204 Static in the Head [Vibe]
204 Static in the Head [Vibe]
I blinked myself awake, vision swimming as the ceiling lights buzzed faintly overhead. For a few seconds, I didn’t move, letting the disorientation settle while my thoughts tried to line themselves back up. Something was missing. Not a memory exactly, more like a skipped beat in a song I knew well enough to notice the silence.
Then I looked down.
There was a dead NPC at my feet. No, two of them, if I counted the one slumped farther back in the room, half-hidden by a desk. Blood stained the tiles in dark, tacky patterns, already starting to lose their sheen as the system deprioritized the scene. I frowned, trying to recall the moment of the kill, the decision, the motion. It should have been easy. This was my job.
Right. Urbanite General Hospital. High-priority NPCs.
The memory slid back into place with an uncomfortable smoothness. I was here to deal with the most important NPCs in the building, the ones tied directly to the cancer cure’s data chain. My sisters should have been in the basement by now, breaking through whatever safeguards protected the real prize. I had been left topside to handle cleanup, to make sure no one else got clever ideas.
According to our intel, this hospital only had two high-functioning NPCs capable of triggering escalation protocols. I had waited for the second one to appear so I could erase them both in quick succession. This floor was rarely visited by players anyway, locked behind progression prerequisites and reputation flags, so it would take time before anyone noticed something was wrong.
That time mattered.
Foresthome and the Kingdom already knew our matriarch was sick. Cancer, aggressive and stubborn, something even her powers could only suppress for so long. She hid it well, but power always had a cost, and even the strongest of us had limits. This cure wasn’t optional. It was survival.
Still, as I stepped over the bodies and headed for the door, a question gnawed at me. Why had Urbanite made this so easy? Gameboy hadn’t said anything outright, but the implication was obvious. A lure this obvious should have come with teeth, with ambushes and layered traps, not silence.
I rode the elevator down alone, the hum of its cables vibrating faintly through my boots. NPCs ignored me when the doors opened onto the lobby, their eyes sliding past as if I were part of the décor. Good. The pills worked, at least well enough. Modified versions of Foresthome’s infiltration tech based on Urbanite, tuned by our matriarch to avoid whatever backdoors the Divine Forest King liked to hide in the pills.
As I leaned against a column and waited, a different kind of discomfort crept in. Heat, low and persistent, curling in my gut.
“I’m feeling horny, damn it…”
Ugh. Great.
Candyland was starved of good men, and everyone knew it. An all-women community on paper, though that wasn’t entirely true. Men existed, but they were pushed into roles no one with pride would want, servants and breeders dressed up as tradition. It worked for most of my sisters.
Not for me.
I liked my men rough, unpolished, the kind who didn’t need permission to take up space. Someone who would push back instead of folding. It was an inconvenient preference in a place like Candyland, and I’d learned to live with the frustration.
I tucked myself deeper into the corner of the lobby, letting my presence fade while I listened.
Sound came to me the way light did to others, layering itself into meaning. Footsteps echoed faintly through the building, four distinct patterns I knew well. My mouth curved into a small smile before I even saw them.
They emerged together, just as my senses had promised.
Two-D led the group, blonde hair pulled back, posture loose in that way only someone who could phase out of danger ever really managed. Terra followed close behind, solid and grounded as always, dark hair tied low, eyes scanning for structural weaknesses out of habit. Elena walked beside her, expression distant, gaze unfocused in the telltale way of a telepath sorting through surface thoughts. Halo brought up the rear, silver hair catching the lobby lights, photons bending subtly around her like she couldn’t help but glow.
I waved, stepping out of hiding. “You’re alive,” I called, keeping my voice light. “So I’m guessing it went well?”
Two-D snorted. “Basement was a mess, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”
Terra nodded once. “We’ve got what we came for, assuming the data’s legit.”
I turned to Elena, expecting her usual dry confirmation. Instead, she slowed, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at me, really looked this time. Her brow furrowed, fingers twitching at her side.
“…Vibe,” she said carefully, “did something happen to you?”
I raised a brow at Elena and tilted my head, forcing a crooked smile.
“Be honest,” I said lightly. “Did I suddenly get way prettier, or are you just finally noticing?”
Elena snorted and didn’t even bother looking at me.
“Fuck off, Vibe.”
Before I could fire back, Two-D’s voice cut through the space, sharp and authoritative.
“That’s enough. Stop the bickering.”
I shut my mouth immediately. Everyone did. Two-D had that effect on people. She stood with her shoulders squared and her posture relaxed, radiating confidence without trying. It wasn’t just her presence or her looks, though she had both in overwhelming abundance. It was the way she carried responsibility like it belonged to her. If there was anyone here I genuinely respected, it was her.
“We’ve secured the mission objective,” Two-D continued. “There’s no reason to linger. We’re leaving. Now.”
Terra yawned loudly, stretching her arms over her head.
“Good,” she said. “I was getting bored anyway.”
Elena moved first, heading straight for the entrance with purpose. She reached the door and grabbed the handle, twisting it once, then again. Her brow furrowed.
“…It’s not opening.”
She tried harder, testing the lock, then leaned her shoulder into it. The door didn’t budge an inch.
“That’s not funny,” Elena muttered.
Before anyone could respond, my vision exploded into cascading light and the same must be happening to the others, judging by there stunned expression. A massive system interface slammed itself into my sight, lines of text stacking over one another in bright, obnoxious colors.
[Welcome, challengers!]
My heart skipped.
Two-D reacted instantly. “Formation Z. Back to back. Now.”
We moved on instinct, powers aligning as we formed a tight circle. The interface continued, utterly unconcerned with our readiness.
[It is me! The master of Urbanite, Gameboy!]
The text jittered as if bouncing with excitement.
[Yeah, yeah, I know. Big name. Bigger brain. But what’s the occasion for me to grace you all with my presence?]
A pause followed, dramatic and artificial.
[Of course, it’s for a game!]
My jaw tightened.
[Here are the rules! There are capes from three factions currently present in this hospital: Urbanite, Candyland, and Foresthome!]
Numbers flashed into existence, glowing and merciless.
[Urbanite — 132]
[Candyland — 5]
[Foresthome — 1]
Halo swallowed audibly.
“…We’re screwed.”
She let out a weak laugh a second later, forcing humor into her voice.
“Though, uh… not as screwed as that poor bastard from Foresthome.”
No one laughed.
[The rules are simple! A battle royale!]
The words pulsed, almost vibrating.
[Last faction standing wins! And the reward?]
A pause followed, theatrical and deliberate.
[Your lives! Hah! Just kidding. Mostly.]
Another beat, then the interface flared brighter.
[How about one million points!? Yeah, that sounds fun!]
Points. Everything in Urbanite revolved around points. I didn’t know the exact exchange rate of greed here, but judging by the way players behaved over scraps of currency, a number that large was enough to turn this place into a slaughterhouse.
Footsteps echoed from the left corridor.
A man in a bondage outfit stumbled into view, flanked by several Urbanite players armed with glowing weapons and crude smiles. His eyes dragged over us in a way that made my skin crawl.
“Ohhh,” he yelled, laughing. “Didn’t expect such pretty ladies!”
Elena spat on the floor.
“These animals are planning to rape us.”
Halo scoffed, chin lifting slightly.
“Well, obviously. I mean, look at me.”
Two-D didn’t waste time with commentary. She glanced at me, her tone calm and precise.
“Vibe. Incapacitate.”
I nodded and lifted my hand.
Sound bent to my will. I didn’t go for lethal force. Popping heads took focus and energy, especially at range, and there was no reason to waste either. Instead, I compressed vibration into tight bursts, hammering their inner ears. The men screamed as balance vanished, bodies collapsing in disoriented heaps.
“Terra,” Two-D said.
The ground answered before Terra spoke. Earthen spikes erupted upward with brutal precision, punching through jugulars and pinning bodies in place. The hallway went quiet again, blood seeping into cracked tile.
Elena turned sharply. “What’s the plan?”
I scanned the lobby. Three routes. One straight ahead toward the elevators, and two branching corridors flanking us.
Two-D followed my gaze. “Vibe. How confident are you in early detection?”
“I can manage,” I said. “If they move, I’ll hear it.”
“Good,” she replied. “Elena, you’re on Vibe. Telepathic cover and counter-intrusion.”
Elena nodded once.
“Halo,” Two-D continued, already moving. “Blind and disrupt. Keep them from coordinating.”
Halo grinned. “My specialty.”
“Terra,” Two-D finished, “you handle high-powered capes.”
Terra cracked her neck. “Finally.”
Two-D reached into her jacket and peeled out a thick sticker, slapping it onto the floor at the center of the lobby. With a sharp cartoonish whine, a mounted machine gun unfolded upward, locking into place on a tripod.
Halo’s eyes lit up. “Ooo, can I get a gun too?”
Two-D tossed her an Uzi and several magazines from the same stickers in her jacket without looking.
Halo caught them easily.
“Yehey.”
The NPCs around us began to unravel, their bodies breaking apart into drifting pixels as if flesh had only ever been a suggestion. The lobby hollowed out in seconds, leaving only the living, the armed, and the desperate.
I tilted my head, letting sound map the space for me.
“Movement,” I said quickly. “Left corridor and right. Fast. A lot of them.”
Two-D didn’t hesitate.
“Terra,” she ordered, already bracing the mounted gun. “Raise barriers. Thick. I want even a brute to waste time chewing through them.”
Terra planted her feet, brow furrowing as the floor trembled. Stone surged upward, but the first attempt cracked and slumped unevenly.
“Most of them are on the left side,” I added, focusing harder. “Heavy clustering. Do that side first.”
“Got it,” Terra growled, shifting her focus.
The elevator dinged.
The doors slid open, and players spilled out like insects from a ruptured nest. Two-D pulled the trigger, and the lobby erupted into noise. The mounted gun roared, muzzle flashes strobing as bodies dropped in layers. Screams cut short, weapons clattering uselessly across the floor.
The left-side wall finished forming with a deep, grinding sound, thick slabs locking together. Terra redirected her power to the right corridor, sweat beading along her temple as she forced more stone into place.
“They’re detouring,” I warned. “A few pulled back from the corridors.”
Another elevator chime answered me.
More players emerged, and they died just as quickly. Halo flashed light through the space, blinding stragglers, while Two-D kept firing with surgical calm. The system chimed again, a new overlay snapping into my vision.
[Urbanite – 0]
[Candyland – 12]
[Foresthome – 1]
I frowned.
“What?” I muttered.
One from Foresthome had already registered a kill.
The slaughter dragged on. Minutes blurred into hours as the elevator became a chute of bodies. Players charged, screamed, begged, or laughed, and none of it mattered. They fell to bullets, to light, to stone, to sound. At some point I grabbed a gun myself, less out of necessity and more to stave off boredom.
“Urbanite capes really are trash,” Halo said between bursts of laughter, reloading. “Quantity over quality.”
She wasn’t wrong. They fought like this was a joke, like death meant a respawn screen and nothing more. Watching them throw their lives away so casually made my stomach twist.
The counter updated again.
[Urbanite – 0]
[Candyland – 42]
[Foresthome – 19]
I froze.
“Nineteen?” I whispered. “That’s not possible.”
A single Foresthome cape was keeping pace with us. No, not just keeping pace. Matching our kill rate, almost cleanly.
Something buzzed at the back of my skull, sharp and insistent.
Wait.
I frowned, my grip tightening on the gun.
“Two-D,” I said slowly, “do my kills count for Candyland?”
She glanced back briefly. “They should. Why?”
“I’m not sure they are,” I replied, my voice lowering. “And that Foresthome number doesn’t make sense.”
The bodies around us dissolved into light again, erased moments after hitting the floor. The sound of fighting never stopped, yet something felt wrong, like a skipped beat in a song I knew by heart.
A pressure pulsed behind my eyes.
What was I thinking about earlier?
The thought slipped away the moment I reached for it, leaving only the echo of unease and the distant certainty that something important had already gone very, very wrong.