- Clair.
“I love pushing panic buttons. My resume said it three separate times. You gave me an entire room of them and nothing to do all day long. If anyone is to blame here, it’s you.”
– Defendant’s opening statement, Trial of, The People VS Joar ‘Panic Button’ Toeless, On Subject Of Worldly Panic, Mischief, Riots, Caused By False Alarm Of Alien Invasion, Impending World Destruction by Meteor Strike, Government Abdication, Rogue AI Assuming Control, Various Other Alarms.
Amity was a burned shell of whatever it had been before. Clair stood beside the truck, solemnly gazing out into the town. From atop the hill they were on, she could see down into the remains of the small town. Building were still smoking, sending up wavering plumes into the evening sky. They hadn’t seen it from a distance, through the haze, hell, they hadn’t noticed it until Clair had spotted the buildings. Now? They damn well saw it.
It looked to have been a few days old, if her experience with arson was anything to go by. Not that that experience amounted to much, just trying to burn down her parents house and taking her temper out on several abandoned buildings when that failed. Still, it looked old. Some of the buildings still stood, like the singed grey church and the brick post office, but the majority were ruined shells, black and crumbling.
The town, or whatever name fit a settlement of buildings this size, had a simple layout. One long street on either side of the highway that passed through, with another, smaller street running along the west side of that one, with a smattering of smoking buildings where shops had once been, and to the east, a maze of jumbled roads and houses. Two gravel roads left the town in either direction , and not far down one, a museum had stood with old farming equipment, now gone.
All of this, Clair saw with her brand new binoculars add-on. Turns out, the Status screen could be tweaked in very good ways. Once they were safely away from the dump, she’d pulled over and started spending some of that money. Buying three magazines of ammo, the binocular and thermal add-ons for her screen and a Kevlar vest had only made a small dent in her newfound wealth. Resisting the urge to splurge more on say, a rocket launcher or two had taken most of her willpower, but she had prevailed.
She combed over the burned houses and stores, then did it again, looking for any clues as to what the f*** happened. In the end, she had nothing, save for a ruined town. They had to get closer. She told Tommy as much, and snapped at him when he refused.
“You don’t wanna? Seriously?” Putting away her screen, Clair fully turned to face him as he slouched over the hood of the car, yawning. “You actually think you have a choice?”
“Yep. Look, it’s getting dark, and there could be monsters down there. You know, stuff that could kill us? The only one here who has a gun is you, so what should I do? Stand around and look tasty?” He yawned again and scratched a pimple on his forehead, popping it open. Clair just stared at him, trying to get some words together in a coherent sentence that would explain the sheer stupidity of what she just heard.
“Tommy. Let me get this straight. You’re loaded with money right now. There’s this magic screen in front of you that will sell you anything you want. Why haven’t you brought a gun yet?”
He shrugged and kept on scratching the bloody pimple, oblivious to the clear liquid that oozed from it onto his fingers. “It’s against the law, I suppose.”
Clair pinched the bridge of her nose, trying her best not to sound pissed off, only exasperated. “You’d rather die following ‘the law’ than protecting yourself? The law was well and good a week ago, when we didn’t have monsters running around and eating people. Buy the f****** gun.”
“Which one? I dunno how to use one. Ain’t got smartslike you. Probably shoot myself. Then what?”
“So you’d rather die than try?”
“Naw, I’d rather save my money for something good.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged again, leaning against the hood and continuing to scratch at the bloody area of his forehead. “Bunch of new games just came out. Once we get to safety, I wanna try them. They look like some good s***.”
“Your life is a f****** videogame.” Clair was getting pissed off now. The little prick did this every time she needed something. He’d try to deflect her, go around in circles until she got tired and left him alone. Not this f****** time. He was buying a gun, or she was hitting him.
“You can’t die in a ‘f****** videogame’.” He even made air quotes at that, pissing her off even further. “You can die here. I ain’t got balls of steel and no brains like you, but I have common f****** sense. I’m not going near that town. Go alone if you want to.”
Clair stopped. Why was she even trying to bring him along? She didn’t like the little snot, so why was she so dead-set on him coming with her anyway? He had money. He could buy his own vehicle. Something small, like a bicycle or something.
“You know, that’s a great idea, Tommy. I think I’ll do just that. Go alone.”
He finally gave up scratching and picked his nose, shoving his finger in to the first digit and wiping whatever he mined in there on the tire.
“See? Common sense finally prevails.”
“I’m taking my car. You can get to wherever you want on your own. With the money you saved up.” With that, she got back in the car, revved it and peeled away as he came running after her, waving his arms above his head.
She did slow down and pull to a stop eventually, about half a mile from where she’d taken off. She was nice like that. He did have a point about it being dangerous and nightfall approaching. Even she wasn’t ballsy enough to go into potential monster territory once the sun was down. She turned off the car and tilted her seat back, deciding to stay at the side of the road for the night.
Heeding her own advice, Clair left the gun out and in easy reach, just in case anything came along and decided this tin can looked tasty. She’d have left the engine running, but the price of System-bought fuel left her choking on her tasteless meal of whatever this nutrient gruel in a tube was. It was ridiculous.
The fuel, not the food. The food itself went down and stayed down, which was good enough for her. She wasn’t picky when it came to keeping herself alive and in shape. If she didn’t outright hate it, like tomatoes and shrimp, it was alright in her book. Her entire family had loved those two foods, but Clair had never been able to stomach them. Just another thing that set them apart. That, and Shanny.
Still, while the System Store prices were usually reasonable, and weapons were cheaper than they had any right to be, raw resources and food were anywhere from twice to ten times their actual value. That aside, the System Store was, well, a game-changer. It allowed someone to buy anything they wanted, anywhere. The possibilities for destruction were endless. A person could buy anything, which was a dangerous thing in itself. The news articles had proved that.
One of the more recent ones showed a report where a terrorist had boarded a plane, gone to the bathroom, and brought enough C-4 to blow the whole thing out of the sky. A tour guide had, without warning, blown the Kremlin sky-high on his last day of work. A list of his purchases showed an instruction manual on remote detonation, and over a hundred pounds of explosives, stashed in closets and cleaning carts. No less than three foreign leaders had been killed with the same method.
More than one news article stated that most of China was in open revolt. The citizenry suddenly found themselves being able to purchase military gear for dirt-cheap prices. The Sysnet contributed to the uprising as well, by providing people unfiltered and untraceable access to the internet, much to the chargin of their government. Suddenly armed to the teeth and free from government spying and censorship, they took to the task with an unforseen gusto, exploiting every little kink in the system to get the advantage. Their very first move as a coherent group? Buying and depositing several large bombs in the air over Beijing and every military base they could find. Now THAT was a declaration of war, in Clair’s opinion.
She had done some research, and found that in different parts of the world, weapons were cheaper than they were here by far. Why, she didn’t know, but a few nutjobs spammed messages that it was all for ‘entertainment value’.
Closing the News tab, she shifted a little, slightly uncomfortable in the bulky vest she had on, and took stock of her own Status. The screen displayed a model of a young black woman, of average height and a fit build. She’d always had good looks, one of the few things she got from her parents, and had exercised to keep herself in shape and build muscle. Not to the point of obsessing over her body, but she had glutes to kill for, a nice six-pack and corded muscles on her shoulders, arms and forearms.
Despite knowing every inch of her body, she still zoomed in and out of the screen, marveling at how accurate it was. Her short brown hair was cut just above the nape of her neck, and fell halfway down to her eyes. Messy, as always. Her nose was just a weensy bit crooked, from getting punched there once. She wavered between average and good-looking, not quite striking either, with her half-Caucasian face. Aside from that, she had firm curves, presently covered by a black tank top, black Kevlar vest, and heavy camo pants. The vest was larger than the ones you saw on TV, and was blank as well. Thrown in a few scars on her hand and arms, nicks and dents here and there, nails chipped from constant picking, and she had a very accurate portrait of herself.
What she didn’t have, though, was a plan. Now, she’d never been on to really plan ahead, but even she knew it was suicide to run around without some heavy firepower nowadays. The Glock was well and good, but it just wasn’t going to cut it out here. She needed something bigger and better. Something where she wouldn’t have to worry about aiming all that much, just stopping power. She, like every other girl with two bits for brains these days, needed a shotgun.
Finding one was surprisingly easy. The System Store was willing to sell her one, a black military-grade bad boy that could fire both slugs and regular shells for a veryreasonable price. Though listed as a ‘projectile thrower’ it looked leagues ahead of any Earth-made shotgun in terms of design, and from the various videos that came with it, in efficiency and power. Recoil looked like a bitch, though. Well, she was buying. She was a big girl, little stuff like having her teeth knocked out by kickback didn’t deter her.
She immediately brought it, and two entire boxes of ammo. They plopped down in the passenger seat, a brief white flash announcing their arrival in the darkening cab. She grabbed the shotgun, admiring it’s somewhat-bulky, lightweight design, and checking to make sure that loading was as easy as the videos showed. The whole thing had a straightforward, practical look and feel to it. She liked that.
She loaded it up with regular shells, and started slotting the other slugs and shells into strategically located ammo pockets in her vest. She was halfway done when Tommy started pounding on the car’s window. About time he showed up.
Rolling said window down, she raised an eyebrow at him.
“Something the matter, Tommy?”
He leaned against the window, red-faced and panting from his run, or, if she knew him well enough, fast walk.
“You’re a bitch, Clair.”
She just shrugged. “Probably.”
They sat and stood respectively, him panting and out of shape, her loading herself up with ammo. Finally, he broke the silence again.
“I want to come in.”
“So? How many f**** do I gave about what you ‘want’?”
“Please?”
She considered it for a moment.
“Okay. Get in or spend the night out there.” With that, she hit the unlock button.
He didn’t need another invitation. All but diving in, her scrambled into the passenger seat and collapsed into the leather seat, red-faced. For her part, Clair ignored him, Trying to jam more ammo in that tricky-to-reach-while-sitting-down spot.
“I could have died out there! It isn’t safe! There are monsters, what if one of them got me?”
“You were fine. I didn’t see any, and I was the bigger, tastier target. You just had a nice evening jog. And yes, I think you need to do it more often. You’re out of shape.”
“This isn’t funny Clair. I’m serious!”
“And so am I. You saw anything?”
“You’re a bitch! A mean, spiteful, asshole of a bitch!”
“Repeating yourself there. I thought you were supposed to be creative? Or was that just another lie?”
With one last glare, he slumped down in his seat, turning to face the window again. Yep, she wasn’t getting anything else out of him now. When he was in one of his moods, it was best to just walk away and come back when he was done. Well, this was her car, and there were monsters out there. While they might make for livelier and maybe friendlier company, she wasn’t stupid. If anyone did the walking, it was him.
Sadly, he didn’t give her a reason to throw him out, much as she would have liked. And she wouldn’t be that cruel without a reason. She was still a person, and he was someone she’d known. Not liked, but he had been Shanny’s twin. That counted for something, whatever that something was. Spineless he might be, but she wasn’t some kind of monster to leave someone to die. So, she settled in for the night, shotgun in her lap, going through her screen once more.
One of the more useful efforts on this new internet was The Wiki. It was a freelance project, put together by various people, and a whole lot of useful contributors. It was a list of monsters seen and confirmed so far. New listings were always welcome, but would remain on hold until proof could be provided. One of the reasons she wanted to buy a camera add-on for her screen. Still, she added the Garbage Ants to the list, put in the physical characteristics and a note about it’s single-minded behavior, then marked down the Amity County landfill as a potential monster hotspot.
It wasn’t much, but it could still give people a heads-up going in. A few more notes on the effectiveness of guns and it’s speed, and she was finished.
Closing that, she checked her map against her location, and found no listed monsters. So, wither there weren’t any, or the good people of Amity never bothered using the Wiki. Probably the latter. Dismissing that, she brought up her own Skills, and tried tapping them to see if they expanded. No such luck. They were still grayed out. A little research showed they would unlock after she had slept. With a shrug, she closed her screen. She browsed around, trying fruitlessly to find any information on her Class, but couldn’t find anything relevant. It wasn’t on the list of known Classes in the Wiki, so it was either a rare or custom Class. Not that those were all that hot either.
When the System initialized, and the message came, people had gotten Classes. Only, they were handed out at random. A person could get a generic, rare or custom Class, with no discernible reasoning to the rarity. Most generic Classes were handed out based on a person’s current occupation or life choices. Butchers got a Butcher class, soldiers got Soldier, that kind of stuff. Rare Classes were variations that specialized in one thing or other, and custom Classes ignored the rules followed by the former types. She had gotten Dynakinetic, which, as far as she could tell, had something to do with charging kinetic energy. Aside from that, nothing. Maybe her Skills would tell, tomorrow.
Switching off her screen, she dug under her top and pulled out the iron necklace she wore, then gave the closed oval a quick peck and tucked it away once more.
With her nightly ritual done, she snuggled back into the seat, her body heat fighting the invading cold of the desert night and dozed off. Handy skill that, being able to sleep anywhere, anytime.
She woke twice during the night to strange sounds, but the thermal add-on revealed nothing out of the ordinary. She knew better than to get out of the car and look, so she stayed inside, clutching the shotgun and craning her neck to look for anything.
She found nothing and eventually went back to sleep.
She woke up feeling like a million bucks. Clair couldn’t pinpoint it, but her whole body was moving..easier, if she had to say it. Faster, more fluid. Flexing her arms gave her the feeling of having done quite a few more workouts, with her muscles flowing better.
She felt funny. If she had to try and put it in words, it would be that she’d just had the perfect night’s sleep in the world’s most comfortable bed, then gotten up and chugged an entire gallon of french vanilla coffee. In other words, perfection.
The world couldn’t ruin this if it tried. She was all but vibrating in her seat, eager to go and burn off some excess energy. Yanking open the door, she hopped out of the truck, then grabbed her shotgun and slammed the door a little too hard. Whoops. Well, maybe it would wake up Tommy? Doubtful.
Making sure there wasn’t anything in the immediate area, she put her back to the pickup and brought up her screen.
Charge was a curious one. It’s description called it a passive skill, one that charged up kinetic energy while she moved. That kinda explained the feeling of building pressure she was getting in her chest area. It leveled up as she did, providing fractionally faster charging and a larger storage pool for energy. Great, but useless on it’s own. She had an energy pool, neato, but no way to use it.
Burst was for that. It was a pretty straightforward skill, stating that it was for releasing kinetic energy in set amounts. She could use it during the action and get some extra oomph out of it.
Okay, she liked that. A lot. No stupid and potentially dangerous s*** like throwing around balls of fire and melting your own hand off like that one poor sap in France, but something that enhanced her own fighting style. Complimented it, actually.
She really wanted to try them out right now. Really badly. Setting down the gun, she set herself in a centered stance and punched normally. A bit faster than she used to, but all good so far. Then she tried it again, and threw in Burst halfway through.
She was not prepared for what happened. Her arm accelerated in mid-air, going from normal to near-blur in a fraction of a second. A sharp pain from her shoulder told her she’d probably dislocated the her arm. Ow.F***!
…Ow.
Wincing, she staggered back against the car, clutching her shoulder. Yep, dislocated. Thankfully, she’d set more than one broken bone, mostly her own. Gritting her teeth, her grabbed on and popped it back in, getting it over with. Thank God for those self-help classes.
After a few minutes, the pain was manageable once more, and she grabbed the gun and got back in the car. Waking up the still sleeping Tommy took a few minutes and blaring the radio on high, but she managed it. With that done, she scarfed down a tube of nutrient paste while he splurged on a hamburger for himself. So much for saving money.
She left a streak of rubber behind her as she gunned the car off the shoulder of the highway and straight for Amity. Time to find out what the f*** had happened.
