Fist Full of Credits: A New Apocalyptic LitRPG Series (System Apocalypse - Relentless Book 1)

by Craig Hamilton

  “Credits by the fistful,” Zoey interjected. “I’m sure of it.”

  Pearce shook his head at Zoey's words but waved toward the vehicle behind them. “Would you like to ride with us?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “We’ve got to finish our patrol route,” cautioned Pearce. “But once we’re done, we can take you back to the compound and get you set up.”

  “That’s fine.” I shrugged indifferently.

  I followed Zoey around to the passenger side of the vehicle. There were three doors along either side with a slight gap between the middle set and the door farthest to the back. In the center of that space sat the turret housing. Zoey was already climbing into the first, so I approached the middle door and pulled it open when I found it unlocked. I glanced inside and found a relatively comfortable interior.

  “Wait,” the voice of the third officer demanded from the turret as I looked inside. “You’re bringing this guy with us now?”

  “If I wanted your opinion, then I would have asked for it, Beatty,” Pearce responded.

  I easily picked up that the sergeant’s intentional omission of the man’s honorific highlighted his displeasure. The turret gunner missed the hint and continued to grumble.

  “Shut your mouth, Beatty,” ordered Pearce. “If I hear another word out of you, you won’t be leaving the compound again no matter who your daddy is! I’ll ensure you’re stuck on barracks duty and spend all of your time cleaning toilets!”

  The stream of obscenities from the turret abruptly cut off as Kevin finally clued in that his superior had lost any semblance of patience.

  The inside of the vehicle was broken up into three main compartments. In the forward compartment, the vehicle controls looked like something out of a science fiction movie and included holographic displays projected onto the inside of the front windshield. There was enough space between the seats that someone could climb between the middle section and the front without too much trouble.

  Between the middle compartment and the rear section, a raised circular platform supported the turret housing above and saw the legs of the third officer ascend up into the turret itself.

  It was interesting to me that the most aggressive member of the group was also the lowest leveled. Was he pushing hard to catch up or to impress his superiors? I pushed aside my thoughts on the group dynamic for now and returned my attention to the rest of the vehicle’s interior.

  A fine mesh divided the rear compartment from the rest of the vehicle—clearly the prisoner transport section of the upgraded police cruiser.

  Since the inside of the vehicle didn’t look like an obvious trap, I swung myself into the bucket seat and closed the door. Then I leaned forward to poke my head between the pair of front seats and look over the controls as the officers settled into the forward compartment.

  When the vehicle moved forward, the acceleration was so smooth that I barely felt any sense of motion. While Pearce focused on the road, Zoey explained the vehicle’s controls and features. The officer’s lecture about the features of the vehicle continued for the entire length of the patrol, only interrupted during the times when monster spawns attacked.

  The most notable encounter occurred when a handful of fire-breathing squirrels were easily mowed down after Pearce allowed Kevin to open up with the 240G. The weapon thundered, the chattering echoing down into the vehicle compartment, accompanied by the tinkling of empty shell casings that fell from the gunner’s station overhead. When the stream of machine gun fire raked over the beasts, I felt relief that I hadn’t ended up on the receiving end of that fire during our initial meeting.

  Pearce eventually drove south along Grant Street, passed the Boulevard of the Allies, and almost to the end of the street before he turned left onto First Avenue.

  After a couple minutes of quiet driving, Pearce said, “We’re here.”

  I leaned forward and looked over Zoey’s shoulder to see out through the front windshield as we drove beneath Crosstown Boulevard and into the parking lot outside the Pittsburgh Municipal Court. The imposing, fortress-like structure of the Allegheny County Jail stood just beyond the courthouse, and it was immediately obvious that the prison had received some upgrades since I had last seen it before the System’s arrival.

  The jail building itself still looked almost like an interconnected complex of a half dozen rectangular, red brick apartment towers. The upper levels of the building were offset, like a pair of rows of red squares on a red-and-white checkerboard, connected only at their corners. Only the narrow windows of the structure—with specially constructed cement housings partially obstructing them—hinted at its true purpose.

  Where a chain-link fence had once surrounded the complex, now a rectangular wall of smooth stone stood, complete with a two-story watchtower that overlooked the parking lot we had just pulled into. The wall around the jail also wrapped around the adjoining area that included the Pittsburgh Municipal Court building.

  Far above, the transformed roof of the prison now held lights and guidance systems for a series of landing pads that sat above the rooftops. A scaffold framework extended out wider than the building itself to support the wider platform. Due to the elevation of the roof, I only got a brief glimpse of a single aircraft that sat close to the edge, but something about the vehicle jarred my memory, and I more closely examined what I could see of the craft. The boxy aircraft appeared to have engines that could rotate for vertical takeoff at each corner of their rectangular frames.

  Then I realized it wasn’t the aircraft itself that had drawn my attention but the profile of the craft’s footprint. The distinct shape of a rectangular outline with nozzles at the corners would leave circular down blast burns beneath them.

  That layout matched the impressions burned into the grass at the high school weeks ago.

  I had finally located where the Krym’parke were based.

  And I was being practically chauffeured directly inside.

  Chapter 23

  “You guys have spaceships?” I asked.

  I pointed toward the roof of the jail as the officers and I climbed out of the Wolverine. Kevin ignored the rest of us and quickly walked toward the gate that stood between the parking lot and the main entrance to the Pittsburgh Municipal Court building. Pearce and Zoey seemed content to let the young man rush off, so I matched their relaxed pace while I looked around.

  A matching vehicle sat parked several empty spaces away, though the rest of the lot stood empty. The other transport bore signs of heavy use, with the paint heavily scratched and the push bar attached to the front bumper bowed inward before it twisted downward to almost touch the pavement.

  “Not really,” replied Zoey. “Those belong to our suppliers. They’re aliens, but their equipment allowed us to put down a riot on the first day after prisoners started using their abilities to escape from their cells.”

  “Sounds like a rough day,” I said.

  It took a surprising amount of effort to fake sympathy after how that first day had started out for me.

  “Our radios stopped working, so we couldn’t coordinate,” Zoey continued. “Any guard on their own got overwhelmed as the inmates gained control of one wing and pushed into the next.”

  The officer trailed off, her eyes distant as the memories played out in her mind. After a moment, Zoey shook her head and continued. “Then the warden showed up with a bunch of high-tech gear, and nobody questioned it when several aliens joined her in pushing back the inmates. The warden and her new allies cut through the front line so fast that the bodies were unrecognizable, and the rest of the rioters surrendered quickly after that.

  “Once we had things under control, the warden explained that she had struck a deal to exchange the dangerous prisoners for technology that would help us build this area into a fortified compound to keep us and our families safe.”

  While Zoey told the tale of the first day from the perspective of a guard at the Allegheny County Jail, we crossed the parking lot an
d reached the gate in the wall that surrounded the compound. The metallic portal noiselessly split open in the middle at Kevin’s approach and remained open until we had all passed through. Both sides of the gate had retracted into slots set in the stone wall, unlike the goblin fortifications where the gates were hinged and swung open inward.

  Beyond the gates, the courthouse remained largely unchanged. Roughly rectangular in shape, the front entrance into the gray stone building was on the short end that faced north. The three-story structure had successively smaller footprints for the second and third floors, while the long sides of the building bowed slightly outward like the curved sides of a rugby football. Tall windows rose above the front entrance, but to either side of the center, the far narrower windows along the wings gave the building a fortified atmosphere.

  Kevin had long disappeared through the glass front door by the time the rest of us reached it and entered. A notification appeared as I stepped through the doors, and I scanned it quickly.

  You Have Entered a Safe Zone (Pittsburgh Municipal Court)

  Mana flows in this area are stabilized. No monster spawning will happen.

  This Safe Space includes:

  Pittsburgh Municipal Court

  Allegheny County Jail

  By the time I read and dismissed the System message, we were inside, and I saw Kevin standing just behind a man in a black robe. Arms folded across his chest, the youth stared at us over the man’s shoulder with a smirk that radiated smugness.

  “Sergeant Williamson,” thundered the black-robed man. “You will explain yourself this instant.”

  “Judge Beatty,” Pearce replied coolly. “What exactly do you expect me to explain?”

  “You can begin with why you have been holding back opportunities for my son to level and why you are allowing a stranger into the safety of our refuge.” The man lifted his chin upward so that he looked down his nose toward us, and I saw the similarities in the facial structure between the older man and the youth behind him.

  While he had his attention focused on the sergeant beside me, I took the chance to examine the arrogant man.

  Maximillian Beatty (Judge Level 12)

  HP: 110/110

  MP: 140/140

  Pearce looked silently at the official, then shifted his gaze to the young man behind him. Kevin paled slightly and his smirk faded before the youth looked away from the sergeant’s intense stare.

  A few people in civilian clothes loitered in the long entrance hall beyond the father and son, clearly listening to the drama as it played out. Another police sergeant, equipped similarly to Pearce and Zoey, leaned on a reception desk to the side of the entrance and watched the showdown with a bemused air.

  “Don’t ignore me,” Judge Beatty ranted, his face growing red. “I—”

  “Our mandate is accountability, integrity, and respect, Judge,” growled Pearce. “Not shooting pedestrians with machine guns because we don’t like the way they look.”

  “That was one time,” scoffed the older man.

  “If I had my way, your son would be in a cage with the other animals. Warden Hughes, for some inexplicable reason, still likes the boy and wants him trained, so I will continue to follow orders.” Pearce stalked forward and jammed his index finger into the chest of the older man. “But be warned, my patience for putting up with him is almost out.” The officer gestured toward me. “And this stranger is a registered Galactic Bounty Hunter. Do you know what that means?”

  The judge mumbled a sullen response, and a vein throbbed in the forehead of his reddened face. Far more interesting to me was the information that Pearce had seen something of my status. Some ability or Class Skill had allowed him to read enough about me to at least identify my title. That revelation filled me with a sense of vindication that I had been right to disguise so much of my status.

  I still didn’t trust this group, especially now that my hunch that Kevin had murdered civilians had proved accurate. While I felt that I could justify my actions, at least to myself, for those I had slain, every sense I possessed told me that Kevin would lack any justification whatsoever for his actions. My intuition led me to believe the young man was an arrogant narcissist who followed in his father’s footsteps, and that neither man had any qualms against killing in cold blood if it benefitted them.

  The judge huffed at the sergeant’s aggressive stance and opened his mouth to retort, but a pair of tiny figures rushed out of a courtroom and streaked across the hall.

  “Daddy, Daddy!”

  Only after the two blurs had wrapped themselves around the officer’s legs and stopped abruptly could I see that they were a pair of little girls, neither more than five years old. They wrapped their arms around the officer’s legs so that one was on each side and clutching him desperately. The blond hue of their pigtails matched the sergeant’s hair, so their cries weren’t much of a surprise.

  The judge seemed unwilling to continue the verbal altercation in the presence of the sergeant’s children and promptly turned away before stalking off. Kevin followed his father, and Zoey snorted in disgust beside me.

  Pearce took a moment to pry the two children from his legs before he scooped them up into a bear hug and held them tight. After a moment, he set the girls back down, but they latched onto his arms like they had his legs moments earlier.

  “Girls, you know I love you, but what have I told you about running off from your mom?” the sergeant said, his voice warm but stern.

  “To always stay within sight of her,” muttered the slightly taller of the pair.

  The two girls finally released the officer and reluctantly stepped back. Abashed, they fidgeted with their heads down and stared at their feet.

  “That’s right,” replied Pearce.

  He affectionately rubbed the tops of their heads then dropped his hands to their shoulders. He turned them back the way they had come.

  “I need you to go back to your mom now,” Pearce said. “Dad has to finish some things for work, but I promise I’ll come spend time with you once I’m done.”

  “Okay, Dad.” “Yes, Dad.”

  The two bolted off after their hurried replies.

  “I love you, you little munchkins,” Pearce called after the girls as they ran down the hall and disappeared through one of the open doors.

  The sergeant stood still and watched for a moment after they were gone, then he sighed and turned back toward us.

  “Sorry about that,” Pearce said. “I know that wasn’t exactly a warm welcome.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for the kids,” I said with a shake of my head. “Though seeing Kevin’s father, it pretty much explained his attitude. It must run in the family.”

  The sergeant who had stood beside the reception desk walked over and shook his head.

  Brian Conrad (Sharpshooter Level 15)

  HP: 160/160

  MP: 170/170

  “You have no idea.” Brian chuckled darkly as he joined the conversation.

  “The judge called in a few favors with the warden to get his son assigned to one of the patrol groups so that his college-dropout son could gain experience faster,” Pearce explained. “And that was after using one of his Class Skills to pass a judgment on his own kid to leech a percentage of the boy’s experience gains back to himself, all so the judge doesn’t have to go outside the walls at all.”

  “Is that why Kevin has such a low level?” I asked.

  Pearce nodded. “Neither of them will go out alone to put in any extra effort that might endanger themselves, so we’re left to babysit a kid who is behind and gains levels slower than everyone else.”

  The bitterness in the officer’s voice was apparent to everyone, and silence fell over the group. No one wanted to speak up after that.

  The fact that this organization tolerated the actions of the judge and his son justified my wariness and proved my lack of trust well-founded.

  “Let’s go see the warden,” Pearce finally said, his words ending the awk
ward silence.

  Brian waved a farewell and returned to his post at the reception desk as we headed down the hall. The central corridor had offshoots that led to various courtrooms, including the doorway the girls had run into earlier, and I could see into them since all of the doors into the hall remained open. People were packed within, though they weren’t crowded to the point of being uncomfortable from what I could tell.

  “We turned the courtrooms into dormitories,” Zoey explained when she saw where I was looking. “That’s where the families are staying.” She was quiet for a moment, her aura of depression palpable. “Those who survived, that is.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  There wasn’t much I could say. It was obvious the officer had lost someone close to her.

  We passed the courtrooms and turned left before going through a security checkpoint manned by a pair of guards with levels just out of single digits. While it seemed that the patrol groups, like Zoey and Pearce, were picking up levels regularly, those who stayed behind to guard the facility were falling behind.

  Once through the checkpoint, a narrow passage connected the courthouse to the adjoining jail building. I followed beside Zoey as Pearce led the way to the warden’s office.

  After a short walk, Pearce knocked on a nondescript wooden door in the middle of a long hallway.

  “Enter,” a piercing voice called from the other side.

  Pearce opened the door and stepped through as he beckoned me to follow. There were two figures inside, one human and the other most definitely not.

  The back wall of the room was filled with a well-stocked bookshelf. Centered in front of the shelves sat an elegant desk, behind which sat a sharp-featured woman with black hair pulled into a tight ponytail and dark eyes that bored into me as I stepped into the room. I met the woman’s scrutiny, and a chill ran down my spine. Soulless depths peered out at me from her hooded gaze, and I glanced away to take in the rest of the room.