Fist Full of Credits: A New Apocalyptic LitRPG Series (System Apocalypse - Relentless Book 1)

by Craig Hamilton

  When I reached the entrance to the Fort Pitt tunnels, I slowed to a crawl and turned on the bike’s headlight to peer into the gloom. Despite the vehicles piled up outside, I had no desire to barrel full speed into the darkened tunnels. Especially after my last underground adventure with the whistlepigs.

  My caution seemed validated when my headlight illuminated a stopped vehicle ahead, and I brought my bike to a halt. The vehicle was a haphazardly assembled motorcycle with mismatched tires and an attached sidecar that appeared welded together from car doors. The vehicle was turned half sideways, and the front end was crumpled slightly from where it had impacted the side wall of the tunnel.

  There was no sign of the driver or passenger though, and I brought my bike to a complete halt about thirty feet from the vehicle. Two faint red dots glowed dimly on my minimap in the darkness beyond the bike. Forewarned by Greater Observation, I dismounted and drew a beam pistol with my left hand.

  The walls glistened with wiry strands that shimmered in the glare of my headlight and also hung ominously from above the damaged vehicle in front of me. The hanging strands wavered slightly, wafting upon the slight breeze that flowed through the tunnel and sent a chill down my spine.

  I pulled a flare from my Inventory and lit it with a quick strike against the pavement at my feet. The red glow revealed more strands of the webbing above me, apparently torn by the passage of the crashed motorbike. I stepped forward and flung the flare in a toss that arched over the stopped bike ahead of me and into the darkness beyond.

  The infernal glow of the flare illuminated a pair of large, multi-legged figures that loomed just beyond the stopped motorbike. The limbs of the spidery creatures were large enough that they spread across an entire lane of the tunnel, and I tagged the closest of the spidery creatures with Greater Observation.

  Mottled Recluse (Level 31)

  HP: 930/930

  The spiders skittered away from the flare, and their chitinous armor flashed in the gloomy tunnel as they jumped up into the safety of their webs, high along the sides of the tunnel walls. Two tiny figures lay unmoving, left behind on the ground by the startled spiders, but I had no time to spare for the creatures’ previous victims.

  In fact, now that I saw the bodies, I was almost certain that the only reason the ambush spiders had shown on my map at all was due to the prone figures lying beneath them. If I had been a few minutes earlier, it might have been my corpse there on the ground instead.

  Up on the tunnel walls, the two recluse spiders scuttled toward me. I swapped out my equipped weapons with a quick activation of Right Tool for the Job, and my hybrid rifle whined as I squeezed the trigger while swinging the muzzle in line with the first recluse. The blast from the rifle punched into the side of the monster and sheared off the forwardmost two legs along one side before it punched into the carapace. The impact combined with the loss of its legs to knock the spider from the wall, and it tumbled to the pavement below.

  I cast Frostbolt at the second spider as I shifted my aim toward it. The chunk of ice jammed into the slight gap between the thorax and one of its front legs. Rime glistened around the wound, the cold radiating outward from the point of impact. The spider’s advance toward me slowed, and I fired my rifle again.

  The shot punched through one of the centermost of the spider’s six eyes and pithed the brain. The giant monster fell from the wall and landed on its back, where it lay with legs twitching in the air.

  Despite its wounds, the first recluse had lurched toward me and nearly crawled within range while I had dealt with its partner. The spider’s remaining front leg shot out with incredible speed, and my attempted dodge was far too slow. The spider’s claws ripped through my armored jumpsuit and into the meat along the outside of my thigh. I gritted my teeth against the sharp pain and jumped away.

  I staggered backward, and the recluse advanced to match. I swung the hybrid rifle level and squeezed the trigger, but the monster’s foreleg flashed out, smacking the weapon from my grip before it could discharge. Already off balance from my injured leg, the blow that disarmed me spun me to the ground.

  I activated Hinder on the recluse and crawled backward on my elbows, leaving behind a trail of blood that leaked from my wounded leg. I quickly saw that the recluse, as lopsided and slowed by Hinder as it was, still moved faster than me. I gave up on my attempt to put more distance between us.

  Instead, I pulled a pistol from my Inventory into each hand and opened fire as soon as the weapons materialized. I quickly realized that one of my attacks was failing to have much of an effect as the beams from the energy pistol failed to burn through the reflective carapace. I focused on my shots from the projectile pistol instead and poured fire into the joints of the legs on the already crippled side of the spider. When the last two legs on that side gave way, the body of the recluse sagged to the ground.

  Now with a little room to breathe, I cast Minor Healing on myself and a tingling sensation filled my wounded leg. In moments, the flesh knitted together over the worst of the damage to my thigh. The wounds still pained me, but I could at least use my leg now.

  With my mobility mostly restored, and the recluse missing half of its legs, I easily dodged the monster’s clumsy attacks and finished it off. Once the final monster was dead, I confirmed my kill on the first before I stored both of the giant spiders within Meat Locker and retrieved my hybrid rifle from the side of the road.

  Only once assured that the threats had been dealt with did I check on the prone figures by the oddly constructed bike. The tiny, green-skinned humanoids might have measured nearly up to my waist if they had been able to stand. The aliens had larger-than-average round heads with long noses and pointed ears that stuck almost straight out to the sides. Their wide mouths were filled with rows of sharp teeth.

  Both bodies lay along the wall at the edge of the tunnel as if they had been thrown from their vehicle by its collision with the wall. One’s head had been caved in by the impact with the side of the tunnel, and there was a matching spatter on the wall above the oddly built motorcycle. The other fragile-looking creature had limbs twisted at unnatural angles and a bloody gash in its torso from one of the recluse’s clawed limbs. The wound was a clean slash carved deeply into its chest that even cut through the bones of its ribs, and I was thankful that the monster had never caused similar damage to me. I knew the goblin-looking creatures were beyond help, between the sorry state of their bodies and that Greater Observation reported both creatures at zero hit points.

  I checked over the bodies, but I only found one interesting thing besides standard Adventurer gear. Both goblins were armed with what appeared to be crudely built human firearms designed for someone with child-sized hands. The roughly machined metal work felt blocky, with edges still sharp enough to dig into my hands as I held them experimentally.

  The only thing that made me question the observation that the weapons were human-designed were the words painted in white block letters along the barrel of both pistols.

  “What the hell is a ‘YEET CANNON’?” I muttered when I read the text.

  On a whim, I attempted to stow the weapons in my Inventory. Surprisingly, both pistols slid into my Right Tool for the Job inventory space, and the only explanation for that would be that the weapons had been System-made.

  With the weapons stashed, that left me with an odd bike and a pair of bodies in the middle of the road. Without a better plan, I tried to put the goblin corpses in Meat Locker and found myself pleasantly surprised when the bodies disappeared into the ability’s storage.

  Twisted from the impact with the tunnel wall, the front frame of the bike and the wheel no longer properly aligned. Fortunately, I found that I could also stow the vehicle within the extra System storage provided by Right Tool for the Job. It took up a significant amount of space, but I really didn’t have that much equipment yet. My own bike soon followed, stored in my Inventory rather than risk a continued drive through the potentially monster-infested tunnel.
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br />   While I looted, I used Minor Healing on myself every time the sixty-second cooldown timer expired. Only after I had healed myself to full health did I proceed forward, though my pace through the rest of the tunnel slowed significantly.

  I scooped up the still burning flare and chucked it as far down the tunnel as I could throw it. Even though no red dots appeared on my minimap, I waited to see if the flare revealed any movement along the walls or ceiling before I cautiously moved forward. Once I reached the flare, I repeated the process and continued through the length of the tunnel.

  I found a few dried-out husks of humanoids and various monsters discarded along the walls of the tunnel. Bones and skin were all that remained of the spiders’ previous victims. There wasn’t any loot to speak of, but no more creepy-crawlies appeared out of the gloom.

  When I finally made it to the end of the tunnel, I looked over the Fort Pitt Bridge and found that the sun hung high in the sky. Retrieving my bike from my Inventory, I straddled the comfortable seat and throttled up.

  The cars along this stretch of Interstate 376 were also smashed to the side of the road, and I had no problems crossing the bridge. I looked to my left as I crossed the Monongahela River and saw the four-cornered star of Fort Duquesne several stories below. The walls of the fort were completely repaired and showed no signs of the damage left behind after the jabberwock’s attack. They stood significantly taller now than when I had left the fort over a week ago.

  I saw no movement inside the structure and wondered if something had happened to the ranger and the others left behind there, though my curiosity lacked enough motivation to change my current plans now to check it out.

  I veered left onto the exit ramp for I-279 North, then across the Fort Duquesne Bridge over the Allegheny River.

  The green and black fireworks, first noticed from across the river a week ago, still continued to detonate overhead at regular intervals as I followed the signs for the North Shore exit and left the highway.

  After that ramp, I took the next exit onto Reedsdale Street, then turned left onto Casino Drive, immediately noticing the long line of people who stood waiting on the sidewalk. From the intersection, I could see that the queue started at the casino entrance, took up the entirety of Casino Drive, and wrapped around to disappear down the length of Reedsdale Street.

  The gate at the entrance to the casino was new, as was the ten-foot-high wall that separated the waiting people from the casino itself. The wall had been welded together from sheets of metal and disassembled car parts. Guard towers supported the wall at regular intervals, their viewports only a narrow horizontal slit in the crude armor that protected the structures. The ramshackle construction of both the wall and the towers appeared very similar to the layered armor plates bolted onto the bike I’d found in the tunnel.

  The entrance gate was a main vehicle entry completely closed off by a smaller personnel gate off to the right-hand side. The line of waiting people began at the smaller door, which swung open while I watched to let out a man who left empty-handed before the next person in line was granted access.

  Instead of turning toward the casino entrance down Casino Drive, I drove straight through the intersection and coasted down the street along the line of people who went down the block. My slow pass down the line gave me time to assess the people who waited.

  Almost all of them carried monster parts or other loot, as if they had no more room in their Inventory or they were saving that space for more valuable items. All of their clothing was stained, ragged, and torn. The System might have healed the wounds these people survived, but their ripped garb told the story that they were barely hanging on.

  Those with free hands clutched baseball bats or crude, homemade weapons. It looked as if no one had upgraded their gear since day one, which made no sense if there was a Shop right here.

  In fact, now that my attention was drawn to it, I saw few pieces of System gear throughout the crowd at all. That lack of proper equipment and the glares that many in line directed my way were obvious tells that something was very unusual here.

  Also troubling were the Levels and health quantities I found on the few individuals I carefully inspected with Greater Observation. Or more precisely, the lack thereof. They were so far below my level that none of them even flinched as my activated Class Skill pried apart their System status to view names, levels, and health. Most people held Basic crafter or non-combat Classes, and the few combat-focused Classers I saw were the only ones who had reached double-digit levels.

  I reached the end of the line and climbed off my bike, which I stored in my Inventory as I joined the queue. I caught a few grumbles of surprise from those who were watching me as my bike disappeared, but other than that, the people at the end of the line pointedly ignored me and continued to face forward.

  Everyone seemed clustered into little groups of people who knew each other or seemingly worked together. The parties kept a bit of space between themselves and those around them, with almost no intermingling or talking to others outside of their family or friend group. An aura of distrust filled the air, and each party kept glancing around furtively as if they expected to be robbed or assaulted at any moment. More of those glances seemed directed at me than anyone else, and I wondered if it was because I had better gear, if it was because I had shown up on a vehicle instead of on foot, or if it was because I was completely by myself.

  The line crawled forward slowly.

  As time passed, more people wandered into the line behind me with their arms full of monster parts. Bones, antlers, teeth, pelts, and carapace sections made up their bounty. I recognized parts from some of the creatures I had faced, but just as often, I had no idea what monster had died for the loot.

  My empty hands got a few side-eyed looks from the newcomers, but nothing near the bitter glares I had initially received. The new arrivals seemed a little less guarded than the people in the line ahead of me, and I soon overheard parts of their conversations that led me to believe they were hoping to trade their raw materials with the casino owners for better weapons and armor.

  That struck me as odd. The longer I was here, the more questions I had.

  Why were the people here trading with the casino owners instead of getting gear from the Shop?

  I turned to the group behind me in line to broach the question, but they pointedly turned away when I tried to introduce myself. I waited for a moment for a chance to insert myself into their conversation. A couple times the men and women on the far side of the group glanced at me but quickly looked away. The rest kept their backs to me, and the only time one of the group members spoke to me, it was to point out that the line had moved on ahead.

  Rebuffed, I turned away from the group and closed up the open space in the line. I had been more than willing to pass on the System knowledge that these people clearly lacked, but I wasn’t going to force myself into their group.

  In a way, I understood the trust issues these people might have. Forced into a fight for survival, with only immediate friends and family for support. My early encounters through the city with Zeke had proved that there were still those willing to threaten and kill. Best not to put faith in anyone who might stab you in the back.

  It took a half hour to get back to the corner at the intersection I had passed through earlier, then another forty-five minutes to reach the gate. As I approached the gate, I saw a second line on the far side of the street. That line wrapped around that block in the opposite direction and led into a city parking lot with an entrance across from the casino gate. People in that line manually pushed along battered cars or other non-working vehicles of one sort or another.

  Through the trees that lined the lot, I saw that the line of cars led up to a huge truck sitting in the middle of the cleared parking space. That massive vehicle may have started life as a PennDOT snowplow, but now, after all the modifications the truck had received, it more closely resembled something out of a post-apocalyptic movie where drivers fought over
gasoline, bullets, and women. The plow blade lowered in front of the truck was reinforced and had heavily patched over scrapes and paint smears.

  From the appearance of the plow, it looked as though I’d found the group responsible for clearing the local highways.

  The hydraulic lift bed that the plow truck would have used to dump road salt had been replaced with a robust crane arm that reached out over one side from behind the cab, and the bed behind the crane had been extended by several drive train units with paired wheels. The extended bed held an open bay contraption that looked like a car-crushing grinder often found in junkyards.

  As I watched, a group pushed a car up next to the bed of the truck, and a person got out from behind the wheel before waving up at the crane. The claw at the end of the crane extension grabbed the car and lifted it over the bay of the crusher. Then the crane dropped the vehicle into the crusher’s gear-like wheels, which ripped the car apart in seconds. At the rear of the crusher unit, tiny green-skinned workers swarmed as they sorted the resulting components into large bins. From what I could tell, those disassembled vehicle components were repurposed into things like metal plates that armored the walls around the casino or the motorcycles that were parked next to the giant wrecker. Motorcycles that looked like the one stored in my Inventory.

  The owners of this operation and the Shop inside were more goblins like the bodies I’d found on the highway, I realized as I reached the gate that led into the casino.

  A heavily armed goblin stood in the open doorway. I scanned the creature lightly with Greater Observation, carefully pulling only basic information from the System in order to see what I was dealing with.

  Gribbari Bruiser (Level 31)

  HP: 290/290

  The System name for this race of goblins was Gribbari, just like how the gnomes from the starport were actually a race called Pharyleri and the bogeymen from the school were Krym’parke.