Calling Holo

Chapter II Katsu The King

In the digital world, my name isn't Ren. I am much greater than that now; I am Katsu and The Greatest of Calling Holo!

    Standing in the heart of woodland surrounded by the lush patches of grass, and trees, only was a boy with starking emerald eyes that called for attention that perfectly contrasted with his eye-catching, sun-kissed hair.

   Every detail down to what he wore, to the polyester to the gray tactical gear. Every detail was hyper-realistic, as if it were a movie, down to the very last grain... Believe it or not, this was nothing more than a video game.

   This is—Calling Holo.

   In the boy's arms, a blue holographic swathe of translucent mush materialized into a full-fledged AK-47.

   In the distance, footsteps drew closer.

   He counted down,  one... two... three... four... five approached from the opposite direction. The blonde, hiding behind tree bark, thought to himself: did they see me?

   Five units of man arrived. Clothed in black tactical gear, pockets all over, and on their heads rested motorcycle-style helmets. Their knuckle gloves matched their black semi-auto AK-47s, which they held by their sides in unison.

   This is what we refer to as a five-man—the whole get-up is optional, but a clear telltale sign of a five-man. A five-man is a group of five players, regardless of gender, who know one another and form a team. There are also two-mans, three-mans, and so on, but five is the pinnacle amount in Calling Holo; five players are the max on a team. In a shooter like this not only was gun skill at play, but so is communication, communication is everything for everyone—unless—it's me.

     "Enough about them; this is my game. I am its—King!"

   You see, I'm playing with a group of friends, (we're a four-man) but it's just me now. They were eliminated earlier this round, our fifth player is a no-name random, a complete wild card.

   These guys could either make or break your day, the one we got... not so great. No offense, but he ran off at the beginning of the round, guns blazing, not completely sure to whom the target was, the tree? Or better yet at a rock, perhaps a ghost?

   In the end, he died. Great!

   The opposition's footsteps silenced; they're slowing down? No holding position? I thought.

   Crack.

  They cracked a branch.

   Realizing, I let out a faint but audible gasp, they were slow walking on advancing on me, they know where I'm at. 

   They're putting pressure on me, and so soon? I thought.

   I lowered my gun to my side, and in my free palm, two holographic smoke bombs appeared in my hand that formed into solids. I tossed them around the corner of the tree and toward the center woodland a few feet across their feet. one, two... I popped my head around the corner, and the opposition, startled by the smoke bomb, stared down at the floor. Even if it was only for a split second, it was enough for me to capitalize on!

   I fully swung the corner and fired shots at them as they raised their rifles. As the smoke bomb exploded and devoured me, one fell to the ground.

   To them, I was now no more than a mere ghost.

   In this game, shooting someone was the key to a sure victory if they weren't the last man standing, after their hit points dropped to zero, they would get a newset of a hundred hit points but would only be able to crawl till they were revived or eventually bleed out, or better yet, finished off.