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  • Dream Drive Ch. 02

Dream Drive Ch. 02

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Author's Note:

I was very flattered and encouraged by the comments on the first chapter of the story. Thank you for the feedback.

This next portion is twice as long as the first chapter. It's juicy on action and characterization, but if you're looking for something more like erotica, and less like literature, you may want to return later.

This is intended to be a story-driven tale with sexual aspects, rather than a sex-driven tale connected by pieces of story. Some chapters may not have sex scenes at all.

All aspects of the story are fictional. All characters that participate in sexual activity are over the age of 18.

###

Jackson saw the first rat after he'd been walking for a few minutes. A faint squeak; a flicker in the darkness. The flash of a tail.

The tunnel was dim, but there was enough light to see. There was a sort of ambient blue glow that hazed through the air. He wasn't sure where it was coming from. The sheen of the walls, slicked with water, reflected enough of it for him to keep his bearings.

He came across a four-way intersection. His three new options all looked identical: weathered, cracked slate, marbled over with moss. He hesitated. He was still naked; he had nothing to mark where he'd been. His feet were getting cold.

That gave him an idea. There was a thin layer of moldy slime underfoot. He dragged his toes through it, pushing it aside. It created a clear patch on the stone that marked the entrance to the passage he'd just come from.

This game was amazing.

Jackson hadn't seen much of Isis, yet. Hell, all he'd done was walk down this tunnel bare as the day he was born. It was already the most incredible game he'd ever played. It didn't have the fake neon-sheen of the Hub; it was gritty. It was real. He could feel that mold on the bottom of his feet, squishy, stuck between his toes. It made him shiver.

And he could smell it, too. The damp. Dead air that hadn't moved for years. He trailed his fingertips along one wall. He could feel the bumps and creases in the stone under a film of water.

The only thing telling him he was really in virtual reality was the red health bar in the upper right corner of his eyesight. It was currently full. The spoken command 'game menu' would open up more options, but otherwise, he was totally on his own.

He turned to the right and kept walking. He heard another squeak. More rats. Well, it was just a game. What were they going to do - bite him?

He reached a door. The wooden planks were rotted out around the edges; it looked about to fall apart. He could smell something on the other side - something nastier than mold. Jackson creaked it open.

He froze. The floor inside was littered with distinctly human skeletons. The corners of the room were piled high with bones. Some of them still had bits of meat or gristle sticking to them. He put a hand over his nose.

There was another squeak, and another. Jackson looked over. One of the bone-piles was crawling with rats. He immediately considered doing a 180.

Something stopped him. Through the canyon of bones, there was another door, set into the opposite wall. The hint of flickering orange light darted under the wood slats. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what was on the other side. But...this was an adventure, right? What did he have to lose?

He approached the door. He could hear a muffled sound on the other side. He opened it slowly, trying to avoid making a creak.

There was a fire pit on one side of the room, set deep in the stone. It had burned down to hot coals. Hunched over a nearby table was something gnashing its teeth over a fat hunk of meat.

Jackson could see a long tail protruding from the thing's backside. Its feet were paws. Flickers of light betrayed a long, blood-smeared snout and wicked fangs. Bristled fur covered its body. It looked like it was wearing rags.

The smell and the disgusting sounds of the rat-man digging in made his stomach flip. It picked its current bone clean and tossed it over its shoulder. It clattered into the pile. It used its knife to cut another segment of human from the half-eaten leg on the table, then began to feast again. It hadn't noticed him yet - it was fixated on the meal.

Jackson was about get the hell out of there when he saw the spear. It was across the room from him, past where the creature was sitting. Firelight gleamed off its point. Next to it was a wooden shield and scattered bits of leather armor, most of it shredded. He spotted a dagger near the spear, too.

He weighed the risks. He'd been banished, naked, into this ancient stone maze at the bottom of what was apparently the Tower of Babel. He could go back and try another path, but this wasn't a nice place. Sooner or later he'd run into something nasty again.

He dashed forward.

The thing grunted as he ran past. Wood scraped on stone as it pushed back its chair. Jackson decided that the spear was not for close quarters. He slid down and snatched up the dagger.

By the time he'd gotten a grip on the back of the shield, the creature was facing him. Sharp yellowed nails lined its hands. It snarled at him, then ran forward. Before it reached him, it threw the bit of meat it was holding.

Jackson blocked the projectile with his shield, but he didn't see the rat man's other hand. It flashed into its rags and came out with a dagger. The weapon plunged into Jackson's stomach.

Jackson's health bar dropped a wide notch. The creature's spittle-filled growl rolled over his face. It twisted the dagger. The health bar started grinding down at a steady rate.

Jackson was more surprised, than anything. The blade currently puncturing his body felt like a strong, very uncomfortable pinch. Definitely not something he wanted, but not so bad.

Jackson casually raised his hand and plunged his own dagger into the rat's neck. It made a sort of gurgled shriek, then fell back. It twisted on the floor in pain. Its hands quivered over the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.

It clearly hadn't expected him to counter. Most people probably dropped after a dagger in the gut. Jackson reached down and pulled the weapon out of himself. His health bar stopped dropping. It was still three-quarters full.

He checked where the curved dagger had been. There was no wound, no indication that he'd ever been stabbed. He stretched his stomach. No lingering pain, either. Aside from the hit to his health, he was unharmed.

The creature was still twitching. Jackson set his daggers down and grabbed the spear. The weight felt good in his hands. He lined up the tip, then jabbed it into the rat.

The game did not spare him the brutality of his act. Where the spear struck, the rat's flesh ripped open. He stabbed again, tearing a larger hole in the creature's abdomen. Its organs burst onto the ground. He jabbed it again in the chest, and it stopped moving.

Jackson wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He was still cold, but he was sweating. He'd never sweat like that back in the Hub. Isis was different.

He ripped his eyes off the creature's innards. The smell of decaying flesh was still hanging in the room. It felt like he'd really killed something. He really had killed something.

He wanted to throw up.

White mist rose out of the rat man's corpse. Jackson's eyes widened. The mist collected into a white orb, then rushed toward him. Jackson tried to jump out of the way, but it changed direction and struck him on the back, as if magnetized to his body.

He stood there, waiting for the curse of the rat to take him. Nothing happened.

No. Something was different. Underneath his health bar was a new indicator.

Essence: 6

"Game menu," Jackson said. The menu popped into view. His pale-as-a-sheet self was now holding a spear and shield in a neutral position. The spear was labeled 'rusty iron-tipped spear'. The shield labeled 'old wooden slat shield'.

He tried tapping the spear. An expanded view of the weapon appeared in the formerly blank right-hand field. A small description appeared under the weapon.

An old spear with a rusty iron tip and a cracked wooden shaft, approximately six feet in length. It was found amongst a few other weapons and a ruined set of armor - all that remained of a rattok's meal.

- Rune Slots: 2

- Durability: Low

Under the heading 'rune slots' were two black boxes. There were lines drawn from the boxes to the picture of the weapon. One indicated the shaft of the spear, and the other was lined up with the tip. If a rune was a magic spell, that meant he could place two enchantments on the spear. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to use magic at the moment. Maybe it had something to do with essence?

The item description told him something he didn't know - apparently the thing he'd slain was called a rattok. He immediately started reading all the other descriptions. The rest of his items didn't give him much more, but he did confirm that the rattoks were vile creatures that cannibalized even their own kind. They sounded pretty much like the generic rpg bad guy, the kind players could slaughter in droves without worrying about silly things like moral ramifications. Wondering if anything else had changed, he pressed the skill tree button.

The active skill panel was still blank, but the passive skill panel now had four boxes. The first was the same as before - sprinting. The three new boxes were labeled daggers, spears, and shields. Like his sprinting skill, they all had progress bars. Assumedly, by using one of the objects repeatedly, he could increase his skill in the respective field.

That was great, but he wasn't sure how it would happen. So far everything he did was under his own power. He ran as fast as he could in real life; he grew winded at the same pace. He stabbed as hard as he could stab. Would getting better with spears make him magically stab harder? Or would he actually become more skillful?

Well, he was a beta player, and the only person in the entire game for the moment. He'd have to figure it out himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but something caught his eye. There was a new symbol near the image of his avatar, a-

The door creaked. Jackson looked up. A rattok was standing on the other side of the room. It stared at him, took in the corpse of its companion, then looked back at him.

"Close menu," Jackson said.

The rattok lunged forward. Jackson stabbed with the spear, but he telegraphed his intentions too clearly. The rattok dodged, batted the shaft aside, and came in with a claw.

Jackson raised his shield. The rattok's nails raked the wood. A half second later, it slammed into the shield bodily.

Jackson stumbled, but kept the shield between himself and his assailant. The rattok flailed wildly, trying to get a claw around the wooden slats. Jackson dropped his spear and grabbed the shield with both hands. It turned into a shoving match.

Jackson was sliding backwards. The rattok was bigger than him, and stronger. He gave ground to stop himself from losing his balance. The shield buckled in his grip as the rattok striked it. A corner of the wood was torn away.

His back hit a wall. The rattok shoved forward again. Jackson's head struck the stone. It didn't hurt much, but his health bar dropped slightly.

The rattok beat at the shield with both arms. The hammer blows drove Jackson down onto a knee. The rattok's claws scraped the shield, his arm, and shoulder, the side of his neck. His red lifeline slipped lower and lower under the rain of attacks.

He needed to get out of this situation. He tried to shove back up, but the rattok easily overpowered him, keeping its height advantage. Jackson slid back on one knee to avoid the next clawing attack, but the flat of his foot crunched into bone. He had no more space to give.

Bone. Jackson looked at his ankle. A long rib poked at his leg. He dropped a hand from his shield and reached for it.

The rattok was able to shove his shield aside. Jackson took another blow to his health bar, a direct slash to the side of his head. He grit his teeth and ignored the paper-cut stinging sensation that needled his skin.

He turned to face the rattok again, still on one knee. The monster's eyes were wide. It was slavering, breathing heavily. Was it tired?

Jackson gathered his strength. He put his back into it and roared, shoving his shield into the rattok's face with everything he had. The monster put his hands up to fend off the blow, but Jackson was off the ground.

He threw himself onto the creature. It was a lot stronger than him, but it couldn't do much about his full weight all at once. Jackson's health bar took a few more small hits for his trouble as the creature struggled to get him off, but he'd been counting on that.

Taking hits to his health didn't slow him down. He couldn't be injured. All he had to do was get close.

He jammed the rib bone into the rattok's chest. It punctured the hairy skin. He pushed the part that stuck out with the heel of his palm. The rattok shrieked.

Jackson kept slamming the bone with his hand, twisting it back and forward, driving it in deeper. The rattok collapsed to the ground, carrying Jackson with him. They were a tangle of nails and fists and feet.

Jackson's hand touched his shield. It had fallen off his arm in the confusion. He grabbed the wooden plank as he kicked himself free of the monster.

He got to his feet, then jumped on top of the rattok, slamming both feet right where the rib was lodged in its abdomen. The rattok's cry came out as a wet cough. He'd knocked the wind out of it.

Jackson lowered himself down, straddling the monster. He raised his shield and slammed the thin edge into the creature's throat. He did that again, and again, crushing its windpipe into its neck. When that was done, he started smashing the shield into its face, battering it into the stone.

His vision turned red. He felt like he was floating somewhere, watching himself. He beat the rattok into the floor, smashing it into the rock until his arms burned and ached.

You have created a new skill: Shield Bash

He sat back. His breath came in heaving gasps. His bare skin was covered in blood. He gripped his shield so hard his fingers hurt.

What he'd just done finally start to hit him. He crawled up off the rattok's corpse. He'd turned the creature's snout to bloody white pulp.

An orb of white light rushed out of the rattok and into him. His essence ticked up to the number 13.

He slid away until his was huddled against the wall. This was just a game, right? Just a game. A game. Deep breath. What do you need to focus on?

Health. His heath down dangerously low. He checked out the menu. He was at about [6/50].

He stood up. He could move around freely with the menu open. He didn't want to be near the beaten corpse of the rat.

He glanced back at the new part of the menu he hadn't had a chance to investigate. There was an inverted pentagram at the bottom of his image, near the options and skill tree buttons. He pressed it.

The pentagram expanded to fill his view. Each of the five points was labeled with a different attribute.

Strength

Vitality

Agility

Compulsion

Persuasion

Spirit

The caressing reassurance of raw mathematics flowed over him. Yes - this was a game, an RPG, and here were his statistics. He could handle this. He'd played games with gore. The gore had never been coating his own hands, but he tried to relegate that fact into the mental bin of minor details.

He tapped each one of the statics with his finger. A brief description appeared, along with a slider to supply each attribute with essence, if he so chose.

Strength - Physical strength. Strike harder, jump higher, and carry great burdens.

Vitality - Stamina and health. Increase your health bar. Shrug off physical status effects.

Agility - Speed and dexterity. Run faster, react more quickly, and manipulate complex weapons with more skill.

Compulsion - The compulsive power of runes. Force the world to bend to your whim.

Persuasion - The persuasive power of runes. Convince the world that your way is better.

Spirit - Sense and use essence more efficiently. Resist the effects of magic. Hold more essence at once.

Jackson considered his options. He had 13 Essence. He could put as much as he wanted into each category.

At the moment, it seemed his biggest advantage was not actually receiving debilitating injuries when he was struck. The rattok didn't expect that - he was an anomaly. He was star-marked. They were stuck playing by real world rules. He had a health bar.

There was a second consideration, as well. This early, it wouldn't matter, but going forward, he'd have to pick a role. Jack-of-all-trades types didn't do well in roleplaying games; there was a reason players grouped up to tackle bigger challenges. Each person had their specialty. Some were front-line damage takers, the tanks. Others were speedy damage dealers, rogues, assassins. Other players served as healers, or cast powerful spells from the back lines - magicians.

Magic looked like it was shaping up to be a little complicated. The spirit attribute suggested that there was a maximum amount of essence he could hold at once. For now, he needed to press his advantage and ensure that none was wasted. He dumped 10 essence into Vitality and 3 into strength. He closed the pentagram screen. His health had jumped to [18.5/62.5], which told him his health had increased 12.5 points in exchange for 10 essence. Good to know.

His carry weight had gone up, too. Now it was maxed out at 35.75. That meant a quarter-point for each essence put in strength. He suspected that the ratios might change as he advanced - less gains for the same amount - but at least he finally had some hard numbers.

Jackson liked numbers. Numbers were solid. They never lied. They distracted him from the fact that rattok blood was drying on his naked skin.

He remembered what had flashed in front of his eyes when the battle was ending - a new skill. Shield Bash. He opened his skill tree. Lo and behold, his first active skill was there.

Shield Bash: Slam a foe with your shield to knock them back. Requires a shield.

- Level: 1

- Essence Cost: 10

- Progress: 23.4%

"Shit," Jackson muttered.

His active skills took essence to activate. A strong bash at the right time could easily decide a fight. If he'd known that beforehand, he wouldn't have spent everything so quickly.

He had to keep moving. He had his shield, somewhat battered and splattered from the last encounter, and his spear. He didn't have any way to carry the two daggers. He took a look at the leather armor in the corner. Most of it was shredded, probably by rattok claws.

On closer inspection, he found that it wasn't leather, but a sort of dried, toughened hide. The leggings were relatively intact. They were too big for his waist, and rode high on his heels, but it was better than nothing. A hide belt solved one of those problems, and it gave him a place to stick his two daggers.

He had blood smeared all over his torso, he was over half-dead, his clothes were too short and definitely not his style, and he was somewhere in a dark, rat creature-infested maze at the bottom of the Tower of Babel. But at least he wasn't naked anymore.

###

Like it usually did, Jackson's luck came in a wave. The second rattok must have been fetching water before it attacked him. A bucket of the stuff was sitting right inside the next doorway.

He realized he was thirsty. He wasn't sure if that was an in-game feeling, or an out-of-game feeling. In fact, he had no idea how long he'd been in the game. Probably not more than 20 or 30 minutes, tops.

He inspected the bucket. It looked clean enough - no mold, no blood. He took a sip. It tasted fresh. Hoping that the game's development team wasn't insane enough to model virtual bacteria, he tipped it back and took a few good swigs. Once he'd had his fill, used the rest to start scrubbing himself off, dipping some of the shredded leather into the water as a makeshift washcloth.

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