Anderson entered the control room, followed by eight heavily armed and body-armored security personnel, seven men and one woman. The woman was Parisa, the company's head of security and someone that Rodney had had a crush on for a long time. She was Persian and very attractive, with long black hair and dark brown skin. Athletic, muscular, feminine, and well trained in combat, she was exactly the kind of woman he was attracted to. Unfortunately (of course), the feeling was not reciprocated. Although she was nice to him and showed him her warm and compassionate side, it was clear that she was just a friend, nothing more. No, women like her only wanted big, tough alpha males, thought Rodney. Like THAT guy. Like Brandon.

Brandon, standing right next to Parisa, was a weapons expert and ex-mercenary. A stereotypical tall, muscular alpha male, he had been hired to design the most realistic fake weapons for the enemies to use in the game, as well as acquire the real weapons that the security team were holding now. Each member was armed with an AK-47, a .45 pistol, a combat knife, and hundreds of rounds of ammo. In addition, each of them wore top-quality body armor that was designed to stop assault rifle rounds.

Rodney sighed as he looked at Parisa and Brandon and the way they looked at each other. It was clear that there was a mutual physical attraction between the two of them. Once Rodney had realized that there was no way a woman like Parisa would go for a guy like him, he had poured an increasing emotional investment into Maitreya, feeling more and more of a connection with her as he continued designing scenarios for her in his private game, gradually thinking of her as more and more real. Could his own mind have been what made her come to life in the other game? No, that was crazy...right?

"All right," came Mr. Anderson's voice, jolting Rodney out of his thoughts. "Is everything ready?"

"Yes, sir," said Mr. Walsh. "The game's up and running. She's out there. Staying hidden in the shadows, but she's out there."

Anderson nodded. "Monitor her and the security team at all times. Hopefully we can trap her and finish her off." He turned to Parisa. "Good luck."

"Thank you, sir." She removed the safety on her AK. "Come on, boys. Let's roll."

The eight soldiers marched off to their destiny as they entered the elevator that would take them down to the game arena. Rodney's mind was filled with a million emotions as he watched them go. What would happen to them? And what would happen to Maitreya?

"Player one ready," came Parisa's voice over the radio.

"Player two ready," came Brandon's voice. One by one, players three through eight also checked in.

Walsh sat at the main control console, with Thomas and Rodney flanking him, and Anderson sitting in a chair behind them. "Elevator at the bottom," reported Walsh. "Ready to unlock the door on your order, sir."

"Do it," said Mr. Anderson. Walsh nodded and pressed a button.

The array of sixteen large video screens in the control room showed various parts of the arena. In addition, eight smaller screens showed body-camera views from each of the players. The four men in the control room watched closely as the eight soldiers stepped into the game zone, fanning out and crouching down, assault rifles at the ready.

"All right." Walsh spoke into his microphone. "She's in the back center area, moving around behind pillar to pillar. You'll have to go through a lot of rooms to get to her."

"Copy," came Parisa's voice over the radio. "Can you see what weapons she has?"

"She looks like she has a bow and arrows slung over her back, and maybe a knife or short sword at her side. It's very dark, hard to tell."

"Just a bow and a knife? We'll take her down easy," said Brandon cockily.

Rodney watched, heart pounding, as the security team made its way deeper into the arena. He then looked up at the screen that showed occasional glimpses of Maitreya, trying to keep the thought out of his mind, the thought that one way or another, someone he liked was going to die...

"Okay, she's on the move," reported Walsh. "Coming straight at you guys. She's three rooms away now. Now two rooms..."

"Spread out," ordered Parisa. "Three men left, three men right, one center with me. Walsh, keep a continuous repor..."

The sixteen large video screens suddenly went black. Then, on one of the body cameras, a projectile, perhaps an arrow, came flying out of the darkness, impaling the wearer. There was a scream, then the camera view moved wildly upward, as if the wearer had fallen on his back. Then it went dark. A second later, all the other body cameras went black as well. Screams and gunfire were heard.

"What the fuck?!" shouted Mr. Thomas

"Get those cameras back online!" ordered Mr. Anderson.

"Trying, sir! Nothing!" Walsh said. "Thomas, Rodney, use every hack you have!" All three men frantically pounded on their keyboards.

"We've still got audio, sir," said Thomas.

"I've got ears. I can hear that," Anderson replied. Over the radio, the screams and gunfire continued.

"Walsh, talk to me!" came Parisa's voice.

"We've lost all visual! Trying to get it back online...fuck, nothing seems to be helping!"

"Shit...where the fuck is she..." Brandon's voice crackled over the radio. Then everything went silent.

"Parisa! Brandon! Are you there?" Walsh shouted. "Fuck, audio's out too now!"

In the arena, the four soldiers who were still alive crouched in a semicircle, weapons pointing outward, waiting. Then came a melodious but chilling female voice:

"I am Maitreya. This is my game."

The soldiers looked at one another. Parisa cursed in her native Persian, then said reluctantly, "Retreat. Three and Seven, go now. Brandon and I will lay down covering fire. Keep trying to reestablish audio contact. Let's at least get out of this one alive."

Back in the control room, although the silence had been for less than a minute, it felt like an eternity. Finally, Walsh reported, "Audio back online. Parisa, talk to me!"

"We're retreating!" came her voice. "Unlock the elevator!"

"Thank God she's still alive. Unlocking elevator now."

A minute later, the elevator doors opened into the control room and Parisa, Brandon, Player Three, and Player Seven walked in. Anderson looked at them, then behind them. "Where are the others?"

"They didn't make it," said Parisa. She shook her head sadly.

"Fuck," Anderson swore. "All right, shut the game down. We'll retrieve the bodies in a minute. Right now, tell me what happened."

"She was so fast," said Player Three in a small voice. "As if she was superhuman...One girl with a bow and arrow defeating eight soldiers with machine guns..."

"All we saw was a brunette blur, when we saw anything at all," added Player Seven. "She did these backflips that were so fast that she could dodge all of our bullets. She was..."

"Parisa, you're the most levelheaded one," Anderson interrupted him. "Please tell me the facts."

"She nailed us right after I heard that the video went out, sir," Parisa began. "The first we saw from her were her arrows. She dropped two guys right away. Then we lost two more, I couldn't even see how she took them out. We were firing, but couldn't acquire a target. I gave the order to retreat. Without visual it would only have been a matter of time before the rest of us were slaughtered."

Anderson nodded. "You did the right thing. I just wish I did the right thing by not sending you down there."

"She'll have to be defeated somehow, sir. And we're soldiers. It's our department," said Parisa. "If only she didn't somehow have a way to knock out our cameras..."

"We'll work on fixing that later," said Anderson. "Right now, let's bring the bodies up."