The Gamer
A beachfront hotel in Florida. Five hundred people have been taken hostage. Many of them are world leaders and government officials, including The President of the United States.
A video gamer is working in the hotel. He learnt his skills...
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He was asleep, but his eyes darted back and forth. His mind was active. He was experiencing the rapid eye movement stage of his slumber.
In his mind he was running down a corridor, the same as his avatar on-screen had done in his console game SAS: We Dare We Win. He moved with speed, yet smoothly, MP5 submachine gun raised to eye level, ready to lay down fire. One shot at a time. Up ahead, still some distance away was a right hand turn in the corridor. There was music playing, the type that violated eardrums. Striding forwards, the music became louder. The noise became deafening. It must be worse for those in its immediate vicinity. Over the noise, he heard a door slam. Just. He sensed somebody was coming his way and they weren't hanging around. He hid in a side room.
Once the shadow of the runner had passed and opening the door, he continued along the corridor. Turning right at the end of the passageway, he headed towards the noise. Towards the hostages. Even though the door was closed, the music was so loud it was becoming unbearable. Readying himself behind the door, he was acutely aware that he had no backup. There was no team behind him. He always worked in a team of four, or eight. That was the base minimum. This time however, he was on his own. On this occasion he didn't have the luxury of any support. A superhuman effort was required if he was to save the hostages and one in particular. He made a quick check of his surroundings. There was no one nearby. He opened the door.
The room was lit more than the corridor. An intentional move by the terrorists. It gave the hostages little chance for rest and ensured they were sleep deprived. Unable to fight back. The room was huge, a vast conference hall. The hotel's biggest. Sitting with their backs against the walls were the hostages. He saw the music video with the noise coming from the speakers, being projected onto a white wall at the front of the room. The terrorists in the room were either looking at that, or facing the hostages. They weren't looking at him. They didn't know he had entered. He saw his prey, four of them, standing in the centre of the room, beating the hostage he'd come to rescue. To him, she was the most important person in the world.
One terrorist from the group in the centre looked up and saw him. Music blaring, the terrorists deafened, Harry pulled the trigger. Then again. Two 9mm rounds thudded into the terrorist's upper body and neck. He died instantly and dropped to the floor. The music covered the sound of gun fire. Nobody heard. Harry moved forward, MP5 aimed at the remaining three terrorists. Pulling the trigger a third and fourth time and a fifth and sixth time, two more terrorists dropped. The last terrorist in the group saw what happened and spun around. The trigger was pulled once more. The terrorist didn't get a chance to bring his rifle to aim.
Harry was woken from his dream. His past reality. He knew he wouldn't fall asleep again. The curtains were pulled wide and the bedroom window was open. The night was hot and sticky for late summer. He sat up in bed. Aided by the moonlight, he looked around his bedroom. Drum kit in the corner. Posters on the wall. Racing bikes and women in bikinis. Shelves filled with the special forces books he'd read. DVDs and video games sat on another shelf. He zoned in on the TV at the foot of his bed, his PlayStation beneath. He still hadn't completed the last level of SAS: We Dare We Win. He didn't have the faintest bit of interest in it anymore. Harry Fearn had done it for real. He looked at his bedside table and smiled. The silver plated Desert Eagle was sitting next to the lamp. Only he knew where the firing pin was hidden.
