“Oh, a mugger.” Zola watched the red blip approaching her position on the map and shook her head while turning and locking on. “That’s adorable.”

She lit the mugger up with her Hellbringer and smirked at the notification appearing above her map. One of the Incel Squad had sent him after her, alright. If they had any brains at all, they’d keep sending mercs and muggers after her to keep her distracted while they slipped up on her unnoticed. Maybe call in an airstrike. Or even enter one of their Facilities, assuming any of them had one, and hit her with an orbital strike.

Given their track record so far, she doubted they were smart enough to think of it.

“Oh, hell,” the squeaker said under his breath, followed by an indistinct woman’s voice. “In a minute. I’m right in the middle of something.”

Next came the sound of a door opening and the woman’s voice again, crystal clear this time.

“It’s past your bedtime, Mikey. Turn that thing off and …”

“But Mom!”

″Now, young man!”

“Mikey masturbates to pictures of me!” Zola burst into laughter.

″What?”

Oh, she heard me! Zola collapsed in a fit of giggles. That’s why you should always wear headphones when you’re not alone.

“No -- wait!” Scrabbling sounds came from her speakers, then nothing. A notification that the squeaker had left the game appeared above her map and she nearly went into hysterics.

“Another one bites the dust,” she said once she’d caught her breath.

“This is lame,” said one of his buddies. “I’m outta here.”

Another snapped, “Wait a minute!”

“Hah! Down to three, now.” Zola aimed a huge grin directly into the camera.

“Go make me a sandwich!” The player left before she could even draw a breath.

“Coward.” Zola rolled her eyes and found the other three on her map. “So, who wants to get his ass kicked next?”

“Get the hell outta here! This is our game. You don’t belong here.”

“The phrase ‘no females allowed’ is nowhere in the game’s description.”

“You’re not even really playing. You have a dude playing while you’re on the mic.”

“I’m alone. You can see that on my stream. You can see my hands on the keyboard and mouse.”

“Fake news!” He laughed.

Zola brought up the list of players in the lobby, highlighted him, and removed herself from the map again. She drove her Deveste Eight to the waypoint, parked as soon as she spotted him, and got out. To distract him, she threw a grenade high over his head. It hit the pavement a fair distance past him, bounced, and popped just as an NPC drove a truck over it. The truck launched into the air and its momentum carried its burning wreckage over the three players’ heads. All three spun to face it and turned their heads to watch it soar over them.

Wow! That would never happen again in a million years! Never one to waste an unexpected opportunity, Zola switched weapons again, let out another gleeful cackle, and charged. She shanked the nearest of the three with a broken bottle, switched to the hatchet, and hacked another to death before the third gunned her down. She burst into laughter again.

“Worth it!”