I do think Druid wouldve been fun too, imagine casting Moon Beam on some of the highly mutated monsters.
Best of Intentions (Resident Evil) (DnD Gamer SI)
- Thread starter Ideas-Guy
- Start date
Arimai
Curmudgeon
Druids can't fix radiation. Artificers eventually can along with being able to replicate a Druid's magic in time.
most of the druid spell list is amazing for zombies. shillelagh on a bat for early dps resistance could stop the bite from turning you create water detect disease good berry. so much utility.
Come Sweet Death
- Location
- USA
"I cannot believe this is working," Jill marveled as I fought to keep a smirk off of my face, adjusting my hard hat and my bright orange reflective vest as I finished tying off the caution tape to some of those orange and white barrel things. I was blocking off an entrance to the metro station, and it was working like a charm. People saw the caution tape and decided to move on to the next station.
"What's more likely -- that construction is actually being done or that two random people just decided to block off the metro?" I asked Jill, cocking an eyebrow. She looked like she wanted to argue the point, but she couldn't. "No one questions a man in a reflective vest carrying a ladder. No one will bat an eye," I promised. And, so far, I had been proven right. We had shut down a lane of traffic at the nearest stops to the central station. We couldn't completely block off all traffic though, simply because that would cause enough of an inconvenience that someone would complain enough to warrant a response.
But it worked just fine in any case.
Enough that we went to work. The yellow tape was just the start. While I broke out my tools and materials, Jill went about setting up the actual defenses. We stole some of the chain link fence sections and some orange and white barricades to set up a perimeter around the exit. The barricades went behind the fencing to help make sure that they didn't topple over in case the numbers got out of hand. We got some odd looks from the people passing by, but none commented. Such was the power of a reflective vest.
That left me free to beef up the defenses inside of the actual station stop. None were particularly big because we were so close to the central station, but they were still sizable -- the weird spinning bar things numbered a dozen across. Alone, those wouldn't stop any zombies, so I went about making some additions to them. As an Artificer, I was drowning in tool proficiencies and one of them was smithing tools.
And it was rather generous with what it considered a smithing tool. I thought I'd have to break out the forge and hammer to build the barricade, but all I needed was a blowtorch and a mask. I'm guessing it was because welding was a more modern aspect of smithing. Not really sure and I didn't worry too much about it on account of how convenient it was. My welding wasn't exactly godly, but it was good enough for a rush job. I added bars above the rotating things, making a makeshift wall.
Creating a singular 'doorway' I removed one of the spinny things and put up a chain link door. A stopgap for the moment. We could look for upgrades when the clock wasn't actively working against us.
And, from there, it was repeating the process for all the other stops. There were only six of them nearby, but it wasn't exactly fast work. Hours ticked by as I secured the exits and wrapped them up with yellow caution tape. They earned a bunch of confused glances, but no one actually said anything about it. Both Jill and I finished our work near midnight, and secured the materials to continue building them.
It was then that a car pulled up on the side of the road and a brick shit house of a man stepped out of it. He was tall, though about an inch shorter than me, at 6'1. His dark hair was cut short with a five o'clock shadow clinging to a strong jawline. He was handsome. If I had to summarize him in a single word…then 'Jock' fit him best. He looked like the kind of guy that was the quarterback of the football team and fucked the prom queen in the back of an unnecessarily expensive car. Despite that, he walked up and greeted me with a friendly smile, "Chris Redfield."
"Rudeus Rain, but everyone calls me Rude," I shook his hand after taking off a thick glove. He had a firm grip without squeezing down like a macho asshole. "Thanks for coming. If I were you, then I probably would have kept flying out."
To that, Chris' smile grew. "If that were true, then none of us would be here. Except for Jill," he said, inclining his head to me. It was then that Jill walked up the steps and his eyebrows shot up, "Planning a career change, Jill?"
Jill seemed immensely relieved to see him, taking off the hard hat. "Just might after this. Glad you made it."
"Wasn't easy. There's a massive quarantine around the city that's diverting traffic -- they're not letting anyone into the city, for better or worse. But, it's nothing outright. Military personnel disguised as beat cops, roads closing because of sinkholes, and so on. Back roads are still open for those that know how to find them." Chris explained and I nodded.
"Is there no way to call them in?" Jill questioned, and to that, I answered.
"The government's already decided that it wants to secure its image over preserving life. I'm sure part of that is they have no idea what they're dealing with, but… well, Umbrella is a bioweapon arms dealer. If they aren't taking it seriously just from that, then I wouldn't trust them to find their own ass with both hands and a map." It wasn't what anyone wanted to hear, but it was the unfiltered truth. The Cold War ended half a decade ago, but most of the shot callers during that era were still in the seats of Congress.
Controlling perception and the Red Scare decision making was still a guiding principle.
"He's not wrong. As much as I would like an army of marines to scoop me up bridal style to rescue us from this mess, we shouldn't count on them," Chris agreed. "Looks like you've already started securing the perimeter and supplies. I talked to Kendo about munitions -- he's got his doubts, but he's willing to hear us out. Jill, you should reach out to Raymond. He's always been sweet on you, and he hates Irons more than we do."
"I'll start calling in bomb threats and kidnapping babies from the hospital," I informed, making Chris do a double take in my direction.
Jill rolled her eyes at my antics, "It's to prevent kids from going to school and staying with their families. As for the babies…" she looked at me and I shrugged.
"Babies are little noise and shit factories, but I don't hate them enough to let them get eaten by undead," I told them both bluntly, earning a wince from the both of them. "As soon as we get this taken care of, we need to start raiding for supplies. Before the looting gets out of control," I said, reaching into my bag of holding and pulling out a map that I had been using. It was a map of Raccoon City, and it was covered in markings denoting places we needed to loot -- complete with a color code of necessity. Medicine and weapons were red, food and general supplies in yellow, and general stuff to make living in a cramped series of tunnels suck a little less in green.
Chris blinked at the map, but his focus was really zeroing in on the bag of holding. "Er, how did-"
"Oh yeah -- I forgot to mention that. It's a bag of holding, it can carry up to five hundred pounds worth of stuff without changing weight. It's folded space. Don't worry about it," I said, and on second thought, I reached into the bag up to my elbow to find something I tossed in there.
Jill frowned at me, her eyebrows drawing together, "That's how you carried the axe?!" She blurted, dumbfounded.
"What kind of sci-fi bullshit is this?" Chris asked me, his jaw dropping as I found what I was looking for. A sticker.
No sci-fi bullshit. Magic. However, I knew that answer would just raise more questions. So, instead, I lied. "Nanomachines," I told him, trying to keep my amusement out of my voice. I could tell that he didn't even know what those were. "Tiny, microscopic robots that are invisible to the naked eye. I'm using them to create a folded space, and this. Jill, your arm please," I said, and she gave me the weirdest look.
But, hesitantly, she offered her arm. I took off the film, wet a cloth with a water bottle in the bag of holding, and pressed the stick-on tattoo onto the back of her wrist. "This is another function. Whenever you are about to take a big hit, throw your arm out to block it, and the nanomachines will generate a force field to protect you," All blatant bullshit, but it was bullshit that was a lot easier to explain magic, how I had it, why I had it, and why no one else did. Nanomachines were hard to wrap your head around, but in comparison to a disease that reanimated the dead?
It was a lie that was grounded in reality.
"That is… some serious sci-fi shit. How many of those do you have?" Chris questioned, looking curiously at the smiley face that was on Jill's shoulder.
"I only have enough for the bag and the tattoo. For now," I told him. Then I made a snap decision and tossed him the bag. "Use that to carry the guns in."
"Where did you even get this stuff? Why didn't you ever mention it before?" Jill questioned, poking at the Spellwrought tattoo in curiosity and alarm. It should still work, since it was only the ink that needed to be infused with magic. Though, it did open itself up to being damaged. It was worth the trade off, I think, because I highly doubt that I was going to be able to convince either Jill or Chris to let me come near them with a needle.
"You never asked, and I said don't worry about it. We'll meet up here in an hour, alright?" I said, giving them a thumbs up and started walking away.
"Rude! Answer the question Rude!"
…
Despite what I said, I did have some errands to run before I could start calling in bomb threats at schools and kidnapping babies. Mostly because school wasn't open yet, and kidnapping babies was one of those things you wanted to do last minute because cops took it rather seriously. However, those errands weren't something that I could do with Jill around. Or Chris. Mostly on account that I wouldn't be able to explain it in a way that they would understand.
Spell Components.
Some would be a whole lot easier to procure than others. Take Witch Bolt for an example -- the spell component that it required was a burnt twig from a tree that had been struck by lightning. That wasn't exactly something that I could get my hands on. It wasn't something I could easily buy online either because Amazon wasn't a thing yet. The only thing I found was weird witch websites that I couldn't guarantee hadn't just burnt some twigs.
Normally, a DM would wave off the components simply because it was too much of a pain in the ass to actually keep up with. If they did, they treated it like gold requirements that you had to spend a bit to acquire.
However, the more problematic materials in DnD, such as diamonds, could be pretty easily acquired. That much I proved when I took a baseball bat to the glass pane of a jewelry shop, ignoring the alarm that started blaring, and helped myself to the jewelry hidden behind the counters. Diamonds, gold dust, jewel dust, and types -- all of them had a set amount. A diamond that cost 100 gp, or gold dust that cost 25 gp. So on and so on. A huge pain in the ass playing, but when you could freely commit crimes without worry about game balance?
Easy peasy.
"Revify spam, here I come," I muttered, idly wishing that I kept the bag of holding as I shoved jewelry into a bag. Ironically enough, spells like Fireball would end up being more costly for me. I'm sure I could get my hands on some bat guano, but I had absolutely no idea where. Licorice root would also be bit of a pain, but I'm sure I could find a Whole Foods that would carry that special brand of healthy bullshit.
Slinging a bag over my shoulder, I turned on a heel and- "Seriously?" I demanded, seeing a cop appear in the busted out window, leveling a gun at me. "Of all the shit that's going on tonight, you have the time to bother with a simple robbery?"
"Get on the ground, now! Drop the bag and put your hands above your head!" The cop barked at me over the sound of the wailing alarm. His expression was pale and he had some dark bags underneath his eyes. He looked like a guy that was already exhausted before being straddled with an allnighter. "Hands! Put your hands in the air!" He added, and I was so extremely annoyed right now. Of all the odds. Would Jill and Chris be able to bail me out if I wound up in a cell?
"Fuck. Fine! Fine, take me in, you absolute dick. I'm only trying to save the world," I muttered underneath my breath, tossing the bag on the ground before putting my hands up. Really didn't feel like testing how my AC worked with bullets. The cop approached slowly, his eyes darting around everywhere but behind him. It was then that I saw that a cop wasn't the only one drawn by the blaring alarm. A corpse was shambling across the street, between the few bystanders that were on the road. Her teeth were bloody and I saw a huge chunk was taken out of her upper thigh with her skirt missing.
I could take advantage of that. "Behind you! Dude! Cop-Guy, behind you! There's someone behind you!" I started, my voice getting louder and more frantic as the cop approached, not looking behind him. The zombie stumbled forward, seemingly fixated on the cop, who refused to not have the gun pointed directly at my face.
"I'm not that stupid-" he started and I made a snap decision. I slapped the gun away, hearing it go off in my ear and something hit my shoulder, but I ignored it for now. Lunging to my feet, I shoulder-checked the cop, knocking him out of the way for the zombie that lunged for him. The zombie tripped over my bag, falling on its face. The cop scrambled to his feet, looking at me with wide eyes for a moment before he pointed it at the woman. "M-Ma'am? Are you alright-" He started, going to pick her up but keeping the gun pointed in my general direction.
"Don't-" I started, going for the gun again, but it was too late this time. The zombie lashed out, biting the offered hand and the cop screamed in agony. Fuck. God damn it. Fucking fuck. Lunging forward, with a blood-soaked hand I ripped the gun out of his. Taking aim, I shot the woman in the back of the head, letting him rip his hand free and I saw he was missing a finger. The cop looked up at me with a bloodless face, holding up a hand as if to wave me off…
"I'm so sorry," I told him and pulled the trigger. A bullet ripped through his forehead, splattering blood across a display case. I tried. I did my best. I did what I could, but fuck, that stung. I-
The familiar sensation struck me. Time seemed to wrap, a single millisecond stretching on and on while I found myself looking at my character sheet. Looks like killing the cop was enough to push me over the edge and level up.
I made my choices quickly. Another level in Artificer was taken, bringing me up to level three in the class and unlocking a choice of my subclass. I had waffled between the big three a fair bit -- the Armor artificer was appealing simply because of the defensive benefits. There was going to be truly staggering amounts of danger, and encasing myself in an iron-man suit sounded extremely reassuring. However, I had so many other options to protect myself in addition to the fact that I really would need to hit a lot harder if I wanted to throw down with creatures like Nemesis or Mr. X.
So, it was really a choice between Artillerist and Battle Smith.
More dakka was the deciding factor, leading me to choose Artillerist. The class features tilted the scales in its favor -- Eldritch Cannon was going to be extremely useful. It was basically a battle bot that could spit fire, heals, and projectiles. Even better, it was something independent of me. In game terms, it used a bonus action for me to fire it and control it, but in reality, it was a battle bot that I could control with my mind while I was also attacking something.
With that choice made, I went through my spell list and saw some options open up. With the components needed for the spells to work, I quickly made my selection.
Rudeus Rain
Variant Human
Artificer 3
Level 3 (Xp: 900/2700)
Strength: 9 (-1)
Dexterity: 15 (+2)
Constitution: 16 (+3)
Intelligence: 17 (+3)
Wisdom: 12 (+1)
Charisma: 8 (-1)
Feats:
Fey Touched: Your exposure to the Feywild's magic has changed you, granting you the following benefits:
Spells:
Cantrips
Mending (V/S/M): This spell repairs a single break or tear in an object you touch, such as a broken chain link, two halves of a broken key, a torn cloak, or a leaking wineskin. As long as the break or tear is no larger than 1 foot in any dimension, you mend it, leaving no trace of the former damage.
Spare the Dying (V, S): You touch a living creature that has 0 hit points. The creature becomes stable. This spell has no effect on undead or constructs.
Fire Bolt (V/S): You hurl a mote of fire at a creature or object within range. Make a ranged spell attack against the target. On a hit, the target takes 1d10 fire damage. A flammable object hit by this spell ignites if it isn't being worn or carried.
1st Level
Catapult: Choose one object weighing 1 to 5 pounds within range that isn't being worn or carried. The object flies in a straight line up to 90 feet in a direction you choose before falling to the ground, stopping early if it impacts against a solid surface. If the object would strike a creature, that creature must make a Dexterity saving throw. On a failed save, the object strikes the target and stops moving. When the object strikes something, the object and what it strikes each take 3d8 bludgeoning damage.
Cure Wounds (V/S): A creature you touch regains a number of hit points equal to 1d8 + your spellcasting ability modifier. This spell has no effect on undead or constructs.
Detect Poison and Disease (V/S) (Fey Touched: Once per Day): For the duration, you can sense the presence and location of poisons, poisonous creatures, and diseases within 30 feet of you. You also identify the kind of poison, poisonous creature, or disease in each case.
The spell can penetrate most barriers, but it is blocked by 1 foot of stone, 1 inch of common metal, a thin sheet of lead, or 3 feet of wood or dirt.
Magic Missile (V/S): You create three glowing darts of magical force. Each dart hits a creature of your choice that you can see within range. A dart deals 1d4 + 1 force damage to its target. The darts all strike simultaneously, and you can direct them to hit one creature or several.
Longstrider (V/S/M): You touch a creature. The target's speed increases by 10 feet until the spell ends.
Feather Fall (V/M): Choose up to five falling creatures within range. A falling creature's rate of descent slows to 60 feet per round until the spell ends. If the creature lands before the spell ends, it takes no falling damage and can land on its feet, and the spell ends for that creature.
Grease (V/S/M): Slick grease covers the ground in a 10-foot square centered on a point within range and turns it into difficult terrain for the duration.
When the grease appears, each creature standing in its area must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or fall prone. A creature that enters the area or ends its turn there must also succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or fall prone.
Thunderwave (V/S): A wave of thunderous force sweeps out from you. Each creature in a 15-foot cube originating from you must make a Constitution saving throw. On a failed save, a creature takes 2d8 thunder damage and is pushed 10 feet away from you. On a successful save, the creature takes half as much damage and isn't pushed.
In addition, unsecured objects that are completely within the area of effect are automatically pushed 10 feet away from you by the spell's effect, and the spell emits a thunderous boom audible out to 300 feet.
Tasha's Caustic Brew (V/S/M): A stream of acid emanates from you in a line 30 feet long and 5 feet wide in a direction you choose. Each creature in the line must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or be covered in acid for the spell's duration or until a creature uses its action to scrape or wash the acid off itself or another creature. A creature covered in the acid takes 2d4 acid damage at start of each of its turns.
2nd Level
Misty Step (V) (Fey Touched: Once per Day): Briefly surrounded by silvery mist, you teleport up to 30 feet to an unoccupied space that you can see.
Utility spells were a lot more useful in this situation. Being able to run as fast as an Olympic athlete? Being able to make a quick escape out of a building and not going splat? Being able to disguise my appearance in a pinch to pass myself off as someone else? All extremely useful spells. In comparison, the damage spells were almost lacking -- Caustic Brew would be good for hitting a group of undead. Thunderwave was a spell that Artificers gained as they leveled, so I couldn't see it being used much, but it did seem like a good way to gain the undead's attention.
Then, I was back. Time resumed its normal pace, and- "Oh, shit, I got shot," I breathed, a hand going to my shoulder to find that my sleeve was completely soaked with blood. Holy shit. Oh fuck. God fucking damn, that fucking hurt like a fucking motherfucker. I tried to take in a breath, but, shockingly, getting shot really fucking hurt! Why did it burn so much?! "Ah, fucking fuuuuuuckkk…! C-Cure Wounds!" I cast on myself, expending a spell slot and instantly, I felt the pain vanish immediately.
Tenderly, I poked around at the wound to find that the flesh had smoothed over. I was healed. Picking that spell was the single greatest decision that I have ever made, I decided.
I looked at the dead cop, guilt churning away in my gut. "Sorry. I tried," I told him, reaching down and grabbing my hard-won loot before heading out. The people beat feet when they heard the gunshots, leaving me to leave the jewelry store. When I did, I saw that there was more undead on the road, two more of them were shambling toward me with their arms raised. No blood on them, or signs of infection.
I raised my newfound pistol, "I might have been wrong about when everything goes to shit." That was a worrying thought. I pulled the trigger twice and the two zombies fell to the ground. Firearm proficiency made me a pretty decent shot. Hardly a deadeye that could shoot the wings off of a fly from a mile out, but I could reliably hit a target. Swallowing thickly, I tossed the loot into the car that I stole specifically for this excursion. Looking down the street, I saw no one else.
Sliding into the car, I turned the key and I was hit with more bad news coming from the radio station I had on. "-thing going on in the stadium! A riot seems to have broken out! I-I suppose the Raccoon Rascals sure hate that they're down three points!" An announcer continued, catching my attention, an edge of fear in his voice. "Oh my god, is that guy- he's eating that woman!" He exclaimed and my jaw dropped.
"There's a baseball game happening tonight?" I breathed, having completely missed that. I'm such a nerd I completely forgot that baseball even existed. Oh, that wasn't good. That wasn't good at all. That was a lot of people in an enclosed space making a shit ton of noise with absolutely no idea what was going on. Swallowing a lump in my throat, I stomped on the gas as the radio host cut himself off, and I completely ignored every rule of the law to drive to the stadium. With my other hand, I took out a phone and dialed one.
Jill didn't take any time at all to pick up.
"We fucked up."
…
Chris Redfield felt like he was in his element, despite the horrors that were incoming. He found his element back in the airforce as a high risk pilot -- whenever an emergency evac was needed, he was the one that flew out to rescue his guys from whatever mess they managed to land themselves in. It's what he would have spent his career doing if he had any say in it, but a few too many headbutts with his commanding officer saw him discharged.
It was then that he was scouted into the Special Tactics And Rescue Service - S.T.A.R.S. An elite division of the police force that was tasked with handling dangerous situations, with a lot of elbow room for private investigations. It was perfect for him, and he took to it like a fish to water. Right up until the mansion where everything first went to hell.
Yet, despite the incoming flood of it coming his way now, Chris didn't find himself nervous. He wasn't scared. He was focused and ready, the pressure making him into the best possible version of himself. "It's good to see you, Kendo," Chris greeted an old friend.
Kendo was the best gunsmith in the city. A man in his late thirties, with a close beard and a bit of a gut. However, everyone in the police force, especially S.T.A.R.S, knew that you came to Kendo when you needed guns. If he didn't have something in stock, then he knew how to get it or how to make it. Kendo offered a tired smile, shaking his hand. "Good to see you, Chris. Wish it was under better circumstances, though."
"Believe me, I wish this was a social visit," Chris agreed, entering the shop and was greeted with the scent of steel and gun oil.
Kendo's brow furrowed as he looked at Chris, doubt shining in his eyes, "I trust you, Chris, but you're asking for a lot. A whole lot. This could ruin me. Best I could hope for is that they revoke my license but, realistically, I'm going to be looking at jail time." Kendo stated outright, and despite his clear reservations and the risk he was taking, Chris noticed that the store was broken down. Weapons were in crates, all of the ammo in the store was stacked up, and the attachments were sorted.
Chris was a little humbled by the trust that Kendo was showing, because he was right. If Chris was lying, then Kendo would be facing up to life in the slammer. Unfortunately for everyone, Chris was telling the truth. "These things wiped out Bravo team a few months back. Nearly killed Alpha team. And now they're in the city, and no one is prepared for it. I wish it wasn't the case, but we're going to need these." To that, Kendo's forehead creased with worry lines.
"So, that crazy guy was telling the truth then? Came in here, flung a bunch of papers in my face screaming about the end times -- he was right?" Kendo questioned, and… sounds like Rude really had a method of doing things. Chris offered a small nod and Kendo dragged a hand down his face, "Shit. I should have bought more ammo like he said."
"Couldn't have known, and you're doing enough. Do you know where to go?" Chris asked, approaching the stacks of ammo. He grabbed a case and took out the small burlap sack that honestly looked like it was about to fall a part. But, true to what Rude said, when he pushed the ammo into the bag, it sunk in it like it wasn't even there. Something that didn't go unnoticed by Kendo, whose jaw dropped at the sight.
"I-... yeah, central station. What is that?" Kendo asked, and Chris shoved another box of ammo into the sack. Again, it just fell into it and vanished from sight, but when he reached in, he easily found the box.
That was the question. Rude became a lot more suspicious with this thing. It was like something right out of Star Trek or Star Wars. Nanomachines. That's not something that a civilian would be able to get his hands on. There was a lot more to Rude than met the eye, but for now, he was picking up a shovel when an ocean of shit was pouring their way. No- more than that. He was the first one to spot the ocean of shit, and the first to pick up a shovel.
Suspicious or not, Rude had earned himself the benefit of the doubt.
"It's something the crazy guy gave me. Should help us transport all of this," Chris started, loading up on ammo. The guns could go in the truck that Jill gave him. When she got one, Chris had no idea. However, it was then that his phone started ringing. Picking it up, he didn't get a chance to say anything before Jill's panicked voice reached his ear.
"People are turning in the stadium! It's the Rascals versus the Sharks," Jill told him and Chris felt like someone punched him in the gut. The baseball tournament. The Rascals hadn't reached the finals in the better part of twenty years, and it was against the Sharks, Raccoon City's rival. Worse, it was a homegame. The turnout was going to be absolutely massive. How could they have missed this?
"I'm on my way. Does Rude know?" Chris said, snapping to attention. This was an utter disaster. People would be trampling over themselves to escape the stadium, but there was only so many people that could squeeze through the doors. A lot of people would be turned in that stadium, and then those dead would spill out into the city like a flood.
"He's on his way already. I'm coordinating with the police now, but we need feet on the ground," Jill told him and Kendo started to look nervous. Jill ended the call and Chris turned to him.
"Get your daughter and yourself to central station. Hold up there," Chris told him, earning a serious nod from Kendo. With that, Chris stormed out of the gunshop, throwing himself into the driver's seat, and he only just barely noticed Kendo throwing some weapons in the bed of the truck before he sped off in the direction of the stadium. He swerved around cars, jumped up onto the sidewalk more than once, and it was nothing short of a relief when he found some flashing lights on his tail when he came to a screeching halt.
Rude was standing in front of a set of doors -- the entire wall was covered in them, and people were streaming out of them by the dozen. He stood like a rock in face of a raging river, his gun out and taking shots at those that came out. And it was then that Chris realized that not everyone that was coming out of the stadium was still human. Bodies dropped, some of them feasting on a person that hadn't managed to get away in time.
"RCPD! RCPD!" Chris shouted, getting out of the truck and flashing his badge. To his relief, he did recognize the cops that were trying to chase him down. Marvin Branagh, a good cop that was well on his way to becoming a detective. The only thing holding him back was a budget. "Marvin! We have to shoot the infected in the head. Catch!"
Marvin sputtered, catching an assault rifle that Chris threw his way. "Chris- what are you-" he began, only to snap his mouth with a click when he caught sight of a woman getting her throat ripped out by a zombie. A split second later, it was shot in the head by Rude.
It was only then that Chris noticed the… thing in front of Rude, when Chris went to stand next to him to hold the line. Directly in front of him was a… well, a little robot. It had six legs that that secured it to the ground, which all connected to a small base that had a railgun looking thing secured to it. Every six seconds or so, it would fire a shot that impacted a zombie, striking them with enough force that even if it didn't hit them in the head, they still dropped. "What is that?!"
"Don't worry about it," Rude dismissed the question. "Do you have any more ammo? I'm out," He said, and Chris tossed him the bag as he picked up where Rude left off. There were more dead than living that were coming out of the stadium now. And there were dozen upon dozens of them. For this single entrance.
Rude reached in, grabbing a box of ammo, and began loading up while Marvin approached from behind, holding the line with them. "You better not get me fired, Chris!" He protested even as he began opening fire.
"Getting fired is the least of your worries now, Marvin," Chris told him, being brutally honest. "Rude, how did we miss this?" Rude had been so on top of things. He seemed to have everything covered. Enough so that Chris didn't feel the need to press him on the plan.
"Do I look like I have ever played a sport in my life?!" Rude protested the question, still loading a mag before sliding it into the gun, loading a bullet in the chamber, and started firing at the seemingly never ending horde of zombies coming out of the stadium. They were keeping them at bay, but only here. Only at this entrance. And, in response to that question, Chris glanced at him.
Yeah. Fair enough. "We can't hold here!" Chris warned, seeing that the dead were slowly encroaching. If not from directly in front of them, then from the sides. It was only a matter of time before they were overrun. No other way to say it. And, in response, the spider-bot skittered forward toward the veritable sea of undead and belched a gust of fire that streamed over the corpses, igniting them. It didn't stop them from marching forward, but it was burning them up. It'd be tough to move when your muscles were charcoal.
Almost as if to agree with them, something landed directly behind him. Chris felt the vibrations rush through his feet, making him whip around to-
"What the fuck?" Chris breathed, looking up at a massive creature that stood closer to ten feet tall than not, his face stapled together without the lips and wrapped in black cloth. The Umbrella logo on it was impossible to mistake, however. With that alone, he knew it was nothing but trouble even before it took a threatening step forward from the small crater it made with its landing.
"Oh shi- worry about that, Chris! Definitely worry about that!" Rude yelped from behind him.
"STARS!" It growled, striding toward Chris.
Well… this wasn't good.
...
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"What's more likely -- that construction is actually being done or that two random people just decided to block off the metro?" I asked Jill, cocking an eyebrow. She looked like she wanted to argue the point, but she couldn't. "No one questions a man in a reflective vest carrying a ladder. No one will bat an eye," I promised. And, so far, I had been proven right. We had shut down a lane of traffic at the nearest stops to the central station. We couldn't completely block off all traffic though, simply because that would cause enough of an inconvenience that someone would complain enough to warrant a response.
But it worked just fine in any case.
Enough that we went to work. The yellow tape was just the start. While I broke out my tools and materials, Jill went about setting up the actual defenses. We stole some of the chain link fence sections and some orange and white barricades to set up a perimeter around the exit. The barricades went behind the fencing to help make sure that they didn't topple over in case the numbers got out of hand. We got some odd looks from the people passing by, but none commented. Such was the power of a reflective vest.
That left me free to beef up the defenses inside of the actual station stop. None were particularly big because we were so close to the central station, but they were still sizable -- the weird spinning bar things numbered a dozen across. Alone, those wouldn't stop any zombies, so I went about making some additions to them. As an Artificer, I was drowning in tool proficiencies and one of them was smithing tools.
And it was rather generous with what it considered a smithing tool. I thought I'd have to break out the forge and hammer to build the barricade, but all I needed was a blowtorch and a mask. I'm guessing it was because welding was a more modern aspect of smithing. Not really sure and I didn't worry too much about it on account of how convenient it was. My welding wasn't exactly godly, but it was good enough for a rush job. I added bars above the rotating things, making a makeshift wall.
Creating a singular 'doorway' I removed one of the spinny things and put up a chain link door. A stopgap for the moment. We could look for upgrades when the clock wasn't actively working against us.
And, from there, it was repeating the process for all the other stops. There were only six of them nearby, but it wasn't exactly fast work. Hours ticked by as I secured the exits and wrapped them up with yellow caution tape. They earned a bunch of confused glances, but no one actually said anything about it. Both Jill and I finished our work near midnight, and secured the materials to continue building them.
It was then that a car pulled up on the side of the road and a brick shit house of a man stepped out of it. He was tall, though about an inch shorter than me, at 6'1. His dark hair was cut short with a five o'clock shadow clinging to a strong jawline. He was handsome. If I had to summarize him in a single word…then 'Jock' fit him best. He looked like the kind of guy that was the quarterback of the football team and fucked the prom queen in the back of an unnecessarily expensive car. Despite that, he walked up and greeted me with a friendly smile, "Chris Redfield."
"Rudeus Rain, but everyone calls me Rude," I shook his hand after taking off a thick glove. He had a firm grip without squeezing down like a macho asshole. "Thanks for coming. If I were you, then I probably would have kept flying out."
To that, Chris' smile grew. "If that were true, then none of us would be here. Except for Jill," he said, inclining his head to me. It was then that Jill walked up the steps and his eyebrows shot up, "Planning a career change, Jill?"
Jill seemed immensely relieved to see him, taking off the hard hat. "Just might after this. Glad you made it."
"Wasn't easy. There's a massive quarantine around the city that's diverting traffic -- they're not letting anyone into the city, for better or worse. But, it's nothing outright. Military personnel disguised as beat cops, roads closing because of sinkholes, and so on. Back roads are still open for those that know how to find them." Chris explained and I nodded.
"Is there no way to call them in?" Jill questioned, and to that, I answered.
"The government's already decided that it wants to secure its image over preserving life. I'm sure part of that is they have no idea what they're dealing with, but… well, Umbrella is a bioweapon arms dealer. If they aren't taking it seriously just from that, then I wouldn't trust them to find their own ass with both hands and a map." It wasn't what anyone wanted to hear, but it was the unfiltered truth. The Cold War ended half a decade ago, but most of the shot callers during that era were still in the seats of Congress.
Controlling perception and the Red Scare decision making was still a guiding principle.
"He's not wrong. As much as I would like an army of marines to scoop me up bridal style to rescue us from this mess, we shouldn't count on them," Chris agreed. "Looks like you've already started securing the perimeter and supplies. I talked to Kendo about munitions -- he's got his doubts, but he's willing to hear us out. Jill, you should reach out to Raymond. He's always been sweet on you, and he hates Irons more than we do."
"I'll start calling in bomb threats and kidnapping babies from the hospital," I informed, making Chris do a double take in my direction.
Jill rolled her eyes at my antics, "It's to prevent kids from going to school and staying with their families. As for the babies…" she looked at me and I shrugged.
"Babies are little noise and shit factories, but I don't hate them enough to let them get eaten by undead," I told them both bluntly, earning a wince from the both of them. "As soon as we get this taken care of, we need to start raiding for supplies. Before the looting gets out of control," I said, reaching into my bag of holding and pulling out a map that I had been using. It was a map of Raccoon City, and it was covered in markings denoting places we needed to loot -- complete with a color code of necessity. Medicine and weapons were red, food and general supplies in yellow, and general stuff to make living in a cramped series of tunnels suck a little less in green.
Chris blinked at the map, but his focus was really zeroing in on the bag of holding. "Er, how did-"
"Oh yeah -- I forgot to mention that. It's a bag of holding, it can carry up to five hundred pounds worth of stuff without changing weight. It's folded space. Don't worry about it," I said, and on second thought, I reached into the bag up to my elbow to find something I tossed in there.
Jill frowned at me, her eyebrows drawing together, "That's how you carried the axe?!" She blurted, dumbfounded.
"What kind of sci-fi bullshit is this?" Chris asked me, his jaw dropping as I found what I was looking for. A sticker.
No sci-fi bullshit. Magic. However, I knew that answer would just raise more questions. So, instead, I lied. "Nanomachines," I told him, trying to keep my amusement out of my voice. I could tell that he didn't even know what those were. "Tiny, microscopic robots that are invisible to the naked eye. I'm using them to create a folded space, and this. Jill, your arm please," I said, and she gave me the weirdest look.
But, hesitantly, she offered her arm. I took off the film, wet a cloth with a water bottle in the bag of holding, and pressed the stick-on tattoo onto the back of her wrist. "This is another function. Whenever you are about to take a big hit, throw your arm out to block it, and the nanomachines will generate a force field to protect you," All blatant bullshit, but it was bullshit that was a lot easier to explain magic, how I had it, why I had it, and why no one else did. Nanomachines were hard to wrap your head around, but in comparison to a disease that reanimated the dead?
It was a lie that was grounded in reality.
"That is… some serious sci-fi shit. How many of those do you have?" Chris questioned, looking curiously at the smiley face that was on Jill's shoulder.
"I only have enough for the bag and the tattoo. For now," I told him. Then I made a snap decision and tossed him the bag. "Use that to carry the guns in."
"Where did you even get this stuff? Why didn't you ever mention it before?" Jill questioned, poking at the Spellwrought tattoo in curiosity and alarm. It should still work, since it was only the ink that needed to be infused with magic. Though, it did open itself up to being damaged. It was worth the trade off, I think, because I highly doubt that I was going to be able to convince either Jill or Chris to let me come near them with a needle.
"You never asked, and I said don't worry about it. We'll meet up here in an hour, alright?" I said, giving them a thumbs up and started walking away.
"Rude! Answer the question Rude!"
…
Despite what I said, I did have some errands to run before I could start calling in bomb threats at schools and kidnapping babies. Mostly because school wasn't open yet, and kidnapping babies was one of those things you wanted to do last minute because cops took it rather seriously. However, those errands weren't something that I could do with Jill around. Or Chris. Mostly on account that I wouldn't be able to explain it in a way that they would understand.
Spell Components.
Some would be a whole lot easier to procure than others. Take Witch Bolt for an example -- the spell component that it required was a burnt twig from a tree that had been struck by lightning. That wasn't exactly something that I could get my hands on. It wasn't something I could easily buy online either because Amazon wasn't a thing yet. The only thing I found was weird witch websites that I couldn't guarantee hadn't just burnt some twigs.
Normally, a DM would wave off the components simply because it was too much of a pain in the ass to actually keep up with. If they did, they treated it like gold requirements that you had to spend a bit to acquire.
However, the more problematic materials in DnD, such as diamonds, could be pretty easily acquired. That much I proved when I took a baseball bat to the glass pane of a jewelry shop, ignoring the alarm that started blaring, and helped myself to the jewelry hidden behind the counters. Diamonds, gold dust, jewel dust, and types -- all of them had a set amount. A diamond that cost 100 gp, or gold dust that cost 25 gp. So on and so on. A huge pain in the ass playing, but when you could freely commit crimes without worry about game balance?
Easy peasy.
"Revify spam, here I come," I muttered, idly wishing that I kept the bag of holding as I shoved jewelry into a bag. Ironically enough, spells like Fireball would end up being more costly for me. I'm sure I could get my hands on some bat guano, but I had absolutely no idea where. Licorice root would also be bit of a pain, but I'm sure I could find a Whole Foods that would carry that special brand of healthy bullshit.
Slinging a bag over my shoulder, I turned on a heel and- "Seriously?" I demanded, seeing a cop appear in the busted out window, leveling a gun at me. "Of all the shit that's going on tonight, you have the time to bother with a simple robbery?"
"Get on the ground, now! Drop the bag and put your hands above your head!" The cop barked at me over the sound of the wailing alarm. His expression was pale and he had some dark bags underneath his eyes. He looked like a guy that was already exhausted before being straddled with an allnighter. "Hands! Put your hands in the air!" He added, and I was so extremely annoyed right now. Of all the odds. Would Jill and Chris be able to bail me out if I wound up in a cell?
"Fuck. Fine! Fine, take me in, you absolute dick. I'm only trying to save the world," I muttered underneath my breath, tossing the bag on the ground before putting my hands up. Really didn't feel like testing how my AC worked with bullets. The cop approached slowly, his eyes darting around everywhere but behind him. It was then that I saw that a cop wasn't the only one drawn by the blaring alarm. A corpse was shambling across the street, between the few bystanders that were on the road. Her teeth were bloody and I saw a huge chunk was taken out of her upper thigh with her skirt missing.
I could take advantage of that. "Behind you! Dude! Cop-Guy, behind you! There's someone behind you!" I started, my voice getting louder and more frantic as the cop approached, not looking behind him. The zombie stumbled forward, seemingly fixated on the cop, who refused to not have the gun pointed directly at my face.
"I'm not that stupid-" he started and I made a snap decision. I slapped the gun away, hearing it go off in my ear and something hit my shoulder, but I ignored it for now. Lunging to my feet, I shoulder-checked the cop, knocking him out of the way for the zombie that lunged for him. The zombie tripped over my bag, falling on its face. The cop scrambled to his feet, looking at me with wide eyes for a moment before he pointed it at the woman. "M-Ma'am? Are you alright-" He started, going to pick her up but keeping the gun pointed in my general direction.
"Don't-" I started, going for the gun again, but it was too late this time. The zombie lashed out, biting the offered hand and the cop screamed in agony. Fuck. God damn it. Fucking fuck. Lunging forward, with a blood-soaked hand I ripped the gun out of his. Taking aim, I shot the woman in the back of the head, letting him rip his hand free and I saw he was missing a finger. The cop looked up at me with a bloodless face, holding up a hand as if to wave me off…
"I'm so sorry," I told him and pulled the trigger. A bullet ripped through his forehead, splattering blood across a display case. I tried. I did my best. I did what I could, but fuck, that stung. I-
The familiar sensation struck me. Time seemed to wrap, a single millisecond stretching on and on while I found myself looking at my character sheet. Looks like killing the cop was enough to push me over the edge and level up.
I made my choices quickly. Another level in Artificer was taken, bringing me up to level three in the class and unlocking a choice of my subclass. I had waffled between the big three a fair bit -- the Armor artificer was appealing simply because of the defensive benefits. There was going to be truly staggering amounts of danger, and encasing myself in an iron-man suit sounded extremely reassuring. However, I had so many other options to protect myself in addition to the fact that I really would need to hit a lot harder if I wanted to throw down with creatures like Nemesis or Mr. X.
So, it was really a choice between Artillerist and Battle Smith.
More dakka was the deciding factor, leading me to choose Artillerist. The class features tilted the scales in its favor -- Eldritch Cannon was going to be extremely useful. It was basically a battle bot that could spit fire, heals, and projectiles. Even better, it was something independent of me. In game terms, it used a bonus action for me to fire it and control it, but in reality, it was a battle bot that I could control with my mind while I was also attacking something.
With that choice made, I went through my spell list and saw some options open up. With the components needed for the spells to work, I quickly made my selection.
Rudeus Rain
Variant Human
Artificer 3
Level 3 (Xp: 900/2700)
Strength: 9 (-1)
Dexterity: 15 (+2)
Constitution: 16 (+3)
Intelligence: 17 (+3)
Wisdom: 12 (+1)
Charisma: 8 (-1)
Feats:
Fey Touched: Your exposure to the Feywild's magic has changed you, granting you the following benefits:
- Increase your Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma score by 1, to a maximum of 20.
- You learn the misty step spell and one 1st-level spell of your choice. The 1st-level spell must be from the divination or enchantment school of magic. You can cast each of these spells without expending a spell slot. Once you cast either of these spells in this way, you can't cast that spell in this way again until you finish a long rest. You can also cast these spells using spell slots you have of the appropriate level. The spells' spellcasting ability is the ability increased by this feat.
Spells:
Cantrips
Mending (V/S/M): This spell repairs a single break or tear in an object you touch, such as a broken chain link, two halves of a broken key, a torn cloak, or a leaking wineskin. As long as the break or tear is no larger than 1 foot in any dimension, you mend it, leaving no trace of the former damage.
Spare the Dying (V, S): You touch a living creature that has 0 hit points. The creature becomes stable. This spell has no effect on undead or constructs.
Fire Bolt (V/S): You hurl a mote of fire at a creature or object within range. Make a ranged spell attack against the target. On a hit, the target takes 1d10 fire damage. A flammable object hit by this spell ignites if it isn't being worn or carried.
1st Level
Catapult: Choose one object weighing 1 to 5 pounds within range that isn't being worn or carried. The object flies in a straight line up to 90 feet in a direction you choose before falling to the ground, stopping early if it impacts against a solid surface. If the object would strike a creature, that creature must make a Dexterity saving throw. On a failed save, the object strikes the target and stops moving. When the object strikes something, the object and what it strikes each take 3d8 bludgeoning damage.
Cure Wounds (V/S): A creature you touch regains a number of hit points equal to 1d8 + your spellcasting ability modifier. This spell has no effect on undead or constructs.
Detect Poison and Disease (V/S) (Fey Touched: Once per Day): For the duration, you can sense the presence and location of poisons, poisonous creatures, and diseases within 30 feet of you. You also identify the kind of poison, poisonous creature, or disease in each case.
The spell can penetrate most barriers, but it is blocked by 1 foot of stone, 1 inch of common metal, a thin sheet of lead, or 3 feet of wood or dirt.
Magic Missile (V/S): You create three glowing darts of magical force. Each dart hits a creature of your choice that you can see within range. A dart deals 1d4 + 1 force damage to its target. The darts all strike simultaneously, and you can direct them to hit one creature or several.
Longstrider (V/S/M): You touch a creature. The target's speed increases by 10 feet until the spell ends.
Feather Fall (V/M): Choose up to five falling creatures within range. A falling creature's rate of descent slows to 60 feet per round until the spell ends. If the creature lands before the spell ends, it takes no falling damage and can land on its feet, and the spell ends for that creature.
Grease (V/S/M): Slick grease covers the ground in a 10-foot square centered on a point within range and turns it into difficult terrain for the duration.
When the grease appears, each creature standing in its area must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or fall prone. A creature that enters the area or ends its turn there must also succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or fall prone.
Thunderwave (V/S): A wave of thunderous force sweeps out from you. Each creature in a 15-foot cube originating from you must make a Constitution saving throw. On a failed save, a creature takes 2d8 thunder damage and is pushed 10 feet away from you. On a successful save, the creature takes half as much damage and isn't pushed.
In addition, unsecured objects that are completely within the area of effect are automatically pushed 10 feet away from you by the spell's effect, and the spell emits a thunderous boom audible out to 300 feet.
Tasha's Caustic Brew (V/S/M): A stream of acid emanates from you in a line 30 feet long and 5 feet wide in a direction you choose. Each creature in the line must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or be covered in acid for the spell's duration or until a creature uses its action to scrape or wash the acid off itself or another creature. A creature covered in the acid takes 2d4 acid damage at start of each of its turns.
2nd Level
Misty Step (V) (Fey Touched: Once per Day): Briefly surrounded by silvery mist, you teleport up to 30 feet to an unoccupied space that you can see.
Utility spells were a lot more useful in this situation. Being able to run as fast as an Olympic athlete? Being able to make a quick escape out of a building and not going splat? Being able to disguise my appearance in a pinch to pass myself off as someone else? All extremely useful spells. In comparison, the damage spells were almost lacking -- Caustic Brew would be good for hitting a group of undead. Thunderwave was a spell that Artificers gained as they leveled, so I couldn't see it being used much, but it did seem like a good way to gain the undead's attention.
Then, I was back. Time resumed its normal pace, and- "Oh, shit, I got shot," I breathed, a hand going to my shoulder to find that my sleeve was completely soaked with blood. Holy shit. Oh fuck. God fucking damn, that fucking hurt like a fucking motherfucker. I tried to take in a breath, but, shockingly, getting shot really fucking hurt! Why did it burn so much?! "Ah, fucking fuuuuuuckkk…! C-Cure Wounds!" I cast on myself, expending a spell slot and instantly, I felt the pain vanish immediately.
Tenderly, I poked around at the wound to find that the flesh had smoothed over. I was healed. Picking that spell was the single greatest decision that I have ever made, I decided.
I looked at the dead cop, guilt churning away in my gut. "Sorry. I tried," I told him, reaching down and grabbing my hard-won loot before heading out. The people beat feet when they heard the gunshots, leaving me to leave the jewelry store. When I did, I saw that there was more undead on the road, two more of them were shambling toward me with their arms raised. No blood on them, or signs of infection.
I raised my newfound pistol, "I might have been wrong about when everything goes to shit." That was a worrying thought. I pulled the trigger twice and the two zombies fell to the ground. Firearm proficiency made me a pretty decent shot. Hardly a deadeye that could shoot the wings off of a fly from a mile out, but I could reliably hit a target. Swallowing thickly, I tossed the loot into the car that I stole specifically for this excursion. Looking down the street, I saw no one else.
Sliding into the car, I turned the key and I was hit with more bad news coming from the radio station I had on. "-thing going on in the stadium! A riot seems to have broken out! I-I suppose the Raccoon Rascals sure hate that they're down three points!" An announcer continued, catching my attention, an edge of fear in his voice. "Oh my god, is that guy- he's eating that woman!" He exclaimed and my jaw dropped.
"There's a baseball game happening tonight?" I breathed, having completely missed that. I'm such a nerd I completely forgot that baseball even existed. Oh, that wasn't good. That wasn't good at all. That was a lot of people in an enclosed space making a shit ton of noise with absolutely no idea what was going on. Swallowing a lump in my throat, I stomped on the gas as the radio host cut himself off, and I completely ignored every rule of the law to drive to the stadium. With my other hand, I took out a phone and dialed one.
Jill didn't take any time at all to pick up.
"We fucked up."
…
Chris Redfield felt like he was in his element, despite the horrors that were incoming. He found his element back in the airforce as a high risk pilot -- whenever an emergency evac was needed, he was the one that flew out to rescue his guys from whatever mess they managed to land themselves in. It's what he would have spent his career doing if he had any say in it, but a few too many headbutts with his commanding officer saw him discharged.
It was then that he was scouted into the Special Tactics And Rescue Service - S.T.A.R.S. An elite division of the police force that was tasked with handling dangerous situations, with a lot of elbow room for private investigations. It was perfect for him, and he took to it like a fish to water. Right up until the mansion where everything first went to hell.
Yet, despite the incoming flood of it coming his way now, Chris didn't find himself nervous. He wasn't scared. He was focused and ready, the pressure making him into the best possible version of himself. "It's good to see you, Kendo," Chris greeted an old friend.
Kendo was the best gunsmith in the city. A man in his late thirties, with a close beard and a bit of a gut. However, everyone in the police force, especially S.T.A.R.S, knew that you came to Kendo when you needed guns. If he didn't have something in stock, then he knew how to get it or how to make it. Kendo offered a tired smile, shaking his hand. "Good to see you, Chris. Wish it was under better circumstances, though."
"Believe me, I wish this was a social visit," Chris agreed, entering the shop and was greeted with the scent of steel and gun oil.
Kendo's brow furrowed as he looked at Chris, doubt shining in his eyes, "I trust you, Chris, but you're asking for a lot. A whole lot. This could ruin me. Best I could hope for is that they revoke my license but, realistically, I'm going to be looking at jail time." Kendo stated outright, and despite his clear reservations and the risk he was taking, Chris noticed that the store was broken down. Weapons were in crates, all of the ammo in the store was stacked up, and the attachments were sorted.
Chris was a little humbled by the trust that Kendo was showing, because he was right. If Chris was lying, then Kendo would be facing up to life in the slammer. Unfortunately for everyone, Chris was telling the truth. "These things wiped out Bravo team a few months back. Nearly killed Alpha team. And now they're in the city, and no one is prepared for it. I wish it wasn't the case, but we're going to need these." To that, Kendo's forehead creased with worry lines.
"So, that crazy guy was telling the truth then? Came in here, flung a bunch of papers in my face screaming about the end times -- he was right?" Kendo questioned, and… sounds like Rude really had a method of doing things. Chris offered a small nod and Kendo dragged a hand down his face, "Shit. I should have bought more ammo like he said."
"Couldn't have known, and you're doing enough. Do you know where to go?" Chris asked, approaching the stacks of ammo. He grabbed a case and took out the small burlap sack that honestly looked like it was about to fall a part. But, true to what Rude said, when he pushed the ammo into the bag, it sunk in it like it wasn't even there. Something that didn't go unnoticed by Kendo, whose jaw dropped at the sight.
"I-... yeah, central station. What is that?" Kendo asked, and Chris shoved another box of ammo into the sack. Again, it just fell into it and vanished from sight, but when he reached in, he easily found the box.
That was the question. Rude became a lot more suspicious with this thing. It was like something right out of Star Trek or Star Wars. Nanomachines. That's not something that a civilian would be able to get his hands on. There was a lot more to Rude than met the eye, but for now, he was picking up a shovel when an ocean of shit was pouring their way. No- more than that. He was the first one to spot the ocean of shit, and the first to pick up a shovel.
Suspicious or not, Rude had earned himself the benefit of the doubt.
"It's something the crazy guy gave me. Should help us transport all of this," Chris started, loading up on ammo. The guns could go in the truck that Jill gave him. When she got one, Chris had no idea. However, it was then that his phone started ringing. Picking it up, he didn't get a chance to say anything before Jill's panicked voice reached his ear.
"People are turning in the stadium! It's the Rascals versus the Sharks," Jill told him and Chris felt like someone punched him in the gut. The baseball tournament. The Rascals hadn't reached the finals in the better part of twenty years, and it was against the Sharks, Raccoon City's rival. Worse, it was a homegame. The turnout was going to be absolutely massive. How could they have missed this?
"I'm on my way. Does Rude know?" Chris said, snapping to attention. This was an utter disaster. People would be trampling over themselves to escape the stadium, but there was only so many people that could squeeze through the doors. A lot of people would be turned in that stadium, and then those dead would spill out into the city like a flood.
"He's on his way already. I'm coordinating with the police now, but we need feet on the ground," Jill told him and Kendo started to look nervous. Jill ended the call and Chris turned to him.
"Get your daughter and yourself to central station. Hold up there," Chris told him, earning a serious nod from Kendo. With that, Chris stormed out of the gunshop, throwing himself into the driver's seat, and he only just barely noticed Kendo throwing some weapons in the bed of the truck before he sped off in the direction of the stadium. He swerved around cars, jumped up onto the sidewalk more than once, and it was nothing short of a relief when he found some flashing lights on his tail when he came to a screeching halt.
Rude was standing in front of a set of doors -- the entire wall was covered in them, and people were streaming out of them by the dozen. He stood like a rock in face of a raging river, his gun out and taking shots at those that came out. And it was then that Chris realized that not everyone that was coming out of the stadium was still human. Bodies dropped, some of them feasting on a person that hadn't managed to get away in time.
"RCPD! RCPD!" Chris shouted, getting out of the truck and flashing his badge. To his relief, he did recognize the cops that were trying to chase him down. Marvin Branagh, a good cop that was well on his way to becoming a detective. The only thing holding him back was a budget. "Marvin! We have to shoot the infected in the head. Catch!"
Marvin sputtered, catching an assault rifle that Chris threw his way. "Chris- what are you-" he began, only to snap his mouth with a click when he caught sight of a woman getting her throat ripped out by a zombie. A split second later, it was shot in the head by Rude.
It was only then that Chris noticed the… thing in front of Rude, when Chris went to stand next to him to hold the line. Directly in front of him was a… well, a little robot. It had six legs that that secured it to the ground, which all connected to a small base that had a railgun looking thing secured to it. Every six seconds or so, it would fire a shot that impacted a zombie, striking them with enough force that even if it didn't hit them in the head, they still dropped. "What is that?!"
"Don't worry about it," Rude dismissed the question. "Do you have any more ammo? I'm out," He said, and Chris tossed him the bag as he picked up where Rude left off. There were more dead than living that were coming out of the stadium now. And there were dozen upon dozens of them. For this single entrance.
Rude reached in, grabbing a box of ammo, and began loading up while Marvin approached from behind, holding the line with them. "You better not get me fired, Chris!" He protested even as he began opening fire.
"Getting fired is the least of your worries now, Marvin," Chris told him, being brutally honest. "Rude, how did we miss this?" Rude had been so on top of things. He seemed to have everything covered. Enough so that Chris didn't feel the need to press him on the plan.
"Do I look like I have ever played a sport in my life?!" Rude protested the question, still loading a mag before sliding it into the gun, loading a bullet in the chamber, and started firing at the seemingly never ending horde of zombies coming out of the stadium. They were keeping them at bay, but only here. Only at this entrance. And, in response to that question, Chris glanced at him.
Yeah. Fair enough. "We can't hold here!" Chris warned, seeing that the dead were slowly encroaching. If not from directly in front of them, then from the sides. It was only a matter of time before they were overrun. No other way to say it. And, in response, the spider-bot skittered forward toward the veritable sea of undead and belched a gust of fire that streamed over the corpses, igniting them. It didn't stop them from marching forward, but it was burning them up. It'd be tough to move when your muscles were charcoal.
Almost as if to agree with them, something landed directly behind him. Chris felt the vibrations rush through his feet, making him whip around to-
"What the fuck?" Chris breathed, looking up at a massive creature that stood closer to ten feet tall than not, his face stapled together without the lips and wrapped in black cloth. The Umbrella logo on it was impossible to mistake, however. With that alone, he knew it was nothing but trouble even before it took a threatening step forward from the small crater it made with its landing.
"Oh shi- worry about that, Chris! Definitely worry about that!" Rude yelped from behind him.
"STARS!" It growled, striding toward Chris.
Well… this wasn't good.
...
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- Location
- MI
First game had some hand wavy bits, but there was a mention the virus burns out fast, and unless it's in a carrier it goes inert. Combine that with the loads of low level dead virus exposure and supposedly the stars built up a mild resistance. By that logic, anyone who is infected and survives or gets a dose of dead virus by proxy would be more likely to live through it later on, and that makes the later games plot armor more manageable.
At least, that was what the books by SD Perry claimed, I like em, but ymmv.
This was an extremely fun read. Watched
Maikeru-kun
Great Reader
It's pretty hard to find a well written zombie fic, especially if it's Resident Evil. I like this and I can't wait to see how far it'll go. 
- Location
- Australia
Damn! I've never played through any resident evil games, just what I've picked up from fanfics and some let's plays back in the day.
That is to say that even having no real knowledge of the plot, you've hooked me in so hard! Fully engaged and immersed in this. Love the bullshit NANOMACHINES SON hand waving we've got going on. Also the realistic like wtf would you do if zombies were coming and only you knew about it.
That is to say that even having no real knowledge of the plot, you've hooked me in so hard! Fully engaged and immersed in this. Love the bullshit NANOMACHINES SON hand waving we've got going on. Also the realistic like wtf would you do if zombies were coming and only you knew about it.
This Fyre
- Location
- USA
Oh, he was big. Oh, he was scary. Oh, he was big and scary and this entire situation was not part of the plan! I thought Nemesis would be hunting Jill -- it's why I gave her the tattoo. Why was he here!? Right now, appearing as if he fell out of the sky almost directly on top of us with pinpoint accuracy. When we were already dealing with a huge snafu in the plan in the form of thousands of undead that would soon start pouring into the city, and we were just a small cork trying to hold back that flood. I'm not exactly sure what the worst case scenario would have looked like…
But, now that I think about it, it probably would have looked a lot like this.
"Oh shi- worry about that, Chris! Definitely worry about that!" I courageously yelled at the large man standing between me and the much larger monster.
"I'm worried!" Chris shot back, dropping to a knee and opening fire on the creature. The bullets from his assault rifle seemed to bounce off of its thick hide, and it hardly noticed as it strode through the gunfire. I made a snap decision, wheeling my Eldritch Cannon around and sending it up to Nemesis while I continued to fire at the undead. I had leveled up again, just before Chris arrived. The zombies were 50xp apiece, and there were a lot of them. I was tearing through the early levels like they were nothing.
The difference between level 3 and level 4 was 1,800xp. Which was thirty-six zombies, and I had killed a lot more than that standing here.
And I, foolishly, chose the Keen Mind feat. Got a little boost in intelligence, but more importantly, I could recall everything I had seen or heard in the past month. In game mechanics, that was used for using the DM to tell you things you had forgotten, but in real life? After a huge blunder like this? I thought it was a stroke of brilliance. In reality, I'm becoming increasingly convinced that I was the biggest dumbass on the face of the planet, because my big brain wasn't going to do much to Nemesis.
My Eldritch Cannon did, though. The railgun on it bucked back, the projectile slamming into Nemesis' chest with enough force to knock him back a solid five feet, his chest caving inward ever so slightly. However, the creature was hardly daunted. Chris was impressed, though, so there was that. "That thing packs a punch!"
"We have to move!" Marvin shouted out, the dead incoming. We could barely hold them off between the four of us, but with my Cannon and Chris dealing with Nemesis, they were quickly swarming us. The night air was filled with the sounds of moaning and groaning, so many of them that the gunshots almost seemed quiet in comparison. The zombies carried the scent of blood and shit, and with so many, I could practically taste both on my tongue.
Marvin was right. "The truck! Get in the truck!" I decided, abandoning my position as I grabbed the bag of holding while squeezing a few shots. And I really wish it was that easy, but Nemesis wasn't content to leave us be. Disgusting fleshy tendrils emerged from the monster's back, lashing out at Chris, who dove underneath it to roll to his feet. I squeezed a shot off at a zombie that lunged for him from behind, killing it, but Chris' attention was solely on the Nemesis. The creature tried to take another step, but another blast from my Cannon caught it in the leg, driving it to a knee.
I switched modes, and it took a terribly long six seconds. The barrel on my Cannon was dyed with a red light -- I went with a good old fashioned RGB color scheme. Naturally, red was for fire. Flames belched out of the Cannon, splashing over Nemesis as he lashed out. I threw myself to the side, but it wasn't enough to save me from getting swiped by the tentacle. It felt like I got hit by a baseball bat from a professional league player, knocking me down the steps and sending me tumbling.
My arm was broken, I realized, coming to a stop with a muffled 'oof'. If not because of the throbbing pain, then because I'm pretty sure a bone was sticking out of my arm. Leveling up didn't restore my spell slots. After healing the kid, then healing myself after getting shot… I only had the one left. I wouldn't get more until I had a long rest, but I didn't see that happening any time soon.
"Rude!" Chris shouted, and I suddenly found myself picked up by him, him throwing one of my arms over his shoulders as he half dragged me to the car while he unloaded bullets into Nemesis. I was blinded by pain. I thought the adrenaline would help, but every step was nothing short of pure agony. Did he break some of my ribs too?
"We have to kill it!" I shouted at him, knowing that it was true. I was completely unprepared for it. I thought I would have at least enough time to get my Arcane Firearm -- the thing I was building my whole class around. "It's as weak as it's ever going to be, we need to kill it here. And now," I decided, making a snap decision. I heard Nemesis roaring behind us and I looked over just in time to shove Chris out of the way. In response, I felt a punch in my back and looking down at it-
"That's so fucking gross!" I exclaimed, more horrified than anything. My Cannon took another shot at Nemesis, making it roar in frustration and hopefully, a shit ton of pain as the offending tendril that was squirming in my gut was ripped out. I dropped to my knees, rolling down the rest of the stairs and coming to a stop at the bottom. Shit. Did I just get infected? That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all.
Wait, when Jill got infected, she started spasming and foaming from the mouth. I was just bleeding out with my insides trying to become outsides. Was I fine? Well, I wasn't fine but was I not infected?
Regardless, there wasn't any choice now. "Cure Wounds," I decided, using the last one on myself. Best spell choice I could have made, I decided. Though, it was rather icky feeling my bone slide itself back into place, mending, while my organs shifted back where they were supposed to be. And, almost as in punishment for it, Nemesis finally lashed out at my Cannon that was drawing its attention and gave it a swift kick. It flew through the air, bouncing off the truck and landing in a heap. Sparks flew off my creation, but with three legs remaining, it pushed itself up.
I really needed to name it. It had guts.
Pushing myself to my feet, I saw Chris and Marvin firing at Nemesis, who was slowly being surrounded by undead. They ignored the creature, it registering as dead to them with their stunted senses, even as it blazed with fire. It had taken a few hard knocks despite my panic. It was durable, but not invincible. We could kill it if we overwhelmed it. Better now when it was comparatively weak than when it was a massive sludge monster and we needed a rail gun.
I shot at Nemesis again, this time catching it in the head, but it still was standing. The flesh gave away, revealing hints of skull, but other than that, it was fine. And with a lone black eye it only had eyes for Chris despite everything that we were throwing its way. It lumbered forward, splattering the brains of a zombie with the back of its fist, and in a low grumbling voice that was more of a growl, it uttered, "Stars!"
"Get to the car!" I shouted at the two of them, the zombies closing in on them even as Nemesis did. Grabbing the bag of holding, I hurled it at Nemesis, cutting my connection to the bag just as it hit his chest. True to form, the leather became normal leather, bursting at the seams as heaps of ammo exploded out of it with enough force that Nemesis stumbled a step back. The fire that clung to his body, ignited the bullets as Marvin and Chris threw themselves down the stairs.
The bullets exploded, acting like an explosive with how many of them there were. They tore into Nemesis but all of us were rushing into the car. I slid into the driver's seat, looking at him. He still stood, the flames flickering around him in a cloud of smoke from entire boxes of bullets. The undead were swarming forward, stumbling or falling down the steps. There were hundreds of them. Thousands, even. And they stumbled past Nemesis, who seemed to glower at us through the smoke and the fire.
"I thought you were dead!" Chris exclaimed as I slammed a foot on the gas the moment Marvin was in the back, and we started speeding away just as the first undead hands slammed against the truck. My Cannon sat between us, occasionally sparking with a grinding sound. Chris glanced at it, worried that it would blow up. And there was, admittedly, a non-zero chance that it might. "How are you-"
"Nanomachines," I threw out an answer, not really wanting to get into it now. "The answer will always be nanomachines."
"What was that thing? What were those things?!" Marvin demanded, sounding panicked.
"Big. Angry. Pissed off at Chris," I threw out adjectives as my mind raced a thousand miles a second. As we raced down the street, I saw the panicked and terrified people fleeing, most of which looked like they escaped from the stadium. My stomach clenched when I saw blood. They were bitten. Should I… no… no, it was way, way, way too late to hope for a contained outbreak. I need to refocus. The outbreak had happened -- I could only guess how many people had been bit at the stadium but managed to escape. Not great.
Nemesis was here. Also not great.
The plan had to be adapted, but the bones of it were still good. "Get Jill on the phone, we need to get the central station up and running."
"And us?" Chris asked, looking in the rearview mirror for Nemesis.
"We need to go to the hospital. Kill the zombies that are there, save who we can, and loot a shit ton of medical supplies." I said, forcing myself to calm down as I laid on my horn when I encountered traffic, and the sidewalks were full of people fleeing. The doctors would be able to get a grip on the infection -- easily singling out those that were bitten or infected. More than that, though, was the vaccine. And, possibly, Alice?
It was better to get it now than later, I decided. Just in case I was infected. My poor sweater. And my poor insides.
Marvin seemed to have a revelation in the back seat. "You're that crazy guy everyone has been talking about?!" He blurted out, looking at me while I looked for an opportunity to swerve around the traffic while Chris got on the phone.
"I wish I was just crazy. Unfortunately, I'm something far worse. I'm right," I told him, seeing a break in it and I drove up on the sidewalk to go around the long line of traffic. Ah. There had been a car crash at the intersection, and a bad one from the looks of it. Marvin didn't have a response to that, and I took the opportunity to reach into my pocket and take out one of the stickers I had on hand. With the destruction of my bag of holding, I had opened up an infusion slot and it was going to the Spellwrought tattoo.
Wetting the tattoo with the blood that was still soaked into my sweater, I infused it to my skin. As I did, Chris looked over at me. "Jill's at the station with a handful of cops, trying to get everything in order but just about everyone is being called out to deal with the undead-" Chris started, only to be cut off abruptly as something landed directly in front of us. I slammed on my brakes, the truck screeching to a halt but we were going too fast and still slammed into Nemesis.
It was still on fire and took the hit like a champ, his feet digging into the ground as he caught the front bumper. "Oh, shit!" I helped, my eyes going wide and a second later, the tenderil erupted from Nemesis' back, lunging forward at Marvin and me. No sooner than they had busted through the front windshield, I threw up the Shield and the tendrils bounced off of it. Directly where my heart would be. My Eldritch Cannon leapt up onto the dashboard, bracing for a split second before firing a blast that knocked Nemesis back, and I heard the painful cracking of ribs.
Nemesis was knocked back, but the Shield blinked out of existence a second later while the stick-on tattoo burned up.
"Get us out of here!" Marvin exclaimed while I slammed the car into reverse a couple dozen feet before throwing up the emergency break.
"Hit him!" Chris shouted, a bump on his forehead from the impact. He kept one hand on the dash and took his time to buckle his seatbelt. Stomping on the gas, I burned the tires out while my Cannon made another shot, striking Nemesis again. It was knocked back a few feet, but it looked like it was learning to lean into the blows. Its skin was charred, its chest had holes and chunks ripped out, and it had a bad limp, but all the same, it was marching forward. And, to my horror, its gait was getting stronger.
As the truck lurched forward, my Cannon fired another shot, then another, and just before we connected, the barrel shifted to green. I felt myself growing stronger as temp hp was given to all three of us in anticipation for the crash. The very last shot knocked Nemesis off balance, opening a perfect opportunity to catch it in the stomach and drive forward. I put the pedal to the metal, the engine roaring back at Nemesis as it lunged for us inside of the truck. "Ew, ew, ew, ew-!" I shouted as it tried to grab hold of me, only to be abruptly cut off when we slammed into something.
The next thing I knew, it felt like I got kicked by a horse when the airbag triggered. The breath was knocked from my lungs, but overall, I felt okay. The temp hp ate the damage, and my Cannon, miraculously, managed to survive the crash too. It gave a grinding warble before popping some sparks, looking like it was on its very last set of legs. Literally, since all but two legs were completely busted.
More importantly, Nemesis looked out of it. It was slumped over the hood of the car, its hands half in the truck. I swallowed thickly before I opened the door, hearing the moaning and groaning of Chris and Marvin. "This sucks," I decided, half falling out of the car with my Eldritch Cannon tucked under my arm. I was completely out of spell slots. I needed to get my hands on more stick-on tattoos. My plan was in shambles. And as I looked around to see where we crashed, I saw that we had slammed Nemesis into a brick wall.
"Is it dead yet?" Marvin asked, leveling a gun at it while I switched my Cannon to gun mode.
Almost as if to respond, Nemesis let out a low growl before lifting its head up-
My Cannon shot it. Its face smashed inward before slumping forward. Didn't stop me from shooting it again. And again. And another time. Or five more times after that. Or setting it on fire. It was that last bit that had Chris pulling at my shoulder, "We got to go."
"It's not dead yet," I told him. I had no idea what kind of challenge rating this thing would have, but it had approximately three motherfuckin' shit loads of HP. I knew it wasn't dead simply because if it was, then I would have leveled up twice over. The thing was stupidly tough.
"I know, but the car is going to blow!" Chris warned me, dragging me away from pummeling the monster into non-existence. I really needed to rethink my build. When could I get Disintegrate? Or how about Power Word: Kill? God damn it, I should have been a Wizard. Chris pulled me back, and true to his word, the truck exploded when the gas caught on fire, enveloping Nemesis as it burned. And I would have gone right back to pummeling it, but Chris started shooting at something that wasn't the monster in front of us.
I looked over to see Chris had dropped a zombie. And worse, more were stumbling up the streets. The ones that we hadn't been able to stop in the stadium, I think.
I licked my lips, looking back at Nemesis to see it was being cooked away and pinned by the truck. Then at the undead stumbled our way and I felt a hole open in my stomach. We wouldn't be able to kill it here and now. Meaning that it would be coming back for us stronger and more dangerous and equipped to deal with what we could throw at it. That… that really wasn't good, I decided, having my Cannon latch onto my shoulder with the two legs it had left.
"The hospital," I decided mournfully, knowing that we missed this chance. "We need to go to the hospital."
"Then to the hospital we go," Chris decided, but Marvin cast him a look as we kept ahead of the undead that were slowly filling the streets.
"It kept saying Stars. And it was after you, Chris. Should we really be going to a hospital if all of that didn't kill it?" He asked, and that was a genuinely good question. It was a cruel one based on how Chris grimaced, running ahead of the three of us. He was by far in the best shape. I was already starting to feel a pinch in my side, and it wasn't the side that got tentacled.
"If it follows, then I'll lead it away. Your priority is the civilians, got that?"
"Got it," I told him… but, I was an idiot. I knew the words were a lie as soon as I said them.
…
Unsurprisingly, the general hospital was kind of completely screwed. Not in a 'the dead are pouring out of the hospital' kind of screwed, but more in a 'completely overwhelmed with infected and injured that would soon be turning into the zombies that would be pouring out of the hospital' kind. We entered and the waiting lobby was completely filled with people that were sporting bite wounds and scratches.
It was a tough pill to swallow realizing that I was surrounded by dead people waiting, but I ignored them. Instead, I raised a gun in the air and popped a few shots towards the entrance to make sure I didn't shoot someone above us, making everyone panic. "RCPD! Everyone that was bitten or scratched by some crazy person trying to take a bite out of you, please go to that wall. Everyone with lamer and more mundane illness, please go to that wall."
Dying or not, they were smart enough to do what the man with a gun said. Even if my approach did get some stink eye from Marvin. The infected gathered on one side of the lobby while Chris quickly usurped control over the situation. "We're making arrangements for treatment for all of you, but please remain seated."
While he was doing that, I was moving on. I didn't even need my map. Keen Mind allowed me to recall the layout to the hospital perfectly, and as I entered it properly, I saw the medical staff was absolutely swamped with patients and the ER was practically overrun already. A veritable army of nurses ran between patients with bandages and stitches, injured people screaming. They hadn't even heard the gunshots.
They were utterly screwed, but before we made a scene, we needed to get the kids and the shit factories out. And, more importantly, kill who they had in an isolated ward while they were harmless. I found my way to the babies, who were still slumbering through everything. Making one of those hammock swaddling things, I started loading them up after squeezing a bit of cotton in their ears.
"Ear muffs?" Marvin asked me, as I began to make a vest of babies.
"Tenitus is a lifelong disease that doesn't have a cure," I reminded him, protecting the shit factories ears. "We should all be wearing ear protection right now." I ended up taking three babies and Marvin took another two. And… "You know, for someone that got tossed into the deep end with all of this, you're not doing bad."
"I'm in shock right now," Marvin admitted, pinning me with a sharp look as I adjusted to my new baby weight. God, what a couple of absolutely useless potatoes. "I'm going to have a lot questions for you when we have a minute to ask them," he warned me. It sounded like I needed to delegate that to Chris or Jill. Or generally anyone that wasn't me.
"Well, so long as you wait a little longer," I remarked, leaving the baby incubation room. Or the viewing room. I had no idea what to call it. Whatever it was, the security was pretty lax because we were literally just walking away with a bunch of noise makers. Was it the cop uniform? I needed to steal one of those.
As we left the baby room, I headed to the kid ward and a familiar voice cackled over the intercom. "This is Chris Redfield, RCPD. To any available nurses and doctors, please know that a quarantine is in immediate effect. After the initial wounds sustained from any bite or scratch marks, the patient is to be immediately quarantined." That was one way to do it, I decided, entering the kid's ward.
A kid was laying back in a bed, looking skinny and sickly. He was missing his hair, and the sunken in eyes… chemo, I quickly deduced. "Hey, kid, get out of bed or you're going to die," I told him. He seemed in his mid teens, fifteen or so, but he seemed a little older on account of that whole 'dying' thing. He blinked at me while Marvin shot me a look as he started gathering up the other kids. He even got a nurse helping him.
"I think I'm going to die anyway, so might as well die comfortably," he shot back at me. What was with kids these days? Were they physically incapable of being snarky shits?
"Getting ripped to pieces isn't what I would call comfortable. Come on, up, up, up," I said, approaching him. A quick look at his chart told me that his name was David.
"Get lost, soccer mom," he quickly flipped me off and dug his heels in. "I'm dying no matter what. If that cannibal disease doesn't get me then the leukemia will. So, how about you get fucked?"
Seriously, what was wrong with kids these days? "Okay, there's been a fundamental misunderstanding here -- I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for me. You've been rescued. Bask in it. Savor it. However… if you have the fucking audacity to die after I rescued you," I jabbed a finger in his face and narrowed my eyes, "I will beat the shit out of you. Got it?"
David's jaw dropped. He was probably used to people pitying him or something. Oh no, poor David and his mortality. He's dying too soon. He never had a childhood. Sucks to suck, loser.
As if to confirm my suspicions, he openly gaped at me. "Dude. I have leukemia."
"You're about to have a broken nose," I rebuked, and the shock wore off and he seemed more affronted than anything. He lifted his chin defiantly, fire burning in his eyes.
"You? Kick my ass? Not in this life, soccer mom," he spat at me. The door opened to the ward, and I saw Chris entering. Perfect timing.
"Fine. Then I'll get him to kick your ass. Look at him. That's a man that can punch out a boulder and I'm sure he even knows what a touchdown is," I said, gesturing to Chris, and he looked like he desperately wanted to know what he just walked into. He gave me a pointed look, and David just rolled his eyes. Then he noticed something that was sitting on my shoulder.
"Is… that a robot?" David blurted, looking at my cannon. "That's so cool! What's it called?" He asked me, the sullenness all but forgotten.
I gave it a moment of thought. "Dakka," I decided, before glancing at Chris. "Get this punk out of bed. We have one more errand to run here. There's a doctor here with a sci-fi door, and I just know he has connections to Umbrella," I told him, catching his full attention.
"Right. I've scrounged up some nurses and doctors to take with us," Chris informed, and that was a relief. "Spun some yarn about setting up an emergency hospital at the central station. All non-infected will be directed there. Figured it would be a stop gap until we can get some official forces here to have a proper evacuation." Having Chris around certainly threw a wrench in my plans, but I couldn't say it wasn't reassuring that he was here. It was good to have someone on the level taking command of the situation.
I nodded, figuring that was the best that we could do. Marvin and the nurse he snagged went about helping David, which left me and Chris to go to the sifi door. All the while, Chris told me the plan. "There's a substation nearby, so we hop on it. Ride to central station. Fortify there and link up with Jill. Then we can get the ball rolling."
"Makes sense to me," I decided, seeing the sifi door. Reaching into my pocket, I held up a paperclip to speaker, the imbued property I put into the paperclip came into effect. 'Get away from me, you lunatic!' The words from Dr. Bard said to me echoed out of the paperclip.
"Welcome, Dr. Bard," the door greeted me before the door unlocked itself. Chris looked impressed as I swung the doors open.
"Nanomachines?" He ventured and I swallowed a smirk.
"Nanomachines," I agreed, stepping into the private office/ laboratory of Dr. Bard. It was organized chaos, which was probably the best way to call it. Reaching out with a hand, I grabbed a plastic bag. Magic flowed into the plastic bag, turning it into a bag of holding. Infusions were great in a pinch like this -- I just had to slap a magical blueprint on something that fit the criteria. The loss of some ammo certainly sucked, but it was worth it if it got us away from Nemesis. Raccoon City was in a red state, so there would be plenty of ammo to find.
My gaze went to the computer and the papers that were strewn around it while Chris was inspecting everything else, loading up bottles of medicine and ingredients. There was even a red herb! Been looking for those things everywhere. The computer itself was old school, but in todays terms, it was cutting edge -- it was a box monitor and the actual PC was a tower. Unplugging it, I started shoving it into the bag of holding, knowing something of interest would be on it.
Then I continued onward to the back room. In the closet, I saw exactly what I thought I would.
The vaccine.
It was a dark purple liquid located in a syringe that was, in turn, located in a secure case. Tossing that into the bag of holding, a breath that I had been holding eased its way out of me. With this little guy, we could reverse-engineer the vaccine. I might even be able to do it. I had proficiency in medicine, but that didn't necessarily mean I could reverse engineer a vaccine. Especially considering that I knew fuck and all about virology.
"Get everything we need?" Chris asked me from the main room.
Not even close. I was painfully aware of the Nest that was under our feet. There, we could produce more of the vaccine. And there was that giant rail gun that managed to kill Nemesis. I really wanted to strap that onto Dakka, especially with our brief run in. But, just when I was considering the pros and cons, one of the babies in my tactical vest started to fuss. So, I took out my keys and started dangling them in front of his face.
"Yeah, I think so," I answered. I thought I would find Dr. Bard here… but oh well. That guy was a dick and I wasn't going to waste my time looking for him. Not when time just became infinitely more precious. We could always swing back for Alice too.
It would just take some time.
…
It was downright surreal riding the train back. We ended up leaving a skeleton crew back at the hospital, taking a good third of the nurses and doctors that took what they thought they would need to set up a makeshift hospital. People were still riding the trains, completely oblivious to what was happening in the city.
We got a lot of odd looks from various people who got on and off the train. However, those odd looks were quickly directed outward when we arrived at central station and were greeted with a barricade. Those orange and white barricades were set up with more fencing around it, all funneling into a single entrance that was being guarded by police.
"Chris! Rude!" Jill shouted, seeing us on the other side, and there was relief evident in her tone. She waved us through while the other cops began patting people down, checking for bites. Most people in the city still had absolutely no idea what was going on, so there was a lot of friction but that was mostly quelled by how serious the situation was. You could feel it in the air thanks to what seemed like a refugee camp set up in the station with cots set up for people to lay down on.
"Jill," Chris greeted her in return.
"You two look terrible," Jill observed, her eyes flickering to the wound on my shoulder and side, then on Dakka, who was reaching the end of her hour of life. Which left me without her since I had to use a spell slot to resummon her.
"I feel worse," I agreed, looking around the place. "Everything going smoothly here?" I asked her, and thankfully, I earned a nod in response. At least one of us was having as good day.
"I've managed to convince Raymond to take this seriously, but most of the RCPD are trying to contain the dead that just spilled out onto the streets. I've tapped into the radios and… it's not good," Jill admitted.
I nodded, taking a deep breath. It had finally begun. The start of the apocalypse was here. Nemesis was on the prowl, but we had the vaccine. The situation was a disaster, but we were on damage control. Things were… going about as well as I expected, in all honesty. However, taking in that breath revealed something.
"Someone shit their pants," I informed, looking down at my tactical vest of infants. "And I'm not entirely sure it wasn't me."
...
This is the last of the weekly chapters as the backlog on patreon has run out. So, we'll be on the bi-weekly schedule as intended going forward.
Also, I played an Artillerist for about three years in a campaign and we completely missed that little class feature of not needing material components. We always played it as if they were the materials used in an invention/spell. So, it's a case of failed reading comprehension that I never bothered to think any deeper about until it got pointed out to me. For the sake of the story, however, I'm going with what amounts to my homebrew in regards to spell components because I already planned around it. Sorry about that.
The next chapter is currently available on my Patreon and Subscribe Star, so if you want to read it a week early, all it takes is a single dollar in the tip jar. Or, for five dollars, you can read the chapter after that two weeks before its public release! I hope you enjoyed!
But, now that I think about it, it probably would have looked a lot like this.
"Oh shi- worry about that, Chris! Definitely worry about that!" I courageously yelled at the large man standing between me and the much larger monster.
"I'm worried!" Chris shot back, dropping to a knee and opening fire on the creature. The bullets from his assault rifle seemed to bounce off of its thick hide, and it hardly noticed as it strode through the gunfire. I made a snap decision, wheeling my Eldritch Cannon around and sending it up to Nemesis while I continued to fire at the undead. I had leveled up again, just before Chris arrived. The zombies were 50xp apiece, and there were a lot of them. I was tearing through the early levels like they were nothing.
The difference between level 3 and level 4 was 1,800xp. Which was thirty-six zombies, and I had killed a lot more than that standing here.
And I, foolishly, chose the Keen Mind feat. Got a little boost in intelligence, but more importantly, I could recall everything I had seen or heard in the past month. In game mechanics, that was used for using the DM to tell you things you had forgotten, but in real life? After a huge blunder like this? I thought it was a stroke of brilliance. In reality, I'm becoming increasingly convinced that I was the biggest dumbass on the face of the planet, because my big brain wasn't going to do much to Nemesis.
My Eldritch Cannon did, though. The railgun on it bucked back, the projectile slamming into Nemesis' chest with enough force to knock him back a solid five feet, his chest caving inward ever so slightly. However, the creature was hardly daunted. Chris was impressed, though, so there was that. "That thing packs a punch!"
"We have to move!" Marvin shouted out, the dead incoming. We could barely hold them off between the four of us, but with my Cannon and Chris dealing with Nemesis, they were quickly swarming us. The night air was filled with the sounds of moaning and groaning, so many of them that the gunshots almost seemed quiet in comparison. The zombies carried the scent of blood and shit, and with so many, I could practically taste both on my tongue.
Marvin was right. "The truck! Get in the truck!" I decided, abandoning my position as I grabbed the bag of holding while squeezing a few shots. And I really wish it was that easy, but Nemesis wasn't content to leave us be. Disgusting fleshy tendrils emerged from the monster's back, lashing out at Chris, who dove underneath it to roll to his feet. I squeezed a shot off at a zombie that lunged for him from behind, killing it, but Chris' attention was solely on the Nemesis. The creature tried to take another step, but another blast from my Cannon caught it in the leg, driving it to a knee.
I switched modes, and it took a terribly long six seconds. The barrel on my Cannon was dyed with a red light -- I went with a good old fashioned RGB color scheme. Naturally, red was for fire. Flames belched out of the Cannon, splashing over Nemesis as he lashed out. I threw myself to the side, but it wasn't enough to save me from getting swiped by the tentacle. It felt like I got hit by a baseball bat from a professional league player, knocking me down the steps and sending me tumbling.
My arm was broken, I realized, coming to a stop with a muffled 'oof'. If not because of the throbbing pain, then because I'm pretty sure a bone was sticking out of my arm. Leveling up didn't restore my spell slots. After healing the kid, then healing myself after getting shot… I only had the one left. I wouldn't get more until I had a long rest, but I didn't see that happening any time soon.
"Rude!" Chris shouted, and I suddenly found myself picked up by him, him throwing one of my arms over his shoulders as he half dragged me to the car while he unloaded bullets into Nemesis. I was blinded by pain. I thought the adrenaline would help, but every step was nothing short of pure agony. Did he break some of my ribs too?
"We have to kill it!" I shouted at him, knowing that it was true. I was completely unprepared for it. I thought I would have at least enough time to get my Arcane Firearm -- the thing I was building my whole class around. "It's as weak as it's ever going to be, we need to kill it here. And now," I decided, making a snap decision. I heard Nemesis roaring behind us and I looked over just in time to shove Chris out of the way. In response, I felt a punch in my back and looking down at it-
"That's so fucking gross!" I exclaimed, more horrified than anything. My Cannon took another shot at Nemesis, making it roar in frustration and hopefully, a shit ton of pain as the offending tendril that was squirming in my gut was ripped out. I dropped to my knees, rolling down the rest of the stairs and coming to a stop at the bottom. Shit. Did I just get infected? That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all.
Wait, when Jill got infected, she started spasming and foaming from the mouth. I was just bleeding out with my insides trying to become outsides. Was I fine? Well, I wasn't fine but was I not infected?
Regardless, there wasn't any choice now. "Cure Wounds," I decided, using the last one on myself. Best spell choice I could have made, I decided. Though, it was rather icky feeling my bone slide itself back into place, mending, while my organs shifted back where they were supposed to be. And, almost as in punishment for it, Nemesis finally lashed out at my Cannon that was drawing its attention and gave it a swift kick. It flew through the air, bouncing off the truck and landing in a heap. Sparks flew off my creation, but with three legs remaining, it pushed itself up.
I really needed to name it. It had guts.
Pushing myself to my feet, I saw Chris and Marvin firing at Nemesis, who was slowly being surrounded by undead. They ignored the creature, it registering as dead to them with their stunted senses, even as it blazed with fire. It had taken a few hard knocks despite my panic. It was durable, but not invincible. We could kill it if we overwhelmed it. Better now when it was comparatively weak than when it was a massive sludge monster and we needed a rail gun.
I shot at Nemesis again, this time catching it in the head, but it still was standing. The flesh gave away, revealing hints of skull, but other than that, it was fine. And with a lone black eye it only had eyes for Chris despite everything that we were throwing its way. It lumbered forward, splattering the brains of a zombie with the back of its fist, and in a low grumbling voice that was more of a growl, it uttered, "Stars!"
"Get to the car!" I shouted at the two of them, the zombies closing in on them even as Nemesis did. Grabbing the bag of holding, I hurled it at Nemesis, cutting my connection to the bag just as it hit his chest. True to form, the leather became normal leather, bursting at the seams as heaps of ammo exploded out of it with enough force that Nemesis stumbled a step back. The fire that clung to his body, ignited the bullets as Marvin and Chris threw themselves down the stairs.
The bullets exploded, acting like an explosive with how many of them there were. They tore into Nemesis but all of us were rushing into the car. I slid into the driver's seat, looking at him. He still stood, the flames flickering around him in a cloud of smoke from entire boxes of bullets. The undead were swarming forward, stumbling or falling down the steps. There were hundreds of them. Thousands, even. And they stumbled past Nemesis, who seemed to glower at us through the smoke and the fire.
"I thought you were dead!" Chris exclaimed as I slammed a foot on the gas the moment Marvin was in the back, and we started speeding away just as the first undead hands slammed against the truck. My Cannon sat between us, occasionally sparking with a grinding sound. Chris glanced at it, worried that it would blow up. And there was, admittedly, a non-zero chance that it might. "How are you-"
"Nanomachines," I threw out an answer, not really wanting to get into it now. "The answer will always be nanomachines."
"What was that thing? What were those things?!" Marvin demanded, sounding panicked.
"Big. Angry. Pissed off at Chris," I threw out adjectives as my mind raced a thousand miles a second. As we raced down the street, I saw the panicked and terrified people fleeing, most of which looked like they escaped from the stadium. My stomach clenched when I saw blood. They were bitten. Should I… no… no, it was way, way, way too late to hope for a contained outbreak. I need to refocus. The outbreak had happened -- I could only guess how many people had been bit at the stadium but managed to escape. Not great.
Nemesis was here. Also not great.
The plan had to be adapted, but the bones of it were still good. "Get Jill on the phone, we need to get the central station up and running."
"And us?" Chris asked, looking in the rearview mirror for Nemesis.
"We need to go to the hospital. Kill the zombies that are there, save who we can, and loot a shit ton of medical supplies." I said, forcing myself to calm down as I laid on my horn when I encountered traffic, and the sidewalks were full of people fleeing. The doctors would be able to get a grip on the infection -- easily singling out those that were bitten or infected. More than that, though, was the vaccine. And, possibly, Alice?
It was better to get it now than later, I decided. Just in case I was infected. My poor sweater. And my poor insides.
Marvin seemed to have a revelation in the back seat. "You're that crazy guy everyone has been talking about?!" He blurted out, looking at me while I looked for an opportunity to swerve around the traffic while Chris got on the phone.
"I wish I was just crazy. Unfortunately, I'm something far worse. I'm right," I told him, seeing a break in it and I drove up on the sidewalk to go around the long line of traffic. Ah. There had been a car crash at the intersection, and a bad one from the looks of it. Marvin didn't have a response to that, and I took the opportunity to reach into my pocket and take out one of the stickers I had on hand. With the destruction of my bag of holding, I had opened up an infusion slot and it was going to the Spellwrought tattoo.
Wetting the tattoo with the blood that was still soaked into my sweater, I infused it to my skin. As I did, Chris looked over at me. "Jill's at the station with a handful of cops, trying to get everything in order but just about everyone is being called out to deal with the undead-" Chris started, only to be cut off abruptly as something landed directly in front of us. I slammed on my brakes, the truck screeching to a halt but we were going too fast and still slammed into Nemesis.
It was still on fire and took the hit like a champ, his feet digging into the ground as he caught the front bumper. "Oh, shit!" I helped, my eyes going wide and a second later, the tenderil erupted from Nemesis' back, lunging forward at Marvin and me. No sooner than they had busted through the front windshield, I threw up the Shield and the tendrils bounced off of it. Directly where my heart would be. My Eldritch Cannon leapt up onto the dashboard, bracing for a split second before firing a blast that knocked Nemesis back, and I heard the painful cracking of ribs.
Nemesis was knocked back, but the Shield blinked out of existence a second later while the stick-on tattoo burned up.
"Get us out of here!" Marvin exclaimed while I slammed the car into reverse a couple dozen feet before throwing up the emergency break.
"Hit him!" Chris shouted, a bump on his forehead from the impact. He kept one hand on the dash and took his time to buckle his seatbelt. Stomping on the gas, I burned the tires out while my Cannon made another shot, striking Nemesis again. It was knocked back a few feet, but it looked like it was learning to lean into the blows. Its skin was charred, its chest had holes and chunks ripped out, and it had a bad limp, but all the same, it was marching forward. And, to my horror, its gait was getting stronger.
As the truck lurched forward, my Cannon fired another shot, then another, and just before we connected, the barrel shifted to green. I felt myself growing stronger as temp hp was given to all three of us in anticipation for the crash. The very last shot knocked Nemesis off balance, opening a perfect opportunity to catch it in the stomach and drive forward. I put the pedal to the metal, the engine roaring back at Nemesis as it lunged for us inside of the truck. "Ew, ew, ew, ew-!" I shouted as it tried to grab hold of me, only to be abruptly cut off when we slammed into something.
The next thing I knew, it felt like I got kicked by a horse when the airbag triggered. The breath was knocked from my lungs, but overall, I felt okay. The temp hp ate the damage, and my Cannon, miraculously, managed to survive the crash too. It gave a grinding warble before popping some sparks, looking like it was on its very last set of legs. Literally, since all but two legs were completely busted.
More importantly, Nemesis looked out of it. It was slumped over the hood of the car, its hands half in the truck. I swallowed thickly before I opened the door, hearing the moaning and groaning of Chris and Marvin. "This sucks," I decided, half falling out of the car with my Eldritch Cannon tucked under my arm. I was completely out of spell slots. I needed to get my hands on more stick-on tattoos. My plan was in shambles. And as I looked around to see where we crashed, I saw that we had slammed Nemesis into a brick wall.
"Is it dead yet?" Marvin asked, leveling a gun at it while I switched my Cannon to gun mode.
Almost as if to respond, Nemesis let out a low growl before lifting its head up-
My Cannon shot it. Its face smashed inward before slumping forward. Didn't stop me from shooting it again. And again. And another time. Or five more times after that. Or setting it on fire. It was that last bit that had Chris pulling at my shoulder, "We got to go."
"It's not dead yet," I told him. I had no idea what kind of challenge rating this thing would have, but it had approximately three motherfuckin' shit loads of HP. I knew it wasn't dead simply because if it was, then I would have leveled up twice over. The thing was stupidly tough.
"I know, but the car is going to blow!" Chris warned me, dragging me away from pummeling the monster into non-existence. I really needed to rethink my build. When could I get Disintegrate? Or how about Power Word: Kill? God damn it, I should have been a Wizard. Chris pulled me back, and true to his word, the truck exploded when the gas caught on fire, enveloping Nemesis as it burned. And I would have gone right back to pummeling it, but Chris started shooting at something that wasn't the monster in front of us.
I looked over to see Chris had dropped a zombie. And worse, more were stumbling up the streets. The ones that we hadn't been able to stop in the stadium, I think.
I licked my lips, looking back at Nemesis to see it was being cooked away and pinned by the truck. Then at the undead stumbled our way and I felt a hole open in my stomach. We wouldn't be able to kill it here and now. Meaning that it would be coming back for us stronger and more dangerous and equipped to deal with what we could throw at it. That… that really wasn't good, I decided, having my Cannon latch onto my shoulder with the two legs it had left.
"The hospital," I decided mournfully, knowing that we missed this chance. "We need to go to the hospital."
"Then to the hospital we go," Chris decided, but Marvin cast him a look as we kept ahead of the undead that were slowly filling the streets.
"It kept saying Stars. And it was after you, Chris. Should we really be going to a hospital if all of that didn't kill it?" He asked, and that was a genuinely good question. It was a cruel one based on how Chris grimaced, running ahead of the three of us. He was by far in the best shape. I was already starting to feel a pinch in my side, and it wasn't the side that got tentacled.
"If it follows, then I'll lead it away. Your priority is the civilians, got that?"
"Got it," I told him… but, I was an idiot. I knew the words were a lie as soon as I said them.
…
Unsurprisingly, the general hospital was kind of completely screwed. Not in a 'the dead are pouring out of the hospital' kind of screwed, but more in a 'completely overwhelmed with infected and injured that would soon be turning into the zombies that would be pouring out of the hospital' kind. We entered and the waiting lobby was completely filled with people that were sporting bite wounds and scratches.
It was a tough pill to swallow realizing that I was surrounded by dead people waiting, but I ignored them. Instead, I raised a gun in the air and popped a few shots towards the entrance to make sure I didn't shoot someone above us, making everyone panic. "RCPD! Everyone that was bitten or scratched by some crazy person trying to take a bite out of you, please go to that wall. Everyone with lamer and more mundane illness, please go to that wall."
Dying or not, they were smart enough to do what the man with a gun said. Even if my approach did get some stink eye from Marvin. The infected gathered on one side of the lobby while Chris quickly usurped control over the situation. "We're making arrangements for treatment for all of you, but please remain seated."
While he was doing that, I was moving on. I didn't even need my map. Keen Mind allowed me to recall the layout to the hospital perfectly, and as I entered it properly, I saw the medical staff was absolutely swamped with patients and the ER was practically overrun already. A veritable army of nurses ran between patients with bandages and stitches, injured people screaming. They hadn't even heard the gunshots.
They were utterly screwed, but before we made a scene, we needed to get the kids and the shit factories out. And, more importantly, kill who they had in an isolated ward while they were harmless. I found my way to the babies, who were still slumbering through everything. Making one of those hammock swaddling things, I started loading them up after squeezing a bit of cotton in their ears.
"Ear muffs?" Marvin asked me, as I began to make a vest of babies.
"Tenitus is a lifelong disease that doesn't have a cure," I reminded him, protecting the shit factories ears. "We should all be wearing ear protection right now." I ended up taking three babies and Marvin took another two. And… "You know, for someone that got tossed into the deep end with all of this, you're not doing bad."
"I'm in shock right now," Marvin admitted, pinning me with a sharp look as I adjusted to my new baby weight. God, what a couple of absolutely useless potatoes. "I'm going to have a lot questions for you when we have a minute to ask them," he warned me. It sounded like I needed to delegate that to Chris or Jill. Or generally anyone that wasn't me.
"Well, so long as you wait a little longer," I remarked, leaving the baby incubation room. Or the viewing room. I had no idea what to call it. Whatever it was, the security was pretty lax because we were literally just walking away with a bunch of noise makers. Was it the cop uniform? I needed to steal one of those.
As we left the baby room, I headed to the kid ward and a familiar voice cackled over the intercom. "This is Chris Redfield, RCPD. To any available nurses and doctors, please know that a quarantine is in immediate effect. After the initial wounds sustained from any bite or scratch marks, the patient is to be immediately quarantined." That was one way to do it, I decided, entering the kid's ward.
A kid was laying back in a bed, looking skinny and sickly. He was missing his hair, and the sunken in eyes… chemo, I quickly deduced. "Hey, kid, get out of bed or you're going to die," I told him. He seemed in his mid teens, fifteen or so, but he seemed a little older on account of that whole 'dying' thing. He blinked at me while Marvin shot me a look as he started gathering up the other kids. He even got a nurse helping him.
"I think I'm going to die anyway, so might as well die comfortably," he shot back at me. What was with kids these days? Were they physically incapable of being snarky shits?
"Getting ripped to pieces isn't what I would call comfortable. Come on, up, up, up," I said, approaching him. A quick look at his chart told me that his name was David.
"Get lost, soccer mom," he quickly flipped me off and dug his heels in. "I'm dying no matter what. If that cannibal disease doesn't get me then the leukemia will. So, how about you get fucked?"
Seriously, what was wrong with kids these days? "Okay, there's been a fundamental misunderstanding here -- I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for me. You've been rescued. Bask in it. Savor it. However… if you have the fucking audacity to die after I rescued you," I jabbed a finger in his face and narrowed my eyes, "I will beat the shit out of you. Got it?"
David's jaw dropped. He was probably used to people pitying him or something. Oh no, poor David and his mortality. He's dying too soon. He never had a childhood. Sucks to suck, loser.
As if to confirm my suspicions, he openly gaped at me. "Dude. I have leukemia."
"You're about to have a broken nose," I rebuked, and the shock wore off and he seemed more affronted than anything. He lifted his chin defiantly, fire burning in his eyes.
"You? Kick my ass? Not in this life, soccer mom," he spat at me. The door opened to the ward, and I saw Chris entering. Perfect timing.
"Fine. Then I'll get him to kick your ass. Look at him. That's a man that can punch out a boulder and I'm sure he even knows what a touchdown is," I said, gesturing to Chris, and he looked like he desperately wanted to know what he just walked into. He gave me a pointed look, and David just rolled his eyes. Then he noticed something that was sitting on my shoulder.
"Is… that a robot?" David blurted, looking at my cannon. "That's so cool! What's it called?" He asked me, the sullenness all but forgotten.
I gave it a moment of thought. "Dakka," I decided, before glancing at Chris. "Get this punk out of bed. We have one more errand to run here. There's a doctor here with a sci-fi door, and I just know he has connections to Umbrella," I told him, catching his full attention.
"Right. I've scrounged up some nurses and doctors to take with us," Chris informed, and that was a relief. "Spun some yarn about setting up an emergency hospital at the central station. All non-infected will be directed there. Figured it would be a stop gap until we can get some official forces here to have a proper evacuation." Having Chris around certainly threw a wrench in my plans, but I couldn't say it wasn't reassuring that he was here. It was good to have someone on the level taking command of the situation.
I nodded, figuring that was the best that we could do. Marvin and the nurse he snagged went about helping David, which left me and Chris to go to the sifi door. All the while, Chris told me the plan. "There's a substation nearby, so we hop on it. Ride to central station. Fortify there and link up with Jill. Then we can get the ball rolling."
"Makes sense to me," I decided, seeing the sifi door. Reaching into my pocket, I held up a paperclip to speaker, the imbued property I put into the paperclip came into effect. 'Get away from me, you lunatic!' The words from Dr. Bard said to me echoed out of the paperclip.
"Welcome, Dr. Bard," the door greeted me before the door unlocked itself. Chris looked impressed as I swung the doors open.
"Nanomachines?" He ventured and I swallowed a smirk.
"Nanomachines," I agreed, stepping into the private office/ laboratory of Dr. Bard. It was organized chaos, which was probably the best way to call it. Reaching out with a hand, I grabbed a plastic bag. Magic flowed into the plastic bag, turning it into a bag of holding. Infusions were great in a pinch like this -- I just had to slap a magical blueprint on something that fit the criteria. The loss of some ammo certainly sucked, but it was worth it if it got us away from Nemesis. Raccoon City was in a red state, so there would be plenty of ammo to find.
My gaze went to the computer and the papers that were strewn around it while Chris was inspecting everything else, loading up bottles of medicine and ingredients. There was even a red herb! Been looking for those things everywhere. The computer itself was old school, but in todays terms, it was cutting edge -- it was a box monitor and the actual PC was a tower. Unplugging it, I started shoving it into the bag of holding, knowing something of interest would be on it.
Then I continued onward to the back room. In the closet, I saw exactly what I thought I would.
The vaccine.
It was a dark purple liquid located in a syringe that was, in turn, located in a secure case. Tossing that into the bag of holding, a breath that I had been holding eased its way out of me. With this little guy, we could reverse-engineer the vaccine. I might even be able to do it. I had proficiency in medicine, but that didn't necessarily mean I could reverse engineer a vaccine. Especially considering that I knew fuck and all about virology.
"Get everything we need?" Chris asked me from the main room.
Not even close. I was painfully aware of the Nest that was under our feet. There, we could produce more of the vaccine. And there was that giant rail gun that managed to kill Nemesis. I really wanted to strap that onto Dakka, especially with our brief run in. But, just when I was considering the pros and cons, one of the babies in my tactical vest started to fuss. So, I took out my keys and started dangling them in front of his face.
"Yeah, I think so," I answered. I thought I would find Dr. Bard here… but oh well. That guy was a dick and I wasn't going to waste my time looking for him. Not when time just became infinitely more precious. We could always swing back for Alice too.
It would just take some time.
…
It was downright surreal riding the train back. We ended up leaving a skeleton crew back at the hospital, taking a good third of the nurses and doctors that took what they thought they would need to set up a makeshift hospital. People were still riding the trains, completely oblivious to what was happening in the city.
We got a lot of odd looks from various people who got on and off the train. However, those odd looks were quickly directed outward when we arrived at central station and were greeted with a barricade. Those orange and white barricades were set up with more fencing around it, all funneling into a single entrance that was being guarded by police.
"Chris! Rude!" Jill shouted, seeing us on the other side, and there was relief evident in her tone. She waved us through while the other cops began patting people down, checking for bites. Most people in the city still had absolutely no idea what was going on, so there was a lot of friction but that was mostly quelled by how serious the situation was. You could feel it in the air thanks to what seemed like a refugee camp set up in the station with cots set up for people to lay down on.
"Jill," Chris greeted her in return.
"You two look terrible," Jill observed, her eyes flickering to the wound on my shoulder and side, then on Dakka, who was reaching the end of her hour of life. Which left me without her since I had to use a spell slot to resummon her.
"I feel worse," I agreed, looking around the place. "Everything going smoothly here?" I asked her, and thankfully, I earned a nod in response. At least one of us was having as good day.
"I've managed to convince Raymond to take this seriously, but most of the RCPD are trying to contain the dead that just spilled out onto the streets. I've tapped into the radios and… it's not good," Jill admitted.
I nodded, taking a deep breath. It had finally begun. The start of the apocalypse was here. Nemesis was on the prowl, but we had the vaccine. The situation was a disaster, but we were on damage control. Things were… going about as well as I expected, in all honesty. However, taking in that breath revealed something.
"Someone shit their pants," I informed, looking down at my tactical vest of infants. "And I'm not entirely sure it wasn't me."
...
This is the last of the weekly chapters as the backlog on patreon has run out. So, we'll be on the bi-weekly schedule as intended going forward.
Also, I played an Artillerist for about three years in a campaign and we completely missed that little class feature of not needing material components. We always played it as if they were the materials used in an invention/spell. So, it's a case of failed reading comprehension that I never bothered to think any deeper about until it got pointed out to me. For the sake of the story, however, I'm going with what amounts to my homebrew in regards to spell components because I already planned around it. Sorry about that.
The next chapter is currently available on my Patreon and Subscribe Star, so if you want to read it a week early, all it takes is a single dollar in the tip jar. Or, for five dollars, you can read the chapter after that two weeks before its public release! I hope you enjoyed!
- Location
- England
It's spelled 'Tinnitus' (although I had to check. I keep getting it wrong in various ways). Also, you're probably more at risk from all the gun shots that have been going on in your immediate vicinity.
Arimai
Curmudgeon
Tinnitus. Also a false statement; a First Circle (level 1) cure spell, much less regeneration would erase it immediately. The spell works off of your soul blueprint not your body.
I laughed hard at this. Reminds me of those idiots that taunted Andre and ran like pissants when he finally reacted when they threw bottles at him. Long story short they got their car flipped and the policeman decided to arrest them to avoid having to arrest Andre the Giant. 😄
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MaimakteriAnn
(Verified Sleepy)
- Location
- Enormous And Round Terran Homeworld
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Dr
Why are you looking for spell components? You're an Artificer man. You can replace material components with any toolkit from level 1. It isn't even used up. Get your dumb ass a Leatherman out of one of those shoplifting sprees and this is solved. Only 13 Artificer spells can't use any toolkit instead of materials.
Two of those are booming blade and green flame blade, which your axe counts for anyway. Identify, solved already when you robbed the jeweller, also ... A lot. Only glyph of warding, leomund's secret chest, almost certainly create spelljamming helm, and possibly summon construct (depends on if the jeweller had a jewellery box that counts in stock) aren't solved with things you already have.
Create spelljamming helm is an interesting endgame actually. Gtfo with everyone you can save before the nuke gets dropped.
If you can change the spell in the tattoo infusion, find familiar for at least rude, Chris and Jill would be a plan. Advise them to take expeditious messengers, and all three would be serious Intel assets.
Seriously. Immune to exhaustion, dark vis, share senses range unlimited, no aoo, 60ft fly. Fly around and inspect zombie movements, scout buildings by looking in the windows safely no matter how many floors.
EDUT: holy shit, give one to David and get him feeling useful and important. And also cover more area with scouts.
Two of those are booming blade and green flame blade, which your axe counts for anyway. Identify, solved already when you robbed the jeweller, also ... A lot. Only glyph of warding, leomund's secret chest, almost certainly create spelljamming helm, and possibly summon construct (depends on if the jeweller had a jewellery box that counts in stock) aren't solved with things you already have.
Create spelljamming helm is an interesting endgame actually. Gtfo with everyone you can save before the nuke gets dropped.
If you can change the spell in the tattoo infusion, find familiar for at least rude, Chris and Jill would be a plan. Advise them to take expeditious messengers, and all three would be serious Intel assets.
Seriously. Immune to exhaustion, dark vis, share senses range unlimited, no aoo, 60ft fly. Fly around and inspect zombie movements, scout buildings by looking in the windows safely no matter how many floors.
EDUT: holy shit, give one to David and get him feeling useful and important. And also cover more area with scouts.
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Lycanthromancer
The Arcane Fuzz
- Location
- USA
Did using the haversack as a bomb destroy all of the spell component gems from the jewelry store heist?
That might be...problematic.
That might be...problematic.
MaimakteriAnn
(Verified Sleepy)
- Location
- Enormous And Round Terran Homeworld
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Dr
Nah.
Chris had the bag of holding for the ammo run, so it's all good on that front at least.
Not to say the jewel bag didn't get left in the car when they abandoned it though.
EDUT: also (part 5) - rude should probably switch a cantrip to a melee option if he wants to go arcane firearm, and get a shield to mount the small versions of his turrets to since the firearm doesn't need to be 2 handed. Firebolt will attract disadvantage of you try to hit with it when any enemy is in 5ft.
Either something that forces a save (acid splash for area options, lightning lure for control, sword burst to double down on area at the cost of range options, thorn whip to be like lightning lure but better, poison spray to feel regret) do that range penalty doesn't hit, or an actual dedicated melee spell (shocking grasp, sadly booming blade and green flame blade don't work with arcane firearm, since you cast them using the weapon component not whatever focus is your firearm)
Given its casting time and the access to modern tools for the same purpose, I'd ditch mending in this case.
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Arimai
Curmudgeon
@Ideas-Guy above. As to using the Bag of Holding as a bomb. Would that not open a short portal to the Outside? Nemesis should've been swallowed by it along with everything within a 30ft radius
MaimakteriAnn
(Verified Sleepy)
- Location
- Enormous And Round Terran Homeworld
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Dr
They didn't put a second bag in it. They cooked off all the ammo they were storing in it, destroying the bag and dumping its contents (an explosion and some shrapnel) into an adjacent space. Though that is only supposed to happen if you turn it inside out, the contents should be randomly dumped into the astral.
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Lycanthromancer
The Arcane Fuzz
- Location
- USA
A bag of devouring would be useful right about now...
- Location
- U.S.
create cursed item that makes user unable to deal damage, equip it to nemesis
Unless they are still very close to the statium, it would be weird for those zombies to already be there. They should be a bunch slower than Nemesis and a car both, so even with a bit of headstart, they wouldn't have gotten that far in comparison.
As for Nemesis, even if he didn't die, his brain should've gotten repeatedly gotten concussed and cooked enough that he'll have trouble remembering anything at all. Regenerating muscle and bone is one thing, those just require you to restore the general shape. But once a certain pattern of neural connections is broken, there's no way of just restoring it.
Then again, RE monsters are quite blatantly supernatural in their own way, so who knows.