[Permanent Midnight] Chapter 1 - "0gr3 and Out"
The first chapter of PERMANENT MIDNIGHT, a cyberpunk/fantasy litRPG serial novel. It's high tech, high magic, low culture.
Welcome to the first installment of my novel, Permanent Midnight. I am writing this as a serial novel, where I post early-access chapters here for subscribers before posting them on Royal Road at a later date.
With all that said, I hope you enjoy jacking into my new cyberpunk/fantasy world. I look forward to hearing your comments and getting your feedback as we move forward together.
Note: I know a lot of you are here for RPG content, and this won’t disappoint. There are stats and items and progression coming for Reice and her party. And as a peek at what’s to come, the stats they’ll be working with are MEAT, METAL, MIND, and MAGIC.
Description:
The world is dying. But, then again, it always has been. Only now, instead of the land being decimated in the name of gods and devils, the land is being decimated in the name of profits and advancement. The gods and devils turned out to be real. The gods and devils turned out to be us.
Magic is in the air. Technology is pervasive. Invasive. The difference isn't as distinguishable as it once was. Spells or sprites, pixels or prestidigitation, it doesn’t matter. Either way, it’s just another way for the Guilds to control the Haves and further string along the Have Nots.
The world was ours for the taking. So we took it. Now it barely feels like a world at all, after everything we've done to it.
We treated the world like we treated our bodies, ripping out the parts we didn't like and replacing them with something we thought we did. And like our bodies, we had to constantly repair and replace and patch and update things just to keep chugging along, just to keep surviving.
Thriving never crossed our minds. It was never an option we gave ourselves.
The city has become a prison for the poor and a haven for the ultrarich. A haven from the wastes and the chaos of cyberspace, inside and outside the city walls. Fortunes are made here. Lives are ruined.
An Elf moonlights as SecWatch in the Unders. An Orc paints a delicate, surrealist interpretation of the Bitlands. A Goblin couple spends their last credit on trauma care for their injured child. Human junkies sit under a bridge, sharing a trip, hallucinating themselves into Trolls. At the same time, a Troll scholar gives a lecture about megacorporative colonization at the Borg Institute.
High tech, high magic, low culture.
Sounds like home.
Content Warning: profanity, violence, sensitive content
Chapter 1 - 0gr3 and Out
My skull cracks as the metal fist slams into my head.
My vision faiIs. Pain explodes. There's wetness on my face and have no idea if it's blood, eye jelly, or tears. Most likely, a combination of all three.
Then, as another fist connects with the opposite side of my face, the world goes black.
"Shit," I manage to say as I fall. The pain is unreal, and I can barely concentrate. I'm amazed I can curse, but it has always come more naturally to me than breathing. So it's not that surprising.
The ogre—or rather, the 0gr3 as the bounty description calls it—shouts something unintelligible. Even though I can't see a thing, I know the chromed-out monster is still right above me. Involuntarily, I move a hand up to the wounds. As far as I can tell, yeah, I'm covered in all three fluids: blood, ichor, and tears.
"Fuck." My face has been decimated. No wonder my head feels like it's barely attached. For all intents and purposes, that's true. The chromed-out monstrosity basically knocked my eyes right out of my head. I'm lucky it didn't break my neck. Or crush my skull into my brain.
Goddamn, I've never seen a monster this full of metal before. Technically I can't see it now. How does something like that even happen? I get cocky and in over my head, that's how.
That doesn't matter at the moment. Can't think about that right now. No, I need to do something before I go into shock or bleed out. Or both. Hell, I probably am already. Both.
It's all I can do to try to scramble away from the 0gr3. It shouts again but gets cut off by the beautiful pew pew pew of Arimaz's gun. The shots continue, but I hear them dully plunk against the metal plating hiding under the 0gr3's already too-thick skin.
Arimaz and I have been in the same party for the better part of a decade. We run jobs across the Unders, both over and (mostly) under the table. This is one of the legit jobs, taken right off the SecWatch bounty kiosk. It shouldn't have been this dangerous. SecWatch bounties rarely make us break a sweat.
"Little help, guys?" I shout. Or what I think is a shout. It may have been a whisper. I don't know. I feel weak. The pain is starting to make the world spin. Which is saying something, since I can't see the world.
This is bad.
As if in response, something thunks into the 0gr3. There's an explosion a fraction of a second later. Gore rains down on me. A lot of it. Good ole Arimaz, always ready to blow something up when you need him. Another thunk. More blood, more fleshy bits.
I think maybe the monster is moving away. Maybe. It sounds like the footfalls move away from me.
"Get out of there, Ari! Run! It's faster than it looks!" Zamira yells. Arimaz needs to run. He doesn't get up close and personal with our targets. Unfortunately, though, it seems right now, the chromed-out monstrosity is trying get up close and personal with him, whether he wants it or not.
"Shit shit shit shit shit," Arimaz grumbles over comms.
That's all I need to hear. He's already booking it. Arimaz is good at staying out of trouble. I'm not worried about him. Much.
"Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit," Arimaz keeps chanting. "Is it still chasing me?"
"Fuck if I know," I mumble as I paw and scramble. I need to get my back to a wall. "Can't see a goddamn thing. I think my eyes are gone." My stomach gets sick. My head flares in pain. My face feels like it's being burned off with a barely working vibeknife. "Z, I don't think I'm doing too good." Blood trickles into my mouth as I talk. My lips are tacky and lightly stick together.
"Well shit," Zamira replies. "Hold on, I got you." Then, to her twin brother, she says, "Ari, just keep running a minute."
"A minute? What the fuck, Z? I don't have a minute!"
"Neither does Reice!"
Time slows down. I have no idea how long it is between when I ask for help and I feel the impact of the dart in my temple. It slides in, and I feel every inch of it. Then, I feel it inject the coldest fucking thing I've ever felt in my life right into my head.
It's awful. It stops the burning. It replaces the burning. I don't know if this is any better.
I mean, obviously it is. But...
"Shitdamnfuck ow," I say as the nanobots flood under my skin and into my brain. They burrow their way in, finding their way somehow to my eye sockets.
I feel the nanites pull the crushed orbital bones back together. What the fuck. This is weird. They move the shards back where they should be and hold them there. The nanites harden like a cast.
Whatever these are specifically made for, it ain't for healing. They hurt too much for that. But I guess they'll hold the bones in place until I can get to a doctor. Or back to Zamira's workshop. Most likely that.
My vision returns. God, she's a good streetdoc. But holy hell, everything is so bright. I can't help but yelp in surprise and raise my arms in defense.
That's when I realize I only have sight in one eye, and everything looks like it's under a green filter. But I can see.
Unfortunately, the world is still spinning, so my stomach still wants to empty itself. I let it. I'm already covered in mixed fluids from inside my body, so what's one or two more?
Another dart sinks into me, this time in my upper arm. The cold is a little less intense this time. Probably because it isn't my head. The vibrant pain dulls slightly, and I feel a massive surge of energy as the world stops spinning. Whatever Z calls that shot, I'm gonna get her to rename it to *Get Your Ass Up Right Now*.
None of it will last longer than a day, and I'm cool with that. For the moment, I can see, I don't hurt as much, and I have a burst of artificial energy to get my body moving enough to help finish off this nine-foot-tall monster.
Anything else is a problem for Future Reice.
"Thanks, Z!" I yell without looking back. Future Reice is not going to be happy, but she'll be alive, and that's what matters. Down in the Unders, that's a lot. Most of the time, that's enough.
It will absolutely not be enough, however, if we don't hurry the fuck up and take down this 0gr3.
My gaze locks on the 0gr3 chasing Arimaz, and I take a breath. That cocktail Zamira just shot me up with is some good shit. My rifle is in my hand in a flash, whipped over my shoulder from the mag-panel on my back that it lives in. Hopefully, it's sturdier than I am and didn't get busted up like I did.
I chamber a round as the 0gr3 catches up with Arimaz, who is emptying his high-caliber slug thrower directly into the monster. It slows down. Whatever ammo he's using is definitely saving his life. Or at least prolonging it.
"What the hell are you doing, Arimaz?" Z says over comms. "Get the fuck out of there!"
"I got this," he replies. "Don't worry, sis!" Before Zamira can tell him how fucking stupid that is, the 0gr3's back erupts. Through the scope of my rifle, I watch Ari blow a huge hole straight through its torso.
For a split second, I feel relief. It abruptly recedes as I realize the mostly metal monstrosity is still on its feet! How?! It reaches out and grabs Arimaz with both hands.
How is this thing still going? Whoever cybered it up is one sick son of a bitch. No wonder SecWatch had hired this job out.
It would have eaten normal beat cops alive. Literally. Just like it was apparently trying to do with Arimaz.
"GoNnA bE yUmMy!" The thing screams as it lifts Arimaz up in both hands like a sandwich and opens its mouth to chomp down and decapitate one of my best friends.
A line of narrow light zips from Zamira's location to the 0gr3. Whatever she's shot it with makes it pause. Its muscles clench and spasm. I see its knees lock up, its shoulders hunch.
My turn. In my shape, I know that aiming at a small target like its head—small being relative in this case—means that I'm more likely to miss my shot. "Aim small, miss small," like Marv always told me. But I have no idea how long the thing is going to be stunned; Arimaz had already blown a hole through its torso; and it is still going.
No, I have to take the shot. The 0gr3 convulses as I breathe out, but not enough to ruin my aim. I squeeze the trigger. The bullet speeds toward the back of the 0gr3's head, pierces the base of its skull, and exits through its nose. Brain, bits of skull, and blood spatter all over Arimaz.
The 0gr3 drops him immediately, and they both collapse. A black-red mixture of blood and oil pours from the monster onto the concrete and seeps around Arimaz's still form.
Zamira and I converge on them, weapons drawn. I put another two rounds through the 0gr3's skull for good measure, making sure it is really out of commission.
Then, as though what had just happened was as ordinary as strapping on his boots, Arimaz stands up and shakes his head to fling some of the gore and grime off. And I see that he's fucking smiling! Smiling!
Then, as nonchalantly as I've ever heard him, he says to his worried twin sister and brutally battered teammate, "You guys hungry?"
This is so incredibly good! I LOVE it!