43. Locke #2
“On her way to get herself killed trying to save you,” Cipher admits almost reluctantly.
“You didn’t try to stop her?”
“I cannot.”
I chuckle. “You’re learning then.”
Cipher scoffs. “Look appealing, Bone Breaker. Give her an attitude. The current Rat Queen really likes breaking her harem.”
My hands clench into fists as I prepare myself. We’ve run out of time. I hadn’t been able to ask if Steve and Svetlana are with Vesper. Only a few seconds later, I realize I’m shaking. I brace myself better against the bars, so it isn’t noticeable.
“Her familiar is with her. Steve is within the sewers, planning to light her way once she makes it inside.”
Good. She’s not alone.
When the Rat Queen appears, the bile in my stomach churns.
If the rat guards are hideous, the Rat Queen is particularly repulsive.
She’s dressed in a large dress that appears to be made out of trash.
Black plastic is woven together to form a bodice and skirt, dragging against the ground as she moves with slow precision.
It makes a strange rustling sound as she moves, further made unappealing by the glittering sound of aluminum pieces rattling together as they drag behind her.
Her hands are dagger sharp claws tipping furred fingers that she clasps in front of her.
Her snout is long and pointed, her nose missing a chunk out of it to reveal the pink beneath.
Her large beady eyes trace over the cages to the left of us, large whiskers cut in various lengths like she’d lost some of them to a fight.
Her fur isn’t as mangled as the others, but it’s still patchy, and in the areas it’s patchy, she’s covered in scabs, as if she’d been scratching at the skin there.
At least Mother Remainder had been human.
At least she’d been clean and unblemished.
“This is all you could find?” she asks the nearest guard.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard answers, bowing his head. “The speakeasies were attended by Havoc and he managed to get out a few of the players we had our eyes on.”
I swallow thickly, realizing that must be how Vesper avoided this place. Thank the Harrow she isn’t here right now. I don’t want her to see what I’ll be forced to do.
The queen strolls along the cage to our right, looking over the players. All of them put their heads down, avoiding her eyes. When she trails in front of our cage, I tilt my chin up, staring her down.
She stops as soon as she catches my eyes and a slow smile starts to curl her lips. “Did you not hear the instructions, player?”
“I heard ’em,” I answer, glad my voice isn’t shaking like my hands. “I just don’t care.”
She chuckles, her eyes trailing down my chest. “What is your Glitch?”
I flex my muscles along my shoulders and she eagerly steps forward. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“A Bone Breaker!” she moans. “I do so love your kind. Tell me, player. How do you feel about being caged?”
I bare my teeth at her. “Positively ecstatic about it. Can’t you tell?”
She claps her claws together and leans in. She runs her tongue along her teeth and grins. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy you, Bone Breaker,” she purrs. To the guards, she says, “This one. See that he’s collared and changed.”
And then she sweeps out of the room, not bothering to look at any of the other prisoners.
“Well done, Locke,” Cipher goads. “I hope you’re prepared for what’s to come.”
“Just tell me she’s close,” I say as the guards open my cage and grab at me.
Cipher sighs. “The sewers of New Babel are a maze that even I do not know fully.”
“Fuck,” I grunt, the bile so thick in my throat, it comes up. The guards hiss as they drag me from the cage, but don’t bother stopping to let me puke. They just drag me away and I get one last sympathetic look from the other Bone Breaker before I’m taken from the room entirely.
After I finish emptying the contents of my stomach, I get the bright idea to fight. I’m a Bone Breaker. I’m strong, but I quickly realize the giggle water drinks I’d had have taken a toll on me. I check my stats and panic at the realization of how fucked I am.
TIER 2 - CARTILAGE CRANK
Wastrel, peak
STRENGTH: 7
AGILITY: 12
VITALITY: 12
WILLPOWER: 11
CHARISMA: 8
LUCK: 6
FRACTURE POINTS: GAIN +5% DAMAGE AND +2% DAMAGE RESISTANCE
CORRUPTION: 15%
CURRENT BUFFS AND DEBUFFS:
+2 to strength while holding the Arctic Smite
-8 to strength while under the effects of giggle water.
-4 to luck while under the effects of giggle water. Time remaining: 2 hours and 3 minutes.
I’ll just have to wait two more hours, and then I can attack and escape this place.
My clothing is dragged from me roughly, and no matter how hard I fight, it does little good.
I’m too weak. The buff from the giggle water makes me so weak, I might as well be a Breather.
Once I’m naked, I’m splashed with ice cold water and scrubbed with a brush.
I snarl at the rats jerking me around, but they don’t even reward me with a scoff.
They just do their job. Once I’m clean and dry, they toss a scrap of metal toward me.
I catch it and stare at the bits of metal and cloth in my hand.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” I snarl.
“Put it on,” the nearest guard commands.
I stare at it again, suddenly confused. “Put it on? How am I supposed to do that? There’s not enough material here for clothing.”
The guard grabs it and holds it up the right way, and I suddenly see exactly what it is.
Or rather, what it isn’t. Clothing is too generous of a word.
The thing is a glorified loincloth, with a pocket for my cock and balls and not much else.
In fact, the rest of the thing is just little chains and a bit of cloth that hangs down in the front. I’ll be completely out, ass and all.
“I’m not putting this thing on,” I growl, shoving it at the guard.
“You’ll put it on, or I will,” he says, deadpan. “Your choice.”
I curl up my lip at him and snatch it back. He’s the guard with the open sores and I don’t want him touching me. Who knows what kind of disease he’s carrying. Who knows if can catch it?
It takes me a few tries to get the thong up around my legs and settled in place. I stand there, my arms crossed, really fucking annoyed as the rat guard makes sure everything is where it’s supposed to be.
I’m grabbed again once they decide I’m satisfying to look at and am dragged through dark grimy tunnels.
They don’t let my feet touch the ground this time, making sure I’m as clean as possible when we enter what I can only describe as a throne room.
It’s the cleanest thing I’ve seen so far since I’d woken up in that cage, but that isn’t saying much.
There are heaps of trash piled up along the edges, but the floor in front of the makeshift throne is clear.
The queen sits on that throne, her eyes alight with delight as I’m carried into the room.
Around her, there are three other male players, each of them as scantily clad as I am.
Their eyes are blank as I’m carried in, no reaction at all.
All three of them wear a leather collar around their neck that immediately makes me uneasy.
“There he is!” the queen declares. “My new morsel!”
I scowl at her. “How about you go fuck yourself?”
Her smile only widens. “I’d rather fuck you.”
Bile rises in my throat again, but there’s nothing left in my stomach to throw up. I’m dropped on the floor in front of her and rise to my feet, refusing to bow to her as the guards at my side remain close.
“I’d rather get eaten,” I growl.
She laughs and stands from her throne, stepping down the few stairs to stand before me. “Oh, it’s too late for that, Bone Breaker.”
The other men scramble after her, crawling like animals, like dogs at her beck and call.
She snaps her fingers and another guard appears with a leather collar.
I try to take a step back, try to get away from that collar as she takes it in her claws.
The guards behind me clamp their claws around my arms, holding me still as she giggles.
“Do you know what this is?” she asks me.
“A collar,” I spit. “I’m no one’s dog!”
She laughs again, delighted by my response. “It’s much more than that. Go ahead and use your interface.”
I hesitate, mostly because I don’t know if I should trust her goading, but ultimately, my curiosity wins and I touch the metal implant in my arm.
FENRIR’S COLLAR
Wearable trinket
Placing this collar around a player’s neck nullifies their Glitch powers nearly to normal, no matter their tier.
A Tier Five will revert back to their original stats, the same as a Tier One.
Once placed, the collar cannot be removed by anyone other than the one who placed it or the one who kills the placer.
I fight harder at the hold on my arms as the rat queen unbuckles the collar and comes closer. It’s no use. I’m not strong enough right now to fight them. As she slowly buckles the collar around my neck, I’m met with the realization that I’m true and royally fucked if Vesper doesn’t find me.
My interface pops up immediately, notifying me of my changed stats.
TIER 2 - CARTILAGE CRANK
Wastrel, peak
STRENGTH: 7
AGILITY: 10
VITALITY: 10
WILLPOWER: 10
CHARISMA: 8
LUCK: 6
FRACTURE POINTS: 0
CORRUPTION: 15%
CURRENT BUFFS AND DEBUFFS:
-8 to strength while under the effects of giggle water.
-4 to luck while under the effects of giggle water. Time remaining: 1 hour and 21 minutes.
“There,” the rat queen coos. She wraps her claws around my shoulder and her expression hardens. “Now . . . get on your knees, Bone Breaker.”
I stare into her eyes and tilt up my chin. “No.”
The first puncture of her claws is painful. The second is downright excruciating. Still when she asks me again, I tilt up my chin.
“Get. On. Your. Knees.”
I bare my teeth as I grin. With a deep breath to steel myself, I straighten my shoulders despite the pain and look her in the eyes.
“No.”