Overclocked -CH18- (Patreon)

“Hey, Wrench,” mumbled Chuckles.

Him and the rest of the Brawlers were standing on the filter with him. All waiting for Goodie and Dickhead to finish bartering. They were talking so quickly, and with so man words that Wrench just didn’t understand, that he was ignoring them.

He was just barely able to ignore the constant static, squelching, and gibberish that was coming out of his implant.

Barely.

“Chuckles,” Wrench allowed. “Saw you and Freckles come over. Something happen to the Hab?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, it did,” Chuckles confirmed. “After you became Head, then the Tongsta took you away, we didn’t… really know what to do.

“When the Tongsta finally came back they were freaking out. Shrieking, screaming, and we had no idea what to do. They got a carrier, stuffed us all inside, then took us somewhere else.

“We moved around through a few Habs, then ended up in this one. I think we’re staying here. At least… I hope so. I’m tired of constantly moving around. I had to fight off a few Brawlers at the last Hab who wanted Freckles.”

Wrench nodded his head slowly.

There were a number of Habs that had very down-and-out Hume in it that would take, kill, or eat you. Hume that were little better than wild animals without a shred of conscience. Their living conditions turning them into beasts and stripping them of what civility they might have had.

Thankfully he’d never been in one, though he’d heard the stories.

Stories from countless people in the Resistance who’d been through that.

It was also where he’d heard about the Brawler Games.

He’d only vaguely noticed that Club would leave for a few weeks at a time, then return. Each time he did, it was always with rewards.

Solos specific to keep him company, new clothes that were far better than what could be made in the Hab, furniture for his pen, or a weapon. Each of a quality that were nearly otherworldly.

The number of times Club had come back with a woman of unmatched beauty were few and far between, but they did happen. Women that made Dusky and the others look almost unfortunate.

Which meant that even Club did well enough to warrant extreme rewards on occasion.

That means I can easily get some prizes here. Take them all back to the Hab and live even more comfortably.

If Goodie gets rewards for it, all the better. She’ll feel like she wants to invest in our Hab even more, I bet.

I just have to win.

“So what’re the games?” asked Chuckles. “Never done it before. Club had mentioned it once but… nothing much after that. He seemed guarded about it, in fact.”

“Gladiator games. Sometimes to the death, sometimes not,” Wrench answered to the full extent of what he knew. “If you win, chances are you’ll get rewards. Big ones.

“If you lose… well… you might come back whole, or at all. That’s everything I know. I want to go though. I can get a bunch of upgrades for my Hab if I win. I know it.

“Every time Clu… every time I heard about it, I always heard about the winnings. The winnings are what I need.”

“I’m not so sure I’ll survive it, really,” Chuckles whispered more to himself than to Wrench.

Or so Wrench figured.

Glancing to his side, Wrench found himself wondering about the man.

He had no memory of Chuckles. No actual impressions of him, other than that Freckles mentioned him in his past life. She’d wanted to join him and had played Wrench against him.

That’d been the extent of it.

Must’ve died in the games.

Doesn’t seem like a bad sort.

“I can probably give you some combat training. Might help a bit,” Wrench offered suddenly. “Not as much as you’d like I imagine. We won’t have much time and really… well… it’d take more tiem to train you than we have.”

“I’ll take it. I’ll take anything you’re willing to offer, Wrench-Head,” Chuckles stated quite firmly. “Freckles said you were a good person before, she just didn’t know why you suddenly changed.

“She thought uh… thought it was because I asked her to be mine. That you just lost it.”

“Oh, the change was a long time coming. I’d already decided to change before she mentioned what she wanted,” Wrench remarked as Dickhead turned to them. The carrier that they’d been holding inside of their body oozed out.

With a click it latched into the air-lock.

“That’s our cue,” Wrench murmured and then entered the carrier.

Chuckles and two other Brawlers he didn’t know joined them.

Time for the games.

And to test out this body.

Flexing his hands, Wrench couldn’t help but feel a bit strange.

He’d eaten enough calories to feed a family of ten for several months, in two days.

Converted it all into calories.

Then burned it all away to force his body to grow, shift, gain new muscles, and reinforce itself.

At this point, he wasn’t just a Hume anymore. He felt more like a Hume-Plus.

Or some silly notion in that general idea.

Kinda a super-Hume.

I wonder what Blue-Bill would think if he saw me now.

***

Wrench had spent the better part of the day giving Chuckles a lot of very basic instruction.

The proper way to hold a sword or a spear, how to keep his feet planted and shift them, rather than stepping, and where to watch his opponents.

It was all simple and basic things that you’d tell a new recruit on their first day. Nothing that would be life saving, but a foundation for later.

Realistically, Wrench just didn’t have the time or luxury to worry too much about Chuckles. He’d help him if he could, but his survival really wasn’t up to Wrench.

When they arrived wherever it was they were going, Wrench felt tired.

Thankfully, Goodie had given him a break at one point and pulled him out of the carrier to feed him and give him water. As well as a chance to make water and empty his bowels.

He couldn’t really hold a single negative thought against Goodie. She was clearly and painstakingly watching out for him at every turn.

It was no surprise to him when Chuckles and the other Brawlers fell on the food and drink that the carrier had emptied into. Only for them to immediately turn and shuffle off to the ditch to relieve themselves quickly.

The area was small, no bigger than twenty-foot by twenty-foot. In truth it felt more like a holding-Hab than anything.

Wrench gathered up his food, drink, and then set off for a quiet corner. He wanted to recharge, rest, and be ready. There was no telling what would happen next.

“Wrenchie, we’re going to stop here for a short break. Then we’ll go straight to the entry games. It’ll be our squad of four versus another squad,” Goodie chirped, appearing just outside of the glass. “Just make sure you survive, okay? Nothing else matters.

“Survive. I know you can do it. You’re my special spssss! My Wrenchie. I know you’ve already gone through worse. Do you need anything? Everything alright.”

Wrench stared at Goodie while chewing at a strip of dried meat, then he slowly nodded his head. Then he held up his hand and gave her a thumbs up while nodding his head.

He’d understood nearly everything she’d said.

To him, it almost felt like he was actually understanding more and more of Tongsta speech the more he heard of it. Especially with Goodie.

“Great. That’s a yes, right? My good boy?” Goodie asked.

“Yes. I’m good. Thank you, Goodie,” Wrench replied, nodding his head more firmly now.

“Mm! My good boy! If you win the whole thing, I’m going to get you everything. Everything! It’s more xxhht than I’ve ever gotten before! More than even my xxhht has gotten! Only xxhht has earned that kind of xxhht,” Goodie elaborated.

Pretty sure whatever she’s talking about is… a form of money or… err… prestige?

Bet that’s it.

So yeah.

Club won or did well enough to get the Tongsta a reward of some type. That became a reward for him in turn.

In other words, do well.

Do well and try to keep Dickhead’s Brawlers alive, too. So they can get some rewards, too.

That’d make them be nicer to Goodie, wouldn’t it?

Wrench sat there, resting, his thoughts trickling back and forth as he gnawed at his meal. Waiting for whatever would be coming next.

“Try not to over-eat, or drink too much!” Wrench called to the others he was with. “We’ll be fighting soon. May want to start stretching and getting yourself limbered up.”

“Huh?” they three said at the same time.

Giving them not a single thought further, Wrench instead finished off the jerky, ditched the rest into the grass, drank some of his water, then laid down in the grass.

He’d preserve his energy until it was time to begin.

Then he’d ramp his systems into full combat.

No sooner than he’d settled on the ground than he was able to clear his thoughts quickly. Letting his mind quiet itself and begin floating along with idle things carrying him.

Focusing on nothing and everything except the upcoming fight.

All the preparations had already been made. The remaining issue was activating his Systems to move into “combat mode” as he dubbed it, then eliminating the enemy.

Using the body he’d made to it’s utmost potential. A potential honed for this type of situation.

Though… what if I tried to fight for the Resistance now?

Would I be able to overcome a lot of the issues that we faced previously? With awareness of the future, knowledge gained through experience, and a body that could survive in much worse locations?

A single grunt, shaking his head, and then clearing that thought was, was all Wrench allowed. He didn’t want to devote his existence to something that didn’t mean anything.

Where he’d lost his wife, his friends, what family he’d created among those individuals, all for a cause that amounted to absolutely nothing in the end. A cause that’d been to the detriment of everyone who’d joined.

I’ll give them my knowledge and information if I can.

Provide to them all the lessons learned, but not join them. I can help them like that while still doing what I want.

Just a helper.

“Okay! Wrenchie! Here comes the battle-Hab! You’ll be put in through the air-lock and move to the center! Just slaughter them all! After this is when the first blood and wounding fights happen,” instructed Goodie. “This is the only kill-or-be-killed fight.”

“Right,” muttered Wrench and levered himself off the ground.

While it hadn’t felt like long, he knew instinctively that he’d been laying there for at least ten or twenty minutes. Enough for his body to feel heavy and that if he didn’t have control over his Systems, it’d be hard for him to be ready to fight.

Given the travel that they’d gone through as well as what kind of accommodation others would likely provide their Hume, Wrench wasn’t expecting much from his opponents. They’d be just as messed up as Chuckles and the other two looked.

Wrench didn’t try to warm himself up or anything like that.

Instead he just opened his Systems window.

With practiced motions and no need to check what he was doing, Wrench rapidly flicked everything to where he wanted it so he could dominate a fight. To push himself to the limits of what was possible and lock them in place.

Once again, the only thing he didn’t activate was the slowing down of his perception of time.

That was something that took far too much out of him, too quickly. Something to be used sparingly and when needed.

A low thrumming noise became audible after a time. A noise that sounded a lot like the hum of a heavy-duty water-recycler in the middle of a cycle. A hydraulic like noise that made Wrench want to immediately run off and check the water-lines to make sure there wasn’t a blockage.

After standing there for several seconds wondering what the fuck was going on, Wrench realized what it was.

The small Hab they were in was being transported elsewhere by a machine.

This is just a delivery box.

They put us in it, so we could be delivered elsewhere.

Removing us from our Tongsta’s and putting us into a situation that they can’t help us. All on our own against those who want to kill us.

Alright, I can do that.

Snickering to himself, Wrench couldn’t help but flash back in his mind to killing everyone and anything that stood in the way of the resistance. More than a handful of Humes had died at his hands in his relentless pursuit of a goal that ended up not mattering at all.

“What do we do?” Chuckles asked, drifting over to stand at Wrench’s left. “I’ll follow your lead, Wrench-Head.”

Wrench-Head.

Well… no harm in helping the young-one out.

I’ll do what I can to keep him and the others alive but I won’t risk myself for them.

“Stay close, watch for enemies, do what you can. They’re going to be trying to kill you. Don’t hesitate to take their life. The expectation is at least four Humes die where-ever we’re going. As many as seven,” Wrench warned. “Don’t be a number. Survive. I’m sure Di-your Tongsta will reward you even for a minor victory.”

“Okay. Yeah. Yeah, survive,” Chuckles said, followed by a low chuckle. “I mean, that’d kinda suck. Actually get Freckles and then die.”

Wrench snorted at that but nodded his head. He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Chuckles didn’t try as hard after he’d talked Freckles into staying with him in his past life.

“Yeah, something like that,” Wrench agreed as Chuckles continued to actually chuckle.

The laughter was low and bubbling. As if he were a pot left to simmer and the heat was increasing.

Finally Wrench was able to accurately discern which way they were moving. For a while it’d just felt like motion and he had no idea in which direction they’d been traveling.

Turning to face that direction, he could see a much larger Hab enclosure in the distance.

They were moving toward it rather quickly.

Looking to the corners of the Hab he noticed only now that the whole of the wall could be pulled away.

Rather than an air-lock, the entire wall was likely to be retracted so that there was nowhere to hide, or use as a choke point.

A shame. It’d have been nice to utilize the air-lock so only one can come at me at a time.

Because let’s face it… there’s a good likelihood that the others will die and then I have to fight even more of the enemy. That for every second I spend fighting my opponent, there’s the chance that one of the others will die, and I’ll have another to deal with.

Speed, then.

Speed and lethality.

Though, uh… what kind of weapons will we get? There’s nothing in here to use.

The Hab they were in pushed up against the much larger one and then remained there.

Looking to the edges of the new Hab he could see they had a rubber line that would more than likely fit into the pane of Hab-glass that was their current ceiling.

Walking forward, Wrench put his hand to the glass.

It felt cold to the touch. As if where-ever they were going hadn’t been pressurized or had no temperature control.

“It’s cold,” said one of the Brawlers. They’d apparently done the same thing Wrench had done. “What does that mean?”

“No temp control or it was exposed to the vacuum,” Wrench muttered. He saw no growth inside the new Hab.

It was wide open, flat, and filled with what looked like a packed clay. Something he could run on fairly easily and get good traction, but could be torn up if he really dug in.

“Is it trembling because they’re venting air in?” asked the other Brawler.

Pulling his hand away, Wrench leaned in to the glass. Looking up and at it from a steep angle he could see it flexing back and forth.

“Yeah, they’re filling it. We’ll be fighting in there,” Wrench concluded and then took a step back.

As far as he could see there wasn’t anything in this new Hab at all.

No weapons, nothing to make a weapon out of, and nowhere to hide.

If this was a hand-to-hand fight, it’d get ugly.

Really ugly.

Then without warning the glass was pulled to the side and Wrench was struck with a wave of absolute frigid air. It rolled over him and it felt like through him.

Tearing out the warmth in his body and blasting it with an absolute chill.

Wrench was half tempted to modify his Systems, but he knew he didn’t have to.

All the changes he’d made would remain in place.

Fixed.

It’d only take him a minute at most for his body to ramp it back up to where it’d been.

“Be on your guard. Kill or be killed,” Wrench said, then set off at a walk. He’d been tempted to run off ahead, but he didn’t want the four he’d be going against to surround him.

He was strong, swift, and deadly.

But he wasn’t immortal.

He could still die.

By the time they reached the center of the new Hab, Wrench saw their opponents.

They’d entered from the opposite side and were doing the same his group was.

Looking around, acting confused, and generally not aware of the situation.

“Unfortunately, they have to die, so we can live,” Wrench said, trying to hit the same idea again for perhaps the fourth time. They needed to understand there was no other way out of this.

Mercy was asking for them to kill you in this situation.

Chuckles was chuckling.

The other two said nothing.

Then a low vibration overtook them all and made the very ground shake and tremble.

“Preliminary fight number two-hundred and four,” remarked a bored voice. “Coming from the xxhht of xxhht, four Humes. Three Brawlers, one Fixer. Coming from the xxhht of the venerable xxhht, four Demes. Four Brawlers.

“Now taking wagers. The house favors xxhht and offers a xxhht as a prize to the combatant with the most kills.

“Let’s have a great fight!”

There was a clanging noise that finished their words.

“What’d they say? I couldn’t understand any of that,” Chuckles asked worriedly.

“They said ‘Fight’,” Wrench lied.

There was no reason to explain that the Tongsta were taking bets on who lived and died, but everything made a lot more sense now. As well as why high performing Brawlers were rewarded so ridiculously.

Let’s kill as many as we can.