Central Hub

'My head is throbbing,' a lightbulb suspiciously hung over the futon. Flies butted heads trying to land. He wondered with a forearm to his head, '-studying for the exams is my top priority,' he turned towards a little cupboard next to the balcony. Inside were books, most only history, and art. "Music isn't cutting it," he sighed to a constant deluge of dark thoughts.

'-It's not working,' he clambered to sit, 'I don't envy my situation,' he backed and leaned against a cold-white wall, '-I wonder if my account is still active,' the SCHD lit, '-doesn't hurt to get lost once in a while,' the home button held to spawn a separate interface alongside a notification, [Do you wished to Virtualize?]

'Escaping reality,' eyes shut, '-I need to get my mind off things. Sitting around and wallowing in self-pity won't bring about change.'[Confirmed] A shining light dazzled the room and reached out from underneath the door, casual washroom guests pondered the possibility of alien abduction.

A tunnel of pictures, small icons, diagrams, and more spirited the psyche away. A slideshow of things to come flooded the mind without warning. The physical body dropped.

"It worked," the eyes reopened inside a well-illuminated room. The center held a giant circular spiral filled with windows spouting words and audio. News of different games and announcements filled the place. Blue hue being most prominent, the sky displayed night. Buildings outside seemed to be made of blocks of numbers and headed up towards the eternal clear night sky.

'I see,' he awoke on a bench. People ambled past. Differing clicks entertained different activities. Just to name a few; some chatted, others sang, and a few danced. The overall experience was to hang out. [Welcome to the Central Hub] wrote atop the spiral.

'Black gloves,' he stood and scanned his outfit, '-black pants and a black leather jacket.' A mid-air swipe brought the HIF, acronym for Hyde-interface. Status and stats of the current host were displayed. 'I've still got my items from years ago,' a metal tag around the neck read. *Tester ID: 001.*

'I've still got this old thing,' he cupped the tag, '-I'm the first to ever play Manticore thanks to father's connections,' he smiled. 'It's been more than half a decade since I last played. Not that it matters now.' Troubles of the real world felt fake, once, inside the virtual realm, the outside didn't affect much.

Robots rolled to show announcements around the current transparent floor. He caught a few glimpses to be distracted by the floor underneath; the secondary hub. One where fantasy games, advertisements, and notices for the tournament whelmed.

'Using portals to play unlocked games.' He walked down a corridor of many game titles and how popular it was. Player count directed the game's popularity. The counter atop the game portals showed the current online players.

'Manticore,' the pace increased, '-where is it,' he scanned left to right till a crowd of people guarding to one of the games. 'Really,' he stopped and stared, said crowd was before Manticore.

"Excuse me."

"What is it?" returned a tall and muscular man with glasses and a mohawk.

"I'd like to pass if it's not much trouble," he replied nervously. Being somewhat soft-spoken didn't help his case.

"The boy wants to play a game," mocked a lady dressed in a skimpy version of a maid's outfit. A gun holstered on her thigh-high leggings. "What if the big man says no?" she strongly stepped forward, "-what will you do about it?" her long black hair parted down the middle. Almond-shaped eyes and a beauty mark underneath the left eye watched his every move, she was a knock-out by all standards.

'N-nothing will h-happen,' before articulating the words he thought, *-are you going to stand by and take this?* cried the subconscious.

"Awe, you scared him," laughed another tall man with orange hair and a skull-filled skater's helmet.

"The kid shat himself," thundered the muscular man with chuckles reminiscent of a hammer against a nail.

"Hey," the lady shoved him aside, "-why are you silent?" she asked in a disgusted tone.

He stumbled, "d-don't p-push me," came a pathetic mumble and faced the floor.

"What you say?" squinted the orange-haired man, "-care to repeat what you said?" he demanded in an intimidating accent.

"I said," he glanced, "-don't…"

"Move out of the way," a team of five spawned from the portal. Their presence interjected the exchange. The leader glared at those blocking the Portal. An emblem of a Pentagram laid on their chest, "-idiots," voiced one of the members.

"Are you ok?" a friendly-looking adolescent rushed to Sayer's side, "-don't mind them, these kinds of people crawl around the hub. Falling into their trap will only bring about the problem, don't worry," he pointed to a moderator, "-if they ever harass you, just signal that man over there."

"Tim, let's move," ordered the leader.

"Sorry, I have to go, be sure to take care now," he smiled and left.

Startled and ashamed, the group dispersed. The mention of Moderators did its job. 'That was Amateur ranked team: Pega. They were knocked out of the running for Gian's tournament a few months back.' He dusted off his pants, '-how embarrassing. I'm as big of a coward here as I am in the real world. So pathetic,' he reached for a game portal.

"Wait a moment," cold hands grasp and pulled his arms, "-our business has yet to be settled," winked the lady. "-Muscle-head here wants to have a one-versus-one, in Manticore," the large man wanted to fight and showed so by cracking his knuckles.

"Modera-," trying to scream did nothing, they briskly shoved him into the Portal.

*Boof,* the body landed harshly. Pain shot throughout his limbs, the eyes narrowed,'-the pain was real.' The trio of rogues smugly glared down at the fallen boy. It was common for people to go out of their way to ruin the experience of the virtual world for others.

The décor changed from futuristic to rusty and tough looking. An invocation of emotions shared by wars so many centuries ago. Bullet holes and skull decals were plastered on bricked walls, the floor matched the familiarity of decrepit and desolate.

"Hey, dude, are you ok?" asked a bystander.

"He's fine," fired the lady, "-just tripped that's all. Dummy here is a clumsy one," she wrapped her arms around his shoulder as if a snake snuffling to its prey before feasting.

"You sure you're alright?" asked the man with a genuine look of concern.

"We want to be friends, don't dare say anything that might get you in trouble," she whispered in contempt.

"I-I'm f-fine t-these g-guys a-are my friends," he nervously replied.

"Are you sure?" he pressed on sensing the trouble.

"He said he's our friend, right? Don't get involved," added the musclehead.

"If you say so," he shrugged and backed off.

'Why,' contempt to what led to this situation blamed on his weakness. '-I'm worthless.' The head shook in disagreement, '-I can't log out. The HIF might cause more trouble. If they want a one-versus-one, I'll tag along.'

"Host the lobby already," ordered the lady choking Sayer. "You're quite good-looking, aren't you?" her free hand maliciously traveled down his chest.

"Let's n-not go down that path," he caught her arm and watched with a woeful profound look. She shook her head and turned towards the other two.

"Hosted," cheered the orange-haired man, "-you're on the Counter-Terrorist side. It's A-site. The sniper towers are restricted. Don't worry about weapons, you'll have all the guns dropped at the start of each round."

"O-ok," a scanner transported the players to said part of Vode.

'The pain limiter is off,' read the server settings, '-any damage inflicted will be felt the same as if it were done in the real world. Escaping reality,' the map loaded and he spawned wearing the same outfit, '-I knew it was foolish to try and play because I saw a game.' Various weapons from assault rifles to snipers and even submachine guns rested on the wall.

'They're heavy,' he held a Revolver named RS-2. Six bullets, heavy on the recoil and weight. *BANG,* a pull of the trigger shot back the arms and dropped the weapon. Pain pulsed across the arms; the hands felt numb. [Get ready, we're coming] wrote in the chat. The field-of-view had a map on the top left, a health bar on the bottom right, and players alive on top.

'Three versus one. What else did I expect?' he made for an SMG named STS-1 which held 25 bullets. Light and low on recoil with a red-dot sight, a preferred weapon for beginners. The secondary gun was a silenced pistol named TS-2 holding 12 bullets. 'Time to play.'

The site had two access points. A long road to the left side whilst an old railway tracks on the right that went all the way into the middle. 'Three versus one, they're going to run and gun, I can feel it. I better hide in one of the abandoned buildings next to the road,' he sat and backed against a shattered window, the match began.

'They're here.' It didn't take long. Footsteps and heavy movements took to the road. *Creek,* '-this is bad, one's checking the abandoned buildings. If it's anything like how the game was before, then I got a few minutes. They have to check the corners and move. There's one more, I'd guess the big guy is surveying the road.'

"Hello," followed by the sound of an automatic weapon letting loose.

'STOP IT,' he cried in pain and spawned. *Hiding isn't going to do anything,* wrote in chat, the counter displayed 1 T – 0 CT. 'I didn't even fire my gun,' round after round, the same thing happened. Shot in the head, rattled by an SMG, or destroyed by a Machine-gun the musclehead used.

14 T – 0 CT, '-I feel like shit,' he panted, '-I'm on my way to death,' the hands trembled. "Gotcha," they peeked from the Road. '-breathe and SHOOT.' *PANG,* the bullet deflected and missed. *BANG.*

[15 T – 0 CT] 'I'm sure I shot him in the head,' the knees buckled. The side-chat kept on mocking how bad he was. 'Is there nothing I can do?' the weapons watched solemnly; '-I just want to kill one of them.' To the far-right, a weapon called for his attention, the DLS-40; a silenced sniper-rifle with four shots. The heaviest out of the given arsenal and certainly the toughest to use.

'The gun Pheelo used in the last Gian tournament. Ever since then, none has touched it since the 7X3T was released. A lighter, more reliable rifle with less armor penetration. 'Screw it,' he walked to the A-site with barely the strength to carry the gun. The latter ultimately rested on a crate and scoped down the Road.

'Focus,' he thought and waited. A head barely showed, *bang,* trigger pulled, *SPLAT,* [Player One killed Jenifer with a headshot] flashed shown on the feed. 'I GOT ONE!' he cheered. *Bang,* the team snuck in from the other side. [16 T – 0 CT] the match ended.

'This is my chance to escaped,' he picked the logout button and left. [Goodbye] said the interface. He awoke to loud coughs and blurry vision.

'This headache,' eyes strained, '-virtualizing with an older model SCHD is painful and potentially deadly. Removing that pain-limiter did a number on my real body' blood spat across the pitch-black room.

'Pros and people dedicated to the game are incredible,' he fell into his futon. 'I'm somewhat happy instead of feeling down at the unfairness. The feeling I got when I pull the trigger, still the same as when I first virtualized into Mantis.'

Time showed 21:00, '-I better make something to eat…' the mood worsened, '-never mind, I'd rather sleep. Not worth the effort. Not since I don't feel hungry.' Thoughts about the next day wandered, '-tomorrow I visit the hospital, pay bills, return home, and study. The match cost me the last of my data. It was fun while it lasted. I better head to the library instead – they'll have books on hand I can use.'