by Ben Ormstad
“Yes, yes, I will do anything.” He nodded rapidly. Eyes wet with tears. “Please, get me out!”
“Hold still.” My pulse thundered in my ears. I carefully, yet efficiently, slashed all chains and ties from his head, wrists and ankles. When done, he got up, but tumbled forward and landed on his knees. I helped him back up, steadied him by gripping his shoulders. “Been here a long time?”
The intricate tattoos that split his face in two contracted as he grimaced. “Yes. Two days, I think.”
Arching my eyebrows, I said: “Two days? Stuck in the chair?”
He wiped his teary eyes, nodded. “The scientist-pigs left me here and never returned.” A subtle smile. “But maybe I was lucky.”
Seeing how sophisticated Ayamii was, who definitively was an NPC – or so I thought – I tried to determine if this guy was a Player. Hard to tell, but I erred on the side of real person and said: “But why didn’t you just force-quit the game?”
“NO,” he yelled. Pointed a shaking finger at himself. “I never chicken out. Ever. Bad personality trait. Chickens die while foxes eat. I am a fox.”
“Whoa, chill out, man.” I took a step back. He was a Player, all right. A damned serious one, at that. “Just a question.”
“It is good. No problem,” he said and bowed. “Sincerely thank you for helping me.” He stretched out a hand.
Too aware of the black smoke infecting the air, I just wanted to run, but took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. Shook his hand.
“Hiko Yazuka. Level 2, Battle-Marine,” he said in an overly formal tone.
“Dex Walsh,” I replied. “Also Battle-Marine, and, uhm, Level 4.”
Still somewhat bowing his head, he continued: “It is an honor, Mr. Walsh. I am at your service.”
“Whatever, man,” I said and shrugged to let him know I didn’t care about formalities. Pointed a thumb over my shoulder. “We need to get outta here, but the entire lab is on fire. To be honest, I’m more worried about the smoke, though.”
Hiko swiped the long, black hair behind his ears, exposing two fat silver rings dangling in both earlobes. “That is the only exit. However, I might have an idea. Follow me.”
28
Hiko Yazuka brought me to a row of shelves. While he rummaged around for equipment, I unclipped the walkie-talkie and said: “Frida, you there?”
The sudden static noise was cut off by her voice:
“Yeah. Remember I told you some of the genetic freak shows woke up?” I said. “Well, out of nowhere they all suddenly woke up. I dealt with it, but we’re paying the price now that the entire lab’s on fire.”
“If you can’t, you can’t. I found a dude down here that seems to have an idea. If the smoke clears up, then feel free to come down, if not, well, then just wait a minute, will ya?”
“That would be great. Ask if Ayamii knows how to activate the fire sprinkler system… if there is any. Gotta go.”
Hiko lifted a yellow full body decontamination suit out of a cardboard box. I reached out a hand to take it, but he withheld the suit. “Who was that?”
“Friends.”
Still withholding the piece of clothing, he said: “Real friends?”
“Come on, man, what do you mean ‘real’?”
He stepped closer, his tattooed face stern. “Are they to be trusted?”
“Yeah, I mean, so far, so good, okay? Jesus.” For a Level 2 über-noob he sure had some attitude to work on.
“I guess that will do. Here, protective wear. Take it.” He threw it to me and grabbed another one for himself.
Getting the feeling this guy was a bomb waiting to get ticked off, I decided to lie low at least until we’d escaped.
The suit’s rubbery material rustled between my fingertips like a dry sort of plastic. “This won’t melt close to the fire, will it?”
“Do not know. Maybe,” he said, both feet already inside his suit. “But with a gas mask attached the smoke will not choke us. Hurry.”
Staring at the black smoke whirling thick around our feet, I had to agree. No matter what, it would buy us some time. “True,” I said, opened the yellow suit and jumped in. Spacious enough that my backpack, weapons and all fit inside. I zipped it up to my throat and pulled the hood over my head.
Hiko gave me a gas mask and protective glasses. “Here. Secure correctly for optimal protection.”
“Yessir! How did you know about this?”
“Spent a lot of time in the chair while the scientist-pigs worked,” he said, fastening his mask. When he spoke again, the voice filtered through the mask and sounded distorted and high-pitched like from a low-quality speaker: “They always put on these suits before starting the experiments. They have no qualms about putting innocent people and animals through gruesome genetic experimentation, but are extremely scared of it themselves.”
“Really?” I said and finished strapping the mask over my mouth and nose. The inside smelled of chewing gum and cigarettes. “I thought most of them were already genetically enhanced in some way or other?”
Hiko shrugged. “Do not know. Have not been here long enough.”
As soon as I got the protective glasses on, I forgot all about our conversation. With every move, the now knee-high smoke curled around our legs. Swirled like slowly flowing water. I couldn’t see my boots anymore. And why didn’t the fucking fire sprinkler system automatically activate? I had turned on the electricity, so there shouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t believe for a second the daemonorgs who’d designed this place weren’t smart enough to take a potential fire into consideration.
“There.” Hiko pointed to a ventilation grill under the ceiling.
“No good. I don’t fit in there.”
“What? No,” he said, pointed lower. “There.”
“Oh!” A fire symbol decorated a cargo hatch underneath.
As I passed the entrance, I glanced out, seeing only smoke and the orangey, flickering light from flames getting closer. I should have turned on the god-damned showers! They would have provided a tiny, but helpful barrier for the flames.
We reached the wall hatch and found it sealed shut. A message popped up:
Find Hatch Tool to unlock Security Hatch
I looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Where the hell do we find a hatch tool?”
“I do not know. And it does not matter,” he said, wedged his fingers in between the edge of the hatch. Using his bodyweight, he pulled at it, creating a small gap. “Quickly, use your blade to cut the lock’s hinges.”
Clever, I thought, equipped the Ripper machete and stuck it into the hatch gap. “Nnngh!” I grunted to generate enough force to slice through the steel hinges of the locking mechanism. A loud crack sounded as they snapped and the hatch forcefully opened, sending Hiko rolling backwards onto the floor. Waves of dense smoke whirled about him. He coughed while getting back up. Wiped a hand over his mouth, then patted my shoulder. “Outstanding, Mr. Walsh.”
“Thanks.” I smiled. “Fuck the hatch tool, amirite?”
Suddenly grinning like a little kid, he said: “You are absolutely right, Mr. Walsh.”
If he could laugh at that – at a time like this – then maybe he wasn’t too bad. I gestured at the three fire extinguishers now freely available in the wall compartment, plus a fire hose coiled around a wheel. “Too bad the hose won’t reach all the way out to the main laboratory,” I said and grabbed two extinguishers instead. “These won’t last long, but better than nothing.”
+2 Fire Extinguishers – Medium Size (req. 1 Item Slot each)
Extinguishes a moderate amount of fire. How much, you ask? You’ll just have to w
ait and see!
Alternative uses are also possible. Use your imagination!
Hiko’s laughter died, and he gave me a firm nod before fetching the last red container. Removed the safety pin, took hold of the extinguisher’s hose and bolted for the exit. A swirly path in the black smoke trailed after him.
Saving one extinguisher for later, I loosened the safety pin on the one I equipped and ran after him. Before leaving the area, I shot a glance at some advanced, scientific machines that had tickled the back of my mind ever since I arrived. Through the foggy protective eyewear, I noticed something flashing green. A new wave of sensing washed through my being and insisted I check it out.
And so – cursing myself – I stopped. The nudging was too direct.
Hiko’s shadow in the fog grew as he returned. Eyes blazing behind the goggles, gloved fingers gripping the extinguisher tightly. “What are you doing? We must go!”
“I know, I know,” I said and pointed at the unknown thing flashing green somewhere in the haze. “I just really have to check that thing over there.”
His voice screeched high-pitched through the gas mask-filter: “Mr. Walsh, are you insane?”
“Yeah… in the membrane,” I rapped in the melody of Cypress Hill’s well-known hit from ’93, and winked stupidly at him. “It’ll only take a second. Or two. Promise.” And with that, I sped back across the room.
As I closed in on the advanced machine and viewed it without the interference of smoke, it became clear it was connected to all six chairs in the glass cubicles. Tubes and cables went from each one separately, held together by steel wires, then led back to an outlet on the lower part the shelf-sized machine.
The greenish color flashed around a panel of buttons, dials and small screens showing moving graphs as if monitoring heart rates. Below the panel, a closed lid was marked with a symbol anyone would understand: A hand with a diagonal line crossed over.
Scratching my sweaty forehead through the suit’s hood, I turned to check if Hiko was still here. He was, stood there wrapped in smoke and scowled at me like I’d just murdered his entire family. I refocused on the machine; had to keep my attention on the unknown, yet undoubtebly important task – according to my sense.
“Okay, so what am I doing here?” I said out loud, to keep my mind from wandering. “Maybe this?” I tried opening the lid, but the switch didn’t budge. Still, it seemed to be the important part here, since it flashed a more intense green than the rest. “What about these?” I babbled, staring blankly at the rows of unknown buttons and knobs. None of them stood out to me as anything special, so I just clicked everything. Lights above the panel turned on and off. The moving graphs on the screens stopped. “Is that a good thing?” I whispered, steering my mind away from the smoked-up, burning building. Then, after pushing a big, red button, all lights became red. “Maybe now?” I said and tried the lid again. Nope, the switch still wouldn’t cooperate.
“Mr. Walsh,” Hiko’s voice echoed in the smoky haze.
I closed my ears to him. Took a step back, feeling cold sweat trickle from my armpits and down my sides. The decontamination suit was ridiculously hot. How stupid wouldn’t it be if I just passed out from the heat right now? The mask’s air filter wheezed as I breathed in deeply.
“Focus, goddamnit,” I said and examined the sides of the machine. Slid my gloved hands all the way down each side, just sensing. There. Down by the power outlet where the cubicle cables connected. A switch. A big, solid one.
I flipped it.
An unmistakable sound of the huge machine shutting down vibrated through it, until it fizzed out completely. Now the red lights turned off as well.
“Now, then?” I said and tried flipping the lid’s switch again.
It worked!
“Mr. Walsh,” Hiko yelled at the top of his lungs. “I am leaving!”
A sudden burst of aggression flooded me. I turned and shouted back at him, waving my arms: “If you gotta chicken out and leave, then leave! But shut the fuck up!”
Through the protective glasses, his eyes opened wide before narrowing back to a scowl.
He didn’t move.
Returning to the machine, I pulled the lid open with shaking hands and uncovered a mess of computer components and wiring on the inside. Again, nothing stood out as especially important.
A gush of frustration blossomed in my chest and mixed with the boiling adrenaline in my veins. Why couldn’t it just be a regular, easy-to-collect item like in normal games? I wanted to scream. Stuck my entire hand inside, grabbed hold of a bunch of wires and computer cards, and ripped the shit straight out. Tiny cables snapped and chipsets broke to pieces as I kept going back for more, until the little compartment was cleansed – only stumps remained.
Waving away gushes of smoke continuously filling every inch around me, I peeked inside. Scrutinized the green color which still flashed every three seconds. On the innermost wall, another lid with a symbol of a hand and a diagonal line drawn over became visible. This whole machine was like a never ending Russian Matryoshka nesting doll, containing smaller versions of itself inside each new layer. I grit my teeth so hard jolts of pain zapped my jaw.
“Please, Jesus, Krishna, whoever the fuck! Let this be the end of it,” I mumbled and inched my too large arm in. Turned the switch on the new lid. Opened it.
An incandescent, green light shone from a white box reminiscent of a WiFi router. Epic orchestral music with thundering drums played as I loosened it from its socket.
+1 Quest Item – Nuclear Modulator (req. 1 Item Slot)
With the correct know-how, a nuclear modulator has a wide range of possible, advanced usages, such as creating machinery with extremely sophisticated functionality.
Without the required know-how, however, it’s still a pretty cool paperweight.
“Wow. Did not expect that.” Then, as I pocketed it, another notification appeared:
QUEST UPDATE
LOCATE GENETIC RE-ASSEMBLER PARTS – COMPLETED 1 OF 2
Help Ayamii find the two parts needed for the mishaps’ community doctor to complete the Genetic Re-Assembler:
1) Nuclear Modulator – V
2) XP Transmutation Core
Pretty happy about my Sensing ability – and probably the Lucidity ability as well, since I had brains enough to pay attention to it – I wondered whether the remaining item was somewhere in the proximity. But somehow, the sense intensity had all but disappeared.
Suddenly something grabbed the back of my suit and dragged me backwards forcefully. My heart nearly exploded from a spike of ultra-fear… until Hiko’s voice said:
“I am sorry, Mr. Walsh. We must go now.”
Nearly stumbling, I turned around and swung my arm upwards. Hiko’s fingernails scratched the suit’s rubbery material as he dropped my collar. Heaving for breath and squinting to make out the difference between the fog on the inside of my goggles and the smoke outside, I said: “You scared the living crap outta me, dude. Don’t ever do something like that again. You understand?”
Utterly serious, remarkably calm, he said: “Mr. Walsh. Look.”
Another spike of fear stabbed my chest. The fire had reached the entrance of this room. Meter-high flames licked the walls and doorway. Paint curled, bubbled and fizzled, leaving the metal plates underneath bare, glowing red from the heat. The wood paneling along the ceiling and door’s edges cracked and popped, spurting embers.
Cold claustrophobia filled my body. “Oh, shit…”
“It is too late now.” Hiko lifted his fire extinguisher. “These will not suffice now. Whatever you found, I hope it was worth it.”
“It was required for a quest, so yes, it was. But why’re you being so defeatist, huh? Aren’t you a fox? I’m no fox, but you don’t see me giving up. Come!” I tugged at his sleeve as I ran back to the storage compartment where we found the fire extinguishers. Crouching in the smoke fog, I felt my way to the correct item and pulled out the coiled fire hose. “Did ya forget this? Becaus
e we can use it now. Roll it out.”
I clutched the nozzle and returned to the entrance, while Hiko prevented the hose from knotting itself up on the way. Aiming the nozzle at the hungry flames scorching the entrance, I turned the hose handle. A broad water stream shot out from the nozzle. The kickback had such power I was forced to steady it with both hands, feet locked to the floor.
Dense clouds of evaporated water rose to the ceiling as the flames sizzled and fought to survive. I pushed closer, drenching the small ones first. Slowly, the fire withdrew from the entrance, leaving the doorway steaming hot, wet and cracked.
“How’s it going?” I shouted without turning.
“Good,” Hiko answered. “Maybe ten meters left of the hose.”
I kept the water pressure going until we advanced out to the large hole used to dispose of failed mutants. About to pass beyond the hole, the nozzle wouldn’t stretch even an inch further.
“We have reached the end of the hose’s usefulness,” Hiko informed. I felt the weight of it double as he dropped it and came up beside me. “Let it go, Mr. Walsh. It has fulfilled its purpose.”
Even if I wanted to scream from frustration and exhaustion, I threw away the fire hose and suppressed a chuckle. Shaking my head and smiling, despite our dire situation, I said: “Hey, no offense, but who are you, dude – a 70-year old nobleman from the days of yore?”
“No.” He gave me a humorless stare behind foggy goggles. “For your information, I am a 51-year-old businessman.”
And so the suppression of my chuckle became Mission Impossible. “What, seriously?” I said and laughed.
Remaining unaffected by my outburst, he said: “Yes. Shall we continue?”
“How the hell did you wind up in OVERTAKEN ONLINE?”
“Mr. Walsh, we will discuss these matters at a more suitable moment in time. As of now, the entire laboratory is still burning.”
