Marcus took another sip of his beer, keeping silent as he stared at the other party sitting on the other side of the table. Melnik, the TAS’s leader, sat at the other end of the small table flanked by the two of his bodyguards, Zavodskoy and Pakhan. Razer sat to his left, his knees held close together, back straight in a ‘proper’ posture.

“So, I hear what happened.” Melnik said, finally breaking the silence. His accent was heavy enough to bludgeon someone to death which clued Marcus that English was likely not his first language. “Is impressive first meeting.”

Not knowing what the man was playing at exactly, Marcus only flashed his eyebrows and took another swig. “What can I say?” Marcus replied, smacking his lips at the brew. It tasted a lot like the real thing, cold piss water, and it didn’t make people drunk, but drinking it was only a natural thing in the Smoking Barrels bar. “It would have been better if Razer made it out, but like everybody says, no plan survives contact with the enemy. They’re just as thinking hard on how to beat you as you are to them.”

“True.” Melnik nodded. “I hear you have proof of kill. I think would be a good gift to start friendship.” He said.

‘Oh, here we go.’ Marcus almost groaned. Two parties already lusting over the gun, with Ylenka being a likely third. Marcus caught the way she looked at the weapon and with how she wanted to fight Demented, would use the weapon as a bait to reel in her wanted quarry. Marcus still hasn’t decided what to do with it yet. Who would have thought a single gun could get so much attention, something he first thought to be a neat secondary on a backup load-out.

“Believe me,” Marcus started, he needed to sound as convincing as he could to make sure that he kept the weapon with himself. “I agree that it’s a good gift, but I think it’s too much to start up our kind of relationship. I too have something planned for it. However, I have something else with me.” He said, slowly leaning forward atop the table. “How about I give you footage of what happened instead? Four terabytes of third person footage of the fight.” Marcus leaned back, pointing over at the black hornet hovering over his shoulder. “It has everything, infiltration, close quarters combat, even hand to hand ending on a fiery explosion.”

Melnik looked over at Razer, who shrugged. Marcus grinned, “Although I haven’t checked, I also have some cool footage of the breakout, with Razer doing some hero shit which would get your propaganda department a boner. At least, it would get you some recruitment points given that it’s some really cool shit.”

“We know.” Melnik replied. “Is why we’re here. We want you to join us.”

“Aren't we already doing that?”

“No.” Melnik shook his head, “I mean you… you…” He turned to Razer and said something in a long string of a foreign language, which in Marcus’ ears, sounded Russian, if not, then came from Central or Eastern Europe at least.

“He wants you to join the clan.” Razer translated. “They’ve already reviewed my footage and decided to get you in, even without reviewing yours. In exchange,-”

“Let me just stop you there.” Marcus said, holding up a hand. “I didn’t decide to extend you the help as some sort of audition, but I reached out to you as something to break the ice in a mutually beneficial relationship. I won’t hide it, but the SRT had extended the same offer and I’m sorry, but I’ll have to give you the same answer I gave them. No.” Marcus sighed. “Right now, we have only to gain by suppressing the SRT and making moves to take them out. So, how about we just keep to that? as for how this arrangement of ours would turn out in the future, we’ll see.”

“I see.” Melnik replied, nodding. “We keep same arrangement then. We fight SRT in front, you fight them in the side, or back. We call you, tell you good target and fight together.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Marcus nodded, standing up. Melnik offered his hand, and both parties shook. “As my gift, I’ll send you my recordings for you to do with whatever you like.”

“Good. Talk is over,” Melnik said, standing. He made for the exit, with Razer trailing behind. He looked back at him and gave a curt nod, which he returned.

Wondering on how easily Melnik gave up on recruiting him, Marcus noticed that one of the bodyguards had stayed behind. Raising an eyebrow at the man, he said nothing as he pulled out a card and laid it on the table. Looking at it, Marcus recognized it to be the same one used in the public storage on the ship. He then looked at the code and saw it belonged to the more secured part of the storage area catering to the more paranoid.

Marcus nodded his thanks, and the bodyguard turned to leave. Marcus watched him. He wasn’t really expecting much from the meeting other than getting a feel for their leadership. As far as he knew, they looked to be solid enough. The container van was a good enough surprise and Marcus looked at the tag and wondered what’s inside, hoping that it would be something that he could use in the end.

With one more meeting lined up, Marcus took his seat and took a sip of the nonalcoholic drink. It was like drinking decaffeinated coffee, but then again, what’s the point of drinking it if he didn’t even like the taste that much?

“I think it’s a good enough change of pace to have you call me in instead of the other way around.” Columbus said as he took the seat.

“I’d say that it’s easy to assume you’ve heard enough of what happened in the station the past few days.” Marcus started, “Ever since the last job I did for you, there had been some developments on my end which also allowed me to have access to a way to power level yourself for credits. Are you interested? It’s for a good cause.”

“Would I be wrong to assume that’s connected to the guns you’re running to the station?”

“I’d say you hit close to the mark.”

“How much do you need? And what’s the conversion rate?”

Marcus shrugged. “Depends on how the chief was feeling when he’s giving out the points. As far as I can see, the system is the one divvying it up depending on the contributed weapons and how much it would affect the station. Of course, those guns could be bought as well as looted from dead bodies. With that, I’d say that it’s around 10,000 to 15,000c per contribution point which you could exchange to 10,000 exp each.”

Columbus chuckled. “It’s a good enough offer, but I don’t think I need the exp right now.” He said.

“Of course.” Marcus replied, “But that’s not the only reason I called you here.”

“You want me to spread the word?” Columbus asked.

“If you could do me that favor,” Marcus nodded, “I think it’s better for me to keep this in my circles, you know. I can’t just open up the same offer to some random chuckle fuck in the walking in the middle of the street. I need someone that’s reliable and wouldn’t just be in it for the profits while letting everyone else work hard for it. You know what I’m saying?”

“That’s fine.” Columbus replied, “I’ll spread the word to whoever I can. No promises, but if there are any takers, then expect them to come to you in a few days’ time.”

“Thanks man.” Marcus said, “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Columbus said, leaving.

The streets up on the higher floors were just as filled with players as any part of the day. Marcus went to the Malina’s stall to find it crowded. Players lined up, with the queue reaching around the corner. Everyone seems to be looking for the hours-long buff. Not only that, it’s affordable for the normal player, and the buff would last them most of their play session, which left nothing to think about. It’s a no brainer.

Through the gaps between the players, Marcus saw the old auntie busy catering to the orders. With the same practiced motion of years of experience, she moved efficiently as to finish the orders to the quickest.

Marcus walked past, seeing that there wouldn’t be any chance of him exchanging the small parcel of tea he got from the station. With nothing else to do, Marcus went ahead and walked over to the landing port, following the screams of engines as landers touched down on armored plating, while others took off towards the sky at breakneck speeds.

Marcus stood at the view deck built into the side of the ship and watched as the lander grew smaller from a house sized craft to a simple dot reflecting in the distance and disappearing against the blue sky. With the breeze blowing through the city, the faint sound of automatic fire whispered at the edge of his hearing. The deck provided an uncontested view of the city. The dead, abandoned city in which players from all over different asteroids, planets and habitation satellites made it their playground. Only a small portion of those people played in the region, of course, but Marcus felt a sense of disconnect about the scale of what’s in front of him.

It was rare for him to have some time of his own. Lighting up a cigarette, he decided to spend it staring blankly at the ruined city ahead.

“200,000 people used to live in this city. Now it’s only populated by ghosts and long forgotten memories.” A voice called behind him.

Marcus turned to look at the source to find a man sitting at another small table. He looked to be late 40s early 50s. He wore short, salt and pepper hair with crow’s feet creeping on the corner of his eyes. Sharp eyes looked back at him as he sipped at his cold drink, condensation trailing from the side of the glass and dropped on the top of his crisp, well ironed pants. Even in a game, and in the future, Marcus could easily recognize that it was some dress uniform which he wore, a cop, soldier, or a ship crew. He was no doubt an NPC, programmed to give exposition to any player willing to listen.

With some time in his hands, Marcus decided to give it a run. “Given what I see right now, I hope they managed to get away.” He replied.

“Most left when the war started, and only a fraction decided to stay. Either they believed in their duty of staying and supported the fight in their own way, or they just couldn’t leave since they had nowhere to go.”

“I’m guessing that long before this ship landed?”

“Before, during, after. The same could be said, the only difference is who stayed and who left.”

“Then which do you belong to? The one who stayed because of duty, or the one who stayed because he has to?”

The man shrugged, sipping at his drink. “Both. Do you know that this ship was first christened as a colony ship?”

“I heard about it. First was a colony ship bringing the first wave of colonists, then it was converted into a mining ship after it unloaded all its cargo, a warship, then now just a hulk laying in the middle of an empty city.”

“That is quite a way to abridge its history, but you were right.” He said in a melancholic voice. Reaching over to a handrail to his side, he repeated, “You were right.”

“Maybe I was too harsh to call it a hulk.” Marcus corrected himself, seeing the NPC’s reaction. “Since that’s more representative of something long dead. Right now, the ship is still alive, so I guess you can say that it’s like a seed. Right now, it might not look much, but given time, and resources, it will grow to something much grander and much more important that what it started as.” He shrugged, “All it needs right now is to keep the ants running around it to stop making a mess of the place.”

“That’s interesting, considering that you’re one of the ants.”

Marcus shrugged. “What can I say? This ant might know what he's doing, but it won’t stop it from doing it. It’s just in their nature, it’s what this ant needed to do.”

“Interesting.” The NPC repeated, his eyes blank, already in a place far away.

“We’ll, if you don’t mind, I gotta go.” Marcus said, getting up. Break’s over. He still needed to check the flea market to see what he could get on the cheap, along with getting in touch with Malinka to see what’s the take. It was, of course, the reason he’s fighting his own small war in the first place.

The man didn’t reply, to which Marcus only shrugged. There was a large chance to find him again sitting on the viewing deck for some reason he needed to talk to him, but Marcus thought the chance of that to be unlikely.

Back inside the ship, Marcus chanced upon a lull in Malinka’s business. Despite the tiring work, she still managed to greet him with a smile along with his preferred skewer already grilling on the fire. There were other players sitting in the stall, causing Marcus to signal to save the business talk for later. Right now, as far as everyone knows, he’s just another customer.

“Hey lady, I might need to top up later. When’s the closing time?” Marcus said after he finished his meal.

“We close by nine. Make sure you get back here by then.” She replied.

With that, Marcus nodded. He paid and left, going to the market on the level below. Inside the cargo elevator, Marcus looked through the safety grates and saw a familiar figure standing within a group by the vehicle bay. They were gathered around a pair of armored vehicles Marcus recognized as the Russian equivalent of an armored humvee, a tiger, Tigr, or something.

The two Tigrs sported a light blue digital camo pattern and was fitted with a remote weapons system on top. Their clan’s logo, a silhouette of a man squatting with a bottle in front of him, was printed on a small flag on the end of the vehicle’s radio antenna, along with being painted on the side.

As if sensing the eyes on him, Melnik looked up, and both men locked gazes. Recognizing Marcus, Melnik then waved for him. As Marcus approached, Melnik then turned to Razer, talking to him about something in a language Marcus could only assume was Russian.

“He’s asking if you want a ride. We could even let you shoot the guns on it.” Razer said, as Marcus got within earshot.

“I’m not that easy to get, dude.” Marcus chuckled. “Anyway, that’s some nice set of wheels.”

“Yeah. We just got it.” Razer replied.

“How would someone get a car, anyway?”

“You get it through the Interchange Alliance. For us, we had to put in an order along with a three day waiting time. These two just came in with the latest convoy.”

Marcus looked at the car and wondered how it would be like riding on one, let alone having to own one. “Man, I don’t think I could even afford to look at it.” Marcus muttered. “How much does this one cost?”

Razer shrugged. “I think just the car costs around 1.2 million credits. The remote weapons system cost another million.”

“Fuck me.” Marcus muttered. That’s two months’ worth of his living expenses just for an imaginary car. “And you have two?”

“We wanted to have more since we plan to have all our members riding inside one, but there’s a hard cap for how much a clan could have depending on their level. Right now, all we can get is two.”

“Too bad. I bet you all would have rolled them up easily if you guys could get more heavy equipment in play. At the least, this will change a lot of things. They wouldn’t be able to just roll around as if they own the place.”

Razer nodded, then turned to his clan as they waved for him. “I have to go. See you later.” He said, running off.

Marcus watched as the group loaded up in their armored trucks and rolled out of the ship. Curious as to what Melnik gave to him, Marcus went towards the storage area and used the identification to call up the container. Excitement rose as the container van was taken off the stack by the overhead cranes and lowered to his level. Using the card, he opened the container.

His breath caught in his throat.

Inside the container van were stacks of Russian ammunition in crates. Racks of guns filled with factory new AKMs and RPG-7s with more crates of rockets. On top of the crates is a note, written:

“Despite you trying, you did not hide your intentions well enough. You need weapons. This is my thanks for playing with my grandson. He had a great time and couldn’t stop talking about it. He does not show it well, but he is happy. For that, so am I.”

Marcus lowered the note and looked back at the contents of the crate. “Thanks Uncle Joe.” He muttered.

AKM

A select fire, gas piston system operated rifle chambered in 7.62x39mm. Developed after the second world war in an effort of the Soviet Union’s effort to equip its massive army with medium ranged combat rifles. An estimated two hundred millions were built including other variants of the same base rifle. It had been present in virtually every conflict and was considered to be the Soviet Union’s greatest export during its height and its fall.

Caliber: 7.62x39mm

Familiarity: 0

Requirement: 3 Str

Weight: 3.3 Kg

Firing Mode: Semi/Automatic

Rate of Fire: 600 RPM

Mods: None

RPG-7v2

Is a portable shoulder fired, reusable, anti-tank, rocket propelled grenade launcher. Rugged, simple, and low cost, it is the most common RPG launcher in circulation. It utilized a number of warheads ranging from fragmentation and single stage HEAT, to thermobaric.

Familiarity: 0

Requirement: 6 Str, lvl 5 Explosives skill

Weight: 6.3 Kg

Mods: PGO-7 Telescopic sight

PG-7VL Single Stage HEAT

Improved 93 mm High-explosive-Anti-Tank warhead for the RPG-7. Effective against most vehicles and fortified targets. An incremental upgrade over the original PG-7V, it features improved shaped charge design resulting in improved penetration capabilities.

As a safety feature, the warhead will self detonate at approximately 950m.

Effective Range: 500m

Penetration: 330mm RHA

Weight: 2.2 kg

Arming Range: 5m

As Marcus finished reading all the descriptions, he chuckled, wondering how much damage he could inflict with this much hardware.