Escape the code a scienc.., p.1
Escape the Code: A Science Fiction LitRPG, page 1
Escape the Code:
A Science Fiction LitRPG
Vaughn Gray
Table of contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Prologue
Prologue
─ • ─
In a room devoid of natural light, the glow of brightly lit monitors becomes the sole source of illumination. Each holographic screen projected a cascade of intricate data in its translucent space, meticulously arranged and floating in a sea of virtuality. Suspended on a long wooden table is an array of keyboards and control modules awaiting the touch of a skilled hand.
Within this enigmatic space, a solitary figure emerges from the shadows. Cloaked in a loosely fitted laboratory gown, his presence exudes an air of focused intensity. Hunched over the monitor, his fingers dance across the keyboard with a rapidity that mirrors the speed of thought. Each keystroke unleashes a torrent of commands, seamlessly processed by the system in the blink of an eye.
The room hums with electric energy, as the figure navigates through the labyrinthine depths of technology. His purpose, shrouded in mystery, drives him forward, his determination palpable with every keystroke. In this realm of digital mastery, he wields their skills like a virtuoso, intricately weaving their commands into the fabric of the system.
>> execute protocol_79.exe
>> Execution Failed!
"DAMMIT!" The exclamation echoed through the room, reverberating with frustration. The man's voice carried the weight of disappointment as he vented his anger towards the blinking monitors, each failure etched in their relentless display. In a fit of frustration, his fist collided with the table, creating a discordant symphony of protest. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if anticipating an answer to the man's desperate plea. Silence prevailed, leaving him bewildered and consumed by the unanswered question that hung heavy in the air.
"Why isn't it working?!" he growled, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and determination, but the monitors blinked on, seemingly mocking his efforts. It made him growl once more in his mounting anger, his eyes narrowing as he withdrew himself from the blank displays splayed out for him to see.
No. He refuses to accept his defeat. This mustn't be his dead end; there must be an alternative, a way out of this predicament.
Lost in deep thought, he paced restlessly back and forth in the room. His jaw clenched tightly, and his arms were crossed behind his head, his hands shaking in frustration. The side-to-side movement of his head conveyed the intensity of his inner turmoil, his mind racing to find a solution, any solution, to his predicament.
Gritting his teeth, he wrestled with his thoughts, searching for the elusive answer that would break through the barriers before him. Every step he took, every restless turn, mirrored the urgency of his quest. Time was of the essence, and he could not afford to let this obstacle hinder his progress any longer.
Suddenly, he paused.
Maybe I can give him a call? Will he answer?
Doubts crept into the man's mind, recalling the weight of the deal he had made. His tense shoulders pushed him to the edge, his bangs pricking at his eyes behind his glasses. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, a visible sign of his mounting anxiety.
With a slow and deliberate motion, he extended his hand towards the waist pockets of his lab coat. The touch of the cold fabric against his even colder palm sent a shiver down his spine. As his fingers closed around the flat shape within his grasp, a sense of relief washed over him.
Stage one, complete. Now, he must call them.
He retrieved his phone from his pocket, fingers deftly typing a number he had committed to memory since that fateful encounter a month ago. With the digits in place, his thumb hovered over the green telephone button on the screen, a momentary hesitation gripping him. Should he make the call? The lives of those he cherished hung in the balance, and it seemed only right to keep them informed of the progress in his assigned task.
Pushing himself to his limits, he mustered the courage to press the call button, his trembling hands bringing the phone close to his ear. The loud ringing noise echoed against his ear, intensifying the fear and anticipation that gripped him. His lips quivered, a mix of emotions coursing through him.After what felt like an eternity, the click of the call being answered brought a sense of relief. The familiar voice of a man his age filled the speakers, as if his prayers had been answered.
"Done?" The concise yet meaningful response echoed through the phone, sending a chill down the young man's spine. It felt as if he had been plunged into an icy ocean, his vulnerability exposed. The voice on the other end had a way of unsettling him, but he knew maintaining a good relationship was crucial for the safety of his loved ones.
"I... no. It's not done... yet," he replied, his voice revealing his trepidation.
An audible sigh escaped from his companion on the other end of the phone, conveying a sense of disappointment in his efforts. The sound sent a shiver down his spine once more, intensifying his unease.
Is he going to shoot them? Oh no. Oh no.
No! I can't let that happen!
With his voice lowered to a near full octave, the man spoke again, his words heavy and humorless. "You know exactly how serious I was when I told you that their lives were on the line."
The young inventor sank back into his seat, as if struck by another chilling wave. His mind was flooded with haunting images of his family members, lifeless on the floor. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, a testament to his anguish.
"I... I know that, Axel." he stammered, mustering the courage to address his companion by name. A sudden tremor of fear gripped him, worried that using this name may displease the person on the other end. "I-I mean-!"
Before he could finish his sentence, he was abruptly cut off.
"Finish your work as soon as possible. I wouldn't want to hurt your precious little sister here. She seems to be really sweet." Axel replied, his words dripping with a wicked smile that the young man could almost envision. Anger surged within him, his fists clenched, his eyes darkened, and his knees wobbled. He was willing to endure anything, sacrifice anything, but not his sister. She held immeasurable worth in his eyes. "THEY will not wait for you while you cower incompetently in fear. You will finish this in three days and if you don't..."
"Bullets are no fun to use, don't you think? I have better ways of getting what I want, when I want."
"No! Please don't-" his words were abruptly cut off, leaving him hanging in the deafening silence that followed the call's interruption. Dread consumed him as he imagined the potential danger his sister might be facing at the hands of Axel.
Feeling helpless against Axel's overwhelming power, wealth, and influence, the young inventor couldn't bear the weight of it any longer. He had only his own intellect and the program, a ticking time bomb waiting to be unleashed. If he couldn't defuse it himself in time, he knew exactly who could help him.
Determined to find a solution, he pulled himself up, using the table before him for support as his knees threatened to buckle. A self-loathing smile tugged at his lips. It was time to bring an end to it all.
Finally, he made the call.
─ • ─
Chapter One
Chapter One: Shattered Bonds
─ • ─
IN THE SOMBER atmosphere of their parents' funeral, Stevenson and his younger sister Ashley stood side by side, their hearts burdened with grief. The room, though of proper size, felt constricted in the wake of the gathered mourners, as if shrinking beneath the weight of their collective sorrow. Each face in the room bore the unmistakable expression of empathy for those left behind by the Kyles, who gathered around the siblings like protective hawks circling their prey.
They were a mix of classmates, distant relatives, friends of his parents, as well as close family friends. Each one approached Steven to offer condolences and with gestures of comfort in their own unique ways. Shoulders were patted, hugs were shared, and tender forehead kisses were bestowed upon him, including his sister, along with reassurances that everything would be okay, and they would be there for the both of them.
The polite gesture flowed from each and every mourner in the room, yet Steven's responses remained curt and distant. The weight of exhaustion settled upon his shoulders, magnified by the demands of schoolwork and the emotional toll of the funeral.
As he stood amidst the mourners with his shoulders tensed, and his eyelids drooping, the first person to approach him was Lance. Their exact relationship was uncertain, but Steven assumed they were classmates, or at the very least schoolmates. As he was often occupied with his studies and extracurricular activities, he usually doesn't know most people he met in school. Most of them are easy to forget about him.
Lance's voice carried a touch of awkward sincerity as he offered a gentle pat on Steven's shoulder, attempting to convey his condolences in such a small gesture. "Hey Steven, I know we don't talk much, but I'm really sorry for your loss. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."
"Thanks," he replied, his voice subdued. "I appreciate it."
The boy would nod his head in understanding as he raised his fist around shoulder level, offering it to Steven. "See you in class?"
A distant relative approached him next, enveloping him in a tight embrace. The relative's arms then extended to embrace Ashley too, whose tears brushed her eyes enough to make them red. Though tempted to return the hug, Steven's weary body prevented him from fully reciprocating and he stood stiff amidst the comforting gesture. Nonetheless, their embrace offered a fleeting moment of solace, providing a brief respite from the overwhelming weight of grief.
"Your parents were such amazing people when they were around. We'll always be here for you and Ashley, no matter what." she expressed, her eyebrows furrowing with genuine concern. Steven had never felt deeply connected to his own family lineage. He had always been somewhat detached, much like his father had been, or so his relatives had shared during this somber funeral gathering.
In spite of his inability to recall their identities, it brought a sense of solace to witness their presence here, reminding Steven of the significance they held in his life.
"Thank you," he murmured, his weariness evident. "It means a lot."
The next to approach were close friends of Steven's parents, familiar faces from the neighborhood who would often visit their home to share apple pies. Their own child used to play with Steven and his sister when they were younger, creating cherished memories.
The woman stood petite, while the man had a slightly chubby frame. He donned an old suit, one that seemed to have remained untouched in his closet for years. Adorning his collar was a pin, a symbol he shared with Steven's father. As they approached, the woman reached out, gently squeezing Steven's shoulder, her words filling his ears with rapport. "You know, your parents were like family to me. It's such a loss, what happened to them. I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now, but I want you to know that I'm here for you, always."
Steven's voice strained as he responded, "I know, thank you. I just need some time to... process everything."
The gestures of comfort continued as a concerned aunt approached Steven. She urged him to lean on them whenever he needed to, providing a source of peace in the midst of his exhaustion. "Oh dear, I can't begin to understand what you're going through, but please remember that we're here to support you. Lean on us whenever you need to, okay? You won't have to shoulder the load alone."
"I understand, Auntie," Steven responded, gently massaging his temples with a weary expression. Though he mustered a smile, it couldn't fully convey the depth of his gratitude for their comforting words. In his current state, he found it difficult to fully absorb their support. "Thank you for being here," he expressed sincerely.
In the midst of the well-intentioned support, Steven's fatigue and emotional burden cast a shadow over his ability to fully engage. The weight of his responsibilities and gloom stacked up against on his shoulders, leaving him in need of respite and solitude, although he refuses to take a rest until his sister would do so first.
He glanced wearily at his sister, finding solace in her presence as she sat at a nearby booth. The knowledge that they had each other in this time of grief brought him a sense of peace, knowing they wouldn't face it alone. His focus shifted away from the mourners offering their condolences, and he found himself lost in his thoughts, albeit keeping his attention on the surface enough to receive their words with murmurs of thanks.
And as the final moments of the service concluded, he quietly excused himself and retrieved two coffee cups from a booth somewhere, along with a modest repast of food.
He turned to his sister's side, settling down next to her with their loss pressing upon them. His gaze fell upon the two coffins positioned side by side at the forefront of the room, a stark reminder of the bond their parents shared throughout their lives. The sight, once a symbol of unity and love, now only served to deepen the bleakness that enveloped their hearts.
"Hey Ash," says Steven as he leveled his gaze so that his sister would be kept in his peripherals. "I brought us some... coffee and food. Let's take a moment to... gather our strength."
Ashley turns her head to look towards him, her eyes mixing sorrow and gratitude for a small, but sweet gesture. "Thanks, Stevie. You always know how to take care of the both of us."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their parents' loss hanging heavily in the air. Ashley took a sip of the warm coffee, finding comfort in the familiar bitter taste. No words were exchanged between the siblings for a moment, instead they sought some form of release in the simple act of being present for one another in such a dark day, to support each other in a quiet companionship that only siblings who have experienced such profound loss can fully understand.
As the world outside continued its ceaseless march, Steven and Ashley sat together, their coffee cups mostly untouched, and their souls entwined with the memories of their parents. In this bleak moment, they found strength in each other, knowing that even in the darkest of times, they would face the future side by side.
Ashley cradled the paper cup half filled with the warm beverage in her hands now, and Steven pretended to ignore the way she sniffed her tears away as she spoke with a softened voice. "You know, Stevie, it's hard to believe they're gone. Mom and Dad were always there for us, and now... it feels like a part of us is missing."
It was true. It felt like just yesterday when Steven eagerly called his parents to come to school, proudly presenting himself as the top student in his class. He wanted them to witness him receiving an award on stage, proving that he wasn't just a bookworm but also excelled in sports. The memory of waiting by the hallway, hands clasped together, a mix of anxiety and excitement coursing through him as he anticipated their arrival, felt so vivid. He longed for his parents to see him achieve something significant.
But in an instant, everything changed. A single phone call shattered his hopes, leaving him shaken to his core. The news of his parents' unforeseen accident hit him like a tidal wave, as if it had happened only yesterday.
There is a profound struggle within Steven, a part of him that resists accepting the harsh reality of the situation. He yearns to awaken from this surreal nightmare, to open his eyes and find himself in the comfort of his own room.
In his imagined awakening, he envisions the familiar sight of his room's ceiling, the enticing aroma of pancakes and bacon drifting from the kitchen, the sound of his father's laughter as he fetches the holographic newspaper, and his sister's voice urging him to join them for breakfast.
He desperately clung to the hope that this was just a horrific nightmare, an illusion from which he would soon awaken. However, as he gazed at his sister, a part of him yearned for something more tangible, something that would validate the harsh reality he faced. The weight of the situation began to convince him that this was indeed the hard truth he had to confront.
It was a perplexing situation for Steven. The official account stated that his parents had tragically lost their lives in an accident, a story supported by the photos presented to him by the Investigatory team from the Military Infantry Division. However, Steven couldn't shake off a lingering sense of doubt. There were traces of gunpowder found in the car, a detail that hadn't been thoroughly investigated, if not completely ignored.
This discrepancy left Steven skeptical about the information he had been provided regarding the circumstances surrounding his parents' demise. It felt as if something was amiss, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly it was. The nagging feeling of unease persisted, casting a shadow of uncertainty over his understanding of the truth.
As Steven gazed at his sister, a torrent of emotions surged within him. He yearned to share this possibility of truth, to unveil the intricate tapestry of their parents' unforseen passing, but he hesitated. The weight of such an unspoken revelation hung heavy in the air like a delicate web of secrets woven between them. He knew that revealing the unknown would only deepen the ache in their hearts, like a fresh wound torn open anew.
