I should’ve realized it earlier. She’d called me “boss” when she swiped my class, but I thought she was just being insolent. I frowned at the memory. “Wait, you knew it was me and you still zapped me, or whatever you did?”
She folded her arms, which were smeared with neon paints. “Yeah, you clearly didn’t know what you were doing, and you weren’t gonna help me or anyone but yourself. I saw what you did to Debbie.”
I blinked at her. “Who the fork is Debbie?”
“That lizard person? The one you curb-stomped to get your initial class? That was Debbie from accounts receivable at Ascendant Games.”
“That was a chick?”
“And you got a unique drop, so yeah, I did what I had to. But I didn’t just leave you there. I dragged you into that coffee shop for safety.”
I curled my lip. “The NPC said he dragged in there… what a liar. Probably looking for a handout like those bums on Eighth and Seaboard Ave. Fibbing politicians. And how do you class steal, by the way? I can’t get an answer from anyone, and no one else I’ve seen can do it.”
“Look, we’ve got other problems, as you’ve undoubtedly noticed,” Sync said. “We can’t hang around and chat. We need to get into the plant, locate Dirk and Stecker, and find a way out of this mess. I can explain anything you want while we work—well, the best I understand it, anyway.”
I looked her up and down, wary. “How do I know you’re not gonna just… class-zap me again and leave me for dead?”
“How do I know you won’t stab me in the back?” She tilted her head, and her eyes traced my rifle. “Or… bludgeon me? I’m choosing to trust you because of what you just did. For what it’s worth, I promise I won’t ‘class-zap’ you again… especially since you’re just a rickshaw driver. But regardless of that, I need your help, and if you want to get outta here, you need mine.”
Silas tapped his chin area in contemplation. “She seems trustworthy, maybe… which is more than I can say for you, mate.”
She eyed Silas, and a smirk formed on her lips. “Who’s your friend? He’s adorbs. A Karjok, right?”
Silas’s ocean eyes brightened. “We can absolutely trust her. She’s officially my favorite human.”
“You simp,” I muttered.
“My dear, pay no mind to this hull barnacle. You’ve been injured; allow me to heal you as a sign of trust.”
“I’d appreciate that,” she answered. He flung himself from my shoulder to her shoulder, and I waited for him to slap her in the face. That would at least be funny.
Instead, her HP climbed as he sat on her shoulder and did absolutely nothing else.
“What the—how come you’re not slapping her?”
“You really are an uncultured savage. I don’t know what kind of backwater bog you grew up in, but my mother taught me never to hit a lady.”
“No, I mean when you heal me, you slap and hit me, yet when… oh, never mind.”
She chuckled as Silas finished healing her.
“Such a gentleman. Here.” She extended her arm, and Silas slithered back onto my shoulder. Sync looked me up and down again. “I’m probably gonna regret asking, but… why aren’t you wearing shoes? Or pants?”
“Because you stole my class.”
“I mean, why are you wearing those boxers?”
“I provided them to our friend here,” Silas said. “You should’ve seen him beforehand, running all around town with naught but a tiny censor bar to cover his—”
“Alright, alright,” I cut him off. “I think she gets the idea. And the censor bar was not tiny.”
Silas shrugged. “It weren’t big neither, mate.”
She gave me a sly grin, then she motioned for me to follow her. “Make sure you pick up each of their loot drops.”
I’d forgotten about that, but when I’d taken out the kidult playing Painbow Seven, he’d left behind most of the gear I now had equipped. In searching the areas where we’d taken out the Godfeathers, though, we found next to nothing.
Three of the four hadn’t even dropped loot crates, and the fourth, dropped by the Falcon guy, only contained some AllCash, which Sync scooped up before I had the chance to grab it.
“Why didn’t they leave anything else behind?” I asked.
“I’d guess their guns and bats were tied to their classes. You can’t loot class-specific items,” Sync replied.
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Though it made sense and explained why I hadn’t been able to grab the kidult’s boots or his gun, which had just dissolved when he’d died, I still scoffed at her. “Well, you sure as spell did, Sydney.”
“That’s different,” she said without giving any further explanation. “Also, don’t call me by my real name in here, although I’m amazed you even remember it. Call me Sync. And you shouldn’t use your real name, either.”
I huffed. “Why?”
“It helps hide who we are. Those Players were hired to take me out. If I’m right about who’s responsible, it’s as bad as I thought, and our problems are doubled.”
I rolled my eyes. “Cryptic and ominous, much?”
“Oh!” Silas flailed his tentacles from my shoulder. “If we’re doing code names, I want to be called… Silas.”
I blinked at him. “That’s already your name, idiot.”
“And I’m right proud of it, but you’ll notice I said it differently than how it’s normally pronounced. Silas. Honestly, pay attention, mate. Or, no… call me Ark! Now that was a stand-up bloke and a true friend. I wonder if he ever saved his world?” Silas narrowed his ocean eyes and jabbed a tentacle at me. “I know the perfect codename for you: Caliban. You remind me of him so much, it sickens me.”
I followed Sydne—Sync back to the exterior metal door leading into the water treatment plant. “What are you blabbering about, Silas? On second thought, I don’t care. This place is stupid, so it doesn’t matter. Call me anything you want.”
Silas’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of responsibility. Okay… how about ‘Rickshaw?’”
“Anything but that.”
Silas waved his front two tentacles, as if presenting a great idea. “‘The Shaw?’ Oh, ‘the Big Shaw!’ We need a business logo. And a slogan. ‘Have a ride on the Big Shaw,’ or… ‘Get Rickrolled?’ No, no. Oh! ‘Let’s roll with Shaw of the rick variety!’ ‘Have a roll in a rickshaw… fancy a roll?’ Or what about ‘the Shaw of Iran?’ ‘Iran with the Shaw?’ Maybe the ‘Shaw-Rick Redemption?’ Hmm, I’ll think of something.”
Sydney glanced over her shoulder, wearing a puckish smile that suited her. “You really have an Odd Couple thing going with him, don’t you? How did you even get a Karjok as a companion? They’re hard to befriend and slow to trust, and you’re… you.”
Silas’s eyes sparkled with joy. “She’s a delight, mate. Don’t tick her off. She gets me.”
“C’mon, Sync. Not you, too. I thought you, at least, would have maintained some level of sanity since you’re actively trying to escape this nightmare. Speaking of which, can you explain what happened? Actually, forget that. Can you get me out of here?”
She inspected the water treatment plant door. A keypad mounted to the side of it glowed with red light, and she frowned. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, when I was about to leave her behind to go inside. From the looks of it, I probably couldn’t have gotten the door open anyway.
“I don’t have the keycard, and we don’t have the time to look for it. More hit squads might be on the way. Let me just…” She began fiddling with her WHIM which beeped and booped with each manual command she entered. “Suffice it to say, I don’t know exactly what happened here or why. I’ve been working to figure that out, but I keep running into dead ends every time.”
“Is this what you tried to warn me about before the AllVerse went live?”
“No.”
Relief filled my chest. I hated to think that I’d somehow caused all of this by rushing to launch. I was just being decisive, protecting my company’s interests, and all that. Knowing that my actions hadn’t inadvertently led to this disaster took a huge load off my—
“This is much, much worse,” she added.
“…oh.”
Sync finished typing in a code on her WHIM, and the door chimed. The keypad switched from red to green. She pushed it open, and I followed her inside, wondering how she’d done that and if I could do it, too, though I doubted one of my rickshaw-specific upgrades included “hacking.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Silas muttered while we walked the concrete halls lined with piping.
“You don’t say. So, what is going on, exactly?”
“We don’t know for sure. Only theories,” she continued, “but I can tell you it’s not normal.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
“It’s as though we’re physically trapped within the AllVerse, almost like it’s an alternate universe. Not that that’s what it is, but I have no other language to describe it. If I tried to, it would all be conjecture. I was afraid of what could happen… but I never could’ve imagined this.”
“Okay, that’s a segue into my next question. What happens to Players who die and don’t have multiple attempts in whatever game they’ve chosen?”
She halted her stride and cast her gaze downward.
“We… don’t know that, either. But they don’t come back, as you’ve noticed.” She paused and looked at me for a moment. “Have you been mortally wounded yet?”
“Only five or six times.” We exchanged concerned looks. “Trust me—it’s not great.”
“Assume the worst, and don’t die,” she instructed. “I suspect the real world is still moving on out there, minus over a billion people.”
We descended a long set of switchback stairs and arrived at another heavy metal door, although no keypad existed for it. Sync inspected it then grasped the handle and tried to pull it open, but it was locked tight.
I opened my mouth to ask another question, but everything she told me just incited more questions.
“Hold on.” She pulled up her WHIM again, but paused and twisted her face in confusion. “What? Why isn’t this door accessible?”
I folded my arms. “Problem?”
“I can’t select or hack this door, and that’s not normal.”
“Oh, oh! Let me try.” Silas heaved himself at the door and suction-cupped to it. “I bet you need to speak the Karjok word for friend…” He cleared his throat and declared, “Friend Brando!”
Silence ensued. The door did not open.
“Well, I’m knackered for trying.” He slithered down to the ground and lay in a heap of tentacles.
I frowned. “You tried one ridiculous thing.”
“And it was bloody difficult. Now I’m having a rest. Don’t see you making any contributions.”
Sync stifled a giggle and kept working to find a solution.
Silas rubbed his chin area, then reached out and knocked—a soft, squishy knock.
After a moment, a male voice sounded from the other side of the door. “Oi? Who goes there? Bugger off!”
The voice had the same accent as Silas, and I groaned. I knew what that meant.
Sync flashed a smirk. “Oh, that’s why. It’s a dialogue door.”
“Hey, that sounds like Will!” Silas lit up with excitement. “Oi, Will! It’s your mate, Silas! Let us in.”
“Silas?” the voice replied. “Well, I’ll be a sea-monkey’s uncle. We wondered where you’d drifted off to.”
“You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to endure.” Silas gave me a side-eye.
“Yeah, give us a moment, chum,” Will said.
Silas bobbed excitedly. “We’ve found them! Oh, Neptune smiles upon us. That was easier than I thought.”
With gratuitously loud clinks and clanks the metal door swung open, squealing on its hinges. At the sight of the interior, my mouth dropped.
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break--Royal Road. They call us the Critical Hitters.
In the desolate desert of the North American Sector, the government harvests the Soul Energy of siblings Eos and Maxima in secret.
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A grizzled ex-mech pilot is drawn back into the Everwar, a decades-long conflict raging across Jupiter’s moonscape.
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Dungeon Crawler Carl Audio Immersion Tunnel for Soundbooth Theater, and he's the lead writer for the Dungeon Crawler Carl Role Playing Game.
