“And you’ll catch up?” He asked.
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Course I will.”
He went for the recommendations that appeared, and came up with Hunt (oddly enough), along with Survey and Resourcefulness. He had two dots in Hunt, so…
“Cheepledeep?” He called. Why couldn’t he remember this kid’s name?
A 4 and a 2. Great, he didn’t even get a Plot Point out of the deal. He also saw Sigourney’s rolls, since they were part of a Group Action, a 1 and a 5. Their luck was awful. Still, one wedge of each clock filled in, along with the concerning message Secret Complication.
He switched over to Resourcefulness. Maybe the game would provide him a hint. Another 4. Seriously. The complication was the upgrade to a Risky situation, with two more red clock wedges filled in, and only one green.
“Freeglefrack?”
No, he was hunting down the kid. Hunt. He tapped it, and wondered if he was helping any by checking under the ships and around their landing struts. This hangar was partly built from a natural rock formation, held up by steel struts, and the rest of it was shoddy prefabricated construction. It was also absolutely enormous, like half the size of a pro sports stadium. A wide range of ships were docked here, which was pretty cool in and of itself.
It was way too quiet in here. No crews working on ships, no necrolites lounging around talking about whatever necropolis-worship-related talk you could feasibly expect. Man, he wished Meredith were here. Sigourney was hot, but she wasn’t his friend. He considered Mare one of his bros.
This Hunt came up 9 and 10, which was a complete success, but along with Sigourney’s 2 and 10, they managed a Critical Success. He pumped his fist in the air and enjoyed the four new wedges that filled in. He heard some shuffling up ahead, and wished he had a radio to contact her.
“Nifflespliff?”
This next roll resulted in a 2 and a 5, but Sigourney helped with a 9 and a 6. The final three wedges filled in, and as they did, a new clock took its place: Subdue the target.
“Hey buddy,” he called, as he spotted the little alien’s shadow peeking out from behind some cargo crates. “We need to get you off this ro-ahhhhhh…”
The little blue thing turned toward him, rising up eight feet tall and every inch of its skin going purple, then finally deep red. What had been harmless claws stretched out before his eyes to three inch knives, and the frilly stretch of spines down its head and center of its back elongated into wicked barbs. It opened its mouth and roared.
It slammed one of the crates back away, making it look like a kid’s play toy, then two hulking steps toward the newer, hotter Kered Mingham. The re-skinned Kered opened his mouth and squealed like a sissy.
The thing careened toward him, and looked about ready to put a seven foot arm through him when Sigourney leapt out of nowhere and ripped him out of harm’s way. He spun and rolled on the ground, while the game informed him that she’d spent Stress Points and Level 1 Harm to protect him.
“How do we–“
“Stun setting,” she barked, and pulled a roll-and-fire maneuver. The gun gave off a bloop! noise, and shot several rings of bluish energy at the red monster. Two wedges of the Subdue clock filled in, along with two more pieces of the Reinforcements arrive clock, which had stubbornly remained even though they’d found the kid. Crap!
Although he had to admit, whatever evil mastermind had come up with the clock system was a thrill-creating genius.
He brought up his own gun and searched in vain for a setting adjuster. Gah, this game! After a few moments, he clicked a tiny lever aside with his thumb and blasted the thing with a second stun bolt. Lucky for him, his Hunt rolled up a 6 and a 9, which filled in the last two segments of Subdue without affecting the red Reinforcements clock. The clock vanished.
“Grab a ship,” she panted. “I’ll tie him up.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Chapter 14 - Dial 8675309 . . . For Revenge!
Meredith was in a perpetual snarl when she stormed back into her office. Her anger boiled all her worst imaginings and reduced them to a sort of hate sauce. Sigourney was undoubtedly going to ride the bone train to Derek Town. She was going to paint the whole inside of the ship white. And then she was going to take Derek to the darkest places in Access Level 0 and show him all the carnal delights Meredith had intended to show him. Somehow Sigourney knew all about Meredith’s plans; she was one of Meredith’s Prestige rivals, or better yet, an untraceable mercenary of infiltration and fornication. She thought furiously about all the other Prestige employees she’d ever talked to in the company
Never mind that none of these thoughts made any sense; to Meredith all of them were at least partly true. This clearly ran deeper than Meredith’s feeble, worthless imagination. The only question was how much was true, and how much she didn’t yet suspect.
She located the PENIS, now hating the name, and climbed in to head back to the administrative levels. The entire ride was just an invective tsunami. She combined all the worst words she knew in all the worst ways, like ‘blistering cunt racket’ and ‘syphilitic ass raptors, just converging on my position.’ Again, there was no point, no rhyme, no reason, just a torrent of fury, and she was hip deep in it.
Soon enough she reached her office, let the door slide close, and screamed. This was her refuge, a sound proof and high tech private lounge dedicated to keeping her sane. A mini bar graced one side of the room and she immediately started towards, then reconsidered.
Privacy first. Goddamn privacy.
Meredith stomped to the door console, selected privacy, and quickly keyed in her admin access code. 8675309 - beep, “Do Not Disturb order approved” the console informed her. Then she went back to the bar and ran her pointer finger across the rare and expensive brands situated within. Honey Darkness, Velvet Rose, Paul Bellow– all topnotch brands that would do a hell of a job knocking her out. But she wasn’t here to get drunk– she just wanted a little liquid comfort. Something sharp and tangy to light her up. Rolling past a quarter million dollars worth of booze, she hit a button and listened to the secret drawer at the bottom pop out and clunk. Rainbow Red, that cheap and hard whiskey with a side of tangy power drink. She’d hid it so visitors wouldn’t see her cheap taste in the stuff.
As if I ever have visitors, she scowled, pulling the bottle out with one hand and a shot glass out with the other. She juggled them a bit, steadied, and then walked carefully over to the desk and set them down. Then she popped the plastic cork, and poured, sweet tang stinging her nose and bubbles fizzing in cheer. Cheer up, they seemed to call. Let loose and have some fun.
I’ll have some fun alright. Down the hatch, there you go, that’s a good Meredith!
It stung a little as it went down, and she shook her head, retching just a little. The first shot was always like that. Then she grabbed the bottle and poured another one. That one went down smooth.
Then she took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths to focus on the coming vengeance.
For a few minutes, she just watched the action from the Space Opera Crossbreed (and hated the term Crossbreed, which she’d invented just about eighteen months ago). The rolls and complications reports scrolled by on a side feed. Clocks were created, partially filled in, and passed. XPs were gained. Sigourney and Derek succeeded in circumventing the additional security, and slipped out of sight before any other necrolites appeared. They entered the hangar and had their pick of future sex pads.
“Ships,” she hissed. “Stop thinking like that.” Sigourney wouldn’t be getting down and dirty with Derek if Meredith had anything to say about it.
Eventually they selected a ship, a Ehcsrop YM-69, a heck of a choice considering that it didn’t look like much but was the pick of the litter from everything within the hangar. It had plenty of armaments and a powerful engine built for tremendous evasive ability in the atmosphere, and good fast jumps in space. Meredith cursed - she’d hoped they’d grab up the fancy and sleek-looking Pinto 1090, that thing expl
oded if you glared at it.
She took another shot, coughed, and wiped a few tears out of her eyes, then looked back down at them from her godview. Derek and Sigourney hid behind the Ehcsrop, while a patrol of necrolites passed. The lovebirds got into a short discussion. There were plenty of gestures, back towards the hangar entrance, and she was tempted to patch in to the audio, but honestly, the silence held its own kind of cathartic joy.
Unbelievably, she felt peckish, and so headed out for a quick trip to the bank of vending machines a few offices down. Junk food would be the crappy crescendo to this entire failed exercise.
She stretched her arms out wide, and her breastbone popped like a cracked knuckle. She followed this with a series of neck pops, and finished with her knuckles. One by one.
Then she got to work making Derek’s life a living hell.
“Derek’s been such a dick,” she muttered, and keyed in a series of codes. She followed this up with another burst of coding, specifically for the Space Opera Crossbreed. “This’ll teach them what it’s like to be constantly so close you can smell each other’s butt breath.”
And then she ramped the difficulty level to its max level, and removed the safeguards on haptic vibration and impact controls. For Derek, she removed his ability to control the response level. The system flashed out a warning: This may result in actual physical harm and is not recommended for most guests. Proceed? (Y/N)
“Oh, so much Y,” she said, and relished the ache in her finger from jamming it down on the button.
Then, she had one last little curveball to throw at these two idiots. Honestly, she couldn’t quite choose which of them she was more pissed off at right this moment, the voluptuous vixen for working against her, or Derek for being so cotton-headed he couldn’t see the steaming plate of opportunity she was serving him.
“Idiot could’ve been a house husband. He could’ve stopped working those crap jobs and sat in the admin levels all day and just worshipped me every day after work.” The admin levels, so far from civilization, had full-time staff for childcare, healthcare, and shuttle services for children above the preschool level. Derek could’ve literally run around through the park at any given opportunity, as a game tester. She could’ve made that happen. But no.
The computer flashed again, Prestige Story Conventions require Downtime and Ramp Up phases be followed before this action is taken. This action will break with typical Access Level climbing. Proceed? (Y/N)
“Definitely Y,” she muttered, stabbed the command, and let loose with even more cursing as her fingernail split down the center.
***
“I still don’t think we should’ve left her behind,” Derek said. He cast his gaze back to where Herplederp was sulking in one of the larger cabin chairs, where Sigourney had just finished tying him up. He’d turned a sort of gray mixed with midnight blue. For someone who’d just been rescued, then located and fended off, he certainly didn’t appear to have even a touch of gratitude.
“Unfortunately, time is not on our side. Neither is this twit.”
“What do you think we should do about that one?” Derek asked, motioning toward the struggling alien, the same alien who could bulk up and rage out apparently.
Sigourney gave him half a smile. “Impress me.”
“Huh?” Here he was again, letting his mouth get on ahead of his brain. This was a test, to see if he could handle a job all by his lonesome. Which was actually pretty awesome, honestly. He’d been lamprey stuck on a woman basically every moment of his life, in high school and afterwards, with short and confused wandering points in between.
“You can do this, honey. I believe you’ve got it in you. Dig deep if you have to.” She brushed past him, with that unbelieva-booty, and settled in at the controls. There was space for her to give him a miss, but she’d… intentionally touched him. With her butt.
Come to think of it, he and his current girlfriend were technically still together. She’d only stormed out on him and refused to answer any messages, but they hadn’t officially broken up. And this was another one he’d done before: moved in on another girl while losing the current one. It wasn’t a tactic he did intentionally. He didn’t search out booty calls while he was with somebody, but when things got bad, and the ship had hit the iceberg, the band was still playing on deck even as she sank, was generally when Derek found himself a new girl. For better or worse, usually worse.
Back on mission, Hammings.
Derek considered what to do with the kid. He stared down at the not-red, not-enormous alien child currently tied up and sulking. He could do this. If Mare wasn’t going to come back, he could impress this gift from the love gods. Maybe he had a shot with her.
Maybe she’d end up ruining his life before dumping him, just like all the others. He peered back at her, wondering if it’d be facepalm, setback or disappointment. Then again, maybe he’d get lucky. You never failed if you never tried, but by that same token, you could never succeed either. He took a deep breath and puffed out his plumage.
“Hey, you, with the face!”
The only bit of Horglethorn that moved was the downcast gaze, which flipped up and settled on him. That look carried a whole lot of bitterness with it.
“You’re going to tell me what the heck that was all about, and you’re going to do it right now.”
In the periphery, the game rolled his Command, which gave him a 6. He’d take it.
The kid’s foot flashed up and caught him right in the gonads. The pain wasn’t immediate; he had a few moments of knowing it would flood over him and threaten to make him puke. His HUD informed him he’d taken a Level 1 Harm, though it felt like the end of his life as a man capable of birthing children.
He took a knee and gritted his teeth to keep from calling out. His haptic pain settings were off for some reason.
Would you like to resist by spending Stress? The game asked him.
He groaned out a quiet affirmative, and the game rolled his Fortitude. Thankfully, the pain abated. This time when the kid’s foot lashed out again, he caught it easily and got back to his feet.
“Tell… me…” he growled.
“You wouldn’t understand the power of the Necrolords,” the kid explained.
“Help me out then.”
The thing flashed with dark purple splotches as he sneered at Derek, but the glowing bindings held firm. “The Necrolord will be the ultimate power in the galaxy, just you wait. He’s unstoppable. I saw him tear apart an entire ship with his bare hands.” This Gary character only had cybernetic hands, Derek thought. Nothing bare about them. “You are either with him, and fall under his protection, or you are so much gravel to be ground under his bootheel. You are a gnat buzzing about his head, destined to be squashed.”
“Hear that?” he called to Sigourney. “We’re nothing but lint to be plucked from his great evil belly button. We’re little more than cotton candy to be slurped up by his necro-ness, to get stuck between the mighty teeth of destruction.”
“You laugh now–”
Derek got down in its sullen bluish face. “I brought an entire Necropolis down on your holy necro-dude. He’s leagues above you, kid. You really think he’s going to remember you if he gets what he wants? I know people like him; I’ve dated dozens just like him. I mean, they were women, except for that one time at the bar on my twenty-third birthday when the guys got me real drunk. Turns out I had been dating a really effeminate man for about two weeks, and literally every single one of them with the exception of that one guy walked all over me. All of them were just like this Gary fella you think is so holy. And you know what? Every single one of them was a selfish, cruel monster only looking to use me. Only in this instance, you’re me.”
Oh, jeez. Putting himself into this kid’s position made him feel pretty dang low. He stared around at nothing while Sigourney finished cycling all of the onboard systems and getting the craft ready for take off. Was he really that pathetic, that he kept on doing this to himself?
Yeesh, the answer appeared to be yes.
Man, now he kind of wished he hadn’t dumped that guy Kelly when he finally found out he was a dude. In Derek’s defense, Kelly had been paid really well to play at dating him, which wasn’t cool. If his name really was Kelly...
Anyway.
He jabbed a finger at Quimplequorp, who was staring at him with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “You and I aren’t done, not by a long shot.”
A clock sprang into view, filling with four segments. It read Gary Emerges From the Rubble. Another clock linked to that, also with four segments, appeared: Gary reaches his ship.
“Siggie?” he called.
“Yeah, I see it too. Get that keister up here.”
***
Meredith watched the game play out following another sippy-sip of the Rainbow Red. It felt good to do something bad. Now, in the seclusion of the office, she put on the audio and played with a few different surveillance angles. Given that it was an interactive gaming experience, they naturally had cameras everywhere. She could get accurate temperature reads from the butt-flap of his skin tight pants if she so desired, though she definitely had no more desire to get anything from Derek save for the satisfaction of watching him suffer.
He did take a kick directly to the pleasure center, which was like tossing a bandaid on her broken heart, but it was the first of many. If all went well, and she was sure it would, she’d be up to her eyeballs in dick kicks and called shots to the crotch.
Clocks and dice rolls cascaded by on the readout to her right, and she brought up Derek’s character sheet.
From here she could give him all sorts of XP and credits and Stress relief if she wanted, but overloading him with goodies wouldn’t do much. She’d need a higher override to mess with his stats like they did to Dungeonworlders. Although, she could (and would) light him up with clocks, so much so that it completely filled up his HUD to a super distracting degree. Right now was technically Downtime phase, so she couldn’t do a whole lot, but siccing Gary on them was one of those things.
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