Apocalypse: Generic System

by Macronomicon

  “I’m not –“

  She choked off her words at Jeb’s raised brows, seemingly struggling internally. She had been mean to him, and it was more than she could rationalize to deny that. Jeb understood the mindset, though. She felt like he’d been mean to her, and had to defend herself…somehow.

  Probably projecting someone else onto me.

  “We’re from Tennessee!” Mike said helpfully, causing Casey’s cheeks to redden.

  “How do you even – “ she said, glancing at her summoned angel.

  “Tennessee! I’ve never been. What’s it like?”

  “It sucks. Everyone there is garbage.”

  “Now, don’t label a whole state as garbage because of your shitty parents.”

  Casey stared at him, jaw gaping.

  “How did you know?” Mike asked, frowning.

  “I’m not dumb,” Jeb tossed her words back at her with what he hoped was a gentle smile. “You didn’t know the first thing about contractions. I saw the scars on your arm. You were hiding your accent. All that implies you probably ran away, and your parents were either absent or actively denying you critical support. Either one is inexcusable.”

  “So what?” Casey said, crossing her arms.

  “So who are you pissed at, that I remind you of?” Jeb asked.

  “…My dad.” She said reluctantly.

  “Ah. Well, nice talk.”

  “That was it?” she asked, frowning.

  “Yep.”

  I should probably shave so I don’t come across as an old man, Jeb thought, rubbing his fuzzy chin as he stood. Now that Casey was aware of the emotional transference, she would sort it out on her own. He didn’t have to hammer it in. Could do more harm than good.

  “Jeb, what are you doing over here?” Smartass said, landing on his head.

  Casey followed the fairy’s movements with her eyes, causing Smartass to gasp.

  “She’s looking at me!” Smartass said, tapping Jeb excitedly on the skull

  “I can hear you.”

  “Excellent!” Smartass said, jumping off Jeb’s skull and flitting down to land on baby Casey.

  “Listen up woman!” Smartass said, posturing. “I am the reason your child breathes air, and by ancient compact she now belongs to me, her fairy godmother! Take care of her for now, because sometime in the future, I will – ACK!”

  Mike tackled Smartass off of baby Casey, holding the fairy by the neck at arm’s length, sword giving off an energy Jeb could feel from his seat.

  “You will not touch a hair on her head!” Mike shouted, spit flying into Smartass’s face, flaming sword poised for the kill

  Casey clutched her baby closer, her face pale.

  “Help me,” Smartass croaked, looking pitifully at Jeb with bulging eyes.

  “You got yourself into this.” Jeb shrugged.

  “And shepherds we shall be,” Mike said, staring death down at the little fairy.

  “For Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand. That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee. And teeming with souls shall it ever be.

  “In Nomine Patris, et Fili, et Spiritu – “

  “I made it up! I’m sorry!” Smartass said, squirming in the angel’s grasp.

  Mike stopped and glanced up at Jeb with a questioning look.

  “In my experience, fairies basically make the rules up as they go. It’s only enforceable if you agree to it,” Jeb said.

  Mike tossed the fairy away.

  “Get thee away from my charge, pagan spirit.”

  This place isn’t big enough for two tiny shoulder-sitting people.

  Smartass stuck out his – her? – tongue and flew back up to Jeb’s hair.

  “Smartass, are you a girl?”

  “Duh. Can’t you tell?”

  No, I can’t.

  Casey watched the entire exchange with horror, her body slowly relaxing now that the tension was passed.

  “Casey,” Jeb said, sitting back down. “There’s something I forgot to talk to you about, this little incident brought it to my attention.”

  “Little!?” Smartass said, pulling on his hair.

  “What?”

  Jeb pointed at Mike. “That is not an angel.”

  “Excuse me!?” Mike said, motioning to himself. “I am one hundred percent angel, leader of god’s armies, prince of the heavenly host.”

  “Let’s try Occam’s razor.” Jeb said. “Do you think it’s more likely that not only does God exist, he saw fit to send an archangel to watch over you specifically? Or do you think it’s possible that your Myst simply took the shape of an angel, based on what you think one would be like?”

  “Ummm.”

  “Mike is your Tyler Durden.” Jeb said. “He’s friendly when you want to be friendly, he said the things you wanted to say to me, he did what you wanted done to the fairy trying to steal your baby.”

  “I don’t know who Tyler Durden is.” Casey said, shaking her head.

  Jeb sighed.

  “The prayer he was quoting was from Boondock Saints.” Jeb said. “You ever seen that movie? I’ll bet you have.”

  Casey blanched, her gaze turning vacant.

  “The point is, since he’s your creation, you should be able to control him. I’m telling you this so when your Myst Core is a lot bigger, he doesn’t cut someone in half in a fit of pique.”

  “Hah! That’s where you’re wrong!” Mike said, scratching the top of his head. “I’ve been around since the dawn of creation –“ he started jumping on one foot. “And I would know if –“

  He started patting his head and rubbing his tummy at the same time.

  “What in the heavenly host is going on!?” Mike demanded.

  “I see,” Casey said, letting out a pained breath before glancing at Jeb. “Thank you.”

  “Better to be aware of it,” Jeb said with a shrug.

  ***Days Later***

  Amanda Courvar

  Celebrant of Sabrin, level 28

  Bret Courvar

  Soldier, level 31

  Jessica Stile

  Assassin, level 34

  Jebediah Trapper

  Mystic Trapsmith, level 36

  Ron Spencer

  Mystic Taxidermist, Level 40

  I think we’re ready, Jeb thought, going over the party composition as they stood in front of the dungeon leading deeper into the evil flaming mountain.

  He felt like a bug standing on the tip of someone’s nose.

  Despite her fairly decent stats and level, they’d unanimously decided to leave Casey behind, since none of them were particularly interested in being responsible for orphaning the baby.

  There was, perhaps, also an unspoken agreement that an unpredictable teen incapable of accurately weighing risk could do more harm than good. Jeb wasn’t sure, because it was unspoken.

  They weren’t leaving Casey entirely defenseless, however.

  Jeb had made her several mannequins out of wood with metal blades sticking out of their hands. Casey was able to bring these simple golems to life to provide her with meat-shields in case she was attacked. He also created a more advanced squirt gun for her. He’d taken the magical metal that composed the tip of the Penetrator and used that to make the nozzle of the water laser. The body of the water gun itself was nearly a hundred pounds to help the young girl deal with the recoil.

  Thankfully, Casey’s inhuman Body made carrying it possible, if a little awkward.

  With those defenses in place, they felt comfortable leaving the young woman by herself for the majority of the day while they dipped their toes in the Grave of the Titan.

  Jeb stood in front of the massive entrance, breathing in the faint scent of sulfur from deeper inside.

  It smelled like ass.

  “Ron, if you wouldn’t mind?” Jeb said, getting out of the way.

  “You heard ‘em boys.” Ron said to his host of zombies.

  As one, the hundreds o
f zombies with Ron lurched forward and began tearing down the hallway, with specific instructions to spread out and murder the shit out of anything that wasn’t human.

  “Let’s give them…a five minute headstart,” Jeb said, leaning against the stone door.

  Nobody ever said they had to fight fair against the dungeon. If the zombies could trigger any traps and kill or weaken the inhabitants, then why not?

  Jeb wasn’t going to begrudge Ron the extra levels. It was a simple matter of Ron being able to delegate more effectively.

  All of the people here could beat Ron in a fight, anyway.

  After chatting for the equivalent of a couple smoke breaks, Jeb nodded to the two Courvars.

  Both of them were wearing heavy armor, heavy weapons, and looked ready to throw down. They entered the dungeon, followed by Jeb and Ron, flanked by Jessica with a bow and the Death knight.

  Jess being the most mobile and with the highest Nerve, was more than able to both watch their backs and step in if necessary. The Death Knight was the last line of defense, responsible for keeping their exit clear and staying behind to buy them time if necessary.

  Ron and Jeb were the squishies, so they were safely ensconced between Jess and the heavies.

  Standard formation, according to Ron.

  You have entered a Dungeon!

  Grave of the Titan.

  As they walked, the hall gradually shifted from a well-chiseled entrance to a craggy, rough tunnel leading into the heart of the mountain.

  The light level gradually became dimmer and dimmer until Jeb pulled out the BSF and created a single point of brilliant blue fire above their heads.

  Only fifty feet or so in, they came across the first triggered trap.

  It was a patch of discolored floor radiating a tremendous amount of heat. Rising out of the top of it was a single crispy limb of one of Ron’s zombies, slowly smouldering.

  When Brett poked the discolored stone with his weapon, it cracked apart easily, revealing molten rock underneath it.

  It was like quicksand, except lava. Anyone carelessly stepping onto the seemingly solid surface would get dunked in lava. Generally not survivable, but with the System…who knew? Still, no one was eager to be the first to test it out.

  “Let’s keep our eyes open,” Jeb said. “There’s no guarantee the zombies got all of them.”

  Bret and Amanda nodded, tapping the floor with their weapons as they cautiously made their way around the death-pit.

  Jeb was scanning the walls and ceiling for hidden threats when he felt a yank on his legs, collapsing him sideways onto the ground with a grunt.

  Time seemed to slow as he looked down and spotted a cherry-red tentacle wrapped around his feet. Well, foot and pegleg. The tentacle was about as thick as his arm, and led back to the lava trap.

  It was reeling him in.

  Before Jeb could react, Jessica stepped in and bisected the appendage, causing it to leak molten blood on the ground. There was something like a muffled squeal that vibrated through the stone floor, and the remaining tentacle quickly withdrew.

  Jeb’s armored pants were smoldering and he felt a distinct amount of heat through them as he kicked the severed tentacle off his legs.

  Jeb levered himself back to a standing position, staring at the rapidly re-darkening skin of rock over the lava.

  “Well,” he said, panting. “That’s a thing.”

  Jeb reached into his bag of rocks and pulled out a relatively flat one.

  Mystic trigger.

  He designed the trap to send spikes of telekinetic force downward in a wide cone, should a tentacle move within three feet of it. Hopefully it would kill the offending creature or convince it to fuck off.

  “Suck on that,” Jeb said, tossing the rock with a light spin to make sure it landed right side up. It landed with a splat and floated on top of the lava, slowly heating.

  Hopefully the triggers don’t get destroyed when the rock melts. I guess we’ll have to experiment with that.

  They kept moving. The hall suddenly opened up into a massive chamber that was swelteringly hot. It formed a massive dome above them that was pockmarked with jagged stone and somehow bore lines of molten rock tracing the sides of the chamber like veins.

  Maybe they are veins. Jeb thought. If it was real magma running through the walls like that, he could hardly picture this room being as stable as it was.

  The ground was rough, covered in jutting rocks and discolored patches of stone, along with strange tree-like structures that seemed to branch upward out of the ground, pulsing with molten rock.

  “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” Ron japed as they entered the chamber.

  Jeb scanned the ground. Everywhere were the corpses of zombies. Some of them were crushed, others burnt. There were also the remains of the zombie’s enemies. Obsidian black caterpillars about four feet tall and ten feet long. They had jaws big enough to sever a leg, and they seemed like they knew how to use them.

  They must have some kind of fire attack too, because most of the zombie corpses around them were charred.

  In the distance, there were some stone/fire golems crushing zombies like ants.

  They crept a bit further in, and Jeb saw one of the caterpillars still alive, glowing a fiery orange as it bit at its attackers and sprayed them with a white-hot death juice.

  It seemed like they darkened on death.

  “Let’s mark a good spot to fight with no pitfalls, then start kiting them in.” Jeb said. “Ron, can you make these things into zombies?” Jeb asked, tapping one of the caterpillars with his foot.

  “Can’t hurt to try,” Ron said, rubbing his hands together.

  ***Casey***

  It was hard to explain how holding baby Casey made her feel. Happy was a gross oversimplification of the rush of emotions when she held her daughter close.

  My daughter, not his. Casey’s thoughts soured as she remembered her Samuel catching a flight to New York and having the audacity of asking her parents for the money he needed to abandon her.

  What kind of crock of shit is that?

  Baby Case started fussing, her arms and legs wriggling under the swaddling blanket.

  “I’m sorry, was mommy making scary faces?” Casey said, nuzzling her daughter and checking for poopies.

  If you ignored the ever-present danger, the half-excavated cave, the weird living utensils and blankets, the lack of diapers, the limited amount of healthy food, the smell, and the dirty, torn clothes, this would be an idyllic moment between mother and daughter.

  “You’re going to need a bath soon,” She muttered, rocking baby Casey while the rest of the camp took care of itself, thanks to her Class.

  The two wood mannequins Jeb had made had somehow communicated with each other through gestures and nods, before lying motionless on either side of the camp, to all appearances dead.

  Unlike the other things she’d brought to life, they didn’t seem interested in bouncing happily in time to some music only they could hear. Their behavior seemed to carry Jeb’s underhanded nature. Perhaps it was their behavior following their form.

  Or maybe their creator rubbed off on them.

  Casey was conflicted about Jeb. His behaviors and mannerisms reminded her strongly of her dad. They were both roughly the same age, and had been in the army, but…

  They’re not the same person, she shook her head. She didn’t know if Jeb wanted to keep her safe because it was the right thing to do, or if he had some ulterior motive, but he’d already done more for her than her dad ever had.

  “Hey there!” an unfamiliar voice called from the distance, and Casey’s heart started slamming in her ribcage.

  “Shit, shit!” she whispered under her breath, setting the baby down as gently as she could and picking up the water gun.

  Casey poked her head out the cave entrance and spotted three men approaching, nearly at the edge of the camp. They were ragged, with bags under their eyes, covered in superficial wounds, and carrying well-
used weapons and armor.

  They peered curiously at the motionless golems, but ignored them as they approached the scarab meat stew, expressions brightening.

  Get up! Aren’t you supposed to defend me!? Casey thought. If her defenders could hear her thoughts, they didn’t do anything about it.

  Nothing to do but go out herself.

  “Hold up!” Casey said, stepping out of the cave and aiming the water-gun at the three men.

  Her eyes widened when she recognized them: Three of Eddie’s goons.

  Fuck!

  Chapter 18: Black Betty

  “Whoah!” The closest man said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. Casey could smell his B.O. from across the camp, causing her nose to wrinkle involuntarily.

  “Stay over there,” Casey said, motioning with the water gun.

  “Is that a gun?” One of the men said, peering at the heavy hunk of metal in her hands. Damn thing almost weighed as much as she did, but there was a reason for that.

  Casey breathed in, and entered her Myst Core. In the center of her being was a crumbling old bible, so weatherworn and overused that it was falling apart, pages dropping out of the seams. She mentally picked up a page that had fallen out of her dad’s bible and jammed it into the gun, pointing it at a nearby boulder.

  SSSHHHHH!

  A blast of concentrated water lanced out and bore a hole through a boulder jutting out of the ground beside the rightmost man. The gun bucked in her hands and nearly knocked her off her feet, but she wrestled it back down.

  “Close enough.” Casey said, her voice steady and grim.

  Inside, she was freaking out.

  What the hell am I supposed to do!? They’re gonna kill me! They’re big and smelly and strong, and I’m so fucking screwed! Jeb, Jess, hell, I’d even take Ron, where the hell are you!? Why aren’t the guards guarding me!? They’re my creations aren’t they!?

  The men took a few steps back, watching her warily, allowing her to catch her breath and find words.

  “What do you want?”

  “Umm…Food and a safe place to sleep…Miss.” The one in the front said, arms still raised.

  She considered it for a long minute, adrenaline making her body ache with the need to run or fight. Running would mean abandoning everything she had here, which was unacceptable, and she couldn’t see herself leaving her baby.