Illusion burned. The oil slick Kitty had unleashed covered almost half of the Downtown Cluster and the fires overwhelmed any NPC response, quickly spreading and covering most of the map in death and destruction. The overwhelming majority of all faction-owned Hubs and Strongholds were destroyed, and most players simply logged out to await the weekly reset.

  Two minutes before midnight Sunday a massive rainstorm swept over the city, immediately putting out the smoldering ruins and paving the way for the server reset. The ruined buildings, husks of burnt vehicles, and shelled-out roads all dissolved into a swirling storm of silver dust. When the storm cleared a moment later, the city was returned to its pristine form and populated with fresh NPCs ready for a new week. The event gained immediate notoriety in gaming culture, and Kitty took the brunt of the blame for it, having been the most notable player involved.

  Players began logging back in to find their factions fractured and weakened. Kitty’s final act in Illusion had caused exactly what she wanted: chaos. Crews began fresh conflicts with each other even as they struggled with massive infighting and betrayals.

  GoonStorm dissolved, the upper ranks of their leadership too demoralized and financially burdened to maintain order. While a portion of their stronghold had survived the fires and cruise missiles, being stationed well outside the city limits and spread out over most of a square mile, the lack of leadership caused widespread looting. Any weapons, armor, or vehicles not under lock and key were quickly ransacked. Over a dozen smaller factions sporting some variation of the Goons’ name arose, and a fresh (but much smaller scale) war began.

  The Ursa lost surprisingly few members over the conflict, becoming the new powerhouse crew in Illusion by default. They carved out a small but strategically placed plot of turf and began the arduous process of rebuilding, while defending themselves from all comers.

  The Pirates were utterly destroyed in the conflict. Almost none of their naval forces remained, and their members found themselves without stable leadership or a stronghold. Kitty transferred off the Illusion server and left RougeWorrier in command, but her leadership was contested from the officer core, and the crew fell to infighting. Being a natural draw for players without a crew, the various Pirates factions began building their strength again quickly, forming a loose coalition, and emerged as the Ursa’s primary rival.

  The Lace actually grew, with a few new players making their way into the ranks. Jerome and Godless ended up joining by invitation, but Godless quickly learned to avoid Gadot, as she continued to shoot him on sight any time their paths crossed. The crew carved out a healthy plot of turf in the heart of the Downtown Cluster and began the arduous process of slowly washing three billion dollars in dirty cash, while defending themselves from incursions and running new heists each week.

  Three weeks later, Kurt stood in his parents’ kitchen, bending over to stare at the oven’s window with narrowed eyes. As his father chuckled from his position at the table, Kurt sighed in resignation and slid his hands into oven mitts. Pulling his latest attempt at a loaf of sourdough bread from the oven, he plopped the tin onto the counter and shook his head. The ‘loaf’ was misshapen and dark, clearly not the work of a master baker.

  Kurt’s father maintained his bemused expression, standing up and reaching for the bread knife. Cutting into it, he shrugged. “Smells nice, at least.”

  “Yeah, great.” Kurt was unimpressed. “I should give up on the oven entirely. We just don’t get along.”

  “Nonsense. Progress is still progress. Nobody ever made a perfect loaf of bread their first few tries. I think you’re just not letting it prove long enough. I’ll take a look at that recipe you’re working from and we can try again tomorrow, if you want.”

  Kurt forced a smile and nodded. “Sure thing.” He raised his wrist and swiped at the air in front of it for a moment. “I gotta run, I’m meeting Jimmy and Summer for dinner.”

  “Playing your game all night again?” His father asked with an eyebrow raised.

  “Almost certainly. Things are still a bit crazy, and my talents are needed.” Kurt hugged his father before heading for the front door.

  “I won’t complain. Bit of an odd way to make a living, but the stack of cash you left on the counter the other week can’t really be argued with. You know you don’t have to pay rent, and even if you did, ten thousand is a bit excessive.” He turned and started cleaning the kitchen space. “See you tomorrow, son.”

  Kurt’s Underhanded skill had finally activated on the biggest haul in The Life of Crime’s history, giving him an additional infusion of cash, which he in turn had happily given to his parents.

  In the driveway, Kurt ran into his mother. He sighed inwardly and cringed, waiting for the disapproval. Instead, his mother waved cheerily at him from the driver's seat of her car as it rolled to a stop in the driveway. She got out, holding a bag of assorted grocery items, a happy smile firmly in place.

  She walked over to him and hugged him lightly, stepping back after. “Off to meet Jimmy and Summer?”

  “Hi mom, yeah, we’re meeting up for lunch and some planning.” He said, hesitant to bring up the game.

  “So you’re still playing the Life for money?” She didn’t seem upset, and her use of the game's actual name made Kurt suspicious.

  “Uh, yeah. For now anyway. Jimmy has a really good system, he’s been using it to save up for his surgery for a couple years already.” He started a preplanned speech. “It’s nothing long term, and payouts like the one I got recently aren’t really normal. But with Jimmy’s system and Summer’s leadership, we’re making a steady income already.”

  “Okay, just keep me posted.” She said as she stepped by him, heading towards the door. Once there she stopped and turned back to look at him, one hand on the doorknob. “Kurt . . . I know you think I don’t approve . . . but, how you’re making it isn’t that important. You’re making it . . . that matters. A lot.”

  He stood in the driveway, unsure how to respond at first. “Uh, thanks. I mean, I’m not going to play the game forever, I know I still have to figure something more real out. For now, it just feels good to help Jimmy and do something I’m good at. He’s got a surgeon consultation coming up already, fully paid for.”

  Her smile fell a bit at the mention of Jimmy. She’d always struggled with the other young man’s presence. “You’ve surprised me plenty so far son, I’m sure you’ll surprise me again. And it's good you’re helping your friend.”

  Once in his car, the trip to Hot Fusion was short and peaceful. Kurt hummed along to some music, in a great mood for a change. Their haul from stealing the buyout had ended up making them all a small fortune, and both he and Summer had tried to give the majority of it to Jimmy. After a brief but intense argument where Jimmy clearly and passionately laid out his reasons for refusal, Kurt walked away with his full cut, one hundred and forty thousand dollars. His Underhanded skill had finally activated on the biggest haul in The Life of Crime’s history, giving him an additional infusion of cash, which he in turn had happily given to his parents, forty thousand to make up for the lost tuition he had wasted. Kurt was more than content to live on the remainder while trying to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

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  Pulling into the parking lot, he saw Summer and Jimmy were already at their customary outdoor table, in spite of a cloudy sky that threatened rain. Summer was sipping a chocolate milkshake while laughing, and Jimmy was telling an amusing story, based on his hand motions. Kurt approached with a happy wave.

  “Hey guys,” Kurt said. He moved Jimmy’s crutches aside and sat down.

  “Hey, man, what’s up.” It was a statement from Jimmy more than a question. He pointed at the interior of the restaurant. “Ordered you spicy tuna rolls.”

  “Awesome.” Kurt leaned back in his chair and listened to Jimmy finish telling his story; an amusing anecdote of a recent confrontation Jimmy had led against the Ursa. Apparently they were holding a grudge, along with the reforming Pirates, and every single Goons faction.

  “So, yeah, the Pirates kept ‘em distracted enough that I basically just walked up and stole the APC. Almost no resistance. I swear, I hope this wild west thing Illusion is doing never settles. The opportunities are just endless.” He took a break to eat a bite of his meal, smiling at Summer.

  “Sweet, new APC. Where’s it parked?” Kurt ginned and snatched a French fry from his friend’s plate.

  “Ha! I’m not telling you, not after what you did with the last one,” Jimmy said. He shook his head, chuckling. “Not to be trusted.”

  Kurt brushed off his friend’s comment as his food arrived. He thanked the waitress and started eating, before remembering something. “Oh, hey! You talk to your accountant?”

  Jimmy nodded, chewing for a moment before answering. “Yeah it’s all sorted out. If we keep going at this rate, I get my new muscles in just two years. My new heart in one.” He pointed at Kurt and Summer, a serious look on his face. “I’ll still owe almost one hundred and fifty thousand after the surgery though. You guys better keep playing The Life with me, that’s a nasty-sounding grind for a solo act.”

  “Not to worry. I’m not going anywhere.” Kurt smiled at his friend.

  Summer rolled her eyes. “That’s hardly a big grind for us. We take down billion plus heists, after all.” The couple chuckled, not noticing the slight shiver the memory sent down Kurt’s back.

  Jimmy suddenly stopped laughing, looking over Kurt’s shoulder. “Hey, not to make us anymore paranoid than we already are, but . . . were you followed, Kurt?”

  Kurt’s face fell, a concerned frown taking over his features. “Maybe?” He turned to see Jimbo approaching them from the parking lot, followed by a man in a suit who Kurt didn’t recognize.

  “Holy shit, it’s that guy!” Summer sputtered, setting her milkshake down and standing up. Jimmy beat her to the gate, snatching up his crutches and moving to physically block the entrance to the pavilion.

  Jimbo stopped a few feet away and graced the group with a smile. “Jimmy, Summer. Nice to see you again. Mind if I speak with Kurt for a moment?”

  Jimmy opened the gate and stood in front of it, leaning heavily on his crutches. He whispered to Kurt as his friend moved to slip past. “His friend is armed — you sure about this?”

  Kurt paled slightly, whispering back, “Not really.”

  Jimmy started moving down the sidewalk with Kurt, dramatically playing up his need for the crutches as he went. Jimbo’s bodyguard moved to stop him, holding out his arms in a blocking but non-threatening gesture. Jimmy stumbled, falling into the man and allowing the bodyguard to catch him. Once he was steadied and stepped back, Jimmy produced the handgun that had been holstered beneath the bodyguard’s jacket.

  “Oh, nice piece. A CR-44, if I’m not mistaken.” He waved the matte black weapon around lightly, a wide grin on his face as the glowing iron sights left a small green trail against the night. “Lighter than I’d have thought. Fires a seven millimeter flechette with a heavy ionized tip, right? Not bad.”

  The bodyguard’s eyes went wide and he snatched for the compact railgun, being outmaneuvered by Jimmy with a simple pivot. Jimmy pointed the gun directly at the nearby fence and chuckled, miming a trigger pull and fire reaction.

  When the bodyguard reached for the gun again, Jimmy’s friendly demeanor dropped. “You reach for this thing one more time and I pull the trigger. Unless I’m mistaken, the IFF in this sends a ping directly to local law enforcement if an unauthorized user attempts to fire it. I imagine the local smokeys are pretty bored around this time of night. You guys really want to give them some excitement?”

  “Just let him keep it. We can talk about this later.” Jimbo gave his recently disarmed bodyguard a severe look, before turning his attention back to Kurt. “Just a friendly meeting, I swear.” He raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

  Kurt stood in front of Jimbo, a few feet from Jimmy and the abashed bodyguard, doing his level best to remain calm. “What can I do for you, Jimbo?”

  The older man looked confused. “I honestly expected you to ask how I found you first.”

  “Probably through some shady means. Breaking into one of Blacklight’s servers or something. I dunno, it seems more important to find out what you want.” Kurt shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets to prevent nervous fidgeting.

  “Fair enough. I actually work for Blacklight Industries, so I didn’t have to break into anything. I’m here with a job offer, point of fact.” He slid out a business card and handed it to Kurt, who glanced at both sides. A phone number was all the slim piece of black graphite held.

  Kurt pocketed it and turned his attention back to Jimbo. “What kind of job?”

  The older man ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair with a smile. “Ah. Can’t say, really. You’d have to take it first.”

  “So . . . I steal three billion in game from you, which ends up being worth about three hundred thousand in real world currency, and you offer me a job?” Kurt asked. He sighed and turned to look back at Jimmy, who was pretending to quick-draw the stolen handgun on a nearby tree. “Sounds like that’s on the level.”

  “If we’re being honest here — which I would greatly prefer — that take ended up being closer to five hundred K than three, and I’m pretty sure you know it. You guys crashed the exchange economy and caused the biggest rush for FLEX packs the Illusion server has ever seen.” He paused, scrutinizing Kurt before shaking his head and continuing. “You’ve caught my interest. Again. I run the Creative Solutions department for Blacklight, and I’m here to offer you a job working directly under me.”

  “And what exactly does the Creative Solutions department do?” Kurt shifted his stance, studying Jimbo for a reaction. When the man didn’t answer immediately, Kurt waved at Jimmy. “Hey Jimmy, go ahead and pull that trigger.”

  “Really? Sure!” Jimmy took careful aim at the tree and placed his index finger alongside the trigger guard.

  “No, Jimmy, please don’t!” Jimbo looked exasperated. “Alright, fine. I guess you could call it . . . industrial espionage?” He raised his hands defensively. “Nothing illegal, of course!”

  “Of course,” Kurt injected amicably.

  “Consider the in-game stuff an audition. I’ve thought about it a lot. You played me from the start, the moment I approached you at the weapon shop, didn’t you?” He seemed genuinely concerned.

  “’Played’ is such a . . . harsh word,” Kurt stated without denial.

  “C’mon, kid, that’s talent. I’m offering you the chance to make a living from your own personal art form. What do you say?” Jimbo’s eyebrows raised slightly, a tiny smile forming on his face.

  Kurt looked back at his friends for a moment. “Ah, hell. Why not?”

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