"Run!"

Footsteps echoed across the stone floor. The distinct hum of a swarm of Cybugs were audible through the thin walls. She grasped the makeshift gun, one hand outstretched facing back.

"But-"

She hissed, cutting off the voice as the makeshift gun ran out of ammo. Out of desperation, she threw the gun towards the oncoming swarm, and it uselessly bounced off the thick metal shell of the lead Cybug. Tears pricked the sides of her eyes as a hopelessly insane idea formed in her mind, glancing at the other exit. Desperation fueled her legs as she shouted,

"Run! Sonic, please-AAAAAAHHHH!"

A Cybug's pincers gored straight through her stomach, drawing dark red blood out of her body. The mouth of the Cybug spit acid at her point blank, and the pain, oh the pain…

A blue blur swept past her, and somehow, through the intense pain, she smiled. Then the bigger cybugs opened their maws, and the joy that coursed through her earlier was used as fuel to push on the pincer, aggravating the wound further, and she cried out as the darkness swallowed her, and she was falling, falling…

"AAH!"

A white-haired female shot up in bed, gasping and clutching the bed sheets. It took her a few moments to regain her bearings, but almost immediately after she had recovered, memories, different from the one she had dreamt of, trickled into her mind. A blank expression filled her face as she processed all the new information.

Her name was Sergeant Tamora Jean Calhoun. She's in Sector White, a place in Hero's Duty, which is a game. She led the Squad Alpha. Kohut was her second-in-command. Her team was a bunch of unreliable but loyal ninnies. Markowski especially. Her job is to guide to First Player Shooter to the 99 floors and activate the beacon manually. The beacon kills the Cybugs. Cybugs are an experiment horribly wrong and they litter that planet, becoming what they eat.

Cybugs have different varieties. The varieties are immediately inserted into her brain, each capability, weakness, each chink in the armor. The order from General Hologram to wipe out the Cybugs. The selection of her troops. A scientists-slash-soldier. Dates, compliments, the proposal. The wedding. Brad…

Tamora growled and got up from the military cot, examining her surroundings. No other cots were in sight. Her programming tells her that this room is private because of her rank and gender. A single mirror stood in one wall with a desk, on which the map to the whole district of Hero's Duty is placed along with a single plastic flower and a card. A small wardrobe stood on another wall, and a bathroom next to it faced the mirror.

She turned on the lights and examined the card from a distance. Searching her memories, the card obviously did not come from Hero's Duty as none of her men would even dare send her something with different intentions other than an official report. Tamora decided to just read the card, but brought the pistol under her pillow with her just in case.

As she passed the mirror, she stopped. Her instincts, pre-programmed instincts, told her to examine herself, and she did without any amount of vanity. She wore a pair of serviceable pants and a white camisole, very practical considering her game. Her waistline was impossible in real life, she somehow knew, but did not give it any further notice.

The card was scented. Once more, Brad went to her mind, but she shook the offending memories away. It was colored yellow with a distinct flowery scent, and sealed with a small stamp. Tamora wondered who would send a card during the time of instant communication, but decided to mull over it later. It read:

To whom this may concern,

Please be ready at the entrance to your game along with all other characters, locked or unlocked. The orientation would start from the moment all the characters are present at the archway. Someone will be there to guide you.

The Management

Tamora blinked at the card and turned it over to find another message.

Hello! My name is Julia and I'll be your guide to Pleasure City. Please take your time in gathering all the characters in your game. I'll be waiting at the archway.

It was signed with a smiley face. She raised an eyebrow at the informal message, but thought nothing of it as she took her towel from the wardrobe and readied her armor. The dream was completely forgotten.