Chapter 136: Chapter 131

I awoke to the sound of gravel crunching, and the harsh bark of the hobbs’ language. The deep growl of an orc cut through in English. “Enough! Get him secured!”

Rough hands grabbed at me, lifting me to my feet. Another jolt of electricity coursed through my back, and I shouted in pain. A hobb wielding a cattle prod jammed it into my spine again and I grit my teeth against the agony. My muscles clenching on my bones hurt worse than the damn cattle prod.

Someone tugged on my cuffs, and I fell into step behind them. The night around me was still, the only noise coming from my captors, a Dearth mercenary squad spread out in the sand. We approached a convoy on the road, and I got a good sense of just how many there were.

Lee’s truck was nowhere in sight, thankfully. He had dumped me on the side of the road, unconscious and restrained, and left. I really hoped they paid him too, we needed those morties.

I was dragged unceremoniously to a vehicle, in the middle of a convoy. There were twelve of the armored personnel carriers, each with a flak repeater focused on me. Six hovercraft buzzed high in the sky above us, illuminating the area with heavy flood lights. There were over a hundred mercenaries present to capture me, and I smiled in spite of myself. I blinked against the harsh lights and entered the larger vehicle they lead me to.

“Where are his gloves?” a harsh, but familiar voice grunted nearby.

“Valued Garthrust, is that you?” I asked, customer service voice firmly in place. “It’s very sweet of you to come pick me up yourself, I didn’t even know we had an appointment.” I was shoved roughly into a form-fitting seat, where deployed straps wrapped around my torso, shoulders, and legs.

A snarl emanated from the front of the vehicle, and a solid armor-plated door slid open. Garthrust’s face appeared, his lower jaw replaced entirely by heavy metal plating. “Yes,” he growled, metal tinging his voice. “An appointment.”

I flexed against the restraints, subtly. They had more give than it felt like they should have, but they were firm, and I would be hard pressed to get out of the chair quickly. It had clearly been designed to restrain someone with artificially enhanced strength.

“You didn’t have to go to all this fuss,” I said, nodding my chin to the still open door, and the roar of military activity outside. “For you, I’d have come when called.” I smiled deeply at him, making sure the smile didn’t reach my eyes.

“Where is your MortBlock?” Garthrust growled, glaring at me over his blocky, metal jaw.

“Oh, have you checked your butthole?” I asked in a helpful tone, leaning forward in my seat with genuine interest.

Garthrust’s green darkened and his forehead screwed up in rage. “Shoot him!” the orc screamed.

My guard stepped in the vehicle to obey. The slag round he fired at me sunk directly in between my ribs and splashed against the inside of my shoulder plate. It seared and burned as I grit my teeth and tried to contain my reaction.

The scream I tried to avoid ripped out of me anyway, and Garthrust’s metal jaw creaked into a smile. “Again!” he roared.

The next round snapped a rib and poured out of the wound, searing my stomach and burning away part of my shirt.

My cartoon appeared in the seat opposite me, struggling against the restraints. “Damage detected user!” it said, as my suit’s tendrils deployed.

“Grab it!” Garthrust yelled. He’d clearly been watching footage of my battles. “Grab one of the tentacles!”

The guard hesitated but reached forward. Beneath his black helmet, I could tell it was another human by the shape of him. He reached a hand forward and I shook my head.

“I wouldn’t threaten it, if I were you,” I coughed, around the blood seeping up my throat with every breath. The suit’s painkiller kicked in and I rode it out. I was getting used to the sensation of a punctured lung, and just waited for the tendrils I could already feel getting to work inside.

A chunk of rib ground up in the turbine and ejected in a thin stream of jelly onto the guard, who flinched away. He sneered behind his balaclava and wiped at the goo on his breastplate. Tendrils deployed to grab the new rib portion from the central turbine, transporting the small piece of bone to where it was needed. More tiny tendrils waved around, fixing the burns on my stomach.

“Grab it!” roared Garthrust.

The guard lunged forward and gripped one of the tendrils. The suit reacted immediately, wrapping around him and severing his hand at the wrist with a quick sawing sound.

The chunk of meat wrapped in a tactical glove slapped when it hit the floor, and I shook my head.

“Warned you,” I said.

A heavy gun deployed from the ceiling in front of me and a targeting laser activated, shining on the turbine in my chest.

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“I wouldn’t do that either, Valued Garthrust,” I said, patronizingly.

The gun fired a single round, which ricocheted from the starfish suit and splashed through the hapless, maimed guard. Garthrust cursed and closed his armored hatch as the round bounced and blasted around the room a few more times before it stopped, lodged in the armored glass between our compartments

The vehicle roared into movement, and I heard the rumble of several other members of the convoy falling in.

The longer truck I was in had a smooth ride, and once my repairs were complete, I watched my cartoon starfish dancing against the restraints in the other seat. Garthrust’s door slid open again, and his glaring eyes were visible in the slit. “You will give me that MortBlock, human,” he spat.

I chuckled and started singing, “have you checked your butthole, ski-bap, ba-dop, butthole.” Garthrust roared and slammed the hatch, leaving me alone for the rest of the journey into what Prescott had become.

The armored window in the door was tinted, but I could see plenty through it on our short trip. We entered Prescott at midnight on the seventh day of BuyMort, through a large, weaponized gate that looked like it was made of black plastic blocks. Most of the Dearth structures did, and there were a lot of them.

Prescott itself was gone. The buildings, roads, parks, bridges, and people all paved over in shining black plastic. As I stared at it and pondered the nature of the building materials, a BuyMort ad popped up to grab my attention.

Are you trying to get buildings built in a hurry? Well look no further than The Dearth Conglomerate pre-built building builds, for building!

The advertisement featured a very beautiful human woman, in makeup and a skimpy dress, who stared and read off-screen cue cards in a halting monotone. It also highlighted the building brick features, while showing fast-paced construction of a building, layers of thick glass and black brick slapping into place to create the structure.

I swiped it away with my eyes.

It was a type of plastic, actually. Hardened and reinforced with additives made from raw Sleem, the end result was equivalent to reinforced concrete. Dearth was our best customer, we’d helped them re-build Prescott. Well, they shipped most of this crap in, we just helped them restock their shelves.

To our south-east, the mountain I had cleansed of yarsps earlier in the day was visible, as was a massive warehouse of different construction. It was crafted of tall, solid white walls with the BuyMort emblem emblazoned on each side. Dearth had built a small fortress around the structure, their many buildings tiny by comparison.

A great red line was painted in the dirt all around the structure, denoting a safe distance, and securing it with a towering fence. Beyond that was the primary bulk of Dearth’s military forces. The fenced off base housed several barracks and hangars, most of which stood empty. Defensive towers were built of the black plastic blocks, not just facing out toward the greater city, but in toward the BuyMort structure as well.

Streams of pods floated in and out of the giant warehouse through portals, and I could just imagine Tower in there, happily feeding his yarspies and waiting for me to come back and talk to him. First, I would have to deal with the enemy that had transformed a major Arizona city into a spaceport inside of a week.

The matte-black pre-built buildings were everywhere, serving the many landing fields and oversized hangars that had been installed. Everywhere I saw Dearth mercenaries in their matching armor sets, patrolling or securing areas of import. They stood at the entry to almost every structure and owned the roads and airways in their APCS, tanks, and hovercraft.

A singular structure stood out, taking up most of the physical space in Prescott by itself. The space elevator rose massive into the sky, blotting out the city behind it entirely. Where I had thought it a cable before, I saw now that it was made of a series of massive rings, linked by heavy reinforcing structures. On the inside, the movement of great cargo platforms was visible as they ascended and descended the elevator.

Locked into the base sat the massive donut shaped ship I had seen descend it. Vehicles in lines approached it from every direction, vying to ship their cargo loads into orbit. The area around the space elevator was clear of all structures, but had several roads and airspace routes in. The elevator was a bustling platform for trade, plopped right in the middle of my desert.

I had never wanted anything more, and Valued Garthrust was driving me right up to it.

We passed through the city easily, only stopping briefly at Dearth checkpoints. I heard the harsh bark of the hobbs language, and the occasional word in Orkreshi.

If I made it through this, I was going to have to do something about learning some new languages.

Since the turret hadn’t worked against my suit, the gun barrel no longer pointed at my chest, and no other guard had entered to deal with me. I checked on the guard on the floor, but they had bled out shortly after the turret round blasted through their chest. The armor plating was shredded.

A building stood out against the skyline as we drove, shining in the moonlight. The skyscraper was the tallest thing in the area, with the exception of the space elevator it sat nestled in the shadow of. This building had been crafted from the same black brick material, but it was wrapped in chrome plating and mirrored windows. I liked it the moment I saw it.

We arrived in a basement garage of the giant building and were immediately greeted by another unit of mercenaries. This one was led by an unusual Nah’gh woman, wearing a red silk power suit that perfectly matched her scales. She had vibrant yellow eyes and tiny horns jutted from her forehead. Small spikes rose from her scales, down the backs of her arms and spine, all the way to a wicked spike-tipped tail she kept draped around her elbow.

She waited amid a cluster of heavily armed mercenaries, lightly swinging her wicked tail tip around her forearm as she stared at the incoming truck. The vehicle slid to a stop with my window directly facing her.

“Venerable Garthrust,” the Nah’gh woman sneered. “I thought I warned you about using my men without my direct written permission.”

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