In the end, however, it was all fake. She couldn’t really hurt them. Even if she killed them both and blew up the basement, they would respawn and Sharpe could rebuild it with infinite materials. Rivalries like these were just part of the fun.
As soon as they emerged from Sharpe’s base with their weapons brandished, Taylor lifted her hands. She was about a year younger than either of the boys, but more cunning and devious than both. There was no real hatred in her eyes, only that playful look she got when she was thinking about winning.
She must have a game in mind, Ethan thought.
“I come in peace, compadres,” she said, her arms still in the air. A smile crossed her face — she wasn’t worried about their weapons.
“How do we know that?” Sharpe asked. He held a pump-action shotgun that Ethan knew shot laser beams.
“You don’t, really,” she admitted, “but putting myself at your mercy like this would be a pretty funny way to start a brawl.”
“What do you want?” Ethan asked.
Her crystal blue eyes shifted over to him.
“Our birthday is coming up, you know,” she started.
“Don’t call it ‘our’ birthday, Taylor,” Ethan stopped her. “We’re not brother and sister or something. It’s just your birthday and my birthday. Got it?”
“But why, Ethan?” she replied. A bit of golden blonde hair fell in her face. She didn’t move to fix it, though; subtle things like that didn’t actually tickle in the simulation.
“What do you mean?” Ethan said, his eyebrow cocked.
“I mean, we could combine our forces to have one last fun sendoff before we graduate from the simulation,” she answered. “We could share our nineteenth birthdays in the spirit of competition.”
“You want to play some sort of game together?”
“That’s right,” she said. “The winner gets to enter the real world with bragging rights. Plus, it could add to your score just before graduating.”
“No,” Sharpe said. “We don’t want to do that.”
Ethan looked over at his friend. He felt a little strange about him answering for him, but his sentiments were the same.
“No?” Taylor asked. “Why not?”
“Because we tried that before and you cheated,” Ethan stepped in. “You lorded it over me for a whole year and no one believed me.”
“You’re right, Ethan,” Taylor said. “I cheated. But we were only ten. You can’t hold that kind of stuff against me forever. I was kind of a little bitch, and if I remember right, you were a pretentious weirdo. It’s not like that anymore — at least, not entirely.” She couldn’t keep herself from smirking. “No funny business. I promise.”
Ethan looked over at Sharpe as if to ask his thoughts on the challenge. There was an interested expression on his friend’s computerized face.
“What do you have in mind?” Sharpe asked.
Taylor’s eyes lit up. It was clear that she hadn’t been sure if they would humor her.
“Last Stand,” she replied. “Heard of it?”
“Sounds familiar,” Ethan said, scrunching his face up as he tried to recall from where.
“A bunch of us enter the map — dozens of us — but only one can win,” she explained. “It’s a hunt-or-be-hunted situation. Last person left alive on the map is the victor.”
Ethan couldn’t deny that the concept intrigued him. Some of the details were starting to come back to him, as he remembered watching an interview about the game mode while it was still in development. If he remembered correctly, it involved finding weapons, sneaking across the map, and fighting for your life. Like something out of the Hunger Games.
“What’s the catch?” he asked.
That’s when Taylor’s grin grew even wider. She was obviously proud of whatever twist she invented for the Last Stand challenge.
“Spit it out already!” Sharpe demanded.
“We stake all of our points on the game,” she said, barely able to contain her delight. “Winner takes all.”
Shedding
“What took you so long?” Abenayo asked once Tera arrived on location. “I paged you fifteen minutes ago.”
Hello to you, too, Tera thought as she approached the scene.
They stood outside one of the few churches scattered around Slumside. It was an old wooden building with a short steeple. It was covered in white paint that was splitting and peeling away in the hot city sun. A few other officers patrolled around the area, their weapons already deployed and readied. The late afternoon sun caught all the bodyshells in such a way that they looked like a bunch of dazzling gems.
“I got here as fast as I could,” Tera replied. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got a group of armed people inside. Maybe an I.I. or two, but we haven’t confirmed anything. At least a dozen humans, though. The terrorists just finished shooting down about twenty-nine people in Murphy Square. Witnesses say they were spouting some sort of scripture or something; we don’t have an exact quote.”
Tera’s interest was piqued.
“Religious terrorists?” Tera said. “Don’t hear a lot about them.”
“Well, this looks like a new religion,” Abenayo continued. “According to people who saw the shooting, the things they were shouting were anti-human in nature. Pro-I.I.”
“Pro-I.I.?” Tera echoed. “In Slumside?”
“I know,” Abenayo replied. “That’s why we needed the backup. We have no idea what we’re dealing with here. Christian extremists, Muslim extremists; they’re easier to predict.”
“Has anyone gone in yet?” Tera asked.
“Not yet, rookie,” Abenayo said. “This is one of the most important lessons of the trade: expect anything and prepare accordingly. You loaded?”
Tera checked the ammo readout on her heads-up display. She could fire for a full two minutes straight without running out of 5.56 rounds. She gave her partner a nod.
The two of them went to the front of the church and, with one big heave of their shoulders, threw open the double doors. The sunlight poured into the church’s tiny reception area, glinting off a brass cross behind the front desk. The wallpaper was starting to peel like the paint on the outside and the
