Dungeon Sniper

I was murdered by my best friend.

That night, a celebratory party was planned for me and my partner. We had just won the Duos' World Tournament for Gunners' Royale, an immensely popular first-person-shooter. Two champions, twenty million dollars shared equally between us. I was twenty-five years old, and life had never looked brighter and more promising.

Until that night.

I was just about to leave for the party when the doorbell to my apartment rang. I opened the door to see my partner, Kyle Bodkin, standing with a champagne bottle in his hand and a broad smile on his face. He, like me, was dressed in a fancy suit—Armani, I presumed. He was even wearing white gloves, and I thought to myself someone had come prepared, too prepared even.

"There's my favorite sniper," said Kyle, entering my apartment even before I asked him to come in. That was cool. We were close, almost like brothers, after all. Meanwhile, I was thinking about whether I should employ someone to answer the door for me at the mansion I would be living next month. What could I say? I felt good. I felt happy.

"What are you doing here? We were supposed to meet at the party," I said as I closed the door behind me.

"Wanted to talk some stuff before all the partying and getting wild," said Kyle, walking across my small living room and taking out two glasses from the kitchen shelf. He poured champagne into them and came back to where I stood to hand me one.

"What is it? Shoot," I said as I took one of the glasses, grinning a little at my lame pun at the end. We were gunners, the best shooters in the world, or at least in the world of gaming.

"First, a toast," said Kyle, lifting his glass.

"I was going to drive to the party," I said, hesitating a little.

"Come on, it's only one glass, and it's a freaking champagne, not a scotch," said Kyle, waving me off.

I nodded and slugged the entire glass in one gulp. I saw that Kyle did not drink his, but I did not think much of it at the moment.

"To the world's best sniper," said Kyle with a smile.

"To the world's best spotter," I said, lifting my empty glass.

"I cover for your a.s.s, I think I deserve more than just a 'spotter,'" said Kyle, putting down the full glass on the coffee table. How long was he going to stall here? The part was about to start. I was about to call him out to empty his when my legs gave away and the world swayed in front of me.

"Whoa, you all right there, buddy?" said Kyle, not reaching for me to help or anything.

"This champagne is really strong," I said, or I wanted to. Instead, my tongue had turned into a stone, and I gagged, first confusedly, and then desperately.

Holding my throat, I fell, or rather crumbled, face down. I wriggled around just barely to turn my head with my cheek pressed against the floor. Kyle still had not moved to help me up. He was standing, staring me down, while I lost any and every sense of my body and sank like a rock into a bottomless pit. And then I could no longer see him as he walked out of my view and started walking around my apartment.

"What's happening," I grunted inaudibly.

"What was that? You're wondering what's happening right now?" came Kyle's voice from somewhere. My ears rang, and my vision was getting blurrier by seconds. I knew I was about to pass out—even worse, I was dying.

My cloudy, dull eyes then caught the empty wine glass lying on the floor. I remembered that Kyle never drank the champagne.

I understood how. But not why.

"Why?" I called out desperately. I could feel my breaths becoming shallower and more broken.

Then Kyle's face appeared out of nowhere, at nose length in front of my face.

"Did you ask why? Is that what I heard?" whispered Kyle next to my ear. His voice sounded so distant, and cold.

"As far as I'm concerned, I wasn't here. No fingerprints, no security camera, no phone call, message, anything."

Kyle got up and I could see him lifting up the champagne bottle.

"Your history of bipolar disorder was extremely helpful. Thanks for sharing that with me, by the way. All right, here's what happened this evening. You were happy yesterday, and you were sad today. So you threw the pill into the champagne and went out with a style. You, my buddy, are a tragic hero, who died as the world's best professional gamer."

Some sort of instinct was telling me that my last breath was coming nearer. But Kyle still did not answer my question.

"Why?" I breathed again, not even a grunt this time. Just an airy gasp escaping my body.

Kyle, however, took the cue and answered nonchalantly, if not cheerily.

"As to why, simple. Money. Ten million dollars is good money. Twenty million, now, that's just more money."

I cursed bitterly as my last breath left my body, and I blacked out.

.

.

.

With a blink of an eye, I was sitting on a chair facing two people in what seemed to be a spacious office with a minimalist design. Aside from my chair, there was only one other object in the room, a desk, and behind it sat a blonde, bespectacled woman, thirty-ish, beautiful in her own stern, intelligent way. Standing next to her was a youthful, smiling man with a long hair and beard—looking very familiar if I might add. Both were dressed smartly in formal suits.

"You must be very confused right now. Would you like some tea?" asked the woman, and before I even answered I realized that I was holding a steamy cup of tea in my hand.

With a start as if jolted by a bolt of lightning, I almost jumped out of my chair and began to blabber my thoughts out aloud.

"I was at my apartment... and then I drank... Kyle! He drugged me and—"

"Killed you, yes. Look, we don't have much time, so I'll explain everything to you first. Then we'll talk... for about a minute. Will that be all right?" said the woman impatiently as she checked her gold watch.

I blinked.

"Sure," I shrugged.

She had that air of authority around her. I had no choice but to oblige.

"Right now, you are sitting for a job interview."

"What—"

"Don't interrupt me. You'll have a chance to ask questions later."

"A question," corrected the long-haired bearded man gently with an apologetic smile.

"We're really pressed for time here," he added.

I looked between the two pleasant-looking, but eerily intimidating, duo and nodded dubiously for them to continue.

"Uh-huh. Of course, time's money. Please go on," I said with an uncomprehending frown.

"We really like your reflexes and decision-making skills. Of course, physically, soldiers and trained federal agents make more sense, but they're not accustomed to the setting at hand."

"And they're the experts at adapting to any environment given, but simulations tell us that you're the man for the job, so," smiled the bearded dude. Something about his smile was oddly comforting.

I was nodding and smiling back at their fast-paced dialogue until I decided I had had enough.

"I'm sorry. Who are you guys? And what job are we talking about?"

The two 'interviewers' exchanged quick glances, and the woman let out a short sigh as she checked her watch again.

"Might as well get it over with. We, are World Company. I'm the Grand Operational Director, and this associate of mine works for the Joint Execution-Salvation United Service."

"Right. That made zero sense. What is this 'World Company?'"

"I'm GOD. And he's JESUS. One of them, actually," said the director nonchalantly, as the JESUS agent waved at me congenially.

I took a deep breath before exploding.

"What the hell?"

"Ooh, we don't use that word around here," said the bearded agent.

I looked at him, and it finally came to me.

"You. You, literally, look like Jesus."

There. I had to point it out.

"The look is kind of like our uniform," smiled JESUS man.

"You mean there's more than one... Jesus? How many of you are there?"

"Enough chit-chat. Back to the business. What we are doing is offering you a job and an employment at the Genesis Department," said GOD.

"And you. How long have you been God? All this time we had a female God and we thought you were this old grandpa—"

"The position rotates every millennium," said GOD flatly.

"That makes sense. It does, right?" I looked to JESUS guy for support and got one in the form of a reassuring smile and a nod.

"The work you are given is to beta test the world we've been developing."

"We call it, the 'Dungeon,' because it's still pretty primitive in the current status," added JESUS guy.

"It's basically a prototype of the Next World after the Armageddon," said GOD.

"Arma— what?"

"The Apocalypse. The end of this current world."

"That sounds horrible."

"It really is," nodded GOD lady.

"When is that happening, exactly?"

"Who knows? A few thousand years from now. Give or take a couple of centuries. By then, it's someone else's job, not mine," she—or She—answered with a shrug.

"I don't know what to say. This is all too much to take in with just a cup of tea in my hand. Besides, I'm more of a coffee guy. Am I hyperventilating? Do you guys see me hyperventilating?"

"Drink your coffee, and calm down," said GOD, nodding at my hand which now held, of course, a fresh hot coffee.

The coffee did help, not to mention it tasted perfect and 'heavenly.' I took a sip and a deep breath, felt much calmer than before, and faced the two supposedly unearthly beings with a sigh.

"Thanks for the coffee. Best I've ever had."

"My p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e," smiled the JESUS agent.

"Oh, that was you? Not that I assumed it's a woman's job to serve drinks, because obviously you're the boss here, GOD lady, I just assumed because of your omnipotence, am I saying it right? Omni—"

"Can we focus?" GOD cut me off coldly, and I nodded eagerly back at her—Her. Evidently, it would take some time to get used to the change.

"So, you're giving me work. What am I supposed to do again?"

"Explore, survive, conquer, make friends, enemies, build an army, anything. And everything."

"That sounds like a hell of a beta testing."

Right away JESUS man frowned sadly at my diction and I muttered sorry under my breath.

"And the pay? Or reward for the job?"

"The reward is that you have a job, unlike billions of other idle souls begging for something do in Heaven."

"Really? That doesn't sound too much like a reward."

"Or you can just go to Hell. They are always shorthanded for their meaningless manual labors and torture entertainment business."

"You said 'Hell.' She said 'Hell," I looked toward the JESUS agent, but he only shrugged as if saying, "She's my boss, dude, what do you expect me to do?"

"There are perks, of course. The more flaws and rooms for improvements you find in this new world, the more shares you get from it," said GOD.

"Shares, as in like stocks?"

"Yes. You can be a part-deity of the New World, theoretically speaking."

"And also theoretically speaking, can I ever go back to where I was, the life I had before getting killed by a bastard named Kyle Bodkin...?"

"No. That's impossible."

"Really? You're God, and the word 'impossible' just comes out so easily like that?"

"It's impossible."

And there was the stern look again. Case closed, time to move on.

"Good to know. Perfect, then. New life, new world. When do I start this job?"

"That would be, now."

"Cool. Okay, just before you set me up, I have my preference when it comes to gaming accessories. For the mouse, I want the model 'Laabyrinth,' and for my keyboard it has to be 'HINV 1910,' otherwise my performance suffers."

"I'm sorry, what are you talking about?"

"My gaming gear. Do I get my own office, or would I be playing this 'Dungeon' above the clouds, listening to angels playing harps? Literally a heavenly background music during loading screens, am I right?" I said, laughing weakly at my own joke.

GOD was unsmiling. Even the friendly JESUS dude blinked uncomprehendingly.

"You must be mistaken. We didn't hire you to play some... computer games. This is a fieldwork job. A gruesome, difficult one at that."

"And dangerous," added the JESUS agent ominously.

"But... you said beta testing. How else do you beta test a developing game?"

"On foot. And we never said it was a game."

"You said 'simulation.' Something about a simulation, I remember that," I said unconvincingly.

"Not in the same context, no. Sorry," GOD shook her head.

"Wait, so when you said you wanted me to explore this 'Dungeon,' you meant that I actually go down there and... explore?"

"The portal's ready, ma'am," said JESUS man quietly to GOD just before he threw me one last glance of pity and condolence.

"Good luck, Beta," said GOD.

"Wait, we obviously have to talk this through. Thoroughly, and with a contract or something. You know what, I think I want my lawyer. Here, right now."

"I'm sorry but there's no lawyer in Heaven. They're all at, you know, southside," said the JESUS agent as he pointed below his feet.

"Right, because they're all evil," I chuckled inadvertently, forgetting for a moment that I would be sent away to who-knows-where.

"No, dammit, don't make me laugh, I'm serious!"

By then I could already feel my body being s.u.c.k.e.d into somewhere, away from my seating position.

"At least let me finish my coffee—"

Just as I raised my still-hot coffee in the air, I blacked out, again.