Gabs was happy. He was fed, paid, and armed. It was already nearing midday, and he hadn’t been hit yet! They were lucky to be picked out from the dregs and finally out from the compost farms. Now, following one of the newly arrived humans, they have been given a chance to be one of the fighters. Fighters! Not workers like Duzz and Gyrh who spend their days wiping dust away from the noisy machines!

Gabs clutched the double-barrelled shotgun as he followed along. It was newly bought from the station gunsmiths and was given to him, unlike the others who had to buy their own. Gabs should be proud, but he imagined it to be the other rifle showed to them by their new leader. They were different, and far more deadly. He promised it to be a reward for the goblin who earned it, and Gabs was determined to be that goblin.

Fleex walked ahead of him, both trailing behind Hartdegen as they followed him through the rail tunnels leading to the farther lines. A twinge of fear struck Gabs as he had never wandered farther than the shrine nor the station gates without being in a group larger than ten, but Hartdegen led the way without a care with just the three of them. It must be true then, what they say about the man, him walking through the Malif’s nest outside the southern lines, killing everybody in sight.

Gabs was skeptical about Crug’s story. When he got back, he claimed that he was there in the line and was part of the dead. Gabs always just assumed that he was an idiot, and a liar, but it seems that he was telling the truth.

Gabs’ mind wandered back to the gun. He wanted that gun; he wanted to be the best goblin working under Hartdegen, so he paced forward to go around Fleex and take his position in front of him.

Fleex did the same. Soon, the two were fighting for their spot to be a step behind their leader, only for Gabs to bump into him and fall to his butt as he suddenly stopped in his tracks. Fleex fell too, and Hartdegen turned around and looked down at him. Gabs shut his eyes, expecting the coming blow, which never came.

“Gabs right? Alright. You two get up.” Hartdegen ordered, “It’s time to teach you two which end of the gun to point at the enemy at least.”

Gabs scrambled to follow his orders. He was the first to get up, and he shoved Fleex to the ground as he tried to stand up, only to find a look of disapproval passed over Hartdegen’s face.

“Yeah. You better not keep doing that. You’re supposed to work together.” Hartdegen muttered, “Next time, try offering your hand instead of pushing him down.”

Gabs bowed his head, looking at his feet in shame, then flinching as Hartdegen lifted his chin. “Keep your head up. Never look down when I’m talking to you.” He said, turning to Fleex, “You hear that? It applies to you too.”

Hartdegen pulled his hand away and stepped back. Gabs followed, forcing his head up despite his instincts telling him to. He looked at his master. In the dark, the night vision device folded up on its mount looked much like the horns his elders told him humans wore back when he was still a runt and still living out on the surface.

In the end, the stories turned out to be just that, stories. Their abilities to snatch life like the passing of the wind was due to their weapons and their uncanny ability to find them was due to another device his master held preciously in his person. Word slowly spread, but the more they learned about the old masters of the surface, the less they seemed to be like the gods they were told to be. They can die just like any of them. He saw two of the attackers at the gate fall under the fire of their charge, with the man in front of him claiming three on his own.

“Eyes front.” His master muttered. “Don’t look at me. Look forward,” He sighed. Gravel crunched as he walked along the two standing at attention. “This is what you two are going to do. First, break open your shotguns. Then fish out a couple of shotgun shells and insert them in the chambers of your firearms. Third, close the action and make sure that you keep your fingers off the trigger.”

“Raise your weapons on your shoulders, and aim at the boulder right there. Can’t hold it? Then raise it up above the target and slowly lower it to position. Make sure to line up the barrel and pull the trigger as soon as you center your aim. Do it. Fire.”

Gabs’s gun fired, and he felt its weight buckle his shoulder, forcing him to take a step back, his thin form unable to absorb the recoil. Still, he ignored the pain and instead looked at his target, smiling as he saw multiple pock marks embedded on the piece of concrete. and looked toward his master to see his blank expression.

“Good enough. I should get you enough practice time, but we can’t at the moment. We need to be somewhere else.” He said.

“Don't be afraid. Just keep looking at me.” Marcus said as he locked eyes with Gabs, who looked at him with terrified eyes. The goblin was one of his two goblin subordinates provided to him by the chief. With another grunt, he pulled the goblin into the locked room after they made their way through the Malif nest.

Unlike the last time he went past the spot, there had been a short scuffle where one of the two goblins, he didn’t know who exactly, freaked out after seeing the eyes peering from the darkness and shot blindly despite his orders to hold fire. The gunshot spooked the pack, causing them to attack only for them to regret quickly after, as Marcus was quick on the draw and retaliated with his own accurate fire. He downed a couple before the rest realized their mistake and fell back on their holes.

After the firefight, Marcus let the two drag the corpses into a safe area and skin the beasts. Still, fire discipline would have to be another factor to be trained on, one more to be added on the growing list. Once more, Marcus wondered if he made a mistake, whether this venture was worth it or not.

With another grunt, Marcus leaned back for the final pull as Gabs’s head peeked over the hole in the floor for him and Fleex to stumble and fall on their asses. Marcus looked at Gabs as he heard a terrified yell and looked just as the goblin was failing to find purchase on the steel floor, causing him to slip back into the hole. With the height of the fall, he would be lucky just to be severely injured and Marcus scrambled to get up to help, but Fleex was faster and was already helping his fellow.

Marcus followed and grabbed Gabs by his scruff and pulled. Gabs yelled in pain as Marcus pulled him out of the hole and dropped him on the floor. With panting breaths, Marcus looked at the two as they checked each other for injuries and stood at attention, awaiting orders.

Marcus huffed, getting up. Impressed, he patted both in the shoulder as he walked across the room and opened the code locked door. “You two guard this area. You have food and water with you. I’ll be back later. Also, spend this time practicing about knowing your triggers and maybe I’ll have something good for the two of you. Don’t use the ammo.” He said, and the two nodded, looking excited.

Marcus nodded back, turning towards the maintenance hatch and crawled into it. He was already regretting his promise to them, as it would only be another thing to keep track of. God knows he already had a lot on his mind and decided that food would have to do, maybe some sweet treats.

“Fuck me.” Marcus muttered as he crawled further, dragging the pelts they took from the Malifs tied with a rope to his waist. It should fetch him something at least to ease the expense and effort of killing them in the first place.

On the ship, there is a secluded and relatively safe area behind the flea market for players to trade with each other. It was the equivalent of a Walmart parking lot when buying or selling to some stranger off Craigslist.

“It’s a Romy G.” Marcus muttered, racking the bolt back. He gripped the AK’s forward leaning wooden vertical grip, colloquially referred to as a ‘dong’ and pulled it snug on his shoulder, testing it. He then pulled the trigger and judged it to be working just fine.

“A what?” Flux replied. “I told you it’s a genuine AK, not even used, just looted. It’s fully automatic and you can easily change it further to your specifications with the availability of parts for it.”

“You should tell that to someone else.” Marcus replied. “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to do selling a semiautomatic as a full one, but if you’re only just starting out, then I suggest you stop it right now. Remember that reputation is always worth more than a few credits. For me, I know what I’m buying and am willing to let this slide. God forbid you sell this to the wrong person falling for your bait and switch.”

The player sighed, but didn’t answer. Marcus could only shake his head at him as he didn’t even have the poker face nor the double down attitude of a proficient scammer.

“How many do you have?” Marcus followed.

“A dozen, if you include that. Still packed in plastic and still in their crates.”

“I’ll take them. How much did you get them for?” Marcus said, already piecing together a likely story.

“1,800c each. I thought I had them for a steal but I never knew that they just turn out to be all semiautomatic.”

“I’ll take them off you for 1,500c.”

“But that’s lower than I paid for it!” He whined. “Al least let me break even!”

“There’s no one buying them, by the looks of it.” Marcus replied, “If they were flying off your hands, then you wouldn’t have to try to lie to people to sell it. Just sell them to me. You might not know it, but I’m practically doing you a favor here. As for the price? You knew what you’re trying to do, so just cut your losses dude.”

He cursed. “Alright. I’ll have it brought down. A question though, how did you know?”

Marcus sighed. “The G that is painted on the left side of the rear sight block means Garda, which is a designation for a certain nation’s patriotic guard. They are only built in semiautomatic, and the missing third pin on the receiver where the auto sear hinge around is also a dead giveaway.”

“What? I thought you just used a skill like everyone else. Are you like an AK expert or something?”

“Or something.” Marcus muttered, “But that’s not important. Let’s just go to your storage and we’ll make the transfer there. Go lead the way.”

“Alright. Follow me then.” He replied dejectedly.

Marcus grinned. If he could, he would have pumped his fist in the air for his luck. Who would have thought that his experience browsing through Gunbroker and Craigslist turns out to be useful for him now. One moment, he was just scrolling through the black market listings and reading up on offers, and in another, already buying up crates of ‘good enough’ guns for Tiul’s defenses.

Still, it wouldn’t be enough. The 50,000c credit was too little now that Marcus had an idea of how much it takes to bring up and arm a whole group. He should also take a loss too, given that the station falling would be a disaster. The station was his golden goose, and he needed to keep it from being taken away from him.

“I don’t know if I should ask but, you have anything else to sell? Guns usually come with ammo, you know.”

“We did have crates of it packed in tins, taken from another source, and that was sold much quicker.”

“Everyone needs ammo.” Marcus agreed. “You need that shit more than a gun sometimes.”

Marcus followed Flux as they weaved through the player run Flea Market. Nearby were cheap storage locations for players to keep their stuff if they didn’t have a place of their own. It was like a storage lot, with 20 foot container stacked up to the ceiling. On the bottom, the owner would queue up on the crane and lower it into the ground floor for a fee, where it would stay there for a quarter of an hour before being hoisted back up in the stack.

With the container on the floor, Flux opened the lock and Marcus stood back as he entered and dragged out an opened crate. Marcus opened it and there lay the rest of the semiautomatic AKs neatly placed in their spacers.

The rest of the deal went smoothly, with Marcus sending Flux his 18,000c and him pulling the crate away in a hand truck. He made his way towards Stoner’s armory. There, he should meet with Ylenka, who had just logged in and was practicing in the range.