Mai and her exhausted people stumbled into the upper bastion of the rebel base, refusing to relax until they were in the securest part of the base. A crowd had gathered, word of their arrival having been sent through by the gate guards. A large woman detached herself from the group, arms spread out wide, grin splitting her face from ear to ear.

“Red!” Dakota sprinted over and into the woman’s huge arms, gasping slightly as the breath was squeezed from her. “We thought you were dead,” she managed in a raspy breath.

“So did I, especially once the jammer kicked in, but I was able to keep moving and heading away. And then they stopped chasing me. Probably to concentrate on whatever you were doing. I just kept going,” there was no hint of guilt at this. Red was nothing if not practical.

“And we’re glad that you did,” Mai laid a hand on the woman’s heavily muscled shoulder. “We lost some good people, including Hind and your friend Hammer. We lost knights as well. Bad day for us. But an even worse day for the enemy. Your strike hurt them, and then the follow up battles saw them lose even more people. I wouldn’t have wanted to lose someone else. You made a good decision in the heat of battle and didn’t let emotion get the better of you.”

Dakota winced at the pointed barb, raising her hands in a sign of surrender and apology. Mai had tried to keep her voice light, emphasising the losses that they’d caused the enemy rather than the losses that they had suffered. Jock had been particularly morose, retreating into a shell and refusing to engage any of them in conversation beyond that absolutely necessary.

“Everyone who was with us in the town, please come to the interview room. We need to do a debrief whilst things are fresh in our minds,” she’d already told them of this, but wanted to hide the real purpose for them immediately going into a huddle after returning from such a battle.

They trudged into the room, shoulders slumped from exhaustion. Biyu’s pigeon hadn’t even introduced herself, leading them through a bewildering series of unused tunnels and sewers before bidding them goodbye as she returned to the gang’s control point.

Biyu walked in just as they were sinking into the chairs lining the room.

“Good to see my agent got you clear. As far as I’m aware, no-one knows she was involved, so hopefully they’ll put it down to you keeping some bio-mass back to escape rather than use it to HEAL yourselves.”

“I hope you have a plan to extract her if she thinks she’s compromised?” asked Mai. She wasn’t happy with the thought that the spy might find herself at the hands of the giant.

“Naturally,” Biyu raised an eyebrow as she sat, and Mai gave her an up-nod of apology. “Now. I believe that she heard some of the enemy talking. She reported everything she heard, and I used a high-level mnemonic to lock the memory away.”

Mai wasn’t the only one to lean forward with a quizzical look on her face.

“It’s a skill that all spies acquire. Basically, it means that they and their handlers are able to compartmentalise their thoughts and memories. They can have three or more completely separate identities, none of which are aware of the other. All of them have different ways of walking, talking, sexual preferences, everything that makes a person a person.”

“And your pigeon, the one who rescued you?” asked Ma.

“She was one hundred per cent ganger until I sent an activation signal. Then another of her personalities took over and she rescued you. Now that she’s returned, she’ll get another signal and revert back to the ganger identity.”

Silence greeted her explanation as everyone around the table considered the possibilities of what Biyu had just said.

“Don’t worry,” Biyu smiled. “The gangers don’t have the facility they need to progress spies that far. It’s only thanks to Mai that we’re able to have such levels of spies.”

“Any other factions have facilities like this?” Dakota’s eyes were narrowed, darting around the room.

“The Ghosts, but they’re allies, and the Alacatrazers, a prisoners gang,” Biyu looked too relaxed for Mai.

“And you can be certain that the people we have in this base aren’t spies because?” she prompted.

“There are ways for people with the correct level of intelligence facility to detect them. I won’t go into it, but rest assured, everyone here has been cleared.”

Mai nodded, not totally convinced, but happy to trust Biyu’s judgment and let her keep her secrets. Giving herself a shake, she returned to the true subject at hand.

“So you heard then?” she asked.

“I heard a tall story about how this is all a game, and that some of us,” Biyu pointed at Mai and Dakota, “are something called Mega Minions. All of the enemies, well most, are just minions, as are the rest of us. Mother was a high level player in X gang. Which means that I think that X of the Ghosts is also a player. Do I have it right?”

Mai nodded, then explained everything. It took longer than when she had first told Dakota because everyone else present had questions. More than once she thanked the gods that the room was soundproofed as there were bursts of anger, cursing and weeping.

“And so, that’s it. I’m asking, begging, you to keep this secret until we can find a way of letting people know. You’ve seen how hard it’s hit. You’ve felt how hard it hits and it’s going to keep feeling like that. Even now I’m struggling to accept it.”

Nods greeted her statement. No one seemed willing to trust their voices. All of their eyes were red-rimmed. Jock had taken things particularly hard, railing against the players who had killed his friend, and the programmers who had made it possible. Of all of them, Mai thought he would be the one most worth watching. From the way Biyu looked at him, she thought so too.

Catching her spy mistress' eye, she gently tilted her head towards Jock. Biyu didn’t even look over, just giving a slight nod before her shaking hand raised a glass of water which she gulped down.

“I mean it people, I need to hear that you’re not going to go and tell people. Think of what happened in this room and multiply it many hundreds of times over. Then think of it spreading through the city. It will cause chaos, misery and death.”

“Is this why you’ve been pushing war, making sure that only certain people are given training?” Ma asked.

“Yes,” Dakota replied for her. “We’ve choked the player’s ability to progress down here. Those players who have proven to be loyal to the rebel faction, helping us fight the mutiny for example, have been able to take on missions and progress. But we’ve been careful with what we gave them, and Biyu’s people have been watching them.”

“And I swear that I didn’t know. I just thought Mai was being careful after we were betrayed by people we thought were our leaders,” Biyu laid a hand upon her heart, holding the other up as they were taught in school as they swore allegiance to the Emperor.

“Fine, I promise,” snarled Jock. “But I want to see a lot more players dead.”

The others followed his prompt, adding their promises and calls for revenge. Mai ignored the tears that were streaking down her cheeks as she thanked them.

“When was the last time you looked at your SASS?” whispered Dakota as they sat in the canteen. The others had decided to head to their separate rooms. No-one else in the room was talking above more than a whisper, the last few day’s events having taken their toll on morale. A memorial had been planned to celebrate the actions of Hind and the other casualties. Without bodies there could be no funeral, but it was still important that they receive the pomp and ceremony due them.

“I honestly can’t remember,” Mai took hold of her friend’s hands. “Before … before all this,” she waved a hand before taking hold of Dakota’s again, “I used to check it a lot. Especially if I skilled up in something. But now. No. I’m not some piece of a fucking game, I’m me and I refuse to be reduced to stats.”

“Same here. Can’t do anything about the damned notifications though,” chuckled Dakota.

“Those especially. Kill notifications for the gods’ sake already. Like I can’t see I’ve just blown someone away with my own eyes. I don’t need a banner proudly proclaiming a new title because I’ve hit some programmer’s parameters.”

“I never really bothered with my SASS, and I always thought that the reason I couldn’t SASS my gang leaders was because they were at such a high level. Not because they were fucking players,” Dakota’s grip on Mai’s hands tightened.

“I suppose the reason that we can’t SASS them is because we don’t really need to. Hells, we don’t even need to be able to SASS each other. Probably a lazy programmer somewhere. Never really thought about it when I was playing games. We can always see the stats for the environment, but never even stop to wonder whether they can see ours.”

“Can you imagine? A bunch of low-level enemies see a high-ranking player appear. They’d shit themselves and run, not charge into battle,” hissed Dakota.

“And there we have it, bastards! Give us the will to live, to lead lives, but take away our ability to truly think for ourselves when it comes to it. Because they have just got to get their kills.”

Dakota’s face flushed red with rage, and Mai could feel her own choler rising. It had a cold logic to it. No matter what level a player was, locals would always engage them. But that was because aside from the kit that the players were wearing, there was no way to tell just how outclassed they were. Because if they could tell, they’d run for the hills and the players wouldn’t be able to progress.

“Makes me feel sick that we’ve been doing the same in our own games,” Dakota’s legs were jigging. She was that agitated.

“Do you think that this world is mirrored in the games we play?” Asked Biyu.

“I fucking hope note, as that would make us the damned players. And then them if they play games too. Gods, this is an utter mindfuck!” she slammed her hand down on the table, causing a number of rebels to jump out of their seats at the sudden noise.

“Sorry, she’s just vexed,” Mai apologised for her friend.

“Well fuck ’em. I’m done with working out numbers and odds. I know I only have one life, and I know that most of the players want to snuff it out, so I’m going to try and live in the moment, and work on pulling the whole thing down around their ears.”

“Amen to that boss. Amen to that.”