Untitled Game 69 Pt. 01

Have you ever had a dream that made you sit up in your bed with your clothes drenched in sweat? A dream that wasn't a nightmare exactly, but it horrified you anyway? A dream that, once you wake up and think about it, there really isn't anything that you should have been afraid of, but you have a sick feeling in your stomach every time it crosses your mind?

Dreams never settled right with Drew. He never had good dreams, just strange ones or nightmares. And the last one he had on Earth was both.

He remembered hunting in a forest, a rifle in his hands. Drew had never used a gun before, but for some reason he felt comfortable holding it. He wasn't sure what it was he was hunting, but he trudged through the forest, twigs and leaves crunching under his feet. Suddenly, he sensed something was wrong. The air changed. The tables had turned. He was the one being hunted. There was a rustling in the trees, and from the canopy dropped a tall blue skinned creature. Drew turned his gun and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. He tossed the weapon at the creature and ran into the undergrowth. He ran as fast as he could, but no matter where he went, no matter where he hid, no matter how many trees he climbed or roots he ducked under, there was another one of those creatures with their arms spread wide. Waiting to envelop him in the cold hug of death. Drew ran and ran and ran and suddenly, he wasn't running anymore.

He was flying. Gliding over an expansive desert. He gazed down at the rolling dunes in a daze. Why did he feel so tired in a dream? He barely noticed the desert change, becoming slightly more hospitable with cacti and tumble weeds and the occasional withered tree. His sluggish brain finally processed that these hills and mountains on the edge of the horizon looked familiar. He was almost home.

Oakland, 3544, Drew thought. But he didn't know what that meant. He had never heard of Oakland. He lived in a little town called Sandy Hill. You could barely call it a town, less than two dozen people lived there.

As he swooped close to the ground, Drew spotted a few rats and scorpions. The rats were the size of large cats, and the scorpions were even bigger, almost the size of labradors. Drew barely noticed or cared. He hunted those creatures everyday, they meant nothing to him.

What did mean something was the burning village on the horizon. Drew was suddenly wide awake, gaping in horror at his home in flames. Screams rang through the air, dark shapes moved in the shadows, concealed by smoke. Through the fire, Drew could see one of those horrible tall creatures standing at his doorstep, waiting for him.

Then he woke up.

...

Immediately, Drew stumbled out of bed and clambered to the window. He looked outside expecting fire and monsters, but everything was fine. A few people were calmly collecting water from the well. None of the buildings were even singed.

Drew sighed with relief. Of course. It was just a dream. A very odd dream, but that didn't mean anything. Drew had weird dreams all the time. Just the other week he had a dream about fucking some woman wearing a tight purple dress. The next morning he was just as much a virgin as the night before.

His underwear tightened. Oh great, thinking about that dream got him excited. His dick pushed out against his clothes like it was trying to break free.

Drew sighed again, this time in exasperation. He would jerk off, but he had things to do. The first being one of his least favorite.

Holding his breath in anticipation, Drew slowly raised his hand and swiped up with his index and middle finger. He wasn't really expecting anything to happen. Most mornings, nothing did. But today, a black and white screen the size of a large tablet was pulled out of the void in front of him.

Motherfucker, Drew thought as he scanned the screen carefully.

*Stats Inventory Locked

Name: Drew Richman Armor: Underwear (classy) (+1) Defense: 6

Health: 30/30 Weapon: None (+0) Attack: 4

Race: Human Size: 8.1

Gender: Male Exp: 544 (56 until next LV)

Class: Provider Level: 5

This was bad. Drew wasn't a superstitious person, but after that dream, this felt like a bad omen. He hadn't seen the screen in over eight years. His hand moved up to the scar on his neck. Back when he could still talk.

Drew got the distinct feeling that someone was watching him. His hands slid down his body, running over several other scars, the worst alongside his fourth rib. He covered his crotch, glaring at the thing that was watching him. Or at least he tried. After a few seconds, he realized he was just giving the stink-eye to his wall.

Stop it, he signed, one hand still over his junk. He felt that whatever was watching him politely averted its gaze.

Still glaring at the wall, Drew edged over to the foot of his bed and slipped on a pair of pants. The second after he pulled the zipper, he felt the gaze return.

What do you want? he asked.

It didn't respond. Drew felt his body lurch itself over to his closet. He opened it and grabbed everything inside. Out of the corner of his eye, a new screen floated just out of reach.

*Closet

Jacket Thick and protective +5 Def Shirt A blue shirt +2 Def

Shoes Better than bare feet +2 Def

Pants Brown and plain +3 Def

Spear Somehow still a weapon +2 Atk

Harry's Chip Owned by the technician

A glowing white dot selected everything in this new screen and moved it to Drew's original screen. It equipped everything except the pants, which they moved back into the original screen, and Harry's chip, which it put in Drew's "inventory."

Drew scrambled around his tiny hut like a madman, searching desperately for something that wasn't there. Whatever was in control of his body clearly thought he was hiding something under his bed, or in the walls, or in his lamp stand. But Drew owned nothing. Nothing that he wasn't already using anyway.

Then, like a dog at the end of a leash, Drew was dragged out of his home and into the blinding desert sun.

...

Drew loved his home, but he hated a lot of the people in it. For example, the four people who always seemed to camp right outside his house. Normally, Drew just gave them the slip, he was scrawny and nimble enough to dash in between the houses and escape into the desert, but today was different. Today he was being possessed by a being on a higher plane of reality or something. Drew didn't really know what it was. Old Man Krueger had given him a description of the being, but the idea had been so bizarre, so insane, that Drew had pushed it from his mind. What had the old man called the being? The Player. That made it sound like it got laid a lot.

The Player steered Drew right over to his childhood bullies and tried to strike up a friendly conversation with them. Drew wanted to run, but he remained frozen in place.

I'm fucked, he thought. I'm so unbelievably fucked.

One of the girls, Olivia, spotted him as he waltzed over. Her nose wrinkled with disgust, then she elbowed her friend/leader Kendra. The instant she saw Drew, she said, "What the fuck do you think you're doing, freak show?"

Drew froze. He felt like a deer in headlights. More than anything, he wanted to be anywhere but here, but what could he do? The Player wasn't letting him move. He couldn't talk, Player or no Player.

The big guy who had been flirting with the girls turned around. Drew considered himself pretty tall and in good shape. He was almost six foot one, and he was lean, like a long distance runner or a swimmer. Drew was not, however, a six foot seven giant with bulging muscles, which this guy was.

"So the speechless idiot finally pokes his head out of his crackhouse," Hugo grinned. "You trying to get rejected by the ladies again, dumbass? Be my guest."

Drew refused to glance at the third girl in the group, Robin. A few years ago, he had admitted he had a crush on her. She had rejected him. Brutally. Some wounds never really heal, much like his severed larynx. But out of the corner of his eye, Robin was staring at the ground dejectedly. Despite the fact that he had convinced himself that he'd gotten over her, Drew's heart fluttered.

Stop that, he told it. She's not interested. Get a hold of yourself.

But Drew's heart wasn't listening. It went crazy whenever Robin was around. It told him that she was looking at the ground because she regretted her decision and wanted to be with him.

No, she's looking at the ground because she's uncomfortable around me. Drew realized he had autonomy over his arms. His thoughts had rushed over him in an instant. Right now everyone was laughing at him.

Like anyone with half a brain would date you, Hugo. Drew said, his face wrinkling when he gestured toward the bully.

After Drew had his accident, Granny J, the unofficial leader of their little town, had insisted that everyone learn sign language. Hugo wasn't very fluent, but he knew when someone was insulting him.

"Well that's where you're wrong, Drawing." Hugo slipped his arm around Kendra and pulled her into him. Kendra sneered gloatingly at Drew. "Say hello to Sandy Hill's newest power couple."

Drawing was Hugo's nickname for Drew. When they were kids, he'd made a crayon drawing of a rat, and Drew had thought he'd drawn him. He'd been called Rat for a while, until Hugo seemed to realize that Drawing made more sense thematically. Drew was just a stupid crayon drawing he made as a kid.

Like I said, Drew signed. Hugo kept grinning smugly, but Kendra furrowed her eyebrows like she didn't understand. Olivia was checking her nails and not paying attention to the conversation, but Robin's eyes widened.

Drew was suddenly able to move. Before Kendra could figure it out and tell Hugo to kick his ass, Drew turned around and walked away.

...

Once he was a good distance away from them, the Player took over again. It spun Drew left and right, eventually deciding to head down main street. Drew normally went this direction anyway, but something about not having control over his actions disturbed him. Mostly, he just felt thankful that he'd gotten away without getting curb stomped.

Drew passed Harry's Workshop, the local scrapper/mechanic. Despite his current predicament, Drew couldn't help but smile when he saw Harry's. They had built the place together, using mud bricks for the walls and metal scraps for the roof. It looked just like every other miserable house in town, but Harry loved it. He had filled it up with junk; old pieces of machinery that didn't work anymore, battered parts dragged out of the desert, old robots, weapons, engines, anything metal really. Harry loved to tinker, even as a little kid. When he grew up, everyone suddenly realized how helpful he was. He built a plasma fence around the town to keep out animals and malfunctioning robots.

But Drew didn't have much time to reminisce. The Player steered him over and started up a conversation.

"Hey Drew!" Harry was sitting outside, tinkering away at what looked to be an engine of some kind. He was a scrawny kid with curly black hair. His clothes were always stained with grease. "Did you bring me my chip?"

Drew nodded and handed it to him.

"Yes!" Harry took the potato chip and crunched down on it. "Delicious!"

Drew grinned. Harry had a bizarre sense of humor, which meant you had to be ready for anything. It was a stupid joke, but Harry never failed to make him smile.

The Player also seemed to respond. Drew could feel it chuckling apprehensively, almost like, "What is wrong with this kid?"

Drew didn't really like that. It made him feel self conscious about his friends.

"What can I do for you, Drew?" Harry asked as he munched happily.

Nothing really, Drew said. Just wanted to stop by and say hello.

"Oh!" Harry waved. "Well, hello! Tell Granny J I said hello too, will you?"

Sure, Harry. Drew could do that. He normally stopped by Granny's before he went out anyway. As the town's cook, it seemed fair that she tell him what to catch. Not that there was much to choose from.

The kitchen was right on the edge of town, a few yards away from the humming green plasma fence. Something about the fence both comforted and disturbed Drew. He knew it kept the bad stuff out, but if it ever malfunctioned, they would be trapped. Maybe he didn't like it because he spent a lot of time outside. It wouldn't take much to lock him out of town.

He went to the metal shades that covered the service window and rapped his knuckles against it. There were sounds of clanging and cursing from inside, then the shades slid up, revealing Granny J. She was an old black woman in her sixties with white streaked hair tied up in a net. A stained apron was tied around her waist and she held a long wooden spoon.

"Drew!" She said with a smile, "What do ya want?"

An old woman's grocery list. Drew grinned as Granny feigned offense.

"Afraid there ain't no old women in this town, darlin,'" she sniffed, "But if you brought five or six rats in, you might please a few young ladies."

Drew made a face. Rats? From the sewer?

"Well everyone here is sick and tired of eating scorpion." Granny put her hands on her hips sassily. "Can't be good for ya anyhow, with all that poison."

Venom, Drew corrected.

"Oh come off it, ya little know it all!" She wapped his head with her spoon. "Just get me some rats. And don't go in the sewer for 'em. Those ones taste funny."

But they're so much easier to catch. Drew said with a sly look on his face. Sometimes he'd catch a mixture, just to mess with people. Only he and Granny J knew the difference between a sewer rat and a desert rat.

"Don't you dare." Granny scolded, "Hugo got sick for a week the last time you did that."

Yes, and what a shame that was.

"You know that everyone is just as important as everyone else. If we lost even one person--"

--Everything would be thrown out of whack. Drew signed, Yes, I know Granny. I know.

"Good." She tossed him a big cloth bag. "Now get going. And make it snappy. There's a storm or something on the horizon and I don't want you caught up in it."

...

In the mountains shadowing the desert, an old man sat in an old rocking chair on the porch of his dingy shack, looking down at the village. The old man was called Krueger, and as the people in the village knew, he didn't like to be disturbed. He muttered something to himself, then spat into a bucket about ten feet away.

Krueger glanced up into the sky. His expression turned into a scowl, harsh lines cutting across his face. He withdrew a pistol from his jacket and fired into the air, hitting a ship that was hidden within the clouds. The old man heard the ring of the bullet ricocheting off alien metal.

"Get the fuck down here and face me like a 'man!" Krueger roared. "Fuckin' Drama Queens."

The ship slowly lowered and revealed itself, opening its hangar doors and extending a ramp that landed a short distance from the old man's front porch. A short, blue skinned woman with a very shapely form strode down it, her arms stretched out wide as if she wanted a hug.

"Benny!" she laughed, "It's been so long! I can't believe you're still alive!"

She ran up the steps of the porch and hopped onto his lap, kissing his cheek. "I missed you so much! What have you been up to, you old dog?"

"Dying." Krueger said.

"Oh. Right." The alien's mood was slightly diminished, "Did you want to have one last fuck before you bite the big one?" Perhaps not quite that diminished.

Krueger looked at her with an expression of hatred that only a bitter old man like himself could pull off.

"Maybe just a blowjob then?" she asked, unfazed, "I remember you used to love a good sloppy BJ."

"What do you want, Exgravia?" he asked her.

"Well," Now Exgravia looked slightly embarrassed. "We were just going to collect your body before harvesting your little village over there, but it looks like you're still kicking! Honestly, I'm surprised. I don't think an un-modified human has ever lived this long. You should be proud! It has to be some kind of record."

The old man's expression changed to one filled with pain and anguish. He hated the thought of his sweet Jackie being taken by these horrendous blue beasts. And poor little Drew. He could see so much of himself in that kid. If those god damned documents had gone through, Krueger would have made him his replacement. He choked back a sob as tears streamed down his face. He'd failed. He'd failed his country, no, his planet, his species. But most importantly, he failed this poor little town in the valley. He could feel himself fading. If only he had held on a little longer. If only he could stay alive long enough to--

"By the way," Exgravia said, examining her nails, "I thought you'd like to know, Queen Cragivai sent in a terran appliance form that would have extended your request by another five years." She waved a glowing blue data pad in his face.

Krueger's heart was no longer filled with sadness, it was filled with rage. He suddenly remembered why he despised the queens so much. In one fluid motion, he dumped Exgravia down onto the ground.

"Ouch!" she pouted, "That hurt!"

Krueger said nothing. He knew the Dramatians were an apathetic race, incapable of understanding the suffering of other species. If he complained, or told Exgravia that her government was corrupt, all it would do is make her horny.

So he settled with shooting her shuttle in the exhaust port. The whole vessel shuddered, and Exgravia looked concerned for a moment, then turned back toward Krueger, "You know we fixed that little exploit you found years ago."

"How interesting." Krueger said as the right wing of her shuttlecraft promptly exploded.

Exgravia yelped, then stood up and shouted at Krueger, "You stupid old man! Do you know how much those ships cost?!"

"Nope."

"Well you know you're going to have to pay for it, and you're already deep in shit as it is!" The ship slowly leaned to the side then hurtled into the cliffside. It exploded the second it hit the ground.

Krueger looked her right in the eyes and said, "Do you really think I give a fuck about what you think I owe you? I'll be dead in a few minutes." He pointed his gun at her head. "I'd have blown your brains out already if I didn't know what you'd do to those poor people down there." He tucked the pistol back into his jacket. "But it's bad enough for them already."

Exgravia had the decency to look a little embarrassed. "Come on Ben. What we do isn't so bad. It's not as bad as the Bobbles."

"You're right," the old man nodded, "It's worse."

...

Drew grunted as he dragged two scorpions through the fence gate. They were heavy, mostly because of the shells. He'd already cut off the barbed tips of their tails. The scars on his hands had taught him that, but now he had slimy scorpion juices leaking everywhere.

He tossed the tails on the ground in disgust, panting heavily. Granny had told him to get rats, and he had caught a few, but these two pieces of shit had smelled them and attacked. Probably hoping for an easy meal. After he killed one, he hoped the other one would just run away, but no such luck. They were probably mates, because the second one fought much harder than the first. Now Drew had a fresh scar on his shin from the fucker's claws.