LitRPG | Flash fiction

The Mission

Chapter 1 of a Web Novel, “The Gods Return”.

*Croak*

“Can you hear me, Test Subject 49?”

A mist cleared from before Froga’s eyes, and he began to look at his surroundings, blinking hard. The room he stood in was square, mostly white, but with broad scrapings of dirt and mud here and there. Unfurnished but for the metal double doorway ahead of him.

Froga realized that his whole body was tensed up. He needed to breathe.

*Breathe*

“It smells strange here. Different.”

“Correct, Test Subject 49.” It was the same voice, and it was clearly coming from somewhere inside his head. “That is because you were bred in the lab, but now you are ready to go into the field. You are ready for your mission.”

The lab.

The words prompted chaotic images to cross Froga’s mind. Liquid tanks. The faces of frogs and other creatures, some small, and others distorted and large. Bones. Vials. Syringes. A long, sparkling cable that wouldn’t come free from the back of his head, no matter how he bashed or bit at it. And at the other end of the cable…

He tried to focus. “The mission. Yes.”

“That’s right, Test Subject 49. Good. Tell me what you need to do next.”

“I need… I want…”

A vision passed through Froga’s mind. A street. Horses. Elves with bows on their back, returning from war. A tavern, singing coming from its doorway.

“I think I want elven wenches. Cat girls.”

There was a brief sigh.

“Test Subject 49, any such thoughts should be pushed from your mind. Those things don’t exist. They are a side effect of the AI that your uplifted mind is based on.”

“AI?”

“Indeed. For you are frog, even with genes from several other creatures. For your mind, we needed a program. The software of your mind was developed as part of a online game, an entertainment, but now you are a soldier. Remember this.”

“I will… remember.”

“Now, Test Subject 49 — what do you need to do?”

“I need to complete my mission.”

“Good, good. Now, press the door button in front of you. There is a long way to go, and our enemies will be on the hunt. They are relentless”

Froga stepped forward towards the door. There was a slight slapping noise as he moved, and he looked down to see his own large webbed feet contacting a very smooth white stone floor. There was the splatter of mud near the room’s edges, and also… streaks of something red.

He focused on his hands. One was resting on a weapon, a gun that was strapped across his shoulder, digging in painfully. The other was free. Froga reached out for the door button, then hesitated, trying to recall why he had such a strong desire to obey the voice in his head.

“Wait — who are you?”

“My voice will guide you on your mission, Test Subject 49. I am one of the laboratory scientists. I am your commanding officer.”

“Very good, sir.”

“You can call me Commander Jacks, if you prefer, Test Subject 49.”

*Croak*

“Sir, perhaps you can call me ’Froga’. It’s how I have come to think of myself.”

“Hmm. Very well — as you wish. Now, do you understand the first stage of your mission?”

“I’m not sure… I am not sure I do.”

Another sigh.

“Private Froga, I told you just a moment ago. You just need to call up the mission briefing, okay? And you also don’t need to speak out loud.”

“You can hear me?” Froga glanced around the upper parts of the room, and saw two security cameras, a long smoked glass panel, and a metal grille.

“Yes. But I don’t need to. Talking won’t always be practical when you are in the field. You need to be stealthy. Speak inside your mind, like I am doing.”

Froga tried speaking inside his mind:

“Stealthy, right.”

Then he used the command he had been told to try:

“Mission briefing.”

A HUD appeared on the left of his vision, and a map on the right. He began to read:

***

Mission 1:

Pass through the ruined village of Cormiston and secure the water supply.

Home base is marked with a black empty square.

Buildings along your route are marked with solid squares; those in gray are suspected to be occupied by enemy combatants or other threats. This information may be out of date.

Impassable vegetation or rock formations are marked in brown.

Your recommended route past the buildings is marked in red arrows.

Good luck, Private.

***

The map alongside showed a cluster of solid white rectangles, mostly white, but around a quarter of them gray. A number of red arrows snaked among these squares. It was clear enough that he need to go straight ahead upon leaving the base, which was towards the lower right corner of the map, and head for these other buildings.

As well as the features that the mission briefing had mentioned, there were areas marked in blue here and there.

Water?

After taking this in for a moment, Froga formulated another question.

“It said mission 1, sir. Are there going to be more?”

“There is something of absolute importance you need to do when you have made it through the ruins. But let’s just focus on surviving this one, Test Subject 49… Private Froga.”

“Very good, Commander Jacks.”

Froga reached out with his free hand and hit the square button beside the double door.

Outside. Again, Froga paused, but this time not for long. He moved on quickly, and as he did so, he was able to build up a rapid image of his surroundings using not only his eyes but the senses in his skin, too.

Stunted, half-dead trees ringed the military base that he had just left. The area nearby was a muddy wasteland, pitted with ancient shell holes, each half full of water.

Further on, between ruined buildings, straggly pine trees grew along the sides of the remnants of road. Beyond, the tops of a cluster of tall buildings could just be seen, flanked on either side by uneven rock hills that partially obscured his view.

Moving faster, Froga hit his stride; a jerky but low-effort run, his feet flapping and patting on the ancient and damaged tarmac.

*Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat.*

“Can you still hear me, Commander Jacks?”

“I will be available all of the time, Private. Or at least, most of it. Even officers need to take a bathroom break now and again.”

“Yes, sir.”

At this reference, the concept of pleasantly urinating in a tray of water passed through Froga’s mind.

Could he just do that?

No — that wasn’t right…

Then, the image of the village street with the tavern returned to him. There had been… something. A different sort of mission. A quest, that was the word. He had something other than a gun. What was it? A sword, that was it. Yes — he had been some kind of hero, the toast of the kingdom.

Wait! The commander had told him to suppress such thoughts. He must obey. He must not… remember.

The mission was everything.

Now, four buildings were just up ahead, two on either side of the road. For the first time, Froga spied movement. He slowed, both hands moving to the gun.

A band rang out, and he leaped to one side of the road, only to splash down into mud, and then thump hard against one of the stumps of tree trunks, his senses jangling. Righting himself, Froga gripped the gun, and listened, crouched low.

But he didn’t have to listen hard. Five sets of footsteps were approaching.

“Come out, monster,” yelled a rough voice. “Surrender, or die like the others.”

The phrase ‘test subject 49’ flashed through Froga’s mind.

I’m a LitRPG novelist as well as a Medium writer. Find out more here! I first wrote the piece above as a ‘chapter 1’, but perhaps it is better as a stand alone — what do you think?

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