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Interlude 2 - "The Walking Canyon"

Interlude 2 - "The Walking Canyon"

A warlord union had looked for somewhere to store their massive arsenals. After a short search, they found just the right spot -- the industrial Realm 525. It had all the supplies their secret base would need and great infrastructure so they could subtly transport millions of credits of weapons to the place. Then the union of warlords hired the best company to, without raising suspicion, dig out a massive cave system under the Realm whilst a construction company planned the base.

The warlords’ enemies sent out small armies of bounty hunters after them. Every single day, those contract killers got more vicious, closer to killing their targets.

The warlords, being the reasonable people they were, got scared of not having a safe base and tightened the deadline, offering hefty bonuses, thousands of credits and promotions, for the workers if they finished on time.

The day had passed quickly. From six in the morning to midnight, the third crew worked, trying to finish the underground excavation process before the deadline tomorrow. This job was supposed to be their way out of the gritty hell of demolition in the wasteland, but halfway done, as the deadline updated, they’d realized they wouldn’t ever make it in time. Considering all the safety and stealth precautions, the team couldn’t finish without an extra week. So they slowed down and gave up on their dreams.

Except for Foreman Churchill.

It was late in the night, five hours from the deadline. Churchill’s dim table light glowed no matter what time of day -- the caves were always dark. The quiet ceiling fan dispersed the smell of sweat and dirt, cooling his and Philip’s sweaty heads.

“Do you even respect me?” Churchill waved his hands around.

“I do, but I also have a mind of my own.” Phillip remained calm, used to dealing with Churchill’s insane requests. “I’m not doin’ it. I’ve been at work for the past twenty hours. My hands, they’re shaking, my eyes, they’re blurry and my ears are ringin’ -- that’s a recipe for a mistake!”

“I’ll come with you then, look over your shoulder,” Churchill said. “You do trust me, don’t you?”

“Aight, we ain’t gonna make any mistakes, but you gotta realize that amount of explosives, they’re insane,” Phillip spoke.

“Calm down, the math says it’ll be alright. People just might notice a little rumble.”

“The calculations ain’t everything. They factor in the data to figure out the maximum firepower the land will handle, but we don’t have all the data. What if the load goes boom in the wrong direction? It could swallow the base or easily cause a collapse. What do you think we spend most of the day doing? All those reinforcements, blast shields and geeks, them are here so the shit that we don’t know could happen has no chance of happenin’.”

Getting more frustrated (and frantic) by the minute, Churchill tapped his foot. He understood all these concerns well--he wouldn’t be a foreman otherwise--but the promotion, being recognised as an engineering genius, mattered more to him than pitying others, who hadn’t ever worked as hard as him. Indeed, all his men were exhausted, but at the same time, the finish line couldn’t be closer. One big load and the excavation could finish. He just needed to convince someone to do it.

“I’m ordering you.” Churchill put his fist down. “Take the explosives, transport them to ground zero, set them up.”

“And I’m refusin’ your order.”

“Then you’re fired.”

“Go the fuck ahead, you fire me all you want.” Phillip stood up and headed towards the door. “Experts like me are highly in demand. I’ll find a gig in two weeks, bet my nuts.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Churchill jumped to his feet. “I’m gonna write a negative letter about you, I’m gonna put a contract on your head!”

Phillip stopped in front of the door, letting it slide open.

“You didn’t notice, did you? I don’t give a fuck,” he said. “Goodnight, foreman.” He walked out.

As Churchill strided towards the door, Phillip popped back in for a moment.

“I got an idea,” he said. “Ruslav’s an idiot -- maybe ask him?” The worker saluted and left for real.

Churchill halted, cramping his hands into the tightest fists he could. Fuck you, he thought, the panic putting a haze over his mind. He had to make up a solution, but couldn’t so he turned to the only thing on his mind.

Ruslav.

***

First the foreman had to walk through the dark base, stationed near the caves’ entrance, to the warehouse. In total, there were four buildings: foreman’s quarters, closest of all to the exit, the warehouse, the canteen and the barracks.

His way lit by the CHEK’s faint light, he entered the warehouse. The crew used this portable warehouse on every job they got. At this point, Churchill could navigate it with closed eyes. And he did. He entered, thinking about Ruslav, and walked right, to the miners’ room. There, he grabbed a cave self-defence kit, a steel rod and a levitating transportation cube.

The thing was a minecart which could close and didn’t need rails.

Next the foreman walked up to a vault, waited till the scanner recognized his CHEK and grabbed a few piles of tiny chrome balls -- explosives.

Churchill exited the warehouse with all the things Ruslav would need and a way to pressure the man into accepting his suggestion.

If I push all of these things into his grip, it’ll be easier to talk him in.

The gray block of barracks stood, quiet and dark, except for one faint light. The little red dot shined in front of the building, lighting up the tattooed face of a two meter tall man. He sat on a metal chair, hardhat covering his head, tattoos covering most of his arms.

“Bad idea, chief.” Pointing at the transport cube, Ruslav exhaled a nasty cloud of smoke. “We didn’t make it.”

“We still can!” Churchill waved after himself, pushing the transportation cube towards the worker. “It’s a twenty minute job with the biggest payoff you’ll ever see!”

“And the biggest shitstorm if something go wrong.” Ruslav put a chunk of tobacco into his pipe, compressed it and took a deep drag. Then, he pushed the levitating cube away, shaking his head. “I’ll say this just in case: I quit. You can’t force me to go down with you.”

Ruslav had gotten way too hardened and way too resilient to bullshit: Churchill’s plan broke apart instantly. Broken himself, he sat in a rusty chair in front of Ruslav.

“Why?” The foreman said, shaking his head. “Why does everyone want me to fail, take away the things I’ve worked so hard for?”

“No one does, tovarishch.” Ruslav patted the foreman’s shoulder. “You’re the chief, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to listen to what we say. It’s impossible to reach the deadline now. And your idea to do the impossible is bad.”

“So you’re saying I don’t listen to people? The expression on Churchill’s face turned from disappointment to fury. “You’re calling me a fool? You’re telling me I don’t know what I’m doing?!”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Doesn’t listen to what we say,” Ruslav muttered and looked away, withdrawing as far as he could without moving a centimeter.

The foreman screamed in his ears for five minutes. All that time, the man’s gaze remained focused on an object in the distance. Churchill realized all of his suspicions had been true: other people were useless, stupid cowards. He turned to his transportation cube and pushed it towards the depths of the cave.

Ruslav stared at the foreman’s back. He’d never see the man’s eyes again.

***

Churchill had trudged through these narrow passes and cave systems quite a few times less than the hallways of the warehouse, but he could still navigate them with closed eyes. Yet this time his eyes remained open, gaze flicking from side to the other. Even though there were support beams, barriers and all sorts of other things on every wall, a chunk of the ceiling or an unnoticed boulder could crush his head at any moment

Fifteen minutes of intense heart beating passed before Churchill reached ground zero. He hadn’t gotten a scratch and his health hadn’t gone down from 100%, but dust still covered his sweaty skin.

The foreman stopped the levitating transport cube and opened the hatch on its bottom, unleashing hundreds of tiny chrome balls, each with the explosive power to turn a levita into ash.

He grabbed a steel rod and started banging on the ground, opening up big cracks. His feet kicked dozens of explosives into them before he moved on to the walls. In ten minutes, every surface in the little cave had a crack, full to the brim with tiny chrome balls.

Churchill stepped back to the transportation cube, grabbing a small remote. There were two buttons on the plastic square and an antenna sticking out of its top. The foreman tapped the green button.

Every single explosive in the room started glowing red, like the eyes of a thousand predators. Two explosives glowed yellow.

Churchill’s brow furrowed and he tapped the green button again. Every light went dark for a split second before shining again. Yet still, two of the tiny balls were yellow.

Hand on a laserpistol in his belt, the foreman approached the source of the problem. He should’ve been more careful, but his hurrying made him forget past experience. Things like this had happened before. That’s why he didn’t come here with only explosives and guns. When his CHEK’s light shined on the two yellow lights, he remembered that and jumped back.

A glowing cave parasitius waited on the wall.

Parasitiuses, in essence black and yellow noodles with a thirst for human blood, can be found in almost every cave in the world. The creatures have a lot of intelligence and slow metabolisms, allowing them to wait decades for their next meal.

These creatures’ secret is a gas that covers their skin and doesn’t allow any food they’ve consumed to escape their body until their next meal. Sometimes, the gas mutates and starts glowing.

Parasitiuses rely on stealth to catch their prey -- the mutation curses those born with it.

That’s why glowing parasitiuses are so rare… And why they’re hundreds of times stronger than the rest.

What do I do?! the thought flashed through Churchill’s mind. Only one thing!

He grabbed his laserpistol and lit the creature up. From the weapon’s screeches and red lasers, he went deaf and blind Ten seconds later, when his senses returned, a hundred tiny glowing specks crawled towards him with the speed of a bullet.

Dying, the parasitius had laid more children than the laserpistol had charges.

The foreman tripped over his feet in panic. He tried crawling backwards whilst blasting the thousand tiny eggs with lasers. Upon reaching his legs, each of the glowing eggs grew into a full fledged parasitius. They gnawed at every part of his body, leaving his limbs, chest and head covered in tiny bitemarks. Some forced their way into his mouth, tearing off pieces of his tongue.

[Warning! Damage: -23 to health]

Crying, Churchill stood up and forced himself to the transportation cube. The pain of thousands of bites every second numbed his nerves, allowing him to focus on getting what he needed: the cave self-defense kit.

[Warning! Damage: -17 to health]

Churchill took a black rod out of the kit and mumbled a command to his CHEK. The little device scanned the rod and, from both sides, the rod started emitting violet flames.

When the gas on the parasitius’s skin combined with the gasses emitted by the fire, a third gas was created. It kept filling the parasitius until a simple law of physics took over, splattering the little creature.

[Congratulations! Gained perk: I Fight Or I Die I ]

Covered in blood and the remains of a thousand parasites, Churchill collapsed to the ground. Breathing in relief, he spit everything out of his mouth and waved the flare around, making sure no other living was in here with him. Then, he crawled to the remote and started making his way out of his fucking place.

Only a few hours to the deadline, he thought. I gotta prove all of these idiots wrong.

***

In the mirror, Churchill’s suit looked even better than it felt on him. Yet he still frowned, his index finger running over the edge of his mouth. It wiped away a green drop of goo.

[Warning! Damage: -1 to health]

That’s not good, he thought, washing the hand. I should wake the doctor up, but that would make me look weak and foolish.

I’ll prove all of these idiots wrong, the foreman concluded, exiting his quarters, then I’ll get some medicine to help with the infection.

Churchill stopped in the middle of the base, facing the entrance of the barracks. With a sheepish grin on his face, he took the remote out of his expensive suit’s pocket and flipped the little glass case protecting the second button from an accidental press. He crossed his arms. His sheepish grin expanded. His finger pressed the button.

Instantly, the ground rumbled a little.

See? Churchill thought. This is nothing more than a small boom…

The rumbling continued, getting stronger. Cracks formed in the walls and in the ground, rocks started falling from the fragile ceiling. Then, out of the dark depths of the man made cave, a massive cloud of blue fire emerged. It kept going, swallowing everything in its path: the warehouse, the canteen, the barracks.

Shrills echoed inside the cave as a wave of heat engulfed Churchill. In the center of the cave, the ceiling collapsed in, starting a chain reaction.

The foreman broke his dumbfounded stare at the chaos in front of him and started running. Fallen rocks had clogged up half of the exit. Churchill turned to his quarters--which the flames had spared, but the rocks hadn’t--grabbed the steel rod out of the transportation cube he’d left in a hurry and entered the massive exit.

In a daze from the heat, the pain, the screams and the CHEK messages, Churchill dug himself out.

As the morning sun rose into the sky, the foreman stood in the desolation, staring at the collapsed Realm ahead. Blue flames burned on its shattered walls, some of which, like the sea of buildings, had collapsed into the massive caves below.

These godly structures had seemed undestructable. Seeing one in ruins for Churchill was like seeing a god for a devout follower.

Then, Churchill’s attention waned from the chaos.

[Congratulations! LVL Up; Reward: +2 Strength; +1 Luck; +1 Dexterity]

[Congratulations! LVL Up; Reward: +3 Endurance; +1 Eyesight; +1 Charisma]

[Congratulations! Gained perk: Slaughterer I]

[Congratulations! Gained perk: The Curse of the Killer]

[Congratulations! Upgraded perk: Slaughterer I now Slaughterer II]

[Congratulations! Upgraded perk: Slaughterer II now Slaughterer III]

[Congratulations! Upgraded perk: Slaughterer III now Climber of the Bloodbath Mountain]

[Congratulations! Upgraded perk: Climber of the Bloodbath Mountain now Looking Down From the Pinnacle of Bloodshed]

[Congratulations! Upgraded perk: Looking Down From the Pinnacle of Bloodshed now The Walking Canyon of Death]

Why only two levels up? he thought. I don’t think anyone else in history has ever killed as many people in one day as I have!

I guess I should feel a little bad, but… even the CHEK agrees this is a good thing -- look at all those perks I got! I haven’t even heard about most of these!

The foreman checked out his perks.

[The Curse of the Killer (?)

Bonus: Being is invulnerable to all negative emotions and emotional manipulations;

Debuff: Being cannot level up and all bonuses of all other perks are weakened by 50%]

[The Curse of the Killer | A two sided perk for beings who have--without feeling guilty--killed exorbitant amounts of beings | Can be removed once being atones or feels remorse]

What is this bullshit? Churchill threw his head back.

[The Walking Canyon of Death (?)

Bonus: +2.5x to all stats; ??????; Ability to create a canyon anywhere; ???????]

[The Walking Canyon of Death | ???????]

Churchill forgot about his frustrations with the curse in an instant -- he’d gotten a mystical perk!

I didn’t think I’d get one so soon! He opened his character screen. His nickname had changed from whatever boring nonsense he’d made up as a teenager to The Walking Canyon. It really is a mystical perk!

Fuck… yeah!

Churchill’s smile was as wide as the canyon he’d opened under Realm 525. Some goo dripped down his lip, but he ignored it, thinking, I might not have gotten that promotion and I won’t be recognized as a genius engineer, who I absolutely am, but at least I got a one of a kind perk.

I am The Walking Canyon!

Just that makes it all worth it.