Lair by Carl Stubblefield (recommended reading TXT) 📕

“What in the…?” Gus asked in disbelief.

“If you recall, I did mention that the cotton in your clothes was used to help repair your wounds.”

“And now I’m naked on a deserted island? That kind of complicates things, don’t’cha think?”

“It was necessary to keep you alive. Most dead people are not concerned about their attire.”

“Point taken, I guess,” Gus admitted.

“Well, I’ll have to worry about getting some clothes before it gets cold. Make another frond wall as a blanket for sure.” He looked at his watch, which had survived the nanobots intact, he saw with relief. His mother had given it to him a long time ago, and she told him to never, ever take it off. It was one of those few memories he still had of her that hadn’t been affected by his extended hospitalization when he was young.

That was one of his biggest regrets; that he had lost large chunks of his memory, and unfortunately, those chunks were mostly ones that included his mom. Whenever he tried to talk about her or bring her up around his father, he was met with either stony silence or a not-so-subtle change of subject.

Everyone deals with death differently, I guess. Remembering the recent memory, he began to be unsure if his mother had really left, or it was a euphemism his father used for her dying. He had felt a little off after the whole nanobot transition, so he was unsure if he was remembering things better or if his imagination was becoming overactive. Who knows? He looked at the watch again. He had forgotten he was wearing it while encased in the suit. The time read 9:47 PM.

“Nick, what is the estimated local time now?”

“2:47 PM.”

He recalibrated the watch, thinking that getting the suit off had taken a lot longer than he’d expected. Another churn of his stomach broke his reverie; it almost began to feel like he was cramping up.

Now to cook this stuff. He could eat the egg and probably even the clam raw, if worse came to worst. Ugh. Gus decided to redouble his efforts. He stood up and looked at what remained of the suit. The main body of the suit looked flexible and had some soft polyfoam liner that supported the body.

Looking at the helmet, he surmised that it could be used as a makeshift pot so he set to work trying to disengage it from the suit. Then he could cook the egg and clam and at last have something to eat. It seemed very securely attached. He tugged to see if he could rip the helmet away but the material was tough, and even though he felt stronger, he could not rip it even slightly.

Inspecting the outside, he saw no tears or scuffs on the material, despite the crash, the long immersion in water, and his recent beach adventures. He would have to do something else.

An idea came to mind. Maybe his suit was in such pristine condition because of his passive ability. If that was true, could he work with that? It seemed like a longshot, but what did he have to lose?

He focused his attention and tried to see if he could invert the way his Wreck-less skill worked. He stared at the seam where the suit and helmet met, focusing on a small pinpoint while he tugged them apart. He imagined the material coming apart and unravelling. Nothing happened.

Still, he kept his focus on that pinpoint area on the stretched fabric. Just when he was about to give up the attempt a small dot appeared. It looked like burning paper with a magnifying glass, the small circle appearing at the apex of his focus. He slowly crept the focal point upward, tracing the border of the helmet. Small fibrils were seen unravelling and then crisping as hair does when burned. He was able to manage about one inch of a tear when he had to stop.

His eyesight became a bit blurry; a chime rang and the sharp pang of a headache manifested itself at the back of his head. Oooh. That felt like an ice-cream headache all over. It took a minute of Lamaze-like panting before he could open his eyes.

Looking at his stats, he saw that he had progressed 8% in his Level 2 Wreck-less skill. His MP bar was down to 1%, so he must’ve drained it completely, causing the headache.

Another chime sounded.

You have just unlocked the skill: Wreck-It-Gus!

Wreck-It-Gus: Some people just want to watch the world burn, and you are one of those people! Fighting against your innate nature to preserve and protect, you have gained the ability to do the opposite. With great power comes the tendency to want to cause great damage! You can now cause material failure at +50% normal rates.

100 XP awarded

840 XP to level 3

“How come the skill description is a little bit snarky, Nick?” Gus needled.

“Actually, skill names and updates, as well as quest names, are based on your own psyche. They are generated by your own subconscious, so I’ll leave you to interpret the implications…” Nick replied with just a twinge of wryness, or maybe that was just Gus’ imagination.

Taking a break to let his MP recharge, he set the stopwatch function on his watch to see just how long it would take him to recharge to full. He began braiding another coconut frond. He was able to complete that one and most of another when he noticed his MP bar was full again. Just a little over nine and a half minutes. So about 10 MP a minute. The timing was good to know. He switched again to the suit and this time was able to get about an inch and a half before the headache needled him in the back of the skull. He would have to keep tabs on that; that blurriness and distraction could be game over in a battle.

“Nick, can you set a tiny alarm to warn