Apocalypse: Generic System by Macronomicon (shoe dog free ebook TXT) 📕

of loot. Directly behind them was a huge sign written in charcoal that read:

Fuck my Wife: 1 Stat potion O.B.O.

Jeb felt his eyebrows climb his forehead. It made sense logically, but the way they just went for it was astounding.

Jessica followed his gaze and froze for an instant before she snorted. “You think that’s why David was so desperate to get his hands on the stat potion?”

“Why would anybody take that offer?” Jeb asked aloud. It was a stupid decision, because a stat potion was forever, directly aided a person’s ability to survive, was likely incredibly rare and valuable, while getting laid was… much less vital.

He asked, but he already knew the answer.

Because people who think they’re gonna die make stupid decisions to feel better.

In the end, one thing was clear: These were the people to trade with.

Jeb met up with Ron and handed off the potions and lens. As he’d predicted, Ron took the geysering lens. The necromancer had considered the poisonous one for a moment until Jeb pointed out that while his zombies were immune, Ron himself still needed to breathe, and he couldn’t actually see the poison. He threw in a normal lens as a goodwill gift.

Once he was done with Ron, Jeb’s feet – foot – steered him towards the little stall run by the couple.

“Hey there, haven’t seen you around before.” The woman said with a brilliant smile. These people look like they belong on a toothpaste commercial.

“Hi, I’m Jeb,” Jeb said, offering his hand, shaking the man’s hand.

“Brett.” The man said.

“Amanda.” The woman gave her name, shaking his hand as well.

“You guys the healer/soldier couple I heard about?” Jeb asked.

“That we are.”

“I heard you two do gear repair and trading?”

“We sure do.” Jeb was graced with another sparkling smile that nearly made him wince.

Jeb mentally rolled up his sleeves.

Let’s do this.

After a short time perusing their wares and haggling, Jeb was able to get a few of the crafting ingredients he’d been looking for, including a file and saw for his lenses, tweezers and metal springs, along with a couple magic items he hadn’t seen before:

A Mystical water boiler, clothing iron, double sided tape, and wooden clothes pins that floated, holding the object in question aloft without the need for a string.

They weren’t particularly sought after, so Jeb was able to trade some of the chaff from the volcano for them, chatting with the couple all the while.

As it turned out, they were, in essence, mercantile slutty health nuts that had been tanning their cheeks at Hedonism when the end of the world happened.

They hadn’t been in the same place at the time, but they’d both correctly assumed the other had taken the most extreme option.

Jess swung by partway and had Razorback fixed.

The Soldier simply took the item and winced as his entire body was covered with what appeared to be a sunburn.

Amanda simply reached out and tapped his shoulder. Jeb spotted a spark of silvery Myst transfer between them, and the burn went away.

Razorback, in return, regained the last foot of blade that had been melted away in the heart of an obsidian golem, looking as shiny and wicked as the day they’d looted it.

“How does it determine how much ‘damage’ to do to you?” Jeb asked, making air quotes.

“I don’t know,” Brett said, shaking his head, “Just gotta kind of eyeball it. Size and how broken it is seems to contribute, and whether there are missing pieces, like that sword there. It scales inversely with my Body. If I’d tried that when we first got started, I would have gotten more than just a little toasty.”

“I see.” Jeb said, rising to his feet – foot – propping himself up with his cane, his swath of gear dangling off his makeshift belt.

“Would you...like to buy a backpack?” Amanda asked, glancing at him quizzically.

“Yes.” Jeb admitted, the weight of his loot finally making it almost impossible to balance with a pegleg.

Jeb got himself a nice big duffle bag that could fit all of his shit, slung it over his shoulder, and was halfway to an open space, mind buzzing with possibilities, when he was approached by Freeman.

“Ev’nin,” Freeman said, nodding with a toothless grin as he approached “I her’bout de bargain wit’ Ron. Were ye planning on helpin’ wit’ dat? I gotta know whether I gotta dust off the knuckles.”

“Yeah, I was going to help.” Jeb said, thinking of the noxious lens in his duffle bag. He’d already thought of a way it could help with no refining it whatsoever.

Then Freeman did something unexpected.

“Hee!”

He made a high pitched grunt, somewhere between a frustrated groan and a squee. At the exact same time a bubble of Myst expanded outward from him, covering the distance between them in a fraction of a second.

Jeb whipped his hand up, and splayed his hand wide open, reflexively deploying his right-handed ‘shield’.

The oncoming bubble of Myst traveled straight through Jeb’s barrier, and engulfed him before rebounding, imploding back in on itself, sinking back into Freeman’s body.

“Did you just…ping me?” Jeb asked, frowning.

“God-DAMN, boy, you’s loaded fer bear!” Freeman said, stumbling backward, eyeing Jeb’s ragged appearance with a raised brow. “I was gonna gi’ you tha’ speech ‘bout being careful, but mebbe I should warn the other guys!”

“What was that?” Jeb asked.

“Mah luck.”

“Huh?”

“Mama always said ‘better lucky ‘den smart’. I always been lucky. Jus’ now I figured out how lucky I’d need to be to beat ya in a stand-up fight. Pretty goddamn lucky, was the answer, sho’nuff. Well, lissen, you need help pullin in ‘dem bodies, you let Eddie or David know.”

“’Tween you’n’me, ‘dey both could use summat constructive to do.” Freeman whispered conspiratorially.

“Will do,” Jeb said, nodding.

Jeb found himself