《A Mixed Bag》 Bob the rescue Bot My name is Bob and I''m a bot. Strictly speaking I am "Search and Rescue Robot MK 3TM-808", but people call me Bob. I''m not exactly a super hero, but... Well, I can fly; I can hover in place; I can see through solid objects (except lead, I HATE LEAD!); I can dig through concrete at a rate of 20m/minute with a combination of mining lasers and a Mono-crundium reinforced drill; I can lift 6.328 Tons with my 3 quad-claw lifting arms, and my 6 "Rescue-Tentacles (TM)" can lift 250 Kilos each; I can "hear" a heartbeat from 100m. I also can survive having a skyscraper fall on me. That part wasn''t actually part of my design specs, I found it out when it happened... Commander jerk face (actually named "Captain Handsome") dropped one on Super Soda-Pop (she can make the sugar in liquids explode like dynamite! The more sugar, the bigger the bang). I was at street level, helping evacuate civilians, when the building fell.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. As I''m sure you can guess, I was very upset at the fact that the building fell on me. I mean, there I was, getting little Johnny and his mum out from under the demolished escalator, when BOOM! the entire ''Scraper fell on me. Man was I mad. Anyway, I dug us all out of there, and tried to get back to my job. But NOoooo... Commander poopy-butt had more plans. I''m digging out some more people, having detected their heartbeat, and he drops ANOTHER ''Scraper on me! Talk about rude. THERE ARE LAWS ABOUT ATTACKING RESCUERS! Even the League of Evil Villains (LEV) has rules about this. Jerk. I know what I did next wasn''t exactly legal, but... I threw a 4 Ton chunk of reinforced ''crete at Commander Douche-Canoe. Hit him right in the back of the knee...well it was supposed to be the knee. It might have actually been his crotch...and hips...and thighs...and, well, you get the idea. Anyway, he fell down. Knocking down YET ANOTHER building... Then I had to dig him out. -Excerpt from BOB, the rescue bot, a memoir. Bob the rescue bot chapter 2 - A court case A court case? Why do I have to take part in a court case? I¡¯m a 4-ton Rescue Bot MK3! And how am I supposed to get into a courthouse? At the size of a small compact car, I certainly can¡¯t fit through the door. Maybe the carport has a wide hallway? My name is Bob, well technically "Search and Rescue Robot MK 3-808". And I have been called as a key witness in a civil suit. Aside from my concerns about how I¡¯m going to fit into the court room, I also have to deal with lawyers. I HATE lawyers. Especially the lawyers from Dewy, Cheatem, and How. I swear they got body-sculpted to look like sharks. That ain¡¯t natural. I don¡¯t care what their lawyers say. ----- Super Soda-Pop was worried. She was nervously sitting in the defendant chair as Captain Handsome''s attorney droned on and on about civic responsibility and duty. She sat, her lawyer next to her, and waited. ------ I need to give testimony about what happened at E&P on the 21st of last month. Shouldn''t be that hard Bob thought to himself. I¡¯m a machine, I can just replay the memory. I just don¡¯t understand why ¡°I¡± need to do it. There were 6 of us present. Well 404 was there...in theory... so 7 of us?Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ------ Looking back at it, She (Super Soda-Pop) and Brown Bear were in combat with Monkey Wrench and The Luddite, at the local E&P lock and power dam. It had been a warm, sunny day, with a slight breeze that barely ruffled Brown Bear''s fur. The Lock & Dam had just been updated (50 years late) from vacuum-tube to ¡°modern¡± circuit boards, and The Luddite had taken offense. In a not-unheard-of twist (it mathematically happens 2.6741 times out of 3 in these situations), Monkey Wrench (an Eco-terrorist and known womanizer) had been staking out the dam as a point of destruction because it marred the ¡°scenic river¡± and made fish spawning runs almost impossible. Monkey Wrench had started his attack run with a heavily overladen boat on a collision course towards the dam portion of the Lock and Dam. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Wrench, The Luddite was walking out onto the dam, after knocking out the security guards with the feedback he caused on their radios. It was after The Luddite knocked out the power station on the dam that the call went out over the police hardline (after Luddite showed up the first few times in town, the locals insisted on buried land lines aka ¡°Hard-lines¡± for all of their emergency calls). The police, ESR (Emergency Search and Rescue), fire services, and heroes on call all came as soon as they could. Super Soda-Pop was the first on the scene, followed by Search and Rescue Robot MK 3-808 (also called Bob) and finally everyone else. ------ Bob (sworn in as Search and Rescue Robot MK 3-808) was on the witness stand...well a monitor showing him relaxing in the vehicle bay, anyway. He played back his recording of the day in question. Bob the rescue bot chapter 3 - A Theft Captain Douche-Canoe is at it again. But this time he has made it personal! He broke into my, My Garage! (What, you expect a 4-ton Search and Rescue Robot MK 3 to live in an apartment?) He stole my BESTEST THING EVER!!! My Community Service Award! Do you have any idea how hard it is for a non-combatant to get one of those things? I needed to track him down. I searched high, and low, and in-between. I searched the suburbs, the dump, the barrio, the "master planned" communities, the slums, and the ghetto. As a side note, the people in the suburbs and the planned communities were very nasty, and wanted to talk to my manager. The only exception was a Mrs. Karen Johnson; she listened to my whole story and in a pleasant tone, and with a mild southern accent said ¡°Well bless your heart! I hope you get your award back. Hard work always pays off.¡± My electronic heart almost skipped a beat. I had hit a snag, a conundrum, a pickle if you will. I went back to my poor garage. I looked at my favorite piece of concrete from my collection, the one I had hit him with. Only 18 kilos of it were left when I was finally able to recover it (and him) from the building he broke. It hit me. The building he had smashed when I hit him! Of course, that ego maniac would go there! He wasn''t there. Lost in thought and longing, I had wandered the city. Despondent.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. While walking along (and I use the term loosely here, I actually move on the ground with a set of 4 rubberized treads) a dark street in the warehouse district (the one off the freeway by Maryland and 16th, not the one by the river, or the storage yards down by the railroad tracks) I heard noises. At first, I ignored it as the movements of rats or stray cats. From a particularly nasty looking alley, ahead of me and to my right, I heard voices. "is that it? his most precious thing?" I stopped to listen. "Yep! I found it in a safe, behind a fake picture, down a hidden ramp, under his oil bar" another voice responded. Hey, I thought to myself, that''s where "I" keep my precious things... MY, MY Precious!!! I looked down the alley to see Mr. Poopy-Face and The Monkey in the Middle, looking at MY award! Now let me assure you, gentle reader, that I am not prone to violence, it makes my circuits itch, but on this occasion, I felt nothing. NOTHING! But anger. I charged! I went as fast as I could. Drill engaged to get everything out of my way. Monkey in the Middle caught it in the left cheek as he started running, just before he could climb the fire escape. Mr. Fart Blossom wasn''t so lucky. I hit him twice in the back with my short-range mining lasers. then I ran him over. Twice. Having summarily rescued my award; I meandered happily back home. -Excerpt from BOB, the rescue boat, a memoir. The Mountain The Mountain July 18th, 30 AE Dolomite Mountains, Italy ¡°Alright Joe, why are we here, visiting this grave site?¡± Bob asked, pulling a heavily laden sled of equipment. ¡°Well Bob, you know how the Blue haired Space Elves dumped their ¡°Mana Crystals¡± across Earth, seeding it for their eventual take over?¡± Joe asked, starting to remove items from the sled. ¡°Yeah. 85% of the population died from the attack.¡± Bob replied. ¡°And the rest of us were rounded up for our ¡°protection¡±. Well, almost all of us.¡± He gave a wicked grin. ¡°Well, while I was in their ¡°service¡± at their almighty library, I learned a few things.¡± Joe starte4d laying out a circle, some 6¡¯ in diameter. ¡°Like the reason for the die-off.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t leave me hanging!¡± Bob almost shouted. ¡°The resistance needs all the information we can get.¡± ¡°Magic. That¡¯s why we died. And why there are so many stillborn children.¡± Joe stopped for a moment, then started drawing lines in the circle. ¡°Mana poisoning.¡± ¡°¡­So¡­Those who lived can do magic?¡± Bob¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°Yup. I don¡¯t think the elves have figured it out yet. Idiots.¡± Joe said, a cruel smile crossed his face. He placed a human skull in the center of the circle. ¡°While I was ¡°in service¡± I had unfettered access to the whole library. Even the forbidden section, since I had to shelve all the books.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Okay, so where is this going?¡± Bob asked. ¡°Well, after the first ten years of saying ¡°Yes Master¡±, and not taking my vacation,¡± Joe paused for a moment to shake his head, ¡°I was told that I ¡°Must¡± take my vacation time, or there would be ¡°trouble¡±¡­ Who the hell gives slaves ¡°vacation¡±?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know? Seems like some codified social thing to us.¡± Bob said. ¡°Anyway, I studied in the library for all the time I was there. Then with my vacation time I started to visit all the old graveyards I knew about in the old USA.¡± Joe said. ¡°And? What¡¯s the point?¡± Bob asked, handing a pile of 11 candles to Joe. ¡°They don¡¯t keep any real track of their good slaves.¡± Joe replied. ¡°They even pay for everything while they¡¯re on vacation.¡± ¡°Get on with it!¡± Bob all but yelled. ¡°The sun is going down, and it¡¯s starting to get cold.¡± ¡°Sorry, not sorry.¡± Joe said. ¡°You need to know all this stuff.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± Bob stomped his feet in the snow. ¡°Anyway, I started at Arlington. Then up and down the coast. Then west.¡± Joe continued. ¡°Fort Snelling, The Alamo, Little Big Horn. And back through Canada.¡± ¡°The next year I went through Mexico. The year after I took my three weeks and went through Central and South America. I hit every old graveyard of importance to my idea.¡± Joe said. ¡°Got it. Graveyards.¡± Bob said, the exasperation not leaving his voice as he handed various items of religious importance to Joe. ¡°Every year I picked a country and did this.¡± Joe waived his hand at the circle in front of him. ¡°This is the last place on my list. The ¡°White Friday¡± incident of World War One.¡± ¡°I know what it is.¡± Bob said, then frowned as he handed Joe an exceedingly large Mana Cristal. ¡°Um, Joe? What kind of magic did you learn in the library?¡± ¡°Oh, I forgot to tell you, didn¡¯t I.¡± Joe said as the sun dipped below the horizon, and he raised his hands to start the spell. ¡°Now this should activate all the circles I placed across the world these last fifteen years.¡± ¡°What kind of magic, Joe.¡± Bob asked, a sinking feeling in his chest. ¡°Necromancy.¡± Bob the rescue bot EP 4 A supervillain Monologue Captain Malcom "Handsome" Johnson was sitting on top of the Golden Gate bridge. On the highest pillar, overlooking the bay. Tired after a long day of meetings with the Evil League of Villains. It was bad enough that I had to go to a meeting with Legal, but being told that my lawsuit against Super Soda Pop had to be dropped on a technicality of 808''s programing; and I refuse to call that junk heap "Bob"; having to show ALL relevant recordings of an incident, but I now have to pay the court fees? "What is my villain insurance good for?" he bellowed at the world. There was a sudden poke in the middle of his back. "NOW WHAT?!?" He turned around. Super Soda Pop was floating there. "What do you want? Here to gloat about your court victory?" She looked at him, a doleful expression on her face, "Mom says that you have missed to many Family Meals, and if you don¡¯t show up on Sunday, she will do more than pull your ear." Out of reflex Captain Handsome put his hands up to cover his ears. "Ok, Ok, please tell her I will be there promptly at Noon, in my civies." "Good. I will let her know." She flew off into the starry, cloudless night. "I''M 347 MILES FROM HOME! IN A RANDOMLY DETERMINED DIRECTION! HOW DOES SHE KEEP FINDING ME?!?" He yelled to no one in particular. Below him on the bridge, several drivers looked around trying to find the source of the scream, before continuing on their drive. I need to find a new way to take revenge on that "Search and Rescue Robot MK 3TM-808". "This is all its fault. If not for him I would have beaten my sister", he said out loud, using his inside voice this time. "Now I have to attend lunch at Mothers." And now I''m thinking about my family. Captain Handsome had been adopted, at an early age, into a well to do black family, who lived in a master planned community. A full family, mom, dad, and 4 children, 2 girls, 2 boys, including Handsome. They were well regarded by the HOA, the PTA, and the other neighborhood organizations. Then dad had died in the first gulf war, and mom got remarried to John Kwong. John was actually a nice guy, strict when needed, but nice. But Handsome had always felt left out, out of place. He was white. His mother, short, thin, and as imposing as a modern battleship would be in WWI. A stern look could bring a grown man to heel, and a child to tears. A kind word would make you float. A cuss never crossed her lips; unless you counted her southern "Bless your heart", which could come out in any form, from sugar sweet to utter disappointment, and anything in between.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. He loved, respected, and feared his mother. "What-cha doing up here, Captain?'' The voice was low, almost a growl. Startled from his musings, Handsome jumped a bit, "Oh, Luddite. don''t sneak up on me like that." Staring down below, at the new arc lights the city had put in, "I see the new lights don''t upset your sense of decency." "True. It will save them money in the long run too. Less broken bulbs" Luddite smiled. "I heard about your failure stealing Bob''s award last week. You really need to get revenge on that bot. He screwed you on the court case too." "Yes. But how? He has escaped and foiled me at every turn! The rock to my crotch; the lawsuit; the witness rescue, I had that women to rights! She should have died in that pit!" he said, sitting up straight, as he got angrier. "Thrice damned meddling rescue bot. 808 needs to be destroyed!" ----- 327 miles away, in his spacious garage, "Search and Rescue Robot MK 3TM-808" had an electronic sneeze. ----- "Coming up soon The Monkey in the Middle and I are planning a bank heist in 808''s usual work area. We could do some extra damage so it shows up. Maybe drop another building on it? Then you could use one of your Demolition Blasts to blow a hole in its side so my powers can effect it." Luddite looked very pleased with his plan. "No cut of the vault job for you, though; you would just be there for revenge." "I could arrange to be there. What day and time?" "We are thinking this Sunday, around noon." "NO... I mean no. Mom wants me there for Family Time on Sunday." "Mom...Your mom? Mrs. Karen "THE BATTLESHIP" Johnson, mom?!?" "Yup. That''s her." Handsome looks around, very carefully, "And don''t say her name so loudly, she might hear you." Luddite laughed, "That''s a rumor. There is no way she could hear us out here. Not with all this traffic and distance." "I HEARD THAT MR. LUDDITE! DON''T MAKE ME CALL YOUR AUNT BECKY" They heard, both in their ears and in their minds. "No, not Aunt Becky" Luddite shuddered uncontrollably "SORRY MRS. JOHNSON!" And more quietly to Handsome, "Shit. Why do I keep forgetting she can do that? Fuck. Migraine." "I tried to warn you. Am I the only one who remembers that she can actually do that? And why does everyone forget that She is my mother?" Handsome shakes his head to clear it. "So, no, not Sunday. How does Tuesday work for you?" "Should be fine. I will clear it with Middle, and send you a V-Mail." "Ok. I will put it into my calendar." The Luddite climbed backwards down the pilon, whistling some old song to himself. Finally! I am alone with my own thoughts again. Why do people always show up when I''m trying to have an internal monologue? And "speaking of strange things, why are there so many villains with "Monkey" in their names?" Theres "The Monkey in the Middle", "Monkey Wrench", "Curious Georgia" who actually is a monkey, "The Great Goliath Gorilla" who just wears a monkey suit... Just so many monkeys. "Did someone spill a barrel of them?" He stared out over the bay, and began to plan his monologue for the end of his greatest foe: "Search and Rescue Robot MK 3TM-808". Bob the rescue bot Chapter 5 The monkey in the Middle Monkey in the Middle was worried. Not only had things gone south, things had gone from bad to worse. I should have remembered! Captain Handsome''s mom was Mrs. Karen ¡°THE BATTLESHIP¡± Johnson! What to do, what to do? LEV has very strict rules about S&R individuals, mostly they were NEVER to be touched. ¡°They may save your life sometime¡± was the party line. Why hadn''t Handy told me that the target was S&R? Then it dawned on him If he had, I wouldn''t have helped. Shit. He still sat in the alley where it had all gone wrong. The refuse blown around by little gusts of wind. It would be dawn soon, and he would have to go into the office and file a report. ¡°SHIT! Why do I keep getting dragged into this shit?¡± - - - - - - - A few hours, a shower, and a cup of coffee later, found MM in the office, surrounded by paperwork. His cubicle was a standard gray, the interior walls covered in pictures of places he had been, both for work and vacation. He had risen high in the LEV, because of his personal drive for revenge, and for his ability to actually complete jobs. It was an amazing place to work. Technology, hard science, magic, psionics, research and design, the list of stuff going on and on. The fact that it was also easily accessible from the main bus depot was also a good thing since MM didn''t drive. Following the brightly lit hallways, he arrived at the mail room in the building¡¯s basement. ¡°April, are you here?¡± ¡°Just a second Hun!¡± came the reply from beyond the counter. A moment later April stepped out from behind a large stack of boxes, one of which seemed to be glowing. April, a middle-aged woman of average height and slightly plump build, was wearing a horrid pink and purple wig, and sporting a simple dress and leggings combo that flattered her appearance. ¡°Oh, MM, what can I do for you today?¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. With a smile MM responded, ¡°I need a sheet of stamps for personal use, a half dozen company mailers, and a dinner date.¡± ¡°Well, I can help you with the first two, but you know damn well I don''t date other employees, not after Paul¡±, came the quick response from April. ¡°I miss him too. He left us to soon.¡± MM said with a mournful look on his face. Paul had been his best friend, best coworker, and April''s fianc¨¦e. They used to all go out for drinks several times a week after work. Until. Until... Until the bastard had defected! ¡°What did he go and do that for? Seriously! We have everything better than the heroes do. Why did he leave us?¡± ¡°He tried to call me last week. I told him to go get screwed. That maybe he should go pall around with the Glitter Girls if he wanted to have some fun!¡± ¡°Aren''t the Glitter Girls shuffled off to some other team when they hit 18?¡± ¡°Yup¡± ¡°Ouch. Glad I¡¯m not in his shoes. Oh, and April? I wasn''t actually looking for a ¡°date¡± as such. I was looking for a drinking buddy. I hate not having a wing...person when I go out drinking.¡± April looked up from where she was grabbing the supplies, ¡°Oh, Hun, I''m sorry, Jimmy was just in here pestering me about going out with him, and I let it out on you instead. Sure, I''m up for some drinking. Where do you want to go?¡± ¡°I''m thinking the Water Front would be a good spot for tonight. The company has nothing scheduled near there in the foreseeable future.¡± ¡°I''m in! That will be $35 for the stamps and your thumb here for the mailers.¡± MM complied. ¡°Thanks! See you there around 6:30.¡± ¡°Bye now¡± April waved, and went back to moving the boxes that kept coming in. Most were three times her size. Bob the rescue bot Chapter 6 – The Prospector He was walking down the side of the gravel road, barefoot as usual. At 5'' 10¡± he wasn''t particularly tall, and at 148 lbs., he was fairly skinny. His dark hair was cut short and his skin is weathered by many long days out in nature. His well-worn boots were hanging by their tied laces over his shoulder along with his bright blue day pack and gold pan; his ensemble was completed by a light gray windbreaker, long sleeved shirt and denim jeans. The black sedan following him down the road was a minor annoyance, but as he was going to head away from the road and deeper into the wild in a few more yards, he decided to have pity on the G Men following him. He stopped, turned around and waited expectantly. The car stopped about 15'' away and two men dressed in almost identical black suits stepped out into the crisp northern Arizona air. ¡°Good morning Mr. Wilson, how are you this fine day?¡± the one on the right asked as he slowly advanced. ¡°I''ve told you before not to call me by that name, Johan.¡± He responded. ¡°Well, be that as it may, we at the Meta-human Enforcement Division have been instructed to be as specific as possible. I will, of course, make another note in your file.¡± ¡°What brings you to MY little patch of paradise today?¡± ¡°Well, aside from the bi-monthly check in, the IRS has been asking questions about your taxes again. Apparently, they have a new supervisor in the Meta division. He won¡¯t leave well enough alone.¡± Said Johan, shaking his head. ¡°And what does that mean for me?¡± ¡°It means that we have to serve you papers and escort you down to Flagstaff for questioning. Please don''t cause them trouble. Our agents are just trying to do their job.¡± Johan replied.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°Want to give me a ride home first? Or do we need to leave now?¡± ¡°You still live on the way, so sure.¡± Three hours later, dressed in several thousands of dollars¡¯ worth of business attire, Mr. Gregory ¡°The Prospector¡± Wilson, former hedge fund owner and manager, was seated across a table from a shrewd looking MIRS agent. ¡°So, Mr. Wilson, according to our records, even though you own 2,000 acres of prime resource rich land, have very expensive tastes, and reside in a luxury home, you claim that you don''t have to pay taxes?¡± Agent Renalds asked. ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°You realize that we, and by we, I mean the MIRS, can seize all of your property, items, and home. Leaving you destitute, homeless, and penniless?¡± ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°And all you are going to say is ''Yup''?¡± Agent Renalds looked angry. ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°Fine! You are here by under arrest for tax evasion, conspiracy to commit fraud, and...¡± The door to the interview room opened, and 3 individuals entered. One, wearing an expensive looking suit and wearing a nearly shark grin, easily identified as a lawyer from Dewy, Cheatum, and Howe. The second wearing full combat dress and looking like what he was, a soldier. The third also wore a military uniform, with the bars and stars of a three-star general. The lawyer started, ¡°Agent Renalds, on behalf of the United States, the US Military, and several unnamed government entities, you are here by ordered to cease and desist Mr. Wilson, AKA The Prospector, are hereby ordered to cease all conversation with the agent.¡± All while smiling politely, and dropping a folder in front of Renalds. ¡°W, what are you doing!¡± Agent Renalds began. ¡°I am interviewing a suspect in a tax evasion and conspiracy case! You can''t just barge in here!¡± The general shook his head, ¡°Actually we can, and are. Look at the documents. Then you will apologize to Mr. Wilson, and never speak of this again.¡± Agent Renalds looked at the documents. The folder was marked ¡°Classified¡±. He read. He read more. His eyes bulged. He looked at Prospector. He looked at the papers. He looked back at Prospector. ¡°You? You did this?!?¡± ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°...My humblest and most sincere apologies, Mr. Prospector, sir. I will make sure you are left alone for as long as I am in charge of my office.¡± Agent Renalds fled. ¡°That''s what, the third director I''ve had to deal with? Why can¡¯t they keep the same one when administrations change?¡± Prospector asked. General McCalister, shaking his head, ¡°I don''t know. Probably something about politics.¡± The Prospector shrugged, ¡°You guys want to go for burgers? My treat.¡± Bob the rescue bot – The Atoll The giant sand beast was yammering on ¡°I am ATOLL the king of the Islands! All of you will bow down before me!¡± At least the beach hasn''t been destroyed yet. Bob thought, staring down from the paved parking lot. A lot of people have left. A lot of people are showing up too. Not a bad place for a Tuesday swim. The man shaped monster, around 3.5m tall and several thousand pounds, walked up the beach, towards a group of huddling tourists who were trying to hide in a picnic shelter. ¡°You shall be punished for the desecration of the ocean and beaches of the world!¡± A small black woman stood up, anger seeming to flair in her eyes, ¡°Why don''t you go after China then? They throw more crap in the ocean than we do!¡± Atoll rocked back on its feet, appalled that a mere human would address it that way. ¡°Because I am here now. China is on my list for next month! Now you shall die!¡± Super Soda-Pop took this opportunity to change into her hero outfit, and flew out from behind the picnic shelter, and screamed ¡°You aren''t allowed to be here! This beach is closed to anyone without small children!¡± Again, Atoll was taken aback. Another human dared speak to it in this fashion?!? It swung its fist at the interloper. ¡°You will die in my sandy hand!¡± It bellowed in rage. Bob wished he had (or could eat) some popcorn, humans seem to like it when watching a spectacle like this. The fist connected with SSP in a mighty shower of sand. The wind knocked out of her; she flew back into a dune. Then slowly stood up, wheezing, her ¡°Package¡± delivered. Atoll looked at his hand. Was this Meta-human blood? This pink, pulpy liquid? As it soaked into his hand, he could ¡°taste¡± the pink lemonade. He liked it. ¡°You will all suffer the same fate as that little one!¡± He bellowed. The small woman shook he index finger at Atoll, ¡°Bless your heart.¡± Atoll shuddered, and then looked around, not understanding what was making him shudder. The woman continued ¡°Tsk, Tsk, Tsk. You come up on this beach. You interrupt This family gathering? You endanger MY Grand babies? I THINK NOT!¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Atoll stepped back, shaken. What was this woman? Why did he suddenly fear her on an instinctual level? SSP snapped her fingers. Atoll''s arm exploded. Thick tendrils of sea weed, sand, and gravel flying everywhere. ¡°You''re looking at the wrong woman, sandy bottom! Your opponent is over here!¡± SSP yelled at the creature. Atoll snarled in pain and rage. He charged SSP. She somersaulted over his head, kicking him in the ass as she landed. Then darted away. Turning, Atoll saw her and charged again, this time stopping a second early so that when SSP tried to jump him again he could grab her with his good arm, while the other re-grew. Caught in the over-sized fist, SSP struggled to free herself. The sand, slipping from between her figures, made escape almost impossible. Almost. She triggered the suits simple syrup sprayers, then snapped her fingers. The explosion was deafening. She fell to the beach, and looked at what was left of Atoll More than she cared for was left. Atoll screamed. The pain and rage now filling his being. He stomped SPP into the sand. Again. And Again. Atoll walked slowly, menacingly, towards the older woman. His arms now both regrowing. As he was about to reach her, the cheery voice of the hero called out to him. ¡°You hit like my brother. When he was a BABY!¡± Atoll spun around. And got a kick in his face for the trouble. Bob watched in fascination as SSP sprayed and exploded pieces of Atoll all over the beach. The news crew had already shown up, and was broadcasting live coverage of the fight. Time to get to work. Bob rolled his van sized body down the beach, towards the family stuck in the picnic shelter. Not that they ¡°needed¡± his help. He knew who the woman was. He had met her in a dark alley a while back, and she could take care of herself. ¡°Search and Rescue Robot MK 3TM-808 at your service, Ma''am. If you would please move yourself and your family group to my passenger cabin, I can get you all to safety¡±. ¡°Well bless your little robot heart! Thank you. I think we will take you up on your most kind and generous offer¡± the woman replied. ¡°Malcom, get the children in first. Then the rest of us will go.¡± A middle-aged white man got to his feet and started ushering 4 children into Bob''s passenger compartment. After that, with a little bit of an uncomfortable squeeze, the rest got in. Bob sped up the beach and onto the lot at the top, only stopping once he had passed the police cordon, and popped open to discharge his passengers. The older woman stayed behind for a moment to speak, ¡°Thank you Bob. How is your precious thing doing? Any more thefts?¡± ¡°No ma''am. Everything is fine.¡± The woman walked away to join her family. Back on the beach, Atoll had been reduced to not much more than a head on half of a torso. Singed bits and pieces of himself strewn around. ¡°Puny human, I surrender to your insurmountable strength of explosives. You may take me in¡± Atoll said in a loud and disappointed voice. All he had wanted was to clean up the beaches and oceans. Was that too much to ask? Dungeon Core: The Isle of Glass Forward: 2158 ¡°Check out this piece of hardware I got at the pawn shop on third!¡± ¡°The one where the owner occasionally glows when he¡¯s drunk?¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± ¡°I wonder if he got irradiated¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know, don¡¯t care. He said the thing was a part of a DDRPG that he was a part of until the system went offline, like 20 years ago.¡± ¡°¡­He doesn¡¯t have a skull port. He doesn¡¯t even use a terminal! Cash only!¡± ¡°I know. Anyway, he let me have it for five.¡± ¡°Five hundred for out-of-date tech? Are you crazy?¡± ¡°Just five. No hundred, nothing.¡± ¡°Wow!¡± 2159 ¡°I can¡¯t believe we got it working!¡± ¡°It only started after you stabbed yourself on the power plug. I wonder why that thing is so sharp?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t care. What I wonder is why the data plug fits the jack properly.¡± ¡°We¡¯re all hooked into the college mainframe! Jack in, and let¡¯s see what we got!¡± ¡°3, 2, 1¡­ I¡¯ve got visual! It looks like an island of some sort that is made of glass!¡± ¡°Seriously? No wonder the game failed!¡± ¡°Wait! No, there¡¯s some stuff¡­looks burned.¡± ¡°Like how?¡± ¡°Uh¡­You remember the history of the Third War? The craters from the last strike missile over NK?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°It looks like that. Just a lot older.¡± ¡°Cool. But nothing to worry about, since it¡¯s a game world.¡± ¡°Yup.¡± Chapter One 2163 George Hanson stood up and stretched. The auto-retract function on his work box was working today, so he didn¡¯t have to worry about unplugging. He sighed as he grabbed his briefcase and suitcoat. I hate this place, but work is work. If it was pleasure, they would charge you. He exited his cubby at the Cubicle Farm, and headed down the lonely strip of frayed carpet that lay between the rows of quiet cubical. That meeting was way too long. And it could have been a quick message. Idiots. He reached the deserted hallway, and headed out the main doors, waiving to the security guard on duty. ¡°Bye Frank!¡± ¡°Good bye Mr. Hanson. Watch out for the storms.¡± Frank replied, a real smile spreading across his face. George jogged down the plasscreete sidewalk to the depot, and hopped the last commuter to his local station and walked home under flickering fluorescent street lights. When I make my money, I¡¯m going to fix those lights myself! The corporate board are idiots. He approached his building, a tall fake sandstone structure of some fourteen floors, that looked like it should have gargoyles, but didn¡¯t. Walking up the wide low steps, he pressed his palm on the door reader. A buzz and click later, the door opened, and he entered. I¡¯m glad this place is rent controlled, otherwise I¡¯d have had to sell the apartment when Gran died. The elevator was in peak operational condition, as always, so he pushed the button for his floor, and was at his door in moments. Another hand scan and a physical key later, and he was inside his inherited one room apartment. ¡°Home sweet home!¡± He said, and the lights flickered a few times, then came to life. ¡°I need to call maintenance and complain about the power grid again.¡± He took in the small apartment that his grandmother had left him. The pictures from their trip to Boot Hill Arizona, the old posters from western movies, the paintings of the grand canyon before it had been dammed for power. He sighed and walked to the printer and thumbed through the flimsies that his box had spat out over the day, then threw them in the bin. ¡°No real mail. No packages. No calls either.¡± He sighed. ¡°Gran, get the bed ready, I have to be back to the Farm early in the morning!¡± A whirring came from the wall, as the bed was slowly lowered from its niche. ¡°Thanks Gram. Kill the lights in fifteen minutes.¡± The bedside lamp blinked twice. He lay on the bed, still clothed, and drifted off to sleep.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. - It was Friday, and his day had been the same as the last, but when George walked into his apartment, he found a mid-sized cardboard box awaiting him. A box marked ¡°Fragile, handle with care.¡± As with all such packages in the modern age, as it had been labeled as such, it had been placed in a nearly bulletproof container by the USPS for delivery. He smiled to himself, remembering what one of the boys from high school had told him¡­ - ¡°Don¡¯t mess with the USPS. They tell the corps what they can and can¡¯t do. Even Mattix Corp has a USPS compliance division.¡± ¡°Why? They¡¯re just part of the government.¡± ¡°They¡¯re the part of the government that controls the Network.¡± ¡°¡­I thought the access corps ran the Net?¡± ¡°Mostly. The ¡®PS owns the backbone.¡± ¡°You are mostly correct, Mr. Pikes.¡± An annoyed sounding teach bot stated from the front of the class room. ¡°And the USPS hands out egregious fines for those who misuse and abuse their systems.¡± - George looked in surprise at the box, before pressing the ¡°Open¡± button on the top of the case. The latch popped open, and then the case melted into a small puddle on the floor. Once the puddle solidified, he picked it up and tossed it into the bin. ¡°Gran, when did this show up?¡± He asked the apartment¡¯s almost AI. ¡°At noon today.¡± The elderly female voice replied. He nodded and carried the box to the small table in the corner, and opened it. Chapter Two The box, the wonderful, wonderful box contained one thing, a mem stick. George looked at the stick, and turned it over and over in his hands, wondering what in the world it was. Then he looked in the box one more time. Taped to the inside of the lid was a small card that read ¡°Enjoy!¡± It was signed by a name he hadn¡¯t seen in a long time ¡°Gramps¡±. ¡°Holy SHIT! The old bat is still alive?¡± George slumped onto his bed, and stared. ¡°Gramps¡± had disappeared more than ten years ago, just after gran¡¯s funeral. He wasn¡¯t actually his grandfather, but gran¡¯s male ¡°companion¡± of many years. Apparently, a hired position, but still he had cared hugely for gran and for George. In the end times, it was gramps that had remembered his birthday, attended his soccer games, and helped him with his homework; all while taking care of gran during the stage 4 cancer. It¡¯s my birthday today! The old man remembered! A tear rolled down his cheek as he plugged the stick into the house box, lay back on his bed, and jacked in. [Welcome to Isle of Glass Beta, Dungeon Edition] The empty white space Infront of him said. [This product is still in BETA, therefore, do not fall asleep during play] Holy shit! Isle of Glass? The open Beta hasn¡¯t even been talked about yet! And gramps scored me a copy of the Dungeon Edition! How? [Tutorial? Y/N] He poked the ¡°N¡±. [Are you sure? Y/N] He poked ¡°Y¡±. The screen fuzzed into rainbow heughs of light, and he found himself in a bare room. [Please select your dungeon type. You have 3 points to spend, select up to 3] [Village] [Woods] [Open Plains] [Mountain] [Underground] [Swamp] [Hills] [Others coming soon] ¡°Hmm, let me see.¡± He spoke aloud, ¡°Lets honor gran and gramps.¡± He poked [Village], [Hills], and [Underground]. The screen flashed blue at each press. [You have selected Hills, Village, and Underground. Is this Correct? Y/N] He poked ¡°Y¡±, the screen flashed yellow, and he smiled about his plan. - It had been three hours when he finally unplugged. He stretched and yawned, and wandered to his mini fridge to pull out some day-old takeout to eat. It¡¯s weird that the game gives a warning every hour that you should jack out and stretch. You would think you would want people to stay online for as long as possible. At that point he realized he had just automatically moved to the table and had already started eating. Looking up from the bowl of curry, he saw the small photo of his mother, gran and him standing in front of the third war memorial where his father¡¯s name resided. He shuddered, and a small tear dropped from his eye. Not long after that photo was taken, his mother had sent him to live with gran full time, and had eventually checked herself into the state mental hospital where she died after only four months. He left the rest of his meal on the table, lay on the bed, and jacked back in. Time to finish the memorial. [Welcome back! We at Isle of Glass hope you had a good break! Continue construction of your dungeon? Y/N] He poked ¡°Y¡±, and went back to work. - I¡¯m done! Praise the lord and pass the ammunition! His virtual presence stood in the middle of a village. A village of sorts, anyway. There was a bar/Inn, a smithy/hostler, and a general store lining the main street; not that you could really call it that yet. One of his spawners was set up in the back of the inn, and the other one was just outside the mouth of the ¡°Mine¡± aka the dungeon proper. The one in the inn spat out ¡°townsfolk¡± and the one at the Mine spat out miners. The dungeon, as a whole, was named ¡°Mine Hollow¡± and had taken all weekend to set up. The second hardest part had been selecting the proper shops and structures for the main street, as the rest of the village had self-propagated to ¡°Support¡± the shops. He had spent almost all of Friday night going through menu after menu, and finally found the weather beaten southwest look he was looking for, for the buildings, and then half of Saturday applying it to everything in town. It¡¯s a town, not a village! The rest of Saturday had been spent filling shop inventories, and placing the spawners. Sunday was the hardest part: Publishing the dungeon on the map. A proper location for a dungeon was critical! A dungeon needs traffic, but not too much traffic. It needs a good place with transportation to and from. A source of water, not too close, but not too far. A place that matches the background terrain. The big problem was that none of these things existed on the map yet, it was blank, except for the coastal areas, which barely had much in the way of terrain. I don¡¯t want to be interfered with by some sort of pirate infestation, I don¡¯t want to be in the middle of the map, I guess I will place my dungeon¡­here. He poked a spot on the map that looked like it had once held a town of some sort. [Congratulations on your dungeon! Dungeon 001 is now open for all players to visit!] 001? I¡¯m the first dungeon? Awesome! He jacked out, and went to sleep, Monday was looming on the horizon. - ¡°Um, Mr. Johnson?¡± A young man asked from the door of an ornate office in the downtown of Mega-Plex 3. ¡°We may have a problem.¡± The Mountain – a sequel? The Scourge of Dirt a Memoir, The peace we will keep> The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The grumpy Dungeon The grumpy Dungeon The dungeon yawned and stretched itself. It had had a good nap, but those terrible little people were going to be back today, it could feel it in its basalt. But it had a plan! Today it would get rid of those disrespectful brats! It began the final preparations for its plan. - It was deep into the afternoon as Bob, Rob, and Bert approached the village dungeon. The ground had changed since their visit last week, having become more gently rolling, and less rocky. The three children looked around carefully, to be sure that the teenagers weren¡¯t there yet. ¡°Alright,¡± Bob, the leader of the three, said, ¡°none of the older kids are here. Let¡¯s see what the dungeon has in store for us today!¡± ¡°Why do you get to be the leader today?¡± Rob asked, his voice high and squeaky. Bob smiled his trademark gap-toothed grin, ¡°Because I turned nine last week! And that makes me the oldest!¡± ¡°I turn nine in a fortnight.¡± Bert grumbled under her breath, then louder, ¡°Then lead on, ¡°Fearless¡± leader.¡± Bob whirled around to face Bert, ¡°Hey! You screamed like a little girl when those worms fell from the ceiling too!¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Bert tossed her tightly braided brown hair over her shoulder, ¡°But I am a little girl. You just sounded like one.¡± Rob snickered, ¡°Get a room, you two.¡± In well-practiced unison, Bob and Bert punched Rob in the gut. The boy stumbled backward, still laughing. - The dungeon felt the approach of the three trouble makers, and shifted slightly, the new plan was about to be tested. - Bob stopped in his tracks and started to laugh. ¡°Guys. GUYS! Come look at this!¡± Rob and Bert walked up to Bob, having been previously poking sticks at a spongy rock a few yards back along the road. The two looked at the entrance to the dungeon, and began laughing along with Bob. - They laugh! They laugh at my sign! Why? How? It was the proper thing back in the¡­Back then. The dungeon sighed. On to part two. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. - There was a sign next to the entrance, a sign with a measuring stick, that read ¡°You must be this tall to enter¡±. But the line on the stick was only two and a half feet tall. Bert had slowed her laughing to a giggle, and between gasps for air managed to squeak out, ¡°That would stop a toddler. If they could read!¡± Then finally collapsed into another fit of giggling. It would take some time for them to recover. - The dungeon glowered at the three small adventurers as they made their way past its first line of defense. It shrugged again, then activated its second line. - The children stepped into the first chamber of the dungeon; a chamber that was constantly well lit by magical torches fastened high up on the walls. They laughed in glee as the highly detailed miniature wooden soldiers that had been waiting in formation started forward to attack. ¡°I call the Green army!¡± Rob bellowed. ¡°I want White¡± Bert yelled, strowing behind the now confused armies. ¡°I will have Red.¡± Bob said, stepping behind his men. ¡°Red is the badge of courage, after all.¡± An hour later, Bert had been defeated, with her block fortress on fire and crumbling, destroyed by Bob¡¯s fire mages. Another half hour later, Rob¡¯s last soldier, an officer of the calvary*, fell to a very determined army of Bob¡¯s archers. A clear and decisive victory won, three small chests appeared in front of the children, color coded to match their armies. Bert, first to fall, opened her chest first. A small amount of black licorice, cut into bite sized pieces. She scrunched up her face in disgust, but pocketed the prize anyway; she could trade it at the village. Rob, second place, opened his chest next. Inside was a piece of pink chewy candy. He popped it straight into his mouth, chewed it a few times, then proceeded to blow a huge bubble. Last, but certainly not least, Bob opened his chest. There was no candy, but instead there lay a beautifully crafted child¡¯s toy bow. Bob squeed in joy as he pulled the magnificent thing from the chest and held it up to be admired by his friends. He then removed a quiver of properly sized arrows from the chest too. ¡°Wow! Best haul ever!¡± Bob said, body shaking. ¡°I¡¯m not trading this for anything, so don¡¯t even try, Bert.¡± Bert sighed. Next time I¡¯ll win. Then the cool toy will be mine. - The dungeon looked on with a combination of horror and anticipation as the children battled with its army. It felt like it was watching an accident on the highway, and just couldn¡¯t look away. At the end of the battle, it shrugged and sighed, and dropped the treasure chests. Surely the poisonous food and dangerous bow would scare the filthy vermin away! It was half disappointed, half relieved when it did scare the vermin away. - The three children, late coming home from the dungeon because the battle took so long, slunk into the village, and on to their homes. Goodbyes were said, and plans laid to break into the second room on their next adventure. Bob¡¯s father, upon tucking his son in that night, easily noticed the new bow under the bed. A bow that later that night he removed. He stared at the bow with an appraising eye. ¡°Well, the arrows are padded, and the draw weight isn¡¯t too bad. I guess I¡¯ll let him keep it, I¡¯ll just have to have a talk with him about safety first.¡± He returned the bow to its place under the bed. - The dungeon shifted. Tomorrow would be better. The new defenses had arrived and would be placed in the front room, and the three armies of doom would be held back in the second. That done, it chewed on the problem of how the invaders had usurped its army and turned them upon each other. A problem for another day. *A Calvary officer that had been named ¡°Captain Douche Canoe¡± by Bob and Bert due to his recurring ability to escape Bob¡¯s grand tactics and pincer maneuvers.