Joan slipped through the sliding doors of the Boom Arcade, the arcade she frequented nearly every day after school.
Mortal Strike had notably become somewhat of an addiction, but Joan couldn't get enough of the simulated battlefield.
Joan's pupils dilated to adjust to the dim lighting, and she headed to the Mortal Strike modules in the back of the arcade as usual. Since the first time she visited, the arcade had added 5 additional modules.
Their plush seats beckoned Joan forth, and she ducked under the hood of the chair to settle herself down. Beside her, Navier and the Grimm Bros did the same.
"Ranked or Normals?" Navier asked.
Mortal Strike had a ranking system with five different tiers. The majority of players resided in the lowest tier—Steel. From then on, Gold, Master, Immortal, and Apex followed.
A separate ranking system existed for teams of five players but had the same tiers. Joan, Navier, and the Grimm Brothers had been stuck in Immortal for some time. Needless to say, Joan blamed her team for dragging her down. She was quite confident she could climb to Apex in the solo ranking system.
"Ranked, of course." Joan insisted on reaching Apex by the end of this month.
But as she began to invite her teammates, the sound of familiar voice pricked her ears. Peeking under her chair's hood, she spotted Mad Dog, Black Dog, Jackal, and two boys she didn't know head toward the Mortal Strike modules.
"We've got company," Joan said.
Viktor peeked under his hood and reeled in disgust at the familiar face.
Upon approaching the modules, Mad Dog noticed a familiar face peeking out from one of the five occupied modules. His face visibly contorted, and the corner of his lips drew back. His brows furrowed as creases rippled along his forehead.
"Viktor," Mad Dog spat.
Mad Dog's eyes scanned over the four pairs of legs peeking out from Viktor's neighboring modules. He could guess who they were with minimal effort.
A pair of long, feminine, but muscular legs under the M High School skirt sat to the left of Viktor and Pablo's right. Mad Dog gritted his teeth as he recognized the distinctive legs that had broken Kings's nose.
"Man, let's ditch," Black Dog groaned with his eyes narrowed.
"No, it'll be fine," Mad Dog insisted. He refused to let that bitch push him around.
Mad Dog ducked under the hood of a module, leaving one vacancy between him and Pablo.
"Hey, isn't that Rem?" Trey, one of the juniors that tagged along, whispered to his friend. "I heard she's really good. Maybe we should try and hop in a game with them."
Mad Dog gnawed at his lower lip, his sharp canines nearly drawing blood.
"Yeah, for sure. Better than playing with these noobs," Medea, the other junior, whispered back.
He had brought the pair because they were rumored to be reasonably good at Mortal Strike. But now, Mad Dog's anger was beginning to make him regret the decision.
A vein in Mad Dog's forehead popped. "Have you ever seen her play?" Mad Dog asked. "She's trash, bro. I'm way better than her."
Black Dog gave him a quizzical look. Mad Dog had never mentioned playing Mortal Strike or any first-person shooter before. But Black Dog shrugged the matter off, not wanting to pour water over his friend's flaming ego.
"For real? You're better than an Immortal player?" Medea said with an impish grin on her face. "I want to see you play her." Among the juniors, she was well-known for her loose tongue and devilish smile. If Mad Dog were to reject her request, Medea would be sure to spread rumors of Mad Dog's shallow ego and horrible gaming skills.
Mad Dog clenched his fist. He shouldn't have brought these two juniors. "F-Fine." He prayed Medea didn't notice his subtle stutter as he stepped out of his module. With weak legs, he approached Rem's module and knocked on the hood of it.
The sound startled Rem, who was about to start a game. She peeked under her hood to check who it was. "What do you want?"
Mad Dog averted his eyes from her cold stare. "1v1," he mumbled, but his words blurred together into a string of nonsensical jumbo.
Joan raised her brow. "Huh?"
"Let's 1v1," Mad Dog spoke up.
Joan looked at Viktor and Pablo, who were peeking out from under their hoods to see the action. Viktor eagerly nodded at her, and Joan took it as confirmation that they wouldn't mind waiting for her.
"Okay, what's your username?" Joan reverted her gaze to Mad Dog.
A drop of cold sweat dripped down the side of Mad Dog's templed as he remembered he hadn't made an account yet.
"Uh, i-it's." Mad Dog's eyes flitted around the arcade as if he were trying to find an escape from his current situation. "Mad, underscore, dog, 200."
As he talked, he rushed back into his module, desperate to make his account before Joan realized his account didn't exist yet.
As Mad Dog ducked under the hood, he slammed his forehead against the hard plastic. He groaned, rubbed his head, and settled himself into the seat.
The chair had separate portions for each of his limbs, and they squeezed him, measuring and detecting his weight, muscle mass, and height. The foreign feeling tickled at Mad Dog's senses, and he squirmed uncomfortably in the chair.
As the chair's helmet latched onto his head, his limbs froze, and his heart began to race. What was going on? Why couldn't he move? He rapidly looked around to find that all he could move was his head.
When he tried to move his body, a character on the screen moved. The character had his back turned to Mad Dog, but his movements were perfectly synced with Mad Dog's movements.
Trembling, he pressed 'Create Account' and began to type in his username. But before he could enter in all his details, Rem called from her module, "Your account doesn't exist."
Mad Dog rapidly typed in his account information. "Try again."
Joan typed in his username once more, and to her surprise, she successfully sent him a friend request. She titled her head to the side. She could have sworn she typed it right the first time, so why did it only work just now?
When she took a look at his account page, her brows furrowed. Had his account been created just now? In addition, his game history was a blank slate. He'd never played the game before. A look of realization flashed over her face along with a slight smirk. This would be easy.
'Joan has challenged Mad_Dog200 to a 1v1.'
'Mad_Dog200 has accepted the challenge.'
The surroundings around Joan morphed into a random terrain, and Joan immediately recognized the environment as Mead. With its distinctive open landscape, are distant farmhouses, there was no way Joan wouldn't be able to recognize it.
On the other hand, Mad Dog sweat nervously in his chair as he peered around the unfamiliar terrain. His inventory was full of guns that he didn't know the difference between, and the foreign controls felt awkward.
He stood at the side of a dirt road that led to dull farmhouses and expansive fields. To him, everything looked the same, and he could hardly tell the difference between the house to his left and the right.
As Mad Dog glanced to his right, he saw another character. Compared to his plain, gray jumpsuit, she was far more customized. Her long, black hair was tied in a ponytail, and loose fitted army pants hung around her waist.
The girl turned to look at Mad Dog, and upon spotting him, a gun appeared in her hands.
Mad Dog paled. He looked around, desperate to find a place to hide, but the open terrain provided no safe cover.
Giving up, he ran to his right, where a nearby farmhouse stood around 25 yards away. He pushed his legs as fast as possible, but before he could even make its 10 yards, his screen turned red.
Bang!
'Headshot!'
'Joan has slain Mad Dog.'
Medea stifled her laughter. "You didn't even last 15 seconds," she guffawed while slapping her thigh.
"I was just warming up," Mad Dog growled. "I'll get her next time."
But even Jackal and Black Dog were able to sense his unfamiliarity with the game. "Man, just give up." Jackal shook his head.
Mad Dog's teeth clashed against each other, and a tingle in his arms urged him to punch something.
'Round 2' appeared on the screen, and Mad Dog furrowed his brows in a poor attempt to focus better.
He let out a deep breath as the world around him shifted once more. However, instead of finding himself in an outdoor terrain as he expected, closed corridors surrounded him.
Curiously, he looked around. Pictures of stagers hung on the walls, and doors that led to who knows where remained closed.
Joan grinned when she realized where they were―Mason Mansion.