Mistrunner 2 a cyberpunk.., p.1
Mistrunner 2: A Cyberpunk LitRPG, page 1
MISTRUNNER
Book 2
Nicholas Searcy
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission from Podium Publishing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by Nicholas Searcy
Cover design by Pius Bak
ISBN: 978-1-0394-5024-0
Published in 2024 by Podium Publishing, ULC
www.podiumaudio.com
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE CLEANING UP
CHAPTER TWO DISAPPOINTMENT
CHAPTER THREE A LONG ROAD
CHAPTER FOUR HAVEN
CHAPTER FIVE BACK TO NOVA
CHAPTER SIX SQUIRREL
CHAPTER SEVEN GUNTHER'S GUNS
CHAPTER EIGHT BACK TO THE BAZAAR
CHAPTER NINE GEARING UP
CHAPTER TEN WEAPONS
CHAPTER ELEVEN FULL OF DANGERS
CHAPTER TWELVE EL PARADISO
CHAPTER THIRTEEN HOME IS WHERE YOU STORE YOUR AMMO
CHAPTER FOURTEEN SETTLING IN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN A NEW ROUTINE
CHAPTER SIXTEEN ELYSIUM
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN AFTERMATH
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN RUN AND GUN
CHAPTER NINETEEN BOILING OVER
CHAPTER TWENTY NOTHING WORTHWHILE IS EVER FREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE A DAY OFF
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO YOU SCRATCH MY BACK
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE ALL-NATURAL
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR THE BAYOU
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE BILOXI
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX SETTING THE HOOK
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN RUINING A LIFE
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT DISASTER ARTIST
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE A GRIM REMINDER
CHAPTER THIRTY THE BACK DOOR
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE ECHO
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO PLANS ON TOP OF PLANS
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE POKING THE BEAR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR GLADIATOR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE THE RED TERROR
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX CHAMPIONSHIP FIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN THE FRAME JOB
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT LONG OVERDUE
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE CAGES
CHAPTER FORTY MAD SCIENTIST
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE THE PRICE OF PROCRASTINATION
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO A PUBLIC SERVICE
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE NORTHBOUND
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR BATTLEFIELD
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE END OF THE LINE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX MIRACLES NEVER CEASE
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN MOVING ON
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT THICK OR THIN
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE PURPOSE
CHAPTER FIFTY OCTAVANGIANS
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE THE SMARTER PLAN
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO PROGRESS AND CHOICES
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE ASSAULT
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR ADRIFT
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE ARACHNOPHOBIA
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX INFESTATION AND EXTERMINATION
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN SOUL SPIKE
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT BOIL
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE THE BEST WE CAN DO
CHAPTER SIXTY THAT MOMENT
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE DISCOVERY
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO BATTLE OF THE DOME
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE DEMOLITION
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR UNIQUE ADVANTAGES
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE MARK TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX A MILE OF SHIT
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN CLIMBING THE TOWER
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT TERROR
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE IT ALL FALLS DOWN
CHAPTER SEVENTY A NEW TOMORROW
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
CLEANING UP
I gave everything to him, but he never saw me as anything but a subordinate. Instead, he gave the greatest treasure in our world to a child.
—Nora Lancaster
Iawoke to the sound of birds chirping, and it took me a moment to remember how dire my situation was. But once that realization set in, I couldn’t stop myself from recounting the events of the previous few days. My uncle—along with everyone in Mobile—was dead, and I was all alone in the world. Certainly, Pick had survived, but I hardly counted him. Despite the fact that he had recently saved my life, I knew he was next to useless in a fight. If I was going to survive—or more importantly, get my revenge—I would only be able to rely on myself. So, with that in mind, I navigated through my interface to bring up my status. When I did, the effects of the previous day’s efforts were on display:
I could scarcely count the number of ways I had improved. Not only had my modifiers seen marked gains, but I’d also opened up two new skill slots, as well. That left me with an infinite number of possibilities. On top of that, all my skills had evolved, as well. I hadn’t even put any of them to the test, but I felt like a changed person.
It only took one look down at my limp hand for me to realize that some of those changes were less beneficial than others. From my Triage ability, I knew that if I didn’t find treatment soon, I would lose the appendage. It probably wouldn’t be the end of the world or anything—I could always get a cybernetic limb that would probably be an upgrade—but I hated the idea of being forced to waste one of my slots on something like that. If I was going to get cybernetics, I wanted it to be a choice, rather than a necessity. But as I had recently discovered, I couldn’t count on always getting what I wanted.
Otherwise, my uncle and everyone else wouldn’t be dead.
With a sigh, I decided to delve into my new skill trees. First up was the generically named [Combat] that had been the result of a fusion between [Firearms] and [Close Quarters Combat]:
The skill tree was a lot simpler than the ones it had replaced, but it was also a good deal stronger. Not only were the modifiers far better, but my focus immediately settled on the various abilities in the higher tiers. Some, like Teleport and Instant Reload were self-explanatory, but others were a mystery that I would have to unravel when I reached Tier 5. And considering that it had taken me the better part of three years’ worth of focused training to reach Tier 5 in the previous trees, I suspected it would take me far longer to do the same with the new skill trees. However, I liked the idea of having those abilities dangling just out of reach; they were great as distractions and even better as motivators to keep moving forward.
After spending a few minutes inspecting the [Combat] tree, I moved my focus to the next one on my list, which was [Infiltration]. It was the result of [Spycraft] and [Stealth Operations] merging into one skill, and given that they’d always had some overlap between them, I felt that it was the most predictable fusion of them all. I opened the tree:
The modifiers dealt almost exclusively with enhancing my abilities with Stealth and Deception, but I was also very happy to see that Observation was in for quite a boost to its effectiveness. And some of the abilities looked very interesting—specifically Chameleon and Vanish. The others were a little too vague for me to get excited about.
After I’d thoroughly studied that tree, I moved on to the next, which was [Mistrunner].
It was probably the most familiar of the four trees, and most of its modifiers dealt with enhancing Misthack, Mistwalk, or Mistwall. However, I was also pleased to note that it had a combat branch, as well, which culminated in the Assassinate ability. It seemed that my class, which shared a name with the tree, was about far more than merely infiltrating various systems. If I’d had any doubts about my choice before, they quickly dissipated as I studied my new skills.
Finally, I moved on to the evolution of what I thought of as my most useful skill, [Fieldcraft], which had evolved from [Combat Utility]. I already knew that it was a unique skill that had come from my uncle’s experiences, and because of that, I treasured it even more than I had in the past. It was his legacy, and one I fully intended to live up to. I examined the tree:
Like was the case with [Combat Utility], it didn’t look like a particularly flashy tree. Some of the abilities, like Stabilize, Mend, and the entirety of the Communication branch appeared downright mundane. But that assessment was based purely on their names. From experience, I knew just how deceptive that could be. I fully expected [Fieldcraft] to become even more useful than its predecessor.
Just as I started to ponder my two empty skill slots, I heard Pick stir. I looked over to see him grimace as he sat up. Clearly, he wasn’t used to roughing it.
“Tough night?” I asked, summoning a bottle of water from my arsenal implant.
Nodding as he took it from me, he said, “You could say that. I don’t know how you do it.”
Pick was one of the few people who knew that I’d spent the previous few weeks away from civilization. For most, that would have been completely unconscionable, but for me, it seemed almost commonplace. Certainly, I knew that the wilderness was a dangerous place, but I was confident enough in my skills that I didn’t question my ability to survive. Of course, that had been one of the driving forces behind my uncle’s decision to train me.
For a few minutes, neither of us said anything while we broke our fast on ration bars and bottled water. Ho
“What are we going to do?” he asked.
“I’m going back to Nova,” I said. “After I kill the rest of the Enforcers in the area, of course.”
Not only were they responsible for killing everyone I knew or cared about, but my previous experiences told me that they were just bags of Mist waiting to add to my levels. If I stuck around and killed every one of them, there was every chance I might reach level eleven.
“Are you serious?” he asked, his eyes wide.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because! You can’t just … I mean … Those are people!” he insisted.
“They’re enemies,” I said. “And we’re supposed to kill enemies.”
It sounded harsh, even to me, but I reasoned that was just the old Mirabelle asserting herself. The one who hadn’t just experienced loss on such a grand scale. The new me, she didn’t mind a little murder, so long as she got her revenge. In a lot of ways, that new attitude brought me closer to my uncle. He’d done much the same thing just after the Initialization, and as far as I knew, he’d never really stopped.
Still, I knew everyone wouldn’t think like that. Pick might’ve been a familiar acquaintance, but he clearly wasn’t ready to participate in my planned revenge. So, I said, “You don’t have to help. I can do this on my own.”
“What about your hand?” he asked.
I looked down at the useless appendage. The tendons had been completely severed, and I knew that if I didn’t get treatment soon, I’d lose it. Already, the health indicator on my HUD, which presented itself as a silhouette in varying colors, sported a dark-red hand. That, as well as my Triage ability, told me that I’d reached dire straits.
I shrugged. “Can’t get it fixed till we get to Nova,” I said. “And I’m not going to leave and then come back. So, I need to kill these assholes before I head to the city.”
It was a simple, logical solution, but I knew there were plenty of risks involved. Not only would I run the risk of death or discovery as I waged my war against the Enforcers still in the area, but the longer I put off getting my hand fixed, the worse it was going to be. Still, I didn’t care. I’d already killed almost a hundred Enforcers, but I still felt like the job was only half-finished. I was, in a word, unsatisfied.
I glanced back at Pick, who was looking at me like I’d lost my mind. “Where do you live, anyway?” I asked. I didn’t really intend to help him get back to wherever he’d come from, but it seemed like a pertinent question.
He looked away. “Me and Remy, we lived in The Jitterbug,” he said. “Usually, we’d stay in a town or something, but that ship was the only place that ever felt like home.”
“What happened to it?” I asked.
“They blew it up,” he said. “Just before the bombardment started. Remy and me, we were fixing some of the damage from when that condor attacked, and … they were on us before either of us knew what was going on. I tried sending a distress signal, but they took us before I could get to the comms. I think that’s the only reason we survived when everyone else died. They got us before the attack, took us back to their temporary base. After that, they bombed the hell out of Mobile. I’ve never seen anything like it. I knew the moment those cannons started going off that nobody was going to survive.”
“When did they get my uncle?” I asked.
He looked away, and I could see the moisture in his eyes. “He was hurt bad,” Pick said. “One of his arms was just gone, and his leg didn’t work. But he came at them, then. I couldn’t even follow what was going on. He killed a hundred of them. Maybe more. But then … then they caught him with some kind of trap. Even after that, he didn’t go down until they’d hacked him to pieces. And the last I saw of him before they took Remy and me down to the basement of that building was him … his … head on that pike. He was still alive. I know ’cause he followed me with his eyes. I don’t know when he finally died, but we were down there for almost two weeks before you came.”
“And Remy? How did he die?” I asked.
“T-they tortured us,” he said. “They wanted to know about some fancy Nexus Implant. I didn’t know what they were talking about, but they didn’t care. Remy, he wasn’t … up for the torture. One day, when they threw him in there with me, h-he … he didn’t get back up. He just didn’t get back up.”
“Pick, listen …”
“Don’t call me that,” he said, looking up. He had a shell-shocked look about him. “Just Patrick now.”
I understood the sentiment. Pick—or Pickle—had been the name of a child, and after what he’d just been through, he didn’t really qualify for that designation anymore. I hated that he’d lost his innocence, and my heart went out to him, but there wasn’t much room in my head for anything but vengeance. So, I just nodded, saying, “Fair enough, Patrick. Do you want to come with me when I head to Nova?”
He shrugged. “Where else am I supposed to go?” he asked.
Where, indeed?
Like me, he didn’t really have a home anymore. But unlike me, he didn’t have the tools or the skills to survive on his own. I would help him, so long as it didn’t derail my mission, but the moment he slowed me down too much, I’d have to cut him loose. I couldn’t allow myself to worry about anything but the path before me. If I concerned myself with his well-being, I wouldn’t see the dangers ahead.
“Alright, then,” I stated, trying my best to sound confident. In charge. My uncle always did that. “Like I said before, I’m going to spend the next day or so hunting Enforcers. After that, we’ll head toward Nova. In the meantime, try to think about what you want to do.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You’re a pilot with no ship,” I said, taking a bite of my ration bar. “Seems to throw a bit of a monkey wrench into your future plans, I would think. So, what’s your plan for when we get to Nova? You mentioned a [Cybernetic Engineer] skill, right? Did you get it?”
