A couch took up most of one side wall. The pillow and blanket that lay neatly on the couch indicated that the warden probably slept there most nights.
Perched on one arm of the couch was an alien with one leg on the floor and the other resting on the couch. Even though I had expected to see one in here at some point, encountering one of the purple-brown-skinned Krym’parke face to face still unnerved me.
The horned alien blinked at me with amber eyes then smiled, revealing jagged fangs.
Mental Influence Resisted
I raised an eyebrow then hid my amusement at the wide-eyed surprise that crossed the alien’s face after I failed to show any sign of the intimidation effect it had activated. Instead, I schooled my expression into blank neutrality as I looked over the gear it carried. Several knives were sheathed across its body in belts that circled its waist and chest over a standard adventurer jumpsuit.
Jahgg’d Ot’lyke (Flesheater Tactician Level 5)
HP: 1680/1680
MP: 1500/1500
Low level combined with the insanely high health and Mana values, dead giveaways I had found another Advanced Class. The alien recovered from its surprise and curled its lips back in a silent snarl as it stared at me.
“Cut it out, Jahgg’d,” commanded the same sharp voice that had told us to enter the room.
The alien closed its mouth to hide the fangs, but its lips remained twisted in displeasure that I had resisted its intimidation effect. I looked back at the speaker and found that the warden’s attention was firmly focused on me now.
“Sergeant Williamson?” Unspoken in the woman’s tone was the implication that there better be a good explanation for my presence.
“Warden Hughes,” Pearce said, “this is Hal Mason. He’s a Hunter who is also a registered Galactic Bounty Hunter. He assisted us while on patrol, and I thought he might be useful.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw the Krym’parke on the couch stiffen at the mention of my Galactic Bounty Hunter title, but the alien made no further move toward me, so I kept my focus on the warden behind her desk.
The warden sized me up as I returned her appraisal with a frank stare of my own.
Madison Hughes (Warden Level 25)
HP: 280/280
MP: 300/300
The warden was the highest leveled human I had yet seen.
“Officer Kemper recognized him as a bail bondsman from back before the System happened,” Pearce continued.
The warden glanced at Zoey for a moment before she returned her attention to me. “Mr. Mason, you seem like a competent individual. What are you looking for with us?”
“I’m mainly looking to kill monsters to gain experience and materials,” I replied. “I’m also open to working on any bounties you may have posted.”
The warden exchanged a look with the alien on the couch when I mentioned bounties.
It was the alien’s second strange reaction to the word “bounty.” Something odd was going on here behind the scenes.
Then the words of the gnome clan leader echoed in my mind, from when Borgym had identified the dead alien from my description of the corpse at the school. I recalled that the Krym’parke were often hunted for their barbaric practices. If there was an open bounty on the aliens, my presence threatened them and endangered the warden’s supply of high-tech equipment. The warden’s reactions so far indicated that the woman understood the nature of the Krym’parke and also knew that they were Galactic pariahs.
I was already in too deep. I needed to find a way to be useful to the warden and the aliens, at least until I could complete my quest. Both of my quests actually, since I now seemed fairly certain that the Krym’parke were the mysterious suppliers of the high-quality goods that threatened the goblins’ trade monopoly, though I still lacked information on how they manufactured the weapons locally.
Those thoughts prompted an idea. The two factions were already poised for a trade conflict. What if I gave things a little push?
“If you’ve got any bounties on those goblins across the river, I’ll take those with great pleasure,” I said.
The warden cocked her head and considered me carefully. “You have a bone to pick with the goblins?”
“You could say that,” I replied with a sneer. “Those cheapskates. If there weren’t so damn many of them, they’d be easy pickings.”
The warden leaned back in her chair and considered my words. “I think we can work something out that will be mutually beneficial. Stick with Sergeant Williamson for now.”
“Sure,” I said. “The sergeant runs a good team.”
The warden waved us off, clearly dismissing us from the office. I followed Zoey out into the hall and waited for Pearce, who pulled the office door closed behind us.
“Thanks for the good words about the team,” said Pearce. The sergeant led us away from the office and deeper into the jail.
“It’s the truth.” I shrugged. “We wrecked those elementals, even with the kid being under leveled for the fight.”
Zoey snorted. “I’m not sure which is a bigger problem, his lack of levels or having to rein him in before he tries to kill everything he sees.”
We passed other officers in the halls only twice, and each time the officer hurried by, too tired to give more than a nod in greeting. Besides those two occurrences, the jail hallways were silent and empty. We also walked through a few open and unmanned security gates, something I found unusual if prisoners were still housed in the jail.
Halfway down a hall, Pearce stopped and turned toward me. “You have some monster corpses you’re looking to sell now?”
“I’ve got a couple,” I replied.
The sergeant nodded and led me through the door we had stopped beside while Zoey waited in the hallway.
My nose crinkled at the acrid metallic scent of blood which filled the room. The small gymnasium had been emptied of most fitness equipment and repurposed as a slaughterhouse. The floor had been stripped of the rubberized mats, which were now stacked in a corner of the room. A pair of power cages, once used for free weightlifting, had monster carcasses hung within. Blood dripped from the bodies and ran in rivulets across the floor to a drain in the center of the room.
A Krym’parke stood inside one of the squat racks with its back to us as it deftly carved slabs of meat from one of the monsters with a knife held in one hand. The alien’s other hand held a platter beneath where it worked and caught a filet each time the knife flashed through the monster.
After several slices, the alien flicked the knife upward after it completed one of the cuts and a bite-sized chunk of raw flesh flipped into its fanged maw.
Krahg’k Am’tyve (Flesheater Butcher Level 37)
HP: 780/780
MP: 850/850
The alien was the second one I had seen with the Flesheater designation included in its Class name. Since this one was clearly not highly Leveled enough to be an Advanced Class, I had to assume that the Class was somehow related to the aliens’ barbaric practice of consuming sentient life whenever they could get away with it.
“Yo, Krahg’k,” said Pearce. “Got some fresh meat for you.”
At the officer’s words, the alien spun toward us with eyes that glowed an angry red and raised the knife toward us threateningly. The Krym’parke paused as it looked at us, then slowly lowered the knife. After a few seconds, the haunting crimson glow in the alien’s eyes faded into a dull yellow.
“Thiss one iss ssorry,” the alien hissed, opening its mouth to display its sharpened teeth.
Despite the words, I didn’t think the alien felt particularly sorry.
“What can thiss one do for you?”
“Our new friend here has some monsters to sell,” Pearce explained.
There simply was not enough space for the carcass of the turtle I had slain earlier, so I only summoned a couple of the other monsters I had kept inside Meat Locker.
The alien examined the pair of dead monsters and spat an offer. I countered
higher, and we haggled for a bit until we reached a decent price. The agreed upon sum was less than I would have gotten from the gnomes, but still more than I would have received at the Shop.
After the Credits appeared in my Inventory, we left the butcher to his work, and Pearce guided me back out of the room.
“He seemed like a nice guy,” I said once the door closed behind us and we rejoined Zoey.
Pearce looked at me with narrowed eyes as we walked, apparently unable to tell if my words contained sarcasm. Zoey just snorted as we continued down the hall.
After we passed several more doors, the hall opened up into a moderately sized cafeteria filled with long tables and benches bolted to the floor. Murmured conversation echoed from the half dozen officers in black armored uniforms who sat clustered in small groups with a handful of civilians who seemed to be support staff as they ate from compartmentalized plastic trays.
Pearce pointed toward a stairwell beyond the cafeteria. “If you’re here without us later, don’t go up the stairs. That area is off-limits to everyone.”
“The aliens run the prison now,” explained Zoey. “We’re just here for exterior security against the monsters outside.”
“I understand.” While I verbally agreed, I kept my face blank. The forbidden staircase likely led to the missing kids.
Confident that his warning had been received, Pearce led us to a narrow window set in the wall that separated the cafeteria from the kitchen beyond. A cook on the far side wordlessly filled three trays and slid them over. I collected the last of the plastic platters and followed the officers to an open table.
“This sure beats the slop they’re giving to the refuges in the other building,” Zoey said, though she still sniffed her tray cautiously before taking a seat. “Even if it’s mystery meatloaf again.”
I caught the hint of a frown from Pearce at that remark, but it vanished by the time I joined the pair at the table. Perhaps the sergeant held some resentment that only officers were able to eat here, while his family remained stuck with the rest of the displaced survivors.
Once seated, the two officers dug into their food ravenously. I lifted a cut of mystery meat and sniffed it cautiously before my stomach growled in hunger. From the way the meat had been cut, I was pretty sure I knew exactly where it had come from. Still, my stomach demanded fuel, and I soon joined my tablemates in scarfing down the unidentifiable protein. In addition to the mystery meat, likely cooked from one of the monsters butchered in the former weight room, the trays had been generously piled with standard institutional fare that could have been found in any military barracks or hospital cafeteria.
Rice and beans were heaped in one corner section of the plastic tray, and applesauce filled the next compartment. Two pieces of wheat bread and a pad of butter completed the meal. The final compartment had an upside-down plastic cup, which I flipped over and filled from a pitcher of ice water on the table.
It was nothing fancy, but after several days of cooking monster bits over a Shop-bought camp stove, the simple meal was heavenly. Sometimes, there was pleasure in just not having to hunt and cook your own dinner.
I realized halfway through inhaling the meal that I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten surrounded by this many people. Before the apocalypse, my diet had mostly consisted of fast food and pre-packaged gas station sandwiches as I constantly pursued bail bounties to keep myself busy. In fact, the last time I had eaten with others may have been in a VA hospital cafeteria not dissimilar to this one.
I dismissed the thoughts of the past and focused on finishing my meal. I had more pressing issues to deal with than my antisocial tendencies.
The brownie in the dessert compartment was a little dry, but I washed it down with another glass of ice water. I wasn’t going to complain about free food.
Once my plate was empty, I sipped my water and looked at Pearce and Zoey. They had almost finished, though Zoey had left the applesauce on her tray untouched.
“So what’s next?” I asked.
Pearce cut a bite-sized piece of his brownie with his fork. Up until now, I had thought that the sergeant was a decent guy, between his affection toward his family and clear opposition to casual murder, but what kind of a person eats their brownie with a fork?
After he finished his bite of dessert, Pearce said, “We’re off duty until dawn tomorrow.”
“Unless monsters swarm the walls.” Zoey sighed. “Again.”
Pearce nodded tiredly. “Then it’s all hands on deck no matter the hour.”
“So what do you do with your evenings when you’re not fighting at the walls?” I asked.
“I spend them with my family,” Pearce replied with a look that dared me to find fault with that.
“Sleep mostly,” said Zoey.
“I don’t sleep much these days,” I said. “Is it cool if I go out and keep hunting?”
Pearce snorted. “Nobody is going to complain about you reducing the local monster population.”
The conversation turned to more small talk until our plates were clean. Once the pair had finished everything they were going to eat, we cleaned up our area of the table and returned the trays to a slotted window that led back to the kitchen. Zoey split off once we left the cafeteria, and I followed Pearce back to the courthouse.
The sharpshooter, Brian, still stood as informal guard at the reception desk when we returned to the courthouse entrance. Pearce gestured toward me when we reached the desk.
“Go ahead and clear Hal for gate access,” Pearce explained. “He’s going hunting and will be back to join us on patrol tomorrow morning.”
“Hunting solo?” Brian raised an eyebrow skeptically and shook his head. “Ballsy.”
A holographic panel appeared over the desk, and Brian swiped through several menus, presumably adding me to some kind of authorized user list.
“It’s the best way to gain experience,” I said.
“It’s the best way to die alone,” Brian retorted. “I’ll stay inside the walls, thank you.”
“See you in the morning.” I waved to Pearce as I ignored the officer’s comment.
Pearce waved back then hurried straight toward the courtroom his kids had scuttled into earlier. I pushed open the glass doors and stepped outside. The exterior gate parted to let me walk into the parking lot before it slid closed behind me.
The sun had dipped behind the skyline to the west and covered the city in the long shadows of the tall buildings that filled downtown. Cognizant that the guards in the watchtower were probably keeping an eye on me, I remained on foot when I left the parking lot. I walked west along First Avenue as I retraced the route by which I had arrived.
Once out of sight of the complex after walking the better part of two blocks, I turned north onto Ross Street. After another two blocks, I circled east onto Forbes Avenue.
Only a few people were hustling about on the street, intent on finishing whatever tasks they had before night fell. With few Safe Zones free of monster spawns, the streets were especially dangerous to non-Combat Class civilians at night. I tipped my head in greeting to the few people I saw and they nodded back as we passed each other, but it was more a wary acknowledgement that we weren’t going to attempt to kill each other than any actual sign of respect.
My walk through downtown went quietly, and I soon reached the edges of the Duquesne University campus. I turned south when I reached the campus, bypassing the many buildings that sat dark and abandoned, most of the ground floor windows and doors broken. I headed to the southernmost part of the campus and entered the shattered glass doors of Mellon Hall.
Since I’d only ever driven past the university and had never been inside any part of it, I was forced to spend a bit of time exploring the inside of the structure. On the top floor, I disturbed a nest of giant, acid-spitting mice that ruined another armored jumpsuit before I managed to put them down. Once I dealt with the mice, I was able to locate an access point that led onto the roof of the four-story building
. When I reached the roof, I closed the access door behind me and headed to the southern side of the building. As I approached the edge, I crouched so that anyone looking toward the building wouldn’t see me easily. Few buildings in this section of the city were tall enough to give any watchers enough elevation to see me crouched on the roof, but there was no sense in tempting fate.
I crawled to the edge and sat with my back against the short wall that ran around the perimeter of the roof. Once seated, I accessed Right Tool for the Job and pulled out one of the pieces of gear I had purchased from the Shop when stocking up for my return to bounty hunting.
Ommatidia Tactical Surveillance Camera
This tactical surveillance camera consists of a headset viewing unit and a variety of attachments that can be used to obtain live visuals of a target location. Optional remote cameras can be synced with the viewing unit to give multiple perspectives or allow a user to watch different locations with a single receiver.
I strapped on the viewpiece and adjusted the fit until it rested comfortably on my face, then I extended a linked fiber-wire camera remote up and over the edge of the wall behind me. In the viewscreen, I saw over the roof and the streets below toward my target.
The imposing, fortress-like structure of the Allegheny County Jail sat on the far side of the four-lane Boulevard of the Allies. From my elevated position, I now had a much better view of the rooftop landing pads, even though the highway blocked the view of the lower levels from here.
A handful of figures moved between the craft parked on the rooftop landing pads, but while they were definitely Krym’parke, I couldn’t tell right away if those were guards on patrol or aircrew performing maintenance for the ships. In the pre-System world, aircraft required extensive maintenance to stay airworthy. Even now, with most items having a durability measured under the System, it made sense that these ships would require skilled workers to keep them airborne.
I secured the camera in place near the corner of the rooftop and stored the headset back in my Inventory before I crawled along the roof to the southeastern corner. When I got there, I pulled another camera from my equipment storage and fixed it in place before I headed back to the access door. I slipped off the roof and secured the door once I was in the narrow stairwell that led down to the interior of the building.
Fist Full of Credits: A New Apocalyptic LitRPG Series (System Apocalypse - Relentless Book 1) Page 32