The main body of the WolfHounds had gone into battle this morning, or perhaps even as early as yesterday if one considered those ghastly cloaked men who acted the part of their dexterous hands.
In the case of the proverbial "head" of the Company, though, they'd been in battle since at least the beginning of the month.
It was only a temporary office space from which they'd conducted the majority of their work, including several previous projects, within the city boundary. Soon to be evacuated once they were certain the end result was far beyond anyone's interference and the last of the equipment could be taken with them back home.
But the atmosphere inside was usually tense, almost dreadful—suffocating—as if they were waiting for the small doors in their room to open to a bigger arena. It would not have been a very unfamiliar feeling to any member who now wore a patch with a shield, a dragon, or a series of green-colored letters on their right shoulder.
Like their Commander, the staff who frequented the building kept late hours—albeit, with a better schedule than the girl's still. There hardly seemed a time when the light switch had actually been turned off, save to reduce light contamination for the 3D model projector.
In the corner of the main office, an accountant-like man with a personality to match his avatar's grayed face sat quietly at his desk. His fingers tapped the air in front of him on an unseeable keyboard, occasionally pinching or swiping as one would with a tablet.
"..."
He could hear voices outside.
He focused briefly to the corner of his vision.
" …All Company leads: switch to text temporarily…Won't be able to listen to net."
Breathing sharply through his nose, the gray man, Takao, closed the document he was working on. In a moment, he wasn't going to be able to focus on this.
The children had come back from their dinners.
He made a series of quick gestures in the air to open a different menu he would need for the same task from earlier—a text log, by the looks of it.
He swiveled his chair around and leaned back, reading the data before his pale blue eyes as the white text blocks floated upward—
[Alpha Coy: Wrong helo. Need bigger. Reconsolidating at «Glass Bank». 2x wheeled armor disabled, recoverable.]
[Bravo Coy: Holding outer cordon. East flank under pressure by Fuller exos. All other flanks—disorganized assaults, hostile players present. Units intact, depleted. Need reinserts soon.]
[PR Com: Packages secured. Egressing. Standby for co-ords.]
—Watching through the transparent menu window for the single door to open as the voices grew louder with proximity.
"—an idiot, Kibaou. I still don't understand how an incompetent like you are an executive here."
"I'm friggin' admin, ya miserable Old Witch! I got no goddamn clue how to do spy shit, are you nuts?"
Pak!
—A dull impact.
The door opened then to reveal the two other executives in the WolfHounds company. Neither had stopped arguing for a moment.
The player named Kibaou was a very different looking incarnation compared to his SAO counterpart, though he still conveyed the same impression.
He was still a rough looking character, even with the bright red hand mark across his face: sharp, narrow eyes that seemed to be set in a permanent glare, enhanced by slim, angular brows that pointed upward. Tall too, significantly so, easily half a head higher or more than his counterpart Rosalia, who was herself a slim and lithe woman. His mouth was thin, usually clenched in tension so that his teeth partially shown in a grimace when he was particularly displeased, which gave him a predatory look that might've reminded one of a shark or perhaps an angry dog.
Takao could not recall if he'd ever seen an expression on Kibaou's face that wasn't either a frown or a frustrated glower, framed by his straight, rust red-colored hair that he let run down to the line below his muscular shoulders.
At the very least, his GGO avatar displayed a significant upgrade in aesthetic taste since his SAO days—or, so Takao had heard.
Even Rosalia had once stated (reluctantly) that he probably would be considered a classic example of a bishonen archetype: "If this idiot never spoke a word out of his empty head."
Rosalia was a character herself.
She was the very image of either a venomous noblewoman or a femme fatale of classic spy fiction. Thin, rose red lips were set below a small, upturned nose and a pair of amethyst purple eyes that seemed to cool to a softer lavender color when she was enjoying herself (usually at someone else's expense), and flash with disdain when she didn't need to put on a character. She was thin, well-groomed, and carried herself with a mountainous confidence that paired well with her current disguise—a practical, but luxurious, green dress meant for traveling, with a blue decorative sash tied around that complemented her waist. Her hair was a fierce, fiery red that shimmered like embers, parted to either side in romantic, wavy curls down to the base of her nape.
She cast a bewitching figure—if not for the fact she also possessed the tongue of a viper, and a personality one might favorably compare to the thorns of a rosebush.
They continued.
"If we get the «sword boy» on, we've got gold on our hands. We have three incidents on record of him getting results out of ridiculous situations, and I'll be damned if we let the boy walk off when we know he's got some sort of interest here."
"You're a greedy bastard, Rosalia." Kibaou ran a hand through his hair. "How the hell're we even supposed ta get him on board? Say we do get in contact with him, an' he doesn't instantly dismiss us two assholes who've tried to kill him 'fore—how in the hell're we supposed to convince Argo? I ain't got a clue if it's some bad grudge or something, but that girl's real stubborn 'bout any mention of him."
"Then who are we recruiting—that princess from the KoB who also hates your guts, Asuna? The KoBs we do have only came on because they worked with Argo's pet project before."
Rosalia clicked her tongue and looked to the side, then recovered herself. "Look, I don't fucking care who you get, and I don't care what you need to do to convince Argo: we just need talent and bodies here—in that priority order. Dig up her old info broker associates in the business, if you have to. The only people we have available who can do small unit ops at any level of proficiency are about 20 guys in the Phantom Rangers who are usually already gone somewhere else, and Argo. That's it. And the girl's already running herself ragged just on the Commander work."
"Shit, if ya've got such a good picture on the issue, then why don't you convince her?"
"Cactus Kid," Rosalia said, using her own insult for her counterpart, "tell me: what is my job title, and what was I doing in SAO to get the attention of both of you?"
The former guild leader of a small-time robbery troupe, with herself as an undercover honeypot. Petty plots…but she was good at it, and she had made for quite the headache for a long while. And nowadays, she was doing the kind of fieldwork that Argo didn't have the time for anymore.
"…Ya have a point." Kibaou admitted.
"Yes. That's right. And I don't have the time to, even if I knew I could do it. The other half of the PRs just got back from the expedition north of the «Black Sea» and I still need to process the debrief on what they found, and right now I need to start the journey to Rome to negotiate safe passage while you guys move on to the next project north of Thessaly.
"I will put this simply, Kibaou." She continued, "The 1st gens and Clearers we have are great—by SAO standard. Not GGO's. They're too dumb for us to use for special tasks. At least with the regular members we can cover their shortcomings with equipment like we are right now, but there is no substitute for talent. And you know as well as I do how screwed that heist op is, as far as bodies go. You find us shooters in the short term; I'll handle the footwork on the manpower problem. Got it?"
Kibaou paused, and glanced at Takao as if for an answer. The gray accountant's expression remained impassive.
He waved Rosalia off and turned. "Sure! Sure. Whatever. Damn… … …if that'll be the case…I think I've got someone in mind we might be able ta get. But, it'll be an outsider."
He snorted at the expression Rosalia gave him when he said 'outsider.' When Rosalia didn't need to play nice, there were times when her look said far more than her words could.
'Outsider,' in their world, meant 'not from SAO.' A true unknown.
"Oi! Don't give me that damn look; you're the one who said we're hard pressed for talent!"
"It better not be a stupid idea."
He shook his head, ignoring the remark. At least she was open to the suggestion. "Nah. I definitely can't get Kirito. But, I think I can try for someone just as good. Maybe better suited, even." He paused as he mulled over the thought longer, considering its plausibility. "It'll be absurd, maybe, but…Keh! I'd still need ta meet with [that person], is the first problem. But they've not been seen in weeks…"
Rosalia started to open her mouth to say something then. But before she could ask, the handle on the worn wooden door behind them creaked open again.
A figure entered.
In walked a girl wearing a light gray jumpsuit with green accents at reinforcing points, keeping with the general uniform color scheme of the company. Like other members, the company patch which depicted the image of a wolfhound facing the side with its fanged mouth open was displayed prominently on her left shoulder. Her right shoulder was different, however. Rather than the symbol of her previous guild, it was replaced instead by a special patch of her own design: a circular patch with an upside down triangle in the middle, with a set of three horizontal slashes on either side.
A simplified depiction of a rat with its whiskers.
"…Commander." Rosalia nodded.
"Ya late." Kibaou said in lieu of greeting.
"Ain't late if I'm the boss, Kibaou." Argo said, plainly. "Just the rest of ya're early."
Takao raised his hand briefly and waved once. Argo favored him with a smile, then turned her attention back to Kibaou.
"AmuSphere got smashed up on the way over. Had ta find an alternate solution." She dug her hand into one of her hip pouches.
Takao, hand still outstretched, caught what the girl named Argo tossed to him. A black packet with a clear plastic wrapping…cigarettes, Kibaou thought, recognizing the design embossed on the item.
He set the gift aside. Takao reached across to the main desk and, retrieving his smoking kit from a decorative silver tray, grabbed something else off of it and tossed it back to the blonde haired girl, which she caught dexterously.
With a bit more flair than necessary, she spun in place as she snatched the brand new pair of «stun knives» out of the air, as if to bleed off the extra momentum of the throw. With a practiced motion that was hard to see, she clipped the knives to the ends of her wrist-mounted «cable reels», deftly spinning them in her hands and catching them as a brief, gunslinger-like display of skill, and sheathing them into their matching scabbards on either side of her belt.
Kibaou's expression furrowed. Her movements were noticeably more…nimble, than normal.
It was almost as if…
"An' did that involve your «other spare»?" He said pointedly. "Ain't seen you move like that in a long ass while."
"VR cafe, Kibaou. Immersion pod." Argo clarified, knowing what he meant by that. "I ain't riskin' that kinda weakness, especially if it turned out I was right about this bein' the same as what we heard about «the other incident»… Honestly! I'm a tad disappointed. Do I seem that reckless to ya?"
"I watched ya crawl through a bombed out villa courtyard with a ton of unexploded mortars stuck in it, just ta blow up one hardpoint in a compound." Kibaou replied, unperturbed. "Between that and what else I've seen ya pull… Ya'd justify it if ya could reason yourself into thinkin' it was necessary."
Kibaou did a once-over on Argo's avatar as he said this.
In appearance, Argo herself was much like that of her executives. Differing significantly from her SAO incarnation, but also resembling her old self in small ways. If one had to describe her simply: it would've been that she looked very much like how she would have if she were just a couple years older than her real world self.
She was taller by a fair bit than the SAO scan of her 14-year old self, though still shorter than Rosalia, reaching about the average height of a young Japanese woman. Her figure was a bit fuller, not by much; still distinctly youthful as would fit a young adult of her stature. Her formerly golden-blonde hair had given way to more of a subdued fawn color, as if it were a consequence of her growing maturity. And, her eyes...
Argo always tended to have more of a sleepier, subdued look to her hazelnut eyes, despite her usual cheeky personality. No doubt a side effect of her work and the hours she kept. But the look had certainly settled itself much deeper in recent times, taking on a greatly harsher character in appearance.
Much like the girl had in her own demeanor.
"Daring isn't the same as foolishness," Argo said, dropping the accent. "Wasted effort burns time. Dying wastes a lot of both of those. And I've never been in the business of spending something to buy nothing."
A deliberate affectation, Kibaou knew—he was from Osaka. To distance herself from…something. But he couldn't begin to guess the reason.
Argo alighted. Plopping herself down, not at the chair for her desk, but lounging back comfortably on the soft black leather couch set against the wall.
"So then, anythin' I miss? Takao."
"PRs have them. They couldn't make the planned extract point. We're waiting for them to stop moving so I can direct one of the available transport helicopters."
Clinical. Like a doctor handing out a diagnosis. Kibaou had no idea where Argo found him, Takao, but he was probably the most executive-like out of their cabal.
Argo said nothing. She gestured for him to continue.
"They're moving along the rail line, so the route will at least be easy to follow by air. Unfortunately, that also means their pursuers are following quite closely too."
"…Is it the usual idiots, or did we get lucky with players this time?"
"It's Black Tower forces."
"Then ain't I glad ya got me a new set of knives." Argo sighed heavily, and got up from the couch. "Tch. Whatever. I've spent enough of the day already sittin' around doin' nothin,' and there's other secondaries I can take anyway."
She took her cloak from the rack. As she was about to throw it over her shoulders and set the clasp on the mantle, she stopped. She gestured to Takao. "Ah, right. Nearly forgot—how's tha' whole vault thing goin'?"
"We need a different helicopter." He said simply.
"Ya. I can guess what happened…" The girl pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "Don't wait on Pelican 1 to fly back in a third time with another new helo for the PRs, that'll take too long when he's already refit for an industrial lift helo for the vault. Pelican 2's in an «Mi-24»—tell 'em to do the package extract instead after the reinserts who died earlier get dropped at «Glass Bank», they're gonna be there anyway for close-air. We can work with a smaller bird. Shame 'bout scuttlin' part of the suits, but those were just a bonus anyway."
Argo glanced up from what she was doing for a moment.
"Rosalia." Argo said at once, before going back to fiddling with the mantle's throat clasp, "I know ya like ta prey on cute girls, but ya starin' a hole into my back. If ya got somethin' to say, say it."
Rosalia shot an aside look in Kibaou's direction with her purple eyes. It was only for a second that their eyes met, but it was in that moment the red-haired woman gave him a knowing wink.
'Rosalia, what in hell's name kinda scheme is a devil like you plannin' to do here.'
"Correct me if I heard wrong, Commander, but did you just say earlier that you're in Tokyo?" Rosalia said, heedless of the jab about the incident that got her arrested.
Argo nodded. "Ya heard right, yea."
"Aha, I see. Same as last time, correct? For company-related work?"
"Errr, sort of." Argo shrugged. "Funny thing actually, that last trip confirmed to me what I already suspected."
"Oho?" Rosalia said, "Do tell."
Feigning ignorance, Kibaou thought. Rosalia knew damn well what she meant by that. She was just trying to get Argo talking.
"It's too hard to do what I want to, if I ain't actually in Tokyo." Argo said at the prompt. "Too damn inconvenient if I want to coordinate offline, either quickly or securely. And if I want to roll the «SAO survivor gacha», most of 'em are already in Tokyo anyway because of that damn school. Can't keep doin' train trips every time I have ta do work offline."
"Aaaah! I see, I see, that makes sense… Excuse me, I'm just surprised about this turn of events. I remember—and I'm sure Kibaou or Takao could attest to this—I remember that you weren't too keen on hovering around the Tokyo area for too long?"
Recognizing his cue there, Kibaou nodded in agreement and said, "Ya, I remember hearin' that too."
"Yes, there we go… Something about the «Virtual Division» and the «SAO school» making you antsy, I think is what you said?"
"Then I just hafta tread lightly, don't I? …Glocken's a dump of a city, but at least it's gotten me practice in that realm." Argo jerked her head to the side as if to punctuate her point. "Even if I don't wanna be at the SAO School, there's advantages to bein' close to the snake nests that bastard, Chrysheight, hangs 'round."
"Ambitious. You sure people aren't going to be afraid of seeing «The Rat» in the same building as them?"
A smirk. "Despite what ya guys see of me, I was quite well liked back in SAO," Argo said with a smug air.
"Ta who?" Kibaou cut in. "The gossip houses and clients who like being bullied?"
"Like the ALF members who sold me the info about ya gettin' your ass outsmarted by a soft-hearted journalist, with the leadership skill of a damp bagel."
Kibaou sighed and Rosalia, visibly suppressing her urge to laugh, took her opening there. "Well in that case, hopefully the Commander will find some of those clients again to see if they're willing to lend a hand, hm? Maybe catch up with some of her old associates, like her friends in the tradecraft? Perhaps enjoy the springtime of her youth."
Argo rolled her eyes, but smiled despite herself. "Yea, sure. I'll let ya know later if I develop a slice of life romcom out there."
Waving them goodbye with a casual two-finger salute, Argo exited the room.
She didn't see it, but Rosalia shot Kibaou a wink after her display of verbal aptitude.
Annoyed though he was, Kibaou resisted the urge to snort in derision for fear of ruining Rosalia's effort, and turned to hide his brief expression of disdain. Just in case Argo decided she forgot something else in the office.
In all honesty, he was relieved that she'd prepared the groundwork here for the recruitment idea instead of him. But as things were, he knew that she couldn't do more than this.
"Be grateful for the help, Kibaou," Rosalia said with an air of self-satisfaction. "Normally I'd have to charge for professional work like that."
"Then ya got poor clientele if ya goin' for idiots like me who wouldn't pay up anyway." He glanced at the door. "…Ya ever hear of a guild leader just…walking off to do her own thing, instead of directing?"
"Do you see why I need you to work hard on poaching talent directly? We're rolling dice if we just leave it to Argo, she's unpredictable at the best of times. Stubborn at worst, for how unorthodox she is."
"—If you ask my opinion," Takao said, all of a sudden, "I don't think the girl's interested in being indoors, whatever the case is." Then getting up from his chair, and like a duke shooing away his servants: "Now, you two. Get out. I need space for this."
Kibaou frowned at the older manʼs curt tone, but nodded anyway.
Rosalia just shrugged, unaffected. "Donʼt mind; I will be away shortly. I've an appointment in scenic 'Italia' that I don't want to be late for, anyway," she said, with a mock curtsy as she turned for the door. "Try not to get everyone killed, won't you «Accountant»?"
Takao said nothing, just waited for the door to shut behind them.
A moment's silence, then he headed for the 3D image projector. The lights dimmed. On the floating screen of his UI he adjusted a few settings, and the hologram expanded around him, filling the room in its entirety.
The gray man, Takao, stared quietly as he studied the images, the glow of soft blue lights reflecting in his pale eyes as he watched the blue dots of his guildmates moving across the city.
—
"Maybe I should've brought a gas mask after all."
Sinon waved the smell away from her nose. She kept her MP7 shouldered with her main hand as she scanned the alleyway. Stepping quickly, but carefully, over debris as she made her way past the scattered firefights she could hear happening all around her.
It was scary going solo into the heart of a hostile urban zone like this where an attack could come from any dark corner. But Sinon remained calm. The «Prediction Circle» pulsated only slightly with her steps, her breathing steady but tense.
It was easy getting into the Industrial District. But moving around unseen was another matter. The city was already horribly dense on a calm day, but now with Contractors and looters swarming all over the place…
As Sinon reached a blind corner leading into the main street she hugged the wall. She peeked around it, shrinking back as a group of armed men sprinted past the mouth of the entrance a few meters away.
Then, having confirmed the coast was clear, she went around wide but quickly past the opening, staying in the darkness of the alleyway and out of the glow of the flames, her finger taking up the trigger slack of her MP7 just in case as she pointed down the alley.
If there was one change to GGO she was grateful for that happened while she was gone, it was the lack of a bright red laser glowing out of her gun muzzle whenever she touched the trigger.
The «Bullet Prediction Lines» had always been a controversial point among players of GGO, especially those who preferred a more standard FPS experience. Not least because it also made several aiming accessories such as rail-mounted «laser aiming modules» and «tracer rounds» effectively redundant, since guns already did what they did by default.
Perhaps it made more sense in competitions like the BoB to give competitors a fighting chance out of an ambush and keep up the tension…not so much out in the field.
Typically, Sinon was more apathetic to such complaints; a lot of what she did centered around the idea she was preparing for the BoB anyway, so Spiegel's rants about it tended to just be radio static to her. And her accuracy rate as a sniper usually made it a non-issue except in the rare case of a high-spec player who could survive long enough to counter her, like Behemoth or Kirito-kun.
Moments like this, though, really highlighted how much of a pain it is when you're trying to stay unseen.
And speaking of radios…
'Didn't the girl say I'd be getting a call soon?'
"Fuuuun…" Sinon breathed a sigh of disappointment…
…and choked back a yelp of surprise as her radio earpiece sprung to life.
[H…llo? Hello? Can you…read… … …signal? Respond.]
Sinon coughed despite not needing to breathe in VR, and keyed her mic.
"You're loud and garbled. Fix your signal." Sinon hissed in as harsh a whisper as she could muster.
Sinon glanced around to see if anyone heard her, pushing down the slight feeling of embarrassment from the sound she made. Then, spotting an open doorway behind her, she moved into the darkened apartment building.
There was more freedom of movement and a wider field of view outside, but it would be easier to move under concealment inside of a building. But, she'd need to be more careful about taking corners and listening for audio cues for close contacts.
'Stairway here…no, I can get shot from both sides if I go down the middle. Maybe…down the hall?'
Tak. Tak.
Her boots made crunching sounds under foot from the gravel and glass fragments, echoing dully through the musty hallways. Tugging at her scarf, she was still wondering if she should've brought a respirator—if for no other reason than the smell.
Sure enough, there was another set of stairs leading to the second floor. She ascended.
It was a while yet before the radio came back on. Though—not with the message she expected.
A woman's voice. [Oh, damn this accursed program—if you can hear me Contractor Sinon, start moving now! Lots of gunmen moving towards your building.]
"…Copy."
Dammit.
Bang!
She could already hear them coming. The footfalls of multiple armed men, the clatter of bags and equipment belts, their shouts.
'Audio contact…directly below me. Doesn't sound like they know I'm here; there's no urgency to move fast to trap me. They must've been running and happened to see the open doorway I came in.'
She tightened her grip, glancing behind her.
'But that's too many for me to fight in here safely. I still have time before they reach my rear flank.'
"Give me a cardinal direction, I can't see what's out there and you guys didn't give me info like you said you would."
[Confirm, that is my fault. It's been hectic here at the…security forces' comms branch. I only just managed to get on the line now. But more info can wait, we should get you out of there first.]
"Un. Sure."
Sinon picked up the pace.
[The layout of these buildings are standardized, so try to head for the exit on the middle rig—no wait. The fire exit, to your direct North. Looks like the contacts downstairs were being pursued, I see another group going up the road trying to find them.]
Sinon glanced at the compass on her HUD; north would be…on the far end of the building.
"Un, got it!"
No more leeway to clear each room carefully as she passed; speed and quick judgment would have to carry her here. Keeping her weapon shouldered and pointed forward, she ran as fast as she could down the hallway while still keeping her gun stable.
They must've heard her by now; military boots on the upper floor of an empty building was a hard sound to mistake.
[Staircase in the middle, closest to the entrance they entered from.]
The door at the end of the hall mirrored the one she used to get to the second floor. The hinges weren't on this side; Sinon broke out into a dead sprint, and planted her boot against the door knob as hard as she could.
The door knob practically exploded out the other end of the admittedly thin, cheaply constructed wooden door, fragments of wood splintering everywhere as the door was flung open. With the enhanced physique of a «Player» that was far beyond what belied her petite frame, Sinon barely even slowed down.
The armed men on the other side flinched in surprise, covering themselves from the fragments. They didn't even have a chance to bring their weapons up.
"Who—?!"
Sinon leveled her MP7 and landed a burst on the gunman closest to her. He crumpled and fell to the floor, trying desperately to roll and scoot away on his hands and back from the source of this sudden, searing pain.
Sinon transitioned to the next target, this time bringing the gun's iron sights up for a properly aimed burst. This time it struck the man's shoulder, barely missing his head; he had turned to run back down the staircase for cover. The rest of the rounds hit the wall, sending concrete fragments flying out in horizontal, puffs of dust and shrapnel.
She clicked her tongue in annoyance, but didn't waste a second. She returned to her first target and planted another burst into the man before he could recover, finishing him off for good.
"ABOVE! ABOVE! THEY'RE KILLING US UP HERE!"
Sinon turned again. Her shots hit true this time; 3 deliberate, aimed puffs of red as her next bullets planted themselves in the man's back and head. He fell the rest of the way down the stairs, like a doll whose strings had been cut.
Thinking fast, Sinon snatched a grenade from the first dead man's equipment vest (not a professional, she noted idly; no armor plates and the grenades were old models), and chucked it down the stairway after the last dead man.
Another thought occurred to her. She ripped the pin out of another grenade—this time chucking it out the window facing the street.
[Reckless girl! What are you…ahh, I see.]
Sinon yanked open the door to the next hallway and slammed it shut.
BOOM! …Boom!
The sequential blasts of the grenades shook the building down to its foundations. Then, she could hear the rapid, dull thumps of gunfire from beyond the door. At first distant, followed by the thumping of bullets impacting the building, including the room she'd been in previously. Then another, much louder torrent of automatic machine gun fire as her building's fellow occupants sent their own reply.
With a self-satisfied smirk, Sinon jogged the rest of the way and exited the fire escape on this end of the building. She didn't lower her guard until she had finally taken cover again in the back room of a neighboring structure, an alley over—an abandoned clothing store by the looks of it.
She breathed and brought up a hand to swipe the dust from her brow. A pop-up notification came up, and she swiped that away too without bothering to read the post-combat results.
[Hm. That should keep those two engaged for a decent while. Clever girl.]
"I've had my share of close calls before." Sinon popped the magazine out of her MP7. "When you're usually working by yourself, you get a feel for how to survive and buy time against bigger groups." She ripped a fresh mag out of one of the pouches she'd mounted on her belt. She replaced the partial mag in the now empty slot.
"So…Any info on those guys I was just shooting it out with and why I should be avoiding them, Sky Eye?"
[Sky Eye?]
The sudden nickname plainly caught her off-guard. Sinon wasn't one for coming up with nicknames—that was more the habit of the other girls, especially Liz. Even her own moniker of «Goddess of the Underworld» wasn't one she chose for herself, and «Sinonon» had been by Asuna-san's insistence.
But the radio operator hadn't given her official radio callsign either. And Sinon couldn't just call her something as rude as "You" the whole time, especially since it sounded like a more mature lady than the Lieutenant or herself were. So…
"Well…you can see what's going on down here in a dark district with—what I'm guessing is—a GDF satellite camera. And you gave me good directions about threats and where to go back there. Like you have an eye in the sky. So, Sky Eye."
A moment of silence. […Hm! Then Sky Eye it is, Contractor Sinon.] She could hear the laughter in her voice. It wasn't Sinon's intent, but it seemed she liked the name anyway.
Though now, she was seriously beginning to wonder how many weirdos there really are on GGO, and feeling more than a little thankful that her icy reputation seemed to have kept a lot of them away from her. She sighed and just decided to accept things like this as they were; she was way too tired to be mulling over stuff that didn't involve shooting things.
[We can walk and talk. First head to the end of the block continuing northbound. There should be a partially exposed sewer tunnel, we will use that to maneuver eastbound under cover as far as we can out of that red zone on the heat map, and then continue to the compound above ground. How copy?]
"…" Sinon made another note to at least pack a half-mask respirator and some filters in her field gear, from now on. "…Un, okay. What're the overland routes like, first?"
[Awful. But they're the worst where you're at. Far too active for me to guide you safely without engagements. Those Contractors on the highway you just chucked a grenade at, the WolfHounds, are attracting every gun and gang with a grudge against them like moths to an open flame.]
As if on cue, Sinon heard and felt the concussion of multiple explosives going off from the direction she'd left. Smaller than a tank; they were too rapid and not loud enough. But definitely not a regular machine gun, either.
"…They have ordnance on that road?" Sinon swiped down her fingers, recognizing the steady rhythm of what was undoubtedly a vehicle-mounted weapon.
[Yes, but stay your trigger finger there. The Wolves are not priority targets. With me guiding you, you won't need to engage them.]
"Sky Eye, I've rarely met a player—much less a PMC—who wouldn't shoot another in the back when given the chance."
[They don't need to know you're there.]
"…" She huffed. "…Fine." Sinon swiped her fingers to dismiss the menu. She didn't like it, but she also couldn't deny that she was in a bad position to be punching .50 cals into anything that wasnʼt directly in front of her. And Sky Eye undoubtedly had a better idea of what the situation down here was than even she did.
But one detail still kept nagging at her.
"And who are these WolfHounds you mentioned, anyway?" It wasn't a name she recognized.
With Players, names would get spread around if you were particularly skilled. As a shooter, as a marksman, as a craftsman, a dungeon raider, or even an information broker—if you were a noteworthy person, whether you liked it or not, you were going to get attention. Much to Sinon's own annoyance; she didn't sign up to be an idol, as she once put it.
Same went for GGO's «Companies», or guilds as they'd be called in more conventional MMOs. The only difference in public recognition between guilds and individuals were the scale they operated on, respectively.
'So why haven't I heard a whisper about the WolfHounds before?'
It didn't make any sense. If they were big enough to be running fully armored combat vehicles, much less jeeps, how the hell had they escaped her notice? Just that alone would have meant that she would've eventually encountered them on the field at some point, by virtue alone of her being one of the only snipers available with the skill and equipment to threaten such vehicles without the need for bulky AT rockets.
But…
[That depends. How detailed do you want the explanation?]
"Not detailed enough to justify worsening the headache that I already have."
…she was also really too tired to care. Hell, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to comprehend an explanation anyway, when half her attention was on trying not to die right now.
"Just…after the mission Sky Eye, just send me a file with a table of contents. I just got back from killing a bunch of giants and falling out of a castle made out of ice; this won't be the only event where I'm going to need to reread the lore tomorrow to make sense of what I saw today."
[…Excuse me, Contractor-san. But what the hell are you talking about?]
"It's nothing. Nevermind. Thinking aloud."
The tunnel was before her now, partially exposed and jutting out of the road where an explosive had stripped the concrete and metal shell hiding it below the lower roadway. Sinon flicked on her MP7's weapon light. The dark expanse was illuminated instantly by a blinding white beam of 1000 lumens, stopped only by the opacity of the murky water below.
'Big enough to maneuver a vehicle through, probably for maintenance…which evidently never happened, considering all the tarps and shacks I'm seeing. No decent hard cover, I'd have to crouch behind pipes. Water on the ground. Noise will echo down the whole tube. I might keep the light on, I'm getting shredded anyway if someone finds me down here and I'd rather be able to see where I'm going.'
Sinon dropped down into the abyss.
—
[Entering Area: «Underground Encampment»]
"Peh! Peh!" Sinon spat to the side. Some of the sewer water had splashed up and into her mouth when she landed.
She groaned in dissatisfaction. "…Uwaaaaa…"
It didn't really matter or taste like anything; just like regular water. But, even if it was a VR world, it still felt gross to her.
She wrapped the scarf around her a second time, grabbing the muffler by the tails and tightening them against her face as an impromptu filter.
[I'll see you on the other side, Contractor-san. I'll keep an eye on things topside while you're down there, I'll let you know if anything big happens or if someone ingresses at the same entrance. And remember: I'm always available if you need to ask a question.]
Sinon spoke to the air. "Sure. Keep me updated."
She kept her eyes up, scanning her surroundings.
Less a mere camp, this area was more like a small, underground town.
Makeshift shelters lined the whole tunnel, then scattered towards the middle in a disordered tangle of claimed plots; but, never without a clear path to maneuver forward. Some of the structures looked to be more for long-term use. Patchwork, but sturdy affairs, made from scrap metal plates, pieces of aging wood, and salvage from abandoned or destroyed vehicles. They were old too, if the rust and algae buildup at the waterline were any indication. Some even had a second story built on—where there was room and the guts to even attempt such a thing.
Somewhere up ahead (Sinon couldn't see where exactly) she could even see the familiar glow of neon lights.
Contrasting were smaller, newer looking structures. These were gathered around the larger, more sophisticated buildings. Some were built similarly to the parent buildings, with wooden or metal walls either lashed or directly welded onto them, like an add-on unit; but most were little more than tarps spread over a series of poles as the roof and the walls, barely qualifying as homemade tents, always built directly against the side of the larger parent building to save the effort of the inhabitants fashioning a fourth wall themselves.
Palettes for cargo combined with planks to form duckboards for the residents to walk on without dipping into the water. The nicer (and better built) portions of the walkway looked like they used materials stolen straight from a construction site somewhere, rather than salvage.
Ordinary, but old, light bulbs and decorative lights were strung up all over the place or hung by wires to give the area some (poor) illumination to see by—in addition to the ones the city had installed directly into the tunnel for the maintenance personnel who didn't exist. Where it was possible, the bulbs were installed into sturdier wooden poles or onto the side of buildings, with proper dome-shaped reflectors to direct the light downward.
Sinon was already facing east according to the HUD, so it should be a straight shot to the exit. Well, as long as the underground sewer network here didn't adhere too much to the labyrinthine design of traditional dungeons.
But…
"Hey…over there… Is that…?"
"Shhh! Don't look at her."
"Damn contractors. If only I had…"
Meanwhile, hostile gazes were being fixed on her. It was an uncomfortable feeling, one Sinon had become intimately familiar with. And not just in GGO.
Wary, hateful…but, above all else—fearful.
"Shut your mouth before she hears, idiot! …If you want to die, leave us out of it…"
They were hostile, for certain. But that was all. She'd felt the same with other Players, too.
'And even in the outside world…it's really no different. Is it?'
Misguided grudges, and fearful mutterings. An uncomfortable atmosphere…but, no killing intent.
Without killing intent, they might as well have been scenery dressing to her.
Sinon moved in a low ready stance, her boots stirring and splashing the murky, ankle-high water wherever the walkway failed. If those unpleasant stares they shot at her all at once had been bullets instead—shotgun shells, rifle rounds, even pistols—perhaps they might've gotten her. But not a soul dared try their luck.
The gazes didn't go away; the gathered audience stayed in their places in their shacks, their chairs, and their elevated walkways as if rooted there. Watching the rifleless sniper tread forth and past them with her pistol-sized carbine.
She moved at a cautious, but steady, pace forward. Her heart rate slightly elevated as if she were on a light jog through the park. The boards creaked wetly underneath her bootfalls.
"…You never did tell me who these irregulars are when I asked, by the way." She muttered into the mic.
[There wouldnʼt be much to tell even if you ask. And much of what I can say would be the obvious story.] Sinon could hear the dismissiveness in Sky Eye's voice. [Poorly equipped and unarmored militia, and you could probably take them with just the Glock you have riding in your holster. The more aggressive and rough ones are gangers. The nicer ones are a gamble. And generally, they're all suspicious at the sight of any of you Players approaching—but you probably have no need for me to tell you that.]
"They don't exactly hide it, yeah."
BANG!
Sinon fixed her sights on the door of a shack as they were thrown open, expecting a fight. An old man stepped out, disheveled and visibly intoxicated. Yelling something at Sinon that she couldn't quite understand. A younger pair soon followed out the door, a man and a woman both, hurriedly trying to shove the elder back inside. He resisted, and all the while they cast mixed glances in Sinon's direction, before slamming the door behind them once more.
Sinon side-stepped a little further with her gun still trained on the door, then relaxed when she confirmed that was the end of that.
"Are they hostile? …Actually, wrong question—do I have to worry about the NPCs here shooting me?"
[The ones down there should be mostly civilians hiding from the chaos. So those ones won't, at least.]
"Sky Eye," Sinon said, "there's only one of me here and none of these people are registering as friendly or enemy on my HUD. An old man and his caretakers right now are lucky that I didn't give them what was in the mag."
[Contractor-san] the voice on the radio adopted a more conciliatory tone [the Lieutenant recognized who you were without an introduction. Even if they don't know who you are exactly they'll know a Contractor when they see one, and you're all terrifying mercenaries in their eyes. Understood?]
Sinon didn't respond to that, still tense as she stalked through what counted as the "street" in the underground village. There were a LOT of people crammed down here, or at least more than she would've expected for such an…"unwelcoming" environment. Not many angles to be shot from, only what she saw in front and behind her; but that also meant less places for her to hide or take cover if it came to it.
Sky Eye must've taken her silence, correctly, as anxiety.
[I don't give bad information, Contractor-san. I may not be able to see what's down there, but I have enough intel about what the conditions are like. Most of their fighters are going to be above ground engaging a known threat like the GDF or the PMCs, and anyone down here is going to be either the wounded and dying, or gate guards. Just avoid anyone with a gun and low-tier equipment who doesn't have a blue or green dot on your HUD. Do you copy?]
"Roger that."
To tell the truth, she was put a little at ease by Sky Eye's words. Not entirely, of course; the uncertainty still gnawed at her. But she was confident whatever she encountered, she had the tools to deal with it.
Throom! Throom Throom!
'…!'
Gunshots.
"Sky Eye, I'm hearing gunfire down here."
[Gunfire? Strange. That location shouldn't have been found out yet. Could be practice shots?]
"I'm hearing screams and there are people running from the direction those came from." Sinon dipped behind a shack for concealment from the incoming runners. She peeked her head around the corner, trying to find the cause, keeping her MP7 in hand but out of sight just in case.
[Roger, standby. I'll try to see if I can ping off any personal interfaces down there.]
"I can't see anything from here…Only one set of shots—no, they're still firing. Doesn't sound like a rifle or pistol, it has the thumping report of a shotgun. Whoever's down here came in knowing they'd have to do close work."
And there was one more detail that bothered her. There was only one recognizable muzzle report. No return fire from different guns.
So either the security forces just killed off a lone invader. Or…
Sinon felt around to the small of her back, and snapped the selector switch on her Glock 18 to the «auto» position.
"I think I'm about to encounter a close range expert in a tunnel."
[—]
Glossary:
"Coy": Shorthand for "company." Or at least, it's supposed to be; I've seen both "coy" or "co" as abbreviations, but the added "-y" seemed like it'd make it more obvious.
"Com": Here I use it as a substitute for "command" or "commando."
Close-air: Shortened from "close air support." Wherein aerial elements provide support, typically of the explosive ordnance variety, for ground units.
Mi-24: A Russian gunship helicopter, with provisions for limited troop transport capability. Otherwise known by its more famous NATO name "Hind." Due to its high production numbers, overall good performance, and long list of adopted countries, the Hind is a relatively common military helicopter to encounter.
A/N: This was supposed to have another section, but as I was writing it got way longer than I had planned. So I'm moving the rest into chapter 5 instead.
Concerning Argo's avatar here, I was trying to go for something similar to Kirito's first ALO avatar, and how Shino noted how Sinon looks similar to herself. Where the avatar is generally similar to their IRL appearance, but you wouldn't make the connection unless you knew who was behind the avatar.
As much as I am trying very hard to keep things mostly canon-compliant, the «Prediction Lines» was not something I could keep as a game mechanic without it interfering majorly with how I would want gunfights to flow. The reasons are pretty much outlined explicitly in-story where it's mentioned.
The «Prediction Circle» was fine, since it functions identically to crosshairs as an abstraction for representing variable factors in accuracy.