THE FIVE soldiers formed a semi-circle in front of him.

The one who had been shot pointed. "Yeah, this is definitely the asshole who shot me."

The tallest of them with a mohawk pointed at Byron. "You the fucker who capped Fearfart?"

Byron raised his eyebrows. "If that's the name of this guy, yeah."

The mohawk soldier raised his chain gun and the barrel pointed at Byron's chest. "You attacked a member of the Bloodbrawlers Guild. An attack on one of us is an attack on all of us."

The other four soldiers grunted and looked at each other while they nodded.

Byron glanced around. The whole club had fallen silent. Some had drawn back, others ran for the exits. Others had their weapons drawn.

He casually rested one hand on top of the other, trying to make it look casual. In reality, he tapped his bracelet and blinked at the soldiers to check their stats.

To his surprise, they were all level ones and twos. The only one who was a level three was the one with the mohawk. His strength stat was pretty high, but light on armor. He seemed to be both the leader and the one who protected the rest of his team.

Their stats were all ridiculously low. It seemed like their armor and weapons had been chosen for show instead of ability, just like Chetaara had said.

Scarlett apparently saw the same thing because she whispered, "You can take these assholes."

Chetaara snarled like a lioness and bared her teeth. "You dare to challenge my master?"

One of the other soldiers yelled, "Shut your bitch up before we smoke her ass too."

Byron held up his hand to stop Chetaara. He actually did regret shooting the soldier over an insult. He wouldn't survive long if he kept making enemies like that.

"Okay, look, all I did was shoot him in the leg. And to start with, I just asked him a question. We're all players here. We should be working together, not fighting each other."

The white-haired player wearing medieval armor leaned in. "Yeah, guys. We're all just trying to get home."

The mohawk soldier turned his chain gun on the older player. His gun erupted with a round of bullets that sent the older player flying back. The older player hit the wall, slid to the floor and collapsed. The red star over his head flickered and died.

"No!" Byron ran over to the white-haired player.

DECEASED

As he watched, the body faded away into nothingness.

Byron looked up at the five Bloodbrawler soldiers. "He's dead. You killed him. You assholes! If you die in the game, you die in real life!"

Mohawk snorted. "No shit, Sherlock. That's what makes it fun."

The other soldiers laughed and gave each other high fives.

Byron stood up. "How many real players have you killed?"

Mohawk rolled his eyes. "Uh, I lost count. But that's how I got to a level three so you do the math."

Byron's breathing came quicker as anger surged through him. "You're not players. You're serial killers. You should be on death row, not playing this game."

Mohawk swung his chain gun to one side to spread his hands. "Hey, lighten up, dude. We're in this game to have fun."

Byron knew what he needed to do. These players were monsters in the game and real-life. He didn't want to be judge, jury and executioner but he couldn't stand by and let them kill innocent people.

He drew his Scorpio pistol and aimed it at Mohawk's head. "Well, maybe we should have some fun too. I want the names of everyone you've killed in this game."

Mohawk narrowed his eyes. "What are you, blind? You're outnumbered five to one."

Chetaara stepped up to Byron's side and electricity sparked across her fingers. "You are misguided."

Scarlett came up on his right with two guns drawn. "Yeah. Learn to count, shithead."

Mohawk burst out laughing. "This is what you got? One gun, the fucking training robot, and a pussy NPC? Come on, guys. Let's--"

His eyes widened. He gurgled.

The blade of a sword burst out of his chest, slicing through his armor.

As the other Bloodbrawler soldiers cried out and stumbled back, Mohawk went limp and slid to the ground with the sword still jutting out of his back. The light over his head flickered and faded as his body melted away on the floor of the club.

The sword seemed to jump out of Mohawk's back and floated in the air for a moment. Then a green hand melted into view, holding the hilt.

The hand flowed into an arm, then a shoulder. A beautiful woman seemed to form out of nowhere. She was completely nude with small but firm breasts. Only a thin metal band around her neck covered anywhere on her body. Her green skin, long green hair tied back into a ponytail, and scales above her pussy gave her a reptilian appearance.

She shot Byron a harsh glare. "What are you waiting for? Shoot!"