James A. Hunter
patreon
Wasteland Warlords Episode 5: Chapter 12 - Livestream Mic Drop
🕑 Added 2023-10-12 17:00:01 +0000 UTCThe Ravenous Slender Essence was already up in the Soul Index and ready to go, but Clay didn’t trigger it. He couldn’t afford to throw away his one shot at breaking free of this attack just because he’d been too hasty.
Slow is smooth, smooth is fast. The thought flashed through his mind as he scanned the Index.
Finally, he found what he wanted—the Incant Essence of an Aberrational Zealot.
His hands didn’t move, but he felt his mind stretching as if it were pulling back an invisible bowstring. With less than two seconds to go, he let loose, sending a bolt of flaming psychic energy zinging straight into one of the Warden’s pupils.
With a cry, the Cosmic Horror flinched back, all of his eyes blinking and tearing up. Free to move his body again, Clay drew the Wyrd West revolver and opened fire, still shooting off those flaming mind bolts with the Aberrational Zealot’s Essence. They took surprisingly little Magicka to cast. Both being dedicated spell slingers, a lot of his and the Zealot’s abilities overlapped.
With the combo barrage of fiery psychic attacks and Wyrd projectiles, the Warden was on the back foot for the first time. Clay pressed forward, encroaching on the Cosmic Horror with a cautious, measured tread. A halo of black tendrils crept out of the monstrous Dungeon Lord. Clay didn’t care. He kept moving, steadily pressing forward. The Warden might be a big shot when it came to throwing magic and radiation attacks around, but the Cosmic Horror never engaged physically, and Clay thought that might just be the key to this whole shebang.
When Clay stepped into that cloudy ring, the tendrils sank into his skin, futilely trying to give him radiation poisoning, but the Aberrational Zealot’s Cleansing Flame kicked in. Clay went up like a match head, blazing bright orange in the predawn darkness. The fire burned away the black tendrils and eradicated the poison before it could take root.
“Run for your lives!” a panicky, gurgling voice outside the smoky black yelled.
“All Triple S personnel evacuate!” a more commanding voice ordered.
In the background of all the yelling, Clay could hear vehicles kicking up sand and the whup-whup-whup of a helicopter scrambling. Sounded like the prisoners were about to take control of the prison. Good. It was high time for a personnel changeover around here.
There was just one last Cosmic Horror standing in the way of a total hostile takeover.
Clay pushed forward again, still firing off those psychic bolts. He wasn’t quite within a human’s arm-length of the Warden, but that wasn’t about to matter here in a second. He switched seamlessly midstride from Zealot to Ravenous Slender.
Unlike the previous incarnations from the Soul Index, the Slender changed Clay’s body entirely. The ground got a lot farther below him as his limbs stretched and his torso elongated. His sight blacked out and the sounds and smells of the prison yard turned war zone muffled as his eyes, nose, and ears disappeared into his head and skin covered it.
Clay couldn’t see the Warden with his eyes MIA, but the Slender could sense the Cosmic Horror floating and trying desperately to get out of range. Going in and out of existence like a light flipping on and off, Slender Clay blinked forward, catching up to the Warden in no time. He bent down—a distance that felt like miles and miles—and a nightmare mouth unzipped from his featureless face, stretching almost all the way to the back of his head.
The Warden was pumping out spells, but Slender Clay had a way to deal with that. He loomed over the Warden and opened the Slender mouth impossibly far, consuming the hastily flung starborn attack magic with ravenous hunger. And he didn’t stop there. He slinkied forward, mouth stretching around the amorphous, eye-covered blob that was the Warden himself. He stood and lifted the Cosmic Horror into the air, then threw back his head, shaking him down the Slender’s endless gullet.
Clay felt the Warden’s misty tentacles trying to grab hold and pull the Cosmic Horror back up from the Slender’s bottomless throat. But there was no escaping. Thunderous attacks bounced off the slimy walls, but Clay knew there was no magic that could help him now. It was the deadliest strength of the Ravenous Slender—an ability known as Unfathomable Appetite. That maw was a black hole in its own right, and anything unfortunate enough to find its way in never found its way out.
Kicking and screaming, the Warden slid down Slender Clay’s throat and dropped into the unknown.
Deafening stillness blanketed the Supermax. Until, of course, Joe broke it.
“Hoo!” The big redneck whooped joyfully, his mech suit clanking as he gave a theatrical shiver. “That one’s going to be paying me a visit or two in my night terrors, let me tell you, Lumberheads! Thank God I was never the wet-the-bed type. When I’m not drinking Hennessy, anyway. Hennessy: it’ll empty your wallet, fill your bladder up, and put your lights out—is what I’d say if they wanted me to sponsor them. Something to think about, if any of you Hennessy bigwigs are watching. Or should I say, ‘something to drinkabout?’ Eh?”
“They would be your sponsor,” Alex said wearily, “and minus ten for puns.”
“I think we need to revisit the rule,” Joe said. “I’m kind of starting to like puns. What do you think, Lumberheads? Should puns be an automatic plus ten points if they’re really good? Let us know in the comments.”
As Clay released the Slender Essence, shrinking back to his regular size and regrowing all the features he was used to having on his face, the notifications came fast and hard.
[LEVEL UP! x 11]
[You have 120 undistributed stat points]
Congratulations! You have defeated the current Dungeon Lord of Supermax Conglomerated Inquiries and Prison, the Warden. This Stronghold is now vacant; as a Freehold Incant you may claim it for yourself and assume the role of Dungeon Lord.
If you dismiss your rightful claim, the Dungeon will lie fallow. Be advised, however, that any current Floor Overseer will be entitled to lay claim for themselves if you decline. Should another monster claim this Stronghold, you will have to challenge them in a duel and win to reassert your superiority.
Would you like to claim Dungeon Location: Supermax Conglomerated Inquiries and Prison? Yes/No
Warning: The Dungeon Lord Throne of Supermax Conglomerated Inquiries and Prison comes with a series of restrictions and requirements, most notably keeping specific allies placated to at least a level of 4 out of 6 Placation Units. Fall below this, and you will be unseated as Dungeon Lord of Supermax Conglomerated Inquiries and Prison and replaced by someone who can keep your allies happy.
Well, that was menacing as hell. No wonder the Warden had been jumping through hoops to keep the “puny humans” happy. If Clay hadn’t already been planning to turn the Warden’s throne down, that warning would have decided it for him.
He eyed the fleeing ICSOs and rooster tails of dust kicked up by the Triple S jeeps as they disappeared over the dunes, heading for the containment wall. A few of the sea creature guards piled onto the running boards or latched a claw onto the bumpers to be dragged behind them into the sunrise, but a lot more were hightailing it deeper into the wasteland. Prisoners in their green jumpsuits got the idea and did the same, scattering into the IZ before any government reinforcements could show up and corral them.
The helicopter the DCU had arrived in circled overhead, but none of the so-called crimefighters were moving.
“I’m giving you one chance,” Clay said, staring them down. “Get the hell out of here. You stick around and harass my family for one more second, and you’re dead.”
“Don’t think this means you won,” spat the Merciful Shepherd from his spot by the concertina wire. “This isn’t over.”
“Yeah,” Dark Sentinel growled. “This is just a tactical retreat.”
Crawley, perhaps deciding that shutting the hell up was the better part of valor, grabbed Dark Sentinel around the waist and disappeared in a puff of blue-black smoke. A second later, the pair reappeared in the bay of the chopper.
“Sour grapes!” Joe yelled up at the chopper, cupping his hands around his mouth like that would help Dark Sentinel hear him over the blades. “Evil always loses, and losers always make excuses!”
From the obscene gesture Dark Sentinel shot back at Joe, maybe he had heard after all. Or maybe he got the gist of the sentiment from the smug look on Joe’s face and the thrusting victory dance Joe started doing, accompanied by his strobing neon Body by Dew.
“Trash like you always gets yours in the end,” Merciful Shepherd sneered. “You’ll see.”
“Which end?” Joe crowed. He turned around and started twerking violently toward the Shepherd. “This end?”
Another poof of blue smoke brought Crawley back to the prison yard for Wildflame.
Last to be evacuated, Merciful Shepherd scowled at the Jaeger squad like they were something he wanted to scrape off his fancy boots.
“Aw, look at ’em run, Lumberheads.” Joe shook his head happily and let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Well, it’s been one helluva day, hasn’t it? The Jaeger squad stood up for what was good and right and exposed the liars who claimed they were on the side of the little man—with your help, of course. We couldn’t have done it without you viewers watching and telling your friends. Thanks for tuning in—all half a million of you! Now that the whole government-Big Pharma cat’s out of the bag for real, I’d say write to your congressman, but he was probably in on this all along…”
Joe’s endless rambling faded to the background as a warm hand grabbed Clay’s arm and, with a dose of Ettin strength, spun him into a kiss.
“I didn’t think you could get sexier,” Alex said, pulling back long enough to rub her forehead against his. “But turns out prison bad boy is pretty hot on you. Maybe later we should play conjugal visit.”
Clay grinned. “I think we could work that out. I’m pretty sure the Warden said these jumpsuits were complimentary.”
“Look out!” Shifty yelled from his hiding spot behind a guard booth.
Clay’s head snapped up.
Over Alex’s shoulder, the Merciful Shepherd’s crook, now glowing with some sort of deadly attack, streaked toward her back like a missile.
In the time it would have taken a regular human’s eyes to focus, Clay triggered Fast Hands and jerked Alex out of the way. The crook sailed through the space where her heart had been a split second before. The weapon hit the ruins of the cellblock behind them and exploded, hurling bits of concrete shrapnel out like a bomb blast. With the enhanced Fateslinger speed, the explosion seemed to happen in slow motion, debris floating through the air and people and creatures starting to duck or throw their arms over their faces.
Still running at top speed, Clay raised the M4, bypassing the rifle trigger for the M203 below. The Merciful Shepherd’s face was just starting to twist in an enraged snarl at his thwarted sucker punch.
With a squeeze of the launcher’s trigger, Clay sent a grenade barreling toward the superhero. Except it wasn’t just one round, the way it should’ve been. A rapid series of notices popped up in the corner of his eye.
[Call for Fire Activated!]
Call for Fire was not one of the Essences listed in the Index, and Clay had never seen the ability before this very second. The only thing he could figure was that he’d just unlocked a bunch of fancy new Mystic Fateslinger spells, thanks to the barrage of new levels he’d earned by killing the Warden.
Nearby, Joe’s mouth formed a perfect “O” as he tracked the flying projectile. His camera had a perfect angle on the grenade from the second it left the launcher until it slammed into the Merciful Shepherd and detonated. Clay had fired plenty of 40mm grenades during his time in Jordan, and though they were powerful, a single grenade never would’ve had the raw oomph to take down an Incant as powerful as the Shepherd. But his round didn’t hit like a grenade. It hit like an artillery blast, draining nearly every ounce of Clay’s Magicka all at once.
Time lurched back into its regular speed, revealing the smoking remains of the dead Shepherd. What little of him there was left.
[LEVEL UP! x2]
[You have 140 undistributed stat points!]
“I warned you,” Clay muttered, his voice loud in the stunned silence of the prison yard. He closed out of the notifications. “You mess with my family, you die.”
Crawley, who had just popped back into the area to grab the last member of the DCU, shot Clay a glare.
“If you think just because you killed Shepherd that you’re home free, you’re delusional,” the caster said. “You think we’re screwed because we’re all over the internet kicking some Incant ass? Your dumbshit redneck friend just live-streamed you murdering a superhero to half a million people. It’s gonna be all over the internet by tonight. Kiss your ass goodbye, pal.”
With those parting words, a raised middle finger crawling with arcane sigils, and a puff of blue-black smoke, Crawley joined his remaining teammates in the helicopter. The blades beat out a dying rhythm as they retreated toward civilization.
Clay scowled, knowing the guy was right. He didn’t consider killing in the defense of somebody else murder, but odds were good that the folks who had sunk millions of dollars, stat potions, and publicity hours into the dick he’d just killed were going to disagree. It was probably a pretty safe bet, too, that the courts back in civilization would be on their side. Weird how often dollar signs equated with justice outside the IZ.
“Joe,” Clay said, turning to his brother. “Are you still rolling?”
The big mech-suited redneck grimaced sheepishly. “Yeah, bro, sorry.”
Clay shook his head. “Don’t be. Let me talk to your audience.”
“Go for it,” Joe said, still uncharacteristically somber. He tapped the blinking red light in the suit’s core. “You’re on, and half a million Lumberheads are listening.” He gulped, seemingly regaining some self-assurance from the motion, and said, “Isn’t that right, kiddies? If you want to hear what my bro has to say, smash that Like button. Or if you’ve already done that, drop a ‘hell yeah’ in the comments.”
After a glance into the middle distance, presumably at the number of comments and Likes rolling in, Joe nodded encouragingly at Clay.
Clay cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. Public speaking wasn’t one of his strengths. He hadn’t even liked praying out loud back home in church, and that was with thirty people tops listening to him; this was literally thousands of times bigger than that. But it had to be done, had to be said before the powers that be had a chance to put their spin on things.
He took a fortifying breath and launched into it.
“Y’all just saw the truth about the DCU, the guys you thought were on your side—hell, that we all thought were on our side. Right over there stands the Jordanian Incant,” he said, indicating Herman, who was still surrounded by his summoned stone demons. “We were told he was killed in an ambush after taking out the Blind Oracle. What really happened was he went rogue after he learned about all the heinous things our government and Big Pharma were working on out here. That’s why they took him down. They’re just as likely to come after me now, but I don’t care. Let them come. The Jaeger squad isn’t running. They know right where to find us—out here in the IZ.”
He shifted his stance and stared into the blinking red light of the camera, feeling like he was staring right into the heart of every person out there watching.
“To anyone else out there who’s sick of the lies, deception, and playing a game where the rules constantly change to favor everybody but you, you can make the IZ your home, too. The wasteland is dangerous as hell, but it’s also free. You risk your life every day out here, but you’re doing the same in civilization. At least out here, it’s an honest gamble, and you won’t have to give up your convictions piece by piece just to feed yourself and your family. Come if you want. You’ll be trading your safe little cages for a big, bad world and a chance to make a life for yourself, but the future you build out here in the IZ will be a future you control, where you make a difference.”
Clay nodded at Joe to cut the feed.
“Stream off!” Joe said, a note of awe lingering in his voice. He looked at Clay with wide eyes. “That was the most beautiful speech I’ve ever heard. Come here, you big eloquent jarhead, you!” He slung an arm around Clay’s neck and gave him a noogie. “I missed you, buddy!”
Clay shoved his brother off and raked his hair back into some semblance of order.
Nearby, Griff whistled. “I might not be a native of this world, but even I know you just kicked the monster of all murder hornet nests, lad.”
Alex slipped an arm around Clay and leaned into him.
“Pretty badass, though,” she said.
“I aim to please.” His tone wasn’t as flippant as he would’ve liked, but he hugged Alex’s small form to his side and let the thankfulness that she was all right fill in the shaky spots inside that little speech had exposed.
Herman stalked over, his stone demons following.
“They’re gonna come after you with all cannons blasting,” the rogue Incant said. “You better get your ass into hiding.”
“That’s what they want us to do,” Clay said. “They want us to pop up and disappear overnight, so everybody can forget. That’s not going to happen. We’re going to keep fighting the good fight, and Joe’s going to keep broadcasting it all over the place. Anybody who wants us gone is going to have to come out here and do it themselves.”
“Yeah!” Joe pumped his fist. “Come at us, big bad wolves! The Jaeger squad’s ready and waiting for you!”
