Vegas7games Net Novels & Stories

Dad grabbed Mom by the arm and shook her violently. "That day, I saw two lottery tickets on the table. Was one of those the winning one? You won and didn’t tell me in advance? "Helena, you’re getting more and more bold, aren’t you?" Thanks to my earlier reminder, Dad finally remembered that Mom had bought lottery tickets that day. He shook her even harder. "Where’s the money? Bring it out! With that money, I can pay off all my gambling debts. We can even move into a bigger house! Didn’t you say you wanted to travel? I’ll go with you. We can even go abroad!"

Seven renewal certificates. Every single one had my signature and Corbin's. A note from Maya was clipped to the top: "He thought collecting all seven would summon you back like some kind of twisted fairy tale." I stared at the documents, and a slow smile spread across my face. Fated mates? If seven rejections could still be called fate, then nothing in this world was an accident. I gently pressed the call button on the phone. "How may I help you?" the bellhop asked, returning quickly.

Because, unlike Moscow, there was very little radioactive interference here, I could see a digital marker of where my allies were in proximity to me. Our team composition was haphazard at best-with only four mechs total, we were lacking some serious firepower. My Crusader was a decent close-to-mid-range fighter but was flimsy without its shield and terrible at hitting targets from far away. Both Kitt and Taewi had chosen the Russian mech known as the Veles, a squat green fighter that dominated at close range. Its greatest strength was its leaping ability-much like the indomitable Exodus, the Veles could spring high into the air thanks to rockets embedded in its rear hull.

They also said he’s absolutely deadly. If the U.S. government is hunting me, I don't need a bodyguard. I need a monster of my own. I need to find Viper_77. And to do that, I need to get online without pinging any traps set to catch me. I walk for six blocks, keeping my head down, until I see the flickering neon sign of a place called "NetZone." It’s a relic, a 24-hour gaming café that smells of stale Red Bull and unwashed bodies.