Chapter 25

The descent down the shaft might have been intimidating if not for the seductive presence of the orbs beating inside my chest like a radioactive titanium heart. Not that they were literally there, but the siren song of their tantalizing power consistently leaked just enough euphoria into my veins that they might as well be, like syringe packs filled with adrenaline constantly pumping liquid fire into my brain.

In the face of such highs, why would I give a damn about something as inoffensive as a pitch black chasm descending to heaven only knows where? Familiar echoes of my former self rumbled faintly in the distance, slowly taking the shape of questions that might have once seemed important to me. How deep does this hole reach and what I would find when I arrived at the bottom of it? Would I slam into a cold cement slab at terminal velocity and end up as a pancaked mess of shattered bone and pulped flesh? Should I somehow survive the fall, how would I even make my way within the suffocating darkness without a single tool to light my steps? What if I was ambushed by a fire breathing lizard or a giant mutated rat without any weapons to defend myself? How would I outrun the pursuit of the mysterious organization out to hunt Allie and me?

Those were all very pertinent questions that would have been thundering inside my skull and paralyzed me in the vile clutches of fear and inaction before. Happily, that was no longer the case. The power of the orbs had infused not only superhuman strength, speed, and resilience into my body, but also a manic sort of confidence that I had trouble keeping a lid on. Even now, as the wind of my descent rushed past my hair and rustled against my freshly donned garments, I couldn’t quite wipe away the grin that kept sneaking back upon my lips when I thought of the encounter I’d just experienced.

Five men, trained soldiers equipped with highly specialized gear, and yet it had taken me less than a minute to subdue them all. And it had been easy, almost like taking candy from a drooling babe. I knew the old man had warned me that they were just the White Brigade, scouting units that were not specialized in combat. Still, they were professionals. Well, most of them, anyway. No matter how I looked at it, Martinez just didn’t strike me like a ruthless soldier of fortune at all.

But he still had weapons and training and friends, but in the end none of those had mattered when matched up against the power of the orb. It was an intoxicating feeling, one that I couldn’t help but revel in. I was a devoted athlete at the top of my discipline, yet within what felt like a blink of an eye, I’d gained far more raw power than years of arduous training and discipline had yielded.

“No”, I corrected myself, stabbing the tips of my elongated fingernails into the rough concrete surface of the shaft, dramatically slowing my descent. “There are hard limits which are simply beyond the reach of any human, yet with a mere nod of consent, I’ve transcended such limits by orders of magnitude.”

For instance, senses sharper than anything a human could hope to achieve told me all I needed to know about my current situation. My ears picked up the sound of the rushing current below and the fresh scent of clean water reaching my nose allayed any concerns I might have held regarding its dubious origins. I spared a momentary glance to the 5 vertical grooves I’d left upon the wall, courtesy of my hardened claw-like nails. My dark vision told me these parallel scars were at least one inch in depth, but I hadn’t felt any strain from my fingers, let alone pain. Pushing lightly against the wall, I dove straight into the water below and plunged into its depths. As a strong current dragged me deep into its roiling embrace and my heart began beating wildly, a faint shiver of uncertainty brushed lightly against my brain. The current was strong and I had never been a particularly good swimmer. That’s when I realized with a start that my lungs weren’t burning and I didn’t feel at all compelled to draw a breath. Thus, I simply let the current bear me downstream, immersed in my own thoughts.

Already, I felt like a completely different man, floating listlessly within the dark depths of this freezing current as though it were the embrace of a long lost friend. The darkness beckoned to me and something within my very soul seemed to answer the call. It was then that I knew that it wasn’t just the orb. Something had completely changed in my very nature. That’s when I recalled the vital stats update mentioned by the system before.

User Information

Greater Ghoul level 5 - Tier E

Strength: 13.6 [Base 10 + Orb 5.6 - 2 Famine]

Agility: 10.6 [Base 7 + Orb 5.6 - 2 Famine]

Resilience: 16.4 [Base 12 + Orb 6.4 - 2 Famine]

Intelligence: 9 [Base 6 + Equipment Bonus 5 - 2 Famine]

Wisdom: 9 [Base 6 + Equipment Bonus 5 - 2 Famine]

Charisma: 2 [Base 4 - 2 Famine]

Well, there we have it. I’m officially one of the undead. A Greater Ghoul, whatever that means. That was an interesting question because I could hear my heart beating, which meant I must have blood flowing through my veins. That didn’t make sense if I didn’t need to breathe, however. After all, one of the main functions of the vascular system was to distribute oxygenated blood to the cells in my body. Also, why did I feel so hungry? Why did an undead need to feed? That meant I needed to draw sustenance gained from catabolizing organic matter, yet I was already dead. The stench of death and corruption I could remember wafting from my every cell was an annoying reminder of that fact.

What was it that sustained the cells in my body and the neurons in my brain, then? For that matter, why did the zombies at the mall shrug off most wounds to the body, seemingly impervious, when a single well-delivered blow to the head or spine was enough to put them down for good? Even Pinkie, the abominable fanged fiend, had fallen prey to the same fatal flaw. Did it involve the central nervous system? Those stun blasters had done quite the number on me, turning me into a twitching wreck.

All I had were questions and vague theories, but from now on I would take special care of my delicate brain - not that I’d be inclined to do anything else, regardless. For that matter, I would have to test the limits of my Resilience soon. It was my highest attribute and it was important to know the limits to which it could be pushed and how fast it could recover.

In fact, it would behoove me to find out as much as I could about my new self, inside and out. Thinking back, I could now see that Allie had done exactly that when we first received the system, back at our house. Just recalling the scene of my lecherous eyes leering at her breasts while so much vital information lay at my disposal, absconded within the depths of the system, it filled me with a shame and anger that I found difficult to easily dismiss. How had Allie ever managed to love a perverted moron like me? What had she ever seen in me?

Well, at least that was all in the past now. I felt a depth of resolve and a steely determination that felt very unfamiliar, yet was strangely welcome under the circumstances. I was fully prepared to make a deal with the Devil himself if it meant I could find my Allie. Availing myself of all the tools at my disposal was an absolute must. This called to mind a peculiar detail about my vital data. My Strength, Agility, and Resilience had been boosted by my orbs. That much, I had expected. However, my Intelligence and Wisdom were similarly being boosted, although by a piece of equipment. This must be an incredibly powerful piece of equipment then, but try as I might, I couldn’t think of anything I had on me that could be granting me such a large bonus. After all, I’d been naked when I first woke up and even now, I only wore a shirt, pants, and a pair of boots. What was this wondrous item that practicaly increased my Intelligence and Wisdom values almost twofold? I really needed to find out everything I could about myself.

That’s when I recalled that I still had 2 skills that I hadn’t looked at. I had a vague idea as to what at least one of them did and I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. So, I looked at the other skill first.

Dimensional Pocket - level 2 [Equipped] [Rare]

Grants control over a minute rift in the fabric of space which may be used to access a flexible pocket dimension where inanimate objects may be securely stored, up to a volume of 6 cubic feet.

It’s a good thing Allie wasn’t here. Her shopping sprees were the stuff of legend, and I trembled to think what she would do if she found out I had an ability like this. As impressive as the ability was, it had a simple purpose and finite applications which I couldn't really test at the moment so inevitably, it was time to look at my final ability.

Feast or Famine - level 2 [Equipped] [Rare] [Locked]

Type of Skill: Innate - Bloodline

User must regularly use [Feast] to consume the flesh of other entities in order to draw sustenance from their material essence. This skill does not have a cooldown or activation cost. If [Feast] has not been used for a prolonged period of time, [Famine] will be activated instead. [Famine] will gradually lower the user’s mental and physical attributes until they degrade to critical thresholds or [Feast] has been used.

Effects:

Bonus to: Health Recovery [Greater], Strength [Minor], Agility [Minor], Resilience [Lesser]

Penalty to: Intelligence [Minor], Wisdom [Minor], Charisma [Greater]

Special Effect: Low chance of triggering Essence Catabolism [Rare]

Special Effect: Low chance of triggering Essence Anabolism [Rare]

Damn, no wonder I’d been feeling so famished this whole time. From looking at my stats, it was obvious Famine had gone into effect and was already dragging me down. That meant I needed to use Feast soon. I had no intentions of letting my mental stats slowly rot away until I became just another mindless zombie. Thankfully, it didn’t mention anything about needing to eat humans - that would have made my already awkward social life nosedive into an even more catastrophic new low. All the bonuses and penalties to the different attributes made sense, more or less. I was intrigued by the two special effects, however.

Essence Catabolism [Rare]

Allows the user to break down essence particles into their base elements and energy, enabling absorption and integration into the host.

Essence Anabolism [Rare]

Allows the user to synthesize base elements and energy into more complex constructs that may be manipulated by the host.

If the effects of these two special effects were as I suspected, then they were the reason why Feast or Famine was rated as a “Rare” skill. In fact, if it weren’t for the low chance of the effect being triggered, I had no doubt they’d be even more highly ranked! From what I knew about Catabolism, it was the process through which the human body breaks down compounds, like the food that entered our stomachs. On the other hand, Anabolism was the exact opposite, using simpler molecules to build bigger compounds that were needed by the body. Of course, the exact results of these two special effects remained to be seen. What if I ate 10 pounds of a lean side of beef and woke up the next morning to find I’d grown a pair of bouncing udders for all my trouble? I couldn’t help but shudder at the mere thought of Allie playing with my man-cow-teats. She’d get a kick out of that and would never let me live it down.

Well, at least it looked like I could still feel fear - though it was more like a soul-wracking dread. But then again, how could any outsider have an inkling of the full depths of depravity my Allie, the kinky little vixen, could truly sink to within the private confines of our lovemaking.

Shit, please let there be no man-cow-udders.

On the other hand, I wouldn’t mind a minotaur-sized dick. Little Kai down there could certainly use the growth spurt, not that I’d ever admit as much. In fact, Allie might not mind the change, either. Not that she’d ever complained, but I could never quite tell whether she really meant it every time she reassured me that size really didn’t matter. In fact, her insistent reassurances had only produced the opposite effect.

100% bull meat, I decided, would be my steady diet from this day onward. I pity the poor devil of a chef who dared to slip so much as a single ounce of cow meat into my meals.

Wiping away the smug grin that had tugged at the corners of my mouth just by imagining the shocked look on Allie’s face when I finally found her and pulled my pants down to reveal my ginormous new member, I had to remind myself that I had to actually find her first. This produced an uncomfortable moment where I reached within my heart with a metaphorical searchlight and wondered why I wasn’t more worried for Allie’s safety. This whole time, it had been more of a matter of locating her whereabouts, rather than making sure she was alive and well.

This was a disconcerting thought. The fact that I had no clue as to her current status other than the nationwide manhunt currently targeting her should strike terror into my heart but it simply did no such thing, much to my surprise. After all, I’m type of person who would be hollering like a madman, calling 911 and hovering anxiously over her the whole time if Allie had so much as a papercut. This current me, filled with confidence and joy as though my future rendezvous with Allie was a done deal, foreordained by the fates and stamped under the seal of the divine, he was a strange new creature that demanded careful introspection. I had to dig deep and sound out the depths of my soul until I finally came up with an answer that was disappointingly simple.

It just felt right.

I’d always been more of a creature of instinct rather than intellect, relying on gut feeling rather than cold calculation to plan my moves. And never had I been more certain of anything in my life - Allie was alive. Not only that, but she was content. It wasn’t a giddy sort of happiness that would color every cloud with a rainbow, but I could feel that she was at peace wherever she was right now. The hopeless romantic in me wished desperately that it was the unbreakable bond of our love that told me all these things, but the more pragmatic half of my brain rolled his eyes and tapped his fingernails-turned-into-vicious-ghoul-claws on the bond a summoned undead creature feels toward its mistress.

Whatever the real reason was, I honestly didn’t really care. All that mattered was that I could feel that my Allie was alive and well, at least for the time being. That would suffice until I found her once more.

This newfound awareness of my Allie seemed to blossom within my mind until it hovered just beyond the outer reaches of my consciousness. I closed my eyes within the swirling depths of the underground river and stretched out an imaginary hand, and I swear I could almost feel Allie’s own fingers nearly brushing against mine. It still didn’t give me the faintest notion of which direction she lay in. Still, it was enough for me to bask within the familiar warmth of her presence for just a brief moment.

The next thing I knew, I was being dumped head-first out of a steel pipe and down a roaring cascade that dumped the entirety of the contents of the stream I was in right into the Los Angeles River, which is far more alarming than what it might sound like at first. After all, the mighty Los Angeles River was barely more than a puddle eeking out a miserable existence alongside the industrial waste-riddled canals of the old abandoned factories in East Los Angeles city. This meant I might be taking the world record for the longest head-first dive into a shallow body of water in the history of mankind, and that was a distinction that I really could do without, all things considered.

Mercifully, the past summer had merely been a sizzling one, rather than a scorching inferno as one might expect from all the alarmists crying doom and gloom regarding the apocalyptic effects of global warming. Thus, my crash against the riverbed didn’t knock all the wind from my lungs and as a matter of fact, it hardly broke any of my bones, either. A few painful abrasions and cuts, perhaps a dislocated joint here and there, but any crash you can walk away from is a good one. And yes, I walked out of the Los Angeles River’s very shallow embrace. How far had the mighty fallen, both the river and the grumpy bastard of a ghoul who should have known better than to fantasize about his estranged girlfriend while being dragged by a current to god knows where.

Well, at least I was out, and if Grant’s ominous organization managed to track me through all those meandering twists and turns inside those winding concrete tunnels, then they truly deserved to be one of the major powers pulling the strings on a global scale behind the curtains. As it were, I fiddled with one of my shoulders before shoving it back into its socket with a stiff groan, then promptly proceeded to look for the nearest street sign that would tell me where the hell I’d been dumped.

I had feared I’d draw undue attention on my way down the street, and for good reason. The boots I bore squelched wetly with my every step, my damp clothes clung to my emaciated body, and this was at a time when your typical Angelino would be walking around with nothing heavier than some linen shorts and cotton tanktops. To my surprise, there was not a single soul within sight and hardly any cars on the road. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought it was a ghost town. But no, I recognized the familiar skyline of Downtown LA stabbing high toward the dusky gloom of the California sunset.

Most of the shops by the road were closed, with more than half of them boarded up for good and with double rows of thick iron chains wrapped around their front entrances. I stopped in front of one particularly enterprising shop, one of the very few that was still open at the very late hour of 5:30 in the afternoon. No wonder our capitalist society was coming down in flames, with shops that were usually open until 7 or 8 in the evening shutting their doors this early. I stopped by a window that displayed a wide assortment of hair extensions in more colors than I knew how to count. There were several mirrors, including a full body-length mirror that I peered into, anticipation and dread warring within my heart.

A tall, lanky man with fair skin and short-cropped black hair peered curiously back at me through the mirror. He had clearly seen better days, his cheeks gaunt and his lips chapped. Still, he had an expressive mouth and his eyebrows were straight and sharp. Given the shallow bridge of his nose and the slight slant at the corners of his eyes, he was of mixed Asian descent, which was right on the mark because my mother had been born and raised in the Golden State while my father had been Korean. Or at least that’s what she told me before she handed me a twenty dollar bill for ice cream and forever walked away from my life.

Glaring at the mirror, I straightened the slump in my shoulders and cocked my head back. Other than the damp mess of hair pasted to my forehead and the obvious outline of ribs visible through the drenched fabric of my white cotton shirt, I couldn’t really spot any signs that I was looking at an undead creature. My skin tone was a great deal paler than I was used to, but it was nothing a healthy tan under the cancer-inducing California sun wouldn’t fix. My ears weren’t pointy, my eyes weren’t glowing, and no huge slabs of flesh seemed on the verge of sliding off the bone in a rotting heap anytime soon.

As far as I could tell, there were only two major changes thus far. First were my nails, which I did spend an unhealthy amount of time staring at in fascination. They weren’t fully retractable like a hunting cat’s claws, but they still possessed the uncanny ability to elongate at will, going from looking slightly unkempt to a full inch in length in the blink of an eye. I was able to control this process at will, and I likely would have kept going if not for the staring eyes of the chubby little toddler standing at the other side of the window whose fascinated gaze I hadn’t cared enough about to avoid. That child combined with the increasing volume of my growling stomach had been enough to make me stop. I preferred to think that my ability took a physical toll on my body’s energy reserves rather than to contemplate the possibility that I might be drooling and licking my chops while eyeing a succulent little piggie standing a mere handful of feet away from my ravenous claws, separated only by a thin sheet of glass.

The second visible change was my teeth, which I’d made the mistake of briefly baring as I licked the overflowing drool from my lips - don’t ask about the saliva. Stupid people leaving mouthwatering kids unattended and worse yet, letting them wander into a shopfront as though they were a sausage shop displaying their wares. Well, one glimpse of the shining rows of gleaming teeth inside my mouth and the kid had immediately scrambled away, wailing for his mother like the boogeyman was out to get him. The self-satisfied smirk on my lips was only partly due to the kid. It was also to cover my shock at what I’d glimpsed through the mirror myself.

The front teeth were gleaming buttresses that would have made any orthodontist proud, but starting from my viciously oversized canines, the rest of my molars looked like deadly contraptions of butchery and mayhem rather than a peace-loving omnivore’s standard set of chomps. I tentatively ground them together and was pleasantly surprised at how solid they felt. There was simply no give in them, no unsettling shifting as when I’d been fully human. Instead, they were rock solid and ready to give anything they clamped down on a really bad day.

Satisfied with this cursory inspection, I continued walking down 7th Street and into increasingly deserted streets, if at all possible. The only perceivable change were several taco shops which lined up the sides of the street and the smell of burnt meat that hit my nostrils like a punch to the face. A confused look scrunched up my face as I began to wonder why anyone in their right minds would ruin a perfectly fine side of beef by charring it over a fire. Why, that drained all the succulent juices and delightful flavor away until all that was left was the stink of smoke and the taste of ashes. More than once, I found myself nearly barging into one of these shops, bloody murder on my mind as I sought to vent both the hunger in my gut and the indignation in my heart. I managed to restrain myself, barely. After all, I had a plan I needed to follow and in order to accomplish it, I hardly needed the undue attention the mass homicide of every last taco chef within LA’s Fashion District would attract.

Thankfully, the evening had fallen and no one paid another disheveled hobo a second glance. In fact, I blended in perfectly well with the desolate feel of the streets as I followed my nose to a very specific type of prey. My nose was veritably tingling by the time I turned from 7th Street to Santa Fe Avenue, down a darker alley that obviously hadn’t seen much foot traffic at all even before the fall of night. I stubbornly followed the scent, ignoring the growling of my stomach as I passed by the King Value Cold Produce and Meats Storage Company, and trudged deeper into the deserted backstreet until at long last, I heard footsteps coming from behind my back.

“Yo homie, you got a light?”

About damn time, I growled under my breath, halting my steps and letting out a frustrated sigh. How fucking hard can it be to find a damn mugger these days? I thought these streets were supposed to be rife with chaos and crime, what with the looming end of the world and all. Goes to show how lucky my Luck orb really was.

“Yo, I’m talking to you ese.”

I didn’t bother turning around, just waiting for the mugger to read his lines and get through the typical script. My hands hung limply by my sides as I took another couple whiffs. That meat storage company I’d just passed was still making my guts groan in anticipation. Not this sweaty wreck of a man walking up to me from behind though. I could smell enough chemicals in his bloodstream to nearly make my eyes water. Slurping his blood would be like gargling my throat with a mouthful of oven cleaning foam.

“You fuckin’ deaf or something, cabron? I’m talking to you.”

Suddenly, a thought occurred to me that made me panic. Damn, that could ruin my awesome master plan. Still not turning, I finally addressed my would-be mugger, whom I’d painstakingly tracked down by following the strongest scent of gunpowder and drugs I could find.

“You do have a phone, don’t you? Please tell you do. Even crackheads must have a phone nowadays, right?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, ese? You high or something? Shut the hell up or imma fuck you up, you hear me?”

I had to admit that at this point, I felt sorely tempted to try taking just a small bite. Nothing major, just a tiny chunk out of his arm or leg, just to see what it would feel like to assauge the insistent siren call coming from my guts. I mean, this was the whole reason I’d bothered to track down a mugger, right? So I could steal an anonymous phone without risking injury to an innocent citizen who would be sure not to file any police reports or speak to the authorities about a near-death encounter with a possibly supernatural predator.

Then I reminded myself that I couldn’t trust my own instincts right now. Just because I felt it would be perfectly fine and morally justifiable to wolf down the arm of the man who was attempting to mug me in a dirty backstreet of downtown LA, it didn’t mean that it was. After all, I’d nearly torn poor Martinez’ throat out if happy circumstance hadn’t intervened.

So, I blew out another frustrated breath and grumbled to myself, then whirled around while summoning my Cloak of Shadows. The shadows of the alley seemed to stretch across the grimy pavement as they clung to my shoulders, swirling in place to form a corona of darkness centered around me.

The mugger was a young man in his twenties with long black hair tied in a ponytail. He stared at me in shock while all the blood drained from his face and only after a couple seconds did he remember that he was supposed to be mugging me, scrambling to take out the gun tucked behind the waistband of his pants.

A single bounding leap that felt more like a mere twitch of my leg muscles saw me soaring forward to pounce on my victim, one hand holding him aloft by his neck while the other took hold of his wrist. Whatever my many sins might be, I was not a cold-blooded murderer, so I took pains to make sure that I merely choked my victim out instead of killing him. I was so focused upon exacting the right amount of pressure on his throat, that I momentarily neglected the grip on my other hand. The sounds of crushed bone and an uncontrollable spasm as a scream of agony struggled uselessly to scrape past my chokehold on the man’s throat informed me of my oversight. I swiftly let go of his hand but it was already too late. Fragments of shattered bone had pierced the skin at several places along his wrist, blood dripping to the floor in a steady stream.

“Damn, sorry about that,” I murmured, coughing uncomfortably. The man’s eyes stared at me in uncomprehending panic for a moment, then his eyes rolled up to the back of his head. It was as though his mind had tried to reconciliate the terrifying demon who had materialized from the shadows to casually shatter his arm and the awkward, almost contrite apology he had just received. Understandably, he failed miserably and his overloaded brain had wisely decided to shut itself down. Sometimes, ignorance was bliss.

Shrugging carelessly, I set the man down and squatted on my heels as I rummaged through his pockets. After dumping an assortment of items which included two packets of condoms, a twisted paper clip, a bottle cap, a few coins, and three rubber bands, I finally fished out his smartphone. Thankfully, a swipe of his unconscious digit unlocked the phone, and within moments I heard the ringing as my call went through.

“Hello? This is special agent Victoria Song.”

“...” Damn, she really hadn’t changed at all, even after all these years.

“Hello?”

Taking a deep breath, I braced myself and closed my eyes, squeezing the words out before I could regret them.

“Vicky, it’s me. I need your help. I’ll wait for you in one hour at the peak where the moon meets the stars.”

There was a pregnant pause as an uncomfortable silence hung between us for ten long seconds. Then I had my answer.

“... Fuck you, asshole.”

The call ended abruptly and the line went dead.

Sighing deeply in spite of myself, I crushed the phone in my hand until I fished out its mobile chip. I ground that to scrap, then turned around and walked away.

I suppose things could have gone better, all things considered.