Sync raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so only you need to be playing, and anyone can work for you, then? That’s what I needed to know. Thanks, sweetie.”
She flashed a coy grin, reached her WHIM-bearing arm out, and tapped Trisha on the shoulder.
Trisha yelped as a jolt from Sync’s WHIM shot through her, and her convulsions tipped the chair backward into the pool. Trisha splashed into it with nothing but her respective censor bars and the “Unconscious” debuff. She floated facedown in the pool, very undignified.
A stunning black-and-white floral swimsuit with gold trim replaced Sync’s “future wizard” garb, which included jewelry, a stylish sarong around her waist, and a sunhat. Her patch of glittery indigo hair shifted to a rich golden brown with a braid.
Man, that’s a look she should keep…
Sync smiled at the other ladies who gawked in fear. “Does anyone have a problem?”
The three others shook their heads and quickly opened their WHIM maps to order their simps around.
Sync motioned to Pool Boy Steve’s net. “May I?”
“Of course.” He hurried over and handed Sync the net.
She fished the unconscious Trisha out of the pool so she wouldn’t drown then threw a towel over her like a corpse at a crime scene. Trisha snored under the towel.
Hefting the dead weight of an unconscious person was no joke, and I wondered what Sync’s Strength stat was at.
“Thanks.” She handed the net back to Pool Boy Steve, slid a dry chair to the spot where Trisha had been, and plopped down with a contented sigh.
I wandered up next to her. “Well done. Assertive. I’m a big fan of this class on you. Definitely keep it.”
She shook her head and brought up her WHIM map. “Only as long as I need to. But I think this will work. When a Data Point’s trail strengthens, we can build our way to it and keep it consistent by stopping the others from building around it or changing the cityscape. From there, I can access what we need. Might take a little while, though.”
“Now you just need to find a simp to start building.” I scanned the streets for some poor, lower-level chump for Sync to order around. “What about Pool Boy Steve here?”
He simply stared back at me and shrugged.
“Ugh, don’t bother with him,” Ashleigh said. “He won’t build anything we ask him to. He just cleans the pool.”
“And I love every minute of it,” Steve added.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sync staring at me through her sparkling sunglasses.
“Oh, shell no,” I protested. “Use Trisha’s simp. Reggie.”
“He’s all the way out in the desert. It’ll take him too long to get back.” She beamed at me and clapped her hands twice. “Now, I’ll take an equipment store right there.”
A ghostlike structure appeared where she’d pointed, waiting to be built. Meanwhile, I received the offer for a new objective.
| Build a Level 1 Equipment Station for Player Sync |
| Reward: $100 AllCash |
| 100 XP |
| Accept? |
I kept my arms folded. “Not a chance. I’m nobody’s simp.”
“Look, we need this done fast. We’re both after the same thing here. I can tell you what to look for. It’ll go much faster,” Sync reasoned. “The sooner it’s done, the closer we are to getting out. So suck up your pride. Besides, you’ll get AllCash and XP for building, and you need to repair your gear and buy better equipment, right?”
I kept my arms folded, and my eye twitched. You’re definitely fired as soon as this is over.
* * *
[Initiating Player Review]
[Icarus – Level 14 Player]
[Game/Class: The Godfeather]
[Beginning Report]
“No question,” Icarus mumbled as a funeral procession of Shouldérmon passed by on the street. A sullen group of teenagers followed, along with one suspiciously middle-aged guy named Kyle_Corgi. Icarus ached at seeing one of his childhood favorites in such a brutalized state. “He was definitely here…”
“Icarus, where’s the target? You said he’d be here.” One of his NPC Godfeather companions, a guy with the feather-frilled head of a Secretarybird, held up his revolver. “If I don’t shoot someone soon, I’m gonna forget how, ya know?”
Donnie, a Condor-headed dude, scoffed and folded his feathery arms. Along with Jerry—a Harpy Eagle—Donnie was the only other Player along for this mission. The rest were NPCs. “Maybe the Godfeather was wrong about you.”
“There’s a nasty lag with the objective marker every time the city changes, which is all the flockin’ time here. But Erik and Sync were here. We’re gettin’ close.” Icarus sneered and snatched him by his coat lapels. “Wag your beak at me again, Donnie, and see what happens. I got an IQ of 136. It’s been tested.”
After their targets had escaped with a flying rickshaw in the most improbable and ridiculous turn of events yet, Icarus and his entourage of Godfeathers had navigated the distance to the bridge so they could finally cross the canyon into the city and continue searching for Sync and Erik Shaw.
“Madonn’, I can’t wait to find fast travel points…” he muttered. The objective marker remained at the Shouldérmon street tournament grounds. Icarus tapped his WHIM. “C’mon, c’mon.”
It updated to a point near where they’d already searched—the heart of SimpCity.
Donnie flexed his wings angrily. “Ahh, we were just there!”
“Yeah, but they’re close, and this time they won’t get away.” Icarus grinned. Revenge was near. “You’ve escaped once, maybe twice, but third time’s the charm.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Donnie rubbed his bird-chin. “Ehhh, it’s really more like the fifth time, if you count the chase through the woods.”
“I don’t remember askin’ you a Godfeatherin’ thing!” Icarus shot back.
Donnie held up his feathered fingers. “Dude, chill. It’s a game.”
“And that’s why you’re followin’ my orders, you filthy casual,” Icarus muttered. “C’mon. We’re wastin’ time.”
* * *
Building structures for Sync involved standing by them and pretending to build them. I’d move my hands around as if digging, laying concrete, or hammering random points while the structure materialized around me.
I’d played Overlord Builder games as a kid, where the villagers or construction crews would hammer random points, and buildings would manifest, minus the Sims. This was pretty much the same thing, except I had to do the work.
I noticed the buildings actually constructed faster if I mimed the work with enthusiasm instead of just yawning my way through it. Apparently the more I behaved like an actual simp, the more the game rewarded me with progress.
After building the equipment shop, I spent my freshly earned credits repairing my ballistic vest and buying a tactical gray t-shirt to fit underneath it, along with a chest harness and a combat knife. From the waist up, I looked bad-asp, but naturally, it clashed with the Octo-Boxers and my Air Hortons.
But since any hope of looking cool had died long ago, I lived with it. After all my purchases, I had just over a $1,000 AllCash. I had enough for a handgun or ammo, but not both. I still couldn’t find any ammo for Rook’s Revenge.
I decided to save my AllCash. I had $1,029 left.
Once I’d finished my business, Sync laid out more construction plans. I built around a square radius with different shops and buildings, securing a portion of the city, but it didn’t seem to get us any closer to the objective.
The whole time, Silas practically hibernated on my shoulder, though he occasionally slapped me in his sleep as if to remind me he was still alive.
After finishing the latest building projects, I returned to the pool and drove my hands into my hips. “This doesn’t seem to be working, and I’ve built a whole subdivision.”
Danyelle curled her lip. “Yeah, and not a well-organized one either. It’s lowering our property values.”
Sync glared at her, and she shut up.
Trisha was still passed out under the towel, and Pool Boy Steve had helpfully sprayed her exposed limbs with AllVerse sunscreen so she wouldn’t get burned.
Sync checked the line of code scrolling across the holographic screen in front of her. “It’s helped me narrow it down, and now that you have your gear repaired… I think part of the problem is that the Data Point might be subterranean, which would explain a lot.
“There’s already a subway station down there. Either someone built it and never finished it, or it was already here and no one bothered to add rail lines. If we finish it, we’ll have unchanging access to different parts of the city.”
“You could get off your well-contoured asp and help me,” I said.
She raised an eyebrow at me, sighed, then rose from her pool chair. “It’s probably best not to be a sitting duck, anyway. The AI will find a way to make us a target here, too, even if we’re far from the combat games…” She shook her head then grinned back at the pool chair. “Is this what it feels like? Just hanging out while you order everyone around?”
I set my jaw. “No. Not at all. I constantly work harder than everyone else. Deals need to be made, priorities set and determined, funds allocated, and people need direction and supervision. It never ends. When there’s a problem, who does everyone turn to? Not to mention all the years I busted my asp to get to where I am now. You’re one of our lead programmers. You should know better than that.”
She rolled her eyes behind the sunglasses. “It was just a joke, Erik.”
“Maybe. I get tired of everyone assuming leadership is easy or that I just sit in my ivory tower smoking cigars and sipping single-malt McCallahan like some Bond villain.”
She narrowed her eyes at me.
“Well, mmkay,” I conceded. “I do that as a little calming ritual, like early coffee contemplation before anyone runs to you with a problem. But only on Saturdays. Let’s go.”
Sync slipped on her girly beach sandals and started to walk with me, but she paused and glanced back at Pool Boy Steve, who was swishing his net through the water despite it already being pristine.
“You had a good point. We should have help if we’re laying rail lines.” Turning up the charm in her voice, she called, “Hey, Steve? Would you be willing to lend a hand, please?”
Pool Boy Steve ditched his net, thumped his chest, and in a blink, his poolside attire shifted to shirtless construction gear with faded jeans and steel-toed boots. His physique nearly matched mine… nearly. His moniker changed.
| Builder Boy Steve – Level 35 NPC |
| Occupation: Builds what needs building and builds it well |
“Sure thing,” Steve jogged up to us.
The poolside ladies’ jaws all dropped.
“How?” Danyelle whined. “He’s never listened to us! He just stood there and pretended he couldn’t hear us. We thought he was bugged.”
Builder Boy Steve glanced back at them. “Would it have killed you to say please for once? Besides, you’re not my type.”
Sync arched her brows at the other ladies, tossed her ashen hair over her shoulder, and sashayed with us toward the entrance of the subway station.
Silas yawned and stretched his tentacles from my shoulder. “I say, that was a right refreshing nap. Who’d think that winning, or slaying, was so exhausting?”
“Tell me about it,” I replied.
He glanced at Sync, then at Builder Boy Steve. “I seem to have missed some developments. Who’s this bloke? Quite the specimen… for a human at least.”
“What?” I protested. “I’m way more attractive—and shredded—than him. And I’m real, not a hunk of ones and zeros.”
“Hunk is right,” Silas crooned. “I mean, look at the size of his biceps!”
Sync darted ahead, formed a square with her thumb and forefingers, then closed one eye and inspected each of us. “Hmm, I don’t know. I think Steve might be the winner.”
“Clearly,” Silas added.
Steve shrugged. “I do what I can.”
“And humble, too,” Silas gave me the side-eye. “Unlike some.”
“No, no, this is ludicrous. You can’t even judge him accurately. He’s wearing jeans, which could be hiding chicken legs. I—don’t we have work to do?”
I realized they were messing with me, evident by Sync’s puckish smirk. One that looked even better with her current attire.
We descended into the subway station. Currently, it was just the platform with the beginnings of a rail track since no one had built the rest. A few dim lights lit the space, and it was eerily quiet, shielded from the noise of the city above.
Sync checked her WHIM and nodded. “The trail is getting stronger, and it’s easier to read down here where nothing is changing. We can keep building and sending out rail lines, and ideally, we’ll come right up to it or underneath it.”
I massaged the bridge of my nose. “Tell me something: you hacked open that door back at the treatment plant. Why can’t you just… do that stuff all the time? Like, tear open the Matrix here, Neo, and get us where we need to be. Why all this runaround?”
“It doesn’t quite work like that, and even if it did, it would be a terrible idea. I need to play by the rules as much as possible. Each alteration and hack I make affects the AllVerse, and Lucretia. The bigger the hack, the more drastic the alterations, and the bigger the target we become. The AI works to preserve the fidelity and integrity of the game, so if I’m hacking and modding all the time, it’ll send up huge red flags in the system.”
I blinked. “Lotta words just to say, ‘only when absolutely necessary.’”
“Yep. Let’s send out a rail line that way, annnd… that way.”
Steve flexed his arm, and a sledgehammer manifested in his grasp as if he were an Asgardian comic book hero. “Alright. Let’s get to it.”
“What a can-do attitude,” Silas said. “You’re alright, Steve.”
As much as I hated to admit it, the sight of NPC Steve getting after it inspired me to work with gusto, too. Transparent diagrams of rail lines appeared, and we constructed them, burrowing into the world beneath the city and occasionally running into subterranean infrastructures like sewers.
Over the next half hour, Steve and I built a series of subway rails going in opposite directions. Sync would send me messages on the WHIM chat to change directions, branch off, and update me on the data trail.
Silas chatted about different points of importance to the Karjok, so I focused on my work and tuned him out as best I could, knowing that each section of the rail line I constructed could bring me closer to home.
Eventually, Builder Boy Steve and I intersected our lines. The four of us stood at the intersection while Sync typed code on her WHIM.
“Yes, good. We’re on the right track,” she affirmed.
“Hey, good one!” Silas added.
Sync smirked while I sighed. She looked absolutely absurd standing on a dingy subway rail platform dressed for a day at the beach. And by absolutely absurd, I mean fantastic.
It was pretty distracting.
I began constructing another section of endless rail lines when I broke into a massive open space and stumbled upon a cistern. I was going so fast that I accidentally fell into the thing. It was embarrassing, but fortunately, only Silas was there to see it.
“Oh, well done,” Silas muttered.
“Shut up,” I hissed.
The water was only about waist-height, but the cistern was enormous. The walls and pillars were made of old brick.
“I mean it. Finding water is always commendable in my sea scroll.”
“No, I mean be quiet. I hear something…”
Things moved in the murky water around me. Splashes and sloshing echoed off the stone walls. I couldn’t shake the memory of our Animal Flossing encounter with Bernie and hoped that wasn’t happening here.
“Ah! We’re surrounded!” Silas cried.
The glints of many eyes peered at me from the water’s surface, and I realized my situation was much, much worse than my time with Bernie the shark.
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break--Royal Road. They call us the Critical Hitters.
In the desolate desert of the North American Sector, the government harvests the Soul Energy of siblings Eos and Maxima in secret.
When their powers attract the attention of a dangerous criminal organization, their routine lives are shattered. Eos and Maxima must search for freedom and the truth about their past as hostile forces close in.
The answers they seek lie behind one word—!
Occam's Favor
A grizzled ex-mech pilot is drawn back into the Everwar, a decades-long conflict raging across Jupiter’s moonscape.
This time he refuses to fight alone, bringing a crew of misfits and a mech powerful enough to rewrite the war itself.
is a can't-miss power-scaling mech series. Read it now!
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Dungeon Crawler Carl Audio Immersion Tunnel for Soundbooth Theater, and he's the lead writer for the Dungeon Crawler Carl Role Playing Game.
