Gunfire erupted almost instantly as he stepped outside, impacts peppering the street and wall directly to his left. Kurt ducked and ran, acting on instinct as he darted out into the street. He tried to look for the shooter but in doing so was nearly struck by a rounded yellow taxi cab sliding to a stop with a squeal of tires and an angry horn blare. Ignoring the driver’s impolite shouts, Kurt ran, hunched over, trying to dart between cars as the traffic around him began to back up.
Another burst of gunfire spattered the area near him, sinking into the NPC vehicles and causing civilians to panic. The traffic jam moved as a herd, all pushing forward at the same time. Kurt was knocked down by a passing vehicle with a screaming woman inside. His elbow throbbed with dull simulated pain, and a quick glance at his phone’s home screen showed a drop of about a fifth of his total health bar next to a little rotating dollar sign icon and the number ‘100’.
The last of the traffic jam moved past, and he scrambled through the rushing cars on his hands and knees. A throaty burst of gunfire sounded again, rounds striking the ground around him as he changed direction. This time he got a decent look at where the shooter was firing from, a second-story window directly across from the spawning building. As Kurt reached for his handgun, he heard a hollow puff sound from behind him. A rocket streaked from a nearby rooftop into the gunman’s window, and the street was rocked by an explosion. Debris rained down onto the NPC traffic and caused the panicked drivers to streak off in different directions.
Still firmly planted on his ass, Kurt looked up to where the smoke trail from the rocket led. A man in a tactical outfit covered by thick armor gave him a crisp salute before turning to run along the edge of the building. Kurt watched, wide-eyed, as the man sprinted to the corner overlooking the street and jumped, turning in midair to swing into the wall and rappel down. As Kurt watched this happen, a disgustingly orange car rumbled to a stop next to him. It was an old lowrider-style 1963 Lincoln Continental with suicide doors and an absurdly long hood and trunk. Seated in the driver’s seat was Jimmy, a big smile plastered on his face.
“Get in, scrub, before you get us both killed!” He leaned over and extended a hand to his friend. Jimmy kept his sandy hair in a short buzz, his friendly round face familiar but dramatically enhanced in the game. Contrary to his somewhat diminished physique in real life, he was covered in muscle, though his pale skin tone remained true to form. He looked around, suspicious. “Somebody shootin’ off RPGs around here?”
Kurt scrambled on his hands and knees to dive into the car, and Jimmy pulled away from the curb at the highest speed the car would allow. He was wearing a plain white sleeveless undershirt, with several gold and silver chains around his neck and a pair of bright orange swimming trunks that matched the car. “What the hell was that!?” Kurt scrambled to get his legs in through the door of the moving vehicle as it swung closed.
Jimmy played with the radio, glancing up at the windshield occasionally to steer. “A pretty clean pickup, I’d say.” He looked over at Kurt huddled in the seat, slid half-way onto the floor of the car. “Why, you get hit or something?”
“I’ve been in-game all of twenty seconds, and somebody shot at me, and then somebody else blew something up and then swung away. Why was he swinging??” Kurt pulled himself up into the seat, fastening his seat belt with shaking hands. He glanced at his phone’s main menu to see his health bar restored. It was only then he realized that his elbow no longer hurt.
With a chuckle, Jimmy turned a corner. “Welcome to the Life, man.” He glanced in his rearview mirror at the mess they had left behind. “Spawn campers. Scum of Illusion, but what can you do?” He shrugged.
“Hit them with a rocket, apparently.” Kurt leaned forward and patted his gun, making sure it was still in place. It hadn’t moved, to his relief.
Jimmy noticed, raising an eyebrow. “You won’t lose your gun, dude. Whatever holster you have will just keep it in place, even if it should technically fall out. Part of the mechanics.” He paused and thought for a moment. “I mean, you can lose it yourself. Like, if you panic in a gun fight or something.” With that he reached beside his seat and pulled out a blocky-looking submachine gun with an ugly loop at the business end, ported heatsink around the base of the barrel, and a wire frame stock. The gun was gold-plated and had a white rabbit’s foot charm hanging from the trigger guard. He folded the magazine port down from under the barrel, slid out the stock with his teeth, and laughed at the incredulous look on his friend’s face.
“What in the hell is that thing?” Kurt held his wrist up to the gun and tapped the middle of his screen, but the scan option wouldn’t engage.
“Can’t scan down someone else’s gear while it’s on ‘em. Here, try now.” Jimmy set the gun onto the center console of the car, swerving and slowing to avoid a collision.
Kurt hovered his wrist over the gun and swiped the scan option. This time, the scanner spit out a page for him to look at. The gun was a MAT 49 submachine gun. It boasted a 32-round magazine, and bonuses to concealment when in its folded down state. Kurt noted that the bonuses were shot to hell with the addition of the gold plating, and the gun had an aggro warning floating in place next to its nameplate.
MAT 49
Submachine Gun. Primary/Secondary. Firearm drops upon death and can be picked up by any player in the vicinity.
Caliber: 9mm.
Rate of Fire: 600 rounds per minute.
Capacity: 32 round magazine.
“Aggro?” Kurt swiped the screen closed, and Jimmy slid the gun back onto his lap.
“Yeah, it’s part of the mechanics. Bigger, more impressive guns tend to get a lot more attention in a fight,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve never really noticed a difference though.”
Kurt’s eyebrow raised. “You get in a lot of gunfights in this game?”
Jimmy just smiled in response, his eyes widening slightly. He kept driving them away from the spawn point, into a residential area. As he pulled over to an empty curb, he looked around, scanning the area. “Okay, I think we’re clear. First things first, pull up your options menu and turn off aim assist.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Kurt looked at him in confusion. “But I’ve never fired a gun before. Shouldn’t I keep that on?”
Shaking his head, Jimmy explained, “Naw, it just turns near misses into center mass hits or grazes occasionally, like one in five or something. But with aim assist turned off that basically means it no longer applies to you. At all.” He raised his eyebrows significantly, before slumping with a sigh. “If you have your aim assist off, nobody else’s works against you. The learning curve is a little steeper for sure, but you’ll pick it up in no time, and it makes a massive difference for PvP.”
Shrugging, Kurt swiped through his options menu and turned off aim assist. “Right, done. Now when I miss all my shots, it’ll be your fault.”
Jimmy laughed. “Just start off with close range, you’ll be fine. Oh hey, you wanna drive, man?”
With a nod, Kurt moved to exit the car. “Sure.” A notification popped up on his wrist, and he swiped at it as he moved around the back of the car to the driver’s side.
Primary
Liar Rank 1. (Interaction)
“All the truth in the world adds up to one big lie.” Bob Dylan - 2000
Dishonesty is a core concept in the criminal world. Any dishonest interaction receives a 1% bonus to succeed when interacting with NPCs of any kind. This skill will also occasionally help cover up mistakes (stammers, misplaced words, hesitation markers, etc.) in dishonest interactions with other players.
Frowning, Kurt swiped the notification away. He flopped down in the driver’s seat and pursed his lips in annoyance. After managing a series of adjustments to the mirrors and seat, he buckled his belt and pulled away from the curb. Jimmy chuckled beside him, shaking his head.
“Wearing your seat belt like it’s the real world, man. You really are a noob.” He swiped at his own wrist a few times, before leaning over and making a tossing motion at the windshield. A map sprang into view in front of Kurt, who promptly swiped it out of his main field of view to a corner of the windshield. A line in bright red cut through the city streets. “Would you kindly follow that? We have a little business to attend to.” The last was said with a smile that made Kurt uncomfortable.
Two additional notifications popped up on Kurt’s wrist, and he carefully swiped them open while driving.
Primary
Driving Rank 1. (Mobility)
“In driving, one assumes the danger of destroying life, beginning with one’s own.” Richard T. Kelly - 2011
The skilled operation of basic motor vehicles is essential to any criminal operation. Vehicle speed, handling, and durability is increased by 1%. This bonus applies to any vehicle the player operates.
Primary
Cartography Rank 1. (Mobility)
“Are we there yet?” - Unknown
Clever use of the map can be instrumental to several aspects of criminal activities. Mini-map notification radius and sensitivity increased by 1%.
Kurt nodded with an appreciative shrug. Jimmy absentmindedly folded down the stock on his SMG while Kurt opened the skill notifications and peered over his shoulder. “What’d you get?”
“Uhh … map and driving?” Kurt glanced at the notifications again, before swerving to avoid a civilian as he exited the neighborhood, earning a colorful shout from the NPC.
Jimmy laughed. “Just don’t kill us playing with your menus, dude.”
Chuckling along with his friend, Kurt continued on the route the GPS laid out for them. The streets were sparsely populated with run-down houses, graffiti-covered warehouses, and unpleasant looking NPCs. People in the immediate area glared at them with suspicion or outright hostility. Within a few moments, they were nearing the end of the red line. Jimmy rolled down his window, clutching the SMG in his lap. Sensing what was coming, Kurt pulled over abruptly. “What are we doing?”
Jimmy flashed him a toothy smile. “A drive by, man, c’mon. Those guys up there in the blue shorts are a rival gang; I gotta keep ‘em in check.” Seeing Kurt grip the steering wheel tighter, Jimmy made a soothing motion with one hand. “It’s just a bunch of NPCs, dude, it's fine. They don’t even shoot back half the time. Just pull up across the street, I’ll spray ‘em down, you drive us out of here to someplace safe to wait out the heat, and then you can pick the next thing we do.”
Shaking his head, Kurt pulled away from the curb and started driving at a slow crawl towards the NPC gang. Young men wearing matching basketball shorts and bandanas stood clustered around a car in a driveway. They appeared to be playing a game, slapping playing cards down on the hood and jostling each other. Noting that they were on his side of the car, Kurt slouched down in his seat a little, trying to make himself a smaller target.
“Okay, keep it steady. Here we go.” Jimmy climbed part way out of his window, sitting on the sill and aiming his gun over the roof of the car. “Raise up now, muthafuckas!” he shouted, opening fire. The gun blew apart the still air in a series of sharp thuds, raining shells across the roof of the car as bullets ripped into the gang member NPCs. Kurt watched wide-eyed as the men fell in a heap, their own firearms clattering to the ground.
Jimmy hurriedly opened his door and rushed over to the area, to Kurt’s consternation. He produced a rolled up duffel bag and began to stuff all of the dropped firearms into it. After grabbing every gun and small bundle of loose cash he could find, he scrambled back to the car.
With a hoot of success and a slap to the roof, Jimmy slid back into his seat. He dropped out the spent magazine from his MAT 49 and fished a fresh one from his pocket, slipping it into place and tapping the bolt back into a ready position against the dashboard. Glancing at the confused expression on Kurt’s face, he shrugged. “Every little bit helps. Go, dude!” He looked out the rear windshield as police sirens began to sound in the near distance.
Pressing the spongy accelerator to the floor, Kurt noticed with a small degree of panic that the mini-map on the windshield had changed its outline. Red and blue lights dimly flashed around the outside of it and two small, gold bars pressed together in a slight V shape sat firmly above it. The heat indicator seemed to follow a theme of police ranks. The car fishtailed as he turned a corner, its wheels squealing in protest. Jimmy laughed as he was tossed against the car door.
Glancing at the mini-map on the windshield, Kurt noticed a red and blue strobing dot shaped vaguely like a car coming down the street towards them from the front. He turned quickly, cutting through a parking lot tucked into an alley. The streets were full of debris and people, and Kurt swerved madly as he tried to avoid them. The police car dot on the mini-map followed them down the alley, and Kurt glanced in his rearview to see a black and white Crown Victoria police cruiser slide into view and accelerate frighteningly.
With another of his gleeful laughs, Jimmy started climbing out of the window again. “You suck at this, my man! Pick up the pace!” He roared with laughter as he opened fire on the police cruiser behind them, his chains and necklaces whipping in the wind. His rounds struck the windshield, causing the driver to swerve into a parked car. Kurt made another turn, looking for an open road. He found a ramp onto the freeway and floored the gas pedal again, cutting off a civilian NPC car.
He maintained his speed once on the freeway and kept a paranoid eye on the mini-map, watching several other red and blue flashing dots converge on the cruiser Jimmy had shot. “Don’t we get in more trouble for shooting at the cops?”
Jimmy scoffed, relaxing back into his seat with an arm casually thrown over the bench seat’s backing. “Naw, man, only if you kill ‘em. The two bar heat is for popping off in public, so they are already doing the whole ‘armed and dangerous’ bit. You kill one and it goes up, but not just for shooting at ‘em. If, for example, you got a one bar and shot at ‘em, it’d bump up to a two bar.” He shuddered slightly at a memory. “You do not want to see a ten bar heat though.”
Kurt drove down an off ramp to avoid another police dot coming their way, and then weaved through a few alleyways until the bars began to flicker. He parked the car and turned the engine off, keeping an eye on the map. After a moment, the flashing bars simply dropped off the screen and they were free from the heat.
