The Rise of OShbob Book 2 - Partition 4 (Patreon)

As Captain Arite had suggested, I headed straight to the Military Carver. He was stationed in the same building, so it was worth getting it seen too immediately.

The carver was a grizzled human. He may have even had a little dwarf somewhere in his genetics considering how broad and hairy he was.

He eyed me speculatively as I entered. “Orc! It’s been a while hasn’t it? I expected you to be trashing mods weekly.”

“Is that why you fitted this cheap shit on me?”

He chuckled and rubbed his belly he thought it was so funny. “Didn’t think you’d notice. There’s a reason the insult Orc Brains exists.”

“There’s a reason everyone is secretly terrified of us as well.”

“Aye, there’s truth in that. Come on in then. I’ve been feeling bad about the shit I tacked on you last time. You’ve done well here, and I’ve heard about the bullshit they’re pulling on you.”

He lowered his voice. “And thanks for those mods you got for my kid. Damn military wouldn’t do shit for me, but with that new Liver, there’s no stopping my youngest now. He’s apprenticed at MCorp believe it or not. Could make something of ‘imself yet.”

“Glad I could help,” I grumbled. Still reeling from the changes ahead. “Can you sort this leg out for me too?”

He winked, sidelong. “I’m not supposed to change anything not busted, but let’s have a look at it and we’ll see what we can do, eh? You can have a look through the arm stock I’ve got available for you and choose while I pull up some Leg-mods you can swap out for.”

“When you say ‘available for you’,  you mean specifically me, don’t you.”

He adopted a sheepish expression. “That there is a list of the worst tier three’s I could find to show you. Orders from above. You get me?”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

The first one listed filled me with despair at what was to come:

Full Arm (Right)

Tier: Three

The Mil-Co Hammer is a mainstay in mods designed for those   with a rugged lifestyle.

Falling rubble, stray ballistic shots, or a need to make a   beautifully shaped dent in a variety of substrates, the Mil-Co Hammer is the   arm for you.

Strength: 15

Dexterity: 6

Durability: 100/100

Slot Cost: 3

The Second one was no better.

Full Arm (Right)

Tier: Three

The Mil-Co, Special Edition: Crane Operator  provides a full range of upper arm motion and with incredible grip strength.

(Mil-Co accepts no responsibility for arm failure prior to   grip failure)

Strength: 15 (Hand: 18)

Dexterity: 4

Durability: 96/100

Slot Cost: 3

“These are awful. You know I had a tier three before I was brought here?”

He smirked. “Keep reading.”

I sighed.

Full Arm (Right)

Tier: Three

The Takemoto, Multi. When your work and life demand the   best, over enhancing any single attribute is a short trip to failure.

The Takemoto Multi, provides ability across the board.

Strength: 14

Dexterity: 14

Durability: 96/100

Slot Cost: 3

I ogled at the stats. I wouldn’t even know what to do with that much dexterity. I wondered how it would affect my accuracy with a rifle first and foremost.

“Is there any point reading on?”

He gave an imperceptible shake of his head. Then replied: “That’s up to you. If you see a winner, then go for it.”

Accepting not, looking at the other four options on the list would be foolish, I wasn’t surprised to find they were all truly terrible.

“Wow. You weren’t lying where you? There’s some real shit here. How is it even classed as tier three?”

“No idea. Somebody must be fudging the documentation.”

I flicked back through them. “Gimme three.”

He nodded. “Best of a bad bunch I reckon. I can give you the leg to match?” He gave me a little wink.”

I suppose so, I replied, feigning dejection.

As I lay back on the table, I made a mental note. Rare acts of kindness to people with a little power can pay off! I couldn’t even remember why I’d offered to source and supply a new liver for him, last time I was in here. I didn’t have much time to mull over the act as the anesthetic kicked in.

Coming around, fuzzy headed, I knew the work had been done, and done well as I could hardly feel any pain around the attachment site. I accessed my Keystone and brought up the stats:

Identification: Oshbob

Species: Orc

Bonus: None

Mod Capacity: 26

Mod Capacity in use: 8

Stat

Current Points

Description

Mods

Quality

Dexterity

6

Governs agility and movement.

Right Leg

Cost: 3

Strength: (14)

Dexterity: (14)

Right Arm:

Cost: 3

Strength: (14)

Dexterity: (14)

Tier 3 (Professional)

Tier-3 (Professional)

Mental
 Power

11

Governs swiftness and fortitude of the mind

Perception

9

Governs an individual’s senses and connection to the world   around them.

Altro-Recon

Cost: 2

Peception:10

Tier-2

(Basic)

Strength

15

Governs physical strength and damage dealt

Right Leg

Cost: 3

Strength: (14)

Dexterity: (14)

Right Arm:

Cost: 3

Strength: (14)

Dexterity: (14)

Tier-3 (Professional)

Tier-3 (Professional)

Toughness

15

Governs the body and internal fortitude

I’d be unbalanced all to hell with the right sided Dexterity, but it was a solid upgrade and I’d once proven that I could compensate.

“Thanks doc,” I said, jumping down from the table. “Sounds like I’m heading into the shit, but this is gonna help a lot.”

“Go easy on them for a few days if you can. Don’t want you sprinting off, and having to come back in for facial reconstruction. Though… it might improve things.”

“I’m sure it would,” I replied back as I headed for the door. “But I got over any shame I was made to feel over my race, a long time ago.”

He chuckled at what he thought must be a joke and I headed out of the door.

Our quarters were empty when I returned and from what was missing they hadn’t just gone for dinner. There was only three of our squad left with Turner gone, and me out of action. They couldn’t have sent them back out already, could they? Or had they already had replacements lined up.

What does it matter? I thought to myself. Not as if they’re true family. Just people I’ve been stuck with. Yet it hurt. Wed been close. Maddock was an utter arsehole from the start, but he didn’t care that I was an Orc. He was equally obnoxious to everyone he met. Jacobs was reserved, but he was solid and reliable, and he’d never caused me any issues. Hell even the new guy Gomez only looked at me with fear and respect. I growled to myself as I thumped down on my bed for the last time.

How was it I kept making bonds with human scum. Even both my hackers, Leo and Melia were human. Asala was human!

I’d protect them all to the death, I knew I could trust all three as much as I could trust anyone. But it was hard. For as many humans that I liked, there were a hundred behind them ready to throw a slur, or see me, or my kin burn. At least Elves kept it simple. They never gave me reason to like them. Every meeting reaffirmed the stereotypes about them.

I pushed the pointless thoughts down and sent Leo a message to explain what was happening.

They’re moving me to another base. It’s destination   is classified so I’ll let you know once I’m there.

Leo couldn’t reply, or it would be picked up. But a nice short message from me, out would never be caught.

With that done, I moved to my locker and grabbed my kit bag, filling it with almost everything I owned here. Then I dumped it on the bed and wandered over to the kitchen. Leaning down to the refrigerator, I opened the bottom drawer filled with beer and slid it all the way out, crouching to cover my movements. With a swift yank, I detached the small lock box from the back of the drawer, marveling at the increased Dexterity with which I completed the task. Then I slid it up my long sleeve where it stuck to the magnet imbedded there. Finally I pulled a beer out a beer and with a flick of my new thumb, I discarded the cap and drained it in one.

Throwing the empty into the sink, I grabbed another four, and headed back out to sit on my favorite couch. There I drank them slowly, hoping to see the guys before I left, but knowing full well, whoever had set this up wouldn’t allow me that luxury.

I didn’t know who was involved yet, but I would find out sooner or later and they’d go on the ledger in my mind, reserved for those who had crossed me. It could be a few weeks, it could be twenty years, but for as long as I was alive, I’d see to it everyone on that list would pay.

Some might call it petty. But not me. An Orc had to have a hobby.