Counter-Terror Operation (2)
I basked in the rave reviews, chuckling as I grabbed my rifle. I rappelled down the spire like it was about to crumble, then headed to our rally point. Everyone who'd been with me just moments ago was already there. Alpha Team, and even the terrorists from inside the building.
"GG!"
"Good game! That was one hell of a match!"
The heavily armed black-clad soldiers and the red-bereted terrorists shaking hands in this bizarre scene. I strolled casually into the familiar sight.
Soon, people spotted me, and one of them approached.
"B2! Crazy bitch! How the hell did you pull off that last shot? You sneak a smart shooter in or what?"
A smart shooter is an AI-assisted military support platform developed for snipers. The soldier slapping my shoulder and grinning got a scolding from the terrorist next to him.
"This game was modern gear only, remember? Even a smart shooter couldn't make that shot."
"I've used one, it felt similar. Didn't think a human could actually do it, though."
I chimed in coolly to the soldier spinning his realistic tale.
"Felt weird as hell using it in ops."
"Yeah, like you're just jerking off a machine. Super effective, but honestly? Wouldn't do it twice."
"Survival's what matters. I'd suck off a machine once if it kept me alive." The crude gay joke slipped out effortlessly. At first, I'd get offended, but I'd learned to roll with it.
"You just wanna do it yourself."
"Fuck you, B2!"
"You first!"
We flipped each other off and traded insults until the crowd's attention drifted away. Talk shifted to the op we'd just finished.
"So, you think that empty space at the end was legit?"
"With those shields up, no matter how you build it, it looks off."
Men huddled over building schematics, deep in heated debate. And others...
"Whose son of a bitch designed this defensive position?"
"Gotta have this level to make it challenging and fun."
"No Vietnam vet could pull this off!"
"Haha, Vietnam vets are barely 100. That's why they can."
"100? Hmm... could be. Fine, the positions are solid like you said. But that reinforcement method? No way."
"Pissed? Duel me then."
"You're on. Send the code."
People peeling off for their fateful showdowns. I wrapped up with my buddy we'd been cursing at each other and watched them go. What a bunch of fun gamers.
Chasefield X. This game draws in true military otakus who love everything from flintlocks to modern warfare. It wasn't always like this, though. Early on, the core mode was massive base-capture battles on huge fields, and it was pretty popular. But like all games, player numbers dwindled over time. Then killer new titles dropped, and it was on the brink of shutdown.
That's when someone came up with what I'm playing now: Private Room mode, aka custom mode. Bank heists, VIP escorts, cruise ship hijacks, you name it. Scenarios based on real or hypothetical events, Blue Team vs. Red Team mock battles. Word spread among mil-sim fans, and it's kept the game alive ever since.
"Catch you later!"
"Yeah, good times. See you alive next round."
"Bye then! See you later, my man!"
People exchanged farewells and logged off one by one.
"B2! Don't meet in real life! Haha!"
"Yeah, get lost!"
I returned the double bird to my buddy, and suddenly it was just me and one other. The room owner and our commander from the last game.
"B2."
"Conel, been waiting."
"Ran longer than planned. Time for a cigar and black beer before bed."
"...It's 4 a.m.?"
"9 p.m. in Germany. Perfect timing."
The guy folks call Colonel Conel was your classic German ajae. Wouldn't even touch basic customs, said he had no clue how. She plopped down on debris like it was a chair and brought a hand to her mouth. Invisible in-game, but yeah, she's puffing one now.
"Fuuu... B2, that last shot."
"Oh, that? Pretty badass, right?"
"In more ways than one."
"Huh?"
Old game engine, I could feel her face turning toward me. Anyway, the German dude was staring intently.
"Why not target the terrorist at the end?"
"Well..."
"That was insane. Hitting it was a miracle. Worst case, the grenade bounces everywhere and wipes your team."
"Shooting the terrorist wouldn't have stopped the incoming grenade."
"A couple casualties, maybe. But terrorist down for sure."
Conel's logic checked out. Like we'd discussed, ops prioritize minimizing failure odds. Aiming for two grenades at once? Insane.
"True."
"Yeah..."
"If it wasn't me, you'd be right."
"Huh?"
The German was way off base. Thinking I'd showboated for highlights. ...Okay, a little. But I kept cool.
"From my firing angle, even if I hit both grenades, they'd frag or bounce away from our guys, not toward them."
I pulled up the map, tracing my shot path and team positions.
"Confident I could've neutralized the terrorist with the second shot anyway. Best choice for everyone's happy ending."
"Hmm..."
"Want a replay spectator view?"
"You judged all that in that split second...?"
Her mutter was too quiet, laced with German—sounded like praise. Then she stood abruptly, hand on my shoulder.
"B2, know what our room folks say about you?"
"What? Spilling tea now?"
"The one everyone wants as a teammate... and doesn't."
"...What?"
I tilted my head at the nonsense. Conel chuckled, then dropped the bomb I'd been waiting for.
"So, what about my offer?"
"Sub in? Sure, schedule works. Why not."
Chasefield X Private Rooms started as user mods. Bugs and bullshit happen, so randoms cause drama. Bigger rooms recruit trusted, mannerly players. That's what Conel was asking.
Normally I'd pass—too much hassle—but I was craving fresh faces.
"Then Korea University tomorrow."
"Right, you scout and interview IRL first?"
"Accidents happen otherwise. Half my recommendation too. Decline if you want."
"You're in Korea now, yeah? Cool. Let's talk face-to-face tomorrow."
Real-life meetup. Kinda exciting, kinda iffy picturing the German ajossi. ...What if he's a weirdo?
"Something feel off? Talking shit?"
"Nah. See you then."
"...Yeah. Bringing a gift and a buddy—you know her."
"Gift? Who's the buddy?"
"In B2 terms... 'Keeping it secret's more fun.'"
"Ha, classic..."
I laughed dryly at her dad humor.
"Sounds fun. Looking forward."
Quick goodbye, hit logout. The in-game wind faded to silence and darkness.
"Fuu..."
I stretched, ditched the headset. Desk, bed, books, half-eaten ramen cup on the floor—ordinary room. My pad.
Hand to chin: stubbly beard.
"Gotta shave... and shower."
The little mirror showed my face. Nothing like my soldier cosplay—average Korean guy.
2050. Some things never change, no matter the world. Future's still got NEETs and the unemployed.
That's me.