Viktor bent down to bandage her, and when he finished, Joan stood back up, reinvigorated. "I'm gonna kill that bastard," she said, readying her 28-inch shotgun. "The inhabitable zone is shrinking. We're going to have to move."
Stealthily, Joan and her group slipped out of the backdoor and slouched to a nearby house. Now, only three houses stood inside the inhabitable zone. All were two-story houses. Joan moved to the top floor with Viktor, Turner, and Pablo, closely following her.
No one made a move. And neither did their opponents.
From the corner of her vision, Joan detected a moving figure. She whipped her head around to find Blackwolf, the boy she had missed.
She humorlessly laughed. "Moron." She set her shotgun in the pocket of her shoulder, relishing the perfect way the gun molded into her shoulder.
Bang!
'Joan has critically wounded Blackwolf.'
Joan tsked in annoyance. "No headshot?"
Bang!
'Joan has slain Blackwolf.'
The familiar vibrations reverberated through her shoulder, but the feeling was nowhere near as pleasurable as the real feeling of a gun's recoil, the tenderness of the area after it left a bruise, and the sweetness of shooting someone dead.
"Woah, Master, your aim is something!" Turner giggled happily. "We can get first!"
"The inhabitable zone is shrinking again," Viktor said. "We need to move."
"Moving would leave us open to the opposing team, though," Pablo countered.
"Well, do you think getting killed by the inhabitable zone would be any better?" Viktor backlashed.
"Shut up," Joan growled, heading downstairs to leave.
"Yes, Ma'am!" Turner giddily said as he followed Joan. Ah, what a loyal dog.
"The sniper's team should be in that house. They're going to have to move, too." Joan peeked at the house from the downstairs window but was unable to notice any movement. She frowned, feeling something was odd. "Let's wait for them to make the first move."
Joan continued to stare at the house, but nothing happened. Her brows kissed, and she instinctively felt something was amiss.
"Something's wrong," she muttered, but she couldn't quite place her finger on what bothered her.
Right as she did, the door burst open, slamming against the wall. The impact sent vibrations through the walls along with a twinge of shock in Joan.
A spray of bullets tore through the inside of the house, ravaging anything in its path.
"Shit!" Viktor yelled. "I told you! We needed to move!"
The spray of bullets killed both Viktor and Turner, and their bodies slumped dejectedly to the ground in pools of mixing blood.
Joan backed up, trying to put as much distance between her and the intruders. The opposing team had only lost one member up until now. It was a two-v-three situation for Joan and Pablo.
After thoroughly examining the Grimm Bros' fighting style, Joan had a reasonably accurate depiction of them. Viktor was well-rounded in all the weapons, Turner had decent aim with long-ranged guns and Pablo… was just bad.
He was the weak link of the team, and although the other two Grimms didn't want to tell him that, Joan had no problem with saying it to his face.
With only Pablo left, the situation didn't look favorable for Joan. Although she was fast, she wasn't fast enough to dodge a bullet. No one was.
Two boys and one girl entered their house, and Joan jumped back while firing her shotgun.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
She'd fired off five shots, but only managed to land a critical wound on one of the boys. "Ah, shit. My aim is getting worse."
However, the boy who was critically wounded was limited to crawling helplessly on the ground. He was as good as dead.
However, in that short timespan, Pablo had already managed to die. Before he died, he randomly fired his shotgun, but miraculously managed to miss all of his shots, even at such a short-range.
"Are you serious? Did you die already? How can someone be so horrible?" Joan spat, furiously jumping up and down to throw off the enemies' aim.
Pablo stayed silent and looked down at his lap in his module. His character pressed 'Exit Simulation,' and he dejectedly left the game.
Meanwhile, Joan continued to fire like mad, but her incessant jumping made her aim inaccurate, and she was only able to land the occasional hit.
Her health rapidly deteriorated, and she wouldn't be able to last much longer. Joan gritted her teeth as a surge of motivation crashed over her. She wouldn't lose. Losing wasn't a word in her book.
"C'mon, Master!" Turner cheered.
Joan's firing refused to cease, and bullets continued to rampage throughout the house. Multiple rounds nicked her body, occasionally embedding itself in one of her limbs.
The vibrations sent throughout the module as a result of the gun's recoil and the damage she took made it hard for her to aim correctly.
But she hadn't been professionally trained for nothing. She hadn't spent 50 years as a war machine for nothing.
'Joan has critically wounded Bebe.'
Now, the only one left was the one who'd sniped her: One Shot One Kill. After running out of ammo for her shotgun, she switched to her full-size pistol. The inventory was limited to holding a maximum of three weapons. Currently, Joan had a 28-inch shotgun, a full-size pistol, and a long-range sniper rifle.
One Shot One Kill switched guns as well, and Joan paled at the sight of it. A chill slithered up her spine and held her hand. Cold sweat formed on her feet, and she desperately wanted to turn and run.
In his hands was an automatic military assault rifle. He'd saved the best for last. The automatic military AR was the only automatic gun in the Mortal Strike, as well as the rarest.
The rest of the guns in the game were semi-automatic. One pull of the trigger fired one bullet. However, in an automatic, one pull of the trigger fired multiple rounds.
His rate of firing would be much faster. At this distance, Joan's pistol would be no match for his rifle.
One Shot One Kill immediately sprayed the house with bullets, and Joan threw herself behind the couch.
In real combat, the bullets would have quickly passed through the couch, but the furniture and walls blocked all shots in the game.
The spray of bullets ceased and an eerie silence befell the room. Joan knew that he was approaching her. Her palms began to perspire, and a drop of nervousness slid down her forehead.
What should she do?
Just how much freedom did the game give her? Could she steal someone else's gun from their hands?
Joan saw her opponent's feet come in front of her as she turned around the couch, she immediately sprung into action.
Before he could fire, she gripped the muzzle of his gun, turned it up toward the sky, and swung her fist at his face.
The impact snapped his head back, and he desperately tried to wriggle the gun from her grip. However, Joan's superhuman strength far outmatched his, and she continued to strike his face with her fist, enjoying the satisfaction of seeing blood ooze from his nose.
The sweet victory was just within her reach, mere inches away. She continued to pummel his face, but suddenly, One Shot One Kill let go of his AR.
In a surprise, Joan stumbled back. She'd gotten the gun!
She planned to turn the gun on him, and shoot him at point-blank range, but before she could, he automatically pulled a long-range sniper rifle from his inventory.
If someone dropped their weapon, the game automatically switched to the next item in their inventory.
The barrel of the gun pressed flush against her chest. Fear surged through Joan, numbing her brain, and she went to grab the barrel to turn it away from her. But before she could…
Bang!
'Congratulations! #2!'
"Shit!" Joan cursed. Number two? What a sick joke!
"Almost, almost!" Turner comforted her.
"See, she just had some beginner's luck at the beginning. She can't beat a seasoned player," Viktor smugly nodded to himself.
"We're playing again," Joan insisted. "We're getting first this time."
***
In a separate arcade, Isaac Louise cheered. "Hell yea! D'you see that, chat?"
Isaac was a popular Blast streamer with thousands of subscribers who paid money to watch his gaming content. He was one of the best snipers in Mortal Strike and was currently in the Top 100 players, earning him the 'Apex' rank.
Sitting at the foot of his module was a camera and a screen with an explosive chat.
"LOLOLOL"
"I didn't even know you could grab someone else's gun."
"Wtfff, broooo, you just got lucky, hahaha."
Isaac read the chat and scowled at the last message. "Luck my ass. You're just jealous you're because you're stuck in Steel." Isaac cackled. "Who's this Joan person? They gotta be on the Top 100. Mad skills."
He switched his screen to the player lookup and typed in Joan's name.
"Huh? She's a noob." Her account had only been created today.
Shortly after, the streaming chat exploded.
"Lmaoo, you almost lost to a noob."
"They prolly came from another game."
"They're smurfing[1] 100%."
"Chat, should I send her a friend request?" Pablo laughed. "I'll beat her ass in a 1v1."
Isaac pressed 'Add Friend'.
'Joan has accepted your friend request.'
'One Shot One Kill has challenged Joan to a 1v1.'
"Let's see if she accepts," Isaac smiled. But Joan didn't accept, and he frowned. "Wimp."
But just as he was about to retract his challenge, 'Joan has accepted the challenge.'
***
[1] - Smurfing: Game slang. Refers to a skilled, high-ranked player playing in a low-ranked account.