Tetris

I stepped back into the chaos of Zone Y. Neon signs buzzed and flickered above shady shops lined wall-to-wall—gun dealers, illegal mod booths, underground clinics. One place was selling grenade launchers like candy.

I needed a weapon. Something cheap, reliable. Maybe a compact revolver or a low-tier plasma piece.

Then I noticed a crowd gathering near one of the plaza stages.

I wandered over, curiosity dragging me.

"Welcome, ladies and gents!!" A guy in a flashy red coat shouted on stage, LED shades pulsing on his face as he spoke into a mic.

"For today's special event—we'll be holding a competition!!"

The crowd erupted in cheers.

"We've managed to dig up a piece of ancient tech from the old world! I'm talkin' vintage! Real pre-Neurolink era!"

He turned dramatically. "Bring it out!"

Someone next to him pulled off a ragged sheet.

My eyes widened. That was… "No way…"

The crowd murmured in awe.

"This, my friends, is an original Tetris arcade machine! One of the first ever puzzle games. Built for brain freaks and reflex gods."

He slapped the dusty side of the cabinet.

"Rules are simple. Beat the current high score of 999,999, and you win…"

He raised a hand. "Drumroll please!"

A girl in the back banged two pipes together.

"…a fresh, fully-loaded K47-B Vulture!"

The screen behind him lit up with a rotating image of the gun—sleek, lightweight, smart-tracking with thermal sights and anti-armor rounds.

The crowd whistled and gasped.

"I don't need to tell you what this baby can do. One burst can melt a mech's face off at mid-range. Ex military grade. Restricted class."

He leaned forward.

"So… who's feeling lucky today?"

People started lining up.

Some of them had cybernetic mods—enhanced reflexes, twitch-speed eye tracking, synaptic amplifiers. Didn't help much. Most barely scratched 400k before the blocks buried them.

"Oof! That's rough, buddy," the host shouted as one guy backed off in shame. "C'mon! Are you even trying?! We need a real gamer up here!"

A guy with chrome arms stepped up. Fast. Precise. He hit 999,998.

The crowd screamed.

"Ahhhhh!!"

"Bro just needed one more line!"

"Painful!!"

He walked off, jaw clenched.

The host looked around. "Is there no one else?!"

I stepped forward.

"I'll try."

Some people chuckled. The host raised a brow. "Hah? You sure, pal?"

Truth was, I'd hacked over a hundred of these machines back in the old world. Knew every trick. Every input quirk. Every debug command.

The host smirked. "Alright then. Let's see what you got."

I sat. Rested my hands on the greasy old controls. The screen flickered to life.

Tetris.

Let's dance.

The blocks started falling. I activated an invisible override—something no one would notice. A little tilt here, a slowdown there. Just enough.

"Hey, he's already at 500k!"

"600k!!"

"Wait—how's he moving that fast?!"

"800k!"

"900k!!"

I didn't flinch. Just kept going. Every piece dropped exactly where I needed it.

999,990.

999,995.

999,998.

Then—click.

1,000,000.

The screen flashed. Music played.

The crowd exploded.

"WOOOOO!!!"

"HE DID IT!!"

"WE GOT A WINNER!!!"

The host held up my arm like I just won a championship match.

"Ladies and gentlemen—give it up! We have a new Tetris Champion!!"

* * *

I walked the streets of Zone Y, the black market district. Neon signs buzzed overhead, casting flickering shadows on the wet pavement. Vendors shouted over each other, peddling everything from illegal cyberware to vintage tech.

In my hand was the K47-B Vulture, the prize from the Tetris competition. It was sleek, with a matte black finish and a grip that molded perfectly to my hand. The smart-tracking system was top-tier, and the thermal sights would be invaluable.

I needed more ammo before heading back. I stopped by a vendor, exchanged some credits, and secured a few extra mags.

Then, I made my way back to the fake ID shop. The forger looked up as I entered.

"You're back," he said.

"Yeah," I replied. "Is it done?"

He handed me a small holographic plate. The ID glowed yellow.

I sighed at the color. "This is legit, right? Perfectly forged?"

He nodded. "You're on the official list now."

"Perfect," I said, pocketing the ID. "I'll be back if I need anything else."

I stepped out into the neon-lit streets, the hum of the city filling my ears.

At least I got a gun, I thought, gripping the Vulture a little tighter as I made my way back toward the workshop. 

The city never slept—sirens echoed in the distance, hovercrafts zipped through the sky, and neon ads flickered with promises no one believed anymore.