Best of Intentions: How Far We've Come (ch. 5) (Patreon)

Despite it all, I did manage to snag a long rest. Cure Wounds did nothing to deal with my mental exhaustion, and after the day that we just had, I was utterly spent. I actually felt a bit bad about it when I realized I more or less passed all responsibility over to Jill and the others just so I could catch some z's. You would think that with everything I had to worry about, I would have some trouble sleeping. But no, that was not the case. I slept like a baby and woke up feeling refreshed as the apocalypse began.

My back popped a good dozen times because of the shitty cot that I had fallen asleep in. But, the action also brought my attention to the fact that my sleeve was completely encrusted with blood. Same for my stomach. I felt absolutely disgusting and I don't think I've ever regretted not taking prestidigitation more than I did upon waking up.

Cracking my neck, I looked around to see that I was in the mall above central station. It was a large building filled with dozens of stores that lined the walls. It was hands down the biggest mall in Raccoon City, and it was in prime real estate almost smack dab in the middle of town. There was a lot of noise happening, I quickly noticed, rubbing gunk out of my eyes. There were a lot of people here. And when I said a lot, I meant a lot of people. The central area of the mall was filled with long rows of cots that were set up for people to sleep in. Some people even put up some curtains to give the illusion of privacy.

Groping around, I found my glasses on the floor next to the battered remnants of Dakka. I would resurrect her soon enough. Preferably with better materials than the aluminum I found and used in a pinch last time.

"Well, everyone's not on fire. They can wait for me to get a shower," I decided, standing up and popping my back a few more times. My poor spine. I glanced around to see that a shower wasn't in the cards yet, leading me to head to the front door.

The metal grates were down on all but one of the doors. Which luckily had an airlock between them. Those doors, in turn, were guarded by a couple of twitchy looking cops. "Sir, we can send out a rescue team if you have any relatives in the city. But, please, stay inside during the ongoing emergency.

"Thanks, but I'm just going to get a shower," I said, waving him off. And pushing through the first set of doors.

"Sir! The city is in a state of emergency! I'm afraid that I must insist that you stay inside where it's safe!" The cop continued to protest, but it was the guard on the inside of the double doors that recognized me.

"You're that crazy guy!" He blurted as soon as he saw me. I was famous? Cool.

"Not crazy, but very filthy at the moment. I'll be fine,” I said, but I saw that wasn’t convincing anyone. “Look, I knew about this shit show way before any of you did. Despite me screaming at the top of my lungs about it. So, who do you think is more prepared for that mess out there?” I asked them, cocking an eyebrow. It was a trick question. The answer was them. It was totally them. They were physically fit and stuff. The most impressive muscle on me was my brain, and that was a zombie’s favorite snack.

But the fools fell into the trap. “Er, right. If you’re sure, but, er, I think that Captain would like a word with you?” The fettering cop remarked, and to that, I waved him off.

“I’ll be across the street if it's so important,” I said, stepping out of the mall. There was a barricade set up around the entrance to the mall, and the shutters were pulled down but there was a message spray painted on them. Safety Here. There were a few people that were hidden outside, who looked at me cautiously as I ventured out into the city.

It almost looked normal, I thought, heading to my house up the road. There were people driving on the streets, but their cars were stuffed full of supplies. They were laying on the horns when they found themselves in bumper-to-bumper traffic. There was little to no foot traffic on the streets, leaving me to having a sidewalk all to myself. However, looking at the windows, I saw a lot of eyes that were peering out.

If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend that the city was still the same. Well, I could have until I passed by a car that was left with the engine running and blood smeared across the busted in windows. The radio playing an emergency message, “This is not a drill. Please stay indoors until you are evacuated to a security point. The police and military will be doing door to door checks to escort you there. Please, do not open your door under any other circumstances-” I didn’t see a dead body near the car, even if it was enough blood to kill a man.

My eyes narrowed when I saw the car in my parking spot, or, more specifically, the massive middle finger. What an absolute dick. I had better-

“Oh,” I muttered, seeing my neighbor in the driver’s seat of the car. He was scratching at the window, his white shirt covered in blood from a bite wound on his shoulder. That was… “Kind of a downer,” I decided, approaching the car. There was a fire poker near the door. I don’t even think these buildings had chimneys. What a pretentious douchebag. Coming to a stop, I picked the fire poker up and glanced at my neighbor. He looked like he was trying to get away in his pajamas but got bit.

I was tempted to call this karma for stealing my parking spot, but that seemed a bit much. “You were a dick, but you didn’t deserve this,” I told him, raising my gun and pulling the trigger. His head snapped back, and time went still.

Level five. I was burning through the levels, and after last night, I could feel how under-leveled I was to deal with stuff like Nemesis. I threw absolutely everything I had at him and he just ate it and asked for more. It was nothing short of dumb luck that we were still alive right now. If I hadn’t uninfused the bag of holding, if I didn’t infused the Spellwrought tattoo… everyone in that car would be dead right now.

My selection this time was easy enough. I gained access to second-level spells, and gained two second-level spell slots -- meaning more heals and summoning Dakka. I gained the Scorching Ray and Shatter spells upon reaching level 5, but I also took the time to swap out Grease for Spiderweb. They were both area control spells, and while Spiderweb needed actual spiderwebs as a spell component, the webs themselves could be used to create fires. Something very useful when I had a flamethrower.

However, the main feature that I was looking forward to was Arcane Firearm. But, first, a shower.

Heading into my apartment, I saw that everything was still there. So, I hadn’t been ransacked and everything wasn’t where it actually needed to be. Putting that off for the moment, I peeled off my sweater and pants, stepping into the shower and… “That’s the stuff,” I decided, feeling a blast of hot water wash over me. The water turned murky and I ended up having to use my nails to scrape off the dried blood. In doing so, I saw that I hadn’t emerged from the night without a few reminders.

On my shoulder, around my collar bone, was a scar from where I got shot. On my side, just under my ribs, was another from where I got tentacled. There was even a pale line on my arm from where it broke. They weren’t glaring, but it was a very stark reminder that Cure Wounds was not a Greater Restoration. There were injuries that I might not be able to shake off.

Feeling refreshed, I stepped out the shower and went about getting dressed. Decided on another turtle neck since the extra fabric could, in theory, protect my neck. With my hair still drying, I went into my bedroom and grabbed the notebook that I had tapped underneath the dresser.

“Finally,” I muttered, looking at some designs that I had sketched out. They weren’t very good. I didn’t have proficiency in art. However, it was pretty clear what it was -- a gun. My Arcane Gun. One that I would need to build from scratch. I could see in my head what the final product would look like, but I also knew that it would be some time before I got to see that final product. I would need time, revisions, tests, and as my abilities increased, I could look to improving the models.

Being an Artificer was one part magic bullshit and one part physics, I decided, taking a set at my cluttered kitchen table. I had the pieces that would be my arcane gun laid out, and it was simply a matter of assembling them. Which was pretty easy all things considered. The easiest way to describe being an Artificer was using magic to bend the rules of physics. What I was creating shouldn’t work, yet it would simply because the hard unyielding rules of reality were bent or outright ignored.

To that end, everything that I created half worked because I wanted it to and half because I knew what I was doing. And, to be completely honest, that was actually a huge issue for me. Assuming that I hit level 20 as an Artificer, that left me with six attunement slots and six infusions to fill. In theory, that math checked out. Made total sense. However, there were a lot of extremely good magical items that I could create.

What was better? One bag of holding? Or a hundred bags of holding? A ring of Protection? How about one for each finger ontop of a Cloak of Protection? A Belt of Hill Giant’s Strength? Barrier Tattoo. Ring of Regeneration. Spell Gem. There were a lot of items I coveted, but I was stuck at six. Even if I only could use six at a time, I should spread the love around. Give some items to Jill and Chris.

“The roadblock has been removed,” I muttered to myself, sliding in the trigger and feeling it click in place. The roadblock was that I hadn’t unlocked the class features yet, but now I have. I could create the items as infusions. If this were a campaign, I could do something like spend a month of time and roll high enough arcana checks to figure out how to create a permanent version. Then roll some checks to see how the creation progress went to actually create it.

I had proficiency in Arcane, so, in theory, I could, maybe, possibly, start figuring out how this shit worked. Likewise, I wasn’t bound by the hard rules of DnD. Probably. So, in theory, there was nothing stopping me from figuring out… say… how to disperse the T-virus vaccine with Dakka in heal-bot mode. Or up her damage by getting my hands on the blueprints of that railgun down in the Hive to scale them down.

Those things were for game balance. And I had absolutely no intention playing fair.

The only issue for all of it was the fact that it all would take time. Time to figure things out. Time to build it. Time to get the ball rolling. And, quite frankly, time felt like it was the one thing that I didn’t have.

“Still, glad I got this done,” I said, holding up my Arcane Firearm. It had a little weight to it -- but, that was mostly because of the steel blocks it was made of. Each one was inscribed with a rune, marking it with a spell that would shift into the ‘barrel’ of the gun to shoot out of. Despite the fact that all the blocks were solid. Inside the cylinders were the spell components necessary to activate the spells in sealed containers -- literal garbage for Tasha’s Caustic Brew, a chip of Mica for Shatter, and some cobwebs for Web.

Then I smiled to myself, “Thank you, Control. I'm just gonna shamelessly steal your intellectual property,” I muttered. I stole the design for the Service Weapon after all. I tested the weight and took aim down the sights. With a thought, the blocks shifted as the cantrip Fire Bolt was selected. They rearranged themselves again when I aimed Shatter, then again when I chose Caustic Brew, and then back to Fire Bolt. Any spell -- any Artificer spell, rather -- would be stronger coming out of this gun.

Why? Dunno. Class feature.

Getting up, I grabbed the holster that I got for the occasion and slid my gun in, leaving it just under my arm at my ribs. Then I brought my attention to Dakka. Or, rather, the materials that I was hoping would become Dakka.

I could make an Eldritch Cannon out of anything. I could make it out of sticks and stones as easily as I could make it out of adamantine or something. All I had to do was will it into existence and Dakka would assemble herself with the materials that were available. But, I was hoping to counteract that a bit by lugging around a dedicated body. With it, I could see how Dakka reacted with better materials or if the modifications I made would work.

Perhaps, I could even extend the lifespan of Dakka beyond a single hour.

The equipment was steel blocks, just like I made my gun out of. It was basically some stuff I got from a hardware store because I lacked the means to actually forge Dakka's body. All together, it was about ten pounds worth of metal, so fairly light all things considered. Grabbing it, I attached it to the holster around my shoulders on my back, finding that it fit somewhat uncomfortably between my shoulder blades. All that was left was grabbing some stick-on tattoos to shove in my pocket for emergencies.

Feeling a lot better, I stepped outside to see that the earlier gunshot had attracted some attention. A zombie stumbled around the car, as if looking for the source. I saw a half dozen more coming up the road directly in front of me, and three more coming from the left. They were coming out in force now. Taking out my gun, I leveled it at the first zombie and pulled the trigger, sending out a blast of Fire Bolt that punched the zombie in the chest. The flames began to spark up, consuming the corpse's hair and clothing until it was completely engulfed in flame.

The stench of burnt hair filled my nostrils as I crinkled my nose in disgust. However, even as the corpse shambled forward, raising its hands to lunge for me, its skin blackened and thick greasy black smoke came off of it when the fire really got going. It reached the small fence, still going for me as it burned. Tumbling over it, it collapsed to the ground and didn't get up again.

"Ten seconds," I muttered to myself, having counted it out. Fire Bolt was a cantrip, meaning that I could cast it endlessly. So, in theory, I had unlimited ammo. The issue being was the cantrips didn't seem to hit as hard as a bullet. A ten second kill time could very well be the difference between life and death in a pinch. Holstering my gun, I took out my notebook and made a small note of that. Stepping past the still burning body, I resisted the urge to start burning through my spell slots to see what my other spells would do.

I would have time for experimentation after Nemesis and Mr. X were dealt with. When things… settled, for lack of a better word.

Taking aim with my gun, I fired a handful of other firebolts at the incoming zombies. The gun didn't have much in the way of recoil, but there was some as a small pebble like blast of fire erupted from the barrel, expanding in size and leaving behind a trail of smoke before impacting the zombies.

Headshots killed them a lot faster. Near instantly like a bullet to the head. I’m not sure if damage rolls were a thing for me, but it was representative. With an Arcane Firearm, any spell that came from my Artificer class -- including cantrips -- received 1d8 additional damage. As a Level 5, my cantrips were upgraded to 2d10 damage. That translated into some potent flames and with a headshot, the brain was flash burned. Hitting the body flash burned the flesh and ignited the corpses, as I saw before, and they burned hot enough to cook the brain in the skull in a few seconds.

Deciding to clear the street, as I took aim at the final shambling corpses, the kill was stolen from me as a loud pop filled the air. Glancing over at the source, I saw that it was Jill, who was carrying an assault rifle. She was joined by Chris, and some other guy that I didn't know. He seemed to be in his late thirties to early forties, brown hair cut military style and clean shaven.

All three of them were wearing some kind of flack vest. Chris was wearing some on his arms in addition to a vest, while Jill had a simple vest and I noticed that she had a black hat on that said RCPD. She looked good in it. Really good. Shit, I think that just did something to me. Ah, well, in any case, it was good to see that the two of them hadn’t been reduced to paste while I was taking a nap.

“Kill thief,” I accused Jill as they approached, looking them over. They weren’t dressed like cops, but they wore the logo on several places, like on a jacket or hat.

“What are you doing out here, Rude? And what is that thing?” Jill asked, lowering her rifle as she glanced at the burnt bodies that still smoked. I gave my arcane gun a little wave, making her eyes narrow into slits when she saw how odd it appeared.

“Picking up some things. Seems like everything went straight to hell the moment I closed my eyes,” I remarked, holstering my gun. “I hate to ask, but the big guy -- he make another appearance?”

To that, Chris shook his head, “No. You were right, though -- we didn’t kill him. We checked the body, but it was gone. No sign of where it went, so Jill and I have been patrolling outside of the safety points to make sure we don’t drag trouble their way.” Chris explained, and that was a relief and about the expected reaction I thought they would have. It was better this way, as harsh as it might sound. Nemesis would absolutely be coming for Jill and Chris, no matter where they were. Them being isolated put them in more danger, but it also meant that there was less chance of collateral damage when it did come for them.

I nodded, having expected that much before the third man stepped forward, offering a hand. “I’m Deputy Chief Raymond Dogulas. It's good to finally meet you, Rude. You saved a lot of lives -- between the posters, papers, and securing the entrances… I'm speaking on behalf of the city when I say we'd be much worse off if you didn't do what you did," he told me earnestly as he shook my hand.

That was a little embarrassing. "Yeah, well… don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain," I told him, feeling a little uncomfortable with the genuine respect he seemed to have. It was far easier when people looked at me like I was an asshole because I usually was acting like one. "If you're the big cheese, then what are you doing out here?"

"Big cheese?" Chris questioned.

"For you, actually. I'm told you have access to… nanomachines? That they could help protect people, even heal them. We’ve managed to secure central station, but most of the city is left unprotected. I… I don’t even know how bad the situation is. I have my men putting up barricades and organizing evacuations to safety points like the police HQ, but it’s not enough,” Raymond began, and I knew this was coming. I knew from the very start.

I let out a small sigh, “I wish I could help you out with that, but I can’t. I have hard limits that I’m trying to break -- the long and short of it is that I can only control one machine at a time at the moment, and they’re directly linked to me. If I could hand over a drone army, I would, but I have no idea if it’s possible. Same for the bag of holding and the tattoos -- I can create two of them, but they’re maintained by me.”

I really wish that I was in a position to start slinging out drone armies and have magical items out the ass. I really wish I could hand out spellwrought tattoos like they were candy on top of rings of regeneration or invisibility cloaks. I really, really, really did. Wishing had nothing to do with it, though -- I couldn’t. Maybe, sometime in the future, that wouldn’t be true. In the here and now, despite how badly we needed it… it was very true.

Those things took a lot more time than we had available to us.

The answer visibly deflated Raymond, though he didn’t seem particularly surprised by the answer. However, it was Jill that spoke up, “And how exactly do you have these nanomachines?” She asked, her tone suspicious as she leveled a look at me that screamed ‘no bullshit, please.’ The please may or may not be a figment of my imagination.

I had an answer for that too. “Oh, I was a lab rat for Umbrella,” I answered, offering a small shrug of my shoulders and Jill went still. “At least I think I was. I’m not really sure, to be honest. I think I might have been an official experiment that got shut down, then I got continued anyway by some guy in his basement.” It was all bullshit, but it was plausible bullshit. Umbrella was into some weird stuff, so nanomachines that were… I don’t know, biological dependent sounded like something they would get into.

It worked as a backstory to explain all the shenanigans that I would be getting into as well as explain why I didn’t officially exist in the world. “Then that got shut down when Umbrella realized that they were embezzling money, they got scrubbed and tried to scrub me, only to botch the job. Got out, found my way to Raccoon City, and… yeah. Here we are, standing in the middle of a road during a zombie apocalypse,” I continued and I could read Jill’s expression too easily. “I don’t keep it hidden because I’m ashamed of it, or anything. Pity is annoying and I can’t be bothered with it, so don’t. I don’t pity myself, so you don’t have any reason to.”

That got her to close her eyes for a moment before nodding, “Well, it explains why you’re such an asshole.” She decided, taking a breath and the pity was gone. Good.

“Well, so long as you’re using it at their expense, I can’t complain,” Chris decided, offering a small nod in my direction. "That how you knew about Bard?"

"No. I'm just very distrustful of authority figures. And any time I see anything remotely suspicious, I just assume Umbrella. I’m usually right. Plus, he’s a renowned virologist in Raccoon City, which is practically Umbrella’s home turf, so I just figured that he and any other notable figure works for them," I told him, making Chris blink. "Like how the Mayor and police chief are probably in their pocket."

Raymond looked at Jill and Chris, both of whom seemed like they were trying really hard to argue the logic, but couldn't because they suspected I was right. Glancing at me, he said, "I… it's tough to believe, but I think you've more than earned the benefit of the doubt."

That was convenient. "Alright, so, are you three doing anything right now?” I asked, looking at the three of them. From the brief glance that I got after waking up from my nap, I saw that the actual organization of the safe haven was largely out of my hands. Which was a very good thing for me, as far as I was concerned. It meant that I wouldn’t be involved in the nitty-gritty details that would take my attention away from more important tasks -- like killing zombies, or figuring out how to mass produce the vaccine. Or killing Nemesis.

Raymond gave me a hesitant look, “I have to continue organizing the safe havens. I only came out here to see if the technology that you use is mass-producible.” So he was heading back then? Perfect.

“I stole a computer,” I said, reaching into my bag of holding and the gallon bag opened up to let me pull the tower case out. With a light toss, I gave it to Raymond. “I have no idea how to hack things, so you’re going to want to get someone on that. I’m guessing there are probably some Umbrella secrets located on the harddrive.” I told him before jabbing a thumb over my shoulder at the apartment. “And there’s a bunch of supplies that I was gathering in there -- a lot of bottled water and canned food.”

Raymond seemed pretty caught up on the whole ‘stolen computer pulled out of a too-small bag’ thing, but he showed that he had his priorities in order when I said food and water. Raymond seemed to have his head screwed on straight, for better or worse. I was a little worried about how things would shake out, and while it did seem too early to say that I could trust him with everyone's safety, he was making generally a good first impression.

“Probably?” He questioned, his eyebrows raising to his hairline.

“It was hidden behind a sci-fi door. And at the general hospital, there was a secret room general staff weren’t allowed behind. Meaning Umbrella is involved,” I stated with certainty. Both Chris and Jill looked like they wanted to argue the point on principle again, but they realized that I was right. “Also, if Irons starts acting suspicious, you should shoot him.”

“Er-”

“Or don’t. I’ll do it at some point. Anyway,” I continued on, looking at Chris and Jill, “Since you both have a fuck off big monster hunting you, we need to set up a safe house for you. Before we do that, though, now that the city is past the point of no return… we need to start luring out zombies and killing them en masse. Draw them into locations that have already been evacuated then kill them all.”

That caught their attention more than the casual mention of murder. Or killing, since murder kind of implied that he didn’t have it coming.

It was Jill that spoke up. “What do you have in mind?” She asked, her tone faintly wary when she saw my smile.

Power leveling, here I come.