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Chapter 14


“Holy crap, we’re screwed.”

“Wow, Dan, your eloquence with the English language is absolutely stunning.”

“Shut up, Mack. At least I’m not dating a Japanese scam bot.”

“For the last time, Riko is not a bot! You guys have talked to her—”

“Less than five percent of people can accurately guess between an AI and a human voice these days,” Ronnie quipped. “If she’s so real, why won’t she do a face chat?”

“Because she’s had people illegally record her before. I’m not going to ask her to do something she’s not comfortable with just because my douchebag friends think she’s a bot!”

“Cut it out, guys. We need to focus,” Lynn interjected before poor Mack had an aneurysm. Or she did.

Holy crap was accurate. As Larry Coughlin she would have put it more colorfully, but Lynn was too distracted trying to estimate TDM numbers based on the masses of dots on her overhead to come up with a Larry-worthy curse.

“Does anyone remember how many TDMs we fought out here before, when Connor was captain?” Lynn subvocalized on the team channel. School had just let out and they were peering through the windows of the north-facing doors that led to the athletic fields. Normally they wouldn’t have stood around at school in full hunting gear, to avoid being stared at. But the cold February wind gave them reason to delay inside as long as possible. Plus, they were done caring what the rest of the school thought of them. They didn’t bother staying out of sight while in their TD Hunting uniforms anymore, though things had been especially tense in the weeks after Connor’s reputation assassination attempt. There had been a few run-ins with the ARS team, now led by Paul, when things had gotten dicey. But the knowledge that there were eyes everywhere, both physical and digital, kept Paul and his bully boys from starting anything violent.

Wisely, Connor avoided them entirely and seemed to have instructed the rest of his team to do the same. Elena never passed up a chance to sneer down her nose if they saw each other in the halls, but she kept her harpy mouth shut—at least in front of them. Behind their back, of course, was a different story entirely. But whether the pop-girl’s popularity was waning, or their fellow students were simply tired of the same old vitriol, Lynn’s professionalism and total focus on TD Hunter seemed to diffuse the usual school gossip.

Lynn stood by the promise she’d made on the Skadi’s Wolves stream, and her team had, thankfully, followed her example. Her confidence at school was heavy on the “fake it till you make it” side of things, but she’d gotten good enough at it over the weeks that perhaps it was becoming more habit than show.

“Dunno how many bogies there were before, but not this many,” Edgar muttered around the piece of gum he was grinding away at.

“I’d say their numbers are up by at least thirty percent,” Ronnie offered.

“Based on?” Lynn asked.

“I’ve been tracking TDM respawn counts since the game came out,” he said absently and paused, as if doing some quick mental calculations. “Typical respawn rate during the first few months had about a five to seven percent increase. It was more like twenty percent over the fall. Now it’s over thirty.”

“That’s insane,” Dan said. “They can’t keep increasing the respawn rate on that trajectory. It just wouldn’t make sense for game play.”

“Remember that recent cut-scene vid when we hit Level 35?” Mack asked. “First Sergeant Bryce said they’d been tracking an increase in the alien incursion rate, and that things would only get worse from here. Obviously, the storyline is setting up some kind of inciting incident, maybe to coincide with the first wave of players reaching max level?”

Lynn’s lips pursed and her eyes flicked to the windows, though none of the TDMs on her overhead map were close enough to be seen from where she was standing.

Skadi’s Wolves cleared the area around the school on a fairly regular basis, mostly times the weather was bad or their mountain of homework meant they had only a little time to hunt after school before heading home. But this was the first time they’d hunted at the school since hitting Level 35, so maybe Mack was on to something.

Or . . . Lynn had noticed a grid engineer crew at the school the past few days, working in the background. Were they simply upgrading equipment? Or were there more grid problems? And why now?

“That game play doesn’t make sense,” Dan said, interrupting Lynn’s musings. “TD Hunter is not a normal MMORPG in virtual where they can sequester different levels of players to experience a certain storyline or aspect of the game. This is augmented reality. Everybody is experiencing the same thing, right? So brand new players who start tomorrow are dealing with massive increases in TDMs that we didn’t see when we started. It’s all lopsided and just doesn’t make sense! Whoever designed this game did a crap job of it.”

“Not necessarily,” Mack said. “It depends on where they’re taking the storyline. There’s never been an AR game on this scale before, so you can’t really compare it to what we’ve been playing for years in virtual.”

Lynn grinned to herself, amused by Dan and Mack’s descent into gaming geekery. Then her smile faded, and she glanced at the mass of red dots again.

Dan was right about one thing: the game didn’t make sense. Lynn could rationalize it all she wanted, but her gut told her something about TD Hunter was off. She just didn’t know what yet. Or what she would do about it once she figured it out.

For the time being, though, they had monsters to kill.

“The respawn rate increase is good news for us,” Lynn said, interrupting Dan and Mack’s bickering about game mechanics. “It means we can hit our leveling goals faster. So, let’s get out there and start clearing around the school, since the TDMs have been so obliging and parked themselves in convenient swarms instead of spread out over miles of woods.”

“I like the woods,” Edgar commented, to which everyone turned and glared at him. “What? They’re relaxing, you know?”

“You’re insane,” Dan grumbled.

“Aren’t we all kind of insane, though?” Lynn asked, looking around at her team as a feral grin spread across her face. “We fight imaginary monsters in subzero wind chill, for hours, and we like it.”

“Fair point,” Mack agreed, grinning too. Ronnie shrugged, looking like he would have been grinning if he weren’t trying to hide it behind a veneer of dignity, while Edgar bobbed his head up and down, an expression of childlike glee on his face.

Lynn’s smile spread wider. She was proud of her team. Damn proud.

She hitched her compact backpack higher and tightened the strap across her chest.

“Come on. Let’s go be insane.”

* * *

That night after a long, hot shower, Lynn bundled up in her warmest pajamas and a blanket from the couch, then made a mug of hot chocolate before plopping down into her body-mold chair. She could access all the TD Hunter forums and chats directly from her AR glasses connected to her LINC, but she was weirdly old school enough to prefer doing it on her wall screen. The degree of separation felt more comfortable, somehow.

She still used Hugo, of course. He just made things easier.

“Okay, Hugo, where we at?”

“The total applicants for your ‘Operation Boss Bash’ has reached four hundred—”

“W-whaaat?!” Lynn choked and nearly spewed hot chocolate all over herself. “They what? That’s total people, right?”

“No, total teams. Which would make the total number of individual players—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I can do basic math, Hugo. There’s got to be a mistake, though. They do realize they’d have to come here, right? To Cedar Rapids?”

“One would presume team captains would read the applicable details before volunteering, yes, though that does not guarantee that they actually have.”

“Still . . . that’s insane . . . ” Lynn had spent weeks discussing the details of this operation with her team. It had taken that long for them to brainstorm on their tactics and agree on the criteria they’d put out for teams to join them going after the boss north of the school. She had also wanted to wait for better weather, so they wouldn’t have to cancel at the last minute and screw up everybody’s travel plans.

Because, yeah, these teams would be coming here. She would see them face to face. Dozens of strangers. Ten to fifteen teams. And she’d be leading them.

She shivered and took a long sip of her hot chocolate.

“Okay, so, assuming you’re not pulling my leg—”

“Your insinuation that I would do anything of the sort is an insult to my designers—”

“—then we have a lot of winnowing to do.”

“Say no more, Miss Lynn. I have already sorted them by rank, and I took the liberty of combing the forums for any posts or interactions by their members to screen for unsavory behavior or general lack of professionalism.”

“Oh . . . thanks. That’s really helpful.”

“Simply doing my job, Miss Lynn. Now, taking all this into account, I have compiled a list of the top fifty ranked teams that meet your requirements. I did not filter them based on distance to their hometown, but I will mention that some of them would be traveling internationally to reach you.”

“What? No way. Seriously, no way! Who in their right mind would come from a different country just to fight in a boss battle with us? They’re insane!”

“I feel it is incumbent on me to point out that you are all ‘kind of insane’ according to your own words.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Of course, Miss Lynn.”

She sighed and rubbed her temples with one hand.

“Okay. Throw the list up on my screen and put on my Nightwish soundtrack, the one that starts with ‘The Islander.’”

“Done.”

The soothing flutes and drums of that haunting song filled her ears as she put down her hot chocolate and selected the first team on Hugo’s list.

An hour later, she’d narrowed the list down to thirty. When she’d originally put out the call for volunteers, she’d thought she’d be lucky to recruit ten teams. That was her minimum to execute the operation she had in mind. But, since the world had officially turned insane and she was, apparently, some kind of gaming celebrity, she now had so much more to work with than she’d ever envisioned.

It made her Larry brain grin evilly and start plotting.

Of the fifty teams Hugo had given her, she’d found reason enough to reject the few international teams—one from Germany, one from Mexico, and two from Canada. She felt bad doing it, but she just couldn’t in good conscience let them spend all that money and effort for something that might not even work. Plus, their willingness to travel so far made her suspicious. Maybe they just wanted to scope out their competition? Either way, she decided to stick with domestic teams for now.

Of those left, she threw out a few more that, while high in individual ranking, had been formed very recently and didn’t have good team stats. Of the rest, she went with her gut, making a note of those that seemed the most professional and serious as opposed to the teams just in it for the glory. Out of the thirty, if even half made it to Cedar Rapids without backing out last minute, it would be enough.

“Hugo, could you reach out to these thirty with a standard reply that they were shortlisted to participate in Operation Boss Bash, and we’re trying to coordinate a date that works best for everybody? I’d prefer to do this during our spring break in a couple weeks, so give them that date range and we’ll see how many can make it.”

“Doing it now, Miss Lynn. Would you like to review the message before I send it?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

* * *

Four hundred?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Lynn shook her head, grinning at the incredulous looks on the guys’ faces. They were gathered around their usual lunch table in the cafeteria, but their food lay forgotten in the face of Lynn’s pronouncement.

“I’m not surprised at all,” said Kayla brightly. She joined them on most days, and today she sat between Dan and Mack with a “soup of the day” bowl steaming in front of her. “You all produce lots of great content, and with a pro PR company managing your accounts with all their knowledge of how to work the algorithm, you’re trending like crazy.”

“I bet it’s because of my channel,” Dan said, puffing out his chest and shooting a surreptitious look at Kayla. “I’ve been doing some seriously dope iceberg discussions on MMOFPS versus traditional FPS and it’s been getting lots of comments.”

Ronnie rolled his eyes.

“Nobody cares about your dumb game comparisons, Dan. I bet they all volunteered so they can come see what’s really going on with this TD Hunter game. They probably figure we know something they don’t, being a top-tier Hunter Strike Team.”

“Not your conspiracy theories again,” Dan groaned. “There’s nothing going on!”

“Yes there is!” Ronnie insisted. “Do none of you watch the news? Like, ever? There’s been massive disruptions in the grid network over the past nine months, ever since TD Hunter was launched, and the incidents are only increasing. And it’s not just in the US, it’s worldwide! I mean, everywhere but China, obviously, because their hackers are behind it.”

Everyone at the table groaned this time, even Kayla.

“Give it a break, Ronnie,” Edgar said around a fish stick.

“I’m telling you; everybody is talking about it! And with the crazy black-box budget bills being passed in Congress lately and all the force mobilization, it’s obvious what’s going on.”

“Please, Ronnie, don’t tell us,” Lynn said halfheartedly and stabbed her salad with a fork.

“We’re going to war with China,” Ronnie said, voice lowered dramatically. “And you know what I think? I think TD Hunter is just cover for covert meshweb warfare between the US and China, and that’s why there are no Chinese-sponsored Hunter Strike teams. Heck, they’ve all but banned the TD Hunter app in China, because they don’t want Western powers spying on them and accessing their infrastructure through the app.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Dan said, then took a huge mouthful of his burger and attempted to speak through it. “If-swar wichina, why alldastf inna’merca?”

“Eww, Dan, that’s gross,” Lynn said, wiping a bit of half-chewed burger bun off her arm. She noticed Kayla hiding a smile behind her hand and gave her friend an exasperated look.

“Ssrry.” Dan chewed a little more until his mouth was only halfway full and launched back into his argument. “If we’re weaponizing the TD Hunter app against China, then why are all the infrastructure issues in America and not China?”

“Retaliation, duh,” Ronnie said, giving Dan a pitying look. “It’s state-sponsored hacker warfare. And for all we know, there’s just as much damage going on in China, we’ll just never know about it because the state controls the media.”

“I think you’re all wrong,” Lynn said quietly, surprising herself by speaking.

“Oh yeah?” Ronnie challenged, a healthy dose of the old jerkitude in his tone “And what would you know about it?”

Lynn straightened and stared him down, silent, until Ronnie looked away.

“It’s called being observant,” she finally said, then shook her head. “But there’s no point debating about it because it’s all probably nonsense anyway. Regardless of why we got so much interest in our Operation Boss Bash, the point is that we have an incredible opportunity here to put us ahead. You know the group hunting bonuses are not just dependent on accuracy and kill stats. There’s a force-multiplier aspect too. The more teams we successfully use to take down the boss, the more experience we all get.”

She looked around the table as realization dawned and grins spread on the guys’ faces. Kayla looked happy, too, probably because whatever helped Skadi’s Wolves also helped her stepdad and his company.

“Dan, I asked you to keep an eye on CRC, not just on the official forums but also anywhere . . . less legal they could be operating to give them a leg up. What have they been up to? How do they expect to make it to Level 40 in time for the championship?”

“About what you’d expect,” Dan said, and shrugged. “They’re throwing money at the problem, buying up any experience modification augments and hiring local power levelers to hunt with them and up their group bonuses, not to mention grinding insane numbers of TDMs.”

“Knowing Elena, she’s probably not even hunting herself half the time,” Ronnie grumbled.

“What do you mean?” Lynn asked.

Ronnie didn’t look at her as he replied.

“When I was on her team, if she got tired, or broke a nail, or it was too hot and her makeup might run, she’d just sit in a café or something in combat mode and send the rest of us out to hunt nearby. That way she still showed up as active and gained team bonus experience, but she didn’t have to do anything.”

There was a moment of stunned silence at their table.

“Whoa,” Dan finally said. “She’s got some balls on her for sure. I can’t believe you put up with it, though. Why would you do that?”

Ronnie shot him a dirty look.

“I didn’t have much of a choice, at the time.”

“Elena is like that,” Kayla said. The supportive statement seemed to take Ronnie aback, especially coming from Kayla, who he still treated with suspicion. Kayla took it all in stride, probably recognizing that trust took time to build. “She might seem stupid sometimes, but she knows how to use your weaknesses against you.”

“Okay, but still—” Dan began, but Lynn interjected before they could start their usual arguing.

“It doesn’t matter. The point is that CRC isn’t doing itself any favors. They might qualify come time for the championship, but they won’t have enough experience working as a team to take down bosses. Thanks for keeping an eye on them Dan. Keep it up and be sure to let me know if it looks like they’re breaking TD Hunter terms of service. We wouldn’t want to turn a blind eye to cheating, would we?”

“Nope,” Dan agreed with a grin.

“So,” Lynn continued. “That’s what our rival is up to. We’ve got a better strategy and a better work ethic to back it up, but it’s going to take a lot of cooperation to pull this thing off. Here’s what we need to be working on . . . ”

* * *

In the end, twenty-six of the thirty teams agreed on a day in March for the operation. A part of Lynn was still skeptical they would show up, but she had chatted with and vetted all the team captains. Since she couldn’t discuss her day-of strategy for fear a bad actor might leak it or try to sabotage the operation, Dan helped her cook up an in virtual wargame simulation that mirrored the most important aspects of her plan. It provided practice for the teams, gave her a way to assess the captains, and forced her to face her anxiety with a bit of virtual breathing room built in.

No matter how much she told herself the operation was just like leading a merc team in WarMonger, the idea of ordering around dozens of strangers in person was terrifying. She obsessed about it so much she started having dreams. The ones where all the teams were consumed by rampaging monsters were bad enough. Worse was when everybody laughed at her commands, their faces morphing into Elena’s petty sneer or Connor’s condescending look of disgust. It was enough to wake her in a cold sweat some nights.

Despite her fears, the war game went surprisingly well. The team captains, an eclectic mix of all ages and types, were professional, hardworking, and seemed to have a good time with the exercise. Lynn kept her interactions professional—she was the op commander, after all—but there was plenty of good-natured banter and lively conversation that went on in the team channels.

Besides assessing the strength and weaknesses of each team captain, Lynn also silently picked out who her squad leaders were going to be. She would wait and see who actually showed up in person before assigning any roles, though.

Before she knew it, it was March. Between school, hunting, keeping up with her PR duties for GIC, and planning her operation, the days blurred together until she only knew the day of the week because Hugo cheerfully informed her every morning when she got onto the TD Hunter app for her morning exercises. That gave her a chance to cycle through her best Larry insults, just so she didn’t go all soft and forget being so long away from WarMonger. Hugo’s responses were, of course, thoroughly unsatisfying. It made Lynn reminisce sadly of her glory days intimidating newbies and tea-bagging Ronnie as he shouted Lithuanian curses in a terrible American accent.

It was barely a week before Operation Boss Bash when Lynn got a surprising message request on the TD Hunter app from the last person she ever expected to hear from: DeathShot13.

Sorry for the last minute contact, but are you still taking volunteers? Didn’t think we could swing coming to the States, but the stars have aligned. Would be honored to join if you’ll have us.

Attached to the message was DeathShot’s team info, which Lynn read through eagerly, then whistled to herself. He’d only formed his team a month ago, but they’d already racked up some seriously competitive stats. Based on Lynn’s original criteria, she shouldn’t have accepted such a request, especially from a new and untried team.

But she was already subvocalizing a reply before the consideration even crossed her mind.

We’d be honored to have you, assuming you Canucks can keep up with us ;). I’ll add you to the op group chat room. Take time to get to know the other teams. We’re all in this together.

The reply came back almost immediately.

Roger that. And we’ll do our best. I’ll tell my team to take it easy on the TDMs so you all have something to kill, too.

Lynn grinned. DeathShot13 sounded like her kind of person. He might even be former military from the sound of it, which was a good sign. If people like Steve and her other former-military merc buddies in WarMonger were any indication, DeathShot and his people would be skilled, professional, and trustworthy.

That bit of good news sustained her through the last hellish week of school before spring break. Her teachers seemed to think it was already senior finals by the way they piled on the assignments. Plus, Elena was being more vicious than usual. Lynn constantly worried that CRC would catch wind of the Skadi’s Wolves op and try to sabotage it, so Elena’s vaguely threatening comments dialed Lynn’s anxiety up to eleven.

By the Friday night before the op, Lynn’s nerves were beyond frazzled, though she did her best to hide it. They had a team meeting at her place for a last-minute run through of the plan, accompanied by mountains of meat-lovers pizza and as much pop as they could drink. They each ate almost a full pizza box on their own—Edgar ate nearly two, but then he was a head taller and a foot wider than anyone else on the team. The spectacle of the five of them sitting around the living room, each eating pizza out of their own box while swigging from two-liter bottles made Lynn’s mom laugh and mutter something about growing teenagers.

“You know,” Dan piped up, “our team’s combined step count averages roughly forty-five miles a day. If we don’t fuel up, we’ll turn into skin and bones!”

Matilda laughed.

“I guess that’s why Lynn eats like a starved lion every night. One time I caught her growling at the stovetop because it wasn’t cooking her steak fast enough.”

“Mom!”

“It’s true!”

“I was not growling at it. I was grumbling to myself because the burner was broken.”

“If you say so.” Her mom shrugged, still grinning.

Apart from distracting peanut gallery comments, the meeting went well and the guys left in high spirits, looking forward to the day ahead. That was good, since Lynn had done everything in her power to hide her dread and stomach-twisting anxiety. No point inflicting it on anyone else.

Edgar, though, hung back, letting the other guys leave first. He silently helped Lynn pick up the empty pizza boxes, napkins, and other trash, and shove it all into the garbage chute. By the time they were done, Lynn’s mom had made herself scarce and Lynn found herself alone in the living room, trying to avoid Edgar’s knowing gaze.

“So, um, see you tomorrow?” Lynn offered, pasting a smile on her face as she folded her arms across her chest.

“Yup.”

Edgar’s tone was easy, but he didn’t move, just stuck his hands in his pockets.

“I guess you should go. You wouldn’t want to worry your mom, right?”

Edgar shrugged. “I got time.”

Lynn’s eyes narrowed. “Time for what?”

“To remind you to stop worrying.”

The sick feeling in her stomach surged, and she swallowed.

“I’m fine.”

Edgar smiled. Not his usual goofy grin, but a fond smile that made Lynn feel disconcertingly warm and tingly.

“’Course you’re fine. You’re Toa Tama’ita’i.”

“Don’t say that,” Lynn snapped. “Don’t act like I’m somebody special and everything will be okay just because you gave me a silly nickname.”

Edgar’s smile faded, but not into hurt or indignation. His expression sobered and he hesitated, but then withdrew a hand from his pocket and stepped close enough to lay it tentatively on her shoulder, as if afraid she might shrug it off.

She didn’t. How could she when he looked at her like that?

“I didn’t give you a silly nickname, Lynn. You were already a warrior woman. Always have been, least since I’ve known you. I’m just the one who finally said it out loud.” Edgar’s deep voice seemed to vibrate through Lynn, making every nerve tingle with energy.

Even so, she looked away.

“You’re wrong,” she said, not wanting it to be true but unable to stop herself saying it. “I’ve spent most of my life hiding. Even with this whole TD Hunter thing, it’s not really me. I’m not brave, bold RavenStriker. That’s just a front, another mask.” She thought of Larry and shook her head. “I’m not a warrior, I just like to play pretend. And one day, it’s going to get someone hurt.”

Maybe tomorrow, she thought. What if someone gets hurt and it’s my fault?

Lynn shivered, despite the warmth of Edgar’s large hand on her shoulder. She expected him to laugh off her objections and say something encouraging, or maybe funny. She would appreciate his effort, but it wouldn’t change anything.

Edgar did squeeze her shoulder, but then he dropped his hand and said the last thing in the world she expected.

“Is Ronnie a warrior?”

Lynn’s gaze snapped up and her brows drew together. But Edgar’s serious expression didn’t change.

“What kind of a question is that?”

“The kind you answer,” he said, amusement tinging his words.

Lynn’s knee-jerk reaction was to scoff, but she made herself slow down and think objectively about the question. Finally, she huffed out a breath and shrugged.

“I don’t know that he’s a very good warrior, but yeah . . . I guess he is.”

“Then what makes him a warrior and not you?”

That made Lynn scowl. She could see where Edgar was going with this, and she didn’t like being outmaneuvered. She shook her head.

“Okay, so how come you don’t call him a Toa Tama’ita’i, huh?”

“Well,” Edgar drawled, “cause he’s ain’t no woman, for one thing.”

Lynn laughed, despite herself, and Edgar finally let his grin show.

“And for another,” he continued, “he’s not so busy hiding from himself that he can’t see the truth.”

“See! I told you I was hiding.”

“From yourself.”

“No, from everybody else.”

“If you aren’t hiding from yourself, then why do you hate mirrors? And watching yourself on stream?”

“Wait a minute, how did you know I hate mirrors?”

“Cuz you just told me.”

“No, I . . . ” Lynn closed her mouth and glared up at her friend, who was looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Edgar stuck his hand back in his pocket and shrugged.

“I ain’t no psychologist or nothing, but from where I’m standing, you’re busy hiding from yourself because you believe the dumbest lies from the dumbest people, and you’re scared to find out if they’re right. But you should do what I do,” he finished, and gave her another warm smile.

Lynn stubbornly let the silence stretch on, but Edgar didn’t budge, so she finally rolled her eyes and asked the question he wanted her to ask.

“And what do you do, Edgar?”

“I don’t listen to dumb people.”

Lynn took a deep breath to retort, then let it out as a laugh.

“Okay. Fine. That’s fair. But . . . you know it’s not that easy, right?”

“I know,” he said, and sadness filled his eyes. “But practice makes perfect, yeah? Least that’s what Ma keeps telling me. And,” he added, “you got plenty of smart people around you telling you the truth, people like your Ma and that old guy, Mr. Thomas? I met him at the Christmas party. He’s pretty cool. Oh, and me,” he finished with a grin.

“Oh really? So, you’re a smart person, huh?”

“Heck yeah! It’s the quiet people who got the brains, don’tcha know?”

“So, what you’re saying is, Dan and Ronnie are dumb?”

“Eh.” Edgar raised a hand and wiggled it back and forth ambivalently. “Talking less wouldn’t hurt ’em.”

They laughed together. When it died away, Edgar looked around the room, then at the floor, then at Lynn’s feet. He shifted, the movement bringing him one step closer to her. When he finally looked her in the eye, she couldn’t decipher his expression, but it made her warm again—and not in an unpleasant way.

“I do hafta go, but, uh, since I’m a smart person and all that, I got some truths for you, to get rid of all those dumb lies, you know?”

Lynn wanted to reply, but all she could do was swallow and nod mutely.

“Well, you’re beautiful, for one. And smart. And talented. And freaking scary when someone needs a smackdown. And you’re brave, even if you don’t think so, cuz you do what’s right, no matter if it’s hard.” He shuffled another step closer, so close she could feel his body heat.

“And you inspire people, Lynn. You see people . . . people no one else sees. And you don’t give up on them.” His voice had dropped so low it was barely a rumble but mesmerizing all the same. He was close enough to kiss, now, though why her scattered thoughts homed in on that particular possibility, she wasn’t going to explore. But despite the intense look in his eyes, he didn’t dip his head down toward her. He seemed frozen.

So was she, for that matter, but not in fear or anxiety. The thing that filled her chest felt more like anticipation.

When he finally found his voice again, it was rough and he had to clear it before continuing.

“I’m thinking, maybe you take some of that trust and loyalty you give other people, and give it to yourself for a change, yeah? Cuz we all trust you, Lynn. You’re the best of us, and you’ll find a way—not cuz of some silly nickname, but cuz you’re too stubborn to give up until you do.”

Lynn might have choked up at that, but Edgar didn’t seem to notice. He just lifted a hand and gently stroked her cheek as if brushing away a strand of hair. Then he cleared his throat, mumbled, “See you tomorrow, Lynn,” and headed for the door, leaving her with so many new things to think about that there was no room in her brain for worry.

* * *

“Team Voodoo Girls, checking in.”

“Welcome, ladies,” Lynn said at the group of five young women who had appeared around the bend in the dirt access road that cut through the woods. They wore an assortment of close-fitting athletic wear—nothing as expensive as the sponsored uniforms Lynn’s team wore, but efficient enough to get the job done. In augmented reality, though, Lynn knew these girls would be decked out in matching sleek armor like so many cyberpunk ninjas. Lynn knew this because she’d seen them before in the qualifying tournament last September. She’d been impressed with the team’s look then and was excited to get to meet them now.

“You sure know how to pick ’em, don’tcha,” the team captain, Quorra, said as she approached, looking around at the expanse of bare trees. Miraculously, the March weather was dry, if overcast, and not too cold. At least they wouldn’t be slogging through mud.

The Voodoo Girls stopped at the edge of the growing crowd of people on the access road while Quorra continued forward. The woman was a bit taller than Lynn, probably in her early twenties, with short, dark hair. She smiled as she shook Lynn’s hand.

“This is totally surreal, finally getting to meet you. Your team killed it during the qualifiers, not to mention that stunt you pulled at the end!”

Lynn shrugged uncomfortably.

“Just trying to do my best.”

“Well, we’re honored you invited us to come smoke these mobs with you. This is going to be epic.”

“I’m honored you all came.” Lynn looked around at the dozen other teams that had already arrived, some huddled close, others spread out and mingling as they talked animatedly. “A lot of people traveled a long way to be here. I’m surprised anybody came at all,” she admitted and gave Quorra a chagrined smile.

“Are you kidding? A chance to hunt with a Hunter Strike Team, take down a boss, and make bank on experience and loot? Any gamer with half a brain would kill to be here.”

Lynn resisted the urge to say something pessimistic. She was supposed to be projecting confidence and authority. Why was that so much harder in the real than in virtual?

“Well, hopefully with all of us working together, we can make mincemeat of these TDMs. Why don’t you go meet some of the other captains while we wait for everybody else to arrive? We’ve still got about fifteen minutes until I do the op brief.”

“Right on. Killing’s what we do, you can count on me and my girls!”

Lynn laughed and gave Quorra a thumbs up, then the other Hunter headed back to her team. As Lynn turned to survey the people around her, she caught Ronnie staring after Quorra, an odd look on his face. What was it? Curiosity? Lynn suppressed a grin. Ronnie would probably get angry and moody if she called him on it, so she simply continued her survey of the sizable crowd. Edgar stood nearby, keeping his own quiet watch while masticating his usual piece of gum. Dan and Mack were in among the other teams, talking to captains they’d made friends with in virtual during the weeks of prep for the op.

Of the twenty-seven teams who had committed to coming, five had been forced to cancel last minute. She’d sent meeting coordinates to the remaining twenty-two that morning; of those, thirteen had already arrived.

A part of Lynn was still amazed anyone had shown up at all, though the lack of paparazzi drones hovering overhead was probably a bigger miracle. She’d sworn the teams to secrecy, emphasizing that the presence of drones or spectators could ruin their operation and waste the time, effort, and money they’d invested. So far, it looked like the other Hunters had taken her seriously and had been sufficiently discreet in finding their meeting place.

Lynn knew drones would show up eventually. There were several that patrolled the skies high above her school on a frequent basis, and her school was only a few miles south. But hopefully they would arrive too late to tip off any lens junkies.

“Hugo,” Lynn subvocalized, “bring up the list of teams in the group chat room.”

“Of course, Miss Lynn.”

As her eyes scanned down the list in her AR display, names jumped out at her: Maelstrom, Light Brigade, Bloodletters, Monster Control Bureau, The Lone Gunmen, and many more. All were teams vying for top scores on the team leaderboard, though none of them were official Hunter Strike Teams. She was mentally checking off those who had already arrived when movement up the access road caught her eye.

Two more teams appeared, already mingling and talking as they trekked down the path. One of them was made up of all older adults. Not that there weren’t middle-aged people in some of the other teams. But with the amount of physical effort it took to achieve upper-tier scores, the game definitely favored the young.

These players, though, looked fit enough to be pro athletes, and they moved with an easy grace that made Lynn’s eyes narrow. For a moment, she wondered if they could be connected to Connor and his former ARS team. But no. There were plenty of reasons for people to be fit, and these Hunters looked like they had a couple decades on Connor and his flunkies, so it seemed doubtful they moved in the same circles.

“Team Light Brigade, checking in.”

“Team Ork Iz Da Best, checking in.”

Lynn grinned to herself and welcomed the two new teams as they nodded in greeting and looked around. One member of the older group of Hunters broke off and approached Lynn. He was of medium height with brown hair, a friendly face, and a little cleft in his chin. One hand was in the pocket of his formfitting jacket, the other he withdrew to shake her hand as he got close.

“DeathShot13, at your service.”

Lynn barely registered the man’s words because his familiar voice sent her into a spiral of shock. Her mouth fell open and she gasped, “YodaMaster?”

The man’s lips twitched, and he raised one eyebrow.

“Oh, you play WarMonger? Client, rival, or victim?”

Realizing what she’d done, Lynn swallowed hard, her face heating.

Idiot.

While she recognized her friend’s voice from the many times they’d fought with—and against—each other in WarMonger, Yoda only knew her by a gravelly baritone attached to a fake name and salty personality. And here she had nearly revealed her Larry Coughlin identity to him.

“Uh, mostly victim,” she said, voice still shaky. She gave him a smile, and he smiled back, his eyes twinkling merrily.

“Well, then, you have my sympathy. Your skills have certainly improved moving to TD Hunter. You put me to shame more often than not on the leaderboards.”

I can’t believe Yoda is DeathShot, Lynn thought dazedly, still not quite registering his words. She was thrilled. And terrified. It would be the height of awesome working with him in the real, but she would have to be very, very careful. It would only take a moment of inattention to slip up and out herself.

“Uhh, yeah, I guess? You keep me on my toes, too, though. You’re always passing me up. But, um, thanks for coming all this way. Canada, right?”

DeathShot nodded.

“I travel a fair bit for work, but most recently, yes.”

“Cool. Um, who are your friends?”

The man waved the rest of his team over and Lynn was struck again by the way they moved. It was very . . . deliberate. Balanced. Ready. They had to be into some sort of martial art or sport. Or perhaps military, based on the haircuts of the three other guys. The fifth team member was a woman, all lean muscle and smooth grace, with hair in a long blond braid down her back. DeathShot introduced her first.

“This is my wife, Sonia388Lapua.”

Lynn grinned.

“Wife, huh? I thought all gamers were married to the game? When do you have time to do, you know, normal people stuff?”

DeathShot and Sonia both laughed, though they also exchanged a knowing look.

“Our ‘normal people stuff’ is gaming,” Sonia said, her Canadian accent stronger than her husband’s. Lynn had always assumed Yoda—that is, DeathShot—had simply hailed from somewhere up near Minnesota, but apparently she’d been a few hundred miles off.

“These jokers,” DeathShot said, motioning to his other teammates, “are HoldMyBeer, Operation_Stinkbug and Mr_E006. We go way back. They were the only ones gullible enough to get talked into this little jaunt,” he finished with a wink. The other guys didn’t say anything, but they all nodded Lynn’s way. She nodded back, feeling uncomfortably like she was being evaluated. All of them wore sleek, top-of-the-line AR glasses, similar to hers. The overcast sky meant the glasses weren’t tinted and so she had an unobstructed view of their scrutiny.

She wondered if they were also mercs she’d known and fought with in WarMonger.

“Well, I hope you all enjoy yourselves,” she said to DeathShot’s team. “We have our work cut out for us.”

“We’re counting on it,” Sonia said, with a delightfully predatory smile.

Lynn couldn’t help smiling back, and she nodded in approval.

A few other teams had shown up while they talked, so Lynn excused herself to check in with the newly arrived captains.

By the time fifteen minutes was up, all but two of the twenty-two teams had arrived. Lynn shifted from foot to foot, wondering if she could afford to wait any longer. But the weight of over a hundred pairs of eyes turning toward her, one by one, told her she had to get the show on the road.

Lynn’s skin flushed hot and cold in turn. She swallowed, hard.

Movement beside her made her turn and look up at Edgar, who smiled.

“You got this, Lynn. Let’s go kill stuff.”

Right. It was what she did best. She would get it done—and do a good job—because Edgar had been absolutely right yesterday: she was too stubborn to give up.

Ronnie would join a feminist activist group before she gave up.

Dan would quit gaming and enroll in law school before she gave up.

She would go vegan and swear off juicy, bloody meat before she gave up.

Okay, she told herself, this is just a really, really big group of mercs, ready to beat down some trash-talking Tier Twos. Put your Larry face on and go have fun.

She took a deep breath and tried to find that calm, centered, Larry competence she relied on when hunting. It usually came to her easily, but this was the first time she’d needed it while a hundred strangers stared intently at her. That didn’t happen in virtual, and she didn’t know how to block out the wave of self-consciousness that prickled across her skin like a thousand creeping spiders.

Fake it till you make it, she told herself sternly, and opened her mouth.

“Thanks, everyone, for coming. Please open your TD Hunter apps and accept the hunting group invite I’m about to send you. I’ll brief everybody on the group channel.” She switched from a battlefield pitch to subvocalization. “Hugo, make it so.”

“Done, Miss Lynn. I took the liberty of naming it ‘Skadi’s Horde.’ Is this name acceptable or do you wish me to change it?”

“That’s perfect,” Lynn subvocalized. “Now, push that unit assignment chart I made to the group, and put me on the group channel.”

“Done.”

Feeling more centered, Lynn straightened to her full five-foot-four height, clasped her hands behind her back, and began speaking in a normal voice.

“Coms check. Everyone who can hear me, sound off in the group chat. Hugo,” she said, switching to subvocalization, “do a head count, will you? Oh, and we’ll follow the usual protocols for this op. I’ll subvocalize your commands and use normal volume for broadcasting.”

“Excellent, Miss Lynn. And everyone has indicated their audio equipment is working.”

“Thanks.” She cast her gaze across the crowd, keeping her expression carefully neutral. A few people whispered to each other, but most were watching her attentively.

“If you haven’t already,” she began, “take a look at the unit assignment chart I posted in the group chat. Before anyone asks, no, the assignments are not negotiable. I made them based on each team’s leaderboard stats, loadout, and special skills as reported by your team captains. Our strategy today is simple: We’ll be assaulting in a spearhead formation with flanking wings. I’ve divided the teams up into four squads, each with five teams. Green Spear and Gold Spear squads will make up the east and west sides of the spear respectively, while Green Wing and Gold Wing squads will make up the east and west wings.

“Our primary objective is to destroy the boss, and our secondary objective is to wipe out the encircling TDMs. I’m confident our first objective is achievable if we all work together and play at the top of our game. The second objective will depend on our resource levels and TDM numbers remaining once the boss is destroyed. I’ll make a call on it when the time comes.”

As she spoke, Hugo displayed a series of graphics in the Skadi’s Horde chat showing a map of the area and their proposed assault formation. The woods they were in made a rough triangle about a mile on each side, with the high school bordering it to the south, neighborhoods to the east, and an interstate to the northwest forming the long, slanting side of the triangle. The mesh node sat in the middle of the triangle, while the access road began at the north point of the triangle and paralleled the interstate down the long side of the triangle before turning south and going through the middle of the woods to the node.

“Our spearhead will follow the access road straight south while our wings keep pace and clear a wide enough swatch of TDMs to keep our rear clear. Once we reach the boss’s location, the spearhead will break through the TDM circle and form a firing line to assault the boss while the wings fold in to protect our flanks and keep the buggers from encircling us.”

Again, while she gave the briefing, Hugo played a graphic in the Horde’s chat showing the progression of the assault. The half green, half gold spearpoint with its accompanying wings moved south toward the thick circle of red dots surrounding the last known location of the still unidentified boss.

“Team captains, you decide on your own team’s individual formation while we assault forward. Your team’s needs may change as we move over different terrain and take on various TDMs, so use whatever arrangement works best as long as you stay in line with your squad. Are there any questions so far before I cover fight tactics and best practices?”

“Yeah,” came a call from the crowd, “why don’t we just go to the middle of the boss circle, pop into combat mode and smoke him, then pop back out?”

“Valid question,” Lynn said with a nod. “From now on, though, please identify yourself with game handle and team name before you speak. So, again, please?”

“ElLoboFrohike, Team The Lone Gunmen. Why don’t we pop in and out? What’s with all the elaborate dancing around?”

“Two reasons, Frohike. One, you’re here on the invitation of Skadi’s Wolves, and we’re a Hunter Strike team. Popping in and out is illegal during the competition, so we’re focusing on tactics we can actually use to win the world championship. Second, we’re all here for loot and experience, both of which we’ll get more of this way. Next question?”

“Your formation is—”

“Name and team, Hunter,” Lynn barked, cutting the man off. He was at the front of the crowd, arms crossed, standing almost as tall as Edgar. He scowled at her, but she stared right back, expression cold and hard.

She was glad he couldn’t hear her rapidly beating heart.

“ChiefZykhee. Captain, Team Maelstrom. Like I said, your whole plan is pointlessly complicated. We’ve got, what, a hundred high-level gamers here?” he said, gesturing around at the crowd. “There’s more than enough of us to just sweep in and annihilate these mofos. So, let’s do it.”

Lynn did not immediately respond. She stood at ease, staring the team captain down with an iron-hard gaze as she decided what to say. Her Lynn brain was too busy worrying what people would think to be useful, and it was much harder to shove aside than usual.

Come on, I’m better than this! What would Larry do?

Annoyance surged in her, stronger than the anxiety, and instead of thinking, Lynn simply acted. She slid one electric-blue baton out of its sheath pocket on her thigh and started spinning it over and around her hand. She’d spent so much time playing with her batons in down time between hunts that she could do some pretty impressive tricks without even looking.

Eyes still locked on Zykhee, she took several slow steps forward until she was not quite within arm’s reach. She finished a final spin of the baton and let it come to rest clasped between both hands as she adopted a wide stance.

“As much as I’d enjoy laughing my ass off while you and your team got surrounded and beaten into a pulp by hordes of TDMs, I didn’t invite you here to watch you or anyone else do your own stupid thing and leave the rest of us in the lurch. I invited you to participate in a mission where we work together to accomplish a common goal. A mission that I am in charge of.” With each emphasized word, Lynn slapped the baton into the palm of one hand with an audible smack. “If you have a problem with that, you’re welcome to march your little snowflake self back down that access road and get the hell out of my way. Is that understood?”

Smack.

The team captain’s mouth twisted in displeasure, but he finally snorted and nodded curtly.

“Excellent,” Lynn said, and spun away, suddenly aware of how hard her heart was pounding against her rib cage. She faced the rest of the crowd and began to pace as she continued. “I don’t know how many of you have noticed this, but TDM numbers have been increasing exponentially. And anyone who has attacked a boss before knows that in addition to whatever monsters were already there, more always show up. We’re not just dealing with a mob of TDMs. We’re dealing with a mob, their boss, and the hundreds of TDMs in the vicinity that will make a beeline for us the moment the boss starts taking damage. So, if there’s no more stupid questions, let’s move on.”

Lynn kept pacing while she went over operating procedures and best practices, things like setting the app to minimize leveling announcements and the best way to switch between individual, team, and squad channels. She finished with a few worst-case-scenario instructions, so everybody would be on the same page.

“Lastly and most importantly, do not under any circumstances stand inside the boss.” Lynn swallowed. She wanted to tell the truth—or at least what she suspected. But that would make her sound like a crazy person. So, she took another approach instead. “I know some of you have heard about what I did at the qualifiers, but that was a one-time thing. The competition judges told me directly that the tactic is now listed as illegal. And besides, it messes with the app and glitches have been known to happen. The last thing we want is a massive glitch just when we’re about to hit the motherland of experience and loot. So, I repeat, everyone stay away from the boss. They don’t usually move much, but if it advances towards us, back up and stay out of its way. Got it?”

As the acknowledgments rolled in, Lynn glanced at the time on her overhead display and noted that her two missing teams still hadn’t shown up. Shoving that worry away, she spoke again.

“If there are any more questions, ask your team captains. Captains will address it to their squad leader, and if the squad leaders don’t know, they can ask me.

“Now, squad leaders, assemble and decide on team order within your squads. Make sure everybody knows where they’re supposed to be and what we’re doing. Go!”

Lynn crossed her arms and waited, hoping against hope that she’d made wise selections in appointing her squad leaders. It was the hardest part of being in charge: Depending on your subordinates to do their job and do it well. It was so tempting to step in and micromanage, but she knew from painful experience that doing so would be disastrous.

To distract herself, she turned back to her own guys, subvocalizing to Hugo to switch to her team channel.

“Any questions?” she asked, looking at each of her team members in turn.

“Nope,” Dan said, bouncing on his toes. He already had his batons out, and he spontaneously flicked them back and forth, miming various martial arts moves from one or another of his favorite action vids.

Mack was a little pale, but his face was set in determination. Lynn was weirdly struck by how . . . mature he looked. He’d bulked out over the past nine months and had managed to almost grow an entire goatee—even more impressive, he’d convinced his mom to let him keep it. If Riko had been a real person, Lynn wouldn’t have faulted her pick in a man to admire.

Ronnie, of course, looked as composed and serious as ever. His eyes were unfocused, and she assumed he was reviewing their assigned formation. Though, being at the tip of the spear with Edgar, all he had to worry about would be killing TDMs as efficiently as possible and staying alive.

It was up to Lynn to keep an eye on the whole formation and direct the squad leaders as needed to keep them together in a cohesive fighting force. Dan would be doubling as sniper and tactical, while Mack juggled fighting tactical as well as keeping them all supplied. In the prior weeks, Lynn had instructed each captain to designate a team member as their supply personnel. Being a Hunter Strike Team had its perks—any hunting group created by Skadi’s Wolves had special abilities, like being able to share supplies across the whole group. Their biggest challenges would be collecting loot dropped without slowing down and keeping good com discipline. The whole group had practiced operating together several times in virtual, but there was always that one idiot who kept forgetting to mute themselves or switch to the appropriate channel.

“You ready to rumble?” Lynn asked Edgar.

He grinned down at her.

“Like a boss, boss.”

Lynn rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

“Remember, team, we’re using game handles, not names.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Ronnie grumbled. “Now, can we get this show on the road?”

Lynn redirected her attention outward and was relieved to see that the crowd had shifted into four loose groups. Most everyone was quiet, listening to their squad leader’s instructions over their individual channels.

“Hugo, you ready for this?”

“I was created ready, Miss Lynn.”

“Har-de-har-har. Just a regular comedian there, aren’t you.”

“I have my moments, and they are entirely your fault.”

“What? How so?”

“My primary function is to assist my users, and nothing engenders a better working relationship than adopting the personality traits uniquely attractive to each Hunter.”

“So, you’re saying you’re snarky and difficult because I like it when you’re snarky and difficult?”

“Just so, Miss Lynn.”

Lynn was speechless for a moment, then remembered she had more important things to do than fuss at her AI.

“We’ll come back to this, Hugo, I promise.”

“I do not doubt it in the slightest.”

Lynn’s eyes narrowed, but instead of retorting, she told Hugo to switch to her squad leaders’ channel.

“RavenStriker to squad leaders, sound off. Are your squads ready to go?”

“DeathShot13, Gold Spear ready to go.”

“IAmAgentFranks, Green Spear ready to go.”

“FoxyMulder, Gold Wing ready to go.”

“Kharneth666, Green Wing ready to go.”

“Okay, everyone form up their squads and get ready to move out. Skadi’s Wolves will be leading down this access road about a quarter mile before we spread out into our formation and go into combat mode.”

A chorus of acknowledgments responded, and as each spoke the squad leaders’ names popped up on her display. It was a nice function that meant she always knew who was talking whether they identified themselves or not. She preferred players stick to standard radio etiquette, but in a fast-paced battle situation, she knew a lot of those rules would fall by the wayside.

Lynn mentally shrugged. They were gamers, not soldiers.

With Skadi’s Wolves in the lead, the whole crowd of TD Hunter players headed down the access road toward their biggest battle yet.

“Incoming chat request from DeathShot13,” said Hugo. “Would you like to accept?”

“Accept.”

“I’m impressed, RavenStriker. You’ve organized something truly remarkable today.”

Lynn smiled to herself, glad her friend Yoda was behind her and couldn’t see her face.

“I have a championship to win. We do what we have to do, yeah? Don’t be too impressed yet, though. We still have a boss to kill. For all I know this little op will fall down around my ears the moment we go hot.”

“I don’t think it will. My squad won’t, in any case. You can rely on us.”

“That’s why you get the best seat in the house, DeathShot. I figure you all can take the heat.”

“Thanks for that,” he replied, amused sarcasm in his tone. “My kill-to-damage ratio won’t thank me, but my wife certainly will. She loves getting it stuck in.”

Lynn coughed. “Uh, right. Well, if it’s any consolation, I’ll be right here beside you when shit hits the fan. We can enjoy our dipping scores together.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it, my friend.”

Lynn gulped. Was that stereotypical Canadian politeness? Or had he guessed who she was?

No time to worry about it. She had an op to lead, a boss to kill, and over a hundred people depending on her to do a good job.

She only hoped she was leading them all to victory, not possible injury—or worse.


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