Waking up to laughter, I vaguely feel Shelly still patting my head. What a persistent menace.
Slowly cracking my eyes open, I find someone dressed just like Shelly standing over her laughing.
Shelly herself just keeps gazing at the ceiling. If I didn't know better, I would've thought this lady
was talking to herself but she's definitely talking to Shelly. "Nothing? What a disappointment. At least don't die too quickly tomorrow. Cannon fodder or not, I want to enjoy seeing you squirm with my shoe on your face. Just like you did when we enrolled together. Do you remember that? Now, I'm top of our class and you're not even in it" she gloats. Can you get any more generic than this? Talk about a cliche confrontation. The only thing off is that Shelly is still obliviously patting my head. I can almost see the other woman's dissatisfaction.
Turning my head, I check behind us. Eight more inmates directly behind us and several other people dressed like Shelly casually standing around them. Ignoring the generic side character, I listen for anything of value. Filtering out casual conversations, I hear something interesting.
"You think we can handle a hound wave? It isn't the worst, but they're known to hunt in packs."
"Don't worry, hounds target the weakest looking or most vulnerable targets. Just stick to our group and don't stick out."
Hounds. Quadrupedal beasts with no real danger to trained troops. Looking back at the standing figures, I frown. Not even at the level of enforcers. Out of all of them, maybe a couple look strong and the chances of a mage in training are abysmal. Their postures are mostly relaxed, but there's no tension, just nervousness. On the very likely chance that they've never fought a real wave, we, the prisoners, will tank the initial attack and buy time for them to acclimate.
Chuckling, I rub my hands together. No one cares about us. No one will be watching us and no one will expect us to do anything other than dying and draw attention from the weaker recruits.
Feeling my empty stomach turn as the aircraft lands, I notice I'm still holding my food brick. Shrugging, I take a bite. Chewing for a few seconds, I spit it out. So people taste terrible, who knew? Pocketing the brick, I wait as the recruits leave first. Glancing to my right, I find Shelly still staring off into space as the other lady glares at her. How long has it been since I boarded? How do you even get mad at someone like Shelly? You just kill her or stay away right?
Finally getting the signal from the same conductor, I get up with Shelly leading the way out. Lining up in a sad excuse of a line, I count the recruits positioned behind us. Four rows of sixteen, sixty-four recruits and about twenty of us. A bit hard to count when people are bending in every way possible while trying to stand. Twenty inmates for every sixty-four recruits, it's definitely not the time for a rebellion.
Clearing his throat, the same old man from before starts talking. Checking my surroundings while he talks, I notice that there isn't much personnel other than those who were just transported with me. That's odd. It's a decent-sized camp, but it can only be called a small base since I don't see more than one entrance. One way in. One way out. That is unless you fly, dig or break through the thick stone walls. Tuning back into the regular programming, the old man drolls on about our glorious duty and some less glorious people leading it. With his unchanging tone, he finally reaches the important closing speech. "Nine hours. There is limited food available in the mess hall. Nine hours from now, the gates will open and you will fight whether you want to or not. Until then, you can do whatever you want. The same goes for the inmates. You wastes have one less hour to be here, in front of the flagpole. Be on time or I will kill you for being late."
Glaring at us like we did something wrong, he waits a few moments before dismissing us. What a wanker. Slowly walking towards the mess hall, Shelly pushes me faster. Something is wrong though. The old man did say do whatever you want and that I have eight hours. Now all that's left
is a lamb to chop. Being herded towards the food counters, Shelly leans down to my height. Whispering in my ear, "Get a tray full of the yellow gruel and wait for me in the far corner." Licking my teeth in annoyance, I breathe out noisily from my nose. Soon I'll be free. Just follow for now. Glaring at her back, I grab two trays. Just turn around in front of me so I can stab you. Sliding two trays across the unmanned food counter, I shovel yellow gruel into one tray and a little of everything else on the other before moving into the far corner. Joining me just seconds later, Shelly starts eating. Shrugging, I start sampling the different types of mush when she nudges me. "See that girl sitting alone on the farthest table from us? Spill the yellow gruel tray on her in two minutes" she whispers before abruptly leaving.
Glancing at her empty tray, I scowl. She ate her fill so it's time to work? Just roll over and die for me. Just once let me stab you. Just once, let me help you feel eternity. Counting the segments on my index finger, I sigh. Picking up the tray of gruel, I slowly meander around the small mess hall. Trailing behind a group of recruits, I dump the tray on her head. Stepping closer to the group, I pretend like I'm listening. Hearing a few awkward sounds, I glance back to find her frantically wiping it off. Seeing her skin break into rashes, I chuckle. She's allergic to whatever is in the gruel. Is she someone Shelly knows? Definitely not someone she likes. Getting the last bit off, she makes a run for one of the hallways leading deeper into the base. The same one Shelly went towards. Coincidence?
Following the group a bit further, I glance around the mess hall. After I'm sure no one is watching me, I slowly break away. Walking into the hallway labeled north, I hug the far wall. As quietly as possible, I creep down the hallway until I find a latrine. Finding a door a few meters farther down the hall, I enter, leaving a small gap when closing so I can see the latrine entrance. Waiting a minute, I see Shelly happily walking out alone. No girl with rashes in sight. Waiting a few more minutes, I leave the small supply closet and dash into the latrine. Finding nothing out of place, I start checking the stalls. Opening the middle stall, I smirk. Here lies a very dead girl, face covered in rashes and neck bruised purple. Strangulation huh? Shrugging, I start checking her body. Finding nothing, I sigh. She took the enhancement potion and the weapon. Feeling a shoulder pad slide under my weight, I chuckle. Stripping her cloak off, I close the stall behind me. Finding
a thin exoskeletal armor on her, I start prying it off of her. First the arm braces. Then the shoulder guards followed by the breastplate. Pulling her trousers off, I remove her shin and knee guards. Glancing at her undergarments, I snort. like I need those. Taking my knife out, I slide the armor over my clothes. Everything but the breastplate fits. It's not really a problem, but the small gaps make it a bit uncomfortable. Slipping on the trousers, I pull the cloak over my head. I wonder if all of them have armor.
At least I look like one of them now. waving my arms around, I try touching my toes. Since there isn't any protection on my false ribs and lower, nothing hinders my movement. Pulling the hood over my head, I sigh. Grabbing the knife in my left hand, I Leave the stall and look around. There really isn't anywhere to hide. The ceiling would take too much work to cut a hole in. The whole restroom is a rectangle so no hidden corners. Nothing to use other than the stalls, but that
means I'm stuck in the restroom as well. Leaving, I head back into the adjacent room. Turning the light on, I find myself in a small utility closet. Scouring through the shelves, I find my two favorite products, bleach, and ammonia. Pulling several gallons of each out, I check the hallway. Clear. Grabbing four gallons of bleach, I open the caps and spill them on the latrine floors. Discarding the containers in the trash, I quickly bring the gallons of ammonia over. Taking the caps off all of them,
I tip them with my feet and kick them away under the stalls. Breathing through the side of my hood, I inspect my handiwork before retreating. Ammonia mixed with bleach can make some
nasty gases, but cleaning versions are normally much tamer. At most, it'll make some chlorine gas.
Pulling a chair over, I lean against the door frame. Now the waiting starts. As far as I know, bleach and ammonia are significantly diluted when used as cleaning products. The chances of someone dying are low, but they will be easy to kill once they come out. Flexing my fingers over the short knife handle, I shiver as footsteps echo down the hall. That was fast. Listening to the footsteps I grimace. There are two pairs of feet approaching. Two people. I could wait for the next lone person, but what are the chances of there only being one latrine. If these guys start talking about spilled chemicals, no one will be coming here alone. Waiting, I watch both of them enter together. Sneaking out of the room, I stand to one side of the latrine entrance. Ignoring their conversation, I listen for their footsteps. A few seconds pass before the footsteps start rushing for the exit. Grinning as they start coughing, I hold my knife with my thumb supporting the spine, I feel another shiver run down my spine. Hearing someone splash through the chemicals, I start tensing up.
One dead zombie. Two dead zombies. Three dead zombies. Four dead zo- Seeing someone's shadow, I stab at where their neck should be. Feeling them bowl into the knife and keep running,
I follow them to the ground. Grabbing their hood, I bash his head on the ground before grabbing my knife and pulling it across his throat. Pulling it out, my vision swims as someone kicks me away. Glancing at the dead man, I grin. One down. One to go. Getting up, I watch as the other person tries to staunch her partner's bleeding. I don't think I felt any armor on him. Noticing me getting up, she pulls out a dagger. Whipping the blood from my knife on my cloak, laughter starts bubbling up from my throat. Isn't this exciting? Her blade is longer and most likely more durable.
Her fighting skills are more polished and her musculature definitely more developed. What do I have that she doesn't? What I have is a knife with her name written all over it.
Scrutinizing the knife, I see some serrations near the grip, but none further down its belly. It's meant for stabbing. What does that mean? If I angle it right, I should be able to take a slash and walk away fine. Stepping towards her while bending my knees, I slowly start circling and she reciprocates. Simple and standard reaction. Continuing until I'm in front of her partner, I stop. Slowly stepping near the wall, I grab his head and bash it against the wall. Watching her slowly get closer I sigh, she really isn't making this easy. Wetting my hand in his blood, I flick my wrist at her, slinging blood at her face. Watching her arm move up to shield her head, I rush in. On instinct, she lashes downward with her dagger and I raise my hand and shoulder to accept it. headbutting her into the wall, I step back before kicking her straight in the chest. Ignoring the flailing blade in her left hand, I yank her down to the ground. Finally free from her dagger slicing my arm, I lunge at her trying to stab her face as she rolls away. Scrambling after her, I catch her blade arm and stab her
in the bicep. Pulling as she rolls, I hear the sweet sound of ripping flesh.
Breathing in shallow breaths I crouch as I watch her screeching while holding her arm. Slowly creeping towards her partner, I pull out his dagger and chuckle. This is me winning. Glaring at me, she starts backing up. With me between her and the mess hall, she can only go deeper into the hallway. That being said, what is deeper in the hallway? Feeling unsettled, I start moving with her. Seeing her touch the wall behind her with one hand, she turns and runs. Changing the hold on my knife, I slowly aim before shooting it at her back. Running after her, I watch as my knife buries itself in her foot. Stumbling, she catches herself on the wall before turning around to face me. Was she whimpering this whole time? Doesn't matter. Holding her dagger towards me with her good arm, she pushes her left arm against the wall.
Watching her trembling arm I slowly inch forward. It's best to let her make a mistake first. That being said, time is not my friend. Stopping just a meter away, I pause before stomping on the ground. Hearing her breath hitch, I lunge forward, pushing against her dagger with my own. Not bothering to match my strength with her, I stomp her injured foot. Seeing her face wrinkle up in pain, I return my own when she starts cutting into my stomach. Slowly bringing my foot back, I apply more pressure to our confrontation. What a blunder. Pushing her away for a moment, I grunt as I hop backward awkwardly. Glancing at her bleeding foot, I smirk. She's bleeding much more than me. Touching the cut on my stomach, I push my fingers around. Still just skin deep. Still in great condition. Watching her for a few more seconds, I sigh. I've got no friends whereas she might. I can't wait for her to bleed out. Holding the with my right hand and keeping my left hand a bit further apart than normal, I lunge in again. Catching her dagger with the outside of mine, I grab her hand with my left. Turning and sliding into her body, I try flipping her over my shoulder only to find myself flipping with her.
Groaning as I land on her, I Find her dagger hand trying to get under my chin. Pushing with my left, I grab right below the dagger with my right. Hearing her whining and moaning under me, I stare at the fair-skinned hand in front of my face. No armor. Not a single scar. Let's fix that. Making sure her dagger wouldn't poke my face, I bite. It's like eating a chicken drumstick, Just less cooked and more bloody. At least in texture. Pulling at the skin and flesh in my mouth, I tear it away bit by bit. Feeling her writhe under me, I continue until she punches me off with her injured hand. Fliping over, I slip on my bloody hands and end up smashing my nose. Lifting my bloody face off the floor, I grab the dagger hand coming at me. Figures that I'd drop mine. Pulling at the hand, I let it slice my shoulder. Sliding past the blade, I bite onto the hand. Judging by the intact wrist, this is the left wrist. Feeling something give as my incisors sink into her flesh, I hear her dagger clatter to the floor. Tearing my teeth out of her arm, I grin. Jumping at her, I start whaling at her face. Starting with her pretty little button nose, I punch her another four times before she brings her hands up to defend. Looking for the dagger she dropped, I grab it and shove it into her chest. Resting on the grip, I feel the rise and fall of her chest slowly weaken. It's like the tide, Slow and gradually receding. At least that's what I've been told.
Suddenly feeling my head clear up, I hold my head with one hand. It's so quiet now. Pushing myself up, I glare at someone watching me from down the hall. I guess she was screaming sometime between me killing the man and me stabbing her chest. Seeing them still watching, I start going through her pockets. Grabbing the enhancement potion, I grab the dagger I dropped earlier before trudging to the man. Finding his potion, I pocket it before moving further down the hall. No reason to wait for more enemies. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I run my hand through my hair. I'm leaving bloody footprints, what a mess. Glancing back at my watcher, I sigh. That couldn't be Shelly Could it?
Watching them turn around and walk back into the mess hall, I glance back at the man. He had armor on him too. Glancing back at the hallway entrance, I spit blood on the floor. I need to clean my shoes off as soon as possible. If I'm not wrong, I'm going north, and there was a communal shower area a bit to the west. If I can make it out of the building I can make it there. Checking a door, I click my tongue. Locked. There aren't even windows in this place. Reaching an intersection, I take one last glance down the hall. My shoes just barely leaving bloody footsteps at this point. They will be following me. Licking my chapped lips, I turn left. Let's take a shower.