> Congratulations! You have leveled up!
>
> You have 12 Power Points to spend.
>
> Please note: A time restriction has been imposed. Exceeding the time limit will eject you from your personal Blip. You will be returned with The System open in an overlay status.
The number 30 appeared in the top right hand of Nate’s vision and counted down in a strange pattern. It took about 10 seconds to drop down to 29, then 15 seconds to drop down to 28. It would be something to examine more in-depth later. But Nate had to deal with the more pressing situation of not dying.
He quickly skimmed down the list of available abilities and took [Regeneration], a passive boost influenced by [CON]. He took three ranks of it. With his final points, he dropped two into [CON], increasing it to 14, and one in [CHA], because why not? Nate pulled up his status:
> Nate Fredmon:
>
> Rank: Warrior
>
> Level: 2 [Mutant]
>
> STR: 16
>
> DEX: 11
>
> CON: 14
>
> INT: 10
>
> WIS: 13
>
> CHA: 11
>
> [Inspect], [Move Object 1], [Energy Control (Kinetic) 1], [Telekinesis 1], [Regeneration 3]
Nate’s body convulsed with pain as he dropped out of the virtual world known as the Blip and back into his own. His eyesight was blurred with the shock, but a status screen superimposed over his vision helped him to focus. He winced as he felt warm blood oozing out between his fingers.
Taking a deep breath, he filled his lungs with air and felt the energy swelling inside him. He sat there, trying to staunch the bleeding, and watched as a woman swiftly zip-tied the two other criminals. [Erin Cummins, Warrior: [Undefined], Worker: Mechanic - Level 1], the [Inspect] feature flashed. But just as Erin finished up, the one she had zapped started to stir.
“What the f...,” he moaned before figuring out his situation. “You’d better let me out right now, or we will find you and kill you.” With his wrists strapped to his ankles, there was little more he could do than spit into his mask.
“Oh, really?” Erin replied coolly as she bent down and picked up her Taser.
The gizmo was reminiscent of an old heavy-duty flashlight, the kind the police would use, but with a few coils of copper wrapped around it. The woman looked at it and then down at the struggling criminal, smiled, and swung. A loud ping of aluminum on bone echoed throughout the little store.
Erin stepped over the unconscious criminal, wrapped an arm under Nate’s shoulder, and lifted him up, her strength belaying her slender frame.
“Come on, big boy, let’s get you out of here,” Erin said.
“Thanks,” Nate replied. “Hospital?”
Erin hesitated for a moment, casting a quick glance around the area. “Sure, if you want to be busted by the cops,” she said. “I’m not sticking around. There’s been enough crazy in the last day that I expect them to lock everyone up and ask questions later. And the weapon I used wasn’t exactly legal.” She trailed off at the end, her lips tightening into a thin line.
Nate understood her point, and thinking back to the morning, he suddenly worried that he might be on some sort of watch list. The drones, bodycams, and dashcams likely had more than enough evidence to convict him. Nate just hoped that the morning’s Blip unsettled things enough that they wouldn’t bother looking for him. That morning, it already seemed so far away. Nate made a face. “Okay,” he said, his voice low.
Erin nodded, her expression softening. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll get you patched up. Ya ain’t the first idiot who’s gotten stabbed around here.” With that, she shuffled him out to her truck, a big dually pickup, aged with spots of rust starting to appear. Nate leaned against the side and reached for the handle.
“Nope,” Erin stated sharply, her eyes flashing with determination. “I am not having you bleeding all over the insides of Gertrude. You ride in the back.”
Nate opened his mouth to protest, but Erin cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a place nearby. I’ll get you patched up.” Without waiting for his reply, Erin lowered the tailgate and unfolded it a few extra times, creating makeshift stairs. Nate raised an eyebrow at her modifications before climbing into the back of the truck and leaning against the cab with a grunt. He was still feeling really light-headed.
The engine started with a roar, and Erin pulled out onto the street and headed west for about six blocks, Nate mentally making note of their direction. Then she turned right and pulled into a hidden spot, where a metal gate swung open to reveal a massive three-bay workshop. The scent of grease and metal hung heavily in the air, but to Nate, it was almost comforting.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Alright,” Erin said, her voice softening as she parked the truck. “We should be good here. I’ve got a cot over in the corner you can crash in. But first, let’s get you cleaned up.” She grabbed a stool from in front of a grinder and pulled it over for Nate. “Sit,” she said, her tone brooking no argument.
Erin moved through the metal fab shop with the grace of a seasoned scavenger, deftly navigating the maze of clutter and debris that littered the space. She darted between workstations, snatching up mystery items before jamming them haphazardly into her pockets. Boxes and debris were strewn about, but Erin seemed to know exactly where to find what she wanted despite the discombobulated mess.
Meanwhile, Nate surveyed their surroundings. The dim hum of the overhead florescent lights was punctuated by the sounds of rusty scraping as Erin moved yet another box of scrap. The shop was a chaotic hodgepodge of gears, parts, and supplies, and the walls were lined with tools and shelves covered in screws and washers. Vaguely recognizable workstations were set up around each of the bays, and each seemed to vomit out an array of associated implements. Mystery fluids gathered in potentially toxic puddles between the cracks of the concrete floor. A small living area was set up in the back corner. A little TV set on a mini fridge next to an old faded army cot. On the far wall, three short steps lead to a doorway into the side of the building. Erin was clearly living here, but Nate couldn’t imagine anyone choosing this as their home.
Erin cleared off a small folding table with the swipe of her arm, the metal bits and bobbles clanging against the floor. She dragged the table next to Nate and grabbed a box of shop towels and a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. Erin then unloaded her pockets onto the table, and Nate began to worry. As Erin picked up a large pair of metal sheers from the table, a Machiavellian grin crept across her face.
“So, do you think you can pull your shirt off, or do I get to cut it off?” Erin asked menacingly, punctuated with a few snips of the sheers.
Nate hesitated for a moment before replying. “Uh, I’ll try to take it off,” he said, not wanting to be caught shirtless. Better to wear a blood-stained shirt than none at all, he figured. Plus, it was his favorite shirt, and that mattered. “Thank you, I’m Nate.”
“Erin,” she grunted in disappointment before setting down the sheers and picking up a few shop towels. “Lift your shirt and press these against your boo-boo. Then we will get your shirt off one arm at a time.” Nate followed the instructions, and Erin helped pull the shirt over his head.
“You’re surprisingly buff,” Erin said, eyeballing him carefully. “Is that a side effect of being a [Soldier]?” She asked as nonchalantly as she could while fiddling with stuff on the table. Nate gave her the side eye. He hadn’t talked to anyone in depth since The System had been installed. Ultimately, he figured she must also have access to [Analyze].
“I put a few Ability Points into strength,” Nate replied. “I’ve wondered about it a bit, but I think that is what did it.”
“Hunh,” Erin said, “and what exactly is a [Mutant]? You don’t look green and radioactive enough to be one.” She turned, holding a large curved needle and a propane torch. Nate eyed the torch suspiciously. “What?” Erin said with a humph. “It’s to sanitize the needle.”
“[Mutant] is just the class I got,” Nate replied. “It has abilities kind of like superpowers, and it was the most customizable, so I chose it.”
Erin peeled away Nate’s hand from his stomach. And threw the bloody shop towel at the trash. It almost made it in. Then she poured a little peroxide onto the wound.
“It’s nearly stopped bleeding,” Erin said. “What do you mean choose?”
“I had 4 options I thin… yeaouch!” Nate’s reply was suddenly replaced with a scream.
“Don’t move,” Erin said, pushing the needle through the wound again. “Four options? Interesting.”
While getting stitched up, Nate tried to distract himself. Then it clicked into place. Erin was [Soldier: Undefined] and a [Worker]. The system did say that you could change ranks; maybe that is what happened to her?
“Did you get the [Soldier] rank from zapping that guy?” Nate asked directly.
Erin returned his look with a stern gaze that slowly melted but still held a sharp edge. “I didn’t just ‘zap’ him,” she said, “I hit him with an automated electoral fibulator. It will keep muscles seized and exhaust the perp by making their heart struggle to pump blood correctly. What, don’t give me that look. A girl has to protect herself! Now quit distracting me before I sew something shut you don’t want sewn shut.”
Nate grunted a few more times as Erin worked on him. She did a surprisingly good job, and Nate assumed she must have had practice, but he was reluctant to ask. Instead, Nate considered complimenting her when she slapped a shop towel onto the wound and duct-taped it down.
“Alright, now that you ain’t leaking all over the place,” Erin said, “why don’t you take off them boots, and we’ll get ya situated.”
Feeling exhausted, Nate reached down and started to undo the laces on his combat boots. “Where are we anyways?” he asked.
“You’re at my shop,” Erin replied with a shrug. “I scrap cars mostly, but I can also fix ’um or make just about anything. So I kinda do that on the side. But the best part is having lots of leftovers to make stuff with. Like ol’ Gertrude over there has enough surprises to make 007 jealous. I’ll grab you some blankets, and you can take a rest. If you’re not sleepy, the remote is next to the TV. If you cover your shame and wiggle out of them pants, I’ll wash um with your shirt. I don’t want you messing up all my good stuff with your blood.” With that, Erin headed up to the door into the side of the building.
“Hey,” Nate called out as Erin crossed the threshold. “Thank you for everything.”
“Just so you know, if you need to… Well, just go out back to relieve yourself. And if you need to, take a shovel with ya. Sorry, but you ain’t getting into my house without getting some new holes added to you.”
“That’s…” Nate paused, “more than reasonable. Thank you again. And goodnight”
Erin grunted in response and closed the door behind herself. A few minutes later, Nate was comfortable with old musty blankets.
The weariness was threatening to overwhelm him. Nate was about to drift off when the loud sound of flipping open latches caught his attention.
Erin threw open the side door, jumped down over the steps, and started grabbing stuff off a shelf. “Sorry, can’t sleep. New class. Must build!”
Nate gave her a quick inspection [Erin Cummins, Warrior: Tinkerer - Level 1], Worker Level 1 [Mechanic].
Nate watched momentarily as Erin practically flew across her cluttered shop, grabbing odds and ends and even a few bicycles. “So, what is the Tinkerer class?” Nate asked carefully.
“It is the best class ever, " Erin replied, “and not just because it was my only choice. I can totally build all sorts of crazy stuff now. And it just works!”