We sat in complete silence, processing the president's sensational statement and watching the television screen, where a military orchestra played the national anthem after his speech ended.
"Holy sh..."
My brother's words were interrupted by a barrage of loud knocks on the gate outside. He looked out the window and cursed.
"It's the people I bought our communicators from. They realized they sold them way too cheap when prices skyrocketed, and after I told them to get lost, they got offended. Looks like they've come to get them back."
"Is it anything serious?" I asked my brother.
"No. Just local small-fry, the 'gofer' type, but there are serious people behind them," my brother sighed and went downstairs. "I'll go handle it."
I got up to follow him and said to my parents, "Stay here; we'll take care of everything ourselves," then hurried after my brother.
"A forceful approach?"
"I don't think so. It's still too early to be shaking the foundations of authority. Plus, everything here is on camera," he said, gesturing to the surrounding houses with their video surveillance systems.
"Igor? What's with the banging?" my brother shouted through the fence.
"Dimka..." came the voice of the arrivals. "My dear man. What you did was very wrong."
"And how is that?" my brother opened the gate, and we stepped outside the property. I silently stood behind him and crossed my arms behind my back, ready to jump in if a fight started.
"How so? You bought a product for one ruble, and now it costs a hundred. I want my stuff back."
"And what do I have to do with that? Did I force you to sell it? Besides, the communicators are already activated, so you can't get them back in any case."
The three skinheaded men in leather jackets, standing outside without hats on a January day, exchanged grim glances upon hearing the news.
"Then you owe me money. You bought the units for a hundred thousand, and now they go for twenty-five million each. I'll give you a friendly discount, since we've known each other for a long time. So you owe me another sixty million, and you can live in peace."
"Listen, Igor," my brother began to get worked up. "I already told you to get lost on the phone once, so what's changed that you and your sheep have come here? What the hell are you talking about, sixty million?"
The escalating quarrel was interrupted by the opening gate of the neighboring house, which let out a white jeep that pulled out and blocked the car of the arriving men. The narrow streets, squeezed between the properties, didn't allow several cars to pass, but that usually wasn't a problem. Since all the entrances were closed with boom barriers, outsiders couldn't get in, and there was enough space for the residents. These guys must have waited and slipped in behind a car that was entering.
A neighbor stepped out of the jeep—a well-built man in a uniform with the shoulder boards of a colonel in the Federal Penitentiary Service (FSIN). After greeting my brother and me, he asked, nodding at the skinheads, "What are these clowns doing here?"
The men, who had spotted the familiar stripes on the shoulder boards and instantly lost their swagger, tensed and froze.
"Oh, it's nothing, Uncle Valera, they're just leaving. They got the wrong address."
"Hey!" he grumbled to the scowling men. "I don't get it, what are you still doing here? Get off this private property, now. If I see you here again, you'll get a month on the bunks as a 'preventive measure,' while we figure out who you are and where you're from. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly clear, Comrade Chief," Igor replied, then added, turning to my brother, "We'll see each other again." He and his guys got into the car and drove off in reverse, scowling at us.
"So who were they?" our neighbor asked us.
"Just some local fools. I bought something from them cheap and sold it for more. They found out by accident and got all riled up because they sold it for a pittance. In short, it's not worth your attention, Uncle Valera. They must have slipped in on a whim and tried to scare us."
"Well, you know my number if you need anything. Neighbors should help each other out." He got back in his car and drove away, leaving my brother and me on the street.
"What in the hell…" I said, pointing to the window of the house. "Look at that Voroshilov sharpshooter."
Dad saw my brother and me looking at him, put away the Saiga rifle he had been holding in the window and had been aiming at the intruders, and waved at us.
"What was that all about?" my brother and I asked in unison as we returned to the house.
"Self-defense," Dad joked. "But seriously, you need to be on your guard now. At any moment, people with a rotten core, unhinged by their new abilities, might decide that it's easier to take something from their neighbor than to earn it."
The doorbell rang, and with the words, "What in the hell is it now?" I went to see who it was. The police car with flashing lights parked outside the house and the uniformed people ringing the doorbell made me slightly tense. Had they found out about the goon's corpse and come for me?
"Maxim Andreev, right?" the officer with the Senior Lieutenant's shoulder boards asked.
"Yes, that's me. What's the matter, exactly?"
"Do you know a citizen named Mezhalova?"
"Yes, we work together."
"Senior Lieutenant Vasily Anatolyevich Petrov, operative of the Criminal Investigation Department, First Division of the Police Directorate of the Leninsky District of Vladivostok," he introduced himself. "You are under arrest on suspicion of violating Article 131 of the Criminal Code of the Russian Federation: rape with the use of violence or the threat thereof." The officer stepped forward, turned me to face the fence, pressed me against it, and roughly cuffed my hands behind my back. He showed his ID to my parents and brother, who had rushed out, repeated the words of the arrest, and loaded me into the back of the car.
I bounced around in the car, trying to get comfortable so I wouldn't hit my body parts on the protruding corners, and thought hard. Anya, that bitch. What the hell is this rape thing? Why won't she just leave me alone? I desperately tried to remember what rights I had and what I could do, but my lack of experience in such situations left me with no ideas.
They took me to the station, searched me, and took my documents, which I had discreetly taken from my inventory in the back of the car and moved to my jeans pocket. Then they led me to the investigator. It was a good thing they didn't take the communicator. The previous model looked like a regular phone, unlike this one, which was in the form of a bracelet. The officers, who weren't interested in new gadgets, paid no attention to this fact, perhaps thinking it was a fancy piece of jewelry.
They sat me on a chair, took off the handcuffs, and while I rubbed my wrists, the man sitting opposite me took a blank sheet of paper from the printer, grabbed a pen, and pushed it toward me.
"Alright, start writing how, when, and why you raped citizen Mezhalova."
"I didn't rape anyone. Where did this nonsense even come from?"
"We have a statement from her," the investigator continued tiredly, apparently not for the first time dealing with a suspect who denied guilt. "There are eight witnesses to what happened, who said that you were all hanging out at a cafe, and then, after getting drunk, you went after the girl who had left and raped her in the establishment's restroom, also threatening to kill her, and then ran away, scared of what you had done. And the fact that you're on the other side of the country right now, to me personally, confirms this version. Or are you trying to say that nine people made up this story just to get you in trouble?"
It flashed through my mind that these scoundrels had planned and executed everything, probably right after I left, and I was only not detained because I had flown to Vladivostok that morning.
"I didn't rape anyone. And yes, we had a falling out with those people that evening, so they probably made this up to get revenge."
"Heh…" the officer snorted. "Yeah, right... Nine people conspiring against an ordinary guy, trying to throw him in jail. Fine, if you don't want to write a confession here, we'll transport you to the place of the offense. Silivonenko!" he shouted toward the entrance.
A huge man entered, roughly grabbed me by the shoulder, pulled me up from the chair, and once again snapped handcuffs on my wrists.
"Arrange his transport to Moscow; he'll fly on the night flight. We don't need him messing up our stats; let them deal with him at their own station. Besides, it's the holidays here, we don't have time for him."
Still not believing what was happening, I watched everything around me in a detached manner. And when they put me in the car again, and when they drove me to the airport and put me on a flight with the escorts, I still didn't believe it and thought it was some kind of joke, that everything would be cleared up and they would let me go. It was only when the plane took off that I realized it wasn't a prank.
The entire flight, I racked my brain trying to figure out what to do next, and I only came to the conclusion that if the worst came to pass and I got stuck in prison, I needed to level up my Dexterity. I would put all my free Attribute Points into it and get it to seventeen. Strength wouldn't help much in prison, and neither would Constitution, but the ability to escape or dodge would definitely save me. But then again, what would I do about the portals if I couldn't go through them? Then all the advantage I had gained with the dagger would disappear, and the others would catch up to me. These thoughts just kept circling, leading to no conclusions.
Moscow greeted us with snow lazily falling from the sky, which, judging by the trend, threatened to bury the entire city in huge drifts. The snow hadn't stopped since the New Year began, sometimes intensifying, but mostly falling lightly. The city services were working their asses off but could only manage to clear the main roads, barely keeping life going in the metropolis.
While we were flying, and then getting from Domodedovo to Butyrka Prison, I had managed to increase my Dexterity to twelve, getting terribly hungry in the process. Before, I had always eaten a lot during my upgrades, but here, in handcuffs and under supervision, that was a problem. I had only managed to ask to go to the bathroom on the plane and, taking a sausage stick out of my inventory, I ate half of it dry and choking. When I came out, the escort suspiciously sniffed the smell of the smoked meat but couldn't figure out where it was coming from.
The deep night that reigned over the city when we arrived ensured that no one really bothered to figure out who I was or where I was from, and they threw me into a solitary cell to wait for the morning and for the investigator to come to work. I listened to my surroundings, didn't notice anything suspicious, took out food from my inventory, and had dinner, finally satisfying the intense hunger that had started to gnaw at my insides. I glanced at the time—two in the morning—and I had about three hours to spare. Making an internal decision, I opened the standard portal from my communicator, intending to quickly go through it and get the experience points I needed to reach Level 7.
[Portal to a Level 6 location. Forest Meadow.]
The transition hanging before me, glowing faintly in the darkness, called me to action, and I stepped inside.
"Whew... Freedom," I exhaled, having escaped my confinement. It was only for a short time, though. I needed to quickly run through, kill everything, and get back to the cell before they noticed I was gone. I really didn't want to make my legal problems worse for no reason. I already had to figure out how to prove that nothing had happened with that bitch. Ideally, I also needed to find and hire an expensive lawyer who would tear the case apart and then sue her for slander.
The crowd of witnesses in the form of my former company would make things a lot worse, but in the end, there were hundreds of cameras everywhere, and it wouldn't be hard to track the time I arrived and then left. Their entire statement didn't hold up to any scrutiny, and I still didn't understand why they even detained me and transported me to the capital in handcuffs. Well, just give me the chance to defend myself, and that blonde star will be in for a world of hurt.
After the transition, I looked around and found myself standing knee-deep in green grass in a small clearing surrounded by sparse trees. The sun was at its zenith, and a warm breeze pleasantly blew over my whole body. This time it was an open space, and I could see our earthly star, which was absolutely no different from the real one.
The only thing was that in winter, in latitudes where it was summer, there was a completely different type of ecosystem, and the forests of central Russia were clearly not there. If it had been the jungles of the Amazon all around, then I might have thought that the portal just teleported you to different places on the planet.
"Hello, Mom?" I called my parents. "Everything's okay, I'm in Moscow. They put me in a pre-trial detention cell, but right now I'm in a portal."
"Son. What's going on? What do they even want from you?" Mom immediately started to worry, and I had to calm her down.
"It's all my ex and the other testers I told you about. I guess since I didn't give them the dagger, they made up this story and filed a rape report."
"That blonde star, she's a…" Mom couldn't finish the thought. "I'm getting on a plane right now and I'll pull out all her dyed hair!"
"Mom, wait. You don't need to do anything or rush. I'll figure everything out, and it'll be okay. You guys better get ready and try not to go into the portal without me. You got some great skills, of course, but I'm still worried about you."
"And you're saying that, a person sitting in prison? You little worrywart, you! We'll handle everything ourselves. Just tell me, how are you? Have you eaten, and what have they been feeding you anyway? Are you cold?"
"Mom, everything's fine, I ate recently, and it's summer here, so it's even hot. All right, Mom, I have to go; I don't have much time. I'll keep you updated. Say hi to everyone and pet Timosha for me," I said my goodbyes and ended the call.
I looked around again and, seeing a wooded hill with strange stone structures in the distance, headed toward it. My feet immediately got hot in my winter boots, but taking them off and going barefoot was a bad idea, so I continued to move forward, ignoring the discomfort. I remembered that the fire skill had finished learning, so I stopped, put on the gloves, pointed my hand into the air, and activated it. The five-meter-long stream of flame that burst out stunned even me, who was prepared for the sight. I certainly wouldn't want to get hit by something so terrifying; you'd be cooked to the bone in an instant, and I doubt even specialized thermal protection suits would help in that situation.
"I need to be more careful with a skill like this in enclosed spaces; it turned out to be too lethal. I wouldn't want to hurt myself," I turned off the skill and, deeply impressed, continued on my way.
The grass ahead rustled, and I froze, on guard. I was reminded of snakes, who love to lurk in the grass and bite careless passers-by on the legs. Ideally, I should get some universal antidotes for such a case. At the very least, I hoped that mutational adaptation would save me by developing a resistance to snake venom, but I really didn't want to test it. The ideal scenario, of course, would be to get a healing skill or even Regeneration, like the president's. He was definitely lucky with that skill, getting rejuvenation and immortality in one package. And flight, too. Who knows what else the system gave him?
On the other hand, I certainly have no right to complain about my abilities. In theory, I can do almost anything; the main thing is to sit down, think, and use the spell builder. And the same Regeneration with Biokinesis is quite achievable; I just need to read a couple of dozen medical textbooks.
I formed a cloud of stone shrapnel and shot it in the direction of the rustling green, mowing down a huge area of grass like a scythe, and stared at the message that appeared.
[Piglet, Level 1 killed. 1 experience point gained.]
"Oh… I think I went a little overboard with the damage." The poor piglet was scattered into mincemeat, leaving it no chance of survival, and blood and guts splattered over a radius of several meters around the area. I didn't want to step into the bloody mess and stain my clothes, so I walked around the site of the slaughter in a wide arc. It would be difficult to explain to the wardens who would come in the morning why I was covered in someone's remains.
I glanced at the time and, seeing that thirty minutes had already passed, I sped up into a light jog. Only a full-grown boar stopped me, jumping out to cut me off and freezing like a statue. But the blast of stone shrapnel that hit it in the forehead knocked its massive body over, making it fall as if it had been cut down.
[Young Boar, Level 6 killed. 7 experience points gained.]
I opened my inventory and thought for a moment. I had enough food for a couple of days, and if the prison food was bad, I wouldn't be able to develop my Attributes. I took off all my clothes, put them away, and, armed with the dagger, began to cut chunks of meat from the animal's flank. I prepared several good pieces from the tenderloin, walked a bit to the side, placed them on a nearby stone, and, activating the stream of fire, directed it forward, slowly lowering it and clumsily roasting the meat, more charring it on all sides than actually cooking it.
Yeah, grilling kebabs with a five-meter-long stream of fire at a very high temperature clearly wasn't going to work; the skill wasn't meant for that. But it would do for my emergency food supply. The main thing was that it was edible, and if I got food poisoning, I hoped Biokinesis would help.
I looked at myself, covered in blood, and was glad I had taken my clothes off beforehand. I walked away from the animal's body and used Dehydration several times in a row, then used the water that hadn't yet soaked into the ground to wash myself, scrubbing with clumps of wet grass. I repeated the cycle three more times, and after getting more or less clean, I put my clothes back on and started jogging toward the hill.
On the way, I met two more young boars, but I didn't butcher them for meat; I just dealt with them with two shots. The skill was simply amazing against ordinary opponents, not even giving them a chance to attack. I finally reached the hill and began to climb up, looking at the stone columns growing out of the ground. I reached the top, slightly out of breath, and stopped.
With a snort, a huge old boar, several meters high, began to rise from behind a stone wall that surrounded the ruins. All the other boars I had encountered earlier looked like tiny, newborn piglets next to it. It had a broken tusk on its snout, thick-bristled hide, a light steam rising from the nostrils of the agitated animal, and huge claws instead of hooves on its paws.
The stone shrapnel that hit it in the head only slightly tore the tough hide on its snout, enraging the animal and making it charge at me. The boar-boss took down the stone fence with a crash and rushed in my direction. Slightly panicked, I jumped to the side, and it shot past me, miraculously not knocking me down with its body. If such a creature hit me even once, I wouldn't have to worry about the future, and all my plans would be cut short, leaving my broken body to lie in these ruins. Or maybe it would just eat me, because with those tusks in its mouth, it looked more like a predator than an omnivore.
A stream of flame erupted from my hand and flew straight at the animal's snout. The boar's eyes burst from the monstrous heat, and it roared in pain, rushing to the side and crashing into the stone wall. The multi-ton body took down the old stone blocks and rolled head over heels on the ground, raising clouds of dust. I ran toward the animal, not stopping the fire.
The smell of burnt meat unsuitably reminded me of the kebab-grilling taxi driver, and a thought flashed like lightning about his car, the meat, and his daughter with the huge unibrow. Throwing the completely inappropriate thought out of my head, I used my second hand to start firing stone shrapnel, which was in abundance in the area, continuing to roast the squealing boar.
Another shot, which still failed to pierce the monster's hide, apparently broke the bones in its leg, and it was unable to get up, simply trying to crawl away from the insane pain. I felt incredibly sorry for the animal, but I held on to the idea that it wouldn't have hesitated to tear my body apart with its clawed paws, so I stopped the flame and went around to its side, preparing to jump back at the slightest sign of danger, and brought my hand to the boar's ear.
"I'm sorry."
The stone shrapnel flew inside its skull, scrambling the contents like a mixer, and instantly took down the animal.
[Boss of the location, Large Boar, Level 7 killed. 150 experience points gained, 100 experience points for completing the location.]
[Level 7 reached. Experience Points 64/764]
I opened my Attributes and looked at my current status.
[Level 7]
[Experience Points: 64/764]
[Attributes:]
[Strength: 10]
[Dexterity: 12]
[Constitution: 6]
[Intelligence: 20]
[Wisdom: 7]
[Free Attribute Points: 7]
[Skills: Inventory Level 2, Thermokinesis Level 2, Hydrokinesis Level 1, Aerokinesis Level 1, Pangeokinesis Level 1, Biokinesis Level 1 (1 free Skill Point)]
I looked around and saw a standard stone pedestal with a reward near the expanded portal mirror, and on it were coal-black tactical boots with thick soles.
"Well, a physical reward. It's been a while since I got anything," I was happy about the new items.
I took them in my hands, examined them, and immediately saw that they looked an awful lot like my gloves and were probably made of the same material. I tried them on and wasn't even particularly surprised that they fit like a glove. I changed back into my own boots, threw the reward into my inventory, and, giving one last look at my surroundings, I stepped into the portal, finding myself back in the cell. I glanced at the time and sighed in relief: four-thirty in the morning. I made it.
No one was running in the corridor looking for a missing prisoner, no sirens were wailing, and it was silent all around. Figuring I still had time for a short nap, I lay down on the narrow bunk, spreading the smell of fresh kebab around me. The other inmates, who were also in solitary confinement, woke up, and a hoarse voice shouted into the corridor:
"Hey, you bastards! What are you eating meat for? You're starving us, and now you're torturing us, too?"
"Shut up over there!" came a voice from the other end of the corridor. "What the hell are you talking about, kebab? Everyone's asleep. Have you gone completely nuts?"
Listening to the escalating quarrel between the prisoners, I fell into a dream where I bravely fought little piglets, then roasted them over a fire and ate them whole.