My first in-game death would have to wait a little while longer.

A bright light twisted around me to herald level 20. My health bar restored to full, and Cat-Liz Neverseen lived to see another day. All thanks to the experience granted by killing the ranger along with the revenge buff.

The colors of the world lost their ruddy hue, rushing back in vivid, oversaturated tones. Free from the toxins in my blood, I shook the dirt and muck from my fur before charging headlong back into the fray.

Teeth tore. Claws raked. Blood spilled.

Without the rangers raining down arrows on us, the rest of the match went by nearly effortlessly. Right until the last standing on their team were twin elven paladins with stupid amounts of hit points, maxed gear, and dumb names, R3dTemplar and Blu3Templar. The only way we got them down was focusing on one and then the other. All the while, people cried out profanities at them and accused them of hacking.

When the last paladin finally fell, our team won with thirteen players remaining. Before the system kicked us from the warfield, someone cried out, “Meet you all at Lighthall!”

A loud cheer rose from the crowd and gradually lessened as we ported away from the area. Only to grow in volume again as we worked our way through the city. The closer we got, the more teammates we found. We moved in a loud cluster to the tavern, ready for celebrations and much needed good tidings. Our voices joined in the worst version of “We are the Champions” ever, off key and out of synch.

Sure, we’d been one out of hundreds of warfield matches that day, but who cares. We hadn’t won all those other ones.

I stepped out of the crowd and searched my spell book for the new ability I’d been waiting for; added it to my bar and activated it. A brown stag with a majestic rack, nearly equal to my own, emerged and stomped a hoof. Lovingly, I grazed a hand along it’s flank, inspected the straps on the saddle to make sure I wasn’t about to jump on something that would cause me to crash headfirst on the cobblestone street, and mounted.

The beast moved with steady, graceful strides, quickly overtaking the slow ambling crowd and leading the way to the tavern.

Fuck, did it feel good to have a win that day.

I’d just been ready to settle in for a night of merriment when Cale and Angel disappeared; melting away any pleasant cheer.

While I should be happy my friend found someone interested in him, those emotions wouldn’t come. It was selfish, and I understood that much at least.

I’d just begun contemplating how massive of an asshole I truly was when Salvo threw himself into the chair across from mine, putting his elbows on the table before resting his chin in his palms. “I need a huge favor from you,” he said. “Are you game?”

“It depends,” I responded with exaggerated disruption in my tone and a great sigh. The truth was, I needed a distraction and he was providing one. “What would I need to do?”

An overly wide smile stretched across his face. One that I’ve learned over the years meant he knew I’d help him no matter what. “I’ve been invited to the big league PvP matches and could use a partner. Would you mind tagging along? We could get some great gear that only competitors have access to.”

“Really?” I asked and focused briefly on the celebration happening around us as I pretended to deliberate. Ice9 jumped on a table and danced along with the band performing on stage. After adding my voice to the other catcalls, I gave Salvo’s arms a light push off the table.

His head snapped forward without the support but regained control before his forehead smacked the tabletop. “Bitch,” he shouted, eyes wide and playful.

“Fine. I’m gonna suck, but I’ll try. When do we start? Like tomorrow or something?”

He scratched the back of his head and avoided my gaze. “The ranked matches start in ten minutes. Our first fight is in a half hour.”

“Wait, our first fight? Salvo, did you enter me before asking?”

“I could tell you no, but you and I both know it’d be a lie.”

Unsure what to say, I stood and balled my fists, wishing this wasn’t so common an occurrence. For as long as I knew him, he’d been signing me up for things before telling me. Sure, I’d even enjoyed myself from time to time doing things I’d never have gotten the chance to experience otherwise, and that was the only reason I allowed the trend to continue. After more and more years went by, it was just shit my annoying pseudo-brother did to irritate me.

He patted my hand in a seemingly nice gesture but I should have known better. Before there was a chance to react, he’d stood, pulled my arm and twisted me into a loose chokehold. Held behind him in a pose Viv would have murdered puppies to be in, he spoke in my ear. “I’m surprised you’re not more excited about PvP. For once, you’ll get rewarded for curb-stomping people.”

My fist flew towards his groin and bounced off a shielding thigh he brought up at the last second. “Goddammit Salvo. Fine, we’ll go. But I need some drinks in me first.”

The ranked battles had an entire island dedicated to hosting the event. Smaller huts that served as dressing rooms littered the area, surrounding a massive re-imagining of the Colosseum of Rome. Only the arena wasn’t in ruins like the actual Colosseum, and the statuary tucked into the alcoves were forms of the various game races.

Our feet traveled a cobbled path lined with re-imagined ancient sculpture leading to the front entrance. I drank each in with as much time as I had, from an elven David to a dwarven Pieta. My legs refused to pass one sculpture in particular without further inspection. The statue of a female devilkin with robes billowing behind her demanded my adoration. Her wide batlike wings opened to the skies; her head lifted in a triumphant gaze. She was a fallen version of the goddess Nike, and she was gorgeous. I trailed my fingers across the cold marble folds of her gown and shivered in delight.

“We can look at that stuff later,” Salvo said, pulling my arm.

I followed him, turning my head for one last peek at the statues. “Imagine doing shit like that for your job?”

“You went to school for something close though, yeah?”

“I’d hardly compare that with slot machine art design. Which is probably where I’m headed.” I groaned, thinking about the gaudy designs in store for me. The kind of over-the-top trash created to catch tourists eyes.

He glanced sideways at me and asked, “Have you thought about, I dunno, not working at Vegas Land?”

I scoffed. “And leave my parents with all the loans? You know how it goes, Salvo. Graduate from Vegas Land University and get a Vegas Land Resorts job to pay off the debts incurred. Someday I’ll spit out a kid of my own and curse them the same way my parents cursed me by taking on more Vegas Land debt so the spawn can go to college and eventually start paying it off themselves.”

“That’s pretty freaking evil.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the way the system works these days. How else are the major corporations going to guarantee their workforce, if not through generations of financial servitude? Consider yourself lucky.”

He frowned. “Is it better to have a path, even if it’s shitty, or a wide world of empty prospects? What can I do? Get a job at the by-the-hour motel Mom works at? Cleaning various body fluids and who knows what else from VR rigs doesn’t sound too lucky to me.”

“Ew,” I said, making a face. I hadn’t really thought about that aspect of his mom’s job. I guess I’d just imagined her vacuuming and changing bed sheets. The mental image of Mrs. De Angelis cleaning spunk off an economy pod was more than I wanted, but there it was burned in my brain anyway.

I decided to change the subject in an attempt to rid myself of it. “You’ve got a good thing going with your gig at the bar.”

“For now, but how long before I’m the creepy old guy flirting with younger men and women. My tips come from flirting, Liz, not because I make a mean martini. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t. Half the time I don’t even know what bottle is in my hand.”

I fought for the right words to say. Understanding the added concern wasn’t just his age but how long before Cliff, the owner of the bar, gave in to the rising offers from Captain Bacardi Entertainment or Blue-Ribbon Brewery. Neither of whom believed in employing humans. Why would they, when dispenser bots never needed a day off or paychecks each week?

Finally, not knowing what to say, I opted to take his hand in mine and squeeze. “We’ll figure it out.”

A long sigh escaped him, and he nodded. “Eventually. But, now, we need to focus on this shit. I heard the top seeds get a pretty big payout and the chance to move forward to the multi-server championship and beyond. Each with an even bigger payout.”

I’d heard about professional eSports players before, but figured there’d be more to it; like agents and contracts. All the banal things that ruin the fun you’re trying to enjoy. I was in the middle of imagining what a talent scout from Arcadia would look like when a frogman hopped in our direction.

His wide eyes searched us and inspected the names above our heads, before nodding. “Glad you’re here. We had a cancellation, so I’ll fit you in next. Follow me.” He darted to a side door built into one of the Colosseum’s alcoves.

“Oh, perfect. I love not knowing what I’m getting myself into,” I said bitterly. I’d hoped to catch at least one match before ours started.

“Was that sarcasm?” Frogman asked without turning. He opened the door with webbed fingers and held it for Salvo and I. “Understand, there’s only one of us allowed to have cold feet around here, and you’re not amphibious. If you want out, go on. Otherwise, shut up and get your head in the game.”

I opened my mouth to speak, ready to tear into a large plate of frog legs, but Salvo caught my eyes, pleading with his own.

This is his chance for something better so don’t fuck it up for him, I reminded myself. My jaw shut with an audible click, and I followed them into the darkness of the backstage arena.

Frogman led us through darkened tunnels of the backstage area until depositing us in a large room filled with mirrored stations.

A human wearing all black beckoned me towards him. I glanced at Salvo, not wanting to be separated, only to have him push me forward.

Traitor.

“I’m Misha and I’ll be designing you today. Now, swap to your fighting form,” the man said once I finally approached. He chose a brush from the multitude attached to the apron he wore and put a hand on his hip, tapping his foot while he waited.

“Why?” I asked, not willing to shift on command. I don’t do well with being ordered around in the first place, so this guy and I were already getting off to a great start.

He tsked at me and waved a hand. “There’s going to be cameras, and it’s my job to make sure you aren’t looking like a hot mess in front of them.”

“Look, that’s completely unnecessary. I’m just here to kill people. Do I really need all that?”

His eyes lit up. He barely turned his head, keeping his eyes laser focused on me and yelled, “Sasha, give your guy the number nine. This kitty’s got some bite.” His voice lowered and his expression brightened. “I’ve gotten so many boring ass nature druids that I almost went there with you out of habit. We’re gonna have some fun. Based on your username, little miss Riot Girl, I know just the way to go.”

He didn't allow me to look at myself until he finished. He gave one last squeal of approval and led me to a mirror.

The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could think, I’d been so flabbergasted by the transformation. “Oh, no shit? Do I get to keep this forever?”

He'd changed the fur on my cat form to a coal black with fiery red tips. Bracelets of bone and barbed wire adorned all four paws, some barbs even held bits of rotting flesh. My claws coated in some kind of alloy and serrated. I wore a spiked black leather collar along with a thick chain and padlock that, due to it being purely cosmetic, stayed silent. The icing on the cake, though, was the face. White fur formed the shape of a skull with bright red eyes that emitted crimson wisps of magical energy. A brutal scar went down one side of the skull, crossed the right eye, and veered towards the nose.

“Technically, I’m supposed to take it off when the event ends, but if you sneak out without telling me,” he shrugged and winked. “I also have no clue how your elven form got some work done either. Must be a bug in the system.”

I adored this man. “You didn’t touch Rose and Blanche, did you?”

He shook his head and snickered, “You mean those knockers you had bolted on? Honey, those milk jugs were too divine to touch.”

Salvo emerged from behind a curtain and I let out a sharp laugh. The petite blonde dwarf leading him, who I’m assuming was Sasha, gave me a nasty look.

“You did great, really great. But you turned him into the devil form of his real self.” The Mephistopheles facial hair, the slicked back pompadour, was all Salvo. The things he couldn't afford, like the tailored expensive suit with a black shirt and crimson tie with blood red cufflinks. Those were new.

“Goddamn, we look good.” Salvo sighed and adjusted his shirt sleeves. “Ready, bitch?”

I nodded, little sparks of energy forming in the pit of my stomach.

Misha led us to an elevator, kissing Salvo and I on either cheek for luck. He lingered for as long as he was able until the doors threatened to shut on his body and pulled away.

“Even if we suck, the wardrobe change alone was worth it,” I said to fill the nervous silence.

“I appreciate you doing this. Even though it’s not your thing.” His golden eyes met mine.

“Eh, it’s not a problem. I might even be having fun.”

The enjoyment turned to icy fear as the elevator doors opened and we exited in the center of the massive arena. Away from the soundproofing of the elevator, the cheers of the crowd were deafening.

Salvo flapped his wings, hovered above the ground and spun, vanishing in a puff of sulphuric smoke.

Not being one for theatrics, I yawned and fell into a prowl.

Our opponents were a priest I’d never met before named H0lyR0ll3r, with a partner I sure recognized. It was none other than WyldH3art0n. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was following us. His designers had gone with a look reminiscent of the inquisition.

Boring.

The countdown to begin appeared, and I rushed to one side of the ranger, watching the team assist green-lined shape of Salvo move to his other side.

Spectators screamed the count, “5, 4, 3, 2, 1…” In the distance, a horn signaled the fight to begin.

The ranger pulled a flare but fell before he had a chance of lighting it, with Salvo and I striking him at once. The crowd fell into a cacophony of cheers.

A man’s voice shouted from the stands, “Could have pretended it was a challenge.” The crowd erupted in laughter.

H0lyR0ll3r’s eyes widened and cast a golden bubble around himself, his hands clenched together in prayer. He watched our approach with dismay.

I crouched, looking ready to pounce, letting out a low growl to catch his undivided attention. When his eyes threatened to move to Salvo, I crept forward on the tips of my toes.

“Shit,” he moaned under his breath, sweat poured down his face. He hissed as a drop landed in his eye and went to wipe it away. A massive tactical error.

Salvo struck from behind, driving his dagger deep into the priest. The little bubble popped as it absorbed some of the damage, but not all. The toxins slathered on the blade entered the priest’s system, and his skin took on a sickly pallor. He fell to his knees, and I struck, dragging my claws across his throat. A sticky red spray erupted from the cut, splashing my coat and the dirt floor around me.

The priest collapsed, and the match was called in our favor.

We emerged into the arena for the second fight, and any hope we’d had of winning diminished. Our opponents were the two paladins from the warfields, R3dTemplar and Blu3Templar.

Both decked out in golden armor that glittered under the sun, they strutted around the arena, arms outstretched, bathing in the energy from the crowd. Their pale hair flowed over their shoulders, same length and cut. Without their helmets which bore either red or blue gems to distinguish them, they were identical in every way.

The countdown started, and they strapped on their gaudy head buckets.

I shrugged at Salvo and fell into a prowl while he vanished in a puff of brimstone. We moved closer to the paladins right as the clock hit zero. I crouched to attack, but golden clouds of holy light rolled from both paladins and knocked me out of stealth, taking a sliver of life with it. My claws found purchase in Thing One, but bounced uselessly off his plate armor.

Salvo appeared behind him, his wings pumping to keep him out of the clouds, and drove his daggers deep into the small part of exposed flesh between Thing One’s chest piece and helmet. He crumpled, close enough to dead that the poison would finish him.

Well, it would have if Thing Two hadn’t run forward, bashing the side of my face with his shield to cast me aside and taking half my hit points with it. Golden light surged from his fingertips, healing Thing One to full.

Healed and ready for more, Thing One cast a quick cure poison on himself and we were right back to square one.

“Liz, watch out,” Salvo yelled and I whirled around.

Just in time to see a two-handed hammer flying towards my face. There was a crunch and then darkness. The word ELIMINATED flashed in front of me, and I was transported out of the arena.

When my vision returned, I was in the backstage area, staring at my designer Misha who was trying very hard not to look directly in my direction. He nodded his head to his left and continued polishing the same work surface despite it already shining.

Disoriented but not too far gone to take a hint, I crept out the door and into a changing hut where I found a full-length mirror. There, I appreciated the cat form once more before shifting to my elven form and gasped.

Misha had cut the long purple hair into a five-inch mohawk with blunt bangs and tufts of hair at either ear. My leather armor now appeared as a black tank top, a battered jean vest covered in buttons and patches of band logos, black leather pants and Doc Marten boots, with purple ladder laces. He’d covered my arms and torso in a variety of tattoos, some old horror monsters and some, ironic to my actual life, of horseshoes and snake-eyed dice. Dramatic smokey eye make-up that I’d never been able to manage on my actual self, chipped nail polish and scabbed knuckles completed the look.

Next time I saw Misha, I’d have to kiss him. Or have Salvo do it for me. Whichever he preferred.

The little icon of a microphone appeared with V4mpyrL0rd Speaking: “Where the hell are you?”

I jumped, inhaling sharply, bringing a bit of spit down my airway. Once my coughing fit fell under control, I said, “Shit, I forgot about that feature, um, checking out my other form in a hut. Where are you?”

“Row 42 Seat A. Nosebleeds, but it’s fine enough, adjust your viewing angle, and it’s like you’re beside them. Get your ass over here. The next match is about to begin and I can’t wait to watch those paladins get their asses kicked.”

I could hear the crowd from the hut and knew the paladins were making their rounds in the ring. After a mad dash to the arena and a few wrong turns, I finally found Salvo and plunked beside him.

He whistled through his teeth at me. “If you were anyone else, we’d be fucking.”

“That’s disgusting, but I’ll take it as a compliment,” I said and focused my gaze on the arena.

The twin’s opponents were two meaty warriors, decked out like wrestlers from the 1980s. Their neon green man panties and fringed headbands got dirty real fast. To no one’s surprise, the paladin’s made quick work of them, leaving the warriors rolling around in the dust, clutching their backs and tapping out like it made any difference.

As the twins made their rounds, basking in the glory of the cheers and hisses from the audience, something flickered near them. Almost like something pressed against a perfectly camouflaged membrane. The lines of arena behind the thing stretched and distorted again.

One twin pointed at the anomaly, clearly asking his brother a question, but there wasn’t any audio to hear what it had been.

The other shrugged and readied himself to fight.

The membrane stretched again and gave way as a blade pierced through. A blade I was all too familiar with. One made of static.

“Ooh’s” and “Ah’s” echoed around us, but I was too mortified to react.

“Shit, Liz. You see that?” Salvo asked, his voice weak.

My heart hammered against my chest. “Well, you wanted to watch the paladin’s get their asses handed to them.”

He snorted, but his icy hand found mine and held tight.

The hole in the membrane widened, and the assassin stepped through; the outlines of his body concealed by the movement of his coloring.

“Wow, this must be some new scripted event, huh?” A dwarven woman sitting to my right asked.

“No, it’s not. We need to get out of here and…” I started, but my eyes refused to leave the arena as the fighting began. While physical pain was dulled in the game world, fear was left completely unaltered. The adrenaline that activated fight or flight rushed into my brain, snapping me back into action. I yelled at the top of my lungs, telling people to run, log out, anything. Only to be drowned out by the voices of the thousands present.

In the arena, the brothers brought down one attack after another, only to have them parried or blocked by a shield created from thin air. They, in turn, deflected and danced away from lethal swings aimed at their necks.

Unable to get the people to help themselves, I brought up the customer service console and typed a frantic message, pleading for help. Bad things were about to happen to the two paladins. If they could be ported away to safety or… something, anything. The automated reply told me a representative from Eternia Entertainment would contact me in 24 hours or less.

FUCK!

Out of options, I watched transfixed as one of the paladins maneuvered himself into a corner. He parried a wide swing but failed to deflect the conjured shield brought down from the opposite direction. His body gave one final spasm, and rained blood on the first few rows near where they fought. The crowd erupted into cheers.

The other brother took advantage of the drawn attention and drew a dagger, thrusting it into the exposed side of the assassin.

The static assassin’s form changed, as the back became front in a jilted movement that shook the dagger free. His hand flew out, grabbed his assailant by the throat and tore, pulling the two halves apart and tossing them to his feet.

Cheers erupted again until a message flashed on all the displays of those present. A message already running rampant through rumor mills and gossip. Imagine if the slasher that existed in the ghost stories of nearly every summer camp on earth made himself known in the middle of a camp variety hour.

It was kinda like that, only worse. Mindless chaos erupted after everyone present watched the words scrawl over their vision:

R3dTemplar has disconnected from the server

ERROR: USER R3dTemplar - DOES NOT EXIST

Blu3Templar has disconnected from the server

ERROR: USER Blu3Templar - DOES NOT EXIST