I was met, at the next door, by a handsome young man in a blue suede suit, his raven-black hair slicked back, peering up at me from a pair of Nordic icy-steel blue-gray eyes.
Except… I knew this place. Next to the old bag with the coffee breath and garlic vomit, there were no male models nor any high-powered businessmen. Not in our crappy low-rent apartment complex.
“Hey, Kevin. Nice Schnozz. What can I do you for?” he asked.
“What…” I couldn’t even handle a full sentence. Because, if I was correct and this was actually apartment 108, I’d had beers with the guy who lived here. His name was… if I recalled correctly, Jack.
Yeah, Jack. Old Vietnam veteran. Was a Cav Scout like me. He’d gotten a unit citation for being out in the bush for two whole years straight. And just when they finally got pulled back to base, then pow. The Tet Offensive hit, and he lost his right leg all the way up to the knee.
Except, here, he wasn’t missing that leg. And he was a buff mid-20s. And he certainly didn’t walk around in high-class finery looking ready to embezzle millions of dollars from some retired peoples’ retirement funds.
“How . . .” I started again. He laughed.
“Isn’t this great?” he asked, waving his hands to indicated everything around them. “Imagine waking up old and tired, with a pair of shot lungs and that ghost pain still throbbing in a leg left overseas fifty years ago. Then imagine some computer thing telling you to go ahead and fix everything, it don’t mind none.”
“Jack?” I asked. It had to be him, the words all fit and the background checked out. Even if the appearance did not. I examined his shoulders, chest, legs, arms, my eyes trailing every bit of it. What incredible pain he must have gone through to get this way.
“Yep. Hurt like the dickens,” he said, then turned sideways. “Come on in. Let me get you something. You check out this Calamari fellow yet? He’s absolutely fantastic!”
I walked in a little and took a look around. Same future apartment, but this one had some cool new items lurking in the corners. Jack had obviously been playing with things and figuring it all out.
“The suit?” I asked.
“Calamari,” he affirmed. “So what’s the big hubbub?” he asked, making a point of looking me up and down. “Kevin, you look like you’ve been having a time of it. Need some help? What’s going on?”
I sighed. “As far as I can tell we got trapped in one of those nano-bot Augmented Reality parks. Was bound to happen, I guess. Wasn’t like there weren’t people protesting it or politicians trying to make it illegal. But here we are.”
Jack nodded. “Go on.”
“So I woke up, did my game stuff, named myself Dirk Stone —”
Jack chuckled and twirled his fingers to indicate I should keep going.
“And then I went out and found a bunch of freaks and monsters tearing up the place. We’re in trouble, Jack.”
He nodded. “What do you need me to do?”
“Go to the first floor. Make sure I’m not sending people to their deaths down there. If I am, come up and tell me. If I’m not, stay down there and keep them safe.”
He kept nodding. “Yessir. Got it. Go down and keep them safe. Glad to say I can do that now,” he stated, grinning down at his whole, youthful body. “Even got me a job from the system. Diplomat. I’ve got charm and looks to match.”
I smiled despite everything. “Good for you Jack. Listen, there’s a dragon and a fire elemental coming around to kill everyone, so it’s no time for a beer and chitchat. But once things are figured out and we are all somewhere safe, we’ll make a date.”
“Yessir. I’ll go check on the civvies, hey?” Jack got up and in moments he was gone. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and spun, seeing Calamari peeking out of his fridge.
He waved.
Out of sheer instinct, I waved back.
And then a scream drifted down the hall. I ran out of the apartment just in time to see a door burst open, flames and liquid metal spraying out in its wake.
I took another look at Mr. Jack, who stared back.
“Get out of here Jack! Go! Those people need you a hell of a lot more than I do right now!”
He turned and sprinted off. I sighed. He was the perfect guy to have in charge of them. I turned and headed down the hallway at a run. In front of me, the Tenants Saved counter ticked up from 10 to 11 out of 20.
I hadn’t gotten a good enough look at the dragon before. The thing that emerged from the apartment at the end of the hall was just as much cybernetics as flesh. Fully half its face was either metal or surrounded by raw scar tissue. Several claw marks still ran across its snout, and the eye set into the metal face plate was of course glowing crimson. I wasn’t sure how it fit into the apartment at all.
I met this thing’s two-foot-long head with my fist. It was barely out of the doorway and was only beginning to swing in my direction. A combat HP bar appeared over its head, ticked down to maybe 96% of its health.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Oh crud.”
The big old head turned fully in my direction and revealed the malevolent red eye, and so like any mostly stupid person would, I pulled back my fist and clocked that dragon in its big metal face.
Achievement Unlocked – Synergy!
The worlds of Cloudcraft Revolution are many and various. Different attacks and effects can have devasting reactions with various other items, Try them out. Experiment. Figure out the ultimate attacks.
With the spell still on, the lightning damage apparently didn’t just stop at 1-4 plus melee when cybernetics were the target. The dragon began convulsing and a quarter of its HP drained away. The red eye pulsed brightly, then blanked out, while a few tiny screws and fasteners popped out.
I dodged aside before it could retaliate, rolling under its huge head, and coming up against the foreleg: another piece of cybernetics.
I gave it another jab and watched in wonder as the arm buckled. The dragon went down hard on its chin, and I gave it a good roundhouse to the cyber leg.
I was grinning at the thought of delivering the next blow. Given the damage I was wreaking, it was going to be a show-ender.
Instead, the spell wore off in the middle of my next swing, and nothing happened. Chuck the cyber dragon still had a good quarter of his health remaining, and I had to survive the next five minutes before I could reactivate the ability.
I needed a weapon.
“Crap!” I bellowed. I leapt onto the best, using the ridges of its scales to begin climbing the dragon’s body. The idea was to get behind it, into the apartment, and maybe find something to bash it with. Or else to hide away until my ability recycled.
The dragon reared back, and I used a combination of its motion and one of its back spines to vault over it and slide to the floor, just next to the ruined wreckage of its bed.
Peering around the apartment, I came up with nothing. Same old semi-transparent tan field over the windows, same neon glow from the wall, same polished and gleaming black plastic doors, same futuristic super fridge, same clothes washer wand –
The wand. I made for it, hopping over the dragon’s tail. I came to the fridge and ripped it open . . .
And was greeted by everybody’s favorite pink cartoon mascot, Calamari. His eyes bugged out with joy and he began to do a jig.
“Good morning, DIRK STONE. Boy, you sure look SECONDS AWAY FROM DEATH. It also seems you’re in the wrong domicile! What a day you’re having, am I right?”
“Shut up. I need a weapon.”
I bared my palm chip to his anime squid face and hoped against hope that this fridge vendor might have access to something, anything, despite being a refrigerator and offering up food for cash.
“Gimme the most expensive weapon I can afford, right now, no questions, confirm sale.”
I spared a look behind me, just in time to see Chuck the dragon roar and bash a spined elbow into the doorway. The door was flung aside, and it bounced off his scaly hide. But there wasn’t enough space to turn all the way around in easily, and Chuck struggled and squeezed this way and that to get to me.
A slap of his tail snapped several sleek metal plates off, revealing bare concrete beneath. Some of that concrete puffed out of existence from the power of the slash.
“You’ve purchased the SBX-390 for twelve hundred credits. It comes with a laser targeting system and optional underbarrel homing rocket–”
“No money for the good stuff. I’ll figure it out later,” I told him, and took the gun. It was a hefty, shiny, and badass piece full of unnecessary angles and an under-barrel grip that begged to be fired from the waist.
Like a stormtrooper.
SBX-390 hip-waist plasma blaster. Semi-automatic chambering allows for a shot every three seconds. 1200 credits.
DMG 1 – 8 (short/medium)
Spd Medium
Weapon has a 5% chance of jamming every shot. Jams require a successful technical roll to unfoul. Weapon does twice as much damage against robotic units.
‘Need to shoot and look cool doing it? This is the blaster for you. Just don’t expect to beat anything with it.’
I gave that weapon notification an angry side-eye. I’d just bought a defective gun.
It was alright, though. I was Kevin ‘Dirk Stone’ Daley and I’d just live up to my name. It wasn’t like I was a stranger to fouled up weapons. And hip-shooting wasn’t ideal. But it wasn’t something I was unexperienced with either.
I graveled up my voice and let him have it.
“Hey, Chuck,” I growled, and I racked the underbarrel grip. The weapon spun up, then an electronically autotuned shotgun sound rang out menacingly in the quiet apartment, echoing hard. The stuffty gun made a rising whining noise that rose in a pitch that sounded just as dangerous as I did.
“You move again and I will plug your ass with so much metal they’ll be using it for blacksmithing.”
You’ve succeeded at an Intimidate check! It was boosted by a Serendipity check! You gain 500 xp and gain a level.
Welcome to Level Three, Bub.
You’ve gained a card!
This was followed by +1 Intimidate and a +1 Serendipity. I’d have to wait a few minutes and survive to check on how many levels of Intimidate and Serendipity I now possessed. And what Serendipity meant exactly. I’d also have to wait on the free common card I’d apparently gained.
The dragon’s features contorted with actual fear. For just a moment it stared with its real eye back into the apartment, to where I had the gun pointed directly at where its leg and tail came together.
The dragon snorted, shaking his muzzle. A moment later, Chuck had fled down the hallway. The game confirmed what I hoped.
Congratulations! You’ve deterred another of The Boss’s goons!
Optional quest: instead of rescuing the residents, you may choose to face down the last of The Boss’s enforcers, Beyonce Blazes.
Well, damn.
Eric Joel took that moment to show up at the ruined apartment, Patches in tow.
“Did I just see what I thought I just saw?” he asked.
I met his eyes, seeing the deep-well of amazement hidden within. His face was all scrunched up, and his head was slightly cocked to the side. I cocked my head back at him, in tandem with Patches.
“Depends. Did you see me scare the bejeesus out of that dragon? Because that’s what I saw, and I really don’t know if that makes any sense.”
Eric came up and slapped a hand on my shoulder.
“Absolutely. Never thought I’d see the day that someone would scare off Chuck with an SBX-390,” he said. Then he frowned, his face drooping as much as a feline’s could.
“You shoulda killed him though. He’s not gonna take this lightly. He’ll be hunting you.”
I shrugged. “I have no clue what’s going on. Not really. So that means about as much as I used to make in tips.”
Eric stared at me, his whiskers twitching, his eyes blank. Then he continued almost as if I hadn’t answered at all.
“Ha. Yeah. Listen, I was thinking. Maybe we chase off Beyonce, keep these people safe right here. Maybe I don’t work for the boss anymore. He’s a pasty slimy slug with no loyalty to no one, and I like how you operate. Maybe we can make something here for ourselves and get our own piece of the pie.”
That sounded like a take-down-the-boss storyline if I’d ever heard one. I’d have to think it over. Why was I getting myself so involved in the game apocalypse when I could just save a few more people, get a free apartment, and keep my head low?
I wasn’t sure.
But maybe, working alongside Eric Joel and Patches, taking down Beyonce, I’d figure it all out.