“Sneak, on your six,” Thomas calmly said, tracking Paul through his scope. The Black and Red clad thin cheetah rolled out of the line of fire, turned, and unloaded an entire magazine into the approaching canine dressed in the blue and pink of the enemy faction.

“Thank’s Overwatch,” Paul answered, vanishing as he stepped behind a burning car.

“Medic, Blunt, Sit-Rep,” He called out while scanning the field.

“Approaching the enemy objective,” Marian answered. “Gears, are you in position to give me cover fire? They have two shooters keeping watch over it.”

“Working on that,” Nathan replied.

Thomas scanned where he knew the enemy flag was, based on the map markers, but the buildings were too tall to let him see the ground.

“Just took down their mechanic,” Donna replied. “Watch the respawn points for her.”

Thomas tuned out the conversation, looking from one respawn point to the other. One of the reason he’d picked this location was it gave him line of sight on three of the five enemy respawns and four of his teams. The mechanic, who had a female avatar in blue and pink military gears, had tools attached everywhere on her body. Nathan preferred something more down to earth. He had jeans and a utility vest, along with a tool belt.

Who Thomas found, instead of her, was who had quickly become his favorite target of any match where his team faced one this player was on. Some full-of-himself player, who’s spent an unreasonable amount of money on an otter avatar dressed in the best-pressed blue and pink suit the assassin could wear.

“There you are,” Thomas said, adjusting his sight to take into account the shifting winds. He’d missed the shot when the assassin had respawned. He might have more money than common sense, but Mister Fel-Lou-Max wasn’t a horrible player. Thomas fired, and the assassin dropped again. “You just aren’t good enough to sneak by me.”

Thomas loved being a sniper.

“You ever going to give him a chance to play?” Mark asked, then cursed. “Medic!” there was a pause. “There the <bleep> did that shooter come from?”

“Give me a sign,” Donna calmly replied.

A green flare went up and Thomas scanned that area of the field. It would tell Donna where Mark was, but also pinpoint him to—Thomas shot the enemy sniper. “Their sniper’s off to respawn,” he announced.

“Thanks,” Mark said.

u“I see you.” Then Donna added. “And one healing ray on its way.” Thomas went back to scanning for the respawns when she exclaimed. “Shit! Where did he come from?”

Next came the announcement Mark was respawning.

Thomas snapped back to where his teammates had been, looking for the second shooter, only it was that expensively dressed assassin he found sneaking toward Donna’s likely position.

“How the Hell did you get there from spawn so quickly?” 

The assassin vanished before Thomas had a lock on him. They already knew he had height on them, and if the sniper had noticed where the shot came from, he’d know what kind of line of sight to watch out for. The only ones who might head from him were the mechanic and other sniper. Everyone else was currently engaged with his team.

The otter’s head poked over an overturned car almost entirely in Thomas’s reticule. An adjustment, a press of the trigger, and Mister Fel-Lou-Max was down again. “And that’s five just for this game. One more, and I’ll have a new record when it comes to taking you out. Sit-Rep.”

“Almost with Marian,” Mark called. “Two minutes, top, and we have this.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Thomas replied, scanning the field. “That assassin who took you out studied this map and found some shortcut I didn’t know about. I didn’t see him reach you. Sneak, you’ve been quiet, how is it—” The door to his bedroom slammed into the wall and Thomas nearly dropped his controller.

“I’ve had fucking enough!” Felix yelled, then spun the Thomas’s chair fast enough the rat’s had to catch his headset before it fell off and put it back in place. “You, Mister Maximum-T-Hertz, are a cheat!”

“What?” Thomas asked, distracted from figuring out what the otter was going on about by the screen in his peripheral vision flashing red. He tried to turn to get back to the game. He couldn’t stay in spawn, but his chair was jerked back hard again, and he was facing Felix.

“Don’t fucking ignore me, Hertz! There’s no way you pulled that last shot without a cheat. Come clean now or I’m fucking reporting you and getting your account locked out.”

Thomas batted the hands away. “Back off, Chouteau.” His headset was silent. He’d probably disconnected from the serve when he’d caught it. “Not only did you just cost my team the match, but now I’m going to have to log back in and we’re all going to have to go back in the queue.”

“You’re not getting me to drop this, Blacky. There’s no way you beat me with that.” Felix motion to the controller in Thomas’s hand and the rat bristled. His gear might not be worth more than a hundred dollar all together, but that didn’t make them cheap. “I’ve spent too much on my gear,” the otter continued, “to let some cheat take me down so much.”

Thomas shoved the otter away as he stood. “I didn’t cheat! You can’t sneak worth shit. Don’t blame me for your lack of…” His mind caught up to his mouth and made the connections his subconscious clearly already had. “You’re Fel-Lou-Max?” of course he was. Thomas should have realized it, an otter in the most expensive suit. Who else could that be? Although, right now, all he had on was a tight Anti-Vision T-shirt, an ultra-thin headset with contact mike and was holding a—Holy Fuck, was that a Platinum G Pro? How had he scored one of those?

The otter’s grin was vicious. “That’s it, now you get it. This is real quality gaming equipment. The equipment a serious pro uses, instead of some amateur like you.”

“Oh, come on.” If he was such a pro, what was he doing, calling it equipment? “It doesn’t matter how expensive the gear is, if you don’t have the skill to back it up.” Thomas fought the urge to glance down. Was the otter getting hard?

“I’ve been playing,” Felix snarled. “Me and my team have been training for months!”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Well, Me and my friends have been playing for years.”

Felix snarled as he reached for Thomas. “I will show you who’s the fucking better man here, you—”

“That’s just about enough of that,” Laurence said from the door. His texan drawl was thicker than usual. “First off, he’s a brother, so treat him with respect. Second, how are you two getting excited over fake shooting?”

“That’s not what this is about,” Felix said, still holding onto Thomas’s collar. “He’s cheating!”

“Just fuck him, Fel,” Laurence said, sounding tired. “It’s not like the Freshman’s going to bitch about it, right?” The armadillo became serious as he eyed Thomas.

Thomas tried not to grin. “Just to be clear, when you wreck my ass, it’s only for this game and not the twenty or so times I’ve decimated you over the last few weeks, right?”

“You’re a cheat—” The otter was yanked back by the armadillo pulling on his T-shirt’s collar.

“This is getting out of hand,” Laurence said, exasperated, and holding onto the otter whose arms were stretched groping for Thomas. “Why don’t we resolve this like men?”

“Rematch!” Felix yelled, glaring murder at Thomas.

“I said like men.” Laurence rolled his eyes, then plucked both controllers and tossed them on Thomas’s bed. “Like for real, not for fake. You against Thomas. Real guns and real targets. You win, you get to fuck the Freshman. Thomas wins and that honor is mine.”

“I’m not shooting Felix, not even with a stunner,” Thomas said as the otter started smiling smugly.

“I said real guns,” Laurence replied, “but not at each other. Targets and the best score wins.”

“Wins you,” Someone said behind Thomas, snickering, and he froze. That has sounded like Nathan.

“Oh man,” Marian said, “is the point for you to win or to lose?”

“Did I miss something?” Donna asked.

Thomas’s ears burned. There was no way they could have heard any of that. He looked over his shoulder. The game was on the character load in menu, and the live chat icon was green. He hadn’t disconnected from the server, just from the screen, and its microphone had taken over.

“Oh, you have missed so much,” Paul replied. “Remember when Nathan had to dare Thomas into kissing a guy? And you were afraid the black eye the school’s star quarterback gave him might have turned him off guys altogether? You don’t have to worry about that anymore. He’s kissing guys again, and a whole lot more.”

How come none of them had said anything until now? Felix’s satisfied smile gave him the answer. Fuck, even Laurence couldn’t keep from snickering. This had to have been entertaining as Hell for his friends.

Well, maybe he could take advantage of the situation. “So, is this only open to us in Sigma Theta Gamma, or can others join in this little contest. Like Paul, for instance?”

Paul stammered as Thomas smiled. If the unvoiced rule was that they all had to beat Laurence, there was no contest he’d get Thomas’s ass, but if Paul only had to beat out the otter, maybe Thomas would finally be fucked by his best friend.

“How the fuck did Thomas score himself a frat?” Mark asked.

“On his back,” Paul answered. “And Thomas, don’t think I’m not seeing what you’re trying. So I’m going to pass. Two guys fighting over that ass of yours is enough. As for your ulterior motive, maybe we should actually talk about it, instead of being sneaky.”

“What fighting?” Thomas asked. “No one’s fighting to—”

Paul’s laughter was so loud, the speakers squawked. Laurence had his mouth covered, and Felix was staring at Thomas in disbelief.

“What?” Thomas asked, and Laurence lost it hard.