Max rubbed his wrists, where the handcuffs chaffed the skin red. Friday sat on the edge of the bed pulling on a pair of deceptively innocent panties. They slid up her thighs, and she stood briefly to settle them into place. Then she rolled white stockings up her legs like coconut frosting on a pina’ colada cake. He licked a tongue across his lips, thinking about last night. After subscribing, Max logged back in to find himself handcuffed to the bed. Friday was perched atop him and wasted no time in mounting him. She'd treated Max like personal sex toy, then woken him twice more that night to satisfy herself. His gaze must have lingered because a flush slowly crept across Friday's face.

"Stop it, your making me self conscious," Friday said reaching for a G-sized white bra.

"What? I can't look at you?" Max grunted and continued to watch Friday. She pushed her arms through the bra straps, clipped the back together, then adjusted her plump breasts into the cups. The woman was thick around the thighs and bust, but she was miles from fat. Voluptuous or curvy might be the right word for it.

"Friday's got a complex about her figure, and you can thank Derek for that. A weapon's first Meister has the biggest impact on our personality, and the prick could never pass up the chance to say something demeaning." Violet snarled. She came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her torso, and a comb in her hand.

"He was probably worried you'd dump him and go looking for better prospects," Max replied, and Violet sank onto the mattress next to him. Then immediately attacked the tangles in her hair.

"Towards the end, he was so lazy he'd run maybe two matches a week, and the rest of the time was spent complaining about everything."

"I see."

"No, I mean everything. If it wasn't the ranking system, it was the rampant cheaters—"

"There are cheaters?" Max interrupted.

"There's always some fool who think they can cheat the system. When the admins find one, they drop a slug from space. Anyway, when Derek wasn't smack talking the game, it was Friday or me, and how lame the sex had become... like it was our fault." Violet said as her assault on the tangles continued.

"Well a certain someone knows how to work a man over. I had no idea you could start a mattress fire like that." Max teased, and Friday had the good grace to blush. She disappeared into the walk-in closet, so max went hunting for his clothes.

"What time do you both work?"

"I start at four, and Friday at six."

"We've got the whole morning then," he said, pulling on his pants. Violet lowered her comb and watched Max struggle into his shirt with amusement. "Best if things continue as normal. We'll visit the mall, then hit up the competition center before your shift start." Max added locating a sock under a pair of discarded panties. The second hung over the lampshade. He gathered his shoes, and pushed his feet inside, then started to work the laces together. Violet finished brushing her hair and unfurled shower towel. Max froze mid shoelace as she crossed the room butt naked and pulled open the dresser's top drawer. A brace of skulls on her arm, hip, and thigh jeered at Max like the ghosts of former rivals. The tattoo was awe-inspiring but reminded Max that he wasn't close to her first Meister. She returned to his side with a thong and matching bra. He reached over and ran his hand up her thigh counting them.

"Nine former contracts," he said, and Violet pulled her thong up.

"Ten, technically, if we count you. After Derek, the longest to stick around was two and a half weeks." She said holding out a hand. Max passed her the bra.

"Sounds like most of my relationships," Max admitted.

Friday came out of the closet finally wearing a mid-length white dress. The stockings rose to within a few inches, so a bit of thigh showed. Max whistled in appreciation. Violet stood the two women kissed, then threw a withering glare at Max.

"What the caveman means, is that he likes it," Violet patted Friday on the ass before entering the closet next. She turned to Max, and he nodded.

"I do," Max replied, searching for his gun-belt, then remembered it was in the guest room. He followed Friday out into the living room and over to his. He slipped on the Glock holster, pistol pouches, and the karambit knife. After double checking his gear, he wandered out into the kitchen.

"You can stay in the master bedroom if you want," Friday suggested, a touch hopefully.

"Then I'd never get a good night's sleep," Max said and she stuck her tongue out. Violet came out the bedroom, at last, wearing a blood-red jacket, and a pair of jeans so shredded only a leather belt kept them on.

"Caveman like that too," Max growled walking over. Violet pushed him back as he groped for her ass. She patted his cheek on the way passed and snatched the car keys off the hook.

"Let's get going," she said, and they went down to her car.

“Your first purchase should be armor. It'll be the most expensive thing you buy today.”

“What are the different types?” He asked opening the car door. Max gestured for Friday to climb in, and she patted his other cheek. Max climbed into the back, while Violet turned the car over. Friday continued her instruction by half turning in her seat. They backed out and onto the early morning street.

“There are three categories of armor; light, medium, and heavy. The difference is the tradeoff between protection and encumbrance. Light armor is easy to move in, while heavy armor will slow you drastically but gives the best protection.” Friday said looking back at him.

"You won't have the credits for a full suit. Vests cover the torso, but will leave your arms and legs vulnerable." Violet added.

"What do you suggest?" He asked, and the two women conferred in a short huddle.

"His agility is only at one point, so maybe he's better off getting light armor?" Friday suggested, and immediately, Violet shook her head.

"He's better off working with his endurance stat for survivability. Wearing heavy armor will make him harder to kill." She said, and Friday chewed her lip for second before nodding in agreement. They turned to him, but Friday was the one that spoke.

"You could compromise by wearing medium armor," She said, and Max turned to look at the woman walking out of the store. She strutted past him at a good clip before disappearing down the corridor.

"I should have put more points into Agility."

"Every situation is different, and no stat dominates the others. Let's say three Meister's step into a room at the same time. A Strength based character will likely carry a heavy caliber machine gun into combat. That's why they're called Heavy Support. His weapon will be a hard counter against an Endurance Tank. An Agility based Flanker should be a difficult target to track for a Heavy Support. Of course, these are extreme examples. A Meister can pick whatever armor and weapon they want." Friday lectured and Violet nodded in agreement. They turned into the mall’s lot, which was nearly empty, parked, and entered the mall. The girls led him past the food court.

Full Protection was a small store tucked toward the back of the mall. Despite the early hour, a woman was just leaving the dressing room. She wore a black bodysuit that covered every inch of her, and he had to admit, the tight fabric emphasized her figure. Kevlar Ballistic patches strategically protected her vital organs, and a helmet shaped like a kitty cat hid her face. She quickly scanned at Max from head to foot, then went to pay for her new armor.

Max walked down the aisle and picked up the first armored vest on the shelf. The Titan 2B tag listed a price of twenty-eight thousand credits, and he rolled his eyes.

"Why is everything so damn expensive?" He asked in disgust, dropping the armor with the rest.

"If things are cheap, they are too easily obtained. Meisters must work more to obtain the most valuable item," Violet replied and he frowned.

"And thus play more," Max finished, but he supposed she had a point. Sluts held little interest to Max after he'd seduced them because the hunt was the fun part. The same went for the game. Players who got everything they wanted on the first day didn't bother coming back. Sighing with regret Max strolled along the aisle until he found a lighter set, and flipped the tag to check the armor's stats.

_________

Name - Dragonscale Tactical Vest

Weight - 8.8kg

Coverage - Thorax and Stomach

Damage Resistance - 23%

Encumbrance - 11%

Credits - 12700

__________

There were a couple different color variations, but he picked out a slate gray vest. The front and back were covered in round Kevlar patches like old fashioned scale mail. More sets of medium armor lined the shelf, but they others offered less protection. A few aisles over he picked up a cheap chest rig for mag pouches.

Then he carried everything to dressing room, and tried them on. Donning the armor filled Max with an odd sense of nostalgia. He adjusted the straps on the chest comfortably hugged his torso. He opened the door and stepped out, and took a few laps around the store. The movement penalty didn't seem so bad, and he barely noticed the 11% difference. Max sucked in a deep breath, then stretched, and wheeled his arms around.

"Are you happy with the armor?" Friday asked, and he nodded.

"Good enough for now. I can always come back later and try something else." He said, and both women saddled up to his sides. Max draped an arm around each of them as they walked over to counter.

"You two are holding hands, aren't you?" Max asked and Friday started.

"How did you know?"

"One night of mind-blowing sex isn't going to flip Violet's attitude towards me," Max said and played with the collar of Violet's red jacket. He glanced down, and added, "I wonder if fucking you every night like that would help."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," She replied and he let go of the girls to ring up his items.

__________

Dragonscale Tactical Armor - 12700 credits

Condor Scout Rig - 550 credits

Total - 13250 credits.

__________

Max pressed his palm to the console and confirmed the transaction. Then stopped just outside to admire himself in the store's window reflection. The grey scaled armor was a nice contrast against the white t-shirt, and he liked the way his muscles stretched the fabric. Damn if he wasn't starting to look like a real soldier.

"How much do you have left, Max?" Friday asked in an overly casual tone. Max noticed her watching him in the refection.

"Eager for some mods?" He asked, and the woman quickly cleared her throat.

"I could offer some advice… depending on your credits," she suggested and he smiled. The first day, Violet had left him on his own, and she still didn't seem to care. Violet's hands were stuffed into the jacket pockets while she affecting a bored expression. She'd probably lost more mods than he could ever afford.

"I've got just over four-thousand credits left," he admitted moving to embrace Friday. Max dropped his arm over her shoulders again, and they wandered down the corridor.

"Magazines and ammo are something every Meister needs, but many forget to buy a sling. Then they have to carry the weapon everywhere."

"You make a good point," he said as they turned into the weapon store. "Why don't you pick out a sling while I find an optic," Max suggested, and she turned those beautiful green eyes on him.

"Really?"

"Really," he replied prodding Friday forward, and she danced into the store ahead of them. She picked up a skeletonized foregrip like a kid in a toy store and pressed the plastic to her cheek.

"She looks excited," Max mused as Friday disappeared down another aisle of handguards. Violet rolled her eyes, then detached herself from Max, and followed the sound of joyous squealing.

The Scar-H was effective from medium and long range, especially against enemy snipers. However, it wasn't much of a room clearer. The heavy round combined with the 16-inch barrel to make it awkward in close quarters. He needed a good optic to use the rifle to full advantage. He wandered towards the back wall where he quickly discovered how ridiculously expensive scopes were. A high-end 6x48 ACOG would have been his first choice, but that was over thirty-nine thousand credits, and the reflex sights were between five and seven thousand creds. A few 1 to 4 powered scopes were in his price range, but that felt like a waste of money. Max picked up a Vortex RMR and peered through the small window at the 1 MOA dot. Usually these went onto pistols, but they were also useful as backup CQB sights on a rifle. What if he bought this now, then moved to a side rail after he purchased a real scope? Heck, he could throw the RMR onto Violet after Friday was kitted out. Decision made he also bought Vortex Venom and mount, then wandered over to the foregrips. He picked out a BCM Vertical Grip.

Finally, Violet come strolling up with Friday on a leash. The pistol tugged on the sling and Friday bounced up to Max. He held out his hand and Violet gave him the sling's end. Friday beamed at him with unrepressed energy.

"Good to see you're as excited as I am," he said holding out his items. "How do we get these installed?"

"No installation necessary. I need a moment of privacy to attach them," Friday said impatiently trotting to the changing room. Once inside, She locked the door, and a deep moan of pleasure echoed through the store. Flashes strobed around the door frame as woman and weapon manifested. Her cries of joy continued for almost a minute before the door open.

"You can try the mods in the test range before you buy them. They can't be returned once you leave the store,” Friday said, pointing to a row of ballistic windows.

"We'll do some trial runs at the competition center.

"Sure."

Friday began to glow, and Max was forced to look away as her skin flashed. When he looked back, a gold/bronze colored Scar-H in was laying on the ground. The FN symbol along with the weapon's model and caliber, was printed near the safety selector. Max picked up the gun, and reflexively popped then ten-round factory mag free, then cleared the chamber. The buttstock was adjustable and he pulled out the slider until it was fully extended. He shouldered the Scar and peered through the miniature reflex sight at a nearby poster. The little red dot floated as he shifted his cheek on the rest. The new sling was already attached, but the foregrip was out of place. He liked to keep it as far forward as possible for better leverage, but Friday felt good in his hands.

"Are you done?" Violet asked from nearby. Max pulled the sling over his head, then experimentally shouldered the weapon a few times.

"Yeah. We've been shopping for almost two hours, and I'm supposed to meet Wolfe and Cal there." he let the weapon go, and it dropped across his chest.

"Didn't get everything I wanted, but it's enough to run a few matches. All that's left is rifle mags and ammo," He said and trooped up the register to pay. The clerk tapped at the console a few times, then turned the screen towards Max so he could accept the charges. At the Holster store Max bought several 20 round mags and enough pistol and rifle ammo to last the weekend.

"Oh, how do I get a phone?" he asked as they left the store.

"That's easy. You can buy one at the kiosk near the food court. The number will be associated with your character ID, so people in game and real life can contact you."

"Too bad I didn't ask them their numbers," Max said with an ironic sigh. Still, Violet was helping him which was a good sign.

"We weapons can read a Meister's ID in case they make a sudden change in appearance. Just use the phone to search for them, and send a friend request." Violet said leading him to a little five by five booth. It was covered from top to bottom with smart-phones and accessories. Max selected a black phone with painted white skulls, paid for it with the last of his credit, and activated the number.

With Violet's help, Max sent both a friend request. Neither Wulfe or Cal had a phone so they didn't respond immediately, but they were online. That probably meant they were training.

"Now we can go shoot stuff!"

"Whatever," Violet sighed as they exited the mall. It was still a chilly winter morning outside, and the low clouds continued to cling to the city skyline. The weather was dreary, and it looked like it would rain, but probably not for a few hours. Max glanced at the pistol as she walked beside him. Her eyes scanned the sky, then the parking lot, and to him, it seemed like she looking at everything but him. Was she pleased to have him back on contract? I briefly wondered if her indifference was a front. The weapons at Quinn’s bar went on and on about how good it felt to be used. One admitted it was better than sex, which Max still found hard to believe.

"Come on, it's been almost a week since you've been used. Tell me you're not looking forward to being held again?" He asked nudging her side. She ignored him, so Max saddled up closer and put a hand on her lower back between the jacket and her torn jeans. He leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

"What's it like?" He asked tracing her spine. With his other hand, he made a gun with his fingers, and aimed it at a nearby light pole.

"Having your trigger slack taken up, and that delicious anticipation as your Meister aims at a target. Then the moment of release, the hammer falls, and bang!" He said squeezing the trigger.

"What does it feel like?" he asked again.

"Does it hurt? Does it feel like your being filled as a bullet is pushing down your barrel, building up speed? Your insides turning hot from expanding the gas. I imagine the best part is when the slide rocks back stripping the brass out and pushing in another round, so it all starts again." He breathed the last few words into her ear as they walked across the parking lot. Under his palm, Violet's skin was noticeably warmer, and he rubbed his palm across the skin.

"Max?"

"Yes, Violet?" He asked innocently.

"Get in the car," she growled and he smiled. Max yanked the passenger side door open, then removed the rifle sling, and sat with the Scar tucked between his legs. He patted his chest rig to make sure the new rifle mags were secure, then dropped the rest of the spare ammo on the car's floor.

The competition center was only a mile down the road, and it quickly came into view. The domed glass building looked like a beacon poking from the morning mists. Max looked east toward a feeble sun trying to poke through the gray cloud cover. He checked the radio clock and saw isn't even ten yet, which explained the half-empty parking lot. They managed to find a space near the front of the building.

"Is there a way to locate them?" Max asked as Violet pulled into the slot. He climbed out with Friday and threw the sling over his shoulder. It felt good to be armed again, and he stroked a hand across the rifle’s bronze colored frame.

"Didn't she say they would be training?"

"Yes," he replied slamming the door and joining Violet.

"Then you'll likely find them in the simulation rooms," she said and led the way through the glass doors. They passed the lobby elevators and down a set of stairs. A small dark-skinned man was manning the counter, and he directed them to the third door from the last.

Two familiar women stood in the middle of a rubble-strewn warzone. Pot marked and partially destroyed buildings crowding either side. Calamity knelt behind a broken stone wall firing an assault rifle at something down the street. Bullets zipped past her head and she ducked instinctively. Wulfe stood behind a red line a few feet away without a care in the world.

"Remember to keep the weapon on safe unless you know the enemies and have a sight picture. Eventually, flicking the selector on will become habit."

A figure was visible in a third story window about eighty yards distant. The man was dressed in rags with an AK aimed in their direction. Instead of a face, a big 'X' marked the front of his head like a doll or a mannequin. Cal poked her head up scanning the buildings, and the NPC fired again. The bullet tore a chunk from wall next to her head.

"You might want to move," Wulfe suggested, and call crawled a dozen feet to her left. Then she popped up and settled the rifle atop the wall. The distant NPC shifted his AK, but Cal fired twice.

"Good. The threat is gone, so take your finger off the trigger, and check for other threats." Wolfe instructed and Calamity turned her head to the left and right. She saw him standing by the door.

"You're here," she said standing up.

"Good to see you found a primary weapon," he replied coming forward.

"You realized I do have a gun now."

"A cute threat, but rather hallow with the instant ban you'd receive. I still think you're overreacting." He said stopping next to an overturned pickup. Ammo boxes and spare G36 magazines littered the ground around it.

"How's the training going?"

"Trying to instill a little trigger discipline," Wulfe sight coming over.

"I was hoping you'd show me some tactics like room clearing or whatever."

"You can write about cutting the pie and checking corners, but understanding the weapon in your hands will make your book ten times more realistic. If all you want is a few buzz words there are plenty of neckbeards on the internet."

"Ok, Ok, I see your point," she groaning joining them by the car. Cal dropped the magazines grabbed a fresh one from the pile on the car. Max glanced at Wulfe with a raised eyebrow. Why wasn't Calamity carrying those magazines on her person? She shook her head minutely and Max kept what he was about to say to himself. He supposed Wulfe was keeping things simple for a reason.

"Do you want to join the next round?" Wolfe asked and Max smiled. Fuck yeah he did.

"I left my extra ammo in the car, but I've got enough for a few fights… probably," he said patting his chest rig.

Cal finished reloading then rested the weapon across her shoulder like she out fox hunting. The G36 was an excellent German made assault rifle. Aside from magazines she hadn't bought anything for the weapon. Her eyes slid past Max, and they briefly sparkled with jealousy. He turned to see Violet standing directly behind him. She handed him to keys to her car, then transformed in a flash of light. A Glock appeared on the overturned vehicle. He picked up the pistol, reloaded the weapon with a fresh mag, then holstered it.

"With two players, there will be more enemies to deal with." Wolfe walked over to the console. She activated it and started the same scenario again, then turned to watch. "Just stand by the wall. Enemies will pop out like a wild west film."

He grabbed the Scar, raised it enough to jack a round into the chamber, then double checked the safety. Then they walked forward across the red line and into the simulation. Almost immediately, the sound of combat reached his ears. A large explosion rocked the area, and a dust cloud rose into the sky several blocks away. Max glanced to his right and saw Cal nervously kneeling behind the wall. Her weapon already pointed down the street. Her thumb was poised on the selector switch as she aimed through the iron sights.

Max kept his shoulders loose as his eyes scanned to the city street. In the distance, another explosion went off. Cal shifted on her knee and aimed the weapon on the building closest to the rising dust cloud. A black helicopter flew overhead, and rockets along its stubby wings tore through a third story apartment. Several figures emerged from the alley near collapsing building and sprinted across the street. Two of carried old RPG-7s while another pair lugged a crew served machine gun between them.

"Tango's at 50 meters," he called raising his weapon. By the time his red dot was on target two of the Tango's were already gone. He fired two rapid shots, and the weapon bucked against his shoulder. The first crewman exploded in a shower of pretty sparkles as the 7.62mm slugs slammed into his chest. The recoil wasn't nearly as bad as he'd expected, but thanks to that, his next two shots only hit pavement.

Calamity jerked her gun back from where she'd been aiming, and shot at the fourth retreating figure. The round struck the building's concrete kicking up dust, but he disappeared with the heavy weapon. Max wondered if that MG was going to make a reappearance at the worst possible moment.

For almost a minute nothing happened, and the rattle of distant gunfire continued to close in. Cal kept shifting from building to building, while Max hadn't even bothered taking cover. He stood behind the wall with his weapon at the low ready.

It wasn't bad training, he thought as another explosion blew up a building nearby. Max looked up as two jets screamed overhead. All the gunfire and explosions were designed to get the heart rate up. There was no way to predict where the enemy would come from, so this taught the Meister to keep his eyes moving. Calamity had played the scenario enough that she knew to check for snipers.

"Enemy, uhh, the fourth floor," she called raising the G36 to her shoulder. He was going to ask for more information, but a group of tangos ran out of a nearby doorway. They were only fifteen meters away and carrying an assortment of small arms. A couple skidded to a stop, but most ran at them screaming in a local dialect, which was odd considering they didn't have mouths. He raised the weapon to his shoulder and thumbed the rifle all the way to full auto. The red dot centered on a burka-clad woman carrying a pistol.

He squeezed the trigger, and six rounds stitched up her torso. She vanished in a shower of pixelated lights, and Max rode the recoil to the next person in line. He disappeared in the same manner as the first. Then return fire coming in, and he was forced to drop behind the wall. Calamity was still taking pot-shots at a distant sniper. Max glanced behind him to see Wulfe watching him with a critical eye. Yeah, he knew taking out the sniper should have been his responsibility with the Scar. Not that he had a scope to do that.

Max hit the magazine release and fished a fresh one from his chest pocket. He shoved it home, then used his thumb to press the bolt release. Max rose to his knees. Bullets tore chunks from the wall as the three remaining enemies fired on him. Settling the weapon on the wall, he fired at the two enemies in the open. At this range, it was almost impossible to miss, and the two men vanished in a flurry of sparkles. Max shifted his aim toward a third man who was running for cover, and his bullets tore at the pile of rubble.

The weapon locked back again, and Max tisked in annoyance. He let go of the Scar and grabbed the Glock from its holster. He settled his forearms against the wall as the last man poked his head out. Max squeezed the trigger carefully, and gray gore decorated the building's wall.

"I got him!" Cal shouted a few seconds later. She jumped up and threw a middle finger at the distant enemy sniper. The sound of battle stuttered to a stop as the simulation froze. Dust hung in the air like a dirty snow globe. Max holstered the Glock, then stood, and reloaded the Scar.

"Not bad, but you should have switched targets. Cal has the larger magazine, so she might have wiped out the whole group in one go. Max is a much better shot, however, you should know better than to dump your mag like that." Wulfe admonished tossing a magazine toward Calamity. She caught it with one hand and reloaded. "Still, pretty good work," Wulfe added and tapped the console. Max wasn’t bothered by the chastisement. He should have fired in short bursts, but it had been more fun to hold the trigger down. Besides, he’d wanted to see how hard Friday’s recoil felt.

"Thanks for helping me. I really appreciate it." Calamity said stopping by the vehicle. She pulled open a box of cartridges and reloaded the empty mags on the ground.

"Glad to help."

"Another round, maybe with all three of us?" Max asked coming over to their makeshift bench. He took an empty magazine from Calamity and started loading it.

"I'd love to, but I promised Diego I'd visit him today."

"Give him my number," he said and quickly scrawled it on a discarded box of ammo. Wulfe took it with a wicked smile.

"That'll freak him out. A ghost calling from the grave."

"Ha! You know… now that I think about, maybe you should invite him to play Gun Meister. I mean, once he gets out of the hospital."

"I dunno," Wulfe mused aloud. She looked skeptical of the idea. "Diego took a blow when he lost his leg, and Gun Meister might not be the best outlet."

"Regardless, I'd love to hear from him."

Wulfe pocketed the cardboard, then threw him a sloppy salute as she back toward the door. Max watched her go as the flower of an idea began to form in his mind. With the three of them in Gun Meister, they'd form the backbone of an elite squad. Max just needed two more souls to fill out a five-man team. Heck, If they trained Cal enough to pull her weight, then entering the tournament wasn't out of the question.

Calamity leaned over and snatched the mag out of his hands. Then hastily stuffed everything into an empty shopping bag.

"Hey girl, hold up!" Max called jogging after her.

"What?" Cal asked with a voice bordering on hurt. Max sighed. Was she really going to hold that one night stand against him?

"Look, let's start over. I'm Max and I recently became a digital ghost. It's nice to meet you." He said, holding out his hand. She stared down it for a good long while, then finally, switched the shopping bag to her other hand, and they shook.

"You can call me, Calamity." She said taking a step back.

"We're both Silver, so how about we run a competition match together and kill some people?"