The Feedback Loop (Books 4-6): Sci-fi LitRPG Series (The Feedback Loop Box Set Book 2)

by Harmon Cooper

  “Tom Myspace,” says Red proudly, “our attendant.”

  Doc: NPC.

  Sophia: Definitely.

  Me: You can tell?

  Sophia: Duh, he has a handle.

  I stop myself from making a joke about how all Thuleans look alike as I’d prefer not to have Sophia start up with her whole racist-fascist-chauvinistic-disembiggening tirade this dive around. Also, I promised myself I wouldn’t get on her bad side. Any more than necessary. Unless she gives me a really good opening. Or Doc starts up first. Or I feel like it.

  Doc: Speaking of social media, does anyone else remember Tom from Myspace?

  Me: Myspace?

  Frances Euphoria: I just found his picture. He seems like a nice-looking guy in his white t-shirt and his big smile.

  Rocket: This conversation makes me feel old.

  Doc: You ain’t the only one!

  Sophia pipes up, “Just out of curiosity, did you two undergo the Koon-ut-Kal-if-fee?”

  Frances Euphoria: Thulean for ‘Ceremony of Life-Bonding One-nesshood’.

  Me: Of course it is.

  “Yes,” they say as they join hands. Blue stands on her tippy toes and gives Red a big kiss on the cheek. No, Thuleans don’t really blush, but he does give her the Aw, shucks look and digs the toe of his hideously overpriced footgear into the leaf litter.

  “It was magnificent,” Blue reminisces, “They actually threw a certified NPC virgin into the ice volcano for us. We were married out there in the other space, and thought that it was fitting and proper that they do the same here as reborn player characters.”

  Frances Euphoria: That’s so-o-o-o-o cute.

  Sophia: Agreed.

  Rocket: C U T E.

  I have to know. “Which one of you croaked first? OW! DAMMIT!”

  Sophia gives me the ‘mother in the supermarket’ stealth pinch, and hard, too. “QUAN-tum,” she hisses.

  “What? Aiden would have asked if I hadn’t.”

  Morning Assassin nods. “True statement.”

  “No, it’s fine,” says Red, “really. I passed first. Undiagnosed prostate cancer. I just kept putting the exam off. I just wasn’t that keen on what I thought was an unnecessary and embarrassing invasion, if you will, of my privacy. By the time she finally got me to see my ObamaDoc, it was too far advanced.”

  Doc: Listen and take heed, you young guys. Colonoscopy ain’t a bad thing either.

  “I joined him less than six months after.” Blue adds. “Kevorkian holiday in Canada, because I didn’t like being apart from Red. Sure, we could spend time in the Proxima Galaxy, but I would eventually have to log out to maintain my biological avatar. I was spending at least eighteen hours a day in the PG, so I made it official. Anyway, we can tell you the whole story later. Why don’t you join us back at our bungalow? It has been ages since we’ve had player character guests.”

  “So we’re not commoners to you?” I ask.

  A small healing potion appears in Red’s hand. He drinks half, hands the rest to Blue. “We’re not gamists,” he says, “like many Thuleans. If you ask me, it’s really ironic that a RPC would refer to a PC as a commoner seeing as that RPCs were once PCs themselves. So no, like I said, we’re not gamists; everyone in the Proxima Galaxy deserves respect and human dignity.”

  Tom Myspace cocks an ironic eyebrow, gives us a small bow and turns to the Thulean couple. “I shall return to the residence and prepare the place for our guests.”

  Blue nods. “That’s fine, Tom, we’ll catch up with you.”

  Me: So they’re fine with real people, but they use NPCs like servants. Anyone else getting that vibe?

  Doc: I’m definitely picking up on it.

  Sophia: You two can be so biased and negative.

  Doc: How about we save our VE dreamworld All Lives Matter debate for another time?

  “Our place isn’t far, just before Chachat,” Red says, “not more than a twenty-minute walk from here. Oh, and please, if you will, have your NPC go ahead to check the path for any dangers or obstacles. Tom isn’t so good at that.”

  Aiden clenches his fists, relaxes them.

  “Easy, fella,” I say under my breath.

  He disappears slowly this time, lowering into the ground as if he were moving down an escalator.

  Frances Euphoria: As your in-game monitor I advise you to not say anything.

  Me: How’d you know?

  Frances Euphoria: How much of a stretch do you think that was? I know you pretty well.

  Rocket: I do too and let me be the first to tell you, I think you’re the tops, Q-Popz.

  Me: Nope, that name won’t work either. But now that my Steamboy cover is blown, I think I’m due for a tune-up.

  Rocket: I’ll get right on that!

  Frances Euphoria: Sophia, I’m a bit confused. Why would RPCs, who can be any level they choose, be losing to a hippo-dragon monster thing?

  Sophia: Gunsyakhai, that’s its name.

  Rocket: … Gunsyakhai, that’s its name – O!

  Sophia: When will the sophomoric humor end?

  Me: When we become juniors.

  Doc: I’m a senior and I still haven’t stopped. Go figure.

  Sophia: Anyway, Frances, to answer your question, they likely put a handicap on their levels to keep the game interesting.

  Doc: So we really didn’t need to save them after all?

  Sophia: Not really, but this is a good thing, as it indebts them to us and the Thuleans are known for their hospitality. And if we don’t do or say anything to upset or annoy them, STEAMBOY, they’ll for sure give us the entry stamp we need to get into Athos.

  Me: Ah, so that’s why they were getting their asses handed to them by the dragapotamus, or was it a hippogon?

  Sophia: *facepalm*

  Me: I know, it was a stretch, but I went for it, and I’m glad I did.

  Doc asks, “What were y’all doing in this neck of the woods anyway?”

  “Ah! Good question!” Blue squeezes Red’s hand. “He simply loves the dingleberries that grow in this part of the forest. They’re gre-e-e-a-A-TT!”

  Me: The what?

  Sophia: The Chachat Forest is famous for its dingleberries.

  Doc: What’s the Thulean word?

  Sophia: Dingakhbor; dingakhboree is the plural noun. It’s irregular.

  Me: I’ll say.

  “So the dingleberries are to die for, huh?” I have to look away not to snicker.

  “The dingleberries are amazing!”

  A bunch of dingleberries lowers from the air, as if it were suspended on an invisible rope. The bunch vibrates and the sugary snow sifts off the berries. Talk about a robust berry! Monsanto would be hard-pressed to gengineer a berry to reach the same size and overall healthy appearance of the Thulean dingleberry – each one is the size of a golf ball, the persistent calyx four shades lighter than the bottom of the fruit. They look mad juicy, aside from the fibrous exteriors, which I’m assuming one must peel off before consuming.

  “You want some?” Red asks as a formality. He retrieves another bunch and hovers them in front of my face.

  Me: Should I take these?

  Sophia: It would be disrespectful not to.

  Me: Fine, fine, but they’d better come in handy.

  “Thanks,” I tell him as I add the bunch of dingleberries to my list, brand new item 581. “I’ll eat them later.”

  “Suit yourself.” Red pops a few in his mouth letting me know that I assumed wrong about the edibility of the fibrous exterior.

  Three berries separate from the bunch and lower into his wife’s mouth. Since no one has asked it yet, I figure now would be as good of a time as any. “So, as you mentioned earlier you were at the tournament?”

  “Yes, we were there!” Red almost spits berry juice in my face. “In fact, the blast from your weapon actually killed our manservant, Tom. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that type of gear before.”

  “The Thulean I fought, she used something called … ’ I turn to
Sophia.

  “Konoshlo, ghost limbs.”

  “Yeah, ghost limbs. Which you just used to get the dingleberries, if I’m not mistaken.”

  I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn around and see nothing. “Yeah, real funny.”

  Blue asks, “How much do you know about Thuleans?”

  “Not a lot aside from the fact that people are obsessed with them all over Tritania. That’s about it.”

  Sophia starts to comment but Red beats her to the punch. “Thuleans are humanoid descendants of dragons. It is said that eons ago, a dragon fell in love with a human and the result was the first Thulean. What can I say? You can’t stop love; love will find a way. More dragons and humans fell in love and an entire race was created. Now, people can convert to Thulean once they reach a certain level; however, they can never convert back. Most RPCs also chose the Thulean race because it gives them full access to Athos, which is by far the best city in Tritania.”

  “By far,” sycophant Sophia slavishly agrees.

  “So what are the ghost limbs then?” asks Rocket.

  “Ghost limbs are what’s left of the dragon wings. Think of them as invisible bones that have grown hands.”

  “So Thuleans can fly?”

  “Some can and some can’t. Most prefer to keep the ghost limbs with the hands that can grow or shrink in size. They are most handy this way. See what I did there? Those that choose to have wings only have the wing function. They can’t, for example, pick dingleberries from a tree. I suppose they could fly up there, though, and pluck them.”

  “Neat-o,” I say as we approach a path cut into the snow. I purposefully step into the snow to feel the satisfying crunch beneath my feet. “I’ll need to get me a pair of those.”

  ~*~

  There goes our nice walk down a quaint country road.

  An angry, scaly skirt with a Medusa hairdo spawns before us and kicks up tufts of snow. Her handle flashes – CourtneyLuv 99 – and not seconds after it flashes, ten female Vampirellas pixilate around her.

  “You will pay for what you did to BramToker.”

  “I would leave now if I were you.” Red Vine steps in front of his wife. “You’re on our continent now, and you will not bother our guests!”

  “Everyone cool their jets for a second.” The handles of all her compadres flash on my vision pane. They each share the same name, Penanggalan, and I get the itchy feeling that they’re an NPC mercenary group. “Who the hell is BramToker again?”

  Rocket: The vampire at the tournament round. The one you blasted with Doc’s hack and the spider gun.

  Me: I know who it is. Play along.

  Sophia: JEEEEEEEEEEZ. How old are you?

  Me: 38 going on 32. And all those extra ‘E’s doesn’t make it more ‘Jeezey’.

  “You know exactly who he is,” CourtneyLuv99 grits. “And you know why I’m here as well.”

  “Oh! You mean Count Jerksalot! The Big, bad, level 70-something player-slayer who gets his teensy little rocks off killing noobies? Stuck in the real world not working out for him real well? His mom tired of him hanging around in her basement, bingeing on Cheezi-Poofs and Diet Soylent Cola, whining like a little bitch about how unfair it all is?”

  “Aha!” Red grins at Courtney. “I remember that match now. Your friend had his ass handed to him, remember that one, honey?”

  Blue thinks for a moment. “You mean the PKer with the My Chemical Romance outfit?”

  Doc laughs. “Finally, a reference I can appreciate!” He turns to CourtneyLuv99. “Listen up … um … what are you supposed to be anyway, Mrs. Lizardy Cobain Snake-wig? It sounds to me like he got what he deserved,” Doc continues. “Maybe he can spend the next week contemplating his crap life choices and actually get out in the fresh air and sunshine and seek some … ” He chuckles before he can finish. “ … seek some enlightenment!”

  The snakes on CourtneyLuv99’s head hiss as their tongues lash between their fangs.

  Me: Doc, you remind me of me!

  Doc: N-a-a-ah, no-one’s as a big a shit-talkin’ fool as Mr. Legendary Quantum Hughes, but I will admit that I do possess some small skill at it.

  Me: Spank-you very much!

  The trumpet sounds and the roulette wheel starts with its carousel o’ death spin up.

  “Please be real-time, please be real-time, please be real-time … ”

  Lucky us. The ball lands on black and I charge forward, my hand behind my back scrolling to item 61, the Lone Ranger’s six-shooter with genuine silver bullets. I never thought this would come in handy but I picked it up anyway (either in the industrial area outside The Pier or a trashcan in Three King’s Park, can’t remember). AA Bar activated, I fire three rounds and down goes three of the blood-sucking bimbos, screeching as red smoke gouts out of their wounds.

  My life bar takes a 5% cut; one of Hell’s Handmaidens is gnawing on my arm as if it was corn on the cob. A flash of silver and her body drops away from her head; her teeth stay clamped for a moment longer before her eyes roll up and she un-chomps me.

  “All part of the service,” Aiden grins as he wipes his Slice Bang on her cape.

  In a blur of flying steel, two oversized throwing stars sail past my ear into the face of another Drella Diabolique wannabe.

  Me: Wowsers, Rocket!

  “That’s how I roll,” he says as he engages the three I shot earlier. You’d think silver bullets would be the ultimate argument settler for Nosferatu and other such manifestations of the supernatural made flesh, but it seems that they’ve re-undeaded or something, which makes me wonder if they’re on the same regeneration stuff the Empress’ knights were.

  A pair of be-caped Elvira knock-offs attempt to double team Doc, but he’s all over them like domestic abuse charges on an NFL player. He blasts them into pink mist with some high-speed, low-drag shooting iron I don’t recognize. Whatever he’s packing, it makes my Halo M6s look like muzzle loaders. I start to yell, Keep the change you filthy animal, but I’m interrupted by a wave of blinding energy from CourtneyLuv99.

  The blast sends me backwards straight into the large root of an overturned tree.

  Tired of monkeying around, I equip hackie, item 554.

  Feed me!

  The familiar voice echoes inside my skull as the weapon grows to epic proportions, not quite my Bustermarm sword, but bigger than h-e-double-hockey-sticks nonetheless. The “Ice or Norm” switch changes on its own to Ice and a blue vein creeps up my arm. Hackie blasts a Mistress of the Dork on the left, freezing her mid-attack, and the switch returns to the “Norm” position. The weapon grows even larger.

  “You going to cut a giant French loaf or something?” I ask as sharp points grow from the bottom of the blade. Veins bubble and pop on my arm as hackie makes his way up my shoulder, stopping just past my collar bone.

  No time for a snarky quip – Hackie gooses it towards CourtneyLuv, dragging me behind him. AA bar activated, I stop just in time and use my forward momentum to vault both of us into the air a la Sergey Bubka and WHAMMO, I bring the blade down hard on BramToker’s main squeeze. Sliced in half she goes and boy it ain’t pretty, especially once hungry tulip corollas spray off hackie and attach to Luv’s flailing parts.

  “Damn, Hackie!” I shout as the weapon almost snaps my arm off. It turns into a large, gnarled jaw and goes to town on what’s left of the PKer.

  Sophia: WTF WAS THAT!?

  Rocket: Caps … ALL CAPS … MY EYES!

  Me: I keep meaning to ask someone about that.

  I hear the muffled report of weapons fire close by. Turning left, I find a new hole in the face of one of the female vampires. The gun barrel retracts back into Aiden’s mouth and sure, his life bar takes a hit for using an illegal weapon, but the gat-in-the-mouth trick is totally worth the penalty.

  Frances Euphoria: They keep healing and not dying!

  Doc is doing the shoot-and-scoot thing like he invented it – and who knows? His weapon is a large diameter tube on a rifle stock, and every time he touc
hes the firing stud the weapon goes BRRRT and blows a Penanggalan’s head into vapor – which puts them down for just as long as it takes for the vapor to coalesce into a new head. The weapon goes dry; he pops the tube off the stock, inserts a new one and goes back to BRRRT-ing.

  Frances Euphoria: This is getting real dark, real quick.

  I’m just about to do this the old fashion way and equip my Lestat Vamp-B-Gone undead eradication kit, item 272 – which consists of garlic-infused sparkling Holy Water and silver nitrate in a classic, crucifix-bedazzled Super Soaker 50, personally blessed by Pope George Ringo – when Sophia throws her jazz hands in the air.

  “ENOUGH!”

  The Maila Nurmis cease their attack. They jerk, shiver, twitch, and tear into themselves like starving wolves on a three legged deer in a bacon suit. One rakes sharp-clawed fingers down her face to drag the flesh into her mouth; another gnaws her own arm off like a nightmarish Petey Otterloop. A third has torn open her abdomen and is shoveling ragged handfuls of her own internal organs down her neck. Yes, they’re only – only – NPCs, but it’s a gut-wrenching spectacle all the same.

  Rocket lowers his sai. “Holy Schnikes! That’s got to be the Flesh Stripper spell!”

  Sophia barely acknowledges with a nod, and continues to regard the feeding frenzy with clinical detachment as the vampires pick up their pace and gorge themselves on themselves just as quickly as they rejuvenate. Aiden keeps his eyes on Sophia’s study in autosarcophagy, admiring her handiwork.

  Frances Euphoria: We don’t have to watch this, do we?

  “No, let’s move on.”

  Both Thuleans give floating Sophia the hairy eyeball. “That’s a pretty strange spell,” says Red as he grips his wife’s hand and shudders. “Never seen it before.”

  “Gruesome,” Blue says.

  “Flesh Stripper,” she tells them. “Only Black Mages can cast it, and I’m a Mind Mage, but I possess a relic that allows me to use the spell.” She lifts the bottom of her robe and shows them her anklet. “Believe it or not, I found it in a second hand shop in Valhalla, yet another reason I totally love that part of Porthos. You can find things there that you can’t find anywhere else … ” She turns to me. “It’s too bad I can’t go back there.”