A NAME FIT FOR A VIOLENT KING (P.1)
On a clear new years' day, 10,000 desiccated corpses spawned above the suburb of New Seattle and smashed against the ground like rain. Most of them resembled humans. They were evenly spaced at first. When they landed, bouncing off cars and rolling down highways, there was no longer a pattern. People sought to connect the dots regardless - like constellations.
The bodies heralded the arrival of New Rules.
My name is Nero B. Thornblood. For the following incomplete Power, I gambled my blood.
VIOLENCE/SEEKING/FREEDOM
+ Manifest teeth on a surface.
+ The teeth will grow on command.
- Can only target red surfaces.
Continued on page 2.
LET ME START WHERE IT BEGAN (P.2)
When the New Rules fell like an executioner's axe, I was riding in the back of a cop car.
It was a simple crime. Just shoplifting some frozen meals for home - a prick called the pigs - and the rest was history. I remember few things about the ride itself. The expression of the cop - a thin, pitying grimace seated below laughing eyes. Chafing wrists, though I was unbound. A lack of space to fit my knees. Even though the car windows and thick partition were see-through, they felt like dark walls closing in.
Well, there were free meals in county jail. It could almost be a vacation if I squinted and turned my head.
So there I was, on a highway heading to be judged, head in a juicer.
And then the bodies fell.
An elongated torso smashed through the windshield and pelted the driver with glass. His shredded corpse slammed against the partition and left a bright red smear.. The car slid to a gradual stop there, ‘cause the hood had caved in, but i realized when my stomach jumped that it teetered right on the edge of the overpass.
For a moment I was stunned. Then I realized that the car was still sort of sliding.
At the same time, lines of blood-red text slid into view.
SURVIVAL TASK:
Escape the car before it plummets.
Time limit: 2 minutes.
Success: 5 PXP.
Failure: Death.
SPECIAL "NEW SEATTLE" OFFER:
Instantly trade 20% of your blood for a random infant Power! You only have the right to do this once. Hemorrhagic shock will occur.
Two minutes is a lot longer for a lethal situation than most people get, I thought, before cursing myself for wasting time on that.
I’VE NEVER BEEN LUCKY WITH GAMBLING (P.3)
But I didn't seem to have a choice at the moment. Something in my instinct was screaming that if I didn't suffer, I wouldn't survive. Even without the scrolling text to corroborate, I trust instinct above all else. So I took a deep breath, ignored the smell of death in the car, and commanded something below myself. Something base and guttural.
And then blood leaves the body.
Overwhelming nausea. The vision blurs and darkens. This is where I am now. Riding a wave of black, struggling to breathe, failing to feel a heartbeat. It feels like forever.
Again that voice screams, muffled now like heard through closed teeth - suffer now or die trying.
The vast wheel spins, and I become aware of three names. PALE/SPOTLIT/DOORS, VIOLENCE/SEEKING/FREEDOM, CURLING/PALE/EYES. Almost hesitantly, they resolve into information.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
PALE/SPOTLIT/DOORS
+ Command copies of a selected object to exit an orifice.
- You can only select one object at once.
- You can only select inorganic objects smaller than a fist.
- Must stare at the orifice of choice for 4 seconds without breaking eye contact.
[ X ] VIOLENCE/SEEKING/FREEDOM
+ Manifest teeth on a surface.
+ The teeth will grow on command.
- Can only target red surfaces.
CURLING/PALE/EYES
+ Generate an accurate health bar for a target when you roll your eyes at it.
My eyes struggle open. My vision drifts and blurs. Heavy eyelids. Heavy limbs. In the same place as the voice - which I belatedly realize is coming from my own mouth - there is knowledge and a small, nascent heartbeat.
An infant Power.
Its name is VIOLENCE/SEEKING/FREEDOM. There's a better name, I’m sure, but it will have to wait. VIOLENCE/SEEKING/FREEDOM is, I recognize, the power to manifest teeth where they belong; red surfaces only, and the squishier the surface the finer my control.
I also recognize that the only red surface in this car is just perfectly squishy - the pulp that remains of the cop.
I glance at the red text.
1:27.
I desperately hope this works.
MOLARS BLOOM BEHIND THE PARTITION (P.4)
I lean forward. I’m squinting to see past the bloody smear.
1:24.
It should be a simple task. Just click the unlock button on the door. With teeth. Not fingers. I fiddle with the feeling on the roof of my mouth. The molars begin to sprout from his body. Like towers. Like fungi.
1:10.
I maneuver the Power and the teeth begin to curl towards the driver door. With a satisfying clicking noise and then the screech of metal, they push down on the button and subsequently burrow through it.
0:59.
I reach for the handle. Oh fuck. It's on the outside.
0:56.
My thinking speeds up. My teeth dig through the car's frame like earthworms. They drill into the door adjacent. With a motion that feels like biting a chunk out of meat, I rip the door free.
0:38.
But I must still be weak from the blood loss, because I don't step out of the car so much as lurch my torso out halfway onto the pavement. For a precious moment, I have to catch my breath. 0:22. My fingers rub raw as I scrabble at the ground. 0:18. I manage to lever my legs into the air, banging my knees against the cramped car. 0:12. My foot catches on the partition, and I push. 0:08. I wriggle furiously. 0:07. My vision blurs. 0:05. I must keep moving. 0:04. My chest heaves. 0:03. My feet desperately kick me out of the car. 0:02. My body freezes, its energy spent. 0:01.
I close my eyes. There is a scraping noise. There is a terrible wind. Heat and light burst in the distance. I can feel my tooth network melting along with the car. A steady scream reaches my ears. My lungs are hoarse and tears are streaming down my cheeks.
It was suffering.
But I survived.
Before I pass into a comfortable dream, red text flits across my vision...
+5 PXP!
Continued on page 9, in issue 3.