Dubstep Succubus

by Aaron Siverling

  I wanted the nunchucks.

  No. I needed nunchucks.

  "DO NOT GET THE NUNCHUCKS!" Five sent me.

  "How did you know?" I confirmed.

  "I know you."

  "Oh, right."

  Then she sent, "Please. Get something useful. We need useful. Nunchaku can come later."

  I sighed. Internally.

  Then I frowned. Also internally.

  I looked through the data for Combat Classes and their skills, thinking that I should at least consider them as well.

  You could only have one starting class and the Combat Class gave you the ability to learn one skill with an integrated auto assist. Something that helped you learn to use the weapon more effectively at a faster rate.

  I'd played a few fighting games with something similar that worked with haptic suits. It taught you the correct way to hold the weapon, the correct stances and attacks.

  It showed you what you were doing wrong with a combination of visual overlays and mild vibration from you haptic suit, as well as highlighting the appropriate area.

  I played a few Immortal Combat games with that system and wondered if Icarus's auto assist was anything like that.

  I had barely gotten through reading about the Tank Subclasses, when one of the Punishers started jabbing me in the shoulder and yelling into my ear.

  While the rest of us had been reading, the Punishers had been yammering on and on about our “freaky” behaviour.

  “Hey! Hey kid what's your name? No! Stop with the confirm signals. Speak!" One of the Punishers was apparently fed up with our lack of responsiveness. "You gotta remember your name, right? Say your name.”

  I had to suppress the urge to say "Your name," aloud.

  Then I thought, why not? So I opened my mouth to talk but all that came out was a rough, gurgling croak.

  He stared at me for several seconds before looking over at the Overseer.

  The Overseer said, “They don't need to speak, only to follow orders. Any requests for further instructions are done through query signals. Most of them probably haven't spoken verbally in years.”

  I swallowed and tried again, determined say something. That something would probably be annoying, confusing and/or sarcastic.

  What came to mind however, was what they had drilled into us in our first days of the Grey Hell.

  It came out harsh, scratchy and incomprehensible at first but I tried again and again until I could speak recognizable words.

  “Names… are… forbidden… touch is forbidden… talking… is forbidden… unauthorized communication… is forbidden…"

  Every Punisher on the bus leaned forward, staring at me as I spoke in a broken, whispery voice.

  The Overseer, who wasn't really listening, spoke over me. "Ah yes, I have its name right here. 24601-01. Also known as…” the Overseer paused, then laughed. "Its name is Ruin."

  “Wait, wait," one of the Punishers gazed between the Overseer and myself. "Ruin? As in-”

  “Yes, that Ruin. The infamous Ruin from the vids." He laughed again, the sound ugly and smug. "Not so cheerful now is he?”

  The Overseer walked down the aisle, his lips twisting into a sneer as he said, “Come on Ruin. Smile! You like to ruin things don't you, 24601-01? Well guess what? You're the reason we're all here! You, me, your friends, your Chain. Everyone. What you did at Cross Creek…”

  He grabbed my jaw and wrenched my head up, making me look directly into the hated white blankness where the windows of his soul should be. “... that's what pushed through the new laws. The laws that let Gray Hall Enterprises do what they did. How does that make you feel, Ruin? Does that make you angry? Angry enough to take a swing at me?”

  I was receiving multiple signals, not only from members of my Chain but from every Subadult on the bus.

  Some telling me to spit in his eye. To take a chunk out of him with my teeth. To knock him on the ground and to keep stomping until he stopped moving. And then stomp him some more.

  Others begged me not to do anything. They didn't want the trouble. They didn't want to give the Punishers any reason to hurt them or the rest of their Chains.

  To say I was conflicted was an understatement. My natural inclination towards destruction rebelled against years of conditioning.

  In the end it was Five that I listened to. “Whatever you do, I'm with you.”

  And I knew it was true. Whatever happened next, she would back me up. All of 24601 would. Even if they endured the same fate as me, they would stick by me.

  When the Overseer asked how being responsible for the Grey Hell made me feel, it made me feel like ripping his goggles off, then ripping his eyes out, then hijacking the bus to freedom.

  But I wouldn't do that. I couldn't do that. I just couldn't.

  My hands were zip tied.

  So I did nothing while the Overseer continued to talk. "... even what happens next is on you. Don't you want to say anything? Do anything?”

  He paused, waiting for a reaction. Some sign that I heard him.

  I gave him nothing but the dead, empty expression they had trained into us. He sneered at me one last time before letting go of my jaw. I automatically faced forward again as if nothing had happened.

  “Hmm, I guess we did break him. It's too bad they're all going to be disposed of. We put so much work into them.”

  As he walked to the front of the bus, signals from the Subadults started bouncing around like coked up toddlers tossing flubber balls around in zero-g.

  I received unwavering encouragement from my Chain and a few others. I also got a few horrific death threats.

  I sent back thank yous to the first and compliments to the most creative threats to the latter. The less creative threats I sent pointers to.

  The adults were completely oblivious to this of course. They kept on talking about us like we weren't even there.

  Or more likely, they just didn't care what we heard.

  “Why do you keep calling them ‘it’?” A Punisher asked the Overseer.

  "Habit." He replied with an ‘it is what it is’ tone. "With most of them you can't really tell if they're a male or female unless we get close, or open their files. Besides, they just become an ‘it’ after a while.”

  I never thought I'd see the day when Punishers showed sympathy.

  ♦♦♦

  Kiss And Make Up.

  “Awww… that's so… ah… um… ew… eeew! Warn a guy would you! Oh boy. Okay! You know what? I'm just gonna… go over there. Away from… yeah.”

  In case you're wondering, the Elf and the Dwarf did not attack each other with mutual screams of hate and rage then proceed to battle each other to the death.

  Nope.

  If that had happened, I would've fought alongside the Elf maiden and together we would have defeated the hated Dwarf.

  Then the Elf girl would gaze at me all adoringly and fall instantly in love for me. Declaring that I was the most attractive, the most awesome, the most virile of any male she had ever met.

  To which I would say, that while I thought she was super cool and super hot and all the enjoyable varieties of various temperatures in between, we should probably just stay friends.

  Then she would say: “But I would do anything for you!”. And then I would say: “That's very nice of you but… wait… when you say anything…”

  But that didn't happen.

  Nope.

  Instead the Dwarf and Elf collided and started… kissing.

  Not the “Nice to see you” peck on the cheek. Not the “I missed you” peck on the lips. Not a “Happy anniversary of the first time we kissed” with a little slip of the tongue.

  Nope.

  This was a: “We haven't been able to touch each other for three years because we were in Hell!" smorgasbord of tongues, mutual groping and a chorus of disturbing moans.

  Yep.

  That's why I was several yards down the road and focusing my entire being on trying to modify my spell.

  I
learned how to change the spell form enough that I could cast it and then hold it its shape as a channelled spell.

  The problem was the channelled Force Spike cost a lot more magic. Even if I held the spell for the same amount of time as the original Force Spike, it still cost too much energy.

  Which meant I would have to switch between each Force Spike spell in order to be energy efficient, instead of just using the modified "better" spell.

  Altering the length of the spike into a Force Spear would take even more modifying and experimentation.

  Basically all I could do, even with variations of this specific shape, was stab things. It was a simple, driving force of energy.

  I learned that the long part of the spike wasn't solid enough to block a strike. That I couldn't move it from hand to hand, shoot it or throw it.

  It looked like no matter what version of the spell I discovered, it would never be able to block anything. Well, I could block something on the point, but the whole shape of the spell was designed around that point.

  As I tested the spells limits I became more familiar with its form. Not just the three dimensional image of what I held in my mind but the sensation of it. The feel of it.

  I felt an idea creeping through the maze of my subconscious, struggling to find the exit into my waking thoughts.

  “Facehuggers!” the Dwarf yelled.

  My concentration snapped back to my new reality to find a pack of monsters with bloody teeth and glowing eyes coming this way.

  “They're called ‘Whatsits!” I yelled helpfully as I raced toward them.

  “What?" The Dwarf yelled as he batted away one of the Whatsits with the side of his axe.

  “Not important!” I was close enough that I didn't need to yell but did so anyway. "Terren! Use the sharp part of the axe! That might work better!”

  “I know!” he yelled back, frustration evident in his voice as he changed his grip on the axe. "And its Tar Ren! Not Ter Ren!"

  "Why are we - ” Aeria cut herself off and asked at lower volume, “Why are you yelling.”

  “ADRENALINE!” I yelled as I killed another.

  They went down pretty easy but there were more coming out of the woods. A lot more.

  I was very aware that as individuals, they were just a bunch of trash mobs. That being said, it didn't take a genius to understand that too much of anything can be dangerous.

  Trust me, I once saw a gang of ten year olds hijack an icecream truck.

  It was hilarious.

  I tried to do a quick count of the Whatsits but trying to do so while they kept hopping around and I was fighting was too difficult. At a rough estimate there were about twenty.

  And more coming.

  There were no status bars showing how much magic I had left but I could feel the drain.

  Already low on magic from practicing, I had to resort to kicking and stomping. Spiking the creatures whenever my magic regenerated enough and even stabbing them with my starter dagger.

  Taren took the brunt of the attacks while Aeria stayed next to him. Healing him as he put himself between her and any Whatsits that came near.

  They came from the same direction which let us move steadily back down the road. Taren in the tank position at the front while I DPS'd around him and the Elf healed as best she could.

  "This isn't good!" I stated the obvious.

  "I know!" Taren yelled.

  "I'm running out of magic!" Aeria yelled back. "What do we do?"

  "After some careful consideration, I have crafted a creative plan to kill them until they're dead!"

  "That's a terrible plan," Aeria shouted back.

  "Would it sound better in song form?" I asked and then started singing.

  "Just keep killing!

  Just keep killing!

  Just keep killing killing killing!

  What do we do we kill kill kill.

  Ha ha ha ha ha ha I love to killlll - "

  "NOT HELPING!" the Elf screamed at me.

  "Its helping me!" I screamed back.

  "Take this seriously!"

  Okay, I admit it. My refusal to take things seriously is a defence mechanism. A defence I definitely did not want to give up as I needed all the defense I could get at the moment.

  Ever since falling into this world I had pushed my fear away. Not the of fear death or violence or pain. I'd faced plenty of that on the Outside.

  Mostly I had been afraid I couldn't cut it. That I was the weak link in my Chain. That they would abandon me. Decide I wasn't worth the trouble. That I wouldn't be useful enough, not good enough, unable to help them when they needed me to.

  But during the fight I realized something.

  I may be scatterbrained, easily distracted, annoying and frustrating. I may lack practical skills and social graces.

  But I'm really good at breaking things. Things and people and monsters.

  I started laughing then. A small snicker that became a growing giggle that blossomed into a maniacal cackle.

  I tried holding it in, I really did, but I couldn't help it. My head fell back as it clawed its way past my teeth and tongue and tore away the last remnants of my fear.

  This wasn't a game, this wasn't the Outside. This was real life, my new real life. These things were real, even if they weren't alive.

  Which meant I could enjoy breaking them. So I stopped holding back, stopped fighting conservatively.

  And it felt so good to let go.

  Still laughing I ran past Taren and started attacking them head on. I stomped, kicked, punched, clawed, spiked and stabbed my way through them.

  Maybe it was PTSD, maybe it was shock finally settling in, maybe something inside me had finally broken.

  Whatever the reason, my laughter grew louder, wilder, as it drowned out my pain and my sense of time. The wounds I accumulated were inconsequential. The damage I received irreverent.

  I didn't care. I wasn't afraid, and that lack of fear was freeing.

  Then, all too soon, it was over. We were alive, I had lost my dagger somewhere and he last of the Whatsits rotted away as I ate their essence.

  I raised my clawed hands to the sky as I laughed, reveling in the joy of being alive and free.

  In that moment I knew everything would be okay. That whatever dangers and trials this world had, I could overcome them.

  Eventually, I got it out of my system, sighing in satisfaction as I turned to look at the others.

  "Well. That was fun. Equal share of the loot, right? We worked as a team and I don't think Aeria should be left out because she didn't kill anything. Also, why are looking at me like that?”

  Aeria looked a little disquieted but people usually looked like that after I had a good laugh. Not sure why.

  I was also bleeding a lot. Now that I was paying attention, I could actually feel how little health I had left and I kinda wanted to fall down now.

  But it was Taren's expression that had me concerned. He looked half afraid and half angry. Like he suddenly realized he had diarrhea and he was in the middle of nowhere without a toilet in sight.

  "Oh, hey dude… do you have to -"

  “You!” He spat the word with an enraged, incandescent fury most people reserved for Adolf Hitler, people who talk during the movie and broccoli.

  “Um, me?”

  “You!” He pulled Aeria behind him and hefted his axe. "I know who you are!”

  “Ah…” I said in sudden understanding. "Well, however we've met before I would like to take this opportunity to apologize…”

  “We've never met!”

  “Oh… um. Okay…”

  “I know who you are. I know that laugh. I've heard that laugh. Your name is Ruin.”

  “Honey,” Aeria said placatingly as she tried to extricate herself from his grip. "Whatever he's done, he helped us.”

  "You don't know what he did," the Dwarf snarled, shaking with anger. "He's the one! He's the one that killed us all!"

  Chapter Five: Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Life.
With Eligibility For Parole. Eventually. Maybe.

  The general consensus was that the Overseer was screwing with us.

  There was no way one person could be the catalyst for all this. Just like there was no way that killing an enormous chunk of the population would be accepted.

  But then, as we were unloaded from the bus and onto a Maglev train, Three pointed out the various times in history when that exact thing had happened.

  I sent back a confirmation that said, “Yeah! Thanks Three! That is exactly what we all needed to hear!"

  “I assume your use of empathis is meant to convey sarcasm,” he queried, "I apologise for contributing to your distress.”

  Four signaled back to Three that we knew he was just trying to help.

  Two said we all needed to stop worrying and enjoy the ride.

  Surprisingly, when we stopped stressing about what the Overseer said we did actually enjoy the ride.

  Especially when we saw the sunrise. The blossoming, great golden light filled my head with such a complicated swell of emotion it overflowed and spilled out of my eyes.

  That, and staring right into the sun tended to make the eyes water.

  Well, not right into it. We couldn't “rubberneck” as the Punishers called it. But even just surreptitiously looking around with our eyes we saw more real color in a few seconds then we had in three years.

  The smells were different too, not new, but so far back in our memory they almost seemed to be that way.

  Signals constantly pinged back and forth all through the train and the Punishers didn't seem to notice. Or care, as long as we didn't cause any trouble.

  “We have compiled as much material as we could find on the Icarus Project,” Three said. "The information is surprising.”

  Three is usually Captain Understatement so I was interested in what he would deem “surprising”.

  When I was done reading I sent a confirmation signal saying, “Congratulations, Three. I hereby promote you from Captain Understatement, to Major Understatement.”

  Apparently a gaming company had created/discovered an entire world. Not just an entire world but and an entire reality.

  Using the newest hyperdense, three dimensional crystalline quantum computer technology, the gaming company, which was funded and partially owned by none other than Gray Hall Enterprises, created a game world so realistic it was indistinguishable from reality.