Meta Slaves - Looking For Group: Chapter 1

New series called "Meta Slave" I'm working on. It's going to be my iteration on the Litrpg genre, but with my own twists.

Synopsis: In "Meta Slaves," a tight-knit crew of gamers rise to notoriety in a full-dive MMO where the AI is so lifelike, it creates a vibrant and unpredictable world. United by their chaotic personalities and adherence to the game's ever-shifting meta, this band of troublemakers leave a trail of salt and chaos in their wake as they outsmart their competition along with the AI's sophisticated NPCs as they exploit the evolving ecosystem. 

The game's regional shared world becomes their sandbox as they tear their way through PVP zones with cunning ruthlessness and outplaying their opponents in high-stakes encounters. Their controversial in-game behavior—skillfully toeing the line of the game's rules—earns them a reputation that's whispered about in every virtual town. From strategic kill stealing in safe zones to the subtle art of ninja looting, these gamers manipulate and power their way through the game, infuriating the player base and game staff alike. 

Follow their journey as they push the boundaries of what's possible in the virtual realm, showcasing their diverse gaming prowess and leaving an unforgettable mark on the MMO's landscape. "Meta Slaves" is a must-read for any gamer who's ever dreamed of dominating their favorite game and leaving a legacy that will be remembered long after they've logged off.

***


Jeon Junho stared at the computer screen, his eyes glazing over as he listened to another customer scream at and berate another 'valued' Client Experience Consultant over the phone. It was a cute new name for what Brandon disdainfully thought of as a wage slave used as a punching bag, made to tank the hate from customers because suits wanted to implement completely asinine policies, cut corners, and slash budgets.

The irony wasn't lost on him. Here he was, trapped in this hellscape of cubicles and forced positivity, while his mind wandered to the new massively multiplayer online role-playing game that was getting more hyped than god. 

And it would be hitting the market today. 

Almost as if compounding on the discomfort, the incessant fluorescent lights overhead cast their clinically white glow on Junho's pale skin, making his messy black hair look like polished obsidian. 

Junho slouched deeply into his chair, causing his pale frame to cast a long shadow across the grey carpet. He couldn't help but feel absolutely fed up with this soul-sucking job as he rubbed the dark circles under his almond-shaped eyes. Five days a week for close to nine hours a day, he had to sit in this hellscape of an office, listening to his colleagues be berated as he graded them as a quality assurance specialist. 

All day, he would sit at his desk, listen to recorded calls, analyze live interactions, and fill out endless spreadsheets rating every aspect of consultants’ customer service skills. It was mind-numbing work, made worse by the knowledge that the managers and the executive branch hardly came into the office in the first place.

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A groan left Junho's mouth as he essentially pushed his eyes in with the palms of his hands pressing into them. He longed for the days of being someone who was Not in Employment, Education, or Training. A NEET, spending countless nights at his gaming rig until the late hours of the morning, playing games with his roommate, being an absolute toxic rat. Those were the days—no responsibilities, no soul-crushing job, just pure, unadulterated bliss.

"I understand your frustration, ma'am," the consultant's voice quivered, barely audible over the customer's tirade. "We value your loyalty and—"

Unable to take it anymore, Junho muted the replay before flopping back into his chair. The leather creaked in protest, much like his spirit. He stared at the ceiling, counting the water stains, and wondered how many more mind-numbing calls he'd endure before escaping into a better world.

The new game beckoned to him like a siren's call. In just a few hours, he'd log in, create his character, and leave this dreary reality behind. No more fake smiles, corporate bootlicking, or mind-numbing evaluations. Just him, his crew, and a whole new world to conquer and exploit.

"Hey," A voice that barely rose above the ambient noise of ringing phones and clacking keyboards. "Hey, JJ."

Still leaning slouched back into his chair in a lazy fashion, Junho rolled his office chair back without moving a single muscle except his legs. He essentially popped out from his cubicle and looked down to see the few people he was close enough to call him ‘JJ,’ his roommate, Brandon. 

"What?" JJ asked as he slid deeper into his chair and fixed his eyes on the tall, pasty white, lanky man with light brown hair sitting in his own strange position. "What do you want?"

Brandon adjusted himself a bit and said one word, "Lunch?"

JJ’s eyes turned to the side as he thought about the prospect briefly before saying, "Ya, sure." He pulled himself up from the chair with a yawn. "Why not?" JJ’s voice cracked mid-stretch as he made his way over to Brandon.

"Thank god," Brandon said as he shot to his feet, sending his chair rolling back to hit the wall behind him. "I was just a few seconds away from headbutting my monitor."

A deep, rumbling sigh left JJ's mouth as air vibrated his lips. He took one last good look around at his surroundings and noticed that everyone was equally depressed while running a hand through his hair. "Christ, I hate this place, " he added before approaching the soundproof door.

When the two left the quality assurance room and entered the office space where HR and Payroll worked, they noticed that the atmosphere shifted into something more vibrant and lively. Banana leaf umbrellas covered cubicles, shielding them from the harsh lights. The walls were painted a rainbow of colors with posters of different clients the company supported, and the cubicles were full of personal items and decorations. 

But what made the two wince harder was that the HR and payroll workers talked and laughed while idling on their phones. The treatment between the two departments was like night and day, making JJ even more resentful towards his managers than he already was.

As the two roommates walked down the line of cubicles, a very dark-skinned woman popped her head out of one of the meeting rooms, showing off her long cornrow braids that flowed all the way down to her lower back. A pair of thin, rectangular glasses framed her face as she looked around in interest before spotting the two making their way through her section of the building.

"Brandon, JJ!” she yelled out, waving her hand happily. “You guys off to lunch?"

JJ and Brandon immediately recognized that the head belonged to Whitney. They had spent a good part of a year working with her on the call center floor before they were all promoted. While the toy men went to quality assurance, she went off to payroll because of her associate's degree.  

"Yeup,” Brandon replied in a somewhat slurred fashion as he rested his hands behind his head and replied. “Thinking about hitting the food truck. Why, want something?"

A hum left Whitney's mouth as she fully revealed herself and stood in the door frame with a finger on her chin. She tapped her foot on the ground as she thought while the two stared at her with deadpan expressions, cursing the precious time she was wasting. Whitney was always one just to sit there and be consumed by decision paralysis.

Brandon groaned as he allowed his arms to flop to the side in exasperation. "Come on, let's go," he said annoyedly, urging her to hurry up with a few claps. “We're on a timer, and the clock's a-ticking."

"Seriously, Whit. We've got, like, what, 45 minutes? And that's if we're pushing it." JJ felt the same mild frustration that always came with dealing with Whitney when she had to choose what to eat. 

Shooting up an eyebrow, Whitney looked the up and down with a harrumph. "Excuse you," She shot back in mock offense, "It's not like you two are going to do anything other than sit around and bullshit."

A scoff left Brandon’s mouth as he rolled his eyes. "Ya, and we wanna bullshit at our leisure before we go back to the slave's den." He gestured towards the sound-proof doors of the quality assurance room. "So excuse us for wanting to enjoy every second we have away from that pisshole."

Whitney groaned and facepalmed, "Fine, fine. Get me a bean burrito with cheese and extra guac."

At this point, JJ extended his hand with open palms and gave her an expectant look.

A strange and inquisitive expression formed on Whitney's face as she tilted her head to the side and squinted her eyes at JJ’s hand. "What?" she said, pinching his finger between hers like it was some disgusting piece of trash. "What is this? What are you doing?"

"The hell you mean? You're buying YOUR OWN food, right?" An incredulous tone left JJ’s mouth as his eye twitched.

Letting go of the finger, Whitney took a few steps back and just stared at him as if he were an alien. The look on her face read that she found the words spoken to her profoundly troubling and an indictment of JJ’s character.

"This is why you don't have a girlfriend." She accused after a few moments of silence.

JJ recoiled back from the mental damage before he lifted his hands up as if to block physical blows. “YO!” he nearly shouted before taking a step back. “YO! What the shit!?”

Brandon's eyes widened at the burn as he inhaled sharply and doubled over. The man did everything in his power to suppress the laugh threatening to overwhelm him as his roommate flailed around as if he had just been kicked nuts. 

Meanwhile, Whitney's hand was covering her mouth as she snickered. It seemed she had managed to score a critical hit with that one. 

"Relax, relax!" she said, chuckling, before continuing, "I was just joking, jeez."

Fully righting himself, Brandon took his hands and dragged them across his face, revealing a mischievous smile. "She was..." he tried to get out with a shaky voice as he tried to dispel the stupefaction from such a vicious blow. “She was definitely not joking."

An angry glare came Brandon's way as his roommate pointed an aggressive finger at him. "You! You shut up," JJ  barked Defensively. “You're the LAST person that should be talking mess!"

Whitney, still giggling, waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, come on, JJ. You know we love you. Even if you're cheap."

With his mouth flapping like a fish out of water, JJ struggled formulating a coherent thought as he looked between his coworkers. "I'm NOT cheap!" He waved his hands as if that would make her stop laughing. "I'm not cheap! I just gave up!"

But before anyone else could respond, another voice rang out from a cubicle right next to them. "You don’t need to tell us that." A Latina woman in an office hair with short, dark hair rolled out while munching on chips. "We figured that out a LOOOONG time ago." She added with a smug smirk.

Once again, JJ recoiled as if hit by another wave of mental damage. His eyes widened to the size of saucers. He snapped his eyes to the woman and recognized her as Isabel, someone he had trained years ago.

Reverberations from the jab ran through his body as if each word was a physical blow while his complexion cycled rapidly from pale shock to burning red embarrassment. Ultimately, it settled on a sickly shade somewhere in between as he tried to get another word out 

"Wh-what…?" he blinked incredulously as he turned around and stared at the newest addition to the roast fest before looking at Whitney, who covered her face to stifle the roar of laughter that was threatening to leak out. 

After realizing there was nothing he could say or do not to be the butt of the joke today, JJ threw his hands up in exasperation and shouted, "Why is everyone attacking me today!? What did I even do!?"

Clearly enjoying the spectacle, Isabel's smile widened after popping another chip into her mouth. "Existed, mostly. It's just too easy, JJ."

Brandon, who had been trying – and failing – to maintain his composure, finally lost it. He burst into laughter, clutching his sides as if they might split. "Oh man," he gasped between laughs, "Oh man, this is brutal!"

"JJ, honey, you're just... you're just you,” Whitney added as she wiped a tear from her eyes. “And we love you for it. Even if you are a hopeless, cheap bastard."

JJ stood there with his mouth opening and closing silently. For a moment, it looked as if he had turned into a particularly confused goldfish. "I... you... this is workplace bullying! I'm going to HR!" He finally managed to sputter out.

Isabel snorted before turning around and pointing at the brightly colored sign at the back of the wall. "JJ, sweetie, this IS HR, " she said before turning back to the man. We're just preparing you for the real world."

JJ's face cycled through another impressive array of expressions as he tried to think of something witty. He usually always had something smart and asinine to snap back at them with, but it seemed today he finally got a taste of his medicine. 

In his words, he finally got, got.

“Just…” JJ’s hand shot out towards Whitney as a spiteful look clouded his features. “Just give me your goddamn money.”

With a shit-eating grin plastered all over her face, Whitney spun on her heels to snatch up her purse before digging around it. The woman presented a crisp ten-dollar bill before JJ quickly snatched it out of her hand with a disdainful glare and stormed off. 

As he made his way towards the doors, the sound of the girls fading cackles felt like a cheese grater to his ears. However, this was all compounded by Brandon’s own chuckles as he followed close behind. 

The man's mirth felt more like a stab in the back, which caused JJ to grumble discontentedly. “Don’t worry; y’all will get what's comin’ to you, " he murmured to himself before pushing open the next set of doors.

After the two finally made their way onto the call center’s main floor, the laughs suddenly ceased. What awaited them on the other side was nothing short of a literal visage of hell. Rows upon rows of unwalled desks dotted every inch of the massive hall, and each of them was overlooked by a team leader in a raised chair, like some dystopian overseer.

The cacophony of call center representatives going through the motions was as deafening as it was overwhelmingly oppressive. Each depressed and defeated face was either reading off scripts or profusely apologizing as barely audible voices tore into them from inside their cheap headsets. It was a stark contrast to the lively HR department they'd just left and a grim reminder of the soul-crushing reality of their day jobs.

By this time, the smile on Brandon’s face was wiped clean off, and an uncomfortable cringe took its place as he stepped past someone he had just marked with failing grades. He knew for a fact that this was their last chance, and they would most likely be canned for the unbearable ‘mistake’ of standing up for themselves. They had pushed back against the customer's unreasonable demand and politely informed them that what they were asking for was impossible in no uncertain terms.

This, however, was a grave mistake in the eyes of the executives. How dare such a lowly employee challenge the divine decree of the customer, the ultimate authority in the company's hierarchy? The customer was always right, even when they were wrong, and any deviation from this sacred mantra was seen as an act of rebellion. To the executives, this wasn’t just a failure to please a customer but an outright defiance in the face of their authority.

The two roommates sped past everyone, trying not to make eye contact, desperate to reach the doors that led to the parking lot and, ultimately, the food truck—their brief respite from this corporate nightmare.

"Jesus," Brandon muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. "Sometimes I forget how bad it is in there."

JJ nodded grimly as he glanced at the despair that was etched into the faces of every employee trapped in this fluorescent-lit purgatory. "Yeah. Makes you appreciate the little things, like, you know, not being on the phones anymore." He replied before letting out a soft grunt as he rammed his shoulder into this last barrier that blocked them from the sacred sanctuary of the parking lot. 

Once outside, a deep, satisfied sigh left JJ’s mouth as he closed his eyes, lifted his arms, and tilted his head up. "FREEDOM!!" The man yelled loudly. “They may take our lives! But they won't take our freed-ACK!”

Suddenly, JJ jerked forward as Brandon pushed him from behind, causing him to yelp and stumble forward. "Ya, for only forty-something minutes, so hurry the hell up." Brandon chided, narrowing his eyes as he stormed past.

A slight grumble of protest left JJ's mouth as he begrudgingly followed along to take up a spot in the growing line for the food truck. It was apparent they were going to be here for some time, and he only hoped it was only going to be for five or so minutes and not half their lunch like how some days went when trying to get food.

As the two took their positions in line, they simultaneously dug into their pockets, pulled out their cellphones, and began scrolling through whatever social media app they fancied.

Time seemed to pass as they inched closer to their ultimate goal, but suddenly, Brandon's voice piped up. "Bro! The launch trailer is out!" he shouted out excitedly, angling his phone so JJ could see.

JJ snapped his head up, eyes going wide, yelling, "Yo! No way!" before positioning himself to get a better look. A pitch-black screen greeted him, and slow, tension-building music filled his ears. 

Then, a feminine voice spoke up, soft and measured in tone. "Do you know what kind of creature waits patiently for their own death?"

The screen then showed a tall, narrow-figured woman with vibrant orange hair slowly taking off her lab coat. She stood in what looked like an elevator, her piercing gaze fixed on the rough, knight-like man before her. She observed him carefully, noting his rigid posture and militaristic demeanor.

He stood silent, encased in armor that seemed to blur the line between man and machine. Dark grey, modular pieces of armor perfectly snapped into place atop a powered exoskeleton and created a seamless and intimidating silhouette. Each piece snapped into place perfectly, creating a seamless, intimidating silhouette. The armor plates were angular and sleek, designed for both protection and mobility.

As Dr. Calloway's eyes roamed over the man, she couldn't help but admire his armor's design and the fear permeating off of him. She noted the tension in his shoulders, the almost imperceptible twitch of his armored fingers. Even with all that protection, he was nervous. He was scared.

As he should be. 

The air became thick with anticipation as a long silence stretched between them, and the oppressive atmosphere didn’t let up until the armored figure bent his head down in deference. 

"No, Dr. Calloway." He finally answered in a gruff voice slightly distorted by the helmet's audio system.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Dr. Calloway's mouth as she dropped her lab coat and closed her eyes. Just when the door opened, she said one word with a voice that oozed with disdain. 

"Sheep." Dr. Calloway answered just before she opened her eyes to see a group of organized warriors just outside.

Each was clad in similar armor to the one beside her, and each parted as the sea parted for Moses. She stepped out of the elevator before them.

Dr. Calloway strode forward, her heels clicking ominously against the metal flooring as he made her way toward a massive facility flush against a thick wall. The building itself was enormous and otherworldly. Its sleek, curved walls glistened with a strange sheen as they curved upwards against the ceiling of the structure they were already inside. 

As she approached, the doctor could see the nervous faces of the guards stationed at the entrance. Their eyes widened in recognition as a mix of respect and confusion clouded their faces. 

"Dr. Calloway," one of them stammered, "what is the purpose of this visit? With so many..." His voice trailed off as he took in the intimidating force behind her.

The doctor's eyes hardened as she raised a singular hand to the confusion of the guards. With a casual snap of her fingers, two of her soldiers stepped forward, and in a fluid motion, they drew their weapons. Two long, sleek swords covered in runes vibrated and had strange energies that cracked with arcane power. The runes ran up and down the edges of the blades as they left their sheaths.

But before the guards could react to the sudden brandishing of weapons, the soldiers struck. The blades sliced through the air with a sound like tearing reality, passing through the guards' armor as if it were paper. There was a brief yelp of fear, muffled gasps, and then silence.

Dr. Calloway stepped over the fallen guards as a beautiful and delicate smile spread across her face. "And I," she spoke with a voice full of melancholy as her men rushed into the facility. "Will be the shepherd this flock needs."