Reever felt a familiar static buzzing at the back of his mind. It pulsed once, like a bubble drifting upward through calm water. Then a soft metallic chime echoed inside his skull. A new message unfolded in bright glowing text.
[Communication privileges restored. You may now speak to all units you have insubordinated.]
Reever blinked. He read it twice just to be sure it was real. Slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted. For the first time since being dumped into this ancient game system, he could finally speak to the players he dragged along with him.
Inside his mind, B stirred like a grumpy roommate waking up only to complain.
"Finally," B said. "They basically gave you a quest. Go get subordinates."
Reever scoffed in thought. "There is no difference between subordinates and partners if I have the bigger hand."
"That is exactly what a tyrant says," B replied. "Which also makes it perfect for you."
Reever ignored him. His small smile must have been noticeable because the trembling player beside him kept sneaking confused glances, like he was trying to decide if Reever looked happy in a comforting way or in a serial killer way.
The player swallowed loudly. "Sir, you look happy. Should I be worried or should I also be happy?"
Reever considered teasing him but decided the man already looked close to passing out.
"No need to panic. My comms were not working earlier. I can talk now."
The player let out a breath so heavy it felt like he had been holding it for years.
Reever continued, "Player Name is bot067. I am here for fun. This account is just my side one. My real account is the main deal. The name on that one is Reever."
Silence fell so sharp that even the game wind seemed to stop.
The player stared at him, mouth open, eyes huge. "Wait. The Reever? The one? The legend? The monster in human form? The squad killer? That Reever?"
Reever tilted his head calmly. "You seem excited."
"Excited?" the player could have climbed on him like a tree if that were possible. "I grew up watching clips of you wiping entire lobbies alone. Nobody plays like you. Nobody. I cannot believe I am breathing the same air as you."
Inside Reever's mind, B coughed loudly. "Impersonating yourself. Very bold. Very stupid."
"I am advertising my past self. It is still me. Do not interfere," Reever answered mentally.
"Fine," B said. "But if the real you from this timeline meets you, the universe might crash."
Reever smirked. "Do not reveal my secret."
The player crossed his heart like he was swearing loyalty to an ancient god. "I swear. Not a word. My lips are locked. My soul is sealed. My brain is under protection."
"Good," Reever said. "So, what is your name?"
The player straightened up. "Jack. That is my real one. But my player name is Jack the Slayer. Or just Slayer."
Reever raised an eyebrow. Jack sighed at himself. "Yes, I know. I watched a movie back in the days about a man named Jack the Slayer. He hunted giants and magic beans. The name stuck before I realized how ridiculous it sounds."
Reever laughed, and the tension finally loosened. "Slayer it is. I hope to see you slay the players."
They continued on, heading toward the Standoff area. Reever wanted wheels. Not just wheels. He wanted something smooth and fast, something cool enough to enjoy this old world properly.
They were not even close when trouble found them.
Several players peeked out from behind buildings, watching Reever and Jack with the confidence of people who had no idea they were out of their league. Before Reever could finish his sigh, they rushed out, shouting bravely.
Reever lifted his weapon.
A single shot. One dropped.
A second player tried to flank. One shot. Down.
A third attempted a heroic leap. A short burst threw him straight into the dirt.
Jack watched in pure awe as Reever casually swept aside every challenger like someone shooing insects away from a picnic.
Reever made sure Jack saw all of it. He definitely did.
B hummed. "Showing off for your new subordinate or partner with the smaller hand than you as you have claimed. Very noble."
"He needs proof that I am me, the legendary Reever. " Reever replied shamelessly.
"And what will you do when you meet the Reever of this timeline?" B asked. "Ever imagine the chaos?"
Reever smiled. "Easy. We will have an epic gun battle. I am actually excited for it."
Jack ran to Reever's side, completely blown away. "Boss, that was insane. You barely even aimed. You just lifted your hand and they died."
"Experience. One day with enough experience, slaying even legendary players would be an easy cake." Reever said simply.
The buildings of Standoff came into view. Reever scanned the area and spotted a silver glimmer behind a broken fence. The shape was unmistakable.
A hover bike.
A rare relic in this old game. Too beautiful for this 2018 stage.
Reever felt pure joy. Lady Luck had returned. And she brought a gift.
He hopped onto the bike like someone claiming his throne. Jack jumped on behind him, practically glowing with excitement.
"We head for the nearest loot drops," Reever said. "I want to find a mythic weapon for my partner." He glanced at Jack. "I mean partner. Not subordinate. Damn you B for making me confuse names."
Jack pretended he did not hear the slip.
Reever revved the bike. The engine hummed with a deep, smooth sound.
The world blurred as they shot forward. The old streets of Standoff flew past them in streaks of color.
Somewhere inside his mind, B said something that was probably wise to prove that he was not a fun killer and can give advises for safety.
Reever ignored him.
For the first time since being thrown into this outdated era of gaming, Reever felt alive again.
And ahead of them, the loot drops waited.
Ready to be taken. Ready for him and his right hand man.