If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats people during his second life.

  ~Elvis

  Sarah entered the Queen’s Court hotel, and for a moment excitement pushed back the tension knotting her shoulders. She knew it was stupid, but assaulting such a gorgeous hotel somehow helped her feel more confident. Whoever they were after had great taste.

  Dressed in a form-hugging skirt and matching blouse, she attracted lots of attention. With Tomas half a step behind, she passed through the elegant salon, taking her time to appreciate the artwork and draw as many eyes as possible.

  She was good at it. She had not been Alterego’s number five top-rated model for nothing. With her perfectly proportioned curves, smooth skin and thick hair, she’d been marketed as ‘The All American Girl’.

  No one paid any attention to Gregorios, dressed in a delivery uniform and wheeling two large roller bags behind Tomas as she led the trio toward the elevator. Inside, they rode to the ninth floor.

  “Why the ninth?” Sarah asked.

  “Always been my lucky number,” Gregorios said.

  “I thought seven was lucky.”

  “Not for me. Some lives are better left un-lived.”

  After exiting the elevator, they found an empty hall. Gregorios knocked on one door and, when there was no answer, he produced a small silver box with a hotel key card extending from the bottom.

  He inserted it into the lock. A light turned green and with a soft click the door unlocked.

  They slipped inside a comfortable suite. Thankfully it was empty, with two suitcases in the extensive closet and clothing belonging to a couple with terrible taste in colors.

  “This feels weird,” Sarah said. She had suggested renting a room, but Tomas had explained they didn’t want to leave a paper trail.

  “We’re not staying,” Tomas assured her as Gregorios opened the roller bags and started extracting gear.

  “We should,” she said. “I mean some other time. I like this hotel.”

  While the men donned bulletproof vests, strapped on double shoulder holsters, and covered it all surprisingly well with a pair of custom leather jackets, Sarah slipped into the bathroom and willed her outfit to change into slacks. When she emerged, Tomas was loading one holster with an odd, double-barreled pistol.

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  “I’ve never seen a pistol like that,” Sarah said. “What model is it?”

  “Insurance.”

  Gregorios donned a similar set of weapons. “Customized design of ours to deal with the special nature of the threat. We call it the Final Transfer.”

  Sarah approached and touched the odd weapon. “I’ve done a bit of shooting, but I’ve never seen anything like it. What caliber is it?”

  Tomas handed it over. It was lighter than she’d expected from the size of the barrels. It bore no manufacturer stamp or serial number, just a strange symbol. It looked like a stick figure of a man with no legs.

  Sarah touched the symbol, her mind racing. It looked a lot like the symbols she’d learned in the tutorial. One more hint that she was moving in the right direction.

  Trying to keep her tone light, she asked, “You draw on your toys when you get bored?”

  “That’s an Egyptian hieroglyph. Ankh. It’s the key of life.”

  “Strange symbol to mark on a gun.”

  “It’ll make sense some day,” Tomas said. He dropped the magazines from the unique weapon and showed her the strange darts they held. “It shoots a non-lethal mix.”

  The first dart was black and felt like rubber. “This one delivers a powerful electric shock. Wrecks muscle control for a few seconds."

  He pointed to the second. "This one pumps out a potent mix of fast-acting drugs. Paralytics, tranquilizers, and sleep agents.” It was red, and Sarah declined to touch it.

  She frowned. “How do you know you get the right dose?”

  “The only people we shoot with these can handle it,” Tomas said. “Trust me.”

  “Well let’s hope you don’t have to shoot anyone up there,” she said.

  “Best to be prepared,” Tomas said, taking the weapon back and slamming the magazines home. “Or it could be us getting the final transfer. We’ll use non-lethal first.”

  Then he extracted his original H&K pistol and swapped the magazine for one with a green stripe down the side.

  “What’s that?”

  “Specialty ammo,” he explained as he tucked the gun into his other holster. “Always keep the forty-five as back-up.”

  “That’s the kind of slogan you should put on a bumper sticker.”

  He chuckled. “Someone probably already has.”

  After they loaded more gear into various pockets, Tomas handed Sarah a slender canister about the size of a bottle of hair spray, along with a pair of silicon ear plugs.

  “What’s this?”

  “Bear spray. About ten times more potent than that mace you carry. Just in case.”

  “You’re so thoughtful.”

  Her flippant tone sounded weak even to her and she tried to keep a tight rein on her growing tension as she slipped it into her deep coat pocket.

  “Never say I don’t give you things.”

  Did she really volunteer to join these two? They were preparing for pitched battle in a high-class hotel. The whole situation was beginning to feel like a crazy dream, or another test in the system’s dream world.

  If only it was, then she could embrace the rising thrill of excitement without hesitation. In the dream world, she could die and respawn. Real life wasn’t that forgiving.

  Tomas helped her wedge the ear plugs into her ears. “These are another custom design. They’ll block any loud noises but not interfere with normal hearing.”

  They left the room after less than five minutes and stashed the empty bags in the nearby vending area. They returned to the elevator and, after Sarah confirmed it was empty of other passengers, the heavily-armed men joined her. Gregorios inserted his black box card impersonator and punched the top floor.

  “Shouldn’t we take the stairs?” Sarah asked.

  “Eirene had planned to. Didn’t help her much.”

  Tomas nudged Sarah to one side and drew his weapons.

  The elevator beeped and Tomas blew out a breath. “Here we go.”