Bursting onto the roof of the skyscraper, Zeke was greeted by the full noir spectrum of the game, of black spires arching into the heavens above him, lighting scattering between the dark spirits in glimmering flashes. A gust of wind whistled over his skin, every hair on his body feeling the sensation, the fingers of icy tracing patterns on his dark skin. The first fat drop of rain smacked directly onto his forehead and ran down his face in rivulets, mixing with his own sweat before dripping into his open mouth, held there by his stunned expression. Only the arrival of Tyrin jolted him from his moment of universal enlightenment.
"If you want my help you need to slow down," Tyrin said. "I don't have your crazy kit."
"I know," Zeke said, apologizing. "I want you to move up with me. Partners?"
"Partners," Tyrin smiled.
"Good," Zeke said, pointing to the rocket launchers that were heaped against the edge of the building. "Then let's get to work. You grab a MANPADS, I'll shoot for ground targets."
"You got it," Tyrin said, already moving to pick up one of the anti-aircraft launchers.
Confidently striding across the concrete roof panels, Zeke snatched up a guided missile launcher and hefted it onto his soldier's muscular frame. Bracing the heavy unit on the edge of the building, he looked down and saw that the friendly armor column had stalled and was being pushed back by the enemy.
"Perfect shots," Zeke said, seeing the rear armor of the tanks. "More points for us."
Zeke took aim at the rearmost tank and got a clean tone in his ear, signaling that the missile had locked onto the target. Squeezing the trigger, the launcher erupted, the missile bursting from the tube before diving down into the jungle, following the marker Zeke had painted on the back of the tank. He felt the hot exhaust gas of the missile against his skin and jumped back, startled.
"Ow," Zeke muttered.
"What?" Tyrin asked, still scanning the sky for aerial threats.
"Nothing," Zeke said. "Just a little bit of a burn."
Zeke was absorbed with watching the missile, which tracked true, blasting into rear armor of the targeted tank and detonating inside, gutting the vehicle. Zeke's score rolled up by an order of magnitude, matching his destroying the vehicle and killing the crew inside.
As Zeke reloaded, a pair of walkers began to turn, looking for where the new attack was coming from. With a fresh missile in the tube, Zeke set the warhead to cluster mode and aimed at the space between the two tightly packed walkers, then he sent the warhead on its way. Riding a tail of sputtering flame and gray smoke, the missile flew between the two walkers and detonated. Dialed in as the warhead was, the munition blossomed into a sphere of high speed destruction, shrapnel expanding in an outward eruption. Jagged, hypersonic pieces of depleted uranium tore through the ligaments and joints of the walkers, causing the two mechanical creatures to stagger like drunks before crashing to the ground, the crews bailing out.
"Yeah! Scratch two!" Zeke exclaimed, watching his score leap again.
"That got their attention," Tyrin said, concern edging into his voice. "I've got an attack jet inbound."
"I'll let you handle it," Zeke said, focusing in on the next target.
"Ten seconds," Tyrin warned, his voice going up in pitch. "I'm locked on. Firing."
Zeke heard the missile launch, but was too busy looking through the viewfinder of his own launcher to see what was happening. Eager to keep boosting his score, he sighted in on the next tank and locked on. Just before he fired, Tyrin began shouting behind him.
"Got him. Oh, shit! He's got a friend! Get down!" Zeke's friend exclaimed.
Pulling his head away form the viewfinder of his launcher, Zeke looked into the swirling sky only to see an attack jet diving out of the sky, a falcon of death. Puffs of smoke erupted from the rocket pods nestled under the wings, followed by the blazing of the nose mounted cannon. Zeke was already moving, sprinting across the roof towards cover, trying to grab Tyrin who was still only beginning to react, despite being the first to see the enemy aircraft.
For a brief moment there was silence. Then the world around Zeke was swallowed up by hell as rockets rained down around him, exploding in ferocious waves, battering his body with heat and concussive force. The ground around him jumped into the sky, throwing him off balance and slamming him to the hard concrete. Jagged chunks of building material stung his skin as the jet's cannon rained down destruction, while chunks of the roof caved in and fell away under the onslaught of the rockets. Fortunately or unfortunately, one of the holes kept tearing, until it became large enough to swallow Zeke and Tyrin, sending them tumbling into the interior of the structure. An overwhelming noise filled Zeke's head, making it impossible to think, while his eyesight juddered and vibrated. He hit the inside of the building like a ton of bricks, then lay very still. Tyrin crashed to the floor beside him, then rolled over and staggered to his feet. His body was a shadow against the dull artificial light that entered from outside, thick, choking dust transforming the pair into wounded silhouettes.
"Zeke! Zeke!" Tyrin said, scrambling to his friend. "Zeke, you still in the game?"
Zeke coughed hard and rolled over, his entire body aching.
"That's not supposed to happen," Zeke said.
"I know what you mean. That jet really did a number on us," Tyrin said.
"No, that's not what I meant," Zeke said, continuing to hack up dust. "I mean I'm in pain."
"What the hell do you mean you're in pain?" Tyrin said, nervous.
"I mean this thing is too damn real. Going to have to adjust the settings or something," Zeke replied.
"I'm sure it's all in your head, man," Tyrin said. "Can you move?"
Zeke tested his limbs and found them more or less working, though he could feel stinging lacerations all over his body and his head was pounding.
"I really should have calibrated this thing better," he said, staggering to his feet. Shaking his head, he got his mind back into the game. "What's our score?"
"Holy shit, we're second and third," Tyrin said, stunned. "Even better, the match is almost over."
"Who's first?" Zeke asked, his edge coming back.
"Player named 'GolgoXIII,'" Tyrin said. "He's playing as a sniper."
"The GolgoXIII?" Zeke said.
"I don't know. Yes?" Tyrin said, confused.
"Tyrin," Zeke said condescendingly, "Golgo isn't just a player. He's an assassin. If he's in our match we need to take him out. Quick, what's his--"
Zeke's question was interrupted when the window glass before him shattered, sending razor sharp pieces spiraling through the air. More dangerous, however, was the sniper's bullet that had destroyed the window. The round smacked Tyrin in the arm, knocking him to the ground.
"Ah, shit. I'm hit," Tyrin said nonchalantly.
Zeke reflexes jumped to 11 as he focused his eyes out the window and across to where the shot was fired, zeroing in on a dark figure on a balcony across the square. Still feeling unstoppable in his hyper-aware state, Zeke reached back to draw his rifle, his wolf grin starting to return. He knew in that instant that he would take down Golgo, leapfrogging him on the scoreboard and straight into the professional gaming circuit.
A deep, stabbing pain blossomed from Zeke's right shoulder and he staggered back, his arm going limp as he crashed into the wall, bracing against it to hold himself up. Blood cascaded down his disabled arm as stars swam in his vision, the color bleeding out of the once vibrant world.
"What the fuck? What the fuck?" he heard himself asking.
"Zeke, what's wrong?" Tyrin said, crawling over to him.
Zeke had made a mistake in bracing himself against the wall, which left him exposed and in Golgo's line of sight. The next round hit Zeke in the chest. He felt the slug pass through his thorax, gliding just under his heart which now beat in an irregular pattern. Warmth bubbled out of his lungs and mouth, even as his limbs became heavy and cold. He slid down the wall to the ground, collapsing over onto his side, his digital blood streaked down the torn wallpaper, a pattern of cherry blossoms now stained in crimson.
Zeke's tried to draw breath but couldn't, causing him to thrash in panic, but his limbs wouldn't respond.
"Zeke! Zeke!" Tyrin shouted in his ear, but the voice was far and away. "Zeke! Pull the plug, man! Pull the fucking plug!"
As the world became a pinpoint of light in his eyes, Zeke reached out with his last sliver of consciousness and force quit the game.
And we'll stop there before wrapping up next week. Then we'll go into hell, er, editing.
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