Author's Note:
I was very flattered and encouraged by the comments on the first chapter of the story. Thank you for the feedback.
This next portion is twice as long as the first chapter. It's juicy on action and characterization, but if you're looking for something more like erotica, and less like literature, you may want to return later.
This is intended to be a story-driven tale with sexual aspects, rather than a sex-driven tale connected by pieces of story. Some chapters may not have sex scenes at all.
All aspects of the story are fictional. All characters that participate in sexual activity are over the age of 18.
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Jackson saw the first rat after he'd been walking for a few minutes. A faint squeak; a flicker in the darkness. The flash of a tail.
The tunnel was dim, but there was enough light to see. There was a sort of ambient blue glow that hazed through the air. He wasn't sure where it was coming from. The sheen of the walls, slicked with water, reflected enough of it for him to keep his bearings.
He came across a four-way intersection. His three new options all looked identical: weathered, cracked slate, marbled over with moss. He hesitated. He was still naked; he had nothing to mark where he'd been. His feet were getting cold.
That gave him an idea. There was a thin layer of moldy slime underfoot. He dragged his toes through it, pushing it aside. It created a clear patch on the stone that marked the entrance to the passage he'd just come from.
This game was amazing.
Jackson hadn't seen much of Isis, yet. Hell, all he'd done was walk down this tunnel bare as the day he was born. It was already the most incredible game he'd ever played. It didn't have the fake neon-sheen of the Hub; it was gritty. It was real. He could feel that mold on the bottom of his feet, squishy, stuck between his toes. It made him shiver.
And he could smell it, too. The damp. Dead air that hadn't moved for years. He trailed his fingertips along one wall. He could feel the bumps and creases in the stone under a film of water.
The only thing telling him he was really in virtual reality was the red health bar in the upper right corner of his eyesight. It was currently full. The spoken command 'game menu' would open up more options, but otherwise, he was totally on his own.
He turned to the right and kept walking. He heard another squeak. More rats. Well, it was just a game. What were they going to do - bite him?
He reached a door. The wooden planks were rotted out around the edges; it looked about to fall apart. He could smell something on the other side - something nastier than mold. Jackson creaked it open.
He froze. The floor inside was littered with distinctly human skeletons. The corners of the room were piled high with bones. Some of them still had bits of meat or gristle sticking to them. He put a hand over his nose.
There was another squeak, and another. Jackson looked over. One of the bone-piles was crawling with rats. He immediately considered doing a 180.
Something stopped him. Through the canyon of bones, there was another door, set into the opposite wall. The hint of flickering orange light darted under the wood slats. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what was on the other side. But...this was an adventure, right? What did he have to lose?
He approached the door. He could hear a muffled sound on the other side. He opened it slowly, trying to avoid making a creak.
There was a fire pit on one side of the room, set deep in the stone. It had burned down to hot coals. Hunched over a nearby table was something gnashing its teeth over a fat hunk of meat.
Jackson could see a long tail protruding from the thing's backside. Its feet were paws. Flickers of light betrayed a long, blood-smeared snout and wicked fangs. Bristled fur covered its body. It looked like it was wearing rags.
The smell and the disgusting sounds of the rat-man digging in made his stomach flip. It picked its current bone clean and tossed it over its shoulder. It clattered into the pile. It used its knife to cut another segment of human from the half-eaten leg on the table, then began to feast again. It hadn't noticed him yet - it was fixated on the meal.
Jackson was about get the hell out of there when he saw the spear. It was across the room from him, past where the creature was sitting. Firelight gleamed off its point. Next to it was a wooden shield and scattered bits of leather armor, most of it shredded. He spotted a dagger near the spear, too.
He weighed the risks. He'd been banished, naked, into this ancient stone maze at the bottom of what was apparently the Tower of Babel. He could go back and try another path, but this wasn't a nice place. Sooner or later he'd run into something nasty again.
He dashed forward.
The thing grunted as he ran past. Wood scraped on stone as it pushed back its chair. Jackson decided that the spear was not for close quarters. He slid down and snatched up the dagger.
By the time he'd gotten a grip on the back of the shield, the creature was facing him. Sharp yellowed nails lined its hands. It snarled at him, then ran forward. Before it reached him, it threw the bit of meat it was holding.
Jackson blocked the projectile with his shield, but he didn't see the rat man's other hand. It flashed into its rags and came out with a dagger. The weapon plunged into Jackson's stomach.
Jackson's health bar dropped a wide notch. The creature's spittle-filled growl rolled over his face. It twisted the dagger. The health bar started grinding down at a steady rate.
Jackson was more surprised, than anything. The blade currently puncturing his body felt like a strong, very uncomfortable pinch. Definitely not something he wanted, but not so bad.
Jackson casually raised his hand and plunged his own dagger into the rat's neck. It made a sort of gurgled shriek, then fell back. It twisted on the floor in pain. Its hands quivered over the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.
It clearly hadn't expected him to counter. Most people probably dropped after a dagger in the gut. Jackson reached down and pulled the weapon out of himself. His health bar stopped dropping. It was still three-quarters full.
He checked where the curved dagger had been. There was no wound, no indication that he'd ever been stabbed. He stretched his stomach. No lingering pain, either. Aside from the hit to his health, he was unharmed.
The creature was still twitching. Jackson set his daggers down and grabbed the spear. The weight felt good in his hands. He lined up the tip, then jabbed it into the rat.
The game did not spare him the brutality of his act. Where the spear struck, the rat's flesh ripped open. He stabbed again, tearing a larger hole in the creature's abdomen. Its organs burst onto the ground. He jabbed it again in the chest, and it stopped moving.
Jackson wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He was still cold, but he was sweating. He'd never sweat like that back in the Hub. Isis was different.
He ripped his eyes off the creature's innards. The smell of decaying flesh was still hanging in the room. It felt like he'd really killed something. He really had killed something.
He wanted to throw up.
