Daemonorg Prison-Lab: A Dark LitRPG / LitFPS SciFi-Shooter (Overtaken Online Book 1)

by Ben Ormstad

  I exchanged looks with Frida. “The daemonorgs decorated this place?”

  “Sure.” She didn’t seem to think twice about any of it.

  “But,” I whispered, “it’s so… normal.”

  “Dex, their civilization has existed for millennia, and they’ve traveled far longer than any human on this planet. Is it really so strange to think they’re able to furnish a simple room?”

  “Well, after seeing the huge, braindead beast with the rocket launcher, and all the blabbering, stinking guards, I just haven’t considered it a possibility at all,” I said and looked around the cozy waiting room. Incredible. And kinda creepy as fuck.

  Frida smiled and snuck out of the elevator. She’d put away her machete, equipped the handgun and moved swiftly and graciously to the opposite side of the room. I felt safer with her able to kill at a distance. She crouched by a bench and signaled for me to come.

  I held the gun with both hands, leveled it straight ahead so it was easy to aim, and sneaked out of the elevator. Frida had checked the right side, so I slid along the other wall and inspected the hallway stretching out to the left.

  The floor was carpeted with a green-in-green pattern matching the green lampshades which continued down the hall’s right wall. On the left, an orange glow came in from a row of windows. Stone columns like miniature versions of those known from ancient Greece stood between each window, about a meter tall with potted plants on top. The warm light covered them and cast long shadows across the floor. At the far end of the hallway I made out another set of doors – one straight ahead and one on the right wall. Illuminated signs hung from the ceiling in front, but I didn’t understand the strange language.

  Light-footed, I stepped across the waiting room and crouched by a bench, vis-à-vis the elevator. Its doors glided shut and the number on the screen above immediately changed from 2 to 3. Whoever was waiting up there would have witnessed the prolonged stop here on the second floor.

  I looked at Frida. “Have you been here before?”

  She shook her head, lips pursed.

  “Okay, let’s move. Right now.”

  We walked down the hall toward the two doorways. The carpet felt like stepping on clouds under my thick boot soles. Framed paintings of pointy, dry mountains hung on the right wall, lit by more lamps in green shades. I turned my head toward the waves of warmth being emitted from the windows on the left wall. Oval and tilted on the side, framed by wooden panels.

  A spark of dread curled in my gut as I witnessed the outside for the first time, and realized what the source of the heat and orange glow was – in fact, it wasn’t an ‘outside’ at all. Rather, it looked like the inside of fucking Mordor! As if we’d never left the lava-bubbling, corpse-spider-filled area where I saved Frida and Darius. No sun, no sky, no open plains, no trees or plants, rivers, oceans. Nothing. Instead, what I saw were enormous, jagged walls of dark rock. Lava ran like waterfalls from ridges at different levels of the walls and plummeted hundreds of meters before splashing in an ocean of boiling fire at the bottom. Hence, the orange glow came from the burning lava itself.

  “This entire building complex is constructed underground,” I said. “Likely inside a volcanic mountain.”

  “I don’t understand,” Frida whispered, staring out into the vast cave-like space. “This doesn’t make sense. I entered the prison-lab through a backdoor on the first floor.” She went up close to a window and looked upwards. “Or so I thought… now I can’t even see the top. Something’s not right.”

  I pressed my face against the window. Warmth from the glass spread across my forehead as I followed the outside of the building with my eyes. Fifty meters or so further ahead, it seemed the building merged with the rock wall, probably continuing inside it. “Did the daemonorgs build this?”

  “I only know they didn’t construct the building I entered before they captured me,” she said, eyebrows in a tight knot between her eyes. “But that was a prison above ground created by the godmadrigans. The daemonorgs, on the other hand, raided and occupied it after killing everyone there – staff and prisoners alike.”

  “Maybe the godmadri–uhm – the humans – built this underground section in secret.”

  “Godmadrigans,” Frida corrected with her chin held high.

  “What?”

  “The natives on this planet are called godmadrigans. God. Madri. Gans.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” I snorted. “Long-ass, complicated fuckin’ name. Stupid decision by the game designers. Not gonna use it.”

  She didn’t give me a break: “You’ll get in trouble with the NPCs if you just call them ‘humans’. It’s disrespectful. There are even stories of players being killed by offended godmadrigans.”

  “Disrespectful? What in the actual fuck? Wait a minute,” I said, smiled and poked her shoulder. “You’re just making this up, right?”

  “Dex, I can’t make this up!” She stomped her boot on the floor. “The AI in here is so emotionally intelligent it has developed beyond–”

  I waved her off. “Yes, yes, they’re very smart. Whatever. I’ll keep it in mind when addressing NPCs directly.”

  Shocked, she twitched her head backwards as her eyes widened, then frowned deeply. “You’re rude.”

  “Listen, they’re just NPCs, okay?”

  “No,” she said and crossed her arms. “You’re rude to me, you asshole!”

  Her words stung a bit, but I laughed it off. “Chill, woman, we can talk all you want later. Right now we need to figure out where we are, and how to–”

  Ding!

  Behind us the elevator doors opened, unleashing a pack of armed guards. The sound of their boots thumped across the carpeted floor as they tactically positioned themselves among the benches and tables in the waiting room.

  Guns blasted. Bullets flew.

  -5 HP

  I grimaced at the stinging pain in my back. Swirled around and whipped my pistol in their general direction, slammed the trigger like the B-button when playing Xenoblade Chronicles 2. The gun trembled in my hand and spat deadly rain at them. Redness squirted on one of their tunics while another got hit in the shoulder and roared in pain.

  Beside me, Frida jumped behind a stone column with a potted plant on top. She shot a few rounds and ducked. An enemy returned fire and shattered the plant’s pot in a dozen pieces.

  Yet another bullet dug into my back.

  -7 HP

  While firing over my shoulder, I ran to the next column behind the one Frida crouched by. We weren’t too far from the doors with signs now. I squeezed the trigger again and felt the satisfying jolt vibrate through my arm. Blood spurted from another guard. He tumbled over another one already laying there. Frida dropped one more.

  “Smooth,” I said. “Three left.”

  “Oh, shut up,” she yelled back at me, holstered her gun and equipped the machete. She left the cover and ran toward the remaining enemies.

  Why leave a perfectly good shooting spot? I thought, but quickly stopped wondering when she dodged a slew of bullets by performing a forward roll. Threads of the carpet’s fabric ripped and blew like dust around her as she bounced from the floor and roundhouse-kicked the closest guard in the stomach. The force sent him staggering backwards, whereupon she swung the machete in a deadly, yet elegant circle, slicing two of the three remaining guards in one efficient swoop. Their chests burst with blood spattering around, adding an extra layer of red paint to the surrounding paintings on the walls. They gurgled and toppled over nearby benches.

  I was about to pop the last guard when he jumped at her, but she was inhumanely quick to notice his movements and swirled around, sending a well-placed boot into his nether regions, before ending his meaningless life with the machete planted deep between his eyes.

  In the ensuing silence, I heard her heavy breathing. Her blood-spattered chest heaved up and down underneath the open leather jacket, the machete-wielding hand shook slightly from the effort. She looked up at me, crystal blue eyes barely
visible through the long hair which hung unruly in front of her face. It wasn’t white anymore, but drenched in dripping redness. She hadn’t even taken any damage.

  The most beautiful mass-murderer I’d ever seen, she was.

  “Wow.” I shook my head, smiling. “You’re a fucking beast.”

  Without answering, she wiped her blade on a bench cushion and checked the bodies for stash.

  I reloaded my gun and accepted any notifications.

  Killed 3 Daemonorg Grunts – Level 2

  +60 XP

  A blue flash of light enveloped Frida’s body. It lasted for just a second or two. She stretched her arms and opened and closed her hands multiple times. “My Zen-Chi-Do Basics and Weapons abilities just increased by two percent each,” she said and grinned.

  “Sweetness,” I said. “Well deserved!”

  Her smile immediately disappeared, and she continued inspecting the bodies.

  “What?”

  No reply.

  I walked up to her. “Frida, what’s wrong?”

  “Don’t think you can treat me like a little kid and get away with it,” she said and handed me some stash. “This is your share.”

  +22 Ammo – Daemonorg Light Handgun

  +5 Consumables

  +78 Cash

  +33 Scrap

  I pocketed it, positioned myself in front of her. “So stop acting like a little kid, then. You know I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “You’re a grown man and should be more thoughtful.”

  “Yup, right you are,” I agreed, laughed and decided to drop the bullshit argument.

  Universal Abilities Increased!

  +1 Communication

  +1 Charisma

  LOL, what? I thought and wanted to laugh even harder. How the hell did I just increase those abilities? This was probably the worst time to tell her the game just rewarded my behavior, so I simply smirked and went to the elevator where the doors struggled to close. Every time they tried to seal shut they bumped into a dead body blocking the way.

  She followed me. “Hey, I’m not done talking.”

  “Fine,” I said and pointed to the body. “This is how we stop them from using the elevator. Help me stack more bodies here.”

  A few minutes later, eight dead daemonorg guards lay lumped together in the elevator’s doorway. A nice pile difficult to remove quickly. The doors kept bumping into them as the elevator was called from other places in the building.

  “I bet there are back-up stairways around here somewhere, but this will buy us some time.”

  Gun in hand, I lead the way through the hallway. Pieces of broken pots from the plants cracked under our feet as we passed the windows. Why even bother installing windows when rock and lava were the only things one could see? I pushed aside the mild claustrophobia and ignored the thoughts questioning how to get out of this place.

  “You know what I think?” I said before opening the first door to the right. “I think the daemonorgs created the underground section of the prison. That’s why no-one else knows about it.”

  Frida nodded. “Could be. Then they must have completed it in a hurry to get it done in such a short time.”

  “They probably needed it up and running as quickly as possible,” I said and kicked open the door, not giving a fuck about stealth anymore. I sensed something, but didn’t look into it. I had just checked my poison status, and with only two hours and fifty-three minutes left, my life-clock was racing to the bottom.

  The door swung open and smacked into the wall on the other side. Fluorescent light streamed from fixtures in the ceiling and lit up four daemonorgs in green coats hunched over a stack of papers. They sat around a circular table in the middle of the white room. Scared shitless, they jumped from their seats with hands held high above their heads. Their eyes were yellow like the guards’, but these actually had corneas. Red, but corneas nevertheless, which made them seem more human. Their skin was beige like the other daemonorgs we’d seen but not as rugged, and only two small horns stuck out from the sides of their foreheads. One, a woman, had shoulder length, red hair and a thicc womanly figure concealed by the loose lab coat. Eyes behind glasses, she looked intelligent. I’d hate to kill her.

  They all staggered backwards. Medical equipment clattered as they bumped into the shelves. Some tubes and tools fell and broke on the floor.

  I pointed the gun at them in order. One after the other they shrunk back. “There’s supposed to be a laboratory with an adjoining locker room here somewhere. Tell us where it is and you’ll live.”

  “Breg’luk tiff, thakk,” one of the guys said. The sweat pouring from his wrinkled forehead reflected the ceiling light. He glanced at a door in the back of the room.

  Next to me, Frida’s gun fired. The blast made my eardrums pop loudly.

  The guy spasmed, clutched his neck and lost his balance. The woman with the glasses tried to hold him up, but his weight increased too much when he died.

  “Speak English,” Frida said in a gravelly voice I hadn’t heard before. “Do you understand? English.”

  The man farthest to the left stretched his open palms out to us. “Sidker agg, dipz’ju lik!” Obviously begging for mercy, but Frida’s gun blasted again. His green coat snapped across his chest. More equipment and tools toppled over and fell to the floor as he gripped the shelf to stay on his legs. In the end, though, he went down.

  “I said: Speak English,” Frida repeated, pointed the weapon at the woman. “Understand?”

  The woman shrunk back and hid behind her own hands, the yellow eyes peeked through her fingers. She stayed close to the last guy alive, who protectively held his arms around her. I honestly felt bad for them. These were obviously not the same breed of daemonorgs as the guards or the huge beast.

  I put my hand on Frida’s weapon, pushed it until it pointed at the table and not the… people. “Let’s give them a second, okay?” I stepped forward in a non-confrontational manner. Pointed my weapon straight down and sidestepped the table to get closer. I talked slowly and pronounced each word in its entirety: “We are looking for a laboratory. There should be an adjacent room with lockers where, I guess, people can change clothes and store things. Do you understand anything I am saying?”

  Not even a smidgen of recognition flickered in their fearful eyes.

  I turned to Frida and shook my head. “Maybe we should–” was all I said before the guy jumped me. A lot heavier than he looked, he shoved me against the table and curled his long, cold fingers around my throat. I almost gagged, but managed to hook his legs with my foot and used the generated momentum to swing him around and smash him onto the table. It crumbled from the force, taking both of us to the floor. He elbowed me in the face and shouted something to the woman.

  -5 HP

  In the corner of my eye I saw her flee toward the door in the back. Equipment and glass on the shelves shattered right behind her as Frida’s bullets missed the target. Frida cursed, ran past me and chased the woman.

  I fumbled for my gun on the surrounding floor. Found it. Pointed at the rabid demon-guy and pulled the trigger. His head exploded in redness.

  Killed 1 Daemonorg Scientist – Level 1

  +10 XP

  I pushed him off me and got to my feet just in time to see Frida disappear through the backdoor.

  Upon entering the new room I found Frida on the floor with the woman in a chokehold, amid cabinets and shelves lined along the right wall. A single lightbulb connected to a cable swung from side to side in the ceiling, causing every shadow to twist and turn like in a house of horrors.

  “Give up,” Frida croaked in the woman’s ear. She held her body in place by pressing both feet down on her waist. The woman’s face changed color and seemed to swell as she struggled to breathe.

  The gun’s grip was slippery in my sweaty hands. Clutching it, I stepped around the two women and swiped my eyes around the room, trying to make out any potential dangers.

  The swinging lightbulb reflected be
ams of light across a wide window on the left wall. The adjacent room was dark. By squinting I saw murky silhouettes of computers and various machines. I moved closer to the window and the door next to it. My own reflection made it difficult to see anything else on the other side.

  I quickly turned my attention to a scratching sound from the innermost corner. Just above what looked like a filing cabinet, the swinging light reflected in two bulging, green eyes behind a ventilation grill on the wall.

  A creature wanted out. Or, rather, in.

  The woman’s suffocating gurgling on the floor behind me mixed with the smacking from the creature in the ventilation shaft. Keeping my gun fixed on the grill, I strafed past shelves stocked with glass jars, tubes and strange equipment. Remembering my ability to sense, I tried to send out inquisitive threads of mental energy toward the creature. It kept bumping against the ventilation grill, and I received no form of information. Just nothingness, like a vacuum in my mind. The swinging light reflected in its green eyes again, barely visible through the bars in the grill.

  When I got the grill perfectly in my line of sight and started squeezing the trigger, the creature spoke.

  23

  “D-don’t shoot me!”

  Completely taken aback, I let go of the trigger and cringed at the creature’s squeaky, raspy voice.

  “Come h-here. Please,” it continued. Its breath hissed.

  With every word I cringed harder and had to force myself to not cover my ears.

  “Plea-ease, come now.” Three long, purple-colored fingers came out between the bars in the ventilation grill and waved me over. “Do not be a-a-afraid.”