More messages popped up.
Achievement unlocked! You just refused help from a top game guide! That was clearly stupid. You’re either going to die very soon or become a runaway sensation. Let’s find out!
Reward: New badge awarded! We don’t need no stinking badges!
When worn, this badge will keep you from winning more badges and nullifies the effect of other badges.
Note. You probably shouldn’t wear this badge.
I didn’t know what all of this nonsense was, but figured that bearded, bald ‘doc had something to do with it. I’d give him a piece of my mind the next time I saw him. I’d much rather have the shakes than some kinda weird running commentary dropping into my field of vision every other second.
I was just going to look in my tent to see if Steel had missed any of my Z when I heard someone call out behind me. “Hey, noob.”
I turned to see two punks a couple paces away in black leather jackets, worn jeans, and shades. Above their heads floated Grix – Level 1 and Brix – Level 1. I noticed the little triangles next to their names, but I didn’t dare focus on them. The last thing I needed while getting mugged was for someone to push a story about the muggers in my face. Brix drew a switchblade and opened it with chink and spoke up with a lizardy voice. “You know the drill?”
“That a question?” I asked.
Smiling and showing crooked, crumbling teeth, Brix slashed at the air a couple times with his switchblade and then sneered as he clicked a button and the little blade started to spin.
I’d grown up on the streets, and I’d never seen a pocketknife with a spinning blade. But the city hides a million secrets. What burnt me was that these guys were breaking The Code. That is, don’t mess with someone on their own turf. This was my home. If I’d seen a switchblade turned electric drill anywhere else, I would have taken flight, but I was standing outside my tent. I kept a special surprise for people that tried to mess with me while I was in my tent.
As Brix lunged, switchblade whirring like a possessed electric toothbrush, I pulled my trusty baseball bat out from the opening to my tent and swung like I was aiming for the fence past left field. When I connected with his head, several things happened at once. The punk made a pathetic screeching sound as he fell to the pavement, a health bar appeared over him that dropped from green to nothing, and I received more messages as the skin on my temple suddenly began to burn intensely.
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New achievement unlocked! You got a kill! Woot! I’ll be honest, I didn’t see that coming after you sent your game guide packing. But good on you!
Reward: You got a Gold Loot Box!
New achievement unlocked! Louisville Slugger! You notched a kill with a baseball bat! Who do you think you are, Barry Bonds? That guy was trying to kill you, and you gave him the business instead!
Reward: You received a Bronze Weapon Box!
P.S. Don’t you feel special?
More messages tried to pop up, but I noticed another one of those dot triangles, focused on it, and made the words disappear just in time to see that Grix had picked up the drill switchblade and was springing toward me, teeth bared and a mouth full of curses.
“Didn’t you see what I did to Brix?” I tried for another home run, and I was sorely disappointed. My bat sailed over Grix’s head. The force of the swing spun me around, and on the second time around the bat connected with the switchblade drill with a thunk.
“You ruined my bat!”
Grix snarled and rushed me. I tried to twist away from him, but he tackled me, grabbing my legs and knocking me to the pavement. I dropped my bat to keep from faceplanting on the ground. Before I was able to get back up, Grix had my bat in his hands and an evil look in his eyes.
I pointed down the street. “Just take a hike, man. Because when I get up, I’m sending you into your very own zip code of pain.”
“Zip it!” Grix yelled as he drew the bat over his head and moved to strike. But luck was with me, because Grix tripped over Brix, and my baseball bat clattered to rest in front of my feet. I jumped up, snatched the bat, and brought it down on Grix’s head as if I were splitting wood. One shot was all it took.
I sat down, shaking from the fight. In a lifetime of living on the streets, I’d seen people die, and I’d had my fair share of scrapes. Grady, a Z user that we used to score with, was so high one morning that he staggered into the road and got hit by a passing car. That was it for Grady. The driver never even slowed down. And I’d had knives pulled on me. I’d been shot at. But I’d never killed anyone, at least not until those BioZone fools showed up.
I looked at Grix and Brix, their heads caved in, and was starting to feel really bad about what I’d done when I noticed neon glowing stars hovering over both of their bodies. As I looked at them, a small box popped up with a list of their junk. Grix had a broken flashlight, dead batteries, a half-eaten candy bar, two credits, a track suit, and poorly fitting boots. Brix had the exact same stuff. Below the list I saw options to loot all, discard all, or select individual items. I took the credits from both bodies and left the rest. Then, at the bottom left of my vision, the word Inventory popped up. I clicked it and saw how many credits I had—four—and an otherwise empty list. It struck me then that the bald doctor hadn’t messed with my vision, he’d put me in a video game. I looked at the dead bodies outside the tent and felt increasingly uncomfortable. People die in this video game, and it didn’t look like they respawned.
