He was a tall man in a crisp, tailored three-piece suit under a lab coat. Middle-aged with deep-set eyes and salt and pepper hair that gave him a roguish appearance. He cleared his throat and spoke, finally letting us in on what the hell was going on. He had a loud, clear voice that echoed in the quiet room, but he forgot his audience and began with a string of words that sounded either incredibly technical or completely made up.
He stopped speaking, mumbling a curse under his breath, and started over.
“Forgive me, I forgot who I was talking to. Welcome to the Ouroboros Project. I’m sure you’re all curious as to why you’re here,” he said, coming over to us. “I won’t bog you down with the details since you’d need to be a neuroscientist to grasp the full implications of the technology at hand. But to simplify things, we’ve broken new ground in virtual reality development, and we believe we’ve finally cracked the code to digital immortality.”
A round of gasps echoed through the room, mine included. So that’s what this is about. Saving the world, my ass. I didn’t agree with virtual reality, or so-called digital immortality. It was nothing but cowardice. Running away while the ghouls ravage the world topside.
Whatever, not my fucking problem anymore. I’ve got clean clothes and food. That’s probably the best I can hope for at this point.
The man droned on for a bit more, trying to wow us with his words about how they made the discovery, but I tuned him out. I didn’t care about any of it.
Sophia was next to me, wide-eyed at his speech, excitement building in her eyes. I smiled down at her, and she caught me looking at her because she tilted her head, smiled, and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.
When the man was done with his speech, he got straight to the point. “The reason why you’re here is quite simple. We need volunteers who are willing to have their minds scanned. We need copious amounts of data to help build realistic virtual worlds, and we can’t do it without your help.”
I could tell from the tone in the man’s voice that it was nothing but fluff and bullshit. He was asking us, but it was clear that we didn’t have a choice in the matter. I shifted to look at the door we’d entered. A keyless lock kept us from leaving, and the man carried a pistol under his lab coat. The others are too wrapped up in the daydream he painted for them. They’ve been given a modicum of hope, and they’re clinging to it.
I didn’t trust any of them, but I had no choice but to go along with it. I wasn’t going to abandon Sophia and leave her alone. As the man finished speaking, he asked everyone who was willing to volunteer to step forward, and everyone but me stepped without a second’s hesitation. The man gave me a once over, his eyes staring at me unblinking till I relented and followed suit.
“Excellent. Then I will leave you all in the capable hands of the technicians,” he said as he departed, swiping a keycard to exit the room.
The technicians led us over to each of the tanks and started hooking us into them. The metal was cold against my skin, and it took them almost an hour to strap all of us in. They slid several needles into my arms and injected me with something that made me sleep and dream.
I dreamed deeply, but it wasn’t like any other dream I’d ever experienced before. It was too bright and colorful. I tasted things that lingered on the tip of my tongue, half-remembered sights, and smells of my childhood. It got increasingly vivid until I thought I was reliving my old life.
For a too-brief time, I got to see my family again, got to watch Micah grow up again, see his crooked teeth and caramel eyes wide as he begged me to play with him, repeatedly. It made whatever shady deal I’d struck worthwhile; I’d have done anything to stay like that forever.
I was jolted out of my dreams by intense pain. As if a rod of molten metal had been shoved into my skull. My eyes flew open, and I screamed till my voice tore. The pain dulled by a fraction as more painkillers entered my system.
When I could focus my eyes, outside the glass, a technician stared at me with wide and panicked eyes. He was mashing a button on the console next to him as hard as he could, tapping it like it would win him a prize, all while flooding my system with more drugs, which made my eyes heavy.
“What did you do?”
“Uh…uh, you weren’t supposed to wake up for that.”
“What—what did you do?” I repeated.
“We attached a neural transmitter to your brain stem. It’s to help ease the burden of information collected from the machine,” he stammered, still pressing the button to pump sedatives into me.
My eyes grew too heavy to hold open any longer, and I fell into a deep sleep from which I did not dream.
I awoke slowly, incredibly groggy, and my throat was dry as the desert. The glass enclosure opened with a hiss, and I tasted fresh air. It was sweet but did little to soothe my parched mouth. The technician watching me lifted a bottle of water to my lips, and I sipped fresh water until it was empty, and I could speak again.
The man threw the bottle in the trash and helped me out of the tube. Itchy dulled pain followed as the IV and other needles were unplugged, and then it intensified as they removed the catheter. I cursed them and tried to stand on my own, humiliated by their carrying me, but I took one step and sprawled to the ground, my muscles unresponsive.
Two attendants helped me into a nearby wheelchair, and I glared daggers at them. They wheeled me out of the room. Before we left, I turned and looked at the rows of tubes. Several of them were empty, but Sophia was still in there, sleeping peacefully.
“Where are you taking me?”
The female technician leaned down and smiled at me. “To get some food and water, as well as speak to the director. He’s anxious to make your acquaintance.”
I wanted to argue, but I was tired, and the prospect of more water shut me up. I was escorted to a room much further down. It was similar to the one that housed the Ouroboros Project. The same white tile. There was a stainless-steel table bolted to the floor and a single chair of the same material, the only other thing in there except for a showerhead on the far wall and a drain in the center.
The male technician stood by the door while the female wheeled me to the table. A pitcher of water and two glasses lay on the table along with a bowl of tomato soup, the reddish liquid steaming delectably. My stomach rumbled, but I was too tired to eat. I leaned over to pick up the pitcher of water but was too weak to lift it.
“Here, let me.”
The voice startled me, and I almost knocked over the water. I looked up to see the man who had told us about the project, the director, but on second glance, it wasn’t the same man. They looked incredibly similar, but this man had more gray in his hair and beard, more lines under his eyes. Maybe his older brother?
He poured me a glass and helped me to drink. When I’d drained it, he sat down opposite me and cleared his throat, motioning for me to eat, but I just stared at him, waiting.
He frowned when I refused. “Not hungry?”
I shook my head.
“Well, then, I’ll get to the point. I wanted to thank you for agreeing to join the program. With your help and the help of the others, I believe the project will be a success.”
I scoffed at him, to which he smirked. “A cynic. Well, you spent five years in that hellscape above, so I can sympathize, but you still have our thanks.”
His praise rang hollow in my ears. The look in his eyes also disturbed me, like I was something to be crushed underfoot—a worm, lowly and beneath contempt. He turned his head and spoke to one of the technicians who wheeled me in here.
”Did you deactivate his neural transmitter?" he asked.
The tech shook his head. "No, sir. You asked us to bring him to you, and we didn't want to waste time."
The director's eyes fell slightly. "I see. That's unfortunate." A hint of regret filled them, which quickly washed away.
He rose sharply in his seat, offering me his hand. I didn’t care for his words, or him. I wanted to leave, go back and check on Sophia. The sooner
we get this charade over with, the better. I managed to stumble up from the wheelchair, my legs trembling with the strain to grip his hand. It was rough with callouses, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around my wrist and squeezed hard. Too hard.
It hurt, and I pulled to no avail; his hand was like iron. Panic-stricken, I looked in his eyes; they held remorse, but it died as he steeled himself. He reached into his lab coat and withdrew his pistol, small in his hands.
At the sight of the gun, I tugged even harder on his hand, but I was too weak. I couldn't escape. So slow, he raised the pistol, and I stared down the barrel. “What are you doing?”
“The transmitter we placed in your skull is far too valuable to waste on a lab rat. I wish you’d just eaten the soup. This would have gone much smoother,” he said and pulled me towards him. “You'll remember this, I'm afraid."
I fell off balance to land on the table, soup spilling over to dribble onto the white floor and pour red down the drain. The director placed the cold metal against my temple.
"Enjoy your new life," he said and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 4 - The Gloam
I bolted upright, stifling the scream that caught in my throat; gasping for air as I tried to calm my racing heart. For a long moment, I took several deep breaths until my heart quit hammering. At some point during the night, my hair had fallen in my face, and I brushed it back to discover it slick with sweat.
“Godsdamnit, just what I needed to relive,” I said as I stood up.
I must’ve passed out as I was on the floor, my empty decanter next to me on the stone. I picked it up and set it on the nightstand as the wind whispered outside, blowing a soft breeze along with morning birdsong. It was warming up outside, but that didn’t quell the chill that had settled into my bones from the cold stone floor I’d used as a bed.
I grabbed the spare bottle I kept under the bed and refilled my decanter, trying to decide if I wanted to keep drinking. It was the only thing that banished my ghosts.
Losing Alistair brought up too many old wounds. I've lost so much, yet I still keep losing the people closest to me. Regardless if he would return to us, I was still angry and guilty as hell. It was my fault he was killed. He walked into the trap on his own, but I was the reason we faced down that dragon.
Was it worth it? I pulled up my character page in my Interface to look at my spoils of war.
Character Name: Durandahl
Level: 100
Race: Human
Class: Blade Master
Reputation: Wanted Criminal
Bounty: 300 Gold
Stats (-)
Strength: 100
Strength Sub-Stats: 100
Constitution: 50
Constitution Sub-Stats: 0
Endurance: 50
Endurance Sub-Stats: 100
Agility: 100
Agility Sub-Stats: 300
Wisdom: 25
Wisdom Sub-Stats: 0
Luck: 75
Luck Sub-Stats: 75
Charisma: 25
Charisma Sub-Stats: 0
Sub-Stat List [+]
So much gold and time spent on this. I’d put my wants ahead of the guild’s needs and spent too much hunting that bastard. Was my greed worth the price I forced upon the others? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
"Still, it was one hell of an adventure."
I’m too in my head right now. I need a distraction. My interface flicked to life in my eyes. The clock read nine in the morning. There shouldn’t be anyone in the training room, and I’d developed a sudden need to stab something.
My walk to the training room was uneventful, only interrupted by a handful of maids and guards patrolling. I pushed open the oak door and went inside. Someone was already here, one of the twins. Evelyn. She was currently working her way through her kata on the sparsely padded mats that covered the floor.
“Good morning, Evelyn. Odd to see you here at this hour.”
Her gaze turned my way for a moment, her golden eyes positively glowing. “Ah, hello, dear guild leader. Adam was making too much racket with his toys, so I needed some quiet. You?”
“Felt like punching something.”
She nodded and returned to her practice. My hand-to-hand combat was rusty; there’d been a hint of awkwardness when I fought the pirates. So, I decided to drill the basic techniques to warm up. A few minutes in, Evelyn’s voice startled me.
“Keep your left hand up. Also, your footwork slipped several times.”
Evelyn had stopped training to watch my form. I nodded to her and fixed my deficiencies. “Thanks.”
We slipped back into silence until Evelyn had finished her forms, and I’d warmed myself up nicely.
“Care to spar?” she asked, her full lips rising to smirk at me.
“Sure, getting my ass handed to me sounds like fun.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Well, maybe if you weren’t so big and clumsy, you might be able to hit me.”
Her jibe didn’t faze me. “I’ve hit you before.”
“You’ve never beaten me, though,” she said with a devious glint in her eyes.
“Maybe today’s the day.”
We settled opposite each other. Evelyn tied back her silver hair and cinched the belt tight on her charcoal gi before she settled into her stance.
Evelyn was small and lean, her entire body sharp and deadly like a blade. Her cheekbones were high and tight on her face, not an ounce of unnecessary fat on her frame. She shifted her balance side to side, her movements quick and agile. We nodded to one another, and before I’d finished moving my head, she was on me.
A predictable move for her. She aimed a roundhouse kick at my side, which I countered by lowering my guard, catching her kick on my shoulder. Such a high kick put her off balance, allowing me to grab her. I flung her into the center of the mats and rushed to press my advantage.
She recovered from the throw quickly and already had her hands up as I reached her. I threw a combination of punches, trying to break her guard. She absorbed them easily, but her foot slipped on one of the mats, and Evelyn lowered her guard to balance. Pressing my luck, I landed a solid hook to the side of her face.
She rocked back from the force of the strike, shaking it off. Grinning, she spat blood on the mat and changed her stance, switching styles. Before I could blink, she rushed me with an open palm strike. Air whistled past my ear as I ducked, right into her next attack. She pivoted and brought her leg up. I couldn’t block it.
Agony rippled across my side along with a jarring crack as she broke two ribs. Before she could move, I cinched her leg to my side and lifted her off the ground. Using my other hand to grasp the collar of her gi, I slammed her onto the mats, knocking the breath from her. She gasped as I picked her up again.
Her legs locked around my waist as I picked her up. She arched her back, bending to plant her hands on the mat and used the momentum to throw me. My back slammed to the ground, doing my ribs no favors.
Evelyn slithered across my body to grip my throat, nearly suffocating me.
“I believe I am victorious.” She spoke with absolute confidence, and there was nothing I could do to remove her hand.
I nodded at her, and she lessened the grip on my throat. However, she did not pull away entirely. The second my windpipe opened, I gasped for air. “Damn, you got me good with that kick.”
Evelyn smiled at me, much in the way I imagine a cruel child who pulls the wings off a fly smiles as the fly tries to crawl away. I was the fly, and I wasn’t going anywhere.
“I know. However, you did manage to surprise me a little with that hold, and that right hook was as solid of a punch as you’re likely to ever land on me,” she said, still holding that smile that chilled me to the bone.
Her gi had come loose during the fight; the pale flesh of her shoulder and collarbone peeked out at me from within her clothes. She caught my eyes, and her smile twisted into one of lasciviousness. She pulled at her belt to let her top slide down he
r arms.
While not the first time I’d seen her body, I still marveled at the beauty of her curves. Her breasts, small and firm, pale nipples erect as she reveled in my gaze. She shimmied her hips into my groin, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “You gave just as good in that fight, dear guild leader. How about you give it to me even harder now?”
I shook my head. “I’m not nearly drunk enough to handle you right now.”
She leaned over to whisper in my ear. “We can always fix that, or you can just give in and take me here and now; you know you want to,” she said, sliding her hand towards my pants.
I shouldn’t. In the back of my mind, I knew where this led, but I wasn’t in the best state at the moment. I wasn’t in a good head space after reliving my past, and thinking about Sophia always tore at the fragmented remains of my soul. I needed some avenue of escape, and it presented itself as a hyper-sexual sociopath, staring down at me with bedroom eyes.
Evelyn leaned down to kiss me before biting at my lip and lowering her hands to the hem of my shirt. Honestly, I might have given in if she hadn’t pressed her hands on my chest as she removed my shirt and brushed against my ribs. The pain I’d been ignoring flared to life, and I fought back a scream.
“Son of a bitch.”
“What’s wrong?” Evelyn asked, her face displaying curiosity rather than concern for my wellbeing.
“Think you broke a couple of ribs,” I hissed.
A flash of understanding came over her. She rose in one fluid motion, sensing that playtime wouldn’t be happening. “You should drink a health potion and get some rest. We’ll pick this up another time,” she said.
She swiftly bent down and retrieved her gi, turning toward the door. She slid her tunic back on, tying in neatly back into place and walked over to the entrance of the room.
“Have a good day, guild leader,” she called, shutting the door behind her.
I just stared at the door for a moment in wonder at the situations I managed to get myself in. As beautiful as she is, I should know better than to keep getting involved with her. I’ve gotten used to her, so I forget how utterly terrifying she can be.
Hive Knight: A Dark Fantasy LitRPG (Trinity of the Hive Book 1) Page 5