Mace awoke with a soft light flashing in his eyes. Blinking crusty eyelids open he focused on the annoying light and froze. Reaching forward he rubbed his eyes dislodging debris and salt. However, the strange Neon Pink semi transparent box hovering a foot or so in front of his face did not vanish.
Instead, as he focused on the box sullen red words began to appear as if slowly being scribed upon the box in an elegant and fanciful hand.
“This one is glad you have recovered Master. This one has expended much of this ones remain mana to restore your body and inscribe the proper Master Glyph upon you. This one will start the Dungeon Master Interface and then shut down into hibernation mode while this one draws in more mystical power. This one is excited to work with you, Master.”
“Huh?” mace groaned. A second later the box vanished along side a dull Aquamarine glow surrounding him. Mace only had a moment to realize the area he was in was pitch black. Because he was suddenly falling. With a clatter, clang, and woof of air being forcefully expelled from his lungs Mace hit the ground.
“Ugh, I’ll need to put a sign-up warning of the first step.”
Slowly Mace rose and looked around. Far above him he saw light coming in through the hole he must have fallen through. The holes dim light barely illuminated the ground directly under the hole and didn’t touch the rest of the dusty area he found himself in.
Looking around his eyes were drawn to two other points of light. The first was a pea sized pink gemstone. Its pink glow strobed softly. The next light made Mace curse.
His phone sat a few feet from him, its screen was broken with a nice starburst of fine cracks racing across it.
Standing up slowly Mace stepped over to the fallen phone, “Damn it! Sara is going to kill me. She barley wanted to buy me this phone and it was released 5 years ago.”
Tapping the screen mace in-haled sharply. The time showed it was 8:45am The day after he arrived on-site. It also showed a number of missed calls from Mary.
“Oh No…No… No… No…”
Urgently mace tried to call Mary back, but his phone beeped, and no signal flashed across the screen.
“shit!!!” Turning Mace moved towards the hole, stepping over the glowing little gemstone in the process. Completely distracted, Mace barely paused his frantic tapping on the broken screen long enough to pocket the little stone.
He missed it as his finger touched the stone and its rhythmic flashing changed beat to match his own heartbeat.
It took him about 30 minutes to climb the 100 feet out of the hole and then to reach the ground floor where his phone could get enough signal to make a call.
“Hi, Mary. Ugh… Yeah sorry there was. Yes, ma’am I understand that I didn’t call. There was… No Ma’am I did not finish the remodel… Yes, Ma’am I know that you only gave me the one job… Yes, ma’am I know you will have to pay someone to do it now. Yes, ma’am I am sorry. Yes, Ma’am I understand you will be forced to pay them from my allowance… But Mary that will take my allowance for half a year! Yes, ma’am I understand that you do not have to give me an allowance at all. Yes, ma’am I’ll fly home and be there to fix you dinner. Yes ma’am.”
Mace hung up the phone, anger, despair, and frustration warring for dominance on his dust covered face.
Turning mace began to walk towards his old 1996 Ford Pick-up. Its once white paint job was peeling and clearly showed where the passenger door and front panel was replaced by a red one when the truck was wrecked by its previous owner. The wreck and its much lower value the only reason Mary was willing to pay for the truck for him. Even though she spent twice that amount on new tires… For her third car.
Halfway to the truck, Mace stopped jaw falling open. Driving up into the apartment parking lot was a series of trucks. The trucks were sporting the icons of one of the biggest construction contractors in the area. The part that was really stumping Mace was the contractor’s main yard was 6 hours away. That meant Mary had to have arranged them to show up yesterday before she even confirmed Mace’s progress. Slamming his truck door shut he turned the key and the instant the engine revved to life, he flipped it into gear and sped away.
“For the love of all that is holy! Why does life hate me so much! Did I kill babies in my past life to deserve this?”
4 Hours later Mace was driving down the freeway, about to enter his hometown when flashing lights in his rearview mirror caught his attention.
The white and blue lights along with the siren instantly informed Mace of the issue. Glancing down he saw he was going a couple miles an hour over the speed limit but literally only one or two.
Pulling to the side of the road he reached over and flipped open his glove box, to get his insurance.
“You inside the car freeze! Place your hands up where they can be seen above the dashboard!”
Mace froze still leaning over. The policewoman’s voice blasted over her car’s microphone, “hands up now!”
Quickly he raised his hand forgetting about the paperwork! As soon as his hands were up his trucks door flew open and he was yanked out of the vehicle to be slammed onto the pavement. He barely managed to catch himself from landing face first.
“Don’t you fucking move, dirtbag! Don’t you fucking move!”
The officers voice froze Mace an instant before a heavy boot slammed into his back shoving him firmly into the rocky ground…
Hours later Mace found himself in an orange jump suit cooling his heels in a concrete cell with 3 other men. Two of which were clearly drunk, at least if the smell of cheap liquor and snores of the passed out was any clue. The last sat across from him.
The man was short maybe 5’2, dark skinned with shoulder length dreads. His beard was well groomed, and his dark eyes never wavered from Mace.
“What you in for?” the guy asked Mace for the third time in the last hour.
Finally, tired of ignoring him, Mace met his eyes, “Not a fucking clue. I was driving home. Got pulled over and found myself being pulled out of my truck. Cuffs slammed on me and then I was thrown in here. No clue why. No explanation. Nothing.”
Unconsciously Mace reached up to touch his cheek, where it was torn up from light road rash that had occurred as the officer had slammed him onto the street.
The dark-skinned man grunted, “Fucking feminist pigs! I swear just because you have a dick, they think your going to resist or something. Its like the only crime you need for them to toss you in here is the crime of a Y chromosome.”
Mace didn’t respond. He had heard of things like this happening to other unaccompanied men. But he figured they always had some reason. Now though he could see what his dreaded cell mate was saying. Standing up Mace began to pace the small area.
The dark eyes of his cell mate never left him. On his third patrol, mace grunted slammed his hand into the trousers orange pockets and sat back down, in dissatisfaction.
No matter what he thought of nothing made sense. His truck was registered. Sara had made him apply the tags just two weeks earlier. He knew the insurance was up to date. The new card was placed in the glove box at the same time. He hadn’t been speeding. Was his headlight out or something… No that didn’t make sense.
Closing his hands into a tight fist, Mace’s fingers brushed against something hard. Confused he pulled out a small pink gemstone the size and cut of a small faceted pea.
“Huh?” mace articulated looking at the slightly glowing stone.
“Whatcha got ther, man? Is that some kind of designer drugs? Did you get that from your prison wallet? Is it clean? Can I have a hit?”
Mace ignored his cellmates rapid fire questions, clearly remembering placing this stone in the box along with his phone, wallet, and other possessions on in-take.
Rolling the glowing stone in his finger he was about to place it back in his pocket. Curious as it may be, it was just a tiny rock and no real use right now.
“Mystical Power(MP) has reached 3%...”
“Scan of Dungeon Master completed…”
“Mystical Power(MP) now at 2%”
“Initial Dungeon Master Sheet populating…”
“Dungeon Master Interface online... ...”
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“Mystical Power(MP_ below 1%...”
“Returning to Hibernation mode…”
A transparent neon pink box appeared in his vision again, reminding Mace of the first one that he had forgotten in the rush to contact his wife. The elegant flowing writing appeared slowly then vanished , just fading away seconds before the box disappeared.
“What the hell…”
Another pink box appeared in the center of the larger box the words “Dungeon Master Interface” was highlighted in bright crimson. Mace barely read the words before it vanished and new table appeared full of details.
Name: Mace Windu
Race: Human Gender: Male
Class: NONE Profession: NONE
Age: 42 Height: 6’3 Weight: 212lbs
Skin: Tanned. hair: Long Auburn. Eyes: Green.
Strength:9
Muscle: 4 Endurance: 3 Motor: 2
Dexterity:9
Agility: 2 Flexibility: 5 Reflex: 2
Constitution:13
Fortitude 5: Immunity: 6 Nervous: 2
Intelligence:12
Logic: 2 Memory: 6 Creativity: 4
Wisdom:10
Willpower 1: Perception: 3 Control: 6
Charisma:8
Appearance 2: Charm 2: Magnetism: 4
Spirit:13
Spiritualism: 6 Faith: 1 Luck: 6
Unassigned Status Points: 0
Skills -- Abilities -- Traits -- Feats
Inventory -- Property -- Dungeons -- Wealth
A smaller box appeared over the first. This time the writing was blocky and appeared whole. Like the status screens.
“Populating Skills>”
Text sped past the boxes window faster than Mace could read it. Then the box closed, to be replace by another one.
“Ambient Mystical Power is greatly below required threshold to assign Class.”
“Class selection is being delayed until Dungeon Master is in a higher Mystical Power environment.”
The window closed once more, only to be replaced by a third.
“Ambient Mystical Power is extremely low. Profession Options will be greatly reduced due to this. Would you like to see a list of available Professions?”
YES / NO
This time the small window stayed in place. After staring at it for a full minute mace decided he was having a neurotic breakdown, probably caused by stress. Or maybe he was suffering from a brain aneurism from eh fall?
Regardless if he was going to lose his marble, why not go with it? No point in fighting the inevitable after all…
Reaching out he tapped the yes button.
The box split into two windows. On the left was a list of what appeared to be Professions. On the right was detailed information about the highlighted Profession.
As Mace studied the list his face went from his neutral demeanor to a clear frown. Using the scroll bar on the left he began to move through the entirely too extensive list. After clicking on a couple more he realized that the Professions in Italics he did not qualify for, and that was a depressingly large number of them. With his self esteem sinking even lower Mace was about to sort by Professions he could accept when the sounds of footsteps followed by a voice brought him back to his situation.
“Hey, asshole! Its your lucky day. You’ve been bailed out!”
Standing at the bars was a dark-haired Hispanic policewoman. She might have been pretty if she was a century younger, didn’t have the wrinkle lines of a carton a day smoker, and shaved her thick mustash.
As he studied her the officer spoke again, “Asshole, you deaf as well as stupid or something? I said your free to go.” Putting actions to words she pulled keys from her belt, slammed them into the doors lock, twisted, and swung the door open.
As the cell door clanged open, one of the drunk stirred but didn’t awake. However, Mace’s cell mate stood up before catching the officer’s attention.
“nah, you be a good little boy and sit your ass right the fuck back down. You don’t want Bridgette here to have to make you.”
The man shot Mace a look as if to see if he would have help. Not seeing anything he wanted to, the man slowly sat back down.
“I ain’t looking for trouble or nutin. Might be that I could get a smoke?”
The officer glared at the dark-skinned man once more, shutting him up with just the look of complete indifference, almost like considering him further was beneath her entirely.
With his path clear Mace stood and exit the cell, small gem in pocket and strange windows forgotten once more.