Nic adopted a devious strategy, one that almost made him feel guilty at first—almost. There was also a word for this strategy in his favorite sim Trigger Point: spawnkilling.

Nic circled the outer edge of the Arena, Rocket Launcher at the ready, prowling the battleground like a buzzard waiting for easy prey. I’m not proud of it, he thought. But there’s no rule against it. And I cannot risk losing. When a player was killed, they were reincarnated into the next proxybot in one of innumerable holding cells spaced out equally around the Arena’s perimeter. He was poised to watch the exact moment a newly-spawned player emerged from one of the holding cells—and when they did, he would blast them on sight.

Some proxybots popped out of the wall farther across the Arena—much too far for an accurate shot with his current weapons. Then, like clockwork, a proxybot ambled out of a holding cell nearby to him, its limbs staggering slightly from the force of the spawn’s shove. Its clumsy little gait reminded Nic of a newborn deer he’d seen once in an educational sim of extinct Earth fauna.

PLAYER 149 [##########]100%

Not Jarek, he confirmed. He exhaled to steel his resolve and then pulled the trigger.

The rocket roared out of the tube and made short work of Player 149. They had just enough time to aim their Submachine Gun before the explosion claimed their next life.

PLAYER 149 [DEAD] KILL! | +100pts PLAYER 443: 550pts [31ST]

“Good,” he sighed. “But not good enough.” He reloaded his Rocket Launcher, the two fresh rockets thudding heavily into the weapon's twin tubes. He rotated the chamber and it locked into place with a satisfying, weighty click.

Some part of him had the instinct to turn and tell Jarek the good news. But his only ally so far in the game—maybe friend, under other circumstances—had been slain in a cave by an invisible player. He had other friends roaming the Arena somewhere, sure, but out of hundreds of players, it was unlikely he’d ever come across them.

For all he knew, he could have just killed one of them a moment ago.

Jarek never had the chance to defend himself, either, Nic thought.

The game was getting to him. He’d never admit it, though.

Nic groaned to himself. “Okay, fine. No more spawnkilling. There’s no honor in that. Give the other players a chance to defend themselves... and then kill them.”

He decided to stray from the outer rim of the Arena and delve deeper into the gunfights happening toward the middle. Just as he altered course, another holding cell hissed open and dispensed a fresh enemy target. He readied his Rocket Launcher but waited for them to see him first. “Hey!” he called out to them. “Sorry about your luck!”

PLAYER 301 [##########]100%

Just as his finger flicked up to the trigger, ready to pull, a meaty cracking sound snapped right next to his ear.

PLAYER 301 [DEAD]

There was a smoking hole in the center of the proxybot’s forehead. It crumpled like a discarded puppet on the exposed rocky surface of Colony 228.

Before he could even deduce what happened, another shot ricocheted off the astrosteel wall of the Arena next to him. Orange sparks sprinkled off the metal from the friction.

Nic traced a disconcerting vapor trail across the battlefield but was unable to see the source of the kill. “Gotta be a sniper,” he deduced. A second later, a third shot cracked through his audio feed.

A sharp pain pounded his left shoulder.

“Ow!” he growled.

PLAYER 443 [#######___]70%

A vapor trail clung to his proxybot’s shoulder. He swung the Rocket Launcher around, scanning for a target to fire on, but found none. The trail led a good distance across the map, but it wasn’t thick enough to follow to its origin point. Nic’s best guess was one of the astrosteel towers positioned in the next quadrant of the Arena.

He tried to remember how many rounds a Sniper Rifle magazine carried when another round pinged off his elbow.

PLAYER 443 [#####-____]59%

“Gah!” he hissed. The glancing blow didn’t do quite as much damage, but it still punished him with mild pain through his SimSuit. Somebody’s persistent. “RTIFIS! Display Sniper Rifle specs!”

>>SNIPER RIFLE

A semi-automatic rifle with a triple-setting scope that shoots armor-piercing rounds. Ideal for reconnaissance and long-range combat situations.

Close-range: Effective use impossible due to weapon length. Mid-range: Potentially lethal to enemy target given proficient unassisted aim. Long-range: *Lethal to enemy target.

Ammo: 5-Round Detachable Box Magazine (2)

He moved as he read, tucking and rolling and then darting to make himself an inconvenient target. He dove behind a short rock and lay flat on the ground. If only my feet are visible, I doubt those will be killing blows, he thought. He had secretly hoped his would-be killer would waste a shot as he ran, but they must have been too clever to fall for that kind of bait. No weapon required a more level head than a precision weapon; it permitted no spray-and-pray or press-button-collect-kill strategies like its counterparts.

Nic had respect for it. In just any hands, it was practically useless. In the right hands, though, it was deadly on a surgical level.

A minute-long, tense standoff ensued. Nic realized his current hiding spot was untenable. He was safe from the sniper, or so it appeared, but prone on the ground, he’d be defenseless against any moving player that might cross his path from a closer vantage point. He needed to move.

Suddenly, he went to jump out from behind cover. The next shot crunched into the ground at his feet.

“Five rounds,” Nic breathed. “That’s five. They’re reloading!” He touched the Upgrade Pak on his chest, remembering how to utilize it. “Upgrade Activate!”

>>ACTIVE UPGRADE PAK: OVERCLOCK<< MOVEMENT SPEED: 200% (60 seconds... 59 seconds... 58...)

A vibrant yellow light washed over his HUD and gave a lemony tint to his whole field of view. In a flash, he tucked his Rocket Launcher behind his back, where it clipped magnetically to a weapon slot. Then Nic ran like the icy wind that whipped across the surface of Ayrus every night. With his newly enhanced speed, he was bounding across the Arena so fast it felt like he was gliding. He wondered why proxybots couldn’t have their speed maxed out like this all the time. Must be part of the game, he concluded.

It didn’t take long for him to put decent distance and substantial cover between him and the sniper—or so he assumed. He cut around a boulder and then his heart leaped up into his throat.

There were three proxybots standing there. Waiting for him.

“Player 443,” said the center bot, taking a step forward. “Surrender all your weapons, ammo, and grenades, and we’ll give you a 10-second head start.”