"Hey, hey you! Give me that, I saw it first! It’s mine, MINE!” The scavenger shouted, brandishing a jagged broken bottle as he lunged toward the frail old man.
Slash!
"Ghgr y... you…" The scavenger collapsed on the ground next to Herman. Clenching his bleeding throat with both hands and gurgling for air.
With a single decisive motion, Herman trust his makeshift knife into the scavenger’s heart, his body exploding in a cloud of pixels.
“Lvl 0 Human male killed 100 XP gained congratulations you have leveled up congratulations you have learned a new skill: Slash congratulations you have killed your first human congratulations you have earned an achievement congratu congrat coooongratuuuuullllltions!!!”
"Aaaaa make it stop, make it stop!" Herman helplessly shouted as a gajillion flashy popups covered the entirety of his vision, completely blinding and deafening him to the world. After a few moments the annoying messages vanished, no doubt back to the hell dimension whence they came from.
"Good job Slippy." Herman muttered, a hand clasping his forehead in relief. "That was… too much… Is it going to be like that every time I do something?"
Before Slippy could answer, the human’s face involuntarily grimaced. "A..AH…AHCHOOO!"
“Congratulations you have sneezed for the first time congratulations achievement earned: The sneezer + 5 % to…”
"AAaaa!" Herman snapped in frustration. This time though, he noticed a tiny digital representation of Slippy, brandishing a katana and jumping around his digital overlay, slicing each of the pop-ups in half, after which they vanished into pixelated oblivion.
"I… I am starting to understand what you meant before by this causing me heart attack. Hell, the scavenger scuffle didn't excite me as much as this UI nonsense." Herman said, one hand pressed against his rapidly beating heart.“
"See, I told you that the System has its quirks. It is still a beta version and far away from the full release." Slippy said, his digital avatar sheathing his katana and giving a respectful bow, then disappearing from Herman's digital overlay.
"I will try to limit the info as before, and let only the useful data through. With your permission of course."
"Yes, please do that.” Herman thankfully replied.
…
After a few minutes Slippy came back to consciousness, his task complete. He carefully observed what the human was doing, but the more Herman worked, the more confused Slippy became.
"Do we really need this junk? We should get out of here, before more bad people come for us." Slippy said as he heard angry shouts at the distance. His characteristic bravado now replaced with uncertainty and fear. The reality of the lawless wasteland slowly beginning to sink in.
"You are right Slippy, we can’t stay here long. But we need these parts. Our survival demands it!" Herman said with a grunt of effort as he pulled out a small gas cylinder from the wreckage. "Ok this should do it. let's get out of…"
"Hey! You killed my brother! Get him boys, kill the murderer! Get hiiim!!!"
___
"Tie this part to here, screw the bolts, and attach the display."
Click
"Hmm… Stupid. Forgot power supply. Ah there it is, add batteries, aaand done!" With that, the device was fully operational. It coming to life with its signature crackling and clicking noises. The sounds reverberated in the small crawl space Herman was currently hiding in.
"What is that supposed to be?" Slippy whispered.
"can't you tell? It is a Geiger counter. It will help us avoid the radiation."
"Ooh…" The paper slip muttered with understanding. "Should we care about that? We can just respawn, can’t we?" He then asked.
"Suffering the effects of radiation, then dying, only to repeat the cycle again and again isn’t something I am eager to experience. And to be honest I am not sure how will the rads affect you as well. Better to be safe." The man explained.
Next, Herman cautiously poked his head from his hidey-hole among the rubble. Carefully scanning his surrounding for the angry scavengers. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he began the dangerous trek toward Staple’s Inn.
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
___
On the way back, Herman scurried like a cockroach from cover to cover, hiding between the debris of the former settlement and cautiously looking around for survivors, then darting to the next cover and repeating the process again and again.
As he made his way, he spotted a slightly burned military backpack hiding near a charred metal skeleton of a hovercopter.
Grateful for the lucky find, he immediately equipped the precious treasure. The straps and weight fitting snugly on his shoulders and back, the familiar weight of the bag giving the man a sense of security and purpose.
During his old life he never went anywhere without a backpack. Without one he felt practically naked ever since he came to this world.
A backpack was an incredibly useful thing to have in the apocalypse. It could hold provisions, medicine, weapons or things for barter. It was an absolute must, and he was incredibly grateful for finding one in this utter mess. In any case, he had been admiring the feeling of the bag for far too long than socially acceptable, so he reluctantly pushed forward.
Checking once again with his rad counter, he carefully navigated around the more intense radiation zones, slowly but surely making his way towards the back of the line. Along the way he heard something strange. Cautiously approaching, he settled a good distance away and stood still. Looking at the phone booth embedded in the wall with interest.
Respawn booth.
Operational.
Door Locked.
The sign atop the booth read.
"Why do we wait?" Slippy whispered.
"I think I am starting to figure out why we haven’t seen more people around here." Herman muttered darkly.
"Maybe the other respawn booths are damaged or out of mana?" Slippy suggested.
A few seconds later the glowing vortex of pixels finally subsided, materializing a confused human. The booth armored glass door unlocked with a resounding click, allowing the person inside to exit. The person stumbled out and gaped at the post apocalyptic environment around him, completely shocked at the devastation and ignoring the loud barks of the gang surrounding him. They quickly held the door before it could close, then rushed the newly respawned person and proceeded to stab him with their makeshift shivs.
After the person was nothing more but a cloud of pixels, the gang tore the booth door out of its hinges and lodged it perpendicularly inside the booth, as well as shoving more random junk inside, making the sign quickly shift to “Offline”.
"That explains it…" Herman grimly muttered to himself.
"What? I don’t understand, why did they kill that guy, he didn’t even have any loot." Slippy questioned.
"They eliminate the competition. The fewer people there are, the faster the line will move. Quite smart actually."
"You approve?" The slip said with surprise.
"Nooo, of course I don’t approve. But still, it is a clever idea, although cruel. Come on, let's get out of here before they notice us."
___
After allot of time skulking around, Herman and Slippy finally reached their destination. Despite the devastation, the inn was still there. Its facade was charred and cracked just like the rest of the wall, however there didn’t seem to be any further damage.
Revitalized with a newfound hope, the old man neared the establishment and was just about to poke his head through the window…
"Pakawwk!"
A furious avian roar came out from the Inn’s interior, followed by a man being violently ejected through the remains of the door.
"Come on! Who’s next? I said, WHO IS NEXT!" A defiant female voice boomed.
Herman swiftly moved Slippy from his shirt to his pants pocket. Hopefully he will be safer there. Then, he stepped over the unconscious man and rushed inside the inn. He didn't know how Polya got in here, but she will need his help.
However instead of his human friend, he was presented with the familiar mechanoid form of Staple. The imposing 2 meter height of the bot towered above most of the humans facing her. Four thin metal fists were locked in a boxing stance, as well as four plump hens standing on each of her metal forearms, them puffing their feathers in a threatening manner.
"Just give us the chickens and nobody gets hurt!" Said the gigantic human form of Jimbo.
"Yeah, we need the food more than you do bitch!" Beth said, tightening her grip on the iron pipe and creeping along the side of the room in hopes of flanking the mechanoid.
"Give us the chickens! Fucking machine! Death to the machine abominations!" The chorus of voices belonging to the rest of the worker gang shouted at the defiant mechanoid inkeeper.
In a blink of an eye four identical kitchen knifes appeared in Staple’s hands. She swiftly changed her boxing stance to a new one, reminiscent of a spider about to pounce.
"I have been restraining myself so far. However, if any of you makes one more step in my direction, all bets are off!" Staple said with a steady murderous voice, the four plump chickens on her arms hissing like harpies in support.
"Jimbo!? What the hell is going on here?!"
The giant tilted his head to the side, not willing to let the murder bot out of his sight.
"Herman is that you? Hell man, I thought you died out there. Come here, help us get rid of the bot and then I will show you my grandma chicken soup recipe."
"Hisss!!!" The four chickens snarled in response.
"Everyone, let's calm down, this is madness. You all very well know who these chickens belong to. Do you think she will be happy when she finds out you ate her pets?"
"SHE, is not here! Stay out of this old geezer!" Beth snarled.
Jimbo looked uncertainly at the knifes the machine held, then at Herman.
"Come, let's sit down and talk this out. I have a few ideas of what we can do to survive here." Herman said as he sat down on a nearby table and unstrapped his backpack. "Here, the next meal is on me." The man said as he started pulling out random assortment of food stuffs, all scavenged from the ruins.
That promise of food finally tipped the balance.
"Stand down, everyone. Let’s hear our newest member out." Jimbo said, motioning for the gang to pull back.
Everyone circled the table, all except Beth, who gripped her iron pipe tightly, eyes staring daggers at the mechanoid.
"Beth, please… Trust me on this." Jimbo said with a pleading voice, finally causing the woman to stand down and join the rest of the humans by the table.
"Speak, old man!" The woman barked.
