Shu nodded. “Yes, yes. If they know you have this ability, you will be disappeared. Your only hope is to get the surgery, get to the Necroshire transport gazebo, and repair it. Once it is repaired, and all the citizens see, there will be nothing they can do. Nothing. They will stop hunting you, then. They are a logical race.”
A new quest chimed in my vision. A compulsory quest.
“And here we go,” I said.
Chapter 44
Unlike the last several times I’d been given Upcycle surgery, I didn’t teleport away at the end of it. Nor did I awaken with my health almost drained. The ceiling did not have the dripping tentacles, either. But other than that, it was all the same.
Upcycle complete!
Operation: success!
Congratulations! Your body did not reject the upcycle!
Storage Chip added to your memory.
A new menu is available: Programs
A new program has been added to your memory: quantum transport 2.4 patch.
A new program has been added to your memory: stuxworm.fuck.epsilon
I sat there for several moments, waiting for the headache to pass. I exchanged a look with one of the hairy surgery imps who still held onto a bloody drill. I sighed and pulled my pulse rifle.
“So,” I said. “What are the odds that nobody knows about this surgery, and I can just casually walk back to the gazebo and fix it?”
The imp screamed with laughter. It squeezed the drill a few times, making it roar.
I jumped down from the table.
“We are here for the worm surgeon!” a mechanical voice boomed the moment my feet hit the floor.
A warrant has been issued for your arrest in the towns of Necroshire and Little Cibola!
“Yeah,” I said to the imp. “I didn’t think so, either.”
“No, no sir,” I heard Shu say. “I do not know of what you speak.”
“He was seen teleporting in and then he went straight here. The CEO wishes to have a word.”
“This is Necroshire, not Little Cibola,” Shu said. “The CEO has no rights here.”
“The leechers have given us police authority over this town.”
“Since when?” Shu asked, incredulous.
I heard the distinctive thump of a pulse rifle.
“I think they just shot your boss,” I whispered at the imp.
The small, fur-covered monster responded by swooping around the room a few times, screaming. The bit dropped out of his oversized drill, and he replaced it with one twice as long with a jagged edge. He gave the drill a test squeeze, and it squealed. A dozen other imps appeared, all carrying surgical equipment. The drill imp screamed and zipped up the stairs on his wings, followed by his friends.
Screaming, shooting, and more screaming followed. It sounded as if the entire building was about to fall in on my head.
That was my cue. I pulled up the map, laying out the fastest path back up to the gazebo.
I burst up into the main lobby of the shop just in time to see one of the sundered explode.
None of these guys bothered with any semblance of human skin except in the face. These were white and blue androids, each about six feet tall, armed with pulse rifles a bit shorter than my Epiviper. Their bodies were made of a plastic-like composite. Only the front half of their heads were human-like.
A second android fell to the floor, sparks bursting from where his head once was. I ducked as a pulse crashed into the ceiling above me. Splinters shattered.
Christ, I’m fighting my own people more than I’m fighting the demons.
A third sundered aimed at me and fired. His name was Sixty-Two.G – Little Cibola Loss Prevention Sentry (Level 25). His shot went wide as he was tackled by a screeching horde of hairy imps. The imp with the drill placed the tool against the android’s eye socket. Sparks started to fly.
I glanced down at Shu. He wasn’t dead. The bug struggled to get back to his feet.
“You need to get downstairs,” I said.
“Wait,” he said. “Bernadette had another program in her memory. Something she was working on. She had help making it, I think. Help from a demon scientist. It’s an access…”
A sundered sentry burst into the room, and I fired, killing him as the imps swarmed.
“Go,” Shu said. “Hurry.” He waved weakly at me. The front door of the clinic had been kicked in. I burst into the alley, facing two more sentries. Both of these guys were level 18. I took them out with a pair of shots.
My exit to the alley was blocked by a sleek, white and blue police vehicle that hovered a foot off the ground. It looked like something straight out of a 1950’s sci-fi comic. Long and finned, the convertible rumbled like a muscle car. Blue and red lights pulsed on the undercarriage. The driver and passenger door were open, and the car was empty. I was pretty sure I’d just shot the car’s previous occupants.
The odd vehicle didn’t have a top, but it had a black-tinted windshield that swooped up like a ski jump. The car also featured a mounted gun in the back seat. The tall, black pulse rifle glinted in the neon light.
“You,” I said, pointing at the drill imp floating behind me. The flying horde of imps had followed me into the alley. These creatures appeared as NPCs on my minimap, but they didn’t have names floating over their heads. “You want to have some more fun?”
The imp squealed, revealing two rows of tiny, sharp teeth.
“You think you can fire that thing?” I said, pointing at the mounted pulse laser.
The imp tossed the drill over its shoulder and zipped into the car. I was dubious the small guy could work the trigger, but he hauled himself behind the gun and started firing it indiscriminately into the main street. People screamed. The neon ramen sign of the shop next door exploded in sparks.
I rushed to the car, slipping into the driver seat. I prayed it would let me drive.
The moment I sat down, a menu popped up.
Flash Ep-12 Cruiser?
I had no idea what that meant, but I clicked Yes.
A quick loading bar appeared, and the engine roared to life.
You have gained control of this vehicle.
“Only shoot the sundered sentries. And anyone else who shoots at us,” I cried. The imp saluted then turned back to the gun. I watched with horror as he aimed and fired at a random—and elderly—shade gremlin. The old woman hit the deck, screaming in horror.
“Don’t shoot the good guys!” I yelled again.
The imp shrieked with laughter. But he stopped shooting.
The controls on the car were simple. It had a U-shaped control yoke, reminiscent of old jet planes, though it more reminded me of the steering wheel from the 1980’s Spy Hunter upright arcade game they had at my favorite bar. There were two pedals and a shifter that controlled forward and reverse. That was it.
Before I allowed myself to think about the pure insanity of jumping into a flying car less than an hour after I was squishing around inside of a kaiju, I pushed forward on the shifter. I applied the gas. The car eased smoothly onto the neon street.
Four new status bars appeared in my vision. Speed, altitude, vehicle energy, and mounted gun energy. I also had an Eject and Blow Core button.
The “Blow Core” button was in a different font and color than the rest of the text on the screen. It seemed added on, a product of the program that gave me access to the car, and not a button most drivers regularly had. I assumed it was a self-destruct button. Hopefully I wouldn’t find out.
There weren’t too many cars down on this level, but there was a street of sorts. Most of the traffic down here was scooters and hoverboards. I had to reroute my escape. I’d come down to this level via a grate and stairs. There appeared to be a ramp about a quarter mile down the street.
Three police vehicles ripped around the corner, barreling toward me. A sundered stood at the mounted gun on all three, and they poured fire at us.
The imp made a squeaking noise that sounded like it might have a question mark at
the end of it.
“Yes,” I said. “You can shoot at those guys.”
My imp gunner returned fire with glee, and I jammed the pedal. I pulled the yoke, rising about seven feet in the air, allowing the scooter and hoverboard riders the chance to dive for cover. The low ceiling streaked by above me, close enough that I could reach up and touch it.
I smashed through a neon sign advertising battery packs. The whole vehicle bucked again as a blast ricocheted off the bottom.
“Hold on,” I screamed as we approached the circular ramp to the next level. I pulled a hard left and had to jerk up higher to avoid a pair of emerging scooter riders. But at the last moment, I saw these were more loss prevention officers. I pushed down on the yoke. They crumpled against the front of the car.
I realized belatedly this was a one-way ramp, and I was going the wrong way. But it did go all the way up to the top level of Necroshire. I pushed forward.
Another police car turned the corner, coming down the ramp. I cringed, preparing for a head-on collision.
At the last moment, I pulled up, and the other car pushed down. More sparks flew as my car crunched directly over the other one, metal screaming against metal. The driver ducked in time. The gunner in the back did not. The top half of the android smashed against the windshield. Blue fluid gushed from his shattered body.
“Halt,” he screamed. “You are under arrest!”
My windshield shattered a moment later, glass exploding against my face.
“Gah,” I cried, surprised. I instinctively slipped right, and the front of the car shrieked as it scraped against the wall. An ominous whine emanated from within. Several lights blinked on the dash.
The android was gone, a liquid blue smear on the hood.
I realized the imp had shot him. The pulse had whizzed by my ear. He’d shot him directly through the windshield.
“Let’s try not to shoot me in the back of the head,” I said.
The imp cackled gleefully.
We burst out onto the top level. I pulled up higher, rising into the night.
Above and to my left multiple, military-style vehicles poured out of the black tunnel. There had to be at least 15 of them. Each one was covered in guns. These were tanks, each about four times the size of my police car. Other cars scattered at their approach. They turned in my direction, glowing barrels coming to bear.
Shit. The gazebo was directly below. I circled down. A cannon boomed, and a blue pulse ripped over my head, sizzling as it passed. It hit the street, detonating with a deafening explosion, killing people and destroying buildings.
Holy crap. This was a bit overkill. These guys weren’t playing around anymore.
“Jump,” I cried at the imp as I jammed on the Eject button. I vaulted away. The chair didn’t go with me. Suddenly I was in the air, and then I was falling. Oh fuck.
The imp ignored or didn’t hear my command to abandon ship. He poured fire into the oncoming tanks. The armored fortresses shrugged it off. The police car exploded before I even hit the ground.
I slammed to the ground, bones shattering. I screamed. I cast Reconstitute.
Shrapnel spun through the air. A burning hunk of metal buried itself into my arm. I cast Reconstitute again, zeroing out my soul points. Smoke obscured the entire street. It was pure chaos. People ran amuck, cars squealed away in every direction. Charred bodies littered the street.
“You morons,” I cried as I scrambled toward the gazebo. I fell onto the platform, my whole body screaming in pain. I’d gotten up too soon. Not-yet-healed bones slipped as I attempted to run, breaking all over again. I grasped a heal potion from my belt and downed it.
I had no idea how to administer the program and whether it took soul points. The moment I pulled myself onto the platform, a notification appeared.
Flash Gazebo?
I clicked Yes.
A loading bar appeared. It raced across the screen.
Success! Gazebo is now active.
I blinked. It had taken less than five seconds. The entire gazebo lit up, a pink neon tube snaking around the edges. The word “Necroshire” appeared above the stand.
Experience Earned!
You are now level 26.
“How do you like that?” I screamed at the tanks. I could barely see them through the billowing haze of the smoke. I flipped them off with my good finger.
The last thing I saw was the barrel of a tank blooming a bright blue.
Chapter 45
You have died 14 times.
Due to your wanted status, your regeneration location has been overridden.
Entering Loss Prevention Security Office.
I sat at a desk, facing a female sundered. I shook my head, trying to clear the jitters. Fourteen times. It didn’t get easier.
This was the first time I had seen a woman android, I realized. I stared stupidly at the name over her head.
Nine.B – Assistant Vice President of Loss Prevention (Level 47)
I’d been arrested. It was an ages-old feature of games. If you’re wanted, and you’re killed by the guards, you end up in jail. That’s the way it was. I cursed Shu. He’d said the moment I repaired the gazebo, it would be over.
“Duke,” she said. Like the sentries, she wore no clothes and had only the human face, surrounded by the plastic composite. She had an odd, electronic lilt to her voice, like she was talking through a fan. “You were charged with multiple violations, including failure to heed a summoning by corporate, 11 counts of unauthorized disassembly of Epsilon property, attempted hacking of Epsilon Holdings, three counts of domestic terrorism, and multiple traffic violations. You have been tried and found guilty.”
“What?” I said. “I don’t get to attend my own trial?”
She ignored me. “You have two options. You may pay the fine or you may serve your jail sentence.”
“Okay. What’s the fine?” I asked.
“9,999,999 teeth,” she said.
I just stared at her. One less than 10 million teeth was the most amount of teeth a person could carry on them at one time. “I have a couple items that might be worth that much if you let me sell them, but I don’t have nearly that many teeth on me.”
She picked up a tablet and tapped away at it. “Since you can’t afford the fine, you must serve your full term. You have been sentenced to the maximum allowed jail term in the city of Little Cibola.”
I realized with a start I wasn’t in Necroshire anymore, but on the other side of the tunnel. In Little Cibola. I tried to pull up my map, but it wouldn’t load. Horror rose as I’d remembered something Anatoly had said to me.
“What is the sentence?” I asked.
“You will serve 90 days,” she said.
Panic overwhelmed me. Ninety days? “No, no,” I said. “I can’t be in jail that long.”
A pair of composite hands grabbed me from behind.
Anatoly’s words echoed in my mind. You serve your sentence in real-time. There’s nothing anybody can do.
The screen flashed. I recognized what that meant. A cutscene had just triggered.
This is too much. This is too much.
I screamed as I was dragged away.
Part 4 – Medina
Chapter 46
Feedings Left: 14
Warning: Your feeding apparatus is running low on sustenance. Administration has been notified.
I squinted as I stepped out into the bright lights of Little Cibola. My Epiviper and pack magically returned to my shoulder the moment I stepped outside. I almost buckled at the surprise weight.
Three months. Ninety days.
I’d had books, at least. And television. This was something Anatoly had programmed in as a mercy. More likely than not he’d added it for his fellow clients in case they found themselves locked up. It was inconceivable a lowly consumable such as myself would ever find himself in a situation where they’d get arrested. The cell had been relatively large, about the size of my first apartment. It had an actual worm surgeon f
ood box, which disgorged a small, fuzzy creature on demand that choked and died and then dissolved the moment it was let out. It gave me a jolt of soul energy.
I didn’t need it anymore thanks to my Bernadette upcycle, but the game allowed me a single spell, Reconstitute. Everything else from skills to programs to the rest of my spells was blacked out.
In all, the existence was much more comfortable than I could’ve hoped for. I’d read about people going insane after just a week of solitary confinement. I’m sure I would’ve, too, if I hadn’t received access to all that media. Anatoly or whoever programmed in the books had a thing for old science fiction novels. I read the entire Honor Harrington saga and all the spinoff books by David Weber. That alone took half the time. Then came the Commonwealth Saga books by Peter F. Hamilton.
I also caught up on several television shows. The world was going to complete shit, but most channels still played their shows like nothing was going on. One channel played the entire Simpsons run back to back. It took something like three weeks, though it had already started when I got in there. I found myself watching it more than was healthy. I watched that entire miniseries on the moon colonization that won all those awards. And I watched a lot of really old shows like Matlock and Gunsmoke.
The news channels documented one disaster after another. A series of earthquakes had rattled up and down the Pacific Rim, throwing tsunamis in every which direction. Japan was talking about relocating their capital like Indonesia had done a few decades back. India and Pakistan were shooting at each other. A terrorist attack had leveled Notre Dame in Paris right after they finally announced it had been fully restored. Russia was shedding states and eating others. Again.
I hadn’t seen anything—not a thing—about Anatoly and Frank and all the others.
Until a few days ago.
Several stations had breaking news stories about a new development in the case. Police were in a desperate search for something, a possible victim of “The Frankenstein Facebook Conspiracy” who was still alive. They didn’t give details on how the victim could still possibly be living after all this time or how they knew this now. But literally thousands of law enforcement agents from the United States, Canada, and Mexico were mobilizing.
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