“You have got to be kidding me, Ian. We don’t have time for this,” Doug started, but Ian cut him off with a sharp knife-hand.

  “Don’t be a whiny bitch,” Ian shot back. Seeing Doug’s face sour, he added, “Buddy, listen to yourself. Of course we have time for this. We compress time here, did you forget? And when was the last time we kicked some ass together? What do you say, just for shits and giggles?” His grin was pure mischief.

  Doug’s frown softened. The desire to just play was written all over Ian’s face. ‘He’s right… it's been months since we’ve played together, and yeah, it would feel good to let off some steam. I sent a note to Arthur, we should be quick, why not?’ He called up his HUD and swapped into PVP/Arena gear from his arena inventory.

  “Yes!” Ian said, almost giddy, watching Doug’s armor change. He pushed a party invite, saw Doug accept, then opened his own inventory, not to change gear, but to load up on extra ammunition, bandages, and stim shots.

  The I Am Myth arena was a survival style event, waves of enemies growing harder and faster. You couldn’t log out until you hit wave ten. On top of that, other players were gunning for you. The player with the highest kill count won, with prizes ranging from advanced or heroic gear to Tough tier crafting mats and a fat stack of plastic. Kill multipliers rewarded player versus player kills, stacking from ×0.5 to a brutal ×10 if you kept the streak going.

  The territory itself was infamous. Every MOB in Eclipse Nexus had a rank, E through Sigma. but here, even the baseline Mundane zombies were equivalent to Beast, or A class in other zones. Beast class here? Nearly unstoppable unless you landed a perfect headshot… and survived getting close enough to take it.

  Ian looked Doug over with an approving smirk. The Nocturne Knight set. advanced combat armor, modded for bullet and blade resistance, boosts to brawn and quickness, and bristling with gadgets. The belt was pure geek culture fan service.

  “Fanboy,” Ian teased, tapping the stylized bat crest on Doug’s chest. Ian still couldn’t fathom Doug’s obsession with that brooding vigilante archetype he loved so much back home. “Let me see those pistols, you need something better for Myth.” He added holding out his hands for Doug’s twin pistols.

  Doug just said, “Yup,” and handed over his twin Sig Sauer M35s. Ian gave them a perfunctory inspection before shaking his head.

  “Won’t cut it here. Great for normal play, but this is Myth, man, you need more umph.” He began tapping through his arena inventory. The arena pull system linked to all your storage in Umbra, but unlike survival mode, you could set aside PVP presets for instant loadout swaps.

  “I’ve been saving these for you,” Ian said. “Would’ve used ’em myself, but I’m a rifle guy.” He patted the 7.62 FN SCAR-Q slung at his side, then held up a pair of pistols mounted in a dual holster.

  “Look familiar?”

  Doug’s active scan returned the details, gold titanium nitrate plating, inlaid grips with Chinese dragons.

  S-Class Memorabilia Troy’s Toys & Holster

  Type: Springfield Armory Mil-Spec M1911A1 Caliber: .45 Clip Size: 7 Rounds

  Mods: Skeletonized Hammers (x2 Shot Speed), Inlay Grips (Activated Explosive Rounds), Heinie Target Sights (+75% Accuracy), Beveled Magazine Wells (Woo Clip x5), V-12 Ported Slides (0 Recoil) Holster: +50% Draw Speed, 0% To drop pistol when holstered. Auto clip replacement when holstered.

  I unleash a biblical scourge.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Holy shit dude, you found them?” Doug asked, amazed. These were the guns from one of their favorite ‘surge films. When they had asked the programmers to include memorabilia from across the zombie/horror genre they had also given them a list of things to add in from some of their personal favorite movies, books and comics.

  This set of matching pistols were one item off the list and Ian had found the quest and won the guns. While they were the creators of this world and had administrative rights, they did their best to play like anyone else, this meant that they earned their skills, stats and gear like everyone else, the slow grind.

  “Hell yeah. Epic quest. Two-headed mutant zombie, seaside church, Deadsville. Brutal fight, but worth it.” Ian pushed the guns toward him. “They’re yours.”

  Doug hesitated, but Ian just scowled and set a stack of clips on the ledge before checking his own gear. Doug chose Yes when the binding prompt appeared and smiled, ‘Ian is so, Ian.’ He thought.

  Doug shifted several of the pouches on his belt, then clipped the custom holster snug against his lower back. He twisted and moved through a few quick drills, making sure his range of motion stayed clean. The draw felt natural, fast, perfect. He slid the fresh clips into the pouches flanking the pistols.

  Knowing Ian wouldn’t stomach anything too sentimental, Doug just said, “Thanks, man,” with a quick grin.

  “No worries, pansy. What kind of bitch uses pistols in an apocalypse anyway?” Ian shot back with his trademark sarcasm. Doug laughed, tucking his old pistols into his inventory, then pulling out a tactical backpack and combat harness.

  “Hey, I wouldn’t use any guns if I had the choice, but here, you’re dead without one.” Doug looked up. “So how are we running this? Bert or Ernie?”

  Ian reached into the air, pulling a straight bladed sword from his arena inventory, sliding it into a custom sheath along his spine. Doug scanned it.

  S-Class Memorabilia

  Blade of the Sunstrider

  Type: Jian style double edged straight sword.

  Material: Titanium

  Mods: Chemically Etched (Can penetrate up to T/H), Tooled Pommed (x2.25 speed & accuracy)’ Konji Etchings (x2 Iaijtsu Skill) Blood Groove (x2.75 handling), Polished Blade (+75% to cause a miss when reflection is present)

  “No cheesy vampire clichés included.”

  “Dude!” Doug grinned. “You’ve been busy. If I didn’t know any better…” He let it trail off.

  “But you do,” Ian countered with a chuckle. “Picked it up a few days ago in Remaining Foul. Saw it sticking out of a Beast’s shoulder on a Twitch stream, thing fought like the guy from the third movie, and it was hell to kill. But now? Sword’s mine.”

  Doug was about to reply when his HUD chimed: Match begins in two minutes. “So… Burt or Erny?” he repeated.

  Ian smirked. “Burt plays the long game. Erny? Doesn’t think past his next glory hole. I say Erny, seat-of-the-pants works fine here.” His expression sharpened. “We’ll hold this spot through wave seven, then move. Once they know we’re here, every player will be gunning for us.”

  “Well, no time to waste. Got any of those auto turrets?” Doug was already eyeing the balcony layout, two doors back into the building, plus stone-walled platforms running left and right.

  “Yeah. Why?” Ian asked, but pulled a large wooden box from his arena inventory and handed it over. Doug moved to the north corner; Ian headed south.

  They set up the turrets, sleek six-barrel .50 cal sentries with sensor arrays locked their bracing rods in place, and listened to the soft whir as each began scanning its sector. Doug jogged past. “Going to lay prox mines and tripwires, other side’s done,” he said in clipped efficiency. Ian apricated this side of Doug, the ‘get er done’ side, but it annoyed him as well because sometimes you just had to say fuck it and let things fall as they may. Doug was definitely the Burt in this relationship.

  Ian deployed his H&K G53a sniper rifle on the balcony’s edge, bipod resting on the rail, scanning the park through the scope. Thirty seconds to start. Doug appeared beside him with a spotter’s scope, calling targets in clipped, precise tones.

  “Smoker, two o’clock, 805 meters, third-story balcony. Second target behind.”

  “Yep,” Ian said, breath slow, watching his HUD count down, 10 seconds left.

  “Three at five o’clock, 1,180 meters, ground level, behind the burned-out Starbucks.”

  “Stay on them. We’ll hit them next. Ok, three, two, one…” A jet screamed overhead, the shockwave rolling through the city as the countdown vanished with the rolling boom.