After turning the next block, Logan stopped, ducking against a large maple tree and letting the leaves and green branches provide cover while he stared. His immediate reaction to seeing over a hundred rats scurrying down the street was deep-seated disgust, and a shudder of revulsion made his stomach slosh.
They were the size of… well, rats. They looked just like the buggers he’d see scurrying underneath his barbeque in the backyard. Norway rats, with long rat tails and grey furry bodies the size of small cats. Other than the mass of them, the sheer number, they looked normal.
Logan scanned them with [Idiot’s Inspect]:
[Norway Rat Level 3. This is a rat.]
[Highest Stat: Intelligence. Characteristics: Dominated by the need to feed. Hidden name: N/A.]
Huh.
Based on the description, his impression was correct. They looked like normal rats. And at level 3, he could walk down the street and into the swarm and kick them aside like beetles. And yet, something told him to be cautious.
Something had managed to make thousands of people disappear, and it was hardly these buggers. It didn’t make any sense.
Making a snap decision, he deployed [Mimicry Armour] to reform his whole armour suit, sculpting it to mold with the Ernie-pouch on his back. From his feet to his facemask, he made it seamless. Then, activating the mimicry effect, he became invisible so that his suit mirrored his surroundings. It wasn’t foolproof since it wouldn’t stop someone from sensing his aura, but it would help.
“What is it?” whispered Ernie from his pouch. “Is it the rats?”
“A whole swarm of them,” Logan answered Ernie mentally. “But they’re lower leveled. They can’t be what took Lara and the kids.”
And on top of that, Logan doubted they could talk, which meant he wouldn’t get any answers if he charged in there and started going to town. For a second, Logan envisioned removing his old baseball bat from his spatial collar and smashing rat after rat into mush. It sure would help exorcize his anger, but that would hardly help Lara.
And yet… the rats were going somewhere. Purposely. They weren’t swarming the street and digging through garbage. In fact, they streamed past the pungent smell of rotting refuse. The smell was so bad it made Logan wrinkle his nose underneath his facemask, and to a rat, it had to smell like nirvana. For them to march past in a production line, tails swinging behind them, eyes resolved, meant they were heading in one direction.
Something was controlling them.
Something was drawing them.
“I’m going to follow the rats,” said Logan.
Logan kept well back, at least fifty feet away, letting them scurry down the pavement. In the light of the day, it was bizarre to pass house after house, each one the same. The doors were wide open. And yet other than open doors, the windows were intact, no signs of someone breaking in or forcing themselves through the garage or the side doors. It was as if everyone on the street had opened their doors and just… left.
Creeping forward, he silently followed, doing his best to avoid stepping on anything that would crunch underneath his boots and give him away. On this street, it was mostly bare asphalt, missing blood and the gory remains of the other streets he’d passed on his way here.
The rats continued their journey, a hundred of them in an army line, never deviating. They had yet to notice Logan and seemed mindless in their need to continue their journey.
And finally, after yet another block, they came to a stop in front of a white house with a brown door. This was on the wealthier side of town, where homes were less homes and more luxury vacation retreats. Some with three stories and four garages, others with Spanish tile roofs. But most noticeable, the door of this house was shut. The houses next to it and across… all the doors were open.
But not this one.
A hundred rats sat down in a formation, their forepaws up in the air, their heads tilted up at the door, pale ears perked at attention.
And they sat there.
Staring.
***
“How much longer?” Ernie complained. “Ernie is cooking! Cooking in the pouch!”
The rats had continued staring at the door, mindless, not moving for what had to be hours. By this point, Logan’s tension had frizzled, his shoulders drooping. Doing his best to keep himself energized, he bounced on the balls of his feet and cracked his neck.
He grimaced as he looked away from the furry fuckers. Ugh. Rats. “You can come out if you think you can keep your mimicry skill deployed for hours. We can’t have you giving us away. Do you think you can do that?”
There was a noticeable silence from Ernie. Then a quiet, “Ernie rivals all,” in a defeated mutter.
Logan supressed a smile. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually. Of course you rival all. Not many could be turned into the undead and reclaim a lost skill. It’s impressive that you can keep the skill deployed for minutes.”
Ernie grumbled, but Logan knew he was secretly pleased.
But gradually, frustration was mounting. The rats were his best lead so far, but just how long were they going to stare at a door doing nothing?
Logan soon had his answer.
Down the road, someone was approaching.
He was tall, slender, and wearing a suit as if he’d just walked out of a business meeting. His black dress shoes shone in the sun, showing a hint of purple socks with pink rectangles just below the hemline of his dress pants. But other than the clothes, he came across as harried, with sweat beading down his forehead, his face a splotchy red. His blond hair was messy, as if he’d run a sweaty hand through his bangs.
Logan scanned him with [Idiot’s Inspect]:
[Peter Salibron: Level 65. A human being.]
[Highest Stat: Wisdom/Intelligence. Characteristics: An expert in persuasion. Hidden name: The Contractor.]
“All right, all right,” he said, panting. “I’m coming! You couldn’t have found one closer to the next group? The last one was across the city!”
The rats didn’t react, still facing the door with their faces tilted up, red eyes pinned to the house.
The man blew out a breath, pushing his bangs away from his eyes. “What do we have here?”
Looking at the house, Peter furrowed his brow and frowned. It was a minute before he blinked and then glanced at the rats with a scowl. “One! All of that rushing for one measly prospect!” He went to kick the nearest rat with his dress shoe, but it scurried away with a chittering noise.
“What! You’re going to complain? I’d like to see you try! Pied would love that! You know what he’ll do.”
The rat chittered again and then squeaked.
“Yeah, yeah,” the man said. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he straightened his back, his shoulders out as he stared at the door of the house.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“KID. KID. YEAH, YOU, KID.”
Logan held back a gasp. Peter had done something to his voice, blasting it both out loud and in Logan’s mind. All he could hear was a mass of sound that drowned out everything else.
“I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”
Logan hissed. It was like someone was using a bullhorn right in his ear.
Peter paced, scrubbing his hair as he stared at the house. Then he paused, a grin overtaking his face as he scurried up to the closed door.
“Yeah, I knew you were there!” he said in a normal voice. “I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t listen to the rumours! I’m here to save you, kid. Everyone else wants to kill you—the gangs for the XP, the monsters because they want to chow down on your bones. But not us, oh no. We want to feed you, put a warm meal in your belly, and keep feeding you. All you have to do is join us.”
Peter touched the door idly, scratching it with his fingernails.
A pause, as if he were listening to something that Logan couldn’t hear.
“No fighting! Oh no! We’re not that kind of outfit. Pied wants to save the city. Save you.”
Narrowing his eyes, Logan scanned the motionless rats, the house and the man. His perception was high enough that if someone were speaking behind the door, he was sure he could make it out. That meant the man was listening to something Logan couldn’t hear.
Deploying [Life Fabricator], he scanned everything around him, picking up the odd blots of life that represented the swarm of rats. They continued to ping oddly. Normally, he could scan an animal or a person and quickly identify it. But these rats kept flaring up as hundred separate spots of life, then concentrated into one, then went back to hundreds. It was as if the rats weren’t singular spots of life, but a hive, each one connected to the other.
As for the man, Logan was relieved that the skill scanned him like normal, but there was something… a thread of life, a line like he’d envisioned while using [Liche Siphon]. A lifeline that connected him to the swarm of rats, but also a line that went beyond that, far off in the distance.
That line was tempting; Logan’s senses wanted to follow it, but that wasn’t his purpose. Retreating, he looked at the house and then concentrated on what was beyond the door.
Another bright spot of life.
This one was missing those connecting threads.
A person.
So. Someone was in the house, standing behind the shut door. Logan was reminded of all the homes with their gaping, wide open doors, with no other signs of struggle. Is that what had happened to everyone else?
“What would you like, kid,” Peter crooned. “Do you have a sweet tooth; are you craving something savory? Greasy? Cheesy? I have it all. Come on, come on, I bet you’re sooo hungry. It can’t be easy on your own like that. What, did your parents die?”
Peter paused, tilting his head as if he were listening to something. But again, Logan heard nothing but the rustle of the trees in the wind. He was listening to something else.
“Oh, that sucks, kid. That sucks so much. But don’t worry, we have kids your age who went through the same thing. Pied loves helping people like that. Maybe even some of your friends, hmmm? Yes, I bet we have a lot of your friends, and let me tell you, boy, are they well fed. Come out, kid, come out.”
Crossing his arms, Peter frowned at the door and then scowled at the motionless rats. “Trust me,” he muttered. “You want to come out. You won’t like being forced. It’ll be better for you.”
There was a sound from behind the door. “How do you know what I’m thinking?” said a young, thready voice. A nervous voice.
Peter exploded with movement, throwing his hands in the air. “Kid, kid! It’s so good to hear your real voice! Hah hah hah! I knew you were a good kid! Come out and I can give you a juicy meal.”
Silence.
Then, “You won’t hurt me?”
“Nah. I’m not into kid killing. I’m into kid saving.”
Logan held his breath and debated stopping this, but if he didn’t watch, how else would he know what he was dealing with? Besides, he didn’t think the kid was in danger. At least immediate physical danger. For some reason, the rats and the man wanted him to cooperate.
Gradually, the door creaked open. Just a crack at first, a cautious crack as if the person on the other end was getting ready to slam it shut.
But when Peter just stared with a benign smile, the door opened all the way.
A teenager. Skinny, all knobbly knees and pimples, dark circles underneath his eyes and chapped lips as if he’d bitten them until they’d bled. He was short, his head barely over Peter’s shoulders, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He was holding a steak knife so tightly that his hand was white knuckled around the handle.
Peter smiled. “No need for that.” Dipping his head into a bow, he laughed and then stifled it when it made the kid scurry back.
“Ah, no need to be afraid. Jonathan, is it? As you can see, my friends here mean you no harm. And neither do I! Allow me to introduce myself.” Brushing his sleeves as if trying to remove lint, he grinned. “I’m the contract maker. Let’s give you a taste. You must be hungry; I can tell you are. Look at how skinny you are! Well, what can I say, these are trying times, aren’t they? But I can see why you haven’t tried going into the streets and looking for a meal if you live in such a fancy house!”
Peter glanced up at the house with a flirtatious air. “Maybe you even had food that could keep you fed for a bit, hmm? Until the power went, and the food rotted, and, well, here we are. So what are you hungry for, hmm, Jonathan? What do you want?”
“Do you mean it?”
“Of course! You can have anything. Anything at all.” The man tapped his foot. “Well?”
Jonathan inched out of the doorway, his hand clinging to the doorknob. “Pizza? Pepperoni pizza?”
“Hah! You kids are all the same!” Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve got pizza. Come get it,” he said, backing up until he’d retreated into the rat swarm.
Jonathan narrowed his eyes. “You’re trying to trick me.”
“If by trick you mean to get you out of the house, then yeah, I am. But I’m not lying about the pizza. Hold on.”
The man got a faraway look, that same look everyone got as they studied their stat screen.
With a blink, he was suddenly holding something in his hand. Even from here, Logan could smell it, and fuck, did it make his mouth water. He hadn’t had anything to eat other than green beans and tomatoes and canned crap for what felt like an age. That was a slice of pizza in Peter’s hand. Pizza! It was steaming as if he’d just taken it out of the oven.
How the hell had he managed to do that? A spatial storage device? Or something else?
Seeing it, all hesitation was gone. Jonathan stumbled out of the house with an eager, excited smile.
Peter gave him a gentle smile in return and handed him the slice of pizza.
Scarfing it down as if he were starving, the kid closed his eyes, his cheeks bulging as he chewed. But it had only been one slice of pizza, and to someone who looked that hungry, it was hardly anything.
“More?” he asked, his eyes eager.
Peter’s expression turned sly. “Of course you can have more. But you just have to do something for me first. Something minor, something that means nothing at all, really. And by doing it, you’ll get more food, you’ll get a home, and safety. You’ll get a family, kids your own age. You won’t have to worry about going hungry again, about the monsters attacking. And it’s so minor.”
“What is it?”
“Just a little contract.” With a flourish as if he were extending a pen, he made a gesture.
Jonathan looked confused, before he stared unfocusedly in the distance.
Logan suspected he was looking at a System message.
“It’s… why is this so long?”
“Ah. Just terms and conditions, etc., etc. Nothing for you to worry about! Most don’t read beyond the first few paragraphs anyway. Nothing that exciting at the bottom!”
Jonathan squinted at Peter. “That sounds like a trick.”
“It would be a pretty shitty trick if you could figure it out just by reading the whole contract.” He blew out an annoyed breath. “Have it your way, make’s no difference to me. It just means that you’ll be walking down the street with the rats in the dark. But better to be a contract reader than worry about little things like monsters, hmm?”
Jonathan frowned, his mouth curdling. Then diligently, he continued reading.
And reading.
And reading.
Fuck’s sake, just how long was this thing?
And Jonathan seemed to have the same patience as Logan. No patience. Eventually, he started shifting, his mouth in a thin line. His concentration started to fade, and he rubbed his eyes. But Logan had to give him points for effort. He continued reading for another ten minutes before sighing.
“Agreeing to this means that I’ll be fed? Every day?”
The man nodded, eager.
“And that I won’t have to fight monsters? That I’ll be safe?”
Another nod.
“I… I guess…”
“Do you accept?” Peter said, his voice tense.
The kid nodded.
“You have to say it out loud. To the System.” Peter leaned forward and rubbed his hands together, his mouth parted with eagerness.
Jonathan blinked, hesitating. Then he turned and looked at his house, the wide-open door and what must be an empty, lonely home. Especially for a kid all alone. Sighing with his whole body, he turned to Peter and said, “System, I accept.”
Peter gave out a little laugh and then shuddered, twitching before sobering. But he couldn’t stop a self-satisfied smile as he looked down at the ground.
Logan narrowed his eyes. Had the fucker just…?
[Peter Salibron: Level 66. A human being.]
He’d just leveled up.
Well, that was different. Logan hadn’t known that was a possibility. Level up just because you’d managed to trick someone into signing a System contract? That would explain how Peter had gotten so high leveled when he seemed like a weak, squirrely man Logan could force to the ground with a swipe of his fist.
“It’s done!” said Peter with a grin. “So pleased to do business with you, kid!”
“What next? More pizza?”
“Hah! Next, you follow my friends here and they’ll take you to safety!”
Jonathan gave the rats a dubious look. “You’re not coming with them?”
Peter rubbed his mouth, hiding a grin. “Nah, no rest for people like me! It’s up to people like us, Jonathan, people who are right and just. I need to find more little Jonathans like you and bring them to safety. They’re hungry for pizza too, you know! Now shoo, shoo.”
The kid reluctantly walked towards the rats. As one, they dropped to all four paws and turned on a dime, walking away in an army line and streaming down the street. With a helpless, confused look, the kid followed.
When he was far enough away, Peter muttered, “Stupid kid,” and sighed, suddenly all business.
All at once, the anger that had been simmering in Logan’s gut escalated. “It’s time,” he said to Ernie.
“Finally,” said Ernie with a huff. He didn’t wait for Logan to respond and scurried out of his pouch, taking on the colors of Logan’s green shirt. That wouldn’t blend in against his armour, but they no longer needed to be stealthy.
Taking a few strides, Logan pushed off with his Pink Sock, jumping towards the man like a shooting bullet, utilizing every inch of his agility and strength.
Peter didn’t have more than a second to react.
His eyes widening, he shrieked and tried to dart to the side, but Logan was quicker.
“Hey, Peter. How about you answer a few questions for me?” Grasping him by the shoulders, Logan dug in his talons and squeezed.