Michael glanced quickly at his H.U.D (Heads Up Display), "Fifty bullets" he muttered, as he backed into a small corner. Michael flexed his grip on the pulse rifle, put his shoulder against the brace, and stepped out. As he did he saw Frostbite step into the hall; Michael put his eye down to the level of the top of the gun, and dropped a knee to the ground. He lined his sights up to Frostbites head, pulled the trigger, squeezing of several rounds. "Frostbite was dropped by Archangel", the male announcer screamed. "Got you!" Michael taunted into his microphone.

"A new player enters the arena" a female voice announced.

"Heads up, we got a hacker," Frostbites voice came through, sounds of his rebirth echoed in the background

"He's on red, Angel, get to blue" Inferno ordered. Michael reached down to the center of the chest plate of his armor. There he found a small knob. He fumbled with it for a moment, with his gloves on he had a hard time turning it, but he finally got it to sink into the next grove. "Archangel joins blue" the female's voice announced. His armor pumped out the red coloring as if it was a fluid, soon however a fluid that was blue replaced it. "What's the game plan?" Michael spoke to his new teammates.

"Radio silence, hard core snipage" Michael opened a keypad on his wrist, he typed "refit" and then hit enter. His H.U.D was filled with a menu, from it he chose a lighter armor class, a laser sniper rifle, and a jetpack. He closed the refit menu. "Now to get to a refit station," he said to himself, no one heard it. Michael opened the keypad again, this time he typed "command"; his H.U.D was now filled with a tactical map. On it he could see where his teammates were, as well as take command of base defenses, and check his deployable sensors. He checked to see where the closest refit station was, it happened to be two floors above him, and the elevator was only one room away. He closed the map, and ran low to the elevator. He stepped on and put his destination into the control box. The platform took off like a shot, and sent him skyrocketing strait up two floors in mere seconds.

The fifteenth floor was dark; the lights had been shot out in an earlier fire fight with Frostbite. The refit station's LED's glowed in the gloom. Teal and red's alternating with some indistinguishable pattern. Michael crept forward. As soon as he was completely off the elevator, it shot back down to the thirteenth floor, where he had come from. Startled by this, he looked back. Slowly he spun and looked down into the hole; no one was waiting down there. Satisfied that the hacker wasn't near by, but still cautious, he stayed low, and moved slowly to the refit station. Fear restrained his legs, and made jelly of them, or he might have actually run there. Once or twice he debated about finding another refit station. The male announcer's voice startled him; "Frostbite was slain by Rapier." Michael put his back instinctively to the nearest pillar. "Inferno, are you there?" Michael whispered into his MIC.

"I'm. Holy shit, she's here!" His friend's voice was cut off with the sound of a chain gun winding up in the background.

"Inferno was gutted by Rapier."

"You're all alone Archangel," A dark, seductive female voice seemed to come through his headset, but at the same time, it was all around him. He ran as fast as he could to the refit station. It was an awkward run, his suit weighed damn near a hundred pounds. Stepping in and turning around. His suit clicked into the station. For a moment, he vanished; the program was redigitizing his body in the armor he chose. It was light and maneuverable. But lacked the strength that his last set did. He figured he could make up for it in speed and agility though. This new player seemed to be good; hell she was great. This also puzzled him; there were never any female competitors. As he pondered this thought his armor materialized, even when his mind could not do such to a single thought. He threw open the gates of the refit station all the same and sprinted for the nearest window. It was unbroken, but he rushed through it, jumping out into the stormy night. He clicked on his jetpack, the thrusters in his boots surged on and his fall slowed, slowly it began to reverse, becoming an upward thrust. He pushed the thrusters forward, carefully monitoring his fuel. He knew there was a tower to the south. He glanced at his compass, "shit twenty degrees off." Lightning flashed, silhouetting the tower in the distance. He maneuvered his suit through the air. His fuel-warning beacon began to drone in his ear. The slow bleeping noise quickly became more rapid. With in five seconds it had turned to a solid tone. Michael glanced at the ground; speeding by nearly 200 feet below him. He shut the jetpack off; his fuel cell began to refill. "Fuel cell at ten percent" his suits female onboard computer announced. "Fuel cell at fifteen percent", he glanced down again, less then a hundred feet. He put his feet right below him. "Fuel cell at twenty" the suit's announcement was cut short by the roar of his thrusters. The ground still came rushing at him, but as he neared safe dropping level it slowed. Despite his efforts he hit the ground hard, Michael's lighter suit cushioned none of the hard blow, it brought him to the ground. He rolled over onto his back to make sure he wasn't being followed.

"Fuel cell at ten percent".

Michael lay on the ground a moment, gathering his nerves, after almost screwing up that landing, he was a little tense, and nervous. Rapier was almost certain to notice him lying on the ground, but he did not care. "Warning, Missile lock" His suit exclaimed as his H.U.D began to flash red. "Shit" Michael screamed as he rolled over. Once on his stomach he pushed himself up, and jumped as high and far back as he could manage. Michael engaged his booster. At first he moved low and fast, but as Rapier fired her load of missiles, he put his thrusters a little forward and went higher, he looked for the smoke trail. He lowered his gun, braced his shoulder against it, and put his eye through the scope. He lined the cross hairs up on Rapiers head, "And your done," he taunted as his finger tensed. He squeezed of the laser round. A visible red beam shot strait, and stayed true, right to its target. "Game Over" Michael's suit announced. And the world stopped for a brief moment shattered and went dark. For a single moment all the Michael could hear was his heartbeat and heavy breath, and all he could see was black.

Michael's helmet was lifted off; there stood Rob, A.K.A Frostbite. Rob was a tall, husky black man. Even though he should have looked menacing, or at least threatening, Rob's face was always kind. Rob was their heavy weapons specialist. He was a tank in battle, but unfortunately slow like one as well, that was his only fault. "You fragged her good, we'll have to do this another time." Michael waited for the technicians to unhook his suit that he wore. Sensors on the skin of the suit recorded his every movement, making the VR more realistic. "Yo man, that kicked ass." Michael glanced over at his other companion, Ed.

Ed was nearly as tall as rob, but he had much less of a build on him. He looked like a skater most of the time, preferring to attempt to blend in to society, but his intelligence never allowed him to. That was what brought him to this place, into these games. Ed's only threatening quality was his intelligence. He was a brutal tactician, and an utterly perfect aim with a grenade launcher. His specialty was mines, sensors and cameras. But with his spiked, dyed hair you wouldn't ever really notice.

Michael was a little smaller than his other Blood Sport teammates. He was only five foot six, a full foot shorter than the other two. However, never judge a book by its cover; he was a wicked shot, and a versatile fighter as he was fast, had stamina, and could hijack any vehicle he so desired. Together this rag-tag team of three had won nine championships. Most teams consisted of at least five players. Making this the smallest team. But these three communicated well. Their strategies were planned and precise. Finally two technicians in white lab coats approached Michael from the rear. They began disengaging cables and hoses. Finally after pulling all the wiring from the suit, they let the gyroscope Michael was strapped to level out, and released the locks holding him to it. Michael's body ached as he rolled off, though Blood Spot was VR, it still worked your muscles like the real world, when you ran in there, you ran out here. When you were shot in there, it hurt like it would out here, well not quite. They found out with earlier versions, pain-dampening devices were required; players of the early days often died in combat. Their mind would feel as though it was real and shut down. For some the pain was so bad that they would simply die from that. So every participant's heart rate, brain waves, and anything else that they felt was necessary was monitored. A technician's job was not easy.

Both Michael's legs still hurt from the rough landing he had taken near the end. And he was still shaking from it. Even a fall in VR was unnerving for him. He limped to the change room. There were no women competitors in Blood Sport; thus there was only one change room. Michael inhaled the thick steam of the showers. It filled him with strength, and calmed his nerves. Michael unzipped the front of his suit, hanging it in his locker. He glanced at his chest in the mirror. He still bore the scar from when his suit malfunction and gave him a wicked shock.

The scar tendrils looked as though it was still spreading across his chest. It in itself looked like a splash of electricity. The way that the tendrils sprouted from one center point, and were all jagged lines, which had smaller jagged scars jutting off it. Michael touched it, the new skin was soft and sent a tingle up his spine. His mind flashed back to the moment when it happened.

He was in a underground part of the map, the hallway was completely dark, minus the exit signs that dimly lit a small space every twenty feet or so. As he put his back to a wall a pain surged into his chest. His vision began to flicker. He griped his chest, tearing at the armor. Suddenly his vision went completely black. All he could hear for a moment was his hurried heart, and hard breathing. Then he awoke in the real world, screaming, as four of the technicians rushed up to him, and began hastily disengaging him from the machine. The suit had short circuited, it had begun to shock and burn him, the voltage was equivalent to that of a lightning bolt and had left a hefty scar that nearly covered his chest. Ever since that accident he's been afraid of getting caught in limbo, as some players do, their brain goes catatonic, and they can't leave the battlefield. When they do leave however, their brains cease to function. Since that accident where he had come severely close to going catatonic, coming out of VR scared him dearly. "Hey man, snap out of it, your home, everything is real again." Rob's deep sympathetic voice came from behind Michael as a large, weighty, and overly strong hand was slapped onto his shoulder. Rob chuckled, "still wondering about that scar angel?" His teammates rarely called him Michael, but it was a sign of their closeness.

"Yea, just sort of lost myself for a moment bear", bear was Michael's term of endearment for Rob. Rob slid his hand of Michael's shoulder and calmly walked away and began to talk to Ed. Ed was always quick to dress, and often complained about the others lack of speed. Though the hacker seemed to have kept his mouth shut today. Finally he spoke, "Man, I got nailed hardcore by that hacker chick. Who was she, hot damn"

"Your such a horn dog skate," Michael cocked his head at Ed as he did his belt up.

"Dude, though, did you see her ass. That was like holy shit." He was getting hyper

"Bear, knock him out please, I don't need to deal with this today, I just about missed my shot, and I fucked that landing so hard it hurts me," Michael said as he groped for his shoes inside the locker

"I don't know man, maybe you didn't notice her rack," Rob stated, he himself was already dressed and sitting on the bench.

"You're always so slow angel," Ed mocked

"I'm just testing your patience skate, this is all for you," Michael kept his attention on the shoes.

"Then why are you pissing me off," Rob said, his voice actually sounded angry. Michael finished tying his shoes with a little more haste than usual, and grabbed his duffel bag.

"All right we can go."

"Good," Rob said, standing up. He was slow doing so, first straitening his legs, making sure he kept his back arched, and then straitening up to his full height

"Lets roll it out," Ed dropped his skate board on the ground and stepped on it. He was quick and maneuverable on the board. Sliding around benches, and beating Michael and Rob out of the change room into the main lobby of the facility. Ed slowed and waited for the other two. When they had caught up, he popped his skateboard up and under his arm. They exited the building at the same time, all using separate doors, but talking and laughing replaying their greatest combat moments as they walked down the steps into the parking lot where Michael's truck waited. It was like they were kids again.

Michael's truck was an older style GMC pickup. But it ran well, and Michael could solve most problems. The body was showing some signs of wear, just surface rust. As usual however, Rob and Ed started into their predictable spiel about how the new cars drove themselves. And Michael, as always, countered with the fact that, if the cars drove themselves, you might as well take a cab, or a bus. But somehow the conversation kept looping back to Rapier. 'Who was she?' Michael wondered that as he meandered his was back to Rob's. And even after that. On his way to the skate park to drop Ed off. None of the three talked much after she kept coming up. This was the first time they had seen a woman in Blood Sport. Even after he got back to his place, his nice studio loft. That thought ran through his mind, 'Who was Rapier?'

At one thirty in the morning Michael was still awake. His mind pondering whom his female assailant truly was. What her name was? What she looked like? All this troubled his mind, and twisted his stomach. Finally at about two o'clock he got up for something to eat, and a cold beer. As he shuffled past the phone on his way back from the kitchen he decided to go watch some late night TV. "Lights, low" he spoke. Three lights that were in a row, and faced the back wall came on. They dimly lit the living room. Michael rummaged in the fridge for a moment before deciding on a ham sandwich. He grabbed the sliced ham, some lettuce from the drawer, and the mayonnaise from the door. He spread it all out on the counter and started by spreading the mayonnaise on the left slice and piling the lettuce on the other. Then he put the ham on the mayonnaise and started returning everything, he grabbed a beer after everything was in the fridge and a small plate for his sandwich. He then made his way gracefully for the living room and put his sandwich on the table and took a sip of his beer as he settled into his plush, overstuffed, leather couch. "TV, on" the big screen flicked on. "Stereo, on" the stereo clicked on, and the room came to life. "Stereo, one third volume." The noise subsided. "TV, channel forty-one" The numbers four and one appeared in the top left-hand corner in a bright green. The TV displayed a man standing on a stage. His words were barely audible. "Stereo, one half volume" the sound level slowly elevated in his apartment. "So this was my first time to Canada, eh. And what's the first sign I see as I cross the border." The comedian held his hand up and moved it with a strait arm, waved it back and forth as he read the sign to the audience, "Speed limit 100," he dropped his arm and took a sideways stance to the camera, "And I'm thinkin'." He paused and looked up into a spotlight. Quickly and suddenly he turns back to the camera and lets loose maniacal laughter. Michael nearly spat his beer out. The comedian proceeded to act out his driving experience. Michael sat and listened to some more comedians. Most were enough to at least make him chuckle as he hogged down on his ham sandwich, or chugged his beer. When the show was over and the last comedian had said his last one liner Michael commanded the TV to go to the classical music station. As the TV switched its bandwidth, the sound of Beethoven's fifth symphony expanded the loft into a concert hall. Michael walked to the kitchen and took another beer out of the fridge. As he opened the bottle on the counter the phone rang. "Who the," Michael cut his sentence short as he walked to the phone, leaving his beer on the table. "Stereo, mute," Beethoven cut out. Michael put his hand on the phone; it rang again. He picked it up and hit "phone on" before the ring was out. "Who is this?" Michael asked angrily.

"It's Skate man, holy relax. My mom kicked me out for the night; I'm at phone booth about a block from your place. Can I come and use your couch?"

"You scared the shit out of me skate. But sure come on over, buzz me when you get here, I'll send the elevator for you." The elevator was the only way into or out of Michael's place, minus the fire escape. The building he lived in was old, and he had the whole factory to himself, but never really used anything but the storage that served as his loft studio apartment. But it felt like home. "Alright man, I'll be there in few. Check ya's later," for a second, Ed had sounded normal.

"See ya when you get here skate," Michael pressed the off button on the phone. It was still in his hand, but only an inch from the table when it rang again. Michael sighed. He picked the phone up and hit the on button again. "What now Skate?" He was almost certain skate had forgotten to mention something. But the only response was silence. "Who is this?" Michael spoke in a quiet, gravelly whisper at the caller.

"You're all alone Archangel," it was the same dark female voice he had heard in the game. Then the line went dead. Michael dropped the phone and sprinted for his bedroom. He put his pants on and looked at his shirt, but decided to get his gun first. In the front left pocket he found his keys. He pulled them out and fumbled with them for a moment before getting the right one. He took the small key to the nightstand beside his bed. The lock proved to be more stubborn when he was shaking, but it finally disengaged, he whipped the drawer open and pulled his point four-four magnum out. The gun was an old six-shooter, but had been modernized by a targeting laser, and a two times scope. It proved to be lethal. An electric buzzing filled the loft, skate was here, or was it the hacker. Michael's paranoia severed his sanity. Despite the electric shock of fear he walked casually to the elevator and pushed the button that forced it to descend. But a quick lapse of reason forced him to quickly run back for cover. He ducked behind a counter that was situated in front of the elevator entrance. He rested his gun against the counter and engaged his laser. A red dot shone on the stainless steel doors. It was relatively at head level. The elevator whirred upwards. Michael brought the hammer back. The elevator screeched to a halt, and the mechanism that opened the doors engaged. "Holy shit," Skate exclaimed as he dodged left. Michael clicked his laser sighting off, and opened the chambers, then let the hammer drop harmlessly. "Do you greet all your house guest with a smile and magnum round?"

"Only the dangerous ones Skate. Besides, she just called me, I couldn't take any chances." Michael said as he stood up from behind the counter.

"Who?" Ed said as he took his jacket off, and looked for a place to throw it.

"Rapier," Michael was blunt with his reply.

"Does she sound hot?" Ed decided to just drop his jacket on the floor. His skate followed, making a solid thud on the concrete.

"She sounds," he paused for a moment, "malevolent, dark, and sexy. So yea, hot," He figured he could indulge himself late at night when it was just the two of them.

"Nice. Get a name?"

"All she said was, "now your alone Archangel." Sort of creepy."

"I'd call it sexy."

"It was a little unnerving," just as Michael finished his sentence, the elevator doors closed and the machine began it's decent. Ed threw open his vest, and grabbed his duel Glock nine pistols. They were simplistic looking nine-millimeter handguns, with fifteen shot clips. "I thought you had to do that angel." Ed said, his voice a little shaky.

"I can see why your parents kicked you out, you're what nineteen, and you carry two pistols on you." Michael had completely ignored him

"Oh shut up, you're only a year older than me."

"True, but I also have my own place, and don't carry my weapon where ever I go. On top of that I only have one."

"Just shut up and get behind that counter." Michael jogged back behind the counter. "Get down below it, and shut your laser sighting off." Michael did as he was told. "Now we need it completely dark in here."

"Lights, off," Michael spoke, and the lights obeyed. The apartment went dark, except the moonlight that filtered through his windows, and the soft glow of the television. "Shades, close." In the living room he heard his coffee table being over turned. "TV, Off," the entire apartment went dark. Minus the humming and whirring of the elevator, it had become silent as well. In the dark they waited. The elevator stopped, and the bulbs inside cast a dim light in the loft. "Oh boys," it was the same voice he had heard earlier, there was almost no doubt in his mind, but it had a softer, younger quality to it now.

"Freeze bitch," Ed said from the living room. Michael popped over the counter and engaged his laser sighting. Because the only light in the whole of the place was what which filtered from the elevator, she was silhouetted, and most her features were not visible. He figure was mangled by her orientation to Michael. "Lights, low," he spoke. The place became dimly lit.

She was beautiful. Roughly six feet tall, with proportions similar to most models. Dressed in khaki shorts and a white T-shirt she looked rather harmless. Her supple hips showed, and she had a prosperous upper body as well, her face showed a surprised expression. Even from where he was crouched Michael could see her beautiful blue eyes, they were a bright, harsh color. She had slender smooth legs, a small waist, and relatively small arms, the muscles in her arms and legs were visibly defined however. "Woah, put the guns down," She said as three red dots trained on her forehead. "I'm not here for a fight. Honest. I'm unarmed." She put her hands in the air and spun in a slow circle. Michael looked closely for any bulge in the shirt or pants that might indicate a weapon of any sort; he found nothing out of the ordinary. "Drop your weapons Skate," Michael said, "she's not packin'."

"I'll be the judge of that," Ed taunted from the next room.

"Fine, don't put your weapons down." The woman said. "I'll just stand here and let you get a good look," she had a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"Well, what did you come all this way for?" Michael spoke from behind his gun.

"Yea lady, what?" Ed said threateningly from the next room.

"Skate, my house, I'll ask the question, you just shut up." Michael's voice was choppy.

"Fine, what ever angel," Ed's voice sounded defeated.

"What do you want Rapier?" Michael hadn't moved his aim from her forehead.

"I don't know what, rapier wants, but I want to play," her voice was flat.

"Women don't play Blood Sport," Ed bluntly stated.

"Skate, I thought I told you to shut up," I said sarcastically.

"Skate, there are a lot of things women never used to do. There always has to be a first," she looked directly at him.

"Rapier, focus on me, not him, he isn't here." She stared at Michael, he knew how good she was and he wasn't going to let skate blow this; Michael shut his laser off and laid his gun on the counter, as he stood up

"Angel, you creep, what are you doing?" Ed exclaimed when he saw Michael's dot leave Rapiers forehead.

"Just relax," Michael got up and left his gun on the counter. "Lights, half. Shutters, open. TV, on. Stereo, one third volume," the house came to life again, classical music filled the loft once more though it was a great deal quieter than before. "So Rapier, you want to become the first woman to play Blood Sport?"

"Look, first of all, my name is Shauna. And second, I know I still have to prove myself, but I can play," she said angrily, "if that’s what this is about," her voice was undercut by disrespect. Michael paid no attention to it.

Michael thought, 'if she's not rapier than who is she?' But his mind soon rejected that thought and continued as normal. "So I noticed, name's Michael," Michael said offering his hand. Rapier shook hands with him. Her skin was soft but her grip was not.

"Angel, are you insane, you fuck?" Ed mocked, his gun still trained on Shauna.

"If she was here to kill us, this would have been over a long time ago Skate," Michael stated as if Shauna wasn't there. There was a pause before Ed would reply.

"So," there was a long silence before he spoke again, "we got ourselves a rebel chick. Not bad," Ed said, letting up and taking his aim off Shauna. The sounds of snaps closing could be heard in the other room, Ed was obviously holstering his guns

"Sit down," Michael's voice was a little more forceful then he intended, "want a beer?" Michael gave an attempt at being a good host; he felt it necessary after Ed kept his guns trained on her for so long.

"Sure, why not," Ed accepted the offer while he righted the coffee table.

"Ah, why not," Shauna said from the dinning room as she pulled a noisily chair out. Michael grabbed a beer from the fridge, and tossed one to Ed as he walked around the corner, then plunged back into the fridge and retrieved another. As the fridge door shut he grabbed his fresh beer off the counter. He set the beer that was in his right hand in front of Shauna. Ed flipped out his multi-tool and unfolded the bottle cap opener attachment. Shauna, well she grabbed the lid and twisted it off with her hands. "Bravo," Michael exclaimed. As Ed sat down, Michael spoke, "to the motley drew of Blood Sport," they clicked bottles together. "Wait a moment, Bear isn't here," Michael said with a mouthful of beer. He slammed his bottle on the table, and walked to his phone. On the phone he hit a button titled "Mem" and the phone came up with a message saying, "Memory slot to access?" Michael typed zero, six, in quick succession and put the phone to his ear. It rang once, twice, and bears deep gravelly answered on the end of the third ring. "Who the hell is this?" his voice had real anger driving it.

"It's Angel"

"It's four in the morning Angel, this ought to be good."

"It is, with your approval, we have a new team member."

"Don't pull my chain, it's too early, you know we have been hard pressed to find another," the large man paused for a moment, "I'm listening"

"It's the hacker."

"The chick, she can't play."

"I will disagree with you, she has the skill. And there has to be a first for everything, how's about we get our names in the history books?"

"I'm coming over, we can talk then."

"See you in a moment Bear," Michael pressed the off button. "He's on his way over," Michael said as he set the phone down. The whole time Shauna looked as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the courage to.

"So I gathered," Ed spoke with sarcasm.

"Just shut up, and mind your manners," Michael put a hint of anger into his voice. Pointing towards Ed as he walked back to his beer. "So, you know, now I have questions for you," Michael said pointing to Shauna.

"Fire away," she sounded confident.

"First how did you get into the mainframe?"

"She hacked, how else," Ed sounded angry.

"I think she can answer," Michael's tone was one of the men who aren't in moods for games.

"I have been a technician for almost a year at one of the other stadiums in this city." Shauna looked around for surprised looks, "in my spare time I wrote my own program, so that I could play." She glanced once more for shocked looks, "And after practicing for quite sometime, I began to look for a team that needed players. But I never played with you," she put a lot of emphasis on the work, 'never', "I simply did some research, found out where Michael here lives. So I came here, I over rid the elevator and came up."

"Well your damned lucky we didn't shoot you."

"Yo bitch, listen up we're small and like it that way, being small makes us well communicated. Besides you’re a novice," Ed's voice burned with anger.

"Well you know what, I've been playing for a year now. I think that’s as long as you." Shauna was quick with the comebacks. But Michael knew he had to stop this from going to far.

"Both of you, stop. We may have to go in together. We've got to be able to work together. If we can't work together then we will fail, I think you both know that. So just stop, calm down, and stop assuming everything, none of us are normal players. Rapier, the judges may not like you playing."

"I know that, and my name is Shauna. I don't know who this Rapier chick is."

"Shauna, sorry I snapped at you," at least Ed was making an effort to sound sincere.

"It's alright, I snapped back, we're even," Shauna said as she offered her hand. Ed took it, and the shook once, "Friends?"

"Friends," Ed repeated.

"Now with that out of the way, I'd like to" Michael was cut short by the buzzer.

"That’s not Bear, he doesn't live that close," Ed spoke from a closed throat, as he got up and made a move for the living room, he was by the wall when the buzzer sounded again.

"Yea, I didn't hear that massive SUV of his. Skate, give Shauna a Glock," Michael ordered as he grabbed his magnum off the counter. Ed grumbled slightly, but only for a moment.

"Shauna!" Ed yelled as he tossed the pistol to her. She caught it in her left hand. 'She's a southpaw?' Michael thought to himself as he sent the elevator down. Again he went to the counter and duct down behind it. 'Third time tonight, am I gonna have to answer everyone like this. I need a camera down there.' Ed slipped past him to the living room and tipped the coffee table over. Shauna grabbed all three bottles and set them on the ground before tipping the kitchen table over. "House, shut down," Michael spoke. The house didn't respond, oh well, it was no use, who ever it was knew he was here. The elevator whirred upwards. Michael suddenly realized he was shaking. He took deep breaths and attempted to calm himself to no avail. The elevator doors screeched open. Michael peaked around the side of the counter; there was no one there. 'What the?' There was a long silence. Ed, who screamed, "Who ever is in there, please step out", broke the silence. Ed's laser sighting came on. A red dot shone on the inside of the elevator. Michael was shaking too badly for his laser sight to be a threat; he would look like a novice, and shoot like one. He decided instead to use the scope. Holding the gun at an arm length he looked through the scope, everything else blurred, and he became focused. Though only a few seconds had passed since Ed's order, the tension stretched it to an eternity. Shauna clicked on her laser sighting, "There is more than one of us, step out slowly, with your arms in the air, and we will not open fire." Nothing moved in the steel casket. Michael stared hard at the walls till he noticed something move in the reflection off on of the steel panels. He took a single shot into the elevator. His gun thundered in the loft, windows shook and Michael was knocked on his ass. The bullet ricocheted inside the elevator several times. "Fuck this," he heard Ed mumble. "YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS TO STEP OUT FROM THAT ELEVATOR BEFORE WE OPEN FIRE!" Ed sounded severely upset with this coward. A few moments passed before Bear stepped forward, the time felt unbearably long.

"Bear, you bastard, you scared me." Ed

"Sorry," Michael apologized, "I don't know why, but we're a little on edge tonight."

"Hi," Shauna said, standing up from behind he shield.

"She looks like a damned librarian, I'm going home," Rob's voice was distraught. And he had completely ignored both Ed and Michael, who had began to argue.

"And you look like a washed out football player, but I ain't sayin anythin bout that am I?" Shauna said, taking the offence, her voice was clear and raised well above both Michael's and Ed's bickering.

"Bear man, she killed you, It don't matter what she looks like, she can play," Ed pointed out.

"She killed you, and Angel wasted her, all lucky shots," Rob was apparently not too happy with Michael for waking him up and calling him here, and on top of that, pulling a gun and actually taking a shot at him.

"So if you doubt her ability to play, why are you here?" Michael pointed out.

"Will you people listen to me?" Shauna was at the top of her lungs, "I did not hack into any games. I did not call myself Rapier. And the only thing I have killed are high level bots!" she took a deep breath, "Jesus people, all I do is hack an elevator and I get accused of hacking the mainframe."

"Cause I thought she was gonna be hot," Rob's bulk passed through the elevator doors. Completely ignoring what Shauna had just spieled out.

"What that wasn't you?" Michael said, his mind taken a back by her statement.

"You're afraid Bear, of me," Shauna said, taunting Rob, as he was about to walk out on them. And completely ignoring Michael as he had done to her all night.

"I'm what?" Rob's voice had turned from disappointment to boiling with vehemence.

"You're afraid," Shauna repeated.

"And apparently your not," Rob paused, again there was so much tension in the air that Michael found it hard to breath, "I like that." He continued, " I was just testing her; she has to be aggressive," Rob said, he chuckled as he entered the loft again.

"I thought you were gonna go home," Ed said from the living room as Shauna righted the table she had been hiding behind.

"Rapier convinced me to stay," Rob glanced at Ed. "What's with that man?" Rob said as he tripped over Ed's skating stuff.

"Oh yea, watch yourself Bear," Ed said sarcastically.

"Am I offending the little person," Rob spoke directly at Michael.

"I think you are Bear, you might want to stop before he has to pistol whip you," Michael's voice shook with deep laughter.

"You all suck, and your all bastards," Ed's voice trembled, but it was more with anger than laughter.

"That hurts me where it counts," Rob put his hand over his right side, on his mirror image heart.

"Your hearts on your left side, big guy, sometimes your the slow one. And before you say anything Angel, your usually the slow one, it's only sometimes that Bear takes your place," Ed took a deep breath after his speech.

"Your such a smart ass Skate." Michael switched his attention to Rob, "Bear, you want or need a beer?"

"Well, well, what are we all drinking tonight?" Rob lumbered up to the table, and sat down. The chair protested to this action.

"I think its Heinekens," Ed mentioned from the living room as he turned the coffee table over.

"Does he have it folks," Michael said, attempting to make his voice sound like a game show host.

"For one million dollars, did Skate guess the type of beer that Mike has in his fridge?" Shauna's voice said in a low whisper. Michael tossed a bottled beer across the room at Rob; it sailed right to his massive hand, which dwarfed the green bottle. Rob's hand was so massive that the bottle was nearly entirely covered.

"YES, it is Heineken, but there is no prize, as Skate has not hit puberty yet," Rob pushed the satire further than it needed to go. Ed slinked up behind Rob and gave him a quick slap in the back of the head, then quickly jumped back in anticipation of retaliation. Rob slammed his beer on the table. "Alright Skate, I grow quite tired of this shit." Even as he stood up, and yet through his shirt and shorts the rippling mass of muscle asserted itself. Michael did absolutely nothing to stop any of this. He just leaned back in his chair forcing it to creak, and watched the drama unfold. Michael took a long drink of his beer, then gave a long, and overly noisy, sound of refreshment, almost as if the beer took away all his problems. He glanced at the bottle; condensation had formed on the outside of the glass. He watched his reflection in the droplets. "Michael," Shauna yelled at him, "Michael, how are we gonna get me inside to play?" The whole of Michael's attention was inside the perspiration of the beer. "Michael, god damn it listen to me!" Shauna's voice was so elevated that both Rob and Ed had stopped yelling and punching each other. Michael's eyes were completely glazed over, and his right hand, which was empty, clenched into a tight fist.

"Angel man, snap out of it." Rob's voice was tender. Michael's whole arm was shaking now; it was fully flexed and bulging. And his other arm was tensing up. The cords in his wrist formed high peeks and deep valleys upon his skin. Ed snapped his fingers right in front of Michael's face; and yet he did not come too. Shauna went to touch his shoulder but Rob's deep voice cautioned her, "If you snap him out that way, he might become violent," Shauna's arm stopped mere inches from Michael's shoulders.

"So what are we supposed to do?" Shauna's voice showed she was trying to hide her fear. And while she succeeded in fooling Ed, Rob's empathetic nature knew right away what to tell her.

"Right now, Angel is in a memory, and what ever it is it's not pleasant." Michael's fist was so tight that his beer had shattered and glass had dug into his skin and forced his deep red blood to the surface. Rob's attention turned to Michael, "Angel, pull your self back, we're all here," his voice soft, and caring, yet still unable to shed its deep gravel like quality. "Angel, pull yourself back, it’s a memory." Rob kept repeating this. Michael's hand, almost completely covered in blood, stopped shaking. Rob began his speech again and Michael was coming back. His mind left the droplets. His eyes became clear again, and he relaxed his grip. As soon as Michael had come back far enough to feel pain he cried out. He used his left hand under his right hand to hold the blood. He went to the kitchen sink and dropped the free shards into the silver bucket. Then he turned on the water and ran his blood soaked hand under it for a few minutes; some of the glass shards could be heard tinkling against the stainless steel basin. Blood refused to mix with water, but instead became red smoke in the clear of the water. Michael all the while making a hissing noise through his teeth, the pain combined with the damage done to his hand caused it to shake. Some of the more violent tremors vibrated through the rest of his arm and at times through his entire body. All the while his friends stood by idly, paralyzed with fear. And Michael acted as though he hadn't fallen into that trance, he simply dealt with the aftermath of it as he would have any other accident.