Team Six

I’d mentioned it once before—before falling to America—but I loved that old FPS game.

Its objective was simple, and no matter how you sliced it, the appeal came down to one thing: pure simplicity and that instinctive rush. Over time, FPS titles evolved into games where you had to think in dozens of layers, but I never cared. If it was an FPS, I’d jump in and tinker with whatever extras were there—modifications, custom loadouts, the whole menu.

Directly translated, there was the bizarrely titled Rainbow Six Siege. There were massive 64-player domination modes. Scenarios where you became a war hero with real duties. Escape games set inside closed economic zones. They all shared the FPS tag, yet each sat on its own separate server.

But…

“…There are a lot of them.”

“That’s the deal I made—buying the old FPS game’s IP and slotting it all into Dark Zone. So all those players flooded in.”

“Yeah, I can see it.”

They were games I’d seen somewhere once. Why did they all crowd into Dark Zone?

Old memories surfaced one by one. Looking back, I remembered catching a glimpse of a Dark Zone article that mentioned this exact thing—how they’d ported countless past FPS titles into virtual reality.

Technically impossible, but still… ridiculous. I never thought I’d face my own past games like this.

The external mission list—the mode explanations Dark Zone provided—had been tweaked just a little. The world-building and settings had been adapted, so the originals were hard to recognize.

But the important part, as always, was the actual content. When I opened the detailed view for Team Six, the familiar maps bloomed in front of me: the mansion, the bank, the coastline—everything arranged exactly as I remembered.

Hmm.

“It’s been a while since my last rappel practice…”

“Huh? Did you say something?”

“I was thinking about what we’re doing. Have you decided, Harmony?”

“I’m voting right now. You can pick whatever, right, teacher?”

“Sure.”

Broadcast.

Broadcast…

Suddenly curious. How did the broadcast actually work? What was her style? Maybe that was how viewers slipped in.

After a moment, Harmony—granted party-leader powers via the request—clicked the top section: Team Six. The internal UI loaded smoothly, the surroundings peeled away, and suddenly we stood in a briefing room.

Ranked matchmaking was locked because we lacked levels, but normal matchmaking had popped up a message: hardcore users detected, so no beginner queue.

I knew that would happen.

“Ugh, I’m actually nervous now that I’m doing it again. A few years ago I tried on a computer and forgot the maps completely after so long. You okay, teacher?”

“I’ll manage somehow…”

“Yeah, that tracks.”

Ding.

Amid the noise, a majestic chime announced the match and a new map appeared: the bank. Three floors—two above, one below—with a complex layout.

Time limit: three minutes. After three rounds, sides flipped. First team to reach five wins won.

Harmony was still exclaiming in amazement beside me—something about how even regular games now used the same ranked system—and the waiting area slowly swelled with other players joining.

But—

“Please let me in! Please!”

“Huh? They’re in! Really? We actually pulled off a sim success?!”

“Nyangdan, we’re in—!!!”

…I didn’t expect that.

All their avatars were blindingly bright and utterly out of place for an FPS. Even as I stared in confusion, the different female avatars were waving and cheering at us like we’d crashed a fan meet-and-greet… us?

Wait a second.

“I’m Teacher Eugene!”

“Teacher! Little short but super kind, our Harmony noona! We’re counting on you—without you she might quit the game!”

“…Ah, I see. Understood.”

Inside the now-lively briefing room.

Harmony, looking completely at home, quickly explained the rules we had to follow for the sim. The others nodded along without hesitation.

In the old days, you couldn’t tell who was on the other side and people threw out every curse word imaginable. But in these VR games, with avatars present, decent players had become the norm—players’ actual speech and movement habits leaked through naturally.

After confirming the stream was smooth, Harmony added, “Location exposure is disabled, so even if someone on the opposing team is watching the broadcast, we won’t be shown the second the match starts. Should be fine…”

Crack.

With a distorted briefing echoing in my ear along with a new notification.

Except me.

Too many options to carry everything, so I just grabbed a couple of explosive grenades. Carrying around too much stuff felt bulky anyway.

Armor ratings and banpick began.

Final team composition:

“This combo feels almost like a ranked setup.”

“Can’t find a combination that’s impossible to break… did anyone grab weird stuff? Sticky bombs instead of smokes, or—”

“Nothing weird at all.”

“What about you, Harmony noona?”

“I went without thinking.”

“Ugh.”

Everyone laughed and chatted while I checked my own loadout… I hadn’t brought anything special. Everyone else’s armor and speed changed based on gadgets, but I was identical to before—except for the explosive launcher and spare ammo slung across my back.

And of course—

“Um… Teacher Eugene?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you running three speed and three armor?”

“I’m a hardcore user.”

“…Whoa?”

Four grenade slots, full stock.

Shared breaching charge.

Ballistic vest—standard heavy-duty gear.

Speed—my natural running ability.

“Any problem?”

It only took a second for the four of them to stare at me with identical expressions of “problem.”

Boo-woong.

A small disk-shaped drone materialized automatically outside the base camp. Everyone’s gaze dropped as the drone began moving in response to my controls, air jets hissing.

All corridors were sealed with panels, but narrow gaps allowed the drone to pass. Four drones slipped inside through the rear door, front door, and ventilation shafts.

One of them stayed put.

After parking it deliberately close to my spawn, I connected to the camera network and watched the others move.

On the second floor, one drone’s audio function activated. A storm of footsteps, wall reinforcements, and gunfire from the other drones flooded in.

Continuous shotgun blasts and sparking electricity crackled across the reinforced walls.

This was the so-called “construction” phase—defense players preparing an annoying environment for approaching attackers.

The three drones that survived the recon window were mine and two others positioned to relay enemy locations in real time.

“Bomb on the second floor. They’re still working on the construction, and they’re wearing ballistic vests. Watch for breaching charges, ADS attached… and electro claws. The last guy, I don’t know.”

“Scrambler gadget.”

“Oh, right. All five confirmed. I’m heading to the rear entrance—watch for spawn kills. Where are you going, Harmony?”

“I’m… just going to the side with more people.”

“Then follow us. Teacher?”

“I’ll loop around the parking lot to the bank.”

“Got it. Watch your rear!”

With the heavy voice of the support operator, five figures appeared amid the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠snowstorm over the city center.

Before pressing the real assault on the bank, the operators waited a moment to check for any barricade breaches or spawn kills, then began their careful ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠advance.

Three moved toward the rear entrance. The other two spawned from the front—one via the sewer, the other me toward the parking lot.

Click.

One round chambered. The .300 AAC ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Blackout mags held a lethal load and the ten spare magazines were packed tight in my pouch.

After confirming the weapon, I picked up the disk drone from the floor, shoved it into my multi-pouch, and—moved.

Actually, it was closer to sprinting.

───Bang!

Crack— the ceiling CCTV outside the parking lot exploded into shards and a figure vanished inside the building like sucked in.

From here on, I had no idea where the enemy was. I killed all sound, brought the weapon up, and began sweeping rooms where they might be hiding.

The parking lot itself was empty.

Before reaching the entry to the building, I focused every nerve in my ear. No loud noises. I pulled out the multi-pouch drone and started it.

“…”

Inside the vault. CCTV control room. Silence.

I exhaled once, charged the barricade, smashed it completely, and— in the same instant—hid myself deep in the sub-level one.

While the sound of collapsing barriers had my attention, I crossed paths with the teammate pushing from the cave side and headed toward the server-room stairs, intending to clear the entire underground.

But the next second—

“Underground! Enemy waiting behind the server entrance to the cave!”

A sharp gunshot echoed.

Eugene, circling inside the vault, immediately reacted. Sharp metal-on-metal sounds faded into the gunfire as she sprinted.

Upon reaching the control room, speed dropped sharply. Despite numerical advantage, the defender still held first fire, so we could easily end up 3 to 5 instead of 5 to 4.

After a brief hesitation, Eugene pulled out the recovered drone again.

A few seconds later, gunfire erupted above the server room.

The drone didn’t make it far before shattering, but that was all I needed.

My tail—swinging the explosive launcher behind me—passed it to my hand. I squeezed the trigger and fired a destruction round straight into the server-room wall.

And then the body moved.

Right before the wall exploded outward in fragments, Eugene leapt from the control room, slammed the ground hard, and pivoted sharply.

The target was the enemy hiding behind the server—only five meters away. Her agility let her cover that distance in a blink.

To scatter their aim, the destruction round boomed. Eugene took no shots and was tackled to the wall with a brutal impact.

“Kuhk!”

Even in the game, the impact was so jarring it nearly knocked me out. HP dropped below 20 and I collapsed face-first.

Before I could even recover, something in my vision—a throwing axe raised overhead—made me wonder: wouldn’t it have been better to die in combat instead of like this?

The next moment, a strangely gruesome sound rang out.

One player down.