After some time, we emerged from the cave system onto the streets of Chihuahua, Mexico.
I opened my face shield, finally glad to be out of the hot and humid bowels of the earth. We surveyed the terrain. The ruins of the city told an all-too-familiar tale of instant destruction.
Cars stretched out in all directions, parked in eternal gridlock. Their windows shattered, it was easy to peek inside and see the interiors coated in white ash. Clothes fluttered on the wind, having escaped from hastily-packed suitcases.
A large commercial airliner had crashed into a small cantina. The charred fuselage cast a haunting image, as if erected like some sick and twisted art installation for the dead.
We passed through a marketplace where vermin and insects feasted on overturned stalls of rotting food.
I heard a loud, gurgling growl and turned to Gnarltharr.
“Dude, was that your stomach?”
He patted his belly. “Yes. I hunger.”
“Say less. I got some stuff for you right here.”
I righted one of the marketplace tables and called the MRE’s up from my inventory. Sixty metal cans appeared on top of the table.
Gnarltharr studied them for a curious moment, then raised the table, dumping every single last can into his mouth.
I watched as he chewed them up and burped.
“Crunchy… but good.”
He wiped his mouth and looked up at me. “What are you staring at?”
“Nothing.”
----
We continued our trek, passing by a fountain in the center of the city plaza. It trickled thick, black water. I stepped a boot inside and used my armor hydro-conversion pack to grab some water.
I took a few sips as Gnarltharr and I looked around at the carnage.
“Is this what Vylgarian looked like?”
“It is what all planets look like… after the purge.”
I could sense the pain and fury in his eyes. It was a feeling that I shared. Count Basil must have sensed the bad vibes too. He kept his vines close to himself. Nowhere near as active with his taps and gestures.
“I meant to tell you,” Gnarltharr said. “You fought well back there, Slice Of Sam. Even with your toys.”
“Thanks, G.”
“What did you call me?”
He flashed a look that communicated just how easily he could tear my limbs off.
“G. Look… to be honest, your name is kind of a tongue twister. It’s difficult to say. And, I mean… since we’re calling each other pet names now—”
“I am no one’s pet!” He snapped.
“Whoa… don’t be so touchy. It’s a figure of speech. A term of endearment. I mean, I could try others. How about big guy... Fuzz Armstrong… Purple Hercul—”
“ENOUGH!” he shouted.
“Okay. Okay. We’ll stick with G.”
We walked a few paces in silence, before he continued.
“I do not understand your insistence on fighting with cooking tools, but… at least they are handheld blades. This makes you less of a coward than I originally thought.”
I nodded, taking whatever I could get.
G gestured with his arms towards the ruins surrounding us.
“All of this destruction serves as fuel for the warrior. He must feel the pain… so, in turn, he may unleash rage in battle. Guided by his instincts, he must direct his wrath through every slash of his blade.”
“You know, in another life, you could have had a career writing greeting cards.”
“Greeting cards?” He raised a curious brow.
“Yeah, you know what? Never mind.”
----
We made our way through the city, heading towards the scoring zone indicator on the map. We rifled through a bunch of opened equipment trunks but didn’t find anything of value.
The scoring zone was about 20 kilometers away. We were making good time between G’s huge strides and the zippiness of my swift armor.
We found ourselves in a narrow alley when a—
Ghost Detector Alert!
—flashed across my HUD.
“What is this ‘ghost detector’ nonsense?” G asked.
ME: Quiet. It means assassins are near. I programmed ERNI’s environmental sensors to detect warriors using cloaking technology. They’ve come after me a couple of times. All trying to cash in on a bounty from Krivlax.
G grinned.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
GNARLTHARR: It's hard to imagine anyone wanting you dead.
ME: So, I know we’re new to this whole teammate thing, but I gotta say, sometimes I really can’t tell when you’re joking.
“Hmm.” He grunted, drawing his VengeAxe. It extended, double axe blades springing to life.
The Ghost Detector showed six yellow dots. Three approaching us from each side from opposite ends of the alley. We were wedged in the middle, and there was no place to take cover.
SHIIING!
I drew my pizza cutters, facing one direction while G faced the other. At first, I couldn’t see anything. But soon came the shimmer of cloaked forms approaching from the distance.
ME: You see them?
GNARLTHARR: Yes.
Two darted straight towards me while one split off from the pack. Glancing at the map, I saw a similar maneuver unfolding on G’s side. I mentally flipped through my playbook. Run!
Running: Head of the Snake Play.
Identify a Mob Leader’s Weakness.
GNARLTHARR: What are you doing?
ME: Using one of my toys. Watch and learn.
Of the approaching shimmering forms, one of them was suddenly highlighted in red, blowing his cover. Even more, it superimposed a digital crosshair on his left knee, highlighting his weakness.
ME: Got a bad knee, do you?
I zipped forward in the swift armor. The red silhouette took a swing at me with a blade. I ducked underneath, landing a savage kick to his knee with my Stinger Spike Boots. He screamed, his stealth cloaking immediately disabled.
He dropped his weapon, clutching his throbbing knee as the toxin from my spikes set in. I could have taken him out right there, but a warrior kill would instantly disqualified me from the tournament. I holstered my pizza cutters and delivered some jujitsu strikes instead.
I spun around, seeing G about to slash with the VengeAxe.
ME: WAIT! We can’t kill any of them!
He froze.
GNARLTHARR: What?
ME: If we kill these guys, we instantly DNF.
He sheathed the VengeAxe, disgruntled that he wouldn’t get to use it. He proceeded to beat the ever-loving shit out of both assassins on his side.
Count Basil took the opportunity to get a couple of licks in on the ringleader, thunder-clapping his ear holes. The assassin fell to the ground unconscious.
I was so focused on him, I didn’t see the incoming punch that rocked my jaw. I just realized that the entire world shifted 90 degrees and I was on the ground. The assassin stood right over me. He fired a shot at my chest plate.
BLAM!
“AAAAH!”
It hurt like a motherfucker, but my armor held up. I spat out blood.
ME: Okay… that… really hurt.
GNARLTHARR: Tell me again, what fighting style is that where you operate from your back?
I struggled back to my feet.
Count Basil wrapped his vines around the assassin, redirecting his arm as he pulled the trigger a second time. The blast rocketed into the air.
I threw an elbow uppercut through his chin and stomped his foot. He folded to the ground, wailing in agony, clutching the bloody stump.
A refbot appeared and surveyed the action. Amidst the jumble of limbs and strikes, it was hard to make heads or tails of who was committing the offenses.
The refbot’s head swiveled back and forth, and he warbled, calling for backup. Two other refbots appeared shortly thereafter. The three of them held a conference as we continued dealing damage to the assassins.
The lead refbot approached G, blaring its shrill whistle. G used his forearms to perform a backbreaker on one of our assailants. He dumped the body and looked at the refbot.
“Penalty,” it announced, dropping a digital yellow flag at his feet.
“RAOOOOORRR!!!”
G roared with such ferocity that the refbot flew back, bounced off the wall, and rattled along the ground like a trash can. After a moment, the refbot sputtered back into the air, visibly affected by the blow.
It turned towards the other two refbots, which looked at one another and immediately vanished. On its own, the refbot turned back to G, picked up its flag, mumbled, “After further review, no penalty assessed,” and disappeared.
G used his four arms to slam two of the assassins headfirst into opposite walls of the alley. They crumpled to the ground—out cold.
The final two assassins dropped in from above. One of them landed right on top of me, taking me down hard. G simply caught the other, pummeling him with a series of punches.
I wasn’t doing as well. The assassin got me in a choke hold from behind. My health was draining fast. Count Basil was slapping the guy, tugging at his arms, but his grip wouldn’t budge. My health continued to drain. My vision blurred.
ME: A… little… help…
My vision flashed red. My heartbeat thumped.
Warning: You Are Hurt. Seek Cover Immediately!
Suddenly, the assassin's arms ripped away from my neck. I coughed, looking up into the air as G broke both of his arms, snapping them back at impossible angles. The assassin screamed, collapsing to the ground.
All of them laid at our feet—severely wounded, but alive.
“Thanks, G.”
“As one,” he grunted.
“As one,” I wheezed, clutching my sore neck.
I leaned against the wall, allowing my health to recover, watching as G went from assassin to assassin, tapping a button on their gauntlets. Small discs ejected. He pressed them to their chests, initiating DNF teleports for each of them. One by one, they disappeared.
“That’s a clever party trick.”
One of Count Basil’s arms was wounded, dragging limp along the ground. G gently lifted it up, gingerly setting it inside the quest sack to heal. Count Basil reached out with another leaf and embraced one of G’s hands in a conciliatory gesture to end their feud.
“You fought well, plant. Your leaves are more than delicious. They are strong.”
----
We set back on our course towards the scoring zone.
“I must admit something, Deep Dish Sam.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Perhaps your toys have a little use after all.”
“Wait a minute? You actually admitting you’re wrong?”
“I prefer ‘newly informed’.”
“Right. Got it.”
“The Commissioner must consider you a great threat to issue a bounty.”
“I think my very existence is a stain on his record.”
“Yes. And we must use that to our advantage. The longer you survive and the better you do… the more it tarnishes his image. I take much pleasure in the thought of that. We had a saying amongst my kind: ‘Nothing wounds the tyrant more than the favor of a flea.’”
“That’s pretty profound, G.”
“Did you expect anything less?” He huffed.
“Uh, no. No, I immediately figured you as the philosophical type.”
“Hmm.” He grunted.
“I must say—“ ERNI piped up. “I was initially hesitant to endorse this team-up, but after evaluating your group combat efficiency, you make a formidable duo.”
Count Basil raised his leaves in disgust, like “What am I… invisible?”
“I meant trio,” ERNI corrected.
Count Basil folded his arms and shook his approximation of a leafy head.
”Yo-Yo-Yo! Somebody’s trending, bro!!!” ERNI barked.
“What is the matter with your AI?” G asked.
“He’s… a bit glitchy.”
“That is evident. Why have you not put him in for repairs?”
“Yeah, see, there’s a long story about that.”
G waved it off, not wishing to hear any more.
ERNI continued, “It appears your Wormhole live video made it past the censors, bringing much-needed attention to your accusations about the assassination attempts. This has placed considerable pressure on the Commissioner’s office and the Commissioner himself. Here’s a video of his recently released statement.”
A window popped up in my HUD. Krivlax’s icy green face appeared with those squinty eyes and needle point teeth.
“It has come to my attention that some rogue warriors, acting independently and outside of the rules of the ISL Warrior Code, have attempted to harm one of our entrants. Rest assured, my office is fully aware of the situation, and we’re doing everything possible to enforce the warrior code, maintain a dignified championship, and ensure the fairness of our match.”
His statement concluded. He didn’t take questions, merely waving a hand as a gaggle of reporters shouted at him.
“What are your thoughts on SackUpSam?!”
He paused as if he was going to reply, then thought better of it and moved on. The video feed ended.
“You’ve really gotten under his skin,” G said. “I can’t imagine how.”
“I love you too, big guy.”
