Anderson, Carrington, Walsh, Thomas, and Rodney, along with the four surviving soldiers, stood in the examining room. The four dead security men were laid out on tables.
"Player Four. Took a longbow arrow to the center of his chest, pierced his heart," reported Dr. Carrington. "Went right through his body armor. A normal woman can't draw back a bow that powerful. Hell, a normal man can't draw a bow like that."
"Player Five took an arrow to the head. Player Six's throat was cut by a very sharp blade. And Player Eight, he has this neat red hole in the center of his forehead. It looks like a bullet hole, but there's no exit wound and no trace of a bullet inside him, not even any fragments."
Parisa stepped forward, examining Player Eight's corpse closely. "Looks like she kicked him in the head with the stiletto heels she was wearing. That would explain the wound. I did that once to a guy who tried to attack me in a deserted street as I was coming home from a bar. Left a hole just like that." Rodney got an erection when he heard that.
"So what do we do now?" asked Walsh.
"We could destroy the whole game," suggested Carrington. "That's the only way I see to destroy her."
"Destroy the game?!" Thomas looked outraged at the idea. "Easy for you to say, Doc. That game's not YOUR life's work."
"Our whole company is riding on that game," said Anderson. "If we destroy it, we destroy all of our livelihoods. No, that's only an absolute last resort."
"I want to lead a team back down there." Parisa ran her fingers through her long black hair. "I don't like leaving a job unfinished."
"We'll need more men," Brandon said. "There's only four of us left. I have connections with my mercenary buddies that I can..."
Anderson shook his head. "I'm not bringing more lambs to the slaughter. The fewer outsiders that are involved, the better. Looking back, even letting those three guys test the game was a mistake. We should have used only internal people as testers."
"Defeating Maitreya will be a matter of brains, not brute force," Rodney agreed.
"Yes," said Parisa, looking at him. "We just need to make sure she can't suddenly blind us again."
"Walsh, Thomas, Rodney." Anderson turned to the three men. "That's your department. Can you find out how she's interfering with our audio and video feeds?"
"I think so, sir," Walsh answered. "We have a good baseline to start with, from the code I used to restore the audio. If we take it from there we should be able to get to the source."
"Good. Get to work. Let me know when you have something."
ONE HOUR LATER
The phone rang in Mr. Anderson's large office. He snatched it up. "Tell me good news."
"You have a solution? Great. If you want, get some coffee now, because you probably won't have the chance for a while after this. I'll round up the security team and meet you in the control room in ten minutes."
In the break room, Rodney filled a cup from the water cooler, poured the contents over his face, then refilled the cup to have a drink. Walsh and Thomas had already taken their coffee back to the control room.
He heard bootsteps behind him. Turning around, he saw Parisa standing there. "Rodney, may I have a word with you, please?" She seated herself at one of the tables, motioning for him to join her.
"S...sure, Parisa." He walked over to her, intimidated by her beauty and her muscles, and sat down at the table across from her. "What's going on?"
"Maitreya introduced herself to us while we were down there. While the audio was out. There was no audio with the first video we watched, and none of us mentioned her name. But you did. Where exactly did you learn it?"
Rodney's already pale face went even whiter. He felt something in his trousers and hoped he had merely sat on an apple pie, but knew that he hadn't. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"Rodney, look at me. You created her, didn't you."
Tears appeared in his eyes. "Yes," he confessed. "But I never meant for things to turn out this way!" He told her the whole story of his desire to create his own characters and how he had grown more and more connected with Maitreya. "I don't know how she jumped into the other game! And I don't know how she gained the ability to kill for real...Oh, God, what have I done?"
"Shh. It's not your fault. You couldn't have known that this would happen."
"Are you going to tell the others?"
Parisa shook her head. "No. I like you and want you to stay alive. If I told them, some of them would probably want to kill you. Especially Brandon, knowing his personality." Rodney gulped when he heard that.
She placed her large brown hand over his small pale one. "Don't worry. I'll keep your secret. I just wanted to know the truth." She looked at her watch. "We'd better get back. There are some clean pants and underwear in the locker room."
"How did you know...Is that your sixth sense..."
"No, just the regular old fifth sense. The smell."
"Oh." Rodney blushed in embarrassment.
She giggled. "Don't worry. You're not the first guy I've done that to. Go on and change. I'll cover for you to Walsh and Thomas in case they ask what's up."
"Thank you, Miss Parisa."
IN THE CONTROL ROOM
"So we discovered that this Maitreya chick, as she calls herself according to Parisa, was able to tap directly into the controls from inside the game," Mr. Walsh explained. "The good news is we've found a way to lock her out of that."
"And what's the bad news?" asked Mr. Anderson.
"We can't do it from here in the control room. We can only override her from inside the game. There are electronic access ports at various places in the arena. She must have figured out how to tap into them. But I've written a code that will lock her out."
"She's very adaptable. She could find a way to get around it..." said Mr. Thomas.
"Perhaps. But it would take her a while. If we take her down quickly we won't have to worry about that."
"Then that's what we'll do," declared Parisa firmly.
"Right," agreed Anderson. "Walsh, you and Rodney will accompany the four members of the security team into the game. Thomas, you and I will monitor things from the control room."
Brandon frowned. "I'm not sure it's a good idea for the computer guys to go in. It takes a certain mental and physical toughness..."
"We're all a team here, and every man and woman has his or her job," Anderson cut him off. "You worry about your job and let them worry about theirs. Arena team, gear up. Let's get this shit over with."
IN THE READY ROOM
Rodney stood still as Parisa placed the body armor on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mr. Walsh and the rest of the men getting their gear on as well.
"How are you feeling?" Parisa made one last adjustment on his armor and looked into his eyes. At 5'8", she was two inches taller than him and looking slightly downward.
"Scared as fuck," admitted Rodney in a small voice. Although he was indeed terrified, he was also strangely excited. Not only was he going into battle alongside sexy Parisa, he was finally going to see sexy Maitreya in the flesh. His creation. Who knows, perhaps he could even somehow convince her to stop killing...
"As anyone should be," Parisa responded. "Including me."
"You? You seem fearless..."
"Unlike Maitreya, I'm only human. I have fears too. I'm just good at controlling and hiding them." She gave him a pat on the back.
The soldiers readied their assault rifles, sidearms, and knives. Although the trained security personnel were to handle the fighting, Rodney and Walsh were each given a pistol for emergencies. Parisa quickly instructed them on how to use their weapons. "These are .45 calibers, which have a pretty strong kick," she warned them. "Don't try to shoot them one-handed like you may have seen me do, my wrists are a lot stronger than yours. And I hope this goes without saying but please don't do the sideways gangsta style."
The six of them, ready to go, made their way towards the elevator. In the control room, Mr. Anderson and Mr. Thomas wished them good luck. As the elevator made its way downward, Rodney took a deep breath, on his way to his date with destiny...
