I turned around and saw three punks in, what else, black leather jackets, worn jeans, and shades. Names floated above their heads in neon blue: Trix – Level 3, Wixx – Level 1, and Jagger – Level 4.
I wanted to kick myself for walking into a trap, but at least I had my bat.
“Jagger, you’re a genius! This noob ain’t going nowhere!” said Wixx.
“Nowhere but the ground,” said Trix.
Jagger stayed silent as he slid a wicked hunting knife from its sheath at his belt. I could have almost sworn that the weapon was laughing. I couldn’t take my eyes off the black hilt and the gleaming silver blade. That weapon very well could be the one that cleaved my skull in two. I used my Weapon’s Lore skill on it.
Corporal Keel’s Hunting Knife.
This weapon is cursed, possessed, and the spirit within is certifiably insane! Whatever the stats say on this weapon, don’t believe them. The evil spirit trapped inside it can significantly alter its damage and effects. But given how unhinged this spirit is, nothing it does is close to rational. Do yourself a favor and get far, far away from this thing.
That was no help. I just wanted to know the weapon’s damage dice, not some kind of impassioned weapon warning. Of course I wanted to be far, far away from here. I didn’t need Weapon’s Lore to tell me that. I made myself a mental note to not bother using that skill anymore.
“If he fights like he walks, this won’t last long,” said Trix, her bleach blonde hair hacked unevenly at her jawline.
“He’s mine!” Wixx said, flashing a menacing smile at me, revealing a couple of missing teeth. He pulled a pocketknife, raised it, and dashed toward me.
It came as something of a relief that his knife didn’t have a spin cycle. I wanted Wixx to think I was unarmed, so I waited until the last second to pull out my
bat. Wixx looked positively ecstatic as he rushed headlong at me, until he saw the bat, and then it was too late for him to do much of anything other than lose some more teeth to my trusty slugger. His health dropped as fast as his teeth, which clattered against the sidewalk. I felt that same burning sensation on my temple again.
Trix took a step closer to Jagger. “Jagger! He killed Wixx!”
Jagger grunted in reply.
I looted Wixx’s switchblade. I didn’t have a game guide, but at least I had steel.
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Jagger had a buzz cut and a boxer’s flattened nose. A tattoo of the number 9 showed prominently on his right temple. I couldn’t fully hear him, but caught him mumbling oaths, swearing that he’d have my blood. He took a step forward and sliced the air with his hunting knife. I keyed on the serrations down its blade. With my back against an unseen barrier, I still had nowhere to go. And something told me I wouldn’t be one-shotting Jagger. I readied my bat, tightening my grip on the smooth handle. My one advantage was the reach of the bat.
Jagger was close enough now that I could hear him breathe. Just a couple more steps and he’d be within my strike zone. I released my death grip on the bat, turned it in my hands to feel the weight, and then gripped it tight again, and that’s when Jagger stopped still, consternation coming over his face as he looked harder at the bat.
“Where’d you get that?” said the big man.
“Some alley,” I lied. Mom gave it to me on my eighth birthday. It was my favorite thing in the world. Basically any happy memory I have is tied to my bat. Kane and I used to hit a ball around in the abandoned lot we called home, and at night when I was scared, I’d keep one hand on it for comfort.
“No, that!” he pointed to the switchblade still lodged in the barrel.
“He killed Brix and Grix too!” exclaimed Trix. “Make him suffer, Jaggy!”
“Oh yeah, he’s gonna suffer all right.” The veins on his neck strained. “You killed my whole gang! So, now I’m gonna kill your whole face!” And then he charged me like I’d just beaned him from the pitcher’s mound. I didn’t think Jagger was the sort of guy that would charge, but I didn’t put the moment to waste. I brought the bat back, thinking I’d really clobber this guy, but the bat sort of sunk into the barrier that had put me in this bad situation to begin with, killing my rhythm. I had to jump to the side to avoid Jagger.
Turns out he wasn’t cleared for Quadrant 7 either. Because he’d had so much momentum, he was still running but without moving. When it happened to me, it didn’t feel like I wasn’t moving. The barrier somehow let people move freely without letting them move forward. I don’t think Jagger knew he was running in place. I swung for his dome and heard a stomach turning crunching sound when I connected. A health bar popped up, showing Jagger’s health in the red. He wasn’t running anymore. He was sort of hung in the barrier. I got ready for another swing and then something collided with me from behind. I lost my hold on the bat and scraped up my hands on the pavement.
“Jag! Jag, are you okay?” Trix called out.
The big guy groaned as Trix helped him stand back up.
I popped back up from the ground, pulled the switchblade out of my inventory and buried the blade in Jagger’s big neck. Whatever health he had left bled right out. My temple felt like it was on fire again, and I heard fanfare play as confetti fell around me.
Booya! You levelled up! And all you had to do was kill some people! Celebrate your victory while you can because you’re still not an odds-on favorite to survive the starter quadrant.
Sorry to say, like the other -ixx boys you murdered, Wixx only had one skill, so you’re stuck with Pocket Knife. Consider waiting until your marks are out of diapers before killing them next time. But not all is lost! Jagger had a few abilities and given you refused your game guide’s help, I suggest you take Charge. Get it?
I really didn’t know what the system was jabbering on about and didn’t much care. But I had the option to “take Charge,” Yes/No, so I selected Yes and then insta-looted Jagger’s corpse without even looking to see what was in there. And then I turned my attention to Trix.
