Chapter 15 - Serpents

I made the long slog back through Royal Heights to the security checkpoint leading into The Commons. The gloom and darkness grew with each step until they enveloped the world. Paradise lost.

The faceless Polizei bots stared at my half-naked, bloodied, hobo-looking form. I could sense, if not see, their condescension. Even disdain.

Glory to the Volunteers.

Cautious, I made my way to the bounty boards, avoiding the neon-soaked main thoroughfares and taking a more circuitous route to my destination. I was one solid hit away from death. Although I had no reason to believe invasive creatures were prowling the streets of The Commons, manually hauling this much loot put me on edge. The only emotional rush stronger than the heightened joy of suddenly acquiring wealth was the precipitous despair of losing it.

I couldn’t go too slow, however. If the skies started dripping pink I might lose my bonus, and I had no way of knowing when that would be. Or would the fact that I completed my task before the next Cycle count? Something told me the system wouldn’t be that forgiving.

As I walked, I did some mental math. I had no available storage and would need 50 to hold my 5,000 Crypt payout. I could remove 30 of my 32 Crystals from my inventory and add them to my makeshift sack. I could also remove my revolver, freeing up the remaining 20.

Not ideal. If I collected my bounty and then died before backing up my data, I could lose it all anyway. And yet I could not back up anything that was not part of my inventory.

Sigh.

I really needed to get ahead of this storage issue. Had I only been faster, more decisive, maybe I could have grabbed one of those rare items from the clurichaun.

One problem at a time.

I stepped into the square and approached the Task Assignment Boards. The streets were oddly empty here. But why? Even the Armory and Supply Depot beyond had no customers going in or out.

Working quickly, I removed all 32 Crystals from my inventory as well as my snubnosed revolver, kneeling and adding them into my carrying sack, which I re-tied.

[MEMORY

* STORAGE

* * 178 / 230]

I accessed the bounty boards, scanning my code. My bounty appeared on the screens.

[Task Complete: Remove Clurichaun from Private Residence in Royal Heights.

Assigned to: Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001.

Task Completion Award: 4,000 Crypt

Bonus Award: 1,000 Crypt

Would you like to receive payment?]

Oh, yes.

The electronic bits streamed into me and I eagerly absorbed them. 5,000 Crypt! The bounty boards shifted as new bounties appeared and others vanished. But the rate was slower than I had seen before, as if there was less bounty traffic at this time. Much less.

[Alert! Account storage almost full.]

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I double checked my menus just to confirm the money was there.

[ECONOMY

* CRYPT

* * 5,000

* CRYSTALS

MEMORY

* STORAGE

* * 228 / 230]

There was a click somewhere behind me. The heel of a boot stepping on asphalt. I slowly turned, clutching my bundle of goods.

“Oi! What do we’s have here?”

There were four of them. Black denim and leather. Punk rock boots. A marble-eyed goon with a cobra patch on his vest and a butterfly knife in his hand.

Razor.

“How nice. You remembers me. I don't think we’s loveted your eemya last raz we met.”

I’m sorry?

“No worries. We's just gonna slice your barcode off as a malenky trophy. And we's be taking your pretty polly too.”

Razor, Buzzcut, and the other two cobras fanned out in a semicircle. They didn’t know how much Essence I had, or what my stats were. They couldn’t know what weapons I was packing. But I was obviously the worse for wear.

Razor licked his lips, crouching into a knife-fighting stance.

“We’s can do this the easy way or we’s can do this the hard way. I'm really hoping you chooses the hard way.”

I swallowed, backing up until I bumped against the bounty boards. My eyes darted to the left left and right, looking for the best route to make a run for it. My revolver was tied up in the bundle. With my free hand behind my back, I subtly materialized my dagger.

Then - CRACK!

The cobras froze as a puff of smoke ricocheted across the dark ground between us.

Was that a gunshot?

“What the–”

CRACK!

Another shot rang out, pinging off the ground. The four goons dropped low, franticing looking for the source of the gunfire. I too searched wildly, leaning close to the bounty boards for any protection they might offer.

“Where’s it coming from!?” Razor shouted. “Show yourself!”

There was a loud clanking and the metal ladder of a fire escape from a nearby building dropped down. A figure wrapped in some sort of dirty tan blanket hung from the ladder, then dropped to the ground. It held a hunting rifle in two hands and shambled toward us.

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I recognized that unusual gait.

Throwing back the hood of the urban ghillie suit, I saw Camel’s trademark welding goggles and knit skullcap. He flashed a gap-toothed smile, training the hunting rifle on Razor.

“Be a horrorshow malchick and go domy, britva. Ookadeet my poor lad oddy knocky.”

I had no clue what Camel was saying, but I was very glad to see a friendly face.

Razor made a show of flipping his butterfly knife around before dematerializing it. His companions remained tense, and each held on to their weapons. I side-stepped across the pavement until I was next to Camel.

Razor threw up his hands in protest, a playful expression on his face.

“Just a lomtick of fun, Camel. We's didn't means nothing by it. Hazing the noob is all.”

Camel aimed down the sights of his rifle right at the center of Razor’s chest.

“All the same, you'd best get out of here before I give you an extra yahma.”

The cobras stood their ground. Razor’s playful expression faded, his grin souring with malice. His metallic lower jaw and black-within-black eyes reflected the city’s neon glare.

“There's four of us and dva of you. How’s you figure that math?”

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Small raindrops spattered the ground.

Nobody moved.

Light rivulets of pink ran through my hair, mixing with my dried blood. The torn strip of my coveralls wrapped around my head grew damp, my bare chest wet.

The goons gnashed their teeth. One by one, they dematerialized their weapons and slowly backed away, looking up at the sky. Camel followed Razor’s every move with his barrel.

“Saved by the rain, noob. Saved by the fraggin’ rain.”

The storm grew heavier, and the four cobras receded into the darkness of a sidestreet.

I turned to Camel in relief.

Thank you! You don’t know how happy I am to see you. How did you…? Why did…?

“Don’t mention it. I wanted to find my droogie and viddied around. I figured you'd make it back to the bounty boards eventually. Why are you messing around with those serpents?”

Serpents? I am not messing with them. They are messing with me. I don’t even know who they are and I don’t care to know.

“They seem to have taken a shilarny in you. Come back to my nook, we can wait out the rain together.”

As the rain increased, I hustled after Camel to the Residential Towers.

We shared the cage elevator and rode up on Camel’s scan to his floor and hurried down the dim hallway.. Soon I found myself crawling into his capsule, under the number 01000010 01100101 01110100 01100001 00111001.

I found it much the same as mine, albeit larger. He had a long workbench with gun parts and other items built into one wall. He also had some high-tech crates stacked in one corner and a tiny kitchenette with a sink the size of an airplane bathroom sink.

The place reeked of smoke and booze.

Crawling on my hands and knees, I sat beside his sleeping pallet while Camel removed his ghillie suit and hunting rifle. The rifle he lovingly placed on his workbench, and the ghillie suit he somehow dematerialized into one of his storage crates. His hands were to his lips in a moment, lighting a fresh cigarette.

“Care for a cancer?”

No thank you.

He shrugged and dragged heavily on the cigarette, absorbed in the tactile pleasure of the behavior. As before, I was completely dry despite the heavy rain only minutes before.

Listen, I don’t want to be a bother. You’ve done so much for me already, I can head back to my tube.

Camel shook his head.

“No. You rest here. Safer to stay at this point. I wanted to lovet up and viddy how you are doing. Completed a bounty on your own?”

That’s right. Clurichaun. Rare.

Camel closed his eyes and nodded sagely, sucking in a lungful of smoke and blowing it out in a billowing stream.

“Ah, yes. Seen odin before. Never killed odin. Tricky buzzards.”

I had learned from context that ‘odin’ meant one in the strange parlance spoken by some of the Volunteers. Not the Norse god. But then again…

I got this rare data card.

I materialized the greenish red card and it floated above my open palm, slowly spinning as the artificial capsule lights played off it. Camel whistled appreciatively.

“A rare card? On only your second bounty? That is special.”

It is labeled Skill. What does that mean exactly?

“Cards can be used for different veshches. Could boost a weapon or armor, some can become skills, some really special cards can even turn into weapons or armor. Many can go either way. But looks like this odin can only be fused onto a skill slot at the forge.”

No doubt that fusing would cost Crystals. I concentrated on the spinning data card, seeing if I could access any additional details.

[Data Card: Clurichaun

Card Type: Skill

Frequency: Rare

Skill Details: Project an illusory image of yourself anywhere within 30 feet. Illusion lasts 30 seconds. Skill takes 30 seconds to recharge after the image fades. Interacting with the image will not dispel it.

Skill Cost: 30 Energy

Size: 10 metabytes]

That’s a lot of thirties. So if I paid to fuse this skill onto a ‘skill slot,’ I could create a temporary illusion. That could come in handy. But 30 Energy? I only had 10. I would have to upgrade my Energy stat twice.

Camel, how many skill slots do I have?

“Four is the default.”

And how do you replenish Energy after you use it?

“That’s easy. Same way you get Essence back. Just rest during a Cycle change. That, or pop some consumables.”

Ah.

I also then realized I would need to free up 8 additional metabytes of storage space if I wanted to recharge my Essence to full during my next rest.

Camel, I want to get your advice on my storage situation. But I… I’m feeling pretty spent all of a sudden. I should head back to my tube.

“Nah. Just sleep here. You can use my pallet. I’ll just be cleaning and oiling my rifle and having a smoke. We can govoreet when you come to.”

Thanks. You’re a friend. Oh, that reminds me! I have something for you. A gift.

I untied my sack of loot and pulled out a bottle of wine, handing it to Camel. He took it in both hands, examining it curiously.

“Where did you get this?”

It… uh… accidentally fell into my bag when I was in a Citizen’s wine cellar in Royal Heights. I’m told it is very, very expensive. At least, it would be in the real world.

“Quite the pack rat, aren’t you? Seems a lomtick too messel for my taste. I’m a simple moodge. But thanks.”

Camel set the fancy bottle aside and began to dismantle his rifle, piece by piece. His second cigarette in as many minutes dangled from his lips.

A rat? Great. I think I preferred being a magpie to being a rat, although neither were all that endearing.

I felt a deep tiredness starting to overpower me. I removed my push dagger from my inventory and placed it in my bag, retying it. Now I would have enough storage space to get my full Essence back. If Camel stole my bag while I was asleep, I would be right and truly screwed.

But I knew where he lived. And not trusting anyone was too exhausting. We all need a safe port in a storm.

Camel… the last time I rested when it was raining, I think I had some kind of disturbing dream. I can’t remember the details, but I feel a deep anxiousness about it. A premonition that something terrible is waiting for me. And yet, I can barely keep my eyes open.

“Don't worry, my droogie. I'll watch over you while you spatchka. I’ll keep the baddiwad dreams away.”