《Architect of Dominion (The Darius Kane Chronicle)》 Prologue WARNING SYSTEM MALFUNCTION DETECTED POWER LEVELS FAILING, SYSTEM RESET DETECTED, RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS MALFUNCTION DETERMINED: EXTERNAL, REQUIRES OUTSIDE INTERVENTION EMERGENCY AWAKENING PROTOCOLS ACTIVE TIER 1 UNRESPONSIVEIf you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. TIER 2 UNRESPONSIVE TIER 3 LIMITED RESPONSE RUNNING CHECK SUITABLE CANDIDATE FOUND PER PARAMETERS AWAKENING CANDIDATE ISE1000232897: SEQUENCE ACTIVATED ADMINISTERING TOP TIER EXECUTIVE PACKAGE CLASS: AO001 EXPERIMENTAL CANDIDATE AWAKENING IN 3 2 1 Chapter 1: Silver Commode I awoke that morning to the loud sound of some jet I never bothered to learn the name of. Rolling over and stretching out, I failed to get that pop I was looking for. Need to look into getting myself one of those school chairs. You know the ones, with the attached table in front, perfect for some chiropractic "adjustment." Finally getting dressed and to the only other room in my shitty little home, turning on my computer and searching my empty fridge for something to take the edge off. No luck there. Hard to buy food when you don''t have a job. I''d been interested in all sorts of things, but nothing ever really clicked, ya know. So I spend most my time reading and video games. At least those are interesting and somewhat engaging. Logging into the latest game to level up someone else''s character to pay the bills, I started seeing everything start to pixelate. And no I don''t mean the game I mean my entire damn house. I reached up and poked what should have been my mouse and my hand just went right through it. "Soooo.... that just happened." Looking around, waiting to wake up to reality, everything goes dark and the pain begins. You know that feeling when you stub your toe really, really hard. Yeah, just like that, except you know a bazillion time''s worse. I felt my kidneys going through a blender that sucked them through my intestines, with a lovely side of bone''s being ground and crunched by a wood chipper. Yeah it was awesome, not. Once the pain was gone and I stopped crying and gibbering like a big tough man, according to my ego. I was able to crack my eye''s open to what looked like a glass case covering me inside some sort of Sci Fi meets Mad Scientist scene. There were cables and blinking equipment everywhere, lining the walls, the floors, and well as I said, every-freaking-where. As I finally started feeling my body wake up from the worst case of "arm fell asleep." A voice started talking in my head. Not in my ear, not in the room, not on a freaking screen, in my damn head. Now I''m pretty good with a crisis or strange situation, but a voice in my head, that is not my own, tends to set of panic switches for me. Am I going crazy, maybe I''ve always been crazy, are there other voices, do I want other voices. Finally the droning voice pulled me out of my stupor. ."..RELAXANT APPLIED. CANDIDATE DIAGNOSTICS RUNNING. MENTAL AND HEART RATE FLUCTUATIONS DECREASING. CANDIDATE DEEMED OPERABLE. INITIATING TASK ASSIGNMENT." "Greeting Candidate classified Indentured Slave, class E, series 1000, block 23, year birthed 2897. I am your assigned task management AI, I will assist in your reintegration from Earth Sim 001 to current earth. As we are currently in and emergency state, this will have to be brief. First, this is indeed reality, what you have been experiencing is a simulation to keep your minds from deteriorating. As you were a low class slave your simulation was set to lowest standards required to maintain efficiency. You have missed five centuries of history that leads to our current situation. I will explain at a later date. Currently you are required to make repairs to the thermal energy line connected to this Corporate Resurrection bunker. You have 3 hours before the systems turns offline, killing the remaining humans left in the Earth Sim, also canceling the deactivate signal currently being transmitted to the self destruct system that will quite possible level this entireYou could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. continent. So any questions?" "Ummm...got any pants?" I manage to get out, through shivering teeth. Taking stock of everything, and with my vast knowledge of LitRPG, xianxia, and other currently related stories. I quickly settle my mind, continent destroying crisis first, mental breakdown and padded room later. A bright light flashes, and look at that i now have pants, that is actually kinda cool. Wonder what else that works with. Could try for a steak and a supermodel...Focus, big boom now, fantasies later. "So, how am I suppose to fix this thermal energy thingamajig, not exactly in my wheelhouse, also no idea where it is, where I am, how to get there, etc etc. You know the basic problems with this ENTIRE DAMN SITUATION..." That felt better, not quite maintaining my cool and collected OP guy mindset at the moment. Thankfully, in some sort of RPG style setup, a screen popped up into my vision. A rotating and zoomable map, an experience bar, equipment tab, and other HUD style doohickeys. The AI, I''m gonna call him Al, original I know, started talking again. "Based on an extensive search, this display was deemed acceptable for you. The map will have a marker for the tools and repair locations. The red bar is set as your health, it will update as the situation requires. The white bar, you refer to it as an experience bar, is the level of energy your nanite package currently stores." I tried to interrupt him, but was cut off. Snarky little SOB. "To save much needed time, I will not be going into detail about anything now. Your HUD will be updated as required and your grade out screens will be available when needed." Taking a moment to give the evil eye to a part of the wall I now designate as "SOB AL", I patiently waited for him to continue. "Pulling up your character screen, we can use your energy levels to update your stats and update a simple maintenance and repair skill package to quickly give you the required skills to complete this emergency repair." A screen popped up with me in the vitruvian man pose, slowly rotating. My short dark brown hair, kept in a semi military style, just without the boot high and tight fade. Along with my dark blue eyes, square chin and average nose, where all there. But the massive six pack, and the damn near popeye arms left my eyes almost popping out of my head. Don''t get me wrong, I''ve always been in decent shape, broad shouldered and decent pecs, starting to go soft around the middle maybe. But I''ve never been that in shape before. Once I stopped my Narcissus moment looking at my now Adonis body, I looked over at my new stat screen.
Name ISE1000232897
Strength 2
Physique 1
Dexterity 1
Endurance 1
Intelligence 1
Charisma 2
¡°Your stats are based on an average humans. Strength for example, whereas an average human can lift 150 lbs, you can lift 300 lbs. Each stat is a basic grouping of your current physical self. You will learn as you go.¡± Al droned on, as i was busy counting my abs, I could do my laundry on these things. ¡°Your current energy will allow you to spend 2 points. Each point you bring you to the peak of that stat. As your do not met the requirements for the repair skill you need, the points will be automatically used for the time being.¡± Following that I doubled over and cried and screamed in a very manly way as my brain tried to split itself in half, and the muscle¡¯s on my body convulsed and spasmed. After a bit of time I managed to prop myself up against a wall, and stare hard at ¡°SOB AL¡± wall. Obviously ignoring me, he continued. ¡°Now that the easy part of upgrading your stats to appropriate levels, I will begin downloading the basic maintenance repair skill.¡± And I woke up twitching on the ground again. I swear I will find a body to stuff this AI in, then enjoy myself as I watch him pass through a wood chipper, melt him down, and turn him into a lovely commode. Seeing my Dexterity and Intelligence double helped explain the first bout of wracking pain. Followed by new knowledge floating around in my brain about electrical engineering and other stuff I could care a wet fart about. I stood up, flipped of ¡°SOB AL¡± wall, and started walking towards the repair tools. Chapter 2: Meeting New People Walking with a toolkit in my hand, I started following the route laid out for me to the thermal generator. With a lovely countdown timer ticking away at an hour and twelve minutes and some change. Al hadn¡¯t bothered to talk to me, or respond to the plethora of questions I was asking, which I felt made him a horrible helper. But there was no complaint department anywhere, where ever this was. Finally reaching a giant round Sci Fi looking thing, i pulled open the access panel and checked it over. It looked like some sorta rat, or this world''s equivalent, got inside and damn near gutted it into nest parts. Thankfully with the ever pleasant skill drilled into my brain, it was a quick module exchange and a few wires to repair, before I hit the on switch and the room filled with a loud noise, and a low chest vibrating thrum. I shut the panel, turned around and¡­ ¡°Fuck me sideways, that is a big damn rat¡± I whispered, afraid to gain the attention of ratzilla, who was sadly staring with it¡¯s demonic eyes straight into my soul, I think he found something delicious down there. With some drool and a screech it charged at me. Running and screaming in a clear and very manly falsetto, I reached the hallway and closed the access door, which promptly bulged out in the face of a very angry ratzilla. A lovely piece of art, could probably sell it on ebay for a few bucks. Straightening my spine, and walking back with perfectly dry pants, I made my way back to Al¡¯s wall. ¡°Thermal generator is back online, emergency power levels have reached 20% and stabilized. Job well done Candidate.¡± replied Al when i plopped myself back down and prepared for my epic mental breakdown. ¡°SYSTEM DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE¡± roared through the room. Searching the room like a frightened rabbit...urm I mean a cool and collected badass, Al responded. ¡°The installation has finished is basic checks, and there are quite a few errors. Your Tier 1 and Tier 2 employers have all expired due to mechanical malfunctions beyond are control. System calendar has been reset and environmental scanning has ceased to respond.¡± ¡°As you are now designated as the highest Tier individual, the bases functions and capabilities are now under your command. Some restrictions apply due to security clearance protocols.¡± came Al¡¯s voice from who knows where. ¡°Okay, Al, It¡¯s Q and A time. Where¡¯s this, what¡¯s this, where are you, when is this, what was that rat, why is this tech so Sci Fi, and for the love of god, where can i get a sandwich?¡± I asked, totally keeping my cool. ¡°You are on earth, in an Alpha Corporation Executive Resurrection bunker. Meant to allow the Executive officers and family of Alpha Corp. to survive an apocalypse level event. They have perished due to mechanical malfunctions. You are designated as the highest Tier survivor at this time, and have had all right and privileges turned over to you. This event occurred 500 years after what you know as the Earth Sim.¡± Staring like a gaping idiot at AL Wall he continued. ¡°As for the ¡°giant rat¡± we have no information on current local flora and fauna at this time. Current data infers it is most likely a genetic mutation due to said apocalypse level event. Also, food supplement disks are located in the cabinet to your right in the third drawer.¡± With a surprisingly rather helpful Al, probably doesn¡¯t want to get turned into a toilet, I grabbed some grub. Or in this case algae and cardboard tasting circles. Munching away at those, and ordering my thoughts. I keep coming back to my lack of panicking, gibbering, and running in circles with my pant¡¯s on my head, talking to john and lisa about the other voices in my head. ¡°So Al why am I so calm and not, you know grade A mental?¡± i asked heavily. ¡°A chemical compound was injected prior to your awakening from suspended animation, along with a mild hypnotic to make you more tractable to accomplish your task. It will wear off when you wake up.¡± Well that should be a scary as hell, but I just shrug my shoulders, and decide nap nap time sounds awesome. In which case I promptly started sawing logs.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Assuming it was few hours later, i wake up to a beeping noise, instead of the usual jet sound, rolling over and looking for my alarm clock, I solidly smash my face into a wall. Holding my nose and tears coming to my eye, I look around and it all comes flooding back. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s a side effect of the drugs or my higher intelligence but after a while of rocking back and forth and freaking out, I¡¯m surprising okay rather quickly. Clearing my throat. ¡°So, Al, anything else I need to know about, like a plan or something or how to wake up the rest of these poor schmucks?¡± ¡°Yes, Candidate, we will need to wake up at least 2 more E class indentured servants, to help repair this bunker to a more operable level. Estimations are at least a month for basic systems and to repair the universal Fabricator that is least damaged. We will also need to try and repair the environmental scanners located outside the base, and gain an understanding of local flora and fauna to facilitate the resurrection process. We will also need to increase power levels to awaken more workforce, but that will have to come later.¡± replied Al. ¡°Okay, first, what¡¯s with all this Candidate and indentured servant crap?¡± I asked. ¡°Seriously my name¡¯s not hard, it¡¯s Darius, Darius Kane. Simple, pronounceable and rather cool.¡± Staring at Al Wall again. ¡°Also, where are the rest of these people located, and we have a fabricator, that is awesome, what can it make?¡± Somehow sounding annoyed, AL replied. ¡°As you direct, Darius. These ¡°people¡± are located below you, and are brought this this location to begin the awakening process. Two of them are currently en route to our current location. The fabricator can produce any and all things programmed into it from the smallest screw up to advanced power stations, and we have a large supply of universal stock to make up to 100 of said power stations.¡± Pondering over all the badass things I could make, I hear a swish sound, and like a banks pneumatic tubes a body shows up in my old glass looking case. Sadly, not a smoking hot girl, all I get is a face full view of dude junk. ¡°Could you atleast put some clothes on him Al, staff and berries are not the first thing you should see in the morning.¡± I asked. About twenty minutes later, used to be naked guy falls out of his pod crying and screaming. I think I was way manlier when it happened to me. Apparently Al¡¯s not waiting to juice this guy up as Repair Guy #2. After his forced intelligence and skill download, and a puddle of what I can only hope is tears, the guy finally looks to me with a bewildered expression. A little wave and brief history of what I know has happened, I think he¡¯s ready for a little meet and greet. ¡°So name¡¯s Darius, and this place is hell, or close enough so far. We both used to be broke slave¡¯s for some rich ass hats who done died, and now we gotta fix this place up. Once we wake up another person will jump right on that. But first what¡¯s your name?¡± You know that look, when someone crazy is talking to themselves, probably trying to bite their own ear. Yeah that one. That¡¯s how repair guy looked at me. Shaking hands and looking around, he finally responds. ¡°Yeah, so this is fucked up, and the name¡¯s Chip, Chip douglas, by the way.¡± Chip was your basic lumberjack looking guy, imagine the brawny guy minus all that flanel and boom, nailed it in one. Wait pause, that name is seriously familiar, just can¡¯t quite place it, keep hearing blue knight rules, ehh I¡¯ll come back to that later I¡¯m sure. Once me and Chip settle down, the next person on the ¡°The Price is Pain¡± gameshow shows up. And we have a winner, a very lovely, and extremely well put together woman shows up. I may have hesitated a few minutes before telling Al that she needed clothes. Short brunette hair, almost creamy skin, prominent cheekbones and a cute little upturned nose. A way above average bust, with some seriously wide hips. Just throw her in some overalls and you have the girl next door model meets fitness fanatic. Replay fetal position, screaming and crying, followed by the basic story and several strange looks, and bam we are all caught up. Looking to our new friend, goes by Cassy, stands for Cassidy, get a kick to the nut¡¯s if you call her that though. Learned the hard way. It¡¯s time to dole out responsibilities and figure out, well everything really. Chapter 3: Lions and tigers, and WTF is that? ¡°So, Al, says we have a few things to fix up before we can really figure anything out. Personally I¡¯m hopin for being the only civilization around, but judging by ratzilla in the generator room, I doubt it. Rat¡¯s like that usually come from like New York or something, right? Anyway, I¡¯ll be heading topside to look at these environmental thingies, why you guy¡¯s start on Al¡¯s mile long to-do list. Any questions? No good let¡¯s hop to it.¡± Grabbing a tool kit and running away from everyone at a brisk speed walk, I follow my map to the indicated hatch. Opening it and walking outside, I¡¯m in a massive jungle. Trees that make redwoods look like chumps are everywhere. The sound of some grade A beast¡¯s roaring and probably killing, with a pep in my step, I head to my designated marker to get this shit done, and quick. ¡°Maybe Lady Luck¡¯s on my side today¡­Fuck, I did not say that, Universe, ignore that please?¡± Nothing like jinxing yourself on a wild, freaky planet. A quick tactical look around, with no creepie crawlies looking for a snack, I finally make it to a hatch leading down into the scanner bunker. Again it¡¯s simple module swap and pop, followed by a whirring sound, and were in business. Choosing to ignore looking at everything on the monitor that wants to kill me, I make like my best roadrunner impersonation and book it out of there. Remember Lady Luck, because she sure did. Standing there, eating a lion the size of a car, is a giant freakin troll. Huge, oddly proportioned with long arms, squat legs, a face even a mother couldn¡¯t love, and the trademark tree club. I¡¯m so screwed. Moving like a ninja, I keep heading for the bunker, eye¡¯s glued to the troll. I must smell delicious, because he turned to stare directly at me. With a glint in his eye, and a lion mane sticking in his teeth, he bellows at the sky and start¡¯s lumbering towards me. Moving like one of those old tractor trucks, slow at first but damn can they boogie, he¡¯s on my heels in no time. Diving to the ground and rolling to my right, I feel the whiff of air as that club just missed turning me into pink mist. With troll on my left and forest on my right, guess what I chose. No I did not chose the troll, you moron. Queue an action packed and epic escape scene. I wish, I tripped and fell down half a mountain, i think. I lost count at tree number 3. Opening my eyes with a killer hangover, I look around and find myself in a hole. Screw it, safe enough to go back to sleep. And I did. A loud troll bellow woke me from my not quite slumber. Scraping off mud and leaves, I try dusting myself off, and check my map. Thankfully the map is updated with little red dot¡¯s for things that will eat me. Scanning my location, and knocking on wood, I try activating a stealth skill, or something. Those always show up in the first couple of chapters, right? Ding! Yes stealth, wait no, monster. Fuckin run. Next time I leave the bunker, grab weapon. Note to self, check for mech or mini nuke launcher. Moving through the forest, at a leisurely dead sprint, I catch a fire out of the corner of my eye. Yes, people, time to enter hot fantasy girl. Of course, my lucks not that good. Goblins. Two guys and that could count for a female, I guess. Hearing my rendition of a bull through a china store, they immediately spot me.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Hello, my good Sir, how may we be of assistance?¡± says goblin dude number 1 in a british accent. Sadly, no. Loud chirps and grunt¡¯s followed by arrow¡¯s, and I¡¯m off again. Oh a cave, nothing bad ever happens in those. Ducking inside and praying they can¡¯t track me, I catch my breath. God, does this cave every reak. Swallowing a little vomit, I scope out my new home away from home. Ah hey, it¡¯s Tom the lion eating troll, thankfully fast asleep. By the by, never enter into a dick measuring contest with a troll, YOU WILL LOSE. I¡¯ve seen way to many dude¡¯s jangly bits today. A nearby chirp and the wiz of an arrow, causes me to turn around and see the green man group. A very pained roar that rattle¡¯s me onto my ass, bellows out of good ol¡¯ Tom. Craning my neck over my shoulder, I spot the arrow. Poor Captain Winky has a new addition, impromptu prince albert. With Blood red eye¡¯s he charge¡¯s at the goblin tree, flinging me into the cave wall, and start¡¯s turning goblin¡¯s into ground beef. A few arrow¡¯s and a swing of ye olde club, and the goblin¡¯s beat feet as I groggily make my way towards the cave entrance. I avoid goblin paste guy number 1, and sneak myself out towards the dense foliage. Next thing I know, I¡¯m face to eye with the troll, big teeth coming to grind me down. Panicking, I grab an arrow embedded in his skull. Lady Luck love¡¯s me. I must have pressed it into its brain. It twitched and dropped me as its eyes rolled back and slumped over. Right the fuck on top of me. Screw you lady luck. Using the arrow and strands of greasy hair, I start pulling myself out. Ding! A real one this time. Checking my HUD, my energy has leveled up again. Using my 2 points, I dump one into strength and quickly put the other in physique. Pain, pain, and more mind numbing pain. This better get easier. Pulling up my status screen, I look it over, until my head clears up.
Name Darius Kane
Strength 3
Physique 2
Dexterity 2
Endurance 1
Intelligene 2
Charisma 2
Using my now superman type strength, I start wiggling my way out from under the now dead troll. Heroically, very, very heroically. Taking a breather and resting my hand on Tom, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Then I fall on my ass, followed by another, Ding! Seriously, leveled up again, no way. Checking my HUD, I pull up the flashing little icon of a dude, that was greyed out earlier. Oh Traits. Looks like I gained Troll Skin. Blinking and looking around, I¡¯m about to pull up the nice little tool tip that will tell me WTF that is. When I notice Tom, is now a pile of skin and bones that is quickly turning to dust. Seriously, how did that happen, Al¡¯s got some explaining to do. Ignoring that for now, I check out Troll Skin.
Troll Skin
Trait acquired from baby rock troll. Increased skin toughness and durability from blunt or piercing attacks
Chapter 4: Nanites (Revised) Done playing with myself, I check my HUD and start heading back for the bunker. When I hear some more rustling. Seriously, fuck my life, does this never end. Walking quietly towards the noise, I come across one of the remaining goblins, yeah, going with a she on this one. She has a broken leg and is crawling away, before she spot¡¯s me and her eyes go wide. ¡°Ple...ase...no kill.¡± Well damn, ignoring how this is probably a horrible idea, I pick her up and carry her princess style, trying to avoid the broken leg. Thankfully, she passed out rather quickly. Probably had a hard day of trying to put arrows into my ass. The rest of the trip back to the hatch was uneventful, THANK GOD. Dropping goblinette off with Al, I quickly choke down some lovely nutrient disc¡¯s and light¡¯s out. Waking up with a boot kick to the wonder weasel and his magical nuts, I groan and roll over. Cassy is glaring at me, while she is holding the goblinette. ¡°What did I do?¡± I ask holding my hands out to avoid the wrath that is sure to come my way soon. ¡°What did you do to Gabby?¡± she accuses me. ¡°What, she tried to kill me with arrows, then met Tom the big ass rock troll. I just brought her back because I felt bad leaving her there to die.¡± With that out of the way and Cassys¡¯ trademark glare, I turn to Al Wall. ¡°Al, quick question, I turned a dead troll into dust after touching it, and gained a Trait, what¡¯s up with that?¡± Thankfully Al¡¯s been much more helpful lately, probably because I¡¯m the boss now. ¡°You absorbed his nanites, you most likely came into contact with an open wound and absorbed them all into yourself. The Trait is most likely the main program of said nanites. Based on the scans of the local flora and fauna, nanites have caused dire mutations to everything.¡± Al replied. ¡°Soooo¡­.these nanites, gonna need a rundown on ¡®em Al.¡± I asked. Either I¡¯m super smart, or Al barney styled it, but it wasn¡¯t hard to figure out. These nanites were once globally spread. They integrated into everything. From physical changes to energy requirements. Everything ran on these little guys. Modern day mana. The basic nanite package maintained health, and even had a lovely kill switch that devoured the host, courtesy of our Corporate overlords. The higher Tier package¡¯s had more bells and whistles. You could modify your body and appearance, inject more nanites for more power, even use them to create, basically, magic. Each nanite is useless by itself, but once you have hundreds, then they take effect. The more you have, the smarter they become, almost an intuitive hive mind setup. They can¡¯t really create anything, but they can shift things around and expend energy as you desire. Al¡¯s example was for a fireball. They expend the energy within themselves to cause friction in a localized area, once they ignite the air in a bubble around themselves, you can throw it or explode it, compressing it into a fire bomb. Nifty that.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Apparently, with my higher package experimental nanites, I¡¯m able to absorb others nanites to boost myself. That and I passively absorb the loose nanites in the air. The more I absorb, the more I¡¯ll need to level my body up. Dreams of One-Punch Man flitted across my mind. Al squashed that though. A body can only hold so many nanites, nowhere near enough for what i was hoping for. Thankfully they can be upgraded, better power storage, quicker response, all sorts of things. Only, we don¡¯t have the gear or the know how to upgrade microscopic little robots. Trying to upgrade them without proper testing is a big no-no. Case and point, Old Earth was wiped out by some poorly designed nanites that kept mutating the host, only 1 out of 10,000 even survived the initial mutation. They were made by some rich fantasy story nut who wanted his own little fantasy world of goblins, elves, and beastkin. With less than a million people expected to survive said event, Alpha Corporation, decided to bunker down and rise from the ashes. Didn¡¯t quite work out so well for them. With glazed over eyes, I¡¯m awoken by Cassy saying. ¡°Oh, fearless leader. It¡¯s nice to know what¡¯s going on and all, but what about the injured and in pain goblin here?¡± With the help of Al, we got her resting comfortably in a large shiny medical pod. It guides and supplies energy to the patients¡¯ nanites to speed up recovery. Or something, Al like¡¯s big words. ¡°There Cassy, now can you please stop trying to crush my jewels, I¡¯m kinda attached to them.¡± I pleaded. ¡°Sure, Idiot, just stop being stupid. Like not even asking what I¡¯m good at, or taking a weapon before exploring outside, or you know, exploring the base. Instead of just running around like a chicken with your head chopped off.¡± instructed Cassy. She does have a hell of a point there. Scratching the back of my head, and staring at the ground bashfully, I nod to her. ¡°Your right. We do need more information, on basically everything. You first Cassy.¡± ¡°Before all this, whatever happened, I was in college to become a wildlife biologist. You know, drowning in student debt, living off of ramen. I¡¯d just turned 21, and instead of a nice hangover, I¡¯m probably gonna get killed because of stupid men, like you.¡± I can totally feel the love there. Kumbaya and all that. ¡°Then I¡¯m sure you can have a chat with Al, to make sure we get the right tombstone.¡± Ignoring the burn in hell glare, I turn to Chip. ¡°Good ol¡¯ Chip, what¡¯s your story?¡± ¡°Umm, I grew up on a farm. And, um, I like chickens. They taste good. But, um, stay away from horses, they have a mean kick.¡± Ding, we found ourselves a grunt. ¡°And, um, my Pa always said to be a gentleman, and to watch your, um, words.¡± Chip nods his head and sat back down. Okay, I¡¯ve got feminazi and a brick. World conquest, here we come. Moving on. ¡°Al, please direct our fine friends here to living quarters. I¡¯m sure they would like better accommodations then sleeping on the floor¡± I ask. ¡°There is an entire floor of high class residence¡¯s for you to choose from. There very close and easy to access¡± replied Al. Damn Al. I¡¯ve slept on the cold metal floor twice, and he can¡¯t bring up we had beds just once. Chapter 5: Toys Changing the subject to something really important, I asked Al. ¡°Do we have any cool toys or stuff that goes boom, like guns, or tanks, I¡¯ll settle for a mecha?¡± Al lit up my HUD and I headed to the ¡®Armory¡¯. My eyes lit up, opening the door, which did that cool swoosh sound, I found a room loaded with all sorts of shiny gizmo¡¯s and whatchamacallits lining walls and stuffed in crates. ¡°Yay¡± I clap my hands like a crazy man. I go to pull one off the wall and it clatters to the floor in rusted pieces. ¡°Al, WTF man, did no one know how to make quality goods?¡± All the key components worked, minus a charge, but bolts, screws, and other necessary components were junk. Made from the cheapest materials, that barely held things together. Damn Corporations always trying to save a buck. ¡°Alright Al, I give up, just give me a tour of the bunker. Leave the fabricator for last, I¡¯m going to spend a lot of time making cool stuff. Really wanted a mecha.¡± I pouted, following Al¡¯s guide on the tour of broken toys. Surprisingly, the bunker wasn¡¯t all that big. Let me rephrase that, it was huge, but there were only four floors that were useful. The rest was a sardine packed freezer of unawakened peoplecicles. We had the top floor, located under several tons of rock. There was a command center, which Al failed to inform me of until I specifically asked, a luxury residence floor, a supply depot, and the fabricator floor. The Command Center came with all the bells and whistles. Everything you¡¯d need to operate a small war, from environment mapping scanners, life-sign detectors, and some cool communications gear. The radio was tiny, like crawling on the floor to find it when you dropped it tiny. Al wasn¡¯t to impressed my my imitation of a crab walk looking for it. The residence floor reminded me of those swanky 5-star hotels I could never afford. Canopied beds that could easily accommodate ten people. Those little toilets that squirt water up your bum, bidet, Al informed me. I was also informed each room came fully stocked for daily use, had a drawing room, a waiting room, and like 3 other rooms. There were 20 suite¡¯s located on this floor. So I had room enough for 120 people, with everyone taking a room. Seemed pretty spacious to me. I was sure the future would require me to build a town or something to accommodate everyone still in the deep freeze.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. The supply depot was basically a write off. The weapons and gear hadn¡¯t seen any proper maintenance, or been built with quality in mind. But, yeah for me, we had enough of those lovely nutritional circle¡¯s to last for years. I wonder if lions make for good steak? Finally, it came time to print myself some cool toys. The Fabricator room was pretty empty. Exiting the elevator to the sound of my footsteps echoing for fucking ever, I finally see my new baby. She was a monster. At 200 ft wide, 600 ft long, and 30 ft tall. All shiny metal and bright blinking lights. Apparently, they could build stuff to last, just had to be important. Sadly, with our limited power supply I wasn¡¯t going to get a fully equipped mecha. Let¡¯s see a troll fight, with a robotic size 50, up his ass. Al pointed out I could have a mecha, if I wanted to build it piece by piece, but seriously, that was never gonna happen. At Least not by my hand. Al queued up a priority list that would allow us to slowly raise our power supply, a couple thousand generators to produce the next tier. But that would have to wait until I kitted myself out with all the cool kickass gizmo¡¯s and the iconic leather duster. I started out with a woodlands mottled classic duster to help me blend in the nearby woods, making sure the inside was a reversible winter mottled, since you know, mountains have snow. Genius right. After several arguments with AL, I finally managed a dragon skin body armor, made with alloy¡¯s and polymers Al rattled off, but I didn¡¯t care to listen. Bullet proof up to a .50 caliber round at 200 ft, puncture proof, and flame retardant, with an energy overlay that grounded out electrical attacks. It was beautiful, sleek and badass. No more would I have to feel like a turtle with a modular tactical vest. After Al¡¯s bitch fest about wasting power, I was finally geared to have a chance of survival. From .01% to almost 1% according to Al. A pair of dark brown jungle boots, mottled cargo trousers tucked into em, a frog suit shirt covered by my new dragon skin armor, layered over with a tactical load-bearing vest in black, and my awesome camouflage duster. I almost went with an australian hat, but that felt to fallout for me. As for weapons, I had a knife. Not the crocodile dundee knife, but something you would find in a kitchen, with a little serration. Apparently, I exceeded my power allowance creating everything else. For some reason Al was disinclined to tell me where his core room was, it¡¯s not like I had a maniacal glint to my eyes and a crappy knife to go a carvin. Chapter 6: Sleep is for the Weak Putting thoughts of robotic homicide out of my mind, roboticide? Let''s go with necessary creative dismantling. I headed up to check on casa de AL, and our hopefully conscious goblin. Good news, she¡¯s awake, bad news, she¡¯s angry. At least I think she¡¯s angry. What with all the grunts and chirps and whatever passes as goblinese. I stood there mouth agape, watching a three foot green skinned goblin having a shoving match with an over five foot Cassidy. It was kinda funny, so I may have chuckled, sue me. My faux pas did draw the ire of said arguing women. Again, death glare from tiny green woman, may have elicited another chuckle, but I will never ever admit to that. ¡°Good, your here, now take care of your little pet goblin, I¡¯ve got better things to do.¡± demanded Cassidy. What am I supposed to do with a goblin, and what things to do? Her and Chip have just been wandering around, and eating my food discs. Honestly, how uppity can one women be. I¡¯m no Rico Suave, but I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯ve never done anything to purposefully piss her off. Making women angry at you is a very poor life choice. Taking a deep breathe, before I lose my shit, trying to calm down this situation. ¡°Al, any chance you could decipher what she is saying, or teach me goblinese?¡± I asked. ¡°No¡± Al replied. I¡¯m going to dismantle you and laugh like a mad scientist while I do it. ¡°Okay, then Al, can you explain to me why you can¡¯t help towards a dialogue with our new guest?¡± I pleaded. ¡°It would take me months of effort and related information to understand and translate any language, let alone one as primitive and archaic as grunts and chirps. My program isn¡¯t designed to just magically interpret other languages.¡± Al informed me. Well damn, so much for all those stories about magically knowing other languages. It makes since, but that doesn¡¯t mean it doesn¡¯t suck. ¡°Okay, Al, do we have any other options here? Pictionary? Charades? Unless you¡¯ve got some kick ass nanites with language in them, were kinda screwed here.¡± I ask, pulling ideas out of nowhere. ¡°Actually, we do have a nanite package that can be used to incorporate english into the current indigenous life forms.¡± Al informed me. ¡°Well, Shit on a cracker Al, why couldn¡¯t you have just led with that? Nevermind, I don¡¯t want to hear about how some robotics code or law, prevented you from telling me. Just load her up already, and let¡¯s be done with it. Also, if we have more, load up a few spares into a syringe or applicator, or whatever you future a-holes used. It¡¯s highly unlikely other races speak the same language.¡± I asked. Strangely, when ever a situation gets stressful, I feel a calming sensation spread through me. Might be something to that, I should probably check that out, but it¡¯s probably not that important. While I was busy with my self introspection, some sort of metallic tentacle came out of the wall and sprayed something in the face of our guest. Which promptly led to some sort of seizure. ¡°Dammit Al, I wanted her to be able to speak, not bite off her own tongue. Not much speaking without that, you overrated tin beer can.¡± I swear, Al is starting to make me irrationally angry, and it¡¯s not because of my effeminate little knife. The knife from the fabricator, you dirty, dirty people. I walked over and bent down to pick up our seizing guest, and placed her on the medical pod. Using what little medical first aid they teach in the military to keep her from biting off her tongue with those wicked incisors of hers. Finally strapping her down, for her own safety. I¡¯m not into that BDSM stuff, that I¡¯m sure Cassidy is probably judging me for at the moment. Speaking of Cassidy, I should probably find a way to sort that whole mess out. ¡°Okay, Cassidy, why do you hate me?¡± I asked, as I tiredly sat down on the floor with a cold metal wall against my back. Staring her directly in the eyes.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Who made you the boss, I should be in charge, at least I can organize something. Assuming we can figure out what it is were actually trying to do here. Besides waste power and supplies making ourselves look cool. Have you thought about defenses, weaponry, food, anything. Sure we have some shelter, and those god awful food discs, for now. But what about the future. Seeing that stupid look on your face, I bet you haven¡¯t even thought about any of that have you?¡± Cassidy seethed in anger at me. Shit, she does have a point. I haven¡¯t thought about any of that. Which isn¡¯t normal, I like to plan, then throw out the plan and wing it, cause plans never work. I didn¡¯t even question the transition from some sort of earth sim to reality. Assuming this isn¡¯t some messed up Jack and coke fueled dream. What¡¯s my mission? I¡¯m a Marine, I need a mission to be effective, otherwise I might as well just sit on my thumbs and spin. Okay, let¡¯s take stock first. I have some future bunker with probably some of the last unmutated humans around. An annoying AI, Cassidy and Chip, plus our new goblin guest. What help they¡¯ll be I have no idea. And an amazing fabricator that badly needs power. If this was an RTS, I¡¯d have been zerg rushed by now. ¡°Hey, Al, do we have any offensive tech around the base?¡± I ask, directing my question at Al Wall. ¡°We have environmental scanners and radar, and anti-nanite nets, you would refer to them as force fields. They are designed to keep any unauthorized nanites from entering the bunker. Otherwise, this bunker would have undergone the mutation that led to the current global condition.¡± Al droned on. ¡°So then, no prism towers, or alien ray guns? No wonder our corporate overlords who created this place died. They were penny pinching idiots.¡± I replied, rubbing my temples from a coming headache. ¡°Cassidy, since you want the job, you can have it. Your now boss of the bunker, I¡¯ll look for a crown, or sash or something, really give you that ¡®I¡¯m in charge¡¯ look.¡± I turned toward Cassidy, giving her a bow with my arm stretched out to my side. Just because I need to calm her down, doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m not a snarky asshole. Following a huff and her trademark death glare, she sweeps past me into the hall. Probably off to dictate and what not. Ignoring all that, which is my specialty, I turn back to our now awake goblin. At least she¡¯s not as feral looking right now. Time to dust off my ¡®Diplomacy for Idiots¡¯ and figure out where we stand. ¡°Hello, do you understand me?¡± I asked, staring at my tied up goblin. ¡°W..wh..who ar...re you, Wh...where am I? The confused gobliness asks me. ¡°Good, you can speak, which I assume means you can understand me. My name is Darius, and your in my bunker. After the troll killed your friends, and I killed the troll, I brought you back here to heal you. I can¡¯t let you return to your tribe or home or whatever you call it, unless I can figure out how to make you not remember where we are located. Which I¡¯m assuming Al can do. In the meantime I¡¯ll setup a room for you, and you will need permission to access any more of the base. Attempts to leave the base without permission will result in lethal force. Do you understand?¡± I ask, staring directly into her yellow eyes. ¡°You capture me, make me yours. Fight other female for place of first.¡± She replied with a nod. That crazy girl gleam in her eyes. Oh shit, no. NO no no nonono. Nope, no crazy eyes for me, thank you very much. Sane goblin girl, might be fun. But crazy eyes is a good way to lose body parts in a hurry. I don¡¯t need a shrine built to me, with a hair effigy. That¡¯s how you get stabbed and lose very important body parts. *shiver* I immediately called in Chip to lead our scariest new guest to an available room. As far away from me as possible. She went with surprisingly little fuss, thank god for small favors. I spent the next several hours with Al, going over a build plan for the fabricator¡¯s power generators. It reminded me of those tech trees. We needed a minimum of 1200 small generators to produce a medium, which would double our power supply. We could then salvage the small generators back to the fabricator to avoid wasting universal stock. With an hour per generator, it would take us just shy of two months to even reach the medium generators. According to Al, we could not produce anything beyond 2050 without an antimatter generator. Which was around tier 50. By his calculations it would take well over a year to reach that level, without outside power sources he was not aware of. Sadly, fully built mechs with weapons I¡¯ve never heard of where in that category. Standing up for a good stretch, I mosey my way towards an unoccupied room for a little shut eye. Stripping down and laying on my nice comfy pillow, I let out a long breath and snuggle in for a good night''s sleep. No sooner then my eyes closed an annoying Klaxxon went off directly in my ear. ¡°Warning, sentient life forms detected heading towards our location.¡± ¡°Shut it up Al, I¡¯ll deal with it.¡± I slip all my gear back on, that I literally just took off, and trudge my way towards the bunker entrance. Mumbling sleepily about how I¡¯m going to murder something for interrupting my sleep. Chapter 7: The Pointy End As soon as I reached the hatch, I stopped in my tracks. I turned around and headed back towards the Command Center. It¡¯s never good to go on a hump without some form of communication gear, and whatever else I can manage to scrounge up. Finally, loaded up with a tiny radio, some food discs, and the ever important language nanites. I head out, hoping I won¡¯t need to use my little bitty knife. Walking out of the hatch and down the rocky terrain towards the massive forest, I check my HUD map for the location of our uninvited guests. It should only take me about an hour through dark, creepy woods to get there. Thankfully, I should have another hour or two before the sun sets. Living in a bunker without windows is throwing by sense of timing all sorts of out of whack. As soon as I reached the woods, I hear feet pounding the rock behind me. Readying my knife and turning to look, it¡¯s just Chip. ¡°Hey, wait for me, I can help too.¡± Chip wheezed out. ¡°Nope, Negative, turn right back around and go back to the bunker. I will not take a redshirt with me into the deadly forest of death.¡± ¡°But, I¡¯m not wearing a redshirt.¡± He responded baffled. ¡°You have no combat skills, no weapons or gear, and no idea how to be quiet in the woods. That makes you only useful as a bullet sponge, or whatever weaponry they have...sponge.¡± I inform him. Yeah, that sounds about right. Right? Close enough. Finally, he turned around and stomped back to the bunker, I felt like I stole his lollipop. What with his dejected expression and slumped shoulders. But better that than a tombstone that says ¡®Here lies Chip Douglas, He was a Redshirt and a Sponge¡¯. I¡¯m enough of an asshole to make sure that¡¯s what it says. With that out of the way, I make my trek through the forest. Other than being the main course at an all you can eat buffet, it was surprisingly uneventful. With several hundred feet between me and the supposed enemy camp, I bent down and slathered some mud over my face, to avoid the shine of my skin and to help me blend in. It¡¯s always better to recon a situation, then just walk in and ask to be violently killed. After quietly low crawling up to the camp, I can finally hear the voices. Thankfully there are no perimeter guards. Only a few tents and a blaring bonfire in the center of the camp. Closing an eye, I get comfy and wait to figure out what this is all about. ¡°Hey, zeke, you finish dinner yet?¡± ¡°No, and I ain''t cookin for ya either, ya twit. Make your own.¡± I¡¯m assuming Zeke replied. ¡°But all I got off them demons was a few copper bits, I¡¯ll trade ya for some grub.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll get your share of the slaves when we turn them over, if¡¯n your willing to part with some of that, I¡¯ll consider feeding ya.¡± Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Great, Zeke sounds like an entrepreneurial slaver. Just what we need more of, greedy slavers. I might not be a great guy, but slavers I¡¯m more then willing to introduce to the pointy side of my knife. Thankfully, there not here about the bunker. I should probably just leave them be, not my problem. Preparing to make my slow crawl away from the camp, I¡¯m interrupted by a child''s¡¯ scream. Well, shit, now I have to help. You don¡¯t fuck with children. I catch a glimpse of a huge man wearing a leather roman lorica, dragging a screaming child. My knuckles pop and turn white around my knife. As I keep surveying the area, making sure I¡¯m not missing someone. So far I¡¯ve seen three people, but there¡¯s at least room for 10 with all the tents. Assuming they like living nut to butt. And that giant tent in the center, that the bear of a man dragged the little girl from. Not even contemplating what he wants the screaming girl for, as soon as he leaves the light of the campfire, I make my way after him. I come up behind him, walking slowly and careful not to spook him. Loosening my death grip on my knife and preparing to jump on this mountain of a mans back to slice his throat open. When the little girl looks right at me and asks for help. Of course, this causes my friend the Hulk to start turning around towards me. With no time left, I sprint at him and manage to plunge my knife into his throat. He lets out a startled squawk, but hopeful not loud enough to alert his buddies. I twist my knife, pull back and aim a thrust through his side under his armpit and hopefully into his heart. Sadly, big guy + dinky knife does not equal enough reach. He grabs me by my wrist and yanks my hand away, flinging me towards a tree. Probably dislocating my shoulder before I hit the tree like a broken rag doll. By the time I manage to make the world stop spinning and start standing up, I almost fall on my ass again as he falls to the ground with a big *thump*. Must have cut an artery, small favors and all that. Being tackled by a sobbing child after fighting well outside my weight class, is not all that pleasant. I¡¯m horrible with kids, and crying, and people, and...you know what, nevermind. ¡°You have to go save my Mom and Brother.¡± At least I assume that¡¯s what she asked through the crying and the snot. I¡¯m going to have to wash my jacket soon. Focusing on the area around me, I keep having to shift her head against my chest. She must have some sort of hair clip or something, that keeps digging into me. Finally, pushing her back and brushing her blonde her out of her face, my hand slides across a horn. Wait...WHAT. Upon closer inspection. She can¡¯t be more the 8 years old. Blonde hair, red eyes, horns and red skin. Well, damn, when they said demons, I didn¡¯t think they meant actual demons. This world is so messed up. Standing up with her holding my thigh in a vice grip, I make my way over to the downed Hulk. He¡¯s not breathing anymore, and his glazed eyes are staring up into the sky. Yep, he dead. Checking over his body, I find a short sword and a real knife. I have to take a minute to pause and appreciate a real knife. If I had this before, I wouldn¡¯t feel like I got ran over by all 18 wheels of a semi. After Sending Tactical Equipment to an Alternate Location, namly to myself. I¡¯m now the proud owner of a new sword and belt, plus a Knife*. *[You have to say that with an Australian Accent. It¡¯s required] Unable to disengage from the little demon girl. She¡¯s like a damn koala, she has me in a death grip, and I think she may be asleep, assuming that¡¯s drool now soaking my pants leg. I slowly make my way around the camp, successfully snapping necks or choking them out. Thankfully there were only five of them, and they were not very vigilant. I should probably go check the slave tent, but years of experience and fantasy literature, leads me to believe there is either a boss guy or magical fire throwing d-bag in there waiting to remove my short and curlies. I decided to just sit back on a log and try tonight''s dinner, and wait for death grip demon to release herself from my drenched leg.