What am I doing? thought Mike. He’d hardly killed anything in his life. He didn’t even do bugs.
[G: You are doing it Mike. Do it.
“I didn’t even say that out loud… so what, you can read my thoughts now too? That’s just fucking amazing. I’m so fucked.” he said, his shoulders slumping. He took a deep breath and looked back up at the rain, letting it fall on his face. He was soaked now. He was freezing cold. He felt numb. He actually felt scared. The kitten meowed.
[G: Do not be afraid of the kitten.
He wasn't afraid of the kitten. He was afraid what all this meant… for his… his… life. His future.
He laughed derisively at himself. Who was he kidding? He didn't have a future. Lexi was right. He was half-assed at everything.
[G: We all have a destiny Mike. And the destiny of this kitten is to...
A dirty silver trash can lid suddenly opened with a metallic squeal, revealing rows of razor sharp looking teeth, behind which flicked a long, pink, slobbering tongue.
The trash can flung itself towards the alley cat and devoured it whole with a sickening, wet crunch. Rivulets of rain-diluted cat blood trickled down the side of the can as the lid worked up and down on top of the trash can in a crunching, chewing motion.
“What the fu–” Mike’s eyes were wide with shock. He was frozen with abject horror.
[MIMIC | LEVEL 2 | TEETH 3 | TONGUE 1 | STEEL PLATE 1
[G: MIKE BE READY. THE MIMIC WILL REQUIRE A THRUSTING STABBING STRIKE. DO NOT SLASH. THIS CREATURE HAS METAL ARMOR. THRUST. STAB.
“Umm… how about NOPE! And… WHY IS THE FUCKING TRASH CAN EATING A KITTEN!?” he screamed.
The trash can screeched creepily against the pavement as it somehow pivoted to face him. It did it slowly, which was all the more terrifying. It's mouth was closed now, and it looked just like a trash can. But with rivulets of blood. A possessed trash can.
Mike's mind was collapsing into denial. He wanted to know what all this was about. Trash cans didn't eat kittens. He wasn't actually here. He was asleep upstairs and this was a nightmare. He couldn't really be holding a rusty sword, in the rain, in an alley, facing off against a creature that didn't exist…
He looked at the sword. He was gripping it hard around the hilt. The grip was wound around with cracked black leather.
Did Grandpa grip this sword like I am? Did he wrap the leather of this grip?
[G: SNAP OUT OF IT MIKE. OR YOU WILL DIE.
He snapped out of it just in time to see the mimic throw itself towards him, jaws first. He reacted instinctively, by running away, back down the alley. It was blind panic. It was terror. He had to get away from this nightmare!
Trash cans don’t eat things! he told himself, This is insane! I'm insane! I'm fucking insane!
He got to the door of his building. He dug into his pockets and fumbled with his keys. His hands were wet and slippery. He refused to look back.
Trash cans don’t eat things. Trash cans don’t eat things.
The trash can bit down hard onto his side and ribs as it smashed into him. He felt his own bones crack and splinter. He felt his body tear open and blood pour out. An intense, blinding agony. They both tumbled sideways into a heap of junk.
[M/HEALTH 23:100
The thing was on top of him. Bearing down on him. It was heavy. He was underneath it. He was being crushed by heavy steel. Heavy steel with hot breath, sickly wet slobber, a probing, muscular tongue, and razorlike teeth snapping and biting, tearing and shredding.
Eating. Eating my body…
[M/HEALTH 19:100
I’m going to die. Alone in an alley. Inside a trash can. With a rusty thruster in my death grip.
Thruster! he thought.
[G: YES MIKE. THRUST. STAB. IT IS ALL YOU HAVE LEFT. THRUST. STAB.
Mike smacked the sword against the metal hide of the creature. It slid off ineffectually.
[G: PATHETIC. I SAID THRUST. STAB. YOU HAVE ENOUGH ENERGY. DO IT.
Mike didn’t know if he had anything left in him. He was feeling woozy from the pain and blood loss.
[M/ENERGY 12:15
[G: STAB MIKE.
With a last ditch effort he thrust the sword upwards. It's rusty tip pierced, shallowly, into the steel.
It was enough. The creature let out a shriek of anger and pain. Hot red blood gushed from the wound.
[M/ENERGY 10:15
[G: YES. YES. AGAIN MIKE. STAB.
He stabbed again, this time harder. Another shriek. More blood. He had a feel for it now. He stabbed again. And again and again. He stabbed harder, plunging the sword in as deeply as he could, all the way up to the hilt.
[M/ENERGY 8:15
Now the creature was screaming. It was trying to get off him. It was trying to flee. It stumbled back, clacking and clattering amidst the alleyway debris.
Mike tried to ignore the fact he had bite marks all over himself, broken ribs, and actual pieces of his own flesh hanging off in ragged strips. His breath was coming out with a sucking wheeze from his side. His lung was punctured. He pushed himself to his feet anyway. Now he brought the sword up above his head, excruciatingly, and plunged it down into the top of the trash can lid as it struggled to get away. Blood fountained out the top.
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[M/ENERGY 4:15
He yelled and screamed at the top of his lungs as he stabbed again, and again and again. He must have sounded like a psychopath. He was past caring.
[G: THE MIMIC IS DEFEATED MIKE.
[G/STATE 2:10
[G: MIKE. STOP NOW.
[M/ENERGY 1:15
[G: MIKE!
Mike collapsed. He was spent. He looked at the mangled, bloody trash can in front of him. He looked at his hands. They were shaking and covered in blood. He looked at the sword. It was chipped at the end, and flakes of rust were crumbling off it. He made the mistake of looking down at himself. He had been mangled too. He was dying.
[M/HEALTH 6:100
He fell down onto his back on the hard pavement. The rain fell down towards him and all around him, small glowing drops backlit by streetlights. Beautiful raindrops. He never stopped to think much about how beautiful things were. Maybe he would die now. His breath sucked and wheezed.
[M/+1FIGHT
[M/+1POWER
[M/LEVEL UP. MIKE IS NOW LEVEL 1.
[G/+1FORCE
[GOBLIN | LEVEL 0 | STATE 2:10
[SOULBOUND SWORD | RUSTY THRUSTER
[FORCE 1:1 | GRADE 0:1
[SLOT | SLOT | SLOT | SLOT | SLOT
[MIKE | LEVEL 1 | HEALTH 6:120 | ENERGY 1:20
[SOULBOUND SWORD WIELDER | FIRST INHERITOR
[READ 1:5 | FIGHT 1:5 | POWER 2:5 | SPEED 2:5
[SLOT | SLOT | SLOT | SLOT | SLOT
[INVENTORY[-]
“What do I do… Goblin? Is this how it ends for me?”
[G: You should take a health pill.
“What… how…” he was getting weaker by the second.
[G: You have health pills in your inventory. You should take one.
“My invent…”
[G: I’ll do it.
[INVENTORY[-]
[HEALTH PILL MINOR 3
[HEALTH PILL MAJOR 1
[HEALTH PILL EPIC 1
[LETTER FROM GRANDMA 1
[OLD BEER COASTER 1
[G: There. Just think 'HEALTH PILL MAJOR’.
Mike thought about major health pills as he drifted off to sleep.
----------------------------------------
Mike woke to the sound of screaming.
The rain had stopped. The sun was up. He was lying in an alley, in a pile of trash. He was drenched in blood. His clothes were torn open. His body, however, no longer was.
There was a lady standing over him. It was Mrs Gill, his landlady.
She saw him open his eyes and screamed louder.
He was alive at least. He gingerly patted himself where he knew he'd been bitten. The skin felt tender and fragile, but it was there. Attached to him. The blood all over him was old, not fresh. His wounds were closed over. He had to do something. Mrs Gill would probably call an ambulance, or worse, the cops.
He stood up unsteadily. He was still gripping the sword. He quickly hid it behind his back.
“Mrs Gill!” he said to her in his healthiest, friendliest voice. He winced and nearly collapsed again. Health pills might have kept him alive, and physically fixed his wounds, but the pain and ache was substantial. He tried again, gritting his teeth this time.
“Mrs Gill, it's me, Mike! From the fifth floor! I'm okay, really!” he coughed and tasted blood in his mouth, “Sorry, I… uh… I just came back from… a… a… hunting trip. Yes, I hunted. Some deer. And I butchered it… and I… I got a bit on me.” He gestured to his disturbingly mutilated, bloody clothes.
“Then, um… I locked my keys in my apartment… and… so… then… I fell asleep here. Accidentally.”
She had stopped screaming. That was a good start. She was letting out small scared whimpers and clutching her handbag to her chest.
“I'm okay, really! I'll just head upstairs and get cleaned up.”
She whimpered again. “I… I th-thought y-you forgot your k-keys…” she stuttered in a small, high pitched, trembly voice.
Mike reached into his pocket and pulled them out. “Huh, would you look at that! Must have had my spare set all along. Thanks Mrs Gill, don't know what I'd have done without you!”
He limped to the door.
“M-mike?” she trembled again
He winced, took a deep breath, and turned to face her again, smiling, thinly, “Yes, Mrs Gill?”
“Y-your r-rent is… d-due-over. Over-d-due.”
“Oh yeah, sorry Mrs Gill, I'll get that fixed right up. Thanks for the reminder”
“Y-you're w-welcome…”
Mike staggered through the lobby and up the stairs, one painful step at a time.
Once in his apartment, he threw the sword on the floor and headed straight for the shower. He watched the blood swirl around in the shower floor before running away down the drain. His own blood. Mixed with monster blood.
Had any of that really happened?
[G: Yes Mike. This is for real.
Mike ignored that. He got out of the shower and examined himself in the mirror. He looked haggard. He looked tired. He hurt. He had purple bruises all over his body.
It was suddenly for real.
But so was work. And he was late.
He jammed his torn and bloody clothes into the trash, got dressed, grabbed his phone, and staggered out the door.
[G: No Mike. We must progress together. Do not leave me here alone.
He paused in the hall.
“I can't take a sword to work… Goblin.” He was struggling with the name. It felt like naming the thing acknowledged its existence.
[G: You are in denial, Mike. What is your menial work when there are real monsters for us to slay together, and the fate of this world to be contested?
“I've still got a life, you know! I've got coworkers relying on me. I need income to pay rent and food. And data.” he answered.
[G: Then go. But you will learn what the world is like behind the curtain soon, and you will never return.
[G: Actually, please take me. I don't want to be alone again. And the world is unsafe for you now.
Mike sighed. He didn't like what the sword was implying. He walked back inside, stashed Goblin, mostly, in his backpack and limped downstairs as quickly as he could.
[G: Maybe we can grind in your lunch break.
“I feel like I'm going to regret bringing you today, Goblin.”
[G: Regret refines us.
Mike got on the next bus, still feeling like he'd been hit by a bus.
No, he thought, being hit by a bus would hurt less because it wouldn't include the additional psychological impact of having been mauled by a demented kitten-iverous trash can that shouldn't exist.
Or being possessed by a sword.
[G: It is good that you survived though. Your Grandma would be proud.
“Wait, what? My Grandma?” Mike exclaimed loudly.
The other commuters on the bus were studiously not looking at him with concern.
“What do you know about my Grandma?!”