Daemonorg Prison-Lab: A Dark LitRPG / LitFPS SciFi-Shooter (Overtaken Online Book 1) Read online

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  About the author

  Daemonorg Prison-Lab

  OVERTAKEN ONLINE 1

  Ben Ormstad

  Daemonorg Prison-Lab: A Dark LitRPG / LitFPS SciFi-Shooter (Overtaken Online Book 1)

  Copyright © 2021

  Published by Unum

  Cover illustration by lgnacio Bazan Lazcano

  From simple words to published work by Ormstad Multimedia

  Ebook ISBN: 978-82-93724-15-5

  Paperback ISBN: 978-82-93724-16-2

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the author - Ben Ormstad - except in the instance of quotes for reviews.

  No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the internet without the permission of the author and is a violation of the International copyright law, which subjects the violator to severe fines and imprisonment.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents, and places are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real except where noted, and authorised. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events are entirely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  benormstad.com

  1

  I had been waiting for close to two hours when the blond, long-haired receptionist finally let me know I could enter the metal-plated door.

  After sitting more or less motionless on the uncomfortable designer chair for the entire hundred and twenty minutes, my ass felt squished, cold and numb. Both my knees hurt like hell and popped loudly when I stood. Standing too quickly, blood rushed to my head and made my face prickle.

  “Are you okay, Mr. Walsh?” she asked. The tiny wheels on her chair squeaked as she pushed herself out from the office desk, ready to come assist me in some way.

  Rubbing my eyes to get rid of the dizziness, I chuckled. “Yeah, thanks, no probs!”

  “Okay, good,” she said, sliding the chair back into position in front of the computer. “Don’t hesitate to let me know if I can do anything for you.”

  No ‘probs’? Seriously? Feeling stupid, I simply nodded sheepishly without responding. My body felt lethargic and heavy. I had to force my feet to move across the carpeted floor. I’ve just been sitting still too long. I wanted to believe it, I really did. However, seeing the black, shiny door finally closing in, I noticed three intricately detailed bullheads carved into the door’s top metal frame. The bright, white light from the LEDs aimed at the door reflected in the carvings, making the bulls look like animated demon heads.

  Jesus, relax, I thought, feeling more queasy with every step. After all, even if the stakes were high, this was what I wanted. Well, at least, it was better than joining my wife…

  Looking transfixed at the demonic-looking bullheads seemingly winking at me as the reflections shifted while I closed in on the door, I wasn’t so sure anymore. Maybe checking out would be a better solution, after all?

  My stomach rumbled.

  Passing the pretty receptionist, I smelled her perfume. Fresh watermelon. Quickly, I walked straight ahead; didn’t dare look at her in case the chaos whirling around my mind was visible in my eyes. My dry throat clicked audibly as I swallowed non-existent spit.

  The door. Now. Heart beating so hard it throbbed in my temples, I made a fist and knocked. Each knock reverberated through the door – and through me. Hell, it felt like they reverberated through the entirety of Existence itself, as if by knocking I sealed my fate with fire and blood.

  I tried to keep in mind I was just signing up for a fucking game.

  Even so, I had in fact sold most of my possessions and indefinitely rented out the apartment – the apartment where my wife and I had shared our last six years together, before she… she–

  Shit, couldn’t even bring myself to think about it right now. My life was destroyed beyond repair.

  It’s either this, or the fuckin’ grave. Thus, I’d sold everything, even my car, and burned a bunch of stuff as well. Now everything I owned lay squished in two bags and a backpack in a locker in the waiting room behind me. I was probably being dramatic, but I really needed to get lost. ASAP.

  As I was about to knock once more, the receptionist’s soft voice entered my awareness:

  “Mr. Walsh, I said: No need to knock. Just enter.”

  Feeling like an idiot once again, I mumbled: “Oh, yeah, of course. Uh, sorry.”

  “No need to apologize.” She smiled and waved her hand in the door’s direction, even though I already stood ten inches away from it.

  Drawing a deep breath, I curled my fingers around the cold, slick doorknob. The door easily slid open – still, it felt like I had to use all my weight to push through.

  In the huge, mostly empty room I entered, a dry, metallic smell hit me as I met the prying eyes of two men and a woman. Well-groomed and dressed in black suits. Professional. Business-like. Not the informal, causally dressed game developer types I’d expected. Somehow, I had a sense like I’d just entered a new dimension where the demonic bull-carvings on the black door had manifested as living entities clothed in human skin. For some reason, I didn’t trust these people even one bit. Sitting there with their hands folded and elbows on the tabletop, like devious judges with hidden agendas.

  Looming above, on the wall behind them, an enormous glowing screen showed an in-game screenshot of the game I signed up for:

  OVERTAKEN ONLINE

  The screenshot showed two gloved hands at the bottom of the screen – the left holding a high-tech, small-scale assault rifle, while the other hand was extended, shooting some form of electrical, bluish ball of energy, currently connecting with a pale, impish demon. Multiple larger beasts were attacking from different positions. The area itself reminded me of an old-fashioned dungeon with the somewhat peculiar addition of dirty computer screens embedded in some of the walls. From the cracked ceiling hung rusted chains with bloody hooks. Pillars marked with unknown symbols carried the weight of the heavy stone roof.

  In awe of the awesomeness awaiting me, I stopped for a few seconds and just looked. For the first time in over a year, I felt a spark of joy. Anticipation. I couldn’t wait to get myself inserted into this dark, devilish beauty of a game, which took immersion to a level never before s
een in the history of gaming.

  My eyes jumped to the outer edges of the screenshot, staring at the minimalistic, yet extremely smooth, translucent green-blue HUD-elements.

  Right in the middle on the lower edge of the screen, a beefy, two-dimensional circle illustrated the amount of health, while a number in the middle gave the information as a percentage. When the screenshot was taken, the player had 66% health left.

  On each side of the health circle, simple, stylized icons of the currently equipped weapon in each hand were visible. In this case, an assault rifle-symbol on the left side, and an energy-ball symbol on the right.

  Before I had the chance to take in anything else, the woman seated between the two men spoke with an unexpectedly deep voice:

  “Welcome, Dexter J. Walsh. I see you appreciate the image, yes?”

  Barely able to pull my eyes from the screenshot, I said: “Yeah. A work of art, for sure.”

  Squinting her dark eyes, she smiled. “Indeed, it is. Please sit.” She gestured at the chair in front of their table, facing them. Another uncomfortable designer chair with not even a hint of a cushion for my sore ass cheeks.

  “Thanks,” I said, walked across the room while the sound of my footsteps bounced off the empty, white walls. The chair’s thin legs screeched on the linoleum floor as I dragged it toward me. Sitting, the breath caught in my throat. Surprised I hadn’t noticed the two uniformed men at either side of the room. These people really took this shit seriously. Again the feeling of something just not right crept up on me. Goosebumps rippled through my spine like ice water.

  “So, Mr. Walsh,” the old, bearded guy at the right said, “we have thoroughly reviewed your query letter. You’re obviously not playing games regarding your wish to immerse yourself in OVERTAKEN ONLINE.”

  My brewing chuckle died when I realized his pun wasn’t intended to be funny. Instead, his eyes held mine in a steady gaze. I cleared my throat, nodded. “That’s correct. In a way, this is life or death for me.” And since I didn’t know what the correct form of etiquette was in this place, for good measure I added: “Sir.”

  “You work as a game designer, yes?” the bearded guy continued. “Developing levels, designing characters and such?”

  “Uhm, yeah,” I said, scratched the back of my head. “Well, used to work. Haven’t really been, you know, fit for work the past twelve months or so.”

  “That’s right,” the young guy at the left said, steadied his thick glasses and flipped his fingers over the screen of his tablet. “The query letter says your wife passed away last year.”

  Coldness spread across my face. My eyes wanted to flee to the floor, but I forced myself to look at him. “Yes. November, 23rd.”

  He tilted his head. “Disease?”

  “No. Severe allergic reaction. Food-related.”

  “Oh my,” he said. “My sincerest condolences.”

  Choking up a bit, I tried to swallow the shit away. “Yeah…”

  “How long had you been together?”

  Hoping he’d soon leave this fucking subject alone, I crossed my arms and answered: “We became a couple at eighteen. Married the year after. So, fifteen years total.” My eyes watched the floor again.

  “Any kids?” the woman asked.

  Without looking at her, I shook my head.

  The old man said: “We’re obviously stepping on your toes, so to speak. I do apologize for our questioning, but please understand we need to assess your suitability prior to transferring your consciousness into the game reality.”

  Fear spiked in my solar plexus. “I thought Virtuality Inc. had already accepted me.”

  He smiled. “On paper, yes, you have indeed been selected as a potential candidate for this season.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “A potential candidate?”

  “Relax, Mr. Walsh,” the woman interjected. “You’re one of our top picks. Still, we need to conduct this interview. May we proceed?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Sure.”

  The young guy adjusted his glasses again, openly bothered they wouldn’t stay in one spot on his tiny nose. He swiped an index finger across the tablet screen. “You mention no social connections other than your late wife. What about family, friends? Anything we should know?”

  Involuntarily grimacing, I took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “Well, long story short… My real parents didn’t want me when I was born, and my step-parents were too busy loving their own lives to ever care much for me. At fourteen I took a job, left those selfish people and got my own place.” I smiled for real. Truly didn’t give a shit about those assholes. They had barely provided food and clothing. “So, yeah, that’s that.”

  Staring wide-eyed at me, the young guy pushed his glasses up again. “And… friends?”

  “Sure, I have friends. Not many. A few close ones.”

  “And what do they think about you selling everything you own and coming here to potentially merge with a virtual reality for the rest of your life?”

  That sentence stung. A vacuum appeared in my stomach, and it felt like I was falling. Surely I knew it was a certain probability of becoming so entrenched in OVERTAKEN ONLINE that I didn’t want to leave ever again, but the way he said it seemed so… final.

  Pushing away any doubts, I smiled and said: “They know what I’ve been through regarding my wife, and know how depressed I’ve been this last year. Frankly, most of them believe it’s a good idea, and that I might get some of my joyous spark back.”

  “Is that so,” the woman said.

  “Yup.” And it was true. Mostly.

  She continued: “And you have properly researched the potential psychological pitfalls of playing OVERTAKEN ONLINE for extended periods of time?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, of course. Disorientation, extreme fear, psychotic outbreaks, suicidal thoughts, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, loss of sense of reality, feelings of losing one’s self, and so on,” I said as easily as if casually relaying information about candy and teddybears. I shrugged. “But there are also equally many positives. And for someone like me – who’s seriously contemplated grabbing cold steel in order to end the meaningless life I’m left with after my wife died – I’m pretty sure OVERTAKEN ONLINE is just what I need. So… yeah.”

  The young guy removed his glasses and placed them on the tabletop. They all looked at each other and whispered. I couldn’t really hear anything and wasn’t able to decipher their expressions.

  After a minute or so, the woman said: “Okay, Mr. Walsh… Dex. We’ve come to an agreement, and have decided to let you join OVERTAKEN ONLINE.”

  Unreal joy exploded in my chest. “Really? You sure?”

  She smiled. “Yes. Congratulations. Hopefully, you’ll get your ‘spark’ back.”

  Glasses back on his nose, the young guy pointed at an anonymous, white door at the far left corner in the back of the room. “What are you waiting for? Go on!”

  “Thank you very much, all of you.” I stood up and walked across the room, and glanced at the game screenshot one last time.

  I’m coming, I thought, feeling an adventurous fire burning inside.

  2

  I held my breath as I opened the anonymous, white door in the back of the interview room. Then, seeing an equally anonymous, white corridor, I actually felt a tad disappointed.

  Oh well, at least it isn’t a freakin’ torture chamber. I smiled at the ridiculous thought, then gave the closest guard a nod as I stepped in.

  The subtle metallic smell from the interview room followed me into the corridor – stronger here, yet combined with a dry, almost chalky aroma from the white walls. The corridor, perhaps twenty meters long, was lit by simple lightbulbs fastened to sockets on sticks protruding from the walls every five meters or so. Just above each of the lamps, tiny cameras with reflective lenses all pointed toward my end of the corridor. Nothing else occupied the empty space – no windows, no pictures, wallpapers or anything else.

  “Okay…“ I whispered, try
ing to ignore the slight claustrophobia tickling my mind. The clacking sound of my shoes echoed through the corridor as I walked. Also, the cameras must have been set up with motion sensors. They rotated with a barely audible bzzzzzd when I passed them, continuously eyeing me.

  Surely just a way to set the mood for the players. I told myself the cameras probably weren’t even recording. Just for show, all of it. Considering the price of playing cost close to thirty grand, the least they could do was spice it up a bit – even before beginning.

  Memories of my beautiful wife popped up in my mind. Lara had been amazing. Everything I would ever need or want. Really, the only thing I hadn’t appreciated was the fact she refused to accept me joining OVERTAKEN ONLINE when the first news about its launch started spreading a couple of months before her death. And it wasn’t even because of the price. Rather, she was afraid I’d never come back, or if I did, not the same person I went in as. As if the experience would change me for the worse. The news loved highlighting the possibility that some players could lose all interest in their normal lives after playing for a few months – as if they’d return to their regular lives like emotionless, indifferent zombies. Clickbaity attention-grabbing bullshit. And even if it potentially could happen to a nano-fraction of players, it wouldn’t ever happen to me. It hurt me she’d even think something like that. But of course, she was just afraid of losing me. How ironic, then, that I was the one who ended up losing her.

  Emotional pain spiked me in the gut like a chainsaw wound when I remembered her saying I’d be playing OVERTAKEN ONLINE over her dead body. And: “If you ever choose to play that horrible virtual reality game, I’m gone!”

  My jaw muscles tensed. No, baby, you disappeared anyway.

  The last camera rotated as I reached the door on the opposite side of the corridor. I opened it and was greeted by a huge demon ogling me with glowing red eyes and a wicked grin filled to the brim with razor-sharp teeth.

  For a second or two it scared the living crap out of me, and I stumbled backwards, hitting the wall.