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Trash Knight: System Recycler: A litRPG Satire that No One Asked For
110: Revisiting the Wonderously Magical Place Where it All Began

110: Revisiting the Wonderously Magical Place Where it All Began

"I, uh, I dunno if this is a good idea," I said.

"Nah," Jessie said. "You worry too much."

"But it's a nuke."

"It'll be fine~~" She tightened the rope around the nuke and gave it a few taps with her foot. "See? Safe and secure."

The crazy bitch had essentially lassoed the nuke and tied it to the back of the T-34/85, intending to just drag it back to our flying battleship. Or, I guess, just another Tuesday in crazy town.

Hmm-click-kerchunk.

+10 Float Potions

I handed the bundle to her. "At least, you know, maybe don't drop the nuke on your way back."

"Aww~" She touched her cheeks like some dainty princess. "You're so sweet. I'll be sure to suck your dick so hard it will rip from the bottom of your torso."

"We've been through this, Jessie. I don't have a dick."

It was too late. She was already back in the tank, driving it, not even bothering to use the fucking float potions I gave her, and as the tank hummed down the street, the nuke scraped and bumped and ground along behind it.

We all winced with each and every bump until she was far enough that we had just resigned our fate to a fiery apocalyptic death.

"Redrim," Jenna said. "The Research Facility is under our control, but they haven't found any doomsday weapons."

I looked again at that nuke that rolled around behind Jessie's tank. Maybe all that worry was for the nuke, and the rest was just exaggeration.

Of course, that's not to say the world was suddenly safe again. Marianna had essentially fucked off to elsewhere while giving us the imperial capital. She had a plan up her sleeve, but until we knew what it was, or at the very least, where she was, there was little we could do.

"Redrim," Vil said. "We should head over there. I'd like to see it again. For old time's sake."

Jenna stared at him. "Same," she said.

I looked around at the carnage of the city. The sky was a pastel purple and pink mix, probably from all the dust and smoke in the air. It smelled like woodsmoke and spent gunpowder with a hint of freshly cut lumber.

"Go on," I said. "There's somewhere else I'd like to see."

Vil and Jenna glanced at one another then headed off through the ruins of the city.

There was still a battle here, but the writing was on the wall for all to see, and the last of Marianna's forces were either dead or surrendered. Still, thumps of explosions or cracks of gunfire still echoed here and there, but it was somehow peaceful. Just background noise.

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The Gimp King stepped over and pat me on the shoulder. His bulge throbbed graciously. "Thank you, brother. If it wasn't for you, I'd--"

"Don't mention it," I said.

He smiled. "Now that I know your foe is the same as my own, my resolve has heightened to heights beyond. I must convene with my gimps, alone, and we shall return to the ship soon after."

He walked off.

I didn't watch. His ass was hanging out anyway, and besides, I had my own place to go. Sure, I was the supreme admiral of the invading and now-occupying force of a city that was still technically at siege, but I needed my time off, too. It had been a while since I had been here, and I wanted to reminisce like the others.

So I headed out.

I walked down the familiar streets, mostly unchanged from my last visit as a lowly garbage can and even from my paladin years. The buildings were mostly the same. Some businesses had changed hands or names, the shops repainted, some places torn down and rebuilt, but for the most part, it was the same Lambston as ever.

I went down deserted shopping districts. I passed the very same apothecary that I broke into after leaving the rebels' hideout. I continued on down the sidewalks and past the residential blocks, and I soon found the old apartment complex.

The entire building had been condemned, and the door to Jenna and Thomas's hideout was unlocked. I let myself in, and I found just an empty room--bits of dust floating past that one line of sunlight that fell through the window, coating the bare brick walls and leaving thick layers on the hardwood floors.

It smelled the same here. Minus the part where that one guy shit in my mouth.

Poor Thomas. He never had a chance. I felt guilty about it even then, but there wasn't even a need to. There was no hope to save Thomas and his father at the execution. I was no more a hero then than I was now.

I took in a deep smell of the place and headed out. This was not the place I wanted to go.

I stepped outside, past the place where I had supposedly killed Jessie when she was in recycler form, and I walked down the sidewalk another two blocks until I found it.

Tom's Fat Weiners.

This was it. This was the place that started it all. And it didn't even look any different. Same old sign. Same tables. Same types of patrons sitting there eating wieners and fries as if a war didn't just happen.

Some glanced my way--I was a Trash Knight with a billowing cape and dressed in an admiral's uniform, after all--but none seemed too concerned.

I stepped over to the garbage can nearby. Just a simple one. Not a recycler. And I dug my hand in and found it. A used napkin with mustard stains.

I gave it a good whiff--ah, yeah, this takes me back--and after looking around to make sure nobody was watching, I pushed it into my mouth.

The taste was sublime. Those mustard notes with a hint of ketchup, all across a canvas of dirty napkin paper--a perfect texture. And, oh my god, bits of chili sauce on this one? It just melted in my mouth. Literally. I was recycling it. I leaned back and moaned a dainty little moan, not even caring if anyone nearby watched the Trash Knight Supreme Admiral have an orgasm at the taste of dirty napkin paper.

"Well, howdy there, lil' feller."

I jerked back and looked. It was a chubby guy with a beer belly and a bushy mustache. No way. It was Tom. The Tom. He stared at me with curious yet patient eyes.

I gulped down my mouthful. "Hi," I said. "Have we, uh, met?"

He looked up at me with a fatherly expression and a warm smile. "O' course, we met, lil guy." He chuckled softly. "Well, I'm th' one who nursed ya back to health."

"What."

"That I did. I found ya in a back alley, bruised and broken all those years ago--you were just a tiny thing then, poor lil feller--and I took you home an' gave you a place to sleep, a roof over yer head, and even wrapped you up in a blanket and bottle-fed you until you were as big and strong of a recycler as yer brothers."

"W-what?"

He smiled at me as a proud father would. "I know that's you in there, and I wouldn't forget one of my own. Once you had yer strength back, I set you right outside, right here," he nodded, "and boy was I proud to find you missing one day." He wiped a tear. "All big an' growed up. A mature recycler goin' out into the world, livin' life out loud, as they say."

"You... really nursed me back to health?"

"Well, of course, lil feller." He hit me with a wink. "And whaddya say to a belly-full of my finest wieners, eh?"

I smiled back. "Yeah. I think I'd like that."