Melee: Mexico: A LitRPG Adventure

by Wyatt Savage

  Silence followed. Jackie had finally pushed Simon into submission, at least somewhat. His insight into the Melee had been and would continue to be invaluable, but only on her terms, and that was exactly how she wanted it. Her HUD timer reflected that they had two hours and four minutes to reach Level 2 of the Melee. It was time to end their quest.

  19

  Impasse

  Jackie and Jorge struck off down one corridor after another, mindful of the other participants and monsters that were lurking nearby. They made their way through a network of hallways and anterooms, their tread echoing strangely off the dungeon walls. In some places the spaces were wide, large enough to accommodate three people standing shoulder-to-shoulder. In others, they were forced to pull themselves on their hands and knees. They circumvented tangles of beams and whole sections of dungeon walls that had been blasted apart in a firefight. Scorch marks streaked the ground along with blood, bile, and body parts. Jackie and Jorge traversed sections of the dungeon that dipped and dropping, picking their way past the remains of participants and monsters who’d gone down fighting.

  Beads of sweat stung Jackie’s eyes as she listened to the faraway roar of monsters meld with the anguished cries of participants. They were close to their destination. Eventually, the two reached the center of the sublevel maze, a circular space composed of the same panes of translucent material, complete with a raised dais. When they entered the sublevel mainframe, what they found surprised Jackie. She’d been expecting to confront some exotic beast straight out of an H.P. Lovecraft story. Maybe Cthulhu itself or some lesser monster, but that was not the case.

  Instead of a massively oversized beast that struck fear into the heart of would-be treasure hunters and participants, they spotted a thrumming crystal the size of a blender, positioned up on the dais. Luminescent green light pulsated from the crystal, casting out waves of sound that seemed to act as a highly advanced form of sonar. Jackie was struck by the notes, wondering whether they explained why her Metamaterial Shroud and Disruptor had been so effective, allowing her and Jorge to escape the clutches of the Flayers and Burrowers.

  Jackie had chosen her first Ragetags based on her calculation that the dungeon in the sky was composed of metamaterials, a construct whose structure was designed around stealth functions. An outside observer might have accused her of being lucky. It was more than that.

  She had based her decisions on what she understood about the mechanisms behind how a system of any kind truly worked. Rather than focusing on the surface-level and obvious traits that could be misleading, she had always looked deeper, searching for the true causes of any glitch.

  The floor rumbled, interrupting her thoughts and observation of the inner sanctum. A tremor shook them back and forth, and the clear walls rumbled as an ear-piercing and high-tone ring echoed. Whatever the luminescent green crystal was, it was fighting to stay alive and fending off the end of its journey.

  Out of the corner of her left eye, Jackie saw something move. Tentacles. Long, purplish feelers with suckered ends that were sliding across the floor on the other side of the room. Jackie reckoned the tentacles were being controlled, perhaps functioning as the crystal’s own Ragetag if such a thing was possible. The tentacles stopped and Jorge spotted them.

  “Shouldn’t we just destroy the thing, fulfilling our quest?” Jorge asked, pointing the barrel of his gun at the crystal.

  Jackie shook her head. “We need to be smart. This is our chance to gain an edge, to find out more about the Melee and Threshold.”

  “I’m not questioning you, but we accepted the quest. Don’t we have to fulfill it? As the voices say, ‘there are rules.’”

  “That’s a good question, and one I intend to uncover the answer to.”

  With wide eyes, Jackie knelt and crept along the floor, careful not to appear threatening to the luminescent and pulsating crystal structure. Upon closer inspection, she began to understand what had gone wrong and caused the sublevel to malfunction.

  “Simon,” she said via Mindspeak, “I need you to run a diagnostic, and I want to know the specifics of how this sublevel monster, or subordinate dungeon core, was damaged.”

  “That information is not available,” Simon replied. “Threshold has deemed the details surrounding the event that caused sublevel damage to one of its subordinate and captured cores as threatening and a potential means to attack its other subordinate cores.”

  “Tell me about Threshold then.”

  “That information is not available either, Jackie,” Simon replied.

  “Goddammit, talk to me,” Jackie replied, pissed. “I need to know how dungeon cores operate.”

  “Your inquiry is vague. Please be more specific.”

  Jackie remembered all the times she’d played games with Will and his friends. The characters, the plots, the mechanics. She wasn’t a gaming savant by any stretch of the imagination, but she knew enough to be dangerous.

  “Within the Melee, are they like role-playing games, where the core is a former human mind transplanted into a subroutine software program as a perfect replica of its biological personality and memories but completely inorganic upon transference?” she asked. “Does the subsequent core become a participant? Does the core collect other participants without killing them outright for the purpose of using them as tools or weapons?” She paused. Her final question was the most important one. In truth, she knew most of the answers Simon would give to her other inquiries. What she really wanted was to know something she could use to gain an advantage. Essentially, she’d buried the lede.

  Silence from Simon.

  “Did you hear me, Simon?”

  “Yes, Jackie.”

  “Can you answer?”

  “I am processing.”

  “Well, does a core, including subordinate cores, maintain both its advantages and disadvantages from its former biological nature? I’m not interested in whether it still has biological functions in the physical sense. I want to know if the programming, the mind-map, its brain patterns, are the same. I want to know if that’s the criteria for selecting formerly biological creatures—their advantages and disadvantages. Put in simple terms, is it possible, even on a microscopic level, for a core to be vulnerable to attacks aimed at its former makeup, primary DNA, or class? Or are those questions too vague?”

  “That was not vague at all, Jackie,” Simon said.

  “What’s the answer?”

  “As you have likely gathered by now, I have become a core of sorts. You could use this information against me.”

  “Why would I do such a thing?” she asked. “You assist me. As long as you continue to work for me, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “It goes against my nature and the intent of the Melee to answer your questions. I am putting my own existence at risk, and the likelihood of my journey coming to an end will increase exponentially if you possess such knowledge.”

  “Is your non-answer not an answer in and of itself?” Jackie asked, goading him.

  From what she knew of dungeon cores based on her gaming knowledge and Simon’s information, they were akin to artificial intelligence, but only as a distant cousin. It was clear, from what information she’d obtained thus far, that Threshold and the damaged crystal before her were biological in nature in their past lives, but had been transformed into data-based entities. They consisted of algorithms, programming modules, and subroutines, but only functioned properly if there was an organically developed mind at the center of it all to make sense of the data, in order to become a monster-like participant. She cursed, realizing what she should have seen earlier but glossed over. They were participants too. Simon had even said as much without meaning to. He was worried that his journey would come to its end. How had she not seen that?

  “What’s wrong?” Jorge asked.

  “Nothing.” Jackie smirked. “Nothing at all. I may have cracked the mystery.”

  “You know what damaged the crystal?”

  “I have a theo
ry, more or less. It’s not broken at all. It’s infected.”

  “Then I assume, since you are a doctor, you will know the best way to finish the job.”

  “I may not,” Jackie replied loudly, not for Jorge’s sake, but daring Threshold to reveal himself and show that he’d only offered the side quest because he was in danger.

  Simon queried Jackie for her attention. “May I ask a question of you before you enter into an unwise battle with an opponent that outmatches you in every way conceivable?”

  “Yes, Simon, you may.”

  “Why would you not end what you are capable of ending?

  “Because there are worse things than death,” Jackie answered, truly embracing her emergent nature. “There is failure. There is regret. There is lost opportunity. There is survivor’s guilt. We who live on, we who go on, we suffer as well. We lose all that we previously fought for. There are also worse things than death in a horrible way. Endless torture. Endless regret. Endless what ifs. Worst of all, the lack of an end.”

  “The Melee will repurpose you if you meet your journey’s end,” Simon said. “Your essence will be extracted and incorporated into a larger construct. You will be turned into the very thing you most dread.”

  A grin spread across her face. That was the moment she was waiting for—the slip of the tongue that Simon didn’t know better than not to say. The cores, at their most basic level, wanted to survive. They were driven to go on, and feared the end, which meant there was an end far worse than death. Threshold, Simon, and even the damaged luminescent green crystal had already experienced death, and they were still surviving in a sense. They feared something else far more. That was evident now. They feared punishment. The Melee had repurposed them, but if they failed in their new roles, the result would be worse than being transformed into a core. Like all life, in all its forms, the cycle would go on. The question and outcome that mattered most, however, was how it played out on an individual level and what that felt like in every sense.

  She had no idea what would happen to them if that were to occur, but she knew that they fought to keep it from taking place, meaning they had some idea of what was to come. And their clear-and-present fear was all she needed to win this round. Her lack of fear, her desperation and higher level of knowledge had finally given her the edge and advantage she required to take the next step.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she dared Threshold. “I’m waiting for you.”

  The tiny luminescent green orb vibrated, possibly out of fear that the big boss was on his way. The walls shimmered. The floor quaked. Jorge began breathing more heavily. The purplish tentacles turned dry and crumbled. The air grew still. Silence filled the sublevel. Threshold had arrived.

  “You overstep,” a brash and powerful voice boomed.

  “No kidding,” Jackie scoffed. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “You agreed to the side quest,” Threshold stated with authority. “Breaking the rules the Melee has laid out is detrimental to your health. You of all participants should know better.”

  “Maybe I should,” Jackie replied. “But what are you going to do about it?”

  Silence followed. They were at an impasse. Whoever attacked first would have the advantage, but would also open their vulnerabilities up to exploitation and a counterattack. The silence was deafening. Finally, breaking the gridlocked situation, Threshold cracked first. “What do you propose?”

  “I’ll fix the subordinate core instead of destroying it,” Jackie offered. “In return—”

  Threshold intruded on her words, thunderous and roaring, “How dare you! I am beyond your comprehension! I am practically invincible by comparison!”

  “Congratulations,” Jackie said flatly. “I’m very happy for you. Anything else, or would you mind if I finish what I was saying?” After several seconds passed without a response, she continued, “In return for fixing the subordinate core, I get to keep it, but it stays under my dominion, and you get to keep your vulnerability a secret.”

  “You do not know my vulnerability, woman. Your offer is worthless.”

  Jackie chuckled. “You just confirmed what I always knew. Go ahead. Try and destroy me now. I dare you. It won’t go the way you think it will.”

  “This will not go the way you think it will, if you continue to defy logic, greater power, and reason,” Threshold warned.

  Jackie allowed herself to smile. She’d worked him into a corner, and now he was making threats, which meant one thing and one thing only—that he was afraid. And fear was the greatest weakness of all. Any second now, her opponent would bring out his biggest guns and his most fearsome monsters, but she was counting on that. The final battle was at hand.

  20

  Dead Man’s Switch

  A seething rabble of tiny and numerous monsters writhed and screeched all along the walls, ground, and ceiling. So many monsters popped up on Jackie’s HUD that she couldn’t process every species. Some of the creatures were elongated and others were bloated. Some were twitching, hissing and dragging their clawed hands along the dungeon walls, while others simply stared at Jackie and Jorge, licking their lips. They were waiting to attack, waiting to devour the soft human flesh. Waiting for a command from Threshold.

  “You may be dangerous and deadly,” Jorge intoned, “but…su gente sabe trozar. His people…those monsters…they are killers too.”

  “I know,” Jackie replied. “But I’m not scared. I understand the Melee now. I was born to be part of it. I was meant to be here.”

  “But this is his turf,” Jorge warned. “The core of this dungeon controls the playing field.”

  “That is exactly why Threshold will sign his own death warrant if he goes through with this bluff,” Jackie smirked.

  “I do not understand, Senora.”

  “I don’t need you to. I simply need you to keep your promise to me, to follow without question and act on impulse without hesitation. Can you continue to do that, Jorge?”

  What she wasn’t saying was that she intended to sacrifice him if he didn’t follow through. He was worth more as chaff, fodder, and an extra twenty-five experience points than he was as an ally, unless he followed blindly. That was all she needed from him.

  “I will follow as long as you keep me alive, Jackie.”

  That was all she wanted to hear. She could set things in motion now. It was time to win.

  They moved forward and the monsters reacted, on edge, waiting for the command to attack and kill. Jackie reckoned that none of them had the ability to initiate combat. They weren’t in charge. They were at the beck and call of the entity in charge, Threshold. They seethed, snarled, and awaited the core’s command.

  “I see you’ve brought friends,” Jackie said, into the void, mocking Threshold. “Is the infection that bad? Not willing to fight me head-on? You need others to act on your behalf, I see. How sad. I was looking forward to a one-on-one.”

  “You would not last one second,” Threshold intoned.

  With his least-infected monster-underlings present and open to attacks, Threshold had made himself even more vulnerable without realizing it. What Jackie knew and he didn’t was that infections spread like wildfire. She knew this all too well after having dealt with an Ebola outbreak a few years ago. She’d even dealt with the Avian flu while assisting during med-school on a project analyzing the vulnerability of North American poultry. All she had to do was trick one of the underling monsters into direct contact with the sub-level dungeon core, then it would spread to the others that Threshold had been quarantining off.

  Maybe Threshold understood that the infection was dangerous, but whoever he or she (or perhaps it) was before becoming a dungeon in the sky, he most certainly did not have a medical background, or he would have known better than to expose himself any further. Jackie, on the other hand, differed from anyone Threshold had ever faced—she knew all too well that a virus could be used as a weapon. When she thought it over, she realized that pretty muc
h anything could be turned into a weapon given the right amount of knowledge and experience. It was as if she was made for the Melee and the Melee was made for her.

  “If it were a fair fight, you’d be right,” Jackie replied. “You’re a bully, if nothing else. But this isn’t going to be a fair fight. I dare you to strike first.”

  Nothing happened. “I want what you’ve promised,” Threshold said, instead of attacking. “You are required to fulfill your side quest and fix my sublevel core.”

  “And I will,” Jackie said. “But not in the way that you think. I’m going to infect your sublevel core with Roundworms,” she added, recognizing that she was no longer infected, but still possessed the plastic container full of Roundworms. She lowered her backpack and removed the container of worms. “And since you granted the side quest, you can’t do anything to stop that from happening. In fact, I’m already thinking about using the Roundworms on the sublevel core. There won’t be enough time for you stop it from taking root, and if you attempt to eliminate me, you should know that I’ve set the attack to happen, with or without me—a dead man’s switch. In case you’re not familiar, that means I’ve already set them to attack, but I’m holding them back. If you kill me, the Roundworms will be set free.”

  If a dungeon could gasp, Threshold would have. “You’ve tricked me. How could such a low-level creature of limited capacity have thought of such a thing?”

  “Underestimating one’s opponent is nothing new, Threshold,” Jackie replied. “You’re not special. You just happened to invite the wrong participant into your domain. If you think the current infection in your sublevel core is bad, wait until you see what an artificial copy of Roundworms will do to the rest of your systems. I almost wish I could just go ahead and let it happen so I could see the beauty of it.”

  “It’s not possible. Roundworms are biological in nature. My structure is entirely software-based and inorganic.”