Kaiju- Battlefield Surgeon

by Matt Dinniman

  Jenk sighed heavily. “Let me guess. Clara told you this place was a playground for serial whack jobs to go online and slake their most primal desires. Anatoly is the ringmaster, and he somehow finds all these killers, and he charges them some obscene amount of money to go online and kill people in this safe, virtual space? Like some sort of a fucked-up online version of the movie Hostel?”

  I didn’t say anything. That was pretty much exactly what she’d said. It’s also what Anatoly and SmashSouth had said, too. Wasn’t it? I tried to think back on everything I’d learned, on who said what. My mind swirled.

  The dripping liquid from the ceiling had turned to a small trickle. Jenk raised his hand, and it stopped. All in a smooth motion. He’d healed it. I looked up at the ceiling of the chamber, surprised.

  He continued. “The FBI believes at any given time there are about 25 active serial killers in the United States. Me, I think that number is a little low. But still, from a business standpoint, this would be an incredibly shitty venture. It’s never a good idea to cater to such a small demographic. All those sick fucks Anatoly had found? Frank, Paulo, Princess, SmashSouth. Do you know how much effort it took to find them? Years and years. And most of the ones he found, they were too feral, too mentally ill, not savvy enough, or just didn’t understand the value of our vision. We had to put them down. But those guys he did find? And myself, too? We’re not the clients. Of course not. We’re the employees. Our official title is ‘Proctor.’”

  “Employees?” I said, incredulous. “If you’re the employees, then who are the customers?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “What?” I said. “No, no it’s not.”

  “Do you remember what I told you when we met for the first time?” He laughed. “You were all upset simply because a fat groundling kid had stuck you with a knife a few times?”

  “He’d more than just stuck me a few times,” I said.

  He pointed at me, suddenly intent. “I said that if word got out you’d managed to get amplified at full sensation, you would be a legend. It is one of the holy grails of this game.”

  I allowed that to process. “Wait. So you want me to believe that the clients are people who’d actually pay to come here and willingly get tortured? You are so full of shit.”

  “Armin Meiwes. Do you know who that was?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Der Metzgermeister, they called him. The Master Butcher. He was German. A long time ago, back in 2001, he put an ad up on a website called the Cannibal Café, asking for volunteers to come to his house and willingly be slaughtered and eaten. And guess what? He had more responses than he could handle. A gentleman by the name of Bernd Jürgen Brandes answered the ad and went to Mr. Meiwes’s home. They set up a camera, and he willingly allowed Meiwes to chop his penis off. In fact, Brandes wanted Meiwes to bite his dick off. And he tried several times, but it wouldn’t come. I’ve watched the video. It’s… awkward. So Brandes sat back while Meiwes cut it off with a knife. Then they cooked it together in a frying pan and each had a nibble. Then Meiwes stabbed him in the throat, put him on a meat hook, and chopped up his body and put it in the freezer. He spent the better part of a year eating him before he got caught. And he only got caught because he put up a new ad.”

  “I’d heard about that before,” I said. “I thought it was an urban legend.”

  “It’s 100 percent real. And it’s not even the tip of the iceberg. Around the same time another woman in the United States met a guy on the internet and talked him into sexually torturing her to death. She was married at the time, and her husband had no idea. Another case involved a woman who met a man on a Twilight message board. She talked him into strangling her to death. Those are just a few examples of people who actually wanted to die, and they wanted to die as painfully as possible. Do you know how many people have fantasies about being eaten alive and digested, or being sexually tortured, or of being mauled to death? More than you know. Some of these fetishes are so popular they have names for them. There are whole industries revolving around them. Vore. Asphyxiophilia. Piquerism. And so much more. And this world, this playground we were building, it was going to be a place for them to experience everything they desired without having to suffer actual physical harm. And those who would facilitate their fantasies would be some of the most talented, most experienced purveyors of pain this world had ever known.”

  “Fucking hell,” I said. I didn’t know what to believe anymore.

  “But, like Der Metzgermeister, Anatoly bit off more than he could chew.” Jenk chuckled at his own joke. “The proctors wanted their payment up front. Anatoly promised he could turn this game and engine into something more. He promised and promised, and he couldn’t deliver. So I shut it down. We never got to the point where we had any real clients. Not anyone other than Clara.”

  I almost choked. What? Clara?

  “So Clara’s a client?” I laughed. “No, no I don’t believe that for one moment. Fuck you.”

  Jenk shook his head. “No, you’re right. She’s not a client. Not quite. She’s a consultant. And she was paid handsomely for her work.”

  “How was she paid? She’s stuck here like me. You’ve kidnapped her fucking kid!”

  Jenk laughed. “Kidnapped? Is that what she’s told you?” He looked me up and down. “If you haven’t figured out how she’s been paid by now, then you’re not nearly as clever as I thought.”

  Chapter 71

  Jenk left soon afterward. I’d cast Resurrection on the hordes of dead zippers in the Shrill’s large intestine, and I’d had the Incision talent already plotted out and ready to go. If he’d made a move to attack, I’d have activated the talent, which would’ve opened up the intestine he sat upon, dropping him into a tube filled with ravening, undead zippers.

  But he left without incident, and I was relieved at that. I was overwhelmed with the possible revelations, one after another. Mary. Ruth. Clara. Could any of it be true?

  I went about the Shrill, healing the best I could, my mind still reeling. I killed pig spiders, regenerating my soul power.

  Banksy and Clara remained in Hell, occasionally grappling with retreating armies. I told Banksy to hold tight, to wait for me. I would be there soon, and I would bring the Shrill. But I had some things to take care of first, so it would be several hours.

  Killing Lamashtu had rocketed Banksy up to level 49.

  What was I going to do? Everything had gone wrong. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jenk and Clara and Ruth and Mary. Diego. She’d fucking named the dog Diego. And then I got mad at myself for caring about a stupid dog when my daughter was in jail, scared and all alone.

  No, not alone. Not yet. She was going to have a baby girl. I don’t lie, Jenk had said. Could that possibly be true? It couldn’t be.

  What had Anatoly said to me? I’m creating a digital playground. He’d never said anything that directly contradicted Jenk. Clara had. She’d weaved a whole story. She was afraid of Jenk, that I believed. She hated him. But I had caught her in multiple lies, too. Her story had changed. Fuck.

  What if everything Jenk had said was true? What could I do?

  For one thing, I had to finish the game. No matter what the truth was, time was ticking. I couldn’t pull it off without Clara.

  I brought myself back to my base, sat on my couch, and I pulled Count Fronz out of my bag.

  “Lad?” the caterpillar said, looking up at me. “You okay, mate? You don’t look so good. I mean, worse than usual.”

  I grasped the top of the lantern, and I twisted, opening it up. The glowing sigil under his feet faded away. The caterpillar looked down at the base of his lantern with surprise.

  “I need your help,” I said.

  “You realized you just set me free, right?” he said. “I can just teleport away from here now.”

  “I know,” I said. “I should have let you go long ago. I’m sorry about that. But I wanted to ask something of you. As a friend.”

  “Sure
,” he said hesitantly. “I’ll help you if you help me. What do you need?”

  “Two things, actually,” I said. “First, I have a couple questions about your old boss. King Vinea. And second, I was hoping you could deliver a message for me.”

  ***

  I reviewed Banksy’s stats, spells, and regen spot. At this point, there wasn’t too much I could change. Once he hit fifty, everything I configured now would become permanent. But I did have an idea. I made an alteration on his configuration in the familiar menu, and then I shot him a message telling him what I’d done.

  Banksy: Uh, father. Are you sure that’s a good idea?

  Duke: Not even a little bit.

  ***

  Entering Necroshire.

  A sundered guard startled at my sudden appearance in the transport gazebo.

  “Halt,” he cried, pulling up his gun.

  “How is it you guys still have control over this town?” I asked as I initiated my shield. I waved up at the sky. “Little Cibola is gone.”

  Before he could answer, a swarm of surgical imps appeared, overwhelming him. Sparks flew everywhere as he was brutally disassembled.

  “Hey guys,” I said, relieved. “Thanks for the backup!”

  The lead imp squawked at me. He rushed up and actually hugged me, grasping onto my neck while he clutched onto his drill. My shield was still initiated, and it formed about me like an impermeable second skin. Despite this, I could still feel the powerful hug. The hairy bastard was a lot stronger than he looked.

  I’d given them a head’s up that I was coming by grabbing myself a quick, easy upcycle I’d yanked out of a dead taurisian’s face. It changed my jawline by just a fraction, but it added +1 to my charm. Just as the upcycle commenced, I’d told them I’d be visiting and asked them to meet me at the gate.

  I called up my map. “So, guys. I’m not looking for surgery right now. I happened to notice a shop the last time I was here. It’s called ‘Superior Sigils.’ It’s only a few doors down from Shu’s shop. I need to get there. I’d go to the shop in Medina, but it’s not so safe for me right now.” A trio of sundered police cars ripped around the corner, lights and sirens blazing. I pulled my Epiviper. “Think you can help me get there? I need to buy a ton of supplies.”

  The lead imp squealed. He produced not one, but two drills. He tested the triggers, and both drill bits sang.

  ***

  I removed the potion from my pack and stared at it. I read the description again.

  Extract of Colo Colo Menses (Quantity: 5)

  This potion has a 50% chance of rendering the user Blind for a period of ten minutes, a 25% chance of giving the user Invulnerability for two minutes, a 24% chance of moving the user immediately to the next player level, and a 1% chance of imbuing all three options. In addition, there’s a 25% chance of immediately teleporting the user to the womb of Guardian Colo Colo. This is a limited potion, and the player may only consume five of these potions in their lifetime. Consumed: 0/5.

  I had initially received two of these things from Stolas, and I’d sold one. Later, just a day before Stolas had been taken out by Andras, I visited the owl a second time and purchased four more. I’d been debating whether or not to actually use these for some time. The potential benefits now outweighed the pitfalls.

  Clara told me she’d also sold one of hers, and she’d tried the second. She didn’t go up a level nor had she teleported to Colo Colo. She’d received the Invulnerability buff. A waste.

  I wasn’t too keen on the idea of being blinded and then thrown into the womb of a kaiju filled with hippo-sized rat monsters. I’d already spent more time in monster wombs than I cared to. My Potion Expander skill was a double-edged sword. If struck blind, I’d remain blind for twenty minutes, not 10.

  But I’d also go up two levels, not one. And now I had the Recall spell, so I could get out of there.

  I knew Colo Colo was currently half-floating, half-lumbering toward the city. She was easily the slowest moving of all the guardians, and she’d fallen far behind the group. She was currently traversing over the hinterlands at the moment, not too far from Bast’s stomping grounds.

  I pulled the first potion, popped the cork, and I drank. The potion tasted like pure blood, and I held back the urge to vomit. Most potions tasted like nothing.

  The world went dark.

  You’ve been rendered Blind!

  As the words faded, my interface disappeared, replaced with nothing but a 20-minute countdown timer and my health bar. I realized with horror that I couldn’t navigate any menus, which meant I wouldn’t be able to cast any spells. It was the equivalent of having Silent cast on you in other games, only way more terrifying. I clutched onto the corner of my chair to confirm I hadn’t been teleported away.

  Well, shit. That changed things.

  As I waited for it to time out, I had an idea. I tried the upward cross motion that called up the spell menu. I usually didn’t bother with the hand motions because you could pull up the window a lot more quickly with your mind if you knew what you were doing. But I made the motion, and I felt the distinctive haptic buzz of the menu opening.

  I could still cast spells. I just couldn’t see what I was doing.

  The second time I prepared the Recall spell and left it open on the top right of the screen so I’d know exactly where to click.

  I drank again.

  Level Up!

  Level Up!

  You are now level 51!

  “Yes!” I said, pumping my fist in the air. Drunk with victory, I drank the third one.

  You are Invulnerable!

  A two-minute timer started to descend as a yellow glow overwhelmed me. I quickly drank the fourth.

  Level Up!

  Level Up!

  You are now level 53!

  You may not consume another potion for sixty seconds.

  Damn. Potion sickness. I hadn’t realized that was a thing in this game. My invulnerability would wear off before I could drink the fifth and final potion.

  I spent the minute fiddling with my stats. I tossed the four points equally between strength and durability.

  Once the timer ended, I drank my last potion, hoping to get lucky a third time.

  You’ve been rendered Blind!

  Entering – Colo Colo – Womb region.

  Deep Dive Activ…!

  I was submerged in a warm liquid, legs over head as the notification faded away. I bounced off something meaty that grunted and squealed before I was pushed against what felt like a sheet of flesh that wrapped around my face, neck, and chest. I felt myself screaming, but instead I sucked in a mouthful of wet, rancid skin and a torrent of amniotic fluid.

  Warning! You’ve been poisoned!

  Damage taken! Damage taken!

  Noise erupted all around me, screams and trills and an all-encompassing vibration. The otherworldly shrieks cut through the liquid, sounding haunted and terrified and angry. Something pushed by me, causing me to twist as I scrambled into a tight ball, trying to get the flesh off my face. Instead of pulling away, the flowing skin wrapped around me like a towel, holding my head in place. Shit, shit, shit.

  My health decreased. It’d been a long time since I’d been poisoned, though, and I was a hell of a lot stronger than I was the last time. I still didn’t know if poison wore off or if it remained until cured. Thanks to my high durability, it would take a long time for it to zero me out at this rate. An hour at least, possibly longer. I had an antidote potion attached to my waist, but I had no idea which potion was which.

  I had to get out of here. I put my mind into the top corner and clicked.

  Nothing happened. I clicked again, moving the invisible cursor. Nothing. I clicked a third time. This time I felt the distinctive whoosh of the window closing. Mother god damn. I’d accidentally closed the damn window.

  Fuck me.

  A massive form pressed against me, pushing me even tighter against the amniotic sac. The skin holding my head twisted further, and I st
arted to feel enough pressure that I worried about being choked out, or worse, my head just twisting off like a soda cap. While I could breathe in water and in poison gas, I could still be choked or suffocated, and I was in serious danger here.

  I grasped my knife, and I slashed forward, cutting the sac.

  Now, I’d made a lot of stupid decisions up to this point. I am fully, 100% aware of this.

  In fact, if we took every decision I’d made since that day I sat down in front of Anatoly in the coffee shop and then listed out the stupid ones, I’m certain that list would be very long. And if we then decided to call out my top-10 stupidest moments, my impromptu decision to pierce Colo Colo’s sac of amniotic fluid would probably end up somewhere near the top.

  Chaos erupted all around me.

  Cutting open the sac had the same effect as sticking a needle into a water balloon. The same thing had happened with the Shrill’s testicle. Only this time, the balloon was filled with a couple dozen rat/slug monster babies who apparently weren’t supposed to be released into the womb at this point in their development.

  The liquid rushed away with a mighty slurp, like sewage being sucked down a drain. The mass of skin wrapped around my head did not drop away, and instead of floating underwater, I was now hanging by my face, flaying around and blind. A terrible, soul-wrenching squeal filled the chamber, followed a moment later by the bellowing echo of Colo Colo, who knew something had gone terribly wrong within her own uterus.

  I heard another pop, followed by a splash. Then another. As I hung there by my head, flailing and blind, I realized the guardian must have multiple monster-filled sacs within her massive womb. The premature rats had plummeted into the uterus and flailed about themselves, opening up more sacs, releasing more of the monsters until the entire womb was a thriving mass of biting, screaming, angry, and scared beasts who didn’t know where they were or what was happening.

  So they chewed. I couldn’t see them, but I heard them. They ate their way out of the womb and released themselves into the belly of the guardian, becoming progressively more enraged as they burrowed out.