The cold acrimonious air howled as it took an invisible monstrous shape in the godless city. The black soulless birds crowed with inspired voyeuristic zest as their number folded on the bitter, scarlet scene of pure bloodshed.

The kids were running around Chaos, heftily on the move for their next victim, hiding, or simply sequestered from the madness until the terminal time arrived. Some were well adept to scatter and hold in the time, but very few managed to succeed without the proper numbers and logistics. Without the proper stealth. And the ones that managed, even with a congealed team were traced. Players climbed the highrises, scouring for runaways, snipers at the ready. The silent ones had managed to sneak themselves a stealthy rocket launcher, waiting...

Casper's feet settled uneasily on the pavement. The city was growing cold, yet it was breezily sunny out and the sky was still chalk blue, a strong emulation of the autumnal New England weather. Goosebumps grew on Casper's neck and the atmosphere whispered. His eyes peaked at the heavens and found a few roaming heads staring down at him, guns poised. There were several others, but they hadn't caught wind of the player.

"Vamos mata-lo! Estou ficando com fome." The words spoke without conviction...haughty and audacious. The Portuguese players stood stock still, wondering if the facile environment was a trap.

Casper squinted. They weren't going to shoot. Either they would miss or one of his members would headshot the perpetrator. But above all, there were more pressing matters...

"Klaus put the gun down."

Klaus took his strong eye off the Portuguese sniper and relinquished his grip. He noticed the neon compartment building existing with sedentary ease right across the street, The Neon Tavern. The only skirmish was that it was being guarded by a few unfamiliar faces. Casper's gaze lingered on the spot.

"I thought we were going straight?"

Lena smirked, revealing the pearly crookedness of her teeth. "What you think is never uniform with the führer. You need a quick drink? Or is your Schwanz feeling cold, you need me to stroke it?"

Casper smacked his lips and released his tongue. "My mouth is pretty dry..."

"You're pulling my dick," Klaus gaped.

"No Klaus," said Casper mechanically. "I'm not. Kill them, and I mean kill them right now. Both of you."

"We're outnumbered."

"I see only two people." But the words watered in vain as two other players slipped out of the tiny bar. "Well fine, if you insist..." The grip from the gun slipped., A girl approached him. She had curly black hair tied in pigtails and her skin was resplendent to that of the burnt golden sun. She smiled at him and held his chin.

"Well hello cutie, you looking for good time?"

Lena stared, pressing her lips together disapprovingly.

"Sorry senorita, maybe in another life. Tell your amigos to find another bar and maybe I'll throw you that smooch"

The Mexican girl stirred, affronted. "¿Cómo dices? ¿A quién le hablas con esos labios, zorra? You speak of dreams, why should we move? We were here first."

Casper forced a nod, grinning as if almost in irascible pain."You're right–" The hologram appeared confidently in Casper's open fingers and a startling booming sound echoed through the vicinity. The Mexican girl fell in a heap a giant bloody hole rocketed through her head. Casper bent down and kissed the cherry wound. "Night senorita."

Klaus raised his eyebrows and Lena licked her fingers, dancing on her tiptoes. "Oooh, more of them! You sure know how to rile them!"

"Aufladen!" Casper yelled.

The three figures charged at the bar shooting at the Mexican players. Casper released a silver-blue holographic shield from his watch and continued the fiery carnage. More Mexican players came out the bar like panicked ants, releasing spits of bullets like a motley of drunk soldiers.

"¡Retirada! ¡Tenemos qué decírselo al líder!" The bushy haired player beckoned to the others. But most of them had already been shot down, slumped motionless on the ground. Another echoing boom cracked the air and the last guard relinquished his position.

Lena and Klaus charged in headfirst and blasted down the silhouetted figure shrouded by the round tables. The bar carried neon lines and palm trees along its walls and several animated drawings walked around in their bras holding two beer steins in their hands.

The bloodied figure tried to crawl away like a squished worm but Casper stepped on his hand and yanked his hair back. The Mexican sputtered out imploringly, his teeth glossed in red.

"¡Suéltame!"

"You're in big trouble amigo. Why did you resist?" Casper purred, yanking hiis ear.

"¡Suéltame! Me don't know."

"Ah...but I think you do, who's your leader?"

Klaus tapped his legs, anguishedly observing the shot player. "Maybe we shouldn't—"

"Merida! Merida! He no here. He come!" the player choked, spits of blood coming from his mouth.

"Pity." Casper cocked the gun and the Mexican player swiftly fell to the ground.

"I don't know about this, Casper, we've made quite a few enemies as it is," Klaus said. "The game has only started, don't you think we should slow down. Don't–"

Casper raised his chin. "Slow down?"

Lena leaned against Klaus's shoulder, her elbow nearly licking his ear. "Oh Klaus, still being diplomatic...when will you learn?" Lena patted him on the cheek.

Casper moved to the blinking violet paradise, sat in front of the counter, and grabbed a stein. The beer trickled down his needy throat and suddenly unleashed a spike of hunger. A simple dis of kartofel and bratwurst would've done the trick.

The days of Dusseldorf spoke darkly yet lucidly. He'd been in school when he discovered the ticket. But it was around that time that he'd been alerted that his father was being sent to prison. The winding hallways scourged into his mind and he found himself finding another student and stabbing him, stabbing him deep in his loins, deep in his belly until all the gushy red remains of his bowels poured out. The fury couldn't be resisted. This found the other students catching on with shocked aggregation. Casper ran to the dining hall, and there he witnessed it. The exact culprit, the pestilential fiend who had put his father in prison. Karl Wager. The kid was styled in a midnight pinstriped suit with oiled blonde hair and a strong square jawline. He talked to the assembly, jaunting his newfound ticket. A ticket undoubtedly found by his criminal father. The same father who pitted the crime on Casper's own. Casper stared bitterly. And to this day the hostility lingered. He had to get him back.

Casper finished his beverage and smashed the mug. "Los gehts."

The designated place would be on 135 East Sin Street. The pub would be open and be populated with several other German players. Casper and his group spotted the multifarious outlines of the German players and entered the small congested club. Karl was in the front talking to a score of players.

"That's right! We are gonna take this game to the end thanks to your cooperation!. We can do this! I would also like to take pleasure in introducing you to Zeke, the American player. He has agreed to be our treacherous spy–" The crowd erupted into claps and cheers. "Yes, yes his reconnaissance is most well deserved."

The player known as Zeke was a tall lean figure of brown thin strawed hair and sparkling hazelnut eyes. He had a thin face, a humped stature, and rather long arms like a hiking monkey. His eyes stared nervously at Karl and he nodded. Caser switched on his holographic inventory and double-tapped his watch. He slithered to the front of the crowd. There was no way the player would recognize him. He never did besides his elite, luxurious crowd.

"And now if I may thank the front row members for their contribution in arms...Gratz, Anders, Lukas, Florence, Rin, and Cam. Thanks for your protection and your extra hand in combat. Together we can take the German name in peace and calm diplomacy.

"You forgot about me, you bastard!" Casper took his long awaited shot. The bullet tore through the air and carved a red hole in Karl's forehead. The suited player fell into the sea of the dead, traumatized crowd.

No one said anything. No one could. For at the moment, Casper had seized the stage.