Hotshot Gamer Novels & Stories

My body buzzed with tension, every instinct screaming that something wasn’t right. And then, the gunshot. It was too close. I twisted, moving out of the way just in time as the bullet sliced through the air where I’d been standing. A growl ripped from my throat, my body surging forward as I shifted midair. The transformation sharpened everything—the scents, the sounds, the movement in the shadows. My eyes locked onto one of the hunters pressed against a tree, his rifle raised. I didn’t give him the chance to fire again.

I snatched the laptop and hit play on his latest demo. "No. No way." On-screen, Adrian’s robot moved with the exact precision, the exact fluidity, of my freshly upgraded build. I stared at the comments flooding his page, fans falling over themselves to praise him, my face draining of color. Then, I saw his latest post on social media: "I thought my first-generation design could already win. But in a competition like this, there’s always someone better, so I decided to upgrade. It’s not perfectly stable, but if I can get guidance from one of the greats during the event, it’ll all be worth it."

He signals him to continue, and I am thrown aback. "If you shot that ball, getting expelled would be the smallest of your problems. "I warn the boy, and he freezes with his leg in the air, ready to kick the ball. I don't know how exactly I'm going to go about this threat, but I do know how to look intimidating, and if I really want something, my mom and sister are enough to get it for me. I watch him drop his leg down, and Mason smirks at me. He flys his shirt up and his singlet comes into view. More like a daring, nonchalant act.

As if bleeding before giving birth was an everyday thing for me. A new year has arrived, but old commitments remain: Hunter, with the second nomination for the Best Player award, wins more sponsors and consequently more parties, photoshoots and commercials, not that I don’t like to see him looking all hot in the photos showing the six-pack, but I feel terrible around him for not having the little perfect body that I had before.

I growled and pushed the Prowler's speed to its max, skirting the edge of the dam. I wasn't going to make it. My HUD blinked. I was in range. I pulled the trigger.

So much for a coordinated attack. Kids screaming not knowing what to do. I run in and take out my gun and shoot a wolf in the head that has john pinned. John looks over and nods in thanks and pushes the wolf off him. I shoot a few more wolves I don't recognise and every one of them drop. Wolfsbane laced bullets. A werewolves kryptonite. As I'm going around shooting when I need, I turn around just in time to see my mother's head being torn from her body.

But he had a heart of gold, he was probably the only boy I would let near my sister, ever. And that was saying a lot. “How is he?” I mused absentmindedly picking at my wilted chicken sandwich. “He’s great, he’s right here actually let me call him over,” before I could tell her not to worry because I didn’t want to disturb him. Another thing about Hiro was he was always working, always. He had a dream of starting his own game development company, and I knew he would make it one day. There was shuffling on the other side of the phone, “HIRO!”

Keon sat in the low glow of his gaming room, eyes glued to the monitor as his fingers danced across the keyboard and mouse. The rhythmic clicking echoed through the room, the sound of rapid-fire shots and explosions filling the air as he maneuvered his character through an intense solo match. On the screen, his avatar weaved through enemy fire, jumping between platforms and dodging obstacles in a futuristic, high-tech battlefield—a game that required not just skill but lightning-fast reflexes.

She wanted to start her own business, and lately, she'd been seriously considering becoming a YouTuber. She knew that there was a lot of money to be made in streaming, particularly in gaming—provided one was actually good, that is. Skylar wasn't good. She was an exceptional gamer, and her specialty, first-person shooters, seemed to be the biggest draw in the gaming space. She could stream live on either Twitch, Mixer, or whatever, and she could upload daily videos to YouTube. She could really make a name for herself.

He pressed the accelerator, and the car surged forward silently. A smile crept onto his face. The game hadn't just changed his bank account. It had rewritten the rules of his reality. He wasn't a rat scurrying in the shadows anymore. He was a wolf driving a tank. 23:00 HOURS. THE TIER 2 LOBBY. "Shotgun! I call shotgun!"