How Do You Dodge Bullets?

It just worked if you did it.

"There's one thing I'm curious about. How do you dodge bullets?"

Jump asked while we waited for a match to pop.

I had no idea how to answer that.

If someone asked you how to breathe, what would you even say? You'd have no choice but to tell them you just inhale and exhale. Dodging bullets was the same kind of thing for me. I saw them, so I got out of the way. There was no method to it, no trick, no handy little tip.

Which meant I had nothing useful to offer a question like that.

"It's a feel thing. There's no real way to explain it."

"Whoa, you can do that by feel? You haven't even been playing that long. Did you actually serve in some special forces unit or something?"

"Well... something like that."

"Is that so... Hey, chat, what is that supposed to mean. You cross the line and I'm kicking you."

What on earth had shown up in chat to make him say that?

I was already in-game, so checking Jump's stream and reading the chat myself was impossible. The only way to gauge the viewers was to listen to Jump talking back at them and piece it together from there.

"Anyone who went over the line is getting banned, first of all."

He kept sniping back and forth with the audience, so the comments coming in were clearly not the friendly kind. I was just starting to wonder what they were actually saying when a line of text bloomed in the center of my vision: a match had been found.

The screen shifted, and the loading window that came up read Deathmatch – Terminal.

Unlike the Shanghai map last time, this one looked like a fight boxed into a building — a closed, limited space.

When the load finished, five teammates including Jump filled my view. What stood out was that each of them was holding a weapon they'd already customized to their own taste. Some had gone with the usual attachments; others had slapped on stickers and keychains.

The one that really caught the eye was the person in an all-black outfit carrying a gun painted bright pink. Why would anyone paint a firearm like that? If the point was camouflage, the gun should have been black too. All that did was make it pop harder against the contrast. In a real warzone, that kit would have been a sniper's gift. But this was a game. If I just filed it under looking cool, the fashion sense wasn't completely incomprehensible.

Not that I thought it looked cool at all.

"Uh... so, Unknown?"

"What is it?"

The look Jump was giving me was strange — the kind of grimace you make when you've seen something you weren't supposed to. Had I already screwed something up? I was still a beginner who'd barely started the game; there was every chance there was some unspoken rule among the players that I simply didn't know. Some games had those.

My guess was wrong. The reason Jump's face had crumpled was my loadout.

Sure, guns had performance differences. But that kind of thing flipped easily depending on who was holding them. And the M16 I had equipped wasn't even that bad. It didn't seem like something worth hating this much.

"Unknown, do you have another weapon? This map's a lot of close-quarters fighting. The M16 might be a little rough for you."

He wasn't wrong. The M16 was effective for engaging targets at range and not particularly useful up close. The one in my hands only had burst and semi-auto, which would make it look even worse. A glance at the rest of the team confirmed it: most of them were carrying SMGs or shotguns. That pink gun from earlier was a P90, and Jump in front of me had a K2C1. It was still classified as an assault rifle, but it would at least be more useful in close than an M16.

Looking at Jump's thoroughly unimpressed stare, I almost wanted to swap just to make him feel better. Unfortunately, the M16 was the only gun I actually owned. And it didn't matter anyway — I hadn't planned on using my primary from the start.

On a map like this, with plenty of cover and close fights breaking out constantly, this was the better play.

"I'll just run pistol and knife."

Jump was speechless.

A pistol and a single knife. Seriously?

He knew how good Unknown was. The way she'd sprinted at him while slipping every round he'd fired had looked like a scene out of a horror movie. But he was still worried. This map was close-range fights all day long, and most of the players had shown up with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠SMGs and shotguns that shredded up close. He'd brought a K2 himself only because it was what his hands already knew.

Even Unknown, he thought, couldn't dodge a submachine gun dumped at that distance.

He'd even put up a stream title — Woman accused of hacking turns out to be a cracked player? — and if what he actually showed was her brainlessly charging in and dying... there wasn't a more miserable outcome than that.

...Or so he worried. Unknown, meanwhile, was going completely feral.

The kill log coming up was not normal.

If they were fighting at close range, a pistol and a knife shouldn't have been winning. Jump, having just eaten a round and died, switched his camera and spectated from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Unknown's point of view.

A tactical knife cut the air and opened a throat in one clean stroke. There was no time to stand still just because one enemy was down. Without a shred of hesitation, Unknown threw her body to the left. In that sliver of a second, the spot she'd been standing in sprouted dozens of bullet holes.

The player who'd seen her take cover tossed a smoke grenade at his feet to hide his own position. It burst with a hiss of escaping air, and the smoke swallowed the space around them, drawing a dirty curtain between Unknown and the enemy.

Convinced he'd blinded her, the player turned to swing wide and check her position from the flank. In that instant he met Unknown's eyes — wild, lit with something unhinged — as she punched straight through the smoke.

A chill ran down his spine.

Coming through smoke meant you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were accepting you'd take damage. What kind of idiot charged like that without knowing what was waiting on the other side? If the other guy was already aiming, you'd be turned into a beehive.

It wasn't what he'd expected, but he didn't panic. The situation still favored him. All she had was a pistol and a knife. A few hits from a low-damage sidearm wouldn't kill him. The knife in her off hand was annoying, sure, but it didn't have the reach to matter at this distance.

Calmly, he put his sights on Unknown and pulled the trigger.

It was an SMG, with a rate of fire better than a standard rifle. No matter how good she was, dodging bullets at this range was impossible.

Unknown ignored the incoming fire and kept coming. The first few rounds looked like she slipped them — but eating every shot at that distance was a fairy tale. Several rounds punched through her body.

The player was already sure he'd won. Unknown, as if she still hadn't given up, kept charging anyway. He figured it was a last thrash before she died. In a normal fight he might have taken cover, but he'd already dumped his movement speed for the heaviest armor he could wear. In his head, there was nothing left she could do. He let his guard down.

What she did next left him staring.

A hiss of air — Unknown, still running, hurled the knife in her hand with everything she had.

Of course a knife wasn't punching through that armor. It almost looked like she was mocking him for relaxing.

Then it sank home. The thrown blade buried itself dead in the unarmored hollow of his throat, a perfect strike on a vital point. The player, who had never imagined he could be hit, didn't even think to react.

A wet slash — Unknown closed the last of the distance and opened his throat a second time. Blood sprayed in every direction, and the world went black and white.

Jump, watching the whole thing from spectate, couldn't make sense of it either.

Fine. Dodging bullets ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he could almost accept. But what the hell was that just now? Not only slipping gunfire — landing a thrown knife from that distance, dead on target? His brain simply refused to process it as something a person could do.

It was a game, sure, but... that was too much.

Chat couldn't figure out what they'd just watched either.

Jump would have liked to keep spectating Unknown a little longer, but his respawn timer ran out. Even after his character dropped back in, he couldn't bring himself to move. The play he'd just seen wouldn't leave his head.

"SMGs are definitely hard to dodge."

The person responsible, of course, was still playing like she had no idea what the fuss was about.