“Shut up!” I said through gritted teeth. “Fucking liar! When I kicked you in the face and stopped your terrified howling, there were still screams coming from the Cursed Bridge! Someone was still alive out there, and judging by the sounds, they were fighting! What? Thought no one would find out, scum? You forgot how well the wind carries sound. You abandoned your friends! Abandoned those who entrusted their lives to you! Bastard. Believe me — if we were down some death path right now, somewhere out of the way, I’d cut your stinking head right off your shoulders! And drown it in the nearest toilet!”
Silence fell.
Yorka and Bask tightened the tourniquets in silence. The dead plux’s paw twitched. The orc buried his forehead into the floor again, covering his ears with his hands, and fell silent. I swung my arm and threw the club I had been using at the ground near his shoulder. The coward shuddered and shrank back. I’m gonna have to wash my hands really well after this.
Receive party combat jobs (compulsory)?
Yes / No.
I decided to answer later.
I sighed and picked up the awl Yorka had tossed aside. I noted she had hooked the club back into her belt — she was picking up the habit.
I checked my interface. My finance section showed that the system had already paid out.
Balance: 50 sol.
Ten sol for each job.
Did we get a reward for killing the pluxes, too?
“Goblins! Zombies! Did you get compensation for the pluxes we killed?” I looked towards main 29 and saw a dome right above the intersection.
“I got compensation for two!” Said Bask. “Fifteen sol each.”
“I got it for two, too! Fifteen and twenty!”
“Excellent,” I grinned, satisfied. “I want you both walking around in pants tomorrow. Yorka, you help Bask buy some.”
“Sure! Can I buy yellow pants?”
“No. Gray or black for work. But personal stuff, I don’t care — get nasty pink socks if you want.”
“Pink isn’t nasty...”
“We have another job.”
“Blow up and die!” Yorka jumped up, grabbed her club, and peered into the empty hallway. Bask froze, awl at the ready.
“Relax. It’s not a combat job, but it’s not a fun one either. We have to take this.” I jabbed the toe of my sneaker into the orc lying at my feet, “to the nearest medblock. It’s a party job, doesn’t pay that much, and optional. Nine sol total. Should we take it, or should we leave this piece of shit right here in this puddle?”
No one answered. I looked at the faces of my party members, intrigued. Yorka was the first to give in and, hiding her eyes, muttered:
“I mean, we should take him to the medblock, really.”
Bask lowered his face, coughing.
“We should help him.”
“I’d vote to leave this trash here,” I said sincerely. “I wouldn’t even bandage him up. But fine. We’ll help him. Hey! Can you hear me?”
The orc shook silently.
“Hey!”
“I hear you... I hear you...”
“Get up!”
“My legs…”
“Stand up, you little shit! Get up now, before I shove this club up your stinking ass! Get up!”
The groaning orc got heavily to his feet. We led him forward — he was trying not to look down at the terrifying wounds on his legs.
“Run!” I barked, pushing him forward. “We saw how well you run! Run! GO!”
And the swaying orc started running, sliding a hand across the wall, leaving a long red trail behind.
“But he’s injured,” Yorka said softly.
I turned to her.
“Did you see him running not five minutes ago? Like a champion sprinter! His wounds didn’t bother him then.”
“Well...”
“And the screams of his dying friends behind his back didn’t bother him — didn’t even slow him down! Two pluxes hanging off his legs, eating him alive — and he ran! So let him keep running now! Our job is to accompany him to the medblock, not carry him. Let’s grab the pluxes. I’ll take two. Yorka, take one, and Bask, take one. Follow the cowardly asshole! Step lively now!”
“What about — ” Bask inclined his head towards the Cursed Bridge.
Four orcs had met their end out there. The pluxes were probably feasting on them now.
“No...” I chuckled grimly. “We’re not going to the slaughter. Now move out!”
The orc was winded, stopping thirty yards from the nearest medblock. He had run at first, then walked, then hobbled... And now he stood still, swaying on his feet like a scarecrow. I had to help him after all, had to drag him to the medblock and shove him inside. The door slid closed behind the shit-stained coward.
Balance: 53 sol.
I looked at my party members and grunted knowingly. They were wide awake now, and the adrenaline hadn’t worn off. There was no way they’d be able to fall asleep for the next few hours — no one would, unless they were used to these situations.
“Bask!”
“Yes?”
“Take us down the shortest route to the Jolly Plux. We’re gonna eat like kings tonight!”
“Meat,” he said, swallowing hard.
“Meat...” Yorka ran a hand across her watering mouth.
“Meat.” I smiled, grabbing the dead plux by the paw...
* * *
We were met with silent respect at the Jolly Plux.
The bouncers at the entrance parted to let us inside. Two guys jumped up to take the pluxes from us, asked us a few questions, and ran off. An older man approached me, and I talked with him briefly, coming to an agreement. Yorka and Bask found an empty wall ledge, huddling over the cups of lemonade that had appeared in front of them the instant they sat down. I walked over to the ATM, where the same curly-haired blond from before still sat, and got seventeen sol sent to me. Minus the fee, it came to fifteen.
Balance: 68 sol.
Each of us would now get a serving of grilled meat. I didn’t forget to mention Mads sent me, and the brigade member who ran the place promised us the best. After exchanging a few more words with him, I pressed him a little, promising not to forget about this nice establishment the next time we got our hands on fresh meat. And I got what I wanted. A short nod, a knowing look at me and my party. We were covered in blood, and Yorka was still shaking. We had clearly come from a fight, and they could meet us halfway in this. The three of us sat down. I drained half a cup of lemonade in one swig, then exhaled noisily, closing my eyes...
This was good. Life was good.
A low tapping sounded — the first part of what I had asked for had arrived. I glanced at the table to see our smiling waitress putting down three small plastic cups, filled almost to the brim with a murky liquid.
Bask sniffed. “This is...”
“Whoa! For us?” Yorka gingerly pulled one of the cups towards her.
I grabbed one for me and said:
“Bask. Here’s yours.”
Once all our cups were raised, I looked at both of them.
“Before we drink, I have a prompt here in my interface that just won’t go away. A prompt to become permanent fighters. Do we accept it? I’ll warn you right now, it’ll change our lives dramatically. What do you say, Bask? Are you ready to accept?”
“I’m all for it.”
“Yorka?”
“Blow up and die! Let’s do it!”
“Okay,” I smiled.
Receive party combat jobs (compulsory)?
Yes / No.
Yes. The prompt disappeared. The system now had three more official fighters who couldn’t ignore its orders.
“Congrats on your new status, fighters! I’d say that deserves a celebratory shot. Now let’s drink!”
We clinked our cups and knocked back the liquor, which burned our throats pleasantly.
“That’s nice!” I said, as the scorching feeling slid down into my stomach.
Bliss spread across Bask’s face. Yorka shook slightly, washing the booze down with sweet juice.