Chapter One Hundred and Four - Last Surviving Fortress

A couple of weeks prior....

[Welcome back to My Final Podcast.  Seven Chances here.  Before the Rift opens, I would like to tell all my supporters that yes, I will be at the Apocalypse Convention next weekend with my faction, the Last Surviving Fortress.  If you wish to know if I or the Faction Leader, Black Zeus will be cosplaying... I'm afraid the answer will probably disappoint you.  That's not to say that all members of the Last Surviving Fortress will be wearing civilian outfits, but sorry I definitely will not be amongst the ones who aren't.

[Okay, the Rift is open.  One Smooth Operator is leading us today as we suspect.. yes we were correct.  The Rift is a racing battleground.  I am so glad I upgraded my Doom Buggy the other day.  I should be able to make some decent drifts around the corners this time rather than turn into a spinning wheel of burning metal like last time.  I don't think I will live that one down for a long while.

[I see that Thirteen Levels of Purgatory have opted for custom cars... how predictable.  As usual our rivals have more money than sense.  Never Mind the Wicked are pulling out all stops, tanks, buggies, you name it.  Is that a Nightmare 1000 Motorbike?  Seriously? Where did the Valkyries scavenge that sweet machine?!  Aw, now I am seriously jealous...]

A short while later, Jordan Potter removed his headset and placed his controller on the table, before uploading the podcast recorded via his connected PC.  He then picked up the mobile phone he'd set to vibrate and dialled a number.  It didn't take long for the call to connect.

"Hey Jordan," the man greeted.  "How'd it go?"

"It was a racer," Jordan replied, running his hand through his short hair.  "We came in second.  Pity you had to work late."

"Yeah, well what can you do," came the reply.  "It's been hectic since Shaun left without notice.  And no one's answered the ad yet.  Want to work in the bar with me?"

"I'll pass," Jordan refused.  He was attending university so that he didn't have to get a 'real job' yet.  Why would he want to change that when he didn't have to?

"So who came in first?" His friend asked.  "Please tell me it wasn't Purgatory!"

"Nah, they were, but one of their wheels flipped out when we hit this unexpected sand dune just after the fourth turn," Jordan laughed.  "It was an amazing sight.  I got to record it in full action.  With that out, they couldn't place high enough over all.  The Valkyries slipped past us in the last few seconds.  I didn't get to see how they did it, though."

"You win some..."

"You lose some," Jordan finished for him.

"I'll watch the podcast later, maybe I can find a few clues."

"Hey, Adam," Jordan decided to confirm.  "You are coming next weekend, you aren't down to work or anything?"

"Well, the boss is pretty pissy about it," Adam sighed, wincing as he recalled the argument he'd had not that long ago when he had found out the evil woman had put his name down for shifts, despite him booking time off months ago.  "But the woman can go to hell, I said I couldn't work next weekend five months ago!  I've worked shift after shift extra since Shaun went without complaint."

"It's probably why she thought she could put you down for this weekend," Jordan laughed.

"Probably," he agreed.  "I'm going to grab a snack and catch some zzz's, I still have my other job in the morning."

"You are mental," Jordan told him.

"Needs must, my friend, needs must."

*****

As dawn finally rose over the horizon, Adam Harris slipped out of bed, the old mattress springs creaking in protest.  He was a large, muscular built young man, with deep olive skin and chocolate brown hair, his bangs just long enough to touch his upper lashes. His eyes were a warm amber colour. He headed for the shower to ease some of the discomfort sleeping on the old mattress caused, before going to the kitchen, once dressed, to throw together some breakfast.  There was a lone egg in the fridge and some milk.  Looked like he was frying pancakes this morning.  He took out his spoils, leaving a forlorn empty space, shutting the fridge door on it and noting the post it on the door.

Working a double shift.  Don't bother to cook.  Fran.

He took down the post it and tossed it in the bin.  Egg shell soon followed.  He whipped the batter until satisfied before pouring a little of the mix into the sizzling frying pan.  The heavenly scent reached him as he patiently waited for the moment he could flip it.  The number of pancakes he had lost to impatience was too many to count, but he had the hang of it now.  The batter made three large pancakes and he drizzled over maple syrup and chopped up the last banana as an extra.

He wolfed the food down his throat, realising that time was not on his side, placed the plate in the sink and headed to work.  For eight hours, excluding lunch, he worked in a garage full of noise, grease and man sweat.  He'd sort of fallen into this career, his aunt's ex-boyfriend was a mechanic.  He'd already started his apprenticeship when the bloke cheated on her.  He didn't want to waste the seven months he'd been apprenticing for, but he had to find another garage willing to take him on so he could finish the course.  He'd been lucky though and luckier still when they had agreed to keep him on once he'd qualified.

After work, he returned home so he could wash up before heading to the supermarket.  There were more moths than notes in his wallet, so meat was out of the question.  He grabbed some vegetables and noodles and pasta as well as milk.  There were a few odd tins at home, so he would have to make do until Friday.  He would receive his pay check then as would his aunt.

It was a rare night off, so after chowing down on a stir fry, he headed to the living room where the old television with his console awaited him.  He quickly loaded up the game, placed his headset over his ears and adjusted the microphone as he settled on the threadworn couch.  The controller was made for this game and had a small numerical keyboard upon its side.  Like an old mobile phone, it was numbered 1 to 0, the alphabet spread amongst them.  It could be used to hot link your favourite skills that otherwise needed more moves than Street Fighter.  It could also be used in the faction chat to talk to players that were not in a party with you and were far away.  It wasn't the fastest thing to use for that, but unless one wanted to fork out extra money on a qwerty keyboard attachment, it was better than nothing.

Immediately upon logging on, he was invited to a party.  Trinity Desertflower was leading it, but Dances in the Twilight, Two Hands and Lefty Righty had already joined it.  "Nice timing, boss," Twilight mentioned.  "A resource Rift just refreshed."

"Sweet, What location?" He asked as he moved his avatar down the sewer tunnel until he reached the ladder up to the surface.

"Parched Borderlands," came the reply. Adam thought about where his character; Black Zeus was. City of Wastes was a sprawling shanty type town with houses made of metal sheets, old cars and tents all hidden in sewers beneath the Old Capital, which lie in ruins above ground. It was several minutes by vehicle north of the Parched Borderlands, an expanse of rock, scrub grass and sand and pretty much nothing else. It was a good hunting ground for scorpion and scarab like monsters as well as serpents. Rifts opened there several times a week, so there were a few player killers hanging about there, but as there were few places to hide, the PKers would have to use brute force rather that ambush.

Adam 'summoned' his ride, a three wheeler bike and blasted down the broken highway to his teammates, only to find them engaged in a battle with players from Thirteen Levels of Purgatory. Requiem Knife was leading them. His Black Zeus joined in the fray, shooting at Knife with his pistol as he took out his black-steel pipe. Knife defended with a legendary katana.

"Nice toy," Adam complimented. "Another acquisition from the Shop?" Thirteen Levels of Purgatory players were known for their equipment, which could only be purchased from Our Final Hour's online shop using real money.

"Jealous much?" came Knife's retort. He swung using a sword skill, but Adam executed a dodge.

"Pretty weapons don't amount to much when the skills are still so weak," Adam taunted.

"Ugh, you Last Fortress scum are so full of yourselves!" Knife responded, wildly slashing at him now. "Just because you have the largest guild, doesn't mean you get rights to all the rifts!"

"Hmm, I thought it was first come, first serve," Adam pointed out, dodging and defending, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Bollocks! We made a team of five first and your team mates blocked us!" Knife said, angrily.

"Still here first," Adam's pipe struck away the katana and he whipped out his gun to shoot his rival in the stomach a few times with quickdraw. It severely depleted the other character's hit points and caused him to bleed. His team mates were also struggling as other members of his faction had showed up to give them a pounding. Soon all five members were down and cursing Last Surviving Fortress before their characters vanished for the respawn point.

"Well That was a nice work out," Trinity purred, sweetly as they tended their wounds with med-kits.

"Don't get cocky," Adam suggested. "We won because of numbers this time. Since this Rift is now ours, let's go get some resources." His team mates agreed, thanked their comrades who went off to play elsewhere, before heading into the Rift.

Definitions;

Podcasts; I call them this, as this term was used in other books, but it's basically a video with voice over created for platforms like YouTube.

Racing Battleground; This is specifically for my game.  Basically, instead of fighting it out in a mini-war, they are going to race each other around a track in their vehicles.  Winner takes the prize.

Guild/Faction; A large group of people getting together and naming themselves under one banner. Like a gang. Or a sect.

QuickDraw; This is meant to be an in game skill. Imagine cowboys dualing.

Bleed; This is an in game ailment. Basically means he is bleeding heavily.

H.P; Hit Points. This is a character stat. Usually in numbers, basically how much damage your character can take until he/she is dead. Think of Link's little hearts!

Respawn point; A place you go when you die in game, although in some games only your ghost will go there and you have to run back to your body.

Author's note; if anyone wants any other gaming or other terms translated, please do not hesitate to ask. The game won't be the focus, but I like games and I like inventing games, but coding doesn't interest me!