Patches and I headed back into the hallway for our third time running.
I had a battle plan and the best thing about it was that it was super simple. Run around the corner, following the route that I imagined the red-haired woman had probably taken. Find the elevator or stairs if there wasn’t one. Head down to the ground floor.
And get the heck out of this place. See what was going on with the outside world.
We jogged along, Patches panting alongside me in his four-legged gait, bounding forward with that eager jagged smile that seemed to tell everyone, “Screw off. He’s mine.”
As we headed towards the center of the complex, the floor got friendlier. A red and yellow carpet made its appearance. Further in the walls jutting out at an angle, forming a stylish atrium filled with antique lobby furniture. A bookcase completely blocked out on side of the room, and a brass plate signified that this was the 25th Floor Study Area.
I tried to make sense of it. My previous building hadn’t reached up nearly this high, and it had little study centers for the university students to lounge in, but they hadn’t been fancy.
Not like this.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the wall opposite to the bookcase was a view screen, and the elevator doors looked to be encrusted in gems.
I stopped my jog, stuttering gibberish to myself in disbelief. It was like I’d walked through a wardrobe to Narnia. Everything was just so different.
I sighed and let myself sink into the enormous and awesome-looking beige sofa resting up against the closest side of the room. It felt like the butt of a baby cloud, so smooth and smooshy that I had to get up a moment later for fear that I was going to fall asleep.
It was the sitting down and standing up that brought my attention to the video screen. It was on, it was broadcasting, and in its on-the-scene camera I could see the ending of an era.
Waves of gray goo were pulsing forward, sweeping over the world I had been in the day before, and replacing it with other stuff. My jaw hung open as I saw a Chicago block transformed into its former 19th century past, all wobbly wooden structures.
Cars became horse carriages, the people disappeared. And an active military presence was battling the amorphous blob with fire, automatic weaponry, missiles, bombs — I was a bit impressed the Feds hadn’t nuked the thing yet.
I peered back at the halls I had come from. The new Chicago that was appearing before my eyes had nothing in common with the soulless, steel, and electric future world I was apparently living in now.
More what the heck. Great.
I pushed the button to call the elevator and received a prompt for money. Fifty credits. The same as the cost of breakfast, apparently. Whatever. I paid the fee and continued to watch the video screen as I waited, Patches by my side.
The camera view had switched back to the former block, all ancient Chicago now. People were popping back into existence! Here and there they appeared, all in different period clothing now, but some of them looking just like they had and others, like me, having their faces and stuff changed and altered to their liking.
I smiled. Free plastic surgery wasn’t a bad thing, for sure. And those people, they weren’t getting mauled or destroyed by monsters like my neighbors had been.
There my smile dropped. Something was off, some new rule to life unknown. What was it that made all of these people safe, and yet all of my neighbors were monster food?
I heard the elevator ding. Then I smelled it open, a whiff of sweat and crap that I hadn’t expected. I cut away from the video screen just in time to see a giant cat man, his tail swishing back and forth, his wife beater pit stained and his fur all matted.
Patches barked, too stupid to care about its massive pecs underneath a name tag that read “Dogsmasher”. But I wasn’t so sure. The thing looked like it could bench press the building. And even if it couldn’t, those thick legs told me it could kick one apart.
I gave one more longing look at the video screen, watching the people there come together in their old timey clothing and talk things out, and wondered again about what was wrong with the here and now.
This was bullcrap.
The cat man stepped out of the elevator.
“DAWG!” it boomed in the most caveman-like cat impression ever created on the planet Earth. “I’m gonna getcha. Oh yeah!”
I turned and I ran for my apartment, screaming for Patches to follow. The cat meowed and hissed at the same time in a deep baritone suitable for romantic valentine’s ditties.
It was a cringeworthy sound, is what I’m saying, and even Patches appeared to agree with me as we ran past the end of the carpeting back to the plastic and steel of the residential abodes.
Behind us I could hear the thing loping, almost a sigh it was so faint. A sigh that got louder and louder as it gained on us. The fucking irony of it. My dog and I were about to get eaten by a cat. Or beaten bloody. Or whatever it was that the thing wanted.
In my head I heard the sounds of rockets and my CO yelling. “Why are they shooting us, sir?” I’d asked him. Then his head got exploded, his gore covering over everything.
I’d never gotten to find out the answer then. But if I was about to die in this crazy game land, I wanted to make sure it was with some answers.
I stopped in my tracks and turned sideways to minimize my silhouette, then faced my pursuer. This was going to stop right here and now.
“What the hell do you want?” I yelled at the oncoming form. Patches skidded to a stop and joined me, showing vampiric canines as he growled.
The cat man’s eyes widened and he skidded to his own stop.
“What?” he squalled. He sounded shocked and possibly frightened.
I took it as a sign to go on the offensive. This was a game and I had intimidation, right? Maybe I wouldn’t just get answers. Maybe I could actually beat this encounter or whatever the hell it was besides.
“Who are you? What do you want? What the hell did we ever do to you?” I let loose, pulling no punches. The cat man back-pedaled a little, its matted hair raising up into the spires of a stuff forest.
“I, well, uhm, what you doing here?” he shot back. I peered into his eyes and saw his pupils were incredibly wide. It either meant he was absolutely terrified, or that he was about to pounce and kill.
Patches barked and I took a step forward, watching the cat man take a step back.
“I’m the one asking the questions here, buddy. I live here. This is my place. I wake up, all of my neighbors are getting killed and attacked, and now here you are chasing after me like I killed your mother. Now, answer me. What. The. Hell.”
The cat man took another step back and hissed.
“This is Boss’s now. Landlord not pay protection. Bad news for tenants.”
He looked extremely unsure, though. “Sorry about neighbors. I just crack bones and toss. No killing.”
I nodded. He looked like a crazed feline lunatic, but he had a moral compass. That . . . that was useful.
I patted Patches’ head and whispered a few words, standing him down.
“Alright, hey, I’ll vacate. No problem. Was planning to leave anyway. But if you actually care about people’s lives, maybe you can help me evacuate some of these people. I mean, wow, I’ve seen some war crimes here. There was a cyber-dragon—”
He sighed and his demeanor shifted entirely, as did his speech.
“Ah, crap, that’s Chuck,” he interrupted.
I’m not gonna lie. I did a double-take. No longer was he a cave-cat warrior talking in single syllables, but rather a being with advanced vocabulary on par with my own.
A notification popped up. I swiped it aside. This was more important.
“And a room that was super hot —” I asked, still mystified.
“Probably Beyonce.”
I coughed. “Excuse me, who?”
“Beyonce Blazes. She’s another tough for the boss. A fire elemental. Not a good choice if the boss wants to keep this place intact.”
My head swam. This was so out of my league.
“And then a red-haired woman ran from her own burning room.”
“Ha, Beyonce again. She’s a sucker for letting the red-haired ones go, whatever the situation. Alright, I’ll help you get people out, no sweat. You said you’re leaving, right? No need for me to break anything?”
“Yeah.” I stuck out my hand. “My name is Kev — Dirk, by the way. Dirk Stone.”
He walked up and grabbed my hand. I could feel dried feces crunch in my grip.
“I’m Eric. Eric Joel.”
I looked him up and down. He really looked like an Eric, at least body-wise. Dude was super ripped, a Rocky Balboa if I’d ever met one.
“Nice to meet you, Eric. Any particular reason you are covered in dried fecal matter?”
“Yeah. It freaks people out. Makes them easier to kick out of their homes.”
I nodded. “The stink alone . . . “
“Tell me about it. I’m ground central. Alright, are we gonna go get some people out of here, or are we just gonna let Chuck and Beyonce kill all your friends?”
Quest received – Savior of the People
A mysterious figure known as The Boss has sent enforcers to kick out or murder all of your neighbors. Are you gonna take that stuff? Or are you just gonna wet-blanket about and cry in your corner?
Objective: Save at least 20 people from the murderous goons known as Chuck and Beyonce.
Reward: Gain a new apartment, fully furnished, in the East Slums of Gojira-X. Win a contact: Eric Joel.
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go save some neighbors.”
