He took a swig of the energy drink while he scrolled through the game options until he found Slaughterhouse. He put the drink down, scratched his nose before indicating he was ready. The game launched. A list appeared with the following options: Sniper, Scout, Recon, Assault, Warrior, Mercenary, Heavy Weapons, Demolition, Medic, and Spec Ops. Spencer selected the last one and a weapons menu appeared. His preferences were ready: main weapon: UMP45; sidearm, an M93 Raffica; and his special equipment — a C-4 explosive pack. He clicked ‘Accept’. There was a three second shift as the screen changed; then he was in the game.
Spencer was in a forest of fir trees that gently swayed to an imaginary breeze. Through the stereophonic headset, Spencer could hear chirping birds, the rustle of a chipmunk, and sporadic gunfire. Whenever he moved, he could hear the crunch of dirt and twigs beneath his feet. Spencer looked around to determine where he was located. Some game modes included a map in the upper left corner of his view, but one of the rules of Slaughterhouse was no map. Judging from an outcropping of rock that snipers liked to inhabit, he knew he was somewhere near the center of the action. Good. Now he had to decide: stay low or go for the high ground. He opted to stay low.
He ran down a dirt pathway to his left and immediately encountered his first foe. A short burst from the UMP dropped him. Spencer smiled. He continued forward more cautiously and ran into two more enemies waiting for him. Spencer was ready. He anticipated the first player would alert anyone behind him. The UMP barked out two more bursts and he took them both down. He rushed forward, wrapped around a bend in the path and hid in the narrow corner of a rocky outcropping to change magazines. A moment later, two more players rushed forward looking for him. Spencer's ambush dropped them both.
He left his rocky hiding place. Time for high ground, he decided, and climbed a rope ladder leading to the treetops.
As soon as he reached the top, bullets ricocheted around him. He rushed for cover, then tossed his C-4 pack over the ledge. He waited a second then clicked the remote. BOOM! His screen indicated two more kills. He received a seven kill-streak bonus and another bonus for getting so many kills during his first spawn. The more kills he achieved in a single lifetime, the more rewards he received. Spencer was racking them in. Twelve seconds in and he had already doubled the top player's score.
When the game ended, Spencer had 32 kills and only three deaths. Now for his favorite part. The lobby taunts. Whenever someone spoke, their name lit up on Spencer's screen.
“You fuckin' faggot,” shouted MyGunsRBettr. “There's no way you could've shot me that fast unless you're glitching.”
“He's gotta be glitching,” agreed IWannaKillPuppies.
Spencer smiled. People often thought he was using cheats, auto-aims that gave instant head shots, but he never did. It was pure skill.
“If I had you on a real battlefield, it would be a different story,” MyGunsRBettr continued.
Spencer laughed. He loved hearing the frustration in the older player's voices, many of whom were ex-military.
“There's no fuckin' kill streaks in real life!” MyGunsRBettr shouted.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Spencer taunted.
Kill streaks enhanced his speed, increased his weapon damage, or gave him better ammunition, such as explosive rounds. Basically, the more kills he racked up, the deadlier he became.
“You faggot,” MyGunsRBettr repeated before signing off. Spencer laughed as the name disappeared from the player list.
“I'm gonna rape you next round, you glitchin' asshole,” taunted IWannaKillPuppies.
“Bring it,” Spencer replied.
When the following round ended, Spencer had 26 kills and 5 deaths. IWannaKillPuppies disappeared halfway through the match when he was only 3 and 11.
“Time to find new meat,” mused Spencer. He quit Slaughterhouse and scanned through the menu until he decided on Bloodlust.
Bloodlust was a single player free-for-all that only allowed close range and melee weapons. Spencer chose a .44 Automag for short range, and ‘The Punisher’, a large machete for some serious hack and slash.
The maps in Bloodlust were small and the key was to keep moving or die. He launched into a game and found himself in dense jungle. He checked the board and found seven other players along for the action. To his left, he heard the sound of a stream. He knew it would be the main avenue of action.
Spencer had only moved a few feet when he heard someone thrashing through the jungle. A moment later, someone was randomly firing just ahead of him. Spencer sprinted forward. He was making too much noise to hear Spencer who swung ‘The Punisher’ and severed his head.
A few seconds later, he arrived at the stream and peered through the foliage. Already he could see the water turning red. A moment later, a body floated past. Then just across the stream — movement. He aimed his .44 and waited for a clear shot, but it didn't happen. Spencer couldn't wait too long or someone might sneak up behind him. He decided to chance it. He fired three rounds where he thought he'd seen the movement. His screen indicated a kill and a second later, a body fell into the water.
He reloaded and quickly crossed the stream. He ran into another soldier looking for the source of the shot. Boom! The Automag took him down.
Spencer decided to risk climbing a tree. He holstered his weapons and shimmied up as fast as he could. From his new vantage point, he could see movement all around him in the jungle. He killed five more people before they discovered his hiding place and killed him.
Spencer respawned in a new location and began the hunt again. This time, he stayed upriver and whenever two other foes engaged, he would pick off the winner. Sometimes he got lucky and killed them both before they could kill each other. Amateurs.
Spencer ended the game with a 19-9 kill/death ratio. Not bad.
He usually didn't get as many taunts in the free-for-all matches, but sometimes someone took offense. The guy's name was Shogun-Jay and he was not happy. Spencer received a nemesis medal for killing Shogun-Jay more than eight times in a single match. The medal had his opponent's name scratched onto a bloody dog tag.
“Hey, motherfucker. How'd you kill me so many times?” demanded Shogun-Jay. “I'm talking to you, Killerprime.” Killerprime was Spencer's online handle.
“I guess I'm just that good,” replied Spencer.
“That good at sucking cock.”
“No, I'm that good at making you suck mine, bitch.” Spencer knew how to piss off his opponents.
“You probably don't even have hair on your crotch, you little faggot.”
“That's because all my pubes are stuck in your teeth,” Spencer laughed.
“You little motherfucker. You're lucky I'm in Venezuela defending your ass.”
“I hope you're better at killing in real life than you are in the game.”
“Listen, you little asshole. You better hope that you never have to face what I've had to face, cuz your bullshit bunny-hopping techniques won't mean shit in real life. It isn't like the game. There are no respawns. When you die, you…” suddenly Spencer could tell the guy was choked up, “…you stay dead.”
For a moment Spencer wondered if Shogun-Jay was serious. Then he realized he was just being played. This guy was probably faking it, trying to garner sympathy. Spencer had no sympathy; he only had death and humiliation to dispense.
“Whatever,” Spencer replied.