Shelter 100!

[Results of the 'DLZJ-1' Naming Vote Are In!] [1. Death — 21%] [2. Storm — 13%] [3. Skeleton — 11%] [4. Cheese Snow Leopard — 9%] [5. Burning — 8%] [...] [Based on the input of the NPC Administrator, the official designation of the DLZJ-1 has been confirmed as: Xiaguang] "Then what was the damn point of the vote?" Sixin District, Xizhou City. Standing beside the corpse of a half-man-tall mutant, I'm the Darkest looked at the server announcement on his VM screen and couldn't hold back a grumble. He had scrolled through the voting thread for ages without spotting the word "Xiaguang" anywhere. What a rip-off! Ten-Punch Superman raised a hand in agreement. "Plus one! Why not call it Storm? Sounds way more badass!" Kakarot clapped I'm the Darkest on the shoulder, grinning broadly. "You just don't get it. Split the syllables of 'Xiaguang' and read it twice." "Split it? Xia... Guang. Holy shit?!" After repeating it to himself five times, I'm the Darkest suddenly snapped out of it, crying out as if he had discovered a new continent, "Holy crap, the guy is abusing his official power to hit on girls!" Broken-Leg Kevin: "Reported!" Catching Ghosts at Graves wore a broad grin as well. "Hahaha! We definitely have to report this to the trash devs! The NPC isn't playing by martial ethics!" "Come on, who knows who's hitting on whom?" Listening to the banter among the legion brothers, Commander Spring chuckled along before turning his gaze toward the nearby subway station entrance. Decaying algae clung to the grime-smeared station sign, resembling rotting vegetable scraps stuck between a wild beast's teeth. A sickening, putrid stench drifted out from the gloomy opening, making it seem less like an entrance to an underground transit line and more like the gaping maw of a monster. The dangers inside would likely be no less severe than the downtown core of Qingquan City. Working the bolt to chamber a round, he reached up to close his helmet's visor while switching his portable deflector shield to standby mode. Fully prepared, he spoke up. "Enough shooting the breeze. Ready up for the dungeon run." A crisp, uniform chorus answered over the comms channel. "Okey-dokey!" ... The floodwaters in Sixin District had receded for some time now. The Alliance had run the megawatt-class pumps designed at Camp 101 continuously for nearly a week, finally draining the tens of millions of cubic meters of standing water accumulated over Shelter 100. Perhaps to compensate the Storm Corps for missing the server-wide event due to their bandit-clearing operation, the dev had prompted the Administrator to assign the mission of "recovering Shelter 100" to them. As everyone knew, shelters yielded the richest resources of any ruins—especially one that had remained sealed and untouched for two whole centuries! Besides the material rewards, pioneering a new shelter typically granted players the prestigious honor of entering the Hall of Fame! What was more, every player who took part in the pioneering expedition would have their name permanently carved into this future starter village! Therefore, Commander Spring had accepted the quest almost without hesitation. Strictly speaking, this hardly counted as a quest. It was practically a reward! Even with its reward-like nature, however, the task was by no means easy. While the marauders active in this area were either dead or had fled, the threat of mutants remained. Particularly in the submerged Sixin District. A vast and lethal population of arthropod mutants still roamed this sector. To ensure nothing went wrong, Commander Spring had first rallied two hundred brothers to sweep every mutant clean within five hundred meters of the subway station entrance before delving into the dungeon. And for a task that ten people could have easily handled, this guy had stubbornly crammed thirty into the party. The beams of tactical flashlights practically illuminated the narrow subway station like broad daylight. If not for the limited "combat frontage" that prevented too many people from firing side by side, he probably would have tried stuffing a thousand people down there! After clearing out a few split-claw crabs lingering beneath the station stairwell, Commander Spring tapped his helmet and barked orders. "Squad A, advance with I'm the Darkest. Squad B, follow Kakarot to provide fire support and guard Squad A's flanks. Squad C, follow me to bring up the rear and provide backup. Watch out for mutants flanking us from behind. Move out on my command." Amidst a chorus of "roger that," I'm the Darkest chimed in. "Usually, shouldn't the line be 'follow me, boys'?" Spring rolled his eyes and replied self-righteously, "Shut up. I'm the tyrannical boss here. Make it snappy!" "...Damn it!" Beaten to the punch, I'm the Darkest swallowed back the "tyrannical boss" retort sitting on the tip of his tongue and marched forward, muttering under his breath. Yet despite his griping, he recognized that Brother Spring was consistently reliable, so he dutifully followed orders, signaling his squad members to form ranks and advance. Perception-types serving as the vanguard. Made total sense. ... The actual conditions inside the subway station were far worse than they appeared from outside. After all, it had been submerged in water for a century and a half, and Xizhou City was itself a playground for mutants; finding bizarre horrors lurking down here was only natural. In truth, Xizhou Lake's flooding of the area hadn't happened in an instant. Rather, it had backed up and receded repeatedly multiple times before finally causing the complete collapse of the underground facilities throughout Sixin District. From the abandoned clothing, sleeping bags, and daily necessities, it wasn't hard to tell that survivors had sheltered in this natural haven two centuries ago. They had used cages to trap rats and other small animals, cultivated mushrooms using rotting wood and garbage, huddled in the station to escape howling blizzards and radioactive fallout drifting with the snow, and prayed in the face of despair with no end in sight. Those people were obviously not residents of Shelter 100, but survivors migrating north toward the Great Rift Valley—and since "the Wasteland Era" and "the wasteland" were terms coined only much later, the people back then could not yet be called wastelanders. Perhaps they had once held out hope. Hope that their fellow humans hiding inside Shelter 100 would take pity on their miserable plight, open the gates, and take in the freezing, starving refugees. Yet clearly. Their hopes had ultimately been dashed. They were not among the chosen group destined for the future. Right until Shelter 100 became a forgotten relic buried beneath the dust of history, that tightly sealed gate had never opened... Not even once. Boot soles made sticky squelches across the sodden concrete floor, like the whispers of the dead drifting through an abandoned graveyard. I'm the Darkest adjusted his breathing while shifting his rifle's muzzle, methodically inspecting every corner of the abandoned platform. Water drops fell from the ceiling at irregular intervals, striking the floor or splashing against his helmet and shoulders, delivering bone-chilling shivers. The occasional skittering and scraping noises drifting from the shadows caused his already taut nerves to tighten even further. Even though the swaying flashlight beams bathed the area almost as bright as day, unlit corners inevitably remained, potentially harboring unknown threats. A flashlight beam swept across an overturned vending machine, catching the colorful, oily sheen atop a patch of rotting water weeds, instantly drawing I'm the Darkest's attention. "Contact!" He raised his right hand into a fist, signaling the teammates behind him to halt, then brought his rifle up and cautiously edged two steps closer. Just as I'm the Darkest peered forward to see what the hell it was, he came face-to-face with a colorful, mask-like pattern that resembled a ghost's visage. The creature stared unblinkingly at him. A dense cluster of compound eyes was crammed tightly across its face, and its slowly parting maw revealed concentric rings of jagged, fine short teeth. Then, it spread the rounded carapace on its back, its paper-thin wings buzzing with a scalp-numbing drone. *Chzz-chzz-chzz—* "Shit!" Startled, I'm the Darkest pulled the trigger almost on pure instinct. Amid a burst of flashing muzzle fire, the basketball-sized beetle took over a dozen rounds, instantly splattering into a puddle of dark-green fluid. Hearing the sudden burst of gunfire, the Squad A members rushed in to support, followed by Spring's voice over the comms. "Old Dark, what's your situation?" "An unseen mutant. Kind of looks like... a beetle?" Fiddling with the action cam mounted on his tactical helmet, his heart pounding wildly, I'm the Darkest pulled up the footage recorded a dozen seconds earlier, swallowed his disgust, and shared it with the rest of the legion brothers. Yet their reaction took him completely by surprise. Far from puking in revulsion, they actually began admiring and dissecting its aesthetics. "That bug is pretty uniquely ugly, huh." "Plus one." "Trash devs actually put effort into this. The new map's monsters aren't just reskinned texture rehashes; they actually cooked up some brand-new stuff we haven't seen before." Listening to the chatter of these degenerates, I'm the Darkest couldn't help asking, "Holy shit, you guys don't feel grossed out?" Seeing his dead-serious expression, several squadmates cradling rifles glanced at one another, subtle expressions creeping onto their faces. "Now that you mention it, it really is gross." "Plus one. If I bumped into that in real life, I'd probably shit my pants." "But this is a game, right?" "Updating the mutant compendium even awards contribution points, doesn't it!" "..." Staring at the excited group, I'm the Darkest stood dumbfounded for a long moment. That actually... made sense? Indeed, what was there to fear from bugs in a video game? Sure, it looked weird, but in terms of lethality, it was laughably weak compared to mutants! Reassuring himself with this thought, I'm the Darkest drew a deep breath, letting his ruffled nerves settle. Right as he calmed down, Brother Spring's bossy voice crackled over the comms. "Old Dark, sample collection is on you." I'm the Darkest instantly blew his lid. "What the fuck?! Why aren't you doing it?!" Spring coughed. "You're closest... you do it." "%$#@!" Unclipping a plastic vial from his tactical vest, I'm the Darkest swallowed back his nausea and crouched down, haphazardly scooping some tissue fragments from the carcass into the test tube. That dark-green fluid looked truly foul. Come to think of it, they had been operating around Xizhou City for so long without ever seeing this mutant. Had it migrated here from somewhere else recently? Spring's voice sounded over the comms. "You found it first. Give the thing a name." "Call it Your Granddaddy Darkest!" "Haha, doubt that'll pass review. Think harder—we only get one nomination shot, you know." I'm the Darkest pondered seriously for a moment. "Ghost-face bug?" Spring: "OK, that's the one!" Generally, as long as a name wasn't overly immersion-breaking, the trash dev wouldn't exercise his veto power to reject it. As the discoverer and namer of a new mutant, the player's ID would be archived alongside the creature in the official website's lore compendium, becoming part of the game's canonical setting. Reaching ten and one hundred naming milestones also unlocked specific titles. As such, filling out the monster compendium was a popular gameplay loop in Wasteland Online, and many collection-obsessed players were deeply passionate about it. It also provided the Alliance's biology lab with an abundant stream of research specimens. With that little interlude concluded, Squad A resumed their advance toward the depths of the subway tunnels that had been drowned under lake water for nearly a century and a half. The ghost-face bugs skittering about proved to be quite a headache for the point men. Although the creatures were small, their aggression was absurdly high, and their attack patterns were bizarre. They usually remained motionless. Once prey entered their strike range, they vibrated their wings and lunged, using dagger-like stingers concealed in their abdomens to drive violently into their victims, drawing out body fluids for sustenance. While their stingers usually failed to pierce the chest plates of exoskeletons, a strike to vulnerable spots like the neck still carried real danger. Moreover, such small arthropod mutants generally possessed high stealth attributes, excelling at blending seamlessly into the environment. They could leap out of unexpected corners at any moment, offering heart-stopping surprises to the high-strung players. Though they resolved several scares without casualty, I'm the Darkest's face still took on a sickly, pale-green hue. He felt like his sanity was being drained dry by these creepy crawlies. Stepping up beside him with an LD-47 assault rifle cradled in his arms, Ten-Punch Superman chuckled teasingly. "Bro, don't tell me you're scared?" He had noticed earlier that something felt off about this guy—he was like a completely different person compared to when they were above ground. I'm the Darkest's brow twitched. "Scared? No way in hell... I just get physically nauseated seeing bugs, that's all. I'm definitely not scared." The comms channel immediately erupted into gagging sounds. "Pfft!" "You're acting tsundere too?!" "I'm gonna puke, bro." Catching Ghosts at Graves didn't join the chorus of mockery, merely clapping the man on the shoulder with a snicker. "So that means you're scared, right?" Flustered and enraged, I'm the Darkest snapped, "Piss off! You're the one who's scared! Your whole damn family is scared!" Cheerful laughter echoed across the comms. "Man, if only Battlefield Guy were here." "Plus one. That dude charges in fast, hehe." "Little Dark here is way too chicken!" Realizing he couldn't explain himself, I'm the Darkest gave up entirely, rolling his eyes at the two degenerates. "Cut the crap! Get back to your positions, shut up, and do your jobs!" Battlefield Guy had probably reached Triumph City by now. The dude was living it up who-knew-where; did they really think he had time to run dungeons with them? Besides, charging in fast was something from versions ago. Ever since leaving the save point, that guy had been even more chicken than that dog Spring! "Roger that." Accepting the eye roll, Ten-Punch Superman gave a cheeky mock salute and fell back to his combat station alongside Catching Ghosts at Graves. The brief banter lightly dispersed the chilling atmosphere. Though mutants still fluttered out from the dark every so often, I'm the Darkest had gradually adapted to the jumpy rhythm. If he wasn't sure about a suspicious spot, he fired a round first. If there was movement, he emptied a burst; if the movement was big, he tossed a grenade; if nothing stirred, he kept walking. On their own home turf, ammo was plentiful anyway. After several brief, intense firefights, the group safely crossed the security checkpoint corridor and pushed all the way to the platform. The tunnel beneath the platform was pitch-black, its trench still retaining residual water that hadn't been fully drained, reaching roughly knee-height. A derailed subway car sat jammed in the middle of the tunnel up ahead. They needed to pass through that spot to reach the entrance of Shelter 100. Glancing at the stalled carriage, Commander Spring issued orders over the comms. "Squad A, enter the tunnel. Squads B and C, provide support from the platform edge." "Understood!" I'm the Darkest glanced at the teammates beside him, shooting Ten-Punch Superman a look. Catching the cue, the latter stepped to the edge of the platform. He fired a few shots into the derelict carriage first, saw no sign of mutant activity, then emptied a short burst into the water before leaping down into the tunnel. The others hopped off the platform one after another, splashing into the knee-deep water. Filthy water soaked through their pant legs, a piercing chill instantly racing from their ankles up to their knees. Even with pain suppression active in their helmets, most players still involuntarily shuddered. Feeling the thick sludge swirling around his legs, Catching Ghosts at Graves wrinkled his nose and sniffed, grumbling over the comms, "Holy crap, this water stinks to high heaven!" Having grown numb to the stench, Ten-Punch Superman quipped, "When we get back, we'll make that bastard Spring wash our pants!" I'm the Darkest also wore a sour expression. Still, knowing the objective lay just ahead and that a little more perseverance would finish the mission, he wasted no time on chatter, simply saying, "The shelter entrance is right up front. Keep moving!" The others gathered their spirits and called back, "Roger that!" The ten-man squad pressed deeper into the subway tunnel, pushing outward ripples across the knee-deep murky water. I'm the Darkest couldn't shake the rapid pounding of his heart. The icy, foul water gave him not just a chill, but an unsettling pang of dread. How could he put it? It was far too quiet here! Just then, he noticed rotting wooden planks floating upon the shimmering water under the flashlight beams in the distance. They were tangled with decaying algae, mixed among floating plastic debris and wreckage—impossible to spot from the platform. I'm the Darkest froze for a second. Planks? There weren't even any trees around here; how could there be wooden planks? Right then, the "planks" floating on the shimmering surface suddenly vanished, only to reappear a huge stride closer to them, as if teleporting. Catching the shift with razor-sharp reflexes, I'm the Darkest's pupils dilated instantly. He raised his rifle, aiming toward that direction. "Halt!" he shouted. Almost the moment everyone froze in their tracks, he finally saw clearly how those "planks" had moved— Those weren't planks at all! They were water striders the size of hunting dogs! Three pairs of slender, long limbs rested flush against the water's surface, so flat that none of them had noticed. They had lurked patiently amid the debris and weeds until prey entered their territory, whereupon their powerful hind legs propelled them forward. Their lightweight frames allowed them to move virtually without a sound, and their tubular mouthparts radiated chilling murderous intent like spears hidden in a reed bed. This time, it wasn't just I'm the Darkest. Finally glimpsing the hidden threat upon the water, even the boldest player, Ten-Punch Superman, paled. "Holy shit! Mutant water striders?!" These creatures were not uncommon in Xizhou City, second in abundance only to battleship shrimp and split-claw crabs. Most mutant water striders lived along the lakeshore, typically around a meter long, with thick, powerful limbs spanning up to two meters when fully splayed. They carried virtually no excess fat, their hides covered in chitin-rich exoskeletons. Their primary mode of attack was kicking off to pounce onto prey, impaling victims with mutated fangs before tearing and devouring them with their forelegs. A few mutant water striders packed enough explosive force to topple a fully grown mutant beast. Thus, despite Sixin District's abundant water, forest mutants almost never nested here. Most players hated tangling with them. On one hand, their blistering speed made them difficult to hit; on the other, they yielded little meat and were inedible anyway. Unless tied to a mutant pest-control quest, hardly anyone went out of their way to provoke these troublesome beasts. "Don't these things live in shallow water... Why the hell are they roaming around down here?!" "Hell if I know! The pumps were running for an entire week!" "Maybe the ghost-face bugs drew them in... I heard water striders eat small insects, so mutant ones probably do too—" "Who cares what the fuck they eat! You're on their menu right now! Fire!" Bellowing at the top of his lungs, I'm the Darkest pulled the trigger first, tucking the stock tight against his shoulder as his rifle rattled out a furious burst toward the water ahead. Dense gunfire detonated inside the tunnel as everyone poured ferocious firepower into the mutants charging head-on. Retreating was out of the question. Those things moved across the water like lightning, while the players felt as though ice blocks were strapped to their feet, making running in this cursed place impossible. If they broke and exposed their vulnerable backs to those mouthparts, they would become nothing more than easy prey! "Squad A is engaged! Squads B and C, move up to support them!" Hearing the gunfire echoing from the tunnel ahead, Commander Spring barked orders while deploying the stabilizer braces of his Destroyer Type I exoskeleton, leveling the 120mm heavy mortar mounted on his back. Silently calculating the distance, Spring yelled over the comms, "Old Dark! Spread out to the flanks!" Clenching his teeth as he squeezed the trigger, I'm the Darkest flashed a quick hand signal to his squadmates. "Spread out to the sides!" Just as Squad A cleared the center of the tunnel, Kakarot rushed up with Squad B. With a loud splash, Kakarot dropped into the knee-deep water, set up a squad machine gun with a drum magazine, and pulled the trigger while roaring, "Open fire—!" *Rat-tat-tat-tat—!* A continuous barrage of gunfire instantly drowned out his shout. The sudden erupting firepower from the support team formed sheets of flashing tracer rain through the tunnel, slicing across the central corridor and sending waist-high plumes of spray bursting across the water ahead of Squad A. Yet the firing couldn't last long. Squad B had only poured out a brief barrage before Squad A collided head-on with the leaping mutant water striders, descending into a brutal melee. Losing his line of fire, Kakarot made a split-second decision. Slinging the machine gun onto his back, he drew a combat knife from his waist. "Charge in and help them!" The rest of the crew drew their melee weapons, letting out a spirited battle cry toward the water striders locked in combat with Squad A. "Awoo—!" Meanwhile, Squad A was locked in a bitter struggle. Though they had detected the hunters lurking in the dark in advance, the sheer number of mutant water striders had overwhelmed their firing line. I'm the Darkest felt as though a bull had rammed his chest, sending him sprawling backward into the water and nearly swallowing a bellyful of filthy sludge. Seeing its prey topple, the mutant water strider excitedly brandished its two forelegs, raising its mouthpart to plunge down. Ducking the sharp feeding tube aimed at his throat purely on instinct, I'm the Darkest drew his dagger and drove it savagely into the mutant water strider's head. With a wet crunch, pale-yellow fluid splattered. Suppressing his nausea, I'm the Darkest stabbed two more times with frantic force until the thrashing forelimbs went limp. Only then did he kick the twitching carcass away and struggle to his feet. Almost at the exact same instant, a mortar shell landed thirty meters ahead of him. The shockwave of the detonation slammed him right back into the water just after he stood. It was a napalm shell. The explosive flames were not smothered by the standing water; instead, they spread rapidly across the surface. Mutant water striders fresh from their hibernation were engulfed one after another in the inferno. They flailed their limbs amidst the thick smoke in silent agony before quietly reducing to ashes and sinking into the water. With Squad B's reinforcements arriving, the players swiftly dispatched the remaining mutant water striders, bringing the tunnel battle to a close. Hauled out of the water by Kakarot, I'm the Darkest coughed violently and immediately cursed over the comms. "Holy shit! Are you out of your fucking mind, Spring?! Using a mortar in a place like this?!" "All right, all right, good work, brother. It's over, and you fought beautifully!" Kakarot patted his back with a grin, offering brief comfort before turning his gaze forward. "Look. Shelter 100 is right ahead. We made it." I'm the Darkest instinctively followed his gaze. Beyond the sea of crackling fire, along the side of the algae-draped, filth-stained tunnel, stood an enormous metal gear. Even after being submerged for over a century, its surface remained as pristine as new, showing not a single trace of wear from the passage of time. The roaring flames reflected brilliantly against its polished surface, illuminating a prominent number stamped squarely in the gear's center. Staring at the colossal gear-shaped blast door, I'm the Darkest could not help feeling a stir in his heart. Shelter 100! They had arrived!