Dead Reckoning and Other Stories Page 3
Hector nodded, still half watching himself in the mirror.
"Well don't get attached to it—it's just a loaner. Hoxels like that cost a lot of Ducks. This is more like what I need."
Hector's body twisted and changed again, not quite as unpleasant as the first time because it was less unexpected, but it still blurred his vision until the transition was complete. When he could refocus, the mirror showed a very different figure. "What the hell?"
"Yes, put him on." The PimpDaddy held up his hand, cutting Hector off. "What's the problem? You don't want to do it anymore? Well, what makes you think you have a choice? Labor withdrawal? Sure go right ahead with that. Hibernation is just so much fun... of course I can. Who's gonna stop me?"
Hector stared at the revealing skin-tight gold lamé dress that struggled to contain the pneumatic, feminine body enhanced in all directions. A cleavage, even bigger than his memories of Kaydianne's, separated large mounds of flesh that jiggled without even the slightest provocation. "You can't do th-" Hector's body changed again.
This time when he recovered he was greeted by the reflection of a Nurse, though her uniform was more revealing than any real one. Another change and he saw a Nun brandishing a whip and handcuffs, then a facsimile of Red Riding hood, then a school teacher, a choirboy and finally a Donkey.
He opened his donkey mouth to protest, but nothing but a soft mewl came out. The PimpDaddy's entourage bellowed louder at every change. Hector's donkey ears turned red with humiliation and he pawed the ground with his hoof.
"So, y'all think you can work with us? I've lots of customers and I'm always looking for new talent."
Hector flattened his ears back, twisting his thick neck to shake his head.
Again the room erupted with laughter. Hector spat contemptuously and shuffled towards the door. He felt something dragging and looked down; equal amounts of disgust and embarrassment flooding through him when he discovered it was his huge phallus plowing through the dirt.
Hoots of derision erupted around him, reaching a level that made any kind of reasoned thought almost impossible. The fur along Hector's back stood upright at the burning shame, but all he could do was waddle away on all fours.
"Y'all come back if you change your mind," the PimpDaddy called. "And don't let the door hit you in the 'Ass' as you leave."
Hector pushed his snout against the door and shuffled through, suddenly on his own hands and knees in the sandy ground. He felt the now familiar itch of his hairy shorts, an almost welcome sensation under the circumstances.
***
Snap!
Hector smiled as the whip cracked against his skin. Regardless of the pain, at least it was his own skin—not an animal's hide. "I'm not a Donkey!"
"Don't be so sure. You know the drill," the Marshal growled.
Hector rushed to join the line and started singing along with the Marshal's chant. He studied his DUD:
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Tren-Hump, Hector. TH15D3AD-1485-13A6-5661A946B3101857
Cycles: 4 CPU Credit: 1% Ducks: 0.5
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At least nothing had changed for the worse. His assignments for the day seemed just as dreary as usual and it seemed like hours later when Hector shambled out into Elyzium barely ahead of the rest. Visiting the PimpDaddy had just been more humiliation. He desperately needed more Ducks so he could contact his lawyer, but so far only one thing had worked. He wandered at random until he felt the edge of weakness welling up.
A group of people clustered around a small building off to one side. Hector thought he recognized some of them from the previous day/cycle, then one groaned loudly.
"Oh look, see here. It was an accident old chap. Just one of those things." The hunter moved to intercept Hector. "Are you still put out? Really, it was all licensed. You can't go around blaming chaps over a simple accident that could happen to anyone."
"Where do I sign up?"
The man's eyes darted up and down Hector's semi-naked torso. "Frightfully sorry old man, the club is rather exclusive don't you know. Standards have to be maintained and all that."
"I mean sign up to be hunted."
The man's eyes widened. "You want to be the sport? Well, I'll be..."
"How do I do it?"
"Just tell the chap inside; he'll sort everything out." The hunter grinned and waved his arms. "I say, you chaps. This fellow is a new sport, let him through."
The crowd parted and several people let out cheers and whoops that Hector found rather chilling, even though he tried to take them as signs of encouragement. The formalities were soon done with and "the chap inside" reeled off a long list of rules and observances governing his participation.
Hector drifted off as the list went on. It was simple: the longer he avoided capture, the more Ducks he earned. "Do the people chasing me have any rules?"
"No. But this bunch." The man gestured with his thumb. "They like old fashioned trajectory weapons."
Hector grimaced as the man stabbed a large square box against his shoulder. It felt like hundreds of needles penetrating deep into his arm.
"Okay. You're tagged." The man adjusted the controls in front of him. "And you now have 120 seconds of flight and invisibility."
"Flight? Invisibility?" Hector looked down at his arms and legs. "But...?"
"Let me show ya." The man touched a metallic wand to Hector's temple. "To fly ya do this. To go invisible ya do this."
Hector felt the weirdest sensations inside him; like muscle movements but the "muscles" weren't what anyone would consider part of their anatomy. The results spoke for themselves though as he floated upwards and a moment later, his body disappeared leaving him flailing in the air. He was relieved to find that he could at least still feel his limbs and body movements even if he couldn't see them.
"To switch 'em off, ya do the opposite. Like this."
Hector's body reappeared, his pink flesh fading back into sight. Then he dropped a few inches, landing on his feet with a grunt. "That all seems okay." Hector tried to sound casual.
"Just remember. You don't wanna run out of flight while ya high up." The man laughed at Hector's expression. "It's messy and doesn't entertain anyone."
"Do I start straight away?"
"Ya got," the man glanced at his controls, "thirty-seven minutes till I release the 'hounds'. This is your waypoint; if ya get there safely you earn maximum Ducks, but don't count on it."
Hector jumped through the door, barreling through the throng. The destination was clear in his mind, as if he had a GPS to guide him. He ran and took the first corner available, the hoots and tally-ho's audible behind him. The next few corners he turned randomly; his first idea was to put as much distance as possible between him and the hunters.
Round the next turn was a market; bustling people would provide the perfect cover. He wondered if he should try and hide among them when a voice sounded inside his head.
"...no quarry shall involve parties of the third part so as to put them in danger of being injured or be hindered in their regular day-to-day activities..."
He was being monitored and of course had to play by the rules. "They don't think I'll last very long. But I'll show them," he muttered.
He sprinted into a passageway several hundred meters long. It was a perfect place to get trapped, but Hector's only alternative was to head back towards his pursuers—which he didn't think was a good tactic. He'd already covered almost a quarter of the distance to his destination. Then again, sometimes pretending to drop back was a tactic he'd often used in business—it could lead your enemy to lower their guard.
Hector wasn't getting tired like before. Despite his activity his SeePeeYou wasn't decreasing, but that was only to make the chase more interesting. He knew it wasn't for his benefit.
Halfway along, Hector started to panic. The distant toot of a horn told him that the chase was on in earne
st. Doorways lined the passage and he threw himself at the nearest, but it was locked. Feet scrabbling for traction in the dust, he tried the next with no better success.
Glancing over his shoulder, Hector saw a figure at the far end and again the horn sounded. A flash of movement, then something sliced through his upper arm. Hector yelped, instinctively clamping the wound with his hand, throwing him off balance. Another blur flashed past where his head had just been and embedded itself in the wall to his left. He wasn't sure, but it looked like a crossbow bolt; his stumble had saved him.
Hector pushed himself upright, his right hand covered in realistic gore, and darted further down the passage. He knew he was presenting a relatively easy target, but without escaping the confines of the passage he had no choice.
He was trying to judge what was happening behind him, but didn't dare look in case he tripped again. He heard a faint hiss and dived, rolling clumsily along the floor until obscured by dust. He triggered his new flight skill and invisibility, hopping on to the building roof on his left.
The move confused his pursuers momentarily and he rattled along the roof, slipping precariously on the terracotta tiles. A loud crack sounded behind him and Hector realized someone had followed him; seconds later a blaze of pain tore through his thigh and he tumbled, bouncing off the roof into a thick blanket of Boxwood.
The prickly hedge stank of old cat pee and raked his skin, but that was nothing compared to the agony in Hector's leg. A metal arrow was buried half way into his thigh, blood seeping from around the shaft. It felt like a sizzling metal rod had been driven through him.
Hector scrabbled to the end of the bushes, trying to be quiet. He knew the hunters were tracking him and he had to give them as little to go on as possible. He poked at the arrow in his leg; in movies the hero always gritted his teeth and pulled them out, though he thought he remembered reading that arrows had to be pushed through because of the barbs. Or were you supposed to leave them in to staunch the flow of blood? In reality, the blood made everything too slick to pull and pushing on it only increased the pain.
Footsteps crunched closer and stopped. "You can come out now. I know you're in there."
Ignoring the order, Hector looked around for some sliver of hope. He guessed he had about fifteen seconds of flight and invisibility left, which didn't seem enough to help unless...
Hector hobbled up to the man, drew back his invisible fist and punched the hunter hard on the nose, laughing when the man fell over. How many years had it been since he'd done anything like that? He must have been a child when he'd last been in a physical fight.
Hector started running, the bolt in his leg making it more of a painful shuffle, but he was moving. Around the next corner he found a large park; it reminded him of the "Garden of the Gods", except there were distinct formal sections partitioned off from the wilder and more rugged areas.
There was more shelter in the park and his destination was also somewhere inside it. Heading straight for the waypoint was undoubtedly the wrong approach, but his options became more limited as he got closer.
A dense thicket on his left offered cover while also minimizing weapons range. Hector limped over as quickly as he could, developing a painful neck ache from constantly looking around. Once obscured by the foliage he relaxed a little. Making it this far was good, but it would be much harder to go all the way.
He followed the bank of a broad stream; which didn't seem to fit with the dry sandy areas he could see through the foliage. Then it came to him. There was no reason for the landscape here to follow "natural" processes. None of it was any more real than he was.
Hector stopped and smiled. The stream ran in the right direction and after all it wasn't as if he could die...
Kneeling on the bank he bent down, hesitating as his nose approached the water. Before his courage failed, Hector thrust his head and shoulders into the cool liquid and inhaled.
His lungs felt like he'd breathed in molten lava and he threw himself backwards as he retched. His ribs seemed to shrink until they were two or three sizes too small and he brayed out a series of water-logged coughs. As an almost pathetic afterthought, he vomited a mixture of nothing mixed with water onto the ground.
"I say old thing. Are you alright?"
Hector recognized the voice before he could see clearly. He was caught. "Fine..." He coughed the words out.
"I'll be dashed! Never seen the sport try to kill itself before it was caught. Are you sure you're not sick?"
Hector nodded, struggling up to his knees. "Yes. Do your worst."
The man lifted a small horn and tooted a victorious trumpet. "Oh well. Tally ho chaps!"
Bludgeons, fists and feet assaulted Hector from all sides. Then the lights went out.
***
Snap!
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Tren-Hump, Hector. TH15D3AD-1485-13A6-5661A946B3101857
Cycles: 5 CPU Credit: 3% Ducks: 5.5
*MAIL*
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Hector grinned as he saw the figures; five entire Ducks, that was huge! The flashing mail sign caught his attention and he heard a voice.
"Hi, I'm Melody, I'm going to help you with your mail. You have one new message. Think 'Play' to play this message. Think 'Skip' to skip this message. Think 'Delete' to delete this message or think 'Goodbye' to exit the messaging system."
Hector concentrated on thinking "Play."
"Ya progress was 68% which normally would get ya 13.6 Ducks." Hector recognized the ChaseMaster's voice. "But ya broke rule four and as a result forfeit all payment."
Hector swore.
"Did you think 'Skip'?" Melody chimed in.
Hector swore again.
"I'm sorry, I didn't get that; please think 'Yes' or 'No'. Did you think 'Skip'?"
"No!"
"You have one old message. Think 'Play' to play this message. Think 'Skip' to skip this message. Think 'Delete' to delete this message or think 'Goodbye' to exit the messaging system."
Hector recalled the message, desperately trying to contain his anger and think the right words.
"- and so forfeit all payment. Oddly though, the hunt liked ya for some reason and awarded ya five bonus Ducks."
The grunting off-key singing of the Marshal reached Hector and he deleted the message, readying himself mentally for the tedium of Judgment. He'd earned some real money and if he could do it once, by God he could do it again. His fat fist pumped the air until the Marshal glared at him suspiciously. Just wait till Judgment was over.
The blue-white laser pulse burned a dark crater in the wall next to Hector's head. He burst from his position of cover, running as fast as his chubby legs would carry him towards the corner of the building. The air burned as shots erupted on all sides, singeing arcs that persisted on his retina as he ducked and weaved.
The decorative blocks on the building melted as a barrage of shots ripped into the wall fractions of a second behind him. But the damage was no more permanent than his injuries would be and the blocks started to re-form even as Hector glanced at them.
Hector felt a tingling sensation and jumped, the explosion from the rocket catching him in mid-air, tumbling him like a sliver of paper in a windstorm. He careened into a wall and lay stunned while his breath returned and his head stopped spinning. His gut instinct had developed through painful practice and the rocket hadn't hit him directly.
Three heavily-armored figures appeared down the block, weapons at the ready. Hector didn't understand why they needed armor; he was just as helpless as ever. It must comfort them, he decided, or help them act out their fantasies.
It was Hector's thirty-seventh run and he was developing a reputation. Some of the other Mortizens nodded to him or gave him knowing winks as they were rounded up for Judgment. Even the Marshall limited his abuse to ensure Hector was in pristine condition for the matches.
"You're a sneaky liddle bastard," the ChaseMaster said. "And the punters love it."
It was a double-edged sword. His assignments became increasingly tough, like this one. The hunting party had their choice of any weapons technology and, although Hector had been given increased limits on both flight and invisibility, just a single shot could stop him. At least he was earning enough SeePeeYoo to avoid suffering the tedium of Judgment.
Multiple flashes caught his eye and Hector saw the effervescent trails of two missiles heading in his direction. At the very last instant he triggered both his invisibility and flight, shooting vertically to escape. The explosions erupted under him, a shockwave of heat and dust tossing him around violently.
Hector checked the bearing on his target; it was that way and not very far in fact. He had a thought: he'd been catapulted much higher than he'd have gone by choice and was now on a free-fall trajectory. If he could stretch out his fall...
Instinctively he nudged himself in the right direction, providing the smallest of adjustments and slowing his fall to maximize his range. His invisibility wouldn't last either, but without it he was an easy target.
Hector started flipping his visibility on and off at random as he fell, hoping to prevent anyone from targeting him effectively.
The ground rushed up at a dizzying rate and it took all of Hector's nerve to save the last precious seconds of flight. In order to maximize his chances he'd have to wait for the last moment to halt his plunge and that would take everything he had.
An explosion burst ahead of him, gouts of sulfurous flame and smoke buffeting his face; a fraction later a second detonation sprouted behind him. The compression on both sides of his body forced the breath from his lungs and intense pain shot through his ribs. It also squirted him back into the air, like an orange pip squeezed between giant fingers.
That was all the break he needed and Hector used his rapidly diminishing flight to push closer to the target zone. He fell the last few meters, crashing into the ground and tumbling awkwardly. He felt his arm snap but struggled to his feet. Choking on the dust he'd kicked up, he forced himself on toward the target.