The NextWorld 02: Spawn Point by Jaron Lee Knuth

a large gray cloud that hangs over what used to be the city park.
    “It's going to require some precise timing, but when that things comes near us, I want you to jump on top of it.”
    The eyes of the team grow large, but Cyren doesn't flinch. She accepts my words without hesitation. Her strength emanates outward and the rest of the team finds their bravery in her, settling back into a firm, defiant stance.
    “Use everything you've got,” I say. “Carve into that thing. Open up wounds that our sniper and demolitions teams can exploit.”
    “Yes, sir!” the entire team shouts with a salute.
    When they spread out to take their positions, Cyren lingers. Her face softens. She reaches out and wraps her fingers around my arm, squeezing a bit.
    “It's a good plan.”
    I let out a breath. “It's a plan. We'll find out how good it is if we survive.”
    “We couldn't do this without you.”
    “I know. You need my Level to-”
    “No,” she says with a sharp yet quiet voice. “We need you . You're an amazing player. You can look at this game like no one else does. Not even us.” She gives me a knowing smile. “And they programmed us to play.”
    “Sometimes I think I was too.” I look out over the world, watching the worm delete everything I've held dear to me. “All that time, in all those games... I always felt what I was doing was important. More important than I could explain to anyone else. It was like every shot, every kill, every skill I learned... it was all building up to something.”
    “Maybe it was.”
    “Maybe,” I say.
    She grabs my face, her leather gloves holding on to my cheeks, forcing me to look into her eyes.
    “No matter what happens today, no matter how this turns out, whether we win or lose, you must know how cherished you are in this world. You've already sacrificed more for us than any other player ever has.”
    I do my best impersonation of someone confidently accepting her words, but when I turn away from her and look out over the city, only to see the worm dive from the sky and devour half of a shopping mall, I can't help wondering how many more sacrifices I'll be making.

00110111

    The robotic cyclops counts down for his sniper team, timing their first shots all at once. The rest of us stand with our weapons gripped tightly in our hands. I tap my foot as each second counts off. When the cyclops reaches zero, and the four sniper rifles fire in unison, it makes me jump. I'm not startled by the noise. It's the simple release of anticipation, the thrust into the present. I can't think about “what ifs” anymore. It's happening right now. I need to stay ahead of the game.
    The bullets strike the thick skin of the worm, but they leave no trace of damage. The worm continues on its path, carving into an already bombed-out office building twenty blocks away. Its gargantuan body digs into the ground, leaving a pit of nothingness where the street used to be, before turning back up as its programming tells it to.
    “Again!” I shout.
    The sniper team fires. Still nothing.
    It doesn't exactly inspire anyone. Is this thing following the same rules that we are? Can it take damage? Am I misreading it because of its graphical representation? I ignore my doubts. We have a plan. We have to stick to it.
    “Keep firing!” I turn to the rest of the group and yell over the gunfire, “If it doesn't change its movements, at least we'll know when it's coming for us.”
    It doesn't take long. The worm devours entire city blocks in just a few swoops. As it destroys a nearby complex of buildings, the demolitions team steps up. Rockets stream across the sky and explode in blooming clouds of fire as they strike the worm. We all wait with anticipation as the smoke clears. There is an unspoken reaction of disappointment that washes over us when we see the worm descend toward the street without a single mark.
    The sniper team continues to fire. The demolitions team releases six more volleys of rockets before the