Sinner's Run

To his surprise, Noah slept well that night, sheer mental and physical exhaustion making him dead to the world as soon as his head hit the pillow in his freshly furnished room. The furniture having just

appeared

in the space hadn't phased him at all. Nothing could, after actually dying and coming back to life. He sat up, put his head in his hands, and realized that he might have to go through that whole horrid thing again.

The tablet on his nightstand beeped. He grabbed it and tapped the screen, holding it up to see more clearly. The words "Today's Game" appeared in bold at the top, and underneath that were the words "Squads of Two." Below that was a list of everyone in the Barracks that would be competing, arranged into pairs. Noah's eyes went down the list until they found his own name.

Team Twenty: Noah Welkin, Experiment 32.

Noah did a double take to make sure he wasn't misreading it. He had to hit the Run with the creepy blood-bending mutant? Well, at least she wasn't openly hostile towards him like Nala was after his mishap the day before. She was just aloof and seemed to disdain everyone equally. He could deal with that. And he wouldn't have to deal with being on the business end of her Hemo Missiles. "Silver linings," he muttered.

Below the team listings was a countdown timer to the start of the game. He still had two hours to go. Noah tapped his knee. What could he do to kill time until then?

His growling stomach gave him the answer.

There's got to be a commissary or something here.

Noah put on some plain gray clothes - shirt, pants, and slip-on shoes - from his new wardrobe and padded out of his room. The hallway outside was deserted. Noah took a left and walked into the Atrium. Nobody else was there yet, not with two hours to go until Game time.

"Gooooood morning!"

A wiry weight crashed into his back, bowling him over. Noah rolled over. "Is this the default way you greet everyone?" he wheezed up at Fidget.

"Just the people I like!" she chirped. She leaned down over him, her vibrant blue hair spilling down her shoulder like a waterfall.

The memory of her face from the day before flickered through his mind, how she'd had no hesitation about shooting at him. Now she was acting like it had never happened and saying that she

liked

him?

Larka was right, everyone here

is

a little messed up.

"I'm flattered," he said.

Fidget sprang off him and let him up. "I saw the roster for the Game today. You lucky thing you, you got Miss Time of the Month."

Noah did a double take. "Miss who what now?"

Fidget did her best scowl, folding her arms and jutting out her bottom lip. "Grr, I'm surly and not fun and I have a thing for blood." She patted his chest. "Be sure to not catch a case of her sourpuss, you're too cute for it!"

"I, uh, thanks."

She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Were you off to see the Tailor like I told you yesterday?"

Noah shook his head. "I was looking for food, actually."

"Oh, the Commissary is right next to the Tailor. Come on!" She took his hand and led him across the Atrium, and Noah was almost knocked off balance. Fidget was deceptively strong, and it felt like he was being dragged along by a big, eager dog on a leash.

Fidget led him down the unmarked hallway next to the A hallway. She showed him to the first door on the left, and it slid open to admit them. Inside was a small room with a few tables and half a dozen large machines on the opposite wall. Larka was already there, and she raised her head as they entered. "Well met, young friends," she said in a sleepy voice. She winked at Noah, and he felt his face redden a little.

"Come on, these things are so cool!" Fidget dragged Noah over to the large machines on the wall They had a touchscreen on the front, next to a door and a small shelf. "Because there's so many different kinds of people here who need to eat a lot of different things, it's much simpler to have matter replicators that can just make whatever you need!"

Noah looked the intimidating machine up and down. "You're going to have to explain that one to me."

"Better yet, I'll show you!" Fidget stepped up to the machine with a flourish and pressed a section of the screen. An audio waveform appeared. "Eggs and bacon!" she declared, the waveform jumping with each syllable. "Oh! Arranged in the shape of a smiley face!"

The waveform on the screen disappeared. A hissing noise sounded from within the machine, and a moment later the small door on the front of the machine opened. From a conveyor belt inside, a plate slid onto the shelf outside the door. On it were two over-easy eggs and two strips of bacon, curved into a facsimile of a happy face. Fidget took it and held it up under Noah's nose. The smell that wafted up was

heavenly.

"See!" Fidget said, taking one of the bacon strips and chomping down energetically. "Easy!"

"That's insane," Noah said, looking from the plate to the machine. "Star Trek, eat your heart out."

"I have no idea what that is!" Fidget said. She tapped the screen. "Here, give it a try!"

The audio waveform appeared again. "Uh, the same thing?" Noah said.

To both his and Fidget's surprise, that actually worked, and a moment later the machine produced another plate of smiley bacon and eggs. Noah pinched a bacon strip between his fingers, wolfing it down straight off the plate. If it wasn't pork, he couldn't tell the difference. The strip was thick with that perfect touch of fat, cooked a little crispier than he preferred it, but still demanding to be scarfed. "Shit, that's good."

"Right!" Fidget reached into a small bin on the side and pulled out an honest-to-God spork. "Come on, let's go say hi to Larka."

"You already said hello to me, dear," Larka said.

"Well...hi again!"

They sat down next to the big fraskarian, and Fidget immediately began talking Larka's ear off. Noah wolfed down his food - he hadn't realized how hungry he was until the moment food was in his mouth. The second strip of bacon was just as good as the first, and the eggs were warm with just a pinch of salt. At least he wouldn't have to worry about going hungry while he was here. He'd done well enough for himself with food living on his own, even if he liked to pop back over to his parents for an occasional meal here and there.

The thought of his mother and father made him pause, the last bite of egg halfway to his mouth. What if he couldn't get out of here? He would never see them again. Sure, he'd moved out almost a year prior, but his parents were an hour's drive away in the next city. Did they even know he was missing yet? Did they think he was dead?

Noah's throat constricted, and he suddenly felt sick. Slowly he put his spork down, trying to swallow past a lump in his throat that had nothing to do with food.

It's always when you don't know if you'll get something back when you miss it the most,

he thought.

Oh God, I'm turning into one of those self-important writers I had to read in high school.

Further introspection was forestalled by the noisy arrival of Quirrel, who clomped into the Commissary far louder than was necessary. "Who the fuck's got the balls to team me up with somebody else?" he muttered, stomping over to the machines. A few moments later, Experiment 32 slunk into the room behind him, her crimson eyes flicking around before settling on Noah.

"Who's the loudmouth's partner again?" Larka muttered into the mug she held in one large paw.

"The Pontiff, I think," Fidget answered through a mouthful of over-easy eggs.

Experiment 32 sidled over to their table next to Noah. "We're partners today," she said.

Noah looked up at her, trying not to let his trepidation about her show on his face. "I saw," he said.

Her eyes studied him. "Please tell me that's not what you're wearing onto the Run."

"He's most certainly not!" Fidget said, leaning over Noah and jabbing a finger at 32. "I'm taking him to the Tailor today so he'll look awesome." She glared at the other woman. "Much more fabulous than

you.

" Her finger slowly closed the distance to poke 32 in the chest.

32 looked down at the finger. Then she smiled - or, to be more precise, the corners of her mouth turned up about an eighth of an inch. "He's welcome to try," she said, before gently pushing Fidget's arm aside. "I'll see you in the Atrium, Noah."

"Y-yeah," Noah answered. "You too."

32 nodded to Larka, who answered the gesture by raising her mug. 32 turned and left, and when she was out of earshot, Fidget whispered, "I think that's the most words I've heard her speak at once since she got here."

"You certainly have charming sensibilities," Larka mused.

"I wouldn't go that far," Noah said. His eyes followed 32's willowy figure as she left the Commissary.

After they ate, Fidget dragged him out of the Commissary to the next room down the hall. This one was about the same size, but instead of the tables had a large circular dias on the floor, attended by a thin, wiry robot with some wear and tear showing on its plating. "Greetings," it droned in a monotone voice. "What can I assist you with today, Prime Fidget?"

"Oh, not me, Tailorbot!" she said, patting Noah on the chest. "I'm here to get Welkin in a new look so he looks snazzy on the Run and makes all the fangirls squeal! Or fanboys, if that's what he's into!"

"Splendid," the Tailorbot said. "Step onto the dias, Prime Welkin."

"Uh, alright." Noah did as he was told. The material under his feet was smooth like sandblasted glass, though if he turned his head a certain way he could see the jumbled machinery underneath it.

"What kind of look do you desire?" the Tailorbot warbled.

Noah looked to Fidget. "Any ideas?"

"Nuh uh, no cheating!" she said, folding her arms. "This is your time to shine like the magnificent peacock that you are! Or maybe you're a raven! Or an eagle!"

Okay then, very helpful.

Noah turned to the Tailor, trying to think of a look that fit the aesthetic of the game. Obviously he needed something that would be conducive to fighting on the Run. For as out there as some of the cosmetic skins for the Primes could be, most of them were at a bare minimum reasonable outfits to fight in. There was no reason to go for bulky armor, since the actual effective armor he needed had to be picked up on the Run. Noah decided comfortable was best.

"I'll take a shirt," he said to the Tailor. "Short, no, long-sleeved to about here." He tapped his wrist, about an inch below his palm. "Give it a camouflage pattern?"

The Tailor moved to a small terminal attached to the dias he stood on. His arms extended and plugged into sockets on the terminal, like R2-D2 interfacing with the Death Star. "Hold still, please."

Noah felt an electric current run along his skin. It tickled, and he struggled to remain still as the shirt around him began to change. The color changed from drab gray to a dark, muted earthy camouflage pattern. The sleeves grew more fibers before his eyes, the material flowing down his arms before tapering off at his wrists.

"That's so cool," he breathed.

Fidget clapped. "Right? Pants next!"

Noah patted the material on his thighs. "Make these the same color? And add a little padding around the knees maybe?"

A few moments later, the pants fit much better than they had before, and Noah squeezed the extra fabric on the thighs between his fingers. Now if he fell on his knees or ass he wouldn't rip right through the garments. "Boots too," Noah said. "Thick soles. And comfy socks!"

He lifted off the ground another half inch as his plain slip-ons became black combat boots. Noah turned in place, sizing himself up. "I could spend all day in here just messing around with stuff," he said.

"Believe me, I have!" Fidget chirped. "You can create some crazy outfits in here!"

"Doesn't that kill your tactical advantage though?" Noah asked, stepping off the dias in his new duds. "Like if you were wearing something bright pink someone like Montana could see you coming from a mile away."

She tapped him on the forehead. "Silly, Monty would know you're coming no matter what you're wearing, she's just that good!"

Noah grimaced. "Okay, bad example."

"No, I get what you're saying! I just like to look my best while I'm out there!" Fidget bounced on the balls of her feet. "Even if it means I stick out like a sore thumb, everyone notices sore thumbs!"

"I never have."

"Well then you're not looking hard enough!"

Noah closed his eyes. Fidget's exuberance was charming on one hand, off-putting on the other. "How much time do we have before the Game?" he asked.

Fidget pulled a small cell phone-looking device from her pocket and checked. "Twenty minutes! Which means we should probably just head to the Atrium to meet up with our partners. I have Abbess today." She shuddered. "She's really nice, but she still kinda weirds me out a lot, you know? Never see her without that face cover." Fidget put her hands over her face as they walked out of the Tailor's room, promptly veering off-course and walking smack into the wall with a squeak.

"None of her outfits are without it," Noah said. "It's a deliberate-" He stopped himself before he could say "design choice." To Fidget, this was all real, not some artificially constructed reality.

"I know, right?" Fidget said, rubbing her nose as she walked beside him into the Atrium. "Speaking of which! I'll see you down there!"

Fidget broke away from him, skipping across the Atrium to where the Abbess stood. The mostly silent priestess had her hands folded and head bowed, the dark cloth veil hiding her eyes from view. She turned her head to acknowledge Fidget, then looked past her to where Noah stood watching. Despite her eyes being blocked from view, Noah felt like they were boring into his soul. He offered a half-hearted wave, and got nothing response.

He was saved by Experiment 32 slinking into the room from the E Hallway. She'd donned a dark jumpsuit that was padded around the shoulders, hips, and thighs. It was very plain and default, the only personal touch being two scraps of red cloth tied around her wrists. She moved over to him with careful, deliberate strides. "Ready?" she asked.

Noah tried not to let his nerves show on his face. He was about to potentially die again. How do you get ready for something like that? "Oh, yeah, sure. Totally."

Her cold eyes narrowed a fraction. But she said nothing, simply dropped into a sitting position and closed her eyes. Did 32 meditate?

Noah looked around the Atrium at the teams. Fidget was chattering away to the Abbess, who seemed to be politely but firmly ignoring the exuberant mechanic. Across the room, Archangel and Quirrel were sitting together but looking in opposite directions.

Seems like they're on two different pages,

Noah thought.

His eyes slid over to Larka's large white bulk. The fraskarian was doing last-minute checks on her shield equipment. Next to her stood Nala, who was glaring...right at him. The in and out flexing of her claws left little doubt as to what was on her mind. He quickly looked away from the hostile kaldar, desperately hoping she'd be among the first eliminated. If she survived the opening scramble, there was little doubt that she'd make it her mission to hunt him down specifically.

"Ready yourselves, Primes," the Voice said from the loudspeakers. "The Game begins in sixty seconds."

That mood swing went through the room again, everyone straightening up and fidgeting as the countdown clock ticked down. Noah looked back at Larka and Nala. Larka met his gaze and gave him a respectful nod. Nala glowered at him, pointing two fingers at her eyes, turning them to him, then punching one fist into the opposite hand.

Awesome.

Noah looked down at his partner. 32 hadn't risen from her cross-legged position on the floor. He reached a hand down and jostled her shoulder. "Hey," he said. "It's starting soon."

32 made a snorting noise, jerking up straighter. "Right, right."

Had she been

asleep?

Noah barely had time to process the thought before that weightless sensation came over him and he was blinded by a flash of light. A moment later, he slammed into the roller coaster-like dropship seat, fingers tight around the harness holding him in place. Next to him sat 32, who blinked a few times before settling into the seat.

The Voice counted down from ten, and as soon as it hit zero teams starting dropping out of the ship one after the other. Noah looked at his partner. "Where do you want to go?" he asked her.

32 inclined her head up to the map on the ceiling above them, showing their approach vector. They were coming from the east, tracking west over the expanse of the Run. On this particular route they'd pass right over the Annex in the center of the map, with the last possible drop point being the clearing outside Research on the westmost point of the island. Very few people ever sent to Research, as it was notorious for almost always getting the low-tier loot roll from the game's randomizer.

"Let's go to Research," 32 said, pointing to the facility on the map.

Noah wasn't about to argue with her after seeing how scary she could be on the battlefield. Low-tier loot it was then.

They were the very last pair to drop, and as they did, Noah found that the third drop was far easier than the first two. He was able to tamp down his panic enough to actually look around to see the black afterburner trails left by the dropping teams. It looked like the closest squad to them had dropped all the way over by the Farm, a fair walk to the northeast. "Looks like we'll have some quiet for a while!" he yelled to 32 over the rush of the wind.

"That's what I was hoping for," she replied, her voice never wavering from the even tone it always had.

Noah picked up his legs as they neared the ground. The new boots from the Tailor absorbed the impact much better than the black grunt armor had, and this time Noah's legs were jelly-like for only about ten seconds as opposed to thirty. Still, 32 was already off like a shot, making a beeline for the Research building. Noah heaved a sigh and took off after her, resolving to ask Fidget next time he saw her if there was some kind of training facility in the Barracks he could use. His cardio was

not

up to par for this kind of thing day after day.

32 had left the door open behind her, so Noah closed it as he passed through. He ascended the stairs in front of him to the main landing of the Research station. It was a large oval shape, three stories tall. There were no windows to keep players from becoming hemmed into the corridors. The developers had mentioned in an interview they wanted Research to be conducive to sniping from one story of the building to the other, but with the site frequently getting the crappy loot roll it almost never happened.

As Noah walked around the perimeter of the facility picking up consumables, he spotted 32 across the ways, snapping a long-range sight onto a sniper rifle. She held the stock up to her shoulder and checked the alignment. Satisfied, she collapsed the rifle and stowed it on her back. She looked up at the large map of the Run projected in the middle of the room.

"Beginning round one," the Voice intoned. A large circle appeared on the map. It encompassed a large chunk of the western part of the map, including Research.

32 nodded, then began making her way towards him. Noah figured she'd wait until she was close to come up with a plan using their limited gains. He bent down to pick up an N-10 off the floor.

When he straightened up, he looked right down the barrel of the sniper rifle 32 was pointing right at his face.