by Arthur Stone
If they were lucky.
Their first encounter with the infecteds was about five hundred yards from the truck’s final resting place. Three runners ran out to meet them. They were weak opponents—when you faced them with weapons.
Cheater only had a revolver, stored in his inventory. All the rest of his weapons had been left behind, either in the fortress or in the truck. Bound items were great, but they could not return to you immediately. You had to wait for the System to place them in nearby caches. That could take some time.
Shooting was the last thing he wanted to do. It would take these three down, but it could also summon larger beasts in their stead. Clown was better prepared for the encounter. Cheater had to admit that his Nold shoulder turret was not the ideal weapon in any engagement he could foresee. He only had it, of course, because he had just seized whatever happened to be closest, in his panic and in the truck’s final moments above water.
Accurately and powerfully, Clown punched the leading runner in the head. Cheater unceremoniously knocked the second one off her feet. He wielded the Nold’s shoulder turret like a 60-pound club, holding it by the barrel.
His ability to do so surprised him, as did his idiotic choice. He must have really been shell shocked to seize this alien paperweight when the truck had been filled with swords and axes and other handy weapons of all kinds. All of which were an order of magnitude lighter. Yes, this turret was a deadly weapon, but in his hands, it only worked when used for blunt trauma. Only a player with unnaturally elevated Strength could fence with a piece of minor artillery, of course.
The ghoul met the turret and flew ten feet back. The next blow finished her off. Lagging behind, the final ghoul was easy to kill as they could come at it from both sides. They continued on their way, but now took advantage of cover, rather than rushing headlong down the road. Unarmed players wanted nothing less than to avoid serious infecteds. Only their abilities could save them, were an honest fight to occur.
“Do you have a map?” Clown asked through heavy, panting breaths.
They had just reached a thin forest which provided enough cover from passing beings, so they could relax a bit.
Cheater nodded. “Yes.”
“Any villages or farms nearby? We have to find something. An ax, at least.”
“This is a stable, Clown. Nothing has come in for ages. We have to get out of this cluster as soon as possible. And as far as possible.”
“I’m starting to think it’s not the radiation that’s concerning you. What has you on edge? It’s not just that I’m curious. I might have some useful contribution to make if I know the situation.”
“We have to get away from everyone in this region. We have no friends here anymore. We’ll never have friends here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sure you understand that the Devils will be hunting us now. Well, I also told you about Watershed. Perhaps he is a prophet, but he cannot know everything. He sees only probabilities, and only some of them. Well, he saw that I had good chances of destroying the Devils.”
“That was a damn good prophecy, I’d say,” Clown chuckled.
“Yes. But there were many things that the cunning bastard did not mention. He didn’t say anything about the atomic weapons. But they were no secret. The only reason I knew nothing of them was that I’m not a local. So why didn’t he mention them? They’re significant, as we’ve already established. I think Watershed wanted those weapons for himself. You can imagine why.”
“An NPC with an atom bomb? I’m no racist, but that sounds like an undesirable state of affairs,” Clown grimaced.
“Now the bombs are gone,” Cheater joined the grimace. “I’m sure Watershed won’t like that. He may become very angry. At us, specifically. I fear him far more than I fear the Devils.”
“Why? What’s so scary about him?” Clown asked.
“He considers everything. He ruminates. He arranged each piece of this plan, ensuring that at the end, the Devils would be gone, and he would inherit their arsenal. But the plan went awry. Watershed may very well be furious now, and looking for someone to blame. Someone to answer for the failure of his objective. We cannot let him capture us. Later, of course, once things cool off, we should leave the region. That was the plan, anyway. So we’ll clear out of this area fast, find March, and keep moving east.”
“With a smile in our step and our compasses calibrated to Kitty, of course,” Clown nodded, before promptly tripping on an exposed root and cursing loudly.
* * *
Either Cheater’s fears were exaggerated, or the NPCs’ organization simply did not have the capability to quickly deploy continuous chains of hunters and assassins. During their entire hasty escape, infecteds were the only foes they encountered. Namely, a dozen runners and one young raffler. They took several minor wounds in their struggle with the latter, but the bleeding stopped almost immediately. The regeneration cores continued to operate at full capacity, momentarily dealing with minor damage.
Larger infecteds did come close, and they had to sit still and out of sight as they passed, but pass they did. No humans or human-like enemies were seen. The pair avoided roads whenever possible.
There were challenges other than conflict. Cheater chose their direction intently. Only two sides of this stable had clear ways out into normal clusters. A third lined a black swamp, which they could never navigate without a guide with a special ability, and the fourth side bordered black clusters. They were dry, and not too deep. Cheater headed towards that final border. If they were being pursued, he hoped the black clusters would cover their tracks. Many search abilities did not work in black lands, or at least did not work well.
Three miles across the black crystal glass was, as it turned out, a serious tribulation for a pair of wounded, exhausted fugitives. It took them nearly two hours despite the level terrain. By the time they reached the border, the sky was pitch black, too. Thankfully, Cheater had not skimped on his map purchases, and so even the dark of a moonless night could not lead him astray.
When the silhouettes of the first buildings appeared, Clown pleaded, “Come on, let’s go inside. I have to eat. Now. I’m about ready to gnaw my own arm off!”
Players’ metabolism was pumped up beyond that of professional athletes. That, combined with their hypercharged regeneration, made their situation desperate. Biological healing cost a lot of energy. Unless they tossed some high-calorie items into their gullets soon, the regenerating bodies would begin devouring themselves. Dystrophic loss of tissue and muscle was a serious risk. Even death from exhaustion was a possibility. Cheater had walked that line before, not long ago, and he had no desire to repeat the journey.
Therefore, not taking any no’s for an answer, he approached the nearest house and used Flash a few times, trying to detect any dangerous organisms nearby. Only small rodents appeared. It was safe to proceed.
Note: Treasure Hunter ability triggered! A mid-level cache has been located nearby!
The System had avoided showing him any messages after the kiloton of text it had dumped on him after the battle in the Devils’ fortress. Cheater almost got used to it not being there every step of the way. In fact, when the red message popped out of nowhere, he forgot, for an instant, that he was not in the “real world.” He relaxed and smirked.
A cache. Only a mid-level one. It was, however, located right in the house he had selected to break into. He could loot it while he was looking for food.
At the threshold of the main entrance, he used Flash again, highlighting objects which stood out. He relayed what he found to Clown. “I see some canned food in the basement, and something that looks like a massive jar of sauerkraut. Just don’t open the fridge. The shelves are stocked with cereal, sugar, and tins of some kind. And there’s a bar in the biggest room, stocked with drinks.”
“Amazing!” Clown burst, heading straight for the cellar.
A few minutes later, they were camped in the large living room, indiscrimina
tely filling their stomachs with pickled vegetables and a few chunks of stew. Sadly, there was only one jar of the latter, hardly enough for a pair of starving players.
After satisfying his hunger for vegetables, Cheater stepped over to the bar.
“Hey, pour me something, would you?” Clown called. “Don’t forget to add a spore. Although—actually, forget the spore. I’m tired. I could use a drink to help me sleep.”
Cheater wasn’t there for the drinks. He fumbled with the wall, attempting to open the cache. Uncovering the compartment hidden behind the bar, he pulled out a sawn-off shotgun and a plastic bag holding a dozen rounds.
Clown nodded. “Shitty gun, of course, but it’ll do. I think our own caches will be set up come morning. I’ve got a machine gun bound. Good gun, and I know it well.”
Cheater crunched into a pickle. That moment, a massive flash lit the sky, shining through the windows to their left. Both of their heads jerked towards the light, and they stared in silence.
After a few seconds, the blast wave hit the windows. “That’s not the direction of the fortress,” Clown noted uncertainly. “The opposite direction, in fact. But it was a serious blast.”
Cheater nodded. “The powers that be are finding their places usurped. The Devils don’t have a fortress anymore. Nor do they have their atomic arsenal. Their strongest players just got kicked to respawn. All of them. So only the locals remained. Watershed and his friends knew that this would happen. It looks like they were ready. Right now they’re taking out the Devils wherever they can be found. You saw how weak their presence was in those towns.”
Clown nodded. “Just a few pups left in the garrison, I’d bet.”
“Of course. They didn’t need anything more. If anything serious cropped up, a quick call to the fortress would have reinforcements arriving in a flash. But now, the fortress is no more. It’ll be a few hours, at a minimum, when the most senior Devils start respawning. They’ll be scattered throughout the region, all over the fresh clusters. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if Watershed were watching all of the respawn locations, stationing digis there to wipe them out again and again. And not just Watershed. Players, too. You saw how much the Devils were hated. But they were afraid of the bombs. So, take out the bombs...”
“You’re right,” Clown grunted. “I hadn’t really thought that through. We have to get out of here before the violence finds us. Sure, they’re after the Devils, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe. When new people come to power, there’s always collateral damage. It’s always complicated. I’ve lost a couple of lives to situations like this. And I was entirely innocent of any and all blame. I didn’t even understand what was happening. Luck left me hanging. Dropped me right in the middle of an anarchist revolution. The old government was gone, and no new government had replaced it yet. Tough times.”
“Complicated indeed,” Cheater added. “We’ve got the NPCs, and the Devils, and the rivalries among various NPC factions—and even the System is involved. No one ever knows what the System is thinking. The more distance we put between ourselves and this region, the better.”
“The System?” Clown blinked. “What do you mean?”
“It was the System that directed me to the fortress. Do you really think I would have so brashly walked up to March otherwise? I’m not stupid. I knew it was a trap. The System was dragging me along the whole way. Sometimes it even gave me explicit clues, and when the time came, it added on a special System quest. To destroy the atomic arsenal. Everyone says that the System respects balance. But it cannot do everything, and it cannot intervene directly if the balance is lost somewhere, or so they say. As long as no rule has been broken. It can, however, incentivize players to do its work for it. So it found me. It doesn’t want some crazies getting their hands on a stockpile of atomic weapons. Or anyone, for that matter. So it pushed us to deal with those weapons. Like we were its instruments, and it was—”
A log spilled out in brighter red than Cheater had ever seen.
Note: You have completed these portions of your current quest: Survive, Learn Secret, Help. Congratulations!
You may choose a bonus.
Option 1: you earn one attempt to Ask Correct Question.
Option 2: you gain the Radical Party Rebind ability. This nullifies your squad’s region binding. Description: When you activate Radical Party Rebind, all members of your party located in the same region as you will be bound to the current region, with their region respawn limit reset to maximum. Cooldown: 500 days. Each +1 Willpower level reduces the cooldown of this ability by one day. (Your current Willpower level does not apply. In addition, any increase in Willpower which occurs during the cooldown period does not apply.)
Note: Based on your style of play, it is highly recommended that you select Option #2. You have 240 hours to make your decision. After 240 hours, your bonus will be chosen for you, at random.
Pay close attention as you play, and you will be rewarded.
Clown frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Cheater remembered a similar situation with Kitty, yet declined to go into details. Clown was a curious fellow. He would have to waste a lot of time explaining.
“Just lost in thought,” he equivocated.
“Apparently. You just froze, like a statue. So, what’s our plan to look for March?”
Cheater shrugged. “We should take it easy for a day or so. Get everything in order. Or even 2 or 3 days, so that he is sure to respawn. Then, like we did before, we’ll visit each of the three main parts of this region. I doubt they’ll be able to kidnap him again. The Devils have plenty of other things to occupy themselves with now. And I don’t even think they’d be up to it, nor have the time. You saw how involved that ambush was. As soon as we see March’s chat online, we’ll find him.”
“Is that the best plan you’ve got?” Clown pressed on.
Cheater shrugged. “It works, doesn’t it? We’ve done it before.”
“You’re still a noob, Cheater. Look, let me explain how to look for a respawning player. First, we get to a stable. How close is the nearest one?”
“Seven miles, as the crow flies.”
“So about three hours, on foot,” Clown estimated. “As long as we don’t run into Devils, or Watershed’s NPCs, or some other hostile party along the way. Hell, I bet most people in the region wouldn’t hesitate to shoot us. Plenty of players with itchy trigger fingers out there. As soon as anarchy hits, they come out of the woodwork.”
“We’ll take that as it comes—there’s something else to worry about, first,” Cheater said as he cautiously watched the hallway.
“What?” Clown perked up and warily gazed the same way.
“That’s right. Not something, actually. Someone. Have you noticed the total lack of weak infecteds in this town?”
“Don’t tell me you see some massive beast that scared them all off. That’s not the kind of shit we need right now.”
“You guessed it. It’s close. And it knows that we’re here.”
“Shit!”
“Exactly. Get ready. It’s about to charge us.”
“To hell with this piece of shit! All I have is this shoulder gun!”
“Here, take this revolver.”
“A revolver? Against an elite?”
“I’ve got the shotgun,” Cheater followed, calmly as he could. “Thanks to that cache.”
“How strong is this infected?” Clown pushed.
“I don’t know, exactly. My Flash isn’t good with details like that. It looks like a manmincer, maybe a little weaker.”
“A manmincer.” Clown winced. “And we’re going to fight it with an imbalanced club and a couple of BB guns.”
“Got any other ideas?” Cheater asked absentmindedly as he was loading the shotgun.
Damned truck. His sword had been inside. It could have punctured the skin of anything, even an elite. And that damned cache. Worthless. And this damned Continent!
He paused. Only three of the shotgun roun
ds were slugs. And they looked to be in bad shape.
Clown was right. He might as well just play Hemingway, with weapons like these.
The front door shuddered. Soon, it would shatter, and the grumbling master of this village would rush in to greet his new guests.
Chapter 3
Life Nine. Surprise Memories
“How much do you think a manmincer’s head weighs?” Cheater asked thoughtfully.
“I haven’t unlocked the Scales skill yet, so I wouldn’t know,” Clown sneered. “How about... 150 pounds. I can barely drag it.”
“Why are you dragging it then?” Cheater reached the point.
Clown squinted at his prize. “I can’t just throw it out. Each time I look at it, I remember that night time fight. What a sight! Rare to see something like that. Your shot, from the floor into the air above you, both barrels at once. That really was something. Everything perfectly calculated to deliver a blow right under the sporesac ridge. Plus the slide on the floor between his legs... I never took you for a gymnast. That, my friend, was pure art. Once again, I had a front row seat, and no popcorn. Pickles don’t count.”
