Blake plopped down onto the couch, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion he’d been ignoring. Rachel stood awkwardly near the window, peeking out into the dark labyrinth, her gun still in hand.
“Taking a breather?” she asked, sounding skeptical.
“Something like that,” Blake muttered. He swiped the air in front of him, bringing up the system interface. “Gotta see where I stand after all this chaos.”
Rachel frowned. “You mean, like… stats? A character sheet?”
Blake didn’t answer immediately, too distracted by the glowing screen that materialized before him.
Blake Morgan – Level 8
Titles: Florida Man (Legendary)
For embodying the undying spirit of Florida Man—chaos incarnate, master of questionable decisions, and lord of the left turn—you have earned the honor of a lifetime. Your audacious display of reckless bravery, unparalleled improvisation, and total disregard for common sense has been immortalized.
But wait, there’s more! Your reward comes with an exclusive Florida Man Makeover!
* Legendary Mullet: A mane of glorious, sun-bleached locks to command respect (or fear) from everyone you meet.
* Heroic Mustache: Thick, regal, and entirely too proud of itself. Perfect for intimidating enemies or charming swampfolk.
* Exclusive ability: Born to Turn Left. Perfect for evasion, confusion tactics, or just making NASCAR fans weep with pride.
Now go forth, champion of chaos, and unleash your questionable genius upon the world!”
Teddy-Terminator Friendship is Futile
Deal 25% more damage against stuffed animals.
All stuffed animals are automatically hostile.
XP 32,000
HP 205/205
MP 110/110
STA 132/132
Strength 6
Dexterity 7
Constitution 9
Intelligence 15
Wisdom 8
Charisma 8
Perception 7
Luck 1
Abilities:
ArcBolt Novice 6 SP 22,500/28,000
Your aim improves by 5%. Yeah, that’ll help, right?
Tactical Awareness Novice 7 SP 25,000/28,000
Your brain's reaction time is 5% faster now, and your ability to form strategies is just a little more efficient. I mean, it's not like you were doing that great before, right?
Techsmithing Journeyman 1 SP 228,500/231,000
Congratulations, Blake! You've unlocked Techsmithing, which, let’s be real, was inevitable. This ability allows you to take anything with a circuit, bolt, or screw and make it just a little bit better—or at least different. Who needs brand new tech when you can slap some duct tape and "innovative" thinking on old junk to get something almost functional? With Techsmithing, you can upgrade, modify, or completely butcher existing tech to suit your whims. It's not quite magic, but it’s close enough—kind of like a wizard with a wrench.
Wheelman Novice 9 SP 47,750/55,000
Master the art of driving under pressure. Your skill behind the wheel is unparalleled—so long as the road is covered in chaos and your survival depends on a high-speed escape. This ability lets you weave through obstacles, outmaneuver enemies, and navigate the impossible with reckless abandon. Just don’t think too hard about the consequences.
Warning: Performing stunts or high-speed maneuvers may cause the laws of physics to occasionally take a vacation. Results may vary, but your vehicle's destruction? Almost guaranteed.
Born to Turn Left Novice 250/1000
Perfect for evasion, confusion tactics, or just making NASCAR fans weep with pride. +5% Handling when driving
Equipment:
ARC-GAUNTLET MK I
For the daring innovator with a penchant for electrifying solutions—and no sense of self-preservation. Featuring the cutting-edge Arcbolt Generator you ripped from the smoldering wreckage of a murder bot, this bad boy channels high-voltage energy straight to your fingertips. Perfect for stunning enemies, frying electronics, or accidentally zapping yourself when you forget to ground the circuits.
Powered by 8 MP per shot, the Arc-Gauntlet MK I combines sleek craftsmanship with just enough reckless engineering to make OSHA weep. The built-in charge indicator lets you know when it’s ready to fire... or about to explode. Warning: May cause singed eyebrows, unplanned villain monologues, and the eternal regret of aiming at the wrong target.
Side effects include:
* Temporary god complex.
* Awkward explanations for the scorch marks on your sleeves.
* Zero warranty. No refunds, no replacements, no pity.
Use responsibly—or don’t. It’s not like anyone’s keeping score. Yet.
Mowtivator: Apocalypse Edition
For the discerning post-apocalyptic lawn enthusiast who demands more than just a clean yard—because why stop at mowing grass when you can mow down everything in your path?
the ultimate combination of brute force and questionable design choices. Equipped with reinforced armor plating scavenged from forgotten mechanical beasts and a custom-built arcbolt generator that might also double as a potential hazard to your health, this beast is more than capable of turning overgrown lawns into war zones.
Key Features:
* Unstoppable Off-Road Capability: Whether you're crushing weeds or enemies, the Mowtivator Apocalypse doesn’t just mow—it obliterates. The upgraded frame, forged with heavy-duty steel plates, ensures this machine can handle whatever terrain you throw at it... or whatever terrain throws back at you.
* Arcbolt Surge Cannons: Because nothing says “I’m serious about mowing” like hurling electricity at your problems. Whether you’re stunning the enemy or shocking yourself into an existential crisis, the Mowtivator has you covered. (Warning: May cause minor electrocution, questionable decisions, and irreparable damage to your dignity.)
* Grinder Launcher: Why settle for trimming edges when you can launch your bear-turned-combatant into the fray? Equipped with a Grinder 2.0-powered catapult, the Mowtivator Apocalypse lets you hurl your furry friend at targets with all the grace and subtlety of a wrecking ball.
* Front-Mounted Shock Claw: Equipped with razor-sharp claws and an electrified strike powered by the arcbolt generator, this front-mounted beast rips through enemies and obstacles alike, leaving a trail of chaos and sparks in its wake. Whether clearing debris, tearing through enemies, or just showing off, the Shock Claw brings the power of shock and destruction to the frontlines of your Mowtivator Apocalypse Edition.
Exterminator Coveralls (Utility): +20% damage to insects, +20% damage from insects.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
(Warning: Sleeves not compatible with the Florida Man title. Deal with it.)
Boots of Fleet Feet (Rare): +10% movement speed, +2 Dexterity.
I stared at the stat screen, tapping my fingers on the dashboard as I thought about where to put my points. Intelligence, Strength, and Constitution—three points to make things better. I could feel Elmo’s presence in the back of my mind, like a gnawing itch I couldn’t scratch.
"One point in Strength," I muttered to myself, dragging the slider up. "One in Constitution, and... yeah, one in Intelligence." I grinned. “Maybe I’ll stop running out of MP like an idiot now.”
"Really? Intelligence?" Elmo snickered. "What are you gonna do, outsmart the bugs? Maybe you’ll figure out how to get a real job. You could be a 'thinking man’s warrior.'”
I ignored him, hitting the confirmation button. "Shut it, Elmo. At least now I’ll have a fighting chance when the system decides to turn on me again."
Rachel looked at me, the confusion in her eyes not quite hiding the disbelief. "What are you talking to?" she asked, crossing her arms. "You keep acting like there’s someone else in here with us. You’re not... hearing voices, are you?"
I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Look, Rachel, I’m not crazy," I said, my voice a little more forceful than I intended. "There’s a voice in my head. His name’s Elmo, and he’s annoying as hell."
She stared at me, her brow furrowed. “You’re... talking to yourself?"
“No,” I said with exaggerated patience. "I’m talking to him. Not to myself. Big difference. Trust me, you’d understand if you had an annoying AI that wouldn’t shut up, either."
Elmo piped up again, smug as ever. "Oh, I see. So now I’m the crazy one? You’re the one having conversations with a disembodied voice. Classic denial, Blakey-boy."
I shot a glare at the empty space next to me. "Shut. Up. Elmo."
Rachel gave me another look—this one more concerned. "Maybe you should—"
“Don’t,” I cut her off, putting the Mowtivator into gear. "I’m not crazy. I’ve got this under control. Just... let’s keep moving."
Rachel didn’t respond, though I could tell she wasn’t buying it. She stayed quiet for a long while, though, probably trying to process the bizarre things happening around her.
And as for me? I was just trying to keep my head on straight—because it sure as hell felt like it was on the chopping block at any moment.
I sat on the couch, staring at the cracked wall across from me, trying to make sense of the madness. Rachel was by the window, arms crossed, her gaze lost in the view of the empty street outside. The silence between us was heavy, and the tension was almost unbearable. Elmo’s voice buzzed in my mind like a mosquito, relentless as ever.
"Hey, Elmo," I asked, trying to shift the focus, "Is there a way I can see Rachel’s stats? You know, like her level or whatever?"
Elmo’s response was annoyingly chipper, as if I’d asked the most obvious question in the world. "Oh, sure. You can invite her to a party. That’ll let you see her stats—level, abilities, and all that juicy stuff the system hides from you. But here's the kicker: when you party up, you’ll share XP. So, you better be careful about that, Blakey-boy. You’re not the only one on the team now."
I glanced at Rachel. She was still staring out the window, lost in thought. She didn’t exactly look like she was ready to become a part of any ‘team,’ especially not with me. But at this point, what choice did she have?
"Party?" I muttered to myself. "Guess there’s no escaping it."
Elmo laughed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, it’s just like those online games, kid. You all share XP, level up together, and eventually, you’ll be one big happy dysfunctional team. Not that it’ll make her your best friend or anything, but hey, at least it’ll stop her from being a liability."
I hesitated, weighing the decision. There was no way around it. "Fine," I muttered. "Let’s do it. Invite her to the party."
Elmo’s smugness practically oozed through my skull. With a quick tap, I sent the invite to Rachel. "You’re in," I said flatly. “Party’s up.”
Rachel blinked and turned to look at me, clearly confused. "What’s this about a party?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
I shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just how things work now. We’re... uh, a team now, basically."
Before she could respond, Elmo couldn’t resist making his entrance. "Oh, this is rich. Look who finally joined the party. It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Rachel?"
Rachel whipped her head towards me, her face a mixture of shock and confusion. "What the hell? Did you just—did you just speak?"
"Yep," Elmo purred, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "It’s me, the ever-charming voice in your head. And honestly, Rachel, I’ve been dying to ask—how exactly did you break up with Blakey-boy? Was it a Chandler and Janice thing, or did you hit him with the ol’ ‘we were on a break’ excuse?"
I couldn’t help it. As soon as Elmo finished his jab, I broke into laughter, leaning back against the couch with my hands on my stomach. It was one of those moments where the absurdity of it all hit me, and I just couldn’t stop myself.
Rachel, on the other hand, looked like she’d just been hit with a ton of bricks. She snapped around, her face flushing bright red. "Excuse me?" she barked, her hands on her hips. "I didn’t—"
I wiped a tear from my eye, trying to stop the laughter. "Oh, come on, Rachel," I said, still chuckling. "Elmo’s got a point. That whole ‘we were on a break’ thing? Classic!"
Rachel shot me a glare, crossing her arms. "I didn’t— Look, it’s not what you think, alright? It’s complicated!*"
I raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, trying to hide my grin. "Complicated?"
"Yes!" she practically shouted, her voice getting defensive. "It was... I don’t know, okay? I just wasn’t ready for all this. I mean, what was I supposed to do? I tried calling you. I tried to apologize, but you wouldn’t answer. You didn’t want to hear it, I get it. You didn’t want to hear why it happened or listen to my excuses. And honestly, I don’t blame you. You probably hated me, hated him, and even hated yourself for letting it all go down. It doesn’t matter now. The truth was out, and it set you on a different path—one without me, at least for now. I get that, too."
I sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, this isn’t exactly where I thought I’d end up, either.”
I could hear the regret in my voice, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all her fault. "I’m sorry, Blake. I don’t even know where to start. I... I should’ve never done that. I messed up. Badly."
I held up a hand, not wanting to hear any more of it. "Stop. I don’t want to hear it. It’s over. We can’t fix it. We’re not going to fix it, so let’s focus on what’s in front of us." Standing up, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. "We’ve got mutant ants chasing us, and probably more crazy shit coming our way. I don’t have time to keep thinking about this."
Her voice barely above a whisper, she asked, "You really think you can just... forget it all?"
I stared at her for a long moment, hardening my resolve. “I don’t think about it. I just do what I have to. I don’t have time for anything else.” I paused, letting the weight of the moment settle in. “And if you can’t do the same, maybe we shouldn’t be working together.”
The words came out harsher than I’d intended, but I couldn’t take them back now. She had to understand. Rachel looked like she’d been slapped, and the guilt gnawed at me, but I couldn’t let myself care too much right now. She’d made this mess, and now we both had to live with it.
Rachel cleared her throat, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. “I get it. I’m in this, Blake. I’ll deal with it. Whatever comes next, we’ll figure it out.”
And then, of course, Elmo had to chime in. "Oh, here we go. Full therapy session. Should I grab some popcorn?"
I could feel Rachel’s eyes on me, but I wasn’t in the mood to return the look. It was like she was trying to gauge how pissed I was, but honestly, I didn’t even know anymore. A part of me was still angry, but another part of me just... didn’t care. We were in the middle of a goddamn apocalypse, for crying out loud. The personal stuff? That felt small in comparison right now.
She was quiet, but I knew she was thinking about it. Probably expecting some big emotional outburst from me, but that wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t interested in hashing out the past when I had mutant ants chasing us and who knows what else coming our way.
"Blake?" she finally spoke, her voice hesitant, like she was testing the waters.
I just shook my head. "Not now, Rachel. We have bigger things to deal with."
I could see her eyes narrow, like she was about to say something more, but I didn’t give her the chance. My focus stayed on the road ahead. At this point, her emotions didn’t matter to me. It wasn’t that I was cold or indifferent—it was just that surviving had to come first. Everything else could wait.
Blake sat back on the couch, his gaze drifting over Rachel. There was nothing particularly remarkable about her appearance, but he had learned to appreciate the practicalities of her gear and the subtle strengths she showed, even in the midst of all this chaos.
He couldn’t help but glance over her stats in the system, watching the numbers flicker before his eyes.
Rachel Summers Stats (Level 3)
XP 6,000
HP 115/115
MP 46/46
STA 63/63
Strength 9
Dexterity 12
Constitution 11
Intelligence 8
Wisdom 8
Charisma 13
Perception 7
Luck 0
Abilities:
Marksman Novice 2 3000/6000:
Increase accuracy and damage with ranged weapons by 5%. Greatly enhances precision and lethality with firearms, bows, and other ranged tools.
"Why are you staring at me?" Rachel's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, her discomfort thick in the air.
Blake blinked, still staring, but now it was less out of curiosity and more to complete his scan of her stats. "I’m not staring," he said, the words slipping out without much care. “Just, uh, checking the scan.”
She squirmed in her seat. "Checking the scan? What does that even mean?"
Blake gave her a blank look, not bothering to hide the slight smile at her confusion. "It’s just… a thing. The system." His eyes moved back to the screen as if to punctuate his point.
Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Are you scanning me now?" she pressed, her voice tightening. “Like, in front of me?”
Blake finally looked up from the screen, his face neutral. "Yeah. But don’t worry, it’s nothing personal."
Blake glanced at Rachel again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he compared her stats to his own. "Elmo," he muttered, keeping his voice low enough so Rachel couldn’t hear, "why does she have better stats than me? I’m the one driving this thing, putting up with all the crazy. What gives?"
Elmo’s voice immediately piped up, way too smug for Blake’s liking. "Oh, come on, Blakey-boy," Elmo said, practically cackling. "It’s because you’re a bitch, that’s why. You whine more than a cartoon character who got caught in a blender. You’re basically the human version of Scrappy-Doo. Remember him? No one liked him either."
Blake groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Seriously, Elmo? Scrappy-Doo? You’ve got to be kidding me."
"Not kidding, Blakey," Elmo shot back, his tone full of mockery. "You’ve got all the attitude but none of the power. She’s got the focus, the precision, and she's actually doing something useful. You? You're just whining your way through all this like some second-rate sidekick. Maybe if you put down the metaphorical Scooby Snacks and actually stepped it up, you’d see a stat boost yourself. But, nah. You’re stuck at the starting line."
Blake resisted the urge to throw something. "I didn’t ask for your opinion, Elmo. Just… keep it to yourself."
Elmo didn’t let up, continuing to laugh under his breath. "Sure thing, Blakey. Just remember, you asked."