Daemonorg Prison-Lab: A Dark LitRPG / LitFPS SciFi-Shooter (Overtaken Online Book 1)
Page 21
Accompanying the smell of something burnt, a faint buzz reached my ears. I turned to the sound and saw a medium-sized cabinet on the wall with its door ajar. Lighting with the torch and using the tip of the gun to open it fully, the buzzing became louder, the burned smell clearer, and I realized it was a fuse box.
Two rows of small fuses all had the characteristic smell of being fried from high voltage overload. An almost comically large lever pointed down beside them. At the bottom, I saw two diagonal, empty slots. They were larger than the fuses above.
I holstered the gun and, just to have tried it, turned the lever to the upwards position.
“Shit!” I exclaimed as bluish sparks erupted from the broken fuses and bit into my hand like needles.
-3 HP
I shook my hand and scowled at the fuse box. Still, the urgent sense vibrating in my entire being pushed me to continue. If I could only find a solution, there’d be electricity in the system. With electricity, it would be easier to get the metal door open. I cursed the Bio-Drone Screamers. The energy clusters must have caused the power outage.
Hesitantly, I opened the fuse box door again, examined it closer. On the inside of the door itself, a diagram illustrated the setup:
Common Power : 2x2x6
— — X — —
— — X — —
— — X — —
— — X — —
— — X — —
— — X — —
Alternative Power : 1x1
—— X ——
Scribbled underneath the diagram with a black marker, it said:
CAUTION: Com. power OR alt. power. Never both!!
I studied the rows of fuses again. Okay, so either I find out which of the fuses have to be replaced – if not every single one – and then replace them, or it’s enough to simply find two alternative power fuses instead.
“Yeah… ‘simply’,” I whispered, smiled with half my mouth and turned back to the work desks with computers and what not. Moved the two chairs out of the way, kneeled by the desks and looked through every drawer and cupboard. Mostly journals, pens, pencils, stacks of papers and other uninteresting things. In the last drawer, however, I found a long flashlight reminiscent of a Maglite. It was fastened to a holster.
+1 Solid Flashlight (req. 1 Item Slot)
The LEDs provide a thick beam of bright, white light that might blind certain nocturnal creatures. Also, the Solid Flashlight’s sturdy design makes it an excellent melee weapon in close quarters combat.
+1 Flashlight Holster (+1 Flashlight-Item Slot & +3 Battery-Item Slots // Req. 2 Item Slots if unused)
Grants the ability to carry any type of handheld flashlight on your belt.
Jolly like a kid, I loosened my belt and slid the flashlight holster onto it. I had the pistol holster on my right hip, so placed the flashlight holster on my left side, next to the walkie-talkie. I also appreciated the extra batteries that were already present in the three battery-item slots, saving me the hassle of finding new ones when the flashlight’s power went out.
Then, without thinking twice, I stomped on the torch to extinguish the flame. It fizzed under my boot. Stuffed it back in the backpack and used the flashlight. Its heavy weight felt good. I definitely saw how this could be used as a weapon. The wide, rubbery button clicked smoothly when pressed, and a bright beam of ice-white light lit up a large circular area wherever I pointed it.
I remembered the fuses. I’d looked everywhere. Unclipping the walkie-talkie from my belt, I led it to my face, pressed the push-to-talk-button and was about to call for Frida… but stopped as an idea hit me. Turned back to the fuse box, stared at the two empty, diagonal slots and whispered: “Could it be…?”
I found one of the electro cores taken from the drone-heads, held it up in front of an empty alternative power slot to measure it.
The size matched perfectly.
Fully aware of the potential risk, I carefully inserted the electro core – pushed it in, one end first, then the other, like a battery. As soon as it was properly fastened, I swiftly withdrew my hand in case it zapped me. But nothing happened. I fetched the last one and inserted it.
Llllike a glove, I heard Ace Ventura say in my brain and pictured him slide perfectly into a tight parking spot.
“Okay, so now, let’s remove these,” I said and plucked out all the regular fuses. Even if they were blown, I didn’t know whether or not they still could cause trouble, so better safe than sorry.
When done, I curled my fingers around the lever, held my breath and turned it up, ready to jump out of the way by the slightest sign of electro-trouble.
The lever slid to the upwards position. I quickly removed my hand as the wiring inside the electro cores sparked blue. The sound of emerging electricity spread through the system and buzzed and crackled everywhere. My dry lips widened in a smile as the fixtures in the ceiling blinked on, the fans in the computers behind me began spinning and the monitors awakened from sleep.
Relieved and happy to see again, I switched off and holstered the flashlight. Turned to one of the computer monitors where a basic login screen presented itself.
USERNAME: admin
PASSWORD: ***********
I laughed at the auto-filled username and password. And who in their right mind used ‘admin’, anyway? Counting the number of letters in the password, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was something as stupid as ‘123password’. Either way, I didn’t have to figure it out, and simply clicked Login.
The computer fans spun harder as the yellowish gray machine, which looked like a 486 from the mid-90s, launched the operating system. A rudimentary desktop appeared. No start menu. Only a few floating folders and programs. I scratched my head. The daemonorgs had the ability to travel all over the universe in highly advanced spaceships, genetically splice living things and machines, but used computers like this?
“Ridiculous,” I said, grinned and clicked on the file named GenTechLabSecurity.exe.
A new window popped up, showing what looked like a map. Judging by the stairs-symbol leading to a small room with a door straight ahead, and one to the left, leading into another small room named Control, I reckoned it was a map of this floor. The door to Control was green, while the door outside, which led to a huge room named Lab, was red. There didn’t seem to be any other rooms inside the Lab – or perhaps they weren’t marked.
I pointed the mouse over the red door and clicked.
DOOR LOCKED
UNLOCK?
[YES] [NO]
“Are you serious?” I said and laughed out loud. “Hellz yeah!”
I chose YES.
Through the room’s open door, I heard a loud beep followed by a click and some rattling, as if from a locking mechanism being opened.
I equipped the handgun, stepped out of the control room and watched the previous red light on the door frame now shine a beautiful green.
“I can’t believe it was this easy,” I said, but had to remind myself this only happened because I’d already killed a bunch of hardcore guards and three crazy drone-heads. Oh, and I fixed the fuses, of course.
I’ve earned this.
I readied the gun with one hand, turned the doorknob with the other. Opened the door and peeked inside.
The smell of antiseptic and rotten flesh struck my nose as I gaped at the gut-wrenching sight that lay before me.
27
Along the walls of the clinically white, well-lit laboratory, I saw glass tubes. Glass tubes everywhere. In all sizes, from tiny like thermoses to large like grown men or even bigger. Filled with alcohol and…
I almost gagged.
Preserved in the alcohol were creatures. More or less human, in all stages of development – grown, child or newborn. Some looked more like hairless beasts with a few humanoid features, others weren’t even complete bodies, merely selected parts of bodies – like just torsos, legs, arms, groins, fingers, eyes – anything at all. Skin colors ranging from corpse white, thro
ugh rotten green, frozen blue to puke pink and stale brown.
I did not want to enter, but the sense drew me in like a housefly to a pile of fresh shit. On shaking legs I forced my feet onward, forward, inward – toward the aluminum operating stations lining the middle of the area. Some clean, unused, others bloodstained, dirty. Placed in boxes and stands around the operating tables stood equipment reminding me more of medieval torture instruments than modern medical tools. Beside each table were wastebaskets, and I realized where the rotten stench came from. Chopped off, organic material lay fuming.
I cupped a hand over my mouth and nose, and stared wide-eyed around, knowing this was Ayamii’s birthplace. And all others like him. And the drone-heads, and, I suspected, most of the daemonorg population.
Dried blood that had spilled from an overturned bucket beside a table caught my attention. Messy, red tracks stretched from the bucket across the white floor and past four man-sized glass tubes.
“Fuuuck,” I whispered through gritted teeth as the sense grew stronger when I traced the tracks with my eyes. The hairless, morbid humanoid creatures in the tubes loomed over me as I sneaked past and avoided looking straight at them. Bubbles generated by some engine inside foamed along the top of the capsules.
I breathed slowly, deeply, and prayed to the imaginary OVERTAKEN ONLINE god – this time begging that the tube creatures wouldn’t suddenly awaken, break out and devour me like a midnight snack.
Goosebumps prickled my spine when I entered the next section of the laboratory. The smeared blood tracks led to a tiled corner with showers. The entire floor was a large shower drain drenched in blood. On top lay severed pieces of unknown body parts.
“Jesus…” I whispered, feeling my stomach revolt. The half-wet, half-dry substance both squished and scrunched under my boot soles as I walked on it.
The very next second, I spun around and faced the glass tubes.
Something moved – I’m sure of it, I thought, holstered the handgun and equipped the Rap-Attack instead. Heart rate increasing, my breath became shallow. Gripping the assault rifle tightly, I moved closer to the capsule, stared at the seemingly lifeless humanoid inside until my eyes itched from strain. I aimed the weapon at its deformed head, bubbles swirled by it, and said under my breath: “Move again. I dare you.”
After about fifteen seconds, I lowered the rifle. Still not convinced, but I had to get moving. Something or someone urgently needed my help around here somewhere.
A loud crack stung all the way into my soul as I turned toward the bloodstained shower. Glass smashed on the floor, liquids poured out and a hoarse growl echoed through the laboratory.
Scared, but mostly fed up at this point, I shook my head and jumped behind the nearest operating station. The bizarrely looking humanoid broke free from the glass capsule, fell clumsily on the floor and splashed in the pouring alcohol. Its lipless mouth barred uneven teeth, an abnormally long tongue stuck out like a breathing snake. Glass shards cut its deformed limbs as it tried to get up.
Behind it, another glass capsule cracked. Somehow the freak inside must have been awakened from the commotion, or maybe they shared some kind of mental bond. It, too, tumbled to the floor and yelped as sharp pieces of glass tore open its skin, washing it with alcohol.
I wasn’t even scared anymore. Seeing how they struggled, how meaninglessly useless and ugly they were, I fed them a stream of merciful bullets.
Killed 2 Daemonorg Failed Mutants – Level 1
+20 XP
No more notifications until I’m out of this freaky lab, I intended, and wondered how many people and creatures the daemonorgs plowed through before they found a viable genetic mix. How many wasted souls, or ‘failed mutants’, were needed to create even one successful specimen? A heaviness caught my body as sadness dawned. It was only a game but touched on fundamental ethical dilemmas – and seeing it up close and personal like this made it even more real.
I unclipped the radio from the belt, lifted it and said : “Oh, so soon?”
“Okay, uhm, I’m in a… creepy fuckin’ lab,” I said in a low voice, while looking at the dead freaks soaked in alcohol solution. “Lots of medical equipment and stuff. Genetic mishaps arranged in glass capsules like trophies, blood and guts everywhere. Some of them even woke up and broke out. It’s all just… shit.”
“Enter the, uh, middle door in the row of doors on the long wall in the lobby,” I said and fully knew of how stupid it sounded.
“Great. I found a hatch in the floor in the back of that lab, or whatever it is. I’m down–” My sentence stopped by glass crackling. Tubes shattered. Liquids spilled out of the widening cracks. Ill-shaped humanoids came alive all around me. My sadness immediately became fear as I realized they wouldn’t all have trouble chasing me. Some easily stepped out of the capsules on long, muscly legs, while others, eel-like, slid through the cracks and swam in the now built-up alcohol pools.
“Just get down here,” I shouted to Frida, clipped the radio to my belt in the same motion I leveled the Rap-Attack and fired. Bullets cut through the air, dug into deformed flesh, bursting glass and breaking metal.
“Gaaarrhh!” roared the biggest one yet as it tore the entire top part of its glass tube right off. Cables connecting it to the ceiling snapped loose. Not even noticing its hands bleeding from the shards, it caught me with its soulless eyes, before throwing the capsule top at me like a deadly frisbee.
I bounced out of its trajectory just as it swooshed past and collided with another misshapen humanoid, severing it in two. Behind the body parts splashing in the alcohol on the floor, I saw three of the eel-like creatures swim toward me. I simultaneously blasted a walking monstrosity and kicked over an operating table. It crashed on top of the severed humanoid, providing temporary cover from the eels. Good thing they weren’t electric, or this whole place would ignite.
Wait a minute, I thought, crawled backwards away from the deformed mob, and aimed for a possible spot to hide in a closure beside the shower area. That’s it!
I climbed to my feet, jumped out of the way when another piece of glass capsule came flying. It smashed against the bloodstained shower tiles. I grunted at the feel of glass pieces that ricocheted and pierced my skin.
-5 Armor
-3 HP
My beloved armor chest plate finally gave up and crumbled to nothing. I swung the Rap-Attack over my shoulder and equipped the Celestial pistol. As more and more tubes cracked, releasing more freaks, more alcohol spilled, filling the floor even more!
Time ran out. I couldn’t wait for Frida and Ayamii to help me.
I aimed at the biggest one, dripping wet and in the process of tearing off the bottom part of its glass tube – no doubt to throw it at me. “It works or not,” I said and pulled the trigger. The cloaker gun crackled and released an electric jolt that zapped through the air.
The big one growled in pain as the electricity mixed with its alcohol-drenched skin. Sparks flashed. Flames erupted. In a split second the fire consumed it, before promptly spreading across every inch of the floor and every moving, slithering, creeping creature covered in the flammable liquid. The choir of screams and growls swiftly subsided, leaving only the crackle of burning materials and flickering flames.
Heatwaves surged through the lab, almost burning my face from the heat alone. Black smoke billowed from every surface, curled like thunderous clouds underneath the ceiling, growing bigger.
Running, I holstered the Celestial pistol and equipped the Rap-Attack. Rounded the corner and leaped into the closure behind the shower area. I stopped stiff, fear exploded in my guts as I nea
rly tripped into a four meter in diameter large hole in the floor. Regained my balance and backed away from it.
Looking down, only blackness could be seen. Rotten stench oozed up from it, carried by a cool breeze. What looked like shopping carts stood parked on the edge around. Bloody. Some with dead humanoids still in them.
This is where they dump the mishaps. Guaranteed. Ayamii was once thrown down here and survived.
Black smoke curled around the corner like a silent assassin. I coughed until my lungs hurt. Again the realness of the experience caught me off guard when the snotty taste of phlegm spread in my mouth.
Kicking one of the carts over the hole’s edge, I passed the next corner and felt the sense of need become overwhelmingly strong.
As I entered the next section of the laboratory, I met the frightened eyes of a long-haired Japanese guy strapped in a high-tech medical chair. The right side of his face covered in intricate, symbolic tattoos. They continued down his throat and possibly even further, but were hidden by the paper thin, white hospital robe he wore. Mouth gagged. Wrists tied to the armrests. An iron hoop wrapped around his forehead chained him to a device behind. He sat in one of six glass cubicles lined along the wall. In the chair next to him, a woman hung motionless, only held up by the straps. Dead.
“Mmmh!” he said through the gag, fingers helplessly clawing at the armrests. His feet curled at the chair’s legs, but couldn’t move either, due to being tied.
“Holy shit,” I muttered, realizing this was the end of the lab. No exits existed. This was it. Cold sweat trickled down my spine as my pupils sped around searching for somewhere to escape.
“Mmmm-mmmh!” He wiggled his body so hard back and forth the bolts that kept the chair in place screeched. “Mmm!”
I watched my boots and saw smoke seep in between my feet. Coughing again, I shouldered the Rap-Attack and ran to him. Equipped the machete, ripped out his gag and said: “Either we both die, or we both make it. Deal?”