Mistrunner - Chapter 12 - More Complicated than Expected

When I first gained my skills, I thought they were underwhelming. Minor increases in fire rate and damage. However, when I reached the fourth tier, I realized that I’d barely scratched the surface of what was possible.

Jeremiah Braddock III

I awoke well before dawn. The cot wasn’t very comfortable, and my dreams had been wholly terrifying. Not a great combination for a good night’s rest. So, not wanting to disturb my uncle, whose snores were loud enough that I wondered if their presence had been a factor in my inability to sleep, I decided to take a few minutes to examine and adjust my interface.

The first thing I did was to move the various readouts around. The time went into the top right corner, and right beside that was the compass readout. After a little fiddling, I was able to open a couple of other displays as well. The most important was a tiny set of gun icons meant to represent the contents of my Arsenal Implant; the guns themselves weren’t that important, but the numbers beside them, which were meant to indicate my stores of ammunition, were. With that, I would never unknowingly run out of ammunition.

Next, I managed to open a display to indicate my health. It wasn’t represented by a number, like in some of the video games I’d played. Rather, it was a green silhouette of my body, divided into various sections. From the instructional manual, I knew that so long as the sections remained green, I was okay. If they turned yellow, I’d been damaged. Red, and I’d better find some sort of medical attention. To my surprise, everything was green except for a yellow section on my right side. But even that had begun to turn colors.

Finally, I found a way to open a square display in the top left corner. Meant to be a mini-map, it didn’t show much – just the boundaries of the room – but I’d read that, as my [Cybernetic Interface] skill increased in potency, the map would expand. I had no idea how big the map could get, but it seemed silly not to use the tools at my disposal. After all, the KOI’s versatility was what set it apart; most optical interfaces weren’t equipped with so many features or the ability to adapt to larger amounts of Mist.

Having taken care of my interface for now, I turned my attention to my skills. Since my Awakening, it’d felt as if I hadn’t had a chance to turn around, much less truly study the transformation I’d undergone. And it was a true transformation, too – as impactful as if I’d suddenly replaced my entire body with top-end cybernetics. Now, though, with a couple of hours before dawn, I couldn’t stop myself from exploring the breadth of those changes.

So, I opened my skills menu and drilled down into the sub-menu before focusing on my [Firearms] skill. When I did, a branching set of boxes opened up.

I read and re-read the contents of the skill tree, trying to make sense of it. Then, when I couldn’t figure everything out, I re-opened my status to see if it might help.

Name: Mirabelle Lisa Braddock

Class: N/A (Requirements Not Met)

Level: 1 (3%)

Constitution: 4/17

Mind: 5/17

Mist: 3/17

Skills: 7/7

· Cybernetic Interface (Tier 0) – 8%

o Bonuses Applied: None

o Slots Unlocked: 2

· Firearms (Tier 0) – 9%

o Bonuses Applied: None

· Close-Quarters Combat (Tier 0) – 0%

o Bonuses Applied: None

· Stealth Operations (Tier 0) – 0%

o Abilities:

§ Camouflage (F)

· Combat Utility (Tier 0) – 2%

o Abilities:

§ Triage (F)

§ Basic Explosives Handling (F)

§ Combat Focus (F)

§ Pain Tolerance (F)

§ Resistance (F)

§ Foraging (F)

§ Improvisation (F)

§ Regeneration (F)

· Mistwalking (Tier 0) – 1%

o Bonuses Applied:

§ 5% Misthack Speed

§ 5% Mistwalk Speed

o Abilities:

§ Mistwalk (F)

§ Misthack (F)

§ Mistwall (F)

· Spycraft (Tier 0) – 1%

o Abilities

§ Disguise

§ Deception

I didn’t quite understand, though. I was Tier 1 in all my sub-skills; therefore, I should have at least seen some of the bonuses specified in the various branches of the [Firearms] tree, right? As if my interface heard my question, a message flashed before my eyes:

Bonuses applied when reaching 100% progress in current tier.

Well, that answered that, I suppose. I had a long way to go, apparently. But that wasn’t a bad thing, really. If it was easy, then everyone would be so far ahead of me that there would be little chance of catching up. In any case, I started going down the list of my skills. First up was [Cybernetic Interface], which didn’t have a skill tree. Instead, it simply had a description:

Cybernetic Interface – Allows the user to interface with various Mist-powered constructs. Current Progress: Tier 1 (8%).

Well, that was easy enough to understand, so I moved on to [Close-Quarters Combat], which resulted in a skill tree similar to the one that came from [Firearms]:

I could tell that there were quite a few benefits to training that particular skill, and I was impressed with my uncle’s foresight in making me learn it. I didn’t particularly want to start pummeling my opponents with my hands and feet, but I also knew it would probably be necessary. Still, I didn’t relish the idea of practicing it. In any case, I moved on to the next skill, [Combat Utility], and instead of seeing a skill tree, I was rewarded with a list of abilities:

· Triage (F): Increases the effectiveness of rudimentary medical treatment (5%).

· Basic Explosives Handling (F): Increases the stability and yield of explosives (10%).

· Combat Focus (F): When in battle, increases clarity and speed of thoughts and perception (2%).

· Paint Tolerance (F): Increases the ability to withstand pain (5%)

· Resistance (F): Increases resistances to disease, poison, and detrimental medical conditions (5%).

· Foraging (F): Basic recognition of useful items (both synthetic and natural).

· Improvisation (F): Ability to improvise basic weaponry and amenities.

· Regeneration (F): Increases rate of natural healing (15%).

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” I whispered to myself, though I regretted it when I heard my uncle stir. Resolving to keep quiet a little longer, I moved on to the next skill, [Mistwalking], which I had to admit was the one that made me the most curious.

The skill tree gave me some ideas about the general purpose of the skill – at least enough that I could make some connections. I was aware that there were people in the world who specialized in hacking the various systems that ran the world. However, I’d always thought that it was the result of years of experience and study; now, I knew that wasn’t completely true. It was a skill. What’s more, it was one I now possessed. Almost as if to reaffirm my understanding, I investigated the skill’s abilities:

· Mistwalk (F) – Thoroughly infiltrate systems via a wired connection. Expansive Access.

· Misthack (F) – Quickly (and temporarily) infiltrate systems via Mist connection. Limited Access.

· Mistwall (F) – A barrier between your system and any outside influence.

The explanations were a lot less descriptive than I might have hoped, but there was enough that I could piece together where each of the abilities fit. Mistwalk was for stationary systems, like those that governed a megabuilding’s functions or the security system at one of the warehouses in Algiers. Meanwhile, Misthack seemed like the quick and dirty version of the ability, usable by riding the Mist in the air. Finally, Mistwall seemed like a personal firewall, shielding me from other Mistwalkers.

Or perhaps I was completely wrong. I had no real way of knowing until I actually tried to use the abilities. In any case, I had two more skills, both with associated abilities. First, I looked at [Spycraft], which gave me two abilities:

· Disguise (F) – Adopt a new persona by concealing your Tier and details of your appearance.

· Deception (F) – Subtly skew the facts in your favor via facial cues and the manipulation of Mist.

They were both pretty straightforward. One would allow me to conceal my identity, and the other would let me lie more effectively. However, the last seemed to smack of mind control, which didn’t seem possible. What did I know, though? Mist was comprised of uncountable microscopic machines; there was no telling what they could do. Then and there, I decided to discard any notions of what was and wasn’t possible. I had lived a sheltered life, and I clearly didn’t know how the world worked. From what I could tell, Mist was functionally indistinguishable from the magic I had seen in video games and entertainment programs, so there probably wasn’t much of a limit to what it could do.

Lastly, I inspected my final skill, [Stealth Operations]. It granted the Camouflage ability.

· Camouflage (F) – Use your environment for concealment.

Well, that was entirely unhelpful. Further, it seemed like the last two skills were related. I was about to dig into one of my manuals – I still hadn’t really studied much about my scattergun’s functionality – when I realized that my uncle was staring at me. More, light was streaming through one of the windows. I had been looking at my skills for hours.

“Find anything useful?” Jeremiah asked, guessing what I’d been doing.

“I was checking my skills and abilities,” I said. “It’s…a lot.”

“It certainly is,” was his response as he sat up. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so I could see the scars crisscrossing his chest. There were so many – from slashes to what looked like the puckered scars of gunshots – evidence of a life spent in the line of fire. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he looked up at me, and asked, “Any questions?”

“So many,” I said. “What are the differences between the different [Mistwalker]abilities? I think I have an idea, but I’m not sure.” I told him my suspicions. “Is that how it is?”

“More or less,” Jeremiah stated. “But if you want anything more than the broad strokes, you’re going to have to go to someone else. I don’t have that skill.”

“What skills do you have?” I asked.

“The right ones.”

“Oh, come on – I don’t –”

“Don’t tell anyone what your skills are,” he said. “It doesn’t matter if they’re your friends. It doesn’t matter if you trust them implicitly. With who you are and what you’re going to be, there are going to be people who will do just about anything to learn your secrets. Don’t give them an opening. Doing so will put your friends and family in danger.”

“Oh…okay,” I said, surprised by the vehemence in his tone. Clearly, he’d had to learn that lesson the hard way; I resolved not to put myself in that kind of situation. “I just…I just didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Jeremiah said. “But you need to understand that this world, it’s a dangerous place filled with selfish people. Even the ones who seem like they’re on your side can flip on you in an instant if they think it’ll help them get even the tiniest bit ahead. There are only two people in this world you can trust. Yourself. And me.” He sighed. “And trusting me should be stretching it.”

“That…that sounds pretty horrible,” I said. After having grown up in Nova City, I was no stranger to its pervasive attitude of self-interest. In that city, everyone was out for themselves. Perhaps they could trust family, but even then, I’d heard of plenty of sons and daughters, brothers and sisters who’d turned on their kin.

“Yeah. It does,” Jeremiah said, standing and stretching. “A lot of people think it got worse after the Initialization, but I don’t think that’s true. When that Mist cloud hit us, I think it just exposed humanity for what it was. No more pretense. Just raw self-interest. Without consequences, people just did whatever they wanted to do. And nobody could stop them. Few even tried. Before, we were playing at civilization. Now, all that pretense has been stripped away.”

I didn’t respond because I really didn’t have anything to contribute. Jeremiah had seen so much more of the world, so if he said that was how things were, then who was I to argue? Still, I wanted to believe that there were good people out there. Like Heather, who just wanted to be my friend, regardless of how little interest I showed in the prospect. Or Nora, who was my uncle’s loyal right-hand woman. Or a hundred others with whom I had interacted over the course of my short life. Maybe my uncle just couldn’t see it because he didn’t want to. Or because he couldn’t let himself.

“Get up and get dressed,” he said. “We’ve got a long way to go today, and it’s probably not going to be as uneventful as yesterday.”

Uneventful? I’d had to battle a dinosaur-sized alligator. That didn’t seem uneventful to me. I didn’t get the chance to say as much, because he was out of the room a second later. He hadn’t even bothered to put on a shirt.

With a sigh, I pushed myself out of bed and started my morning routine. It was a mistake. My entire body felt like it had been run over by a hover car, and the wound in my side was on fire. Whatever the effect of Regeneration, it clearly wasn’t enough to counteract the punishment I’d been through the day before. I shuddered to think of what kind of shape I’d have been in without it.

Groaning, I shuffled to the bathroom where I took care of my business before washing my face. I tried to do something – anything – with my hair, but ended up settling for just tying it back again. I was going to be battling across the monster-infested wilderness, not going to a party, after all. Still, I wished I had the time – or honestly, the proper expertise – to make it look decent. Maybe there was a skill for that. Oh well. Couldn’t have everything, I supposed.

After that, I left the bathroom and returned to my temporary bedroom, where I got dressed in a pair of non-descript cargo pants, chunky boots, and a tank top. I’d learned my lesson on that first day, and I wasn’t going to wear anything I really liked. Then, once I was ready, I shouldered my duffel, checked to make sure my Arsenal Implant was functioning properly, and headed to the kitchen, where I heard a bevy of voices.

When I arrived, my uncle was saying, “Standard convoy. I will be in the lead truck. Four transport trucks. And one heavy in the back. I don’t see what the problem is.”

Viola groaned, massaging her forehead. “The problem is that we don’t have the manpower to protect four trucks,” she said. “Three days ago, we sent a convoy north to Memphis. They’re not supposed to be back for a week.”

“And that’s if nothin’ happened to ‘em,” interjected Douglas. “Haven’t heard from ‘em since day before yesterday.”

“That’s nothing,” Viola said. “Just interference in the Dead Zone.”

“Dead Zone?” I asked. “What’s that?”

“Nothing you need to know about yet,” my uncle said.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s common knowledge,” Douglas said. “The girl deserves to know what’s waitin’ out there.”

“Fine,” Jeremiah sighed. “It’s feeling less and less like I’m the one in charge around here.”

“Sure, boss.”

“Go ahead,” he said. “Tell her.”

Douglas beamed at me. “The Dead Zone is a strip of land, probably a hundred miles wide and five times as long that runs from what used to be central Mississippi almost all the way to Montgomery. Or what’s left of it.”

“I don’t know what any of those places are,” I admitted. “But why’s it called the Dead Zone.”

“Mist is wild there. Nothing works,” Viola stated. “We can send trucks through, but they’re slow because we have to use solar power. The real problem is the wildlife, though. Everything’s bigger and badder there.”

“Bigger than that alligator?” I asked.

Douglas laughed. “That was a baby even for these parts!” he guffawed. “Up there, you got black bears the size of –”

“Enough,” Jeremiah said. “She understands what it is, now. No sense in scaring her.”

“But –”

Jeremiah slammed his hand down on the counter, growling, “Enough!”

“Fine, fine,” Douglas said, raising his hands in surrender.

“This is all well and good, but it doesn’t solve the problem,” Viola said, probably as much to defuse the situation as to get everything back on track. “We don’t have the manpower, boss.”

“Fine,” Jeremiah said, running his hand across his bald head. “I’ll be all the manpower you need in the lead truck. Mirabelle will ride in the back with whoever else you can spare.”

“She ready for that?” asked Douglas.

“No,” was my uncle’s answer. “But we need to get these supplies to Mobile. Without them, people are going to start dying off. You know that. No – sometimes, we have to do what’s necessary, regardless of whether or not it’s the smart move.”

“You’re the boss,” Douglas said.

“I’ll get everyone moving,” Viola added. “You two ought to get something to eat and stock up on provisions before you go. It’s a hard trip.”

As she spoke, Viola grabbed something long and yellow. She tossed it to me, and I caught it. After I did, I asked, “What is this?”

It was obviously organic, but I’d never encountered anything like it. Douglas asked, “You ain’t never seen a banana before?”

“She’s lived her whole life in Nova City,” Jeremiah stated. “The closest she’s come to fruit is Tasty Juice.”

“Ugh. That stuff is neither tasty nor juice,” Douglas said. “It’s like Kool-Aid, but with a gallon of high-fructose corn syrup in it. You remember Kool-Aid, right? God. What I wouldn’t give for –”

“Do you eat it?” I asked, skeptically eyeing the rubbery thing in my hand.

“Peel it first,” Jeremiah answered.

“Oh, c’mon!” Douglas said. “I was hoping she’d just bite into it! You’re absolutely no fun at all.”

Jeremiah ignored him, but I shot a scathing glance his way. That shut the man up. My uncle said, “Hand it here. I’ll show you.”

I did, and he bent the stem and slowly peeled the yellow outer coating away to reveal something white. Then, he handed it back to me. I looked at it with a bit of suspicion, but my uncle wasn’t exactly known as a practical joker. So, I took a bite. The moment I did, I was overcome with how rich the taste was.

I was no stranger to candy, so I’d had plenty of sweeter treats. But this? It was just different. And undeniably better. “Oh, my God…it’s so…mmm,” I mumbled, my mouth full. That drew a bout of laughter from everyone in the room. I swallowed, but before I took another bite, I asked, “How come we don’t have these in Nova?!”

“They do,” Jeremiah said. “Just not in the Garden. Or Algiers. They’re rare anywhere outside of King’s Row, actually. We only have them here because there’s a grove near one of my forts. It’s a serious pain in the ass to harvest because the grove is infested with this tribe of semi-sentient monkeys that throw balls of –”

“She doesn’t need to know the details, boss,” Viola said.

“Oh, right. Eat up. When you’re finished, meet me outside,” he said to me.

I barely heard him, instead focusing on the delectable treat. In fact, I ate three more bananas – and grabbed another three for the road – before I followed my uncle outside. In the light of day, the place looked a little less drab, but the bunker-like buildings still looked like unadorned slabs of concrete. However, there was a new addition in the form of five vehicles lined up near the gate.

They were all boxy, with minimal windows and huge, knobby tires, but they had designs I recognized. The two vehicles in the front and back were clearly modified armored personal carriers, with thick slabs of pitted and dented metal lining every surface. That wasn’t that uncommon a sight; I’d seen their like plenty of times in Nova City, though those were the hover car variants. These had huge wheels that were almost as tall as me. The three trucks in the middle of the line were just as boxy, but they were made to carry goods as opposed to people.  None of the vehicles were new, and they were coated in layers of rust and grime.

I crossed to where my uncle was talking to a small squad of seven men and women. All were armed with assault rifles, and all but one wore molded metal armor. I saw a few cybernetic limbs as well. “Mirabelle,” said Jeremiah. “You’re in the back with these seven. I’m up front. Let’s move.”

“This little girl?” asked one of the women, looking me up and down. “Really? She’s not even armed.”

I glanced at Jeremiah, and he gave me a slight nod. I took that as permission. In an instant, I had Ferdinand II in my hand and pressing against her chin. It was a bit awkward, because she was probably a head taller than me, but I made it work. Suddenly, I wished I had a hammer to cock back for dramatic effect, like in the movies that played on Nova City’s entertainment feeds. That would have definitely been badass.

A moment later, the rest of the squad had shouldered their weapons, and they were pointing them at me. That seemed decidedly less badass, but I wasn’t about to back down. Instead, I chose bravado.

“Think you can put me down before I make a canoe out of her head?” I growled. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating as I wanted it to be, but that was probably because of my high-pitched voice. It got the point across, though. “If so, give it a try.”

A tense moment followed, and I was convinced that I’d just made a huge mistake. I was terrified, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I remained stock still, with the barrel of my hand-cannon pressed firmly against the woman’s chin.

Then, suddenly, she let out a chuckle. “Make a canoe out of my head,” she muttered. “Seriously? That’s some terrible trash talk.”

“W-what?” I asked.

“Quit playing,” Jeremiah said. “We need to get on the road.”

I dismissed my pistol into my Arsenal Implant and backed a step away. The woman looked at me for a moment, then said, “You’re pretty quick, little girl. I’m Britt, and this is my squad.” She rattled off some other names, but I didn’t remember them. “S’pose we’re going to be working together this trip. Good to know you’re not completely useless.”

“My name is Mira, not ‘little girl’,” I said. “And thanks. I guess.”

“Sure thing,” she said, throwing a crooked grin in my direction. Then, to her squad, she said, “Alright ladies – and gentlemen, I guess – mount up. Stay frosty, and keep your heads on a swivel. You know what’s out there.”

A moment later, everyone was moving toward the armored personnel carrier in the back. As I followed, I saw my uncle move toward the front, and within a few minutes, we were off.