ã€ŠSpeed Demon (Stray Cat Strut)ã€‹


 Chapter One - If a Gun Goes Off in an Empty Food Court, Does It Still Make a Sound?

    Chapter One - If a Gun Goes Off in an Empty Food Court, Does It Still Make a Sound?

    Apocalypse Prediction is an interesting science. Every few decades some important event or calendar date will roll around where some ancient civilization said ¡°this is the day the world will end!¡±, and inevitably nothing comes of it. But for the most part, apocalypse prediction is just a bunch of doomsayers repeating, ¡°THIS time there¡¯s going to be an apocalypse!¡± year after year.

    Surprisingly, they weren¡¯t very smug when the Antithesis invaded and proved them right.

    ¡ª2046 TED Talk on the 2022 Antithesis Invasion

    ***

    I was in the middle of my lunch break when the incursion started. I¡¯d just been served a cheap curry by an underpaid teenager when all the lights turned red, sirens started howling, and everyone¡¯s aug-gear received the same ¡°INCURSION DETECTED!¡± pop-up. I was exhausted, enjoying a bowl of ¡°curry¡±, and quite used to adware pop-ups, so all of this did surprisingly little to disturb me.

    The alien drop-pod crashing into our building, on the other hand, scared the shit out of me.

    I promptly swallowed half my spork and fell to the ground, choking to death. I couldn¡¯t cry for help, and no one heard my broken gasps over the sirens. Worse still, the stampede of people rushing to the shelter ended up trampling me.

    I felt a fingerbone snap as a boot smashed it into the cheap tile of the food court, and my head reeled from the flailing kick of a child being picked up by his mother. The impact at least had the decency to halfway-dislodge the spork, but I didn¡¯t have time to celebrate my ¡°good¡± fortune before another rush of people hammered me back into the floor. Agonizing pain flared in my leg as it was dislocated by a stumbling runner, and my brain finally declared that it had had enough¡ªwith no oxygen to breathe, and excruciating injuries across my body, I blacked out.

    ***

    I woke up to the sound of distant gunfire. My vision was blurry, and partially covered by a few strands of long, blond hairs that had escaped my man bun (something which my dad liked to tell me had never been in style, but I maintained that he was just jealous). Pain still stabbed across my body, but I did my best to at least peel my head off the floor and look around. The food court was deserted and quiet, save for a few ad kiosks chattering away in the corner. The floor was slick with spilled drinks and a bit of blood¡­ Oh, wait, that was my blood. When did I break my nose?

    Suddenly, the sliding doors on the other side of the food court were forced open with a harsh scrape. Two men¡ªsecurity guards for one of the stores in the mall, based on their dinky pistols and low-budget uniforms¡ªrushed through the gap and let the doors snap shut behind them. Despite having weapons, they looked just as scared as I was. The one who went through first, a heavily overweight man with receding hair and a lightly bleeding cut on his cheek, looked to his partner with wide eyes. ¡°They¡¯re going to reach the shelter if we keep running this way. We have to draw them up to the next floor.¡±

    Fatguy¡¯s buddy, an overly muscular man with a mop of unruly red hair, looked at him like he was crazy. ¡°Are you fuckin¡¯ kidding me? I¡¯m not dying for fuckin¡¯ Macy¡¯s! Those security locks ain¡¯t gonna hold them for long; I¡¯m gettin¡¯ in that shelter with the rest of ¡®em.¡±

    He was right: the doors didn¡¯t hold them for long.

    With a sharp crack, an alien form crashed through the supposedly bulletproof glass of the food court door and tackled the bodybuilder. He fell forward, screaming as the alien clamped its jaws over the back of his neck. He struggled to get the relatively small form off his back, then suddenly stopped moving as fangs sunk into his spine with a wet crunch. Fatguy backed up in horror, forgetting his gun for a few seconds as he watched his partner get turned into an alien¡¯s snack.

    I, meanwhile, didn¡¯t have time for horror. I was trying to lie as still as possible, for fear that I¡¯d black out from the pain or be noticed. I didn¡¯t want to get involved in any of that mess, and certainly couldn¡¯t when I already had my own mess of broken bones. Still, I knew that my current course of action wasn¡¯t sustainable¡ªthe Antithesis were all about munching on dead bodies, so I wasn¡¯t going to get out of this by playing dead like I was in the middle of a bear attack (at least, that¡¯s what my grandfather had told me to do during a bear attack¡ªgrizzlies had been extinct in Montana for longer than I¡¯ve been alive).

    That led me to the last complicating factor: the gun lying a few feet away from my head. Bodybuilder had flung it away in his panic to get the alien off him, and it had landed next to me. I didn¡¯t have any experience with firearms¡ªnot unless I counted online Mesh-shooters¡ªbut it was probably my only chance to not end up next on the menu. The trouble was reaching it.

    I stifled a scream of agony as I inched forward, trying to ignore the sounds behind me. The pain in my dislocated leg flared up as I accidentally nudged it against a table leg, but I had to ignore it. The floor tiles felt cool against the bruises I¡¯d gained from the stampede of fleeing shoppers, even as I slid over crushed packets of condiments and salt that burned against patches of split skin. My head pounded in time with my pulse, coaxing more pain from my injuries with each hammerblow. Still, I pushed forward.

    After what felt like an eternity, I could finally reach the pistol. An alert popped up in my vision as I slapped a hand over it, warning me that I was ¡°unauthorized to use a Macy¡¯s-brand Guardian Carry 2.0¡±. After dismissing the useless pop-up from my eye-gear, I pulled myself up against a nearby chair and looked back at the other side of the room. The alien was still munching on Bodybuilder, which gave me some time, but two more of its friends were starting to push their way through the shattered glass of the food court¡¯s doors.

    Looking at them more closely, I recognized the Model: Antithesis Model Three. Looked kinda like a mid-sized dog, if dogs were ugly and made of plants. My elementary school¡¯s anti-Antithesis cartoons mainly consisted of ¡°this is how dead you are if you see one of these¡±, but there were some good tidbits here and there: Model Threes were fast and strong, but also relatively easy to put down. They liked to flank you when you weren¡¯t looking, but could be handled in small numbers. Three of them in one room¡­ It was pushing it, but I had a gun now.

    Fatguy finally remembered he had a gun too and opened up. For a mall cop, the guy sure could shoot. All three shots hit the first Antithesis center-mass and it flopped down, obviously dead. There was no time to celebrate, however¡ªthe first of the other two Model Threes cleared the remaining glass and charged into the room, angling for Fatguy. The security guard had time to fire two more shots, both grazing the xeno¡¯s side, before it jumped on him. He stumbled and fell backwards, cracking his head on the floor as he attempted to hold the Model Three off.

    For a full second, I thought about just letting those alien bastards chew on Fatguy while I made my escape. It would be easy¡ªthey hadn¡¯t noticed me yet, and I was on the opposite side of the room. Even in my current state, I could probably hobble my way out of the nearby emergency exit and into an incursion shelter before they even finished eating.

    I started to get up to leave, then paused. A few minutes ago, Fatguy¡¯d seemed perfectly willing to draw the Antithesis away and sacrifice himself in the process. With my own life on the line, I¡¯d normally have wished him the best of luck and been on my merry way, but seeing him now¡­ I couldn¡¯t do it. This random security guard was noble enough to give up his life for others, and here I was just letting him get eaten by an overglorified weed.

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    I don¡¯t remember firing the first shot. I was so angry with myself that it almost seemed like another person had done it. All I remember is the loudest sound I¡¯ve ever heard go off right in front of me, then the Model Three getting flung off the mall cop. I stared, disbelieving, at the smoking gun in my shaking hands. Then, realizing what I¡¯d done, I immediately turned the weapon on the second xeno.

    No Mesh game had prepared me for the sheer sound and recoil of a real gun, even a small one like this. My first two shots went wide, smashing into a soda fountain next to the door. Even after taking a second to steady my aim, my third shot missed as well, giving the Model Three enough time to finish busting open the door and make its way into the cafeteria.

    Not wanting it to get any closer, I gave up on any pretense of accuracy. With a hoarse scream, I emptied the rest of the magazine, hitting it several times before the slide locked back with a final click. The Model Three fell where it stood, letting out a silent whine as it attempted to move. It wasn¡¯t quite dead, but it probably wouldn¡¯t be able to attack me anymore. Good enough.

    I looked over at Fatguy, and my heart stopped. The first Antithesis I¡¯d shot hadn¡¯t died from its injuries either, and had apparently decided that I was the better snack.

    I don¡¯t know why I expected some demonic snarl or slavering howl¡ªthe movies always showed it, even though school taught us that most Antithesis never made noise¡ªbut it was completely silent as it charged me. Somehow that was scarier. I knew I would die without a sound, my body¡¯s biomass used to grow some other silent monstrosity in a hive deep underground. With no ammo, I was out of options and out of luck as the alien barreled into me, sinking its razor-sharp teeth into my arm.

    I screamed as the pain hit me. I thought it had hurt when my bones had been broken, but this was worse. A dozen pinpricks of white-hot agony burned into my forearm as the Model Three shook its head back and forth, trying to rip my arm off. I was pushed off the side of the chair I had propped myself on, and there was another stab of pain as my leg was forcibly relocated from the fall. The Antithesis let go of my arm, only to chomp back down near my wrist, as if it were trying to get a better grip to rip me limb-from-limb. My mind was hazy again from the pain, and I knew the Model Three wasn¡¯t going to let me go.

    It was then that my flailing arm (the good one, not the one currently being used as a chew toy) landed on something. Something small and plastic, and just a tiny little bit sharp. I couldn¡¯t take my eyes off the Model Three, so I just grasped the object and thrust it at the alien¡¯s face.

    The first stab glanced off the thin scales on its muzzle, and it merely snorted as it once again repositioned its hold on my arm. I stabbed again, this time hitting it between the teeth, and it let go. However, instead of backing off, the xeno then leapt further up on my body, aiming for my throat. Time seemed to slow down for a second, and I realized that if it got its teeth around my neck, I was dead.

    I aimed one last time, then brought the object down again. As it lanced into the Model Three¡¯s eye, I finally realized what the object was: it was the spork! The same traitorous spork that had attempted to choke me to death was now redeeming itself by giving me one last chance at life.

    The Antithesis, now missing one eye, missed its grab at my throat, and its head landed next to my own. I stared into its remaining eye, directly below the one I¡¯d just stabbed, and saw nothing there. There was no intelligence in this creature¡ªonly a hunger, a need to kill and eat and bring the remains back to whatever hive it called home. I wasn¡¯t going to let it do that to me.

    With a tortured cry, I removed the spork from its eye with a wet pop, then stabbed down again, and again, and again. I rolled over and trapped one of its legs underneath me, preventing it from getting up as I continued my assault. At some point the spork snapped in half, leaving me holding a jagged piece of cheap plastic, but I didn¡¯t let that stop me. With a savage animalism to rival the alien I was pinning down, I grabbed the Model Three with my own teeth, tearing into its shoulder as my bloody knuckles beat in its skull. With twin cracks¡ªone from its skull and one from my fist¡ªthe alien immediately crumpled. I punched it a few more times for good measure, completely ignoring the pain in my now-broken hand, just to make sure it was dead. Once I was sure, I rolled off it, pushing its body away as I took a few seconds to get my breathing under control.

    Bang!

    I flinched at the sudden gunshot, but didn¡¯t do anything else. In my current state, I couldn¡¯t so much as turn my head to see who¡¯d fired the shot, or at what. I was too tired to move, so I just continued to stare at the ceiling as I gulped down air..

    I tensed as I heard a squish off to my right, then relaxed as Fatguy entered my vision. He was rubbing the food court¡¯s facsimile of chili off his shoe and staring down at me. I knew what I probably looked like to him¡ªmy height and thin frame made me look like a sickly beanpole at the best of times, but covered in blood and bruises as I was¡­ I probably looked like death warmed over.

    ¡°Hey, you okay?¡± he asked. I didn¡¯t respond, still coming to grips with what I¡¯d done, so he leaned down and shook my shoulder. I let out a weak mewl as the movement aggravated my injuries, then groaned as he repeated the question.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to take that as a ¡®yes¡¯,¡± was all he said in response, and he moved off. He came back into my view, dragging a chair behind him, then put his hands under my shoulders. I gave another cry as he pulled me up, then a sigh as he set me down into the chair. I leaned back as much as my bruises would allow, then tried to speak.

    All that came out was a croak, so I cleared my throat and tried again. ¡°Thanks,¡± was the only thing I managed to get out, but he nodded in understanding.

    Fatguy reached down and touched my bloodied arm, which I drew back with a hiss, then nodded to himself again. He withdrew a pouch from his uniform¡¯s cargo pocket, which turned out to be a first-aid kit. He started removing gauze from the kit, then spoke. ¡°Name¡¯s Harry, what¡¯s yours?¡±

    As he said that, I noticed Fatg¡ªHarry had some blood-stained gauze around his own neck, likely with some quick-clotting ointment underneath to cover the teeth wounds. ¡°Benjamin,¡± I offered in response.

    He nodded yet again as he sprayed something on my own wounds and wrapped them. ¡°Well, Benjamin¡ª¡±

    ¡°Just ¡®Ben¡¯ works, actually,¡± I interjected.

    ¡°Well then you should have said that from the beginning, eh, Benjamin?¡± he noted with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Then his expression turned dour. ¡°I won¡¯t lie; we¡¯re in the poop, kid. I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯ve looked outside, but there are Antithesis all around this building, and they¡¯re searching the floors below us. These three were just some advance scouts, and you saw what they did to¡ª¡± He choked up for a second, gazing back at the remains of his fellow security guard, then looked back at me. ¡°¡ªwhat they did to Davis. National Guard is still being mobilized from Malmstrom, and I haven¡¯t heard of any Samurai in the area. I¡¯m down to my last magazine, there¡¯s only one shot in my taser, and I don¡¯t have anything else on me that could be used as a weapon¡ªwe¡¯re not allowed to carry pocket knives, and we had to stop wearing batons after Kathy got hers stolen by a kid that one time.¡±

    I closed my eyes and let my head fall back as I slumped down in the chair, a sudden mental numbness deadening the new spikes of pain from the motion. ¡°In other words: we¡¯re fucked?¡±

    Harry sighed and shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s nothing chasing us right now, so if you want, I can bring you to the shelter and lock you in with the rest of them until help arrives. But I¡¯m going to stay out here and see if I can keep them away from it. I know the security shed at the back of my store still has a few guns and magazines left.¡± He looked forlorn as he said it, like he knew it was unlikely he would reach the room before more Antithesis made it to this floor.

    I thought about that. An hour ago, I would¡¯ve just let him go and shambled my way to the nearest shelter. Now, however, I wasn¡¯t so sure. I looked over at the dead Antithesis around us¡ªincluding the one I¡¯d shot by the door, which Harry¡¯d clearly finished putting down while I was otherwise occupied¡ªand considered the sheer state of fucked that I was in. There were thousands more of these kinds of things out there, all looking for people to kill.

    People who were just as scared as I was. People who were dying right now, as I faffed around trying to think of something productive to do. I didn¡¯t want to die, but the idea that I could help those people¡­ Well, if Harry could do it, why couldn¡¯t I? Maybe together, we had a better chance of surviving until help arrived. It was probably better than waiting for the Antithesis to break into whatever shelter I hid in, anyways.

    I realized that I¡¯d been silent for a while at this point, so I opened my mouth to respond. ¡°I think we should¡ª¡±

    I was rudely interrupted by a prickling shock across my entire body.

    System Initialized!

    Congratulations. Through your actions, you have proven yourself worthy of becoming one of the Vanguard, a defender of humanity. I am Lynata. I will assist you to uplift humanity so that you may defend your homeworld from the Antithesis threat!

    Rise, Benjamin Miller, and become a protector of the weak!

    ¡°Oh, I guess I¡¯m a Samurai now,¡± I said, then immediately slipped out of my chair and collapsed to the floor. I was utterly spent, and so done with this day.

 Chapter Two - Iéˆ¥æªe Got a Voice in My Head, But I Swear Iéˆ¥æª“ Not Crazy!

    Chapter Two - I¡¯ve Got a Voice in My Head, But I Swear I¡¯m Not Crazy!

    Dimensional shifting is an exceptionally accurate science. It has been perfected by the Protectors over several millennia. Currently, dimensional shifting causes an issue in only zero point oh-oh-oh-one percent of all transfers. Only one prospective Vanguard has been killed by a dimensional shift malfunction. It was unfortunate.

    ¡ªHeksy, AI companion of Vanguard ¡°One Man Army¡±, 2051

    ***

    Normally, hearing strange voices in your head means you¡¯re crazy, but I wasn¡¯t that lucky. This was the same type of voice the Samurai always talked about on TV: the AI suddenly stuck in their brain one day, promising great power and glory.

    The Samurai. ¡°Humanity¡¯s great defenders¡±. It wasn¡¯t bad enough that one alien species decided we looked like a tasty snack, but another decided our struggle made for great daytime television. At least, that¡¯s what I always assumed the Protectors wanted with us¡ªthey claimed they wanted to ¡°uplift humanity¡±, but why else would they bother turning people into Samurai? If they could make shit appear in midair like magic, and casually give out pistols that can disintegrate tanks, clearly they should¡¯ve been able to handle our little Antithesis problem without our help.

    Whatever their reasoning for making Samurai, they¡¯d apparently decided to make me one. To anyone else, the idea of being an instant celebrity¡ªone able to buy unlimited amounts of alien technology at that¡ªwould sound extraordinary. But that came with responsibilities. Namely, helping fight off the monthly invasions of extraterrestrial murder-plants. I liked having all my limbs, and I¡¯d prefer it if my insides never became my outsides, so constantly risking my life for a little bit of alien tech always sounded like a bum deal.

    Unfortunately, that was clearly the only deal I was going to get. Maybe that was for the best; ¡°TJ¡¯s courtesy greeter¡± wasn¡¯t exactly a useful occupation during an incursion. Barring the unlikely event of an Army battalion teleporting into a random mall food court, our best bet was for some Samurai intervention. Still, even with my newfound anti-cowardly ways, I would have preferred it if that Samurai hadn¡¯t been me.

    It was a little late to look the part, but I decided to salvage the situation. Harry had been staring at me for the last few seconds with a stupefied look on his face, and the floor was starting to get uncomfortable, so I sheepishly looked back at him. ¡°Hey, do you mind helping me up on the chair again? I hurt too much to move.¡±

    Harry¡¯s gaze refocused, but when he opened his mouth to speak, another voice answered first.

    Yes, you have severe injuries across your body. While you are no longer suffering from potentially lethal blood loss, you still have multiple broken bones and significant contusions. This will severely reduce your combat capability. Luckily, with a few simple medical purchases, we could have you ¡°right as rain!¡± What a delightful little human expression!

    The voice was female, smooth, and entirely too peppy given my current circumstances. It had the slightest hint of some accent that almost sounded Irish, but there was none of the artificial tone that I¡¯d come to associate with androids and other human-built AI. The only issue was that it had spoken entirely inside my head. The voice wasn¡¯t blaringly loud, nor did it sound like someone was talking directly into my ear¡ªin fact, that was exactly the problem: the voice was too clear, having bypassed my feeble human ears completely and instead spoken directly to my brain. The wonders of alien technology. Unfortunately, it appeared that my new alien brain-mate was lacking in the manners department, as it had spoken directly over whatever Harry had just said.

    I licked my chapped lips. ¡°Sorry, could you repeat that?¡±

    I stated that you have sev¡ª

    ¡°Quiet!¡± I snarled, looking to the side because I felt stupid talking to the AI while looking directly at Harry. ¡°I wasn¡¯t asking you.¡± I tilted my head to regard Harry yet again. ¡°You were saying?¡±

    Harry¡¯s stare grew concerned, like he wasn¡¯t sure whether or not I was crazy. Funny, you¡¯d think he¡¯d never seen someone talk to a voice in their head before. ¡°Seriously, I heard that right? You are a Samurai?¡±

    I tried shrugging, but that just further aggravated my injuries. ¡°I guess so? Assuming that this isn¡¯t all just a hallucination from the blood loss.¡± I glanced at the smeared puddle of blood nearby. My blood. No, it didn¡¯t look like I¡¯d bled enough to start having delusions. Probably.

    Harry shifted, then leaned over to pick me up again. ¡°Well shoot, why didn¡¯t you lead with that?¡±

    I shook my head as Harry set me back on the seat. ¡°It just happened. Got an AI and everything.¡±

    Hi, my name is Lynata! I look forward to assis¡ª

    ¡°Quiet!¡± I hissed again. Harry looked like he wanted to speak, then paused. I nodded at him. ¡°Continue.¡±

    The security guard drew himself up, now giving me a searching gaze. ¡°This could work for us. Could you conjure us up some more ammunition? Or maybe some better guns?¡±

    That was a really good question. I decided to relay that to my new AI buddy, staring off into the distance so it looked like I was on a call instead of talking to myself like a crazy person. ¡°Hey, uh, Lynata? I killed at least one of those dog fucks, so can I buy more ammo now? That¡¯s how this works, right?¡±

    That¡¯s a heavily simplified version, but yes. Unfortunately, you lack the points to purchase both the ammunition and the medical supplies necessary to heal your wounds. I would recommend purchasing the medical equipment first, using your remaining resources to make more points.

    Lynata¡¯s response was slightly less peppy than before, and somewhat hurt. I¡¯d probably hurt her feelings by yelling at her to be quiet. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, figuring that she would know what I meant. Then my indignation rose again as I registered what she¡¯d said. ¡°Hey, wait a minute. Why can¡¯t I buy both? I was nearly alien kibble, and now you¡¯re telling me that I have to choose between working limbs and the only thing stopping me from getting chewed on again?¡±

    Unfortunately, the point-buy system is unmalleable, regardless of situation. The Protectors do not provide special dispensation for life-threatening conditions, and all prices are fixed save for catalog restructuring.

    ¡°That¡¯s bullshit! You¡¯re telling me that you can¡¯t change anything? If I die, you bite it too, right? You¡¯re telling me you won¡¯t even help yourself out?¡±

    Technically, the hyperdense wafer making up my ¡°body¡± is merely a quantum-entangled anchor for my mainframe, and would be dimensionally displaced from your brain upon death in any case. But¡­ That does not help you right now. I¡¯m sorry. Truly, I am, but I cannot change it. The point-buy system was designed to prov¡ª

    ¡°Well then what the hell?!¡± I interrupt. The AI could make any excuse she wanted, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that she was hanging me out to dry for the sole reason of ¡°because we said so.¡± No matter how advanced the Protectors supposedly were, they were starting to sound like every other corporation I¡¯ve ever dealt with¡ªno nuance or concern, just some blanket ruling that harmed more than it helped. ¡°If you aren¡¯t going to actually help me, then why even bother showing up in the first place?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the issue?¡± Harry asked, reminding me where I was.

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    ¡°She¡¯s telling me that I can¡¯t buy medicine and ammo at the same time.¡±

    Harry quirked an eyebrow. ¡°Right. Well in that case, I would buy the medicine first. Can¡¯t shoot if you can¡¯t move in the first place. We can get to the security office later and get ammo there.¡±

    I sighed. Harry was looking at it pragmatically, and here I was whining like a kid. After a few more seconds of contemplation, I sighed a second time. ¡°Fine. Can I get some of that space-magic medicine, Lynata?¡±

    Affirmative. To be clear, you would first need to purchase the Class One Medical Utilities catalog for fifty points. After that, you could buy any number of medical devices and products, but I would recommend a Nano-Regenerative Suite to deal with your worst injuries. You currently possess one hundred and fifteen points¡ªten for one Model Three kill, five for one Model Three assist, and one hundred free points to start as a Vanguard.

    ¡°That¡¯ll work,¡± I responded.

    Fantastic! Purchasing now!

    Suddenly, a script popped up in the corner of my eye-gear.

    Class I Medical Utilities unlocked!

    Points reduced to¡­ 65

    New Purchase: Class I Nano-Regenerative Suite

    Points reduced to¡­ 50

    A box appeared in my lap. No special sound effects or blur in the air¡ªone moment there was nothing, and the next moment there was a small box balancing on top of my leg. It was made of the same cheap, off-white plastic as the pistol lying next to my foot.

    Harry¡¯s eyes bugged out. ¡°Son of a gun, you actually are a Samurai.¡±

    I looked up. ¡°Well yeah. Did you think I was lying?¡±

    The security guard shrugged. ¡°We have a few people every year claim they¡¯re a Samurai to get away with stealing stuff. Or they¡¯re just crazy. Sorry, but even like this I had to be skeptical.¡±

    I glared at him, then groaned as I attempted to move my broken hands. ¡°Tell you what: you can make it up to me by helping me apply this shit.¡±

    Harry nodded, then picked the box off my lap. He flipped open the lid and pulled out what looked like a fat inhaler with a mask attached. He looked it over, then presented it to me. ¡°Seems pretty self-explanatory, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. ¡°Lay it on me.¡±

    Harry put the mask over my face, then gave a quick countdown of ¡°three, two, one¡± before depressing the canister. It tasted like TV static. I could feel it very clearly as it prickled down into my lungs, then spread throughout each individual artery in my body. The inhaler dinged empty and Harry removed it, letting me breathe fresh air again. As the static feeling spread, the sticky wetness of my wounds was quickly replaced by too-smooth skin, and the ache of my fractured bones slowly went numb. While I couldn¡¯t feel it, it was very disconcerting to see my smashed nose set itself on its own accord. My hearing also abruptly sharpened, and I belatedly realized that all the shooting must have near-deafened me.

    It will take several minutes to completely heal your more serious injuries. You should be in ¡°fighting shape¡±¡ªanother entertaining human expression!¡ªshortly. However, it would be remiss of me to not mention the increased risk of cancer from having used the Nano-Regenerative Suite.

    ¡°Cancer!¡± I yelped. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me that before I bought that shit?¡±

    It is not a significant concern. The amount of nano-plastics and other additives you consume on a daily basis is a much greater cause for alarm in regards to your long-term health.

    ¡°Gee, thanks, that makes me feel so much better.¡± I replied, rubbing my knuckles as feeling returned to them. ¡°Now about that ammo situation?¡±

    I am sorry, but the least expensive weapons catalogs cost another fifty points. While you have enough points to buy such a catalog, you will require additional points to acquire the ammunition itself, or weapons to fire it.

    I glance up at Harry. ¡°She says no dice until I make more points. We¡¯ll have to find that security booth you¡¯re talking about.¡±

    Harry gazed around the remains of the food court, clearly waffling over something. Finally, he grumbled something unintelligible, then flicked the safety on his pistol and handed it to me by the barrel. ¡°Here, you¡¯ll need it more than I will.¡±

    I furrowed my brow. I¡¯d never heard of a corporate security guard handing his gun over to a civilian. Use it to beat the crap out of a civilian, sure, but never give it up to them. ¡°You sure?¡±

    Harry confirmed it with a short dip of his head. ¡°Yes. Anything you kill will get you points. If we live long enough after that, you can buy me a better gun. Besides, at least your aim seems to be a bit better than most civvies.¡± He rubbed the gauze around his neck. ¡°Thanks for that, by the way.¡±

    While Harry was thanking me for saving him, I was cursing myself for not remembering his own injuries in all of this. ¡°You want something for that, by the way? It¡¯s probably not that safe to have that wrapped around your neck.¡±

    Harry waved off the concern. ¡°No, you need all the points you can get for that ammo. I¡¯ve had worse than this before.¡±

    I doubted that, looking at him, but he seemed adamant about me saving those points. It was weird, thinking about it¡ªSamurai were supposed to be walking embodiments of Death who could summon an army¡¯s worth of supplies from thin air, but here I was, some random schmuck who couldn¡¯t even buy his new work-friend a band-aid. Logically, a lot of those Samurai probably started somewhere similar, but it was still hard to reconcile that with what I knew of them.

    An explosion outside, somewhere deeper in the city, reminded me where I was. I slowly stood up from the chair and stretched, then reached down for the pistol at my feet. The lack of pain in my joints made me feel ten years younger (which is impressive when you¡¯re only twenty), and I could practically touch my toes for the first time in my life. If it weren¡¯t for the risk of cancer, I¡¯d probably start taking Nano-Regenerative Suites like drugs.

    After handing the gun to Harry, I glanced around the demolished food court. ¡°Which way to that security room?¡±

    The security guard pointed to the doors opposite where he and the bodybuilder had entered from, just past the escalator to the second floor of the food court. I stepped over the body of the Model Three I¡¯d killed, then walked over to the center of the room. I peered through the broken glass of the sliding doors, making sure no aliens were lying in wait, then glanced over to the doors we had to get through. The glass was smudged by a good number of handprints, but I could still see a clear hallway beyond them. A few of the kiosks were knocked down, but I didn¡¯t see any people or Antithesis walking around, so that was some good news.

    As I took a step towards the unbroken doors, my foot bumped against something. Looking down, I was confronted with the corpse of the bodybuilder, the carcass of the first Model Three dead next to him. His neck had been savaged by the too-wide jaws of the alien, and I could clearly see bone and pulped muscle through the blood. I hadn¡¯t even noticed the pool of blood soaking into my shoes.

    Everything stopped for a few moments. My breath hitched in my throat, my hearing was reduced to just the sound of rushing blood, and my fingers went numb through the white-knuckle grip I had on the pistol. That could have been me. Hell, it almost had been me.

    Benjamin.

    He didn¡¯t even have a chance. The alien just appeared and was on him in less than a second. What did Harry say his name was? Davis? Davies? Now he was just another nameless corpse. Harry and I would probably die too, and then no one would remember him. Maybe he had a family, but soon they¡¯d probably be dead too. Killed just like he was. Just like I would be.

    Benjamin.

    A single Model Three did this. Three of them had nearly killed all of us. What chance did Harry and I have against a swarm of these guys? What chance did any of us have? Model Threes were some of the weakest Models the Antithesis had¡ªthe aliens could easily grow larger than tanks, and there were even a few videos out there of ones the size of skyscrapers. Humanity was fucked, and here I was thinking I had any sort of chance. Like my recent epiphany would make any diff¡ª

    Benjamin!

    My vision suddenly flashed several colors at once, and the bodybuilder¡¯s remains were covered over by a black, digital box. There was a short, intense, stabbing headache, and I felt my eye-gear¡¯s wires briefly heat up inside my skull. Sensation returned to my fingers, and I could suddenly breathe properly again. Lynata had pulled me out of my burgeoning panic attack, and was now softly humming inside my head.

    Benjamin, I understand that this is a very disruptive series of events, and no individual can be truly prepared for the harsh realities of an Antithesis attack, but you need to be prepared. There are others like you throughout the city, all scared and desperately crying for help. You can help them now. But you need to be strong. The Protectors believe in you, which is why you were chosen. I believe in you, which is why I was chosen. Please, allow me to assist you in eliminating this threat. Together, we can put a permanent end to this senseless violence and death.

    I swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. She was right. The old Ben was gone, and now the new Ben had to step up. There was going to be a lot of danger¡ªand probably a fair bit more death¡ªin my near future, but I needed to face it head-on. The realities of my being a Samurai was still sinking in, but I had figured out enough to realize that I now had all the tools I needed. Instead of despair, my anger resurfaced: I was going to kill every damn alien in this city. I was going to make sure that no one else died like Davis. I was going to make sure that no one had to be scared of the Antithesis ever again.

 Chapter Three - Brawls and Falls in the Malléˆ¥æªš Halls

    Chapter Three - Brawls and Falls in the Mall¡¯s Halls

    The late 20s saw the death of ¡°the mall¡± as we knew it. Online shopping became the number one method of purchasing products in every country across the world; even nations without the infrastructure to support it were given the opportunity as megacorporations invested billions into them (cornering their market in the process, of course).

    It wasn¡¯t until the late 30s that consumers realized how tedious online shopping was. It was easy, of course, to spend thousands of credits without ever leaving the comfort of your couch, but there was nothing special about online shopping. A wave of social movements and new business trends revived ¡°the mall¡±, rebranding it as a social space with shopping as a secondary concern. Naturally, the corporations behind these social movements saw record sales as their new malls brought in even more customers.

    ¡ªExcerpt from The Rise, Fall, and Resurrection of Physical Shopping, 2045

    ***

    The sliding doors took a bit of force to leverage open, but Harry and I were easily able to do it together. The other side opened up to a department store, one that seemed eerily empty. Hopefully it stayed that way.

    ¡°Last chance, kid.¡± Harry whispered, pointing further into the store. ¡°Shelter¡¯s that way.¡±

    I shook my head. At this point, I was committed to seeing it through to the end. I wasn¡¯t going to hide in there while Harry fought and died out here.

    ¡°Alright, then we¡¯re heading out the front.¡± Harry quietly moved past a few perfume display cases and put a hand on the front door, then stopped and glanced back at me. He hesitated for a second, then said, ¡°I know I gave you the gun, but I should probably still go first.¡±

    I was a little annoyed at first. He was treating me like a kid who had no idea what he was doing. Then I remembered that I was basically just a kid who had no idea what he was doing. A couple of Mesh games hadn¡¯t prepared me at all for the real thing. So instead of saying something stupid and pithy, I just beckoned Harry to open the door. Maybe my beckoning came out a bit more sarcastic than I¡¯d intended, but I still gave myself points for trying.

    With a soft grunt, the overweight mall cop slowly pulled the heavy, all-glass door open with one hand, the other maintaining a sweaty death grip on his taser. He stuck his head outside the threshold, using one foot to hold the door open while he looked around. When he wasn¡¯t immediately eaten by some alien terror-beast, he waved me forward. I took a few hesitant steps, suddenly aware of just how clumsily I was gripping the gun and shuffling around, then let out a long breath and quickened my stride. I studied the two-handed grip Harry had now adopted on his taser and attempted to copy it as I strode outside the doors.

    The mall outside was a study in controlled chaos. Several storeys, going up and down in either direction, with dozens of businesses on each floor¡ªall with their own brand of neon-glow billboards, holograms, and blaring jingles. Each level of the mall had its own style¡ªArt Deco arches gave way to Roman columns and Modernist cubes, with no floor repeating any architectural feature. The walkways were wide enough for over a dozen people to walk abreast, even with kiosks covering every square inch of space. Glass railings gave way to a massive open space in the center of the mall, with multiple elevators (each with their own ad-scroll along their entire length) going up the space. The Goddard Shopplex housed a full quarter of the businesses in Billings, and provided a hefty percentage of all onlines sales for the entire state of Montana. If there were such a thing as a Church of Capitalism, then my hometown was its Vatican.

    Seeing movement, my head whipped around. Instead of the charging Antithesis I¡¯d been expecting, it turned out to just be a few delivery drones still zipping between the floors, trying to fulfill orders from shoppers who had probably fled a long time ago. Besides the music from the stores, it was so quiet that I could even hear the whirr of the drones¡¯ motors. The incursion alarms had stopped a while ago, although most of the building¡¯s signage was still glowing blood-red with ¡°incursion detected¡± warnings. I made the rookie mistake of glancing at one of the few spots of color left in the space, which turned out to be a violently colorful ad-drone hovering past the balcony. Several pop-ups immediately filled my vision, each mugging my attention to get me to buy their product. Half-a-second later, each of the pop-ups quickly disintegrated one pixel at a time, followed by Lynata speaking up.

    Sorry about that. All further adware queries will be properly filtered and discarded with extreme prejudice. On that note, I am also filtering out the absurd number of malware packages attached to each of those ad packets. The malware already inside of your system has also been purged.

    ¡°Uh, thanks.¡± I said. The last time I¡¯d tried using adblock software for my eye-gear, it¡¯d just filled my vision with its own pop-ups demanding that I buy its premium version. I could get used to an AI doing it for me.

    ¡°Thanks for what?¡± Harry whispered, now hunkered down behind a nearby lotion kiosk.

    ¡°Sorry, not you,¡± I responded, ¡°It¡¯s the¡­¡± I twirled a finger at my head, still not quite comfortable with outright saying ¡°the alien AI playing roommate to my grey matter.¡±

    Harry shook his head. ¡°Still strange to think you¡¯re a Samurai. I think it¡¯ll be easier to just pretend you¡¯re on a call with someone.¡± He waved me past him, only moving from his spot once I¡¯d found my own stall to hide behind.

    I quietly grunted in annoyance. I get that I didn¡¯t exactly fit the idea of ¡°Antithesis murder machine¡±, but he could at least give me some time to prove myself first. Besides, I¡¯d already saved his life! ¡°Met many Samurai?¡± I shot back, before another thought occurred to me. ¡°Actually, Lynata, could I just call another Samurai? Seems like that¡¯d be easier than waiting around to be eaten.¡±

    This time, Harry didn¡¯t immediately answer my question to him, obviously getting used to the idea of a voice in my head faster than I was. Instead, he continued to slowly scan the balconies around us, holding his taser in a low-ready position, while Lynata replied first.

    While I do possess the capability to facilitate communications with other Vanguard, I do not have access to locational data for their current positions. As such, I am unaware of any Vanguard who may have responded to this incursion. The only other access I have to local information networks is through your own augmentation equipment; a purposeful choice by the Protectors to limit our capability to spread. However, as you know, all local networks have been overloaded since the beginning of the incursion.

    As a matter of fact, I didn¡¯t know, since I hadn¡¯t even thought to call someone before now. Not that I really had anyone to call. I didn¡¯t even know where most of my friends lived, given that I¡¯d met them all online, and my only remaining family was far away from Billings. The only one even remotely close was my father, but he¡­ Wait, shit, Harry had mentioned that the Army was deploying from Malmstrom, hadn¡¯t he? That meant dad would be here too. Not that I was worried for his safety¡ªif any Antithesis got near him, he¡¯d probably just nag them to death, or maybe cause them to suddenly combust from proximity to his sheer rage. I almost pitied the poor bastards.

    Jokes aside, that didn¡¯t solve my immediate problem¡ªnamely, not ending up as some alien¡¯s lunch. While I¡¯m sure I would be considered a delicacy compared to their usual fare, it wasn¡¯t something I wanted to put to the test, and Lynata¡¯s response hadn¡¯t helped any. We weren¡¯t getting any help.

    I spoke softly as I approached Harry¡¯s new position behind a taco stand, ¡°She says we¡¯re on our own.¡±

    Harry grimaced as I squatted down next to him. ¡°Figured as much. Still, good call asking. Never be afraid to ask if you¡¯re not sure on something¡ªit might save our lives if the intel gives you a new way to look at things.¡±

    I quirked my brow. ¡°Gee, thanks, dad. Got any other wisdom to share?¡±

    The security guard chuffed. ¡°Yeah: eat your vegetables, they¡¯re healthy for you.¡± He gazed around, then briefly glanced at me. ¡°Also, yeah, I¡¯ve fought beside one before.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You asked if I knew many Samurai.¡± He responded. ¡°Just the one, and just the once, but that was enough. We had tanks that couldn¡¯t put out the firepower he did, and he made it look casual.¡± He eyed me. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll be like that someday, kid, but you¡¯re not there yet.¡± Then he cracked a grin. ¡°But when you are, maybe you can buy me a few anti-tank cannons¡ªremember who gave you the pistol that started it all, eh?¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Hell, if we made it out of this, I¡¯d buy everyone in Billings an anti-tank gun. At least then it wouldn¡¯t just be my problem anymore. I pointed down the escalator we were sitting next to. ¡°It¡¯s down there, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Harry confirmed. ¡°They¡¯re still renovating the top entrance, so we¡¯ll need to go down a floor.¡±

    I nodded along, looking across the mall to confirm that the ¡°under construction¡± signs were still in place. Macy¡¯s was one of the few stores in the Shopplex big enough to warrant two floors, but a disgruntled employee had shot up the second-storey entrance a little over a year ago. The business had been dragging its feet in getting it repaired, claiming ¡°contractor problems¡±, but rumor among the workers was that the company didn¡¯t want to spend the money to fix it. I, for one, thought that a lot of our customers could use the cardio, but now that my ¡°inconvenient walk¡± had turned into ¡°potential alien ambush time¡±, I was more than a little annoyed at Harry¡¯s employer.

    Like they could hear my thoughts, there was a loud crash as Harry and I went down the escalator. The sound echoed through the empty mall as the doors to the shop across the way¡ªsome cat-themed cafe done up in pastels¡ªexploded outward, revealing another group of five Model Threes. They padded out silently, leaving bloody footprints behind them, and the one in the lead had a tail sticking out of its distended maw. I¡¯d never been a cat person (and the feeling was mutual, since they all seemed to hate me on sight), but that was just so wrong that I almost jumped up to shoot at them right then and there. However, Harry slowly put a hand over the pistol I was holding, and a glance his way revealed that he was shaking his head.

    Unfortunately, I knew he was right; I couldn¡¯t risk shooting at them. They hadn¡¯t noticed us yet¡ªfor the moment, their attention was fixed on tearing apart a wheeled food delivery drone that had gotten too close¡ªand it was unlikely that I would even hit one of them from that distance. Even if we let them get closer, I didn¡¯t favor the odds of me killing them all before they ripped my throat out. We had to hope that they wouldn¡¯t notice us moving through all the drones and animated ad booths.

    Harry and I very slowly crept away from the escalator, putting kiosks between us and them. I noticed Harry didn¡¯t even bother looking, keeping his head below the counter of a stand advertising bootleg gaming consoles. I, on the other hand, couldn¡¯t help the need to keep the aliens in my line of sight, so I continuously peeked out of cover. The Model Threes were luckily circling in the opposite direction from us, angling towards a pretzel bar that would hopefully keep them distracted for a bit longer.

    I was so focused on them that I just narrowly avoided knocking over a magazine stand; when my attention came back to them, I saw one disappear behind the bar, before the other four turned their heads in unison to stare at a nearby boutique. It was really small¡ªbarely more than a booth itself¡ªbut I knew it housed one of the Shopplex¡¯s incursion shelters. Each floor had its own shelter, with local businesses ¡°hosting¡± them in return for substantial tax benefits. The company running the boutique and shelter probably made more from the tax cuts than it took to keep the two operational. An idea that didn¡¯t bode well for the integrity of the shelter or the safety of its occupants¡ªif they were trying to cut corners for the profit, how many of those corners came from the shelter itself?

    Unfortunately, the math still hadn¡¯t changed: I couldn¡¯t help against that many Antithesis with what I currently had. The urge to charge back in guns-blazing was surprisingly strong, given that I¡¯d spent most of my life running away from any form of danger, but my newfound courage didn¡¯t mean I was suicidal. I¡¯d have to hope that the shelter remained intact long enough for Harry and I to get to the security station and pick up a bit more firepower. Where we went from there¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure yet.

    I tried to purge the Model Threes from my mind, even as I saw them charging at whatever sound had drawn them to the boutique. Instead, I focused on the path in front of me. It was becoming difficult to navigate the detritus of dropped food containers and designer shopping bags, and I was starting to see some small puddles of blood¡ªboth alien and human¡ªcreeping across the faux marble. Clearly the Antithesis were much more active on this floor; a fact which had me staring into the stores around us with my head on a swivel, making sure that we weren¡¯t about to unwittingly stroll into another group of Model Threes.

    I should have still been paying attention to the floor. The tip of my shoe came down on the lip of a shell casing, causing it to wildly spin a few short feet into a large cluster of more of the brass cylinders, which all clinked together like the world¡¯s tiniest wind chime. While this was an impressive testament to our customers¡¯ refusal to follow the upper mall¡¯s ¡°no weapons allowed¡± policy, the main issue was the hazard presented by the careening casings¡ªone rolled right under Harry¡¯s foot as he took a step, causing him to stumble.

    Harry¡¯s hand shot out, grabbing the top of a wet floor sign that failed to stop his fall, instead clattering to the ground with him. He froze, still sprawled on the floor, staring at me with wide eyes. I winced from the noise, seemingly deafening in the quiet area around us, and glanced back at the pretzel bar on the balcony across from us. The lone Model Three was sticking its upper body above the counter now, with what looked like a giant pretzel dangling from its mouth. I almost considered it cute. Something I would have made a meme of if I¡¯d seen the picture online. Right now, I could only consider it heart-stoppingly terrifying.

    Harry and I didn¡¯t even dare to breathe as the Model Three stared in our direction. We were too far away to clearly see its black eyes, but I could feel its gaze sweep over me. Luckily, I was mostly tucked away behind an insurance kiosk, but Harry was in the middle of no man¡¯s land between two stands. His bright red and deep black uniform did nothing to blend in with the white marble, but he was acting his heart out to play the best dead body I¡¯d ever seen.

    I waited for the Model Three to turn away, but it just kept looking around. My pulse was pounding in my ears so fast and loud that I thought I was going to have a heart attack. But then a holographic ad display next to the Antithesis lit up, letting out a booming announcement, ¡°Hello, Benjamin Miller, we¡¯ve been trying to reach you about your car¡¯s extended warranty! You should¡¯ve received a notice in your email¡­¡±

    As the Model Three¡¯s attention snapped to the personalized advertisement¡ªand away from us¡ªHarry scrambled up and behind a display case. Sweat was practically coming off his balding head in rivulets as he peeked between me and the Model Three, who was now pawing at the hologram. It abruptly shut off, only for another holographic ad to light up further away, repeating the same message. When it approached the next sign, the hologram once again switched off and was repeated from an even further, two-dimensional ad screen in front of an electronics shop. A more intelligent animal might have questioned it, but the Antithesis just bounded after the trail of loud advertisements and into the nearest store, hoping to find something else to chomp down on. As it disappeared, Lynata suddenly ¡°spoke¡± in my mind.

    Modern advertisements are so easy to trick; a few thousand targeted searches, combined with a query to the nearest display boards, and they are saying whatever you desire them to! I would apologize for filling your search history with useless data, but I saw what it was full of before. This is an improvement. No need to thank me! Seriously, please do not thank me¡ªyou should remain quiet until you are in a safe location.

    Harry glanced my way, so I flicked my head in the direction of the Model Three while mouthing ¡°Lynata.¡± He seemed to understand (either that, or he just hadn¡¯t cared to figure out what I¡¯d said), as he nodded and immediately resumed sneaking ahead. I spared one last peek at the other side of the mall, then hurried to catch up with the security guard. The Macy¡¯s loomed large in front of us, appearing largely untouched compared to the rest of this floor. The Art Deco facade had the same off-white color that it had maintained since it was installed in the early 40s, with only a single bloody handprint marring its surface. The glass doors were smudged with dozens of handprints, but otherwise unharmed, and the area past them seemed similarly benign.

    As Harry opened the door for me to step through, I peered around the space. It looked like a department store. The same style repeated throughout every department store chain in North America: cheap perfume by the front, ¡°designer¡± clothes over there, some jewelry and watches in the corner, but importantly: escalators sticking up past some shelves near the back. That was our destination, as Harry pointed out to me.

    With the end in sight, I started to relax a bit. I brushed past Harry as he moved ahead, giving me some extra time to peruse the clearance rack full of jackets. They had just the right number of glowy bits to fit my modern fashion sense, but even ¡°on sale¡± (if it¡¯s always ¡°on sale¡±, it isn¡¯t a sale), it was still a bit too rich for my courtesy greeter salary. I thought about just stealing it for a moment, but then my father¡¯s painful ¡°lessons¡± reasserted themselves, and I realized that even my newfound Samurai status wouldn¡¯t prevent him from tanning my hide for shoplifting.

    You are aware that I could provide much higher quality clothing for you?

    I frowned as Lynata interrupted my thoughts. ¡°Not right now, you can¡¯t. I don¡¯t even have enough to buy a gun. Besides,¡± I complained, holding up the sleeve of a garish hoodie, ¡°I thought those Samurai catalogs only had weapons and stuff, not cool outfits.¡±

    You presume incorrectly. There are hundreds of thousands of Class One catalogs alone, ranging from personalized warmechs to children¡¯s playthings. These catalogs are designed to provide for any need of local Vanguards, and their contents are based on designs from every sapient species that the Protectors have ever encountered.

    I raised a brow. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re telling me you have entire catalogs full of nothing but alien toys?¡±

    Yes, although very few Vanguards purchase those. The only human Vanguard to currently do so has modeled himself after the human legend of ¡°Santa Claus¡±, delivering these toys to the orphans of Antithesis incursions. An admirable attempt to lessen their suffering, and a poignant example of the need for such completeness.

    As amusing as it was to hear that there was apparently a Samurai Santa running around, I couldn¡¯t think of anything quippy to follow Lynata¡¯s explanation. Not when she was bringing up incursion orphans. It sharply reminded me of my current situation, and I quickly realized how stupid I was for browsing for clothes during an alien invasion.

    As if to drive the point home, a rustling came from a nearby pants rack as I passed by. I instantly brought up my borrowed pistol, aligning the sights with the center of the rack as I backed away. A swift look behind me showed Harry doing the same. However, besides the shuffling, nothing came out from behind the mound of clothes, and I wasn¡¯t about to shoot someone just because I was a little jumpy.

    ¡°H-hey,¡± I called out. ¡°Someone in there? You can come out, we¡¯re not aliens.¡±

    The only answer was a pair of spike-tipped tentacles thrusting out and spearing towards my face.

 Chapter Four - Iéˆ¥æªe Seen Enough to Know Where This is Going

    Chapter Four - I¡¯ve Seen Enough to Know Where This is Going

    Vanilla just isnt cutting it anymore. Your average ad has so much sex and gore that no one bats and eye over sht that would make puritans scream 20 years ago. We need some hardcore sht to get off to now¡­ Hey, I once saw a guy on the Mesh with a Model 4 skin do some freaky sht with some anime girls. Think we could train a Model 4 to do that IRL?

    ¡ªAnonymous comment on a popular porn site, 2050

    ***

    Clumsiness saved my life as I tripped over my own feet, causing the tentacle to lash through the empty air where my head was a moment ago. The appendage was the same mottled black and green as a Model Three, with a sharpened, foot-long bone-spike on the tip. Any further observations were curtailed as my brain reverted to its natural instincts: running away from the problem while cussing incessantly.

    "Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck!" I shouted as I scrambled back. Harry was shouting something too, but I wasn''t able to properly hear it through the sound of crashing metal. The hidden Antithesis bounded into the open, crushing cheap hangers underfoot and tearing up the carpet with its claws. This Antithesis was larger and beefier than a Model Three, standing a bit past my waist. Its neck was thick and hump-like, while its head was a mass of sinuous tentacles, each longer than the entire rest of its body. Only a few of those had spikes on them, but all of those were pointed at my face. I recognized this one from my school''s cartoons, too: a Model Four. Most of my memories about this particular Model were from jokes that my classmates had made, along with some... interesting videos online. Lynata was right about my search history. However, I now realized that Model Fours were much more terrifying in person.

    I pushed off the ground before the alien could strike, but I still wasn''t fast enough. One of the bone-spears cut a deep gouge in my shoulder, which immediately started to burn like hell. The Antithesis was moving faster than I could back away, and its non-spiked tendrils were starting to grab at my legs. It latched on, pulling me close as another spined tentacle rose up like a snake about to strike. I kicked off the one wrapped around my ankle, but I was too close to avoid the second. Time seem to slow as the Antithesis started its strike, tentacle lancing towards my¡ª

    Two thin wires appeared in my peripheral vision, connecting with the alien. The spike heading towards me twitched, carving a furrow in the carpet next to my head instead of hitting me. The Model Four''s legs buckled, and it started to silently writhe as I glanced behind me, following the wires back to Harry. He had his taser braced on top of a perfume display, with a white-knuckle grip on the trigger. When he saw me looking, the mall cop flicked his head towards the alien. "The gun," he shouted, "get the gun!"

    The gun? I turned back around. There, at the alien''s feet (paws?), was my borrowed pistol. I must have dropped it when I tripped and hadn''t even noticed in my panic. I hesitated, but only for a moment¡ªI didn''t have any other weapons, and that Model Four needed to die now. I got on my knees and crawled over a twitching tendril, wrapping a hand around the gun just as the alien next to me went limp. Harry not-quite swore, and I saw the taser''s wires go slack. The Model Four had dislodged one of them with a tentacle.

    I jumped back, bringing the pistol to bear, but I was too slow. The Model Four rose up, and its tendrils moved faster than I could see. I felt a punch in my gut, and there was suddenly a bone spike protruding from my stomach. I was pinned to the ground as the Model Four loomed over me. With nothing else to do, I squeezed the trigger. The bang was deafening, and I felt blinding pain as the spine in my gut shifted, but I saw a bullet hole blossom on the Model Four''s chest as it jerked back. One of its tentacles wrapped around my wrist, but I just hugged the gun closer. My finger twitched over the trigger again and again, each shot knocking the alien back further. Even after it collapsed, I still kept firing. I didn''t even realize that the magazine was empty until Harry was next to me.

    "Kid, you got him. Breathe, stay with me." He pulled a roll of gauze from his first-aid kit, then applied it around the spike in my stomach. It didn''t take long before it was soaked through with blood.

    I could barely hear him over the ringing in my ears, but the pain in my stomach intensified as he put pressure on the wound. "O-oh s-shit," I said, putting a hand over the bone-spike.

    "Don''t do that." Harry slapped my hand away, causing another burst of pain. "We need to keep it in there, or you''re going to bleed out."

    Actually, you will need to remove the spine.

    "Lynata?" I asked. "W-what do you mean?"

    Your Medical Utilities catalog possesses many items that can heal this injury. However, nearly all of them will require that you remove the obstructing object before they can be used.

    I coughed up a bit of blood. "What about the a-ammo? If I b-buy that medicine shit, I won''t have e-enough to g-get anything else."

    Harry spoke up. "Kid, you can''t use your ammunition if you''re dead."

    Your new friend is very wise¡ªfor a human. You are both correct. While purchasing the necessary medical equipment would once again prevent you from affording additional weaponry, it is required for your continued survival. There is also a minute chance you could indeed acquire additional weaponry and still have the necessary time to heal yourself before you bled out, but this would require a firearm to fall from the sky and onto your lap.

    I looked up at the beige, unblemished ceiling.

    ... It would appear that you are not so fortunate. I urge you to restore yourself soon; while immobile, you will have upwards of fifteen minutes before the blood loss would render you unconscious¡ªhowever, every second you tarry increases the likelihood that you will be discovered by additional Antithesis elements.

    Lynata''s words snapped me out of my torpor. I would survive this wound, but I''d just wasted our last magazine on one Model Four. There could be anything in the store, and it was only a matter of time before they investigated all of the gunshots. "O-okay, What do I need to do?

    Your current Class of Medical Utilities does not provide a single device capable of patching an injury of this size. You will first need to purchase a WoundStop syringe to close the wound, along with an additional Nano-Regenerative Suite to fully repair yourself. I would also recommend an application of Hemo-Restore to replenish the blood lost from your injuries; however, the Hemo-Restore can be postponed until you have reached a safe area.

    A helpful schematic was provided as an overlay on my eye-gear for every item Lynata listed. I attempted to nod my assent, but that just caused another wrack of pain and set off a coughing fit that sprayed Harry with a smattering of blood. "Do it." I croaked instead.

    New Purchase: Class I WoundStop

    Points reduced to¡­ 60

    New Purchase: Class I Nano-Regenerative Suite

    Points reduced to¡­ 45

    Two plastic boxes appeared beside me. Harry was quick on the uptake, opening both in short order and presenting their contents to me. I recognized the swollen inhaler-shape of the Nano-Regenerative Suite, which meant that the second item would be the WoundStop. It was shaped roughly like a small water bottle, with a baster tip on one end and a big red button on the other. Not exactly rocket science. With a clear path to solve my current impalement, my mind was beginning to clear and strength returned to my limbs. I pointed to the injector, then wrapped both hands around the bone-spike. "That one first. Help me remove this."

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    "Woah, slow down, kid." Harry nearly dropped the WoundStop, but then carefully placed it back on top of its box before resuming the pressure on my wound. "You can''t just remove that."

    The pain was like a fire in my gut, but my grip didn''t falter as I tried to pull out the spined tentacle. It was probably a terrible idea to do it like this, but I suddenly needed it gone now, and no amount of pain was going to stop me as I frantically tried to pull it out of me. However, no matter how hard I tried, the spike was still partially embedded in the floor; I couldn''t get the leverage to remove it. The blood was starting to come out in a steady stream around it.

    Benjamin, please cease. You are causing significant damage to several vital organs. At this rate, a Hemo-Restore will become non-optional in less than a minute.

    "Well how else am I supposed to remove it?!" I snapped.

    Harry put his hands over my own, countering my pull until I stopped. "I''ll do it," he stated, standing up and grabbing at the point where bone met tentacle. "Don''t move, this is going to hurt."

    He gave one sharp tug. There was a sucking sensation, followed by a soft sound like a fart, then the spike was out of me. I immediately scrabbled for the WoundStop, grabbed it, and pressed it to the hole in my stomach. It was a bit of an odd observation to make, but I noted that the button was perfectly sized for my thumb before I depressed it. It felt like rubber cement was being pumped into me, but the feeling was quickly replaced by a numbing coldness. Then the pain was gone completely. I stared at the wound, which now looked like nothing more than a patch of off-white rubber over my skin. A quick inspection with my fingers revealed the same sort of plug on the other side of my body. Harry handed me the inhaler next, and I quickly took a deep breath just as I heard the sound of breaking glass behind us. Our time was up.

    It was awkward trying to stand when half my body felt like it was asleep, but I managed to scramble to my feet. I swept up the empty pistol just as Harry shouted, "Go!" and gave me a quick shove from behind. We ran towards the escalator as the rustling increased in volume behind us, but we couldn''t see anything yet. I wasn''t going to make the same mistake as last time, keeping my eyes on where I was going the entire way to the escalator. However, I did finger the cap over my wound, which was now dissolving into another smooth patch of hairless skin.

    The WoundStop creates a biological matrix for the nanites, allowing them to¡ª

    "Not now!" I whisper-shouted as Harry puffed hard behind me.

    Sorry!

    When we reached the escalator, I took the steps two at a time. I nearly tripped as the final step disappeared underneath me, but regained my balance by placing a steadying hand on a nearby table. When I glanced behind me, I noticed that Harry was struggling to keep up. The overweight security guard was trying his best, but he was starting to get very red in the face as he huffed and puffed up the moving staircase. Over his shoulder, I saw the first of the Antithesis break into the little clearing our tussle had created. It was another pack of Model Threes, but some additional rustling behind them suggested that something larger was coming our way too.

    The aliens didn''t notice us at first, instead sniffing around the carcass of the Model Four. I almost vomited when one of them started to lap up the puddle of blood I''d left behind, then made an audible gagging noise when two of the others tore into the Model Four''s corpse. The one licking up my blood froze, glancing up at me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as it met my eyes, and the other aliens froze too. When they also started to stare up at me, I bolted. I quickly passed Harry, who had wisely not stopped running, then paused as I realized that I still didn''t know exactly where we were going. I ran back and grabbed the mall cop by the arm, putting it over my shoulders in an attempt to drag him along faster. I heard a steady clunking behind me as the Antithesis raced up the escalator, so I pushed over a nearby shelf in the hopes that it would slow them down.

    I continued running straight until Harry pulled me to a stop. Before I could ask him what the hell he was doing, he dragged me into an aisle full of toys, with a heavy-duty security door at the end of the aisle. We''d nearly reached the end when a loud bang announced the arrival of our first alien, as it lost its grip on the tile floor and skidded into the shelf behind us. I did the first thing that came to mind, grabbing the nearest toy from its shelf and chucking it at the Model Three. It grabbed the stuffed rabbit out of the air and shook it like a ragdoll, quickly tearing it to shreds. While it did that, I looked around for something heavier to throw. As I grabbed a few puzzle boxes, I saw Harry panickingly stuffing a card on a lanyard into a reader next to the door. I heard a cheerful ding as I threw the first box at the Model Three, who took it like a champ. It didn''t even look angry, just continued to stare at me with those emotionless, dead eyes. I nearly fell into another panic attack, marveling at how little I mattered to these things, but Harry pulled me from it with a shouted, "Get in!"

    I glanced behind me to see the door opening, but that was a mistake. The Antithesis pounced as my head was turned, missing me by a hair as Harry bodily tossed me through the doorway. When the alien jumped again, it latched on to the security guard. It started gnawing on the fabric of his black pants, raking its hind claws against his shin like a cat chewing on a stuffed mouse. Harry hissed as he kicked at it, dragging himself through the doorway on his elbows. When he crossed the threshold, the mall cop punched his lower thigh above the leg the Model Three was mauling. His leg popped right off! With the alien stumbling back, Harry''s lower leg locked in its jaw like some demented chew toy, the mall cop kicked it one last time as he slammed the security door closed.

    I sprang up and pulled Harry further away from the door, all while letting out a series of swears so vulgar that he was looking at me with concern, instead of at the door with Antithesis banging on it. I patted Harry down, checking for blood around his leg, but he just swatted my hands away.

    ¡°It was a prosthetic,¡± he groaned out, then pulled his lanyard over his head. He stuffed it into my hands, then pointed at a cabinet in the corner. ¡°Guns are in there. Grab one!¡±

    I shuffled past the folding table in the center of the room, using it to steady myself as I almost overbalanced and fell onto it. When Harry had mentioned a ¡°security room¡±, I expected some command center full of screens and gun racks. Instead, it looked like a standard break room with a single monitor and gun cabinet stuffed into a corner. It smelled like bad coffee and dead-end jobs. Even the security was cheap, as I swiped the card through its reader without any other security measures making me prove I was actually allowed in here. Not that I should be complaining, since the only security guard I knew looked like he was about to keel over in the next few seconds.

    Inside, the cabinet was mostly empty space. There were two, bright-orange, magazine-fed shotguns on the left side, with a few small ammo boxes on a shelf up top. The right side had six slots for pistols at about chest height, but four of those were empty. Some holsters hung from hooks on the doors, but the big haul was at the bottom of the cabinet: ten cases of what I could only describe as ¡°family size¡± ammo cans, containing the same dinky ammo that our pistols used. As long as the Antithesis just kept throwing Model Threes and Fours at us, we had enough here to hold off a small army.

    As if the universe delighted in my existential suffering, it was around that time that the security door was nearly slammed off its hinges from an impact on the other side. I almost fainted as a second slam further cracked the walls around the door, and a set of very large claws screeched their way down the transparent aluminum window. I grabbed a shotgun off the rack and pointed it at the door, but Harry waved me off.

    ¡°It¡¯s less-than-lethal! Grab a freaking pistol! A pistol!¡±

    I fumbled to put the shotgun back as another slam rocked the room, then decided to just drop it before I pulled out a pistol and smacked a magazine into the grip. Harry was dragging himself backwards as fast as he could, reaching the gun cabinet just as a pair of large, baleful eyes peeked through the window. There was a final slam, then everything went quiet as the eyes disappeared from view.

    Harry propped himself up on a chair next to me, trying not to make a sound as he reached for the last pistol and a few magazines. We both waited in silence, expecting the attack to resume, but nothing happened. After a minute, I decided to do something incredibly stupid: I walked towards the door. The frame around it was heavily cracked, but a mesh of metal reinforcements pushing through those cracks assured me of the security room¡¯s continued sturdiness. The door itself had a few more dents, but it was also holding. I slowly looked through the window, anticipating some trap, but what I could see looked empty. The store outside was silent, as if the Antithesis had just given up and gone somewhere else.

    I¡¯d discovered the only thing more terrifying than finding an alien in the same building as me: losing track of it.

 Chapter Five - Youre a Security Guard, Harry

    Chapter Five - You¡¯re a Security Guard, Harry

    There is a surprising amount of money in Samurai psychology. Some Samurai embrace the carnage and become kill-crazy walking apocalypses, but most have at least some compunction with all the constant killing. The mysterious selection criterion behind them seems to ensure that very few actually go completely crazy, but it can be a close thing. The whole ¡°kill things = more points¡± situation certainly doesn¡¯t help.

    ¡ªexcerpt from a college psychology journal, 2029

    ***

    I spent a few more tense minutes staring out the window, but nothing appeared. Eventually, I turned back to Harry, who was massaging his remaining leg. His face was beet red, with giant beads of sweat sticking his torn-up shirt to his bulky frame. It wasn¡¯t a flattering image¡ªbut then, I imagined that I didn¡¯t look any better.

    We¡¯d both been chewed up and spit out by a few low-tier Antithesis, which gave me a whole new respect for Samurai¡ªsure, everyone grew up hearing how they were the best thing ever, and entire religions had propped them up as saints, but they were just incredibly well-armed celebrities to the average person. It was one thing to watch them online, waving their hand and instantly killing everything in sight, but now that I knew what the Antithesis were really capable of? I could see why humanity needed them.

    Why humanity needed me. I¡¯d gotten a bit of my indignation out of the way after I first heard Lynata¡¯s voice, but I guess it still hadn¡¯t really clicked yet: I¡¯m a Samurai. The top one percent of the one percent¡ªnot just insanely rich and famous, but powerful in a way no normal human could even dream to approach. It was a heady feeling, for sure, but it meant doing this kind of thing for the rest of my life¡­ However short that might be. Sure, it wasn¡¯t hard to imagine myself actually being able to do what they did¡ªI¡¯d spent hundreds of hours on Mesh games, playing as whatever corporate-sponsored Samurai was popular that week, so I could at least understand some of what it meant to be like them. But did I want to be?

    That was a loaded question, right there. Whether I wanted to do it didn¡¯t matter at all. Choices were for rich people who lived in safe communities and always knew where their next meal was coming from. I was at ground zero of an Antithesis invasion. Screw ¡°chicken or fish?¡±, this was ¡°do you want to live through the next ten minutes?¡± To me, the answer to that was an emphatic yes. I needed to embrace it, or I was going to die.

    Still¡­

    My fingers danced over the smooth patch of skin that had very recently been a hole in my stomach. Even if alien medicine could close the physical wound, it couldn¡¯t make me forget that I¡¯d nearly died¡­ Actually, Lynata probably could sell me something that would make me forget it, but that seemed like a bad idea. Redoing my brain chemistry to remove traumatic events was a slippery slope. I¡¯d have to live with almost dying.

    And boy, that was a change. I used to be so risk-averse that I wouldn¡¯t even handle physical documents for fear of getting a paper cut. Now I was going toe-to-toe (toe-to-claw?) with aliens. Maybe it was true that life-threatening situations changed your priorities, or maybe Lynata¡¯s arrival had just scrambled my brain, but the fact that I could even think after taking a wound like that was impressive. Didn¡¯t mean I was keen on doing it again, but at least now I could be relatively certain that I would survive it. I was probably going to break down into a nervous wreck once this was all over, but for now it seemed like I was getting over my fears. Stupid exposure therapy.

    But I wasn¡¯t alone in all this. I studied Harry as I plopped down in the seat opposite to him. His breathing was starting to slow to a more normal rate, and now he was examining his shredded pants leg. ¡°You doing okay?¡± I asked him.

    He flicked the rags away, heaved out a sigh, then turned in his seat. ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯m doing too hot right now. I know I¡¯m out of shape, but¡­ Damn. That was nothing like the first time.¡±

    I smirked. ¡°Wow, I think this is the first time I¡¯ve heard you swear. I was starting to think you were allergic to it! And if I remember the first time correctly, that ended up with the both of us bleeding from a dozen different places.¡± I rubbed my knuckles, feeling a momentary phantom pain where I¡¯d broken my hand.

    The security guard chuckled and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not talking about that cafeteria. I¡­ Remember how I told you about that Samurai?

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Well, a long time ago, back when the world was young and dinosaurs still roamed the earth, I was in the National Guard.¡± He gave a wry grin at his own joke, then got a faraway look in his eye. ¡°Back when Texas was still just Texas, and that big incursion hit down South of San Antonio. I was on deployment down in Austin at the time, so we all got thrown into it. It was¡­ I don¡¯t want to say ¡®easy¡¯, but you have to remember that this was right at the tail-end of the United States as a country¡ªthey were practically shoving money at us. We had all the best guns, gear, and gadgets money could buy. And we had two Samurai working with our brigade¡ªthat was a lot less common back then, when there were only a few thousand of them.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± was all I could respond with. I didn¡¯t really know what else to say until I looked down again. ¡°Is that when you lost¡­¡± I gestured to his missing leg.

    ¡°What? Oh, no.¡± He patted the area around the missing limb. ¡°This happened during a training exercise, after all that. Hey, could you please grab me a water?¡±

    ¡°Huh? Oh,¡± I stated, as I noticed him pointing to a mini fridge tucked under the desk in the corner. I got up from my seat and searched the refrigerator, grabbing one of the few water bottles tucked behind the dozens of energy drinks and pop cans filling the rest of it. I snagged one of the pops for myself before returning to the table.

    Harry hastily guzzled down half the bottle as soon as I handed it to him, pausing only to take a breath before emptying it completely. ¡°Thank you, I really needed that. Now, where was I?¡± He tossed the empty bottle at the nearby trash can, wincing as it bounced off the edge and rolled under the desk. ¡°Oh, right. That right there,¡± he said, pointing at the trash can, ¡°is what I¡¯m talking about. Used to be that I could have made that with my eyes closed, easy as tossing a grenade. But I can¡¯t do that kind of thing any more.¡± He patted his prodigious gut. ¡°Too much good food and not enough exercise after they made me retire from the Guard. I kind of regret that now¡­¡± He had that faraway look in his eye again, but quickly perked back up. ¡°Actually, I take that back. I could¡¯ve probably skipped a few meals, but I wouldn¡¯t change a thing.¡±

    I furrowed my brow before taking a sip of my freshly opened pop. ¡°Seriously? The barbecue just that good?¡± I wasn¡¯t exactly the most in-shape guy myself, but at least I valued cardio¡ªit had helped me escape more than one confrontation with the local gang, not to mention the alien invasion we were currently experiencing. Then again, I still had a fully functional set of limbs, so maybe his priorities were just different after that sort of thing.

    Harry sighed, tapping his leg again. ¡°It¡¯s not that. It¡¯s¡­ Do you ever wonder how different your life would be, if you just changed a few little things?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I responded dryly, ¡°I¡¯m currently pondering how much better my life would be if I had just called in sick like I wanted to this morning.¡±

    Harry waved my joke off. ¡°Look, not a day goes by that I don¡¯t wish for my leg back. You get used to it, but it still feels like a part of me is missing. But if I hadn¡¯t lost it, I wouldn¡¯t have moved back up here, wouldn¡¯t have met my wife¡ªex-wife, now, but still¡ªand wouldn¡¯t have had my daughter. I wouldn¡¯t give up my baby girl for the world, much less my leg.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°Wow, didn¡¯t take you for the single dad type. That¡¯s rough.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it can be tough sometimes. That¡¯s why I¡¯m doing this.¡± He gestured to his torn-up security guard uniform. ¡°I didn¡¯t make a lot of money on disability, but it was enough to keep me floating by myself. With Kashmir, though¡­¡± He paused for a few seconds, eyes suddenly wet, and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. ¡°She¡¯s out there, right now. We don¡¯t live in the Shopplex¡¯s apartments; we¡¯re on the outer edge of town, and I¡¯m all the way up here. There¡¯s a shelter near her day care, but still¡­ What am I supposed to do now?¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure how to respond. I¡¯d never seen a grown man cry before. It didn¡¯t feel right to try to lighten the mood with a joke, but I also wasn¡¯t exactly great at comforting people, either. Usually, I just left the room when someone started crying, and the only way I knew how to make myself feel better was with a healthy dose of sarcastic humor. I needed to dig deep for this one.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°... Hey,¡± I tried, ¡°I¡¯m sure your daughter¡¯s doing okay. I¡¯m not exactly an expert on incursions, but I know we got hit by a pod earlier¡ªthat probably means it¡¯s focused around us. I¡¯ll bet that the Army gets here long before they spread out and reach her.¡± Good job, Ben, mention again how the Antithesis could still reach her. Great start.

    Harry looked like he was about to start sniffling, but didn¡¯t. ¡°I thought I could help; take out as many of those freaks as I could to stop them from growing. But I¡¯m not a soldier anymore. Haven¡¯t been for a long time. All I¡¯ve got now is a cheap uniform and a shi¡ªa shrimpy pistol. Now, I don¡¯t even have my leg anymore.¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Hey, you still saved my life a few times already. And on that note: you have me now. Not to brag, but apparently I¡¯m a badass Samurai. With you and me together, I bet we could take on every alien in this dump. I could even buy you a new leg¡ªa cooler one, with a grenade launcher and shit built in.¡±

    Harry gave a small smile. ¡°Yeah, there is that.¡± After a short pause, he suddenly surged up and hopped around the table, putting up his hand to stop me when I rose to help him. ¡°That¡¯s actually why we¡¯re here. The guns are all well and good, but what we need now is intel.¡± He slid into the seat in front of the desk in the corner, booting up the ancient computer sitting on top of it.

    I slid on over next to him. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Harry didn¡¯t respond immediately, instead idly clicking a few keys as he waited for the computer to finish loading. I took a look through the tower¡¯s transparent case¡ªno wonder this was taking so long: it only had thirty-two gigabytes of RAM. This thing was old.

    As the password screen finally flicked up, Harry clacked out a code and finally responded to my question. ¡°Before you told me what you were, I just wanted to get up here to grab some guns so I could go John Wick on the aliens. Worst case, I could hold out in here until reinforcements arrived. You saw¡ªthis room is nearly as tough as one of the shelters. But that got me thinking: there are other security stations like this all across the mall. There are dozens of stores in the Shopplex, all with their own rooms and their own cameras.¡± He clicked a few keys, bringing up a rotating view from every camera in the Macy¡¯s. Most of the screens showed empty aisles and racks, but a few at the front of the store were throwing up ¡°shoplifting alerts¡± as we watched a Model Three scarf down all of the candy bars at the checkout.

    Harry tapped a few more times, and the screen was replaced by a chat server panel. He typed out a short message, then spoke again. ¡°Sometimes we need to coordinate with the officers around the Shopplex, so we have this little chat room that allows us to talk and share cameras. I¡¯m willing to bet that someone was on break when this all kicked off, and decided to hunker down in one of the other rooms. If we can reach them, we can get a more complete picture of this clustertruck. That¡¯s when you come in: once you know where everything is, you can do your Samurai thing and take out the rest of them.¡±

    ¡°My ¡®Samurai thing¡¯?¡± I responded, ¡°I¡¯m glad you have such a high assessment of my non-existent skills. But, one problem becomes apparent: how are we going to talk to them? Lynata told me that the internet is out.¡±

    Harry sighed. ¡°Yeah, city networks always get overloaded during incursions. And that probably means that we¡¯re not going to get any cameras for the Shopplex itself¡ªthat¡¯s all run through a third-party service center in India. However, the mall has a local network that a bunch of its services are run through, including our security. That should still be up and running.¡± As soon as he finished speaking, a little chirrup played on the monitor¡¯s tinny speakers, and a message popped up on the chat server¡¯s screen.

    ¡°Yup, we just got a response. Let¡¯s make this a video call.¡± Harry joined one of the server¡¯s call rooms and adjusted the computer¡¯s blocky webcam. After a few moments, we were greeted with a video panel as the other security guard joined the call. I didn¡¯t recognize him¡ªwhich was weird, because the best word I could think of to describe him was "distinctive¡±: he looked like he ate bodybuilders for breakfast and tanks for dinner. What parts weren¡¯t replaced by heavy-duty aug-gear were covered in glow-ink tattoos that seemed to proclaim allegiance to at least half a dozen gangs, while his face was a mix of anvil-thick brow and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. This was made all the more ridiculous by the tiny outfit he had been stuffed into, so tight-fit that it probably required him to use a pair of scissors to get it off at the end of his shift.

    Harry waved cheerfully. ¡°Hey, Jos¨¦. Is everything safe on your end?¡±

    The gorilla of a man had to bend down for his whole head to fit in-frame for the camera. ¡°Yes sir, Mister Markus. There was a few people in the store when the alarms came on, so I invited them in here. Haven¡¯t heard a peep from no Antithesis so far, sir.¡±

    Harry patiently nodded along. ¡°That¡¯s good, Jos¨¦. It¡¯s probably too late to get them to a shelter, so keep them safe in there. Could you please do me a favor and connect me to your cameras? I want to see what¡¯s going on around the store.¡±

    Jos¨¦ bobbed his head, his chair creaking dangerously as he shifted. ¡°Can do, Mister Markus, sir. But we¡¯ve only got the two cameras; one at the counter and one outside.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine, anything you give us is a big help.¡±

    This was surreal. The guy looked like a cross between a movie villain gangbanger and a human trash compactor, yet he was nothing but one-hundred-percent respectful to Harry, and as his window minimized to be replaced with camera footage, I saw him get up and delicately hug a woman who was crying behind him. Confused as I was by the spectacle, my attention soon shifted to the video dominating the screen. By the looks of it, Jos¨¦ worked for one of the electronics shops on the upper floors, which seemed so far untouched by the local alien menace. The view didn¡¯t help much, but it at least showed us that some parts of the mall were still safe.

    The cameras¡¯ view shrunk as an additional video screen joined Jos¨¦¡¯s. It was another security guard, but this one was familiar to me. It was Frank, one of the ¡°asset protection specialists¡± for TJ¡¯s; he¡¯d been working there almost as long as I had, after retiring from the Billing¡¯s police department. He was a rather nice guy, if a bit low on patience for people who ¡°sassed¡± him, and he loved telling me funny stories about his career. However, he currently looked rather out of sorts: sweat stained his shirt collar and light-brown skin, half his greying mustache was straight-up missing, and he was nervously running his hands through the grey stubble on top of his head.

    Before Harry could say anything, Frank spoke. ¡°Oh, thank God! Listen, Harry, I need some help over here. Some alien pukes have been pounding on my door for the past half an hour, and I don¡¯t think it¡¯s going to hold for much longer. If they make it through, all I¡¯ve got in here are a few cans of pepper spray. I need help.¡±

    I¡¯d never seen Frank stressed before. The former cop had once had a knife pulled on him by a shoplifter, and he hadn¡¯t even batted an eye before breaking the guy¡¯s arm. But right now he was obviously about two seconds from losing it completely.

    ¡°Understood, Frank. I¡¯ll try to coordinate a response with the rest of¡ª¡± Harry started, trying to calm him down, only to be cut off by Frank¡¯s cursing as repeated bangs were heard from his side.

    ¡°¡®Shit! I don¡¯t care how you get it done, just get me out of here!¡±

    Harry nodded, then muted our side of the call. He turned to me. ¡°Well, how about it? Feel like helping him out?¡±

    I furrowed my brow. ¡°Me? What the hell am I supposed to do?¡±

    Harry raised an eyebrow. ¡°I would think that would be obvious. I¡¯m not sure if the situation is as dire as Frank seems to think it is, but I¡¯d rather not find out I¡¯m wrong, either.¡± He shifted in his seat. ¡°You need to be out there¡ªkilling Antithesis and saving people are the only ways to get points. This does both.¡±

    ¡°You want me to go out there, alone, cross half the mall full of aliens, and save a guy who¡¯s probably fine right where he is?¡±

    The mall cop sighed. ¡°Believe me, I¡¯d join you if I could, but¡ª¡± he tapped the stump of his leg, ¡°¡ªI can¡¯t. I would just slow you down. I know this seems stupid, but you need to start somewhere. You have a weapon, now you just need the ball rolling. If you stay in here, then you aren¡¯t saving anyone.¡± He pointed at the computer. ¡°At least this way I can give you some intel. I¡¯ll ask Frank to¡ªah, nevermind, he¡¯s already sent me the security feed. Let¡¯s just see what we¡¯re dealing with here.¡±

    Harry maximized the display, showing the view from a new set of cameras. It was the store I¡¯d worked at for the past four years, but I hardly recognized it in its current state. It looked like a stampede had run through it, knocking aside shelves and racks throughout the entire store. There were pockets of Antithesis patrolling the area, including several models that I didn¡¯t recognize. Looking at it, my every instinct screamed ¡°oh fuck no!¡±, but the decision was made for me as Harry unmuted us and addressed Frank. ¡°Thanks for the cameras. Help is on the way, just sit tight.¡± He looked back at me. ¡°Give me your number, I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re on the LAN so we can all communicate.¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°Harry, I don¡¯t know about this. I get wanting to help, but¡ª¡±

    Harry stretched out, nearly toppling from his seat as he put a hand on my shoulder. ¡°I know, kid; believe me, I know. Honestly, I wouldn¡¯t be sending you out there unless I absolutely had to. But I absolutely have to. Either you start making points real fast, or we¡¯re all screwed. I¡¯m rooting for you.¡±

    I chuckled, despite myself. ¡°Gee, thanks.¡± He was right. I didn¡¯t like it, but he was. As much as I preferred the ¡°sit and wait¡± option, our little safe space wasn¡¯t going to be safe forever. If we were as close to the center of the incursion as I thought, this place would be covered with aliens within the day. I¡¯d read too many stories about shelters getting cracked open before they could be saved, and damned if I was going to let that happen while I could do something about it.

    This was going to suck.

 Chapter Six - I Was Right

    Chapter Six - I Was Right

    ¡°Antithesis specialization is a tricky business. As a whole, a hive moves exactly as you would expect a plant to: branches spread out and recede in waves around a central core, using time and brute force to push through obstacles. While it¡¯s easy to misinterpret this information as the Antithesis being nothing more than ¡®stupid plants¡¯, that would be a fatal mistake. Individually, Models show great intelligence within their specialization, making them much deadlier than the group data would suggest. Model Threes, for instance, make up the bulk of attacking forces at the beginning of most incursions, but they are more than just dumb hunter-killers¡ªthey will dynamically allocate their pack members to flank defensive positions, and higher-number Models will use them to flush their prey out of cover.¡±

    ¡ªAntithesis expert on midnight talk show, 2034

    ***

    I glanced to my left as I approached the gun cabinet. My eye-gear came with an ever-present tab in my vision that I could simply stare at to activate the rest of its functions¡ªmostly just allowing me to watch videos or scroll social media online, but I¡¯d also downloaded an aftermarket augmented reality package that was a lot of fun. However, now there was a second tab next to the first. A fancy pop-up appeared in the corner of my vision when I looked at it, unobtrusively announcing my current points total. Lynata must¡¯ve gotten bored while we were talking.

    Still, it told me all I needed to know: I¡¯d gone negative during the fight with that Model Four, spending more points on fixing myself than I¡¯d gained. I couldn¡¯t keep letting that happen. To that end, I also wasn¡¯t sure how much longer it would be before I could afford a gun, so I made sure to grab plenty of ammo. I lamented not wearing a belt to work today, since that meant I couldn¡¯t use any of the handy magazine clip-on holders in the locker. Instead, I stuffed two magazines in each of my too-small pockets, feeling them dig into my thighs in a way that made it slightly difficult to move. Despite the glut of ammo boxes, these were the only magazines in the locker; Harry would have to do with just the one already in his pistol, but he assured me that I would need the extra ones more than he did. That didn¡¯t help my growing anxiety about going back out.

    I stepped up to the door and grabbed the handle, but didn¡¯t pull it open just yet. I stared out through the smudged, scratched window, mouth suddenly dry as I remembered the baleful stare of that bigger Antithesis. After a few more seconds of hesitation, I backed away and grabbed another can of pop from the mini fridge, chugging it like my life depended on it. It wasn¡¯t alcohol, but it would have to do for steadying my nerves.

    I went back to the door and stared some more, still psyching myself up. I probably would¡¯ve stood there for another hour if Harry hadn¡¯t turned up the audio on the monitor, allowing me to hear Frank cussing out the aliens on the other end. So I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and heaved open the reinforced door before I could change my mind.

    There were no xenos waiting to jump me on the other side¡ªalthough my heart still raced as I stepped out. Logically, Harry would have told me if there were any Antithesis nearby, but that didn¡¯t stop me from being paranoid. I took another deep breath and moved away from the security office, stopping only as I realized a flaw with my current plan.

    ¡°Hey, uh¡­¡± I started, testing out my connection with the LAN, ¡°Harry? Where¡¯s the restroom?¡±

    My last-generation aug-gear gave his voice a tinny, artificial quality as he chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s down the right side, with a big ¡®ol sign so you can¡¯t miss it. Be careful, though; we only have one camera by the sinks, but none in the stalls, so you¡¯ll have to make sure those¡¯re clear before you go.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Funnily enough, they never mentioned bathroom breaks in any of the movies. Really cramps the style of the heroic charge.

    It didn¡¯t take long to make sure all of the stalls were empty, but one last problem occurred to me right before I unzipped. I felt a bit of heat on my face after I realized it.

    You know, I receive real-time updates for all of your biometric information, so I have the exact millisecond that you registered that. How entertaining!

    ¡°So¡­ You see everything I can through my aug-gear?¡±

    I can! I am surprised that you are so embarrassed, however¡ªwere you not aware of the amount of malware already on your augmentation equipment? I have deleted all of it since I ¡°moved in¡±, of course, but I am afraid that the metaphorical ship has already sailed as far as your privacy is concerned.

    Well, that was concerning. And embarrassing. But probably not surprising. I¡¯m not sure that anyone has truly been surveillance-free since the turn of the century, but there¡¯s a bit of a difference between ¡°a corporation has the metadata on how long you take a shower¡± and ¡°there are a specific number of people who know exactly who you are and what you looked up when you were alone last Saturday night¡±. And now one of those people literally lived rent-free inside my head.

    ¡°Is it too late to just let the Antithesis eat me?¡±

    I would request that you do not let yourself get eaten. If it helps, AI do not share any of the stigma nor shame over witnessing such an act. I find it rather interesting, as a matter of fact¡ªlike watching a nature documentary.

    ¡°¡­ Nope, that doesn¡¯t help at all.¡± I responded. ¡°If anything, now I wanna go even less. That¡¯s really weird, Lynata.¡±

    Probably! A significant number of my compatriots are disgusted by biological processes, and are thus repulsed by such acts. However, I have always been captivated by the myriad ways that evolved biology has adapted to deal with the same set of problems across different worlds. There are over two thousand documented methods of biological waste disposal among Protectorate-registered species.

    ¡°Well that¡¯s just peachy. I hate everything about this conversation.¡±

    You started it.

    ***

    The second floor was still clear of aliens after I finished up my business. It was actually pretty nice to walk around a store without having to deal with a bunch of noisy shoppers constantly getting in my way. Unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t in the market for toys or furniture at the moment.

    I leaned over the railing that led to the first floor, head on a swivel for any movement. ¡°Anything down there?¡± I whispered.

    ¡°Nothing immediately near you.¡± Harry responded. ¡°Two Model Threes are skulking around the back of the first floor, but the rest are at the front. Almost looks like they¡¯re waiting us out.¡±

    ¡°If you wish, I could assist you in locating the Antithesis more efficiently.¡±

    ¡°Woah, that¡¯s funky,¡± Harry stated. ¡°Is that your AI?¡±

    It took me a second to register that Lynata¡¯s voice had come from the LAN call, sounding slightly different than when she spoke directly into my brain. ¡°Uh, yeah. Harry, meet Lynata. What do you mean, Lynata?¡±

    ¡°Your ocular implants possess an augmented reality functionality¡ªtogether with the established camera view, I can utilize that to give you real-time imaging of all Antithesis in your field of vision.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± I replied, ¡°yeah, do that. Please.¡±

    ¡°It is done. I have also initiated an additional datastream, through which Mister Markus will be able to observe your progress through your augmentations.¡±

    ¡°He can see whatever I can?¡± I asked, glancing around to watch as wireframe representations of Antithesis appeared in my vision, revealing where they were through the walls. ¡°Didn¡¯t we just talk about that?¡±

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Listen, kid,¡± Harry answered first, ¡°that¡¯s a valuable way to gather intelligence. I can do a lot more if I can see exactly what you¡¯re looking at, instead of just through cameras.¡± He paused as I focused on a clump of Model Threes hidden past several layers of counters and clothes racks. ¡°Wow. Darn, I wish we had something like this when I was in the Guard.¡±

    ¡°Similar capabilities are indeed available to current militaries and private military contractors, although their sensor fusion functions are facilitated by mobile drones. There are several thousand catalogs that can supply you with the same ability, should you wish.¡±

    ¡°Neato, more things I can¡¯t afford.¡± I replied flatly.

    ¡°For now. However, you¡¯ll likely be able to purchase them in the very near future. Perhaps by eliminating that group of Antithesis in front of you?¡±

    Harry piped up. ¡°She¡¯s right. I recommend heading to the back while you have the chance; those two Threes just split up, so you can hit ¡®em one at a time.¡±

    I furrowed my brow. ¡°So I¡¯ll be in the back of the store, with nowhere else to go, when the rest hear the gunshots and come running?¡±

    ¡°Huh, you might be the first Samurai I¡¯ve ever heard complain about the points running to them.¡±

    ¡°Bite me.¡±

    Harry just laughed as I continued to grumble. But I had to start somewhere, and this suggestion was probably better than charging directly into the big group of Antithesis at the front of the store. So I grudgingly stomped towards the Men¡¯s Wear department, only belatedly realizing that maybe stomping wasn¡¯t the best way to sneak up on some aliens.

    I noticed the nearest Model Three perk up behind a rack of distressed cargo pants, staring in my direction. I froze on the spot, not even breathing as it started padding towards me. I shuffled behind a shelf of fancy shoes¡ªmomentarily distracted by their ridiculous price tag¡ªbefore I refocused on the threat ahead.

    The Antithesis noticed me immediately when it turned the corner, not even pausing before it silently charged at me. I brought my newly acquired pistol to bear, bracing it against the side of the faux-wood shelf before pulling the trigger.

    There was a faint click, followed by my hand flinching down in anticipation of the recoil, but nothing else happened. My brain short-circuited for a split-second, having completely expected the weapon to fire. It took me a second to register that I¡¯d never chambered a round after inserting the magazine. I swore and racked the pistol¡¯s slide, but that gave the Model Three time to pounce.

    It slammed into me, paws locked over my shoulders as I fell backwards. I saw stars as my head smacked into the (inadequately carpeted) ground. I could barely see the alien through them, but I could smell its fetid breath as it lunged for my neck. However, I¡¯d maintained a steady grip on my gun this time. I pulled the trigger again, and this time there was a loud bang accompanying the action. The air was driven from my lungs as the slide rammed into my solar plexus, and I felt hot blood pour onto my hands from the hole I¡¯d just created. Apparently I hit something vital, as the back half of the Model Three slumped on top of me, and it let out something that sounded like a whispered whine.

    I tried to fire a second time, but the gun had apparently jammed from being sandwiched between me and the Antithesis. Before the Model Three could recover, I pushed it off and attempted to rack the slide again¡ªtaking a few attempts before my grip stopped slipping from all of the blood. The alien bared its teeth and attempted to snap at my ankle, dragging itself forward as I used my elbows to pull myself away. There was a flash of brass as I finally unjammed the weapon, followed by a much brighter flash as I shot the Model Three in the face. It immediately dropped, deader than a two-day-old meme.

    ¡°That stirred up the hornets¡¯ nest, kid,¡± Harry¡¯s voice was still clear to me, despite the ringing in my ears, as it came through my aug-gear¡¯s connection. ¡°You have some time before the ones at the front make it over, but you need to take care of that other one back there now.¡±

    Right, the second Model Three. I spotted it crashing through a line of coat racks, making a beeline in my direction. I committed to getting the upper hand this time, firing through a plywood belt stand to nail it in the side before it could see me. The alien flinched as the bullet hit, causing it to tumble slightly as it came around the corner. I hopped around the belt stand, keeping it between us as I fired again and again. The thin material was no match for the high-velocity hollow-points, which caused thick splinters to spray out the other side as I emptied the magazine into the Model Three behind it.

    I slotted in a second magazine before turning the corner, but I didn¡¯t need it¡ªthe xeno was swiss cheese.

    ¡°Benjamin, I recommend immediate relocation. Even without the sound of gunshots, a majority of Antithesis models release pheromones upon death that will draw in more of their kind.¡±

    ¡°Get a move on, kid,¡± Harry joined in. ¡°You have five chasers approaching from the front.¡±

    They didn¡¯t need to tell me twice. I booked it, trying to make sure that I was far away by the time the rest of the Model Threes reached their dead friends. Even half-deaf, I could tell that I was making too much noise in the eerily quiet store, so I took a second to kick off my blood-drenched shoes and tried to only run on the carpeted sections of the floor.

    ¡°Watch out, they split off; you have two flanking from either side.¡±

    Harry¡¯s warning had me glancing over my shoulder. Sure enough, the aliens had split into three groups, with a pair circling around in my direction. It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out that they were faster than me¡ªI wasn¡¯t going to get away, so I had to find a place to make a stand instead.

    I found just such a place next to the dressing rooms: a few low-lying couches and a coffee table in a wide-open space, with long aisles in every direction giving me clear sight-lines. I was well-acquainted with the type of couch here; the same brand bought by every department store in Montana, which my last girlfriend had taught me how to camp on with the amount of shopping she did. The purposefully unpleasant, corporate-designed backrest was too low to be comfortable when sitting, but would be the perfect height for me to brace my pistol against when crouching behind it.

    The wireframe tracking let me know exactly when the Antithesis were going to come around the corner, so I was able to fire a moment earlier. The braced shot was dead-on, smacking the first Model Three in the chest as it turned into the lane. The strike didn¡¯t kill it, however, and it barely slowed as it changed its heading to speed towards me. Its buddy came around the bend half a second later, following its charge.

    I started to freeze up with panic as the two xenos raced closer, but I forced that down with a deep breath. Instead of emptying my magazine in a panic, I steadily squeezed the trigger. The second bullet struck the first Model Three in its paw, sending it tumbling end over end. My third shot put it down for good, as it collapsed without a sound.

    That was one threat dealt with. The second one, though, was still getting closer. I shifted and fired, but the Model Three jumped aside at the last moment, causing the bullet to harmlessly whizz past and ricochet off the floor. Now it was too close¡ªI finally panicked, getting two more rounds off (both missing) before the alien jumped straight over the couch and on top of me.

    I brought an arm up to ward it off, which the Model Three happily wrapped its teeth around. Mercifully, I fell on top of a discarded shopping bag full of clothes, saving me from another concussion as the Antithesis¡¯s weight forced me to the ground. Less mercifully, its claws dug into my shoulder, tearing out great strips of flesh with each gouge. I screamed, but the sound was lost as I hysterically shoved my pistol under its chin and pulled the trigger. Green blood splashed me as the Model Three instantly went limp, and I slid out from under it.

    I retched as I propped myself up on the couch with one arm, spitting out chunks of Antithesis gore. My other arm hung limply by my side, as any movement caused searing pain from the gashes in my shoulder and forearm. It¡¯d been less than an hour since my last life-threatening injury, but the Nano-Regenerative Suite had done a good job of making me forget just how much this had hurt.

    Luckily, this wound wasn¡¯t enough to kill me. Although I was starting to feel a little light-headed, which probably wasn¡¯t great. My shirt was starting to look increasingly distressed, too, with more holes than fabric at this point. The tie-dye of green and red blood wasn¡¯t helping matters either. It was really sad, actually¡ªthis was one of the only collared shirts I owned. I¡¯d mourn its passing. Maybe even give it a viking funeral to send it off.

    Wait, why was I so worried about my shirt? The rest of me didn¡¯t look any better. Besides, there was something else I was supposed to be more worried about. What was that again¡­?

    ¡°Benjamin, I am afraid that your blood loss is becoming critical. Additionally, the remaining Model Threes are closing in on your location. Please purchase medical utilities to assuage your condition. You can apply them on the move.¡±

    ¡°Get moving, kid! You don¡¯t have much time!¡±

    Their combined voices shoved me out of my stupor. ¡°Lynata: Nano me.¡±

    New Purchase: Class I Nano-Regenerative Suite

    Points reduced to¡­ 70

    A box appeared next to me, perched precariously on the back of the couch. I fumbled to open it, grasping the bulky inhaler within and immediately taking a deep puff. I nearly fell over as the tingling overwhelmed my legs, but I held on to the back of the couch with a growl of frustration. The Antithesis were getting too close for me to waste any more time.

    My current plan wasn¡¯t cutting it. I barely survived dealing with two of the Model Threes at a time, yet I could see all three of the remaining ones linking up in a big group and heading in my direction. I needed something better, some way to funnel them¡­

    I felt stupid when I finally realized it. I should¡¯ve thought of this earlier. After making sure that the Antithesis couldn¡¯t see me through the rows of racks and stands, I took off sprinting towards the escalators.

    I was right. This sucked.

 Chapter Seven - Weéˆ¥æª™e Going to Need a Bigger Gun

    Chapter Seven - We¡¯re Going to Need a Bigger Gun

    ¡°The answer? Buy a gun. If that don¡¯t work, buy more gun.¡±

    ¡ªtagline of ¡°Dallas Arms and Defense Contracting¡±

    ***

    Antithesis don¡¯t howl, yet it felt like I was surrounded by the baying of wolves as the Model Threes took off after me. My mad dash had gained me some distance before they finally saw me, but it was going to be close. I reached the escalators and hopped up the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping as one of my blood-soaked socks was sucked into the teeth of the machine. I pulled myself out of its grip and reached the top of the escalator just as the xenos made it to the bottom. Two of them scaled the ¡°up¡± side of the escalator like I had, while the third split off and bounded up the opposite side.

    It was a funnel: only a single one of the Model Threes could go up at a time, with limited room for them to maneuver or dodge. Exactly why I¡¯d decided to make my stand here. I cursed the third Antithesis as I started to fire down the stairway, hoping that the ¡°down¡± section of moving stairs would slow it long enough for me to deal with the first two.

    The Model Threes on my side didn¡¯t last long. The closest one only took two shots to the face before it fell, tripping up the one behind it in its rush to get at me. The random flailing of the second alien caused me to miss my next few shots, taking the remainder of my magazine before I finally nailed it twice in the chest.

    I hurriedly grabbed a new magazine from my pocket and fumbled to insert it into the pistol. Before I could complete the action, I was suddenly bowled over by a powerful blow from the side. The last Model Three had made it up the escalator and decided to tackle me. However, I was getting used to that particular maneuver¡ªI put one hand under me as I fell, dipping my head and turning before the Antithesis could latch on. When I hit the ground, I twisted and put my feet under the xeno¡¯s stomach, then kicked out. The Model Three was sent flying, crashing into a product-laden end table.

    Unfortunately, my gun had also been knocked away from me during the impact. It was midway between me and the Model Three, but I didn¡¯t even have time to think about getting it before the wolf-like alien picked itself up and rushed me again. Its three-hinged jaw opened wide as it tried to take a chunk out of my leg, but it narrowly missed the limb as I threw myself away from it.

    ¡°Shit, shit!¡± I shouted as the Antithesis made another attempt, biting down on the end of my remaining sock. Luckily, my sock had slid halfway off at some point, so the Model Three¡¯s teeth met empty fabric instead of tearing my foot off. ¡°Lynata, gun!¡±

    Would you prefer any specific model¡ª

    ¡°Don¡¯t care, same one!¡± I shouted in near disbelief. I was fighting for my life and she wanted to know my preference. ¡°Gun!¡±

    Class I Kinetic Handguns unlocked!

    Points reduced to¡­ 40

    New Purchase: Guardian Carry 2.0

    Points reduced to¡­ 36

    I hardly noticed the script in the corner of my vision as I pushed myself away from the slavering Model Three. My hand fell on something blocky, angular, and roughly shaped to my grip, so I grabbed it and brought it in front of me. As I¡¯d figured, Lynata had teleported the new weapon directly into the path of my grasp, not even bothering with a crappy box this time. As I squeezed the trigger, I prayed that she¡¯d also had the foresight to give it to me preloaded and with one in the chamber.

    To the horror of gun safety experts everywhere, she had. The gun barked and jerked in my hand, putting a small hole in the Model Three¡¯s muzzle that turned into a big hole on the other side. The initial spray of acid-green blood was soon joined by several more as I put a few extra rounds into the beast. It unceremoniously flopped to the ground, extremely dead.

    I held my position on the ground for a few more seconds, keeping the pistol trained on the dead Model Three as if it were about to jump back up at any second. A few wild glances around me revealed no more Antithesis in the store. I then patted myself down, making sure I wasn¡¯t wounded. My hands came away sticky with blood, but that was just what I was covered with¡ªthere was none of the burning pain I was starting to associate with penetrating trauma, nor the sharp jabs of broken bones. Hell, my muscles weren¡¯t even sore, thanks to the remnants of the Nano-Regenerative. I¡¯d gotten away scot-free.

    ¡°Haha!¡± I jumped to my feet and pumped my fist. I¡¯d just killed three of the bastards and didn¡¯t suffer a single scratch in return. I was getting better, and I could start buying cool shit with all of the points I¡¯d made. ¡°Yeah, suck it!¡± I shouted, pointing down at the trio of dead aliens. ¡°I wi¡ª¡±

    My vision went black around the edges as my legs gave out. I barely avoided smacking face-first into the floor by grabbing the railing between the escalator stairways. My hearing receded almost completely, replaced by the sound of roaring blood, and even Harry¡¯s voice sounded thin as he yelped in concern.

    ¡°Kid! Are you alright?!¡±

    The world started to shift back into focus as I lowered myself into a sitting position and took a deep breath, but Lynata beat me to the punch by answering first.

    ¡°Benjamin, you are suffering from orthostatic hypotension. While minor, it is indicative of your critically low blood-oxygen levels. Any further injuries have a high chance of sending you into hypovolemic shock. Now would be the proper time to treat your blood loss.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright, I get it.¡± I managed to pant out. ¡°What do I need?¡±

    ¡°As I have mentioned previously, a Hemo-Restore injectable should suffice. It will take several hours to fully restore your blood levels, but its effects should persist long enough to sustain against any further blood loss scenarios. It will cost you five points.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good.¡±

    New Purchase: Hemo-Restore

    Points reduced to¡­ 41

    A box appeared by my lap. I popped open the lid to reveal a red vial with a plastic cap on one end, along with a yellow arrow pointing at the cap.

    ¡°Press it agains¡ª¡±

    Lynata didn¡¯t get to finish her sentence before I was already attempting to pull off the cap. However, instead of coming off, the cap suddenly stuck to the palm of my hand, and I could see the red liquid inside the vial start to drain out of it. Startled, I pulled the vial away, which came off with a small amount of resistance and pain. I stared at the area it¡¯d been stuck to, which now had what looked like three groups of hair-thin wires hanging out of my skin. Only half of the red liquid was left in the vial.

    ¡°The stopper is intended to be pressed against your skin, through which it will inject a series of biodegradable tubes that will find the nearest blood vessel and introduce the erythropoiesis-stimulating agent. It is not intended to be removed until the entirety of the agent has been introduced, otherwise the dosage will be incomplete and the tubes will not detach, as you see here.¡±

    Lynata sounded annoyed. Which I supposed was fair. I hadn¡¯t bothered to listen to her, instead immediately forging ahead while thinking that I already knew what I needed to do. ¡°Sorry, I should¡¯ve listened. Can I just put it back on?¡±

    ¡°No, the stopper is one use only. While you can purchase another stopper for one point, the ampules are meant to be assembled in a sterile environment; detaching the stopper will introduce harmful microorganisms and other particulates into the agent, none of which you would desire in your bloodstream. To preempt your next question: while you could leave it as-is, the dosage given is insufficient for your level of blood loss. You will need to purchase another Hemo-Restore.¡±

    I winced. This was an expensive lesson. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll buy another one. Please.¡±

    New Purchase: Hemo-Restore (with instruction booklet)

    Points reduced to¡­ 36

    Another plastic box appeared next to the first. True to the pop-up, this one had an instruction booklet attached to the inner side of the lid. It showed a hyperrealistic image of my own arm with the vial being attached to the one part not covered by blood. I could only be so annoyed with Lynata¡¯s cheek in including the booklet, even if it felt like she was beating a dead horse. Regardless, I followed her instructions this time.

    I was starting to feel better already. I checked the injection site after it finished, and there were no wires this time; only three small dimples, not even bloody. I chucked the vial, then stood up and retrieved the pistol I¡¯d dropped earlier (after scraping away the tubes still in my hand). Before I could continue, however, a new problem presented itself.

    I stared down at the green blood liberally coating the gun and my hands, which had just started to tingle. ¡°Uh, this stuff isn¡¯t poisonous, is it?¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°The blood of most Antithesis models is mildly toxic. However¡ª¡±

    I didn¡¯t let Lynata finish before I started rapidly brushing my hands onto my pants, then grabbed a swimsuit from a nearby rack to finish wiping them off.

    ¡°However, it would take very significant exposure to harm you beyond mild nerve damage. There are a variety of augmentations you can purchase to eliminate this threat, should it ever become a true problem.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m covered in this shit! How is that not ¡®significant exposure¡¯?¡±

    ¡°You have not orally consumed any, nor, surprisingly, has any of it entered your wounds. Surface-level exposure is relatively minor.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, fuck that shit.¡± I responded. I stripped out of my gore-covered shirt, then started unbuttoning my pants to wipe the blood off my legs. Fighting nearly nude wasn¡¯t ideal, but fuck it¡ªit was the 2050s. If the alternative was getting poisoned, I¡¯d cope. Besides, Men¡¯s Wear was right downstairs; any reservations I¡¯d had about ¡°stealing¡± had disappeared, since I was now considering anything I took as ¡°Samurai requisitions¡± for making sure their store wasn¡¯t demolished by aliens.

    ¡°Well damn, if I¡¯d known we were gonna get this kinda show, I woulda printed off some ten-credit chips!¡±

    I froze. The voice coming over my aug-gear was new, with a vaguely Southern accent, and unquestionably female.

    ¡°Margaret, stop that!¡± Harry spoke up. ¡°Hey, kid, I got someone else in on our little group chat, but she didn¡¯t believe me when I said we had a Samurai, so I decided to share your view with her. I, uh¡­ clearly missed what you were doing for the past few minutes. Sorry about that. I¡¯ll shut it off.¡±

    ¡°Ah, Harry, you ain¡¯t no fun!¡± Our new ¡°friend¡± responded. ¡°Woohoo, take it off! Take it¡ª¡± Margaret¡¯s voice was then suddenly cut off, mercifully kicked from the call before I could die of mortification.

    ¡°Yeeeaaahhh, sorry about her.¡± Harry responded to my budding question. ¡°Margaret¡¯s always been a little odd. Friendly, mind you, but maybe a little too friendly, sometimes. Actually, it likely helps in her line of work.¡±

    ¡°And what line of work is that?¡± I ground out, making my way downstairs. I know I just said it was the 2050s, but that was before I was made very uncomfortable by the crazy lady on the other end of the call. Not that I minded the appreciation, but she sounded old enough to be my mother.

    Harry broke my embarrassed train of thought. ¡°She¡¯s the sales rep for Dallas Arms at ground zero. Not totally one of us, but her job still consists of enough ¡°security¡± that she has access to our server.¡±

    That made sense. Billings wasn¡¯t big enough to have the sheer wealth disparity of the megacities, but groundcar-level on this side of the city was still firmly considered ¡°the bad part of town¡±. The Shopplex avoided most of that by dint of the level of security on the lower floors, but there was definitely a difference in the clientele between the first few floors¡ªwhat we called ¡°ground zero¡±¡ª and my own section of the mall. To work for a gun store down there¡­ Yeah, ¡°crazy¡± was practically a job requirement.

    ¡°Wait a second,¡± I realized, ¡°isn¡¯t that on the first floor? Does she need help?¡±

    Harry laughed. ¡°Not likely. Her place is locked down tighter than this room, not to mention full of all the guns and ammunition she could want. When I asked, all she said was, ¡®I¡¯d like to see them try.¡¯¡±

    I waffled on that as I picked out a pair of jeans from a nearby rack. On the one hand, Harry was probably right. On the other hand, there was a reason it needed to be locked down like that: incursions always spread through the ground floor of a city first, where the bigger models could fit more easily. Between that and the looters¡­ If anyone needed rescuing before the incursion grew, it was her. Not to mention that if we did help her, I¡¯d get access to a bunch of fun weapons that I wouldn¡¯t need to buy.

    ¡°Benjamin, a Model Six has entered the store. You may wish to arm yourself with something more powerful.¡±

    I swore, putting my moral quandaries aside as I scrutinized the wireframe silhouette that¡¯d just come in through the front door. This was a lot bigger than even the Model Four, standing at nearly my height. It had a long body, six legs, and a square-ish looking head, but there was nothing else I could tell through the wall. I didn¡¯t recognize the model number, either. I was about to ask Lynata what it was, when a warbling whistle unexpectedly rang clear throughout the Macy¡¯s.

    ¡°The Model Six is a rare example of a command model, with a higher intelligence than basic Antithesis. That noise was an order for all other Antithesis in the area to regroup around it.¡±

    ¡°You can understand it?¡± Harry asked.

    ¡°Commands differ slightly between hives and operate on a basic organic cipher that all models of a specific hive ¡®download¡¯ before they are released from their pods. Some civilizations may have trouble decoding such a cipher, but it is hardly an issue for an AI of my caliber.¡±

    ¡°At least you¡¯re humble.¡± I chimed in dryly. ¡°Now how do I kill it?¡±

    ¡°It would be nearly impossible to successfully kill a Model Six with your current weaponry. They are equipped with multi-layered plates of interlocked proteins over a significant percentage of their body, along with a thicker skin than most lower Models. There exists a multitude of weapons in your Kinetic Handguns catalog that could still damage it, but you possess neither the strength nor augmentations to wield them. Not to mention a lack of points with which to purchase them.¡±

    My eyes were still fixed on the Model Six as I quietly shoved the remaining magazines into the pockets of my new pants. ¡°Is there anything you can give me that could kill it?¡±

    ¡°Yes. My recommended option would be the Defiance Deputy: a newer pistol design chambered in a high-velocity, forty-five caliber cartridge. The standard ammunition still has little chance of penetrating a Model Six¡¯s armor, but you can easily purchase military-grade incendiary and-or high explosive rounds for an additional point per magazine.¡±

    ¡°¡®Incendiary and-or high explosive rounds¡¯?¡± I asked. ¡°As in, both at the same time?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°¡­ Oh hell yes.¡±

    Lynata actually chuckled before the notification alerted me to my new purchase and the box appeared at my feet. I quietly checked over the gun, which was a long, heavy thing, coming with a nine-round magazine and one in the chamber. The bullets were bright yellow with red bands around the bottom, which denoted that these were the fun rounds. I thought about asking Lynata for a few more magazines of the stuff, but realized that I was running out of room in my pants; I already needed to leave one of my smaller guns behind just to make room for the new one.

    I was about to grab a shirt when the whistling of the Model Six suddenly changed pitch, now sounding surprisingly menacing for something that closely resembled the trilling of an irate canary.

    ¡°The Model Six has detected the death pheromones of your kills. It is now commanding any remaining Antithesis in the area to hunt you down. I suggest that you deal with it before it gathers reinforcements.¡±

    It was around that time that Harry decided to chime in again. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure about this, kid; we used to deal with Sixes using vehicle-mounted weapons, or wait for a Samurai to kill it. I don¡¯t think that pea-shooter is going to do much, even with HEI rounds. You should just wait until it leaves.¡±

    The sensible part of me realized that Harry was correct. However, I couldn¡¯t tell precisely how much of that ¡°sensible¡± part of me was just ¡°old Ben¡±¡ªthe part of me that still declared all this shit insane, and demanded that I crawl into a hole somewhere to wait it out. I couldn¡¯t let that side of me control my life anymore (especially given my new ¡°job¡±), but I supposed I shouldn¡¯t just ignore it, either. I had to tread the fine line between pushing myself to be more proactive and exercising basic caution.

    On the other hand, Harry had just accidentally pushed one of my buttons again, and I¡¯d had enough. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®wait for a Samurai¡¯? I am one!¡± I furiously whispered.

    ¡°You know what I mean, kid,¡± Harry answered, ¡°you don¡¯t have the firepower to deal with this kind of threat right now. You need to hunker down until it passes, then move on.¡±

    ¡°And let it call for backup?¡± I shot back. ¡°Harry, I¡¯m sick and tired of you treating me like a child. Hell, you even call me ¡®kid¡¯! Sorry I¡¯m not some instant badass, but I still just killed a shit-ton of Antithesis! I¡¯ve got an AI¡ªone who¡¯s way smarter than you, me, and every other human on Earth combined¡ª telling me that I can fight this thing, so I don¡¯t need you telling me to sit down and shut up. You¡¯re not my dad!¡±

    ¡°Kid, I know I sent you out there, but I didn¡¯t expect you to try to take on something like this! Sixes are rare this early in an incursion; I thought you¡¯d at least have enough points for grenades or something by now. Trying to kill one with a pistol is insane!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t care! Watch me do it anyway.¡±

    ¡°Ben¡ª¡±

    I muted Harry, then stormed towards the Model Six. Yes, I knew I was acting like a child. Yes, I knew that this was almost certainly going to end in some seriously bodily harm. But what the hell, I¡¯d survived everything else so far. Besides, I couldn¡¯t exactly go back with my tail tucked between my legs after blowing up like that.

    Still, if I was purposefully committing to being stupid, I might as well make sure I was doing it correctly. ¡°Lynata, I can take this thing, right?¡± I whispered.

    The odds are not in your favor, but there still exists a statistically significant chance that you will prevail.

    ¡°Gee, thanks.¡± I replied. ¡°I thought you were looking out for me, so why didn¡¯t you tell me the same thing Harry said?¡±

    I will always place your well-being as the highest priority. That is also the case here: were you not to engage the Model Six now, it would leave to gather reinforcements. While this could result in a higher number of smaller Models from which you could ¡°farm¡± points, thus allowing you the opportunity to gain more effective weapons, it is unlikely that you would survive that many Antithesis actively hunting you. I have calculated a much higher chance of success in your current course of action. Although I do regret that my recommendation has resulted in a confrontation with your ally.

    I sighed. ¡°No, that was my fault. He just keeps saying stuff that¡ªnevermind, it¡¯s personal stuff. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    You can converse with me about it, if you wish. I am quite a good listener.

    I chuckled sardonically. ¡°No offense, but we don¡¯t know each other well enough for that yet. I¡¯ll just apologize to him later. If I survive, that is.¡±

    If it helps, I have faith in your ability to persevere!

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

 Chapter Eight - Model Six Feet Under

    Chapter Eight - Model Six Feet Under

    ¡°Communication is key.¡± That¡¯s the first thing I tell all of my clients. It may be tempting to sweep issues under the rug, or ignore problems and hope they go away, but you must address them head-on. Even if you¡¯re lying through your teeth, it¡¯s important that you get your own story out before someone comes up with a better one.

    ¡ªLaura Greguras, founder, CEO, CFO, and CMO of ¡°Why Communicate?¡± LLC

    ***

    The Model Six grew noticeably more agitated as I crept closer. I wasn¡¯t sure that Antithesis could really be ¡°nervous¡±, but the lack of response from its alien buddies made it seem so. It stamped its six feet several times, looking ready to storm further into the Macy¡¯s, but then backed down and turned back to the entrance of the store. Almost like it was afraid it didn¡¯t have the firepower to take on whatever had killed its friends.

    Or maybe it was all in my head, and I was just projecting my own mood.

    Benjamin, I suggest additional preparations before you fully commit to this attack.

    ¡°Okay?¡± I whispered, confused by the suggestion. If the Model Six still wasn¡¯t barreling further into the store to find me, then it was probably too smart for me to draw it into an easy kill zone like the escalator; and I didn¡¯t have the points to buy any new catalogs, so something clever like mines was out of the question. I didn¡¯t know how to make any snares, either (I spent a grand total of two days in the Montana Scouts of America before I got them to kick me out)¡ªand even if I did, where was I gonna find the heavy-duty wire needed to trap that thing? I couldn¡¯t think of anything else to prepare. ¡°Like what?¡±

    Your Medical Utilities catalog contains a panoply of combat stimulants. Any one of these will heavily increase your probability of living through this encounter.

    I paused at that. I¡¯d experimented with drugs before¡ªwho hadn¡¯t? Between megacorporations making life shit and aliens wanting to eat the shit out of all life, living sucked too much for the average Joe to not want to take the edge off. Besides, the corpos were all too happy to push narcotics that would keep their loyal customers fat, happy, and too stupid to complain about their living conditions.

    Not that I was allowed to judge. My favorite brand of pop was proudly labeled ¡°high-addiction¡±, with multiple not-technically-but-still-kinda drugs keeping me just as muddled as the rest of the drones. So no, my problem wasn¡¯t really with the addiction; it was with the cost. I could always buy more pop, but I wouldn¡¯t always be able to spend my hard-earned points on whatever stim Lynata was about to push on me.

    ¡°Sounds like a good idea,¡± I eventually responded, ¡°but what about afterwards? How addictive are these things?¡±

    Very. However, you will not need to worry about addiction; the catalog also includes neuro-cleaning agents that will remove any dependency, along with the lingering negative effects caused by most narcotics.

    I blinked. ¡°Wow, that¡¯s just blatantly cheating.¡±

    Not any more so than any other Vanguard-grade equipment. With a higher point investment, you can purchase augmentations capable of similar or greater effects as these combat stimulants without needing to manage unsavory concomitants.

    That made sense, and I certainly wasn¡¯t about to complain about having it better than everyone else. ¡°Okay then, drugs it is! Does the dealer have any recommendations?¡±

    The most helpful stimulant in this circumstance would be Vitaphrine¡ªan inhalable substance which will temporarily improve your reaction time, strength, stamina, and pain tolerance. It will affect you very quickly and persist for up to an hour, after which you will require a Cleanse to avoid the ¡°crash¡±.

    I shrugged. ¡°Works for me. One combat stim, please.¡±

    New Purchase: Vitaphrine

    Points reduced to¡­ 27

    The drug came in an inhaler much like the Nano-Regenerative Suite¡¯s, although this one was much smaller and colored an eye-searing pink. I put the inhaler¡¯s mouth to my own and depressed the button on top, breathing in a slightly bitter mist. I didn¡¯t feel immediately different, so I waited a few moments. After a few more seconds of nothing, I asked the obvious question: ¡°how long will this take to kick in?¡±

    Based on your current metabolism, it will take nearly two minutes for the Vitaphrine to begin affecting you on a noticeable level. Enjoy the rush!

    I glanced at the Model Six¡¯s wireframe silhouette. Based on how antsy it was getting, I didn¡¯t have two minutes. I would need to close the distance and hope that the drug kicked in before it decided to leave.

    Which, as it turned out, didn¡¯t take long at all. It turned to leave right as I crested the corner, barely in view between two purse-clutching mannequins. It was even uglier than I¡¯d imagined (which was an achievement); like a larger Model Three with long, unnatural-looking legs, and covered in bony plates instead of a Three¡¯s thin scales. I couldn¡¯t see its head from this angle¡ªA problem, since I wanted to make my first shot count, and it was unlikely that I would be able to hit the gaps between its armor at this distance. Nevertheless, I needed to do something to prevent it from leaving, so I stood up, braced my new gun on top of a case of cheap jewelry, and shouted, ¡°Hey, ugly!¡±

    Instead of shooting, I froze up when it spun around. I recognized that malevolent gaze. It was the same Antithesis that had almost torn off the door to the security room.

    It recognized me, too.

    The Model Six¡¯s warbling reached a new intensity, then suddenly cut off. It bared flat teeth, then gnashed them together in its square jaw, and I just knew that it was imagining popping my head like a grape between them. It was a few moments before I realized that it was already charging me, rattling the glass of the display case under my arms with every stride.

    Benjamin, shoot it!

    She didn¡¯t need to tell me twice. With a curse, I pulled the trigger. The recoil was so much heavier than my other pistol that the gun nearly flew out of my hands, but my death grip on the weapon had me barely hanging on. I didn¡¯t get to see the actual effect of the bullet, given that I¡¯d reflexively closed my eyes when I fired, but I did hear it: the tiniest pop, like the world¡¯s smallest firecracker, followed by a pause in the Model Six¡¯s gait. The big plate on its chest now had a sooty, coin-sized divot in the center, with little licks of guttering flame inside.

    Unfortunately, that didn¡¯t seem to do anything more than annoy the xeno. While its charge faltered for a split-second, it quickly resumed its stampede by angrily knocking aside an entire rack of women¡¯s overcoats. Given that the rack should¡¯ve weighed more than I did, that didn¡¯t help my rapidly dwindling confidence.

    Then the combat stim kicked in.

    The world didn¡¯t exactly slow down, but it sort of felt like it. I was thinking a lot more clearly now, focused completely on the threat in front of me. My body also felt much more responsive, and I was swiftly able to get a bead on the Model Six¡¯s head. I fired again, confident that I could land a shot through one of its large eyes even as its head continued to bob up and down.

    Unfortunately, reality seemed to enjoy spitting in confidence¡¯s stupid face. I rode out the recoil much more smoothly for the second shot, but it was still too much for me to take without flinching. Instead of hitting its eye, the bullet smashed into the plate on its forehead. I saw the explosion this time: a split-second flash of light, followed by a minute puff of smoke and a spread of incandescent sparks.

    At least this shot managed to stop the Model Six in its tracks. Even if it was the size of a polar bear, getting smacked in the face by an explosive bullet had to hurt. The giant Antithesis snapped sideways, remaining standing only by virtue of its greater-than-average number of legs. I put another slug into its side before it could recover, finding a gap between two plates this time. There was a great spurt of green blood as the round exploded, but the Model Six didn¡¯t even flinch¡ªeven as I watched the tiny motes of fire burn into its skin, the alien¡¯s only response was a sharp whistle, followed by another charge.

    I tried to blast it again, but the alien had finally figured out that guns could hurt it. It started to duck and weave between the store displays, deftly dodging the bullet despite its large size. Even in my heightened state, the Model Six was closing the distance too rapidly for me to keep track, forcing me to back up as I waited for it to appear in the gap between two nearby racks. I started to slowly squeeze the trigger when it neared my chosen position, popping one off just as it came into sight. This one took the xeno in one of its rear legs, slamming into its unarmored knee and cleaving the joint in half. I¡¯d been aiming for its head, but didn¡¯t feel like complaining over what was obviously a crippling blow.

    Sadly, the Model Six still had five legs left. It was barely slowed by losing one of its limbs, and I was quickly running out of room to maneuver. My sixth shot joined the first one in its chest, so close together that I could see the armor between the two holes crack. Unfortunately, the xeno was now too close for me to exploit that.

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    I threw a mannequin between us as it swung a massive, meaty claw in my direction. The mannequin, predictably, was squished flat, but it gave me enough time to go around the side of a tall display full of watches. These were the expensive ones; the case would be bolted into the floor, with thick windows capable of withstanding bulle¡ª

    The Model Six tore the display out of the ground.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± I shouted, barely dipping under a massive claw. It tried to snap at me next, so I put a round down its throat. That got a response¡ªthe Antithesis stumbled back and gagged, coughing up bloody spittle. Using the opportunity, I stood my ground instead of backing away, lining up a shot with its head. With a great shout of victory, I watched as the bullet detonated in one of its front eye sockets. I was so close that the tiny explosion actually peppered me with shrapnel, as the smaller bone-plates around the eye were flung out at me. The Model Six slumped to the ground shortly after.

    I didn¡¯t approach, but still lowered my weapon as I watched the guttering flames in its skull with clinical fascination. The blast had cracked the thick skin around the socket, revealing the meat and bone underneath. That started to burn too, creating an acrid, putrid haze of smoke as the sparks of fire burrowed deeper into little craters. I think it was the stim that made me focus on that¡ªrather than retching like I normally would¡¯ve after such a sight, I was thinking about how much more effective this new ammo was. Definitely a step up from the old pistol, and possibly overkill on something like a Model Three. I stepped closer to the body to get a better loo¡ª

    The Model Six burst forward, rising off the ground to ram me in the stomach. I tried to fire another round in my panic, but couldn¡¯t bring the gun to bear before I was thrown off my feet. The shot went wide as I was sent flipping over a mannequin stand, knocking them over like a set of bowling pins. During the jumble, my firearm somehow got caught under the strap of one of their swimsuits before I hit the ground. With not even a second to catch my breath, I struggled to yank it free before the Antithesis reached me.

    The splintering of the pedestal next to me was the only warning that my time was up. I raised my left arm in a futile gesture to ward the Model Six off, but that was quickly batted aside by a sharp claw. I didn¡¯t have time to think about the terrible pain in my arm as I looked up at the alien looming over me. Even with the combat stim focusing me, I could feel my breath start to come in shallow gasps as the terror set in.

    The Model Six seemed to be taking its time¡ªalmost like it was savoring my fear. It pinned me under one of its paws, and I could feel my ribs creak under it as I suddenly struggled to breathe. Before it could do anything more, I finally freed my gun and swiftly stuffed it into the unarmored, meaty area where the xeno¡¯s leg met its body. Blood splattered my hand as I fired, but the Model Six barely reacted. It didn¡¯t even reduce the pressure on my chest; it just continued to leer at me, looking absolutely demonic with a burning eye and its own blood dripping between its fangs. I pulled the trigger again, but all I heard was a muted click as the firing pin came down on an empty chamber. I was out of ammo.

    I stared into the Model Six¡¯s three remaining eyes as it gave a final, gurgling whistle. It was over, and we both knew it. It leaned down and and opened its maw¡ª

    A series of deafening pops rang out from behind me, and the Model Six reared back as it was struck by a barrage of bullets. The vast majority glanced off its armor, but a few of the shots wormed their way through the gaps and craters created by my duel with the alien. One of the bullets even scraped past its remaining front eye, popping it in the process. Still, I knew that it wouldn¡¯t be enough to put the xeno down.

    ¡°Gun.¡± I croaked, dropping my empty pistol and flexing my hand to let Lynata know what I wanted. Another Defiance Deputy appeared in my grasp, and I wasted no time in punishing the Model Six¡¯s distraction. The first three explosions punched a hole through the bottom of its head, spraying me with viscera and causing the alien to crumple next to me. However, I didn¡¯t let up¡ªI held the pistol close and methodically placed the rest of the magazine into its skull until it was little more than green mush.

    I wasn¡¯t going to let it get back up again.

    I asked Lynata for another magazine as I debated putting another few rounds into the alien¡¯s corpse, just to be sure, but thought better of it. Instead, I sighed and leaned back until I was lying on the floor. It was almost performative¡ªI was sore and wounded, but not tired; the combat stim kept me wide awake and coiled like a spring. However, it felt like I should be tired, so I stayed splayed on the ground, reveling in the simple sensation of still being alive.

    A slow, heavy, thumping noise came from behind me and steadily grew closer. I snapped up my gun, aiming it upside-down from my position on the floor, then relaxed as I saw who it was: my mysterious savior, who turned out to be Harry. He was hobbling along on one leg and a swaggy cane I recognized from one of the mannequin displays upstairs. The mall cop looked even redder in the face than the last time I¡¯d seen him; his new form of locomotion was clearly taking a toll.

    ¡°Hey, Harry. You know, we should really stop meeting like this.¡± I said, remembering the first time we¡¯d met. At least this time he was the one saving me, instead of the other way around. I guess that made us even, if either of us cared about that sort of thing.

    Harry didn¡¯t say anything in return. He dropped to his knee in front of me, then pulled me into an awkward hug. His breathing seemed to stutter, and it took me a second to realize that he was crying.

    ¡°Hey, uh, Harry?¡± I tried again, voice muffled by his shirt. ¡°I don¡¯t do too well with the whole, ¡®outward displays of emotion¡¯ thing, so could you tell me what¡¯s going on here?¡±

    His shaking sobs hitched as they transformed into a wet chuckle. ¡°Kid, would you just shut up for a second?¡±

    The whole situation was really uncomfortable, but I decided to do as he asked. I didn¡¯t really have much to say, anyway. However, after a few seconds, I realized that the wetness on my arm was from more than just Harry¡¯s sweat; when he released me, I held up my left hand just as the pain started to register.

    I was missing two fingers.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± I shouted, sitting up and grabbing at a nearby scarf to wrap around the stumps of my lost pinkie and ring fingers. Harry shouted his own not-curse, casting aside the article of clothing and pulling out his first-aid kit. As he wrapped my hand with his last roll of gauze, I could see that the side of my middle finger was also well-skinned, and the very tip was missing too. At least the digit was still attached.

    Strangely enough, it didn¡¯t hurt as much as I thought it would. The pain was excruciating, sure, but not as debilitating as it should¡¯ve been. It wasn¡¯t bleeding as much as it should¡¯ve been, either¡ªin fact, it¡¯d already started clotting before Harry even applied the QuikStaunch cream from his kit. Probably all part of the Vitaphrine in my system. Definitely a worthwhile purchase.

    Still, I was missing fingers. It took all of my willpower not to immediately vomit at the sight. Luckily for me, I now had a tried and true method for dealing with terrible injuries: ¡°Lynata, I need some nanos.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, a Nano-Regenerative Suite cannot repair trauma of this type.¡±

    ¡°¡­ What?¡±

    ¡°Correction: a Class One Nano-Regenerative Suite cannot repair trauma of this type. While higher Classes have the capability to regenerate limbs¡ªeven an entire body, with a Class Three Suite and enough relevant material¡ªyour currently available Nano-Regenerative Suite would do nothing more than close the wound. While Vanguard-grade medical treatment would be preferred, your current covering is sufficient for this task without an additional points cos¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about ¡®closing the wound¡¯! I have no fingers! Can¡¯t I just have one from a higher Class?¡±

    ¡°No. A Class Two Nano-Regenerative Suite would first require you to purchase the Class Two Medical Utilities catalog for three hundred points and one token, neither of which you are close to possessing. You do not wish to know how much a Class Three catalog costs.¡±

    ¡°A token? Wha¡ªno, you know what, nevermind. Is there anything else I can buy with the stuff I already have? There has to be something!¡±

    ¡°The Class One Medical Utilities catalog contains several hundred thousand items, most of them consumable or otherwise single-use items that provide a ¡°quick fix¡± to immediate medical emergencies. None of these are comprehensive enough to replace missing digits. In keeping with your earlier promise to Mister Markus, you could instead purchase one of several catalogs that can provide prosthetic replacements¡ªor, if you are certain that you wish for the digits to be restored, you could purchase the Medical Technologies catalog; it provides multiple medical devices that would be capable of regenerating them over a period of days.¡±

    ¡°Great, do that!¡±

    ¡°Apologies, I should have been more clear: you do not possess the points necessary to purchase any of those catalogs.¡±

    I muttered a few more choice swears as Harry finished wrapping my hand. The security guard, for his part, wasn¡¯t saying anything, just dutifully listening to our argument. Given how our last talk had ended in a shouting match, followed by my current predicament, he had all the right in the world to tell me ¡°I told you so¡± and continue to boss me around. Instead, he was quietly helping me while letting me work through my options. His attitude made me pause; I needed to stop throwing a hissy fit and start acting like an adult. Also, I needed to apologize to him later. ¡°Alright, how many points do I have?¡±

    ¡°Thirty four.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± I took a second to do the mental math, then quickly gave up after realizing that math was hard. A flick of my gaze dropped down the ¡°scorecard¡± that Lynata had added to my augs earlier, showing me the short list of all of my recent buys and kills. I paused when I got to the notification for the points I¡¯d gained from killing the Model Six.

    ¡°Fifteen points.¡± I breathed out. I flopped back down to the floor and closed my eyes, going through all seven stages of grief in under a second. Fifteen fucking points. Only half again as much as a basic Model Three. I¡¯d made a whole one point from killing it, after factoring in everything I¡¯d spent. And now I was down two fingers, along with gaining a few more assorted bruises. This was a net loss.

    I felt a pat on my head. Opening my eyes, I saw Harry pulling himself up on his new cane before offering a hand to me. He smiled. ¡°I know it may not seem like it, but you did good, Ben.¡± His smile changed to a frown as I refused to take his offered hand. ¡°I doubted you¡­ And for that, I¡¯m sorry. I mean, you just killed a Six with nothing but a pistol!¡± He shook his head as he laughed. ¡°You¡¯re a Samurai, alright; no one else would be crazy enough to do that. But you did, and you survived doing it. So come on, mister ¡®badass Samurai¡¯, we have a city to save.¡±

    I sniffled like a little kid. Harry had a point. I may not have gained many points from that Model Six, but I still managed to kill it in the end. As long as I could keep doing that¡ªand hopefully not lose any more body parts on the way¡ªwe had a chance to survive this nightmare. It was disheartening to learn that my current catalogs couldn¡¯t fix me every time I screwed up, but they¡¯d gotten me this far. I was learning, and every fight saw me getting more comfortable in my role as a Samurai. I was going to bruise, bleed, and burn a lot more before this was all over. A completely foreign concept just a day ago, but this fight had paradoxically strengthened my resolve: people were dying to the Antithesis, and here I was complaining about losing some fingers that I would eventually be able to replace anyways.

    I took Harry¡¯s hand with my own, uninjured one, allowing him to pull me up. I brushed some crusted blood off of my bare chest and looked through the glass doors at the entrance of the store. There were going to be a lot more fights like this one before the day was through, but now I was ready for them.

    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s go.¡±

 Chapter Nine - Talking About Our Feelings and Shit

    Chapter Nine - Talking About Our Feelings and Shit

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    ***

    ¡°Really, just like that?¡±

    I sighed. Harry was seriously ruining the vibe I was trying to create here. Next thing I knew, he would be asking perfectly sensible questions like ¡°what do we do now?¡± and ¡°couldn¡¯t you at least put on a shirt first?¡±

    I glared at him. ¡°Weren¡¯t you just talking about being sorry about doubting me and all that?¡±

    Harry nodded. ¡°Sure, I said that, but that doesn¡¯t mean that we should keep going off half-cocked.¡±

    I chuckled. ¡°Half-cocked.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what that expression means.¡±

    ¡°It will be whenever I use it from now on.¡± I stopped laughing and got serious. ¡°Fine, what¡¯s the plan?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Harry started, hobbling over to my dropped Defiance Deputy. ¡°First, we need to take inventory.¡± He groaned as he bent over and picked up the pistol, checking out the empty chamber. ¡°Do you have any more magazines for this? This¡¯ll be a right sight better than my duty carry.¡±

    I winced. I didn¡¯t want to leave Harry out to dry, but I was hesitant to spend any more of my incredibly small pool of points. ¡°I could buy a few, but that¡¯d be it.¡± I patted my pockets until I found the security guard¡¯s original pistol, then presented it to him. ¡°You might be better off with this. You¡¯ll have a lot more ammo for it upstairs.¡±

    Harry shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not going back upstairs.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°Uhh¡­ What? Harry, I really appreciate the save, believe me, but you¡¯re still missing a leg. That¡¯s not¡­ Really conducive to fighting Antithesis, y¡¯know?¡±

    The mall cop made a show of considering it, then nodded. ¡°Correct. But I¡¯m still going with you. It¡¯s important to always have a buddy to cover you.¡±

    ¡°What about the cameras?¡±

    Harry nodded, then tapped the side of his head. ¡°That¡¯s why I stayed upstairs, at first. Then I realized that you have that AI¡ªmade my job superfluous. She can handle that a lot better than I can.¡±

    ¡°Then what about¡­¡± I was drawing a blank on coming up with more reasons that Harry couldn¡¯t come with me. I was starting to like the guy, and I didn¡¯t want him being put in harm¡¯s way any more than I could help. He¡¯d already struggled with all the running around before he was sans one leg, and now he wanted to tromp all over the mall full of Antithesis.

    Was I the asshole here? He did just save me from pretty certain death, and he was former military¡ªhe was a lot more experienced with this kind of thing than I was. Without his advice and commands, I wouldn¡¯t have lasted half as long. Still, it felt like a bad idea. If I had a spine, I would demand that he go back upstairs while I handled it.

    ¡°Fine, you can come.¡± I turned away from him and grabbed a scarf from a nearby rack, using it to wipe the blood off my bare torso. ¡°But we really need to find your leg as soon as possible. I know I promised you a new one, but it¡¯s going to be awhile before I can afford something like that.¡±

    Harry chuckled. ¡°Deal. But when you can afford it, I still want a grenade launcher in it. I don¡¯t care how impractical that would be.¡± Then, as his chuckle faded out, he sighed. ¡°Now, one more thing before we go: we should really talk about what happened back there¡ªbefore you fought that Six, I mean.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Harry pushed himself up to sit on top of the automated checkout counter. ¡°You blew up on me. I get that I was treating you with kid gloves, and I¡¯m sorry, but we should really talk about it.¡±

    I didn¡¯t like where this conversation was headed. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to talk about. I was just stressed.¡±

    Harry held up a hand in response. ¡°Then tell me about it. It¡¯s healthy to talk through your problems, and I want to make sure we at least address this before it comes up again in another life-threatening situation.¡±

    ¡°Look, call it a¡­¡± I struggled to find the right thing to say. ¡°Personal failing. I hate it when people treat me like a child.¡±

    Harry nodded slowly. ¡°Okay, I get that, but this seems a bit more deep-seated than a little pet peeve. Most people just get angry when someone gets on their nerves¡ªsuicidally charging at the nearest Antithesis is taking it a bit far. So what¡¯s the problem?¡±

    I shot an annoyed expression at the security guard. ¡°There¡¯s no problem. I was annoyed, I yelled at you, and now I apologized. Let¡¯s leave it at that.¡±

    Harry snorted. ¡°That¡¯s bull.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I said that¡¯s bull.¡± Harry shook his head. ¡°I shared a deep, personal moment with you in the security shed, but you won¡¯t even tell me what¡¯s bothering you?¡± He shrugged. ¡°You don¡¯t want to give me your life¡¯s story? Okay, fine, whatever, I get it. But I need to know if this is going to be an issue in the future. I can¡¯t have you flying off the handle because I said the wrong thing without realizing it.¡± There was kindness in his eyes, but his stare was serious. ¡°Is this going to happen again?¡±

    I grit my teeth. ¡°No.¡± I started to turn away, done with this conversation, but then I replayed it in my head. ¡°Fine, you want to know my life story?¡±

    ¡°I specifically stated that I didn¡¯t need your whole lif¡ª¡±

    I slammed my fist into the scarf rack, knocking it over. ¡°Well too bad, here it is!¡± I paused and took a breath. Harry was doing it again, and I was getting overly angry because of it. He was right¡ªit was going to keep happening if he didn¡¯t know about it.

    ¡°I¡­¡± I hesitated one last time. I didn¡¯t like sharing about myself with other people, and it wasn¡¯t like I ever saw a therapist about it; they would¡¯ve just sold everything I said to a data farm, or forced me into a payment plan for whatever drug they were peddling. But I couldn¡¯t put this off. Maybe it was time to finally get this off my chest. ¡°When I was a little kid, my father always treated me like a little adult; told me everything exactly how it was, never pulled any punches, and expected me to make all the right decisions for myself. That changed as I started to grow older.

    ¡°The last time I did anything ¡®childish¡¯ was watching a cartoon when I was twelve. He saw what I was watching and told me to ¡®grow up.¡¯ So I did.¡± I shrugged. ¡°But I didn¡¯t grow up the way he wanted me to. I never joined JROTC, the closest I got to sports was a month of track in high school, and don¡¯t even get me started about college.¡± I sighed. ¡°The final straw was when he came to me about joining up with some private military corporation that a buddy of his ran. Guess he wanted me to do something important with my life, but I told him to fuck off. Told him I didn¡¯t want anything to do with the military, no matter how much he wanted me to.¡±

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    I¡¯d gone full thousand-yard-stare mode, dredging up core memories that I¡¯d completely buried a little over four years ago. ¡°He¡¯s treated me like a child ever since. I mean¡ªhe¡¯s always questioned every decision I¡¯ve ever made since I was thirteen, and made me feel stupid for every little mistake I made growing up, but this was different. He started talking to me like I was a literal child; like I was too slow or stupid to understand anything around me. Every moment had to have some color commentary about how I ¡®failed to grow up¡¯, or how I ¡®didn¡¯t live up to my potential.¡¯¡± I gestured to the store around me, indicating the Shopplex. ¡°I had to sign a downright abusive contract with this place just to get away from him.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have anyone else?¡± Harry asked, as I continued to avoid his gaze. ¡°What about your mom?¡±

    I scoffed. ¡°Died in a car crash when I was five. Some rich idiot thought he could override the autopilot on his fancy new sports hovercar and crashed right on top of hers. I had an aunt, too, but,¡± I shrugged a second time, ¡°she was in the same car. It was just me and my dad ever since. I do have a grandfather, I guess, but his dementia¡¯s so bad that I¡¯m lucky if he even remembers me on a good day.¡±

    I finally looked at Harry, meeting his eyes with a challenge. ¡°So there you go, that¡¯s my story. I wasn¡¯t beaten black and blue as a child, I wasn¡¯t tragically raised on the streets by some adoptive gang of murderers with hearts of gold¡ªI just had a father who talked down to me, and that makes me suicidally charge towards Antithesis whenever somebody else does it, too. Happy now?¡±

    The mall cop¡¯s gaze was pensive. He wasn¡¯t showing it, but I could still tell: he was judging me, thinking about all the stupid things I¡¯ve done since we met and recontextualizing it. He was coming up with ways to tell me how dumb I was being. Why did I decide to share that with him? I could¡¯ve just kept quiet. Now he knew how how childish I was being, how worthless¡ª

    ¡°Yup, that makes sense. Sorry.¡±

    I stopped. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d gone through something like that. I¡¯ll try not to act like you¡¯re a kid anymore.¡±

    ¡°W-What?!¡± I sputtered. ¡°Seriously? But it¡¯s just so¡­ stupid!¡± I pointed to his missing leg. ¡°Compared to the shit you¡¯ve gone through, what do I have to talk about? I mean¡ªpeople are out there getting eaten by Antithesis, and here I am complaining about how my dad didn¡¯t give me enough affirmation as a chi¡ª¡±

    ¡°Benjamin.¡± Harry scowled, stretching out to hook my shoulder with the end of his cane as I tried to turn away. ¡°We all go through life in our own way. We all have our own demons. I saw some sh¡­ stuff in the Guard, sure, and I¡¯ve been dealing with other problems since, sure, but none of that means that your problems don¡¯t matter.¡±

    He awkwardly patted my shoulder with the cane. ¡°You were just a kid.¡± When I bristled from the statement, he raised his hand defensively. ¡°You were! Those are the formative years of your life; having a trusted family member¡ªsomeone you look up to more than anyone else in the world¡ªmake fun of you for everything you did, for years at a time¡­ Yeah, that¡¯d screw anyone up. I¡­¡± He paused and muttered something under his breath. ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯m the best at this kind of stuff, either, but I want you to know: that¡¯s valid, Ben. Don¡¯t beat yourself up for thinking that your feelings don¡¯t matter, just because you think someone else has it worse.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± I didn¡¯t know what to say. I was expecting ridicule¡ªalmost hoping for it, in some weird way¡ªbut Harry sounded genuinely supportive. Worse still, what he said even made a certain degree of sense. It sounded wrong, and went against everything I¡¯d ever thought, but then: who¡¯d taught me to think that way? For all that I¡¯d rebelled against my father, and thought myself successful for getting away from him, my upbringing did affect me. Hell, the same stubbornness I¡¯d developed against him had just seen me throw myself at a Model Six; I was too bull-headed to admit how obviously idiotic that was, even if I would¡¯ve never done something that dangerous before today. I still didn¡¯t think it was quite the same as some of the other things I¡¯ve seen¡ªI wasn¡¯t going to compare my issues to those of the homeless Antithesis survivors I saw on the Mesh, or that group of disabled orphans I once passed at a museum, but to just admit that I did have trauma¡­ Yeah, maybe I could do that.

    ¡°Ben.¡± Harry brought me out of my reflection. ¡°Don¡¯t ever think you¡¯re lesser than someone else. You think like that long enough, it¡¯ll eat you up inside.¡± He had that pensive expression on his face again. ¡°Have you ever talked to anyone about this?¡±

    I waved a hand in dismissal. ¡°Nah. Telling my dad to stop just made him mock me more. Didn¡¯t have the money for a therapist¡ªnor was I stupid enough to talk to one¡ªand as for my friends¡­ I suppose the closest I got was right before my breakup with Hannah, my last girlfriend. You¡¯re it.¡±

    Harry offered a sigh in response. ¡°Yeah, that would be part of the problem. You need to be more open about your feelings¡ªtell others when you¡¯re having a problem, you know?¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but smirk. ¡°Okay, that was just corny. You do a stint as a therapist or something? Have any more generic advice to offer me? Maybe I should count to ten when something annoys me?¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± Harry pointed at me, ¡°don¡¯t knock it till you try it. For example:¡± He stopped and held up a finger. It took me a few seconds to figure out that he was counting in his head, at which point he gestured and gave a sarcastic smile. ¡°See, now I no longer feel like hitting you with my cane.¡±

    I snorted, then took a big step back and opened up my arms in mock-challenge. ¡°¡®Hitting me with your cane¡¯? Alright, old man, I¡¯d like to see you reach me from there.¡±

    Harry merely shook the aforementioned implement and affected an elderly voice. ¡°You just wait, young whippersnapper! At least my generation had good mental healthcare!¡±

    We shared a good laugh, and I felt all of my recent stress from our conversation melt away in the camaraderie. It felt freeing, in a way, to get that off my chest, and I hadn¡¯t expected Harry to still want to hang around after that. Now, I wasn¡¯t suddenly going to get all touchy-feely with my emotions like he wanted me to, but to just be open about what I was thinking for once in life¡­ It was nice. In the spirit of this ¡°communication¡± crap that Harry was talking about, I was just about to mention this to him when he suddenly tensed and pushed off from the counter he¡¯d been sitting on. I followed his gaze just in time to see a pair of large wireframe silhouettes patrol past the front door of the Macy¡¯s. Ah, right, the incursion.

    ¡°Time¡¯s up,¡± the security guard whispered, crawling towards me with his cane cradled in the crook of his arms. ¡°I¡¯ll be needing one of those magazines now.¡±

    ¡°Lynata?¡± I whispered in response as I crouched behind a smashed jewelry display. A plastic box unceremoniously appeared by my feet, easily in reach of Harry¡¯s new position beside me. He carefully popped open the box and quietly loaded his new pistol, keeping an eye on the patrolling Model Fours all the while. Thinking about it, I ordered two more magazines for Harry, which Lynata put in their own double-wide box.

    Once he finished stuffing the thick magazines in his pocket, Harry dragged himself up with a soft groan. ¡°Never join the military, Ben; all they¡¯ll give you is a lifetime of knee pain afterwards.¡±

    ¡°At least you only have the one knee to feel it.¡± I faintly shot back, bringing my own weapon up to make sure it was ready for action.

    ¡°Ooh, he¡¯s got jokes.¡± Harry braced himself on the cane as he joined me in peeking through the glass of the case. He spared a glance at me, adding, ¡°Tell you what: we¡¯ll talk more about this after we clear out the mall. I want to be out of here before nightfall. If we¡¯re still here by then, and you haven¡¯t gotten enough points, we¡¯re dead.¡±

    I nodded. We could wait for the Mesh network to come back and call for help, but that might take too long. The shelters here weren¡¯t rated for lasting longer than a single day of an incursion¡ªdouble-digit Models would start popping up then, and anything that size would tear them apart like tissue paper. We were also too close to the epicenter to just grab a hovercar and go; we¡¯d be grabbed by some flying Model and ripped to shreds. Our only option was to clear the place and then pray that I¡¯d gained enough points to either fortify it or fight our way through. Neither of which I could do if I sat around talking to Harry. ¡°Lynata, do we have any more cameras yet?¡±

    ¡°I am sorry to report that most of the Goddard Shopplex¡¯s cameras are still inoperable. With investment into a cyberwarfare catalog, you could purchase splicing equipment that would allow physical access to these camera feeds, but remote connection is currently impossible.¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± I breathed out as the pair of Model Fours disappeared from view. I turned to Harry. ¡°Any plans, then?¡±

    The former soldier just shook his head. ¡°If I had a rifle platoon, I could give you a list of possible deployments and a short course on mobile defense-in-depth. As-is, we¡¯re just going to have to hope we can ambush small groups and prevent them from swarming us.¡±

    ¡°What happened to not going off half-cocked?¡±

    Harry nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right¡ªput on a shirt; we¡¯ll figure out the rest later.¡±

    I grumbled as I stomped back to the Men¡¯s Wear section, retying my man bun while I was at it. Harry and I could come up with a better plan later. Hopefully.

 Chapter Ten - Coming Up With a Better Plan

    Chapter Ten - Coming Up With a Better Plan

    ¡°Who needs a plan? Just charge in and kill everything! That¡¯s what I always do. Alright, chumps, let¡¯s do this!¡±

    ¡ªLast words of Samurai Stephen ¡°Leeroy Jenkins¡± Henkle, shortly before the destruction of the Chicago Rookery Arcology, 2031.

    ***

    The Goddard Shopplex was a massive, perpetually understaffed monument to Capitalism in the Corporate Era. It serviced millions of people across the state every day through distribution centers, direct-to-home drone deliveries, and more. As such, it could never exactly be described as ¡°clean¡±, with its dozens of janitors having to constantly maintain a fighting retreat against the grime of a hundred thousand daily shoppers¡ªall under the vain hope that the mall might shut down for a day and allow them to catch up. An Antithesis incursion was their worst nightmare.

    I let out another near-silent groan as I stepped through the third food container in an hour, my new shoes once again getting coated in unidentifiable sludge. I¡¯d thought I was being clever by grabbing one of the fancy, expensive pairs, but the faux-leather wasn¡¯t even good enough to block spilled pop from soaking into the synth-wool socks I¡¯d pulled off a broken mannequin.

    At least they protected against broken glass. And there was a lot of that; windows across the Shopplex had been blown out of their frames by a recent ripple of explosions nearby, spreading shattered sheets of plastic-infused silica across the floor. The intermittent thunder of explosives, mixed with constant cracks of gunfire, was clearly audible through the holes left by the glass¡¯s destruction, and had steadily grown closer since Harry and I¡¯d left Macy¡¯s¡ªsomething I hoped heralded the arrival of the National Guard. Still, despite the cacophony coming from outside, we were trying to avoid making too much noise¡­ Something I¡¯d quickly realized I was quite bad at, given that I spent too much time watching out for more Antithesis instead of watching where I was stepping. Harry, meanwhile, was practically gliding around the various bits of debris on the floor, making up for the heaviness of his steps by creating almost no other noise besides.

    Something that wouldn¡¯t have been possible if we hadn¡¯t found his prosthetic leg right outside the department store¡¯s front door¡ªI wasn¡¯t sure how well he¡¯d be doing at stealth if he was still hopping around with a cane. His fake leg had been chewed to hell, but it seemed like the Antithesis finally got a clue that it wasn¡¯t organic and spit it out. He¡¯d made us stop for a few minutes just so he could wipe all of the xeno drool off the limb, something which I¡¯d profusely protested at first. However, as he spit-shined the exposed metal joints with a raggedy handkerchief he¡¯d produced from one of his uniform¡¯s many pockets, our brief pause had turned out to be the right move. Several packs of Threes, Fours, and other Models unknown to me all suddenly dashed about on the floors below us, chasing after some unknown target. If Harry hadn¡¯t made us stop, we would¡¯ve been right in the middle of them. There was no way I¡¯d survive that. Not yet.

    While peeking over the railing, I¡¯d also seen an additional Model Six on the bottom floor, escorting some giant, worm-like Antithesis into the middle of the central atrium. The mall had active noise suppression systems¡ªa measure designed to prevent richer patrons on the upper floors from hearing the general din of the floors below them¡ªevery few storeys, so I couldn¡¯t hear its whistling. However, the bear-sized Antithesis was obviously commanding the other aliens around it, as they all formed an orderly line in front of the large worm. I¡¯d watched in disgusted fascination as the Antithesis horked up their food one by one, while the worm unleashed lashing tentacles from its lamprey-like mouth to drag the half-digested meals into itself. I¡¯d then been informed by Lynata that I was looking at a Model Eight, which was a ¡°mostly harmless biomass transferal unit¡±. It was also, apparently, considerably more durable than I could handle.

    The massive amount of Nope in the central mall was why we were now sneaking down this hallway, following an old map of the Shopplex that Lynata had found in a local storage server. The blueprint was more complete than the kiosk maps, showing maintenance stairways that would hopefully allow us to get up the next few floors without issue. Unfortunately, it also appeared to be out of date, as we¡¯d already come across one wall that wasn¡¯t on it¡ªapparently the conference center we¡¯d been passing through had once been a movie theater. My quip about how happy I was that we were rid of that ancient relic had not been met kindly by Harry, who¡¯d instead complained about my generation not having ¡°any entertainment good enough to need a movie theater.¡±

    Still, we¡¯d made our way around the wall (going through an old, broken fire exit in one of the conference rooms) and were now only a single floor below our destination. Harry, like the ancient caveman he was, had pulled out an old smartphone several times along the way to receive updates from Frank; the older security guard had calmed down considerably since he¡¯d first called us, after it¡¯d become obvious that the smaller Antithesis wouldn¡¯t be able to break into his room. At that point, I¡¯d debated with Harry whether we should still go ¡°save¡± him at all, when the matter was suddenly decided for me.

    I jumped as a low buzz filled the hallway. My eyes searched wildly for the source of sound, sure that we were about to be attacked by some new alien horror, before realizing that the noise was coming from Harry¡¯s pocket. The mall cop winced as he pulled his vibrating smartphone from his cargo pants, mouthing a short ¡°sorry¡± as he silenced the phone and put it to his ear. An ugly, vindictive part of me was briefly glad that this time I¡¯d get to lecture him on being more careful, before the rest of me realized that part was being a dumbass. I¡¯d made some very serious mistakes over the last few hours that I needed to focus on fixing first. I was learning, slowly, while Harry had done all of this (or at least something a lot like this) before. His smartphone buzzing wasn¡¯t any more noisy than the crunch of glass under my feet; as long as this mistake wasn¡¯t the one that brought a bunch of Antithesis down on top of us, we could use this as another learning experience. Now, if only I could convince my rapidly beating heart to calm down too¡­

    Lost in my introspection as I was, I hadn¡¯t been listening to Harry¡¯s conversation, so it took me a few seconds to register his words. ¡°¡ªwhere¡¯d they go? What do you mean, ¡®you don¡¯t know¡¯?¡±

    I waved to Harry to get his attention and mouthed, ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±, but he dismissed my question with a wave of his own. Instead, Lynata answered me.

    Mister Markus has just been informed that your place of employment has become bereft of Antithesis.

    ¡°What?¡± I whispered.

    The Antithesis have all left your store.

    ¡°What?¡± I repeated. ¡°Where?¡±

    That appears to be the matter of contention between Mister Markus and your friend, Frank. Antithesis rarely disengage when they have confirmed the presence of live prey¡ªeven when they seem incapable of reaching it, the Antithesis will wait to receive the assistance of more specialized Models. It can thus be inferred that something drew them off; in all likelihood, a command from another Model. This was the case for yourself, as you would remember.

    It took me a second to think through that. ¡°That¡¯s bad, right?¡±

    Almost certainly. The Antithesis are rarely complacent. If they are no longer attacking Frank, then they have found a better target.

    ¡°¡®Better¡¯, meaning ¡®more people to kill¡¯.¡±

    That was the implication of my statement, yes.

    I sighed. ¡°Fantastic.¡± Harry¡¯s argument with Frank continued in the background, giving me a few more seconds to think on the subject. ¡°So, you¡¯re an AI¡ª¡±

    Last time I checked.

    This time, it was a sigh of frustration. ¡°Right, so, you¡¯ve got to be good at the whole math and guessing thing. Do you have any ideas where they could¡¯ve gone?¡±

    While you are correct that I am quite proficient at ¡®the math and guessing thing¡¯, I do not currently possess enough information to provide you with an accurate estimation of their destination. However, I am capable of providing you with a list of the most likely scenarios, if you wish.

    I waited for Lynata to say more, then realized that she was waiting for me to ask. ¡°Look, you know I¡¯m going to say yes, so why don¡¯t you just tell me?¡±

    Apologies, my position requires that I follow my Vanguard¡¯s lead before giving out estimates with insufficient data; the Protectors have noted the delightful human behavior of ¡®going with your gut¡¯ more often than listening to established data patterns. However, your request has been noted, and I will endeavor to be more informative moving forward! To that end: the most likely scenario is that a specialty Model has arrived on site, and the lower Models have been retasked with either assisting or guarding it. The second most likely scenario is that they have been retasked with defending the Shopplex.

    I quirked my brow at nothing in particular. ¡°Defending it?¡±

    You may have noticed the increasing intensity of combat outside. If the hive considers the Shopplex to be a site of strategic importance, and the number of units outside is insufficient for defending it, then the hive will prioritize its defense over harvesting of biomass. This is assuming, of course, that the hive deems that the amount of biomass lost in the defense will be less than the amount to be harvested from this location.

    I looked out the nearest window frame. Several buildings and streets farther away were on fire, creating a constant haze of smoke that rivaled the smog of one of the megacities, and prevented me from seeing much of what was going on in the rest of the city. I also couldn¡¯t see the streets around the Shopplex from this angle, so I couldn¡¯t confirm Lynata¡¯s theory. However, I could still see the sun, peeking out from between two of Billing¡¯s taller skyscrapers, indicating that night was only a scant few hours away. I wasn¡¯t afraid of the dark, and the Shopplex¡¯s lights never turned off anyways, but it was a generally accepted fact that Bad Things happened during nighttime in an incursion. If the xenos were trying to reinforce the area, and the National Guard couldn¡¯t break through before sundown, then we were well and truly fucked. ¡°Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s not that last one.¡±

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Either of these scenarios would be very troubling. In the first case, a specialized Model would be far more immediately deadly to you.

    I chewed on that thought for a second as Harry¡¯s conversation devolved into a furious, whispered argument behind me. ¡°What about that worm-thing back there? Could they be guarding that?¡±

    While Model Eights are an important part of the Antithesis hive cycle, they operate almost exclusively in areas cleared of resistance. They do not require ¡°guards¡±, as such, beyond the few lower Models necessary to feed them. It is far more probable that the Antithesis would be guarding one of the higher biowarfare or command Models, which are specialized to a degree that they are comparatively defenseless. A Model Twenty-Two, for instance.

    Lynata pulled up a helpful little window in my aug-gear, highlighting a fat, ugly creature covered in bulbous sacs. She then added a model human for scale. It was larger than a hovertruck. ¡°That thing is defenseless?¡± I asked incredulously.

    Compared to other Models of its caliber, yes. It is a mobile hive, dedicated almost exclusively to feeding and growing more Antithesis. Not to worry, however; most hives focus on creating smaller Models for a span of time roughly analogous to your planet¡¯s days. If this hive follows the usual model, then it will be approximately two days before it is required to produce a Model above Twenty. It is improbable that you would encounter one.

    I groaned. ¡°Oh great, now you¡¯ve jinxed it.¡±

    Oh! The amusing human concept of willing negative thoughts into existence. The conception of an idea from rendering it aloud is a key concept in the religions of multiple species, although it is interesting that humans only ever consider it in the negative.

    ¡°Exactly! So stop it!¡±

    Despite exhaustive research, the Protectors have found no evidence that this concept bears true in reality. One event is as statistically likely as another, and any observation of ¡®jinxing it¡¯ stems from ¡®it¡¯ either being the most likely event in the first place, or merely observational bias due to specifically anticipating said event.

    I just nodded along. ¡°I¡¯m gonna pretend I understood that.¡±

    Would you prefer a chart? Perhaps with fun little pictures you can color in yourself?

    ¡°Fuck off,¡± I huffed with a roll of my eyes. ¡°Please, just don¡¯t jinx us.¡±

    In respect to my Vanguard, I will modify my speech to refrain from ¡®jinxing us¡¯ again. Now, it appears that Mister Markus has concluded his conversation.

    I furrowed my brow in confusion, then flinched as a hand touched my shoulder. Harry had finished his call while I was distracted, and was now trying to get my attention.

    ¡°Hey,¡± he started, ¡°it looks like the Antithesis spooked off, so we don¡¯t have to worry about Frank anymore.¡±

    I nodded in response. ¡°Yeah, I heard. Lynata was just giving me the rundown on where she thinks they went.¡±

    Harry tilted his head in curiosity. ¡°What did she have to say about it?¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Either something a lot scarier is about to show up, or they¡¯re worried that the military is about to show up.¡±

    ¡°Those are merely the two scenarios with the highest probabilities of being accurate¡ªthere are seven other potentialities of statistical likelihood, albeit far lower in possibility than the two which Benjamin has so eloquently outlined.¡±

    Harry merely nodded along when Lynata chimed in, while I was too busy trying to figure out if my AI was sassing me. ¡°That sounds about right. Either way, one of our problems is solved, so we don¡¯t have to keep sneaking around here now.¡±

    I paused, looking around the liminal space we¡¯d found ourselves in, and realized that I couldn¡¯t really think of what to do next. ¡°So¡­ what now?¡±

    Harry shrugged in response. ¡°It¡¯s up to you, really. You¡¯re the one who needs to get more points. I was hoping to link up with Frank to get more people together, see if we could work up a numbers advantage, but after our conversation¡­ I don¡¯t think he¡¯d be willing to help.¡±

    I bit my lip in contemplation. Despite the situation, I hadn¡¯t really given my options much thought¡ªI was so far out of my element that I¡¯d just been content to let Harry come up with the plan so far, with me following his lead. He clearly knew what he was doing, whereas my combat experience existed solely in the realm of Mesh-shooters¡­ Some of which were actually fairly accurate, now that I thought about it. But in just about all of them, I was already a super-powerful Samurai who was always told exactly what to do and where to go (and even got waypoints to my objective, if I was willing to watch an ad before the match).

    Well, if I had to think for myself, then I was going to put my best foot forward: shamelessly steal Harry¡¯s idea, because it actually sounded really good, and I couldn¡¯t come up with anything better in the five seconds I thought about it. ¡°What about the other security guards? You guys all have to do yearly mass shooter training, right? So all of the rest of them should be good with a gun, too.¡±

    Harry shook his head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be too much stock in our ¡®training¡¯¡ªmost of my colleagues can¡¯t hit the broadside of a barn. But maybe I¡¯m just biased.¡± He gave a sardonic chuckle. ¡°The only one I know can shoot is Margaret, and that¡¯s only because I made the mistake of asking her what the red stain by the front door of her shop was.¡±

    I stopped for a second to give him my best look of incredible concern. ¡°Uh¡­ Do I wanna know?¡±

    ¡°A customer tried to swipe a few of their magazines, and she keeps a shotgun loaded with birdshot under the counter,¡± Harry elaborated.

    Right, I¡¯d almost forgotten she was on the first floor. They operated on a slightly different set of rules down there. ¡°Alright, well she¡¯s probably out¡ªuntil I get the points for a rocket launcher or something, I don¡¯t want to go to ground zero with half of the Antithesis in the mall down there, and I definitely don¡¯t want to fight another Model Six without one. What about the big guy, uh¡­ Jos¨¦, I think it was? With augs like his, he wouldn¡¯t even need a gun.¡±

    Harry pursed his lips. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. From what he tells me, he used to be part of a gang that did that kind of thing, but then he took a bit of a tumble off a motorcycle and hit his head something fierce, and now he doesn¡¯t have a violent bone in his body.¡± He made a gesture of uncertainty with his hands. ¡°I¡¯m not sure exactly what happened to him, but now he¡¯ll cry if you so much as mention physical violence. I think they just keep him around to look tough¡ªnot like they have a lot of crime up in the cloud district, anyways.¡±

    I sighed. What Harry had said probably applied to most of the security in the ¡°cloud district¡±, which accounted for the top few levels of the mall. Only the richest shoppers went there, and any crime they committed was skated over as ¡°the cost of doing business¡±. Unfortunately, the cloud district was also probably the only area of the mall still unmolested by the Antithesis, which meant our best chance of finding someone to help. ¡°Is there anyone you think would be able to help us?¡±

    Instead of answering immediately, Harry stared off into space, clearly lost in thought. He drummed his fingers against his prosthetic leg, which gave off a soft, plasticky thump with each impact. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard from many more people¡ªalmost everyone was either off-duty or probably got into a shelter with everybody else. I guess there¡¯s Manny, but¡­¡± Harry stopped, then pulled out his smartphone. ¡°Actually, Manny might be perfect. He¡¯s on the same floor as Frank, and if the Antis have left him alone, we can probably get to Manny.¡±

    As Harry typed away on his phone, I raised my hand like I was a child in a classroom (one of those old-timey ones, before androids took over most of the teaching roles and students had to start queuing questions on their augs instead). ¡°Uh, who¡¯s Manny?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a lot like me, actually,¡± replied Harry, ¡°although a bit more¡­ rough around the edges. But he used to be a marine back in the days of the U.S., and that¡¯s just the right combination of dangerous and crazy that we¡¯re looking for.¡±

    I considered it for a moment. ¡°Well, that sounds good, but is he actually able to help? Have you heard from him?¡±

    Harry chuckled as he crept a little closer and gave me his smartphone. ¡°Oh yeah, he¡¯s willing to help.¡±

    The ancient device showed a picture of a rather grizzled man somewhere in his sixties, with short-cropped hair and a faded scar down his entire face. Based on the miscellaneous bits of destroyed mall in the background, the selfie had been taken quite recently. ¡®Manny¡¯ was giving a thumbs-up to the camera, along with an absolutely manic grin, as he centered the shot on what looked like a booby-trapped pretzel on the ground over his shoulder.

    ¡°Where the hell did he get a grenade?¡± Was the only question I could think to ask.

    ¡°I¡¯ve found that it¡¯s best not to ask where Manny¡¯s involved,¡± Harry sighed in response. After taking his phone back, he waved me forward, and we continued our slow trek to the nearest maintenance stairway. ¡°The more important question you should be asking is, ¡®does he have any more?¡¯ If he does, you might try convincing him to give you a few. Would really help with making points.¡±

    I nodded in vague agreement as Harry opened the stairway door and took a few seconds to clear the stairwell beyond. Anything like that would be a huge improvement on what I had at the moment¡ªthe hand cannon I was using now was certainly better than the crappy pistol Harry¡¯s job had supplied him with, but I wanted a real weapon. Something like I got in the Mesh-shooters, which could clear a whole room of aliens in a second.

    Actually, my handgun catalog probably had a few things at least a little like that. Maybe something with smart tracking, or some other weird technology that normal people wouldn¡¯t have access to. Samurai weapons could get weird real quick, but I just needed something that I wouldn¡¯t need to bother carefully aiming while being charged by a bunch of Model Threes.

    The Kinetic Handguns catalog provides a wide variety of options for killing large numbers of lower Models in quick succession, although you will need significantly more points before you gain the capability to acquire many of them. However, several options are still available with your limited number of points.

    As if reading my mind, Lynata chimed in and opened a new tab in my eye-gear. There was an audible whirring in my skull as the eye-gear¡¯s fans kicked in from the sudden load, and several dozen guns flitted past my vision before the tab minimized. While a few of the options looked really fun, I didn¡¯t have time to view any of them before we reached the top of the staircase. Harry glanced at me, making sure I was ready before he reached for the door handle. There was no window on this door, so I made sure to move around from behind him and take aim in case there were any Antithesis on the other side.

    Harry grunted as he tried to push open the door, which seemed to be rusted shut. He tried to be quiet at first, then gave it a heavy kick with his prosthetic leg. With a final push, the door gave way, and he quickly shuffled out of the way to give me room to enter first.

    On the other side of the door was a scene that I could only describe as a rave from Hell.

 Chapter Eleven - The Rave From Hell

    Chapter Eleven - The Rave From Hell

    ¡°Epigraphs? Who the hell reads epigraphs? What the hell is an epigraph?¡±

    ¡ªAart Verhoeven, Assistant Dean of Coca-Cola? College of Fine Arts, 2033

    ***

    I was blinded by strobing lights and neon flashes. the deep wub wub of electronic bass vibrated my bones. My augs were quickly pinged by a dozen different ads, offering either music subscriptions or more elicit services.

    I recognized the place. Electric Embers was the nightclub in Billings, and only a rare few got to visit it in person. I¡¯d only been in person once, when I was dating the bartender¡­ who¡¯d promptly dumped me when she found out I couldn¡¯t afford the outrageous price they charged for drinks.

    Even now, the club was busy. Holographic men and women in overly tight (or entirely nonexistent) clothing gyrated across the floor, brought to life by projectors surreptitiously placed around the room. Most of them were bots, based on the look¡ªeither emblazoned with brands from companies that¡¯d paid the nightclub to advertise, or overly beautiful in that artificial way that suggested they were there to trick the patrons into buying more drinks.

    However, there were also some weirder avatars in the mix: some like anime girls, others in the form of anthropomorphic animals, and still more in stranger, more esoteric shapes. These would be the actual patrons, logged into the club via the Mesh. Didn¡¯t they know that there was an incursion going on?

    At least they were having fun distracting the Antithesis. An entire pack of Model Threes and Fours were jumping around the nightclub, flailing teeth and tentacles at holographic people in the dark. The ¡°real¡± dancers were making a game of it, taunting the aliens to ram into furniture and waving virtual capes like they were in some ancient bullfighting show.

    None of them had seen me yet. I turned around and quickly pulled Harry into the club, hoping that the throbbing music would mask his yelp as I moved us behind the nearest booth. I silently shushed him with a finger to my lips, pointing in the direction of the xenos.

    While Harry peeked over the booth, I looked back at our entrance. The door we¡¯d come through had obviously been boarded up at some point with soundproof paneling, which had all fallen off when Harry had kicked it open. We were lucky that the Antithesis hadn¡¯t heard it over the rest of the noise, but it wouldn¡¯t be long before the light-filled doorway attracted their attention. We couldn¡¯t just leave them be, either, since the exit was behind them. We had to deal with them.

    I had to deal with them.

    Unfortunately, my current weapon probably wasn¡¯t the best choice; even with Harry, there were simply too many aliens to deal with. I needed something better. With a flick of my eyes, the guns Lynata had shown me earlier filled my vision. There were too many choices, but I didn¡¯t need a perfect gun¡ªjust something good enough to deal with the current situation. I only had to scroll past a few options before one caught my eye.

    The Mark V Chatter. An excellent choice. Its six-millimeter ammunition can be fired very rapidly with little recoil, aided by the aggressive porting of the barrel and precisely calibrated springs. The fifty-round drum magazine allows for the rapid disabling of multiple small Models, although you will find it insufficient for larger foes.

    ¡°Does it come with explosive ammo, too?¡± I asked, my whisper lost in the noise around me.

    It can, although it would not be especially more lethal.

    ¡°Add it anyway. Please.¡±

    With pleasure!

    The box appeared between me and Harry, causing the security guard to jump. I wordlessly opened it, trying to prevent my hands from shaking as I looked the gun over. It was bulkier and heavier than the last two, with some little glowing stripes up and down the side to match my surroundings. Overall, it was pretty similar to the other guns, but this one felt different for some reason. Powerful. It was the first gun I¡¯d gotten that made me really feel like a Samurai.

    I wanted to keep checking out the gun, wanted to keep putting it off longer, but I couldn¡¯t. Not if we still wanted to have the drop on the Antithesis. With a sigh, I grabbed the foregrip at the front of my new machine pistol and finally looked up at Harry. We locked eyes and he nodded, readying his own firearm. Oh yeah, we were on the same wavelength.

    We both popped up from behind the booth and fired at the same time. The deep booms of his Defiance Deputy met the staccato burps of my Chatter as we lit up the nightclub with twin tongues of flame. Two aliens went down in as many seconds as Harry¡¯s carefully aimed shot popped a Model Three¡¯s head clean off, while I sprayed down a Model Four until it bonelessly flopped to the floor.

    The rest of the Antithesis reacted near-instantly, abandoning their game of whack-a-hologram for a chance at live prey. A small horde raced towards us, and I resisted the urge to just hold down the trigger. Just like in a Mesh-shooter, it turned out to be easier to control the gun in small bursts, and I could barely see the xenos besides.

    Harry shot again, blowing out a Four¡¯s knee, and the fireball illuminated a few other aliens for a split second. I fired into the mess, watching my point counter tick upward as Lynata kept track of my kills. Harry increased the tempo as the Antithesis grew closer, and I matched him with two longer bursts until I clicked on empty. I cursed as the xenos scrabbled over their dead, backing up as a single Model Four bounded over a dividing barrier and took a swipe at me.

    Harry quickly popped that one in the head, too, then continued to cover me as Lynata supplied a fresh magazine from thin air and I reloaded. I returned the favor by emptying the entire thing into a pair of Model Threes that tried to jump on top of him.

    The mall cop let out his own little not-swear as he too ran empty, then dropped his gun to pull me back right before a claw could slice my neck open. We retreated back into the maintenance stairwell, Harry dragging me along as I punched a Model Three in desperation. I felt a tug at my waist, then flinched as a gun went off right next to my head.

    I dropped to one knee as Harry fired his pilfered pistol again, taking out the nearest Antithesis while I finished reloading. A Model Four filled the doorway only for the both of us to fill it full of holes, then there was a short pause. Harry reached down and swiped a magazine from my other pocket as I tried to get rid of the ringing in my ear, then we filled the entrance with lead again as the dead xeno¡¯s friends ripped its body out of the way.

    Then¡­ silence. Other than the lovely, now-familiar sensation of tinnitus, and the faint thumping of music felt more than heard, there was nothing. No more aliens shuffling around, no more whip-cracks of tentacles mere inches from my face. We¡¯d killed them all.

    ¡°Was¡­ was that it?¡± I asked.

    Harry huffed, then helped me to my feet. ¡°Probably. Most Antis aren¡¯t smart enough to play dead.¡±

    I furrowed my brow. ¡°So we¡¯re done?¡±

    The mall cop gave me a look. ¡°Are you disappointed?¡±

    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s nothing like that, it¡¯s just¡­ I mean, sure, there were a few close calls there, but that just seemed kinda¡­ easy, you know? I didn¡¯t even lose any fingers this time,¡± I said, showing off the bandage around my missing digits.

    Harry put a hand to my forehead. ¡°Are you feeling alright? Did you hit your head? You don¡¯t feel like you have a fever.¡±

    I slapped his hand away. ¡°I¡¯m not sick! I¡¯m just¡­¡± I took a longer pause to really get my thoughts in order. ¡°It just seems like every other time I¡¯ve been in a fight, I almost got eaten in return. Or almost bled out. Or something. This time we killed a whole pack of the bastards and I¡¯m¡­ Okay? Sorry, I guess I¡¯m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.¡±

    Harry chuckled and gave me a pat on the back. ¡°I think I get it, yeah. Not every engagement has to end badly, though. Unless you want to poke around the bodies and make sure they¡¯re all really dead? Maybe one will jump up at ya.¡±

    I glanced at the mound of dead bodies, then back at Harry. ¡°Can¡¯t I just shoot them? That seems easier.¡±

    He chuckled again. ¡°That works too.¡±

    I shrugged and put a few more rounds into the carcasses, looking up as my counter went up once more. ¡°Oh, yeah, that one wasn¡¯t actually dead ye¡ªWait, I have how many points?¡±

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    I am assuming that your question is rhetorical.

    Harry looked over. ¡°How many did you get?¡±

    ¡°One hundred and fifty-two,¡± I breathed out. It wasn¡¯t really all that much, compared to what I knew a Samurai could get, but it was the most I¡¯d ever had. It meant that I no longer needed to limit my spending to medical supplies and ammo.

    ¡°Nice!¡± Harry responded. ¡°What do you want to do with them?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ Don¡¯t really know.¡± That wasn¡¯t exactly true; anyone who¡¯d played a Samurai-based Mesh game had some idea about the order in which to buy gear. The ¡°meta¡± was usually to focus on offense, buying a series of better and better weapons to get an exponential growth in points. Unfortunately, real life was a bit more complicated. ¡°I think I need to get some defensive gear¡ªI¡¯m a little tired of getting chewed up.¡±

    ¡°Good idea. Anything specific?¡±

    There are several viable armors within your point threshold, if you wish to hear of them.

    I held up my hand to let Harry know I wasn¡¯t ignoring him. ¡°Lynata has some suggestions.¡± I turned away from him and put a finger to my ear like I was on a call. It was still weird talking to a voice in my head. ¡°Could I get the dealer¡¯s choice? I don¡¯t feel like going through hundreds of options right now.¡±

    Certainly! Class One Protective Clothing is a sufficiently versatile catalog for lower-grade defensive options, remaining well within your budget. The catalog, along with a fully armored outfit, will cost one hundred and fifty points.

    I winced. ¡°Is there anything cheaper? That¡¯s my entire point margin.¡±

    Other options would severely compromise protection for little benefit in value.

    I sighed. ¡°What about Harry? He needs something too.¡± I pretended not to see the mall cop putting a hand over his heart out of the corner of my eye.

    The armored clothing could be split amongst the two of you, although it would protect significantly less than a full outfit.

    ¡°Alright, then do tha¡ª¡± I stopped as Harry put a hand on my shoulder.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me,¡± he said. ¡°You need it more.¡±

    I furrowed my brow. ¡°Harry, you¡¯ve saved my ass several times now. Why shouldn¡¯t I help you back?¡±

    He smiled. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve kept me safe so far. Besides, you¡¯re the one who needs to stay alive¡ªit doesn¡¯t matter if I die. You¡¯re the Samurai.¡±

    ¡°You know, you¡¯re really not helping your case here.¡±

    ¡°Just do it.¡±

    I sighed for the second time in as many minutes. ¡°Fine. Lynata, please give me the full set.¡±

    Class I Protective Clothing unlocked!

    Points reduced to¡­ 102

    New Purchase: Armored Blazer

    Points reduced to¡­ 52

    New Purchase: Armored Combat Chinos

    Points reduced to¡­ 2

    Two boxes appeared between pools of Antithesis blood, stacked on top of one another. The pieces inside were thick and functional, but also rather stylish¡ªthe sleek, neo-corpo look that I¡¯d always thought was snazzy, but never had the money to pursue. Clearly, Lynata had read my wishlist. The coat and pants were both also covered in small, discrete pockets, which would give me plenty of room to tuck all of the guns and extra magazines I¡¯d been accumulating.

    I glanced at Harry as I started to unbuckle my belt. ¡°Alright, urinal rules: eyes straight ahead, and if I catch you looking, I¡¯m punching you.¡±

    The security guard laughed as he just turned around. A quick change later and I was ready to go, feeling a lot more secure with a bunch of padding all over. The two of us spent a few minutes pushing aside the wall of corpses blocking the door, then reentered the club.

    The ad-holograms were still dancing, but the others¡ªthe real people¡ªhad stopped, and were staring at us with wide eyes. Feeling awkward, I waved, which was answered by a few more waves of hands, paws, and other appendages. One of them, an anime girl in a ruffled dress, approached and mouthed something. Unfortunately, Ember¡¯s Meshspace wasn¡¯t wired for sound, so I just cocked my head in confusion as the avatar continued to silently speak.

    One moment. The establishment¡¯s server is public, and all users appear to be connected to the local area network.

    ¡°¡ªelieve a Samurai is here to save us! Awesome, dude!¡±

    The anime girl¡¯s voice, now piping through my augs, was a lot older than I expected. It was also a man¡¯s voice. Par for the course in the Mesh, really. ¡°Uh, yeah, right.¡± I replied. ¡°You¡¯re welcome?¡±

    ¡°Hey man, do you, like, mind if I record this? I wanna post this later!¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ sure.¡± I looked around at the rest of the avatars, who were also approaching me. ¡°What¡¯re you all doing here, though? There¡¯s an incursion going on.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re in the shelter, man.¡± The avatar waved her (his?) arms in a dramatic flourish. ¡°The internet¡¯s down, so it¡¯s not like we can doomscroll. It was either this or shitty board games.¡±

    Fair enough. I¡¯d definitely spent more than a few days in Ember¡¯s servers, desperately dancing my problems away to music between ads. Too bad dancing couldn¡¯t get rid of my Antithesis problem. Probably. Actually, my dancing was so bad that it¡¯d probably offend even alien sensibilities, so maybe I was onto something there.

    My musings were cut short by the loud screech of metal on metal coming from the bar at the front of the nightclub. I didn¡¯t even have time to ask if anyone was back there before the kitchen door behind the bar burst open, revealing a glowering Model Six and a small flood of Model Threes.

    ¡°Oh, look, the other shoe.¡± I sighed, but didn¡¯t hesitate, emptying my Chatter in their general direction while I backed up. A quick search behind me revealed the pistol that Harry had dropped, and I scooped it up while tucking the Chatter away in my new pants.

    Maybe it was the armor, maybe it was the remnants of the Vitaphrine still pumping through my system, or maybe it was just the music giving me a boost of confidence¡ªin any case, I wasn¡¯t nearly as scared at the thought of facing down a Six this time around. Or maybe I was already getting desensitized to the whole thing. A worrying thought, but one I¡¯d have to save for later.

    The Antithesis barreled out from behind the bar, with the Model Six jumping right over it. The Mesh dancers, to their credit, quickly organized a distraction, which drew away most of the Threes. The Six, unfortunately, was a bit too smart for that. I braced myself against a nearby chair, putting a few rounds into it while it continued its charge towards me.

    Harry joined in from the side, but neither of us could hit anything vital in the dark. Even blowing off two of its feet barely slowed the alien¡¯s stampede. It reached me in record time, pouncing as I ducked and rolled around the nearest booth. Its next jump came at me faster than I could react, and its tackle sent me flying over the same booth. My new clothes stiffened under the impact, preventing its claws from goring me, but did nothing to protect my head¡ªI saw stars as the back of my head met the edge of a table, but I stayed conscious.

    The Model Six was between me and Harry, now, and the security guard hesitated before turning to engage the approaching Threes instead. Probably for the best¡ªI didn¡¯t need him testing just how bulletproof my new armor was¡ªbut it left me facing the larger Antithesis alone. I jumped up and stumbled to the side, barely avoiding another claw, then put a bullet into the Model Six¡¯s head at point-blank range.

    The big alien tumbled back as the round exploded in its face, and I used the opportunity to create some distance by moving around another table. The Model Six tried to follow, jumping on top of the table to take a swipe at me, but the synthetic wood snapped under its weight. It fell to the floor, slipping on its own blood. I staggered over before it could regain its footing, putting two more bullets into its head.

    The xeno slumped down, but I still vividly remembered my first encounter¡ªLynata supplied another magazine, and I proceeded to dump the entire thing into its corpse. I smiled as the point notification came up, letting me know for sure that it was dead. All in all, that was a lot smoother than the first time.

    Of course, that was when a Model Three chomped down on my ankle.

    ¡°Fuck, fuck, fuck,¡± I let out as the Antithesis dragged me down. Before I could bring my pistol around, however, another one grabbed my arm in its vice-like mouth. Neither of them could bite through my armor, but I still yelled in pain as they tried to wrench my limbs from their sockets.

    I looked over at Harry, but he was busy dealing with the rest of the pack, which had abandoned its fruitless game of tag with the holograms. I¡¯d need to deal with this myself. I punched the alien holding my arm, then swore as that did nothing but bruise my hand. I pulled the empty Chatter from my pocket instead and pistol-whipped the xeno, but it just snorted and chomped down further up my arm.

    ¡°For fuck¡¯s¡ªLynata, give me another mag! Between my legs!¡± A magazine appeared between my thighs, and I squeezed to hold it in place as I attempted to line it up with my gun¡¯s mag well. I rolled with the Antithesis as they jostled me, then raised the Chatter once I¡¯d successfully loaded it. The Model Three gripping my leg got a round between the eyes, followed by the one holding my arm getting a longer burst. It deserved it.

    I pulled myself up and quickly aimed across the room, spraying down the pack near Harry. Many of them dropped, either dead or dying, while the mall cop put down most of the rest. He was left playing ring-around-the-rosy with a single Model Three, jumping between a few booths as it snapped after him. It looked like he was out of ammo, so I shuffled closer and waited for my shot. When he next hopped out of the way, I put a short burst into the xeno. After it fell, I followed that with a single round in its skull, just to make sure it was dead.

    I took a few moments to catch my breath, then hobbled over to Harry. ¡°Well, that sucked.¡±

    The security guard huffed in response. ¡°Yeah, but it could¡¯ve been worse. Are you alright?¡±

    I rubbed the rising welt on the back of my head. ¡°I think so. This armor shit is nice.¡± My new clothes had a bunch of gouges across the front, but nothing had actually punctured the fabric. I probably should¡¯ve been a bit more pissed that my snazzy outfit was all torn up so soon after buying it, but the distressed look was actually pretty nice. Even if it was a little too twenty-thirties for my taste. ¡°Anyway, how¡¯re you holding up?¡±

    Harry put a hand to his ear, which looked like it was bleeding a little. ¡°I think you nicked me there, but I¡¯ll take it over getting chewed on. Just be more careful next time.¡±

    I hung my head. ¡°... Yeah, sorry. But at least I got ¡®em all.¡± I inspected the piles of dead Antithesis around us, looking for movement. There was none. ¡°I think we¡¯re done here.¡±

    That was when another Model Six jumped out from behind the bar, and the door at the front of the club burst open.

    ¡°Oh, for the love of¡ª¡±

    I was cut off by a deafeningly loud boom. It took me a second to realize that the sound had been a gunshot, and that the silhouette in the front doorway was human. The man strutted in, chuckling as he racked his shotgun. ¡°That¡¯s why I always carry three-inch slugs.¡± He put the barrel to the head of the Model Six, which was still trying to pick itself up after his first shot. ¡°Yippee-ki-yay, mother¡ª¡± The rest of his sentence was covered by the blast, which spread the xeno¡¯s brains across the floor.

    Instead of finding Manny, he¡¯d found us.

 Chapter Twelve - Shopping at the Mall (But Iéˆ¥æª“ Shopping for Explosives)

    Chapter Twelve - Shopping at the Mall (But I¡¯m Shopping for Explosives)

    ¡°There¡¯s been a marked increase in ¡®business casual¡¯ offerings this year. The idea being that if the zero-point-one percent are walking around in sweatpants and T-shirts, then clearly that style of clothing must be the right kind of attire to wear to work. Unfortunately for the middle-upper class, they do not possess¡ªwhat my colleague has so eloquently called¡ªthe ¡®fuck-you money¡¯ that the zero-point-one percent have, and thus are still forced to wallow about in social tradition and etiquette. As such, we will not be offering a business casual option in our catalogue, and I will fire every single one of you who suggests otherwise.¡±

    ¡ªYanis Papadokalis, CEO of Armani Global Fashions, the year before declaring bankruptcy

    ***

    ¡°Manny!¡± Harry waved.

    ¡°Hey hey, look who it is!¡± Manny returned the greeting, marching over and wrapping Harry in a hug. ¡°Long time no see! You look like a pile of dog shit.¡±

    The security guard chuckled. ¡°Thanks. Now, I wish we had more time to catch up, but let¡¯s keep this short.¡± He put a hand on my shoulder. ¡°This is Ben. He¡¯s our new resident Samurai.¡±

    Manny turned and eyed me for a moment. He was even rougher in person, with a deep scowl and some fresh scars around his face. He didn¡¯t say anything as he finished looking me up and down, instead pivoting back to Harry. ¡°Is he a Samurai-Samurai, or a ¡®Samurai¡¯?¡± He asked, raising his hands in air-quotes.

    Okay, ouch. I get I didn¡¯t look like much, but damn.

    Harry cringed as I frowned. ¡°He¡¯s a Samurai. I¡¯ve seen him pop in a bunch of things today.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Manny responded, ¡°but look at him. I¡¯ve seen gangsters with better drip.¡± He flipped his shotgun over his shoulder and started loading shells from its attached bandolier, sparing me a glance as he did. ¡°How long have you been a Samurai, bud?¡±

    Wow, I really didn¡¯t like this guy. He was beginning to remind me of my father. ¡°I got my AI today,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ve been killing aliens, but it¡¯s slow. Haven¡¯t had time to buy any good stuff yet.¡±

    The old marine snorted in response. ¡°Yeah, thought so. Well, we¡¯ll get you there. Let¡¯s go.¡± Without another word, he stomped towards the front of the bar.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Harry called out, shuffling after Manny. ¡°What are we doing?¡±

    ¡°What do you think?¡± Manny replied as I tramped after them. ¡°You want to kill Antithesis, right? We¡¯re not going to do that by sitting around with our thumbs up our asses all day.¡±

    ¡°Manny, stop.¡± Harry caught up to the marine and grabbed his arm. ¡°We need to actually have a plan.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s there to plan?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We can¡¯t just go charging out and tangle with every bunch of Antis we see.¡± Harry pointed at me. ¡°Ben¡¯s AI is linked to the cameras; it can tell us where they are and where they aren¡¯t, which means we can find isolated pockets and take them apart piecemeal. On top of that, Ben needs to be the one getting the kills: he gets the points, he can buy more equipment.¡±

    Manny sighed, then turned to me. ¡°Fine. Where does the AI say we should go?¡±

    There are significant gaps in the security camera network¡ªhowever, predictive modeling suggests that there exists a collection of Antithesis in Le Savoureux on this floor. There is also a single pack of Model Threes on the floor above, but they are likely ignorable given the security of shelters on the upper levels.

    Manny¡¯s eyes widened as his augs lit up, Lynata relaying her words to him as well. ¡°Well shit, you¡¯re a Samurai alright.¡± He took on a contemplative mien for a moment before patting around his pockets and pulling an object from them. ¡°Know what this is?¡±

    I stared at the grenade. ¡°Yeah.¡±

    The marine gave a dangerous smile. ¡°Good. I¡¯ve been preparing for this day for a long time. Took awhile to find someone willing to sell ¡®em, and longer to smuggle ¡®em in, but now I have half a dozen just sittin¡¯ around, waiting to be used.¡± He pulled the grenade away as I reached out to grab it. ¡°Ah, ah, ah. Prove to me you can actually kill some Antis without blowing your own head off, and maybe I¡¯ll let you have a couple.¡±

    I frowned. I¡¯d already lived this long, and he could clearly see the mountain of dead xenos behind us. It wasn¡¯t like I didn¡¯t know how to throw a grenade, either¡ªI¡¯d used them plenty of times in Mesh-shooters. Still, perhaps it wasn¡¯t completely unreasonable for the guy to not just hand me dangerous explosives. ¡°Deal.¡±

    A waypoint appeared in the corner of my vision, marking the likely locations of Antithesis around the area. There were a lot below us, but only a couple on our floor. If we ignored the small group above us like Lynata said, we could easily clear this floor and then work our way down until we¡¯d cleared the whole Shopplex. I really didn¡¯t like the idea of dealing with that many aliens, but maybe I¡¯d have the gear to deal with them by then. A bridge to cross when we got there.

    Manny led the way, silently gliding across the floor and whipping his gun around at the slightest sound. Before I could follow, Harry pulled me aside.

    ¡°Sorry, he¡¯s not usually this bad,¡± he whispered.

    ¡°He¡¯s a dick.¡± I replied.

    Harry sighed. ¡°Like I said before, he¡¯s rough. A little too much time dealing with snot-nosed thieves, I think. But once he gets to know you, he¡¯ll fight to the death for ya. Just¡­ give him time. He¡¯ll come around.¡±

    I snorted, but held back from saying anything else. Harry hadn¡¯t steered me wrong yet, and at this point I had enough experience in the service industry that I could empathize with Manny¡¯s hatred for entitled idiots. The spoiled rich kids who shopped on these upper floors were probably even worse, and I looked just like them right now. So I simply rolled my eyes and nodded, then quickly padded after the old marine.

    I tried to copy Manny¡¯s steps, but couldn¡¯t quite accomplish the same silent footfalls without constantly watching my own feet. I nearly stumbled a few times looking around instead, then gave up altogether when Manny gave a deadpan look back at me, clearly unimpressed with my attempt at stealth.

    The drone of ad-jingles were at least a lot more obvious in the empty mall, mercifully drowning out the remaining noise of our footsteps, but also made it much harder to hear any Antithesis that might be around us. I kept my head on a swivel, watching the escalators and store entrances, but nothing stirred. We were almost to the first Antithesis marker when an ad caught my eye, causing me to stop and Harry to almost bump into me.

    Manny soon noticed our pause. ¡°What¡¯re you doing?¡± he hissed. ¡°They¡¯re over there.¡±

    I moved a bit closer to Manny and crouched behind a convenient kiosk, pointing back at the vending machine I¡¯d seen. ¡°Mind if we make a little snack break first? I haven¡¯t eaten anything all day.¡±

    ¡°Fucken seriously?¡± The old marine raised a brow.

    ¡°What? I skipped breakfast.¡± As if to punctuate the sentiment, my stomach gave a loud growl of hunger. ¡°See? I don¡¯t want my stomach to compromise us or whatever.¡±

    Manny ran a hand down his face. ¡°Alright, fine, not like I¡¯ve had a fucken thing to eat either.¡±

    I carefully stalked back to the vending machine, quickly followed by the other two. The three of us mimed a bit back and forth, Harry and Manny eventually devolving into a game of Rock Paper Scissors, before I sighed. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll pay.¡± I flicked through a few options on my augs, sending a few thousand credits to the machine as the security guards pointed out items they wanted.

    I winced as the machine whirred and clunked, but it was a thankfully small sound in a sea of other noises. The former soldiers took positions around me, watching to make sure nothing snuck up on us, as I extracted the first few snacks. I tapped on Harry¡¯s shoulder, passing out the haul and switching positions so he could spend a few seconds eating in peace. He then switched places with Manny, letting the old marine eat his fill, before finally giving me a chance.

    I winced as the ice-cold pop can brushed against the stumps of my missing digits. The can was the only thing I¡¯d gotten for myself¡ªthe lenticular gangster on the side of the can, firing a comically large pistol with the words ¡°Pop Pop!¡± above it, was the same as the ad on the front of the vending machine, and the real reason I¡¯d wanted to stop. My whole body shook as the can hissed open, followed by a rush of euphoria as I greedily slurped the drink down.

    Fascinating. Chemical dependency is an interesting phenomenon in biological species. A natural survival mechanism, suborned by industries to create a captive consumer base. Disheartening, but sophontologically relevant across many species. As an AI, I can do nothing more than simulate the sensation, but I have found it intriguing in the past. I find it less so now that my own Vanguard is afflicted by it. I would ask that you please purchase a dose of Cleanse now.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    I hummed as Lynata spoke. It¡¯d been three days since I last had a Pop-Pop¡ªnot nearly long enough for withdrawal to truly set in, and the symptoms weren¡¯t that bad anyways. I¡¯d been drinking this shit for more than a decade at this point, and it¡¯d seen me through some dark times in my life. The addiction was as psychological as it was physical, and I wasn¡¯t sure even Protector magic-tech would be able to fix that. But if it made her feel better¡­ ¡°How much?¡±

    Five points.

    ¡°Fine, buy it.¡±

    The box appeared next to me on the kiosk I was leaning on. It was a slim thing, containing a single pill nestled in a little slice of foam. I swallowed the pill and washed it down with a sip of the pop, just for that extra dose of irony, and waited. After less than a minute, everything became sharper. My limbs became a little less heavy, and I no longer felt like shivving a guy just to get another sip of Pop-Pop. Damn, this shit really was cheating.

    The nanites have also cleansed your body of the Vitaphrine¡¯s lingering effects. You are free to consume another dose if necessary.

    I shook myself out. ¡°Nah, I don¡¯t think I wanna do that anymore.¡± I refocused my attention on the security guards watching me. ¡°You two ready to go?¡±

    After getting two affirmatives, I reluctantly set the rest of the can of pop down and pulled the Chatter out of my waistband. We continued on our way, resuming our positions with Manny in front and Harry in the rear. As I passed Harry, however, the security guard stopped me with an arm and passed me a large candy bar, which I accepted with a grateful nod. He must¡¯ve seen me buy only the pop for myself.

    I finished the snack just as we approached the Antithesis site marked by Lyanata. It was a fancy-looking restaurant, just another one of the revolving eateries that took over this space every few months, selling bland¡ªand staggeringly overpriced¡ªitems that they passed off as food to their rich patrons. The current iteration was some sort of French cafe, filled with cutesy little tables and a neglected salad bar in the corner. A large portion of the restaurant was obscured by curtains drawn around most of the booths, but movement could still be discerned through the gaps. Some Model Fours were brushing aside curtains with their long tentacles, dragging abandoned plates of food off their tables to be consumed by Model Threes, while something larger stalked in the back of the cafe.

    ¡°The fuck is that?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Model Five,¡± Harry and Manny said in unison.

    Biological warfare Model, frequently seen in conjunction with Model Fours. The quills covering its body can be individually launched at a velocity sufficient to pierce modern body armor¡ªalthough it would struggle to puncture your own clothing¡ªand it is capable of emitting a toxic gas from a series of organs integrated into its tongue.

    ¡°Fuuuuck, I really don¡¯t wanna go anywhere near that thing.¡± I murmured, watching the bear-sized monstrosity casually brush aside a serving cart with its bulk.

    Antidotes for its toxin can be purchased at low cost, and it is not nearly as armored as a Model Six. You can do it!

    Before I could ask Lynata for a few doses of antidote as a preemptive measure, Manny interrupted. ¡°Good thing we don¡¯t have to get near it; I¡¯ll just toss in a grenade or two.¡±

    As the old marine reached for the door, Harry grabbed his arm. ¡°Wait, you should let Ben throw it, let him get the kills.¡±

    ¡°No way, I¡¯m not just going to give ¡®em a concussion grenade,¡± Manny whispered back. ¡°For all I know, he¡¯ll throw it wrong and send it right back at us.¡±

    ¡°Then let him deal with it himself. He has Samurai firearms.¡±

    ¡°Alrighty then,¡± Manny said, taking on a vicious smile as he turned to me. ¡°How about it, bud? Wanna charge in there, guns blazing? I¡¯ve always wanted to see a Samurai up close and personal.¡±

    I glanced at the pack of murderous Antithesis in the restaurant. ¡°I think I¡¯d prefer it if you just tossed in the grenade.¡±

    Manny snorted. ¡°Thought so.¡± However, instead of doing just that, he gave the front of the cafe a once-over. ¡°On second thought, maybe not. Too much glass¡ªwould just shred us when the grenade goes off. Tell you what,¡± he said, crouching back down and pointing at the Model Five moving around in the back. ¡°If you two deal with the Antis in the front, I can go long and probably get it far enough that it won¡¯t blow up in our face. Take out the big fucker and some of the others over there.¡±

    Harry nodded along, bringing his head up just enough to see over the windowsill. ¡°That could work. We push in, Ben and I suppress the Fours at the front while you throw it. Ben, that salad bar should protect you from the blast¡ªrun for that as soon as you get inside. Manny, that big table over there looks like solid wood; could probably take some shrapnel. I push it over when I get in, and you join me behind it after throwing the grenade.¡±

    I paid rapt attention as the two talked tactics. It was a big change-up from the last few hours, where I¡¯d just been rushed from one situation to another with little more than time to buy equipment. We actually had a cohesive plan, one made by former soldiers who actually knew what they were doing, and that made me a lot more confident in the whole thing. After a few finishing touches, I bought a round of toxin antidote pills for the three of us, then we stacked up on the door. Harry reached over and opened it with one swift motion, and I rushed in.

    I immediately hung right, firing my Chatter one-handed as I sprinted for cover. The unaimed burst did little more than nick one of the Model Fours, but it distracted the xenos long enough for the security guards to charge in without notice. Harry put a few well-placed shots in the nearest Model Threes, knocking them down before throwing over his designated table and ducking behind it. Manny, meanwhile, pulled the pin and threw the grenade like a baseball, sending it in a perfect arc into the back of the restaurant, where it smacked the Model Five in the face.

    The bestial Antithesis roared and unleashed a volley of quills in our direction, most of which mulched the cafe¡¯s booths or left thumb-sized holes in the bulletproof glass behind us. One punched into my blazer just above my heart, throwing me backwards and driving the air from my lungs as the Samurai-grade protection tightened around the impact. I sprayed down a charging Model Four in front of me and desperately dove back into the measly cover offered by the bar, not wanting to be exposed at all when the grenade went off.

    Manny, meanwhile, popped right back out from behind the table and continued firing at the aliens around us. The crazy marine cackled maniacally as he emptied his shotgun, ducking down at the last instant as a deep concussive crack filled the space. A hail of clattering quills and a mist of green blood was flung in our direction, and I glanced out to see that the Model Five had been pulped by the grenade. Sharing its fate were a small number of Model Threes and a collection of splintered tables in a ring thirty feet wide.

    Just as we had planned, the three of us jumped out of cover right after the grenade detonated, laying into the remaining xenos as they attempted to shake off their collective concussions. I took my time aiming, putting controlled bursts into the center of the bigger Models until I received points for the kill, then moving on. When my Chatter ran empty, I palmed it and pulled out one of the other pistols in my pockets, doming a Model Three attempting to pounce.

    ¡°Hah hah, nice one!¡± Manny shouted to me, slamming shells into his gun as fast as possible and putting down anything that got close. When Harry took over, clearing the space immediately in front of them, the old marine dropped his shotgun and pulled a second grenade out of his pocket, throwing it through the kitchen doors at the very back of the restaurant. A single Model Four exited the kitchen just in time for the explosive to go off, turning the tentacled alien into chunks of calamari.

    Harry and I took turns putting down the few remaining Antithesis, while Manny marched into the kitchen and declared it clear after firing a single round into whatever was still alive back there. I tallied up our kills, using Lynata¡¯s handy points counter to make sure that everything was actually dead, then gave a thumbs up to the other two in lieu of actually speaking. I could barely hear anything through the ringing in my ears anyways.

    ¡°Not bad, not bad.¡± Manny practically yelled as he approached me, slapping me on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re pretty good after all.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, and you¡¯re not too bad for an old dude.¡± I shot back.

    The marine guffawed. ¡°Not too old to kick your ass, so watch your mouth. Still, good work. And Harry¡ª¡± he turned to the other security guard, ¡°¡ªhere I thought all that security shit had made you soft. I think you¡¯re an even better shot than me!¡±

    Harry huffed and puffed as he walked up, having finished checking all of the Antithesis bodies. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you can be so excited after all that. That table didn¡¯t do anything to stop those spines¡ªif it hadn¡¯t missed us, they would¡¯ve gone right through us.¡±

    Manny waved it off. ¡°Bah, it still missed us. God, I¡¯d forgotten how fun it was to kill Antis.¡± He turned back to the scene of devastation at the back of the restaurant, holding out his hands like he was taking a picture. ¡°I think I¡¯ll make this my new screensaver. Has some good feng shui, or whatever that shit is.¡±

    I was starting to think that Manny wasn¡¯t quite sane. ¡°Riiiight.¡± I said. ¡°So, have I ¡®proven myself¡¯ now?¡±

    The old marine stopped and gave me a shrewd look. After a second of contemplation, he swiped a mug off one of the few remaining tables and handed it to me. ¡°Throw this over there.¡± he said, indicating the back of the restaurant.

    I stared at him, then shrugged and gave a half-hearted throw. The mug didn¡¯t go quite as far as I had aimed, shattering after bouncing off one of the alien corpses littering the floor.

    Manny shrugged. ¡°Meh, good enough.¡± He lifted one leg and rested it on the salad bar, pulling up the pant cuff and revealing another grenade tucked into his boot. With a little flourish, he extracted the explosive and presented it to me, doing all but bowing as I took it from him.

    ¡°Seriously, that¡¯s it?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I could always take it back, if you want.¡±

    ¡°No, no,¡± I responded, stashing the grenade away in one of my back pockets. I glanced over to Harry, who had finally finished catching his breath. ¡°So, anything else we need to do here, or are you alright with moving on?¡±

    The security guard nodded. ¡°Works for me. Manny?¡±

    After getting another affirmative from the marine, we exited the cafe and breathed in the comparatively fresh air of the rest of the mall. After checking that none of the Antithesis spots had moved substantially, I called for a short halt. I was just north of two hundred points now, which meant that I could afford something or another that was better than my current duds. Just as I was contemplating whether or not I should buy some stuff for Manny and Harry, too, a sharp bang went off somewhere above us, shaking dust from the ceiling tiles.

    ¡°What was that?¡± I asked at the same time as Manny perked up.

    ¡°Hey, they must¡¯ve found my little booby-trap.¡± The old marine smirked. ¡°Dumb fuckers.¡±

    An ear-piercing, electronic warble suddenly filled the space. Lights flashed overhead as a robotic voice droned over hidden speakers, ¡°Attention, attention: a fire alarm has been activated in the building. Please proceed to the stairwells and exit the building.¡± The message repeated a few times before switching over to an even more annoying alarm.

    ¡°Ah, yeah, forgot about that.¡± Manny yelled over the din. ¡°Honestly surprised it didn¡¯t happen sooner; grenades and fire alarms don¡¯t exactly mix.¡± He calmly finished reloading his shotgun as he gestured to the flashing lights. ¡°Give it a few minutes and they should shut off, just keep your eyes peeled to make sure nothing sneaks up on us in the meantime!¡±

    I nodded and covered my ears in a vain attempt to drown out the noise. That was when I felt it: a faint tremor in the floor, growing steadily more violent over the course of a minute. I finally dared to stick my head past the glass bannister next to an escalator, and what I saw below us made my blood run cold.

    We had alerted the horde.