Nic advanced deeper into the Arena, staying mindful of lines of sight and effective cover. He did some mental calculations regarding the leaderboard and how many in-game lives had been lost so far.

I’m in fifth place, he thought, with three kills. That means there must be four better players out there, one with four kills, one with five, one with six, and one with seven—at least. It’s possible at this point that one unlucky player has already been eliminated. Unless I account for respawn times... Not likely.

He realized that he neglected to factor in the possibility of Assist points awarded—two of those combined were as good as a Kill—and a second later, another player was on top of him.

PLAYER 376: [##########]100%

They wrestled each other, exchanging punches, kicks, and pinning each other for supremacy. When Nic was on his back, he rolled to avoid a punch that cracked the ground where his head had been. He toppled 376 and went to stomp on their knee—they dodged at the last second.

“That all you got?” she growled, standing up.

They locked hands and bashed their robotic heads against each other, vying for dominance again. The SimSuit was extremely effective at simulating the physical effort of hand-to-hand combat; Nic felt his real-life muscles flexing and straining to overpower his opponent.

“I don’t know if you noticed,” said Nic, “but I have a lot more health to work with than you do. Don’t feel bad when this goes south for you.”

“Do you, though? I’d check again. You’re not looking quite so green around the gills anymore, if you catch my drift!” He checked. She was right—he was down to 108% and fading by the second. “All I had to do was outlast you.” She unsheathed her Combat Knife. “Amateur!”

He grabbed her wrist just in time—the blade’s pointed edge rested just under his chin. With a practiced twist of her arm and a disarming yank, a move that he was well-versed in from playing Trigger Point obsessively, he snatched the Combat Knife out of her hand and went to plunge it into her neck.

“Wait!” she yelled. “Wait, wait, stop!”

“You only want me to stop now that I’m beating you,” Nic observed impassively. “That’s not how this works.” He stabbed the proxybot in the mechanical throat—not enough to kill it, but the exit wound would do the trick.

PLAYER 376: [###-______]36%

“WAIT!” she pleaded. The emotion in her voice, which carried through even her proxybot’s voice output and his audio input, gave him pause. “You believe in a fair fight, right?”

“This was fair. It’s a free-for-all.”

“I never played shooting sims much growing up. Only as much as PPI made me play. But I loved wrestling and PE.” The sad desperation in her voice was palpable. “You remember that game King of the Hill, right?” Nic scoffed. “Top of that hill. You and me. Melee only. How does that sound?”

“No stalling,” said Nic. “I’m killing you in 30 seconds either way.”

They trotted to her battlefield of choice just a few meters away, and as they went, she gingerly removed her own Combat Knife from her neck. Because of the care she took, Nic saw that she only lost an additional 4% of her health.

“Okay, ready?” Player 376 asked when they had both ascended the hill. He nodded once. “Shoulders.” She and Nic both rested their hands on the other bot’s shoulders, as was customary before a King of the Hill match. “Okay. I’ll count down from five and then we start on zero. Five—” She pulled the pin from one of the Grenades in his belt and turned to run.

He tripped her. In the same motion, he yanked the Grenade from his belt and chucked it as hard as he could. The explosion was far enough away that it only pelted them with non-damaging dust and a slight aftershock.

She looked back at the aftermath of the Grenade, then at Nic, back and forth. “How the—”

“You might have gotten away with it,” said Nic. He pulled the pins on both of her Grenades with one hand and shoved her off the hill with his boot. “With somebody else.”

As the proxybot tumbled clumsily down the hill, she managed to pull out one of the Grenades and was in the process of disposing of it when they both exploded on her, destroying her instantly.

PLAYER 376 [DEAD] KILL! | +100pts PLAYER 443: 400pts [11TH]

Unbelievable, he thought. I’m getting left in the dust. Enough screwing around, Siegfried—I don’t think they award style points! Still, I’m glad I remembered how to handle underhanded parties trying to make a deal with me...

He unstrapped his SMG and dove for better cover.

***

When Nic was growing up, he and his classmates were required to play a variety of sims each week. In their free time, they could play any sims of their choosing, or consume static media like movies, shows, music, books, or holos. Trigger Point was far and way Nic’s favorite; he’d sink hours of free time a week into that one. But a close second was Elvenchant, a fantasy-style RPG sim full of magic and distantly removed from the humdrum reality of modern technology.

Elvenchant was unique among sims in that it was the only one—at least among the sims PPI let students access—that operated on a real-time, 24-hour day-and-night cycle. He and his classmates were required to play the age-restricted portion of the game starting in Year 2, with the full version open to them by Year 5. They spent a decade with the sim, exploring the lush wilderness that was so unlike the mostly barren surface of Ayrus, completing quests, and engaging in thrilling combat against wizards, goblins, ice spiders, and a slew of other NPCs.

“The great thing about this sim,” Magister Wahid had told him one day after class, “is that it teaches you the consequences of the choices you make. There are over a thousand different branching plotlines programmed into the game. Most students cannot even experience half of them by the time they graduate.” At this, Magister Wahid waved a finger of warning. “Whatever you do, don’t seek out spoilers from your classmates. Otherwise, you won’t learn anything. Understand?”

Without asking for any, Nic had heard some spoilers here and there from older classmates over the years—it was inevitable. He learned what would happen if he were to slay the Diamond Dragon of the Treasure Isles, the answer to the Dwarven Riddle of Yore, and a few locations of the First Tome’s missing pages. He even learned how to cheese the Magma Golem, one of the most frustrating bosses in the sim.

One thing he never learned before it was too late, however, was what to do with Vandorak.

Vandorak was a reptilian merchant who sold basic items and potions in the port city of Rilden. If a player spoke to him, he would give them a quest: retrieve a rare item that had been stolen from his shop and hidden in a cave. The quester would receive 100 gold as payment upon completion. Nic had taken the quest without a second thought, eager to venture where other players may not have tread.

Nic never wondered why a thief would hide what they’d stolen instead of selling or using it. If he had, he might have considered that the item was dangerous or worthless—or, better yet, the real reason for the odd, secretive quest.

Upon locating the specified cave and slaying the goblins guarding a treasure trove, Nic was rewarded with over 4,000 gold and an inert item with a black silhouette simply tagged “Glove.” He returned it to Vandorak, who accepted the item eagerly and donned it at once.

Then the sim revealed the true name of the treasure—the Glove of Pickpocketing.

His Lorebook revealed that this item maxed out any player or NPC trait of Thievery to 80. Once it was activated, Vandorak used it to swipe Nic’s entire inventory, including all of his equipped items, and left him with only 100 gold. Several years worth of in-sim work, crafting his own weapons and armor, even naming some of his items and bonding with them—all gone in an instant. The thief slipped away and, for over two years in real life, Nic had been unable to locate him.

It was probable that Vandorak had maxed out his Stealth trait as well, but there was no way of knowing without being able to check the sim’s code. Nic spent the following two years rebuilding his inventory, grinding to restore a fraction of what he’d lost. He leveled up his Hunting trait at every opportunity.

And when the time came for him to track down Vandorak’s new hiding spot, on another one of Elvenchant’s eleven continents, his revenge was sweeter than any agridome fruit he’d ever tasted. Even though Vandorak was just an NPC designed to trick him, it felt like Nic had righted a wrong.

Upon dying after the completion of the initial quest, Vandorak was scripted to say, “See how your trust is rewarded? I almost got away with it, too...” Nic took back all of his stolen items and loot, and more valuably, he took with him a lesson on trusting too quickly and too fully.

A lesson that followed him to his Final Exam.

***

MILESTONE ACHIEVED! (400pts) REQUEST WEAPON DROP? (Y/N)

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Nic. His HUD accepted his optic inputs and brought up a small menu of options with added descriptions.

WEAPON DROPS AVAILABLE (1)

>>SHOTGUN

A pump-action firearm that shoots a shell of dispersed projectiles. Ideal for close-combat situations.

*Close-range: Lethal to enemy target. Mid-range: Can damage multiple targets. Long-range: Ineffective.

Ammo: Shotgun Shell (12)

>>SNIPER RIFLE

A semi-automatic rifle with a triple-setting scope that shoots armor-piercing rounds. Ideal for reconnaissance and long-range combat situations.

Close-range: Effective use impossible due to weapon length. Mid-range: Potentially lethal to enemy target given proficient unassisted aim. Long-range: *Lethal to enemy target.

Ammo: 5-Round Detachable Box Magazine (2)

>>ROCKET LAUNCHER

A shoulder-fired heavy weapon that shoots an unguided rocket-propelled explosive at 80m/s.

Close-range: Lethal to both user and enemy target(s). *Mid-range: Lethal to enemy target(s). Long-range: Can damage multiple targets, but often ineffective due to projectile travel time.

Ammo: 2-Rocket Detachable Box Magazine (2)

I need to rack up some kills pretty quick here to keep myself in the Top 100, Nic thought. Launcher it is. He selected the third option and the menu receded from his HUD.

Next, his head was tilted upward automatically without warning, and he soon saw why—the Arena’s ceiling was in motion. A band of corrugated astrosteel retracted to produce a jet-black pod that lowered from a compartment inside the ceiling. A second later, the pod shot down with a visible puff of vapor and an audible clap of pressurized air. It embedded itself in the Arena floor not far from Nic with a loud crunch, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

said RTIFIS.

It was helpful of the AI, but at only a few meters away, Nic didn’t really need directions. He strutted up confidently to the fruits of his labor. He thought about all the exciting kills he’d soon get with it.

And then another player climbed out of a trench to steal it.

“Hey!” Nic barked, unstrapping his SMG. He clenched the trigger and sprayed the thief with bullets. As he did so, he felt his proxybot making tiny, almost imperceptible automatic adjustments to his movements in tandem with his inputs.

said RTIFIS. That little tidbit tickled Nic’s fancy, but by the time the AI was finished speaking, the engagement was over; the target had already ducked behind the pod for cover.

PLAYER 213: [######-___]66%

“Don’t hate the player!” 213 called out. “It’s a free-for-all, dude! I saw an opportunity and went for it!”

RTIFIS chimed in.

Nic discarded his empty magazine and slapped in a fresh one. “I get it. Trust me, this is nothing personal.”

“Wait! Let’s make a deal!”

Nic grinned in his SimSuit and shook his head. “I’ve already wasted enough time humoring that today.” He circled the Weapon Drop pod. Raised his gun—

“I’ll trade you!”

“I don't know what you could trade me that’s worth more than a Kill.”

“You need me to spell it out for you? Multiple Kills!” By this time, Nic had already cornered Player 213 on the other side of the pod. His enemy was wearing a yellow octagon on his chest; strangely, though, it didn’t register as an active Upgrade Pak on Nic’s HUD. 213 had his hands raised; maybe he could go for a weapon or Grenade, but he’d have to be lightning fast. Nic wondered why he was hesitating.

He wants the Rocket Launcher that badly, Nic realized. He can’t just kill us both. He can’t risk someone else taking it.

“Tell me how you plan to get me Kills.”

“I’m Jarek, by the way,” said Player 213, raising his hands higher in a gesture of apparent goodwill. “Well, right off the bat, I have an Upgrade Pak with your name on it. Right here. An Overclock.”

“And you’re parting with it out of the goodness of your heart.”

“The goodness of a trade, man! Plus, it’s not really my style.”

“No deal.” Nic raised his gun again.

“And!” Jarek interjected. “And... I know where another Upgrade Pak is. And I don’t think anyone’s claimed it. I’ll lead you to it. Give you covering fire.”

“Not quite sweet enough. Sorry. This Weapon Drop is pretty much four guaranteed kills—”

Jarek held up his hands defensively. “How about this? I’ll let you put the hurt on ‘em first. 50% damage gets you an Assist. Every 100 points I get, you get 50 of your own. AND the Paks. What do you say?”

“I’d say you must really want this Launcher.”

Jarek’s proxy nodded and shrugged in an oddly human way that belied its robotic nature. His SimSuit must have been calibrated thoroughly. “I do. I’ve got 5 Kills so far—”

“Oh, so you’re—”

“—and 8 deaths,” Jarek finished before Nic jumped down his throat. “And I had to fight tooth-and-nail for those first four, man. First kill that really came easy to me was with a Launcher.” Hearing those words made Nic reconsider. “Way I see it, I’d get killed twice way faster than I can get another three kills on my own, let alone five. Shoot, you were about to claim Life #9 if I didn’t say nothin’!”

“I still might.” Nic said that, but then he lowered his gun. “You’re worried about getting eliminated.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Jarek asked, and Nic nodded. “They never told us about the Final growin’ up. They never talked about fighting for planets or stuff like that. But they always told us to study hard and do well... or else we’d end up workin’ dead-end jobs for hardly any pay. All those field trips we took... The domes. The atmosphere pumps. We were just kids on a field trip, man, but all those workers there, that was their lives. And all their hard work, they get hardly nothin’ to show for it! All because they failed the Final...”

“We won’t fail, then.” Nic held out his hand and helped Jarek up. “I want to win just as much as you do. If not more. I’m a man of my word and I need to know if you are, too.”

“I don’t go back on promises, bro. Truce? Partners?” This time Jarek held out his hand and Nic shook it reluctantly.

“Truce. At least until you get me that next Upgrade Pak. Full disclosure... I can’t make any promises after that. And if you cross me even once—”

“I know. You’ll kill me... Can’t blame you. I’d do the same.” Jarek nodded. “Truce for now. I’ll tell you otherwise before I make any moves.”

“Likewise.”

“I’m gonna reach for the first half of your payment here, okay?” Very slowly, as if defusing a bomb, Jarek pulled the yellow octagon off his proxy’s chest and handed it over. Nic’s HUD tagged it as Overclock. Jarek handed it over and Nic grabbed it hastily, attaching it to his own chest without activating it. Doing so prompted RTIFIS to feed him details about his unused pickup.

Nic gestured to his Weapon Drop pod. “Go on, then. Your trade earned it.”

Jarek grabbed the handle on the outside of the pod and yanked the hatch open. The pod’s vertical doors then hissed open and a mechanical stand whirred out to present him with the Rocket Launcher. Privately, Nic had a pang of regret—it looked like a sweet way to score some Kills. But his interest in more Upgrade Paks, coupled with his sympathy for Jarek’s teetering on the edge of elimination, made it difficult to pass up the trade.

He had to trust that it wouldn’t backfire on him.

“Okay, then,” said Jarek, hefting the Rocket Launcher onto his shoulder and turning to face Nic. Then he detached the Pistol from his belt and discarded it to the ground. “Get your Grenades ready to do some damage. I’ll mop ‘em up.”

“I forgot to tell you, I’m Nic.”

“Nic, huh? Well, Nic... Let’s go win this thing, shall we?”