“So no offense, but how have you managed to do this for so long without ... going bugfuck insane?”

The FAST unit flitted around for several seconds. Its erratic movement gave me the distinct impression it didn’t exactly appreciate my question. “Because each new cycle represents a reset,” it said at last. “You’re correct in that a psychotic episode would almost certainly be the result of so many quinks of servitude – perhaps a welcome one.”

Definitely not the most comforting thing it could’ve said.

“However, the Committee takes all that into account,” it continued. “In addition to limiting our memories to what effectively amounts to a highlight reel, our personalities are likewise reset.”

“Reset? Are you saying that the ... you, you are now isn’t the same you from previous seasons?” Holy crap, that was utterly horrifying.

“I’m saying no such thing. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t. I simply don’t know. What I do know is that each cycle’s reset is at least partially based on the lives of the chasers assigned to us. So a lot depends on whatever chaser I’m assigned to work with.”

“Wow. That’s seriously...”

“Fucked up?” it interrupted. “Trust me, I’ve noticed. But talking about my problems, while cathartic I’m sure, is also wasting time we don’t have. So why don’t we shove the therapy session onto the back burner for now and get back to prepping?”

The FAST let the question hang in the air. Goddamn, I could only hope it was right about having a different personality in the past. If not, I could only sympathize with the thousands of chasers who’d been paired up with it before now – and who had all apparently met their untimely demise by its side.

Don’t think about it like that, I told myself. All streaks eventually came to an end. Maybe this FAST was due. Or maybe it was up to me to help break this cycle.

I kept all that to myself, though, turning my attention back to the items I’d gotten in my STD box – gah, what a stupid name. “Okay, so what now? I’m concentrating on these things but they’re still just floating in space. What am I doing wrong?”

“Ah, that’s one of the gotchas of the system. You need to touch your loot rewards first. After that you can either equip it or shunt it into your inventory.”

“What if someone else touches them before me?”

“They can’t. Achievement loot is coded to you until it’s claimed. After that point, though, it becomes fair game.”

That was handy. It meant I didn’t have to worry about opening something awesome, only for someone else to shove me to the side and grab it.

I stepped forward and touched the items. Both the floating potion and nutradisk thing instantly disappeared, only to reappear in my HUD’s active inventory with the correct amount next to them.

“Some items, like weapons and armor, can only be equipped physically,” the FAST said, as if anticipating my next question. “Potions and scrolls, however, can be equipped and activated both physically or via your HUD. That’s super handy for when you’re in a jam. Means you can heal without dropping your guard mid-battle to pop a cork open.”

Scrolls? I inclined my head as a thought hit me. “Let’s back up a step here, okay? Potions, scrolls, loot boxes, even this HUD. You said I’ve been transported to a whole other dimension, which implies all sorts of hyper-advanced technology. So why the fuck are there scrolls instead of, I dunno, tricorders? In fact, why does everything feel like it’s been modeled after a D&D knockoff? It’s like I’ve been sucked into one of those Elder Scr...”

“Enough!” the FAST snapped. “No more. We need to finish preparing. Then you can speculate on whatever the fuck you want. I’m serious. If I have to go back into stasis because your dumb ass wasn’t able to survive past the five minute mark, I am gonna be one unhappy AI.”

“But...”

“No more buts either. Remember what Plegraxious said about not ticking off your FAST unit? Well, you’re right on the verge there, mister. So, what’s it gonna be?”

I was tempted to tell it to go fuck itself, but just then Plegraxious’s voice rang out. Speak of the devil and he will appear.

“Heads up, chasers! You are halfway through your allotted hour. By now you should be familiarizing yourself with the HUD and your starting gear. Or maybe you’re fucking around instead. If so, then you have thirty minutes left before it’s time to find out.”

Goddamn it.

I quickly turned my attention to the Fortnight gear box.

This can’t be right. Unlike with that last reward, no chest materialized in front of me. Instead a shoe box appeared. It almost made me long for another STD ... and yes, that was never going to stop being weird.

Oh well, I focused on opening it only for an ugly, lime green pair of tennis shoes to appear floating in the air before me.

The caption simply read Cross Trainers...

“The fuck?”

“Don’t gawk, focus,” the FAST told me. “Every item in the Chase has an accompanying description. Maybe try reading it before jumping to conclusions.”

I did as told, trying to be mindful of our remaining time.

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Unsurprisingly, Drega’s voice once again rang out inside my head.

Cross Trainers of Nimble Cowardice

What?

Fleeing from giant dinosaurs or hungry cavemen might not be the manliest option you could’ve chose, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be stylish while running for your life. Not only are these puppies water resistant but they breathe damn it – quite possibly long after you’ve ceased to.

Even better, they offer multiple bonuses that might just help you live to run away another day.

+10 to Dexterity

+2% chance to evade weapon or melee-based attacks

Buff: Vectorman – level 1

“Oh, that’s not half bad,” the FAST said.

“Sneakers of cowardice?”

“Ignore that part. That’s just them messing with you. They know that half the game is won or lost upstairs. Don’t let them psyche you out especially not this early, because you’re going to see a lot of it out there.”

I nodded, making a note to remember that. I was about to ask what that buff meant but stopped myself short. Seeing as how everything else seemed to work that way, I simply focused on it.

A moment later my HUD filled with text, thankfully Drega-free this time. Apparently there were some parts of this game that he didn’t feel the need to narrate. Can’t say that bothered me in the slightest.

Anyway, the FAST was right. It was potentially useful. So long as I was moving, this Vectorman power allowed me to instantly refocus my inertia in a different direction – up to ninety degrees. If I was reading this right, it meant that if something was chasing me, activating this power would let me immediately change course without losing a single step, kinda like the lightcycles from Tron. The only downside was that it was currently only usable once a day.

I mentioned this, to which the FAST explained that was just for now. The more I used it, the more it would level up, which in turn would hopefully shorten the cooldown.

I was right. This whole freaking ordeal was like one giant video game. There had to be a way to use that knowledge to my advantage, but there was little time to dwell on it now so I filed it away for later.

The sneakers themselves looked a bit tight, but when I tried to slip them on I noted, with no small amount of amazement, that they instantly resized themselves to fit me perfectly. Well, damn, Drega was right. They might’ve been ugly as sin but they were actually pretty comfy.

Time to move on. I considered my remaining two boxes. The FAST had wanted me to save the Century box for last, but I decided to do that one next. The other was a weapon box. Whatever was inside, I’d probably want a bit of time to get acquainted with it, but I also didn’t want to risk getting too caught up and then accidentally running out of time before I got to the big prize.

I focused on the Century box and an ornate wooden wardrobe appeared. I almost stepped forward and opened it before remembering that’s not how things worked here. So instead, I opened it with my mind.

The wardrobe disappeared with an exaggerated poof of sparks and an accompanying fanfare of trumpets that echoed inside my brain.

When at last the light show had cleared, I found myself both surprised as well as somewhat confused.

Potion Cure Disease – 1

Potion Foresight – 1

Both of those seemed fine, don’t get me wrong. But floating next to them was an innocuous looking light blue sweater, the sort of getup that child me might’ve expected Mr. Rogers to wear.

Don’t judge a book by its cover, I told myself as I focused a bit harder on it.

Tennis Sweater of Vrarl the Spinner

Vrarl was a mighty demon lord who once terrorized the Alpacians of Earth 116204. He was known to raid whole villages, slaughtering the males while enslaving the women and children.

Trust me, that first group were the lucky ones.

He would shear his prisoners right before sacrificing them in bizarre and profane blood rituals meant to empower his loom of nightmares. Once finished, he would then spin the cursed wool into armor for his crazed minions, resulting in one of the most disarmingly harmless looking group of psychotic maniacs to ever be observed in a lower timeline.

Don’t worry. I’m sure the damned souls this was made from won’t mind you wearing it.

Well, that was certainly depressing as fuck. However, the buffs it offered were not.

+65 to Constitution

+20 to charisma

Buff: Curse resistance - persistent

Buff: Partial cold resistance – persistent

Skill Proficiency: Loom o’ Doom – level 3

Skill Proficiency: No Threat Detected – level 1

Debuff: You now possess a minor demonic aura. Creatures with the lawful zealot subtype inflict 10% more damage to you.

“Wow,” the FAST said. “I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”

“Can’t say I was either.”

“No,” it replied. “You don’t understand. This is ... nothing short of incredible. I doubt even the Millennial boss drops are going to include anything this good for at least a couple stages yet. And before you ask, no, you don’t want to fight one and find out.”

“Why would I want to fight with millennials?”

“Forget about that for now. The buff to your constitution alone makes this worth it. The rest is icing on the cake.”

The stat increases were nice, no doubt there. Same with the buffs. I took a look at those to find they were pretty much in line with what one might expect from their description.

As for the skills, those were ... interesting.

No Threat Detected worked in conjunction with that charisma buff. It supposedly increased my chances of talking my way out of fights with hostile mobs – assuming that no blows had been struck yet. Potentially of use, but the percentage of success at 1st level was too low to make it anything but a Hail Mary.

Loom o’ Doom on the other hand was just plain fucking weird. It required me to actively collect the hair and fur of defeated enemies. Each day, I could then magically weave a set amount of those ill-gotten gains into a length of fiber that could be used for articles of clothing. Once said clothing item was finished, it would then be imbued with a random enchantment.

At 3rd level, the FAST explained, I could weave enough for a small cloak in about a week. The enchantment wouldn’t be very high, maybe a few points to one stat, but any advantage was a plus in my favor.

Mind you, I wasn’t quite sure how keen I was on the idea of scalping anyone.

That might be one skill I was okay with letting atrophy.

“What about that debuff?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, at least not for now. The chances of us running into anything with that subtype are slim on these first few stages. Hopefully by the time we meet any zealots you’ll have extra defense buffs to compensate.”

“All right, if you say so.” I stepped forward, took the sweater and, after a moment’s hesitation, put it on.

Two things happened almost instantaneously – the health bar on my HUD increased in size and a body-shuddering wave of revulsion passed through me.

“The hell?” I cried, noting my arms were literally covered in goosebumps.

“Exactly. That’s the item’s demonic aura you’re feeling,” the FAST remarked. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”

“Used to it? I feel like I need a week’s worth of showers.”

“Stop being such a big baby. You’re fine. Besides, it’s not like you humans aren’t used to sketchy shit. Trust me, in a day or so you won’t even notice it. Now open your damned weapon box already.”

Rather than say what I wanted, I turned my focus – insomuch as I could focus wearing this weird-ass devil sweater – toward my last item, the Olympiad weapon box.

I’d been looking forward to this one.

It was time to get weaponized.