"There's something really cool about a visually stimulated mind, y'know, it's like a TV GUI only fifty times better. It records in HD, and it keeps all the emotions too. Emotions, textures, smells, tastes, it's all exotic and beautiful, and so fragile."
Grean Overseer, in a casual conversation with Builderman
Lump. Lump. Lump. Lump.
Helen's footsteps echoed dully in the hallway. Behind her was Uuom with a Pancor Jackhammer slung over his shoulder, and John to Uuom's left with a pistol. Uuom, prior to this, had to be woken up with a forceful jet of water to the face; he had been so hung-over from the Devil's Loo drink he had imbibed on launching day that he fell into a long and deep coma, and awoke with a frightful headache.
They were looking for Corporal Gillysuit, the confirmed traitor and the partner of the man who had shot Jack.
Jack. Jack was in even more of a critical condition the last time they had checked. But according to Doctor White, the Blocklandian master physician Builderman had hired as head of medical staff, Jack was emanating strange mental activity. It was as though he was trapped within a nightmare or lucid dream, but Doctor White couldn't create a clear digitization of the mental image.
"It Is Unfortunate He Is In This State," the doctor had commented. "The One Place A Man Should Not Ever Be Trapped Is Inside His Mind."
Helen looked ahead at her, and shifted the assault rifle she had slung over her shoulder slightly, bringing it to a forward position. The rifle was a standard issue FEAR weapon, the G3A3, a formidable ally in any tight combat situation.
"If any of you see or hear anything," she whispered, "tell me what direction it's coming from or point it out. Got it?"
"Yeah," Uuom grumbled.
"Got it," John said.
"Good," Helen replied.
"Yup," Uuom continued.
"Uh-huh," John added. "Yes indeed."
"Undoubtedly," Uuom agreed.
"Will you two shut up," Helen hissed.
"Tahlia reporting," said a voice from Helen's pocket. She jerked out the walkie-talkie and held it up to her ear. Tahlia sounded bored. "I just saw a movement in one of the air vents. Heading your way, Helen. Over."
"Acknowledged," Helen said, and deactivated the walkie-talkie. She ordered a halt and stood, looking around.
There was a scuffling in the vents.
"Ready?" Helen whispered.
"Ready," everyone else replied.
A grate in the wall rattled. Helen slowly began to pivot as the screws began to unscrew in the metal frame. The thing fell away, revealing darkness beyond. Then a long-fingered red hand emerged, followed by a skeletal, featureless face. In short order a Void Monster was standing in its entirety in the corridor, and another one was swiftly emerging.
"He must have patched in a colony," Helen exclaimed. "FIRE EVERYTHING!"
As the Void Monsters screeched, Helen, Uuom and John opened fire. Bullets shredded the silence, left holes in the walls, and killed multiple Void Monsters. But for every monster they killed, exponentially more of them emerged from the wall. And they were adapting to the bullets, like some sort of sentient computer network that learned from experience. The newest batches had progressively stronger and stronger armor. Eventually the defenders realized it was virtually useless to fight these invincible horrors.
They retreated out of the hallway into the large room that had preceded them, a dining area. Already the Void Monsters were beginning to emerge from the room's grates. The few remaining patrons were dashing for the exits, but there were too many Void Monsters and they overwhelmed the refugees. Then they closed in on the defenders. Helen began to fire madly, and so did everyone else, but it was no use. They got closer, and closer, and closer. The foremost one reached for Helen, grasped her, pulled her close, raised a taloned hand. The claws raked down her cheek, and she was about to scream when a glow of orange disrupted the vision. The Void Monster holding her let go, and collapsed, beginning to blister uncontrollably.
Behind the rank of Void Monsters was captain GoldBC, with a Void Lamp clutched in his hand.
He bore a path through the attackers, took Helen by the arm, helped her to her feet, and held the lamp by her face until the venom of the Void Monster's claws had evaporated away. Then he stood her upright, and then held aloft the lamp again. Smoke and the smell of burnt hair filled the room.
"Hurry, we gotta find the spawn area!" Gold shouted.
"What if there are multiple ones?" Uuom asked. "I'm not ready to die yet!"
"I've got a Void Lamp," Gold replied, "there's nothin' to worry 'bout!"
"Oh, bullshit," John muttered as they followed Gold back the way they came.
OOO
It began to rain in Jack's subconscious. The sky was gray, and covered in dark clouds like a fleece blanket. Large droplets thundered onto the pavement, and onto the arriving bullet train, which ground to a halt in front of the station. Jack, his other self sitting beside himself, watched the doors open and passengers begin to stream out.
"The bomber's in this crowd," the other Jack said.
"Can ya help me out a bit and tell me where?" Jack asked.
"Only you, with the opening mind, can detect the killer," the other Jack answered.
"So that's a no, is it?"
"Er... yes, it's a no."
"No?"
"Yes - er, I mean no."
"Maybe?"
"Just find the guy," the other Jack snapped.
"Right," Jack muttered, "right, yes, ahem." He stood up from the chair and, trying to look inconspicuous, surveyed the crowd. The stream was filled with denizens of all shapes, sizes, and colors. The rain swept into the room through the sliding doors, scattering water across the floor in tiny tsunamis.
Where could he be, Jack thought. Now, let me think. Back to the report of the attack, oh yes, and here we have a picture, yes, and it's of the burnt station... Yes. And the reporter's describing the alleged bomber from the security camera footage... um... how? Tall-ish, he's saying. A blond. Long hair down to his upper back, er, or something. Blond or chestnut. Hazel? No, maybe auburn or ginger. No, it was blond, maybe dark blond. Yes. The man's body type... er, 2.0.
There were many people amongst the crowd who fit that description. Jack scanned it more intensely. The people numbered in the hundreds that swarmed off that bullet train.
Then he saw someone that looked a tad more guilty than the rest of the horde.
The man's physical appearance fitted perfectly with not only the reporter's description, but also the security camera footage itself. He wore a rugged brown leather jacket, scuffed khaki long pants, and white sneakers. In short, the man looked like a traveler with a checkered past.
"HEY, YOU!" Jack shouted. Several people turned and looked, but the traveler man resolutely kept looking forwards. "YOU, YOU," Jack shouted again, this time making a dash for the traveler man. The man, frightened, bolted. "TAKE THAT MAN!" Jack ordered the security guards stationed at the scanning station up ahead.
One of them looked over skeptically. He was the one holding the scanner itself. He had an M1 Garand slung over his shoulder by its strap.
"Uh, sir, I don't even know you, so you can't give me orders," he said. "We ain't the police. Fuck the police! You go grab him."
"Yeah, screw 'em," said the other one.
"Fine, you're gettin' the first budget cuts, you sorry bastards," Jack muttered, and sped off in pursuit of the fleeing traveler man.
The traveler man bolted into a convenience store with brilliant white lighting, just off a row of lavatory doors. Jack followed close on his heels, accidentally smashing through a display of bottle green glasswork; he kept on running as the traveler man vaulted over the store counter, removed a Glock from his pocket and pressed it up against the clerk's head.
"Give it up, copper," he wheezed. "Or the dude gets it."
For a split second, the face of the traveler man was one and the same with the face of Arthur Ipecac.
"That's a bad idea, sir," Jack said calmly, reaching for his gun holster. But he remembered the shiny gun was conspicuously absent, and instead he felt the smooth grip of his shoddy regulation RPD pistol. This pistol was so lousy in terms of accuracy that a man aiming for a headshot would land one in the guy next to him. Jack sighed, and brought the pistol out. The traveler man laughed. But the laugh seemed more forced than anything.
"You'll threaten me with that thing?!" he sputtered. "Admin, gimme a freakin' BREAK!"
Jack made sure to put a little extra shake in the pistol; for that would distract the traveler man enough to completely ignore his other hand reaching for the stun baton hanging at his left hip.
"Alright, what are your demands?" he asked, to divert the man's attention. From the traveler man's chokehold, the storekeeper whimpered.
"I demand for you to let me go free!" the man shouted.
Jack nodded. His left index finger slid across the ridged rubber handle of the stun baton.
"Sounds like a... reasonable... demand, sir."
The traveler man suddenly became cocky, and a grin flashed upon his face.
"Uh," he continued, "uh... and also, FIVE THOUSAND ROBUX! And ninety-nine Tix."
"That also sounds reasonable," Jack agreed meekly. He found leverage enough to stealthily begin to slide the baton from its sheath.
"And a free house on Admin Island with a view of the ocean, and a Robloxaville Bank Account where I can funnel my assets, and a yacht, and an exotic car, and a solid gold helicopter, and-"
"Accepted, accepted," Jack said, raising his hands plaintively. "Fine, fine, fine. Just release the dude and maybe drop your weapon and I can let you go about your-" at which point he suddenly flashed forward and hurled the stun baton point blank at the traveler man's head. The weapon struck, and the traveler man fell wildly backwards, limbs flashing alternately blue, white and black with electrical charge. The man's Glock discharged wildly into the ceiling, and soon after there was a ringing silence except for the crackle of shattered plaster.
Jack lowered the gun.
"Boy, you sure nailed him," said the other Jack.
"Is he dead?" asked Jack.
"Not yet, but that's a pretty nasty concussion, and the electricity in the stun baton probably didn't do him any good."
"So I've recovered?" asked Jack. "This is my 'recovery'?"
"Technically," answered the other Jack, "this is an early recovery. You may feel some small pain."
-OOO-
HEART RATE: LOW
Dr. White sighed.
"Inject Another CC Of Accelerant," he ordered his assistant. "This Stubborn Clod Of A Body Cannot Comprehend Anything We Throw At It."
HEART RATE: MEDIUM
Dr. White did a double take.
"And Do A Diagnostic On The Health Bar," he suggested, keeping his eyes on the screen. "It Runs On Studio 2013, So It Is Broken As..."
"Sir," the assistant gasped, "the health bar isn't lying."
"Wait, So Did We Just Inject A Perfectly Healthy Man With Fifty CCs Of Accelerant?" asked Dr. White incredulously.
"Yeah, just like the Bloxburg incident, sir," the assistant said.
HEART RATE: HIGH
Jack's eyes snapped open. Dr. White saw that the pupils were dilated, and the iris' color was more reddish.
"Oh Shit," he suggested.
In a flash Jack tore out of his bindings and sped out of the operation room.
As he ran, Jack took no notice of the fact that he was shirtless, nor the fact that there was a blood-soaked bandage wrapped bandolier-style around his wound. He was overwhelmed by the power of the accelerant.
-OOO-
Tahlia tried to resist the flood of Void Monsters, but it was slowly but surely overcoming her. They pressed against her portable mini-shield, and the green laser field that comprised it blotched and crackled. She raised her walkie talkie to her mouth.
"Helen, I need backup, and more shield power!" she ordered.
Dead static erupted from the other end.
"Helen?!" Tahlia tried.
Static.
"Dammit," she swore, throwing the walkie-talkie down and blasting a few heavily armored Void Monsters, pushing them back but otherwise doing no damage whatsoever. There was no other way to end this, she decided, but with explosives. She unclipped a grenade from her belt, and hefted it in one hand. Looking at its shiny surface, she saw her face reflected in the metal.
Her left hand closed over the pin.
At that moment, something red hot and fast as lightning flashed through the door, splinters of iron flying everywhere. The thing darted in between the Void Monsters, and they seemed to be pulled down from its wake. As Tahlia watched, it darted to the side, reached straight through a wall in a scream of tortured metal, and tore it asunder, entering and reappearing with a struggling figure clutched in its fist. The figure looked like Gillysuit, the soldier who had shot Jack. And the thing that had grabbed him was the man he had shot.
Tahlia stared. Jack looked different, and there were still bandages wrapped around his torso. He was shaking Gillysuit violently, and emitting a low growl.
"Where's the generator, asshole?" Tahlia heard him ask.
"I-in my pocket!" the soldier whimpered.
"Goodie."
Jack reached into Gillysuit's right pocket, and brought out a small cylinder. With one movement he smashed it against the wall. Sparks flew from the damaged machine, and the Void Monsters began to flicker. Tahlia saw the one nearest to her spit and crackle like a TV with the cable in need of repair. She dropped the personal shield, and stood and watched as the Void Monsters vanished from sight with an ethereal howl. That left her, Gillysuit, and Jack, standing in a small radius of destruction. Through a hole in the wall to her left, Tahlia could see the blur of stars rushing past; Jack's entrance had sheared a hole right through a solid steel wall two meters away.
"Sorry," Jack said, turning to Tahlia. "I think someone overdid it on the anesthesia."