Chapter 16 The Black Market
Chapter 16 The Black Market
The textile factory was buzzing.
Low and monotonous, not like the wild cry of the server fans up the stair. This was the sound of production. The sound of money.
Alex was sitting on a crate and observing the 3D Bio-Printer at work. He was exhausted. Two days of four hours sleep, huddled up on a heap of server foam, and his body was a bruised peach. But his eyes were keen.
The mechanical arms moved continuously in the glass chamber. No monsters today. Just chemicals.
He had earlier raided the medical bay of the facility. Boxes of basic saline, painkillers, antibiotics. Old world first aid. New world raw material.
He threw it all into the printer and a Slime Core that he had looted off a random mob in the lobby.
RECIPE: HEALING_POTION_V1.0
BASE: SALINE + SLIME_GEL
CATALYST: MANA
STATUS: PRINTING...
Hiss.
A tray slid out. There were six little glass vials, each containing a liquid that was neon blue. The type of blue that was radioactive.
Alex picked one up. It was warm.
GLITCHED POTION (COMMON)
EFFECT: HEALS 50 HP immediately.
SIDE EFFECT: MAKES SKIN BLUE in 24 hours.
Blue skin, he said, shaking the vial. "A feature, not a bug."
He threw it into his bag pack. Old, black, tactical. Removed off the corpse of Kalu. Inside, twenty vials.
Efe, he called.
The dragon-girl sat on the top of the printer, swinging her legs. She was licking peach syrup off her thumb and had a can of peaches in the cafeteria.
"You're making drugs," she said. Now are we dealers?
"Suppliers," Alex corrected. And I must have you to watch the shop.
He got on his feet and tugged at a black hoodie that he had scavenged. Hood up, shadowed face. Dark glasses on his eyes to conceal the slight green light.
Whither are you bound? Efe asked. "Outside?"
The National Theatre, he said. There is a Safe Zone there, says Steve, a market.
"It's dangerous," she warned. The Iron Vanguard is still searching their lost squad.
"They're looking for Kalu." Alex indicated the corner.
The Proxy, Unit 03, was against the wall. The zombie had a heavy trench coat and a full-face motorcycle helmet that was stolen out of the parking garage. Silent. Still. Built like a wall.
Kalu is going with me, Alex said. No one plays with a guy who has a Level 6 bodyguard.
The National Theatre was a fortress.
The military hat-shaped iconic building was located behind improvised walls of smashed cars and barbed wire. The perimeter was guarded by armed guards. The Nigerian flag was fluttering on the roof, ragged as it was.
Alex walked up to the main gate. Hooded skinny guy, limping. The Proxy, silent and big, behind him.
"Halt!" One of the guards lifted an assault rifle. "Entry fee is one Monster Core. Or ten hours of labor."
Alex flicked a Termite Core at the man without saying anything, and reached into his pocket.
The guard caught it. Stared at it. "Level 5 core? You serious?"
Alex nodded.
"Go in." The guard stepped aside. "No trouble."
The theatre was anarchy within.
The main lobby had been turned into a market. The stalls were made of cardboard and wooden pallets. Shouts, exchanges, pushing. The smell struck first. Bodies that are not washed and roasting rat meat.
"Sword! Level 2 Iron Sword! Trade for food!"
"Information! Map of the Island! Two cores!"
Alex pushed his way through the crowd with his head bowed. The Proxy came behind, making a way by being.
He discovered a vacant place by a pillar. Laid aside his pack. No shouting. No sign.
He took three blue vials and put them on the bag.
The radiance did the rest.
"What's that?" One of the men advanced. Without an ear, bandaged through with old blood. "Mana water?"
Healing potion, said Alex. Low, rough, voice. "Instant."
"Bullshit." The man scoffed. "Potions are rare drops. You want me to think a street rat has three of them?
Test it, said Alex.
He threw a vial away.
The man caught it. Looked around. Then, caution yielding to pain, he uncorked it and drank.
The impact was swift.
He gasped. His bloody bandages on the head began to smoke. He ripped them off. The cut in which his ear had been closed, new pink skin growing over the opening in a few seconds.
Holy shit, the man said. "It works."
Then he grew blue-faced.
Bright, full Smurf-blue.
The mob fell silent. Then someone laughed.
What did you do to me?!" the man screamed, and both hands to his face.
Side effect, Alex said. "Fades in a day. You would rather be blue, or you would rather bleed to death?
The man felt his healed skin. He stared at Alex as though he were gazing at something he had no classification of.
How much, he said.
One Level 5 Core, said Alex. Or five Level 1 Cores. Per bottle.
Silence.
That was cheap. Insanely cheap. A curative drink on the System Market was ten times more expensive.
"I'll take two!"
"Me! I have cores!"
Shut up, I was here first!
The mob surged. Alex stood his ground. He took the cores as they were hurled at him, one after another, without a look on his face.
It was a miracle drug to them.
It was saltwater and slime to him.
He would be a wealthy man.