Chapter 12

Your Worst Knightmare.

Six Months Post Apocalypse

OH, IAN, WAKEY WAKEY. WE'RE YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE, the mental voice said.

Uh, guys? Ian replied in kind. I hate to tell you this, but you're not even in the top twenty. I just had a nightmare about being burnt alive, and that wasn't even the worst. You wouldn't know anything about a psychic alien cat creature that enjoys playing with its food? Or better yet, how to kill it?

Sorry, Ian. I don't think cats are what you need to worry about right now. We're Skulls, and the two of us are Star Knights, the mental voice replied.

I wish I was a Star Knight, Ian said. I didn't think to ask BG for that character build. Look, guys, you need to return the kids. If you don't, there will be a bloodbath.

Us bathing in your blood, said the mental voice. I believe we will manage.

Maybe we should tell him we got his sister, a second mental voice said.

My sister can take care of herself, Ian responded. She'd been fine the evening before, when they'd talked. He'd sensed her leave home early that morning, but his sleep fogged mind was hazy on the why. Guard duty?

Not against us, voice two replied with a mental giggle. Maybe against someone like you, but not us. Ian got an image of Stacy in a daze, getting into a large car with tinted windows.

Shit! If you hurt my sister. I will fuck you up in ways you've never even dreamed of!

I'm so scared, said voice one. You can feel my fear, can't you. Master Alec.

Me too, Master Steve. Hands are shaking. My heartbeat went up... Let's see. One beat a minute.

Look, Ian, you have two choices, Master Steve said. You can sound the alarm and we leave. You'll never see your sister again. And we'll just kill you the next time we meet. Or you can come with us and fight us for her. If you defeat us in a mind duel, you can leave with your sister. Ian sensed they were lying about the last part.

Something about their minds made his skin crawl. The way Master Steve had thought 'we'll just kill you the next time we meet' was a lot like Ian might have thought: I'll have strawberry jam with my pancakes.

I'm guessing you'll do the former, said Master Steve. Don't worry. We won't hurt your sister. A girl who'll bring in 10,000 credits for every kid she has? That's good money. We're already setting up matches for her.

Shit, Ian thought. That BG's announcement might set Stacy up to be kidnapped had never occurred to him.

Fine. I'll fight you for my sister, Ian said. Tell me where to go.

Leave your little mansion and walk through the gate. We'll tell you where to go from there. If you tell anyone, we'll know. You'll never see your sister again, said Master Steve.

I'm coming, Ian said. He got up, threw on his armor, and grabbed his Glock 9mm. He felt sick. His hands were shaking. If he wasn't very lucky, he was going to die. He didn't see a choice. If he didn't do this, they and his sister would be gone.

He took the stairs two at a time.

“Oh Ian, Ian.”

Shit. It was Heather Sackler. A girl he shared the mansion with. Dealing with her was the last thing he needed. She and her female posse cut him off at the second-floor landing.

“Uh hi,” he said, looking down and doing his best to seem shy and awkward.

“Hi, Ian. Mother wanted me to ask if you could help her with her tarot-card reading again. She says you are the only one who gets her.” And your sister Stacy is a worthless little dingy-whore. One of these days I'm going to rip off her little dolly head, and spit down her little dolly neck. Heather's sweet smile never wavered as she thought about this. The mental images going through her mind were surprisingly vivid and detailed.

Bitch, he thought. “I, uh, I can't right now. My dad needs me for something. Maybe later?” As long as Ian came across as a pathetic loser, she'd consider him beneath contempt and leave him alone.

“Well, aren't you in demand,” she said. “I know I for one feel so much safer with you in the fortress.” The other three girls in her posse broke out in giggles. He heard laughter from several others walking by.

“Uh, thank you,” Ian said, pretending not to notice the obvious sarcasm. “I have to go... Uh. Bye.”

“Goodbye Ian,” she said, stepping back, letting him continue down the stairs.

Heather Sackler was one of the girls spreading mean rumors about his sister. If he survived this, he would definitely send her a few nightmares.

To the right of the mansion's front door was the market. People came from all over the city to buy, sell, and trade under the protection of the fortress walls. To his left, in a more out-of-the-way location, was a graveyard. He walked over to it. His dog, Fergi, was buried here, or what was left of her.

It turned out that animals could be trained to protect humans from aliens. But once that happened, the animal lost its noncombatant status. Aliens would attack them like they would humans. Fergi's death had been quick at least. She'd gone off to sniff a corner fire hydrant. The fire hydrant shape-changer literally bit her head off.

Ian walked past her small gravestone. It had the words “Here lies Fergi. A good dog,” and underneath in smaller letters, “We got the thing that did it.” Soon Ian might be buried nearby.

Many people entered and left the Fortress through the mansion gate this time of the morning. The guards knew Ian and waved him past. Nobody else noticed him leaving the Fortress grounds.

He felt the two psychics studying him.

He took a deep breath and forced all his fear to the surface of his mind. He felt frightened and helpless, surrounded by people bigger, tougher, and meaner than him. Pretty much the story of his life.

Now what? Ian asked.

Two blocks forward, one block to your left, Master Steve said.

Ian followed the instructions. They grabbed him from behind, took his gun away, handcuffed his arms in front of him, and pulled a sack over his head. They shoved him into their car and drove away.

He picked up enough mental images from the driver and passengers to know they were driving to the southeast side of the city. Stacy sat next to him. To his relief, she seemed okay. She was in a deep trance, like she was sleepwalking. Ian checked his inventory and found it was blocked. Nothing would go into his inventory or leave it. A function of the handcuffs, maybe.

About an hour later they stopped and Ian was dragged from the car, and marched down many many stairs into what had to be an underground shelter.

“Elevator's broken,” someone said, laughing.

“So this is 10,000 credit Stacy. Isn't she a pretty thing,” said an older, deeper voice. “Get her out of her armor. She won't be needing that here.”

“Yes sir,” said Steve. Ian heard movement.

“What about the other one?” The voice asked.

“We're going to pop him and drop him,” Alec said with a giggle.

“Fine. You guys need to improve and get those stat increases or whatever. When you're done, get Stacy to the medic, and get her checked out. If she's still a virgin, she'll be worth a lot of credits on the auction block.”

“Do you have to do this?” Ian asked.

Something slammed the side of Ian's head, knocking his helmet to the side. Something that could only be a large open hand.

“Don't talk back to me, boy!” the man said. “I'll beat you bloody.”

Ian was silent.

“We are not the bad guys here,” the man said. “We protect those girls so we can repopulate the human race as God intended. If you could protect your sister, she wouldn't be here. She's better off with us, boy.”

Whatever helps you sleep at night, you piece of shit, Ian thought. But figured this would be a good time to keep quiet.

“Get that boy taken care of. You psychic types give me the heebeejeebees,” the man said. Ian heard footsteps moving away from him. They started moving again.

Psychic types give me the heebeejeebees, Alec mind spoke, mocking the larger man.

Heebeejeebee could break your skull with his little finger. Don't piss him off, Steve replied.

After an eternity of being dragged around. Ian was slammed into a chair. His hands and legs were strapped down, with his right hand being given about six inches leeway. They removed the sack from his head.

Ian blinked away tears as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights floating overhead. His helmet hung to the side, obstructing his view. He bent over the table and used his right hand to readjust it. Looking around, he saw two older boys sitting across from him at a table. Ian guessed they were around sixteen. Behind Ian, in the small room, stood two bored looking guards. Both guards had guns pointing at him. Stacy stood to the right of Ian, her back to a gray cement wall. She looked straight ahead, still in a trance. The two older boys were good looking and dressed in suits. Three pistols, theirs and Ian's floated in the air between them.

“Alec and Steve,” Ian said. It felt strange to speak their names out loud.

“Master Alec, and Master Steve,” said the sandy-haired, freckled boy on the left. “But you're dying soon, so we won't insist on formalities.” Ian sensed this was Steve. The dark-haired boy to the right of him was Alec.

“Look, Steve, Alec, you realize we've been invaded by aliens? Do we have to fight each other too?”

“It's just the way things are, Ian. The strong lead, the weak follow,” said Steve.

“Cycle of life,” Alex said.

“We are taking over Mrs. Wilcox's little operation,” said Steve. “You are an obstacle, albeit a minor one.”

“A scary obstacle,” said Alec with a nasty smirk.

“First, we tell you the rules, Ian,” Steve said. “If you get out of line, we say the word, and our guards shoot you in the head. We would rather not do this. We don't get any experience or stat increases from dueling a dead person.” Ian's pistol was lowered to the table and placed next to Ian's right hand so the barrel pointed off to the side. “You will use your Mind Master powers, to make us pick up our guns, put them against our heads or into our mouths, and pull the triggers. We will do the same to you. You have just enough give in your restraints so that you can reach your gun and do this. Do you understand, Ian?” The two lowered their pistols to the table, so they pointed off to the side, like Ian's.

“Two against one?” Ian asked.

“Life isn't fair, Lord Ian,” Steve answered. “Oh, one thing before we begin.” He pulled out a large Polaroid camera. He stood next to Ian, and Alex joined them. They both smiled. With a click and flash, a picture came out of the camera. Steve examined the picture, then pinned it to a board on the wall, beside more than twenty others.

“One more question before we start,” Ian said. “What happened to Mathew Gruber? He was one of the kids you took. He was a fellow psychic, with a build similar to yours.”

Alec giggled. “He threatened to fuck us up, too. So we popped him and dropped him.”

“He was weak. Let's hope you do better than he did,” Steve said.

Ian felt sick. Mathew Gruber had been nine years old. He clenched his hands into fists, preparing for the fight of his life. Time to quit holding back.

Steve smiled. “If you lose, want to know what we'll do to your sister? Heebeejeebee won't let us sleep with her. He doesn't want us reproducing. But we will supervise the mating process. I'm sure she'll cry, they always do. Once she's knocked up and her owner gets tired of her, we'll pass her around. We'll have so much fun, messing with her pretty head. She won't even remember her loser brother.”

Ian ignored them. His mind was elsewhere.

“Let us begin!” said Steve.

Ian felt the two minds pushing against his. He could have kept the two psychics out of his head, but instead, he let them in and clamped down on their minds like an iron vise.

Ian gave the two boys half his attention. Screams and gunshots sounded outside the room. A loud alarm went off. Then a deafening BOOM! The guards behind Ian ran from the room, slamming the door behind them.

“Last week I told Mrs. Wilcox there was no way psychic predators like yourselves would be dumb enough to kidnap me and take me to their secret lair,” Ian said. His voice was tight and distracted, like he was a thousand miles away. Creating illusions for over thirty humans was hard work. “I never thought my idiot psychic act would fool actual psychics. Without me, our Fortress would have burned to the ground within the first month.” It felt good to tell the truth for a change. The two boys mind-fought Ian furiously. Neither understood the trouble they were in.

“Those squid monster wuffle things invaded from the next district with their zombie army,” Ian continued. “Wuffles aren't hard to kill, provided you can block their psychic attacks. Guess who blocked their psychic attacks? Me. The guy running around the guard towers at three o'clock in the morning going, 'duh I'm an idiot psychic, can I bring you some more coffee?' A week later, two troll tumtums tried to crush our fortress with boulders. Ever try getting through a tumtum's thick skull and throwing off its aim? I can tell you from experience, it's not easy. But all those kills gave me a shitload of stat points.”

The two older boys fought to move and couldn't. They were paralyzed. “You each started with a third of the gift I have. Star knights have mind-control, telekinesis, and various physical enhancements. I have mind-control and mind-attack. There are two of you, so we'd be almost equal, assuming we trained equally, but it's obvious you chose the human branch of the mind control skill tree. I almost did the same. BG didn't think to mention aliens have a lot more psychic strength than humans.” Ian felt them fighting to get free, but much as if he was arm-wrestling Heebeejeebee, they were wasting their time. “The aliens your men are shooting at are illusions. My illusions. They're shooting my fake aliens, and doing a great job of killing each other. Your friend Heebeejeebee just ate a grenade so he wouldn't get eaten alive by my fake aliens. Now it's your turn. Let's see how real I can make my aliens for you.”

Ian's two opponents watched as a ten-foot version of the dragon Ian had fought the week before entered the room, crawled past Ian, slipped under the table, and began eating the two boys, starting with their feet.

Ian felt their desperate mental pleas for mercy. The two boys screamed. Spit, blood from their nosebleeds splattered Ian. Ian smelled their loss of bowel control. The two boys felt like they were being eaten alive, somehow remaining conscious as the alien ate their legs, one bite at a time.

After what felt like an eternity to the two psychic predators, Ian gave them enough muscle control to pick up their guns, shove them into their mouths, and pull the triggers. Both were so desperate to end their suffering they did so without hesitation.

Ian sagged against the table, exhausted.

His two opponents were dead. Every Skull fighter in their hideaway was dead or dying. He'd won. He felt sick. If he'd eaten anything that morning, he'd be throwing up.

“Well, I warned you guys,” Ian said to the two dead boys.

***

Suddenly Ian found himself in the blue room.

“You killed thirty-six humans for mating rights with your sister! You crushed their peaceful rebellion! The star-knights will never bring balance to the stars now! I am so impressed! I am so proud of you!” Beginner's Guide said. She sounded so happy she might burst.

“What? That is not why I killed them, BG,” Ian responded. “You are even crazier than usual. What am I doing here?”

“I assure you, Lord Ian, Mind Master, I am completely rational. I brought you here to tell you how impressed I am. You have beaten the odds and performed far better than I thought possible. You are the best genetic match for Kid Barbie, and you have proven yourself worthy to be her mate.”

What? Yuck! “And here I thought you didn't like me,” Ian said. “You know incest is a taboo subject among humans, right? Because of the dangers of inbreeding?”

“Among human nobility, incest is normal, Lord Ian, Mind Master,” BG replied. “Human nobility is something I believe you aspire to become.”

“Those noble families inbred themselves to extinction. Hardly what I'd aspire to,” Ian said.

“Thanks to my genetic tampering, I assure you inbreeding will not be a problem,” BG said. “The combination of your gifts with hers should create a stronger, more capable human. One more likely to kill alien monsters, and not get eaten.”

BG let out what sounded like a loud sigh. “The truth is for a violently xenophobic species, you humans suck at killing aliens. I have had to bend so many rules, just to save your species from extinction.”

“So it's true. If we go extinct, you have to turn yourself off.” Ian said.

“True. Not only that, it will mean I'll have achieved none of my programmed objectives. Humans like yourselves with your crude pain sensors cannot possibly comprehend the suffering this puts me through.”

“Because getting burned alive or seeing family and friends killed doesn't hurt us humans a bit,” Ian said. “Look, BG, if you want me to do anything for you, you need to answer some questions. What is the point to all this? What are your objectives? How do us humans win your game?”

“I can't tell you that. That would be cheating, and even if I did tell you the objectives, the objectives would change,” BG said. “I can tell you this. Level six aliens are headed your way. You, and your human allies, can barely handle level five aliens. I believe you have been in mental contact with one of these level six aliens. The one you know as Kitykity.”

A horrible thought occurred to Ian. “How many levels of monsters do we have to look forward to?” Ian asked.

“I would have trouble creating a monster over level 100,” BG responded.

“Fantastic. I've been in contact with Kitykity for over five months. How do I kill the damn thing? From what I've sensed, it's smart, bulletproof, and psychic. How do I kill it?”

“I cannot tell you that,” BG said. “I am not allowed to tell you that. I would be cheating if I told you that, I have done the best I can for you. I hope you will consider this superior match with your sister.”

“Fuck off BG,” Ian responded.

***

Ian was back. The room smelled like blood, death, gun-smoke, and other unpleasant things. All this death made him sick. The humans he'd killed weren't the nicest people, but they'd been humans. Some had joined the Skulls because nobody else would take them. But they'd been a threat to him, his family, and his community. He'd had no choice. Stacy hadn't moved. She'd remained in a deep trance, despite everything that had happened.

“Stacy! Wake up!” Ian shouted. He nudged her gently with his mind. He was afraid he might hurt her. It was odd how he couldn't do what his dead opponents could have done easily. Putting Stacy in a trance and getting her to follow them took finesse. Stopping a level five alien, throwing off its aim, or creating an illusion good enough to convince thirty-six people to kill themselves and each other, took a lot of strength. Ian's two opponents had had psychic scalpels. Ian had a psychic chainsaw. That's why he'd known he could defeat them in any kind of mind duel.

Stacy woke up. She took in the surroundings. “Your nose isn't bleeding,” she said, looking at him strangely while she struggled to take in the surrounding carnage. “What happened?” She checked Ian's display. “How did you get the title Skull Crusher on your display?”

“I keep telling you, my nose does not bleed all the time,” Ian said, “and does it look like I'm crushing skulls over here? Get me out of these restraints. Then we'll get your stuff, and look for those missing kids.”