Volper LitRPG Series

With the help of my map, I managed to reach the store in just three minutes. Then I got stuck in the queue for almost half an hour. I had some time to look around while waiting to get into the store. Admittedly, I wouldn't have minded overhearing some interesting conversations, but there were only noobs around me. Unfortunately, I didn't pick up on anything useful from their chatter. The outpost consisted of only five buildings: a fifty-story replication center, an equally large residential complex, a thirty-story scientific center, a five-story administrative building, and a store.

All the buildings were arranged into a circle around a specific area, and along the perimeter, the outpost was surrounded by a 25 feet high modular fence, evidently intended for further expansion. Behind the fence was where the most interesting things were: huge buildings that were usually at least halfway destroyed, along with multi-level roads. The most amazing thing was that, directly above us, there was no sky, not even a dome. A concrete ceiling stretched out over the whole city, as far as the eye could see. At least it looked like concrete; it was similar enough to it. Only now did I understand what Lita had been saying about different levels.

It looked like there was at least one more city above our heads, and it was about the same size. Going by the fact that we're on the fifth level, there had to be four more under us.

On either side of the entrance to the store, there was a guard in some sort of mechanical armor, distantly resembling the armored suits of space troopers. However, in contrast to them, the guards had a face shield, the arms and legs had thicker external armor, and they had yellowish energy lines on the sides of their bodies.

They all had an automatic rifle in their hands, an energy rifle at that, judging by the round module that had a uniform blue glow coming off of it. It looked impressive, but in terms of practicality and subtlety – it was just horrible. Not only could they be seen almost from space, but the most vulnerable spots were also highlighted. After waiting for my turn, I finally went into the store. What caught my eye were eight coupled turrets under the ceiling, the fine-meshed gratings in front of the shelves and a huge number of CCTV cameras.

It was a great place for paranoid people, especially when you consider that there were no more than a couple dozen buyers in the store at the same time. The shopping area itself was roughly divided into sections of different types of goods. There were weapons; there was ammunition and armor, and so on and so forth. Coming to the armaments section, an electromagnetic rifle immediately caught my eye. It had pulse-launching projectiles along with energy-enriched ones, with the muzzle itself being how you switch between the two modes.

If you chose a matching plasma core for the weapon, you would be able to burn through even the composite armor of a combat robot. Looking at the price, I was shocked: seventeen million credits. Doubtlessly, I would have had to work hard for at least six months to afford it, although I didn't know the prices of the local loot yet, so I thought that it might take even longer.

"Good afternoon!" I said to the shop assistant. "What do you have for a beginner?"

"What kind of weapons are you interested in?"

"Um ... which kind do you have?"

"Well, there's a general class – individual combat weapons and hand weapons. The individual combat ones can be melee, energy, laser, and pulse. Melee weapons include such classes of weapons as a blade, meant for chopping and stabbing, crushing ones, meant..."

"Ok, not so quickly. Let me think. Shall we turn the question around? I need an inexpensive gun with a holster I can place inside my pants, a knife with a 15-cm blade in a hard case, and something compact, with an automatic fire mode."

The salesman looked me over, stroked his chin a bit and apparently made a decision.

"As far as I understand it, you're on a budget and you've only got the starter credits, am I right?" I just nodded. He turned away and looked for something in the shop windows, and then shouted, "Levy, bring me the number 3 starter kit!"

"What kind of starter kit is that?"

"Before the replication center started operating, we came together and agreed to offer beginners starter kits containing the minimal necessities. Also, it's cheaper, so you'll be able to afford this kit. Usually, replicants like you just ask for either an assault rifle or a gun, or at least an ordinary rifle. On the other hand, you are quite knowledgeable, as far as I can see, and you're planning ahead for different situations. Players rarely ask these kinds of questions, so we have just a few starter kits. But please, have in mind that the quality is low; for the money you have, it's not possible to buy something of higher quality."

"Thank you just the same. How much do I owe you?"

"732," he said, noticing I was surprised by the figure. "Yes, don't worry; all the necessities are already inside: a small backpack with cartridges, two sets of army field ration and a 3-liter water pack."

His words helped me calm down. I didn't want to face the problem of not having any armor just because of one trivial reason - lack of money. After taking the bundle, I confirmed the payment in the pop-up window and money was withdrawn from my account. Then I headed for the fitting room, shown to me by the shop assistant. After closing the curtain, I immediately examined what I had bought. I'd received short black boots with fasteners and trousers made of a leather-like material with two side and two hip pockets. There were also a jacket with long sleeves of the same material as the pants, with eight outside pockets, located symmetrically on the right and left sides, two on the c.h.e.s.t and two on my abdomen. I also found a pair of fingerless gloves with reinforcement on the knuckles, a strange kind of pistol, without a bolt carrier, barrel assembly and with a small, movable part in the chamber area with a hidden trigger.

I couldn't find the pistol's safety, but having fiddled with the gun, I found out that the trigger was a single action one, without the need for pre-c.o.c.king. Next, I took out a small submachine gun, with a short barrel and skeletal stock, but to my dismay, the breech mechanism was placed far ahead of the trigger, and there was a loading case there too. The bullpup was lacking in any way to lower the recoil, even just a little. In general, it cannot be called a real weapon, it's just a sad excuse. On top of that, there were only two modes of fire: automatic and single. The possibility of switching out the type of ammunition didn't exist at all. You could literally bang your head against the wall, for all the good it would do you.

Still, what more could I have asked for at the very beginning of the game? I continued to rifle through the contents. There was a simple synthetic belt, a synthetic pistol holster worn on the t.h.i.g.h, which had two elastic bands with fasteners around the t.h.i.g.hs, and a hard loop for affixing it to the belt. Of course, it would have been better to have a polymeric, open-wear one, but I couldn't afford it at the time, and, unlike that one, polymeric holsters had to be chosen exclusively for the model of the pistol you were using, so that all the fixtures would fit accordingly.

There was also a small backpack with a volume of twenty or so liters, with a bunch of sewn-on straps. If memory serves, this system of fasteners was used before the invention of reliable magnetic grippers. Inside the backpack, I found five boxes of cartridges, two spare magazine cases for the submachine gun and one spare for the gun. At the bottom, there were two vacuum packs of dry soup, enough for one day. In a special pocket, at the back, there was a hydrator with a tube pulled out to one of the shoulder straps of the backpack.

The last thing in the bundle was a knife, about eleven inches long, with a straight, one-sided 6-inch-long blade and a slightly curved point. The handle was wrapped in some kind of cord so it wouldn't slip from the hand, and all this was placed in a hard case that had a belt loop at the top part and two elastic bands with adjustable fasteners in the middle and lower parts, which were intended, most likely, for additional adjustment on the t.h.i.g.h. Looking at these things, I realized that I was being an idiot again. I was in a game and not in real life – all I needed was to give a mental command. Therefore, I checked the info on all of the objects:

"Rackword" shoes

Armor for: Feet / ankles:

Kinetic: 2

Penetrating: 3

Thermal: 1

Condition: 100%

Weight: 1.2 kg

"Saomi" trousers

Additional slots: 4, pocket type

Armor for: h.i.p.s / knees / calves:

Kinetic: 1

Penetrating: 2

Thermal: 1

Condition: 100%

Weight: 0.7 kg

"Oyster" jacket

Additional slots: 8, pocket type.

Armor for: Torso / Forearms / Elbows / Upper arms / Shoulders:

Kinetic: 2

Penetrating: 2

Thermal: 2

Condition: 100%

Weight: 1.1 kg

"Clemor" gloves

Armor for: Palms / Wrists:

Kinetic: 1

Penetrating: 2

Condition: 100%

Weight: 0.12 kg

"CargoTM" backpack

Basic Slots: 2

Additional slots: Connector for hydrator (not available), external system Molle.

Volume: 18 liters

Carrying capacity: 20 kg

Condition: 100%

Weight: 0.4 kg

"SR-17" knife

Damage: 5-7

Overall length: 285 mm

Condition: 100%

Weight: 0.26 kg

"PMK 428" pistol

Ammunition: 4.2х8

Range: 20 meters

Effective rate of fire: 30

Shooting modes: single

Condition: 100%

Weight: 0.42 kg

"PMK 428" magazine case

Ammunition: 4.2х8

Amount of cartridges: 12

Condition: 100%

Weight: 0.11 kg

"4.2х8" Rifle cartridge

Kinetic Damage: 4-6

Penetration damage: 2-3

Condition: 100%

Cartridge Weight: 2.4 g

"The Hornet" submachine gun

Ammunition: 4.2х8

Range: 30 meters

Combat Rate of Fire (per minute): 400

Shooting modes: single, automatic

Condition: 100%

Weight: 2.4 kg

"The Hornet" submachine gun magazine case

Ammunition: 4.2х8

Amount of cartridges: 50

Condition: 100%

Weight: 0.23 kg

After examining the items' attributes, I was so angry that I just wanted to hang myself. Sighing heavily, I changed my clothes, put my backpack on, and holstered the pistol on my right t.h.i.g.h and the knife on my left leg – it was quite convenient to take it out with both my right and left hand. Well, I'd had some difficulty readjusting the lower fastener to the link for the belt at first, but in the end, the scabbard sat well and comfortably. After filling all the magazine cases with ammunition and putting spares for the submachine gun into my b.r.e.a.s.t pockets, I put an additional pistol in a special pocket on the gun holster. Then I hung the Hornet around my neck with the barrel pointed down and adjusted its strap so that when I tossed it up on my shoulder, the belt wouldn't press against the back of my neck.

I changed my clothes and decided to throw away the slippers that were left, so that they could be recycled, without a second thought. Jumping up and down a couple of times to make sure nothing was loose, I was already planning to leave but then realized that I wouldn't get far without certain other necessities. Quickly looking through what they had on offer, I bought a reel of thin but strong cord, half a kilo of bandages and a spray bottle of disinfectant. By the way, I was very surprised by the absence of any elixirs or stimulating potions, which could immediately heal any wounds. After a moment's thought, I bought a 1-liter gas cylinder with a nozzle for directional fire and electric ignition.

I had a bit of money left so I bought some snacks, bringing the indicators for hunger and thirst to zero. Looking at the statistics of my weight capacity, I was pleased: almost fourteen and a half kilograms out of fifty available. I was disappointed only by the account status; there were only 13 credits left. After checking everything one final time, I decided that it was the perfect time to set off. I jogged to the nearest of the three gates and, after passing through the door with a group of players, went outside for the first time.

The territory behind the perimeter welcomed me with the sounds of shooting coming from different directions and, judging by the sound, from different distances as well. It seemed no more than half a mile away. Looking around quickly and not noticing any danger nearby, I placed the cartridge into the Hornet in a hurry. I didn't want to place any into the pistol, afraid to carry around a loaded pistol that doesn't have a safety catch – hoping to prevent anything embarrassing happening to me. The players with whom I'd passed through the gateway fanned out along the streets in small groups, going in different directions.

I figured that the streets in front of the gate were full of players, so I decided to move along the wall, going to the right of the gate. After passing about halfway to the next gate, I noticed a narrow street, which went deep into the city, and I went down it. A creature jumped out from a heap of garbage and charged at me after my first turn. I was quick in this new body, my reflexes sharp once more. My brain identified the potential threat just in time and I immediately began to roll to the left and, clutching the trigger on the Hornet, I fired it at a blurred shadow that flew by just a few centimeters above me.

To my surprise, the creature didn't even pay attention to the dozen or so bullets I'd unloaded into its belly. Pushing myself off the floor with my left hand and taking up a more stable position on my right knee, I was surprised to see, through the sight of the gun, that the monster was slowly, almost lazily turning toward me. I panicked and looked for some sort of salvation, as the name and level appeared brightly over the mob:

Meat-eater, level 9

A level 9 creature in the newbie zone? How could they even think of putting level 9 mobs in a zone for level 1 players? At the same time, while these thoughts were going through my head, my body acted automatically. Aiming down the sight at the head of the meat-eater, I started to fire in several short bursts. It didn't like the bullets that I sent into its face.

In two big leaps, it was literally 6 feet away from me and, straining his hind legs, it was getting ready to jump, aiming at my head. Moving back to the corner, I prayed to all the gods who'd told me to raise my agility almost to the maximum. I turned my face toward the meat-eater, and I yelled as loudly as I could, like a fresh recruit during his first battle!

I went on shooting; I showered the creature with lead, holding the Hornet with one hand, while trying, with the other one, to get a spare magazine out of my b.r.e.a.s.t pocket. All the while his life bar was moving slowly down to zero. It was not the time to save on cartridges; I couldn't pause to adjust my aim, even if I had a way to do it. Either I killed the creature, or, by the time it jumped again, it would send me to respawn. Without money, perhaps without ammunition as well, I would probably be stuck permanently doing social quests to save up for new equipment.

After the first submachine gun burst, the meat-eater said goodbye to its front paw and, stumbling, it stretched out on the concrete. By that time, I'd already gotten a spare magazine case with my left hand and so I took advantage of this opportunity. I quickly replaced the magazine, stopping the hail of bullets just for a second, but a few seconds were enough for this monster to act. Even though its leg was broken, it still dashed to the right and ran towards the wall on its three remaining, healthy limbs. Jumping off the wall in my direction, it went after me, heedless of the bullets I continued to pour into it, while it was in flight.

My agility helped me again: aiming for my neck, the creature ended up biting down on my left shoulder instead. It didn't rip my head off, just knocked me down and wounded me. Tearing off a good chunk of meat, the mob flew to the side. Due to the momentum, we'd been thrown apart in different directions on the concrete floor. I got back on my feet with difficulty and looked around to see where the meat-eater was. The creature was moving about convulsively five meters away. The bar of its life was flashing, on the edge of being depleted.

As I approached the beast on trembling legs, I pointed the Hornet's muzzle at its head and pulled the trigger. In response, I heard a hollow click, indicating the absence of cartridges in the magazine case. I spit to the side, took out a pistol, and moved the bolt back with my teeth - how else was I supposed to do it when my left hand refused to cooperate? I somehow pulled out the cartridge, and emptied the entire magazine into the meat-eater's head. After I made sure that the monster was dead at last, I sat down with my back to its corpse, only to be overwhelmed by system messages. Irritated, I minimized them to the tray, dropping them into the lower right corner, and began to treat my wound.

With the help of a knife, I ripped off my sleeve and after lots of cursing under my breath because of the unbearable pain, I was able to see my wound. I was really feeling how realistic the game was: even the pain felt like I was still in the real world. With one hand, a lot more swear words and gnashing my teeth, I turned around and took out a spray bottle from my backpack, along with the bandages, and carefully dressed the wound. By the time I had finished giving myself first aid, my hits were frozen at a value of seven.

(Ill.u.s.tration: Meat-eater)

I inserted the last of the full magazine cases into my submachine gun and turned around, carefully examining the surrounding terrain, paying special attention to places suitable for new mobs to be hiding. After I had made sure that there was no immediate danger to me, I started to load a new magazine with bullets, looking around every few seconds, fearing for my life.

If you were to go by generally accepted game mechanics, each mob had its own zone, but these devs had already shown that you could expect anything from them. It was good that, out of habit, I'd thrown the first detached magazine into an empty pocket; I didn't have to search for it. Taking the magazine out of my pocket, I found seven cartridges were left. That was real hardcore - 105 bullets had been used for one creature. I'd completely forgotten about the empty magazine in the gun.

I'd used almost half of my ammunition, not much I could've done about that. I had to collect my loot and go back to the base, where it would be possible to dismantle the system and think about what to do next. I fiddled with the half-filled third magazine case for the Hornet. With a grimace, I threw it into the bottom pocket of the jacket. If I encountered another monster, I would need the remaining 21 bullets in my magazine case – that was practically nothing. I turned to the corpse of the meat-eater, placed my hand on it, and waited for the loot collection window to open up. Strangely, nothing happened, so I sent the request mentally:

"Loot"

"Collect loot"

"Get the loot"

...

...

Every attempt I made to collect my loot failed. The thought of having to drag that creature to the base myself made me shudder. It's not that it was beneath me, I'd done even worse things in my life. There were a lot of noobs in the game who'd simply be unable to do what needed to be done. Still, carving it up right there was out of the question - God forbid that another creature came across us while I was working as a butcher. I learned that the corpse was heavy when I tried to drag it – around 140 or 150 pounds.

I couldn't carry the corpse myself. Then I remembered that I had a rope, well, a cord. Folding the cord over twice and properly tying it around the corpse left ten feet of it hanging free. I made an impromptu harness at the other end, through which I put my right hand and head, placing the main load diagonally across my c.h.e.s.t. That way, my hands remained free and the corpse could easily be transported by dragging it. My little rucksack got in my way a little, though, but that was OK with me. I rolled up my sleeves and dragged my dead meat-eater for a few feet. I estimated that I would be able to get to the outpost if I took breaks. I felt severe pain from the wound on my left shoulder and the tension of the rope digging into me.

Slowly dragging the carcass of an unknown creature behind me, I returned to the base, this time carefully examining any potentially dangerous places. Well, at least the devs hadn't come up with the idea of introducing sweat and other physiological needs into the game, otherwise, I would've been in trouble – it was so damn hot. Fortunately, I didn't come across any other creatures as I walked back to the base, not counting a small group of players, around five people, who stared at me in astonishment as I entered through the gate of the outpost.

The guard who was on gate duty barely paid any attention to me; maybe he'd widened his eyes in surprise or something like that, but his helmet didn't let me see his face and emotions. The other players did stare at me as I dragged my catch to the research center, and cracked jokes or dished out barbed comments:

"Oh, look, you can be a grunt here."

"No, he's just fed up with the tasteless combat rations, so he's caught something for dinner."

"Bwa-ha-ha, this f.u.c.k.i.n.g noob doesn't even know he'll get no loot for this."

"Do you see that idiot lugging a corpse around? It's heavy, isn't it? I wonder if they'll make him take it back."

They kept on talking and laughing, ridiculing me, saying that I'm a dull noob, that I don't know shit, that I'm just wasting my time and so on and so forth. Out of all the players there, only one group of three people behaved differently. They came out of the research center building as I was entering it. I could see their levels –10 – and they were well equipped compared with the other players. That group glanced at me with a brooding look as I entered the research center, and then they began to talk about something. That was fine by me if they decided to carry whole corpses back as well, but if they were pros, then I needed to keep an eye on them. There was a small reception desk in the hallway of the building, behind which I saw two young ladies, who were apparently bored.

"Good afternoon!" I said. "I was told that the laboratories would pay me for the organs of some mutants. Can you tell me if they'll take a whole corpse as well?"

"Um ... just a minute," one of them said, shocked.

While the first girl tried to find something to say, the second one, judging by the distant look in her eyes, contacted someone via the neural network. In less than a minute, a disheveled man in yellow overalls popped out of the door on the left. Not paying any attention to me, he moved to the girls and just asked, "Where is it?" He received an answer in the form of two index fingers pointing at me. He turned around and immediately rushed to me. Well, it looked like he did, but then he completely ignored me again; he rushed to the remains of the meat-eater and, examining it from all sides, began to lament:

"Heartless beasts! They've spoiled such a specimen! What idiots decided to fill this poor mutant with lead bullets? – I was about to lose my patience."

"Excuse me," I said, but was immediately interrupted by the scientific psycho.

"And who are you?" He immediately looked at the girls behind the desk. "Ladies, take this stranger out of the room, he's interfering with my research."

That was the last straw; I stepped over to the scientist and punched him in the. I don't know what happened, maybe it was the emotional stress I'd been through. Losing my temper like that shouldn't happen to someone my age. Maybe it was the stress of the first fight or a strange hormonal flux, but I lost it completely. The scientist fell over; his hands spread out, and, apparently, knocked out. I heard someone start clapping in the distance. I turned around and saw a young guy in tight, yellow overalls, which fit him perfectly, in contrast to the scientist on the floor.

"I've told him to mind his language, otherwise he would get punched in his face, but he never listens to me. As he'd put it: 'These Neanderthals won't dare lift a hand against me. They are definitely not the sharpest tools in the shed and their minds can't realize the importance of science and my contribution to it,'" the guy mimicked the scientist's pretentious manner. – "Let me introduce myself, my name is Alfred, I'm the representative of this research center's biological department."

"Hmm ... I'm Volper, very nice to meet you, Alfred. I apologize for my behavior, but I couldn't tolerate the guy. This creature nearly devoured me, and your, umm ...colleague, here, kept talking about how this creature was ruined and so on."

"Don't pay him any heed, he'll stay there for a little bit, and then come round and become almost a sane person, well, at least until he goes back to his research..."

"I understand, but can we get down to business? Will you buy this corpse from me, or should I make myself some lunch out of it?"

"Hmm ... really, you need to do an analysis of the soft tissues to see if it's edible and if the results of the test are positive..."

"I'm waiting here," - I interrupted him again. Maybe I've encountered another psycho in here….

"Oh yes, forgive me. Well, noone has ever delivered a practically untouched meat-eater to us, and it's even a m.a.t.u.r.e species ... If we count all the organs and take into account their uniqueness, plus the age of the species, in total, we can give you six thousand credits. In addition, we'll provide you with a regeneration pod to heal your wound, as an added bonus. What do you think?"

"I think we have a deal." To be honest, I didn't know the price list for mutants, but that amount sounded quite impressive, and I would even be healed as a bonus.

"Then, please, follow Alika," he pointed to one of the girls, "and while you're recovering, I'll transfer the money to your account.

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