“You there! Hold up!”

Jerik paused, mere inches from the alley that he was going to use to escape. He clicked his tongue, mildly annoyed at the interruption. So close, he thought. He could continue, of course. There was a slight chance that the shouting person was addressing someone else. It wasn’t likely though, and ignoring one of the street gangs drew attention. The wrong kind.

Jerik turned around, keeping his voice as even as possible. “Are you talking to me?”

“Who else could I be talking about?” The speaker, striding towards him with the swagger of someone who’s used to throwing his weight around, was openly carrying an assault rifle. A good one too, Jerik thought, glancing at the weapon. It had a built-in stabilizer, which meant that it could likely cover twice the normal range of an assault rifle, and maintain a steady stream. Thirty or forty round magazine. ACOG sight, with thermal overlay. So most methods of concealment wouldn’t work.

“Can I help you with something?” Jerik turned so that he was fully facing the man, keeping his hands in the open. His rifle would have already been identified, he was sure. Or rather, they would have identified the rifle that it looked like. “I’m running a little late, you see. My friends and I are going on a farming run.”

“You just bought something,” the man said, leaning obnoxiously close to Jerik’s face. He kept his body stock-still, trying not to betray any sign of hostility. “You must be new to town, sniper. You walk down the South Markets and buy something, we get a cut.”

“I know that sir,” Jerik said. A little deference couldn’t hurt. “But I have yet to spend any of my points. I wanted to see if he had an upgrade to my old rifle.”

“You didn’t have that rifle when you went in,” the man said. Jerik felt a moment of doubt. The man had to be guessing. He’d been sure that nobody was watching him when he’d entered the store, after all, and he had a keen eye.”

“Of course I did,” he said. The man smirked as he heard the defiant note in his voice. Jerik cursed himself quietly. “Alright. I bought the rifle while I was in there. But I spent the money weeks ago. Special order.”

“But you’ve already lied to me once,” the man said. His compatriots, several yards behind him, let out a round of cackles. “I should teach you what happens to those who lie to the Iron Order.”

Jerik resisted the urge to snort, but with difficulty. The Iron Order, the small army that controlled the city of Zenken, was of course led by his target, Magnus Oran. It was technically all one large army, but anyone with brains knew that Magnus only controlled his inner circle and guards. The others had split into small gangs, and roamed the city, waylaying people. They demanded fines, tolls, or sometimes just went hunting. It all depended on their mood.

This charming stranger wasn’t included in any of the information that Jerik’s information broker had provided. She was a professional, so he knew that this man meant nothing. His eyes flicked to cover his friends again. Five to one. He could draw his firearm quickly and shoot this one if he was distracted, but then he’d be caught out in the open as the other four opened fire. Even he wasn’t fast enough to reach the alley and disappear. He slowly lifted his hands, deciding to take the path of least aggression. He didn’t want to risk losing the rifle right after he’d bought it.

“You’re right, of course,” he said, hoping he sounded chastised, and even a little afraid. “Please accept my apologies. I’ll give you a cut of the sale price.”

Luckily, he thought, he’d researched everything he needed to know about Ghost Ranger ahead of time. He knew the rifle was worth thirty thousand points. He reached into the pouch at his belt and pulled out a transfer chip, funneling three thousand into it. It was a lot compared to his current balance, but well worth the cost.  He flipped the coin into the air, and the man in front of him caught it, a broad grin on his face.

“That’s right,” he sneered. “Good to see you know your place.”

He began to turn away and finished harassing another innocent bystander. Jerik took several steps back, heaving an unseen sigh of relief at his clean getaway. Then he tensed suddenly. Right in the center of his field of vision, he saw words flashing. [You are being targeted by a rifle]. It was a notification from one of his accessories, the [Eye of Prediction]. The useful little item let him know when he was within the crosshairs of a rifle. It also had a notification for spells that were locking on to him.

Jerik threw himself to the side as hard as he could, slamming his shoulder against the pavement, not a second too soon. The crack of a rifle rang in the air, and he heard the bullet whiz right through the space he’d occupied. Instead, the round struck the calf of the man that had just shaken him down. He cried in agony and collapsed. His friends lifted their rifles at once, and, only seeing one enemy, assumed that Jerik himself was the reason for the gunshot. They opened fire.

Jerik ignored the pain in his shoulder and continue to roll away, taking shelter behind the corner into the alley. The gunfire was deafening, and chips were shattering away from the wall. He yanked his cloak to the side as the barrage of bullets stopped, and yanked his low-powered sidearm out of its holster. He was on his knees by the time the first gunman came around the corner. Their weapon was leveled too high to hit him, and he shot twice in the small window of movement that was required to lower the assault rifle. The man collapsed, his inventory bursting out from his body like a small explosion of items.

That was how death worked in Menora. If you were killed, then everything on your body was dropped. You could store things in one of the banks, of course, but you always needed one thing or another, so if you die unexpectedly, you can leave a lot of loot behind. Which suited Jerik just perfectly. He scrabbled for the rifle, hooking one finger into the strap and yanking it towards him. He was on his feet, the weapon leveled before the next opponent appeared.

He fired at once, but the weapon was inaccurate and missed. Jerik cursed. It was the major weakness of an assault rifle. If you couldn’t control the recoil, it was wild in its bullet spread. He continued firing, spraying bullets at the group and forcing them to dive for cover. Then, when the weapon was empty, he stooped down to grab as many of the dropped items as he could. Thankfully, his [Sentinel] came in handy. The small robot zipped around, grabbing items left and right, and shoving them into its own storage space. Then he was running down the alley once again, as fast as his legs could carry him.

[You are being targeted by a rifle] Shit! He dove to the ground again, just as he came into view in a sidestreet. That kind of bullet speed could only mean a sniper, he thought. Some unknown sniper was taking potshots at him, trying to kill him. Is someone getting revenge for a past job? Or he could just be backup for the gang that Jerik had just met. He could have taken the first shot so that they could get all of his points and items, even after robbing him. Either way, if he wanted to survive, he’d have to locate the hidden shooter. He dug a small cylindrical sphere out of his belt pouch and threw it into the air.

“[Spydrone] activate!” He shouted. At that exact moment, he saw a flash of movement down the alley. The gunmen had regrouped and were pursuing him. Just perfect. He took a sharp turn into another side street, moving away from where the sniper was. The drone sprouted propellers at its head, and a camera appeared as it whizzed into the air with a quiet buzzing sound.

He pulled out his tablet as he made another turn, and looked through the eye of the drone. “Locate the source of those shots!”

At his voice command, the drone turned sharply in midair to survey the city before it. Its scanner sub-function was incredibly fast, as Jerik had paid a modder specifically for that. It was a counter-sniping tool. He was lucky that it was so fast, or it wouldn’t have managed to find the shooter before a bullet hit it, making it explode. Jerik took another sharp turn, the sound of his pursuit passing down the second turn he’d taken, then moving away. He’d lost them. He crouched behind a bin to study the tablet’s screen.

The drone had pinged a specific location of the city and had been halfway through zooming in to get a clearer picture. A cluster of buildings was in the center of the picture, and Jerik could just barely make out the shape of a human. The rooftops were a dark grey, and so was the cloak the shooter was using. Almost impossible to see. He turned the screen off and tucked it back into his pouch, thinking quickly. The simple fact that the shooter had tried a second shot meant that his job was to kill him. He wouldn’t waste the second shot if he was working with the gang. So it was revenge, then.

One of his previous customers must have given his name away, he thought. Not like he could expect decency from that sort, but it still angered him. Glancing up at the roofs of the buildings around him, he saw a few different ways he could climb up. But the hidden shooter would be searching the rooftops, and he’d reveal himself with movement. Only one option left, then. He turned right around, redoubling his path to go back to the main street. Stopping just shy of where he’d been shot the second time, he unslung his new rifle and chambered a round.

He dropped to his stomach, the rifle held out in front of him, peering through the scope. He had to do this quickly, but gradually. Maker’s Mark had been sold to him unmodded, if you didn’t count the railgun add-on, he would have to worry about his scope flashing. He inched himself to the side, peering through the scope as he moved. Slowly, a sliver at a time, that cluster of white buildings came into his view. He rested his finger on the trigger, quickly looking from side to side. There was no sign of the other sniper now.

So he’d moved after the second shot, then. Had he given up, thinking that he’d escaped? That didn’t seem likely, given that he’d taken a second shot in the first place. So he’d just changed spots, then. A common tactic when facing another sniper. Shoot, then move. He’d been able to afford the second shot because Jerik hadn’t been ready to shoot. Jerik adjusted the zoom on his scope now, bringing his field of vision closer. Then he saw, just barely visible at the very edge of one roof, the barrel of a rifle. It was pointed a few meters to his right, waiting to see if he’d enter the main street again.

Jerik gave a soft snort of derision as he recognized the tactic. The sniper was firing his weapon via the controller. Now, the weakness with a controller was that it extended right out of the butt of the rifle. It meant that you weren’t visible for targeting, sure, but it also meant that your position was still known. And since you weren’t holding the rifle yourself, you were slower to change direction. He flicked a lever on the side of his scope to turn on manual targeting, raised his aim a millimeter or two, and pulled the trigger.

Maker’s Mark jerked as it fired, slamming into his shoulder. He kept perfectly still, just in case he needed to fire again. But half a second later, he saw a flicker of movement, and the rifle fell sideways as the person controlling it was thrown sideways. Only then did he relax, retrieving his tablet once more to see who it was he’d just killed. At the very top of his profile, it showed his Kill-Death score of 58-5. Then he clicked on most recent kills and felt his jaw drop as he saw the name there. It was the very last person he expected to target him, but he knew the statement was genuine.

[Jerik Barr] has ended the killstreak of [Averin] at 23!