Rifleman: A LitRPG / LitFPS Adventure (Battlegrounds Online Book 1) Read online

  RIFLEMAN

  ©2021 AETHON BOOKS

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  Aethon Books

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  Print and eBook formatting, and cover design by Steve Beaulieu. Artwork provided by Fernando Granea.

  Published by Aethon Books LLC.

  Aethon Books is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Thank You!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  I leaned back in my VR chair, adjusted the headrest, settled my arms along the side. It felt comfortable, familiar. Legs outstretched, leaning back at a good angle, arms loose and able to slide into the gloves. Leaning forward, I picked the cable up from where it draped across the armrest. Reaching back with one hand, pushing my lanky brown hair out of the way, I inserted the jack on the cable into the small port at the base of my neck, just to the side of my spine. You do it often enough, you can hit the port every time.

  I felt the familiar funny-bone jolt of the jack fixing into place. Twisting my neck, making sure the connection was tight, I laid back down. I felt the familiar weight of the jack and cord hanging from my neck. The cord fit nicely in the space between the chair and headrest, dangling with just enough slack.

  I slid my hands into the gloves, and the material expanded to fit tightly around the fingers, holding my hands in place. I’d heard that the new high-end chairs were easier to jack into, but I was pretty happy with what I had.

  It was all I could afford, after all.

  I could feel the small button just above my right index finger. Closing my eyes, I pushed up with the finger, tapping the VR system’s activation button. Another sharp jolt zipped through the cable jacked into my neck, energy flowing to and from my mind to the server mounted under the chair, and from there into the VRNet. Tiny pinpricks flooded my body. It felt kind of like when a foot was waking up from sitting on it too long.

  Just when the sensation intensified into pain, it faded.

  Eyes closed, I counted down the seconds. We all were taught to do that when jacking in.

  … three, two, one.

  I opened my eyes.

  Black. Everything was black.

  Then a bright white light resolved into the internet menu. In the year 2075, everything was done through the VRNet. There were multiple ways to access it. Most got in through wrist phones, small devices implanted in their non-dominant wrists. That was for everyday access—searches, purchases, that kind of thing. For immersive gaming, a VR chair and rig were required, as well as the neck port. It had taken years of saving, but I’d finally been able to afford the rig and implant.

  That was a couple years ago, and I’d been VR gaming ever since. All the games. Well, every single one I could afford. Which, sadly, wasn’t many. Most were expensive. The monthly fees, along with the many bonuses that could be bought, had ruined those games for me. I wasn’t rich. “Disposable income”? What a joke. No “freemium” games for me, not when I had to spend real money to buy upgrades in order to compete. It took real-world money to buy in-game items, just to play and unlock new content. What a rip-off.

  That wasn’t for me.

  All VR games had an in-game-to-real-world trade market. But without paying for upgrades, I couldn’t compete well enough to get the high-end—and high value—rewards. Just wasn’t worth it. I thought about quitting gaming altogether, and I almost did. But that’s when I heard about...

  “Battlegrounds Online?” David asked, his blue-tinged face looking skeptical in the hologram floating over my wrist. “Never heard of it.”

  “It’s new,” I said. “Just hit the market.”

  “Still never heard of it,” David said with a chuckle. “Means it’s crap. Some kind of war game? Where’s the fun in that? A little too real.”

  David’s eyes flicked rapidly as he looked off to the side, a sure sign he was scanning the ’net.

  “What the hell, man!” David exclaimed, eyes skimming over the game’s wiki.

  I already knew what it said, word for word. I’d spent enough time on it, trying to decide if I wanted to play. I didn’t have much of a life outside of gaming, and VR immersion games were massive time sinks. Jumping into one was a big commitment, especially something new and untested.

  “It takes place around 2020?” David said, more of a statement than a question. “But none of that gear is accurate. So it takes place in 2020, but they’re calling it ‘near future’? What does that even mean? Look at these guys! Are those even military uniforms? A guy in a mask? Made-up factions? This game is weird.”

  “Says the guy who plays a half-orc with a giant hammer,” I sighed, rolling my eyes and exaggerating the motion. The hologram is very detailed, but I wanted David to see every bit of my disdain.

  “Dude, Golden Realms of Lore is awesome,” David said with a chuckle.

  It was, I bitterly had to admit. The best game I’d played yet. Built around a fantasy world, Golden Realms of Lore had the players creating their own characters and adventuring into the wide and varied worl
d. But calling it “Golden” said it all. So much content had to be bought. It was a ton of fun, but I didn’t have access to the cash that David did. David was a top-tier player because he could afford to be.

  Me? Not so much.

  I also didn’t want to let David know how much I was looking forward to playing Battlegrounds Online. Especially because of the design. It reminded me of a toy line my grandfather had collected as a kid. Even as an adult collector, he still cherished those “definitely not dolls” G.I. Joe figurines.

  “What’s with the small servers? Only a hundred players,” David said, eyes looking back up to me. Or down, more accurately, from David’s perspective. I never could get used to how the hologram adjusted the view. “And the conversion rate? That’s pretty low for in-game to real money.”

  I shrugged. I was already tired of trying to justify my decision.

  “Hey, man,” David said, a minute of silence later. “If it’s what you want to play, go for it. Just going to miss playing every night with you.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I said with a smile. It was true.

  We had made a pretty good team.

  We chatted a bit longer before David had to hang up. David had Golden Realms of Lore to play, and for me, Battlegrounds Online was calling.

  I looked at the menus in the VRNet representation. Icons floated over the background, a new one I’d downloaded recently. Something to get me into the mood for this new game. Bright and shiny, it showed some of the old G.I. Joe and Cobra characters, the good and the bad guys. Made me smile, seeing those colorful characters. I couldn’t help but be excited.

  The Battlegrounds Online icon hovered. Finding that small button in the glove, I activated the game.

  Chapter Two

  “It’s the year 2021, and war has come to the world. Terrorists roam the countries, taking what they want. National armies can’t cope with the terrorists’ cutting-edge technological advantages. One of the strongest and deadliest terrorist organizations is known as Wyvern. Led by a man known only as the Black Dragon, swarms of the Wyvern’s Scales attack everywhere with no pattern. They don’t work for others; the Wyvern follow their own goals.”

  I watched the cutscene, amazed. It looked realistic, even with my low-grade VR rig. But that was to be expected. What I hadn’t expected was how brutal the fighting was. Most full immersion games had pain thresholds and gore settings. Not this one. The destruction was crazy. Blood, lots of blood. Which made sense for a game with guns. I watched the Wyvern attack whole cities. Buildings collapsing, people screaming. Odd-looking tanks and fast attack vehicles pounding through the streets, over icy plains, desert landscapes, and forests. Men dressed in strange armor. Robotic assailants. Unarmed citizens screamed and ran. Buildings exploded.

  “Wyvern is just one of many factions attempting to make the world their own. The nations of the world needed help. Help came in the form of a new international unit, the Tactical Operations Group.”

  Now the scene changed. Soldiers rushed into battle. Tanks, jets, and infantry arrived. From the air, I viewed a large-scale battle. Then the scene shifted to show soldiers in various colored clothing, armor, and tactical gear rushing through a building. No two soldiers looked alike.

  “This is the world you have chosen to join. Will it be as a highly trained special operations soldier, a Knight in a Tactical Operations Group, or as an operative aligned with Wyvern, the Iron Brigadiers, or one of the many terrorist organizations? You may even be a mercenary, joining the side that pays the most. The choice is yours.”

  The cutscene faded to black. When light appeared, I found myself in a relatively plain locker room. Gypsum board ceiling with flush mounted lights. Wooden benches between rows of green lockers. Directly in front of me was a mirror. Nothing special, just a mirror. The level of detail was pretty amazing, perfect. I wasn’t that impressed.

  A locker room? That was the first thing players in Battlegrounds Online saw? And a basic looking one at that.

  Then I saw the prompt.

  In plain font, the words floated superimposed over the locker room. The letters kind of transparent.

  WOULD YOU LIKE TO START CHARACTER CREATION?

  There was no YES or NO button, so I did what I normally would do in a full immersion game. I thought of the answer.

  The prompt faded.

  An image appeared in the mirror. I took a step closer. On the glassy surface, I could see myself. Not as I normally appeared, not quite. It was my face, recognizable, but not my body. In real life, I wasn’t in the best shape. Spent most of the time in a gaming chair, true, but I wasn’t fat. Had a bit of a gut forming. But didn’t have the drive to go to the gym. The image in the mirror didn’t have the gut or any other flab. The image was buff. This was the body I would have if I worked out regularly.

  It was a soldier’s body. And I liked what I saw.

  Maybe if I had that body, I’d do better with the ladies.

  Probably not.

  I laughed, and the sound echoed in the empty locker room.

  I raised my right arm; the reflection did the same.

  WOULD YOU LIKE TO CUSTOMIZE YOUR AVATAR?

  The words appeared in front of my face, making me jump in surprise. I thought, Yes.

  More prompts appeared.

  HEAD. TATTOOS. HAIR. BODY.

  Character creation has always been one of my favorite parts of any game. Even non-VR games. I’ve made so many different characters through the years, male and female, different races. Some games, I did nothing but create characters.

  Full immersion VR had changed things somewhat. As great as it was, in some ways it was limiting.

  VR tech utilized the players’ base features to begin with. Even with tons of options, the base would always be the player’s real face. Maybe a bit handsomer—sometimes a lot handsomer—but the original features could always be recognized by someone that knew the player in real life. Because of that, I never really played around with the feature customization options. It was the rest of the creation process that I enjoyed.

  But this was a more real-life centric game, which was changing my approach. In other games—usually sci-fi or fantasy—I played some kind of non-human character. Not an option here, so I decided to change myself up a bit.

  My avatar already had a muscular body, so I skipped that part. No need to fix what had already been improved. Wasn’t a fan of tattoos; another easy skip. I scrolled through all the various options for the head. Nose, eye color, mouth, scars, larger or smaller ears, larger or smaller eyes. My face quickly morphed through all the changes. There were a lot of options. I finally just set it to default again and added a full beard.

  Next was hair. Oh snap, were there options. This was a military game, so I’d expected only a handful of choices. There’s only so many ways you can do a buzz cut. But then the option existed to play as one of the terrorist or mercenary factions. I couldn’t see terrorists caring about keeping their hair high and tight.

  I had considered playing a terrorist faction, but only briefly. Very briefly. I’d gotten into Battlegrounds because of my grandfather’s love of the old G.I. Joe property. No way was I joining the bad guys.

  After choosing hair that was a little grown out, not a buzz, and keeping my natural brown hair and eye colors, I accepted the changes.

  I stared at the reflection in the mirror. Not bad, I thought. The beard made me look a little tougher. I’d never thought about growing one, but now… maybe I would.

  What next? I looked around the locker. There were no prompts for picking my class—or Primary Operational Specialty, as the game called them. Not even for choosing my starting faction. Rows of lockers, nothing special about those, and wooden benches. Just one door at the far end.

  With a shrug, I walked over to the door. Plain, metal, painted a light green to match the ceramic tiles on the floors and walls of the locker room. A stainless steel pull handle.

  Not given any other choices, I pulled the handle.

&nb
sp; I was blinded by a bright light.

  Blinking my eyes rapidly, hand raised to shield them, I heard a voice. Rough, hard, and happy, barking a laugh.

  “Well, well, looks like today is my lucky day.”

  The spots in front of my eyes disappeared and I took a quick look around. The locker room was gone, replaced by grass and a wooden fence, about eight feet high. A collection of tables was set up within the enclosure. Made of wood, they ranged from shoulder height all the way down to a couple inches off the ground. The fence ran straight down, ending in a large sand hill many yards away. Thin pairs of wires ran the same distance, one set lined up with each table. Hanging from the wires at different intervals were shooting targets. Black in the shape of a human torso with white lines shrinking to a small bullseye.

  A firing range.

  “It’s been a bit since I had some fresh meat,” the voice said.

  I turned to see a very large man staring happily at me. It wasn’t a joyful happy but more of a predator happy to see its next meal. He wore a plain white T-shirt, green khaki pants and a hat to match, and black tactical boots.

  His arms, with some rather impressive muscles, were crossed over his chest.

  “Don’t just stand there, fresh meat,” he said, a growing note of menace in his voice. “I don’t have all day.”