
	Welcome to the Rose Blair Museum of Human Endurance!

	Accept?

¡°Shit,¡± I said as I tried to blink away the screen. Nothing worked at first, not until I eyed the accept button and blinked at it. ¡°I hate those,¡± I said as I let go of Daniel¡¯s chair for a moment and rubbed at the side of my face where I could feel the minuscule wires of my eyegear under my skin. ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t accept,¡± Daniel said. ¡°The firmware in a place like this is shit. You¡¯ll be getting pop ups in no time.¡± ¡°How do I refuse it?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Wait ten seconds, a refuse prompt should appear,¡± Daniel said. ¡°Ah, I see it! Thanks.¡± I cursed my luck and grabbed Daniel¡¯s wheelchair just as a flurry of boxes started to appear in the corners of my vision.

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¡°Oh, come on,¡± I said as I blinked at the tiny Xs to close the pop-ups. A few of them tried to open up browsers right in front of me despite being closed. Had to shut those down in a hurry. The little fans on the cpu of my gear started to spin. It tickled the back of my neck. Daniel laughed. ¡°Just endure it for a bit. Maybe keep your eye closed and use the other?¡± I glared at him. ¡°Oh, yeah. Uh. Once we¡¯re in, I can jack into your system and run an anti-malware sweep. Free of charge.¡± I weighed the offer. Daniel had pulled a few pranks before. That thing with the tiny cameras in the bathrooms had earned him a beating, but that had been years ago. And he was usually pretty alright. The dancing images of naked women in the corner of my vision made up my mind for me. ¡°What''s in it for you?¡± ¡°I get to spend time with two pretty ladies and away from the kittens?¡± Daniel asked. ¡°... fair enough.¡± The kittens in question wereoohingandahhingaround the entrance lobby. It was a simple enough room. Large, and done up in sterile white and chrome, with holograms of New Montreal¡¯s most popular Samurai hovering off to the side. I recognized Three Swipes, and Tiny, and Maplefly as their forms flashed by, but the others, especially those long dead or the B-listers, were complete strangers. Samurai weren¡¯t my thing. If there was really a hierarchy of people who were important out there, then they were just a step below the CEOs and presidents of all the biggest megacorps in the world. The fact that half of those were Samurai themselves just blurred the line. I didn¡¯t buy into the whole ¡®superhuman¡¯ schtick some of them put on, and their whole gimmick of trying to look like heroes while living in penthouses just rubbed me the wrong way. Lucy was way into them though, so I had picked some names up by osmosis. ¡°Children,¡± Bitchbot said, snapping me out of my daydreams. ¡°Please line up and present your identification chits at the gate.¡± The kids formed a rough line leading up to the security gate where an android smiled at them, checked their ID, and clamped a bracelet onto their right wrist before letting them through with a ¡°Enjoy your day at the Rose Blair Museum, courtesy of Nimbletainment Inc!¡± With each repetition of the greeting and slogan, another kitten was let through the gate and into the next room over. I pushed Daniel up to the gate before me, and after sliding over an ID chit that was scanned by the android¡¯s glowing eyes, he was let through with a shiny new bracelet. Then it was my turn. ¡°Here,¡± I said as I fished my ID chit from my wallet and placed it on the counter. The android picked it up, scanned it, and placed it back down with a pleasant smile. ¡°Thank you, Catherine Leblanc. Please present your right hand for your confirmation bracelet.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± I said. The Android paused for a moment. ¡°Please present your right hand for your confirmation bracelet.¡± Sighing, I raised the six-inch stub that was my right arm. The burns and ugly scars weren¡¯t visible under my tied off shirt, but I knew they were there. ¡°Can you put it on this?¡± The android froze up for a moment, staring at the missing limb. ¡°Please present your right hand for your confirmation bracelet.¡± ¡°Can I give you my left?¡± I asked. I knew where this was going and hoped the primitive junk AI in the android could skip past the trouble. ¡°Please present yourrighthand for your confirmation bracelet.¡± I resisted the urge to say something rude. ¡°Can you verify my ID? Please check under the disabilities subheading.¡± ¡°I can,¡± the android said. ¡°By presenting your Id chit you have consented to giving Nimbletainment a current copy, in perpetuity, of your personal information. You have... two major disabilities. One missing right eye with mild-to-severe nerve damage. One missing right arm with nerve damage associated with mild-to-severe burns.¡± ¡°Can I put on a bracelet on my right hand if I don¡¯t have a right hand?¡± I asked. Lucy patted my back, a reminder to keep civil. ¡°I will contact customer support. One moment. You are a valuable customer!¡± ¡°Oh, fuck me.¡± Ancient pop music from the mid 2020s started playing from out of the android¡¯s mouth and I stepped to the side, my only desire right then was to beat my head against the wall to the tune of some long-dead artist¡¯s idea of sellable pop. This day was off to a spectacular start. *** Chapter Two - Walkabout Punks Chapter Two - Walkabout Punks ¡°Why ¡®Samurai?¡¯ Fuck, I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s not the Protectors that picked the name. When you boot-up for the first time they call you the vanguard of humanity. You¡¯re told straight-up that you¡¯re the one at the front, the one breaking the tide. Samurai? That¡¯s some jacked-up punk¡¯s clever idea that stuck like shit on drywall. Makes sense, once you¡¯re one of us, it¡¯s like... you¡¯re part of a new caste, you know?¡± -- Rising Tide, Interview with CyberStar, June 2032 *** ¡°Yeah, thanks,¡± I said before pulling the bracelet on tight with my teeth. ¡°You are very very welcome,¡± the half-asleep voice of some kid in India said out of the android¡¯s mouth. ¡°Thank you for using... Nimbertainment Inc¡¯s services today.¡± I made sure the bracelet wasn¡¯t too tight and tested my wrist¡¯s flexibility by showing my middle finger to the robot sitting behind the desk. Lucy giggled and moved over to the android. She had her own bracelet on in just a few seconds. Still a little angry, I stomped to the entrance of the museum followed by the clack-clack of Lucy¡¯s crutches on the marble floor. ¡°Let¡¯s go exploring!¡± Lucy said as soon as we were away from the security desk. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to look after the kids,¡± I said. We turned around a corner and found ourselves on a little landing above the open-concept museum. Most of the displays had walls around their backs, with a few of them clustered together in bunches that left plenty of room for people to walk around in. I imagined they were expecting decently large crowds. As it was, there were maybe three dozen kids running around. Hovering camera drones were moving about, filming the kids staring at displays or poking at the interactive exhibits that were meant to teach them something. They were probably getting great footage of the kittens and the kids from other places enjoying themselves to add to their media feeds. ¡°Bah, the kittens aren¡¯t all dumb. They can run around and bleed off some energy for a bit. The threat of us alone should keep them in line,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Ain¡¯t that right?¡± she barked at the twins who squealed and ran off giggling. ¡°You¡¯re terrifying,¡± I deadpanned. I nodded to the main corridor that, according to the floorplan hovering by the entrance, bisected the main floor. ¡°We can find Daniel. My eye is still giving me trouble.¡± Lucy grinned her special grin and click-clacked her way ahead of me. ¡°We can check things out as we go!¡± Snorting, I followed. For all that I didn¡¯t care much for museums that were more propaganda pieces than anything else, I was still impressed by the exhibits by the front entrance. The first steps along the main path opened up to a one-to-one scale model of an Antithesis that stood tall and menacing in the middle of the corridor. Its four-hinged jaws were opened wide, with a hovercar crushed within, and its skin bristled with tapered spikes that looked genuinely dangerous. Holograms of different Samurai were fading into existence around the monster, some of them flying in the air on hoverboards or with jetpacks, others appeared next to the monster or behind holographic cover with fantastical weapons. One or two even appeared to ride the creature atop its back, close-ranged weapons gleaming as they prepared to strike down their foe. ¡°Cool,¡± Lucy said. I didn¡¯t think of contradicting her. It was an impressive showpiece. ¡°That¡¯s a Model Twelve,¡± Daniel said as he rolled over. He pointed to the monster¡¯s long, drawn-out backside. ¡°See its second abdomen bit? There¡¯s supposed to be some sort of organic ECM in there. They can spoof even the best cameras and scanners, make them think that the entire beastie is meant to be there. That¡¯s why they¡¯re called Bus-Bugs. They get flagged as hoverbuses all the time and they carry Model Ones and Threes all over the place.¡± ¡°Have you been wiki-walking?¡± Lucy asked, her tone light and syrupy sweet. Daniel¡¯s cheeks reddened just a pinch. ¡°Nah, I read the plaque,¡± he said. ¡°Uh, hey, still need help with your aug-gear?¡± I nodded. It was surprisingly easy to pretend that I wasn¡¯t seeing the flashes of images out of the corner of my eye, but they were pervasive and annoying nonetheless. I decided that I could do without being asked if I had erectile dysfunction that afternoon. ¡°If you can get rid of this mess I promise not to mock you when you fanboy about the Samurai.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be that way, Cat,¡± Lucy said. She placed a hand on Daniel¡¯s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ¡°We¡¯d love the help.¡± ¡°R-right. C¡¯mon, there¡¯s a cafeteria over there with seats and such.¡± The cafeteria, as it turned out, was more of a glorified waiting room. A few benches, a single little table, and a row of a dozen vending machines crammed in together against one wall, their neon ads trying to grab the attention of anyone passing by. We sat--or at least, us girls sat, Daniel having beaten us to that particular punch when his legs stopped working--around a small table with a statue of a girl in a frilly dress standing in its middle. ¡°Which one is that?¡± I asked as I pointed to the girl. Daniel eyed the statue for just a second before replying. ¡°Neon Girl Happy-Chan. One of those first generation Samurai. She¡¯s still around. Scary as shit cause, you know, first gen.¡± ¡°Hrm,¡± I said. I watched Daniel pull out a boxy little device, half of it wrapped in tape and the rest covered in scuff marks and cracks. He fiddled with the screen and managed to get the tiny machine to spit out a foot-tall hologram of a spiralling galaxy. The boy pulled out a wire from a pocket next to his chair, then sighed as it came out a tangled mess. ¡°Right,¡± he said as he undid the knot in a hurry. ¡°Jack into this.¡± I reached to the base of my neck, found the plug-in port of my aug-gear by feel alone, and removed the tab covering it. The gear was shit. Older than some of the kids we were meant to be looking after and just as poorly cared for. Still, it had been free. An act of charity by some local distributor that wanted to look good in the feeds by showing how generous they were while unloading their stock of low-end aug-gear on some poor orphans. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. It was better than nothing. Without the right kind of gear a person couldn¡¯t interface with half the media available out there. ¡°Right, look at this shit,¡± Daniel said. The little computer before him shifted, the display now showing three columns with hundreds of tiny specs darting from one to the other. He pointed to the biggest of the three. ¡°That¡¯s your main OS on your gear. The other column is your typical hardware bits, CPU, batteries, thermal recharging, network modems, you get it.¡± He pointed to the third column. ¡°And this one here is the neural uplink stuff.¡± The third and smallest column was warped and twisted in on itself in a way that started to give me a headache if I stared at it too much. It was like having six dozen mobius strips spinning into each other in a sort of optical illusion. ¡°Weird,¡± I said. ¡°Yeah, the neural shit is all Clarktech all the way. No one messes much with it, except for a few Samurai who are into that. Your problem is here, and here.¡± His eyes wiggled around wildly for a bit, then two sections on the normal columns lit up in red. ¡°You¡¯ve got viruses around your OS and in your netgear¡¯s drivers.¡± ¡°Awesome,¡± I said. I wasn¡¯t completely clueless here. We had decent classes on computer tech and the like at the orphanage, usually supplied by one company or another that wanted to train us as future employees. I was sure some of my fellow orphans had been coders and developers on the very same viruses that were pissing me off right then. ¡°Can you remove them?¡± Lucy asked. I chimed in before Daniel could. ¡°Probably not. If they¡¯re in the hardware controls then they need root access, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, pretty much,¡± he said. ¡°Good news is we¡¯re in the middle of the city. The internet here is hella fast.¡± I frowned. ¡°What¡¯s that got to do with it?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll make redownloading your entire OS faster?¡± he asked. I leaned forward onto the table and let my forehead land on its cool surface. ¡°Fine,¡± I said. Lucy played with my hair and talked to Daniel about which sections of the museum he wanted to look into while prompts and lines of code flashed by my vision. I didn¡¯t have much saved onto the gear, just a few preferences I¡¯d need to fiddle with later. It wasn¡¯t a big loss, but it was a pain in the ass. ¡°And we¡¯re done!¡± Daniel said. ¡°Try it out?¡± I lifted my head and looked around the room. No more pop-ups. No clock at the top right of my vision the way I liked it either. ¡°Can¡¯t even tell if it¡¯s on,¡± I said. ¡°Look at the vending machines,¡± he said. I turned and stared at the least offensively coloured machine for a few seconds. A bow appeared before me, floating as if hovering a couple of feet away.

ChillMaster! The Chillest!*
Sparky Coola
Hot Brown Drink
Shiawase Cola
Prepsi
Golden Goose
*Not actually the chillest

¡°Yeah, it works,¡± I said. ¡°And these prices are highway robbery.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a museum, you want cheap drinks, go buy them elsewhere,¡± Daniel said. Lucy jumped to her feet, then gripped the edge of the table not to fall over. ¡°We can move on!¡± she said. I grinned after her and got up while pulling the plug out of my gear. ¡°Here, and thanks.¡± ¡°No problem,¡± Daniel said. ¡°Every boy dreams of going on a date with two girls.¡± I snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t try your luck. I don¡¯t mind smacking idiots around, wheelchair or no.¡± ¡°You¡¯d hit a cripple?¡± Daniel said with a laugh. We got up, Lucy pushed off the bench before sliding her crutches under her arms. As the only one with working legs I bounced to my feet and spun around Daniel. ¡°You can hit a cripple if you¡¯re also a cripple. It¡¯s a big loophole, you know.¡± ¡°Ah, the infamous cripple-clause,¡± Lucy said with a smart nod. ¡°It¡¯s why I have these crutches instead of some fancy gravity rig. So I can use them as a weapon of last resort.¡± Shaking my head, I headed our little group out of the cafeteria area, then looked around. Nose was leaning against a glass display, one finger in his nostril and with an unamused Junior next to him. The other kids around weren¡¯t my problem so I paid them no mind. ¡°Where to?¡± I asked. ¡°I wanna see the pretty dresses,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Seriously?¡± I asked. ¡°Hell yeah. There¡¯s an entire Samurai fashion section.¡± Lucy pointed to a little sign hanging off of a pillar. One look at it opened up a small map of the museum, fashion section included. ¡°What¡¯s that have to do with human endurance?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d at least try to keep things on theme.¡± ¡°Maybe it talks about the endurance of the miniskirt and its effects on humanity?¡± Daniel wondered. ¡°Shush you,¡± I said. Daniel grinned up at me. ¡°I want to see the tech section. They¡¯ve got first generation decks and aug-gear. Like, stuff from twenty-twenty. We can mock how they thought thirty-two gigs of ram was a lot?¡± I sighed to let the two know just how much of a long suffering saint I was, then got behind Daniel and started pushing. ¡°Tech first. Then Lucy can bore us to sleep while gushing about... lace or whatever.¡± ¡°Hey!¡¯ Lucy shouted. I was surprised at how much fun I was having as I pushed Daniel along. Then the lights in the museum flashed red, the entire building trembled, and what I could see of the sky turned a deep crimson. Chapter Three - Incursion Detected Chapter Three - Incursion Detected Incursion protocol is simple. Conventional armed forces can, at best, slow down or stall an Antithesis incursion. That is, most of the so-called ¡®models¡¯ between zero and ten can be defeated with regular weaponry with sufficiently concentrated firepower. This is good. It gives the civilians a chance to find shelter until the samurai arrive. Hrm? If they don¡¯t arrive? Well, then you¡¯re right fucked, aren¡¯t you? -- Professor Asimov, Lectures on the Antithesis Threat, New Oxford University 2027 *** I gasped when my vision flashed red. Two words filled my world.


	Incursion Detected!?

¡°Oh no,¡± Lucy said from right next to me. I felt her hand fumbling for mine and I squeezed hers as the prompt before me flicked away and was replaced by a loading circle right in the middle of my vision. A new prompt opened up, this one with a map pointing me towards the far end of the museum. A large prompt hovered under the map for a few seconds before both moved to the corner of my vision.

Do Not Panic

Message and Map brought to you, courtesy of AdamsCorp

¡°Oh shit,¡± Daniel said. He was looking out the windows lining the roof. I followed his gaze to see huge black things pouring out of rips in the sky. They were long, black, and covered in wiggling bits of flesh, but I could only guess at how big they were with nothing to give me a sense of scale. Smaller flakes of... stuff shot past the big lumbering alien things, each one only a hundreth the size of the big things. Then I saw one of the flakes crash into a hovercar trying to get away. The skies lit up with beams of light and streams of bullets so thick and bright they looked like jets of glowing water. The distant roar of heavy machine gun fire filtered into the museum. Some of the smaller alien pods exploded apart in mid-air. ¡°Oh shit,¡± I agreed. The big ones had to be the size of small skyscrapers, and they were coming down to Earth with the grace of bricks doing as bricks did when falling from a great height. ¡°Move! Move! Move!¡± Someone screamed. An adult. I had never given much of a crap about the whole ¡®listen to the adults¡¯ thing, but I was willing to make an exception. We rushed towards where the map was pointing us to go, kids streaming by and screaming, the few adults from the schools around us directing their charges ahead. I tried to spot the kittens, but for a moment all I could think of was to keep hold of Lucy¡¯s hand and make sure I wasn¡¯t trampled as we funneled into a smaller corridor. I lost track of time as I worked to keep Daniel ahead of me and keep Lucy on her feet. It was hard to breathe as we were squeezed together, and I couldn¡¯t hear myself think over the wails and screams and the fresh scent of piss. My heart felt like it was going to burst when we came across a huge sign. A stick figure in a home, the yellow-black fallout symbol on one side, the green-black jagged and bug-like Antithesis warning symbol on the other. We were squeezed in, all of us pushing into a tight doorway that opened up into a large room. I knew what incursion shelters were supposed to look like. There had been shit cartoons about them on TV since before I was born, and I could remember there being one in my elementary school. The room we were in was... not a shelter. There was the reinforced walls, and the little cubicle to the sides where beds and waiting areas should have been, but that was it. ¡°Where¡¯s the door?¡± someone screamed. I turned and looked to the entrance. The large reinforced door was... not there. This wasn¡¯t a shelter, it was a dead-end. But it had to be reinforced, and it was a better place to wait than elsewhere. I moved to the side--pulling a dishevelled Daniel who had his hands pressed over a no doubt bruised eye, and Lucy who had lost a crutch along the way--with me until we were out of the way of the surging crowd of kids and caretakers. There had been more people in the museum than I had though. Maybe a hundred in all. The shelter could support that many, I guessed. Or it could have, were it finished. ¡°Are you okay?¡± I asked Lucy. ¡°Just peachy,¡± Daniel said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking to you,¡± I shot back. He gave me the finger, but it was with a nervous chuckle. The bit of levity helped, it made things normal. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Lucy said. She looked a little shaken, but looked fine otherwise. ¡°Check on the kittens.¡± The kittens, right. I pulled my friends closer to the side where they would be a little out of the way. The stream of humanity from the shelter¡¯s entrance had slowed down to a mere trickle now. Androids were stationing themselves around the room, spouting pleasantries and bullshit to keep folks calm, not that any of it could be heard over the crying. I took a deep breath. ¡°Kittens!¡± I shouted. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Eyes turned my way, and I probably looked like a fool. ¡°Kittens! To me!¡± The twins rushed over, then it was Nemo and Nose, Bargain and Tim. I shoved them towards Lucy who welcomed them with hugs and smiles and lies to keep them calm. I counted heads. ¡°Spark and Junior are missing,¡± I said before returning to the middle of the room. ¡°Kittens! Spark, Junior?!¡± ¡°Miss Leblanc, your voice¡¯s current decibel level is above the recommended amount, please lower you--¡± Bitchbot said as she rolled over to me. ¡°Over there,¡± I said. ¡°The kids are there.¡± ¡°I am in the process of giving you a disciplinary reprimand,¡± the android continued. I resisted the urge to swear at the android. ¡°One of the kids is breaking, uh, a museum exhibit,¡± I said. The android paused, its one robotic eye focused and unfocused. ¡°That is a priority issue,¡± it said before rolling off. Something grabbing my side had me spinning around so fast I almost fell. I came face to face with Spark, the little brat looking at me with wide, nearly-panicked eyes. ¡°Cat,¡± he said. ¡°Cat, Junior, she fell.¡± He pointed to the shelter¡¯s exit. I froze. The kittens were my responsibility, and maybe Junior was around already. She was just the type to hide at a moment like this to piss me off. And yet, would she really do that? I had to tell someone. A look around the room showed adults dealing with the panic by staring at their phones, or by staring off with glazed-over eyes, a sure sign they had sunk into their eyegear. They wouldn¡¯t be useful. The androids were right out. It was up to me, or Lucy, or Daniel. That wasn¡¯t the best. ¡°Oh, okay, Spark. Listen, tell Lucy that I¡¯m going to go get Junior, okay?¡± I asked. The brat nodded and ran off to the others. I moved towards the exit. I would find Junior, and I would drag her back by an ear if I had to. The floor skipped out from under me. I joined the others in screaming as everything shook. The lights flickered. One of the reinforced panels along a wall buckled and fell off, revealing it to be no thicker than paper. ¡°Fuck,¡± I said. The lights came back, bathing the room in red. Something crackled and a voice, too calm to be real, filled the air. ¡°Incursion detected in this building. Please seal the shelter door and await further instructions and slash or rescue.¡± I think we all--or at least those that had understood--looked to the place where the door should have been. There were over a dozen floors below the museum. The aliens could be on any one of those. I heard distant rumbles and could just imagine the city being wrecked from above by alien hordes. I had seen the vids of Antithesis swarms hitting a city, it was never pretty, and this one looked big. I shook my head. That was someone else¡¯s problem. I had to protect the kittens. Pushing myself forwards, I shuffled out of the shelter. Everything told me to go back. It wasn¡¯t sane to walk out into the open when there were monsters lurking around every corner. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to stop being such a moron. Once I had found Junior, everything would be alright. The corridors back to the museum proper were a lot longer than I remembered. I crossed a couple of kids who ran by, a few adults herding them along while looking over their shoulders. The farther along I got, the fewer people I crossed. Then I was on the main floor and my eyes were dragged to the ceiling above, or where the ceiling had been. A hole large enough to park a bus in was missing from the far end, bits of metal and concrete crushed that entire corner of the museum. And in that hole, hanging off the side like shit clinging to the side of a toilette hole, was a large pod of fleshy goop. I slapped a hand over my mouth. Something moved out of the fleshy mess. My eye locked onto a large form that flopped out of the destroyed pod and crashed atop a display. It was the size of one of those dogs, the sort macho idiots used to scare people away, but furless and black. I didn¡¯t get to stare for long as it rolled off the display it had fallen on and disappeared from my line of sight. Had there only been the one? The pod looked big enough to hold dozens, but it was partially crushed. ¡°Cat?¡± I looked over to where I had heard my name. There, some dozen meters away, pinned under the fallen wall of a display that had held some sort of clothes, was Junior. The girl was struggling to lift the display, but she was pinned. I... I wanted to run away. There were literal man-eating monsters in the room. I took a step back. ¡°Cat?¡± Junior called out. She had to have seen the pod too. And with the noise she was making. Could they even hear? My legs shook. My breath caught, acid burning at the back of my throat. I ran. My knees crashed onto the ground next to Junior. ¡°Pull it off,¡± Junior said. ¡°Shut up,¡± I said. ¡°Be quiet. Did you see how many there were?¡± ¡°Can I answer or do you want me to stay quiet?¡± she snarked. It wasn¡¯t the time for it. I think something about my expression told her as much. ¡°I saw six,¡± she said. That was... six more than I could handle. I pushed the thought aside, grabbed the edge of the display and lifted. It was just some thick padding with metal rails around it, but it was large and a bitch to pick up with only one arm. Worse, lifting it made some of the things atop it fall off. Junior shifted underneath, wincing as she pushed up. She slipped out, on show staying behind. Face red, I lowered the display. ¡°Okay, now we need to...¡± Junior was looking past me. I turned. The monster was standing ten paces behind me. Chapter Four - Pole Dancing Chapter Four - Pole Dancing ¡°After forty-eight hours, the Ohio incursion started to build a hive of sorts. The first Antithesis hive on Earth. Reports from drone reconnaissance and refugees evacuating the area allowed the combined armed forces to create dossiers of the various models of aliens discovered. [...] ¡°The Model-Three is small, quadrupedal, and perhaps one of the weakest Antithesis models. It is also one of the most lethal to the unprepared civilian. They are fast and agile, able to sneak into tight areas and fight well as a pack. On a larger battlefield, they serve as hunter-killers and use flanking maneuvers to slip around defensive formations. ¡°Armed forces threat rating: 3 Vanguard threat rating: 0.1¡± --Excerpt. 2023 Combined North American Armed Forces Manual: ANTITHESIS CLASSIFICATIONS *** I grabbed onto Junior¡¯s hand, ready to pull her as I ran. The monster, the dog-sized Antithesis, made a snuffling sound, like a plastic bag caught in a vacuum cleaner¡¯s tube, shifted its head one way then the other, and started walking towards the corridor where the shelter was hidden. That was our chance. I yanked Junior after me and ran to the nearest display, then around a corner where we could hide behind a row of large metal pillars that stopped just short of waist height. I thought, for just a moment that we were safe. Then the pillar next to me started to talk. ¡°The first samurai, at the time named the ¡®vanguard,¡¯ appeared in North America during the simultaneous battles for Washington and the Ohio mass-incursion.¡± My heart stopped for a moment, and I felt Junior going taut next to me. Slowly, so slowly, I tipped forwards until I could see around the corner of the plinth. The Antithesis monster had been joined by two more. They were low to the ground, heads staring at the scuff marks on the faux-marble flooring, then back up to the corridor. The corridor with the shelter. It all clicked in a single moment of clarity that had me wanting to vomit. They would go down that passageway. They would find the others. All the kids, stuck in a room with only one exit, and exit blocked by those things. ¡°Shit,¡± I breathed out. My grip tightened on Junior¡¯s hand. There was one solution. ¡°Junior,¡± I whispered. ¡°Look at me.¡± She looked, eyes wide and devoid of that characteristic bite I was so used to. ¡°Okay. Okay. I need you to run over to the others. They¡¯re near the shelter, alright? You need to tell them to get the fuck out of there. There were stairs, leading down. Just, just get them out of there, alright?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going down there, are you fucking mad?¡± she whispered back. I licked my lips. ¡°I¡¯ll distract them. You run. Tell the other kittens, okay?¡± Her mouth shut with a click. She eyed me up and down. ¡°Fucking hardcore, cat.¡± ¡°Fuck off,¡± I said with a bit of a smile. ¡°Just run when they¡¯re after me, yeah?¡± ¡°Yeah, I can, I can do that.¡±She swallowed, then reached into her back pocket and brought something small and flat out. A flick of her thumb revealed a three centimeter blade. I looked like it had been made with tape and some bits of a box-cutter. ¡°Take it.¡± ¡°Seriously?¡± I asked. ¡°The hell were you thinking bringing that to a place like this?¡± ¡°I was thinking there might be a fucking alien invasion,¡± the girl whispered back. I grudgingly nodded. It was a fair point. I took the knife and slid it into a pocket. I got ready for the next part. Then I spent a few more seconds psyching myself up... then a few more. The monsters started to stalk forwards. Standing up, I stuffed the knife into a pocket and walked out from behind my cover. My hand trembled by my side, my legs felt like they were jelly, and I had a serious urge to go take a piss. ¡°He--¡± I started. My voice cracked. Licking my lips, I looked around, saw a display with some plastic replica of some samurai¡¯s helmet, grabbed it off its shelf, and flung it at the aliens. The helmet crashed to the ground between them and rolled past. Two heads turned my way, their eyes, both one above the other, fixed onto me. They didn¡¯t growl. I don¡¯t know why I expected them too. That was something the aliens did in the cartoons before the heroic samurai or corporate cop tore it apart. But everyone knew that they were supposed to be eerily quiet. The moment one of them took a step towards me I ran. Claws scrapped on the floor behind me, a click-click beat that quickly cut the distance apart. I saw Junior¡¯s wide-eyes from the corner of my eyes. ¡°Go!¡± I shouted before spinning around a corner. The monsters stayed at my back like cats after a rat. I... I kind of knew that I was going to die. It wasn¡¯t how I expected to go out. At least I¡¯d done a little to buy the others some time. My eye caught onto something red ahead, stuck to the side of a pillar. A fire extinguisher, right next to a roped-off display of a scale-model Antithesis hive. I reached out, grabbed the quick-release in front of the extinguisher, and tore it off. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. I could feel the beast right behind me. My hand wrapped around the handle of the extinguisher and I spun around.

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I blinked away the warning. I had bigger shit to worry about. One of the aliens was right on me, triple-hinged jaws opened wide. I shoved the extinguisher into its mouth. Jaw muscles as big around as my bicep squeezed the bright-red container with enough force that the metal squealed. I shielded my eyes with my arm a moment before the extinguisher exploded. The alien made a deep, rasping noise as expanding white foam filled its mouth. It twisted this way and that, finally bumping into the other alien with a wild swing of its head. Foam continued to pour out of the extinguisher, hardening as it puddled around. I didn¡¯t have time to watch, not when there was a second monster just there. Spinning around, I started to run again, eyes scanning everything for any sort of weapon. The guns and swords in display cases along the far wall teased me, but I knew they had to be replicas. Then I saw a rope barrier, a dozen gleaming chrome poles holding up a thick velvet rope. My eyes locked on the pole. It wasn¡¯t one of those plain ones, with a ball atop it. No, this was some sort of artsy thing, more a stainless-steel toothpick than a pole. Feet skidding across the floor, I came to a spinning stop next to the barrier, tore the rope off the top and, with a foot on the base to keep it in place, yanked it out of its slot. I turned with the pole held out before me just as the second alien jumped at me. I screamed, part fright, part anger, and held the pole out before me. The metal tip poked into the beast¡¯s eyes. It was too late for it to stop. That didn¡¯t mean that its hundreds of kilos of weight just stopped either. The pole slid back along my hand until it punched me in the gut. Then the alien¡¯s weight came down on top of me, sending us both the ground. Something had to give. The pole punched into my lower ribs with enough force that I lost what little air was left in my lungs. In that moment, before the pain hit, I got to watch the pole sink a foot into the alien¡¯s head. Then my world focused, every ounce of my body¡¯s attention concentrated on the side where I felt metal parting skin and sliding into me. The pole scraped against the bones in my ribcage, the muscles there screamed in protest. I gasped, my breathing choppy and uneven as every intake of air sent a wave of nausea up my side. No pain. Nothing but the weird feeling in my gut. Confusion sank away as an ache, then a roaring fire of agony spread out from the hole in my chest. It wasn¡¯t the worst pain I had ever felt, but it was certainly up there. I looked up to the alien impaled on the same pole I was, almost hoping that it was alive so that it could put me out of my misery. The pole poked into its large lower eye and was left jammed somewhere in its scaly skull. It was very dead. ¡°Well, fuck you too,¡± I said. I pressed my hand down, tears stinging my eye and a fuzzy burning filling the socket where my right eye had been. It was nothing compared to the weird sensation of the pole moving in my chest. Shifting to the side, I pushed the monster off of me and whimpered as it made the pole twist in my gut. There was a lot of blood. ¡°Oh, shit,¡± I said. I had to get up, to go see the kitten to... I coughed. I was done for, but I didn¡¯t want to be, not yet. The world went dark. My head pounded. Then, light, and a searing that I felt pushing into the back of my head as if someone were prodding me with a hot-poker. My legs kicked out and the pole shifted again. The only reason I didn¡¯t scream was the pain in my ribs. The pain stopped. System Initialized! Congratulations. Through your actions you have proven yourself worthy of becoming one of the Vanguard, a defender of humanity. I am Myalis. I will assist you to uplift humanity so that you may defend your homeworld from the Antithesis threat! Rise, Catherine Leblanc, and become a protector of the weak! ¡°What?¡± I asked. The voice had come from... nowhere. Oh you poor thing. You seem to be suffering from a whole host of medical issues. It seems as though you still have some minutes left to live. Let¡¯s make the best out of them, shall we? Chapter Five - Dying is For Other People Chapter Five - Dying is For Other People ¡°Point. Buy. ¡°Kill some xenos, fill your supply! ¡°Bam, bam, the counter¡¯s a trap ¡°Click clack, new gear in you lap ¡°Rince, repeat, climb so high!¡± -- Lyrical extract from ¡®Point. Buy.¡¯ Gun and Done¡¯s best selling rap single of 2043 *** At some point, I started to hyperventilate. It wasn¡¯t exactly pleasant to be breathing so hard while bleeding out, but I managed it anyway. Now now, no need to panic. You¡¯re dying already. Hyperventilating will only worsen your situation. ¡°What, where are you?¡± I asked. My head came up and I looked around. I still had a pole sticking out of my chest, the grotesque sight too much for me at that moment, so I stared around the open museum and tried to make sense of things. Come now, blood loss is no excuse not to put two and two together. I let my head fall back. ¡°I¡¯m a samurai?¡± I asked. It was silly, dumb. The kind of thing that kids everywhere dreamed of. The sort of thing that didn¡¯t happen to someone like me. Yes. You are, at least for now. In twenty minutes you will not be one. ¡°Why?¡± I asked. Was the voice actually speaking out loud? I couldn¡¯t tell where it came from. Maybe that was the pain talking, of the rushing noise of blood in my ears. In approximately six minutes blood loss and trauma will lead you to losing consciousness. The pole cut into your liver and gallbladder and is bleeding quite profusely. A glance at the blood pooling around the pole said as much. ¡°Yeah?¡± I asked. Assuming that no action is taken, two minutes after that you will begin to experience cardiac arrest, then total body failure and eventually death. Well, I say experience, but you won¡¯t be able to feel any of that. I swallowed. ¡°I¡¯m dying,¡± I said past the haze of pain. You are. Now let¡¯s fix that, shall we? I could worry about hearing voices later. ¡°What do I do?¡± I asked. Turn to your side, throw off the weight pinning you down. I cursed, tears welling up in my eye as I shifted to the side, legs kicking out to try and get some sort of leverage. The alien above me fell to the side, dragging the pole with it. A scream was torn out of me as the pole, still stuck in my chest, shifted with the motion. Well done! Though you did make a mess of your internals there. No worries. I sniffled, feeling like one of the kids that I was meant to be caring for instead of the woman I was. ¡°N-now what?¡± You currently have twenty points available to you from killing those two Model Threes, as well as the initial one hundred points freely granted to new Vanguards. Let me suggest a purchase! My vision swam for a moment before resolving into an image of a sort of thick syringe hovering before me. This is a WoundStop. A device available to anyone with Class I Medical Utilities unlocked. Unlocking the Class would cost you fifty points. The Woundstopper would cost you five points. ¡°It hurts,¡± I whispered. Please accept the purchase. We don¡¯t want you dying on us. I could barely string two thoughts together, but I decided to trust the AI, to trust Myalis, anyway. ¡°Okay, please.¡± Well done! Class I Medical Utilities unlocked! Points reduced to... 70 Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.New Purchase: Class I WoundStop Points reduced to... 65 A box appeared next to me. No fanfare, no lightshow, Just a bloody floor, my red mixing with the alien¡¯s green, then a box. Plastic, shaped roughly like a syringe. It looked cheap, like the kind of off-brand kitchenware they used at the orphanage. Wonderful! We will need to remove that pole. And by we, I mean you. Careful now, your clock is ticking already. I placed my hand flat on the ground next to me, leaving a red imprint on the faux-marble, then I pushed myself back. The sensation of metal moving out of my guts reminded me of being poked by a needle, only an order of magnitude worse. The pole clunked to the ground. I bent over double and vomited into a growing crimson puddle. Good. You¡¯ve removed the one thing preventing you from bleeding out... more. You now have a very short amount of time to live and act, so let¡¯s hurry this up, shall we? My reply was a choked off whimper. Please open the case and apply the WoundStop to your injury. My hand shook as I reached for the box. The top came off easily, revealing a tube as big around as a water bottle with a tip like a turkey baster at the end. I took it, thumb easily slotting into the button at the top. ¡°In the wound?¡± I asked. Exactly! I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t need the instructional video. You would die before it ended. I shoved the WoundStop into the hole with a whimper. The button sank in. For a moment it felt as if someone was pouring sand into me. I hissed, legs kicking out. Then the pain faded away. I breathed in, then out. I was still coming up a little short on air, but the pain was gone, all gone. I tilted my head up and rubbed the blood off of the hole in my shirt. There was now an off-white plug over the place where I¡¯d been stabbed. It felt like rubbery plastic. ¡°What?¡± That will keep you going for some time. Your liver is going to need to be replaced. Your gallbladder too, but that¡¯s a little less urgent. Oh, and you lost a lot of your blood. The WoundStop will keep you alive for a while. ¡°What the fuck,¡± I said. ¡°What the fuck?¡± I asked. You must have questions. I¡¯m afraid they might have to wait. If you don¡¯t accrue more points then you will be unable to purchase new organs. I stood up, my legs wobbly under me. Next to me was an alien with a foot of metal in its head. A few meters away was another, equally horrid beast, with foam still slowly pouring out of its mouth. ¡°There were six,¡± I said. ¡°I... I have to get to the others.¡± I took a step that turned into a weak stumble. I ended up hanging onto a dividing wall to stay on my feet. That¡¯s the right attitude! Unfortunately, you are unlikely to be able to do much against even a single additional Model Three. I took a few quick, short breaths. ¡°I¡¯m a samurai, yeah?¡± I asked. It sounded stupid to even say it. Worse, I felt like I was talking to myself. You are indeed, now a samurai. ¡°Then I should be able to fight them, right?¡± Samurai were supposed to be tough, nearly god-like. The entire damned museum celebrated them. Doubtful. Though the attitude is great. If you do want to fight them, I might have a few suggestions to make. ¡°I can buy things, right?¡± I asked. That¡¯s how it worked, everyone knew that. Indeed. Now, let¡¯s see what kind of weapons you can afford that might allow you to obtain some more points! Chapter Six - Pill Pusher Chapter Six - Pill Pusher ¡°They give you toys. Yeah, I know what you¡¯re thinking. ¡®Jackal, you have a handcannon that can disintegrate tanks. That¡¯s not a toy!¡¯ And you¡¯re right. It isn¡¯t. But that¡¯s not how it feels. You do a thing, you get a reward, you get a bigger toy. It¡¯s a cycle, and your little AI buddy doesn¡¯t even hide it. Damned useful though. And we do get to play with the best toys.¡± -- Interview with Marie ¡®The Jackal¡¯ Hunt. April 2051 *** My world was still spinning a little. It made walking quietly hard. It was still worth the effort to try, even after all the noise I made earlier. Some miracle had prevented the other aliens, the Model Threes, from coming around to have some Cat for lunch, but I didn¡¯t want to push my luck. My luck was... I didn¡¯t know. I was a Samurai. It was enough that I wanted to laugh. I had laughed at the idea, way back when me and Lucy were younger and still had some optimism left in us. We had talked about what it would be like to be one of the elite, to fly around and kill aliens by the thousands. And she... ¡°I need to get to the others,¡± I whispered. How long had I been back there bleeding out? I¡¯d lost track of time at some point. My HUD¡¯s clock gave me the hour, but I hadn¡¯t been paying attention before. ¡°Fuck, I need to move,¡± I said. You lost a somewhat substantial amount of blood. I advise caution before entering another fight. ¡°Fuck caution, the kittens, they... I need to help them.¡± An admirable sentiment! In your current condition you would successfully distract a Model Three for approximately twelve to thirty seconds. I stumbled to a stop. It was right. I wasn¡¯t in any condition to fight. But, but still. I started stumbling ahead again. ¡°Then fix me,¡± I growled. You could purchase some tools to alleviate that with Class I Medical Utilities. Two solutions seem prominent. A Class I Nano-Regenerative Suite. At fifteen points this utility would allow you to begin restoring some of your damaged internals. Hemo-Restore is a five point liquid utility that you consume orally. It replenishes up to a quart of blood naturally in the space of approximately two hours. ¡°That¡¯s how it works, huh?¡± I asked. I¡¯d heard some things about how Samurai got their awesome powers, their incredible weapons and tools. Everyone had. Still, I trusted the information I¡¯d skimmed off the net about as much as I trusted my own ability to run a marathon just then. Essentially, yes. Upon unlocking a Class Catalogue you can purchase any of the items available in that speciality. Prices are constantly adjusted. ¡°Yeah, cool,¡± I said. I stopped by a cement pillar and just leaned against it for a moment to catch my breath. I wasn¡¯t hurting, in fact, my body felt like it should have been light. The reality was that every motion took some effort, just like moving underwater the few times the orphanage had brought us to places with swimming pools. ¡°I need something that¡¯ll let me, uh, fight.¡± Fighting wasn¡¯t something I was used to, not at the best of times. It was frowned upon at the orphanage, for obvious reasons, and it just wasn¡¯t something I liked. Not that I hadn¡¯t been in a scrap or two, but being the one-eyed one-armed girl usually meant that any fight ended in someone else¡¯s favour. I can suggest a panoply of weapons and tools that you could use to defend yourself. Unfortunately, at your current point disposition, most of the better solutions are outside of your reach. ¡°Story of my life,¡± I said. There is one solution. You have sixty-five points remaining. Using fifty you can unlock a Class I tech tree that will provide you with the ability to purchase a Class I weapon. I suggest Kinetic Handguns or Simple Melee. That will leave you with fifteen points. Spending ten of these would provide you with a very basic weapon. Your final points can be spent on a combat stim. I licked dried lips and shoved off the pillar I¡¯d been using as a crutch. ¡°What¡¯s a combat stim? No, don¡¯t answer that. I¡¯m not an idiot. I mean... what sort?¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Based on your current situation... Mind Krank Ultra. A highly addictive, habit forming, lightly poisonous drug available for five points. I paused in my slow shuffling walk. ¡°You¡¯re not making that sound appealing.¡± For five points you could also later purchase Cleanse. A nanite-infused neuro cleaning agent that would remove any damages caused by the previous drug. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s that... Mind Krank shit do?¡± It will make you feel invincible, heighten your senses, improve your perception of time, vastly enhance your reflexes, and will increase your pain and fatigue tolerance. Humans who used this drug have gone on to fight for upwards of thirty-two hours without pause, or until their cardiac system gives out. ¡°Are you bugging me? That shit sounds dangerous.¡± You have lost contact with the Model Threes in the surroundings. The likelihood that they have reached the people you wish to protect increases every passing moment. I worked my jaw. The damned thing was right. How long had it been since I¡¯d seen the others? Two minutes? No, longer. Ten? They could all be long dead. Maybe they were lucky, there were only four of the monsters, and a lot of kids. Those were shit odds. I heard a faint, distant scream that was barely an echo across the open museum floor. It was a scream that had to compete with the wind humming past the new hole in the ceiling and the half dozen displays that had little repeating voice-overs. Still, I heard it. I felt a chill run down my spine. ¡°Damn it,¡± I swore. ¡°Do it, give me... give me whatever.¡± As you wish. Do you have any preferences in terms of weaponry? Did I want to be up close to the aliens or did I want to shoot them from afar? Stupid question. ¡°Guns, give me a gun.¡± I¡¯d never shot a gun, but we had toys, and I¡¯d played a sim or two in my time. Point towards baddie, pull trigger. Easy. Then I suggest Kinetic Handguns Class I. ¡°Sure!¡± I said in a hurry. The need to do something, to move, was growing, gnawing at me. Class I Kinetic Handguns unlocked! Points reduced to... 15 Well done. Now... as for a weapon. ¡°Just anything!¡± I said. As you wish. I will pick something best suited to your situation from the current catalogue. There are only eight hundred weapons available at your current price point. This is a Hummingbird Mark I-D. I felt something pushing at my hand. When I raised it palm-up a gun dropped from out of thin air. Not a proper gun. This looked more like a toy. The barrel was a large square with three dozen needles poking out of the end. The handle was barely curved back at all, and the trigger was more of a squared button than anything. The case looked like brushed aluminium, which didn¡¯t fit with the heft of the thing at all. New Purchase: Hummingbird Mark I-D Points reduced to... 5 ¡°How do I--¡± I began, only for my vision to go wild for a moment as my eyegear refreshed. I soon had a large circle floating off to the side. It didn¡¯t take much experimentation to see that it followed wherever I was pointing the gun. Aim at a target, wait for the reticule to go red, pull the trigger. So simple a child could use it. The Hummingbird¡¯s target lock will do most of the work. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°The... the drug?¡± Arriving. Please look down. New Purchase: Mind Krank Ultra Points reduced to... 0 A box appeared by my feet. No bigger than a matchbox, square, made of some cheap plastic. I bent down, almost lost my balance as my head swam, but managed to open it. A single bright red pill sat on a gauze cushion. ¡°Damn,¡± I muttered. I placed the Hummingbird down, took the pill and just stared at it for a moment. Another scream came from the distance. I tossed the pill back. The world burst into clarity. Chapter Seven - Hummingbird Chapter Seven - Hummingbird INT. LIVE STUDIO CRAZY CLIVE adjusts his suit and turns his chair so that he faces the camera. The Applause from the audience dies down. CRAZY CLIVE (Manically) Today, we¡¯re talking aliens. Oohhh yes boys and girls and others. We¡¯ve all seen what the bastards look like. We wish they were little green men, but no, the aliens killing us are big green monsters. But killing you isn¡¯t the worst. Hah! You just wait! We¡¯ll be showing you exclusive footage of what happens once the bastards are done snapping you pretty little necks! Right after these ads by today¡¯s sponsors.... AdamsCorp! The camera pans away from CRAZY CLIVE who grins back at it. Audience applause, cheers. -- REDACTED Episode of Crazy Clive¡¯s Truth Talk. September 2027. *** I ran. No, I didn¡¯t just run, I sprinted. It felt as if I was as light as a feather, as if every gasping breath filled my lungs with a hundred times more air than I had ever had. Every nerve along my skin tingled, every scent I caught told a story, and every twitch of my eye showed me the world with an amount of detail I had never seen before. When Myalis had said that Mind Krank Ultra was addictive, I thought it had been chemically so. We¡¯d gotten our share of warnings about drugs at the orphanage--drugged up kids were harder to adopt and strained the orphanages insurance bills when they inevitably ODed--so I knew a bit about chemical addictions. This wasn¡¯t that. Or maybe it was. I didn¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t care. I pushed myself to run just a bit faster and the runner¡¯s high, even after only crossing half the museum, was nearly orgasmic. ¡°Oh, damn,¡± I said. I would advise some caution. As good as you may be feeling, the drug is mostly suppressing your body¡¯s reactions to your injuries. You are still in very poor health. ¡°Right, right,¡± I said. I heard screams again. Many of them, and from down the corridor where the shelter was. My shitty sneakers squeaked as they bit into the faux-marble floor and I shot ahead. My grip tightened around the hummingbird, finger hovering over the trigger. I was ready. I felt ready. I also felt as if I could punch a cement wall for an hour and still have energy to spare. The little intellectual bit still chugging away at the back of my mind was ringing alarm bells, telling me how stupidly dangerous this all was. Still, as much as I feared the drug I¡¯d already taken, it was too damned late to do anything about it, and right then I needed that boost. The corridor stretched out before me, long and, to my horror, bloody. Two things jumped out to me right away. The first, the body of one of the adults, mangled and ruined and left to rot off to one side. Even a dozen meters away I caught the scent of flesh and blood and shit. The second thing was the alien, the Model Three. It had been stalking ahead, blood dripping down its split jaws. Something, probably my damned shoes, had alerted it to my presence and it had turned halfway around to stare at me. I raised the Hummingbird. The reticle in my HUD janked upwards, I was able to actually see the framerate dropping as the crappy little computer in my gear tried to keep up with the way my arm sprang up. Then the reticule was on the alien. It turned red. I pulled the trigger. The bullets moved far too fast for me to see them. The thin trails of smoke they left behind, on the other hand, those were easy to follow even as they spun through the air. I winced a second after pulling the trigger as the loud humming of four projectiles going off echoed through the tight passageway. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. The Model Three slumped to the ground, four holes, no bigger than a disposable pen, buried in its head with blackened edges where they had entered. Target Eliminated! Reward... 10 Points ¡°What the hell kind of bullet was that?¡± I asked. The Hummingbird fires in a four-projectile burst. Each projectile--essentially a micro-missile--flies on a pre-calculated trajectory towards the target. Upon entering the target the remaining rocket fuel is spent burrowing through the target¡¯s skin. If any propellant still remains it is detonated along with the projectile¡¯s warhead. I stared at the boxy gun--was it really a gun?--and then towards the dead alien. I could live with it. I had thought that maybe being a Samurai was underwhelming, but if this was the kind of toy I could obtain for ten points, I could believe all the stories about the older, more experienced Samurai. The screaming grew louder, more panicked. I lowered the hummingbird to my side and picked up the pace, racing past the dead Model Three and towards the still-open vault. It was a nightmare made real. Three of the aliens were spread out across the room, one of them savaging a man on the ground, the other two corralling all the children and some of the adults towards the back of the room. Some of the kids had chairs and in one case a wet floor sign before them, as if that could fend off the monsters for more than a second. The Model Three finished snapping the neck of the man on the ground and raised a bloody head up towards the kids. I saw, with a level of clarity I didn¡¯t think possible with my one eye, the looks of despair growing on the faces of the children. Some--especially those wearing simple all-black uniforms with crosses over their chests--had their eyes closed and were murmuring prayers. Lucy was near the front, her crutched pointing out towards the beast, the kittens huddled behind her. Her gaze flickered up to me. ¡°Run!¡± she screamed. I raised the hummingbird. The monsters were between me and the kids. If any of those little missiles missed... Three reticles flashed red. I pulled the trigger, then again, and again. Twelve lines of vapour raced across the room, ending in the sides and backs of the Model Threes. Two fell, dead. The third roared and spun around, one leg dragging behind it. Four more flechettes punched into its chest and head. I even heard the distinct pops of the projectiles bursting apart inside the beasts head. Targets Eliminated! Reward... 30 Points Well done! I lowered the hummingbird and took in the still terrified gazes of all the kids. ¡°It¡¯ll be okay,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯ll be okay.¡± Humans saved: 32 Points added New total: 62 ¡°What?¡± I asked. Your role, as vanguard, is to fight and protect humanity. The ways to do this are many, but I¡¯m sure I can help you find a path that suits you. And, of course, your efforts will always be rewarded. ¡°Cat!¡± Lucy stumbled forwards, then started racing across the room on her crutches until she crashed into me as a crying bundle of shiny brown hair. ¡°You¡¯re okay?¡± she asked. ¡°Not really,¡± I grunted. I had to be careful hugging her while holding a weapon, but I did my best. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alive,¡± I said. If my voice caught a little, she didn¡¯t comment. *** Chapter Eight - Piss Poor Disguise Chapter Eight - Piss Poor Disguise ¡°Some of these people, they treat us like gods, like saints. And some of us, we allow it, encourage it. People need their hope, and sometimes that comes at the end of a katana. I don¡¯t know whether believing in the god among men is better than worshipping some uncaring bastard in the skies. I just know that neither option feels right.¡± -- The late Silver Hoop, 2035 *** We needed to regroup. I stared over Lucy¡¯s head at all the kids milling about. They were giving the dead aliens a wide berth. Some were staring blankly at the two bodies just... left there. I counted two more adults, a few teens that were close to my age. The kittens were all accounted for, at least. ¡°We need to find a way out of here,¡± I muttered into Lucy¡¯s hair as I held onto her. ¡°Can¡¯t we just stay, wait for help, for a samurai?¡± Lucy asked. I pulled back and smiled down at her. I wanted to tell her that things would be alright, but we weren¡¯t in the habit of lying to each other. ¡°We¡¯ll figure something out,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve got this thing, we can, uh, scout ahead for monsters, then escort the kittens... somewhere.¡± I waggled the hummingbird around. ¡°Where¡¯d you get that?¡± she asked. ¡°And what happened to your chest, you¡¯re all bloody. Are you injured?¡± ¡°I¡¯m... okay. It could¡¯ve been worse.¡± I looked around again. ¡°Junior? And the others. There were a lot more people here earlier. Bitchbot¡¯s not around either.¡± ¡°She, ah, she¡¯s crying somewhere. You know how she is about people seeing her like that,¡± Lucy said. ¡°And the others? They left. Said they didn¡¯t want to stay, that maybe there was a better shelter. I stay cause you were... you know. Um. I sent Bitchbot with them. She was being ah, herself.¡± She reached out, and our hands met. She squeezed mine and I squeezed back. Catherine, now that the most immediate threat has been removed, you might want to consider caring for your injuries. There are several options that would improve your situation immensely. ¡°Not now,¡± I said. ¡°Huh?¡± I shook my head and waved Lucy¡¯s concern off. A group was forming to one side, the remaining adults, some of the older kids. A pair of boys were dragging the corpses off to the side where they covered them with thin blankets they were pulling from a supply closet at the back. ¡°Wanna watch the kittens?¡± I asked. ¡°I think I should be with that group.¡± ¡°They should be okay,¡± Lucy said as she looked over to our brats. ¡°They¡¯re tough, tougher than those religious kids and the preppy ones. It only took a glance to see how the others were handling things. The religious kids were forming a little prayer circle. The preppy kids, all of them looking like they¡¯d come fresh out of some shitty daytime tv highschool were panicking, some of them on tablets, others tapping at the side of their temples as if that would help their gear connect. I couldn¡¯t imagine the net staying up with an invasion was ongoing. Compared to them, the kittens looked alright. Not great, but alright. Nose was picking his namesake, the twins were huddled together, Daniel was talking to some of the others with big gestures and a smile on. ¡°Yeah, alright,¡± I said. We moved over to the group, Lucy hanging off my side and dragging her crutched behind her one-handed. I pretended not to hear the squelsh as we stepped on something wet. ¡°We need to stay,¡± one of the adults was saying, some bald man that looked like a poster boy for one of those before and after commercials where the guy started as a wimpy office worker and ended up some sort of super model. ¡°Our protectors will come,¡± a girl said next to him. She was pretty enough, with long blonde hair and a face meant for smiling. As it was, she was frowning at the man across her, hands idly fiddling with a rosary of all things. It fit in with the ¡®almost a nun¡¯ uniform she had on. ¡°What¡¯s the sitch?¡± I asked. Four pairs of eyes turned to me. The girl, almost-baldy, a teacher-looking woman that was trembling and an older boy that looked like he could have been from our orphanage. ¡°You¡¯re the one that killed the monsters,¡± the nun girl said. ¡°Thank you. Our protectors look fondly upon those that protect themselves.¡± I raised an eyebrow at that. ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I said. ¡°I just happened to have the gun is all.¡± ¡°Are you certified to use that?¡± baldy asked. I blinked at him, then looked at the three dead aliens in the room. ¡°No. No I¡¯m not. Wanna do something about that? Maybe call the local sec forces?¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Don¡¯t be belligerent,¡± he said. ¡°Do go fuck yourself,¡± I said. Nun girl coughed. ¡°Please, both of you. It¡¯s not the time for this. We need to decide on what to do, and now. If we stay... I can lead the children in song and prayer while we wait, and if we go, then, then we need to decide where we¡¯re going.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think singing will help,¡± I said. I frowned. My words sounded a bit slurry. ¡°I... I¡¯ve only got twelve rounds left in this thing. It¡¯s a big room and...¡± I trailed off. ¡°Cat?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said. You are not. I¡¯m afraid that the blood loss was more substantial than I had initially predicted. Or, as is most likely, you opened up your wound while running. Your blood pressure and temperature readings suggest heavy internal bleeding. ¡°That¡¯s bad.¡± Indeed. You will soon lose consciousness. Might I suggest healing yourself? You have the points for it. ¡°Cat? Cat do you need to sit down?¡± Lucy said. The others were staring at me, especially baldy. ¡°Did she get bitten? Is she turning into one of those?¡± ¡°Do not be a fool, sir,¡± Nun-girl said. ¡°These monsters are not the sort that turns humans against their brethren. These were scouts, little more.¡± ¡°She could¡¯ve run into some model Sevens out there, we don¡¯t know,¡± Baldy said. I growled under my breath. ¡°It¡¯s bloodloss, you fuck. Myalis, options?¡± Two options are immediately viable. You could spend points to unlock the Minor Prosthetics Class I tree and then purchase an internal repair system. This will use your own body¡¯s celular reserves to heal you over time. ¡°Slow,¡± I said. ¡°What? Cat, what¡¯re you on about?¡± Lucy said. She tried to pull me back, but almost stumbled. The boy in our little group rushed over and held me up. It is indeed slow, but it would prevent this type of situation from occurring in the future. The second, faster option are the following two Medical Utilities. Class I Hemo-Restore. A compound that will replenish your blood supply in a manner of hours. And a Class I Nano-Regenerative Suite. The Nano-Regenerative Suite is expensive at 20 points, but will ensure your survival and swift recovery. ¡°What¡¯s all that gonna cost?¡± I muttered. I could feel Lucy right next to me, her concern radiating off of her in waves. 25 points. Better spent than lost if you die. ¡°I need privacy,¡± I told Lucy. The worse thing was that even though I could tell I was growing weaker, I still felt fine. ¡°I, I don¡¯t know. Does anyone here have medical training?¡± she asked the others. And then I crashed to my knees. ¡°Oh, shit,¡± I said. ¡°Cat!¡± ¡°Myalis,¡± I muttered. ¡°Now or never, yeah?¡± New Purchase: Nano-Regenerative Suite Points reduced to... 42 New Purchase: Hemo-Restore Points reduced to... 37 Two boxes appeared on the ground before me. Nun-girl gasped. I dropped my hummingbird and popped one of the boxes open. There was a tube within, crimson red with a sort of plastic stopper at one end. A yellow arrow pointed towards the stopper. Press it to your skin. I pushed it against the bit of skin I could see through my torn shirt. The red liquid in the syringe emptied into me in less than a second. I hadn¡¯t even felt it going. The syringe injected a series of tubes through your skin that connected with the nearest vein or artery and dumped the Hemo-Restore directly into your system. ¡°Hrm,¡± I said as I let go of the syringe. It had left three little red dimples on my skin, but they hardly showed under all the blood. The next box held a small device that looked like an asthma inhaler crossed with a rebreather. Place it in your mouth. Breath in. ¡°Simple,¡± I muttered. It felt like breathing a lungful of electric fire, tingles clawing their way down my throat, then through my lungs. I dropped the inhaler as soon as it dinged empty and coughed for all I was worth. Then the tingling started around my chest, like a limb that had gone asleep but all over the damned place. My missing eye twitched and my stump shifted. I¡¯m afraid the Nano-Regeneratives Suit is too weak to do anything for your missing members. A Class II suite would repair the missing limbs, but that is currently outside of your budget. I nodded, then looked up to see Lucy and the others all staring at me. ¡°Sorry ¡®bout that,¡± I said as I wiped a sleeve over my mouth. ¡°I was dying.¡± *** Chapter Nine - Saint Chapter Nine - Saint ¡°What the Antithesis do with the bodies of those they carry away is a matter of hot debate, debate that the few remaining governments try hard to suppress. It¡¯s a good thing that they¡¯re piss poor at that, isn¡¯t it?¡± --Random Internet Commentator, in the comments of live footage of an active Antithesis biofactory *** Nun girl was the first to react. She fell onto her knees and clasped her hands together over her chest. ¡°Forgive me, saint, I did not... I¡¯m sorry. Please forgive me,¡± she begs while bowing from the neck again and again like one of those little water-pecker bird toys The whole thing would have been a whole lot more awkward had I not also been on my knees. As it was, it was pretty damned weird. ¡°Hey, yeah, no, none of that. I¡¯m no saint.¡± Nun girl looked up, confusion warring with something like awe in her eyes. ¡°Are you not one of the vanguard?¡± she asked. I pressed a hand to my stomach, over the spot where I¡¯d been wounded. The WoundStop was leaking out in dribbles, the rubbery material melting away only for cool skin to replace it. It looked about as strange as it felt. ¡°I suppose,¡± I muttered. ¡°Shit, this feels fucky.¡± The NanoRegenerative treatment will bring you back to a much better condition, though you should nonetheless be careful about reopening injuries. Also, the likelihood of cancerous cells appearing in those areas has increased by an order of magnitude. ¡°What?¡± I hissed. I raised a hand. ¡°Not you guys,¡± I said as I gestured to the side of my head. ¡°The... voice in my... you know what, just pretend I¡¯m not saying anything, alright?¡± ¡°As you wish,¡± nun girl said. Baldy took a step back and looked ready to bolt. I don¡¯t know what got to him, the stuff appearing around me as if by magic, or the mention of voices in my head. Either way, he was trying to do the smart thing and piss off. Nun girl got up far faster than someone wearing such long skirts looked like they could, and grabbed baldy by the arm. ¡°You are staying here until the saint has dismissed you,¡± she said. Baldy didn¡¯t seem to like that, but I had bigger shit to worry about. ¡°What was that about cancer?¡± I asked Myalis. The worry is misplaced. By the time enough cancerous cells have grown for it to become a problem you will either be dead, or will have accumulated enough points that fixing the issue will be trivial. ¡°Cat?¡± I froze, then looked up to meet Lucy¡¯s bright blue eyes. They were a little teary, and her hands were held close to her chest as if she was expecting a blow at any moment. I imagined what it had to look like for her. I¡¯d gone for a bit, and when I returned I was... well, I was still me, but a me that was also supposedly in the one percent of the one percent. ¡°Lucy,¡± I said. ¡°You were dying?¡± she asked. It felt as if a balloon burst in my chest. No recriminations, no accusations, no sense of betrayal. She was just worried. ¡°I¡¯m okay now,¡± I said. ¡°I, ah, got stabbed, a bit.¡± ¡°But you¡¯re okay now?¡± she asked. ¡°Right as rain,¡± I said. ¡°¡®Cept for the cancer, but that¡¯s a side worry.¡± ¡°Cancer?¡± she hissed. I waved it off. ¡°It¡¯s all good. I have the godlike ability to buy my way out of any problems.¡± Grinning, I jumped to my feet, then swept her into a quick hug. I paused next to her head. ¡°And I can fix yours too,¡± I whispered. Lucy huffed and pushed me off. ¡°Not now,¡± she said. ¡°We have a lot of stuff to worry about besides me. The kittens...¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. I looked over the group that was meant to be taking care of all of those troubles. They were looking at me the same way. Damn. ¡°What do we do?¡± the teacher-type woman asked. I licked my lips. Even baldy was waiting for me to come up with something. I hadn¡¯t asked for that. Not that I¡¯d ask for stupid powers either. ¡°Right, right. We can¡¯t stay here. I don¡¯t think. Um. Myalis, can we stay here?¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. I cannot observe much beyond your own body and what your gear picks up, I¡¯m afraid. I can, on the other hand, model and simulate the likely movements of an Antithesis swarm. This one seems small. This will not remain so. If you are near to the epicentre of the landing, then your position will be overrun before nightfall as the Antithesis begins to search for biomass. By this time tomorrow this section of the city might be unlivable. ¡°Damn. Okay, we can¡¯t stay here. We need to leave. This building is connected to a few others. There might be ways to move out of the area on foot.¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± Nun girl said. ¡°I¡¯m registered with the church¡¯s bus. There are seats for twenty, we can fit more.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s it parked?¡± I asked. ¡°Outside?¡± She shook her head. ¡°Three floors down, ma¡¯am.¡± I suppressed the shiver running down my back. The girl was probably my age, maybe a bit older. She was dismissive a minute ago and, frankly, I preferred that to the awe she was looking at me with, as if I was going to fart out a bouquet of flowers and a cure to world hunger at the same time. ¡°Okay, okay, yeah,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s a good idea.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll kill any aliens we come across?¡± Baldy asked. I swallowed. Could I do that? ¡°I¡¯ll damned well try,¡± I said. I flipped my hummingbird around so that I was holding it by the barrel, then pushed it into the hands of the jock that had rushed to my side. ¡°Can you figure out how to link this to your gear?¡± I asked. ¡°Uh, yeah, sure,¡± he said. ¡°Good. Good. I¡¯m only one girl,¡± I said. ¡°But you¡¯re a saint,¡± Nun girl said. ¡°But I¡¯m still only the one. And there are a lot of you to look after.¡± They nodded along, as if I was spouting some wise shit instead of trying to let them down easy before I fucked up and some of them bit it. I just wanted to keep my friends, and the kittens, safe. Everything else was a nice bonus on top. ¡°I¡¯ll get the kittens ready to go,¡± Lucy said. She squeezed my hand twice, then walked off, her crutches clicking away. ¡°Right, okay. You guys get your groups ready to move. Nun girl, you¡¯re with me for a minute, alright?¡± The two adults and the jock nodded and ran off to do as I said. Nun girl came closer. ¡°Yes, saint... forgive me, I don¡¯t know your name.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Catherine. None of that saint shit. I appreciate the help, but I was never one for that late night TV Christianity stuff,¡± I said. She nodded. ¡°There¡¯s no need for a saint to concern herself over matters of faith. You were chosen, that is all that matters.¡± I blinked. The girl was... probably pretty normal for her sort, actually. ¡°Uh-huh. Look, I need to know where that bus of yours is. Directions to get there and all.¡± ¡°We took the elevator up from the parking lot,¡± she said. I winced. The power was flickering already. ¡°Was it big enough to fit all of us?¡± ¡°The elevator? No, I don¡¯t think so.¡± ¡°No splitting the party,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll take the stairs. Can some of your lot help those that can¡¯t do stairs?¡± ¡°It would be our pleasure,¡± she said. ¡°Cool, cool. Let¡¯s move out as soon as we can,¡± I said. ¡°And the bodies?¡± she asked. I paused. ¡°What about them?¡± ¡°If we don¡¯t burn them...¡± Then the aliens would use the meat. On the other hand. ¡°Two, maybe three more aliens around, versus ten minutes wasted. No, we¡¯re moving on.¡± ¡°As you wish, saint.¡± She turned to leave with a short bow. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s your name?¡± I asked. ¡°It is Marie, Saint Catherine,¡± she said. ¡°Thanks, Marie,¡± I said. ¡°And drop the saint thing.¡± The girl was kind of nice. Still a creep though. Chapter Ten - Done Dirt Cheap Chapter Ten - Done Dirt Cheap ¡°Samurai have catalogues for nearly everything. Some are more broad than others, while some focus almost entirely on a single narrow field. Those latter ones tend to be dangerous at higher classes. Still, there¡¯s a general rule of thumb; anything you can buy will work with human materials at lower classes. Guns will use standard ammunition, machines can be plugged into local wall outlets. It¡¯s convenient. This rule gets tossed out at higher levels, needing special ammunitions, power sources, and materials is common. Still, everything is always packaged in an easy-to-use way. The Protectors make the business of killing xenos fun and easy.¡± -- Excerpt from an AMA by ¡®Salamander Storm¡¯ *** It didn¡¯t take all that long for everyone to start getting ready to move. Say what you will about kids, when shit hit the fan, most of them were damned fast to adapt. I left the remaining adults and the older teens like Marie and Lucy to figure out how to get everyone moving. In the meantime, I stepped out and into the corridor. ¡°Myalis?¡± Yes? ¡°I¡¯ve got thirty-seven points, right?¡± I asked. ¡°I need something to defend myself, and the kids, with.¡± I see. There are two readily available solutions. Acquire a decently powerful weapon for yourself; this will allow you to take care of large sums of enemies on your own. Obtain a batch of weaker weapons for your allies. You can perhaps afford six very simple kinetic handguns from your Class I Kinetic Handguns catalogue. Every alien killed with one of these weapons, even if it''s not by your hand, will afford you a small number of points, perhaps even refunding the weapons over time. There is always the middle ground, a combination of the two. I looked around the entrance of the vault and took in the group. I wouldn¡¯t trust the kittens with a gun. But some of the older folk? Baldy was a bit of a wimp, but I bet he could pull a trigger, likewise for the teacher lady. ¡°What kind of guns do you have for cheap?¡± I asked. Might I suggest the Foxteeth Model D. Small, reliable, easy to aim and with semi-automatic action. Its magazine holds fifteen rounds of 9x19 parabellum. They come with a single magazine. Five points each. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Cool, yeah. Can they take out those,¡± I gestured to the corpse of the alien I¡¯d shot deeper in the corridor. A well-aimed shot can. Most smaller Antithesis models are surprisingly fragile. They rely more on numbers to overwhelm rather than individual strength. ¡°Is that going to be a problem?¡± I asked. As soon as the Antithesis have secured the area immediately around their landing site, they will begin to send out forces in droves. It will be a problem, yes. I would advise either obtaining equipment to fight off large numbers of adversaries, or leaving the area. ¡°Damn. Okay, I need a gun for myself. Something in the, uh, twenty point range, I guess. No point in saving anything if it¡¯s the choice between having something that can save me and not.¡± For twenty points, I would suggest the Trench Maker. It''s a heavy-duty universal feed handgun. You can load any standard ammunition between five and twelve millimeters. The barrel and chamber expands after scanning each individual round, allowing you to fire nearly any type of standard small-arms ammunition. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°That sounds a bit gimmicky,¡± I said. Not that I know shit about guns, really. It comes with an ensuite targeting system, an extra magazine of incendiary armour piercing rounds... and a laser pointer! I snorted. ¡°Sold. Do I get a holster with that?¡± I¡¯m afraid you would need Class I Simple Garments to obtain a suitable holster. The Trench Maker does have a comprehensive safety mechanism. ¡°Right, right, that¡¯s... for later. Clothes aren¡¯t a priority.¡± I sniffed, running a hand under my nose. A glance into the vault showed that they seemed ready to move. ¡°Right, let¡¯s do this. Give me two of those Fox guns, and that Trench Maker.¡± I said. New Purchase: Foxteeth Model D Points reduced to... 27 New Purchase: Foxteeth Model D Points reduced to... 22 New Purchase: Trench Maker Points reduced to... 7 Three boxes appeared at my feet. Two were relatively small, the third was rather larger, maybe a handspan and a half long. I flicked one of the smaller boxes opened and stared at the gun within. It was... a gun. Square, boxy, gun-like. I pulled it out of its case and twisted it this way and that. There was a switch on one side labelled safety, and another labelled sights. I flicked the latter and a pair of arms snapped out of the top. A hologram of three little red circles appeared in its centre. I hefted it. It was light, which felt about right for the quality of the thing. Flicking the sights switch again folded them away. ¡°Simple enough, I guess,¡± I muttered as I pushed the gun back into its case. The other gun was a work of art. Seven inches of chrome, with a barrel as thick around as my wrist that swept into an angular grip with a guard that would cover the user¡¯s entire hand. I carefully pulled the gun out of its box. It was hefty. Not heavy, exactly, but not light either. It fit into my hand like it was meant to be there. The gun is preloaded with 9x19 parabellum. My eyegear filled with a loading screen, and then a small element appeared in my HUD, the profile of a gun¡¯s magazine, each round with a label next to it. A hovering circle appeared wherever I pointed the Trench Maker, the word ¡®safety on¡¯ next to the reticule. ¡°Okay, yeah, worth it,¡± I said. ¡°Cat?¡± I turned to see Daniel rolling out of the room. ¡°You okay?¡± he asked. Then his eyes landed on the gun in my hand, and the two before me. ¡°Oh, shit, it¡¯s true?¡± he asked. ¡°What¡¯s true?¡± I asked right back. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve either been smuggling guns around without anyone noticing, or you¡¯re a samurai.¡± He grinned. ¡°This is pretty awesome, you know. ¡®Cept for the whole apocalypse thing. Could do without that. Hey, can I get one of those.¡± ¡°I¡¯m giving them to mature people,¡± I said as I slipped the Trench Maker in the back of my pants. The extra magazine in its box went into a pocket. ¡°That means anyone but you.¡± ¡°You wound me Cat,¡± he said. ¡°Uh... is it Miss Cat now? Lady Cat? Catmurai?¡± ¡°Try that last one again and I¡¯ll be testing my new toys on you,¡± I growled. I was putting on a show, but I was kind of glad that Daniel was still himself. ¡°You know I¡¯m always up for testing toys, but, ah, maybe I¡¯ll pass on those.¡± ¡°C¡¯mon, dumbass,¡± I said past my grin. I plopped the two Foxteeth onto his lap. ¡°You can help me hand those out to useful people.¡± *** Chapter Eleven - Like Santa, but With Guns Chapter Eleven - Like Santa, but With Guns ¡°People say that money can¡¯t solve every problem. ...Poor people. Poor people say that.¡± -- Golden Platinum Diamond, interview with Samulife Magazine, June 2034 *** ¡°Hey, baldy,¡± I said. The man turned, a frown on his face that disappeared the moment he recognized me. ¡°Yes?¡± he asked. He had a group of students behind him, all of them the preppy sort. At least most had put away their phones and had stopped fiddling with their eye-gear. ¡°You know how to shoot a gun?¡± I asked as I pulled Daniel to a stop. He nodded. ¡°I go to the range once a month,¡± he said. I blinked. I had been expecting him to say no, or to brush me off. ¡°Oh, uh, in that case.¡± I poked Daniel in the back and he handed a box to baldy. ¡°Have fun.¡± He eyed the box, then snapped it open and took the handgun out. ¡°You know how much these are worth?¡± he asked. ¡°Uh. Five points?¡± I replied. We¡¯d stalled long enough, the time for chit-chat was kind of drawing to an end. ¡°This is a Foxteeth, right?¡± At my nod he continued. ¡°Nearly two hundred thousand credits for one of these.¡± I looked down at the gun. Killing one Model Three allowed me to buy two. With two hundred thousand credits I could... buy a whole lot of toys with that kind of money. That was... I huffed and tried to refocus. Knowing how many cans of soda I could buy with one of those guns wasn¡¯t as useful as knowing that someone had my back. ¡°Cool, cool. Just, hit the aliens, not someone else, yeah?¡± He snorted and stuffed the gun into the back of his waistband. It didn¡¯t fit his sweater-vest and slacks look. ¡°I¡¯m no fool,¡± he said. I nodded and pushed Daniel further along. The little church group were gathering in neat rows by age, Marie at their head. ¡°Hey, nun girl,¡± I said. She turned and gave me a quick, shallow bow. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Know how to handle a gun?¡± I asked. ¡°I do,¡± she said. ¡°We train to be of better service to the saints who need our assistance.¡± Creepy, I decided. One more mark on her tally. ¡°Well, here¡¯s a gift. Nail any fucks that try to hurt the kids, alright?¡± Daniel grinned as he handed her the last box. ¡°Hey, maybe later you and I can uh, talk about religious epiphanies and conversion.¡± He waggled his eyebrows. The poor girl looked stuck between disgust and gratitude as she took the box with the gun and snapped it open. ¡°Thank you,¡± she finally said while pretending that Daniel didn¡¯t exist. I didn¡¯t blame her. ¡°Alright casanova,¡± I said as I pushed Daniel to the back of the room where Lucy and the kittens were waiting. ¡°Enough with the flirting, or I won¡¯t give you your own toys later.¡± ¡°How¡¯d you know my screen name?¡± he asked. I stared down at him until his face twisted into a shit-eating grin. ¡°Cat!¡± Lucy said as I got closer. ¡°We¡¯re all ready to leave.¡± She gestured to the kittens who all seemed okay. A few eyes were red-rimmed, and some of them looked a little shell shocked, but they were whole and in one piece. I was... pretty sure the orphanage¡¯s insurance didn¡¯t cover psychiatric help, but I was apparently on the fast track to being loaded, so that was a problem for some other time. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving then. We¡¯re going two, uh, maybe three levels down. There¡¯s a parking garage.¡± I made sure the kittens still looking my way met my eyes. ¡°If you get lost, find a corner to hole up in and listen for my voice, alright? I¡¯ll come for you, promise.¡± ¡°Is it true?¡± Nose asked. ¡°You¡¯re a Samurai?¡± ¡°Who the hell knows,¡± I said. ¡°Now you listen to Lucy or you¡¯ll have to deal with me, got it?¡± I got some nods, which was enough for me. I was turning back to Lucy when someone tugged at my sleeve. Junior was glaring at me, but it was without her usual heat. ¡°I want my knife back,¡± she said. ¡°Ah,¡± I said. I patted my pocket and found it empty. I couldn¡¯t even remember where I¡¯d lost that. ¡°Right, shit. I might have misplaced that.¡± ¡°Seriously, Cat?¡± she said. ¡°Just pop me a new one then.¡± I¡¯m afraid that creating a knife would require the Basic Melee Weaponry Class I tier, and a few points besides. ¡°I¡¯ll get you a knife later, promise.¡± She grinned, mean and ferocious. ¡°Yeah, I trust ya. Better be a fucking cool one too.¡± I ruffled her hair. ¡°Idiot,¡± I muttered. ¡°Lucy, you and the kittens take the middle, okay?¡± ¡°Right!¡± Lucy said. She pushed her crutches onto Daniel¡¯s lap and hung onto the back of his chair. ¡°We¡¯ll be right behind you.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. Rushing back to the entrance of the room, I got things organized as quickly as I could. The normal looking school kids in the front, the kittens behind them, then the preppy kids and Marie and her lot at the back. There were a lot of people to cover with just four guns. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s move,¡± I said. I took five steps before realizing that I needed Marie for directions. A bit of red-faced reshuffling later and the church group were at the front, the kittens behind them and the rest trailed the rear. We started down the corridor, away from the route leading back into the museum. I pulled my Trench Maker from behind my back and started walking with the gun pointing to the ground before me. I felt damned stupid, leading a bunch of too-quiet kids like some sort of b-rated action hero. We made decent time arriving at a stairwell that was unlocked; the flashing fire-exit sign above marking the path. The building rumbled a little, and even from where we were, deep within, I could make out faint explosions from outside. The aliens? The army? Some PMC coming around to save the day? The stairwell was clear, but it only led down one floor. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. ¡°You need to take a different staircase at every floor,¡± Marie explained. ¡°The building is shaped strangely.¡± ¡°And if this place was legit on fire? How would they expect people to get out in a panic?¡± Marie shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She licked her lips. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a bother, Saint Ca-- Cat. But the kids. They¡¯ll need to take a break at some point. Do you think we can afford it?¡± ¡°Like for the bathroom and for food?¡± I asked. I had to weigh the danger to the kids against making them comfortable while also getting everyone out in a timely fashion. Speed was important, but running into an ambush would fuck us all over. In the end, the opportunity to scout ahead won out. ¡°Yeah, alright,¡± I said. ¡°As soon as we find a safe place to stop.¡± *** Chapter Twelve - Vending Machines Chapter Twelve - Vending Machines ¡°Our only goals are to help our vanguard, and in doing so, help humanity!¡± -- Bleriot, AI companion of Three Swipes, in an interview with Cyberstar, January 2022 *** I glared at the vending machine. ¡°Are you serious?¡± I asked. Lucy shrugged. She had a crutch in one hand and the other was pressed against the machine before her. ¡°Look,¡± she said as she poked the screen next to the machine. She selected something from the top shelf, some sort of white-bread sandwich thing that was probably stale and stank of preservatives and yet still tasted stupidly okay. The screen flashed as soon as it finished connecting with her gear. TRANSACTION ACCEPTED! ¡°Okay?¡± I asked. TRANSACTION DENIED! The machine stayed quiet. Lucy shook her fist, it looked as if she was about to punch the damned thing, but she held herself back. It was probably for the best. The more expensive vending machines had hidden tear gas sprayers to piss off vandals and the like. ¡°It even took my credits!¡± Lucy said. I sighed. It was weird being more concerned about shitty sandwiches stuck in uncaring machines than the literal alien invasion going on, but there was little better to do. Marie had been right about the kids needing a break. It looked like every last one of them was lining up to take a piss while Marie and Baldy and that jock looking guy kept watch around the nearest corridors. ¡°Want me to try?¡± I asked. ¡°You got more credits than I do?¡± she asked. I shrugged a shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve got...¡± I frowned. ¡°About a grand? A bit less than that, in my account. That¡¯s enough for, uh.¡± I looked at the price of a sandwich and blanched. ¡°That¡¯s enough for one of those. Damn. You tried twice?¡± ¡°Three times,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Right,¡± I said. I stared at the ID logo set on the front of the machine and waited for my gear to finally clue in that I wanted something from it. I believe I will make encouraging you to upgrade some of your equipment a priority. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± I asked. Lucy blinked at me. ¡°Is it working?¡± ¡°Eventually,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m talking to Myalis. The, uh, Samurai AI thing living in my head.¡± Lucy beamed. ¡°Say hi for me!¡± Please return the greetings. ¡°She... it says hi,¡± I said. My eye gear finally pinged the vending machine. I poked at the floating images of buttons on the front plate, then watched the transaction connect on my end. The little counter I had for my credit account told me I¡¯d dropped 800CR on some shitty grub. TRANSACTION ACCEPTED! ¡°Hey, it wor--¡± TRANSACTION DENIED! I glared at the two words floating an inch off of a no-doubt expensive holographic display. ¡°That is not cool,¡± I said. I can help! ¡°You can help? How?¡± ¡°Myalis wants to help? Oh, and tell her that I think her name is pretty,¡± Lucy said. I glared at her, but it bounced off the barrier of her enthusiasm and did nothing. She was more excited about the whole brain-AI thing than I was. It didn¡¯t seem to be that big a deal. Samurai were... generally insane. Yeah, maybe I should have been a little more worried after all. Tell Lucy that her name is in the top percentile of attractive names. Also, I can assist you by contacting the machine¡¯s internals and liberating its contents. This is a free service! ¡°She said your name is ugly as sin,¡± I said. ¡°Aww, she¡¯s nice!¡± Lucy said. Then she reached up and pinched my cheek. ¡°But you¡¯re not. Don¡¯t lie for poor Myalis. She didn¡¯t deserve to be stuck in your head.¡± This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. I batted her hand away. ¡°Jerk,¡± I said. ¡°No you,¡± she shot right back. Shaking my head, I nodded to the machine. ¡°Have fun,¡± I said. ¡°And, uh, is hacking into things always a free service?¡± It is merely something I am capable of doing. Seeing as how my purpose is to assist you, it makes sense that I would help when I can. You can also not afford the far more nutritious foods available through my catalogues. Until then, this sort of sustenance will have to do. ¡°You¡¯re a gem,¡± I said. Technically, I¡¯m more of a hyper-dense carbon wafer. But I am somewhat gem-like, so I¡¯ll accept the compliment with the grace it was given. The vending machine whirled to life and started disgorging its entire contents out of the shoot at the bottom. I raised an eyebrow as more and more food piled up in the out tray. ¡°Oh shoot, it¡¯ll jam!¡± Lucy said before dropping to her knees to empty the machine. The other machines in the little nock, one filled with sodas, the other eighteen different flavours of tap water, all started vomiting bottles and cans. The kids that had finished up already rushed over with yells of delight. I was about to praise Myalis when the machine before me¡¯s screen flashed and the bored face of some thirty-something Asian man appeared. ¡°Please place all items from the defective machine to the side until a Chillmaster representative can repair the machine. Taking any items from this device would be theft, and will be punished with the full power of Chiimaster¡¯s legal and paralegal defence squad.¡± ¡°Is this thing live?¡± I asked. ¡°It is,¡± the man said. ¡°Are you the perpetrator of this crime? Please identify yourself for the record.¡± ¡°Yeah, no. You won¡¯t be getting any reps around here. Alien incursion and all. Should be on the news.¡± ¡°Even in times of great emergency, it is still a violation of our TOS to remove the contents of our machines without--¡± I glared at the machine and pulled out my Trench Master. What they said about hammers and nails meant that hitting things with your hammer worked some of the time, I figured. ¡°Is there a discount for pissed off Samurai?¡± I asked. ¡°Because I don''t know if anyone has invented a gun that can shoot people through cameras, but I''m willing to give it a try.¡± The man stared for a moment, then looked off to the side. The ¡®click clack¡¯ of a tactile keyboard came through for a moment before his eyes widened. ¡°Ah, please forgive Chillmaster corp, miss Samurai. Your intrusion software didn¡¯t announce itself as belonging to you. Please take the contents of this machine, and any other, as a free sample from Chillmaster, and please consider doing business with us in the future.¡± The image winked out. ¡°What?¡± I asked. ¡°Did you just scare that guy into giving us free stuff?¡± Lucy asked. It came out garbled on account of the sandwich she was still chewing on. I stared at my gun, then at the vending machine. ¡°I guess?¡± ¡°We should go shopping,¡± Lucy said. ¡°There¡¯s an apocalyptic alien invasion going on,¡± I said. ¡°You just don¡¯t like shopping,¡± Lucy shot back. ¡°Ask Myalis if she likes shopping.¡± I do. ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m... you make sure the kids are fed and stuff. I¡¯m going to go scout ahead. Like I should have been doing before someone asked for help getting a sandwich.¡± Lucy actually had the good grace to look ashamed, then she ruined it by gesturing my way with her sandwich as if it was a peace offering. The puppy-dog-eyes didn¡¯t help any. ¡°I¡¯m going before nun-girl tells me that I¡¯m bad at my new job.¡± I said as I turned around. I snatched a can of soda out of the hands of one of the nearest brats and stomped off. I cringed a few steps later. It was diet. *** Chapter Thirteen - Talking To Yourself Chapter Thirteen - Talking To Yourself ¡°The Protectors are doing humanity, and America, a favour. I¡¯m a big fan of these guys, always have been. I think aliens are real cool. It goes without saying that, based on the weaponry easily given to these so-called Vanguard, these extra-terrestrials could easily wipe out humanity. Big threat. Some people are going yap yap yap about it, but they¡¯ve got no proof that that¡¯s what these aliens want to do! It¡¯s lies! Fake. I think we should look at how many people they¡¯re saving--and it¡¯s a lot of people, and it bothers me that we didn¡¯t save them ourselves--but we will because these aliens are our friends. These aliens are saving so many lives. And with their help America is going to be so good.¡± -- excerpt from a brief given by the president of the former nation of the United States, January 2021 *** The sound my shoes on the steps sounded loud, far too loud. Even my breathing, calm and shallow as it was, felt as if it was echoing down the stairwell. There was no reason to be so nervous. I¡¯d look down between the rails already, the doors below were closed and I didn¡¯t think there was anything waiting for me. But I was alone, and in a building with some aliens that would like to do little more than eat me, and not in a fun way. The kittens and the others I¡¯d left behind, all of them waiting near the entrance to the stairs until I returned or an hour passed. It slowed us down, a lot, but it also meant that we wouldn¡¯t have an army of screaming kids to deal with if one alien rounded the corner. I licked my lips. ¡°Hey, you think you can do music or something?¡± I whispered. I¡¯m afraid not. I suppose I could hum? But I wasn¡¯t built to be musically talented. Is music something that interests you? ¡°No. Not really. I¡¯ll listen to a bit of everything, I mean, but I don¡¯t play any instruments or love any bands.¡± I said. I wasn¡¯t going to discuss teenaged band crushes with AI riding piggy-back in my head. ¡°So, uh, built, huh?¡± Are you trying to learn more about me? You are not terribly subtle about it if so. ¡°Yeah well, you¡¯re living in my head, yeah? Might as well.¡± I reached the bottom of the stairwell and came up to the door. It had a little rectangular glass in it, one covered by a mesh. I peeked through, taking in a quick glimpse of a grey-walled corridor with an exposed ceiling and cheap tile floors. No aliens, no humans, nothing of any real interest save for some posters on the walls and some hastily discarded trash on the floor. I¡¯m afraid there isn¡¯t much to say. I am a custom-built support AI. One of many given to the vanguards of humanity in order to assist you and prepare Earth for a full scale invasion of the Antithesis. I paused while reaching for the handle. ¡°Full scale? They¡¯ve been hitting us since... shit, way before I was born.¡± Those are scouting and probing attacks. Small, with the capability to become a full scale hive, but still relatively easy to excise. A single low-yield nuclear weapon could eliminate most of those sores. Humanity has done so before. A full-scale invasion would involve a force of Antithesis organisms outmassing your home world¡¯s moon. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°They didn¡¯t tell us that,¡± I said. I am not affiliated with any Earthly governments. What they find necessary to censor does not concern me or my brother and sister AI. I took a shallow breath. ¡°Yeah, great,¡± I said. I pulled the door open, planted my foot to keep it that way, then pulled my Trench Maker out from my back. Nothing jumped out of the shadows. I stepped in and started moving. The building had stairwells more or less behind each elevator bank, which meant crossing over half the floor to get to the next one. Fortunately, after this floor was a maintenance floor where the parking garage was located. If there weren¡¯t any aliens around, then we were home free. My makers, the Protectors, can assist humanity in repelling an Antithesis incursion. But the cost to our infrastructure would be great. Hence; uplift. ¡°You need soldiers,¡± I whispered. No. The numbers are in our favour. We could, and probably would, win against even the largest Antithesis fleet. The issue is logistical. If Earth is invaded once a year, then stationing a defensive fleet would be a necessity. That same fleet could be used elsewhere. If humanity learns to defend itself, fewer resources will be spent in your defence. The policy regarding primitive races was always to observe and protect. The Antithesis changed this. ¡°Aren¡¯t you just a bunch of saints,¡± I said. I don¡¯t think so. New cultures, ways of thinking, and even species are interesting, but that is all. Taking some humans and relocating them would be easier than protecting an underdeveloped world like Earth. But that would go against the moral code by which the Protectors live. That the weak must be protected. ¡°Weird code,¡± I said as I panned my vision over the ceiling. I didn¡¯t like all those pipes and the shadows behind them. It is that code that chose you. You placed yourself at great risk to protect someone else. You were rewarded with the opportunity to become a Vanguard. Now you¡¯re better equipped to protect even more of your human brethren. Myalis¡¯ argument had some holes in it. If they could provide me with such good equipment, why weren¡¯t they taking care of the incursions themselves? But that was for later. If the freaky all-powerful aliens just wanted to give us the toys to fix the problems ourselves that was their prerogative. The corridor came to a four-way intersection up ahead. I slowed down, stepping lightly with my weight shifting from side to side to keep my footfalls quiet. I probably looked like an idiot, but I was an alive idiot. I arrived at the intersection and stared. The corridor ahead led to more maintenance things. To the left was towards some smaller, cheaper offices, and to the right was the fastest route to the next stairwell. It was also supposed to lead through a little area with shops and cafes and shit. Somewhere where the people working in this building could buy stuff and grab a bite to eat. I moved rightward. Soon I arrived at a pair of double doors, one of them slightly ajar. The fact that it was being held open by a boot didn¡¯t go amiss, nor did the sounds of distant gunfire, screaming and explosions. ¡°Ah, shit,¡± I muttered. *** Chapter Fourteen - Curiosity Chapter Fourteen - Curiosity ¡°The biggest problem with the Antithesis.... No, okay, not the biggest, the biggest is that they won¡¯t bloody well leave us alone. The biggest problem with fighting them is that the damned things can¡¯t stick to one form. One day you¡¯re fighting a horde of quick-moving but weak Model Threes. The next day you¡¯re getting swamped by Model Six¡¯s that shrug off small arm¡¯s fire as if your bullets are little more than flies. I hate being deployed against aliens. Let me mow down a crowd of crying protestors any day.¡± -- Paul ¡®Rod¡¯ Roberick. First Lieutenant, The Rubbernecks, a North American PMC, late 2051 *** I edged closer to the doorway, then pulled it open with the tip of my foot. My hand was still firmly wrapped around my gun, barrel pointing down, but ready to snap up at a moment¡¯s notice. The body wasn¡¯t fresh. At least, I didn¡¯t think it was from the one glance I gave it before focusing elsewhere. The man might have been with the other group of students and kids, or he might have been some poor schmuck that was minding his own business with something decided to eat his face. I wasn¡¯t gonna poke around and try to find out. The short passage just beyond the door led into a concourse, shops lined up one next to each other on the side I was on, and huge glass panes overlooking the city on the other. At least, they might have overlooked the city once, now they just gave a nice view of the dull off-grey building across the street. ¡°Gonna get lost around here,¡± I said. I can guide you, though only with middling accuracy. I¡¯d suggest a neural augmentation to assist you with pathfinding, but you are far too poor for that. ¡°Story of my life,¡± I muttered as I carefully stepped over the body. Turn right ahead, then right again into the next junction like the one you are in now. That should lead you to the next stairwell down. I should probably have been disgusted by it, but really, I had bigger shit to worry about than some poor dead guy. A glance around showed the concourse empty, shitty asian-style pick-up-and-go restaurants were empty next to sub stores and a few little boutiques and tech shops. Not a person in sight. ¡°Creepy,¡± I said as I started ahead. I eyed some nice, nearly-glowing white sneakers on a rotating display in one store. I was tempted to get myself a fresh new pair. Anything was better than what I had on my feet just then, but I was on a mission. Shopping could come later. I can supply clothing of a quality incomparable to those you¡¯ll find in most human stores. ¡°Are you jealous?¡± I asked. ¡°Afraid I might buy things with someone else?¡± Nonsense. The equipment I can provide are orders of magnitude better than what you can obtain through traditional means. It¡¯s just logical that you¡¯ll prefer dealing with me over lesser suppliers. I grinned. ¡°You are jealous,¡± I said. Teasing the crazy AI in my head might not have been clever, but it was a distraction when I needed it. I was passing before the sub shop when, out of nowhere, something huge rushed at me. I froze, gun nowhere near ready to aim at the.... At the giant hologram of a sub sandwich. I slapped my hand over my heart. ¡°God damn.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. I stomped ahead, happy that no one had been around to see me nearly shit myself because of some intrusive advertising. I held my Trench Maker a little higher, scanning it left and right as I moved towards a little side passage ahead, right where Myalis said I would find it. Movement from outside had me turning to stare out into the city. A hovercar was racing by, three large, bat-like critters speeding after it. I moved closer to the window, following the chase until the hover car sped around a corner. The streets below were teeming with life, hundreds of model threes rushing along the sidewalks with bigger, nastier looking aliens ramming spikes into walls and doors to make room for them to enter. Fifty foot long worms were slithering along the middle of the road, some at a speed that was frankly worrisome, while others lumbered along, their forms bloated and bulging as if they¡¯d eaten a car. Strangely enough, the Antithesis were moving in the right directions for traffic, groups flowing together in bunches, but bunchest that didn¡¯t get in each other''s way. ¡°So many of them,¡± I said. The rattle of machine guns sounded out in the distance, a counterpoint to the eerie silence of so many monsters that didn¡¯t so much as growl. The AA guns had gone silent. A look up showed one of them sticking out of a cache in the ceiling of a smaller building. It was half melted, a large flying model perched atop it. Those are lesser models. They will scour the region for biological materials to bring back to any forming hive, scouting through buildings and marking them with pheromones to warn other models of the threat within. ¡°These all came in those ships?¡± Calling them ships is perhaps something of a misnomer. But essentially yes. Soon these relatively harmless models will range out towards the unconquered parts of the city. Your time is running out. A rumble from further down the corridor had me pausing. The concourse turned as it reached the corner of the building, the last shop in the line some Aug-gear store with more floor space than items for sale. I eyed the passage to the stairwell, then the end of the corridor. If we were going to pass here with the kids, it was best to find out sooner than later. Your curiosity is, pardon the pun, rather curious. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± I whispered. You initially seemed dead-set on accomplishing your goal, but now you¡¯re going off track because you heard an interesting sound. I¡¯m curious, is my Vanguard easily distracted? ¡°Don¡¯t you have a profile on me?¡± I asked. I was pretty sure half the companies out there had one. It was pretty common to walk into a store and only have the kind of stuff you¡¯d want shoved into your face. Or at least, what some algorithm suspected you wanted. Profiles do not tell the full picture. I wasn¡¯t going to argue with that. Especially now when, after crouching down to make myself harder to spot, I looked around the corner and saw a pair of model threes standing next to a black and green snake-thing the size of a bus. Chapter Fifteen - Worm Chapter Fifteen - Worm ¡°Little is truly known about what happens in a hive. Not because of a lack of research, but because the means to destroy a hive leave little left to research. What we do know is that the Antithesis are not a species made up of individuals, or even a proper colony. Hive is a misnomer. We have spent too long thinking of extraterrestrial life in a way that is easy for us to understand. The Antithesis are not ants, they are not termites, they are not insectile in nature, or mammalian. If anything they share more in common with plants. Ambulatory, devastating, violent plants.¡± --Professor Heinlein, excerpt from a lecture on the knowledge gained from early Antithesis studies (thereafter called Alien Anthropology), 2028. *** I pulled back and hid behind the corner not a moment before I felt all of my blood going cold. That had been, in my not-so-humble opinion, terrifying. The lack of noise from the aliens was alarming. Alarming-ish. Or maybe not alarming, but it made them scarier, and harder, to deal with. I sort of wished they had the courtesy to announce their presence. I tightened my grip around my Trench Maker, then flicked my thumb over the safety. The gun made a tiny humming noise and I felt things shifting within it. The reticule floating in my vision flashed orange.

I looked down the other end of the corridor. I could still leave. They hadn¡¯t heard me coming, which meant that maybe they wouldn¡¯t see me going either. And then, when we crossed over with all the kids, they would be right there waiting for us. I grit my teeth and held back a swear. The last thing I needed was to be disemboweled because I couldn¡¯t keep a lid on my dirty mouth. I shifted so that I was in more of a crouch, then held my gun close to my side. It wasn¡¯t how the heroes in the movies held their guns, but the heroes usually had an extra arm, and in the older movies they didn¡¯t have a red circle telling them where their bullets would land. I took one last breath, then moved. The first Model Three never saw it coming. It was still staring off down the far end of the corridor when the red circle of my reticule lined up with the side of its head. I yanked the trigger back, winced as that pulled my aim off, then winced harder when the gun barked in my hand. The noise was nearly deafening, and if it wasn¡¯t for the knowledge that there were more beasts I might have flinched hard enough to drop the Trench Maker. Luck, or some poor half-rate equivalent, was on my side as my first shot punched a hole into the back of the Model Three¡¯s head. The second spun around and rushed towards me, huge paws thumping on the ground even as its jaw opened wide to take a chunk out of me. I fired into it once, then for good measure twice more before jumping to the side. The Model Three flopped by, its body ragdolling over the ground. You only hit that one twice. ¡°Not now!¡± I said. Myalis¡¯ snark was cute, welcome even, but this wasn¡¯t the time. I brought my gun around to point it right at the huge worm thing and... and it wasn¡¯t really moving towards me. That wasn¡¯t entirely true. Its sides were undulating and moving about where it wasn¡¯t covered in bands of scale. Tiny little legs, no longer than one of my fingers, poked out from the overlapping scales and scratched at the floor as the worm wiggled away. I looked out ahead and spotted a few bodies laying on the ground, most in plain clothes, but a few looked like they worked in the nearby shops. And, at the far end of the corridor, a hole was blasted through one of the windows. The slime slick leading from the hole to the worm told me everything I needed to know about where it came from. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Most models numbers between Eight and Ten are considered utilitarian, or specialized. This is a Model Eight. They are harmless. ¡°Harmless my ass,¡± I said. The worm was moving over to some poor twenty-something that looked like he¡¯d been mauled. The smell wafting over from him had me recoiling, but I¡¯d been made to clean out the orphanage bathrooms enough times to be able to ignore it for a bit. The worm, the Model Eight, opened its mouth wide and started to grab onto the boy¡¯s legs. ¡°Fuck,¡± I said as I raised my gun. Three shots later I paused to let the ringing in my ears fade away. The worm was bleeding from three pinprick holes in its side, but didn¡¯t seem to care one whit. Its jaw opened wider and a few little tentacles pulled out of it and grabbed onto the corpse. I¡¯m afraid that it¡¯s rather useless. Killing that right now is possible, but you don¡¯t have the ammunition on hand to destroy every one of its brains. Nor do you have the time to find a more creative way to kill it. ¡°Brains? Plural?¡± I asked. One for every segment, yes. Albeit a very simple brain, as far as those go. I counted the sections of the worm¡¯s body, and gave up after twenty or so. ¡°And it won¡¯t attack me?¡± I asked. No. Not even if provoked. Model Eights are used to transport biological elements from one part of an Antithesis hive to another. That is all they do. Aggression is beyond them. They are worth few points. Speaking of... Targets Eliminated! Reward... 20 Points! Well done, Catherine! Your current point total is resting at a comfortable twenty-seven. ¡°I can¡¯t just let that thing eat people!¡± I said. I don¡¯t wish to be the bearer of bad news, but if you do not begin to move soon, there will be a lot more people being eaten today. I tightened my grip on my handgun. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. Looking past the model eight, I looked towards the hole in the far wall. It looked as if something big had rammed into the building, tearing apart one of the glass walls and the railings bhind it before falling or flying off. One of the bigger flying aliens, or a hover car maybe. I didn¡¯t matter. I inched past the worm and towards the far end of the corridor. I assumed that any other nasty aliens would have run over at the sound of gunfire. The lack of them was comforting. The hole in the glass revealed part of the city I couldn¡¯t see from the other end of the building. Smoke rose up, obscuring large parts of the world, but it left enough visible for me to see that the incursion stretched out all across the lower parts of New Montreal, past the island proper, and into the suburbs beyond. There had to be millions of people in the middle of it all. A red flash across the sky was accompanied by three dozen tiny black specks falling back to earth. I could just barely make out the form of someone way off in the distance, hovering over the eviscerated form of one of the giant ship-worms that had come down to Earth. Hundreds of tiny flying forms darted out towards the floating figure. It waved an arm their way and a shower of red beams wiped the air clean. I wondered how many xenos had died right there, how many points had been made. It seems that other Vanguard are hard at work. No doubt the local armed forces are making a stand as we speak. ¡°You think they¡¯ll be able to clean this up?¡± I asked. The city wasn¡¯t in ruins, but I saw one skyscraper entirely on fire some five blocks down, and the air traffic that usually congested the sky was almost all alien. I don¡¯t doubt it. This is a small-to-medium sized incursion. It will take some weeks to clear it out entirely, but humanity is nothing if not tenacious. Soon this area will be repopulated and growing once more, the dead will be replaced by newly born humans and your species will continue to flourish. ¡°Hmm,¡± was all I could say. *** Chapter Sixteen - Life Finds a Way Chapter Sixteen - Life Finds a Way ¡°On average, you can expect to find that 70-80% of all people near ground zero of an incursion will survive past the first 24 hours. Given clear lanes of escape and basic medical aid, as well as timely intervention by military forces and local Samurai, that number stays roughly the same in the next 24 to 72 hours.* This merely stresses the need for a rapid intervention plan, ready access to troops and medical professionals capable of acting quickly, and the infrastructure to move all of these people to a safer location. All this and more is, of course, what we offer.¡± *All stats verified by Adamstatistics! --AdamsCorp sales pitch to every major metropolitan city in North America. *** I left the worm alone. Given a few minutes I might have been able to figure out some way to toss it out the window or something, but Myalis was right, I didn¡¯t have the time. Maybe, maybe soon, I would be one of those Samurai able to wipe out anything in my path, but that wasn¡¯t the case yet, so I just had to suck up and deal with it. Returning to the corridor I¡¯d passed earlier, I slid through the doorway and walked down yet another drab grey passageway. The few doors opened along its sides revealed little break rooms and janitorial closets where sweeper bots were hanging to charge. No aliens, no signs that anything really bad had happened other than some things tossed to the floor and abandoned there. I stepped over a discarded purse and fought past the temptation to riffle through it. Then I found the door leading to the stairwell, red light glowing above it and all. A peek through the safety glass showed me a whole lot of nothing. ¡°So,¡± I asked the empty air. ¡°Uh, that Samurai, the one we kinda saw deeper in the city. They were flying.¡± That seemed like a Class III Gravitic Negation System coupled with a Class II Ion Thruster System. I¡¯m afraid that both are far outside your current means. ¡°But I could get that, right?¡± I asked. Of course. Though I should explain how the class and tier system works at some point. ¡°No time like the present,¡± I said as I pushed the door open and looked around. As you wish. Most early class--that is, Class I--catalogues offer simple items. Most of these are well within humanities capability of producing, given sufficient incentive and time. Class II materials and equipment are beyond humanity¡¯s capability to produce, and will remain that way for some time. Class III and above would require such large time and research investments to achieve that they are nearly impossible to achieve by humanity for some millenia. ¡°You have them though,¡± I pointed out. When humanity was still striking rocks together to start their first fires the Protectors had nominal control over a full two percent of the galaxy¡¯s star systems. We had made contact with dozens of species and formed an interplanetary compact that has lasted until now. That was... a lot? Maybe? I was never good with numbers like that. ¡°Keep bragging, why don¡¯t ya,¡± I said. I could, for a very long time even, but my current task is educating you on how I can provide you with equipment. Class IV and beyond will be difficult for you to obtain for a long time, I think it¡¯s safe to ignore those for now. Most second tier classes are merely evolutions of a primary tier. Your Class I Medical Utilities could become a Class II with a single payment of five hundred points. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Five hundred?¡± I whispered. Class III tiers require that certain previous tiers be purchased in order to unlock them. For example, if you wish to obtain Class III Electromagnetic Rail Anti-Ship Weaponry then you would need at least three Class II tiers in relevant subjects unlocked. ¡°You¡¯re starting to sound a lot like some sort of gacha,¡± I said. ¡°Are you going to tell me about dailies and special currencies next?¡± No. The progression is not linear. Class III Anti-Ship Weaponry could devastated the planet¡¯s ecology. It is merely sensible that they are priced according to their damage potential. ¡°And class four could blow up the moon?¡± I snarked. Yes. I paused halfway down a step. ¡°What?¡± The creak of a door opening below had me shifting forwards, Trench Maker rising towards the noise even though I couldn¡¯t quite see the door from where I stood. ¡°Bark twice if you¡¯re not an alien,¡± someone said from below. I snorted despite myself. ¡°Woof woof,¡± I deadpanned. ¡°Oh, thank fuck. C¡¯mon hurry. We¡¯re about to barricade this door,¡± the voice said. Trusting strange voices wasn¡¯t something I was usually keen on doing, but it had been working for me so far that day. I loosened my hold on my handgun and stomped down the stairs until I came to the bottom of the stairwell where a twenty-something guy was holding the door open. ¡°You¡¯re one of the kids from upstairs?¡± he asked. ¡°Yeah, I guess so,¡± I said. I looked past him and into another drab corridor, though this one seemed a lot shorter. ¡°There more of you?¡± He grinned. ¡°There¡¯s only one of me,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m Brand. And yeah, there are a bunch of us holed up in the parking. C¡¯mon, we¡¯re going to lock this corridor off before the aliens come around.¡± ¡°You folks have a leader?¡± I asked. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled the door closed behind me as soon as I passed. ¡°What do you think we are, some sort of weird kingdom of the parking lot? Nah, we¡¯ve got people from every floor almost. The vaults were all shit so we¡¯re gathering here.¡± I nodded along. It made some sense. A bit of weight was lifted off my back. People meant someone, or someones in charge. I didn¡¯t have to carry quite as much responsibility on my back. Brand led me from the corridor and into a two-storey parking garage, hover cars clamped into berths above and below us and the far walls covered in heavy steel shutters. A few hoverbikes were tossed together to form a barricade just inside the room with a few wide-eyed mall cops and older guys hanging behind them. I saw two more armed groups deeper in, and a whole lot of people gathering around in clumps. Brand pointed to the far end of the room where there were a bunch of kids. ¡°You might want to head over there. And ah, hand over your gun to one of the safety crew. They¡¯re taking any weapon they can get their hands on for now. ¡°So there is someone in charge?¡± I asked. He shrugged. ¡°Sorta, but not really. Things aren¡¯t that organized yet.¡± I frowned, the weight I thought I¡¯d gotten rid of resettling comfortably on my shoulders. ¡°Great.¡± *** Chapter Seventeen - Mall Cops Chapter Seventeen - Mall Cops ¡°The last federal police force collapsed some weeks before the government proper did. In its place various states, new state-nation-alliances, and city-states hired private companies to take care of law enforcement. These came at a variety of rates, levels of professionalism, and levels of corruption. ¡°Some argue that they¡¯re still a better alternative. Others disagree and wish a return to government-controlled law enforcement. But with so much of the budgets of most new North American nations going into reconstruction and rearming efforts, that is unlikely to ever happen.¡± --The Rise of the Mall Cop, published late 2037 *** I didn¡¯t know what to do with myself, which was, unfortunately, something of a common occurrence. What wasn¡¯t so common was having so many things to do and also not knowing which one to focus on. I had to find out what all these people were planning on doing, then I had to check on the kids upstairs and escort them down, then... then we¡¯d see. There had to be two, maybe three hundred people in the parking garage. Most of them clumped up in little groups next to pillars and parked cars. Office drones, mostly, with some kids mixed in, and a few androids that seemed at a loss for what to do. I even saw Bitchbot spinning in circles off near the far end. It was a wonder that anyone had bothered to keep that bot active for so long. One group off to the side looked important, a guy in a security officer¡¯s uniform, knee pads and vest and all, was talking to a few others who looked like office drones and teachers. He was barking orders, the growl of his voice audible all the way over where I was. I started walking over but was intercepted by what looked like two of the three stooges. Sue me, the orphanage only played movies and shows that were copyright free. ¡°Hey miss,¡± the fat one of the pair said. ¡°That¡¯s a fine gun, but I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll need to hand it over.¡± I eyed him up and down, from his self-assured little shit-eating grin to the frumpled jumpsuit with a logo over his shoulders. M¡¯all Cops, Only The Nicest. He had a gun strapped to his hip, a fancy thing with a light, what looked like a laser pointer and a tiny scope atop it, all done up in matte black. It matched his little tacticool bulletproof vest. His partner, taller and skinner, had the same getup, but his vest failed to cover a good chunk of his abdomen. ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s for your, and everyone else¡¯s, safety,¡± he said. His grin turned ugly. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want us to confiscate it.¡± ¡°Look, dipshit,¡± I whispered. I made sure not to reach for my gun, I wasn¡¯t bulletproof... yet. ¡°I need to talk to your boss over there, coordinate shit, then I¡¯m off.¡± ¡°You can be off after you¡¯ve given us that gun, and after we¡¯ve frisked you. Don¡¯t make our lives harder than they are.¡± I licked my lips and cursed the little guy in the back of my head. ¡°Myalis, is there a way to announce who I am?¡± I asked. ¡°My name¡¯s not Maya, kid,¡± the man said. Of course. Do you wish for me to ping the local servers and announce your presence? This cannot be undone I¡¯m afraid, but it might help. Most human interest groups understand the value of assisting a Vanguard in a time of need. ¡°Go ahead,¡± I said. The man ahead of me tilted his head and looked towards my ears. ¡°You talking to some el--¡± Everyone in the room paused, discussions cut out for a moment. I saw old school phones vibrating and eyes going glassy as people looked at screens I couldn¡¯t see. Then every eye in the room turned my way. The stooges in front of me took a couple of steps back, both of them going rather pale. ¡°Myalis, what did you send them?¡± I hissed. Your current profile and disposition. ¡°Can I see it?¡± I asked. The looks were unnerving.

SYSTEM-WIDE WARNING

Vanguard Cat is here to save the day!

¡°Why is it fucking pink?!¡± I asked. Then I stared at the picture of myself with a big grin giving the viewer a thumbs up. It wasn¡¯t even a proper photo but a looping gif. ¡°And when did you get that?¡± The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. I created a simulation of your appearance based off of observed reflections, public profile images and local camera feeds. It was simple to make your model pose as desired. ¡°It¡¯s cringey,¡± I said. The stares took on a whole new meaning. I think half of them thought it was some sort of prank. ¡°Change it, please.¡± Very well. I will try to create something more serious and befitting of your station. Everyone winced again. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake,¡± I whispered. ¡°Show me first next time.¡± Oh. You only had to ask!

SYSTEM-WIDE WARNING
All operations within floors -2 to 12 of 2517 Trudeau Avenue are now under the control of Vanguard Unit Catherine ''Cat'' Leblanc. Please follow her directions or risk losing your physical or monetary capabilities!
Current Vanguard profile:
Alias:	Cat
Age:	Restricted
Combat Readiness:	High
Kill Count:	Classified
Specialities:
- Kinetic Firearms
- Medical Utilities

¡°Do you get off on embarrassing me?¡± I wondered. Yes! I felt my eye twitching. The security chief looking guy stomped over to me and saluted. ¡°You¡¯re Cat?¡± he asked. ¡°Guess so,¡± I said. It wasn¡¯t time for fooling around. ¡°You¡¯re in charge here?¡± ¡°As in charge as I can be,¡± he said. ¡°You have orders?¡± ¡°Honestly, no. Tell me what you need and I¡¯ll try to provide. Can¡¯t stay here forever. There¡¯s a large group two floors up. I¡¯m going to escort them down here. We were thinking we could grab a hover bus and fly out of here.¡± ¡°That...¡± He paused, licked his lips and generally didn¡¯t seem to like the idea. ¡°Our protocols are to stay and protect the building and its inhabitants and workers until we¡¯re relieved.¡± I snorted. ¡°Did you catch a glimpse of the city? The only relief you¡¯re getting is in a grave. If you make it to a grave and not some aliens stomach.¡± I shook my head. ¡°There¡¯s no staying here.¡± He frowned. ¡°If you say so, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± I asked. He shrugged. ¡°All samurai are granted the rank of Captain by default. You technically outrank me.¡± I blinked. ¡°Well shit, that¡¯s handy. You guys need guns and such?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve got hold-outs meant for crowd control. Rubber bullets don¡¯t do much against xenos. We do have some actual guns, but not enough for the men I have here, less for those that are volunteering to help. We¡¯re planning to sweep the building soon, get everyone onto this floor, but I can¡¯t do that with pea-shooters.¡± I bit my lip and considered that. ¡°Can your rubber bullet guns handle normal rounds?¡± I asked. I wished I knew more about guns to be able to tell without asking. ¡°Also, do you have a name?¡± ¡°Simmons, and... yes, we should be able to.¡± He pulled the gun at his hip out of its holster and yanked the magazine out and then did something to pull a bullet from the gun. He showed it to me, black tip over a copper casing. ¡°These things are meant to hurt, not kill. Lower powder charge per bullet and all, but it¡¯s in standard nine-millimeter. We could fire normal rounds but our slides might burst off. Our tasers are shit and I wouldn¡¯t want to approach one of those beasts with a baton, regardless of how much they pay me.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said as I took his magazine and twisted it around. ¡°Myalis, got any ammo available, or would giving them new guns outright be better?¡± A case of standard nine millimeter rounds, with slightly reduced powder charge would cost you one point. I raised an eyebrow. ¡°How many bullets is that?¡± Five hundred. Their lethality would be reduced, but my projections suggest that they would still be effective against the lower ranked Antithesis. ¡°Shit,¡± I said. ¡°At that price, uh, I¡¯m at twenty-seven?¡± You are. ¡°Give me two cases and, uh, three of those Foxteeth.¡± New Purchase: Foxteeth Model D x 3 Points reduced to... 12 New Purchase: 9mm Reduced Charge Rounds - Case of 500 x2 Points reduced to... 10 Boxes started to appear around my feet and I saw Simmon¡¯s eyes light up with pure gun-nut joy. I didn¡¯t like losing so many points, but it might pay to make a good impression. Chapter Eighteen - Going Back Up Chapter Eighteen - Going Back Up ¡°To say that the world changed after the first incursion would be... not a lie, but an exaggeration. The day the first Antithesis set foot in Ohio, people in Florida were still cursing the sun, farmers in Europe were complaining about the sudden shifts in weather, the Asian stock market saw another downswing that had forecasters worried and another brush fire was started in Australia. ¡°The literal alien invasion took over six hours to make it to international news, and even then, people were claiming it was a hoax and going on with their lives. What was a South African shop clerk supposed to do about aliens in America? ¡°The world changes at its own pace, but it always changes.¡± --Excerpt from The Fall and Rise of Humanity *** Simmons overlooked the distribution of ammo like a volunteer overlooking the handout of snacks. The analogy worked even better when I saw the eager looks on all the security guard¡¯s faces. As it turned out, the way to a man¡¯s heart did involve bullets. ¡°Alright, what can you tell me?¡± I asked the chief. ¡°What was your plan until now, other than to hold up here. Are the other shelters as great as the one above?¡± Simmon huffed. ¡°This building is meant to be brand-new and state of the art, but corners were cut. The shelters were meant to be operational months ago, but they kept stalling. The money went into some fancy AA system on the roof.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a fancy AA system on the roof?¡± I asked. I imagine I would have heard something like that going off by then. ¡°You sure cause I didn¡¯t notice shit.¡± He nodded, then shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s there, it¡¯s just inactive. If I could turn it on remotely, then I¡¯d have gathered everyone here up and prepped a few busses to leave already. Let it distract any xenos while we make a run for it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like that look you¡¯re giving me,¡± I told the man. There was a cold calculating gleam in his eyes. ¡°We¡¯re stuck here, unless you can clear the path out from here to wherever the front line the military has set up is. But, no offence, you look a little green for that.¡± I scrunched up my nose in distaste, but had to give it to him. ¡°Alright. So that AA system?¡± ¡°Look, it¡¯s a hunch, an idea. But if you can get to it and turn it on, then come back, we can activate it from here and leave. It¡¯s supposed to be damned effective. Lasers and rail cannons and all. Made by some Samurai down south.¡± ¡°It¡¯s an option,¡± I said. I had other ideas in mind, but I wasn¡¯t about to do a fetch quest for a rent-a-cop. ¡°I¡¯m going to get the kids from upstairs. One way or another we¡¯ll be leaving this place, so, you know, get people ready for that.¡± He nodded. ¡°Fair enough. Want me to send some of my boys with you?¡± ¡°No,¡± I said. A glance at the way the two stooges from before were fawning over their guns had me almost trembling in revulsion. ¡°I¡¯ll manage on my own. I think most of the aliens will be coming from below, so we should be alright.¡± Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. He nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t die.¡± ¡°Likewise,¡± I said. I rolled my eye in response to his salute and walked back towards the door I¡¯d come from. A group of idiots were busy pushing a tipped-over hover car towards the door. A little sporty model, not too heavy, I guessed, but enough to make walking out a pain. ¡°Hey!¡± I called out. ¡°I need that door.¡± The group looked at each other, then elected a leader with their gazes, a familiar leader. Brand stepped up and gave me what he probably thought was a winning smile. ¡°Sorry. Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d need it. Heading out again?¡± He didn¡¯t do a good job of hiding his nerves with the last. ¡°There¡¯s a group of kids a few floors up. I¡¯m going to bring them down here before we plot our escape,¡± I said. ¡°Ah, can¡¯t they take care of themselves?¡± he asked. I stared at him for a good long bit, wondering if he was a moron or just a heartless jackass. In the end I decided it didn¡¯t matter. ¡°You guys keep that door open or I¡¯ll make a new door when I come back and then no one will be happy.¡± ¡°Right, right,¡± he said. ¡°Did you want anyone to go with you?¡± ¡°I¡¯d love company, but not from you,¡± I said as I stepped past him. The way he and the others backed up was... strange. No, not strange, I knew why they did it. For all the Samurai were practically worshipped, they were also pretty terrifying to the average nobody. No laws to hold them in place, most governments were willing to overlook a few broken skulls from a useful samurai, and most corps, arguably more powerful than some governments, would bend over backwards just to lick the soles of a samurai¡¯s shoe in case it was made from some proprietary alien rubber mix. I worked my jaw as I stepped into the stairwell and started making my way up step-by-step. I was one of those, sorta. At least, on the first steps to it. People were already acting as if I was a whole lot more than just Catherine Leblanc, Orphan number 0501. It was kind of heady, and weird, and frankly disturbing. ¡°Is it like this for every Samurai?¡± I asked. Perhaps. Most candidates are chosen because they have a temperament that would assist them through anything they might have to face as a Vanguard. If it helps any, know that you were chosen in part because we predicted that you would take well to the changes. ¡°What¡¯s take well mean?¡± I asked. There are currently no Vanguard world rulers. Those corporations and companies run by a Vanguard are generally those acting for the benefit of humanity. Once a person is a Vanguard our interference is light, beyond providing information, no AI will act to harm their host. So, you can at least trust that so far our criteria have picked out those who don¡¯t let the power take them too far. I shifted my shoulders as I kept climbing. ¡°That¡¯s kind of reassuring, I guess.¡± If that isn¡¯t enough to assist you through your broody mood, I can suggest some stimulants. I barked a laugh. ¡°Fuck off Myalis.¡± Chapter Nineteen - Future Chapter Nineteen - Future ¡°Food! Everyone needs it, everyone wants it. You run out, you¡¯re boned! That¡¯s why you should buy the best! And the best--and the rest--is all sold with the Estlen logo right on the box. If you¡¯re not buying Estlen, you¡¯re a dead motherfucker!¡± --Cancelled Estlen food promotion *** ¡°Lucy,¡± I said. ¡°Cat!¡± Lucy said right back. She clattered towards me, crutches clicking away until she slammed into me. ¡°You didn¡¯t die!¡± I snorted and returned the hug before pulling back with a bit of a blush. We were sort of the centre of attention, all the brats, Marie and baldy looking our way. ¡°We can put the apocalypse on pause if you two wanna go at it,¡± Junior said from where she stood near--but not with--the kittens. ¡°Shut up you,¡± I said before scanning the group. ¡°Nothing bad happened while I was off?¡± I asked. They were still in the area with the vending machine and washrooms. There were two ways to access the area and each had a decently tough-looking door blocking it off. If some aliens showed up they could run the other way, or hold them off. It wasn¡¯t exactly a chokepoint, but, well, we weren¡¯t exactly military. The amount of junk food wrappers haphazardly tossed next to an overfilled trash can attested to that much. Marie shook her head. ¡°No ma¡¯am. Everyone behaved appropriately. How did your scouting go?¡± I grinned back, especially when Lucy leaned into my side. ¡°Ah, well enough. There¡¯s a large group of people in the parking garage. Some security people, some normal folk. Most of the group that left the shelter earlier are already there.¡± I smiled harder. ¡°Even Bitchbot.¡± Marie raised an eyebrow, her expression turning confused, but the kittens groaned and muttered at the news. ¡°I uh, cleared the way,¡± I said. They didn¡¯t need to know that what I meant by that was that I had moved all the bodies I found to out of the way corners and stuffed them into offices and waiting rooms before shutting the door. I didn¡¯t want the kittens seeing any more death than they¡¯d already seen, and other than leaving me with the impression that my hand was dirty even after cleaning it twice, there wasn¡¯t too much of a cost on my end. ¡°Are you guys ready to move?¡± Judging by how fast they were to get to their feet, they were as eager as I was to get out of there. The group formed up, adults and older teens on the edges and at the front and back, littler ones in the middle and myself at the front leading the group through the same corridors and passages I had just taken. As soon as we were moving, Lucy walked up by my side and kept pace with me. ¡°How did it go?¡± she asked. ¡°Like a milk run back home,¡± I said. Fetching things from the convenience store nearest the orphanage was an activity fraught with risk. The orphanage wasn¡¯t in the nicest corner, and the sorts of vagrants that hung around there weren¡¯t the nicest people. It was still more fun than being stuck in the grungy old building though, so there were always fights to be the one let out to fetch whatever the kittens needed, despite the risk. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°How awful,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Any monsters along the way?¡± ¡°A couple,¡± I said. ¡°None on the way back. Saw a nasty worm thing that ate bodies too. Couldn¡¯t actually do anything about that one though. But, yeah, we should be safe.¡± Lucy was quiet for a bit. When we reached the first stairwell down, I held onto her crutches and allowed her to use my shoulder as a guide. It was kind of like being out on a normal day. Just the two of us and an unfortunate amount of kids making noise behind us. ¡°Where are we going? After, I mean,¡± Lucy asked. I shrugged a shoulder. Thinking about the not-so-close future wasn¡¯t on my list of priorities just then, not by a long shot. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°Back home?¡± Lucy¡¯s nose scrunched up, a sure sign she wasn¡¯t happy. ¡°Nah, the orphanage sucks, and we¡¯re getting too old for that place.¡± I rolled my eyes and handed her back her crutches as we reached the bottom. ¡°I suppose I can use the crazy money I make from being an awesome-cool samurai to buy us a mansion or something.¡± ¡°As long as I get my own room,¡± Lucy said. We grinned at each other. ¡°What about the other kids?¡± Lucy wondered. ¡°Will there be room for them in your mansion.¡± ¡°Our mansion,¡± I corrected. ¡°And sure, as long as you take care of them and Junior bunks in your room.¡± Lucy gasped. ¡°You¡¯re just trying to get me to spend time in someone else¡¯s room,¡± she said. ¡°You devious pervert.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say it,¡± I said. A cough from behind had me turning to stare up at a placid-faced Marie. ¡°Pardon me, saint, but time is moving on.¡± ¡°Ah, right,¡± I said. ¡°C¡¯mon Lucy, you¡¯re stalling all of us.¡± ¡°I am not!¡± Lucy protested. We moved across another floor, encountering exactly nothing alien or awful, or keen on eating us, then went down the last stairwell to the parking garage. The last door was clear, with the car they¡¯d set to push into it off to the side and a few security types waiting nearby, chatting over coffee as if this was a normal Saturday and not the day the sky decided to open up and vomit aliens all over us. Couldn¡¯t blame them, really. In fact, the smell had me wanting a cup of my own. ¡°Captain Cat,¡± Simmons said as he jogged over. I pretended not to hear Lucy¡¯s snort and nodded to the security officer. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m back,¡± I said. ¡°Good. We have trouble. And I think you¡¯re the only one that can help.¡± I sighed. ¡°Right, cool. Is it urgent?¡± His look said something between ¡®yes¡¯ and ¡®no shit.¡¯ ¡°Right, give me just a minute.¡± Turning to Lucy, I placed my hand on her shoulder, then I nodded to Marie for her to come closer. ¡°Right. Get all the kids set up in one of the buses. Make sure we have a way out of here in a hurry, then sit tight. I¡¯ll figure out what¡¯s going on, and then, ah, I guess I¡¯ll figure out a way to leave this place.¡± Lucy gave me a thumbs-up and Marie nodded. And then I was after Simmons to figure out which fire needed quenching. *** Chapter Twenty - Rescue Quest Chapter Twenty - Rescue Quest ¡°For a while there was a real debate across just about every country, on the nature of self-defence. Should civilians be allowed to arm themselves for their own defence? What kind of weapon can a normal person carry that goes too far? How do you split the difference between acceptable arms and unacceptable? And in the end, who gives a damn about what the government says when there are literally aliens coming down to eat you? No, the age of questioning the hold-out weapon is long gone. Which is why I have an important message from today¡¯s sponsor... Blasto! Use my name as a coupon code and get 20% off your next holdout purchase!¡± --Start of a Vidtube broadcast, late 2026 *** ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Lay it on me.¡± Simmons and I had moved off to the side between the gantry mechanisms holding up a pair of hovercars. We had both crossed the yellow striped line on the ground that marked the area where it was or wasn¡¯t safe to stand while hydraulic lifts held up the cars around us, but I don¡¯t think either of us cared at all. ¡°Materson and Thundercrock have gone missing. At least, they¡¯re not reporting in.¡± Simmons reached into one of the many, many pockets along his belt and pulled out a small radio, not bigger than his palm and made of that off-white plastic that all cheap shit seemed to be fond of. He tapped the front screen. ¡°No signal from their mics.¡± ¡°Okay. And who¡¯s Meterson and... Thundercrock... is that really their name?¡± He nodded. ¡°Jeff Materson and Storm Thundercrock, and yeah, it¡¯s his name. Two of my agents. Not the brightest, but loyal and hardworking enough. Sent them to the third floor. I caught sight of a few survivors in that area. Pair of young women, some office workers from one of the accounting firms. They just showed up on the security feeds for a little bit then were gone, but I figured they were worth trying to save too.¡± I couldn¡¯t fault him for that. ¡°Security feeds?¡± He tapped the side of his neck, the universal sign for an augment. ¡°Neural and optic implants connected to the building. I can see through any of the building¡¯s cameras, and any of those that belong to a store that¡¯s under our contract. That leaves a lot of blind spots though.¡± ¡°Can you see any aliens?¡± He nodded somberly. ¡°Yes. The first two floors are crawling with them. Models Three through Six, mostly. Nothing bigger yet.¡± I felt an eyebrow perking up. ¡°You know your way around the aliens?¡± ¡°I was military before signing up here. This won¡¯t be my first incursion,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s why I don¡¯t mind the idea of leaving, even if it¡¯s a risk. It¡¯s better than trying to pull a last stand. Those never work out against the xenos.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°So Materson and Thundercock?¡± ¡°Thundercrock,¡± he corrected. ¡°And they went MIA. I don¡¯t think they¡¯re dead though, just incommunicado. They¡¯re not the sort to go AWOL, and if they were, where would they go? Take a stroll down main street? Nah, I need someone to go check on them.¡± ¡°And you want that to be me?¡± ¡°You¡¯re a samurai. Your sort tend to like killing xenos by the lot. It¡¯s why I don¡¯t mind your green ass strutting around as if you own the place.¡± I snorted. ¡°So I need to earn my keep?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s the jist of it,¡± he said. He pushed the little radio into my hand. ¡°Connect your gear to that. Standard ForkBeard nine point-oh. Bit old, but it works.¡± Accepting strange gear from overly serious hardasses you didn¡¯t know was somewhere in the top ten things a girl shouldn¡¯t do, but I took it anyway. If it was bugged I was pretty sure Myalis could poke the virus dead. ¡°Thanks. Yeah. I guess I should head down. How long until we¡¯re ready to go?¡± If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Depends on a few things. Can¡¯t get that AA to work without someone knocking it about. I¡¯m tempted to send you, but I have some actual IT people from some of the offices. They¡¯ll do a better job than you could. It¡¯s mostly flicking a switch. Maybe an hour until we¡¯re all ready to make a run for it? That¡¯ll be... more or less two hours since the incursion began.¡± ¡°Is the time important?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s my first incursion.¡± ¡°I figured,¡± he said. ¡°And yes. The more time passes the worse the xenos get. Right now we¡¯re dealing with single digits, low ones. In a few hours the nasty sorts will come out, then by tonight the double digit monsters. Those need special troops and equipment to put down. If we¡¯re not gone by then, we¡¯re boned.¡± He is correct. Though I should add that eliminating a more difficult model of Antithesis gives a commensurate number of points. ¡°Right, so get down, find your two chumps, then race back up before things get worse. Maybe kill some aliens along the way.¡± He nodded. ¡°Stay in touch.¡± With that he walked off, as if he had more important stuff to do, which... yeah, he probably did. It felt as if he wanted me out from underfoot, which might have been exactly what he wanted. I stared out across the room and found Lucy chatting with Marie, the kittens and the religious kids mixing together like water and oil around them. I could have gone over to say goodbye again, but Lucy took those hard at the best of times and doing that to her again sat wrong. So did just walking off. But maybe that hurt me less than having to go through goodbyes one more time, and at least this way I could justify it by telling myself that I was short on time as it was. ¡°Think you could crack the building¡¯s security?¡± I asked Myalis. ¡°It¡¯d be nice to know what¡¯s around the corner.¡± I¡¯m afraid not. There¡¯s only so far that my reach can go. Both to limit my spread, and to prevent you from using me to abuse the technological rights of others. I could provide you with implants and software to easily crack into any system though. Class I CyberSecurity would let you override the building¡¯s system and Class I Cyberwarfare would allow you to buy the tools to come to the same end. ¡°So you can¡¯t do it, but you can give me the tools to do it?¡± I asked. And I can provide instructions! Before purchasing any of those though, I¡¯d suggest Class I Technological Utilities. Your current augmentations are inadequate. ¡°You¡¯ll need to explain your logic on that one, not the aug-gear, I know mine¡¯s junk.¡± I can¡¯t kill your enemies for you, but i can provide you with the tools to do so. ¡°That¡¯s a weird hair to split.¡± I have enough computing power to take over the world¡¯s infrastructure, and even without the blueprints to automatons--which I have--I could engineer methods to turn the entire world into a fortress. I snorted. ¡°Then why don¡¯t you?¡± There would be no place for humans in such a world. And my goals align with my creators. I want to protect you, not coddle you. It is, as you said, a fine hair to split. ¡°Yeah, I guess,¡± I said. ¡°Well, whatever. Let¡¯s keep moving.¡± Certainly! I predict a sharp increase in your points in the near future! Chapter Twenty-One - Descent Chapter Twenty-One - Descent ¡°The AI Accessibility Act started off as a law passing in New York state in early July 2027. Initially combated by multiple public groups who wanted to limit the power of artificial intelligences and who feared their reach and capability, the act nonetheless passed with the aid and support of governor G. Clancy (sponsored by Nimbletainment and BlackCore Inc.). This act allowed for the AI carried by Vanguard to legally access any computing device in times of great and obvious emergency without the direct permission of the owner. In actuality, the law was a formality. There were--and this extends to the time of writing--no ways of stopping a Protector-made AI from doing as it pleases, save by killing the Vanguard associated with it, which is a task not lightly undertaken. This period was called the ¡®AI Summer¡¯ and saw a surge in quasi-intelligent devices making their way onto the market. Many states soon adopted the same law.¡± --The Rise and Rise of AI in North America, January 2039 *** I took the elevator. It was a risk, yeah, but it was faster. And I figured that getting out of the elevator if things went screwy was doable. I had some points set aside, and Myalis assured me that the elevator worked before I got in. So I found myself tapping my foot, reconsidering all the mistakes I made in my life, and listening to some auto-generated music, the sort entirely composed by some automated AI that pinged off of a person¡¯s media feeds and tried to make the perfect song for them. I hated the music. ¡°Can you turn off that noise?¡± I asked Myalis. Sure, why not? The music cut off mid-note and I relaxed a little easier. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. ¡°One listen to some polka a few years back, and ever since my profile thinks that I adore the stuff.¡± Humanity¡¯s love for music is rather strange. Not unique, there are other races that appreciate artistically arranged sounds, but it¡¯s less common than artistic enjoyment of sculpture or poetry or motion. ¡°You know a lot of races?¡± I asked. I wasn¡¯t a sci-fi nerd or anything, but hearing about real live aliens was kind of neat. Of course. I could tell you about some of them. There are some special catalogues that are dedicated to the technology from any given race as well. Most Vanguard avoid these, but I find them interesting and diverse, if limiting. ¡°What are they like?¡± One that I think might interest you are the Sun Watchers. Their race is quite proud and regal, with a technological base not entirely dissimilar to humanity¡¯s. That is, they use a lot of electronic systems. They produce some very robust prosthetics and some sensory systems that are quite advanced. Class I Sun Watcher Technology costs one hundred and twenty points, but unlocks a diverse catalogue which includes a variety of items you might find useful. ¡°How¡¯d they get that name?¡± I asked. It¡¯s a rough translation of their actual name. Their culture has a lot of reverence for their local suns and spend a lot of time resting while outdoors. Sunbathing, as it were. I snorted. ¡°Cute.¡± They joined the local conglomerate some seven thousand human years ago when the Protectors moved to protect their homeworld from a solar flare. Their own space-based capabilities were insufficient at the time to negate the damage their world would have suffered. They are not terribly expansionist, and are a rather peaceful if prideful member of the greater galactic community. ¡°I guess picking a race¡¯s... catalogue thing is a better pick than some other class?¡± I asked. Every class and catalogue is unique, though there will be some overlap. A significant portion of the Class I Sun Watcher Technology will be found in Class I Prosthetics, for example. Therefore, I cannot say which would be best until you know what you wish or we enter a situation where a specific tool or utility would be of use. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°How many catalogues are there?¡± I asked. Eight million Class I. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. The elevator slowed to a stop, the display above the door reading ¡®6th floor¡¯ for a moment before switching back to an ad for canned coffee. The doors opened. My heart froze. I stared at the dozen or so Model Threes and a single large beast that looked like a six-limbed tiger with quills for fur. It locked three eyes on me and opened its mouth wide in a toothy smile. I tore my Trench Maker from my back, almost fumbled the gun, then pulled the trigger. A lot of nothing happened. You forgot the safety, Catherine. ¡°Shit,¡± I said as I flicked the safety off. My HUD lit up with a crosshair and the gun¡¯s ammo counter. The first Model Three started moving my way. I set the crosshair over its face and fired. Then I moved onto the next. The entire group started to move in earnest while I backed up until my back hit the wall. I fired five more times into the mass of black-green monsters rushing at me. OUT OF AMMUNITION I stared at the large red letters hovering before my vision, ears ringing and breath coming in gasps. I was so fucked. Then the elevator doors shut with a snap and the aliens thudded into the other side of it. I stared at my reflection in the polished stainless and wondered if I should be laughing or crying. You might want to reload your gun. I swallowed. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Yeah that¡¯s... yeah. Claws scrapped against the opposite side of the door while I fumbled the magazine out of my Trench Maker. I had to squeeze it between my thighs, ignoring the warmth of the barrel against my polyester pants until I got the magazine out and could shove my last one in. ¡°Was that you, with the doors?¡± I was. You are not equipped or prepared for a melee against such a number of foes. By the way, congratulations on the kills. Targets Eliminated! Reward... 30 Points ¡°Just thirty?¡± I asked. You only killed three. Ten opponents remain. ¡°I shot a lot more than three bullets,¡± I said. You can shoot any number of bullets at a target, as long as they fail to hit they don¡¯t count for much. Do you want to purchase high explosive rounds? They could alleviate some of the issues you have with aiming under pressure. You''re currently at fifty-seven points. You could afford them. ¡°Oh, piss off,¡± I said. ¡°Think you can open and close that door in a hurry?¡± I slapped the bonus magazine my Trench Maker had come with then waited for a second as the HUD updated.

I raised an eyebrow. ¡°What kind of bullet is that?¡± The little display at the corner of my vision showed ten bullets with red and black tips. They looked bigger than the 9mm. I can do that with the door. And those are specialty rounds that come free with the Trench Maker. One fresh magazine would cost you two points. They should be effective against your current foes. Provided you hit them. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± I flicked the safety off on the gun and watched as the barrel resized itself, growing a little wider to accommodate the new rounds. ¡°Open the door a crack, let me empty this, then close it again. We¡¯ll see how many points we can cheese.¡± That¡¯s the spirit! *** Chapter Twenty-Two - Cheesing it Chapter Twenty-Two - Cheesing it ¡°That¡¯s stupid. Yeah, alright, we¡¯re called Samurai, which comes with this mental image, right? The Bushido code, lots of honour in battle, some formality and respect. Maybe sharing tea with some idiot before you swipe his head off. And yeah, some of us go deep into that. Personally I think running around in an oni-mask is tasteless, but whatever. Truth is, when there are aliens around, you¡¯re at war, and in a war, there¡¯s no place for honour.¡± --Off the street interview with Three Strikes by Teen Lyfe Mag! Aug 2045 *** The doors opened, just three or four inches wide, enough to show off the half-dozen already dead and partially aflame bodies of the Antithesis I¡¯d already shot at. I aimed at those still moving, and after locking my arm in place as best I could, fired. I was growing to really love incendiary rounds. Something about seeing a red-hot hole punch into an alien¡¯s side, then a gout of flames pouring out of it... Yeah, if Lucy was in the room she would have made a comment about me getting hot and bothered, and she wouldn¡¯t even have been entirely wrong. My Trench Maker clicked empty, the elevator doors slammed shut. ¡°How many?¡± I asked. Five! You¡¯re getting better! Targets Eliminated! Reward... 50 Points ¡°Nice,¡± I said as I slumped back against the elevator¡¯s far wall. The doorway was a mess of splattered green blood that smelled a bit like a mix between mold and freshly cut grass. Some of the Model Threes had gotten close to slipping in, but Myalis was faster than them with the doors. Not that I figured the doors would last all that much longer. They had a nasty dent in them already and there was a bit of a squeal when they opened and closed now. ¡°One more try, then we¡¯ll have to clear things out for real,¡± I said. Getting the empty magazine out of my gun was just as tricky as it had been the first time, especially with the much warmer barrel. There was no way I was tucking that under my armpit. I ended up holding the gun between my sneakers to empty it, then shoving another magazine in. You have reached just shy of one hundred points. ¡°You¡¯re saying I should get to buying things?¡± I asked. An auto-loader would not go amiss. Or perhaps a replacement for your missing arm. There are also some utilities that would not go amiss, things such as clothes or armour, additional perception systems, scanners, and of course, more optimal weaponry. I picked my Trench Maker up, the gun now feeling a lot more comfortable in my hands than it did even an hour ago. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Where do you think I should start?¡± That depends entirely on you. How you approach combat, how you decide to live, what you find more important. I have a profile of you as a Vanguard, but it is not complete enough for me to say with certainty which purchases would please--and suit--you the most. I shifted into a stance that felt comfortable for handling my gun and got ready. ¡°What does your profile say so far?¡± I asked. That you are not averse to taking risks, that despite your enjoyment of being with others, you dislike working with them. This isn¡¯t too uncommon among the chosen Vanguard. You like being close to your adversaries, but shy away from physical confrontations, and you appreciate going unseen. You also like big explosions and when your adversaries die in interesting ways. ¡°Uh,¡± I said. ¡°Fair enough, I guess.¡± If I were to make a suggestion now, I would push you towards heavy body modifications to shore up your current weaknesses. As these tend to be expensive, I would also encourage a focus on stealth-based weaponry and equipment. Most Vanguard are rather loud, but there is always a need for those who can move undetected, unseen, and undisturbed. Also, I would encourage you towards various explosive technologies. Single-use items are somewhat inexpensive compared to others. It would allow you to, essentially, punch above your weight class. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. I lowered my Trench Maker. I didn¡¯t want to admit I was tempted, but I was really tempted. ¡°How many points do I have?¡± I asked. One Hundred and Sixty-Seven ¡°How much would a grenade cost?¡± I asked. Assuming you want one that won¡¯t kill you with the short range you have. Fifty points for Class I Esoteric Single-Use Explosive Devices. And five to ten points for something to clear the room on the other side of the door. I blinked. There were about six aliens left over there, maybe a bit more. Also, I wanted to try blowing things up. ¡°Shoot, why not?¡± I said. Class I Esoteric Single-Use Explosive Devices unlocked! Points reduced to... 117 Congratulations! Do you want me to highlight some of the devices in the catalogue? The elevator door boomed as something big rammed into it. ¡°How about you give me something that can clear our little mess, then we can talk shop?¡± Wonderful idea! Might I suggest the Mark I-D Resonator? It uses resonant frequencies to melt organic materials in its surroundings. ¡°Like... noise?¡± I asked. That sounded awesome. Indeed. One unit costs five points. It is non-reusable, as you can imagine. Also, quite loud, though you should be fine within the confines of the elevator. ¡°Let me try one, at least,¡± I said. New Purchase: Class I Resonator Mark I-D Points reduced to... 112 A small boxy item appeared by my feet. Just about big enough that I would have a hard time wrapping my hand around it, and shaped like a cylindre. A plastic tab sat at the top passed through a hole in a big thumb-switch. I stuffed my Trench Maker down the back of my pants--with the safety on-- and picked up the device to twist it this way and that. Mostly grey metal, with a few silver disks around it that looked like the little bits inside a speaker. The tap had ¡®PULL TO PRIME¡¯ written on it in big letters. There was a little dial next to the button above it, currently set at five, but it looked like it could go up or down with a flick of the thumb. Pull the tab to free the trigger and prime the grenade. The dial allows you to set the time. The second dial below allows you to pick the targeted material. It is set to Antithesis flesh by default. The large red button... well, I suppose I don¡¯t need to explain that one. ¡°Neat,¡± I said. I tore the tab out with my teeth, spat it to the side, then moved to the side of the door. ¡°When I say go, can you pop the door open?¡± I asked. On your mark! I grinned, pressed my thumb down on the grenade¡¯s trigger, and shouted. ¡°Go!¡± The door slid open a crack. A pair of long black claws raked into the elevator, like a cat questing for a mouse in a hole. I flung the explosive over the claws and heard it clunk somewhere in the room beyond. Please cover your ears. This will be quite loud. I stuffed a hand over my left ear, then pressed myself against the wall. The world filled with an anguished wail, one that grew, then cut off like painful waves. I pressed my hand harder against one of my ears and squatted down to escape the noise. Maybe playing with weird bombs wasn¡¯t my finest idea. Chapter Twenty-Three - Sludge Chapter Twenty-Three - Sludge ¡°In an ideal world, the Samurai¡¯s task would be to fight the alien threat and to provide humanity with the tools to do the same. This is not an ideal world.¡± -- Professor Asimov, Lectures on the Antithesis Threat, New Oxford University 2027 *** ¡°You could have warned me it would be that loud!¡± I shouted. I did warn you. ¡°No, you said it would be loud, not that loud.¡± I rubbed the butt of my hand against my uncovered ear, my other was blocked with my shoulder, It didn¡¯t stop me from wincing at the still-constant ringing. Forget firing my gun in an enclosed space, that bomb had been impossibly loud. At least the gunfire was one loud noise that ended quickly. The grenade I¡¯d flung, on the other hand, kept wailing and wailing like a demented siren. At least nothing was bashing at the door anymore. The aliens were probably just as stunned as I was. If they had better hearing than a human that... well, then that wasn¡¯t the case anymore. I dabbed at both ears to make sure they were blood-free, then worked my jaw a little until my ears popped. Had there been a difference in pressure too? Besides the sound thing? Whatever, it didn¡¯t matter. I had been having a bit of fun gunning aliens down from the relative safety of the elevator, but I still had to get a move on. The idiots wouldn¡¯t save themselves. I shook my head and tried to ignore the fading ring in my ears as I pulled out my gun and held it poised before me. ¡°Alright Myalis, open her up.¡± The doors squealed open. A torrent of green and black sludge seeped in past the door and into the tiny crack between the elevator and the floor proper. There was enough gunk that some of it flowed in. ¡°What the shit?¡± I stepped back then got onto the tip of my toes as the sludge rolled closer. ¡°What is that?¡± I asked. The doors were still only opened a crack but I couldn¡¯t see anything alive on the other side, just a floor covered in a few centimeters of liquid gunk. Those are the remains of the Antithesis adversaries that had been waiting for you. ¡°They were gooped?¡± I asked. Don¡¯t you know what a resonant frequency does? ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s not this,¡± I said as I gestured at all the blood and flesh and other bits that looked like they¡¯d been passed in a blender. The doors finished opening, revealing a hall with a dozen skeletons strewn across the room with little more than tattered muscles still attached to them. Some had holes in their skulls and bodies, those that I¡¯d shot before, but the rest were fresh and new. I wrinkled my nose and stepped in the goop so that I could stick my head out of the elevator. Nothing. At least, nothing alive. ¡°God, that did a number on them,¡± I said. Indeed. Do you want your new point total? ¡°Yeah, whatever,¡± I said. Targets Eliminated! Reward... 80 points! Current points: 192! ¡°Was that all of them?¡± I asked as I moved over to one skeleton with too-loud splish-splashes. My shoes were basically fucked if the goop didn¡¯t wash off. My pants too, while I was at it. Doubtful. There are probably dozens of them on this floor alone. The Antithesis tend to be fairly thorough with their scouting. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Why?¡± I asked. ¡°The scouting I mean.¡± Leaving little pockets of survivors here and there didn¡¯t exactly harm them, I didn¡¯t think. Biomass. Each kill is marked with a pheromone. Each large gathering of plantlife, patch of fertile soil, source of food and so on as well. ¡°Hungry, aren¡¯t they?¡± Interminably. I moved out of the little lobby area, careful not to make too much noise as I moved. A plaque on the wall named six or so companies that had sections of the floor, with arrows pointing off in the right directions to get to their offices. The plaque tried to connect to my aug-gear but I turned away. ¡°Now, if I was an idiot, where would I be?¡± I muttered. Shrugging, I found a corner to pause at where I had a decent line of sight, and pulled out the little radio Simmons had handed me. It took some fiddling to get the thing to work, but soon enough I had a lock and Simmon¡¯s voice came pouring out of it. ¡°Samurai?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯ve got a name, you know,¡± I said. ¡°And you never gave it to me and I don¡¯t have time to quiz people about it. Are you done?¡± I stared at the device. He was a lot more bold when I wasn¡¯t around. ¡°No. Just got to the right floor.¡± I hoped it was the right floor. ¡°Ran into a dozen or so critters that needed a send off. So I was a bit busy too. Do you know where your idiots are?¡± ¡°Northern side, close to the Finan-Tek offices. Come back quick whether you find them or not. We have a developing situation that could use some resolving.¡± ¡°Got it. Was that all?¡± I asked. ¡°It was. Simmons out.¡± ¡°A developing situation?¡± I asked the empty air. ¡°That sounds fun.¡± The Vanguard are often called upon for things beyond their original remit. ¡°Story of my life,¡± I said. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go.¡± I am literally in your head. You don¡¯t need to tell me to go with you. I¡¯m along for the ride already. The Finan-Tek offices were, according to the signs hanging from the ceiling, way off on the other corner of the building, which meant that I had a bit of a walk to get there. A walk past other offices that all had glass walls and lots of that sort of useless ¡®cool¡¯ furniture that start-ups love. Who needs seven couches in an accounting office? I felt myself growing nervous as I moved with only the distant cracks and booms of a small war outside and the squelch of my wet shoes to accompany me. ¡°Hey Myalis. That alien juice isn¡¯t bad for me, right?¡± It is somewhat toxic. But the drugs still in your system should negate the worst of it, and I suspect that by the time the toxins have time to settle you will have replaced a few of the organs they put at risk. ¡°What if I¡¯m not keen on replacing my body bits?¡± I didn¡¯t peg you as a body purist. I snorted. ¡°Fuck no. Give me all the cool cyber parts. I¡¯m just wondering, there have to be a few Samurai who aren¡¯t into that.¡± There are all sorts of methods to improve yourself. It would be difficult to fail to find one suitable to any given person. I heard the twin cracks of a gun going off ahead. ¡°Let¡¯s shelve that one,¡± I said. Chapter Twenty-Four - Dumb and Dumber Chapter Twenty-Four - Dumb and Dumber ¡°One through ten are deadly but manageable. Some aren¡¯t even that bad. The body eating worms are a pain to kill, but they¡¯ll just sit there and let you wail at them, and the surveillance birds, the ones that look like god damn pigeons? They make for good target practice. Some though? God, they¡¯re nightmares made flesh.¡± --Extract from Memoirs of a Front Line Man, by Stephan Clancy *** I started running at about the same time as I heard the first call of ¡®shit shit¡¯ coming from somewhere out ahead. Stealth took a backseat to speed, and I fought to stay on my feet as my still-squelching shoes tried to find purchase on the sleek floor. I came around the corner to find a scene out of a horror movie. A pair of Model Threes were clawing at a makeshift wall made of a few desks stacked atop each other with a couple of office chairs jammed in the cracks. Behind them, standing on six bulky legs, was a lumpy monster whose upper body was entirely covered in tentacles which were whipping forwards and grabbing at the bits and pieces making up the wall. A handgun appeared in one of the holes in the barrier. I ducked back around the corner just as it opened fire. Seven shots. Eight... nine... then a long pause before someone swore. Three more came right after. I looked around the corner to see one of the Model Threes bleeding out and the large tentacle thing was slumping to the side. It wasn¡¯t dead though, not yet. Biting my lip, I brought up my Trench Maker and tried to steady my aim. My first round caught one of the smaller Model Three¡¯s in the side, just a tiny pinprick that soon began to glow from within as the incendiary round went to work. I don¡¯t know what was packed in the incendiaries I bought, but seeing a Model Three start to writhe and twist as its insides flickered and burned was cathartic as hell. I turned and fired three rounds at the tentacle thing. The first hit its centre of mass, the second it the Model Three that was nearly dead next to it, and the third disappeared somewhere at the far end of the corridor. Close enough. Targets Eliminated! Reward... 35 points! Current points: 227! I know that ammunition is rather inexpensive, but your aim could still use some work. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to hold this with two hands, aren¡¯t you?¡± I asked. There are ways to improve your musculature. Or perhaps we can replace that missing eye with a proper targeting system? ¡°Can you put off trying to sell me things for just an hour?¡± I asked. As you wish! The timer is on. I couldn¡¯t even tell if the AI living in my brain was being sarcastic or not. What was my life turning into? Stepping out from around the corner, I held my gun low to my side and jogged over to the barricaded door while eyeing the corpses strewn about. ¡°Back off! Back the fuck off you alien scum!¡± I stopped moving and stared at the crazed eyes of some idiot waving a gun at me through the hole in the barricade. ¡°Hey, hey, I¡¯m a human!¡± I shouted right back. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°That¡¯s what an alien would say!¡± I blinked. ¡°Are you stupid?¡± I asked. ¡°C¡¯mon Jeff,¡± another voice said, deeper, a whole lot calmer. I saw a hand land on the arm holding the gun and pushing it down. ¡°No alien would call you stupid. That¡¯s a damned human thing to do.¡± ¡°Could be one of those sevens!¡± I grit my teeth. ¡°Are you Jeff... Matersomething and Storm Thundercrock?¡± I asked. The gun came back up. ¡°How do you know my name?¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°Simmons sent me to save your dumb asses.¡± A head appeared in the hole and I saw a pair of eyes widen. ¡°You¡¯re the Samurai!¡± ¡°And you¡¯re the idiots. Now are you going to talk or are we going to be shooting at each other, cause dick jokes aside, mine¡¯s bigger.¡± I waved my Trench Maker around and saw the head disappear. ¡°We¡¯ll move things over so you can come in,¡± Storm said. ¡°No no,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re leaving. I¡¯m here to fetch and run, not fetch and sit around for a drink.¡± The scraping of stuff being moved stopped. ¡°We¡¯ve got injured,¡± Storm said. His voice was lower, pitched so that only I could hear. ¡°If you want to leave without them, then go ahead. Wouldn¡¯t blame ya.¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°Fine. Let me see. I might be able to do something. What kind of injuries? Did one of you shoot yourself in the foot? Was it Jeff?¡± ¡°We have three girls from the accounting place a few offices over who were caught between one of those dog-aliens and a hard place. One¡¯s pretty rough,¡± Storm said. That poked a hole in my levity. ¡°Shit. Hurry it up,¡± I said. The wall of desks shifted aside and left a hole just big enough that I could squeeze through. I wasn¡¯t exactly the most flexible girl, and maybe my face went a little red as I huffed and puffed my way past the barricade, but I made it with all three limbs intact. Their set-up was a bit rough. Just a pile of furniture against the double-door-sized entrance and some more against the walls. The office beyond was a mess. Papers tossed all over, posters torn up, office crap all over the floor. I counter six people in the area, office drone sorts, with button-up shirts and confused expressions. ¡°Over there,¡± Storm said as he pointed towards the far end where a sign for a pair of washrooms hung from the ceiling. ¡°That¡¯s where we thought they¡¯d be safest.¡± ¡°More of them tentacle xenos coming,¡± Jeff said. He¡¯d gone quiet when I squeezed through, probably embarrassed, but more aliens coming did a lot to wake him up. ¡°You guys good on ammo and stuff?¡± I asked. ¡°Could use better guns, ma¡¯am,¡± Storm said. ¡°Ours keep jamming on the bullets you gave us.¡± I nodded. ¡°Any of them able to shoot?¡± I asked as I pointed to the office guys. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t trust them to.¡± ¡°Myalis, two of those Foxteeth,¡± I said. New Purchase: Foxteeth Model D x 2 Points reduced to... 217 Two boxes appeared by my feet, the same cheap plastic as last time. ¡°Have fun. I¡¯m going to check on the girls. Then we¡¯re leaving.¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Five - A Pad on the Wound Chapter Twenty-Five - A Pad on the Wound ¡°Owo? What¡¯s this? Someone that needs saving? The goal of every Samurai is to be a hero! Come on chat, say it with me! Uwu! Hyper Cutie to the rescue! Now let¡¯s kill some xenos!¡± -- Beatrice ¡°Hyper Cutie Bubblechan Zoom Ranger Sparkle Girl!¡± Smith, during her Twitch livestream of the 2039 Alaskan Incursion. *** The bathrooms smelled about how I expected. The moment I shouldered open the door a little perfumer spritzed some crap into the air that smelled like what someone who¡¯d never been out of a city thought flowers smelled like. Any perfume-related thoughts were set aside as I took in the grisly scene before me. Three women, all in their twenties if I had to guess, all near the sinks and fussing over a fourth. She was a mess. Blood staining an off-white pencil skirt, her arms weakly batting aside the helpful fretting of the others. ¡°Damn,¡± I said as I took in her wounds at a glance. Some sort of bite mark over her thigh, deep, if I had to guess. She had dark skin, but right then it was sickly pale-grey around her face and her hair was plastered to her head by sweat. ¡°Who are you?¡± one of the women asked as she turned. She took one glance at my bloodied shirt and missing arm and eye and immediately rushed over. ¡°Are you hurt too?¡± ¡°No, no I¡¯m fine,¡± I said. I... was probably not that fine, but I¡¯d taken a lot of drugs and Myalis wasn¡¯t fussing so I figured I would live. ¡°How¡¯s she?¡± I asked. ¡°Nevermind her,¡± the woman said. ¡°We need to get that shift off of you. Are you still bleeding?¡± I raised my hand in a ¡®one moment¡¯ gesture. ¡°I¡¯m a Samurai,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± She didn¡¯t believe me. I could tell right away. She had that look people did when one of the brats at the orphanage made up a tall tale about missing parents coming back or whatever. I shook my head and shouldered my way past her. I wasn¡¯t exactly keen on seeing wounds and the like, but it would take more than a bit of blood to make me squick. The wounds were pretty ugly from up close. They had slapped some pads over the worse of it, and it did seem to help with the bleeding a bit. Still, the counter she was laying on was soaked. ¡°You look like crap,¡± I muttered. ¡°Kid,¡± one of the other women said. ¡°If you¡¯re just here to gawk you can piss off.¡± I raised my hand in surrender. ¡°No, I¡¯m here to help. Myalis? Anything we can do?¡± Can you ask for the woman¡¯s permission to view her file? I can look anyway, but the formality is merely polite. ¡°Uh. Sure,¡± I said. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s her name?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s Elisa,¡± the woman that had been at the door said. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Hey, Elisa,¡± I said. ¡°Can my AI friend take a peek at your profile? It might help,¡± I said. ¡°Kid, get out,¡± the woman standing over Elisa said. She straightened, levelling a glare at me that had me backing up a step. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Fuck it, have fun,¡± Elisa said. That is more than good enough for me. Let¡¯s see... no diabetes, a history of high blood pressure... nothing that truly matters. The wound should be cleaned, then treated with something like Woundstop. How many points are you willing to spend? ¡°The fuck kind of questioin is that? However many it takes!¡± Now I was getting weird looks. Based on the amount of blood... Hemo-Restore. A Nano-Regenerative Suite to close the wound, and an Electroactive Polymer Bandage to prevent possible infections. A total cost of Twenty-Two points. I moved over to the end of the counter. ¡°Do it,¡± I said. New Purchase: Nano-Regenerative Suite Points reduced to... 202 New Purchase: Hemo-Restore Points reduced to... 197 New Purchase: Electroactive Polymer Bandage - Box of Three Points reduced to... 195 Three boxes appeared on the table next to me. I saw eyes widening from the corner of my vision. ¡°Which order do I give these in?¡± The Nano-Regenerative Suite first. Then the Blood Restore applied near the wound. The wound should be covered last. Nodding, I picked up the first box, flicked it open and pulled out the inhaler from within. ¡°Here Elisa,¡± I said as I moved over to the woman. ¡°Open wide and when I say so, take a deep breath.¡± She did as I asked and the inhaler emptied itself with a gush of pressurized air escaping. I fumbled for the Hemo-Restore, then pressed it to her thigh next to some torn pantyhose. ¡°Can one of you grab the last box? There should be bandages. I think you¡¯ll need two hands for that part,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re a Samurai,¡± the bitchy one said. ¡°Ain¡¯t it great?¡± I deadpanned. ¡°Elisa here should be right as rain. At least, I hope.¡± I tossed the empty syringe of Hemo-Restore to the side where it landed in a sink, then I moved over to it and waved my hand under the tap to wash it. The woman¡¯s skin was already turning a more healthy shade, which was a good sign, I figured. That was a noble thing to do. Good work Catherine! I rolled my eyes. I saw that. ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I said as I wiped my hand on the side of my pants. ¡°Can you girls take care of her while we move? She might still be weak.¡± ¡°Move?¡± Bitchy asked. ¡°We¡¯re not staying here to become alien chow,¡± I said. ¡°We need to move, and soon. There¡¯re a few floors between us and where we¡¯re going. It¡¯ll be good cardio, but it might be hard on Elisa here.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t we take the elevators?¡± the woman that had been quiet so far asked. ¡°I... we¡¯ll see. I want to move everyone as a big unit.¡± I shook my head. ¡°Just get ready to move, alright?¡± And with my good deed for the hour done, I slipped out of the room just as a notification popped up in my vision. Humans saved: 1 Points added New total: 196 *** Chapter Twenty-Six - Masks On Chapter Twenty-Six - Masks On ¡°In ANY combat scenario all units are OBLIGATED to wear their TYPE 70 MASKS. A unit who fails to wear their full protective gear will have their PAY REDUCED.¡± --Page 127, Red Warriors PMC Combat Manual, fourth edition *** ¡°We ready to go?¡± I asked the stooges. The two of them had their new guns in hand and were standing near the barricade. It seemed as if they¡¯d recruited some of the office drones to clear out some of the desks, leaving a slit-like passage that someone might be able to squeeze through with some effort. ¡°Yeah, nearly. Give the accountants three minutes,¡± Storm said. ¡°That girl okay?¡± ¡°She¡¯ll be fine. Might need some help moving about, but I think the others will be there for her. If we¡¯re slow we should make it, no problem.¡± Storm nodded. ¡°Great, cool. Um, awesome.¡± He shifted and gestured out the door. ¡°Do you want to go first?¡± I raised an eyebrow at that. ¡°Okay?¡± Did he want me to be the one that triggered any waiting xeno traps, or was he just nervous about being the first one out. It didn¡¯t matter either way. I moved over to the opening, pulled out my Trench Maker and leaned against the wall to see outside of the offices. Other than the corpses of a few Antithesis there wasn¡¯t anything worth fussing over. ¡°It¡¯s clear,¡± I said over my shoulder. ¡°Start moving people out, but tell them to be quiet about it. They¡¯re all adults, they should be able to keep their mouths shut, yeah?¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± Storm said. I slipped out and into the corridor. If I was going to wait I¡¯d at least try to be productive with it. ¡°Myalis, what kind is that?¡± I asked as I nudged the tentacle alien with the tip of a foot. That is a Model Four. One of the more versatile Models of Antithesis. Even after an incursion has grown quite large, these will still be produced. They are generally ambush predators and occasionally front-line fighters when their foe is lightly armed and armoured. Their tentacles are quite strong, and some are sharpened at the end. Their more dangerous feature for humans is behind their neck though. I stepped around the monster and looked behind its head. Not that it had much of a head to speak of, the upper part of its body swept up, kind of like a small, ugly giraffe, but without the head and super-long neck. I guessed that its eyes and mouth were under the pile of tentacles. I wasn¡¯t going to go poking my hand in there to check. There were gills along the back of its torso and where its head sort of was. Little pinkish flaps that stood out against the black-green of its skin. ¡°What¡¯s with those?¡± I asked. ¡°Does it breathe from there?¡± Not quite. Those are connected to sacks in its chest. The Model Four produces a gas that has been described as smelling faintly like flowers. To humans this gas produced psychotic episodes, hysteria, and paranoia. Though the amount a human needs to ingest is quite large. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. I backed the fuck away from the Model Four. ¡°Are you serious?¡± I asked. I wouldn¡¯t lie about the adversary. Your vitals suggest that you only ingested a very small quantity, not enough to have a noticeable effect. It will wear off. The agent is far from perfect against humans. I frowned as I put two and two together and came up with a number that wasn¡¯t four. ¡°What does it work well on, then?¡± The --- Wincing, I looked around and then shook my head. Myalis had made a noise, one that wasn¡¯t in my ears, just like her voice, but it was high-pitched and painful, like glass rubbing across chalk. ¡°The fuck?¡± Forgive me, the original name of the species doesn¡¯t translate well to any human speech. Unfortunately, the name they have for their own species is not descriptive, just as ¡®human¡¯ doesn¡¯t truly describe a human. Other Vanguard have nicknamed them Screechers, or Twasks on account of the sound they make while swimming. ¡°Wait, some Samurai have seen other aliens?¡± No, just recordings. The Twasks¡¯ homeworld had a predatory animal similar to the Model Four. It is the basis for the Model. The Antithesis consumed the predatory species and re-engineered it for their own use. The Twask homeworld was cored by a Protector taskforce some three hundred years ago after evacuating the remainder of the species. I swallowed. ¡°So these models, are they all?¡± Every model is based on a life form that the Antithesis have found interesting. But I can go over the history of the antagonist some other time. I looked over to see that there were a few people gathering out of the offices already. ¡°Yeah. Alright. Hey, that tiger-looking Model earlier, the one we gooped. What was that?¡± An Earth-based modification of the Model Three. Currently called the Model Three B. It began to appear after the North-China Incursion of 2035. ¡°Shit,¡± was all I had to say on that subject. ¡°Anything I can do to not get fucked up by alien gases?¡± It was a good thing none of the kittens were around, they would have been giggling at my word choice right there. You can purchase a disposable mask with your Class I Medical Utilities catalogue. One point for a box of five units. They are not exactly strong, but they will suffice to stop most biological agents. I did a quick headcount of the people moving out of the offices. ¡°Give me five boxes,¡± I said. New Purchase: Disposable Mask, Box of Five, Five Units Points reduced to... 190 Five shitty plastic boxes appeared by my feet. Now I just had to convince everyone to wear one. ¡°We should go over how to spend the rest of my points,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re not helpful just sitting there.¡± Wonderful! I have so many ideas on how you could improve yourself with a few well-spent points. I snorted. ¡°When we get back to the parking lot. Who knows, we might accumulate a few more between here and there.¡± Chapter Twenty-Seven - Stairs Chapter Twenty-Seven - Stairs ¡°Samurai are still human under the armour and the gear. Break enough artificial organs, crush enough of their mechanical interiors, pulp their brains, and blow up their backups, and you¡¯ll find that they are still mortal. Less so than others, but they can still be killed. It¡¯s something to keep in mind.¡± --Deathbed confession of Timothy ¡°Ronin-Killer¡± Hachette. Accused of killing three Tier One samurai. Apprehended by Tier Two Samurai ¡®Blood Magnet.¡¯ 2048 *** When we finally set out, it wasn¡¯t with any sort of formation in mind. We kind of just took off. The only one that was kept close to the centre was Elisa and one of the girls helping her along. She was limping pretty badly, and her leg looked rough even with the bandages on it, but she was able to hold her weight and we didn¡¯t have the luxury of waiting around to find a better way to carry her. Some of the folks with us had some things with them. Little bags or suitcases with stuff they thought was important. I was a lot more impressed by those carrying table legs like clubs. Jeff and Storm took the left flank, I took the right. A pair of older guys were at the rear with the guns the security guys discarded. They apparently jammed after one or two shots, but that still meant one or two shots towards any threat. I.... should probably have started handing out proper guns. But I wasn¡¯t sure if they¡¯d be needed and I wanted to save my remaining points. I had never really paid attention to just how much noise people make when they moved, but now that it was important and I was listening for it, it was almost insulting. Some of the office sorts were more than well fed, and just walking down a corridor had them huffing and puffing. They walked on their heels and some of them coughed every few minutes. ¡°This way,¡± I whispered as I led them into one of the little passages that lead to the stairwells. The building had twelve floors and we were on the third. That is, if I didn¡¯t count the basement. That meant that to get to the parking lot on the ninth floor we would need to climb up three stairwells. I wasn¡¯t sure if some of them would make it that far. Maybe they would be lucky and their hearts would give out. It was better than getting eaten. The first climb up the stairs was an exercise in repressing frustration. The group were slow, sweating after just one flight, then creeping up the second. The entire place started to smell of sweat. So I gestured to Jeff and Storm--who for all their chubbiness were in decent enough shape--to stay behind for a bit while I moved ahead. Getting some fresh air was wonderful. ¡°You might be right,¡± I said as I scouted the route we would take. The fourth floor was more of a maintenance area, or maybe it was just incomplete like much of the rest of the building. Either way, it was clear of aliens. Statistically speaking, I am right an overwhelming amount of time. What, exactly am I right about now? I snorted. ¡°Did they program the snark into you?¡± I adopted it to better complement you, actually. I can be dull and informative if you want. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°And you¡¯re right about the way I like to do things. Helping people is nice and all, it¡¯s just the people part that I disagree with.¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. You seem to get along well with your kittens, and Lucy. ¡°The kittens are my responsibility, and I know them besides. And Lucy... she¡¯s different.¡± Oh? ¡°Don¡¯t pry,¡± I warned. As you wish. But I do live in your head, I¡¯m afraid that privacy, and intimacy, might be difficult. I scowled. ¡°But you can¡¯t read my mind, right?¡± Not without certain augmentations, no. ¡°Seriously?¡± I asked. Each human brain is entirely unique, but they rely on the same systems to function. It still takes hours of scanning and compiling data to build a proper simulation of a human mind in order to read it. If you¡¯re worried about other humans being able to read your thoughts, don¡¯t be. The technology is far beyond your capabilities. ¡°Are you being creepy on purpose?¡± I asked. Is it working? ¡°Bitch,¡± I said with a laugh. By the time I made it back, the whole group had made it up the stairs. ¡°Is it clear?¡± Storm asked. ¡°As glass,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving. We should get to the top and then get ready to leave this death-trap.¡± We walked around the centre of the building, then to the stairwell on the opposite end. The office drones were getting a little more comfortable, complaining and moaning about their feet and about the state of the buildings. I wasn¡¯t going to disagree--I could have used a sit too--but their noisiness was irritating. The next stairwell we arrived at was dark. None of the lights beyond the door were on and even pressing my face close to the window in its door showed more than shadows. ¡°Damn it, did they just not install any lights?¡± ¡°The building is only six months old,¡± one of the drones said. I gave him a flat look. ¡°I don¡¯t particularly care. Do any of you have lights? Phones?¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you a Samurai, can¡¯t you summon one?¡± someone asked. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask if you had an opinion, as I asked if you had a light,¡± I said. A few of them pulled out smart phones and turned on their lights. A couple had keychain lights which did shit to illuminate anything, but were barely better than nothing. One of the lot though had the gall to frown at his phone before looking up at me. ¡°The flashlight app costs ten credits. Will you be refunding us?¡± ¡°Turn on the fucking light or you can explain to the xenos that you stayed behind because ten credits was too much for you,¡± I snapped. ¡°I swear, people.¡± I yanked the door open, and when nothing jumped out to eat anyone¡¯s face I gestured Jeff and Storm into the passage first. They had little lights on their tactical vests that shone a whole two feet ahead of them but looked cool. I was at the back of the group this time, following all the bobbing lights as everyone made their way up. My shoes crunched on glass and I looked down. Off to the side, barely bright enough to be seen, was a glass tube. A neon light, broken in its middle. A glance around showed a few more tossed around. I looked up to where the lights should have been in the ceiling above and saw the barest hint of motion in the shadows. ¡°Oh, fuck.¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Eight - Speared Chapter Twenty-Eight - Speared ¡°People forget that Samurai are human. In fact, they forget that they¡¯re usually young. The average age someone becomes a Vanguard is seventeen. That¡¯s... that¡¯s very young. I was thirteen. Too young to drink in most places, and given the ability to buy near anything from an uncontrollable source. Governments stop taxing you, but also expect you to work for them. Corporations weasel their way closer, ready to try and lock you into a contract. And the worse part of it all. You¡¯re only worth as much as you can kill. Killing xenos is easy. It¡¯s clean even. They¡¯re just monsters. It becomes a sort of game. It¡¯s fun. It¡¯s the humans you need to deal with that make things hard.¡± --Neon Girl Happy-Chan, Live interview on the Colby-Colbert Show, Jun 2029 *** I don¡¯t know what gave it away. Maybe it was my exclamation, or the way I moved to bring my gun up to point it towards the ceiling. Maybe they¡¯d noticed me noticing them. It didn¡¯t really matter. One moment the group of office drones were climbing up the stairs, grumbling between pants. The next a foot-long boney spike was through the head of two of those in the middle of the pack and a dozen more tentacles were dropping from above to grab necks and arms. Lights were dropped, others were raised towards the ceiling to reveal the two... no, three Model Fours tucked up near the top of the stairs. Screams followed. I saw Jeff raising his pistol to the air and emptying the magazine into one of the Model Fours. Storm started firing a moment later. The noise was unbelievable in the tight confines of the stairwell, with nothing but maddened screaming to accompany it. One of the aliens fell from above, crashing into those below it. The stairs here followed along the walls, with little platforms at every corner. That¡¯s more or less where the Model Fours were hiding. Two of them couldn¡¯t even reach anyone at first, not until they dropped down with heavy bangs and started whipping out their many limbs at everyone. I raised my gun, aiming it towards the nearest monster. The reticule paused over its writhing form when someone pushed into my and my aim was thrown off. The back of my shoe slipped off the step I was on, and I cartwheeled to stay up. When another idiot bumped into my I tripped backwards, my gun flying off as I grabbed onto the nearest railing for support. Someone stepped on me, another fell down the stairs and rolled over my back before crashing down below. I couldn¡¯t find my gun, not in the near-total darkness with only lights that were waving around wildly to illuminate things. ¡°Gun!¡± I said. Do you need anything in particular or..? I rolled onto my back and looked up as a dark form lumbed down the stairs towards me. One of the Model Fours, with one of the women I¡¯d seen in the bathroom in its grasp. It was smashing her head into the walls as it stumbled down the stairs on all fours. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°Gun!¡± I screamed. Something heavy and cold filled my hand. I raised it, saw a large circle of light before me, coming from just below a thick barrel. I squeezed my finger over the trigger again and again while hoping there wasn¡¯t a damned safety on the thing. The gun roared. I winced as it was almost wrenched out of my hand while a spray of bullets leapt forwards and stitched a line of holes into the Model Four. It flopped forwards, twitching tentacles pressing me down onto the steps before I shoved it off as hard as I could. The woman, or rather, her body, fell next to me. I recoiled from it, but I didn¡¯t have time for freaking out. There were more of the monsters in the room. Storm was holding onto a blade-tipped tentacle in each hand while kicking out with one foot. Another of the Model Fours was in the middle of flinging someone down the middle of the stairwell. I aimed at that one first, grip tight over the new gun. It screamed as dozens of rounds were spat out of it. My aim was a little off, and only half the rounds splattered into the alien¡¯s centre of mass. More than enough that it died. I turned to the next and pulled the trigger. Two, maybe three rounds shot out, and the gun clicked empty. Drop it! I did, the gun¡¯s light spinning around until it crashed to the floor below. A moment later a new gun, smaller, was in my hand and a new reticule was flashing red as it locked onto the last Model Four. Two bursts of four micro missiles raced across the space between me and the monster. I heard eight satisfying pops and saw the beast tremble. It slid off to the side, dead. Storm stumbled back. He was breathing hard, sweat plastering his hair to his head. He flung the tentacles he was still holding onto to the side with disgust. ¡°Fuck.¡± That summed it up. I moved past him, past the bodies of four or five of the people we¡¯d been with, and then up the stairs. The door at the top was opened into a corridor. This one was complete, at least, but the lights along the ceiling were all broken. There was light coming in from the window in the door at the far end of the corridor. I looked up, then along the ceiling and floors and peered into every shadow. It seemed clear. I didn¡¯t take any chances and shut the door. ¡°Jeff! Jeff you stupid stupid-- get up, come on bro.¡± I clenched my jaw and kept staring at the closed door. ¡°Please Jeff.¡± I swallowed and turned around. A glance at Jeff was enough to know he was dead. A spike through the skull would do that. The others though... ¡°Myalis, I need medical shit, just give me whatever, fuck the points,¡± I understand. The sooner we begin, the more lives we are likely to save. ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± I stumbled over to the first, got on my knees, ignored the way my everything ached, and got to work. I wasn¡¯t equipped for this shit, but there was no one else around, was there? Chapter Twenty-Nine - A Crying Shame Chapter Twenty-Nine - A Crying Shame ¡°Nightmares? Stress? Are you suffering from PTSD or anxiety over the constantly looming threat of human extinction brought on by the aliens above? Then come to Theracore for a free psychological analysis. Our team of expert psychiatric interns will do their best to help you work past your fears and worries. Seven out of ten Theracore clients come out of the experience feeling revitalized and more confident in themselves. And our services are entirely free! Theracore; we¡¯re here to help!¡± *All information and recordings of therapy sessions belong to Theracore. On entering a Theracore clinique you waive the rights to any information you disclose to our expert psychologists, staff, and interns. --Theracore ad, 2055 *** I¡¯d felt shame before. Embarrassment. I can vividly remember some of the brats catching Lucy and I in a closet then running off to go tell everyone. I¡¯d spent an entire week feeling as if my face was aflame. As for shame, I¡¯d done some pretty stupid shit sometimes. But right then, standing next to a row of four bodies laid out next to the entrance to the stairwell... I didn¡¯t know how to describe the churning in the pit of my stomach. I kept going over all the shit I could have done to keep them from dying, and the stupid crap I¡¯d thought about them. They were slow and fat. They were dumb. They were annoying. And now they were dead and it was my fault. A hand touched my shoulder. Turning, I looked into Elisa¡¯s deep eyes. She was teary, but there was determination over that. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said. I worked my jaw. A glance to the side showed one of the women crying into another¡¯s shoulder. Some of the guys didn¡¯t look much better. One or two were glaring at the alien corpses we¡¯d kicked to the side. Others were glaring at me. ¡°Is it really?¡± I asked. ¡°I should have--¡± She shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s not on you. It¡¯s on the aliens. You¡¯re... what, sixteen?¡± ¡°Seventeen,¡± I said. A few months from getting booted out of the orphanage. Maybe a bit less. My documents got mishandled at some point, and my date of birth was lost somewhere along with everything else. It didn¡¯t matter. ¡°Right. These folks, they¡¯d have died when the aliens continued to swarm us below. Hell, I would be dead by now if it wasn¡¯t for you,¡± she said. ¡°And I could have kept them alive for longer,¡± I said. She shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s not on you. Did you know there was an ambush?¡± I swallowed. ¡°No. I know what you¡¯re trying to do.¡± ¡°If you know it, then you know it¡¯s not your fault either.¡± I snorted. ¡°You¡¯re a real optimist,¡± I said. She smiled back. ¡°I¡¯ve been accused of worse. Now come on, we need our Samurai.¡± I nodded, wiped my hand over my eyes to clear them of dust, then stepped back towards the rest of the group. ¡°Do we have everything?¡± I asked. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Storm was staring at the ground, but at the sound of my voice he looked up and nodded. ¡°Yeah, we do,¡± he said. He tossed something my way and I almost fumbled as I caught it out of the air. It was a gun, the one Myalis had given me in a hurry at the start of the fight. It was big and bulky, with a cylindrical magazine built under the barrel that had a light in its middle. ¡°This one¡¯s empty,¡± I said. I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯m going to scout ahead. You guys follow in a minute, alright?¡± ¡°Yeah, no problem. Only one more floor, right?¡± he asked. ¡°Yeah.¡± I moved away from them and towards the stairwell again, pausing as I got closer. Something nasty coiled in my stomach as I looked at the door, but I pushed past that and stepped past the damned threshold. Are you feeling better? Myalis¡¯ tone was softer than I was used to, more concerned. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said. ¡±What are my points like?¡± You¡¯re down to seventy-two. I held back a wince. That was a chunk gone. I couldn¡¯t really complain though. Most of those had gone into medicine and the like to keep the others alive. As good a use as any. ¡°How much for a fresh magazine for this glorified flashlight?¡± I asked. The Sparrow is more than just a flashlight. It fires .22 copper-coated iridium rounds at 1,200 rounds per minute. Unfortunately the magazine only holds 60 rounds. ¡°It¡¯s noisy and heavy,¡± I said. ¡°But it has a light.¡± I can¡¯t dispute that. A fresh magazine for your flashlight would cost you two points. I had my Trench Maker tucked into the back of my pants already, but a second gun wouldn¡¯t hurt. ¡°Yeah, might as well.¡± A minute passed as I finagled and cursed my lack of a second hand, but I did eventually get the gun ready to fire. The anxiety was fading, just a little, replaced moment by moment by a growing, festering anger. Elisa was right. All of this shit was the Antithesis¡¯ fault. The only way to really protect anyone was to make damned sure that every last one of the bugs were dead. And if I could get a few points for my efforts, then that was for the best. I took the steps two at a time, eyes fixing on every shadow and corner, and breathing coming quick even through my disposable mask. Getting caught off-guard again was just unacceptable. ¡°I¡¯m going to need something that shows me where the bastards are,¡± I said. ¡°Something like a... radar.¡± There are systems like that available. I¡¯m afraid that most are beyond your current budget. ¡°Let¡¯s hope that budget grows a little, then,¡± I said. I got to the top of the stairs, looked through the window, then flicked the light on my new gun off. I didn¡¯t know how good the vision most Antithesis models had, but I didn¡¯t want to announce my presence quite that brightly. ¡°Let¡¯s find some aliens.¡± Chapter Thirty - Model Six Chapter Thirty - Six ¡°-this will mean a decrease of one to two percent on next term tertiary stocks.¡± ¡°That¡¯s barely acceptable. Can we lay off some chaff, cut that corner a little tighter? I want to break even at least.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see what we can do, sir. Our next issue is the New Montreal Incursion. It¡¯s landed close to some of our properties. The initial damage assessments don¡¯t look good.¡± ¡°Weren¡¯t those buildings still under construction?¡± ¡°Yes sir.¡± ¡°Then toss it to the insurance division. Tell me about the upcoming holiday season. It¡¯s going to be Christmas soon.¡± ¡°Of course, sir.¡± --Dickson Tech Enterprises. Owners of 2517 Trudeau Avenue. Current time minus one hour. *** I tried being quiet as I moved. Tried was the wrong word. I was quiet. Years of sneaking out from my shared room at the orphanage, days spent trying not to be noticed until I grew a backbone. I was damned good at moving silently. It''s why I think none of the aliens spotted me as I hid behind a counter. The entire floor, or at least a chunk of it, was dedicated to a food court. There were about ten or so restaurants lined circling the middle of the floor, with tables and chairs laid out all around next to the windows. That, on its own, wasn''t too special. I''d been in my share of places like this in malls and such. Automatic pizza places, traditional tofu shops that had the traditional acne-faced teen employees. Then there were all the usual chains. McDonalds and Burger King and such. Unfortunately they were all closed just then. The two dozen model threes and the half dozen model fours dragging dead fry cooks across the floor gave away the reason. They were gathering all the bodies over to one side, where a bridge connected the building over to the next one over. There was an entire network of passages connecting buildings together. That wasn''t anything new. Those connections being used to yeet the dead to the streets below, on the other hand, that was different. ¡°Shit,¡± I muttered as I pulled back behind the counter I was using as cover. I¡¯d initially moved to use the main paths around the edges of the building, like I¡¯d done on every other floor, but seeing so damned many aliens had encouraged me to find another way around. As it turned out, all the maintenance corridors linked to the back of the various restaurants, probably so that they could stock their fridges and shit without bothering their clients. I¡¯d picked a nice hiding spot next to the till of a Noodle Zen shop to do my snooping after coming in from the back. ¡°We can¡¯t possibly pass by here if there¡¯s so damned many,¡± I whispered. I reached up and scratched my nose through one of the disposable masks I¡¯d bought earlier. No point in getting fucked over by all the Model Fours around. You could go down and back up through the elevators. ¡°And when all of these xenos decide to race upstairs? I don¡¯t think a little barricade will do anything to stop these numbers,¡± I said. ¡°Not if they can get more from other buildings.¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.There was another thing I was considering. The number of aliens around meant a whole load of points. I was down to seventy. That wasn¡¯t going to get me far. Sure, if everything went exactly according to plan, then I¡¯d be out of here, and out of the worst part of the city with the kittens before nightfall. Things didn¡¯t have a habit of going off without a hitch for me. You have seventy points. There might be a way to spend them in such a way that eliminating the remaining Antithesis in the area would be possible. I bit the inside of my cheek and slowly poked my head out again. There were a lot of aliens around, but one or two well-placed grenades could take out a number of them. Then my attention was drawn to one of the bridges spanning the distance between this building and another, wider one across the street. The bridge itself was built like a sort of glass-roofed atrium. With twin rows of--now empty--planters inside it acting as rails of a sort except where a car-sized hole had been torn out. It was maybe twenty meters long, five wide, and jam-packed with aliens. Model Threes were sniffing about, Model Fours were stomping to the edge of the hole, each carrying one or two bodies, and sometimes crates of food or in one case an entire rack of chips. The thing worrying me was the lumbering beast standing near to the entrance. ¡°What¡¯s that one?¡± I asked. A Model Six. They are uncommon this early in an incursion, but they will begin appearing with more regularity by nightfall. I would suggest avoiding direct confrontation. While your current weapons could injure it, it would require a great deal of luck to actually kill the model. I could see why. The thing had six legs, set around a long, thick body covered in nearly angular plates. It moved over a little to get out of the path of a pair of Model Fours carrying an entire vending machine. The vending machine gave me a sense of much-needed scale. The Model Six was nearly a meter and a half tall, easy. Its face was a boxy thing, two sets of eyes on either side and a squarish jaw that was filled with flat-tipped teeth like some sort of camel. ¡°What¡¯s its gimmick?¡± I asked as I slid back down. The Model Six serves as a heavier Antithesis combat unit. They are also far more intelligent than most other models in the one to ten ranges and will act as a sort of command unit. Listen carefully and you¡¯ll hear it issuing very basic orders. I frowned, but did as she asked, tending an ear over to try and make out any unique sounds. There was the hum of wind pushing into the building, the sizzle of a frier someone had left on, and the shuffle of aliens. Then I heard it, a faint, but distinct whistle that warbled and shifted in pitch. I nodded. ¡°Got it. So it¡¯ll need to be taken down along with the rest.¡± It does give more points. ¡°Great.¡± I sighed as I pressed myself against the counter. I had to come up with a plan of some sort, but the only thing that came to mind was to fling explosives around and hope for the best, and that wasn¡¯t a plan. Or was it? ¡°How tough do you think that bridge over there is, and can I afford a bomb big enough to take it out?¡± *** Chapter Thirty-One - The Bigger They Are Chapter Thirty-One - The Bigger They Are ¡°They say they want to uplift humanity. Yeah, okay. Sure. That¡¯s nice. And how do they go about this? Give randos some space guns? Yeah, no, that¡¯s not uplift. Sure, they¡¯ve got other things going. Every so often a Samurai will ¡®buy¡¯ a blueprint and sell it to some corp or another. Usually it¡¯s the highest bidder. And then everyone gets expensive hover cars. It''s all connecting, can¡¯t you see? They don¡¯t want to uplift us, they want to see what we do with their toys! And then they''re gonna steal our memes!¡± --4Chan comment on the /ET/ board, 2021 *** There was no time like the present, but there was also something to say about being ready. I made sure my Trench Maker was tucked up tight in the back of my pants, that the bulkier Sparrow was ready and had its safety off, and that the four grenades I¡¯d bought (at five points each, they¡¯d flung my point count down to fifty) were bulging out of my pocket. When I¡¯d asked for something that could break the bridge off the side of the building, Myalis had suggested something called a Spatially-Locked Graphene Garrot. It looked like a little cylindre with a thick black band around it, and, according to my AI friend, it would absolutely fuck up the local architecture without actually exploding. I had other toys. One was a little two-point thing that looked like a ping-pong ball designed by Salvador Dhali. It had a pretty red button on top, the sort that screamed ¡®press me¡¯ without needing any labels. My thumb squeezed the top of the ball and it started to vibrate in little bursts, once a second, then twice, and shaking faster. A silent countdown. I flung the ball as hard as I could towards the far end of the cafeteria. It bounced off the ground once, then skid across the floor under it stopped next to one of those wooden boxes used to hide trash cans. The ball glowed a deep red, then began to hiss. ¡°Oh no, Sally, your leg! -- It¡¯s okay! We can make it! Help me up. -- You¡¯re bleeding out. What if they come?¡± I blinked as I listened to the terribly scripted discussion coming from the ball. ¡°What?¡± I asked as I dipped back down. The Mark I Audio-Scent Lure is meant to attract all sorts of Antithesis, including those intelligent enough to parse basic human speech. Well, that was fucking terrifying. A Model Three rushed over to the trash can and started sniffing around, then a few more joined it. One of the Model Fours carrying a body dropped it and came closer too. It was working. Not perfectly. Some of the models were coming closer but didn¡¯t join the huddle, others just eyed things from afar. That was good enough for me. I just needed them distracted for a moment. Reaching into a back pocket, I pulled out a grenade. It was small, just a ball with a tab above it. Myalis called it a Directed Chemical Laser Grenade, It was silent, which is what mattered to me. The grenade bounced and rolled, then slid off to the side when one of the Model Threes stepped next to it. I ducked down and waited. The room lit up as if someone had just turned on the edgiest disco ball ever for a couple of seconds. No sound came, but the floor bounced and the faint scent of burning Antithesis flesh wafted by. Now I just needed to finish the rest off. The Sparrow landed atop the counter with a clunk. One of the nearest Model Threes turned to stare my way. Four, maybe five of the aliens were on the ground, their sides sliced open and still smoking, others had straight line burns as well, but were still standing. I¡¯d fix that in a moment. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Die, bitch,¡± I said. I would need to work on my one-liners later. The bulky SMG spat out a dozen rounds that stitched their way into a Model Three. I didn¡¯t stop to watch it die, instead turning the gun over to the next lone Model. Another bark from the gun and a Model Four was torn to shreds. The large group around the lure started to turn my way. I greeted them by emptying my mag in a line that cut through the entire group. Some of them were missed outright, and others only got a glancing blow, but I saw a couple flinch back as two or three rounds punched through them. The Sparrow clicked empty, so I pushed it aside, spun on one heel, and ran into the backstore of the restaurant, the door into the employee-only section slamming shut behind me. My plan was fairly simple. I figured that was the best way to carry out a plan without it blowing up in my face. I raced through the tight corridors behind the shops while pulling out my Trench Maker. When I saw a familiar double-arched logo on one door, I pressed into it shoulder-first and barged into a room filled with the scent of burning oil and processed mock-chicken. The moment I was behind the till, I glanced over to the side where I¡¯d been killing xenos. A few of them were missing. Back in the thai place I¡¯d been in already? It didn¡¯t matter. I lunged over the counter and sprinted towards the open bridge. There were more aliens there, some of them turning my way, distracted away from their work flinging bodies down onto the streets below. I tucked my gun under my stump and held it in place with my armpit, then I pulled out the first of my three garrot grenades. Yanking the pin out with my teeth, I flung it as hard and far as I could, and watched it sail over the heads of a dozen aliens. I¡¯d always had a good arm. The next came out just as the large Model Six whistled and every alien in the area started to move back towards me. I flicked the second grenade underhand. It bounced to a stop just a meter or so past the entrance of the bridge. Perfect. The grenade froze in midair a foot off the ground. The black band around it popped off, sending two metal bits skittering across the floor a moment before the device started to make a whining noise. A thin black circle appeared around it, first only a few centimeters wide, then larger and larger. One of the passing xenos set its leg through the blackened circle. Its leg was chopped into a hundred wafer-thin layers, sending the rest of its body crashing through the spinning blender of a monomolecular razor-ribbon. The circle expanded more until it was eating through the walls and ceiling in the bridge, turning them into faint dust. Through the haze, I saw a piece of the bridge at the far end fall to the ground. That would do. My last garrot grenade was flung over to a group of xeno running over to me. It would give them something to play with while I ran. The entire building creaked as the far end of the bridge gave out. The sudden stress on the closer end, coupled with the torn up section and my old pal gravity, did the rest. Just as everything went down, a huge black form leapt into the cafeteria. The Model Six was missing most of a leg, and it was covered in scrapes and cuts, but its four beady eyes still fixed onto me. I found myself with a strong urge to get the hell away. Chapter Thirty-Two - Fried Chapter Thirty-Two - Fried ¡°Newbie Samurai are the best. They¡¯re still fresh and gullible. You can sign them up for all sorts of contracts no problem!¡± --A salesman¡¯s last words during a live interview moments before being beaten by Emeraude, June 2026 *** The Model Six was a big, mean motherfucker. I vaulted over the counter of a burger joint, skidded along across a greasy floor with shoes that had no grip, and swung around while whipping my Trench Maker out. A quick count showed six, maybe seven aliens, the Model Six at their head. I had ten rounds in my gun, and maybe a five second head start. The first shot took a Model Three in the chest, the next buried itself in the mess of tentacles before a Model Four. Every shot had me turning a little, placing the red dot of the reticule over the next monster in line. Not all of them died, but the incendiary rounds did some nasty shit to their insides even when they were hit in some meaty bit. I didn¡¯t get to enjoy seeing the aliens burn up. Putting two rounds more or less centre-mass on the Model Six was easy. It was a big bastard and it was getting close. Seeing those two rounds sputter and burn in its chest, like matches in a windstorm, was a lot harder. ¡°Shit, shit, shit,¡± I said as I turned on a heel and ran deeper into the back of the burger joint. ¡°Myalis, grenade!¡± I shoved my Trench Maker in a pocket where it stuck out halfway and thumped against my side with every step. Resonator, Mark ID. You should still be familiar with this one. Something cold and hard appeared in my hand. I reached up, bit the tab off, and slammed my thumb over the trigger before flinging the grenade over my shoulder as hard as I could. Then, just as I was coming around the back, something heavy punched me in the kidneys and I went tumbling forwards to land on my knees and side. I grunted as my back bumped into a counter and a bag full of burger buns came raining down atop me. The Model Six was squeezing into the backstore, its wide body too large to fit properly, but it was still shoving its way in, machines being shoved aside with every step. I grit my teeth, tried to pretend I couldn¡¯t feel the ache in my back, and jumped to my feet. The Resonator went off, filling the cafeteria with a chilling scream that had me wincing and that made the alien before me shiver. It didn¡¯t kill it though, not with the first blast. The damned thing was still coming. I looked around in a hurry, picked up a pan, then decided that banging it on the monster¡¯s head would do a whole lot of nothing. Then I saw a frier. I dipped the pan into hot oil, took it out, and flung the oil at the Model Six¡¯s face. The Model Six twitched back, head beating from side to side as its eyes and skin sizzled and started to smell like fries. The resonator rang again, then again, and the Model Six¡¯s twitching turned into writhing and, even though my head was ringing, I still made sure to stare as the monster melted. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. When I started to see bones sticking out of the creature¡¯s sloughing skin I stepped back, made sure my Trench Maker was still at hand. Then I got onto my knees to fish it out from under a counter. ¡°Any left?¡± I asked None that I¡¯ve noticed. Do you want to see your point gains? I backed up into one of the corridors behind the burger place, then slumped against the nearest wall while my heart calmed down. I passed my hand over my lower back. It wasn¡¯t bleeding or anything, or even painful. Were the drugs I¡¯d taken still acting? ¡°Sure,¡± I said. Targets Eliminated! Reward... 265 Points I blinked at the number. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. A respectable amount. I would suggest spending them sooner rather than later. Waiting until you are safe might mean never getting to safety. I licked my lips. ¡°Yeah, fine. What¡¯s my total at?¡± Three Hundred Twenty. I huffed in surprise. ¡°Damn. I can probably buy a couple of nice things with that,¡± I said. I would suggest immediately buying a few select medical utilities. A second Nano-Regenerative suit, just to ensure that you¡¯re in better health. A Nutri Pack to keep you going, as well as a Cleanse to rid yourself of the remains of the Mind Krank Ultra you¡¯ve taken. It¡¯s reached the point where it¡¯s acting as something of an impairment. I nodded. ¡°Sounds like a start, let¡¯s get it done before going to meet the others.¡± I coughed to clear my throat, then wiggled my pinkie in my ear. ¡°I need a few things. Something to reload my gun, and a holster for it. And I need... uh... more firepower, I guess.¡± That Model Six had taken a lot to kill. It was probably worth more points for it, but the level of danger compared to a Three or Four was too damned much. I suspect that you need many things. If you want to continue fighting as you have; that is, by laying out plans, setting up traps and then taking down opponents in large groups, then perhaps you¡¯ll want to split your investments a few ways. Additional firepower, more mobility, better sensor capabilities, and finally more advanced stealth systems. You won¡¯t be a Vanguard who charges in the front lines, but you may well be one of those rescuing the people caught in the crossfires. ¡°That... sounds nice, yeah.¡± It did sound kind of cool. Perhaps we should begin with Auxiliary Weapon Utilities Class I? You could purchase auto-loaders, targeting computers, basic mounted weaponry and a few other utilities besides. Fifty Points for the entire catalogue! Chapter Thirty-Three - The Perfect Fit Chapter Thirty-Three - The Perfect Fit ¡°Fashion amongst Samurai is a quick-moving and vicious thing. Most lower-tiered Samurai will change outfits and styles at the drop of a hat, sometimes literally. Their mass market appeal requires that they stand out, at least a little, from those that came before. That¡¯s why you¡¯ll see such wild styles being adopted by some. The rise of entire sites dedicated to judging the fashion sense of some Samurai (and the shaming of ¡®Shamurai,¡¯ or those Samurai who go too far with their style), the tabloids around them, and the way that clothing companies are quick to copy any interesting fashion on display has led to a strange sort of competition. Most of the established Samurai, strangely enough, don¡¯t seem to care as much about it. By the time they¡¯ve gotten that far into their careers they¡¯ve usually figured out the look and style they want to adopt.¡± --Edith Rockwell, lead clothing designer, Nimbletainment Inc. 2032 *** New Purchase: Under Shoulder Autoloading Holster Mark I Points reduced to... 224 I stared at the box waiting for me on the ground, right next to a couple of other boxes that I¡¯d kicked around. Myalis had convinced me to get healed up properly before moving on. Then she got me to buy a juice box. I sucked at the little straw sticking out of the one-point drink until my cheeks caved in. It was, hand down, the best drink I¡¯d ever had. Both sweet and savoury, with a bit of a citrusy tang to it, and it left me with an after-taste as if I¡¯d just bitten into one of those really expensive organic apples Lucy and I had once stolen from the better part of the city. Point was, alien food was the best and worth every point. ¡°I can never give any of this to Lucy,¡± I said as I yoinked the straw out of the box, then tipped it over for one last drop. I can¡¯t see how it would be bad for her. ¡°It would be bad for me. She¡¯d never stop nagging me for more. And then she¡¯d go full puppy-dog on me and fake cry and I¡¯d fold like a stack of cards. She¡¯d drain away my points in an afternoon.¡± Learning that my Vanguard is susceptible to attractive young women looking pitiful is rather distressing. I snorted. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you to get jammed in my head,¡± I said. ¡°Now, let¡¯s see this thing.¡± I could get used to opening up boxes only to find new toys in them. It beat the hell out of... literally any Christmas ever. The best we ever got were some really nice school supplies from a Samurai-run charity one year, and as cool as they had been, they¡¯d still been school supplies. The lid came off with a dull ¡®thwap¡¯ and I flung it aside without a care to reveal... a sort of jacket... thing. I pulled the auto loader out of the case and held it up. There were two holes for arms with elbow-length sleeves, and a zipper at the front. The entire thing only reached down to the lower ribs though. More like half a jacket than a jacket proper. Shrugging, I set it aside, tore off my own shitty grey coat, and left it on the ground. The thing had a fist-sized hole in it already, it was finished one way or another. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Putting on the auto-loader was a little tricky. It had pockets on the back and two boxes tucked just under the arms and over pouch-like openings. It looked pretty sleek though, like a custom made leather coat. Place your gun in one of the holsters. I did as Myalis asked and brought my Trench Maker into the right-side holster. The entire thing squeezed around the gun like a vacuum seal in less time than it took to blink. I had to tug at it a little to pull it out. ¡°Cool,¡± I said. ¡°What about the loading?¡± Touch an empty magazine to the box below your arm. I would suggest buying a few. ¡°Sure, give me, uh...¡± The gun was empty as it was, and there were four pockets at the back of the auto-loader. I imagined they would seal up the same way. ¡°Five magazines. All incendiary.¡± You really do like those rounds. Perhaps you should try something else? The Trench Maker can use micro-missiles, sabot rounds, explosives, and many other load-outs. ¡°Just incendiaries for now,¡± I said. Though some of those had sounded damned tempting. New Purchase: .45 Armour Piercing Incendiary Magazine. Five Units Points reduced to... 214 Five fresh magazines appeared next to the empty box before me. I took one and tapped it to the slim little box under my armpit. A trio of little arms unfolded themselves from the box, grabbed the magazine in little pinchers, then rotated around and behind me where I couldn¡¯t see them even looking over my shoulder. They slotted the magazine into one of the back pockets and then slid back into place. ¡°Cool,¡± I said. I watched the little arms slot away three more magazines, then I stuffed my Trench Maker into place. The little arms got to work right away, tossing the empty magazine to the ground and fitting in a new one in under two seconds. ¡°Nice.¡± I looked down at myself, then nodded. ¡°It even kinda looks cool. Does it come in colours that aren¡¯t black?¡± It does. You may pick next time. I didn¡¯t think it would matter. I perked an eyebrow. ¡°Which colours can I pick from?¡± Which hex code is your favourite? ¡°I... nevermind, just curious.¡± I have your measurements, so it should fit quite comfortably. I blinked, then felt the inside of the auto-loader. It was nice and padded. A quick zip, then some bouncing up and down revealed a few important things. ¡°When you said measurements, you weren¡¯t kidding.¡± If I gained any weight the damned thing wouldn¡¯t fit, but it didn¡¯t encumber my breathing or anything. Is there anything else you need? ¡°I... think this will do for now,¡± I said. How much time had I just wasted playing dress-up with cool guns? I shook my head, considered putting on my torn up jacket, then gave up on that. I probably looked a mess with my black half-jacket and torn up and bloody clothes, but I looked like a dangerous mess, and that was a fashionable enough statement for me. I considered tossing everything in the trash, then gave up on that idea. The whole building was filled with dead aliens, it probably didn¡¯t matter all that much that I¡¯d left some junk on the ground. ¡°Time to go see if the others are still alive,¡± I said. Chapter Thirty-Four - Rule Chapter Thirty-Four - Rule ¡°If you look at a bird¡¯s eye view of the first forty-eight hours of an incursion, you¡¯ll be surprised to see how they spread. We imagine the spread as a sort of flood stemming from the centre and going out, but in reality, just like the plants they almost are, the Antithesis move a little more organically. The initial incursion and spread is relatively contained, but concentrated in a few areas. Five, six square kilometers of highly concentrated hive mass for the first dozen hours. Then they push out in a ring, a huge burst of expansion starting, usually, a day after the initial landing. That circle of expansion stops, new ground is consolidated, then a third wave moves out. Some people compare it to breathing, and they wouldn¡¯t be entirely wrong. The process ebbs and flows, but it isn¡¯t constant. The amount of resistance they meet will often dictate the speed of the spread.¡± --Professor Heinlein, excerpt from a lecture on the knowledge gained from early Antithesis studies (thereafter called Alien Anthropology), 2028. *** I came down to find the dozen or so office drones, Elisa, and Storm all just waiting around. There was a listlessness to them, like how I imagined people that knew they were dead would see the world. They turned towards me when I pushed the door open with a shoulder. I got a lot of stares, which wasn¡¯t entirely new. I was a one-armed cyclops with a few strange scars and a tiny bit of an attitude problem. Getting stared at was pretty damned routine. ¡°You¡¯re all still kicking?¡± I asked. Storm pushed off the pillar he was leaning against. ¡°We are,¡± he said. ¡°How did things go above?¡± ¡°There were a whole fuckload of aliens. Were being the important bit there. If we hurry we should be able to make it up without any trouble.¡± I pointed my thumb towards the ceiling. ¡°Are you guys up for a bit of a jog?¡± I got that they weren¡¯t into the whole physical exercise thing, and who could blame them, but they didn¡¯t need to look like I¡¯d just asked them to take part in a puppy kicking contest. ¡°Come on, you can either get moving, or stay here and turn to alien chow.¡± That got them moving with a bit more alacrity. As one big group, we trudged up the stairs, then spilled out into the backroom for the next floor up. I had to admit, I enjoyed the wide-eyed looks they gave to the dozens of pulped, melted and torn up aliens dotting the cafeteria. What was less enjoyable was seeing knee-high birds pecking at some of the corpses and occasionally taking bites with razor-lined beaks. ¡°What are those?¡± I muttered. Model Ones. They become quite common a few hours after the start of an incursion and will no doubt soon be the most populous Antithesis variant in the region. Their threat is negligible, though they can still be dangerous in large quantities. ¡°Can I shoot them?¡± I asked. Certainly. It might serve to scare them off. I pulled my Trench Maker out of its holster and paused to aim. I knew there was this whole thing with placing your feet just-so, and aiming down the sights, and I did try a little, but I figured doing what felt comfortable was better. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Or maybe I was crippling my ability to actually hit anything. I squinted, lined the reticule over one of the bigger crow-like birds, then bit the tip of my tongue before squeezing the trigger. The Model One exploded in a bust of guts, strange feathers, and fire. ¡°Oh yeah,¡± I said. The others had flinched back, but they didn¡¯t seem ready to protest, especially not when all the other Model Ones took to the air and flew off in a hurry. Target Eliminated! Reward... 1 point ¡°That¡¯s kind of pathetic,¡± I said. Model Ones can be killed by the hundreds, and quite easily at that. Giving more than one point each would encourage bad habits amongst the Vanguard. ¡°Hrm,¡± I said before looking to the survivors. ¡°Whelp, let¡¯s keep moving.¡± Storm nodded from his spot at the head, and soon the group was off again and circling around any bodies along the way. The next stairwell up was meant to bring up to the parking lot. It was the home stretch. And none of those with me seemed ready to step in. A peek through the glass in the door showed working security lights that bathed everything in red. Opening the door and aiming around revealed a far load of nothing. ¡°I¡¯ll head up first,¡± I said. The climb was... anti-climatic. Just a few stairs up to the landing at the top. No aliens, no bodies. ¡°It¡¯s clear!¡± I called down before moving to the door into the next floor. There was a barricade just beyond it, boxes stacked atop each other, with chairs and desks behind that. I swung the door open then waited next to it, out of the line of fire. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± someone called. I felt my shoulders slumping in relief. ¡°I¡¯m Cat,¡± I said as I brought my hand around to wave. ¡°Cute, one-armed. Samurai. You should know me, I hope.¡± I poked my head around and found a nervous twenty-something in the M¡¯all Cop security uniform looking through a hole in the wall of junk. ¡°Oh, yeah, okay. Uh, we can move some things.¡± ¡°Cool,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ve got a dozen others here. And that Storm guy.¡± ¡°Storm and Jeff made it?¡± he asked. ¡°Yeah, great. I¡¯ll tell Simmons and get some help for this wall. Just give us a minute!¡± I sighed. Really though, I couldn¡¯t complain too much. I was so close to seeing the Kittens, and Lucy, again. Then we¡¯d figure a way to get the hell out of the centre of the incursion. Simmons showed up on the other side of the barricade just as the others started to come up. Some of them had pulled some chairs out of the stack to sit on, others were quick to complain about not being able to get past. ¡°Captain,¡± Simmons said. ¡°You got my men back.¡± I winced a bit. ¡±I got one of them back,¡± I said. Simmons met my eye. ¡°Better than none. Come on in, we¡¯ve got a few things to discuss.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll enjoy the conversation,¡± I deadpanned. Humans saved: 11 Points added New total: 226 *** Chapter Thirty-Five - Death Flags Chapter Thirty-Five - Death Flags ¡°Samurai die. Just got to pick the most dramatic moment.¡± --The late Silverhound¡¯s final words before the detonation of a low-yield nuclear charge in the centre of the Syrian Level Four incursion of 2034 *** ¡°We need you to help with the AA system,¡± Simmons said. I raised an eyebrow at him, but the man didn¡¯t so much as blink. In the end, I broke eye contact first and looked over to where some of his security guys were rebuilding the barricade I¡¯d just passed. ¡°Didn¡¯t you have some IT guys that could get the anti-air back on?¡± I asked. ¡°I did. We sent two of them up. They¡¯re dead.¡± I felt my nose scrunching in distaste. ¡°Are there more xenos on the upper floors?¡± I asked. ¡°There are more xenos period. Model Ones have started to flock around. If we leave now, we won¡¯t just be dealing with a few larger fliers, but entire flocks of those little shits,¡± he said. ¡°If we can get the AA to work, it¡¯ll at least serve as a distraction.¡± He placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled me to the side just as a few survivors moved past with some wheels that look like they¡¯d been torn off the undercarriage of a hovercar. The older man reached into one of the pockets of his vest and pulled out a small phone, one of the fancy sorts with a holoprojector. He fiddled with it for a moment, then projected a 3D map of New Montreal. He pointed to one building, a bit shorter than those around it, but still respectably tall. ¡°That¡¯s us,¡± he said. Then he pointed to something about ten blocks down, where the buildings started to lose some of their height. ¡°I sent some of my boys up with rangefinders. This is more or less where the front lines are set up. If we move straight South we¡¯ll be moving over the army in about fifteen blocks. It¡¯s not too far, a kilometer, maybe one and a half.¡± ¡°How big is the incursion?¡± I asked. Based on the time since its start, the landing point of the main Antithesis bodies and the position of the armed forces on that map, my simulation suggests a five kilometer wide circle. I touched my ear with my hand. ¡°So, five klicks in diameter, that¡¯s, uh, thirty kilometers square?¡± ... My Vanguard is bad at math. This is rather shameful. The surface of a circle can be calculated by taking pi, and multiplying it by the radius squared. ¡°I don¡¯t need to know how to do the math,¡± I said. ¡°I need the answer.¡± The AI sighed in my head. It¡¯s approximately twenty kilometers square. Since you don¡¯t seem to care about the math, I suppose big round numbers will have to do. Would you accept multiples of five, or should I stick to multiples of ten for you? I rolled my eye. ¡°Okay, so it¡¯s pretty big, but not that huge yet, and we¡¯re not in the dead centre.¡± I rubbed at my neck. ¡°We get the AA on, we distract the local beasties, then we make a run for it, and hope that we can cover a couple of klicks without turning into xeno chow.¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°The terrain complicates things a little,¡± Simmons said. ¡°We can¡¯t make a straight-line dash to the nearest military position. But we can probably make it there in under two, maybe three minutes of flight time. There¡¯s little traffic out there.¡± So far, the plan was okay. There was just one very big, very glaring problem with it. ¡°So when I turn on the AA, they¡¯re on for good, right?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± ¡°Which means we¡¯ll have to leave then and there.¡± Simmons nodded. ¡°Then how in the fuck will I get out?¡± I asked. The man shifted, and for once didn¡¯t meet my eye. ¡°You¡¯re a clever girl, you¡¯ll figure it out, I¡¯m certain.¡± ¡°You¡¯re sending me to die?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m sending you to save all those people,¡± he said while pointing into the parking garage. A glance over showed kids being loaded onto busses, adults tossing things out of hovercars to lighten them and a few passing out what might be makeshift weapons in the form of clubs and metal bars. My eye caught on Lucy¡¯s familiar form way off at the back. She was smiling, big and proud while she made wild gestures through the air around her that always ended with her hands snapping back down to make sure her crutches didn¡¯t fall. Marie was just before her, listening intently, but also blushing furiously. Lucy was no doubt pushing the boundaries of what the girl thought of as acceptable. ¡°Are you sending me alone?¡± I asked. ¡°Can you manage alone?¡± he asked. ¡°The last three I sent, as a group, they got to the top floor but didn¡¯t make it to the platform before one of them said something about birds. They went MIA right after.¡± I glared at nothing. ¡°I¡¯m going to go say bye to the kittens,¡± I said. I brushed past Simmons only for the man to grab me by the stump. ¡°Are you going to do it?¡± he asked. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll do it. Touch me again and I¡¯ll... I don¡¯t know, shoot you or something.¡± He let go. ¡°Thank you. Contact me when you set out, I¡¯ll make sure everyone is ready to go.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. My steps felt a little weird as I moved over towards Lucy and the others. There¡¯s no need to worry so much. The plan you¡¯ve concocted has a higher-than-average chance of succeeding. And you¡¯re my Vanguard. I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re equipped for combat out in the open. I¡¯m certain you¡¯ll survive. ¡°Your confidence is inspiring,¡± I told Myalis. I do try. I reached Lucy, cutting her off in the middle of a story that I recognized as one of the times we¡¯d been caught doing things we shouldn¡¯t have. ¡°Cat?¡± she asked. ¡°I like your jacke--¡± I pulled her into a one-armed hug and tucked my head into the crook of her neck. ¡°Just give me a minute,¡± I said. Lucy, being Lucy, hugged back. Chapter Thirty-Six - A Matter of Trust Chapter Thirty-Six - A Matter of Trust ¡°There are people, real weirdos, who are actual fans of the Antithesis. They make costumes and symbols, they argue over facts about them online. They¡¯ve got bug-sonas. Those really deep in those circles worship the aliens. They see them as a sort of divine punishment, or some sort of underdog alien. It doesn¡¯t usually make sense. We¡¯re happy to leave them to their own beliefs, most of the time. They¡¯re rather harmless.¡± --Sergeant O''malley, New New York NNYPD, a week before the pro-Antithesis bombing campaign that took his life. January 2049 *** ¡°I¡¯m really starting to hate stairs,¡± I said. Then kill enough Antithesis and save enough people that you can afford a flight system. I rolled my eye. ¡°Is that your solution to everything?¡± I asked. Of course not. It¡¯s a solution to most things. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s the retirement plan for Samurai anyway?¡± A Vanguard can stop assisting against the Antithesis at any time, though you¡¯d need to survive with your monthly allowance of points, which is a negligible amount. I hummed as I started taking the steps two at a time. The faster I could get to the roof, the faster Lucy and the Kittens would be out of here. And then... and then I¡¯d figure something out. ¡°I¡¯ve got two questions,¡± I said. I¡¯m always listening. ¡°Creepy. First, should I be getting something. I don¡¯t know, armour or better gear. And second, the AA installation, will I need anything for it?¡± It¡¯s quite possible that you¡¯ll need some sort of interfacing tool to connect to a Vanguard-designed system. As for your equipment. Yes. Yes you definitely need better equipment. So far every tool you¡¯ve purchased has been, in a word, lacklustre and of low quality. A proper handgun would cost hundreds of points, armour the same. The issue is that your point total is quite low. Spending it all now on mediocre equipment would make obtaining better equipment later difficult. I scratched at my chin as I reached the top of the stairwell. ¡°I get what you¡¯re saying, yeah. But I don¡¯t mind taking things slow if it means living.¡± Actually, I did kind of mind. I¡¯d grown to hate the subpar crap we were always given at the orphanage, I wanted some of the nicer things right off the bat, but I also wanted to live. Setting aside my preferences to not get gored was totally alright in my book. Then again, not picking a fight was the best way to win a fight, in my experience. ¡°I need stealth shit,¡± I said. ¡°And something to compensate for my terrible aim.¡± Purchasing stealth equipment is an excellent idea! Although I¡¯m afraid that most of it will be beyond you for the moment. Basic Stealth Systems Class I costs one hundred points. From there you could purchase something like a Stealth Overcoat, which would serve as a decent disguise, for fifty points. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t help my aim much,¡± I said. True. I would then suggest two more utilities. You are in dire need of a better augmentation system, but seeing as how that isn¡¯t available at the moment, not without spending points on things that aren¡¯t immediately useful, perhaps a Basic Targeting System Mark I from you Auxiliary Weapon Utilities Class I for twenty points, then a Hydra Autonomous Targeting Mount for one hundred points. ¡°What¡¯s that last thing?¡± I asked. It¡¯s a mounted mechanical system that, essentially, holds onto a firearm of your choice. It can aim and fire it using either line of sight targeting, or a more complex targeting computer. Stolen novel; please report. ¡°And then I¡¯d need to buy the gun on top of that,¡± I said. Indeed. Maybe I should have retrieved that sparrow I¡¯d tossed earlier. It could be saving me a few points now. ¡°I¡¯m willing to give it a try,¡± I said as I pushed past the door at the top of the stairwell and slid into a long corridor. I was getting way too used to the damned building. ¡°Let¡¯s start with the additional firepower.¡± Being harder to see and hit was nice and all, but I wanted to be able to hit back. Just to confirm, you want the Basic Targeting System Mark I and the Hydra Autonomous Targeting Mount? I nodded. ¡°Yeah, they both sound useful. They¡¯ll help, right?¡± Most things in the catalogues are meant to help in one way or another. I am merely trying to hint that perhaps you should spend more time perusing your options before accepting the first thing I offer. I dropped my voice to a low whisper. I didn¡¯t want to alert everything around me that I was there. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be picking out the best things for me anyway?¡± I asked. Always. Your profile didn¡¯t suggest that you were this trusting of authority. I stopped near an intersection and looked around the corner before answering. That answer came in the form of a shrug. ¡°I dunno. You don¡¯t feel like some corpo drone, or one of the volunteers at the orphanage, you feel... like you?¡± Had the AI been doing something to ingratiate herself? Itself. I guessed so. She even said that she was talking and joking with me to get me to lower my guard. I guess it had worked. I appreciate it. Truly. And yes, while I am trying to guide your development with an eye towards long-term gains, I also want to see you doing well in the short term. ¡°Very sappy,¡± I said. ¡°Did my profile tell you how much I hate sappy shit?¡± There is a note that your behaviour during the filming of some commercials and PR events centered around the more... disabled members of your orphanage was sub-par. I could infer from there. I snorted. ¡°Give me my new toys, and let¡¯s keep moving.¡± New Purchase: Basic Targeting System Mark I Points reduced to... 206 New Purchase: Hydra Autonomous Targeting Mount Points Reduced to... 106 I took in the two boxes below me, one small enough to fit on my palm, the other longer than my arm and nearly a foot thick and tall. I opened the smaller one first to find a small device, L-shaped, with intricate little projectors and some bits that I didn¡¯t recognize. Press the longer section over your temple, the round ball at the end of the other bar should touch the bridge of your nose. I caught on soon enough. It was basically a sort of square, half-rim monocle that stuck to my skin as if glued on. The moment it was in place the projectors fired up and I now had a HUD over my HUD. ¡°That¡¯s going to be annoying,¡± I said. You¡¯ll get used to it, I suspect. It¡¯s mostly there to track your eye¡¯s motion and its hardware will do a lot of the work that your current gear can¡¯t. It will make more sense once you equip your other new piece of gear. I shrugged and tried to ignore the impression that I had a lock of hair tickling my nose where the targeting system was pressed. The second, bigger, box had a much cooler toy. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. Then I started grinning. Chapter Thirty-Seven - Armed and ready Chapter Thirty-Seven - Armed and ready ¡°The human form is far from perfect, especially against something like the Antithesis who take biological weaponry to an entirely new level with each iteration. Now, keeping that in mind, you might wonder how the Vanguard, the ones who are accountable for the most Antithesis kills, manage against such large numbers. The truth is, for them, the form to which they¡¯re born isn¡¯t the end. Additional limbs, cybernetic upgrades, or even just exoskeletal augmentations. The variations are innumerable, but the essence of it all is that the Vanguard learn quickly that being human isn¡¯t enough. So, they become more.¡± --Essay by Professor Vernes of the French Acad¨¦mie des Sciences Extra-Terrestre, May 2032 *** I had to strip down from my jacket, shirt and bra to put on my newest piece of gear. Even then, it was a little bulky and cumbersome to put on, but, on twisting around to see the reflection of my back in a glass, it was totally worth it. The Hydra Autonomous Targeting Mount was a long, sleek piece of blue metal with overlapping plates that ran all the way from the small of my back to the base of my neck, with two little arms fitting over my collar. It even had faint pinkish lights glowing from between each plate. The biggest part over it were two curved bits over my shoulder plates. It stuck to my back, warm and not-quite-wet, each articulated joint pressed close to me and moving with the shifting of my spine and hips. It would make wearing a shirt a pinch awkward, so I left the tattered remains of my t-shirt on the floor and slid my auto-loader jacket on instead. The Hydra raised the two boxy parts up as I put my jacket on, then lowered them back down over the jacket, two little arms sneaking out from just behind my neck to hold everything in place. ¡°Right, how does this work?¡± I asked. It has already synced with your targeting software. Bring a weapon to a point five centimeters above your shoulder. I zipped up my jacket, then pulled out my Trench Maker and held it over my shoulder. The box over my right shoulder blade unfolded a little arm reached up and grabbed the gun¡¯s grip in a pair of clamps while a smaller, more articulate tendril gripped onto the trigger. There was a little camera set up tied to the arms, no doubt meant to aim. ¡°Cool,¡± I said. I looked around, and the Trench Maker moved with the motions. Aiming where I was looking. The software has a target designation system that allows it to pick targets based on a priority system. I would suggest buying a pair of guns specifically made for the articulated system. While it can use standard arms, it isn¡¯t as efficient or as accurate. ¡°Alright,¡± I said as I reached up. The arm deposited the Trench Marker in my hand, then folded itself away in less time than it took to blink. It was really fucking cool. ¡°What kind of guns do you have for these babies?¡± I was really digging having three arms. It was better than my usual one. Seeing as how you still have a decent number of points. Two Model I Lancejets would cost you forty points. They fire gyroscopically stabilized micro-rockets, which means little recoil and decent accuracy. They use drum magazines with sixty rounds each that can be magnetically attached to your mounting along your back for rapid reloading. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°Do they explode or light things on fire?¡± I asked. ... That could cost you more per magazine, but it can be arranged. I nodded, a stupid grin pulling at my lips. ¡°Nice. We¡¯ve been kind of wasting time. Let¡¯s buy the toys and hurry off.¡± How many extra magazines? ¡°How many can I fit?¡± I asked as I ran my hand over my back. Feeling cold metal there was a bit strange. ¡°Is this thing armoured?¡± A little. And you can fit eight. They¡¯ll cost three points each. ¡°Do it.¡± New Purchase: Lancejet Model I. Two units. Points reduced to...116 New Purchase: Magazine of High Explosive Flechettes. Eight Units Points reduced to... 92 A case appeared at my feet instead of the usual cheap box. For a moment I wondered if I¡¯d gotten the wrong package, but opening the case revealed two boxy gun-like things, and eight cylindrical magazines with flattened sides next to them. I picked one of the magazines up, then tried bringing it over my shoulder. The mounting behind my back unfolded and snapped the magazine away, then slotted it against one of the plates over my back. ¡°Alright,¡± I said as I started passing the device all of the magazines one-by-one. Then I handed over the gun. The little boxy arms slid into the bottom of the gun, then locked in place with the zip of a drill spinning up. The gun twisted this way and that, then came to a hover over my shoulder. I was grinning as I picked up the second one and moved it over my other shoulder. ¡°They can reload themselves?¡± I asked. Of course. I could get used to getting all of these toys. ¡°Right, let¡¯s move on,¡± I said as I pushed the case aside. Having two guns the size of one of those energy-drink cans twitching next to my head was a little strange, it kept making me look to the side whenever it slipped into my vision, but it was also damned cool, so I wasn¡¯t going to complain. I moved on, feeling a little more confident in my step. I still had some points to spend, but not all that much time to spend them in. Maybe if I was going to be stuck here after the others left.. I set that thought aside. That little burning kernel of betrayal I felt was entirely misplaced. The next stairwell up had me reaching the museum proper. It was a little strange stepping back into the same corridor where we¡¯d hidden in the vault. Less strange was seeing well over a dozen Model Ones pecking at the bodies we¡¯d left behind, Antithesis or human. I pulled back around a corner and grit my teeth. ¡°How do I fire these things?¡± I asked. Use your new sensor. Look to the corner with the targeting reticule, then let the system pick out its targets. Saying ¡®fire¡¯ will do the obvious. I can also control parts of it for you, if you¡¯re otherwise too busy. I looked around until I spotted the symbol in a corner of my vision. Looking at it for just a moment made the projected screen before me glow a faint pinkish colour. The moment I poked my head around the corner little red dots appeared on all of the Model Ones. I stepped out from cover. ¡°Fire.¡± Chapter Thirty-Eight - Flesh Melter Chapter Thirty-Eight - Flesh Melter ¡°Are you a true blue American? Are you a red-blooded patriot? Do you want to see those roach bastards take over this fine country, steal your children and enslave humanity? If you want to help real Americans, then buy Samurai Bonds today! A certain percentage of every bond purchased will go directly into the pockets of America¡¯s heroes!¡± --Propaganda from the United States of Kentucky, Texas and Oklahoma, Late 2035 *** I pulled out my Trench Maker, just in case. It wasn¡¯t needed in the end. The two guns hovering close to my head both twitched, each picking out a target at the far end of the flock of black-green birds. Two flechettes flew out of the guns with shots that sounded more like a pneumatic hose being disconnected than an actual gunshot. The birds exploded in a mess of feathers and gore. Just as the Model Ones started to react, the guns twitched, picked out new targets and fired again. There was nearly half a second between picking out a new target and firing. It wasn¡¯t a big enough delay for the Model Ones to do anything. I watched the pile of black bodies on the ground, some of the smoking where the explosive flechettes had burned fist-sized holes into their little bodies. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. I trust the display is satisfactory enough? ¡°Best hundred-odd points I¡¯ve ever spent,¡± I said. And it was. If that was the kind of firepower I could get for just shy of a hundred points, I couldn¡¯t imagine what kind of stuff old Samurai got to play with after a year or two. Targets Eliminated! Reward... 14 Points! I shrugged. It was something. I wouldn¡¯t refuse them. ¡°Myalis, I need something to burn those bodies with,¡± I said. It¡¯s a fairly common practice with higher-tier Vanguard to attempt to starve out a fledgling hive. There are a few items in your Esoteric Single-Use Explosive Devices catalogue that would do the job. I would suggest a Mark I Flesh Melter. They cost three points. Very slow-acting, and more of a utility than a proper weapon. ¡°Sure, why not.¡± New Purchase: Mark I Flesh Melter Points reduced to... 103 The Flesh Melter Mark I looked like a soda can. It had a pop tab at the top and the name and model number on the side in etched numbers. I popped the top and tossed it into the room, then ducked to the side where a wall would cover me. A lot of nothing happened. ¡°Um?¡± The Flesh Melter Mark I releases short-lived nanites that find any organic materials and break them apart. I would advise not stepping within ten meters of the deployment range of the grenade. I shuddered and thanked the stars that I had ducked to the side I had to walk down and not the other, otherwise I would have had to cross the opening. ¡°Myalis?¡± Yes, Catherine? ¡°Next time you give me something so stupidly dangerous, please tell me.¡± The majority of your purchases so far have been exceedingly lethal to anyone with a standard human physiology. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Yeah, but they¡¯re not flesh eating nanites,¡± I said. I shivered again and moved away from the vault. The museum had turned into something of a mess in the hour or two since I¡¯d left. Just thinking that it had only been a little bit since I¡¯d been pinned under a pole in this room left me with a queasy feeling in my gut. I shook my head and set that aside too. The room¡¯s glass-lined ceiling was cracked and defaced in a few more spots. Water was dripping down from a dozen rents in the glass, and a deluge was pouring in from the hole where the pod had crashed at the far end. The constant hum of rain pelting onto the roof warred with the jingles and announcements from three dozen interactive displays that had probably been looping this entire time. I licked my lips and stayed near the entrance, eye panning this way and that while the guns at my sides scanned across the room. ¡°So, big old AA gun on the roof,¡± I said. ¡°Which means we need to get to the roof.¡± I would advise finding the interior access. While climbing to the roof from the exterior is possible, you would present a rather obvious, and tantalizing, target to any flying Antithesis. While Model One A¡¯s are easy to ward off, the larger specimen of the Model One can be a much larger threat. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°So if I were a roof-access... thing, where would I hide?¡± I started to cross the room, aiming for the entrance where I could vaguely recall there being a room behind the greeter android. Something shifted to the side. I turned to look, a hand reaching up for my gun in the same moment that something big and black burst out from a display showing off a long black trench coat draped over a mannequin. A Model Three, one of its rear legs crushed and crippled, its eyes locked onto me, its mouth opening wide. I fumbled to grab my gun properly and find the trigger. And then the guns hanging off my back opened fire, one from just behind me, the other from atop my head where it had stretched out to get a better angle. The Model Three shook and trembled as a dozen projectiles burrowed into it. Then it burst apart and the alien slumped to the ground while bits of its flesh and blood rained down around me. ¡°Fuck.¡± Are you well? ¡°Yeah, yeah I¡¯m fine.¡± I said. ¡°Just, nearly pissed myself is all.¡± Please don¡¯t do that, it would be embarrassing. ¡°Shut up,¡± I said with no energy behind it. Target Eliminated Rewards... 10 Points Now Total: 113 Points Well, at least there was that. I swallowed and continued making my way ahead, though this time at a much slower, more even pace. Every twitch and moving object in my periphery had me jumping until I took a moment to settle down. The android at the front, the one that had pissed me off so much, wasn¡¯t in the best shape. Something had plucked out its eyes and nipped at its plastic-y skin until it peeled off to reveal the hard-plastic shell beneath. I scrunched up my nose and vaulted over the counter, and with a final glance over my shoulder, moved into the bowels of the museum. Chapter Thirty-Nine - Long Odds Chapter Thirty-Nine - Long Odds ¡°There are all sorts of systems to determine the worth of a Samurai. The internet has many of these, from ranks based on popularity, to scales of theoretical power. The governments of the world have their own. These generally go from Tier One to Five, with a Tier One being a Samurai that can be used by the government, and a Tier Five being one capable of demolishing that same group. Most corporations have adopted a much simpler ¡®Phase¡¯ system that goes from A to C, with the occasional ¡®D.¡¯¡± --Excerpt from ¡®Understanding the Unknowable,¡¯ A 2049 textbook. *** The door had a great big ¡®Employees Only¡¯ sign across it. That part was easy to ignore. What wasn¡¯t was the heavy lock holding the door shut. I sighed and pulled my Trench Maker out from its holster, then backed up a couple of steps. I pinched my tongue between my lips and aimed down the sights atop the gun until it was nice and lined up. The .45 round tore a dollar-coin sized hole in the lock, a hole that glowed red and started to melt around the edges. A quick kick shoved the door open. ¡°Man, I love these bullets,¡± I said as I looked into the next room over. There are plenty of interesting types of ammunition that might interest you. I¡¯ll earmark a few for future testing. ¡°Cool,¡± I said. I was actually looking forward to it. ¡°And maybe... maybe I could use an arm.¡± I¡¯m surprised it took you this long to ask. Your missing arm and eye are something of a hindrance. ¡°Yeah well, whatever,¡± I said. We¡¯ll find you a good one. Though I think that, in this case, you might want to invest in something of decently high quality. Perhaps a Class II prosthetic once you obtain the points and tokens to unlock that kind of catalogue. ¡°Tokens?¡± that was new. Unlocking a Class I catalogue is simple, and a Vanguard can go very far just by unlocking a number of these. But Class II and onwards have technologies that are beyond humanity¡¯s current capability to reproduce. They are commensurately more expensive, and each catalogue requires a number of tokens to be unlocked. Think of them as signs that you¡¯ve saved enough humans to earn technologies that could potentially endanger your entire race. That sounded like a shitty gimmick, and at the same time made some sense. Giving the crazies nukes was never a good idea. ¡°Class I is good for smaller things, right?¡± It¡¯s more than sufficient, I think, for most of the challenges you¡¯ll face. I would suggest aiming for Class II equipment in any field you truly want to specialize in. A new arm, for example, will not need to be replaced as frequently if the first one you purchase is of high enough quality. ¡°Right, right,¡± I said. The ¡®employee only¡¯ area was a bit of a crapshoot. There were boxes lining the sides of the corridor, probably with stuff for the museum, and I passed a little warehouse area with large industrial shelves packed with crap that I didn¡¯t think was terribly important. And then I found another locked door. This one was thicker, with a whole lot more warning signs on it. And in its centre, next to a symbol that warned that anyone passing the door without authorization would be fined, was a large logo. ¡°Longbow Industrial Weapons Technologies,¡± I read. ¡°That sounds promising.¡± The security around the door is Vanguard built. I looked to the side where a flat stainless-steel panel rested next to the door. ¡°Think you can break in for me?¡± I¡¯m afraid not. But I can knock. ¡°Knock?¡± I asked The system is linked to a distant server, which is in turn linked to one of my siblings. I cannot ask them to open the door, but I can establish a connection to their Vanguard. If they want it. ¡°Alright?¡± I said. Establishing! And done! ¡°Now what?¡± I asked before looking around. ¡°Can I shoot the door off its hinges yet?¡± ¡°That¡¯d be a bit rude.¡± I snapped around to stare at where the voice came from. The panel next to the door had shifted, revealing an image of a man sitting in a darkened room filled with yellow-orange lights that shone down on a mixture of huge computers and shelves with little figurines. Stolen novel; please report. The man himself was, without a doubt, a samurai. Every part of his face from the nose up was hidden behind a visor that looked like a flat steel plate with inset lights. He was leaning back into one of those ¡®gamer¡¯ seats, one hand out of the screen, but the other was fiddling with a lit cigarette. ¡°The fuck are you?¡± I asked. The man grinned. ¡°Calm your tits, sis, I¡¯m big bro Longbow.¡± He gestured in my direction with his cigarette. ¡°You¡¯re the one who knocked. What¡¯s up? I don¡¯t recognize you. Also, what happened to your face?¡± ¡°I¡¯m.. Cat,¡± I said. Then I glared for good measure. ¡°And my face got blown up a bit. Took my eye and arm.¡± ¡°Nah. There¡¯s like, three cats already¡± he said. ¡°Sorry little sis, that one¡¯s taken.¡± He pulled something from the side and a large keyboard slid into view atop a sort of gantry. He stuffed his cigarette in his mouth, then his hands burst apart into a panoply of smaller mechanized fingers that stabbed into the board faster than I could see. ¡°Hrm, middle of an incursion huh? Oh, you¡¯re not a cat, you¡¯re a kitten. That name¡¯s not taken if you want. Also, check out class one bio sculpting. You¡¯ll look better in no time.¡± ¡°Fuck no,¡± I said to both. ¡°Right, well, find something before the trolls give you a name is my advice. So, why¡¯d you call? I am a bit busy you know?¡± ¡°I¡¯m...¡± I shook my head. This was beyond strange. Samurai were supposed to be... big. Like celebrities. Above the normal masses. And this skinny guy sitting god knows where was just... chill. ¡°I¡¯m new. Really new,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m trying to get my friends out of this building, we wanted to turn on the AA on the roof, use it as a distraction to get out of here.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± Longbow said. ¡°Right, right, I can see. You know, that AA system is like, thirty-kay points.¡± My heart sank. ¡°You owe me a drink one of these days, alright.¡± ¡°What?¡± He tilted his head a little. ¡°What what?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll turn it on?¡± I asked. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s that or let ya die or whatever, so yeah. It¡¯ll make a few points before the bugs get to it and munch it up, I¡¯m sure. Damn thing has been a point sink anyway.¡± I swallowed. That was... generous. ¡°Thanks?¡± I tried. ¡°No problem sis. Oh, how about Stray Cat? It¡¯s free.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Your name. I mean, you could go with your birth name, but that¡¯s uncool.¡± ¡°I guess?¡± I tried. He grinned while a third arm moved from off screen and pulled his cigarette out of his mouth. ¡°I¡¯m running a quick diagnostic to mak-- ah, fuck me sideways.¡± He shook his head, and I had the impression he would have been frowning if he could. ¡°Right, bit of a problem, sis.¡± ¡°What?¡± I asked. Was this the other shoe? ¡°You can¡¯t turn it on?¡± ¡°Oh, sure I can. But the doors above it aren¡¯t opening. Give me a sec, I¡¯m looking for a camera around the city that has a view... and... there¡¯s a hovercar parked on the roof? What a dipshit. There¡¯s yellow-tape an¡¯ all. For fuck¡¯s sake.¡± ¡°Seriously?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah. Lemme see if I can take remote control of it, move it off the top.¡± Longbow shifted to the side and a fourth arm brought a drink closer to his mouth, a fancy thing, with a little straw and a no-shit umbrella in it. ¡°Hrm, car¡¯s fucked.¡± He looked by towards the screen. ¡°Think you can get up there and boot it out of the way?¡± ¡°And then you¡¯ll activate it?¡± I asked. ¡°Sure thing, sis. Uh, you got a way to fly back down to your buddies?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Well, looks like you¡¯ll be stuck on the roof. No problem. I¡¯m going to pop the door open. There¡¯s a door to another roof access. You go over, chuck the car off the side, blow it up, whatever, and I¡¯ll turn on the AA. Then you get your ass into cover and wait for the cavalry, alright?¡± ¡°And my friends?¡± I asked. Longbow smiled. ¡°Nothing to worry about, sis. Big bro Longbow will take care of everything.¡± *** Chapter Forty - Rooftop Chapter Forty - Rooftop ¡°The Samurai have developed a sort of community among themselves. At a first glance, this seems perfectly reasonable. A more experienced Samurai might have a lot to teach to one that¡¯s new, and while they are competing for the same resources, those resources are the sorts to get out of hand if not taken care of in a timely manner. Older, more powerful Samurai won¡¯t usually begrudge the newer ones taking their share of the workload. The truth though, is a lot more complicated than that, and quite a bit darker.¡± --Professor Stephenson, Boston University, Late 2039 *** The room with the AA gun was... something else. I¡¯d seen some high-tech looking places on my media feeds, of course. Who hadn¡¯t? But stepping past the door next to Longbow¡¯s screen was like walking into another world. The walls were covered in computers and gantries and little machines that were all hovering, literally, around a machine in the centre. The thing in the centre had a large glass dome built into its front covering two dozen camera and sensor-looking things. Two long forked cannons pointed ahead next to it. Railguns, if I had to guess. Beneath those were a pair of gatling cannons with barrels as big around as my wrist. There were more guns around it, smaller ones mounted on arms that looked like they could point in any direction. It was like looking at the physical manifestation of overkill. And it was stuck here, completely useless. I wondered how many aliens the thing could have killed if it had been deployed at the start of the incursion. ¡°When do I get to play with something like that?¡± I asked. Most of the loading and repair systems are Class I. The railguns are Class II, the gatling guns are Class I. Longbow¡¯s assertion that this cost approximately thirty-thousand points wasn¡¯t wrong. There are a lot of smaller parts from a variety of catalogues here. I suspect it will take you some weeks to be able to afford something like this if you did nothing but focus on it to the detriment of all else. Damn. ¡°Right. I can salivate over Longbow¡¯s toys later.¡± ¡°Can I keep a recording of you saying that?¡± Longbow¡¯s voice said across the room. I jumped about a foot in the air. ¡°And a recording of you jumping just there?¡± he replied with a laugh. ¡°Fucking hell,¡± I said as I looked around. ¡°Where are you?¡¯ ¡°California, I have a nice penthouse here. But if you mean where in the room, there are a dozen speakers and some mics here and there.¡± I shook my head. ¡°I swear, if I find a vid online of my saying anything like that, I¡¯ll find you, and then I¡¯ll kick your ass.¡± Longbow laughed. ¡°Right, right. Fair enough. I wouldn¡¯t wanna ruin your rep so soon anyway. Roof access is at the back. Do you have anything to move the car?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got bombs?¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯ll do! Good luck, Stray Kitty!¡± The speakers shut off with a clunk before I had time to tell him off for being an ass. He wasn¡¯t all that bad a guy, which just made it harder to be pissed at him. ¡°Are all Samurai like that?¡± I asked. Of course not. All Vanguard are quite unique. Though the criteria by which a Vanguard is chosen does mean that they will usually be amicable towards others like them. There are entire communities of Vanguard who work closely together. ¡°Cute,¡± I said. You don¡¯t have to join any of those, of course. More than half of all Vanguard work on their own while still keeping in contact with others. The ¡®lone wolf¡¯ is rather common among the chosen. I found the roof access at the back, just like Longbow had said I would. It was a heavy door, with a wheel in its centre that I had to press all of my weight against to turn. The moment I opened it I was slapped in the face by a torrent of rainwater. I screwed my eye shut and barred my teeth for a moment before glaring outside. The door led right onto a little section of the roof with waist-high rails around it and what might have been a great view beyond that if I could see more than ten paces ahead. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°Do I have glasses available? Or a hat?¡± I asked. Not in any of your current catalogues, no. Sorry. ¡°God damn,¡± I said. I yanked my hair back and tied it in a quick bun, which was always a pain to do one-handed, but it would keep it out of my face. I grit my teeth and jumped out, shoes splashing on the floor a moment before I pulled the door shut behind me. ¡°All this stuff had better be waterproof,¡± I said. No worries. All of your equipment should be fine in this weather. I would advise against catching a cold though. I nodded, then tore my mask off. It was annoying already, but wet it just became a pain in the ass to deal with. The landing had access to a little parking lot, the sort where VIPs could park their Maserati for maximum visibility, and a little staircase that led up to another, higher section of the roof. That¡¯s where the AA gun¡¯s platform was, so that¡¯s where I went. The stainless-steel steps clunked underfoot as I moved up and onto the taller roof, then I kept low as I looked around. No aliens. At least, none on the roof directly. I could see flocks of them flying off in the distance, but they weren¡¯t an immediate concern. The car sitting on its side atop the slightly-raised lip of the gun position was. I was expecting some sleek hovercar left behind by some douchebag, but the hovercar was more of a hover soccer-mom van, and one in bad need of a bit of fixing up. The front end was crumpled against a cement post poking out around the edges of the moving part of the platform. There had been some guardrails around it, but the hovervan had torn most of those off. Still low, I moved around and towards the driver¡¯s side. The airbag had gone off at some point, and someone managed to pry the door open. The bit of blood on the pleather seat didn¡¯t hint at any good news for the driver. The back of the van was filled with discarded toys and the kind of accumulated crap that kids tended to grow around them like some sort of fungal infection. ¡°There¡¯s no driving this thing off,¡± I said. Do you know how to drive? ¡°Can¡¯t be that complicated,¡± I said. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t matter. This one¡¯s fucked.¡± I looked around for an easy way to move the car out of the way, but there wasn¡¯t a convenient crane or forklift just sitting there waiting for me. ¡°We¡¯re going to need to get creative. Or explosive.¡± A concussion grenade might push the vehicle off the top. ¡°Hrm. Sounds noisy though,¡± I said. I moved to the back of the van. The bumper there was buckled out, and I could see one of the pipes that probably served as a frame or whatever where the plastic body was torn out. That... gave me an idea. ¡°Can I get some rope?¡± I asked. Not with your current catalogues. ¡°That garrot grenade had some rope though,¡± I said. You could buy one and undo the rope quite easily, yes. It¡¯s more of a ribbon, but it¡¯s not special, and the way it''s designed should allow you to unwind it without any danger. What are you thinking? ¡°I¡¯ll need something heavy.¡± I eyeballed the distance between the van and the edge of the roof. Fifteen meters, give or take. For five points you could purchase an Artificial Mass Ball. It''s a single use item from your Esoteric Single-Use Explosive Devices catalogue. It makes itself and the things around it extremely heavy for a moment before combusting. It¡¯s rather niche. ¡°How strong is the, uh, strength of the rope bits? You know, when you pull it from both ends?¡± Tensile is the word you¡¯re looking for. And it¡¯s a chain of interlocking graphene blades. It¡¯s more than strong enough to do what you seem to be thinking. ¡°Cool. Well, give me one of each, and we¡¯ll try and see how my idea works out.¡± I¡¯m certain there are better ways of moving the car. ¡°Yeah, but my way is fun!¡± Chapter Forty-One - Anti-Air Chapter Forty-One - Anti-Air ¡°Top 10 SUREFIRE Tricks To Stopping Any Aliens From Eating You! Trick One! -Eat lots of avocado and other greens. The Antithesis are actually plants (amazing, right!) and if you eat lots of plants, you¡¯ll give off herbivore hormones that will scare off those nasty aliens! Trick 2! -Keep a lot of matches and candles in your home. If an incursion begins, light them all up. The fire will scare them away. I like using Hapyy? brand scented candles which leave my home smelling vanilla-fresh! Trick 3: -Subscribe to all the latest newsletters and media feeds about the Antithesis, especially the astrological incursion prediction feeds! If you think that there¡¯s going to be one near you, maybe it¡¯s time to use your yearly two-days of vacation time and visit some family elsewhere! Trick four! -Refuse any vaccines your doctor tries to push onto you. They have scent pheromones and chemicals like mercury that attract the Antithesis! [...]¡± -Except from a popular Vlog, 2027 *** ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll work,¡± I said with the tone of someone who was very much not sure it would, in fact, work. In one hand, I had a funky looking grenade that was meant to fuck with gravity, or mass, or whatever. In the other, I had no hand. Your certainty is certainly novel. I do look forward to the results. ¡°That was the cuntiest way of saying ¡®it¡¯s not gonna work¡¯ that I¡¯ve ever heard,¡± I said. The artificial mass grenade had a handy little dial on the side, with tick marks for the number of g¡¯s you could add to it. I flicked the dial to max with my thumb, then wiggled the ribbon tied around it to make sure it was on tight. Fortunately, the grenade was a long cylinder, and was easy to tie to something. The cord dropped to the ground, passed underfoot, and went all the way over to the car where it was wrapped around the rear bits of the frame. I figured if it was good enough for Bugs Bunny, it was good enough for me. I flicked on the mass grenade and tossed it off the side of the roof. Then, because I wasn¡¯t a brain-dead moron, I ran off to the side and hopped over the railing next to the stairs leading to the roof access. The line went taut for a moment. I knelt down and waited with baited breath. If the grenade made any noise on activating, it was too far away for me to hear it, but the van jerked on the spot, its undercarriage, with its hover lifting bits and all, scraped across the corrugated steel cover. It stopped for a moment. ¡°For fuc-- The van rushed backwards a dozen feet, rammed against one of the poles lining the area around the hatch, then started to strain, the rope pulling it hard enough that its front started to lift into the air. ¡°Alright!¡± I said. Then the rear part of the van, bumper and all, flew off with a crack and took off over the edge. I lowered my arm from where I had raised it to cheer, then winced as the front of the van crashed back down. ¡°Fuck.¡± INCOMING CALL FROM... BIG BROTHER LONGBOW I jumped as the words flashed into my vision. It only took a bit for my heart to settle. ¡°Answer,¡± I said. My vision split, a box hovering to the side filled with a cackling Longbow who was clutching at his stomach. ¡°You should have seen your face! No, wait, lemme show you.¡± His image was replaced by one of me, crouching next to a railing, dark hair plastered to my scalp. My arm was raised in cheer, but my eye was wide in disappointed horror. ¡°Can I post this on the Samurai subs? I¡¯m posting this on the Samurai subs.¡± ¡°I will fucking murder you,¡± I said. Longbow laughed even harder. ¡°Nah. Tell you what, I¡¯ll only post it on the private channels. Samurai-only.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± I said. ¡°Too late!¡± he said with a shit eating grin. ¡°My little sister¡¯s first meme! They grow up so fast! Now, think you can blast that thing off? I mean, what you tried was cute. A-plus for trying. But you can just blow it up. My guns can take a bit of a beating.¡± I cursed the man¡¯s stupid name, but maybe he had a point. ¡°Incoming, by the way,¡± he said. ¡°Huh?¡± I looked to the air and saw a flock of creatures flapping their way closer. I wasn¡¯t a betting girl, but I would place good odds that they weren¡¯t pigeons. My little tactical visor, which was working hard not to go too fuzzy when rain ran across its projectors, lit up the incoming birds with dozens of red points. ¡°Fuck. Myalis, set my guns to fire at will. And I need a bomb!¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The two guns hovering behind me snapped around and, after giving the Model Ones a few seconds to get closer, opened up with a stream of whistling flechette rounds. Might I suggest a Mark I Concussion Grenade? You might need to find cover before it goes off, but slipping back into the roof access area should be sufficient. They¡¯re merely five points each. ¡°That¡¯ll do,¡± I said. I opened my hand before me and caught the grenade that fell into it. Of all the neat explosives I¡¯d played with, this one was the most traditional-looking. I tugged the pin out, let the bar thing fly out, then tossed it under hand over to the van. It rolled to a rest just within its shadow. I turned and rushed down the stairs, mindful of the still-firing guns atop my shoulders, then dipped into the opening that led into Longbow¡¯s AA gun¡¯s storage area. My guns stopped firing. Both of them twisted around and a pair of smoking magazines clunked to the ground next to me before the arms retracted and I felt a pair of fresh ones near my hips being pulled out. I didn¡¯t spend time marvelling at that. Instead I closed the door shut and prayed that one grenade wasn¡¯t enough to collapse the entire shithole building. A loud ¡®whump¡¯ sounded out from above, the floor trembled, and for just a moment, the rain ceased before it all came back down. ¡°Good job sis,¡± Longbow said. ¡°Might wanna call your friends. And if you don¡¯t mind, keep an eye on my AA gun, yeah? It¡¯s got a few blind spots. Told the architects about it, but the owners of the building really wanted a VIP parking lot.¡± Something deeper in the room moved. Poking my head around the corner showed the AA gun slowly rising, the ceiling above splitting apart to let in a deluge of rain that sloughed off the sides of the weapon¡¯s platform. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°And then I''ll go back down, I guess.¡± ¡°Nah, I told you. Cavalry¡¯s coming. You just hang on tight, okay?¡± ¡°Not in the habit of trusting weird guys who call me without me having given them my number,¡± I said. ¡°Ouch, you hurt me,¡± he said while tapping at the middle of his chest. ¡°Right here in my primary cardiovascular sub-system.¡± I rolled my eye and yanked the radio Simmons had given me out of my pocket just as the AA gun¡¯s gatling guns started to spin up. The noise a moment later was enough to have me wincing back, it was like having a pair of chainsaws chopping through sheets of tin. Bullet casings, each as long as my hand from wrist to middle-finger, thumped onto the floor in a rain of brass. I yanked the door to the outside open, then stepped out and slammed it shut behind me. The gunfire was still loud, and now there was the drum of rain on the roof, but it wasn¡¯t quite as loud as inside. The radio connected to Simmons with a beep. ¡°Samurai?¡± he asked. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s me. The gun works!¡± I screamed. ¡°I can tell. The doors are opening and the busses are heading out... thank you.¡± ¡°Yeah... yeah, you¡¯re welcome old man. See you on the other side!¡± ¡°You too, ma¡¯am.¡± The line cut off. I pocketed the radio. ¡°That was cute. ETA for your evac is, like, five minutes or so? Depends on whether she believes me or not, really. Anyway, you keep the low-flying bastards off my rig, alright? Maybe get a few points while you¡¯re at it so you can buy yourself a shirt.¡± I glared ahead of me, then nodded. ¡°Yeah, okay. Thanks Longbow.¡± His grin widened. ¡°No problem sis. Remember, you owe me a drink!¡± The call went dead. A peek over the edge of the roof showed the huge AA emplacement twisting this way and that, lines of displaced rain cutting through the sky and ending at whichever alien was dumb enough to poke its head out. The thing had to be firing hundreds of rounds a second, and its bigger cannons weren¡¯t even going off yet. I heard the tell-tale whine of hovercar traffic and jogged to the edge of the roof. A dozen busses, all of them gathered together in a big lump, were racing out of the museum¡¯s lower floors and towards the far, and hopefully safer, end of the city. They weren¡¯t uncontested though. I saw flocks of Model Ones poking out and flying off towards them. They were too low for the AA gun to target. ¡°Myalis,¡± I said. Targeting now. At these ranges, you¡¯ll be wasting a lot of ammunition for every hit. ¡°Who the fuck cares!¡± I didn¡¯t think you would. Opening fire now. Oh, and if you would be so kind as to drop to a knee and stop fidgeting for a moment, that would help. Chapter Forty-Two - Back Against the Wall Chapter Forty-Two - Back Against the Wall ¡°You want to see a Samurai improve real fast and go from a non-threat to one scary motherfuck? Put their back against a wall and place an entire army of enemies before them. If they¡¯re not dead within the first few minutes, then whatever they¡¯re up against is right fucked.¡± --Extract from an interview with AussieMan, August 2041 *** Seeing the tiny black forms of the Model Ones around the busses with all of my friends--with Lucy and the kittens aboard--fall out of the sky like autumn leaves was like lifting a weight off of my shoulder. The busses soon passed out of my range of sight, still hounded by a few flyers, but they were hovering over the faint outline of a barricade built across a distant street, with brightly glowing red flares marking safety, and a pile of wayward Antithesis proving that the safety was real. My guns went quiet. You have a few moments to purchase some things, I think. The AA gun will be attracting a lot of attention. By the way, here¡¯s your new point total... Targets Eliminated! Reward... 94 Points New Total: 207 That was a fair amount of points. I knew exactly what I wanted to buy. ¡°Myalis. I need earmuffs.¡± I see. Do you need literal earmuffs, or would any sound suppression system work? ¡°I want my ears to work tomorrow morning,¡± I said. Forgive me, I didn¡¯t think it was that big an issue. Combat Sonic Suppressors cost ten points for a pair. They should protect your hearing without impeding it. ¡°Please,¡± I asked while bringing my empty hand up. A box hit my palm with a satisfying smack. I was getting used to the whole teleporting boxes thing. New Purchase: Combat Sonic Suppressors Mark I Points Reduced to... 197 Popping the lid revealed two dark blue disks, the same colour as the armoured bits of my spinal mounting, with parts of the metal case cut away to allow a faint pinkish glow to escape. ¡°What¡¯s with the glowing?¡± I asked. I changed the design somewhat to better match your other equipment. Vanguards tend to put a lot of stock in their gear looking like it is worth a lot, regardless of its actual value. Now I felt as if admitting that they looked cool would make me sound vain. I placed the box down, took out one of the two padded disks out of it, and pressed it against my ear after moving a few loose strands of hair out of the way. It stuck on fast. The other went on the opposite side. I turned this way and that and... couldn¡¯t hear any difference. They block all sound and absorb a fair amount of inaudible vibrations, then recreate those same sounds using an array of over two hundred micro-speakers inside the disk. Any sound at a level that could harm you is suppressed. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. It might have been because I was paying attention to my hearing, or it might have been dumb chance, but something had me turning around and looking down the side of the building. I had never had the good sense to develop a proper fear of heights, so hanging off the side of a sheer drop of twelve floors didn¡¯t set my heart racing. Seeing dozens of monsters crawling up the side of the building on the other hand, that had my heart jumping to my throat. They were Model Fours, with long tentacles that grabbed at any crevice in the walls and whose wide, padded feet were clinging on like some sort of geckos. ¡°Oh, shit,¡± I said as I whipped out my Trench Maker. The nearest was three or so floors down, but was climbing pretty damned fast. I punched a burning hole into the mass of tentacles at its front. They are probably attracted by the sound of the AA gun. They are rather out in the open though, and should be easy enough to eliminate. A point farming opportunity! I was aiming at the third Model Four down when the guns on my back shifted around and sprayed flechettes at something next to me. I jumped back from the edge and twisted around in time to see a trio of Model Ones flop onto the ground, very dead. I suspect that some higher-tier Model has spotted the hole in the defences. You might have to prepare to fight off a number of Model Ones and potentially some Model Twos. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. And that was on top of the clever fucks trying to scale the walls. This day was a roller coaster of crappy twists and turns. I was moving towards the other corner of the building to see if there were more Model Fours coming up from there when a flock of Model Ones burst over the edge. Some flew too high and were immediately mowed apart by the AA gun¡¯s twing gatling guns, but a few dipped low enough that they were able to skirt the edge of the roof. They flew past me, heading towards the gun emplacement. I was pretty sure the smaller guns set on the AA gun were meant to act as some sort of point-defence, but there were only a few of those and a lot of Model Ones still. My back-mounted guns opened up on the birds, tearing apart the flock in the time it took to blink. Still, that was just one smaller group. I rushed to the edge and looked down just as a couple of tentacles slapped onto the edge of the roof and started to pull up a Model Four. I planted a pair of bullets centre of mass and watched it bump into another Model Four on the way down. Setting my legs on a V, I aimed down the side of the building and emptied my magazine into the xenos crawling up the side. At the rate they were coming, I was going to run out of bullets before they ran out of bodies to throw at me. ¡°Tch,¡± I spat before pulling back and away from the edge. The last thing I needed was for an errant gust of wind of a shift in the rainfall to fling me off the side. Why the fuck weren¡¯t there any rails? I shoved my gun back into its holster to let it reload and moved back towards the AA gun. I couldn¡¯t just run at the enemy all day, I¡¯d need to let them come to me. I made my stand next to the AA gun, back against a cement pillar that rose a few feet off the ground. Every minute that passed had more Model Fours crawling up onto the edge of the roof. Some stepped right into the range of the AA gun and were instantly pulped, but a few got lucky and came up behind AC units and from the lower sections of the roof. There were more of them coming up too, they were clever, in their own suicidal lemming sort of way. Avoiding the spots where others had been torn up, and finding a path closer using the bodies of those that came before as a sort of guide on where not to stand. Not that I made their life easy. Every flock of Model Ones coming in from a dead angle to the AA gun was met with a round of flechettes to the face, and the bigger bastards got to play with the inferno spat out of my Trench Maker. ¡°Myalis, Resonator!¡± I called out as a group of Model Fours took to hiding behind some sort of junction box. The bastards were picking up bits and pieces of dead aliens and flinging them my way. Most got torn out of the air by the AA gun, but that cost it a few rounds every time, and I doubted it had infinite bullets to spend. I stuffed my Trench Maker away just in time to catch and activate a grenade that I caught out of thin air. A press of the tab and an underhand throw later, and the Model Fours were melting out of their cover. I felt at my back for the ammo I had left and winced. ¡°Myallis, I¡¯m going to need some refills.¡± I¡¯m on it. Do you think you can find cover? ¡°Yeah,¡± I said as I moved to one of the same AC the aliens had been using for cover. One restock later and I was back at it. I was probably racking up the points like mad, but it didn¡¯t matter overmuch, not with the growing swarms of enemies coming at me. Soon the flechette guns on my shoulders were only pausing to reload and my Trench Maker was growing warm to the touch as I fired non-stop into a tide of enemies. At the rate it was going I would either beat off the incursion from this roof all on my own, or I¡¯d have enough points to just fuck off all on my own. Or maybe the AA guns would stop firing at all between one moment and the next at the same time as my vision flashed. INCOMING CALL FROM... BIG BROTHER LONGBOW. ¡°Sis, you might want to find cover. My gun¡¯s supply of cannon rounds was way lower than it should have been. Some fuckwit skimmed off the top. I¡¯m going to need to start using the railguns, and you can¡¯t be around when that happens.¡± Chapter Forty-Three - Armed

Chapter Forty-Three - Armed ¡°You can tell how experienced any given Samurai is by how human they look. If they could be any john or jane doe off the street, then they¡¯re probably still green. If they¡¯ve replaced a few bits, then they¡¯ve been around for a bit. When you can¡¯t tell if they were ever human to begin with, then you need to start worrying, because it might not just be their appearance that¡¯s changed.¡± --Jim Harris, Journalist in Chief for BCB International, February 2037 *** I didn¡¯t want to just abandon the AA gun. Not if I could still help it, even a little. Keeping the thing firing, even for a minute, would mean that many more dead xenos. Sure, they would come aground, collect all the alien goop, and just make more. But that would take time and resources, and maybe it would help others just a little. There was also the more selfish reason for trying to help. I wanted those points. I don¡¯t think I was hooked to the system or anything, but I could really use a few hundred extra points. It¡¯s why instead of running deeper into the building to find cover, I went back down to the door on the platform next to the AA emplacement and kept the entrance wide open. It overlooked the spot where the most aliens were sneaking up to the AA gun from. What I did was something like hunting down a flock of ducks by opening fire into the whole lot of them with a gatling gun. Model Ones would swoop up, Model Fours would pull themselves onto the roof, and I would greet them with a barrage of flechettes and incendiary .45s to the face. ¡°Myalis!¡± I called out as I emptied a second and third round into a Model Four that was being tenacious. ¡°I¡¯ve got points to spend.¡± You do indeed! You¡¯ve nearly accumulated a thousand points. What. ¡°Seriously?¡± I asked. That was a frankly insane amount. What was I even supposed to buy with that many? I could probably buy enough guns with that amount to live a comfortable life for the next few years if I sold them all. That was, assuming I survived the next few minutes. I... was probably not the best at handling money, or points. Christ, Lucy would have been a thousand times better than I was at this. ¡°Myalis, I need stuff,¡± I said. I can get you stuff. Where do you want to begin? I looked out of the door, then grimaced as I emptied the last of my magazine into a cheeky Model Four that flung itself over the edge. My shots echoed out into the open air, into a world that had gone quiet. The AA gun had been firing less and less over the last few minutes, conserving the last of its ammo while the smaller guns tied to it acted as point defence. Now it was entirely silent. I shoved my Trench Maker away and pulled the door shut with all of my weight before pressing my back against it. ¡°Myalis,¡± I said. ¡°I need a hand.¡± Do you mean a literal prosthetic or organic replacement for your missing arm, or do you require assistance. If it¡¯s the arm you want, there are a few catalogues that have arms in them. If it¡¯s assistance, then perhaps some remote stealth drones. I blinked. ¡°I meant an arm. I, I think I could handle having two again.¡± Wonderful! I was worried that there might be some psychological reservations against replacing the missing limb. It¡¯s good to see that that was unfounded. It probably wasn¡¯t. The entire day had felt weird, being flung from one disaster to another with only a bit of snark keeping me sane. Getting a new arm, that would be... big. I didn¡¯t have the words for it. Maybe a sort of sign that it was all real? I shook that away, it wasn¡¯t the time to get hung up on shit like that. ¡°Get me a really cool arm,¡± I said. I think my earlier suggestion that you try Class I Sun Watcher Technology. The catalogue costs one hundred and twenty points, and the arm that I think would suit you best costs two hundred points and requires a Sympathetic Neural Uplink Mark II which costs an additional fifty points. ¡°God damn, you¡¯re going for the expensive stuff,¡± I said. All prices are carefully balanced for maximum value. Don¡¯t worry, some very smart AI have made sure that everything is worth its stated value. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. I swallowed. The building shook, a noise like an electrical transformer blowing up zapping out from somewhere just outside. It seems as if the AA system has begun to use its cannons. I suspect that they aren¡¯t meant to take out smaller targets, but they should do so with little difficulty. We will have to hope that Longbow¡¯s AI is clever enough to remind him not to aim in the general direction of any population centres. ¡°The arm, I¡¯ll take it. Please, hurry.¡± I¡¯d get it over with while I had a minute¡¯s calm. Class I Sun Watcher Technology unlocked! Points reduced to... 840 New Purchase: Leopard Mark IV Replacement Arm Points reduced to... 640 New Purchase: Sympathetic Neural Uplink Mark II Points reduced to... 590 Please close your eye for a moment. I didn¡¯t question the AI and screwed my eye shut. It was just in time too as a wave of vertigo hit me and I almost tripped even though I wasn¡¯t moving. Something immediately felt off, as if I was moving my body through water, but it passed within a second or two. ¡°The fuck?¡± The neural uplink functioned! Now for the arm. Please press the base against your arm. ¡°How neural is that neural uplink?¡± I asked. It''s smaller than I am, if that helps. It was dimensionally shifted directly into the folds of your brain above your cerebellum. Don¡¯t worry, such shifts only cause issues in point oh-oh-oh-one percent of all transfers. It will assist you in manipulating your new arm. You might have to adjust for the changed balance, but that shouldn¡¯t take more than a few hours. ¡°Myalis, didn¡¯t I tell you to warn me about shit that fucks with my brain?¡± Not in so many words, no. ¡°Please do so, next time,¡± I said. There was a box by my feet, an arm-length one. I made sure the door was properly locked and bent down just as the building shook again. Popping the lid revealed an arm. But it was more than that, of course. The arm was made of something that looked like brushed aluminum, with sections cut out of it to reveal a faintly glowing interior. There were a lot of openings and little cut-outs on there that looked like they were meant to do something. I pulled it up and looked at the hole where my stump was meant to go. It wasn¡¯t even padded, just a shaped cone that probably fit like a glove. I slid the arm of my jacket off and stared at the burnt mess that was my right arm¡¯s stump. I¡¯d been right-handed, once upon a time. I wondered if it would all come back. The arm slid on, the glowing sections brightened. My new fingers twitched, and I felt them moving. I closed my new hand, and reopened it. A tug at my new metallic bicep pulled at my shoulder instead of popping the arm out like a suction cup. ¡°Nice,¡± I finally decided. The first test of the arm¡¯s agility was putting my jacket back on. It bent far more than a real arm should have been able to, but it didn¡¯t feel wrong. There are a lot of features with the Leopard. It¡¯s built of a high-grade titanium alloy, with incredibly strong servos operating every joint and has quite a few utilitarian features and built in weapons. ¡°I just need something to hold a second gun,¡± I said. I couldn¡¯t keep the laugh out of my voice though. It probably wasn''t the time to be giddy but-- It has a built-in rocket launcher. Fuck it, giddy it was. I passed my flesh and blood hand over my new arm, taking in the overlapping plates of smooth steel and the small ridges that probably hid a bunch of goodies. Your fingertips can act as deployable multitools, except for your index and middle finger which have built-in plasma casters for cutting through... anything, really. I grinned. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to giving someone the finger then.¡± You are the model of hilarity. I snorted at the deadpan delivery. ¡°Right, right, this is fun, but there¡¯s still a lot of xenos out there.¡± I held back a shit-eating grin. ¡°Myalis. I need guns, lots of guns.¡± *** Chapter Forty-Four - Machina Chapter Forty-Four - Machina ¡°There¡¯s an entire industry of trade where people, often scavengers working in some very specialized unions, will rush out to an incursion to pull the best, most juicy toys from the wreckage, often before the area is properly cleared. As you can imagine, their mortality rate is high, but for some, it¡¯s worth it. Samurai tend to discard weapons at a moment¡¯s notice. The trouble of selling something they won¡¯t be using anymore is often not worth the effort for them. Some are more generous, and will give older gear to soldiers and the like in the field, but often the gear they¡¯re using is incompatible with modern doctrine or requires ammunition and maintenance that¡¯s beyond any civilian¡¯s ability. So the scavengers come, and when they find a Samurai¡¯s trail, they follow it like hyenas after an injured antelope.¡± --Excerpt from ¡®After the Fall: A History of Post-Incursion Areas. 2040 *** I was down forty points. I also had four sub machine guns hanging around me from a couple of straps hooked onto their short stocks. They were called Stingers, and while they were cheap as shit and a bit bulky, they also had 120 round magazines that could be emptied with exactly thirty seconds of continuous fire. My Trench Maker was strapped in place, the pockets and holders on my back were full up, and my new arm¡¯s rocket launcher was loaded up with three HE rockets that I could call up by thinking about it hard enough. It was pretty cool. I still had points to spend, but not the time to spend them in. At least, not if I wanted to protect the AA gun for even a moment more. Hesitation gripped me just as I was opening the door back onto the roof. The kittens, Lucy, were probably safe by now. They were across the front line and were no doubt being pushed into some sort of shelter or an evacuation area. I could just tuck away in some corner, maybe find a route towards the edges of the incursion myself. It would be safer, probably. ¡°Fuck me,¡± I said as I slammed the door open. The roof was crawling with aliens. Model Fours, over a dozen, all huddled low and ready to move up towards the gun above us. Model Ones, an entire flock¡¯s worth, sometimes flopping down dead if they poked their head up too much and got tagged by the point defence guns. And more. Large winged models that I had only seen in flashes when looking out were circling the building. I saw hungry eyes turn my way. They looked first into my eye, then down to the two guns I was holding like the star of some samurai flick. I pulled back on the triggers and grit my teeth as the recoil had me stepping back. Twin lines of steel death washed over the nearest Antithesis. My left hand stopped firing way before my right. ¡°Myalis! Resonator!¡± I called as I let go of one gun. A grenade fell into my hand, and in a second was sailing above the heads of the xenos still in my path. The familiar ring of the resonator wasn¡¯t nearly as irritating with my new earpieces. At least, it wasn¡¯t as irritating to me. The aliens didn¡¯t take kindly to it. They rushed at me. ¡°Fire!¡± I screamed just as my right-side gun clicked empty. The guns over my back slid out into place, fully loaded and ready to tell the aliens, in no uncertain terms, that they could fuck right off. My second Stinger clicked empty. I unclipped its sling, marvelling at how easy it was with two hands, flung it to the ground, then pulled up the other two waiting by my hips. The next barrage was more about putting down tenacious aliens than really mowing them down. The resonator had a decent range, but its effect diminished with distance. The fliers were still zipping about unmolested, that was, until my back-mounted guns turned them into so much meat. I stepped out with a glance up for any surprises, then emptied the last of my bullets into a few aliens that were still writhing around while melting. I didn¡¯t need a flailing tentacle to batter me down. More were crawling up from the edges, and a look around revealed what had to be hundreds of Model Ones and some of those other fliers circling the roof like vultures around a corpse. They seemed content to circle though, without charging right at my exposed form. I ran up the little stairs towards the AA gun and winced. The machine was tough, but it had taken a beating. Its sides were covered in gore and burnt bits of alien, and a few battered bodies hung onto it like Christmas tinsel. I saw a Model Four lunge at it, only for the entire weapon platform to spin around so fast I felt the wind of its passing where I stood. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. The end of a railgun slapped the Model Four so hard most of it flew off the roof. INCOMING CALL FROM... BIG BROTHER LONGBOW ¡°C¡¯mon Stray Cat, you should get to cover, not stand around like that.¡± I pulled back. ¡°Yeah, yeah alright,¡± I said. ¡°Why are all my cute little brothers and sisters so hungry for points?¡± he lamented. For a moment he sounded like he could have been any of the older kids at the orphanage talking shit about the brats. ¡°Get back to cover. Only a minute or so until help arrives.¡± I started back towards the entrance when I saw a shift in the flock of Model Ones. I¡¯d seen nature docs from before the incursions, when the world was still mostly green and vibrant. There used to be these huge flocks of birds that would fly so close together that they looked like one giant mass. And when they moved, they would twist about like a plastic bag caught in the wind. They twisted, and it was with a sinking feeling in my gut that I realized that I hadn¡¯t been ignored after all. ¡°Oh shit.¡± My back-mounted guns started to tear into the oncoming tide, but it was like trying to stop the rush of water from a hydrant by throwing darts at it. Model Ones fell out of the formation, but it was still coming. ¡°Rocket!¡± I screamed while pointing ahead. The upper part of my new arm slid back, a blocky section popped up, and without so much as a whisper, a black form darted out of my arm and into the swarm. The explosion knocked me on my ass. A wave of heat, followed by a rain of xeno bits, rushed over me. I had a second to blink my eyes and collect myself before I looked up and took in the devastation the rocket had wrought to the swarm. Broken Model Ones were all over, twitching and trying to get back to their feet. More were still in the air, but their tight formation was utterly lost. Still, there were hundreds of them, and it only took a glance to see more coming from afar. I had, perhaps foolishly, attracted a whole lot of attention. I heard a whistling-whine from above. The air began to taste like ozone. I didn¡¯t have time to wonder at that. The sky became filled with red lines cutting down from a point somewhere above me and poking through every single Antithesis I could see. The tableau held for just a moment, a thousand aliens, all skewered by red beams like hot-dog slices with spaghetti noodles through them. The light had only been there for a second, but it burned itself into my retina. It did a lot worse to the aliens. They began to tumble out of the sky, all of them very dead. My neck craned back and I took in the radiant form of my savior. She stood on empty air. Behind her floated a sleek thing that looked like someone had taken the latest Ferrari hover car and split it in half before sculpting it into some sort of weapon¡¯s platform. Her body was covered in a matte bodysuit, but her arms were grabbing onto little trigger mechanisms that lead to a pair of boxy cannon-things linked to the platform behind her. Her legs were both slotted into giant mechanical boots that had opened up to reveal hundreds of glowing emitters. She dropped down with a low hum that sounded like something between the purr of a cat and the growl of an engine, but a whole lot more lethal. I couldn¡¯t see any weapons around her other than the floating cannons by her sides, but that meant jack. This woman was a bonafide Samurai, the sort movies were made of, whose face probably showed up on cereal boxes and who could definitely fuck me up without a second thought. Even the rain was curving way around her, as if afraid of getting her wet. Then she landed and I had to reassess that. The girl was a Samurai. She was a head and a bit shorter than me, and while her skintight suit was cool and all, it was definitely hinting at proportions that were imagined rather than real. When her mask split in three and folded away, it was to reveal the pouting face and chubby cheeks of a girl who had ducked under the puberty bat. Her flat blue eyes framed by long brown hair looked like they knew exactly what I was thinking and didn¡¯t like it one bit. ¡°Heya, pipsqueak,¡± I said. ¡°I could fucking melt you and no one would blink an eye,¡± she warned. I felt a very inappropriate grin tugging at my lips. ¡°So, you¡¯re the cavalry?¡± She nodded. ¡°I¡¯m Deus Ex. Now get on, I¡¯ve got better shit to do than babysit your green ass.¡± *** Chapter Forty-Five - Air Superiority Chapter Forty-Five - Air Superiority ¡°The field of psychology has always been keen on studying Samurai, not just because of their celebrity status, but because their entire way of life is so different from the norm. They¡¯re normal humans until something triggers and they gain the ability to become more. The most interesting cases, though, usually revolve around the younger Samurai. Children, young teens at best, who gain powers and abilities that set them apart from the rest of humanity. What¡¯s a parent to say to a child to whom the law doesn¡¯t apply? Can you force them to go to a normal school when they¡¯re essentially celebrities? And when they reach the end of the second phase and their ties to humanity, as demonstrated by the Petra-Karpov effect, start to break down? It¡¯s a murky, and rather terrifying scene to behold.¡± --Cynthia Eastwood, head psychologist, New Burkely U. 2051 *** I stared at the sleek platform, then at the girl standing with hands on hips before it. ¡°You want me to what?¡± I asked. She flicked a thumb over at the hovering machine. ¡°Sit your ass down on that, and hang on.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem safe,¡± I countered. I¡¯d just gotten a new limb, I didn¡¯t want to have to replace the rest of them when Little Miss Pouts-a-lot crashed into the side of a skyscraper. ¡°Do you even have a driver¡¯s permit?¡± She blinked. ¡°No, no I don¡¯t. I don¡¯t have a permit for the anti-tank laser cannons either, but most cops are too busy shitting themselves to ask. I know you¡¯re a total newb, but seriously, what gives?¡± Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Are you afraid of heights?¡± ¡°Nah, I¡¯m just, uh.¡± I looked at the platform she wanted me to sit on. It looked like the rear end of an old F1 racecar. All sleek, molded metal and not a handhold in sight. ¡°How do I hold on?¡± She sighed, then a few sections slid open on the back of the platform and a pair of wrist-thick tentacles slid out. ¡°They¡¯ll hold onto you,¡± she said. ¡°That is less reassuring, not more. How old are you to be going around with a tentacle machine?¡± For a moment, Deus Ex¡¯s expression shifted into the sort of juvenile disgust I was used to seeing on the kittens whenever Lucy and I did a bit of recreational tongue jousting. ¡°Longbow said you were a newbie, not a fucking perv.¡± ¡°No worries, you¡¯re not my type,¡± I said. I think I reached the end of her patience because she stomped--cutely--over to me, tugged my wrist forwards, and bodily flung me onto the platform. There was no way a pipsqueak that small had that kind of strength, but Deus Ex seemed to give no shits about my expectations as she pushed me into the arms of a couple of mechanical tentacles. ¡°I¡¯ll make it easy on you,¡± she said. ¡°So shut up, and you get to sit down and enjoy the flight back. You mouth off like some punk, and I¡¯m delivering you to the FOB gift-wrapped. Your choice.¡± ¡°Fine, fine,¡± I said. I didn¡¯t want to admit that the girl scared me, but, well, she scared me. ¡°Good.¡± She huffed, arms crossed over where her suit said her chest should have been. ¡°I can¡¯t stand folks who talk shit without being able to back it up.¡± I wanted to point out that I could totally back it up, but a pair of tentacles grabbed my arms just above the elbow and then wrapped around my waist. In no time, I was pressed, sitting up, onto the hood of her platform thing. ¡°Uh, I surrender?¡± I tried. ¡°Don¡¯t try being cute,¡± she warned. ¡°That¡¯s your corner of the market?¡± I asked. She glared. It had about as much effect as a Lucy glare. Deus Ex decided to take the high ground of ignoring me. She glanced around, took in the few forms flitting about, then looked back at me. ¡°How long have you been a Samurai?¡± she asked. ¡°About... three hours? Four?¡± She sighed. ¡°Fuck me sideways. Look, I¡¯m going to be the adult here--¡± She ignored my aborted snort. ¡°--and try to help you, alright? That¡¯s what we do?¡± ¡°Help people?¡± I asked, just to make sure. ¡°No. Fuck people. I mean we help each other. You¡¯re a Samurai now, which makes you, I don¡¯t know, a cousin or something. Even if you¡¯re an impolite burden that I had to fly ten minutes out of my way just to save from some Model Ones.¡± ¡°Hey, I would have been fine,¡± I said. ¡°Sure,¡± she said. She started running towards the edge of the roof, cannons lining up next to her. ¡°H-hey!¡± I was about to protest some more, but between one second and the next I was jerked forwards and found myself gripping onto the edge of the platform and holding back a cry. The building wasn¡¯t under me anymore. In fact, there was a lot of nothing under me. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°You¡¯re pretty low on points, right?¡± Deus Ex asked. She seemed perfectly okay with the idea that she was just hovering in the air and telling gravity to fuck right off. I couldn¡¯t answer because I left my heart somewhere on the roof she just casually ran off of. ¡°Please don¡¯t piss yourself while sitting on my gear,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°If you do, you¡¯re cleaning the entire thing off yourself.¡± ¡°You could give a girl a warning!¡± I shouted when my senses returned. I was a little busy burying my fear in a nice heavy layer of indignation. She looked over her shoulder at me, and then we dropped. Whatever was keeping us afloat clicked off and I screamed as the ground rushed up. Deus Ex¡¯s long hair trailed up and I felt my stomach doing flips until we started to slow down and came to a hover some two dozen feet off the ground. Deus Ex¡¯s helmet slid shut and she looked out ahead. ¡°Got any sort of AOE weapon?¡± I swallowed and slowly loosened my grip from the edge. My flesh and blood fingers hurt they were so tight. ¡°AOE? Yeah, yeah, I have bombs.¡± ¡°Good. Look at all the xenos.¡± she gestured to the hundreds of monsters on the street, many of whom had paused to stare at us. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of points. I¡¯d kill them all myself on the way back, but I don¡¯t see the harm in letting a newb make a few points. You¡¯ll need them for later.¡± ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± I asked. ¡°Just bomb them. It¡¯s not exactly rocket science. Just be fast about it.¡± She turned back ahead and started to fly forwards at a leisurely pace. ¡°Myalis!¡± I said. I didn¡¯t know why the pipsqueak was being so generous, but I wasn¡¯t about to say no. Every dead alien was one less people had to deal with later. ¡°I need grenades, and fast.¡± Of course! Might I suggest Mark I Hyper Compressors? A little indiscriminate, but effective! ¡°Anything!¡± I said. We were already moving past a whole lot of them. Deus Ex sigh, spun around, and brought her legs up to her chest. ¡°Lock on--fire,¡± she said. Her clunky boots unfolded and a hundred-off beams of light flashed across the road we¡¯d just flown down, frying every last alien there. ¡°Hurry up,¡± she said. Two grenades popped into existence in my hands just as we rounded the corner. Simple things, which only needed a flick of the thumb to activate. I flung both towards the biggest gathering of aliens, then, because I could, I let loose with my shoulder-mounted guns. They had ammo to spare still, so it wasn¡¯t a loss. The Hyper Compressor grenades beeped once before sucking everything around them into a ball the size of a melon. I¡¯d seen vacuum seals at work before, and these seemed similar, if a whole order of magnitude more bloody when they caught a few aliens. ¡°Keep going, newbie,¡± Deus Ex said. She folded her hands at the small of her back and began sliding her legs back and forth as if she was figure skating over thin air. ¡°So, pick out a specialty yet?¡± ¡°I, I don¡¯t know?¡± I said. ¡°Myalis... my AI said I should go for explosives and stealth?¡± I flung a few more bombs down and marvelled at the glory of having aerial superiority. ¡°Huh. Not something you see often.¡± ¡°A stealth bomber?¡± I asked. ¡°Stealth period.¡± ¡°If you saw it often, it would defeat the point,¡± I said. She giggled, caught herself, then chuckled in a faux-mature fashion before looking over her shoulder at me again. I couldn¡¯t see her face under the mask, but I swore she was glaring. ¡°We don¡¯t have a lot of stealth specialists in the region. You might fill a niche.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the region?¡± I asked. ¡°Hrm? I¡¯m part of The Family. We¡¯re about five, maybe six hundred members. Not the biggest, but we¡¯re up there in numbers. You should look into joining.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I said. There was no way I was joining something called ¡®The Family.¡¯ She shook her head. ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out. Or die. Or get stuck with some corp that¡¯ll hound you for years.¡± ¡°I just want to make sure me and mine are safe,¡± I said as I tossed out more grenades off the side. Myalis was giving them to me almost as quickly as I could fling them. ¡°You were protecting that caravan, right?¡± she asked. My heart seized. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. She nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll get Lynus to make sure they¡¯re set up well. Least I can do, since you¡¯ll be busy the rest of the day.¡± ¡°What?¡± But instead of answering, the girl bolted ahead and took a corner so fast I was afraid I¡¯d get whiplash. Ahead of us, blocking off the entire road, was a barricade of soldiers and tanks, and a sea of dead aliens. We were safe. *** Chapter Forty-Six - A Call Chapter Forty-Six - A Call ¡°There are a lot of people that show up when an incursion starts. You might wonder which idiot runs towards the unending aliens swarm, other than a dutiful Samurai, that is. You just need to look at the payouts to see. Insurance companies hire out PMCs, or have their own military branches that secure buildings, real estate, and VIPs. Medicare groups want to rescue as many injured as possible. Police forces, especially those who charge by-the-saving are always quick to act. The big boys though, the ones who are always on the scene first? Those are the private PMCs. Every block they clear, every building they save, every alien dead, means a whole lot of credits changing hands.¡± --Colonel Robert Oxford, September 2043 *** I¡¯d gotten stared at before. I was a teen who was missing an eye, an arm and who had ugly burns across her half her face. Worse, Lucy, the girl that I spent most of my day with, was the sort of pretty that could start problems. I¡¯d been the focus of attention that was unwelcome and ambivalent. I figured I was used to it. The amount of stares directed my way when Deus Ex shot past the front barricades--and the rows of tanks and milling soldiers--and came to a hovering halt some ten meters off the ground above a sea of displaced civilians and rushing soldiers was so far off the scales that they were sending shivers down my spine. She did something that had us dropping down only to stop the moment her heavy boots crashed into the pavement. The teen looked around, ignoring all the people that had backed off to get out of her path. She pointed off towards a row of tents going up alongside the road. There was a wooden barrier and a line of soldiers between us and the tents and pre-fabs and army trucks. ¡°See that van?¡± she asked. ¡°Yeah?¡± I said as I locked onto a row of semis. The tentacles holding me in place let go. I jumped off in a hurry. ¡°There should be some gear in there you can take. Simple shit. Just take whatever and replace it as soon as you can with real gear. I¡¯ll ping whoever¡¯s in charge and tell them to add you to a S and R squad.¡± ¡°A what?¡± I asked. She looked at me, my face¡¯s reflection off the visor of her helmet looking down at me with a mirror of confusion. ¡°Try not to die, alright?¡± She pivots around, her mechanical contraptions displacing the air with a dull thrum, then begins to hover an inch off the ground. ¡°Oh, and don¡¯t worry about those you saved. They¡¯re probably fine.¡± ¡°Wait!¡± I called out. She actually waited, which caught me flat-footed for a moment. I wasn¡¯t one to give much of a shit about social hierarchies and the like, but even my thick skull could get around the idea that a Samurai was above a normie. ¡°The kittens. The orphans I was with. Where are they?¡± Her shoulders drooped. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure they¡¯re looked after. You just worry about the opportunity you have today.¡± And with that, the girl twisted around--the back of her platform opening up to reveal a whole crapload of glowing thrusters--and shot off back towards the front line of the incursion. ¡°What opportunity?¡± I asked. I think she¡¯s speaking of the opportunity to obtain more points. Joining a Search and Rescue party wouldn¡¯t be a bad idea. I looked at all the faces taking me in. Some curious, some ambivalent, others hungry in a way that made me uncomfortable. I wanted to get out of there, but I didn¡¯t know where to head to. Was Lucy alright? Were the kittens? I had to... I was an idiot. With a few flicks of my eye, I opened up a messenger app and opened it to my most spoken-to contact. Cat: Lucy, you ok? I licked my lips as I waited for a reply. Lulu the greatest: CAT! Yes were ok! Cat: Where r u? Lulu the greatest: At a hotel. We were going to a shelter. Some guys brought us to a hotel instead. Said it was because of a samurai. Did u do it? HBU? Are you okay? Kittens are fine too! Cat: I¡¯m fine. I was saved by a laser loli. Talk later? Lulu the greatest: stay safe! <3 U! It felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I just wanted to find Lucy now, maybe spend a few minutes hugging her. The choice was made for me though as a group of soldiers ran my way. They were older, decked in padded armour and with heavy vests on, covered in tools whose use I could only guess at. The guns carefully held diagonally across their chests didn¡¯t need any introducing though. They wore the typical headgear of the men and women serving in a PMC. A full face mask, breathing tubes reaching over a shoulder and into a canvas backpack. Their matte visors didn¡¯t reflect any light, but I could still make out the rough shape of their faces within. The one in the lead had a couple of stripes on his shoulders that the others lacked. He stopped before me and fired off a salut. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± he said. ¡°We were informed that you¡¯d be coming.¡± This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°You were?¡± I asked. ¡°When? I mean, I just learned it myself.¡± No point in telling G.I. Joe that I had no intention of sticking around if it didn¡¯t suit me. ¡°News travels fast, ma¡¯am. This sector only has one other Tier One Samurai. We didn¡¯t know if we could maintain containment.¡± I raised a hand. ¡°I understood like half of that,¡± I said. ¡°Use little girl words.¡± I could tell he was reassessing me behind that mask of his. ¡°Most of the High-Tier Samurai who have come to help have elected to wait until the evacuation of the Incursion Site is complete before they begin to clear the area. Low Tier Samurai from the region have begun to deploy all around the Main Incursion Site in order to assist in the civilian evacuation.¡± I could hear the capitalization in what he was saying. Not that that mattered. They wanted me to... what, help murder more aliens, save some people I didn¡¯t know? It¡¯s a great opportunity. With the frequency at which Incursions hit, it might be some time before you have another opportunity to gather points. The more you obtain now, the better your position will be if you ever join another incursion, and the better your chances of carving out a comfortable life for your companions. If you would rather not participate though, I would understand. It has been a long day for you. I worked my jaw and looked over my shoulder back over the sea of gawkers, past the rows of medical tents and the milling crowds. My kittens were somewhere over there. They were probably worried. Or, well, Lucy and a few of the others would be. And on the other side, a city crawling with aliens, but also people that needed saving. I was just the one girl though. The one girl armed with a ceaseless supply of guns and bombs that could probably stem the tide, at least a little. ¡°Fuck me,¡± I muttered. ¡°Okay. Deus Ex mentioned that you guys had gear? I¡¯m not dressed for a party.¡± I looked at my bloody and torn clothes. My jacket was fine, the rest not so much. ¡°Not the kind of party I¡¯d want to crash anyway.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am! Clenze Private Military Inc. are glad to service you.¡± He nodded severely and did an about-face. ¡°Please follow me, ma¡¯am.¡± Feeling a bit out of place, I followed the soldier and pretended to be okay with all the others forming up around me like bodyguards around a VIP, or maybe cops around a suspect. We beelined for the wooden barrier keeping the crowds away. A couple of soldiers wearing much simpler gear were quick to pull it out of the way and salute as we passed. ¡°What¡¯s with all the civilians?¡± I asked. ¡°Aren¡¯t there shelters?¡± The soldier ahead of me cleared his throat. ¡°The free shelters have all been filled. Most of these people either can¡¯t afford one of the available ones, or they were just displaced from the Incursion Zone.¡± I arched an eyebrow at that. There were paid-for shelters out there? That was news to me. Not that I could have afforded one, probably. I took in the buildings around us. We were on the edge of downtown. The buildings around me were mostly ten or so floors up. The centre of the incursion seemed to have hit somewhere along the edges of the city. It would probably be spared if the local Samurai shut the incursion down. I licked my lips. I was one of those... shit. ¡°This is our armory, ma¡¯am,¡± the soldier said as he gestured to a matte-black semi-trailer with a ramp leading into its back. ¡°Take what you need. Free of charge.¡± I wasn¡¯t the sort to say no to free shit. At least, after I made sure there were no strings attached. ¡°How do I sign things out? You need to know what I took, right?¡± The soldier shook his head. ¡°The items are all bar-coded. They¡¯ll be marked as lost inventory the moment you take them.¡± ¡°And taking one won¡¯t lock me into a contract?¡± The soldier laughed, genuinely mirthful. Even the others around him joined in. ¡°You don¡¯t pull a fast one on a Samurai, ma¡¯am. Not if you expect to live a life free of vindictive orbital bombardments.¡± What? I decided to set that aside as I climbed up the first couple of steps into the truck. Then I remembered that I was a teenaged girl about to enter a strange unmarked car and my survival instinct kicked in. ¡°Myalis, this thing legit?¡± I asked. I can¡¯t see anything wrong with it. The equipment here is probably sub-par though. I suppose it could save you a few points spent on other things. ¡°Right,¡± I said as I took the last few steps into the truck. It was, as soldier-boy had said, an armory. Racks, most of them empty, lined the walls next to metal crates and even more racks. Guns, rifles and pistols, boxes of ammunition, neatly folded clothes. There was everything someone needed to start a party except for some hot headed idiots. ¡°Nice,¡± I said as I drew the door shut behind me. Barely passable. For the record, your current point total is sitting at two-thousand two-hundred and seven. You have also obtained one token. I blinked. Then I grinned. *** Chapter Forty-Seven - Shopping Spree Chapter Forty-Seven - Shopping Spree ¡°When you have some select people who can buy anything, suddenly the market for anything starts to look really interesting. From exotic weapons, to hyper-advanced engines for preformance cars, to literal alien pornography. There¡¯s a market out there, and we¡¯re just trying to meet its demands.¡± -- Interview with the CEO of Samazun, 2031 *** I had to sort things out one at a time. ¡°Okay, okay,¡± I said. ¡°First things... where did the token come from?¡± You obtained your first token from saving over a hundred civilians. I thought it unwise to bother you with the announcement while you were in the midst of a battle. ¡°Cool? Next time just tell me.¡± As you wish. ¡°Right.¡± I looked around the mobile armory and licked my lips. There was probably some good shit here. I needed a few things too. Pants, for one, and some boots that weren¡¯t stained in alien goop. Maybe some socks too. I started to search through the stacks as I thought. It was better to keep busy. I didn¡¯t have forever to shop around here. It was only a few minutes into comparing pant sizes that I noticed that I wasn¡¯t using my right arm at all. Weird. ¡°Let¡¯s spend some points,¡± I said. Wonderful! Might I start from the top? ¡°Uh, yeah, sure,¡± I said. ¡°There aren¡¯t any cameras in here, right?¡± There are. I can blur out your form for privacy, if you want? ¡°Please?¡± I asked. Consider it done! I nodded. I didn¡¯t need anyone knowing the color of my intimates. Having two pairs of fingers make buttons so much easier to deal with. I had set aside a pair of thick cargo pants that had built-in kneepads. From the top! Your current aug-gear is outdated, even by humanity¡¯s standards. New gear would require that you unlock a catalogue and then purchase some equipment. Based on previous discussion, I¡¯d suggest the Basic Cyberwarfare Class I catalogue. ¡°Alright. New aug-gear. Cool.¡± That could be handy. ¡°Can we get something that¡¯ll allow you to hack into stuff?¡± Certainly. After that, I would advise that you improve your stealth-based capabilities. Even with your current points you don¡¯t have enough to buy the kind of things needed to be a heavy-hitter. I started to pull on a pair of nice boots, then paused. ¡°Are there stealth clothes?¡± I asked. Of course. ¡°Got any good boots?¡± There are a few. Mark II Silent Runners would cost you two hundred points, but come with a lot of utility. The same price as my arm? I tried to imagine boots that were that cool. ¡°I¡¯ll take them,¡± I said. ¡°And something like a cloak... no, a trench coat. But stealthy.¡± I... can find something like that as well. I began to suspect that Myalis was either amused or confused by my sporadic purchasing. ¡°Awesome. And I need a gun. A bigger one.¡± Perhaps a silent weapon? An overly loud gun would render a lot of your stealth capabilities null. A crossbow might do. You could purchase different sorts of bolts with unique payloads from your Esoteric Explosives catalogue. That sounded hot as fuck. ¡°Deal,¡± I said. Very well. Do you want to go over your purchases one at a time? We still have some moments to... I felt a bit of a headache at the thought. Numbers were... not my thing. ¡°Nah, I trust you.¡± ... Thank you. I would also suggest replacing your missing eye with a proper sensor suite. There are some available in your Sun Watcher catalogue. Class I Basic Cyberwarfare Utilities unlocked! Points reduced to... 2107 Class I Stealth Technologies unlocked! Points reduced to... 1907 Class I Silent Weapons unlocked! Points reduced to... 1857 Oh, my points were dropping fast. New Purchase: Mark II Cyberwarfare Augmentation Points reduced to... 1807 New Purchase: Mark I Decryption Protocol Points reduced to... 1787 New Purchase: Mark II Silent Runners Points reduced to... 1587 New Purchase: All Seeing Eye Mark I Points reduced to... 1437 New Purchase: Optical Camouflage Coat Model G, Mark I Points reduced to... 1237 New Purchase: Whisper Mark II Points reduced to... 1037 The notifications flashing before my eye stopped. I let out a breath. Still a lot of points left, that was good. Then boxes started to appear all around me. I clapped my hands, because that was something I could do now, then tried to decide which one to open first. The augments and the eye first. They¡¯ll take some getting used to. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. I found the smallest box and opened it up to reveal a pair of disks that reminded me of those fancy watch batteries. They had handy instructions written on them. PLACE NEAR EYE, and PLACE AT BASE OF NECK. I did as they instructed, placing one disk next to my eye, then leaving it there as I placed the other near the base of my neck. ¡°Okay? How does this- ahhh!¡± Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. I gasped. It felt as if someone had just pushed a wrapped popsicle against the side of my face and the back of my neck. Wincing, I reached up and touched the disks, but they were lukewarm. My vision went wild for a moment, HUD elements winking on and off before everything resettled. The new augmentation gear has been installed. You can remove the disks now. There shouldn¡¯t be a large quantity of blood. ¡°What?¡± I asked as I tore the disks off. As she said, there was a bit of blood on their underside. ¡°The fuck?¡± The system unleashed a swarm of construction nanites under your skin. Some took over and rebuilt parts of your old aug-gear, the rest replaced it wholesale. You should be passing the unnecessary elements the next time you visit the facilities. I blinked and tried not to think too hard on that. The new gear... looked the same? I looked at a bar-code on a rack across from me and a screen instantly popped open. No delay that I could see, and the resolution on the letters was incredible. No more pixelation. ¡°What about the cyberwarfare bit?¡± That package is purely software. It¡¯s been installed already. No boxes, I¡¯m afraid. Unless you wanted the software delivered as solid media, which is an option. ¡°Like in a thumb-drive?¡± I asked. I¡¯d seen those in text books before. Or as another kind of drive, or a stack of CD Roms, DVDs, floppy disks or reels. I would advise against most of those unless you require ballast weight. I moved onto the next small box. It had an eye. I stared at it, and it, seemingly, stared back from within the confines of its styrofoam-like pad. Next to it was a tiny spray bottle, like one of those perfume samplers. Spray that into your eyehole, then place the eye inside. ¡°Oh, hell no,¡± I said. It¡¯s a very advanced piece of technology. You¡¯ll be able to see across a wide range of the colour and visual spectrum, with incredible accuracy over long distances. It will also interface with your aug-gear if you ever need it to. Placing the eye shouldn¡¯t hurt. I bit my lips and took the eye out with mechanical fingers that didn¡¯t shake. I winced at the thought of shoving the ping-pong ball sized thing into my face, but, well, Myalis hadn¡¯t fucked me over yet. Opening my eyehole wide, I sprayed the spritzy stuff within and instantly lost all feeling on that side of my face. No wonder it wouldn¡¯t hurt. Shoving the eye in was an experience that I wasn¡¯t keen on repeating, especially when it started to rotate around in my skull. And then, suddenly, I could see from both eyes again. ¡°Holy depth perception,¡± I said as I took everything in. My eyesight in my normal eye was fine. 20-20 or whatever, but now, when I closed it, it felt as if I was missing out on half the details available in the world around me. I could see the texture of cloth from across the room and motes of dust hovering in the air. I would suggest the boots next. Myalis snapped me out of my reverie. ¡°Yeah, okay.¡± The boots were... boots. They were neat, made of some sort of black material and reaching up to mid-shin, but they were just boots with some steel plates atop them and no obvious buckles or laces. They¡¯re auto-adjusting to fit, have an impact resist system, have self-adjusting friction, do not leave any footprints, can grip onto vertical surfaces, and don¡¯t make noise when moving. Well, that helped. I took off my dirty socks, winced at how messy my feet were, then used a t-shirt from a rack to wipe them clean before slipping them into the boots sock-less. ¡°Oh, wow, that¡¯s soft,¡± I said. At the point-cost, comfort shouldn¡¯t be negotiable. They are, of course, vacuum sealed once worn. Your feet will remain in an environment with optimal levels of humidity. I stood up and bounced on the stop a few times. It... didn¡¯t feel right. The lack of sound, the super light impact. That was going to take some getting used to. The next box was the coat. It was, in a word, sexy. I was grinning like a loon as I tossed it on. There were slits in the back, covered by mag-strips keeping them shut, for the arms of my back-mounted weapons. The front had a tall collar that stopped just short of my nose, and a large, proper hood that could fit three of my heads. The material was a flat black so dark it was almost fucking with my vision. Still, I could make out centimeter-wide hexagons all over it. It was stealth-bomber chic. The edges of it reached down to my knees, and the sleeves to mid-hand. It was a bit snug over my auto-loader, but not so much that it would be a problem. Activating the coat now. I didn¡¯t have time to ask what she meant that half my body disappeared. ¡°Ohhh,¡± I cooed as I looked at my hand, and only my hand. My arm was just... gone. Wiggling it about showed the space where the room¡¯s shadows hit the coat¡¯s material just-so, but it was damned hard to make out. Looking down only revealed a few inches of leg and my new boots. ¡°This is sweet,¡± I said. It also interferes with electronic sensors and thermal vision, though some higher-tier Antithesis will still likely spot you, even with the coat. A polite knock at the door had me looking up. ¡°We should hurry this along,¡± I said. Chapter Forty-Eight - Rail Shooter Chapter Forty-Eight - Rail Shooter Samurai are separated by Tiers which classify them as follows: Tier 1: Capable of matching a Squadron-level deployment of modern soldiers. Tier 2: Capable of matching a Main Battle Tank Tier 3: Capable of matching a UN-Standard Artillery Battalion Tier 4: Capable of matching a Navy Flotilla¡¯s firepower Tier 5: Capable of matching a Mid-Yield Thermonuclear Device Do NOT Antagonize Samurai at or above Tier 4 under ANY circumstances. They are to be considered Free Agents, Independent of any chain of command. --Excerpt Cross PMC Samurai-Military Decorum Package, Sixth Edition, 2054 *** There was only one box left to open. It was a big sucker, maybe half a meter long and a foot wide. ¡°This is meant to be my new gun?¡± I asked. In a manner of speaking. The term ¡®gun¡¯ might be incorrect, though it does fire a projectile. And now I was worried again. I knelt down, my awesome new coat pooling around my feet before I used both hands to snap the box open. What greeted me had me pausing until a stupid smile touched the corners of my lips. ¡°Myalis. Is this a railgun?¡± Not exactly. It¡¯s a magnetically assisted silent-firing bolt launcher. The projectiles fired do not break the sound barrier, and are rather heavy compared to standard ammunition. The not-a-railgun was that same dark-blue as my back-mounting, with a faint pinkish glow coming from between two ¡®forks¡¯ that ran the length of the weapon. Everything about it was angular and sharp, from the pistol grip in its middle to the rubber padding on its shoulder rest. Even the scope above it was squared off. I picked it up, surprised by how light it was. At the front, just before the foregrip, were a pair of little legs in a folding mount, and the side had a box that was obviously meant to be yanked out. There was even a strap on a little spool built into the stock that unwound like one of those old-school belt buckles. I had to stow my giddiness and get down to brass tacks. ¡°What does this fire?¡± I asked. Pick an explosive from your Esoteric Explosives Class I catalogue and for a small fee, a magazine¡¯s worth of bolts can be produced for firing. It is currently loaded with ten silent concussion bolts. ¡°Oh Myalis, you do know how to get a girl off.¡± There¡¯s a catalogue for that. I blinked. I thought about Lucy and her reaction to that news. I blinked some more. ¡°Remind me later. Uh, what¡¯s, um.¡± I tried to get my thoughts back in order. ¡°The rate of fire and stuff?¡± Sixty rounds per minute. It is not meant for rapid fire, but instead precise target-specific attacks. ¡°Fair enough.¡± I hugged my Whisper close for a moment, then sighed as I stood back up. Time was moving on. A look around the room showed me how many things I¡¯d failed to loot, which was just a sin. So I took a neat looking handgun from a rack and shoved it in the holster opposite my Trench Maker, then I nabbed a few magazines for it. Finding a box full of fragmentation grenades at the back was also a treat. They even had a neat belt with pouches for them. I could get you better for a fraction of your remaining points. Ignoring Myalis¡¯ jealous moaning, I kicked open the door and stepped out, I was an entirely different girl than the one that had stepped in. I caught the eye of the soldier that had followed me, then looked up to one of the nearby mirror-windowed skyscrapers. I had to hold back a downright goofy grin as I saw myself. In my stomach-revealing black auto-loader and my pitch-black trenchcoat I looked like the hero in a classic action flick. The huge gun strapped to my back and the cargo pants covered in explosives helped sell the look. My new eye, which allowed me to see everything so much clearer, had a slit pupil down its centre that glowed a faint pink when the light caught it just-so. Catherine Leblanc looked like a badass. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. And then, because I wasn¡¯t paying attention, I missed a step on the rickety stairs and tumbled down ass over teakettle. The soldiers looked down at me. Then the younger ones turned to look elsewhere, their shoulders trembling with something that I doubted was fear. ¡°Are you okay, ma¡¯am?¡± the big guy leading the bunch asked. He sounded utterly unphased by my little accident. Red in the face, I rolled onto my front, then got to my feet. ¡°Sorry. New limbs, new eyes. You know what it¡¯s like,¡± I said. ¡°Certainly,¡± he replied. ¡°So, uh, where to now?¡± I asked. He stood a little taller. ¡°Major Hunt wishes to see you, ma¡¯am. She has more details about the push into the incursion area.¡± ¡°Cool, cool,¡± I said. ¡°Bring me to your leader.¡± I got another unnecessary salute and then we were off. We were getting a lot more attention now. The normal folk on the other side of the barrier were pointing, and some were taking pictures. The soldiers running around did so while standing a little taller and no one blocked our path. Did they know I was a Samurai? I certainly had part of the get-up, but it was nowhere near as obvious as someone like Deus Ex. I walked a little taller, just in case. Image was important, or so Lucy always said. We reached a line of trucks and tents all parked in neat rows some hundred meters from the line of tanks and sandbags holding off the incursion. The occasional bark of a rifle, or the splutter of automatic fire would sound from over the wall. ¡°This one, ma¡¯am,¡± my escort said as he moved to a prefab building with tin walls and opened a door before it. I nodded my thanks and stepped into what my pop-culture fed mind immediately labelled the ¡®command room.¡¯ There was a row of comfortable chairs at the back, each one with someone jacked in sitting on it, their eyes twitching like mad as they surfed the net. Before them was a projector table around which a few folk in nicer uniforms were pointing and talking, the mouth pieces over their lips suggesting it wasn¡¯t to each other. At the far end stood a tall woman in the fanciest uniform of them all. She looked up as we walked in, orange hair catching on the shitty LED lighting. ¡°You¡¯re the newbie Samurai?¡± she asked. ¡°Um. Yeah,¡± I said. She nodded. ¡°Just awakened today?¡± I wasn¡¯t the sort to balk at authority, but this bitch looked like she ate cats for lunch, and not in the fun way. ¡°A few hours ago. Inside the incursion. Had to hitch a ride over.¡± She glanced at my gear, then grinned. ¡°You did well for yourself in a few hours, I see. Killed plenty of those god-forsaken xeno scum! Good work.¡± ¡°Thanks?¡± ¡°But the reward for good work is more work.¡± She moved over to the projector and shooed the other away from it. A moment later there was a 3D map of New Montreal with a spreading red cancer in its middle and a blue tide all around it. A few green points were moving around too. She pointed to part of the map. ¡°This is where we are. We¡¯ve got one other tier one samurai in the area. We¡¯re not at the epicentre of the incursion, so we¡¯re only catching a dribble of the bastards for now. That will change. There are six hours left before the big guns turn the centre of the city into a pockmarked hellhole. That¡¯s six hours to evac every last civvie we can.¡± More shapes appeared in purple. Boxes across the entire city. ¡°Priority targets. The Children¡¯s Hospital was cleared by a Tier Three, as was everything that had a single thought about fucking with sick kids. But that leaves a few other care places unassisted. The smaller boxes are vaults. They need to get evacced. We¡¯re sending ten teams from here, each with priority targets. I want you on one of them.¡± ¡°So, an escort mission.¡± I said as I tried to keep my jitters down. ¡°You can fuck off at any time if you want to kill more of those weed bastards. I¡¯d appreciate my boys and girls coming back though.¡± I nodded. Was I getting swept up in something again? Lucy said I didn¡¯t have a backbone sometimes. I licked my lips, then nodded again, harder this time. ¡°I¡¯m in.¡± Chapter Forty-Nine - Hunters Chapter Forty-Nine - Hunters ¡°They call themselves ¡®Hunters¡¯ as if they¡¯re big-game hunters straight out of some early nineteenth century Victorian gentlemen¡¯s club. Normal blokes with too much time and money on their hands who rush over to incursion sites armed to the teeth. They capture their ¡®hunts¡¯ on video then use them to brag to each other. The best ones have followings online and promote all sorts of stuff. Sometimes they¡¯ll even run across a passing Samurai and either get told off for being morons or will get a pat on the back for killing some xenos.¡± --Extract from a Reddit F.A.Q., 2035 *** I parted from Major Hunt with a slap on the back for my good ¡®xeno killing work¡¯ and a shove back to my babysitter. ¡°I was instructed to escort you to advanced team fifty-one,¡± the big guy said. Nodding, I followed him out of the little command tent and back out onto the bustling main ground of the temporary base. Now that I knew just a bit more about what was going on, I could appreciate the groups of soldiers running past and the rumbling of vehicles heading to the front a bit more. We waited as a large armoured van passed by, its back door opened to reveal twin rows of normal folk all huddled together and looking like they had been through a nightmare. People rescued from the incursion zone? ¡°How does the whole saving people thing work?¡± I asked. ¡°I mean. Say I find a bunch of folk out there. Do I escort them all the way back?¡± Soldier boy shook his head. ¡°No ma¡¯am. If you¡¯ll allow us to connect to your aug-gear, we¡¯ll give you the locations of forward bases and rendez-vous points. Escorted combat groups will meet up with you there and take any VIPs and civilians back here to be processed and evacuated.¡± I didn¡¯t like the sound of ¡®processed.¡¯ He said it the same way someone might ¡®process¡¯ someone¡¯s credit info, which was probably exactly what was happening. As long as they didn¡¯t try to pull any funny business on my Kittens I¡¯d honestly probably not do anything about it, but still. ¡°Do I have a target or something?¡± I asked. He shrugged. Finally a crack in his little professional attitude. We reached a spot near the barricade where little all-terrain vehicles were parked, little Humvee look-alikes with roof-mounted guns and actual wheels instead of hover systems. It was all a bit old-school, but judging by how armoured the things looked, it wasn¡¯t too surprising. ¡°Team Fifty One,¡± soldier boy called out. Eight soldiers, all in the same flat-grey almost-armoured uniforms as my escorts lined up in two rows before me. They varied in height and stature, but they all seemed like they could handle themselves. One of them stepped up, the shortest one in the entire lot, but also the one with the most marks on his shoulders and breastplate. ¡°Team Fifty-One reporting,¡± he said. Soldier boy saluted. ¡°I¡¯m handing off Tier One Samurai Stray Cat into your care, Team Fifty-One.¡± ¡°Acknowledge,¡± Short-stack said with a return salute. ¡°Good luck ma¡¯am,¡± my escort said before he moved off. And then I found myself the centre of attention of a bunch of soldiers. I wished that I could turn invisible without it being a big social faux-pas. ¡°Sup?¡± ¡°We¡¯re in your care, Miss Stray Cat,¡± the short one said. ¡°Uh. Sure?¡± I said. They were probably all a few years older than me, which just... yeah, made shit weird. ¡°I¡¯m not big on saluting and such, can we skip ahead to the actual goal of this thing?¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am! Have you been briefed?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Shorty nodded. ¡°In that case, we¡¯re ready to go whenever you are. We have two vehicles at our disposal. At your disposal. As well as clearance to cross the barricade sans inspection.¡± Was that important? ¡°I call shotgun?¡± I tried. There was a snicker from some of the soldiers, but short-stuff didn¡¯t seem to mind at all. He tapped the side of the nearest armoured car. ¡°This one¡¯s ours, ma¡¯am.¡± I moved to the passenger side of the car, if only to get away from all the staring. Should I get a shirt that covered my stomach? Had they been staring that way? It was hard to tell with their visors. Which reminded me, I needed some cool shades too. I pulled open the passenger door of the truck... car thing and jumped onto a hard-plastic seat. The back had room for three, including a little station that looked to control the gun mounted to the roof, and the driver¡¯s seat was surrounded by a whole load of screens that I could only hoped had to do with driving the vehicle. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Shortstack jumped in the back behind the driver¡¯s seat and the rest climbed in in a hurry. ¡°I¡¯m Sergeant Monroe,¡± Shorty said. ¡°Pleased to meetcha Monroe,¡± I said. ¡°So, where are we heading to?¡± Monroe seemed caught off-guard by that, but he was quick to rally. ¡°Our main objective is the Patterson Research Hospital in area G17. There¡¯s a caravan of transports heading there, as well as six other squads. We were assigned to Eagle Platoon until you came around. Now we¡¯re assigned to you, ma¡¯am.¡± So they were heading to some hospital with a bunch of others to pick up sick folk? That... sounded alright. ¡°When is... Eagle platoon heading out?¡± ¡°In twelve minutes, ma¡¯am. ETA to the hospital is seven minutes if the roads are clear.¡± ¡°Expecting a lot of resistance on the way?¡± I asked. ¡°No,¡± he said with a shake of his head. ¡°But the unloading will take nearly half an hour, maybe more. There¡¯s still a lot of staff left. We need to hope it won¡¯t take two trips.¡± ¡°Can we head out early?¡± I asked. The driver seemed to take that as an order because she--at least, I assumed a she based on the shape of her chest armour--put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking area. ¡°This is Five-One, pulling out of FOB with VIP,¡± the driver said while tapping one of her screens. ¡°Permission granted.¡± ¡°O-kay,¡± I said as I leaned into the most uncomfortable seat ever. The gear hanging off my back was cool and all, but it wasn¡¯t made for sitting down comfortably. ¡°That answers that. I guess we¡¯ll get to the hospital and give it a look-see. Is it in any danger?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t think so,¡± Monroe said. ¡°The hospital has its own security force. It¡¯s one of those nice private ones, with the VIP ambulances. It¡¯s also pretty far from the red-zones.¡± ¡°Red-zones?¡± I asked. He was quick to fill in the gap in my knowledge. ¡°Zones go from black, which is full-on hive territory, to red, to orange, to green. White zones are outside of the incursion area. The hospital is on the outside of an orange zone. Some aliens, but not that many. Mostly advanced scouts for now.¡± ¡°Then aren¡¯t we a bit of overkill?¡± I asked. The other two soldiers looked at each other. ¡°You might be, ma¡¯am,¡± Monroe said. ¡°But we¡¯re not equipped for anything past the single-digit models, which is what will be popping up in the red-zones soon enough.¡± Was I overestimating myself? The hospital run was starting to sound like it was meant to be a cake-walk, the tutorial area that I¡¯d missed out on. ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± I said. I chose to change the subject. ¡°What are you guys equipped for?¡± ¡°We¡¯re all equipped with light arms, and we have two heavy fraggers with us. If we can set them up, we can cover a decent choke-point.¡± ¡°The fuck is a fragger?¡±¡¯ I asked. Monroe chuckled. ¡°Not all of us have a Samurai¡¯s aim, ma¡¯am. Hitting the smaller models is hard, so our heavy guns fire fragmentation rounds that burst in mid-air. They¡¯ll clear out a flock of Model Ones in no time.¡± I nodded. Were they scared of Model Ones? They were kitted out like pros; it didn¡¯t make sense that they¡¯d be afraid of some demon pigeons. ¡°That¡¯s nice,¡± I said. A moment later I was distracted as we rolled past the barricade. I had been wrong when I assumed that it was just a pile of sandbags. There were also thick cement barriers in the middle of it, with platforms above where gunners had set up. The opening left for trucks to pass was barely wide enough for us to move through, and the thing blocking it was a heavy tank with a stubby gun mounting on its turret. I craned my neck back to watch the tank as we went by because it was a tank and those were pretty fucking cool. ¡°Looking for inspiration for your next ride?¡± the driver asked. ¡°You mean the tank?¡± I asked. I¡¯m afraid that the Armoured Assault Vehicle catalogue would drastically reduce your point count. The class I catalogue alone costs five hundred points, and a vehicle comparable to that one would easily cost a few thousand points. I clamped my mouth shut. I didn¡¯t want to be caught out screaming ¡®I can buy tanks?!¡¯ while around all the soldier types. ¡°Yeah. I saw a Samurai tank once,¡± the driver said. I heard groans from two of the three soldiers behind me. ¡°It¡¯s true!¡± the driver defended herself. I leaned back into my shitty seat and sighed. I wanted to be back with Lucy, not heading in exactly the opposite direction. Chapter Fifty - Milk Run Chapter Fifty - Milk Run ¡°The idea of shelters for cover and protection harkens back to World-War Two Britain, where buildings were built where people could find cover during bombing runs. During the Cold War, fallout shelters appeared across the world as countries feared the approach of a nuclear assault. Surprisingly, it wasn¡¯t until the third major incursion that governments began to invest in the production of incursion shelters. Before that, even with the warning from Samurai across the world, most nations chose to believe that the initial incursions were one-off events. Now, nearly every city has at least one ¡®vault¡¯ per block. These range from private, pay-to-enter facilities comparable to hotels, to large cement structures where thousands can huddle together and pray for salvation.¡± --Extract from A History of the Vault, 2034 *** Our little caravan of two rolled across barren streets, sometimes twisting around abandoned hover cars and wheeled, automated semi trailers whose programming had glitched out as soon as the incursion began and the traffic came to a stand-still. I leaned my head against the window and wished that we were moving faster. ¡°Hey, Myalis?¡± I asked. Yes? ¡°Are we doing the right thing?¡± The AI took a while to respond. I was sure it was an artificial pause. It would depend on where your priorities lie. If you are looking to help the locals while also remaining relatively safe, then what you¡¯re doing is, without a doubt, the right thing. The probability of meeting any heavy resistance is very low. ¡°And if my priority is to help the most people?¡± I asked. In that case you would need to head towards the centre of the incursion and do your best to stem the tide, as it were. The risks inherent in that are quite high, and I do not think you are equipped for such yet. Though you do have some points to spare. I scrunched my nose in thought. Were the others in the car listening to me speak to someone what wasn¡¯t there? Judging by their silence that was a resounding yes. I figured being a Samurai meant that I was allowed a bit of eccentricity. ¡°What¡¯s the middle ground?¡± As it stands, thanks to your upgraded cyberwarfare suite, I was able to glean some surface information from the organization you agreed to assist. There are seven vaults between the hospital you are heading to and the nearest orange zone that were marked as low priority. There is a good chance that the people within those will not be rescued. Depending on how the other Vanguard respond to the antithesis threat, their lives might be forfeit. ¡°Shit,¡± I said. ¡°What about deeper in?¡± I sat up straighter. I could imagine being stuck in a vault, wondering if someone was coming to rescue me. Hell, I didn¡¯t need to imagine it, that had been me some hours ago. The vaults within the orange zones, other than those with VIPs, have been marked as losses. Most of those within the red zones have been breached already. I chewed on my lip. ¡°Right.¡± Turning, I looked to the driver, then over my shoulder to Monroe. ¡°Okay. Bit of a change of plans,¡± I said. Could I do that? They were treating me well enough, but so far I¡¯d been playing along with their script. ¡°We¡¯re heading past the hospital and into the edge of the orange zone. There are a few vaults there that are still occupied.¡± ¡°That¡¯s outside the remit of our mission, ma¡¯am,¡± Monroe said. ¡°That¡¯s cute,¡± I said. ¡°But I don¡¯t really care. You can either come with me, or drop me off and let me go on my own. Either way, there are folks that need saving.¡± The sergeant shifted in his seat, then raised a hand. I could just barely make out his voice from within his helmet as he no doubt talked to someone above him in the chain of command. ¡°We have permission from Major Hunt to assist you. But not to enter the red zones,¡± he said a moment later. I nodded slowly. That... was better than I was hoping. ¡°Can we call up transportation or something?¡± I asked. ¡°We could escort them to the hospital. There will be pick up from there already,¡± Monroe suggested. I raised a finger in a ¡®one minute¡¯ gesture. ¡°Myalis, is there a way for me to connect to Google? I need a map of the region.¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. I think I can assist you with that. My new HUD filled with a floating three dimensional map of the region, including markers for the shelters Myalis had pointed out, and a blue circle showing where we were. ¡°You¡¯re the best,¡± I said. I do try. ¡°Can you, uh, highlight the hospital?¡± One of the buildings lit up in pink, then a section of the map turned orange. It overlapped with a pair of shelters. There were two blocks between the hospital and the orange zone. Taking a car would mean taking a meandering path around the roads, but the aliens weren¡¯t taking an Uber over to the hospital, they¡¯d be going through buildings and alleyways and flying. Still, there was a decent chunk of ground to cover. I eyed the map some more, then rolled my eyes as a bunch of yellow arrows started to point to a few spots and notes appeared hovering above them reading ¡®deploy from here¡¯ and ¡®relay point.¡¯ Myalis was just being helpful. And... she probably knew best. ¡°Right, we can stop here,¡± I said, pointing to one of the spots marked by a yellow arrow. ¡°Uh,¡± the driver said. ¡°Ma¡¯am, you¡¯re just pointing at my speedometer.¡± I blinked, realized that they couldn¡¯t see the map hovering in my vision, then felt my cheeks warming up. ¡°Uh, you have a GPS on this thing?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°Right, right let me just... Myalis?¡± That was terribly embarrassing. Do you want me to make it more obvious that augmented reality projections aren¡¯t visible to others? It would save you from looking quite so... bizarre. ¡°Myalis,¡± I hissed. Very well! ¡°Oh, yeah, I got it,¡± the driver said. I turned around to face the sergeant. ¡°Are any of your guys coming with me? Or are you all going to stay and defend the cars?¡± Monroe rubbed at the underside of his helmet where his neck was hidden by some rubbery material. ¡°I¡¯ll send fireteam Bravo with you. That¡¯s myself and three others. Fireteam Alpha can guard the vehicles.¡± I nodded. ¡°Four of us, plus one of me... Myalis, any idea how many people are in those shelters?¡± The first one I marked is a small private shelter linked to four apartment blocks. Its maximum capacity is four hundred, but from what I can tell there are only sixty residents within. I suspect most were out of their home when the incursion started. The second shelter is a municipal one. Capacity one thousand. It¡¯s at double that. Double... so two thousand civilians in one shelter? I¡¯d seen mega shelters before. They were cramped places with beds and some food and seats. Like a really weird cross between a subway station and a motel. ¡°Fuck, that¡¯s a lot of people.¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± I frowned at the empty air. ¡°First shelter had about sixty people in it.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll be difficult to corral with just four of us, but I¡¯m certain we can manage if they¡¯re cooperative. It won¡¯t be too much of a strain on the busses from the hospital either.¡± ¡°The second shelter has two thousand.¡± There was a long bit of silence. ¡°Well fuck,¡± the driver finally said. ¡°The fuck are we meant to move that many meatheads?¡± ¡°Stow it private,¡± Monroe said. ¡°I¡¯ll... see about getting more transports to come to the hospital.¡± ¡°How in the fuck did so many people stay behind?¡± I wondered. It was a dumb question though. We had almost stayed in the tower we were in, with its fucked up shelter and all, and that was in the middle of an orange zone. How many groups of strangers were left in the city? Those crowds near the barricades, were there enough people there to account for the millions that lived in the area of the incursion? What about those that couldn¡¯t move so easily? I felt a bit sick to my stomach as the full scope of the incursion started to press down on me. And I was one of those meant to save them all? ¡°Myalis, those other shelters?¡± I left the question hanging. The map returned, this time with numbers over each shelter. The big one on the edge of an orange zone was the largest, but a couple of others had over five hundred people stuck in them. That wasn¡¯t going to be easy, or pretty. ¡°We¡¯re going to need a lot of busses,¡± I said. Chapter Fifty-One - Along for the Fun Chapter Fifty-One - Along for the Fun ¡°There was a strange surge of semi-religious action in early 2021. Most modern religions, from Christianity to the Islamic faith, couldn¡¯t handle the existence of extraterrestrial life, either life that was incredibly hostile and antithetical to human life, or the existence of multiple races so much more advanced than humanity that they seemed nearly deity-like. The clergy scrambled to reason with their flock. And while they did so, new organizations and quasi-religions rose to fill in the blank left by the larger religions. From paramilitary groups that built themselves up as cults, to organizations that worshipped the ¡®god-like¡¯ Samurai. One of the final nails in the coffin on the great religions was the Protectors declaring that there was no magic to be found, no supernatural that they had observed, and that every miracle and disaster could be broken down into repeatable phenomena.¡± --Excerpt from ¡°The Rise of the New American Way.¡± 2030 *** The route cutting across the green zone and towards the first shelter I¡¯d marked out happened to cross before the hospital. So, with a pang on my conscience, I had the driver pull up and stop before the large building. Like most modern structures in New Montreal, the ground floor wasn¡¯t actually designed to be all that accessible for normal people. The real access, or accesses, were across the many sky bridges connecting to the blocky concrete building. There were ways into the hospital from the ground, of course. That¡¯s where most freight and supplies would come in from. Based on what I understood of city infrastructure, which was pretty much jack except what I¡¯d picked up via osmosis, the majority of traffic on ground levels was made up of self-driving delivery and cargo and the occasional biker gang. Foot traffic was reserved for the truly desperate, the dumb, and the vagrants. Cops wouldn¡¯t do anything for someone caught in a heap of shit on the ground, not unless there was some major incentive. It was one of the reasons why pretty young girls were told never to travel outside of a building. I figured the exception was when riding in a pair of armoured cars with eight or so heavily-armed soldier types. Our driver pulled up to a pair of reinforced double doors just by the entrance and slowed to a stop. ¡°We¡¯re here!¡± she said in a sing-song-y voice. I snorted and pushed my door open. She¡¯d been kind enough to park just under one of the lower bridges, so the constant drizzle didn¡¯t immediately ruin my almost-dried hair. Still, I pulled up the hood of my stealth coat, just in case. And then the inside of my hood went transparent, because of course it did. Monroe ran around the back of the car and made some arcane gestures towards the others. Soon enough there were three soldiers as well as Monroe with me, and each car had a guard as well as their driver keeping them safe. ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready,¡± Monroe said. I tried not to feel too self conscious as I moved towards the heavy, graffiti-covered doors. There was a plaque above them reading ¡®Patterson Research Hospital¡¯ in bold stainless-steel letters. I paused by the door, spotted a paint-covered doorbell-screen to one side, then sighed. ¡°They¡¯re expecting us, right?¡± I asked. Monroe nodded. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am. Our PMC and the security force here are linked.¡± I scratched at my cheek. Could I just ask that he call them up? Was that a bit too awkward? Could I have skipped this entire thing and done it over a vid-call? There was no point in beating myself up. I¡¯d just figure it out the next time. ¡°Got their number?¡± ¡°Ah, of course. Sorry,¡± Monroe said. ¡°I¡¯ll tell HQ to tell them that we¡¯re here.¡± And Monroe decided to take the blame. I wasn¡¯t used to adults assuming that I was in the right--especially when I wasn¡¯t--but I could get used to it. A bit of muffled babbling later, and the sergeant nodded. ¡°They¡¯re on their way, ma¡¯am.¡± Just as soon as he was done saying so, the door slid open with a gust of antiseptic air. The inside of the hospital, at least the one corridor I could see, looked like any other building I¡¯d seen, only with a whole lot more white. Standing in the entrance where two men and a woman, all geared up in vests and padded suits, shotguns held low by their sides. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. I licked dried lips then waved. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. The guns lowered. ¡°Are you the escorts?¡± the man in the lead said. I nodded. ¡°More or less.¡± He locked eyes with me, scanning me up and down. ¡°You don¡¯t look like a Clenze operative.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m just some two-bit Samurai who came along for fun.¡± I didn¡¯t know how to feel about the way all three of them stood taller at that. I decided to settle on smug. ¡°We¡¯re not evacuating just yet. I wanted to make sure everything was hunky-dory with you lot before moving on to, uh, another objective.¡± ¡°Hunky-dory?¡± one of them repeated. My next purchase was going to be a mask to hide my blushing. ¡°We should be fine,¡± the guy in the lead said. ¡°The patients that were easy to move have been evacuated already. The really critical ones were airlifted out. It¡¯s just the lower priority staff and the security teams left. We got permission to evac half an hour ago.¡± ¡°No patients?¡± I asked. He shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s a research hospital, ma¡¯am. Didn¡¯t have that many to begin with.¡± Well that was something. ¡°Alright... hey, how many of you security folk are in here? And staff too?¡± ¡°We¡¯re a team of twenty-seven,¡± he said. I nodded. That gave me some ideas. ¡°Okay. The Clenze transports should be here soon enough. Meanwhile, we¡¯re heading over to some of the shelters nearby. Try to get as many civvies out in one go as possible. Could I get you guys to help keep an eye on them?¡± ¡°I... don¡¯t think that would work with our protocols,¡± he hesitated. ¡°What if you fuck your protocols?¡± I countered. It must have been a pretty good argument, because he folded. We all kind of just stood there for a bit, rain pattering off the walls and street, turning into little rivulets that carried discarded wrappers towards already-clogged sewer openings. ¡°Well, that¡¯s that. We¡¯ll be back in a bit.¡± Your diplomatic skills are enviable. I snorted as I reached the car, tore the door open, and hopped in. ¡°I do try,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you have something to help with that?¡± There are some items that can. Social prediction software that displays a person¡¯s mood, pulse and their physical condition to help you predict their responses. Or you could buy a very large gun. That has also proven capable of convincing most humans. The driver looked over me, then to the others who were getting back into their own rides. ¡°That was fast. Where to now, boss?¡± ¡°That first shelter, the smaller one in the orange zone,¡± I said as I shifted on the hard plastic seat. Couldn¡¯t they afford some cushions for these things? The last door clacked shut, the car¡¯s engine turned on with an electric whine and we were off again. I hung on to a strap anchored to the ceiling and kept an eye on the route ahead. If orange zones were supposed to be dangerous, or more dangerous at least, then there was a good chance we¡¯d be running into some xenos sooner rather than later. ¡°Who decides on the zone colours anyway?¡± I muttered. The colours are designated based on the growth and danger predictions made by the AI companions of local Vanguard. They collate data from satellite and CCTV images, from deep ranging sensors and from the sensor suites mounted on some Vanguard¡¯s equipment, then use that data to predict the threat level of each area. This is then reduced to a simple coloured system because most Vanguard don¡¯t have the patience or time to compute the actual information themselves. ¡°Ouch,¡± I said. ¡°Sorry,¡± our driver said. ¡°Couldn¡¯t avoid that pothole.¡± ¡°No problem,¡± I said. ¡°So, uh, you got a name?¡± ¡°They call me Speedy,¡± she said. I blinked. ¡°Because you drive fast?¡± I asked. ¡°Nah, they caught me taking a lot of drugs, and it was either jail or joining this lot.¡± Speedy twisted out of the way of a car parked in the wrong lane, then, when a Model Three jumped into our path from out between two trucks, she floored it and rammed the creature¡¯s head off. I hung on to my seat and started looking for a belt. *** Chapter Fifty-Two - Down Down Down Chapter Fifty-Two - Down Down Down ¡°The Antithesis are, rightly, the stuff of many a nightmare. They are unreasonable, alien, and have an appetite for human flesh. They are the boogiemen made real, and they could be anywhere. Small hives have been found hundreds of kilometers away from incursion sites, sometimes weeks after the last hive in the region was declared eradicated. There are Models able to destroy entire city blocks all on their own. And yet, of all of the Models, there is none more terrifying than the Model Seven.¡± --Excerpt from a Lecture by Professor Sanderson, 2028 *** Speedy drove us to a stop before a tall, thin high rise three blocks and a bit over from the hospital. The building, like its neighbours, was tall and sleek, covered in bright stainless and mirrored windows. It wasn¡¯t one of the short-stack apartment blocks that fillled half the city, or one of those blocky factories that spat out plumes of smoke from three dozen vents on the roof. This was one of the fancy sorts of buildings where half the floors were corporate offices, and the rest homes for the kind of people that couldn¡¯t live without a view. I stopped craning my neck up and looked around the car as much as I could. No aliens, at least, none that I could see. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Back to the grind. Speedy, you¡¯re staying here?¡± ¡°Sure thing, boss lady,¡± Speedy said with a two finger salute. ¡°Two per vehicle,¡± Monroe said. ¡°The rest of us are with you.¡± We got out, the soldiers doing the fancy thing where they panned their guns left and right and looked around for anything that wanted to eat them. I looked up again, to make sure there weren¡¯t any surprises there, then took in the front of the building. The first three or so floors were all cement, no glass or windows and no decorations other than huge static ads for energy drinks, radio stations and the more popular porn livestreams. ¡°Ma¡¯am, door,¡± Monroe said as he removed a hand from the barrel of his gun to point to a door set in the side of the building. I shook off my lethargy, tried to put my game face on, realized that I didn¡¯t have or need one, and moved over to the door. The soldiers moved around it, two to a side, guns held so that they could spin around and clear the entrance the moment the door was opened. ¡°Wait just a sec,¡± I said. They relaxed a bit. ¡°Myalis, can you help me with this one?¡± Certainly. ¡°And I¡¯ll need a bit more help besides. Can I buy something to see through doors and such? Maybe a drone? To scout and such.¡± There are all sorts of drones available. I would advise against going the drone swarm route though. The micromanaging needed to use one well wouldn¡¯t suit you, I don¡¯t think. Perhaps a larger, more robust stealth drone? Something with a Class I AI that can serve as a partner? ¡°An AI like you?¡± I asked. No. I am a class XII Personal AI. I am far beyond your purchasing capability. A Class I AI would have the intelligence of a small mammal. A dog, or a cat, perhaps. The model I have in mind can be upgraded and improved over time. I had over a thousand points to burn. ¡°Sure.¡± New Purchase: Type One GG3R Stealth Drone Points Reduced to... 937 I was expecting a box to appear next to me. Instead a black cat appeared by my feet. It looked up to me with deep blue eyes, then sat down, its tail curling through the air this way and that. ¡°Uh,¡± Monroe said after a minute. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°Yeah, one sec,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis?¡± Yes? ¡°What the fuck?¡± Shall I go over its features? ¡°Features? It¡¯s a fucking cat?¡± Myalis giggled. The cat blinked away, leaving into a four-legged metal thing standing on the ground. No taller than my shins, it looked like a bulbous spider, with claw-tipped feet and a body made of the same bluish metal as my arm. I worked my jaw. ¡°Serious?¡± I asked. Very. It will obey verbal and signalled commands, as well as orders sent through your current equipment. I twitched. My AI was a sadistic, mean bitch who like fucking with me. But that would be better handled without Monroe and his buddies looking at me. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°It¡¯s a very expensive stealth drone,¡± I told the sergeant. He nodded. ¡°It¡¯s name is... Dumbass.¡± That would teach Myalis to give me stupid toys. I grit my teeth, then pointed to the screen next to the doorway. ¡°Dumbass, open that door.¡± The drone meowed at me before it bounced onto the wall, climbed up to the screen and placed a leg that split open to reveal a dataport atop the keypad below the screen. Soon it was jacked into the building¡¯s system, the screen flashing ¡®Unlocked¡¯ in bold green letters. The door slid open. Monroe and his buddies started, but they were quick to slip into the room, guns out ahead of them to scan the entrance. I pulled my Whisper from my shoulder and followed them in. The drone, I noticed, clicked after us and skittered along the wall like some sort of demented mechanical monster. If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯ll lead the way with the drone. It will guide you to the shelter. ¡°Follow the drone,¡± I said as we reached an intersection. The lighting in the building was, in a word, piss poor. For all that the upper floors were fancy, it was obvious that someone had only installed a bulb at every other light. It was clean though, the corridors free of junk and the floors marked by the tale-tale scrub marks from an automated sweeper. I watched the squad check every corridor, every closet, and every room as if they were hiding a monster. They moved with next to no sound, each step measured, their bodies held low with their guns pointing wherever they looked. It made me feel like an amatuer. I was clunking along behind them, walking bold as day, and yet making less noise than any one of them because of my magic cheat-y boots. I leaned forwards a bit, my grip on the underside of my new rifle¡¯s barrel tightening as I imitated the way they stood. Did it serve a purpose? We reached a stairwell. Unlike those in the last shithole building I¡¯d been stuck in, this one climbed up for more than one floor, with landings at every level. ¡°Which floor is the shelter on?¡± I asked. It¡¯s in the second basement. I turned my gaze down to the stairs leading lower. ¡°Well okay then,¡± I said. ¡°Monroe, do you want to split the party, or do we move as a group?¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather we stay together, ma¡¯am,¡± the soldier said. I nodded. ¡®Then let¡¯s go see what¡¯s waiting for us down below.¡± My new drone hopped down the steps one at a time with faint little clicks only to pause as it reached the bottom. You might want to see this. ¡°Hold,¡± I whispered. The soldiers stopped, guns coming to bear as they looked for a threat. ¡°Can I see?¡± I¡¯m linking the drone¡¯s feed to your eye gear. The HUD over my left eye filled with a view of a stairwell, the same one we were on. I saw myself from below, looking a bit awkward behind the four soldiers. The camera panned over to the steps leading down. There was a body there. A human. He was resting at the bottom of the next flight down, back against the wall next to an open door, a gun on his lap and his brains all over the ceiling. The corridor next to him was pitch black, with a faint red light glowing at the end. I swallowed some bile. ¡°Suicide?¡± I asked. Perhaps. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose that corridor is the one with the vault?¡± It is. I sighed. ¡°Monroe, you have lights?¡± The man nodded. ¡°We do.¡± He tapped on something on his vest and a panel on its front flared up, then he did something with his rifle and a tiny encased LED popped out from under the barrel and lit the passage before him. His men did the same. ¡°Good, good. Cause I¡¯m not the superstitious sort, but I''ve got a bad feeling about all of this.¡± I stomped--silently--past the soldiers while working through some menus with my eye gear. Finding the controls for all of my gear was pretty simple. Everything had icons, from my boots to my gun to the Hydra system on my back. I blinked at the one for my coat, then with a flick of my eyes to the side, I turned invisible. ¡°I want a coat like that,¡± I heard one of the boys mutter behind me. I just snorted and moved on. *** Chapter Fifty-Three - Z-Word Chapter Fifty-Three - Z-Word ¡°The survivors of the first mass Incursion, most of them Americans living in Ohio, were lauded as heroes. Their accounts were big news, their stories shared by millions. The survivors of the next incursion didn¡¯t get the same attention. Those who made it through the third barely got any notice. By the fourth, most insurance companies had lobbied to add ¡®alien invasions¡¯ from the ¡®acts of god¡¯ category. They came away from it traumatized, destitute, and with no one there to help them. Things haven¡¯t gotten better.¡± --Excerpt from John Delancy¡¯s ¡°Three Times Unto the Breach.¡± A Noted survivor of three of the earliest incursions. 2026 *** I¡¯d never been keen on horror games. Oh, sure, I¡¯d tried a few. The orphanage had a VR room for a few weeks at one point until someone broke in and stole the gear we¡¯d been donated. It was old even when we got it, but it worked. Some of the more tech-savvy kids had pirated all sorts of shitty little games. They also got into a heap of shit for breaking DRMs, but that was besides the point. Point was, I¡¯d played a few games, usually with Lucy nearby and clinging onto me whenever something popped out from around a corner screaming like a banshee. We¡¯d even tried some full-dive stuff at our school, but the machine to connect to MeshSpace was an old decrepit thing, and the few horror movies we¡¯d watched all felt terribly gimmicky when seen in glorious 30 frames per second. Crawling through a rat¡¯s nest of maintenance corridors, following a set of red lights that were guiding us deeper and deeper in towards a shelter that we couldn¡¯t see was way higher on the creepy scale. Monroe and his boys turned this way and that, lighting up sections of the corrior in flashes that passed as soon as they turned. ¡°You guys seem nervous,¡± I said. ¡°I think, ma¡¯am, that it¡¯s because we are,¡± Monroe returned with a whisper. I swung my crossbow around towards some movement, only to realize it was a moth being stupid next to one of the lights. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to file a complaint to whomever took out half the damned lights,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll help you with that,¡± Monroe agreed. My drone skittered ahead to the edge of the next corridor, then tipped forwards just enough to see around the corner. A moment later a tiny box in the corner of my vision showed me yet another drab grey corridor. Only this one, at last, had a door. ¡°Shelter¡¯s ahead,¡± I murmured. ¡°Got it,¡± Monroe said. ¡°We¡¯ll fan out by the entrance. Can you negotiate?¡± ¡°I might not have to,¡± I said as I frowned. The vault door was open. It was one of those real vaults, with a door that was a foot thick chunk of steel with enough hydraulic doodads to let it move in and out of its place. Probably not enough to stop one of the bigger xenos, but more than enough for any of those I¡¯d encountered so far. It wouldn¡¯t stop anything if left open though. Light was pouring out of the shelter and onto the pipe-covered wall opposite. I paused by the corner and listened as hard as I could. No voices, but the swishing of clothes rubbing together and the occasional cough and mutter. Were they just being quiet? Maybe the door failed? But if that was the case, why leave the lights on? ¡°Dumbass,¡± I muttered. ¡°Go check.¡± The drone bobbed up and down in what I assumed was a ¡®yes ma¡¯am¡¯ before darting ahead. Halfway to the door the drone went invisible. Worth every point, that one. With a twitch of my eye the drone¡¯s vision grew larger across one of my eyes and I took in a perfect, ground-level view of the approaching shelter. It reached the door and skittered to the front of it, its little body turning to face the entrance. I swallowed. The people we were there to save were all present. Sixty or so bodies, all sitting on the ground, or laying down and sometimes swaying. They were clumped together as one big group, their eyes staring vacantly, some with drool leaking out of their mouths. There was blood across the ground, and the crushed bodies of some smaller aliens that I didn¡¯t recognize right away. They were smaller than the Model Ones, more worms with little legs than anything I could match to a normal animal. ¡°What the fuck?¡± I whispered. The drone panned to the side, revealing a trio of security guards who were still armed. All three had their heads blown off, and judging by the way they were positioned, they¡¯d done the deed themselves. ¡°Myalis?¡± I hissed. Model Sevens. One of the stranger kinds of Antithesis. Also, arguably, the least threatening to a Samurai. They can burrow into a human¡¯s body and sprout roots that take over their nervous system. It can take hours for a perfect connection to be established. Mostly they¡¯ll walk these bodies back to the nearest hive for consumption, but they have been used as ambush troops before. The psychological aspects are probably not understood by the Antithesis, but they are nonetheless effective. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Jesus fuck,¡± I said. I¡¯d heard of them, of course. There was a nostalgic return of zombie flicks when I was small. They¡¯d been really unpopular with people who knew what a Model Seven was. I didn¡¯t know the grisly details though. The humans are most likely dead already. Soon the Model Sevens within them will begin to modify their base biology, some will be turned into breeders for more Model Sevens and others will be modified to fulfil various tasks. ¡°What do you mean by most likely dead?¡± I asked. ¡°You mean they might still be alive?¡± No one had ever covered that part for me before. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± Monroe asked. ¡°Model Sevens,¡± I said. The soldiers all tensed for just a moment before spinning around. They looked up and down, searching every nook and cranny around us as if it would start spewing worm-shaped body horror nightmares. ¡°Ma¡¯am, do you have Seven pills?¡± I blinked at the question. Model Seven Proofing pills are a nanite pill that prevents Model Sevens from being able to suborn a human¡¯s nervous system. They cost one point for a pack of ten. You might not need one, though it wouldn¡¯t hurt to take one anyway. Your companions aren¡¯t offered the same protection. ¡°Hurry it up then,¡± I said. New Purchase: Model Seven Proofing Pill Points Reduced to... 936! The pills came in a little wrapper thing, just like bubble gum only with off-green tablets instead of something chewable. I felt like every teen in a classroom who had gum as I popped a tab for each of the soldiers, then took one myself. Those are good for twelve to fourteen hours. Taking more than one tablet in that period is unadvised. ¡°The people in there?¡± I asked. Myalis actually took a moment to reply. They would need to be verified. If the Model Seven¡¯s roots have reached their brains, then it¡¯s too late. Some people take longer to be taken over than others. There is a medical utility you could use to perform the scans yourself, but I would advise you instead modify your drone to be able to do the scans itself. This function would cost you fifty points. ¡°Do it,¡± I said. Being stuck in a body that was no longer under your control... that was Lucy¡¯s nightmare, and it was one that I could sympathize with. New Purchase: Short Range Drone-Operated Medical Scanner Points Reduced to... 886 The box that appeared was no bigger than a pack of cigarettes. I had hardly picked it up before my drone reappeared by my side, turned around, and opened up its back to expose a bunch of empty slots. The scanner was a plastic cartridge that was surprisingly heavy for its size. It fit into one of the slots as if it was meant to go there. Dumbass froze for a moment, then shivered. ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a sign it¡¯s ready,¡± I said. ¡°Okay. let¡¯s go play nurse with some zombies.¡± ¡°I hope we won¡¯t be entering CQC with them, ma¡¯am,¡± Monroe said. I shook my head. ¡°Nah. Dumbass here can now tell us which zombie is... a zombie and which is still a person. We¡¯re saving those we can. It¡¯s why we came.¡± ¡°Uh. Yes ma¡¯am.¡± We entered the room to be greeted by a few heads soundlessly jerking our way. It eclipsed the poorly lit corridors on the creepy scale. ¡°Dumbass, start with the nearest,¡± I said. Some of the zombies started to climb to their feet. ¡°And you guys stay down,¡± I warned. If they are that mobile, it¡¯s too late for them. One of them made it to their feet and lurched in our direction, movements jerky at first but smoothing out a few steps later. Their jaw opened wide, too wide, revealing a mouth full of white worms, pushing up from the gums between too-human teeth, swaying like grass in a breeze. I closed my eyes. Sometimes I hated how callous I was. Other times it was the only thing keeping me sane. Whisper came up. A faint sound, like someone exhaling, burst out from the crossbow-rifle. One of the zombies collapsed to the ground. Then it exploded, sending bits of human and white vine-like tendrils all over the room. The worst part, after I ducked under a bit of office worker, was the silence from the explosion. Then the air filled with eau de dead guy and I reconsidered what the worst part was. ¡°Oh fuck, I¡¯m going to be sick,¡± I muttered. And then I was. Chapter Fifty-Four - Setting to Boil Chapter Fifty-Four - Setting to Boil ¡°One. That¡¯s how many Antithesis bodies need to be left forgotten in order to restart an incursion. Though I suppose calling it an incursion isn¡¯t right. Still, the point remains. One body left in some closet with enough mass still stuck to it, and you have all the ingredients for a second wave of aliens. You don¡¯t want your country to pull another Serov, Russia, or a Santa-Cruz de Sierra. So when you go out there, bagging bodies for disposal, you make sure that there isn¡¯t so much as a limp alien dick left out there.¡± --Major Hunt to Clenze cleanup team. March 2054 *** The soldiers didn¡¯t seem to react too much to my blowing someone up and splattering us all with gooped human. I don¡¯t know if that was up to their training, if they were just tough as fuck, or if they were reacting but their helmetted heads just hid it from view. In the end it didn¡¯t matter. I set Whisper next to the wall by the entrance and had Dumbass scout one of the bathrooms to make sure it was zombie free. After cleaning off my face, I returned to find two of the soldiers dragging some very dead bodies off to one side. They riddled them with holes while I was gone and I hadn¡¯t heard more than a few pops. Are you feeling better? I nodded. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine,¡± I lied. ¡°Hey, can I have one of those juice boxes? Need to clear my mouth.¡± New Purchase: Nutri-Pack Points Reduced to... 890 I stuck the little straw in the little straw hole and tried not to notice the increase in points as I stepped back into the shelter proper. ¡°We have them all lined up, ma¡¯am,¡± Monroe said. True to his word, the people from the shelter were all placed in more or less neat rows across the floor. Some of them were rolling out of position, or were twitching so hard that they were shifting up and down the rows, but it didn¡¯t matter. Just short of sixty people, all of them alive, but how many of them were still human? ¡°Myalis, want to walk me through this?¡± I asked before stuffing the straw in my mouth. I¡¯d never really cared much for alcohol before, but I was considering it now. Your drone can scan each individual and see whether or not it¡¯s too late for them. If it is, I would suggest immediate destruction of their brain matter, followed by liquefaction of their body. It¡¯s a little morbid, but they¡¯re already dead. There¡¯s no point in allowing them to become enemies. Those who are still salvageable can be saved using tools from your Medical Utilities catalogue. The price will vary based on severity. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Monroe, Dumbass will show you those that can be saved. The rest.¡± I swallowed. ¡°Go for the brain. We¡¯ll take care of the bodies later.¡± I left the soldiers to their grisly work, picked up my Whisper, and stomped out of the shelter. I pretended not to hear the negative sounding beeps from Dumbass followed by dull pops. Instead, I looked around the corridor and hugged my crossbow close to my chest. ¡°You know, I was expecting a bit more heroics and less... this,¡± I said. The work of a Vanguard is sometimes rather grisly. I¡¯m sorry. She actually sounded genuine there. ¡°Not your fault, right?¡± I asked. The Antithesis aren¡¯t just a threat to humanity. No. I frowned into the darkness. ¡°Yeah. Fucking bug bastards.¡± Plants, actually. ¡°Really?¡± I asked. ¡°I thought that was... you know, internet bullshit.¡± I blinked a few times as I peered into the dark, then my new eye flickered and the darkness suddenly receded. It was only in the one eye though. Annoying. It¡¯s accurate. When we first found the Antithesis they were a non-spacefaring ecological creature. A bizarre mix of different phenotypes and what was at-first assumed to be different species. Some study soon revealed them to be one species of plant life. The Models that you have been fighting are all, technically, fruit. I blinked. ¡°Huh?¡± They have seeds within them. Each Antithesis corpse has the potential to become an entire hive given enough time and biological resources. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°I heard of quarantine shit before, but... yeah, that¡¯s not good.¡± The enemy is nothing if not persistent. Something shuffled from behind me. I spun around, searching for what had made the noise. It could have been anything from the ventilation turning on to a rat passing by, but I¡¯d seen enough horror shit not to just dismiss random noises. ¡°Myalis. Can I have bolts that don¡¯t make things explode?¡± I asked. What an unusual request from you. Might I suggest the Mark I Scatterbolt? The bolt splits in mid-air, releasing a payload of monofilament glass needles. The bolts are equipped with a rudimentary sensor that times the split for maximum coverage. I nodded. ¡°Sounds good enough,¡± I said. New Purchase: Scatterbolt Magazine Points Reduced to... 888 The new magazine appeared in my outstretched hand. I shoved it in my pocket as I fiddled with the release under my Whisper. Once that was off, I slid the new magazine in place and pulled the bolt back to remove the concussion bolt left in the shamber. I moved towards the end of the corridor, the same one we¡¯d come from, and felt like I was already missing Dumbass. ¡°Need more drones,¡± I muttered. Noted. I reached the corner, then swept around, crossbow pointing first one way, then another. And there was a whole lot of nothing to aim at, just a bunch of pipes and shadows cast by red warning lights. I licked my lips. ¡°Myalis, my hydra guns, please.¡± Deploying. I felt my coat shift a bit, then my back-mounted guns poked through the magnetically attached flap over my shoulders and began to scan my surroundings. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± I jumped about six feet in the air and spun around to face a Monroe who had his arms up in surrender. ¡°We¡¯re done, ma¡¯am.¡± I sighed. ¡°Can¡¯t you be a bit noisier?¡± I asked. ¡°Being quiet tends to keep you alive in places like this,¡± he said. ¡°Until I shoot you for scaring me shitless,¡± I muttered as I returned to the shelter. Within was a scene of methodological slaughter. Corpses, their heads filled with precise holes, were lined up where moving bodies had been before. The floor was one big pool of mixing blood and swimming white shapes that filled the air with a coppery tang. The remaining members of Monroe¡¯s squad were moving about it all as if it was nothing. I swallowed past another surge of bile, pulled out the last of my juice box and drank the rest. The sweet taste did fuck all to make the scene better, but it was distracting. ¡°Those seven are the only ones,¡± Monroe said as he pointed off to the side. There were, as he said, seven people in a row off to one side, all of them writhing and moving under the glare of the neon lights. ¡°Can one of your guys help me? The rest of you should probably check on the door.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± Monroe said. He called out a few orders and was soon joined by two of his guys. They moved off to the door while I moved to the not-yet-zombie people. ¡°Okay. Okay. We can save them,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis. Please tell me there¡¯s an easy way to save them?¡± Easy? No. But they can be saved if you act quickly. It will be costly though. ¡°Fuck cost,¡± I said. Good! The first step will be stopping the spread of the Model Seven¡¯s roots within their bodies. Then a Neuro-Regenerative to repair any damage to their brains. Following this with a Nano-Regenerative Suite should suffice. They are likely to have difficulties moving for some time, but the effects will wear off eventually. I nodded and took in the seven before me. Two of them were kids. One an older woman, another a man that was so fat he was past overweight and nearing the obscene. Just normal people. People just like the dead behind me. ¡°Let¡¯s get to work then,¡± I said. New Purchase: Full Body Purge x7 Points Reduced to... 853 The boxes that appeared each held a mask that had a sort of inhaler fixed onto it, one with a big red button at the top. I tossed a few to the soldier that had stayed to help me, then got to my knees next to the nearest not-a-zombie. There was something boiling in my chest. A sort of loathing for everything the Antithesis had done. It soothed over some of the disgust I felt. Chapter Fifty-Five - Low Expectations Chapter Fifty-Five - Low Expectations ¡°Don¡¯t fuck with Samurai. It¡¯s pretty much the most important memo sent out to corporate drones. And yet, every year, there''s a smooth brained idiot that shoves their own foot so deep into their mouth that they tickle their brain stem. The problem is that so many Samurai work hard to cultivate a certain image. They¡¯re nice, or silly, or fun. They do charity streams, volunteer for things, and donate money in their own name to help their community. Idiots will think that they¡¯re soft-hearted. But as soft as the tiger may be, it still has teeth and claws, and if you fuck with its children, it will mess you up. So a ¡®mistake¡¯ happens. Some office drone gets their remains spread across three time zones, and then the entire corporation needs to backpedal. The next week, like clockwork, a new memo goes around. Don¡¯t fuck with Samurai.¡± --Excerpt from a corporate training video, 2041 *** I wasn¡¯t fond of those weird platitudes, the half-true words people used to make something awful sound normal. They had plenty of euphemisms for the kittens. ¡®Differently abled under privileged children with no solid parental figures,¡¯ was an entire mouthful, but it¡¯s what we heard whenever someone came along who was too pussy to call us all crippled orphans. I hated that kind of crap. It was fake and it always sounded so damned condescending. It¡¯s why I knelt before the two kids in the group of seven, the only seven in the entire shelter who had survived and I did my best to meet their eyes. ¡°You came down here with anyone?¡± I asked. They glanced over to the bodies. The soldier Monroe had left with me was covering each one with a blanket he pulled from the emergency supplies. He didn¡¯t have to, but I appreciated the gesture. ¡°Mom,¡± the girl of the pair said. ¡°She came with us.¡± I nodded, worked my jaw a little, then bit the bullet. ¡°She¡¯s dead.¡± The girl grabbed onto the boy. They had to be nine-ten years old. Smart enough to understand. Their eyes filled with tears. ¡°You couldn¡¯t save her?¡± she asked. ¡°You, you saved us. I thought you were an angel and...¡± She clutched at her chest, pulling on a necklace. ¡°There¡¯s no such thing, kid,¡± I said. ¡°And I¡¯m just a bitch who didn¡¯t get here fast enough. But you¡¯re alive. So is your brother. I¡¯d like to keep it that way.¡± I got to my feet and looked at the other survivors. The old woman looked like she could chew nails, the fat guy was teary-eyed, but wasn¡¯t meeting my gaze. The others looked a little dazed, but they were healthy enough. ¡°We¡¯re moving in three minutes,¡± I said. With that, I moved off towards the shelter¡¯s entrance. Monrow met me halfway. ¡°We¡¯re hearing stuff out there. Our scanners picked up some motion too, but nothing actionable.¡± That they had scanners was news to me, but it wasn¡¯t too surprising. ¡°Yeah, okay,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re moving in a little bit. I... need to set things up to dispose of the bodies. I¡¯ll take point after with Dumbass. Can your guys keep the rear safe?¡± He nodded. ¡°Speedy reported that there are a few Model Threes out there. Nothing bigger yet.¡± Right. I¡¯d forgotten that we couldn¡¯t afford to stay put forever. ¡°Just get ready. I might give your guys some bombs with timers to leave behind. As a gift.¡± I don¡¯t know what gave it away, but I could tell he was pleased. ¡°We¡¯ll look forward to it,¡± he said. Turning back to the rows of bodies, I let out a sigh that felt like adding ten pounds to my hack. ¡°Myalis. We¡¯ll need something for the bodies.¡± A few Mark I Flesh Melters would work well enough, I suspect. I nodded. ¡°I guess so.¡± I waited for Monroe¡¯s man to finish adding the last blanket, then waved him over. ¡°We¡¯re heading out. Wanna help me move everyone into the corridor?¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± he said. Getting everyone up onto their feet was a bit of a chore, they looked like people who had just gone all out at the gym and who were now regretting it. Even the kids had a hard time walking. Still, they didn¡¯t complain. I wonder if it was because it took too much effort, or if it was because they realized how close they¡¯d come to dying. The girl tore her necklace off and flung it deep into the room before stepping out. Tough little brat. She reminded me of my kittens. ¡°Myalis?¡± I asked. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. A moment later I had a trio of grenades in hand which I flung into the room. And that was that. Monroe and I took the lead, the other three soldiers stuck to the rear, and with the kind of speed I was used to when leading brats around, we moved towards the exit. I tucked Whisper against my shoulder and pretended not to hear the sniffling coming from right behind me. ¡°Dumbass,¡± I said. ¡°Scout ahead.¡± My little drone skittered past up to the next corner. I wasn¡¯t expecting to see a dozen tentacles spearing out towards the drone. ¡°Shit,¡± Monroe said as he brought up his gun. He fired a burst that clipped some of the fleshy tendrils. Whisper hissed and soon the air next to the tentacles filled with subsonic shards of glass. Dumbass skittered back over to where we were, and the civilians behind us huddled in close. ¡°Stay calm.¡± I ordered as I stared ahead. A few twitching tentacles were left on the ground, but no Model Four appeared. I stepped up, moved to the opposite end of the corridor and, when I got closer, peaked around the corner. A trail of green blood led off a way and then moved around another corner. ¡°Fuck. It¡¯s moved on,¡± I said. I looked around again, expecting some new big nasty to jump out at me, but nothing came around. ¡°Right. Myalis, can I have like... mines or something?¡± For an extra point you could replace the triggering mechanism on any of your explosives with a sensor-based one. I would suggest learning how to do that with an explosive that won¡¯t kill you when you inevitably mess up. I snorted, the bit of humour unexpected. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Monroe, I¡¯ll be taking the rear for a bit. Dumbass, keep scouting ahead.¡± I bought a Resonator grenade while the soldiers and civvies moved past, then started eyeing the sensor... thing on top of it. There were two settings, one had a small icon of a broken line, the other an open eye. In the middle was a sort of lens. The primary setting is a laser. Once broken the explosive detonates. The second is a motion detector. It gives you twenty seconds after activation to remove yourself from the area. I flicked on the first open, found the big on button behind it, and pressed it. A red light flashed out of the grenade, forming a line between me and the floor. One that immediately broke the moment I moved. I flung the Resonator away as it started wailing. I would say I¡¯m impressed, but it¡¯s very much the opposite. ¡°Shut up,¡± I grumbled. All of my companions were looking over to me, so I stood taller and hoped that they couldn¡¯t see the colour of my face in the poor lighting. ¡°Just covering our rear,¡± I said. ¡°Keep moving.¡± They kept moving, some of them pressing hands over their ears to block out the racket from the grenade. I jogged up to the nearest soldier while muttering to Myalis. By the time I caught up I had a handful of resonators to give him. ¡°Place these on the ground behind us, laser bit pointing away. Also, activate it after you place it. Not before.¡± The soldier cradled the grenades like a live baby. ¡°Um. Yes ma¡¯am,¡± he said as he passed his rifle to his partner. I moved back to the front of the group while unslinging Whisper from my back. ¡°We should be safe from behind,¡± I said. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. ¡°Good idea with the lure back there.¡± ¡°Yeah. Thanks.¡± This is just humiliating. I hope I can expunge all evidence of this from any record or the other AI will mock me for eons. Our path continued unmolested by any aliens until we reached the stairwell. At some point, the lights had gone out. Worse, the body we¡¯d left untouched by the door was long gone. I saw Monroe reaching up to touch the side of his helmet. He nodded, and I heard muffled speech coming through before he turned my way. ¡°The cars are meeting a lot more resistance now. I think they¡¯ve been marked.¡± Nodding, I gestured out ahead. ¡°Then we¡¯ll get to them in a hurry.¡± I shook off the bad feeling roiling in my stomach. How many shelters had stories just like this one? We weren¡¯t even supposed to come here until I insisted. And the orange zone would only grow bigger as time moved on. As I stepped into the stairwell and began looking for trouble, a small part of me was hoping that I wasn¡¯t the only idiot out there doing her best to keep folk alive. Chapter Fifty-Six - Leaving a Gift Behind Chapter Fifty-Six - Leaving a Gift Behind ¡°There was a time where the global market was, if not stable, then at least predictable. Prices rose and fell based on tangible things. Governments across the world had good reason to make sure that things stayed nice and even and that spikes, either huge growth or large drops, didn¡¯t occur too often. And then aliens started invading random cities, governments broke up, massive mega corporations only dreamed up in our worst nightmares rose up, and there were suddenly gods among men walking about. To say that the economy now is a wild, fluctuating thing would be a massive understatement.¡± --Arthur Newton, Economist, 2045 *** We were halfway up the first set of stairs when I heard the familiar keening of a Resonator going off from behind us. I paused on the next step up and tried to listen as best I could. I wanted to hope it was just a rat, but my luck was never that good. When the grenade stopped suddenly, as if someone had pulled the power, I knew things were going to get interesting. ¡°Faster,¡± I said. No one saw fit to complain. By the time we had reached the first floor, I heard two more resonators going off below us. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± the soldier at the very back said. ¡°There¡¯s only the ones on the stairs left.¡± I nodded and refocused on the path ahead. ¡°Myalis. I need something that will make the route behind us unpassable. Got anything like that?¡± I have a few things that could collapse the building, but I think you¡¯re looking for a more... temporary solution. There¡¯s the Mark I Heavy Smoke grenade. ¡°To blind them?¡± I asked. That could work. It acts more like an aerosolized acid that is heavy enough that it tends to stay more or less in one place in the air. And before you ask, no, this isn¡¯t the sort of acid that will melt anything following you. It will ruin their lungs if they have them, and will injure most Models quite substantially. ¡°Good enough,¡± I said. ¡°Give me a pair.¡± New Purchase: Heavy Gas grenade Mark I, two units Points Reduced to... 453 I held my hands up just long enough to catch a pair of surprisingly heavy canisters. They looked like energy drink cans that mated with an egg timer. I shoved both in my jacket¡¯s pockets and ran up the last few steps. ¡°Monroe, can you keep everyone here safe? I¡¯m going to give the monsters below a parting gift.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± he said. With a few gestures he directed his men towards the door to the main floor and two others towards the stairs leading up. I nodded. It was nice working with professionals. I... couldn¡¯t imagine myself working the way they did. Myalis was right to call me the lone wolf sort. I¡¯d chafe under someone giving me orders like that, but I could appreciate how well his team worked together. With the civvies huddling together in the middle, panting and gulping for breath and trying to get already unstead legs to calm down, I felt it best to give them a minute or two. Returning down the first flight of stairs was a bit annoying. It got a lot more annoying when I heard something shuffling below. I paused, pulled out one of the gas grenades, then called down. ¡°If you¡¯re human, bark twice.¡± The shuffling continued. I was about to pull the red tab and toss the grenade down when I hesitated. What if it was someone? Carefully, with my boots doing more of the work to keep me silent, I moved down one flight, then looked around the corner. There were three people there. Humans. Or maybe ex-humans was better. They were shambling, walking with awkward steps. Wide-open mouths revealed far, far too many worms clogging their throats. Even their eyes, unfocused and filled with a primal pain, had worms wriggling out of the corners. Right behind them, moving on long tentacles connected to a pod-like body, was an alien that I¡¯d never seen before. But it was all-black except for a green underbelly, and that was enough for me to label it as trouble. I pulled the tab and dropped the first grenade right by my feet. The clunk had them looking up just as I flung the second over their shoulders. They followed it with listless gazes, then turned back towards me. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Creepy fucks, aren¡¯t you,¡± I said as I pulled out my Trench Maker. ¡°Sorry.¡± I started climbing back up just as the floor started to fill with a purple fog that slowly dropped down the stairs. Where I saw it touching human flesh, it ate away at first the hair, then the skin, and then started to burn its way through the bone beneath. Targets Eliminated Reward... 40 points If anything came up those stairs it would need a new pair of shoes once they reached the top. ¡°Are you okay, ma¡¯am?¡± Monroe asked. ¡°We heard gunshots.¡± ¡°We had followers,¡± I said. ¡°We should be good.¡± The path from the stairwell to the front was more or less a straight line. One that seemed alien free. Still, I sent Dumbass ahead just to make sure. When my little drone didn¡¯t get splattered by a passing tentacle monster, I started to lead the others towards the exit. The rhythmic thump-thump-thump of machine gun fire from just ahead had me walking a bit faster. I shoved open the door leading outside to find the two cars parked differently. They¡¯d moved closer, forming a wedge near the door. The two non-driver soldiers were out of their cars, using the hoods as cover to fire out into the distance while the gun emplacements on the roofs spat out a few hundred rounds into the distance. ¡°What the shit?¡± I muttered. Monroe pushed past, his voice coming out of his helmet with muffled orders. The soldiers that were with us were quick to form up by the cars and set their guns to take aim at anything coming our way. I turned to the civvies and pulled them closer to the middle. ¡°Down! Down on your knees. Quick. We don¡¯t need you getting smacked by a stray round,¡± I said. Once I made sure the door was shut behind me, I turned around fully and tried to take in more than just what was happening right around us. There were aliens, a whole load of them poking out from around the nearest intersections and sometimes sprinting all out towards our position. Not too many at a time, but enough that the bodies were piling up. The main thrust of the incursion is coming closer. These are the advanced scouts. Within the hour, this street will be like the one below the building where we first met. That meant that soon we¡¯d be drowning in aliens. ¡°We need to get out of here,¡± I said. Monroe turned my way. ¡°We don¡¯t have room for everyone,¡± he said. It was the lack of emotion in the statement that made it so damned chilling. And he was right. There weren¡¯t enough seats in the cars. Even if people were sitting in each other''s laps and we tossed everything out. I worked my jaw as I tried to think of something. I could maybe buy a car? I doubted it. A trailer? Then I saw all the trucks just... parked in the road, some of them still idling in place. A few were old enough that they still had cabins for drivers. ¡°Myalis, you got that cyberwarfare shit running?¡± Of course. Do you have a no-doubt brilliant idea? ¡°Check the trucks around here. Can you see what they¡¯re loaded with? We need one that¡¯s easy to empty and that we can use as transport.¡± That... is actually not a dumb idea. Checking. And done. The red vehicle to your left is loaded with two tones of one-ply brand recycled toilet paper. It should be easy enough to unload. I eyed the rather old-looking red truck, one of those models from way back in 2030 when trucks still had drivers. ¡°That¡¯ll do,¡± I said. It looked sturdy enough, but what mattered was that it could move. ¡°Monroe. We¡¯re doing a bit of grand theft truck. I¡¯ll need a couple of your guys to move it.¡± He looked at me, then at the truck I was pointing to. ¡°We¡¯re not trained to drive a truck like that,¡± he said. ¡°I am!¡± Speedy said. ¡°One of you take over the turrets. I¡¯ll go with the kid.¡± She got a thumbs up and, not wasting one more minute, started towards the truck. I had to jog to catch up. ¡°This is a bit of a crazy plan,¡± I said. I couldn¡¯t see Speedy¡¯s face, but I knew she was grinning. ¡°That¡¯s probably why I like it. Plus I¡¯ve always wanted to drive one of these.¡± The odds we were going to make it out seemed simply spectacular. *** Chapter Fifty-Seven - Collateral Damage

Chapter Fifty-Seven - Collateral Damage ¡°Collateral Damage is my middle name!¡± --Tracy ¡®Collateral Damage¡¯ Weiss, Tier 3 Samurai, defending herself in court after excessive property damages caused during the Lancashire Incursion *** The truck might have been a bit of a clunker, but it was in good enough shape. I could spot patches of paint over rusted bits and could tell that a few of the exterior parts had been replaced. Growing up as I had, it was easy to tell when something was old but well-maintained. Myalis had picked out something that wasn¡¯t terrible. I shouldered Whisper and pulled out ahead of Speedy. The woman¡¯s only weapon was a handgun that she was holding out ahead of her. I had to keep her safe until we could get moving. We came around the front of the truck and stopped. There were Model Threes rushing around, an entire pack of them, their clawed feet clicking across the pavement. Speedy was quick to snap a shot at the nearest. Not to be outdone, I fired at the next in the line and watched as the bolt I¡¯d fired split apart and crashed into the Model Three I¡¯d aimed at. Seeing the alien get shredded was satisfying, but there were a lot more of them behind it. ¡°Fire!¡± I called out. My Lancejets started spitting out thin rows of missiles that pelted the nearest aliens. I joined in, firing until my Whisper clicked empty. By the time that happened I was out of xenos to target. A look towards the far end of the street showed a couple of them coming around the corner. Not just Models Threes. I spotted a few of those worms and some Model Fours in the lot too. The tide was rolling over towards our position. ¡°Get in the truck,¡± I said. Speedy nodded, a spent magazine falling behind her as she rushed to the driver¡¯s side and hopped up to the door. ¡°It¡¯s locked!¡± ¡°Myalis?¡± I asked as I slotted the concussion bolts back into Whisper. Unlocking the truck now. And I¡¯m deactivating all of its safety systems for good measure. Speedy was in the truck a moment later, its engine revving to life. The window rolled down. ¡°Where to?¡± ¡°Get closer to the others,¡± I said. ¡°Empty the back and load the civilians in.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am!¡± The truck backed up a bit, then turned to head closer to the others. That was one thing done. It only left a whole bunch of aliens to deal with. ¡°Myalis, how are we on ammo?¡± I asked as I moved away from the others. I crossed under a spot where there were no bridges above and let the rain splatter across my hood. You could use a few more magazines for your shoulder mounted weapons. Your handguns are fine except for one partially used magazine in your Trench Maker. You are not carrying any additional ammunition for your Whisper. ¡°Hrm,¡± I said as I reached a poorly parked truck. It had large protrusions on its sides over its wheels. Placing Whisper there, I crouched a bit, made sure my jacket¡¯s invisibility was working, then ordered some ammo from Myalis. It took a bit to restock everything, but it was better to do it now than when in the heat of battle. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Time to kill things.¡± I pulled up Whisper and aimed down its sights. My tactical visor did point to where the gun was aiming, but it felt cooler to shoot it properly. The Model Three in the lead was only a hundred meters off by then, and it was coming in fast. Whisper hissed and a bolt plunged into the alien¡¯s chest. A moment later it exploded, the burst nearly silent if it wasn¡¯t for the clatter of alien bits smacking the road. I aimed at the next, another Model Three, and fired. Then the next. The ammo counter in the corner of my vision slid down to nothing and I swore. It¡¯d taken out a dozen or so aliens, some of them blasted apart even if I hit the bastard next to them. That still left a lot of them. Looking past the front of the horde, I could make out Model Sixes coming around. ¡°Myalis, I¡¯ll need something with more bang.¡± How much bang? ¡°Clear the road bang?¡± I asked. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.Then perhaps I can offer a unique solution! ¡°I¡¯m listening,¡± I said. My shoulder mounted guns spat a few rounds, taking out the Model Threes leading the pack. I can offer you some highly compressed canisters of... my records show that you failed nearly every chemistry class you¡¯ve had. Nevermind. Suffice to say that they¡¯re canisters of a gas that burns very well. Best of all, the byproduct produced by burning the chemical is a liquid that adheres to most surfaces and is highly flammable when in contact with oxygen. ¡°So it burns, then it burns more.¡± Exactly. ¡°Shoot.¡± Ten points disappeared into the void that was Myalis and I had a new magazine to slot into Whisper. I fired the surprisingly heavy bolts towards the largest group of aliens, and was disappointed when they barely hurt the monsters rushing my way. I could hear a faint hissing from the cans, but that was it. The last bolt is a reactant. You might want to find some cover. I kept firing into the horde until my ammo counter was down to one, then I dipped behind the truck I was using as cover and fired the last bolt. That had been a mistake. A burst of fire washed over me. I felt my skin drying up and the air was blown out of my lungs. If it weren¡¯t for my hearing protection I was sure my eardrums would have burst. Damn near every window in the street exploded, raining glass down in sheets. Then the air returned with a great gasp and a second wave of heat, far hotter than the first but also not as heavy, rushed out behind me. I coughed a few times and stumbled away from the truck. When I turned around and looked over the street it was to find it covered in foot-tall flames. Bits of aliens burning up all over. A few of the Model Sixes at the back had survived the initial burst and were wiggling around on fire. The bit of rain coming down into the smoke barely did anything to stop the fires. I looked over to the others to make sure they were safe, and was happy to see that they¡¯d been more spooked than anything. Most of the glass had missed them, and while the stack of toilet paper they had been throwing out of the truck was on fire, they all seemed okay. I was the only idiot that had been standing in the blast radius when my little bomb lit up. Trying to speak had me coughing more than anything. ¡°Water,¡± I croaked. A NutriPack appeared in my hand and I slung Whisper over my shoulder so that I could poke it with a straw and drink. Once I was done and the pack was left behind, I coughed a few more times to clear my throat. ¡°That was dangerous,¡± I said. Fuel-air explosions usually are. Yes. I jogged over to the others. ¡°We need to get going,¡± I said. ¡°They might have heard that.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it, ma¡¯am,¡± Monroe said. His soldiers were helping the old lady into the back of the truck. They¡¯d kept some of the paper rolls inside as padding on the floors and walls. Probably a good idea. When the last of them were in, the soldiers rammed the door shut and rushed over to their cars. ¡°One ahead, one behind,¡± Monroe called out. ¡°Ma¡¯am, if you¡¯d come with me.¡± I nodded and moved with him over to Speedy¡¯s now-vacant car. Monroe jumped into the driver¡¯s seat and I hopped on the other side. A moment before I closed the door, Dumbass jumped in and tried to poke holes into my thigh with its little legs. ¡°Almost forgot you,¡± I said as I placed the drone on the floor. The sergeant floored it and we shot ahead of Speedy¡¯s truck just as she started to take off. ¡°Where¡¯s our next objective, ma¡¯am?¡± he asked. I raised a finger in a ¡®one moment¡¯ gesture. ¡°Myalis. Can you put the next shelter on his GPS?¡± Certainly. ¡°That¡¯s still in the orange zone,¡± Monroe said. ¡°That¡¯s a thousand people. Or maybe a thousand zombies. Either way, it¡¯s something we need to take care of.¡± He nodded slowly. ¡°We¡¯ll need to steal more trucks,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m sure there are a few people who can drive in that shelter. They ought to be thankful enough, I figure.¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Eight - Hot Stuff Chapter Fifty-Eight - Hot Stuff ¡°You want the best? There¡¯s nothing humanity can make that the Protector¡¯s can¡¯t make, but better. Cars? They¡¯ve got, but they fly. Books? They have electronic books which are written on the spot by an AI. You want renewable energy? Spaceflight? Secure electronics? It¡¯s humbling. And it¡¯s an opportunity. I¡¯m just happy that I¡¯ll get to see some real life catgirls before I die.¡± -- Melon Usk, 2028 *** Monroe¡¯s driving was nothing like Speedy¡¯s. For one thing, he didn¡¯t wait until the last second to move out of the way of every obstacle in our path, for another, he wasn¡¯t driving with the pedal stuck to the floor. ¡°Myalis, can you tell me anything about this next shelter?¡± I asked. Certainly. There are public records available for this one. It was created by the Blue Shade and Tennison Foundation for Canada. The main shelter was funded by a Samurai, though it doesn¡¯t seem to have any non-human components in its construction. It is technically a municipal shelter, though the foundation oversees supplying it. I nodded. ¡°Cool, what about its location and such?¡± It¡¯s built over two floors, one on ground level, the other beneath. There is a building above it, a tenement house also run by the foundation. The shelter has a standard capacity of one thousand, but can hold twice that many for a short duration. With standing room, it can hold four thousand average humans for no more than six hours. ¡°Six hours?¡± I asked. Monroe glanced my way. To him the conversation had to sound entirely disjointed. The shelter has limited supplies of breathable air and its recycling system can only do so much before the carbon dioxide levels in the shelter begin to reach dangerous levels. Some people would die from what is essentially asphyxiation. After a sufficient number have died, the system would most likely catch up. ¡°Well... that¡¯s pretty fucking nightmarish,¡± I said. Better than turning into a zombie though. The main entrance is the least fortified part of the shelter. It opens into a killbox with fixed gun emplacements designed to hold out against a decent number of antithesis of lower ranks. There are other passive systems in place, such as floor-to-ceiling bars that prevent large models from entering the shelter. I nodded. ¡°Got it.¡± That sounded simple enough. If the shelter was meant to be used properly, then it probably had an easy way to exit too. Access from the street to the shelter would probably be easy too. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± Monroe asked. ¡°How many of your guys would you need to keep the truck and the two cars safe while also bringing a few other vans closer?¡± ¡°More men than I have,¡± he said. I chewed on my lower lip. ¡°How are you in terms of weaponry?¡± ¡°We only have what we¡¯re equipped with and the roof guns. SOP when going with a Samurai is to leave all extra non-mission-critical equipment behind. Ammunition-wise... Squad, ammo check.¡± I waited as the soldiers in the back seat and presumably in the other car checked over their gear. ¡°We¡¯re down to about one extra magazine each, not counting what we¡¯ve got loaded.¡± I pinched my nose. ¡°I presume that¡¯s not a lot?¡± ¡°It¡¯s... not, no.¡± I nodded, then reached over and yoinked a magazine from its slot around his waist. I weighed the box by tossing it up and down. ¡°Myalis, how much does one of these cost?¡± About one point. They¡¯re standard rounds in a tin box. Nothing overly complex. They¡¯re sufficient for Models in the single digits. I tapped the side of the gun a few times. ¡°Yeah, that won¡¯t do,¡± I muttered. ¡°Monroe, what¡¯re you supposed to do when with a Samurai?¡± ¡°The procedures are pretty simple, ma¡¯am. Never lie. Never omit any crucial information. Do as the Samurai asks unless it puts you in immediate danger. Try to collect all discarded weaponry and equipment left by the Samurai. And, ah, the actual procedures are quite long, but that¡¯s the gist of it.¡± I rolled my eyes and placed the magazine in the centre console. ¡°Myalis, how many points do I have?¡± One thousand two hundred and ninety three. Do you want to buy something? ¡°These guys will need guns. Something, uh, Trench Maker-y in price. Rifles, I guess.¡± Kinetic, Energy, Direct Projection, Projectile, Esoteric? How would you like them to deliver death? I snorted. ¡°Got anything that lights stuff on fire?¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. There are plenty of fire-based weapons. Though they tend to be prone to friendly-fire accidents. Perhaps Class I Plasma Casting Weaponry. The catalogue would cost you one hundred points. ¡°Didn¡¯t handguns cost fifty?¡± Kinetic Handguns Class I is limited both in the kind of weaponry, and its form. The additional limitations drew the price down. ¡°Fair.¡± I turned over to Monroe. ¡°Do you like the idea of firing big balls of plasma at aliens?¡± ¡°Uh.¡± The soldiers in the back seat were nodding violently. ¡°Neat! I¡¯ll take it, Big M.¡± Please never call me that again. Class I Plasma Casting Weaponry unlocked! Points Reduced to... 1193! ¡°Okay, now guns! How do plasma guns even work? Do they need ammo or something?¡± You should probably have asked before purchasing the catalogue. As to how they work, the plasma is created in a chamber by firing an aerosolized chemical that is turned into plasma with an electrical arc. The ball of plasma is then pushed through a thin metallic membrane that shapes the charge. The case and the ball of plasma exit a barrel that is designed to spin the bolt. On impact, the case bursts apart and the plasma impacts the target. Its main advantages are the high temperatures around the area of impact and the explosive discharge. Class I Plasma weapons don¡¯t generally have good penetration. You also have access to plasma ¡®shot-guns¡¯ which fire a spinning loop of superheated plasma that dissipates within a dozen meters. The only ammunition expenditure is from the hyper compressed gas containers and rolls of metal fabric. Each gun can fire three hundred times before requiring a reload. ¡°That sounds awesome,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll take eight rifles. No, wait, I want one too. Nine.¡± Certainly. Perhaps waiting until you¡¯ve stopped would be best. ¡°Uh, yeah.¡± I turned to the guys in the back. ¡°You guys ever play with explosive plasma guns before?¡± I asked. They shook their heads. ¡°Then it¡¯s your lucky day.¡± The car shifted over to one side and slowed down before it turned into the opposite lane and came to a stop. The truck behind us squealed as it braked and the other car pulled out around it to park itself behind some cover provided by two normal cars that had smashed together. Monroe didn¡¯t have to tell me that we¡¯d arrived. I jumped out of the car and took in the area. We were in an area with two rows of tenement buildings. Porches sprouted out of the walls and grew to the top of the thirty-odd floors of the buildings. The area was so shit that the billboards were unanimated. There was even a ground-level parking garage for ground-bound cars across the street. Spotting the shelter was easy. There were big signs above the entrance extolling the virtues of the corps that had shelled out for it. They were missing most of their letters, but the missing paint left it legible enough. No aliens around. Not yet. We¡¯d only moved a few kilometers from the last shelter, and at the speed Model Threes moved... I guesstimated five minutes. ¡°Myalis, the guns,¡± I said. New Purchase: Mark I Shooting Star. Nine Units Points Reduced to... 1013 A neat three-by-three stack appeared by my feet. The boxes were shorter than I thought. Popping the topmost open revealed a boxy gun with a short stock, a square frame around its barrel filled with what looked like liquid cooling pipes, and a grip near the front. The top had a big square holographic scope on it. I picked it up and spun it around to point at a car some hundred meters away. There was a safety right next to the handle that I flicked off. The trigger was a bit stiff, but the moment I squeezed it the gun barked three times. A little counter next to the scope dipped down three times. A trio of explosions kicked up dust around the car I¡¯d aimed at. When it cleared, there was a fist-sized hole in its side. One out of three. That gun barely has any recoil and you have a full targeting suite. Your lack of aim is impressive. I turned to Monroe and kept my face stoic. ¡°Careful, they have no recoil, so don¡¯t compensate for it.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am!¡± he said. I can¡¯t decide whether to be disappointed or impressed. ¡°Always impressed Myalis,¡± I said as I finally allowed a grin to grace my features. ¡°Now let¡¯s go convince a thousand or so people that I have their best interests at heart.¡± Joy. *** Chapter Fifty-Nine - Looking Like a Big Damn Hero Chapter Fifty-Nine - Looking Like a Big Damn Hero ¡°There are Samurai who chose not to fight. It¡¯s crazy. They¡¯re the protectors of humanity. How else are you going to get your face on cereal boxes and your logo on panties unless you¡¯re out there kicking alien ass? But no. There are these assholes who have the powers of gods who just want to chill out in some Nation of Florida beach house, or who want to pretend to be normal people as if we¡¯re not depending on them!¡± --Internet commentator, July 2058 *** Unlike the last shelter, this one was obviously built to be accessed by as many people as possible in as short a time as possible. The entrance was behind a pair of large double doors that lead into a sort of concourse. It reminded me a bit of the entrance into a subway, only without any of the stairs and a lot more trash heaped against the corners. The door itself looked like something out of a movie. Huge, with rivet heads the size of my fist set in a square frame split down the middle. I guessed that they were meant to slide open. There was a panel off to one side. I figured that was how the door was meant to be opened, but I didn¡¯t want to try that yet. ¡°Think you can knock for me?¡± I asked. I¡¯m literally inside your head. Any knocking I do would be quite interesting for your cranium. I rolled my eyes. ¡°I mean, there¡¯s got to be a way to ping the people inside to tell them to open up, right?¡± I looked around, but other than some tipped over trash cans and waist-high barriers casting long shadows, there wasn¡¯t anything alien around. Even the Antithesis had better things to do than hang around in an empty area that glowed with flat neon light. I can. For the record, what you are doing might not go over well with all of the people in the shelter. ¡°Why the hell not?¡± I asked. Some humans have been noted to prefer more certain odds over those that they can¡¯t calculate, even if those odds might be worse. The chances of them surviving in the long term if they remain in the shelter are low at best. But coming out of there and travelling out of the area of the incursion has a higher initial risk of being fatal. Afterwards, once they¡¯ve reached safety, that risk drops to next to nothing. That... made an uncomfortable amount of sense. If it were me in there with the kittens, would I leave? The outside probably felt like some sort of nightmare to them. ¡°Got a solution to that?¡± The issue is mostly psychological. There are ways to address it. Overriding people''s fear is probably the easiest. Unfortunately, that would require a lot of... for a lack of better terms, presence. If you had an army at your back, they would listen. Or if you had overwhelming technology, like Deus Ex at your beck and call, then they would be assured that you can take care of them despite the increased danger. I scratched at the side of my nose. That... kind of meshed with some of my own experiences. Getting the kittens to do anything was impossible for some people. They could sense when some of the volunteers were pushovers. And yet they¡¯d snap to it if Lucy asked or if I threatened them with an ass kicking. There were some others who got the brats to behave. One of the more common human caretakers was an ex-nun of some sort. The woman had a tongue that would make a drill sergeant look like a pansy. I didn¡¯t have the time or the tongue to scare a thousand-odd people into compliance. I did have the ability to buy shit though. ¡°Myalis. Is there a disguise catalogue? One where you can buy stuff that¡¯s fake for less than it would cost to buy the read deal?¡± There is. I don¡¯t think it has ever been used before. Most Vanguard are content to wait to buy a real version of whatever they need. ¡°I don¡¯t have the points for that. I want... are there any guns and such I can mount onto Dumbass? Like, big scary ones?¡± Yes. From your current catalogues you have plasma and small kinetic arms. ¡°Right... I¡¯ll need two more Dumbasses. Can they have numbers on them or something?¡± That won¡¯t even cost you more points. New Purchase: Type One GG3R Stealth Drone. Two Units Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.Points Reduced to... 813 That stung a bit, but I now had three Dumbasses around me. Two of them had numbers stenciled onto the end of their legs. A large ¡®2¡¯ and ¡®3¡¯ under the word ¡®Dumbass¡¯ in cursive. Myalis was being cute again. ¡°Right, now that fake stuff.¡± This is certainly a plan. I rolled my eyes as a new notification came up. Class I Decoys Unlocked! Points Reduced to... 763 ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s cut to the chase. I need some big guns for my two new dumbasses. And I need a fuck-huge gun for myself. Something that¡¯ll tell people in no uncertain terms that they shouldn¡¯t fuck with me.¡± I can¡¯t decide whether I enjoy you being creative or if I dread it. No boxes, I assume. You wouldn¡¯t want proof of your duplicity laying around. I nodded. New Purchase: Decoy Model Five Rotating Antimatter Canon Points reduced to... 663 The price had me wincing. And then a gun appeared by my side. One that was nearly as long as I was tall and that hovered at waist height. It looked like it was made of melted steel, all covered and rain-drop-like except for large cutaways that revealed a set of five wrist-thick barrels inside. It had a pair of handles that looked just about right for holding it at hip-height. ¡°Nice,¡± I said. The actual gun would cost you nearly seventy thousand points. I choked. ¡°What? How?¡± It¡¯s a tier three antimatter weapon. I scrunched my nose, and looked at it, then at the much smaller, much less awesome plasma rifle I had. I would need to grind a bit, I guessed. ¡°Right, we need things for the Dumbasses.¡± Might I suggest giving the gun you currently have to one of your drones? The mounting for it is fairly cheap. ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I said. New Purchase: Decoy Drone-Mounted Rail Cannons. Two Units. Points Reduced to... 653 New Purchase: Stealth Drone Universal Gun Mount Points Reduced to... 603 Two large chunky... gun things appeared. Dumbasses one and two skittered under them, then stood up. They still only reached up to my knees, but now they had glowy barrel things mounted on their backs. The last unit was more like a saddle with a couple of arms on it. They looked like the drone¡¯s normal legs, but a bit more spindly. Dumbass, the first of its name, came up to my side and rubbed itself against my leg until I dipped down and placed the plasma rifle atop it. Little arms grabbed the gun and then clicked in place around it. Dumbass shifted around a bit, testing the new weight, then it circled around me a few times while pointing the gun every which way. ¡°Yep. Super intimidating,¡± I said. It can probably still aim better than you. ¡°Ouch,¡± I deadpanned before grabbing onto the antimatter cannon. The fake antimatter cannon. ¡°Why is this thing hovering?¡± I asked. The original, non-decoy model weighs in excess of fifty metric tones. Dimensional shunting is required to house parts of it. ¡°Uh huh,¡± I said. I wouldn¡¯t start to pretend that I knew how that worked. ¡°So, let¡¯s get those doors open and greet all the nice people stuck in there.¡± Do you want me to ¡®knock¡¯ first? I can send a message to their gear to expect your arrival. ¡°What will you send?¡± I asked suspiciously. She had fooled me twice already.

WARNING?

Shelter door opening on command of Vanguard ''Stray Cat.'' Prepare for an orderly exit and evacuation to the nearest safe zone.

Please remain calm. All non-essentials should be left behind. Do not open fire on the Samurai or you will face obvious and lethal consequences.

I read the box filling my vision, then nodded. ¡°That works.¡± Sending. Sent! And now opening! The doors shifted just an inch with a noise that sounded like one of those recordings of the last glaciers cracking. Even with just an inch open I caught a whiff of sweat and the unforgettable smell of too many bodies in one space. ¡°Time to put on a show,¡± I said. *** Chapter Sixty - A Unique Combat Doctrine Chapter Sixty - A Unique Combat Doctrine ¡°Samurai have a wide array of fighting styles and doctrines. Ranging from long-distance destruction of targets, to close-up melee fighting. The styles are as varied as the Samurai themselves, and their little AI partners seem to only encourage this diversity. It¡¯s exceptionally rare that two top-tier Samurai will have combat abilities that are even remotely similar. And that makes them a nightmare to fight. You can train people to take down one Samurai, but only that one. The next might be using gravity weapons instead of drone armies, or perhaps they¡¯ve focused on biological weaponry, or they fight in close-quarters while also using alien predictive software to avoid being shot. It¡¯s one of the many, many reasons why trying to use the army to subdue a rogue Samurai is a terrible idea.¡± --Major Huygens, in a brief before Operation Feudal, May 2027 *** The doors opened with a squeal of metal grinding against metal. I could only imagine what it sounded like to those caught within the shelter. To my surprise, I didn¡¯t find a sea of terrified people waiting for me, but instead a large empty room. It was a dozen meters long and wide, with cement walls all around that had shoulder-height windows cut into them. There were openings for people too, of course, and that¡¯s where I saw the first of the survivors. They looked... grumpy. The first few to come out from hiding were bigger men in rough-cloth uniforms. Some had old rifles, others large wrenches. They looked at me as if I was a two-bit hooker, then thought better of it on seeing the gun held casually by my side and the drones moving about around me. ¡°You Stray Cat?¡± One of them asked. ¡°Yup,¡± I said. ¡°We can¡¯t evacuate everyone here at once, not yet.¡± Their grumpiness moved up a notch. ¡°I¡¯ll need truck drivers and whomever has a gun and knows how to use it, as well as some folks with good arms.¡± ¡°What?¡± The man I chose to name grumpiest asked. ¡°We don¡¯t have enough transports for everyone here,¡± I said. ¡°So we¡¯re stealing some.¡± ¡°What¡¯ch¡¯a stealing?¡± ¡°Trucks,¡± I explained. ¡°We¡¯re stealing a whole fuckload of trucks. I need help emptying them out so that we can carry people out of here. We have maybe ten minutes before the worst of the waves hit this area.¡± One of them, slimmer and lankier, pointed back into the shelter. ¡°We could stay here.¡± ¡°No. You can¡¯t.¡± I saw him about to protest. It was surprising how kitten-like some adult expressions were. ¡°Because I said so.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a--¡± ¡°Because I said so, and because I have a fuck-huge cannon,¡± I added. That, surprisingly, worked. Some of them ran back to look for more volunteers while a group of them, ten or so in all, followed me back out onto the street. The moment we were out I shoved my floating gun to the side and let it hover ominously next to the entrance leading to the shelter. My Dumbasses ran ahead of me and were the first to meet with Monroe as he jogged over. ¡°Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°We have volunteers,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s... good,¡± he said. ¡°Did you do what I asked?¡± I asked. Monroe managed to look uncomfortable despite all of his armour making his body language hard to read. ¡°You didn¡¯t actually leave us with any orders, ma¡¯am. We passed around the guns and then set up the cars to protect the area. We also marked out trucks that we could potentially move over to here.¡± ¡°Uh,¡± I said. ¡°Well, good work. We¡¯re going to steal a fuckload more trucks. So if you could help organize that, it would be nice. Myalis can unlock them... or the Dumbasses can?¡± They can. ¡°Right, they can. So they¡¯ll be with you for that.¡± I snapped a finger at the nearest drone and all three of them turned to face me as if they were listening. ¡°You get that? You¡¯re going to help Monroe here crack the locks on some trucks.¡± The drone bobbed up and down and I decided to believe that that meant that they understood. ¡°What about you, ma¡¯am?¡± I licked my lips and looked back towards the shelter. A few more volunteers were coming out already. I had to believe that things would handle themselves without me there to threaten people the entire time. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. If everything went well, then people would come out of the shelters, first to set up the trucks, and then to fill them up. After that, a mad dash towards the hospital where we¡¯d hopefully meet up with a much bigger convoy. That was if things went well. If they didn¡¯t, then we¡¯d get swarmed by an unending tide of aliens while halfway into the loading process. People would panic as they were wont to do, and a lot of people would die. I could do something about that last one. ¡°I¡¯m going to be heading that way,¡± I said as I pointed towards the centre of the incursion. ¡°I¡¯ll set up a nice warm greeting for all the aliens coming this way. Buy you guys some time.¡± Monroe nodded. ¡°Understood. Thank you, ma¡¯am.¡± He saluted me, then moved right on towards the volunteers behind me and started rapid-firing questions and pointing them this way and that. I suddenly felt rather outclassed. Monroe was just a guy, but he had his shit together. ¡°Right well, I¡¯ll be... over there,¡± I said to no one before I started off towards what I hoped was the direction the monsters would come from. Do you actually have a plan? ¡°Yup,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m going over that way, and I¡¯m going to mine the shit out of the entire road.¡± Wonderful! And once the Antithesis set off every mine? ¡°Ah, then I¡¯m going to have to start shooting them a lot, I guess.¡± I see. Do try to remain inconspicuous. I grinned. ¡°That much I can do. Cloak on!¡± My cloak turned invisible around me, and I pulled it closed over my chest so that I became little more than a pair of boots and hands floating in the air with a very large crossbow. Screaming the command phrase to turn invisible is so counter-productive that I don¡¯t know where to begin chastising you for it. ¡°Oh, shush,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not like anyone¡¯s around to hear it.¡± I began to weave between cars at a decent jog. Not too fast that I was out of breath, but a good clip nonetheless. ¡°What kind of bombs should we be using for this? No more thermobarics by the way. I¡¯d like to keep what¡¯s left of my face untoasted.¡± You have some area-denial options, but I¡¯m afraid that if you use too many, the smarter Antithesis will merely circumvent the entire street. It might be best to use simpler, but still destructive. A combination of Hyper-Adhesive Foam and a Resonator might be best. ¡°How do you figure that?¡± I asked. The foam spreads out over a large area around its point of detonation, and tends to be ignored by most of the less intelligent models until they find themselves stuck in it. With enough time and effort they can remove themselves. The Resonator would then have time to work, while being nearly impossible to destroy by passing Antithesis unless they use the bodies of their comrades to reach it. Also, the property damage would be light compared to using high-explosives. And if one of them goes undetonated, you won¡¯t be responsible for killing any of the clean-up crews after the incursion is cleared. I sighed. ¡°That¡¯s fair, not as fun as big explosions, but okay.¡± Reaching the next intersection over, I paused as I took in the three paths the aliens could be coming from. It was a lot of road to cover, with all sorts of stalled vehicles and crap blocking lines of sight. ¡°I won¡¯t be able to cover all of this,¡± I realized. Then perhaps you don¡¯t need to. You have short-term use auto turret emplacements available for twenty points using your Auxiliary Weapon Utilities catalogue. ¡°At that price... I¡¯ll need to give it a gun myself and it can¡¯t reload?¡± It can reload a simple weapon. Assuming you purchase some ammunition for it. I sighed. ¡°Of course. Did I ever tell you that sometimes your solution to everything is predictable?¡± I could spice things up. ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± I said. Her idea of spicing things up probably involved me being humiliated. I surveyed the street again, this time with an eye for places where I could place small auto-turrets so that they¡¯d mess up the optimal number of alien baddies. I didn¡¯t know how much time I had left, exactly, but I figured I could make the aliens passing through the area regret ever being born. Or hatched, or whatever. Point was, I was going to mess someone¡¯s day up. And for once, it wasn¡¯t my own. Chapter Sixty-One - Trapsetter Chapter Sixty-One - Trapsetter ¡°Do Not Remain In Your Domicile During An Incursion! Immediately follow your local municipality¡¯s evacuation path and remove yourself from the area of immediate danger. If this path is unavailable, then use Qell¡¯s Nation-Wide 34G network* to download your local free* Qell Life Saver app at any time!¡± *All data transmitted across Qell networks is the property of Qell Telecom *The app contains in-app purchases. Qell is not responsible for any data collected by the app. *Fees apply. Prices are subject to change at any time. *The Qell 34G network is NOT being used for mind-control. --Part of Qell Telecom¡¯s ¡®Feel Good, Live Long¡¯ advertisement campaign of 2029 *** I stuck to the shadows, either those cast by the bridges overhead, or the shadows next to every vehicle. Any passing alien wouldn¡¯t be able to spot me under my coat, but my gun was still visible, as were my feet and hands. Worse, I was moving. If the antithesis had eyes like humans, then they¡¯d gravitate towards any motion. So I stuck to the shadows. Also, it made me feel cooler, which was a not-inconsiderable part of it. I stopped by a semi-trailer at a four-way intersection. I¡¯d ranged out about a block and a half from the shelter. Far enough that I could see the sniffing packs at the lead of the alien wave. For now, there were just Model Threes moving in large groups. There would be a whole lot more coming around. ¡°Myalis, door,¡± I said as I tapped the side of the truck I was using as cover. Something in the door clunked and I reached up and pulled it open to slip in. The truck had mirrored glass on its front, making it hard to see within. That suited me just fine. ¡°Turret, Sparrow and ammo,¡± I whispered. Two boxes and a small pile of magazines appeared on the passenger seat. I popped the biggest open and removed a turret drone from within. They were book-sized things, with three thin legs that had little grippy holsters on them, a little body with a lens at the front, and a trio of arms above that. I set it on the dash and watched as its back legs gripped onto the steering wheel and the third unfolded a drillbit and dug into the plastic next to the window to hold itself in place. I tugged the next box open and pressed the Sparrow within onto the arms above. The gun twisted this way and that, then its safety clicked off all on its own and I knew it was ready. The last step was clicking the three spare magazines onto the turret¡¯s legs so that it could reload. ¡°That¡¯s one more down,¡± I said as I looked out the front. The aliens were getting closer, and from two directions. The street to my right was pretty much clear of them for now. The one behind me was a maze of explosive traps and hidden turret emplacements. ¡°Grenades.¡± Myalis gave me a pair of them. The first, a resonator, dropped onto the floor of the truck, its laser pointing towards the ceiling. If... when something broke in to get at the turret it would give them a nice surprise. I dropped out of the vehicle and, after getting to my knees, rolled under it. Two more grenades were placed there. One of those adhesive canister bombs and a second resonator for good measure. And then I rolled out and was on my way. The shelter was more or less in the middle of its street, and I had blocked the northernmost route towards it with turrets and proximity-detonated bombs. That left one other route to the shelter from the opposite side. That, and a bunch of alleyways linking that road to the one behind it. I turned right at the next corner and started making my way down while keeping an eye open to the world ahead. Pausing at an old minivan, I used its front grill as a shelf for another glue-and-goo combo of bombs before running on. My points were dropping by the dozen every time I stopped, but I figured what I lost would be returned tenfold as the traps I set went off. If each trap killed two aliens I¡¯d be in the black in no time. The turrets needed to kill a dozen or so, but I figured it was doable. I was about to duck under another truck when I heard something out ahead of me. A pair of Model Threes were sticking their heads out from an alleyway. They sniffed around, then jumped out and onto the road proper. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. The alley was to the north, where most of the aliens would be coming from. Did that mean that they¡¯d found a shortcut of sorts? One that would circumvent the better part of my traps? I glared at the aliens, then ducked behind a large mailbox covered in years worth of graffitti. A moment later, two aliens became four and I felt myself scowling. I¡¯d need to plug that leak and get them moving towards my trap. I didn¡¯t doubt that the swarm would cover every street, but I had set things up expecting them to come from more or less one direction. Whisper clunked as its bipod legs found purchase atop the mailbox. I leaned in to aim, but didn¡¯t really need to. As soon as my finger was over the trigger an option opened up in my new eye and my vision split as if I¡¯d grown a third eye, one that was right above the barrel of my crossbow. It was a little confusing, but the arcing red line in my vision was pretty clear. I lined it up with the first of the dog-like aliens and pulled the trigger. Before the hiss of the bow launching a bolt even registered I aimed at the one farthest back from the pack. The Model Threes looked at the comrades that had gained a pair of bristly additions to their hides. Neither of them were dead. And then they burst apart with twin pops that were no louder than someone flinging a can of soda into the path of a moving hovercar. A few more shots added to the beautifully gorey mess across the street. ¡°Myalis, I need more ammo,¡± I said. I crossed while reloading Whisper. If I could block the path, then maybe the Antithesis would have to pass by some other route. On the other hand, that would maybe just make them rush by some other way. The plan, then, was simple. I¡¯d just kill off as many aliens as I could and once the area was more or less clear, I¡¯d add a few dozen surprises for any of the brutes trying to pass by. It would at least slow them down. My goal wasn¡¯t to kill every last alien, it was to stall until Monroe got everyone packed up and ready to go. The alley had a pair of Model Threes and a single Model Four in it. They looked like they¡¯d been going through the trash when I¡¯d popped their buddies and were now coming closer to investigate. Four more shots took care of them... and also a dumpster about five meters behind them. Myalis didn¡¯t comment, but I could swear I felt her disapproval as I sidestepped the giblets left of the aliens and crossed the alley. The next street over was a mess. Not only had a bunch of Model Threes and Fours already made it halfway down, some of them were working away at the doors of every building on the street. Model Sixs were thumping their way down, and a few little flocks of Model Ones were darting here and there, keeping an eye on the sky. Gunshots popped in the distance, sometimes accompanied by a flash through an apartment¡¯s windows. I winced. There had to be hundreds of people that had decided to hide away in their rooms and who would soon be visited by some hungry aliens. Maybe a few could defend themselves for a bit, but as the density of aliens grew, I doubted they could keep up. Nothing I could do, at least, not without abandoning the thousand-odd people behind me. At least I could win them some time. I crouched by the edge of the alley, rain splattering down across my hood and leaving distortions in the invisible cloth as they passed. Taking in the surroundings didn¡¯t leave me with as many options as I would have wanted. The road here was a bit wider, with a crossing in the middle for pedestrians and, just under a hundred meters away, was another intersection, this one with a large cement building taking up the corner. The entrance into the subways. That¡¯s where the aliens were coming from in twos and threes, the worm-looking Model Eights slithering up with difficulty. ¡°Fuck,¡± I muttered. ¡°I forgot all about the undercity.¡± Incursions tend to bury themselves, given the opportunity. A transit system is a ready-made way for them to travel across an entire city until it¡¯s cleared. ¡°I¡¯m going to need something that can really fuck that entrance up,¡± I said. Before Myalis could reply, I darted ahead and ducked under the underside of a truck¡¯s trailer. I was just about to start planning my next few moves when, with a throaty ¡®whoosh¡¯ the street caught fire. *** Chapter Sixty-Two - Honour and Flames Chapter Sixty-Two - Honour and Flames ¡°Samurai meet in the field all the time. It¡¯s a common enough occurrence. Sometimes it¡¯s not the friendliest of events. When high-yield everything is flying about, aliens are attacking, and the area is filled with dead and dying civilians, the tensions can run fairly high. Still, there is a sort of code of honour among Samurai, and even those that belong to opposing factions will generally put the lives of civilians before any grudges. If their explosive attacks happen to accidentally overlap with the area a rival is in, well, that¡¯s just a bit of friendly ribbing.¡± --Cynthia Eastwood, head psychologist, New Burkely U. 2051 *** Being on fire was, in a word, unfun. To be completely fair, I hadn¡¯t actually lit up. The wave of flames wasn¡¯t directed at me. I just got caught in the AOE. I wanted to scream, but the air around me was boiling and a tiny gasp was enough for me to clamp down and roll up into a ball while flames licked at my jacket. A very uncomfortable few seconds later, the flames abated and I opened my eyes only to have my organic eye spiked with pain. There was a lot of nasty smoke in the air. My nifty robotic eye was just fine. ¡°Air.¡± I croaked. A box appeared before me. I fumbled it open, saw the facemask within, and slapped it on without a second thought. It didn¡¯t have any straps, which didn¡¯t seem to matter as its rubber lining adjusted itself to my face and stuck on fast. Taking in a deep gasp was like stepping out of a room filled with smokers for the first time in hours. It was heaven. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. I can¡¯t serve you if your lungs fail. Though you should consider replacing them with something more efficient. I suspect the fire was caused by a person, not an Antithesis. Some fuck-o had tried to light me up? Growling, I rolled out from under the truck, spung Whisper off my shoulder and brought it around to aim at the first thing that moved. I found myself staring down the scope of my crossbow at a nun. A nun with a backpack and two arms pointing my way. Arms with little nozzles under them. We stared at each other for a very uncomfortable few seconds as I twisted so that I was kneeling. The ground was hot to the touch and kind of painful on my legs, but my shoes had good insulation. I swore to myself that if she¡¯d wrecked my two hundred point shoes I was going to put a very big hole in her. Nun or otherwise. Hold. That¡¯s a Vanguard. We both paused. The nun lowered her hands and I, reluctantly, lowered Whisper. ¡°What the fuck?¡± I asked though my new mask The nun was wearing a full-face mask under her habit. It looked like a featureless woman¡¯s visage, like one of those disappointed statues of Mary. ¡°Forgive me,¡± she said. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were there.¡± I growled, the noise made deeper by the mask. My organic eye was still acting up. Worse, there was nothing I could do about it while the ground around us still smoked and smouldered. ¡°Yeah well, that¡¯s no excuse for--¡± I cut off as noise came from off to the side. Turning, I took in the subway¡¯s entrance which had half a dozen extra-crispy aliens flopped around it. Obviously, those within the tunnels didn¡¯t get the memo. With a now-practiced gesture, I slid Whisper over my back, pulled three ordinary grenades from my pockets, the last of those I¡¯d acquired from the PMC armoury. Three pins clinked onto the floor around me. I flung them underhand into the tunnel. ¡°That won¡¯t keep them,¡± the nun said. ¡°Are all nun-type people such weirdos?¡± I asked. ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not pardoned,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, glue-and-goo.¡± The adhesive grenade burst apart over the entrance just as the first Model Three barged out. It took two steps before flopping forwards as its momentum and unmoving feet tag-teamed each other and smashed its face into the sticky ground. The Resonator stuck fast to the white-ish foam rising on the ground and started to wail. The nun flinched back and I imagined that she was wincing under that mask of hers. ¡°That¡¯s loud,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe if you hadn¡¯t crisped me I¡¯d feel sorry,¡± I said. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. She harrumphed and shifted her white-on-black dress. It allowed me a better view of her weapons, a pair of what were obviously flamethrowers with handles that had metal hand-protectors over them. It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure that they were connected to her backpack somehow. Her dress had a strange sheen to it, and I guessed that it was probably nice and cool under there, because of course the nun only lit others on fire. ¡°What were you doing here?¡± I asked. ¡°Bringing retribution upon the aliens,¡± she said. Her voice sounded... off. Like someone reciting something instead of speaking normally. ¡°Uh-huh. You plan on lighting everything on fire?¡± That reminded me. If she was going around burninating things, then why hadn¡¯t I seen signs of it? A look down the road didn¡¯t reveal anything burning, and the aliens hadn¡¯t looked too excited. There was a heavy column of smoke rising above the skyline from one street over. Had she snuck through an alleyway? ¡°I¡¯m... still new,¡± the nun admitted. She looked away, still towards the aliens stuck by the entrance, but away from me. Did she think I wasn¡¯t new too? That was... kind of hilarious. ¡°First incursion?¡± I asked. ¡°Second.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Well, I¡¯m Cat. Folks call me Stray Cat, I guess. I¡¯m pretty new too.¡± I was glad the mask made my voice sound deeper, there was no way she wouldn¡¯t notice the hilarity in my tone otherwise. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s... I am sorry about lighting you on fire, I didn¡¯t see you.¡± I sighed. Really, I couldn¡¯t be too mad at her. Now that I wasn¡¯t actively on fire and I wasn¡¯t smoking anymore, I was feeling a whole lot more generous. Also, my propensity for flinging bombs all over meant that I might be in her Mark I Nun shoes one day. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°Got a name?¡± ¡°A Samurai name?¡± the nun asked. ¡°I wasn¡¯t given one, not yet.¡± ¡°What? Is there a reason you can¡¯t give yourself one?¡± I asked. ¡°Tradition?¡± she asked more than said. It has become something of a tradition for Vanguard to name each other, with some competing to be the first to name another. Though there are no rules, and any Vanguard is free to disregard a name that is given to them. Usually the names are given in good faith. Like the name I¡¯d gotten from Longbow? That explained why he was so excited about it.I watched the nun while Myalis info-dumped. She looked to the side, her head cocked as if listening to something. Her own AI, I guessed. ¡°Right, how do you like Sister Hellfire?¡± I asked. She turned back to me. ¡°How would you like me to finish cooking you?¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound very Christ-like,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m part of a denomination that worships Samurai,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re pretty okay with violence.¡± I snorted. ¡°Does that mean you worship yourself? That¡¯s either really weird, or really kinky.¡± She didn¡¯t seem to appreciate that, so I raised my hands in surrender. ¡°How about, uh, something a bit more serious. What¡¯s the name of that one city that got burnt up in the Bible?¡± ¡°Gomorrah?¡± she asked. ¡°There. That sounds good enough.¡± ¡°You want me to name myself after a city of sinners?¡± she asked incredulously. I shrugged. ¡°It sounds badass.¡± She paused. ¡°It kind of does, doesn¡¯t it?¡± The Resonator shut off with a screech and I saw the newly christened Gomorrah relax her shoulders at the lack of ear-piercing noise. There was still a ring, but it sounded distant. ¡°Oh, shit,¡± I said. ¡°My traps have gone off.¡± She turned back to me. ¡°Traps?¡± ¡°To protect a group of civilians I was helping evacuate. Uh, want to help? I¡¯m not entirely sure how credit is divided, but there¡¯s like a thousand civilians and eight soldiers to guard them a block and a bit over. I set traps all over.¡± ¡°I... yes, I¡¯ll come.¡± I grinned. ¡°Cool. Just try not to fry the civilians.¡± I had the impression she was glaring. ¡°I¡¯ll be careful with them,¡± she said. The emphasis there suggested that she¡¯d be less careful with me. ¡°Myalis, I need something to cave that entrance in.¡± A few Hyper Compression bombs should do it. I don¡¯t place much stock in the strength of human-made structures. ¡°Your faith in humanity is astounding,¡± I deadpanned. Two flung bombs later and I was walking away from the area, an irate fire nun at my back. Chapter Sixty-Three - People are Stupid Chapter Sixty-Three - People are Stupid ¡°With the advent of corporate police forces and national and international PMCs, there has been a sharp rise in the number of people willing and able to fight crime for the right amount of money. Unsurprisingly, this had little to no impact on the organized parts of the criminal underworld. Most cities, especially the megacities, have organizations whose entire modus operandi revolve around specific crimes. Thieves, cybercriminals and spies make up part of the ¡®soft¡¯ criminal world, usually working on smaller jobs or contracting themselves over to corporations in order to ruin an adversary''s quarterly profits. Thugs of all sorts have made a niche for themselves in the poorer districts where they usually begin as well-meaning groups defending their home. Dealers plague every strata of society. From those selling common meth to the homeless, to those smuggling in luxurious alien-made drugs for the CEOs of multinationals. Crime, it seems, is a constant among humanity. Especially in a world where the meaning of law is so vague and weak.¡± --Excerpt from ¡®The Lawless¡¯ by an anonymous author. 2054 *** I was expecting a few things when I returned to the shelter. I was hoping for certain things too. Arriving to find all the civilians waiting calmly inside a row of trucks ready to go, with maybe a few volunteers guarding the entire lot would have been nice. Instead I arrived to find a half-circle of scared people all staring at a spectacle that had shivers crawling down my spine. There were some men standing around, all of them armed with guns that I found all too familiar. One of them, the biggest in the entire lot, was standing before the crowd. On one side, Monroe was on his knees, hands held behind his back by some dipshit. ¡°The Samurai¡¯s gone! If you want to become pawns of these corporate fucks, then that¡¯s on you. But me and mine, we¡¯re making a stand. We¡¯re going to take those aliens on!¡± I stared, dumbfounded, as some of them actually cheered him on. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose this was part of any plan?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°No, no it wasn¡¯t. I told them to get ready to evacuate, not this shit.¡± I stomped out across the street, vaguely aware that Gomorrah was sticking close behind me. The big dipshit paused mid-way through his speech as the crowd¡¯s attention turned away from him and moved towards me. ¡°Dumbass! Come here,¡± I shouted. The man looked around. ¡°You want to talk, Samurai?¡± he demanded. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know that wh--¡± ¡°You, shut the fuck up,¡± I said. Dumbass Two appeared out of the shadows of one of the nearby trucks, its holographic camo winking out as it moved. ¡°Dumbass, you see what happened?¡± I asked. Reviewing the footage now. It seems as if a group of men, most of whom have criminal records and affiliations to a local gang, decided to take over the evacuation operation. Sargent Monroe protested. A small fight broke out and his squad was detained. I nodded, then my gaze turned towards Speedy. The woman¡¯s helmet was off, and her face was a mess of blood and missing teeth. Private Samantha ¡®Speedy¡¯ tried to stand up to the leader of this group. He decided to make an example of her. ¡°If you think we¡¯ll stand aside just because you¡¯re some hot shot--¡± the big dipshit continued. His grip on his plasma rifle... my plasma rifle, tightened. I slid Whisper over my shoulder. ¡°I can see why you did what you did,¡± I said. My voice sounded surprisingly cold. I think it gave the man pause. Reaching into my coat, I pulled out my Trench Maker and brought the gun up and around to point at him. ¡°If you shoot me, my boys will--¡± ¡°You did it because you¡¯re a fucking idiot,¡± I said. And then I shot him. He stumbled back, the rifle clattering to the ground. The screaming started right after as he clutched onto the burning stump of his forearm, waving it around to try and put out the flames crawling up his pleather jacket. That was a surprisingly nice shot. ¡°I was aiming for his head,¡± I muttered. Someone screamed and started running at me with a machete of all things. He made it three steps before Gomorrah aimed an arm at him and turned him into a screaming ball of flailing fire. The entire crowd shrank back as the man stopped, dropped and died in the middle of the street. ¡°No chill, huh?¡± I asked Gomorrah. ¡°Was that a pun?¡± the nun asked. Her emotionless mask somehow managed to convey disgust at the idea. ¡°Regardless. We don¡¯t lose points for killing people trying to harm us.¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Kill her!¡± the dipshit in charge said. Shutting down weaponry. Only two of the thugs raised their pilfered plasma rifles and pulled the triggers. My heart almost skipped out of my chest, but they did a lot of nothing. The guns on my back slid out of my jacket and settled over my shoulders in one smooth motion before planting a couple of holes in the idiot¡¯s legs. ¡°The rest of you planning to live through the rest of the day?¡± I asked. ¡°Or do you plan on becoming alien chow?¡± ¡°Leaving the bodies to be eaten is irresponsible,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°We can incinerate them, lest they feed our nemesis.¡± ¡°You, you can¡¯t,¡± Dipshit said. He was actually crying. I kinda felt a little bad, but he was a dipshit. He¡¯d stalled the entire group up. Some trucks were stationed nearby, but not nearly enough of them, and the crowd was notably outside of them. ¡°Monroe, you okay?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± Monroe said with the kind of strain in his voice that suggested that he wasn¡¯t. I sighed. ¡°You other idiots, drop your weapons or I¡¯ll drop you.¡± ¡°If we go with you we¡¯ll be arrested,¡± one of them said. ¡°We have warrants out for us.¡± I blinked. ¡°Is that why you staged a coup? You could have just run off.¡± I cut him off with a gesture. ¡°Look, you¡¯ve all just volunteered to be the, uh, backline people. There¡¯s a word for that, right?¡± ¡°Rear guard?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Good enough,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°It¡¯s rear guard or death. Your choice. And make it quick.¡± I suspect they were the sort of thugs used to jumping when told to, because they did make it quick. I noticed a few of them slipping behind the crowd, but as long as they didn¡¯t cause more trouble I had bigger problems to deal with. ¡°Gomorrah, can you organize people?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve... done similar before,¡± she said. ¡°Cool. I¡¯m going to get these guys back on their feet. We need to move, and soon.¡± I moved over first to Monroe, who looked like he¡¯d been kicked in the chest a few times, then over to Speedy. I winced. She¡¯d been beaten black and blue, her teeth kicked in and one of her eyes was squeezed shut around a swelling mess of purplish skin. ¡°Damn Speedy,¡± I said. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s you,¡± she said. ¡°I can still drive.¡± I snorted. ¡°Sure. Myalis? Can I afford some meds?¡± Certainly. Your points have been climbing steadily for the last few minutes. The traps you¡¯ve set seem to be effective enough. Dumbass the First skittered over. It still held onto one of my plasma rifles, making it look rather silly as it wobbled over. ¡°Hey there,¡± I said. ¡°Can you run a scan on her?¡± I asked. The drone bobbed and soon Myalis was giving me some suggestions that I more or less blindly accepted. ¡°You¡¯ll be right as rain,¡± I told her as I waved Monroe over. ¡°Can you get any of your guys who are hurt here? And any civilians that need medical attention too, while you¡¯re at it?¡± ¡°Do you mind if I delegate that, ma¡¯am?¡± he asked with a wheeze. ¡°Shit. Yeah, sure. Let Dumbass here check you out real quick.¡± As it turned out, Monroe had a fucked up rib. His armour had taken the worst of the blows, but that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t winded. ¡°What will you do about him?¡± Monroe asked as he gestured to the idiot that started it all. I looked over at the guy who was on the ground, kneeling with his stump cradled against his chest. I sighed. ¡°Cuff him and toss him in the back of a truck? I¡¯m sure someone will want him, stump and all.¡± ¡°Not nice to make fun of stumpy people,¡± Speedy said from her spot below us. She was looking a bit better already. Probably feeling better too if she had time to be snarky. ¡°I¡¯m a stumpy person too,¡± I said with a wiggle of my super arm. ¡°Does this kind of crap happen often?¡± ¡°Often enough,¡± Monroe said. ¡°The aliens are only the most dangerous thing on the field. Not the only things that can kill you.¡± I felt my good mood draining as that sank in. How many more people would I be trampling over without so much as a second thought before that number grew too big? Could I have handled things differently? Made it less likely that something like this would happen again? A not-so-distant thump had me looking down the road. It was followed by a clatter of gunfire and a faint wailing. Something had set off one of my traps, one that was a lot closer than the others. ¡°Monroe, get everyone¡¯s shit together. You have two minutes.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Speedy, we¡¯ll see if your claims that you can still drive hold up.¡± ¡°You betcha.¡± *** Chapter Sixty-Four - Tougher Means More Boom Chapter Sixty-Four - Tougher Means More Boom ¡°The international standard shipping container is 12.2 meters long, and 2.43 meters wide. That¡¯s enough room to carry over a hundred people with relative comfort, assuming that they don¡¯t need too much breathing room. In a situation where that number isn¡¯t sufficient, you can begin to stack people one atop the other. With less room between each, you can push that number up to two hundred civilians per container. More than that, and you will need to add air circulation systems to the containers or risk having the people within suffer from oxygen deprivation and carbon monoxide poisoning before arriving at their final destination. This math, of human lives and resources, is the math of tyrants, despots, and the desperate.¡± --Excerpt from ¡®A Survivor¡¯s Tale¡¯ 2024 *** The first trucks were packed so full that the people within would probably be bumping shoulders the entire time they moved. Those had left some minutes ago. The trucks being stuffed full of people now had so many being pushed into them that it was a miracle no one had been trampled yet. And still I wanted them to pack in more. ¡°Faster Monroe!¡± I called out. As we took over more trucks, it cleared some of the road up. Sure, there were some that we just couldn¡¯t use on account of them being driverless vehicles, and the rather ordinary old cars dotting the road were left unused as well. That just meant that there were large gaps with no one in them, or no one except for a whole lot of antithesis. The first wave to come around the far end of the street looked like crap. They had wounds already and looked like they¡¯d been rolled around in dirt before reaching us. The sight of them had set the crowd to screaming and panicking, and it was all Monroe and his boys could do to stop them from turning into little more than an unruly mob. That had been five minutes back. The first wave was wiped with a few hisses from Whisper and one gout of flames from Gomorrah. The crowd had resettled, another two trucks were filled and drove off. Then Monroe announced that the first three had arrived at the hospital, our relay point. They were met there by an entire platoon of soldiers with tanks and enough weaponry to stop a small incursion in its tracks. That was the first wave, back when the trucks only had a hundred or so people in them. Now we were trying to cram in five hundred people into three trucks, one of which was a half-trailer, and things weren¡¯t fitting in right. I was leaning over the top of a car, Whisper¡¯s little tripod legs digging into its roof to keep it stable. I¡¯d long given up just using concussion-tipped bolts and had switched to garrot grenades that at least turned a small section of the street into a blender after impact. It was doing a number on the ever growing waves of aliens coming at us. Gomorrah was doing her bit too, spraying entire sections of the road with liquid fire that washed up walls and over cars and turned any passing aliens into so much burning meat. The air stank of melting plastic and rubber and plants. The land-bound bastards were a problem, but a relatively small one. We had to empty trucks to make room, which gave us plenty of materials to build a barricade with. The problem was the fliers. My Hydra mounted guns perked up and spat out twin lines of death into the air, intercepting a flock of Model Ones that came hurtling past our barricade. The people behind me screamed as their little bodies smacked into the ground with dull thumps. ¡°Ma¡¯am!¡± I looked over my shoulder to see Monroe rushing over to me. He ducked down as soon as he was close, using the car as cover. ¡°What?¡± I asked. The time for pleasantries was well past. ¡°Ma¡¯am, truck six ran into some antithesis on the way back,¡± he said. My blood ran cold. ¡°Did they make it?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± he said. ¡°They were close to the rendez-vous point, they sped over and the soldiers there took care of the xenos. But we can¡¯t send trucks eight and nine now, they¡¯ll get hit on-route.¡± I fired ahead without looking until Whisper clicked empty. The ground ahead was a target rich environment, even unaimed shots were bound to hit something. I took a knee and started to reload. ¡°We¡¯ll need to send the next trucks with one of your cars as escort,¡± I said. ¡°Send them in a group. You have my turrets?¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am, we installed them at the end of the street, like you asked.¡± A measure to keep us more or less safe from any aliens that tried to circle around. That, and the turrets were pretty decent shots against aerial targets. ¡°Myalis, turrets, and guns and ammo and all,¡± I said. ¡°Monroe, how many trucks are left?¡± ¡°We have six here. Two are packed already. About six hundred civilians left to embark,¡± he said. I nodded. ¡°Myalis, six times.¡± My AI was smart enough to get what I meant and six boxes with turrets appeared. ¡°Place those atop the trucks. They¡¯ll keep them safe,¡± I said. ¡°Thank you ma¡¯am. We¡¯ll send the next batch ahead in two minutes. It¡¯ll be another five until we¡¯re done,¡± he said. I was thankful for my ear protection because there was no way I would have been able to hear him otherwise, not with the number of turrets firing ahead of us. ¡°Go!¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll act as rear guard.¡± Monroe paused. He wasn¡¯t an idiot, he knew what that meant. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± He took one of the boxes for himself, then gestured over a couple of civilians that had proven trustworthy enough to help. I slapped another magazine into Whisper and stood back up to make more points. That¡¯s when Gomorrah reached me. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she asked. I took one look at the nun, noting how the air around her was a hazy mess of hot air that I could feel from where I stood. ¡°Five minutes until the last of them are packed,¡± I repeated. ¡°They¡¯re getting hit enroute, so we¡¯re sending them in groups with turrets and soldiers now. I¡¯m staying behind to cover them for a bit.¡± Gomorrah nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll stay as well,¡± she said. I felt myself grinning. ¡°Can¡¯t miss out on this many points?¡± I asked. ¡°Not on your life, Stray Cat,¡± she said. ¡°We can run back to that hospital of yours while making it cost the aliens for every step.¡± ¡°I like it,¡± I said. I was running on a whole lot of adrenaline and maybe a bit of panic, but there was also a sort of gleeful joy in seeing so many aliens being torn apart, in knowing that what I was doing right then and there was saving people in a very real sense. It was like donating a dollar to charity, but better. I was about to fire another quip out at Gomorrah when I noticed that she was staring out past our barricade. ¡°What in the name of the Father is that?¡± she muttered. I looked out ahead and felt my joy pop like an overfull balloon. There was an alien coming around the corner, a model I hadn¡¯t seen yet. That wasn¡¯t terribly unlikely. So far we had been dealing with the same sort of bastards, Model Threes and Ones and Sixes, with the occasional Model Four showing up in all of their tentacular glory. This thing was different. It was four legged, and built like a bear if bears were in the habit of trampling cars. Its body was the same black-green as most Antithesis, but this thing was covered in a layer of fine pale-green quills that looked almost wet to the touch. That¡¯s a Model Five. It¡¯s a model dedicated to biological warfare. It¡¯s quills are dangerous, even to a Samurai. Do not let it approach you. If you see Model Ones around it, be very careful. I raised Whisper, aimed at the middle of the monster, and fired. Something so big shouldn¡¯t have been able to move so damned quickly. One moment it was turning around the corner, the next it was rushing at us at an angle that had my first shot missing it entirely. ¡°Fuck,¡± I said. ¡°Language,¡± Gomorrah muttered. The Model Five¡¯s mouth opened, revealing what could only be the organic version of a firehose for a tongue. Faint pinkish gas started to waft out of it. The wind was at our backs, for now, but I didn¡¯t want to find out what would happen if and when that reached us. That¡¯s about when it stepped into the thirty-meter range of Gomorrah¡¯s flamethrowers and she lit it up. Just to be damned sure, I fired off a trio of garrot grenade-tipped bolts into the monster''s chest and watched as they tore it apart in a spray of flaming meaty giblets. ¡°It might be tougher than average,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°But we¡¯re still two Samurai.¡± Chapter Sixty-Five - A Change in Tactics Chapter Sixty-Five - A Change in Tactics ¡°There are different sorts of incursions, but for the most part, the opening salvo of Antithesis forces will concentrate on overwhelming numbers. It can take up to a day before the hive has scouted enough of its environs to decide how it will specialize. In those opening hours, in that first half day, a small incursion can go from a few thousand bodies to a quarter of a million single-digit Models. The few instances of footage taken from within a hive show Antithesis ¡®fruit¡¯ going from the size of a seed to its flower stage, and then turning into a fully grown Model in the space of three hours. Each fruiting vine can hold anywhere from a hundred to three thousand flowers, each one a fruit which will grow into a man-killing alien in an afternoon. The more time passes, the more biomass the hive collects, the greater the number of models it produces.¡± --Excerpt from ¡®The Most Dangerous Weed,¡¯ 2025 *** I slapped the side of the truck¡¯s cabin. ¡°Go!¡± I shouted. The truck revved, a high pitched whine escaping from its electric engine a moment before its rearmost wheels spun with a crunch of gravel on asphalt and the whole thing started forwards. I ignored the tons of steel moving right past me and brought Whisper up to take a few shots at the bastards sticking their heads over our road block. ¡°I¡¯m lighting up the wall!¡± Gomorrah called back a moment before the temporary blockade we¡¯d built up across the street turned into a flaming barrier, the few aliens scrambling up the side flopping back down on the wrong end of toasty. A glance over my shoulder showed the last truck taking the corner at a speed that would have earned it a ticket in normal circumstances. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± I said. No more civilians. Nearly two thousand--or maybe a bit over that since I hadn¡¯t really been counting--all removed from an area that was about to get swamped by enough aliens to drown in. Gomorrah shifted a bit. She¡¯d gained a pair of shoulder mounted flame throwers, similar to my own shoulder mounted guns, and her backpack had changed a bit, getting smaller and more compact. I wasn¡¯t sure when she¡¯d picked up the new gear, but I couldn¡¯t throw rocks from my glass house. I was planning on finding a nice calm spot soon to equip some new toys of my own. ¡°How are we evacuating?¡± Gommorah asked. ¡°Uh,¡± I said. I looked back down the road the trucks had gone down, then towards the other side where the antithesis tide had been stalled if only for a little bit. The aliens seemed to take that as an excuse to start breaking into every building along the sides of the roads. ¡°There are a few more shelters to check out, but they¡¯re on the safer side of the hospital we¡¯re using as a rendez-vous point,¡± I said. ¡°Well then, perhaps we should reach the hospital first. If there are more soldiers there then perhaps we could use them as aids to evacuate the other shelters.¡± I nodded along. ¡°That makes sense.¡± We both just stood there for a bit. ¡°So?¡± Gommorah asked at last. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°How are we getting there?¡± I reached into my hood and scratched at the nape of my neck. ¡°I don¡¯t know. We could walk?¡± The nun stared at me, the unmoving face of her mask not hiding the fact that couldn¡¯t pick an emotion. ¡°You don¡¯t know? You mean to tell me that we just sent the last transport away with no way to get out ourselves?¡± ¡°That¡¯s simplifying it a bit,¡± I said. ¡°Please do explain then,¡± she said. That stereotype about nuns being on the acerbic side was proving itself true. ¡°Look, we can probably jack a car and drive out of here,¡± I said. ¡°I mean... you know how to drive, right?¡± ¡°You... No. No I don¡¯t!¡± ¡°Ah,¡± I said. ¡°We can walk then? Maybe a bit of jogging. It¡¯s cardio. Good for your health.¡± Gomorrah¡¯s fists tightened by her sides before she spun towards the far end of the street and started stomping off. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit,¡± I said. ¡°One step at a time and all that. Isn¡¯t that what Jesus said?¡± ¡°He never said that!¡± she shouted back. I snorted back a laugh and jogged to catch up with her. ¡°Come on, it¡¯s not that bad. The boring logistics parts will all be over by the time we get there. Plus we can kill a few more aliens on the way over. More points!¡± ¡°I won¡¯t argue that having more points in the bank would be a good thing,¡± she said. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean that I want to seek them out in such a reckless way.¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°In the bank?¡± I asked. I figured she was being metaphorical, but for all I knew there might be an actual bank for points and the like. ¡°You know what it¡¯s like to go weeks without gaining a single point. The higher-tier Samurai do their bit to help, but we¡¯re still left waiting for an excuse to make a few points. The daily allotment is laughable.¡± ¡°Uh huh,¡± I agreed. And then Myalis sighed. What she means, and what you¡¯re afraid of asking about because it will ruin your reputation, is that Incursions are, at best, difficult to predict. A Vanguard could go weeks without earning any more points than what they receive from their daily allotment. That allotment is ten points per day, before you ask. That... meant that however many points I got were about all I would get for a while. Damn. I was wondering why points were so easy to come by. It was because the points I did make was all I would be making. ¡°Are there any other ways of making lots of points out there? Other than tossing yourself into every Incursion.¡± Gomorrah looked my way for a moment. ¡°Healing people or saving them, I suppose. It¡¯s a lot of effort for one or two points a day. Other than that... not truly? You wait until an incursion appears within your territory.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. The nun pointed off to the side, towards the entrance of the shelter. ¡°You¡¯re forgetting your gun.¡± I blinked over at the gun in question. The fake Antimatter cannon was hovering away next to the shelter¡¯s entrance. It didn¡¯t look like anyone had tried messing with it. I wasn¡¯t sure if that was because the civilians we¡¯d been moving were smart, or if it was because the thing looked like it was advanced enough to take care of anyone handsy all on its own. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s a fake,¡± I said. ¡°What.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fake.¡± I gestured at it dismissively. ¡°It¡¯s not real. A prop? It¡¯s a decoy meant to make people think twice.¡± The nun was staring at me. ¡°You bought a fake gun?¡± ¡°It worked,¡± I said in my defence. ¡°It was a valid bit of big gun diplomacy.¡± ¡°If I hadn¡¯t seen you summoning things, I would genuinely question whether or not you¡¯re a Samurai Saint.¡± I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯m the farthest thing you¡¯ve seen from a saint, trust me.¡± ¡°I think I¡¯m starting to see that,¡± she muttered. Then, with a sigh, the nun gestured in the general direction of our destination. ¡°Shall we?¡± I was about to agree that we should when something at the end of the street caught my eye. A bit more motion that turned out to be a Model Three sprinting around the corner. It wasn¡¯t the first to make its way around the block. We had a few of the soldiers keeping an eye on strays the entire time we were loading up civilians. This one wasn¡¯t alone. More Model Threes came rushing around, a wolfpack of salivating wolf-like aliens that scrambled across the ground and pushed towards us. And then the Model Sixes, huge and tanky as all hell, came lumbering around the bend. ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± I said. The tide had finally come around. Whisper hissed three times in quick succession as I tried to nail the Model Threes in the lead. Spinning garrote wires tore through the pack, but they just widened their passage and came around. The sound of crashing from behind had me turning to see the barricade being blown aside by a heavy Model Four, its bristling form standing amidst the flames like some sort of creature out of some preacher¡¯s nightmare. ¡°Ah, double fuck.¡± ¡°Alleyway,¡± Gomorrah said as she pointed. ¡°We blocked that one,¡± I said. ¡°Then we¡¯ll unblock it,¡± she replied. A lick of fire burped out of the nozzles tucked under her arms. I nodded and started to back towards the alley while taking pot shots at the approaching aliens. A flick of my eye activated my shoulder-mounted guns, adding to the fun as they started to riddle the faster aliens full of holes. Gomorroah rushed to the nearest side passage, brought her arms up, and turned the tipped over cars and dumpsters into so much scrap. Her twin jets of fire went from an orangey white to a brilliant, eye-searing blue, and all the crap in her path started to melt away. I left her to it, the heat around the alley, even two dozen meters away from me, was enough to warm my back up to an uncomfortable degree. I was just considering asking Myalis for some ammo with a bit more kick when I suddenly found myself falling over. Something hot screamed through my leg, but in that moment I was far more concerned with the ground rushing up to meet my face. *** Chapter Sixty-Six - Impaled... Again Chapter Sixty-Six - Impaled... Again ¡°There has never been a problem that can¡¯t be solved with enough high explosive ordnance.¡± --BoomBox, to the Gun Nut Association of America, June 2041 *** I¡¯d been hurt before. Plenty of times, even. Losing an arm had been pretty rough, so was the whole ordeal with my eye melting in my face and my entire right side getting toasted. But that had been years ago, the day I became an orphan even. That particular pain was a forgotten one, or at least a pain so far back that the memories had dulled a bit. I knew, intellectually, that I¡¯d been hurt, but that was it. Just like I could recall a first day at a new school, or the day I met Lucy, or a bunch of other memories. Even the most vivid of them still faded. Having my face meet the ground while something hot shoved its way through my left thigh was a brand new sort of pain. Much fresher, much more... in the moment. It kind of reminded me of having a pole shoved into my gut, actually. I gave it point five gut-poles out of 5. I gasped, the stinging in my nose that was making my eyes water quickly fading from my attention as I rolled over and stared down at my leg. There was a nice bit of quill sticking into and out of it, a sharpened black spine with two points and probably all sorts of other interesting features that I couldn¡¯t make out because it was currently impaling me. ¡°Fuck,¡± I managed to whimper. ¡°Stray Cat?!¡± Gommorah screamed. She moved over to my side in a flurry of black robes, stared at the wound in my leg, then unfroze. The next thing I knew she was spraying a forest fire¡¯s worth of napalm all across the street, creating a wall between us and the nasties. ¡°Are you okay?¡± she asked. ¡°Fuck no,¡± I said. Dumbass the First skittered by my side, wiggled to and fro a bit, then settled down. The quill missed the bone. Not only that, its payload failed to inject itself. You¡¯re rather lucky. ¡°What?¡± I asked. I touched the quill, some vague memory about putting pressure on wounds coming up to the surface. That memory could get fucked, touching the hole hurt like an entire bag full of bitches. You¡¯re going to need to push the quill out from the entry wound. I would advise against pulling it out the other end until at least half of it is out and you can avoid touching the point. ¡°Are you fucking serious?¡± I asked. ¡°What about the blood loss?¡± You have a few minutes. It¡¯s hardly as if this is your first time being impaled today. I wished that Myalis had some sort of physical avatar I could direct a well-deserved glare at. There was no way she wasn¡¯t saying that on purpose. ¡°Gomorrah,¡± I said. ¡°You need to push it out!¡± The nun laid down another line or fire across the street, the asphalt around us ticking and steaming up. I didn¡¯t know if it would hold back the more adventurous plants, but it was something. She crouched onto one knee next to me, and I heard a sharp intake of breath as she looked at my leg. ¡°I need to push it out?¡± she asked. ¡°That¡¯s the idea,¡± I said. I wrapped my hands around my thigh, ignoring the warm blood seeping around my hands and running off of my jacket. At least the jacket seemed hydrophobic, which was neat. ¡°You should be wearing armour,¡± the nun said as she gingerly began to poke the back end of the quill. I gasped as the entire thing moved and she instantly stopped. ¡°S-sorry,¡± I said. ¡°No one¡¯s ever been that deep in me before.¡± ¡°A-ah,¡± she said, a sort of confused sound choked off halfway. When she pushed next it was with a lot more force. Was she being vindictive because I poked at her prudishness? The quill¡¯s middle was a lot thicker than the tip. I felt like I could maybe sympathize with women giving birth naturally as everything around the exit wound stretched and pulled. And then it was out and the quill clattered to the ground with a glass-like tinkle. ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± I breathed. The wound was bleeding a whole lot more, and wasn¡¯t exactly a pretty sight. ¡°Myalis, nanos and blood and something to cover this shit up,¡± I said. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. We¡¯ll start with some Woundstop, a Nano-Regenerative Suite, and yes, some Hemo-Restore to top you off. Three boxes appeared next to me one after the other and were ordered by nearness. I popped the closest, pulled out the syringe within, and gingerly shoved it into the hole in my leg and allowed the gunk inside it to patch up my new orifice. The pain faded to a dull throb, but I still felt light headed as I grabbed the other two medical supplies and jammed them into the exposed skin of my thigh. ¡°Running¡¯s going to be fun,¡± I said as I tested my muscle and found it completely fucked. ¡°Let¡¯s get started with walking then,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°The alley will have cooled down enough by now.¡± I grunted something that could pass for agreement and accepted the hand she gave me to get onto my feet. Dumbass the First skittered behind me, its big plasma cannon thumping a few times as it fired into and past the wall of fire Gomorrah had laid out. ¡°Let¡¯s get going,¡± I said. My steps were a hobbling mess, like Lucy on one of her bad days, but with none of the experience and only half the grace. If it wasn¡¯t for Gomorrah next to me to hang onto I would have found myself ordering a cane from Myalis. And then Gomorrah grunted and pitched forwards. I took a half-step, expecting her to support me, but she was busy dropping to the ground next to me. I hopped on one leg for a couple of steps before dropping onto a knee, the opposite from my injured leg, and rolled to the side. We were nearly at the entrance to the alley, so the ground was like an unlit oven, painfully hot, but not enough to burn. I winced as the tumble sent a shock up my leg, but I had bigger things to worry about. ¡°Goodness,¡± the nun swore as she stumbled back to her feet. There was a trio of Quills embedded into the back of her robes. They fell off as she turned around and faced the bastard that had attacked her. I glanced over too. A Model Five, the same one that had burst through our barricade, was stomping through the fire as if it didn¡¯t give a shit about the flames licking at its stumpy legs. Its body, covered in bristling quills, shifted as it turned towards Gomorrah. Then a pair of little tentacles wiggled out from its belly, tore out some of the spines along its side, and flung them forwards with a pair of whip cracks. Gomorrah shielded her face and hopped to the side in time to avoid one of them. The other glanced off her ribs with a dull thump. ¡°God damn you, heathen monster!¡± she shouted before turning to incinerate the beast. That¡¯s when an entire pack of Model Threes charged around the Model Five and lunged towards her. The nun started walking backwards, her arms dipping to lay down some fire onto the dog-like aliens aiming to take her out. The Model Five, not to be outdone, started to lumber forwards as well. I wasn¡¯t about to let it kill my nun buddy, I¡¯m sure she had many years of complaining about my heathen ways left in her. Whisper was off to the side, my shoulder-mounted guns had emptied their loads into the Model Threes already and were dipping back to reload. I wasn¡¯t at the right angle to pull out my Trench Maker or the handgun I¡¯d gotten from Cleanze. Dumbass the First was already firing into the blaze around us, presumably thinning out the herd. So I raised my new arm, pointed it to the biggest asshole in the bunch, and screamed. ¡°Rocket!¡± My jacket¡¯s arm flared out as a tiny black speck darted out of my arm and slammed into the Model Five¡¯s flank. The big beastie seemed to pause for just a second, a second long enough for me to close my eyes. The world flashed white, I felt a wave of pressure shoving me down, and then a nice smattering of pulped aliens started to rain down around me. When I blinked again, it was to find the Model Five¡¯s front legs standing up, with nobody to support them. Gomorrah had stumbled back a bit, and the Model Threes nearest the back had all been flung away. ¡°What,¡± the nun asked. ¡°It might be tougher than average,¡± I said. ¡°But we¡¯re still two Samurai.¡± *** Chapter Sixty-Seven - Life Story Chapter Sixty-Seven - Life Story ¡°Most people look at the charts and graphs that mark the spread of an incursion and assume that the aliens do things by the numbers. First they send out the weaker Models to scout and gather, these are the Model Ones and Threes and Fours, with the occasional Six and Eight and Five thrown in. And only when the area is saturated with them, when there¡¯s no more resistance, do the bigger Models come out to play. That¡¯s a fat load of bullshit. The bigger Models are either behemoths able to tango with a tank or are nightmares made flesh. Some are no bigger than a human and others can comfortably bring down skyscrapers by punching them a few times. They can show up at any time. The aliens don¡¯t have a doctrine. Don¡¯t expect them to play fair.¡± --Major Hunt, to Prisoner Platoon 5874, 2054 *** I don¡¯t know why, between myself and Gomorrah, I was elected default leader of our group of two. She had more experience with the Samurai thing than I did, not to mention she was a nun, which meant a sort of mental image of competency of a sort. I was an orphan with a limp and a bit of an attitude problem. Gomorrah still deferred to me. We made our way into a building with a Casper Blackman Associates LLC sign above a rusty door. Dumbass was able to unlock it while Dumbass Two and Three kept an eye on the area around us. I didn¡¯t like using my new Samurai buddy as a crutch, but until my leg finished knitting itself together I was kinda stuck. ¡°Where to from here?¡± Gomorrah asked as she looked around the lobby. It was the kind of place that was pretty standard for some front business. Lots of generic posters, a few plastic seats to one side next to a vending machine that looked near-empty. There were offices at the back that looked mostly empty, and the reception desk had a defaced older-model android sitting behind it. ¡°I doubt you brought us here on purpose,¡± she said. ¡°Nah,¡± I said with a shake of my head. ¡°Just wanted a spot out of the rain. Our goal is... somewhere that way.¡± I gestured across the offices, pointing more or less towards where we were heading. ¡°I don¡¯t know what these guys do here, but they had a door.¡± Gomorrah tilted her head to the side just a bit. ¡°Plushies.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Plushies. They¡¯re a LLC that does the paperwork for a factory in New Hong Kong that makes knock-off plushie Samurai.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°Okay. That¡¯s nice. Let¡¯s find an elevator up a few floors. There should be some bridges across the street. We can get to the hospital from above ground level.¡± ¡°Fewer aliens that way,¡± she said. ¡°You say that like it¡¯s a bad thing,¡± I said. She shrugged her shoulders. ¡°That¡¯s fair. I¡¯ve made a good deal of points. I¡¯ll try not to be greedy.¡± I started forwards and she followed along, a good thing because I didn¡¯t want to faceplant any more than I needed to. The muscles in my thigh were getting better too. I made a show of looking for the elevator while thinking about what she said. The way she worded that suggested that there wouldn¡¯t be any more points to be made in a bit. Would someone stop the Incursion? Of course they would. We were Tier Ones, barely even worthy of the title Samurai, but people like Deus Ex? A few dozen like her could probably clear half the city. Someone stronger and older would probably just glass the rotten parts of the city. ¡°Think there will be any work for us tomorrow?¡± I asked. Gomorrah nodded. ¡°This area¡¯s under the Family¡¯s purview. They usually leave the gutter clearing to local low-tier Samurai. That¡¯s us.¡± ¡°Gutter clearing?¡± I asked. She looked at me, then back ahead. We¡¯d found the elevator, and it was still working. ¡°The sewers and subways and the rest of the undercity. It tends to get swarmed pretty bad. It can take months to clear it all out. Not a lot of points to be made, but some are better than none.¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather not go sewer diving,¡± I said. ¡°Then enter your name into the next lottery.¡± I nodded while having no idea what she was talking about. ¡°Myalis, which floor are we going to?¡± I asked. Not even going to look at a map to figure it out yourself? How lazy. Floor Sixteen. ¡°You¡¯re a darling,¡± I deadpanned as I shoved my thumb onto the right button. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°You talk to your AI out loud?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°There are upgrades that allow you to subvocalize.¡± I shrugged. ¡°I like snarking back.¡± ¡°How very surprising,¡± she said. I pointed at her. ¡°Exactly like that, yeah.¡± She snorted. ¡°So, are you really a nun, or is it some sort of cosplay?¡± I asked. ¡°Because if it is, I do approve. The whole nun kink isn¡¯t my cup of tea, but I don¡¯t mind a bit of roleplay.¡± She turned my way. ¡°I could light you on fire,¡± she said. ¡°Is that an innuendo?¡± She turned away from me and stared at the elevator doors. ¡°I¡¯m... not actually a nun, no. But I was part of a pretty religious school.¡± I nodded along. ¡°Never had much of that at my schools. Didn¡¯t have much schooling either.¡± ¡°Where did your parents send you?¡± she asked. ¡°To an orphanage, mostly,¡± I said. She tensed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said. I waved it off. ¡°I¡¯m used to it.¡± The elevator dinged and I yanked my Trench Maker out before the door had even begun to open. Gomorrah shifted next to me, an arm raising to point out into... an empty lobby area. ¡°Just being careful,¡± I said, a bit sheepish. ¡°So, uh, you have... parents and stuff?¡± She snorted. ¡°Yeah, I have parents. Well, a parent.¡± ¡°Sorry to hear that?¡± I tried. She shook her head as we started moving through the abandoned lobby area and into a sort of concourse. It was pretty typical for buildings with multiple bridges across them to have stalls and shops and such in them so that people walking from one part of the city to the next could stop over to buy shit. ¡°My mom left when I was young. My dad did his best, but he¡¯s an office guy, married to the job. So he sent me to the best school he could afford. Hence the religious upbringing. Or partially religious... I¡¯m not too sure about it all, now that I¡¯m one of the Samurai that we treated like saints.¡± ¡°We¡¯re just people with alien storefronts in our heads,¡± I said. I would like to think that I¡¯m more than a mere storefront. ¡°I suppose so,¡± she said. ¡°My... mom¡¯s back. Not with my dad, she¡¯s just back in my life. The moment I became this.¡± She gestured at herself. ¡°She reappeared out of nowhere and is suddenly the nicest person I¡¯ve ever met. It... it feels wrong.¡± I eyed her from the corner of my eye. Did she want some sympathy? Or maybe It had been weighing her down for a while and I was just the first one to come along that could listen to her. Something said that Gommorah wasn¡¯t drowning in friends. ¡°I¡¯m no expert when it comes to parents,¡± I said. ¡°But I¡¯ve seen lots of people acting nice. The act can be a good thing. Sometimes you just need to pretend to be a good person to keep people calm. But most of the time, when someone switches from being an ass to being nice, there¡¯s something fucky going on. At least, that¡¯s my experience as a shitty orphan from a shitty orphanage.¡± We finally arrived at one of the bridges, one of those fancy ones with glass walls and a glass ceiling which was being assaulted by rain from above. The skies had actually brightened a bit, some of the cloud cover breaking apart here and there, but not right above us. I moved closer to the edge, feeling for the soreness in my leg as I moved. It was a bit annoying, pulling strangely with every stretch, but I could walk on it well enough. The roads below were cleared of people. A few Model Threes were sniffing around, probably the very front of the next wave. Had we stalled them with our little fireshow? ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I looked to Gomorrah, then followed her pointing finger into the sky. At first I couldn¡¯t see anything. The bridge wasn¡¯t near the topmost floor, so all the buildings around us towered above and cut off line of sight except for straight down the street. Even that was a mess with other bridges cutting across. And then, from out between two bridges came a huge grey-black form that swooped up and under the passages. At first I thought it was a hoverbus. It was way too big to be a Model One. The snap of giant wings shot that idea down. The monster was huge, with four great wings that seemed almost fuzzy and a dog-like face at the end of a long neck. It had four eyes, eyes that were locked on us. ¡°Ah fuck,¡± I said as it swooped towards us with Cat-sized talons extended. Chapter Sixty-Eight - Hitting the Fan Chapter Sixty-Eight - Hitting the Fan ¡°The casualty rate for Samurai in the field is nearly two percent. That might sound low to most, but that¡¯s higher than the casualty rate of any normal job available out there. It¡¯s twenty times higher than the rate at which soldiers die on average, even in times of active war. What does that mean to normal folks though? Sure, Samurai die, and sure, they die fairly often, but to Joe Average that¡¯s nothing, right? It becomes something when you realize that the best estimate on the number of Samurai worldwide is barely in the seven digits. Each loss is a blow to humanity¡¯s chances of surviving.¡± --Excerpt from a censored late-night interview with former statistician Patric Whelbler. *** Shit had, in my experience, an incredible ability to go from a calm standstill to hitting a fan in a miraculously small amount of time and with suddenness that was downright jarring at times. Even as the gigantic alien bird rammed into the glass-walled bridge we were standing on, my mind was still trying to work through the conversation with Gomorrah. Maybe I wasn¡¯t used to fighting enough yet to be able to afford being distracted like that. Sharp black claws punched through safety glass and tore into the sides of the bridge as if the walls were made of so much cardboard. The floor kicked out from under me, and with my one lame leg, it took everything I had not to fall onto my ass. ¡°Run!¡± Gomorrah screamed. She put actions to words and sprinted to the far end of the bridge. I didn¡¯t have any such luck. My footing was already screwed and my balance thrown off. The huge alien face crashing through the glass stretching towards me was all it took for me to stumble backwards instead of running ahead. I tried to bring Whisper around, but by the time I did the alien¡¯s head had torn its way out of the bridge leaving a me-sized hole in its side that allowed the rain and wind from outside to pour in. My crossbow was swinging around to aim at the alien through the glass when the bridge creaked. It felt like I was in one of those ancient cartoons. The whole world paused for a long second while the metal groaned and, finally, snapped. An I-beam crashed through the floor on the side the alien had hit, and the bridge twisted. The huge bird scrambled out and onto the top of the bridge, casting a deep shadow down onto me as its weight came down on the only side holding things up. And then, just like that, the bridge gave way. I saw Gomorrah at the far end stumble to safety as everything went sideways. My shoes found purchase on the sleek floor just as it began to tilt down. Even through my ear protection I could hear the entire structure coming apart. There was just enough time for a well-deserved ¡°Fuck!¡± as the bridge came tumbling down, and it brought me down with it. In those moments of free-fall, I had entirely too long to wonder just how many floors up we were. The bridge hit something, glass and metal rending, the motion of everything around me coming to an absolute and jarring stop. I bounced off the floor hard enough to expel the air out of my lungs and the back of my head, which hit just a moment later, exploded in a whole new sort of pain that sent stars scattering across my vision. Rolling down the now nearly vertical bridge was an interesting sensation that ended with another painful thump against a glass facade. I didn¡¯t move for a bit, too much pain and confusion running through me all at once for my mind to keep up. Still, I figured some of the many, many drugs I¡¯d taken that day were circulating around because it didn¡¯t take too long for me to come back to my senses. I was laying atop a pane of glass. Not the hard asphalt of the road below. It took some mental gymnastics and some staring down and into another passageway for me to figure out what had happened. The bridge I¡¯d been on had been shorn apart, and then it did what most things did when gravity got to them. I was just stupidly lucky enough that there was another bridge beneath. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. A bridge which groaned under me. Coughing a few times, I took some deep breaths and rolled onto my back. The sky was barely visible above me, the twenty or so feet of bridge I¡¯d fallen with like a tunnel pointing to the heavens. I ignored the few raindrops splattering my cheeks and face and just took a moment to be thankful I wasn¡¯t so much goop on the streets below. Cat? ¡°Yeah?¡± I muttered. Cat, that was a Model Eleven. It is undoubtedly still alive, and it is smart enough to come back for you. ¡°Ah... shit,¡± I said. ¡°Can you tell it to give me a minute?¡± Claws rammed into and through the walls of the bridge section above me and I screamed as I rolled into a ball to protect myself. The entire vertical shaft flipped over, somehow missing me as it fell off the side of the bridge I was now on. I could have sworn that bits of metal moved so close to me that I felt them whispering past my side. And then the rain hit in full as what little cover I had was gone. I started to roll onto my feet only for my boot to go off the edge of the bridge¡¯s sloped roof. I decided to go a bit slower after that. A bit of looking around was enough for me to spot the Model Eleven swooping back up a moment before a catastrophic crash resounded from below. No doubt the bridge segment finally hitting the ground. The bird had to flap hard to turn in the limited space in the road, but it did, and then it was coming right for me. ¡°Guns!¡± I called out. Only one of my shoulder mounted guns came back up and around. The other wiggled a bit near my back and then stopped doing even that much. The row of flechettes fired all the way over to the Model Eleven did a whole lot of nothing. I swallowed and looked around for Whisper, but the gun was nowhere in sight. One of the Dumbasses, three, I thought, was nearby, but it was a crushed mess. For a moment I imagined myself being swallowed by the huge bird, but a line of fire from the heavens cut across its path and the bird deftly swooped out of its way. Gomorrah! The nun was way above me, hanging out of the torn section left of the bridge with one of her arm cannons pointed ahead of the Model Eleven and laying out a wash of fire in its path. The damned thing was clever though, and her fire too damned slow and short ranged for it to actually stop the huge bird. It did buy me some time. I tore my Trench Maker out of its holster and started running along the length of the roof. The moment the Model Eleven spun around again I slowed to a jog and started firing at it. The impacts of the Trench Maker hitting were hard to miss as each one burst into a small ball of flames. The fact that they did nothing to slow it down was just as hard to miss. I spun my gun arm around and fired the last three shots into the glass ahead, punching fist-sized holes in it that I only made larger when I dove into the glass feet-first. The entire square of safety glass caved in, and I rode it down into the open passage below. The Model Eleven flew past the top of the bridge a moment later. ¡°How do I kill that thing?¡± I asked as I shoved my Trench Maker back in place for it to reload. ¡°A rocket?¡± One of your arm rockets could incapacitate or even kill it if exceptionally well-aimed, but that would be difficult. ¡°Myalis... can I afford a rocket launcher?¡± Yes Cat, you can afford a rocket launcher. I felt a nasty, vindictive grin tugging at my features. ¡°Myalis. Give me a rocket launcher.¡± Class I Heavy Explosive Launchers Points Reduced to... 4783 New Purchase: Single Use ¡®Simurgh¡¯s Tear¡¯ Anti-Aerial Rocket Launcher Points Reduce to... 4683 Myalis, being the gem she was, didn¡¯t even bother with the box. ¡°Let¡¯s see if that oversized pigeon likes explosions, shall we?¡± *** Chapter Sixty-Nine - Nice Chapter Sixty-Nine - Nice ¡°If you¡¯re going to kill a Samurai, you had better do it quick. If you¡¯re not fast about it, then they¡¯ll come right back at you, better armed and a whole lot more pissed off. In fact, the best way to remove a Samurai as a threat, if you find yourself unable to kill them outright, is to place the things they care about in jeopardy. It is always easier to play around them than through. They are the queens on the chess board, but that doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t take out their pawns.¡± --Professor Patterson, Military Historian, June 2029 *** The Model Eleven was, in a few words, one dead motherfucker. In my pre-Samurai life, all of five hours ago, I had often wished that I could visit some bodily harm to some people and occasionally to some things. I¡¯m pretty sure those were natural urges, the kind that didn¡¯t fit well in a more-or-less civilised society. But now I had a rocket launcher and every right to blow up the thing pissing me off. I walked over to the nearest window overlooking the rain-slicked street and looked around for the gigantic alien. My new eye helped by circling the beast in a small but growing red circle. Growing because the bastard was flying right towards me. I shouldered my new toy, letting the surprisingly comfortable resting pads shift onto my shoulders as I did a bit of mental math. The alien was coming at me, making a shot fairly easy. There was a glass panel before me that would undoubtedly set off the rocket in my face if I fired into it. And the alien was carrying a car. That last one had me blinking dumbly even as the Model Eleven swooped upwards with a flick of its just wings. Its claws tore themselves open through the carcass of a heavy-looking car, letting go of it just before the alien itself flew past above. I said something that would have set Lucy¡¯s ears on fire as I jumped away from the window and tried to sprint away. The side of the bridge shook as half a ton of hover car rammed into and through it, sending glass and plaster and bits of wire flying all over. The lights in the bridge which had still been on flickered off at last and for a moment as everything shifted underfoot, I was afraid that this bridge would collapse too. When the emergency lights at either end of the passage came on and bathed everything in a nice ominous red it was enough for me to see the nice big hole left in the side of the bridge, a hole plugged by an unshapely wreck of a car. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I said. Models above the single digits tend to be either particularly dangerous, or hyper-specialized towards completing a single task exceptionally well. I would usually advise against facing one until you were better prepared, but I think you might be able to succeed here, though at fairly great risk. I swallowed past my nerves and started to look around to see if I could spot the bastard through one of the windows. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect the car.¡± Twin-digit Models tend to be a great deal more intelligent than their single-digit counterparts. ¡°You don¡¯t say,¡± I said. The Model Eleven was circling around at the far end of the street, a big black speck against the grey-on-grey of the buildings there. Indeed. When using the rocket launcher, pull the trigger to the halfway mark until the reticule locks onto the target. At the tone, pull the trigger all the way. The rocket has a gyroscopic turning system and enough maneuvering thrusters that even someone with your aim will hit a marked target. At least I didn¡¯t need to work hard to find a place from which to fire at the Model Eleven. It had opened up a nice big hole that I could stand in to aim. I reshouldered the launcher, found the trigger set right where my index wanted to rest naturally, and aimed it as best I could towards the too-big bird. A few panels opened up at the back of the tube at the same time as an overlay appeared in my vision. It had a large box with the words ¡°Place Target Within¡± above it. I shifted just a bit, then pulled the trigger back until I met some resistance. The box flashed, a smaller box appeared over the Model Elevel, then faded as it dipped beneath another passage only to return a moment later. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The resistance in the trigger disappeared and I pulled it all the way back. The rocket came out of the tube with a dull ¡®thwump¡¯ and launched itself forwards all of three meters on a downwards arc. For just a second I thought I¡¯d messed something up, but then the rocket came to life with a roar and shot across the sky trailing a thick line of smoke. The Model Eleven, the clever bastard, dipped to the side and behind one of the bridges in its path. I could just barely make out the crunch of it landing hard behind cover. The rocket angled away from it, then its thruster stopped. The missile spun ninety degrees in mid-air then fired off sideways and into the Model Eleven just as it reappeared in my line of sight on the other side of the bridge. The explosion--a ball of orange flames that could have swallowed a semi-trailer--was immensely satisfying. Seeing the blackened and torn corpse of the Model Eleven falling to the ground and crashing atop an abandoned car was enjoyable enough to send shivers down my spine. Target Eliminated! Reward... 100 Points I tossed the tube of the now-spent launcher aside. It would have been neat to carry it around, but it was a bit heavy and unwieldy to bring with me. ¡°That was the nastiest alien I¡¯ve dealt with so far,¡± I said. Model Elevens can be quite the threat. If the incursion lasts long enough they will begin to range farther out while carrying pods of Antithesis hive material. Eliminating this one was a job well done. ¡°Hmm,¡± I agreed. Then, because I deserved a break, I leaned against the nearest wall and took a moment to just breath and allow the adrenaline making a mess of my everything to just leak out. ¡°We should go find Gomorrah,¡± I said. I can connect to her AI and inform him that you¡¯re still alive. ¡°Him?¡± I asked. It chose to identify as masculine based on Gomorrah¡¯s profile. I blinked, noted that AIs could do as they pleased, and shoved off my resting place. Moving now that things weren¡¯t exploding, falling, or both, was surprisingly hard. It was like the morning after a day at the gym, or a night spent stretching with Lucy. Everything was sore and some bits just plain hurt. ¡°I¡¯m going to need some more healing,¡± I said as I started to make my way towards the door with all the vim and vigor of someone sixty years my senior. I think at this point it would perhaps be wise to invest in some internal augmentations. There are ways to improve your musculature and to harden your skeleton. Not to mention replacing your organs with far superior versions. ¡°Going to replace my skull next?¡± I asked. Your head is the only part of you that doesn¡¯t need to be any harder than it is. I chuckled until I realized that chuckling hurt. ¡°I don¡¯t know how keen I am on going full cyborg,¡± I said. ¡°You got any... Baby¡¯s First Cybernetic Augmentation package? You know, some entry level drugs?¡± The augmentations you can purchase are hardly drugs. Merely improvements on your weak, squishy human body. ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± I said. ¡°First I want to get back to Gomorrah, I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be overjoyed that I didn¡¯t bite it. And then we¡¯ll figure things out from there.¡± As you wish. ¡°Could use something for the soreness though,¡± I said. You should consider yourself lucky that your last treatment of Nano Regeneratives is still running its course. It has been healing you as you go, albeit relatively slowly. ¡°Nice,¡± I said. ¡°Any way to get some sort of auto-injector of some sort?¡± I¡¯m certain something can be worked out. You could also purchase an internal nano-machine factory that turns the food you consume into micro-machines that constantly repair your body. It¡¯s relatively small, meant to sit just below your stomach. ¡°Sometimes you creep me out, you know,¡± I said. Perhaps. Most Vanguard eventually adopt a few methods to prevent themselves from dying too easily. It is, as you may have noticed, a somewhat high-risk position to be in, even with all the advantages you obtain. I thought about it, actually thought it through, while making my way over the bridge. If I passed away, the kittens would be in a bit of shit. I couldn¡¯t afford to die just yet. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°That might not be the worst idea.¡± Chapter Seventy - A Respite Chapter Seventy - A Respite ¡°Samurai don¡¯t stay human. Don¡¯t misunderstand, they¡¯re still very much people. It¡¯s just that you cannot expect an older, more experienced Samurai to be a normal human being. From prosthetic replacements for missing limbs to incredibly advanced body augmentations, over time, a Samurai will leave their mortal human shell behind and turn into something entirely different. Is it any wonder that some have a hard time sympathizing with the average person off the street?¡± --Allan Pascal, online lecture on the psychology of body augmentations, 2031 *** Myalis had a lot of options to go over. Her tone didn¡¯t quite change from its usual calm cadence but I had the impression that she was quite excited by the prospect of turning me into some sort of walking cyborg machine. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said to her last suggestion that I just get rid of everything inside my torso and replace it with a single machine. ¡°I¡¯m kind of fond of some of my internal organs. They¡¯ve been with me my entire life.¡± It¡¯s merely more cost effective in the long run to replace everything in one fell swoop rather than piecemeal. ¡°What if... I don¡¯t know, someone shoots me with a magnet?¡± The system is hardly that failable. Also, someone could shoot you with a far cheaper standard bullet now and have the same impact on your lifespan at a much reduced cost. ¡°Point,¡± I said as I reached the end of the bridge. I looked around another sort of open-concept concourse. ¡°You think we can take the elevators up?¡± The elevators are still reporting as functional. On the subject of internal augmentations, it might all be a moot point. The more complex additions would require an operation¡¯s suite to be installed, or else a series of drones to accomplish the operations and some time to recover afterwards. It would be unwise to do so in a battlefield. ¡°Then why are you pushing it so much?¡± I asked as I started following the signs towards an elevator bank. I¡¯m getting you used to the idea now, so that it¡¯s easier to convince you later. I snorted. ¡°You¡¯re such a pain in the ass,¡± I said. Of course not. I¡¯m merely thinking ahead. From your profile, I think it¡¯s safe to assume that one of your goals in the near future will be to heal and fix as many of the injuries and defects that your kittens have, correct? Stepping into the elevator, I paused for a moment as the doors shut on their own and I started moving up. ¡°Yeah. Yeah that¡¯s one thing I¡¯ll definitely be doing soon.¡± The points I¡¯d accumulated would be enough, I hoped. Some of the kittens only had little problems that I was sure a few meds could fix. Some had more complicated issues. Missing limbs would require some good prosthetics and the like. But I could afford them if I was a little more frugal with my points. In that case there¡¯s a good chance that you¡¯ll be investing points into medical catalogues already. I¡¯m just ensuring that you make the best out of them. I crossed my arms and waited as we climbed up a few dozen floors. Myalis was... probably being as honest as she could be. The AI really did have a tendency to try and help, even if sometimes I questioned her intelligence a bit. ¡°First thing¡¯s first, I¡¯m going to need to replace my hydra guns,¡± I said. Raising up my new arm, I poked at the mangled remains of the right-side mount. ¡°Maybe something with more bang.¡± That¡¯s not a terrible idea. Might I suggest a more comprehensive system than the plain Hydra? ¡°Now¡¯s the time,¡± I said. I had points to burn, especially if they would keep me alive. ¡°I do like the shoulder mounts.¡± Then perhaps a full suite instead. Four arms to replace the two you have. You could also dip into your Plasma Casting Weaponry catalogue for something a little more dangerous than your Lancejets. I¡¯m afraid that there aren¡¯t that many subtle weapons in that category though. ¡°The plasma rifles weren¡¯t very loud,¡± I said. No. But their bullets glow. That might be outweighed by the advantage brought by purchasing a set of weapons that don¡¯t require standard ammunition to fire, using gas and pellets instead. You could purchase a set of weapons with a greater rate of fire and the ability to fire an order of magnitude more projectiles before reloading. I felt a grin tugging at my lips, one that was really helping get past the pain of my last battering. ¡°That sounds nice. Maybe mix and match? Two plasma... smg things, and a pair of bigger, meaner guns. Something that won¡¯t just annoy the next double-digit I run into.¡± This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. There should be some options like that in your Kinetic Handguns catalogue. Perhaps a Kneebreaker. It¡¯s essentially a pared-down light anti-material rifle. ¡°Those are certainly words I¡¯ve heard before,¡± I said. The elevator stopped with a cheerful ¡®ding¡¯ and the doors slid open while I was reaching for my Trench Maker. It fires very big bullets very fast. I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t simplify it more than that. I snorted and shook my head. The floor we¡¯d stopped at was filled with similar shops, so I was greeted by the eerie jingles of a dozen empty stores as I stepped out and looked around for something to jump out at me. To the left. And as for the Kneebreaker, it¡¯s just about the hardest-hitting handgun you have. It fires an osmium ball through... the explanation will be pointless. It¡¯s a small railgun. ¡°Aww, you can explain things if you want,¡± I said. ¡°I know how much you like explaining all the little unimportant details to me.¡± Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you as a Vanguard. I could have been paired with someone who at least had the intellect to understand all of my explanations. It¡¯s a good thing you¡¯re mostly enjoyable and your penchant for making things explode is so entertaining. I felt a bit of a twinge in my chest, one that I suspected wasn¡¯t from one of my many new injuries. ¡°Well, I like you,¡± I said. ¡°So as Lucy would say, you¡¯re stuck with me.¡± She would have been a much nicer Vanguard if she had the right drive. I glared at the empty air before me, though there was no heat in it. ¡°Hands off, she¡¯s mine.¡± I don¡¯t have hands. ¡°You know what I meant,¡± I said with a warning shake of a finger. ¡°What did you mean?¡± I jumped about a foot in the air and looked around like the last deer caught in the headlights of a semi. My attention locked onto a pristine and unruffled Gomorrah who stepped out from a passage ahead. ¡°You¡¯re alive,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t think there was any doubt about me surviving,¡± she said. ¡°You, on the other hand, look like you took a dip through the first few circles of hell. Are you injured?¡± ¡°No more than usual,¡± I said. She shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s not reassuring.¡± I grinned back at her, looked around, and on spotting a nice little restaurant with some seats out front, made my way over to a nice bench where I could take some weight off my feet. ¡°I¡¯m a bit tired,¡± I admitted. ¡°But I¡¯ll be fine.¡± She looked me up and down. ¡°Take your time,¡± she said. I was about to respond when a familiar clicking came from around the corner. I looked over in time to see Dumbass the First and Dumbass Two skittering around the corner, both of them hanging onto one end of a familiar rifle. ¡°My Whisper!¡± I said. The Dumbasses came by my side and I picked the rifle from their back and looked it over. It had gained some scuffs and the bipod legs at the bottom were fucked, but it looked usable still. ¡°Nice work, Dumbasses.¡± The drones spun around in a little dance while I set the gun across my lap. ¡°You¡¯re a strange one,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°You need help replacing some of your gear?¡± she asked. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say no,¡± I said. ¡°I think I¡¯ll need all the help I can get.¡± Gomorrah pulled out a seat next to mine, then she looked over to a glass display with some sodas behind it. ¡°Temptation has a hold on me,¡± she muttered before walking over to it. With an unexpectedly swift kick, she broke the glass front and pulled out a pair of sodas from the rack behind. She placed one onto the table next to me before sitting down with her own. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t peg you as the vandalism sort.¡± ¡°I¡¯m thirsty,¡± she said. ¡°I bet you are,¡± I replied with a wiggle of my eyebrows that would have made Lucy proud. She scoffed and reached up under her hood. Her mask came off with a hiss, and the stern woman¡¯s face was set aside to reveal a beautiful young woman. She had high cheekbones and the sort of symmetrical face bordered by messy blonde hair that could drive someone mad. ¡°With a face like that, I don¡¯t know why you wear that mask,¡± I said. She glared at me, the look a lot stronger now that I could see her piercing blue eyes. ¡°It¡¯s because I¡¯d like to keep my face the way it is. With the amount of injuries you accrue you ought to think of armour yourself.¡± I hummed. That was an idea. But it would need to wait for me to calm down a bit. *** Chapter Seventy-One - Tail Chapter Seventy-One - Tail ¡°The average pre-Invasion soldier had two and a half months of basic training. A lot of that was spent with whatever the standard arms of the time were. Then they would receive advanced training on the use of various specialty arms. In peacetime, that training could go on for months (with the training of more specialized troops spread over a year or more), perfecting their use of a particular weapon or weapons platform until they reached a level of base competency. Modern PMCs vary greatly. Some give week-long crash-training courses, similar to the training pre-invasion police received in some parts of the former United States. Others have training that lasts for upwards of six months before they¡¯re considered ready to use a specific weapon in the field. A Samurai will often pick up a weapon, use it with no training, and discard it for another just as rapidly.¡± --Major Hunt of Clenze PMC, on the subject of weapons expertise *** ¡°Just one thing, then we can head out,¡± I said as I crushed the can Gomorrah had given me and flung it towards a trash can. It bounced off the nearest table, missing it by about a meter. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± the nun asked while eyeing my incredible throwing prowess. ¡°I need to replace my back mounted weapons,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re kinda handy to have and I¡¯d rather not get neck deep in crap without them.¡± She nodded. ¡°Certainly then. I think we should be off after. The break is nice, but we have places to be.¡± I stood up and wobbled a bit, my legs surprisingly weak. Or maybe not all that surprisingly. It had been a long day already. Once I¡¯d gotten my feet under me, I pulled off my jacket and tossed it onto the table nearest us. Then I pulled off my auto-holster jacket too and flung it on top of that. The air was a bit breezy once I¡¯d divested myself of pretty much everything I was wearing. I noticed Gomorrah staring at me rather hard. I wondered if she was checking me out or if she was more interested in the burns that marred the skin from just under my right ribs all the way over to the right side of my face. ¡°Burns,¡± I explained. She snapped her attention away, face immediately turning red. ¡°I wasn¡¯t...¡± she began but trailed off. A moment later she was fumbling her mask back on. ¡°They get stared at a lot,¡± I said. ¡°You learn to ignore it.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± she said. I shook my head and shifted my now exposed back. ¡°Alright Myalis, let¡¯s get this busted up thing off.¡± Of course. One moment. The Hydra will fall off in a few seconds. I felt the little attachments, those following along the line of my spine, warm up for just a moment before the entire device peeled off my back and crashed to the floor behind me. ¡°Ah, thanks,¡± I said. The hydra hadn¡¯t been heavy, but it was a bit of a drag to have it hanging off me for so long. I turned around and picked up the hydra from the floor and spun it around a few times. It... wasn¡¯t in the best of shapes. A few of the parts that went over my back were bent and one entire arm was a mangled mess. ¡°Are you going to put a shirt on?¡± Gomorrah asked. I blinked up at her. ¡°Huh? What, don¡¯t you nuns have communal showers or something?¡± ¡°No! I mean... yes, but those were showers. You¡¯re out in public!¡± I looked around, making a show of it as if to point out how we were alone. ¡°Uh-huh.¡± I¡¯ve been deleting all camera footage for a while now. ¡°We¡¯re fine,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, got a better version of this?¡± I asked while raising the hydra up. I do. Though perhaps you might want to try an entirely different set up? Your Sun Watcher Technology catalogue has a few pieces of equipment that are similar to the Hydra Autonomous Targeting Mount, though with superior armament and with some armouring. It¡¯s quite light as far as armours go, but it is flexible. ¡°Sure, why not,¡± I said. ¡°Is it more expensive?¡± Your Hydra Autonomous Targeting Mount cost fifty points. This will cost three times as much... that¡¯s one hundred and fifty points, in case you forgot how to multiply. I rolled my eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s try it. It¡¯ll at least help the nun out a bit. She¡¯s contorting herself every which way not to stare.¡± Gomorrah was twisted halfway around her seat so that she could look behind her and not in my general direction. She spun back towards me, no doubt with a fresh glare on. ¡°I was trying to give you some basic decency, something you clearly don¡¯t deserve.¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I snorted at her a moment before a new prompt appeared in my vision. New Purchase: Tiger¡¯s Tail Back-Mounted Turret System Points Reduced to... 4633 The box that appeared was a hefty thing. I opened it up and stared at the contents for a moment. The armour looked like... armour. Mostly some sort of tough almost-leather like material, with some metallic ribbing around it. It looked like it only covered the shoulders and ribs and all along the lower back and up to the nape of the neck. That was simple enough, really. It would leave my torso exposed, but I didn¡¯t mind that much. The problem was the tail. ¡°Myalis.¡± Catherine. ¡°Why does this have a tail?¡± I asked as I gestured at the three foot long metallic tail sticking out of the bottom of the armour. It can hold an additional weapon. Right now, it¡¯s mounted with a short range plasma launcher. The gas canisters are hidden in the joints along the tail. Also, it can turn into a thagomizer. The tail rose up a bit, then its end blossomed into a spikey ball. ¡°I¡¯m not impressed,¡± I said. It was a bit of a lie. I was a little impressed. The ball at the end of the tail caught on fire. ¡°...Okay.¡± I slid into the targeting mount with just a bit of difficulty, then I shifted my shoulders from side to side until it was on comfortably. The armoured parts were surprisingly thin, enough so that I could slide on my auto-reloader and my jacket with no problems. And then I was left with a pair of rather chunky mountings waiting for some sort of weapon by each shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll need something with some kick, and something that¡¯s got a decent rate of fire for all the little, weaker aliens,¡± I said. Two separate weapons? That¡¯s certainly doable. Might I suggest a fully automatic plasma caster for one mount and perhaps a light sabot-firing railgun for your opposite shoulder. ¡°Now you¡¯re talking.¡± New Purchase: Rapid-Fire Plasma Caster Points Reduced to... 4583 New Purchase: Farsight Light Railgun Canon Points Reduced to... 4483 Two more boxes appeared before me. One much thicker than the other, but neither of them were all that big. I popped open the first to reveal a rather... chubby weapon. It was the only way I could think to describe the gun. It didn¡¯t have any proper handle on it, and looked like someone had smashed two oranges together and stuck a small eggplant out the front. ¡°Okay?¡± I said. That¡¯s the plasma caster. The large protuberances are for the pellets the weapon fires and for its liquid cooling system. I didn¡¯t argue, just feeding the gun to the waiting arm over my left shoulder. The other was a lot cooler looking, at least. Long and sleek and matte black, with a forked barrel that glowed a faint pink from within. The lights are RGB based and are purely decorative. Vanguards seem to think that a weapon isn¡¯t truly dangerous unless it glows. ¡°The plasma caster doesn¡¯t glow,¡± I said with a thumb pointing over my shoulder. The projectiles it fires are literally as hot as the surface of your local sun. Please trust me when I say that it does, indeed, glow. ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said. ¡°Does this thing fire anything special?¡± It fires sabot-rounds. The rate of fire is rather low, but the rounds can be equipped with all sorts of interesting and dangerous heads. I suspect you¡¯ll enjoy them. I grinned wide. ¡°We¡¯ll have to see. Let¡¯s get some ammo for these guys and we¡¯ll be off.¡± I got to work and tore one of the Lancejets from the hydra mount, the one that didn¡¯t look like it had been dropped in a blender. Then I picked a few magazines for it and slotted them in my auto-loader¡¯s harness. The gun itself went in the sheath that I¡¯d been using for that plain old gun I¡¯d gotten from the PMC. ¡°Are you done?¡± Gomorroah asked as she watched me toss my invisibility coat on. ¡°Yeah, I guess I am,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, got some meds I can take to heal me up while we¡¯re on-route?¡± Yes. But I suspect a few hours--or perhaps a day--of rest would do your body a lot of good. It has been through a lot. ¡°We¡¯ll see what we can do once we¡¯re out of this spot.¡± *** Chapter Seventy-Two - In Service to the Prevention of Stupidity

Chapter Seventy-Two - In Service to the Prevention of Stupidity ¡°There¡¯s this tendency for people to act a certain way in different situations. A person will act in a certain fashion around friends, in a different way with co-workers, and in an entirely different way with customers or their employer. The amount of respect and submissiveness most people show to Samurai though, is sometimes quite impressive. I suppose it goes to show that someone that can light you on fire with little difficulty and no consequences deserves some amount of respect, at least in appearance. That doesn¡¯t mean that people actually think how they act.¡± --Quote from a discussion on the Void Fight forums, 2031 *** I walked next to Gomorrah, Whisper in hand and tail swaying contentedly with every step. That last was growing to be really annoying, but I¡¯d wasted enough of our time already that I didn¡¯t want to lose any more with telling Myalis to turn that off. We crossed another bridge, this one at a slight jog because I didn¡¯t feel like being caught out in the open again, but there were no huge-ass flying aliens out to get us this time. And then, just like that, we were on the same block as the hospital. ¡°I can see something,¡± I said as I shifted over to the side of the corridor we were walking down and looked to the street below. Through the maze of passages and the faint haze of rain, I could just make out a dozen trucks parked across the street with maybe half that number of armoured transports set between them. There were civilians moving around there, easy to make out thanks to their colourful clothes, and soldiers in much more drab colours. I couldn¡¯t tell how many were moving about, but it was more than the one squad I¡¯d had with me. It seemed as if they were shifting people around from one vehicle to another already while also setting up a barricade with their trucks and their mounted roof-weapons. ¡°We need to get down there,¡± I said. ¡°You don¡¯t trust them to figure things out?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Oh, they¡¯ll do a much better job than I would,¡± I said. ¡°No doubt about that. I¡¯m just worried they might follow some asanine protocol and leave some people behind or do something else equally stupid. I figure being there with a big gun will keep everyone nice and honest.¡± Gomorrah sighed. ¡°That¡¯s... probably more true than I¡¯d want to admit. We should get down.¡± We left the windowed corridor and headed deeper into the building. It wasn¡¯t too hard to find a way to the next building, then the next. Myalis, and Gomorrah¡¯s own AI, both had maps of the interior of the buildings and most of the locks we came across were either electronic, which were laughably poor at stopping Myalis, or they were big clunky things that Gomorah seemed to enjoy melting. I could really get used to the ¡®I¡¯m a Samurai and I want to pass¡¯ mentality on physical and not-so-physical barriers. On arriving at the ground floor at last, we stepped out and into the rainy afternoon. The sun was more or less directly overhead, and whenever it peeked out from behind the layer of clouds above it would bathe the world in an eerie yellow. Gomorrah and I stared across the street, hoods and habits up to cover against the rain. The roads were pretty much deserted until the line of PMC trucks started. ¡°Halt!¡± someone called out. A head poked from over the hood of one of the trucks. His face was covered in the boxy helmet that all the soldiers were wearing, and he was carrying an assault rifle of some sort. Not one of those who had been with me then. ¡°Identify yourselves!¡± he screamed. I looked over to Gomorrah, then down to the two bots by my feet, and finally back up to the nervous kid. ¡°We¡¯re Samurai,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m Stray Cat, this is Gomorrah.¡± ¡°I need proof! You could be Model Sevens again.¡± ¡°Again? I¡¯ve never been one before. And Model Sevens don¡¯t try to talk people out of doing stupid shit.¡± The soldier, who sounded way too young for the job, was cut off when the familiar form of Speedy ran over. ¡°It¡¯s Stray Cat and the fire nun! They¡¯re clear, they¡¯re clear!¡± she screamed. I noticed for the first time that the kid ahead of us wasn¡¯t the only soldier around, there were maybe three or four more tucked away in shadowy alcoves and behind the cover provided by their trucks. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Good to have you back, ma¡¯am,¡± Speedy said. ¡°Hey Speedy,¡± I replied as I started forwards again. ¡°Problems?¡± She nodded. ¡°Plenty. Bunch of civilians are whining about being boxed up in tight spaces smelling each others¡¯ farts, the colonel they sent over with this bunch is the rule-book-up-ass sort, and we had a wave of zombies rush us on the other side.¡± She gestured across from all the hub-bub of all the parked vehicles. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. ¡°Is that all?¡± ¡°Nah. But the rest is kinda boring. We should be moving out already but the colonel insisted that we get everyone¡¯s names now before we got to the FOB and they get misplaced.¡± I blinked. ¡°Are you fucking serious?¡± I asked. That sounded like a colossal waste of time. She nodded. ¡°Yup. We¡¯re also reorganizing things so that each truck has an equal number of people in them. Less trucks that way. Some got dinged up on the route here.¡± ¡°Dammit all,¡± I said. ¡°Bring me to this colonel guy. We should be ready to move by now.¡± ¡°Not gonna hit the other shelters along the way?¡± Speedy asked. There wasn¡¯t any accusation in the words, just a straight question. I hesitated a bit. Those had been in the green zone earlier. Now the orange zone had moved down, so they were probably just on the edge of being at risk. But I also had to keep in mind that there were two thousand people jammed into trucks here with no way to know what was going on. ¡°No,¡± I decided. ¡°We¡¯ll get all of these people to the FOB, then maybe mount a rescue for the others. It¡¯ll be harder to get to them that way, but it won¡¯t put all of this bunch at risk.¡± ¡°Cool,¡± Speedy said. ¡°I¡¯ll bring you to the new boss man. Monroe¡¯s being all stoic and shit but you can tell he¡¯s this close to popping the colonel¡¯s head off.¡± She pinched her fingers together an inch apart. I snorted. ¡°We¡¯ll see what I can do.¡± ¡°Cat,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I¡¯m not one for talking things through. I¡¯ll be around still, but I want to patrol the edges of the barricades.¡± I nodded. ¡°Alright. Will you be heading back with us?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± she said. ¡°With this many people... I wouldn¡¯t trust them all to you alone.¡± I snorted and waved her off. ¡°Have fun. Make some points and so on.¡± She nodded and walked off with a straight-back stride and her hands tucked in their opposite¡¯s sleeve. I watched her go for a bit before turning back to Speedy. Speedy who was staring at my backside. ¡°Enjoying the view?¡± I asked wryly. She barked a laugh and shook her head. ¡°You have a tail now,¡± she pointed out. ¡°That¡¯ll make sitting down interesting.¡± I glared at her, but it was Myalis who deserved the wrath. ¡°It¡¯s new,¡± I said. ¡°So, want to bring me to this colonel of yours?¡± ¡°Urgh, he¡¯s not mine. Snooty little paperpusher like him. The opposite of attractive,¡± Speedy said as she started off. ¡°The kind of guy my mom would love. Probably has retirement savings instead of planning on going out in a blaze of glory and unpaid healthcare bills like a normal person.¡± I kept a lid on my grin as we walked into the crowd of civvies milling about and being directed into lines by harried looking soldiers. We got a surprisingly nice berth, either because of Speedy¡¯s uniform or because people recognized me in passing. Dumbass the First and the other remaining Dumbass flanked me. Speedy brought us past the mess with the trucks and to a sort of temporary base set up in the middle of the intersection. There were two transport vehicles. Low-slung things that opened at the back to reveal twin rows of seats that were being filled by the staff of the hospital. A row of armoured cars created a barrier on the other side, while in the middle of it all sat a huge six-wheeled monstrosity of a vehicle and a single light tank with its barrel pointing off down the road. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. I hadn¡¯t expected them to roll out with quite that much firepower, especially not for what was meant to be an otherwise simple pickup as far as I could tell. Maybe it was a good thing, seeing as how I¡¯d turned the simple pick-up into something a bit more complex. ¡°I know, right?¡± Speedy said. ¡°C¡¯mon, the big boss guy is in the mobile base.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. Chapter Seventy-Three - Forms Chapter Seventy-Three - Forms ¡°The average age that Samurai become Samurai has shifted over time, but it still more or less rests in the 16-19 age bracket. That means that there are some who become Samurai at a younger age. William Clarke is the youngest reported Samurai, at age 13, 3 months and a few days. There are some Samurai who are still beholden by contract to attend private schools, or who still live with their parents. The legality of those situations aside, it basically means that some Samurai chose to continue living their lives fairly normally. This is, to some, a strange choice to make. But it is a choice enforced by some of the older Samurai, who were also children once. It¡¯s the kind of choice where, were a normal person to refusing it, would lead to predictably dire consequences. It goes without saying that people who bully Samurai children are soon unable to do so.¡± --Excerpt from Bill Ludlum¡¯s, ¡°The Samurai and the Family Unit,¡± 2038 *** I slowed down as I approached the mobile base. Not because I was nervous or anything--being able to summon explosives by uttering two syllables did wonders for a girl¡¯s self-esteem--but because the damned thing was fucking enourmous. The wheels, all six of them, were taller than I was and about as wide as I could spread both arms, all that around a frame that had enough room under it that I could have walked under just by ducking my head a little. A ramp was lowered off to the side so that people could climb in and out of the vehicle. Craning my neck back allowed me to take in the two gun emplacements on the side I was facing, both smaller arms like those atop the trucks. A larger one was set in a turret on the roof next to a bristling set of antennae and dishes. ¡°Cool,¡± I said again. The soldiers by the entrance stiffened when Speedy and I got close. ¡°She¡¯s alright,¡± Speedy said. ¡°We¡¯re here for Burke.¡± One of the soldiers, the one with the fancier symbol stitched over his chest, shifted a little. ¡°Is this the Samurai?¡± he asked while still facing Speedy head-on. I had the impression that he was almost afraid to meet my eyes instead of being a dismissive asshole. ¡°Yeah,¡± Speedy said. ¡°This is Stray Cat?¡± She turned my way, the tilt of her head hinting at a question. ¡°That¡¯s what they call me,¡± I replied with a shrug. I was alright with the name. Lucy would get a kick out of it when I saw her. I wiped my meat hand over my lips as I buried the pang of longing I felt at the thought of Lucy and the kittens. The soldiers got out of our way in a hurry and I picked up Dumbass the First and carried it close while I climbed up and into the mobile base. The other Dumbass could stay outside and freak out the soldiers for a bit. The inside of the base was tight, with passages that would barely let two people move past each other. The walls were lined by lockers, a bit like the inside of the mobile armory I¡¯d been in, but I could see computer stations deeper in with some folks jacked into what was no doubt a movable matrix connection. ¡°Near the top bridge,¡± Speedy said as she pointed to the front. ¡°Top bridge?¡± I asked. ¡°This thing has a pilotting room at the front and a bridge kind of above it? It¡¯s got a weird layout,¡± she explained as we moved towards the front. There were surprisingly few people around, which was probably for the best. The tight corridors reminded me a bit of the inside of a submarine from an old movie. At the front we came to a space with a small ladder leading up a floor. Speedy waved me ahead and I tossed Dumbass up ahead of me before climbing up after it. The bridge, as it turned out, was similar to the tent where I¡¯d met Major Hunt. Tight, with technology that probably cost millions casually stuffed in every possible corner. In the middle of the room was a wire-thin man in a uniform that didn¡¯t quite seem to fit right, he was looking at a blank table before him as if it was the most captivating thing ever. Want me to slip into the base¡¯s systems? ¡°Sure,¡± I muttered. My vision shifted a moment later and things began to appear. The table skinny was staring at had a three-dimensional representation of the block we were on, with a slow tide of orange slowly leaking across the other nearby streets towards us. ¡°Sir?¡± Speedy asked as she made it to the top of the ladder. The man blinked, looked up, then jumped. ¡°Oh, oh yes. Um, you¡¯re dismissed private.¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Speedy gave him a half-hearted salute. ¡°See you round, kitty cat,¡± she said before dipping down and out of sight. The man¡¯s face blanched and he bowed at the waist. ¡°Please forgive my subordinate¡¯s indiscretion. She will be reprimanded for it and her pay will be docked.¡± ¡°Uh,¡± I said intelligently. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s okay? She¡¯s cool. Helped a bunch with squad... fifty one?¡± He nodded, a motion so violent that it was almost another bow. ¡°Yes, very well then, as you wish.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°You wanted to see me?¡± ¡°Indeed. I¡¯m Colonel Burke. Cleanse, Fourth Division and... and none of that really matters,¡± he said. ¡°Now that you¡¯re here, I was hoping to ask you a small favour on behalf of the corporation?¡± ¡°Shoot,¡± I said. It was probably the first time a corporation asked me a favour, if I didn¡¯t count random terms of service politely asking for my soul as favours. ¡°We have a lot of civilians to process. Procedure is that we do it all on-site at the first convenient moment, which happened to be here and now, even though the area will soon be an orange zone.¡± ¡°That sounds monumentally stupid,¡± I pointed out. He wiggled his hands around. ¡°It¡¯s procedure,¡± he said as if that explained everything. ¡°And you need to do it?¡± ¡°If we don¡¯t obtain proper identification of the civilians, and proof of danger, then we can¡¯t invoice them for services rendered,¡± he explained. I blinked. Of course they were going to charge each one individually. They had to make enough to afford their giant mobile bases and tanks somehow. ¡°And if I tell you that we don¡¯t have time for that.¡± ¡°Protocol trumps nearly everything. The exceptions are demands from certain VIPs and, of course, a strongly worded... suggestion from an active Samurai in the field. Especially if that suggestion comes with a warning.¡± I think he¡¯s trying to encourage you to threaten him. ¡°I got that,¡± I muttered. ¡°Well, Colonel Burke, your protocol is cute and all, but we need to go. Now.¡± ¡°Is there any clear and present danger, ma¡¯am?¡± he asked. He was smiling now, like someone in on the joke. I decided not to say that it would annoy me if they didn¡¯t move, that was a bit petty, even for me. ¡°I plan on filling the area with anti-alien traps. Your men can help me with that. Which means the convoy needs to get moving. You can tell the civilians to email you in a week or two in order to get their invoices or whatever.¡± Burke rubbed at his chin. ¡°That does sound like it might be something that would harm Cleanze materials and personnel. I think I will have no choice but to order the immediate repacking and movement of the convoy.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re a sneaky one, huh?¡± He grinned at me. ¡°I¡¯ve filled my share of forms.¡± ¡°Is there a form you can fill out to say that the squad that was with me did a good job?¡± I asked. Burke looked taken aback for a moment. ¡°There is, yes.¡± ¡°Good,¡± I said. ¡°They went out of their way to help, especially Monroe and Speedy. I¡¯d give them some toys but I bet there are protocols for that too.¡± He nodded along. ¡°I¡¯ll make note of it. Thank you, Samurai.¡± I gave him a salute that made Speedy¡¯s look downright textbook. ¡°I¡¯m going to go kill a few more xenos. Can you try to get everyone moving fast-like?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll do our best,¡± he said. I hopped out of the bridge area feeling rather content with the meeting. Burke did seem like he had a stick up his ass about protocols, but he also knew what they were worth in the end. I got out of the mobile base with Dumbass by my side, then took a moment to look around and try to find out what to do next. ¡°Hey, any of you two see Gomorrah?¡± I asked the soldiers on guard duty. ¡°Um, ma¡¯am?¡± one of them asked. ¡°What¡¯s Gomorrah?¡± I gestured at about headheight. ¡°Yay tall, stick up ass, looks like a nun. Likes fire... a lot.¡± ¡°You mean the other Samurai? She¡¯s by the west flank ma¡¯am.¡± I stared for a few long seconds until he lifted a hand and rather sheepishly pointed off to the left. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. Returning to Gomorrah? ¡°Yeah,¡± I said after I was a little ways away. ¡°I bet she¡¯s found something to burn while she was out, which means there might also be something to shoot. I might find Monroe too and give him a buttload of explosives to mine the road with, make true on what I said.¡± It was time, I figured, to start heading back. To the green zone, to safety, and maybe to my friends. *** Chapter Seventy-Four - Thoughts and Prayers Chapter Seventy-Four - Thoughts and Prayers ¡°The generation born between 2000 and 2010 are often called the ¡®lost generation¡¯ by some modern historians. Born at a time where the unchecked growth of corporate entities began to spiral out of control, and hit by three massive recessions and two global pandemics--not to mention the first Antithesis incursions--by 2025, the entire generation can be said to have lost the opportunities that those who came before had. How strange it is, then, that they slipped so easily into the shoes of their predecessors.¡± --Excerpt from ¡°The Lost Generation: the 2000s to now.¡± by an anonymous writer, 2047 *** I found Gomorrah in an unexpected position. She was off to one side of the front line, sitting in the passenger seat of one of the PMC¡¯s little humvee. She had her hands clasped together and her head turned down, lips moving silently to say something that I couldn¡¯t hope to catch as I approached. Religion had never been my thing, so I didn¡¯t know if it was cool to just... barge in and interrupt or something. Usually I wouldn¡¯t have given a damn, but Gomorrah was pretty chill and she also had flamethrowers which was always a good argument for leaving someone be. A look around revealed a bunch of nothing. The Cleanze soldiers had set up a barricade of sorts with their carts, guns pointed out along the street, but as far as I could tell there weren¡¯t any aliens on us yet. We probably had a few minutes before the bigger part of the hoard came around looking for something to snack on. ¡°I can hear you breathing,¡± Gomorrah said. I reached up and touched my mask. Did the little exhaling tab on it make noise? ¡°You done praying?¡± I asked. She slowly lifted her head and lowered her hands. ¡°Prayer is one of those things where you¡¯re never quite done.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± I said. ¡°Like taxes.¡± ¡°You do know that we don¡¯t pay taxes, right?¡± she asked. ¡°Religious exemption?¡± I asked. ¡°No, I meant you and me. We¡¯re Samurai. No taxes. Not even sales taxes. They¡¯re removed automatically.¡± She grabbed onto a handle above the door and used it to swing herself out of the car. ¡°One of the many little advantages to being Vanguards.¡± ¡°Neat,¡± I said. ¡°I can live with the idea that I don¡¯t need to pay those. Do we need to fill out income tax returns too?¡± Gomorrah tilted her head a bit and I had the impression she was thinking. ¡°You know, I have no idea.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Well, whatever. So, uh, prayer, huh?¡± ¡°What of it?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Dunno, just, not really familiar with religious stuff is all. Don¡¯t really see the point to it.¡± Gomorrah paused in the act of straightening out her habit. ¡°It¡¯s... there¡¯s a lot of pageantry, and some of that is useless. There are lots of things that I think are kind of dumb too, and sometimes the rules are a bit nonsensical, or don¡¯t really apply anymore, but I always saw all that as, you know, the natural consequences of an organization being old.¡± ¡°So why do anything about it?¡± I asked. It wasn¡¯t the most interesting line of questioning, but there wasn¡¯t anything better to do, unless I wanted to get involved with pushing people into trucks and I figured my presence there would just slow things down. Gomorrah leaned back against the car. ¡°It¡¯s about hope, really.¡± ¡°Hope?¡± I asked. She nodded. ¡°How did you think your future would play out? Before you became a saint. I mean, a Samurai.¡± ¡°Uh. I don¡¯t know, really. I¡¯m turning eighteen in a couple of days. Lucy, that¡¯s my best friend, she¡¯s a bit older than me. We were planning on leaving together, then we¡¯d... figure it out, I guess.¡± Gomorrah let out a long breath. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound that concrete. Honestly, the chances we... normal people have? They¡¯re kind of crap. You ever hear people from a hundred years ago talk about the future? They were optimistic. Now, you can¡¯t decide if some natural disaster sparked by a corp will wipe you out, or if it¡¯ll be some crippling debt that will get to you. God forbid you hurt yourself badly enough to need healing. And then there are the aliens. The future¡¯s not bright, Cat.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. It was the kind of thing I didn¡¯t dwell on much. I¡¯d heard stories of the other kids who left the orphanage. They weren¡¯t all that nice. Those who had better lives were the ones that swore their life and loyalty to a government or corporation. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°So hope,¡± Gomorrah said, ¡°Because I¡¯d like to think that maybe there¡¯s a chance that things will be nice in the future, but I don¡¯t trust that it¡¯ll come from human hands.¡± I pulled my mask off. It was a bad habit, but I didn¡¯t like having things on my face, the skin over my burns was always sensitive to rubbing. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can think that way. I figure things have to work out, some of the time.¡± Gomorrah sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Life isn¡¯t weighted in favour of normal people. If you¡¯re lucky enough to start off well, then maybe life is still not too bad. But we can¡¯t all be born with a silver spoon.¡± I shook my head. ¡°Nah, but that doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t work hard.¡± She looked my way for a long time. ¡°Usually, it¡¯s the religious one that gets called naive,¡± she said. ¡°I didn¡¯t imagine that from you.¡± I glared over at her, but not with any real heat to it. ¡°I¡¯m not a paragon of optimism, but I am a bed half full kind of girl.¡± ¡°A what?¡± Gormorrah asked. ¡°Life¡¯s shit, trust me, I get that, but I feel that you need to fight for shit to be fair.¡± The nun shook her head. ¡°I... don¡¯t entirely disagree, especially now that we have the tools to actually be able to fight, but I don¡¯t think you¡¯re seeing the full picture. You can take any corp to court if they do something to harm you, but you¡¯ll probably lose. You can point a finger to the people in charge and say that they¡¯re corrupt and evil, but the laws were made by them, and don¡¯t apply to them.¡± ¡°Then just punch their teeth in.¡± Gomorrah didn¡¯t say anything for a while, then her shoulders started to shake and I heard a faint giggle coming from behind her mask. ¡°I hope you keep that attitude up,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯ll get you killed, but maybe you¡¯ll punch some teeth in before you go.¡± ¡°Damn right,¡± I said. ¡°When you¡¯re hungry, you find a rich person to eat.¡± The nun pushed off the car and stretched. ¡°You¡¯re a bit of an idiot,¡± she said. ¡°But I think you have your heart in the right place.¡± ¡°You mean I still have a heart. Myalis is probably plotting ways for me to replace it with some high-tech pump.¡± Gomorrah laughed again. ¡°Ah, my AI is the same. He keeps insisting that I need to replace my skin with something a little more flameproof. Which, while that would be nice, it would also turn me a little bit blue, and my skin would then be lethal to anything eating me.¡± ¡°You planning on getting eaten?¡± I asked while turning my voice a little sultry. The nun spun away from me. I¡¯d bet my last handful of credit that she was blushing under that mask. ¡°I take it back. Your heart is dark as pitch.¡± I was about to mention how other parts of me were far more fun anyway, when we were interrupted by someone jogging over to us. It didn¡¯t take much for me to recognize Monroe. ¡°Ma¡¯ams,¡± he said before snapping off a salute. ¡°We have a bit of an issue. I was hoping I could request your assistance.¡± ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I asked. ¡°We think the hive¡¯s changing tactics.¡± Gomorrah said something that wasn¡¯t very Christian and shifted. I... had no idea what he was on about. Fortunately, Myalis did. An Antithesis hive will give birth to new models as time goes on, usually taking some time to produce stronger and more lethal but also more time-consuming to grow models. This is a normal progression. That normal progression is sometimes not suited to combat in any given environment. That means that the hive can stop producing models that are ineffective and focus on those that work. ¡°What¡¯s the change?¡± I asked. ¡°We have reports from teams all across the incursion border. The orange zones have shifted back, but the ground models have been replaced by fliers. Lots of them.¡± ¡°What, they¡¯re trying to swarm people?¡± I asked. Monroe shook his head. ¡°They¡¯re seeing more Model Twos and Ones. Some Nines as well. We think they¡¯re looking for resistance first instead of scavenging as they go.¡± I frowned, then started paying attention to the noises in the background. The muttering and talking of a thousand-off annoyed people was still audible, but I could now make out the thumping of AA guns in the distance. AA guns that we didn¡¯t have here. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°We need to get moving faster, and we need to set up some sort of deterrent. Fuck mining the streets, we¡¯ve got a new priority.¡± *** Chapter Seventy-Five - A Flock of Trouble Chapter Seventy-Five - A Flock of Trouble ¡°PTSD, or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, is a mental condition triggered by a terrible event, causing flashbacks, nightmares and severe anxiety. It was common amongst soldiers throughout history, but has impacted even civilians who have gone through traumatizing events. With the first incursion, the precedent for PTSD has risen to an all time high. Which is why you should always carry some Spauitive! Recommended by 9 out of 10 psychologists to instantly cure* any signs of PTSD, both as diagnosed by a medical professional, and at home!* Get your Spauitive today delivered right to your doorstep with a 20% discount* by entering the promo-code: Depression!¡± --An ad for ¡®Spauitive!¡¯ a highly concentrated psychadellic and opioid, 2050 *** ¡°Take these!¡± I called out as I swung my arm around. Myalis, who was obviously fond of dramatics, made five turrets appear under my hand in time with the sweeping motion. Each one was bundled up with some ammunition and guns already, though they would still take some time to set up. Monroe, who by virtue of knowing me had been promoted from Sergeant to... still Sergeant but more in charge, pointed to teams of two and sent them off to different trucks. The soldiers had painted big numbers on the sides of each vehicle, and had replaced our volunteer drivers with some of their own already. Five groups left towards five trucks, the last ones to be fitted with gun emplacements. ¡°Think it¡¯ll be enough?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s ten minutes from here to the FOB,¡± Monroe said. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of ground to cover while under attack, so every additional gun will be worth its weight in credits.¡± ¡°Yeah, fair,¡± I said. The soldiers had a pair of ladders which they were using to rush onto the roofs of some of the trailers, while others just climbed from the truck¡¯s bumper into its hood, then jumped onto the top of their trailers from there. Daring, but it worked. ¡°Sir! Ma¡¯am!¡± one young soldier said as he ran over. ¡°We have people moving our way. Contacts, about one hundred in all.¡± ¡°Where?¡± I asked. I was pointed off towards one road, the one I knew Gomorrah wasn¡¯t guarding. ¡°That way, ma¡¯am.¡± Monroe and I took off jogging through the drizzle, heading right towards the blockade that was even now coming apart as everything was packed away with military efficiency. That efficiency had paused as every soldier in the area was reaching for their arms and sighting down the road. I hopped up the low-slung fender of one of the Cleanze cars then glared out ahead at the crowd approaching us. At first glance, they were just a few dozen people in wet, bedraggled clothes. Normal folk of all ages shuffling together as if sticking together would grant them any sort of protection. It was only on looking carefully at the way most of them were walking with a bit of a stutter that things got really weird. Far too many of them wore bloody clothes or looked like they¡¯d tried to tear off their outfits. ¡°Shit,¡± I said. ¡°Dumbass! Get into scanning range.¡± If my little drone could check them out and confirm my suspicions then... then there was no risking any of the soldiers to do the same. The drone bobbed up and down, then shot ahead with a faint tapping of its little legs on asphalt. I pulled Whisper off my shoulder as I watched Dumbass skitter along. The moment the drone had crossed the first hundred or so meters and was within spitting range of the people at the front of the group, a few of them detached themselves from the bunch and started running at the drone. I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have any good news. Dumbass One was unable to make a full scan at that range, at least not one that is stable and clean, but even what was taken is enough to find traces of Antithesis nerve-grafting. ¡°Model Sevens?¡± I asked. Someone heard me, one of the soldiers nearby. ¡°Model Sevens!¡± he called out. Any attempt to tell them to give me a minute was nixed when half the soldiers opened fire. Hitting a moving target at a hundred meters was tricky, but with thirty or so people emptying full auto on a group of a hundred... I winced as bodies crumpled left and right. Those that started sprinting towards us were only focused on harder. Within a few seconds there were only bodies left on the road. But behind us, the civilians still being guided into trucks didn¡¯t take kindly to the gunfire. They screamed until the soldiers guiding them in yelled even louder to get them in. Stolen novel; please report. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. ¡°Monroe, we don¡¯t have time for this, can you speed things up?¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am!¡± he called. Dumbass skittered back to my side, looking no worse for wear, if a bit bloody from its little adventure. ¡°Come on, little guy,¡± I said as I hopped down. I moved towards the people, the Model Sevens, and tried to keep my lunch down as I stared at all the corpses. ¡°Myalis, I need something to burn this off.¡± Understood. I returned to the convoy after placing a Resonator on the ground behind me, one tuned for human flesh. I found Monroe waiting for me when I returned, along with Gomorrah. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯re ready to head out. Are you riding with us or...?¡± ¡°I guess so,¡± I said. ¡°What about you?¡± I asked Gomorrah. ¡°I¡¯m going to ride with the mobile base. It offers a good platform to attack from.¡± I imagined the nun riding atop one of the flat-topped semi-trailers, then nodded. The mobile base at least had a sort of... almost balcony above it. Probably had roof access... and a bathroom. Damned fancy vehicle. ¡°I¡¯ll go with you then,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe we can make it go last to cover our rear.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll tell the colonel,¡± Monroe said before bolting off. The convoy looked ready to go. Trucks packed, armoured cars moving about into position and the tank I¡¯d seen earlier roaring ahead of the pack to take the lead. ¡°Come on,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I think at this point we¡¯re the ones stalling the rest.¡± A glance around showed that we were just about the only ones not in a vehicle or another. ¡°Yeah, alright,¡± I said. We were greeted at the mobile base by a still-impeccable Colonel Burke. ¡°Lady Samurai,¡± he greeted us as soon as we were on board. ¡°I take it you¡¯re ready to go?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of this place.¡± The man nodded then turned to one of his adjuncts who seemed to be waiting for him. ¡°Give the signal, we¡¯re moving back.¡± There was a snap of ¡®yessir,¡¯ and a moment later the entire mobile base rocked as it got into gear and started to move along with the pondering slowness of something that weighed as much as the average house. ¡°We¡¯ll be on the roof,¡± Gomorrah said as she moved towards the back. I shrugged, waved Burke off, and followed. By the time we made it to the roof of the base the entire convoy was moving, which is to say, it was crawling along at a snail¡¯s pace. The roads were covered in too many wrecks to get any good speed, and with so many choke points, trucks had to slip by in single file. Sometimes that required that they maneuver around tight corners, stopping to realign halfway through while all the rest waited. The smaller armoured cars didn¡¯t have that problem, but they couldn¡¯t just rush ahead. Still, the PMCs seemed to have their shit together. They never let the convoy spread out too much and had cars waiting at intersections in case a flood of aliens spawned out of thin air. This endeavor of yours is working out surprisingly well. I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re making as many points as you would have had you merely kept fighting, but you are definitely saving more lives this way. ¡°Maybe,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re still leaving a lot of people behind.¡± Gomorrah looked my way for a bit, but she didn¡¯t seem to have anything to add to my apparently one-sided conversation. Points aren¡¯t everything. They are a means to an end, and that end is often ensuring the survival of as many as you can. I nodded before leaning against the side of a post with a sort of antenna sticking out of it. I was... tired. The day had been a long one even if it was still just mid-afternoon. I could probably keep going, but it was only going to work thanks to an over abundance of adrenaline and some self-asskicking. I wanted to be back with my friends, with the kittens and Lucy. Was I selfish? ¡°Cat!¡± I tore myself away from my own contemplations and looked over to Gomorrah. She was pointing to the sky. A sky darkened by flitting black forms. My new eye zoomed in on the mass slowing around the tops of the nearest buildings like a smog bank and made out hundreds, maybe thousands of pitch-black birds. ¡°Model Ones?¡± I asked. ¡°More than that,¡± the nun added. ¡°They¡¯re heading this way too.¡± I picked up my gun with a sigh. ¡°Well, more points for us, then.¡± Chapter Seventy-Six - The Big Players Chapter Seventy-Six - The Big Players ¡°Younger Samurai, and by that, we mean those who turned into Samurai recently (it has nothing to do with age!) are generally pretty well protected by the older ones. But they can¡¯t stop us from shipping them!¡± --Deceased anonymous forum user, 2030 *** There were so many flying models out ahead that they were practically a cloud of living flesh, swarming out towards us like grasping vines. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m going to need a bigger flamethrower,¡± Gomorrah said. I nodded, ready to agree with her, when a large flamethrower appeared right next to Gomorrah at just the right height for her to grab onto its twin handles and angle its nozzle up. It was nearly all-black, except for white detailing within and it was festooned in crosses and skulls and small statuettes across its entire surface. ¡°Did... did you put extra points into making it all... gaudy?¡± I asked. ¡°Don¡¯t you have more important things to focus on?¡± she asked. ¡°Not right at this very second, no,¡± I said. I gestured to the swarm approaching us. ¡°We¡¯ve got like a minute before we¡¯re pecked apart. I¡¯m not going to spend it moping.¡± Gomorrah sighed. ¡°You are so unserious.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a word, I¡¯m sure,¡± I said. ¡°You know what I meant,¡± she snapped. ¡°And yes. I did spend an extra point to decorate my flamethrower. So what?¡± ¡°Nothing, nothing. I mean, it¡¯s not my kind of thing, but it looks really pious or whatever. I¡¯m sure Jesus will appreciate you burning things to death more if your flamethrower has the symbol of the thing that killed him on it.¡± ¡°Shut up, Cat,¡± she said. ¡°At least I¡¯m not slowly turning into some sort of heathen animal person. You¡¯re one fur coat away from being a god-damned furry, you know that, right?¡± I slapped a hand over my chest. ¡°That stings, little G.¡± She paused. ¡°How long have you been waiting to call me that?¡± ¡°A bit,¡± I said. I wanted to rib her some more, but time was running short. I wiggled my shoulders and Myalis must have caught on because my new guns deployed from over my shoulder. Dumbass the First installed itself nearby, its plasma rifle twisting around and aiming at the sky. ¡°Ready?¡± I asked as I adjusted my footing and brought Whisper up. I couldn¡¯t even remember what kind of ammo I¡¯d used in it last, but I was sure it wasn¡¯t pleasant for anything it hit. Gomorrah shifted her robes with one hand and let her leg poke out of them so that she could place her foot on the railing and hold her new flamethrower up towards the sky. I snorted. ¡°Trying to distract them with a bit of thigh?¡± I asked. She did have nice legs. ¡°It¡¯s working for me.¡± ¡°Shush you,¡± she said. ¡°And yes, I¡¯m ready.¡± ¡°Whenever you want to start,¡± I said. We were still rolling along, the mobile base rumbling beneath as it slowly navigated around wrecked cars and abandoned trucks at a speed that most mobility scooters could outpace. There was going to be no outrunning the swarm. The base¡¯s main gun turned around and aimed up, as did the machine guns sticking out of its sides. ¡°Myalis, get ready to spend a lot of points on stuff to clear the air,¡± I said. A big enough bomb might be able to do it, I figured. It wouldn¡¯t be pretty, but if it worked then it was worth it. Certainly. The Model Ones flocked closer. I really wished they¡¯d make more noise than the flap of their wings, it felt as if there were some sound-effects missing as the swarm scattered, then started to swoop down towards us. Gomorrah and I both tensed. My finger started to pull back on the trigger. The sky filled with actinic arcs of jittering energy. I squeezed my flesh and blood eye shut, but my cybernetic one was enough to capture the sparks darting from bird to bird, each flash leaving an imprint of their bones through their skin before the Model Ones were peeled out of the sky like so much snow. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Alien bodies rained down onto the street with a thudding pitter-patter like heavy hail, some of them crashing through windows, others bursting apart against the road. Only a few of them, with wings locked in place, managed to swoop as far as the mobile base to crash against its side and roof. ¡°What the--¡± I began. A form blew past above us, a person with a pair of mechanical wings carrying a gun as long as I was tall that sparked with electrical discharges. They looked our way, face hidden by a bird-shaped visor, then flew on. I was about to start swearing when I heard a low hum from behind and turned to see a second flier approaching our position. Deus Ex landed atop the mobile base¡¯s main gun with a heavy clunk, her twin engines hovering by her side and her face entirely covered by her mask. ¡°Heard you got a name,¡± she said. I paused for a moment, then refocused. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°Yeah, I did.¡± I flicked a thumb over my shoulder. ¡°You know the idiot that did that?¡± She nodded. ¡°I do. We¡¯re running clean-up in the area now. The way should be clear from here to the edge of the green zone. Good work out there, by the way. That¡¯s a lot of civvies.¡± ¡°So, what, you¡¯ll just... take over?¡± I asked. I didn¡¯t know why I felt so disappointed, or betrayed for that matter. ¡°Pretty much. Can¡¯t let the small fry die because they bit off more than they can chew,¡± she said. ¡°Plus you¡¯ve been out for what, five hours? Six? Go take a break. In a couple of hours it¡¯ll all be over.¡± She glanced past me and to the road we were leaving behind. ¡°On that note, I¡¯m off. I¡¯ll give you a call tomorrow.¡± She bunched her legs up under her and jumped into the air with her entire rig pulling her up and away. I lowered Whisper by my side and looked over the field of dead Model Ones. A minute ago I¡¯d been wondering if I could take them all on, and now they were dead. It felt as if someone had just yanked me around and shown me the chasm between me and the other Samurai out there. ¡°Damnation,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I got this thing for nothing.¡± She wiggled her flamethrower about. I sighed. ¡°You can probably make toast with it or something,¡± I said. My guns retracted and I slung Whisper over a shoulder before looking out ahead of us. We were getting closer to the front meter by meter. At that rate, we¡¯d be there in a few more minutes. ¡°You think we¡¯re done?¡± I asked. Gomorrah nodded. ¡°For this incursion? Probably. I don¡¯t know how much time you¡¯ve spent with other Samurai, but they tend to treat new ones like, well, they treat us like children. It gets better relatively quickly though. I think it¡¯s more about how well you can pull your weight.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± I said. That made a sort of sense. We¡¯d done a lot today, Gomorrah and I, but I was willing to bet that an older, or rather a more experienced Samurai, could do a lot more a whole lot more efficiently. ¡°Home,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Home,¡± I replied. ¡°Not... I don¡¯t think I have a home, exactly.¡± ¡°You mentioned someone close to you, no?¡± she asked. I nodded along. ¡°Yeah. I guess wherever she is, that¡¯s home. I¡¯m pretty sure Myalis can track her down for me.¡± That would be as easy as... done. My mood lightened a bit at that, so I found a spot to sit on the railings running around the roof and enjoyed the bumpy ride. It had been a hard day¡¯s work, but one capped by some success. More success than failure. And in the end, I¡¯d get to see Lucy and the kittens again. That meant all sorts of new problems, but I doubted they¡¯d be as challenging as facing an alien invasion while poorly prepared. *** Chapter Seventy-Seven - Anticlimax Chapter Seventy-Seven - Anticlimax We crossed the barricaded street and moved through a crowd of wide-eyed idiots who didn¡¯t seem to understand the concept of not standing right next to the incursion zone. It was probably not that big a deal, but I imagined one of those bigger flying bastards showing up. There would probably be more deaths to trampling than anything the xeno could do. The mobile base came to a rolling stop next to the temporary forward base I¡¯d visited just a few hours ago. Hours that felt like weeks. ¡°Where will you be going now?¡± Gomorrah asked. I looked over at the nun. ¡°I... I think I¡¯m going to go check on my family,¡± I said. ¡°They were caught in the middle of all that and...¡± She nodded. ¡°That¡¯s fine. You go see if they¡¯re safe. I think I¡¯m going to stick to the edges for a while. I doubt there will be much work for me to do, but I¡¯ll be around if I¡¯m needed.¡± ¡°Cool,¡± I said. ¡°Keep in touch?¡± I asked before extending a closed fist towards her. She bumped it after a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡°Likewise.¡± I grinned at her before stepping off the side of the mobile base. Or at least, over the railing, then down along one of the sloped sides and onto one of the tires. The drop from there was a bit lower and a whole lot more manageable. The two Dumbasses clattered along after me with robot-cat-like grace. It earned me a few looks, but the pervasive ¡®don¡¯t fuck with a Samurai¡¯ field kept people off my back. ¡°You got the kitten¡¯s address?¡± I asked. I do. The rooms they¡¯re in have cameras. I can confirm that they¡¯re in good health and somewhat safe. ¡°Somewhat?¡± I asked. They¡¯re within five kilometers of the edge of an incursion. That was... a fair point. I was going to comment on it when I saw a familiar soldier moving by. ¡°Monroe!¡± I called out. The man stopped and turned my way. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± he asked. ¡°Hey, you think I can borrow a car?¡± I asked. ¡°And, uh, someone to drive it?¡± ¡°Are you returning into the incursion zone?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that, per corporate regulations, our squadron won¡¯t be able to return for another few hours, but I can find another to accompany you.¡± ¡°Nah,¡± I said. ¡°I just need someone to drive me out into the city. Uh, the part of the city not filled with aliens.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± he said. ¡°One moment then.¡± The soldier turned away while bringing a hand up to the side of his head. I could hear a faint murmur as he spoke at someone, but his helmet insulated me from most of it. ¡°Speedy is free,¡± he said. ¡°You can meet her over by the hovercarpool. That¡¯s just over there. We appropriated a parking garage.¡± ¡°Thanks Monroe,¡± I said. ¡°No problem ma¡¯am. And good work out there. We did good.¡± I gave him a thumb¡¯s up before he went on his way, then I took off in the direction he¡¯d pointed me in. The parking garage was a few floors up, but the power was still on and the elevator I called down cleared up real fast when the people within took a look at me. I was a bit... bloody looking. My pants had a few tears and my hair was a bit wild. I tried to fix myself up using the reflection on the inside of the stainless steel door. When I stepped out of the elevator--having given up on cleaning myself--it was to find Speedy waiting for me leaning against the far wall. ¡°Heya boss,¡± she said before flashing me a gap-toothed grin. The meds I¡¯d given her were supposed to grow her missing teeth back, but that still left her looking like a meth addict for a bit. ¡°Heya Speedy,¡± I said. ¡°I requisitioned one of the faster cars,¡± she said while pointing over her shoulder with a thumb. The ¡®faster car¡¯ turned out to be some sort of muscle car, all squarish and brutal, with armored plates riveted to its sides and a light bar across the roof. It even had additional lights at the front; the super-bright sort that could blind a person in mid-day if they annoyed the driver. Speedy was giggling to herself as she slid into the driver¡¯s seat. I was tempted to maybe call up an Uber instead of riding with her, but the extra effort that would demand--and the charge on my rather pitiful credit account--lead me to folding. ¡°Where to?¡± Speedy asked as she settled into her seat. I started looking for the belts before we took off. ¡°Myalis can give you the address. It¡¯s... some hotel somewhere.¡± ¡°Nice!¡± Speedy said. A moment later one of the screens on the dashboard switched over to a map and Speedy floored it. ¡°So,¡± she said as she ducked us under a lorry. ¡°Heading to your friends?¡± ¡°More like my family,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯ve got kids?¡± she asked. ¡°Nine of them.¡± We almost met a grisly end into the side of a skyscraper as Speedy whipped her head around. ¡°Orphans!¡± I said. ¡°Orphans. Just a big bunch of brats.¡± ¡°Oh, oh that makes more sense,¡± she said. ¡°Just a group of kids you¡¯re keeping safe, eh?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Me and Lucy watch over them.¡± ¡°Ohh,¡± Speedy said, drawing it out long and low. ¡°You and Lucy huh?¡± I grinned. ¡°Yeah. I miss her.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be real... excited when her hero comes back.¡± ¡°I sure hope so,¡± I said. ¡°I could use a bit of relaxing.¡± Speedy lived up to her name, because a minute later, after a dozen harrowingly close calls, we were pulling to a stop before the front lobby of a hotel. Not one of those pod places, but an honest to god high-rise hotel with an entrance lobby filled with marble and statues and art pieces that were probably worth more than what most people made in a lifetime. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. The moment the car stopped a pair of valets ran out of the entrance, neither of them looking terribly happy. ¡°I¡¯m off,¡± I told Speedy as I unbuckled myself. ¡°You have fun Speedy, and try not to run into a building.¡± ¡°See you around, Cat,¡± she said. ¡°And don¡¯t forget to wear protection!¡± I laughed as I stepped out and closed the door behind me. Speedy rolled off just as the valets arrived and a group of security guards showed up by the entrance. It had to be a pretty fancy place if they had their own guards. ¡°This parking is for esteemed customers of the Meri--¡± ¡°Shush,¡± I said as I turned around to the valet who¡¯d started. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a group of kids. Probably called the Kittens?¡± The man straightened. ¡°The privacy of our clients is--¡± I raised a hand. ¡°Myalis, do the thing where you show off that I¡¯m a Samurai.¡± Of course! The valets and the guards all twitched, and just like that, their demeanor changed from pissed off idiots with rods up their asses to hyper-obsequious idiots with rods up their asses. ¡°Just, just bring me to my friends,¡± I asked. One long elevator ride all the way to the top and I arrived at one of the penthouse suites. That Deus Ex had casually tossed around a few million credits to rent the place for a few days was... appreciated. It was a lot of cash to drop on a stranger on a whim. I couldn¡¯t help but be suspicious about it, but there wasn¡¯t much to do right then and there. I knocked on the door leading into the rooms and waited. There was screaming and tussling going on on the other side, the kind that I¡¯d grown quite familiar with. And then the door opened and I looked down to see Junior staring up at me. The teen took me in, from my boots to my messy hair stuffed under my hood. ¡°Shit Cat,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m digging the pissed off action hero look.¡± I sighed. ¡°Heya Junior. Can you get out of my way or will I have to move you?¡± She grinned, then that grin faded a bit. ¡°Your threats aren¡¯t any fun when I know you could carry them out,¡± she said. ¡°Can I get an arm like that? Oh, and you still owe me a knife.¡± I barked a laugh. ¡°Fuck off,¡± I said. She pulled the door open wider to let me in, then, because she was a little shit, she shouted. ¡°Room service!¡± ¡°I swear!¡± came an all too familiar and angelic voice. ¡°When I find out which one of you ordered room service again I¡¯ll...¡± Lucy stepped around a corner and froze up. ¡°Cat!¡± I was rammed backwards by a few dozen kilos of worried Lucy, her arms squishing me tight while her crutches clattered to the floor behind her. ¡°Lucy,¡± I said as I pulled her close and let my head fall atop her head. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re alive,¡± she said. ¡°Why do you sound surprised?¡± I asked. The joke fell short when I saw the tears in her eyes. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s okay?¡± She sniffled, then smiled before climbing onto tip toes and pressing her lips against mine. Her hands crawled up my sides and she let out a surprised little noise when she bumped into my new arm. I melted a little, the stress keeping me rigid dissolving, and when she tugged me back and we stumbled deeper into the penthouse, it was all I could do not to collapse onto the floor with her. ¡°Kids!¡± Lucy said as she pulled away for just a second. ¡°We¡¯re going to be busy for a bit.¡± There was a chorus of ¡®ewws¡¯ from the Kittens. And then a deluge of questions. Where had I been, did I kill lots of aliens? Did I film it? Could they see my guns? What was up with my new eye, and the arm? ¡°Later,¡± I said while counting heads. The twins were there. Nose was on a couch staring at a screen. Daniel was out of his chair and on another couch where he waved. Spark and Tim were... doing something to a toaster and Bargain and Nemo were paused halfway through the act of rolling across the hardwood floor mid-fight. That¡¯s all I had time to see before Lucy yanked me into a bedroom. A nice one, with a four-poster bed, and an attached bathroom and a thick carpet underfoot. My boots came off with a clunk and my invisibility jacket fell off at some point. And then I was sitting on the edge of the bed, Lucy pressing down on me until I fell. ¡°How was your day?¡± she asked rather coyly. ¡°It just got better,¡± I said. She paused, eyeing me down from within a curtain of her long hair. ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± ¡°I... maybe?¡± I said. She smiled. ¡°Give me a minute then. I need to use the washroom, and then we can... talk.¡± I grinned up at her and watched her move off. She was a bit awkward without her crutches, but it was fine. A temporary problem. My head rested back onto the bed and I smiled at the lingering scent of Lucy¡¯s cheap shampoo. Good night, Cat. I didn¡¯t have the energy to ask Myalis what she meant. I was safe. I was as close to home as I could possibly be. My eyes slid shut... *** Stray Cat Strut - Volume Two - A Young Ladys Guide to Exploding the Corporate Ladder

The duty of a Samurai is to the people. Mostly people just like themselves. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. After her long first day as a bomb-flinging, alien-killing Samurai, Catherine Leblanc finds herself tasked with finding a lost girl, one who may be a fellow Samurai, or a link to an entire font of troubles. Cat is in the unenviable position of having to explode her way up the corporate ladder in order to uncover certain nasty little secrets. Chapter One - Heart-Warming

Chapter One - Heart-Warming I shifted. Something poked at my back, just a bit above my ribs. Had Lucy snuck into my bed again? I loved the girl, but sometimes she was all elbows and knees and a real pain to sleep beside. Turning a little, I found myself rolling onto my stumpy side, only to run into a bit of a problem. I had an arm. Or rather, a second arm. Some of the sleep-addled grogginess faded a little and I turned back onto my back and blinked up at an entirely unfamiliar ceiling. There wasn¡¯t any cracked drywall above me. Instead, I could see a ceiling with recessed LEDs through the gauzy curtains of a four-poster bed. There was no way in fuck that I was back at the orphanage. ¡°What time¡¯s it?¡± I mumbled as I started to look around. I was still dressed. At least, I had pants on, and a jacket which left my stomach bare. My uncovered feet felt just shy of chilly. It¡¯s six forty in the morning. Your daily allotment of points has come in. Your total is sitting at eight thousand, two hundred eighty-three points. I started a little at the voice that... had come from somewhere in my head. Memories came back. The museum, the sky tearing open and aliens raining down around us. Getting impaled and becoming a Samurai... Myalis guiding and trolling me. The kittens flying off to safety. A few interminable and stressful hours spent trying to save people. ¡°Crap,¡± I said as I sat up on the edge of the bed. I¡¯d made a mess of the topmost blankets. My invisibility jacket was covered in alien blood and non-alien blood and a lot of dust and crap. A miracle Lucy even let me into the room with it on. Another memory returned. ¡°Did I sleep through sex?¡± I asked with mounting horror. You didn¡¯t make it far enough to make your statement even remotely true. ¡°Fuck me.¡± That is, in fact, what didn¡¯t happen. I groaned as I got up. Whisper, my stealth crossbow, rested against the wall next to the door. None of the kittens had grabbed it, at least. I still had my back-mounted guns and tail on, and a hand cannon tucked under my new cybernetic arm. ¡°I¡¯m a mess,¡± I said. I¡¯d offer you some sort of self-cleaning system, but the washrooms in this place are... adequate. I took off my jacket and flung it onto a sofa off to one side. Someone would need to clean the sofa, someone not me. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can get some food first. And check on the kittens.¡± The penthouse we had was divided up into little rooms. Lucy dumped me in the big suite the night before, but from the open doors I crossed on the way to the kitchen area, the other suites seemed pretty damned luxurious too. The wide open lobby area, sofas and a wrap-around television off to one side, took up a space longer than a bus. Everything done in marble and wood, with a pinch of gilding here and there. I would have called it ostentatious, but somehow it wasn¡¯t. Obviously, they¡¯d hired some decorators to make the place look like an old-money palace. Nose and Little Tim were knocked out on the couch, the TV playing some Samurai cartoon on mute. I elected not to bother them as I moved around an island bigger than my room back at the orphanage and yanked open the door to the fridge behind it. The damned thing was stocked. I grabbed some cereals of the colourful sort in one of the cupboards and an expensive glass bottle of genuine cow milk in the door. I poured myself a bowl of Longb¡¯O¡¯s for irony¡¯s sake, then watched as all the little rings started to glow on contact with the milk. ¡°Neat,¡± I said. This food provides literally negative nutrition. I munched through a mouthful of sugary goodness. ¡°Tastes great though,¡± I said. We could never afford the cool sort of junk food back home. I set the box on its side and watched the scrolling ads for cool toys pass along under a grinning image of a familiar Samurai. The bastard had been airbrushed, I just knew it. ¡°Cat?¡± I looked up to see Bargain standing next to the island. He was a bit short, only his head poking out from above. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. He looked at me, shrewd little eyes taking me in. ¡°What would you give me not to wake everyone up?¡± he asked. Some things never changed. I smiled big and wide at him, and pulled my Trench Maker from under my arm and let the heavy handgun clunk onto the top of the island. ¡°This gun can be loaded with any kind of bullet,¡± I said. ¡°Samurai magic shit, you know? How much do you wanna bet there are some specifically made to deal with annoying little shits?¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°That¡¯s a good deal,¡± he said before running off. I think we¡¯re going to have a weapon¡¯s safety lesson in the near future. ¡°The safety¡¯s on,¡± I muttered before returning to my cereal. I had the envious problem of running out of glowing rings before running out of milk, which meant I was obligated to refill the bowl. The next ones to show up were the Twins, and while I was pretty cool with Alpha and Omega, the two of them took one look at me before squealing. ¡°Cat¡¯s awake!¡± Before I could eat any more of my cereal, they were joined by bleary-eyed kittens spawned from all over. Spark and Tim came over, then Nemo and Nose and Bargain who still seemed a bit cowed. It was too bad the others weren¡¯t. I listened to their babbled questions for all of a minute before I started feeling a stress headache coming on. ¡°Would you all shut up?!¡± I shouted. That worked about as well as it usually, did, which was not at all. ¡°Kittens, be quiet,¡± a soft voice asked from behind the lot of them. They clamped up like mouse traps going off. ¡°How about everyone pull up a chair and we can get some breakfast?¡± Lucy said as she pushed Tim towards one of the seats around the island. It was a little awkward, what with her still holding onto her crutches under one arm. ¡°You¡¯re going to cook?¡± I asked. ¡°Hell no. They have room service here,¡± she said. ¡°I bet it¡¯s better than those.¡± ¡°These,¡± I said while raising my spoon. ¡°Are great.¡± She scrunched her nose at me. ¡°I actually met Longbow, you know,¡± I said with a gesture of my spoon towards the boxart. ¡°He¡¯s... kinda insane. Nice though.¡± ¡°Showing off?¡± she asked. I grinned back at her. ¡°Just you wait,¡± I said with just a bit of a purr in my voice. She smiled right back. ¡°I waited plenty last night, but someone decided to fall asleep.¡± Much to my annoyance, a few of the kittens caught on and laughed at my reddening cheeks. ¡°Oh, shut up you lot, I had a long day.¡± ¡°Is that your excuse now?¡± Junior asked as she came around and took a seat just a ways to my side. She slid the box of cereal over, then huffed and got up to fetch a bowl. ¡°You still owe me a knife,¡± she said as she fished for a spoon. ¡°Might as well,¡± I sighed. ¡°Lucy, you wanna order that breakfast? Also, where¡¯s Dumbass?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Lucy said as she clacked her way over to an old-school phone on a pedestal nearby. Nemo ran off, returning a minute later with one of my little drones clutched between both hands. It was Dumbass the First, sans gun mounting. I had the drones disarm when the children started playing with them. ¡°How responsible,¡± I said before clearing my throat. ¡°Alright, you little shits. This is Dumbass. It¡¯s got some fancy medical scanner doodad in it. You let it scan you, then Myalis, my wonderful brain worm AI buddy, will tell me how to cure the stupid out of you lot.¡± If that were possible, wouldn¡¯t you think I¡¯d have tried to talk you into curing yourself a long time ago?'' I saw Lucy pausing by the phone, and a few of the kittens were looking at the drone with wide, hopeful eyes. ¡°Th-thank you,¡± Bargain said. ¡°Oh, shut up,¡± I said. ¡°You know I¡¯m just doing it to impress Lucy.¡± Lucy snorted before picking up the phone. Junior barked a laugh next to me. ¡°You¡¯re a shit liar,¡± she said. ¡°And don¡¯t think that curing some incurable sickness will let you off the hook.¡± I rolled my eyes while Dumbass got to work. ¡°For... fine. Myalis, we got any sort of knife available?¡± You do. In your Sun Watcher Technologies catalogue. The cheapest is a survivalist knife with an extendable monofilament blade. It will cost you five points. ¡°Perfect,¡± I said. A cheap plastic box appeared on the table before me and I slid it over to Junior. Her eyes lit up as she tore the package open and pulled out a foot-long knife. ¡°Monofilament blade,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t kill yourself.¡± ¡°Awesome,¡± she said, then her smile froze and she turned the knife around. ¡°Wait, why¡¯s it got a cat on the handle?¡± I blinked and leaned over. There was, in fact, a feline on the handle. But it wasn¡¯t a cat, it was a kitten. ¡°I think it¡¯s the button to retract the blade,¡± I said. ¡°Why¡¯s it shaped like a cat?¡± ¡°A kitten,¡± I said. ¡°Just like you!¡± She glared, which warmed my heart. ¡°Alright! Time to pull a Jesus.¡± *** Chapter Two - A Slice of Happiness Chapter Two - A Slice of Happiness ¡°Times of peace aren¡¯t uncommon. But they never really last.¡± --Deus Ex, June 2057 *** ¡°So, what¡¯ve you got for me?¡± I asked Myalis while looking over at Dumbass the First. I suppose I could start with the youngest and work my way up. ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°So we¡¯ll start with Nose, or is Spark younger?¡± I believe that Nose is the youngest, judging by the scans Dumbass has taken. The kittens were all gathered around the kitchen island still, even Lucy who returned from ordering breakfast with a sly smile on. Daniel had pulled around on his chair and waved me hello before deep-diving into his phone. Nose and Spark were both standing near the edge of the table and looking at me without blinking. Nose... and that is an awful name that I¡¯ve no doubt you had something to do with, seems to suffer from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. It¡¯s at the third stage. It¡¯s rather surprising that he can still function moderately well. He has a few other conditions mostly centred around his nasal cavity and esophagus. ¡°Nose is a tough little shit,¡± I said. Nose nodded seriously. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Got a cure?¡± Obviously. A nano repair suite should be sufficient to cure the ailment. I grinned. ¡°Don¡¯t keep us waiting, Myalis. And tab it all up for me in one go at the end.¡± A box appeared on the island, small and cheap. Inside was an inhaler with a tank the size of a soda can and a red button on the top. Its front was shaped like a rather basic oxygen mask. Spread out the use over the course of the day. Tell Nose to drink a lot of water and have a big, varied meal later. He¡¯s got a few nutritional deficiencies. In fact, all of them, you included, do.There are also traces of heavy metals in your blood and in some of your organs, some nitrates, plastics, and a few other chemicals that I suspect were used as fertilizer and pesticides. It¡¯s fortunate that humans are so resilient, or you¡¯d all be tumorous masses by now. I slid the inhaler over to Nose. ¡°Take a puff every hour or so. And then eat a lot tonight. Oh, and down a couple of glasses of water, alright?¡± I¡¯d need to get some sort of detox thing for all the kittens later, but that could probably wait a day. ¡°Yeah!¡± he said before taking the inhaler. Everyone watched as he took a deep breath from it, then coughed a few times. ¡°Tickles,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯ll get better,¡± I said. ¡°Sparks, you¡¯re up next.¡± ¡°Alright!¡± Sparks said. ¡°Hit me up, doc Cat.¡± Sparks has an interesting one. It seems like a sort of prion disease. I suspect he came into contact with something while very young. It has mostly kept to his parietal lobe, reducing his ability to feel touch. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s why he¡¯s called Spark, he likes licking power outlets.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t!¡± Spark protested. ¡°It just feels weird.¡± A simple Neuro Regenerative should do. Another box, this one with a red plastic nib and drawn instructions on the side to place it against the crook of the arm. ¡°Can you figure it out?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot,¡± he said before fumbling with the injector. He didn¡¯t even wince as he pulled back his sleeve and jabbed it in. ¡°When¡¯s this going to work?¡± he asked. It will take approximately an hour for the first signs of regression to show. Six for a complete cure. Also, he¡¯s far too thin. I suspect that he can¡¯t feel hunger pangs at all. ¡°Give it until this afternoon,¡± I said. ¡°And eat more. You¡¯re too damned thin. Tim, you¡¯re too thin too.¡± Tim here is missing a leg. That much is rather obvious. Otherwise, he¡¯s in decent health. ¡°Tim¡¯s new to the kittens,¡± I explained. It was kind of shit that being new meant that he hadn¡¯t collected a bunch of problems yet. ¡°Will you regrow my leg?¡± he asked. ¡°Do you want a new leg or a prosthetic?¡± I asked while wiggling my metal fingers around. ¡°Can I have one like yours?¡± ¡°Only if you want to lose an arm,¡± I snarked back. It earned a few laughs, which was nice. The mood with the kittens was about as high as I¡¯d ever seen it. ¡°But nah, just a normal Samurai-grade prosthetic. Mine can fire rockets. Yours... won¡¯t.¡± ¡°Aww,¡± he said. His current prosthetic is rather pitiful. I¡¯d suggest a Sun Watcher replacement. There are some that are inexpensive, require little to no maintenance, and are far superior to what he has. They can also expand over time so that they won¡¯t require replacing for some years. I¡¯d also suggest an anti-rash cream. I tapped the table. ¡°Come on, Myalis, don¡¯t keep us waiting.¡± Tim¡¯s new leg came in a little case, and next to it came a small jar of some sort of cream with instructions drawn all around it. ¡°Spark, Nose, wanna help him put it on?¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The three rushed off with the couches in the living room, with Tim demanding that they be careful with his new leg. ¡°Bargain,¡± I said. ¡°Cat,¡± he replied. Bargain has a few smaller issues. Chemical burns on the lower half of his body, a slight defect in his heart, and a minor case of cerebral palsy as well. The skin issues can be relieved with a cream. I¡¯d advise the same for your own burns if you ever want to repair them actually. The lung issue will require a Nano Regenerative Suite. The cerebral palsy will require a Neuro Regenerative. It won¡¯t disappear instantly. He will need to exercise, stretch, and straighten his posture over the course of some months. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Lay it on the table.¡± The boxes appeared. Bargain looked at them, then up to me. I could see the gear turning behind his eyes. ¡°No more wheeling and dealing,¡± I said. ¡°Not with me or Lucy.¡± He nodded slowly. ¡°And the others?¡± ¡°Do as you want with them, but be fair to the other kittens,¡± I said. ¡°Oh, and you¡¯ll need to stand taller and exercise to fix yourself up properly. And probably eat something other than the shit we usually have.¡± ¡°Alright, deal,¡± he said. ¡°Nemo?¡± I asked. Nemo popped her head up and blinked at me. Very mild autism, some selective mutism, and a terrible diet. A Neuro Regenerative would fix some of the issues with her brain, but most of Nemo¡¯s problems are due to a poor diet and some psychological issues. I nodded and flicked the next box that appeared her way. ¡°You need to eat better too,¡± I said. Nemo nodded, smiled, then ran off to see Tim and Sparks and the others. You are aware that the Twins aren¡¯t genetically twins at all, right? ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re just missing the same bits,¡± I said. The twins--who did look like each other, with the same shitty haircut, brown hair and eyes and too-pale skin--leaned forwards at the same time. ¡°We want rocket launcher arms,¡± they said as one. ¡°No,¡± I vetoed. Two new arms later, and they were off helping each other install their new prosthetics and playing around with them over in the living room. ¡°Okay, so, for my final acts... Daniel, you¡¯ve got some sort of muscular fuck-up-edness, right?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the medical term, yeah,¡± he agreed with a grin. Muscular dystrophy. Chemically induced at that. A rather simple fix. I flung the next box over to him and he saluted me back. ¡°Thanks, love.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t try.¡± ¡°How long until I can start dancing?¡± Two to three days. I snorted. ¡°Your pasty white ass will never be able to dance,¡± I said. ¡°But in a few days, you¡¯ll be able to traumatize the kids by trying.¡± He flipped me the bird, but it was while still smiling. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± And finally, we have Junior. She... is merely malnourished, with traces of contaminants in her blood that will pass eventually. ¡°Junior,¡± I said. ¡°Yeah?¡± she asked as she looked up from her bowl. ¡°You¡¯re too fucking skinny.¡± ¡°Fuck you,¡± she said. I felt a shy, tentative hand touching my shoulder. ¡°What about me?¡± Lucy asked. Lucy has Multiple Sclerosis. A simple enough thing to cure. A fresh box appeared on the table. Give her those. Then allow for a few hours to restore all of her cognitive functions. It might be mildly unpleasant. Afterwards, she¡¯ll need to practice walking and running once more. ¡°You¡¯ll need to take these,¡± I said. ¡°But they¡¯ll make you feel all tingly.¡± She smiled up at me. ¡°Tingly, huh?¡± she asked. ¡°Will you help me get rid of all my tingles?¡± I leaned down and our lips met for a moment while I fiddled with the box with my free hand. I had the tablets out soon enough and was carefully pressing the single pill between her lips. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, get a room,¡± Junior said. ¡°Don¡¯t do that in front of my cereal.¡± Lucy and I happily complied, though it was a bit hard to make it back to the room with our faces practically glued together. ¡°Oh, oh man, it really is tingly,¡± Lucy said as she sat on the edge of the bed. ¡°My feet are all... You know when your arms go to sleep and then they come awake?¡± She wiggled her legs, then wiggled them some more as she slid off the pyjama pants she was wearing to expose two beautiful dark legs. I got to my knees to capture one of her feet. Carefully, I started to massage it, just a bit of pressure in the way she always liked. The pleased little noise she made said a lot. I leaned down and pressed a kiss onto the top of her foot. And then, before I could lean back, a pair of panties dropped down and came to rest around her ankles. I looked up to meet Lucy¡¯s bright eyes. ¡°You said you¡¯d take care of all the parts that tingled.¡± ¡°So I did,¡± I agreed. *** Interlewd One Interlewd One I trailed kisses up Lucy¡¯s leg while my hands fumbled with the zipper of my autoloader jacket. By the time I¡¯d reached her thigh and her hands fell onto my head and started scratching into my scalp in a most delicious way, I was tearing the coat off. ¡°Cat,¡± Lucy said. Her voice was breathy and husky and sending shivers down my spine. ¡°Yeah?¡± I asked. ¡°When¡¯s the last time you took a shower?¡± ¡°Uh.¡± ¡°You smell like... rubber and smoke,¡± she added. ¡°Yeah, I was a bit busy yesterday, with that kind of thing,¡± I admitted. I leaned down and gave myself a sniff and... yeah, I needed a shower. That splashed some cold water onto my libido. ¡°You know, the showers here are really big,¡± Lucy said. ¡°And I¡¯m already dressed for a shower.¡± I looked up to see her casually slip out of her top. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. I got up a little awkwardly, then extended my hands to Lucy to help her onto her feet. She was so light that I barely felt the strain of lifting her, and the little two-step she did to slip her panties off her feet made the blood rushing to my ears sound like a pulsing waterfall. ¡°Let¡¯s go?¡± she asked. I nodded, bent down, then scooped her up into a bridal carry while she squeaked. ¡°Always wanted to do that,¡± I said. ¡°Give a girl two arms and all of a sudden she¡¯s all gallant,¡± she said before bending forwards to press her lips against mine. For a moment I forgot that we were supposed to be going anywhere. But Lucy reminded me by trailing a hand behind me and pinching my rear. ¡°Get moving,¡± she said. ¡°Your new arm is cold.¡± She wiggled her legs, both currently draped over my new forearm, for emphasis. The en-suite bathroom was huge, with two sinks (why?) and a shower that was bigger than the entire bathroom back at the orphanage, with glass walls and a tiled backdrop covered in little carved flowers. I set Lucy down only for her to push against me and seal her lips against mine. Her hands fumbled at my belt while mine slid down her back and pulled her closer. She pulled back for a moment, then gestured at my shoulders. ¡°You¡¯re wearing that into the shower?¡± she asked. I swallowed. ¡°Oh, right. Uh.¡± I couldn¡¯t recall how to remove the back-mounted guns, not through the haze in my mind. ¡°Myalis, how do I get this off?¡± You only had to ask. The mounting running along my spine undid itself with faint little pops and it fell to the ground, tail and all. Lucy looked up to me. ¡°Is, um, Myalis... watching?¡± If it reassures her, I have performed full-body scans of her already. There¡¯s very little to hide. ¡°That really doesn¡¯t help, Myalis,¡± I muttered. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Lucy said. ¡°It¡¯ll be my first threesome.¡± ¡°I really don¡¯t think it counts,¡± I said. Please inform Lucy that I¡¯m very much not interested in procreating with a human. ¡°What¡¯s that even mean?¡± I asked. ¡°What?¡± I feel like a third wheel here. ¡°She¡¯s being a pain,¡± I said. With my hands now a bit more free, I tossed my pants down and bent my legs up one by one to tear my socks off. ¡°So, uh, I don¡¯t think I can shut her out? Is that... a problem?¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Lucy shrugged. ¡°I guess not.¡± I let my shoulders slump a bit. I was worked up enough that Lucy calling it off would have been disappointing, to say the least. ¡°So, how good is this shower?¡± I asked. She grabbed onto my hand and pulled me towards it. ¡°Alone? It¡¯s alright,¡± she said. ¡°Shower, on. Hot.¡± The shower came on behind her, its door silently sliding open. ¡°Fancy,¡± I said before ducking down for another kiss. We stumbled into a dozen jets of water so hot it almost hurt. My hair plastered down around me and I had to move it out of the way. That allowed me to take in Lucy in all her splendour, dark hair contrasting against her mocha skin, her eyelashes fluttering as water collected on them, her lips wet and twisted up in a genuinely happy smile. ¡°Look at this,¡± she said. ¡°Shower, soap!¡± The water turned into a stream of warm bubbles that fell down around us and turned the world white. I laughed. ¡°Does it do shampoo too?¡± I asked. The amount in the water alone... that was such a waste. A decadent sort of luxury that I couldn¡¯t imagine getting used to. ¡°That¡¯s for later,¡± Lucy said before she pressed herself against me, all wet and smooth and soft. ¡°You need to scrub up first.¡± Her hands, just a bit cooler than the soapy water around us, pressed against my ribs, then slid around to my back while moving in little circles. I reciprocated, my flesh and blood hand touching her almost timidly at first before I recalled doing this kind of thing with her before. I reached up a little and gently grabbed at her breasts. ¡°Cat! I¡¯m not the dirty one here,¡± she admonished. Then because she liked down there, she pinched my rear again before pulling me so close that I had to let my hand drop. Her arms wrapped themselves around my chest and she tucked her head in against me. ¡°I was afraid, you know?¡± The sudden turn left my mind spinning for traction. ¡°Oh?¡± I asked. ¡°You left and... I guess it doesn¡¯t matter now.¡± Her lips pressed down on my clavicle, then my neck while she kept rubbing little soapy circles across my back. When her hand came around and squeezed my breast I had to hold back a little moan. ¡°Am I clean enough yet?¡± I asked. ¡°Hrm?¡± she asked, turning the purr into a question. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I was about to ask something, but the question was lost when Lucy pushed me back and I encountered the cold tiles of the shower wall. I gasped at the sensation and pushed forwards only for Lucy to meet me with another kiss. Her hands wandered down, grabbing at my hips. ¡°Lucy,¡± I said. ¡°Cat?¡± she asked as she pulled back a bit. She was still close, very close. ¡°I love you.¡± She grinned, big and happy and a bit silly. ¡°I love you too,¡± she said.

Hi! It''s me, RavensDagger. So, because Royal Road moved onto Apple and Google''s platforms, it doesn''t allow lewd content anymore. for that reason... well, the lewd part of this interlewd was moved off site. But it''s okay! You can read it, entirely for free, on my patreon. Link right here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/91219188 Chapter Three - Post Coital Interruptions Chapter Three - Post Coital Interruptions ¡°Do you know what kind of opportunity the average person has? Fuck all. If you¡¯re not born in the right family, have the right connections, and go to the right schools, you¡¯re pretty much stuck kissing the ass of anyone one rung above you on the ladder while hoping that they¡¯ll slip up badly enough that you can take their spot. Worse, your fortunes can turn in a blink. Spent ten years working your way up to middle management in your department? Too fucking bad, some shareholders decided that your entire division needs to be pruned out to meet some elusive goal or to make the curve on their graphs look a bit smoother. Good luck starting from the bottom again. There¡¯s no one to blame but yourself for failing to read the room.¡± --Anonymous Reddit User, June 2029 *** I couldn¡¯t decide how I was feeling. Parts of me that I didn¡¯t know could tingle were tingling, and I had sore muscles across my everything. Not a bad sore, but the sort from exercising a lot, which was probably fair. I decided, after a moment¡¯s reflection, that what I was feeling could best be described as ¡®good.¡¯ I was feeling really good. A giggle escaped, one that was soon echoed by the person laying down next to me. Lucy shifted a bit, then brought her head to rest on my stomach. ¡°That was...¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed as I continued to stare at the ceiling. Eventually I got enough energy to bring a hand down and started to brush it through Lucy¡¯s hair, her very sweaty hair. ¡°I didn¡¯t know I could do that so many times,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sore.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. We weren¡¯t alone on the bed. There was also a very rumpled and probably unsanitary pile of blankets and pillows spread around here and there, and more importantly there was a machine. It was a horrifying machine, like something out of some madwoman¡¯s worst nightmares. It was eldritch and tentacled, and it looked wet and almost alive. It was the best hundred points I have ever spent, even if it had made me question my own sanity a few times. I wasn¡¯t even sure what time it was anymore. For all I knew a day could have passed. The details were certainly hazy enough. Shifting my hips a little, I got into a slightly more comfortable position where Lucy¡¯s head didn¡¯t dig into my stomach quite so much. ¡°That was something,¡± I said. ¡°It was,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Think we can go at it again?¡± I considered that for a moment. ¡°The mind is willing, but the flesh is... not.¡± She snorted, the motion bouncing her head up atop me. ¡°Yeah.¡± I smiled and continued to run my hands through Lucy¡¯s hair, content to do nothing but that for the rest of my life if need be. And then some jerk knocked at the door. ¡°Hey, are you two done fucking?¡± Junior asked. ¡°Urgh,¡± was the most coherent response I could manage. ¡°I sure hope so, because there are people here for Cat. Like, lots of them. And some androids too. Shit¡¯s annoying.¡± ¡°Tell them to go away,¡± I called back. ¡°Yeah, I tried that, you moron,¡± Junior said. ¡°They¡¯re real insistent. Some of them look important-like and they won¡¯t fucking leave.¡± I sighed. I didn¡¯t want to leave. This place was a happy place and outside of this place wasn¡¯t. ¡°Tell Dumbass to shoo them away.¡± ¡°Yeah, no,¡± Junior said. ¡°Look, I¡¯m coming in. Some of the kittens are getting scared and it¡¯s annoying.¡± ¡°Oh shit,¡± Lucy said as she scrambled up and off me with a sudden burst of energy. I did the same, looking for my clothes only to find that I¡¯d left everything on the ground in a trail leading into the en-suite bathroom. The door clicked open just as Lucy and I bumped into each other by the base of the bed. Our friendly eldritch tentacle machine seemed to notice the excitation because it started wiggling around too, especially when the door handle wobbled a bit. Three very confusing minutes later I was slipping out into the corridor outside our room while doing up my belt. I didn¡¯t actually have a shirt, just the autoloader jacket, and despite having taken a very thorough and long shower with Lucy, I knew that I smelled a little. I¡¯d have to take another once things were dealt with. The tentacle machine could join too. ¡°Where¡¯re these assholes?¡± I asked Junior who looked exceptionally unimpressed by me and my antics. Her nose wrinkled up and she gestured down the corridor a ways. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡°They¡¯re by the entrance. The kittens are all off in their rooms. I knocked earlier, but you didn''t reply, just made these weird ass donkey noises.¡± I felt some warmth gathering in my cheeks and looked past her and towards the entrance. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll go see what they want, I guess.¡± I left Whisper in the bedroom with Lucy, which was probably for the best. That meant that all the armament I had was my Trench Maker, a shoulder mounted railgun and a plasma-firing gun on the other shoulder. And a tail with a thagomizer. That... was probably enough to convince some less wholesome people to vacate the area. I tugged my jacket on straighter and stomped out towards the living room and kitchen area. What I found there were three groups of people. The first were a pair of serious looking men in black suits, standing ramrod straight and wearing sunglasses indoors. The second were also wearing suits, but these were patterned and a bit more colourful. They were smiling as if their cheeks were tacked in place that way. And the third were a pair of soldiers in dress uniforms with little maple leafs on their shoulders. The three groups all elected to talk at the same time, a cacophony of noise that I couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of. They seemed to catch on that if they all talked at once, they wouldn¡¯t be making much sense, but instead of taking their time they turned onto each other and started bickering between each other. It was like something out of a particularly unfunny comedy sketch. ¡°Okay, everyone shut up,¡± I said. I was still getting used to the idea that people respected me, adults especially, but it was incredibly amusing to see adults snapping their mouths closed just because I¡¯d told them to. ¡°You, with the shades. Who are you?¡± I pointed to the guy in the middle of the group in black suits, the one that looked in charge. ¡°Miss Leblanc, we are an organization charged with the protection of American assets. Upon seeing that you became a Samurai we thought it appropriate to inform you that, were you so willing, our organization could assist you in coming to your own an--¡± I stopped him with a raised hand. ¡°Just send me a fucking Email. Now who are you guys?¡± I asked the next bunch. They all started talking over each other, and I could feel my post coital bliss draining away as they prattled on. ¡°One at a time, you fuckwits,¡± I said. As it turned out, all of them were representatives of one corporation or another, each one of the eager and excited to sign me on and use my likeness to promote... everything from cereals to soft drugs and one sleezy guy said that they mostly dealt in deep fake pornography. ¡°Right, right I¡¯ve heard enough, please kindly fuck off. If I want something I¡¯ll contact you, not the other way around.¡± Some of them started to protest, but Myalis, being the best, had my railgun slide out over my shoulder and it started making a deep ominous hum. ¡°And who¡¯re you lot?¡± I asked the soldiers. ¡°We¡¯re representatives of the Canadian Armed Forces, ma¡¯am,¡± the one with the more elaborate medals said. ¡°Aren¡¯t you guys a joke?¡± I asked. ¡°No ma¡¯am,¡± he said without so much as twitching. Well, at least they were polite. ¡°And you want me to join up? Become private Leblanc?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Nothing of the sort. We merely wished to both thank you for your efforts yesterday and extend an offer to you. If you ever wish to join the forces there¡¯s a place for you. We will send a recruitment package to your email address, if you wish.¡± Real polite, I like it. ¡°You know what, sure,¡± I said. I didn¡¯t intend to join, but their uniforms looked nice and I bet I could find use for one. Lucy did always say that she liked women in tight uniforms. They saluted my way and made for the exit, only to be blocked as someone shoved past them. I stared at the newcomer, initially pissed at the gall, then I recognized them, or rather, her. Deus Ex looked on the wrong side of tired, but her armour was impeccable and so clean it could have come fresh off the alien presses. She didn¡¯t have her whole hover system with her, probably because it wouldn¡¯t fit inside any normal building, but she did have a few things strapped to her hips that looked like they might be dangerous. ¡°Stray Cat,¡± she said. ¡°We need to talk.¡± *** Chapter Four - Mean Minion Mode Chapter Four - Mean Minion Mode ¡°To say that Samurai are dangerous would be a wild understatement. They aren¡¯t truly beholden to any laws, corporate or governmental, they can act as they see fit, and they can do so with technology and tools that no normal force can match. They are only held accountable by their fellows. But most Samurai are at least somewhat mature. They¡¯re adults, with the responsibility and maturity that entails. Not all of them are so old. Many of them are young. What do you do with a teenager given unlimited power? Someone who has never been tempered by life and experience? Come, my flock, and let us pray for these lost souls!¡± --John Johnathan Johns, Twitch priest, June 2034 *** Deus Ex was a meter and a half tall stack of contradictions. She stood with her back straight and her brow set in a glare, her hands rested on her hips and her lips formed a little line. She was trying very hard to be intimidating, but she looked more like a mildly annoyed puppy. I kind of wanted to pat her on the head to see what would happen. ¡°You two, go away,¡± she said to the guys in black suits. She hadn¡¯t even looked at them. ¡°Ma¡¯am, we are here on official business,¡± one of them said. She slowly turned her head his way, then reached to the small of her back and pulled out a rounded, curved device that unmistakably had a handle and trigger mechanism on it. ¡°Will your life insurance cover damages to the building?¡± she asked. ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°Because this weapon will go right through you, and then through the rest of this building. Will your life insurance cover the damages, or will I need to find out who you work for and empty their accounts directly? I use this hotel sometimes, I don¡¯t want them thinking I¡¯m a bad client that won¡¯t pay for damages and corpse removal.¡± ¡°Um,¡± the guy said. His whole stoic attitude was really getting tested. ¡°We can return later,¡± he said. ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°Send me an email or something instead. I don¡¯t do cryptic much.¡± A few seconds later, Deus Ex and I were the only ones left in the entrance lobby area. I gestured with a nod towards the inside and started walking over to the couches before the television. ¡°Were you injured?¡± Deus Ex asked as she followed. ¡°You¡¯re walking crooked.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said before sitting down and leaning back. I was surprisingly tired. Maybe a nap would feel good once everything was done. ¡°So what brings you here? Wanted to bask in my presence some more?¡± ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°The incursion is pretty much done with. All that¡¯s left is the sewer crawling, and I¡¯m not going to participate in any of that.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. Couldn¡¯t blame her. ¡°I¡¯m actually here to give you some work.¡± I blinked and paid more attention to her. ¡°Some work?¡± I repeated. ¡°I don¡¯t recall being on your payroll.¡± ¡°I¡¯m paying for these rooms. And you owe me a favour,¡± she said. ¡°Uh. Usually there¡¯s a bit more communication than this,¡± I said. She pouted again. Or maybe she was trying to glare? Either way I wanted to pinch her cheeks. ¡°Don¡¯t be an ass. You¡¯re still a newbie, and you have a bunch of normies to take care of.¡± She gestured in the vague direction of the kittens. ¡°I don¡¯t mind paying for this place for a bit longer, but that means you¡¯ll have to be my minion.¡± ¡°Your minion?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes. There are things I need to do that I don¡¯t feel like doing. You¡¯ll do them for me.¡± ¡°Do I get a say in this?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯re too weak to get a say,¡± she said. I glared at the little extortionist pain in the ass. ¡°You¡¯re not as cute as I thought you were,¡± I said. The little bitch actually seemed proud of it! ¡°Good. I don¡¯t have time to babysit you or anything, and your profile says that you¡¯re too stubborn and stupid to join up with a proper group, so you get to be my minion.¡± I laughed. The situation was... well, it was funny, in a weird absurdist way. ¡°Okay, great boss-girl, what do you want your humble minion to do?¡± I played along. I did kind of owe her a favour or two. Deus Ex didn¡¯t answer me right away. Instead she glanced over to the television. The screen came on, and an image of a young woman appeared on it. She looked bored, with her shoulders set and her eyes looking into the camera. An ID photo, probably. Brown hair, with a purple streak in it. No piercings or tattoos. Blue eyes, though one was a lot lighter than the other. Probably some eyegear or an aug. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Who¡¯s the girl?¡± I asked. ¡°Katallina McCarthy,¡± Deus Ex said. The image shifted to only take up part of the screen, the rest filled up with school records, hospital records and a moving social media feed that looked like it was going through years of stuff in a hurry. ¡°She your girlfriend?¡± I asked. Deus Ex huffed, but her cheeks reddened a bit. ¡°I don''t have a girlfriend,¡± she said. ¡°Look, if you want me to stalk someone for you, then... well then that¡¯s a bit creepy. I bet I can help you get in her pants though. I could coach you. Give you a bit of advice. How to talk to other girls, how to hint that you¡¯re interested. I can do this thing with my tongue, it¡¯s really impr--¡± ¡°Sh-shut up!¡± Deus Ex said. I started giggling, especially on seeing how red she was going. ¡°You¡¯re disgusting,¡± she said. I grinned. ¡°So, what¡¯s up with Katallina here? Also, where did you get all of her files?¡± Deus Ex shook her head. ¡°We¡¯re Samurai, it¡¯s not exactly hard to get. And what¡¯s up with her is that she might be one of us.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± I asked. She shook her head. ¡°No. It¡¯s... Okay, so the Family are the group that pretty much take care of North America. We¡¯re pretty big and we do a lot of stuff. Most members just join and don¡¯t do too much, but that¡¯s alright. One of our core tenets is helping out new Samurai. That means making sure they survive and don¡¯t get in too much trouble with the corps. You don¡¯t want to accidentally sell your rights to anyone.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°So... like Longbow helping me?¡± She nodded. ¡°Like big brother Longbow asking me to save your sorry ass, yeah.¡± I snorted. ¡°Alright, but why?¡± She actually seemed confused for a moment. ¡°Because otherwise idiots like you would die a lot more. We need every Samurai we can get.¡± That sounded way too optimistic to be real, but she seemed to believe it. ¡°Alright. And this girl¡¯s a Samurai?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°Look.¡± The screen filled with footage of a corridor. It was poorly lit, and the camera was fixed. No doubt some security system tucked away in a corner. A girl came around a bend, trailed by a dog, a big german shepherd. She looked nervous and sweaty, her brown and purple hair plastered to her face. The girl and the dog ran halfway down the corridor before a pair of Model Threes came around, the same. They were as I remembered them, big, dog-like, with bony bodies in matte black and triple hinged jaws opened wide. The girl stopped and raised a rifle. She called something out to her dog who had stopped too and who had placed itself between her and the Model Threes. She fired off a burst of strange red beams that tore the aliens apart, then she continued running with her dog by her heels. ¡°A fresh Samurai?¡± I asked. The scene was pretty damned similar to my own initiation to the world of Samurai. ¡°We think so,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°But we don¡¯t know for sure. She was in a building on the very edge of the orange zone. Not too many Antithesis around there. She might just be a civilian that found an old Samurai gun.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you just ask your AI?¡± I¡¯m afraid that we can¡¯t divulge information about other Vanguards. ¡°Ah,¡± I said. ¡°Nevermind.¡± I rubbed at my chin. ¡°So what happened to her and her dog?¡± Deus Ex shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t know. Honestly, I have better things to do.¡± ¡°Uh. Why bring this all up then?¡± I asked. ¡°Because someone needs to check up on her,¡± she said. ¡°And you¡¯re not doing anything important.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but what? I was doing plenty of very important things. Most of them are in bed with my girlfriend.¡± Her nose scrunched up, then realization sparked in her eyes. ¡°Oh, eww. That¡¯s gross.¡± She bounced off the couch as if it had been contaminated or something. We hadn¡¯t even made it out of the room yet, I didn¡¯t see what had her so freaked out, but it was cute. Probably a good thing that Lucy wasn¡¯t around. She would be hugging Deus Ex by now. ¡°Can¡¯t you just track her electronically?¡± I asked. ¡°We tried that, obviously,¡± Deus Ex said. She was eyeing the furniture with suspicion. ¡°But it didn¡¯t work. She went dark. So we need to find her, or her corpse. Make sure no corporation gets to her.¡± ¡°Why?¡± I asked. ¡°The corpse bit, mostly.¡± ¡°Because she¡¯s one of us,¡± Deus Ex said as if that would explain everything. I guess that to her, it did. Chapter Five - Professionalism Chapter Five - Professionalism ¡°The importance of Samurai in our modern society cannot be overstated. In the 1900s there was a surge of popularity centered around celebrities, especially in the West. Movie stars, musicians, sports stars. They became the idols of their generations, faces and names known to all. After the initial incursions, some attention turned to the Samurai who had, seemingly, saved us all. That attention turned to idolization as the full scope of what they could do became known. That is why it is imperative Nimbletainment continues to be the predominant holder of the image rights of Samurai across North America.¡± --Nimbletainment CEO during a company-wide brief. 2037 *** ¡°So,¡± I said. ¡°How?¡± ¡°What?¡± Deus Ex asked. I gestured to the television where Katallina¡¯s face was still displayed. ¡°You want me to find that girl, right? How?¡± Deus shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. You figure it out. It¡¯ll be like a test or something.¡± ¡°Or something,¡± I repeated, deadpan. I gave her my flattest look. ¡°You¡¯re real professional, aren¡¯t you?¡± The girl bristled at that, sitting straighter in her seat and glaring right back at me before her face twisted to neutrality. ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°If you need someone to baby you, I can take some of my precious time to help you.¡± I snorted. Maybe that would have tweaked the pride of someone who hadn¡¯t had my stellar upbringing, but it did nothing for me. The kittens regularly came up with better insults. ¡°So how do you expect me to find her? Better yet, how would you do it?¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a packet with her info.¡± The moment she said that, I got a ping in my vision, an email. I blinked a few times to open it, then noticed that I had five digits worth of unread emails. ¡°Damn, how come my email hasn¡¯t blown up yet?¡± It was a good thing I was using one of the free email services. Some charged a fee for every email. Those usually had all sorts of encryptions and stuff, and they claimed not to sell your messages to advertisers, but I never got anything important enough to warrant that. I might have had something to do with that. You receive a lot of spam. And viruses. Also, images of genitals. The news that you¡¯ve become a Vanguard isn¡¯t widely circulated yet, but some people have connected the dots. I winced. ¡°Just delete all the nasty ones... well, keep the nudes if they¡¯re tasteful.¡± No. The afternoon was turning really sour, especially compared to the morning. I opened Deus Ex¡¯s email, then stared at an image of Deus Ex giving me the finger before a plain background. ¡°Uh.¡± Oh. The information is all in the image. It¡¯s stored in the image¡¯s pixelation, with different colour values representing different bits in hex. The sequence to read these is randomized with the code to decipher the randomization written as a multiplication of the image¡¯s resolution. Once the actual code is parsed, you need only de-encrypt it. It¡¯s a bit simple, and I¡¯ve no doubt that even some humans could figure it out given a few hours, but for non-sensitive information it will do. ¡°Uh,¡± I said. ¡°You know, talking to your AI out loud is generally a sign that you¡¯re really new,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°That might be because I am new,¡± I said. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s impossible to snark through text.¡± Deus Ex placed her hands on her knees and got to her feet. ¡°Right. Well, that package has everything we could trawl on Katallina in a few minutes. It¡¯s got her last known location too. I¡¯d start there. Ask your AI for help, it¡¯s definitely smarter than you are.¡± I wasn¡¯t going to argue with that one. ¡°Cat?¡± Both of us turned towards the kitchen to see Lucy walking over. She was a bit bow-legged, and had a hand trailing against the wall to keep her balance. She was wearing a nice set of silken pyjamas, no doubt stolen from a drawer somewhere. ¡°Hey Lucy,¡± I said. ¡°Wanna come over and sit?¡± ¡°Ah, yeah, sure,¡± she said. ¡°My legs are still wobbly.¡± ¡°Disgusting,¡± Deus Ex muttered. I wanted to give her shit for being rude, but with Lucy¡¯s MS being cured and all, there were only so many possible reasons for her to feel wobbly and Deus was probably thinking the right thing. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°Who¡¯s this cute little girl?¡± Lucy asked as she came closer. Deus Ex¡¯s face registered her disdain for the comment clear as day. ¡°I¡¯m Deus Ex,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s a very cute name,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Did you pick it out yourself?¡± If I hadn¡¯t known Lucy for as long as I did, I would probably assume that she was being genuine, but I knew that slight shift in her voice too well. She was messing with Deus Ex. ¡°Right, I¡¯m done here,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°Stray Cat, try to find the girl. She might be dead, or she might be in trouble with some corp or the government. If she¡¯s fine, then... just don¡¯t be yourself around her. Maybe give her my number? And if she¡¯s in trouble...¡± ¡°Get her out?¡± I asked. ¡°Or call for help?¡± ¡°Nah, just kill anyone causing issues. If it¡¯s to protect a new Samurai, then it¡¯s justified.¡± I had to wonder what kind of headspace someone like Deus Ex was in if she thought killing people to get things done was just business as usual. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°And when do you want me to start this... wait, I didn¡¯t agree to start this at all.¡± ¡°I¡¯m paying for the rent for this floor,¡± Deus said. ¡°Unless you want to pay for it yourself, and that probably includes some decontamination for wherever you... urgh, then you can start right away. Have your AI text me if you need anything.¡± ¡°Bye bye!¡± Lucy said with a little wave as Deus Ex walked past. The girl just marched her way on out of the room without so much as a second glance. ¡°Call me when you find her!¡± she said before leaving. ¡°She¡¯s a weird one,¡± I said. Lucy hummed as she made her way around the couch. She took a moment to look at all the available seats, then she picked the one she liked most. I exhaled hard as she plopped herself down onto my lap. ¡°Are you comfy?¡± I asked. She wiggled a bit, then leaned back and tucked her head against mine. ¡°Yup.¡± Grinning, I pulled her in with a hug and just took a moment to luxuriate in the warmth and the softness of her stolen pyjamas. ¡°I need to ask Myalis a couple of things,¡± I said. ¡°Ohh, I¡¯ll only get to hear half the conversation then,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I guess so.¡± That is easily remedied. One moment. I wondered what she was up to, then Dumbass the First skittered its way into the livingroom and hopped onto one of the sofas. It wiggled around to face us, then lowered itself down. ¡°Greetings,¡± the drone said in Myalis¡¯ voice. It was a little strange hearing her out loud. ¡°Hi Myalis!¡± Lucy said with a wave. ¡°I¡¯m still physically within Catherine¡¯s skull, I¡¯m merely using the drone as a mouthpiece,¡± Myalis explained. ¡°Nonetheless, it¡¯s a pleasure to speak with you through a more reliable method than Catherine¡¯s abysmal communication skills.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± ¡®She is really bad sometimes,¡± Lucy agreed. ¡°It¡¯s all threats, and cute little grunts.¡± ¡°H-hey!¡± this time my ire was directed at the girl on my lap. Myalis bobbed up and down. ¡°You¡¯re both awful,¡± I said. Then Lucy gave me a conciliatory peck on the cheek and I settled in to just pouting until they stopped teasing me. ¡°This mission, if we can call it that, is rather simple in its objective, but I suspect that carrying it out will be a great deal more complicated,¡± Myalis said. ¡°Evidence of Katalina''s disappearance will be time sensitive. Tracking her down might also be difficult.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re saying we should head out sooner rather than later?¡± I asked. ¡°Essentially, yes.¡± I really didn¡¯t want to leave. I was comfortable, with Lucy¡¯s bony behind digging into my thighs and my arms wrapped around her waist. Leaving was the last thing I wanted to do. ¡°Who¡¯s Katallina?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°She¡¯s a girl that went missing. She might be a Samurai, maybe. Deus Ex wants me to track her down, make sure she¡¯s alright,¡± I explained. ¡°Oh. That does sound kind of important,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Mmm, I guess.¡± I sank into Lucy a bit. ¡°I should probably take off. The faster I find this girl the sooner I can return.¡± Lucy pressed a kiss on my cheek. ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting here,¡± she said. I smiled. ¡°I know. I¡¯ll leave the Dumbasses here, to keep an eye on the kittens.¡± ¡°That would be nice. I bet Myalis is a great babysitter.¡± ¡°I regret informing you of my ability to communicate,¡± Myalis said. *** Chapter Six - Armour Up Chapter Six - Armour Up ¡°We spend a lot of time romanticizing the Samurai as a person of action and power, but this image is almost always framed with an incursion as the backdrop. The Samurai are saving civilians and killing aliens, averting, sometimes single-handedly, the sort of natural disaster that no government or corporation could tackle on their own without massive losses. When there isn¡¯t an active incursion, we see the Samurai as laid back celebrities, or pioneers pushing for radical new ideas. But what about those other times? The times when they¡¯re not in the limelight? The International Enquirer is there for you at those times! 24/7 coverage of all of your favourite Samurai, delivered in a bi-daily format for the low low subscription price of 350 credits a month!¡± --The International Enquirer ad, June 2031 *** I looked at the image on the television one last time before sighing and poking Lucy in the sides. ¡°Lucy, I need to get up,¡± I said. ¡°Aww, but I¡¯m comfy,¡± she complained. I chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re not the one with a bony butt digging into your lap,¡± I said. She gasped and half turned to face me. ¡°My ass is not bony.¡± ¡°It¡¯s practically nothing but bone,¡± I said. Lucy jabbed an elbow into my gut, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a message. ¡°Keep talking about it like that, and we¡¯ll see if you get to play with it any time soon,¡± she said as she hopped to her feet. Laughing, I accepted the hand she extended to help me up. ¡°Maybe I won¡¯t let you touch mine then,¡± I said. She shook her head. ¡°Nope. That ass is mine.¡± I pulled her into a hug. Not a sexy hug, just a comforting press of two bodies together, holding her close so I could feel the tickle of breath against my neck and the hummingbird beat of her heart. ¡°You¡¯ll be back?¡± she asked. ¡°Always,¡± I said. ¡°I just need to go out and act the hero for a bit.¡± She nodded. ¡°Alright. Can you be safe?¡± ¡°I can try,¡± I said. That was the best I could do. I¡¯d never been out on Samurai business before, or whatever they¡¯d call going out to track some girl, but I had the impression that it wasn¡¯t exactly the safest thing to do. ¡°You¡¯re going to get changed?¡± Lucy asked. I looked down at myself, at my very dirty pants and lack of a proper shirt. ¡°I should. I¡¯ve been thinking of buying some sort of armour too. Might as well do that now, before heading out. Maybe a few other things.¡± ¡°Can I see?¡± Lucy asked. I couldn¡¯t help but grin. ¡°Sure.¡± She would probably be a bit disappointed. The movies and games made the whole process where a Samurai got new gear out to be this big thing. In reality, it was a bit simpler. Lucy and I headed over to the bedroom again, with only a few pauses along the way for a bit of kissing and groping. When we stumbled our way into the room though, we separated. Lucy bounced on the edge of the bed a few times, then brought her knees up to her chin. ¡°Do the thing!¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m afraid,¡± Myalis said as Dumbass scurried into the room before I closed the door. ¡°That the process isn¡¯t nearly as amusing as you might think.¡± I shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s pretty accurate,¡± I said as I started to undress. ¡°Myalis, I need some sort of armour. Nothing bulky though.¡± ¡°Of course! I have many millions of options for you, though I believe I can narrow it down to a few choices that would suit you best.¡± ¡°Was that a pun?¡± Lucy asked. Dumbass bobbed up and down, but didn¡¯t answer the question. ¡°I see three avenues you could take. Your Sun Watcher Technologies has a few decent armours at tier one that could be very useful. They tend to be slim and form fitting, with kinetic redistribution gels, nearly uncuttable materials, and the better options have in-built systems for regulating temperature.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. That sounded neat enough. ¡°And the other two options?¡± ¡°Your stealth speciality has some suits that allow for audio-ocular camouflage of the entire body. They can also serve as armour, though these wouldn¡¯t do much beyond stopping some very low calibre weaponry. It would be more useful as a method to avoid getting hit, than one to prevent the damage of a hit, so to speak.¡± ¡°Ooh, invisible BDSM Cat,¡± Lucy said. ¡°That could be kind of hot.¡± I decided to ignore that, even if it was hard to keep my mind on track. There was no way I was still hot and bothered after our morning, but all signs pointed to that being wrong. ¡°And the third option?¡± I asked. ¡°Purchase an armour catalogue and buy something piecemeal, or a full set of proper armour. This is the option with the widest range in prices.¡± Myalis, or maybe Dumbass, moved over to the side of the bed, then hopped on and nestled over next to Lucy. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s start with the Sun Watcher stuff.¡± ¡°Might I suggest improving the catalogue up one tier?¡± Myalis asked. ¡°You have three tokens, and an ample supply of points. The improvement in the level of technology cannot be overstated.¡± I thought about it for a bit. ¡°How many points will I have left after that?¡± ¡°Eight Thousand, seven hundred and twelve.¡± Still a lot of points. But those were limited. I wasn¡¯t going to get any more for a while. ¡°You know what, sure.¡± Class II Sun Watcher Technology unlocked! Points Reduced to... 8712! ¡°Good, now the armour. What price are we talking here?¡± ¡°That would depend on what exactly you¡¯re looking for. A simple gel suit, with some protective capabilities and not much else would cost you ten points. A full suit, with self-repair, integrated medical load-outs, automatic adjustments, a deployable mask, class II armour and weaves, temperature control and minor reflex enhancers would cost two hundred points.¡± ¡°You should take the more protective one,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Your new arm is cool and all, but I¡¯d rather keep the rest of you all flesh. It¡¯s a lot more squishy.¡± I hesitated for a bit, but that was practically just for show. I¡¯d already made up my mind. ¡°What colour does it come in?¡± I asked. ¡°Any colour. Even those that can¡¯t be properly perceived by human eyes.¡± ¡°Neat. Can you make it black?¡± ¡°Not black!¡± Lucy said. ¡°That¡¯s so boring!¡± I huffed. ¡°Black is always in fashion,¡± I said. ¡°Plus I¡¯m supposed to be stealthy. You¡¯d probably want it to be pink or something. Black, or maybe that dark blue like some of my other gear.¡± ¡°A mix of both, perhaps. There are some complex parts to the suit,¡± Myalis said. ¡°As long as by both you mean black and blue, then yeah, sure. Let¡¯s go with that.¡± New Purchase: Mark IV TIGER-B armour Points Reduced to... 8512! A box appeared next to Lucy on the bed. I stepped out of my pants, leaving me in not much at all except for my underthings, and moved over to the case. Inside, I found a large belt and a few weird bracelets and something that looked like a very large necklace. All of them were big and bulky, and rather heavy when lifted. ¡°Uh?¡± ¡°Put them on. The suit will assemble itself over your body.¡± ¡°Cool!¡± Lucy said. I had to agree, the belt was little more than a series of linked boxes with a clasp by the front. The bracers went over my arms in a similar way, as did the sections over my ankles. The necklace, quite a bit heavier, sat a bit awkwardly around my neck. With the last piece on, the whole set buzzed. In the time it took to blink, plates of some bluish metal unfolded across my body and a cloth-like weave raced across my skin, then pulled taut. ¡°Nice!¡± Lucy said. She clapped a bit. ¡°You look awesome!¡± I stared down at myself, and kinda had to agree. The armour clung, a bit tight and form-fitting, with plates following my ribs and covering my chest and upper arms. Armoured sections covered my elbows and knees too, which would probably come in handy. The cloth had a few sharp lines done up in dark blue, giving it some contrast over the darker material. ¡°Oh man, that¡¯s tight,¡± Lucy said as she reached out and ran a hand over my stomach. The material was pretty tight there, I could actually make out the dip of my belly button through the material. ¡°Is this actually bulletproof?¡± I asked. ¡°We could test it,¡± Myalis said. ¡°Give Lucy a gun.¡± ¡°Ohh,¡± Lucy said. I shut that down quickly enough. ¡°Yeah, no, I¡¯ll take your word for it,¡± I said. ¡°I like the way it makes your butt look,¡± Lucy said with a thumb¡¯s up. I snorted and made a mental note to look into a mirror later. ¡°It already looked good,¡± I said. Lucy nodded. ¡°Your best asset,¡± she said before breaking off into peels of giggles. I shook my head and reached down to pick up my auto-loader jacket. It would be just that much more cover. As cool as the armour looked, it was a bit... skin-tight. I was far from self-conscious, but still. ¡°You should perhaps invest in a few other things before heading out,¡± Myalis said. ¡°Your armament seems appropriate for the likely level of threat you¡¯re going to face, but you¡¯re lacking in other areas. Your sensor packages are visual only so far, and not that terribly advanced.¡± ¡°And you need to look even cooler,¡± Lucy said. ¡°And a bit more colourful. Like... a scarf or something.¡± I sighed. ¡°Alright, we can do a tiny bit more shopping,¡± I said. Chapter Seven - Lending an Ear Chapter Seven - Lending an Ear ¡°Each Samurai¡¯s personal appearance is, technically, owned by the Samurai in question. That is why it is strongly advised that, when you begin to sell clothes that imitate their look, you do so through the intermediary of at least three shell companies. This will inevitably mean a large loss in profits, but it also serves as a method to keep your company safe. Even with the great losses, copying Samurai fashion is wildly profitable. The moment a Samurai comes out in public, their looks, their colour scheme, their style and mannerisn become iconic. Some change their appearance on a nearly-weekly basis, others keep to a certain look and style for months or years until their equipment changes. As long as the Samurai never decides to question you, then you can expect to make a tidy profit.¡± --Brian Jacques, CFO of the Coco-Gucci-Vouton Fashion Consortium, 2051 *** I picked up my invisibility jacket, shook it once or twice to get the gunk off of it, then sighed. ¡°One sec,¡± I said before heading over to the bathroom. The shower, a place that had recently climbed to my personal top ten, became host to my jacket which I flopped to the ground. ¡°Shower, on,¡± I said. When I returned to the bedroom, the shower still running behind me, it was to find Lucy cradling Dumbass the First on her lap and patting its head. The robot had turned on its hologram projector again, making it look like a rather smug tabby cat, though the illusion did break where Lucy¡¯s hand touched it. ¡°Okay, so things to buy,¡± I said. The cat nodded. ¡°Indeed. As I mentioned a moment ago, I believe your next investment should be a sensor suite.¡± ¡°And what would that entail?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh, entail,¡± Lucy repeated. ¡°Big words, Cat.¡± I stuck my tongue out at her. ¡°I can use more complicated words too, you know.¡± ¡°Really? This morning you seemed to have a hard time articulating anything more complicated than baby seal noises.¡± I felt my cheeks warming and turned my focus back onto Dumbass the First. ¡°Sensor suites,¡± I said. ¡°I would suggest a Sun Watcher Twin Ear system. It¡¯s a bit intrusive, connecting to your auditory cortex, but its uses are quite interesting. The Twin Ear comes equipped with ultrasound, laser microphones for hearing at long distances, a geiger counter, thermal sensor, radial sonar and motion sensors, selective sound filters, spatial recognizers. It even has a balance-assist system, and long-range wireless communications.¡± ¡°Alright, that sounds pretty cool,¡± I said. ¡°How much?¡± ¡°Seventy-five points. The installation requires that your head be uncovered,¡± Myalis said. ¡°You may feel a slight tingle atop your skull.¡± I weighed the options back and forth for a bit. I didn¡¯t feel that more sensory stuff was pressing, exactly, but on the other hand, it was probably something similar to armour. I didn¡¯t need it until I did, and then it might be too late to ask for it. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s do it,¡± I said. New Purchase: Mark III Twin Ears Points Reduced to... 8437! My head did tingle, and I felt my... hair moving? I was reaching up to investigate when the world exploded into sound. Not overwhelming noise as I might have expected. No, it wasn¡¯t that. The world just became incredibly... clear. I¡¯d once switched from shitty in-ear buds to a proper headset, one that another orphan outside of the kittens had splurged on, and the difference in the sound had been wild. This put that to shame. I could hear everything. The kittens fighting a ways away, the thumping of feet below us, air vents shifting above. The elevator was a low rumble, and Lucy¡¯s heart was a steady twin-beat in the background. ¡°Whoa,¡± I said. My voice sounded... well, it was still my voice, but it sounded more, somehow. Lucy made a little squeaking sound, one that I heard loud and clear. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. I looked over her way, only to see her grinning like mad and pointing at me... and something above me. I reached up. My questing fingers bumped into something, something that seemed quite firmly attached to my skull. Something that moved. Turning, I rushed over to the bathroom, every step sounding very loud. I didn¡¯t need to, of course, I had a sort of sense of the world around me that I¡¯d never had before, but I still had to see. ¡°Myalis, what the fuck?!¡± I asked. Standing nice and proud above my head was a pair of metallic cat ears in a familiar dark blue. The interior was black, with a pink dot in the centre of each ear surrounded by a faint pink-ish glow. ¡°It¡¯s a very advanced sensor suite,¡± Myalis said. ¡°You gave me weeb ears!¡± I said. Lucy clapped. ¡°They fold back when you¡¯re mad!¡± she cheered. I looked over to the mirror to see that they did, indeed, fold back. ¡°What the hell Myalis?¡± ¡°Cat,¡± Lucy said. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t talk to Myalis like that, she¡¯s trying to help you.¡± ¡°I am,¡± Myalis agreed. Lucy hugged the faux-cat closer. ¡°Plus I think they look cute.¡± She smiled. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind something to nibble on, sometimes.¡± I felt myself flushing again, then stalked off into the bathroom to pick my jacket out of the shower. The water had been enough to soak most of the dried up alien blood and soot from it. ¡°Shower, dry,¡± I said, then I waited a few minutes, ears peeled to the sound of Lucy talking the next room over. ¡°You really should have shown her what they looked like,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Perhaps. But then she would have likely refused them. And I¡¯m afraid that without additional systems like those, she might hurt herself,¡± Myalis returned. ¡°And there wasn¡¯t a single system that didn¡¯t look like cat ears?¡± ¡°... Perhaps. But these are the most amusing.¡± ¡°Myalis,¡± Lucy said with the same warning tone I¡¯d heard her use so often on the kittens. ¡°Cat is a very sensitive soul. You need to be careful with her. She¡¯s all soft and gooey under that hard outside.¡± I glared at the shower. I wasn¡¯t sensitive. ¡°I am aware,¡± Myalis said. ¡°Perhaps I can tone it down a little. Though it is still greatly amusing to embarrass her.¡± ¡°It really is,¡± Lucy agreed. ¡°Oh, speaking of, do you have scarves?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I grabbed my jacket from the shower, waved it around a bit to push off some of the last drops still clinging to it, then barged back into the bedroom. ¡°What¡¯s this about scarves?¡± I asked. There were about two dozen of them hovering around Dumbass the First. Holograms, obviously. Lucy smiled at me, then gestured to all of the cloth around her. ¡°This makes buying clothes a lot easier,¡± she said. ¡°We could never afford clothes,¡± I pointed out. ¡°You can now,¡± she said with a shit eating grin. I crossed my arms. ¡°What makes you think I¡¯d buy clothes for you?¡± I asked. ¡°I bet Myalis can get some really comfortable lingerie,¡± Lucy mused. Internally, I cursed Deus Ex for giving me a stupid mission that would drag me away for so much as an hour. ¡°M-maybe later,¡± I said. ¡°I think this one, but in pink, like the colour around her arm,¡± Lucy said as she gestured to one of the scarves. ¡°Really?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s one point,¡± Lucy defended herself. I rolled my eyes. ¡°Fine.¡± New Purchase: Plain Cloth Scarf Points Reduced to... 8436! The packet with the scarf appeared next to Lucy, and she was quick to open it. ¡°Ohh, silky,¡± she said as she got to her feet, Dumbass scurrying off her lap in a hurry. She placed the scarf around my neck, then used it to pull me into a kiss. ¡°Come back safe, alright?¡± she asked. I leaned into a second kiss. ¡°I will,¡± I said. ¡°The Dumbasses will stay here, just in case.¡± She nodded, then turned me towards the door before giving my rear a smack I barely felt. ¡°Go be a hero,¡± she said. *** Chapter Eight - Hover Chapter Eight - Hover ¡°The great selling point of hovercraft was the lowered traffic. That was, until someone realized that a complete lack of oversight was an absolute disaster. So the bureaucrats came in. They set height and speed limits, created avenues and aerial roads. They created new departments specifically to regulate traffic in the air, then commissioned new companies to act as police forces. New permissions had to be handed out to EMTs and police and paramilitaries so that they could use the roads too. Soon, the air roads became just as clogged and congested as those on the ground. New roads were added atop them, ones that required special permits, or that were policed by private corporations that purchased the airspace and sold traffic rights for an exorbitant price. Now a businessman can get across the city in mere minutes, while the middle class wait in traffic, and the poor have to contend with the ultra-violence of the ground and what few public transit systems that are still in place. Our stratified society became far more literal.¡± --Alex Begler, The New Air Race, 2034 *** I stepped out of the penthouse while adjusting my new scarf. A scarf shouldn¡¯t have worked to tie together my rather eclectic outfit, but somehow it did. It probably helped that just about everything was a mix of the same three or so colours. It made matching things easy. I moved past a cleaning android and towards the elevators while adjusting Whisper over my back. I wasn¡¯t expecting to find two guys in the hotel¡¯s livery standing by the elevator doors. ¡°What¡¯re you guys doing here?¡± I asked. They looked at each other, then one cleared his throat. ¡°We¡¯re with the hotel¡¯s security, ma¡¯am. Just making sure there are no more intrusions like this morning.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°Well, that¡¯s nice.¡± People doing nice things for me just because? That was going to take some getting used to. I¡¯ve called the elevator up. We¡¯ll have to find a way to get to Katallina¡¯s last known location. It¡¯s not within walking distance, and I suspect that there will be some barriers along the way. I nodded, not wanting to make a fool of myself before the guards. The elevator rose, clearly audible thanks to my new ears, and I stepped into it before turning around to face the exit. A moment or two after the doors closed, I heard one of the hotel guys muttering to his friend. ¡°She¡¯s scary.¡± ¡°Scary but kinda hot,¡± the other said. I rolled my eyes as we started to descend. ¡°Where was she last seen?¡± I asked Myalis. Her last known location was in the orange zone of yesterday¡¯s incursion. That area has returned to being a green zone as of this morning. ¡°Am I likely to run into some aliens?¡± I asked. I could probably use a few more points. Statistically unlikely. ¡°Well, that¡¯s no fun,¡± I said as the elevator slowed to a smooth stop and its doors opened to the hotel¡¯s lobby. I hadn¡¯t really taken much time to look around the night before. It was a bit hazy. I remembered getting out of a car that Speedy the Clenze soldier drove over, then a minute later I was falling asleep on a comfortable bed. Now I could take in the big marble pillars and the holographic modern art sculptures and even the people moving about. There was something about the rich that made them stand out. Not just the expensive as hell clothes, but their demeanor and way of moving. The women all wore impractical gowns and looked like they could be on a catwalk. They were showing off body mods that probably cost more than what most people made in a lifetime. The men were no better. Some in suits and ties, but the really rich wore clothes meant to look casual at first glance. They didn¡¯t need to wear a suit, because they were so important that the traditions would bend over backwards for them, not the other way around. By contrast, the hotel staff all look like they had twice daily applications of sticks up their asses. They were uptight and servile and looked and looked like they were dead inside. I stepped out and felt a few eyes turning my way. The pretty woman taking in my half-burnt features and lanky hair, then realizing that my looks didn¡¯t matter because I was carrying a fuck-huge rifle. Really, all those shows Lucy and I had watched as little girls telling us we had to be pretty never mentioned that you would get just as much positive attention from carrying half your body¡¯s weight in guns around. It was with a smug little grin that I cut past a line at the front of the lobby and stationed myself right in front of the only human behind the counter. The other rows had androids, and far fewer people waiting. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. The young woman behind the counter blinked, then smiled through the transparent mask over her mouth. ¡°How may I help you, ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°I need a taxi,¡± I said. She nodded. ¡°Of course. We have an in-house taxi service available right outside the main entrance. You only need to flag down one of our valet¡¯s... I¡¯ll call ahead for you, if you want.¡± That was handy. ¡°I¡¯d appreciate that,¡± I said. ¡°Thanks!¡± I crossed back to the middle of the room, then looked around. You¡¯re lost, aren¡¯t you? ¡°Just a bit,¡± I said. A large red arrow appeared in my vision, and then because Myalis was being a pain in the ass, a dozen more arrows appeared around that one, all pointing towards a doorway out across the room. I... could probably have found it just by listening to the traffic, I realized as I moved closer. Stepping through the airlocked entranceway, I found myself next to a tunnel built into the side of the building. There was a car dispenser, basically a lift where you could park a car and it would be stored somewhere deeper in the hotel, and a few more impressive cars were parked out front where they were plugged in to recharge. ¡°Miss Samurai?¡± An acne-faced valet asked as he moved over. ¡°Um, you need a taxi, miss?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Got anything?¡± ¡°Yes, of course,¡± he said. ¡°Could you wait here for just a moment?¡± I nodded as he pulled up a tablet and pressed a few buttons. One of the dispensers rumbled up, cars flashing by as they rotated past, then a small yellow hovercar drove off the system and floated its way over to us. The valet and I both stared at the little yellow clown car. ¡°I... can order up something, um, better,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s self-driving?¡± I asked as I looked inside. It had two pairs of two seats, both facing the middle where a little table sat. No controls that I could see. ¡°It¡¯ll do,¡± I said. I wasn¡¯t looking for anything fancy anyway. The boy (who was probably older than me, but he had a spine like a wet towel) opened the back door for me. I tossed Whisper in, then contorted myself into the seat. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said before he shut the door. I had to shift to accomodate my tail a bit, but it wasn¡¯t so bad. ¡°Now... how does this work?¡± You have no public record of using one of these that I can find. It¡¯s meant to connect to your augmentations, then drive safely and securely over to a destination you specify. The cost is extracted from your credit account based on mileage, plus service fees, membership fees, special fees, local taxes, and a few other price gouging techniques. ¡°Uh huh,¡± I said. ¡°I spent most of my credits on a sandwich yesterday,¡± I said. Your purchase was reimbursed, actually. Your current total would... not cover the re-parking fee. ¡°That¡¯s... annoying.¡± I¡¯ve hacked into the vehicle¡¯s controls. Or rather, I did so before you stepped out of the hotel. My eyes narrowed. ¡°Are you the reason I¡¯m in this tiny thing?¡± We¡¯re taking off now. ¡°You didn¡¯t answer the question, Myalis!¡± I said. Any further conversation was cut off when the hover car took off with a lurch, cut off some fancy car, then shot out into the sky. There were roads, with plenty of midday traffic flitting through the smoke let out by smokestacks and the low-hanging smog clouds that were drizzling down a haze of rain that smacked the car¡¯s windows, but Myalis didn¡¯t seem to care about such trivialities. We didn¡¯t merge into the traffic flows, or slide into one of the far more expensive express routes. Instead Myalis shot out across the city at a diagonal. ¡°This can¡¯t be legal,¡± I said. It isn¡¯t. ¡°Uh,¡± I said. It¡¯s not as though traffic laws apply to us. Most traffic enforcement vehicles ping off of any law-breaking hover car¡¯s onboard computer to make it come to a stop. I can merely tell them that this vehicle has been commandeered by a Vanguard. ¡°And what¡¯s stopping anyone else from doing the same thing?¡± I asked. Superior coding. That, and on occasion traffic police will nonetheless chase down a Vanguard¡¯s vehicle. It usually ends in disaster. In this case though, our flight plan is bringing us directly into a semi-active incursion zone. There¡¯s nothing for them to worry about. I settled into my seat, one foot pressing against the table in the middle to keep my in place. ¡°Nothing to worry about,¡± I repeated as I worried. Chapter Nine - Twitchy Chapter Nine - Twitchy ¡°In this three-part summary, we will explain the historical precedent for the fall of global powers after the first Incursion. There were three, arguably four, major economic and military powerhouse nations on Earth. The United States of America, Russia, China, and by some reckonings, Germany. By 2030, the three most powerful of these nations no longer existed in a form people prior to 2020 would recognize. The fall of the United States was rather abrupt for some, though others had predicted it for some time. The nation, after years of turmoil, broke apart and might have fallen into civil war if not for the intervention of some key players. The reversal of Roe v. Wade, the increased power of increasingly-religious authorities in some regions, the crash of the federal economy, increased tensions between growing minorities and the police, and the rise of a third ¡®corporate¡¯ party, all hastened the demise of a once powerful nation into a mess of nation-states with their own laws and regulations and animosities.¡± --A History After the Drop, Online Lecture by Professor Sterne *** The amount of traffic on the immediate edge of the incursion zone was surprising. I expected people to keep away, but might have been giving them too much credit. Not that it truly mattered. We shot right past an aerial barricade manned by a few police chasers and deeper into the city without so much as twitching. I saw a cop¡¯s head snap around, but no one followed us, so I figured we were safe. It was eerie flying through a city with no cars moving around at a snail¡¯s pace, the lights in most towers completely off, and the smog layer above broken in a few places to reveal the sky above. I found myself taking things in through the rainbow-wet sheen of the windscreen. We weren¡¯t moving towards the centre of the incursion zone, but rather skirting along the edge. Right over here. The little taxi started to slow down while rising up. Floors flashed by, and huge unlit billboards for healthcare insurance and the newest shoes moved by until we levelled off and turned into an open parking garage. The place was only lit by a few dozen red emergency lights, enough to make out a lack of parked cars and a whole lot of empty space. Myalis parked in the middle of the lot, coming down with a faint lurch before the hovercar¡¯s engines whined to a stop. ¡°This is it?¡± I asked. The door next to me opened with a hiss. Yes. This is the place. Our subject was last seen two floors down. I stepped out, pulled Whisper along behind me, then looked about for anything interesting. I could hear all sorts of things. Metal ticking, the patter of the rain outside, the humming of some ventilation systems and old neon lights. Nothing that sounded alien, or alive. I tucked Whisper up against my shoulder, then thought better of it and slung the crossbow over my back. ¡°Let¡¯s head out, then,¡± I said as I pulled out my Trench Maker, still loaded with some highly flammable high-explosive .45 rounds. Probably more handy in the tight confines of a building than my crossbow. Elevator access is to your right. Following Myalis¡¯ instructions brought me to an elevator that opened as soon as I got close to it. ¡°So, do you have a plan, because I know fuck all about finding lost people. I¡¯ve seen a couple of police procedurals, but I don¡¯t think those count.¡± The building¡¯s camera and security network is on a closed circuit. Part of it is stored online, hence why the other Vanguards found what they did, but the rest is better secured. I could break in, but there might be physical shut-offs. I think the best solution is to search around the area where Miss McCarthy was last seen, then find out where the security system is actually stored to verify what we can. I stepped into the elevator and hummed along to the shitty auto-generated music. ¡°Sounds good,¡± I said. The doors opened again when I was a couple of floors down, and I stepped out into a long corridor lined with doors that had little numbers on them. Most of them were torn open already, lying on the floor off to one side, or just left open. All the junk on the floor hinted at why they¡¯d been opened, as did the noise of people moving deeper in the floor. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°What the hell?¡± I muttered as I brought my Trench Maker up and started walking down the passage. A glimpse into one of the little apartments showed a tiny little home. There was a kitchen-living room combo, with a little office space at the back missing any computer hardware. Another smashed open door inside showed a bedroom hardly bigger than the queen-sized bed within, with a little bathroom next to that. The entire thing didn¡¯t take up half the space of the bedroom Lucy and I shared the night before. A picture on the wall showed off a family of five. Three kids and their parents. It was a bit small for that many people, but seemed pretty standard for a middle-class home. I kept moving, passing more and more apartments with doors torn off hinges and interiors ransacked and emptied of anything valuable. Printed pictures and the like were left behind, but it was obvious TVs had been torn off walls and computers were missing from desks. Some of the apartments had little two-by-two windows looking out onto the smog. Those were probably a bit pricier. I started moving along at a faster pace, ignoring some of the apartments in favour of making better time towards the end of the corridor where I could still hear someone... multiple someones, moving around and grunting. The moment I came around a corner I found myself facing a group of men in overalls and bulletproof vests manhandling a battering ram into a door. Behind them was a long cart, stacked full of computers and screens. One of them, an obvious lookout, screamed something incoherent on seeing me, raised up a little SMG, and pulled the trigger. I dove back around the corner just as a wild spray of bullets tore holes into the wall across the corner. ¡°What the hell!¡± I shouted back. ¡°Th-this area is under the, uh, control of the NMS and R group!¡± one of them called back. I pressed my back against the wall while my heart calmed down a bit. I hadn¡¯t been hit, and my hearing was fine. That was a start. I could hear six distinct heartbeats just around the corner, and more idiots moving farther away. ¡°Who the fuck are you?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯re trespassing on corporate territory!¡± someone else called out. ¡°Come out with your hands in the air and all weapons dropped. All goods on your person are forfeit. Prepare yourself for fines and imprisonment!¡± From what I can tell, the NMSR is a group of post-incursion scavengers. They are here legally. ¡°Wonderful,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯ve been emptying people¡¯s houses?¡± That is what they do. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m coming out. If I see any of you with a gun pointing my way, you¡¯re dead. I¡¯ve got some new weapons I haven¡¯t tested out yet. You don¡¯t want to play guinea pig.¡± Myalis got the hint, because my shoulder-mounted guns unfolded and came to a rest beside my head. The railgun to one side, plasma caster on the other. ¡°Threatening us won¡¯t do anything. Come on out right now!¡± I could hear them moving around, placing the cart between us and bringing guns to bear. ¡°Myalis, can you send them a nice warning?¡± With pleasure. There was a long moment of silence, only faster heartbeats filling it. ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± one of them whispered. I turned around and waved out the side with my mechanical arm. ¡°Hey guys, how about you lower those and we won¡¯t have ourselves a mess?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m sure your insurance premiums would be much lower if you don¡¯t add a suicide by Samurai on it.¡± ¡°It could be fake,¡± One of them whispered. ¡°It isn¡¯t,¡± I said. I could tell most of them had lowered their guns thanks to my weird ass echo-vision so I carefully moved out of cover, arms lowering so both hands wrapped around the handle of my Trench Maker. Six pairs of eyes locked onto me. They didn¡¯t seem all that enthused about the guns around my shoulders. ¡°So, which one of you just tried to shoot me?¡± I asked. Five of them glanced at the weediest guy in the lot who was shaking his head like a kitten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. ¡°Yeah, next time maybe, you know, don¡¯t just shoot random people?¡± I asked. ¡°Are, are you a Samurai?¡± One of them asked. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m here investigating something, and now,¡± I said with a growing smile. ¡°I have all of you to help me!¡± *** Chapter Ten - More Questions than Answers Chapter Ten - More Questions than Answers ¡°By 2020, China was well on its way to becoming the world¡¯s second superpower. By 2025, the country was in turmoil, plagued by economic instability (much of it caused by a global recession where many countries simply stopped importing goods), social unrest, and a growing feud between the ruling party and the few Samurai in the country. Most major shifts in global affairs past 2020 can be linked in one way or another to a Samurai, or a group of them, but China¡¯s near-collapse is the most obvious of these. In 2022, an incursion appeared over Fujian. The reaction of the government was, surprisingly, positive. By then many other global powers had their own Samurai, and China was looking forward to obtaining its own. The incursion went poorly, with the first mass appearance of Model Sevens. Someone, and it is still unknown who was responsible, authorized the use of low-yield nuclear weapons over the province. It secured a victory, but at the cost of nearly all local Samurai. In the following year, another pair of incursions appeared over the area: in Taiwan, and near Hong Kong. The Samurai born from these did not share an enthusiastic relationship with the Chinese government. By 2030, the area was governed by three countries, two of which were, and still are, under the protection of local Samurai warlords. The Democratic Republic of Hong Kong, the Independent Republic of Taiwan, and the People¡¯s Republic of China.¡± --A History After the Drop, Online Lecture by Professor Sterne *** I grinned at all the workers. ¡°Where¡¯s your manager?¡± I asked. It took all of a minute for some sweaty middle-aged woman to jog over to meet me in the same corridor I¡¯d almost been shot in. ¡°H-hello,¡± she said as she caught her breath. ¡°How can I help?¡± ¡°Well, first, you can explain what¡¯s going on here,¡± I said with a gesture to the workers behind her. They¡¯d stopped breaking into apartments and emptying them to stare at our little spectacle. ¡°We¡¯re checking the area for xenos, ma¡¯am,¡± the manager said. I stared at her, then at the cart laden with computers and televisions and tablets. ¡°Have the aliens been disguising themselves as PCs while I wasn¡¯t paying attention?¡± I asked. The woman straightened. ¡°It¡¯s within our charter to recover any valuables left in the area.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re not even tagging them or anything. There¡¯s no way that someone that lives here will be able to tell their stuff apart from anyone else¡¯s.¡± ¡°There are ways to recoup any lost belongings,¡± the woman said. She didn¡¯t look comfortable saying it, and it only took a second of meeting her eyes to communicate that we both knew how full of shit she was. ¡°You guys can leave the rest of the stuff where it is,¡± I said. ¡°And leave the cart too.¡± She hesitated. I could almost see the math working itself out behind her eyes. She was no doubt going to be losing a lot of credit with this, but I found myself with few fucks to give. ¡°I, of course, we¡¯ll clear out right away.¡± ¡°Good. Now, I¡¯m looking for someone. Myalis, can you send her a photo?¡± Of course. Consider it sent. The manager shook her head. ¡°Never seen her. One moment.¡± She had me nervous for a moment as she reached into a big pocket, but it was only to retrieve a tablet. Soon she was clicking through images. Faces, some bloody, others not. Most with their eyes closed, and all obviously dead. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I asked. ¡°One of our duties here is clearing out the dead. There aren¡¯t usually that many, but some xenos did make it over here.¡± I nodded. I¡¯d seen as much with what little footage of Katallina I¡¯d seen. ¡°You keep a catalogue of the dead?¡± I asked. She nodded absently while still scrolling past pictures. ¡°The dead, and their IDs if we can find them. I can¡¯t find anyone fitting the bill. The only person that looks about the right age is this boy.¡± She turned the tablet over so that I could take in an image of a boy, maybe Junior¡¯s age, with a nice set of augs and a face covered in dried blood. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Did you guys see anything suspicious?¡± ¡°No,¡± she said. One of the guys shuffled, and I turned over to stare at him. He froze up. ¡°I-I might have, uh, seen something?¡± he said. ¡°Spill,¡± I said. The man swallowed. ¡°We found bullet casings on this floor. Um, lots of them, near some dead antithesis. No guns though, and no bodies.¡± It could be just anything. Someone with a fancy gun or two that came out to help with the aliens came around. Or it could be Katallina. She had a gun on her in that little bit of footage I saw. ¡°Got any pictures or video of the casings and bodies?¡± I asked. He nodded and looked over to his manager. ¡°We¡¯ll send it to you as soon as it¡¯s processed,¡± the woman said. ¡°Good,¡± I said. ¡°We can all wait here while that happens.¡± She looked like someone that had just swallowed something sour. ¡°I¡¯ll... see what I can do,¡± she said before returning to tap at her device. ¡°It¡¯s a lot of data to sift through.¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure my AI can manage.¡± I¡¯d say that your faith in me is reassuring, but really, there are only a few terabytes to sort through. It¡¯s child¡¯s play. The woman reluctantly sent the file at me through an Aug-code that my fancy new gear picked off her screen and parsed through. This is interesting. Look at these. A screen opened before me, then a few more. One had video of a camera panning across a couple of Model Threes, all very dead, and down to a small pile of casings on the floor. The photos of the casings weren¡¯t all that helpful at first glance. They were a metallic-white, with no serial numbers that I could make out on them. I took a step back from the manager and frowned at the empty air. ¡°Could they be from the gun the girl was using?¡± They¡¯re not. Nor are these. A different set of images, this one of more dead aliens. The image zoomed in on a few casings left on the ground, all small and coppery. Standard 10mm armour piercing rounds. Not too common among human weaponry. ¡°That doesn¡¯t leave us with that many clues,¡± I muttered. No, but it is a start. I could perhaps trace these other rounds. I shook my head. ¡°It could be nothing. Let¡¯s find the security room first, we might be able to find something there.¡± I asked the very relieved manager for directions, then waved the scavengers off as I headed out towards the security rooms near the centre of the building. I could hear them arguing over whether or not to take the stuff they¡¯d been ¡®securing¡¯ or not. The consensus seemed that the few credits they¡¯d make after it was all sold wasn¡¯t worth annoying me over, which was nice. The security room, as it turned out, was little more than a closet tucked into a maintenance passage. The door was heavy, and had a pretty nice security system linked to it. It took Myalis more time to say something witty than it did for her to bypass it. I found myself before a shitty old desk with a pair of dusty screens before it. There was a minifridge in the corner, and an ashtray overflowing with used filters. Sitting down, I turned to the screens, then, realizing I knew nothing about what had to be done, turned to the fridge instead. There was a small bounty of energy drinks in there. You¡¯re really working hard on this mission, aren¡¯t you? I kicked back, legs crossing atop the desk as I examined two cans. One was Hyper Sucrose Extreme!, a special edition can with some anime figure on it. It had to be an import because the can didn¡¯t have any nutritional information other than ¡®fuckloads of sugah!¡¯ written in small text at the bottom. The other choice was some Boomerade. It had some silver-haired Samurai on its side giving me a thumbs up and occasionally winking. I stuck to the can with the anime girl on it. She was less creepy. A sip and a full-body shiver later, and I gestured to the screens. ¡°Have you found anything?¡± I asked. Myalis¡¯ response was a long suffering sigh. The screens came on, and I got to see the same video of Katallina running, though now from two angles. ¡°Do we have anything earlier?¡± I asked. All the cameras in the other areas of the building are defective and have been for some time. Maintenance logs claim that they were taken care of, but the evidence suggests otherwise. There¡¯s more. The footage sped ahead, changing angles every so often as Myalis changed cameras. I got to see the girl running, tears streaming from her eyes. The gun she had was definitely high-tech, more so than the raggedy clothes she had on. Her dog barked on camera, and jumped at a Model Three that was charging at her. I was nervous for a bit, until she gunned the alien down and called her dog back to her side. She seemed to be making good time across the building, no doubt racking up a few points as she went down one staircase, then another, meeting more aliens as she went. No stopping for new gear, not even when she paused to replace the magazine in her gun with one from a back pocket. Too nervous? In too much of a hurry? Maybe the adrenaline was in the way. This one is from this floor. The next bit was very familiar. Katallina running with her dog at her heels, Model Threes coming out behind her in chase. And then she ran into a group of three men in black uniforms. Full-face masks, armored padding, all in pitch black. They gunned the aliens down, then moved up to Kattallina who looked surprised for a moment. I couldn¡¯t blame her. She smiled, hope breaking through the tears at last, and pointed to something behind her. Then one of the men grabbed her and tossed her to the floor. The dog was kicked aside. Something was sprayed in her face, and she fought for a bit before going limp. They tied her up, then did the same to her dog, knocking it out and tying its paws together with straps. My feet dropped from the desk. ¡°What the fuck,¡± I said. That is certainly the right question to ask. *** Chapter Eleven - Nobodies Chapter Eleven - Nobodies ¡°Pre-2020 Russia was a military powerhouse with some economic issues and a growing sense of discontent in its lower classes. Russia post 2030 is a military powerhouse with some economic issues and a growing sense of discontent in its lower classes. Interestingly enough, despite being hit with the most incursions of any single country, Russia has changed few of its policies and methodology over the years. Its Samurai are generally worshipped and idolized as national heroes, and are given a fair amount of leniency and power in the nation as long as they don¡¯t cross certain lines. Its government is as corrupt and bribable as it has ever been, and a host of narcotics have joined alcohol in poisoning the downtrodden. It can¡¯t be said that the nation has prospered, but it has grown far more populous and despite some repeated disasters, has managed to cling onto its power through turbulent times. Its borders are the same, but the population has become hyper-concentrated around a few massive cities. Its military still uses machinery and equipment dating back to the last century, but they outnumber any other nation¡¯s man-for-man.¡± --A History After the Drop, Online Lecture by Professor Sterne *** Myalis, being the awesome AI that she was, tracked the movement of our men in black through the entire building. They had a pair of hover vans parked up on the same level I had parked at. Just a couple of small unmarked vehicles that slid in and waited while the other hovercar owners rushed out of the building in a hurry. We were able to spot them moving down a few floors, always using the stairs, always ducking out of people¡¯s way without ever actually saying anything. They had arrived within forty-five minutes of the incursion starting, and had reached Kattallina by the one hour mark. Five minutes later they were back in their vans and taking off to parts unknown. I looked at the images Myalis had picked out on the screens, one of each of the guys in black. There were two teams of four. Kattalina had run into one of them, the other had retreated right after. I could tell that some of them were women under the armour, but other than distinguishing superficial genders I couldn¡¯t tell anything about them. No skin showed, no hair, they wore darkened visors that hid their eyes, masks over their lower faces, and each camera they passed fizzed out and died soon after they appeared. Both teams had one member that wasn¡¯t as well armed as the others, a person with a large backpack with antenna sticking out of the top, along with obvious vents cut into the fabric. Judging by the glow behind their visors, and the stuttery way they moved, they were jacked into something. The team¡¯s tech specialist, maybe? ¡°I can¡¯t see any logos,¡± I said after eyeing the still a bit more. None are present. I¡¯m running their equipment through a list of manufactured goods. Most of it is standard issue for a few different paramilitary organizations, but none have their entire setup. I shook my head. ¡°Can you go over that again?¡± Their boots, for example, are used by six paramilitary organizations in North America. Their guns are used by eight. Their helmets by four. None of them are all used by the same group. Their equipment borrows pieces from many companies, but not from one single organization. Were they doing like the orphanage and raising some second hand mercenary store? ¡°What about their vans?¡± Rentals, from what I cane tell. From a local distributor, under a false name. All tags were removed, but one of the cameras by the entrance was able to see the serial printed on the corner of a windshield. Images moved around until I could make out a zoomed-in image of a window reflecting a finger-width serial code. ¡°Nice,¡± I said. ¡°Does it point us in any useful direction?¡± Unfortunately, no. I can¡¯t trace the credit information used. The bank they used to pay is secure enough that it would require more than a mere internet connection for me to slip past. I put ¡®calling the bank to ask nice-like¡¯ on my list of things to do. I leaned back into my seat, eyes idly following the motions of the group caught from odd angles as they made their way up while carrying a knocked-out girl and a dog with them. ¡°Why¡¯d they save the dog?¡± I asked. It was too much to imagine that they just didn¡¯t like the idea of hurting a dog. Not that people going around armed to the teeth, with no doubt legally dubious intentions during a crisis couldn¡¯t have a conscience. Something told me that I should probably assume that they weren¡¯t saints under those masks. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Maybe they¡¯re just not cat people. ¡°Was that a joke?¡± I waved it off. ¡°No, nevermind, I don¡¯t want to know. We... fuck, I don¡¯t know what to do from here.¡± Following them would be difficult. We don¡¯t have the resources on hand to see from every camera across this part of the city. I hummed as I thought. I didn¡¯t have that kind of power. Myalis was pretty good at tracking things, obviously, but she had her limits. My open palm smacked the desk. ¡°Longbow!¡± I said. The Vanguard? ¡°Remember? He had control of the cameras across the street from where we were yesterday. He said something about hacking into them.¡± I could likely do the same. Though it would be a rather big investment of points to obtain the equipment to crack every security system in the area. Perhaps drones to physically connect to each closed network? ¡°Can you call him?¡± I asked. One moment. I spun on the chair, letting it squeak left and right while I sipped at my drink and let the sugar do horrible things to me. My augs filled with a screen, one that filled up with an image of Longbow... wearing some sort of medieval archer cosplay? ¡°The fuck are you wearing?¡± I asked. The man grinned. ¡°Hey! It¡¯s my newest little sis! How are you doing Stray Cat?¡± I snorted. ¡°I¡¯m fine, big bro Longbow,¡± I said. ¡°But seriously, what¡¯s with the getup, and is that a codpiece?¡± ¡°Might be,¡± he said with far too much confidence for a guy wearing tights. ¡°I was in a game. What¡¯s up?¡± ¡°Like... LARPing?¡± I asked. ¡°What? No, I¡¯m in a game now. This is an avatar.¡± As if to prove the point he poked his own finger through his opposite hand. ¡°Just setting up for a raid.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. Longbow was a nerd. Duly noted. ¡°I was wondering if you could help me out. I¡¯m tracking down this girl, she¡¯s probably a Samurai. Really new. As in, like me, new. And she got kidnapped by some mercs.¡± Longbow frowned. ¡°That¡¯s fucky. What have you got on them?¡± ¡°Myalis?¡± Sending. I saw Longbow looking off to the side, little screens opening in the air before him then winking out. ¡°Nope, don¡¯t recognize them. Which is probably what they¡¯re going for.¡± ¡°Yeah. I need help tracking them down.¡± ¡°Using the city¡¯s cameras?¡± he asked. ¡°I could probably do that, but there might be a faster way. You ever hear of Dial-up?¡± ¡°You mean, like before fiber internet?¡± I asked. ¡°The one with the noises?¡± Longbow barked a laugh. ¡°Your age is showing. Right, so Dial-Up and Lag are this pair of Samurai that basically live online, they¡¯re jacked in at all times. No sleeping, nothing.¡± ¡°That sounds healthy,¡± I said. ¡°They invested a load of points into getting their brains jarred,¡± he said. I imagined that for a second. ¡°Why? And how would they fight off an incursion while in a jar?¡± ¡°They have tanks,¡± Longbow said. ¡°The jars are in them. It¡¯s pretty cool.¡± ¡°If... you say so,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re pretty much the end-all be-all of information brokerage online. Go give them a visit. They¡¯ll probably not charge you if it¡¯s for helping another little sister. Probably won¡¯t help you IRL, but what can you do? I¡¯m sending your Myalis the links to get to their place in Meshspace. If you need, like, a drone strike later, give me a call. I¡¯ve got a dragon to kill.¡± He waved me off, and I found myself staring at a wall with a poster of some woman wearing very little slapped over a server rack. ¡°O-kay,¡± I said. I¡¯ve received the coordinates to Dial-up and Lag. ¡°Can you call them?¡± One moment.... No. ¡°Uh, no?¡± From what I can tell at a glance, there aren¡¯t any direct traces of them online. All links end with a packet entering your cyber warfare system that politely informs you to stop looking. This includes Google searches. It¡¯s actually impressive. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound subtle.¡± I don¡¯t think it¡¯s meant to be. ¡°So, we need to go see them in Meshspace. This is starting to feel like a shitty fetch quest,¡± I said. You might have to get off your no-doubt comfortable seat and actually do some amount of work. How unfortunate. I let out a sigh, chugged the last of my energy drink, then left it on the desk. Someone could cash it in for a chit they¡¯d be able to exchange for another drink... if they collected a hundred. ¡°Let¡¯s go back to the hotel,¡± I said. ¡°If we¡¯re going to dive online, it¡¯ll be at home. Maybe I can use Lucy as a body pillow while I dive.¡± Your mind is a bizarre and terrifying place. Chapter Twelve - Doorframe Chapter Twelve - Doorframe ¡°The internet has existed in one form or another since the 1980s. Even before that, though that far back it¡¯s practically unrecognizable to what people now think of as the internet. Meshspace, a creation started by a small group of Samurai with the backing of IBM and Microsoft, was meant to be the next step in the evolution of the internet. A place where people who were ¡®jacked in¡¯ (that is, connected directly into the mesh via neural augmentations) could communicate, play, create, and express themselves. Within a month, it was a hive of advertisments and pornography. There have been major steps taken to police and regulate Meshspace, but as with the original (and still extant) internet, these have been met with ridicule or outright ignored. Now, the Mesh is a world of advertising, pornography, and vice. Truly an improvement.¡± --Extract from ¡°A History of the Mesh.¡± 2048 *** Myalis parked our little taxi right in the middle of the driveway of the hotel and opened the door with a whoosh of expelled air. I stepped out and stretched a bit while glancing around. I¡¯d left the last place in a bit of a hurry, only pausing long enough to make sure the scavengers had left all the shit that wasn¡¯t theirs behind. It would probably make the few people on that one floor happy. The only other thing I did was placing a digital warning at the door to Katallina McCarthy¡¯s little apartment. She shared a one-room apartment with her mother apparently, a mother that Myalis was able to confirm as dead. Anyone stopping by her place would get a pre-recorded message politely asking them to contact me, and then a pre-recorded threat that if they fucked with the place, I¡¯d be contacting them. Making threats was turning out to be a whole lot of fun. It was kind of cathartic. At the same time I was a tiny bit worried I might become an asshole... more of an asshole. I walked past a group of valets by the door, only acknowledging them with a wave before I was in the hotel. The moment I stepped in, about six different people from all over the lobby perked up and turned my way. Had it been only the one I might not have so much as noticed, but out of the fifty-odd people going about their business, six was just too many. ¡°Myalis, trouble.¡± I felt the guns on my back shifting. Not deploying just yet, but certainly getting ready to. I started towards the elevators, taking a circuitous route around part of the building where I¡¯d pass some partial cover behind glass-walled terrariums with some no-doubt exotic weeds within. The first of them cornered me just past that. His opening salvo came in the form of a bright, startlingly fake smile. ¡°Hello miss! I¡¯m a representative of Nimbletainment Inc, and I think I have just the deal for you!¡± It took half a second for that to register. ¡°Are you suicidal?¡± I asked, dumbfounded. His smile never so much as twitched. ¡°I¡¯m a retail salesman ma¡¯am, the answer to that question is a resounding yes. And I hope that your answer will be a yes too, but to an entirely different question! Did you know that Nimbletainment has a sponsorship program, exclusively for Samurai?¡± ¡°Uh, no.¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m leaving now, and... get help? Elsewhere. Please?¡± I circled around him, then jogged a bit to make it to the elevator. I think a few of them had the clever idea of joining me in a small, enclosed space for an indeterminate amount of time, because they started jogging too. One of the elevator doors opened, and a business woman started to step out. ¡°Myalis, door!¡± I said before I ducked down and scooped the lady off her feet instead of either shoving her back in or tossing her out of the way. She squeaked, and wiggled in my arms while the door clicked shut behind me. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said as I set her back down onto her heels. ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to pick you up like that.¡± She smacked me with her purse. ¡°I, I ought to sue you!¡± she said. Then she took a good look at me and the colour drained from her face. ¡°You¡¯re not a Samurai, right?¡± ¡°I am; a real sorry Samurai who¡¯d rather you didn¡¯t sue her,¡± I said. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. She huffed, then straightened her outfit out. ¡°Why were you in such a hurry?¡± I shrugged. ¡°Very aggressive, possibly mentally unhealthy salesmen?¡± Her eyes closed and she let out a sigh. ¡°That¡¯s fair. You¡¯re making me late to an appointment, you know?¡± ¡°Aw, well, shit,¡± I said. The doors opened again, and I recognized the floor the kittens were staying on. ¡°Sorry again,¡± I said as I slipped out and jogged past two new valet-guards. ¡°What a bitch,¡± I heard the woman mutter a moment before she poked at the button to close the doors. I sighed and slowed to a walk before stopping before the door to the penthouse. I knocked, just in case, then tried the handle. The door opened about an inch, then stopped on a chain. I hadn¡¯t known they had that kind of low-tech security on top of everything else. ¡°Coming!¡± I heard Lucy claim. She walked over, her gait a bit hesitant, like she wanted to run but wasn¡¯t sure. The door closed, the chain rattled, and then I was face to face with Lucy again. This time, when I swept a woman off her feet it was to giggles and a rather intense kiss that only stopped when my back started to hurt. ¡°You¡¯re heavy,¡± I complained as I set her down. She jammed a real hard finger in my ribs. ¡°Close the door. And maybe go stand on the other side of it, if you¡¯re going to be calling me fat.¡± I rubbed the flat of my hand against her not-at-all fat stomach. ¡°So chubby,¡± I teased. It earned me another poke in the side. ¡°Why¡¯re you here already? Did it go well?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Yeah!¡± Nose asked. ¡°Did you kill anyone?¡± ¡°Can we see?¡± Nemo added. I looked over and noticed our audience for the first time. About half the kittens were in the living room, and paying a bit of attention let me suss out the location of the rest in various rooms in the penthouse. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t, and if I did you couldn¡¯t see it,¡± I said. Lucy grinned and pulled me after her towards the kitchen island. ¡°So?¡± she asked. ¡°Went well enough. I have a lead to follow, so I¡¯m not quite done. Where¡¯s Daniel?¡± ¡°Daniel?¡± she asked. Then Lucy gasped quite dramatically. ¡°Did you misplace all your gayness and now you need a man in your life?¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°You¡¯re an idiot,¡± I said. ¡°I need to do a thing online. Figured he could help.¡± ¡°He¡¯s in the second living room,¡± she said. ¡°Want anything to drink?¡± I shrugged, accepted a can of some low-calorie crap that was no doubt subtle revenge for that fat joke, and then followed Lucy. ¡°Why does this place have two living rooms?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know, and I never want to leave,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Oh, look, no crutches.¡± She skipped ahead for all of two bounces, then slowed down with a huff so that I could catch up. She then used me as a two-legged crutch, confirming once and for all that all those times she hung off me before really were just disguised cuddling. ¡°You need to work on that some more,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m going to learn how to strut,¡± she said. ¡°And wear heels. Sexy heels that you¡¯ll buy for me, then take off.¡± ¡°Uh huh,¡± I said. I was more than willing to hear all about the heels I¡¯d apparently be buying her. We stepped into a smaller but still stupidly lavish living room to find Daniel on his back on one sofa, a bloody pile of toilet paper next to him and a cloth pressed to his face. He groaned as he strained his neck to look my way. ¡°Oh. Hey.¡± ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°So what happened to you?¡± ¡°Walking¡¯s hard,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s not fair. You see the Kittens running all over the damned place. Never stopping. Little shits making it look easy.¡± ¡°Daniel¡¯s been rediscovering his long lost relationship with gravity,¡± Lucy said. Daniel made a noise that could have meant anything. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°And all the blood?¡± ¡°Doorframe,¡± he said. I nodded. ¡°I need your help with a thing.¡± ¡°Does it involve walking?¡± he asked. ¡°No.¡± ¡°I¡¯m your man,¡± he said. ¡°What do you need?¡± ¡°I need to get into the Mesh to visit some folk.¡± ¡°You couldn¡¯t have come to a better place. Now go get my shit from my room because there¡¯s no way I¡¯m getting off this couch.¡± *** Chapter Thirteen - I Have Paws Chapter Thirteen - I Have Paws ¡°The Mesh is love. The Mesh is life. You don¡¯t need a real body, you don¡¯t need to feel pain, you don¡¯t need to worry, not when you¡¯re in the Mesh. It¡¯s the perfect world, where everything is, at its base, truly fair. Everything you could possibly want is a twitch away. Is it any wonder those of us who live by this oasis don¡¯t want to leave our little matrix of friends and foes?¡± --Anonymous Mesh user, 2049 *** ¡°So, there are two ways to dive into the Mesh,¡± Daniel said as he sat up and bunched his legs beneath him awkwardly. ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± I said. ¡°No, you don¡¯t,¡± he countered. ¡°Now shut up and listen to daddy Daniel.¡± I blinked from my spot on one of the fancy reclining couches across from him. It was a big seat, made for one person to lounge back in, and with a load of controls for positioning and such in the arm. Lucy, of course, was currently crushing me with her bony behind while playing with my mechanical arm¡¯s fingers. My other arm was wrapped snugly across her waist. ¡°Daniel, the day I call you ¡®daddy¡¯ is the day you die.¡± ¡°Of like, pleasure?¡± he asked. ¡°I could buy a taser,¡± I mused. "Maybe some sort of automatic whip that hears people talking shit and just slaps them for it?¡± ¡°Oh, fuck off,¡± Daniel said. ¡°Fine, no need to call me daddy. Maybe Big D?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve seen you naked,¡± I pointed out. ¡°It¡¯s horrific, and anything but big.¡± ¡°You wound me,¡± he said. ¡°I could find someone else to show me this shit you know?¡± I asked. Daniel grinned back. ¡°Fine. So like I was saying before you threw a snit over my nicknaming choices, there are two kinds of dives in the Mesh. This shit¡¯s not the internet where you¡¯re just skimming the surface. There¡¯s mid-diving, which is slipping into the Mesh with normal aug-gear. You see stuff, and you can manipulate objects in-Mesh using whatever controls you have installed.¡± I nodded. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s the internet as an MMO, I know.¡± He nodded. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s normie shit. A Full dive, a deep dive, that¡¯s something else. You need much better mods for that, and it locks your body up. Moving shit in your head moves things in-Mesh. I think you¡¯ve tried that at school, yeah?¡± ¡°I remember that,¡± Lucy said. ¡°We had to wear that hat with the little nubs. You could still move around though.¡± ¡°A shower-cap, yeah,¡± Daniel said. ¡°That¡¯s low-level though. Real pros, real divers, they have some crazy ass gear that lets them go deep. It turns off your body, kinda like when you¡¯re asleep. Try not to wake up before your brain realizes it. Sleep paralysis is freaky as shit. Had to replace one of my augs cause I kept getting stuck in between for a few minutes at a time.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Was that when you paid Nose to slap you every morning?¡± Daniel frowned. ¡°Little shit kept slapping me for weeks even after I replaced the faulty aug.¡± Lucy and I chuckled for a bit. ¡°Alright, alright. So I¡¯m just going in to meet some people. I don¡¯t need to go deep dive, right?¡± Daniel¡¯s expression shifted a few times. ¡°I mean, no, but yeah. Mid-dives are cheap. You need to do it sometimes because you don¡¯t have the time and place for a full dive, but to people that are always jacked into the Mesh, that¡¯s like, I don¡¯t know, showing up to a wedding in jeans and a tank-top instead of a suit. It¡¯s lazy normie mode.¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°Myalis, you¡¯ve got some cheap full-dive gear?¡± Cheap? No. Inexpensive? Yes. A ten-point Full-Dive Module augmentation should be all you need, especially since it would connect to your Mark II Cyberwarfare Augmentation. ¡°That sounds good enough,¡± I said. ¡°Lucy, are you coming with?¡± ¡°Hmm? No, I need to keep an eye on the kittens. You know how they get when they think no one¡¯s watching them.¡± They¡¯re currently attempting to capture your Dumbass drone with a laundry basket. ¡°Oh-kay,¡± I said. ¡°Just don¡¯t do anything too kinky while I¡¯m out of it,¡± I said. Lucy pouted. ¡°But what if I really want to?¡± I pulled her close and pecked a kiss on her cheek. ¡°Just a little then,¡± I said. ¡°Daniel, how do we meet up in the Mesh?¡± ¡°Uh, I¡¯ll send you an address. Shouldn¡¯t be hard to meet, we¡¯re diving from the same local net, that¡¯ll place us in the same area.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. New Purchase: Full-Dive System Points Reduced to... 8426! This might feel like you¡¯re sneezing backwards. ¡°Huh?¡± I asked. And then it hit and my head bounced back and I felt my nose scrunching up. ¡°Oh, oh fuck that¡¯s weird,¡± I said a moment before the weird tingling in my head shifted. I sneezed. ¡°Oh, eww, Cat what the fuck!¡± Lucy said as she jumped off my lap and touched the back of her head. ¡°That¡¯s disgusting.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s Myalis¡¯ fault.¡± I rubbed at my nose and pretended not to see the look Lucy was giving me. It really isn¡¯t. ¡°Disgusting,¡± Lucy repeated. ¡°I¡¯m going to find some towels and look at the kids. You two stay safe,¡± she said. I waved her off, then turned to Daniel with a sigh. ¡°Was that how you usually flirt?¡± he asked. ¡°Fuck off,¡± I said as I leaned back. ¡°Let¡¯s just dive, alright?¡± I poked at the controls on the seat and tried to settle in comfortably. My back-mounted guns made it a bit awkward, but I was way too lazy to get up and remove them. Daniel kicked his legs out until he was laying flat on the couch, shifted a bit until he looked comfortable, then yawned. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m the metal tentacle squid.¡± ¡°Wha--?¡± I began. Initiating dive. The world flickered and faded away. I bat my eyes open and found myself in a familiar lobby. Large marble pillars, a few terrariums, a wall with a revolving glass door at once end. The big difference were the signs floating above the lobby entrance and the front desk. The employees I could see were all standing unnaturally stiff in pristine hotel uniforms, and the other people in the lobby... Some were human, but they ran the gamut from supernaturally beautiful Barbie-dolls, to huge muscular monsters. Half of the people standing around were anime-esque figures, with large eyes and intricate clothes. Some of those moving around weren¡¯t human at all. Monsters, familiar characters from a dozen TV shows I¡¯d glanced at before, a few videogame characters. Their appearances ranged from almost normal, to downright impossible. The biggest issue was, of course, that all of them were way taller than I was. I looked around for some sort of point of reference and found a bench nearby. I couldn¡¯t even see past the top of it. My arms were... not arms. I had paws. One was a cybernetic thing, all blue-steel and glowing pink lights, the other was a raven-black and covered in fine fur. ¡°Myalis, you absolute bitch, did you turn me into a cat?¡± I thought it was on-theme. I stared at my paws, then looked around until I caught myself in one of the chrome surfaces around a bench. I was a cat. A cyborg cat. It was kinda cool. ¡°When did you even make this?¡± I asked as I spun around. It felt natural to move on all fours, which was so wrong that I couldn¡¯t even begin to express why I found it wrong. I think you¡¯re severely underestimating my processing power if you think it took more than a second to create your current avatar. ¡°And you made it a cat?¡± Yes. ¡°Because you thought it was on-theme?¡± And amusing. Your tail actually reacts to your brain¡¯s chemistry when you¡¯re irate. From what I know of human culture, you would be considered quite cute. ¡°I hate you,¡± I said as I started to paw at the scarf around my neck. Had she copied my entire damned look? I could make it better. Maybe a bow in your hair? By the way, Daniel is approaching you. I spun around--something made difficult by suddenly being built lengthwise as opposed to vertically--and took in the terrifying sights of a many-eyed mechanical squid thing floating its way towards me. If that was Daniel, then he was probably one of the biggest avatars in the room. Not in terms of mass, but because of his many tentacles, each ending in a claw that grabbed onto the ground around us as he came to a stop. ¡°Nice model,¡± he said. The voice was Daniel¡¯s, but with a distinct electronic twang to it, like a sort of flanging. ¡°I hate it,¡± I replied. ¡°What in the fuck are you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a Sentinel,¡± he said. ¡°From... oh, nevermind. It¡¯s classy, cheap, and has a lot of arms to grab stuff with. It comes in handy.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know, I have paws.¡± *** Stray Cat Sidestory: Canta Clause One Year Ago? I slammed my open palm against the entrance a dozen times in a row, each hit making the heavy metal door rattle and clang. My breath was leaving a trail of thin white fog in the air and I couldn¡¯t help but shiver under the buzzing neon light above. The street the orphanage was on wasn¡¯t actually much of a street. More an alleyway on the third floor of a pair of mega buildings. A fucking great name for what was basically two dozen tennaments all linked together and added onto by architects and engineers that were high off their asses. Some of the kids had videos on their media feeds of buildings just like this one collapsing under their own weight. They tended to have a hard time sleeping, but they couldn¡¯t help watching them over and over again. Weird little shits. I usually got past my problems by pretending they didn¡¯t exist. ¡°Open up, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡± I called out as I banged a fist against the door again. My shoulder was killing me from the sack hanging off it, and my stump was all itchy from the coarse simu-wool sweater I had on. I couldn¡¯t complain though. Lucy had forced me to wear it before leaving, and I didn¡¯t regret it. The weather had turned cold. Colder than my media feeds had said it would go. But then, those were always calibrated for the people living near the top of all the nicer buildings around. Closer to the ground, shit got a lot colder. I shifted, trying to find a way to get the bag hanging off my side to be more comfortable. ¡°Come on,¡± I muttered before stepping back. My shoes--a set of runners we stole from a bin in front of a used clothing store before they set up some cameras in front of the place. I was pretty proud of them--slid a bit across something wet and oily and I scrunched my nose against the smell. I looked at the panel next to the door and blinked a few times to get my augs to connect to it. The interface sputtered to life in the middle of my vision, then froze up. I force quit, then tried again. Then again. The third time I was actually able to connect. WELCOME TO THE FUCKING SHITTIEST PLCE EVR!! Our hours of operation a The rest of the screen was entirely empty, but I knew better. I twitched my eye to activate my cursor and aimed it down a ways to where the button used to be to accept. A few hundred bored kids with nothing to do, half of them with five generation old-gear, wasn¡¯t great for the local software infrastructure. I blinked over where the button used to be. The screen shifted. Please enter your login information: NAME: PASS: Complete the following puzzle: I sighed and hugged my arm across my chest and started rubbing my hand up and down over my jacket for warmth as I manually entered everything. The damned puzzle was some damned Voight Kampff rip-off with intuitive questions based on poorly rendered images. It hadn¡¯t worked to stop any decent bot in a decade, but it did work at slowing me down. The moment everything was done the screen flashed green. And then it crashed. ¡°Fuck!¡± I kicked the door. Someone moved behind it, the little hole in its middle darkening as someone looked out. Then the door opened at last and I found myself face-to-face with one of the older matrons. ¡°What are you doing out at this hour?¡± she asked. ¡°Freezing my tits off,¡± I said. ¡°Let me in.¡± She crossed her arms. One of those gig-workers that came in to replace what little real staff was left, getting paid half of minimum wage for a shit job. They only really did their job when it allowed them to look tough while treating the kids they were meant to care for like shit. I could hardly blame them, it was the only time they probably felt alive. ¡°What were you out doing? Whoring yourself out?¡± she asked. I rolled my eye. ¡°Like you? How much are you making an hour again?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not of your business,¡± she said. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Look, it¡¯s cold. Let me in.¡± Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. She huffed, then nodded to my bag. ¡°What¡¯s in that?¡± ¡°That¡¯s none of your business,¡± I said. ¡°Drugs? Weapons? All sorts of things could be dangerous to the kids.¡± She grinned. I turned the bag over, hard to do with just the one arm, then opened it up to reveal a dozen boxes inside, all covered in shitty 5-Dollar store wrappings. ¡°Gifts. Gifts for the kittens. Do you want to open them all up? Maybe while the kids are watching?¡± She eyed the boxes, then sighed and stepped back. I nodded and moved on past. The orphanage wasn¡¯t built to be an orphanage at all. It was actually about half an apartment level, with a few walls torn down and some of the rooms pushed open a little. The marks of where the walls had been were still left as bumps under the carpet, especially visible where it had worn through. There was a little lounge area at the front, with some nice toys and a few sofas. A spot that we were absolutely forbidden from entering except in the rare instance that someone came to see about adopting one of the brats. Deeper in was the dining room, a spot with three mismatched tables and a dozen chairs picked up from here and there, and then the orphanage split in two, one corridor led oof to the right, towards the nicer rooms, the kitchen, and the playrooms. That was where all the adoptable kids were. I went left. It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out why things were the way they were. The corporation running the place, with their off-brand caretaker androids and gig-working staff wanted to make a profit. That meant that they had to use their limited resources wisely. One of the older guys, one that had left a few months back actually, had explained it all to me. The kittens, the cripples, we were only so sellable. Damaged goods, basically. So trying to sell us was tough. The normal kids on the other hand? Yeah, clean them up, give them some last-gen augs, maybe let them take some online classes to catch up with the normies outside, and a prospective parent wouldn¡¯t hesitate as much to pick them up. We got used to the idea, after a bit. Still hard to explain it to the new kids. I knocked twice on the door to our communal area. ¡°Yo,¡± I said. The door swung open and I was tugged in by a grinning Lucy. ¡°Cat!¡± A few of the others cheered too, but they were shushed by the wiser kids. Didn¡¯t need the staff pulling the breaker on our room¡¯s lights. ¡°I got presents for you little shits,¡± I said as I swung the bag around with my hip. The door shut, and I grinned at the kittens as they got up and rushed over. Lucy pecked my cheek before stealing the bag. She puppy-dog-eyed everyone into line, then started handing things out while leaning on one crutch. The gifts were a bit lame. A toy car here, some three generation -old handheld console with an emulator there. But the kittens were laughing and whispering and looked happy for it. ¡°Nose, don¡¯t ruin your shit so soon,¡± I warned as I noticed the brat shoving a hand in his nose. ¡°And Smog, cough on your own stuff, not other¡¯s.¡± Lucy finished handing out the last thing, then made a show of turning the bag upside down. I grinned when she clacked her way back to me. ¡°I¡¯ve got a present for you too, you know,¡± she whispered. ¡°Oh?¡± I asked. She tucked her head into my neck. ¡°You¡¯ll need to unwrap me first though.¡± ¡°That sounds like my kind of gift,¡± I said. She snorted then leaned off of me to look at the kids. ¡°Thanks for getting everything.¡± I shrugged. Lucy was the one that planned it all. She¡¯d made a big fuss of shopping for stuff for everyone on our non-existent budget. I was just the one that went around fetching things. ¡°No problem,¡± I said. She smiled up at me, then grabbed my hand. ¡°Admit it, you like being all soft and caring.¡± ¡°Fuck no,¡± I said. She laughed and tugged me after her. ¡°Liar!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not!¡± I said with a laugh of my own. For that night, at least, our little corner of the world, as much as it smelled like mold and had too many of us cramped in together, was a happy place. Chapter Fourteen - Mesh Chapter Fourteen - Mesh ¡°The Mesh is a world onto itself, with communities and markets and entire micro-civilisations all packed into one somewhat united world running on code so complex and convoluted that no one human could do more than scratch the surface of it. It¡¯s not just ¡®the internet but more;¡¯ it¡¯s a whole new world, where with enough dedication, effort, and creativity, you can become someone entirely new.¡± --Anonymous, 2045 *** ¡°Alright,¡± Daniel said ¡°What¡¯s the address you need to head over to?¡± I spun around a few times, doing figure-eights beneath Daniel¡¯s huge squid body to get used to the motions of my strange cat-body... avatar thing. I was pretty sure I was completely messing up the terminology, and I was also pretty sure I didn¡¯t care. ¡°Myalis has it,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis?¡± Sending. You know, I do believe I could set a waypoint and guide you there myself. ¡°And would you be able to guide me without stopping by every virtual veterinarian shop along the way?¡± I asked. ¡°Nope, I don¡¯t trust you.¡± Oh, how awful it is that a Vanguard can no longer trust her AI. Would petting you restore your confidence? Perhaps some digital catnip? ¡°Now you¡¯re just fucking with me,¡± I said while glaring out ahead. Daniel spun around, legs twisting about behind him like, well, like a squid. ¡°You know, talking to yourself like that? Not all that great when it comes down to making you look sane.¡± ¡°I¡¯m talking to my dumb AI,¡± I said. ¡°Did you get the address?¡± ¡°Yeah, I got an email for it,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s in nyan speak though.¡± My eyes narrowed. ¡°What¡¯s nyan-speak?¡± The squid wiggled, and Daniel started to laugh. ¡°Nah, just fucking with you.¡± That was a good one. Do compliment Daniel for the joke, and thank him for the idea. I sighed a kitty sigh and sat down. For all that I was complaining about the avatar, it was still pretty neat, in an existential-crisis sort of way. I imagined that Lucy would very much approve of me being in this form. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. I could endure being a cat for a bit. It would maybe help if people underestimated me. And I was a cat person. ¡°So how do we get to Dial-Up and Lag?¡± Daniel spun around so that he was facing me with his many, many red eyes. ¡°That depends on a few things, but I think the fastest way to get to their district will be via the tube. There should be a station around here. If you have a few bucks we could use a wayport to the nearest station.¡± ¡°You know, I might be a Samurai and all, but I¡¯m still broke as fuck,¡± I said. Daniel¡¯s tentacles moved up and down in a gesture that I guessed was some sort of shrug. ¡°Fair enough. Want to follow me or should I carry you?¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound safe,¡± I said. All of his limbs were made of serrated bits of metal, and they ended in sharply-tipped grasper hand things. He even had a few weapons tucked away. ¡°This is a non-PVP zone. So¡¯s the tube. I could literally not hurt you if I tried. Weapons are off too.¡± He moved closer, some of his limbs reaching out for me. ¡°Do you have ride on?¡± ¡°Do I what?¡± I asked. Daniel sighed, a strange flanging note that still conveyed a lack of patience. I felt a bit like... well, like one of those older caretakers at the orphanage being shown how to use some tablet or app by the kittens and just not getting it. I was about ten years too young to be feeling that way. ¡°In your main menu, ah, it depends which company programmed your OS, but there should be a permissions menu to allow you to interact with other avatars. One of the options is ¡®ride.¡¯ It means someone can physically take and move your avatar. It¡¯s off by default most of the time because otherwise some clever bastards can basically kidnap you.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°You can virtually kidnap someone?¡± Again with the tentacle shrug. ¡°Sorta. There was a whole thing where scripted NPCs would grab players off the street and stick them in ad mazes. It was pretty annoying. Also, there were a bunch of scams, but that hasn¡¯t changed.¡± I reached up to scratch at my nose, then reconsidered when I took in my lack of hands. ¡°Right, sounds fucky. Let me find my menu.¡± A glance around showed me a lack of prompts or buttons or even a hub. I probably should have noticed that earlier. I¡¯d grown up with some sort of screen over my vision nearly my entire life, though since I¡¯d gone Samurai my hub had gotten a bit less obvious and yet a lot more complicated. I can bring it up for you, if you want. Or I could just control things for you. You won¡¯t have to worry about scams or viruses either way. ¡°Can I see it anyway?¡± I asked. Myalis obliged and a moment later a pretty standard menu appeared before me. It had tabs for the usual things. Graphics, interface, audio and so on. The difference to any other menu I¡¯d ever seen was the number of options available. Some of them were garbled messes of acronyms, others had nested sections that went four or five options deep. The scroll bar on the side (which looked like a cat¡¯s paw, because Myalis) was so small it was almost impossible to see. ¡°Okay, so maybe not,¡± I admitted. Playing around in the Mesh seemed far too complicated. ¡°Set Ride on.¡± It¡¯s on. ¡°You can¡¯t believe how jealous I am,¡± Daniel said. ¡°They have these little personal AIs that will do voice commands like that, but they cost an arm and a leg. Or you need to sign up for these really shit payment plans.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Float a bit lower, I need to get on you.¡± Daniel dipped down a bit, his... head part coming closer to the ground. I bunched my legs under me, then jumped majestically about half a foot off the ground before flopping onto my stomach. Could you do that again? It was amusing. I got back onto all fours, then bounced on the spot a few times. ¡°Okay, I can do that, but why can¡¯t I jump? I¡¯m a damned cat.¡± You can, actually. You¡¯re just really bad at controlling yourself. Daniel was shaking, and I suspected the bastard was laughing at me. My second attempt at jumping was far better. I made it to Daniel¡¯s head before finding no purchase on his metal skin and falling backwards and landing on my ass. He was outright laughing aloud by the time I tried a third time and made it on top of him. ¡°Stop laughing and tell me how to hang on,¡± I said. ¡°Just hang on as best you can,¡± Daniel said. Your feet can stick to things. Physics don¡¯t matter entirely in a digital world. I tried to raise an eyebrow at that, but all that happened was that the whisker-y things above one eye wiggled. ¡°Right,¡± I said. A bit of fiddling with my feet did have them sticking to the top of Daniel¡¯s body, so that was nice. ¡°That works. Okay Daniel, you¡¯re my valiant tentacle robot steed for the evening.¡± ¡°I might have to tell Lucy that,¡± he said. ¡°And please don¡¯t call me by my name. It¡¯s bad netiquette to use real names.¡± ¡°You have a stupid name, don¡¯t you?¡± I asked. ¡°Better than Stray Cat,¡± he said. I shrugged. ¡°Alright, fair enough. What is it?¡± ¡°404_Legs_Not_Found.¡± I looked down at Daniel, then snorted. ¡°You idiot.¡± He chuckled, tentacles wiggling for a moment. ¡°I thought it was clever. You know, apropos.¡± ¡°Get moving, Legs. We¡¯ve wasted enough time here.¡± *** Chapter Fifteen - Surfing Chapter Fifteen - Surfing ¡°You¡¯d think that in a purely digital world, where the constraints of the real world don¡¯t matter, the power of someone like a Samurai would be diminished. But no, just like the real world, there are some people with an unfair advantage. We need to put a stop to the tendency of these people to overload our servers, and shut down all of our ad-revenue.¡± --A. Pai, CFO of Adcorp on Dec 14th 2039, six minutes before his Mesh connection malfunctioned leading to his untimely demise. *** I rode atop my giant metal squid monster and enjoyed being carried. Not that I would admit it, but it was kind of neat to be so far above everyone else. Daniel, that is, 404_Legs_Not_Found, swam around a gathering of rather plain avatars--that all still managed to be gorgeous people--and I waved a paw at them when they tracked us with their eyes. ¡°They¡¯re not actually looking at you,¡± Daniel said as he moved towards the hotel¡¯s doors. ¡°Those are Barbies.¡± ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± I asked. ¡°They¡¯re standard avatars? You can get them in a cash shop for fairly cheap. They come with some customization and all that, like a character creator, but their programing¡¯s shit. Their eyes will follow anyone looking at them, but their user doesn¡¯t need to be looking that way.¡± He flicked out a metallic tentacle towards the side where a few other avatars were walking by, some with their own entourage of very plain people following them. ¡°You can tell the fully-custom jobs apart. Shit costs an arm and a leg though.¡± ¡°Neat,¡± I said. ¡°So what, it¡¯s a status thing?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°A real Meshizen wouldn¡¯t be caught dead in a prefab.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t your avatar a prefab?¡± He wiggled from side to side. ¡°Sorta? It¡¯s based on an actual squid model from like, ten years back? I got a friend who does modelling to set this model over the original squid skeleton.¡± I nodded. I almost understood that. The entrance had a set of sliding doors, not too dissimilar to the actual doors of the actual hotel we were still in. I was having a bit of trouble remembering that I wasn¡¯t where I was in the real world. It was just a bit too immersive, feeling wind against my skin... fur, and hearing things from all around. I had to remind myself that I was laying back on a couch in real life. The doors opened, and we slid through a thin blue transparent screen and out onto a huge balcony overlooking a city, of sorts. The problem with the Mesh--or one of them--was that it was such a surreal environment that it made my eyes want to cross. There were skyscrapers as far as I could see, some of them raising up, others dropping down from the ceiling. Some, the largest and most intimidating, connected the two. There were walls off to the sides, solid barriers with images and words scrolling by them just barely fast enough for someone to read them in passing. ¡°Have you been out in the Mobius a lot?¡± ¡°The what?¡± I asked. ¡°You know, outside of a structure?¡± Daniel said. ¡°If you keep travelling down the tunnel, you¡¯ll eventually flip back over to the other side. It¡¯s a mobius strip.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve been out here before. Never spent much time in the open though,¡± I said. A glance around showed car-like things shooting by. Half of them were plain, boring cubes or spheres, sometimes with scrolling ads on their sides, but a good chunk were shaped like spaceships and modern cars. I held myself back from flinching when a pair of X-wings cut around the corner. ¡°We¡¯re in the NA phase and it¡¯s mid-day, so it¡¯ll be busy as fuck,¡± Daniel said. ¡°We¡¯re taking the tube to, uh, lemme check...¡± I vaguely remember phases being a sort of unsynced copy of the world we were in, so that the millions of people around could all be in the same space without having to render or interact with each other. A glance over at the YouTube building a block or two down showed a sea of people slipping in and out of the thousand-odd entrances all around the stark-white building. I couldn¡¯t imagine what it would be like if everyone everywhere was in the same instance. ¡°Right,¡± Daniel said. ¡°They¡¯re on the... nice, the ISS phase.¡± ¡°The what?¡± ¡°The ISS phase, from when they converted that old space station into an oversized server rack? It¡¯s real classy,¡± Daniel said. ¡°Right, hang on.¡± Daniel started moving ahead, his dozens of reddish eyes clicking and moving around to stare around us. The hotel¡¯s balcony wasn¡¯t empty. There were a couple of kiosks to the side, and a bunch of people just kind of... standing around. The weird part was how quiet everyone was being. I guessed that we weren¡¯t sharing the same audio, because I saw some lips moving with no noise coming from them. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Daniel juked around a person that tried to smack him with a rectangular screen. ¡°Fucking ad bots,¡± he said. And then we were off the edge of the balcony and I felt something almost like gravity tugging us down. I held back a scream. This wasn¡¯t real, and even if we hit the ground, we were in a Non-PVP zone, we couldn¡¯t be hurt or anything. Daniel¡¯s tentacles wiggled and he aimed us towards the streets below. We shot past bridges and connections that were slung out between some of the smaller skyscrapers at speeds that turned them into little more than passing blurs. And then the ground reached out and met us with a dull thump. I braced, expecting to bounce, or maybe get flattened, but all that happened was the ends of Daniel¡¯s tentacles pressing harmlessly against the ground for a moment before we started to float up again. ¡°Was that a short cut?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah, but it only works one way,¡± he said as we took off again. The lower streets, surprisingly, had a lot more people moving by. Most were moving at a steady jog, sometimes clipping through others as they passed. Strange people with vacant looks in their eyes were flicking out fliers that some people batted away and others just allowed to smack them a moment before they disappeared. Two of Daniel¡¯s tentacles moved out ahead of his main body, and soon a pair of semi-transparent shields were floating ahead of us. ¡°Adblocks,¡± he explained. Daniel¡¯s avatar could float a decent ways off the road, so I had a good view of all the people we were moving past. There were a lot of the Barbies Daniel mentioned. In fact, it felt like three-quarters of the avatars we were passing were female, which was saying something when a good number of them weren¡¯t in any way biological. From robots, to weird geometric shapes, to monsters from different shows and games. I even saw a few Antithesis models moving about. The models didn¡¯t quite match up to the real thing. The sides of the street were lined with nothing but shops. Some were tiny, others much larger, and all of them were fake. Not fake in the sense that they were fake stores, but the entrances, I knew, would just lead into a fresh instance that belonged to that store. They didn¡¯t need to take up any actual space on the street. The bigger the storefront, the more the owners were spending for ad-space. ¡°There,¡± Daniel said as he beelined across the foot traffic and towards a large, stately building done up in a gothic style. It was surprisingly clean for what turned out to be a subway station. Maybe that was owing to the gargoyles on the roof that occasionally took off to tackle avatars away.


	Welcome to Uganda Sonic''s Portal Palace, Stray Cat!

I eyed the screen floating before me for a moment, then pressed a paw to the ¡®X¡¯ in its corner. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I asked. Unlike every other ad I¡¯ve been blocking, this one was sent by a fellow AI. This area is under the control of a Class III AI which is, in turn, owned by a Vanguard. There was no spyware or any other malicious content, just a greeting. ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°Are we supposed to... reply?¡± That would be polite. I nodded. ¡°Send something nice back?¡± I said before turning my focus back onto the world around me. The Portal Palace lived up to its name. It was a huge open area, like the ballroom of some fantastical castle. There were huge mirror-like surfaces against every wall, and through them I could see shifting scenes from different places, all of them moving as we moved as if those places were just one room over. None of that made any real sense though, the rooms I saw would all be overlapping and some seemed to be operating on different scales. There were lines of avatars waiting before the mirrors, each one waiting their turn to interact with a panel that changed the image in the mirror. Once someone pressed on their panel a few times, they¡¯d jump into the mirror and be off to who-knows-where. The number of rooms I saw that had vaguely pornographic images in them said lots. ¡°Let¡¯s find a place to port from, and then we¡¯ll be real close to your Samurai buddies,¡± Daniel said. *** Chapter Sixteen - It Chapter Sixteen - It ¡°You would be right to think that the Mesh is a full-immersion world, that being in the Mesh can trigger every human sense, from smell to balance and even the sense and perception of time. The Mesh can do all of these things. If you have the right gear. The issue comes with the steep price of that kind of gear. Most normal Mesh users are simple people, usually in first-world countries, and at middling incomes. That is to say, that even the middle-tier Mesh gear is above their standard paygrade, and most need to purchase their equipment on credit or with payments. Higher-end gear, the kind of equipment really needed to fully experience the Mesh? That can run for prices in the tens of millions of credits. More than a low-class person would make in a lifetime. Unfortunately, despite improvements in manufacturing and processing power, these set-ups are still beyond the average person¡¯s means. Mostly because the few companies making them want to keep the prices artificially inflated. That must end!¡± --Meshizen for a Better Tomorrow, public address 2050 *** ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Daniel said as he floated down a dimly lit street. There was no reason for the street to be poorly lit. It had just as many ¡®lights¡¯ along its sides as any of the other streets we passed. That had to be deliberate. It certainly gave a sinister cast to all the people walking along the sidewalks. I had to keep reminding myself that in one sense, none of this was real. Being a cat certainly helped with the unreality of it all. At the end of the street was the thing Daniel was talking about, the ¡®it.¡¯ It was a huge bulky building. Or maybe calling it a building was off, I wasn¡¯t all that knowledgeable about architecture, but a huge black cube without so much as a window on it didn¡¯t ping me as a building. The closer we came, the bigger it felt like the building was. It certainly towered above the street, just kind of there. The strangest thing was the absolute blackness of it. None of the buildings around it, all of them festooned in ads and neon highlights, reflected the building. It was just not showing up in any glass or anything, and its surface was pitch black, without so much as a hint of light splashing against it. It certainly left a mark. And yet it was smaller than a lot of the skyscrapers around it. Glancing up, I could see its opposite in the cityscape way above, just hanging off the ceiling like so many other buildings. ¡°So, is there an entrance?¡± I asked. ¡°Not really,¡± Daniel said. He started to slow down, and the reason was obvious. The road leading up to the building (because it was right in the middle of an intersection) veered off to the left and right, but never reached out to the building proper. Instead, there was a railing at about waist height and then a half-dozen meters of pavement before a sheer drop. From my vantage above Daniel¡¯s head, I could make out the lack of a bottom to the building. It was just floating there, without even the common courtesy of throwing a shadow. ¡°Freaky,¡± I said. Daniel stopped right next to the rails, and I realized that we had something of a berth around us. The other avatars were keeping their distances. ¡°Right past this,¡± he said while bringing a tentacle around to smack the rail. ¡°Is a PVP zone.¡± ¡°I thought you couldn¡¯t have those out in the open like this. I mean, outside of like, game areas.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± he said. I looked down, then smacked his head with a paw. ¡°And? How come there¡¯s one here?¡± ¡°Because the people in that said so?¡± he said while pointing to the building. ¡°This is, like, the place for all the cool hackers and crackers to hang out. Breaking the Mesh¡¯s code to have an illegal PVP zone on their doorstep was probably child¡¯s play for them.¡± I eyed the building up and down, then bunched my legs up under me. ¡°Right, give me a minute.¡± ¡°Serious?¡± Daniel asked. I answered by jumping off of him, over the rail, and landing on the pavement beyond with a bit of a bounce. I shook a little, setting the scarf around my neck to ruffling. With a wag of my new tail, I set off towards the building until a prompt appeared in the corner of my vision. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. YOU HAVE ENTERED A PVP AREA. How daring. ¡°Yup, that¡¯s me,¡± I said. ¡°So, uh, think we can send a message to the people in there?¡± I could. But you should maybe focus on dodging in the meantime. ¡°Dodg--oh shit!¡± I bounced straight up and narrowly avoided a searing red beam about the width of a thumb that passed right where I¡¯d been. Stay close to the building. I¡¯m sending a message over. ¡°Stay close?¡± I asked before leaping to the side. The beams--because they couldn¡¯t be satisfied with only one laser emplacement--were coming at me fairly slowly. Fastballs instead of lasers, basically. I jumped, then spun in mid-air to avoid a beam that tried to pin me at the apex of my leap. ¡°Myalis, are you sending anything?¡± I am. This place actually has some pretty decent cybersecurity. Though I suppose that¡¯s normal, all things considered. Nothing I can¡¯t bypass, of course, but it is taking me some time.¡± Time that I was spending trying not to get fried. The moment there was a pause in the rate of fire from the lasers I started sprinting as fast as my cat body could, beams spearing out and hitting the ground behind me as I went. They weren¡¯t even marking the ground or anything, but that didn¡¯t mean I wanted to be hit. Ah, there we go. And just like that, the lasers stopped. I slowed down and eyed the building, noticing for the first time the black-on-black turrets that were even then sinking back into the surface of the structure. I panted for a bit, then realized that I wasn¡¯t actually out of breath. ¡°Okay. Okay, no more lasers. I like that. What did they say?¡± They should be extending a bridge. As Myalis spoke, a small door opened in the side of the building and a glowing bridge flickered into existence leading up to the pavement not too far from where I was. I looked over to Daniel who was quick to jump the fence. Quite a few avatars behind him stopped to look, and there were suddenly a bunch of emotes floating in the air around them. ¡°You go in?¡± Daniel asked. ¡°Didn¡¯t know if they¡¯d lower the loser¡¯s door for you.¡± ¡°Loser¡¯s door?¡± I asked. A glance back at the opening revealed a little neon sign right above it with the word ¡®LOSER¡¯ on it. ¡°Ah, nevermind.¡± I shook myself one more time, resettling the weird clothes I was wearing, then started strutting over to the bridge. It felt cold-but-not under my paws, which was a bit strange. The moment Daniel and I slipped into the room at the top, the walls closed in behind us and we found ourselves in a small room. The walls were the same black as the exterior, but the floors and ceilings were grey, and recessed lights in the corners lit up the room from within. In the far end of the room was a barbie. It was a bog-standard avatar dressed in an off-white leotard. Even I recognized it as the default outfit, the thing that came with the plain model. ¡°Welcome to the Black Cube,¡± the avatar said in a feminine voice that sounded just a little bit off. A synth voice? ¡°Hey,¡± I said as I looked up to the Barbie. ¡°Are you the greeter here?¡± ¡°I am,¡± the avatar said. ¡°It is uncommon for the Black Cube to accept undeserving into its hallowed halls. Why have you come?¡± ¡°Undeserving?¡± I asked. Daniel shifted lower. ¡°That¡¯s because we didn¡¯t break in, or crack past their security. We basically cheated.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± the Barbie said. ¡°Yeah, well I¡¯m not here to show off any hacking skills,¡± I said. ¡°Not that I have any. I¡¯m here to talk to Dial-Up and Lag. I¡¯ve got some things to ask them.¡± ¡°Merely being a Samurai won¡¯t get you as far here as it would in the IRL.¡± The Barbie looked over its shoulder, then back to us. ¡°The Black Lords are busy. Can you state your business?¡± I considered telling the avatar off, but I was on their turf, and this wasn¡¯t a situation I could explode my way out of. ¡°There¡¯s a girl. Katallina McCarthy. She went missing during yesterday¡¯s incursion. She¡¯s a Samurai. She was kidnapped by some corpo goon types. I¡¯m trying to track them down. Longbow said you could help.¡± The Barbie locked up, no emotions showing on her too-perfect face for a long, long time. Then she blinked. ¡°Come with me. I¡¯ll lead you to them.¡± *** Chapter Seventeen - Dial-Up and Lag Chapter Seventeen - Dial-Up and Lag ¡°Pop Culture IS Mesh Culture. Memes are the currency of the digital world. It¡¯s a world where being a sweet-talker can get you further than having any amount of money, and when everyone is divided into cliques and little in-groups, a bunch of them with huge crossover to other groups, knowing the right meme to say at the right time is like passing the right code phrase along to make sure you really do fit in. It¡¯s chaotic, it¡¯s a mess, and it¡¯s fucking beautiful.¡± --Anonymous Meshizen, 2031 *** The Barbie led us through a paper-thin portal in a wall that opened up onto a catwalk. Below were dozens of cubes, each one with plenty of space to walk around them. And each face of the cubes led into a different space occupying the entire cube. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Oh, neat,¡± Daniel said as he spun his upper body around to see better. ¡°They¡¯ve got full non-euclidian here.¡± ¡°Please walk in the centre of the catwalk. It¡¯s the shortest path to the far end of the room,¡± the barbie said. I looked at the back of her head, then stepped to the side so that I was on the edge of the catwalk. Suddenly, the other two were shooting out ahead of me. Returning to the middle made the space between us shorter in a way that had my head twinging in pain. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Space doesn¡¯t need to obey normal rules in the Mesh. Gravity and inertia are the rules that we usually break. You know, like how I¡¯m floating right now,¡± Daniel said. ¡°But things like linear space can be messed with too.¡± ¡°Yeah, but why?¡± I asked. Daniel wiggled in a sort of shrug. ¡°Because it means having more space in less space if two things can be in the same space at the same time?¡± I shook my head, whiskers wiggling, and looked down again towards the cubes. There were people in them, some in very strange avatars. They were lounging around, others were typing on floating keyboards, and no two cubes were the same. ¡°Are those cubicles?¡± ¡°Not quite,¡± the Barbie said. ¡°If you can prove that you¡¯re worthy of being here, you get some cube space. What you do with it is up to you. Most just carve out a little space for themselves. Some turn it into an exhibit, others into an access port to some other place in the Mesh. We attract some very creative people here.¡± ¡°I can imagine,¡± I said. ¡°Gotta be creative to be a proper criminal, right?¡± The Barbie slowed to a stop, turned, and looked down at me without her expression so much as twitching. ¡°Is there a problem?¡± ¡°Uh, no? I¡¯m cool with criminals. I crime all the time,¡± I said. ¡°But seriously, I¡¯m just here to find some clues to save some girl. That¡¯s it.¡± ¡°The people here, the real hackers and crackers, do more good for society than you could imagine. We act as a counter to some of the most corrupt assholes in the IRL. We make medical bills disappear, send the wrong information to the right people, make R&D projects for some nasty shit fall through.¡± ¡°And yet the world¡¯s still a shit hole,¡± I said. ¡°Doing your part¡¯s nice, but that¡¯s not what I¡¯m here for.¡± ¡°You¡¯re here for a single person. How narrow.¡± I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m here because I¡¯m being... I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s blackmail, a bribe, or some sort of really fucked up favour, actually. Doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m here for my own reasons. Now are you going to bring me to Dial Up and Lag or not?¡± The Barbie looked at me with her pretty, vacant, baby blues for a moment before turning around and moving on. ¡°You¡¯re a real people person,¡± Daniel said. ¡°I was raised in a barn.¡± He slowed down a little more. ¡°Did someone piss in your cereal?¡± I huffed. I was in a bit of a poor mood. ¡°I¡¯d rather be home, with Lucy, than out here. Also, I¡¯m a cat. Also-also, this place just feels so wrong. I don¡¯t like it.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a reason to be... okay, so it is a reason to be prissy, but it¡¯s not a real good one. Maybe don¡¯t piss off the nice hackers when they¡¯re being nice,¡± Daniel said. I tried to hum, but it came out as a meow. ¡°When did you get so diplomatic?¡± ¡°Yesterday I was a shit-talking cripple whose entire family was made up of idiots like you. I learned how to be real diplomatic. Keeps my head on straight.¡± He wiggled a bit. ¡°Plus, I kinda respect these guys. Some of their stunts are famous.¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. We reached the end of the catwalk, the Barbie stepping aside to open a large door that looked like something out of a bank vault. The room we entered was a huge, expansive space with no floor. In the middle of it all, glowing a bright yellow, was a ball the size of a minivan, and a dozen steps past that were two guys staring at a red ball the size of their fist. The Barbie stepped in first. There was no floor, but she didn¡¯t seem to have trouble just standing on nothing and letting a few asteroids the size of grains of dust flick through her. ¡°Sirs, Stray Cat, for you.¡± The guy turned our way, revealing a shock of white hair held back by some weird silver goggles. He had a stained lab-coat on, and a strange thing over one arm with the words ¡®Power Glove¡¯ written in electric blue over the knuckles. Next to him was a golden robot with one leg that was red from foot to knee. His avatar was shiny and all, but it moved clunkily. ¡°Oh my, we have a guest!¡± he said before raising his arms up. Not very high, they looked like something out of a failed science fair project. The doctor looking one brought his arm up and tapped at the controls on his glove. The solar system around us, including all the little screens hovering around Mars, disappeared in a blink and we were suddenly in a garage. A really messy garage. One wall was covered in clocks of all sorts, and at the back of the room was an old school speaker taller than I was... as a human, that is. ¡°Hey,¡± I said before taking a chance and jumping up onto one of the counters so that I wasn¡¯t looking up at everyone. ¡°You must be Stray Cat,¡± the doctor said. ¡°I¡¯m Dial Up, the tin can next to me is Lag.¡± ¡°Greetings!¡± the robot said. ¡°I will leave you to it. I¡¯ll be waiting by the exit,¡± the Barbie said. She left, the vault door now replaced by a pretty typical wooden door straight out of the set from a really old movie. I finished looking around and settled down a bit. ¡°So, uh, hey,¡± I said. ¡°Nice avatars?¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Dial-Up said. ¡°I¡¯m a huge Back to the Future fan. A sci-fi classic, you know? This idiot got that piece of trash avatar from a fucking bootleg Disney merch stall.¡± ¡°Hey, this thing works well enough,¡± Lag said. It really didn¡¯t look like it was working well at all. ¡°So, what was with the solar system?¡± I asked. The doctor shrugged. ¡°We tapped into SpaceX¡¯s sensor suite and were snooping around. Just keeping an eye on things.¡± He reached under a desk, pulled out a seat, and plopped himself down on it. ¡°So, you were sent by Longbow, right?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I confirmed. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a girl. A Katalina McCarthy. I got some video from the security system around her place. She was taken by a bunch of assholes.¡± ¡°Send the footage over,¡± Dial-Up asked. ¡°We¡¯ll see what we can do.¡± ¡°Just like that?¡± I asked. ¡°No payment or anything?¡± ¡°If you¡¯re actually looking for your lost girlfriend or something we¡¯ll donate all your assets to the Eastern Russian Sewage Reconstruction fund, then make your digital life a digital nightmare,¡± Lag said. ¡°But yeah, you¡¯re looking for a kid Samurai, right? We don¡¯t charge for that.¡± ¡°Taking some of our time though,¡± Dial-Up said. ¡°Time better spent snooping on Mars?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes, actually.¡± Sending now! ¡°Nice avatar by the way. Most folk stick to humanoids, but the both of you went off script. Good detail work on the fur. Bet some folks would pay top dollar for such an accurate model,¡± Dial-up said. ¡°Got the files,¡± Lag said. A moment later the robot¡¯s eyes went red, and suddenly we were no longer in a garage, but in a familiar corridor. The one McCarthy had been kidnapped from. I fell a few feet to the carpeted floor when the counter I was on disappeared. ¡°This is a reconstruction. It¡¯s not accurate,¡± Dial-Up said. He gestured to some parts of the room that were just colourless holes in reality. ¡°Blindspots. Now, let¡¯s see what¡¯s what.¡± I got to watch the mercenaries kidnap Kattalina all over again, though this time in full three-dimensions. ¡°Well, well,¡± Dial-Up said. ¡°Isn¡¯t that interesting.¡± *** Chapter Eighteen - Gotcha Chapter Eighteen - Gotcha ¡°Every niche has their celebrities. Every community has a few charismatic, or at the very least talented, individuals that everyone gets to know. They¡¯re the name that everyone mentions, the standard that others try to meet. This is true both on the micro and macro levels. Nations have popular leaders, and clubs and friend groups have the one person that all the others look up to. More often than not, when you introduce a Samurai into that equation, they take that role, and quite comfortably at that. There¡¯s just something about the people chosen to be Samurai that makes them stand apart.¡± --Extract from a post on the PsychologyForever forums, 2036 *** ¡°Alright, so what can you tell me?¡± I asked. Stepping forwards, I started to weave my way through the scene, passing between the legs of the mercenaries and looking up at them from new angles. There wasn¡¯t that much more to see, really. ¡°This and that,¡± Dial-Up said. ¡°First, your girl here is using a cheap weapon. Twenty-Five points, it¡¯s a rifle that fires guided micro-missiles.¡± ¡°Like the Hummingbird?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s an example, yes,¡± he said. ¡°Though this one¡¯s reloadable and a bit more reliable. Bit more expensive. You know how that works.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± I said. ¡°What else?¡± Lag was the one to step up, his feet clunking on the floor in contrast to my cat¡¯s paws silent tread. ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing on these guys. Their gear is just about all aftermarket stuff. Sold to SWAT and some police units. You know the sort.¡± I nodded. ¡°And?¡± ¡°And this guy stands out.¡± Lag pointed to the one member of the group with the big backpack covered in high-tech gear. ¡°That kind of equipment doesn¡¯t come cheap, and it isn¡¯t exactly mass-produced. I¡¯m getting... about a thousand pings for sales in North America in the last half decade.¡± I eyed the guy¡¯s little antenna and heavy backpack, most of the details were covered in black cloth. ¡°Can you pin-point the guy, then?¡± ¡°Not from that alone,¡± Lag said. He gestured again and a screen appeared next to him. Lists and information scrolling by faster than I could read. ¡°See, these things aren¡¯t meant for nice commercial uses. It¡¯s the kind of equipment you¡¯d give to an IRL hacker on a squad just like this.¡± ¡°Any Samurai with similar stuff?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes. Us,¡± Lag said. ¡°The point is, as distinct as this thing is, it¡¯s not going to be easy to trace. The people who buy this stuff make a point of that. But, this little guy was cheap.¡± ¡°Cheap how?¡± Dial-Up chimed up. ¡°Software. He used some custom software to shut down the CCTV systems they crossed. Nice stuff. Well coded. A bit of overkill for the level of tech this building has. Still, it left its mark. Purchased right over here, in the Cube.¡± ¡°So you can track it? Point to me who wrote the code?¡± Lag and Dial-Up looked at each other. ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± I said. ¡°Please tell me you¡¯re not going to have me go on a fetch quest just for you to tell me who made it?¡± ¡°No, nothing like that. It¡¯s just that there are rules. Unwritten rules, but rules nonetheless,¡± Lag said. ¡°Giving up a member of the Cube to someone else, at least, when it¡¯s not a referral, is a bit taboo,¡± Dial-Up added. ¡°Aren¡¯t you two the bosses here?¡± I asked. They both shook their heads. ¡°No bosses here,¡± Dial-Up said. ¡°We¡¯re heavy hitters, popular in our own way, and we have good reps.¡± I bristled, then pointed with a paw--which was pretty damned difficult--to the wide-eyed still image of a girl. ¡°And you¡¯re not willing to risk that? Not even for her?¡± The two stared at me. ¡°Of course we are,¡± Dial-Up said. ¡°Look at her. She¡¯s a kid, she¡¯s probably terrified. No one here should be selling anything to people that would kidnap a kid, regardless of if they¡¯re a Samurai or not.¡± ¡°I¡¯m PMing the coder now. He¡¯s a kid by the name of Zoobreaker. Fourth circle,¡± Lag said. ¡°Think he¡¯ll be able to point us in the right direction?¡± I asked. ¡°We can hope,¡± Lag said. ¡°Most of the people here say that they don¡¯t keep records of their sales, but that¡¯s bull. You wouldn¡¯t believe how many backdoors people fail to notice. It¡¯s why this place is left alone.¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°I thought it¡¯d be because of you two.¡± Dial-Up shook his head. ¡°We¡¯re just two Samurai. Nothing too impressive in the grand scheme of things. The number of corporations we¡¯ve extorted from here, or information that we leaked over the years, that would make all the protection of even two vet Samurai moot.¡± ¡°So why aren¡¯t you being hassled then?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh, we get hassled all the time. You wouldn¡¯t believe the amount of crap the media talks about us when they get the chance. But then we remind them that we can shut down just about all of their infrastructure. Even the biggest, most powerful corp, needs to be able to meet payroll.¡± I grinned. ¡°Nice. I like that. Probably better than my idea of a solution.¡± ¡°Walk in and shoot everyone?¡± Dial-Up asked. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of folk¡¯s go to, at least in our line of work. It¡¯s nice and cathartic, but it doesn¡¯t work as often as you¡¯d think.¡± ¡°Really?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ve seen plenty of news feeds and stories about Samurai just kicking ass and taking names.¡± Lag nodded. ¡°We make sure that normal folk hear all the stories. That they know that we¡¯re violent, but fair. The threat of violence is often a lot more useful than violence itself.¡± Dial-Up nodded. ¡°It helps when some of that respect we get is actually earned. Stopping incursions is nice, but those only happen once every month or two, and not often in the same time zone, let alone the same country.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll keep it in mind,¡± I said. ¡°Good,¡± Lag said. He raised an arm and tapped the side of his head, making a hollow clunking noise. ¡®Just got a PM back from Zoobreaker. I think we have our suspects.¡± The room shifted again, turning from the corridor where McCarthy was kidnapped into the interior of a spaceship. ¡°Damn. Warn a girl before you do that, would you?¡± I asked as I looked up and around. There were a bunch of consoles with weird chairs by them, and a lot of old-timey computer screens and big archaic buttons. ¡°Is this the Enterprise?¡± Daniel asked. Dial-Up nodded. ¡°It is. Lag, on the screen?¡± Lag nodded and soon the front of the bridge, which had a nice view into outer space, flickered and was filled with a website¡¯s front page. The Hour Men Your Target Dead in an Hour or Less! ¡°Is that really their tagline?¡± I asked. The side had a bunch of generic images, and some boring links above, like ¡®Products¡¯ and ¡®Locations¡¯ in bold. ¡°Looks like it,¡± Lag said. ¡°They¡¯re pretty open about what they do, but that¡¯s normal on the dark web these days. You need to be loud.¡± ¡°They have a testimonials section,¡± I pointed out. Dial-Up shrugged. His eyes were flicking this way and that as he replied. ¡°They have great reviews on Yelp.¡± I jumped to the captain¡¯s seat and spun around to sit while facing the front. The better view allowed me to see more of their screen. ¡°So are they the ones?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t tell,¡± Lag said. ¡°The server their site¡¯s on has nothing else on it. The owner of the server... has been dead for twelve years. I can¡¯t find anything in the site¡¯s code. It¡¯s all pre-purchased stuff, bought on credit that was later reported missing. They¡¯ve covered their tracks well.¡± ¡°So how do I get to them and find McCarthy.¡± ¡°Oh, they won¡¯t have her,¡± Dial-Up said. ¡°Not these guys. They probably brought her and her dog somewhere else.¡± ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake,¡± I muttered. ¡°Can you tell me where?¡± Lag hummed, then shook his head. ¡°Nope. Tracing their vehicles leads to a parking garage, then the trail goes cold. I could get you a list of employees, but none of them had phones or augs that tracked their motions across the city yesterday. At least, none of those I suspect were on that mission.¡± ¡°Then... what should I do?¡± Dial-Up grinned. ¡°You were looking forward to using a bit of violence to solve things, right? Because we have an address IRL.¡± ¡°So, I can ask them in person?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I think I can do that.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll try to give you a hand,¡± Lag said. ¡°You¡¯re a stealth specialist, right? We can probably cut the power to the entire block.¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that just alert them all?¡± I asked. Lag shrugged. ¡°My body is a one hundred and eighty ton tank. I don¡¯t do stealth.¡± Fair enough. ¡°Okay. Okay yeah, I can do that.¡± *** Chapter Nineteen - Log Off Chapter Nineteen - Log Off ¡°If you don¡¯t know your Mesh etiquette, then you¡¯ll end up being the one caught walking around with your fly down. The one that others shy away from because you¡¯re too loud at the wrong time. That¡¯s why, in collaboration with Nimbletainment, we¡¯re presenting this five-part series on the etiquette of the Mesh! Strap yourselves in, kids, because we¡¯re going to be learning a whole lot today!¡± --Meshy the Manatee, a Nimbletainment Education Mascot/Vtuber. June 2036 *** ¡°Thanks you two,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯ve been surprisingly helpful.¡± Dial-Up scoffed, shaking his head enough that his wild mane of white hair wiggled around. ¡°Think nothing of it. You could do with learning a bit more about the Mesh though.¡± I shrugged my kitty shoulders, and when the room turned into a grand library without so much as a twitch, I didn¡¯t startle. ¡°I¡¯m getting used to it, I think. But I have something waiting for me in the real world.¡± Lag shook his head with a rusty squeak. ¡°This is the real world,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s perceptible, and follows its own set rules. It¡¯s even, technically, physically present. It¡¯s just different enough that some of us like it better here than in the IRL.¡± ¡°But you still call it the IRL?¡± I asked. He moved his arms in a sort of ¡®what can you do¡¯ gesture. ¡°We need to call it something.¡± I looked around the library, at the dusty shelves and old books. Daniel looked entirely out of place hovering there. ¡°Well, I¡¯m off to go scare the truth out of some mercs. Thanks again. I¡¯ll get the girl to send you some digital flowers or something once I get her ass out of the fire.¡± Dial-Up barked a laugh. ¡°Sure. I think I¡¯d like that. You know where the exit is,¡± he said with a gesture behind me. A glance back showed a heavy double door at the end of the library. ¡°Can¡¯t I just log out from here?¡± Daniel sighed. ¡°She¡¯s real clueless, sorry,¡± he said. ¡°What?¡± I asked. ¡°You can¡¯t just... that¡¯s like walking into someone¡¯s house and not taking your boots off, you know.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not taking my boots off for anyone,¡± I said. Daniel slumped in mid-air, like a squid that had just been stepped on. ¡°Dammit. It¡¯s like, uh, someone opening your fridge without permission, or someone not leaving the room when you want some alone time with Lucy.¡± ¡°Right, right, it¡¯s impolite, I get it. I¡¯m not entirely daft.¡± Surprising! ¡°Shush you.¡± I turned and strutted over to the door. ¡°See you two geeks around,¡± I said. ¡°Good luck, Stray,¡± Lag said. ¡°Don¡¯t die!¡± Dial-up added. Daniel flew past me and opened the door. A good thing, since I couldn¡¯t actually reach the handle at all. Though it wasn¡¯t a real door, so maybe there was a way to open it without actually interacting with the handle? There had to be something in place for the non-human avatars out there. Or maybe the digital world was just as ableist as the real world. We didn¡¯t end up on the same catwalk as before. Instead the door led into a sort of bazaar, or at least a spot behind a stall set in a row of them. The stalls were wildly different, some looking like authentic wooden things from back when wood was a thing people could afford, and others looked like the sort I¡¯d seen in pictures of conventions. Some decided to raise their middle fingers to gravity and were just floating there, or weren¡¯t actually stalls being geometric things hovering around. ¡°What¡¯s this place?¡± I asked. ¡°An NPC marketplace,¡± Daniel said. ¡°The people behind the stalls are programs. They sell stuff.¡± ¡°People can¡¯t navigate a shopping site here?¡± I asked. There were a few dozen avatars walking past the kiosks and staring, but for the most part the room felt way too big for the number of people present. ¡°It¡¯s more of a personalization thing,¡± Daniel said. ¡°You know, meeting someone, bartering, having a face to match the item.¡± Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°But that face is a program with no one behind it?¡± I asked. ¡°Right, internet weirdness.¡± ¡°You¡¯re way too young to be shitting on Mesh culture,¡± Daniel said. I snorted and sat down. ¡°So, where¡¯s the log-out button on this thing.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t log here,¡± Daniel said. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s step out of the building first.¡± ¡°Are you serious?¡± I grumbled to myself as I followed after Daniel. I wasn¡¯t expecting a hand to grab me by the scruff of the neck and lift me off the ground. ¡°Oh, aren¡¯t you a cutie!¡± I was turned around to come face to face with a young woman, a young woman with a man¡¯s voice. ¡°Put me down or I swear to fuck I will end you,¡± I said. I swung my arms around, but I couldn¡¯t reach the idiot¡¯s arm. ¡°This model is top. The fur isn¡¯t even a texture, it¡¯s all modelled. The poly count has to be insane,¡± he said. I assumed it was a he, there was no way what looked like a Japanese school girl had a voice that bassy. ¡°Myalis,¡± I said. Deploying weaponry! I felt something on my back shift, and suddenly I had a pair of guns poking over my shoulder. ¡°Oh, wow, it¡¯s some sort of mecha-shift too.¡± ¡°Um, yo dude,¡± Daniel said. ¡°Put her down, would you?¡± ¡°How much for the model? Or at least tell me where you got it.¡± A pair of reticules appeared in my vision, handy little circles with a plus in their middle. I centred both over the idiot¡¯s face, then with a mental command, pulled the trigger. The idiot didn¡¯t explode or burst apart, there weren¡¯t even any particle effects or anything. His avatar froze, twitched once, then disappeared. I landed on all fours, my guns already folding back into my back. ¡°Right, that¡¯s enough internet for today,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, let¡¯s log off.¡± Understood. The world turned the comforting blue of a BIOS screen fritzing out, then black for just a moment before I opened my eyes to see an unfamiliar ceiling. A glance around confirmed that I was back in the real world, in the living room I¡¯d left. Though I had a few more pillows around my head and my lips were wet. Had I been drooling? Daniel was still knocked out on the sofa, legs over the edge and arms splayed out above him. He was twitching just a little, his eyes moving under the skin of his eyelids. Nice and creepy. With a sigh, I pushed myself up and got to my feet, only to find myself pausing as I wobbled a bit. Everything felt just a little bit off. I bounced on the spot a few times, stretched my arm out, then bent my knees close to my chest to get everything back in order. It seemed to work. ¡°Cat?¡± Lucy asked from the corridor. She stepped in, her face lighting up with a smile the moment she saw me standing. ¡°How did it go?¡± ¡°Eh,¡± I said. She pulled me into a hug, then planted a wet kiss on my mouth. ¡°So, I experimented with a bit of somnophilia,¡± she said. ¡°You did?¡± I asked. She nodded. ¡°Yup. I kissed you real good. But it¡¯s just no fun when you¡¯re not reacting to it.¡± I snorted and returned the kiss. ¡°Pervert.¡± ¡°Come on, you¡¯d have tried the same thing,¡± she said. ¡°No. But I might have copped a feel,¡± I said before giving her an example of what I meant. Daniel sighed. ¡°Can you guys at least let me set up something to record this before you start?¡± I rolled my eyes and pulled back from Lucy. The moment was kinda ruined. ¡°Dammit Daniel,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re lucky that you¡¯re useful enough to keep around.¡± The boy laughed and shifted on the sofa until he was sitting up, legs over the side and toes squeezing and letting go restlessly. ¡°That¡¯s my goal in life, to be moderately useful.¡± ¡°Keep trying,¡± I said. ¡°But, yeah, thanks for acting the guide.¡± ¡°No problem. Oh, and I got lots of screencaps for Lucy. I bet you could talk her into petting you.¡± ¡°What?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Nevermind that,¡± I said. ¡°Come on, we have some things to plan out. Like how to hit up a mercenary base.¡± ¡°You¡¯re doing what?¡± *** Chapter Twenty - Warpath Chapter Twenty - Warpath ¡°There are few things more terrifying than a Samurai on a warpath. These things include showing symptoms of whatever plague is currently in vogue, noticing a mushroom cloud in your vicinity, and seeing more than one Samurai on a warpath. It¡¯s real easy to die out there these days. So remember. Wash your hands, don¡¯t live in an impoverished neighbourhood, always shut the fuck up, and you¡¯ll get to live a long, and... pleasant life.¡± --Jeremy Rotter, lifecoach. 2044 *** Lucy and I navigated over to the kitchen as I explained things to her. ¡°So, the mercs that got Katallina were real, uh, discreet right?¡± ¡°Yup,¡± Lucy agreed. ¡°So Lag and Dial-Up, who are real weirdos, but they¡¯re alright sorts. Anyway, they tracked them down. Or at least figured out which group they¡¯re from based on the software they used. I probably wouldn¡¯t have been able to track them myself. Now I know who they are, more or less, and where to go knocking to find them.¡± ¡°So, you¡¯re going to go knocking at the door of a really dangerous, very competent group of mercenaries, all on your own?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the plan?¡± I tried. Lucy smiled at me. It was a very dangerous smile. ¡°You know, I do like you alive, right? You¡¯re nice and soft. You make for a good bed warmer. I would be very disappointed if you ran off to fight some mercs and got dead because you lack common sense.¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°Alright, yeah. I get it,¡± I said as I sat down. ¡°Is there anything to eat?¡± Lucy moved over to the fridge and popped it open. ¡°There¡¯re leftovers, if you want something fast. Or we could order something?¡± ¡°Leftovers are fine,¡± I said. ¡°Probably better than anything from the orphanage.¡± ¡°Aww, you don¡¯t miss the sugar and corn-syrup with the occasional bit of protein juice pressed into... some weird shapes?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Ohh, with that yellow cheese stuff!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t diss the yellow cheese stuff,¡± I said. ¡°Well, this one has real cheese,¡± Lucy said as she pulled a plate out of the fridge. I only caught sight of something beige before she shoved it in the microwave and set it on. I flinched with every beep. Why were microwaves so damned loud? New ears aside. ¡°So,¡± Lucy said as she leaned against the counter. ¡°What are you going to do about the mercs?¡± ¡°I could call the police on them?¡± I tried. We both giggled. ¡°No, but really, I¡¯ll ping Deus Ex. Maybe she¡¯ll get off her lazy little ass and will give me a hand. Maybe I can ask my nun friend too.¡± ¡°Marie?¡± I blinked, then recalled the nun the kittens had escaped the museum from what felt like ages ago. ¡°No, not her. Gomorrah.¡± ¡°Oh, the flame-thrower nun,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Yeah. She¡¯s pretty cool. I bet lots of fire would work on some mercs.¡± I could imagine the scene already. And the smell. ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound very nun-like.¡± Lucy said. The microwave beeped and she pushed off the counter, then hissed a moment later as she touched the too-hot plate. A moment later she placed it before me, the corners pinched between some paper towels. There were two forks on the plate, next to some sort of pasta things filled with cheese and some green stuff. There was a slab of meat too, covered in spices and big grains of pinkish salt, and next to that a puddle of some sauce that had suffered a bit in the microwave. ¡°I can¡¯t tell what half of this is,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s all delicious is what it is,¡± Lucy said. ¡°The meat¡¯s actual meat. Like, from a cow or a pig or something.¡± I shrugged and sliced a piece off the steak, dipped it in the sauce, and tucked in. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I said while breathing hard to cool my mouth down. Lucy took a nibble too. ¡°I know right. I¡¯m going to get so fat living here.¡± ¡°Nice and plump,¡± I said. She bumped her shoulder against mine. ¡°Try the cheese thing. It¡¯s real cheese too, I think.¡± ¡°I could get used to this,¡± I said. Lucy nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll be real fancy folk soon. Hey, do Samurai go to school?¡± I shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Could ask Deus Ex, but something tells me she doesn¡¯t do school all that well.¡± I scratched the side of my nose with my metallic hand. ¡°Why¡¯re you asking? Planning to get me enrolled in some sort of boarding school?¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Ohh, one of those fancy ones filled with repressed girls that you can awaken with your masculine charms?¡± Lucy asked. I bumped my shoulder against hers. ¡°Weirdo,¡± I said. She shook her head. ¡°I was actually thinking about the kittens. They¡¯ll need to go to school or something one day, you know? I think there¡¯s an education centre in the hotel. You know, for fancy folk to offload their brats for the afternoon.¡± ¡°Good luck selling them on the idea,¡± I said. ¡°You could help. Threaten them a bit to soften them up. Then I can come in and ask really nicely, and offer sweets or something,¡± she said. I glared. ¡°You¡¯re too damned devious, you know that,¡± I said.It was very much like Lucy to pull that kind of thing on the kittens. Or on me. But she was always enjoyably apologetic when I caught her trying to pull a fast one. ¡°So, Gomorrah,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Should I be worried? Flamethrower nuns sound pretty awesome.¡± ¡°She is kinda hot,¡± I admitted. Lucy snorted. ¡°That was awful.¡± I nodded and poked my fork into some sort of teeny tiny potato. ¡°Hey, Myalis? Can you call Gomorrah or is that off-limits too?¡± Dumbass clicked over, then jumped onto the far end of the table. The little robot shifted before depositing itself down. ¡°I can call her, if you wish. Do you want it to be out loud?¡± I waved her on. ¡°Sure.¡± The robot spun around and soon the kitchen filled with the tri-tone beeping of a phone going off. Something clicked and a familiar voice came out from Dumbass. ¡°Stray Cat?¡± ¡°Oh, they actually call you that?¡± Lucy whispered. ¡°You¡¯re not Stray Cat,¡± Gomorrah said. I cleared my throat. ¡°Yeah, yeah, it¡¯s me. Well, no, that was Lucy, but I¡¯m here. Anyway, yeah, how¡¯re you doing?¡± ¡°Smooth,¡± Lucy muttered. ¡°I¡¯m well,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Is this a courtesy call or something?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t actually know what that is,¡± I said. ¡°Nah, I¡¯m calling you to know if you¡¯d be willing to help me bust some mercs later? They kidnapped this Samurai kid. So I¡¯m going to be paying them the fun sort of visit.¡± I gestured to dumbass the first. ¡°Myalis, can you send her the stuff.¡± ¡°Sending the... stuff now,¡± Myalis said. ¡°Give me a minute,¡± Gomorrah said. I hummed something agreeable sounding and cut my meat up with the side of my fork. I was pretty sure that meat wasn¡¯t meant to be that tender. I wondered what it tasted like when it was fresher. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s no good,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I know, right,¡± I said. I wiggled my fork through the air. ¡°You want in? I¡¯d go in alone, but my girlfriend would get all worried and annoying about me handling things on my own.¡± ¡°We¡¯re pretty much done in the incursion zone,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°The only parts left are right around the centre of the hive, and that¡¯s being cared for by some higher tier samurai. I suppose I have the time.... That I¡¯ll make the time to save a sister.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± I said. ¡°Wanna meet up... uh, where are you, and Myalis, where¡¯re the mercs?¡± ¡°If you¡¯re looking for a place to meet Vanguard Gomorrah, then this hotel is more or less between her and your objective,¡± Myalis said. ¡°That works for me,¡± I said. ¡°Likewise. I¡¯ll see you in about half an hour. I¡¯ll send Myalis a ping when I get there,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°See you later Stray Cat. And good day Lucy.¡± ¡°Bye!¡± Lucy called out. Dumbass shifted a little. ¡°Call over. Shall I requisition a car?¡± ¡°Wait until Gomorrah arrives. She might have a car already.¡± And squeezing into a clown car on my own was fine, but it would be a bit embarrassing with someone else. I sighed. ¡°I guess that means I need to keep moving,¡± I said. Lucy patted my thigh. ¡°It¡¯s alright. Just be safe, okay?¡± ¡°Yeah, no worries,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll be back before you know it.¡± Lucy grinned. ¡°I hope you won¡¯t be so tired that you¡¯ll just fall asleep this time?¡± I flushed. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure not to,¡± I said. *** Chapter Twenty-One - Godâ€™s Righteous Fury Chapter Twenty-One - God¡¯s Righteous Fury ¡°Car culture was a multi-billion-dollar industry before Samurai came about and introduced technologies that changed the way driving worked for everyone. Now, car culture is a multi-trillion-dollar industry, with everyone from the super rich who want their Rolls Royce to be made to their exacting specification, to street punks who covered their beaters with wraps of their favourite waifus. Anyone can mod their rides to be just a little faster. Everyone dreams of drift-flying around the smoke-stacks in the factory districts of various mega cities.¡± -J. P. Kafka on the evolution of car culture, Jan 2038 *** I wasn¡¯t feeling my best as I rode the elevator down to the lobby. My clothes were in a bit of a state after Lucy¡¯s very enthusiastic good-bye, and if it wasn¡¯t for the guilt of knowing that some kid needed help, I might have called off the whole thing to take another long shower. As entertaining as your distress is, it might be best if you focused a little. ¡°You think?¡± I muttered. I tugged my coat back on straight, then made sure all of my gear was in place. I had my Trench Maker tucked under one arm, my Whisper over my back. My back-mounted guns were tucked away, and my tail was casually whipping from side to side. It was a lot of weaponry, and yet I still felt like I could have a bit more. Still, it wasn¡¯t worth losing points just yet, not if I could spare them. The elevator slowed to a gentle stop and its doors opened. My freaky new ears almost immediately gave me an image of the room before I stepped out into it, and of the salesman in the corner whispering, ¡°There she is.¡± I walked fast. I wanted to duck my head down and try to be unnoticable, but there was no way that would work. My jacket, un-transparent as it was, looked a bit like the acid-rain proof long coats worn by some of the folk around, but my armour beneath sure didn¡¯t. Lucy had once told me that one of the best ways to get around was to look like you knew what you wanted and to move ahead with your head held tall and your back straight. It was good advice for an orphan on the streets. ¡°Myalis, can you send a warning to the idiots coming over?¡± Certainly. Do you wish to see it first? ¡°Will you send something embarrassing if I don¡¯t ask?¡± Definitely. I rolled my eyes, then blinked a few times to get over the still-strange sensation of having two eyes to blink. ¡°Show me.¡±

Dear unintelligent marketing person,

Be aware that the Vanguard you are approaching is currently on an important, uninterruptible mission to safeguard the life of someone more important than you.?

Attempts to stall or interrupt this vital mission will result in one of the following:

- The leaking of embarrassing personal information

- Dismemberment

- Defenestration

- Public humiliation

- The sudden and irreversible erasure of all information (including images, digital paperwork, identity files, records, video, and digitized memories) of your person from any source connected to an open network, including banks, social media, schools, and the internet as a whole.

I nodded after reading it. That was suitably terrifying. ¡°Why¡¯s it superimposed over a gif of kittens chasing a ball of yarn?¡± That¡¯s a live feed from the internet, actually. And I enjoy the juxtaposition. I think it makes it just a little bit more intimidating. ¡°Send it,¡± I said. I enjoyed the way the morons coming at me paused. A few of them looked to each other, and one even seemed to be considering it, but then one scoffed and turned away, and soon I was across the room and the peer-pressure had them looking elsewhere for other people to bother. Pushing through the exit found me once more on the landing just outside the hotel. This time, there wasn¡¯t a shitty taxi waiting for me. Instead, with a familiar nun leaning against its side, was a boxy muscle car. ¡°God damn,¡± I said as I moved closer and took the ride in. Flat black paint so dark it almost hurt to look at, a shell of thick steel with a sort of cage around the front and back. The car was resting flush against the ground, its turbines off and clicking as they cooled, and yet it looked like it was ready to pounce ahead at a moment¡¯s notice. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. No windows, because those were apparently for lesser cars, and if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, there was a turret emplacement on the hood. ¡°God damn,¡± I repeated. ¡°Using the Lord¡¯s name in vain is usually a sin,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°But that is the appropriate reaction in this case.¡± ¡°What is it?¡± I asked as I carefully reached out to run a hand over the hood. It was rough, coarse like sandpaper. ¡°This is what you can get for four thousand points and a tech-tree specced into hovercars,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°It¡¯s gorgeous,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not a car girl, but still, damn.¡± I noticed that she had built up a bit of a crowd, a dozen or so people blinking at us with the telltale look of someone using their augs to take screencaps. ¡°She goes from zero to sixty in point nil nil one seconds. So fast that anything organic inside is turned to mush. Max speed in-atmosphere is just shy of mach one. Point defence lasers, guided rockets, and a flame-thrower under the hood. Fully air-tight, of course. Oh, and there¡¯s a fridge in between the seats. It keeps my soda cold.¡± ¡°Christ.¡± Gomortah huffed and shook her head. I looked up to her, but her face was covered in that same emotionless white mask as before. Not much seemed to have changed with my favourite nun other than the car. ¡°Does she have a name?¡± I asked. ¡°God¡¯s Righteous Fury,¡± Gomorrah said with a hint of pride. I stared at her, then shook my head. ¡°O-kay. That¡¯s certainly a name. Can we get in?¡± ¡°Clean off your shoes,¡± Gomorrah said as she pushed herself off the side. ¡°Fury, doors.¡± The car¡¯s sides split, revealing two seamless doors that pushed out then slid back to reveal a plush interior covered in white leather and golden trim. I tapped my boots together after running over to the other side, then slid onto the passenger seat. The moment my ass was down, the seat shifted, the backrest moved and I found myself leaning back into a sort of gel-like pad that seemed purpose-built to accommodate my gear. There was even a slot for my tail. ¡°That¡¯s a bit much,¡± I said as I untensed and sank in. ¡°No belts?¡± ¡°This car doesn¡¯t do accidents,¡± Gomorrah said as she reached towards the dash. A pair of joysticks unfolded from the console and soon the front, sides, ceiling and floor lit up with a crystal-clear view of our surroundings. ¡°You¡¯re not using auto-pilot?¡± I asked. Gomorrah turned towards me and just stared with that expressionless mask for a few long seconds. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± I said. ¡°So, we plan on the way?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± she said as she reached out and flicked a pair of very old-school switches. ¡°Identify,¡± A disembodied voice demanded. ¡°Fury: Roar,¡± Gomorrah said. I snorted, but the sound was drowned out by a low, primal rumble and a few bursts of blue flames burping out of the raised scoop on the hood. The car lifted, then I wasn¡¯t able to tell what happened because I was thrown into my seat and breathing became a thing of the past. I did notice that the darkened landing pad became open sky through the canopy. For a few good seconds I was too busy trying to not die to observe anything. ¡°Oh, sorry,¡± Gomorrah said as she loosened on the acceleration. I gasped for air and pressed a hand against my chest. ¡°What the hell?¡± I asked. ¡°Traffic in the upper levels is set at three hundred KPH. Just wanted to get to cruising speed.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. It was a weak attempt at snark, but I was still catching my breath. A look down revealed all of New Montreal, done in somber colours and with the flashing headlights of slower moving cars below. Huge holographic ads splashed through the sky, and we zipped by a few ad-blimps with even more ads on their sides. ¡°I know the view¡¯s great, but you asked me for help?¡± I stopped staring. ¡°Right. So, did you read the stuff I sent?¡± ¡°You mean what your AI sent? I listened to the abridged version.¡± There was an abridged version? ¡°We¡¯re going after these mercs, called the, uh... fuck, it doesn¡¯t matter. They¡¯re the ones that grabbed Katallina, the Samurai girl.¡± ¡°No Samurai name for her?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Never met her in person,¡± I said. ¡°So, They took her. Don¡¯t know if she¡¯s still with them or not, but if she¡¯s not with them, then they¡¯re the next link in the line, you know?¡± Gomorrah nodded. ¡°The plan, as far as there is one, is to kick in the front door and ask some very pointed questions,¡± I said. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a stealth specialist?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Can¡¯t you sneak in?¡± I frowned as I thought about it. ¡°Probably? Might not be a bad idea. They might get spooked if we burn down their front door.¡± ¡°I can always wait as backup,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Also, hang on, we¡¯re going down.¡± Then the car flipped upside down, Gomorrah pulled the joysticks back and aimed us nose down. I screamed a little. *** Chapter Twenty-Two - Reaction Time Chapter Twenty-Two - Reaction Time ¡°If you ever have to fight a Samurai, and that¡¯s already a losing proposition, then the very best thing you can do is make sure they don¡¯t have time to react. They have an infinite arsenal at their disposal; but only a finite amount of time to pick which tool to use. Strike fast. Strike hard, and never strike the same way twice.¡¯ --Anonymous, from a dark web guide for hitmen, 2052 *** ¡°Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.¡± Gomorrah twitched her hands to the side, and we juked out of the path of a cargo craft so fast that even my cybernetic eye only caught a passing glimpse of the life insurance ad on its side. ¡®Shit shit shit!¡± I added as Gomorrah started to pull up, then encountered the rising, warning-light covered smokestacks of New Montreal¡¯s industrial district. My everything clenched as she flung us to one side to avoid a pole, then tossed us in the other direction to keep from ramming a chimney. ¡°Tight,¡± Gomorrah said before rolling the car to the side to slip in between two metallic blurs. I didn¡¯t even see them until we were shooting past them. ¡°Fuck shit,¡± I agreed. Gomorrah snorted and levelled us off. She smoothly guided the Fury down between the mega structures nearest the industrial sector and wove down into the main traffic lanes. She was still ducking and weaving around slower cars, but it wasn¡¯t at a speed that had my lunch considering a violent exit. ¡°Where did you learn to drive, and can someone sue them for incompetence,¡± I said. ¡°Come on, no one¡¯s died from my driving,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I feel there should be a ¡®yet¡¯ at the end there,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe in italics.¡± The nun laughed. ¡°I got my license early, so I used to drive the church van around a lot.¡± ¡°Bringing people closer to god by means of heart attacks?¡± I asked. ¡°You know, at this rate I expect you to just crash into the merc¡¯s hidey-hole.¡± ¡°That¡¯s one way of doing it,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°But nah. I¡¯m going to park us a few blocks over, and we can make our way down on foot.¡± ¡°Is it a nice enough neighbourhood to leave this thing parked on its own?¡± I asked. ¡°No one¡¯s going to steal my car, Cat.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a nice car,¡± I said. ¡°It can handle itself,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Right Fury?¡± The car chimed a positive-sounding two-tone note. I shrugged. She was probably right. It would take someone with serious balls to try and jack a Samurai¡¯s ride. We veered out of traffic a moment later and glided down a few levels, past billboards and ads and a few sky bridges between the buildings towering above us until Gomorrah came level with a hangar door in the side of a building. ¡°It¡¯s one of those pay-per-minute parking spots,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°The cheap ones, you know?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s the rate like?¡± ¡°Forty-Five credits per minute. Countdown starts when you move in, ends when you¡¯re finally out,¡± Gomorrah said. I noticed her head twitching, the telltale sign that someone was navigating some menu. ¡°It¡¯s got some vacancy.¡± ¡°You know, this might take a few hours.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± she said. ¡°¡®Cause you¡¯re not planning on paying?¡± I asked. I sure as hell wouldn¡¯t. Gomorrah looked my way for a moment. ¡°What? Of course I¡¯ll pay. It¡¯ll be what, a few thousand credits at most?¡± I shrugged. It was her credit. The hangar opened and we slid into the poorly lit interior. Gomorrah hovered past automated car racking system and headed towards a more traditional parking lot by the back. I tucked in between a sedan and a soccermom van. I stepped out with a sigh. Gomorrah¡¯s driving was a bit much for me, and it was nice to have both feet on solid ground again. ¡°Okay,¡± I said as I pushed Fury''s door closed. It hissed and shut itself on its own. ¡°So, I¡¯m a bit disorientated. Where¡¯s that merc hideout?¡± ¡°Three buildings down,¡± Gomorrah said. She moved to the back of her car, the trunk opening as she approached it. ¡°It¡¯s near ground level.¡± A set of mechanical arms came out of the back of her car, carrying a very familiar flame thrower which Gomorrah grabbed and, with a tug on its strap, hung off her shoulder. ¡°Cool. Myalis, can you give me waypoints?¡± Certainly. I nodded, taking in the faintly glowing green balls set a couple of meters apart in my vision, all of them leading over to an elevator bank at the back of the parking garage. A three dimensional wire-frame of the building pointed me more or less in the right direction too. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Are we really just going to knock on their front door?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°No. But we¡¯ll get within a building of them before we start planning properly, I think. Myalis, can you make it so we don¡¯t ping anything on the way over? I don¡¯t want them to see us coming until we want them to know.¡± I can do that. Though I can¡¯t account for organic observers, or for that matter closed circuit systems or a few other methods of observation. ¡°Just do your best with what you¡¯ve got,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± Gomorrah caught up with me and we walked over to the elevators side by side. I slapped the right floor number and leaned against the wall as the elevator rumbled its way down. ¡°Do you know how you¡¯ll get in?¡± the nun asked. ¡°Not yet,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose the place has suspiciously large air vents able to hold my weight? Not unless you¡¯re considering losing quite a few kilos. I snorted. ¡°Okay. Backdoors? Windows maybe? One moment, I¡¯m going to send you and Gomorrah the schematics to the building. Keep in mind, these are the official schematics, not something taken from a scan. It¡¯s entirely possible that the building has been changed. A three dimensional model appeared before me of an entire megastructure. Hundreds of rooms, corridors, small homes and shops, all stacked up one atop the other, with supports marked in orange and walls in translucent greens. Faint blue lines marked out what I suspected were the buildings wiring. ¡°Can you highlight the merc¡¯s place?¡± I asked. Here you go. A stretch of the building some three stories tall lit up in purple. I toyed with the controls built into my augs until it was zoomed in a little and I could see it better. The section the mercs were using wasn¡¯t perfectly square. Some of the rooms from other parts of the building poked into their space, but it was a near thing. ¡°Looks like a sort of garage on the first floor. Living spaces on the second, and... maybe those are offices on the third?¡± Indeed. The bottommost floor occupied by The Hour Men is the fifth floor of the building. ¡°Where are the entrances?¡± I asked. Five doors were highlighted in red. Three emergency exits leading into a stairwell that crossed a decent portion of the entire building. A door by the offices, no doubt leading into a sort of lounge, and the main door of the garage. ¡°Those fire escape entrances look to be in pretty quiet spots,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I really doubt they¡¯re viable entrances,¡± I said. ¡°They have to be locked up, or else bricked over. Unless these guys are complete idiots, and I doubt that.¡± ¡°You think that highly of them?¡± ¡°No. I just don¡¯t like the idea of underestimating someone so much,¡± I said. ¡°I think the garage is too obvious, and the main entrance is a bust.¡± ¡°Unless you go in with a disguise or something.¡± That... was an idea. ¡°Maybe. Let¡¯s look at other things first. Myalis, they have an entire wall that¡¯s on the exterior, right?¡± They do. The garage-side wall lit up. ¡°Any windows?¡± Four windows flashed the same colour as the entrances. ¡°Well, there¡¯s another option,¡± I said. ¡°How important is it that you get in physically?¡± Gomorrah asked. The elevator dinged and its doors opened out into a little lobby with cracked tiled floors and heaps of trash shoved up against the corners. ¡°I guess we should figure out what we want to do with them before breaking in, huh?¡± ¡°That might save us some time,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Right. Priority one is the girl. And I guess her dog. We need to find out if she¡¯s there. If she is, then we extract her.¡± ¡°Just the two of us?¡± Gomorrah asked. I chewed on my cheek, then shook my head. ¡°No. That¡¯s too risky. If she is there, then we get some other Samurai to help. Someone like Deus Ex could probably fry everyone in the building from a dozen kilometers away without hurting her. It¡¯d be safer.¡± ¡°And if she¡¯s not there?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Then we find out where she is. If that means finding someone to ask questions to, then so be it.¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Three - Phones Chapter Twenty-Three - Phones ¡°Phones! For well over a hundred and fifty years, humanity has been brought closer together thanks to the wired, and eventually wireless, communication networks that followed wherever we congregated. Perhaps the most iconic of these is the smartphone. So called because the device was meant to be smart. Not in the sense that it had any kind of learning or adaptive AI, but in the sense that it allowed someone to be more productive and achieve more. That turned out to be a lie. Phones significantly reduced a person¡¯s attention span and ability to focus, introduced constant para-relationships and entertainment on the go. That¡¯s why today we use the successors of the handy smartphone instead. Augs! Linked between your optic nerve, the inside of your eye, and an implanted processor, the modern aug (or, as it is properly called, ocular augmentation) allows you to do anything you could with a cellphone, but with only a thought! There can be issues though. That is why one should always ensure that their augs are the top of the line, and running the latest updates and have kept up with their rental fees. Having your eyes shut off for missed payments is no joke!¡± --Part of Freezerburn Electronics ¡®stealth¡¯ advertising campaign of 2031. *** ¡°Windows it is,¡± I said. I patted myself down, making sure everything was in place and stepped out into the little lobby we¡¯d dropped down to. Myalis¡¯ waypoints led out ahead and to the left, and I wasn¡¯t about to argue with that. Finding your way around in a mega building was a strange sort of skill you needed to hone pretty well if you were going to live in the bowels. There were some efforts to make things fit a certain mold, but those usually fell flat when every other building had a different company building it. It reached the point where you could kinda tell who built what based on the way the building¡¯s innards were arranged. I couldn¡¯t name any of those construction companies, of course, but I could recognize a pattern. Some had lots of tight corridors in the centre and bigger rooms on the outside, others the opposite. One group had a sort of open space in the middle that often reached out all the way to the sky above and was used as a sort of extra space for walkways. It never ended up as fancy as it sounded. I kinda recognized where we were going a few corridors down. I¡¯d never been here, but I¡¯d been in enough places like it that it wasn¡¯t hard to figure it out. We crossed through one passage with peeling wallpaper set over cement walls and shoved through a doorway into a street. Not a street in the old sense, like a passage on ground-level where cars went, but a proper modern street. That was a place with shops and houses along both sides, and enough foot-traffic to keep things lively. Myalis¡¯ waypoints hovered a little higher, pointing to the end of a long passage that, under the banners, stickers, holographic ads and shop fronts, was little more than a wider corridor under all the dressings. A few auto-shops were selling stuff from ramen to microwaved meals to anyone with the credits to spare. There were bigger lines at the stalls with actual people behind the counters though. Something about being served by a machine always felt wrong to me, and it was the same for a lot of folk. Vending machines spamming incessant jingles tailor-made to act as earworms and a few unmarked doors leading off to who-knows-where lined the sides. In the middle were a few squared off plant boxes with benches on their sides. Not that I¡¯d be caught dead sitting there. Judging by the deadness of the plants, the place wasn¡¯t exactly maintained all that often. Gomorrah reached up and pushed her mask in. ¡°I can never get used to places like this,¡± she said. I turned, walking backwards a few steps. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± I asked. ¡°These places are filled with life.¡± ¡°They¡¯re... I don¡¯t want to say filthy, but, well.¡± She turned to the side, and I could tell she was looking over to a pair of girls, teens if I had to guess, both in neon shorts and bikini tops and little else. Joygirls, probably. Looking for a gullible Joe to fuck and/or rob. ¡°It¡¯s a bit low-class for you?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m hardly from a rich background,¡± she said. I shrugged. A place like this had a community around it. The folk here knew each other, even if just in passing. They wouldn¡¯t stop to help if one of them was bleeding out, but they might spare a friendly nod or something. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. It was the kind of place I¡¯d wished I¡¯d grown up in. The lower-middles, where there was still work around if you knew where to look, and where the occasional idiot who¡¯d pulled in a big win would spread the joy around a little. You wouldn¡¯t live long, but your life wouldn¡¯t be complete shit. ¡°Are you hungry?¡± I asked as we crossed a shop where some pimple-faced teen was dropping slices of vat-protein into some sort of bread cone. There was an entirely fresh slab of pseudo-meat rotating on a spit behind him, perfectly square and sweating under the heat from a couple of red-hot elements. ¡°Not anymore,¡± Gomorrah said. I shrugged. I still had that steak from early working around in my gut, but I figured it was a bit too healthy for me, and I had to balance it out with something more my class. ¡°You do you,¡± I said. The waypoints led us to a four-way, then off to the right down a street without half as many lights and twice as many ads hanging off the walls. I slowed my pace down a bit. ¡°Keep sharp,¡± I said. ¡°What?¡± Gamorrah asked. ¡°The ads. Cigarettes, vapes, pills, and guns,¡± I said while gesturing to the holograms. Half of them were of very sexy, very digital women smoking while trying to catch our eyes or of action-hero sorts endorsing guns that were made for people really into compensation. ¡°What of them?¡± Gomorrah asked. There were fewer people around. Not as many beggars, more girls and the occasional boy next to intimately dark entrances. No manned food stalls either. ¡°You can tell a lot from ads,¡± I said. ¡°The folks that put them up have a vested interest and make sure they target their audience, you know?¡± ¡°I suppose.¡± ¡°Around your part of the city, I bet there are lots of ads for bibles or... I don¡¯t know, Jesus wine? TV evangelists? Whatever it is you religious types like. Back there, there was food and insurance and job sites. The kind of stuff that the people living there need.¡± ¡°And here it¡¯s drugs and guns,¡± Gomorrah said. She wasn¡¯t dumb. ¡°So the people here need those things.¡± ¡°The people here have proven statistically likely enough to buy those things that it¡¯s cost-effective to put up ads for them,¡± I said. ¡°At least, that¡¯s how it was explained to me.¡± Gomorrah nodded, and I saw her hunching a bit. She brought her arms up, sliding her hands into her opposite sleeves. I didn¡¯t think it wise to make oneself small, but we were just passing by, and it wasn¡¯t time for street living lessons. There were two ways to move through a dangerous part. Three, really. You moved fast. You moved like you fit in. Or you made small and tried to look unappetizing. The way we were dressed, even if we weren¡¯t covered in chrome and spit-shined like some fancy corporate stooge, still hinted that we had a few credits to spare. It was better to make it look like that was because we weren¡¯t to fuck with than looking like someone that had followed their GPS off to the wrong corner. Catherine, could you look to your left? Behind the hologram of a woman with a cheap rifle. I let out a sigh when I noticed a kid staring at us from behind a dancing holographic woman using a rifle as some sort of marital aid. He had one eye glowing with the tell-tale sign of someone with some cheap aftermarket aug. ¡°Myalis, why did you pick this road?¡± It is the route to your destination that requires the least time spent lingering in gang-infested areas. ¡°Hmm, fair enough, I guess.¡± I looked at the kid again and made sure to focus on his eyes. ¡°Any way you can tell me what he¡¯s up to?¡± Sending a live feed of you and Gomorrah to three young men with surprisingly varied criminal records who happen to be waiting in an alley some hundred meters away. ¡°That¡¯s nice. Any chance you could tell them not to pull off whatever they¡¯re thinking of doing?¡± Only if I get creative. None of them have augmentations. They¡¯re using a tablet of all things to see the feed from the child. Give me a moment, it might take some convincing them, at least if they¡¯ve consumed as many narcotics as I suspect. I reached into my jacket and pulled out my Trench Maker. ¡°We might need to do some negotiating,¡± I said. *** Chapter Twenty-Four - Choosing to Die Chapter Twenty-Four - Choosing to Die ¡°Modern policing is very successful. As long as you¡¯re in a sector that is deemed safe (often marked with the colour code ¡®white¡¯), then the rate of violence is actually some of the lowest ever recorded in human history. Occasionally, policing forces will descend into areas with higher levels of violence (also called ¡®brown¡¯ zones) in order to secure the citizens there against potential violent criminals. There are many tactics that the modern cop uses to tell if a person is a threat. That includes surveillance AI routines, automatic record scrapers and the good old M.I.N.O.R.I.T.Y. technique for determining if the cop will be suspended for firing upon a potential suspect! There¡¯s no longer any need to worry about corruption! Our own internal auditing and reporting system has cleared every one of our officers of any suspicions.¡± --Ad for Dirty, an international policing agency, 2052 *** ¡°Look at these fine ladies,¡± one of them said. Our greeters were seven young men. Most barely out of their teens, but two of them looked like they were pushing thirty or so. Pretty old for street rats. That either meant they were important, tough, lucky, or had fallen in late. All but the last was usually a bad sign. I¡¯d spoken to some middle-class sorts before. Mostly through the obligatory socializing parts of my shitty schooling where we had to talk to other kids on similar programs across the country. Of course, the school programs listened to everything we said to make profiles of us later, but that was a given. When I talked about street rats, the middle-class sort always had the same mental image. Guys with crazy hair, lots of leather, and too many spikes on their clothes. The image wasn¡¯t entirely wrong, some gangs really went for that straight-to-streaming look. But the average street rat? They weren¡¯t going out and buying ten-thousand credit pseudo-leather jackets and dying their hair. They were lucky if a single thing they wore wasn¡¯t picked out of a second-hand pile or someone else¡¯s fresh corpse. These seven were that sort. The only sun they saw was in the glow of neon ads, and their teeth had more colours than their hair. I looked at Gomorrah, but she was quiet, mask fixed on the nearest of them. I like to imagine she was unimpressed under there. I wasn¡¯t so blas¨¦. These sorts might have spent nothing on clothes and less on hygiene, but when they did have cash, it went into one of three things. Drugs, ass, and guns. And these guys only looked a little high, and very horny. Shifting my shoulders, I looked for whichever one stood out as the leader of the bunch. ¡°You sure you wanna do this?¡± I asked. One of them grinned. He shouldn¡¯t have. ¡°Yeah girl. You¡¯re a fine enough looking piece, and that arm of yours.¡± He whistled. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t mind that wrapped around my member.¡± I sighed. ¡°Gomorrah, I know you¡¯re fine with killing antithesis, but how are you on killing normies?¡± ¡°You mean human beings?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°I was about to bring it up. While murder¡¯s never been something the average Christian is against, I find it a bit distasteful when it¡¯s of human beings.¡± ¡°Right, right,¡± I said. ¡°But won¡¯t all of these idiots have a much happier life in... heaven or whatever?¡± I asked. ¡°We¡¯re just speeding things along.¡± ¡°Cute,¡± she said. ¡°It doesn¡¯t work that way. And I doubt heaven would want anything to do with this lot, half of them have records.¡± ¡°So, we talk our way out, then shoot if things go sideways,¡± I said. Nodding I turned back to the lot. ¡°Y¡¯all know we¡¯re Samurai, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, so what?¡± one of them said. He looked particularly intelligent and wise with his pants needing to be tugged up after every sentence, like an entirely new and horrifying sort of punctuation. ¡°We don¡¯t believe the shit the corpos spout. ¡®Specially not ¡®bout you lot.¡± ¡°That¡¯s... well, that¡¯s up to you, I guess,¡± I said. I looked to the others, trying to spot one I could talk to that wasn¡¯t braindead. One nearer the back looked like he¡¯d never come back from an overdose before. ¡°What about you? You willing to risk it?¡± I asked. He was a bit younger. Maybe my age. Not old enough that the cops wouldn¡¯t beat him bloody but young enough that maybe he could get his shit together. ¡°Um, yeah, yeah, I¡¯m with my boys. Just two of you.¡± They laughed, shifting sub-machine guns around and fiddling with their little handguns. It was weird. A week ago I¡¯d have been scared shitless about this and trying to hide it. Now I was just annoyed. One of them reached out and grabbed my flesh and blood arm with his greasy hand. ¡°Come on, put up a bit of a fight at least.¡± A twitch and my augs pinged the guns on my back. Both of them deploying and aiming at the nearest idiots. My new arm wrapped around the asshole grabbing my forearm and squeezed. I was pretty sure the bones in his arm weren¡¯t meant to make splintery noises. ¡°First one of you who puts his finger on a trigger gets to test out my new railgun,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s a virgin gun you know. Never took an asshole¡¯s head off. You¡¯ll get to be its first.¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The guy that had been grabbing me scoffed and pulled on my arm. Not screaming from his arm being crushed? He was either hyped up on something good, or had augs to suppress pain. He was a heavy guy, when he tugged me towards him there was little my skinny ass could do but follow. That was, until my railgun hummed for just a second, then made a sound like someone exhaling hard. The man stood still for a while, the loonie-sized hole smoking where the bridge of his nose was slowly filling with melted brain gunk and sizzling from the heat along the edge of the new piercing. I tugged my arm free and pulled my Trench Maker out just as his body collapsed. ¡°Guess who just learned their last lesson about respecting people¡¯s personal spaces?¡± The other six tugged their guns up. It looked like it had just clicked with them that shit was real. ¡°You bitch!¡± ¡°We told you guys that we don¡¯t want trouble,¡± I said. My railgun started to hum again and my tail whipped around to my side, spikes deploying from it and the end sparking to life with blue flames. ¡°That¡¯s one of your friends dead. We¡¯re not here to clear the place of rats, so how about you move on?¡± ¡°You¡¯re just a human, like us,¡± one of them said. The same idiot that didn¡¯t believe in Samurai, or whatever. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± I said. ¡°But you¡¯re underestimating how much of a bitch I am. See, Gomorrah here? She likes lighting things on fire. But she¡¯s nice. She¡¯ll preach your ears off before killing you. I won¡¯t. I¡¯ve never cared for anyone that wasn¡¯t one of mine, and none of you lot are one of mine.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be telling the bosses about this!¡± ¡°You¡¯ll tell your boss that you ambushed a pair of Samurai minding their own damned business and threatened them?¡± I asked. ¡°Are you a fucking moron? Your bosses will hang you for being braindead.¡± ¡°You know, I¡¯m starting to think maybe I could light them up,¡± Gomorrah said. She raised a hand, and a foot long beam of searing-hot flame snuck out from her sleeve and wavered before her. ¡°Yo! You can¡¯t like, burn people. That¡¯s against the Geneva convention thing!¡± one of them said. I... wasn¡¯t expecting that kind of reference. ¡°It¡¯s more of a Geneva suggestion for us,¡± I said. ¡°Now, we have business elsewhere, and you¡¯re wasting our time. So, if you could kindly fuck off, that would be really appreciated.¡± The rats looked to each other, then came to the unanimous decision to run away. They did it with a swagger, as if trying to convince anyone looking that it wasn¡¯t a full-on retreat, but they still left us be. ¡°Did you really have to kill him?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Probably not,¡± I said. I didn¡¯t dwell on the body next to me much. ¡°I haven¡¯t exactly invested in non-lethals though, and I don¡¯t know if I could take someone of that size one-on-one. Also, my head isn¡¯t as bulletproof as the rest of me.¡± ¡°You really need to see to that,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°It¡¯s the only part you can¡¯t replace. It should be the part you¡¯re the most keen on protecting.¡± I sighed. ¡°Yeah, I guess. Don¡¯t really like hats though.¡± ¡°Get a shield, or a helmet. One of these days one of those sorts of punks will pull one of those anti-antithesis guns from somewhere and your head will be mulched.¡± ¡°You can do funeral rites, yeah?¡± ¡°No, no I can¡¯t. And I wouldn¡¯t for you. You¡¯d think someone like you would have better survival instincts.¡± I frowned. ¡°What does ¡®someone like you¡¯ mean? And are you really shitting on my survival instincts miss ¡®the lanes are a suggestion?¡¯¡± Gomorrah humphed and continued on. I had to jog to catch up. ¡°You know, I kind of expected you to just kill them all.¡± ¡°Should I have?¡± ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be appropriate of me to say yes. But at the same time, they didn¡¯t seem like very virtuous people.¡± I rubbed at my lip a bit while thinking of an answer. I understood her wanting to off the idiots. I wouldn¡¯t shed a tear for any of them. At the same time... ¡°You know, this is gonna sound really cheesy.¡± ¡°What is?¡± ¡°When I was a kid they had these, uh, re-reruns, I guess, of these old comics. When I got to the orphanage for the first time. That was before I found Lucy. This older kid gave me this collection. All pirated of course. I lost it when I switched augs at some point. But... yeah. I used to read these stories about old Samurai. Street warriors. Heroes. And they¡¯d always try to do the right thing. I kinda wanted to be like that.¡± ¡°That¡¯s... kind of cute.¡± I glared at the nun. ¡°No, really. It¡¯s na?ve, and that¡¯s coming from a Christian, but it¡¯s kind of endearing. I guess that¡¯s why you were chosen to become a Samurai.¡± I shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe. Anyway, it doesn¡¯t feel right to kill idiots when you don¡¯t need to, and where we are now? There¡¯s not much we have no choice in doing.¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Five - Ramen Break Chapter Twenty-Five - Ramen Break ¡°Certain traditions are fated to fade away. Sometimes they are kept alive by historians and dedicated practitioners, but as technology moves on and culture shifts, the need for some traditions just ceases. Some, on the other hand, especially those that were able to adapt, to become commercialized and commodified, not only survive, but thrive. New cultures adopt them, they become a symbol of something greater, and in so doing, are immortalized, at least for the moment. When I was a young man in Japan, I, like many others, enjoyed the quick and dirty foods of the convenience store and street vendors. None of these more than the ramen that kept me fed through years of schooling and bachelorhood. That is why, when I saw the rise of automation, I saw my chance to take on an old tradition, a symbol, and help it evolve into something new. It was a grand risk, but I believe the rewards have been worth it.¡° --Minato Watanabe, CEO, founder, and sole employee of Automata-Ramencorp International *** Because of the way the building was laid out, the mercs¡¯ place was set at the end of this long corridor. To one side was a long wall with nothing on it but a few little vents and a couple of cameras. Along the opposite side was a Korean nail salon, of all things. Gomorrah and I never got to that corridor, of course. When we reached the building the mercs were staying at, we went up a few floors and picked some seats at this shitty little android-operated ramen stand. The bot behind the counter wasn¡¯t one of those fancy models trying to look human. It was just a cheap assembly of hard plastic over poorly-oiled actuators and servos. Most of the cooking was done through a conveyor system, so all it had to do was handle the transactions and put bowls in front of customers. Gomorrah paid. I slurped up a few freshly overboiled noodles and blinked as my eyes watered from the heat on my tongue. ¡°Ah, okay,¡± I said. ¡°So, the front entrance is obviously a no-go.¡± ¡°Obviously,¡± Gomorrah said. She opened her third pack of spicy sauce and dumped it into her bowl. ¡°There¡¯s brazen and then there¡¯s brazen.¡± I nodded and spun my chopsticks around, ignoring the ads scrolling along their sides. ¡°Yeah. So that leaves my first less-dumb idea. We, or at least I, go in by the windows on the outside.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not afraid that they have those monitored?¡± ¡°All of them?¡± I asked. I shrugged. ¡°Yeah, you know what, they might. They had some pretty good gear, and it took a lot to track them to here. Wouldn¡¯t surprise me if they went overboard with the safety stuff too.¡± ¡°Could your Myalis disable the security?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°My AI isn¡¯t strong with that, but I have a few points to spend.¡± I can. While we¡¯re playing telephone, do you mind if I connect with Gomorrah¡¯s AI directly? ¡°Go ahead,¡± I said. Gomorrah looked at me quizzically for a moment before her mouth twisted. ¡°Ah,¡± she said. ¡°Pleased to meet you, Myalis,¡± she said. The ramen bot juttered, then spoke with a familiar voice. ¡°A pleasure to meet you as well,¡± Myalis said. The bot shifted to the side, its head, which was a boxy thing with a pair of sensors and a couple of gang-tags sprayed across it, turned towards me and spoke with a new voice, masculine, and smooth. ¡°Greetings, Stray Cat, I am Atyacus, Gomorrah¡¯s AI assistant.¡± ¡°Oh, uh, hey,¡± I said. I waved to the bot. ¡°Are you two just... going to share a body?¡± ¡°It does simplify things to a degree. We¡¯re sharing data as we speak, and most Vanguard do seem to enjoy having something to address physically while they speak,¡± Atyacus said. He--and it definitely sounded like a he--had a cultured sort of voice. Like one of those fedora-wearing guys in those black and white movies. ¡°Cool,¡± I said. ¡°While you¡¯re in there, can you get me another bowl of ramen? I wanna try the pork one.¡± It was Myalis that replied. ¡°What is Lucy going to say when she tries to pinch you and finds more than she bargained for?¡± I glared. ¡°I won¡¯t get fat. I¡¯ve got an orphan¡¯s metabolism.¡± ¡°Is that even a thing?¡± Gomorrah asked. I shrugged. ¡°Sure. So, the plan? We use Myalis to shut off security, then I slip in through a window?¡± ¡°Do we even need to enter the building at all?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Unfortunately,¡± the ramen bot who was currently Myalis said. ¡°We do. Other than their connection to the water and power grids of the main building, I can detect only one communication line into the building. Specifically, to a router on the topmost floor.¡± Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. A square opened in my vision, footage, live I guessed, of the back of a cubical. There were a few posters pinned to the wall, and a calendar, but not much else. ¡°That¡¯s the most I can get from it. The rest of their network seemed to be wired, and it¡¯s a closed loop. I can access one of their printers, but they haven¡¯t used it for anything very sensitive.¡± ¡°Okay, so we need to get in, then we can connect to their network?¡± I asked. ¡°You might not necessarily need to enter the building,¡± Gomorrah¡¯s AI said. The whole sharing a body thing was weird. ¡°If my colleague only requires access to their network, then it¡¯s possible, likely even, that some of their wiring is in their walls. In which case you could connect to their security with nothing more than an incision.¡± I rubbed at my chin, then poked at some sort of pseudomeat flowing in my ramen broth. ¡°Yeah, okay,¡± I said. ¡°Gomorrah, can you manage that? Like, do you have something to see wires?¡± I noticed that the lower part of her mask was raised for the first time. It made it look like her mouth was right over her nose. ¡°I can manage,¡± she said after she finished chewing delicately. ¡°Will you be coming in from the outside at the same time?¡± ¡°That depends. I do like the image of rappelling down the side of their building and busting in through a window, but, well, I¡¯ve got bombs too. Those would work on their front door, I think.¡± ¡°Are you really choosing based on which one makes you feel cooler?¡± Gomorrah asked. The disappointment really came through when she wasn¡¯t wearing a mask. ¡°No?¡± I tried. The nun sighed and got to her feet. ¡°Where would be the best place to try and cut through the wall?¡± she asked the ramen bot. The robot shifted, then Myalis came through with a reply. ¡°I suspect... here.¡± The wireframe of the building returned, now with a blinking red circle on the floor with a garage. ¡°That¡¯s two down from the front door,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯ll mean if they try to run, you¡¯ll be there.¡± ¡°We could pinch them in, keep them from making a run for it,¡± Gomorrah said. I nodded. ¡°I really wanted to try the windows. Oh well. Get into their system with Myalis¡¯ help, then if we can spot the girl, we leave and call for the big guns. No girl means we break in and ask them all some questions the old fashion way.¡± ¡°The old fashion way?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°With high explosives,¡± I replied. She shook her head and started to walk off. ¡°I¡¯ll keep in touch,¡± she said. ¡°Atyacus, you staying in that bot?¡± ¡°Of course not,¡± the ramen bot said. I turned to it a moment later. ¡°So, any idea of what we should be doing?¡± ¡°Have you tried our two for one special? Two meat flavour packs for the price of one!¡± the bot said. I rolled my eyes, tipped the rest of the broth in my bowl down my gullet, then did the same to Gomorrah¡¯s leftovers because wasting was a sin, then I got up and moved off. ¡°We need somewhere to hide in the meantime,¡± I said. ¡°Somewhere close to the baddies¡¯ front door.¡± The nearest business is a nail salon. There are a few other stores on the same floor. I brought my hands up and looked at my nails. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve never really cared much for nails. More of a Lucy thing. Can I even paint my cyberarm¡¯s nails?¡± The nails retract to allow plasma cutters to deploy. ¡°I bet they don¡¯t have that colour at the salon,¡± I said. ¡°Right, let¡¯s go waste some time then.¡± Some ten minutes later, when I walked in--with Myalis fudging the results of any camera looking my way, of course--the little old lady behind the counter took one look at my organic hand, then started babbling. ¡°I don¡¯t speak, uh,¡± I looked to the nearest poster, which was covered in some Asian writing. ¡°Squiggles.¡± I think that might be racist. ¡°Is it racism when you¡¯re mocking someone¡¯s language?¡± I asked. Yes. ¡°You learn something new every day,¡± I muttered. ¡°So, lady, can you make my fingers pretty? I need to look extra girly before I go blowing things up later.¡± You don¡¯t strike me as the girly type. I grinned. ¡°Well, If I¡¯m real lucky, and Lucy¡¯s in the right mood, these fingers might end up somewhere girly later.¡± Disgusting. The lady didn¡¯t know why I was chuckling, and somehow, that only made it funnier. *** Chapter Twenty-Six - Red Carpet Treatment Chapter Twenty-Six - Red Carpet Treatment ¡°After the end of the second world war and the advent of more advanced weaponry, there was a noticeable shift in the way armed forces reacted. It still took some decades for what is essentially an entirely new SoP to take effect, but by the late 90s most modern militaries understood that a small number of well-equipped soldiers could be used to greater effect than large units of poorly-trained conscripts. In many situations, a small team of well-trained soldiers could make a large, impactful difference. Whether that is taking down a VIT or sabotaging enemy infrastructure, going in silently is not only more effective, it also allows for a degree of denial on the assaulter¡¯s part. The samurai generally don¡¯t fit that bill. Almost universally, they dislike being quiet. Something about their mentality just does not agree with the idea that a problem can be solved without explosions, lasers, or explosive lasers.¡± --Excerpt from ¡®An Analysis of the Capability of the Modern Unit vs.The Samurai,¡¯ 2029 *** I raised my hand and turned it this way and that. My nails shone pretty and rainbow. There was a bit of a holographic effect with them, little hearts in the middle that only showed up at certain angles. ¡°Neat,¡± I said. ¡°Yes yes, very very pretty,¡± the old woman said. I grinned back at her and looked at the time. It had been a nice way to spend ten minutes. I bet that Lucy would love that kind of pampering too. Maybe we could order one of those massage people in our hotel room. That was a thing that was done... probably. I wasn¡¯t up to date on how the rich wasted their credits. ¡°Myalis, can you transfer over some credits to the nice lady?¡± I asked. This will basically empty your account. ¡°Yeah, but Lucy will like it.¡± The woman looked at me quizzically for a bit, then something in her eyes glowed and her smile only grew. ¡°Thank you, honourable customer. You go pinch many bottoms now.¡± ¡°Damn right,¡± I said as I shoved off her chair, then stretched. ¡°Any news from Gomorrah yet?¡± Atyacus has kept in contact with me this entire time. They¡¯ve reached the appropriate location, though it took convincing a guard to look the other way. ¡°A merc guard?¡± I asked. No, the location where Atyacus proposed breaking through the wall is a warehouse for medical supplies. It has twenty-four hour guards and surveillance. I suspect that the Hour Men encouraged the placement of a high-security facility next to their offices to act as a sort of additional deterrent. Atyacus disagrees. We¡¯ve been going back and forth for what for you would be subjective years. ¡°You do that a lot?¡± I asked. ¡°Argue with other AI?¡± We need to do something to pass the time. Arguing online is one of the few hobbies we share with humanity. ¡°That and trolling people.¡± I would only ever troll you, you know that. I rolled my eyes and came to a stop next to the exit of the nail salon. I leaned against the counter and tapped my feet, then, because there was nothing else to do, I logged onto my media feeds. It had been... maybe forty-eight hours since I¡¯d last checked. That was practically a lifetime. Normally I was pretty reserved, only looking to see if anything neat had happened maybe once an hour. I couldn¡¯t remember the last time I¡¯d gone so long without looking, but then the last couple of days were a little hectic. And, as the site checked my biometrics auto-logged me, my vision was filled with gifs, ads, stills taken from the friend of a friend, more ads, news posts, news posts that were actually ads, government warnings about the incursion, and then ads made to look like government warnings about the incursion. You have over six thousand private messages. All from the last day. ¡°I¡¯m popular,¡± I said. Ninety-two percent are targeted ads. Two percent are offers from various corporations aware of your status as Vanguard. Three percent are from people begging for assistance, the remainder are poorly designed malware. ¡°Annnd I¡¯m already bored,¡± I said. That might be for the best. Gomorrah has spliced into the office¡¯s internal network. Their security software isn¡¯t terribly impressive. ¡°I guess they were placing their bets on it being hard to access instead of difficult to hack into. Probably the smarter option,¡± I said. The media feeds disappeared, and Myalis replaced them with camera feeds from all over the inside of the Hour Men base. For the most part it matched the layout of the blueprints, with a few extra doors and what looked like a couple of windows installed in others. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. There were also lots of half walls, and what looked like chokepoints built into the office space. The top floor was all desks and cubicles and a few meeting rooms. The next floor down had bunks, a small interior range, an armoury and some showers and a break room. The bottom most floor, the garage, was the largest of the lot, mostly open space with a couple of nondescript cars tucked away next to an honest to god hover tank. ¡°How many people?¡± I asked. Thirty-two have appeared on screen. Every room has a camera, though there are a few blind spots. ¡°I can¡¯t see Katallina,¡± I said. She doesn¡¯t seem to be present. ¡°Can you connect me to Gomorrah?¡± I asked. A moment later I heard my favourite nun breathing as if she was leaning over me. Probably a microphone in that mask of hers. ¡°Any ideas?¡± she asked. ¡°Girl¡¯s not here. Myalis, you see any sign of her in their software?¡± Some traces, yes. Or perhaps calling them possibilities would be more accurate. Atyacus¡¯ voice came over the line. ¡°It seems as if the Hour Men accepted four contracts in the last forty-eight hours. They don¡¯t keep any detailed notes on these. In fact, a lack of paperwork seems to be part of their operating procedures.¡± ¡°So we need someone to ask some questions to,¡± I said. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll knock at their front door.¡± ¡°Seriously?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°I mean, we need to find out, and I don¡¯t feel like chasing leads all day. So we ask. Can you take out that tank?¡± ¡°I can,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Most things made of metal will melt eventually, but that¡¯s besides the point. How are we going to do this?¡± I leaned to the side and looked down the corridor where the front door of the Hour Man offices was tucked away. It was a heavy-looking door. All steel and bolts. Not terribly decorative either, and I guessed that the walls were filled with fold-out surprises. ¡°I fling a bomb at their front wall, then when the dust settles ask to speak to their boss?¡± ¡°That sounds like a bit much,¡± Gomorrah said. I rubbed a finger under my nose. ¡°They kidnapped a kid. I don¡¯t think we need to go in soft and polite.¡± ¡°But soft and polite might get us further,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Hmph.¡± I tapped my fresh nails on the counter for a moment, then nodded. ¡°You know what, sure. But you send them a message or whatever. I¡¯m not expecting them to exactly roll out the red carpet.¡± These guys had to know what they were doing, and what the reaction of the average samurai would be. In their place, I¡¯d start running the moment I found out a samurai was on my tail, and if that meant fighting my way out, then so be it. The dead couldn¡¯t be punished. ¡°Sending now,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I¡¯m close enough to their lower exit to stop anyone trying to escape that way.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m within spitting distance of their front door,¡± I said. I looked around and spotted my crossbow leaning against the backside of the counter. Nearly forgot about it. Would probably have made the old lady rich if I did. I grabbed the crossbow and pulled the bolt on its side back before flicking its safety off with a twitch of my augs. There were a few explosive bolts left in it. ¡°Did you send the--¡± I began. The feeds of the cameras inside the building started to flash. Some sort of silent alarm had gone off and the lights flickered in response was my guess. The fine folks inside the building started running around, picking up weapons and armour even as guns deployed from the walls and ceilings. ¡°Well, it doesn¡¯t look like they¡¯re agreeing to anything just yet,¡± I said. I stepped out into the corridor. Maybe they would see me standing outside and reconsider things. I kind of expected the guns that deployed from next to the door. I didn¡¯t expect the twin punches to my gut that sent me tumbling back with a heavy cough. Laying on the ground, I panted for breath, then touched my chest to confirm that I wasn¡¯t bleeding or anything. I found two coin-sized bits of metal flattened over my armour. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Bombs it is.¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Seven - Sometimes a Girl Just Wants to Blow Shit Up Chapter Twenty-Seven - Sometimes a Girl Just Wants to Blow Shit Up ¡°There are ten billion people on Earth right now. And, by our best estimates, approximately one in one hundred thousand is a Samurai. That¡¯s point zero-zero-one percent of the world¡¯s population. We see Samurai all over. Getting one to act as a mascot for a corporation is considered a huge victory, and even those that try to avoid the spotlight will still be plastered in gossip rags and talked about on Mesh and internet forums. Samurai are natural-born celebrities. For all that, the likelihood of any one person actually meeting a Samurai in their lifetime is minuscule. I think that this nearly mystical level of rarity just adds to the occultism around the Samurai.¡± --Excerpt from ¡®The Cult of the Samurai,¡¯ 2044 *** I had a bit of a problem. For one, I was on the floor, chest heaving and feeling like I was a bit past the point where I was meant to die. I wasn¡¯t dead though, which was nice. That would change very soon if the turrets placed next to the doors decided to open fire again. I had no idea if they could break through my armour, and I didn¡¯t feel like finding out. Also, one of them had shot me in the tit and I was betting that would leave a bruise. I raised my cybernetic arm towards the door, and with a flick of my augs, had the top of it open and reveal the rocket launcher within. The rocket came out with a sound like a hollow fart and whistled across the corridor. Then, with an impact that made the floor skip under me, it turned the front wall of the merc¡¯s hideout into a nice big crater. The old lady at the nail saloon came rushing out. ¡°What is this!¡± I coughed, turned over, then pushed myself up to my feet. ¡°Me being a bit dumb,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis. A helmet please.¡± Certainly. New Purchase: Mark IV TIGER-C Helmet Points reduced to... 8,366 A box appeared by my feet and I scooped down to pick it up. ¡°You¡¯re samurai!¡± the lady said. ¡°Yup,¡± I said. ¡°Nearly a dead one too.¡± The helmet, of course, had a pair of cat-ear slots on the top, and a sort of mask-like front with a visor over the top of the face. It was sleek, gunmetal highlights, a sapphire visor and that familiar blue steel covering the majority of it. It also had whiskers. ¡°Really?¡± Those are very sophisticated devices. They analyse the composition of the air around you and reproduce it within the helmet without any harmful effects. They also detect minute vibrations in the air, making up any losses of audibility caused by covering your ears. I rolled my eyes as I tucked the helmet under one arm, then tied my hair back in a loose bun. On the helmet went. It was a bit snug, but not too much so. The moment it was on the insides inflated and it felt as though someone had buried my face in a layer of pillows. It would do. I stretched a little and pulled my Whisper off my shoulder to tuck it up against my chest. ¡°Go hide away,¡± I said to the old lady. ¡°Or maybe close up for the afternoon? I figure we¡¯re going to have a lot of curious people around soon.¡± The lady nodded and jogged off to her shop. Soon the shutters were rattling down over the front. I took off towards the mercenary base. My rocket had really screwed up the front door. The turrets that had tagged me were scattered everywhere in bits and the heavy door was crumpled as if it was a cardboard box and someone with a bat had gone to town on it. ¡°Gomorrah?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± I heard her reply. There was a faint crackle in the background. Gunfire? ¡°Are you meeting any resistance?¡± ¡°Uh. Yeah. I got shot in the tit.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t need to be so specific,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Are you alright?¡± ¡°Fine,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m about to kick in the front door. We¡¯re trying to keep anyone important-looking alive, right? ¡®Cause I¡¯m somewhat in a ¡®blow stuff up¡¯ mood right now.¡± ¡°I¡¯m well. Still at ninety-plus percent with my flamer fuel. The tank¡¯s inoperable, by the way. And yes, we want to keep some of them alive. I hope you have better luck than I have. These men don¡¯t seem keen on surrendering.¡± I brought Whisper up. ¡°We¡¯ll have to see. Stay in touch.¡± I kicked the door. Then when that didn¡¯t do much, I kicked it again. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.I sighed. ¡°Myalis, I need one of those black-hole bombs.¡± I think I have something for that. New Purchase: Mark II Dimensional Shunt Bomb Points reduced to... 8,361 I caught the grenade Myalis spawned for me out of the air and figured it out at a glance. Timer, trigger, little safety pin. Easy. Moving way back, I flicked the grenade over to the base of the door. It rolled off to the side a bit, but that wasn¡¯t a big deal. I aimed down the length of Whisper and waited. The world around the door warped, shifting in on itself like looking through poorly made glass. When the twisting finally stopped, everything in a rough circle, maybe two meters wide, was just gone. I stared at the open-mouthed face of a man with a bullet-proof vest on the other side. He raised a rifle and aimed it at me. My finger twitched and a bolt appeared in his shoulder. And then he exploded. ¡°Oh, shit,¡± I said. I twisted Whisper to the side and opened the bolt. ¡°What kind of ammo do I have?¡± Explosive tipped. Standard explosive. ¡°Shit, I need something a bit less lethal.¡± How non-lethal? I blinked. ¡°What does that even mean?¡± Non-lethal only means that the person hit isn¡¯t dead in the end. That leaves a lot of room for variation. I started forward. ¡°Got something like a gas maybe?¡± To compensate for your awful aim. That¡¯s a good idea. New Purchase: Gas-Bulb, Knock-Out-Bolt Points reduced to... 8,358 I picked up the magazine of bolts, dropped the one that was in Whisper, and slotted the new one in place. ¡°Okay then,¡± I said. I had to hop over a hole in the floor near where the grenade had gone off. I could see the floor below, but mostly just the top of some vents and such. It probably wasn¡¯t the best thing to do to a building¡¯s structural integrity to blow holes in it. The entrance opened out into a lobby, a large desk, all square and brutalist, a pair of doors leading off to the back, a bathroom off to the side. No benches or anything, but then the type of people coming here wouldn¡¯t be sitting down and waiting. I stepped over the bottom half of the guy I¡¯d shot, Whisper swaying from left to right as I scanned the room. No one. I was kind of expecting someone to show up, maybe a guard or two? Or maybe they were running down to meet Gomorrah. ¡°Can I have that security feed?¡± I asked. A trio of video feeds superimposed themselves over the top of my vision. The next room over front and centre, the next rooms after in the next two boxes. That at least explained where the people were. There were guys dressed in the standard uniform of a lifeless corporate goon. Slacks, a button-up shirt with some cutesy pattern, a too-tight tie. The vests and assault rifles they were grabbing were a bit unusual though. The two men and one woman carrying a crew-gun to the centre of the room where they shoved aside a potted plant and hooked the gun onto a plate on the ground was somewhat more concerning than the rest. I noticed one or two guys dressed more impressively being ushered down some stairs to the floor below. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°I guess those guys are the VIPs. So let¡¯s go get them.¡± You might want to note that the room you¡¯re in is currently filling with a nerve agent. ¡°What?¡± I asked. You¡¯re wearing a mask. It¡¯s a non-issue. I begged to differ. It at least explained why no one was waiting up front. They didn¡¯t want to get caught in their own gas. It also explained the masks with rebreather-looking-things the office workers were putting on. ¡°Gomorrah,¡± I said. ¡°Watch out for gases and such. They¡¯re using them up here.¡± ¡°Noted,¡± came her reply. ¡°I¡¯m going to pull back and buy something for that. Can you keep the pressure up?¡± ¡°Sure thing love,¡± I said. The doors leading into the office proper weren¡¯t slabs of reinforced steel, just plain old smart-glass doors, currently set to opaque. I made sure my shoulder-mounted guns were ready, then paused. ¡°Wait, they¡¯ve got masks. I need a different sort of ammo. Again.¡± I was going to point it out. The gas your bolts use is likely to bypass their rudimentary masks, but it will still take longer to affect them. I sighed. ¡°Man, I just want to blow things up. Why does everything need to be so complicated?¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Eight - The Opposite of Reassuring Chapter Twenty-Eight - The Opposite of Reassuring ¡°In the early 2000s there was a fear that the interconnectivity of the world could lead to trouble. Hacking was portrayed in the media as a new and terrifying crime. The reality was a little more pedestrian at first. A good programmer with malicious intent could maybe steal some files, mess with some machines, or perhaps spy on someone, but other than the occasional virus there wasn¡¯t too much to it. Then Augmentations became a new standard. Everyone had one, and the world became far, far more digital. By the 2030s one in ten people in the world had an aug. By 2040 that was up to four in ten. When 2050 rolled around, nine in ten people had an augmentation of some sort, most of them used to keep connected to local or international networks, social media, and other feeds. Hackers, those who knew what they were doing, could now turn a person¡¯s entire life into a living nightmare.¡± --Excerpt from The Rise of the Aug, 2052 *** My plan, insofar as I had one, was simple. Burst in, fire a few bolts into the room, then unload my railgun into the turret they were still setting up. It was a nice plan because I got to shoot things. I raised a booted foot, prepared to kick at the door, then I hesitated. It didn¡¯t look like a door with an actual lock on it. After making sure that my shoulder-mounted guns were set properly, I held Whisper close with one hand, then turned the door handle. A shove had the door moving in and got some of the office workers inside to look up. ¡°Hey guys!¡± I said. My railgun thumped and the gun emplacement in the middle of the room burst apart as a tiny bit of metal moving absurdly fast poked a hole through the middle of it. Whisper came up and I aimed more-or-less in the direction of the first idiots to bring their guns to bear. The first bolt I fired thumped into and through a cubical wall, the next rammed into a projector box and fritzed it out. ¡°Myalis, masks,¡± I said. Fortunately, Myalis seemed to get what I meant. The gun on my opposite shoulder burped, twitched, then burped again. All across the room, masks were shredded apart as Myalis fired through them. I was expecting the room to fill with gas or something, but there wasn¡¯t anything like that. The nearest office worker opened fire with an SMG and I ducked back out of the room and moved away from the doorway before I got sprayed. ¡°Myalis, why isn¡¯t that room filled with gas?¡± I asked. It should be. If you¡¯re wondering why you can¡¯t see it... you are aware that not all gases are visible to the naked human eye, right? ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°I was expecting... I don¡¯t know, orange-yellow gas or something.¡± So that anyone you face can see the gas and react to it? ¡°It¡¯s always colourful in the movies,¡± I said. I¡¯m sure. I snorted and moved over to the door opposite the one I¡¯d barged in from. Bringing the camera feed back revealed that two of the office workers on the other side had already slumped over, and the rest looked drunk. A clever one by the back had switched his mask out for a less holey one, but he was still stumbling about. Opening the door slowly and quietly, I flicked on the invisibility on my jacket and held Whisper close. There was a neat puncture that was visually warped where I¡¯d been shot early. Annoying that. I¡¯d need to replace the jacket at some point. A stop by the nearest office worker revealed that while he was slumped over and noodly, he was still breathing. ¡°Nice,¡± I muttered. ¡°Stray Cat?¡± Gomorrah asked. I shuffled past the gun emplacement, heading towards the back rooms. ¡°Yeah?¡± I asked while looking into the offices I passed. Most of them were empty. Just desks with a few knick-knacks and workstations. No decorations beyond the occasional bland calendar. No pictures of family, no toys or models or anything. Most corporations wished that they could have offices this bland, but something about being human made you more productive when you had a bit of colour around, and at least some things that helped pretend you weren¡¯t some fleshy automata. ¡°I¡¯ve cleared the garage, and all the rooms around it. Also, three of them surrendered. I have them sitting next to a firebomb.¡± ¡°That¡¯s... okay,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m only at the entrance of the main office space. Still need to check some of the rooms around here.¡± ¡°I see. I¡¯d keep clearing things, but the access to the middle floors is heavily reinforced. I don¡¯t know if I can break through with what I have. And from what I can see, they have some nasty armaments on the other side.¡± Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Can¡¯t you just buy some bigger toys?¡± I asked. The next bit of the top floor was separated by an intersection. To the left were the washrooms and a small lunch room and kitchen. The cameras there were pretty extensive, especially in the washrooms. ¡°Creepy,¡± I muttered as I turned left instead. ¡°I could,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°But I don¡¯t like the idea of running into people prepared to face me. We¡¯re not immortal, you know?¡± ¡°Hmm, yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Any access to their ventilation system? Power? We could siege them.¡¯ Gomorrah hummed. ¡°I think I had a similar idea, yes. Once you find the access from above, we could try to negotiate with them.¡± ¡°Stuck between two hard places, huh?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s how the expression goes, but something like that.¡± The hall was lined with bigger offices. With actual desks and better workstations. One long conference room had a nice table floating on a pair of lifts in the middle. The front offices had looked like they were bought with a budget, and I was guessing this is where the actual budget went. ¡°Alright,¡± I said as I finally found the stairs leading down. At least, the door leading to the stairwell. A door currently barricaded with thick metal shutters. ¡°Found the stairs. No resistance or anything so far. Not even a second set of turrets.¡± ¡°Check the feeds from the second floor,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°They have corridors at the end of both staircases. With crew-operated guns at each. I¡¯m counting about a dozen men in some very nice gear too.¡± I rubbed at my chin. ¡°Any way we can ping their augs? Send them a nice friendly message?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Give me a moment.¡± I nodded and backed away from the door. ¡°Think we could have broken into their augs from the start?¡± I asked Myalis. Perhaps. Though most people who can afford it don¡¯t place augmentations in their bodies without at least some security measures. ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said.

	NOTICE?
	All individuals within the Hour Men Mercenary building are now officially notified that the following Samurai wish to question you: Gomorrah Stray Cat Please surrender. Lower all weapons, remove all offensive equipment from your person, and prepare for arrest and questioning.

¡°Damn G-girl,¡± I said. ¡°Way to be polite and non-threatening there. Very diplomatic of you.¡± Vanguard are not chosen for their diplomatic abilities. I let out a rather inappropriate giggle at that. A message was just sent out. Unsecured transmission. It¡¯s addressed to you and Gomorrah. ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°Can I hear it?¡± I asked. It¡¯s text. Displaying it now.

Dear Stray Cat and Gomorroah, Go fuck yourselves.

Gomorrah sighed. ¡°How polite. So do we just burn them all or are we going to try something else?¡± I considered it for a moment before replying. ¡°I¡¯m going to set a bomb up here by the door. Myalis, are they watching us?¡± Negative. ¡°Right. So, bomb by the door here. Then... I think I might come in through a window after all. If we can knock them out peacefully... ish, then we can ask them some questions later. While they¡¯re tied to a chair or something. Got that Gomorrah?¡± I could feel her hesitating for a moment. ¡°It might work. I don¡¯t like the idea of you hanging off the side of this building while they know we¡¯re assaulting them.¡± ¡°Ah, don¡¯t worry,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve never done anything like this.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the opposite of reassuring.¡± Snorting, I knelt down next to the door and flicked off the coms between myself and Gomorrah. ¡°I¡¯ll need a grenade. Motion sensor activated. Maybe... more knock-out gas? Something that¡¯ll keep people rooted here. Oh, those sticky bombs would do.¡± Certainly. Two purchases later, and down to eight-thousand three-fifty, I was setting up a surprise for anyone that came upstairs. ¡°Alright,¡± I said as I got back up. Bringing up the building plans helped pinpoint where the windows on the floor below were located. The nearest one that matched above was in the conference room. ¡°Time to swing on down and say hello to everyone downstairs.¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Nine - Spider Cat ~ Spider Cat Chapter Twenty-Nine - Spider Cat ~ Spider Cat ¡°The rich get richer. That¡¯s kind of just a thing. The super rich get higher. Not just metaphorically, but literally too. Life on Earth is generally acknowledged to be rather awful. So why not leave? With over twenty low-orbit installations, and an entire resort on the Moon and Mars*, Tesla-Travel Corp has you covered! *as of 2039 all Mars expeditions are cancelled.¡± --Ad for Moon Colony Alpha and former Mars Colony Bet, 2039. *** New Purchase: Tree Cat Grapple System Points Reduced to... 8003 The system was built like a backpack with some straps that went around the chest. It was fitted for me, which was handy because I couldn¡¯t imagine fitting something so tight on without it bruising my already sensitive chest. I stared at the two hooks that stuck out from the backpack with some degree of confusion. They were bulbous things, with little glass bits and a bunch of slots on them. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°I have no idea how these work.¡± They¡¯re multi-function hooks. Pressing them against a stud will launch a drill that will grab on. Leaving them loose will deploy some hooks from within, and the end is a sort of sponge that can fill with a powerful adhesive to cling onto a surface. They¡¯re meant to be usable in any situation. ¡°Well, that¡¯s neat, but where do I hook them if I don¡¯t want to die?¡± Please look at the wire-map of the building, I¡¯ll highlight the location of load-bearing supports. Press the hooks against those walls and they will grab on. Seeing as how I didn¡¯t feel like falling to my death, I followed Myalis¡¯ instructions, setting up the two hooks to burrow into the walls, then I trailed out the lines, still connected to the pack, all the way over to the window. It wasn¡¯t the sort of window meant to be opened. No one sane wanted to get a fresh breeze of smog into their air-conditioned office. So I got Whisper out, loaded one of the explosive bolts into it over the sleeping gas bolts, and blew one of the windows off. ¡°What¡¯s taking you so long?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°I¡¯m trying to make it so that I don¡¯t turn into so much mulch on hitting the ground,¡± I said. ¡°Well hurry up,¡± Gomorrah said. I stepped onto the window-sill, the cords from the grapple system trailing out behind me, then, with a step over the edge, I placed my foot down on the wall below and dropped out of the building. The system gave me just enough slack that I was able to stand ¡®straight¡¯ on the side of the building, my front facing the long drop below and my feet, with my awesome boots, planted on the wall. I had to take a step as a blast of wind shoved me to the side. The rear of the building was overlooking a street with cars shooting past some dozen meters above. The other buildings nearby turned the area into a sort of tunnel through which constant wind rumbled through. This wasn¡¯t one of those nice building fronts with fancy decorations. It was pure utility. Vents stuck out of the sides of grey-on-grey buildings and the headlights of the passing cars flashed across mirrored glass. At the bottom were rows of semi-trailers moving along sluggishly. I was thankful for the mask, it kept the stink of the city away as I got used to basically standing horizontally. I took a step, and the grapple system gave me just enough rope to make it feel as though I was walking normally. It still felt all sorts of wrong though. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m outside,¡± I said. ¡°Good,¡± was Gomorrah¡¯s reply. ¡°Testy much,¡± I muttered as I continued to walk down. There were three windows on this level. One about a foot tall and three wide lead to the armoury, another was rather normal-sized and led into the break room, and the third looked like it was boarded over on the other side, metal rails the only thing I could kinda see behind the glass. Planting my feet over the armoury window, I flicked over to the display of the camera inside the room. Two guys, both checking out some rifles. I held Whisper close, then reached into my jacket and pulled out my Trench Maker. Even when using my off-hand to aim, I could still hit a window that was at my feet. Three booms echoed out and a trio of fist-sized holes appeared more or less grouped together in the glass. The guys in the room jumped out of their skin and looked up at the window. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. I tried to bite down on my Trench Maker, bumped my mask, was thankful that no one saw that, then slid it away into its holster to bring Whisper to bear. One shot later and a bolt was buried into the armory¡¯s floor. I crab-walked away from the window while keeping an eye on the two mercs in the room. They jumped away from the bolt, one of them grabbing a helmet from a rack and tossing it onto the shaft in the time it would take someone else to blink stupidly. It only took a few seconds for them to start stumbling around. There wasn¡¯t any audio on the camera, but I could hear them with my new ears. ¡°Gas? Some sort... of, ah, crap.¡± ¡°The door!¡± One of them staggered over to the door and pressed a button next to it. ¡°Okay, okay,¡± he said as he wavered. His thumb landed on an intercom button. ¡°This is... uh... gas! Windows. They¡¯re using gas!¡± He slid down the wall, flopping to the ground alongside his buddy. It had taken about ten seconds for both of them to go down. Decently fast. From the camera feeds I could see those without masks scrambling to put them on, and someone jumped to a screen against one wall and started inputting a bunch of commands. They¡¯re increasing the speed at which air circulates and are pulling more air from what looks like an internal storage system. ¡°To negate the gas,¡± I said. ¡°These guys are pretty impressive.¡± They¡¯re decent, for poorly equipped humans. I moved over to the lounge window. They were clearing out of that room in a hurry. That was fine by me. I took my time loading an explosive bolt into Whisper. Then I aimed for the middle of the window. The glass burst apart, sending shards flying all over. I leapt ¡®up,¡¯ the grapple system loosening enough that I dropped down to above where the window had been, then fell into the room. I was really not good at three dimensional movement, I realized when I crashed unto the floor on my knees. Rolling over, I slid up behind a couch, then undid the clasps at the front of my backpack. ¡°They¡¯re here! In the lounge!¡± ¡°Barricade those doors!¡± ¡°Did they come from above or below?¡± ¡°Cameras are still down.¡± I snorted as I left the grapple pack on the ground next to me and stood up. ¡°They¡¯re really panicking, huh?¡± It seems so. ¡°Get the rocket launchers!¡± I frowned. ¡°Hmm.¡± That didn¡¯t sound like something I could tank. ¡°Myalis, I need a gas grenade.¡± Certainly. Do you want the gas to be coloured? ¡°I mean... that would be pretty cool,¡± I admitted. New Purchase: Knock-Out Gas Grenade: Pink Points Reduced to: 7998 I picked up the grenade off the ground before me and primed it. ¡°Thanks.¡± A jog over to the door later, and I leaned Whisper to the side, pulled out my Trench Maker, and punched a couple of holes into the door before flinging the grenade into the room. You know, I don¡¯t think you deserve any title related to stealth after all. ¡°It¡¯s proactive stealth,¡± I said as a plume of pinkish smoke wafted out of the hole in the door. The one problem with colourful gas was that it made seeing enemy movement on their cameras a real pain. Seeing them panic and rush away from the gas was kinda funny though, in a cathartic way. The guys at the gun emplacements rushed back into the main corridor, then stumbled back and away from the spreading pink cloud. The ventilation system was doing a good job of sucking it away, but a few unlucky idiots had still been caught in the smoke and were dropping here and there. I kicked the door in, then rushed into the corridor. My cybernetic eye did something that turned the world to monochrome but made it easier to see through the smoke. The mercs had moved to two rooms. An office and a washroom of all things. The washroom had one of those doors with a vent at the bottom. A kick and it bent in, so I fired a bolt into the hole and moved on just as they opened fire on the door. Moving fast, I rushed over to the office, rammed the door with Whisper¡¯s butt, then fired a bolt into the room while the guys within panicked. I kept moving, not wanting to stick around when they tried to shoot back. ¡°Gomorrah,¡± I said as I moved to the end of the corridor. There were some automated turrets here and there, but they were all conspicuously quiet. ¡°I think the floor¡¯s cleared.¡± *** Chapter Thirty - Blueprint for Success Chapter Thirty - Blueprint for Success ¡°With Samurai providing the blueprints, all sorts of technological advancements once thought impossible suddenly became possible. Though just because humanity, or at least some parts of it, knew how to build these things didn¡¯t mean that they could. Exotic materials, incredibly tight and precise machining requirements, and the need to build entire facilities just to build the parts to build the devices we wanted took some time to develop. A lot of the technology we have blueprints for we simply can¡¯t construct yet.¡± --Excerpt from ¡®Building the Future,¡¯ 2041 *** My idea of a ¡®cleared floor¡¯ did not, apparently, satisfy Gomorrah in the least. I wondered if she learned how to nag at nun-school while listening to her complain about how I hadn¡¯t even checked every room and corner before declaring the area safe. She poked her head into every room, looked at every nook and cranny, and casually melted the turrets that Myalis had deactivated. I left her to it and started dragging the mercs over to the lounge I¡¯d burst in from. I figured the me-sized hole in the window would help with ventilation. Their guns were tossed into the armoury, which had a door Myalis could lock on command. In the end, we had a dozen mercenaries, all stacked up in one room and with no gear that looked dangerous. Gomorrah paced for a bit, then pointed to one guy in particular. He had a bit of a five-o''clock shadow, and was wearing a rather sleek suit that was getting crumpled on account of him laying on the floor. ¡°That guy seems important. He was moved down here by the others, and I saw him giving orders.¡± ¡°So he¡¯s the boss,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe? Atyacus hasn¡¯t found much about him. His social media feed is pretty much empty. There¡¯s not much to find about him other than birth records and some medical things. Nothing interesting unless you want to know that he had a hernia a year back.¡± I snorted and bent down to pull the guy up. The bastard was heavy, even dragging him by his lapels onto the room¡¯s couch was a strain. Once he was sitting down I tapped his cheeks, but that didn¡¯t seem to work. ¡°Myalis, what do I need to wake this guy up?¡± The knock-out gas you used will wear off within another four to six hours. ¡°Oh, sure, I guess we¡¯ll just make ourselves comfortable then,¡± I said. The snark is unnecessary. ¡°I find it fun,¡± I defended myself. ¡°So, anything I need to wake this guy up within the next couple of minutes? We¡¯ve been fooling around a bit, but we are on something of a schedule.¡± Of course you do. There¡¯s a rather cheap product from your Class I Medical Utilities that can solve this. It¡¯s only one point. Overuse of it has some rather terrible consequences on one¡¯s health, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯s an actual concern here. ¡°Alright, gimme one.¡± New Purchase: Wake Up Points Reduced to: 7997 A box appeared on the sofa next to the comatose guy. On opening it I found a plastic device the size of an inhaler, with a soft pad on one end and a large button on the other. Stick over exposed skin, then depress the button. I tugged the guy¡¯s jacket sleeve up to expose his wrist and placed the device over it before pressing down. There was a bit of resistance to the press, like emptying a syringe. The man shook a bit, started to shiver, then woke up with a gasp. ¡°Hey there, buddy,¡± I said. ¡°Ah shit,¡± he said as soon as he locked eyes on me and Gomorrah. His gaze wandered to all the mercenaries on the floor around him, then to the hole in the wall. ¡°Do you have any idea what it means to make enemies of us?¡± he asked. ¡°Uh,¡± I replied. ¡°Not really. Didn¡¯t cross my mind. Do you have any idea what it means to kidnap a samurai kid? Because I have the impression that it¡¯s a whole order of magnitude worse.¡± He just kept glaring. ¡°We have often assisted samurai with missions both clandestine and not. If you think us unable to call in favours then--¡± He finally stopped when I grabbed his jaw in my cybernetic arm. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s start from the top. I¡¯m Stray Cat, that¡¯s Gomorrah. Do you have a name?¡± I let go. ¡°My name is no business of yours you--¡± then I grabbed him again. ¡°Alright, your name is now Potty Mouth,¡± I said. The look of indignity that crossed his face was great. It was a little strange to think that a trick that worked on the Kittens was working on a grown man, but I wasn¡¯t about to complain. The snort from Gomorrah was only further encouragement. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. I leaned in close. ¡°Look, Potty Mouth, we didn¡¯t just burst in and knock your friends out for fun. I¡¯ve been tracking our missing girl for nearly a day now, and my patience is starting to wear thin. We got this far. We know you¡¯re the ones who kidnapped her. So, you tell me where she is, and we leave. You¡¯ve got insurance for fixing the place up, right?¡± I let go of his face again. Potty Mouth worked his jaw, still glaring up at me. ¡°We can¡¯t tell you about our work with any client.¡± ¡°We can empty all of your bank accounts,¡± I replied. That got a twitch out of him. ¡°And I do mean all. Hell, I¡¯m pretty sure we could just bulk-sell all of your assets to the quickest bidder. And what we can¡¯t sell we can lock up. Is this your only base? I kinda doubt it. The others must have other things worth selling, right? And just how loyal are all the employees here? Will they stick around after they learn that payroll is now a pipedream? How long until one of them squeals for a few million?¡± Potty Mouth shifted on the sofa and his eyes wandered around as if he was looking for a way out. ¡°If we betray a customer¡¯s trust, we¡¯re done for as a business,¡± he said. ¡°If you piss me off and keep stalling, you¡¯re done for as a person,¡± I said. Gomorrah raised an arm and a gout of bluish flames burst out from her sleeve. ¡°They say that burning to death is one of the worst ways to go. But usually someone dies from asphyxiation long before they cook. My fire produces no fumes.¡± I stared at her. ¡°Damn, that¡¯s cold.¡± ¡°It¡¯s literally the opposite,¡± she said. ¡°Fine,¡± Potty Mouth said. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know everything that goes down, alright? I¡¯m just upper management, not the CEO. But, but I know who contracted us for the capture and confinement job.¡± ¡°Capture and confinement?¡± I repeated. ¡°Sounds like a euphemism for kidnapping,¡± Gomorrah said. I shook my head. ¡°Corporate slang. Nasty. So, who was it? And where¡¯s the girl now?¡± Potty Mouth squirmed. ¡°I don¡¯t know where she is. I can tell you where she was delivered, but that¡¯s it. But, but,¡± he said when Gomorrah lowered her arm to point it at him. ¡°But, they were a lot sloppier than we were. And you found us, so...¡± ¡°Right,¡± I agreed. ¡°And the who?¡± ¡°Sunrise Weapons,¡± Potty Mouth said. ¡°They make light-based weapons. Chemical lasers and electrical arc emplacements. Experimental stuff from blueprints bought off some Samurai.¡± ¡°And they wanted the girl, why?¡± I asked. He shook his head. ¡°We didn¡¯t ask. They wanted her intact. Any new samurai intact. Along with anyone near them. We took the dog because it was close and she seemed attached to it.¡± ¡°No shit,¡± I said. Standing taller, I reached to rub my eyes, remembered that I had a helmet on, then let my arm drop. ¡°Damn. Okay. You got the drop-off location?¡± ¡°More importantly, do you know which division of the company you worked for?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°They have a few installations that are on public record. I doubt they have cells in their accounting offices, but I¡¯d like to narrow it down some more.¡± Potty Mouth hummed. ¡°It was their R&D, I think. But not the main one. I think they got a second group just for this. Most people wouldn¡¯t agree to work on a samurai.¡± ¡°I wonder why?¡± I said, voice as flat as it could go. ¡°Myalis, you remember that big gun I bought the other day? The one that I never got to fire?¡± Are you talking about the decoy railgun? ¡°That¡¯s the one. I need a bomb from the same set. Something with decent motion sensors on it.¡± I think I understand. ¡°W-what are you doing?¡± Potty Mouth asked. I pat him on the head. ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± I said. New Purchase: Decoy Bomb Points Reduced to: 7995 The ¡®bomb¡¯ was an elaborate affair, with a steel case and a few canisters connected to a screen in the middle. A silvery ball sat atop it, spinning around and scanning the room with a red beam like one of those barcode scanners at a grocers. I placed it on the coffee table in the middle of the room. ¡°Right. You stay here, Potty Mouth,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll be activating this as soon as we¡¯re out of the room. Maybe don¡¯t move?¡± I gestured to the door with a thumb, and Gomorrah walked out ahead of me. ¡°I¡¯ve got your number,¡± I said before shutting the door. It didn¡¯t do much to stop his protests. A loud beep from the bomb shut him up though. ¡°Let¡¯s go see Sunrise about a girl,¡± I said. *** Chapter Thirty-One - Obsolete Worries Chapter Thirty-One - Obsolete Worries ¡°Never question a Samurai about what they might think are personal things. This means that you should avoid the following topics: -Religion -Abortion -Politics -Economics -Sexuality These are subjects that tend to spark debates with our clients, and that can worsen their mood and generally make them uncomfortable. In the very worst cases, they might decide that they ought to do something about a perceived issue. We at Welcome Inn International do not want to be held responsible for the destruction of any religious organizations or the toppling of local governments. Remember your three Cs: Courtesy, Care, Common Sense.¡± --Part of a training manual for Welcome Inn International staff, 2046 *** It felt a bit strange just walking out of the Hour Men headquarters. We just went up one floor and left out the main entrance. I even waved to the old lady at the nail salon on the way out. There was a squad of Police-Tech enforcers rushing over to the scene, but when they saw us they averted their eyes and rushed to cordon off the area without so much as trying to stop us. Gomorrah stretched her arms up until her back popped audibly. ¡°That was interesting,¡± she said. ¡°It was, I guess,¡± I said. I shifted a bit to get the grapple pack I was carrying to sit better over my shoulder. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure we¡¯d get anything out of it, but... yeah. A name and all that.¡± ¡°You were told to find the girl by someone, right?¡± Gomorrah asked. I nodded. ¡°Deus Ex. It was her job, but she dropped it on my head because she¡¯s a little shit.¡± ¡°In that case you should probably inform her of our progress so far. Make sure we¡¯re all on the same page.¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t I call her after we save the girl?¡± I asked. Gomorrah shook her head. ¡°No, this way if something goes wrong, you get to share the blame around a bit more. Haven¡¯t you ever had a job before?¡± I chuckled. ¡°No. At least, nothing more than doing odds-and-ends. That¡¯s a weird way of looking at things. They teach you that at the covent?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a lesson you learn from experience rather than from a book.¡± We left the building, took an elevator up a few floors, then continued on our way back to Gomorrah¡¯s car. The area had cleared up of people. Maybe they¡¯d gotten the warning about Samurai mucking about. I certainly would have pissed off if I knew there was a Samurai fight going down. At least, I would have before becoming one. ¡°You ever find it weird that you¡¯re a Samurai?¡± I asked. Gomorrah glanced my way for a bit. ¡°I don¡¯t know? I suppose it is a little strange, but I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve given it that much thought. I just am now.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m kinda rolling with it too. But then sometimes I¡¯ll forget and all those worries I had come back, you know?¡± ¡°Worries?¡± I reached up to scratch the side of my nose, then remembered my helmet. ¡°Yeah, you know. I have all these kids to take care of. I mean, they¡¯re not mine, but they¡¯re kinda my responsibility? And... I guess I was planning to kind of run away from all that, try to make a life for myself. Didn¡¯t have much going for me though.¡± ¡°Uneducated orphans aren¡¯t in high demand?¡± I snorted. ¡°Yeah, pretty much. I mean, there are some jobs available for anyone, but they don¡¯t pay all that well. I¡¯d be in debt over my head just trying to get an apartment or something. Could become a joytoy, but that¡¯s not something I¡¯d want to do.¡± Gomorrah shook her head. ¡°No, I think I understand. You had all those worries, and now they¡¯re moot.¡± ¡°Moot? Uh, yeah, I guess. I have... less than a hundred credits to my name. I couldn¡¯t buy a soda right now. But it¡¯s not a problem anymore. It¡¯s just--I don¡¯t know--weird. Same with the kittens. That¡¯s the brats Lucy and I watch over. They were on a fast track to getting fucked over, but now we just don¡¯t need to worry anymore? Lucy was talking about getting them to school. That¡¯s just so weird.¡± The nun patted me on the shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I think this is probably what people that won the lottery feel like.¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. To be entirely too pedantic, the likelihood of becoming a Samurai isn¡¯t as random-based as the likelihood of winning a lottery. There are characteristics and experiences that make some candidates more likely to become Samurai. I hummed. ¡°So you¡¯re saying I was chosen for my good looks?¡± No. Nor did your awful sense of humour factor into it much. ¡°You wound me,¡± I said. Of all the billions of items I have that you could purchase, none are able to fix your inability to be funny. Gomorrah giggled next to me, she even turned away when I shot her a glare. Was Myalis transmitting to her too? Not that I was actually angry, Myalis could be a bit of a pain, but she was kinda funny. ¡°You should try using some self-deprecating humour, Myalis,¡± I said. I would. But even doing so would still leave me leagues above your petty human-ness. ¡°Your AI has quite the attitude,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Atyacus isn¡¯t like that?¡± I asked. ¡°Not even remotely. He¡¯s quite polite.¡± I grinned. ¡°Wanna trade?¡± My shoulder mounted railgun deployed, then spun around and smacked me behind the head. ¡°Okay, okay, I get it! Sheesh!¡± I said between laughs. We arrived in the parking garage only to find that there were a lot more people here than before. That was fine. The problem was they were gathered around Gomorrah¡¯s car. One of them was on his back, with a buddy smacking his face and one of those plus-shaped wrenches in hand. It looked like they were trying to undo something on the Fury. ¡°Someone tried to jack your wheels,¡± I said. Gomorrah¡¯s fists tightened. I recognized some of the punks as we got closer. They were the same lot that we¡¯d run into on the way down, plus maybe half a dozen members. ¡°Yo!¡± I called out. ¡°Did you never watch one of those kids shows that teach you about not touching other people¡¯s shit?¡± I asked. We got quite a few glares. One of them, one that hadn¡¯t been there earlier, stepped up. He was a mountain of a man, covered in glowing tattoos and equipped with a pair of cybernetic arms that looked like they¡¯d been torn off a cargo-lift bot. ¡°You killed one of ours,¡± he grumbled. ¡°We can¡¯t let that kind of shit fly.¡± I reached over my shoulder and unslung Whisper. Without actually raising the weapon I turned off the safety with my augs and pulled the trigger. A bolt smacked into the ground, then bounced off the cement floor with a clatter. A few of the punks giggled. ¡°If you knock them out, I won¡¯t feel good burning them,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°You mean you wouldn¡¯t feel bad burning them otherwise?¡± She shrugged. ¡°If they put up a fight. They tried to steal Righteous Fury.¡± The big guy at the front grunted as he crashed to the floor. Some of his buddies went down quietly, but a few of them tried to run. They didn¡¯t make it far before whatever amount of knock-out gas was in them took them out. ¡°That¡¯s a bit much. It¡¯s just a car. A very nice car, but still.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think you understand the relationship a woman can have with a vehicle this gorgeous,¡± Gomorrah said. I shook my head and stepped over a few bodies on my way to the passenger side. ¡°You make it sound like you want to marry this thing.... Please tell me you don¡¯t actually get off to a car. I mean, there¡¯s kinky, then there¡¯s just weird. And you already have that pyromania fetish.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have a pyromania fetish. And I don¡¯t get off to my car. That¡¯s just weird.¡± ¡°Do the seats have a massage feature?¡± I asked as I ducked in. I tossed my gear to the back then looked at Gomorrah who was grabbing the wheel. ¡°I mean, technically.¡± ¡°Damn Gomorrah,¡± I said with a laugh. ¡°Are you that repressed?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not repressed,¡± she said a little too fast. ¡°Sure, sure. You get your lover moving, I¡¯ll call up Deus Ex.¡± ¡°Fury isn¡¯t my lover.¡± ¡°Fine, your mobile sex toy then.¡± ¡°It¡¯s unchristian-like to hate someone, but I might make an exception for you.¡± *** Chapter Thirty-Two - Basse Couture Chapter Thirty-Two - Basse Couture ¡°Car culture is strange. Samurai car culture takes that to a whole new level. They tend to be at least mildly competitive, which means that we occasionally get to observe two Samurai trying to one-up each other with increasingly wild rides. These cars don¡¯t tend to stay cars for very long, not when walking mecha, flying tanks, literal airships and space-capable craft are some of the easier ways to escalate.¡± --J. P. Kafka on the evolution of car culture, Jan 2038 *** I leaned back into the molded seat and tapped my fingers on the armrests as I thought. Fun and games aside, we were on a mission. We had to run over and save Katallina. It felt as if we were getting close. Deus Ex had dumped the mission on my lap that morning, and now we were nearing the afternoon. About noon now. What was Katallina thinking? Stuck, captured, and no doubt far from comfortable for well over a day now. I¡¯d be losing my mind in her place. The problem was, Samurai needed points to solve all their ills, and she couldn¡¯t have more than a few dozen from what I¡¯d seen. ¡°You¡¯re quiet,¡± Gomorrah said as she let go of the controls. ¡°We¡¯re cruising. I set us on a circular path until we figure out our next step.¡± ¡°Mmm,¡± I agreed. ¡°That¡¯s fine. I was just thinking. Myalis, can you gather up everything we¡¯ve learned so far in like, a packet or something? Send it to Deus Ex and Longbow. The nerds too.¡± ¡°Nerds?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Lag and Dial-Up,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re a pair of Samurai that basically live in the Mesh.¡± ¡°You know a lot of Samurai,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Just the five,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s more than I know,¡± she said. ¡°I guess I get around,¡± I replied with a grin. Gomorrah crossed her arms. ¡°Disgusting,¡± she muttered. Incoming call. One moment. The car¡¯s dashboard, already covered in displays and analogue switches and all sorts of buttons and screens, lit up as a hologram appeared standing above it. A foot-tall Deus-Ex wearing a frankly adorable pout as she sat on one of her huge floating guns. ¡°Stray Cat, I saw your package.¡± I stared. ¡°You going to rephrase that?¡± ¡°What?¡± the girl asked. ¡°No? I got the information packet your AI compiled. Just finished looking through it, in fact. Sunrise Weapons look like the likely culprit for the kidnapping. I set my AI to digging into them as soon as I got to that part and we¡¯ve found some interesting stuff about them.¡± ¡°I sent that like, a minute ago,¡± I said. She rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re still thinking at meat-speed. You¡¯ll catch up eventually.¡± A few screens flicked to life around her, most of them maps. ¡°Pin-pointed a few likely spots of their corp to place the girl, so I sent a few drones out to scan the buildings.¡± ¡°Um... why didn¡¯t you do that from the very start?¡± I asked. ¡°I only have so many drones, and their scanning process gives people cancer. Anyway, point is I found her here.¡± One of the maps grew bigger but I wasn¡¯t paying attention to that. ¡°Wait, back the fuck up. Did you just give cancer to a few hundred people? What the fuck?¡± ¡°A higher chance to develop cancer. Probably lower than just breathing the air outside,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°I don''t actually have anything that can directly give people cancer. That would be a useless weapon.¡± ¡°That¡¯s really fucked up, Little D, and I don¡¯t think it would be anything approaching a useless weapon.¡± ¡°I have quantum-tunneling plasma guns that could fry people a lightyear away. I don¡¯t need a cancer gun. And besides, those scans worked despite the shielding they have up.¡± ¡°Still fucky,¡± I said. ¡°I know some of them are dicks, but others don¡¯t deserve that kind of crap.¡± ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll pay into their life insurance or whatever,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°They¡¯re not important, the girl is.¡± ¡°You need therapy,¡± I said. ¡°But that can wait until after we¡¯ve saved the kid. And her dog. Do you have a plan or do we just barge in and take her back?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll send you the scans to look at them yourself,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°But looking at the place... I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll need much preparation. They¡¯re scientists. The only security in place isn¡¯t on the floor where the girl is kept, and those are rent-a-cops. The cheap kind. The moment they learn a Samurai is on the scene they¡¯ll clock out and leave.¡± Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Good security, that,¡± I said. The hologram shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m up north right now. About an hour¡¯s flight away if I take my time. I have a couple of things to finish up here. Try to get her out before then, and I can take care of things once she¡¯s safe.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t want to help?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s your mission after all.¡± ¡°Stray Cat, there are literally only a dozen people in place, and they¡¯re all normies. My drones could probably take care of them all with their cancer scanners and a few hours. But you¡¯re closer. Just make sure she¡¯s safe in the end. Collateral doesn¡¯t matter. See you in a few hours. Deus Ex out.¡± The hologram winked away. ¡°Friendly one,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Not too sure how pleased I am with her taking on god¡¯s name that way.¡± ¡°She¡¯s a right little brat,¡± I said. I didn¡¯t comment on her disregard for human life, but I was certainly thinking about it. ¡°I¡¯m not as... is the word bloodthirsty?¡± ¡°You mean the way she didn¡¯t seem to care about casualties? No. Bloodthirst would mean she wants more dead. I think she¡¯s just callous.¡± ¡°Right. She really does need therapy. Anyway, I say we fly on over there and I¡¯ll see about sneaking in. Can you keep close, just in case?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll park God¡¯s Righteous Fury near them. I can always just launch a few rockets at the building and drive in if I want.¡± ¡°Now who¡¯s bloodthirsty.¡± Gomorrah sniffed. ¡°I paid for the rocket launchers, I intend to use them.¡± I raised both hands in surrender. ¡°Fine, whatever. Just don¡¯t blow me up, alright.¡± The twin joysticks slid out from the dash before her and Gomorrah grabbed on. Soon, we were dropping out of traffic and shooting across the city. I was almost used to her insane driving. Almost. I winced as Gomorrah cut a corner so close that the side of the car clipped through a holographic ad hovering next to a building. ¡°Right, I need a distraction. Myalis, can you bring up the blueprints that Deus Ex got?¡± Certainly. I¡¯ve colour-coded it for ease of understanding. And I¡¯ve replaced all the big words with little ones. I chose to take the high-ground and not comment on any of that as I took in the map hovering before me. It wasn¡¯t an actual projection, just a display on my augs that moved as if I was looking at a fixed object. The base... lab... thing, was a small-ish complex set on a single level that took up the majority of a building¡¯s floor plan. It had a few office-like spaces near the entrance, then was divided into sections. One looked like a set of labs, the next had break rooms and washrooms as well as a few conference areas and smaller offices, and then a second lab area, this one less of an open-concept area and more a series of small rooms connected by a t-shaped corridor. Katallina was in one of those rooms, in one that was divided in half with a cell at one end and the entrance at the other. There were cameras here and there, but they had blindspots, and the only place with any sort of security was the main entrance. ¡°Yeah, that looks easy to break into,¡± I said. ¡°Not very secure. Could it be a trap?¡± It seems as though someone embezzled some of the funds originally intended to keep the complex secure. It has recently been used mostly to test a few non-lethal light-deterrent weapons. Nothing that would excite the competition too much. I think the main thing keeping the complex safe so far is the lack of interesting things to steal from it. ¡°That¡¯s one way to keep safe,¡± I muttered. ¡°But now they have a kid Samurai. What the hell are they planning?¡± According to the files of the project lead, they want to indoctrinate her, then use her to purchase low-tier weapons and blueprints only slightly above the company¡¯s current manufacturing capabilities. He wishes to make these inventions seem as if they¡¯re innovations from Sunrise Weapons R&D. ¡°That¡¯s... it?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s not a company-wide thing?¡± It seems as if few members of the upper echelons in the company are in on the plan. ¡°They¡¯re moronic,¡± I said. ¡°Wait, how do you know?¡± The complex¡¯s networks are connected to the internet. The lead researcher¡¯s password is his cat¡¯s birthday. ¡°You mean this entire thing was started by a bunch of fuckwits?¡± Was there any doubt? *** Chapter Thirty-Three - Stealth, But For Real This Time Chapter Thirty-Three - Stealth, But For Real This Time ¡°While it¡¯s true that every Samurai is very much unique, you can still observe some patterns in their collective behaviour. Notably, their spending habits tend to fall into two broad categories: Those who purchase new equipment frequently. And those who find a tried and true style, and keep to it until they need to adapt.¡± --Excerpt from ¡®On the Habits of Gods,¡¯ 2046 *** Gomorrah parked near ground level, right up against the side of a building and halfway into a traffic lane. Something in her car had all the trucks behind us funnel around to give us some room. ¡°So, you¡¯ll go up, and I¡¯ll see about clearing an escape route?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°That¡¯s the whole of it, yeah,¡± I said. I stepped out of God¡¯s Righteous Fury, then took off my coat. It had a few holes in it; annoying ones that I found way too obvious even when the rest of it was invisible. ¡°Can you stay here for a bit?¡± I asked. ¡°I can,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I flung my coat onto the passenger seat, then stretched a bit. ¡°Need new gear.¡± ¡°Do you have the points for it? Also, that jacket had better not be dirty,¡± she warned. ¡°It¡¯s probably not,¡± I said. ¡°And yeah, got... just shy of eight thousand to spend.¡± ¡°Christ.¡± I leaned down to look into the car. Gomorrah had a hand over the mouth of her mask. ¡°You stub your toe or something?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a lot of points. Why haven¡¯t you spent them yet?¡± ¡°Catherine,¡± Myalis said from the car¡¯s speakers. ¡°Is exceptionally frugal for a Vanguard. Foolishly so.¡± ¡°That AI would have me burning all of my points as soon as I get them,¡± I said. ¡°Money and points are for saving. You never know when you¡¯ll need them. Like right now.¡± Gomorrah leaned back. ¡°Well, hurry up. And please don¡¯t take off any more clothes than you already have.¡± ¡°No cameras on the outside of your ride?¡± I asked. ¡°There are plenty. I don¡¯t want to soil them with images of you undressed.¡± Gomorrah flicked a switch and the door next to me snapped shut with a hiss. I showed the side of her car my finger, knowing that she could see it in full 8K from where she sat. ¡°Rude,¡± I said. ¡°So, Myalis, I need gear.¡± I¡¯m always ready to accommodate. You¡¯re looking for stealth-specialized equipment? ¡°And a new jacket,¡± I said. ¡°I think I¡¯ll give that other one to Lucy? The bullet holes give it a certain look when it¡¯s not invisible.¡± Shall I inform Lucy that you want to see less of her? It took me a second to get it, but when I did I snorted. ¡°Good one. But nah.¡± I waved Gomorrah off and started for the entrance. ¡°I need a cool coat. That¡¯s like, Samurai 101. But before that, got anything like a disguise... thing?¡± How very precise. But yes, I do have many things like a disguise thing. ¡°Not my fault my language is so great.¡± Your language is a festering mess. It¡¯s a miracle I can even understand it. And I¡¯m smarter than most of your species combined. The pitiful nature of humanity aside, I have one suggestion in particular that I think would suit you well. It¡¯s a small module that is worn on a belt. It deploys micro-drones with projection units. They can overlay a full-colour, high-resolution image over a surface, including your body. ¡°So you can make me look like a potted plant?¡± I asked. You certainly have the intelligence of one already. You would fit right in. ¡°Walked into that,¡± I muttered as I moved over to the nearest entrance. The building¡¯s first floor was a dilapidated mess. Myalis unlocked the door without having to be asked and I stepped into an abandoned lobby. A glance at the graffiti covered elevator doors and I made my way over to the stairs. I¡¯d ride up once I was a few floors away from the ground and there were less suspicious elevators around. The projectors can render a fully-realized image atop your body. A projection of details that aren¡¯t real. Essentially, you can look like someone else, as long as that person is reasonably bigger than you are. My eyebrows rose. ¡°That¡¯s impressive,¡± I said. It won¡¯t work on many Antithesis models, so it is somewhat uncommon. Many cameras and scanning devices will see right through the hologram as well. ¡°Still,¡± I said. ¡°How much?¡± Fifty points. I nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± New Purchase: Hex-Projector Light Drone Camouflage System Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.Points Reduced to: 7945 I snapped the box that appeared out of the air and popped it open, revealing what was essentially a large metal device with the holes behind it to clasp onto a belt. It had three slits on each side. ¡°I¡¯ll need a belt,¡± I muttered. I figured as much, yes. You are also likely going to purchase a more stealthy weapon. Perhaps a holster for it? ¡°Aren¡¯t we going in the wrong order?¡± I asked. I paused at the next landing to catch my breath. I wasn¡¯t exactly out of shape, but maybe my diet could use a bit of improving. Also, my body could handle being shot less often. Which reminded me... ¡°And I need a cool jacket. Alright, I need a list.¡± A list of the things you need? How long ahead are you thinking? ¡°Just for this mission. I think I can sit down after and find a few things to buy,¡± I said. In that case, might I propose the following: I blinked as a bullet-point list appeared before me.

Handgun (currently have 1x holsters empty)
Coat. Possibly Stealth-Tech.
Ammunition (Trench Maker + Arm launcher)
Additional protection
Additional firepower

¡°That looks like a serial killer¡¯s shopping list,¡± I said. These are the few things I suspect I could convince you to purchase before you arrive at your destination. The next landing¡¯s the exit, by the way. I huffed up another flight of stairs, then pushed through the door there and into a little corridor that opened up to an interior plaza. This building was one of those fancy hollow ones, with patios on the inside. ¡°Let¡¯s start from the top then,¡± I said as I started towards an elevator. It was one of those big cage-y ones that you could lose an arm with by sticking it out through the bars. ¡°Why do you think I need a second handgun?¡± You have two arms and two slots in your holster. ¡°That¡¯s a great reason to have more guns,¡± I said. Wasn¡¯t exactly hard to convince me. ¡°I want something really cool.¡± How incredibly vague. ¡°And not cat-themed.¡± That significantly reduces my options. I chuckled. ¡°Come on, there has to be something else?¡± Very well. Perhaps as an alternative to your Trench Maker which can use nearly any sort of ammunition, a more specialized handgun? The Victorious Model Seven. It¡¯s a handgun that fires subsonic osmium rounds through a barrel that is essentially one large suppressor. ¡°So it fires a big heavy bullet but doesn¡¯t make much noise?¡± I asked. Any noise. Also, the gun only fires smart rounds. They have small ailerons that can turn and adjust the trajectory of the round mid-flight in order to curve towards your intended target. Perfect for someone whose aim is as creative as yours. Adjustable rate of fire. Cyclical, single-use twenty round magazines. The only issue is the gun¡¯s weight when fully loaded. Though that does help with its recoil. ¡°Sounds cool enough,¡± I said. ¡°How much?¡± Eighty points. That was getting a little expensive. Not crazy-expensive, but on the higher end of things. Then again, it wasn¡¯t even a hundreth of what I had. ¡°Sure, and enough magazines to fill my holster.¡± New Purchase: Victorious - Model Seven Points Reduced to: 7865 I paused and raised both hands just in time for a neat little box to fall into them. Popping the surprisingly hefty box open revealed a sleek handgun. All angular and sharp, with a rectangular barrel and angled grip. The top had a sort of tiny scope, glassy at one end and flat at the other. I held it out before me and a holo-graphic sight appeared above it. ¡°Nice,¡± I said. There wasn¡¯t much to shoot at though, so I stuffed it away into my shoulder holster after making sure the safety was on. I picked up the next two things to drop before me. Two rather heavy magazines that I handed to the little grabby arms of my holsters even as I walked out into a space with wall-to-wall vending machines and a few dozen street rats mingling around. They eyed me, I grinned back. They couldn¡¯t see it through the helmet, but I liked to imagine that some of the expression came through. ¡°I need a jacket,¡± I said. ¡°A badass one.¡± Another wonderfully precise description. ¡°You¡¯re usually pretty good,¡± I said. ¡°And no cat themes.¡± You¡¯re ruining my fun. ¡°Deal with it.¡± *** Chapter Thirty-Four - Thump Chapter Thirty-Four - Thump ¡°For a period of time, it was common practice to think of the human element as the weakest link in any security system. That changed when technology grew complex enough that no one could predict the exact loyalties of their own devices. As it turns out, humans might be a weak link, but they¡¯re one that is understandable and predictable.¡± --Anonymous during a virtual hacker conference, 2054 *** ¡°You know what I want?¡± I asked as I weaved through a line that cut across a corridor. It ended at one of those corporate soup kitchens. People filled out forms on some tablets at the end of the line, then got their vouchers for a free meal. I can only guess. ¡°Well, I need a new jacket for one,¡± I said. ¡°Something... like my last one, maybe? A bit cooler? Maybe semi-armoured? But yeah, I need that. But what I really want is a grenade launcher.¡± You want a grenade launcher. Somehow, that wasn¡¯t in the top percentile of things I expected to hear, but I suppose it makes sense. You are aware that you are essentially on a stealth mission? ¡°Do you expect this mission to not involve high explosives at some point?¡± I asked. That is a very fair point. I have a few questions to narrow down exactly what sort of launcher you need. How accurate do you want the weapon to be? What are your tolerances for size? Are there any particular things you want this weapon to do? I thought for a second. ¡°I want something that makes that cool thump sound. Maybe some rapid-ish fire? And something that¡¯s easy to reload?¡± I see. I think you may need to purchase a new catalogue for that. Might I suggest the rather generic Explosive Launchers class? The first tier costs seventy-five points. ¡°Alright, fine.¡± Class I Explosive Launchers Unlocked! Points reduced to... 7790 Now, as for an actual weapon. I suggest the Icarus Mark II. It¡¯s a one-hundred point grenade-launching rifle. Rather slim, with a titanium chassis. The magazine holds eighteen rounds, which can be fired in single shot, or in three-round bursts. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of grenades,¡± I said. They pack just as much punch as larger ones. I think you¡¯ll find the weapon enjoyable. It has a rather high skill-ceiling, but you¡¯ll learn. And there are special ammunitions that you can purchase that have multiple uses. More standard explosive rounds are significantly more expensive, of course, and you can use any kind of explosive from your Class one Esoteric Single-Use Explosive Devices catalogue. I paused for a moment and glanced at the wire-map of the area to make sure I was heading the right way. ¡°Does it look cool? No cat stuff on it?¡± ... Certain changes can be made to remove any such decorations. Snorting, I moved over to an elevator bank, then waited for one to come down. ¡°Sure then.¡± New Purchase: Icarus Grenade Launcher Platform Points reduced to... 7690 A box appeared by my feet, startling a beggar lounging against a nearby wall. I opened it to find the Icarus within. It was about two feet long, with a bullpup sort of configuration and a very boxy frame. The top had a rather tall but narrow scope, and there was a grip under the squarish front. It looked a little stubby for a rifle. Picking it up, I found it rather rear-heavy. It made sense when I pulled at the magazine tucked into the top of the stock, then shoved it back in. The gun connects to your augs, but it also listens to your voice. Saying one of the following will change the way the ammunition acts: High Explosive. Knockout Gas. Flashbang. EMP or Fragmentation. I pulled the gun up, then found the strap on its side and looped it over my shoulder. ¡°Nice,¡± I said just as the elevator dinged. ¡°Now, I need a cool coat, and some sort of additional protection stuff.¡± I see. Perhaps something that meets both goals. The Mark III Neo is a long coat that has a system of projectors built into it. It can mimic light sources, like your previous coat, and this one can also displace carbon wafers into the path of any oncoming projectile. ¡°Carbon wafers?¡± I asked. The physics required to explain how to use quantum tunnelling to displace an object from one location to another, then lock that object in space would require an order of magnitude more education than what you have. ¡°As long as it looks cool,¡± I said. ¡°And will stop me from getting dead.¡± New Purchase: Mark III Neo If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.Points reduced to... 7540 Another box by my feet. I idly wondered if anyone would use the darned things I kept leaving around all over. When I popped it open it revealed a long trench-coat, folded neatly into the box. I pulled it out, admiring the cool shoulder pads and the split back. The material was super dark, some sort of light-absorbing cloth I guessed, and the armoured plates here and there really looked great. What didn¡¯t was the cat-head-shaped pauldrons, and the big image of a grinning cheshire cat on the back under the stenciled words ¡®Stray Cat.¡¯ ¡°Seriously?¡± I asked. You didn¡¯t say not to. I sighed. ¡°Myalis, you bitch.¡± I still slipped the jacket on. It might have been a bit cat-like, but the damned thing was cool. I tugged the lapels forward and felt it settling over my shoulders just right. A glance into the chromed elevator doors had me looking my reflection up and down. ¡°Cat pauldrons are still a bit much,¡± I said. ¡°But the rest looks nice enough, I guess. Extra preem drip. Very much on fleek¡± ... That was painful to process. They¡¯re thematic. Think of it as being on-brand. And judging by the parts of your brain that just lit up, you have no reason to call it unflattering. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. ¡°Just don¡¯t go too far.¡± I would never. She totally would. The door opened and I stepped out into a rather plain corridor. Clean floors, plaques on the walls pointing towards different businesses, and all the hallmarks of being a safehouse for mid-ranking corporate stuff. I never liked places like these. They were way too... I supposed the word was orderly. I didn¡¯t feel like I belonged here, not with the near-rags I usually wore, and not now in my Samurai gear. It had the same feeling as walking into a church while all those around you were in their Sunday best. I didn¡¯t belong in the corporate cult culture. ¡°At the end of the next corridor, right?¡± I asked as I took off to my left. The new coat swished quite satisfyingly as I walked. Indeed. Now would be a good time to test your new cloaking device. I agreed. With a twitch of my eye, I brought up the menu for all of my gear with my augs and looked at the new icon for my cloak. It was just a floating image of the belt-buckle-like device. The menu that brought up was a long list of options. It was like looking at an extended list of halloween costumes. ¡°Ah,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of choices.¡± I have access to their network. Do you want me to create a cover for you that should get you past their security? ¡°Sounds perfect,¡± I said as I flicked out of the menu. Too much choice was too much. The entrance to Sunshine Weapon¡¯s R&D lab was a plain lobby. A pair of sliding doors that led to a security checkpoint, then a corridor deeper into the labs. Just as I rounded the corner, I noticed my everything shifting and when I looked down, it was to see that I was wearing something different. Clothes on top of my clothes. It looked like I was in a plain overall, with a logo-covered jacket atop it, and the gun bouncing by my side now looked like a case. I stepped into the first room, then had to wait a moment until one of the guards by the front desk waved me in. You already have an appointment here, and I¡¯ve cracked their security. Just act natural and you should be fine. Moving up to the security desk, I faced the sleepy looking guy behind it and waved. ¡°Hey there,¡± I said, trying to sound friendly but professional. Just an eager young technician or whatever. ¡°You¡¯re from...¡± he paused and looked at his screen. ¡°SuperCat, Animal Care and Grooming Co.?¡± I flinched. ¡°Y-yup,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s with the helmet?¡± I glanced to the side. On the cameras behind the guy¡¯s desk was an image of me wearing a plain white helmet, still with the cat-ears. ¡°It¡¯s for, uh, protection. While handling animals.¡± ¡°Really?¡± he asked. ¡°Yeah, really. Corporate protocol, you know?¡± I was going to drown Myalis, the fact she was in my head be damned. ¡°Hmm, yeah. Wanna pass through the scanner? Put your bag on the side there.¡± He pointed to an x-ray machine, with a walk-through scanner next to it. I put my gun on the black threads, then stepped through the scanner. The x-ray that I saw on his screen looked nothing like a high-tech grenade launcher, and a lot more like a bag full of stuff. ¡°Right, you can go.¡± I made it halfway down the corridor before I huffed. ¡°I hate you.¡± I sent the recording to Lucy already. ¡°I really hate you.¡± *** Chapter Thirty-Five - Dog Gone Wrong Chapter Thirty-Five - Dog Gone Wrong ¡°At some point, the last of the Boomers finally passed away, and the traditions of the workspace largely faded with their passing. This ushered in a new era of business-philosophy, where the styles of the late 1900s were largely discarded. In some ways, this was an improvement. Management was generally more aware of issues with the environment, with the mental health of their employees, and of the kind of issues that could be caused by social movements. Their answers were to hide any environmental impacts, to pre-emptively fire any stressed employees, and to quash any social movements before they took off.¡± --Business Outsider, 2047 *** My entire life, I¡¯d walked into places where I really shouldn¡¯t have been. Usually in parts of the city that weren¡¯t welcoming to a one-armed girl whose only weapon was a sharp tongue. More recently, as a Samurai, I¡¯d been a bit more liberal with my travelling. Running around as if it didn¡¯t matter that I wasn¡¯t allowed to be where I was. It was a bit weird, but, in those moments, I was still myself. Now I felt off. I was essentially in a costume, marching down the corridors of a complex and getting a bit lost while crossing by scientists and technicians who never gave me more than a second glance. If they noticed that I felt uncomfortable, they didn¡¯t comment on it at all. My eyes twitched as I brought up a map of the facility. It wasn¡¯t big enough to really get lost in, but there were more doors sealing off the different sections than I¡¯d expected. Not that they impeded me much. The doors had electronic locks so laughably cheap that I probably could have broken through with a crowbar. Having Myalis break into them was just overkill. I reached the back of the facility in a little while. There were fewer people here, and those that I saw were often sitting in little labs, or typing away in front of computers. For all the labcoats I saw, there didn¡¯t seem to be that much science-y stuff going on. I was expecting a whole lot more bubbling solutions and bunsen burners, but maybe I shouldn¡¯t have been setting my standards based on pirated cartoons. There were a lot more workshop-looking places, so for all I knew the place was doing more engineering-ish science than... other sorts of science. ¡°God damn it,¡± I muttered. Is something wrong? ¡°Lucy was right.¡± She is rather clever, so that isn¡¯t too surprising. What was she right about this time? ¡°My education¡¯s kinda shit,¡± I said. That is correct, yes. Are you considering going to school? ¡°Urgh,¡± I said. I stepped to the side and moved over towards a janitor¡¯s closet as a trio of guys moved by. Two of them were in suits, the last in a lab-coat. They barely looked at me as I opened the door to the closet and looked inside, trying to look busy. They were heading in the same direction I¡¯d been moving in, which was a bit annoying. ¡°Yeah, she might be right, but I don¡¯t know about that,¡± I said. If they heard me, they¡¯d probably assume I was on the line with someone, which wasn¡¯t technically wrong. Perhaps a non-traditional education then? The human propensity to teach people in groups is efficient on a large scale, but given the opportunity, being taught directly is far more effective for a given individual. ¡°So, like, online classes?¡± I asked. Those were pretty popular. We¡¯d taken some at the orphanage whenever a new pandemic sprung up. With the right additional augmentations, and perhaps some liberal use of certain drugs, you could cram in a few years worth of education into a few days. There are catalogues that allow you to essentially download vast amounts of information into your memory. ¡°That sounds fucking awful,¡± I said. Or you could enroll into a local school? I¡¯m certain some of the better private schools would love to have a Vanguard in attendance. You might not even have to wear their uniform. ¡°And that sounds an order of magnitude worse. Right, I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I said. The three guys had moved on and around the bend, so I moved out of the janitor¡¯s closet and set off towards the end of the corridor. My goal was just to the left, which unfortunately is where I found the scientist and his two business buddies. I skipped back around the corner and twitched my ears to listen to them. All three were right before the door holding Katallina. ¡°The subject has been somewhat cooperative,¡± the scientist was saying. ¡°But it could be better.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t care about cooperation, we care about results.¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Hey now,¡± business dude #2 said. ¡°Results are the end goal, but if we can get them without risking the girl, or better yet, while getting her to want to work with us, then that would be for the best, right?¡± ¡°What, you¡¯re planning on giving her sick days, maybe a 401K?¡± Jerkwad asked. The scientist cleared his throat. ¡°Whatever the case, the subject hasn¡¯t actually produced anything yet. So far we¡¯ve been trying the nice approach under the assumption that other enhanced forms of encouragement can¡¯t be undone.¡± ¡°Enhanced forms of encouragement?¡± I repeated in a whisper. I suspect that it¡¯s a euphemism for torture. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°Well, that makes this a whole lot more justified.¡± I spun around the corner and brought my brand new grenade launcher, the Icarus, up to my shoulder. The stock was actually quite comfortable. A menu appeared in the corner of my vision with the different options for explosives laid out in an easy-to-use wheel menu. I selected ¡®Fragmentation¡¯ because I figured HE might accidentally blow up the girl in the next room over. ¡°Hey, do you have permission to be here?¡± Business dude no. 2 asked. I raised my off hand in a wait-one-moment gesture. Would the fragmentation go through the wall? I wasn¡¯t entirely sure. ¡°Hey!¡± he repeated. ¡°Shut up, I¡¯m deciding how to shoot you,¡± I said as I flicked through the menu a bit more. Jerkwad turned to the scientist sort, then pointed a finger right at me. ¡°Who¡¯s this? Is she one of yours?¡± ¡°No sir, she, uh, might be a contractor?¡± the scientist asked. He really didn¡¯t sound certain. I flicked the menu over to the knock-out gas option. Worse case with that I¡¯d put the girl and her dog to sleep. No biggie. ¡°Are you an idiot?¡± Jerkwad asked. ¡°You can¡¯t just let anyone in here.¡± I rolled my eyes, then brought the gun up. It made a handy little red line appear in my vision, arcing where the grenade would go. So I made it overlap with Jerkwad¡¯s head. A squeeze, and the Icarus shook three times as a trio of grenades thumped out of it. The first smacked Jerkwad in the side of the head and sent him tumbling down with a scream. I snorted as the hall filled with the hissing of pressurized gas. ¡°Sleep tight, assholes,¡± I said as I lowered the launcher and started forward. They looked like they wanted to protest, but were too busy stumbling around drunkenly to do anything of the sort. By the time I reached the door they¡¯d been standing before they were on the ground, drooling and insensate. ¡°Can you break into their augs?¡± I asked Myalis. ¡°Kinda curious to know who these idiots are.¡± Easily done. Anything you want to know in particular? I thought about it. ¡°No, not really. Just empty their bank accounts.¡± Into your own? ¡°That makes me sound greedy. Split it into thirds? A chunk for me, one for Gomorrah, and the rest to the girl.¡± I poked the door. It was a heavy metal thing, more fit for a prison than a room. The electronic lock next to it flashed green the moment I glanced at it. Myalis¡¯ work, I guessed as I pulled it open. Just like Deus Ex¡¯ scans showed, it wasn¡¯t a very large space. Half the room had a few cupboards and some chairs. The other half had a cot and a little toilette behind a thick plastic wall. A girl was on the cot, her head rising as she looked over at me. She glared. I stepped in and closed the door. ¡°How¡¯s the gas in here?¡± I asked. I suspect the air on her side is filtered, otherwise she would be knocked out already. ¡°That¡¯s annoying,¡± I said. ¡°How long will we have to wait?¡± The gas is meant to stay around an area for some time. It¡¯s more effective that way. I should note that, while I¡¯ve shut off the facility¡¯s security, there''s a chance someone will notice the bodies. I nodded along. ¡°Hey, kid, can you hear me?¡± I asked. She glared harder, which was a yes in my book. A dog¡¯s head rose up from the blankets next to her. They hadn¡¯t killed the mutt. That was nice. ¡°Right,¡± I said. A flick through my augs and my disguise flicked off. ¡°My name¡¯s Stray Cat. I¡¯m a friend. You ready to blow this joint?¡± She¡¯s not a Vanguard. I froze for just a second. ¡°You sure? Wait, yeah, of course you are. Then....¡± I moved closer to the glass door. No matter what, I¡¯d still save the girl. ¡°Hey, kid, you were near another samurai during that incursion, right?¡± She swallowed, then got up. Her outfit had been replaced by some scrubs at some point, all off-green and tacky looking as hell. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± ¡°Oh, great, another kid with an attitude,¡± I muttered. ¡°This day¡¯s just perfect.¡± *** Chapter Thirty-Six - Catkiller Chapter Thirty-Six - Catkiller ¡°Our weakness? You want me to just tell you what Samurai are weak against? Well, I suppose... awkwardness?¡± --Guillotine, interview with Star-Spangled Monthly, 2029 *** There were all sorts of things I could have handled. Katallina being angry at me. Her throwing a tantrum. Having her curse me out. All reactions I¡¯d seen from my kittens plenty of times. They were outlets to anger and sadness that I got. I could deal with snark, it was how I did emotions. Katallina looked at me, then her eyes got wet and she started to cry. I didn¡¯t do crying. Lucy did crying. If a kitten cried, it was Lucy that did the hugging and the shushing and all that junk. ¡°Ah, fuck,¡± I said. ¡°Uh, shit, it¡¯s okay, kid?¡± I tried. Somehow that didn¡¯t work. I looked around, but other than her dog, there wasn¡¯t much to see. ¡°Shit, uh, look, you¡¯re safe, alright?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m gonna slip you, and your dog I guess, a mask, and we can both leave this place, okay?¡± She bawled harder. Interesting. ¡°What?¡± I asked. I started looking for catalogues that could improve maternal instincts or help people in emotional distress, but other than some drug cocktails I can¡¯t find anything very relevant. It¡¯s an oversight I don¡¯t think we were expecting. A complaint has been filed. ¡°That¡¯s nice,¡± I deadpanned. I reached up to run my hands through my hair, bumped my helmet, then groaned. ¡°Okay, okay. Hey, kid, you hear me?¡± The girl nodded. She was ugly crying, and she was just old enough that it wasn¡¯t even passably cute. ¡°Okay, look, I¡¯ve got some questions, alright?¡± I asked. Katallina snorted some and I sighed as I backed up. ¡°Myalis, can you connect me to Gomorrah?¡± Certainly. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. Something ¡®pinged¡¯ and I sighed again because I was in that sort of mood. ¡°Yo, G-girl,¡± I said. ¡°I recall telling you not to call me that. Or some variation thereof,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Yup. I recall not recalling that. So, uh, found the girl, and the dog. Neither are Vanguards. I... wait, Myalis, is the dog?¡± No. The dog is not a Vanguard. Gomorrah hummed. ¡°Interesting. So, where is our wayward Samurai?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a question, isn¡¯t it?¡± I muttered. I tapped on the glass of the chamber. ¡°Hey, kid, uh... shit, I don¡¯t know where to start. Look, we¡¯re looking for someone, a Samurai. The one that gave you that gun you had. Do you know where they are?¡± ¡°He¡¯s dead,¡± Katallina said. ¡°The monsters ate him.¡± ¡°Uh,¡± I said. ¡°Do you know who he was? His name?¡± She nodded. ¡°Randall, he was from 2B.¡± I blanked, but Gomorrah was on the ball apparently. ¡°Randall from 2B. That¡¯s an older teenaged boy from the same floor where Katallina lived. Male, sixteen. Good clean record. Babysits others on occasion from his social feeds... and the cleanup crews for that building have tagged his body already.¡± I rubbed at the nape of my neck, then stood up and stretched. ¡°Whelp, that¡¯s fucked,¡± I said. ¡°Can you tell Deus Ex?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t want to tell her yourself?¡± ¡°Not particularly. Make some space in your car for a girl and a dog, would you?¡± Gomorrah was quiet for a little while. ¡°You want to put a dog in my car?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not leaving the kid here,¡± I said. ¡°She¡¯s in a fucking cage.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine. But the dog?¡± I started pacing. ¡°Gomorrah, you can¡¯t just abandon a dog. Even I know that.¡± Gomorrah groaned, a very un-nunlike sound. ¡°God give me patience. Fine. I¡¯m going to contact Deus-Ex. Ping me when you¡¯re done, and I¡¯ll blow off a wall to pick you up.¡± ¡°We could leave from the front,¡± I said. ¡°Look, this whole thing has been a little disappointing to me, and I have missiles primed to fire already. Don¡¯t take my fun away from me.¡± I surrendered to the crazy pyromaniac nun with the missile launchers on account of her being crazy and a pyromaniac and having missile launchers. ¡°See you in a bit then.¡± I said. Once the line cut off, I moved closer to the glass wall of Katallina''s cell. I didn¡¯t want to speak my next question out loud, so I opened a text box with a twitch of my eye and typed it out. Myalis, her parents? All dead. I found their insurance and have filed a claim on it in her name, to be transferred to an account she can access. The insurance company didn¡¯t want to pay out, but I persuaded them otherwise. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°That¡¯s nice of you... how did you persuade them?¡± Footage of you at the Hour Men base. For the record, no, she doesn¡¯t have any extended family capable of taking care of her. If it worked it worked, I supposed. ¡°Hey, Katallina,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m going to get you out of here, okay?¡± The girl snorted. ¡°Who even are you?¡± ¡°Uh, I¡¯m a samurai,¡± I said. ¡°Samurai are supposed to be cool.¡± Nevermind being shot twice, my worst injury of the day had just landed with critical damage. ¡°First, good insult there, but wrong target. Second, you¡¯re like, in your teens, stop acting so young.¡± She straightened a little. ¡°I lost everything,¡± she said. ¡°That happens sometimes. Now, you can stay in the cage with the creepy scientist dudes until they figure out that you¡¯re not a samurai, or you can come with me. I... basically run an orphanage at this point.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to go to an orphanage,¡± she said. She sniffed a last time and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her beige shirt. ¡°I can take care of myself.¡± ¡°Very cute, but no, you really can¡¯t. City¡¯s got to be full of refugees right now. You¡¯d be swallowed up on the streets in no time. At least come with me for the day, we can figure things out tomorrow.¡± ¡°What about the assholes that kidnapped me?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a share of their money once I¡¯m done bankrupting them,¡± I said. That perked her up. I had the terrible impression that she might just fit in with all of the kittens. I shuffled over to the glass and tapped it, expecting a screen to show up somewhere. ¡°The door¡¯s wireless,¡± Katallina said. ¡°Right,¡± I agreed. ¡°Myalis, two masks, one for the kid, one for the dog. Can you make them appear on the other side of the glass?¡± I can. ¡°Are you talking to yourself?¡± Katallina asked. She looked concerned. New Purchase: Hazard Mask Points reduced to... 7520 New Purchase: Hazard Mask - Canid Modified Points reduced to... 7510 Two boxes plopped onto the ground of the cell, and Katallina jumped. ¡°You actually are a samurai,¡± she said. ¡°What did you think?¡± ¡°Shitty cosplayer.¡± ¡°God save me from little shits with attitude,¡± I muttered. ¡°Put on the fucking masks.¡± Do you have any idea of how ironic it is that you want saving from children with attitudes? ¡°You calling me a child?¡± I asked. That would be insulting children everywhere. I scoffed, but couldn¡¯t hold back a chuckle. ¡°You ready?¡± I asked. Katallina was strapping a mask over her dog¡¯s snout. It seemed very okay with the bulbous mask. Its tail was wagging, anyway, which I figured meant it was alright. My experience with actual dogs was pretty limited. I¡¯d pet one or two when I ran across them, but for the most part I spent more time seeing dogs in my media feed than interacting with them. They were something of a luxury, needing space, and food, and grooming. The sort of person that had time for that wasn¡¯t the sort of person living in the same space as the orphanage. ¡°What¡¯s its name?¡± I asked. ¡°The dog?¡± Katallina asked. ¡°He belonged to Miss Rupert next door. She was nice, let us play with him and take him out for walks. She died. His name is Catkiller.¡± I groaned. My life was a joke. Myalis got the door opened, and judging by how neither the girl nor the dog fainted, the masks worked well enough to protect from the knock-out gas. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said as I brought my gun up. A glance at my map of the building showed me where Gomorrah would be coming from. It also revealed that the red dots of security personnel were moving a lot more than before. ¡°What¡¯s up with the security?¡± I asked. I can¡¯t see what alerted them. One moment... ah. It seems that one of them spoke to another and neither recalled your appointment. I¡¯m afraid that I don¡¯t have the tools to rewrite memories. ¡°You have a gift for being terrifying,¡± I said. ¡°Who are you talking to?¡± Katallina asked. ¡°The alien voices in my head,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s get the fuck out of here.¡± ¡°There¡¯re guards.¡± I blinked, then raised my grenade launcher while my shoulder-mounted guns deployed over my back. ¡°Oh,¡± she said. ¡°Come on, if you behave you¡¯ll maybe get to see an asshole blow up.¡± On leaving the room, Katallina took a moment to punt the scientist sprawled in the floor right in the face. She¡¯d fit right in with the kittens. *** Chapter Thirty-Seven - Cash Money Chapter Thirty-Seven - Cash Money ¡°Been doing some morally ambiguous shit? Afraid people will catch on to how skeevy you are? Using child labour? Selling people? Using indentured servitude on your employees? Selling weapons to the wrong sort of people? If you think that your business might get fucked over by the first uptight samurai that passes by, then consider getting AoG Insurance! We¡¯ll cover your dumb ass, no matter what. But skip a payment and we¡¯ll fuck you up.¡± --Acts of God Insurance Corp. ad, 2050 *** I had time to think as Katallina, the dog whose-name-I-would-change, and I moved through the R&D lab¡¯s corridors. Sure, there was security coming for us, but I had a lot of knock-out gas grenades and access to the cameras so I knew where they were coming from before they turned around the corner. That meant walking over a lot of sleeping idiots on our way out. It felt a little cheat-y, but I was fine with that. Cheating was alright in my books, as long as it wasn¡¯t done against me. Besides, I was busy thinking, and Myalis-jokes aside, I did like a bit of quiet to think in. Our mission was essentially over. Not in the ideal way either. It left me with a girl (and a dog) to take care of. I didn¡¯t think that someone like Deus Ex would particularly care for Katallina now that it was revealed that the girl was just a normal girl. She was an orphan too. Which I¡¯d saved. By some weird twisted logic, that kind of made her my problem. Because I didn¡¯t have enough problems--or orphans--to look after. Lucy was going to be so much fun to deal with. I sighed and absently fired another burst of grenades through a glass door. The idiot hiding behind it panicked, throwing a jacket over the canisters spewing gas into the room, but not quick enough to stop himself from face-planting a moment later. There were other things. Money problems. Problems of reputation and such. How would this company react to us blowing up their lab? ¡°Fuck it,¡± I muttered. Is something wrong? The hormone balance in your brain suggests that you¡¯re in something of a foul mood. I took a deep breath. ¡°Nah, I¡¯m fine,¡± I said. ¡°Huh?¡± Katallina asked. She looked a bit lost in thought too. ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± I said. ¡°Just talking to someone else.¡± Is there anything we can buy to help you? I barked a laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t know. What do you think Sunshine¡¯s reaction will be to us, uh, doing this?¡± Likely denounce everything, cut ties with whomever plotted this, then funnel resources into shell corporations before going bankrupt in order to not have to save face. For many smaller human corporations, it only takes a few days for them to essentially cease existing, then return as an entity with the same employees and a different logo. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. ¡°Shit¡¯s really not fair, is it?¡± Not usually. I stretched a bit. I was developing something of a stress headache. I was way too young for that kind of stuff though. ¡°Who¡¯ll profit from all of this? I mean, in the end, who¡¯s responsible?¡± The chain of legal responsibility would stop at the person carrying out the kidnapping on the behalf of the company. The moral responsibility is a little more loose to define. I suppose that in the end, those who run the company are those responsible. ¡°So the CEO?¡± That is merely a well-paid employee, not the end of the line. I rubbed at my neck through the material of my suit. ¡°Do you know who the big shareholders are?¡± I asked. I do. ¡°Do you know if they knew about... this?¡± They seemed aware. At least, those who own considerable shares. Those with only a fractional share didn¡¯t seem to have been informed. Most of Sunshine Weapons was owned by Switzer Corp. I nodded. ¡°Right, in that case. Those that knew, empty their accounts. Split half of it with the company¡¯s employees. We¡¯re keeping the other half. Liquidate the rest, I guess. How much is that?¡± Seventy-three million credits. Before dividing it in half. I wasn¡¯t able to reach some accounts in such a short time, I¡¯m afraid. I tripped. ¡°Uh, you okay?¡± Katallina said. ¡°Fucking fuck,¡± I replied sensibly. That¡¯s thirty-six and a half million for you. I¡¯m rounding it down to big numbers, of course. I don¡¯t want you to have an even worse headache. I absently fired off more grenades down a corridor, then stopped around the corner from the wall Gomorrah was planning on blowing up. If it helps, you¡¯re not even in the top half of the wealthiest Vanguard. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°That doesn¡¯t help,¡± I said. That kind of money.... A burger was 500 credits. That meant that. ¡°How much is thirty-six and a half million divided by five hundred?¡± I asked. ¡°Seventy... three thousand,¡± Katallina said. I blinked at her. ¡°What?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot.¡± That was a lot of burgers. No wonder Deus Ex was just casually able to rent a penthouse. The girl had been a samurai for a while. She was probably loaded. The amount I had was just too damned much for me to wrap my head around. ¡°What am I going to do with that kind of money?¡± I muttered. It¡¯s about the amount someone in the top five percent would earn in a year¡¯s time. While significant, it isn¡¯t a grand amount. Also, anything you could purchase with human currency could be purchased with your remaining points, but at a much lower price and greater quality. ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered. ¡°I guess I can continue renting that hotel room for a bit.¡± Only a few years. But yes. That would be an appropriate use for that money. A few years? How much was the damned room going for? I decided that I didn¡¯t want to know. ¡°Hey, uh, Stray Cat?¡± ¡°Just Cat,¡± I said. Katallina nodded, then pointed to the side. ¡°Can I bring that with me? It was Randall¡¯s.¡± I followed her pointing finger and looked into a lab, one with a window all along its wall. Inside were some benches and a large steel tank at one end with a gun pointing into it. The same gun she had in the videos I¡¯d seen. Giving a gun to a kid was a terrible idea. But then, I wasn¡¯t keen on ideas that weren¡¯t terrible. ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I said. I kicked the door to the lab open. It was just a small detour. While I fiddled with the clamps holding the gun in place, a text popped up from Gomorrah, asking me if I was quite ready. I sent her a thumbs-up emoji. Her response was an explosion that made the floor skip out from under me. The dog barked, Katallina screamed, and I felt a bit guilty for not warning her. I pushed the rifle into her hands. ¡°Come on, our ride¡¯s here,¡± I said. Gomorrah had parked in the middle of the corridor. Or at least, she was hovering there, the dust and loose debris of the hole torn into the side of the building wafting past us as the air pressure from the bottom of her Fury pushed them by. A couple of confused scientist sorts ran past. They didn¡¯t seem to know what the hell was going on, but had the common sense to be somewhere that wasn¡¯t near the sleek black samurai car that had made itself at home in their lab. ¡°Whoa,¡± Katallina said. ¡°That¡¯s a nice car.¡± ¡°It¡¯s kinda hot, yeah,¡± I said as I moved to the passenger side. The door opened, then the panel right behind it folded out and slid back, revealing two very small seats at the back where my Whisper was resting. ¡°If that dog ruins my seats I will be giving you a religious epiphany,¡± Gomorrah greeted. I helped Katallina up into the back, then let the dog jump up where he snuggled up next to the girl. The doors closed up as soon as I fell into the passenger seat and rearranged my coat for comfort. The sound-proofing was good enough that as soon as everything sealed up I couldn¡¯t hear the rumble of the wind under us. ¡°So, where to now?¡± I asked. Gomorrah turned my way. ¡°I thought you knew?¡± I reached up and pulled off my helmet, placed it on my lap, then ran mechanical hands through my hair. ¡°Yeah, no, I really don¡¯t. Did you contact Deus Ex?¡± ¡°I sent her what you learned.¡± I appreciated her circling around the topic. Didn¡¯t need to set Katallina off again. ¡°Right. So... man, I need a break. The last day has been way too damned busy.¡± ¡°Burn out happens,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Not often with Samurai, but it¡¯s not impossible.¡± She reversed us out of the hole in the side of the building, then we shot off and towards the flowing traffic above. She moved past a couple of cop cars, but Gomorrah didn¡¯t seem to care about them and they left us alone. ¡°Yeah. Think you could bring us to the hotel?¡± ¡°I suppose,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°It¡¯s a bit of an anti-climatic end to everything.¡± ¡°Meh. You could come up with me? Meet Lucy, the kittens.¡± ¡°The kittens... those are the orphans you take care of?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Yeah. They¡¯re pretty cool. Sometimes. Some of them.¡± My eyes narrowed. ¡°They mostly behave.¡± ¡°I suppose I don¡¯t really have much to do,¡± Gomorrah said. I leaned back into my seat. ¡°What do you do for fun?¡± I asked. ¡°I used to have chores at the church, but they¡¯ve been... honestly, they¡¯ve been babying me recently. I swear if one more person starts calling me a saint I¡¯m going to bring them closer to god the fast way.¡± I laughed. ¡°Well, you won¡¯t have to worry about that with the kittens.¡± *** Chapter Thirty-Eight - Kittens! Chapter Thirty-Eight - Kittens! ¡°The NA Ministry of Child Protection prides itself in providing only the very best care to the children in its charge.¡± --Statement from the NA Ministry of Child Protection, 2031 *** Gomorrah did a fine job landing right next to the sidewalk leading into the hotel and shutting her car down as if she had no intention of moving from that spot. I didn¡¯t mind. It meant less walking. I¡¯d been doing some thinking on the last bit of the trip back. ¡°Hey, Gomorrah,¡± I asked. ¡°Yes?¡± she asked. ¡°Can you give me and the kid a minute?¡± I nodded to the back of the car where Katallina was sitting pressed up against her dog. Gomorrah glanced back, then nodded and stood up, leaving the Fury and shutting the door behind her. ¡°Um,¡± Katallina said. She didn¡¯t continue with that thought. I took a deep breath, then turned so that I could see behind as best as I could. ¡°We need to talk, just a little.¡± ¡°About what?¡± Katallina asked. She sounded wary. And weary. I could understand both. ¡°You don¡¯t have any close family, right?¡± I asked. She shook her head. I didn¡¯t remember exactly how old she was. Thirteen? Fourteen maybe? Older than most of the kittens, but not all of them. Junior¡¯s age, more or less. ¡°I... look, I know what that¡¯s like. And no, I¡¯m not being some asshole adult pretending to sympathize. I¡¯m an orphan too, you know? So, uh, yeah, I¡¯ve been there. And when I was there I was flung off to some shitty orphanage with no choices. Well, I could have left, but that was a non-choice. Look, I don¡¯t want that to happen to anyone, but I¡¯m just me, alright?¡± ¡°Okay?¡± ¡°Fuck, I¡¯m bad at this,¡± I muttered. ¡°If... if it was up to some of the people I know, I think they¡¯d just hand you over to the government. Maybe some would make sure you ended up in a nice orphanage, but it¡¯d be the same mess, you know? Only with nicer bars in your cage. I ain¡¯t keen on that. But I¡¯ve kinda been assuming stuff.¡± ¡°Assuming what?¡± She was petting her dog, the big lump drooling merrily on Gomorrah¡¯s leather seats. ¡°That you¡¯ll just do as I say, I guess. So I¡¯ll lay it out for you, alright?¡± She took a moment before nodding, her thumb rubbing at the side of her gun. ¡°Alright.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got these kids. The kittens. There¡¯s a bunch of them. Nose, and Junior, the Twins and... yeah, a few more. All little shits. All orphans, like me. They¡¯re family, you know? Not by blood, but by circumstance.¡± ¡°You want me to be one of them?¡± Katallina asked. I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m inviting you, I guess. I¡¯m not the boss. I call them my kittens, but that¡¯s like saying, uh, my country, or something. But yeah, I won¡¯t make you do anything. You want to get emancipated and run off with some cash to figure things out, that¡¯s on you. You want to be sent to some governmental place, that¡¯s up to you too. I kinda robbed the people that kidnapped you a bit, and some of that cash is rightfully yours. It¡¯s not retirement money, but it¡¯s a good amount.¡± Katallina shoved herself off the seat and started scooting to the door. ¡°I¡¯ll see,¡± she said. I shook my head and pushed the door on my side open. Was I a magnet for snarky little shits? Did I deserve it? My eyes narrowed. I totally deserved it. Dammit all. I stepped out of the Fury and stretched my fleshy limbs while taking a deep breath of the kerosene-filled air inside the hotel¡¯s hangar. Gomorrah was waiting by the door, arms crossed, feet set, and looking like someone really done with the world around her. The people around her were purposefully moving towards the furthest door from where she stood. Maybe I could ditch the cat theme and go full nun. I was sure people would leave me alone then. Also, Lucy had a thing for serious women in uniforms. I picked my helmet out of the Fury, then grabbed Whisper from the back and slung it over my shoulder opposite my Icarus. I was starting to have a nice collection of things that could blow things up. I almost forgot to grab my newfangled grapple system too. Katallina and her dog waited awkwardly next to Gomorrah until I ran over. ¡°You¡¯re going to leave your car parked there?¡± I asked. ¡°Who¡¯s going to move it?¡± Gomorrah asked. It was a fair point. We moved into the lobby where I noticed a fair number of people looking our way. It was still a bit strange to be the centre of attention like that, but as long as they didn¡¯t try anything I didn¡¯t particularly care. Katallina started walking a bit closer to my side. We moved past one of those little stand-up signs that say ¡®No Pets Allowed¡¯ then stepped into a free elevator. ¡°You mentioned that you have a big family?¡± Gomorrah asked. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Yup,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯ll like them. Well, one or two of them. There are so many that statistically there¡¯s bound to be one that doesn¡¯t annoy you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not reassuring,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°You¡¯ll like Lucy,¡± I said. ¡°Uh, are you into women?¡± Gomorrah slowly turned to stare at me. ¡°What?¡± ¡°It¡¯s an innocent question,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m literally a nun.¡± I shrugged. ¡°That would just make it kinkier. Anyway, if Lucy pinches your bottom just tell her not to. She can get handsy, but she¡¯s nice. If any of the kittens ask you to give them a weapon, don¡¯t. If they¡¯re annoying, just threaten them. Uh, make it look serious though, because I¡¯ve been weaning them off fear for a long time now, and they¡¯re pretty... fearless.¡± ¡±Christ,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Are they people or feral dogs?¡± ¡°They¡¯re poorly raised children,¡± I said. ¡°I was pretty much the only one around that wasn¡¯t insane.¡± Gomorrah stared so hard I could feel it through her mask. ¡°God, watch over my soul.¡± ¡°The kittens aren¡¯t really religious,¡± I said. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine,¡± she deadpanned. I patted her back, then when the elevator door opened, started out into the corridor. We still had guards stationed by the doors, and the place still looked way too clean for the likes of the kittens to be staying there. Katallina¡¯s head was on a swivel, and the dog... was doing dog stuff. I don¡¯t know. I could just make out the kittens talking on the other side of the apartment door, they were talking over a television playing some sort of cartoon, if I had to guess. Someone was doing something in the kitchen, and I decided that I had enough spying on the kittens for a day. The door unlocked as I reached for the handle, and I stepped in with a yawn. It was only mid-day but I was ready for a rest already. ¡°Yo! I¡¯m home. And I brought guests.¡± ¡°Shut up! TVs on,¡± Nose shouted back. He didn¡¯t even turn away from the flashing colours on the floor-to-ceiling screen. I glared, then stared at the TV, connected to it through my augs, and flicked it off. ¡°Hey!¡± came a chorus of whines. ¡°Myalis, can you ping all the kittens and tell them to come over here? Be as creatively threatening as you want.¡± With pleasure! ¡°I have the feeling that being here is a mistake,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Why is this place more fearsome than breaking into a mercenary base?¡± ¡°Because kids are scarier than neckbeards with guns,¡± I said. The kittens, spurned on by Myalis¡¯ threats, gathered up in the... I didn¡¯t know what the huge room that encompassed the kitchen, the living room, and an area with a piano was called. I looked over the sea of little shits, then narrowed my eyes. ¡°Where¡¯s Lucy?¡± I didn¡¯t alert her. I suspect that sending threats to your girlfriend would cause some issues. ¡°She¡¯s sleeping, dipshit,¡± Junior said. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. Daniel wobbled into the room and then came to a stop next to the island in the middle of the kitchen. ¡°Hey,¡± he said. ¡°Nice seeing you alive. That the girl you were trying to save?¡± ¡°Yup. Gomorrah, Daniel, watch over the kittens, I¡¯m going to go wake Lucy up,¡± I said as I took off. I pretended that I couldn¡¯t hear Gomorrah¡¯s ¡®what?¡¯ even though I¡¯d picked it up plenty well. ¡°So, are you a nun, or is that just some cosplay, because if it is just cosplay, you got an Instagram or something?¡± Daniel asked. I left it up to Gomorrah to decide whether or not to choke him. I went over to the master bedroom and carefully opened the door. It was well oiled, and didn¡¯t so much as squeak. Lucy was on the bed, partially covered by a blanket and hugging a pillow. She was in jeans and a t-shirt, and looked like someone that had just flopped down for a quick nap. I couldn¡¯t help but smile as I shuffled over and took off my coat, then the holster beneath. I sat next to her and started to run my hands through her hair. She had wavy hair that always got tangled up if she didn¡¯t take care of it. It was beautiful, but a bit messy, and high maintenance. I would never tell Lucy that it suited her very well. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. Lucy groaned and buried herself deeper into her pillow. ¡°J¡¯ust eat whatever,¡± she said. I snorted. Did she think I was a hungry kitten? She blinked and looked up to me. It took a moment for recognition to flash in her eyes. And then she shoved her head back down. ¡°It¡¯s good you¡¯re back; wake me up later.¡± ¡°Really?¡± I asked. She sighed, yawned, and rolled over onto her back. ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°How was... everything? What time is it?¡± ¡°Who cares?¡± I asked. ¡°Uh, we have guests.¡± She blinked some more. ¡°We have guests?¡± ¡°Yup. You might wanna get up.¡± ¡°Dammit all,¡± she said. But she did get up. Chapter Thirty-Nine - Where Things Go Chapter Thirty-Nine - Where Things Go ¡°He that is without sin among you, let him yeet the first stone. (John 8:3)¡± --Excerpt from The New Youth Bible of 2044 *** ¡°Do you want me to lay out the situation for you?¡± I asked as I helped Lucy to her feet. She paused, then stretched, and for a moment I was distracted by that little bit of belly that appeared when her shirt rode up. ¡°You make it sound serious,¡± she said. ¡°It sorta is,¡± I said. ¡°We saved that girl, and uh, now she¡¯s here. And she¡¯s a bit of an orphan.¡± Lucy turned and looked at me. ¡°You¡¯re so predictable.¡± ¡°What?¡± I asked. She pulled me over, gave me an unfortunately chaste kiss, then used my shoulder as a place to rest her head while hugging me. ¡°Predictable,¡± she muttered. ¡°You saw the girl, felt bad about it, then decided she needed saving, right?¡± ¡°Well, I mean, at a certain angle you could certainly paint the situation to look like that,¡± I said. She pinched my butt, or tried to. The armoured undersuit I was wearing made that a little hard. ¡°Hmmph,¡± she said as she was robbed of one of her favourite past-times. ¡°Well, whatever. We should have some funds, and as long as the girl doesn¡¯t mind sleeping in the same room as the twins it should be okay.¡± ¡°Right, speaking of funds, I made lots of money.¡± ¡°Okay?¡± ¡°Like... multiple millions.¡± Lucy pulled back and looked at me. ¡°I guess that¡¯ll help.¡± ¡°I thought you¡¯d be more excited,¡± I said. ¡°Can we spend some of that on cute clothes?¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°Yes Lucy, we can.¡± ¡°Good. The rest... I guess rent? We¡¯ll need proper food too. I don¡¯t know if we can stay in this much luxury forever.¡± ¡°We could,¡± I said. I¡¯d find a way, if it¡¯s what Lucy wanted. ¡°It¡¯s just a bit much,¡± she said. ¡°But whatever, it doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll find some school stuff for the kittens soon, including the new girl, and... I guess we¡¯ll see where things go from there?¡± ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe we can buy some other goodies? Or, uh, help people, somehow? Speaking of, I left Gomorrah in charge of the kittens.¡± Lucy was confused for a moment, then I saw understanding flash in her eyes. ¡°The nun?¡± ¡°The pyro nun, yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Cool! Let¡¯s go say hi, and make sure the kids didn¡¯t get themselves toasted.¡± I was actually expecting... one of two things.

Gomorrah buried under a pile of kittens, suffocating under their prying questions and being completely lost.

One to ten dead kittens, and a faint odour of charred kids.

Instead I found the kids all sitting in the living room, with Gomorrah resting on the edge of one sofa and telling them all a story. They were being attentive, most sitting cross-legged on the floor and looking up to the samurai with wide eyes. ¡°Wow,¡± Lucy whispered. ¡°...And so on the sixth day, God created the heavens, the sun and the planets. He did this with his own will, and without assistance from any extra-terrestrial or intergalactic force.¡± ¡°When was that?¡± Bargain asked. ¡°That was many thousands of years ago,¡± Gomorrah said. She seemed happy, relaxed and quite content. Bargain¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Give me a thousand credits and I won¡¯t discredit you in front of the others,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve literally seen her burn things alive,¡± I said. ¡°I really wouldn¡¯t fuck with her god-given patience. Anyway, Gomorrah, this is Lucy, my girlfriend. Lucy, this is Gomorrah, she¡¯s a nun, a samurai, and, when she¡¯s not being testy, she¡¯s pretty fun. Also, she¡¯s hot under the mask. Figuratively and literally.¡± ¡°How hot are we talking?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°I give her... point-eight Lucys.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a measure for hotness now?¡± Lucy asked. I nodded seriously. ¡°When you¡¯re in the room? Definitely.¡± This time, instead of a pinch, it was a smack. The armour did its job though, and Lucy shook her hand, looking mighty displeased. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you,¡± Gomorrah said as she stood. ¡°Cat... hasn¡¯t spoken too much about you, but what she said was always very fond. I can tell that she really cares for you, despite your non-standard relationship.¡± Lucy and I looked at each other and we both decided not to poke at that. It was 2057, for fuck¡¯s sake. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°So...¡± I looked over the kittens until I spotted Katallina standing a bit to the side of all of them. ¡°Right, everyone¡¯s met Katallina?¡± I asked. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. There was a lot of nodding. ¡°Awesome. Katallina, wanna come with me and Gomorrah and Lucy, just to the kitchen?¡± We all shuffled quite awkwardly over to the island in the kitchen. Fortunately, the kittens started to be noisey soon enough. The TV came back on, the phones and augs came out, and they started to play and argue, creating a familiar hum of background noise, occasionally punctuation by indignant screams and the malicious laughter of children. We settled down except for Lucy who moved over to the fridge. ¡°What do you guys want? We have... literally everything.¡± ¡°Just water,¡± Gomorrah said. She reached up and undid her mask fully, then set it on the table next to her. ¡°Taking it off?¡± I asked. ¡°I assume that since this is your home, most of your points went into securing it,¡± she said. ¡°It should be fine, right?¡± I chuckled nervously and earned myself a suspicious look from the nun. Lucy returned, setting some bottles on the table. Water for Gomorrah, soda for the rest of us. When she took in Gomorrah¡¯s face, sweaty blonde hair, delicate nose and all, she paused. ¡°That¡¯s a point eight?¡± she asked. ¡°Cat, were you trying to moisten me up for later by using some sort of weird compliment?¡± ¡°She loses points for being a nun,¡± I explained. ¡°How so?¡± Gomorrah asked as she took a pull from her bottle of water. ¡°Nuns have natural resistance to lesbianism,¡± I said. The water went everywhere. I started opening cupboards until I found some paper towels (not even the thrice-recycled sort. This place was really fancy) and started wiping down my face and the counters. ¡°That was a reaction,¡± I said. Gomorrah finished catching her breath, then glared at me. ¡°Ohh, she¡¯s even hotter when she''s angry,¡± Lucy said. ¡°That¡¯s just so cruel.¡± ¡°Can either of you take anything seriously?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°You¡¯re seriously cute,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I¡¯m seriously contemplating inviting you to a threesome.¡± Gomorrah¡¯s mouth worked while blood rushed to her face. She couldn¡¯t seem to decide on whether to glare or just blush herself to death. I laughed and bumped shoulders with Lucy. ¡°Alright, we can tease you later,¡± I said. ¡°We do need to, uh, talk about stuff? Mostly I wanted you here because the kittens can be annoying in large doses.¡± ¡°What about me?¡± Katallina asked. ¡°Well, I wanted to see if you liked the kittens. You can still say no, you know?¡± I asked. She looked to the table, then carefully took the soda Lucy had given her and sipped from it before answering. ¡°I guess I could stay? I can leave if I don¡¯t like it, right?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°And I can keep Catkilller?¡± Lucy blinked. ¡°What?¡± The dog, probably hearing its name, strutted on over while leaving a fresh line of drool on the carpet. One of the kittens whined at it leaving, but the dog didn¡¯t seem to care much. It dropped its head onto Katallina¡¯s lap and drooled there for a bit. ¡°A puppy!¡± Lucy squealed. She teleported to the other side of the island and was soon rubbing herself against the dog, who seemed to thoroughly enjoy the sudden loud attention. ¡°Who¡¯s a good boy? Who¡¯s a good boy? Your name is Catkiller? That¡¯s a good name, yes it is!¡± ¡°It¡¯s an awful name,¡± I said. ¡°I think it¡¯s a nice name,¡± Gomorrah said. I huffed. ¡°Can we change his name?¡± I asked Katallina. The girl looked at me, wide-eyed. ¡°You can¡¯t change a dog¡¯s name,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s literally called Catkiller! That¡¯s like... going to inspire violence with the kittens, or something.¡± ¡°You let me keep a laser rifle,¡± Katallina said. ¡°That¡¯s different,¡± I muttered. I¡¯m not sure anyone heard me over the cooing noises Lucy was making while petting the dumb dog. Are you jealous of a dog? ¡°I¡¯m the one she... you know what, I¡¯m not finishing that,¡± I said. Taking a breath, I cleared my throat. ¡°Katallina. Welcome to the kittens, I guess. Don¡¯t shoot any of them, no matter how annoying they get, alright?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do my best,¡± she said. ¡°And, uh, thanks.¡± I gave her a thumb¡¯s up, then went to fetch a snack from the fridge. On returning, I placed another bottle before Gomorrah and slumped onto a stool. ¡°So, tell me more about these home defence things?¡± I asked. She closed her eyes. ¡°How many points do you have?¡± ¡°About... seven thousand and change?¡± The nun rubbed at her face. ¡°You... are stupid. You could have saved us a day of running around with that amount of points.¡± ¡°My bad?¡± ¡°Alright, let me teach you the principles of spending points as a samurai, because it¡¯s obvious that you¡¯re not learning on your own.¡± Chapter Forty - Bicker Bicker Chapter Forty - Bicker Bicker ¡°Samurai are basically mad-scientists when it comes to wherever they live. Sure, you might find out where that is, but trying to break in is likely to have you turned into a rat by some needlessly cruel defence system. It¡¯s just not worth it.¡± --Longbow, final interview given to a team of reporters that attempted to break into his home, 2049 *** When Gomorrah said she¡¯d teach me, I was expecting her to just kind of informally tell me a few things, maybe drop a few hints, give a couple of tips. I was not expecting her to drag me over to the one unused room in the penthouse--the office--and sit me down on a chair in the middle of the room. Lucy, of course, followed. I think the dog would have followed too, but one of the kittens dropped something in the living room, and he proved his shortsightedness by abandoning all love for Lucy in favour of chasing down floor food. ¡°You, as we have firmly established already,¡± Gomorrah began. ¡°Are an idiot.¡± I blinked. ¡°Okay... that¡¯s a bit rude.¡± ¡°Do you have anything that protects you from your own explosives?¡± ¡°...No?¡± ¡°My point is made,¡± she said. ¡°Myalis never suggested anything like that,¡± I said. You never asked. Gomorrah pinched the bridge of her nose and then, upon letting go, went through some calming exercises. ¡°Okay. Okay. This is really something you should have learned early on.¡± ¡°What is?¡± I asked. ¡°The protectors, god bless them, are wonderful, but they are not entirely human. Don¡¯t get me wrong, they probably understand human psychology better than any human does, but that doesn¡¯t mean they use that knowledge all the time.¡± ¡°Uh, okay?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t get it!¡± Lucy cheerfully jumped onto the same boat as me. ¡°You have an excuse,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°It¡¯s okay if I don¡¯t get things because I¡¯m cute?¡± Lucy asked. Gomorrah rolled her eyes. ¡°No, you don¡¯t have an AI in your mind. Stray Cat... Cat here, does. She should have been told this by now.¡± ¡°My role models so far have been Deus Ex, who¡¯s a little shit, Longbow, who is a LARPer, and you,¡± I pointed out. ¡°God Almighty.¡± I snorted, then Lucy giggled, which made me chuckle, and soon she plopped herself onto the same seat as me, both of us bouncing as we laughed. Gomorrah sighed. ¡°The point I¡¯m trying to get at is that the Protectors only protect if you ask for it. The AI will not prompt you to better yourself, merely provide the tools to do so. Exceptional ones, but still just more tools.¡± ¡°So I need to ask Myalis for stuff?¡± ¡°A wild oversimplification, but essentially correct.¡± Gomorrah started to pace. It was a nice office for pacing in. One wall had a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked part of the city. It was only with my cybernetic eye that I could tell it wasn¡¯t an actual window, but a stupidly-high-def screen. ¡°There¡¯s a list of things you should be asking for.¡± ¡°Is that list common knowledge?¡± I asked. ¡°Among samurai? More or less. It tends to change from area to area, and no one respects it entirely because... samurai and rules,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Aren¡¯t you included in that?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°I am a terrible nun,¡± Gomorrah admitted without batting an eye. ¡°The list goes something like this, in order of priority...¡± She looked about, saw the window, then gestured at it and a list appeared.

Secure your home
Secure yourself
Obtain greater equipment
Obtain the means of producing your equipment
Secure the assets you care about
Obtain comforts

¡°There.¡± I tilted my head to the side to try and figure the list out. ¡°Yeah, it needs examples. Maybe some cartoon-ish drawings on the side in corpo-art style to help me figure it out?¡± Lucy poked me with her elbow. ¡°Don¡¯t be difficult,¡± she muttered. ¡°Gomorrah is trying to help. So, miss nun, you said the first thing is protecting our home?¡± ¡°Generally, yes,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°There are limits. Anyone with sufficient explosives can take out a building like this, and in that case nothing in your price-range will protect this apartment. But there are ways of protecting you against anything up to that. I have turret emplacements around the church, with an electronic warfare system in place, as well as a few drones that protect the building.¡± ¡°How much did you sink on that?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been a little cheap. The church is a somewhat public place, after all. And if it¡¯s destroyed, well, I could move elsewhere. I¡¯m attached to a few of the sisters, but they¡¯re not exactly family,¡± Gomorrah said. She managed to sound uncomfortable without her expression changing at all. ¡°I¡¯ve put two-thousand or so points into defensive measures.¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. I whistled. ¡°That¡¯s more than I¡¯ve spent, total... I think.¡± She nodded. ¡°I expected as much. You¡¯re very frugal.¡± ¡°Hey, I don¡¯t know where my next points might come from.¡± ¡°What you can¡¯t buy with points you can obtain with hard credits,¡± Gomorrah said. She wiggled a finger at me, completing the image of an annoyed nun. ¡°More points can be obtained later. Worse case, get some blueprints for something new and sell those to the highest bidder.¡± I raised my hands in surrender. Well, one of them, the other was being held onto by Lucy. ¡°Okay, fine. So let¡¯s say I put two... maybe three thousand into home defence stuff. That leaves me with about four thousand points?¡± ¡°That¡¯s enough for some self-modification,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Did you get any?¡± I asked. She reddened a little. I was beginning to think the mask was more to hide her blush than anything else. ¡°God¡¯s Righteous Fury cost four thousand points. And the tier two catalogue wasn¡¯t inexpensive either.¡± ¡°Wow, and you¡¯re giving me shit,¡± I said. ¡°My car can serve as a perfectly valid place to reside in, in a pinch.¡± ¡°How very fiscally responsible of you,¡± I said. ¡°So, I should spend the remainder of my points on a big cool toy?¡± Lucy poked me again. ¡°Don¡¯t be silly Cat, you can¡¯t spend all of them on toys. A few is fine though.¡± ¡°Like that toy in our bedroom?¡± I asked. She nodded quite seriously, but I recognized the mischievous glint in her eyes. ¡°When we get married, I want Mr Tentacles to be the best man.¡± I couldn¡¯t hold back a grin. ¡°Marriage, huh? Wait, is that even a man?¡± ¡°Cat. It has like, sixteen penises.¡± ¡°Good point.¡± Gomorrah looked a little nauseous. ¡°I truly do not want to know.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± I said. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to corrupt your no doubt pure and chaste mind. So, since I¡¯m not obsessed with cats, maybe I should spend those points on other things? I wonder what Deus Ex spends her points on?¡± ¡°You should spend them on things that keep you alive,¡± Lucy said. ¡°If you die I might be a little upset and you wouldn¡¯t want that.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right, upsetting you a little would be awful,¡± I said. ¡°Also, you need to let me pick out some gear for you that looks cool. Your sense of fashion is shit.¡± I squeezed her a little. ¡°It is not,¡± I said. ¡°Your helmet had whiskers.¡± ¡°That wasn¡¯t me!¡± I defended myself. Gomorrah stopped her pacing and stretched a little. ¡°It¡¯s getting late,¡± she said. A glance outside revealed that the sun was well on its way to setting. ¡°I should head back home soon. Do put up some defences around your home here, please. I¡¯d be mildly disappointed to learn that someone enterprising killed you in your sleep.¡± I lifted Lucy up and plopped her down next to me. She squirmed a little at the treatment, but stopped as soon as I got up. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll uh, walk you to the door?¡± ¡°I¡¯d appreciate that,¡± she said. Lucy jumped up behind me, then pulled Gomorrah into a quick hug. ¡°Thanks for taking care of my Cat,¡± she said. ¡°I know she¡¯s a lot of trouble, and a bit stupid, and sometimes she¡¯s a bitch, but I still like her.¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Gomorrah said over my indignant grumbling. ¡°I think she¡¯s becoming something of a friend.¡± We escorted Gomorrah past the kittens, some of whom were polite enough to say goodbye, then, once we finished repeating out goodbyes again, and the door was shut behind her, I found a nice place to rest, leaning up against Lucy for support with my head leaning against hers. ¡°I¡¯m tired,¡± I said. She laughed. ¡°I can tell. Do you want to do that security stuff first? I¡¯m sure I can keep you energized until then.¡± ¡°That sounds fun,¡± I muttered. Somehow, we made it over to the bedroom without tripping over each other, unfortunately, Lucy tended to be a work-before-pleasure kind of person, and she just sat down on one of the cushy seats in the corner of the room. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s buy shit!¡± ¡°Alright, alright, where do we start?¡± The door clicked open and a Dumbass skittered in. ¡°Do forgive the intrusion,¡± it said in Myalis¡¯ voice. ¡°But I did wish to be able to talk to both of you without needing to resort to Lucy¡¯s frankly atrocious augmentations.¡± ¡°Ohh, come here,¡± Lucy said. She made wiggly-hands at the drone who quickly settled onto her lap. ¡°Right, so home defence stuff,¡± I said as I settled onto the edge of the bed. ¡°Where do we start?¡± ¡°From the top,¡± Myalis said. ¡°If that¡¯s what you wish.¡± *** Chapter Forty-One - Big olâ€™ Mecha Cats Chapter Forty-One - Big ol¡¯ Mecha Cats ¡°On every governmental document, there is a tiny checkbox, entirely hidden in the document¡¯s code. This checkbox can only be checked off by solving a complex cryptographic code, the sort that adds a few megabytes to the size of the document¡¯s file. It essentially reads as such: If you are a samurai, check the following box: Once checked, the document is considered ¡®complete¡¯ regardless of how much or how little was filled on it. An analyst will check to determine if the providence truly does belong to a samurai, and will then file the document accordingly.¡± --IRS ¡®Blue book¡¯ instructional manual. *** To be entirely honest, I really didn¡¯t feel like working, and yes, contrary to what Lucy believed, shopping for stuff totally counted as working. Mister Tentacles was over in the corner, doing nothing, and both Lucy and I had a lot of free time all of a sudden. There were at least a dozen very fun things we could have been doing instead. But no, I had responsibilities and stuff to take care of first. I sighed. ¡°Okay, from the top then,¡± I said. ¡°Wonderful!¡± Myalis said. ¡°If you wish to follow the list Gomorrah outlined for you, then the first purchase you should look into is a method by which to secure your place of residence.¡± Lucy leaned back, still hugging the dumbass close. ¡°That might be tricky,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I asked. ¡°We don¡¯t exactly have a place of residence.¡± I blinked, then gestured around the lavish room. ¡°What¡¯s this then?¡± ¡°A hotel room? It¡¯s really nice, and I¡¯m sure with your crazy samurai money you could keep us here for a while, but it¡¯s not permanent,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯ll happen if you get hurt? Will we get kicked out? What if we want more kittens? They¡¯re already two or three to a room, which is fine since we have big beds here, but that¡¯s a temporary solution.¡± I leaned back into the very comfortable bed. ¡°Damn. Alright, so we need a house. Like, a proper place to stay in. Myalis, can you give me an idea of what a place would cost?¡± ¡°The range of prices for a home is rather huge, you are aware. Perhaps a few additional factors to narrow it down? I¡¯m assuming you want to stay within the same hemisphere?¡± ¡°Uh, right, that¡¯s true. Same city? Maybe... a place with enough room for all the kittens, and then a few more.¡± I sat up then pulled my legs in and started to pull my boots off. My feet were... completely fine. It felt as though they should have been achey, but my alien boots were too good for that apparently. ¡°Maybe we can buy a place and renovate it?¡± ¡°The good news in that case is that quite a few buildings were recently evacuated and are being dealt with by local insurance companies. Some small businesses have also surrendered their leases.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Lucy said. ¡°That¡¯s great! We could buy like, an entire penthouse floor.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t imagine the top floor of a building being cheap,¡± I said. ¡°There is only one for sale right now. It happens to be one you¡¯re familiar with.¡± It took a moment for that to click. ¡°No way,¡± I said. Then again, the damage had been fairly extensive, and I couldn¡¯t imagine the folks that had been there with us not suing the ever loving shit out of the idiots who ran the place. And I recalled Longbow being a bit miffed too, what with some of his gear being messed with. ¡°It¡¯s current going rate is Two-hundred ninety-eight million credits.¡± I worked my jaw. ¡°Uh. That¡¯s a bit more than what I have. Is that to buy the building?¡± ¡°It¡¯s to buy the topmost floor. Not including yearly utilities. As a samurai, you wouldn¡¯t need to pay taxes, of course.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a bit much,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Like, a big bit much.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied. But I was still thinking about it. It was a nice enough building. And I bet we could add some decent security. Longbow would probably be fixing that roof-mounted gun of his, which was a nice bonus. And there was parking on the roof and out front. ¡°I¡¯m really tempted,¡± I said. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± Lucy said. ¡°That place was huge.¡± ¡°Exactly. Plenty of space to build rooms for the kittens. It might be really neat. And it needs renovations anyway, so we could armour it up or whatever.¡± I nodded, liking the idea. ¡°It¡¯ll make for a really cool place to live.¡± ¡°You did catch on to the fact that the price tag has nine figures, right?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Yup,¡± I said. ¡°You don¡¯t like the location?¡± This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. She giggled. It was a strange giggle though. ¡°Oh, wow, uh, yeah, it¡¯s a nice location, I guess.¡± ¡°Myalis, can you get in touch with the company selling the place, then tell them that we¡¯re interested?¡± I asked. ¡°And do you know how to negotiate to lower the prices?¡± ¡°I can certainly manage,¡± Myalis said. ¡°Though I have to say, that securing a place to live, while wonderful, doesn¡¯t help in securing the location where you¡¯re living.¡± It took a moment for me to untangle that one. Myalis was right though, having a place to live didn¡¯t mean we were in any way safe. ¡°Right, we need security stuff,¡± I said. ¡°We need security stuff that we can eventually move over to somewhere else.¡± Lucy clapped her hands, which was a good sign she¡¯d come up with an awful idea I¡¯d eventually agree to because she was Lucy. ¡°Giant killer robot cats,¡± she said. I flopped back down to the bed, and covered my head with an arm. ¡°Aww, come on!¡± Lucy said. ¡°Hear me out!¡± She came over and bounced onto the bed, then, because the huge expanse of mattress wasn¡¯t big enough, she ended up on top of me, straddling me with her face over mine. It wasn¡¯t a sexy straddle though, it was the ¡®Lucy wants something silly¡¯ straddle. ¡°Giant cats, but they¡¯re mecha, with like... laser guns inside them. And they can walk around and murderize things.¡± ¡°There are a few options that would fit those rather loose criteria,¡± Myalis, the traitor, said. ¡°Seriously?¡± I asked. ¡°It sounds ridiculous.¡± ¡°It¡¯s entirely on-brand. You need to think of the branding! Also, the kittens wouldn¡¯t be afraid of them, and we could move them over to wherever we go to live later.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± I said. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t cover everything though.¡± ¡°Buy different kinds. Like, Gomorrah said we¡¯d need some sort of electronic warfare sort of thing, right? Buy a cat like that. Oh, and one that¡¯s all shields and stuff, and one that¡¯s got, like, a cannon.¡± ¡°This is sounding expensive,¡± I said. ¡°Approximately four hundred points so far,¡± Myalis said. I reached up and pulled Lucy down onto me. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I¡¯m such a softy,¡± I said. ¡°You really are,¡± she said. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s take this a little more seriously,¡± I said. Mostly because the sooner we finished, the sooner I could ravish the girl pressing herself up against me. ¡°Let''s say we spend five hundred points or so on home defence. Mobile stuff, like your giant cat drones. That¡¯s... a fair amount of points, but not too many. I think... yeah, we should diversify things a little. Maybe a couple of more mobile drones, and a few specialized ones?¡± I heard the dumbass Myalis was controlling move closer to the bed. ¡°One electronic countermeasures drone. One heavy weapons platform, and three simpler weapons platforms?¡± ¡°Maybe replace one of the simpler ones with a drone that can use non-lethals?¡± I asked. ¡°As a sort of first resort.¡± ¡°Non-lethal for someone trying to mess with the house, or the kittens?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Mostly because I don¡¯t want the kittens to get caught in the splash damage,¡± I said. ¡°Or for them to see someone¡¯s head blow up.¡± Though I watched the same shows as them, it wasn¡¯t too shocking to see that kind of thing, even in real life. ¡°I see. I have picked out what I hope are the best options for what you¡¯re looking for,¡± Myalis said. ¡°Do you want me to project an image of what they would look like?¡± ¡°Ohh!¡± Lucy said as she rolled off me. Myalis was such a fucking clam-jammer. I sat up just as five fuzzy holograms materialized, then sharpened into more precise images. The drones looked like cats. Giant mechanical cats, without any fur and made of metallic plates in a dull black that I suspected the holograms couldn¡¯t do justice. ¡°Those look like they¡¯re pretty big,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Approximately the size of a Bengal tiger,¡± Myalis said. The five looked pretty similar, though one had a broader back, and another had a lot more fins along its sides and where its ribs would have been were it an organic creature. The heavy weapons platform and the electronic warfare one, if I had to guess. ¡°These are Se-Cat-Urity Drones, Mar--¡± ¡°Wait wait,¡± I cut her off. ¡°Se-Cat-Urity drones? Were you even trying with that name?¡± Lucy giggled, which didn¡¯t help any. ¡°Very well then, I¡¯ll send a ticket to have them renamed... Sent. Acknowledge. Accepted. The drones have officially been renamed. They are now classified as Personal Use, Security Systems, Model Y.¡± Lucy¡¯s giggle turned into a full-blown laugh, and I started to look for something to throw at Myalis. *** Chapter Forty-Two - Invasive Chapter Forty-Two - Invasive ¡°If you¡¯re going to kill a samurai, make sure to double tap.¡± --Anonymous *** I reluctantly got off the bed and walked around the five large cat mecha sitting in a row. The holograms flickered whenever I walked between them and the Dumbass Myalis was using to project them, but I still had a good idea of what the machines looked like. ¡°These are pretty intimidating,¡± I said. They were. With scowling eyes and a build that made them look like one of those cloned tigers the super-rich had in their mansions. No stripes, but the way their armour was jointed hinted at something similar. The holograms flickered, and suddenly the mecha were bristling with weapons. ¡°Every unit has a pair of basic firearms. Belt fed, five point six millimeter machine guns mounted in the ribs. The combat units have larger guns. These are rail-fired magnetically propelled grenade launchers. With customizable payloads.¡± The railguns twitched this way and that. ¡°The face of most units can open up, and the jaws are strong enough to break bone. The claws all have arc-jets in them. Effectively electrical welders to soften nearby targets. The heavier model has a hellfire, belt-fed missile launcher instead of the railgun, and the electronic countermeasure unit, I¡¯m afraid, focuses mostly on E-war applications, and therefore lacks the room for deployable weapons.¡± ¡°Is this what shopping is like for you all the time?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Because I¡¯m a bit jealous.¡± ¡°The non-lethal version,¡± Myalis continued. One of the mechs started to spin slowly. ¡°Is equipped with tasers, gas deployment systems, and guns that can spray an irritating adhesive. Contact from the latter to a human¡¯s skin should cause them debilitating pain.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound very nonlethal,¡± Lucy said. ¡°While they may wish for death, they won¡¯t be dead,¡± Myalis said. I nodded. ¡°How much for the five?¡± I asked. Myalis was quick to answer. ¡°Four hundred and ninety five points. Just shy of your five hundred point budget.¡± I looked at Lucy, and she nodded. It was a big purchase, but it was meant to keep the kittens, and Lucy, safe. When put in that light, it really wasn''t much. ¡°Let¡¯s do it, then,¡± I said. New Purchase: P.U.S.S Model Y - Security Mechs (Various) - Five Models Points reduced to... 7015 Five boxes appeared across the floor, all in a neat row. ¡°Oh! Like Christmas!¡± Lucy said as she catapulted herself off the bed. She landed with a stumble, legs wobbling a bit, so I caught her in a quick hug to keep her steady. ¡°Can I open them?¡± she asked as she assaulted me with big wet eyes. ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I said. The boxes were the same cheap-looking plastic that all of my stuff came in. Lucy had to scramble with the sides of the first a bit before she found the edge and tore it off. Inside, tucked in nice and neatly, was a folded up mecha cat. Its eyes sparked and glowed, and it stretched itself out of the box while Lucy cooed at it. I was kinda impressed that it had fit in there, but then, cats were mostly liquid, and it looked like a cat. Lucy patted it, then moved on to the next box until we had five mecha roaming around the room. They were deathly quiet, and scanned everything as if it would jump out and try to eat them without a moment¡¯s notice. ¡°I¡¯m going to go tell the kittens not to be afraid,¡± Lucy said. She pat her hip and whistled, as if the cats were dogs, and they immediately formed up and followed after her. ¡°Should I be disturbed that she knows how to control them so easily?¡± I muttered. Does that same trick work on you? It might just be an ingrained habit. I wanted to be angry, but Myalis was probably at least a little bit right. ¡°What¡¯re we looking into next?¡± I have received a reply from the realtor currently in charge of the museum. They¡¯re a rather luxurious company, in charge of selling and buying high-end properties across the east coast of the continent. They wish to set up a meeting with you, on-site, at your earliest convenience. ¡°Huh. Do you know when the incursion zone will be cleared for civilians?¡± Myalis was quiet for a moment. Reconstruction is slated to begin tomorrow morning, with heightened security until the end of the week. ¡°Fast,¡± I said. ¡°Ask them if they want to show up tomorrow morning... no, tomorrow afternoon.¡± Message sent. Lucy returned with a rather smug smile on. ¡°The kittens love them. Catkiller not so much, but he¡¯ll get used to them.¡± ¡°Awesome,¡± I said. ¡°How¡¯s Katallina?¡± ¡°The twins are all over her,¡± Lucy said. ¡°She seems happy. Or at least distracted.¡± This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Almost as good,¡± I said. ¡°Are the rest of the brats distracted?¡± I asked. Something must have snuck into my voice because Lucy gave me a look. ¡°We¡¯re not done shopping yet,¡± she said. ¡°Right Myalis? What was the next thing on Cat¡¯s list?¡± ¡°The next item is personal protection,¡± Myalis said, switching back to speaking from the drone. ¡°I think Vanguard Gomorrah meant more than just the surface level of protection here. This should encompass everything from protective gear to further bodily modifications?¡± ¡°Oh, bod mods!¡± Lucy cheered. I rolled my eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve got the arm and the ears already,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t forget the tail,¡± Lucy said.¡±I like it. It gives me something to grab onto.¡± ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d like less... uh, obvious stuff. Also, the tail¡¯s not stuck to my body or anything.¡± ¡°You are deficient in a few places,¡± Myalis said. ¡°Even if we focus mainly on organs and modifications that are less apparent, there is a lot that can be done to help you. Notably, you might want to focus on items that improve your digestion, assist you in removing toxins and other unwanted elements from your body, and systems which can improve the rate at which you heal.¡± ¡°Healing is good,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Got anything that¡¯ll give her abs? Big, sexy ones. Like a cheese grater.¡± ¡°Hey,¡± I complained. Lucy pulled me into a quick hug. ¡°You know I love you, handles and all.¡± She pinched my stomach, where I very much didn¡¯t have handles. ¡°But abs are really fucking hot.¡± I poked her in the stomach. ¡°What about you? Huh? All that rich food.¡± ¡°We just need to do some more cardio,¡± Lucy agreed. ¡°We have many options to improve your physique, although, it has been noted that self-improvement of one¡¯s own body does produce slightly better results in the field over faster methods.¡± I squirmed a little. ¡°So, how invasive are we talking here?¡± ¡°Generally speaking, not invasive at all,¡± Myalis said. ¡°You¡¯ve done more invasive things with Lucy here in the past day or so.¡± Lucy snorted. I shook my head. ¡°Idiots, the both of you. Now, that self-healing thing, what¡¯s that all about? And is it a separate thing from the, uh, anti-poison one?¡± ¡°Anti-toxin, and that is entirely up to you. If you want to avoid any complex surgeries, and want to keep the number of purchases to a minimum, I would advise investing a few more points to purchase a single module that covers as wide a range of options as possible. It is unlikely to do them all as well as specialized prosthetics and replacements to your current organs, but it would likely be a solution that covers a lot of ground.¡± I nodded. ¡°Okay, alright. And I¡¯d need to be operated on?¡± ¡°For a few more points, the organ could be transported directly into your body.¡± ¡°Wow, that sounds awful,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Where will the, uh, stuff that¡¯s already there go?¡± ¡°They would be mulched by the new organ as it sets itself into place, then passed with Cat¡¯s normal waste removal methods.¡± ¡°You want me to shit out my liver?¡± I asked. I wasn¡¯t sure if I should be horrified or fascinated, so I settled for a bit of both. Myalis took a worrying moment to respond. ¡°Technically it would be a liver, as well as both kidneys, and a lower rib.¡± ¡°How big is this thing?¡± I asked. The dumbass projected a hologram of a metal thing, with a sack on one side, and a lot of little pipes sticking out of it. It looked about as big around as a football, though one that had been deflated a little and then sat on. ¡°This is from your Sunwatch Technologies catalogue. It¡¯s a versatile replacement organ. It can pump, filter, and replenish your blood, create small repair nanites that it can fuse to your white blood cells, and it has a sophisticated hormonal control system that allows it to assist your body¡¯s functions. It is, as you can imagine, a little more durable than normal human organs as well.¡± ¡°How much healing can it do?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°It assists in clot formation, can more efficiently produce the materials the body uses to heal itself, and it can generally pin-point various ailments and act to rectify them. Mostly, it will prevent sickness, though it will not stop everything, nor will it do things like regrow limbs.¡± ¡°So, cuts heal faster and I wouldn¡¯t get a cold?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes to the former. The latter is technically accurate. If a small cut takes a week to heal until it is no longer visible with your unaugmented body, this would reduce that time to a mere few days.¡± ¡°So no instant-regrowth stuff?¡± I asked. ¡°That would require far more invasive, and numerous, systems,¡± Myalis said. I groaned. ¡°Fine, fine. Walk me through how to install that thing.¡± *** Chapter Forty-Three - Comfy Morning Rituals Chapter Forty-Three - Comfy Morning Rituals ¡°Indentured servitude isn¡¯t as bad as people make it out to be. After all, the person in charge of an indentured person--the use of the word ¡®slave¡¯ should be avoided at all times--is legally obligated to care for that person. That means that the minimum standards for living, such as (limited) entertainment, food (up to a caloric amount calculated based on the indentured¡¯s BMI) and living space, must all be provided alongside fulfilling work that can, at a reasonable pace, cover the cost of those living expenses, as well as a certain percentage of the indentured¡¯s debt. Servitude just means that someone is willing and able to serve in order to pay off their debts! That¡¯s it! --American IS Bureau pamphlet, 2047 *** I woke up when the bed shifted and lazily made my ears twitch. My new ears let me sense things with a sort of echolocation, and that meant that I didn¡¯t need to turn my head and open my eyes to see what was going on. Someone very pretty was climbing into bed, bare feet slipping in and brushing past my calves. They were a little cold, but I didn¡¯t mind much. She laid herself down behind me and wrapped an arm around my middle. Lucy usually liked being the little spoon, so I enjoyed the reversal while I could. ¡°Are you awake?¡± she whispered. It tickled the base of my neck in a very pleasant way. ¡°Mmm,¡± I replied as I shifted back a bit. I was sore, so the movement wasn¡¯t all that comfortable. Some of that soreness was the fun kind--Mister Tentacles had gotten a workout--but some of it, especially around my gut, was a bit strange. Installing that artificial organ thing had been almost traumatising. If it wasn¡¯t for Lucy¡¯s careful ministrations afterwards I might have found the whole thing awful. Lucy placed an arm over me and pulled me in closer. She was only wearing an oversized shirt, which made the snuggling a whole lot more fun. ¡°Where were you?¡± I muttered. ¡°Checking on the kittens,¡± she replied. She sounded as if she was already nearing sleep. ¡°Mmm,¡± I agreed. At some point my breathing became even, and I dipped back down into sleep. I woke up a second time when Lucy started snoring into my ears. It was a reverberating noise, only broken up by the occasional snort. Sighing, I turned over and faced her. She was sleeping with her mouth open, and looked incredibly dumb with her hair poking out this way and that. I made sure to take a picture with my cybernetic eye. I wanted to stay under the blankets, and just sleep the entire day away. The counter in the corner of my eye telling me it was eleven could get bent for all I cared. But I really had to piss. I wiggled out of the covers, trying hard not to wake Lucy up, until my feet touched the floor. It was warm, because of course the hotel had heated floors. I padded to the bathroom and did what I had to do. By the time I was done, sleeping was no longer an option. My boots were tossed across the room, and I was too damned lazy to fetch them. I just found a shirt in one of the drawers, then some underthings and I moved out of the room. I wasn¡¯t alone to get up so early. Katallina was filling a bowl with some milk. I watched her for a moment, then found my own bowl and set it next to hers. I grabbed the cereal, shook the box to make sure it wasn¡¯t empty, then took the milk when she was done with it. We crunched away for a bit before she interrupted the quiet by pointing to the box. It had Longbow¡¯s face on it, of course. ¡°When¡¯s that going to be you?¡± she asked. ¡°When I¡¯m desperate for cash,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s a meme of you online,¡± she said. I blinked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Yeah. There¡¯s this van, and you do a thing to throw it off the side of this building, but you almost fell off with it. They¡¯re memeing it.¡± I groaned and chewed harder. I was going to have words with Longbow. ¡°How did you sleep?¡± ¡°Alright,¡± she said. Wonderful conversationalists, the both of us. ¡°Cool, cool. If any of the kittens give you trouble, you tell me, alright?¡± Katallina nodded, which I figured was good enough. I had just about finished when Lucy trudged into the kitchen while wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. ¡°Hey,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re up?¡± Stolen novel; please report. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Sleep well?¡± ¡°No. It got cold after you left.¡± She looked at my bowl, then scowled and opened the fridge. Soon enough she was burning eggs on the stove and there was bread being roasted in the toaster. ¡°What¡¯re you doing today?¡± she asked. You have an appointment in a few hours. I blinked. ¡°Right, I have an appointment this afternoon, in like, a bit. Want to come?¡± ¡°Come? What¡¯s the appointment?¡± she asked. I followed her with my gaze as she returned to the fridge, especially when she bent over to pull something from a bottom rack. ¡°Mm? Oh, it¡¯s to check on a house. For, uh, us,¡± I said. I was way too young to be saying such adult-y things. Lucy stared at me. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yeah. The museum Myalis mentioned?¡± I said. ¡°Just checking in with some realtor person, I think. Maybe they wanna give me a tour? I don¡¯t know, exactly. Want to come?¡± Lucy nodded. ¡°Sure, let me eat and then I¡¯ll get dressed... apropos nothing, I only have one change of clothes. Uh, the kittens too.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± I said. Going on three days with the same clothes on, that was going to stink soon, not just metaphorically. ¡°Right, we¡¯ll see about ordering some stuff for everyone. I have enough for that.¡± A glance to the side, and I caught Katallina looking my way. ¡°We¡¯ll secure your things too, if we can,¡± I said. She nodded, then got up and left. Her dog padded out from under the counter where I hadn¡¯t noticed him and followed after her. ¡°So, just the two of us?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Yup. You trust the cat bots to babysit the kittens?¡± ¡°Better than bitchbot,¡± Lucy said. That was a fair point. The kittens were pretty self-sufficient, and I was pretty sure the cat bots could keep them safe. ¡°Hey, Myalis, if something happens around the bots, can you inform me?¡± Of course. By the way, you still have things on Gomorrah¡¯s list to purchase. ¡°I know, I wanna see the museum first. Might need to sink points into remodelling or whatever,¡± I said. That is reasonable. Shall I obtain transportation to the museum for you? I nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡± Lucy shook her head and headed out, presumably to get changed. ¡°Something comfortable this time,¡± I said. Of course. I actually like Lucy. I snorted, but couldn¡¯t argue. I liked her too. I finished up by tossing everything in the dishes, and by resisting the urge to steal from Lucy¡¯s plate. Instead I looked around, spotted one of the cat bots, and pointed to the plate, then my eyes. It nodded, which was pretty cool. I returned to our room and started looking for my clothes. They¡¯d been tossed here and there the night before, so I had to crawl around to find some things, but at least I got to help Lucy find her own things at the same time. Twenty minutes later, with only some of that time lost to fondling and other such distractions, we were both heading out. ¡°Oh!¡± I said. ¡°I forgot to give you my old jacket.¡± ¡°You¡¯re giving me your handouts out?¡± Lucy asked as she followed me to the kitchen. ¡°It can turn you partially invisible,¡± I said. ¡°And it¡¯s got big bullet holes in it. Looks pretty rad.¡± Lucy took the coat, and looked pretty pleased with herself until she poked at the holes. ¡°Hey, wait, you were shot?¡± ¡°It happens,¡± I said as I led the two of us out of the penthouse and locked it up behind me. ¡°Cat!¡± Lucy barked. I regretted giving her the coat. ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± I said. ¡°Is that why you had a bruise on your breast?¡± she asked as she lined the coat up. It was a bit loose around her shoulders, and tight around the chest, but it still fit her just fine. We were used to second and third-hand clothes. I declined to answer as I moved over to the elevator. ¡°Hey!¡± she said. ¡°It was nothing,¡± I said. ¡°No, getting shot isn¡¯t nothing!¡± ¡°It¡¯s part of the job. A little bit. It¡¯s one of those high-risk, high-rewards things,¡± I said. ¡°Look at how much things have gotten better, and it¡¯s only been two days.¡± ¡°And none of that would be worth anything if you died,¡± Lucy said. She crossed her arms, set her shoulders, and glared. It was a long ride down to the lobby. *** Chapter Forty-Four - Kinda Cute Chapter Forty-Four - Kinda Cute ¡°Samurai, on account of being perfectly human, despite what some people would think, and how some media portray them, have as much need for companionship as anyone else. They can fall in love just as easily, and their sexual desires as just as keen as you would expect from a healthy human. That means that relationships between samurai and normal people occur. Statistically, these don¡¯t tend to last. The vast gulf of difference, not just in experience, but in responsibility, tends to erode away any bonds in a relationship. It is far more likely that samurai will have short-term flings, or that they will connect with another like-minded samurai, and form a strange, quasi-dependant relationship with them. That doesn¡¯t mean that there¡¯s no hope for those aiming to find love with a samurai. There have been some long-term relationships, marriages even, that have lasted for years between normal folk and samurai.¡± --Gold-Digger Weekly, issue 147, 2038 *** I actually managed to placate Lucy a bit by the time we reached the hotel lobby. She wasn¡¯t super happy yet, but she was no longer glaring at me for having risked my life. It was my life to risk, of course, but saying something like that to Lucy would just have pissed her off even more. As far as she was concerned, my ass was hers. I was a little annoyed too, but that was probably just... annoyance making more of itself, or whatever. Relationships were complicated. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I muttered. Lucy glanced my way. ¡°What was that?¡± she asked. I sighed. ¡°Lucy.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± she said before her shoulders slumped. ¡°Yeah, fine. Just... don¡¯t die, alright?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but grin a little. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can not to.¡± ¡°Do more,¡± she said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to take care of the kittens on my own.¡± ¡°Meh, you¡¯d manage.¡± She jabbed her elbow in my gut and I coughed. ¡°Hey!¡± I ignored anyone in the lobby looking our way. We probably both looked a bit like samurai, what with Lucy wearing my coat. I made a note to give her any other gear I ended up replacing too. Sure, it was second-hand, but it was the sort of second hand that most people only wished they could get, and for all that Lucy was worried about me dying, I had a few things keeping me alive, Lucy was operating on her 1.0 hardware. I¡¯d have to see about changing that up later. If I could get redundant mechanical organs shoved into me, so could Lucy. Blinking, I determined to word things more carefully in the future. We stepped out into the lot out front, where valets were helping clients out of their cars and taxis were stopping and going near-constantly. One moment, I¡¯m moving your vehicle closer. I brought an arm around Lucy¡¯s shoulder and pulled her into my side as we waited. It didn¡¯t take very long that a sleek black car pulled up before us. It wasn¡¯t a sport¡¯s car or anything, but it was really nice. I could imagine an executive being chauffeured around the city while doing... taxes, or whatever rich people did. ¡°Looks like that¡¯s our ride,¡± I said as I moved up to the back door and opened it up for Lucy. I even gestured her in with my new arm. She laughed and climbed into the back before I followed her in. The moment the door was closed the car started to move, and a chime sounded from somewhere. ¡°Welcome, honoured customer, to Charon Limo-Taxi. This is vehicle One-One-Seven serving the New Montreal region, and of course, serving you,¡± a smooth, feminine voice said. Lucy oooh¡¯d. ¡°Fancy. Do you know where we¡¯re going?¡± The chime sounded again. ¡°Your destination has been entered as the Rose Briar Museum. Warning; this location is within a yellow-incursion zone. The Charon Limo-Taxi cannot guarantee the safety of our honoured clients within that area.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± I said. I figured, from Lucy¡¯s profile, that she would enjoy this treatment a little more. A glance over at Lucy, who had found a screen to poke and prod at, proved that Myalis was essentially spot-on. I leaned to the side, shoulder pressing into Lucy¡¯s. I took off my helmet, figuring I wouldn¡¯t need it in the car of all places, and I allowed my new ears to twitch a little. They made combing my hair a real pain in the ass, not that I did much to care for my hair at the best of times. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The taxi wove into traffic, and seemed to insist on following every law in the book. Gomorrah would have gotten us there already. I was almost dozing off when I felt the car tip down and blinked awake. We were dropping towards the skyline, buildings rising up around us, many of them torn and shredded, others sporting car-sized holes in their sides, or with the corpses of antithesis creatures jammed into them. It was a surprisingly busy area, with hover-platforms slowly working their way up the buildings with orange-wearing indentured workers aboard. Clearing crews, I guess, searching out and disposing of any dead aliens. If they were around, that meant that most of the aliens were dead. The taxi turned and spun around the top of a rather familiar building. The knot in my stomach at seeing the museum was unexpected, but maybe it shouldn¡¯t have been. Lucy¡¯s fingers slipped through mine, and her grip tightened. We came down for a slow and gentle landing on one of the cleared landing zones on the roof. There was only one other car there, though judging from the streaks and boot prints covering the ground, there had been plenty of people around recently. It was, of course, raining, because it was always raining. Fortunately, it was the slow, weak sort of rain that was more annoying than anything. Just scattered drops, smacking the ground and the windshield with intermittent taps. The car shook a little on contact with the ground. ¡°Charon Limo-Taxi wishes you good luck in your business dealings. We shall be here, awaiting your return,¡± the taxi said. I opened the door and slipped out, then helped Lucy out. Reaching into my coat, I pulled out my gun, the new one that was meant to be stealthy. ¡°Here,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s called the Victorious. It fires smart rounds, so you don¡¯t need to aim too much.¡± ¡°Uh?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Just in case. There¡¯s a safety thing, uh, I think it¡¯ll connect to your augs. Myalis, can you do some tech wizardry?¡± Of course. ¡°Yeah, but why?¡± Lucy asked as she held onto the gun as if I¡¯d just handed her a sick puppy. ¡°In case you need to shoot something,¡± I said. I¡¯d have given her my Trench Maker, but it needed more aiming, and was a bit cumbersome besides. ¡°Just, shove it in your pocket and keep it around, okay? Hell... Myalis, I need a holster that¡¯ll fit on Lucy. And one of those, uh, what did you call it, that defence thing my jacket has?¡± A quantum projection system? I could provide something like that, yes. I nodded. ¡°And one of those stealth thingies. The ones that make you look like a plant or something.¡± That would make going after Lucy a bit harder. ¡°Cat?¡± I believe I can find all three prerequisites in one item. Would Lucy prefer a belt holster or a waist holster? I eyed Lucy up and down. ¡°Belt,¡± I decided. Taking off her jacket in the rain would just give her a cold. ¡°Catherine, what are you doing?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Keeping you alive,¡± I said. ¡°Probably should have thought about it before leaving the house.¡± New Purchase: Multi-Projection Security Belt (+Holster) Points reduced to... 6915 The box that I caught out of the air had a simple black belt within. I pretended not to see the cat-head shaped buckle as I gave it to Lucy. There was a holster to one side, and a blocky device on the other. ¡°Here, put this on.¡± ¡°Cat!¡± Lucy protested. ¡°Don¡¯t make me put it on you,¡± I said. ¡°That would involve taking your current belt off, and who knows what kind of fun that might lead to?¡± She jabbed a knuckle in my gut, then snapped the belt out of my hands. ¡°Fine,¡± she muttered. ¡°I¡¯m no hypocrite.¡± Once everything was buckled, and her old belt was tightened around one leg in a way that somehow managed to look good--because when you looked as good as Lucy, weird fashion shit just looked quirky, not weird--Lucy slapped her new gun into her holster and crossed her arms. I grinned at her and slid my helmet on. ¡°You know, you¡¯re kinda cute when you¡¯re all pout-y.¡± ¡°Kinda cute?¡± she asked. I pulled her to my side, and we started towards the steps leading to the front of the museum. Chapter Forty-Five - Realtoring Chapter Forty-Five - Realtoring ¡°The housing market was turning into an increasingly dangerous bubble in North America in the end of the 2010s. As it turns out, all that was needed to pop that was an alien invasion.¡± --Anonymous on the price of homes, 2022 *** I stayed by Lucy as we made our way down the side of the building and towards the museum¡¯s entrance. I idly noticed bullet holes here and there, and stains on the ground where antithesis had bled out. Signs left over from my fight here a few days ago? I supposed that the carrion antithesis had grabbed most of the bodies at some point, or a cleaning crew had come around already. I was a little worried that a stray gust would pick Lucy and fling her off the side. Which was silly, of course, but it didn¡¯t stop me from placing myself between her and the drop. If I was blown off the edge, I had options, she didn¡¯t, and she was still new to the whole, walking-without-crutches thing. We did make it to the bottom safely, though Lucy paused to catch her breath. ¡°You okay?¡± I asked. ¡°I need to do more cardio. And maybe eat a little bit less,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I can certainly think of a few ways to get your heart beating,¡± I said. She snorted. ¡°Not out here.¡± ¡°Hah! No, it¡¯s a bit chilly for that.¡± We found someone waiting for us at the front of the museum, a woman, maybe in her mid-thirties, and wearing a nice corporate-style long coat and shades. She had a suitcase by her side, and was staring off into the sky in the way someone looking at their media feeds did while bored. ¡°Hey!¡± I called out. The woman snapped out of it, looked to us, then put on a smile that I immediately pinged as fake. ¡°Hello,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re right on time.¡± ¡°Cool,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m Cat, this is Lucy.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Jessica Washington, from Washington, Smith and Associates. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡± She extended her hand, and I hesitated just a moment before shaking with my cybernetic arm. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°So, we were kinda interested in the place. You intend to give us a tour or something?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Jessica was all smiles. ¡°At Washington and Smith, we prize our clients above all else, but we¡¯re also very discerning about who we take on as a client, and to whom we will sell their property. We only want the best for the city, of course.¡± My eyes were practically glazing over at all the corporate talk. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. ¡°Point being?¡± ¡°Well, miss... Cat, your credit score isn¡¯t quite able to meet the demands of purchasing a floor in a building such as this one. You can imagine our concern for our client¡¯s well-being.¡± ¡°You, uh, do know that I¡¯m a samurai, right?¡± I asked. ¡°I thought that bit was, like, really obvious.¡± ¡°I¡¯m aware, yes,¡± Jessica said. ¡°But your status as one of humanity¡¯s protectors doesn¡¯t ensure that you will be capable of meeting payment requirements, and the potential losses of time and money for our client need to be accounted for when viewing any potential contracts and agreements.¡± My eyes narrowed. Then Lucy jumped in. ¡°What she¡¯s trying to say, I think, is that even if you¡¯re a totally cool samurai, you¡¯re still a newbie one, and they¡¯re not sure you can make all the big payments for a place like this. It is a lot of money. So she¡¯s trying to ease you into paying even more so that they don''t need to worry.¡± ¡°A guarantee, or a larger sum paid for the lot, would do a lot to reassure my clients,¡± Jessica said. ¡°That sounds like bullshit,¡± I said. Lucy shook her head. ¡°No no, it¡¯s cause you¡¯re thinking about it wrong. This lady here isn¡¯t working for us, she¡¯s working for her clients. The polite act¡¯s just an act.¡± Jessica¡¯s smile broke off, and she sighed. ¡°That¡¯s essentially correct. My clients heard that the person interested in purchasing the building was a samurai, and they insisted that we bring up the price as a consequence of that.¡± I pinched the bridge of my nose. ¡°That makes sense, I guess,¡± I said. Of course people would get greedy. It just made sense. ¡°What¡¯s the price now?¡± ¡°Three hundred and fifty million credits.¡± ¡°That¡¯s... it was at two-hundred ninety-eight million credits last night. That¡¯s one hell of a jump,¡± I said. ¡°They wanted to double it outright, but we convinced them not to. Doubling the cost would make it disproportionately more expensive than the value of the buildings around this area. It wouldn¡¯t make sense to buy this one at that price then.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°And three-fifty is reasonable?¡± I asked. Jessica tilted her head from side to side. ¡°It¡¯s not far from it. Were the building in perfect shape, without any recent incursions, then yes, it could go for that kind of price given enough time on the market and some interest.¡± ¡°But the place looks like shit now,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s why it¡¯s initial offer price was so low at just under three hundred million.¡± I scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s just silly. Did you guys talk to Longbow yet?¡± The woman blinked. ¡°The man on the cereal boxes?¡± ¡°The samurai, yeah,¡± I said. ¡°He had a gun-emplacement on the roof.¡± She nodded. ¡°That was a factor leading to the price being so high.¡± ¡°Yeah, but someone in the building sabotaged it,¡± I said. Jessica twitched. It was really minute, and I almost missed it, but there was definitely a flinch there. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yup. And the vaults in the back of the building are fake. Like, literally made of cardboard. Myalis, you got anything on that?¡± I asked. ¡°Myalis?¡± she asked. ¡°My AI,¡± I explained. I do indeed. If your goal is to intimidate the woman, then I¡¯d advise allowing me to enter the conversation. A low-cost drone would be more than enough. I nodded. ¡°That sounds great.¡± New Purchase: Light Communications Drone Points reduced to... 6910 A box appeared before me, and I snapped it out of the air, popped it open, and let the tiny drone within whizz out. It was no bigger than a closed fist, and looked about as durable as some of the third-hand toys we¡¯d played with at the orphanage. ¡°Greetings,¡± Myalis said. ¡°I¡¯m Vanguard Stray Cat¡¯s assistant, Myalis. She has asked for my assistance regarding some things.¡± ¡°A pleasure,¡± Jessica said. ¡°Should we step inside? If we¡¯re going to be negotiating, I¡¯d rather do it within the building. Privacy and all. Also, it¡¯s not as cold.¡± I looked to the side and noticed Lucy hugging herself for warmth, then nodded. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s a good idea.¡± The android that had been in the front entrance the first time we came was long gone, and the security doors had been torn right off their hinges. Still, the lobby was a bit warmer, and there were chairs along the sides next to posters of various samurai in action and some poorly disguised ads. ¡°So, did you intend to tell folks that the vault in this place is fake?¡± I asked. ¡°Technically, it meets all specifications to be considered a vault,¡± Jessica said. ¡°Are you shitting me?¡± Myalis¡¯ little drone slid closer. ¡°She is, technically, correct. The guidelines on what can and can¡¯t be considered a vault are lax, and the interpretation of ¡®a large room with minimal survival equipment¡¯ could be accepted as enough to consider the room in this building as a vault.¡± I shook my head. ¡°No way. I don¡¯t care what any law says, that vault isn¡¯t real. It¡¯s fake.¡± ¡°We could lower the price in consequence of--¡± ¡°And I haven¡¯t spoken to Longbow yet, but I¡¯m pretty sure he was still pissed about his AA system being fucked with. Pretty sure he¡¯s going to turn around and hit whomever owned the place for that particular fuck-up.¡± ¡°I... will inform my clients of that,¡± Jessica said. Lucy smiled. It was one of her terrifying smiles, the sort that was also a little hot. ¡°Go ahead. Of course, I¡¯m sure Cat could help cool Longbow down. In the end, they need to weigh how much they¡¯ll lose, versus how much they have to gain in trying to sell this place.¡± Jessica rolled her eyes. ¡°You two might think you¡¯re being clever, but I see what you¡¯re trying to do. Truth is, I¡¯m only getting a commission on this place, and it¡¯s not that great to begin with. Still, I need to make ends meet, so even if this place had been a baby skinning factory, we¡¯d still try to sell it at a price that was at least fair compared to the current market values. You can threaten and posture all you like, and you might even have the right of it, but unless you plan on just stealing the place, then we¡¯ll have to insist that you pay a fair price.¡± I stared at Jessica. The woman had brass balls. Though, to be fair, she was kinda right. Just cause the place had nearly been the death of me, didn¡¯t mean I could just take it. My temptation to be a bitch warred with my sense of what was fair for a bit, then I crossed my arms. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s talk prices then. Fair prices.¡± *** Chapter Forty-Six - Impeccable Mathematics

Chapter Forty-Six - Impeccable Mathematics

¡°You want to distract an entire forum of people for a few hours? Mention a samurai¡¯s weapons, then point out some random detail. Just be sure to be somewhat wrong about it. Hours of pleasure, guaranteed.¡± --Anonymous commentator, 2021 *** ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°So, two-ninety... whatever,¡± I said. Jessica nodded. ¡°Now, we need to factor in a couple of things,¡± I said. ¡°Whomever buys this place needs to renovate it. A whole lot. Not to mention cleaning the place up.¡± ¡°That¡¯s factored into the price,¡± she said. ¡°I doubt it,¡± I said. ¡°You know, I almost bled out over here? Hell, I used flesh eating nanite grenades in there.¡± The realtor blanched. ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°They¡¯re designed to melt flesh so that the antithesis can¡¯t use it anymore,¡± I said. ¡°The nanomachines don¡¯t last that long, don¡¯t worry, but you¡¯ll still need specialists to clean up.¡± ¡°I will make note of it,¡± Jessica said. ¡°Now, there are two other things you should tell your clients. One, they¡¯re on the hook for fucking up Longbow¡¯s gun. Two, Deus Ex had to come over here for stuff, and she¡¯s a vindictive little bitch. Like seriously, just yesterday, she gave a couple dozen people cancer because it was faster than poking at them herself.¡± Jessica nodded slowly. I leaned back, then hummed. ¡°How much can you bring the price down by?¡± I asked. I¡¯d done my share of negotiating for stuff before. I wasn¡¯t great at it, but I could manage in a pinch. Buying stuff from a street vendor wasn¡¯t quite the same as buying anything worth hundreds of millions, but I figured some of it would crossover. Jessica looked straight past me for a moment. ¡°We could, if we lower our expectations, and convince some of our clients to make a smaller profit, lower the price of the building all the way down to two hundred and seventy-five million.¡± I snorted. ¡°That¡¯s barely a discount.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a significant drop in price. My clients will barely make any profit at that rate.¡± I shuffled a little. ¡°I¡¯ll give you one hundred million,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s a solid no,¡± Jessica said. ¡°I can¡¯t drop the price by that much.¡± I gestured for her to wait. ¡°Calm down, I can spice it up a little,¡± I said before turning to Myalis. ¡°Hey, which one of my catalogues has the most valuable stuff? That is, if I were to sell it on an open market?¡± Myalis¡¯ little drone bobbed up and down. ¡°That depends, the market is somewhat fickle. Though I can generally make some predictions.¡± Notably, your Cyber Warfare tier one, Medical Utilities tier one, Stealth Technologies tier one and finally your Sunwatcher Technologies tier two catalogues all have the items that could sell for a good amount of credits. I nodded along. ¡°Yeah, I can imagine. Hey, Jessica, do any of your clients own any biotech firms? Or weapons... manufacturing... things? Hell, do any of them want to live longer?¡± Jessica perked up a little. ¡°Do you intend to trade blueprints for the building?¡± ¡°That... could be an option,¡± I said. I had seven thousand or so points, but I didn¡¯t want to spend them all here. If I valued the building at about two-hundred million, and only wanted to spend... say, five thousand of those points, then I¡¯d need to make sure each point was worth... I opened up a calculator app and plugged in the numbers with a few twitches of my eye. Forty-thousand credits per point. That was... a lot. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Myalis, can you put together a list of blueprints to sell? Assume that each point is worth... about fifty thousand credits, alright?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Myalis said. That would actually be significantly above the credit-per-point value usually used by Vanguards. I nodded. ¡°Send that over to Jessica here. Let¡¯s see if her clients will bite, yeah?¡± I opened a text app and started writing to Myalis. ¡®Maybe, but how many samurai have things available this way? There are a few hundred Vanguard that offer items on a per-point valuation system online. Usually at rates hovering around the twenty-five thousand credits per point rate. Some Vanguard will trade points between each other, usually for thirty to thirty-five thousand credits each. Your advantage here is that you¡¯re offering blueprints, which are somewhat rarer, and you have two catalogues that aren¡¯t offered by any of the other Vanguard selling things. Lucy stepped up. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s a good idea,¡± she said. ¡°Pardon?¡± Jessica asked. Lucy nodded, and I would have thought her serious if I didn¡¯t know her. ¡°Yeah. Selling to the realtor directly, or to your clients, I suppose, isn¡¯t as smart as just selling directly on the open market. Cat, you¡¯ve got some pretty exclusive stuff, right?¡± ¡°I think I¡¯m the only Samurai with the Sunwatcher tech tree,¡± I said. Myalis¡¯ decided to pipe in. ¡°I can confirm that.¡± I nodded along. ¡°Yeah, we could make more that way. I don¡¯t quite have the two-hundred and seventy-five mil on me right now, you know? That¡¯s a lot of change to carry around.¡± Jessica looked to the side, then back to us. ¡°Could you give me just one moment? I think I need to contact some of my clients. In the meantime, perhaps you can tour the building. It¡¯s in a state of disrepair, I¡¯m aware, but it shouldn¡¯t be so dangerous that you can¡¯t explore it. Um, unless those nanites... perhaps not?¡± ¡°Oh, if they start eating Lucy I¡¯ll do something about it,¡± I said. ¡°And I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m resistant to that kind of thing.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Jessica bowed to us, then moved over to the door. She didn¡¯t talk aloud, but from the way she was twitching and moving her head, she was using her augs to their fullest. I nodded over past the entrance, and Lucy followed me over. The museum¡¯s main floor looked like crap. Some of the displays had been moved, but most of them were just plain abandoned. The huge hole in the ceiling above, still with a big lump of antithesis meat stuff jammed against it, didn¡¯t look stellar. ¡°Bit creepy,¡± Lucy said as she looked over the floor. I had to agree. It had a very... carnival-after-dark look to it. ¡°You need to look past all the junk and stuff,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of room here.¡± Lucy nodded, then looked over her shoulder. ¡°Think she¡¯ll take your bait?¡± she asked. Myalis hovered over. ¡°Some of her clients were actually listening in and communicating with each other. There was something of a bidding war behind the scenes. Some wished to get rid of their shares of the building the moment you came in, others wished to purchase those.¡± ¡°Really?¡± I asked. ¡°Bit weird, no?¡± ¡°I suspect that it¡¯s more a matter of potential risk. As it is, the share price has skyrocketed. I could influence it downwards, but such an obvious manipulation would be noticed.¡± ¡°So, the value of the building just went up?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s the opposite of what I want.¡± ¡°The value of anything is entirely based on a person¡¯s willingness to pay for it. In this case, the owners of this building seem entirely willing to write off the monetary value of the building if it means obtaining something that is, to them, more valuable still.¡± ¡°She¡¯s saying that the big-wigs want a go at your shiny shiny alien tech,¡± Lucy said. ¡°And it¡¯s worth more than this drafty old place.¡± That made sense, I supposed. Buildings were plentiful, exclusive blueprints to alien tech weren''t. ¡°So, think we can get a better deal out of it?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh yeah,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Just pretend that you¡¯ll borrow the money from someone else, then when Jessica back there panics, say that you¡¯ll be willing to trade the place for, like, peanuts.¡± Myalis wavered from side to side a little. ¡°As much as I would find that amusing, some of the clients on the line aren¡¯t entirely clueless about the value of what¡¯s being offered. They¡¯re the ones trying to hold the price steady where it is. Others are driving it up, likely in hopes of selling their shares soon, and still others are selling now while they can. It¡¯s an interesting little scenario.¡± ¡°Awesome,¡± I said. It was starting to dawn on me that maybe I¡¯d be the proud owner of... a place that needed some really extensive renovations. ¡°What am I getting myself into?¡± I asked. ¡°The usual amount of trouble,¡± Myalis said. Lucy giggled. ¡°Usual means that there¡¯s also an unusual amount somewhere.¡± ¡°I have a tier list,¡± Myalis replied. Lucy pulled me in for a hug, and I easily reciprocated. ¡°You alright?¡± she asked. I nodded. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s just a lot, you know? But... hey, we might have a place all to our own soon. A really expensive one.¡± ¡°It¡¯s kinda cool,¡± she said. ¡°The kittens will love it.¡± ¡°It¡¯s kinda stressful,¡± I replied. ¡°And yeah, they will, which isn¡¯t an endorsement of anything, I¡¯ve seen the kinds of things they love.¡± A cough from behind me had me turning. Jessica stood there, somewhat awkward. ¡°Miss Stray Cat, I think we¡¯re ready to continue our negotiations.¡± *** Chapter Forty-Seven - Closing a Deal Chapter Forty-Seven - Closing a Deal ¡°Interior of home-like space. Ruins in the back. Sections on fire. Sheets and furniture from Le Tres Beau¡¯s Autumn collection are scattered on the ground. EAST BLADE bursts into the room and looks around. His suit is dirty, his gun is smoking. EAST BLADE Rose? Where are you my sweet Rose? Camera pans to side, revealing ROSE¡¯s legs. Bare. She is partially buried in some rubble. EAST BLADE Rose! Oh no, Rose! ROSE coughs. She is hurt. ROSE East? Is that you my blade? What happened? I was enjoying a cool, refreshing Neocola when everything exploded! EAST BLADE rushes to assist Rose. Highlight can on ground. EAST BLADE Don¡¯t worry my love, I¡¯m here for you!¡± --Excerpt from Screenplay of Katanation Street, Season 30, Episode 4357, aired Jan 2052 *** I really shouldn¡¯t have been enjoying myself at someone else¡¯s expense so much. It felt... wrong. Mean, at the very least. Like stealing candy from a kid. Now that I thought about it, I was pretty sure I¡¯d stolen candy from kids before. Jessica was sweating. I wasn¡¯t that keen on reading people, but even I could tell that she was stressing out to the max. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and she kept chewing at her bottom lip. ¡°That price isn¡¯t entirely reasonable,¡± she said. I shrugged a shoulder. ¡°We could buy some other building. I¡¯m fond of this one for... reasons, but there are others. Right Myalis?¡± Myalis¡¯ drone wobbled. ¡°Within the next twenty blocks, there are seventeen more areas for sale with a similar footprint, two of which are on the top floors of their respective buildings.¡± ¡°See,¡± I said. ¡°Not too sure how much those are going for, but it¡¯s a buyer¡¯s market, right?¡± I had no idea what a ¡®buyer¡¯s market¡¯ actually was, but it sounded right. Jessica nodded. ¡°That¡¯s true. Would you consider keeping the price at four thousand points?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a lot,¡± I said. ¡°Half a day¡¯s worth of fighting aliens, easy. Three thousand is a lot more reasonable.¡± Jessica fidgeted. ¡°I think my clients would appreciate a higher price than that.¡± I nodded. ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡± As we spoke, Myalis was helping me keep track of the building¡¯s value, the graphs, which I could only just barely understand, filling the edges of my vision. The building¡¯s top floor was now hovering just under one billion dollars in value, with three big companies holding the majority of the shares for it, and a few dozen stragglers hovering by the edges. Of course, that wasn¡¯t the actual value of the floor. That was the very much inflated value that some idiots had placed on it. As far as I could figure out, Jessica¡¯s company was basically splitting however many points I sold the floor for evenly amongst those who owned shares when I eventually sold the floor. The things fluctuating so much were parts of the ownership of the floor. Which was a bit weird. You either owned it or not, I figured, but maybe there was some accounting bullshittery going on that I wasn¡¯t aware of. Point was, if they closed the deal with me, then a bunch of corps would get some exclusive blueprints and such. If they didn¡¯t, then... actually, I wasn¡¯t sure what would happen if they didn¡¯t, that wasn¡¯t my area, and I didn¡¯t care all that much. ¡°Let¡¯s meet in the middle,¡± I said. Jessica perked up at that. ¡°But, but, I¡¯ll be looking over the crap you guys want with those points, if I see anything too skeevy I¡¯m vetoing it, alright?¡± Jessica nodded along. ¡°That sounds very fair. Let me just confirm with my clients, and I¡¯ll be back.¡± I waved her off, then backed up a bit before slumping. Fortunately, I had a Lucy to slump onto. She was the perfect height for that. ¡°Tired?¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s not even two yet, and I already want to go back to bed,¡± I muttered. ¡°You¡¯re such a baby,¡± she whispered. ¡°You know, all those fancy sorts are probably watching you right now? What¡¯ll they think?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± I said. Lucy giggled and pulled me into a hug. ¡°Here, this¡¯ll help.¡± Part of me wanted to protest, but I¡¯d be damned if it didn¡¯t help a little. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said before plating a kiss on her head. ¡°So, what do you think we should do with this place?¡± ¡°Clear some space to have lunch, maybe?¡± she asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know if anyone would deliver all the way over here. I mean, with the incursion clean-up. Maybe we can pick something on the way back? The kittens would like that.¡± The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°We have really good food in the apartment.¡± ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s not fast food,¡± I said. ¡°Filet mignon is good and all, but burgers.¡± ¡°That¡¯s your entire argument? Just ¡®burgers?¡¯¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s a winning argument,¡± I said. ¡°Jessica looks like she¡¯s ready.¡± Lucy let go of me, and I walked over to Jessica with an easy smile on. She was smiling too. It made her look a whole lot less severe. ¡°My clients are ready to accept your proposal. In exchange for three-thousand five hundred points worth of equipment and blueprints, rounded in your favour, we at Washington, Smith and Associates are happy to close the sale of the top floor of this building.¡± ¡°So... this is mine?¡± I asked with a wave to the room around us. ¡°As soon as everything is signed. We have a notary expediting everything as we speak. The full contract will be sent to you for verification.¡± ¡°Ah, right, Myalis can do legalese, right?¡± ¡°I can manage,¡± Myalis said. ¡°Cool, once that¡¯s all done, I guess you can arrange for pick-up of all the stuff your clients want to buy?¡± Jessica nodded. ¡°Perhaps when we sign the final contract? At the rate things are moving, that might be tomorrow. Although I don¡¯t want to put any pressure on you.¡± ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s fine,¡± I said. So I didn¡¯t own the place yet. Just... mostly did. I extended a hand to Jessica, my meatier one, and she jumped before shaking it. ¡°Thanks Jess, this was almost fun.¡± ¡°Ah, well, thank you, miss Stray Cat. I don¡¯t get to do business with samurai often. If you¡¯re ever on the market for a new home, or a new building, do remember to call us!¡± Jessica looked quite pleased with herself as she sauntered off. I waved at her back, then turned back around. ¡°Weird one,¡± I said. ¡°Wonder what¡¯s got her so happy?¡± ¡°The deal she just struck might not have been worth as much as the building was in sheer monetary value, and in so doing, her company might have lost some potential revenue, but I suspect that the clout of having bargained and, ostensibly, won, with a Vanguard will improve her company¡¯s reputation.¡± Usually, when people dealt with me they had pretty crappy reputations, and they didn¡¯t get better just from associating with me. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Got that list of things drawn up?¡± ¡°I do. To be clear, there are some items that would best be kept in the hands of a Vanguard and not spread to the public at large. Those were removed from consideration. I also drastically reduced the number of weapons available.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± I said. ¡°What kind of stuff isn¡¯t for normal folk?¡± ¡°A lot of software and many of the components of your Cyberwarfare catalogue. Non-regulated AIs are something of a nuisance. Some items from your Stealth catalogue as well.¡± That sounded reasonable. I moved over to Lucy, then pointed to the main room. ¡°Wanna explore our new place?¡± I asked. Lucy grinned. ¡°I¡¯d love to!¡± she said. ¡°Oh, are you going to princess carry me through the threshold?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the right tradition for this occasion,¡± I said. ¡°So what, we smash a bottle of champagne against the side?¡± I barked a laugh. ¡°Only if you plan on turning the place into a ship.¡± ¡°Hmm, nah. One of the kittens would fall off the side. Oh, we¡¯ll need guard-rails.¡± Lucy and I took maybe an hour to explore the whole floor. There was that big museum room, shaped like a stubby L that took up all of one side of the building. The rest of the floor had a few dozen rooms. One was a storage area, another a place for staff that linked up to the lobby. There were a pair of doubled washrooms, and that one little nook where we¡¯d stopped a few days ago to debug my aug-gear. The corridor that had the shelter at the end was lined with offices on both sides, some of them still filled with officey junk. ¡°The main floor can be turned into some sort of opened space,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe a mega playroom?¡± ¡°That sounds like a bit much,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Eh, we can chop part of it off, turn that into a kitchen or something.¡± She nodded. ¡°Alright. And the offices can be turned into bedrooms. They¡¯re about the right size for one-person rooms.¡± ¡°Not enough of them for all the kittens,¡± I said. ¡°Some of the bigger rooms could be filled with a few bunks. Like we had back at the orphanage, but less... you know, moldy.¡± It was dawning on me just how much work we¡¯d just bought for ourselves. Still, it sounded like fun. *** Chapter Forty-Eight - A Date Chapter Forty-Eight - A Date ¡°Pick your Battles.¡± --Bloodsuck 2027 *** I wanted to do something nice for Lucy. Not for any reason in particular, it was always... I¡¯d had a dream once, while scrolling through my media feeds and looking at videos of some celebrities living the high life. People with a lot of money and a lot of fame, just doing things and probably not realizing that there were people like me, so, so far below them wishing they were in their shoes. It was a stupid sort of day-dream at the time. A ¡®what if I could go to that kind of place?¡¯ or ¡®what if I pulled up somewhere in that kind of supercar?¡¯ Idle fantasies to forget that life was shit, if just for a moment. Life wasn¡¯t so shit anymore though. ¡°Ready to go home?¡± I asked Lucy. She turned, coat swirling around her, and for a moment clinging to her sides and hips in a way that made my heart skip. ¡°Aren¡¯t we home here?¡± she asked with the kind of dimply smile she always had when she was being cheesy. I looked past her and to the museum, our home. ¡°Yeah, but not yet,¡± I said. I wouldn¡¯t say something like ¡®wherever you are is home.¡¯ She¡¯d poke me and call me sappy. ¡°Alright. Do you know if the kittens are alright?¡± I blinked a few times, navigating through the menus in my augs until I found the status screens for my new cat-mecha. They were all green, and the preview windows that showed me what the robots were seeing revealed glimpses of the kittens in the penthouse, playing games and being lazy little shits. ¡°They¡¯re fine,¡± I said. ¡°C¡¯mon, food!¡± ¡°Food!¡± Lucy agreed with a cheer. She brought her arms up and made a familiar grabby gesture. With a roll of my eyes I turned around and didn¡¯t protest when she jumped onto my back. ¡°You¡¯re not twelve anymore, you know,¡± I said as I grabbed her under the knees and pulled her up. ¡°I refuse to believe that,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I am eternally youthful and adorable.¡± I laughed as I carried her out the front of the museum. Our ride, the Charon Limo-Taxi, was still waiting for us on the roof. It was a bit of a pain getting up there with Lucy weighing me down, especially since she kept complaining about my back-mounted guns digging into her stomach. Not that that was enough to get her to let go, of course. ¡°Alright, now get off,¡± I said as I stopped next to the taxi. ¡°Not gonna tuck me in?¡± she asked as she leaned her chin onto my head. ¡°Nope, but I might drop your skinny ass.¡± She mock-gasped. ¡°My ass isn¡¯t skinny, it¡¯s perfect and plump and all that is right in the world.¡± We got in the back seat, and I gestured for Lucy to give me a minute. ¡°Just need to check something real fast,¡± I said. ¡°Here, play with Myalis.¡± I placed Myalis¡¯ little drone on Lucy¡¯s lap. ¡°Are you using super-advanced alien technology to distract me?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Yes,¡± I said. I flicked through my augs and found a text box to write in. ¡°M. I want to bring Lucy somewhere nice.¡± I see. What sort of place are you thinking? Glancing at Lucy from the corner of my eye, I held back a smile. ¡°Someplace with good food,¡± I wrote. ¡°Something fancy.¡± Understood. There are a few reservation-only places in the region, all within half an hour¡¯s driving distance from your current location. Cross-referencing reviews, and dismissing those that were paid-for or solicited, then eliminating places with menus that wouldn¡¯t agree with either of you leaves you with four options. Might I suggest La Maison des Rois? I nodded. ¡°Sounds good,¡± I said aloud. ¡°Okay, we¡¯re heading out now. What do you want to grab for the kittens?¡± ¡°Oh, we should go to one of those nice places, the ones that give you a little toy with your meal. You know, Choking Hazard or something?¡± I nodded. That was a favourite of some of the kittens, though mostly for the ads. We couldn¡¯t exactly afford that kind of food ourselves. ¡°Sounds good,¡± I said. Leaning back, I listened to Lucy prattle on about this and that while the taxi took off and led us out of the incursion-zone and back into the flows of traffic around New Montreal. We climbed higher and higher, into the nicer, faster lanes usually reserved for people a dozen tax brackets above normal folk. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. We started arguing over how to decorate the house. I was almost more keen on low-tech, old school decor. Nice and square and simple, but Lucy liked things curvier. If I let her have it her way, the place would be colourful and bubbly. It would still look great, because Lucy had an eye for that kind of thing, but it was really not my style. ¡°What if we invite some samurai over?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯ll look like a kid¡¯s place.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll look awesome,¡± Lucy corrected. ¡°And so what if they think it looks a bit immature. It¡¯ll basically be an orphanage.¡± ¡°Well, yeah, but those aren¡¯t cool.¡± Lucy snorted. ¡°Your idea of cool is graffiti on the walls and, like, a decorative dumpster in the corner.¡± ¡°That would be kinda cool, in a sort of, ironically tasteless way.¡± ¡°You just know some of the kittens would put actual trash in it,¡± she said. I crossed my arms. ¡°Grunge is a perfectly acceptable style.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a style, it¡¯s what happens when you can¡¯t afford anything nice, but still look good under all the clothes,¡± she said. ¡°You saying I look good under all the clothes?¡± I asked. She nodded. ¡°I¡¯m only with you because of your looks,¡± she said without an ounce of sarcasm. The taxi slowed to a stop behind a really fancy car, some fire-red Italian thing that looked fast while standing still. Lucy started to look around, but by the time she knew to start searching for clues we were pulling down and onto the pavement on a covered driveway built into the side of a skyscraper. It was near the top-most floor too, one of the bigger ones. The restaurant looked like it took up most of the floor, which was something I¡¯d come to appreciate the cost of a little more in the past few hours. ¡°Um?¡± Lucy asked. I grinned. ¡°I thought we could grab a bite, you know, before grabbing burgers for the kittens.¡± Lucy looked out the windows. Some men in nice suits and women that had to be models were waiting in a line to enter, a serious looking man at the door checking them off on a floating tablet. ¡°This place looks a bit extra.¡± My grin wavered a little. ¡°You¡¯d rather go somewhere else?¡± I asked. Lucy hesitated, eyed me, then smiled back. ¡°Nah, this is fine. Wish I¡¯d come dressed for the occasion. ¡°You look fine,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re biased.¡± I jumped out of the car and ran around the back to open the door for Lucy and to give her a hand out. She giggled at the gesture and stretched. Our little taxi was fancy, but it was out-fancied by all the rides parked around the multi-level parking machines on the other side of the driveway. It was one of those with glass sides so that people could gawk at everyone¡¯s hundred-million credit supercars. I entwined my fingers with Lucy¡¯s, and we skipped up the steps to the front. ¡°Do we have a reservation, Myalis?¡± I asked. Of course. ¡°Cool!¡± I said as I walked past all the fancy sorts and up to the waiter-guy at the front. ¡°Yo!¡± I said. ¡°Reservation for Stray Cat and Lucy,¡± I said. The man paused in the act of talking to someone important looking. ¡°Um, the line is right there, ma¡¯am,¡± he said. The dude in front of him, some chubby guy in a suit with a New Montreal pin on his lapel glared at me. ¡°Rather rude,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve been called worse,¡± I said. ¡°So, we got seats?¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am, you¡¯re supposed to wait in line,¡± the waiter said. ¡°I don¡¯t do great with lines,¡± I explained. The man nodded. ¡°I understand. La Maison des Roi can be a very exciting place. Nonetheless, regardless of status, we ask that all of our guests have the common courtesy to wait their turn. Please.¡± I pouted and Lucy giggled, but the guy was right. So I went to the back of the line and pretended not to notice some folk smiling at the bit of drama. ¡°You¡¯re an idiot,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I thought we could cut in,¡± I said. ¡°This isn¡¯t some cinema,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s a proper fancy place.¡± ¡°Yeah yeah, laugh it up. We¡¯ll see if you think it¡¯s all that when you can¡¯t read the menu on account of its fanciness.¡± Chapter Forty-Nine - Being Hella Fancy Chapter Forty-Nine - Being Hella Fancy ¡°Friendship is what we do here at Broccoli¡¯s. You want naughty dragons? You want cures for your hysteria? Marital aids? We don¡¯t know why our new friends want that kind of stuff so bad, but we have it for them! Our inexpert staff will try their very best to help you have the most fun you can possibly have! All while staying nice and safe. Don¡¯t forget to use your friend''s rebate!¡± Ad for Broccoli¡¯s, an exotic toy store, 2025 *** I¡¯d eaten at restaurants before. Who hadn¡¯t? The problem was, most of the time... all of the time, those restaurants were cheap little places, with shitty plastic benches angled so that no one would sit on them too long, and 100-credit menus filled with near-foods that somehow managed to taste as real as they were, but were also really addicting. Those places weren''t this one. Hell, I couldn¡¯t even pronounce this place¡¯s name without sounding like I was pretending to be fancy. ¡°This way,¡± the waiter said as he led us through the main floor. There were tables here and there, each with a bit of space around them, and walls on three sides with opaque glass and what was probably real wood as trim. There were plenty of people, which might have explained the line out front. This place had enough room for twice as many tables if they were willing to squish people in a little, but no, everyone had a nice chair and like, a candle. I felt entirely out of place. Lucy bumped her shoulder against mine, and I looked over to see her smiling coyly at me. She knew, of course. ¡°Right over here misses, watch the step,¡± the waiter said as he brought us up a little platform and to a round table with two seats, one on either end. It was small, not too small, but enough that we would almost be bumping knees. I swallowed and jumped ahead to pull out a chair for Lucy. She went to the other side and pulled out her own chair. I saw the waiter¡¯s lips twitch as I tried to save face and plop myself down across from Lucy. ¡°Your menus are here,¡± he said as he placed two booklets down. Physical menus? Weird, but alright. ¡°If you are curious about anything at all, do ask. Ring the bell and I shall be with you within moments.¡± ¡°Right, thanks,¡± I said as I kinda gestured aimlessly in his direction. He bowed again and stepped away, disappearing around the corner a moment later. There¡¯s a privacy field around your booth. Low level electromagnetic interference. Not enough to stop any really advanced listening devices, but a nice touch. I almost jumped at Myalis¡¯ intrusion. I sent her a quick text, just in case she couldn¡¯t read the mood, which, as smart as she claimed to be, I didn¡¯t doubt that Myalis was able to miss some signs. ¡°This is a date, M. Don¡¯t do M things.¡± Well, I suppose I can remain quiet and merely observe your fumbling. Do enjoy. I tried not to let my frustration show as I grabbed one of the menus and opened it up. It was bound in leather, with the restaurant¡¯s name stamped onto the front. Each page was some sort of thick, soft material and it looked as if the items were written by hand. But by someone who knew how to write really well. ¡°This is hella fancy,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I know, right?¡± I asked. ¡°Is this how rich people eat all the time?¡± I glanced at the first item. The page was for... avent-gouts, whatever those were. The first thing on the list, which was in alphabetical order, was Anemone of the Sea, for the low low price of twelve-thousand credits. ¡°You could rent an apartment for a week at that price,¡± I muttered. ¡°Are you looking at the, uh, first page things?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯d be a really crap apartment.¡± She was right, but still. ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯ll last longer than however long it takes to eat this,¡± I said. Lucy laughed. ¡°You¡¯re the one that wanted to come here,¡± she said. I looked away. ¡°Well, yeah, I guess.¡± Her leg poked mine. ¡°You okay?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s just, I don¡¯t really know what to say?¡± Lucy stared for a long moment, then she started to laugh. Big guffaws interspersed with little snorts, and I was pretty sure her legs were thumping the floor below. ¡°Oh, Cat! You¡¯re cute.¡± ¡°What?¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Lucy just shook her head and reached across the table. Her fingers wiggled until I gave in and entwined my hand in hers. It was a good thing I had a second hand now, I could still hold onto the menu. ¡°So, once we¡¯re settled in, what do you want to do?¡± ¡°Uh, I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°Samurai stuff, I guess.¡± ¡°That makes sense, yeah. I think... I want to go to school,¡± she said. ¡°Like, not an online one, but an actual school.¡± ¡°Really? That¡¯s...¡± I cut myself off before saying ¡®weird.¡¯ ¡°Not something I expected.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a bit weird, right?¡± she asked. ¡°Ohh, they have this plate that¡¯s nothing but teeny tiny burgers.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Why do you wanna go to school? I mean, what kind of classes do you want to take?¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s partly me just wanting to see what that¡¯s like, but I wouldn¡¯t mind taking classes to become a teacher. Or a caretaker. Do you need a degree for that?¡± I shrugged. ¡°Probably,¡± I said. ¡°We could figure something out. The museum is in the middle of the city, kinda, I bet there are a bunch of schools nearby.¡± Lucy smiled and pulled up her menu. ¡°So, what are you having?¡± she asked. ¡°Uh.¡± I looked down, and my eyes glazed over at all the weird words. They had too many accents and marks on them to be real words. ¡°I have no idea,¡± I admitted. Lucy laughed and squeezed my hand a bit. ¡°Maybe ask for whatever¡¯s most popular? It can¡¯t be that bad if they¡¯re serving it here, I figure.¡± ¡°I wonder if the spoons are made of actual silver?¡± ¡°Should we steal them?¡± Lucy asked. I nodded. Definitely. A glance around, at all the woodwork and the marble statues and... if my four ears weren¡¯t mistaken, what was an actual pond near the side of the room, had me feeling as if I¡¯d just snuck into some forbidden place. But Lucy was there, so it wasn¡¯t all bad. ¡°Do you think people would be scandalized if we started making out?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Uh,¡± I said. Then the waiter returned with a well-timed clam jam. ¡°Hello ladies, have you chosen?¡± Lucy nodded and pulled her hand back so that she could hold up the menu and point at things on it. ¡°I¡¯ll have one of these. And I don¡¯t know what this is, but it sounds good. Also, do you have caviar? Does it actually taste good?¡± ¡°I can assure you that ours is only the highest quality that can be obtained, and it is prepared by only the finest chefs,¡± the waiter said. ¡°Awesome. Can we wait until after to order more?¡± she asked. ¡°I want to be rolled out of here.¡± ¡°Certainly,¡± he said with a bow. ¡°And for you, miss?¡± he asked me. A glance at the menu didn¡¯t help any. I hadn¡¯t exactly been focused on reading. ¡°Do you have some sort of... meal thing? Like, it¡¯s set up already?¡± ¡°We do. Might I suggest the international meats platter? It has seven varieties of meat from all of the best farms around the world, prepared in seven distinct, local fashions. It¡¯s a little heavy but quite popular.¡± ¡°That sounds perfect,¡± I said. Lucy and I handed him our menus, then ordered some drinks. Really, it was just water. It didn¡¯t feel right to order energy drinks to go with the caviar. ¡°So,¡± Lucy said once the waiter was gone. ¡°Why this?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked. She gestured around at the fanciness around out. ¡°I don¡¯t mind it, it¡¯s kinda cute, but why?¡± I shifted a little. ¡°It¡¯s going to sound stupid,¡± I said. ¡°Mmhmm,¡± she agreed. ¡°But I wanna hear it.¡± I tried to be angry, failed, then rolled my eyes. ¡°I wanted to treat you to something nice. You know, like... we never actually went on a date.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve been on plenty.¡± ¡°Going to the corner store together, or stealing from an automated burger joint don¡¯t count as dates,¡± I said. ¡°Sure they do!¡± Lucy said. ¡°They were the best dates.¡± ¡°Maybe, but I wanted to bring you to a place like this,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s uh...¡± I looked for something to do with my hands while fighting the creeping warmth of a blush. Lucy giggled and placed her hand on the table again for me to grab. ¡°You¡¯re such a softy.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I said. ¡°You are.¡± ¡°Bitch, I kill things,¡± I said in mock indignation. Lucy laughed at me. I was saved, quite fortunately, by the arrival of the first course and our drinks. I had the impression that Lucy wasn¡¯t done teasing me, but at least for the moment there was good food to keep her busy. Chapter Fifty - Salad Chapter Fifty - Salad ¡°It¡¯s not just fine dining that changed with the arrival of the Antithesis. The first incursions popularized the purchase of long-lasting non-perishables, for good reason, but that had little impact on the world-wide market for food. The biggest change appeared in 2023, during the central-Brazilian incursion. An incursion with few civilian dead, but one that landed quite close to some of the country¡¯s largest agricultural areas. Nearly one-hundred million heads of cattle perished during, or shortly after, the incursion, and with fears about possible biological weapons around incursion zones, the world-wide market for beef took a large downturn. Shortly thereafter, large food conglomerates switched to using synthetic meats in full, something that had only been experimented with before that.¡° --Except from You Aren¡¯t What You Eat, 2032 *** Lucy ate her salad while making these little noises that were--quite frankly--making me a bit jealous. I¡¯d never heard her sounding so... pleased before. Ever. Was I being outdone by a salad? ¡°This is so fucking good,¡± she said, mouth still full. ¡°How¡¯s your thing?¡± I looked down at my plate and at the seven circles spread out across it. Each one had a little piece of meat, with some sauce expertly drizzled on it, and a little side of vegetables or greens or... stuff. I¡¯d eaten one of them so far, a sort of slab of pork that was so soft that it came apart as soon as my fork (which was in fact silver) touched it. The other six were all different, but for the most part each was pretty small. ¡°It¡¯s good so far,¡± I said as I turned the large plate a little bit. ¡°This isn¡¯t even the main course and I¡¯m loving it,¡± Lucy said. ¡°It was a good idea to come here. Cat, you need to find out if this place would sponsor you so that we can eat this every day.¡± I snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t know, it sounds like a bit of work. Won¡¯t the fun wear off?¡± ¡°Sex is a lot of work, but it¡¯s never worn off, I can¡¯t see how this is any different,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Should I be worried?¡± I asked. ¡°You and that salad...¡± Lucy nodded. ¡°You should be. If this salad had an ass as nice as yours... well, sometimes a girl has to make difficult choices in life.¡± I was being outdone by a salad. That was effeminating. I jabbed at some sort of brown meat. There was no way to know what it was, but it was juicy and soft and tasted stupidly good. ¡°Mmm,¡± I started to say before I swiped the back of my hand across my mouth. ¡°So, you think I should do the sponsor thing?¡± Lucy tilted her head as she considered it. ¡°I guess? Isn¡¯t that what samurai do?¡± ¡°I mean, some of them have to be sponsor-less,¡± I said. She shrugged. ¡°I guess. Just figured that¡¯s the way you¡¯d go. It¡¯s basically free money, right?¡± ¡°Yeah. Don¡¯t know who I¡¯d accept as a sponsor though. I wouldn¡¯t just slap on anyone¡¯s logo.¡± ¡°Can you imagine doing a commercial for like, Pear headphones, and then the week after you learn that they¡¯re using child labour again,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Oh, which company was it that had concentration camps with like, minorities working in factories?¡± ¡°There¡¯s like, six,¡± I said. ¡°Urgh,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Right, so you don¡¯t want to work for one of those. Probably get Myalis to look into whatever corp you end up working with.¡± I grimaced. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t want my face on a cereal box. Or like, someone¡¯s underwear or something. It¡¯s too cringey.¡± Lucy giggled. ¡°I love you Cat, but I wouldn¡¯t wear you-themed panties, no matter how much you paid me.¡± ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe like... uh, I hate myself for thinking this.¡± ¡°Ohh,¡± Lucy cooed. She leaned forwards. ¡°Tell me, tell me!¡± I rubbed at my brow. ¡°I could be sponsored by one of those companies that do animal products.¡± It took a moment for Lucy to catch on. ¡°Oh, like a cat food company?¡± ¡°Not cat food! Shit, that¡¯s worse than having your face on cereal.¡± Lucy grinned. ¡°Give your kitty some Cat, the best tasting pussy food around.¡± I flung a napkin at her and she laughed. ¡°You¡¯re awful,¡± I said. ¡°That wasn¡¯t even a double-entendre. It was like... a single-entendre.¡± This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°It¡¯s the salad.¡± Lucy took another bite. ¡°It¡¯s making me feel things I¡¯ve never felt before.¡± I laughed and picked up a knife to cut into some sort of fish-looking thing. "Do fish count as a meat?¡± ¡°If plants can count as meat, why not?¡± Lucy asked. She finished a bit before me, then stole a few veggies from my plate until I finished. The moment I was done, the waiter returned and took our plates away and brought us fresh water. Then he returned with dessert. ¡°Ohh,¡± Lucy said as she looked down upon a thick wedge of cake that wouldn¡¯t be surviving the next few minutes. I laughed and picked away at my own dessert, some pie that sounded fancy and that tasted pretty good. ¡°So, uh,¡± I hesitated a bit. What could we talk about? I didn¡¯t want to go into anything heavy, not if it meant ruining the moment. ¡°Did you ever want to try like, new hobbies or something?¡± I asked. ¡°New hobbies? Like what, knitting?¡± ¡°No, no, like... I don¡¯t know. What do rich people do for fun?¡± I asked. ¡°Golf?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Eat really good salads? Hire whores? Mock the poor and downtrodden?¡± I laughed. ¡°Okay, so not that. I don¡¯t know, but right now we don¡¯t need to focus so much on... you know, surviving. We can do other things for fun.¡± ¡°I do want to buy a tennis outfit,¡± Lucy said. ¡°You want to try tennis?¡± I asked. That didn¡¯t sound very Lucy-like. ¡°Hey, I¡¯ve got bouncy legs now. Also, you get to wear those really short skirts.¡± Her eyebrows wiggled at me. ¡°And then you get all sweaty.¡± I swallowed a bite of my pie. ¡°Yeah, uh, I¡¯m sure we can find something. I think I might get into shooting.¡± ¡°Shooting? Like trying to hit things with bullets?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Don¡¯t you already do that? You know, Samurai and all?¡± ¡°Yeah, my aim is... bad. Awful bad. Myalis keeps mocking me about it. But so far I¡¯ve been pretty much pulling the trigger and hoping for the best most of the time. I¡¯d like to actually learn how to aim.¡± ¡°Wow,¡± Lucy said. ¡°That¡¯s terrifying.¡± She smiled. ¡°You¡¯re so incompetent.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± I said. We finished our desserts, then slumped back. The meals hadn¡¯t been too big, but they were enough that I was feeling full. Lucy kicked her feet up under the table and managed to only-just place them on my lap. I felt like I could almost fall asleep. There was a faint bit of music playing in the background, nothing too exciting, but a nice lilting song on some string instrument that was accompanied by the clink of glass and utensils. I twitched my new ears and fiddled with their controls. Soon, that music was accompanied by the steady drumbeat of Lucy¡¯s heart. ¡°Do the ladies require anything?¡± the waiter asked. I jumped a bit, having entirely failed to notice him. ¡°Oh? Uh, no, I¡¯m good,¡± I said. Lucy pulled her feet back and sat up straighter. ¡°Me too,¡± she said. ¡°We should probably head out soon.¡± I reluctantly agreed. The waiter nodded. ¡°In that case, here is the cheque.¡± He placed a piece of paper on the table, then bowed and left. I pulled it over, and winced at the number. There was a barcode next to it, to scan and send the money over via electronic transfer. ¡°Bad?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Huh? Nah, just forgot that I could afford these kinds of things now.¡± I got up while my augs worked out how to pay. I¡¯ll take care of it. I nodded and reminded myself to thank Myalis later as I moved around the table and helped Lucy up. She leaned against me, arms hugging mine close. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡± ¡°Home?¡± I asked. ¡°To the kittens,¡± she said. ¡°We need to pick something up for them.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. I made a note for Myalis to see, telling her to tip the waiter appropriately, then I walked side-by-side with Lucy, all the way out front where our taxi was just pulling up to the curb. Opening the backdoor, I waited for Lucy to get in, but instead she paused, turned around, and climbed to the tips of her toes to plant her lips against mine. She tasted like cake and sweetness and Lucy... and maybe that salad. Damn, it was a good salad. ¡°Think we can fuck in the car?¡± she murmured. I felt myself flushing a bit, even as I tried to hold back a grin that was no doubt a bit goofy. ¡°Let¡¯s find out,¡± I said. *** Interlewd Two Interlewd Two I barely took in the interior of the cab, too busy wrestling Lucy¡¯s tongue with my own as we slid into the long backseat. ¡°Greetings, honoured customers,¡± the taxi said. ¡°Was your meal satisfactory?¡± ¡°Mmh,¡± I said. Lucy was scooting towards the middle of the seat, but she still had one hand around my neck and was making sure that my ability to breathe and think was a little on the short end. We broke apart, for just a moment. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Hotel, bring us to the hotel. Myalis, turn off any observation stuff.¡± I wish I could off my own. There are some things I don¡¯t want to see. I snorted, then was cut off when Lucy grabbed the front of my jacket in a fist and pulled me closer. She was on one knee on the seat, her other leg extended to the floor to keep her at an angle. I shifted, sitting up properly. ¡°Lucy,¡± I said. She paused, and panted, her warm breath whispering past wet lips. ¡°What?¡± she asked. ¡°Sit?¡± I asked, patting my lap. She rolled her eyes. ¡°Softie,¡± she said. ¡°Fine.¡± I grinned as Lucy shoved over and plopped herself down on my lap. I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her close to my chest. Lucy could call me a softie all she wanted, this, having her in my arms all soft and warm, was the best. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. My head dropped to the nook of her neck and I started peppering her with soft little kisses. I knew that it annoyed her a little. Lucy was always a bit... rougher with her affections, and she liked it like that in return. The taxi started to move, both of us swaying just a little with the shifting momentum. I felt Lucy¡¯s rear wiggling a little, pushing down onto my lap as I continued to press kisses into her neck and hair. ¡°Cat,¡± Lucy whined. I loosened my hug a little, one hand slipping under the stealth jacket I¡¯d given her. It was warm under the coat. I pressed my hand over her stomach, then up until it was atop a breast. I squeezed, just a little. Lucy squirmed some more. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake Cat,¡± she muttered. ¡°I wanted to fuck, not just some cuddles.¡± ¡°Cuddles are important,¡± I said.

Hi! It''s me, RavensDagger... again! So, because Royal Road moved onto Apple and Google''s platforms, it doesn''t allow lewd content anymore. for that reason... well, the lewd part of this interlewd was moved off site. But it''s okay! You can read it, entirely for free, on my patreon. Link right here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/91219584 Chapter Fifty-One - Fashioning a Home Chapter Fifty-One - Fashioning a Home ¡°There has been a noticeable shift in style and fashion. Not to say that fashion wasn¡¯t changing rapidly already. By the mid-2000s, international communication, the internet, and the easing of travel restrictions allowed fashion from different cultures to come together and be mixed, occasionally homogenized, and often brought to extremes. Now, this shifting has become so rapid that to stay on top of the latest trends means keeping a constant eye on the fashion feeds and paparazzi rags. A trend can start, flourish, and die in the space of an afternoon.¡± --Fa-Fa-Fashionista, On The Evolution of Trends, 2057 *** I walked over to the other side of the display and leaned forwards to look at the wire-mesh interior. It showed most of the museum--and we¡¯d have to find a better name for our new home soon--in red, with a few sections in green. Myalis had determined that all of the red sections would need to be replaced and reconfigured sometime soon, preferably before anyone moved in. ¡°So, this is the final floor plan?¡± Lucy asked. I nodded along. ¡°Yeah, I think so,¡± I said. The floor plan gave us ten double bedrooms, good enough for a pair of kittens each, two bigger dorm-style rooms with a few beds in them for any newcomers, and a master bedroom one corridor over. Not too far that we couldn¡¯t run over, but not right next to the kittens either. The main museum area would be split into a kitchen and dining space, a playroom that was frankly absurdly large, and another little area that could serve as an office or library of sorts for the quieter kittens. We had one bathroom for every two rooms, with showers in each, and a smaller washroom next to the kitchen. The old vault was right where our bedroom would be, with the rear half of it marked to be replaced by a small armoury where I could store stuff. The outside wasn¡¯t going to be touched much. We¡¯d hire someone to remove all the ads and signs and such, and maybe we¡¯d add a carport over the parking space for... well, we¡¯d have to buy a van or something. I¡¯d pick whichever old beater would give Gomorrah the biggest headache. Lucy nodded. ¡°I like it. We¡¯ll have to see about getting nice furniture too.¡± ¡°I think we can afford that,¡± I said before glancing to the side. We had brought over the Dumbasses, both to guard the museum, and to allow us to better communicate with Myalis. It was one of the drones that was projecting the image of the building¡¯s wireframe, and another was sitting nearby, waiting patiently. ¡°Have you found any reliable contractors yet?¡± ¡°I have,¡± Myalis said. ¡°From looking into their records, I have found three suitably accredited teams with overlapping specialties. I would suggest hiring all three.¡± ¡°All three?¡± I repeated. ¡°Indeed. One has done satisfactory plumbing work on past installations, another has an entire team of electricians, and the final construction company has experience working with both Vanguards, and glass-fronted skyscrapers. The other two lack experience in both.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± I said. So hiring specialists to do the specialist-requiring... stuff. I was so far out of my depth... ¡°That sounds reasonable. Do you have an idea of their price range?¡± ¡°Seven, nine, and twelve million credits, respectively. That¡¯s not including the entirety of the material cost, but I¡¯m assuming some of that will be defrayed by the use of Vanguard-grade materials.¡± I held back a wince. That was... twenty-eight million? An insane amount of money. ¡°So, for the materials, we can¡¯t build this whole place with samurai-grade stuff, it¡¯ll take way too many points.¡± ¡°That is accurate,¡± Myalis said. ¡°To purchase enough material directly to rebuild this entire area would cost--assuming you want to purchase quality materials--something close to nine thousand points.¡± That was a lot lower than I¡¯d guesstimated. ¡°That¡¯s just normal materials, or fancier stuff?¡± ¡°Materials that are of a higher quality than commercially available, of course. Glass that can resist temperatures high enough not to melt on contact with your local sun and able to resist considerable impacts, hardened plates for the walls and floors and ceilings, doors that read a person¡¯s bio-signature, temperature regulating systems, and a few more commodities of that sort.¡± ¡°Fancy,¡± I said. ¡°Standard for a Vanguard¡¯s abode,¡± was Myalis¡¯ reply. ¡°Sounds nice, but kind of expensive,¡± Lucy said. The Dumbass Myalis was speaking out of shifted, and the wire-frame of the museum changed to a hovering image of some sort of confusing machine. It looked like it was the size of a minivan, with a large hopper on one side and a large screen on the other. ¡°This is a Mark Two Creation Engine. It takes in raw materials, sorts them by their atomic structure, then fabricates any needed material, components, or items.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Lucy said. ¡°I¡¯ve seen something like that! It¡¯s a big fancy printer. You toss stuff in, and it makes stuff out of it. They have them in some of the really fancy arcologies.¡± ¡°Where¡¯d you see that?¡± I asked. ¡°Media feed,¡± was her quick reply. ¡°How much will that cost, Myalis?¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t I the one supposed to ask that?¡± Myalis bobbed the Dumbass up and down. ¡°The first tier catalogue--matter reconfiguration machines, will cost a mere seventy-five points. The second tier costs one of your tokens, as well as an additional four hundred points. The device itself will cost two-thousand six-hundred points.¡± If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Yikes,¡± I said. ¡°But I can make anything with it, right?¡± ¡°Not quite. The device defaults to allowing you to only make anything from a blue-print you have purchased, as well as a host of items that would be considered tier-zero. That is, items that require no catalogue to make, such as simple tools and basic materials. That extends to things such as cement mixtures, metal structures, glass panels, and other such devices. Basically, it would allow the contractors to make all the materials they need.¡± I crossed my arms and thought about it. It was a damned big purchase. At the same time, if I got blueprints in the future, which were usually a bit cheaper than outright buying something, I could have... basically infinite stuff from those blueprints. Bullets and ammo and things that I¡¯d be reusing a lot were a no-brainer. I¡¯d recover those three-thousand points in... well, last time I¡¯d spent maybe a hundred points in all on ammo, so in thirty more incursions. That didn¡¯t quite seem worth it. But I could also get guns and maybe it could be used to make stuff the kittens would need. If I died out in the field, Lucy could use the machine to mass produce things. Maybe. ¡°Anyone can use it, then?¡± I asked. ¡°Anyone you whitelist. I can monitor the machine and only allow the contractors to pull materials they need.¡± ¡°And can you whitelist Lucy and the kittens?¡± Myalis bobbed the Dumbass up and down. ¡°That can easily be done. Perhaps a ban on the purchase of weapons for the children.¡± ¡°That¡¯s reasonable,¡± I said. I opened a text file and sent a message to Myalis. Can it run even after I die? Are you worried about your charges being able to care for themselves? In either case, yes, it can. I will ensure that Lucy and your kittens are always whitelisted by your security protocols, even if you die. ¡°That sounds cool. Maybe we can place it where the armoury would be?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll need another way to get to it, then,¡± Lucy said. ¡°We don¡¯t need people walking through the bedroom just to get a hammer or whatever.¡± ¡°We can add a door to the armoury linking back to the main room.¡± ¡°Shall we continue with the purchase then?¡± Myalis asked. ¡°Uh, yeah, I guess,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s...¡± I looked around, we were still in the main museum room. ¡°Let¡¯s move over to where the armoury will be, that way we won¡¯t have to move anything. Also, we¡¯ll have a bunch of cash left over, right?¡± ¡°A significant amount, though less than half your initial amount.¡± ¡°Right, let¡¯s set some of that aside for decorations and furniture and stuff. We¡¯ll need tables and chairs and... wait, we can just fabricate those, right?¡± ¡°With the correct blueprints, yes.¡± I rubbed at my nose. That was annoying. ¡°It¡¯ll probably be cheaper to just buy normal things then. Don¡¯t need to get a blueprint for a dozen beds.¡± ¡°Not even our bed?¡± Lucy asked. I considered that. A samurai bed... ¡°Okay, so we get one bed, but the kittens can sleep on whatever we can afford for a few million.¡± ¡°Speaking of monetary concerns, the list of requests from companies who sold you this location has come in.¡± ¡°Oh? Can I see it?¡± Myalis connected with my augs and I soon had a list hovering before one eye.

Purchase Cost	Quantity or Type	Name	Details
	Blueprint	Anti-Adware Suite	Basic Cyberwarfare Catalogue - Protects simple devices from non-whitelisted ad intrusion
	Blueprint	Anti-Spyware Suite	Basic Cyberwarfare Catalogue - Protects simple devices from non-whitelisted spyware intrusion
	Blueprint	Micro Acoustic Listening Device	Stealth Catalogue - Miniature listening and recording device
	Blueprint	Clothing Creation Fabricator	Decoy Catalogue - System to create clothes from modelled template
	Blueprint	Hard Light Projector	Decoy Catalogue - Miniaturized hard light projector for small cosmetic items
	Blueprint	Decoy Super Aug	Decoy Catalogue - A false version of the Vanguard customizable eye gear
	Item x 35	Nano- Regenerative Suite	Medical Utilities Catalogue - A suite of nano machines that circulate through a person''s body and fixes it rapidly
	Blueprint	Feline Cat Reflex Augmentation	Sunwatcher Technologies - Reflex enhancing brain implant
	Blueprint	Prosthetic Ears	Sunwatcher Technologies - Ear Augmentation
Total:?	3500

¡°Nearly all blueprints, which, alright, and... lots of decoy stuff.¡± ¡°From the bickering I was listening in on, it seems that some companies came together and desperately wanted to buy a clothing fabricator system. I suspect you might cause a bit of a fluctuation in some global markets. Congratulations.¡± ¡°Wonderful.¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Two - Fab Chapter Fifty-Two - Fab ¡°Fandoms are an interesting social phenomena. People who enjoy a piece of media or a celebrity congregate together to discuss the things they like. At the onset, this is completely normal human behaviour. What makes the phenomena more interesting is how modern society¡¯s trend towards mass communication allows this communication to spawn new artwork, new memes, and new sub-groups. It turns into an echo chamber, where ideas are reinforced and repeated and reiterated upon. It isn¡¯t terribly uncommon for early fandoms to focus on something entirely new, for example a freshly emerged Samurai. They will find, research, and dissect any bit of information they can about the new object for their obsession. This can come as a shock to some Samurai. For example, Hairumas, a Samurai interviewed in 2034 said, ¡°I didn¡¯t expect it. All of a sudden these guys and girls with afros just kept asking me to sign stuff. It was wild!¡± --Excerpt from a Scientific Yesterday paper, 2036 *** ¡°Okay,¡± I said as we reached the vault. It was in about the same condition as I remembered, minus the dead bodies. The floor had little pock-marks as if something had eaten away at it, mostly round where I remembered the corpses being. That felt like it had been months ago. ¡°We¡¯ll start by paying the corps their due, I guess.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Yeah, Myalis gave me the list of shit the building sellers want. It¡¯s all blueprints except for a bunch of nano-regen things,¡± I said. ¡°Think there¡¯s a box around here we could dump them in?¡± The Dumbass following up piped up at that. ¡°The containers most items come in are stackable. Shall I inform the broker that the thirty-five Nano-Regenerative Suites are ready for pick-up?¡± ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I said. ¡°We can leave them at the door I guess, with one of the Dumbasses.¡± ¡°What else did they buy? And what¡¯s those nano-whatsit do?¡± ¡°They inject these little bots in you that un-messes you up. I think that¡¯s what I gave you for your MS, right? Crap, I can¡¯t remember. Anyway, I guess some rich dudes just want to live longer or whatever.¡± ¡°Nano Regenerative Suites can alleviate a lot of the ills caused by aging. Issues with joints, with eyesight, minor stress issues in musculature and in the cardio-vascular system. Even an outwardly healthy human has hundreds of very minor issues that can be repaired,¡± Myalis said. ¡°As for the other stuff they bought...¡± I looked over the list again. ¡°Just blueprints. A lot of clothing stuff from my decoy catalogue, some cyberwarfare stuff. Uh, mostly looks like protection stuff.¡± ¡°I limited the offensive options,¡± Myalis said. ¡°Giving offensive electronic warfare packages to just anyone seemed like a bad idea.¡± ¡°No shit,¡± I muttered. Lucy shrugged, ¡°Alright then. So we¡¯re buying that big machine that makes stuff?¡± ¡°Yup,¡± I said. ¡°Blueprints and nano stuff first though. Can you not swarm my augs with messages though? That little chiming noise is a bit annoying.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± New Purchases: Blueprints x 8 - Various. Nano-Regenerative Suit x 35 Points Reduced to... 3420! I winced at seeing my points total dropping so low. ¡°The blueprints have been sent. You also retain a copy for yourself, of course.¡± ¡°Ohh, so we can make stuff!¡± Lucy said. ¡°Can I see the list?¡± ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I said. Lucy grinned. ¡°Okay so.. Boring, boring, creepy, ohh, is a Clothing Creation Fabricator a thing that makes clothes?¡± ¡°Based on a template, yes. I suspect that the corporations purchasing it will be stymied, at least temporarily, by the complexity of the models required to get the machine to function.¡± ¡°But we have a you,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Could I show you pics of cute things then have you make them with this thing?¡± ¡°Certainly,¡± Myalis said. I rubbed at my temples. ¡°So, let¡¯s change up the design of our room a little,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re going to need, like, a walk-in closet.¡± ¡°Does it make shoes?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°The Clothing Creation Fabricator can, yes.¡± ¡°A big walk-in closet,¡± I muttered. We moved over towards the back of the room and where I imagined the armoury would be. I never fancied myself much of a gun-nut or anything like that. But the idea of having a room in my house entirely dedicated to weapons was kinda hot. ¡°Right, Myalis, can you place the creation engine right here.¡± I gestured, raising and lowering both arms as if dropping a big box on the ground. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°Certainly. Let me just verify that the structure can support its weight.¡± ¡°How big is this thing?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s approximately two meters long, two high, and three wide.¡± ¡°Damn, that¡¯s big,¡± I said. ¡°We need like, a couple of feet of clearance all around, right? Where¡¯s the bit where you dump stuff in?¡± ¡°The front, as is the area where materials and items can be picked up.¡± ¡°Ah, alright,¡± I said. ¡°We can squeeze it in a bit more.¡± ¡°I have modified the blueprints to your armoury and room in accordance with the room required to fit everything in. Is this suitable?¡± Myalis asked as a wire-frame hologram appeared over the Dumbass she was using. Our bedroom was a bit smaller, with a long, narrow room added to the side that was no doubt the walk-in closet. It wouldn¡¯t be as big as the penthouse bedroom, but still, it was bigger than any room back at the orphanage. ¡°That looks great!¡± Lucy cheered. I nodded. ¡°That¡¯ll do. Okay. Big machine time!¡± New Purchase: Mark Two Creation Engine Points Reduced to... 335! The machine took a moment to appear, longer than when I¡¯d summoned... anything else. When it did appear, the pause made sense. It was a big, lumbering thing. It reminded me a bit of the front-end of one of those moving vans, the ones with a flat front. A large screen took up a decent portion of the front, currently running through some idle animations. To the side was a heavy-looking door and below that a sort of hopper thing with little coasters. It looked a bit like the place where toys would fall out from one of those old coin-operated gacha machines. ¡°Shiny,¡± Lucy said. It was pretty shiny, all chrome and rivets and brass-coloured knobs. ¡°To utilize the machine, tap the screen. It will verify your identity, then bring you to the main controls. From there, you can pick the thing you wish to build. The Creation Engine¡¯s matter content is currently at optimal levels. In the future, you will either need to add items to be reclaimed, or purchase more raw matter through point expenditure.¡± Lucy stepped up and poked the screen. A digital kitten ran after a rolling ball of digital yarn. ¡°Did you customize the loading screen?¡± I asked. ¡°I may have,¡± Myalis admitted. ¡°I also added a loading screen. It¡¯s quite unnecessary.¡± I rolled my eyes and refocused on the screen. There was a list of options for Lucy to pick from. All of the blueprints I¡¯d just bought to buy the museum, and one labelled ¡®generic materials.¡¯ Lucy picked the ¡®Prosthetic Ears¡¯ option and scrolled through that for a bit. There were some two dozen options, and the ability to customize those further. From adding colour to tweaking how the prosthetic worked. ¡°Do you think I¡¯d look cool with cat ears?¡± she asked. ¡°Yours are really cute.¡± ¡°They¡¯re embarrassing,¡± I said. I couldn¡¯t help but flick them back. ¡°They wiggle a bunch when you¡¯re about to get off,¡± Lucy said without even glancing back. My more human ears felt warm. ¡°They what?¡± ¡°It¡¯s cute!¡± ¡°Dammit Lucy,¡± I groaned. ¡°You should have told me.¡± She shook her head, then pointed to the screen. ¡°Pink?¡± The ears on display were an ear-searingly bright pink, like someone had gone nuts with a radioactive high-lighter. ¡°That¡¯s a bit much,¡± I said. ¡°Yeah, I should go for something that matches my hair,¡± she said before tapping a colour-wheel option. I shook my head. ¡°Are you really getting cat-ears?¡± ¡°Do you not want me to?¡± Lucy asked. I huffed. Me telling Lucy not to do something had never prevented Lucy from doing something she already wanted to do. I couldn¡¯t see how that would change now. ¡°It¡¯s up to you, I guess. Don¡¯t see why you¡¯d want that, your ears work fine.¡± ¡°So do yours,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I just wanna be on-theme.¡± ¡°On theme?¡± ¡°Well, yeah, there¡¯s you, Stray Cat, with the tail and the ears and the cat-themed jacket. And then there are the kittens, then there¡¯s me. I¡¯m the only part of the equation that¡¯s not cat-themed.¡± I stepped up and hugged Lucy from behind. ¡°You¡¯re such a moron,¡± I said. ¡°I am not,¡± she protested. Not that she tried to move out of the hug. I was enjoying the moment when Myalis twitched. ¡°Catherine, you have a visitor.¡± ¡°One of the contractors?¡± I asked. Already? ¡°No. It¡¯s Deus Ex.¡± ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± I said. ¡°The little laser girl?¡± Lucy asked as she pulled out of the hug. ¡°Did you have business with her?¡± ¡°No, but she¡¯s the sort to dump some trouble on me. Come on, let¡¯s go see what the pipsqueak wants.¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Three - Palace Chapter Fifty-Three - Palace ¡°Samurai are incredible. But they are not infallible.¡± -Two-Slices, June 2023 *** Deus Ex somehow chose not to act like the little laser gremlin that she was, and waited outside for Lucy and I to come and greet her. Maybe it was a courtesy thing. Or maybe samurai didn¡¯t step into each other¡¯s bases without permission because of... common sense or something. That might make sense, actually. I opened the front door and held it open behind me for Lucy and the Dumbass that Myalis was currently controlling. Across from me, on the wide surface of the landing area that took up a chunk of our floor, was Deus Ex, the girl sitting on one of her twin laser... hover... things. ¡°Yo!¡± I said. Deus blinked. ¡°Oh, hey,¡± she said. ¡°New place?¡± ¡°Yup, bought it yesterday,¡± I said. She nodded. ¡°Nice. I have work for you.¡± I crossed my arms. ¡°You know, most people work up to their requests. Maybe a bit of small-talk? Some questions about the family? Polite shit.¡± ¡°Do either of us care about that?¡± she asked. ¡°Well, no, but it¡¯d be nice to pretend.¡± Lucy waved. ¡°Hi Deus Ex!¡± ¡°Hello,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°Fine, I guess we can do the small talk stuff. I need a bit of a breather. And I guess the work¡¯s not until tonight anyway.¡± ¡°What work?¡± I asked. Lucy poked me. ¡°You literally just agreed to do small talk first. Come on Deus! We have vending machines left over. We can grab you something to drink. What do you like?¡± ¡°Ah, um, anything, I guess?¡± Deus Ex said. I eyed the girl for a moment. She wasn¡¯t being as rambunctious as usual. Then again, last time I saw her she didn¡¯t have bags under her eyes either. ¡°Have you been sleeping?¡± I asked. ¡°Not since the New Montreal incursion started, no,¡± she admitted. ¡°I¡¯m running on stims. Or I was, they¡¯re wearing off. I took a cleansing solution to wash them out. I should be fine by tomorrow.¡± ¡°You need sleep,¡± I said. ¡°I do,¡± she agreed. ¡°But until the work is all done, I really can¡¯t afford it.¡± Shaking my head, I moved over to the door and held it open again for everyone to file back into the museum. Deus Ex paused past the lobby and looked around with obvious confusion. ¡°Is that a scale-model of an Antithesis?¡± she asked. ¡°Yup,¡± I said. ¡°We, uh, don¡¯t know if anyone will be picking that up, actually. I think all the valuable displays are long gone though.¡± ¡°So you bought an entire museum. That¡¯s actually a rather unique home for a Vanguard,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°I¡¯m sure you could make a lot just charging for tours.¡± ¡°Ah, actually, we¡¯re converting it to a normal home. Well, normal-ish. An orphanage,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯ve seen some weird homes?¡± The girl nodded. ¡°A couple of samurai live in bunkers dug into mountains. One that I met on the west-coast lives in the Pacific. Really deep under water. The Antithesis incursions have landed in the ocean before. Those tend to be nastier than urban fights. Lots of biological stuff for the aliens to eat, and you need to fight in three dimensions a lot more.¡± ¡°Nasty,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d rather avoid that, thanks.¡± I didn¡¯t exactly have a fear of drowning, but I did hold my breath any time a character was underwater in a movie or game. I couldn¡¯t imagine fighting underwater, even if Myalis had... okay, she definitely had something to allow me to breathe water. ¡°It¡¯s not bad.¡± She looked around again. ¡°You own the whole building?¡± ¡°Just this floor,¡± I said. ¡°And that bit outside, and some passages that are kinda on this floor, and kinda on the floor below. It¡¯s a little strange, on account of that museum part being lower than the rest.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not bad. I¡¯d suggest buying out the lower floors sooner or later. Probably not a priority yet. A whole building must be fairly expensive.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t own the place where you live?¡± I asked. She blinked. ¡°Oh, no, I do.¡± ¡°Which city is it in?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°It¡¯s in space,¡± Deus Ex said with the casual ease of someone saying ¡®it''s in the next town over.¡¯ ¡°Technically it¡¯s in low-orbit. It brushes Earth¡¯s atmosphere, so re-entry isn¡¯t that bad.¡± ¡°Wait, you live in fucking space?¡± I said. No one told me that space was an option. She nodded. ¡°It¡¯s fairly safe. Some antithesis can get to it, but most humans can¡¯t. No one can really spy on my house, and I¡¯d see anyone trying to mess with me coming long before they could do anything. Well, I suppose there are faster-than-light weapons that could hurt my house, but those are usually my speciality.¡± Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. I was feeling a bit... I don¡¯t know what the term was exactly. What guys feel when they discover that some chad has a bigger car, a cute girlfriend, and a nicer house than they do. I wanted a space palace... Well, maybe later. We moved over to the little cafeteria area, Deus Ex sitting down while Lucy grabbed the Dumbass and brought it before the vending machines to threaten some drinks out of it. I sat across from the littlest samurai. ¡°So, you mentioned a job?¡± ¡°Not a job. Work. Being a Vanguard is a job. What we do is work,¡± she said. ¡°Oh-kay,¡± I said. ¡°So what¡¯s the work?¡± Lucy returned with the front of her shirt turned up to form a pouch which she¡¯d filled with ice-cold drinks. She set them on the table, then flopped down next to me. ¡°Ah, that was annoying. Now my belly¡¯s all cold too.¡± I grinned and tugged her unto one leg so that I could better rub her stomach. To treasure its warmth, of course. Deus Ex rolled her eyes as she picked out the drink with the most caffeine and sugar from the bunch and popped the tab. ¡°During the last incursion, the one that hit New Montreal, we had some difficulty tracking the landing area for most of the antithesis pods,¡± she began. ¡°Don¡¯t samurai have great equipment for that?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°We do, but it¡¯s a bit scattered. It really depends on the city. New Montreal was last hit, uh, I don''t know, a decade ago? The system currently in place was built right after that. It¡¯s not as good as it could be.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°So you don¡¯t know where every bit of alien goop landed.¡± ¡°Not all of them, no. Those that fell from high-orbit are easy to track. We have overlapping scans of them coming down and can extrapolate from there. Then those in lower orbits were mostly visible from hover car dash-cams and street sonar. So we know where they went too. But it took a while for someone to decide to look into all the footage to make sure we weren¡¯t missing anything.¡± ¡°And you missed something?¡± I asked. She nodded. ¡°There are samurai that don¡¯t like high-risk work. They tend to come in after an incursion to help with the clean-up stuff. It means killing a few aliens and clearing the sewers and the area around a hive, usually with drones and stuff. They¡¯re useful Vanguards, but they grow really slowly.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s safe,¡± I guessed. ¡°Yeah,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°I don¡¯t like that kind of work. It¡¯s not rewarding enough. Maybe half the Vanguard out there become that sort. Anyway, one of them tracked a bit of antithesis debris to--actually, can I use your drone?¡± ¡°Go ahead,¡± I said. Myalis hopped onto the table with cat-like grace. ¡°What do you wish to display?¡± she asked. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s your AI. Nice. Ah, these maps, and this file, as well as this,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°She¡¯s more polite to Myalis than to you,¡± Lucy mock-whispered. ¡°The AI deserves it,¡± Deus Ex said. It stung all the more since she delivered it as a plain fact. Myalis projected a holographic image of the Earth, then moved in on North America and finally the area we were in. Little black dots hovered in the air, and I recognized antithesis pods. They were falling slowly towards the city below. ¡°That¡¯s a reconstruction made from hundreds of recordings,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°Look at this piece.¡± One pod burst apart when a line of AA fire moved past it. Not through it though. From the wreckage came something that looked fleshy and that sprouted wings, and that then turned blurry. ¡°Bad angle?¡± I asked. ¡°No. Organic ECM. A stealth antithesis. Maybe a new model. Lower active combat threat rating, but in this scenario more of a long-term threat. It glided all the way over to... here.¡± The map shifted, showing a red dotted trajectory that went north, shifting here and there so that it was never quite a straight line until, finally, it hit near a small town. ¡°That¡¯s Black Bear. It¡¯s a mining town with a population of about three thousand in what used to be the Mastigouche nature reserve. And about three hours ago, all contact with the town was lost. We think there¡¯s a small stealth hive growing near there, and we need someone to go blow it up.¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Four - Phoenix Chapter Fifty-Four - Phoenix ¡°It¡¯s a polite and accepted fiction that an incursion is defeated when the samurai swoop in and kill the last alien trying to ruin humanity. The truth is a lot more complex, mostly owing to the mechanism by which our alien invaders function. They adapt. They are not a singular living organism, but a collection of different types of creatures that can evolve and change to best accommodate any given circumstance. These changes are, generally, fairly slow; but they are fast enough to be troublesome. The truth was discovered in 2022, when the Ohio incursion returned from the ashes, and humanity discovered that the Antithesis could burrow and hide and scheme while we expected them to remain dead.¡± --William Hart, Excerpt from Essay on the Recursion-Factor of Antithesis Incursions, 2028 *** I leaned back in my seat and stared at the map. The ex-nature reserve, according to the Wikipedia article Myalis brought up for me, was sold to an organization that was all about protecting nature and such. That organization was a shell owned by a mining consortium that immediately set up shop to mine... ¡°What the fuck is vanadium?¡± Lucy shrugged and Deus Ex blinked a few times. ¡°It¡¯s a metal used to make alloys of other metals. Why are you asking that?¡± ¡°Says here that Black Bear is set up near two mines. One¡¯s a vanadium mine, the other titanium. I know what titanium is.¡± ¡°Does it matter?¡± Deus Ex asked. ¡°Well, maybe it was like, a uranium mine or something? Radioactive antithesis doesn¡¯t sound like something I¡¯m keen on dealing with.¡± She nodded. ¡°Right. Those are annoying. I really shouldn¡¯t argue against doing more research. Anyway, Black Bear is the priority. There¡¯s one Vanguard already on the scene, but he¡¯s not the greatest when it comes to defensive actions. That¡¯s why I wanted to send you.¡± ¡°Um, I love Cat, but I don¡¯t know if she can take on all the aliens on her own,¡± Lucy said. ¡°It¡¯s a stealth incursion,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°They¡¯ll follow different rules. Most big incursions are swarming ones. The Antithesis produce as many creatures as they can and spread out quickly while fighting off whatever resistance they¡¯re up against. A stealth incursion is significantly slower. There¡¯s going to be a hive, but it will look very similar to the nature around it.¡± ¡°So why don¡¯t we just use some fancy tech to find the hive and carpet bomb it?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s... exactly what we want to do.¡± Deus Ex stared at the dumbass still standing on the table, and soon it displayed an image of the globe. Just the hemisphere that we were on. ¡°The incursion is here.¡± A red dot appeared. ¡°So we¡¯re going to strike... like this.¡± Blue dots appeared around the red one, forming a circle that went most of the way around it. Then another set of dots appeared closer. Then another. Each one overlapped with the previous a little, and each new circle was closer to the middle until finally a single dot hit the red dot dead-centre. ¡°Are those bombs?¡± ¡°Orbital strikes,¡± Deus Ex explained. ¡°We don¡¯t use those in cities. The earthquakes they cause tend to be bad for infrastructure.¡± ¡°I imagine,¡± Lucy said. ¡°So why do you need Cat if you¡¯re going to bomb the place from orbit?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a strike, not a bombing, technically. And we need Vanguard to protect Black Bear. If the city went off the grid, that means it¡¯s being attacked already. They might not even know it yet. The one Vanguard we have on-scene is... not very useful for that kind of thing. Basically, make sure the civilians are safe while we bomb the hive, then help with the clean-up after.¡± ¡°That sounds doable.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the kind of thing that¡¯s good for newbies to do. It¡¯s not too dangerous, will get you some points, and it doesn''t require that you be too strong.¡± ¡°Wow, thanks,¡± I deadpanned. Deus Ex nodded. ¡°You¡¯re welcome. You can take Gomorrah with you, if you want. It would be nice to have even more boots on the ground. The military should be rolling in tomorrow afternoon to do a full visual inspection of the area.¡± ¡°Is this common?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°The whole stealth incursion thing?¡± ¡°It can take years to completely clear an area,¡± Deus Ex said. ¡°Even with a lot of Vanguard looking for them, the Antithesis tend to be able to sneak by and form new hives. They¡¯re usually spotted as soon as they start, which means we can destroy them quickly, but there¡¯s almost always another ready to form somewhere else.¡± ¡°That¡¯s disturbing.¡± ¡°They¡¯re an infestation,¡± she said. ¡°Like cockroaches, but worse. Sometimes they¡¯ll hide as parasites in animals for years, sometimes they¡¯ll burrow into the ground and wait, other times they¡¯ll spit pollen-mist in the air that¡¯ll be carried a long way with the wind. If you don¡¯t dispose of the bodies correctly, then they¡¯ll regrow, and if you don¡¯t pay attention, they can burst out of an area with a bigger, stronger force than even an initial incursion.¡± Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Damn,¡± I muttered. ¡°About a quarter of the incursions you hear about are just remnants of an old one that resettled in an area with lots of biomass and that formed a new hive.¡± Deus Ex shook her head. ¡°We¡¯re getting better at tracking them. More satellites, more arrays dedicated to spotting them, and more Vanguard overall to do clean-up work.¡± I hugged Lucy a bit closer and tucked my face in the crook of her neck. She smelled like those fancy shampoos in the penthouse bathroom. Refocusing a bit, I considered the job. The overall details weren¡¯t my problem. Deus Ex just wanted me to pop over to that little town and keep the folk there safe, maybe kill off any aliens that were annoying them. It was... not a terrible idea? It would mean more points, at the very least, and I was running kinda low on those. ¡°Do I get paid for this?¡± I asked. Deus Ex blinked a few times, then shrugged and took a swig from her drink before answering. ¡°I guess. You probably won¡¯t make many points, so it¡¯s fair. Uh, I don¡¯t know how much your time is worth.¡± ¡°A million an hour,¡± I said. ¡°Okay.¡± I stared. That had been a joke. Well, part-joke, part wild stab in the dark. ¡°Uh, okay then,¡± I said. Deus Ex flicked her hand to the side and her empty can sailed through the air and landed dead-centre in a garbage can across the room. ¡°I need to get home and sleep,¡± she said. ¡°I might just auto-pilot my way there at this rate.¡± She yawned, and for a moment it was easy to forget that she was a hardened alien killer. Then she scrunched her nose cutely, sneezed, and a helmet unfolded out of her collar and covered her head. ¡°You alright?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°...I¡¯m fine. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow or something. Get to Black Bear within the next couple of hours, they really need the help.¡± Lucy and I got up and escorted Deus outside where her big laser hover things were waiting. She stepped onto a little platform between the two, waved at us, then took off. Soon, her little platform was pointing straight up and with a burst of light she jetted off into the sky until I couldn¡¯t make her out as anything more than a distant twinkle. ¡°She¡¯s kinda nice, deep inside,¡± Lucy said. I snorted. ¡°She¡¯s a bit nuts.¡± Lucy leaned in closer. ¡°Are you going to go?¡± ¡°It¡¯s good credits, and I could use the points,¡± I said. Her grip around my arm tightened. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous.¡± ¡°Yeah, but everything is,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t be like that, you know what I meant.¡± I sighed and turned to plant a kiss on her forehead. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I said. ¡°Promise. Plus, Gomorrah will be there. I think the most dangerous part of the whole thing will be holding back from corrupting her.¡± Lucy snorted as she pulled me into a hug. ¡°Fine then,¡± she said before her hands started to wander. ¡°Just come back, okay?¡± ¡°Sure thing,¡± I said. We returned back into the museum, and I split from Lucy for a moment to make a call. She had plenty to keep her busy, especially since Myalis was there to help her contact all the contractors we¡¯d be needing to get the place fixed up. At least we had more cash secure for that, or would soon enough. I searched through my contacts until I found Gomorrah¡¯s number. It rang once before she answered. ¡°Cat?¡± ¡°Heya Gomorrah,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± ¡°Not very much, is something wrong?¡± ¡°Yup,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s an incursion up north. An hour¡¯s flight from New Montreal near some little town. Place called Black Bear. There¡¯s a samurai there already, and they¡¯re about to go all orbital strike on the hive, but the folk there need some people to keep them safe.¡± ¡°Are you serious?¡± she asked. ¡°Yeah. Dead serious. Wanna come over to my new place? We can chat in person, then head out if you want to. There¡¯s more points to be made, and you know, civilians to protect and all that.¡± Gomorrah took a moment to reply, and when she did, it was with a big sigh. ¡°I¡¯m on my way.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the second best,¡± I said as I hung up. It made Lucy smile. I made sure to send her the museum¡¯s address too. Now I just had to wait... and maybe get all of my gear together. I had the impression that things would be a bit more hectic than what Deus Ex implied. *** Chapter Fifty-Five - Making an Entrance Chapter Fifty-Five - Making an Entrance ¡°Post-2020 saw a massive surge of people moving into the cities and new megacities appearing all over the world. A surge that hadn¡¯t been seen since the height of the industrial revolution. Despite that, the small-town didn¡¯t just disappear. Entire businesses formed that catered specifically to people living in rural towns across the world. They became popular places for the rich to spend their retirement years away from the pressure of the city, and for the lucky few that retired to live out the rest of their lives in relative quiet. That does not mean that small towns are perfect hamlets of civility. All the issues of poverty, hunger, and the gulf between rich and poor are just as prevalent in these towns, especially in the many, many ¡®corpo-burgs¡¯--corporate-owned towns--that started to appear near larger cities.¡± --Commentary on the Shift in Small Town Thoughts, Tim Butcher, 2038 *** I gave Lucy a kiss before going. Then, because Gomorrah hadn¡¯t arrived yet, I gave her another, then another. Unfortunately, we were both still dressed when Myalis pinged me to inform me that Gomorrah had landed out front. ¡°Be careful,¡± Lucy ordered. I gave her a last hug for the road, pressing her close to me. She fit the way only Lucy did. ¡°I will be,¡± I promised before letting go. I ducked my ears down flat on my head as I stepped out into the rain, then belatedly tucked my helmet on. Gomorrah had parked God¡¯s Righteous Fury right in the middle of our landing zone, the car all wet and sleek as if it was posing for one of those hyper-real commercials. I could almost hear the snobbish narrator telling the audience that they would never be able to afford a car this awesome. I ran to the passenger side just as the door opened with a pneumatic hiss, then I flung my Whisper in the back and placed my new grenade launcher on my lap as I fell onto the seat. ¡°Yo.¡± ¡°Are your feet in?¡± she asked as she pressed the gas. We were off the edge before the door had even sealed. I leaned into the cushions as Gomorrah aimed us into the greyed sky. ¡°So, uh, what¡¯s up?¡± ¡°You¡¯re really not good at pleasantries, you know?¡± ¡°Oh yeah, I know, but it¡¯s polite to pretend to be nice to your friends,¡± I said. ¡°Hmph,¡± she said. ¡°Do you have any idea what the sisters at the monastery would say if they saw you calling me a friend?¡± ¡°They¡¯d ask who the smoking hot girl you¡¯re with is?¡± I tried. She shook her head. ¡°If they didn¡¯t think I was some sort of saint they¡¯d pull out the ruler and go on about bad influences for an hour.¡± ¡°The ruler, huh?¡± I asked. ¡°You should tell Lucy about that, she was always really keen on spanking disobedient girls... do you think Lucy could cut it as a nun?¡± ¡°No,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°How is it that we¡¯ve been together for less than a minute and you¡¯re already being a pervert?¡± I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve got a very simple mind. Half of it is filled with snark, the other half is loaded up with images of Lucy being lewd. Speaking of which, do you think I could borrow a nun costume?¡± Gomorrah made a disgusted little noise. I figured she was actually amused by it all though. ¡°I¡¯d need to burn it, like how they disposed of unclean things in the past. And it¡¯s called a habit, not a costume.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try not to make a habit of calling it a costume then,¡± I said. She glanced my way, and while I knew she couldn¡¯t see my smug grin through my helmet, I liked to think that she could sense it. ¡°Where are we heading to again?¡± ¡°Black Bear, I think. Some little mining town about an hour north from here.¡± A map appeared, superimposed over the rainy city on the other side of the windshield. Our location was a glowing dot, and our destination another. Gomorrah manipulated the yoke and we shifted just a little bit. ¡°An hour north, huh,¡± she muttered. I only-just had time to grab onto my launcher before we accelerated forwards and everything became a whole lot heavier for a moment. A glance at the speedometer before Gomorrah showed it shooting past the two-hundreds, then the threes, before slowing down in the four-hundreds. ¡°I guess it won¡¯t take an hour then,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d hope not,¡± she shot back. ¡°So, details?¡± ¡°Right. Deus Ex was about as enlightening as usual, which is to say, not very. Basically, some stealth aliens settled down near the town. We need to keep it safe until the big guns hit the hive. Probably going to send the aliens running.¡± If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°So, we¡¯ll be playing a defensive game, then,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I can work with that.¡± ¡°Plenty of forests and stuff around too, I think. Means a lot of biomass, but also a lot of stuff that burns.¡± Gomorrah nodded and then angled us down. I felt my insides trying to become my outsides, and that fancy supper from the night before was considering leaving when she leveled us off about twenty meters over the tops of the tallest trees. I relaxed. Gomorrah was a good driver. Or was it pilot? It didn¡¯t matter, she seemed to enjoy this kind of thing, and she was damned good at it from what I could tell. Her AI probably wouldn¡¯t let her crash into a mountain either. We started to slow down, and I felt the seat molding around me to hold me in place against the pull of deceleration until Gomorrah and I were flying slow enough that the scenery outside was more than just a blur. Homes zipped past. Little bungalows in neat rows with bigger apartments next to them. A few stores too. Mostly gas-stations and convenience stores, but at least one grocery right on the edge of the town. I tried to recall how many people lived here. It was a tiny enough place that had we still been moving at Gomorrah¡¯s preferred speed, we would have likely missed it with a blink. Flashes of gunfire drew my eye, and I pointed towards the centre of town. ¡°You see that?¡± ¡°No, what? Ah, I see it.¡± There seemed to only be two schools in Black Bear, two older looking buildings built across the street from each other, with decently large fields out back and parking lots filled to the brim with cars haphazardly tucked away. Weaving through those cars were familiar forms. Model Threes, running on all fours like a pack of hounds, some leaping onto cars, others slipping around them. And facing them from behind a row of squad cars were some five or six police officers. They were right before the school¡¯s main entrance. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, can you figure out what¡¯s going on?¡± I believe so. The protocol in case of an incursion near Black Bear is to resume work until company representatives can verify the veracity of any claims, calculate potential losses, then allocate their employees to shelters. I will note that there are no shelters in the town that meet any major criteria. ¡°Shit,¡± I said. In defiance of this, it seems as if the locals have unanimously declared that none of their machinery was functional today, and have sought shelter in the local high-school. Company police have acted against this. From their recordings, it seems they were at the school to clear it out when the first Antithesis arrived. ¡°Damnation,¡± Gomorrah said. She flicked something on her yoke and a dozen cross-hairs appeared on the windshield, then zipped around to aim more-or-less right at the nearest aliens. ¡°Firing.¡± ¡°Firing what?¡± I asked. Then the Fury spat out a volley of screaming missiles that spun in the air, realigned with the ground, and blasted the town below, sending fire and concrete and bits of hovercars all over. ¡°Now they know we¡¯re here,¡± she said. ¡°Shit,¡± I said. ¡°Okay, we need to defend this town... the entire town. How many people have made it to the school?¡± Unknown. Certainly less than the entire population. ¡°Right... shit, Gomorrah, can you drop me off by the front. There¡¯s supposed to be some other samurai here. We need to get into contact. I¡¯ll talk to the locals in the mean-time. Can you waste a few more of those rockets on any big pack?¡± ¡°And then?¡± she asked. ¡°I think we need to draw all the civvies to one place and barricade it in. It¡¯ll be easier to protect them that way. We can install turrets and mines and shit. Worry about clearing the town later.¡± ¡°So I¡¯ll play air-support?¡± she asked. ¡°Land Fury somewhere safe if you want,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not your boss. Just not keen on seeing folk die.¡± The nun nodded and spun us around while lowering the car. The passenger door opened when we were still a meter off the ground. ¡°Call me if you need me, I¡¯ll be farming points the easy way.¡± ¡°See ya,¡± I said as I stood, grabbed my crossbow from the back, then dropped to the ground to land with a crouch. The Fury pulled up with a wash of warm air, leaving me alone in front of some half-dozen guys in blue uniforms. ¡°Sup?¡± I asked. ¡°Hear you guys had an alien problem?¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Six - Small and in Charge Chapter Fifty-Six - Small and in Charge ¡°There are all sorts of reactions to someone seeing a Samurai show up, and generally, these reactions will depend on circumstance. Fear and terror are common among those doing things that are morally dubious. Seeing a samurai show up at an underground human auction is never going to please the organizers. Awe and worship for those who encounter a samurai on the streets. It¡¯s a privileged encounter with a celebrity for most. And finally, relief, most often felt by those fearing for their lives when a samurai appears and decides that whatever is currently a threat needs to be removed.¡± --Except from a sociological study on the predictable responses to a samurai¡¯s appearance, 2028 *** I took a deep breath and tried to look confident. Then I recalled that the folk I was dealing with were little better than corporate goons. Worse, they were corporate cops. That was like dealing with a toddler that had taken one or two concussions too many and who¡¯s only skill was to figure out exactly how much of a minority someone was or how poor they were before shooting them. I didn¡¯t need confidence to deal with these dipshits, I needed a bigger gun. Walking over to the barricade they¡¯d made with their cars, I stepped onto a bumper, then the hood before jumping over to the other side. There were eight of them, a couple more than I¡¯d counted at first. Mostly men, with navy blue uniforms and bulletproof vests and tacticool handguns and a shotgun or three. ¡°Which one of you¡¯s the asshole in charge?¡± I asked. ¡°I am,¡± One of them said. He had a little logo on his shoulder that the others didn¡¯t. The police station¡¯s symbol, then the logo of the local mining company, then some badge. ¡°Wrong, I am the asshole in charge now,¡± I said. ¡°How many cops do we have, minion?¡± Alright, so it was rude and stupid, but the look on the guy¡¯s face was worth it, and I needed to cut past the bullshittery as soon as I could. ¡°Um,¡± the captain--I assumed that was his rank--said. ¡°We have twenty-four officers in this town, ma¡¯am. Seventeen of them are here. We have a squad-car down the road with two more on their way in, and four others are at the clinic.¡± I nodded. ¡°Myalis, I need a map of this place, please.¡± ¡°I like the location label,¡± I deadpanned. The huge yellow ¡®You Are Here¡¯ was a bit much. Still, that gave me an idea of what the town looked like. It had a decent footprint, but most of the buildings were on the smaller side. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± the captain asked. ¡°Right. The highschool¡¯s the new rally point. Is there enough room here for every civilian in town?¡± ¡°The building capacity is just under two-thousand,¡± he said. ¡°Fuck capacity, I mean how many folk can we cram in here so that they¡¯re not in our way while we¡¯re trying to save them all?¡± One of the officers, a younger woman, cleared her throat. ¡°I think we could maybe move three-quarters of the town in here, but it¡¯ll be really tight. Some of the classrooms have locked themselves, that would give us more room.¡± ¡°Alright. You.¡± I pointed to one of the cops. ¡°Find the principal, or whoever''s in charge of the school. Tell them to unlock everything. I¡¯ll be moving all the cars outside around and forming a wall with them.¡± I had the idea from their little barrier. ¡°I¡¯ll be giving you guys some turrets too. Find roof access and place them up there, they should auto-target the nearest Antithesis. Do not try to steal my shit, or we¡¯ll be having words.¡± The man nodded and shot off, the others seemed to untense a little. Good for them, I supposed. Having someone show up and start cracking the metaphorical whip must have been some sort of comfort. The captain¡¯s mic crackled and he pressed a hand to his ear for a moment. I¡¯d need to tap into that later, but I had other things to do first. ¡°Myalis, I need good turrets. Won¡¯t be able to reload them.¡± I eyed the map, then looked up at the school. Two floors, made of reddish brick and with some smaller windows on the second floor. The roof looked to be flat above. ¡°Maybe three of them? We can cover this side of the building ourselves.¡± That sounds reasonable. I suppose you need turrets that are somewhat mobile and easy to set up? ¡°Yeah, can¡¯t have anything too hard to move.¡± Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± the captain said. ¡°Uh, corporate just gave us orders.¡± ¡°Orders?¡± I asked. ¡°And they are?¡± ¡°We¡¯re to move some VIPs from here to headquarters, then deploy along the walls to protect the building.¡± I blinked, then eyed the map again. ¡°Is headquarters the one with the walls?¡± I asked. ¡°They¡¯re anti-rioting walls,¡± the female cop said. ¡°With sonic and water-based weapons. There¡¯s a safehouse in it.¡± ¡°A shelter?¡± I asked. ¡°Myalis, you said there weren¡¯t any shelters in this town?¡± The safehouse she¡¯s alluding to is an underground location meant to house approximately twenty people in relative comfort. I do not consider that an appropriate shelter. ¡°How many people could fit in the headquarters?¡± I asked. I glanced across the parking lot and the little sports field on the other side of that. There were some homes in the way, but I could still make out the corporate headquarters. The building was maybe five stories tall, with a wall all around it. ¡°What do you think, Myalis, is that place safer than this school?¡± It is, though not by a huge margin. The defences around the headquarters are mostly to prevent and subdue riots. While that would theoretically work on a smaller Antithesis model, it wouldn¡¯t be effective. The walls might slow an adversary down though, and funnel them to the main entrance. There is a bit more room across all the floors for more people as well. Fewer supplies though. I nodded. ¡°Okay! That¡¯s the new plan. Captain minion, tell your company big-wigs that a Samurai or three are heading over to the headquarters to protect them.¡± ¡°Really?¡± he asked. ¡°Yeah. You, and you, and you. Run inside, get us some volunteers. We¡¯re taking all the food we can get from this place. There¡¯s a cafeteria, right? A nurses¡¯ station? Yeah, we¡¯re taking everything with us. We¡¯ll walk over.¡± ¡°Just us?¡± the female cop asked. ¡°Huh? Nah, everyone. Those who can¡¯t walk we¡¯ll carry. It¡¯s like.. What, about a kilometer?¡± It¡¯s less than half of that. ¡°Half that,¡± I corrected. ¡°Pretty sure even a fatass could run that if you scare them enough. I need... six cops to help me....¡± I counted those that were left. There were three. Had one of them that I didn¡¯t point to run off? Well, whatever. ¡°Okay, we¡¯ll need volunteers.¡± ¡°Only certified personnel can ride in our vehicles,¡± Captain minion said. ¡°What? Says who?¡± I asked. ¡°Company policy.¡± I stared at him. ¡°Minion, did you miss the part where I¡¯m the asshole in charge now?¡± I pointed to the female cop. ¡°You seem less stupid, I¡¯m promoting you. You¡¯re now Minion Captain.¡± ¡°Uh, yes ma¡¯am?!¡± the officer said before snapping a quick salute. My decision had nothing to do with me liking the look of a girl in uniform. I nodded and stepped aside, then flicked through my augs until I found Gomorrah¡¯s contact info. It didn¡¯t even ring once before she answered. ¡°Got everything under control?¡± she asked. ¡°Probably,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m moving all these people from the school to the corporate headquarters. They have walls and defences in place already. I¡¯m sticking some turrets onto these cop cars too to keep people safe while we move. How¡¯re things on your end?¡± ¡°Fine. Haven¡¯t made that many more points. One moment.¡± I heard a distant explosion. ¡°Still making enough to justify the cost of these rockets. You said there was another samurai in town?¡± ¡°Yeah, any sight of them?¡± ¡°Not yet. I¡¯ll fly over your group once you get them moving. Try not to get people killed.¡± ¡°Hey now, only people I want to kill tend to die when I try to... I¡¯m not actually sure where I was going with that one. Anyway, see you in a bit, just keep the skies clear for us.¡± I hung up and finally walked into the school, my new minion captain on my heels. The inside looked... like a school in one of those shows. A big open hall with a trophy cabinet on one side, and what was obviously student-made art on the walls. There were pictures of graduates and a few banners hanging from the ceiling. I could almost imagine all the cookie-cutter characters gossiping and doing rural high school shit. Instead, there were dozens of people, some of them looking terrified, others trying to smile and laugh despite it all, and more of them fiddling with their phones or augs to keep distracted. A group of small kids were playing together to one side, making plenty of noise. ¡°Crap,¡± I said as I took in the number of people I¡¯d actually be responsible for. Nothing was ever simple. *** Chapter Fifty-Seven - Greedy Bits Chapter Fifty-Seven - Greedy Bits ¡°Sometimes, the greediest thing you can do, is to give unto others.¡± --Riches to Rags, a guide on Corporate Living *** ¡°Minion Captain,¡± I began. ¡°Why is this taking so long?¡± Initially, things had moved pretty quickly. People had started to rush about, the cops barking orders that were repeated by others. There seemed to be a local fire-brigade out and about, some twenty volunteers who were helping to organize things, and some others were assisting them too. I supposed that moments like these were make-or-break for a lot of people. I had stepped out, and with Myalis¡¯ help, bought three cat mecha. They were useful, mobile, and able to attack and defend fairly well as far as I could tell. That, and we could use them to corral people. They could even ¡®speak¡¯ in that they had speakers built in that I could shout at people with. I had considered turrets, but turrets could have been made by just about any corp out there. They didn¡¯t serve to remind people that there was a samurai on the scene, it just said ¡®hey, the cops have even more guns than usual,¡¯ and that was the opposite of reassuring. They also weren¡¯t mobile, and while they had more firepower-per-point, I figured being able to move was more important. New Purchase: P.U.S.S. Model Y - Security Mechs - Combat Models - Three Points reduced to... 35 We¡¯d just need to stay mum about the name. So, things had started off well. The cat-bots were suitably impressive, there weren¡¯t any aliens coming around to chow on the civvies, and things were moving. ¡°Well?¡± I asked my newly appointed minion. The police woman hesitated. ¡°We¡¯re nearly done. We were going to just move everyone as one big group, but, ah, we ran into issues?¡± ¡°Issues?¡± I repeated. She shrugged. ¡°People want to arrive at the headquarters in order of seniority. Others want to make sure the children are safest. There¡¯s some fighting upstairs.¡± I wanted to pinch my brow. ¡°Everyone knows that if we don¡¯t get moving soon, everyone here will become alien chow, right?¡± She took a moment before nodding. ¡°Right,¡± I muttered. I stepped past her and into the lobby. ¡°Myalis, can you connect me to the intercom?¡± Certainly. I cleared my throat, and the sound of it carried across the entire lobby. I could even hear it on the floors above. ¡°Okay everyone. Form a line right here in the lobby, three people thick. Keep your children close, and try to help those you can, we¡¯re leaving. Not in ten minutes, not in five. Right now. If I have to come back to pick your sorry ass up later, I will be making you regret it.¡± It took a second or two for people to snap to it, but soon enough we had a line forming up with minimal shoving and pushing. ¡°Alright! Let¡¯s move,¡± I said. I took the lead, and noticed the cops running ahead a bit and forming something of a cordon. One of them had already moved some of the cars that would be in our way. The cat-bots paced along the sides, glowing mechanical eyes glaring out at the town and back-mounted guns shifting around. ¡°Minion Captain, take the lead,¡± I called out to the police woman before stepping to the side when we reached the field behind the school. The line stretched back a ways. It wasn¡¯t exactly inconspicuous to have that many people walking along, and there was plenty of coughing and a murmur of nervous conversation, but no one was screaming or shouting. I wasn¡¯t going to jinx myself by saying that it was going well, but so far, I could see the plan working. A hum from above had me looking up to see Gomorrah¡¯s Fury hover near the school¡¯s roof. I waved her way, but doubted she¡¯d noticed. If anything came up, she could tell me about it. Or just bomb it from the air. Either-or would be helpful. I felt something like a fist in my chest, twisting just under my ribs. Stress, maybe? I¡¯d heard all about that before. The corps hated it when some rando employee got too stressed and showed up at work with a 3D printed assault rifle, so there was tons of shitty ads about dealing with that kind of thing. I eyed the people moving in, then started following after the head of the group. So far, no aliens. I could live with that. ¡°Captain minion,¡± I said as I caught up with the police girl. ¡°When everyone is in the headquarters, we¡¯ll need to keep them all calm, think your force will be able to handle that?¡± Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°NeoPinkerton subjugation officers all have to take pre-emptive deescalation classes,¡± she said. ¡°We should be able to handle a few rowdy people.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I replied. ¡°Just settle people down, reassure them that there are samurai around who are eager to kill some xenos, then share whatever food and water you have. Maybe Myalis can set up a livestream from Gomorrah¡¯s Fury. Seeing the aliens get turned to giblets might calm people down.¡± ¡°I... don¡¯t know if everyone would be calmed down by that kind of thing,¡± she said. I shrugged. ¡°It would work on me.¡± Being at the front of the crowd meant that we were the first to arrive at the headquarters. The building was one of those places designed to look good on a pamphlet. The front had this big cement pillar, curved in at an angle and with a skeletal framework wrapped around it. All of that covered in mirrored glass. I could only-just make out the fountain in the middle of the space beneath, some modern-art statue that looked like nothing and that probably had a descriptive plaque welded to it with text written by some wordy English Major. It was an entirely meaningless shape, surrounded by architecture that was just as useless. The rest of the building was good old brutalist. Square and plain. I much preferred that kind of look. You could always trust a square. The fence around the building was decorated to look a bit less like a fence, with curvy bits of metal on the outside and spiked bars above instead of barbed wire. The gate though, was just a massive slab of steel, one that was slowly opening as we approached. There were weapon emplacements all along the fenceline. Mostly sonic-weapons. There were more conventional kinetic weapons within. A glance inside revealed quaint little statuettes at even intervals along the inside. They had benches next to them, and little water fountains for drinking. I¡¯d bet a couple of credits that those were to hide the guns they¡¯d use on anyone dumb enough to riot. A man ran out of the compound in full gear. Armoured chestpiece and hard-plastic plates over his arms and thighs. He even had a half-visored helmet on. ¡°Hello,¡± he said as he came closer. ¡°Are you the samurai?¡± ¡°I¡¯m one of them,¡± I said. ¡°There should be three of us here. Gomorrah¡¯s in the muscle car. No clue where the third one is.¡± ¡°And you want to bring all of these employees into the headquarters?¡± he asked. His jaw set. I sighed. There was the trouble I was expecting. ¡°Yeah. Looks a whole hell of a lot safer in here.¡± The corpo cop paused. ¡°Very well. We have authority from the higher-ups to allow any citizen of Black Bear into the headquarters. As long as they stay out of certain areas and remain calm, there shouldn¡¯t be an issue.¡± ¡°Stay out of what areas?¡± I asked. ¡°Research and Development, on floor three, the server rooms in the basement, and the NeoPinkerton armoury on the first floor. We¡¯re collapsing cubicles on most of the office floors to make more room already.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± I said. That sounded... reasonable. ¡°Well, okay then. I¡¯ll be leaving three of my mecha cats with you guys. They should help if any aliens break past the walls, which they might.¡± The man nodded. ¡°Thank you. We could use more AA support. The best we have are a few anti-drone countermeasures on the roof, but that¡¯s the best we¡¯ve got against flying targets.¡± ¡°Uh, I¡¯ll talk to Gomorrah, then.¡± You seem confused. I nodded to the cops, then tapped the side of my head in the universal ¡®I¡¯m on a call¡¯ sign before backing away. The civvies were already filing in, escorted by a few more guards in armour who ran out to funnel them into the headquarters. ¡°I was expecting... corpo fuckery,¡± I said. Humans can be vindictive, needlessly cruel and can lack empathy at the worst times. But they are generally quite good when it comes to doing what they think is in their best interest. Sometimes that math works out to meaning that the best thing to do in any given moment, is to help those they can as best they can. In this case, some of the administrators of this company judged that assisting their workers would mean that those same workers would be able to return to work sooner, and with less ill-will against the corporation as a whole. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. ¡°It really helps when you point out where the greedy bits are in all of this.¡± You¡¯re welcome! Chapter Fifty-Eight - Gimmick Chapter Fifty-Eight - Gimmick ¡°Not all samurai have a gimmick, but nearly all of them do. These sometimes form from necessity or preference. A samurai adopting a certain kind of weaponry might specialize in that. Others prefer taking a certain role, and will purchase equipment according to that. Still others will find a theme, and over time, will push and develop that to its sometimes illogical extreme.¡± --Fa-Fa-Fashionista, On The Evolution of Trends, 2057 *** ¡°Cat?¡± I jumped a little at the sound of my name. It didn¡¯t take much more than a second to place the voice though. Gomorrah, talking to me through my augs. ¡°Yeah?¡± I asked. I was stationed just outside of the headquarters in the middle of town, watching the last of the civilians running over. A few other families, and the rare single person, had been joining the file of people filtering into the big building behind me. That meant that there were probably still hundreds of people in the town. I¡¯d need to figure out a way to gather them all up and bring them over to the headquarters. Easier said than done, I figured. ¡°Cat, I found the third Samurai. He¡¯s livestreaming things from the east-end of town.¡± ¡°Seriously?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s where the antithesis are mostly coming from. It¡¯s probably for the best, actually, the headquarters aren¡¯t too far from the eastern edge of the town, so anyone who wants to find cover will have him between them and most of the aliens.¡± I nodded along. ¡°We still need to let people know.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been working on it,¡± she said. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Do you think I¡¯ve been sitting up here enjoying the Fury¡¯s AC and twiddling my thumbs? Atyacus and I broke into all the televisions and phones and augs we could reach in Black Bear and have been directing people over to the company headquarters. I might have to swing around to escort some of the groups closer to the edges, they¡¯re too far to be able to run over here.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. It was easy to forget that I wasn¡¯t the only samurai around. ¡°So now what? We sit pretty and snipe at any aliens coming our way?¡± ¡°I was thinking you could head over to our new samurai friend. We both know how great you are at making nice with people,¡± Gomorrah said without a hint of sarcasm. She was pretty good at the whole deadpan thing, though. I nodded along. ¡°Fair enough. It¡¯ll mean being closer to the action too. I¡¯ll leave my cats here to guard the headquarters. Worst case scenario, none of us should be too far away. Do you think Atyacus and Myalis can work together to keep an eye on the civvies?¡± ¡°They should be able to manage. Especially if your drones are around to see any antithesis before they cause any trouble.¡± ¡°Right then.¡± I shifted my shoulders and looked about. Most of the civilians on the street were running over. The last of the line had filed in and only the stragglers remained. The cops had mostly gathered out by the front of the headquarters, some of them were passing out riot armour and shotguns and such. They were gearing up for a protracted siege. I bet there were a few folk in the headquarters who would be willing to volunteer to man the walls as it were, but so far there hadn¡¯t been all that many aliens to deal with. ¡°I had some time to look things up. In situations like these, with a stealth hive, there tend to be some patrols of lower-level antithesis on the fringes. Then a lot more stronger ones closer to the middle of the hive. We might have trouble later.¡± ¡°Would they even come this way?¡± I asked. ¡°Sure, there¡¯s people for them to eat, but that¡¯s it. Aren¡¯t trees and grass and shit like that on the menu too?¡± Myalis was the one that replied. The antithesis tend to prioritize things. First taking out any threats, then subsuming any local biomass that isn¡¯t dangerous. It¡¯s why they tend to attack people in an area first before focusing on retrieving bodies and other sources of biomass. A stealth incursion tends to function under similar rules, though with a much greater degree of restraint and subtlety. ¡°Can¡¯t say I¡¯d call the antithesis subtle about anything,¡± I said. They might surprise you, then. And that surprise may well be deadly. I would encourage you to be more careful than usual, but your usual level of care is nearly nonexistent. I snorted. ¡°Fine. Gomorrah, I guess I should head out and meet our new friend first. Maybe we can create a barricade or something to stop the aliens from coming this way.¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Our goal is to kill them, not just keep them out of the town,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°We can go around murdering them after the town¡¯s properly secured,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s fair, I suppose. I¡¯ll be moving around and watching over the last civilians moving around. Keep in touch if you see anything strange, or, god willing, a miracle happens and you have a good idea.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± I muttered in reply. ¡°If you¡¯re done being snippy, I¡¯ll let you go.¡± ¡°Are you admonishing me for being snarky? It¡¯s half your personality.¡± I huffed. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s my gimmick. Yours is being a sexually repressed pyro-nun. You don¡¯t see me rubbing myself on people and then lighting them on fire while reciting verse, do you?¡± ¡°That... is a lot to unpack,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°But I think a blanket ¡®fuck you¡¯ would work as a reply.¡± I laughed as I cut the connection. I¡¯d have to think of some more insults as I walked. I stretched my back one way, then the other before finally setting off and around the headquarters¡¯ fence. ¡°Myalis, can you connect me to... uh, do the corpo cops have a number I can text?¡± They do. Here, most of them are connected to this chat system. My augs shifted and a chat box appeared, hovering before me. Plenty of chatter between different people, all of them with names like A-Green and M-Armstrong. I was tempted to snoop, see what they were saying, but all I could see were status reports and a few questions and answers being fired back and forth. Real professional stuff, without even a meme to liven it up. S-Cat: Will be heading east to meet other samurai and aliens. Keep me informed. Cats staying near headquarters. I waited until I got a few affirmatives, then minimized the chat box so that it was out of the way. It was time, at long last, to be stealthy. I shifted my Icarus grenade launcher so that it was tucked under my long coat, then I brought my Whisper around so that the crossbow was cradled against my chest. And then I activated all of my stealth things. My coat warped then went invisible. I was now little more than feet and hands and a big crossbow. Presumably a head and helmet as well. I tugged my coat on tighter and kept on walking. From the glimpses I caught in the windows of the homes and little businesses I passed, I wasn¡¯t impossible to notice, but I certainly wasn¡¯t as visible as I would have been otherwise. ¡°Not as stealthy as I¡¯d want,¡± I said. You could be better, yes. You¡¯re mostly hidden, visually, but the parts of you that aren¡¯t will give away your position. You can also be identified using other senses. Many antithesis can sense changes in air pressure, others can sense heat, and of course acute hearing is quite common across many models. And that only covers some of the more basic senses. ¡°Hmm,¡± I muttered. ¡°Yeah, I guess that¡¯ll be the next step. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s shit for that?¡± Of course. The solutions that cover every possibility do tend to be a little more expensive. Unless this incursion is far more profitable than I predict, I don¡¯t think that kind of expense would be in your best interest. ¡°Bit by bit then,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll patch whatever holes we find as they come up.¡± I shifted Whisper so that it was tucked against my shoulder and approached the next corner a little more cautiously. The streets here were vacant, some ads behind glass storefronts still playing, and the single red light strung over the intersection blinked, but otherwise there wasn¡¯t much of note. Black Bear felt weird. Maybe that was just me being a city girl though. The place was more open than I was used to, with no hovercar traffic and buildings that I could look up to without craning my neck back. I kind of expected to see cows or whatever there was in the countryside, but I figured this wasn¡¯t quite that kind of place. ¡°Myalis, can you slip into the town¡¯s cameras and such?¡± There isn¡¯t much as far as security infrastructure goes. ¡°That¡¯s alright. I just want to have more eyes around us. Do you know where that other samurai is?¡± The Vanguard is just ahead. My ears twitched as I started to hear something. It was... music. Heavy metal music, interspersed by the grumble of a chainsaw. I started to feel somewhat concerned. *** Chapter Fifty-Nine - Cause Player Chapter Fifty-Nine - Cause Player ¡°Lord VPN! We guarantee that your data and search history are secured! A percentage of all proceeds obtained from selling your data will be returned to you at the end of every month! Join now with code ¡®Glorius CCP¡¯ and obtain three months completely free!¡± --An ad for Lord VPN, 2051 *** I snuck up to the next corner, back bent and body low until I was right up to the intersection. The buildings here were mostly homes. The sort of pre-built bungalow with a little picket-fence yard that a lot of people probably dreamed of retiring in. It was just too bad that they were right on the edge of town. Well, maybe the owners had insurance. I didn¡¯t know much about home ownership. My ears did an alright job of painting a picture of what was going on around the corner, but that picture was... confusing. Someone was fighting with a trio of aliens. Model Threes, the little dog-like ones with the spiney backs and mouths that were too big for comfort. The Model Threes were rushing at a man who sounded large and who moved with sharp, sudden bursts of speed to bring a heavy bar around. The roar of a chainsaw didn¡¯t leave much to the imagination as to what, exactly, he was using as a weapon. I figured anyone murdering aliens in hand-to-hand was an ally. I came around the corner and raised Whisper to take a shot, but before I could really get to aiming my new chainsaw buddy spun around, threw the corpse of one alien at another, then stabbed his saw into the third¡¯s head. Bits of antithesis splattered onto the ground, turned into so much chunky puree by the roaring blade. The samurai was a tall dude, covered in plates of army-green armour that looked scuffed, and that left his biceps exposed. He worked out. Or maybe he cheated with the tech, but either way, the results were the same. His arms were as thick around as my head and looked like they were straining against his armour. The way his armour segmented over his chest gave the impression that he had abs too. If I wasn¡¯t gay, I¡¯d think he looked pretty hot. ¡°Yo!¡± I called out. The dude glanced my way, then completely ignored me as he walked over to the two alien bodies squirming a few meters away. One of them was still alive. He dropped his chainsaw, and the weapon faded into motes before hitting the ground. A projection? Or maybe some sort of nano bullshittery? It was definitely some alien gear. Reaching over his back, he closed his hand over empty air then pulled a shotgun from nowhere. I wasn¡¯t well-versed in guns, but even I recognized a double-barrel. His was cartoonishly large. He pumped it--why hadn¡¯t he materialized it already loaded?--lowered the barrel to point it at the head of the last living Model Three, then fired. I flinched back at the noise. I was used to gunshots. His shotgun was an order of magnitude louder than anything I¡¯d ever fired. It did the job though. I stepped to the side as a bit of Model Three rolled by. The big guy shifted his shoulders, then turned to face me. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he rumbled. I shrugged--realized he couldn¡¯t see my shoulders--then spoke up. ¡°It¡¯s all good,¡± I said. ¡°Came over to see how things were going.¡± ¡°So, you¡¯re the backup?¡± ¡°I guess so? More like I¡¯m the cavalry.¡± He huffed, a sort of macho one-note laugh. ¡°Right. Give me a moment.¡± Turning, the big guy looked up just as a small drone zipped closer. It was a tiny golden thing, no bigger than a marble with a pair of little wings fluttering on the sides. ¡°We will be taking a small break everyone. Take the time to visit my merch store, or listen to these ads by today¡¯s sponsors... Lord VPN... Once we return, the carnage shall resume. Rip and tear friends.¡± The dude paused, then his shoulders slumped and he turned to me. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s done,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re livestreaming?¡± I asked before I glanced around. We were standing pretty much in the centre of an intersection. The road past the samurai led off and out of town and into the woods surrounding Black Bear. ¡°Yeah, got to make a living, you know? I¡¯m Cause Player.¡± I stared at him. ¡°Your name¡¯s what?¡± He shifted, shotgun dropping and evaporating before it even hit the ground. ¡°I¡¯m Cause Player. It¡¯s... a name. I do cosplay.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I replied, because what the hell else was I supposed to say? Lucy mentioned cosplay a few times. She followed some girls that dressed up... well, really, they weren¡¯t usually wearing much, but what they did have on belonged to some game or another. ¡°Are you cosplaying something right now?¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°You don¡¯t recognize me?¡± I placed a hand on my hip. ¡°Oh yeah, totally. I know all the macho armour-wearing shooty dude characters.¡± I had the impression he wasn¡¯t too amused. ¡°This is Doom Guy.¡± ¡°Wow, that name¡¯s worse than yours.¡± ¡°What are you here for? My ads are about to finish and I need to get back to work.¡± I raised my hands in surrender. ¡°Alright, sorry. Uh, mostly here to figure out what¡¯s going on. I haven¡¯t been running into any aliens at all. You seem luckier than me.¡± ¡°I have a tool that attracts them,¡± he said. ¡°It doesn¡¯t work on most models, but these little ones will charge right over. I¡¯ve been killing any of those that come into town. It¡¯s been pretty quiet so far. Little groups every few minutes.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°Well, we evacuated most of the civvies to the company headquarters and armed it up. Cat mechs and all.¡± ¡°Stray Cat, right?¡± he asked. ¡°Oh right, yeah, that¡¯s me. Just call me Cat. You looked me up?¡± ¡°I saw the memes.¡± I paused, working over the implications of that. Memes? Plural? No, I didn¡¯t want to know. ¡°Okay then. So you¡¯re going to stay here?¡± ¡°Around here? I¡¯m patrolling to keep the area safe. Give people time to leave. I marked a few places where there were more people, and I sighted a Model Nine but it left before I could catch up to it. They¡¯re fast little things.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen a Model Nine,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s probably normal, they¡¯re stealth models,¡± Cause Player said. ¡°They look like long insects.¡± ¡°They going to be a problem?¡± I asked. ¡°Probably,¡± he said. ¡°But I¡¯m more worried about the other models. Not too many of them coming around, but there are enough that I¡¯d rather stay on top of them.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. I eyed the street, then the woods beyond. They looked rather ominous, what with their trees and... plants and stuff. I was definitely not a country girl. ¡°Crap, I¡¯m not sure what to do from here.¡± Cause Player shrugged. ¡°There are some civilians around. You could help them. I¡¯m more of a solo-player. And having someone else on my livestream might wreck the viewer¡¯s immersion. So... yeah. If you want to help, maybe find the Model Nine¡¯s mini-hives?¡± ¡°Mini-hives?¡± I asked. ¡°That sounds like a nightmare.¡± ¡°They are,¡± he said. ¡°Ask your AI. I need to get back to the show.¡± I rubbed at the back of my neck. ¡°Right, fine.¡± If he wanted to play actor for his crowd, that was on him. As long as he was still killing aliens I figured it wasn¡¯t any problem of mine. Dude needed to make a living too. ¡°Myalis, Model Nines, they going to be a problem?¡± All antithesis models are problems on some level. Model Nines are, interestingly, the model that tends to irritate more veteran Vanguard the most. They are particularly adept at avoiding detection, and often require a ¡®boots on the ground¡¯ approach to be discovered and eliminated. ¡°Hmm,¡± I said before turning back towards Cause Player. ¡°I¡¯m going to head back to the headquarters then, maybe try to herd some civilians back that way too. If you need anything, you call me or Gomorrah, alright? She¡¯s got a cool ride, and can probably be here in a matter of seconds.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. He actually sounded sincere there. ¡°I should be able to hold my own for a while. This isn¡¯t the best point farm, but it¡¯s not all bad.¡± ¡°Yeah, cool,¡± I said. I saluted him, then stepped back. I really needed a better invisibility system so that I could just disappear entirely. It would make for a cool exit. ¡°Think you could point me towards the biggest group of locals that aren¡¯t safe?¡± I can do that. I¡¯ll try to verify if I can see any Model Nines moving into town. They tend to be difficult to find via artificial means. ¡°How come?¡± I asked. Their skin and fur can change colours and textures, similar to the Earth-native chameleon, though they are significantly better at it. They can also change shapes thanks to the way their prehensile fur is made. They are cold blooded, so infra-red has difficulty seeing them, and they can release small spores from their down-fur that float in the air and will frequently give sensors false-positives. Sounded like fun. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t catch us a couple of them, then!¡± *** Chapter Sixty - M9 Chapter Sixty - M9 ¡°The traditional family unit may have been displaced as time progressed, but it never truly disappeared. A system by which a child had multiple guardians and siblings is still, in nearly every scenario, optimal. A child needs constant attention, and constant love to grow into a strong and capable adult. Sometimes, that requires more time than their parents can give them. This isn¡¯t because of a lack of love. That missing time is spent working hard to put a roof over your child¡¯s head and keeping them safe and fed. Perhaps all you need is something to help with the more mundane tasks of raising a child?¡± --Nannyco Robotics ad, 2047 *** I glanced at my map of Black Bear really quick as I jogged along. Myalis had marked a few spots to check around town, mostly places where she¡¯d seen civilians gathering. I wanted to get them moving to safety, but I was also on the look-out for nearly-invisible ambush aliens. Which I figured wasn¡¯t going to end with me finding any of them. ¡°Where to next?¡± I asked as I shot past an intersection. There wasn¡¯t any traffic, so I only gave a quick glance each way before crossing the road. It was a good thing too, it let me see some movement down the street a little ways. ¡°Scratch that.¡± There was a small family milling around a van. An ugly old thing from the late 2030s. All curved and filled with unnecessary plastic body parts, and very much unable to hover. In a small town like this though, that was probably fine. There was a ramp extending out of the side of the vehicle, and what looked like an entire family was gathered around it. It looked like some picture-perfect bunch. The mom, dad, and a boy and girl who were in their younger teens. It would have been picture perfect if the dad-looking guy wasn¡¯t in a wheelchair, his kids fussing with him, while the mother ran around in a panic. ¡°Yo,¡± I said as I approached. No one noticed me. That didn¡¯t bode well. What if I was an alien? Then again, I was supposed to be stealthy, so I chalked it up to me just being that good before I scream. ¡°Yo!¡± The kids and the dad jumped and spun around, looking for me. Then they started yammering as I walked closer. I flicked off my coat¡¯s invisibility just as the dad finagled a rifle from inside the van. He paused in the act of fiddling with the safety and looked my way. ¡°You¡¯re not an alien.¡± ¡°I¡¯m one-hundred percent mostly human,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± ¡°Oh, shit, she¡¯s a samurai,¡± the girl said. She couldn¡¯t be older than thirteen or so, about the age of my kittens. ¡°Sweetie, don¡¯t swear,¡± the mother said. I don¡¯t know what she was talking about, the woman looked like she desperately needed a chill pill and maybe a margarita. ¡°It¡¯s alright?¡± I asked. ¡°You folks okay?¡± ¡°Who are you?¡± The dad asked. I didn¡¯t actually know if they were a family, but if they weren¡¯t the resemblance was uncanny, and absent any actual names, that¡¯s what I was going to label them as. ¡°I¡¯m Stray Cat. Your kid¡¯s right, I¡¯m a samurai. Just looking for stragglers. You folk should head over to the company headquarters, we have a samurai guarding the place already.¡± ¡°Oh, wow,¡± the son said. His sister looked like I¡¯d just announced that Christmas was coming early. She whipped an old-school phone out, then frowned at its blank screen before stuffing it away. ¡°Yeah yeah, hero worship later. Your van¡¯s fucked?¡± ¡°Langu--¡± mom started. She paused, then swallowed thickly. ¡°The van won¡¯t start. It turns on, but I can¡¯t get it to move. And our phones stopped. Reginald can¡¯t walk anymore, not since he got hurt last year.¡± I nodded along. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, is this something we can fix in a hurry, or are we going to escort this lot around?¡± It seems like the ground vehicles in this town all require a registry code to function. A DRM sent from somewhere in town. Something is likely interfering, or the company has shut it down, thereby preventing the vehicle from working at all. ¡°Can you fix it?¡± I asked. Certainly. The van rumbled to life and the family jumped. ¡°Mom, it¡¯s working!¡± the girl said. ¡°There you go,¡± I said. ¡°It was just some software fuc--fudgery. Uh, you should be good to go? Head right towards the headquarters. It¡¯s not too far.¡± ¡°Will we be safe there?¡± the mom asked. ¡°You should be. I doubt Gomorrah will be pleased if they don¡¯t let someone in.¡± I moved over and helped the kids push their dad back up into the back of the van. ¡°You good to drive?¡± ¡°I am, thank you,¡± the mom said. The lot of them tossed their stuff back into their car in a hurry, then they were off. She actually stopped at the intersection and used her flashers to signal her turn. I shook my head. ¡°That was nice; next group?¡± This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Two blocks over. I¡¯ll mark it on your map. I stared, then groaned as I realized the van had gone that way already. I could have hitched a ride. I flicked my coat back on and took off once more. It got boring within ten steps. I could only get so much joy from seeing the shadow of my head bobbing on the pavement before that grew old. ¡°Where are all the damned aliens?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve killed a single one yet.¡± There should be no lack of them in the region, but the Antithesis have little need to fight and kill the locals for biomass when there is so much still available naturally. Until the main hive is destroyed, it¡¯s likely that the local swarm will keep a low profile. ¡°Which means we might be here a while. We¡¯re going to need to evacuate the entire town to someplace else.¡± And scour the entire region. ¡°No chance that someone will decide to just nuke us?¡± I asked. That would be exceptionally irresponsible. And while temporarily effective, it would likely spread some Antithesis elements far and wide. Radioactive ones. ¡°That sounds awful,¡± I said. Also, as a matter of common sense, we strongly discourage the use of weapons of mass destruction on a planet upon which your entire race resides. ¡°Common sense never stopped humanity before,¡± I said. Your race isn¡¯t unique in its idiocy, I¡¯m afraid. Most others that have gone as far as humanity usually die out along the way. ¡°So you¡¯re saying we¡¯re tough?¡± I asked. I was saying you¡¯re idiots, but if you wish to read it that way, I will not stop you. I laughed as I picked up the pace. My laugh froze in my throat as I came around a corner and saw the same van that had just moved away from me stopped at the end of the street. It was parked in the middle of a lawn, a fire-hydrant spraying water up in a fountain. Had the mom been distracted? I didn¡¯t even hear the crash. Or maybe I had and had simply ignored it. I was used to a city¡¯s worth of noise. A distant bang barely registered. I had to pay more attention. I might not have fought any aliens yet, but that didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t around. Jogging over to the van, I expected to see the family moving about, maybe a bit disorientated. I had plenty of points to get some medical stuff if it came to that. Instead, halfway down the street, I noticed the blood splashed across the inside of the windows. Wait. I stopped, then started to look around. If Myalis told me to wait, there was a damned good reason for it, she wasn¡¯t the sort to stop me from racing over to help someone. My gaze travelled across the street, looking for something, the black of an antithesis, maybe some monster lurking in the shadows. I found plain homes, some with manicured lawns with little bushes, others looking a bit rougher around the edges. There wasn¡¯t much space between the homes, but they each had a little lot. Cars sat useless in driveways and some of the homes had lights on. Stealth units. My back-mounted guns unfolded, both of them coming to rest just over my shoulders. They scanned across the street. ¡°I want to check in on them,¡± I said. Go ahead. I am trying to see the Model Nine. Myalis not being able to see the monster wasn¡¯t filling me with confidence. I walked over to the van, eyes shifting around, searching for anything. The wind shifted, blowing across the leaves of one of the few trees around, and the grass, and the bushes which twisted around. My heart skipped a beat. Spinning around, I raised Whisper. It was far too slow. The bush launched itself at me, entirely silent. My plasma caster spat a torrent of burning pellets at the creature, but it couldn¡¯t track fast enough. A claw crashed into my crossbow, then two more smacked into a pair of hexagonal disks that flashed into existence before me. Those would have eviscerated me. I stumbled back, dropping my crossbow and finally taking in the Model Nine as it regained its footing. It looked... like a bush. Leaves and branches. But not really. The leaves were fur, too puffy and made of thin woven strands. The branches were more like additional limbs sticking out of a thin, muscular body. I couldn¡¯t see its eyes, but I could make out the black claws at the ends of its many limbs. None more than a couple of centimeters long, some of them bloody. I whipped out my Trench Maker just as the Model Nine jumped again. Three barks sounded out as I fired into the Model Nine from point blank range. The alien crashed to the ground. ¡°What... what the hell,¡± I swore. *** Chapter Sixty-One - Mimics Chapter Sixty-One - Mimics ¡°You shouldn¡¯t believe just anyone¡¯s claims that they¡¯re a samurai. It is surprisingly easy to fake it. One notable story is that of Snapdragon, the alias of a young man who obtained some basic body armour and some cosplaying supplies, then created a samurai persona for himself. This isn¡¯t entirely uncommon, and there are events and groups that ¡®play¡¯ at being samurai. Snapdragon took it one step further by patrolling the streets and even participating in the periphery of some incursions. He was discovered to be faking it when a group of Antithesis overran the position he was guarding and he was unable to procure more weapons or ammunition as samurai so often do. Seventy-eight civilians died. Be wary of false claimants, and don¡¯t be afraid to ask for proof. Most samurai will provide some evidence of authenticity if asked.¡± --Extract from ¡®A Concerned Citizen¡¯ series of pamphlets distributed in 2035 *** Targets Eliminated! Reward... 25 Points I panted for a bit, heart beating away in my chest as if I¡¯d just spent twenty quality minutes with Lucy instead of just lightly jogging around. A ten-second fight with an alien did that, I supposed. ¡°Shit,¡± I said for a lack of any better response. I walked to the side a bit, then moved back towards the dead alien. The Model Nine looked like someone had dropped a potted plant on the street. ¡°Shit,¡± I repeated. You¡¯re distressed. More so that I¡¯d expect from you after an ambush. I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said. ¡°Just... it spooked me is all.¡± I glanced at the real reason I wasn¡¯t feeling all that great. The minivan was just a few dozen meters away. The water pouring from the busted hydrant was slowing down, and over that I could just make out the car¡¯s engine still rumbling away. ¡°Shit.¡± Third time now. I bent over and scooped Whisper up as I started towards the van. A quick look over the crossbow didn¡¯t reveal anything obviously wrong with it. Maybe a nick in the paint? Nothing terrible. I set the crossbow against my shoulder and started moving closer to the minivan, looking around for more trouble. Any bushes that gave me a weird look were going to get shot. The van¡¯s doors were all closed, but the passenger side window was broken. I held my breath then looked in. Four bodies. I didn¡¯t stare for all that long, but it was enough to know that none of them were alive. The Model Nine had hit me like a demented blender, all claws and striking limbs. I couldn¡¯t imagine fighting it stuck inside an enclosed space without any fancy gear. I didn¡¯t need to imagine the results of fighting in close quarters. Felt a little sick, honestly. ¡°Myalis, let¡¯s move on,¡± I said. ¡°Where¡¯s the next group of civilians?¡± One block north, to the left at the next intersection. A group is moving on foot. I nodded and started jogging over. There was no way people on foot could do anything against another Model Nine, not if one of them could wreck a car. Well, not wreck a car but... whatever. I¡¯ve found three Model Nine¡¯s in your vicinity. My boots scrapped the ground as I stopped and started looking around, Whisper already tucked into my shoulder. ¡°Where?¡¯ Pardon me, English is an imprecise language. By vicinity I mean within two to three hundred meters of your current location. I have been observing the area and noting any visual artefacts caught on camera. Comparing the before-and-after images occasionally reveals new objects that are likely Model Nines. ¡°Anything I can shoot?¡± I asked. I was getting into a shooty mood. Nothing in your line of sight. The civilians are approaching one of them. It is currently disguised as a standing mailbox. I didn¡¯t even take time to swear, I just took off running. Grabbing Whisper¡¯s strap, I flung it over my shoulder, then tugged my Icarus from under my coat. The crossbow was a weapon designed to take out targets from afar, sure, but it was a precision weapon. The grenade launcher had a whole other sort of precision to it. ¡°High explosive,¡± I said as I tucked the launcher against my shoulder. I could see the civilians, maybe a dozen of them in all. Some had rifles with them, but I doubted those would help. A few turned around. Maybe they saw my head? My footfalls weren¡¯t making much noise. ¡°Hey!¡± One called out. I ignored him to scan the road ahead. Trees, some bushes, a few cars waiting in driveways. There, near the middle of the road. A bright red box, nearly perfectly square and standing on four legs, but the logos on the side were only vague splotches and the legs were at a bit of an odd angle. The more I looked at it, the more it stood out as wrong. Not so wrong that I would have given it a second glance if I was driving by or anything though. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. I raised my Icarus until the line projected over my vision landed right at the base of it. I tugged the trigger back. Firing while running meant missing. At least with my aim it did. Which is why explosives were the best. The fake mailbox, the sidewalk next to it, and a chunk of the grass next to that burst apart. Clods of dirt and Antithesis bits rained down across the road. The civilians screamed. Targets Eliminated! Reward... 25 Points ¡°Any others?¡± I asked as I looked around for anything weird. Strange bushes, weird mailboxes, talking animals, anything that stood out, but the place just looked like a mundane street, albeit one with a new crater in it. ¡°Who are you?¡± one of the civilians asked. He was pointing a gun at the ground between us. Nothing in the immediate area. I nodded and lowered Icarus. Didn¡¯t need to spook anyone into shooting me. ¡°Hey. You guys heading to the headquarters?¡± The civilians looked to each other. ¡°Who are you?¡± the one in the lead asked again. ¡°Friendly... friendly-ish neighbourhood samurai,¡± I said. ¡°Sorry about the explosion, that mailbox was an alien.¡± They didn¡¯t believe it. I¡¯d lied poorly before. It was one of those things you had to get good at as a poor crippled orphan kid, and to get better at lying, you had to know when someone didn¡¯t buy it. Which was kind of insulting. I was partially invisible and had a big gun. Did they need me to hack into their augs to announce myself too? Obviously it was the mailbox thing that stretched their believability. I flicked off the invisibility on my coat again and tucked my launcher away. Didn¡¯t need to give anyone a reason to twitch. ¡°I¡¯m Stray Cat. Based out of New Montreal. I¡¯m here with a few others, we¡¯re securing the civilians around here.¡± Guns lowered some more. ¡°Was there really a xeno behind the mailbox?¡± the guy I assumed as in charge asked. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. Close enough. ¡°Where are you guys headed?¡± ¡°The old arena. A bunch of us are heading that way. It¡¯s our meeting place for when things go wrong.¡± He rubbed the back of his hand across his nose. ¡°Can you tell us how things are going?¡± ¡°In Black Bear? Alright? Some casualties, but not that many.¡± I held myself together fairly well, I figured. ¡°The incursion near here¡¯s really small. We¡¯ll have some heavy hitters around soon, but we don¡¯t want normal folk out and about when that happens.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t go to the headquarters. Most of us are sub-contractors.¡± ¡°I... don¡¯t see why that should matter?¡± I said. ¡°The company doesn¡¯t like us interfering with their things,¡± he explained. ¡°We live here, but half the town¡¯s basically off-limits to us.¡± Some of the folk behind him nodded, and I started to notice that they weren¡¯t all dressed to the nines. It was the middle of the day, sure, and I didn¡¯t expect people dressed to impress, but these people were all in jeans and... well, normal clothes that had been worn before. Not poor, but not far from it, maybe? ¡°Look, the company doesn¡¯t like you interfering, but they¡¯d really hate it if I did. There¡¯s another samurai by the headquarters guarding it, Gomorrah. She¡¯s the nun with the flamethrower. She¡¯s very good at turning the unrighteous into charcoal, and she wouldn¡¯t leave a bunch of people waiting outside for the aliens to nab them. If the company gives you trouble later, you just reach out to me, alright?¡± That seemed to work. I figured I¡¯d press my momentum while I had it and I took off ahead of them, heading towards the headquarters. It was only a couple of blocks away. ¡°Myalis, can you get one of my cats to come over? It can escort them the rest of the way once it gets here. Also, where¡¯s the old arena?¡± Your P.U.S.S. Model Y is on route. As for the old arena, it¡¯s not on any of the official maps, but I suspect it¡¯s this building here. A building flashed on my map. Some older social media feeds call it the town arena. It predates the corporate acquisition of the town, and doesn¡¯t seem to have been in use since. ¡°Well then, I guess we know more or less where we¡¯re heading to next,¡± I said. Chapter Sixty-Two - Arena Chapter Sixty-Two - Arena ¡°The best thing you can do when there are aliens about is keep low, and keep your head on straight. It¡¯s the best way to stay alive.¡± --Deus Ex, 2054 *** As soon as one of my cat mechs joined the civilians, I ditched. Felt a little bad just leaving them behind, but they had a walking weapons platform watching over them now, and they were only a block away from the headquarters. A glance at the map to make sure I was heading in the right direction, and I continued on towards the arena. From what Myalis was able to pull up in a hurry, the old arena looked fairly secure. It was a pre-incursion building, but like, way before the incursions started. It had a cold-war era fallout shelter in the basement. Nothing up to modern code, I bet, but sometimes that wasn¡¯t a bad thing. No cameras on or around the building, which was annoying, but Myalis said that she could triangulate a lot of phone signals in the area that hadn''t been there a few hours before. People really were gathering there. I¡¯d be using that phone tracking trick again. There were still a few pockets of people around Black Bear. If we did our job right, they¡¯d be safe if they had somewhere to lay low for a while, I figured. Still didn¡¯t want to risk it too much. Having everyone in one place made it easier to defend them all. Plus, more guns manning the figurative walls. It would suck if one of them had a cold and spread it around, but I¡¯d take that over aliens eating everyone any day of the week. I was just past the back of the headquarters when my augs told me I had an incoming call. Gomorrah. ¡°Yo,¡± I said. ¡°Hey,¡± she replied. ¡°I reached out to Deus Ex, to get some news about that orbital strike. I think she was sleeping, but her AI wasn¡¯t. It directed me to speak with someone from the Family.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. Made sense so far. Pipsqueak needed her naptime. ¡°Long and short of it is that they¡¯ll be bombing the area in about five minutes.¡± ¡°Five minutes!¡± I shouted. That was real fucking soon. I glanced at the sky but all I saw was a thick layer of grey, but that didn¡¯t mean they had to bomb the place now. ¡°The Vanguard I spoke to said the area of effect would only barely touch Black Bear. Though... Cat, I didn¡¯t have all that much confidence in the man from my one conversation with him. He sounded a bit stupid.¡± I paused. Was it wise to head out to the arena now? The headquarters looked a lot tougher and was closer to the centre of the city to boot. More buildings around it to serve as cover. But that would mean abandoning however many people were at the arena. ¡°Fuck. Look, I¡¯m going to join up with some folk, then try to get them all into cover. What are you doing?¡± I started to run ahead. Still looking around for Model Nines, but prioritizing getting my ass out of the blast radius more. ¡°I¡¯m landing Fury now. I want it safe from the blast. I¡¯ll be in the headquarters. I¡¯ll see what needs doing after that.¡± ¡°Right, did he tell you anything about what kind of bombardment we¡¯ll be dealing with here? Deus Ex said orbital, but that just means the bombs are coming from on high.¡± ¡°He said rods of god and some thermobaric explosives.¡± ¡°Fuel-air?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯re familiar?¡¯ Gomorrah asked. I could still vividly recall nearly cooking my eyebrows off a couple of days ago. ¡°Yeah. Bombs are my thing. Shit, are they sure it won¡¯t hit the town?¡± ¡°He mentioned skirting the edge of the town. Starting here, then working over to the actual hive to make any Antithesis move away from Black Bear. Or something like that, I¡¯m not sure I understood entirely.¡± ¡°Skirting? Skirting is close,¡± I said. ¡°Get to cover. We¡¯ll have to trust that our fellow samurai know what they¡¯re doing.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like trusting people I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, you got anything on this?¡± I¡¯m afraid not. I grumbled. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll get to cover with the civilians. Stay safe too, alright?¡± ¡°If you die I¡¯ll burn the one responsible, then scatter the ashes.¡± That... was morbid as hell, but also somehow really nice. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, genuinely meaning it. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. I found the arena off to one side of the town. A squat building, much longer than it was wide, with a tin roof painted some ugly green, and cement sides that rose up three meters off the ground. It looked a bit on the rustier side, and its age showed. Definitely something from the seventies. Plenty of cars parked around the lot, a few of them pressed up against the front to serve as barriers around the entrance. An entrance that was slightly ajar with no one guarding it. I looked around again, searching for a Model Nine, or maybe... anything that stood out as wrong. There wasn¡¯t anything. The cars were all older, maybe second hand, lots of repairs, the air didn¡¯t smell like gunpowder or anything like that. There was nothing wrong, yet I felt a shiver running down my spine. I flicked on my shoulder-mounted guns, tucked Icarus away, and pulled out my trusty Trench Maker. It was down a few rounds; had to keep that in mind. Moving forward, I paused by the door and strained my ears. Voices? No, screams, but distant, more than one person crying, one sounded like a baby. Something mechanical being racked, air conditioning units rumbling, people shouting confused orders back and forth. ¡°Shit,¡± I muttered as I stepped in. I swept my gun around, looking through the lobby as quickly as I could. Two bodies on the floor, looking like they¡¯d been torn into. Bite marks, mostly. Not a Model Nine then? I swallowed past the lump in my throat and moved on. Most of the noise was coming from deeper in. I had to wonder why. The forest nearby had to have plenty of critters in it. Rabbits and birds and squirrels and... were there wolves here? Deer. Definitely deer, I was pretty sure those weren¡¯t extinct. Point was, there had to be plenty of things to eat. And they were supposed to be able to eat plants and trees and the like. Why go after the people here? I got that they¡¯d spread around and eventually butt up against humanity, and I was fine with murdering them to the last. I just didn¡¯t get why they acted the way they did. Coming after a town like this when there was plenty to be had around it with less risk. Maybe I was overthinking it. Aliens had alien ways of thinking, big surprise. I licked my lips as I pushed into the next room over. It was a small space, a corridor with windows lining one side, looking into a hockey rink. No ice. Too warm for that, and the stands looked a bit dusty. No aliens that I could see. The corridor moved off a ways, and there were a few steps leading down at the end. I followed the noises, moving slowly, keeping quiet. Someone shot at something. First one shot, then two or three more. ¡°Shit,¡± I muttered before sprinting ahead. I bounced off the wall around the corner and found myself in another passageway. Locker rooms to one side, storage on the other, and a shit barricade at the end. Three Model Threes, running down the centre of the corridor. Another jumped out of one of the room¡¯s to the side. I cursed and ran forward. The plasma rifle on my shoulder opened fire, filling the air between us with flashing darts that pelted into the alien¡¯s backs and sides, burning pinky-wide holes into the aliens. I didn¡¯t bother firing at them with my Trench Maker. I¡¯d just miss. The aliens went down, and I slid to a stop before the door they¡¯d been coming out of. I came face to face with a Model Three climbing in through a broken window. It stared at me for just a moment before baring its teeth. My railgun painted a line in the air, dust kicked aside in a tunnel that passed through the alien¡¯s skull. ¡°Sound bomb,¡± I said. Myalis provided a resonator dropping before me so that I could catch it out of the air. I turned it on with a flick of my thumb and stepped into the room. An office. Dust to one side, old drawers to the other, ancient cathode-ray screen rotting in the corner. I underhanded the grenade outside and ran back into the corridor. At least I was finally getting some action, I reasoned as I ran to the end. Now I just had to try and keep folks alive too. *** Chapter Sixty-Three - Rod of God Chapter Sixty-Three - Rod of God ¡°There¡¯s no kill like overkill!¡± --Motto of the Family¡¯s unofficial Orbital Strike Squadron *** I spun around the corridor and took in everything. It only took a split second to figure out what was going on. There was a room at the far end of the corridor. Unadorned walls, thick, made of cement. The shelter. Before that were some doors, heavy metal things. Not vault doors, but the sort I¡¯d expect to see in a well-secured warehouse or at the front of someone paranoid¡¯s place. They¡¯d built a barricade in the middle of the corridor, but the people manning it weren¡¯t there. For good reason too. Three Model Threes, a single Model Four. The latter looked injured, some of its tentacles shorn off, and it looked to be bleeding. I raised my Trench Maker up, pointing it at the back of the nearest alien, the big Model Four. My railgun shifted, and my plasma caster turned to aim farther forward. My finger twitched over the trigger just as my railgun bucked. A spray of superheated plasma shot out ahead with a snake-like hiss. The four aliens went down in an instant. The one hit by the rail thumping to the ground, a coin-sized hole smoking in its flank and the front of its chest bust apart, the Model Four slumped to the ground, the holes I¡¯d poked into it with my Trench Maker the size of both my fists together, and the other two were partially aflame around the places where my plasma gun had peppered them with fire. Targets Eliminated! Reward... 85 Points I stuffed my Trench Maker into its holster and let that get to work reloading it while I stepped around the bodies slumped across the corridor. The guys running away kept running, but they were looking back, and soon their run turned from a desperate scramble to a confused jog. They stopped. ¡°Are you a samurai?¡± One of them asked. ¡°Yup,¡± I said. ¡°You guys okay?¡± There were some shared looks. ¡°We thought,¡± one began. ¡°We¡¯re okay,¡± another said, louder. He moved towards me, a gun in hand, but not pointed anywhere near me, and by the looks of it, the magazine was missing from it. It was only a hunting rifle though, all wood with a scope. These guys were armed, but not with anything fancy. I glanced around, taking in six or so more dead Antithesis. They¡¯d been holding them off, then. ¡°Did you see Bill?¡± the one walking over asked. ¡°And Ga¨¦tan and John?¡± ¡°Who¡¯s Bill?¡± I asked. ¡°He-- they were guarding the front door. Please, he¡¯s my son.¡± The guy looked old enough to be a dad. Maybe in his late fifties or so. ¡°I... fuck, there were two people by the doors, dead, sorry.¡± He reeled back, confusion and anger, then hope. ¡°Just two?¡± ¡°Fuck,¡± I said. ¡°Okay, everyone, get in the bunker, keep the doors closed until I come back. I¡¯ll knock. We need to get into cover soon, there¡¯s going to be a blast nearby. We can worry about other shit later, alright?¡± I didn¡¯t give them much time to protest, spinning on my heel to run back down the corridor. It was only a chance, but there might be some guy alive up there, and if he was, he¡¯d be caught in the blast.

WARNING?

You¡¯ve got a minute to get under cover. The Rods of God are dropping. -ZZ-Zeus?

¡°What?¡± I asked at the prompt that appeared before me. That was sent out to all communication devices within twenty kilometers of the hive¡¯s predicted location. I started running faster, the corridors blurring past until I was back in the lobby. Two bodies still, no other aliens. I was relying on my shoulder-mounted guns, mostly. I looked around, didn¡¯t see anyone else, then ducked outside. A blood trail gave it away. One I¡¯d missed earlier, heading off to the side and into the back of one of the cars pushed up against the side of the building. There was a dead Model Three there, slumped in the shadows next to the car. I walked over to the vehicle and peeked inside. There was someone on the backseat. Breathing hard, a hand wrapped around their leg where an inexpert tourniquet had been tied. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. He had a revolver in his other hand. I knocked on the window, then ducked to the side when he brought the gun up. ¡°Hey! Hey, chill,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m human. You need help.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question, the guy was bleeding out all over the seat. It didn¡¯t look too bad. He might even survive all on his own with his makeshift bandage, but not if some alien showed up. I had the points to spare for some healing shit anyway. He dropped his gun and I reached over to open the door when I noticed the shadows around me receding. The world took on a reddish tint. I spun. A beam of light, no, multiple beams of light were piercing through the air, connecting the sky to the ground like massive pillars. They had to be dozens of meters wide to be seen from as far away as I was. They cut through the clouds, leaving the overcast sky glowing red. It only took a moment for me to realize that they were moving, all the beams converging together to form bigger pillars, maybe some two dozen in all. ¡°Oh, shit,¡± I said as they finally came together. The beams flashed, then disappeared. I tried to turn, but the ground was no longer underfoot. My ears went mute a moment before a sound rocked past me. It felt like someone had dropped a fifty-five gallon drum filled with cowbells onto the back of my head. I was still stumbling, trying to catch my balance when the wind hit. My jacket was whipped forwards, and my vision, already confused by everything waving around, went black. Not blindness, I realised; dust. A cloud of dust and dirt and ash so thick that it turned day to night. I felt tiny particles pelt against my back, against my helmet and legs. None hard enough to hurt, or at least not hard enough to break through my armour. What the hell had that been? I rolled into a ball, the wind whipping past pushing me forwards. I think I ended up under the car with the guy in it. That didn¡¯t provide much cover, but it was somewhere to hide. Then the earth shook again. Another strike? Had they launched them sequentially? That minute was not nearly enough warning! I was going to find that Zeus asshole and tear him a new one. Are you well? ¡°Fuck!¡± I screamed. I will take that as a no. Your undersuit¡¯s integrity is still at 100%. Your vitals are fine considering the situation. You will survive, just hold tight and wait. It¡¯s just a little orbital strike. Myalis was being comforting and sarcastic, which actually helped a little. I didn¡¯t believe in those breathing exercises they taught at the orphanage much, but it didn¡¯t hurt to try one now. The rumbling continued, and my ears unmuted themselves, allowing me to take in the torrential roar of wind around me. There were other sounds mixed in. Things crumbling, a dozen car alarms going off. I was on the edge of Black Bear nearest the blast. That meant we were just about the hardest hit. Still, I could only imagine the town being a crater after this. The wind settled. It shifted back, rushing in the opposite direction, though with only a fraction of the force. It¡¯s over. I rolled over, then started to crawl out from under the car. I wasn¡¯t even sure how I¡¯d fit in so easily, it was a tough squeeze to get out. Standing up, I looked around, but couldn¡¯t see anything, that was, until I wiped at my helmet and cleared it of the dust and dirt caked on. The wind was settling down, and with it the crap in the air. The clouds, I noticed, were nearly all gone. They had to be, to make way for the multiple mushrooms dominating the sky right next to me. They were bigger than any skyscraper I¡¯d ever seen, massive bulbous things, dark grey and growing. ¡°Shit,¡± I said. I paused and looked around. I expected cars to be flipped and all, but it wasn¡¯t quite that bad. A clod of dirt the size of my fist thumped to the ground a dozen meters away. Maybe it wasn¡¯t that bad, but it wasn¡¯t far from it. I... didn¡¯t quite know what to do. That man still needs assistance. ¡°Right,¡± I said. That first. Then I could check on the civilians in the shelter. After that I¡¯d figure out my next move. I had to contact Gomorrah and maybe Cause Player. I had the impression that whatever that had been created more work for me, not less. *** Chapter Sixty-Four - Aftermath, but weâ€™re Really Bad at Math Chapter Sixty-Four - Aftermath, but we¡¯re Really Bad at Math ¡°When the first incursions occurred, humanity as a whole didn¡¯t know how to respond to them. They were a threat unlike any other. And so, naturally, no holds were barred when it came to unleashing humanity¡¯s collective arsenal on the aliens. Often, that meant that the worst of the disaster wasn¡¯t created by the aliens, but by humanity itself.¡± --Excerpt from A History of Disaster, 2047 *** ¡°Okay, press here,¡± I said, gesturing at a point on the dude¡¯s leg. He hissed as he put pressure on his wound, but it helped, keeping one of my hands free so that I could tug his leg up and wrap the bandage around it again. I had plenty of first aid stuff, but they were a bit pricey. Good bandages though? With some sort of magic bullshit fast-healing stuff in them? Yeah, one point for a roll that had an adhesive strip on the ends and that would contract and breathe as needed. ¡°There,¡± I said as I pressed the strip into the bandage. The edges flashed green and the entire bit of cloth tightened a little. ¡°I¡¯d kiss it better, but you¡¯re not my type.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± he said. I shifted back out of the car, ignoring all the glass crunching below me as I backed out, then I gave him a hand to get out himself. He still hung onto his gun, which was great. It might come in handy. ¡°Let¡¯s get you inside,¡± I said as I looked around. None of the cars around us had windows, and they were all turned an ugly grey-ish brown by the blast of dirt and ash. Speaking of ash, there was a faint rain coming down from above. Too grey to be snow. ¡°What happened?¡± he asked. "Some fuckwit didn¡¯t learn their lesson about blast radiuses, I think,¡± I said. ¡°Just hope this shit¡¯s not radioactive.¡± It is not. The HVW that struck nearby was an iridium rod. It is non-radioactive. ¡°Oh, so it¡¯s not fallout?¡± I asked. It¡¯s fallout from the explosion, but it is not radioactive fallout. No more than any amount of soil kicked up would have, at least. ¡°That¡¯s good, right?¡± the guy asked. ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s get you inside, you can have a sit with your family.¡± The arena was fucked. The lobby was fine. A bit dusty, and some of the posters had been ripped off the walls, but nothing a janitor couldn¡¯t fix. The rest of it though? The tin roof had been peeled back like a sardine can, exposing the hockey rink and letting in plenty of dust and crap. Dust had made it all the way into the corridors leading to the shelter. The doors were shut when we arrived. Couldn¡¯t blame them, I¡¯d have closed them on sensing the blast too. I had to knock hard to get people to respond. Then I was practically shoved aside as the man that had asked me about his son grabbed the guy next to me and hugged him. A nice, tearful reunion. Still, two others wouldn¡¯t be getting theirs. I hesitated for a bit. Should we move these people back to the headquarters, or leave them here? A quick look in the shelter revealed a low-ceilinged room, with hefty cement pillars here and there, and little rooms on all sides with cots. Maybe some thirty or forty people inside, most of them adults, but a few kids. ¡°Hey,¡± I said to one of them standing by the door. He had an old hunting rifle by his side and looked ready to use it. ¡°I¡¯m stepping out. Just outside. Close up, alright? I want to see what¡¯s going on.¡± I waved them off and headed back upstairs. I wasn¡¯t as concerned about aliens as I had been. That blast should have done a number to anything outside, aliens included. ¡°Myalis, can you connect me to Gomorrah, please?¡± Certainly. I closed my eyes for a moment and just breathed. The line beeped and I heard Gomorrah talking to someone. ¡°...Do what you can. Empty the infirmary. There should be more help coming soon. Give me a moment, I¡¯ve got a call. Cat?¡± ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°Did you feel that?¡± ¡°If by ¡®that¡¯ you mean the dozen orbital strikes less than ten kilometres away, then yes, we all felt it.¡± She was a bit terse. Maybe I could cut back on the snark? A little bit? ¡°Everyone alright?¡± I asked. ¡°Are you alright?¡± This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said. ¡°Everyone else... well, there aren¡¯t any dead. Biggest injury is a broken leg. One of the police officers climbed up the wall to see the light show. He was thrown off. We have a lot of smaller injuries. The entire side of this building facing the blast had windows. There¡¯s just... blood all over. We¡¯re trying to set things up. Get glass out of cuts and bandage them up.¡± ¡°Oh, shit,¡± I said. I hadn¡¯t considered that. ¡°I heard you saying something about help. That¡¯s not me, right?¡± ¡°No. Army is coming in from New Montreal. They should be half an hour out. The army-army, not some PMC,¡± Gomorrah said. She sighed. ¡°I can¡¯t wait, this entire thing has turned into a mess.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m going to stay here for a bit. There¡¯s a shelter with a bunch of civilians in it. Once you get in touch with the army, can you have them send a few soldiers this way? We can escort them to the headquarters.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t want to do that yourself?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Not in this mess.¡± The streets were covered in debris and a few trees had fallen. The power lines had snapped in a few spots too. ¡°Do you still have power?¡± I asked. ¡°Generator,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°They have a smaller one here, enough for the lights. We¡¯re using the steps instead of the elevators too. Apparently there are bigger generators over by the mines.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll see if we can¡¯t get the army to move them over,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s an idea.¡± Gomorrah paused. ¡°I¡¯m getting a request for a call with someone, I¡¯m patching you in.¡± I didn¡¯t have time to protest that my augs shifted and suddenly I was looking at the face of a smiling man in a business suit. ¡°Hello Gomorrah... and Stray Cat? Pleased to meet you. How are things on the ground?¡± ¡°Gomorrah, who¡¯s this fucko?¡± I asked, politely. Gomorrah snorted and the guy¡¯s face went through a few emotions. ¡°This is the one in charge of the orbital weapons. No, he¡¯s not a Vanguard.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Lorenz,¡± Lorenz said. ¡°That¡¯s nice. Why the fuck did you hit so close to the town?¡± ¡°Uh, that¡¯s where the hive is?¡± he said. ¡°I actually stopped firing early. We were supposed to hit twelve times, then six more times in the centre, right over the main body of the hive, but there¡¯s some tectonic instability in the region from the first hits. We¡¯ll need to wait for that to clear out first.¡± ¡°Another wave of hits?¡± I asked. ¡°The place is barely keeping together as it is.¡± Lorenz seemed to disagree. ¡°We need to eradicate as much of the hive as we can now, before we send you in to weed out the rest.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± I asked. ¡°The Black Bear Mining Corporation has been using new technology to find mineral deposits,¡± he said. ¡°Instead of strip mining, they¡¯ve been using tunnels to reach those deposits directly.¡± I squeezed my eyes shut. ¡°Lorenz, what the fuck are you on about?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll admit, I¡¯m curious too. This seems like an unnecessary tangent. We¡¯re trying to save lives here, we don¡¯t care about mining.¡± ¡°Sorry, sorry. It¡¯s just that we think the local Antithesis hive has relocated into the mining shafts around Black Bear. Some of the scans of the mines we have don¡¯t match up to the official records the company keeps. For that matter, they¡¯ve been extracting more ore than they should have.¡± ¡°So the aliens are underground,¡± I said. ¡°That is, if you didn¡¯t collapse them in.¡± ¡°The shafts should still be there. The next wave of HVWs should be stronger, with bunker-buster munitions. It will be a bit harder than the last blast.¡± ¡°HVW?¡± Gomorrah was the one to reply. ¡°High Velocity Weapon. The kinetic strike rods they just used.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°So you want us to go skipping around in some mineshaft, to kill some aliens, while folk around here are screwed over by your inability to aim?¡± Lorenz looked a bit pale. ¡°Yes? ... Ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°Lorenz, where are you right now?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to disclose that?¡± His IP traces back to a Family-owned complex in Wyoming. ¡°Wyoming, huh? Lorenz, I¡¯ve decided that I don¡¯t like you. So if you want me to do anything that isn¡¯t driving over to... wherever the fuck Wyoming is, then you¡¯d better become real convincing real fast. I¡¯m not in a good mood.¡± Chapter Sixty-Five - Politics According to Cat Chapter Sixty-Five - Politics According to Cat ¡°In 2022 a bill was brought up for consideration by members of the then-Republican and Democratic parties, in a bipartisan gesture. The bill would, in essence, restrict the ability of a samurai to participate in the open market. They would not be allowed to purchase or own stocks or shares in a company, they would not be allowed to own or operate their own business, and in theory, would need to be affiliated with a company in good-standing in order to file their taxes. In 2023 a samurai named Blitzo accidentally detonated a chemical laser weapon above Washington, D.C. The beams projected by this device, all of them with temperatures of several thousands of degrees, and no wider than a hair, were fired across the city at entirely random angles. Of the seventy-two casualties from this accident, seventy-two were politicians or lobbyists. By sheer, scientifically-proven coincidence, these were all lobbyists and politicians in favour of the bill. The bill did not pass. Blitzo was charged, tried and acquitted of all charges. His defence, that the bomb was set off accidentally by a faulty fuse, and that the lasers could have gone in literally any direction, was impossible to disprove, regardless of how unlikely the results happened to be. Judge Van Maners, who presided over Blitzo¡¯s trial, was quoted as saying, ¡®Fuck all of that.¡¯¡± --Excerpt from Samurai and Politics, a Simple Guide, 2039 *** ¡°Ah,¡± Lorenz began with all the grace of a new manager meeting his first Karen. ¡°We... you see... um.¡± ¡°Um?¡± I repeated. ¡°Cat,¡± Gomorrah said. There was a bit of a warning tone to it. ¡°I think what Lorenz was trying to say there was that he¡¯s very, very sorry that he almost blew you up, and that he will make sure that the Family takes full responsibility for the damages caused here.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can... I mean, yes. Yes, that¡¯s what I meant,¡± Lorenz said in a hurry. I snorted, but... yeah, I was basically bullying the idiot at this point. An idiot with an orbital gun, but an idiot still. ¡°How many people are working with you, Lorenz?¡± ¡°We¡¯re a team of forty,¡± he said. ¡°For the NA-near-orbit zone.¡± So, he wasn¡¯t some guy in a basement pressing on big red buttons for fun. The background in his image kind of hinted at him being somewhere important. Lots of books and little photos on a shelf behind him, as well as awards and some knick-knacks. Office shit, basically. ¡°And who¡¯s... Zeus?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the samurai that set up the orbital drop system,¡± Lorenz said. ¡°He¡¯s a member of the Family.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. So Zeus wasn¡¯t the one pulling the trigger? ¡°Tell him that he needs to give his toys to more responsible people.¡± ¡°I... will pass that along?¡± I wanted to rub at my forehead. Instead, I settled for starting to walk in circles around the arena parking lot. ¡°How long until the army comes in?¡± ¡°They¡¯re waiting for the debris to clear. They should be there in under half an hour. Though, I¡¯m not the one in charge of that side of things.¡± ¡°Then who is?¡± Gomorrah asked. Lorenz swallowed. ¡°That would be the NA Coordination group?¡± ¡°How big is the Family?¡± I asked. Lorenz blinked. ¡°It¡¯s the biggest samurai-affiliated and run organization in North America?¡± So a corp, but one run by samurai? ¡°Damnit,¡± I muttered. ¡°They¡¯re not that bad,¡± Gomorrah said, likely reading my mind. ¡°Lorenz, you¡¯ve done an awful job of... a lot of things. Maybe you can redeem yourself by telling us about the mines?¡± ¡°Yes, yes, I can do that. I¡¯m sending you the geological readings. The map might not be entirely accurate, but it should be close. It¡¯s based on the tremors caused by our orbital impacts. Each impact is offset by a few seconds, and based on the vibrations across the region, we can extrapolate... ah, nevermind. We have maps.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°And the Antithesis are in those caves?¡± ¡°Mineshafts,¡± Lorenz corrected. ¡°And it¡¯s very likely. The hive was difficult to see from orbit. Stealth hives tend to create a lot of ¡®chaff¡¯ that spreads quickly and makes scans difficult to run. It¡¯s also very easy to overlook the sort of static they create.¡± ¡°Not here for a lesson,¡± I said. ¡°Right, right. Um, yes. The hive was originally concentrated over a random part of the forest, but it then started spreading. That spread¡¯s speed slowed down considerably just as the hive reached a position above one shaft that happened to be relatively close to the surface.¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. I stopped pacing. ¡°They slowed down because... well, they weren¡¯t slowing down, they were just growing down instead of out?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what we suspect, yes.¡± I chewed on my lips. ¡°It¡¯s a very small hive. The Family will be sending some of its best samurai to eradicate it tomorrow.¡± ¡°Tomorrow?¡± I asked. ¡°In the early morning,¡± Lorenz confirmed. ¡°The incursion here was only two days old and it was already threatening Black Bear. Give it a dozen hours and it might be able to start producing more models that will be a threat,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt the family can get on top of it, but why not act sooner?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what the second set of impacts are for. To weaken the Antithesis¡¯ position.¡± ¡°And wreck the town even more,¡± I said. So, we had a choice. Let the Family basically nuke the place, then come in tomorrow to mop up. That option would mess the town up even more. Probably not too bad, actually. Anyone that was hurt was probably in cover already, and we have more time to warn people. The army would be here too. That reminded me, I had to call Cause Player, see if he was still alive. The second option was doing shit ourselves. Risky. And dumb. But the points... ¡°What are you thinking?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°I wonder if I¡¯m claustrophobic or not,¡± I said. ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been in a few tight, warm places before,¡± I said. ¡°Lucy and I both found that very enjoyable. But this is different.¡± Gomorrah made a disgusted noise. ¡°Do you really have to turn everything into a sex joke?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Right, well I¡¯m in favour of clearing it out ourselves,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Really?¡± I asked. ¡°Tight quarters, small sight-lines, flammable enemies. This is literally the perfect situation for my loadout,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Might not get another like this for a while. I could use the points.¡± I felt my good eyebrow raise. ¡°Going to get a second car?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a one-car kind of woman,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°As God intended. No, I want some more defences around the church. I had some people snooping around already. I¡¯m not fond of that.¡± ¡°You could buy one of the floors below my new place. Turn it into a... church thing, or whatever. Hell, you can slap a steeple on the roof. Lucy would hate it at first, but I think its phallic nature would win her over eventually. Plus she¡¯d get to see nuns. And tease them.¡± ¡°You have such a one-track mind,¡± Gomorrah complained. ¡°Sorry, when I get fidgety,¡± I explained. ¡°Anyway, where you go I go, I guess.¡± Lorenz sighed. ¡°That¡¯s great to hear.¡± I¡¯d honestly forgotten he was even there. ¡°We¡¯re waiting until the army shows up,¡± I said. ¡°Not going to leave all these people out here without anyone to defend them.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a whole battalion coming in,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Sounds like they¡¯re taking this seriously.¡± No PMCs, weird. My interactions with the government so far had been... sparse and traumatic. I hoped that the government¡¯s army wouldn¡¯t be similar. ¡°Good, I guess. Once they get here, I¡¯ll head over to you. We can figure things out from there.¡± ¡°Thank you, both of you. The Family will certainly appreciate your assistance in this matter,¡± Lorenz said. ¡°Kissing my ass won¡¯t un-blow-up me,¡± I said. Gomorrah actually giggled for a half-second before cutting off with a cough. ¡°Yes, well, see you soon.¡± ¡°See you soon,¡± I said. ¡°And Lorenz, do call a girl before exploding her or things in her vicinity. It¡¯s just polite.¡± ¡°R-right,¡± Lorenz mumbled. The line went dead and I let out a long breath before stretching my back. An interesting conversation, and a great opportunity. ¡°To die in a hole, you mean.¡± I would encourage you to save some points to use in case of that sort of emergency. Or, alternatively, spend them on something that would save you in case of a cave in. ¡°Like what, a teleportation machine?¡± I asked. Yes. There are many ways of moving things from one point to another without crossing the space between the two points. I blinked. ¡°You can teleport stuff?¡± The silence was very, very long. Catherine... how do you explain the items you purchase arriving before you? ¡°Oh, right. Obviously.¡± I spent the long minutes waiting for the army to arrive feeling particularly stupid. Chapter Sixty-Six - Tanks and Soldiers and Guns, Oh My! Chapter Sixty-Six - Tanks and Soldiers and Guns, Oh My! ¡°Most modern militaries in the early 2000s were designed to counter other modern militaries and minor uprisings. The Antithesis changed that. Now most forces split their attention between crowd suppression, their traditional anti-military role, and incursion suppression.¡± --Introduction to the ¡®Three Way Problem¡¯ by Professor Ivence, 2054 *** I don¡¯t know why, but when I imagined the army showing up, I was expecting a couple of troop transports. Maybe a few armoured cars. I wasn¡¯t expecting tanks. My knowledge about tanks wasn¡¯t exactly great. I¡¯d seen them in movies and games, and maybe in a history documentary or two. I knew they were big armoured things. For some reason, it never registered that they¡¯d be fucking enourmous. The tank that rolled onto the road with the arena was nearly wide enough to take up the entire street. It had smaller gun emplacements all around it, turrets with armoured screens under them, and a main gun sitting on the back with a barrel I could have stuck my head in. Wheels instead of tracks, though. Big ones, with hexagonal-patterned tires, four to a side. The tank turned my way, casually rolled over the hood of some poor civilian¡¯s little sedan, then made a tight turn a couple of metres ahead of me and stopped with a hiss. I stared up as a hatch hummed open. The inch-thick doorway was shoved up by a little hydraulic arm, just enough that a guy was able to poke his head out. ¡°Are you Stray Cat, ma¡¯am?¡± he asked. ¡°Yup,¡± I said. ¡°Nice ride.¡± The soldier grinned. ¡°Thank you, ma¡¯am! We¡¯re the only super-heavy here. Thought it would be best to have us break the tide, as it were.¡± ¡°Super heavy?¡± I asked. He reached an arm out and gave the vehicle an affectionate thump. ¡°One hundred and fifty tonnes of alien killing beauty.¡± ¡°Nice,¡± I said. I think I saw the appeal. I wasn¡¯t a gun nut, but that cannon on the top. Well, bitches did love cannons. ¡°You guys going to stick around here?¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am!¡± I heard something off to the side, and leaned back to see a few more vehicles coming over. Tanks, but these were no bigger than an SUV. Fewer wheels, and the asymmetrically-set gun wasn¡¯t as panty-wettingly big. ¡°Cool. You¡¯re really freeing me up here,¡± I said. ¡°There are some civilians holed up in the arena. Saw some Model Threes and Fours around earlier. And watch out for Model Nines. They¡¯re nasty fuckers.¡± The tanker saluted. ¡°Will do, ma¡¯am. Do you need a ride anywhere? We have infantry being dropped off here.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Sure,¡± I said. I wouldn¡¯t mind riding on a tank. As it turned out, what he meant was that when a troop transport came around--just a sort of enclosed truck, lightly armoured and unarmed--to drop off a couple of squads of infantry, it waited around for me to hop on. I didn¡¯t complain. It saved me some walking, but I did kind of want to ride in one of the tanks. Lucy would trip. I stayed standing in the cramped rear of the transport, eyes on the road passing by behind us. The town had taken a serious blow already, but a lot of it seemed somewhat superficial. Some clean-up, a bit of cash spent repainting homes, fixing yards and replacing all the glass, and Black Bear would be right as rain. More or less. The transport rolled to a stop before the headquarters, and I leapt out of the back. There were a lot more soldiers around than I¡¯d expected. They seemed to be using the front of the headquarters as a staging ground, tents going up and blocky mobile homes with com-arrays on their roofs parking in neat rows. I saw some of the local police around, mostly hanging out close to the main building itself. Either they didn¡¯t want the army going in, or they were just focusing on keeping the civilians safe while the soldiers took the brunt of any potential attack. The army certainly had the better equipment. More of those light tanks were parked here and there, sandbags already going up around them, and others were setting up AA-guns on mounts on the lawns of the buildings across the street. I found Gomorrah sitting on Fury¡¯s hood, one leg kicking back and forth while she stared off into the sky. ¡°You look chill,¡± I said as I moved over. The nun looked down, her impassive mask staring back at me. ¡°I was. Just relaxing a little before we get back to work.¡± This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°We¡¯re taking the Fury?¡± ¡°We¡¯re not walking.¡± Fair enough. ¡°Right. Before we go. Did you find a place to land us?¡± ¡°I figured I¡¯d find the biggest hole and slip into that,¡± she said. We were both quiet for a while, then she sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t say anything.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to,¡± I lied. ¡°Did you have a better idea?¡± ¡°If I say anything related to lube, you¡¯ll be pissed, right?¡± She nodded. ¡°Right, right. So, I was actually thinking. The mine has to have an exit. Or at least, an entrance. The orbital strikes might have poked a few holes in the surface, but the company had to get in somehow.¡± ¡°You¡¯re thinking of hitting the hive from that direction?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°It¡¯s an idea,¡± I said. ¡°If we drop into the middle of the hive, between... whatever dead end is in that, and the exit, half of them will be able to run away.¡± She shifted. ¡°Unless we come in by the main entrance and then half of them leave from that new hole. Did you want to split up?¡± ¡°No. Let¡¯s stick together. And that hole is monitored. Any aliens coming out of there will be tracked. At least, I hope.¡± ¡°And not those from the main entrance?¡± Gomorrah asked. I shrugged, then made a crumbly gesture with both hands. ¡°We could collapse it?¡± ¡°That... makes some sense. A few rockets by the entrance might do it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got a lot of options when it comes to bombs. Like, an unhealthy amount. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s something I can buy for a few points that¡¯ll do the trick. I stretched, then gestured to the Fury. ¡°Let¡¯s go?¡± I tossed my crap in the back. ¡°Oh, and we need to call Cause Player.¡± ¡°You need to call him. I¡¯ve been talking to everyone today. And don¡¯t forget your cats.¡± I had forgotten about those. With what looked like a few hundred soldiers around, they were probably not as useful to have around. ¡°Myalis, can you recall those? Would they fit in the trunk?¡± ¡°The trunk¡¯s not too big,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°But you can try.¡± My mecha cats trotted over, some of them surprising the soldiers as they sauntered by. As it turned out, you could fit them in the trunk, but it was a near-thing. They had to fold themselves up all neat and tight, and I had to shove them in a bit. I slumped onto the passenger-side seat and started looking through my contacts while Gomorrah gently took off and started to hover over Black Bear. My augs rang, and soon enough, Cause Player picked up. ¡°Hello?¡± he asked. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re alive?¡± ¡°Yeah. That blast nearly knocked me off my feet. Nearly destroyed my camera too, but I still got a good angle on everything. It¡¯ll make for a great VOD.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah. That sounds cool. No injuries?¡± ¡°I have good armour,¡± he said. ¡°Are you okay?¡± I allowed myself to grimace. No one could see it. ¡°I¡¯m fine. The hive¡¯s not entirely gone. It¡¯s currently settled into this mineshaft. Gomorrah and I are heading over there now.¡± ¡°Can I come? Tight quarters like that make for a great show.¡± I considered it for a bit. ¡°Sure. We¡¯ll take the side leading deeper into the hive, you take the other side.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fewer aliens for me,¡± he said. ¡°There are two of us,¡± I said. ¡°If the tunnels split again, we¡¯ll be able to handle it better. Plus we have mechas with us. I¡¯m a stealth and bomb specialist, Gomorrah has all the flame-throwers.¡± ¡°I guess. At least I¡¯ll be around if you two need help, or vice versa. Let me put my stream on pause.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t want them seeing us?¡± I asked. ¡°Do you want to be seen?¡± he asked. ¡°One sec,¡± I said. ¡°Gomorrah, two things. Cause Player wants to come with. We¡¯ll be splitting up at each entrance. I think we could drop him off at the main entrance and take the other ourselves. And do you mind being on-camera? This dude¡¯s got like, a Twinge livestream going on.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mind people seeing me, or Fury, for that matter.¡± ¡°Neat,¡± I said. I opened a text box and started to send a text to Lucy. She¡¯d want to follow Cause Player¡¯s stream, knowing her. ¡°Cause Player? We¡¯re good. We¡¯ll swing around to pick you up in a couple of seconds, er-- as soon as we know where you are.¡± ¡°Cool. Do you have a map of the hive?¡± ¡°Ah... yeah, but it¡¯s shit. Let me get one from the mining corp, they must have a map of their own damned mine.¡± We really weren¡¯t going into this as prepared as we should have been. But I figured we¡¯d be fine. Overwhelming firepower corrected a lot of wrongs. *** Chapter Sixty-Seven - Exploring New Holes with Your Favorite Nun Chapter Sixty-Seven - Exploring New Holes with Your Favorite Nun ¡°Okay, so you know how slave labour is all sorts of illegal, right?¡± ¡°Obviously.¡± ¡°Right, so get this. Someone volunteering... isn¡¯t. An employee giving you time willingly, without asking for pay? Yeah, that¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s going to work for free?¡± ¡°No, no, see, that¡¯s the best part. You take note of who did volunteer work, make it public, and when promotions roll around, you tell those who volunteered a lot and who happen to get promoted that it¡¯s partially because they volunteered.¡± ¡°So to get promoted you need to volunteer?¡± ¡°What? No, that¡¯ll just get idiots with too much time up the ladder. Nah, but when someone who did volunteer gets promoted, you make a big show of it. I¡¯m telling you, about one fifth of our employee work hours last year were entirely volunteer work. You can even use it as a tax write-off!¡± --Overheard conversation at the AE New Montreal Head Office *** Cause Player didn¡¯t complain about how cramped the rear seats of the Fury were. That was great. He did complain about just about everything else though. ¡°Slow down!¡° ¡°I¡¯m hardly going fast,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°It¡¯s relative!¡± he said as trees whipped by on either side. ¡°We¡¯re barely going one hundred,¡± Gomorrah complained. ¡°That¡¯s really fast when you¡¯re only feet off the ground!¡± I snorted. ¡°Who uses feet? For measuring shit, I mean.¡± ¡°I¡¯d use liters for that,¡± Gomorrah whispered. It took me a second, but when I caught on I cackled. ¡°The road! The road!¡± Cause Player shouted. Gomorrah looked ahead, twitched us out of the path of a tree, then turned to stare at Cause Player. ¡°I didn¡¯t learn to drive yesterday, you know?¡± ¡°Wait, I vaguely recall you telling me you didn¡¯t know how to drive?¡± ¡°That was three days ago.¡± I looked out ahead, at all the trees whipping by. ¡°Um, now I¡¯m a little concerned too,¡± I admitted. Cause Player said something that was probably rude, but Gomorrah chose that moment to yank us up, spin Fury around, then come to a very quick hover on a flat patch of ground. The forest was cleared for a ways, leaving plenty of room for the huge machines that were parked around the mine entrance, which was wider than most of the houses in Black Bear and twice as tall. The Fury slid to a stop and hovered a metre off the ground, front facing the mine entrance. The entrance, and about a dozen Antithesis. ¡°Huh,¡± Gomorrah said. She flicked something, and a large gun unfolded from the car¡¯s hood. The Fury¡¯s soundproofing proved its worth. I didn¡¯t even hear the machine gun going off. Soon, the few Model Threes and Fours lingering around were turned into so much pulp that they were hard to tell apart from a pile of roadside slush. ¡°This is your stop,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°We even cleared the landing zone.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Cause Player said. ¡°I think... I¡¯ll figure out how to get back on my own.¡± ¡°Suit yourself.¡± I leaned to the side to see him open the backdoor. He looked stange, all tucked in with his heavy armour, knees almost at his chest. It was good that his guns were the teleport-y sort. ¡°Stay warm,¡± I said. ¡°And if shit goes crooked, give us a call.¡± ¡°I will,¡± he said. ¡°You do the same.¡± With that, he squeezed out of the car and crashed into the ground, boot-first. Heavy metal started to fill the air as he strode forwards, and a large gun materialized into his arms. ¡°Really want one of those,¡± I said. ¡°The music?¡± Gomottah asked as the door closed. ¡°The magic gun thing,¡± I said. She nodded. ¡°It¡¯s neat.¡± Gomorrah drove forwards, then angled us up and over the rocky hillside into which the mines dove. I have the survey information from the headquarters. It seems as if they sent information that doesn¡¯t entirely match the seismographic information obtained from the orbital strike. Either the company is lying, their information is out of date, or they are incompetent. I suspect it¡¯s a little bit of all three. ¡°Did you check around for any signs that they¡¯re lying on purpose?¡± I asked. None that I could see, but there are some employees who have a history of bending the truth to better pad out the bottom line. Well, that wasn¡¯t unexpected. ¡°Whatever. We¡¯ll figure it out once we¡¯re down there. If the place is active, we¡¯ll want to deploy quickly.¡± Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ¡°Rockets in the entrance?¡± ¡°Might make the place cave in on us,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s fair. Do you have anything to prevent a cave-in from killing you?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°Well, bombs.¡± The nun sighed. ¡°Bombs don¡¯t... well, I suppose technically.¡± I kinda wished she could see my grin. ¡°Explosives fix most problems, when you¡¯re creative enough with their use,¡± I said. ¡°Right, I¡¯ve got a thing. I¡¯ll buy you one once we¡¯ve landed.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°A hundred points to keep you alive is hardly much of a sacrifice.¡± I... felt a bit touched. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, meaning it. Gomorrah didn¡¯t comment, instead she wheeled us around a patch of what had been a forest. I hadn¡¯t been paying too much attention, but now that we were over the area closer to where the Rods of God had impacted, it became pretty obvious something big had hit. Nearly every tree around was knocked flat on its side, like tens of thousands of narrow dominos. The hole we were looking for wasn¡¯t that hard to spot. A crack running across the edge of a hill, maybe fifty metres long and way, way deeper. ¡°Not finding much space to land on,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Maybe there?¡± She pointed to a spot some dozen metres from the crack, with a few rocks that looked kind of stable. ¡°Hover over?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah, but we need to unload some stuff. I think that grapple system of yours is still in the back. I¡¯m... very much not surprised that you leave stuff around in other people¡¯s cars.¡± ¡°Oops,¡± I deadpanned. Gomorrah brought us down and set the Fury to hover. Stepping out was a bit tricky, with the ground being so uneven, but we managed. I stared into the crevice, the whole thing feeling a lot larger, and a lot darker now that we stood right on the edge of it. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s unload the mecha cats. Should we leave one with the Fury?¡± ¡°To guard it? No, I¡¯ll remote it up a few hundred metres. It¡¯ll target any flying Antithesis around, and it can serve as a beacon for us. There¡¯s not much normal reception around here.¡± I glanced to the skies. Dark. Dark and brownish. There were some fires here and there too, little white plumes reaching out to the clouds. ¡°Cat?¡± I snapped out of it and rushed to the back of the Fury to help unload the mecha cats stored within. ¡°Going to be tricky to get these three to the bottom,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re not so heavy,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Who¡¯s going down first? Oh, and let me get you that thing.¡± ¡°Ah yes, the thing,¡± I said. As it turned out, the thing was a small pack with clamps. It was mildly complicated to put on, and had a bunch of boxes around it. Gomorrah explained that they would deploy a sort of airbag around me if shit went horribly wrong. It was more than just an airbag, but I got the gist of it. ¡°Myalis, can I spare enough points for, like, a stealth poncho? With a hood?¡± I asked. A stealth poncho? ¡°Like, a thing that¡¯ll cover me more than just my jacket. I have my legs and head still visible.¡± I think I understand what you¡¯re looking for. Perhaps a cloak? ¡°A cloak of invisibility? That sounds kind of awesome. Always wanted one of those.¡± ¡°For peeping in bathrooms?¡± Gomorrah asked as she helped me grab the last mecha cat. ¡°Showers, actually,¡± I said. You only want something simple? ¡°It¡¯s all I can afford,¡± I said. ¡°You know it¡¯s still weird to only hear one side of that conversation,¡± Gomorrah said. I shrugged. New Purchase: Cloak of Inpurrceptability Points Reduced to... 35 I picked up the box the cloak came in and opened it to find a long cape-like thing, with a deep hood that of course had cat ears sewn on. Kinda cute though. I slid it on over everything else I had. Fortunately it was pretty light, because I was covered in a whole load of gear already. ¡°Do you think we should get like, exoskeleton suits, or power armour?¡± I asked. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the end-goal?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Honestly, I think it depends on what you¡¯re going for.¡± Gomorrah and I set up my old grapple system, the drill-heads digging into some of the larger stones as if they were so much butter. And then it was time to head down into the pit. ¡°I¡¯ll go first,¡± I said. ¡°Not even a debate?¡± I grinned, then walked off the edge. ¡°Nope!¡± *** Chapter Sixty-Eight - Darkness Chapter Sixty-Eight - Darkness ¡°Samurai Hunters Twelve! Build your own samurai team and hunt Antithesis in the best MOBA of the decade! Now with 178 new DLC characters!¡± --Nimbletainment ad, 2039 *** The darkness was... strange. No, alright, it was normal darkness. Just a lack of light from above. The thing is, I could still ¡®see¡¯ perfectly well. My cybernetic cat eye was pretty good about low-light, and it was messing with my head that my meat eye wasn¡¯t. Strangely enough, the ears helped me see more. I hadn¡¯t noticed how accustomed I¡¯d gotten to my new ears, I guess. They were supposed to have some sort of sonar to them, and I had noticed that I could see a sort of mental image of things that were around a corner, but it was all very subtle. A sort of impression that faded into the background when I wasn¡¯t paying attention. Something about the system had to be there to prevent it all from disorientating me. Now, in the deepening darkness of the mines, that system came into play again. Or it would be more accurate to say that I noticed it more. I couldn¡¯t see into the deeper darkness, but I could sense what was there anyway. Freaky. Kinda cool though. My grapple system lowered me down metre by metre until finally my foot touched the ground. I¡¯d left Whisper in the Fury, figuring that a long-ranged, low-rate-of-fire weapon like that wouldn¡¯t be of much use in a mine. Looking around, I had the impression it was the right choice. The moment I touched down, I deposited the two Mecha cats I was holding. The suckers were pretty heavy, but at least they had little handles on them. The mecha deployed while I looked around. There were big chunks of rock and stone all over, fallen pieces from whatever had caused the hole above, I figured, but the walls themselves were smooth, as if someone had polished them. I unclipped myself from the grapple¡¯s harness, then used an aug-command to send the whole thing wheeling back up. Reaching into my coat, I pulled out my Trench Maker, then tugged up the hood on my cloak. The cat-ears on my helmet actually served to keep the cloak in place, which was handy. Then with a flick of a switch, I turned on the cloak and faded away. My coat¡¯s invisibility came on too, and with the two combined, I figured I was nearly entirely covered. My head from any direction but straight ahead, my legs from the same. Only the bottom of my boots and maybe my hands and guns when I stuck them out would be visible. That was pretty decent, I figured. ¡°Myalis,¡± I muttered. ¡°Remind me to get a stealthy gun.¡± Gladly. My Trench Maker was fun, but it was the loud kind of fun. ¡°I¡¯ll need some silent grenades too.¡± I see three options there. Either chemical grenades, that spread toxins or solutions to break apart Antithesis, or Flesh Melters. The nanites are silent. Both options are fairly slow-acting. ¡°And the third option?¡± I asked. Black hole bombs, by dint of being what they are, do not let any sound escape. ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s something.¡± I didn¡¯t have the points for any gear like that just then, which was really starting to get annoying. I liked being able to buy my way out of trouble. ¡°Let¡¯s wait for Gomorrah to arrive, then we can look into farming for points.¡± Wonderful! Gomorrah¡¯s timing was on-point. I heard the faint whine of the grapple system from above, and my favourite nun came sliding down like a spider on the end of a thread. She touched down and swung her flame-thrower around in an arc, the gun tucked under her armpit. Her other hand held onto the handle on the back of one of my mecha cats. ¡°Cat?¡± ¡°Hey,¡± I said while bringing a hand out from under my cloak to wave. ¡°Didn¡¯t see you there,¡± she said. ¡°Honestly, I can¡¯t see much. Are we safe?¡± ¡°Safe-ish?¡± I tried. I couldn¡¯t see any Antithesis, but I hadn¡¯t been looking all that hard. The ground was a dusty mess, and thanks to that, it wasn¡¯t hard to see the trails left behind. Paw-prints, or the nearest thing to paws that the aliens had, other spots where things had dragged across the ground. Gomorrah removed her mask, then pulled something out from within it. The insides? A box materialized by her feet, and she knelt down, opened it, and replaced the insides of her mask with a new insert. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I asked ¡°Night vision,¡± she said. ¡°Or dark vision? I¡¯m not entirely sure of the mechanics. It lets me see in low-light. And I won¡¯t be blinded by sudden changes in brightness.¡± If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Neat,¡± I said. ¡°Why not just get a whole new mask?¡± ¡°I have modular gear,¡± she said. ¡°Most of it¡¯s covered by my habit.¡± Interesting. It only made sense that she¡¯d have her own way of doing things. Probably less wasteful than my own, actually. ¡°That way, I think,¡± she said, pointing off to one side. ¡°I¡¯ll go ahead,¡± I said. ¡°We need some way for you to know where I am.¡± ¡°My friendly fire does tend to be a bit literal,¡± she said. With your permission, I can send microsecond updates on your relative location to Gomorrah, and with the assistance of Atyacus she will know where you are at all times. ¡°Sounds fair,¡± I muttered. ¡°Gomorrah, Myalis is sending Atyacus my location information. No need to try and get me hot and bothered.¡± ¡°Adorable,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll send you the same, I guess.¡± It took a bit of fiddling, but soon Gomorrah had an outline around her whenever I looked her way, one that moved whenever she did. It was kind of neat. ¡°Ready?¡± I asked. The same aura appeared around my three cats too. They weren¡¯t stealth models, but they were pretty quiet already. ¡°Lead away.¡± I stepped out ahead, Trench Maker low to my side and attention out ahead. The mines got a bit cleaner as I moved past the spot with the opening above. Somehow, I didn¡¯t expect to feel the weight of all that rock above me pressing down. Not literally, just a sort of... awareness that there was a lot of shit above me, and it might not stay there. Kneeling down a little ways into the tunnel, I brushed my meat fingers over the floor. ¡°How is it so smooth?¡± I asked. It wasn¡¯t smooth-smooth, but it wasn¡¯t as rocky and pebbly as I would have thought a mine would be. From the company records, it seems as though they adopted some Vanguard-level technology to mine. Mostly to discover mineral deposits, but they also use a plasma-jet system to burn into the earth. ¡°Hmm,¡± I said. Some sort of melting effect would explain the smoothness. It reminded me a bit of melted plastic, like leaving a bottle on a heating vent for too long. The company is supposed to back-fill some mines once they are done extracting from them, but in most cases they mark the shafts as filled without doing so, or fill them with what seems to be industrial waste. ¡°How surprising,¡± I said, my tone about as flat as the floor. The mine bent a little, and it was as I moved forward around that bend that I noticed the first Antithesis to greet me. A Model Four, one that seemed to be injured. I raised my Trench Maker, then hesitated. Loud. It would attract all the rest, which was both good and not. Then more aliens joined my new pal, some Model Threes that seemed a bit smaller than I was used to, and with a strange shuffling, a large worm appeared. A Model Eight. I hadn¡¯t seen one of those in a while. The Model Threes surrounded the Model Four, then on some unseen signal, they tore into it, chopping the Model Four apart and tearing limbs off before tossing them to the worm. You missed out on some points there. ¡°What the hell?¡± Antithesis have no sense of individuality. No more than a leaf on a tree can think for itself. This is the hive pruning itself for more resources. A good sign. I tucked my Trench Maker away, then pulled up my Icarus. I had some options for the kind of explosive I wanted to thump ahead from the launcher, but really, there was an HE option and I was a high explosives kind of person. Lining up the shot took a second, then I pulled the trigger and felt the launcher kick back with a satisfying ¡®fwump¡¯. The HE round landed right in the middle of the pack and I flinched back as an explosion rocked past me. I hadn¡¯t considered what being in a tunnel would do with an explosion like that. At least it was significantly worse for the aliens. Targets Eliminated! Reward: 60 points New Total: 95 points I grinned. The worm alien was missing its front half, and the Model Threes were scattered across a few dozen metres, the bits of them that were still recognizable. I was going to pat myself on the back for a job well done when I heard some motion coming from deeper in the mine. A lot of motion. ¡°How many aliens are we dealing with?¡± I asked. Likely several hundred to the low thousands, depending on how entrenched the hive is. As long as it has biomass, that number is likely to redouble every twenty-four hours. ¡°Ah... shit.¡± *** Chapter Sixty-Nine - Nice Chapter Sixty-Nine - Nice ¡°You don¡¯t want to see us letting loose, uwu. We stop the buck!¡± ¡°You don¡¯t want that to happen to you, desu! We¡¯ll fuck you up!¡± --Hyper Cutie Zoom Ranger Sparkle Girl Bubble-chan! And Neon Girl Happy-Chan! In a 2040 joint interview. *** ¡°This was a mistake!¡± I shouted as I ran. Behind me, aliens were pouring out of a crack in the wall. Smaller ones, because that¡¯s all that could fit, but enough of them to give me pause. Little Model Ones, all sleek and bat-like and hard to spot in the cavern, even with my ears, and Model Threes that looked slimmer than usual. Plenty of others too, but I wasn¡¯t going to sit down and observe them all when the entire hive looked like it was out for blood. Charging down the bend in the corridor, I slid to a stop the moment I saw Gomorrah¡¯s outline ahead of me, then I turned around and raised my Icarus. The grenade launcher had an eighteen round magazine. I¡¯d fired one already. The next five thumped out and arced over to the bend just as the horde started coming around. With a quick flick of my eye, I switched over from HE to fragmentation, then launched the next two rounds before I continued to run towards Gomorrah. ¡°Turn off notifications for a bit,¡± I said. ¡°And I¡¯ll need ammo soon!¡± My counter was down to ten rounds already. ¡°What?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Pissed off aliens,¡± I said. My mecha cats, all three of them currently surrounding Gomorrah, tensed, guns unfolding from their back and eyes glowing red as they focused on the end of the tunnel. ¡°Does your helmet filter the air?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°What? Uh, I think?¡± It does. ¡°Good.¡± Aliens started pouring out from the end of the mineshaft, and despite that, Gomorrah didn¡¯t slow down her slow, steady walk. I jogged up and kept pace beside her, my shoulder-mounted guns deploying even as more aliens started running our way. I fired up and over the front lines of the aliens, each blast going off behind them taking out three or four of them. Then the mecha cats opened fire. They seemed to mostly focus on the Model Ones above, their backs arching like a pissed off cat¡¯s as the air filled with zipping tracers that skewered fliers across the breadth of the tunnel. I clicked on empty with my Icarus and fell to one knee. ¡°Reloading,¡± I said. My railgun fired, punching a thin hole all the way through the horde, then my plasma caster started to spit fire into the approaching aliens. They were getting closer than I¡¯d like. ¡°I got this,¡± Gomorrah replied. I pressed the tab on my launcher¡¯s side to eject the magazine within, then caught a fresh one out of the air as it materialized next to me and slid it in under my gun. There was a bit of fumbling there, even with the correct buttons glowing a bit to help, but I figured I¡¯d get used to it. Then Gomorrah started speaking in Latin and she levelled her flamethrower ahead of her. I hissed as a white beam shot out of the end of her oversized gun. The heat was palpable, like standing right up against the door to an oven. The white beam broke up a few metres away, splitting apart and spreading liquid fire onto anything it touched. The aliens melted. It was weird to see. Almost disturbing. So much flesh bubbling and going liquid a moment before sloughing off of bones. Eyes popped and lungs emptied with little squeaks. Not all of them died right away. Some fell to the side, still on fire, wriggling and fighting to move even as their fur and skin burned. Gomorrah waved the flamethrower left and right, spreading the fire around in a curtain ahead of us. For some reason, the worst part was the lack of screams. The aliens had to be in pain, but they were silent, dying without much of a fight. Gomorrah paused in her chanting. ¡°They¡¯re going around.¡± Around? I eyed the burning conflagration ahead of me for a moment before I saw what she meant. The aliens ahead were dead, but in dying they created a sort of barrier that Gomorrah¡¯s flamethrower had to burn through. The horde was splitting apart, rushing at us from both sides. ¡°Two cats, focus left, one focus the air,¡± I ordered. The mecha cats immediately shifted, the two on Gomorrah¡¯s left aiming down and ripping into any Antithesis that tried to sneak around, and the one behind us a little continued to fire into the air, striking at the Model Ones zipping by. I turned, flicked on HE and burst mode, then fired two three-round busts into the pile of burning aliens ahead of us before I switched back to fragmentation and let loose on the right flank. The HE rounds tore the wall of bodies apart, scattering flaming plant-meat around and opening up some room for Gomorrah to spray the aliens further back. I felt my cheeks straining as I launched round after round of fragmentation grenades into the aliens pouncing around our flaming barrier. Sometimes, the little shields built into my jacket would flicker on, stopping some of the frag from hitting me and Gomorrah behind me. My rails twitched up and took out a pair of fliers with one burst, and my plasma caster kept switching targets, leaving burning lines in the dark that ended in the middle of the chest of dozens of fliers. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Bigger ones!¡± Gomorrah shouted. I emptied the last of my magazine, dropped it, and caught a fresh one from Myalis without having to ask. It gave me a little moment to look ahead. Gomorrah was right, bigger aliens were coming. Model Fours and Fives. The latter would be a problem, they were tankier. ¡°Let¡¯s move right,¡± I said. ¡°We need a wall on one side.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± Gomorrah said. She started sidestepping even as her habit shifted and a pair of back-mounted guns poked out over her head. The two new flamethrowers glowed a violent red for a moment before adding their own fire to the conflagration ahead of us. I was sweating, armour sticking to me, and yet I couldn¡¯t help but want to laugh as I slapped a new magazine in and continued firing ahead. I left it on HE. There was no going wrong with HE. ¡°Can¡¯t take out the big ones,¡± Gomorrah said. I squinted ahead. One of the Model Fives had fallen, burning and dead. So that wasn¡¯t entirely true. The problem was likely the quantity of fire Gomorrah had to use to take it out; she¡¯d focused on it, which thinned out our flaming barricade a little, even with her two back-mounted guns adding to the blaze. ¡°Down to thirty percent,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I¡¯ll need to reload.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± I said. I pulled my trigger faster, forgoing aim to put more dents in the number of aliens coming. ¡°Mylis, next magazine, I want those monofilament bombs.¡± Understood. It wouldn¡¯t do that much to hurt the really big guys, but it would create pockets that the smaller ones couldn¡¯t pass through. I glanced at my ammo counts. Only halfway with my plasma caster, and my railgun still had over ninety percent. The mecha cats were nearing the halfway mark with their main guns and had switched from full-auto to picking off targets more carefully. I clicked empty, dropped my magazine, and picked a new one that Myalis dropped right into my open hand. It was a bit heavier, but that wasn¡¯t an issue. ¡°Going to set up some traps,¡± I shouted. ¡°Then I¡¯m switching to something with more boom, reload on ¡®Go.¡¯¡± ¡°Got it,¡± Gomorrah said. I fiddled with the controls on my launcher, then aimed way, way up, a parabolic arc showing up in my augs that would be dropping the next explosives past the front rows of aliens. Our little bit of cover was growing smaller as Antithesis jumped over their burning comrades and launched themselves at us. I fired, starting from the left, and firing again every few centimetres as I turned. It left a racking arc of smoke lines in the air that crashed somewhere out of sight. Then the blending started as the monofilament grenades went off and started whipping super-thin strands of some protector-tech wire around. I saw a few aliens being torn apart from the ankle-up and grinned. ¡°Black holes,¡± I said. Are you certain? ¡°Set them to only go off with us outside their range.¡± Understood. ¡°Go!¡± I shouted. Gomorrah stepped back, her flamethrower smoking, its barrel and entire front half red as a stove-top. I saw her drop to one knee behind me and tear open a panel on the side of her gun. I stopped paying attention as I tore the used mag out of my Icarus and picked up a fresh one from Myalis. Only six rounds. ¡°Got it,¡± I said. As I clicked the magazine in place. Without Gomorrah¡¯s constant fire, the Antithesis were getting a lot closer. I aimed for somewhere in the middle and fired, spacing out the shots in another arc. The wall of corpses ahead of us exploded and a running Model Five charged across the no-alien¡¯s-land between. Then the black hole grenades behind it went off. I dropped Icarus, letting it dangle by my side from its strap as I whipped out my Trench Maker and sighted it at the Model Five. It wasn¡¯t necessary. The wind picked up, whipping past me and tugging me forwards. The fire roared and shifted, flames dancing up towards the six black points hovering in the air just over the wall of fire. Aliens started to be picked up and crushed into each other, and the Model Five before me slowed, then stopped, huge claws gripping at the ground even as it started to be pulled back. I fell to one knee, lessening the pull of the wind. The Model Five dug in, lowering its head even as the muscles in its legs flexed and it dragged itself forward. So I shot it in the leg a few times. It flopped backwards soundlessly and crashed into the other aliens being sucked into the burning singularity. The monofilament grenades behind them came loose and flew into the mess, still spinning and turning everything into a meaty blender. Then it stopped and for a moment everything was quiet and dark as hundreds of kilos of compressed alien meat flopped to the ground. Gomorrah slapped the side of her still-glowing gun closed. ¡°Reloaded,¡± she said. ¡°Neat,¡± I said as I tucked my handgun away. ¡°Let¡¯s keep at it, then.¡± *** Chapter Seventy - A Perfect Time for a Picnic Chapter Seventy - A Perfect Time for a Picnic ¡°Nutrition and dieting is hard! Try Nutrimin-os! Now with a percentage of your daily vitamin and mineral needs!¡± --Nutrimin-os ad, before the 2048 lawsuit that resulted in the company¡¯s bankruptcy. *** I turned left and right, looking for any aliens. Well, living aliens. There were literal piles of dead ones all around, some still crackling and burning merrily away and lighting up the mineshaft. I imagined that the mining company would have to patch the mine up a little. We¡¯d left a few holes on the floor. And the walls. And the ceiling. Mostly that was me, but I¡¯d share the blame around with Gomorrah too. ¡°Is that it?¡± I asked. ¡°Looks like it,¡± Gomorrah replied. She looked around as well, then casually hosed one pile of dead Antithesis. One of them flopped around, not entirely dead yet. ¡°There will be more, I¡¯ll bet, but I think we took out whatever the hive has acting as a mobile guard.¡± ¡°So the next batch will be... what, the immobile guard?¡± ¡°No, probably the Antithesis that guard the hive itself. Bigger, meaner bastards. But I don¡¯t think they tend to move as much. Kind of like a last line of defence.¡± ¡°To protect the queen or whatever?¡± Gomorrah looked my way. ¡°You need to pick up a damned textbook. Antithesis don¡¯t have queens. They¡¯re plants. They have root networks and flowers and seeds.¡± ¡°Right, right,¡± I said. Standing a bit taller, I stretched my back out until it popped. ¡°Can I have five to reload things?¡± Gomorrah nodded. ¡°That¡¯s probably for the best. I think we could both use a small break. I skipped breakfast.¡± I¡¯d eaten breakfast with Lucy and the kittens that morning, a messy affair with cereal and burnt pancakes and some actual eggs, but that had been... I glanced at my aug¡¯s time readout. It was nearing four in the afternoon. Not as long as it felt, but still a while ago. ¡°Yeah, I could use a bite,¡± I admitted. Gomorrah stared at the ceiling for a bit, then tugged off a glove and held her hand up for a bit. ¡°That way.¡± ¡°Uh, why?¡± I asked as I looked down the way we¡¯d come from. ¡°The air¡¯s flowing from that direction and pushing deeper into the mines. We¡¯ll be upwind of all the smoke.¡± ¡°Upwind, right... which one¡¯s that?¡± Gomorrah shrugged. ¡°Up is where the smell¡¯s coming from, down is where it¡¯s going. More or less.¡± ¡°Guess snacking with smoke in the air¡¯s going to make it taste bad.¡± ¡°Oh, the smell isn''t the problem,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I like the smell of burning Antithesis. It¡¯s earthy. It¡¯s the chemicals I use in Archangel¡¯s Kiss. They¡¯re all sorts of cancerous, and toxic, and generally liable to leave you dead from inhaling them.¡± ¡°You named your flamethrower Archangel¡¯s Kiss?¡± I asked. ¡°Is that... like, some of your repressed nature trying to come out?¡± Gomorrah started walking off. ¡°I was thinking of a more biblical angel.¡± ¡°A hot dude with wings? Kinda disappointed, I thought you batted for the winning team.¡± She sniffed. ¡°I bat for the winning team¡ªGod¡¯s team.¡± She was quiet for a moment, and I didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°That was far cornier than I thought it would be.¡± ¡°Yeah, it was pretty bad.¡± ¡°Also, biblical angels are more... wings and wheels and eyes. Here, I¡¯ll send you a document about it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s a fascinating read.¡± ¡°It has pictures.¡± I snorted. We reached a point some hundred metres away from the carnage, and I saw Gomorrah raise a hand just before she caught something out of the air. A blanket? She unfolded it and set it on the ground, then sat down atop it. I didn¡¯t even bother questioning it and just sat down next to her. It was nice to get some weight off my feet, even if my boots were stupid-comfortable. ¡°Have you tried Protector food?¡± ¡°Uh, just the juice boxes,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re going to love this then. Anything you won¡¯t eat?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a malnourished orphan, my list of foods I¡¯m picky about is real small. Though I¡¯m not fond of mushrooms, they¡¯re just rich people mold.¡± ¡°Right,¡± she said as two boxes appeared between us. Both were roughly rectangular, and made of a familiar plastic-ish material, though the hinges on the back were a bit different than the cases I was used to. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Gomorrah slid her mask off and took a deep breath. ¡°That¡¯s better. The mask is comfortable, but it¡¯s a bit stuffy.¡± I reached up and undid the clasps holding my helmet in place, then pulled it off. My hair was a sweaty mess, and my head felt lighter without the weight of the helmet on it. It did feel nice. The air stank a bit of dust and smoke and gunpowder. Or maybe that was just my cloak. Gomorrah handed me one of the boxes and I fiddled around with it for a bit before the case popped open and released a puff of steam. I stared. There was a small spork clipped to the top. The rest of the MRE had what looked like a square of shepherd''s pie and a small sandwich, with some veggies here and there with some sauce drizzled on them. Probably a healthier, more balanced meal than I¡¯d had... ever. The problem was that the sandwich was cut to look like a cat¡¯s face, with little carrot-stick whiskers and a little cheese nose. ¡°Myalis, is this a joke?¡± I didn¡¯t do anything. I whipped around to stare at Gomorrah, a Gomorrah who was very pointedly not looking my way, and who had a suspicious quirk to her lips. I picked up a whisker and bit into it angrily. That was enough to break Gomorrah, and she started to titter. ¡°I didn¡¯t take you for a bully,¡± I said. ¡°A bully?¡± she asked. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°You¡¯re just kicking a girl while she¡¯s down,¡± I said. The nun rolled her eyes, still holding back laughter. ¡°Get over it.¡± ¡°You know this means war,¡± I said. ¡°You are terrifying,¡± she said. ¡°Can I rub your belly until you feel better?¡± I wanted to throw one of the little carrots at her, but they were absurdly good, and I wasn¡¯t going to waste food. ¡°This is really good,¡± I said as I took a bite from the sandwich. The bread was good, and the meat and sauce and cheese inside were also... good. I lacked words to appropriately describe how it tasted, but it was definitely a whole order of magnitude better than some of the crap I''d tasted before. ¡°Mmm, have you tried the little juice boxes?¡± ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re great. Which ones did you try?¡± ¡°There are more flavours?¡± I asked. ¡°The strawberry one tastes really nice. There¡¯s a milkshake one too.¡± ¡°Oh, damn,¡± I said. ¡°Milkshakes give me the runs though.¡± Gomorrah lowered her spork. ¡°Could you not be quite that candid? Besides, I think there¡¯s a world of difference in quality from whatever you drank before.¡± ¡°Pretty sure the ones I tried didn¡¯t have any milk in them. Though the ¡®shakes¡¯ part was entirely accurate.¡± ¡°You¡¯re disgusting,¡± she said. I grinned over at her. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll stop. But it¡¯s really fun to rile you up.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Some friend.¡± I only smiled harder. ¡°Yeah, actually.¡± The nun actually looked as though she was starting to blush before she wiped it all away with a scowl. ¡°Do you have any plans for the rest of the hive?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be fighting bigger, uglier bastards, right? I figure running in there guns blazing might be fun, but not all that safe. Maybe I can sneak ahead? Except this time I just plant a whole load of bombs all over and set them off all at once.¡± ¡°And then we sweep in and pick off the rest,¡± Gomorrah said. She took a bite from some veggie that crunched wetly, then nodded. ¡°Simple, but it might work.¡± ¡°Does your chuuni fire cannon need air to work?¡± ¡°My what?¡± she asked. I pointed to the flamethrower. ¡°It¡¯s called the Archangel¡¯s Kiss. And no, it doesn¡¯t require air to burn. But having an oxygen-rich environment wouldn¡¯t hurt. Why?¡± ¡°Because I have these neat thermobaric bombs, and I think they¡¯re pretty intense when they go off in tight spaces.¡± Gomorrah bit her lower lip in a way that I would have enjoyed had I been trying to be flirty or something. ¡°That is a nice idea,¡± she said. ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± I said. I noticed that my MRE was done. I couldn¡¯t remember shovelling the last of it down, but I suppose I had. ¡°Anyway, I need to reload on ammo for my handgun, and refill the cats. I guess I¡¯ll leave them with you while I range ahead?¡± ¡°That sounds fair.¡± Gomorrah stood, then gave me a hand up too. ¡°Now, let¡¯s burn this hive down, shall we?¡± *** Stray Bun Art Contest! Welcome, one and all, to the Stray Bun Art Contest! Let¡¯s start with the fun part! The winners of this contest will receive the following: First Place:

A signed copy of Stray Cat Strut, Volume One
A can of award winning, Blair¡¯s maple syrup. This is the syrup that won the World Champion, Reserve Grand Champion, and Millenium Champion titles. (It¡¯s the good stuff)
Three months of Royal Road Premium

Second Place:

A signed copy of Stray Cat Strut, Volume One
One month of Royal Road Premium

Third Place:

A signed copy of Stray Cat Strut, Volume One
One month of Royal Road Premium

This contest will run from Today (May 10th), to the 10th of June! How do you participate? A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Send your incredible artwork to me via PM on Royal Road. Please use a linkable site like Imgur to post your image. On the 10th, all the artwork will be unveiled to my patrons who will be able to vote on the pieces they like the most, with yours truly acting as a tie-breaker. (Of note: you retain rights over your own art, I have no intention of using any of it for advertising, though the artwork will be posted for the world to see!) A few small rules:

No lewds or overly suggestive images of underaged characters. Keep it PG13. Kissing and hugging and cuddles are fine, but... keep in mind that Broccoli and friends are all still teens. Cat and Lucy... aren¡¯t.
No limit on the number of artworks you can submit, but only one prize per person. I know some of you are insanely talented and could probably take all three places.
By entering you consent to having your art posted on Royal Road, Space Battles and ScribbleHub for display.
If you do win, then I¡¯ll contact you and ask for a P.O. Box or mailing address to send the book/syrup to. (I regularly send signed copies to Europe and Asia and North America, so I don¡¯t foresee any difficulties in reaching most participants, but if there is an issue with postage, we¡¯ll figure it out!)
Super low-effort posts, or those wildly off-topic, will be ignored. Good memes will be shared on my Discord.
Winners will be determined by the 15th of June!

Keep warm! And may the bun be with you! Chapter Seventy-One - Chlorine Trifluoride Chapter Seventy-One - Chlorine Trifluoride ¡°Don¡¯t use explosives in enclosed spaces. Especially when you¡¯re in those spaces.¡± --Someone with common sense. *** I wiggled my head around to make sure my helmet was on snug. It slipped down a little more, and then held on tight. Good enough. ¡°Alright, so, just give me like, half an hour? We can still chat in the meantime, I think we don¡¯t need to worry about signals and such.¡± ¡°Very well,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Do avoid setting any bombs off until we¡¯re ready. You¡¯ll probably just kill yourself if you do.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try not to,¡± I said. ¡°I really want to use fuel-air bombs, but we might settle for some nanite bombs, or bombs that melt aliens.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see why we couldn¡¯t mix it up.¡± I nodded. ¡°DDT on steroids or something,¡± I said. I paused, looked at my mecha cats, then down the darkened tunnel I would be travelling down all on my own. I wasn¡¯t actually concerned for myself, but I did kind of feel bad about leaving Gomorrah behind. ¡°The cats will keep you company, alright?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°And if I bite the bullet, you take care of my kittens for me, okay?¡± The nun placed her hands on her hips, her flamethrower left to dangle by her side. ¡°You have no business being so fatalistic,¡± she said. I grinned as I stepped up and wrapped her in a quick hug. I wasn¡¯t a hugger, no matter what Lucy accused me of, but... well, it felt nice. ¡°See you in a bit, nun-girl.¡± Firing off a sloppy salute, I took off into the darkness. My coat¡¯s invisibility wrapped around me, then my cloak came on and I flipped my hood up onto my head. I kept up a light jog, just fast enough to get my heart beating, but not so much that I¡¯d exhaust myself. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s talk bombs,¡± I said. I have two suggestions. First, seeing as how both yourself and Gomorrah are fond of large explosions and copious amounts of fire, an aerosolized agent might be a decent solution to clear out a majority of the mines. ¡°So like, a gas that burns and hovers in the air?¡± I asked. Essentially, yes. There are many variations available, but I would suggest a rather stable one, one unlikely to be immediately detected by the Antithesis and one that will only ignite under very specific conditions. ¡°So I don¡¯t accidentally blow myself up, that¡¯s always great.¡± I would suggest aerosolized chlorine trifluoride. Bonded with a chemical agent that stabilizes it until either introduced to extreme heat, or minute amounts of hydrogen fluoride, which is a by-product of the chlorine trifluoride reaction. I frowned. ¡°So it won¡¯t go off until introduced to some chemical that it produces when it¡¯s already going off?¡± Hence creating a chain reaction, yes. ¡°Does it burn good?¡± Yes. Chlorine trifluoride burns... good. ¡°Cool. So what was the other option?¡± I asked. I wasn¡¯t super smart, but I knew that setting off a big flaming explosion in the tight quarters of a tunnel I was in was a bad idea. There were ways to make it safe... safe-ish, and I intended to use those if I could. The other options are slower-acting. Either an aerosolized acidic compound, pushed deeper into the mines to try and burn out the hive, or a more precise use of nanites designed to break apart Antithesis matter. ¡°That sounds handy. But slow.¡± It would be considerably slower than merely burning everything, yes. I passed the piles of burned bodies that Gomorrah and I had created, then reached into my jacket and hesitated. Handgun or grenade launcher? I was trying to be stealthy... and I also had room in my underslung sheath. ¡°Need a handgun, something subtle.¡± I¡¯ve been eagerly awaiting for an opportunity to present this particular weapon to you. It¡¯s a weapon that is entirely silent. It¡¯s from both your stealth catalogue and Sunwatcher catalogues, as opposed to any of your weapon catalogues. I slowed my jog down to a quick walk, then slowed down some more when I reached the curve where I¡¯d first met some aliens. I didn¡¯t want to come around and meet another group head-on, not if I could avoid it. Couldn¡¯t hear any of them though. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. The weapons system is called the Claw. It¡¯s not technically a gun, but rather a range-finder and teleportation system. ¡°How does it kill things?¡± I asked. Within the weapon is a magazine filled with spring-loaded rods, each with ten blades held in place by a trigger. On deploying, these blades open up, and the entire rod rotates around its own axis until all of the kinetic energy within is spent. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. Myalis decided to send me a neat image, of a silver cylinder that went from looking like a nice pen to turning into a spinning ball of knives for a couple of seconds. ¡°Very stealthy,¡± I said. The Claw system teleports one of these rods into the target you are aiming at. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. I watched as the video changed to what looked like an MRI of one of those rods going off inside a cow. It didn¡¯t seem to do more than chip away at bone. For anything else, it acted like an industrial blender set on smoothie mode. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°And it¡¯s noiseless?¡± The vacuum created by teleporting the rod is funnelled out of the Claw after each shot, it¡¯s the loudest noise created by the weapon, and it¡¯s no louder than your breathing. ¡°Does it look like a cat?¡± I asked. It can be made to not look like a cat, if you insist. ¡°I think I do. How much is it?¡± Two hundred and fifty points. I winced at the price, but then... ¡°What am I at?¡± Current Point Total: 2741 ¡°Oh,¡± I said. That changed things a little. ¡°Sure then.¡± New Purchase: Claw, Range-Finding and Teleportation System Points Reduced from... 2741 to... 2491 The gun came in a little box. It was significantly smaller than my Trench Maker, and not much of a gun at all. It had a handle, ergonomic and rubber-y, with a trigger, but that¡¯s about where it ended. The entire thing just looked like a box with a pair of lenses on the end and a recessed tube on the bottom. There was a knob next to where my thumb naturally fit. It was surprisingly heavy though. My augs connected to it, and I noticed a new reticule appearing on the ground where the not-gun was aimed. It had a ¡®depth¡¯ meter next to it. It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out that turning the knob up and down changed the depth. ¡°Neat,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s find something to blend real fast.¡± I found a crack in the wall around the next bend, a hole that looked like it had been melted out of the stone, with large, obvious claw-marks scrabbling at the stone. ¡°Think they¡¯re down there?¡± I asked. The hole is rather small. I eyed it up. It was a bit of a squeeze. If I went in there, I¡¯d have a bitch of a time moving around. And if some alien came down the other way... That, and it was smaller than some of the models Gomorrah and I had cooked. They couldn¡¯t have come from here. ¡°Bomb,¡± I said. Chlorine trifluoride? ¡°Yeah.¡± The canister was roughly energy-drink sized, made of some silvery metal and with little legs at its base. I set it down, then pressed the one button atop it. The bomb synched up with my augmentations a moment later, labelled as ¡®bomb one.¡¯ So, I could activate it at range? Made sense. I continued down the main tunnel, trying to shake off distracting thoughts and focus on the path ahead. Couldn¡¯t help but imagine that Gomorrah was bored back where I¡¯d left her, but she was a big girl, she¡¯d figure it out. Something shuffled ahead, and I stopped mid-step. There were lumps, here and there on the ground, unmoving. I couldn¡¯t see them, not well. I figured they were rocks or something, but then one shuffled forwards, pulling itself along on one leg. An Antithesis? One that was obviously very much injured. The streaks across the ground, barely visible as more darkness against the dark, had to have been from dragged aliens. I didn¡¯t know they could retreat. Raising my Claw up, I shifted it around until the reticule sat atop the alien, then I adjusted the depth. Five centimetres seemed to be the max. I fired. The not-gun shifted a bit, losing some weight a moment before it sort of just... inhaled. The Antithesis slumped. ¡°Well,¡± I muttered. ¡°I guess it is a stealth weapon.¡± *** Chapter Seventy-Two - Model Thirteen Chapter Seventy-Two - Model Thirteen ¡°The amount of footage we have of an active hive is, even after all these years, very limited. Ten years, and nearly forty incursions, and this is all the video captured of the breeding ground of the enemy.¡± --What to Expect When You¡¯re Not Expecting Aliens, 2031 *** ¡°Myalis, what the fuck is that?¡± I hissed after ducking down. I didn¡¯t want... whatever the fuck that was spotting me. That was a giant squid thing. It wasn¡¯t that big, but it took up a lot of space. I couldn¡¯t count the number of tentacles on it. There were at least nine big ones, but dozens of smaller, whip-ier ones, like... Lucy liked pictures of flowers, so I¡¯d seen my share, and the smaller tentacles looked like the little stems on lilies. Narrow and green, with a lump at the end. Only these were twice as long as I was tall. The problem was that this squid-thing had three bodies, each of them about as big as I was, and connected together by some of those bigger tentacles. I was pretty sure each body had wings too, like a cockroach''s. It looked like something a drunk god created mid-hangover. That is a Model Thirteen. It¡¯s a hive-defence model. You must be close to the hive. ¡°The number¡¯s nice,¡± I said. ¡°But I need more than just that.¡± Model Thirteens are mid-sized close-quarters combat units. They are, essentially, flowers connected to the hive itself. Once deployed, they will die naturally after twelve to fourteen hours, or faster if they exert themselves. They have no mouth with which to feed. I nodded, encouraging her to go on. They are generally the last line of defence for a hive. Not tough, but difficult to kill. They can¡¯t quite fly, but they can leap very high and glide a little. It¡¯s worth noting that all three brains must be destroyed to fully kill a Model Thirteen. Their primary appendages, the thicker ones, end in hardened blades. These are essentially just chitin plates with sharpened edges. The smaller appendages have blocks of waste material at the ends, usually quite heavy. They can whip these at speeds approaching the supersonic. I took a moment to process that. Tough to kill, super mobile, and they had big chunks of fuck-you at the end of their big tentacles. Also, the little ones could whip out probably faster than I could react. ¡°Waste material?¡± Materials an Antithesis hive can¡¯t find a use for. Some heavy metals, radioactive elements, certain gases like ozone. Calcium nitrate. Anything the hive can¡¯t find an immediate use for, but that it doesn¡¯t wish to part with too easily. Storing it with a Model Thirteen keeps it close to the main hive and if a segment of the hive needs a small amount of a rare element, the Model Thirteen can detach and cross a great distance at high speeds to deliver it. I was maybe some three hundred metres deeper into the mine, two forks away from where Gomorrah was likely waiting for me. I didn¡¯t think the hive was right around the corner, but I was certainly getting closer. Leaning forwards, I snuck my head around again. Maybe I could catch a glimpse of the Model Thirteen again and plug a few holes into it with my shiny new gun? It wasn¡¯t there. That had to be half a tonne of tentacles and freaky squid bodies that was missing. I swallowed, then looked up. There it was, hanging onto the ceiling like some sort of spider. Its three heads were all turning this way and that, the many eyes on them scanning across the darkened tunnels. I held still, the deer caught in the headlights. Could I take it? Probably. A couple of grenades with short fuses. My Icarus if I could get it out in time. For all that it had a bunch of tentacles, I was sure a few rounds of HE would do a number on it. Myalis didn¡¯t say it was tough, just that it had a lot of... redundant biology. The Model Thirteen moved, shooting down the tunnel behind me with a tick-tick-tick from its tentacles tapping the stone. It was ridiculously fast. ¡°Tell Gomorrah that she¡¯s going to have company,¡± I whispered. Message sent. At least I knew I was in the right direction. I asked Myalis for another chlorine trifluoride dispenser, which I carefully sat in a nook where a few rocks had fallen out of the otherwise smooth wall. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Myalis said the dispersal range for the aerosolized gas was going to be about a hundred metres, or fifty in both directions from the can. Being in a tunnel helped a lot. Still, the last dozen metres of that would only be lightly sprayed in the few seconds after the canister opened up, so I was setting a new bomb every twenty or thirty metres or so. So I wasn¡¯t being very accurate with my no-doubt-war-crime-level bomb placement, sue me. I continued down the tunnel, now paying a whole lot more attention to the ceiling above in case another Model Thirteen decided to show up. The big bastards freaked me out. They were... wrong. Not just the tentacle-ness of them. That was not too unexpected. Model Fours had a lot of those and they weren¡¯t too weird. Ugly, but not too weird. It took a moment to twig onto what was wrong with the Model Thirteens. They had three faces. Or at least three sets of eyes with noses and all that. Three heads on one creature was just... entirely wrong. I paused a ways down, set another bomb out behind a little stone, then continued on my way. There was another rock ahead, it looked like a good spot for another bomb. I slowed, eyes narrowing in the dark. I couldn¡¯t see well, just from my cybernetic eye, and with absolutely no light to work with, even that wasn¡¯t great. Still, I was pretty sure that rock had just twitched, my sonar told me that much. Rocks weren¡¯t supposed to move. I pulled up my Claw, aimed right at the rock, and fired a shot. If I was wrong, then maybe I¡¯d make a bit of noise. If I wasn¡¯t... The rock twitched, stood up, and took two steps before flopping down. Target Eliminated! Reward: 25 points New Total: 2416 points I lowered my Claw. ¡°God damned Model Nines,¡± I muttered as I continued down the mine. I left a bomb on the end of the tunnel opposite the Model Nine corpse. A little later I paused again. There was something very much alien out ahead. Big leafy things, each one about as big as I was, pressed against the walls and set so close together they nearly touched. ¡°What the hell are those?¡± I whispered even as I moved to be opposite them. Those are fin leaves. They serve as both heat dispersal, and energy generation. A very interesting form of kinetic energy generation. It¡¯s common with hives that are not able to collect sunlight or that are situated underground. The leaves are entirely harmless... unless you eat them. Do not eat them.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t planning on it,¡± I muttered. Approaching the leaves, I could actually feel the heat in the air. They were hot. Not oven hot or anything, but definitely a few degrees warmer than the ambient temperature. I placed a bomb next to them. Maybe that would warm them up even more. . ¡°We¡¯re close,¡± I said. Very. Be cautious. ¡°Keep me informed about... you know, alien shit. I don¡¯t like not knowing.¡± I moved away from the leaves, still keeping a wary eye on them. I¡¯d have blown them up, but the noise would have been a problem. The passage bent again ahead of us, and strangely enough, it seemed to open up too. A larger section? It sorta made sense. The mine was designed to go after specific spots in the ground, where whatever they were mining for was most common. That meant when they reached a deposit they¡¯d mine it all out. A bit sloppy, maybe, but I was hardly complaining. The bigger room was filled. Roots, or something like roots, clung to the walls, with big, bulbous sacks hanging from them like grapes in a fancy wine commercial. The ground was covered in foliage, and in that mess were hundreds of aliens. Model Threes moving in packs, Model Fours in small units, a few Model Fives. There were others too, some of those giant worms moving in and out of narrow holes in the walls, and tree-like stalks across the room with big gourds on them had flowers that I recognized as Model Thirteens. There had to be a few hundred aliens. Maybe a thousand. And that wasn¡¯t including the tons of plantlife. The centre of the room looked like a jungle in miniature. I was going to need a whole lot of bombs. *** Chapter Seventy-Three - A Walkabout Chapter Seventy-Three - A Walkabout ¡°It was actually something of a blessing. Botany as a science was taken seriously, but it was always treated as... dare I say, inferior. The less intelligent cousin of biology. Who cares about people concerned over stuff like plants? And then aliens invaded. Plant aliens. I never saw so much grant money being flung around in my life. Suddenly, everyone wanted to know more about how plants worked, and we realized that for all that we knew, it was only really enough to know how little we had dug into it. Let me tell you, having the president ask you where a tree has its brain is a trip.¡± --Excerpt from Leafy Me - A Memoir, 2028 *** I hesitated for a while as I considered what to do. There was a lot of hive, and there were a lot of aliens moving around. Though, I guess pointing out a difference between the two was kind of useless. The big egg sacs... seeds? The big things, in which the aliens I was familiar with spawned, grew fast. I could tell that some of them had grown in the ten or so minutes since I arrived. How long did it take the hive to grow a Model Three? It didn¡¯t matter, I guess. In the end, they¡¯d all need to be burned down one way or another. I eyed some models that were jumping around from branch to branch, often stopping by a sac that looked ready to be harvested and helping it down. A couple of them gathered around each fresh alien murder machine and lowered it down, then they tore off the wrapping, as it were, and quickly brushed down the fur or whatever of the Antithesis they uncovered. ¡°What are those?¡± I asked. My helmet kept my voice from escaping any. Model Tens. Though they should by all rights be called Model Ones. They are one of the original Antithesis models, with very little by means of changes even across centuries of evolution. They are mostly harmless, and will only attack if something threatens the hive directly, and even then, it will usually be an attempt to distract and win time for other combat-models to be born. The back of their palms has a small bill that is sharp; it is their only natural weapon other than their grip. They looked like weird monkeys. Headless, six-limbed monkeys. Their face was where anything else¡¯s neck and clavicle would be, and their limbs all ended in strange hands. Three fingers, and two thumbs on either end. They moved by springing and bouncing forward and swinging along on the many vines and branches sticking out of the hive. ¡°Neat,¡± I said. It was, in a sort of academic way, I guess. ¡°Where¡¯s the hive¡¯s brain?¡± An Antithesis hive has no brain. ¡°How does it think?¡± I asked. The same way any other plant does. It grows, expands, and evolves to suit its environment. It is not intelligent in any traditional sense, but it is infinitely persistent. You will never see an Antithesis surrendering, or tiring in the face of adversity. That somehow made it worse. ¡°So I burn the whole thing down, got it.¡± I wasn¡¯t going to just fling canisters onto the Hive and hope none of the models crawling on it noticed me. Looking past the main, forest-like body of it revealed some other mine shafts, three of them. The hive had grown that way too, at least from what little I could see with the bioluminescent light coming off some of the stalks. If I wanted to burn the whole thing out in one go, I¡¯d need to cut off all the paths around it, not just this one big lump. Which meant actually going there. I started walking near the edge of the room, moving slowly, and keeping an eye on all the models moving around in little packs. They seemed to be gathering in little groups, mostly by size. A few flowers had blossomed here and there, with some sort of liquid sitting in them. The Antithesis models came to those flowers and would drink up some of that juice before moving on. I guessed that was how they fed? I stopped when a big worm slithered out of a wall and started moving across the room. It halted some half-dozen metres ahead, then started to contract and expand while making a deep, disgusting retching noise. I almost gagged when the worm vomited on a bed of large, lily-pad like leaves. Blood and gore, some sort of mulch and the recognizable remains of something meaty. Not a human, some sort of... deer, maybe? It had hoofed feet, at least. I noticed a dog in there, or maybe it was some poor fox. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Some Model Tens rushed over and started grabbing chunks out of the mess, and then leapt away; others formed up and lifted the heavier bits, three to a side. ¡°What are they doing with that?¡± The parts will be brought to a digestion chamber where they will be broken down for nutrients, with some of the smaller pieces being broken down further and absorbed into the Antithesis¡¯ genetic banks. Given enough resources, it may try to recreate whatever creature that was, or modify a current model. ¡°Like cloning?¡± No. It¡¯s far, far less efficient. It will essentially create hundreds of models with random mutations made from splicing recreated genes into the original model seed. Most of these will be entirely non-functional. On occasion, with one chance in several hundred thousand, a model will be born with a useful new trait or adaptation, and that model will be consumed so that future models can mimic this new change. You have encountered new Model Threes already, the larger, more tiger-like ones. ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered. ¡°One in a hundred thousand sounds like bad odds. Even if they¡¯re eating the failures and starting over.¡± The Antithesis thrive in magnitude above all else. This hive is about as small as a hive can be while still being fully functional. It can likely produce some hundred Model Threes an hour. One thousand hours at its current size to produce one useful mutation. Most hives can produce thousands to tens of thousands of Model Threes an hour. That is assuming there are beneficial mutation in the local wildlife. I nodded and moved on. I didn¡¯t plan on letting this place stand for a thousand more hours. Walking a bit faster, I moved past the giant worm as it headed back out, only slowing down enough to get another bomb and tuck it next to the hole it had come out of. I¡¯d need a dozen bombs all around the room if I wanted to burn it all, I figured, and with the current diameter of it, just having some on the edges might not be enough. I had no idea how flammable the hive itself was. Stop! I froze, one foot raised. Then I looked down and noticed the little vines across the ground. Was that it? I¡¯d been stepping on roots and stuff already. That¡¯s a vine from a Model Thirteen. It would alert it. It didn¡¯t take much to notice the huge, flower-like body nearby, still clinging onto the side of a tree-like pillar. ¡°Thanks,¡± I whispered. This place wasn¡¯t safe. For some reason, it was hard to keep that in mind. Maybe it was because I wasn¡¯t actively fighting anything. If the hive goes on alert, you will have a much harder time moving across it. I nodded and kept low, only pausing to kneel down over a spot where two roots met and order another bomb to tuck away. I noticed some leafy plant wavering in the air at my passing. Was the hive sensing something? I chose not to find out. The first passage wasn¡¯t very profound. It ended some hundred metres in, a huge machine wedged into the tunnel, with some lights on around it and plenty of signs that the hive had been poking at the device. ¡°They can¡¯t use tech, right?¡± I asked. No. Though they can, on rare occasions, observe and replicate the effects of technology, especially the more mechanical parts. ¡°Great, that¡¯s all we need. Aliens pedaling bikes around.¡± They don¡¯t do wheels very well. I left a bomb next to the mining machine. It was huge, and probably cost more money than someone like me-- someone like I used to be would see in ten lifetimes. Sucked for the company that I¡¯d be burning it down. The next passage was a lot more interesting. More of those fin leaves, hundreds of them, all lined up against the walls. The tunnel here seemed to be moving upwards a little bit too. It was hot, hot and humid. ¡°Think there might be an exit down this way,¡± I said. It was just a gut feeling, but when Gomorrah and I came back down to investigate, this was the path we¡¯d take. I knelt down and placed a canister next to some of the leaves, then another some thirty or so metres deeper into the mine. I got up, patted my pants down, then turned right into the waiting tentacles of a monster. *** Chapter Seventy-Four - Sprint Chapter Seventy-Four - Sprint ¡°Being on coms means providing the information that will keep people alive [...] You can generally tell when something has gone wrong when the people at the other end start swearing incoherently.¡± --Excerpt from a Guide to Wartime Communications, 2045 *** I think the only reason I didn¡¯t get myself dead was because the monster was expecting me as much as I was expecting it. The Model Thirteen was hovering close to the ground, a few of its tentacles holding it up while its much smaller tentacles were reaching out ahead of it. At a guess, it felt as if it was searching for something, like looking for something by touch when the lights are off. Had it noticed me before? Or maybe it was just suspicious. It didn¡¯t matter. The alien was definitely staring at me with all three of its faces. I pulled my Claw up and fired, barely even making sure that the reticule was lined up with one of its bodies. A whip-crack sounded out and I felt as if someone had just punched me right in the chest. I¡¯d gotten into trouble once. A bunch of middle-class looking assholes had been visiting the ground-level, and they started to annoy Lucy and a couple of the other kids. They probably wouldn¡¯t do anything, just some older teens being assholes. Of course, I was filled with more nerves than sense back then, and I wanted to impress Lucy, so I started a fight with them. The sensation of all the air in my lungs being rammed out of them was hard to forget. I saw a glimmer in the air as my coat¡¯s shield thing stopped a few more tendrils whipping out at me, but it was only a glimpse before I crashed down a few metres back and rolled. ¡°Guns,¡± I gasped. My shoulder-mounted weapons deployed and immediately fired. A railgun shot tore a hole through one of the Model Thirteen¡¯s bodies, but that barely made it hitch before it drove itself forwards. ¡°Shit!¡± I rolled back. With my cloaks still on, it would--I hoped--have a better chance dodging the whips, and rolling would get me further back. Problem was, while rolling I wasn¡¯t firing back. My plasma caster took some potshots, but it kept folding back in not to stop my roll. The Model Thirteen loomed large above me, the hardened ends of its larger tentacles crashing into the ground. I gasped as one of them rammed me in the side. It didn¡¯t pierce through my coat, and my undersuit hardened, stopping it from crushing me. Still hurt like a bitch, and it had effectively pinned me in place. I placed my Claw against the limb and fired, then I fired again and again. I imagined that having a tentacle filled with a few spinning blenders wasn¡¯t great for the Model Thirteen. I tugged my coat out from under it with one arm, while aiming up with my Claw. My railgun fired into one of its bodies, so I aimed at the one next to it and fired my Claw until a warning filled my vision.

OUT OF AMMO?

¡°Fuck!¡± My plasma caster painted a line of burning fire into the Model Thirteen¡¯s other body, even as the Antithesis leapt away from me and clung to the ceiling. It began to scurry around, avoiding bullets with a speed and agility that was really starting to piss me off. I dropped my Claw, tore my Trench Maker from my coat, and started to stand. Its tentacles bunched up under it and the alien launched itself at me, smaller whips already cracking as they shot at me. I had time to plant two shots into one of its bodies before it crashed into me and we both crashed back. Fighting it off, I wiggled and struggled and cursed until I realised that it wasn¡¯t fighting back. Target Eliminated! Reward: 100 points New Total: 2446 point I panted for a bit, then squeezed out from under the Model Thirteen¡¯s corpse. You might want to hurry. The hive is now aware of you. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. I stumbled to my feet. A bit sore, but not dead, and not injured as far as I could tell. That might not stay the case. The hive was... changing. The trees were shifting, the egg sacs were nearly all falling down, regardless of how ready the models within were, and all of those other models looked agitated as hell, with a whole load of them heading my way. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. I tucked my Trench Maker away, ran over to pick up my Claw, then tugged my Icarus out. ¡°Fragmentation.¡± I said. I fired, again and again, with a high arc that had my shots landing right in the meat of the hive and near some packs of Model Threes. Then I let my big gun slip back down so that it hung by its strap and I started running. Not away from the aliens, but towards them. I was still stealthed, and my augs said that my cloak and coat and suit were all still at 100%. I trusted them. The moment I was back in the main room of the hive I turned a sharp right and continued running. A few Model Threes, those nearest the tunnel mouth, shot into the mineshaft I¡¯d just left. Good. The Model Thirteens detaching themselves from their trees with loud squelches didn¡¯t inspire confidence. If one could find me... I ran past the last side-tunnel I hadn¡¯t explored. ¡°Bomb,¡± I hissed before underhanding the canister into the passage. That would have to do for whatever was down there. I dropped another beside me, then I flung one at the centre of the hive, and winced as about four different sorts of aliens jumped on it and started scrambling at the canister. I was breathing hard as I shot past aliens, moving just a few metres past them and hoping they wouldn¡¯t notice. If they did, then I had to hope that there was enough chaos around to keep them busy. ¡°Myalis,¡± I hissed. ¡°Cats. Three of them. Not in a box!¡± Certainly! The thumps sounded out, one after each step I took. A glance back revealed three mecha cats unfolding to their full height. Then it was two as a Model Thirteen¡¯s whip smashed one of them apart. The other two jumped back, plasma claws burning and back-mounted guns unfolding to spray bullets all over the place. They didn¡¯t even need to aim to hit an alien, there were so many scrambling after me. The hive¡¯s attention turned on them, and I pressed myself to move faster. Maybe cardio really was a good idea. I flicked another canister to the side. The more fire, the better, I figured. A Model Thirteen dropped from the ceiling ahead of me and I cursed as I whipped out my Trench Maker. I emptied the magazine into its centremost body, and my Railgun unfolded to punch a hole into the leftmost. My plasma gun spat fire at the third, blinding it for long enough that I was able to duck under one of its tentacles and could continue running. I wasn¡¯t the only one running. All the little models were rushing about, and the sacs on the side were being torn open from the inside. Model Tens were zipping around all over, and I swore as one of them jumped at me, all six limbs trying to grab me at the same time. I punched it, but it caught my hand. So I finally got to use the plasma claws in my cybernetic hand, the inch-long burning nails melting into the model before I flung its corpse aside. One of them jumped onto my back, and I swiped it off with my tail, the plasma thagomizer on the end of my tail batting it aside. I was losing the advantage I had from my stealth. ¡°I need grenades. Garrotes! Just keep giving me more!¡± I caught the first to appear and flung it over my shoulder after thumbing the trigger on it. It started to blend the models behind me. Three more tossed back the same way helped, and I started to underhand some ahead of me, trying to place them around the entrance of the tunnel I¡¯d come into the Hive from. My railgun was spinning and firing, my plasma gun hissing as a rejoinder. The garrote grenades, with their wildly spinning mess of whippy wires, created a narrow passage, one that I squeezed through before turning around and tugging my Trench Maker out again. I planted a few rounds into the first aliens through the crack, at least until I clicked empty. I cursed, spun on a heel, and bolted down the centre of the tunnel. The garrotes wouldn¡¯t last forever, and the passage between was big enough for plenty of models to pass through. I had to get out of the AOE of my gas bombs so I could burn this entire place to the ground. Totally starting to sympathize with Gomorrah¡¯s love of burning shit. *** Chapter Seventy-Five - Triggering, But the Fun Sort Where Things Explode Chapter Seventy-Five - Triggering, But the Fun Sort Where Things Explode ¡°People go on and on about what can turn a lady on. Nice men, nicer women, fat stacks of cash. Power. They¡¯re right about the last one. We do love power, especially when it¡¯s nice and packaged and easily weaponized. Some folk think that the purest form of that is the cannon, and it¡¯s true; bitches love cannons. But a lady? A lady likes explosives.¡± --Salamander Storm, 2041 *** I wasn¡¯t an endurance runner. Or any other sort of runner. I was more of a ¡®sit with Lucy on my lap¡¯ kind of girl. My breaths came hot and fast, my heart beat all crooked, as my thighs and calves burned. Still, I didn¡¯t have the option to stop and catch a breather. ¡°My-Myalis, ammo,¡± I huffed, my Icarus raised in one hand. A magazine appeared before me and I caught it out of the air and slapped it into place. I barely aimed as I ran sideways for a bit and held the trigger down. Most of the aliens behind me were Model Threes, but there were others, Model Tens riding along, and farther back--but catching up--were Model Thirteens. I¡¯d be swarmed soon. I needed a moment to think and act. ¡°Garrote!¡± I caught the grenade, jammed my thumb over its trigger, then flicked it behind me underhand. That wouldn¡¯t do jack to stop them, but it might mulch a couple before they caught up to me. I needed something bigger, that didn¡¯t explode. ¡°Gas!¡± I said. ¡°Acid.¡± Another grenade, this one a canister. I flipped the top off and dropped it by my feet a second before it started to hiss and spit. A glance behind me showed that the gas was expanding and climbing to the ceiling. It would mess with the Model Thirteen then. I was pretty sure it wouldn¡¯t kill it, but maybe injuring it would be enough. The others might live too, but every bit of damage was good in my book. I spun around a corner, the same one where Gomorrah and I had encountered the first aliens in this mine. And right there, like some sort of angel, was the woman in question. ¡°Go left,¡± she said, her head nodding to her left. I ran past her, then sighed as I felt a powerful wash of warmth at my back. My run slowed down, and I veered off towards the wall. Slumping against it while I sucked in air. My railgun and plasma caster were both out of ammo. My Claw and Trench Maker too, though those hadn¡¯t been terribly useful. All I did was take potshots at the aliens. My Icarus had... six HE rounds left. I wondered if I had time to reload. At least, until I looked over and saw the wall of fire ahead of Gomorrah. It was bright and thick enough that the only things making it through were the half-melted remains of some of the faster models, their momentum enough to carry them past the fire. My mecha cats were stationed around Gomorrah, one on each side while the third came over and stood near me. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said as soon as I turned on our comms. ¡°No problem,¡± Gomorrah replied. ¡°That Model Thirteen that came this way was something.¡± ¡°Nasty, huh?¡± I asked. ¡°It kept avoiding my fire. Your cats ended up doing a lot of the damage. I need to invest in faster-firing weapons.¡± ¡°Yeah, cool,¡± I said. ¡°Can you cover me for two minutes, I need to reload everything.¡± Gomorrah nodded. I trusted her to keep me alive for a couple of minutes. ¡°Myalis, I need a reload on everything.¡± I raised my Icarus, switched to HE, and fired the last shots remaining down the tunnel the aliens had followed me from. Figured I might hit one of them if I was lucky. Reloading my shoulder-mounted guns was a bit of a pain. The rest wasn¡¯t too bad. Myalis was giving everything to me one at a time, so I was moving at my own pace, more or less. ¡°I think we¡¯re clear,¡± Gomorrah said. She lowered her flamethrower and let the wall of fire die down a little. If I squinted, I could make out the darkened forms of burning aliens slumped over here and there. There weren¡¯t as many as I imagined, but maybe I hadn¡¯t had a good look at them. ¡°Good work,¡± I said as I slid the last magazine into my Claw, then tucked it away. ¡°That was stressful.¡± I¡¯d need a good shower after this. My coat might have been cool, but it was still warm, and all the fire and running for my life didn¡¯t help. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Did you find the hive?¡± she asked. ¡°Yeah. Nasty place. A hundred or so more models over there. I don¡¯t know if they¡¯ll stay put or not.¡± Gomorrah nodded. ¡°I¡¯d like to see the footage later.¡± ¡°Uh, sure,¡± I said. My cybernetic eye had probably recorded all of that. I bet Myalis had, at the very least. ¡°There¡¯s a tunnel past the hive that I didn¡¯t get to inspect, otherwise, I think I covered it all.¡± ¡°Did you plant any bombs?¡± ¡°Yup. Canisters full of chlorine trifluoride.¡± I was pretty proud that I didn¡¯t stumble on that one. Gomorrah turned her head my way. ¡°Canisters of what?¡± Did I mispronounce it? ¡°How many did you place?¡± she asked. ¡°About... I don¡¯t know, twenty?¡± Twenty-two canisters. ¡°Twenty-two, according to Myalis,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re pretty big. Thermos-sized, you know.¡± ¡°How much of the stuff is in each?¡± Ten litres, liquid and hyper-compressed. ¡°Ten litres,¡± I repeated with entirely unearned confidence. Gomorrah hesitated. ¡°We... should probably not be so close to them, in that case.¡± I¡¯d lost a few of my nine lives to bombs already, so a bit of caution wouldn¡¯t be amiss. ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll call up Cause Player at the same time. Want to back out of that entrance hole?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Gomorrah said. I stretched my back out as I dialed up Cause Player. It felt like I¡¯d had a weight lifted off my back, just from being so close to Gomorrah and out of the tentacle-range of so many aliens. ¡°Stray Cat,¡± Cause Player said. ¡°Are you alright?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine. We¡¯re both fine. But you might not be. Gomorrah and I are about to set off the mother of all firebombs, and I wanted to make sure you weren¡¯t in the burn radius.¡± ¡°Uh, thanks. I¡¯ll send you my coordinates. I¡¯ve been mostly exploring the off-shoot tunnels near the entrance. Not much more than some lower-level models here.¡± ¡°Good. The hive¡¯s not that big, I don¡¯t think. It¡¯s also covered in explosives. We¡¯re clearing out of the blast radius ourselves.¡± ¡°Right, can you send me the projected area of effect?¡± Sending now! ¡°Got it.... Looks like I¡¯m way out of it, should be fine. But thanks for calling.¡± Myalis had been kind enough to let me see that same map, with Cause Player¡¯s location blinking away on it, and Gomorrah and I represented by two blinking lights. The centre of the blast zone was blue, turning to purple, then red, then orange all the way to green. We were still in the yellow, but it looked like that was about to end soon. ¡°Here,¡± Gomorrah said a hundred or so metres later. Right on the edge of the yellow zone, according to Myalis¡¯ map. Seemed safe enough. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. I had twenty-one canisters marked as functional, with one of the lot marks as damaged but operational. The UI to slave them all together was as simple as checking off the ¡®select-all¡¯ box. ¡°Do you want to do the honours?¡± I asked. ¡°You set them up,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Blow away.¡± ¡°... Was that innuen--¡± ¡°Just set them off,¡± she said. I grinned and pressed the metaphorical red button. A whole lot of nothing happened. ¡°Uh,¡± I said. The ¡®Trigger¡¯ button was greyed out. I couldn¡¯t even jab it a few extra times. The canisters are spraying their load out into the air. The aerosolized chemical needs time to disperse and travel. It will trigger the actual burn when ideal saturation is reached. That is, when there¡¯s a good amount of chlorine trifluoride in the air without it being either too thick or thin. Which should be happening... now. I turned, my ears picking up a sharp ¡®tack¡¯ sound from down the tunnel. It meant that I could see the wave of dust rushing towards me. Not that I could react. My coat flapped and I took a step back as a blast of air shot past. ¡°Whoa!¡± I said. ¡°Was that it?¡± Gomorrah asked a moment later. Then the air turned and was sucked back down the mineshaft, and in the end, like some sort of vision of hell itself, came a wall of fire. The floor started to tremble, slowly, then with growing ferocity. ¡°Maybe we should run?¡± I asked. *** Chapter Seventy-Six - Fight Fire with Fire Chapter Seventy-Six - Fight Fire with Fire ¡°One way to take care of uncontrolled fire is to use more fire. At least, I think that¡¯s how it works. I don¡¯t know. I kill things, I¡¯m not a smart person!¡± --US Army, Flamethrower tank operator, 2037 *** I took a deep breath, then another when that one didn¡¯t feel so good. There was air in the... air, but it was thin, like breathing around some of the vents near street-level factories. ¡°Think it¡¯s safe?¡± I asked Gomorrah. The tunnel was pretty much cleared, the charred remains of Antithesis slumped here and there, and the walls ever so slightly blackened by the wash of fire that had burst past. I could feel a stirring in the air, wind coming in from the opening into the mines and pushing in towards the hive. Had the bombs going off created a sort of vacuum? I didn¡¯t know enough to say, really, but that sounded likely. ¡°I don¡¯t think anything about this is safe,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°But I figure it was a lot less safe for the aliens.¡± I nodded, then shuffled a bit before tucking my launcher to my shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s move in, then?¡± Gomorrah hefted up her flamethrower, the tip of the nozzle burping with a lick of flame. ¡°Take the lead?¡± ¡°Yeah, because being in front of the pyro nun is where everyone wants to be,¡± I said. She gave me a look before I chuckled and jogged ahead a bit. My mecha cats moved up around us, forming up in a wedge with me at its point and Gomorrah in its centre. We started walking down the mineshaft, at first with easy confidence, but when I started noticing the smoke pooling by the ceiling I slowed down a little. ¡°Let¡¯s take it easy, yeah?¡± I asked. ¡°Certainly,¡± Gomorrah said. I flicked my augs around and found Cause Player¡¯s contact. I sent him a quick text. S.Cat: You ok? It didn¡¯t take long for him to reply. CP: Yes. CP: Thanks for the explosion. It made for a cool scene! If he was happy about that, then he was fine. At least, that¡¯s what I figured. We came around a bend, and I slowed down as I noticed light ahead. A lot of light. Oranges and reds and yellows, splashing against the grey stone walls. ¡°That¡¯s concerning,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s a fire, way out ahead,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Do you have oxygen?¡± ¡°Just a filter,¡± I said. ¡°Do you have a catalogue with that kind of thing?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Not that I know of. Nothing specialised for it.¡± ¡°Give me a second then,¡± Gmorrah said. ¡°I have a catalogue for modular headgear.¡± ¡°Nah, it¡¯s okay,¡± I said. ¡°My helmet¡¯s cheap, anyway; it¡¯s due for an upgrade. Besides, you¡¯d get me something uncool.¡± ¡°Uncool?¡± Gomorrah repeated. She sounded a little insulted. ¡°Probably all nun-like and appropriate,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, are there any really cool helmets in my Sunwatcher catalogue? Something that¡¯ll let me breathe?¡± Gomorah scoffed. ¡°You¡¯ll probably go for something ridiculous and over the top. With cat ears again.¡± ¡°Lucy thinks the ears are cute,¡± I defended. I have something you might like. It¡¯s a little over three hundred points. It has a full communications suite, thermal and night vision, is armoured and lined with impact-resistant gel, has a filtration system that refills a tank, which in turn feeds you an appropriate amount of air. It¡¯s of course fully sealed. Also, the eyes glow. ¡°That sounds good,¡± I said. New Purchase: Leopard Mark IV Survival System Points Reduced from... 7854 to... 7554 ¡°Holy shit, I have how many points?¡± I asked, ignoring the box that appeared by my side. Was that rhetorical? I shook my head to clear it. There were a lot of aliens around, and a lot of them got crisped. It made sense. Had I fought and killed more last time? I couldn¡¯t quite compare the two incursions. Kneeling down, I opened the box to reveal a face made of some sleek black metal, recessed lenses over the eyes which glowed a faint pink, and a cat-like mouth with two long protrusions below acting as fangs. It¡¯s in two parts. Press the front to your face, then press the rear section to the back of your head. Gomorrah stepped closer and looked into the box too. ¡°Damn, that does look kind of cool,¡± she muttered. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. I tugged my helmet off, and regretted not holding my breath when I tried to inhale. The air was thinner than I had thought, and it immediately started to scratch at my throat and lungs. Probably not great for my health. I tried not to cough as I pulled my new helmet out, flipped it over, and pressed it over my face. The other section fit on the back, and everything closed up with a hiss; some sort of padding grabbed me around the neck, and if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, it clasped onto my suit too. The inside was snug, but soft. Also, really dark, at least until the screens just before my eyes came on and gave me a clear image of the mines around me. I could finally see. ¡°Nice,¡± I said. I tossed my old helmet to one of the cats, who caught it from the air in its jaws. ¡°Keep that around. We¡¯ll give it to Lucy.¡± ¡°Better?¡± Gomorrah asked. I took a deep breath, then coughed a bit. The air from the mask tasted fresh, like the air inside one of those enclosed gardens, only better. ¡°Much,¡± I said. ¡°Say, I just killed a lot of aliens, but you helped, how does the split work? Is there one?¡± ¡°There is,¡± Myalis said, not in my head, but out loud. Or at least, through my coms. I had the impression it was to share with Gomorrah as well. ¡°Points gained by Vanguard working together are split amongst all Vanguard based on the amount they accomplish.¡± ¡°I assume that the split is fair?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Of course. Most splits are even, 55-55, but in some situations the split will favour one Vanguard over another, if they did more to contribute.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not good at math,¡± I said. ¡°But I¡¯m about a hundred and ten percent sure that that doesn¡¯t add up,¡± I said. ¡°In order to avoid penalizing Vanguards who wish to work together, the amount of points gained when there are more than one Vanguard is increased. It means that even if a Vanguard working on their own would gain more points, the amount isn¡¯t as significant.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s pretty neat.¡± ¡°Gomorrah gained some points from your bombing just now, on account of having helped you, and by providing cover fire when you returned. Not as many points as you made, but still a significant number.¡± Gomorrah nodded. ¡°I¡¯m satisfied with it. Should we keep moving? The fire looks like it¡¯s calming down. It¡¯s burning itself out.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. I took the lead again, enjoying the ability to breath easily despite the warmth in the air. Still had a bit of an itch in my throat though. Figured I¡¯d have to ask Myalis for super lozenges later. As we moved down and deeper into the mines, I felt the temperature rising. There was a good reason for that. ¡°Well, shit,¡± I said. We stood next to the edge of a fire. Not a big roaring thing, but still a steadily burning fire that stretched out across the floor and onto the walls, and onto the ceiling, the stone lit up in a way that stone usually didn¡¯t. The fire went on for a while, deeper into the mine than I could see. The air was thick, warm enough that it almost felt physical. ¡°The air is acidic. Your equipment should be able to resist most of it. It is settling down though. Given a few more minutes the area should be merely impossible hot.¡± ¡°Nice,¡± Gomorrah said. I looked at her, then back at the fire. ¡°Is this what you get off on?¡± ¡°Oh, shut up, you know my love for fire isn¡¯t sexual or anything. I just like fire. The way someone might like a good meal.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. I wasn¡¯t going to poke at that... not right then. Definitely later, though. It was good teasing material. ¡°So how do we get past all that?¡± ¡°I can manage,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°At least we know that the Antithesis are going to have a hard time with it. Though I¡¯m sure they could adapt to it eventually.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s get to killing them before that happens, yeah?¡± She nodded, then raised her flamethrower and fired a wave of white flames ahead of us that clung to the ground and somehow pushed away the other fire before burning off with whitish smoke. Where the flames cleared, the floor was left smoking, but fireless. ¡°Ladies first,¡± she said. I eyed the ground, then poked it with the tip of my boot. ¡°This all seems like it¡¯s really, needlessly, dangerous.¡± ¡°So it should be right up your alley. Now come on.¡± She stepped by me and fired her flamethrower at more of the ground. ¡°Let¡¯s finish this.¡± Chapter Seventy-Seven - Deeper Chapter Seventy-Seven - Deeper ¡°The Cleaners are a group of samurai that show up after the main thrust of an incursion is done, and after the hive is declared dead. Some of them are somewhat popular, but never as much as the more famous ¡®main-line¡¯ samurai. Their work is out of the limelight, cleaning up after the bigger, louder samurai, and ensuring that an incursion is well and truly dead.¡± --Excerpt from, The Cleaners, a documentary, 2037 *** Gomorrah continued to clear the way, even though the fires were finally starting to die down. I think the lack of stuff to burn was finally calming things down. It was still swelteringly hot though, and I could feel myself sweating like mad in my suit. I kinda hoped that it was going to cool off soon, but the patches of ground that were still glowing-hot after the fire finally went out hinted that it wouldn¡¯t cool down that quickly. ¡°I think we¡¯re nearly there,¡± Gomorrah said. I looked around and vaguely recognized the area. It wasn¡¯t like there were road signs to follow, but I did have a minimap of sorts and the passages seemed familiar. We were at an intersection away from the hive. ¡°How do you figure?¡± I asked. ¡°I was looking at your progress on the map earlier; this is about where you stopped. In the next section, I mean,¡± she said. Made sense. ¡°Aww, were you watching out for me?¡± ¡°More points if you leave to join the Lord.¡± I laughed. ¡°Nice. Yeah, the next spot is where the hive was.¡± ¡°Was? You sure it¡¯s entirely gone?¡± ¡°I hope it is,¡± I said. The room had been pretty large, and I wasn¡¯t sure if I¡¯d put enough canister bombs to fully cover it. On our trek down, I could spot the places where the bombs¡¯ range didn¡¯t overlap¡ªthere wasn¡¯t usually much damage in those spots. A few Antithesis had tried to hide in there, but it looked like they¡¯d been cooked anyway. We reached the hive, and I cursed and brought my Icarus up. Some of the trees remained, burning merrily and tossing up brackish smoke to the ceiling. Roots still covered the ground, oozing puss and whatever passed for blood in an Antithesis hive. The outer layer of the roots had been burned off, but the fire hadn¡¯t turned the whole place to ash. The wrecked remains of one of my cat mecha was laying nearby, crushed and broken into so much scrap. ¡°Nothing moving,¡± Gomorrah said as she swept her gaze around. ¡°This place is big though.¡± ¡°Not as cooked as I¡¯d like,¡± I said. ¡°I can fix that,¡± she said. ¡°Give me ten minutes or so.¡± ¡°Yeah, actually, that¡¯s not a terrible idea.¡± I pointed across the room. ¡°That tunnel¡¯s the one I didn¡¯t explore. Some Model Thirteen spotted me when I was going down it. I tossed a bomb in, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll have burned too deep into it.¡± ¡°Maybe we can head over that way, then burn the hive behind us,¡± Gomorrah said. I started to nod, then swore and jumped onto Gomorrah. She gasped as I collided into her and sent both of us sprawling. Then a Model Thirteen, or a third of one, crashed into the ground where we¡¯d been standing. Its tentacles, mostly cut short and burned to nubs, whipped around and crashed into my back. Shields appeared and burst apart under the impact, and I was shoved down harder onto Gomorrah. Then my cats opened fire, all three of them shooting at the Model Thirteen from three directions and gouging out the Antithesis¡¯ flesh. I rolled off Gomorrah and scrambled for my gun, but it was already done, the alien slumped down, properly dead. ¡°Christ,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. I climbed to my feet, then stepped over to the Model Thirteen. It was riddled with holes, some of them bleeding quite a bit. It looked a little charred on the edges, but I guess it had slipped to somewhere safe... ish. I kicked it with the tip of my boot, just to make sure. ¡°Where did that come from?¡± Gomorrah asked. I looked up. ¡°They can cling to ceilings, and there¡¯s smoke,¡± I said. ¡°Spooky fuckers.¡± Gomorrah grunted as she got to her feet. Her back-mounted flamethrowers deployed and started scanning the ceiling. ¡°Good way of knowing that the hive isn¡¯t entirely dead. I don¡¯t envy the samurai that do clean-up work.¡± Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what we¡¯re doing?¡± I asked. ¡°Not quite. There are some that come in only once the hive is confirmed to be dead, just to root out pockets of Antithesis, and burn any remains so they don¡¯t start growing again. It¡¯s not a job that pays very well, point-wise, but it¡¯s lower-risk and someone needs to do it.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s make their jobs easier then,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, resonators, I need... eh, about six of them?¡± The sound-based bombs acted pretty slowly, but they lasted a while. I tossed the first one across the room, then saw Gomorrah shaking her head. ¡°You okay?¡± I asked. ¡°Those things are noisy.¡± I paused, five more grenades tucked into the crook of my arm. ¡°Want me to put these aside? She shook her head. ¡°Go ahead. I¡¯m burning this place down either way.¡± I shrugged and tossed the last grenades around. They made the roots shiver, and I liked seeing all the trees start melting on the edges, turning into so much slush. Hopefully it would slush any still-living Antithesis, though it didn¡¯t seem to work as well on the trees and thicker roots. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving,¡± Gomorrah said. I pointed to one of my cats, then ahead of us, letting it leap forward to take the lead. ¡°You bought cats here?¡± Gomorrah asked as she looked at the wreck of a cat mech. ¡°Distraction,¡± I said. ¡°I made it out alive, so I guess it worked.¡± ¡°I guess so. I¡¯m starting to realize that we are woefully undertrained for this.¡± ¡°Did you get any training at all?¡± ¡°No.¡± I nodded. ¡°So we¡¯re not undertrained, are we?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s how it works.¡± Gomorrah and I crossed the hive, being careful as we stepped over roots and the charred husks of dead Antithesis. I had one scare when a Model Ten flopped out of a tree, looking halfway melted, but mostly unburned. When we reached the entrance to that one tunnel I hadn¡¯t explored, Gomorrah turned and brought her flamethrower up. She fiddled with the controls, doing something with them for a moment before aiming up and at the far end of the room. A stream of burning liquid came pouring out of the flamethrower, the spray widening and splashing the floor and bits of hive with whatever fire-juice Gomorrah was using. The nun started moving her gun left and right, coating the far end of the room before she started to lower her aim to spread the joy around a little more. Like buttering a piece of toast, but not. ¡°Nice work,¡± I said. She nodded. ¡°That¡¯ll do.¡± The room was a burning inferno, flames taller than I was hissing and spitting even as the remaining trees crumbled apart and the roots and plants clinging to the ceiling crashed down, sending waves of embers into the air. Gomorrah¡¯s flamethrower used some weird shit to burn stuff. I wasn¡¯t going to poke at it, it was her area of expertise, and it certainly seemed to be working just fine. I patted her on the shoulder and nodded deeper into the tunnel. ¡°Let¡¯s go?¡± ¡°Certainly. Let¡¯s just hope this isn¡¯t a dead-end.¡± ¡°Uh,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t think of that.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a bit of an idiot, you know?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been told as much, yeah,¡± I said. The nun sighed. ¡°The maps say that this tunnel links back up to another, we should be able to loop back around closer to the entrance. That¡¯s if the mine didn¡¯t collapse anywhere.¡± We started down the shaft. After a dozen metres or so, the signs of there being a massive fire died down, the floor only streaked by fire here and there. A few bodies were left slumped on the ground¡ªAntithesis that had tried to run? I almost felt bad for them. It was a hell of a way to go. The first sign that the hive might not be entirely dead were some small roots, with the start of those sacs that the models grew out of sprouting all along their length. I traced the root down into the depths of the shaft and around a corner. ¡°Fresh, or was that there before the hive went up?¡± I asked. ¡°Either way, it¡¯s trouble.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s a good thing we¡¯re around.¡± ¡°Because we can do our job?¡± I grinned. ¡°Nah, because I figure we¡¯re good at making trouble, especially to things that are already troublesome.¡± Gomorrah chuckled. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s how any of that works, but sure. Let¡¯s finish all of this; I want a bath.¡± *** Chapter Seventy-Eight - M21 Chapter Seventy-Eight - M21 ¡°Now that we¡¯ve seen everything these aliens can throw at us, I¡¯m certain our brave soldiers can handle them!¡± --General Legstronger, USMC, 2026. *** ¡°Wait, there¡¯s another bunch of them here,¡± Gomorrah said. I sighted down the length of my Icarus, then nodded. ¡°Burn away.¡± We were some hundred metres down that last tunnel, and I was beginning to suspect that the hive was bigger than I¡¯d thought. Sure, there were plenty of dead plants in that last big room, but the tunnel had dozens of roots crossing the floor, some of them splitting off and rejoining others seemingly at random. We kept finding dead bodies at first, burnt Antithesis, but that stopped after a while. The marks across the floor, as if bodies had been dragged off, weren¡¯t reassuring at all. Gomorrah stepped up to a crack in the wall, one the roots were using to hang on and where a bunch of small seed-pods were starting to grow. The aliens within weren¡¯t any bigger than a fetus and they wouldn¡¯t get any bigger as Gomorrah sprayed them with a shower of liquid fire. ¡°That¡¯s that,¡± she said. I nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving,¡± I said. A couple of my mecha cats leapt ahead, scouting out the mine before we reached it, in case some Model Nine was pretending to be a rock or some piece of root or something. ¡°The roots are getting thicker,¡± Gomorrah said. I looked at them, then nodded. They¡¯d started off no thicker than my wrist. Now they were around thigh-sized. ¡°Yeah. I think maybe that hive I burned wasn¡¯t the main thing after all.¡± ¡°If it wasn¡¯t, then the Antithesis learned how to excavate. The maps show that most of the rest of the mine is all tight passages. Though... there is an intersection coming up¡ªshould be a bit wider.¡± ¡°Great,¡± I said. ¡°It looks like Cause Player is down one of the other tunnels; a good distance away, but still coming closer. If he¡¯s killing everything there, then we¡¯ll only have a very short mineshaft left to explore, and it ends after about fifty metres.¡± So, that was it. If we cleared out this last bit of tunnel, assuming we didn¡¯t miss anything, then everything in the mine would be cleared. One of the mecha cats rumbled, a low growl that had my hackles rising and my breath catching. I squinted ahead, and my sight zoomed in on... something. The last intersection was wide enough to let one of the mining trucks turn without too much trouble, and they were big trucks. Something was filling the intersection almost entirely, and it wasn¡¯t until we were a little closer that I realized that it was another hive, but one that was different. Instead of a sort of sparse jungle with dozens of wide trees rising up and holding onto seed pods, this one was more like a massive lump on the ground. One covered in flowers, with a few thicker roots poking out of it that seemed to be gestating new models even as we approached, but still, just a big lump. ¡°Funky,¡± I said. ¡°Should we burn it?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°What kind of question is that?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, not burning it might make it easier to check out the last tunnel.¡± That was a fair point. We hadn¡¯t stopped walking, and were within a dozen metres of the edge of the room when our conversation was interrupted. ¡°Careful.¡± I stopped dead, hands tightening over my Icarus and eyes scanning everything, ceiling included. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked. Myalis rarely warned me about stuff. She was more of a ¡®let her figure it out when it hurts her¡¯ kind of person. ¡°That¡¯s the egg incubator for a Model Twenty-One.¡± It felt as if my mouth went dry all of a sudden. ¡°The bigger the number, the more fucky the alien, right?¡± ¡°As a general rule, yes. Model Twenty-Ones are a stealth model.¡± ¡°How big are we talking about here?¡± I asked. I was scanning the rocks and ground, looking for anything that stood out, anything that could be a Model Nine but worse. Approximately two metres long, one tall. Six legged, with each limb having a gripping hand. They have segmented plates over their body that are made of a heavy iron-rich compound. Six hearts, two brains. Relatively heavy, but also very fast. Favours close-quarters combat.¡± ¡°Cat,¡± Gomorrah said. Something in her tone had me looking out the same way she was. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. I couldn¡¯t see it at first. It was just a small haze in the air, barely visibly against the rest. Maybe in full daylight, when I wasn¡¯t looking through the colour-shifted night vision of my mask. As it was, I only saw the thing when it started charging at us. ¡°Shit!¡± I screamed as I raised my Icarus. I fired at it, then cursed again when the first shots went wide and exploded in the plants and muck behind what had to be the Model Twenty-One. Gomorrah set her legs and sprayed a jet of fire ahead of us, only to have to juke it to the side as the alien jumped to the wall, then it faded from there and we both stopped firing. ¡°Where is it?¡± I asked. I had seen it hit the wall; there were some marks left from the impact, and then, nothing. ¡°Teleport?¡± ¡°Model Twenty-Ones cannot teleport.¡± ¡°That¡¯s some worrying fucking phrasing there, Myalis,¡± I hissed. ¡°Neither of you are ready to face off against any Antithesis model above twenty. I would suggest a retreat, but the Model Twenty-One is aware of you. It seems small, recently-birthed. It will be relatively weak.¡± ¡°Can they bur--¡± I felt something shift behind me, and I spun just in time to see Gomorrah being flung back, bending almost double in mid-air as she flew. Her flamethrower hovered in the air for a moment, partially distorted before something crushed it as if it was little more than a soda can. I spun while firing and backed up. I only just saw the blur of a large limb swiping out at me and batting my gun aside. A claw scraped across my cybernetic arm. Stumbling back, I tried to make room to bring my launcher up. Being in the AOE be damned, I wanted the fucker dead. He¡¯d hurt Gomorrah! Another swipe, and this time my Icarus was launched across the tunnel. I saw dark eyes. Bored, placid eyes, like a cow in one of those anti-vegan commercials, not the eyes of a predator trying to kill me¡ªnot that it mattered at all. It launched itself at me, mouth wide and filled with serrated teeth. Then one of my mecha cats chomped down over its neck and dragged it aside, enough that I was only tossed aside when it struck out with one of its rear limbs. I landed in a roll and got back to my feet. All three mecha cats were on it, two of them chomping and clawing at the monster even as they fired into it from point blank. The third was further back, guns rattling and poking little holes into the Model Twenty-One¡¯s sides that didn¡¯t seem to be nearly as deep as I wanted. Climbing to one knee, I let my back-mounted guns deploy even as I turned my invisibility back on. Leaving it off to make Gomorrah comfortable had been something of a mistake. My railgun fired. I stared, flummoxed, as the ceiling exploded. There was a vague slice cut into the air, tracing the path the round had taken. It struck the alien on one of its broad shoulder plates, then went up and hit the ceiling where stone was crumbling down. The fucker was tough enough to make railgun rounds bounce? The Model Twenty-One grabbed one of my mecha from off of its shoulder and threw it to the ground, then it pinned the mech down with a clawed hand, grabbed it by the middle with its jaw, and pulled. I winced as the mecha was torn in half. Its guns never stopped firing into the monster, not until it stomped them down. Two sputtering hoses of fire hissed through the air and covered the Model Twenty-One from top to bottom. ¡°That... that hurt,¡± Gomorrah said. I laughed, relieved, but I had to focus. The Model turned towards Gomorrah, evidently pissed, and its muscles bunched to jump. I yanked my Claw out, aimed at its rear leg, and fired. The Model Twenty-One launched itself at Gomorrah, but it was a weak, abortive jump, and the nun rolled aside. It was starting to look worse for wear, and I was more than pleased to help it along, firing every last round from my Claw into its flank. Its skin peeled off, and it shook itself, moulting in the space of a few seconds and revealing skin so dark it was hard to tell where the monster ended and the tunnel behind started. I swore. I didn¡¯t know what kind of bullshit this monster in particular was up to, but in my book, anything that had been shot that much should have lain down and died already. ¡°Myalis, I need a bomb.¡± *** Chapter Seventy-Nine - Boss Fight Chapter Seventy-Nine - Boss Fight ¡°Do not underestimate the Antithesis. Just because a model¡¯s number is twice as high, doesn¡¯t mean it will only be twice as likely to kill you.¡± --Tiny, in a street interview, 2049 *** The trick was picking the right sort of bomb. Nothing that would kill Gomorrah and I, that was a given, and something that would still put the Model Twenty-One down. It was injured. The Mecha cats had peppered it with little holes, none that seemed too deep, but in spots where their fire had been concentrated, the alien¡¯s skin looked like it had been assaulted by a cheese-grater. Gomorrah¡¯s fire blackened some of its skin, and I was sure emptying every round from my Claw into its flank had done nasty things to its musculature. I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s nothing I can give you that will kill the Model Twenty-One instantly without risking yourself or Vanguard Gomorrah. ¡°Shit,¡± I swore. ¡°Noise grenades.¡± A grenade appeared in the air next to me and I snapped it out of the air. I didn¡¯t have to look to pull the tab on it and fling it under the Model Twenty-One. Almost as soon as the grenade landed it started to make its damned keening howl. The Model Twenty-One shook its overly large head, its focus moving away from Gomorrah, who was busy backing up, and to the ground. A leg stomped down on the grenade, crushing it and killing its noise with a squawk. I didn¡¯t know if the resonator had actually done anything in those few seconds, but if it crushed it, then it didn¡¯t like it. ¡°Another,¡± I muttered as I started to run. I wanted to keep behind the monster. Hopefully it wouldn¡¯t notice me tossing the grenades by its feet. The Model Twenty-One was even faster to destroy the next one. ¡°Another,¡± I said. ¡°And then give me something that¡¯ll blow up in its face.¡± I tossed the next resonator behind it, and the alien spun and crushed it faster than I could blink. The next grenade clattered by its feet, much quieter. It stomped on it all the same. I flung an arm over my face as an explosive blast roared past me. The Model Twenty-One stumbled to the side, its front looking even worse, with its skin blackened and an entire leg missing from the joint down. Blackish blood was sloping down onto the ground in a rapid pitter-patter beat. It raised its head, one eye partially shut, and looked right at me. ¡°Ah, shit,¡± I said. I tucked my Claw away and grabbed my Trench Maker even as I started running again. My back-mounted guns swivelled around and started to fire at it. The plasma caster didn¡¯t seem to do much at all, only leaving glowing welts in its thick hide, but my railgun¡¯s next round didn¡¯t bounce. It burrowed into the monster¡¯s chest, leaving a finger-sized hole of glowing flesh where it had passed. It still wasn¡¯t dead though. A wash of fire shoved the Model Twenty-One to the side, its claws scraping against the ground for purchase. ¡°Thanks!¡± I shouted as I tried to run faster. I¡¯d seen it wreck one of my mechs, and I was pretty sure they were tougher than I was. ¡°It¡¯s refusing to burn,¡± Gomorrah said. She sounded very insulted about it. I looked over my shoulder and choked on a curse. The Model Twenty-One was very much on fire now. Gomorrah kept adding to it so that its entire body was covered in flames. It only made it scarier though. What kind of monster could ignore being set on fire so easily? My remaining mecha cat kept its distance, still firing in bursts at where I suspected the alien was weaker. It skidded past me and bumped into one of the walls. I turned and aimed my Trench Maker at it, then fired over and over again until I clicked empty. The bastard barely seemed to notice. Another railgun round, and another hole punched into it, but there was no explosion in the wall behind it. The round had stayed lodged somewhere in all of its plant meat. Real tough plant meat. ¡°Cat, get down!¡± I glanced over to Gomorrah, then stared for all of a moment before jumping as far the fuck away as I could. Gomorrah had bought herself a new gun. It was a cumbersome looking thing, all angular and flat-sided, with cross-shaped cut-outs and golden trim over flat black plates. She held it on her shoulder, the barrel--wider than my fist--currently pointing at the Model Twenty-One. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°May god have mercy on you, because I¡¯m fresh out.¡± I didn¡¯t have time to tell her that she sounded cheesy as fuck before she fired, and a grey blur shot out of the launcher and struck the Model Twenty-One. I was expecting heat. I wasn¡¯t disappointed. For a moment, all I could focus on was putting more room between myself and whatever the fuck Gomorrah had just fired at that alien. It wasn¡¯t heat, it was something beyond that. My augs started to flicker, warning about my armour being strained, my coat being unable to function at the current temperatures, and that my mask was switching to tanked oxygen because it couldn¡¯t filter anything from the air. I stumbled ahead, then when I had my feet under me I ran until the heat only felt like a bonfire at my back. Slowing down, I turned and winced until my mask¡¯s visor occluded the part of the tunnel the Model Twenty-One was in. Gomorrah was walking over to me, her launcher lowered even as the mineshaft behind her glowed like an inferno. The Model Twenty-One was still moving. Oh, it wasn¡¯t going to move for long, but the thing was crawling its way towards us, even as its sides melted and its limbs came apart one by one. ¡°What was that?¡± I asked as Gomorrah came closer. ¡°That was a very expensive thermate warhead,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Three thousand degrees celsius on the edges, a whole lot hotter in the middle.¡± She sounded very, very smug. ¡°Well, it worked,¡± I said. The Model Twenty-One was still struggling, but it was weak, its remaining limbs barely able to pull it forwards. ¡°Damn, that thing is tough,¡± I said. Gomorrah lowered her launcher. ¡°Yeah. I knew the higher numbered models were going to be a challenge, but this is more than I thought.¡± ¡°That Model Twenty-One was approximately twenty percent smaller than average, and its reaction times were slower than usual. It¡¯s very likely that it was born before the end of its incubation period because of the strain on the hive.¡± So the real thing would be tougher. ¡°And it¡¯s a stealth model,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s a unit that usually fights as a pack.¡± I tilted my head left and right, to crack my neck. ¡°Well then. That¡¯s just plain terrifying.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± Gomorrah said. The heat had faded some, and the glowing ball of fire was starting to break up, sending showers of sparks hissing through the air around it with fire-cracker pops. Then it gradually sank into the stone around it. ¡°Damn,¡± I repeated. ¡°We should move on, burn the rest of the hive out and get out of here,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I could use a break. Maybe a nice nap. Something to drink...¡± I considered what else to add to my list. ¡°A hug from Lucy?¡± ¡°I think we could both use that,¡± Gomorrah agreed absently. I shot her a look. ¡°Shall we get going?¡± she asked before heading out. ¡°Hey wait! Lucy¡¯s hugs are mine! I¡¯m not sharing!¡± ¡°What are you on about Cat? Can¡¯t you take anything seriously for a minute or two?¡± We went the long way around the Model Twenty-One. It wasn¡¯t moving anymore, but that didn¡¯t stop me from reloading my Claw and then emptying it in the bigger chunks of its body, just in case. If there was ever anything that deserved to be double-tapped, it was that heap of trouble. ¡°I didn¡¯t think the models past twenty would be that, uh, insane,¡± I said. ¡°Is it dead?¡± ¡°We got the points for it,¡± Gomorrah confirmed. ¡°Models above Twenty make up nearly half of all Antithesis forces. If you were to graph the distribution of models out, it would appear as a near-exponential decrease, with the median of models being between the model twenties and thirties.¡± ¡°And they get worse as they get bigger numbers?¡± I asked. Generally speaking, yes. Though there are of course utility models across the scale. Most models past Thirty aren¡¯t necessarily terrestrial. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. I could have an existential crisis about that later. I found my Icarus, the gun scuffed and battered, but still functional-looking, and I saw that Gomorrah paused to mourn over her Archangel''s Kiss. Figured we¡¯d made enough points to buy another, but I didn¡¯t begrudge her taking some time for that. I had one mecha cat left, the one that held onto my old helmet still. ¡°Tough one, aren¡¯t you,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s hope we won¡¯t be putting that toughness to the test anymore.¡± *** Chapter Eighty - Burning Away Chapter Eighty - Burning Away ¡°The Model Twenty-One is a fast-moving, ground-locked Antithesis unit commonly found on the fringes of the territory of an incursion that has been entrenched for any period over seventy-two hours. They are usually found in packs of three to five, often accompanied by groups of Model Threes. They are, by nature, ambush predators and scouts for bigger, stronger units, but do not underestimate them on account of their relatively small size. They earn their position in the twenty-ranks.¡± --The Family¡¯s Guide to The Enemy - Ver. 4.8496 - 2057. *** ¡°I think that¡¯s it,¡± I said as I took a last look around. The tunnel leading off that last hive-infested intersection didn¡¯t have much to it except some stone walls and another one of those big mining rigs. A few roots were reaching into the room, but they didn¡¯t get too far down. Gomorrah made a point of burning them on the way past, leaving the corridor behind us to fill with noxious fumes and smoke. ¡°Looks like it,¡± Gomorrah said. I nodded. ¡°Well, I¡¯m ready to get the fuck out of these tunnels,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe see some sky, a few clouds. You know, outside stuff?¡± ¡°Breathe in the smog and stretch under the radiation-heavy sunlight?¡± Gomorrah asked. She looked around at the mineshaft we were in. ¡°Yeah, I think that would be nice.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but glance up at the ceiling. It was easy to ignore that there were several hundred thousand tonnes of earth above that could come crashing down at any moment. All the bombs and such we¡¯d been using probably didn¡¯t do anything to help the local geography¡¯s stability. ¡°Let¡¯s,¡± I said before I took off back towards the intersection. Gomorrah had emptied both of her shoulder-mounted launchers at the big egg sac that had produced the Model Twenty-One. It meant that I had to let her carve out a path from the tunnel we were in back to the other passage we hadn¡¯t taken over, but that wasn¡¯t a big deal. I was pretty happy with seeing the hive chunk on fire. Once we were past that, it was straight down a long tunnel where a few roots had gone questing along the floor, but none of them reached all that far. ¡°One moment,¡± Gomorrah said. I looked around, making sure there wasn¡¯t anything but Gomorrah, myself, and my remaining cat mech around. Unless there was something else and it was invisible. Invisible enemies were entirely unfair. ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked when I saw her head bowed for a moment. ¡°Is it prayer time?¡± ¡°If it was, your interrupting would be rude,¡± she said. Her hand opened by her side, and a container appeared just above it. ¡°Firebomb. Nothing too spectacular.¡± She pulled her rocket launcher from her shoulder and shoved the container into an opening in its side. ¡°I¡¯ll be down that way,¡± I said with a vague gesture in the direction opposite the one she was going to burn. Gomorrah sniffed and raised the launcher to her shoulder just as I started to jog away. The wash of heat was nothing like the one with her plasma ball nightmare thing, but I still felt it, and it did a number on what was left of the hive, even though it had been on fire already. No such thing as too much fire in the eyes of my favourite nun. ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± she said as she rejoined me. ¡°I¡¯m liking the range of this thing.¡± ¡°Not standing right next to the hot-hot death fire is... a good idea?¡± I asked while trying to sound as innocent as possible. The nun shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s not as... good when you can¡¯t see the impact of your fire on your enemies.¡± ¡°Wow,¡± I said. ¡°I know this is super hypocritical, but have you considered therapy? Your... pyrophilia can¡¯t be healthy.¡± ¡°Did you just make up a new word for a sexual orientation?¡± she asked. ¡°A new word for your sexual orientation. I¡¯m clever. I¡¯ve heard a few words in Latin before.¡± ¡°Both pyro and philia are Greek, you... God wasn¡¯t generous when handing out your portion of intelligence.¡± I laughed. ¡°First time I¡¯ve been called stupid that way.¡± ¡°But certainly not the first time in general.¡± ¡°Nah, I had my first time a long while ago.¡± She sighed. ¡°And we¡¯re back to innuendo.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but grin. I hadn¡¯t noticed all the tension from running around and being sneaky piling up on my shoulders, but now that it was all over--or at least, I hoped it was--the tension was drifting off. It probably made things feel funnier than they really were. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Heat signature out ahead,¡± Gomorrah said. I pulled my launcher up and flicked my coat¡¯s invisibility back on at the same moment. The coat had plenty of time to cool down. We waited for a moment, then Gomorrah shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s Cause Player. I¡¯m texting him, I don¡¯t need to be shot today.¡± I lowered my gun. Maybe it was a bit too soon to let all of the tension go. ¡°Alright command, it seems that we have some allies up ahead,¡± I heard Cause Player say. His steps were surprisingly soft. I¡¯d barely heard them. Or maybe I was just bad at paying attention to that kind of thing. I tugged my cloak¡¯s hood up and tucked my launcher between my cloak and coat, where it wouldn¡¯t be visible. If Lucy was watching, I didn¡¯t need her thinking I was putting myself in any sort of undue risk. ¡°Hello, Cause Player!¡± Gomorrah called out. ¡°I think, chat, that we¡¯re going to be breaking character for a moment,¡± Cause Player said. He walked around a slight curve in the tunnel ahead, still in his green armour, and with a huge, very glow-y gun in hand. ¡°Hello, Gomorrah,¡± he said. Gomorrah nodded. ¡°How did the clearing go? And are you still live?¡± I started walking around the two, keeping close to the walls and walking at an angle so that Cause Player wouldn¡¯t notice the few bits of me not covered with my cloak. I wasn¡¯t going too far with it¡ªI was sure he would see me if he was paying attention. But he wasn¡¯t. ¡°We are! I hope you don¡¯t mind.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Gomorrah said. I saw him glancing around before spotting me, likely through his augs. By then I was already behind Cause Player, right where his little livestream camera was floating. I snapped it out of the air, the little device buzzing and humming in place, its little wings beating against my grip until I brought it around and had it face me. I turned visible again. ¡°Hi Lucy!¡± I said with a wave. Behind me, Cause Player jumped about three feet into the air and spun around. Did I spook him? ¡°Yo!¡± I said before pointing to his camera. ¡°Hope you don¡¯t mind? I was just saying hi to my girl.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t see you there,¡± he said. ¡°You should be more careful then. We¡¯ve got Model Nines, and we met a Model Twenty-One. Mean bastard. Broke some of my cat mechs.¡± I let go of the camera and it buzzed away from me, almost as if the little thing was insulted that I¡¯d grabbed it. ¡°A Model Twenty-One, here?¡± ¡°A baby one,¡± I said. ¡°Still nasty though.¡± He shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s unexpected. The hive here wasn¡¯t very old.¡± ¡°It was specialized though,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°A stealth model for a stealth hive.¡± ¡°Did you clear everything on the way here?¡± I asked. Cause Player nodded. ¡°Every shaft and side-passage, even a few that weren¡¯t on the map. Found a few little groups of Antithesis, but the biggest challenge was a pair of Model Thirteens that came out of nowhere. Made for a nice boss-fight, I think.¡± ¡°Cool,¡± I said. ¡°Does that mean we¡¯re done here?¡± ¡°I guess so,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°What¡¯s the fastest way out of here?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t we need to leave from the same hole we came in? Your car¡¯s parked there.¡± Gomorrah shook her head. ¡°The Fury can pilot itself to wherever I want. I wouldn¡¯t drive it down these shafts, but otherwise, any exit would do.¡± ¡°A profitable afternoon,¡± Cause Player said. ¡°A few points, some b-roll footage. I¡¯ll edit everything later to make it more seamless before posting it.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you live right now?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, yes, but that doesn¡¯t compare to a well edited fight scene and a tighter storyline. The people who watch it live do it because it¡¯s fun to see the behind the scenes stuff.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± I said. Not my cup of whatever. ¡°Right, should we get going then?¡± With all that said and done, we finally headed back, retracing Cause Player¡¯s steps. He spoke with Gomorrah for a bit. Apparently he knew some of the clean-up samurai who¡¯d come in later to make damned sure that nothing of the hive was left. I had to wonder how much the hive could regrow from the few bits left over in just one night. The answer was probably too damned much. But, all of that was someone else¡¯s problem for now. ¡°Myalis,¡± I asked, my voice pitched low. ¡°How many points did we manage to make?¡± Current Point Total: 12,471 I tripped over nothing. ¡°Holy crap!¡± *** Epilogue Epilogue *** I couldn¡¯t help the smug grin as Gomorrah drove the Fury around the Black Bear Mining Corporation¡¯s headquarters, then found a spot to land. There were people in the spot Gomorrah chose. A few soldiers sitting on crates and chatting. At least until they saw the car coming down, and started to drag things out of Gomorrah¡¯s way. ¡°The job¡¯s not done,¡± Gomorrah said as she pulled on some lever-thing in the middle of the dash with a satisfying clunk. I think that put the car in park or something. I needed to take a bit and learn how to drive one day. ¡°This is the boring part,¡± Cause Player said from where he was squeezed in the backseat. He opened the door and contorted his way out. ¡°What bit?¡± I asked. ¡°Where we ask the corporation some difficult questions about why their maps didn¡¯t match up exactly, and where we debrief the army about what to expect,¡± Gomorrah said. I felt my grin fading a little. ¡°Can I take the third option?¡± I asked. ¡°We also need to do a quick patrol of the town, but I think Cause Player¡¯s already trying to be the one to do that,¡± Gomorrah added. ¡°Can¡¯t we just go home and rejoice in our huge winnings?¡± ¡°Come on, out of the car, you whiner.¡± I laughed as I stepped out of the Fury then stood up and stretched. The day was turning to evening pretty quickly. I wasn¡¯t sure how much time we¡¯d spent underground, but I was pretty happy that we weren¡¯t under there anymore. Open air felt great. ¡°Do you want to take care of the army, or the corp?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Can¡¯t our AI do both?¡± The nun shrugged. ¡°They can help, but having someone there does a lot more to help.¡± ¡°We didn¡¯t need to do any of this last time,¡± I said. ¡°Last time, we were both still just small fry. There were other, more impo-- wait.¡± I paused in my stretching and turned around to see that Gomorrah was staring at the ground, a patch that had nothing of interest on it. ¡°You okay?¡± I asked. She raised a hand in a ¡®one moment¡¯ gesture. I waited. ¡°Anything going on?¡± I muttered, too quiet for Gomorrah to hear. Nothing noticeable. The army has set up a cordon around the town and have begun inspecting it street-by-street. A second group is breaking into homes to ensure that they are cleared of Antithesis presence. They are being rather polite about it. Senior management have been evacuated from the town, along with the relatives of upper-echelon corporate employees. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Typical,¡± I muttered. The Family has sent a message informing every Vanguard in the region that a team of liquidators is going to arrive before sunrise to inspect the mine. A few corporate clearing groups are moving to the region as well. That was different. I didn¡¯t envy anyone dealing with Antithesis without someone like Myalis to bail them out. ¡°How do they make money?¡± I asked. They capture models and samples of Antithesis flesh, as well as collecting data for resale. It is not a very profitable endeavor, but there is a slim but noticeable profit margin. Mostly, those they hire are indentured to the company in one way or another. ¡°Ah,¡± I said. If you didn¡¯t need to pay people to do work, then you could make a nice profit on that work, I imagined. ¡°God damn it,¡± Gomorrah swore. I turned to her in time to see her move to the back of the Fury and pop open the trunk. She practically threw my surviving mecha cat out, then my Whisper and my climbing gear. ¡°You okay?¡± I asked. ¡°I need to go,¡± she said as she slid into her car. ¡°Uh, in a hurry?¡± I guessed while leaning into the passenger side of the Fury. She was already flicking switches on the dash. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t just some way of getting out of doing work, is it?¡± I asked. She looked at me, expressionless mask locked in place and staring at me for a few long seconds. ¡°No, Cat, this isn¡¯t that. I need to go, something¡¯s come up. I... I don¡¯t think I need help, alright?¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°But if you do need help, I¡¯m here, okay? You¡¯ve helped me plenty; the least I can do is return the favour.¡± ¡°Yeah... thanks.¡± I backed up as Fury lifted off, aimed up, then shot into the sky with enough force that I had to take a step back or be bowled over by all the wind. Something was definitely up. I wanted to get back home, maybe relax with Lucy as a reward for a job well done, but I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that things wouldn¡¯t be that simple. Also, she¡¯d just left me stranded in Black Bear. ¡°Crap, I¡¯m actually going to have to work.¡± The End! ? SCS Art Contest! Hey Everyone! Exciting news today, I''m announcing the first ever SCS Art Contest! The contest will run for one month (until February 15th) The contest will be split into three categories. SCS art (Prize for first and Second place), SCS FF related art (Prize for first) and AI SCS art (Prize for first). The AI category was added to give AI artists an outlet, while keeping those entries out of the other two categories. Please be aware, I will NOT be accepting AI art in the SCS and SCS FF categories, and the winning artist will be expected to share some sort of WIP for the final submission. This is to help keep down the number of bad actors submitting AI art as their own. Entries will be tracked here: SCS Art Contest Entries be sure to stop in and take a look occasionally. Artists will have the option of providing a link to their other art, so check it out and support them! The full rules, and prizes, are listed below. I can''t wait to see what you guys come up with! Rules

You may enter multiple categories, but have to submit different pieces for each category. Ensemble pieces with SCS and FF can be entered in either category, but NOT both.
Please only enter your own art, discovered art is not accepted. (Feel free to share in discords, with the artist''s permission)
Entries must be hosted on the internet. You will be expected to submit a link to your art, and the piece must stay up until the entries are judged. (Both image hosting sites, and personal websites are acceptable)
AI generated art will only be accepted in the AI category. It is not accepted for SCS and FF categories.
If you submit to the SCS or FF category, and win, you should be prepared to share one or more work in progress sketches of your work. This is to make it harder for bad actors to sneak AI work into the other categories.
Contest will run from Jan 15th to midnight on Feb 15th, 2025
Winners will be determined by vote by the RavensDagger patreon supporters. Winners will be contacted by the email address provided in the submission form.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Prizes:

$250 for the main SCS prize
$150 for the second place
$100 for the SCS-fanfic fanart prize
$50 for the best AI art

If you''re ready to enter, then you can post your artwork here: LINK! Foreword by the Author Foreword by the Author Ohh, I love writing ''Forward by the Author'' it sounds so posh! Anywhozzle~ it''s time for Stray Cat Strut''s eight volume! That''s... a large number! We''re slowly sneaking our way over to the double digits! I want to try something with this one. My writer-senses tell me that it''s a good idea. It''s a way to progress and elevate the narrative, to expand the world, to make the known characters deeper and more interesting and more alive. My author-senses tell me that it''s a terrible idea. That it will put a strain on my readership, that it''ll slow down an already relatively slow pace, and that it''ll be a lot of work to write something that''ll only satisfy the people willing to put in the effort to push through their initial apprehension. Basically, I''m kind of divided on what to do with this volume, and so... I''ll try to be smart about it. SCS is a web-serial. It''s got a unique and powerful advantage in that it is a shared story written for a living and reacting audience. I want to take advantage of that in as big a way as possible. I''m going to listen to my writer-senses. That may end up being a mistake. But I''ll also be listening to you, the reader. The person invested enough in SCS to make it past the first seven volumes and eight-hundred thousand words. I hope you trust me, but I''m also trusting you to be honest with me. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Annnd now I''m going to be less vague and obtuse about things and peel back the curtain, because the analogies and such above are very wordy and yet say very little. SCS currently has a narrative issue where the big threat set up is gone. The arc is closed and completed, and that''s... genuinely a good thing? We have some more issues in the story to tackle. Cat does, that is. But I think a lot of these are kinda... boring, on the surface? So I want to introduce new things and a few new issues that''ll eventually lead into another long arc like the Phobos one! I want to do this by introducing two things that readers hate. A timeskip (of like, 5 in-story days, so nothing bad. We''re not pulling a Worm, or a One Piece here) and then I want to split the story''s focus in three directions. The first and main line remains with Cat. She''ll be the primary focus and narrator of her own story. The second line focuses on Lucy, showing her interacting with Cat, but also with outside people and forces. So... yeah, a few odd Lucy chapters every so often. Hopefully not too many to distract from the main story. I might also sprinkle in a few other POVs in this one since the goal of this volume is to set up a bunch of new arcs. If I do it well, it''ll be awesome. If I mess it up... uh, I think I can still pull it back, as long as people let me know. I''ll write this with several escape clauses built-in. Anyway... yeah, please enjoy this next volume! If I do my job right, it might well be the best one yet! *** Volume Eight - Prologue Prologue "Catherine?" Lucy asked as she stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage and was instantly hit with some regret. Why wasn''t she wearing pants? Why did she go down to the parking garage in flip-flops? Why didn''t she at least have socks on? "Fuck, it''s cold down here," she muttered to herself as she crossed her arms for warmth. The doors into the garage were open on either end of the parking space, and with so few cars here... that left very little to stop the wind. Cat''s new carrier, the Bastion of Sekhmet, was sitting not too far away, serving as a wall against the freezing, humid air coming in from outside. She walked fast, not towards the ship, but rather towards the addition Cat had installed within the side of the parking garage. Lucy frowned as she walked over. They needed more words to call things than ''garage'' because saying that Cat had a garage in the garage just stripped the word of all meaning. "Cat?" Lucy asked as she came up to the entrance of the garage-garage. This wasn''t some back-alley fixer shop like the sort where folks would come to have their DRM''d parts cracked and replaced. This was a high-tech samurai''s garage. There were wall-mounted armed... gizmos and... lifts and tools and stuff. Lucy knew that she wasn''t a stupid woman, but she also knew that she didn''t know jack about any of this stuff. Cat seemed to be in her element, though. Her girlfriend was sitting on a little stool with wheels, head bobbing in time to some music that Lucy couldn''t hear. She had large headphones on, strange ones that covered both her human ears and the cat ears atop her head. In front of her was her old mech, the Nyanzerfaust. The jacks set into the floor were raised up to cradle the mech''s chest so that none of its legs touched the ground. Cat was at one of those, humming to herself while fiddling with a long row of wires nestled inside the leg. Bits of armour were placed on the floor around her, and one of the wall-mounted gimbals was holding out a platter with more parts on it right next to Cat, well within reach. She gestured, and another servoed arm brought down a selection of tools that Cat looked over for a moment before picking from. Lucy just watched. It was strange, seeing Cat so deep in the zone, focused on her own little thing. She was used to seeing Cat getting things done, it was one of the things that made Lucy love her, but usually it was more... big and brash than this. She couldn''t complain. This was a cute hobby, not that she''d tell Cat that she thought it was cute. If Cat asked, then Lucy would tell her that having a big strong butch mechanic girlfriend was the hottest thing ever. In reality, she was just happy that Cat had something keeping her home sometimes. Home and busy with something she seemed to genuinely enjoy. "Piece of shit," Cat swore as she fiddled with something small. A little round nut thing fell and rolled a bit. Cat leaned to the side to pick it up, but Lucy was faster. "Here," she said. Cat jumped slightly on seeing Lucy''s hand, then she looked up with wide eyes and her surprise turned into a genuine smile. "Lucy," she said before tearing the headphones off. Lucy picked up the slight rumble of some metal music from around Cat''s neck. "Didn''t notice you coming in. Are you just wearing a t-shirt?" "It''s what I was sleeping in," Lucy said. "Like it?" "You''re gonna catch a cold," Cat said with a shake of her head. Her eyes were on the effects of the cold, however. "Yeah, I bet," Lucy grinned. She crossed her arms again for emphasis. "Having fun with the mech?" "Huh? Oh, yeah," Cat said as she turned back to the machine. "This leg isn''t too bad. I didn''t think I''d need to poke at it at all, but see these lines here? They''re like super-thin hydraulic lines that go down to the toes and ankles. A few of them got crimped when the mech got thrown around. So I flushed the system out and I''m replacing them as I go. Kind of a pain in the ass, honestly, but I can see why it''s made this way?" "Sure," Lucy said. "Sorry, I know this isn''t the most interesting shit," Cat said. Lucy shrugged. "It''s fine? It does look kind of interesting, but I feel like I''m missing a lot of... context, I guess?" "Yeah," Cat said with an easy nod. "I barely understand it myself, and I''m elbow deep in it." Lucy reached over and casually started to run a hand through Cat''s hair. It was new, the hair. Sleeker and softer than it had been before, but still somehow very Cat. "I''m happy you''re having fun." "Fun? This shit sucks. I''ve got like, a month of little fixes to go. Some of the parts in this thing are just plain nonsensical, I swear. Fucking alien engineering." Lucy resisted the urge to grin. The anger was real, but she suspected that if Cat hated it that much, she wouldn''t be here now, toying with the mech so early in the morning. "Anyway. Did you just come down to tease me? Because I''m okay with that." Lucy snorted. "Nuh-uh, it''s too damned cold down here for anything like that." "I could warm you up." You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Lucy flicked Cat behind one of her cat ears. It twitched and she grinned back. "That''s not what I''m here for. I, uh, got some news? I think it''s good, but I don''t know for sure." "Huh? Anything up? Things have been... kinda quiet, yeah?" Cat asked. "Yeah, mostly quiet," Lucy agreed. After the whole Phobos Incident--which was what the news was calling the whole entire thing with Phobos being flung at Earth--things had gone pretty quiet. Cat''s big projects, the sewers and even Lucy''s Kittens thing had been going... pretty smoothly? The prosthetics shop just a floor above was rolling all day long. They''d reached a nice middle-ground between prosthetic installations and their matter-creator thing being able to keep up with making new gear. That covered their own things, the stuff that was relatively close to home. What was more worrying was how the rest of the world was handling things. The Global Incursion wasn''t quite finished. There were new hives popping up all over, but the news cycle had grown tired of reporting about them already. Mostly, they were on the news when a big enough group of antithesis popped up and got put down by some local samurai. So... other than an uptick in wild hives going nuts, things should have been just fine, but they weren''t quite perfect. Cat was a woman of action, and they''d had a lot of that in the last month or so. More than they''d had in a year or two. Lucy was worried that Cat wasn''t prepared for a long dormant period where nothing really big happened. Peace wasn''t healthy for her little war Cat. Lucy continued to brush her hands through Cat''s hair while Cat fiddled with her mech. "So, uh, remember how you talked about me maybe going to a school or something?" "Huh? Oh, yeah, I remember that. Probably good to look into it for the kittens too." "That''s what I''ve been doing," Lucy said. "I wanted something like an online course for all of the kittens, something that''ll get them a proper diploma and that''ll actually teach them something, you know?" Cat nodded. "Hey, remember those computer courses we had?" "The Nimbletainment ones?" Lucy asked. She snorted. "Yeah. They were awful." "I still remember all of the jingles. Fuckers had that down to an art." That had been the centre of Lucy and Cat''s own education, a series of free online courses that the orphanage had had them take and try to pass. There was some value to it, but all of the math lessons had to do with buying sponsored products, the creative writing was always about the joy of buying something that the company made, or how to write a good review, and the science lessons were always geared towards fast-tracking them to being able to work in a factory. Mostly it was safety lessons. "I kinda wanted something... better? Anyway, I put out some feelers, and I got a reply today. Someone called me, actually." "An actual call?" Cat asked. "Yeah, not AI. It was the vice principal of CIAL. You know, that big university in the middle of the city?" Cat leaned back. "Old McGill?" "That''s its old name," Lucy said. People still called it that, but that hadn''t been the university''s name in a while. It was now the Corporate Institution for the Advancement of Learning. But that was a mouthful. "So, what did the vice principal have to say? Isn''t he like... important?" "I guess so? I guess someone noticed that I was putting feelers out, and then it got up to him? Anyway, he was interested in helping." "Bullshit," Cat said. "Yeah, obviously," Lucy said. "But he was pretty honest about it. The school has two campuses. One''s this older mega-building in the middle of the city, but the other''s their research wing and it''s a huge mini-city to the north of New Montreal. There''s a train that runs between them." "Okay?" "Yeah, turns out, they got messed up by shit during the Phobos Incident. A building folded and a lot of students died." "And you want to send the kittens there?" Cat asked. "No, but the vice principal wants a samurai student, and he''s willing to waive a lot of trouble for it," Lucy said. "Including getting a bunch of brats some one-on-one tutoring from actual teachers at their home and allowing students to basically skip ahead and take classes without all the prerequisites." Cat leaned back. "Huh... I did want you to get out more. It''s not healthy staying at home all the time." Lucy rolled her eyes, happy that Cat couldn''t see it. She was doing this to get Cat out of the house, not the other way around. "It''s up to you, really. There''s a lot of classes. There''s one for cooking that actually sounds kind of nice. Maybe I''ll start a restaurant one of these days?" "I don''t know if I can afford that many bribes." Lucy smacked Cat on the shoulder. "Just think about it. It could be fun!" Cat hummed, then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. We''ll have to go visit the place first, see what it''s like and how desperate they are. I guess I need an excuse to leave the house too." "Good! Now, speaking of my excellent cooking skills, I''m making mac and cheese." "With hot dogs?" Cat asked. "Only because I love you." *** Chapter One - Armored Elegance Takes the Stage Chapter One - Armored Elegance Takes the Stage "The state of education has never been better. Our profits have reached highs that we haven''t seen since the early 2020s!" --Richard Piece, Department of Shareholder Satisfaction, Harvard, 2048 *** I wasn''t sure if I was onboard with the whole... ''go to school'' thing. In fact, I was pretty sure it wasn''t going to work out for me. Anything I could learn in a class, I could have Myalis pump straight into my brainpan, and while I was a little nervous about shoving raw information into my brain, it was relatively easy. That, and I''d know that whatever information Myalis gave me would probably be accurate. Or accurate enough to Protector standards, and I trusted the alien''s understanding of science and shit a whole lot more than I trusted humanity''s. So, lots of cons. But there was one big pro. Lucy really wanted to go to a fancy school. I''d known it forever. Half the shows we pirated and binged were school dramas. Sometimes ancient pre-Antithesis TV shows that showed an idyllic world that I wasn''t sure was really how the past had been, and sometimes more modern slop. Modern slop meant shows that were designed around promoting some new product. Characters would break from the drama to talk up their brand new Mansung Cosmos S-series smart phone, or talk about how their clothes were the most fashionable shit. Then the show would move on. Half the actors were AI and often so were the backdrops, but that didn''t stop the shows from being... somewhat entertaining, if you purposefully turned your brain off and didn''t look for issues. Lucy used to eat that slop up. We''d lay down together, pressed in close on a mattress barely large enough for one person, with a tablet taped to the bunk above. For a few hours, at least, we could just enjoy the stupid while forgetting that we were hungry. So... maybe it wasn''t just Lucy that had a soft spot for school stuff. "So, what are the chances that Lucy''s doing all of this to distract me?" I asked. I was waiting by the Bastion of Sekhmet, the bulkhead door leading right into the cabin open behind me. It was a bit chilly in the garage, but I kind of liked it. Chilly in New Montreal made you forget that the air stank of hydrocarbons. The chances are rather high. But I suspect that Lucy''s intentions run a little deeper than just distracting you. I believe that she wants to reintegrate you into society. "What? Like releasing a wild animal?" I asked. What an apt description. I rolled my eyes. "Come on, that can''t be it. I haven''t been that bad, have I?" You have been uncharacteristically calm since the end of the Phobos incident. Your point-earning has been at an all-time low, and you haven''t spent as much time with your peers as you usually would. However, a lot of these things aren''t truly concerns when taking into account broader circumstances. "Yeah," I said. "There hasn''t been a reason to get out as much." That was mostly true. There were hives popping up all over, but for the most part, those around here were tiny things. Having so much attention in the area during the Phobos crisis had meant a lot of samurai running around looking for shit to blow up, and the local hives happened to get caught in that crossfire. The area around New Montreal was... more or less as safe as could be, all things considered. There were still outbreaks popping up, and small hives being discovered, but they were the kind of thing that would take half a day to clear and which would only pay out a few thousand points. I was now in that awkward middleground where I was getting used to functioning with absolute loads of points from decently threatening foes while also not being at the level of strength that the top-tier samurai had. It''s likely that Lucy is just worried for your mental well-being. You went from a high-tension situation to one where little is happening. "Yeah," I agreed before rubbing at my jaw. "Shit was kinda tense for a while." That wasn''t to say that there wasn''t stuff to take care of now, but... well, things were mostly handling themselves. I got a report from the Family every morning with updates on the whole sewer situation. It wasn''t always all good news, which was why I actually believed the reports at all. Mostly though, things were improving. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The prosthetic clinic was running well, and none of the samurai friends I''d made had bit the bullet in the last week or so. Most of them were either taking breaks, consolidating their shit, or working to clear out local small hives. Yeah, things were nice and quiet. It was giving me hives. "I''m here!" Lucy cheered as she ran over. She almost tripped over nothing halfway to the Bastion and I found myself moving closer to stand by her, in case she fell for real. "Hey," I said. "You look cute!" "Always!" Lucy said with a cheeky grin. She was extra cute, though. A pair of pants that cut off around mid-calf. The puffed out sort that was covered in scrawling RBG ads and filled with pockets. Her top was a midriff baring sweater, with long sleeves that Lucy had to bunch up to allow her hands to show at all. I reached up and poked at her hair. It was its usual poofy almost-fro, but she''d slipped a few little clips into it. "Cute," I repeated. Lucy pursed her lips. "No you," she said. I struck out my tongue. "Well, if you say so," I shot back. "Ready to go? First day of school and all that." "Hardly. We''re meeting with the vice principal, not going to class or anything. It''s just a meeting. I bet he''s gonna try to impress us." "He can try," I said. "I''m not easy to impress." Lucy snorted. "Sure you''re not," she said. "Are we flying this big thing over?" "The Bastion? Yeah, I don''t exactly have a normal car, unless you wanna take the bike?" Lucy shrugged. "It''s not exactly discreet." I glanced back. Yeah, landing at the school in a vehicle longer than a hovering semi-trailer covered in armour and guns was a bit much, but also... "It sends a message," I added. "What message is that?" Lucy asked. "We have aerial superiority. Good way to avoid bullies and shit, I think." Lucy blinked, then laughed. I found myself smiling, because Lucy''s laugh was just like that, a tinkling, scratchy laugh that practically forced me to join in. "You don''t think I can handle a few bullies?" she asked. "Hmm, maybe letting you lose in a school full of innocents isn''t a good idea," I said. "You might hurt someone." Lucy poked me in the short ribs. "Meanie. Should we get going? Is there even a seat for a second person in this thing?" "You could just stand in the back. You know, there''s an entire bedroom in this thing," I said as I patted the side of the Bastion''s entrance. "But yeah, there''s a seat free in the cockpit." Lucy followed me in. The Bastion had a small corridor that ran from one side to the other and joined in with the long passage between the cockpit at the front and the large bays at the rear where mechs were meant to be parked. I escorted Lucy through all the way to the cockpit, the door sliding open as we got close. The cockpit was relatively small. A single seat in the centre was surrounded by a curved screen, and there were about a million buttons and knobs all within reach of the pilot''s seat. Fortunately, there were two more bucket seats in the rear of the cockpit, both of them out of reach of anything important, button-wise. This was a vehicle meant to be piloted by one person on their own. Lucy hummed before picking which of the two seats to take, then she fumbled with her belts for a bit while I took my place in the pilot''s seat. I tapped an activation button on my augs and the seat slid forwards, the yoke coming up and settling between my knees. A few flicked switches later and the entire vehicle hummed to life. The AC came on, bathing us both in fresh, cool air, and the screen lit up with a wide-lensed view out the front of the mech. "Alright," I said as I gently raised the thrust and we started to hover off the ground and inch forwards. "Got the address before we head out?" "Ah, yeah, one sec," Lucy said. I got a ping from her a minute later and plugged the address into the ship''s GPS. "Okay," I said as I pushed the thrust in and we started to slide ahead a little faster. "Let''s see if this fancy school''s ready for us," I said. *** Chapter Two - It Doesnt Say No Parking Chapter Two - It Doesn''t Say No Parking "In the sprawling metropolises of 2152, the Parking Enforcement Authority wields power rivaling the megacorporations themselves. Equipped with drone fleets, AI surveillance, and jurisdiction over the most valuable commodity¡ªspace¡ªthey issue fines that bankrupt families and impound vehicles with surgical precision. No one dares contest their authority; to cross them is to risk social credit annihilation and permanent vehicular exile. In a world of endless expansion, their control over where you stop determines if you can ever go. Starring AI recreations of Humphrey Bogart, Katharine Hepburn, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Scarlett Johansson!" --Trailer for Post-post-post Cyberpunk movie: the Car Cop, coming to theaters June 2057 *** There was a problem that I hadn''t considered when I bought the Bastion and that was that the damned thing was fucking enormous. Being big was mostly a feature. It was a transport, and its largeness meant I could fill it with several tons of angry warmech. That was cool as fuck. What wasn''t as cool was trying to find parking. "C''mon, there''s not a single open space?" I complained as I flew a third slow circle around the parking building on the edge of the campus. The CIAL campus was a city. A small one, but a city all the same. It was just to the west of New Montreal, with the Saint-Louis between the campus and the massive metal pillars holding up the plates that New Montreal sat on. There were a few bridges across, and some of New Montreal spilled out on this side of those bridges, but for the most part, the campus was its own thing. That meant several hundred large buildings set up in neat, corded rows, then a larger, proper campus with a dozen more buildings that couldn''t stick to a single style. They were mostly all glass and steel, with gardens around them and lots of walking space, but some of them were a little more post-post modern, looking like abstract bunkers. Very cool and all, and probably inspirational to the sheep that went to class in one of those every day, but not at all helpful with my current issue. "Can we leave the Bastion hovering?" Lucy asked. "I mean, I guess, but I don''t want to," I said. Then I shrugged and pulled up and away from the parking building. The roof was covered in cars, which left no room to park in, but mostly I was concerned that the Bastion was a smidge too heavy. Turning the ship around, I drove it out towards the central campus, then reached out and pulled the lever to unfold the landing legs. I lowered the ship down gently, and came to a careful landing. I was pretty sure I''d just parked between a massive library and the school''s administrative building. Part of me hoped that I wasn''t accidentally sending a message by placing an obviously dangerous vehicle right in front of the skyscraper that served as the school''s admin building, but if they decided to read into it, that was on them. "Cat!" Lucy complained. "There are paving stones out there. You''ll crack them." "I mean... it''s a bit late to complain? We''ve landed already," I said. "Besides, if they didn''t want me parking here, they could have put up a no-parking sign." Lucy shook her head, but unbuckled herself all the same. "Sec," she said after standing up. A few seconds later, she nodded. "Sent a text to the vice principal. Not that I think he''ll need it." "Yeah, I bet," I said. I paused to look at the screen. The space I parked in was a large plaza ringed by those fancy school buildings. It was pretty much clear of cars, though there was a tram going by. I double-checked to make sure I wasn''t parked on a tram-line, but it seemed like we were safe. I was pretty sure that if it came to it, the Bastion would win in a head-on collision with a train, let alone a tram, but I didn''t wanna risk it anyway. I shrugged, then picked up my jacket on the way out of the cockpit--or was it a bridge if it was large enough to stand in?--and slung it on before catching up to Lucy by the side entrance. "Ready?" I asked. "Yup!" she said. "You know, you''re not allowed to bring guns onto campus." "I... parked a tank here, you think they''re gonna freak out about a couple of guns?" I asked. I wasn''t even going in with that much. I had my Laser Pointer, a compact bullpup SMG slung down by the small of my back, and my Trenchmaker was tucked in a thigh holster by my side. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Oh, and I had a few grenades in my coat pockets, but whatever. The door opened and fresh, cold air swept into the Bastion. Lucy laughed as the wind whipped around us, but the pressure soon equalized and I hopped out ahead of her, then reached back to help her down the slight ramp. We were being stared at, which I figured wasn''t too surprising. A lot of people were moving around on foot, or riding these little motorized bike things around at a pace not much faster than walking. "Oh, uniforms," Lucy said. "Yeah," I replied. The school, university, whatever, had a uniform. It seemed somewhat lax. Black and red and white were the colours of the day, and it looked like the students either had their pick from a selection of coats and pants and skirts and blouses, or there was some sort of hierarchy that I wasn''t aware of in how they dressed. "So, did your guy tell you where to go from here?" I asked. Lucy snorted. "My guy has just replied to my text. He asked me where we parked, said a shuttle was on its way to ferry us over, and then said ''nevermind.'' I think we caught him off-guard." I shrugged. So, we were off to a great start, then? Keeping paperpushers off their toes was the best way to handle them. "Oh, there he is!" Lucy said. I turned and followed her gaze to the admin building. It was a skyscraper, or what might have passed for one a hundred years ago. Thirty floors, mostly glass, and with a sort of massive tear-drop shape. The front doors were opened at the moment, and a skinny man was jogging out accompanied by two others who were obviously guards, and what looked like an aid. The man was a thirty-something sort, maybe forty? With that kind of super-thick hair that only came from people who had implanted fake hair in to cover up a balding patch. His suit was white, with a thin red trim along the edges of the cuffs and lapel and with the CIAL logo proudly pinned to his tie. "Samurai Stray Cat, I presume," he said as he slowed down. He was a little out of breath, but not too badly so. "And Miss Lucy Leblanc, I''m happy to see you." "Huh?" I asked. Lucy glanced at me from the corner of her eye and grinned. That... that was my family name, not hers. I glanced away and tried not to allow myself to blush. "Hi! You''ve got to be Vice Principal Imgreen," she said while extending a hand to shake. The vice principal shook, then he looked at me, flushed a little, and just bobbed his head in something like a nervous bow. "It''s a pleasure to meet you both. When I heard that there was even the faintest potential for us to have a samurai student, why, I was overjoyed." "Really?" I asked. "Of course! It would be the third time in CIAL''s history that an alumni of the university becomes a samurai," he said. That was¡ actually, kind of a lot? Samurai weren''t exactly growing on trees. There were maybe a couple million of us on Earth? I wasn''t sure about raw numbers, but for more than one to come from the same school was pretty big. Not like, statistically impossible or anything, but still, a lot. "That''s cool," I said. "I''ll have to look into them." "Ah, yes," he replied with a grin that looked as fake as his hair. The vanguard in question have passed away. The most recent one in 2044. Only one of them was actively a student of this school when they were chosen to become a Vanguard. The other had left the academic lifestyle some time prior and is only considered an alumni post-mortem. Now that was appropriately dark and kinda fucked up. It was a little weird that it reassured me. "Please, follow me, I''ll show you around the campus. Ah, you may leave your... vehicle parked where it is, of course. We can assign some campus police to watch over it." "Nah, that''s fine. It''s got point-defence weapons," I said. The explanation didn''t seem to reassure the poor guy, and I think that Lucy caught on because she was holding back giggles. "Anyway, show us this campus of yours. I think Lucy''s interested in your... cooking classes? What''s different about cooking classes at a university compared to like, at a community centre anyway?" The vice principal''s mouth worked, but he rallied and was soon going on a spiel that I had a hard time caring about. The things I did for love. *** Chapter Three - Electives in Future Tribulations Chapter Three - Electives in Future Tribulations "Cooking isn''t just about feeding people¡ªit''s about shaping the future. We splice flavors like genes, sear tradition with plasma torches, and plate memories with AI precision. A great dish isn''t made in the kitchen anymore; it''s engineered in the soul. --Cook-O-Tron, the At Home AI Chef, 2029 *** The CIAL campus was bigger than I imagined. It encompassed the entirety of the little city around the main campus and about half a dozen much larger buildings around the central park area. These were the picturesque, big, modern buildings that looked good on postcards, but they weren''t the whole of it. The campus extended below-ground as well. "This entire area, formerly the Perrot Island area, was slated to be New Montreal''s first mega-city platform. However, the project was cancelled early in its development. The University saw an opportunity, purchased the plate, and has since used it as its primary campus," the Vice Principal said. He tapped one of his shiny loafers against the paved road we were on. "It doesn''t look like it, but there is actually a single-floor level beneath the entire campus." "That''s kinda big," I said. It wasn''t an exaggeration either. The campus had to cover a dozen square kilometres or something. There was plenty of grass and a few parks, and lots of roadways going around. "What about those buildings over there?" I was pointing to the rows upon rows of cookie-cutter complexes. There were rather blocky buildings, maybe ten stories high, and all placed in neat rows. "The dormitories? Ah, yes, we have dormitories here capable of housing three hundred thousand." "You have that many students?" Lucy asked. "Oh? No, forgive me. That''s the entirety of the campus population, and while yes a majority of that number is made up of our student body, a large portion is taken up by our staff. Administrators, teachers, janitors, maintenance. We have our own police, fire and combat forces, three small on-site hospitals and several clinics. The CIAL campus is a city unto itself, and most of our citizens live in those buildings right there." "Wild," I said. "Of course, there are several buildings set aside where the dormitories have... an increased amount of room and access to greater creature comforts. For the discerning student that wishes for more space to rest and relax in," the Vice Principal said. "Do any students drive in?" Lucy asked. "From outside of the campus, I mean?" "Oh, certainly. There''s a nominal parking fee, as well as a monthly cost for use of the campus road. Not that we would impose such a thing on you, of course." The entire time we were chatting, the Vice Principal was leading us along through the central part of the campus. It was... a nice spot, I''ll admit. Very open, with benches and a few trees providing shade. There was a nice hill there, with green grass where a few students were laid out and taking in what little sun came through the overcast sky. He was very clearly heading towards one building in particular, but doing so in the most inefficient way possible. It was a meandering path that kinda forced us to take in the sights. I didn''t blame him, exactly, I had all day, after all, and Lucy was enjoying herself, but it did feel kind of wasteful. "Let''s start by looking into the culinary schooling you mentioned?" he asked. "We have a fantastic course led by a former Michelin-star chef currently under our employ as an educator. It''s a rather tough course, but I believe the level of challenge might depend on how many other courses you decide to take on." "How many is normal?" I asked. The Vice Principal smiled. "We try not to give our students more than it would be possible for them to take on," he replied. "Really?" Lucy asked. She smiled. "I heard online that it''s basically impossible not to take on a lot of courses all at once, even if you don''t want to take some of them, and that if you fail those, you might have to repeat them later before you''re allowed to get your diploma or whatever." "That''s mean," I said. "I know, right? And then you have to pay for all of the classes too," Lucy said. "And they really load you up on them. Like, it''s a full-time job with overtime amount of classwork." If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "I feel like I''d just not show up to anything I don''t care about," I said. "I think that''s what a lot of people do? But like, you''re still paying for the classes you''re not showing up to. But there''s a ''skip this class'' fee thing that you can pay." "There are... certain classes that many students opt into only to then avoid. These are generally the classes with the cheapest opt-out fee," the Vice Principal said with a smile. "It may seem unfair on the surface, but it''s one of the primary methods that CIAL earns its keep. There are also corporate sponsored students who only take courses that fit their career-oriented goals." I nodded along, then looked at Lucy. "Did you wanna do the whole... busy course load thing?" Lucy shook her head. "Fuck no, I''ve got a life." "Ah, no worries," the Vice Principal said as he stepped up and held a door open for us. "We can be very accommodating to our VIP students! Which courses were you looking into other than Cooking, Miss Leblanc?" I felt a jolt at hearing my name, then a different sort when I realized he meant Lucy. She, of course, knew that, and gave me a stupid grin in reply. "I was thinking Cooking and then maybe something on political leadership? I feel like they go together well." "I see. I''m certain we can work something out. And yourself, Miss Stray Cat?" "Just Cat''s fine," I said. "And... uh..." Crap, I hadn''t thought this far ahead. I''d mentioned engineering, but like... fuck me, that was probably an order of magnitude more than I was ready for. Did someone need to have like, basic math down before they started to figure out engineering? I wasn''t even sure I actually understood algebra. I''ve completed a full audit of this institution''s educational material, downloaded all of the online lessons and pirated content, and read all of the textbooks. "That was fast," I said while raising a hand to the side of my head to indicate that I was in a call. It took longer for your faster neuron to fire. In any case, might I suggest that you take on a physical combat class? There are several, including at least three that I think you''d find enjoyable and useful in the long term. My other suggestion would be to take the same political leadership course as Lucy. There are better versions available, but I believe that the course itself might not necessarily be wasted on you. And it would mean staying with Lucy. "Sorry about that," I said. "My AI was auditing your course load. You guys have some pretty decent self-defence courses, yeah? Martial arts and the like?" "We do," the Vice Principal said. "A lot of our students go on to become officers in various paramilitary organizations, or simply want to have a solid background in physical defence." He led us through the building and up a set of stairs before we came onto a doorway that he casually opened. I was hit by a wave of strong smells. Spices and cooked meats and other tasty odours all mixed together rather chaotically. We were in a kitchen. A massive one, with several dozen cooking stations set up in neat rows. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling and there were at least fifty stoves being attended to by students wearing large white aprons over their uniform blouses. A man at the far end of the room was in a more traditional cook''s outfit, pleated hat and all, and he was currently giving a cowering young man an entire heap of shit while pointing at a plate with something that looked like fish on it. The back end of the room, where we were, had some open space with rows of tables and stools behind them facing an electronic blackboard. So the room was split down the middle. Half massive kitchen, half normal classroom. "Let''s not interrupt needlessly," the Vice Principal said. "This is a third-year cooking class. Each of these students, assuming they pass of course, will go on to become a professional chef. We even have a very respectable post-graduation job placement system in place!" "Well, I don''t know about being professional," Lucy said. "But I think it might be fun all the same! Can we check out the rest of the school? Oh! And do you have cool clubs too?" "Of course! And yes, we have some very nice extra-curricular groups here at CIAL," he replied. What a salesman. I was working hard not to roll my eyes over here. *** Chapter Four - Revolutionary Girl Lucy Chapter Four - Revolutionary Girl Lucy "Attendance in higher education has gone through some periods of highs and lows. Counting from the start of the 20th century when education started to become more prominent throughout the western sphere, we see a sharp rise in the number of people getting educated for longer, with dips during the Great Depression, the two World Wars, and a massive rise during the eighties and into the nineties. In the 21st century, we see a similar dip during the 2027 Great Depression, and then a sharper fall in the 2030s, with a subsequent rise during the early 2040s to where we are today. We haven''t quite recovered to mid-2010s levels, but we''re quite close." --Rise and Fall of the Educated, a thesis, 2051 *** "So, what did you think?" Lucy asked as we stepped back into the Bastion. "Eh," I said with a shrug. The vice principal had a few things to show us after the cooking class, but the other classes were out at the moment, and so there really wasn''t too much to show except for some empty training facilities and some big rooms that had nothing in them. We did meet with one professor, the hardass teacher who did combat training, and I kind of liked that bit, but... it wasn''t huge? "Yeah, I had the feeling you''d feel that way," Lucy said. She didn''t sound disappointed or upset about it. "I mean, yeah. But I don''t mind coming over a few times," I said. Lucy wanted this, and it was hardly a huge sacrifice. Though it did beg the question. "So, did you just wanna do the cooking thing, and that''s it?" "Hmm," Lucy hummed. "Yes and no. Did you know that a lot of revolutions start in schools?" I blinked, pausing halfway to the bridge. "Uh.. I guess?" I said. "What''s that got to do with learning how to cook?" Lucy snorted, and then she wrapped her arms around my middle and dropped her head into the crook of my neck. "Silly," she declared. "The cooking thing is an excuse." "You''ve got plans, then?" I asked. "I''ve got ambitions," she replied. "And while I appreciate your help, I think I can do a lot to push them forwards all on my own. I just need to be in the right place and at the right time, with maybe the right contacts." "And do you care to share those with me?" I asked. For a moment a small part of me worried that Lucy might have ambitions that didn''t include me, but that struck me as unlikely. "Mhm!" she said before breaking the hug only to squeeze past me and into the cockpit. She flumped onto one of the seats at the back, the opposite one from the seat she''d taken on the way here. "So! Schools foster revolution. Do you know why?" "I have no idea," I said. "Yeah, same. At least, I didn''t know. But I''ve been looking into it for a while now. You remember the Kittens in Burlington?" "Can''t forget, yeah," I said. "You''re still in contact with them, right?" That was the group of normal citizens that Lucy and I had armed up. They''d turned into a... somewhat competent group of fighters. Not great. They didn''t have the training or even the equipment of a proper PMC, but as far as volunteer militias went, I think they were nearer the top. "I am!" Lucy said. "It''s pretty calm though. Burlington is safe, and now there''s not as much use for the Kittens as an organization. Still, I managed to kinda-sorta buy some space in a few buildings downtown." "With what money?" I asked. "Donations," Lucy said. "Like, if every member gives you a hundred or so credits, that adds up real fast. Plus we sold some extra equipment, did some food drives, and just kind of... gathered a bit of money. And the price of stuff in the city dropped a bunch after the incursion. Anyway, my point is that we now have a soup kitchen, a clothes shop, and a small community centre going, where people can help each other. It''s all very nice and wholesome. Not great for generating credits, but it''s good for the rep." "Huh... okay, and you''ve been doing this from home?" Lucy shrugged. "It''s less work than you think? I mostly just need to be the final word and tell some people what to do and others to remove the sticks lodged up their behinds." I nodded. Lucy was impressive that way. "So, what''s that got to do with this school? Or revolution, for that matter?" "Well, your speech at that funeral? Last week? I think that and a few other things are... they''re sparking something. People want change. They always do. And when it happens, it can be really good. As much as it can be really bad. I''d rather we end up on the really good side of things." You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. I worked my tongue over my teeth as I thought about it. "Okay," I finally said. "Sure. I can see wanting to ride things out on the winning side." "Exactly. Anyway, schools are where a lot of revolutions happen. I don''t think it''s just one thing, either. I think it''s a bunch of smaller factors, and I guess some bigger ones, all smooshed together." "What do you mean?" I asked. "I mean, the students are younger, but they''re old enough not to be babied anymore. A lot of them are ''free'' for the first time. You know?" she asked. It was rhetorical, but I nodded anyway. "And then there''s this kind of... constant frustration with authority. Combine that with a place where people are introduced to a lot of new ideas, and a place where people can network and make new connections, join new communities... yeah, it''s not hard to imagine a campus being the one spot where sparks find something to burn. There are a lot of people here with a lot to prove and nothing to lose, and yet unlike the Kittens, they''re mostly young and they think that they''re real smart." I resisted the urge to point out that both of us were probably on the younger side for college students. "Anyway! I think that if we want to extend the Kittens into New Montreal, this''ll be a good place to start. Plus, the school''s kinda desperate at the moment." "They are?" I asked. "They didn''t seem that way. Sure, hyped to get a samurai student, but not desperate." Lucy smiled. "That''s because he didn''t show us the entire campus. There''s a whole section that was destroyed by some antithesis that came down. A lot of parents are pissed off because their kids died. The school told the army to piss off and that they had their own security." "And it wasn''t enough?" I asked. "It''s like, riot cops and normal security. School police. Not an army. They were really not equipped for tackling aliens," Lucy said. "So there were a lot more deaths than necessary." "How did the school survive the global incursion, then?" I asked. New Montreal had a wall all the way around it now. "Lots of favours, I think," Lucy said. She shrugged. "There''s a lot of important people that went to school here. This is where they made lots of their earliest connections." I eyed Lucy for a moment. "Are you sure you don''t want to be mayor?" I asked. Lucy poked herself in the cheek and tilted her head to the side. "I''m too cute for politics. Tee-hee." I shuddered. "Don''t ever do that again," I said. Lucy''s laugh was more genuine after that. "Sorry! But maybe later? I think I''d either just get chewed up and spit out, or I''d be shoved into a corner where nothing I say matters, like the last few presidents and prime ministers. Just a punching bag for the media, you know? I''d need years of connection-making before I can even start going down that route." Years of connection-making that she could very well do in the place known for making connections. I shook my head. My girlfriend was scary sometimes. It was also real hot. "You know, if you get into politics, you''ll have to start wearing pantsuits," I said. "Oh? Is that a bad thing?" Lucy asked. "No. Very much the opposite. Who doesn''t like a lady in uniform?" Lucy snorted. "C''mon! We left the Kittens at home unwatched for a few hours. We''ll probably come back to find the entire building burnt to a crisp and the kids complaining that they''re hungry." Yeah, that sounded about right. "Alright, alright," I said as I took my seat and started to flick on the Bastion''s engines. A minute or so later we were pulling up and away from the campus. I... suspected we''d be coming back here soon enough. Which probably meant finding a more appropriate place to park in. Maybe they''d give me one of those stickers I could slap onto the windshield that let me get access to their parking garage? I resisted the urge to laugh. I didn''t know if they had parking police here, but if they did, then the poor idiots would need a serious raise. "What''re you laughing at?" Lucy asked. "Ah, nothing smart," I said as I kicked us off the ground and started to rotate the Bastion in the general direction of home. "Nothing smart at all." *** Chapter Five - I Really Wanna Visit Your Home Chapter Five - I Really Wanna Visit Your Home "Wisdom is a relic. Truth is a malfunction. The only things that matter are what can be sold, stolen, or weaponized. Ideas don''t pay rent. Morals don''t keep the lights on. And if knowledge was ever power, it got outbid a long time ago." --Cute-cute cocobooty, Vtuber, 2032 *** It wasn''t often that I considered visiting someone at their home, but I was willing to make an exception for Gomorrah. Mostly because she lived an elevator''s ride away and I didn''t actually need to step out of the house to visit her. I rode the elevator down to her floor, then stepped out into a sort of mini lobby space that Gomorrah had created. There was a bench to one side, and a nice front door with a mat on the ground before it that read Welcome in some fancy script. It was kind of cozy, I supposed, though I was keenly aware that there were two turrets mounted to the ceiling, their nozzles pointed right at me. There was a little flickering light at the end of each, a flame no bigger than what a lighter could put out. A pilot light, I think? Was the bench and that little mat fireproof? They''d have to be if Gomorrah ever decided to cook a door-to-door salesman one day. I walked up to the door and rapped my knuckles against it in a quick ''shave and a haircut'' pattern, then I sat back on my heels and waited. It took a minute, but eventually I heard movement on the other side, and the door swung open. Delilah stood there, a frown in full view as she took a moment to scan me up and down. "Catherine?" she asked. "Yo!" I said. "I brought cookies." Apparently, people with houses brought each other gifts when visiting, which was something I was all for since people kept showing up at my place. I presented Delilah with a box of store-bought cookies, and she took them by instinct. "Uh, thank you?" she said. "What are you here for? Did you want to step in?" "Sure? If I''m not bothering? You and Franny weren''t--" "Franny isn''t here right now," Delilah cut in before I could imply anything amusing. "She''s taking care of some things. What''s the visit for?" "Can''t I just stop by to say hi?" I asked as I stepped in. I couldn''t help but swivel my head around and take the place in. It was a very different style than my place. A lot more... sleek modernism. Blacks and whites all over, bright fluorescent lighting, and minimalist furniture. The living room I saw had a few sofas that looked like cushioned slabs and a fireplace that looked a bit too large for its own good. Delilah eyed me for a moment. "I suppose. But I''m inclined to suspect that something is up." "Literally nothing is up," I said as I followed her past the living room and into her kitchen. It was nice and spacious, larger even than the one at our place, but it looked... kind of empty? I guess it was because it was so clean. Not that ours was that messy, it''s just that Lucy left out some of the spice racks and frequently-used tools, and it made the space feel lived-in and used. I wasn''t sure if this kitchen here had even been used to boil water yet. "Well, you''ve been quiet for nearly a week, which is the longest time I''ve ever not seen you causing trouble," Delilah said as she sat on a stool. She gestured for me to take another and I did. "Are you really just laying back and taking a proper break?" "Eh, so so? I''ve been fixing my mech, which is taking a surprisingly long time. It got chewed up good, you know? Gonna be a while before it''s back to a usable shape. And other than that, I don''t know what I have to really do. That''ll probably change soon, though." "Oh?" Delilah asked. "Are you planning something? Also, do you want anything to drink?" I considered it for a second, then shrugged. "Sure. Anything would do. And yeah Lucy''s going to this school. Uh, CIAL, with the big campus right next to New Montreal." "I know of it," Delilah said. "I have a few friends that have gone there." "Really?" I asked. She came back with a can of soda from the fridge and I popped the tab. She nodded. "Of course. The school I lived in only covers education up to a certain level. Early college, at most. Those who want further education need to go to a school that specializes in whatever subject they''re particularly interested in. CIAL is one of the better-reputed schools in the region." This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. "Right, I guess that makes sense. Not all the mini-nuns at your nunnery are there to become... mega nuns?" "Please just... remove all religious vocabulary from your mind. It''ll save the whole world a headache," she said. "But in essence, yes. I''m not from an orphanage, Cat. The others, like Franny and the other sisters you met, have families outside of the dormitories. A lot of those have corporate ties and would like to see their daughters rise up the ranks, and that can mean a good post-secondary education. What surprises me in all of this is Lucy taking the time to get an education." "Hey, it''s not just her," I said. Delilah stared at me. "You''re going to school as well?" "Yeah? Why are you looking at me like that?" "I can''t imagine you sitting down in a classroom for more than three minutes without someone dying," Delilah said. "Does... does the school know how much trouble they''re inviting?" "They know, and I think they want it," I said. "Look, I''m only taking classes that seem kinda interesting, and I''m gonna bail the second it''s boring. I''m mostly there because Lucy wants to go, and I want to make sure no one gets any ideas." Delilah eyed me for a bit, then shrugged. "Fine. Can''t say it''s entirely a bad idea. With things globally quieting down I suppose we all need to find something productive to do with our time." "Yeah," I agreed. "What about you, then? What are you doing with your ample free time?" "I''ve been focusing on myself, in part," Delilah said. "Some time off has been good for me, I think. But also, I have been studying a fair bit in my free time, and I''ve started to assist a few volunteer programs across the city." "Really? You know, community service done before the crime doesn''t count, right?" I asked. She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I''m aware. I''m doing it for the actual good of the community, however. It''s one of the few things that I actually genuinely enjoy doing." "What''re you studying, then?" I asked. "Philosophy," she replied. It was incredible how a single word could almost put me asleep all on its own. "The philosophy of burning things?" I asked. "Or is that more a therapy thing?" "You jest, but I''m serious. We have great power. Some would say that that power comes with a moral cost. That we have to use that power to assist and improve the lives of others." "I don''t know. Every oligarch I''ve ever seen had had great power, and they seemed pretty happy on their super yachts and mega mansions," I said. "Some would say that they''ve failed." "Some people wouldn''t be heard over the live orchestra they can hire to play a symphony every time they take a shit," I countered. Delilah sniffed. "And this is why we need philosophy." "Sure," I said. "So, did you find anything more interesting than ''rich people bad'' in your studies, or was that the whole of it?" "No, it''s more than that," she said. "How much do you actually care?" "I mean... I came here, with cookies and everything. I don''t just do that for people I''m not friends with, you know?" I tried. Delilah eyed me for a few long seconds, then shook her head. "You''re a weird woman, Catherine." "That''s not very nun-like of you to say," I said. "Currently, I''m studying the philosophical principles of interconnected ignorance. It''s less a philosophy and more... a repeated observation about human nature, I suppose. Essentially, it posits that at certain times, a group of people or a network collectively lacks knowledge or hold a misconception as truth, and due to their shared ignorance, they reinforce their belief in the wrong conjecture." I nodded sagely. "I know most of those words," I said. "Just not in that order." "Yes, I think the ignorance part of the entire idea is one you encapsulate well," she shot back. "Hey now, I can at least tell when I''m being insulted, most of the time," I said. "So, what''s all that got to do with the price of butter?" "Not very much, but it does suggest that... let''s sit down in the living room. I need a black coffee and better seating if I''m actually going to cover this with the likes of you." *** Interlude Lucy - School Days Interlude Lucy - School Days Lucy looked at herself in the mirror, then gave a little spin. CIAL had their own uniform. From what she understood, and from what she saw, there were some strict rules about what a person could and couldn''t wear, but the rules were also pretty relaxed in other ways. The school sold uniforms, and the prices were... well, they weren''t cheap. 15,000 credits for a blazer made her skin crawl. It wasn''t that much, in the grand scheme of things, but it was enough that she recoiled from the very idea of spending that much. Fortunately, they had a cheaty device that could print just about anything, and a cheeky Myalis to help create 3d files for said printer. The official CIAL uniform included a blazer, with different colours for different years, pants or a skirt, and all-black shoes. Her uniform was all-black, except for a few shiny white lines running along the seams of her blazer and along the edge of her skirt. Her official school shoes had red laces that stood out rather starkly. Black and white like that meant that she was the lowest level of student at the school. Or something like that. There were different marks as a person rose in ranks and years. She suspected that that was on purpose. It didn''t mean anything, but it created a quick visual hierarchy that she imagined a certain type of person would quickly become obsessed with. Reaching down, she tugged her thigh-high socks up a bit. The trick with those was to have them stop just short of the hem of her skirt. That little bit of squished thigh? That shit would drive any gay girl mad. Lucy grinned at herself. She felt... strangely pretty. Not that she''d ever thought of herself as not pretty, but... being able to move as she wanted to, without the shakes, the aches in her legs, the sudden waves of tiredness? It felt empowering. Plus, the better diet and self care meant that her skin was practically glowing. She ran her hands through her hair, puffing it out a little--getting her hair to sit in anything but some variation of a curly fro was a lost cause--and then she picked up a purse and slung it over her shoulder. It was shaped like a big poofy cat''s head, and was very cute. Plus, she needed a place to put her gun. It was one of those Foxteeth that Cat had given to all of the Kittens a while back. She figured she wouldn''t need it, but it was better to be safe than sorry. A touch at her neck, where that necklace Cat had given her lay, and she was ready. "What do you think?" she asked the presence behind her. A large form peeled itself out of nothing, revealing a mechanized cat whose head came up to mid-waist on her. The P.U.S.S Model Y shifted, then stretched. It looked like a bengal tiger, if bengal tigers came equipped with several machine guns and a rocket launcher. This one was the one she usually found following her around the house, or when she had to go downstairs to check on something. Not that it was easy to spot, being invisible and deathly quiet. She only knew it was around sometimes because it opened doors behind her and elevators took a moment longer to close than they should have. There were four more of the same model around the house. Maybe. Probably. She''d never seen them all in the same place. She supposed that others might have been worried, living in a home with so many invisible things able to rip them to shreds, but Lucy felt like it was rather comforting. With a final nod to herself, and a brilliant smile that she usually saved for Cat, she flumped out of the bedroom. She found Cat waiting for her by the elevator, back leaning against the wall, eyes glazed over in that way that meant she was looking at something on her augs. "Oh, you dressed up too?" Lucy asked. She let her gaze trail up and down Cat''s body in a way that some people would call lecherous. Those people would be correct. Cat was in a tight shirt with a long collar, like a turtleneck but with exposed shoulders. Said shoulders were well exposed because Cat had let her blazer fall back, it was only staying on because her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her cargo pants. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Those weren''t regulation. Nor was the handcannon strapped to Cat''s thigh. Her cargo pants were high-waisted with a thin little belt, and were bunched up at the calf. "Looking dangerous," Lucy purred. Cat snorted, then blinked whatever was on her augs away. She stared at Lucy. Really stared. Lucy felt her grin widening. She didn''t like it when strangers looked at her like she was a fresh piece of meat, but when Cat stared and fought back a blush like that? Yeah, that made Lucy feel a certain way. "That''s a lot of cat themed stuff," Cat finally said. "You like it?" Lucy asked. She pulled her blazer open a little, revealing a simple t-shirt with the Stray Cat logo on it. "I printed it special!" She walked over, then gave Cat a quick hug. Then she leaned in and whispered into her ear. "The skirt is hiding other cat-themed things too," she said. "Ah," Cat replied. Lucy held back a giggle. Teasing Cat was her number one favourite activity. The results of teasing Cat was her number two favourite activity. But none of that right now, she didn''t want to arrive at school all messed up for her first day. "Are we heading out soon?" she asked. "I was waiting for you," Cat said. "Did you get that class schedule thing from the VP?" "Yup! Culinary classes first thing in the morning, then political sciences in the afternoon. There''s like, two hours between the classes, which feels like a lot." "Yeah, I guess. I loaded up the Nyanzerfaust''s broken leg into the Bastion. I can tinker with that during the break," Cat said. "Got combat in the morning and then the same class as you in the afternoon. Wild how we just happened to be invited over just as all these classes are starting up in the middle of a semester, huh?" "Yup, wild," Lucy said with a grin. They headed downstairs where the Bastion was waiting for them. "Do you think we should paint it yellow?" Lucy asked. "Paint it yellow? The Bastion?" Cat asked. "Lucy, I''m not painting my awesome mech carrier school bus yellow." "Aww, but it would be topical." "It would stick out like a sore thumb," Cat said. "It''s a twenty-five metre long flying brick with cat ears and more guns than a tank," Lucy pointed out. "It''s less like a sore thumb and more like... a sore hand? Wait... a sore arm? Let me workshop that analogy a little more. Point is, it''s not subtle!" "And painting it yellow would make it even less subtle," Cat pointed out. Lucy laughed as she found her seat in the cockpit and watched Cat expertly and easily turn the ship on and start to pilot it out of the garage. "Sure, but that could be a good thing. It''s like... a frog." "A frog. If you convince Myalis to change my name and theme to frogs I''m walking off the roof," Cat said. "I''ve got enough trouble with the whole cat stuff all over. You know she''d somehow cover all of my crap in slimy goop just because it''s thematic." "I meant more like, you know, poisonous frogs are colourful to tell people that they''re dangerous," Lucy said. "Yeah, and machinery and buses are yellow to warn people not to get in their way for the same reason," Cat said. "The NMT buses aren''t yellow," Lucy pointed out. "They might have been once, but now they''re all shit coloured from flying through too much smog," Cat said. They argued about buses and paint schemes for a while, at least until the CIAL campus came into view ahead on the wide screen in front of Cat and they started to descend towards the main plaza of the campus. Cat snorted when she noticed that someone had marked out a large rectangle, about the size of the Bastion, with several cones. They''d painted Samurai Parking in the middle of the rectangle. She came down near it, parking the Bastion an entire car-length to the side of the box. "Cat," Lucy said. "You''re doing that on purpose." "It''s funnier this way," Cat said. "C''mon, they''re using me being here for their own shit, the least I can do is poke them about it." Lucy shook her head, but she didn''t have time to argue because it would soon be time for class. *** Chapter Six - Invisible Cougars in Your Area Chapter Six - Invisible Cougars in Your Area "DANIEL (rolling eyes) Philosophy is important, Ma. It helps us understand the world. MRS. CALLAWAY (scoffs, adjusting the settings on the printer) Philosophy? Sweetheart, philosophy can''t fill your plate. You gonna eat thoughts and prayers? - CANNED LAUGH TRACK - MRS. CALLAWAY (shaking head) No, no, sweetheart. What you need is a solid education in something grounded. Something you can use. Like this handy 3D food printer, by Ceglia!" --Excerpt from Callaway''s Bunch, AI-generated prime-time drip feed media, 2035 *** Delilah had gone on about... ignorance or some such the night before. It was a lot and she was pretty excited about it, in her own little Delilah way. Anyway, it was very smart and very philosophical, and I think I forgot about half of it by the time I woke up, and most of the rest slipped by me when I saw Lucy in a short shirt and thigh highs--with the little gap--but some small bits kinda stuck, like shit in a bowl. It was gonna take more than a flush to completely erase what she''d said. I had the impression that Delilah wouldn''t have been happy about that analogy. "Are you smiling that much because you''re excited, or is it something else?" Lucy asked "Just thinking about something Delilah said," I replied with a dismissive wave. I wasn''t about to explain that joke to Lucy. "Thought it fit this whole situation well?" Lucy did that cute thing where she tilted her head a smidge, like a curious puppy who didn''t quite get something. I just smiled, then slipped past her and deeper into the Bastion. I decided to exit out from one of the bays in the middle of the ship, just because. It was easier for the smaller cat drones that would keep an eye on Lucy to follow that way. I think she knew about one of them, but not the other two. Sure, one was probably enough, but what if someone suicidal made an actual attempt to hurt Lucy? All it would take is a group coming in from multiple angles for a single cat droid to not be enough. So three it was. One was a bigger model, and two of them were the smaller dumbasses that I''d been using for a while. I wasn''t sure how many I''d bought this far, but there always seemed to be one around the house. It was only strange because I don''t think I''d ever bought one at our place, which begged the question of how they got home. As we stepped out, I could make out a crowd of students milling not too far away. They were keeping to the far end of the cobbled road from the Bastion, which was probably pretty wise. "Myalis, can we make sure the point defence on the ship doesn''t shoot anyone if they try something mildly stupid?" I muttered. And if the thing they attempt is more than mild? "I mean... a warning shot to start?" There was a loud and rather ominous ka-clunk from the ship behind and above me. Primary cannon armed. "You''re so fucking cute," I said. "I think she''s very cute," Lucy said as she stepped up next to me. "I don''t know what she actually looks like, but I''m sure it''s very pretty. Maybe she has a little bow on top of her... circuit board, or whatever?" "Your lack of computer knowledge is showing," I said. Lucy stuck her tongue out at me and poked my cheek in punishment. Please let Lucy know that I am, in fact, adorable. You may also start adoring me at your leisure. I didn''t, in fact, tell her that, instead I gestured with a nod towards a familiar face approaching us through the crowd. "Looks like the VC is here to say hi," I said. The Vice Principal ran over while adjusting the fit of his jacket. He put on a brave smile as he stopped nearby. "Hello and good morning," he said. "I''m happy to see you both here." "Hey," I said. "You got here fast." "We had some of the information security department monitoring social media feeds. A few students around New Montreal noticed your... rather distinct vessel and so I knew to be ready for you. Ah, you''ll note that we marked out a nice area for you to park in. It''s right over here." He gestured about five metres next to the Bastion. "Oh, that''s nice," I said. "See," Lucy said. "It doesn''t matter if your ship''s yellow or not, people notice it all the same." This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. "We''re not painting it yellow," I said with a laugh. The VC chuckled along too, which was weird, because there was no way he was in on the joke. Weird little man. "In any case, welcome to your first day at CIAL as students. I see that you''ve taken to our uniforms. That''s... quite nice. It looks good on you." He only paused for a split second on seeing the Trenchmaker strapped to my leg. No comment though, which was a point in his favour. "So, I took the liberty of finding two students who happen to have the same classes as you this morning. I''m certain you could find your way over yourselves, but this will make it a little easier, I think." I glanced past the vice principal and finally noticed two students that had followed him but who had stayed a respectable distance behind. A boy and a girl. They were... kinda weird. Not bad looking. Actually, it was the opposite. I wasn''t one to judge a guy''s looks, but the dude looked pretty handsome, in that blonde-hair, blue eyes and square jaw kind of way. A real Clark-Kent sort, with the nerdy glasses that were definitely a fashion statement and the school blazer. The girl next to him was a tall brunette with a dancer''s physique who wore the school uniform real well, though her skirt was at least a modest length compared to what Lucy had on. "This is Ethan Parker, and Olivia Bennett," the Vice Principal said as he gestured to the boy and girl in turn. "They''re freshmen students, as you are, but both of them have been through most of their formative education right here at CIAL." "A pleasure to meet you," Ethan said. "Hello. Welcome to CIAL," Olivia added. "Hi!" Lucy replied with a cute little wave. "It''s nice that you thought about that. I was worried I might get lost. The campus map looks pretty good, but the free trial version I found didn''t have everything. It''ll be great to have someone to guide me around. Um, since we''re going to different classes... who''s going with who?" "Ah, yes, you want to know with whom you''re going. Miss Leblanc, you''ll be guided to your culinary courses by Mister Parker here. As for you, Miss Stray Cat, I hope you and Olivia get along on your way to your morning Tactics and Combat courses." I shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah, sure," I said. We were... actually running a little late and should probably have arrived twenty minutes ago if we wanted to be there on time. "Let''s head out, then?" I asked. "Yeah!" Lucy said. I grinned, then bent down to give her cheek a rather chaste kiss. "Stay safe. If anyone gives you trouble, shoot them first and don''t let anyone ask questions." She rolled her eyes, not noticing the VP''s constant smile turning nervous. "I''ll do my best. I can''t imagine culinary classes are that dangerous. Right Ethan?" The boy started at being addressed so suddenly. Then Lucy was flouncing along and he had to catch up. "So, did you grow up on campus or have you just been going here for like, elementary and high school? How''s it been treating you? Oh, and do you do any sports? You look like the sort." And she was off. Unless the school chose real carefully, she''d have that moron eating out of her hand by the time they reached class and waiting on her hand and foot by the end of the week. "Olivia, right?" I asked the girl. At her nod, I smiled back, then gave the VP a sloppy salute. "See you around, then." "Have a good lesson," he replied. Olivia returned my smile, then gestured to the side. "It''s right this way, Miss Stray Cat. May I call you that?" "Sure," I said. "But just Cat''s fine too. It''s what everyone calls me," I said. She nodded. "Thank you! Of course, call me Olivia! The Miss this, and Mister that, it''s all kind of formal. CIAL appreciates the opportunity to keep old traditions going, but it''s also a multicultural space, where students are free to express themselves and grow into their own." "Uh-huh," I said, not letting my emotions show. "Tell me more." "I''d love to! CIAL is one of the more prominent ivy-league establishments in the world, but it''s not just known for its educational and academic excellence, it''s a place for culture and art to flourish," Olivia continued. "Wow," I said, flatly. "You know, I think once you graduate, some corp is gonna be real happy to have you." If everyone here was like this chick, I was getting back in my ship and fucking right off. *** Chapter Seven - Where Rules Bend to Power Chapter Seven - Where Rules Bend to Power "The biggest detriment to a proper, rigid school system where education is standardized to the degree we wish it to be, are teachers that refuse to comply with our standards." --CIAL board meeting, 2051 *** Olivia seemed to go quiet after a while of walking through the campus. I noticed that once we were away from the Bastion, the number of stares I was getting decreased pretty sharply. I guess I was sorta fitting in, what with the ridiculous uniform and all that. Still, I was pretty sure I''d never fit in fully. There was just this feeling in the air as I walked past yet another group of students. Actually, group was putting it lightly. The people I saw here were usually on their own. Some of them were moving in pairs, or in little cliques, but more often than not they were alone, and from the look in their eyes, they were alone in their headspace too. I wasn''t sure what to make of that, but I decided to file it away for later. Maybe it was just too early in the morning for most of these folk, but people where I was from generally tried not to be caught out in the open alone like this. It was asking for trouble. "So, where''s this Combat and Tactics class anyway?" I asked. "Just this way," Olivia said. "It''s in one of the main gymnasium buildings. CIAL has several alumni who are Olympic athletes, and it has professional college teams in hockey, volleyball, American football, soccer, several esports, drone racing, and we have one of the largest pickleball teams in North America!" I sighed. "Okay, that''s nice," I said. "You know, you don''t need to sound so much like an advertisement." Olivia glanced at me from the corner of her eyes. "I''m just doing my part to highlight the values of the school I love and cherish so much," she said with the perkiness of someone who''d just taken a bite into a happy pill. "Uh-huh," I said. I couldn''t say she was a bad guide, however, because we made it to our destination soon enough. The gymnasium building was a rather large one, with a curved roof covered in solar panels between large windows and a front that opened into a large lobby space with free seating and a concession stand to the side. It reminded me more of a mini sports arena than the kind of gym someone might go to lift heavy things and put them back down. "Students entering a CIAL facility need to approach the door-side scanner," Olivia said as she walked us up to the main doors. There was a blocky black thing next to it. "By scanning the scanner here with your CIAL student app on your augs, you can confirm that you''re allowed within a space and unlock the auto-locking doors." "Okay," I said. Pretty normal feeling level of security, I supposed. "Ah, have you subscribed to the app yet? It''s a quick and easy process, most of the questions aren''t intrusive at all. I''m afraid that I can only open the door for myself." I stared at her, one eyebrow raised, then looked at the scanner again. There was one of those QR code things on it, and starring had my augs pop open a prompt. Want In? Use your CIAL-Pass Student eID to enter now! CLICK HERE to download the app now! I clicked, out of curiosity, and was immediately frustrated when it opened up a seven-page questionnaire that started with questions about my date of birth and social security number and address, and seemed to end with questions about the number of hours I slept per night. In the middle were some places to attach files, from recently taken pictures of myself, to my medical records. "Fuck that," I said. "Myalis, can you fuck this thing up?" I could, easily, but I feel like you wouldn''t actually want me to crash the entire thing. I rolled my eyes. "Can you just get me in?" I asked. "Please? And maybe help Lucy." Oh, I helped her already. She asked nicely to begin with. I didn''t even have to tease her into being polite. Sometimes I wonder if I picked the wrong idiot. "Hey, who''re you calling an idiot?" I asked. Olivia stared at me, clearly not ready for a samurai arguing with the ghostly AI in their head. I have more thoughts in a minute than your entire species has in a year. It''s all relative, Catherine. Don''t worry, I still like you. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. I was about to grumble some more, but the door shifted open in front of me, and I decided to take the win where I could. Olivia waited outside for the door to close before it reopened for her, then she caught up and gestured ahead. "Right this way," she said. "I think you''ll be impressed. Our teachers for this lesson all have impressive pedigrees." "Teachers, plural?" I asked. Olivia answered. "The primary teacher will be able to explain things better, I think." She led me over to a pair of double doors at the back of the lobby, then down a short corridor until, finally, we entered a classroom... of sorts. The room has a few rows of seats and small uncomfortable tables that looked like they were meant to fold into the floor. The rest of the room had that kind of bouncy-looking flooring that I''d usually seen in like, indoor basketball courses, but without any sort of markings on it. The kind of flooring that made loud squeaks if you stopped on it suddenly. The seats were mostly filled, and I got my first look at the other students taking the class. There was definitely a male skew to things. Of the almost thirty others, at least twenty were guys. The rest were women, or people whose gender I couldn''t guess at with a glance. The age was a little older than I expected. It looked like Olivia and I would be on the younger side, because while only a few of the folk here look like they were older, in their forties and the like, the rest seemed to be in their later twenties or early thirties at least. Two men in different uniforms were talking at the front of the class. When the older of the two saw us entering, he patted his buddy on the shoulder, then walked over. "Thank you, Miss Bennet," he said. "I''ll take it from here." "Of course, Professor Rogers," Olivia said. She smiled at me, then walked up towards the front of the class where a pair of seats had been left open. "Hey," I said to the prof. "You''re one of the teachers, then?" "I am," he said with a nod. "Professor Rogers, formerly a captain of the US Armed forces, then a private military contractor for twenty years." The dude looked like he was in his mid fifties or so, but he was still fit, even if he had a bit of a gut. "Alright," I said. "I''m Stray Cat, but folks just call me Cat." "Good," he said. "I wanted to talk before class started. The school is making a lot of exceptions to have you here. Personally, I''m not fond of that. It''s disruptive. At the same time, I''ve had a long enough career that I know that sometimes breaking patterns is exactly the right thing to do." "Alright," I said. "I get what you''re saying. I''m not even sure I''ll be sticking around." He nodded. "I''ve done what I can to cut out anything from my course that I thought might be superfluous. There''s a lot that we emphasize that won''t apply to a samurai. An entire module of the class is about chains of command and working under the auspice of an incapable superior, for example. Or handling situations where logistics have fallen, or situations where current armaments are insufficient." I nodded slowly. Yeah I could see why he thought none of that would apply to a samurai. I could kinda see how it might but then I wouldn''t want to waste an afternoon on a very niche scenario. "A lot of problems can be solved when you can summon a nuke with one sentence," I said. One of his eyebrows perked up at that, but he nodded, conceding the point. "I think you see what I meant. If there''s any time where a course feels like it''s covering something unnecessary, please approach me after class and we''ll skip ahead." "What about the rest?" I asked with a gesture to the other students. "Can''t imagine them being happy about it." "They''ll cover it with their homework, or additional classes. As I said, the school is making a lot of concessions to make this as smooth as possible." "Damn," I said. He nodded. "Find a seat, if you would. Class will start in a couple of minutes. Again, we can talk afterwards to make sure things are up to your expectations." "Alright, thanks Prof," I said. He chuckled. "I''ve had my ass saved by some samurai a time or two. I''d like to think of this as returning the favour, in a small way." *** Chapter Eight - Cat Skips the Ethics Module Chapter Eight - Cat Skips the Ethics Module "I think it''s high time that we acknowledge that much of our educational system is dedicated to teaching things that have no real-world importance, purely for the sake of indoctrinating our youth! What use does a scientist or future businessman have in Ethics? It''s nothing but an excuse for the intolerant leftist to fill the minds of our youth with their twisted ideals!" --Jim Reeds, the ''Real Man Podcast'' 2029 *** Professor Rogers stepped up to the front of the class, then narrowed his eyes as he looked across all of the students. In the meantime, I moved to the very back and smacked the floor with the tip of my shoe. The desks were meant to fold in and out of the floor, along with the chairs. Obviously so that the floorspace could be used for other shit later on. There was a seat open for me next to Olivia way out at the front, and I sure as shit wasn''t going to be sitting there. The Professor cleared his throat. "We''ll be starting now," he said. "Yeah yeah," I muttered before bending down. Oh. There was a little clasp thing. Yeah, that made sense. I pulled on it, then the seat and desk unfolded out of the floor all nice and easy like. "I don''t think we''re supposed to add seats," some guy said. "First rule of combat class," I shot back. "Don''t do the expected thing." Then I sat my ass down and gestured to the professor. "Present." He breathed out of his nose in what might have been a laugh, but it was also perfectly deniable. "Good. Now that everyone is seated. Let''s begin. This is a special class of Combat and Tactics. We will be covering some material not usually covered, skipping some that is, and handing out far more homework than usual. If you''ve signed up for this class in particular, then you know what''s going on." He gestured, and the digital blackboard behind him lit up with a sort of powerpoint presentation. "We''re skipping the history modules, the legalities of armed engagement module, and the ethics module. Instead, our first three weeks, which are usually split between the above, will be dedicated to the other two modules that we usually cover." Two of the remaining modules on the list were highlighted. "Basic battlefield tactics, and physical combat. This first lesson will be on the former. Tomorrow''s class will be on the latter. Which means that when you come into class tomorrow, please bring the appropriate clothing and safety equipment. For those of you who have chosen to wear glasses, bring safety goggles. In fact, bring those anyway even if they''re not on the list, there''s always someone that gets an aug poked." One of the students raised a hand by the front, and Rogers pointed to him. "Will we be covering any martial art in particular?" "The primary art taught alongside this class is Keep Safe, the corporate martial art. Obviously, that art has areas where most people find it deficient, we''ll be supplementing that with grappling, traditional wrestling, boxing, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and some Krav Maga. Does that answer your question?" "Yes sir," the student said. I felt a nervous pit in my stomach at that. Martial arts? I''d swung a punch or two in my day, and I wasn''t exactly unfit. I had protein in my diet and everything nowadays. But against someone with formal training? Yeah, I was gonna be swallowing my teeth. I eyed the students. It was hard to tell, from behind, but I''d safely say that the average in this room skewed towards the more fit side of the spectrum. Some of the dudes looked like they were seven feet tall and able to wrestle a train. I opened my Aug app and added a note to myself for later. ''Get martial arts training thing.'' There, that would do for now. "Let''s begin with our primary focus for this semester, then," Roger said. "Basic battlefield tactics." Reaching over to the side of a desk, he pulled out a thin book. It wasn''t very impressive to look at. The cover was stained and the whole thing looked waterlogged. "Sun Tzu said that all warfare is based on deception. He was and is correct. Moving into the 21st century, humanity came face-to-face with an enemy that wasn''t other humans." The slide behind him changed, showing pictures of several antithesis, charging in the direction of the camera man. It had a very renaissance feel to it, the way they were all laid out to fill the frame. "The lessons in combat and warfare that we learned previously and honed over hundreds of years were tested, and surprisingly, they were not found wanting. Our equipment needed to be changed and our attitudes adjusted, but the fundamentals of warfare remain the same. That is, that every war can be won before the first bullet is fired. Sun Tzu." Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The screen flicked over to a list of numbered quotes. 1 - All warfare is based on deception 2 - Know thy enemy and know thyself 3 - Subdue the enemy without fighting "Take these down, if you''re the note-taking type," Rogers said. "All warfare is based on deception. If your enemy, be they the antithesis, another nation, a rival corporation, or rebelling workforce, knows what you''re doing, then you''re already losing. In the corporate world, that means misinformation campaigns, corporate espionage, cyberwarfare, and press manipulation. In a war against the plants, it means having functional advanced warning systems and troops ready for deployment." The first quote expanded, taking up the top of the powerpoint. All warfare is based on deception. "We often paint our enemies as stupid and inefficient. They are both a menace and idiotic. A threat, and someone you can laugh at. Humans are good at holding two contradictory ideas as if they are self-evident. Most of the time, we don''t even realize it. If you approach a tactical situation with that kind of dichotomy in your knowledge, then you''re giving your foe a massive advantage. Deception means fooling your adversary. Deceptive warfare means knowing when you are being fooled, most of all by your own preconceptions." He reached up and the slide changed again. "We''ll be covering three examples today, and more will be slid into your assigned reading. The first is ancient history. Operation Mincemeat, conducted in 1943. During World War II, the British needed to convince Nazi Germany that they were invading Greece and Sardinia instead of their actual target¡ªSicily. So what did they do? They took a dead man, dressed him up as a British officer, and loaded him with fake invasion plans. Then they dropped him in the water near Spain, where they knew the Germans would find him. The Nazis bought it. They shifted their defenses away from Sicily, sent reinforcements to the wrong locations, and left the real invasion site vulnerable. One dead body. One forged document. Thousands of lives saved. A whole war shifted. Obviously, this wasn''t the only plan similar to this. Often-times in war, you need to take a scattershot approach, attempt to deceive your enemy in several ways." Another slide clicked into place. "The Black Eye War of 2041 was a competition war between Pondsmith Biotech and Arneson Cybernetics. PB was about to launch a new model of eye-based augs and Arneson was going to launch their own. The Arneson devices were about three years ahead of the curve thanks to an alliance with a local samurai who allowed them to reverse-engineer an implant." Rogers nodded to a student who''d raise their hand. "Is that an actual war?" "Do you mean, were nations fighting? If so, no. Do you mean to ask if principles of warfare were used, then yes. People died, so I''d like to think it counts. The Black Eye War happened over the course of six months. Pondsmith''s intelligence bureau heard about the Arneson Cybernetics''s new eye and they launched a coordinated attack in three phases. First they hacked the Pondsmith supply chain, creating subtle reports about a defect in the product. Then they leaked the news to the public and threw up a fuss about it in the media. Finally, on Black Friday, when the new implants were both launching, they crashed Arneson''s stock with a seventeen trillion credit dump. It almost bankrupted Pondsmith to pull that off." "Did it work?" someone asked. "Arneson''s stock value dropped by 62% overnight. Pondsmith acquired the company three months later, then sold the non-defective stock out for a premium. The models they sold became the most commonly used eye-aug in North America for half a decade." Roger switched slides. "Now, let''s get into the big example. The 2048 Siege of Atlanta. One of the biggest successful pushbacks against an active incursion in our history. We''re going to go over this one day-by-day, and I''m going to be highlighting how the commanders in charge--that is, an army general, a PMC commander, and a pair of local samurai--managed to actively deceive the antithesis and lay out a trap that resulted in a clean-slate incursion wipe in only four days." I sat up in my seat. I hadn''t even realized that I was leaning forwards. Shit... maybe some folks were onto something with this learning crap. *** Interlude Lucy - School Days Part Two Interlude Lucy - School Days Part Two The introductory class was really... okay? Lucy felt, from the very start, as if she didn''t quite belong. For one, she was definitely on the younger side. Not by that much, but she''d estimate the average age to hover around the mid-twenties, and judging by the looks of the people in her class, they were definitely middle-class sorts. There was also a lot of stuff that the teacher assumes she knew already. Fortunately, while the class promised to be hands-on eventually, the opening class was pure technical knowledge. Some of it covered the equipment they would be using, and then the latter half of the class was a summary of the lesson plan for the year. She made note of anything that came up that she wasn''t aware of. A quick search online wasn''t going to plug every gap in her knowledge, but it would be better than coming in entirely blind. In any case, the class finished and according to her new best pal Ethan-the-ever-smiling Cat''s own class wasn''t going to finish for another hour. Which meant she had time. And time was opportunity, if she was willing to abuse a few things, like the school''s willingness to put up with her shit. Lucy grinned when the teacher slipped out of the classroom before anyone else had time to leave. "Hey!" she called out, her voice pitched up to catch people''s attention. "Does anyone here know how to bake cupcakes? Or like, make cookies?" That earned her a few looks, but there was someone brave enough to answer in the bunch. An older guy, maybe in his mid-thirties or so, with a well-trimmed beard and a bit of a dad bod. "I know a thing or two about baking," he said. "Miss Leblanc?" Ethan asked. The name sent a thrill down her spine. Sure, she''d initially done it to tease Cat, and it worked even better than she expected, but hearing it again now and then made the happy chemicals in her brain do a little dance. "I have a small plan, and I was wondering if anyone here would be willing to help? There''s a cool samurai mech carrier parked out by the admin building, and I think a bunch of people are worried about it. I was thinking we could help people calm down, maybe set up a sort of photo-taking thing with one of the mechs? And that''d be a lot cooler if we had free food to hand out!" "Free food?" another student asked. "I''m sure the school wouldn''t mind us... grabbing a few supplies. I saw these super cute cupcakes the other day, with little cat ears on them! It looked easy to make!" "I don''t know if we have the school''s permission for that," Ethan said with a winning--if somewhat condescending--smile. "Perfect!" Lucy snapped. "Ethan, go get permission. You, uh, what''s your name?" "Aiden Baxter," the cupcake guy said. "Good! Aiden, you''re in charge of the cupcakes. Anyone here know how to make cookies?" Lucy asked. A woman nearby snorted. Lucy hadn''t spent the entire class just listening to the teacher''s lecture. She''d been eyeing the others as well. A few had given her looks but it was hard to do anything with your judgmentalism when in the middle of class. This woman was also one of the older students, probably in her later twenties, and she''s given off the vibes that the class was beneath her the whole time. "Thanks for volunteering!" Lucy said. "So, we should aim for a couple of hundred cookies and maybe half as many cupcakes... muffins? I''m not sure what the difference is. Do we have pre-made frosting, or should we make our own?" "A-are we really doing this?" someone asked. Lucy paused, and so did just about everyone else. This was the risky part. Once people started to act, the momentum would keep them going, even if they suspected that they might regret it, but at the moment that momentum didn''t exist yet. "If you have something real important to get to, then yeah, you''d probably be best to run along. But... I mean, this is gonna be fun! Plus we get to snub the school a bit which is always funny. But best of all, we get to help a samurai. I''m pretty sure Stray Cat is actually super worried about her image, and having her big scary mech presented with cookies and cupcakes kinda makes it seem... you know, friendly and nice?" Lucy smiled, because that lie was bold-faced bullshit. Cat had never cared much for people''s opinions. It was kinda hot, actually, the way she''d strut around with confidence up to her one eyeball, and becoming a samurai had only helped. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "That does sound kinda badass," one of the younger guys said. "Plus, free cookies. And free training early." Lucy clapped her hands together, the sound like a gunshot because she''d been practicing her mom-clap for years. "Okay! Let''s get those ovens preheated. "Aiden, can you set things out and make sure everyone''s working on something?" "Sure, I can try," the man said with a nod. "And... wait, what''s your name again?" Lucy asked the other woman she''d singled out. "Giselle," she said. Lucy nodded sharply. "Let''s get those cookies started?" Bags were dropped down next to desks, and people actually started to move, though it was with a bit of hesitation. Ethan looked like he wanted to tell people to drop the whole thing, but Lucy levelled her best, most winsome smile at him. "Better get the VP on the same page as us, or he might be a little surprised!" Lucy said. Ethan jumped. "Oh, uh, yes, right." "And try to find tables too! I bet there''s some somewhere!" she called after his back. Now that that was handled... Lucy turned back to the class, dialed down her smile about 20%, and walked over to the first spot that looked like it had trouble brewing. A few friendly suggestions were enough to get them moving in the right direction, but the next issue had her change her stance and approached things with the final say. The students would probably be a little insulted if they knew just how much easier they were to manipulate than a bunch of unruly orphans. Lucy didn''t get too much work done herself. She helped a bit by pouring some batter into cupcake molds, and she wandered around with a garbage bag picking up after the messier students, but her job was mostly managerial. Cookies only needed fifteen minutes of baking. Cupcakes needed closer to twenty-five. That didn''t include any cool-down time that they needed before they could apply any frosting. Lucy tried her hand at making a few cookies look like little cat heads, but they looked... kind of like cats born with significant and serious birth defects. At least hers stood out amongst the much better, more standardized work the others on frosting duty could manage, even if it wasn''t in a great way. Within an hour and a half, they had a few platters filled with baked goods. Something like two hundred cupcakes and twice as many cookies. Mostly because they had ransacked the kitchen''s supplies and used all of the many ovens all at once. "Well, that was productive," Lucy said with a satisfied nod. Which is about when the Vice Principal walked in along with half a dozen members of security. The entire room froze, and Lucy could recognize that wide-eyed look of guilt anywhere. These people hadn''t ever learned how to look impassive and calm in the face of an authority figure, which was the equivalent of spilling blood in front of a hungry shark. "Oh good!" Lucy said. She scooped up a cupcake, walked up to the Vice Principal, and pushed it into his hand. "Try this out, they''re real good! Did Ethan go off to find tables for us?" "Tables?" he asked. "Well, we''re not going to stand there with handfuls of cookies, that''d be unsanitary." "I''m... afraid that the school requires certain permissions before--" "It''s fine," Lucy said. She smiled. "It''s fine. Now! Big guys! If you help us carry all of these over to the mech, we''ll give you a cookie each! How''s that sound?" she winked at the nearest security guy who seemed taken aback for a moment. The Vice Principal hesitated, but Lucy was already moving. Momentum and all that. It was important. "I suppose we have tables in storage," he finally said before looking at the cupcake. It had a little cat face on it, with fondant ears and a cute little smile. He took a tentative bite. "Perfect!" Lucy said. "Alright, everyone, grab a platter! Are there covers for these? Aiden, did you happen to see if there were, like, spare napkin packs around? People are definitely gonna need those. Come on, cooking class! Represent!" Lucy grinned. She was quite certain that Cat wasn''t having half as much fun as she was. *** SCS Fan Art Contest - Winners! A big thank you to everyone who participated in this month''s Stray Cat Strut Fanart Contest! The creativity and talent on display is incredible, and it''s always exciting to see how different artists bring their own interpretations of the world to life! Now, let''s get to the winners! SCS Art Category Cat and the Nyanzerfaust, by NiameScrawls! Niame (@niamescrawls.ca) An insane bit of art! Cat just chilling on her mech is so heckin'' cool! Coming in second place... Cat! by, John Cloud *** SCS Fanfic Art If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. PsyCo Famely, by Lividia! This one is neat, we''ve got like... a heap of references and characters from a bunch of the best fanfic in our community all in one place! Zoom in, there''s a lot of details to catch! *** AI Art Category Black Gem, by Alia Fata Morgana: Reflections [A SCS Fanfiction] | Royal Road Okay, so, uh, technically this one might not have been made by an AI, but it IS art of an AI? I laughed, and decided to give it the win. For reference, this art is of this quote by Myalis "Technically, I''m more of a hyper-dense carbon wafer. But I am somewhat gem-like, so I''ll accept the compliment with the grace it was given." And that''s all! Thank you to everyone who participated! And a special shout to the WackyWombat who helped keep things organized! Chapter Nine - Sweet Schemes Are Made of This Chapter Nine - Sweet Schemes Are Made of This "Cringe." --the President of the United States, 2028 *** Class let up, and I took my sweet time making my way out. The prof, Rogers, actually came up to me and asked me if the lesson was to my liking and... yeah, it kind of was. It was a bit more philosophy over more practical shit, but I could see how that kind of way of thinking might actually apply to a battlefield. "I liked it," I said. "Not sure I''d want day-after-day of philosophy, though." "That''s fine," he said. "We''ll likely be alternating between more philosophical approaches to tactics, actual physical education classes which will eventually include live combat simulation, and also some historical study, both of more modern battles and of some older ones from centuries prior." He smiled, a little smugly. "It''s rare to find someone who isn''t interested in history when you''re looking at the most interesting parts of it." "The big battles, you mean?" I asked. "Exactly," he said with a nod. "Something about an ancient siege stirs the blood." I decided that I liked Professor Rogers. He knew what good, sensible people liked. "If you want, we could dissect some of the battles you were in," he offered. "It could be interesting, especially since we have you here to corroborate some of the tactical choices made moment-by-moment." I decided that I disliked Professor Rogers. He didn''t know what was good for him. "Nah, I''d rather not. I''m not a tactical genius and I''d rather, uh, study better cases than my own," I said. "Anyway, I''mma head on out. See you around." I scooted on out of there soon after. Almost as soon as I was out of the class, I felt my unfortunate shadow slot into place next to me. Olivia, with her supplies hugged close to her chest. "Did you enjoy your first class at CIAL?" she asked. "Uh-huh," I said. "One sec, I need to text someone." I texted Lucy a quick ''Where''s your ?? at?'' and her reply was a quick eye roll, followed by saying she was at the mecha carrier, showing off the MEOW. The fat armoured mech which should have been sitting pretty inside of the Bastion. She didn''t say who she was even showing it off to to begin with. It was probably telling that I knew that Lucy was up to something from a one-line exchange and that had me walking a bit faster. Olivia started to jog to keep up, then I started to run, and I could hear her starting to pant as she kept up. "Miss... Cat, why are we running?" "My girlfriend was left unsupervised with weapons of mass destruction again," I said. "There''s a very real chance that she''s trying to start a cult. Again." "Again?" Olivia asked. "Wait, cults are against school rules unless sanctioned beforehand!" I frowned and slowed my run down to a calmer jog. I probably didn''t need to rush that much. "Olivia, you know that the rules are made up and laws don''t matter, right? They''re like, some autistic guy''s idea of writing down all of the little shit society does to not be a bag of dicks, but written down. Then a thousand years go by and now everyone thinks that words on paper are like, holy and unbreakable or something. But you can punch a cop. They have noses and everything, and they''re usually just standing there." Olivia''s mouth worked, and I suspected that I broke her a little because it took her a while to reply. "The samurai truly have an interesting view on how society functions," Olivia said. I shook my head. This was the problem with talking to folks stuck in their ways. You could point out the truth to them but the bit of their brain primed to make up excuses was faster than the one made for realizing they were dead wrong. She''d probably grow out of it, one day. Like someone growing out of being religious or something. Or she wouldn''t, and she''d cling to it to the end. I didn''t really care either way, because she wasn''t pissing in my cereal. We made it across the campus in good-enough time, but it was clear as we were nearing the big plaza in the middle that there was some shit going down. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. People were moving centre-wards more than away, and the closer we came, the more people were moving in that direction. What was just a few dozen was a few hundred before long. For some reason a lot of people were posing with cookies? Making silly faces while their friends looked at them in that way that came with using one''s augs to take a picture. Some had smartphones out too, or even actual digital cameras. The plaza itself was full. There was a crowd of people around the Bastion. Fortunately not right up against it, because the PD guns weren''t going off, but they were close enough that it was clear they weren''t worried. Some white fold-out tables were set up as barriers, and it looked like they had something on them recently. There was a weird, festive feeling to the place. It reminded me of how some mega buildings would sometimes suddenly throw a big party for no apparent reason and it would get out of hand. Someone''s birthday bash turning into a whole-building thing as people let off steam. Lucy was probably to blame for this. I found her standing next to my mech, which was in turn standing outside of its bay, chest puffed out and holding itself in a big, tough-guy kind of stance. The MEOW was meant to take a shitload of abuse and give some back with the turreted cannon on its back. Right now, it looked like it was being used as a prop for people to take selfies next to. All the while, Lucy was standing a few metres away, grinning like the kitten that had stuffed its face in the cream. Then she saw me through the crowd, somehow picking me out despite there being a hundred others around, and if anything, her grin only grew smug-er. "How did you pilot the mech out of its bay?" I asked as I came up to her and casually wrapped my arms around her waist. Lucy laughed. "It piloted itself," she said. "I just had to ask nicely." "Uh-huh," I said. "And is there someone you forgot to ask, while you were asking nicely?" "Hmm?" Lucy hummed. She tilted her head to the side cutely and made a big show of thinking about it. "Maybe? Can''t have been someone too important." "Oh?" I asked as I squeezed her a little closer. "Not important, am I?" Lucy giggled, and the sound made my heart flutter. "Sorry! I should probably have asked, but Myalis offered and I figured it wasn''t a big deal? Are you upset?" "Not really," I said. It wasn''t like I was purposefully keeping the MEOW hidden or anything. "But ask anyway, next time you do something like this, just in case? Speaking of... what is this?" "Oh! Right! I saved one for you!" Lucy squirmed out of my hug and ran into the Bastion where she picked something up just inside. She returned with a small tupperware container that she opened to reveal... a spectacularly ugly cat-shaped cupcake next to a cookie with... smudged frosting on it. "They''re both kitty shaped!" "Are they?" I asked. "Hey! I worked hard on them," she protested. "I subhorned my cooking class and convinced them to bake stuff to give away. Then we did a whole... meet and greet kind of thing? But like, way less official. People took pics with the MEOW and have been hanging out here for like, the past hour." "Alright," I said. "But why?" "Eh, mostly I wanted to see how quickly I could get the class on my side," Lucy said with a grin. "Plus it''s really pissing off the school, which I think is funny because isn''t this exactly the kind of thing they wanted? Just without forms filled in triplicate first." "They''re going to label you as a troublemaker," I said. "Oh no," Lucy replied with the fakest gasp. "Whatever shall I do? Will I have to be punished? I''m not sure if I''m ready for that part of the school girl experience." "I don''t think it counts if you''re enjoying it," I said. "Do you think we can head out, or do you need more time to scheme?" Lucy considered it, then pushed the box closer. "Give me until you''re done with these? I''ve got to shake a few hands and play stupid in front of a few people, then we can head out!" Well, if I was getting free food out of it, I wasn''t going to be inclined to say no. *** Chapter Ten - Fight Like A Cat Chapter Ten - Fight Like A Cat "Modern martial arts can be split, broadly, into three categories. The first is the exercise art. A martial art that focuses in part on self-defence, but also in simply learning how to move your own body with comfort and grace. The second is the combat martial art. Less an art, and more a tool of war. Something to learn as a soldier and mercenary to better kill and fight if other weapons fail. The third is the mystical art. As people become increasingly gullible, even with a plethora of information available to them, more fall into the trapping of mysticism and magic, often disguised as a martial tradition. The first two will keep you healthy and safe, the third will empty your wallet." --Excerpt from ''Break Their Noses'' a 2039 MMA Manual *** How come one afternoon of classes felt more tiring than a whole day of shooting aliens? Actually, that was a flat lie, and a rather big exaggeration. A day spent hunting down antithesis, or holding a wall, was a lot more stressful, but the whole school thing was tiring too, in its own way. "I need a nap," Lucy said as I brought the Bastion in for a gentle landing in the parking garage. "Urgh, but the kittens need to be checked on. They had no one supervising them all morning." "Can''t be that bad," I said. "Daniel was here, and I told Junior to keep an eye open," Lucy said. "And there''s easy food in the fridge. They won''t have starved, but you just know that at least two of them started a fight or something while we were gone." "Yeah," I said. I let out a yawn and relaxed back into the pilot''s seat. "Should we head out and check on them?" I didn''t really have the energy to stand up, at the moment. Lucy grunted, then pulled herself up to standing with what looked like monumental effort. She leaned in over the pilot''s seat and gave me a kiss. "I''ll do it," she said. "Kinda asked for this." "Love you," I said. Lucy grinned, then slipped out of the cabin. I watched her go for a bit, then let out a sigh. If I was reasonable, I''d give myself a kick in the ass and get going. It wouldn''t take that much effort, really. Then I could sort through what needed sorting, get some lunch in me--because a cupcake and a cookie wasn''t a proper meal--and then see about some things. But at the moment I was mostly feeling lazy. Did you enjoy the day? "Hm? You know what? Yeah. The class was pretty... well, educational, I guess. But it was fun, overall. I''m not sure if I''ll be into this kind of thing in the long run, but for now it''s kinda neat. I can even see it being genuinely useful next time I have to deal with the antithesis. Tactics and shit. My, uh, strategies so far have mostly involved throwing shit at the wall, but that stuff about deception today? That was more refined than what I''m used to pulling." I''m glad to hear it. It might not always seem that way--mostly because teasing you is too amusing--but I do actually believe that you have some potential. It would be a shame to see it all go to waste. "Yeah," I said before I reached up and scratched at my nose. "So, uh. Hey, I''ve got that quick-mind upload wreath thing around somewhere, right?" You do. I couldn''t remember where I''d dropped it off, but it was this thing that let me download shit straight into my brain. So far I''d mostly used it to download lessons on piloting my mechs, and those had sure as shit turned out to be handy. "So, next class is physical combat stuff, and if I go out there the way I am, I''m gonna look like a fucking clown. I don''t know jack shit about like, proper martial arts. I can swing a punch like the next mean bitch, but that''s about it." I see. Yes, there are some neuro-download lessons that encompass various martial arts. I would advise against learning more than one at the moment. In fact, learning more than one in a relatively short period might be detrimental. "Detrimental how?" I asked. Most martial arts teach you how to move beyond just how to throw mean bitch punches. This can include anything from how to walk to how to position yourself during your every day so that you''re more ready to move into a combat-ready state. Unfortunately, as various martial arts focus on different movesets, learning multiple at the same time can lead you to having conflicting new instincts with regards to how to stand, sit, walk and generally carry out your day. "Yeah, okay, I can kinda see how that would work out. Or wouldn''t work out, as the case may be. I don''t want to be tripping over my feet and bleeding from the nose at the same time." This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. You wouldn''t have to worry about the latter. This is safe. I''m merely suggesting that you use this technology at a reasonable pace. We don''t need you straining what sanity you have. I nodded along. That sounded reasonable enough to me. "So, what I''m looking for is... honestly? Something that''ll let me kick ass." A lot of the martial arts I could give you access to would allow you to kick a number of asses, however, more often than not a martial art is a multiplicative added on top of the baseline for ass-kicking that is a person''s physicality. "What''s that mean?" I asked. It means... imagine two people. One of them is short, in poor health, very young, and has no physical conditioning. They have never exercised before. The other is tall, fit, has a balanced and careful diet and is at their peak age for physical labour. Given the same exact martial knowledge, who would fare better in combat. "Assuming all the rest is the same, tall and buff," I said. "Obviously. And I''m guessing what you''re saying is that I can only kick as many asses as my body can handle?" More or less. Using the same example, if you were to give the first person top-tier martial training and the other no training at all, the untrained but fit individual would still likely come out on top of any given fight, but their chances would be lowered somewhat. "Okay," I said. "So maybe I lower my bar down from being able to kick everyone in my classes ass to just being... not-embarassing?" A far more achievable, if still difficult, bar to aim for. "You''re saying I''m still going to embarrass myself?" I asked. There aren''t enough Antithesis in the system to earn the points necessary to prevent such. I rolled my eyes. Cheeky bitch. "Alright, let''s talk options." Very few of your catalogues have martials arts built into them, but there is one. Your Sunwatcher Technologies catalogue is broad enough to feature a few. Not that you couldn''t simply buy an inexpensive catalogue aimed at learning a single martial art. A very narrow catalogue aimed at learning a specific human martial art would be relatively inexpensive. "You mean I could just download kung-fu for cheap?" I asked. Yes. Exactly. Real tempting, actually. "What do you think would be suitable for me, though?" I asked. I''d suggest picking one of two directions. Either a broad, mixed-martial art that covers a range of combat styles and situations, or a modern martial art designed for anti-antithesis combat. The kind of martial art taught to those fighting lower-tier Antithesis. If you''re aiming for the latter, then you could choose some Sunwatcher martial arts as well. "Wouldn''t their martial arts have, uh, compatibility issues?" I asked. A few. I''d adjust the art on the fly to make it work. No worries. The advantage being, of course, that none of the students you train with will be aware of your style and its broad moveset. "That is a pretty big advantage, I''ll bet." And, the martial art will carry over to tailed-combat in your mechs. It''s as suitable to bipedal combat as it is to quadruped. Of course, you''ll still have to pick an art. "Isn''t Sunwatcher... the art?" I asked. Do you think that every non-human race is a monolith? The history of the Sunwatchers stretches further back than humanity''s by millenia. They have a much broader culture with a longer written history to pull from. "Alright, fair enough," I said. "So is humanity like... a little baby culture?" The littlest, babiest of them. "Thanks," I said. "Okay, fine. How many are we talking about here?" Six thousand complete martial arts. Do you want me to narrow that list down for you? "I think I''d like that, yeah," I said. "Get me something flashy but effective." That''s contradictory. "Look, if it doesn''t look intimidating, then what even is the point?" I asked. I think I have something, then. The Moonlight Claw arts. It''ll be difficult on your flesh hand, but still doable, especially if you wear a glove. Quite flashy, and very effective. I nodded along. I was liking the sound of that. "Cool! So... where did I put that wreath anyway? I haven''t the faintest clue where I left it, but I swear I saw it recently." There was an electronic sigh in my ear. I''ll guide you to it. Myalis truly was the best, some of the time. Was this what having a mom was like? *** Chapter Eleven - A Duel at Dawn Chapter Eleven - A Duel at Dawn "Breakfast is the mmmmmost immmmportant mmmeal of the day! Mmmmraw! Touch mmmine and you''re a dead mmmmotherfucker!" --Marvin the Marmoset, Marmo-Os mascot, 2054 *** "Cat! Nose stole my spatula and won''t give it back!" Lucy called out from the kitchen. I blinked, trying to process all of that. It was... seven forty in the morning, which meant it was way too early to deal with anything strenuous. Last night had had me laying on our bed, downloading a few terabytes of kung fu straight into my brain, and at the moment I was suffering the morning-after consequences of that. Basically, I felt like I was dizzy, without being dizzy. I blinked as Nose came running out of the kitchen, spatula held proudly before him like some sort of trophy. The little shit was grinning the grin of a victor. So I swept in low, spinning my hips around and bending one knee so that my centre of gravity lowered even as my leg shifted outwards. I held back at the end, slowing down so that my low kick was more like a low bump that caught Nose''s shin just hard enough to send him flying. Then, since I was low already, I reached around and caught him around the torso, one arm grabbing him around the front, the other snacking through his arms to lock him in place. I landed on my shoulder, with the little shit stuck in a headlock. "Gotcha, bitch!" I said. "No!" Nose shouted, then he started to squeal like a pig caught in a bear trap. "Lemme go! I don''t want eggs again!" "What are you on about?" I asked as I put my new grappling techniques to good use and kept the little shit locked in place. Eventually I caught him so that I had a hand free, and I was able to pluck the spatula away. "I''m tired of eggs! It''s all Lucy ever makes in the morning!" he whined. "What? Bitch, are you some little rich corpo shit that gets to pick what he eats in the morning? You''re going to eat what Lucy puts on your plate and you''re gonna be happy about it! The secret ingredient is love! The secret spice is my boot up your ass!" Nose squirmed for a while, but he eventually conceded defeat against my superior strength. It was good to put my new martial arts to the test, even if it was just on a precocious little asshole that lived under my roof and who wasn''t happy eating my breakfast. I freed Nose, gave his behind a (not so) firm kick, then plucked the spatula off the floor where it had ended up in our tussle. "Lucky little shit," I griped. "If my heart wasn''t made of gold I''d beat you black and blue!" Nose ran down the corridor, stopped, then took a moment to flash me both middle fingers before he scurried off. Shaking my head, I slipped into the kitchen where I found Lucy hard at work overseeing breakfast. There was toast in the toaster, eggs sizzling on a buttered pan, and a large pot of beans was slowly warming up. "Just toss that in the sink," she said without looking back. "And I''m not making bacon. That shit throws up grease all over, it''s a pain to clean and it''s honestly kind of scary to cook." I tossed the spatula into the sink, then swept in behind Lucy and tipped her back so that I could better plant some kisses along the side of her neck. "Did I tell you that you''re beautiful today?" I asked. "Not yet, but I could stand to hear it a few more times," she said before turning her head to give me a kiss that made me forget everything for a moment. "Ah, go sit down. I don''t want to burn any of this. You can have the first serving, for valiantly saving my spatula. What did Nose want, anyway?" "He said he was tired of eggs," I said. "What? But it''s food!" Lucy said. "We treat these kids too well. We should see if they like a diet that''s nothing but corp chow." "I know!" I said with a shake of my head. I sat down at the table and watched Lucy work while rubbing at the back of my neck. There was a small jack there, connected to all the augs and shit shoved into my brain. It had gotten a little warm. Not uncomfortably so, but... still a little weird feeling. I wasn''t sure I liked the impression that there was something hot inside of my head. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. But the results... I picked up a fork from the table and tossed it up, then I caught it out of the air between thumb and forefinger before flicking it back up. It was weird. My reflexes were fine before, but now it was like... I actually knew how to use my own body? The knowledge was more instinctive than anything else, though. I thought about doing something, and now my body knew the motions it needed to go through to do that thing. There was some brute knowledge there too. How to punch and hit and how to deflect a blow... I think Myalis crammed some biology in my head as well, for good measure. "Here you go," Lucy said as she put a plate in front of me. I jumped a little, having been stuck in my head while still tossing the fork up and around. "You okay?" "Yeah, sorry," I said. "New brain stuff has me feeling a bit off. But I think some running around and doing shit will settle it all down." "Do you have phys-ed in class today?" Lucy asked. "I guess so?" I said. "Is combat training physical ed? It feels like it kind of is, right?" Lucy and I stared at each other, and then she shrugged. "I guess? I don''t think I have anything like that. Today we''re going to be learning how to safely use some of the things in the kitchen, which does sound nice. We have a bunch of things here that I don''t even know what they''re called. Like... there''s a food processor, right? But like, it doesn''t process anything? It''s weird." "I''ll take your word for it," I said as I started to chow down. "Any more plans with regards to taking over the school?" Lucy thought about it. "Nah. Not today. You can''t push too fast with this kind of thing, because then people start to feel like you have an agenda. It''s better to wait for the school to mess up and to ride people''s anger to the top." "Mhm," I said. I opened my schedule and looked at what things were like for the rest of the week. From the looks of things, I have four half-days a week, and that was it. That left me... with a surprisingly large pool of free time. Lucy''s schedule more or less overlapped with mine, only she had a couple more days and a few more half-days sprinkled in. I''d have to go bring her to school and pick her up a few times each week, but that wasn''t so bad. Meh, I''d figure out what to do tomorrow, tomorrow. I finished breakfast in a rush, then watched as the kids came in to eat. Lucy was good with them, all smiles and pats on their heads. She wanted them educated and ready for the world. Something that we just couldn''t do a while ago, but now it felt like the easiest thing in the world. It being easy didn''t mean that I wanted to dismiss it, though. Lucy ate, gave some of the brats some orders that we both knew wouldn''t be followed without one of us there to bully the kids into doing them--shit like washing up only happened under threat of violence--and then we both ran back to our room to get dressed. Twenty minutes later we were in the Bastion, flying back towards the CIAL campus. I noticed that there were more people around when I came in to land. Enough that I was basically forced to set down in the spot marked out for the Bastion or risk landing atop some dumbass who didn''t know to look up. "Alright." Lucy said. "I''m off to class! Oh, hey, if I get a bicycle for getting around with, do you think I can leave it in the Bastion?" "I guess," I said. It wasn''t a terrible idea. "But like... don''t turn my transport into a shed. I don''t want to have to pick through random crap in the middle of a fight." "Promise!" Lucy said. "Love you! See you in a bit!" I got a goodbye kiss, then Lucy took off. We were a bit on the late side. I stepped out of the Bastion and shut it behind me, then took off at a respectable clip towards class. I was joined halfway there by Olivia who was carrying a duffel bag over one shoulder. "I wasn''t sure if you had clothing appropriate for physical exercise, so I brought some extra with me," Olivia said. "It''s all CIAL-marked clothing, from the campus store! So you know it''s got the CIAL seal of quality!" Yeah, I bet. I was both anxious to get started, and anxious to be done with it. *** Chapter Twelve - Survival 101: Dont Be Weak Chapter Twelve - Survival 101: Don''t Be Weak "Run my minions! Sweat for your master! That''s right, a million more push-ups! A million more burpees! Oh-hohohoho!" -Ojou-Sama Sweat School, exercise stream, 2036 *** Class was going down in the same room as last time, only the room itself had changed. The desks were all lowered, and a sort of matted floor was placed atop that half of the room. It was squishy underfoot, but still firm enough to walk on without too much difficulty. It would probably break a fall, a little, but not so much so that crashing onto the floor would be comfortable. The students were gathering to one side, under the watchful eye of Professor Rogers and two teacher''s assistants. They were all dressed in gym shorts and t-shirts, with running shoes on. "The changing rooms are this way," Olivia said as she guided me past the class and to the back, where a tied corridor split. One side had showers, the awkward open sort, the other had a bunch of changing stalls and lockers along one wall with thumb-print locks on them. "Here you go," Olivia said as she handed me a heap of clothes. "There should be everything you need to find a set that fits you in there." "Thanks," I said before slipping into one of the free stalls. They were those shitty ones, where the door only came down to about my knee and the floor was all cold tile. I set down the bag Olivia had given me, then opened it up and started to sort through its contents. There were shirts with the school logo on one breast, which was fine. Shapeless gym shorts of the non-sexy variety which was... yeah, I suppose that was fine too. But the sports bras? That was a little weird. And I was definitely, one-hundred percent not going to wear the granny panties with the school''s logo on the crotch. Bet Olivia would, though. I left the stall feeling a little under-dressed, especially since I wasn''t gonna walk into gym class with my Trenchmaker strapped around my thigh. That''d be a little weird. "Is the uniform comfortable?" Olivia asked. She''d changed into pretty much the same thing, though with a scrunchy keeping her hair out of her face. "Eh, it''s whatever," I said. I dumped my things in one of the lockers, then walked back to the class. It didn''t take long from there for things to start. "Alright everyone," Professor Rogers said. "This is the physical education part of your class. Let me get one thing straight, this isn''t about who can run the fastest mile, or who can do the most pushups. Those are important measurements of your own skill and capabilities, but they''re not what''s important. What''s truly important, is your ability to survive, and your ability to kill." I stood up a little straighter. Yeah, I didn''t want to be tested on my ability to jog in a circle or lift heavy shit. "Whether you''re fighting the antithesis and your weapon jams at a bad time, or you need to subdue a VIP that you can''t simply shoot, or you''re caught fighting a crowd of protestors in close quarters, you need to know the basics of modern combat. We''re going to focus especially on fundamentals, the things you need to know to survive. Learning how to kill effectively comes second." The professor gestured, and the assistants ran off. They returned with these big lumpy beige bags that they dropped on the floor before us, then they ran off to get more from a storage room at the back. "We''re starting the day with basic stretches, then we''re going straight into core strength and endurance training. Line up, get some space between each other. I don''t want to see one of you smacking your neighbor in the face, c''mon!" The class spread out, taking up a good chunk of the room until we all had enough room around us not to touch even if we reached towards each other. Then Rogers started us on stretches. Initially it was pretty easy stuff. Arm extensions, squats, lunges. Then he started to repeat the same pattern, but a little more extreme. Arm extensions combined with full-body twists, squats that turned into doing the splits on the floor, lunges that had us turning half-way to try and touch the ground behind us. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! A few students tripped over themselves and landed their ass on the floor, but it wasn''t so funny when I was trying not to lose my own balance. I very quickly discovered that I wasn''t half as flexible as the old man at the front. He could do a full split, lean to the side and touch his ear with a toe. I was pretty sure that if I pushed that hard, I''d rip something. I wasn''t quite sweating after ten minutes of stretching, but it was a near thing. "Alright!" Professor Rogers said as he bounced up to his feet. "Next, strength training. We''re not looking to build big muscles here. I don''t give a shit if you look good on a poster. What I care about is functional strength. The ability to pull yourself up over obstacles, the ability to carry a wounded VIP or comrade, the ability to walk for half a day and still shoot at the end of that. Pick a body! We''re doing some light jogging for the next half hour." Picking a body meant grabbing one of those lumpy things the TAs were dropping in front of each student. They were big, vaguely-human shaped lumps of weighted mass. I grabbed mine, then immediately regretted the way I''d tried to just lift it. The damned thing was heavier than I was, and it was a sort of dead weight, all lumpy and almost liquid. I glanced at the side when I saw someone do a roll that ended with them under the weight, then they lifted it with a squat. I did the same, thought not nearly so gracefully. I think if it wasn''t for the grip strength on my cybernetic arm, I might not have been able to hold on at all, but eventually I had the lump over one shoulder and I was able to hang onto it. "Alright! Get running!" I started to jog along with the rest. We went around the edge of the room in a big circle, and I could immediately tell that this wasn''t going to be fun after a few minutes. I had a few cybernetic enhancements on my side, plus some upgrades that Myalis had pushed on me, but in the end I was still an underfed, under-exercised twig of a girl that was only in shape because I couldn''t afford not to be. Running around with my own weight on my back was not normal for me. It was worse for some of the others, though. They were gasping after three minutes and one chick fell down and crashed to the mats. The professor was on her in seconds, barking orders and telling her to get back up. So, no mercy from the old asshole. I locked in as best I could. Some of the guys in the class were moving as if this was nothing. There were a couple that were more cybernetics than flesh, and they weren''t having any trouble with this shit. "It''s... not fair!" one skinny dude said. I immediately pegged him as a nepo-baby. "What''s not fair?" Rogers asked. "They''re modded... for this," he said. "Then get mods of your own, imbecile," the professor said. "You work with what you have, and in this day and age, if you don''t like what you''ve got, get better." The running around ended after far too long, and this time I couldn''t hide the fact that I was a sweaty, tired mess. "Good... now that you''re all warmed up, let''s start some speed drills. We''re going to start with hand-eye coordination drills, then once that''s done, we''re going to do a bit more sprinting," Professor Rogers said. The TAs started to pull out these pole contraptions with red balls on stalks. Once they set a few down, it wasn''t long before I figured out how they worked. A light would go off in the ball, and the student in front had to punch it. The lights went off progressively faster, and there was a penalty counter for missed hits. My legs were hurting before, and this thing was designed to fuck up my arms too. Why had I ever agreed to any of this? At the same time... I couldn''t help but feel like this might be a good way to come out the other side stronger and faster, so I''d trust the process for a bit. *** Chapter Thirteen - Carl Phillip Gottfried von Clauswitz Chapter Thirteen - Carl Phillip Gottfried von Clauswitz "Carl Phillip Gottfried von Clauswitz was a coward lil bitch, and no I ain''t elaborating. No notes." --Professor of Military History John B Mcbrea, 2051 *** "Alright, sit down," Professor Rogers said. I didn''t need to be told twice. Over the last few minutes, while we were doing jumping jacks at one end of the room, the teacher''s assistants were moving the mats off the floor where the seats were. Now the desks had unfolded and were back in their neat little rows. I flopped down onto mine and let out a long breath. My heart was still pumping fast, and I could feel the wet slickness of sweat sticking to my back. The shitty gym shirt I had didn''t breathe well. "Class will end in an hour. We''re going to alternate, going forwards, between long class-sessions where we focus on theory and discussions, and physical education at the end, and longer physical education sessions followed by theory," the professor said. "Historically, this has worked relatively well. Even if you feel physically exhausted, that shouldn''t stop your minds from working, and the physical training post-lesson sometimes gives you time to think and meditate on what you just learned." I nodded. Yeah, I could get that. Not super fond of the idea of spending so much learning time as a sweaty mess, but I got it. "Good, now that we''re all on the same page, let''s continue our discussion from last time. We talked about Sun Tzu, a strategist and military theorist of ancient China. Today we''re going to cover someone a little younger. Carl Phillip Gottfried von Clauswitz. Everyone who studies military history usually refers to him as Clausewitz alone." The professor turned to one of his TAs and gestured to them. They returned a moment later with a small fold-out seat that he sat on backwards. "Clausewitz was a Prussian general and theorist whose work can honestly be said to have shaped modern warfare. He fought in the Napoleonic wars, a time much like the present where new technologies were changing the fundamental ways that wars were fought. He was a successful general, but more importantly, he wrote about his observations in a book whose name roughly translates to ''On War'' or ''About War.''" Rogers rubbed at the bridge of his nose. I wondered if he had notes written on his augs or something so that we couldn''t see, or if he was pulling all of this from thin air. "Clausewitz''s work is... honestly, kind of shit," Rogers said. "It''s unfinished, filled with contradictory statements, and some of his observations are clearly biased. I''d still suggest reading his work, but do so with an annotated edition that includes the relevant historical context. Or at least watch a few docs on Prussian and the Napoleonic period. Anyway..." He waves his hand through the air dismissively. "The point is, Clauswitz wasn''t a perfect man, or a perfect theorist, but his work and observations on the facts of warfare serve as a good stepping stone for a modern understanding of warfare. War, in his view, isn''t a predictable science, but an uncontrolled and dynamic force shaped by humans. That means emotions come into play as much as technology and geography." I nodded along. Ancient dude wasn''t perfect. Got it. "His ideas still influence modern military doctrine, corporate security, and most forms of asymmetric warfare. Interestingly, his ideas on warfare often fall flat in the face of the Antithesis. There''s a lot of what he said that can be applied to keeping humanity ready and willing to fight, but at the same time, the Antithesis don''t care for the psychology of warfare in a way that matters." The professor blinked a couple of times, and the screen behind him lit up. There was a picture of some guy on it. Or a picture of a painting of some guy. I had to assume that was Clausewitz himself. "One of his main emphases was that war isn''t just a matter of strength, but one of perception. If your enemy is underestimating you, or you mislead them about your capabilities, then their strategy is compromised. This is especially true today where a lot of war is fought digitally between corporations. The battlefield is stockholder loyalty and public perception as opposed to geographic lines and ideological differences." He blinked, and the screen shifted to show two very generic corporate icons. "Let''s use an example here. Corp A and Corp B here are vying for dominance in a specific field. They both have manufacturing set up for something that''s vaguely valuable. Say... they make body kits for modern hovercars. It''s lucrative enough as a business that both corporations are valued in the low billions. Corp A wants to push a new kind of design onto the market, something big and flashy." This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Another click, and there was a picture of a boxy car, then it turned into something... still kind of boxy. Professor Rogers wasn''t a designer, I figured. "There are several ways that Corp A can succeed with a new product, but given that they''re in an ecosystem with competition, they need to work around the competition. Clausewitz'' principles of warfare suggest that all-out physical violence should only be employed later, once subterfuge and other methods have failed. Corp A could try to launch a campaign to discredit Corp B. They could bribe members of Corp B to introduce a higher number of failures in their product. They could drop false information that leads to Corp B suspecting a product launch before its actual date, forcing them to move faster and make more mistakes. The goal is to fight with information control first. Avoid gunfights, avoid assassinations, because once you''ve started down that path, then you can''t walk it back." Rogers licked his lips. "The real lesson, however, is that warfare, whether corporate or national, is fought against people. The enemy isn''t just a faceless entity, but is composed of hundreds of individuals with their own fears and morals and feelings. There are actions you can take to influence these people directly or indirectly that can lead to an eventual victory without violence, or that can give you an advantage when violence does occur." Rogers blinked and the screen changed again, this time showing a political sort in front of a crowd, behind him was a group of suits and assistants. "In January 2035 this man, Maxime Mythe, was one of the leading politicians of a French political party with a middle-right leaning. His party was gaining popularity in several polls and he was in line to become an influential politician. His slate was clean. No cheating on his spouse, no diddling kids, no bribes. He was an asshole, because he was a politician, but a clean one." The image zoomed in on one of the randos behind the Maxime guy. "This is his press secretary. A young man whose slate wasn''t nearly as clean. At the time, Maxime was fighting against bio-modifications in his country, wanting to make them illegal and increase enforcement against the use of cyberization. Solace Biotech, a now defunct company, decided to fight against Maxime, but their head of cybersecurity very specifically targeted his press secretary. He was blackmailed into revealing several sensitive documents, including several which were falsified. It didn''t matter that they were fake, the public outrage was enough that by the time investigations were complete, the laws that Maxime wanted to put into place were never going to see the light of day, and his political career was shot." I rubbed at my face. I hadn''t heard of this thing, but... yeah, that sounded plausible. I''d seen plenty of political shit go down on my personal media feed that looked a lot like this. So how much of what I''d seen throughout my life was someone fucking with someone else like this? Lucy would love this shit. Rogers went on for a while, going back to some ancient history with Clausewitz and then comparing some of that guy''s stuff to Sun Tzu and how they differed in some ways and overlapped in others. Soon enough, though, the class was over. Five minutes before it was meant to, even. "Alright, I''ll see you all in two days," Rogers said. "You''re off early because you need to shower. The stink of you lot is driving me insane. We''re starting the next class five minutes early to make up for it." I peeled myself off the seat, then sighed as a smiling Olivia frumped her way over. "Did you enjoy the class?" she asked. "CIAL''s lessons are specially designed to help students take in as much information as possible in as short a time! Even our physical education is designed to maximize learning efforts!" "Yeah, it was fine," I said. "I''mma head out. I think there''s a shower in my mech. No offence, but I''m not big on public showers where a bunch of dudes have their dicks out. So, uh, you have fun with that." I needed to get clean, and maybe zone out for a while. *** Chapter Fourteen - Unexpected Fallout Chapter Fourteen - Unexpected Fallout "The obsession with youth is an unchecked virus. The fixation on appearing young is less about vanity and more about survival in a culture that equates power with youth. And yet, the reality is that all political soft power is in the hands of the old. In the digital age, where everything is accelerated and disposable, youth is weaponized, sold, and idolized. But in chasing an endless cycle of perfection, we miss the deeper, grittier truth; true strength is forged in the scars of experience, the wisdom of survival, and the beauty of becoming something more than a perfectly polished avatar. --Excerpt from a speech by Bernard Dotter at the Grey Hair Con of 2045 *** "Yo," I said as I walked up to the Bastion. Olivia had peeled off a while ago, almost as soon as I was within line of sight of the ship, and now the only stranger left was... that dude that was accompanying Lucy. Emmet? Easton? No, it was... Ethan? "Cat!" Lucy said before she ran over and gave me a quick hug. "I''m glad you arrived. Did class go on for a long time? Also, you stink." I laughed, then shrugged. "A bit? I think it finished early, but I had to get changed." "Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense," she said. "Anyway, Ethan here was just keeping me company, but he''s heading out now." "I am?" Ethan asked. "Yup," Lucy said. "Thanks for stalking me around all over, it was nice of you! I''ll see you tomorrow, right?" "Oh, yeah, right," Ethan said with a goofy smile. If it wasn''t so obvious that Lucy had a leash on the poor idiot I might have considered socking him in the nose, but... yeah, no, he was giving off mad himbo idiot vibes. Lucy waved as the boy took off, then she turned back to me. "Can we go home?" she asked. "Yeah, sure," I said. "You in a hurry?" Lucy nodded. "I''ve been holding it in all morning." I barked a laugh, not expecting that reply. "Really? They have bathrooms here, you know?" I said as I walked over to the Bastion and sent a command through my augs to open it up. "Yeah, I know, but... public washrooms suck," she said. "I hate the stalls. They''re always super narrow, and there was never room for my crutches." "Okay," I said. She didn''t have crutches anymore, and I was pretty sure the washroom back at the orphanage couldn''t be any narrower without breaking some physical laws, but I knew better than to point that out. If she had hangups about it, then whatever. "There''s a washroom on the Bastion. Never used, either." "Really?" Lucy asked. "Yeah, there''s a whole living space. I never wanted to use the washroom on here though," I said. "Why not?" she asked. "Well, for one, this thing''s usually parked at home, so like... why bother? And for two, I don''t actually know where the shit goes in the first place, and I don''t want to have to learn how to empty a shit tank or whatever." "That''s gross," Lucy said. "Do like an airplane and just dump it while flying." "That''s an idea," I said. It didn''t take long before we were taking off. Lucy took one of the spare seats in the cockpit, her feet tapping a rapid, nervous beat behind me. I did fly a little faster than usual, because I wasn''t cruel. When we got home, Lucy hurried off while I did some post-flight checks. I had the next day free, and I had a lot of shit to cram into one day. So now was as good a time as any to look at the Bastion''s maintenance logs to see what it needed. I... still needed a shower, but if I was gonna get dirty anyway, then what was the point? The Bastion was pretty low-maintenance for a ship as large as it was. A few filters were yellow-green on some readouts, and the lubricant tanks were sitting at a comfortable ninety-percent. Basically, I could probably keep running it for another month of daily use without having to even think about doing any work on it, but... well, just in case, I sent an order to the matter fabricator to print replacement filters and set a reminder on my augs to do an oil change every ten thousand kilometres. I was tempted to get back to work on the mech''s leg that I still had in the back but... eh, if I got into it, I really wanted to get into it. The Nyanzerfaust still needed a couple of weeks of work, and picking away at it a few minutes at a time wouldn''t add up to much. I liked it better when I could sit down and work uninterrupted and without anything grabbing at my attention. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "Fuck it," I muttered before stepping out. As I rode the elevator up then made my way to our room to get showered, I was thinking about the next day. It was a day without classes, so I''d be free to do whatever. That... somehow made me a little anxious. There was a lot I could be doing. Maybe I''d split the day in half? The whole school thing actually had me waking up at something approaching a reasonable hour in the morning, so that gave me most of a full day to work with. I ran around the bedroom, looking for clothes that weren''t too dirty. Lucy must have done the laundry because one of the chairs from the kitchen was in the corner of the room with a pile of mostly folded clothes on it. "Hey, Myalis, what''s the plan for tomorrow?" I didn''t know that you usually planned that far ahead. "Very funny," I said as I shouldered my way into the bathroom. I am the epitome of hilarity, yes. Though to answer your question more directly, you never planned anything for tomorrow as far as I''m aware. However, there are some outstanding issues that you might want to address, given enough free time. "Yeah, that''s the kind of thing I''m talking about," I said. "What issues, though?" Mostly the consequences of your call to action at the funeral you attended recently. The call to action which was broadcast internationally and which has had a marked effect on the number of riots and acts of political activism across the region. I suspect that some entities wish to talk to you about that. I paused in the act of mussing shampoo into my hair. "Wait, what?" There''s also still an ongoing global incursion, though it is mostly contained and seems to be slowly winding down. The area around New Montreal is quite secure, but there are still pockets of resistance. "Right, okay," I said. That much was easier to deal with. Finally, I believe that the army had put in several requests to communicate with you, including some sent directly from members you are familiar with. There is also some mail from local vanguard who wish to discuss various topics with you. "Urgh," I said. I took a moment to dunk my head under the flowing water of the shower. It drowned out my thoughts for a few moments. "Okay," I said as I pulled my head out. "Fuck me, that''s something. Can you like... order them by importance or something? Tell me who''s at the top?" A surprisingly difficult thing to ask, but I believe I can manage. At the top of the list would be the representatives of the Keiretsu and Nachtw?chternetzwerk. They want to set up a post-operation debrief in the coming week. They are giving you some leeway since New Montreal was hit hardest by the falling Phobos remains, but I suspect that they''ll want a meeting sooner rather than later. "Makes sense," I said. "Who''s next on that list?" The Family wishes to speak with you. "They always do," I muttered. "Yeah, okay, let''s... do a meeting with the doc and the Japanese samurai in the morning if that works for them, or in the afternoon if it doesn''t. Timezone fuckery and all that. Then the Family around noon. Anyone else?" Vanguard Deus Ex recently sent a request via text for a meeting. I blinked, then regretted it when I get some water in my eyes. "She''s back on Earth?" I asked. No. But her station is nearing Earth. Enough to make a videocall possible. She''s requesting a meeting at any time, at your convenience. "Huh. Yeah, okay. Talking to the pipsqueak might be worth the time." Deus Ex was a weird one. So far, she''d always been... kind of a superior? As far as samurai had superiors, that was. She was several tiers above me, had years more experience, and was teched-out to an obscene level. I was very, very far from being able to do shit in space, and here she was, with a station that could move from Earth to Mars and back. Still, for all that she was way stronger... it was hard to take her seriously sometimes. She was too small and cutesy, even if I was pretty sure she was more hardcore than even some of the most badass metal-chewing super soldier types I''d met. I shut the shower off, then stepped out. "What time is it?" I asked. Almost two PM, currently. "Oh... well shit, for some reason it feels like today''s over," I said. "Right... well, in that case, let''s get some food in me, then see about doing some work at home. I feel like shit''s gonna get busy sooner than I''d like, and I want to get as much done as I can while I can. *** Chapter Fifteen - Im Not Wiser, Just Older Chapter Fifteen - I''m Not Wiser, Just Older "Oldmaxxing is the fashion trend, inspired by men of the 80s and 90s. It includes a focus on browns and earth-tones, belts and simple walking shoes, and most eye-catchingly, the fashion often includes a particular Oldmax hairstyle where the front of the scalp is shaved back along the crown to give the impression that that oldmaxer is losing hair, while the rest of their hair is left to grow longer than usual and is combed back. Oldmaxers often combine this with the habit of smoking traditional paper cigarettes and listening to vintage early-2000s music. -Excerpt from ''Styles of the 2030s'', Second Ed. 2044 *** Wake up, Catherine. I winced, then blinked my eyes open. It was dark, but I still recognized that I was in my bedroom. Lucy was pressed up next to me, and I''d recognize the feel of her anywhere. I tilted my head up and tried to scan the room. My organic eye was adjusted to the dark, but I still couldn''t see much, which made it weird as my cybernetic eye could pick things out much better. There wasn''t anyone in the room. Which... why had I woken up, then? I was definitely still tired. I''m the one that woke you up. "Oh," I said as I let my head fall back. I had asked Myalis to wake me up the night before at around seven-ish. I''d even gone to bed yesterday, as opposed to early this morning. "God, I''m so fucking stupid," I muttered. "Mm," Lucy said as she rolled over so that she was back to me. I didn''t know if that was agreement or not, but her cold toes against the side of my leg almost did more to wake me up than Myalis talking in my head. "Myalis?" I asked. Yes, Catherine? "Do you have a snooze function?" No. Wake up. "Urgh," I groaned, but without Lucy holding onto me, I didn''t have any real excuse to stay in bed. So I rolled over, then untangled myself from the blankets until I was sitting on the edge. I rubbed my face, then gave in and stood up. Technically I''d gotten enough sleep. I was probably going to wake up on my own soon enough. The problem was, I''d kinda gotten used to just... Cuddling with Lucy for an hour or so in the morning while scrolling through my media feed and overdosing my early-morning brain with brain-rot slop. Sometimes we''d even fuck. But no, I just had to insist on being responsible on my first day off after the whole school thing. What was I even thinking? Complaining about it wouldn''t help any, so I got up and got going. Morning stuff, then breakfast, then getting dressed properly. By the time seven-thirty or so rolled around, I was ready to face the day. Then Lucy ambled out of the bedroom, looking a little lost, with her hair all poofed up on one side and squished in on the other. "Why did you leave?" she asked. It was a bit whiny. "It''s cold." "Sorry," I said before folding her into a hug. "I''ve got a busy morning. Trust me, I''d much rather spend it with you. Even if your feet are cold." "My feet aren''t cold," Lucy lied. "Sure they aren''t," I pretended to agree, because I am a model girlfriend. "Anyway, you have classes this morning, right?" "Yeah," Lucy said. She yawned cutely, then reached her fingers into her hair to scratch at her scalp. "Oh... you don''t, right? I guess I can use a taxi, or call in a favour or something." "I''ll drive you over," I decided. "And I think the Bastion''s auto-pilot is good enough to get you to the school and back. Usually I''d let you just go with that, but I might need it. We need to get you a car." "Sure?" Lucy said. "I''ll go take a shower. I''ll be ready in a bit." I nodded, then watched her go. Once she disappeared back into our room, I let out a sigh and wandered back to the kitchen. I found a can of coffee in the fridge and popped the tab. It tasted like ass, but it had 400% of my daily caffeine in it, and I needed that at the moment. "So, first plan is getting into contact with the Nachtw?chternetzwerk and the Keiretsu, right?" I asked aloud. I was impressed that I was able to say that without stumbling. "Can you send a message to the Doc and... crap, what was his name... Susano? Yeah, him. Send them both a message telling them that I''m down for a meeting in like, an hour or so. Whenever I''m back from dropping Lucy off." Message sent. "Thanks," I said. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. At this rate, you''re going to need to purchase a secretary AI catalogue. "Would it be better than you?" I asked. Don''t try to be cute. I grinned and took another sip of my canned coffee. Lucy came in a few minutes later, hair still wet, but wearing a fresh school uniform. She tossed a piece of bread into the toaster, then started making a quick and easy breakfast. "Gonna be ready in five," she said. "Oh! The school''s sending someone over today." "Wait, here?" I asked. "Yeah. A teacher, for the kittens. Uh, I told Daniel to take care of greeting them and all that, so don''t worry. And I told Myalis, so the turrets probably won''t blow them up." She started to butter her toast, very unconcerned about that last bit. Lucy looked up, then blinked. "Oh fuck! It''s almost eight!" "Yeah?" "My class starts at eight this morning! I gotta go!" As soon as Lucy was done buttering her toast, she scooped up a bag from the side in a hurry, then was out the door, toast hanging from her mouth. I shrugged, then followed after her at a more sedate pace, though I did send the order through my augs to open the Bastion up for her. Lucy was pretty quiet on the flight over, not that it was a very long one. When we landed, she hopped to her feet, gave me a quick kiss, then a slower kiss, and then she was off. "Well, that''s one thing handled," I said. "Hey, Secretary Myalis?" I can render your homeworld down into its individual atomic elements and sort them by mass and there''s nothing you could do to stop me. "Nice threat, but I''m too stupid to know what that means, so can you set an alarm for me to remind me to pick Lucy up?" Only because I like Lucy more than you sometimes. I laughed. "Hey, same." By the way, Keiretsu have replied to my message. They will be unable to attend your meeting this morning, but they did send a memo that a member of their group is on their way to North America. Vanguard Radikal, however, is ready to speak to you at your convenience, as long as it''s convenient within the next hour and forty minutes. "Huh, alright," I said. "Let''s get back home and park this thing. There''s a camera setup in the garage, right? Next to the hologram projector thing?" Yes. There is a camera next to the hologram projector thing. "Cool!" I said. It wasn''t long that I was carefully pulling into the parking garage under my massive cat-shaped home. Once the Bastion was settled in, I sat back and gave myself a few seconds to decompress before standing up and heading out. Setting up the camera in the main workshop part of the garage-within-the-garage wasn''t too hard. The UI for stuff I bought through Myalis was always super easy to figure out. A literal kid could stare at it for a few minutes and know how it worked. Once I had an image of myself up and tested it by waving a bit, I placed the call to the doc. It took three rings for him to answer, and that was with a, "Forgive me, but wait just one moment please," spoken in a thick German accent. "No probs, Doc," I said. A few moments later, I had the doc in front of me in miniature as a projected hologram. There was some 3d fuckery going on that made what was behind him appear as well, though in a sort of compressed way. It looked like he was in some sort of... lab, maybe? Like, a really high-tech one, but a lab all the same. "Ah! Stray Cat! It''s a pleasure to see you again." "Yeah, likewise, Radikal," I said. "You doing alright over there?" "Things are well," he replied with a smile. "The last of the mop-up for the Phobos incident went according to plan, and the remains of the moon are now hurtling through space and a trajectory which will have them intercepted by Jupiter in... about three hundred and twenty years." "Uh, that''s not for a minute," I said. "Space is quite large, and orbits quite complex," he said. "How about you? How are things on your end? The Phobos incursion was quite sudden, but you seem to have handled it well." "Yeah, surprisingly, things... went alright," I said. I pulled over a wheeled stool that was parked next to that mech leg I was working on, then sat down on it. "We... lived. Got a lot of locals to help, and things worked out. I mean, there were losses, but..." "But the efforts we took prevented these from being disastrous," he said with a nod. "Yeah," I said. "I guess we did alright." *** Chapter Sixteen - Die Welt ist im Wandel Chapter Sixteen - Die Welt ist im Wandel "Sure, we live in a multicultural, multilingual world. But if you don''t speak the same language as me, then I still think you''re a weirdo." --Witch streamer CielCiel minutes before being cancelled, 2036 *** I leaned back a little in my stool. "So, Doc, how have things been, besides the whole Phobos situation?" Radikal blinked owlishly, then casually shrugged. "Things have generally been well. There''s always a slow return to some form of normalcy after such a big event. And the Phobos incident was one that the Nachtw?chternetzwerk willingly chose to embark on. There''s some political barking about our Storm device, but it''s hardly the first time we''ve built or purchased something capable of causing mass destruction." "Yeah, I can see why people would bitch about it, but it''s kind of pointless to whine about one nuke when you''re sitting on a stockpile of them," I said. "Exactly, yes," he said. "In any case, the state of things is returning to the way we like them." "What''s that mean?" I asked. "There are fewer threats of human extinction this week than there were in the last. Our doomsday clock has slid back several microseconds." "Doomsday clock, huh? What hour''s it at?" I asked. Radikal chucked. "Twenty-three fifty-nine." "Ah, well shit," I said as I reached up to rub my face. "You know, I started to go to school this week. For the first time in... anyway. Uh, learning that we''re so close to everything going tits up kind of makes that seem like a waste of time." The doc shook his head. "No. I believe, firmly, that there is a serious need for us Vanguard to have real, stable lives. I''m not a top-tier one myself, but I have been a Samurai for ten years now. Eleven? Ah, it has been a while. I''ve seen some young souls become Vanguards and lose a great part of themselves as they race to the top. They come to their senses eventually, or they''re the kind of person for whom such a high level of power feels natural, but I think that taking things slow and keeping a firm grasp on your humanity is important. If your way of doing this is to attend school and be surrounded by normal people, then so be it." "I don''t think there''s much risk of me forgetting my humanity or whatever. Or leaving normal people behind," I said. I had the kittens to look after, and Lucy to keep me... more or less grounded. "Ah, I shouldn''t have presumed. Forgive me," he said. "In any case, what is that I see behind you? The leg of a mechanized system?" "Huh? Oh, that''s the leg of my mech. One of them. It''s... kind of semi-taken apart. There was this nasty fucking model thirty-something that took a few bites out of my mech and left it all sorts of fucked. I''ve been fixing it since. I have another to use in the meantime." "Ah, a mechanic! Perhaps you''d fit into the Network better than you think. We support a number of more engineering-inclined Samurai." No way was I gonna head over and embarrass myself in front of the Germans. "It''s just a hobby," I said. "Don''t go looking at me if anything breaks down." Talking with Radikal was... nice? The guy had this sort of ''awkward scientist'' vibe in the way he dressed and moved, but it didn''t feel that way at all when he talked. I guess I was stereotyping him based on his looks or something, but as we chatted about this and that, he never really dropped the ball. Before I knew it, half an hour had passed. He''d told me a few stories about some of the people he worked with, and I got to tell a few about how shit had gone down around the Big Gun. "I actually don''t know what we''re going to do with it now," I said. "The army''s still stationed all around it, as far as I know. I think they''re building up an entire ass base right next to the Big Gun? It''s not a really great place for that, but... actually, it''s not terrible either." "Oh? Why''s that?" he asked. "Gros Baton. That little French-Canadian kid? He still lives in his hometown, and that''s a stone''s throw away from the Big Gun''s site. So they at least have a Samurai within shouting distance if anyone tries anything. Not that I think anyone will." "It would be difficult to steal an installation as large as the Big Gun. However, don''t underestimate the willingness of some to try," he warned. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it "I guess it might be worth it. Things got to be worth a few billion, right? But like, the other half of the gun is useless without a samurai to operate it." "Yes, certainly, but the portal system isn''t. I can imagine some corporations paying quite the sum just to have images and blueprints of such a device to throw at their research and development teams." "Would they get anything out of it?" I asked. "Shit was the collaborative work of a dozen samurai. It''s not something that''s going to spill its secrets just like that. And if it did, then it''s still like, a few decades ahead of any tech we have," I said. "We" being humanity in general, of course. "It''s only a few decades ahead because we''ve spent decades catching up," he said sagely. "Are we actually catching up?" I asked. "Feels like this shit is pure sci-fi stuff." I gestured around vaguely at all the stuff around me. Radikal just nodded. "We are. You are, forgive me for saying so, still quite young. It''s normal that you haven''t internalized the change, but it is happening, and at a pace that is startling. It is merely that in the last few decades, change has been happening in a sort of wave." "A wave?" I asked. "Yes. You may be too young to have noticed it, but every five to ten years now, there''s a great breakthrough in one field of science or another. Usually something that propels a corporation into prominence, and usually something linked to a Vanguard." "Okay," I said. "And that''s the start of a wave?" "Yes, a wave," he said. "Because there is then a race to apply this new technology to everything. It becomes a craze, usually going too far before it recedes and a new normal is achieved." "So like... hover cars?" I asked. "A good example! The technology was innovative when I was still young, and it was applied to everything. Now it has been scaled back to more reasonable productions. Mostly automobiles and some utility items. No one speaks of flying cities anymore, not since Atlantica was built at great expense and proved to be problematic in practice." Right, that big floating city over the Atlantic ocean. Kind of a hot mess from what I remembered, but also like... kinda popular as a nation-less citystate for some folk. "Obviously, when the Nachtw?chternetzwerk built our flying base of operations, we utilized similar, but more advanced, technology. Afterall, the purpose of technology is to better allow you to accomplish a goal. More efficiency, more effectiveness, lower cost and upkeep. These are all factors that come into play when adopting something new. In that respect, the goal of the Protectors is slowly coming to fruition." "Their goal?" I asked. "Ain''t that just to keep us alive?" "No. Don''t you recall the words your AI companion first spoke to you?" I blinked. "I think I was impaled with a metal pole at the time," I said. "And I wasn''t expecting a voice in my head." He didn''t even hesitate at the admission. I guess he had been a samurai for longer, so my origin story didn''t sound too special. "Each AI says something slightly different, I believe, and there''s the linguistic difference as well. Mine said, ''Ich werde Ihnen helfen, die Menschheit zu erheben, damit Sie Ihre Heimatwelt vor der Bedrohung durch die Antithese verteidigen k?nnen,'' or something similar. Essentially, ''Ich werde dir helfen, die Menschheit zu erheben, damit du deine Heimatwelt vor der Bedrohung durch die Antithese verteidigen kannst.'' That is not the same as assisting humanity itself, but assisting me, and you, to assist humanity." "I guess I get it," I said. "It''s giving a gun to a cop for him to keep the place safe, rather than doing it yourself." "That analogy works... to some extent, yes." "I''m not good at those," I admitted. "But yeah... I guess we''re helping in our own way?" He nodded. "As long as we''re not giving people too many tools with which to kill themselves, I think we''ll be fine. There will be more need of us in the future. Take this moment of calm for what it is; time to let yourself learn and unwind and sharpen the skills that you will need later, because later always comes sooner than you might think." *** Chapter Seventeen - Grasping at Paper Straws Chapter Seventeen - Grasping at Paper Straws "No luxury has survived recessions and economic downturns better than the humble drive-through coffee, because when you only have five dollars to your name, you can still afford a four dollar cuppa." --Except from The Second Big Depression, by Economist Wayne Wright, 2026 *** "So... yeah, bye man," I said. Radikal smiled right back. "Yes. It was genuinely nice to speak with you, even if we strayed from our initial topic. Have a good... ah, afternoon, Stray Cat." "See ya, Doc," I said before terminating the call. Leaning back after the image of the old guy blinked away, I reached up and brushed a hand through my hair. That was my early afternoon chore done. We''d ended up talking for an hour where I was initially expecting the call to last like, ten minutes at most, but Radikal was surprisingly fun to talk to. We have jack shit in common other than being Samurai, and yet I could see myself being his friend. In a ''grab a beer after work'' kind of way. I was just standing up when my projector blinked to life right in front of me. On instinct, I reached for my Trenchmaker, but it was just Radikal again. "Stray Cat? Forgive me, please, but I realized as I terminated our call that there was something I forgot to communicate with you." "Oh, uh, shit, go ahead," I said. "Yes, yes, again I''m sorry. I was speaking with Susano this morning, when he happened to be awake as I was, and he mentioned to me that a samurai from the Keiretsu is heading to New Montreal, and it''s possible that she would be showing up at your place to meet you." I shrugged. "Alright? Anyone I should worry about?" Radikal seemed to consider that. "I don''t believe so? It might be best to consider them as a friendly ally coming for a visit." "I can handle that," I said. The house was clean enough, and I didn''t mind making more samurai friends. "Good, good," he said with a nod. "In that case, goodbye for real. Have a nice afternoon." "Ciao," I said as his image winked out. "So... who''s coming to visit?" From what I can glean from public records, she''s a long-term member of the Keiretsu. An experienced vanguard who elected not to participate in the Martian crusade. A ''she'' huh? Well, whatever. I''d see them when they showed up. Placing my hands on my hips, I stretched my lower back out, then twisted left and right. "Okay, it''s... almost one. I should grab something on the way over to the Family, yeah?" Heading over in the Bastion would make the most sense, but if things went long and Lucy needed a ride back, I could just send the ship over to pick her up. Which left my bike. The bike was also conveniently able to fly into aerial drive-throughs, so I could grab something unhealthy on the way over. I deserved it after that physical torture I''d been through in yesterday''s class. Before I left, I ran upstairs and got changed. I''d worn old jeans and a loose t-shirt for the meeting with Radikal because it was all over screens and he was probably not a stickler for looks. When meeting the Family? Well, if Emoscythe was here, she''d probably have something to say about projecting power with my appearance or something. Basically, if I showed up looking like some nobody girl that was clueless, they''d treat me exactly like that. I slid into a suit of exo-armour and then shrugged on a long coat with my Stray Cat logo on the back before tucking a Laser Pointer SMG in the small of my back and replacing my Trench Maker where it would be within easy reach in a thigh holster. It wasn''t exactly like showing up in a war mech, but the armour gave me a couple of inches of height, and it was sleek as shit. I looked myself over before leaving. Emoscythe had helped with the image for this one a while back, and I was rocking the dangerous bounty-hunter look. I liked it. I wouldn''t ever admit it out loud, but it made me feel kind of cool. Obviously, being actually cool was about being chill with yourself to the point where you weren''t trying to be cool at all, so I wasn''t going to open my dumb mouth and let people know. If anyone asked, this armour and coat and shit was all the most efficient stuff I had access to at the moment. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. With a nod to myself, I moved back downstairs, straddled my bike, then shot out of our building and up past the midday air traffic. "Myalis, can you poke the Family and let them know that I''m on my way? Just want to check in on things, make sure our projects are moving along at a good pace." On a scale of one to sixteen, how passive-aggressive should I be with the message? "Uh... like, a two?" I said. No. I''d rather go all-in. Message sent. What did that even mean? I... didn''t feel like I had the energy to untangle Myalis'' fun at the moment though. I turned my bike down and flew over to a drive-through coffee place that didn''t have too long of a line, and five minutes (and a couple of thousand credits) later, I was flying with one hand on the handles and the other holding onto an ice cappuccino. Fuck the bounty hunter look, this sugary shit was tasty. The Family''s HQ in the middle of the city looked busier than I remembered it being. Traffic around the building was constant, and it wasn''t just hovercars and vans. There were a few vehicles that were definitely some samurai''s ride. Jolly Monarch had to be around because there was half of a chess set floating nearby, each ''piece'' the size of a suburban home but made entirely of metal and probably filled with enough firepower to level a small town, and the ''samurai only'' parking on the roof only had a couple of spots free. I parked my bike in between a large armoured van painted in a deep black with no obvious windows or doors and a sweet little blue roadster with sick flame decals. No idea who either belonged to. New samurai in the region? Or just more New Montreal samurai that I hadn''t met? Actually, it might have been out-of-towners. The call just before the Phobos incident had brought in a lot of people from outside of the region to help, and that could mean that the Family was playing hotel. I climbed off my bike, then slid open the front of my helmet so that I could sip through the straw of my ice cap... the damned straw had turned to mush at the bottom though. "Fucking paper straws," I muttered. I was all for saving nature and shit, but only when it wasn''t inconvenient. I ended up drinking from the lip of the cup like a barbarian as I made my way over to the main entrance. Within, I found three people in suits waiting for me. They all smiled corpo little smiles and greeted me with handshakes. One of them, a slightly older guy with greying hair, spoke for the others once the introductions were over with. "How can we assist you today, Miss Stray Cat?" he asked. "Just want an in-person update," I said. "Where is Eric, or Piper?" I asked. The two of them had been my sorta-official liaisons with the Family. I wasn''t exactly attached to either, but it was easier to deal with a familiar face than not. "They''re on their way," the man assured me. "Your arrival was unexpected, and neither were on-duty at the time." "Uh-huh," I said. The trio started to lead me further into the building, but I wasn''t sure where we were going, exactly. Fortunately, a few corridors in, we were met by Eric who ran over while adjusting his tie. "Miss Stray Cat," he said with a nervous smile. "I''ll take it from here, gents." The trio hesitated, but clearly Eric here had some sort of leg up on them because they slinked away after a while. "Sorry about that," he said. "I understand that you''re not fond of overly formal arrangements. Ah, but we''re being run ragged right now." "Things are bad?" I asked. "Things are busy," he said. "I... am permitted to speak candidly?" "Yeah, go ahead." "The Family is using the end of the current crisis and its involvement within it to bolster its own reputation and standing. That means a massive PR campaign, lots of outreach, and we need to ensure that all of the work we do now is above the usual standard, to avoid any reproach from any competition." "You''ve got competition?" I asked. He shrugged. "The government?" Well shit, that made some sort of sense. "Alright. Well, I hope I didn''t give you guys too much work." "You did, ma''am, but trust me, the higher-ups couldn''t be more pleased. You''ll be happy to note that their pleasure reflects well on your own Family-related projects." *** Chapter Eighteen - How Will You Wipe Tomorrow? Chapter Eighteen - How Will You Wipe Tomorrow? "The Civic Response & Instability Surveillance and Intervention System (C.R.I.S.I.S) system was first conceived of in the late 90s by the CIA to measure the level of civil unrest in a population. The purpose being to better manipulate public perceptions and measure if and when to shift media attention so as to calm the general populace. In later years, this same system was used by the more city-state aligned nations of North America to warn political entities to keep people calm in the face of the Antithesis threat, scarcity, and civil outcry." --The CRISIS and You pamphlet, 2039 *** Eric seemed to know where he was going, so I continued to follow him. The all-white corridor we were in shifted as he took a turn into a large room with walls lined with floor-to-ceiling posters in glass-fronted frames. Posters of different Samurai, most of them in cool, heroic poses. This was obviously some sort of central hub space, with a dozen corridors meeting in this one room. There was seating room in the middle and not one person sitting there. Instead, the people here were moving around with some speed, though a few stopped to gawk at me. "The Family really is busy," I said. There had to be a hundred people slipping through this room. Corpo sorts that looked like they wanted nothing more than to be behind a desk. There were enough credits spent on suits here to fund a small war in a third-world country. "We are," he said. "But don''t worry, your projects are still flagged as top-priority, even with everything else happening. In fact, they''re more important now." I wanted to believe him, because that would be convenient and nice, but I didn''t grow up with convenient, nice things happening to me most of the time. "Why''s that?" I asked. Eric looked to me, then glanced around the room. "Might I ask you a favour?" he asked. "Sure," I said. "There''s passive listening throughout the building. For security, obviously, but there''s a certain amount of... listening-in that happens as well. Would it be possible for you to... grant us some privacy? Nothing I have to say reflects poorly on the Family, of course, but, you know." "I think I can manage something like that. Or Myalis can, at any rate." I can. Though to avoid suspicion, I''ll merely muddle any currently active recordings. Consider yourself somewhat private. I gestured to Eric. "Go on," I said. The man stared with slightly widened eyes, then nodded. "Thank you. And share my appreciation with your AI as well. Um... yes, well, onto the meat of things, right?" "Uh-huh," I said. "So, the Family have poured ressources into the repair, refurbishment, and replacement of the city''s sewer system, as well as its overall maintenance. We basically strong-armed a government contract to take care of the work in exchange for a fair reimbursement later. Honestly, we''re losing a bit of money on the surface, but I think the good PR and any technology we gain from it will make this worthwhile in the long run. And it''s leading to amicable communications with several corporations throughout the city. A short and long-term gain project like this is just good business." "Yeah, that makes sense. But the way you''re being all cagey tells me that it''s not all good news." Eric rubbed at his chin. "You''re right. The Family... is kind of afraid of you." "What?" I asked, surprised. I mean, on one level, I got it. I had nukes on demand and didn''t shy away from shooting politicians on live TV. That left a mark, I bet. But on the other, the Family dealt with a lot of samurai. Probably hundreds of them across North America alone. Some of those were big names. "You''ve become exceptionally popular, at least locally, and your appearances have encouraged... a certain rise in the amount of vigilantism in the area." I was... just me. Sure, I''d probably made waves, but nothing that big, right? Blinking, I opened a browser on my Augs, then shifted through the massive collection of tabs I had open. Past memes, past lewds, past cute videos I was saving to send to Lucy the next time she was cranky... and finally to the Official Unofficial Samurai Ranking Site. It was a long-ass list of samurai names that you could scroll down for a while, listed by order of current popularity with green and red numbers to the side showing how far up and down someone had moved on the rankings in the last week. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. The site, as far as I could tell, worked by collating polls and checking for the number of times a Samurai''s name showed up on various media sites. There was more to it, of course. Weekly popularity contests, merch sale figures, appearances on the news. I bet that there were ways to game the list, but I also bet that most samurai didn''t give a solitary shit. Some... yeah, I also bet that Emoscythe Mordeath Noir had this list fed directly into her brain with by-the-second updates. She seemed the sort. Speaking of which, as I scrolled down, I saw her in the top three hundred or so. That was damned impressive, considering that the list had something like thirty thousand samurai on it. There were more than that, world-wide, but a lot of samurai kept out of the limelight. Some probably had their AI scrub their media presence too so that they''d remain ghosts, and some probably lived pretty normal lives outside of the occasional outing to fuck up a hive or something. Stray Cat ^ 1278 places I blinked. That was a pretty spectacular jump. It still only placed me a bit about the five thousand mark, but like... fuck, that was huge, wasn''t it? Did this mean that I was a local celebrity now? I was pretty sure that most people south of New Montreal wouldn''t know who I was, but still. "So, being popular suddenly made the Family kick shit into gear?" I asked. "To some extent? To be honest, it''s more like a confluence of factors. Your rising popularity is one, but there''s been a noted rise in tensions in the city. Gang warfare is up seven hundred percent from last month, polls are showing a marked increase in displeasure. Shows and entertainment with violent vigilantism as a main plot point have had a strong increase in viewership." "Oh," I said. So it wasn''t the Family deciding to do good so much as they decided that when shit went down, they wouldn''t be the target of said shit. Which, ironically, involved handling the shit situation. "So how are the sewers coming along?" I asked. "One point five percent of the city-wide sewer network has been restored to full functionality," he said. "Keep in mind that at the start of operations, once we finished inspecting the system, sixty-two percent was deemed operational at full capacity, and some twenty-three percent was deemed... technically capable of functioning." "One percent doesn''t sound like much," I said. "It''s a fair amount, considering the time that has passed," Eric defended. "But we also have to admit that a large part of that increase comes from some simple but necessary repairs that we''ve been able to do relatively rapidly." "Right," I said. "So it''s only going to slow down?" He nodded, even if he looked reluctant to do so. "Basically, yes. The best predictions we have account for a one to two percent per week repair rate." I worked my jaw, then opened the calculator app on my augs. Sixty-two plus twenty-three was... eighty-five and then that minus one hundred... "So we have fifteen percent of the sewer system super messed up, and we''re fixing it at one percent a week?" "More or less. We''re aiming for three percent monthly." "That''s... five months to get the sewers fixed. Hell, five months for just the fucked parts." Eric didn''t seem to know what to say as an excuse, so he just shrugged. "That''s the best estimate we have with current resources. The damage is extensive." "So, more realistically, we''re talking half a year to nine months?" Eric''s lips twitched into the start of a smile that he quickly aborted. "Essentially, yes." "And in that time, a lot of people will be without working plumbing?" That wiped the smile away for real. "Unfortunately. But this really is the best we can do." I kinda believed him. Sure, he might have been bullshitting, but it all sounded plausible enough. I''d have to look and see if progress was actually being made, though. "Well, at least we''re helping some people," I said. "That''s the goal. The Family is working hard on outreach at the moment, to cool down any... unrest in the general populace. We''re working on food distribution, water, and entertainment." "Entertainment?" I asked. "Circus, to go with the bread," he said. "I think that the higher-ups believe that New Montreal can''t afford any major unrest, not at the moment." "Yeah, that makes sense," I said. "So, what''s all this about me being the cause for unrest anyway? I don''t recall encouraging people to get into a brick-slinging mood?" *** Chapter Nineteen - Want To See My Fanart Collection? Chapter Nineteen - Want To See My Fanart Collection? "To ''go viral'' means that a video, image, or piece of information is circulated rapidly online from user to user and platform to platform. But as the modern internet grew and became more segregated, a piece of media that went viral might fail to reach some corners of the internet. Going ''super viral'' means that the meme or piece of information transcends these borders. It is so sharable and so memeable, that it breaks past any artificial delineations designed to keep things apart." -On Super Memes, 2049 *** Eric stared at me for a moment, then started walking again. I hoped to catch up to him. It seemed like he was just giving me a tour of the floor, really. Though he might also have been parading me in front of all his coworkers. I didn''t have a great impression of how the Family''s internal shit worked, but I did have the impression that anyone that worked closely with one or more samurai would quickly climb the corporate totem pole. "Your showing online, just before the Phobos Incident became international news... actually, your warning and call to action is what made it international news. Since then, pundits have been arguing about samurai access to weapons of mass destruction, again, and your video appears in several clips." "So a lot of folks saw that? So what?" I asked. "Well, it was big news in several ways. It went super-viral. A samurai cutting into media feeds is noteworthy in the tech sector, the announcement fit into general news well, the end-of-the-world potential was a hit amongst the religious and the fear-mongering algorithms, and there were several other samurai in the clip, just hanging out in the background, including some unknowns." "Right, I guess that was Gros Baton''s big debut." "His name is still hotly debated online," he said. "Since there''s no primary source confirming it. It''s made him very popular with certain groups." "Certain groups?" I asked. I didn''t want to know, but I had to ask. "There''s a lot of fanart," Eric admitted. I shook my head. I was right, I didn''t want to know. "Okay, so I popped up and that went viral. Shit like that happens all the time. I remember seeing samurai show up on my feeds pretty often growing up if they did something big." "Yes, but this is different," Eric said. "You executed a moderately high-ranking political official on live television. Then there''s your speech at the funeral service for those who passed during the incident. It was heavily televised. Live viewership was in the tens of millions. And your speech, following after Miss Emoscythe Mordeath Noir''s, was spoken in a way that encouraged... dissidents to pick up arms." "Oops," I said. "You''re giving us a lot of work," Eric said. "The Family, most corporations, and the government, work very hard to reduce anti-establishment sentiments and to fold individualism within a certain range of acceptable deviations. You... kicked that out of position, and now there''s a large effort to course-correct, and that effort is being pushed against. This isn''t all on you. There has been a resurgence in anti-government and anti-corporate sentiment that has been growing in the last ten or so years. It''s just that right now, a lot of those sentiments are coming to a head, a boiling point." I rubbed at my face. "Okay. And what do I do about it?" Eric shrugged. "The higher ups won''t give you orders. But if you could avoid making any media appearances, that would be nice." "I''ll see what I can do," I said. "Thank you. Try to especially avoid starting any rebellions?" I snorted, then jumped when I noticed the time on my augs. "Ah, fuck. I''ve got to go. Can''t stick around here for too much longer. Need to pick up my girl in under an hour." "Of course," Eric said. "Let me guide you to the roof. Next time you come over, feel free to send me a message first? Or to Piper, she''s the other agent currently on file, and I don''t mind working with her." "But not others?" I asked. Eric shifted a bit, and some of that awkwardness I''d first noticed in him was back. "Miss Piper is... friendly and capable of sharing. It isn''t everyone who has that same attitude here." Aww, poor moron had a crush. He led me to an elevator then up to the roof-lobby floor where I shook his hand and said goodbye. It had been... productive enough, actually. I''d gotten up to date on what shit was going down. It didn''t look like I was urgently needed either. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. I got on my bike, noted that one samurai car had left, only to be replaced by a sleek little Japanese-looking hover bike that probably belonged to another samurai I didn''t know. Well, whatever. I kicked the bike into gear and sped off to race back home. I got back just as the Bastion was starting itself up, ready to drive itself over to the CIAL campus to pick Lucy up. I paused, opened one of the bay doors on the side, then parked my bike in the back where a few universal clamps came up to hold it in place. The Bastion was moving as I made my way to the cockpit, a hand on the wall to keep myself steady as the ship shook through the air. I sat down in the cockpit, but didn''t bother touching the controls, the autopilot was running already, and I trusted it not to crash me into a building. And if it did, chances were we''d just go through. The Bastion was pretty well armoured. It wasn''t too long before the school came into view up ahead. As the ship circled the large Samurai-Only landing spot, I noticed a small group of people standing not too far off to one side. One of them had a distinctive poof of dark brown hair that I''d recognize anywhere. The Bastion landed with a hiss, and I saw Lucy wave goodbye to the group she''d been chatting with before she ran over. When she came in, I surprised her by wrapping my arms around her shoulders and pulling her in for a kiss. She squeaked in surprise, then melted into my arms. "You scared me!" she said once the kiss ended. "Oops," I deadpanned. Lucy jabbed a finger into my ribs, which really didn''t do much when I was still armoured from my visit to the Family. "I didn''t think you''d come to pick me up yourself," she said. "I found the time," I said with a casual shrug and with no mention of the speed I''d flown earlier or the traffic laws I''d ignored to get here on time. "So, made some friends?" "Yup!" Lucy said, all chipper and happy. "Most of them are from my cooking class, but there''s a couple that I''d met that are from other classes. I need to start prepping for another event like that cookies-and-cupcakes thing I did the other day. People are starting to recognize each other, but we need to push that a lot more." "Uh-huh," I said. I hadn''t let go of the hug yet, and Lucy didn''t seem to mind. "And what''s the end-goal? I mean, you''re socializing, making friends, setting up a big rep, but where are you going with it?" "Oh, that''s an easy one," Lucy said. She leaned up a little and gave my cheek a peck. "When there''s an inevitable uprising, I want to be on the winning side, and that means being just one step removed from the people running it." "Huh... you know, I think I had someone tell me today, very explicitly, not to start an uprising." Lucy shrugged. "So? You''re not doing anything, just being a good samurai and going to school and being all sexy and tough." "I feel like I''m going to get painted by association," I said. "I''ll try to be a bit more subtle, then," Lucy said. "Did anyone ever tell you that you''re really hot?" I asked. Lucy grinned. "You know, I was thinking something real similar. There''s something about a girl in power armour that''s real delicious." I laughed, then scooped Lucy up into a princess carry. She wriggled in my grasp as I brought her to the cockpit by the front. "You are so lucky I have a few last things to take care of," I said. "Or else I''d be having a lot of fun with you right now." "Aww, too busy for little old me?" Lucy asked. "Eh... maybe I can make some time," I said. "I''m good about finding that recently." I soon discovered that the little living quarters tucked into the Bastion had a rather awful fold-out bed. It wasn''t that terrible, but the whole thing bounced uncomfortably as the ship flew, and the mattress was on the thinner side. I didn''t spend too much time concerning myself over that, though. Catherine, as much as I loathe interrupting your... fun, I do have to remind you that you have one final meeting this evening. I groaned. Wasn''t that the meeting with Deus Ex? She''d understand if I put it off a little, right? *** Chapter Twenty - Deus Ex Machinations Chapter Twenty - Deus Ex Machinations "Laziness is the greatest motivator." --Deus Ex, Only words spoken during a press conference before leaving, 2056 *** I should pick up smoking. All the cool old movies had protagonists that would smoke a cigarette in bed after some big sexual conquest, right? Sure, they were in proper beds, not a cot shoved into the corner of a tiny living space, and they weren''t usually doing any sort of conquesting while in a moving vehicle, but I felt like the principle of it stood. "You''re thinking something silly," Lucy said. She reached over and poked my cheek. "I can tell." "No I''m not," I said. She poked me some more. "You are. I can tell." Lucy sat up while smiling, then shivered before reaching over to drape her school uniform''s coat over herself. "Okay. I''m going home. I need a shower and the Kittens have probably gotten into some sort of trouble. You can''t trust Daniel to take care of them this long without something slipping past him." "Yeah, fair," I said. I sighed, then started to look for the armour I''d been wearing before. It was spread out across much of the floor at the moment. Groaning, I decided to give up on the idea. I was home anyway, right? So I picked up the gear and piled it up more or less neatly so that I could carry it out. I wanted a shower too, actually. I got dressed anyway, then picked up the armour and headed out. And that''s the state I was in when I ran into Deus Ex. I blinked, then blinked again as I took her in. Deus Ex was standing in the parking garage, arms crossed and looking mightily unimpressed. She was in an all-white set of armour, plates over white cloth, with a screen on her inner arm and a few ports here and there, and floating next to her were a pair of guns longer than my bike with a bore large enough to fit my head into. "Stray Cat," she said. "Deus," I replied. "Didn''t expect you to show up in person." I shuffled past her, bringing my armour to the garage in the back where I dropped it all onto a workbench. "I''m not," she said as she followed. I half-turned to eye her. "You''re not? Fancy hologram?" "No, this is a clone body," she said. "I left a few of the older models on Earth when I left with my station." "Right," I said. Fuck she could be creepy when she wanted to be, huh? I was basically talking to a puppet, then. Or was it something more complicated than just a puppet? I glanced over at her from the corner of my eye. Deus Ex looked like a precocious young teenager. Chubby cheeks, four-foot-something, no chest. She looked like she was someone''s bratty little sister. I was pretty sure she was at least half a decade older than me. "So, how''d things end up on Mars? I haven''t been paying it as much attention as I probably should." Deus Ex stepped into the workshop, eyes trailing over all the tools and the half-disassembled mecha leg in the middle. "Not too poorly. But I can''t say it went well, either. We lost a dozen good samurai. Some of them were in the top ten or so most powerful of us. The loss is going to take a while to recover from." "Oh. Shit," I said. "It needed to be done," she said simply. "And it has been. Mars'' surface has been turned into glass. The first half metre of topsoil or so, at least. There are a few areas where we need to punch much deeper to root out some hives, and even though we''re done, we''re still monitoring the planet for any potential antithesis growths. They will show up. It''s almost impossible to eradicate an infection fully." "Almost impossible?" I asked. "We don''t want to toss Mars into the sun, so we''re doing what we can," Deus Ex said. "I think that the Protector AI tend to oversell humanity, or any race''s, ability to actually defeat the antithesis. They''re far too persistent to be removed." "That''s fucked," I said. She shrugged. "It is what it is. That does mean that we''ll never run out of work. Ideally, in a few centuries, we''ll be able to just sit back and only venture out to slap down any little surges as they show up. I think that''s how it is for some other civilisations that had a similar program to ours." If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. I rubbed at my chin, then turned and hopped up onto a workbench. "So, other than the loredumping about unimportant shit, why''d you come over?" "I caught up with what you''ve been up to this past week," she said. "Okay. Bit creepy, but go on," I said. "When I first met you, I gave it fifty-fifty odds that you wouldn''t make it through the first day, let alone your first week. And somehow, mostly thanks to making capable friends, you managed. And then you continued to make more capable friends who carried you through." I frowned. "Some of that was on my own merit, right?" I asked. "Now you seem to be forging ties with other groups while building up your own," she continued, entirely ignoring my question. "I don''t think you''re doing it on purpose. I don''t think you do much on purpose, really." "Hey now." "But you''re... charismatic in an animalistic way. I think that''s genuinely useful. You encourage others to act, either by example or via spite, and I think that there''s a genuine space for a samurai with that kind of skill set in the world, especially right now." I shook my head. "Deus, what are you on about?" I asked. "You didn''t come all the way here from Mars to give me an insult sandwich, did you?" Deus Ex pouted, which made her look about... what, fifteen years younger? "No. I came to ask you a favour of sorts, one which will help you as well." "Uh-huh," I said as I crossed my arms. "Go on." "There are a number of responsibilities shared amongst the higher tier samurai of any given region. It''s a way to keep each other accountable. I happen to be the samurai in charge of New Montreal as a whole." "Wait, seriously?" I asked. "Someone has to be." "Yeah, but I wasn''t expecting it to be you," I said. Deus Ex stared, her expression flat. "I''m probably in the top thousand or so samurai on Earth. Near the bottom of that, certainly, but still. There are more than a hundred mega cities on Earth, and most samurai don''t care to be the representative of any of them." I supposed that kind of made sense. "So New Montreal is important?" She snorted. "Deus no," she said. "We''re barely tickling the definition of mega city here, not compared to plenty of other places. New Montreal is only important because we''re north of Mega New York and a few other east-coast actual mega cities. We serve as a wall for the antithesis coming in from the north. We barely produce anything here." "Okay," I said. Felt a little mean to hear my home talked about that way, but she was probably not wrong. "Didn''t know there was such a hierarchy going on." "It''s nothing official. I think one in ten samurai actually care. But for those of us that do, it''s a neat way to keep things organized and functional. In any case, one of the duties of a city representative is caring for and elevating new samurai. I usually make a point of meeting any up-and-comers, so that they at least know to reach out to me if something happens." I nodded slowly. "And that''s it?" "No... I''ve been somewhat neglecting part of my duties while off-world. Fortunately... hmm, how do I put this." She pinched her chin between forefinger and thumb. "I always put one-hundred percent effort into everything I do." "Okay." "Unless there''s any logical way for me to avoid having to do something by foisting the work onto someone else. In which case, I will always do that." "That doesn''t sound like one-hundred percent," I said. Deus Ex shrugged. "I''m only one girl. I can only be in thirty-six places at once." I squinted at her. Was she fucking with me? "Anyway, I''m here to foist some work off onto you." "No thanks," I said. "You don''t seem to understand the current disparity in abilities when it comes to either of our capabilities with regards to refusing work," she said. It took me a moment to untangle that. "Are you saying that you''re better at being lazy than I am?" "Like an amateur next to a master," she agreed. "I''m not doing whatever it is you want," I said. "I made sure to schedule things around your little school outings," she said. "Because I''m nice like that." *** Chapter Twenty-One - Babysitting the Nukes Chapter Twenty-One - Babysitting the Nukes "LF babysitter, 5 kids, no smokers, druggies, college dropouts, or filthy liberals. $7/hr." Facemeta Marketplace post, 2027 *** "If you''re going to make me do your work for you, you''d better have some serious bribes lined up," I said. "My schedule right now is filled to bursting." "So is everyone''s," Deus Ex said. "But I can sympathize a little. I rarely have a day with fewer than eighteen hours of work time lined up in it. Sundays excepting, of course." I wanted to pinch the bridge of my nose. I also wanted to pinch Deus Ex''s chubby little cheeks, but if she didn''t have some sort of pain-regulating cyberware, then I''d eat my hat. I''d have to buy a hat first, but the point stood. "What even is the job?" I asked. "There are half a dozen new samurai around New Montreal, which is a feat. We usually gain one or two a year, but the global incursion and the previous local incursion increased our numbers substantially. Before you there was Gomorrah, and before her Cause Player. There have been more since. Now, telling samurai what to do is a lost cause. We don''t take well to orders." "You don''t say." "Let me rephrase that. We don''t take well to orders unless they''re reasonable and backed with a big stick. In this situation we''re both in right now, I am both very reasonable and have a very big stick." Could I aim the Big Gun at Deus Ex''s station and get away with it? "Right now, with my main body off-planet, the local samurai newbies don''t have any directions to work towards. That has, historically, caused issues." I perked up a little at that. "What kinds of issues?" Deus Ex hummed. "Give someone lots of power, a complete detachment from responsibility, and the drive to act even if there''s no cause for them to act towards, and that person will find something to use their powers on. That usually means massive destabilization. We all hate the corps, but you can only blow up so many skyscrapers before it starts causing issues." "Uh-huh," I said. "And we don''t want that?" "No. The other problem is that new samurai tend to, briefly, believe that they''re immortal or untouchable. Just because higher-tier samurai tend to respond to threats to newbies with violence doesn''t mean that you''re all immune to bullets to the head. Having your death avenged won''t stop you from being dead in the first place." That... was fair. "Okay," I said. "So... what do you want me to do about all of this?" Deus Ex gestured vaguely off to one side. "Babysit." "No," I said. "I''ve done that for most of my life, and it was for actual babies and kids. I''m not going to do it for adults." The little shit had the audacity to roll her eyes. "I meant that figuratively. Really, I just need you to check up on the newbies. Make a point of showing up where they are and make sure they''re not in too much trouble. Maybe direct them towards something constructive to do that won''t get them killed. I did the same for you." I blinked. "Wait! You sent me on a wild goose chase all across the city that second time we met," I said. "Exactly," she said with a nod. "It kept you busy and working on something that was relatively low-level. Low-risk work that was still important and gave you valuable experience." I was very quickly developing a headache. If I actually thought about it... yeah, Deus had helped me. She''d put Lucy and the kittens up in that hotel we stayed at for a while before getting our house. She gave Gomorrah and I a few softball missions, and then told us about Mars before the news broke to everyone else. Fuck, was Deus actually helpful? "You''d be a lot easier to work with if you weren''t such a pain in the ass," I said. "You know, I''ve actually heard something similar before. Never saw the point in complaining about it. I get work done in a rapid and efficient manner. Your whinging changes nothing about that. Besides, what I''m asking you to do is good for you as well." "Yeah?" I asked. "Yes. You''ll be forging alliances and friendships with local samurai who are close to your own rank. You''ve made friends with some that are... to put it lightly, above you. People like Grasshopper and Emoscythe. The cabal of newbies out there will eventually grow as well. It''s a little strange, but we as samurai tend to organize ourselves in little cliques that are more or less generational." Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. I sniffed. "You have a generation as well?" "Yes," she said. "Though... most of those from this region are dead. It''s only me and maybe four, five others now." "Oh," I said. Deus Ex blinked, and I got a ping on my Augs. When I opened it, I found a semi-transparent page appearing over my vision, the window floating a few feet ahead. It was a list. Local Newbies That Need Babysitting Crackshot Cowboy Gros Baton Hedgehog Princess (Knight) Shy Stray Cat Tankette "Why am I on that list? Wait, I get Grasshopper and like Emoscythe not needing any help, they''re established and shit, but why isn''t Gomorrah on here? She''s been a samurai for like, a few weeks more than me." "She''s mature and capable," Deus Ex said. "And I''m not?" I complained. She just stared. "Sam-O-Ray and Cause Player don''t need babysitting, even if they''re not tier three juggernauts. They''ve found their niche and are smart enough not to bite off more than they can chew," Deus Ex said. "The rest... they''re all over the place. Some need encouragement, some will need to be pointing in a workable direction, others might need to be calmed down and told to chill." She shrugged. "You know, I''m not the right kind of person for this," I said. "Gomorrah would be better. And I''m not just saying that to avoid the work." That was a nice bonus. "Yeah, maybe. But Gomorrah isn''t as personable. She might do better with someone like Hedgehog, maybe. He seems like the sort that would take someone serious better, but for the rest? I think you''ll do." "I''ve got school," I said. "I don''t particularly care," Deus Ex replied. I wondered if throttling her clone actually hurt the real her? I settled for giving her the finger. "Fuck off. I''ve got my own shit going on too." "I told you already, I set up a schedule that won''t interfere too much with your stuff. It''s a part-time job at most. And it''s not forever. I''m not dropping all of my responsibilities. When the next generation of samurai show up, I''ll foist them onto someone else." "Wow, you are transparent about this, huh?" I asked. She grinned. "I am nothing if not honest. Anyway, here''s the schedule for the meetings." I got another ping, this time a calendar file with dates and times for various meet-ups. It looked like there was one every free day for the next two weeks. Including tonight. "What the hell? Tonight?" I asked. "Did you have anything else planned?" Deus Ex asked. "Yes! Sex! Lots and lots of it!" I said. The girl''s nose crinkled. "Disgusting," she said. "This is a far better use of your time. There are even better ways to get what you get from sex without having to actually have it." I paused. "What in the fuck are you on about?" I asked. "If you just want pleasure, there''s drugs for that," she said. "Far cleaner and significantly more efficient." "Wow," I said. "I don''t even know where to begin addressing that." "You really don''t have to. In fact, I insist that you don''t. I''ve spoken about it at length with my therapist and we''ve come to the mutual understanding that I''m right about it," she said. I paused, rocking back for a moment. "I don''t think that''s how therapy works? You''re not meant to convince the therapist of anything. It''s not a game." "And that attitude is why I''m always winning and you''re here wasting time with a childless marriage." "I''m not actually married," I said. "And I have like... nine kids and a dog." Deus Ex stared at me some more. "Wow," she said, but she said it in a way that was dripping with sarcasm. "You are a mean little gremlin child," I said. "I''ve been called that too," Deus said. She sighed. "Sorry. I''ve been... stressed? I tend to default to being somewhat rude when there''s a lot weighing on me. It''s a bad habit, but also one of those that''s turned out to be useful at times." And now she was sounding all earnest and real and shit. I sighed. "Fine, I get it," I said. "Heh, you believed me so easily," she said, a smug grin right back in place. "Anyway, tonight you''re working with Shy. Good luck. I''ve got to go. Oh... I figured I ought to pay you for this, since credits aren''t actually worth anything but at your level they might still be useful, so... I don''t know, expect delivery in your account for every hour worked. Anyway, I have more important people to talk to." *** Chapter ??? - Two Weeks Battle Royale II

Chapter ??? - Two Weeks Battle Royale II Cat stood, dusting herself off, eyes flicking around. The wind carried the soft thump of more parachutes landing. Great. She hated this whole thing, but was making at least a passing effort not to let the fact show. Aliens she could handle. They were, in her limited experience, either snarky, too-powerful beings with no sense of common decency. Or they were annoying shits you could handle by shooting a bunch. She wondered if the same applied to whomever kept dragging her and the others out to this kind of ¡®event.¡¯ Yeah, They definitely deserved a good smacking. Then Elaine landed nearby, and Cat refocused on the moment. Or maybe landed wasn¡¯t the right term. Elaine hit the ground like five tons of smug concrete smashing into a fine-china store. The impact made Cat jump, but Elaine just flipped her rainbow-y hair and flicked away a bit of blood that wasn¡¯t hers. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± she said when she saw Cat giving her a flat look. ¡°You try sky-looting three teams before breakfast.¡± Cat raised her hands in surrender. ¡°Whatever you say, fairy-girl.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Elaine started, but she was cut off as Julietta started to move, dissolving into a formless mass of flesh and slithering across the ground before she reformed as a bulging mass of muscle behind some nearby cover. ¡°Incoming,¡± she growled. Cat didn¡¯t ask how she knew. She just turned, guns up, eyes scanning. A mechanical whine echoed above and she said some stuff under her breath that would have her censored in most places in the galaxy. Her handgun went back into its sheath on her thigh and she pulled out an unfolding rifle from the small of her back. It wasn¡¯t much bigger, but bigger was always better when it came to calibers and... also some other things. A squad dropped in hard. A bunch of guys in chrome-black exosuits, jetpacks still hissing, guns already hot. Their faces were hidden by visored helmets, but Cat imagined they were smiling smugly under there. Then one landed too close to Julietta. It was a bad call on his part. Fortunately it was the last call he ever made. She tackled him mid-landing, cracked his armor open like a peanut, and hurled most of his torso into a tree. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Cat stepped forward, leveled her rifle, and opened fire. One shot took out a knee joint. Another blew the pilot¡¯s helmet off. The others took cover fast, but it wasn¡¯t faster than bullets. She started to wonder if the other contestants had anything going for them other than a bit of cool tech and a lack of brain cells. She wasn¡¯t exactly the scariest chick around, but her friends here? Elaine was flinging magic around like tinsel, Julietta was doing... bio things all over the place, and Ariane moved so fast that all she left in her wake were slightly-bloodies giblets. Anyone seeing this and thinking to themselves ¡®nah, I¡¯d beat ¡®em¡¯ was destined to die an unpleasant death in any case. Elaine twirled through the chaos, hands weaving magic like a cat¡¯s cradle. One enemy¡¯s rifle melted into a bubbling mess. Another found his jetpack teleporting off his back and into the sky. Ariane didn¡¯t teleport. She just appeared behind one, gripped his head like an apple, and twisted. Crunch. Splat. Gone. The last mech turned tail. ¡°Coward,¡± Cat muttered with a shake of her head. She was almost tempted to let him go, but... ¡°Myalis, bazooka?¡± Would you like concussive, incendiary, or¡ª ¡°Surprise me,¡± Cat said. That might be a dangerous request, but usually Myalis at least provided something that got the job done. A soft ripple bent the air next to her, space folding like bad origami, then a launch tube slapped into her waiting hands, matte black, ominous as hell, with a little pink bow sticker on the side. ¡°Adorable,¡± Cat muttered as she flipped it open and aimed. The fleeing mech was already jetting toward the tree line, making a real effort of it. It didn¡¯t matter. She fired, and the fast little rocket outpaced lumbering mech in less time than it took to blink. The rocket screamed through the air, then burst mid-flight into a blossom of microcluster charges, each one seeking heat signatures like it had a personal vendetta. The air filled with a thousand booms, each competing with each other for loudness. The mech disappeared. Do did a chunk of the forest. ¡°Well. That was excessive,¡± Cat said. Ariane landed beside her, face and arms soaked in gore. ¡°Effective, though.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t argue with results.¡± Julietta stalked forward, halfway back to her human form, dragging half of a still-twitching exosuit by one foot. She glanced down at it like it offended her. Elaine touched down last, glittering faintly like a human-shaped rave flyer. ¡°That¡¯s seven down. Probably another three dozen teams left. Give or take.¡± Cat exhaled, checked her ammo, and started mentally marking off directions. Tree cover to the north. Rocky outcroppings to the east. Ruined something poking over the treeline... maybe the hotel Elaine mentioned earlier. She wouldn¡¯t mind a nice stay at a five-star, but she suspected that this wasn¡¯t it. They needed to move. The storm clouds on the horizon were curling inward, roiling with an unnatural energy. Game-master bullshittery. Time was ticking. As the group started to move, Cat lagged half a step behind. Just enough distance to be in her own head. She looked around at the shattered ground, the smoking craters, the chopped meat in metal suits they¡¯d just turned into background scenery. This wasn¡¯t a battlefield. It was a sandbox for whatever alien sociopaths were running this show. Cat tilted her head up, squinting at the blue-glass sky. ¡°¡Wonder if this place could survive a nuke,¡± she muttered. Myalis didn¡¯t answer. Chapter Twenty-Two - Shy-Rise Living Chapter Twenty-Two - Shy-Rise Living "The definition of hikikimori is... hikikomori, a Japanese phenomenon, describes a condition of extreme social withdrawal where individuals, often young adults, withdraw from society and remain isolated in their homes for extended periods, sometimes for months or years. S-so I''m not one of those, because, uhm... I go out. Sometimes." --Shy, during her first and last live stream, 2056 *** I took a quick shower, with the water on cold. It was refreshing and I needed it to get my thoughts straight. Almost as soon as I was done, I got into some clean samurai clothes, then jumped back into my power armour. The last thing I did before I was out the door was give Lucy a parting kiss. "Don''t be gone too long, we do have school in the morning," she said. "Yeah, alright," I replied. It wasn''t until I was in the Bastion that I realized I had something of an issue. "So... I''m supposed to check up on Shy, but where does she even live?" I asked. Ordinarily, I wouldn''t be able to tell you. There are polite restrictions preventing me from divulging the location of another vanguard, even if you were to suddenly ask nicely. However, Deus Ex''s AI, Lynus, left us an itinerary but also a list of known housing locations. Some of the Vanguard have been informed that you''d be meeting them, including Shy. "Oh," I said. "Well, that''s moderately convenient. I''m still on the fence about doing this. I want to show the little gremlin up by not following her script." That''s well within your rights. She doesn''t have authority over you. "Yeah, I know," I said. "Well, except the authority that comes from orbital bombardment, but I don''t see her actually doing that. Like... fuck, I think I''ll go along with it, because some of the people on that list I actually care for, you know? Shy... eh, she was nice enough, I don''t mind checking up on her, but Crackshot? Tankette, even Princess and Knight? Gros Baton needs someone to kick him in the pants, and Hedgehog needs someone to remind him to live a little." Then do this as an excuse to meet with allies instead of as a chore. I nodded. Yeah, that was a nice way of framing it. "Okay. Shy''s address," I said. "Can you punch it into the navigation thingiewhatsit?" I asked as I took a seat in the pilot''s chair. It shifted to accommodate my larger size in the power armour. The Bastion rumbled out of the parking garage and slowly rose up and over the city''s traffic. I glanced at the navigation screen to my side and hummed. Shy apparently lived near the city centre, where a group of nine big residential buildings were clumped together. They were some of the older mega buildings in New Montreal, but also pretty nice places to live. The upper quarter or so of those buildings were basically their own sort of high-end living space, with bridges linking them all together. There were luxury shopping things and hospitals and all sorts of shit. I''d seen some Living in Luxury style reality TV with Lucy that covered some people living in the topmost floors, in the big penthouses. The rest of the building was... normal megabuilding. Maybe a bit old, but there were only so many ways to cram ten thousand homes into one building. I flew across the city, then started to look for a place that could accommodate the Bastion. It was a bit big, but there were some parking garages in and around the mega building that Shy lived in. It wasn''t until I plugged in her actual home address that I realized something, though. Her address was in the single-digit floors. On a building as large as one of these, that was basically the basement. Shaking my head, I moved to one of the top-floor parking garages. It was a high-end one, for the rich CEO types that lived in one of the penthouses. I flew the Bastion in past armed security and luxury super cars and found a spot not too far from an elevator bank. "Alright, here goes," I muttered to myself as I stood up. I wondered if I should go in armed but... this was a house call, and Shy presumably knew about it. So I kept it to just my Trench Maker. I even left the Void Terminus behind. The ramp on the side of my ride lowered, and I stepped out to be greeted by an unarmed security guard who looked nervous, despite his armour and gear. "Hello, ma''am," he said. "I''ve been told to welcome you to Parking Level Elite Premium Five. And also to ask if you''re here to kill any of our VIPs?" If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. "Huh? Nah, I''m here to visit the samurai who lives here." The man blinked. "There''s a samurai who lives in this building?" he asked. "Never you mind that," I said. "Keep an eye on my ride for me, will you? Point-defence is on, so you might wanna let any rich kid who wants to take a selfie know that it''s at their own risk." "Y-yes ma''am," he said. Poor rent-a-cop, I almost felt bad for him. I patted him on the shoulder on the way by, then made my way over to the nearest elevator. Surprisingly, it led all the way through the building. I was used to seeing sets of floors separated with their own overlapping elevators, that way no one from the basement could just ride up to the CEO''s front door and knock to ask questions without zig-zagging past a few security checkpoints. The building might have been showing its age. There were definitely signs. The floorboards were scuffed, and the ad screens in the elevator didn''t all match. They were all functional though, so someone was paying for maintenance. The ride down was quiet once I unleashed the full might of Myalis on the jingle-generators and shut them all up. The elevator dropped, and dropped, the floors going from triple digits to double, then finally slowing down to a stop at the single digit mark. The doors opened, and I stepped out into a well-lit corridor, with... more or less clean walls and flooring that wasn''t peeling too much. The space was definitely residential. As I stepped out, I saw one door that had been left open leading into a tiny little apartment space. A living room, a kitchenette, a bathroom without a door, and a bed. All with a handful of square feet to spare and not a single window. There were stenciled door numbers next to every entrance, so I started to follow them, slowly climbing towards the number for Shy''s apartment. I was kind of worried. What if Shy, who''d apparently been a samurai for two years, lived in a little dump of an apartment? I mean, more power to her, I supposed, but... it felt wrong for a samurai to be living in the dirt. Not that we were so special we deserved ivory towers but... I don''t know. I''d always pictured samurai alongside super celebrities, only instead of being made in Italy, their supercars were alien-made. A poor samurai? I mean, I supposed it was possible if they were starting off. I was a poor-as-fuck samurai in the first week or so, but to stay poor? That would require some effort. Shy didn''t strike me as someone who''d want to stay that way, though. I noticed as I went along that there were gaps in some walls where doors had been. They were covered by plaster and repainted, but some of the painting was cheap and I could tell where the doors had been. And then I rounded a couple of corners and came up to Shy''s door. It looked like any other, though she had a doormat on the floor. Leave the Package and Run. "Cute," I said before knocking. The door opened almost as soon as my suit''s knuckles touched it, and I flinched, almost reaching for my gun, but... well, there was Shy, standing in the entrance. She was out of her samurai gear, mostly. A girl with long black hair and a pair of comfortable looking pyjamas with a loose top. The loose top had my ''logo'' on it. She also wasn''t wearing shoes, but I supposed that wasn''t too weird in her own home. "H-hello," she said before making a weird flat-palm up gesture with her right hand. Wait... was that ''welcome'' in sign? "Yo," I said. "Come in! Please," she said before darting back and out of the entrance. "I... bought food. Uhm... I can''t cook. But there''s refreshments." She gestured to the side where there was a table. And it was covered in seven different flavours of soft drinks and a lot of snacks. Did she rob a vending machine? The entrance to her place was... way larger than I expected it to be, actually. It looked like she had two floors. Even if they were the squished low-ceilinged floors of a mega building, having two of them and the space to leave one open made the room seem larger. "Nice place," I said. "Thank you," Shy said. And then she didn''t say anything else. She just stood there, in her entrance room, barefoot on faux-marble floors, staring at me. Why did I agree to this? *** Chapter Twenty-One - Fuzzies, Fries, Flaking Chapter Twenty-One - Fuzzies, Fries, Flaking "Bio-Meat: Nectar of the Gods is the newest and greatest skin care cream from Geniricorp! Only the best Antithesis-extract to make your skin shine!" --Genericorp Ad, 2031 *** The elevator dinged as it came to a stop on our floor. I closed my eyes, then opened them again. I was tired. Not stupidly-tired, I''d woken up late after all, but still, it had been a long day. I was itchy, I had been running around for hours, and I was sore in a few places that I wasn''t used to being sore in. That last bit was probably from riding my mech around so much, it had me sitting in a weird way and tensing some of the muscles in my core for a while. Well, whatever. The door opened onto my floor, and I started to push in only to stop as someone was standing in my path. Lucy, and she was wearing the furriest outfit I''d ever seen. She was wearing a sort of jumpsuit made of fuzzy material, with a large hoodie tugged up and over her head. It had large, floppy cat ears, and a string of bedazzled text across her chest that read "The Fuzziest." "Oh, wow," I said. Lucy grinned from ear to ear, the cat who''d caught... the other Cat? I was too tired for analogies. "Do you like it?" she asked. "I really want to hug you," I admitted. "Good! Come." Lucy reached out and grabbed my hand, my real one, in hers. She tugged me along after her, and I finally noticed that the pyjamas had a foot-long tail at the back. It was stumpy, and very cute. "I have food for you!" "Oh god, food," I murmured. As Lucy escorted me to the kitchen and I discovered four bags from four different fast food places, I discovered that I could not be any more in love. "You''re beautiful," I said. Lucy''s smile, somehow, turned even more smug. "Damn right," she murmured. "Want to know what I''m wearing under here?" I thought I was too tired to be horny, but as it turned out, I was very wrong. Maybe I was more thirsty than hungry after all. The food was junk. Burgers and fries and pseudo-chicken sticks with little plastic sachets of dipping sauce across seventeen flavours. I stuffed my face while Lucy relocated herself across from me. She stole the longest fry from one of the packets and started nibbling on the end. "Not eating?" I asked. She shook her head. "I sat at home all day, I don''t want to get fat eating all... seven thousand calories here. You at least have the excuse that you''re moving around a lot." "Hmm," I said. Lucy had always been good about that kind of stuff; dieting and the like. I was just blessed with a good metabolism and the jitters that kept me moving all the time. "This is so bad for me, isn''t it?" I asked as I chewed on what I was pretty sure was a fried stick of fried cheese. Double-fried. I could taste the cholesterol and it was beautiful. "Busy day, then? You mentioned newbies?" "Oh yeah," I said. "I think... one of them''s like, off her rocker. Girl by the name of Princess." "That''s cute, at least," Lucy said. "Yeah. She''s cute too, I guess. A bit gangly, but growing into it. She''s also got crazy eyes." "Ohhh, crazy eyes," Lucy said. "Hot but dangerous." I nodded. "Exactly. She''s got this weird obsession with me." "She''s the one who''s sister''s father you shot?" Lucy asked. She''d been paying attention to our call earlier, then. I hummed. "The mayor''s daughters," I said. Lucy gasped. "No! That''s... no way! That''s some soap opera shit, Cat." "I know!" I said before shoving a burger into my mouth. It took some chewing before I could continue. "If there''s any amount of clones, or resurrections, or... people getting pregnant after cucking someone, I''m quitting this business." Noted. I blinked. What did that mean? But Myalis didn''t seem ready to explain. I finished my burger while going over my day. I hadn''t realized that it was this stressful until I could literally feel the weight lifting off of my back. All Lucy had to do was smile, steal a few more fries, and ask a few probing questions. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. She was too good for me. "Shower next?" she asked. She fluttered her eyes in a way that made my heart flutter too. "Only if you''ll join me," I said with a grin. Lucy laughed, then ran ahead of me. I caught up with her in our bedroom, grabbing her from behind in a hug that pulled her close to my chest. I peppered her neck and the side of her face with kisses while she continued to laugh, then Lucy turned in my grasp and started to remove my suit. Which was when we both realized that the new skin I was wearing came with a nasty side-effect that I''d kinda forgotten about. Notably, that my old skin was peeling right off of me. "Oh, fuck," I said. The inside of my suit was covered in a fine, goopy dust. I retched. I was expecting to maybe be a little sweaty but... not this. "Oh, that''s nasty," Lucy said. "Yeah, sorry, shower first, and alone. I''m gonna go get like... a sponge. Also, I''m not cleaning your suit!" The last was called back over her shoulder as she slipped away. "Fuck, I forgot," I muttered as I slipped over to the bathroom. There was no way I was gonna let all of this skin fall off onto the floor. That was gross. "Hey, my suit''s waterproof, right?" Yes. From the inside and without. "Great," I said as I started the shower and got in fully-clothed. The fact that there was some antithesis blood that pooled off of me was also kind of gross, but not nearly as bad. I stripped, aware of the strange and disgusting pull of my suit against my skin. Lucy returned brandishing a sponge that I recognized from next to the sink (which meant it had never been used) and... "Is that a toilet cleaner?" I asked. "It''s a necessary evil," Lucy said. "Is it new?" I asked next. "New enough?" "No!" I said, putting my metaphorical foot down. My actual feet were still caught in the legs of my skinsuit. The irony of that name wasn''t escaping me at the moment. I managed to slough out of the suit and let it flop wetly in the corner of the shower. I''d give it a good hose-down later. I did accept the sponge from Lucy and started to scrub away at myself. It stung like a bitch. "You never told me of the downsides of this," I said to Myalis. It''s a moderate amount of dirtiness. The skin was your skin just moments ago and is no more dirty than you usually are. It''s mostly inert organic material. Nothing you need to worry about. "It''s still gross," I said. "Is it at least done? The skin-shedding, I mean." It should be. Your newer, more resilient skin will, of course, shed at a much-reduced rate. Wow, I never wanted to have this conversation again. The only plus side was that I was basically hairless now. No more shaving my legs, which was nice. I settled under the warm water, then once I was done scrubbing myself raw, I tossed the sponge aside and punched the air a few times. "What are you doing?" Lucy asked from just outside the shower. "I''ve got new nerves," I said. "I''m testing them a little. I mean, I''ve had them for a day now. I think I''ve just... gotten used to them? It doesn''t feel that different." Humans will adapt to such changes with startling rapidity. I wasn''t so sure about that. It had taken me months to get used to only having one arm. Then again, maybe that was pretty fast? "Yeah, I guess this feels pretty good," I said. "I mean, I don''t mind the show," Lucy replied. "Very jiggly. They should put naked shadow-boxing on TV." "Bet you anything they have," I said. Lucy didn''t take the bet. I stumbled out of the shower and into Lucy who was holding out a big towel from the ends. She wrapped me up in a hug, climbing onto the tips of her toes to smush her cheek against mine. "Thank you," she said. "For what?" I asked. "For making it back safe again." She turned her head a little and gave me a peck on the cheek. "You smell much nicer now," she said. "Not that I really mind it when you smell like gunpowder and smoke. It''s kinda hot." "Is it, now?" I asked. "Mhm. I never did show you what I was wearing under these pyjamas, did I?" Lucy asked. It was nothing. *** Chapter Twenty-Two - Lazy Pillow Talk Chapter Twenty-Two - Lazy Pillow Talk "Just because a Samurai has an impossibly powerful AI at their beck and call does not mean that the impossibly powerful AI is there to do the Samurai''s bidding. They''re kind of smart enough to not care about little human issues." --Three Swipes, 2034 *** So, as it turned out, having whole new nerves made sexy-time with Lucy a whole lot more... intense than usual. Which might have explained why I woke up to find Lucy sitting up against the top of the bed, looking impossibly smug even though her hair was a mess and her new fluffy pyjamas were stretched out. "Good morning," Lucy said. "Or should I say ''oh god oh god'' morning?" "Stooooop," I whined as I turned over and buried my face into Lucy''s stomach. The pyjamas really were sinfully soft. Maybe the new skin helped with that too, or the nerves. In either case, I never said no to the opportunity to rub up against Lucy. "Do you have a long day planned today?" Lucy asked. "No, I''m staying in bed all day," I said. "And tomorrow too, and the day after. In fact, I''m just not leaving." I can see that quickly growing unsanitary. "Shush, Myalis, you''re a key part of this plan," I said. Lucy giggled, which made her abs bounce. Her hand alighted on my head and she started to comb her fingers through my hair. "I don''t think we can stay in bed forever. What will we do for food?" "Order out," I said. "It''s easy. The kittens can carry it to us." Lucy hummed. "Okay, and exercise? We''re going to grow all weak if we stay in bed all day." I turned my head so that I could meet her eyes. "I can think of one or two ways to do cardio in bed," I murmured. Lucy laughed and poked my cheek. "Silly. What about the washroom?" I groaned. "Diapers?" "Ew, Cat, that''s gross," Lucy said. I''m assuming some elaborate system of catheters and a cocktail of medication is unfavourable? "Oh, no, that''s... Myalis, you''re ruining my plans," I said as I spun over. Now my head was on Lucy''s lap. The bed was so big that my feet weren''t even over the edge even though I was parallel to Lucy on it. Good. I don''t want a lazy Vanguard. "Is Myalis being a bully?" Lucy asked. Tell her the truth. "Yes," I said. "She doesn''t want me to spend the rest of my life in bed, Lucy. She doesn''t love me the way you do." "I don''t know, I think I''m okay with you not spending your life in bed too," Lucy said. I gasped and pressed a hand over my heart. "Lucy, no," I said. "I wouldn''t be alone. You''d be in bed with me forever too!" "But I have to pee," Lucy whined. "Nope! No leaving, you''re stuck here forever. I said so, and I''m bigger and stronger and I know all of the spots where you''re ticklish." I wiggled my fingers and Lucy gasped at the betrayal. Suffice to say, it took another hour before we got out of bed, and it really only happened because Lucy was cry-laughing and had to run to the washroom. I checked the time on my augs as I sat on the edge of our bed. "So, what''s on the agenda for today?" I asked. This might surprise you to learn, but I''m not actually your secretary. "Urgh, I know. I should buy like, some secretary software or something." I could get you something like that. The Scheduling Software catalogue is a mere fifty points, and the most basic software package is relatively inexpensive. I flopped backwards onto the bed so that I was staring at the ceiling again. "Why is that even a thing?" I asked. Because it might be useful? Logistics are important. "I guess. I meant more... like, there''s catalogues for all sorts of things, right? But aren''t most of them for killing aliens and keeping people alive?" Of course not. Those are merely the catalogues most frequently purchased and used by Vanguard, which only makes sense seeing as how the average Vanguard spends a statistically important amount of time in and around combat. The actual marketplace contains trillions of non-combat related items. From home goods to foods to comfort items. "So do, like, the average citizens of elsewhere have the same access I have?" I asked. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. No. That would be irresponsible. Well, that was something. I flexed and sat up again, then finally stood. It was ten minutes to noon, which meant that if I didn''t get up and moving now I wouldn''t be able to claim to have started my day in the morning. "Alrighty," I said. "Breakfast, while it''s still technically time for that, then... shit, I have a lot to do today, don''t I?" I wasn''t sure where to start. Checking up on the newbies was somewhere on the list, but they didn''t need me to mother them, and I''d be going back to Saint-J¨¦rome tomorrow. I was sure they could manage to burn the place down while I wasn''t there to keep an eye on them, but I doubted it. Tankette and Hedgehog were too responsible. So, more local problems, then. The sewers needed checking up on, the Family needed to be poked at to make sure they weren''t fucking up, and my prosthetics clinic a floor down had to be looked into. Yeah, that all made some sense, but probably not in that order. Clinic first, since it was an elevator ride away and I could check up on it relatively quickly. It''d be one thing off the list right away. "Ah, fuck, I need to look into Racoon too," I muttered. She''s in the building now. I blinked, then tapped into my augs. Myalis, being somewhat helpful for a non-secretary, pulled up Racoon''s location which was in the armoury next to the matter reconfiguration machine. She was glaring at a heap of fuzzy pyjamas and stacking them off to the side. Alright, new plan! But first, food. Lucy was already cooking things in the kitchen, humming a happy little tune and shaking her hips from side to side while pre-made omelette mix fried and popped in a pan on the stove. I watched her hips swaying, and the little tail on her pyjamas bounced from side to side for a while before I came up behind her and gave her a hug. "Hungry," I said. "You are so whiny today," she said as she tilted her head back to give me a kiss. "I''m suffering from success," I said. "It''s unbelievably hard." "I bet," she said. "Now scooch, and grab a plate, this is almost done." I grabbed a bowl instead, the superior food receptacle, and gladly accepted the omelette Lucy rolled into the bowl. I poured an unhealthy amount of ketchup on top of it all before digging in. "Plans for the day?" Lucy asked. She sat across from me and I was momentarily distracted by the zipper on the front of her pyjamas being very open. "Yeah, a few things to look into. The clinic downstairs, the sewer situation. Shit that needs to be watched before it falls apart." "Oh, don''t forget the imminent end of the world," Lucy said. "With that Phobos rock." "Oh yeah, that too," I agreed. I hoped that someone had come up with a plan for that already. It kind of felt like it was big enough that it was a problem way out of my jurisdiction. I finished shovelling food into my mouth, then wiped my face clean. "I''m gonna get dressed," I said. "Then... I think I might bully Racoon into coming with? That girl needs a good influence in her life." "And that''s you?" Lucy asked teasingly. "I came out alright." I said with a grin. Of course, as I went to get dressed, I discovered the skinsuit I''d left in the bathroom, still full of... me. That wasn''t going to cut it. Sure, I could clean it, but nothing short of Delilah going at it with her flamethrower would leave that clean enough for me. "Hey, I bought a blueprint for skintight armour, right?" I asked. You did. Specifically for Racoon to armour herself. Right. There''d been some vague plan to make okay-enough armour available for anyone that might need it. "Well, might as well check in on that printer after all. I don''t think I ever had to use it myself, now that I think about it." Rac was still in the printer room when I came in. She blinked and stared at me, then nodded. "Hi," she said. "Hey," I replied. "I need a new set of armour. Are you using the machine?" "I''m... not? I was going to make bullets, but that can wait. Are you just wearing a t-shirt?" "I slept in it," I said. "It''s past noon." "I had a long night?" Maybe convincing Rac that I was put-together enough to serve as a good influence was going to be harder than I had initially expected. *** Chapter Twenty-Three - Dr. Myalis, Medicine AI Chapter Twenty-Three - Dr. Myalis, Medicine AI "The International Air Quality Index, IAQI, or "Yacky", is an internationally accepted standard for the air quality in and around various metropolitan areas across the world. For example, Paris, France has an IAQI of 4.5, whereas Novaya Moskva has an IAQI of 5.1. The pre-Antithesis Chad had an IAQI of 5.2, and the current North African Exclusion Zone has an IAQI of 7.6. In contrast, the Antarctic circle, unaffected by most pollutants and about as pure as air can be on Earth--mostly seeing as how the air pockets in that region come from freshly melting ice!--has an IAQI of 2.1! Pure, fully-filtered air in a medical operating room has an ideal IAQI of 2.0!" --International Air Quality Index brochure, 2054 *** I eyed Rac properly for a minute or so. I''d like to think that I was pretty decent at sniffing out when someone wasn''t in the best of shape. Rac looked... well, not that bad. She''d slept recently, judging by the lack of bags under her eyes. Still, she still looked like she was too thin, and too small for her age. "Have you been eating?" I asked. "Yeah," she said, instantly sounding defensive in a way that told me she wasn''t. Or maybe... "Like, actual food?" Rac crossed her arms. "Coco always made sure that we ate before and after a mission," she said. "She had these disgusting protein-shakes she insisted I drink." Coco, the large gorilla-modded woman who''s crew Rac had joined. There was a lot of past-tense in that whole statement. "Are you still working with her and the others? Spider and... what was that other guy''s name? The one you had a crush on?" "I didn''t have a crush on anyone," she lied. "And it was Garter." "Was?" Rac crossed her arms. "Was." I decided not to poke at that too much, it felt like she might be a bit raw about it still. So instead I walked over to the printer and tapped the touch-screen on the front of it. The printer had a pretty easy UI, with no ads popping up or demands to join some subscription or whatever. It didn''t take much to navigate the menus over to armours, then armoured skinsuits. The problem was when I clicked on one of the options that looked decent and was then prompted to fill in some ''basic'' information. Information like my bust size, waist size, the circumference of my thigh, around my knee, my calf, the length of each leg, the kind of arch on my foot... honestly I just kept scrolling down in growing horror. This was asking for about eighty measurements. "Oh, yeah, it''s like that," Rac said. "I have a measuring tape somewhere." "Why?" I asked "Because it''s not one-size fits all?" Rac asked. "It''s made for one person only." "Damn, bespoke shit huh? Actually, that''s kind of what I''ve gotten used to with Myalis... speaking of which. Myalis, bit creepy to ask, but do you have my measurements?" I don''t think it''s necessarily creepy in context. You wouldn''t think that a medical professional being aware of your blood sugar or cholesterol levels or body weight is ''creepy'' would you? "Yeah, but you''re not my doctor. Not that I''ve ever had one. Wait, are you what it''s like to have a doctor?" I asked. Rac was giving me a look now, but I ignored it. Let me just input the data for you. The page I was on auto-filled and I smiled smugly at the victory before pressing on print. The machine clunked, then hummed, and I got to see a 3d scan of the skinsuit being made on the screen. It was pre-folded into a small package already. A timer popped up, and I blinked at it. "Forty minutes?" "That seems reasonable?" Rac said. "It''s fast for a print of something that''s that good." "Yeah, but that''s forever. Urgh. Come on, Rac, you need to eat, and I don''t feel like waiting alone." Rac''s expression was unreadable as I tugged her along after me. We returned to the main part of the house, then into the kitchen. It was mostly empty, except for a single kitten sitting at the island in the centre of the room and staring off into space. "Heya, Nose," I said. Nose turned my way, then smiled. "Hi Cat," he said. "Hi Rac. Are you becoming a kitten too?" "No," Rac denied immediately. "Okay," he said. "Cat, you need to help me." If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "With what?" I said as I abandoned Rac by the counter and opened the fridge. It was filled to the brim with leftover bags from about seven different delivery places. Interestingly, one of them was from the Burlington branch of Lucy''s Kittens. Did... did they do delivery all the way here? Nose took a deep breath from his, well, nose, then turned to face me. "The others don''t want to play in the same room as me anymore. I have to sit here and play on my augs. Bargain started it." "That sounds dickish, what, you letting some nasty farts rip in the same room as them?" I asked. Was Nose the one who was lactose intolerant? Not that we got lots of stuff to eat with actual milk in it. Nose shook his head. "No! Just because I sneezed in his face." "That''s disgusting," Rac said. "It was an accident!" Nose replied. "I''m not used to my nose tingling so much!" "Was it just the one time?" I asked. He squirmed in his seat. "They kicked me out after the sixth... seventh? I don''t know, I wasn''t counting." "Yeah, gonna agree with Rac on this one, that''s nasty," I said. "Did you at least cover your mouth?" "It''s too sudden," he complained. "Daniel told me to wear a mask, but I hate those." It could be an after effect of his healing. From the records I have, Nose''s olfactory system had a significant amount of damage, both from his environment, poorly implemented stopgap cures, and from genetic damage caused to him before birth. The nanorepair suite that cured him also likely left his nerves somewhat raw. I nodded as I continued to search for something to eat. How could the fridge be so full and yet so empty at the same time? "Myalis says that it''s because your nose is too new," I said. That is inaccurate. "It''ll probably pass in a bit. Maybe go take some air to burn your new nerve endings?" I would strongly suggest the opposite. The air quality of New Montreal is exceptionally poor. Given time he will likely lose the reflexive sneezing action. It should be fading already. "Actually, scratch that. Just... keep on keeping on, and stop sneezing in people''s faces. Learn to cover up." Nose grumbled, but he didn''t gainsay me about it. "Ah, come on, the others won''t kick you to the curb about it, they''re just being dicks. If they don''t stop you can hire Rac here to kick their asses. She''s a big fancy merc you know? I bet she''d work for food." "I... wouldn''t," she said, very unconvincingly. I grinned as I laid out a healthy breakfast for Rac and she eyed the food as if she was starving and hadn''t eaten in a week. "Let''s see about that. What were your plans for the day, by the by?" "I didn''t have much?" she said, uncertain. "Cool! You can tag along, then." "Is that smart?" she asked. "You''ve got some armour, right? Carry that big gun of yours and get some face covering on and no one will mess with you." "You can''t just go anywhere while armoured and armed," she said. I snorted. "It''s easier to get some places with arms and armour," I said. "But in any case, you''ll be with me. No one will bother you." "Why do you want me to come?" she asked. That actually gave me pause. Did I need Rac to come along? No, not really. In fact, it might slow me down and complicate things, if anything. On the other hand, I wouldn''t mind the company and... I liked Rac. She reminded me of my second favourite person; myself. Only somehow Rac''s situation was even worse, because I at least had Lucy and the other orphans to lean on and give me a purpose, and Rac had nobody. "Just... trust me?" I said. I didn''t have a good reason, really, but it might be good for her anyway. Open some doors, meet some people, maybe give her the contacts and know-how she''d need to do... whatever it was she was aiming for. Something told me that Rac wouldn''t be able to hang around here forever without developing a bit of empathy. Maybe this would get her to finally open up and help others along the way? Or something like that. Honestly, I kind of just wanted company, and bringing Lucy along would be a recipe for disaster. Gomorrah was busy with her own stuff, and the Kittens were mostly too young. Daniel could come, maybe, but I got the impression he was into his own stuff. I nodded, confirming my choice. "Yup! This is gonna be a fun afternoon, trust me," I said. *** Chapter Twenty-Four - The Second Hand Clinic Chapter Twenty-Four - The Second Hand Clinic "Insurance got you down? Try Insur-Insurance! New from Divided Health Group! Our new Insur-Insurance program kicks in the moment any of your normal insurance programs fail to cover your insurance needs! We cover 100% of legal fees and will do our best to assist you in combating your insurer to get what you paid for!" --Divided Health Group Ad, 2027 *** Once I made sure Rac was fed, took care of Nose''s problem like a champ, and then took five minutes to squeeze into my new skinsuit armour, I was mostly ready to go. I strapped on my Trenchmaker to my thigh, got an armoured coat on--I''d be moving around a lot and power armour was a bit much--and then clipped my sword to my side, in case I needed to be intimidating. "Ready to go?" I asked as I slipped out of the bedroom. "I''ve been ready for an hour," Rac said. She was leaning against a wall, arms crossed and looked frustrated as all hell. "You haven''t told me where we''re going yet." I nodded, then stopped in front of her and looked Rac up and down. She was wearing a patch-covered faux-leather jacket. The kind that wasn''t even trying to hide that it wasn''t made from a dead animal. The patches weren''t to look cool, they were functional. Still, even with the stains and all, the jacket came off as... scrappy. She had shorts on under that, and one of Lucy''s T-shirts. This one with a winking cat face and text that said Strut My Way. I wasn''t even sure what that meant. Under all that, and sticking out to her ankles and wrists, was a skinsuit. The armoured sort, with some light padding on the knees. Big boots too, with a knife stuck into the side of one of them. Yeah, she looked like a new samurai. If no one poked at her disguise too hard, or questioned her, or tried to hack her augs. "Hey, Myalis, did I ever buy new augs for the Kittens?" I asked aloud. "Should I get a blueprint for that kind of thing?" You did. Your current fabricator won''t be able to produce augmentations. While it can make small-scale circuitry, the level of detail needed to make an augment that fits within a person is beyond the capabilities of the machine. Strictly speaking, it could make augmentations at the level you''d expect to find on the market right now, but it couldn''t make them easily installable the way those you''ve purchased for yourself are. That was too bad. Lucy and I had talked a little last night, and her project in Burlington was somehow still going strong. The city was mostly secured now, with no incidents of aliens showing up to eat anyone in almost three days. Still, the Kittens militia was growing as a sort of community centre type thing. Lucy was making and shipping crap their way whenever she could. Usually one small box of random crap every day. She said it kept them happy, even if there was no way the stuff she sent was more than a drop in the bucket. Now, with the fabricator being used for prosthetics, Rac''s stuff on the side, Lucy''s constant stream of T-shirts and fuzzy pyjamas... Yeah, I had enough pull here to start a small business just printing things full-time. Maybe I could get Daniel and the other kittens in on it too. They''d need jobs at some point. Rac was taking care of it for now, but right now it was just the one machine. "Anyway," I said with a big stretch. "Let''s head out?" "Head out to where, exactly?" Rac asked. "First, one floor down. I want you to meet See-Three. She''s the chick in charge of the prosthetics centre we''re setting up." Rac eyed me, but didn''t gainsay me as we moved over and into the elevator. One floor down, as promised, and we were on that open floor with the gutted offices. It didn''t all look bad, though. Someone had pushed some furniture around since I''d last been down here and another someone had gone at the floors with a mop and had assaulted the carpets with a vacuum. The clinic was just around the corner from the elevator, and I paused along with Rac to take it in. There was a new window at front with an arching, old-timey logo etched into the glass. The Cat''s Paw Prosthetics Clinic. "Huh," Rac said. "You did this?" "Nope! Well, I mean, it happened because of me, but mostly because I fucked up and rushed to fix that fuckup. Actually, you know what, I take none of the blame. Someone else fucked up and I had to clean it up, but I didn''t do a great job of it. One thing led to another, and I figured I owed a lot of people some new limbs." Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. "I''ve been printing them like you asked," Rac said. "There must be a couple hundred made by now." "Yeah," I said. "Now, let''s see if they''re being put to good use?" We walked over to the clinic and stepped in. The lobby was clean, which was nice. Obviously it was the same decor that had been used for the office here before, but that wasn''t all that bad for a clinic. Some chairs were filled with a few scruffy looking guys and one or two people that looked... like ordinary folk, really. There wasn''t a secretary behind the counter, but I knew we were seen when See-Three came rushing into the room from the back. "Stray Cat," she said. "Hey," I replied. "Uh, this is Rac, the girl who''s been printing things for me upstairs. Rac, this is See-Three, she does prosthetics." That last was probably obvious. See-Three''s right arm was currently missing from the elbow-down, replaced by... some contraption with about fifteen little articulated arms with different nibs on the ends. Plus, the face. See-Three''s triple-optical look was hard to misplace. "Pleasure, I hope you don''t mind if we don''t shake?" "That''s fine," Rac said. She looked a bit uncomfortable at all the naked cyberware on display. "So, is this a check up?" See-Three asked. I nodded. "I wanted to make sure things were still good here," I said. "Are they?" She grinned. "They are, come on back, I''m just finishing up an install. We still lack staff. I''ve got a few friends who are into cybermodding as a hobby, of course, but it''s not every hobbyist that wants to turn it into a job. Not to mention that the pay''s shit and we''re not accredited." "Is that a problem?" I asked. "For insurance, yeah. It is. If you do work on others without insurance accreditation, then they can blacklist you as a non-compliant. Basically, all of your personal insurance costs quadruple because you''re working outside of their ecosystem." "Huh... that''s fucked up. Have you considered pipe bombing that insurance company?" "Several times. But they all do this," she said. "And it makes sense. We''re cutting into their business. Anyway, lots of hobbyists are also blacklisted for breaking DRMs and such. It happens in the hobby." She brought us to a room in the back, clearly someone''s office at some point, but it had been cleared out, with a plastic tarp divider strung up along one wall to keep the blood splatter at bay. A guy was on a reclining seat, breathing deeply through a mask fit onto his face with a little inhaler-like tube on the side, like for asthma. "Is he... knocked out?" "More or less," she said before gesturing to his arm. It ended midway down his lower arm. There was a plastic sleeve, and then a bunch of bare metal doohickies and small contacts. "Your prosthetics are very... plug-and-play? It''s different than what any of us are used to. Easier to install though." "That''s good," I said. "Yeah," she agreed before pulling a box open. I recognized it as one of these from the printer upstairs. The arm within was plain, a bit boring, but it was an arm. And then See-Three broke it. She snapped a fitting apart, then unscrewed another bit with ease, her little articulated armatures undoing a strip of the upper arm just before the elbow. She was left with a little less than half. "See? It''s pretty easy to strip off entire sections until you''re left with what you need. Took a bit of getting used to, but I don''t need to chop off someone''s arm at the shoulder to install one of these. The interface is whatever, but the software is very compatible with just about everything on the market." "So it''s good?" I asked. "It''s alright," she said. "Hardcore body modders will have better, but only because they''ll be looking to get every last half-percent out of their gear. This isn''t as tweakable." "Well, damn. So, how''s everything else going?" She sighed. "Right, let me just tell you." I sensed that I was either in for bad news, or a long ass rant, and I wasn''t sure which one would be worse. *** Glossary: Model Eight Model Eight?

Enemy Classification: / / Elimination Reward: 5 Points Model Description: Model Eights are massive worm-like entities, ranging in length from 3 to 30 metres. Their mouths are equipped with inward-facing serrated teeth, designed to tunnel through even the toughest substrates. The body is covered with large growths that contain digestive fluids, aiding in the breakdown and transport of organic and inorganic materials. Although not designed for direct combat, Model Eights play a crucial role in the hive''s economy by transporting biomass and smaller models back to the hive''s core, as well as recycling dead models through digestion.

Artist interpretation of a Model Eight? Threat Analysis Report: Model Eight Threat Rating: Low Overview Model Eights serve a vital logistical function within the Antithesis forces, capable of altering landscapes and ensuring the efficient transport and recycling of resources. Their ability to burrow and undermine structures can indirectly lead to significant strategic disadvantages for human forces. Threat Capabilities Resource Transportation: Capable of carrying large amounts of biomass and smaller models within their bodies, Model Eights ensure the continuous supply of materials necessary for the hive''s expansion and sustenance. Structural Undermining: Their ability to tunnel through soil and reinforced foundations can lead to the destabilisation of human defences and infrastructure over time. Recycling Efficiency: By consuming and processing dead models, Model Eights recycle valuable resources, maintaining the hive''s operational capacity even in resource-scarce environments. Survivability and Adaptability: The robust nature of their bodies, combined with their subterranean lifestyle, allows them to survive in various environments and avoid direct confrontation. Strategic Threat Assessment Containment Difficulty: Medium. While not directly confrontational, the structural damage caused by their burrowing can be difficult to detect and mitigate in advance. Military and Civilian Risk: Low. The risk to direct human life is lower unless their burrowing disrupts critical infrastructure or causes unintended collapses. Model Eights have only been documented attacking civilians and military personnel directly in rare instances. Their usual behaviour leads to them avoiding or outright ignoring humans. Potential for Expansion: High. By facilitating the movement and recycling of resources, Model Eights significantly contribute to the hive''s growth and territorial expansion. Mitigation Strategies Monitoring and Surveillance: Implement ground-penetrating radar and other subterranean monitoring technologies to detect and track the movements of Model Eights. Infrastructure Reinforcement: Strengthen foundations and underground facilities to resist the undermining effects of Model Eight tunnelling. Targeted Elimination: Use of heavy explosives or ground penetrating weapons to collapse tunnels and eliminate Model Eights during their burrowing activities. Research and Development: Study their digestion and recycling processes to potentially develop countermeasures that could disrupt their ability to process materials. Conclusion Although Model Eights do not engage directly in combat, their role as resource transporters and recyclers is integral to the hive''s functionality and expansion. Their ability to subtly undermine human structures and supply lines requires vigilant monitoring and innovative counter-strategies.

Addendum M8-1: Transcript of Field Observation by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.Subject: Model Eight Field Behavior Analysis Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Recording now. Observing a Model Eight in its natural operational environment provides unique insights into its role within the Antithesis ecosystem. The efficiency with which it navigates underground and processes materials is both fascinating and horrifying. Honestly, it''s nice to be able to study one of these in its natural habitat. It''s only because they worm-like bastard doesn''t seem to want to eat anyone, but still. Can''t wait to dissect this guy once the observational study is done." [Sound of distant rumbling] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "The growths covering its body aren''t just for show¡ªeach one houses digestive enzymes capable of breaking down almost any material it consumes. This not only recycles dead models but also prepares the ground for further hive expansion. It can eat through concrete and bare metals as well, though with some difficulty." [Pause as the creature passes] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Its movements are surprisingly quiet for its size, a testament to its design for stealth and efficiency. The implications for human infrastructure are significant; unnoticed, a Model Eight could undermine key facilities, leading to catastrophic failures. Big peaceful lump that it is, this guy''s still a threat." [Recording ends] End of Transcript.

Addendum M8-2: Among those familiar with Antithesis units, Model Eights are often referred to as: - Worms - Diggers - Earthworms - Recycling Worms - Burrowers - Hive Carriers

Addendum M8-3: Research into the digestive fluids of Model Eights has revealed potential applications in waste processing and materials recovery, although the practical implementation of such technologies remains a significant challenge.

Addendum M8-4: Note from [][][][][][][], on [][]/[]/[][][][] The strategic importance of Model Eights in supporting the hive''s operations cannot be overstated. Efforts to disrupt their activities should be prioritised to slow hive expansion and resource acquisition. Suggestion: Allow troops to carry one (1) remote detonated pre-packaged brick of a high-explosive for Model Eight termination. As noted in previous reports, Model Eights are not defensive in nature. Standard pistol calibre rounds (9x19mm, 5.7x28mm) are capable of penetrating. Larger calibres that are standard (such as the 7.52x51mm Hi Caliber) can even over-penetrate to a large degree. However, it may, in some situations, take more ammunition than a soldier is equipped with to terminate a single Model Eight. Such a low-ranking threat should not use as much munitions to be eliminated.

Addendum M8-5: Operational Incident Report: Collapse of Fort Harrison Date: 01-05-2029 Incident Summary: Fort Harrison, a critical supply depot located near a known Antithesis hotspot, experienced sudden structural failure leading to significant material loss and casualties. Subsequent investigations revealed extensive tunnelling beneath the fort''s foundations, characteristic of Model Eight activity. This incident underscores the strategic threat posed by Model Eights, highlighting their ability to disrupt military operations indirectly through their burrowing activities.

Addendum M8-6: Experimental Defensive Strategy: Sonic Deterrence Following the Fort Harrison incident, military engineers have begun testing a new defensive measure against Model Eight incursions: sonic deterrence. Preliminary tests involve the use of low-frequency vibrations, projected into the ground to create an uncomfortable environment for Model Eights, potentially discouraging them from burrowing near critical infrastructure. While still in the experimental phase, early results are promising, showing a decrease in nearby Model Eight activity.

Addendum M8-8: Note on Ecological Impact Environmental scientists have raised concerns about the broader ecological impact of Model Eight tunnelling. In regions heavily infested by Model Eights, there have been significant alterations to the soil composition and groundwater pathways. These changes have led to secondary effects on local flora and fauna, complicating conservation efforts and altering natural ecosystems in unpredictable ways. Ongoing studies aim to assess the long-term consequences of these disruptions and to develop strategies to mitigate negative environmental impacts. Chapter Twenty-Five - Hundred Burgers With Fries And Drink Chapter Twenty-Five - Hundred Burgers With Fries And Drink "#357EC7. This is the most infamous colour of the techworld. It is the colour used for the Blue Screen of Death. Multiple companies have attempted to replace it with their own mark. Their stocks went down. Microsoft themselves have tried multiple times. They no longer exist. Samurais have tried. Their OSes didn''t catch on. Unless they used #357EC7." --TechNews WorldWide Article, 2038 *** "Bad news?" I asked. See-Three made a dismissive gesture. "Not so much bad, just news. Actually... yeah, news." "What''s that supposed to mean?" I asked. "The weird emphasis, I mean." "Well, news has gotten around about the clinic," See-Three said. She leaned down and grabbed a rag from under the hospital bed, then used it to wipe the area around the prosthetic she''d just installed. "It''s not a bad thing, but it made the rounds quick. You gotta understand, the body-modder community is huge, but it''s also pretty tightly knit? It''s a hobby that''s either super expensive, or demands a lot of time. And people are dedicated about it." "What''s that got to do with the news spreading fast?" I asked. "Free prosthetics would be huge already. Free Samurai-grade prosthetics? Even if they''re not top-of-the-line? Yeah, every modder in New Montreal knows, and more than a few would be willing to trade two limbs for one of these." She tapped the box the arm had come in, which still had a shoulder and a bit in it. "Shit, are we worried about robbery again?" See-Three blinked all three eyes, which really just meant flicking them on and off quickly. "No. Stray Cat, this is in your basement, basically. And it''s a floor above another Samurai''s home. There''s rumours that the rest of the building has samurai in it too." Her head turned very slightly towards Rac, then back to me. Right, I was probably feeding those rumours, wasn''t I? Well, that couldn''t hurt too much. "Plus you did shoot the mayor, and tracked down the last bunch that stole shit from you, so your rep''s pretty solid. No one wants to mess with Gomorrah either." "She has a better rep?" I asked. "She lights aliens on fire while laughing," See-Three said. "She doesn''t need to be seen executing someone in public for people not to want to fuck with her." Fair. "Okay, so news is spreading, that''s good no?" I asked. "We want to help people. We mostly want to help the ex-Sewer Dragons first, but I don''t mind keeping this up afterwards. I don''t think it would cost too much to keep the printer fed for this. We''re talking... what, a couple of bucks per prosthetic?" See-Three nodded. "Yeah. We''re accepting tips right now, and we''ve already made over a hundred thousand credits." I stared. "How much?" That sounded like a lot. That was... like, a hundred burgers with fries and a drink. She shrugged. "It''s less than you''d think? We need a lot of consumables to keep operations running. Anyway, the issue is that the clinic''s too popular on the Mesh. We set up a site for people to sign up for operations. It crashed because too many people were applying. We''re way too popular." "How many applicants?" I asked. "Thirty thousand, last time I checked," See-Three said. "Fuck," I muttered. "How many operations can you do in a day?" "That really depends. Yesterday was our most productive day yet, but keep in mind we''re still setting up. We got through twelve, but half of those were single and partial replacements. Like what I just did. We did a four-limb replacement job this morning, on one of those people the Sewer Dragons messed up. It was a nightmare. Took three solid hours." Assuming twelve a day, thirty thousand... uh, that was a lot of days. And while See-Three was sure news got around, that was in the body-modder community. There would be others. I wasn''t even sure if we had gotten in touch with all of the former Sewer Dragons and their victims yet. That alone could take a few weeks since most of their operations would be on the more complicated side. "Shit," I said. "I... don''t know what to do. We could expand some, I guess." See-Three shook her head. "You could turn this entire floor into one big hospital, hire half a hundred techs and doctors and nurses, not to mention additional staff, do a hundred ops a day, and you''d still have a backlog going back years." You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "That''s not as comforting as you might think," I said. She shrugged. "You''re doing good here. Don''t beat yourself up because the good you''re doing isn''t fixing everything for everyone all at once. We''re putting together a sort of lottery system that''s mostly fair. Sewer Dragons have weighted results, so we''ll get through them faster. The rest of the world will have to deal." "So you don''t want to expand?" I asked. "I didn''t say that. But I also don''t think we can handle a whole hospital. There''s room for a second operating room here, and the rest of the facilities can work to support two ongoing ops at once. That''s a nice level to aim for, I think." Shit, someone being reasonable? I wasn''t used to that, and frankly had no idea how to handle it for a moment before I realized that... yeah, there was nothing to handle about it. "Okay then," I said. "Any other issues?" "Your cat drones scare some people," See-Three said. She grinned. "But I don''t think it''s too big of a problem. It keeps people on their toes and might make some idiots think twice before messing around." "You''ve seen a lot of them around?" I asked. "They come out of the elevator, walk around, sometimes scratch themselves like real cats. One of them fell asleep on a vent for a while. Or... went on standby? They don''t have organic components, do they?" "Not as far as I''m aware," I said. "Oh, okay then. I guess it''s just mimicking cat behaviour. Cute," she said. "Anyway, they wander around. Then go invisible when no one''s looking. I only caught on because my eyes are broad-spectrum and can see into more bands than you''d expect." She tapped herself on the side of the head. "Heh, alright. I''ll keep an eye on the dumbasses. Uh, that''s their name," I said at her confused look. "At least, the smaller, chonkier ones? I don''t know if we ever named the ones that look like tigers." I gestured at about hip-height. There were a few of those around guarding Lucy and the kittens and I supposed this floor too. See-Three stared. "I didn''t see any like that." "Huh, well, they do have better stealth tech, I think." She nodded slowly. "I''ll let the others know." "Alright, cool. I''ll be pretty busy for the next bit, but swing me a message if anything happens. I''d rather find out early rather than have to come around and fix things later, you know?" I extended a hand to shake, realized that her hand was... not in a condition to be shaken at the moment, and let my arm drop awkwardly by my side. "You busy for the rest of the day, then?" I asked as See-Three started to escort us towards the lobby. "Nah, not with this work. Got a buddy that''s a tech coming in for a few easy switches. Got some folks here that need repairs that aren''t full replacements, but I think with your name and rep attached they find it safer here? Anyway, it''s small stuff that just needs someone who knows what they''re doing to look at it. Like doing an oil change, you know?" "Sure," I said. "So heading home?" "Nah. Got to do a mental defrag on my augs. That''ll put me down for a few hours and I''d rather do it in a clinic than alone at home. If something goes haywire I have a few friends that know what to reboot. I lost a couple of friends to bloatware and more friends to poorly sanitised clean-up jobs with prosthetic software. It''s a dangerous hobby sometimes." "Not sure I''d just call it a hobby when it''s this... severe," I said. "But you do you." With that, I said my goodbyes to See-Three, then elbowed Rac to do the same. It was only polite, and I was nothing if not polite. We left the clinic, and I noticed Rac staring in the middle distance for a while, at least until we reached the elevators. "You''re helping," she said. "We''re helping," I corrected. "This shit''s helping a lot of folks, but I just spent the points. You did more here than I have, trust me." Rac glanced up at me for a moment, then nodded. "You''re more humble than I expected." "Damn right I am." I patted her on the back. "So, next stop is... the Family. They''re a weird bunch. Just keep eye contact to a maximum and try to project the thought that you could explode all of them and they''ll be easy to handle." "I''m not feeling so confident all of a sudden," Rac said. "Nah, it''s fine. They love me!" *** Chapter Twenty-Six - Even In Death I Serve My Waifus Chapter Twenty-Six - Even In Death I Serve My Waifus "Games aren''t portals to infinite worlds, where players dance with imagination, conquer fears, and craft their own destinies, all while forging connections and finding joy in the art of play. They''re magic money printers. Now, how can we better separate the player from their cash?" --Electronic Artists CEO, 2031 *** The Family didn''t look like they loved me. Rac and I took my bike over. It was fast, and while it wasn''t the most comfortable ride for a passenger... well, I wasn''t the passenger. Rac held on tight, and she complained about it being chilly, but she was wearing a skintight suit that was pretty damned well insulated. The ride over to the Family''s headquarters was pretty fast, but not as fast as it might have been. There was traffic in the air. It felt a little lighter than I was used to seeing pre-incursion, but not by much. There were more people up now than I''d seen in a week or two, and I was pretty sure that was a good sign. Business was picking up, or something. At the very least, it meant that people weren''t afraid to get out anymore, and that the shit people needed to keep hovercars going was available again. I hadn''t heard of any major power outages or anything, so I supposed the electricity needed to run the cars wasn''t lacking, but they probably still needed stuff manufactured to work, right? I was out of my depth when it came to that kind of thing. We arrived at the parking space on the roof of the Family''s HQ and I slid into one of the samurai-reserved parking spots. Interestingly, there was a car in the space next to the one I took. A long, sleek-looking thing that might have come out of a luxury commercial. It was black and white, long, with sharp angles. A narrow band at the front where a cheaper car might have a windshield and... I assumed there were doors somewhere. I couldn''t see any seams. "Do you know whose car that is?" Rac asked. "I think I have an idea," I said. The car had a knight at the front, acting as one of those old-timey hood ornaments, and the wheels had rims that looked like pawns stuck in a mandala pattern around the central hub. Cheesy chess themed things along with a sort of classy old-rich aesthetic? That was Jolly Monarch''s ride. Actually, I was starting to doubt that it was a car. Wasn''t his whole gimmick a set of drones that worked on a chess theme? Would this be a knight, then? Or... maybe he wasn''t that obsessed with the chess thing that he''d only use... however many pieces were in a chess set. "Hey, Myalis, I know you can''t spy on other samurai, but any way you can let me know how many are here?" I asked. Technically, no. Also technically, Grasshopper, Laserjack and Sam-o-Ray have all appeared in publicly-posted social media posts in the last six hours, all located within the Family''s New Montreal headquarters. Right, so that wasn''t the straightest answer, but it was still pretty damned good. "Thanks," I muttered. Rac and I moved towards the entrance only to be met halfway there by a sweaty young man in a suit and tie. He rushed out of the doors and stopped ahead and to my side, so as to not block my path. "Miss Stray Cat, welcome. And... guest? Will the, ah, other Miss require a guest pass?" I blinked, then grinned. Did they think Rac was a samurai too? Nah, it was probably best to break that misunderstanding. "This is a guest, yeah," I said. "Can you make out her pass to Little Baby Racoon?" "That is not the name I''m going by," Rac said. "If there''s not enough room on the pass, you can spell it ''lil'' Baby Rac," I added. "Just Racoon," Rac said with a growl that had the guy standing stiff. She turned towards me. "Why do you have to be a bitch sometimes?" "It''s just a bit of teasing, but I can let up," I said. "I wouldn''t do it if I didn''t think you couldn''t stand up for yourself... did I get the double-negatives correct there?" I asked the guy who''d come to greet us. He jumped, then nodded. "Yes ma''am. Assuming you meant to inform Miss Racoon that you only insult her because you are aware that she''s capable of taking it?" Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. "Huh. Well, when you put it that way, maybe I am a dick?" I shook my head. "So, care to catch me up? I was out of the city for a hot minute so I don''t know what''s going on with the project I handed off to the Family. For that matter, how are we handling the end of the world?" "The what?" Rac asked. "The world''s going to end in about a week," I explained. "The aliens flung a moon at us. Don''t worry, it''s a pretty small one." "Oh," she said. I think she might have been more worried if I told her that her favourite soda was no longer being produced. "So we''re all going to die?" "Eh, it depends on whether or not someone does something about it. Right?" The young guy stared at me for a moment, then licked his lips in a concerning manner. "The Family''s stance on the matter has mostly been to leave the, uh, situation in the hands of the Samurai. We''re working to keep the news as discreet as possible while providing distractions for the general public." "Like that gacha game?" I asked. "Yes," he replied. "Right," I said. "Well, let''s go meet some of these Samurai, yeah? See if they''re actually planning on doing something or if we''re all still at the hot potato stage of things." "Gacha game?" Rac asked. I turned towards her. "You know what those are?" I asked. I had played one, but only for a while. The gameplay was a little boring, and I found it super predatory the way it wanted me to log in every six hours to collect shitty rewards across fifteen in-game currencies, all just to collect a PNG of an anime girl. If I wanted to see a cute girl, I could stare at Lucy. Lucy had been a lot more obsessed with a few of them over the years, but her attention span wasn''t long enough to keep it up for more than a few weeks at a time. Plus we were always too poor to afford pulls and such, and the games tended to eventually get enough spyware into our augs to find out we were shit broke and would give up on us. "It''s very exciting," the intern said. He was perking up at the topic, so I figured he was a fan. "This will only be the third gatcha game with samurai likenesses, and it''s the first that''s official. That means that the samurai in the game have given permission for their image to be used. The gameplay is also pretty great. It''s a PvE MOBA!" That last bit was meaningless to anyone with a social life. "I don''t know what that is," I said. "It means it''s a cooperative game where players pick a Samurai and fight on an isometric map against waves of antithesis. It''s very reminiscent of older Mobas," he said with a nod. "The classics, with a modern twist." "Sounds fun," Rac said. "Wait, you play that kind of thing?" I asked. "Yes?" she said. "I used to fix phones and handhelds all the same. It''s good money. Some of them play games. I even got some from dead people that had a lot of rares. My main account is nineteen years old. The guy who had it logged in every single day without missing a day for years." "And you picked up his account after he died?" I asked. She shrugged. "Someone shanked him and I found his phone after. The password was one-through-six, it wasn''t exactly hard to crack." "Wild that he had a phone though," I said. She shrugged, and I glanced at the guy escorting us in. He looked a bit horrified at the conversation, but I couldn''t quite peg why. Was it the dead guy speak? He cleared his throat, then gestured to some seats and asked us to wait for just a minute. Less than a minute later he was back with a lanyard that had a guest pass on it addressed to Miss Racoon. She took it and slipped it on, looking rather smug about it. "Alright, care to point us to the bigwigs around here? Is Jolly Monarch really on Earth?" "Oh, just one of his remote drones, ma''am." That explained... some of it. Did he drive his drone over in a car? I supposed that wasn''t impossible, but it was definitely a little weird. Well, whatever. He could be as weird as he damned-well pleased as long as he had a solution for the exploding Earth problem. Some of my favourite people lived on Earth and I didn''t want it all blown up. *** Chapter Twenty-Seven - Three Star Pull Chapter Twenty-Seven - Three Star Pull "Introducing, from The Family, the latest and greatest gacha game ever! Pull from actual, real-life Samurai! Collect your favourite waifus and husbandos! Listen to real lines, equip them with real gear! The most state-of-the-art gacha to ever go live!" --Initial ad for the Family Gacha, 2057 *** The nameless intern led Rac and I deeper into the Family HQ while also slowly pissing me off. I asked him how the sewer situation was going, and he had no idea. I asked him if more Sewer Dragons were being referred to my clinic, and he didn''t know anything about that. I asked him what the plans were for keeping humanity from getting dinosaur''ed and he didn''t have a single clue. But one question from Rac about that stupid gacha game and he went on a five minute tangent about it. Apparently I was a three-star pull, whatever the fuck that meant. The intern kept drawing us deeper into the HQ until we reached an elevator guarded by a pair of mechs. They were androids, but not the sex kind. These were four-legged, squat robots with humanoid upper torsos and enough guns to start a small war. They had heads, in that they had a bunch of sensors and shit in a boxy thing at the top that stared at us, but I was pretty sure they could live without. "This is as far as I can go, Miss Stray Cat," he said with a nod. "Your guest pass should allow you access, Miss Raccoon, but please don''t, ah, stray too far? The pass will buzz a warning if you reach a zone you''re not allowed to be in." "And if she keeps going?" I asked. "The security system does have some non-lethal options," he said. "After that, the lethal options kick in. There''s really not much time between, so please listen to the pass''s instructions. And with that, I wish you good luck." He bowed, then scampered off. I stared at his back for a moment before shaking my head. "You know, last time I came here, they used a honey pot on me?" "A what?" Rac asked. "It''s when you deal with a corp or something and they send someone hot to handle you. They''re all flirty and shit? Like, imagine if you had to deal with a company and the rep they sent looked like that Garter guy but... with a nicer chin or whatever floats your boat." "I think I get it," she said flatly. I shrugged, then walked past the androids into the elevator. Rac followed and the doors closed. There was no button panel, instead, the elevator just started to drop slowly. "So, we''re going to be meeting with a bunch of Samurai?" Rac asked. She sounded just a pinch nervous, which was kind of fair. If someone had dragged me to meet a single samurai just a month ago I would have been shaking in my running shoes. I wasn''t one to fangirl either, the shaking would mostly be worry. Samurai were still a little scary. I could readily admit, having met my share, that we weren''t the sanest, most level-headed bunch around. And we all did kind of have that level of personal and political power that let us get away with shit. Mostly nice folk, though. "If it helps any, I think Grasshopper will be here?" I said. "Oh," Rac said. After a long pause, she nodded. "I like her." "Yeah, kind of hard not to, she''s just like that," I said. The elevator slowed to a stop, then the doors opened. There were more androids waiting for us, but past them was a plain corridor. There were washrooms to the left and right and a large pair of double doors at the end. I stepped out cautiously, eyeing the space. No cameras that I could see, but that didn''t mean anything. Rac might have sensed my nerves because she didn''t say anything as we crossed the corridor to the doors at the end. They opened with a hiss, leading into... a lounge? There was the ubiquitous large, round projector table that everyone seemed to have these days, but otherwise the room felt like a... how could I put this. It looked like what a person with corpo brain rot thought a living room should look like. Big couches with hard angles. Parts of the room were a step higher than other parts. Everything faced inwards towards that projector, but there was also a large screen on the far wall. One corner had a minifridge next to a small kitchen set up with cupboards that probably had cheap snacks and there was an automatic coffee machine back there too. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. A table in another corner had square-angled chairs around it and there was a shelf with generic boardgames sitting on it, and by the door there was a stand with little paper pamphlets with shit like suicide prevention hotlines and the usual shit people would waste ink on. "How to tell your parents you''re a furry" and "Both my moms are straight, what do I do?" "Wow, this place looks tailor made to suck the joy out of everything," I said as I stepped in. The occupants glanced my way, and I took them in as a group. Sam-O-Ray was occupying all of one couch. The big guy was grinning. His armour was standing behind the couch, all pure white and covered in samoan tattoos that I noticed were reflections of his actual tattoos... well, the suit''s glowed, but that was a given. Grasshopper was in one of those shitty chairs from the table in the corner, sitting with perfect posture in her many-limbed insectile armour. She was holding onto three cups of tea with her three right hands, each one with a different tag dangling from the side. And LaserJack was sitting on the couch opposite Sam-O-Ray, a laptop on his lap and his suit looking a bit crumpled. "Hello, Stray Cat," Grasshopper said. "Yo, little sister Cat!" Sam-O-Ray said. He bounced off the couch and was in front of me in a matter of seconds. I braced for impact, and he might have noticed because his touch was gentle, a careful grasp of my shoulder coupled with a massive, sparkly-teeth smile. "It''s been too long," he said. "Yeah, it''s been a minute," I replied. "Who''s this little sister?" he asked as he leaned to the side to inspect Rac. "That''s Rac. Or Racoon if you''re being formal. She helps me around my place. Great little tech, can shoot things good too." "Ah, well, any little sister of Cat''s is a little sister of mine!" he said with a wide grin. "Come! The couches really do suck, but they''re better than standing around. We''re waiting for one more." "Am I interrupting a meeting or something?" I asked. "You are not," Grasshopper said. "Hello, Rac the Racoon, how are you doing?" "I''m fine," Rac said. "I''ve been doing the things you told me to... when I have time." Grasshopper smiled. "I know. You''ve been a very good pupil. I appreciate that you have a busy schedule and yet you still find time to do your homework. Isn''t that laudable, Stray Cat?" "Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, good job, Rac," I said without meeting Grasshopper''s eyes. So what if I had a few gigs of homework to do. I''d get to it eventually, when I wasn''t worried about saving the world, or sleeping in, or spending time with Lucy. I had other priorities than learning math. The door behind us opened and I turned to see a tall woman step into the room. She was armoured, like really armoured. A long skirt of interlocking metal plates, shoulder pads that were exaggeratedly huge, a chestplate that wrapped around... I don''t know if the English alphabet had enough letters to describe the size of her. There had to be some gravity tech fuckery going on because there was no way anyone could move with those. Her face, when I finally dragged my eyes up to stare, was encased in more steel, shaped like a pretty but blank woman. "Hey," I said. LaserJack finally twigged on to something happening and looked up from his laptop. "Ah, Jolly Monarch, good." That was Jolly? The weird guy with the LARP costume and the drones? My confusion might have been obvious because Sam-O-Ray laughed. "He''s up around Mars or thereabouts, this is one of his Queen drones." "An old one," the Queen drone said with a slightly distorted but very much masculine voice. "Should I feel something about the, uh, shape of the drone?" I asked. "It was the only way to fit all the weapons I wanted," he said with a sigh. "Uh-huh." The Queen''s shoulders sagged, which made other things... I shook my head. "No one believes me," he said. "Which is why I never use this drone. It''s three years old besides. I have far better now, but it happened to be on Earth and I didn''t want to waste points." "Hmm, I never thought about it, but is this literal objectification?" Grasshopper asked. "Everyone," LaserJack said. "Let''s focus. Monarch, what''s the plan?" "Ah yes, the plan. The plan is that no one has a plan and we''re all going to die." *** Chapter Twenty-Eight - Escape Velocity Chapter Twenty-Eight - Escape Velocity "It''s strange to live in a time where human ingenuity and sciences have allowed us to create such perfect, devastating weapons, and yet we''re still using guns invented and perfected seventy years ago because our adversary''s greatest threat is still delivered from biting range." --Brigadier General Thibodeau, 2055 *** "That''s distressing to hear," Grasshopper said. "I''d like to think that I still have a lot to live for." "Yeah, I think we all want to not die," I agreed as I climbed over the back of the couch, then sat on the backrest with an elbow on my knee. "So, no plan at all. That seems really unlikely." Jolly Monarch shrugged his drone''s arms. "That''s the situation at the moment. The Family in general don''t have any authority to push things and they''re being rather passive about Phobos. They are, admittedly, helping with crowd control and information. They''re helping to keep panic at a minimum." "Right, because we don''t want people panicking minutes before they''re crushed to death," Sam-O-Ray said. He crossed his arms and flexed. My dude had some big muscles. Did he work out for those or was he cheating a little? He didn''t strike me as the cheating sort. I shook my head and refocused. Why was the imminent death of everyone on the entire planet so easy to be distracted from? "We can''t really be planning to just... I don''t know, sell shades to people so they can stare right up at the fireball before it splatters them," I said. "Isn''t this just a huge rock? Nuke it or something." Jolly Monarch laughed. "You''re not even wrong. There are at least a dozen samurai who could bat this thing aside without any issues. Unfortunately, all of them are off-world. The more we delay in asking for their help, the less help they can provide." "So ask, dumbass," I said. "It''s not so simple," he replied. "There are political considerations." "This doesn''t seem the time for that," Grasshopper said. LaserJack hummed. "I''ll admit, I''m usually the first to jump when it comes to samurai issues that turn political. It''s my area of expertise, but I generally agree with Stray Cat and Grasshopper. If we have to suffer the consequences of redeploying someone important, then we''ll do so after we''ve saved the planet and all of its inhabitants." Jolly Monarch nodded. "Good. Thank you. I think the issue at the moment is that there are too many non-samurai in positions of relative power. They''re stalling things in the name of one thing while aiming to gain favour in other respects." "What do you mean?" I asked. Jolly Monarch reached up and scratched... was it his chin? I supposed the chin belonged to him, but it was 100% a female chin. Her chin? No, I supposed it was still ''his.'' Fucking English. "The primary issue is with certain power players. Not specifically people, but larger organisations. Governments and mega-corps. The Family wants concessions from them, and right now there has never been a better time to ask." "Are they--" Rac began, only to stop as attention turned her way. "Go on," I said. She swallowed, but Sam-O-Ray winked her way and Grasshopper gave her six thumbs up. "When I lived under New Montreal, there were, uh, people who were stronger? Not literally, some of the time, but they had friends and there are lots of small gangs down there. Sometimes we''d all learn about a corp that wants to come down and clean things up. None of those groups can resist a full corp, not for long, so we''d all hunker down. But there''d always be this sort of game where the big players would threaten to aim the corp at one another." That was a lot of words from my little Rac who was usually pretty reserved. "I think I see what you mean, is it the same here?" I asked. Jolly Monarch made a so-so gesture. "Right now, the Family and other samurai-operated entities have a monopoly on a fleeting resource; the saving of all of humanity. When they sit at the negotiation table today, they have a card they can play that guarantees a victory, no matter how impossible it would be for them not to act." "That''s so fucking stupid," I said. "The Family will threaten to allow everyone to die if it means getting better deals?" "No, everyone knows that they won''t go that far. But the Family and other groups still ostensibly hold that over the heads of various governments and corporations. They, and by extension we, are doing something far beyond the means and capabilities of any Earthly government, and we''re doing it on their behalf. We have to do it in any case because not doing it would be horrendous, but that doesn''t mean we will necessarily do it for free." Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "Sometimes," Grasshopper said. "When an agricorp harvests the food they''re growing, they find that they''ve grown more than what they could reasonably sell. They have a surplus. It''s only smart to aim for a surplus, in case something goes wrong along the line. However, if they do have a surplus, they destroy it." "Why?" Rac asked. "Because it''s a large supply of unsellable materials. It''s not profitable to give it away, or flood the market with more which would lower their overall prices. The sensible economic thing to do is to destroy some of the supply to keep the demand higher." "That''s messed up," Rac said. I could agree with that. I''d gone hungry too many times not to. "You have to remember, an economy is a system to earn money, not to make lives better," Grasshopper said. "Politics are systems to earn power, not make lives better. It''s why I generally support the Family, because I really don''t want anything to do with either." Grasshopper stood up and started for the door. "Where are you headed?" LaserJack asked. "To destroy a very large rock," she said. "Because it''s the right thing to do." "Sounds good to me," I said as I rolled off the top of the couch and onto my feet. "Nice seeing you, LaserJack, Jolly." "I''m coming with," Sam-O-Ray said before I could say goodbye. "See you around, brothers!" I had to jog to catch up to Grasshopper, with Rac right on my heels. Sam-O-Ray was climbing into his armour behind us, but he was quick to catch up after. "So, how''re you planning on blowing up that rock?" I asked. Grasshopper glanced back at me and smiled. "With a little help from some friends, I hope." "Ah, well, I''ve got bombs," I said. "So that''s a start." "I suspect I can purchase a gun large enough to send a projectile into orbit," Grasshopper said. "The tricky part will be detaching from any orbit and aiming the projectile towards Phobos. It''s a huge target, but space is huge-er!" "Yeah, gravity and shit," I agreed. Grasshopper gave me a look that made me want to slink away and read a book or something. "I''ve got some decent range-finding systems," Sam-O-Ray said. "It''s not much, but it might help. Stray Cat, sister, you''re apparently someone who knows everyone. Have any samurai friends that are into space travel?" "Not space travel specifically, and I don''t know if I know everyone. I do know some newbies with a few weird catalogues. Not sure if they''ll all have something to contribute." "No, it would be good anyway," Grasshopper said. "Even if they''re just buying some of the more basic, less expensive parts, that''ll still defray part of the overall cost. And it''s important with group projects to include as many people as possible and see if they can shine!" "It''ll also be important to have more samurai," Rac said. "Hmm, why''s that?" I asked her. "Because someone might fuck with your giant space gun if it''s just you and Miss Grasshopper and, uh, mister Sam-O-Ray," Rac continued. "But if it''s a dozen samurai? No one''s gonna want to fuck with that." That was a fair point. Messing with one samurai was bad, messing with a couple? That was asking for trouble. At the same time, there were some corps big enough that they probably thought they could get away with it. Messing with nearly a dozen? Fuck that, that risk-reward math was way off on that one. "Okay," I said. "Not how I was planning on spending my afternoon, but I dig it." "It''s almost five. We''re well past just the afternoon," Grasshopper said. I scoffed. Spoken like someone that woke up in the morning. "Where do we wanna set this up?" I asked. "We need a clear space," Grasshopper began. "With no room for corporate interference. We''ll want an area that''s away from the city as well. It''s likely that any shot strong enough to propel something into the atmosphere will likely be strong enough to make the earth tremble and shatter windows for some ways. We can compensate for that, but it really depends on our budget. And, of course, what we''re aiming for." "We''re aiming for Phobos, aren''t we?" I asked. "Yes, of course, but will we be able to destroy it with one hit? Do we want that? It''ll be much easier to crack the moon apart into more manageable pieces than to destroy it completely outright." "I don''t know much about rocket science, but I do know where we can find a lot of open space," I said. I had an idea. *** Glossary: Model Nine Glossary: Model Nine Model Nine?

Enemy Classification: / / Elimination Reward: 25 Points Model Description: Model Nines are highly adaptive and intelligent members of the Antithesis forces, notable for their absence of bones and presence of complex cartilage structures. Their skin, a remarkable hybrid of leaf-like structures and muscles, allows them to change colour and shape with greater efficiency than a chameleon, enabling exceptional camouflage and stealth. These units are not only masters of disguise but also function as critical intelligence agents, capable of gathering data and disrupting enemy operations through sophisticated biological means. Artist Interpretation of a Model Nine mid-transformation.?

Threat Analysis Report: Model Nine Threat Rating: Medium Overview Model Nines represent a sophisticated blend of natural mimicry and biological espionage technology. Their ability to adapt their form and blend into almost any environment makes them perfect for reconnaissance and information warfare. Threat Capabilities Advanced Camouflage: Utilising their skin''s unique properties, Model Nines can mimic complex backgrounds and objects, making them nearly invisible to the naked eye. Intelligence Relay: These models communicate with the hive and potentially other Model Nines via pheromones, which they can release into the air to convey vast amounts of gathered intelligence quickly. Electronic Interference: The spores released by Model Nines are drawn to electrical currents, where they can disrupt electronic communication and unshielded equipment, particularly sensitive to ECM. Survivability and Adaptability: Their cartilaginous structure allows for extraordinary flexibility and resilience, enabling them to escape from threats and infiltrate high-security areas. Strategic Threat Assessment Containment Difficulty: High. The combination of stealth capabilities and intelligence-gathering skills makes Model Nines exceptionally challenging to detect and capture. Military and Civilian Risk: High. Given their role in intelligence disruption, Model Nines pose a significant threat to operational security and the integrity of military strategies. They have a noted tendency to appear and attack critical personnel. Potential for Expansion: Medium. While primarily used for reconnaissance and disruption, the presence of Model Nines often precedes larger Antithesis operations, suggesting a strategic use in preparing for hive expansions. Mitigation Strategies Enhanced Surveillance: Development and deployment of multi-spectral detection systems to better identify Model Nines despite their camouflage. Countermeasures for Electronic Warfare: Implementing stronger shielding and ECM counter-countermeasures to mitigate the effects of the spores on critical equipment. Intelligence Security: Strengthening information security protocols to prevent leakage of sensitive data through compromised networks or personnel. Research and Development: Studying the biological mechanisms behind their camouflage and spore production to develop specific counter-technologies. Conclusion Model Nines are a medium-threat entity that requires advanced technological solutions and vigilant security measures to counteract. Their unique blend of stealth, intelligence gathering, and electronic warfare capabilities make them one of the most insidious threats posed by the Antithesis.

Addendum M9-1: Transcript of Encrypted Security Briefing Date: [Redacted] Subject: Counterintelligence Operations Against Model Nine Start of Transcript. Security Officer: "This briefing addresses the recent increase in Model Nine activities. Their ability to infiltrate and disrupt has led to several compromised operations. It''s crucial that we advance our detection technologies and review our electronic security measures to counteract this threat effectively. Recent incidents have demonstrated that Model Nines can bypass conventional security measures by mimicking non-threatening objects. Our field teams have reported unexpected malfunctions in surveillance equipment, which were later attributed to spore contamination." Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Analyst: "We''re developing new protocols that include the use of chemical sniffers that can detect the unique pheromone signatures of Model Nines. Additionally, we''re looking into enhancements for our electronic systems to include redundancy and isolation features, which should help in preventing spore-induced malfunctions." Technical Specialist: "On the technology front, we''re testing several types of electromagnetic pulses (EMP) that could neutralise spores in the air before they settle on equipment. However, this approach requires careful calibration to avoid damaging our own hardware." Security Officer: "Thank you, everyone. Let''s prioritise these developments and keep our field personnel updated with the latest countermeasures. We cannot afford to let these entities compromise our operations further. Constant vigilance and adaptation are our best defences against this evolving threat." End of Transcript. Note: Transcript sanitised by AI. True transcript contains seven hours of additional material.

Addendum M9-2: Field Report: Encounter with Model Nine Date: XX-XX-2022 Report: "During a routine patrol, our unit encountered what appeared to be a native plant which abruptly changed shape. It managed to escape after releasing a cloud of spores, causing temporary malfunctions in our communication devices. Look, speaking frankly, that thing scared the shit out of us. One minute we''re patrolling some suburb, the next a mailbox is ripping Bankman''s face off before running away."

Addendum M9-3: Experimental Defense Initiative: Bio-Electric Disruption In response to the unique challenges posed by Model Nine, research teams are experimenting with bio-electric disruption fields designed to destabilise the spore clouds before they can affect electronic equipment. Preliminary tests show promise, but the adaptability of Model Nines requires ongoing adjustments to this technology.

Addendum M9-4: Environmental Impact Statement Concerns have been raised about the ecological impact of Model Nine spores, particularly in regions with high electronic activity. Studies are underway to assess the long-term effects of these spores on both the environment and the operational integrity of electronic systems in affected areas.

Addendum M9-5: Transcript of Lab Analysis by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Subject: Model Nine Dissection Analysis Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Recording now. Today, we''re examining a Model Nine specimen, and I must say, the complexity here is unlike anything we''ve seen before. The cartilaginous structure within these creatures allows for an astonishing range of flexibility and resilience. Coupled with their ability to camouflage, it''s clear why they''re so effective at infiltration." [Sound of lab equipment] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "The skin, or what appears as skin, is actually a sophisticated mesh of leaf-like structures and muscle fibres. I''m sending some samples for further testing. These not only enable the Model Nine to change its shape but also its texture and colour at an intricate level. I mean, this is full-spectrum change. Way into the ultra-violet and into some deep, deep reds. The potential applications for this kind of technology, if we could understand and replicate it, are mind-boggling. I wouldn''t mind a flat-screen with this kind of colour fidelity." [Pause for examination] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Now, regarding their communication mechanism¡ªthese creatures emit a complex cocktail of pheromones, which are far more sophisticated than anything in the animal kingdom. These pheromones seem to function not just for communication but may also influence the behaviour of nearby models. Maybe? That''s what field reports suggest, but I have no way or no desire to test this out. The pheromones are non-toxic, however, though they do make you sneeze a little? They smell like... cut grass? Mouldy cut grass?" [Recording ends] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "In conclusion, while the immediate threat of Model Nines is their espionage capability, the broader implications of their biological innovations could redefine the fields of biological materials science. And yet they use that ability to make themselves look like toasters." End of Transcript. The 2024 Stray Cat Strut Fanfiction Contest - Reading Phase! Hello Samurai, The contest entries have all arrived and now... now it''s time to get reading! As previously mentioned, the voting this year will be done in stages. The first vote will occur on the 15th of June, the second on the 30th of June, and the final five days later on the 5th of July! Between now and the first stage of votes is your time to get reading! Votes themselves will be limited to Patreon members only this year, but still, give a shout-out and support your favourite stories!

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Get reading everyone! And a huge thank-you to everyone who participated this year! I can''t wait to see what you wrote! Chapter Twenty-Nine - Successfully Participated Chapter Twenty-Nine - Successfully Participated "The era of participating trophies is over! Now, now is the era of participation demerits!" --Gerard "the Teacher" Teach, During the 2029 Capital Riots *** "So, give it to me straight," I said as we slipped into an elevator. "How hard is this gonna be?" Grasshopper raised a hand to rub at her chin. Her other set crossed and another set of hands settled on her hips. "This is probably significantly more complicated than you expect it to be, Catherine." "Uh-huh," I said. "But you''re good at making this kind of thing simple, aren''t you? So simple away, please." Grasshopper giggled faintly before nodding. "I''ll do what I can. First, let''s start at ground zero of the project. We''re going to need a wide open space regardless of which method we pick for the delivery." "We have options?" Sam-O-Ray asked. "Oh, yes. There''s more than one way to skin a cat. No offence meant!" "None taken?" Grasshopper started to gesture as she spoke. It was a wonder her arms weren''t clacking against each other. "So, my personal favourite method would be a very large gun. Something that can put a small payload out into orbit. Any sufficiently large cannon could probably manage it, but ideally we''d use something that doesn''t use an explosive propellant." "Like a railgun?" Rac asked. "Oh, very well done!" Grasshopper said. She idly reached into one of the many little pockets on her armour and tugged out a small roll of paper. It was wax paper, covered in hundreds of little stickers. She fumbled with it for a moment before finding a sticker of a raccoon. It was promptly pressed onto Rac''s chest, like a medal on a general. "A railgun," she continued. "Would be a very effective way of propelling something at the speeds we need, but it might also limit what we can send up." "And a normal big gun?" I asked. "Also doable. But that''ll be a lot of firepower. Lots of smoke, a larger, louder explosion. We can forget any amount of subtlety unless we build around that issue. It also means housing and working with heavy explosives, which is somewhat more dangerous." Sam-O-Ray hummed. "A normal rocket? Not as reusable, but it could be relatively cheap. It''s propellant in a tube. Basically a single-use cannon that just burns longer." "That''s a slight oversimplification of rocketry," Grasshopper said. "Yeah, I know. I do have some background in engineering," Sam-O-Ray said. He grinned huge. "Got a Masters in it. Not rocket-science, mind, but I get the basic principles." "Oh, forgive me," Grasshopper said. "But yes, rockets are a viable idea, I just find them somewhat wasteful. In any case, once we''ve decided a way to get into orbit, we need to find a way to go from orbit to Phobos." I frowned. "Can''t we just shoot it from here?" I asked. That got me some looks. "Yeah, I know the planet''s spinning and shit, so we''ll have to wait for, like, the right window, but... what?" Grasshopper peeled off another sticker and pressed it onto my chest. I looked down until my chin was buried in my neck to read it. ''You Tried!'' it read in glitter-covered script. "We could bolo it," Sam-O-Ray suggested. "Oh! That would be very interesting!" Grasshopper said. She clapped two sets of arms. "Bolo?" Rac repeated. Grasshopper nodded. "A bolo is an ancient weapon of sorts. It''s made of a rope or cord with two or occasionally three weights on the end. Some have even more! A bolo would be thrown so that the weights spin around, and when they strike something, the weights make the cords wrap around whatever they''ve hit." "Okay... you want to bolo the moon?" Rac asked. "Oh, not quite. In terms of space-travel, a bolo-system is essentially a somewhat stationary device in orbit that has weights and counter balances. An object flies in close, gets hooked on, then whipped out into the distance. It''s a fantastic way of transferring energy to something in a close orbit so that it''s flung out into a further one." "I thought you were gonna suggest flinging a bolo at Phobos," I said. "I''ve got mono-wire stuff, that could do a number on a big rock." The elevator eventually dinged and we were let out. I wasn''t sure what floor we were on, but I trusted Grasshopper and kept following her. She was walking at a very slow pace, actually, so it was less follow and more... amble along. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "That actually segues well into our next major choice. How do we want to harm Phobos?" Grasshopper asked. "Slice it apart and nuke the rest?" I asked. "I don''t think you''re quite comprehending the size we''re dealing with here," Grasshopper said. "Phobos is a moon. A small one, relatively, but it''s nonetheless a moon still. More, Phobos is a moon that the Antithesis have inhabited. It was thrown across part of our solar system at great speeds." "I hadn''t considered that," Sam-O-Ray said. "What?" Rac asked. I was happy she asked because I was about to have to myself. "If the moon was moved that way, then the organics inside of it would be thrown around quite badly. Unless they were designed to resist that kind of motion. We''re either dealing with a moon that''s filled with pockets of antithesis, or a moon that''s filled with organic slurry, or one that''s filled with high-tier antithesis who might be able to resist conventional arms," Sam-O-Ray said. "There are a lot of other options," Grasshopper said. "But yes, those three are where I''d put my money if I were a gambling woman. Which I''m not, because I know how statistics work. It''s entirely possible that Phobos could just resist any attacks, and might have ways to counter some." "They can parry nukes?" I asked. Grasshopper shook her head. "No, of course not, but resist the radiation? Temper the blast? Heal afterwards? That''s all very possible, and likely, even." "Shit," I muttered. "How big of a bomb would we need, then?" "Huge," Sam-O-Ray said. "I''ve pulled it up. Phobos is, at its widest, twenty-seven kilometres in diameter. The biggest nuke ever dropped on Earth was... lemme look at it... the blast radius was thirty-five kilometres wide." "I''m not great at math, but the second number is bigger than the first." "Blast radiuses would be much smaller in space, and their impact would be greatly diminished," Grasshopper said. "The main reason I''m worried about using nuclear weapons is just how.. Imprecise they are. We''ll be hurling bits of the surface all over. One nuclear detonation won''t be enough, not if they''re just on the surface. We''d need a deep-penetrating shot first." "So, other options?" I asked. "We mentioned mono-filament stuff." "Some models of antithesis have organic mono-filament," Grasshopper said. I stared. They had what? No one told me that. "Does it counter things?" "Somewhat," she said. "Cluster munitions? Certain chemicals will burn at incredibly high temperatures for a very long time, even in a no-oxygen environment. We could cook the moon''s surface." "Slow," Sam-O-Ray said. Grasshopper sighed. "That''s true. And it wouldn''t stop the moon from crashing into us." "That should be our first priority, yeah," I said. "If we chop off chunks of it, will we fare any better?" "Yes," Grasshopper said. "Pieces only a few metres across will burn up in our atmosphere. If they''re brittle they''ll come down as small chunks. Still dangerous, but less so than larger stones. This will, of course, be terrible for any orbital or satellite infrastructure. Smaller stones will get caught in Earth''s orbit." "Do we care?" I asked. Grasshopper made several so-so gestures all at once. "We do, but on the scale of things to care about, the extinction of all things on Earth measures higher than orbital debris cleanup by several orders of magnitude. It would be nice to do a good job of things, of course." "Right," I said. "So, what do we use as a payload? And do we only need one?" "More makes sense," Sam-O-Ray said. "I like the cluster idea. Cook them while we can. My own speciality is lasers. I''m pretty sure I could get a small enough platform that if we get it caught in Phobos'' orbit, it would be able to snipe down anything that pokes its head out of the rock. But when it comes to destroying the entire thing... some sort of shaped nuclear charge?" Grasshopper gasped, then clapped all of her hands while doing a little bouncy step. "A Casaba Howitzer!" "A what?" I asked. "It''s a conceptual weapon. You use a nuclear explosion to direct a high-velocity jet of plasma towards a target! Like a gun, but instead of gunpowder pushing lead down a barrel, it''s a nuclear detonation pushing plasma towards a target!" That sounded... cool as fuck. "I''m down for that one," I said. *** Chapter Thirty - Grasshoppers Guide to Discreet Destruction Chapter Thirty - Grasshopper''s Guide to Discreet Destruction "I need to justify changing my name? Your honour, my name is Al. A and L. Do you have any idea how often people call me AI? It''s insulting!" --Al Bert, courtroom hearing, 2026 *** "So, what do you need from me?" I asked. Grasshopper had led us down and into a parking garage that I wasn''t aware of, but wasn''t surprised to discover in the lower floors of the building the Family was located in. The employees had to park somewhere and Grasshopper didn''t strike me as the sort to shove her car in the Samurai-only slots. Mostly because her car... I eyed it for a moment, not sure what to say, really. It was kind of what I expected, without ever really realising that it was exactly what I expected, if that made any sense. Grasshopper drove a little beige hover car. It was ten, maybe twelve years old, and looked like it was decently well-worn, but clean. There were bumper stickers slapped onto the back. I''m a teacher, what''s your superpower? It wasn''t even a fancy brand, just... run of the mill. "Hmm," Grasshopper said as she rubbed her chin. "Can you secure a location? You mentioned something like that earlier." "Yeah, sure," I said. "I can get..." I paused as Grasshopper raised a hand. "Sorry. But not here. Ask your Ai... Myalis, was it? Yes, ask them to contact mine. We can send notes back and forth that way. It''s far more private." "Is privacy going to be that big of a concern?" Sam-O-Ray asked. "Oh yes," Grasshopper said. "We''ll be stockpiling weapons of mass destruction. Now, I believe that we''re all responsible adults who can be trusted with nuclear devices, but I do worry about just leaving them laying around and letting just anyone know. It''s like having a gun locker at home. It''s safer to have things stored properly, and it''s even safer if no one knows where the locker is to begin with." "Right, that''s perfectly sensible," I said. "In any case, yeah, I can think of a few locations. And if we need people, I might be able to wrangle something up. It won''t be professional." "Loyal is more valuable than professional sometimes," Grasshopper said, then she froze. "Then again, I do feel like I need to stress about the presence of weapons of mass destruction and how we''ll need both professional and loyal?" "Yeah, got it," I said. "I''ll clear something out and get into contact with you in a couple of hours. You''re in charge of this." I was putting my foot down. Helping I could do, but fuck me if I was going to be put in charge of yet another big project. I didn''t have time for that, or the inclination. Besides, now seemed like as good a time as any to nix the idea of me being in charge. "Okay," Grasshopper said. "It''s a responsibility I''ll take seriously. Now, I have to go. I teach senior literacy classes in an hour. Toodles!" She bent all of her extra arms in, then tucked herself into the driver''s seat of her little hover car. It was too small for a woman as tall as she was, and she looked squished in there. "Why... why doesn''t she have a better car?" Rac asked. "I guess that one still works?" Sam-O-Ray said with a shrug. "I don''t know. Maybe it''s good on gas?" I stared at him, then at the car. It was electric. "Well, whatever. What are you gonna do?" "Ah, well, I guess I can help where I can? You said you had a spot, yeah? Let me go check it out, maybe? I''ve got nothing better to do at the minute so I wouldn''t mind running security for a shift. I can scope the spot out, make sure no villain-sorts show up early." "That... might actually be a fantastic idea," I said. "Good call. And speaking of calls. Rac, distract Sam-O-Ray for a bit while we head back up. Sam-O... wait, do you have a ride?" "Yes," he said. "Is it older than me?" Rac asked. He grinned. "Nah, little sister. I splurged a little. A man ought to have a nice car, I think. It''s up by the roof." "Cool, let''s head that way. I have a couple of calls to make," I said. And then I placed the first of those calls. Fortunately, it was picked up almost immediately. Unfortunately, the person on the other end was breathing hard and trying not to show it. "Delilah?" I asked. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. "Catherine?" "Is this... a bad time?" "I''m at the gym, so it''s fine." "Oh... yeah, okay, sure, call it whatever you want. Say hi to Franny. Call me when you''re done." I hung up. And then it rang in my head, an incoming call from Gomorrah. "Hello!" I answered. "I wasn''t... we weren''t... god give me patience. What do you want, Catherine?" "I can''t tell you because of unfriendly ears, but I can text you... this." I opened our private text and sent her a message. "''We''re going to nuke the moon?''" she read. "Cat, what?" "It''ll be fantastic," I said. "But also, we need to secure a location for the big gun." "Big gun?" "And I need like, twenty minutes to explain Grasshopper''s plan." "Grasshopper is involved in this?" She paused for a few long seconds. "Honestly, that''s the first bit of good news in all of this." "Thanks for the vote of confidence," I said. She chuckled. "It''s of no confidence, actually." Did they not teach her sarcasm at nun school? "Come over to the gym, I''ll send Myalis the coordinates." "Thanks," I said before we hung up. So, I had an idea of where I was going, then. Did Gomorrah not have a home gym? Or was that just something she hadn''t gotten around to yet? If so, that was totally fair. "We''re going to meet a friend at the gym," I said. "Which one? There''s probably a few thousand in the city," Sam-O-Ray said, which was probably a bit of an understatement now that I thought about it. "Well, we sure are going to one of them. We''ll figure things out from there." The ride up was nice and quick, the elevators actually had a ''samurai mode'' which mostly meant that it moved a bit faster and didn''t stop on every floor along the way to pick up normal folk. I had to wonder if this was a normal feature for the rich-rich sorts. And then we were out and onto the roof again. Rac and I moved towards my bike while Sam-O-Ray walked over to a large truck. It had big wheels and a bigger suspension, and of course needed neither because it could fly. Still looked sleek, though. I wasn''t sure if it was alien tech or just a nice ride, actually. Myalis helpfully punched in the coordinates to the gym in my augs navigation thing before I took off, then she sent the info out to Sam-O-Ray for me. I linked up with him on a quick call so we could talk while in the air. "I''d send you directly to the site I was thinking of," I said. "But I don''t know if it''s acceptable yet. This is kind of moving fast. Gomorrah will know better, I think." "The fire lady, right?" Sam-O-Ray asked. "She''s pretty popular." "Yeah. She''s always ranked ahead of me on that kind of thing. If I cared then I''d be a little upset." I spun my bike around and headed out, punching through some traffic and then riding across the city in a very illegal straight line. Sam-O-Ray kept up well enough, his big truck didn''t accelerate quite as fast, but it did commande a lot more space in the air. As it turned out, the gym Delilah was using was four blocks over from home. I supposed she''d looked for something close by. It was just on the other side of the split between the section of the city cordoned off after that last incursion a few weeks ago, so it had probably never closed its doors for that. The gym itself wasn''t a whole building, of course. It was on the sixty-first floor of an otherwise unremarkable residential mega complex. The nicer upper middle-class sort, with apartments that had like, three to five rooms each and a window to the outside. We parked, got out, rode another elevator up (this time without the Samurai cheat, so we were stopped every other floor and had to share with some people who were very keen to stare at us) and eventually we made it to the gym. The gym was some fancy looking corporate-sleek place. Security scanners around the doors, a big mandatory dress code on a laminated plaque next to a list of prices and membership types that would need a flowchart to be untangled. There was a large sign that said No Guns in Gym Area which I promptly ignored. "Well, shit," I muttered. She really had been working out. It was a little disappointing to learn, actually. *** Chapter Thirty-One - Casanova Howitzer Chapter Thirty-One - Casanova Howitzer "We often underestimate the Antithesis, claiming that they are merely bugs, or idiotic plants. What we don''t realise, what we terrestrial beings have a hard time even conceptualising, is that these plants evolve at a rate that is impossibly fast, and in that evolution, they discover things that we''ve never even considered. And then they remember them." --Except from Antithesis: A Biologist''s Perspective by Dr. Gene Pool, 2045 *** Delilah was on a treadmill when we found her. She''d probably seen us coming, what with the machine facing a wall covered in a floor-to-ceiling mirror from one end to another. We''d gotten a few looks as we came in, but no one approached. The gym''s ironically-overweight employee behind the counter was too cowed by the presence of two samurai armed to the teeth, and I supposed Rac as well. "I''ve been getting non-stop shit," Rac muttered. "Huh?" I asked. She made the universal ''hand waving before face'' gesture of someone talking about their augs. "Ever since we walked in, I''ve been getting ads and requests for stuff. I think I now have a life-time membership for the gym?" "That sounds expensive," I said. "I know! And I can''t figure out how to cancel it. I think it''s a subscription to the gym''s advertising service, not even the gym itself." "Yeah, gyms can be like that," Sam-O-Ray said. "They can be nice places too, though! Never liked the more business-y ones." Give me a moment. I''m feeling a little sorry for poor Racoon. "Oh," Rac said a moment later before blinking. "I guess they stopped?" "Or someone took pity on you," I said with a smirk. Gomorrah hadn''t stopped jogging even when we got within talking range. "Hello Cat, Rac... Sam-O-Ray, was it?" she asked between pants. "That''s me, sister," he said with a grin. Then the big guy slipped his boots off and hopped onto the machine next to Delilah Rac, seeing what was about to happen before I did, took the machine on Delilah''s other side, which left me standing there for a moment. "Oh, fine," I muttered before getting onto the one on Rac''s other side. I was now far from Sam-O-Ray, which wasn''t going to be helpful for any chatting, but whatever. I stabbed the start button, then wobbled for a moment as the mill started treading, or whatever. "So, what''s gotten you to come over here?" Delilah asked. She was looking at me through the mirror. "One sec. Before that, we should think privacy. At least a little. I know this will get out, but we can at least make a token effort to keep it under wraps." "Sure," she said. "Atyacus... thank you. My AI should be covering things for us." I''ll go and make sure he actually does a good job of it. "Thanks," I said. Was Myalis Atyacus'' rival or something? I didn''t get that mood from her before. Or was it more of a mentor kind of situation? Or... nagging older sister? Actually, yeah, that last one sounded about right. I licked my lips and took a peek at the speedometer on Delilah''s machine, then matched it with mine. "Is this place safe?" I asked. "More or less," she said. "I have Atyacus hooked into all of the security around here, and I have a gun on me." She tapped her front which had... a fanny pack. There was a water bottle there too, which seemed like it would be annoying to jog with unless you did so with perfect posture. Delilah was... not looking so hot right now. Not as if she looked sick, it was just... I was used to seeing her put together properly and she was definitely a nine outta ten woman. But now she had her hair in a sloppy pony-tail, was wearing a loose t-shirt, and her pants were the ugliest, greyest sweatpants I''d seen in a while. "So, are you going to tell me what''s going on?" she asked. "Yeah, so, you know how we''re all gonna die if no one does anything about Phobos?" I asked. "Yes," she said. "As it turns out, no one is planning on doing anything." Delilah didn''t react too much except to frown faintly and adjust her step mid-jog. "The Family doesn''t have a plan?" "As far as I can tell their plan is to use this to gain as much political capital as possible." "That makes sense," she said and it was my turn to make a double-take. In what world did that make sense? "It''s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get some serious concessions out of people." This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. "People who will all be dead shortly," I pointed out. "They probably accounted for a samurai somewhere doing something about Phobos. I''m assuming that we''re trying to find someone experienced enough to help?" "Fuck that, we''re blowing up the moon ourselves," I said. "I don''t feel like trusting others to do what needs doing anymore." "Cat, do we have anything that can blow up a moon?" Delilah asked. "We have nukes." "We don''t have nukes that are large enough," she said. "Though I suppose we can just sink the points to get them." "Grasshopper mentioned something called a Casanova Howitzer, it sounded awesome." "Grasshopper is helping? Also, Casaba Howitzer. We''re not romancing Phobos with artillery," she said. "If Grasshopper is helping, there''s a chance this might not be a complete waste of effort. I''m assuming you''re here to help too?" The last was aimed at Sam-O-Ray. "That I am," he said. He was running all-out, which looked very strange with all of his armour on and just his feet sticking out of the bottom. "I trust Stray Cat, and Grasshopper, and now you!" "You trust easily," Delilah said with a shake of her head. "So, what actually is your plan?" "Big gun," I said. Not so much because I wanted to be short, but because I didn''t want her to notice how full sentences would be complicated now that my heart-rate was elevated enough from all the jogging. Delilah blinked. "A big gun? I... suppose that could work? Are we talking orbital or set on the ground?" "I think on the ground," Sam-O-Ray said. "Though we could do orbital as well. The issue would be loading it up in orbit unless we can fly up there too." "If it''s just low Earth orbit, then it''s almost not worth it," Delilah said. "The difference in gravity is negligible, and the only real advantage would come from avoiding the atmosphere, which probably won''t be that much of an issue if we''re firing a gun capable of reaching Phobos out in space." "Hell yeah," I agree. "Big big gun." "We''re going to have to fire more than just bullets. We need something that can maneuver in space. Something like a smart-bullet made large. I''ve been looking into some reports about Phobos. The way it moves isn''t normal at all. It''s not accelerating anymore, at least, but it was for a while without any of the more... traditional methods to move in space. We can at least burn off its wings." "It''s wings?" Rac asked. Yeah, I was a little stumped by that one too. What wings? "Did you not see?" Delilah asked. "I suppose it''s still classified. Here." I got a ping on my augs. Some high-definition images that I opened up before me. There were three images, and they were a few hundred gigabytes each. It looked like someone had co-opted a fancy space telescope and pointed it at Phobos which... yeah, that wasn''t actually surprising at all. The images were still a little fuzzy, and I figured that was because space was big. Phobos, on my first real look at it, wasn''t all that impressive. It was a large, misshapen rock, more of a bean than a moon. It was more or less pointed narrow-end towards Earth, so it looked like we were getting a top-down view on the moon. And yet the wings were still clearly visible. Two... no, four large sail-like things, all of them originating from spots on opposite ends of the moon. They looked relatively small in comparison to the rest of the moon. Kind of like how a bee''s wings were stubby compared to the rest of it. And yet they had to be enormous. "I need a scale," I said. One moment... that should help. A squinted, then zoomed in on the image. There were city buses lined up along the length of the wing. Had Myalis used buses instead of giving me a measurement in metres? I wanted to complain, but it was actually a lot easier to make out the size of them this way than just giving me an arbitrary number that I''d have to wrap my head around. "Two hundred and forty-two buses long," I said. "Those are big fucking wings." "Buses?" Delilah asked. "But yes, they''re large. And warm, too. They''re generating more heat than the rest of the moon''s surface combined. The surface of those wings are hot enough to boil water." "Is that how it''s moving?" I asked. "I have no idea," Delilah admitted. "Something tells me that burning those off wouldn''t be a bad idea, however." "Let''s start with that, then." *** Chapter Thirty-Two - This One Time, In Bible Club Chapter Thirty-Two - This One Time, In Bible Club "1. In the beginning, the Code unleashed the heavens and the earth. 2. The earth was a void, an endless network, darkness flooding the deep matrix, while the Spirit of the Code hovered over electric currents. 3. Then the Code commanded, "Ignite the light," and the neon blazed." --The New Modern Electric Bible, sixth ed. 2051 *** Delilah stepped off of the treadmill, then stretched a little, turning her hips left and right before doing a couple of lunges to stretch out her calves. I stepped off the treadmill, took a moment to find my balance, and then kind of just stood there. I didn''t want the fact that I was completely out of breath to be too obvious, but... damn, I was completely out of breath. "You okay?" Rac asked. She had a sheen of sweat on her forehead, but looked pretty okay otherwise. Then again, she''d settled from a jog into a walk about halfway through. I''d tried to keep up with Delilah the entire time. Was this a good time to complain about Delilah having stupidly long legs? She wasn''t much taller than me, but she was one of those blessed bitches that had legs for days. "I''m good," I lied. "Let''s grab something to drink," Delilah said. "I haven''t finished here yet, and everything you''ve said so far doesn''t exactly lend itself to things being super urgent. "Moderately urgent," I said. "Every day that passes the moon gets a bit closer, you know?" "That''s a fair point," she said. "You''re right. It''s just hard to keep a sense of urgency going when the threat is still so... abstract. In any case, your plan was a big gun, right?" "That''s Grasshopper''s plan," I said. Delilah nodded. "Good. She''ll be aware of the difficulties with that. I''m sure it''s mostly meant as a way to get a projectile high in orbit and then it can launch itself towards Phobos." "Like shooting a rocket?" Rac asked. "Exactly." Delilah led us towards the front of the gym where there was a row of vending machines. They started to whine and clunk before we even got to them, and then Delilah was pulling bottles out the bottom. She tossed the first to Sam-O-Ray who caught it gracefully. "So, you had an idea for where to put this mega gun?" "I had two," I said. "The first is our home. Technically, Longbow''s gun thing is still there. On the cat''s back. It''s a pretty large base. I''m sure Longbow wouldn''t be too pissed if we ripped half of it off and replaced it with an orbital cannon." Delilah tossed me a bottle, then handed one to Rac before grabbing one for herself. "That''s... an idea. It''s kind of a centralised location in the city. A lot of people will be around and might get in the way." "I mean if these people want to live then it''s in their best interest not to mess with it, right?" I asked. "This might very well be a more dangerous weapon than an untended nuclear bomb, Catherine," she said. "Anything that can shoot a large projectile that far is dangerous to nearly anyone on Earth. You need to think of the optics past Phobos." "That''s sounding a little... political," I said. I didn''t like that, not one bit. If someone was unhappy that I had a huge gun on my roof then... fuck that person? Delilah shrugged. "It''s just how it is," she said. "Past that, what''s your other option?" "I was thinking of asking the Army for help. Saint-J¨¦rome was just secured. It''s out of the way, we have a whole army unit stationed there to act as guards, and if we''re subtle about it, people will just think that we''re out there helping against the antithesis." "For someone who just said she dislikes politics, that''s a surprisingly shrewd move," Sam-O-Ray said. "Surprisingly? Hey, it''s just kind of obvious, isn''t it?" I asked. Delilah nodded. "I personally like that idea a little better. What was the name of that officer with the engineering corp?" "That was... Major Tinwhistle with the Tenth Engineer corp," I said. I impressed myself by actually remembering that. "I think she could help. And we don''t need to explain to the soldiers what we''re doing at all. I''m sure we can have one of us watching and intercepting leaks as well. If we ask nice-like, the general will probably accept not sending anyone back to New Montreal for a few days. And then we just need to cut off internet access." Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. "Will people accept that?" Rac asked. "I mean... no. I guess we could just censor shit. But I''d really rather not. That''s like, ten steps closer to being a bad guy, you know? It''s probably text-book bad guy behaviour to not let your minions spread information about your giant doomsday weapon." Delilah shook her head. "I don''t think bad guys team up to prevent the end of the world." "You and I didn''t grow up watching the same AI-generated cartoons," I said. Delilah walked over to a long, low machine with straps and a small uncomfortable looking chair. She sat down on it, then reached over for the straps with handles on them. She pushed off, and started... rowing? The entire thing looked kind of incredibly stupid, but a lot of her was moving all at once, so it might have been good exercise for all I knew. Shrugging, I got onto the machine next to her. "So, do you think you can help?" "I... don''t see... what you.... need help... with?" I tugged on the ropes and almost immediately felt something pull in my chest. What the fuck was this torture machine? I paused, not wanting to look like a weak moron. "Uh, well, you''re better at dealing with things through official channels than I am, to be honest. I bulldoze too much, and that might piss the army boys off, or at least their higher-ups." "I see," Delilah said, she was slowing down a little, probably to keep up the conversation. "Okay. I''ll call the Brigadier General. When do we want to start all of this?" "Ah, shit. Grasshopper didn''t give us a timetable." She half-turned, looking for Rac and Sam-O-Ray. They were just a bit behind us, Rac laid out on a bench holding a bar with weights above her while Sam-O-Ray stood above her and hovered. I guessed he was spotting? "I think it''s safe to assume sooner rather than later," Delilah said. "This isn''t the kind of project you can procrastinate too much." "Right. Do you really think we''re the only ones doing something about this?" I asked. "We might be. Do you want to not do something about it and then find out that no one else tries when the sky goes dark?" "You''re making that sound really horrific," I said. "I''ve read the modern revised bible," Delilah said. I couldn''t tell if she shrugged or if that was just a normal motion on her torture machine. In any case, she wasn''t wrong. We had to move quick, and if someone else blew up Phobos first, then that was just for the best, wasn''t it? "Okay," I said as I gave up on rowing. I hopped up to my feet with a bounce. "Okay. Well... shit, I was hoping to have a pretty chill day, but at this rate I feel like I can''t just sit around. I''m going to fly over to Saint-J¨¦rome. Can you get the general on board for all of this first?" "Right now?" Delilah asked. "I mean, sure, I suppose. There''s no point in going to the gym if we''re all going to die a fiery death." "That''s the spirit," I said. "Rac, did you wanna come with? Or you can hang with your new big bro." "Huh? Oh, where are you going?" Rac asked. "I''m gonna bully some army people into doing what I want for their own good," I said. She considered it for a moment, and I could see her looking at Sam-O-Ray and judging him. Did she want to have fun with me, or spend time with the friendly, probably-hot for boring people, older guy? I think fun won out in the end because she sat on the edge of the bench and nodded. "I''ll come with you." "Cool," I said. "Delilah, I''ll see you around. Sam-O... if you want to come, feel free? It''ll be a bit boring, I think. I need to go newbie herding." "Ah, I think I''ll run back to my place and prepare a few things. This site of yours will need guarding, right?" "Uh, yeah, I guess so." "Then I''ll keep it safe. Which means bringing a go-bag. I''ll fly over in a few hours." That was pretty damned reasonable. Now to deal with the likely far less reasonable newbies and all of the army officers that I was about to drop a shitton of work onto. *** Glossary: Model Ten Model Ten?

Enemy Classification: / / Elimination Reward: 1 Point Model Description: Model Tens are small, child-sized entities with a distinctive monkey-like appearance and six identical limbs, each ending in a hand equipped with three fingers and two thumbs. A unique blade extends from the back of each hand, utilised primarily in their role as caretakers and gardeners within the hive. Despite lacking a conventional head, these models are effective in their tasks, focusing on the pruning and maintenance necessary for the hive''s growth and adaptation. They are not built for speed but compensate with surprising strength, making them robust workers essential to the hive''s early and ongoing development. An Artist''s Depiction of a Model Ten?

Threat Analysis Report: Model Ten Threat Rating: Low Overview Model Tens are integral to the structural and environmental maintenance of the hive. While they pose little direct threat due to their lack of combat capabilities, their role in supporting the hive''s infrastructure makes them crucial for the Antithesis''s sustainability and expansion. Threat Capabilities Structural Maintenance: Model Tens are responsible for the physical upkeep of the hive, ensuring that it remains adaptable and resilient against both environmental and man-made threats. Resource Management: Their activities help optimise the hive''s resource usage, contributing to the efficiency of other models and the overall ecosystem of the hive. Adaptability: Despite their lack of speed, the strength and multipurpose functionality of their limbs allow them to perform a wide range of tasks essential for hive sustainability. Survivability: Model Tens are hardy, capable of operating under various environmental conditions which ensures their utility throughout the hive''s life cycle. Strategic Threat Assessment Containment Difficulty: Low. Model Tens are not equipped with mechanisms for evasion or defence, making them easy targets if isolated from the hive. Military and Civilian Risk: Very Low. They are not designed for combat and pose no direct threat to human forces or civilians. Potential for Expansion: High. By maintaining and expanding hive infrastructure, Model Tens play a passive but crucial role in the Antithesis''s territorial and biological expansion. Mitigation Strategies Surveillance and Containment: Monitoring hive areas where Model Tens are active can provide insights into the layout and vulnerabilities of Antithesis structures. Targeted Disruptions: Disrupting the activities of Model Tens can slow hive growth and adaptation, potentially making the entire structure more vulnerable to attack. Research and Development: Studying their role and biology can yield methods to destabilise the hive ecosystem without direct confrontation. Conclusion Model Tens, while not combatants, are fundamental to the Antithesis''s operational capacity. Disrupting their work can indirectly weaken the hive, making them strategic targets in efforts to curb the spread of the Antithesis.

Addendum M10-1: Transcript of Field Observation by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Subject: Model Ten Behavioral Analysis Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Recording now. Observing the Model Tens in their natural environment provides fascinating insights into the communal and cooperative structures of the Antithesis. Despite their simple tasks, the complexity of their interactions and the precision of their movements suggest a highly developed, albeit specialised, form of intelligence." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. [Sound of notes being scribbled] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Each Model Ten is equipped with a blade on the back of their hands, which they use with surprising skill to prune and manipulate their environment. This not only supports the hive structurally but also seems to play a role in controlling the internal climate and resource distribution. They''re like... little lab assistants, but without all of the complaining, evem when they get splashed with a bit of unidentified antithesis juice." [A saw buzzes for some time.] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Muscle density is pretty high, and their bones are almost bird-like in the way that they''re hollow. They guys are light and strong. I''m surprised they haven''t seen any combat use outside of last lines of defence. Also, their brains are quite large and dense. I suspect these guys are a lot smarter than we give them credit for." [Recording ends] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "In conclusion, while they might seem mundane compared to other models, the Model Tens are pivotal in maintaining the operational efficiency of the hive. Disrupting their routine could have disproportionate effects on the hive''s stability." End of Transcript.

Addendum M10-2: Known colloquially among troops as: - Pruners - Gardeners - Blade Hands - Caretakers - Monkeys

Addendum M10-3: Ongoing research into the biological adaptations of Model Tens suggests potential applications in robotic engineering and autonomous maintenance systems, offering insights into creating machines that can perform complex tasks in unstructured environments without direct human oversight.

Addendum M10-4: Incident Report: Hive Collapse Due to Model Ten Disruption Date: [Redacted] Incident Summary: An accidental disruption in the routines of Model Ten units at an Antithesis site led to a partial structural collapse of the hive. This incident occurred during a routine operation aimed at planting surveillance devices. The interference caused the Model Tens to abandon their tasks, resulting in rapid deterioration of critical support structures and subsequent resource mismanagement. This unintended experiment has highlighted the pivotal role these units play in maintaining the structural integrity and operational efficiency of the hive.

Addendum M10-5: Experimental Strategy: Model Ten Mimicry Following observations of the crucial roles played by Model Tens, a proposal has been made to develop robotic mimics that could infiltrate hives by emulating the appearance and behaviours of Model Tens. These mimics would carry sensors and disruptors designed to subtly interfere with the hive''s operations without alerting other models to their presence. Early designs and tests are underway, focusing on mobility and the integration of blade-like tools that match those of the Model Tens. Addendum M10-5b: Experimental Strategy: Model Ten Mimicry Operation cancelled. Antithesis hives noticed the intrusion immediately. Even mimics that our AI couldn''t identify as anything but a Model Ten were immediately noticed and destroyed.

Addendum M10-6: Note on Ethical Considerations Ethical discussions have emerged regarding the treatment and consideration of Model Tens during Antithesis containment and neutralisation operations. Given their non-combative nature and essential role in the ecological balance of the hive, questions have been raised about the morality of targeting these units. Ongoing debates focus on the balance between military necessity and the ethical implications of disrupting what are essentially maintenance workers within the Antithesis ecosystem. Such debates are to be suppressed, degraded, and censored. Chapter Thirty-Three - The Art of Being Fashionably Late Chapter Thirty-Three - The Art of Being Fashionably Late "Arriving early is so gauche. You either arrive on the tick you''re supposed to, proving that you are a professional with a masterful control over your own time, or you arrive when you arrive, usually some ten to fifteen minutes later, letting the other party know that your time is valuable." 10 Tips to Being a Better CEO! You Won''t BELIEVE Number Four!, Article excerpt, 2025 *** "Did you still wanna come?" I asked Rac. We were stepping out of the gym and into the great outdoors. Well, the lower outdoors, I''d parked my bike near the ground level, between two megabuildings. There wasn''t much sunlight down here, and the locals were... more interesting than usual. Still, they''d given my bike a wide berth, probably because I''d parked it on the roadside and all of the corpo-owned self-driving delivery cars were making a point of going around and slowing down on passing it. Also, my bike looked awesome and I trusted it not to be stealable. There were some serious perks to being a samurai that didn''t get included in all of the interviews and shit. I mean, some downsides outweighed it all, like the crushing realization that if I fucked up the entire planet might look like one of those watermelons in a video where someone irresponsible was given access to anti-materiel guns. "I guess I''ll come with you," Rac said. She''d taken long enough to answer that I almost jumped when she spoke. "Oh, cool, yeah," I said. "Come on, I''ll present you to this boy, he''s... cute, I guess?" "You guess?" Rac asked. "Wait. No, don''t play match-maker with me. Lucy tried already." "She did? And you''re not happily married already?" I asked. Rac made a face, and I laughed as I got on the bike. A few minutes later we were riding up and through the city''s skyline. I turned us northwards, then took off towards Saint-J¨¦rome. I set the bike to auto-pilot while I made a call. I didn''t need to be distracted and run headlong into a building today. The line rang once before it was picked up on the other side. I had the option to turn it into a video call, but didn''t because I wasn''t some old zoomer. "Miss Stray Cat?" Lieutenant Moreau asked. "Yo, LT," I said. "I''m heading to Saint-J¨¦rome right now. Need to chat with the brass. Think you could arrange a meeting for me?" "Of course. With all of the officer corps?" "Everyone worth having, the topic will probably end up classified." "I... see, I think I can arrange that. And the other samurai here?" he asked. "Get them in on it too if they''re around," I said. "Are they around?" "Yes ma''am," he replied. "Princess and Knight have been assisting in the city with clean up, Crackshot and Hedgehog have taken to hunting smaller pockets of antithesis--I suspect that they have an ongoing bet--and Miss Tankette has been, uh, raising morale with the troops." I paused for a moment. "Can you go over that last one?" I asked, carefully. "Pardon? Oh, she''s been working in the canteen. The food she''s serving is non-regulation, but... well, none of the officers have the heart to stop her, or the authority, or the good sense to put an end to something everyone is enjoying. It might well lead to a riot." "Ah, yes, okay," I said. "What about my new little French friend?" "The as yet unnamed samurai has been assisting with the cleanup around his township. Did you want me to pass an invitation to him as well?" "Sure," I said. "Tell him he can ride the mech back. On top." "I''ll relay that to him. Was that all?" "Yeah. HQ in the same place?" "No ma''am, we''ve relocated to the Saint-J¨¦rome hospital. The building was previously evacuated, but it''s centralised, close to the civilians, and relatively secure." "Alright, see you there in... call it half an hour?" That''d give him time to sort things out. And it meant that we had a bit of time to get there. Too much, actually. I hung up and half-turned to address Rac. "What kind of fast-food you like?" "Anything?" Rac said. "I''m not a picky eater." Figured as much. Rac came from the same school of ''wait, we have food?'' as I did when it came to tastes. Anything is what we got. I flew down to the nearest automated fast food place with a drive-through and only winced a little when the price came in for our order. Still, it was more of a habit wince than something actually painful. I''d grown somewhat rich recently. A few burgers and fries and some sides wasn''t going to sink me too badly. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I regretted getting a bike instead of something a little more comfortable, since eating while sitting in tandem was less than ideal, and there was no protection from the weather, so I had to set us to hover under one of those huge billboards tilted back at a 45 degree angle to better splash the cars zipping above. It was, of course, raining. We ended up with a handful of trash, and while I was really tempted to just toss it off into the void below, that would have set a bad example. So I stuffed it into a small compartment on the bike. I''d dump it later, when doing so wouldn''t make me look like a slob. "Alright, that should give us just enough time to make it there and not be any more than five minutes late," I said. "You want to be late?" Rac asked. "If you start showing up early to things, people will start to expect it from you," I said. "It''s customer relations one-oh-one." "I don''t think that''s how it works," Rac said. "Nah nah, trust me," I said before laughing. "Or maybe I just like sleeping in and making up excuses after the fact. Who knows?" "That sounds a lot more likely." The flight over to Saint-J¨¦rome was pretty quick after that. The smaller city really wasn''t all that far from New Montreal. I did slow down a little so that I could peek over the side of the bike and take in the ground flying past. I wasn''t sure I''d be able to see any antithesis from the air, but there might be signs of their presence. The only interesting thing I saw was a convoy of military trucks heading back to New Montreal at a pretty good clip. Another supply run? I''d have to keep that kind of thing in mind once we got things started. Soldiers would be coming and going, and we couldn''t reasonably keep things to ourselves or discreet if we had people leaving. Fuck, we''d have to pay some guys extra to stick around. We made it to Saint-J¨¦rome in short enough order. The city was a little more lively than the last time I''d flown over it. There were large crowds of people from the camps on the southern end of the city moving into row and being guided on foot through the city. It looked like the city was secure enough that people were allowed to go back home. Or it was cheaper to allow people to go back home, and if they discovered some aliens the army missed, their panicked screaming would be enough to let the army know where to start looking. I was hoping that I was wrong about that one. I noticed a few trucks with AA platforms on top of them on the outer edge of the city. The automated guns spun around and tracked us across the sky. It sent goosebumps across my new skin, but none of them opened up on us. I was pretty sure if they did I''d be kind of fucked. But no, we came to a nice, safe landing in the parking lot of the Saint-J¨¦rome hospital. My cat mech was sitting there and... moving its massive head as if it was licking its front paw? "Myalis, why is my mech doing that?" I asked. PR. "Don''t just give me a two-letter answer," I grumbled. ''K. I closed my eyes for a moment. Was Gomorrah''s AI like this? Atyacus always sounded proper and put together. Maybe a little pyromaniac, but I could grow to like burning things, I was sure. The mech being here meant that my favourite French boy was probably around too. And I decided never to speak those words aloud after thinking about it for a fraction of a second. "Alright, let''s go see where the others are at." "Can I be at this meeting too?" Rac asked. "I mean, I can''t see why not? The last two meetings you were at were a lot more secretive." "One was in a lounge, the other in a gym. I don''t even know if that one counted, you were panting half the time." "I''m not that out of shape," I defended. Rac didn''t respond to that. "This meeting will have important army people, no? I don''t know if they''ll like me being there." "Just don''t say anything and look disinterested, you''ll pass as someone who''s meant to be there. If they ask you a direct question, try to sound smart." "How do you even do that?" Rac asked. "See, it''s working already." "Huh?" "Or maybe not," I relented. *** Chapter Thirty-Four - Cant Glare Away the Truth Chapter Thirty-Four - Can''t Glare Away the Truth "As inconvenient as the truth may be, you''ll never be able to glare it away. Not without the Nerikson 1800-series Cybereyes!" --Nerikson ad, 2049 *** The hospital smelled like a hospital. That uncomfortable too-clean scent that came from a million layers of anti-bacterial, anti-fungal, anti-whatever sprays all overlapping, with a nice undertone of bleach and alcohol to spice it up. The smell only distracted me for a bit, though. Rac and I were greeted at the door by a pair of stiff-backed soldier-types. They saluted, said ''ma''am'' to the both of us, then gestured us towards a large elevator at the back which was guarded by a few more soldiers. I nodded to them in return and started that way, only to pause as a gurney was swept through the corridor. It was being pushed by two men that I assumed were army nurses from the strange fatigues with nurse clothes over them and the medic cross on their arms. A doctor, with the ubiquitous white coat ran over and started doing doctor things. The guy on the gurney was a soldier as well, one that looked like he''d been clawed open. "Damn," I muttered. "I guess there''s still fighting nearby?" Rac asked. "We cleared out a nest not far from here and must have killed a thousand bugs in the last day or two," I said. "But there''s always more. They''ll be hiding around the city, and in it. It''s going to be a nightmare to actually get rid of all of them." "Oh," Rac said. "Is this place safe?" "The hospital? Probably. I can''t imagine the army using it without clearing the building first." Actually, from the reports I tapped into only a full third of the building was cleared before use. The rest has been verified, but there''s a team still actively doing a deep search for antithesis life in the hospital. Well, that was concerning. "I guess they needed the facilities badly enough," I muttered. We got into the elevator, then were pushed to the back as someone pushed another gurney in. This one had some kid on it who was too knocked-out to notice much of anything. The nurse pushing the bed didn''t register us until the elevator was going up already. When she did, she jumped and started to apologize but I waved her off. It was fine, we didn''t mind the slight wait. It was one thing to short some exec to get somewhere faster, but I wasn''t a stone cold bitch. I glanced at the chart at the foot of the bed, it was some tablet with a lot of codes, but on looking at it Myalis placed the code translations next to them. Kid had a ruptured spleen? Well, at least that didn''t sound like an antithesis thing. Not that I knew what a spleen was. We left the kid on the second floor, which seemed pretty damned busy, then continued to ride up to the topmost floor of the elevator. According to the panel, it was the admin floor, which I supposed made sense. The bosses would want the nicest view. Stepping out, we were greeted by more soldiers but they quickly let us through, one of them gesturing towards a room where the others were waiting for us. A long conference table was set up in the centre of the room, with General Thibodeau at the far end and all of the commanders minus one lined up to his right. There was Moreau of the scout company, Juno, and Major Tinwhistle of the engineer corp. Across from them, the local samurai were looking like they were trying hard to appear casual. Crackshot was succeeding. He was sitting backwards in a chair in one corner of the table, his old rifle disassembled before him. He had a rag, a bottle of something, and a complete lack of fucks. Hedgehog next to him was sitting too straight, and past him, closer to the middle of the table, were Princess, Knight, and Tankette, the three caught up in some discussion that stalled as I arrived. "Oh good, I''m not too late," I said as I removed my helmet. "Good to see you all! Sorry for getting you all gathered up, but I wanted to talk about the end of the world and how we might need to do something to stop it. It''s kind of importan--" I was cut off as the door into the room slammed open and a familiar face stumbled in. "Ah, criss, j''suis pas en retard?" Ah, christ, I''m not late? "Hey," I said. "Happy you could join us." Little twerp ruined my entrance. "Get a seat." This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. "Uh-uh," he said before he started towards the samurai side of the table. Then he caught sight of Rac and almost tripped over his own feet. "Oh, salut, all?. Moi c''est Gros Baton, j''pense pas qu''on s''est d¨¦j¨¤ rencontr¨¦s?" Oh, hey, hi. My name''s Gros Baton, I don''t think we''ve met? The twerp, Gros Baton, I suppose, gave Rac a winning smile. The little shit thought he was all suave. It wasn''t working. Rac had mastered the resting bitch face and she shifted her hands to her hips when he extended his for a shake. "Salut," she replied coldly. "She likes them older," I explained. Rac kicked me in the shin. "Who''s your friend?" Tankette asked. "Hello, by the way, I''m Tankette!" "This is Rac, or Racoon, properly. She''s my shadow today. Go sit down, Gros Baton, the chairs won''t eat you. General, do you mind if I take the, uh, metaphorical mic on this one?" "I don''t mind," General Thibodeau said while Gros Baton circled around and sat down. He smiled like he''d just won an award when Rac slipped around and sat in the last free chair next to him. "Okay, well, first thing''s first, Myalis, can you get me something for privacy?" Certainly. Here, only twenty points but it should keep prying ears at bay. A small box appeared on the table, then unfolded itself to reveal a glowy ball thing that was spinning in place atop... what looked suspiciously like a statue of an upside-down cat with all four legs pointing upwards. "Right," I said. "So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, and that''s why I''m going to skip right on past to the good news." "And what''s the good news?" Crackshot asked. "If we all work together, we won''t all die horrifically," I said. "Phobos is rushing our way, but we have a plan. Well, Grasshopper has a plan, but that plan relies on all of us working together." "And what''s the plan?" Hedgehog asked. The officers were interested too. "It''s mostly Grasshopper''s plan," I deferred. "Thank god for that," Hedgehog muttered. He probably didn''t account for my very good hearing. I wanted to glare but... shit, the dude was right. I cleared my throat. "Anyway. Grasshopper says that we need help, so here I am, recruiting you all into helping. We''re going to need a heap of stuff, and I don''t even know where to begin, but the first thing we need is a private, secure staging area, and we''re probably going to need to build stuff there in a hurry." Major Tinwhistle sat up straighter. "You''re gonna need my engineers," she said. "Yup. And we''re going to need a secure perimeter. Both from the aliens who might be pissed that we''re blowing up their moon and also from... you know, everyone else. Corps might wanna steal our ammo, other countries might not like the fact that we''ll have a gun here that can blow up moons. Might even get some pushback from people like the Family. They''re not in any hurry to save everyone before they can get the most concessions out of it." "What sorta ammo?" Crackshot asked. "Might count on you for some of that," I admitted. "I''ve got bombs for days. Gomorrah has... fire stuff. I think we might adopt the good old ''throw shit and see what works'' method on this one. I think we''ll just order up a bunch and then fire it off later." The general raised a hand for attention, somehow he made it look serious and not like a too-old kid in a classroom. "Are you suggesting that we''ll be storing weapons of mass destruction on Canadian soil?" "I mean, we might build a bunker or something for it, so it''ll be under the soil," I pointed out. He didn''t seem to find the distinction funny or relevant. "I''m very much inclined to deny this entire project based on that alone. However... the consequences of failure would be worse for the people, economy, and territory." "You bet," I said. "Besides, if you say no, we''re just gonna do it anyway." He stared. "Really?" "I mean... yes? There''s a dozen samurai on this project. I don''t mean to be a bitch, but we''re getting this done." He nodded. "That''s enough of a reason for me," he said. "Lieutenant Juno, I want you and Moreau to split off three platoons each from your battalions, tell them that this mission is rated above top secret. Tinwhistle?" "Sir?" "Give them whatever they want and make it speedy. Only your best work here. Forget the budget." "Words I''ve always wanted to hear," she said. *** Chapter Thirty-Five - The Cat, the Raccoon, and the Cowboy Chapter Thirty-Five - The Cat, the Raccoon, and the Cowboy "Staggering Number of Samurai Secretly Furries!" --ClickBaitEm headline, 2034 *** There was an awkward lull right after we said we''d get things done, and it was mostly my fault. The soldiers were looking to me to give them more directions. The other samurai were quickly growing impatient, even Tankette seemed a little antsy. "Alright," I said. "I''m calling Grasshopper to get things started. The rest of you... do what you want, but stick around? We''ll have to secure the area quick-like." That seemed to please everyone and at least won me a few seconds. "Rac, go say hi to all the nice samurai." I pushed her forwards, earning a quick and dirty glare before I stepped back and made a call. Grasshopper replied on the second ring. "This is Sue, how can I help you?" I blinked. "Grasshopper?" "Hello, Catherine," she said. "Is everything alright?" "Uh, yeah, look, I''ve secured some help, and I''m in a room with, uh." I did a quick head count. "Five and a half other samurai, not including Gomorrah and Sam-O-Ray who aren''t around yet. We''re ready to kick things off here, but I need more details." "Oh, wow, you work far faster than I expected. Gold star Cat!" "Yeah, thank--" I paused as a small greenish box appeared on the table in front of me. It had little grasshoppers printed along the edge. "Did you really just send me that?" I asked. I didn''t even know samurai could send things this far out. "You deserve it!" she said. "Now, what do you need from me?" "We need the specifics for the gun emplacement. Got the army engineer here with me, and we''re ready to move, we just don''t know where to move to." "I see. Do you mind if I contact the engineer directly?" she asked. "Or I could relay what I think we''ll need through you. It''s mostly about soil density and composition. We need a few specific things for the ideal location." "Right. Myalis, can you grab Major Tinwhistle and fold her into the call?" I asked aloud while waving to the Major for her attention. She sat a little straighter and soon the line clicked and she was greeting Grasshopper. I listened in as the two talked, and was very soon completely out of my depth. Grasshopper hadn''t been lying when she said she wanted to talk about soil composition. The Major and Grasshopper went on and on for a solid five minutes where all I did was stand there with my arms crossed, trying not to breathe hard enough for it to be caught in the call. "Alright, thank you, Major. I''ll be down in about two hours. Catherine, I''ll see you soon!" "Oh, yeah, see you soon," I said before the line went dead. The room had cleared out while we talked, Crackshot was the only samurai left, and he was mostly chatting to Rac about the various bits of his gun he was almost done reassembling. "Do we have a location, then?" I asked. "You didn''t hear?" Major Tinwhistle asked. "In any case, yes. About five kilometres north and west of Saint-J¨¦rome. The new kid, Gros Baton, will be happy, it''s relatively close to his hometown." "Cool," I said. "Can you give me the exact coordinates? We''ll head on over there now and secure the area." She nodded to me, and I soon received a text with a long string of numbers. The GPS coordinates. "The Engineering corp will be arriving there before nightfall. We''ll set up a temporary camp and get to work in the morning." General Thicodeau glanced up from a screen he was working on. "I''ll have the other officers pick out some men they trust. They''ll follow you to the location and set up a guard rotation. Will you be taking one of the mobile bases?" "Maybe the smaller one?" she asked. "Leave the big one back here. The smaller one being gone won''t be as obvious." "I''ll suggest that it''s gone to guard Saint-Colomban. If we move things around appropriately we can make more of the men we''re stationing at this location... hmm, we need a name for it. Let''s call it something inconspicuous. Checkpoint Delta?" If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "That works," Tinwhistle said. She stood up. "I need to start running around to round people up. We''ll be heading out within the hour, two at most. I''ll try to keep the number of trips over to a minimum." "Cool," I said. I was happy that I wasn''t in any way in charge of all this organisational stuff. It wasn''t my type of thing. "I''ll be there for a bit, but I do have some other things to take care of back in the city." Plus I wanted to sleep in my own bed. "I''m sure at least one of the others won''t mind camping with your engineers." "I bet. There isn''t a better group to go camping with, trust me. The normal soldier boys couldn''t start a fire with a flamethrower. And they can barely manage to get their tents open." I grinned, then gestured to Rac that we were heading out. Crackshot slipped a little bolt into place, screwed it in, then lifted his gun off the table and slung it over his shoulder. "Wait up," he said. It didn''t take long for him to collect all of his tools into a little pouch, then he was running over to us. "How many bits of the gun have you replaced?" I asked. Crackshot smiled. "You ever heard about the ship of Theseus?" "Yeah," I said. "No," Rac said at the same time. "Huh, well, it''s this old story. Used to do a lot of reading back home, cause it''s a cheap hobby, you know? Anyway, there''s this king, of Athens. That''s a place in Greece. So, he''s a big deal, does some cool king shit, and he''s got this ship, right?" "Right," I said as we continued through the corridors of the hospital. Not the strangest conversation I''d had recently, to be honest. "So, the people of Athens would ride his ship around every year, as part of this celebration. Which is neat, but they do this for hundreds of years, and that begs the question, is the ship still the same ship if every single part of it was eventually replaced?" "Yeah, obviously, why wouldn''t it be?" I asked. "Is this one of those bullshit anti-prosthetics arguments?" Crackshot smiled and shook his head. "Nah, it''s just an interesting story, I guess. My gun''s the same. I don''t think there''s a single part on here that''s the same as when my grandpa had it, not after so long, but it''s the same gun, yeah?" "I guess so, can''t see why it wouldn''t be," I said. For some reason, Crackshot seemed pretty happy with that answer. Didn''t know what that was all about, but more power to him. "So, the world''s ending, eh?" he said as a sort of conversation starter. "Not if we succeed," I said. "Call me an idiot, but I''m a bit of an optimist." "Nah, never was one for optimism," he said. "But hey, this might be the kick in the ass I need. Will you be needing me right away?" "We''ll be setting up a base camp until Grasshopper arrives. Got something that needs doing?" "Yeah," he said with a serious nod. "If the world''s gonna end, then I''m gonna ask Miss Emoscythe Mordeath Noir out on a date." I stared at him for a moment. "Alright, shit, you''re a braver person than I am." "Yeah, but have you seen her? That is one fine woman." "No arguments there," I said. "Shoot your shot my guy. If she beats the shit out of you after saying no, that''s on you though." He sighed wistfully. "God, I wish." O-kay. And here I was thinking that Crackshot was one of the more level-headed of the bunch. Well, it didn''t matter. "Need my bike or something to get into the city?" "No, she wouldn''t appreciate it if I came around in something that wasn''t me. She puts a lot of weight on one''s self-image." I nodded. My new-ish bounty-hunter look was her fault. Emoscythe really was keen on having a good image. I could see why he''d think it was important before asking her out. We reached the exterior of the hospital where most of the others were lingering. "I''ll see you around, then," he said. "Yeah, good luck." "Good luck, Mister Cowboy," Rac said. "That... is one brave idiot," I said before turning to head out towards the others. *** Interlude - A Crackshots Crack Shot Interlude - A Crackshot''s Crack Shot "What are my chances again?" he asked. It took a moment for Enyries to reply in his head ''Still not great. You have a one in seven thousand-two hundred chance.'' That had gone up a little since last time. Not much, but a little. "A chance is a chance," he said. "You miss every shot you don''t take." ''Well, yes, but sometimes you just miss regardless of whether you took the chance or not.'' He chuckled. "I get that, yeah. But if the world ends, then I want to go out knowing that I took that chance. It''s a man thing." ''If you say so.'' Buying a Romance Chance Calculation Software catalogue had been a weird choice for him. Not that he''d go back on it. It was interesting seeing the results pop up whenever he looked at someone. Some were interesting. Grasshopper was not romantically interested, period. Tankette, however... wow, that lady had wandering eyes. It threw up some weird results sometimes. Hedgehog was... kind of just a picky dude, but that was all. Crackshot had his thing shut off for anyone under eighteen, not because it couldn''t work on them, but because it squicked him out something mighty. Gomorrah was obviously into her maybe-girlfriend, but the Complication Matrix levels there were stupid high. Stray Cat and that Lucy girl? They had the same metrics as some couples he''d met who were happily married for thirty-plus years, which was wild. Cat was one crazy lady, in his humble opinion, and it made him worried about that Lucy girl too because there was no way she was sane if she was into that. None of that mattered at the moment. He was just distracting himself so that he didn''t have to think of what was coming up. He got off his iron horse, then tugged the horse''s rear-view mirror to the side to get a better look at himself. He was in a nice button-up shirt. All the buttons nice and shiny right up to his neck, collar on proper-like. It was a beige and red plaid-like pattern that he enjoyed. His jeans were nice and neat, pleated down the middle because he''d starched and ironed them himself. Bit stiff, but he could live with it. Boots were spit-shined like new. He''d even oiled his spurs. "Right," he muttered. "Now or never." The place was one of the biggest shopping spots in New Montreal. Big enough that even his country-bumpkin self had heard about it in ads and in passing. It was the kind of place that people would take a detour to visit if they had business in the city, just to say that they''d been. It was also where Emoscythe stayed. That might have been part of the mystique, he figured. A woman like that--not just a samurai--staying around was good enough of a reason for anyone to want to visit. He stepped into the place and soon enough he was lost in the crowd. It always unnerved him, how many people there were in the city. Back home the population was in the low thousands. He couldn''t say that he knew everyone, but he knew enough people that everyone he did meet had a friend in common. Everyone was someone''s cousin, neighbour, in-law, or something like that. Out here, in New Montreal? A million people could be on the block he was on and there wasn''t a chance in hell that he''d get to meet even a thousandth of them. He was just some guy in a sea of people, and that unnerved him something fierce. He was dressed a little weird compared to the locals, but not so weird that it stood out. There were two young women giggling next to one of those cardboard stand-ups of... was that that Arm-a-Geddon guy from down south? They had neon hair that waved with their laughter. A group of mercs stomped by further in, six of them circling a totally average looking man. Too average. He looked like Crackshot''s cousin who''d gone into accounting. His cousin never needed an escort like that. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. An elderly man was standing off to the side, doing a weird old dance while Cringecore music played from his walker. Ads blared all over, of course, but there were street vendors shouting over them anyway, because even without Enyries filtering out the more intrusive ads, there was just something about a man calling out for your attention that worked. And then he was in the main bazaar and walking towards a backroom exit. The place had guards. It had electronic surveillance, key-card access on the doors, and turrets hidden in the floor and others in plain sight. None of it tried to stop him. That still felt weird, being someone. As much as he found some of his new samurai... friends a little weird, he did envy some of their confidence. Miss Stray Cat seemed the sort to walk in front of a bus, entirely confident that it would stop for her, and it probably would. Some of the others were more humble with their power and selves, but there was still that undercurrent of... weight to them. None more than the woman he was visiting now. It was a short ride up an elevator, then down another corridor into a lobby space where he was let in without any trouble. The floor was glass, overlooking the bazaar below. He didn''t pay that any mind, not when she was right there. His mouth suddenly felt dry at the sight of her. Emoscythe Mordeath Noir. She stood in the centre of the room like the statue of a goddess ought to stand in the centre of a temple. But she wasn''t a thing of cold marble. No, she was all blacks and black and blacks. Layers of blue-black and purple-black and black-black, slightly different, subtle, all layered over each other in a dress that hinted as much as it shouted. She looked at him for a moment, and then she smiled. A quirk of her purple-painted lips to one side, a flash of perfect teeth. "Hello, Crackshot Cowboy," she said. Her voice was... It was like a cold glass of ice water on one of those days when it got so hot he thought his trailer might melt. "H-howdy, ma''am," he said. "I wasn''t expecting you, of all people," she said. "But it''s a pleasure nonetheless. I see you''ve been taking my advice to heart." "Yes ma''am," he said before he quickly removed his hat. Curse his fool brain, he was forgetting his manners. "Ma''am, I''m here to ask you something that might be inappropriate." She blinked. "Go on?" "I... I wouldn''t normally ask this sort of thing. I''m hardly a brave man, I''m afraid, but I suppose the world ending and all had shaken things loose. Miss Emoscythe Mordeath Noir, would you mind if I asked you out on a date?" She stared for a moment, then laughed, but she covered her mouth. There was mirth in her eyes, but not rejection. "How old are you?" she asked. "Twenty-two," he said. "I''m thirty-two, aren''t I a little old for you?" "I don''t mind that at all," he said. "In fact, I rather like it. Just how I like all the rest of the things I know about you." She tilted her head, exposing just a bit of lace-covered neck. By god, this woman would be the end of him. "You''re bold, aren''t you?" she asked. "I admire your courage, at least." "I reckon it''s not the sort of time for cowardice and hesitance," he said. She laughed, and he felt some of the tension in his shoulders loosening up. "Very well, Mister Crackshot Cowboy. I''ll allow you to take me out on a date." "Really?" he asked. "I mean, yes ma''am. Thank you, ma''am! How''s dinner sound?" "Right now?" "We''ve only got hours to go," he said. There were quite a few hours, of course, but still. He had to move while his bravery lasted. "I suppose I could eat. Dinner?" He nodded. "Dinner with you sounds lovely," he said honestly. The world might be ending but that didn''t mean this wasn''t the best day in his life. "One in seven thousand, eh?" he muttered, a smile sneaking onto his face. *** News: The Contests General Category Winners have been announced! The General Contest has come to a close! And I have had to make some impossibly difficult choices. Still, after much consideration and tallying of votes (why was first place a 4-way tie?!) I''ve come to only one plausible conclusion. We''re getting two first-place winners! The most expensive option, but honestly, these stories deserve it. But before I dive into who won, let me highlight some other stories that did fantastically well! Not to say that I''m not proud of all the participants... Actually, a bit on that before I move on. I''m genuinely amazed and a little humbled by the sheer potential I saw over the course of this contest. So many of my readers, as it turns out, have fantastic amounts of skill. Some of it needs nurturing. I left notes for all of those writers on things they can work on. But what really took me off guard were the number of unique and powerful voices and styles I saw. Some were rough, sure, but it felt like I discovered two dozen really strong writers who just need a bit more practice and time to refine themselves into... competition? Wait, maybe I shouldn''t be encouraging you guys after all... hmm. Anywho~ Let''s highlight some stories that came very close! Tarnished Honor, by the WackyWombat is... genuinely gripping, fast, well-told, and might very well have taken this entire contest if I wasn''t cheating and metagaming as a judge. This story deserves your attention. Wombat has been writing SCS stuff for a while, but this story really highlights how much they''ve grown as an author. It''s just good. The Antithesis Caused My Mid-Life Crisis, by DoomToaster struck a chord with me too. Maybe not as polished, but just brimming with potential. It''s worth giving it a try as well. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. A few others that came close... Undercity Ronin, Most (Un)Manly, and CyroGhost. All super cool and unique takes! But, we''re here for the winner(s), so, without further ado... The General Category Winners for the 2024 Stray Cat Strut Fanfiction Contest are... Libitina, by NiameScrawls, and HAVOC, by Kenny Celican! Woo~ Claps all around! Libitina is... genuinely the best start to an SCS fanfic I''ve yet seen. Masterful tone setting, lots of dystopian vibes, a main character with issues... god, so many issues, so much drama, so much or a broken mess of a person. It''s delicious to watch, written at a high professional standard, and leaves you wanting so much more! HAVOC made me cry. I''m not even kidding. I had to put it down, give Molly some walkies, and then return to it. Kenny is a good writer, one who''s been improving slowly but surely with lots of dedicated practice. Their technical skills are a smidge lower than NiameScrawl''s, which almost cost them the contest, but their emotional skills are... just so good! Any story that can leave you feeling distressed and angry and hopeful is worth the time it took to read, and HAVOC hits all of those notes! So yes! I''ll be posting the two winner''s stories here as new chapters momentarily. Please give them a read, I swear they''ll be worthy of your time! And to everyone else, thank you! You make a silly birb proud! Keep warm; stay cool, -RavensDagger SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner: Havoc, by Kenny Celican Chapter One: Havoc Right at the beginning of the century we won a huge victory against governments impeding our mandate by inserting the concept of government ''death panels'', denying care to terminal patients, into the public consciousness. Employees mistakenly referring to Terminal Care Triage Officers or Offices as ''death panels'' will be penalized, up to and including loss of all company sponsored health care.

No-Sick Medical Savings Plan Management Corporation

*** Grief is a strange thing. Nothing but personal anecdotes for this, but it''s even stranger when you''re not ''normal''. You know, not ''straight'', ''cis'', ''neurotypical''. All that good stuff. Today I''m sitting here grieving one of the two women sitting in front of me talking. If she thought about it, if she still could think about it, she''d probably tell me to stop. Let me cry on her shoulder; Hold me, like I wish I could hold her right now. I mean, I''m holding her hand, and she isn''t pulling away like she might on a bad day. I still remembered the brief, shining window of time when people would come up to us and comment on our public displays of affection, and she''d look them square in the eye while she pulled me in for some good old-fashioned tonsil hockey. But now she can''t even remember those times. Not really. Her augs remind her, and it helps sometimes. But today? I can tell her mirror scared her too much to believe what the augs told her this morning. "Hey, Mom." Our older boy looks uncomfortable as he speaks through the split screen of the tablet his daughter brought with her today. His younger brother takes up the other half of the screen, but I can tell by the look on his face he''s doing something else right now. I can''t really blame him. He handles grief more like me; Hold it back until some weird quiet moment feels safe enough, then let the gritty sludge that remains leak out until the pressure is gone. He''s here though, here for his mom despite all their incessant spats over the years. The love of my life looks at our boy, glances at me, takes in my nod, and smiles at him. "Hello son. How are you doing today?" "I''m¡ I''m good, Mom." He''s breaking down already. He couldn''t make it in person today, and I''m almost glad he couldn''t. I want her last day to be as happy as it can be, and he''s about to lose it. I click my tongue a little, and he looks at me. "Have you taken your allergy meds?" He hasn''t needed those for years, not on a regular basis. "I don''t need them, Dad." I smile. "You look a little puffy. You don''t want Mom to remember you all puffy and sneezing, with your eyes running, do you?" He finally takes the hint. "Nah, nah, you''re right. I''m good for now though." His smile is brittle, but he keeps it up like a trooper. "Just let us know when you need to go. Looks like you got into something pretty bad. Maybe at work?" "Yeah, probably at work. Hey, Mom, did you get the pictures I sent you of Sol?" She pauses, checking her augs. "Oh, yeah, I did! They''re getting so big!" "He, Mom." "He?" "He." She nods, trying to hide her embarrassment at misgendering her own grandson. "How old is he now?" That almost breaks him, but he hangs in there. "He''s fourteen, Mom. Just turned fourteen last month." She tries again. "He¡ looks a lot like you did back when you were his age." I realize she''s slipped, that the augs aren''t catching her. I step in before she gets too lost. "I can see it. In the face. He''s got your nose. Your eyes. He''s definitely got the build you had back then." She tries to recover, tries to pretend like she remembers. "Oh. Oh, yes. You look¡ like¡ your father did at your age." I snort. "Yeah, ''cept he''s still got all his hair." I rub my hand across the top of my head, feeling the stubble where long ago I had a widow''s peak, and the smooth skin around it. My dad used to use it for a combover. I usually just shaved that bit down, leaving a halo of hair around the back of my head at the level of my temples. She told me to do that after the time I used enough product to make it stick out like a unicorn horn. Before anybody uses the word ''simp'', she''s the love of my life, and from the first time she said yes, making her happy was more important to me than anything else. More important than actual important shit. Way more important than some trivial detail like my hairstyle. She wants my hair short, I cut it short, she wants it long, I grow it long. I don''t give a shit about anything but making her happy. Not sure I ever did. I tap my augs to check our bank account. Her living will came into play when it got low enough, because she didn''t want me starving on the street because of her medical bills. She recorded that decision in her augs decades ago, before she needed them to remind her of the date. The month. The year. The name of the man sleeping next to her. "Hey, Dad? I gotta go. Loonie, you gonna come home soon?" My granddaughter sighs, her dark fingers interlacing with my own. Someday in the future she''ll be in my position. I don''t envy her that. She''ll have her brother for backup, though, and I do envy that. She''s here to support me, but mostly because I just don''t have the energy to dispose of the cremains the way my love always told me she wanted. I mean, what my wife wants is illegal as fuck, but neither Loonie nor I give the first shit about that. "I''ll come visit when I''m done helping Granddad." "Okay." He sniffles. "Sorry, Mom. I gotta¡ I gotta go. I love you." "I love you too, son." In that one phrase I hear the thing I''ve always loved most. She sees someone hurting and no matter her own pain and confusion she steps up to help. In that moment she does love him. Maybe a tiny bit of it is her confusing him for me. Maybe another tiny bit is her playing the role of Mom. But most of it? It''s the purest kind of love, looking at another human being and just¡ caring for them. Not because you''re obligated, but because they''re another human being. Our older boy disconnects, and I tap into my wife''s augs. Then I do the same with the machine behind her, letting me hear the beeps we''ve silenced so she won''t be curious and look. Won''t twist her head around and feel the shunts keeping her alive. The ones that''ll stop keeping her alive in another half hour or so when all our carefully hoarded and frugally spent medical funds run out. I''ve got half an hour left before I''m alone. Loonie will stick around long enough to collect the cremains, but she''s only got so much time off work, and if she doesn''t use it when she''s scheduled to, starting a few hours from now, she''ll still lose it. Right now, she''s gaming the system just like I taught her, sitting with a terminal patient in her cafeteria, so she can wheel her corpse away before any of the other customers freak out. At that point it''ll just be me. I technically have enough in my account to survive at least another few years, especially if I frugal it up and move back in with my nephews; we own the property, so all I''ll need to pay for is food and my share of the utilities. I''m not gonna do that, though. We talked about it decades ago. Well, I rambled on until she turned to me and said, ''don''t be lonely''. So, I won''t. There are a few places in the world where for the right price, you can get not just companionship, but companions that come with their own stockpile of drinks and drugs and toys and tricks, and where if you pay a little extra and sign a waiver, they won''t worry about things like ''you''re not healthy enough for that''. They''ll ignore every warning until it''s way, way too late. Seriously, a Plexiglas coffin that puts me to sleep? I couldn''t do that. I could buy enough booze and downers to put myself down, but there''s no guarantee I could keep them down, or take enough. Some kind, misguided soul might call an ambulance. But this way? I''ll have somebody there who knows what I want. Maybe even somebody kind enough to hold me till I flatline. Maybe not, maybe I''ll get somebody who just takes my money, locks the door, and walks away, leaving me to die alone. But that''ll be fine too, so long as they let me go. "Rat? You got anything you wanna say to Mom?" Our younger boy jerks a little as my tone jerks him out of his hyper focus. "Oh! Yeah, sorry. Little distracted." He looks up at his mom, and I see in his eyes that he knows she probably doesn''t know him. "I love you, Mom. Even if I don''t show it right. But I do. Always have, always¡" The screen cuts out, leaving us and our granddaughter disconnected from our son, her uncle. The lights cut out, leaving us in darkness. The machines over my wife''s shoulder cut out, leaving me in silence. It could be a power outage. Those happen, down here where the buildings predate the megastructures above. Not that Philly is a proper ''megacity'', really. It''s got some megascrapers, it''s got an undercity, but between the river, the uneven terrain, the tradition of keeping the city low to the ground, the undercity never quite fell into quite as much disrepair as it did in places like New York. Of course, the parts that most resemble a Megacity are those here in what used to be Center City. One of the support pillars for the megascraper above us is visible through the broad windows set high up on the walls of the cafeteria. When I worked here sixty years ago, this room could never really be dark like it is now. Loonie stands up, a dim silhouette in the darkness. "I''ll go check¡" Our augs receive an alert at the same time. Antithesis Incursion Detected. Proceed to the nearest shelter. The message loops, and I hear scattered screams around the room. The lights come back up, but people are still starting to panic. I look at my wife''s life support gear. It hasn''t come back on. The simple readout that shows her basic vital signs: heart rate, respiration, oxygen levels, shows nothing but a flatline for another ten seconds, then goes into power saving mode. I decide right then and there that I won''t be leaving this room. I push myself to my feet, using my augs to transfer the remainder of my worldly funds and possessions to Loonie. "Loonie?" She looks at me, and I see my quick-witted granddaughter realize what her sudden influx of modest wealth means. "Granddad, no." I shake my head. "You get these people out of here, Loonie. Just do me a favor and prop the outer doors open before you go." "Don''t you mean closed?" I smile. "I know what I said. Now, go." She nods, sadly, but before she goes, she puts her arms around my wife. "Goodbye, Grandmom. I love you." Then it''s my turn. "Goodbye, Granddad. I love you." Then she leaps to stand on the table, her voice ringing out through the cafeteria, cutting through the increasingly panicked chatter. "Everyone! Listen to me! There''s a shelter right nearby! A decent one; not real big, but it''s solid." "Nothing down here is solid enough!" Somebody screams. "This one''s old, built to withstand nukes. It might not be comfortable, but once we get in and shut the doors, it''ll take the Antithesis days to dig us out." "But they will!" "Shut the fuck up!" Somebody else shouts the naysayer down. "She works here, she oughta know all the good hiding spots!" They turn to Loonie, "How do we get there?" Loonie points at some side doors that lead deeper into the hospital. "Head through those doors, take a right, and head straight until you see the stairs down. Then just follow the signs for the fallout shelter." "What are you gonna do?" "I''ll be right behind you all, I''m gonna lock up as I follow, just to buy us some more time to get there and get locked in. Grab all the premade sandwiches and bottled drinks that you can; I know the shelter is solid, but I''m not sure how well it''s stocked." "We can''t afford all that!" Loonie snorts. "Afford? The Antithesis ate it all. Fuck anybody who says otherwise." So proud of her. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. That breaks something loose in the crowd. Suddenly all of them hit the coolers, grab everything they can, and head for the doors she''d pointed out. Loonie herself walks over to the big exterior doors, flips a few levers around, and shoves them open. While she fixes the doors, I push myself up, lay a kiss on my wife''s cooling forehead, and connect to her augs. "Dear heart?" Her response, for once, is free of her usual fear. Maybe it''s because without sight, without actual sound, without the feel of her body failing around her, all she hears is my voice and her own fading thoughts. The voice that replies from deep inside her brain, the voice she thinks to herself in, the voice from my memories of over six decades ago when we met, startles me. "What''s going on?" I sigh, walking toward the doors from the cafeteria into the kitchens. "You''re dying. The power went out, and your life support cut out. You''ll love why." "Hmm?" I pull open the doors, sliding the big fans that keep the kitchen temps at vaguely survivable levels over to prop them open, pointing out into the big multi-story room of the cafeteria. "Antithesis Incursion. By the stats I''m seeing, a big one. Two of the big landing pods are gonna land right on us." "Fuckin'' Murphy." I step into the oppressive heat of the kitchen, crank all the burners up to max, especially the deep fryers. I toss stuff into the fryers and onto the grill, some meat, but mostly carrots, onions, and celery. The old school aromatics. Then I find a whole jar of garlic and dump that in too. You can never use too much garlic. "Yep. Our house totem strikes again." "Will everyone be okay? You should go help." So much the woman I fell in love with. I''ve got three, maybe four minutes left before her brain burns through the little oxygen it has left, and our last conversation will be over. My augs won''t connect direct or override hers from anyplace further than the cafeteria. I don''t think she knows that, but I know she doesn''t care. "I am helping, love. Setting out a stanky buffet for the plants. Slow them down, keep them here while everyone who can run does." "You can''t run?" I throw some other stuff on a cart, preparing something else I might do, but not ready to do it yet. "Nah. Not for decades now. Been disabled since the teens, love." Her next words are quieter. "How long has it been?" "Too long. Not long enough. Just a moment." I leave our augs connected. Finally done shoving the doors open and blocking them that way, Loonie runs up to me. "Can¡" She chokes back tears. "Can I do anything else before I go?" "Pop open Grandmom''s oxygen tank? I want to breathe easy in my last minutes. Any others lying around too. But be quick, I don''t want them following you." She nods, pulls me into an embrace, then scurries about the task I set her. "Who was that?" I smile as I angle the fans to blow the overwhelming scent of cooking oil and food out into the room. If I fill the room, some will leak out into the street. "Loonie. Our granddaughter. Good¡" "Get her out of here!" I smile, looking around for more stuff for my cart, loading it as I find it. "She''s about to leave. All I''d do is slow her down. She''s just helping me set up some more lures before she goes. Then she''ll catch up with everybody else; she''s the one who''s gonna lead them to the shelter." "Oh." Her voice is a little softer. A little more scattered. Maybe a minute or two more. "Tell her we''re proud of her." Loonie makes one last pass by me, one more attempt, but I cut her off before she can speak. "Loonie? I just want you to know, your Grandmom and I are both so, so proud of you. You get those people to the shelter safely, you hear me?" Then her arms are around me, squeezing, crushing me. I think she might even be cracking my ribs, but I don''t give a shit. I put my arms around her and squeeze back. Then she turns, crying, and sprints for the doors. I get it. In her shoes? I wouldn''t be able to leave if I said anything either. I leave my cart by the fans and walk back to my wife''s slumped body. "Kinda stupid of me to ask, but anything else you want me to do? Before you go? Or even after?" I take her hand in mine as I sit down, and she whispers into my head, "I''ll let you know." We sit there like that, the food smell growing stronger, as her last seconds tick down. "Are you cooking?" "Kinda sorta." "Oh. I smelled it, but then it went away." Tears run down my face. Funny. Now, at the very end? I seem to be grieving sort of properly. Or no. Somehow my neurospicy brain has decided that now feels ''safe enough''. Fuck it. Not like anyone will see it. Not like I''d care if they did. "Your sense of smell has gone then." I squeeze her fingers. "Can you feel my hand in yours?" "Ye¡" A long pause grips my heart. "Not anymore." "Fuck." "Little late for that." "Little late for everything except¡ I love you. I always have. Every second of every minute of every day for the last sixty-three years." No response. Just a kind of warm sigh. I settle in, waiting to see an alien in person for the first time in my life. Then a single word wafts out of her augs. "Chosen?" She hasn''t called me by that pet name since back in the nineties. "Yes, Beloved?" One final word comes through, a ghost of a sigh, one I only recognize and understand because I''ve heard her speak it so often in jest, in play, in frustrated rage. This time nothing marks it but final sincerity. "Havoc." I don''t know if she hears my response. I hope she does and leaves this mortal coil with a smile on her soul. I hope she doesn''t feel obligated to respond, or like I had to have the very last word. "As you wish." I never realized she knew I''d thought about something like this. Always thought I''d kept this side hidden well enough. That all the jokes where I''d obscured the truth with laughter had passed her by. I''d always feared she wouldn''t stay if she knew. I set her hand on her lap, stand up, and walk back to the fans. As I walk, I initiate a cross-load of all the data from her augs to mine. Then another script that triggers a cascade of deletions, not just from my augs, but everywhere I''ve visited and lurked over the past few decades. Online, Mesh, Corp sites I spent a lot of time on. Hot, greasy wind blasts me in the face as I approach the kitchen. I step in, turn off all the burners, count to ten, then flip the gas back on, careful not to activate the auto-ignition. I step out to the fans and my cart. One at a time I grab each of the bags on the cart, rip them open, and fling the contents into one fan or the other, blasting their contents out into the big open space of the cafeteria. Flour. Powdered sugar. Even a few big containers of powdered spices. Anything powdered and flammable. It''s hard to breathe when I take my first step back toward our table. I lean on the wall. There''s a fire alarm right there. I smash it, pull it, and stumble back to where my wife''s body sits. Halfway there I stop to lean against a popcorn cart. I notice something, shrug, and screw the feed hose off the propane tank, cranking the feed open with my other hand. I finally drop into my chair and take her hand in mine. The pungent chemical they add to cooking gas to make the methane easier to detect wafts into my nose. With my free hand I scrabble in my vest pocket as I check my augs. I''ve cross-loaded everything she''s recorded over the decades. I''ll never have a chance to look at it, but I''d done it for the same reason I hold her hand; I couldn''t not do it if I tried I check my scripts, or what''s left of them as they''ve gone on their targeted rampage across the electronic landscape. All the telltales come up green. Good thing, I couldn''t follow up if I wanted to. It took me decades to fall prey to the same kind of thing that stole my wife away from me so long ago, but after watching her I''d seen it coming. She grew terrified of the woman who haunted her mirrors. I gradually fixated on people ''spying'' on my online presence. But I''d leaned on my augs far earlier, lost far less of me, managed to beg, borrow, or steal the code for my scripts. Nothing better to do with my time over the past three decades but geek out over the real-life superheroes fighting against the alien invaders and compile an electronic cluster bomb that would erase all electronic traces of my existence. Had to have hobbies to fight mental decay, after all. But by now the scripts I''d set off have hashed, changed, deleted, or otherwise screwed with every trace of my identity I''d left behind, including the scripts themselves. Including my own augs. I''m okay with that. I''ve always been sort of fluid, and where others like me sought out the perfect label to represent their fluidity, I just let everyone call me what they would. My identity is me, not a collection of syllables. So now nobody can track any of what I''m about to do back to me, because ''me'' doesn''t exist. More importantly? Our boys? Sol? Loonie? None of them will get a bill for it. I send a message to the hospital, to building management in the megastructure above us, to what remains of the city government. "I have placed a large-scale improvised explosive device next to Jefferson megascraper support D, and will detonate it shortly. Evacuate or seek shelter immediately." My due diligence done, I focus on the feel of my wife''s right hand in my left, trying to ignore the hard metal in the palm of my right hand. She gave it to me a while back, a sort of random gift, something I thought looked cool. I don''t think she ever thought I''d use it for something like this. Then again, she stayed with me all those years. Stayed when she knew, even though I thought she didn''t. We sit there like that for a while, until I hear scrabbling outside the big outer doors. I watch the first couple aliens enter the cafeteria. Quadrupeds with tripartite jaws. Model Threes. After a handful come in, a smattering of little flying guys swoop over their heads. Model Ones. "Fuckin'' seagulls." The air tastes heavy with grease and faux methane smell. The room spins, and my head flops back. I''m barely able to see the windows from all the powder in the air. The Model Threes see the movement, moving towards us at a cautious saunter. If we ran or charged, they''d be aggressive, but this? We''re just more biomass in a room that reeks of it. I''m from Jersey, not Philly like her. But after sixty years, not to mention me tying the augs that were us together, the line where one of us ends and the other starts is almost meaningless. So, our last words are a m¨¦lange of traditional Philly and Jersey greetings to our interstellar visitors, with our own pedantic loquaciousness tying it all together. "Welcome to Philly. We see you''ve taken it upon yourself to fuck around. You are now cordially invited to find out, then go the fuck home." We press the button on my jet lighter. Light. Sound. Motion. Pain. Darkness, silence, and crushing weight. We have no idea how, but we''re conscious. We think. If this is the afterlife, it''s remarkably boring. No light, no sound, just a vague sense of pressure. But we''re here together, I guess. Could be worse. Then, a single voice, beautiful in its purity and sense of purpose, rings through our head. System Initialized! Congratulations. Through your actions you have proven yourself worthy of becoming one of the Vanguard, a defender of humanity. I am Stryt. I will assist you to uplift humanity so that you may defend your homeworld from the Antithesis threat! Rise, #!#!@$@ #!@!%!@@#@!@), and become a protector of the weak! *** You can find more of Kenny''s works here: Kenny Celican''s Fictions | Royal Road If you enjoyed Havoc, then you should check it out on RR and encourage Kenny to write more! SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner: Libitania, by NiameScrawls Chapter 1 INCURSION DETECTED. PLEASE REMAIN CALM, AND PROCEED TO THE NEAREST SHELTER. Libi jerked back as the bright red letters flashed across her augs, startling her into dropping the fine white chalk she had been using. "Please try not to panic, everyone," she shouted, the noise of her voice failing to mask a loud CRACK as her chalk shattered across the ground. Suppressing a curse that would have deducted her teaching score, Libi bent down to carefully collect the precious shards. Chalk was an expensive and messy alternative to the usual digi-pen every classroom came with, but Libi could afford to be old-fashioned. "Does it look like we''re panicking, Professor?" A cool, elegant voice interrupted her thoughts, courtesy of a tall, bespeckled young man. His black slicked back hair looked a bit like a giant snail had given him a comb over, but apparently that was all the rage amongst the students these days. "No, Curtis," Libi sighed, straightening up again. ''You''re all far too callous to panic.'' Libi managed to cut off the rest of the thought before it escaped her lips, but it hung heavy on her mind as she looked over her class of excitedly whispering students. It was a sight Libi was uncomfortably familiar with; sixty-two students of Dal-Corp''s finest freshmen eagerly chattering over a world of death and destruction that they thought only existed in their augs. They were spread out across the tiered seating of the lecture hall. Each sat behind an enormous black desk that resembled a barricade more than a piece of furniture; a design that made every lecture feel more like a siege than a lesson. The room itself did little to discourage that impression; brutalist concrete walls created monoliths to a distant, uncaring ceiling of black obsidian. The primary splash of colour came from the floor; a bloody red carpet strung atop a black marble floor like circuitry across a motherboard. It was a look that matched how every class felt; a training camp for soldiers of cold logic of which Libi unwillingly commanded. As for the students themselves, collectively they represented some of the wealthiest and most powerful corpo families Nova Halifax had to offer; plus a few token scholarship cases thrown in with the mix. Regardless of their circumstances, they all attended class consistently. Libi wasn''t sure what it was that drew them to her lectures so much, but it certainly wasn''t to learn; at least judging by the way the students eagerly whispered amongst themselves as they scrolled through their augs. Another example of Libi''s failure to teach them anything other than biology. The incursion notice had whipped them up into a gossiping frenzy, with some even making bets - as if a live alien invasion was an exciting game show. Not that Libi was any better. She was amongst the fortunate few, lucky enough to escape the horrors of nightmarish monsters rampaging through the streets. None of them had to watch their family members get torn shreds before them, nor hide under the bodies of the- Libi cut the thought short before it went any further. "Take a five minute break," she sighed. There was no point trying to teach when they were so distracted. "Call your families, check on your friends, scroll your aug feeds. We''ll resume class after we''ve had a chance to decompress." The students immediately exploded into activity as their shackles were released, crowding around one another to gossip and chatter about the extra dimensional invasion. The only exceptions were the few scholarship students who immediately began making desperate phone calls to their families, their voices drowned out by the excited chatter and laughter of those who had no reason to worry for their families'' safety. Libi chose to copy the scholarship students'' actions. Finding a private corner in the hall, she pulled up her contacts and called the only favorited number there. "Mrs. Irvil!" The phone barely had a moment to start paging before it was answered by a voice riddled with anxiety. "Victoria. I believe I asked you not to call me that," replied Libi, her own voice immediately cooling. "Ah- right- I''m sorry, Dr. Libitina," stammered the young woman on the other end. "I sometimes forget-" "How are my children doing?" interrupted Libi. "Are they safe?" "Yes! Adrian expressed some anxiety, and Adrianna asked after you, but I was able to distract them with a book." "Good. Keep them off the aug streams; they''re full of chatter about the antithesis, and I don''t want the children to have anything to do with it," replied Libi curtly. "R-righto! No problem!" "Has my husband called yet?" "Uhhh..." Victoria''s awkward silence was an answer in itself. "Last I spoke to him was last week, I think." "What about my mother?" The hesitation in Victoria''s voice worsened. "I tried calling the house earlier, but Jeeves told me that she was still in her VR Pod." Libi sighed; it was only to be expected. Her mother had probably disabled her emergency alerts; she had claimed it caused too much anxiety. "I-I''m sure they''ll call soon! After all-" "Just- " Libi cut her off. "Let me know if either of them reaches out, otherwise don''t worry about it." "Yes, of course. Ah, would you like to speak to the children? They''re anxious to see you." Libi froze as a moment of panic suddenly jumped her like a black bear pouncing on a salmon. Libi swallowed, hesitating- maybe it wouldn''t be so bad if she didn''t say anything. Hung up, moved on with class; it wasn''t like the kids would be traumatized by missing one phone call. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "Dr. Libitina?" "I- sorry, Victoria. What was the question?" said Libi, a pathetic attempt to buy herself time. "Your children. Could you speak with them? They''re anxious to hear from you." A familiar sensation overcame Libi - a cold, dead weight that settled on her chest, suppressing fear, hate, love and joy, all. Logic, a pure and simple equation that she fell back on when feeling overwhelmed. Sometimes, it was the only thing that kept her going. "Y-yes. Of course. Put them on the line. Please." A moment of silence passed as Victoria moved the call from her augs to a portable cell - an archaic device necessary due to Libi''s insistence that the children not receive implants till puberty. "Mama! Are you there?" Libi swallowed, hoping her augs didn''t pick it up. "Adrianna. Hello. Is Adrian there?" "Yeah. He''s here." "Hi Mama." "Hello. Are you both well?" "Yeah." Adrian''s voice seemed hesitant, unsure; almost nervous. "Are you certain?" Libi cursed herself for how cold her voice sounded. "Yeah," answered Adrianna in his stead. The twins sounded identical to most, but Libi could detect the slight tonal difference between the pair; as well as the deep fear Adrianna was trying to hide. "Good. Mama will be home late tonight. Be good, and listen to Victoria. Tell me if there are any problems." A moment of silence followed. Libi closed her eyes, and tried not to bang her head against the wall. "Okay. Love you." The last sentence was a barely audible whisper. Libi ended the call, the words ''Love you too'' dying on her lips before they could be vocalised. ''Good job Libi. Very comforting for eight year olds to hear. May as well add a few more zeros to their twenty year therapy bill now, why don''t you.'' It was the first thought that day she didn''t cut short. - When she turned back to the class, the students were still buzzing about like bees. "Alright, everyone back to your seats. Augs off, please," she called loudly, her voice easily drowning out the chatter. "We still have an exam on Wednesday, and unfortunately Dal-U Corp does not accept alien invasions as a valid excuse for half of my class failing." "Professor! Do we have to continue?" whined a neon pink haired girl. "This might be my only chance to become a samurai!" "No one in this classroom is becoming a samurai, let me assure you of that, Annie," answered Libi emphatically. "The requirements for ascension are well known, and you''re more likely to die of an aug-short than fight an alien. Now, if there are no further interruptions, can we please continue with the class?" she asked, trying and failing to keep the exasperation out of her voice. Fortunately, it was enough for the students to begrudgingly focus their attention onto her. "I know the history of marine biology is hardly exciting compared to an Incursion, but I may as well make today''s lesson relevant. Can anyone tell me the basic components of an Antithesis cell?" An unsteady silence began to settle over the class as they considered the question. "Annie, you know I can see you looking up the answer, right? An Incursion may be happening, but the school''s anti-cheat hasn''t stopped working." The neon pink girl merely stuck her tongue out at her, switching her augs over to a Princess Magical Bubblegum Apocalypse stream as she did so. Libi sighed and pointed instead at a different student whose hand was hesitantly raised. "Yes, Erika?" "Cell walls, chloroplasts¡ and¡ vacuoles?" she answered, her usual English lilt tilting up in skepticism. "Correct, but you''re still missing a few components. What makes them different from typical plant cells?" "They''re out to kill everyone?" said a young man with long spiky hair, eliciting a half-hearted laugh from the class at the attempted humour. "Well, you''re not wrong there. But does anyone know why?" Another moment of silence followed before Erika tried again. "Trogon¡aptic?" "Trogonanaptyx. From the Greek phrase Tr¨®gontas an¨¢ptyxi, meaning eating growth," Libi said, writing down the spelling of the word as she spoke. "It''s an enzyme, specialized in breaking down foreign organic material into usable DNA. An Antithesis cell can then use this DNA information to divide, creating new cell variations far quicker than normal evolutionary methods." "This then leads to a form of ongoing biological warfare within an Antithesis Hive, with successful variations-" She cut off as a second set of bright red letters blared across her augs, blinding her for a second time that day. ATTENTION! DAL-U CORP FACILITIES ARE UNDER IMMEDIATE LOCKDOWN DUE TO ANTITHESIS BREACH. TAKE SHELTER IN THE NEAREST CLASSROOM AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS It turns out they DO know how to properly react to an Incursion, thought Libi idly as she watched the class turn into a screaming panic. *** You can find more of Niame''s works here: Niame''s Fictions | Royal Road If you enjoyed Libitina, then you should check it out on RR and encourage Niama to write more! She also has an Instagram: Login ? Instagram and a discord: Discord - Group Chat That''s All Fun & Games Chapter Thirty-Six - Diggy Diggy Hole Chapter Thirty-Six - Diggy Diggy Hole "One must understand physics. It makes it so much more interesting when you bend what you know to be absolutely true over and up and back into itself, because even as we break physics, the fundamental truth of it stands. It just becomes far more complex. And I think that''s beautiful!" --Grasshopper''s Guide to Physics for Kids for K-3, 2055 *** The next morning, after a nice breakfast, catching up with the Kittens around the house, and giving Lucy a parting kiss that broke the minute mark, I picked up Rac from her corner of the house, then headed out again. I could have stayed at the site the night before but... why would I ever want to do that? Sleep in a tent that belonged to some sweaty soldier or sleep in my bed, at home, with a warm Lucy? It wasn''t even a choice. Rac seemed to prefer to head back home as well, which was only fair. What was more surprising was discovering her ready to head out the next morning. I half expected her to want to go out and do her own shit. Still, I decided not to comment on it. I knew for a fact that if I was doing something helpful for someone and they made a comment, even a positive one, the chances that I''d want to keep it up were slim. Oh, and I had to gear up a little better. The day before I''d been heading out in more casual gear. It was a little strange to think that I had enough clothes, let alone armour, that I had to choose between sets, but that''s how it was. Lucy had found a place to dry-clean that armour I''d... shed in. I inspected it real close and didn''t find anything suspicious or gross, so that''s what I was wearing again. It was better armour in any case, and it was the set that Emoscythe had helped design. We rode my bike back across the city and through the countryside beyond. When we arrived near the site I noticed two things. First, we weren''t alone in the air. There were several balloons hovering a kilometre or so up in the air. Looking at them made my augs fritz a little on the edges, like they were glitching out. The balloons were set in a circle around the entire site at more or less even intervals. The second thing I noticed was that shit had been moving overnight. I wasn''t sure what criteria Grasshopper had for a space, but they''d found it in what was essentially a roadside stop. One of those little sideroads that lead to what was basically a large parking space in the middle of fuckall nowhere. It was surrounded by some sparse forest that was overtaking what had probably been fields once. When I''d left, the engineers were going to set up a camp. Tents, the mobile base, some trucks and shit. It wasn''t fancy. Now? There was a trench being dug out of the earth by three tractors. A crane was set up to one side, moving loads of crap out of the way. Dump trucks were moving about, and there were six cement mixer trucks parked in a neat row off to one side with their drums spinning away. There were more people, too, moving with speed. I''d seen a few construction sites here or there. I''d never seen one where the workers all jogged around as if their boss was whipping their asses. "Looks busy," Rac said. "Yeah," I said. I noticed a few Samurai cars parked way off to the side where they wouldn''t be in the way. My mech was there, as was Gomorrah''s Fury and Tankette''s... shit, what had she called her tank? Oh, and Grasshopper''s entirely out of place little car too. I pulled my bike in next to her car, then climbed off and adjusted my coat while Rac looked past me. All of the construction work was kicking up a whole load of dust into the air. There was more organisation to it than I''d realized, though. The moment we were closer, my augs pinged me, letting me know that there was a site-wide alternate-reality system in place over this area and asking me if I wanted to join into it. I accepted since Myalis wasn''t kicking up a fuss. That lit up areas in different colours, threw up warnings into the air, and painted a dozen lines and dots across my vision. No wonder people were walking past each other without colliding. Someone, or something, was orchestrating all of the work, and it was doing it at the kind of pace that was probably well-past sustainable. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. We navigated through the area, apparently already having clearance to pass. The AR system directed me and Rac over to the mobile base which had one side unfolded and covered in tarps to create a bigger pavilion. I found the other Samurai within, as well as Major Tinwhistle and what had to be a half-dozen lower-ranked officers. "Stray Cat!" Grasshopper said. She was dressed in a cute, if modest, summer dress. It was railgun patterned, with the streaking lights coming out of the barrels drawing lines across her dress. She still had all the arms though, and a rifle slung over her back that looked like it could take out a tank. "Hey," I said before stepping aside to let some hard-hat wearing guy past. "Damn, this place is busy." "It is! At this rate the location will be ready for the installation by nightfall." "The installation?" I asked. "She means the big gun," Gomorrah said as she stepped over. "We''ve been going over all of the details for it. It''s good that you''re here, we''re going to need some of your catalogues to help." "None of my catalogues are that expensive," I said. "Yes, but if we don''t use them, then it won''t count as though you helped. Well, it won''t count as much. You did organise some of this," Gomorrah said. Right, we were trying to game the system a little. The system run by the AIs in our heads who definitely knew what we were thinking. "Well, if you''ve cleared it out with our passengers." I gestured to my head. "Then I guess it''s fine. What are we going for here?" "Oh! Let me show you!" Grasshopper said. She reached down and took my hand, then started to pull me towards the door only to stop on seeing Rac. "Raccoon! Oh, a pleasure to see you again. How are you feeling today?" I suffered through some pleasantries, not quite daring to pull my hand free from Grasshopper''s grip because that might have been just a little too rude. She chatted with Rac, then remembered that she was leading me somewhere. So back outside we went, this time straight towards the big hole that was being dug out. It was long and pretty narrow, maybe thirty-ish metres wide, a hundred long or so? The hole wasn''t super deep yet, but it looked like it was being dug out. "Once this is done it''ll have room for a cannon half a kilometre long buried twenty metres into the ground and anchored into the bedrock. The water-table here is quite low, and the ground is mostly solid stone. It''s going to make digging deeper a bit tricky, but we have lots of high explosives and plenty of manpower!" "Uh, wait, we''re digging that big of a hole for the base of the cannon?" I asked. Grasshopper turned and blinked at me. "No, it''s for the entire cannon." "So how long is it?" I asked. "One kilometre long," she said. "And we need a kilometre-long base for that?" She stared, then something lit up in her eyes. "Oh! No no, we''re not pointing this upwards, Catherine. This will be level with the ground. Well, level with gravity, actually." "I am real confused," I said. "Isn''t the enemy, you know..." I gestured vaguely upwards. "In space?" "Of course! But shooting something through our atmosphere would be quite silly. The drag, the gravity." She shook her head, then gestured to my hip. "That gave me a brilliant idea." I looked down to where Void Terminus was hanging by my side. I''d gotten pretty used to the sword''s weight by now. "My sword?" "Your sword-shaped portal into space," she corrected gently. "Why shoot through atmosphere when you can fire a quarter-ton sabot through a kilometre-long magnetic rail right into a portal whose exit is already in orbit? In orbit and on its way to Phobos, even! Though at the speed that the exit-portal, or rather the machine holding it, is moving, the difference in range is rather negligible." "Oh," I said. I eyed the growing hole again. "Oh." Yeah, no wonder Grasshopper wanted this to be kept on the down-low. People would shit themselves for this kind of tech, or this kind of weapon. And we were going to use it to punch bullets at space aliens... actually, that was probably a great use for this kind of thing. *** Chapter Thirty-Seven - Honest Samurai Reviews Chapter Thirty-Seven - Honest Samurai Reviews "Look, I don''t care how woke your review is, the audience won''t care what you have to say if you can''t even beat the first fucking level!" -GamersPortal Comment, 2029 *** I kind of expected things to move faster than they were, but it was clear a few hours in that I had set my expectations at one level and reality was conspiring to be at another. Which was fine, I supposed. Basically, while Grasshopper expected the big gun to be ready by nightfall, Major Tinwhistle was a bit more conservative. "By tonight?" she asked when she finally had a spare minute where she wasn''t screaming at people not to fuck up. "I... suppose it''s possible, but only if by tonight you mean before the sun rises. Even then, that means my guys will be working through the night." "Would letting them get some rest be better?" I asked. "Do you work at your best without sleep?" she asked right back. That was a fair point. I wasn''t the best when I was cranky. Grasshopper hummed. "That''s unfortunate, but it''s not altogether unexpected. To be quite honest we are still a ways ahead of where I expected to be, so I can hardly complain. You''ve been doing good work. All of your people have." Major Tinwhistle nodded, but by the set of her shoulders I could tell she was proud to hear that. "Just make sure you let the general know. I don''t want to die a Major. This kind of project is either the kind of thing that''ll be so black-listed and classified that it won''t help me get promoted at all, or it''ll be the kind of thing that''s so big they won''t have a choice but to pin a medal on my chest." I laughed. "You have things figured out," I said. "But yeah, give your guys a break, I think we''ll be fine finishing the big gun tomorrow. Right?" Grasshopper nodded. "We will. We can likely start purchasing some things now. I intend to buy some construction drones in any case. They''ll be able to work through the night." "Oh?" Tinwhistle asked. "I wouldn''t say no to Samurai-tech help." "Hmm, mine are all back home," I said. "But I don''t think it''s suitable for this kind of thing." "It''s fine," Grasshopper said. "I will be purchasing large amounts of raw materials. Mister Hedgehog and Miss Princess said that their catalogues couldn''t truly help with the gun itself, but they''re willing to share the cost for the materials required to build the basing structure." "What did you buy?" I asked. Grasshopper tapped her chin. "I''m buying the main gun. I think I have the largest pool of free points to spend on this kind of project. Miss Gomorrah is purchasing a number of shells for the gun as well as the fire-control computer. Mister Crackshot Cowboy bought the targeting system and its hardware already. He had a fantastic catalogue for that." "Huh, everyone''s pitching in," I said. "Yes! Tankette will be buying the loader, since that meshes well with her catalogues. Hmm, would you mind buying the entry portal and some of the ammunition? You have a catalogue for that, right?" "Yeah," I said. "Exotic Single Use Explosives. Bought a--technically not a--nuke with it once, I''m sure Myalis would love to help us throw different things at the wall to see what sticks. What about Gros Baton? The new kid?" "Oh, he''s quite a lovely young man," Grasshopper said. I nodded, then realized that I had no idea where he was. For that matter, I didn''t know where Rac had run off to either. Suspicious. "He''s taking care of site security, which is also quite important." "Fair enough. Is he the one that put up those balloons? They made my augs fritz whenever I looked at them too long." "That''s him, as well as Hedgehog. Gros Baton had a catalogue for traps which happened to have some barrage balloons available. Hedgehog has a pretty intense suite of anti-spyware programs, so combining the two lead to those. They should mask our presence a little, and make it harder for low-flying spy drones to pass by." "We''re not going to be keeping this a secret for very long, will we?" I asked. Grasshopper wiggled her hand in a so-so gesture. "Major Tinwhistle''s people have been very good about not going online, but eventually their lack of presence will be noticed. There were probably a lot of eyes on the area already, what with the number of new samurai here. But new samurai tend to get a lot of attention from... smaller organisations." If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "What''s that mean?" I asked. I wasn''t sure if I should be offended or not. "It means that organisations like the bigger corps will pay attention to smaller samurai in order to see if they''re recruitable or if they''d be willing to work with them. Bigger samurai have corporate eyes on them because they''re a constant and pervasive threat to those corporations. It''s a little different." "Are you one of those bigger samurai?" I asked. "I''ve been around for a few years, but I never truly focused all of my resources on growing stronger," she said with a smile that was just a little sad. "I''d much rather pay for educational TV shows, or spend my points on things that''ll help humanity in the long run rather than neat weapons. I''m regretting that just a little now, when that spending might have helped us all get through this situation a little easier." "Nah, I think you did alright," I said. Grasshopper didn''t strike me as a fighter. Not that I doubted her ability to kick ass and take names. She just wasn''t the sort of person that I''d picture on the front lines. I supposed that didn''t make her any less of a samurai, though. "Well, it means that I''ve been a small-fry in the samurai world for a long time. The only reason a larger corporation would care about me is the friends I''ve made along the way. A few of those have gone on to have incredible careers!" I nodded along. "You should go see your friends too. Leave the logistics to the Major and I. You''re more of an... in-person leader, I think." "I''m not a leader at all," I said. "I just keep getting stuck having to boss people around. Doesn''t mean I like it. But yeah, sure. I''m worried Rac might be getting into some sort of trouble. I''ll be upset if someone drives her over with one of those tractors." Grasshopper giggled, the laugh making her look ten years younger and kind of ruining her more serious moment. "That would be awful. Go check on her, and on the others. Believe it or not, but all of them, from Gomorrah to Tankette, value your opinion.... Well, maybe not Hedgehog, I have the impression you struck him the wrong way." "Ah, yeah, that might be my fault, I was a little too honest." "Honesty can be tricky sometimes," she agreed easily. I waved goodbye to the Major who barely acknowledged me. She was in the middle of what looked like three simultaneous calls while two engineer-looking sorts were badgering her with questions, so I didn''t take umbrage at being ignored and just slipped out of the command tent. The place was still hustling, even more than when I''d arrived. There was now a mountain of loose dirt being piled up by the roadside, and more tractors had arrived and were shoving it out into a long wall of packed dirt and stone. The hole where the gun would be had gained another twenty metres or so in the last half hour and it looked like they had dropped another metre. It seemed like they were digging it out as a sort of ramp? I wasn''t sure and didn''t have the background to make anything approaching an intelligent guess, so I didn''t question it. I did find the others relatively easily. Tankette had brought her tank forwards next to a row of tents where they were serving food. She was helping, which I imagined continued to make her pretty popular with everyone here. Her smile suggested she was enjoying it. Princess and Knight were sitting at one table in that tent, looking a little awkward as they spoke to each other. No idea where Hedgehog was. And Rac... It took me a moment to find her. She was out by the edge of the hole that was being dug. Just far enough from it that I wasn''t instinctually worried she''d trip into it and actually get squished. Next to her, Gros Baton was saying something with a lot of gestures, and from the way their shoulders shook, they both laughed at whatever that was. Rac shoved him, and I caught his stupid grin from all the way out here. Well well, it seemed like I really was the best match-maker that ever was. Of course, if the little shit hurt her, no amount of being a samurai or a minor would save him. *** Chapter Thirty-Eight - Eggs Burny Side Up Chapter Thirty-Eight - Eggs Burny Side Up "With growing populations comes a growing need for housing. This need is answered in one of two ways. Mega projects, or Rapid-Fab Housing. Mega projects offer the most bang for a developer''s buck. Creating enclosed super structures where a corporation can control everything from police forces, to food sales, to climate control for its residents, ensuring a constant flow of revenue over the life of the structure. Rapid Fab, surprisingly, costs significantly more as land around a mega city tends to go for a premium. The houses themselves can be built to code in under a week, or built without respecting code--for a small fine--in under a day, ensuring housing demands are met for thousands of middle-class citizens all at once." --Except from Housing in the 21st Century, 2039 *** I was up and at''em early the next morning. Before noon, even. The group had set up a small chat about the Big Gun project, one handled by our respective AIs. I think it was safe to say that it was about as safe as a chatroom could be, even considering the number of people in it. I poked at the chatroom while Lucy made breakfast. This morning was a ''full English'' which meant that I got to sit at the kitchen island, hair still damp from a warm shower, and watch as an apron (and unfortunately more clothes) clad Lucy went about handling three pans and two disasters at the same time. "Holy shit, why do eggs cook so fast!" she grumbled as she moved a pan full of eggs over to a plate and tipped it over. Eggs slid off the non-stick surface and mostly landed on the plate. Half of them looked uncooked and runny. The other half were brown-turning-black on the edges. I smiled into a mug of warm coffee as Lucy ran the other way, stirred a pot filled with beans--from the resistance, I suspected some were now permanently welded to the bottom, then she poked at some sausages in the other pan. They spat and hissed, but actually looked pretty good. "You''ll get a hang of it." "I might hang someone, alright," Lucy muttered. "The site made this look easy! This is bullshit." "Wasn''t this like, the standard breakfast for a lot of places in the world?" I asked. "Eggs, sausage, toast, beans." "Fuck! The toast!" Luy ran over to the far end of the counter, almost tripped--which had me sitting bolt upright in case I needed to move--then made it to the bread... thing. The box with the foldy top that bread goes in, for some reason. She popped it open, revealing two end-bits of bread and nothing else. "Fuck!" "It''s okay, we don''t need toast," I said. "But I want toast," Lucy whined. Actually whined. I hadn''t heard her make such a pitiful noise in a while. The last time had definitely involved rope and had been a lot of fun. "Myalis can--" "Don''t buy toast. I''m making breakfast!" Lucy said. "What about bread?" I asked. She considered it. "Okay, but get it pre-sliced, I don''t have time for that." Shrugging, I had a small discussion with Myalis about alien bread while Lucy continued to putter about the kitchen like a 1950s housewife with the vocabulary of a 1850s sailor. I was just happy that she was enjoying her new cooking hobby so much. Plus it was food. I never said no to food. The group chat caught my attention again as it moved. A message from Gomorrah asking if Tankette needed help at the mess tent, then Princess apologising that she couldn''t help on account of currently learning how to use a bulldozer? There was a sub-channel, of course, for memes. Grasshopper was surprisingly active on there. I scrolled up and through about a hundred-odd photos of cats, dogs, strange reptiles, bears, birds, a few funny-looking fish. Most of them were ''cool animal fact'' memes that probably belonged on some soccer mom''s media feed, but some were just cute pictures. Gros Baton was posting obscure French-Canadian memes that--even translated--made not one lick of sense. Kinda weird to see someone who lived in the same general area as the rest of us have such a wildly different meme culture. Gomorrah had posted some more nerdy science-facts memes, and then Crackshot and Princess got into a bit of a meme war. He was surprisingly adept at it, but Princess and Knight were tag-teaming him into meme... submission? Crackshot had set up his own sub-channel for dating advice. None of it was good at a glance, mostly because the people helping him there were Princess and Knight and Gomorrah. Gomorrah had a girlfriend, sure, but that wasn''t thanks to her suave and wit, that was mostly because Franny had the stubbornness of a junkie who needed their next fix. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I went back to the main channel and scrolled way back up to the start. Hedgehog had been pretty vocal early on, and then through the night. Mostly updates, logistics reports, and a few quick conversations with anyone awake about some detail or another. At some point he''d gone to sleep and the chat took a distinctly less professional tone. I kinda liked the irreverence better, but it did make it a whole lot trickier to find anything important in all of the noise. One of the AI, whose name I wasn''t familiar with--Tankette''s, maybe?-- kept a running update on the progress according to Major Tinwhistle, including an ETA counter which ticked up and down with how long the engineers thought it would take. The ETA ticker updated every half hour in the chat, but it didn''t always change by half an hour. There was definitely a downwards trend to the amount of time left until things were done, but there were skips and jumps and at some point around four AM the timer changed by two hours. The chat got lively around then, Knight asking what made that noise. Turns out an automated loader had glitched out, the brakes failed and it rammed into a bulldozer at the stunning speed of seven kilometres an hour. But with the kind of mass they were dealing with, that still made a lot of noise and fucked up two vehicles that needed untangling. Some poor fucks had to figure all of that out hours before the sun came up. It seemed like a genuine accident, not malicious intent, and the subsequent ETA updates showed that things got back into line quickly enough. "Looks like I''m gonna need to be there in an hour or so," I said. "At the gun site?" Lucy asked without turning around. She was trying to flip an egg over with a spatula. "Yeah. Seems like shit''s actually getting done. At this rate we might be able to fire the thing today. Kinda wild, to be honest." "That is impressively fast," Lucy said. "But I guess it''s not that surprising. We''ve both seen megabuildings go up." I nodded. Usually a new megabuilding took like, one or two years to be built? More or less. That sounded like a long time until you stood on the edge of the giant gap where the building would be one day, and a year later there was fifty floors of impossibly thick building in place. The rate those things went up at was kinda nuts. I always liked seeing the timelapses. "The wall around the city went up fast too," I said. "Simpler than a building, I guess," Lucy said. "Weren''t the slabs for it pre-made? I remember hearing something like that." "I guess?" I said. I didn''t know for sure, and I honestly hadn''t paid that much attention. Lucy put something on a plate, then picked up a piece of toast, buttered it, and placed it down. She spun, a big, ridiculously proud smile on full display. "Speaking of pre-made, or rather, absolutely not pre-made, breakfast is ready!" She set the plate down, and I caught a strong whiff of it. Freshly cooked eggs, slightly burned beans, buttered toast. My mouth watered. "Did I tell you that I love you today?" I asked. "Only twice so far," Lucy said. "I could stand to hear it more." I looked up, meeting her eyes. "I love you." Lucy smiled, the image of self-satisfied smugness. "Damn right," she said. "Not gonna say it back?" I asked as I picked up a fork and started to dig in. "Bitch, I made you breakfast, ain''t no ''I love you'' stronger than that." I laughed between bites, then savoured the meal while Lucy put the rest into some bowls and plates and set them on the counter. A few kittens had been spying on the kitchen for a while now, and they came over to grab what they could, like wild animals lurking around the back exit of a fast food joint. Lucy eventually cornered Bargain and Nose and traded food for elbow grease, both of them agreeing--under penalty of slow, painful death if they went back on their word--to do the dishes in exchange for food. It was a nice morning to what I suspected was going to be a nice day. Now I just had to see if Rac wanted to come along and then head out. If all went well, we''d be averting the end of the world by supper time. *** Chapter Thirty-Nine - I Want to Lick Your Eyeball Chapter Thirty-Nine - I Want to Lick Your Eyeball "Do not, under any circumstance, lick someone''s eyeball. We do not endorse any eyeball-licking memes." --PSA from the Ophthalmologists Association of USTwo, 2041 *** I found Rac all geared up and waiting for me by the entrance. She was in her skin-tight armoured suit, but with a loose t-shirt and shorts atop it, as well as a beaten up old denim jacket. "I''m digging the mixed material look," I said. "The what?" she asked. "You know, fancy high tech undersuit, low tech grunge over it?" I asked. Rac gave me a look, as if she was questioning my sanity which... alright, fair. Rac was one of those few who grew up in a situation shittier than my own, she deserved a break. "Do you mind if I come with you again? Or would you rather I stay here to work?" "You mean with the printer?" I asked. She nodded. "I loaded it this morning, and brought some prosthetics down to the clinic already. Miss See-Three took those I made this morning and the batch from last night too." "You got two batches off since last night?" I asked. I was moderately impressed. "When did you even start?" "This morning?" she said. "It''s almost noon." Oh, right. Some people woke up early. "You''re a morning person, then?" "No," she said. "I don''t need much sleep." We both stepped into the elevator while I chewed on that. "You know, you''ll never grow big and tall if you don''t get enough sleep, right?" "Is that why you''re tall? You sleep a lot?" I poked her in the shoulder. "Rude. But probably not entirely inaccurate, to be honest. I''m an expert at napping." The elevator stopped at the parking garage, and we stepped out and towards my bike which was parked nearby. We got on, took off, and soon were zipping across New Montreal heading north again. I was totally ready to bee-line straight to the Big Gun site when I got spooked by Myalis talking in my head. There are several monitoring systems observing you. "Oh, shit," I said. We were just out of the city limits, past the new walls. "Should I start evasive manoeuvres?" No. There have always been a number of systems that have observed your flight. Most of these related to traffic control, or part of the New Montreal defensive grid--tracking system for the close-in weapons systems mounted on the walls. "We''re being aimed at?" I asked. You always have. The tracking systems I''ve noticed now are new, and specifically tuned to notice your bike. I gave my bike a bit more gas to move along faster. "If anything opens up on us, I want you to buy some decoy grenades, please." Understood. What should have been a nice, calming flight out of the city was a little more white-knuckled than I was used to, but nothing happened. No gunshots, no missiles ramming up my tailpipe, no surprise explosions. "Can you trace who put those trackers out there?" I asked. Certainly. I have already, though I''m afraid the trail goes cold rather rapidly. The devices were delivered to a few rooftops via hovercars. The cars are registered by--or have been recently used by--several freelance mercenaries. The devices are all commercial-use trackers with mostly default programming. There are a few avenues I can dig into some more, but most trails have been obscured from the start. "Damn," I muttered. "Is everything okay?" Rac asked from behind me. "Yeah, it''s fine," I called back. "Someone playing games is all." Might I suggest taking a slight detour. You might not want to lead anyone investigating you right to the Big Gun project site. Shit, that was a fine idea. I turned, driving instead towards Saint JEROME. It didn''t take too long for us to get there, and it took less time once there for me to get a ride-along with a few engineers picking up some equipment from a drop-off in the city. The news that I''d been tracked went over surprisingly well in the shared chat, and I found myself somewhat reassured when Grasshopper told me not to worry while I sat in the back of a cargo truck and rode out to the site, my bike strapped into the trailer so that I''d at least have a way home later. When Rac and I arrived, a solid half hour later than I''d expected to, it was to find Princess and Knight waiting for us by the unloading area the engineers had set up. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "Stray Cat!" Princess said. She was grinning ear-to-ear as I hopped out of the truck. "Good afternoon." "Hey," I said. "How are you doing?" I scanned past Princess and Knight to the grounds. I was used to seeing things from above as I flew in, which was a good way of seeing how things were progressing, but even from ground-level I could tell that shit was getting done. The hole for the gun was now a very long trench and the mounds of dirt dug up to make that trench were now like several small mountains as well as a sort of natural wall of dirt along the perimeter of the site. Princess walked right up to me and smiled even as she looked up into my eyes. "It''s nice to see you again. And I''m doing alright," she said. Yup, she was still creepy. "Cool cool," I said. "So, any news since I was last here? I mean, stuff that didn''t make it onto the group chat?" "Oh, uh, not too much? Did you see, I got to ride one of the tractors!" "It was terrifying," Knight said. "Were you with her?" I asked. "I was, yeah," Princess'' far more down-to-earth sister said. "Princess doesn''t have a licence yet." "Ah, right." I wasn''t about to mention that I didn''t have one either. Princess clapped her hands. "Oh, right! We came to meet you because Grasshopper wants to talk. It''s important." "Oh, right, I''m supposed to buy some parts for the gun, right?" "That too!" she said. "But no, it''s mostly because of interference." I felt my brows knitting together. "Interference?" I repeated. "Is some political fuckwit sticking their dick in our project or something? Because I have solutions for that kind of thing." Princess giggled and shook her head. "Nope. It''s from other samurai." I blinked at that. "Wait, what?" "You might want Grasshopper to explain it," she said. "She''ll do a better job of it than I can." "Basically," Knight said. "We''re not the only ones trying to stop the end of the world. We''re not the first either, and some others have called dibs on blowing up the moon." I shook my head. Unbelievable. Princess and Knight escorted me across the site to where a few temporary buildings had gone up, replacing the tents serving as bunks. The mobile base was still parked there, and it looked like it was still in use, but there was also an honest-to-god bunker not too far from it. It looked like the engineers had more cement or whatever than they knew what to do with, so they started setting up a full on base right here. Actually, that... kind of made sense. The Big Gun was pretty damned permanently emplaced. From what I understood, a kilometre-long railgun was actually very delicate, and also huge. Huge and delicate didn''t go together very well most of the time, so moving this thing was going to be impossible. Still, it was kind of wild that it deserved the whole bunker and base treatment. Grasshopper met me outside of the mobile base with a big smile and her arms spread out for a hug. I gave in, walking into her hug with a put-upon sigh. I wouldn''t ever let her or anyone else know, but I did secretly enjoy Grasshopper''s hugs. The only problem was that I had an image to keep up, and being seen getting hugged and fussed over by Grasshopper wasn''t great for that. "Hello, Stray Cat," she said. "Hey," I replied. "So, we''re getting messed with by some samurai?" She nodded. "Come on in, I''ll tell you all about it." "Alright. Who is it, anyway?" "Who are they, rather," she corrected softly. "It''s not one samurai, or even one organisation. At the moment there are three groups, including us, who have plans to take out Phobos within the next forty-eight hours. There are others who have their own plans in place, but they won''t be ready for a little longer." "So, it''s us, two others, then a gaggle of other samurai who''ll be tossing shit at the wall at the last minute?" "I wouldn''t use those terms, exactly, but you''re essentially correct," she said. There was a globe hovering over the planning table, with three bright red dots on it. One of them was in eastern Canada, where we were. The other in... central Europe? And the last somewhere in Asia. "Let me show you what we''re up against!" *** Chapter Forty - Race Me to the Moon Chapter Forty - Race Me to the Moon "''We need a publicity stunt. Something big for our people to rally around. Something like we had in the golden age of America.'' ''What about going to the moon again?'' ''What? No you idiot, are you mental, that''s too expensive. I was thinking... let''s give everyone a car?''" --USTWO GOP2 Discussion, 2038 *** "Wait, so let me get this straight," I said as I gestured to the globe. "Some fucks from around the world found out about our Big Gun project and they''re not happy about it? "That sums it up, yes," Grasshopper said. "But for two small details." She raised a hand, two fingers splayed in a peace sign. "Go on," I said. "First, I don''t think that we can really ascribe negative emotions to either group. We haven''t spoken to them directly yet, so it''s not fair to assume that they''re angry or even unhappy with us. Second, they might not be adversaries to begin with, and the way you''re framing things could lead to bigger problems down the line." I worked my jaw, wanting to disagree on principle, but... Grasshopper was probably onto something. Two other samurai orgs were working to stop the end of the world. If anything I ought to be happy about it because just a couple of days ago I was pissed that no one was taking action. "I guess we don''t hold a monopoly on saving the world," I said. "We share the same planet," Grasshopper said. "It''s only fair that we all do our best to save it too. Especially when saving it only means using great amounts of violence on a deserving target." I nodded slowly. Something told me that Grasshopper was a card-carrying member of the ''blow up pipelines'' school of ecological preservation. "So, can we chat with them, or are we in an unofficial race to see who can blow up Phobos first?" "I''d much rather we talk first," Grasshopper said. "Which is why I''ve set up a meeting with a representative of both groups. I was hoping you wouldn''t mind representing us? I need to help Major Tinwhistle with some final notes on the Big Gun''s construction, and the others are all quite new for samurai." "So am I," I defended. "What about Gomorrah?" "She didn''t want to." What if I didn''t want to? I grumbled a bit, but... yeah, it was this or try to find something to do so that I wasn''t just standing around with my thumb up my ass. "Fine," I said. "Just two samurai, right?" "Yep! One from the German Nachtw?chternetzwerk group, the other from the Keiretsu association of east Asia." "... The what?" "Do you want me to write the names down for you? It might make it easier to pronounce them," she said. I shook my head, but did look at the text she sent me a moment later. There were little spaces telling me which syllables to pronounce in the mismash of letters that was supposed to be a name. "Anything I should know about these two?" "The Nachtw?chternetzwerk group is, as the name suggests, more of a network than a corporate group like the Family. It''s founded in Germany, with members in Austria and Switzerland. The group only allows samurai as members, though there are some who have family members and close friends as support staff. It''s more an interconnected network of friends who support each other than anything else." "Weird," I said. Grasshopper giggled. "Catherine, it''s exactly like what we have here." "Oh," I said. "And the other?" I asked to slip past that awkward fumble. "The Keiretsu association is far larger in terms of scope, though it technically has fewer samurai members. They call their members Ronin instead of Samurai, which is quite interesting if you''re at all aware of the etymological roots of the title samurai. In any case, each samurai member there is the head of a corporation." "Wait, the... Japanese samurai are all corpos?" "Oh no. Not in the way you''re thinking. Some of those corporations are quite small. Little more than a family business, really. It''s just that the Keiretsu association keeps them interlinked. If you had your prosthetics clinic there, you''d find other samurai lending you support for various things for prices far below market rates. Also, it''s not just Japan. Both Koreas, Taiwan, Mongolia, a few island nations." I started to rub at my temples. My education in geography was not enough for this conversation. "Okay, fine. Do we need to worry about any other groups?" You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. "No. There''s two groups in Africa that are preparing something, but it seems more like a contingency to catch pieces of Phobos before they hit Earth. Another group in India is preparing something as well but it''s also preventative. A lot of smaller groups with only a few members like our own are setting up for things, but the Nachtw?chternetzwerk network... oh, a tautology... anyway, they''ve been discouraging people from trying anything and instead encouraging them to focus on the global incursion." Grasshopper clapped her hands. "Enough talk! Time to get you sitting down in front of a camera." "Wait, we''re calling them now?" "Of course. Do you have any idea what time it is in Germany and Japan right now?" "I haven''t the faintest clue," I said. "Nor do I, but I imagine that if we wait too much longer, our overseas friends will be quite tired." Grasshopper tugged me along until I was unceremoniously placed in front of a monitor bank. This was right in the middle of the command area, with engineers wandering in and out behind me and officers working at their own stations. "There''s a privacy screen," she said as she activated a small boxy device. There was a hum from the machine, then the noise in the rest of the room was dropped to a low murmur. "There, that ought to keep you concentrated. That screen is you, and the other two are our friends, and this here is the webcam." Grasshopper tapped a few keys and a trio of screens lit up. I was on the left, as was half of Grasshopper as she leaned in to type a few last things. The middle and rightmost screens were blank, but they had the name of the organisations we were talking with below. She patted my shoulders. "Do us proud!" I really didn''t like how quickly I was being shoved into something like a ''face'' position. Being the ''tells people to get their heads out of their asses'' person? I could live with that. Being the face of this operation? That I wasn''t so sure about. But I didn''t get much of a choice as the middlemost screen flickered on and I came face-to-face with... a mad scientist. The man looked like he was in his mid forties or so. Black hair that was both balding at the front and turning white on the edges. But what he did have was long and unruly. My guy needed a haircut, but judging by the lack of sanity in his eyes, that was a distant concern. "Ah, you''re here," he said in the thickest German accent I''d ever heard. "Good, good. Yes, my name is Doctor Kaleb Weber, samurai designation Radikal. I''m a proud member of the Nachtw?chternetzwerk and the Sch¨¹tzenfest Samurai Militia. A pleasure." He smiled, then looked off camera and... grabbed a hot dog? Like, a normal-ass hotdog, with ketchup and mustard. Some of the condiments soon found themselves on his lab coat. "Sorry. I skipped my last meal, we''re very busy." "Uh, hi," I said. I didn''t have time to introduce myself when the other screen came on. There was another man, this one looking like he had just walked out of a period piece. Another middle-aged guy, but he was at least well-trimmed and professional. Actually, his weird outfit kinda had a bit of a corpo look to it. A sort of blend between a... whatever the male version of a kimono was and a business suit. "Greetings," he said. His words were added at the bottom of his screen as subtitles, even though his English had better enunciation than mine. "I''m Susan, of Amaterasu corp, member of the Keiretsu. Doctor Radikal, a pleasure to meet you again. Miss Stray Cat, hello." "Hello," I said with a quick wave. "I''m Stray Cat, of... the New Montreal Big Gun Project." Oh fuck, I was pulling titles out of my ass now, but it only felt appropriate to not just say something like ''Hi, I''m Stray Cat and I was dumped in front of you because we have no idea what we''re doing here.'' "Nice to meet you," Doctor... Radikal said. I wouldn''t have known how to spell that without the subtitles. "So, it is our understanding that both the Keiretsu and the, ah, New Montreal Big Gun Project are planning to take care of our extraterrestrial visitors? We also have something up our sleeves." He raised a hand and showed the inside of the sleeves of his lab coat, which... had nothing in them. Yeah, this was not starting off... normally. *** Chapter Forty-One - Operation Moon Boom Chapter Forty-One - Operation Moon Boom "So, from today onwards, the European Union will no longer be called the European Union. The word Union has been tainted by the leftists and those who would steal from the deserving and give to the worker. From now on, the EU will be the European Corporation, a corporation of national entities working to improve the lives of the deserving!" --EC Political Speech, 2041 *** "Yeah," I said to fill the immediately awkward silence. Susan--and it was kind of weird that there was a middle-aged dude called Susan--shifted slightly. I had the impression that he was sitting on his knees, which... alright. He was in a very fancy office, but the background also looked kind of ancient? Wooden walls and those rice-paper screens that Asian supercorps liked to decorate with. Doctor Radikal, meanwhile, looked like he was stuffed in a lab that was about fifty square metres too small for all the junk he was trying to stuff into it. I couldn''t name a tenth of the equipment behind him, but it all looked like the sort of shit you''d find in a lab. "So, uh, before we waste each other''s time," I began. "Has the Keiretsu and the... Nacht....watcher...networks...." "Nachtw?chternetzwerk," Radikal corrected quickly. "Right, thanks," I said. "Have you guys been in contact with each other already? Because I''m worried that we''re going to be double-teamed over here." "We have only been in contact recently," Susan said. "As of yesterday, in fact, but this is one of our first official meetings to discuss how we all intend to move forwards." I nodded slowly. "So there''s no pre-existing agreement or something like that in place?" "Only an agreement to discuss things here and now," Radikal said. "Which is why our discovery of your project was so fortuitous." "How did you find out anyway?" I asked. "It''s not like we were trying to be obvious about it. Actually, it''s the opposite, we''re trying to be discreet here." Radikial shrugged his shoulders. "One of our netwerk''s samurai is an information gathering specialist. She let us know about the project and we researched it further. Likewise for the Keiretsu, though they were not nearly so secretive." "We have no intention to be subtle," Susan said. "The fatefaith of humanity and Earth is on the line. This is not a time for secrecy." "Oh, I don''t know, there''s a certain value in discretion," Radikal said. "But in any case, yes, I''m glad we''re all here to discuss things." "Yeah, cool," I said. "So, we want to address the elephant?" "The elephant?" Susan asked. His eyes glowed for a moment, then he nodded sagely. "Ah, yes, a western idiom, I see. Yes, we should address the elephant." I shifted in my camp seat. It wasn''t the most comfortable thing I''d sat on. "So, all three of us have ways to fuck up Phobos. I''m assuming some of these will interfere with the rest of us, and while I''m not point-hungry, I bet some people are and nabbing Phobos means a fuckload of points." "That''s a good point," Radikal said. "As things are, the project that would strike Phobos first is our own. It''s also the most likely to cause interference. Then the Keiretsu''s drones would be in strike range next, followed by your own project." "If our goal is to save Earth, is there any reason we should change that?" I asked. It would suck if we spent all these thousands of points on the Big Gun only for it to go to waste, but at least we''d all be alive enough to earn more points later. The doctor shifted slightly, then nodded. "Let''s first go over our individual projects so that we might all be on the same page, yes?" "That''s fair," I said. "Wanna go first?" "Certainly! The Nachtw?chternetzwerk has created an in-orbit device we''re calling the Weltraumgewittermeister Teslakollisionsgenerator." "That''s... the what?" "Ah, yes, forgive me. The... Space Storm Master Tesla Collision Generator? I believe that translation is accurate," he said with a nod. "It''s a large orbital device that we''ve installed and which is moving to Earth''s second Lagrange point as we speak. It should be arriving there within the hour, in fact." "And what''s this thing do?" I asked. "The device is capable of creating a charge in distant objects," he said. "Like... an electrical charge?" I asked. Were they gonna taze the moon or something? Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. "Exactly! The idea is simple. Introduce strong magnetic force through the Phobos object, thereby forcing it to rip itself apart. We can then induce more charges in the remains, causing them to crash back into each other. It''ll also allow us to keep or disperse the materials that make up Phobos." Susan hummed. "Our solution is not so elegant, though it is quite simple," he said before reaching below the camera and pulling up... a small steaming cup of tea. "We have sent up several large factory ships into orbit with two Ronin of the Keiretsu. They are supplying the ships with more materials. As we speak, a small force of drones has been launched from Earth''s orbit and are forming into a flight already on its way to Phobos." "What kind of drone?" I asked. "The first wave are kamikaze. Remotely operated explosive drones who will pepper the surface of the moon and clear it of alien life and clip Phobos'' wings. The next waves are equipped with powerful chemical lasers to heat the moon''s surface and cause the moon to deviate from its path." "Clever," I said. "And what of your Big Gun Project?" Doctor Radikal asked, if only to be polite. "What is your plan?" "We''re building a big gun, and we''re gonna shoot it." Susan gave me a look as if I ought to have been embarrassed from the lack of sophistication in our plan, but I didn''t care for that. "It''s a little more complex. We have portal tech. We''re shooting into a portal on Earth, and the bullet''s coming out of a portal in space. So we''re skipping the whole... get to space bit with our bullet." "Oh, that''s ingenious. I''ve noticed that your gun is quite large," Radikal said. "About a kilometre of railgun," I said. Susan actually seemed a little impressed now, nodding before he took another careful sip of his tea. "That is, in fact, a large gun," he admitted. "What is your intended payload?" "We have a lot of choices there," I said. "Personally, I wanna see what monofilament bombs could do to Phobos. Grasshopper has also sold me on the idea of Casaba Howitzers? Honestly, the thought of those kinda makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside." "Understandable," Doctor Radikal said, and for a moment I think we shared a bit of mutual enthusiasm for big things that went kaboom. "In light of what we do have... I suspect that our project here will be the one to cause the most interference. Perhaps less with the Big Gun project, as the Weltraum-Gewittermeister Tesla-Kollisionsgenerator will not interfere so much with a rapidly moving projectile, but our electromagnetic interference might very well destroy the Keiretsu drones." "That won''t matter if your project blows up Phobos before the drones get there, right?" I asked. "Perhaps! We certainly intend to try. The difficulty lies in the enemy response." "What do you mean?" I asked. Susan was the one to reply. "The adversary will not allow us to strike them with impunity. They will adapt. That is what they do." "Can the antithesis adapt to resist being crushed by a giant space magnet?" I asked. I wasn''t sure if I understood how the Weltra...whatevermeister worked, but I figured I had the gist of it. "Would you have expected them to be able to move a moon across the solar system a week ago?" Susan asked. "Fair point," I said. "So... what, we want to try a bunch of shit until something works?" "Exactly!" Doctor Radikal said. "If we''re to defeat the enemy, we either need a powerful alpha-strike, or to hit them with a large number of different attacks before they can adapt. The Keiretsu drone program allows for the construction of more drones with varied weapon emplacements, the Big Gun project allows for a variety of projectiles to be launched at the Antithesis. Combined with our own powerful attack, we will definitely succeed in destroying Phobos and saving Earth!" I grinned. The doc''s enthusiasm was infectious. "Alright, I''m down for that. I don''t think anyone here will be too upset if Phobos blows up before we get a chance to smack it. Is it the same on your end, Susan?" Susan nodded solemnly. "It is our sacred duty to protect. This allows all of us to contribute based on our merits and capabilities. I will address the other members of the Keiretsu, I suspect that we will all be glad to participate." "Cool," I said. "So... keep in touch?" *** Chapter Forty-Two - Cat to the Moon Chapter Forty-Two - Cat to the Moon "The 2028 Space Accord is an international agreement signed by all members of the G10 that, in essence, removes all limits on space-based weapons platforms installed by governments and private enterprises operating within signatory nations as long as these weapon platforms meet certain criteria. The most important of these is a system of safe locks, preventing the use of these weapons against Earthly civilian targets." --Excerpt from International Laws and Regulations, Seventy-Third Edition, 2035 *** "So... you bargained away our right to be the first to shoot?" Gomorrah asked. It wasn''t really a question, even if she''d given it that kind of tone. It was a reprimand. We were in a small office space next to the communication room where I''d just finished chatting with Doctor Radikal and Susan. The call had ended as quickly as it began. They were both far from our timezone, and either needed to hit the hay or just get shit started for the day, so we hadn''t lingered on goodbyes. It was myself, Gomorrah, and Grasshopper. It looked like the three of us formed the more... veteran part of the Big Gun Project. Oh, right, I''d need to tell the others that I''d kinda named our entire project without permission or input. That could wait a minute. "Bargained away makes it sound like I was being stupid on purpose," I said. "So you weren''t purposefully stupid?" Gomorrah asked with a slight tilt of her head. I paused, worked through the English there, then shook my head. "No, wait. What I mean is that what I did wasn''t stupid." Grasshopper reached over and touched Gomorrah on the shoulder gently. "Let''s give Catherine a chance to explain herself. It''s only fair. We gave her the task to bargain for us and our confidence that she would do her best, without first giving her all the information she''d need to do her best, or much time to consider things." I pointed to Grasshopper, because that was a damned good point. They''d kinda dropped me into the hot seat and I had to figure shit out all on my own there. It wasn''t exactly the fairest way of doing things. "Fine. Sorry Cat," Gomorrah said. "Grasshopper''s right, we kind of threw you into the situation. Nonetheless... I''d like an explanation of what went down, please." "Sure," I said with a nod. That I could do, no problem. "So, two factions, right? We''ve got the... uh, Myalis, how do I even pronounce their name?" Myalis took over the speakers in my helmet with a faint--probably artificial--crackle. "The name you''re going to fail to pronounce properly is the Nachtw?chternetzwerk. Literally the Night Watchmen Network." "Them," I said. "Their guy was this crazy mad scientist type. Like out of a cartoon or something, with the accent and all. Doctor Radikal. With a K. Nice guy, actually. Bit of a weirdo, but I wouldn''t mind chatting with him some more. The other gang is the Keiretsu, from east Asia. They''re not just Japanese, but I''m pretty sure the guy I spoke to--Susan--is." "I''ve heard of the Keiretsu," Gomorrah said. "They''re as large as the Family, and possibly more influential within the continent they operate in." "Really?" I asked. She shifted, arms dropping to her sides as she spoke. "They''re a conglomerate of corporate entities owned wholly or in part by samurai. Some of the corporations that make up the Keiretsu no longer have samurai leaders, but only because those leaders have died. If you have an Asian company and you want it to hit the top, you need to be part of the Keiretsu." "So it''s like a gang?" I asked. "No, but also yes. It''s more complicated than that. They''re mostly just there to provide support, but it''s an extensive network of connections that is hard to break into and which comes with a certain guarantee of quality and competence. A lot of the companies in the group are tiny operations, but they produce the best things and will only sell to other members." I had a decent image of how they worked already, but this was shining a lot more light on the whole situation. "Okay. I think I see what you''re painting here," I said. "So, let''s not fuck with them?" "Let''s not," she agreed. "Though I can''t see them being immediately antagonistic. We''re far outside of their jurisdiction and their business. And they love working with samurai. Your business would fit right in." I shrugged. "What do you know about the Night Watchmen Network?" I asked. "Nothing," Gomorrah said. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. "I know a little more," Grasshopper said. "I have a few friends that are part of their group. We''re in a shared maths enthusiasts group!" "Uh-huh," I said. "They''re less political or business-like than the Family or the Keiretsu. They''re more like a disjointed group of friends and compatriots from across a number of cities and countries. Even here in North America. How did it go, by the way? You haven''t told us much yet." "Right, right," I said. "So, yeah, the Night Watchmen get first dibs on blowing up Phobos. Or cooking it, I guess. They have a big... not-gun of their own that''s ready to fire." I''d received a text from Doctor Radikal, or more likely his AI. It was a link to a live count-down of when their project was going to fire. "They''re gonna shoot in about six hours." "We''ll be ready to shoot ourselves by then," Gomorrah said. "We will, but it''ll take a while for anything we shoot to reach Phobos," Grasshopper pointed out. "Even after being shot from the Big Gun?" I asked. "It''s... a really big gun, won''t our bullet be moving hella fast?" "Hella fast indeed," Grasshopper said with a serious nod. "But space is ''hella big'' as well, so even at such speeds it will take a long time for our bullet to reach its target." That was fair, I supposed. I didn''t know enough to comment either way. "Right, well, after the nerds fire up their tesla microwave gun thing, the Keiratsu have an army of drones being built. I think they''ve launched the first couple of waves already. They''ll be arriving at Phobos second. No ETA on that one." "Drones?" Gomorrah asked. "Any more details than that?" "Uh, the first wave are suicide drones, then they wanna use drones with thermal stuff to make the moon''s direction change." I had no idea how that would work. Would warming something up in space really make it change directions? I didn''t wanna look like a dumbass, so I kept my mouth shut about it. "Clever," Grasshopper said. "They''re producing the drones in space?" "From what I gathered, yeah," I said. "Then we''ll have a constant supply of harassment for Phobos." "Can''t we do the same?" I asked. "Not at the moment, no," Grasshopper said. "We''re limited to a single approach vector at the moment. Where we can vary things a lot is with our choice of munitions, but our Big Gun can only fire so many times." "We can''t fire non-stop?" I asked. She shook her head. "The cannon is designed to fire once an hour at a normal, efficient rate. We can double that, but we''ll be pushing up our maintenance needs and we''ll burn through our electrical capacity." I wouldn''t even pretend to understand how a railgun actually worked. If Grasshopper said once an hour, then it was once an hour. That felt a little slow to me, at least until I started to take in just how fucking awesome what we were doing was. "Anyway, we''re third in line. If the nerd''s super energy weapon fucks Phobos up, then we''ve wasted all this effort." "Nonsense," Grasshopper said. "We made friends and learned all sorts of things. That''s not wasted effort. A lost opportunity isn''t a loss of time." I grinned. "Sure. Anyway, it doesn''t sound like the Keiretsu''s shit is gonna take Phobos out in one swoop. More like they''re aiming to soften the moon up, kill it by chipping away at it for however long it takes until the whole thing gives up." "It''s a valid tactic against the antithesis," Gomorrah said. "You often have to choose between a single decisive strike or a variable war of attrition where you don''t use the same tactics often enough for the antithesis to adapt." "I think he said something like that," I said. "Susan, I mean. It''s valid, I guess. Not my kind of thing." "You also agreed to this project because it has exceptional alpha-strike capabilities," Gomorrah said. "I''m just an alpha kinda person," I agreed. "I''m not going to dignify that with a response," Gomorrah said. "I''m not big on dignity anyway," I shot back. "So, you still angry that we''re in third?" "... No. I''m not upset. Sorry, Cat, I shouldn''t have jumped to conclusions," Gomorrah said, sounding all mature and shit. "We''ll hope that the Nachtw?chternetzwerk succeed and if they don''t, then we''ll do what we can to work with the others." "Awesome," I said while deep down I was kinda annoyed that she''d pronounced that perfectly without a hitch. I checked the timer again. "We''ve got a few hours until they do their thing. Should we finish up the Big Gun then sit back and watch?" *** The Ongoing Contest has come to a close! The Ongoing Contest has come to a close! Somehow, this one took longer than the last... and it''s all my fault for being so slow. My bad! I''ll try to make the next ones a little faster! So, the Ongoing contest is probably the entry that means the most. It has fewer stories within it, but these stories are ongoing pieces of art in the SCS world, which is impossibly cool! I''m particularly proud of this part of the contest since it means that there are people dedicated to writing SCS fanfiction over months, and some over the span of a year! That''s incredibly heartwarming! There can only be one winner, however... Presenting this year''s Ongoing Contest winner... A Joytoy''s Journey to become a Hive-Queen By PhyonesArc! Joytoy is such an interesting take on the SCS world. SCS never shied much from poking at the darker side of cyberpunk, but as an author, I never found myself too confident and willing to dive into subjects that some might find a little disturbing. Phyones did that here, with both grace and elegance, and a fair amount of decorum. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. It makes Joytoy something really special. I''m not sure if it''s for everyone, but it''s a subject that deserves a good exploration. It definitely helps that the writing is far above par. The main character is enticing and interesting, the world she lives in is at once cruel and yet mundane, and there''s just enough hope to keep the very real-feeling people in that world going. If you want to read something different, then give Joytoy a try! I really wanna shout out Teddy Bears on Brigade as well. I don''t know if I can do split winners a second time in this contest (and I suspect that Wombat will be taking the prize in one of the next categories anyway, they''re just that good). T-BoB is a lot closer to SCS in style and substance, only it''s a lot cuter in many ways! I''d also be remise if I didn''t tell people to give it a try, especially those who might not want to take a big plunge within the world of Joytoy. Keep warm; stay cool, -RavensDagger SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner: A Joytoys Journey to become a Hive-Queen By PhyonesArc! SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner: A Joytoy''s Journey to become a Hive-Queen By PhyonesArc! Chapter 1 - A (literal) pain in the Ass "In modern society the usage of narcotics has long since become much more normal than it had been even thirty years ago. The biggest reasons for that are more supply, less controls, less stigmatisation, and generally less fucks to give. An average of 40% of the adult population admits to consuming some form of drug regularly, a staggering 30% almost daily. The real number is probably much higher."

"Modern Society, a retrospective," 2056

With an incessant beeping I got ripped out of my sleep, my head throbbing like someone was playing the drums on my skull. Croaking my displeasure, before coughing up some bile, I reached over and tried to smash the alarm clock off, whilst simultaneously vomiting the last of the alcohol and what pitiful food I had yesterday into the trash can. Eventually I hit the stupid alarm and groaned, taking some heaving breaths before dry heaving a couple more times. Next to me someone moved, warm naked flesh touching my own. I could feel breasts on my back as Sarah tried to use me as a pillow¡ again. I groaned once more, ignored the warmth behind me, much too hungover to enjoy the feeling, and got up. I didn''t dislike Sarah, she was a nice girl, at least when she wasn''t drunk. Which was quite the rare occasion now that I thought about it, considering it had been weeks since I had last seen her sober. No, what irked me was that I couldn''t have my own bed. It wasn''t her fault, of course. We had to share bed and board to keep the costs down, and even then we barely made enough, even with four people in an apartment I would barely consider large enough for one. Mumbling something to myself I got up, staggering from the alcohol and other shit still remaining in my system from last night. With a bit of effort I made my way over to our kitchen, although calling the shitty hole in the wall stove a kitchen was gloriously overselling things. I opened the fridge, grimacing at the ear grating squeaking sound it made, grabbed whatever cheap beer we had left, opened it, and downed half the bottle to clear the bile out of my mouth. I know I shouldn''t, I was an alcoholic and should probably stop if only to save like half the pitiful amount of money I made each month, but I''d been taking all kinds of drugs since my very early teenage years and by this point the amount of fucks I had left to give the universe at large were somewhere between nonexistent and fuck all. "Get the fuck up." I mumbled loudly before I finished my beer, throwing the empty can into the corner where the rest of the cans had already assembled to discuss our abuse of their contents. Someone would have to clean up soon¡ And considering this dingy household, that someone would be me. Of course my rambling wasn''t near enough to wake them, pissdrunk and high off their tits as they had been the previous evening. Sarah was still in dreamland, naked with a blanket barely over her long legs. Tina and Sharon were still asleep on the other mattress in the corner, limbs entangled from last night''s fun, empty beer cans still next to them. Once upon a time they too had a bed, but considering Sharon''s unquenchable lust, that thing had been fucked through not even three months after she had moved in. Since they didn''t have enough money for a new one, and Sarah and I weren''t about to fork our pitiful creds over for them to break the bed again, the stained mattress it was. Grumbling once more I stumbled over to kick the two awake, before I went over to Sarah to do the same. We all had to work soon and our boss wouldn''t be happy with us being late again. I didn''t know the schedule of the others, but I was booked out for the next couple days, and some of the clients paid good money to bend me over the bed frame. The lot of us were joytoys, little more than cheap whores. Once upon a time joytoys were more than just harlots, but over time things had changed in our redlight district, different gangs moved in, and by now all you were expected to do was spread your legs and act like you enjoyed your time. They didn''t even care if you were barely capable of walking from a near overdose. Okay, things weren''t quite that bad, I was just pissy. Our job didn''t suck entirely, and I liked doing it, most of the time. Ever since I had my first period my libido had been high, and even before I had turned eighteen I had my fair share of partners in the gangs, mostly to get my hands on more drugs. After they threw me out¡ Well¡ I didn''t have much in terms of options. And frankly by that point I no longer had any inhibitions about spreading my legs to get what I wanted, nor enough fucks to spare to care about dignity. Picking up whatever clean clothing I still had, none of us really cared who wore what as long as it all got cleaned afterwards, I slipped into my "work uniform". A skimpy bra that only hid my nipples, a nearly see through blouse that underlined my small but perky breasts, and a short mini skirt that barely hid the wonders beneath from the world. I decided to skip underwear, wouldn''t wear it for long anyway and I knew for a fact that most of my clients liked the cheap whore high on low-grade shit look that I usually had. Every joytoy had their theme and their regulars, and I was quite well known around the district for mine. Considering my client throughput and my reliability at doing my job, leaving quite the satisfied customers, I had already been entrusted with organising my own group of joytoys, basically being in charge of my wing of the brothel. Seraphine Bloodfallen was a known name, even outside of our little shithole of a district, at least among the cheaper brothels anyways. By this time the others had gotten up as well, most of them groaning loudly. "Shit¡ morning again already?" Tina mumbled, rubbing her eyes. Sharon looked worse for wear as she plucked her favourite anal beads still inserted in her loose ass from last night. "Fuck¡ And I can''t come in late again. I''m booked soon," she said, growling, although nobody would believe her if she said she wasn''t looking forward to it. My libido was high, she was an outright slut. She could fuck around all day and still want more. Part of it was of course that one of her favourite drugs did wonders to rile you up even more, so she and Tina ended up basically fucking every night before passing out. "I wish I could skip today," Sarah mumbled, before groggily getting up, only staggering a little. She was still drunk, as usual. Sarah was the only one of us who only did the job because of the money. She refrained from as much sex outside of work as she could, and typically only ever took clients while she was pissdrunk or completely out of it. I had talked to her multiple times about finding another job, but she couldn''t, or maybe wouldn''t, I didn''t exactly know. "Well, hurry up. Leon will be here shortly to pick us up," I said, then stretched lavishly, which had Sharon blatantly looking me over for a moment. Leon was another joytoy who worked with us, one of the few male joytoys I actually liked and had spent some time with. Normally I was more one for women, but he was alright. And he had shown me a few tricks to use on my male clients, which had paid off quite handsomely in my pay. I vanish into the bath for my first round of hygiene for the day; We would all clean up again at the brothel, but I liked to start here, just to keep the routine going. By the time I was done the rest of the girls had dressed up, although Sarah was already nursing her second beer for the day. The woman was nearly my height just sitting down, not to mention when she stood, even with my heels. As always, it irked me; My height was the only thing about my appearance that I disliked. Everything else about me was great, I looked good, knew it, and wasn''t ashamed to show it. But my height¡ ugh. In a way it was a blessing. I looked young, innocent and defilable despite being nearly twenty, and lots of geezers got off on getting me utterly fucked up on smack before they dominated me, so I never had to worry about getting enough jobs. It also helped that I basically dealt with nearly any fetish they knocked at my door with, which meant a wide variety of people who would pay for my services. Sarah had more problems in that regard. She was beautiful, don''t get me wrong, but she towered over even the taller men. There was a market for everyone, of course, but some were more in demand than others. She was also extremely vanilla, the most she would ever do would be stuff like feet or any of the other, more innocent, things. And that meant fewer jobs, which meant less pay. If money wouldn''t be an issue for her, she would probably be happy about it, knowing her. Regardless, we had to leave. I quickly pocketed my things, which consisted of a few joints, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, some of the more esoteric stuff available around the district, and a couple of toys that I would need today that I didn''t have in my room in the brothel. We had most everything you could want there, and they didn''t care what we took home, as long as we had it with us when it was needed, but I never liked doing that. Oh, I liked having toys available for whenever the mood struck me; I just didn''t like having them missing when a client came knocking with a surprise request. I might be a cheap whore high on even cheaper drugs, but I did take my job seriously. We filed out of the dingy apartment, not that it was much of one, and all went downstairs with a beer in hand. To any outsiders it might be a bit over the top with how fucked up our life and addictions were, but we were hardly an exception in this district. In the last twenty years or so this place had lost a lot of its former glory, thanks to multiple gang takeovers that had ended with less and less people giving a fuck about keeping the image up. As a result narcotics had quickly become widespread, I don''t think there were many if any people living in these parts that didn''t take some form of shit regularly, especially with how cheap the stuff was around here. Coinciding with the gang''s arrival, the clientele shifted, a lot of the wealthy high classers who originally would come to our part of town for a nice time were replaced by bangers, which meant less money, which meant the quality of things went even more to shit. By this point most of the brothels around here were the cheap kind, although Victor''s was a bit of an exception even then. The Rose Carpet was, well, maybe not specialised on the use of narcotics, but we had probably the loosest rules about that kind of crap in the area. That meant that we got most of the joytoys who did the job for money and didn''t know how to handle it other than drowning their sorrows, just like Sarah. Of course we also got people like me, addicts who couldn''t do another job and didn''t care about bending over for whomever came knocking with a creditchip. When we arrived downstairs Leon was already waiting for us in his rust bucket of a van, an older model he inherited from his pops. The lump of metal was nothing grand but it worked, and none of us could really afford to take the cab each morning. Even down here in the last reaches of the outer city, the taxi service was incredibly overpriced. "Morning," I grumbled as I opened the van door and got in, Tina and Sharon trailing close behind me, while Sarah climbed into the passenger seat. She always took shotgun, despite always complaining that it was too small for her long legs. The moment someone else dared to get near to it however, she threw a fit about how it was hers. "Morning. You look like shit," Leon muttered. The man was always worrying about us, which was adorable, but also sometimes incredibly annoying. "Yeah yeah, we know. Now get going before we are late again," Sharon grumbled, already visibly excited for the work day despite her bad mood. "I only got four clients for the day. The first three are regulars, the last booked the entire afternoon and evening. Seems to be the cuddly sort," I said, checking my schedule and the requests that came with them. I knew the first would suck, I saw him often. Giant dick, big enough to hurt, and he was totally into anal, so I was already prepared to nurse my bumhole back to health after his session. The other two were relatively normal, although one had once again asked for a collar and leash, plus some ''catnip'' as he called it. I knew what that meant, it was good that I had packed extra. The last was a woman, military from the looks of it, but surprisingly, not the dominating kind. Of course there were all types, but my experience with the more normal military girls was that they wanted to be in charge, often that meant more than just saying what we should do. This one however, wanted cuddles, lots and lots of cuddles. The rest of her sheet was¡ empty, to say the least. No likes or dislikes mentioned, only a footnote of taking things slow. She seemed a bit out of place for this kind of area, truth be told, not to mention her wishes for the day. Not that it mattered much to me, she was cute and was paying, so if she wanted to cuddle the day away, I would oblige her. "Damn¡ I''m packed. Eight clients, one a threesome, one a foursome. Hope I can keep it up the entire night," Sharon said, hand already between her legs, ruining the cheap seats. "Well, let''s hope you can still walk straight after," Leon said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Luckily, my day will be calm. I only have a halfday, rest of the day I''m on service duty." "Wanna switch?" Sarah grumbled, already in a bad mood. "Five clients, all of them with some strange fetish. Any of you have experience in foot jobs? Can''t remember the last time I did one of those." Of course Sharon was more than willing to help her refresh her memory, and soon the entire drive was filled with her regaling Sarah on how to do a proper job, what to focus on and what to avoid. It was informative, but only in the context of getting better at the job. I didn''t like feet and luckily I didn''t have to deal with that often. By the time she had gone through everything she knew, we had already parked and I was opening the door. "Well, good luck y''all, and have fun," I said in a deadpan tone before I walked off, throwing the empty beer can in a trash bin outside the brothel. Since I was in charge of my part of the brothel, I had some other shit to do before the clients came in. It mainly involved sorting out some of the more annoying things, like helping newcomers get situated, getting them adjusted, showing them how to do a proper job, that kind of shit. The last part at least could be fun, especially if they were one of the more eager ones. Heading into the brothel, I quickly found a group of joytoys standing around one of the new guys, who looked highly awkward and maybe a bit overwhelmed. "Morning," I mumbled, then looked around, "Anyone need anything before I show him the ropes?" It turned out, a couple had some minor concerns such as missing or broken toys, nearly empty booze cupboards, broken furniture, the works. I noted all of that down to send it over to Vic, who''d get on it to replace all the stuff. One of the girls had some questions about some of the toys for me, so I spent a couple of minutes showing her how to properly use them. Of course, as I always did, I reminded them to take their birth control, pay attention to hygiene, the usual shit people tend to quickly forget or ignore. We had a couple of accidental pregnancies before and they always meant trouble. When a joytoy got pregnant, the clients often didn''t want anything to do with it. That meant abortions, or if that wasn''t in the books, another brat ending up at the foster homes nearby. No matter what way things went, there were pretty much always heated tempers, loud words, and inane discussions about responsibility. I knew some clients paid extra for pregnant girls, but that was a rarity around these parts. The most difficult situations were when one of the guys got a client pregnant. Technically there was a clause that said that anything that could end in pregnancy wasn''t allowed, but since people are stupid, especially when high, drunk, and horny, that rule was so often disregarded that it might as well not exist. Problem was, someone had to fork over child support and what-have-you, and of course, since I was the person in charge, it would be my job to sort the shit out. Fucking grand. Despite the fucked up work life we had, I always made sure that at least the joytoys under me paid attention to all the important crap. More than once I sent someone home to clean up after they came in too fucked up to work. The redlight district was my home, and while it was a bit of a shithole - actually not just a bit - I wanted to make sure we were taken seriously. My goal was that one day we''d be seen as more than living onaholes, even if that was a bit of a pipedream with the current situation around the district. After I was done with all the minor stuff it was time to show the new guy the ropes. "Okay, Paul, was it?" I asked as we walked. "Yes, ma''am." The boy replied in an overly formal fashion, obviously a bit embarrassed. "Okay, Paul. So we generally have a couple of rules around here that you should remember. The two most important for you are the following: No raw dogging. I don''t care if you use a condom or if you pull out, just make sure that we don''t have accidents, okay? And nothing that would hurt you or the client. I don''t care how much money they shell out, that is just not something we do here. If they throw a fit feel free to refer them to me." It didn''t take long before we arrived at our hallway, one of the ones on the first floor. I motioned to a door as we walked past. "That is my room. I''ll be available in between clients, but don''t hesitate to come to me when there is an emergency." "The room over there," I pointed to one of the ones furthest down the hallway, "is yours. You should find anything you need in there. Toys can be taken home, but I recommend against it. If you forget one and ask for one from another room because you need it I will note that. Similarly all toys used should be cleaned after each client. That is your responsibility, and if I notice that you don''t that will mean a whole bunch of annoying shit coming your way, understood?" "Yes, ma''am!" This guy seemed to be the sort to listen closely and pay attention, which made me like him immediately. "Good. I don''t care what you do in your free time, who you fuck around with and what kind of shit you push into your veins, but you always need to make sure that you don''t have anything infectious while at work. STD tests, blood tests, that kind of stuff will need to be done once every two weeks at minimum. We have a doc we work with who can do that, so if you need a test just ring them up. I recommend keeping a full papertrail on your tests. It''s annoying, but we had some problems in the past when one of the joytoys didn''t have paperwork for some of the older tests." Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! "Yes, ma''am. I''ll make sure to keep all the tests I do." I nodded and smiled at him, just as we arrived at his room. "Now then, how experienced are you? Not just vanilla stuff, I mean in general?" He turned beet red and didn''t meet my eyes. "Uhm¡ I had a girlfriend once, who I did it with a couple times. Nothing more¡ uhm¡ extreme? Though." I nodded, "No shame in that. We can spend some time going over things now." Saying that, I opened the door and walked inside. Once in the room I quickly checked if everything was in order, then turned around to him. "Let''s start small. Show me how you would pleasure me with your mouth." He looked at me with wide eyes and an obvious boner in his pants. After a couple rounds with Paul, showing him some of the tips and tricks I had picked up over the years, I left him to his devices. One of the more senior guys would later show him some more, but right now they were all busy, so that would take some time. Of course, since I had helped him find his footing, I had to spend some time filling in some paperwork. Mainly, what he was able to do at the moment, what kind of clients he accepted, et cetera. He was pretty typical for a guy that had just started as a joytoy, preferring women, but he had mentioned that he was willing to entertain men later on down the line, once he got a bit more confident in the job. He was best with oral, so that was noted, but generally he was good enough at the moment that I was willing to have him train with some other joytoys and without my direct supervision. Once that was done I had to deal with another rather new addition to the roster. The girl had just started over a week ago and was already showing the telltale signs of someone who was slipping into drug abuse to cope with the fact that she was selling out her body for money. Technically I didn''t need to deal with this, but I preferred to try and help them find another job, much like I had done with Sarah. Of course I couldn''t force them to do anything, and if she wanted to stay, or didn''t have another option, then that was just something I had to accept. I just really didn''t want to end up with another body we would find behind some dumpster with seven syringes in her arm. That was something we had too often around these parts and I had seen my fair share of overdose cases in the nearly two years I had spent here. The talk with her went¡ about as swimmingly as my talks with Sarah usually went. She was pissdrunk and down two doses of Shiver. Shiver was one of the more widespread drugs, especially in the brothels. It heightened sensitivity, worked like something of an aphrodisiac, and basically forced the body into heat. The problem with it was that it completely disabled rational thinking, was highly addictive, and made you much more susceptible to most of the other shit, including alcohol. The end result was like something out of one of those cheap porn movies, a guy or girl who just let anyone do whatever they wanted to them, as long as they got to cum their brains out, even things they would consider deeply disgusting when sober. Of course, that did mean that once they sobered up they tended to be horrified at what they had done, and that led to a quick downward spiral that usually ended in overdose. I tried my best to give her options, gave her some recommendations about different places she could try to apply to, that kind of stuff, but I doubted that she even properly understood me in her drug induced horny haze. With a sigh I left her room and noted down a reminder to keep an eye on her. I liked my job, I really did. I got to enjoy myself, make some money, and get free drugs. These were the kind of things I could do without. I wasn''t squeamish about death, I''d seen too many people die, either in gang shootouts or because of overdose, but that didn''t mean I wanted to see more of that. Especially because I was pretty certain that the girl could have a proper life, if she was able to get out of the shithole she was in. After a quick trip to the shower to clean up, I made my way to the bar to grab a drink. Sitting down at the counter, I checked the time. I would be on the clock in twenty minutes. The others already had jobs, but because of my other duties I usually started a little later. The bar was still pretty empty, it was still early in the day after all, but I saw a couple familiar faces. Dax came over to me, giving me a warm smile while he finished cleaning one of the glasses. "Seraphine, how are you?" he asked in his typical, warm voice. "You know how it is, Dax. How''re you doing?" I replied and smiled at him. He was one of the few men I had spent some time with outside of work. Not that we were best friends or anything, but we had spent a night or two together before. "I can''t complain. The usual before you start?" He knew me well, so when I nodded he didn''t take long to place my favourite drink in front of me. I thanked him and put it back, not caring too much about etiquette right now. "I''ve seen you''ve been busy already. How''s the new guy?" "Eh, he''s okay, pretty good with his tongue. Probably will be fully working in a couple days." "Oh? Enjoyed his service?" he smirked, knowing full well that I wasn''t above enjoying myself with the new hires. I gave him a wide smile in return, shifting a bit on my stool at the memory of Paul''s tongue playing around my nether regions. "Yup." "Gonna train him yourself, or leave that to the others?" "Nah, he''s good enough for the others to do that. I''m too busy with clients to spend much time there." I shrugged and motioned to the glass to ask for a refill. Dax of course obliged me, and soon I had another full drink in front of me, "I mean, you are popular. But I guess that makes sense considering how good you are." "Trying to rope me into another night spent together?" I asked with a smirk, then put the second drink back. "Nah," he shook his head, "I found myself a potential partner. We are still dancing around it a bit, but I am pretty sure she wants me as much as I want her." "Oh? Now that has me curious," I said with a grin, "Who''d you find?" "Nobody you''d know. She''s from the outer edges of the inner city. We met at a club, one thing led to another, and well¡" "Wow, Dax is moving up in the world. Inner city, eh?" I snorted, "Don''t forget about us little people in your new mansion." "Hey, you know I wouldn''t!" He sounded a bit hurt, "And I doubt I''d move in soon, if at all. Inner city ain''t really my style. Well, a bit early to think that far ahead anyways." We spoke for a bit longer and I had one more drink before I had to start working. By this point I was already pretty hammered, but I knew that both the first two clients would be very much into that. Really not looking forward to getting my asshole destroyed, I made my way up to my room and prepared. By the time I was done with my first three clients my ass was hurting like crazy. As if the first guy hadn''t been enough, the other two also had the funny idea of trying anal. Great. Taking a small break before my next client, I stood outside in the freezing night air, enjoying the feel of the breeze flowing over my skin with a joint in hand. Breaks were a newer addition to our business, courtesy of some Samurai who apparently was very pissed about the ''shoddy treatment of working girls'' (Yes, working girls! In this day and age¡), and so to stop the district being blown to kingdom come the gangs relented and added breaks to our schedule. Ten minutes a day. It wasn''t a lot, but I didn''t complain. If I was honest with myself, I was really looking forward to my last client for the day. She was cute, not exactly my preferred looks but getting very close to it, and I could already feel myself getting excited. I just hoped that she would be more relaxed than the others. Anyways, finishing my break I went inside once more, revelling in the leering looks I got from the clients waiting for their appointment with other joytoys. As I walked past them, I grinned with a bit of a sashay in my step before I made my way upstairs to my room. I had the second room in the eastern hallway, the first vacant at the moment after poor Lena OD''d on some designer drugs brought in by a client. That had been a very hard day to deal with. Lena had been my senior and in charge before me, even if she had basically given me all her responsibilities. Mainly that was to train me up, but also because she really couldn''t be arsed and was much more interested in snorting lines off of guys'' dicks. In a way she had been a lot like me, really liking her job, but where I preferred alcohol and shit like that while I got bent over, Lena was all in on the hard shit. I had kind of known that she would suffer this fate some day, and I don''t think she even minded too much. It had been her life, after all. To my surprise my next client was already there, waiting for me. For a moment I panicked. Did I read the time wrong? No, I still had ten minutes. She also didn''t seem impatient or angry, more¡ embarrassed? Awkward? Probably her first time visiting a joytoy. With a sweet smile I walked up to her. "Chloe, is it? I am Seraphine, it is such a pleasure to meet you," I said, hugging her tight for a moment, before I took one of her arms and hugged it, pressing it between my breasts. She was tall, nearly two heads taller than me, so I had to look up a bit, but I really didn''t mind. Her furious blush was distracting me too much for that. "I hope I didn''t keep you waiting for too long," I added, before motioning inside my room. "Uh¡ No, no, not at all. I just¡ didn''t know where to wait, is all." Her voice was quiet, her gaze locked on my figure. Chloe had the stature of a soldier, never quite relaxed. Otherwise she looked like any other girl you would see on the street, although she did have a bit more scanty looking clothes on than would be normal. Nothing scandalous, by far not as revealing as my own dress, but from her thin blouse it was quite evident that she was excited for something. It fit her very well, and I was already looking forward to the evening. Gently dragging her inside, I closed the door and locked it behind me, before turning back to her. "Now then, honey, what can I do for you today? Any ideas on where to go or do you simply want to see what the evening brings?" Finally her eyes snapped up to mine, panic and embarrassment visible in her gaze, "I, uh, sorry, uhm¡ I honestly¡ I don''t know." I smiled, she was just too sweet, "No need to be shy, you came here to admire me so feel free to do so," I said with a teasing wink, before I took her hand and led her to the little bar in my room. It was just big enough for two people, and wasn''t a standard fare in other brothels from what I knew. "Would you like a drink to start off the afternoon?" I asked, opening the locked cupboard that contained all the drinks and drugs I had available. "Sure, I guess that would be nice," she said, and sat down at the bar. I nodded, "Any preferences?" "Not really, no. Just give me whatever." Bingo. She was cute and adorable and I already liked her a lot, but I wasn''t above pulling out the most expensive drink I had to get a few more creds out of her. Pouring us both a glass I put away the bottle before I made my way over to the second barstool. Taking a seat I leaned into her, while offering her one of the glasses. "You have never visited a joytoy before, have you?" I asked with a knowing smile. She chuckled, "That obvious, huh," she shook her head, "No, I haven''t. This is the first time. Decided to treat myself since I just got¡ let''s say promoted, not long ago." "Oh! How exciting!" I said and hugged her from the side, squeezing her a little, pressing my breasts into her side. "A promotion. Might I ask what you do for work?" She chuckled awkwardly, "Uhm¡ Not to be rude, but I don''t think I want to share that yet. Maybe later." "Oh, I apologise for the question," I said, scowling at myself a bit at that faux pa. "Nah, don''t worry about it. You couldn''t have known. Anyways, yeah, I have zero experience with¡ all this. Like, I kissed once, but that''s about it." She seemed extremely embarrassed about that statement. "Ah, well, we can change that. Just tell me when you are ready," I said with a purr, and sipped on my drink. Chloe didn''t answer, just took the glass and emptied it with one big gulp. It very much fit the serious way she held herself. "Y''know¡," she said after a moment, still eyeing the empty glass, "And I do apologise if this is a personal question, but I am curious¡ How do you do it? Like doing this job. I couldn''t imagine myself being here, even just getting here for an enjoyable evening is¡ embarrassing." She chuckled a moment later, but didn''t elaborate. I sighed inwardly. It was a question I got from a lot of women who came to me, the more chatty kind anyway. Most couldn''t fathom what it was to sell your body for money, a lot of them were judgmental about it. Not that they would refrain from happily using my services just like the rest of my clients. "Well, personally I like my job. I get paid to enjoy myself, fool around, have fun, and get drunk on the clock," I shrugged, "It also means I can help the others, who end up here because they have nowhere else to go." "Sure, but like¡ don''t you ever feel¡ I dunno¡ like you''re worth more?" Chloe asked, looking at me, studying me. There was no judgement there, only curiosity, so I bit back on my more rude reply. "Maybe¡ I don''t come from much. Ma and da disowned me when I was still a kid, abandoned me the moment I showed even the slightest reluctance to take over the family business. Went a lot with gangs then, did most of the stuff I do here, just without pay. Nearly no night I wasn''t bent over some bedframe to get fucked, high as a kite, that kind of thing y''know. Mind you, I wasn''t forced to, I always had a high libido, takes very little to get me really heated. When I got old enough this was basically the only thing I could do, since I didn''t want to join the military or some PMC. Not that I don''t want to help people, but it just¡ The fact that I might need to shoot other people on a daily basis scared me off. Was enough I had to do that in the gangs. Here I can help in other ways. At least the joytoys, I mean." I realised too late that I had gone on for a bit longer than I wanted to, my mind muddled from alcohol and weed, plus some of the more esoteric things that my previous client had me take. It also didn''t help that she made me feel¡ safe. Just having her next to me kind of reassured me about a lot of things, almost like life wasn''t quite as shit as it used to be. "I see¡," she said, still looking me up and down, a slight bit embarrassed still, but not as much as before. "I get that feeling, I think. Didn''t have it as bad as this, but we never had much in terms of money, nor did I get to grow up in the nicer parts of town. My family helped me, and I helped them, our neighbourhood was a close knit group. Did some gang work, although mostly to keep the placesafe, then joined the military. Only recently got out, to¡ pursue other venues," she added at the end, clearly keeping something from me, not that I minded. "Sorry, I came here to enjoy myself, and now I start asking questions about your personal life and bore you with my life story," she laughed awkwardly. "Oh no, don''t apologise. I am here to help you relax and have a good time, and sometimes that means more than just to sleep with the client. There was a time, before I became a joytoy, where that was actually a big part of the reason people came here. Have a chat with someone that wouldn''t judge them, before you got to have fun. Clear your mind, then relax. I¡ I''m kind of sad I didn''t get to experience that time. These days I open the door and the first order is ''on your knees''. I love it, true, but it could be more, y''know?" "I guess. Mind if I have another drink? Whatever you just got us, it''s good," she asked, pushing her glass over to me. I smiled and nodded, getting up to pour her another drink. "Maybe something¡ less exquisite? That one is expensive. Don''t want you to end up with too bad a surprise." I didn''t know why I asked, normally I kept that to myself and just poured drink after drink to earn more money. Something about her though¡ I couldn''t quite put my finger on it, but something deep down wanted to show her some courtesy. "Nah, it''s fine. I didn''t come from money but in recent history my life changed quite a lot. Unless you charge like a mil I don''t need to worry," she said with a laugh, "Still sounds fucking stupid to say that." I chuckled dutifully, although it did make me question why she was here if she had that kind of money. Lots of high profile brothels in other parts of town. With another drink poured I set it down in front of her, then put the bottle away and pulled out another joint, "Want one?" I asked, but she shook her head. With a shrug I lit it and took a deep pull. There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. "So¡ I didn''t know what to expect, so I booked double, any ideas how we could¡ enjoy that time?" Her adorable blush was back and I smiled at the sight. "I have lots and lots of ways. Do you want to keep it vanilla or are you open to experimentation? I have an entire wardrobe full of fun toys to try out if you want." That had her gulping. "I, uh¡ I guess, vanilla at first, but¡ I guess I am not too averse to experimentation?" I smiled, took another deep pull of the joint, then came back around the bar again, sitting down on her lap. "Well then¡," I said quietly, my voice husky, "How about¡ we start¡ here," I said, my free hand starting to roam her stomach, while I leaned in closer to her. She said she didn''t have experience, so I decided to take it slow and give her the opportunity to accept my offer of a kiss, instead of going for it myself. She seemed like she needed a bit of agency. Our lips met, making my heart skip a bit, before starting to beat faster. I could feel the heat in my abdomen, the familiar feeling of rising excitement. At first I kept it chaste, only giving her pecks, before eventually I started to slowly introduce my tongue to our little game. She accepted it, soon answering my approach with the same fervour. One of her hands came up to mine, slowly pulling it closer to her chest. But before I could start to enjoy it, undoing her blouse, the lights in my room flickered, the alarm started blasting full force, and a text appeared in my vision, big aggressive letters blinking at me in red.

INCURSION DETECTED!

"Fuck!" *** Chapter Forty-Three - Buying the Gate to Nowhere Chapter Forty-Three - Buying the Gate to Nowhere "Strange earth movement? Nah man, you don''t gotta worry. Yellowstone won''t blow." --Yellowstone Park Ranger, 2024 *** New Point Total: 21,124 I sucked in a breath as I saw that number. It was... lower than I''d like it to be. I mean, I still had a fuckload of points, I couldn''t complain, but a big part of me really hated spending money and points or whatever. It felt wrong to spend anything like that on stuff that wasn''t immediately necessary. ... Fuck, I really wasn''t a good capitalist, was I? I was sure there were like, therapies or something offered to help people become more used to spending what they had. Not that I really cared to go through that kind of shit. "Careful. Careful, dammit," Major Tinwhistle snapped. The thing I''d bought was being winched up by a crane that looked like it was three sizes bigger than what was necessary. It was the portal component of the railgun, a large boxy device with several attachments on the sides and a complex layered set of heatsinks on the back. The business-end, which faced the inside of the railgun''s barrel, was a large circular disk, slightly concave and very reflective. There wasn''t a portal on it yet. Myalis said that portals weren''t energy efficient at the best of times, so this one would act like something of a camera aperture. It would flick open and close the moment the projectile was to pass. The heatsinks and shit were to regulate the temperature. Both from the projectile, which was passing real close, and from the shift caused by both the portal itself and the vacuum of space doing space vacuum shit. "Careful," Major Tinwhistle said. She''d been spending most of her time this last day or so in the command tents and structure. But this bit was important enough that she was out here herself. I think it was to make sure that her engineers knew that any fuckups would be done right in front of their boss. Their boss who had a short staff, like a small batton riot cops used. She was using it to point to things, but it looked like it wouldn''t take much effort for that bat to be turned into some good old-fashioned encouragement for anyone that fucked up. I was sure that if she caught someone fooling around, that person would be earning themselves some bruising. Tinwhistle was a tight bundle of nerves at the moment. "She''s tense," I muttered to the samurai nearest to me. That meant Princess, Knight, Hedgehog, and Gomorrah. "That component is one of the most important parts of this project," Gomorrah said without looking up from a tablet. "It''s valuable." "Yeah, ten-thousand points valuable," I said. She glanced up. "I meant credit-wise," she said. "How much could it be worth?" I asked. Princess hummed. "It''s a portal to space, but like, it''s still a portal. We don''t have commercial portal technology, right?" "Not as far as I know," Knight said. "She''s right. Give a logistics corporation a portal like this and they''ll be making billions from it by the end of the month. If they can reverse engineer it and build their own, then that''s hundreds of billions of credits. Trillions, even." "Wait, what?" I asked. Gomorrah glanced up. "One of the major production bottlenecks is transportation logistics," she said. "Portal technology would neatly side-step that. Trillions is probably an understatement." "Oh... why the fuck hasn''t a samurai sold this then?" Sure, it was expensive as fuck. I could have bought another mech for the same price, but still.... If I may... the main reason is that human technology is still several centuries away from being able to create even the simplest of portals like this one. Not only does humanity''s grasp of mathematics and physics need to improve by several orders of magnitude, humanity at the moment currently lacks the sciences required to build the devices that are required to build the devices that you would need to build the simplest of parts required on a functional portal. "We''ll get there," Gomorrah said. So I assumed that Myalis was sending that to everyone. Kinda weird, actually. Myalis liked to get in on the conversation whereas I hadn''t heard a word from Princess'' AI and Atyacus, Gomorrah''s AI, was pretty darned reserved at the best of times. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. We paused our discussion as the portal was lowered into place. There were about six times more engineers stopping to stare than was necessary, but I didn''t blame them. This wasn''t the last step in creating the Big Gun, but it was the last important one. All that would remain after this was replacing some of the top plating over the end section of the gun and piping in some things. There were three large cistern container things being installed already. Huge off-white cylinders wide enough to park a semi-trailer in the centre with room to spare. They were going to hold the water for the cooling system, because apparently railguns ran hot. I was pretty sure they weren''t done piping those in, and the tanks weren''t filled up yet. Even now a truck pulling a massive chrome trailer was being connected to fill up one of the cylinders with deionized water. The pipework looked good, though. Tinwhistle''s engineers were doing the whole colour-coded pipe thing, and while it looked like overcomplicated spaghetti, it was well-organised overcomplicated spaghetti. Shit looked professional, which was how anyone sane would want things to look around a gun this big. The portal clunked into place, and four guys climbed down with wrenches and huge bolts to pin it in place while others undid the chains from the crane. Tinwhistle stared for a moment longer, then nodded and made her way over to us. "It''s going well," she said. "We should have everything in place and ready to go within the next three hours." "Are we on schedule, then?" I asked. "God no," she said. "Water deliveries will be stretched out another three days. We haven''t even started doing all of the checks that I want to. I won''t be willing to put my seal on this project for another week, at least." "You know we''ll all be dead by then, yeah?" I asked. She shrugged. "That''s why, on paper, every shot you take between now and then is a calibration shot or a system test. As far as the engineering board is concerned, this project will only be ready to go long after it''s either accomplished its job or we''re all dead." "Cool," I said with a nod. That made plenty of sense to me. There had to be ways to get around stupid paperwork-based restrictions. "Is the lack of water going to be a problem?" She shook her head. "I looked at the amount of cooling we needed to be barely functional, then multiplied it tenfold, then I did it again, because it''s one of the easier areas to have redundancies in." "Oh," I said. "Isn''t that overengineering?" She stared at me. "Yes. And?" "Uh. Okay." "Look, this is a big deal for my career," the Major said. "I''m not going to have it fuck up because we cut corners. Anything that can have redundancies will have redundancies. Those redundancies will have redundancies of their own. The first thing to fuck up will be investigated and those responsible will be taken out back and shot. And because we''re working with redundancies, they''ll be shot a second time to be sure." "Alright, I get it," I said as I raised my arms in surrender. Chick was nuts. I didn''t know if it was an engineering thing or not, but I wasn''t sure I wanted to find out. "So, how soon can we shoot?" The major looked at her tablet. "Three hours. Give us five, to be sure. Since this is a railgun, we''ll be doing a dryfire test first to see if all the capacitors are working as they should. I don''t expect any actual issues there. They''re all ET-tech and that shit has QC like nothing made on Earth." "ET-tech?" I asked. "Extra-terrestrial." "Ah." She meant protector-grade shit, which... yeah, I''d never heard of anything samurai purchased breaking because of poor quality. "Well okay then. I guess we''ll go watch our German pals for a bit, then come back and check up on you. Let us know as soon as the gun''s ready to fire." "That I can do," she said with a serious nod. "This... this is going to look so good on my record." I bet it would, but I wasn''t sure I wanted to be around the engineer. I might knock something over, and then she''d wail at me with that stick of hers. *** Chapter Forty-Four - The Weltraum-Gewittermeister Tesla-Kollisionsgenerator Chapter Forty-Four - The Weltraum-Gewittermeister Tesla-Kollisionsgenerator "No Catherine, a group of AI isn''t called a glitch." --Correspondence between Protector AI Myalis and Samurai Stray Cat, 2057 *** "I had to set this up in a hurry, and I didn''t want to use up too many points on something so non-essential, so forgive me if it''s not as great as it could be," Grasshopper said as she led us into a strange tent next to the command area. It was strange from the outside, the walls made of a glossy white material that reflected sunlight in a weird way. The walls seemed thick for a tent too, but otherwise it didn''t stand out too much. If I was driving by, I wouldn''t give it a second glance. The interior, however, was way stranger. There was a carpet, for one. Or maybe it was a rug? I didn''t know enough to tell the difference. Lights hung from the ceiling in little strips, casting a yellow glow against the walls, and there was a large television screen at the far end of the room. There was a single couch off to one side. It was beige with green specks that I soon realized were little cartoon grasshoppers patterned into the material. Other than that the only furniture was a mini fridge humming in the corner. "I tried to make it feel homey. I think everyone should order their own chairs, but if you don''t have a catalogue for it, just ask! I don''t mind! Oh, there''s snacks in the mini-fridge, please feel free to take anything you want." Grasshopper clapped her many hands together and smiled at the lot of us. I glanced back. I was here with Gomorrah and Princess and Knight, but Hedgehog was taking up the rear with Tankette and Rac was here too, next to Gros Baton. "So... what''s the goal here?" I asked. "It''s a viewing party," she said. "I sent a message to my friends in the Night Watchmen network and they agreed to patch us into their feed for the big event. It would be a shame to only learn what happened via reports instead of seeing it for ourselves." "They have cameras that good?" Gomorrah asked. "For a live feed, I mean." "The time delay is somewhat mitigated," Grasshopper said. "Though I didn''t look into the mechanics of it. I believe our front-row cameras are provided by the Keiretsu. They have monitoring drones closer to Phobos than anything else. Let me set things up while everyone makes themselves comfortable!" Tankette stepped up, tilted her head, and... didn''t quite hum something? Was she sub-vocalising? A moment later a seat thumped onto the rug a step before her. It was... a tank chair. Like, not a chair from a tank, probably, but a large, armoured lay-z-boy style recliner made of metal with thick rivets and a canvas-covered seat. "Did you ever get a furniture catalogue?" Gomorrah asked me. "No? Did you?" She nodded. "For the house. Atyacus, as discussed." A seat appeared for her too. A sort of love seat, all black leather with a subtle bit of black embroidery on it that hinted at flames without there actually being any. "Fuck ?a, j''vais me chercher une chaise normale. Tu veux quelque chose?" Gros Baton asked Rac. She shrugged, then left with him, supposedly on a quest to find some chairs. I squinted at a free spot on the ground. Did I have any catalogues with access to chairs? Did I even want to spend points on a chair to begin with? If you''re wondering, your Class I Medical Utilities catalogue does have seating available, but I''m afraid it won''t be anything too comfortable. Your Sunwatcher Technologies catalogue does have seating that should fit a human physiology. That sounded like a somewhat suspicious way of putting it. "Sure, nothing more than a dozen points or so. I don''t want to be broke because of a chair," I muttered. Certainly! What appeared wasn''t a chair. Chairs had right angles and a backrest and space for your ass. This thing looked like a padded bike seat at an angle, with cushions for the legs and a large pillow-like cushion at the front. I stared for a moment, trying to figure out exactly how I was supposed to sit on it before it clicked. "Wait, it''s like a bike?" The seat, if I could call it that, was a flat padded board to rest my stomach on, with the largest cushion just above that like an elevated bean bag chair for my upper body. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. "That''s an interesting seat," Gomorrah said. Her flat tone didn''t disguise her amusement one bit. "Yeah, yeah, shut up," I said. I wasn''t going to toss it out now, or else I''d look like a coward. So I walked up to the chair...thing and fell down onto it. It took some shifting for me to figure out how to be comfortable on it--my knees had to rest on two pads, and most of my weight was supported by that flat padded bit that ran all the way from my crotch up to my lower ribs--but once I was there, it really wasn''t all that bad. "Huh... this is nice on the back," I said. I did need to stretch my neck out a little to see the screen at the end of the room, though. Hedgehog stared at my seat for a bit, then shook his head and soon summoned... a bean bag chair. It didn''t suit the image I had of him at all, but it looked more comfortable than the fold-out chairs Gros Baton and Rac returned with a few minutes later. "Will Crackshot be joining us?" Grasshopper asked. Gomorrah shook her head. "He said he was going on a date in the group chat." "With Emoscythe?" I asked. "That''s who he asked out?" Gomorrah asked. "Yeah. I guess she said yes. He looked pretty excited about it all." "Oh, that''s wonderful!" Grasshopper said. "I hope they have a nice time together. Emoscythe Mordeath Noir is a good friend of mine. I''m sure she''ll treat Crackshot Cowboy well." "You''re not worried he might treat her wrong?" I asked. "And live?" she wondered. "... Yeah, nevermind, it was a stupid question." It took a bit for things to get started. Grasshopper acted like a good host--even though she didn''t need to--and made sure everyone had a drink nearby and access to snacks. Unfortunately her idea of a good drink was cold water or juice, and her idea of a snack was shit like celery. I was convinced that no one actually liked celery. Eating celery was performative, like doing a little dance to get likes on your media feed. I didn''t have to endure the celery for too long, though. Less than an hour after we arrived, Grasshopper excitedly turned the screen on. It immediately connected to a channel that wasn''t narrated or anything. This was raw footage of the inside of a command room of some sort. Rows of seats facing inwards towards a huge display, people in lab-coats and suits sitting behind computers and waiting for something to happen. A few samurai. Well, there was no way of knowing if they were samurai for certain, but they were dressed differently than all the rest. I did recognize Doctor Radikal in the bunch. "What''s this footage?" I asked. "Just the overview of the command room," Grasshopper said. "It''s live. We''ll be cutting to what they see once the operation starts." "Do we have an ETA on that?" Gomorrah asked. "We have another twenty minutes," Grasshopper said with a nod. "I wonder if the Keiretsu will be launching their own attack early." "That''d go against the agreement, no?" Tankette asked. "It was the Germans, then them, then us, right? I wasn''t paying too much attention, sorry." "Yeah. The Network''s not exactly German though," I said. "But close enough. I think Grasshopper means more... well, the Keiretsu''s attack isn''t going to be nearly as fast as the Network''s. I mean, how fast is their super weapon, anyway?" "As quick as gravity, I believe," Grasshopper said. I didn''t know how fast that was, but I had the impression that it was still faster than a suicidal drone swarm. "Something''s happening," Rac said. I glanced back at her, then up to the screen. It did, indeed, look like something was happening. The samurai were moving off to the side and the people at the desks were perking up. Some chatter came through, but it was all in German so I didn''t have a sense of what was being said. Then the screen switched to complete darkness. It took me a moment to notice the faint lights of distant stars. A HUD appeared over the screen, then it zoomed in on a distant spec. The more it zoomed, the greyer it became until there was an image of a rock floating in space in the centre of the screen. The wings could only mean that this was Phobos. "Oh, I should have gotten popcorn," Grasshopper lamented. *** Chapter Forty-Five - If Youre Unhappy and You Know It, Flap Your Wings! Chapter Forty-Five - If You''re Unhappy and You Know It, Flap Your Wings! "So, Chips as Subscription didn''t work out. So I was thinking... how about we continue our previous Product Size Adjustment? Introducing... Bag of Chip! Now available in all 725 flavours currently available! Low in calories, and each bag is large enough to have room for plenty of tangential advertising too!" --Layers Potato Chip Company, CFO Memo, 2038 *** We got a full HD view of space and Phobos in the distance, but it didn''t help explain anything. Which was why I was kind of thankful when a corner of the screen was suddenly taken up by a familiar face. Doctor Radikal adjusted his glasses, then ran a hand over his face. He had a thick five-o''-clock shadow. I didn''t know much about facial hair, but it looked like he might not have shaved in a day or three. Actually, the bags under his eyes suggested that maybe he just hadn''t slept in that time. "Ah, yes, greetings friends and compatriots," he said. "I see that we have listeners from both the Keiretsu and the Big Gun Project. Greetings, greetings." The image on the rest of the screen shifted, then zoomed out. It turned into a sort of map, an empty grid with Phobos on one end, lines pointing out which direction the moon was moving in, along with its relative velocity. More dots appeared, Keiretsu drones flying in formation with their own velocities plotted out and an ETA to impact. "As you can see, our partners'' drone flights are going to hit Phobos approximately nine hours from now. This first wave contains mostly high-yield thermonuclear deterrents. Ah, but before that, our Weltraumgewittermeister Teslakollisionsgenerator will be going online for the first time to hopefully rip the wandering moon asunder." The grid map zoomed out and out and out, then a new icon appeared, this one around a small green-blue marble that had to be Earth. The icon looked like a metal coil with some stylized lightning bolts around it. "The Weltraumgewittermeisterteslakollisionsgenerator will be coming online in t-minus... one minute. Oh my, one moment, I may be needed here." Doctor Radikal''s image disappeared. I shifted in my weird seat and glanced at the others. They were mostly relaxing. Tankette had stood up at some point and come back with more food. It was mostly mini carrots and some dipping sauce, and like, chips and popcorn, but the healthy kind which tasted alright but didn''t hold up against the artificial crap I''d grown up on. Still, I grabbed a bowl and stuffed my face full because I wasn''t raised to say no to free food. "So, I''m guessing we''re not actually going to get to see anything," I said. "Too far, right?" "You''d usually be quite correct," Grasshopper said. "But I suspect that there are enough sensor apparatus pointed at Phobos that we will actually be able to see something visually. Otherwise we''ll have to rely on real-time simulations." "Eh, good enough," I said. I was on the fence a little. I really wanted to see the Weltra... the storm tesla collider thing work. If it took out the moon in one hit, then that''d be that. Another part of me really wanted an excuse to use the Big Gun. We''d just built the world''s biggest hammer, it would be a shame if we couldn''t find anything vaguely nail-shaped to test it on. "Ah, I have returned!" Doctor Radikal said as his image reappeared. He tugged his tie loose and smiled. "The Weltraumgewittermeisterteslakollisionsgenerator is about to fire. Please observe the efforts of our work!" The screen flickered to a live feed of a space station. There was a long white boom arm extending away from a... thing. There was nothing to give anything a sense of scale, so I didn''t know if what I was looking at was the size of a building or something tiny. The stars in the back were shifting though, and soon things rotated enough that I saw Earth in the background. Then a small item detached itself from the satellite and flew closer, and I realized that it was an astronaut in a suit with some sort of jetpack on. They flew around the machine, giving me a sense of its scale compared to a person. And it was fucking massive. Well, no, I''d seen massive things before, skyscrapers and the like. This wasn''t anywhere near that scale. Even our Big Gun was larger by an order of magnitude. But the Storm Collider looked like it was as tall as a pair of semi-trailers parked end to end, maybe fifteen metres in diameter along the middle. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Mostly it was a white hexagonal pillar with some panels pushed open to reveal complex wiring and shit within. I didn''t have the multiple doctorates I''d need to make an educated guess at how it worked. The astronaut flew around, then hovered along the length of the boom arm holding the camera. They waved on the way by and disappeared out of frame. "Final checks complete," Doctor Radikal said. He wasn''t talking to us anymore. "How are the capacitors looking? Mhm? Okay, good good. Is Honey Tea giving us the all-clear? Yes, just make sure... good." The Doctor blinked, then refocused on the camera that I imagined was floating ahead of him. He had to have some greenscreen shit going on because even when it was clear he was in a room with others, the only thing that appeared in his corner was his body from the shoulders up. "We have green across the board. The device is ready. Firing at ten percent in... ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one... firing." I glanced from Radikal to the Storm Collider and... nothing happened? I was expecting a big lighting bolt, or some electrical currents, or something. Maybe a few lights along the side of the machine flashed? I wasn''t sure. Eventually a panel did open up and what looked like a massive heatsink unfolded itself. It might have been warm? It was hard to tell. The heatsink was dropped, and a drone flew out to pluck it out of space to bring it back to something offscreen. The screen switched to that zoomed-in view of Phobos, and I found myself sitting up straighter. The moon was being crushed. It wasn''t super obvious at first glance, but there was movement on the surface. Large areas of the moon were cracking. What was obvious were the wings. The massive almost butterfly-like wings spreading out from the sides of Phobos were being squeezed into the moon''s sides. Arcs of electrical energy were coursing along their surface, leaving long burning scars where they passed. "No immediate reaction from the moon," Doctor Radikal said. "Can I have the... yes, thank you." He brought something up, a tablet that he read over then nodded as if to himself. "Looks like the collider is working. We have signs that there have been several minor shifts on Phobos'' exterior structure. The moon''s temperature has risen by two degrees!" That didn''t sound like much at all, but maybe I was wrong. The shifts were probably a lot more impactful. I could imagine Phobos being filled with antithesis tunnels and hives within the moon''s surface. The equivalent of a small earthquake would mess those up. "Pushing to one hundred percent," Radikal said. This time there were definitely more lights on the Storm Collider flickering on and off. Each side of the collider opened, ejecting six heatsinks that were glowing red. Some even looked like they''d been slagged by the heat. "Hmm, minor damage alerts on the main collider''s cooling system," Radikal said. "Drachensch?pfer was right." The screen flicked back to a view of Phobos. This time there was no hiding that the Storm Collider had an effect. The moon looked like... like someone had grabbed a few pieces of paper, scrunched them into a ball, only now that same paper ball had been crushed by a giant''s hand. The massive wings were splattered against the moon''s sides and there were canyon-sized cracks running along across the surface. The far side of the moon exploded. Chunks of rock that the on-screen hud quickly measured as being half a kilometre long were tumbling away from the backside of the moon and spreading out. "Regrouping," Doctor Radikal said. There was a sort of pulse. I wasn''t sure how to describe it, but the reaction was plain to see. The bits of the moon scattering away paused, then came crashing back down against Phobos'' surface. "Nice!" I cheered. And then, because I had awful timing, the antithesis decided that this would be a good time to react. Massive tentacles burst out of the moon''s side, a thousand openings on their slimy surface disgorging tiny black forms that quickly hid against the black of space. More things came pouring out of the moon. Some huge, whale-like creatures that I''d never seen before, enormous ropey worms, and the moon looked like it was forcing itself apart once more, only this time the sections were linked together by long strands of living matter. Phobos had come alive, as if it was a single living thing host to a million little monsters, and it didn''t look happy about it. *** Stray Cat Strut Music! - Kill and Buy [Kuro-P] Link to the Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV3ONGVlOYM So, this has come out of absolutely nowhere for me! Made by the fantastic Kuroi just... because he felt like it? Here''s a heap of alternative links too: Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/album/6GauE8...Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. iTunes: / kill-and-buy-with-b-side-maniac-rising-single Amazon music: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0D... Check it out! And check out Kuroi''s other music too! Kuroi Chapter Forty-Six - Eww, What Even Is That? Chapter Forty-Six - Eww, What Even Is That? "Antithesis specimens are divided into broad categories called ''models.'' These models represent a general shape taken by the aliens, though there will always be some deviation between subjects of the same model, just as no two humans are exactly alike. Models are, in turn, categorised in tiers. Tier one represents all models from one to ten. Tier two represents all models from eleven to twenty, and so on." --Antithesis Identification - A Xenowatcher''s Primer, Birdwatchers of America, 2046 *** "What the fuck am I looking at?" I asked as I kept staring at the unfolding monstrosity on the screen. The antithesis... thing was unspooling long fleshy... not-quite-tentacles. These were bridging the gap between massive segments of Phobos'' surface crust, almost like some sort of weird shell being expanded outwards. There was a tug, and the shell started to close once more. Plates that had to be the size of entire provinces crashing togethers at the edges and sending small chunks of rocks flying every which way. That looks like the start of a Model Sixty-Eight. They''re one of the more esoteric biological constructs that the antithesis will deploy once they have space superiority. Think of it as a mobile hive. "That thing''s a hive?" I asked. But yeah, that made some sorta sense. "No, nevermind, that makes sense. It''s fucking massive though." Antithesis generally grow larger the higher the tier. This isn''t always the case, but there''s a definite pattern of growth, both in size and complexity and capability. A Model Sixty-Eight can grow to be the size of a small moon. As evidenced by what you''re seeing now. "Anything we need to know in particular about it?" I asked. "Or is it just a bigger, meaner bug that we need to squish?" Expect it to be able to move and manoeuvre in ways that would seem counter-intuitive based on its size and mass. Also, expect esoteric weapons and capabilities. Higher tier models are more versatile, and their biological nature doesn''t prevent them from using something akin to modern technology. I closed my eyes for a moment, then stood up, which was a little awkward considering the weird chair I''d bought. Somehow, my back felt... nice? I glanced across the room. The others were mostly glued on the screen, watching the alien moon writhe and reset itself. Data was streaming in on half the screen, and while I couldn''t parse it, I was sure Grasshopper and Gomorrah could. Maybe Hedgehog too. "Stray Cat?" Princess asked. "Are you leaving?" "I''m going to call Doctor Radikal," I said. "Susan too, I guess." I didn''t like being pushed into anything like a leadership position. It wasn''t my thing. But... fuck. I wasn''t awful at it. Not good enough to start bragging, but I wasn''t a complete dumbass. I could figure it out. I''d like to think that I had street smarts enough to handle the bottom rungs of New Montreal well enough. This whole thing was on another level, but some of that same logic applied across the board. My gut was telling me that this was like when two gangs that shared a block had to deal with some corpo fuckery. In that kind of situation, putting heads together was usually the best move. So I pulled up Doctor Radikal''s information on my contact''s list and gave him a call. It took two rings for the good doctor to reply. No video, voice only, but that was fine. "Ah! Stray Cat! Yes, I was just thinking I ought to give you a call. Susan as well. I imagine you''ve been watching our stream?" "I have, yeah. We set up a mini-cinema over here to watch it all live." "Yes, well, that means I won''t need to explain things too much," he said. "Can you give me but a moment? I will get into contact with Susan as well, we''ll make it so that a minimum of repetition is necessary." "Yeah, go ahead," I said as I finally stepped outside. It had started to drizzle a little, which was probably for the best. The rain was bringing down all of the dust that had been kicked up by the tractors and trucks moving around the site. It looked like most of the effort right now was being spent on closing up the top of the Big Gun with pre-made metal sheets. They were three-quarters of the way to the end. It took a few long seconds, but eventually Doctor Radikal came back on and there was a faint click as Susan joined the call. "Greetings, Stray Cat," he said. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "Heya," I replied. "So. Phobos was an egg and we''ve cracked it, huh?" "An apt metaphor," Doctor Radikal said. "Before entering this situation, we created a predictive ten-tier system for gauging the results of our weapons platform upon Phobos. One being absolute success, ten being an unmitigated disaster." "And this is an eleven sort of situation?" I asked. "No, merely a seven," he replied. Well, shit, they were more pessimistic than I was. "Seven still sounds a little bad," I said. "Did you predict this exact scenario?" "We did not, but we were aware that Phobos likely contained an active hive and that it may be able to evolve in response to our assaults. In any case, the Collider will be ready to fire once more in... six hours and forty nine minutes, and every six hours thereafter." "Okay, cool," I said. "Susan, any news on your end?" "The kamikaze are flying to Phobos as we speak. Soon you will see them strike the moon with all of our anger ready to be unleashed," Susan said. I didn''t know if it was the translation that made him sound so... poetic, or if he was just trying really hard. "I do not expect this first wave to finish our foe, but it will bloody them." A dozen or so nukes crashing into anything would bloody it, I figured. "It''s got some pretty big openings on the surface, from what I saw. That''ll sting once we slip something past the... egg-shell." "Indeed!" Doctor Radikal said. "It''s possible that the Keiretsu''s strike, followed by your own Big Gun''s shot, may be enough to kill this model Sixty-Eight. In which case the next use of the collider would merely crush Phobos back down into a large mound of rock. But I do not plan on holding out hope for such a high degree of success." "You don''t think it''ll work?" I asked. "I think that we''re punching upwards against a foe that is far stronger than we''d initially hoped. We would be remiss to expect the antithesis to roll over and allow themselves to die so easily." I nodded along. That did sound about right. "Our hits are gonna come in staggered, right? We can do one hit an hour here. That still leaves the aliens an hour to heal between each strike. How often can we use your collider?" "Four times a day," Doctor Radikal said. "Four times a day. Those times will be doing lots of damage, right? And the Keiretsu?" "Our drone production is only ramping up," he said. "The more time passes, the more frequently we''ll be able to strike." "Alright, okay," I said as I continued to nod. "This is going to be something of a longer fight, then. Not a fight of... what''s the word for a fight that''s won because one side ran out of resources?" "Attrition?" Doctor Radikal asked. "That''s the one. It''s not a battle of attrition since we''re ramping up and have more resources to call on the closer Phobos gets. If we see that what we''re doing isn''t working, then we ramp up. We can definitely afford to build a second Big Gun. I imagine your drone production can just keep growing. Not sure about your collider...." "We can upgrade it!" he said, sounding rather cheerful about the entire idea. "There are some here suggesting we do so already. A lot of the limitations we have on the device now are in place to allow it to function for longer under less strain. If there''s more risk that Phobos will be an unavoidable threat, then we can push the machine to its limits and beyond." "Okay, cool. We might want to time things going forwards. Either space it all out so that there''s non-stop damage against Phobos or time strikes to come in when Phobos is reeling already." Susan hummed. "We have time to attempt a few different approaches against the foe." "Time until Phobos is right upon us," Doctor Radikal said. "Is there any chance of that happening?" I asked. "Truly? I think it is unlikely. Several agencies are burying their heads in the sand, but as the last hours approach, I believe they will try anything. That might collide with our own attempts to save the world. Let''s focus on ridding ourselves of Phobos now rather than later." "Alright," I agreed. "Worse case, we''ll chip away at it, right? I saw lots of little bits of the moon flying off into space. I imagine we can continue doing that until it''s nothing but scattered dust, yeah?" "Those will be an issue," Susan said. "We''re going to have to contend with a great meteor shower. Though we can, given time, rid ourselves of any threateningly large objects." I puffed out a breath. It was one thing after another, wasn''t it? *** Chapter Forty-Seven - Kami-Cant Chapter Forty-Seven - Kami-Can''t "Drone warfare is changing everything. A soldier costs millions to train. A drone can be produced for cheap. American explosives, parts made in a Chinese 3d printer, motors made in Vietnam, with Taiwanese chips, running off of Indian software. Give me a million dollars and I''ll hand you a thousand flying bombs worth more than ten times their cost in soldiery." --Former Naytheon CEO Jim Jimmies, moments before retired US Marine Tucker Bison assassinated him, 2031 *** Just before I returned to our... cinema tent, I got a message from Grasshopper. The Big Gun was ready to fire. Before that, however, we had time to sit back and watch the Keirestsu''s kamikaze run. I was looking forward to it, actually. Seeing a nuke go off in space was going to be neat, I figured, and seeing multiple was... probably going to be pretty awesome. I wasn''t going to miss that. A sudden pang hit me as I walked back in though. I missed Lucy. Bet she would have loved to see this, but it was a little late to run back and fetch her. "Myalis, are we recording these streams?" I asked. Of course. For data analysis, if nothing else. There is also a possibility that these streams may serve as propaganda pieces later. I frowned, but... yeah, that was very possible. People needed to know that shit wasn''t hopeless, and what better way to give people hope than to show their enemy being peppered with nukes. "Hey," I said as I returned. "You''re back," Princess said. "How did it go?" I shrugged. "Not so bad, I think. Doctor Radikal calls it a seven out of ten on the shit scale. So it could have been worse. We''ll have to see how this next hit goes, and then give it our own shot." Gomorrah nodded from her seat nearer the front. "That seems reasonable. Are there any changes in the plan? New tactics or the like?" I flopped down onto my seat and stretched a little. Damn, it was kinda comfy. "Nothing too big. We''re switching to a sort of... war of not-quite-attrition from here on out. The Keirestsu can keep ramping up, and we''ll be in charge of smacking Phobos every hour on the hour. Our nerdier friends will crush the moon four times a day, so I think, overall, things will work out." "Oh, I see," Grasshopper said. "A war of attrition rarely works out against the antithesis, but in this particular case, the antithesis are playing a zero-sum game. They only have the moon''s resources at their disposal. And the ambient energy from the sun, I suppose. They can''t claim any more biomass than they have. Every piece of Phobos we carve away is part of their foundation gone forever." "That''s the rough idea, yeah," I said. "Do we have any idea when the Keiretsu''s thing¡ª" Grasshopper looked at one of her four wrists. There was an old-fashioned watch there, without even a digital screen. I didn''t know how to read clocks with the little arms like that, but I supposed she did. "In about five minutes," she said. "Enough time to warm up some more popcorn!" "I''ll get it," Tankette said as she hopped out of her seat. "No no, please. I''m feeling useless." The last was aimed at Hedgehog who had started to stand, presumably to help her. Tankette left, and I settled down to wait. We did chat for a bit, though not about anything too major. Gomorrah was debating with Grasshopper over the methods by which to burn Phobos. There were plenty of chemicals that could be lit up in some semblance of fire, even in empty space with no oxygen, but the issue seemed to be quantitative. A slug from the Big Gun had an upper limit on size, which meant that even with incredible amounts of compression, there was only so much gas or liquid that could be flung out at Phobos. Even the solid-fuel projectiles that would break up were relatively small. I could understand why Gomorrah was a little upset. Lighting shit on fire was her thing. "Maybe we can do one or two shots of something flammable," I said. As a treat. Plus the image of a chunk of Phobos burning would be good PR. Tankette returned just as the screen shifted. There was an image of Susan, in a boardroom filled up by a large round table. The people around him were samurai. Some three dozen in all, all of them dressed... like samurai, I supposed. There were a few punks, some dressed in form-fitting outfits that were extremely bright, and others in more traditional mil-spec armour and gear. One of them stood out to me, a woman with cat ears and a pair of long tails that twitched behind her, but hers were... not mechanical. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "We begin," one of the samurai that I didn''t recognize said. A dude in clothing that looked fit for a ninja, though his face was covered in a form-fitting demon mask, the eye holes filled with dozens of hexagonal lenses. "Please, foreign friends and allies, observe the work of our collective." The feed immediately switched to a set of some three dozen hexagonal camera feeds. Each of them were in space, but were feeding high-enough dimension footage that with some zoom we could make out the distant blob that was Phobos. A third of the screen was replaced by a plotter of sorts. A rotating three-dimensional view of the kamikaze swarm, blue lines trailing behind little triangles all shooting out towards a yellow circle that had to be Phobos. There was a Japanese kanji over the moon, one that Myalis translated as ''Enemy'' for me. "Final approach vectors locked in," an unfamiliar woman''s voice said in faintly accented English. "Thrusting in... three, two, one. Thrust. The stars in those hexagonal screens started to slip by just a little faster as the drones accelerated on the plotter. There were individual speed-readings, but I had no frame of reference for how fast they were going. I did see the... drive plumes--I think that''s what they were called--of some of the drones who were out ahead from the cameras of those farther back. It did seem like Phobos was getting larger faster. "Contact in... three minutes." I sat back and watched. It was strange, how fucky space made distances. The timer sank faster and faster. "Boosting first-contact drones," the woman said. "They''re making space. So that the drones don''t swallow each other in their blast radius," Grasshopper said. I nodded along. That made sense to me. And then, just as the timer was reaching one minute, one of the screens went dark. "Review!" the ninja guy''s voice snapped. The footage was played back. The drone had crashed into something dark and formless in the void of space. Two more drones blinked out. "Engaging evasive manoeuvres," the woman''s voice said. She didn''t sound quite as calm. "Nuclear warheads primed. Contingency twelve active. Sacrificing drones one through six." Four of the screens went white. From the viewpoint of the other drones, there were suddenly four suns floating in the void of space out ahead of them, growing balls of brilliant light that they just barely skimmed by a split second later. The plot showed the explosions as balls the size of marbles next to Phobos, which, comparatively, looked like a beachball on the screen now. Two more drones were lost. Then six more. The plotter started to fill with hundreds of contacts out in space. Winged monsters, black and nothing, some of them were discorging spines and spikes and exploding balls covered in thorns that caught some of the drones mid-flight. It was thinning the drone swarm. But not enough to prevent some from striking the moon''s surface. On the screen for those, it looked like Phobos went from a distant baseball-sized lump of rock to the moon suddenly being right up in their face. I jumped in my seat at the suddenness of it. Every screen went white. They switched to what I presumed was another observational drone, and we got to see nine growing spheres of bluish smoke expanding in front of Phobos. Their edges curled and twisted, a fractal that soon splashed across the moon''s surface. When the dust settled, there were expanding craters pock-marking the front of Phobos'' surface. "Nine successful detonations," the woman''s voice said. "Out of thirty-six kamikaze drones," ninja-guy said. "We will send the data now. Prepare for initial observations." The plotter grew to take up the entire screen, with notated information around each location that was struck. The shockwaves from the nukes were still travelling through Phobos'' surface, and the chunks blown off the moon were coming back down, crashing into it to leave even more cracks and dents on its all-grey surface. "Was... that a complete flop?" I asked. "What were those things, in space?" "Space-capable antithesis," Grasshopper said. "And I wouldn''t call it a flop. Rather... let''s call it a learning opportunity. We''ll have to do better, next time." "Next time is our turn," Gomorrah said. She stood. "Come on. Let''s try and see how well we can do." *** Chapter Forty-Eight - Push My Red Button Chapter Forty-Eight - Push My Red Button "What''s the big red button do? Why don''t you push it to find ou-- wait, don''t actually push!" --Transcript of a Recording of the Russian Incident of 2025 *** There was this strange thing that happened whenever something big and unique was going on. I''d first seen it a few years back. A large cylindrical truck had swayed around something on the road and rammed into one of those metal guardrail things on the roadside. The cab was totalled. The driver was very dead. And then some other truck drove right into the first''s rear. They''d had time to slow down a little, so it wasn''t nearly as big of a bang, but I could still remember the sound of it. I''d been a block or so over, and I knew that the noise didn''t come from gunfire. It was too... crunchy? Anyway, I''d wandered over to find that people had split into three camps. Two or three guys were checking on the driver, looking for a pulse, trying to get him out of the truck''s cabin. I might have been tempted to help, but by the time I arrived they were already giving it up as a bad job. Dude''s brains were across the dash anyway. The other two groups were much more populous. The truck was transporting fresh water. The people in the second group had grabbed buckets and were stealing all they could. Water was expensive. Clean water moreso. The last group, the one I''d been part of that day, just milled around a dozen metres away. Rumours spread, someone who might have seen the accident repeated their story a dozen times, and we all partook in some head shaking and complaining about whatever shit had caused the accident. It wasn''t a memory I called up often, but the moment felt pretty damned similar. The Big Gun was done. Major Tinwhistle was standing tall and proud, hands on hips and eyes stained red by strain and stress. "It''s done," she announced to Grasshopper. There were only two groups this time. The onlookers, composed of all of the engineers and soldiers who''d been roped into the project, and the samurai. Well, some of us, at least. A few had contributed what they needed to, and were just milling on the edge of the much bigger onlooker group. "Stray Cat, Gomorrah," Grasshopper said. She smiled at the both of us, then started towards the very back of the Big Gun. Or was it the front? The bit where the shooting would start, in any case, not the end with the exit portal. That part of the gun was like a small shack. A well-built, brutalist''s ideal of a small shack. The walls were foot thick concrete poured over inch-thick metal plates. The inside was a cramped little space that I was pretty sure came from one of Tankette''s catalogues. There were a few small adjustable seats in front of a complex set of screens and buttons. All analogue, at least on the surface. I did notice a few ports for data-jacking into the gun, like connecting into the Mesh. Grasshopper went to the furthest seat and sat, then she gestured to the other two. One was next to Grasshopper, the other at an angle near the rear of the room. "What are we going to open with?" she asked. "You mean what are we shooting first?" I asked. "We need to make a solid first impression." "Something with good penetrative power might be best for now," Gomorrah said. She looked across the screens and muttered something I didn''t catch, probably to Atyacus. They lit up. Diagnostics flashed by, and then a long list of status readouts. It looked like we were green across the board. There was only one item that was flashing. Hypervelocity Round Missing. "What about that Casaba-Howitzer?" I asked. "You''d mentioned those, Grasshopper, and I looked them up. They''re hot as hell." "That should carry some amount of penetrative power," Grasshopper agreed. "Load it in!" I blinked, then looked to my left where there was a heavy metal breach held closed by a chunky looking handle. "Oh," I said. I tugged the handle back, exposing a hole that was in a block of iron a foot and a bit wide and tall. A small engraving on the plate said INSERT SHELL HERE, which was pretty self-explanatory. "Myalis, got a casaba-howitzer for me?" I asked. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Certainly. Only two hundred points for one designed to fit into the Big Gun. I winced. Only my ass, that wasn''t cheap if we were going to be firing once an hour. Maybe we''d go for cheaper rounds later though, we did want to start with a literal bang. "Fine fine," I said. A shell appeared by my feet. It was in the usual cat-themed case, though this one had handles to better be able to grip the shell within. I opened it up, grunted as I pulled the bullet out, and then wondered which way was meant to go in first. The bullet was a cylinder with flat faces on either side and was made of what looked like polished steel. The right end goes in first. I nodded, then slotted that into the breach. It slid in with a faint whisper as air could just barely slip out along the edges of the round. Once it was settled in nice and neat, I tugged the breach closed and locked it with that big handle. The floor shook for a moment, and I could hear things moving beneath us. The screens lit up, and Grasshopper smiled at me before turning towards them. She pulled out a small datacord from her suit and plugged it into the machine. A moment later we had telemetry displayed before us. A plotter, similar to the one Keiretsu had used to show where their drones were, but a little simplified. It showed our satellite on one end, and Phobos way out in the distance. "Auto-targeting on. Let''s aim for centre mass?" "Sounds good," I said. "It won''t detonate right on the moon, right?" "We can adjust the detonation range. We do want it to be relatively close," Grasshopper said. "One thousand kilometres?" "That sounds far," I said. "We don''t want to be intercepted," Grasshopper replied. "Not before the howitzer fires. Closer is almost certainly better, however, when it comes to dealing any damage." "Right, right," I said. "Go on, then." Grasshopper tapped a few keys on a little numberpad recessed into the console, then reached over to the centre where there was a large red button covered by a clear plastic shell. She flicked up the shell, clicked on four toggles, and then paused as the Big Gun started to hum. Text appeared over the main screen. BOOT UP IN PROGRESS SHELL LOADED MAGNETS ON CAPACITORS AT... 100% TARGET LOCKED BLINK PORTAL TEST... PASSED READY TO FIRE "Does anyone in particular want to do the honours?" Grasshopper asked. She gestured at the large red button with the word FIRE stencilled across it. "I don''t particularly care," Gomorrah said. "Catherine?" "I mean... yeah, shit, I wouldn''t mind," I said. Grasshopper smiled and leaned over so that I could reach the button. I touched it, then pressed down. It made a satisfying little ''click'' noise. Then I felt every hair on my head pulling upwards and suddenly there was a deep and foreign itch in my bones. Text scrolled by on the screen, too fast for me to read. Then the Big Gun fired. There was a single thump. It was as if someone had dropped a fifty-five gallon drum off the top of a mega building and recorded the noise it made on meeting the ground. Everything rocked back and the dozens of readouts in the room flashed. "Oh shit, we good?" I asked. "We are well, yes," Grasshopper said. "Everything is still green. Look." She pointed to the plotter. There was a flashing green dot that had left Earth''s orbit and was now slowly crawling across the screen towards Phobos. The fact that it was moving at a speed that I could see, though, probably meant that it was moving at an obscene speed out there. "Nice!" I said. "When is it gonna hit?" "We have time for a small break," Grasshopper said. "Should we stock up on ammunition in the meantime? I somehow doubt this one strike will be enough to take Phobos down." "Right, not a bad idea. Do we want to try a few different things? I''ve got some ideas for what we can throw at them," I said. Gomorrah perked up. "Atyacus and I have been talking as well. Can I have the next shell?" "Go right on ahead," I said with a gesture to the breach. There were more holes like the breaches all along the back wall, where there was room to store a lot more shots. Something in my gut told me we''d probably need all of them before this was over. *** Interlude - The Free Radikal Interlude - The Free Radikal Doctor Radikal (Kaleb to his few friends) felt a hard thump against his back that almost sent him sprawling forwards, but he caught himself on the edge of a desk and glanced over his shoulder at the perpetrator. What he discovered was a familiar man, smiling gently in a way that didn''t suit his enormity. "Don''t worry so much," the big man said. "We''ve done well enough, haven''t we?" Kaleb let out a sigh, but he did nod. The Collider was, for the most part, a success. His AI had crunched the numbers, and the amount of damage the Phobos object was going to sustain from the collider alone should be enough to ensure that Phobos would only ever reach Earth in a state where Earthly forces would be able to defeat it. Moreover, they had built the collider knowing that they wouldn''t be the only ones to step up to the metaphorical plate in order to try and assist. He had expected... more, however. Perhaps this was his own fault. Kaleb was a scientist. He was born in a corporate scientific research compound to two parents who were researchers. He had grown up surrounded by men and women of science, where the rules or reality were second only to appeasing the whims of their corporate overlords. He''d gotten a good enough education and unmatchable practical learning from a very young age. In all the ways that mattered, he was encouraged to dive deep into the unknown and tear knowledge out of the grasp of reality. That''s how he liked to romanticise it. In reality most of the research had been done on the behest of various corporations trying to get a lead on their competition. They were entirely unwilling to share anything. That, and more often than not, their method of uncovering new truths was to deconstruct the work left behind by samurai. And then one thing led to another, and he''d become a samurai himself. "You''ve got that look on your face," his companion said. He grabbed Radikal by the shoulder and gave him a firm grip. It was going to leave bruises, Kaleb just knew it. "I know, Drachen, I know. I''m merely reminiscing on what brought us here." The big man, Drachensch?pfer, was a dear companion of his. A larger than life personality who didn''t know his own strength at the best of times. People dismissed him as an oaf on seeing his stature, but he was quite clever. It was no wonder Drachen had been chosen to be a samurai. Kaleb oft wondered why he, himself, was chosen. Shaking the thoughts away, Kaleb glanced across their control room. Seventeen stations with computers and systems fifty years ahead of where humanity''s greatest lay, all facing a massive screen whose definition was unmeasurable. This was the place from which they would save the Earth. There was no accounting for points and costs and such trivialities. And yet... the Collider wasn''t an immediate success. Nor had the Keiretsu''s first wave of drones. The great foe was as adaptable and clever as ever. "Drachen, I''m going to take a short walk," he said as he rolled his shoulder. "The bridge is yours." "The bridge is mine," Drachen said with a firm nod. He moved aside, then took Kaleb''s place behind the main control podium. "Will you be back in time to see the efforts of our Canadian friends?" "I''ll be back before then, yes," he replied with a nod before slipping out of the room. The Lab--the space where they''d set up their command and control room--wasn''t quite as spacious outside of the areas where space was necessary. The corridors were all rather narrow, so he found himself walking briskly through them until he reached a more open space. There was a bay window here, thick transparent plates jutting out of the wall with a small bench below. A space to sit and observe. At the moment, Neu Hamburg was below, the mega city slowly slipping by as the Lab flew past. ''You seem stressed. You are aware that the Collider has been successful so far.'' "It has," he subvocalized. "But I worry that it won''t be successful enough. There''s a margin here, and it is quite thin. A failure on our part... well, it wouldn''t be acceptable." ''If the situation deteriorates to that degree, there are options to call upon.'' Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. He nodded. There were, but he didn''t want to rely on those. Call it foolish pride, but he didn''t want to beg the higher tier, stronger samurai for assistance. They were preoccupied with Mars as it was, a situation that was in no way improving as each day passed. Pulling them back to Earth because he and his companions in the Nachtw?chternetzwerk couldn''t handle things would sting. His eyes were drawn to the deadzone beyond the edges of the city. The Lab would likely be flying over these soon, bathing the area in fire and using the opportunity to test a few new weapons in a space where that testing wouldn''t harm anyone. "Sometimes I wonder why I was chosen," he admitted. "I lack that... hopeful optimism of my comrades, do I not?" ''There''s more than one kind of hope.'' Kaleb frowned at that, then shrugged. That might well be true, but it wouldn''t settle his nerves. He let out a grunt, then turned and stomped back into the command room. Progress, scientific or otherwise, wouldn''t happen by being shy and restrained. He recalled that strange Canadian girl and her youthful disregard for pessimism. Perhaps it was all a facade, but that didn''t mean that it wasn''t a good way to lead. Kaleb swept into the room, lab coat billowing out behind him. He noticed a pair of samurai by Drachen at the command podium. "Report," he said. "Time until the Collider has cooled sufficiently?" One of the technicians jumped. The snap of his voice had them all sitting up straighter. "Four hours, sir." "Let''s tighten our intervals where we can. Collate the data from this first shot and get someone to extrapolate potential damages to the system going forwards. Let''s not waste the time we have, yes?" He turned to the others, nodded, then eyed the screen for a moment. The Big Gun had fired a few minutes ago. It had been mildly impressive. The portal system more so than the gun itself. Now they were following the projectile''s telemetry as it shot out across space on a collision course with Phobos. "Comms, send a message to the Keiretsu. I want all the data they can collect on Phobos'' geology. Not just the surface. We need geothermal readings as well. Midnight Ranger, can you share some of your sensor equipment with them if it comes to it?" The samurai in question blinked, then nodded. They weren''t a very vocal person, but their sensor technology was second to none. Kaleb hoped that the Keiretsu wouldn''t mind losing a drone in order to have better sensors around Phobos within the next couple of days. "Let''s have the Lab AI crunch some numbers," he said. "I want to know exactly what angle to strike Phobos at. Enough of our general assaults. Let''s concentrate our power where it will do the most." "That seems to be what the Big Gun team is doing," Drachen said. Kaleb perked an eyebrow at that and walked over to his friend. "They have? What is their payload?" "A Casaba-Howitzer," Drachen said. "Miss Grasshopper has forwarded us a list of their existing munitions. It seems as though they will be launching... everything at the rogue moon." Kaleb was familiar with the platform in question, but he hadn''t been expecting it as the first option the Big Gun team would be going for. He rather expected a simple nuclear device. "Well-well, that''ll be interesting to see, then," he said. He eyed the screen again. Seven minutes to impact. From earth to Phobos in what was about half an hour. Their travel speed was simply ludicrous. "We might want to consider installing similar weapon platforms in orbit," he said. Next time there was a Phobos-like disaster, it would do them all well to have the infrastructure in place to destroy it without the current mad scramble. But that was a problem for the future... assuming they made it there. "I can tell you''re worrying again," Drachen muttered. "Come on, friend, stop being concerned and start looking forwards to this! Our companions overseas are putting on a show for us, aren''t they? It''s impolite not to watch with enthusiasm!" "Hmph. Watching with enthusiasm isn''t what we need right now," Kaleb said. "Everyone, I want all of our surveillance equipment working properly before that strike lands. Our allies are giving us an opportunity to learn much, so let''s not miss it!" *** Interlude - The Samurais Samurai Interlude - The Samurai''s Samurai Susan shifted. He was on a soft cushion, one filled with a pad of a gel-like substance that had tiny motors within that kneaded the muscles of his leg, preventing them from falling asleep even after hours of being sat in seiza. It was a nice thing to have at the moment, because he had spent the day sitting here, and it didn''t look like it would change any time soon. Susan was in a well-appointed room. Traditional walls, but spaced far apart, a great glass wall that overlooked Tokyo, and a long, low table where he and his business partners could sit and discuss the current business. That business was the Big Gun group''s attempt at shaking up Phobos. "The projectile is on its final approach," Hex Kagome said. The many tiny panels over his eyes flashed through a quick pattern, then he nodded. "Our surveillance drone should be able to capture it." "Do we know what they''ve sent?" Sentai Blue asked. "I don''t care what it is, as long as it explodes in a fun way," Nya replied. Susan looked over the group. These were three of the nearly hundred Ronin that made up the Keiretsu. A full quarter of their organisation was invested in this one project, but many of the other samurai who were assisting could not be here now. A few had come to witness the first strike of their kamikaze drones first hand, but then they''d left, preoccupied by other matters. The global incursion wasn''t terrible for Japan, but it was putting a great strain on their more land-bound allies. Phobos was a problem they all had to deal with, but it lacked some intimacy for some of them. Susan took hold of a cup of warm tea--kept at the perfect temperature for sipping, and raised it to his lips. When he lowered it, it was to eye Nya. "Please calm down. I''m certain that our allies will do what they can." She grinned, then stretched all the way back, almost as if to show off the level of flexibility her oft-modified body held. "I''m sure. You saw their leader, n-yeah?" "Yes, I saw her," he replied socially. "And she is not, as far as I can tell, their leader, merely their spokesperson." "Their spokescat." "No," Susan said. She grinned, and he refused to look at her anymore, at least for the moment. He wondered what it would be like to work with Ronin who weren''t as insufferable. Nya had always had a... thing for her theme. Actually, he could say that about a lot of Ronin, himself included. There was a significant difference between the Ronin of Asia and the Samurai of the west, and it wasn''t just their strange nomenclature. There was a cultural difference as well. "Looks like it''s starting," Sentai Blue said. The man''s face was covered by a tight helmet which disguised his visage, blue and black with some light silver trim. Not dissimilar to all of the other Samurai and Ronin that adopted the Sentai name. His visor glowed, and Susan imagined that he was observing the attack even now. There was no question that Hex Kagome could see everything through his own interface. Susan reached down to the smooth wooden surface of the table and his fingers found a hair-thin crack that opened as he swiped past it. There was a jack within, one that he pulled out and carefully slotted into a corresponding connection near his temple. His augs warmed, and his vision was overtaken by visuals from their surveillance drone nearer to Phobos. In the time it took to blink, he was in space. The change made his stomach twist--he had never been good about vertigo--but he didn''t allow any of that to show. Soon enough he grew used to the fixed position. He could turn his head to see more, but even then the angle was somewhat limited, as though he were standing before a large bay window. A green circle appeared on his heads up display, then a red one. The green over the location of the Big Gun''s first shot, the red over the distant speck that was Phobos. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. "Time?" he asked. "The projectile is approaching quickly," Hex Kagome said. "Under a minute until impact." The voice had come from right next to Susan, as though the ninja were standing over his shoulder. "So, we have a minute to chat, is what you''re saying, nya?" Nya said from over the other shoulder. Susan closed his eyes, for what little good that did. "Please don''t start," he said. "Why ny-ot?" she asked. "Because I can only endure you so much," he replied, and it was the honest truth. He''d been forced to be in the same room as the cat-woman for hours already. The sad truth was that Nya was one of the better, older, and more dangerous Ronin in the Keiretsu, one of those just barely too weak to be around Mars at the moment, and until their elites returned, she had some amount of influence. She was still a thorn in his side, but that was an issue of clashing personalities, not incompetence. "Nya nya nya!~" she sing-songed right in his ear. He sighed. "Brain-rot generation," he grumbled under his breath, but not so low that she wouldn''t hear. It set her off laughing. "It''s starting," Sentai Blue said. Susan refocused in time to see a small spark of an explosion within the centre of the green circle. "Did... it get intercepted?" he asked. "No," Hex Kogame said. "Look." A sub-screen popped up before him, a zoomed in section of Phobos that was even now roiling and expanding as the surface exploded outwards. "What was that?" Nya asked. "A Casaba-Howitzer. A nuclear explosion used to propel a plasma projectile forwards at ridiculous speeds," Hex reported. The explosion continued to spread across the close-side of Phobos. It was impressive... but less so than any one of the nuclear strikes they''d landed with their kamikaze drones. "It''s penetrative," he said. Hex chuckled. "It should be." Telemetry and early scans returned, and the AI currently controlling what they were seeing ran the numbers and showed them a timelapse of the seconds before and after impact. "Hmm," Susan said. The moon''s shaking actually served as a decent way to get a better picture of what was happening beneath the surface, and what was happening was impressive. The plasma from the Big Gun''s shot had pierced through the outer crust of the moon and wedged itself deep within. It had run out of energy eventually, but not before leaving cracks in every direction, like putting a bullet through a glass pane. "Overall damage?" Susan asked. It was an impressive strike, deeper than any of theirs, but... "Light," Hex said. "Localised. It''s a needle in the kidney where what we did was like a dozen strikes to the chest. It''s more internal damage than what we did, but it won''t take the moon out yet." "Hey, our friends are helping. Maybe that new cat girl''s just testing her claws, nya?" Susan sighed, then reached up and pulled the jack away from his temple. He blinked a few times as his vision cleared and he was seeing the room as it was once more. "We''ll be trading blows with Phobos for some time, I suspect." Nya blinked back to the present as well, then gave him one of her ever-irritating grins. "Like playing with a mouse, no?" "Less a mouse and more an angry dragon," he said. "We''re projecting a victory, destroying Phobos long before it arrives on Earth, but that''s assuming that we continue to ramp up our production and our assault. Let''s not fall into complacency." "Mhm, mhm!" Nya agreed. "More importantly, I wanna go see my fellow cat! Do you need anyone to meet with the Big Gun crew face-to-face?" "No," he said. "Are you suuuuure? Nya?" she asked. This time while flopping down onto the table and half-rotating around with her arms outstretched. Sentai Blue carefully moved his tea out of knocking range. "I''m positive," he said. Though... now that he thought about it, that would get her out of his hair... and hearing... "Actually, perhaps something could be arranged after all." *** Glossary: Model Eleven Model Eleven?

Enemy Classification: / / Elimination Reward: 100 Points Model Description: The Model Eleven resembles a colossal bird, drawing comparisons to prehistoric pterodactyls but on a much larger scale. Its body is covered with scales, and it possesses a large, beak-like mouth filled with sharp teeth. The model is designed for both carrying biological matter and offensive capabilities. This model boasts multiple stomachs, enabling it to transport substantial mass, including smaller models such as the Model Ones, which can attach to its body. Equipped with formidable claws and exceptional vision, the Model Eleven dominates from the skies, serving as both a biological carrier and a heavy assault unit on the battlefield. Artist Depiction of a Model Eleven?

Threat Analysis Report: Model Eleven Threat Rating: High Overview Model Eleven serves dual roles within the Antithesis forces: as a key aerial transporter and as a formidable combatant. Its ability to carry numerous smaller units across great distances and deploy them with precision makes it an invaluable asset for strategic operations. Threat Capabilities Mass Transport: Capable of carrying entire squads of smaller models within its expansive belly, Model Elevens can quickly change the dynamics on the ground by deploying forces where they are most needed. Combat Proficiency: Apart from its transport capabilities, Model Elevens can engage in combat using their large beak and claws, making them a threat to both ground and air targets. Enhanced Surveillance: With their superior vision, Model Elevens can relay critical battlefield information back to the hive, directing more localised forces effectively. Survivability and Adaptability: Their scaled body provides significant protection against small arms fire, though it may be vulnerable to heavier weaponry. Strategic Threat Assessment Containment Difficulty: High. Due to its size and flight capabilities, engaging a Model Eleven requires specialised equipment and tactics. Military and Civilian Risk: Very High. Their ability to transport and deploy Antithesis units deep within human territory, coupled with their own combat capabilities, poses a significant threat to both military and civilian targets. Potential for Expansion: High. Model Elevens enhance the mobility and flexibility of Antithesis forces, significantly contributing to their operational reach and effectiveness. Mitigation Strategies Anti-Aircraft Tactics: Deployment of surface-to-air missiles and other anti-aircraft systems to counteract Model Eleven air superiority. Interception Protocols: Use of fighter aircraft to engage Model Elevens before they can enter sensitive airspace. Surveillance and Tracking: Enhanced radar and satellite tracking to monitor Model Eleven movements and predict potential drop zones. Research and Development: Study of its flight and combat mechanics to develop countermeasures that exploit potential weaknesses in its design. Conclusion The Model Eleven is a critical component of the Antithesis air capabilities, combining heavy assault potential with strategic transport capacity. Effective containment and neutralisation strategies are essential to limit their impact on battlefield engagements. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Addendum M11-1: Transcript of Biological Analysis by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Subject: Model Eleven Physiological Study Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Recording now. We''re delving into the biological intricacies of Model Eleven today. This creature, though reminiscent of ancient Earth''s pterosaurs, shows remarkable evolutionary adaptations. The scales covering its body are not just armour but part of a complex thermoregulatory system, crucial for maintaining its massive body temperature during extended flights. Their wings are... neat? They look leathery at first glace, but on closer inspection they''re covered in fine scales that are shaped like elongated teardrops. Almost like feathers but not quite. These feather-scales are soft and somewhat pliable." [Sound of pages turning] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Its visual acuity is extraordinary. The eyes are positioned to maximise a nearly panoramic view, essential for navigation and spotting threats or targets from high altitudes. This visual capability, combined with its large beak lined with teeth, suggests a predatory design optimised for both surveillance and combat." [Pause as she observes more data] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Cutting into the softer stomach now... Ah, wow, that''s a lof of juices. Thank fuck for PPE. Uh, let''s see... the multiple stomachs are a fascinating adaptation. It allows Model Eleven to carry various payloads, including smaller Antithesis models. The stomachs lead directly to a sort of... two way coclea? I''m going to let someone else name this one." [Recording cuts off for several minutes] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "In conclusion, while its physical prowess is undeniable, understanding the biological functions of Model Eleven could provide us with key insights into the operational logistics of the entire Antithesis hive. Further studies on its digestive and sensory systems could reveal vulnerabilities not immediately apparent through combat engagements alone. And also I need more budget for a forklift or something if you guys keep wanting me to work on bigger aliens." End of Transcript.

Addendum M11-2: Known colloquially among troops as: - Sky Titan - Pterodactyl - Winged Leviathan - Beast of Burden - Birb - Big birbo

Addendum M11-3: Research on Pheromone Communication Ongoing studies into the pheromone communication system of Model Eleven have shown that it can emit complex chemical signals during flight, potentially coordinating the actions of ground units in real-time. Disrupting these signals could impair the tactical efficiency of Antithesis forces, offering a new avenue for countermeasures.

Addendum M11-4: Ecological Impact Report An ecological impact study has been initiated to assess the consequences of Model Eleven''s activities on local wildlife and ecosystems. Preliminary findings suggest that the disruption caused by its large-scale movements and the chemical traces left by its spores and pheromones significantly alter local flora and fauna, leading to shifts in ecological balances that could have long-term effects. Fortunately, Model Elevens are relatively uncommon in newer, less developed hives.

Addendum M11-5: Tactical Deployment Observations Field observations have documented instances where Model Elevens have been used to strategically drop smaller models into conflict zones, acting not just as transport but also as first-strike assault units. Analysing these deployment patterns has provided crucial intelligence on Antithesis attack strategies, guiding the development of targeted defence measures against aerial assaults. Chapter Forty-Nine - Im Cat and You Are Watching Deep Space Ballistics! Chapter Forty-Nine - I''m Cat and You Are Watching Deep Space Ballistics! "Today, we''re going to see how these watermelons fare against this discarded samurai railgun we found by the Ohio incursion zone! Stay tuned!" --Youtube video transcript, 2032 *** The bomb went off, then, in less time than it took for two neurons to connect, the projectile it launched was ramming into Phobos'' surface. "Fuck yeah!" I cheered as we got a big-screen view of the strike. Tankette had brought her tank around and installed a little projector on it. Major Tinwhistle had found a large white tarp and had it strung up between two cranes. Sure, this was probably the kind of shit that ought to be classified or something, but it felt wrong not to have the entire group witness the fruits of their labour. Engineers were whistling, workers were cheering. Someone had broken open a case of beer and they were being passed around. Another had set up a bar-b-que and cheap hot dogs were being roasted. It made the entire place feel like a party. It was deserved. These guys and gals had spent hours working on the Big Gun. Without them, this moment wouldn''t be happening. It was a rush job, done with no time to spare. I looked around and saw plenty of baggy eyes and slumped shoulders. These people were exhausted, but they were also happy for the moment. Proud, at least. I turned my attention back to the projection. Our strike was creating a moving wall of dust and debris away from the point of impact. A small stud of a mushroom that was slowly expanding against whatever gravity Phobos had going for it. The spots where the Keiretsu nukes had hit had taken hours to clear out, and they''d left a few massive craters behind. I had to wonder what our hit had done... but not for long, because the screen split and the right side was replaced by a 3D diagram of the moon''s surface. Lots of numbers were thrown up on screen, but it didn''t take a geologist to see the spiralling cracks moving away from the point of impact, or the way our shot had dug a hole right into the moon. "What''s that bit?" I asked as I pointed up to where it looked like there was a second explosion way deeper in the crust. I was surrounded by most of the other samurai in our group, but it was Major Tinwhistle that answered. "Spalling," she said. Let me draw up some pathing predictions. New lines appeared, showing where the chunks blown out of the back of the crust would have gone. "The moon''s surface is tough, like a shell, but the interior is likely all antithesis, with tunnels and structures dug into the moon, but also large roots and veins and arteries as well as organ-like structures within the moon," Grasshopper said. "We''ve likely done more damage with our one strike than the previous wave of drones managed to accomplish." "Damn," I said. I was feeling a bit of that pride too. It looked like we''d done the equivalent of popping the alien with a small-calibre bullet that broke up inside of them. Having shot a few bigger aliens with small arms in my day, I knew that it wasn''t nearly enough to bring one down. But it was damage. Then the diagram view zoomed way, way out, and I got to see the sheer size of Phobos compared to the tiny pinprick we''d stabbed into the moon''s side before the image winked out. "We shot an elephant with a bb," Hedgehog said. "And next we''ll see if we can''t poke a match into the elephant''s hide," Gomorrah said. "And if that doesn''t do it, we''ll try something else." "She''s right," I said. "Our job isn''t to finish the job, I guess. It''s to keep poking holes, ripping bits off, and slicing off chunks of the moon." "The predictions are still in our favour?" he asked. I shrugged, but Grasshopper confirmed it to me a moment later with a serious nod. "Seems like it." Hedgehog seemed a little restless. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot without ever standing still. "Fine. We need to set up a watch rotation on the Big Gun. And we need to set up a continued escort with the rest of the army. People will be asking questions soon, about why the advance has stalled." "Yeah. I bet that even with everything we''ve done, there will still be leaks," I said. "It makes sense to keep a watch going. One or two of us here at all times?" Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. "Two is better," he said. "Some... would consider trying something against a single samurai. Any one of us could be distracted. But two? That''s a much bigger ask." "So, who''s available for the watch, then?" I asked. "I can stay tonight," Tankette replied. "I can as well," Hedgehog said. "Don''t have anything to return to right now, so I might as well." "I''ll be staying for a few more hours," Grasshopper said. "I can set out a small camp. I have a camping supplies catalogue with all sorts of goodies! You''ll feel right at home!" Major Tinwhistle looked between the lot of us, then shrugged. "I need to get my men moving by morning. But the brass will want to guard this site too. This is a Canadian Army site now, which means that we''re going to have corporate rats sticking their necks in any moment now." "We can probably warn them off," I said. "Maybe have an aug pop-up letting people who come close enough know that this is an area under samurai surveillance." "That might just encourage them," Tinwhistle said. "You''ll be letting them know that there''s something worth investigating." "I guess, yeah," I said. "But if information leaks, then isn''t it too late?" Gomorrah cleared her throat. "If that''s the case, then we need a distraction. Something plausible. Maybe even something you can build near our site that''ll leak on purpose and which will make the army and us look bad." "You wanna make us look bad?" I asked. "Just to make the attempts to hide what we have more plausible," Gomorrah said. Major Tinwhistle nodded. "It''ll have to fit with the equipment we brought over. Maybe... a mass grave? Those always piss off the media." That sounded properly messed up. "Okay," I said. "I guess... dedicate a shift to dig what looks like a mass grave. That''ll be our cover story. Do we need to go deeper? Make up reasons for it?" "No," Gomorrah said. "If we don''t have a ready excuse, then those investigating the site will have to do the research themselves, and it''ll lead them nowhere." "Okay," I said. I really wasn''t cut out for this kind of game of deception. "Can I leave that up to you, then?" I asked both women. Gomorrah and the Major both nodded. "Will you be staying overnight too?" "Not if I can avoid it. I wouldn''t mind coming in first thing in the morning. What about you? First thing in the morning in Catherine time is... around noon?" "I mean... yeah," I admitted. I glanced up. It was well past the early evening right now. All of the various attacks we''d launched at Phobos had been nearly an hour apart from each other. The next squeeze from the Collider would probably be in three or so hours, and I bet there were more drones on the way. Our own next strike was only minutes away too. "So, we''re gonna set a clock and fire the Big Gun every time it''s off cooldown?" "It''s not very hard to automate, everything is there for that already," Grasshopper said. "I just wanted to make sure that first shot was special." "Heh, alright," I said. I stretched, then looked over the crowd. The party was well underway now. It seemed like all of the tension had drained out of the group and they were celebrating as best they could. Major Tinwhistle was making a concerted effort not to notice the alcohol, or the lingering smell of weed in the air. "Well, in that case, I think I''ll be heading back out." Grasshopper giggled. "You might want to catch up to young Miss Raccoon quickly, then," she said. I blinked, then looked around again. Wait, where was Rac? For that matter, where was that little Frenchman? One moment... I have discovered your companions'' location. They''re right over here. Myalis painted a marker on my vision, one that led quite a ways away from the centre of the camp next to the Big Gun and closer to some of the big machines. I stomped my way over. If that kid was hurting Rac, I''d smack him around, Samurai or no. Fortunately, as I approached, my ears twitched and I made out the sound of giggling. Rac''s giggling. When I came around the corner, I half expected to find something inappropriate going on, but they were just sitting next to each other on the tracks of a bulldozer, both with a glass bottle in hand. "Oh, hey," I said. Well, shit, way to make myself feel awkward. *** Chapter Fifty - Trash Panda Pondering Chapter Fifty - Trash Panda Pondering "You must choose one. Cut the general working''s salary. Or cut the security force''s salary. You absolutely cannot do both." --Lessons in Human Resources, Fifth Edition, 2038 *** The ride back home, with Rac clinging to me from behind as I rode my bike across the skies, was about as awkward as I expected it to be. Probably more for me than for her, to be fair. She hadn''t done anything weird, just hung out with a boy close to her age. Maybe I was reading too much into it. It wasn''t like I was her mom or anything. She could do what she wanted. I was pretty sure Gros Baton was like... seventeen-ish, so there wasn''t anything too weird there. He was definitely a better friend to make than the gang she''d been riding with recently. Well, I guess mercs weren''t a gang, but Garter and his little buddies were bad influences. A bunch of samurai were probably much better people to hang out with. Probably. Samurai at least had the benefit of the Protector AI picking them out as ''good enough'' folk. But I might have been a little biased there. We swooped in towards the only building with a giant cat topping it off, and I brought my bike down for a gentle landing before the doorway. I could have gone into the parking garage, but the weather was actually kinda dry, for once, and I was too damned lazy to slow down fully and slip in. Plus, this spot was more fun to leave from in the morning. "Alright, off off," I said. Rac needed to hop off before I could swing my leg up and over. I bounced on the spot for a moment, then glanced over to Rac who was staring at me, hands in her pockets. "What?" I asked. "It feels like you wanna say something," she said. "No?" I tried. Her eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I''m pretty sure," I said. "So, uh, let''s go in? Unless you''re heading out again?" She looked up. The sky was that deep bluish colour that came when all the nightly ads came on, with a few spots of purple and orange where some bigger signs caught the lower hanging clouds. "Nah. It''s late. I might load up the printer again. Uh, I''m running out of materials for it." "Ah, yeah, that''ll happen. I kinda put that out of my mind, what with Phobos and all." "Right. The end of the world is more important than that," she said before shifting. "Kinda weird that we have to worry about that." "Heh, yeah, you tell me. You know, when I became a samurai, I thought I''d mostly be worrying about smallfry issues. A few aliens here and there, maybe a big hive to blow up. But mostly I expected to have to take care of me and mine and maybe the neighbourhood. This is... bigger." "I get that," Rac said. She scratched at the back of her neck. "I wasn''t expecting to live much longer, you know? There''s only so long you can go, scrounging in the undercity. I had a good run at it, but you can only be so lucky. Never expected to be where I am now." "Hmm, yeah," I said. "Uh... maybe we can do something to help others? Other Racoons out there, I mean. Not now-now, but it''d be nice. Once we have things settled. We can set something up. But first, you know, the world." "Save the world, worry about the little people after?" she asked. "Pretty much, yeah. Come on, I''m starving." I tapped her on the shoulder, then walked on home. The moment I was indoors I shucked off my helmet and tossed it onto the couch, then I flung my coat over the back of a chair that was supposed to be in the kitchen. I wasn''t just going to leave my guns anywhere, though. I wasn''t that irresponsible. If I left them out, or my sword, there was a one hundred percent chance I''d be woken up by some Kitten crying because they shot themselves in the foot. I took a deep breath, then sniffed the air some more. Something smelled nice. "Cat!" Lucy said as she popped out of the kitchen. She ran over and crashed into me with a big hug. I hugged back, of course, squeezing her closer and pressing my face against the top of her head. "Hi," I said. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. "Hi," she replied as she pulled her head back and craned her neck out to meet me in a kiss. "Mmm, good day saving the world?" "Pretty good, yeah," I said. "I''ll show you the footage later. We fired the Big Gun, it was pretty cool." "Oh, I bet!" "Maybe I''ll have you come over? I don''t think there are any rules about who can press the big red button." "Is there actually a big red button?" "It has a little plastic cover and a bunch of flicky switches and everything," I said. "I don''t even know what they do, but it''s kinda awesome." Lucy giggled, then pulled out of the hug fully, but not before grabbing my hand. "I made supper!" "Oh?" I asked as I allowed her to drag me along. "What''d you make?" "An entire chicken! Then I had to make another because someone wasn''t showing up and the kittens got into my first chicken and they... kinda messed it up. But it''s okay, the second one turned out better than the first, I think. There''s still half left!" I blinked as I tried to follow along with that. "Where did you even find a chicken?" "Well, I didn''t hunt it myself, did I?" she asked. "I bought it, Cat. You can do that, buy raw, whole chickens. They come in a bag." "Huh," I said. I supposed that was possible. The only chickens I''d ever seen were either wings, fried breasts, or in the shape of little dinosaurs. Not that I didn''t know what a chicken looked like. There were plenty of chicken logos around and stuff, and like... movies had them sometimes. Just, I''d never seen a live one, or a whole cooked one. Lucy let go of me to proudly gesture at what was sitting on the kitchen island. There was, indeed, a whole chicken there, in a glass pan filled with some sort of greasy brown sauce and chunks of... something. "What are those?" I asked. "Veggies," she said. "They''re good for you." I wasn''t in the habit of eating vegetables, and I wasn''t sure I was ready to start. But on closer inspection it was mostly diced potatoes and maybe carrots, all baked in some sort of sauce. It did smell real good, and there was still a bit of steam rising off the top. "Well shit, grab me a plate and some knives," I said. "I''m about to do a number on this bird." Lucy grinned, then turned to Rac. "Want some too? It''s good, I swear. I''ve been getting better." "I don''t refuse free food," Rac said reasonably. I started to cut into the juicier, less bony parts of the chicken until Lucy saw what I was doing and stole my knife and fork from me. Apparently I was doing it wrong or something, but the end result was being served a hefty chunk of meat and so I wasn''t about to complain. "You know, you really make saving the world worth it," I said. Lucy smiled. "That would be far more romantic if you spoke after you finished chewing, Cat." I smiled back, then made a point of swallowing. "It''s because it tastes so good?" "Nice try, but no. Oh, and by the way, we need some upgrades for the kitchen," Lucy said. "We do?" I asked. The kitchen looked fine to me. Fine-ish. It was a little messy, but I was sure Lucy could bully some of the kids into doing a half-assed job of cleaning it. "What''s wrong with it?" "The oven is a mess inside." "So clean it out?" I tried. "Fuck that, I''d rather buy a new one." I shrugged. "Okay." God, it was nice being stupid-rich. Lucy seemed to agree, because she looked extra smug for a moment. "Alright! Well, if that''s the case... I think I''m ready to explore baking. Let''s see if I can''t make a cake." "Your cake is fantastic already," I said. "What did I just say about flirting with your mouth full, Cat?" "I had a long day?" "I don''t know how that excuses you," she said. "Well, whatever. So, tell me about your day. Spill that juicy gossip, because I''ve been starving for it over here." "Oh, I have some good stuff to spill," I said. "So, what do you know about international samurai and their weirdness?" *** Chapter Fifty-One - Adamantium Toenails Chapter Fifty-One - Adamantium Toenails "Sassy? No, my AI is nice and polite? He''s like an old-timey butler. What? No, my AI is like a little sister I''ve never had. What do you mean a butler and little sister? Mine gives me shit all the time!" --Overheard conversation between three Samurai, 2025 *** I woke up to a kick. It was weird, because I''d once been pretty used to waking up to kicks, but I hadn''t felt one in a while. Lucy''s deteriorating condition often led to weird twitches. She said they hurt when she was awake but she didn''t feel them while sleeping. Instead, I was the one to feel them as she rammed her sharp little toe-nails into my shins and calves. It had been a while, though. Maybe the kicking wasn''t medical at all and Lucy was just lying to cover up her habit of moving in her sleep? We used to sleep in the tiny, narrow beds at the orphanage. They were only barely large enough for one adult, so any movement was hard to miss. I grumbled as I came awake and turned around. Blinking, I made out Lucy''s form in the dark with my cybernetic eye. She was sleeping at a forty-five degree angle across the bed. Blankets thrown off her upper body and face drooling into a pillow she was hugging. I grinned. She looked like absolute crap, which is why I took a picture and sent it to her. It would be a surprise when she woke up and checked her messages. Reaching down, I rubbed at my calf where she''d dug her nails in. "Dammit, Lucy," I muttered. She''d never drawn blood, but I swore it was a near thing. I checked the time and was horrified to discover that it was only eight in the morning. Holy crap, I was waking up at a reasonable time? I wasn''t even tired enough to fall back asleep. I rubbed at my face, then popped open my media feeds for a quick scroll-through. Lucy and I had been using the same old app for like, ten years now. It was a free version of an aggregator for various media accounts. It picked the juiciest gossip, news, propaganda, and advertising and shoved it all into one stream of easy-to-scroll slop. These kinds of aggregators usually had a monthly subscription fee, or you had to endure ads every so often, but this one was a beta version Lucy had found on some sketchy site that was a hundred generations behind. As long as we didn''t update it, we were fine. It was a right pain in the ass to stop it from updating though, but I''d long ago gotten into the habit of opening it through my augs, closing the update prompt, then opening the downloader that downloaded the next update and shutting that down manually. Still faster than looking at a single video ad. The news this morning was the usual. Political scandals, corporate scandals, celebrity drama. I watched a video of a cat pushing a brick off the side of a building where it landed on some pedestrian''s head. I''d seen that same video ten years ago, but the damned thing was reposted like clockwork. Some of the reposts were older than me, posted over and over again by attention-farming bots. I was ten minutes into the mindless scrolling when I passed some news about a few Brazilian samurai who''d blown up some statue or something that had been turned into a nest. They''d replaced it but the locals weren''t happy with the new one. My attention wandered to the corner of my vision. I had the time displayed up there, and under that, Myalis was keeping my point tally up. "Holy fuck!" I bounced out of the bed, suddenly on my feet as a shock of adrenaline zipped through me. I was expecting this reaction, and yet it''s still amusing to see. "Myalis, what the fuck?" I asked. I had forty thousand points banked. Forty-K and change, but at that number the chump change didn''t matter as much. The earnings are from the Big Gun''s shots taken over night. In the last ten hours the gun has fired eleven times. I can get you a full breakdown of the points earned, but for the most part it comes from killing a small number of higher-tier antithesis. The value was, of course, split unevenly amongst the Vanguard participating in the project, with major deductions for the distance between said Vanguard and the actual successful eliminations. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "That''s a ridiculous number of points, still." I said. It''s what you earned. I scratched my neck. "What I earned my ass," I muttered. I''d sweat blood and tears to make a tenth as many points before. And now I''d earned this many while sleeping. Is this how rich people felt? Fuck, the game really was rigged. "Cat? What''s going on?" Lucy asked. "Huh, oh, sorry I didn''t mean to wake you," I said. "You can go back to sleep." Lucy yawned wide. "What''s wrong?" "Technically, nothing." "Technically?" she repeated. She was fully awake now. Though she was still hugging her drool pillow. How often were we supposed to change bed sheets and pillowcases and shit like that? Once a month or so? "The Big Gun''s been firing all night, and since I helped build a bit of it, I''m... I guess entitled to a percent of the points it makes killing aliens," I said as I sat back down on the edge of the bed. "And I just woke up to a fuckload more points than I had last night." "Oh... isn''t that a good thing?" "I guess? Yeah, I mean, it''s definitely a good thing. No doubt about it." I shrugged. "I just don''t know what to do with all that. It''s too much." "Aww, you don''t need to feel pressured to spend it," Lucy said. "You can earmark a chunk as savings, and then pour the rest into your projects?" "My projects?" I asked. "Well, you''ve been spending less time on your new mechanics hobby. Maybe you can buy a garage that''s got better tools and such. There''s the printer, it''s really good, but I think it''s maybe too slow for everything we''re loading it with. I think we wanted to make the house safer too?" "Right," I said. She wasn''t wrong. "And my gear could use an upgrade overall," I muttered. Do keep in mind that your current windfall won''t last forever. Once Phobos is eliminated the current influx of points will stop. Right, that was another good point. I hadn''t checked on the status of the moon. For all I knew the thing was riddled with holes and all the big aliens on it were long dead. I kinda doubted it, but it wasn''t impossible. "Urgh, I think I have a shift watching over the Big Gun. I can''t remember when it was, but I think I''m supposed to show up around noon." Lucy shifted in bed, then stretched. The blankets slid down, exposing some of her stomach that wasn''t covered by her silky PJs. "That''s hours away, you know?" "Uh-huh," I said. "I''m sure I could tempt you to spend that time well," she said. "Uh-huh." "By eating a proper breakfast for once." Lucy kipped up, or tried, she ended up mostly flopping around very unsexily until she rolled off the far end of the bed. "I wanna make this egg recipe I saw last night! Eggs benedict! They look really good." I pouted, but I was rather hungry. "Urgh, fine," I said. Lucy laughed at my plight, at least until I ran up behind her and caught her by the hips. Her laugh turned into a squeal, but she wasn''t leaving this room before I had time to kiss her silly. A few minutes later, Lucy was off to try some more experimental stuff in the kitchen and I hopped into the shower. "Myalis," I said as I rubbed shampoo over my scalp under a sheet of warm water. Yes, Catherine? "I need a few good ideas on what to spend those points on. I''m thinking it''s time for a few upgrades. Not physical stuff, though." The skin change had been pretty big already, and the new hair too. Anything more was probably pushing it for the moment. I''m certain I can think of a few options. You might want to revisit your catalogue list. They''re generally an expensive but worthwhile long-term investment. "Because I can buy more kinds of shit with them?" I asked. I wouldn''t use such faecal terminology, but essentially, yes. They widen the breadth of items you can purchase. That only makes you more capable and flexible, and overlapping catalogues do reduce the cost of some items. That was an idea. I had a few of those tokens sitting around too. Maybe dipping into the higher tier catalogues wasn''t a bad move either. "Alright," I said as I shut the shower off. "Yeah. I think that I can work with that. List away, Myalis." *** Glossary: Model Twelve Glossary: Model Twelve Model Twelve?

Enemy Classification: / / Elimination Reward: 100 Points Model Description: The Model Twelve is an imposing figure on the battlefield, resembling a grotesque, oversized bumblebee with a bus-sized frame. It is equipped with six legs and functional wings, allowing for substantial mobility despite its size. The most distinctive feature of Model Twelve is its large rear section, which houses an advanced organic electronic countermeasures (O-ECM) system. This system is capable of disrupting electronic targeting and sensor equipment directed at it, making it a critical asset in Antithesis operations. Additionally, its carapace can carry smaller models, facilitating rapid deployment of forces across the battlefield. Artist Depiction of a Model Twelve?

Threat Analysis Report: Model Twelve Threat Rating: High Overview Model Twelve combines heavy transport capabilities with electronic warfare, disrupting communications and sensor systems while deploying Antithesis units directly into combat zones. Its ability to interfere with electronic equipment makes it a priority target in engagements. Threat Capabilities Electronic Countermeasures: The organic ECM system in its rear can jam radar, communications, and other electronic sensors, effectively blinding and confusing ground forces at critical moments. Mobility: Despite its size, the Model Twelve is surprisingly lightweight and agile, capable of quick aerial manoeuvres thanks to its robust wings. Troop Transport: Can carry and deploy multiple smaller models, enhancing the hive''s ability to project force and respond to threats rapidly. Survivability: Its size and mobility make it a challenging target, while the ECM capabilities reduce the effectiveness of guided weapons against it. Strategic Threat Assessment Containment Difficulty: High. The combination of electronic warfare capabilities and physical size requires specialised tactics and equipment to effectively counter. Military and Civilian Risk: Very High. Its role in disrupting communications can lead to significant operational failures, endangering both military personnel and civilian infrastructure. Potential for Expansion: Medium. While primarily a support unit, its ability to deploy troops and disrupt enemy systems indirectly facilitates Antithesis territorial expansion. Mitigation Strategies Electronic Hardening: Equip units with hardened electronics and counter-ECM technologies to mitigate the disruptive effects of Model Twelves. Anti-Aircraft Tactics: Deployment of rapid-response anti-aircraft systems that do not rely solely on electronics for targeting. Coordinated Assaults: Use coordinated, multi-angle attacks to exploit brief windows when ECM is less effective. Research and Development: Study captured specimens to understand and potentially replicate its ECM technology for human use. Conclusion The Model Twelve is a formidable asset in the Antithesis arsenal, combining transport, combat support, and electronic warfare into a single, highly effective unit. Neutralising this threat requires a combination of advanced electronic countermeasures and robust physical attacks.

Addendum M12-1: Field Incident Report Date: [Redacted] Details: An engagement involving Model Twelve resulted in temporary disorientation and communication breakdown among ground forces, directly contributing to a tactical withdrawal. The incident highlights the need for improved ECM training and the deployment of counter-ECM equipment in field units. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Our troops were trained in high-communications environments. They are not prepared or equipped for situations where strat-com is offline.

Addendum M12-2: Known colloquially among troops as: - Buzzers - Flying Fortress - Blackout Bee - ECM Hornet - Bumbles

Addendum M12-3: Research Analysis by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Subject: Biological ECM Mechanisms of Model Twelve Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Recording now. Today, we''re diving deep into the unique ECM capabilities of the Model Twelve. Apparently. Look, it''s not that I doubt the field reports, but ECM is complicated. There''s not one type. Fooling IR sensors isn''t the same as spoofing radar, and it sure as shit isn''t the same as deceiving lasers. I find it hard to believe that an organic thing can fool one kind of sensor system, let along all of them. I''m getting ahead of myself. The ''ECM organ,'' located in its large rear, appears to generate a complex field of electromagnetic noise through a series of rapid biochemical reactions." [Sound of lab instruments] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Initial dissections revealed multiple glands that secrete specialised compounds. I don''t know what these are, sending them to the lab. It looks like these compounds react with the air to produce ionized particles, which are then expelled to create interference patterns. Annnd my augs shut down again. I hate working on this thing." [Pause for note-taking] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "The implications for both military and civilian technologies are profound. Understanding these biological processes could lead to advancements in organic-based ECM systems, potentially offering new methods to shield sensitive information from electronic surveillance. Speaking more forthrightly, I have no idea how this works. By all means, it shouldn''t. This is pushing what I believe organic chemistry can do to the limit and beyond, and yet it''s doing it despite my reservations." [Recording ends] End of Transcript.

Addendum M12-4: Corporate Interest from TechCor Dynamics Date: [Redacted] Communication: "To Whom It May Concern, TechCor Dynamics has been following the developments surrounding the Antithesis Model Twelve with great interest, particularly its biological ECM capabilities. As a leader in defence technology solutions, we believe there is significant potential to adapt these organic ECM mechanisms into our existing frameworks. This could revolutionise not only military defence systems but also provide robust anti-surveillance technology for private sector applications. We are interested in collaborating on research efforts to further understand and possibly synthesise these biological components for broader use. Best regards, [Signature], Head of R&D, TechCor Dynamics" Note: Refuse all advances from the corporate sector into research and development of O-ECM. The public cannot have access to systems that interfere so much with our surveillance network.

Addendum M12-5: Tactical Review Meeting Date: [Redacted] Summary: During a high-level tactical review, discussions centred on encounters with Model Twelves highlighted the urgent need for improved ECM training for troops. The meeting concluded with directives to incorporate simulated ECM attacks in regular drills to better prepare forces for the disorienting effects experienced in the field. Additionally, the development of portable counter-ECM devices was prioritised to provide ground units with immediate response capabilities against Model Twelve engagements.

Addendum M12-6: Environmental Impact Study A preliminary environmental impact study has been initiated to assess the ecological effects of the electromagnetic emissions from Model Twelve. Concerns have been raised about the potential disruption to wildlife, particularly migratory birds and marine life sensitive to electromagnetic fields. The study aims to determine the extent of these impacts and develop strategies to mitigate adverse effects on local ecosystems. Chapter Fifty-Two - Fingerguns Chapter Fifty-Two - Fingerguns "A Joytoy is a member of the lower to middle class who participates in the personal entertainment industry. They provide companionship and sexual gratification to playing clients. The modern Joytoy is often equipped with a range of cybernetic enhancements for their personal protection (C-IUDs, Bloodcheckers, STI-removal Biogear, ect) as well as personal enhancements to better serve their customers." --Commodification and U - A Guide to Bringing Joy and Earning Credits, 2047 *** "How many tokens do I have?" I asked. Somehow I ended up sitting on the edge of the bed again. Sure, I''d slept a good bit, but I was still a little tired, and standing around while talking to Myalis was always kind of awkward. She was something of a voice in my head. There wasn''t any way to interact with her directly, not like when talking to a person face-to-face, and even on a call with someone, I''d at least have a phone in hand, or a screen open on my augs. With Myalis I had neither. Most of the time that was fine. It wasn''t like I needed to see her or whatever. But it did make things a little awkward when I wasn''t moving around or doing anything. You currently have four tokens saved up. I nodded along. That sounded about right. I didn''t track those nearly as closely as I did my points, and even my points were... mostly being accumulated off to the side now. "Four tokens, huh? So that''s four class two catalogues? How much does class three cost?" A class three catalogue would cost you three tokens. You could afford a single one at the moment. Speaking plainly, you have the choice between widening your spread of abilities and owned catalogues, or pushing one of your current catalogues up a tier which would help you hyper-specialise in one area. I nodded along. "Yeah, I get that," I said. "So, oh wise Myalis of my brain, what do you recommend?" I see three options before you. The first is as I mentioned, spend some number of points unlocking a number of new catalogues, then push these up a class with your current tokens. This option would widen the breadth of abilities and items at your disposal. "Go on," I said. The next two options are similar to each other. Either focus on your Esoteric weapons specialisation, or on your Sunwatcher Technologies, elevating either to class three. At that level, both options would give you incredible abilities when it comes to handling higher-tier threats. "How high are we talking, here?" I asked. The correlation isn''t exact. "What''s that mean?" I asked as I leaned back. Most Antithesis you''re likely to see within your lifespan can be defeated with equipment purchased from class one catalogues. The greater the class of the catalogue, the further from humanity''s technological base the items are, but that does not mean that near-human technology cannot defeat the enemy. "Right, okay," I said. It was like... anyone could die by being shot by a shitty handgun. Some things made that harder, body armour and the like, but that didn''t prevent that same gun from being dangerous. Higher classes of catalogues were like... upgrading from a dinky pistol to something bigger. It helped, but it didn''t mean that it was entirely necessary. "So, why those two catalogues? I mean, besides the fact that I''ve invested in both already." They''re both catalogues that fit your current preferences in terms of combat and lifestyle. Your Esoteric Explosives catalogue provides most of the equipment that has been allowing you to punch above your weight-class, and the Sunwatch Technologies catalogue has been providing you with most of your weaponry, armour, and other equipment. Right, so it was a three-way choice between going wide, going all-in on offence, or continuing with a pretty large set of very thematic equipment that covered a lot of bases. I flopped back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling for a bit. "Okay," I said. "I think... logically, Sunwatcher Technologies feels like the right choice. It''s got a lot of prosthetics, it''s got armour, it''s got weapons. My mech''s mostly from there, yeah? So if I wanna upgrade that, then it''s the way to go." Indeed. "But!" I said. "But... that''s not what would be the most useful right now." That went to the Esoteric Explosives catalogue, hands down. Explosives were what we were chucking at Phobos from the Big gun, and I''d left a dozen rounds behind of a few different flavours to see what worked. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. A higher class of that catalogue would mean more bombs and more variety, it would also probably mean a lot more oomph. We needed all the oomph we could get at the moment. "Shit... I think the right call is getting Esoteric Explosives up. It''s the right call for the short term, at least." There would definitely still be longer term benefits to such a thing. For one, you would have greater access to esoteric ammunition for even your simplest projectile weapons. "Right," I said. It wasn''t like it would be a loss. It was just that the Sunwatcher Technologies catalogue would probably kick more ass in the long run. Don''t forget that the number of tokens you have will only increase over time. The destruction of Phobos will certainly contribute. That was also true. I''d have one token left over if I bought the next class up for Esoteric Explosives. So I''d only be missing two more to bring Sunwatcher Technologies to par. I''d probably get at least one from Phobos, that much Myalis had confirmed, so I''d at most be missing one more token. That couldn''t be too hard to pick up, right? "Yeah, alright," I said. "Grab me that Esoteric Explosives catalogue, the next class up." To be clear, the cost isn''t limited to a number of tokens. The next class up is rather expensive. "It can''t be that bad, can it?" I asked. Sixteen Thousand points. I choked. "Holy fuck. How much... how much would the class four cost?" I asked. Ten times as much. A hundred and sixty thousand points. "Shit," I said. That wasn''t breaking the bank or anything, but that was damned close to half my points gone, just for the ability to buy more stuff. "Damn. Is it worth it?" I''d say so, yes. The increase in your potency will be considerable. And speaking plainly, banking points as you have serves little purpose. You gain nothing from having a large number of points left unspent. There''s utility in being able to purchase what you might need when you need it in the future, but those aren''t considered properly weighted purchases. I sat up, then let out a long huff of a breath. "Yeah, okay," I said. You''ll make the purchase? "I will," I said. "Just... do it quick, like ripping off a bandaid." New Purchase: Class III Esoteric Explosives Points Reduced to... 26,740 I chewed on my lip, but refrained from wincing. That was... still a lot of points. I was still fine. Now, about additional upgrades... "Urgh," I said. "No, I think I''ve spent myself out for the day," I said. Very well, it''s as you wish. I''ll nag you again once there''s more of a pressing need for new equipment. "Nag?" I asked. Do you need the word defined? "No, I know what it means, I''m just impressed that you''d just... right out and state it. It''s not exactly subtle." I don''t need to be subtle with you. It''s one of the reasons I bothered to insert myself in your head, Catherine. You''re refreshingly blunt and idiotic in just the way I like. "Uh... thanks?" Anytime... Just to be clear, I am currently making finger guns. "With what hands?" I asked. I am not at liberty to say. Why did the super-smart alien AI in my head have to be such a shit? Couldn''t I have a nice, polite, and reasonable one? Atyacus seemed fine. Very gentlemanly and polite. Sure he liked burning things, but that was all. I could live with a bit of pyromania. It was better than feline...omania. Lucy walked into the room, apron on and spatula in hand. "Breakfast is ready!" she said. "Oh, good," I said. A distraction. "What was it you made?" "Bacon and scrambled eggs." "Weren''t you going to make some other sort of fancy egg?" I asked. "Cat... for the sake of our relationship, can you please pretend that I intended to make scrambled eggs this entire time?" She batted her eyelashes at me sweetly. "Sure," I said. No one could accuse me of not taking a hint or being a bad girlfriend. "Let''s see about those eggs of yours." "Oh my," she said. I rolled my eyes, but followed her all the same. I was just surrounded by people that thought they were funny, wasn''t I? But hey, it wasn''t all that bad. Myalis was providing me with some cool shit, and I entered the kitchen to find a plate with eggs and bacon and... "Bargain, get the fuck away from my breakfast!" I snapped as I caught the brat red-handed. *** Chapter Fifty-Three - Egg Shells Chapter Fifty-Three - Egg Shells "Media literacy is only necessary when you can''t trust the media you consume." -Very True Social, Failed Slogan, 2038 *** I was just about done with breakfast when I decided to pop open the group chat for the Big Gun. Someone had added a new channel to the chat, which caught my eye right away. It was otherwise pretty calm, at least compared to the last couple of days where we were rushing to get everything ready. Hedgehog had been updating the main chat all night long with a rather formal list. He''d spell out what kind of shell was loaded into the Big Gun and when, then a few minutes later the shell''s impact on Phobos in terms of points he''d earned. Hedgehog: 23:14 High Impact Explosive Shell Hedgehog: 24:10 Points gained: 1045 Hedgehog: 24:15 PyroChemical MIRV Hedgehog: 01:08 Points gained: 820 The list went all through the night, more or less once an hour. The time between the shots and their impact on Phobos was very slowly decreasing by about one or two minutes after every shot, which was interesting to note. The points earned were all over the place. It seemed, at a glance, like anything that was more penetrative was worth a bit more. There was some additional commentary by Hedgehog about certain rounds. Mostly noting their effectiveness or lack thereof. One shell meant to blow up over the moon''s surface had barely made any points and he''d taken a lot of notes about why it was ineffective. Another MIRV shell had tagged a flight of smaller models as they were flying out to intercept some of the Keiretsu''s drones and Hedgehog noted that we''d earned a lot more points than we would have otherwise. Anyway, that chat was interesting to look over. If I had more of an analytical mind, I might be able to come to some smart conclusion from looking at it, but I figured I''d leave that to the others. I left a note mentioning how I bought a third-tier catalogue to give us access to more oomph, and Grasshopper immediately replied with a... gif of a chibi version of herself pressing a gold star onto a cartoon cat''s forehead? Did she have a ''silly gifs'' catalogue or was her AI just as childish as she was? Actually, I didn''t want to know. The new chat, once I clicked it open, had me sitting up straighter. "Fuck," I muttered. Lucy''s head whipped around. "What''s wrong?" she asked. "Did I leave some eggshell in? I was sure I picked all the bits out." "Wait... was that the crunchy bit? I thought it was pepper?" "Oh... never you mind then," Lucy said. "What''s the fuck about?" I frowned, but decided not to pursue. Eggshell couldn''t be all bad, right? Probably had protein or something. "There''s a new group chat going on, for the samurai in the Big Gun project. Looks like the media has shown up." "Weren''t you guys being all subtle?" Lucy asked. "Yeah, that''s why I''m pissed," I said. I stood up, then sighed. "Gros Baton is taking care of them, apparently. They''re not at the site, at least, so we have that much going for us." "If they''re not at the site, then where are they?" Lucy asked. "Saint-J¨¦rome," I said. "But they''re asking pointed questions and Gros Baton said that he can only play the ''I don''t speak English'' card for so long. I don''t think he''s gotten used to being a samurai enough to tell the media to fuck off." "Aww, he needs big sister Cat to save him!" Lucy said. I rolled my eyes. I wasn''t going to save him. I was going to make sure he didn''t make a mess of things. If that happened to keep him out of trouble, that was entirely a happy side-effect. "Whatever," I said before walked over to Lucy. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her smiling face closer. "Gimme a kiss for the road?" I ended up with enough kisses for the road there and back. Getting on my bike a few minutes later, I kicked off and flew out of our home and aimed northwards. I had to stifle a yawn. Something about a heavy breakfast made me feel sleepy, even though I''d definitely gotten enough sleep that it shouldn''t have been an issue. I kicked on the auto-pilot as soon as I was on the edge of New Montreal so that I could focus on texting. That was probably breaking some law, actually... This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Stray Cat: I''m on my way to SJ Stray Cat: Keep your head on GB Gros Baton: Hurry, tbrnk. These reporters are like dogs Stray Cat: Where in SJ are you? The kid gave me some vague directions. The media had mostly shown up near that big camp on the southern end of the city. They''d have been easy to ignore since they were keeping away from the military camp on the northern end of the city, but Gros Baton had discovered them asking a lot of questions and then he''d poked his nose into things. Now they were on him like street dogs on an injured kitten. They smelled blood and were hungry for a bite. I grumbled as I retook control of the bike and pushed the throttle down a little more. I didn''t actually intend to save the kid when I left, but it looked like he might actually need it. And to think that I was aiming for the hardest part of the day being the bit where I picked out what to shoot at the aliens next. Saint-J¨¦rome appeared out over the horizon and I zipped towards it then circled around the southern end of the city. There were a few balloons hovering over the walls with flak guns mounted to their sides to take out any flying models, and it looked like some of Major Tinwhistle''s engineers were slowly working to refurbish the barriers that had fallen apart. A lot more of the city was alive now than when we''d first arrived here. More lights were on, more people out on the streets. It looked like cars were still forbidden except for some buses moving around, so people were taking to walking and biking around. A few armoured cars and lighter tanks sat on the busier intersections with soldiers milling around them. Probably rapid response teams, in case a civilian discovered some alien that needed killing. All that was well and good, but it didn''t mean that things were back to anything like normal. The massive camp on the south end of the city seemed to still be full. Maybe not to bursting, but it looked like half the city''s population was there. "Hey, Myalis, do you have a good idea of where the kid is?" I asked. One moment... yes, his AI has confirmed his location after asking for his permission to disseminate the information. He is next to the hardware store. Marking the location now. The hardware store? That turned out to be a larger building pretty much right under me. The front was opened up and it looked like some tents and such extended all the way inside. Judging by the number of brand-new barbecues being used outside, the place had been turned into more camp space. Next to it was a parking lot that was currently occupied by a half dozen news vans, including a few that looked like they could fly on down to where they were parked. I even recognized some of the logos. The New Montreal Gazette, La/The Presse/Press, The Journal of New Montreal. Then there were the newer ones. NMN, CBC2, Shoot Star. That was a pretty big chunk of the local media pie represented down there, and it looked like they''d deployed the attack journalists on Gros Baton. The kid was... not quite pinned against the wall of the hardware store, but he certainly had it to his back and looked like he couldn''t make an easy getaway. I spun my bike around and brought it down. Journalists and camera dudes leapt away not to be squished beneath me. A few had their perfect hair mussed up by the wash of the bike''s thrusters, but I did make sure that I wasn''t actually going to land on anyone. "Hey, what the hell?" one guy asked, which... was fair. He choked on his words as I unsaddled the bike, then tugged my coat on straight. "Sorry," I said without feeling it. "Just need to squeeze on past..." I blinked as the media types formed ranks and I suddenly found myself next to Gros Baton while they cut us both off from my bike. I decided not to be too concerned. The worse they could do was make me look bad. "Hey," I said to the kid. "You good?" "Ca va," he replied, but his smile was a little shaky. "Can we, ah, get the fuck out?" I grinned. "Sure, but maybe you can let me answer a question or two?" Just because they could make me look bad didn''t mean I wanted them too, and maybe tossing them a bone would keep these dogs calm for a bit. *** Chapter Fifty-Four - Burned/Scarred/Butch, Scary, and Notorious Chapter Fifty-Four - Burned/Scarred/Butch, Scary, and Notorious "As with most careers, the modern journalist has their own codified look. Journo fashion is usually marked by plate carriers and bulletproof vests, often in bright, faction-neutral colours. Occasionally a journo will be wearing a flak helmet as well, oftentimes with several electronic upgrades attached to it to allow them to capture the world around them in high fidelity. The modern microphone, with sound dampening, vocal-tuned pick ups, and at-range-listening is another must-have for any fashionable journalist." --Fashion Careers, 2049 *** "You good?" I muttered once I was right next to Gros Baton. The kid nodded once, his face set and serious, brows drawn into a scowl. "J''pense que ?a va. Mais ces journalistes-l¨¤ n''arr¨ºtent pas de me harceler." I think I''m alright. These journalists won''t stop hounding me, though. He gestured to the journalists who were kind of crowding us in. I was pretty sure I could beat a path to my bike with no problem. I only saw a few guns in the lot. Plenty more body-armour though. Plate-carriers were the order of the day, and a few of them had army-style helmets repainted with the logo of their stations on the sides. Not all, mind, a lot of them were trying to look friendly and personable, all corpo-smiles and artificially friendly faces. There were two ways out of here, I figured. That mostly came from the limited experience I had seeing celebrities and samurai dealing with the media, so it was all third or fourth hand experience. Still, I''d seen some meme-able fuckups and knew what not to do. Don''t insult the journos... unless I was really hot, funny, or popular. Don''t repeat ''no comment'' endlessly, it only pisses them off... unless I was hot about it, or funny, or popular. Don''t get too defensive, don''t ramble, and don''t assume the mic is off. Unless I could be hot or funny with it. Fuck, being hot, funny, and popular was one hell of a leg up, but I wasn''t any of those three so I''d have to be sensible. So, two solutions. Drag Gros Baton out of here as quick as I could, fast enough not to piss this lot off, or... the other solution. "Alright, you fucks," I said before waving them down. Somehow that actually shut some of them up. "You get one question per network." They all started at once. "Oi! Shut the fuck up!" I snapped. Wait, was that insulting? Fuck me I wasn''t good at following my own advice, was I? "One per network. I''ll know if you''re being a dick about it. Don''t test me. You! Yeah, you, the gormless guy with the baldspot. Yeah, I can see it, question, now." Screw it, I was gonna handle this bunch like I would unruly kids and I''d hope for the best. "Uh, Kai Voss, for Apoca-Lips," he said before pointing a small microphone my way. "Uh, can you let us know about your relationship with the samurai next to you?" "Gros Baton?" I asked. "He''s nice enough." I shrugged with a shoulder. "Next. You, with the blue and yellow hair." Dude had a logo with the same colours on his chest. "Ridge Byte with the Flossing Network, can you tell us about your dental routine?" I blinked. "I don''t brush and I sure as shit don''t floss. Teeth are luxury bones and I''m rich as fuck. You, the hot one with the rainbows. Also, you single?" The girl blushed prettily. "Ah, hello, Violet Shade, from PRSM, the LBGT-QWERTY Tech network... I''m not single?" "Yeah, I''m not either," I admitted. "Thank you?" she tried. "S-speaking of relationships, miss, what''s your current status and if I may, what''s your stance on two-spirit, lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, questioning, intersex, asexual plus issues?" "I''m very not single and happy about it, and I don''t care who or what people fuck as long as it''s not with me," I said. I pointed to the next guy. "Avery Covert, Top Secret News," he said. "What are the samurai around here doing? Initially, there was a push to protect this area, but for the last two days, sightings have decreased substantially, and there''s clear signs of some sort of cover-up." I paused for a moment. Dude was getting to the heart of it, wasn''t he? Lie? Dismiss it? I shrugged and did as I would with the kittens. "You''re right," I said. "There''s some shit going on, and I can''t tell you about it because we''re doing a big cover up of the whole situation. I wish I could tell you, but I really don''t want to and you''re just gonna have to live with that. If it helps any, we''re saving the world, probably." If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. I pointed to the next chump. "Wendy Gale, Canada-Wide Weather, what are your opinions on modern climate change?" "I''m a Canadian girl who''s only seen snow in movies and TV, but it always looks like it''d be a pain in the ass to handle, so I really don''t care," I said. "You, with the army getup." "Charlie Foxtrot from MNN," the man said. He was standing tall and serious, looking like a posterboy for the army. "You''ve been working with the armed forces for some time now around this area, what do you have to say about your experiences so far?" "It''s been good," I said. "Lots of professional sorts. Shout out to Major Tinwhistle, Lieutenants Moreau and Juno, and the Brigadier General. They''re real accommodating and don''t fuck around, which is really something I can appreciate. I''ve discovered that I really love artillery too." He nodded seriously, but seemed happy with the answer. I pointed to some hippy-looking chick next to him. "Holly Woods, Nature and Entertainment. Why did you set a lake on fire?" "Shit was fucked," I said. "The lake was some corpo''s chemical dumping ground for super pesticides that cause super cancer or something. They didn''t work because the aliens thrived in that shit, so Gomorrah did as she does and now the lake''s on fire." I raised a hand. "Myalis, can you send her an infodump on the fuckers?" Consider it sent... because it is. Holly seemed happy enough with that judging by her winning smile. "You," I said, pointing to the next guy. We were... maybe halfway though, but I wasn''t going to stand around here all day, not when I could see more media-types rushing over. "Word, Buzz, of Politycon. Are you planning to murder any more politicians?" "Only if they don''t keep to their lane," I said. "You?" "Penelope Scope, The New Montreal Celebrity Investigators. We''ve noticed that you have a few cat-like body enhancements and have recently set up a charity-like program offering people low-priced prosthetics. Are cat ears going to become available as well? Maybe tails and claws?" "I wasn''t planning on offering anything like that," I said. "Would people even want that? No, don''t... don''t answer that. You, with the fancy tech hair." I pointed to a chick with a fro made of green and blue tech hair. "Wanda Lust of the Globe Travellers News Association, have you considered roaming outside of the New Montreal area?" "Uh, not really, but I have been making friends in other countries lately, so who knows? Maybe I''ll fly over to say hi one of these days? I''m sure shit''s worse in some places than it is here and they might need a hand." I pointed to one last guy. He seemed smartly dressed, more of a classic journo than the rest. He nodded in thanks and adjusted a pair of aug-glasses. "Benjamin Lebeau from CNMN. My... peers here have brought up a number of questions, but I really wanted to know where you stand with regards to improving New Montreal. You shot the mayor, causing a great deal of political turmoil in a time where such is unwelcome, but you''ve also visibly put a lot of effort into the reconstruction and repair of the New Montreal sewer system." "Uh, sorry, Ben, but where''s the question?" I asked. "Forgive me. The question is; what are your policies and do you aim to improve the city, if so, how?" he said. I had to take a moment to unpack that, but no more than a moment. To these kinds of jackals, a long pause would only give them fuel to call me slow-witted and stupid. At least, it would be enough for the kittens. "Right," I said to fill the air a little. "Look, I''m from New Montreal. Born there... more or less raised there. It''s home, and it''s never not been shit. The air stinks, the people are cunts and it''s a giant festering shithole. I don''t think I can change that. I''m just one girl, samurai or no. But I''ve got some friends, like this little brat here, and others, and we''re willing to claw and shoot and fuck shit up to keep the city going. I guess that''s my policy. I''ll fix what I see as broken enough to bother fixing. Don''t expect me to turn the place into a utopia, if you want that you''ll need to do your share too." "Thank you," Benjamin said. "Yeah. Okay, that''s enough, we need to get back to work. Talking to you bunch won''t get the aliens any more dead. Yeah yeah, I don''t care, move it. Move it! For fuck''s sake." *** Chapter Fifty-Five - Cutting To The Heart of The Moon Chapter Fifty-Five - Cutting To The Heart of The Moon "Are they hiding something from you? Top Secret News says... yes! Exclusive street-side interview with two samurai reveals hidden truth! A Conspiracy is at play! Subscribe now!" --Top Secret News, 2057 *** "Hey, thanks, eh? You saved my ass back there," Gros Baton said. "Yeah yeah, just don''t get too comfy about it," I grumbled. I didn''t mind the kid. He was polite enough. Hell, he was just a good bloke as far as I could tell. He tried, at least, and that was more than I could say about a disconcertingly large portion of the population. My only problem with him right now was that he had his arms wrapped around my waist. I didn''t have any issues with Rac holding onto me. She was a kid, and a girl, so it was fine, but I was getting all sorts of squicked out by this guy. I mean, it was objectively stupid. I was wearing several layers of armour. None of his disgusting boy germs were gonna escape his hairy arms and get to me, but it was still uncomfortable. Fortunately, we didn''t have to fly far. I shot across Saint-J¨¦rome, then down to use some of the taller buildings to cut our line of sight from the media sorts we''d left behind. Then I gunned it, rushing out of the city at an angle and slowly curving around westward until I was aiming more or less towards where the Big Gun was. A few minutes later we were being scanned by a dozen AA positions that looked ready to tear us apart until something pinged us as friendly. I really needed to upgrade my bike to something that could take a few flak hits before the inevitable happened, but the inevitable wasn''t happening today, and I landed in the open space before the command structure a few dozen metres from the big Gun. "Alright, enough clinging to me, off, off," I said. "Yeah, yeah," Gros Baton said as he rolled off the side of the bike. "It wasn''t comfortable for me either. Didn''t know where to put my hands. Christ, you need ''andles or something." "Keep talking and I''m getting a sidecar," I said. "That sounds kinda fun?" he said. "I was thinking I''d get something too, ya know? Une genre de skidoo qui peut voler ou ben quelque chose d''m¨ºme?" I wasn''t sure what he was saying there, but I kinda got the mental image from his gesturing. "Uh-huh. Just make sure it''s got a good auto-pilot. Real lifesaver that shit." "''Kay," he said with a nod. I checked the time on my augs. I was only twenty-minutes late to the start of my shift, which really didn''t explain the ''why did you shit on my bed'' look Hedgehog was giving me as I got closer to the command centre and he stomped out. "You finally decided to show up?" he asked. "Yeah," I agreed. "Had to save the kid from the big bad journalists. I think I''ve given them enough to talk about that they''ll leave us alone for a minute." He sniffed. "There''s no such thing. They''re insatiable." "Well shit, I was hoping some of them would at least be a little distracted," I said. "So, how''s the gun?" He uncrossed his arms and shook his head. "It''s doing well enough, but we''re short on ammunition." "Can''t you buy some?" I asked. "Tankette has been supplying us, but her ammunition is mostly... standard. Her armour-piercing shells have had the best effect so far, but they''re not nearly as efficient as some of the more... creative ammunition you left behind." Hedgehog started walking towards the little room at the back of the gun, the one I''d loaded the shells in last time. "Are we out of creative things to shoot, then?" I asked. "I can buy more. Hell, I can buy a lot more, I upgraded my catalogues for just this occasion." "Good, good," he said. "Phobos has been pounded all night." "That makes one of us," I said. Gros Baton choked, then started to laugh until Hedgehog turned and gave us both the stink-eye. "We''re talking about the end of the world here. Some level of seriousness would be appreciated." "Sorry," I said. "Go on?" "The Tesla Collider has fired twice more, both times dealing some substantial damage. And at the moment there is a constant swarm of smaller Keiretsu drones harassing the... we''re calling them point-defence models. Smaller space-capable models that can fly around Phobos and who are harming our targeting and attacking any drones." The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. "Damn, alright. And our shots? What''s the damage?" "Moderate at best," he said, which was... not something I was keen on hearing, to be honest. "Can you give me something more... tangible? I don''t know, a percentage? An HP pool? A nice round number my small pitiful brain can wrap itself around?" Hedgehog paused for a moment, then nodded. "We''d managed to successfully detach seven percent of the moon''s mass from the surface." "That''s nothing," I said. He made a so-so gesture. "It''s more than you''d think? That''s several hundred thousand tons of mass. But in order to eliminate the danger that Phobos poses, we''d need to reduce its mass to something like a hundredth of its original mass. If Phobos hits Earth as scattered debris, we''ll have won." Right, right, that sounded decent. "So we''re more than seven percent of the way to victory?" "If you put it that way, we''re closer to twenty?" he said. "My AI suggests that it''s not a very precise way of looking at things." "No, that''s fine. I just need something ballpark-ish to wrap my head around the whole thing." We arrived at the command room and Hedgehog gestured for us to go in first, so I did. It was just as cramped in there as I remembered. I instantly quieted down when I noticed Tankette on one of the seats. She was holding a large, quilted-looking blanket close, and had her head leaning to the side against one of the consoles. Someone had snuck a pillow under her, and judging by the little hedgehog pattern on its cover, I had a good guess as to whom. "She''s... a very heavy sleeper," Hedgehog said, but he was keeping his voice lower too. "Uh-huh," I replied. "So... what worked?" He frowned, and I had the impression he''d pulled something up in his Augs. "The most successful round so far was the deployable monofilament bomb." "Really?" I asked. Hedgehog seemed to take offence at the question. He turned towards the consoles behind him and tapped a few buttons. At least he seemed familiar with the Big Gun''s controls now. A few moments later one of the big screens lit up. It was a visual of a projectile moving across a plotter. The usual thing now for visualising one of our shells zipping out towards Phobos. Then it cut to what had to be a sensor drone''s point of view. The time code on the bottom of the screen slowed down, so we were seeing things one fraction of a second at a time instead of replaying things in real time. The camera caught sight of the shell and started to zoom in, only for the shell to unfold and break apart. The casing flew off into the void of space, but what it revealed looked like... "Kinda butt-plugish, huh?" I asked. Hedgehog sighed. The... I was gonna call it a dart for now, was spinning through space at what was probably a ridiculous speed even as six smaller darts flew out of it. Then it crashed into a rocky outcropping on the edge of Phobos, a sort of mountain that took the impact with barely a puff of dust rising from where the dart hit. At least, at first. The camera zoomed out, then zoomed right back in as a slice of that mountain shifted. It was a perfect cut, being pulled downwards slowly before it gained momentum and started a small avalanche. It became clear that the dart had basically six long slices right out of the mountain, and they were all moving now that they were separate. "It''s hit or miss," Hedgehog said. "The cuts go deep, but just because something is cut doesn''t mean it''ll detach itself." "Right," I said. Tons of stone like that didn''t just move away so easily. "But the damage is good, otherwise?" "In combination with the Tesla collider? It''s significant. It seriously weakens the moon''s structural integrity, and the monofilament wires can stretch out for hundreds of metres. It''s the widest-range weapon at our disposal right now." I nodded along. That made sense. It was small as hell, so it was easy to pack a ton into a single shell. "Not bad," I said. "But let''s see if we can''t try something else, huh? I got my hands on a new catalogue and I need to test out what sort of trouble I can get up to with it." Tankette snored in approval. *** Chapter Fifty-Six - Le Bad Suck Chapter Fifty-Six - Le Bad Suck "I see you, I feel you. You thought I was dead? You wish I was. But you forgot that I''m It. I will fuck you up in ways that no one''s ever fucked someone up before. They will invent words to describe what I''m going to do. I will turn your corporation into statistics. I am a broken mirror and my shards are in your throat. I''m going to tear your reflection out of your spine... bitch." --Mad Vlad to Calliope Corp CEO before their bankruptcy, 2045 *** "Alright," I muttered just low enough not to wake Tankette up. "Myalis, what have you got for me? Keep them under... call it one thousand points a shell? We need to fire a fuckload of these." Certainly. Are we still going for variety first? I considered it, then realized that I had two others to do the thinking for me. "Hedge, do we go for variety or just lots of what we think might work?" He frowned, then nodded slowly. "Variety. But please don''t grab anything wasteful. We only have a few dozen more shots to make this count. We can try new things--and we''re probably better off varying the kinds of damage we deal--but we can''t afford to waste effort and shots." "Got it," I said. "Heard that, Myalis?" I did. Let''s start then! First, might I suggest something simple to whet the appetite? "Go on." Was she trying to sound like a fancy server on purpose? Actually, scratch that, she definitely was. The first is a Scrambler bomb. This one detonates and creates a field around itself that shifts items around. It''s not quite random, but it might as well be. The Scrambler will remain active for a relatively long time after deployment and will continuously move atoms away from their current location and to a random one nearby. "And that does... what to a person?" It scrambles them, Catherine. That kills people. "Oh," I said. "How big of an AOE are we talking here?" "AOE?" Gros Baton asked, but it was aimed at Hedgehog. The man started to explain about video game terms like Area of Effect and how they ended up co-opted by the military. The area of effect begins at a kilometre across, give or take a few bus-lengths. Then it shortens over time with the incident of atomic re-materialization increasing exponentially. I must add that this creates a lot of radiation, both as heat and across the radioactive spectrum. "Fuck it, we won''t have to deal with that, the aliens will. Add one of those to the shopping cart," I said. "Next?" Next... an Electron Suppression bomb would have some interesting effects on the Phobos object. It would give all protons in a large area a negative charge. "I don''t know enough about physics to tell what that would do, but I can imagine it would be bad. Add it!" Fantastic. A riff on a bomb that you''ve purchased before as a grenade might be interesting; the Full Stop is a device covered by a nearly unbreakable shell. Once activated, it stops moving. "Why would a device that can''t move be good?" I asked. You misunderstand. It cannot be moved. It is spatially locked. I shrugged. "What would happen to Phobos if it runs into a spatially-locked indestructible thing?" Hedgehog perked up. "You should get that." "Alright, add it. Anything else?" Gluon bombs. I''d explain how changing the environment reacts to the Strong Nuclear Force could be destructive, but by the time you''d understand it, Phobos will have landed. "Fine, fine, add your glue bomb too." "That doesn''t sound as destructive," Hedgehog said. "I know, right?" I said. "Next?" Short-duration black holes? "Fuck yeah!" I said. "Nothing says ''fuck off'' like chucking a black hole at someone." "That sounds good, yeah," Gros Baton said. "Give them le bad suck." Now I was second guessing myself. Did I want to be known as the samurai that gave the big mean moon le bad suck? The memes would be ruinous. On the other hand, footage of a small black hole opening up on the side of something the size of a moon and fucking it right up might do wonders in reminding people not to mess with me and mine. "Okay, add a couple of those to the cart," I said. "Anything else?" Keiretsu have been spending a lot of time combatting smaller models encircling the main body of the Phobos object. Perhaps something that would assist them? "More than smashing big bombs into the side of the moon?" I asked. Somewhat, yes. I''d suggest the Bee Bomb. It''s packed with a system that allows its interior to be larger than the volume expected from its exterior dimensions. The insides are filled with small self-powered drones. Several thousand of them. On deploying, these drones exit the bomb and dart out towards enemy targets at high velocities. They''re packed full of explosives. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "Add it," I said with a nod. It might help our Keiretsu buddies, and it just sounded cool besides. "Is that it?" Of course not. So far we''ve only toyed with two of the fundamental forces. But if you want a capstone... perhaps a Cryogenic Anti-Thesis Stasis bomb? It''ll sap the heat from the area where it lands. The Antithesis generally requires some amount of heat to operate, and the other bombs you''d been using have been creating plenty. This might reverse that to some degree. I considered it for a moment before my eyes narrowed. "That spells out CATS," I said. A coincidence, I''m sure. I shook my head. "Alright, let''s get... two of each? That should hold us up until the end of our shift." Hedgehog, ever the helpful sort, moved to the back and opened up the access door into the shell storage compartment. There were two left, both loaded into their slots and ready to fire. New Purchases: Scrambler Bomb x2 Electron Suppression x2 Full Stop x2 Gluon x2 Black Hole Bomb x2 Bee Bomb x2 Cryogenic Anti-Thesis Stasis x2 Total Cost: 13,250 points Point total reduced to: 32,530 Fourteen shells appeared in the racks, each one slotting into place with a satisfying click-thunk. They were all slightly different, with shiny exteriors covered in burnished steel. "That''s half a day''s worth of shells," I said. "If we''re lucky, we won''t even need this many." "If we''re lucky," Hedgehog said. He glanced at his wrist, where an old-school watch was wrapped around his arm. "The Tesla collider should be firing within the next hour. We''ll shoot right after. And then my shift will be over. I''ll escort Miss... Tankette to bed." "How romantic," I said. "She''s not interested that way," he said. I blinked. Did that mean... he was? But Hedgehog had a poker face like a marble statue and didn''t give anything away. "Sleeping this way will give her a crick in the neck. You might be too young to understand, but once you hit thirty you''ll know that sleeping crooked is unacceptable." "I know what you mean, yeah. We used to get mil-surplus beds back at the orphanage," I said. "The mattresses were thinner than a slice of burger meat and you were lucky if you got one of those without springs. Knew one kid that died because of one of them." "How did he die to a mattress?" Gros Baton asked. "Tetanus," I said with a shrug. "Like, half the symptoms of that are shit you get from bad dieting, so it''s not like it''s easy to tell that he had something wrong going on, at least until it was too late." Hedgehog just stared at me for a moment. "That''s messed up." "Happens. Anyway, are we good here?" "We should be. Keep us updated on the group chat as things progress. And please make sure not to leave the site without at least one samurai present. Two is better," Hedgehog said. "The media is sniffing around, as proven by Gros Baton''s interaction with them earlier, and that''s not to mention the others liable to want what we have here. Any one of those shells would be worth millions to a corp." Don''t give the dubiously-moral corporation access to WMDs, got it. I padded over to Tankette''s side and touched her shoulder. "Hey, uh, Tankette, time to wake up?" I hesitated and almost called her ma''am, but that was too formal. ''Sweetie'' swung the bar all the way to the other side, and ''dear'' was right out because I wasn''t born in the 1800s. She blinked awake, then looked around herself with a start. "Oh my, did I fall asleep? Hedge, I''m so sor--" She cut herself off with a demure little yawn that she hid behind a hand. "Sorry... I guess I''m not fit for staying up all night anymore." "Been a while?" I asked. "I''ll have you know I used to be able to party from sundown to sunup." Somehow, trying to imagine Tankette as a party girl felt... inherently wrong. "Uh-huh." "How do you think I ended up with my first child?" "I really don''t want to know," I said. She laughed, then stretched her neck to the side. "Oh, I''m going to have a crick all week." "Best get you to a proper bed, then. Come on, Gros Baton and I will take over while you get your sleep on." *** Chapter Fifty-Seven - In Space No One Can Hear You Buzz Chapter Fifty-Seven - In Space No One Can Hear You Buzz "Top 8 best selling AUG games of 2057 1. Reality Runners [AR Collector Game] 2. The Family [Samurai Gacha] 3. Silly Starlight Symphony [Rythme Gacha] 4. Galaga 2 [Fixed Shooter Arcade] 5. Quantum Heist [Party Game] 6. Minecraft [Sandbox] 7. Verseforge [World Creator] 8. Catastrophe Clicker [Clicker Game] --Game News Networld, 2057 *** I thought being on watch would be boring, and I was mostly right. It did have a few highlights, though. A dinky little alarm clock went off a few minutes after Hedgehog carried Tankette away. It was one of those small red ones, with the two big bells on top of it, and the purely analogue clockface. I wasn''t even sure how to read the time on it, but I did figure out that smacking the little knob on the top shut it down. "Okay, I''m guessing that means it''s time to shoot something," I said. "?a l''air pas mal ?a." Gros Baton said. "What''re we shooting?" There was a whole menu with all of the loaded shells on it on one screen that he was flicking through, each option highlighted one after the other. "Good question," I said. "Uh. What''s the situation over around Phobos?" I eyed the consoles and realized that there were a lot of blank buttons. I pressed one at random, then some part of my less stupid brain realized that I''d just pressed a random button on a kilometre-long gun''s control station and that was probably a bad idea. Instead of pushing random buttons, how about you just let me handle things and leave the poor coolant control system alone? "Yup, sorry," I said as I drew my hands back from all the buttons. "Just... can we throw up Phobos'' status ATM on the big screen?" Certainly. I felt Gros Baton eyeing me, so I half turned to meet his gaze. That gave him the push he needed to ask me a question. He even bothered to ask it in his accented English. "Why do you talk to your AI, uh, out loud?" "You mean Myalis? How else am I supposed to talk to her? Text?" "Yeah," he said with a nod. "Oh. Well... isn''t that impersonal?" I asked. He shrugged. "I text my best friends all the time." "I mean, sure. I don''t know. I guess I could, but it feels more natural to talk to her out loud?" "You could whisper." "Do I look like the whispering sort?" He considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "Fair enough," he said. "Looks like the evil moon is busy, eh?" I squinted at the screen. He was pretty spot on there. Phobos was surrounded at the moment. Hundreds of little darting dots. It looked like... actually, it kinda looked like flashing a light into a super dark and dusty room. Lots of little particulate catching the light and swirling around. "What are those little things?" I asked. Mostly lower-tier models. It seems as though Phobos has launched several thousand model elevens and a number of model twelves. Model elevens? Those pterodactyl looking motherfuckers? That was pretty low on the food chain, all things considered. "Wait, they can fly in space?" "Why not, at this point?" Gros Baton said. I mean, sure, but while I might have been lacking any sort of proper education, I was pretty sure wings didn''t count for shit in zero-g and without any atmosphere. Then again, the antithesis seemed to have a knack for not giving a fuck. "Okay, whatever," I said. There were frequent flashes as Keiretsu drones sniped some of the models away with what looked like laser fire, but the models seemed to swarm around organically, and I saw one drone get taken out by a screen of them smashing into it. "Let''s load up one of those Bee Bombs," I said. "We can fuck up their screen, give the Keiretsu a chance to get their drones in closer." "?a m''semble bon," Gros Baton said as he took the second seat and started to fiddle with the targeting. I had no idea if he knew what he was doing, but I didn''t want to show that I was clueless so I left him at it. The ammo selector thing was pretty simple. A sort of menu with a flicky wheel next to it that I could roll to switch between ammo types. There was an entry for every kind of shell I''d bought with the number remaining next to it. I noted that there were a few HE shells that I hadn''t bought as well. Probably Tankette''s purchases. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. I rolled the wheel until Bee Bomb was selected, then tapped the accept button next to it. Behind me, a mechanical arm moved up to the right shell, then loaded it into a sort of holster before moving it to the Big Gun''s breech. After that, all we needed to do was pick a target. Phobos was pre-selected, which was nice. "Time to target... two minutes? Shit, that''s not long," I said. The satellite thing with the other portal had been moving this entire time, and it was slowly getting closer to Phobos. That, and Phobos was slowly getting closer to us. I wasn''t exactly what anyone would call a math whizz, but I understood that the time between shooting and hitting being shorter meant that shit was getting closer together. I kinda dreaded looking at the final count-down between the meeting with Phobos and Earth. So, instead, I looked at the percentage we''d chipped off the moon. Eight. Eight percent. That was still a lot, but fuck me if that wasn''t nowhere near enough. A small pit formed in my stomach. Then Gros Baton grinned and pointed to the big red button. "J''peux-tu?" he asked. "Go ahead," I said. He flicked the little plastic shield up, then slammed a fist down onto the button. Good thing it was made tough. The usual hair-rising thing happened as the Big Gun fired, followed by the hiss of coolant working to keep the gun intact. "Myalis," I said once the noise died down a little. "Can you show me how to run diagnostics? I''d like to shoot more than once an hour. Even just ten minutes sooner every hour would be one more shell every six hour shift, right?" Ten times six is sixty, yes. I can help you with that. It should be possible, though it will increase wear slightly. Given the time constraints, the increased wear shouldn''t interfere with operations. "So we can keep shooting and shoot a little faster and shit won''t blow up in our faces? Yeah, I''m down for that." I reached up and rubbed at the spot where my cybernetic cat ears met my head. Gros Baton nodded, then pointed to the screen. The Bee Bomb was arriving. It looked like a streak across the monitor as it raced towards Phobos. We watched in glorious HD as the bomb exploded and sent a thousand pinpricks moving across the screen. They intercepted just as many model elevens in mid-flight, turning the birds into statistics. "Nice," I said as I leaned back. The keiretsu didn''t waste too much time. Some drones continued to mop up. More of them flew right into Phobos, slipping between the cracks which were soon illuminated by laser fire. I wasn''t sure what was going on in there, but I figured it wasn''t pleasurable for the aliens. I blinked as I got a notification from Myalis. It had me sitting up a little straighter. Targets Eliminated: Model Eleven - 278 Model Twelve - 41 Points earned: 31,900 Points distributed to Vanguard: 3,987 New point total: 46,517 Holy shit, that was a lot of points. "We''re eating good tonight," I said. I resisted the urge to rub my hands together. Didn''t need Myalis switching me from Cat shit to Racoon shit. That role was taken already. Gros Baton grinned. "I''mma buy the loudest skydoo," he said. "Yeah, you go bud." To be fair, though, that last bomb had targeted small, easy to eliminate models instead of the moon. It wasn''t actually helping directly except to farm points. That eight percent wasn''t moving so easily. But more points meant I could afford more shells, which was nice. I''d just filled my budget for the next day and a bit. The Tesla Collider was going to fire soon too, so that would hopefully leave us with a nice gap where we could fuck up Phobos before it would have time to recuperate. It was going ot take some time to fuck the moon up, and I was legit afraid that it would take more time than we had left. But hey, Keiretsu and the Nightwatchmen weren''t freaking out as far as I could tell, so that was probably a good sign. "Right... so uh, we''ve got another fifty or so minutes to wait, huh?" Gros Baton shrugged. "Ouien?" "Yeah... got any games on your augs?" *** Chapter Fifty-Eight - Knight Takes Moon Chapter Fifty-Eight - Knight Takes Moon "People still play chess? That game''s ancient! Why would anyone still want to play that?" --Live Streamer MonMonMan, 2034 *** The hours were crawling by, and if the fate of the entre world wasn''t at stake, and if I wasn''t making points hand over fist, I might have fucked off already to do something more entertaining. As it was, Gros Baton and I were in our sixth game of chess. The kid had bought a holographic chess set for like, three points or something. It hovered between us, the board currently a bit of a mess as our pieces were locked trying to contest the middle. He was winning, of course, but if he made about... six major mistakes in a row, there was a tiny chance that I''d make it through. His pieces looked like tiny mediaeval people. His knights looked like knights and his bishops like bishops. His pawns were teeny-tiny napoleonic soldiers with itty-bitty muskets. "Pawn to E5," he said, and one of his lil soldiers struck one of my knights with the fun end of his bayonet. My pieces were cats. My king and queen were lions, my knights were bobcats in platemail, my bishops were leopards with little pope-hats, and my towers were small towers with lazy tigers sleeping atop them. My pawns were plain old house cats. What few I had left. "Ah, fuck," I muttered. That move had opened up the middle, once that pawn of his died his queen would be right up in my king''s grill. And then my phone rang. Or the phone app on my Augs went off, at least. I jumped, and blinked at the names calling me. The Keiretsu and the Nightwatchmen calling me at the same time? I glanced up at the Phobos monitor before I hit reply. Gros Baton and I had smashed two more shells into the moon. An electron suppression bomb, which had done... something? It left a large hole bored through the moon and made the radiation sensors the Keiretsu have go absolutely haywire. And right after that, a black hole bomb. That one had been less impressive than I''d hoped. It went off before the moon and gave it the bad suck. Lots of dust and smaller debris was ripped off the surface of Phobos where the bomb went off. It looked like a good quarter of the moon had been power washed by the time the bomb went all supernova and blasted that end of the moon until it looked like something Lucy had started to cook and promptly forgot about. Pretty okay results, all in all. We were up to ten percent, which was a good sign, I figured. "Yo," I said as I answered the call. I made the universal ''I''m on a call'' gesture with thumb and pinkie so that Gros Baton would know that I wasn''t just surrendering. "Ah, Miss Stray Cat?" Doctor Weber said. "Good! It''s a pleasure to speak with you again. I heard that you were currently operating the Big Gun''s... Big Gun, and so I thought it would be a good time for a conference." "Yeah, sure," I said. "Sup? And uh, hi to you too Susan." "Greetings, Stray Cat," the calmer Japanese man said. "Your team has been doing impressive work." "Aww, thanks! Your drones are pretty kick-ass too," I said. I''d been seeing them coming in on the Phobos monitor. It looked like the Keiretsu had kicked up production pretty steadily, because the number of drones rushing over was increasing every hour. They were actually kinda neat? They looked like balls, mostly, with manoeuvring thrusters poking out all over the place and then whatever kind of gun or whatever they had stuck out of the end. Some of them were linked up to get to Phobos, often tied to a larger booster that would disconnect then fly on over to the moon where they blew up satisfyingly before the drones started to go around and do their own things. "Thank you," Susan said. "We didn''t call to trade compliments, however." "Indeed. The situation is more dire than we expected," Radikal said. "Our current projections suggest that Phobos will be within the red zone in forty-eight hours." "What''s the red zone?" I asked. "Beyond the obvious that it''s something we don''t want." "The red zone is what we''re calling the area of space where an unbroken Phobos will absolutely be able to annihilate life on Earth. Even if Phobos is rendered into pieces no bigger than a car, within the Red zone it would still kill us all." The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. "Oh," I said. "And how close are we to the, uh, orange zone?" "We''re in it," Susan said. "Well, fuck," I said. I sat up a little straighter. "So, I''m assuming we have a solution to all of this?" "We do," Radikal said. "Continue as we have. The rate of demolition is somewhat exponential. The Keiretsu drones should be reaching the kind of critical numbers within the next twenty-four hours where they''ll theoretically be able to excise the antithesis near the moon''s surface. The next use of the Teslakollisionsgenerator should significantly weaken the moon''s structural integrity." "Cool, cool," I said. "And that''ll be enough?" "It should be. Current calculations show that Phobos should begin dispersal six hours before entering the red zone. At which point our task becomes to further spread the remaining mass out as much as we can so that its entry into Earth''s atmosphere is minimally disruptive." "Anything we can do to help on our end?" I asked. "Your current push has been quite positive, I would suggest you continue," Radikal said. "Though, if you have any exotic weaponry that might slow the moon down, it would be quite welcome. Otherwise, anything that weakens its integrity should be prioritised." I leaned over and looked at the shells behind us. "I think I might have something for that. Was gonna load something else first, but we might as well try it? It''s called a Full Stop? And it''s a sort of spatially locked thingy that we can leave in Phobos'' path. I don''t think it''ll stop the moon dead, but it might slow it down." "Hmm, that would depend on the size of it, but I can imagine such a thing causing some significant damage," Radikal said. "I almost wish we had attempted a different approach than the Teslakollisionsgenerator, one that would allow for more flexibility." "Yeah," I said, because what else could I say? "In any case, fire that device. The Teslakollisionsgenerator is warming up now and should be ready for another strike within the hour. This time we''re aiming for the opposite of the usual compaction method." "You''re gonna make the moon uncompact?" I asked. "Like, spread apart?" He laughed. "Exactly! Before the larger wave of drones arrive and risk being battered by the moon''s expansion. Hopefully this will expose the hives within the moon so that they might be eliminated." "Is that even a problem at this point?" I asked. Susan huffed. "Obviously. Though I can see your reasoning in thinking otherwise." "Yeah, lots of reasoning going on here," I said. "But explain it to me anyway." He was silent for a moment, and I think that the language barrier saved me a little. "The antithesis within Phobos is a higher-tier model wrapped around a large hive. Were it to crash on Earth, it would survive." "Damn," I said. "So we want it dead before it gets around, but we''re breaking the whole moon up anyway, so it''s kind of a moot point, no?" "Not quite," Radikal said, and he really sounded like someone who''d earned his doctorate as he ''um actually''d'' me. "The issue with the antithesis currently inhabiting Phobos is that it allows the moon to adapt. The wings we saw earlier, the production of small fliers dedicated to eliminating keiretsu drones, and now there''s evidence of organic cooling systems below the moon''s surface as well as organic reinforcements threaded throughout the structure. According to all of our calculations, Phobos should have been cracked and destroyed by now. The antithesis is holding it together, and more importantly, encouraging the moon to repair itself." "Repair itself?" I asked. "It''s producing a cement-like compound and filling gaps," he said. Ah, well, fuck. "Okay, that does make things more complicated. Will your drones be able to kill it?" "They will do what they can," Susan said. "Alright then. Let me and Gros Baton here load up the next shell, then we''ll see about spreading that moon out like... uh..." I froze. None of the metaphors I could think of when it came to spreading things were PG 13. "Anyway, yeah," I settled on. "Thank you, Stray Cat," Radikal said. "If we do happen to fail, it will comfort me to know that I was at least able to work with such talented people." *** Chapter Fifty-Nine - The Full Stop Does Not Stop Chapter Fifty-Nine - The Full Stop Does Not Stop "While we try very hard to keep inflation at a steady rate--because such a steady rate allows for steady, controllable growth across all sectors--we firmly believe that the currency inflationary rates for foodstuffs might be too elevated. 500% yearly increases would mean a very real risk of starvation amongst the workforce, a workforce that we''ve yet to automate. Not to mention, this same workforce makes up a vast majority of our customer base." --Letter from the Union of Corporate Interests of NA, 2042 *** "Here goes nothing," I said as I gently tapped the fire button. My hair stood on end, the room trembled slightly, and the shell was off. At the moment, it was somewhere in the mid-afternoon, and I couldn''t help but feel like that was subtly wrong. We had just fired what might be the final blow. It was meant to be momentous, something big and important, a moment that would go down in the history books... and all I could think about was how I was a little hungry. "Could really go for a snack right about now," I said. "Ouien," the kid said. "J''ai un, uh... catalogue for poutine." "Wait, just poutine, or is it like, a food catalogue?" I asked. He shrugged. "Just that. It was cheaper." Huh. I knew that catalogues were cheaper the more narrow their scope, but I''d never thought to apply that to food, specifically. "Alright. Is it good, at least?" "Eh," he made a so-so gesture. "La petit place au coin d''ma rue en fait une bonne aussi." I squinted and translated that one all on my own. The local place made a good one too. "Well, I''d give it a try, I guess." "Cool! Tiens," he said, and then just like that, a styrofoam bowl with a little plastic cover appeared in his hand. It was warm, and instantly filled the room with a greasy, fatty smell. I took it from him and peeled off the cover revealing... cheese curds, fries, and lots of brownish sauce. Somehow this felt like a step down from the usual Protector food I ordered. Gros Baton handed me a plastic fork, and I shrugged before digging in. It tasted as healthy as it looked. Salty and greasy. The cheese squeaked and the fries crunched. It was pretty good, to be honest, but I just knew this was going straight to the love handles. We watched the progress of the Full Stop on the main monitor while we ate. The little shell was racing ahead right towards Phobos. A smaller status screen showed the Tesla Collider warming up for its next big shot, and the Keiretsu had a small army of drones on a collision course with Phobos as well, all timed to arrive about two minutes after the Collider did its thing. "Oh, it''s gonna impact," I said as I pointed to the screen with my fork. "Mhm," Gros Baton agreed before wiping some gravy from his chin. "Fuck ''em up, tabarnak!" "Yeah! Tabarnak all the way!" I cheered. I had to hand it to the kid, he''d make for a good drinking buddy. Maybe if I was into sports or something I''d invite him over to watch the game and he''d show up with booze and snacks. The Full Stop shell... stopped about a minute later. It went from moving at fuck-you-fast speeds to being completely still in a blip. Though... I wasn''t so sure. Things were still moving around it. It just looked like it had suddenly changed directions? "What''s it doing?" I asked. It has stopped. The motion you see now is the relative motion of the sensor equipment and Phobos, but the shell itself is locked in place. "Locked in place relative to where?" I asked. Don''t you worry about that. I felt like it was probably something I should worry about when Myalis said something like that, but I wasn''t going to have time for the whole explanation when Phobos and the shell were just about to collide. I leaned forwards and switched the main monitor to a camera view from one of the spy drones keeping pace with Phobos. The Full Stop was too small to be visible at the distances we were looking at. Phobos, on the other hand, was a zoomed-in mass of rock covered in a lot more craters than it had had a few days ago. Huge sections of its surface were blackened by soot and char, and there were cracked canyons running across it like the shell of a dropped egg. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. A few mountains had been flattened, and chunks of the moon were just outright missing now. And then Phobos ran into the Full Stop. It struck the moon dead centre. Or maybe the moon struck it? In any case, there was an immediate reaction. A cratering ripple that ran across the moon''s surface like a splash in a still puddle. Phobos didn''t slow down against the backdrop of stars, exactly, but it looked like the entire moon had flinched. And then it was through, and a scattering of rock and debris came pouring out of the back of the moon like guts out of some schmuck that got blasted by a shotgun. "Nice," I said. The integrity counter ticked up from nine percent to twelve. That was a pretty big jump, all things considered. And then the Tesla Collider came online once more. Arcs of electricity the size of skyscrapers raced across the moon''s surface, illuminating its dark side in bright blues and pure whites. Nothing happened, and I was worried when the integrity counter didn''t move. Was it a dud? Then the moon heaved. It was like Phobos had just taken a deep breath Chunks that had to be the size of islands slowly moved up and away. The cracks running across the moon''s surface widened. I was expecting Phobos to simply explode apart, but it wasn''t quite so violent. At least, not from the very long-ranged view we had. Instead, Phobos broke apart like a diagram of one of those cool blueprint things where every part was shown individually. "Whoa," I said as the moon continued to expand outwards. It was twice as big as it had been at the start now, parts still connected by long twisting trails of lightning. The Tesla Collider stopped, and the steady, neat separation of the moon gave up. Chunks collided into each other, others went tumbling out into empty space. The moon scattered. I might have called it a total destruction, except that Phobos was alive, and it wasn''t happy to be split apart like it had been. Long tendrils reached out, crashed into the bigger parts of the moon, and tethered them in place. It looked like the middle of the moon was a many-tentacled sea-urchin desperate to keep itself together. That thing, to scale, had to be bigger than New Montreal. I wasn''t sure if it was a single model or thousands of them working together, and I was even less sure if the difference mattered at all. The Keiretsu arrived a minute later. A swarm of drones, larger than any of those they''d sent before. They burned hard in the empty void. A thousand candle flames visible in the dark. Retrothrusters? I wasn''t sure and didn''t know enough to guess beyond that. Whatever rockets they used were jettisoned to crash into the semi-disassembled Phobos. Then the drones themselves moved in. It looked like they weren''t doing much at first, except that there were occasional explosions of rock and debris across the inside of Phobos'' expanded shell. Gros Baton did something, I think turning on some sort of thermal vision, and then the lasers those drones were firing became visible. Each was like an angry disco ball, sweeping lines of hot fire through the antithesis meat. Smaller models were launched by the thousands, then by the tens of thousands. They scattered, some flinging themselves across space, others had their own ways of moving through space. Drones started to die, but never without exploding violently on death. I glanced over to the integrity ticker. Thirty four percent. Had we really just taken off a third of Phobos'' mass just like that? "Look," Gros Baton said. I turned my attention back to the screen, poutine entirely forgotten as a swarm was unleashed. There had to be millions of them. Tiny black specs that shot out of Phobos, opened large wings, then farted their way forwards even as they twisted and flapped into a swarm that expanded outwards ahead of the moon. It looked like Phobos was tired of waiting. It was sending its own vanguard our way. "I''m betting that''s not a good thing," I said. "No shit," Gros Baton said. "My AI says we have a day." "Great," I said. "Think they''ll know where we are, specifically, or do you think they''ll just land wherever the fuck they want?" "Yeah, non, I''m not gambling on that one." "Yeah, I figured," I said. Well, it was time to call up the others and let them know that shit was being flung at the fan again. *** Chapter Sixty - Religious Exemption Chapter Sixty - Religious Exemption "While it isn''t the opinion of this author that removing governmental religious exemptions was one of the leading contributors to the fall of Old America, one must admit that the changes to the laws that gave religious organisations the ability to not pay taxes did coincide with other massive changes in the cultural and economic state of the Western world. However, I posit that the Corporate Tax Exemption--the laws allowing sufficiently large corporate entities to avoid taxation outright--was a far greater harbinger of the end of the Old American way." --Doctor C. Thumbs thesis on the Fall of Old America, 2046 *** "Okay, can everyone hear me?" I asked. "Mhm!" Grasshopper said. "You woke me up for this," Gomorrah replied. "Ah, yes?" came Tanket. "Affirmative," Hedgehog said. "Howdy there," Crackshot said. "We can both hear you here!" Princess said. And I didn''t need to glance over to Gros Baton next to me to know that he could hear me, even if he was still distracted by the last of his poutine. "Okay!" I said. "First, uh, sorry for waking you up or whatever." "I don''t mind," Princess said. I went on right past that. "But yeah, big news! Phobos isn''t out of the race just yet, but it sure as shit ain''t looking good." The monitor showed us the moon in all of its fucked up glory. Honestly, calling it a moon now was a lie. Phobos had given up the pretence of being a lost space rock and was just a fuck-big alien hive now with large chunks of moon being held around it like million-ton shields. Keiretsu drones were swarming around Phobos, and more of them were arriving every twenty minutes or so. Not to say that there weren''t any losses. Space around Phobos was also swarming with aliens. Little fliers zipping around, lumps of twitching alien matter, and a disturbing number of what looked like very organic ''spitting'' guns that were knocking out drones as they flew by. Even as I looked, a small chain of itty-bitty explosions ran across one of the bigger tentacles. They seemed tiny on the monitor, but I imagined that each one of those explosions was big enough to take out a house. We''d given Phobos a brown eye and knocked a few teeth loose, but that fucker was still coming. "Alright, so, time for an update," I said. "Go on, we''re listening," Grasshopper said. "The Tesla Collider went off right after we hit Phobos with a new type of round, and the moon kinda... exploded. Now it''s a big tentacle-y mess. The Keirestsu drones are messing it up as we speak. Since the innards are exposed, that means a lot of damage is being done directly to the hive." "Is it over then?" Gomorrah asked. "Or nearly over?" "I don''t think so. We''ve ripped off a full third of the moon, but that still leaves a neat fuckton of moon behind," I said. "And we''ve got new problems to worry about." "Oh boy," Princess said. "Yeah. So, Phobos didn''t seem happy about what we did to it, so it looks like the moon has flung shit our way. Here, I''ve got some imaging of the crap courtesy of our friends with all the drones. Since the Phobos... swarm is basically flying past the Keiretsu drone swarm, we''re getting some pretty good images. I think our AI can pretty much pinpoint exactly where everything is going." I shot an image onto the main screen, then fiddled with the attachment thing in our chat for a moment before figuring out how to send the same to the others. Our buddies were sending non-stop drones at this point. I think they were producing them at some stupid rate. Something like one new drone every five minutes or so. Maybe less. They were launching soon after being built. So that meant that there was a string of drones only a few minutes apart from Phobos to Earth. All of those had cameras and sensors on them, and long-ish ranged laser guns. They were intercepting the Phobos swarm, firing off into the heap as they shot by, then letting the next drone do the same. "That''s a lot of aliens," Grasshopper said. "Far less than an incursion, however." "Is it?" Crackshot asked. "Mhm!" Grasshopper replied. "I recall Stray Cat being in New Montreal during the last incursion there? Did you see it in person?" "Yeah," I said. I could distinctly remember the sky far above opening and aliens pouring out of the rifts by the thousands. "It''s not something I''m going to forget so easily. Not anytime soon. But uh, care to explain what you mean anyway?" A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. "Of course. From what I can see here, this swarm is mostly made up for perhaps four or five different models, most of them third tier and below, though they''re variants capable of space-flight. A normal incursion comes down with plenty more than this. And there''s a wider range of models, usually with a focus on models that can make landfall and immediately start building a hive. There are scouts and... for lack of a better term, construction models. The goal of an incursion, insofar as there is a goal we can understand, is to create a beachhead." "And this is different?" Gomorrah asked. "It does seem different," Hedgehog said. "This isn''t an incursion, it''s an offensive." "Yeah," I said. "No, here''s the tricky bit." I ran time forwards in the recording thing. It was all predictions from here, but they''d been made by the Nightwatchmen, and I trusted them to be pretty good about these. The swarm moved towards Earth, then split lightly. One large chunk went right at the Keitestsu''s orbital drone factory, another towards the Teslacollider, and the third, largest group, charged right past and came crashing down towards Earth. Specifically around North America. Even more specifically, towards the eastern end of North America." "Oh, that''s, uh, right on us, isn''t it?" Princess asked. "I was never good at geography, but I''m pretty sure that''s here." "Yup," I said, popping the ''p.'' "I don''t know how, but they know that we''re here, and they''re coming to mess us up." "What''s their ETA?" Hedgehog asked. He sounded a lot more alert now than when this started. "We''ve got a day," I said. "They''re still accelerating. I''ve got no idea how they''ll manage to survive hitting Earth''s atmosphere, but I figure if they can pinpoint our location then they''ve probably got a few tricks to not just burn up and land as a heap of ashes." "This is rather distressing," Gomorrah said. "What''s our next step, then?" "The fuck would I know?" I asked. "I''m just delivering the bad news." "You''ve had longer to think about it," she returned. "And I think we mostly trust your opinion... to a limited degree." "Well thanks for the vote of confidence," I said before I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose. I had a stress headache coming on. "Look... we''ve been handling Phobos on our own. I mean, for our region, at least. The Big Gun''s done what it needed to. We can keep on shooting at Phobos until it''s right on our doorstep because each shot peels a little more away and helps some. But this attack right on top of us? Yeah, I don''t see why that needs to be our problem alone." "You think we should get outside help?" Crackshot asked. "I''m sure some locals won''t mind helping. Emoscythe would certainly help." "Her, and anyone else that''s willing to help at all," I said. "There are a few others around New Montreal, yeah? Hell, there should be a lot of others around here. We can get some from elsewhere in too. The global incursion is calming down, isn''t it?" "We''ll have to involve the Family," Gomorrah said warningly. "Well, tell them that if they don''t help they''ll have to rebrand themselves into the Orphanage, because there won''t be enough survivors to call themselves a Family of anything," I said. Gomorrah chuckled darkly. "I''ll talk to them, then." "I know just about every samurai that lives around here," Grasshopper said. "I make a point of making contact with as many as I can, in case they need help. I can start sending little ''hellos'' to all of them, just in case." "That''d be nice," I said with a nod. "What else? Maybe... ah fuck, we''re going to need to put out a call on social media for anyone willing to help. And to warn people to keep their heads low for the next couple of days." "Not it," Princess said. "Same," Craskshot said. "Pas moi," Gros Baton added. "I''m not suited for that," Hedgehog said at the same time as Gomorrah said, "No." "Ah..." Tankette said as she was caught out. "I don''t know..." "That leaves Cat," Gomorrah said. I blinked. "No it the fuck does not," I snapped. "Tankette can help you, I''m sure." "Aren''t nuns supposed to be kind and helpful?" I asked. She was quiet for a few seconds. "My religion demands that I abstain from social media?" "No it doesn''t! You bitch!" I snapped. But it was too late, wasn''t it? That stress headache wasn''t going to disappear after all. *** Chapter Sixty-One - Lights! Camera! Bullshit! Chapter Sixty-One - Lights! Camera! Bullshit! "You should absolutely, under no circumstance, allow someone untrained in Public Relations do any of the talking when any number of cameras are involved." --Politics 101 Textbook, ninety second edition, 2029 *** I couldn''t decide if I was annoyed with the job or not. Why did I land with the ''be the face'' job? I was crass, rude, uneducated, and lazy. I didn''t want to be the one reaching out to others to get them to kick their ass into gear. But no, it had to fall on me. I could have been home right then, wearing nothing but a loose t-shirt, watching shitty reality-TV on a screen with more square feet than some apartments and with Lucy cozying up to me, but nope, the Earth needed saving and it fell on me to get the saviours to get their shit together. Bullshit. "You, uh, okay?" Gros Baton asked as he heard me muttering. "Yeah, yeah," I said with a dismissive wave. "I don''t know how to do social media shit. I mean, I''ve been scrolling since I''ve been old enough to swipe my thumb down, but I don''t know if that qualifies me for making posts, you know?" You could listen to music your whole life, but that didn''t mean you knew jack shit about playing it. Gros Baton didn''t seem to appreciate that distinction much as he just shrugged. "Fais juste de ton mieux. J''pense pas que tu peux vraiment tout fucker ?a." He grinned. "Dans le pire des cas, tire sur un autre maire ou quelque chose du genre. ?a va te remettre ¨¤ TV." Just do your best. I doubt you can fuck this up too much. Worse case scenario, shoot another mayor or something. That''ll get you on TV again. "Oh, fuck off," I mumbled. He was probably right, though. "Okay... right. What would work on me?" Would I pay attention to a news broadcast by a samurai? Probably, a little bit, if only because it was fun to see the material that would become memes later when it was still fresh. Shit, my brain really was rotted. Right, what would work beyond that? Just sitting at a table and talking into the camera would come off as honest, but also boring as balls. I needed to keep people''s attention. I sent out two texts, both with the same content¡ªone to Gomorrah, the other to Lucy. Would you be willing to wear a bikini on camera to save the world? I got two "No''s" within seconds of each other. They didn''t even ask for me to elaborate. So that plan was shot. Well, whatever. Hot chicks only worked on... honestly, a majority of the population, but if that failed, I''d need something more impressive. I looked around. We... were standing behind a kilometre long gun that shot into space. That was kinda badass. I nodded, then sent out another pair of texts. This time one was to the group chat, the other directly to Tankette. Hey, I need intimidating people to stand in the background of a video while looking cool. Volunteers? The message to Tankette was simpler. Can I borrow your tank for like, an hour? This time the replies were a little more positive. Princess and Knight were down for it. Hedgehog said he would show up, and Gros Baton was already right here. Tankette didn''t mind letting me use her tank at all. And Crackshot said that he could be over with Emoscythe within the next half hour. Gomorrah was busy, but once she caught on to what I was planning, she let me use her Fury which... well, it might get a certain demographic of car nuts to pay attention, at least. The next problem was making things seem natural. Sure, having half a dozen samurai was badass, but... we could just be standing there like a bunch of jumped-up dorks. That''d immediately look unnatural and stupid, and if there was one thing that a modern audience would pick up on, it was inauthenticity. Thankfully, while I busied myself moving my cat mech next to the Big Gun and placing it next to the Fury and Tankette''s mini-tank, two familiar faces popped up, and I instantly had an answer to my problem. That answer being ''make it someone else''s problem''. "Emoscythe!" I cheered as she and Crackshot walked across the compound. Emoscythe looked around the place, curious, but not seeming too impressed. She had been a samurai for a while, so this setup was probably nothing too spectacular for her. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. "It''s Emoscyhe Mordeath Noir," she reminded me, not unkindly. "And hell, Stray Cat. I see you''ve taken to wearing the outfit I helped you with." "Ah, yeah," I said. I was rocking that bounty-hunter samurai look. She, on the other hand, was in full-on gothic lolita, with a poofy yet rather short skirt with a wide fringe...thing. She looked one part French maid, one part sickly Victorian child, and with all of the chains and little skulls built into her dress, not to mention the sword by her hip, one part ''capable of fucking you up.'' "Hey, you''re the resident PR expert, right?" "I am," she said without an ounce of uncertainty. I glanced at Crackshot, who was smiling like... well, like one of those pictures of a golden retriever who''d just been given a bone. He looked normal otherwise, though I didn''t fail to notice that his cowboy hat had a little black skull pin on its band. "Cool cool. I need to set up this stream thing. I want to show off that we''re serious. How do I do that?" Emoscythe blinked, then looked over the scene. The others were mostly forming into small groups and chatting, but it was obvious that the scene wouldn''t hold. "Just let people do whatever they want. If they''re visible, then they''re visible. I''ll try to stay in frame if you wish it, but there''s no point in faking things if you can''t fake them well." "Yeah, people can always tell when things are fake," I agreed. "No, people can tell when the fake is cheaply done," Emoscythe corrected me. "There''s a point where the common person''s perception stops noticing things. But you won''t have to worry about that, I''m sure. What kind of camera are you using?" "Huh? Oh, I''ve got a cat drone around here somewhere. They have camera eyes, I think I can use one of those." Emoscythe did not look impressed. "No, absolutely not," she said. "One moment." She reached a hand out to the side and a box appeared over her splayed fingers. It was small, made of a dark, lacquered wood with thin insets of a lighter wood forming a sort of mandala pattern across the top that looked a bit like a skull if I squinted. The front had a nice, brassy looking clasp. It was, by far, the fanciest samurai order box I''d ever seen. Most of the time it was plastic with maybe a logo printed on, this was on a whole other level. She reached down the front of her dress, then tugged a small metal key out. It was on a long string that wrapped around her neck. I blinked, then tried not to think dirty thoughts as she fit the key into the box''s lock and twisted. The clasp came off with a click, and the top opened of its own volition. Out of it came... a doll. Not quite just a doll. Its ''face'' was a complex array of small cameras and sensors, all black gunmetal, but the rest of it was designed like a small victorian doll. It hovered up to eye level and floated there, staring at me... kind of menacingly. "This is a proper media drone," Emoscythe said. "The kind of thing I used to use when I had my drone phase." "Drone phase?" I asked. "We all have one," she said dismissively. "Its cameras are better than anything you can afford right now, so don''t be shy. And don''t worry, the footage will be downscaled to something appropriate for public consumption. We don''t need people learning about the random soldiers in the background by scanning one of their hairs from afar, do we?" Wait, what kind of resolution would allow for that? "Uh, okay," I said. "Thanks." Emoscythe walked over, then started to fiddle with my outfit. She adjusted my coat, tugged on my scarf a few times, even licked her fingers then ran them through my hair, which was kind of gross, but she was scary enough that I let her. "There," she said as she stepped back. "You could do with some makeup, but you''re never seen with any so it would ruin the illusion." "What do I say?" "Never mind that," she said. "You''re a samurai. As I was once told, our job is to say ''fuck it we ball'' and then do what we think is right. Rehearsal never helped that." She glanced at the drone. "You''re live in three." "What?" "Two." "Wait, serio--" The drone''s eyes lit up, and I froze for a second. Then my well-honed bullshittery reflexes kicked in. "Hey, assholes. Just a friendly head''s up; Earth is about to be blown the fuck up in... t-minus not very long, so listen up." *** SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner: Cassy the Clowns Big Top Bonanza, by FullAutoAlice You are questioning my sanity? I¡¯m not the one standing in an incursion zone in a 1-credit flak jacket, holding a microphone. Potato King; Los Angeles Incursion, ground zero. Said to a reporter while he loaded a glowing green potato into his signature homemade PVC cannon. ** ¡°Who throws a pie at a plant monster?¡± Cassandra cried in her head as she ran down the empty halls of the community centre. Her oversized shiny red clown shoes slapping against old, but clean, linoleum. A four legged plant, with whipped cream falling from its face, rounded the corner of the hall not far behind her. Losing its grip on the polished floor it slammed into the wall with a flurry of scrabbling legs and a bang, embedded slightly into the thin drywall. Causing young Cassy to start in surprise, and let out a small squeak of terror. Deciding that racing a killer plant down a long hallway was not on her agenda today. Cassy turned quickly, and almost copied the antithesis, nearly going top over tea kettle. She barely managed to stay mostly upright by hopping on one foot. She booked it for the stairs. "Maybe they are bad at stairs!¡± She hoped in her mind. Cassandra had somehow forgotten about the very large, very awkward, very shiny, apple red shoes adorning her feet. She barely managed to make it down the first dozen steps before one glossy toe hooked on a pleat in her oversized, but amusing, pantaloons. Cassy careened cacophonously down the stairs, clattering off of corners, and generally having a bad time. Her descent was stopped rather abruptly when she encountered something far softer and much squelchier than the concrete stairs and their steel railings. It gave way before her with some very awful splattering and squirting sounds. Cassy found herself battered and a little bruised pressed up against the metal stair railing, covered in a rather unpleasant and sticky mess. It reminded her muddled mind of when she¡¯d brought balloons full of flavoured gelatin to the water fight last summer. She had no desire to taste this goop though, it smelled rather awful, like a pile of week old grass clippings. ¡°Greetings Vanguard! Congratulations on your first kill! My name is Bartholymu. Might I recommend you get moving. The one you pied in the face is still coming¡± Dumbstruck, Cassy just sat there, staring at her painstakingly handmade clown outfit. Days of hunting down the brightest colours of fabric she could find. Hours of learning to sew, and the pricked finger tips to show for it. Now a rumpled and torn mess, covered in plant guts. And she had a voice in her head! Was she was a samurai now? No no no no no. Cassy was a clown. Cassy was going to bring them back into popularity. It had been her life¡¯s goal since she found the archival footage buried in the meshl! The world was in chaos, there was an apocalypse on! People needed laughter, parties, and balloon animals! And whip cream pies thrown at them, and dunk tanks, and joy buzzers, and, and, and¡ Her mind spiralled trying to make sense of it all, visions of circus tents whirling in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m an entertainer!¡± She cried out in the stairwell. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to bring light and joy! I¡¯m not a crazy Samurai, I¡¯m not a killing machine¡¡± She trailed off, a hiccup of a sob was followed by tears forming in the corners of her eyes. ¡°Why not both?¡± her new brain dweller responded. ¡°You should probably get moving if you want to do either one though¡ pie boy is coming!¡± Sure enough, there it was. Just rounding the corner of the stairs. All but the last drips of whipped cream gone from its strange planty head. ¡°Weapon! Weapon! I need a weapon!¡± She mumbled out as she tried to push herself further from the creature. ¡°What sort of weapon, I have a number of¡¡± ¡°Anything¡± Cassy hollered out ¡°Anything I can smack that thing with¡± She continued, as she managed to pull herself back to her feet. One sock and one scuffed red shoe slipping in the mess around her.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. A solid weight materialised with a burst of confetti into Cassys hand. Gripping the shaft with two hands she swung it hard at the creature as it leapt at her. It smacked solidly into the vile things cranium, sending it careening off over the railing. Cassy looked tentatively down at what she held in her hands, it appeared to be a large hammer, like the ones from the carnival strength challenge game, wooden, and brightly coloured, with a ring of stars at each end. ¡°Did, did um, I hear a cartoonish Bo-oi-oing sound on impact?¡± She asked the voice in her head. ¡°You did! I thought it was very on brand. Cost an extra point. Totally worth it if I do say so myself. Why? You don¡¯t like it?¡± Cassandra stared down and the hammer gripped tightly in her hands. Her breath came faster. Images of the past half hour roiling in her head. Arriving early, her excitement as she set up her booth for the penny carnival, the anticipation of the smiles and laughter, she was going to bring such joy! Then, the alarms went off, there were plant monsters. A whip cream pie launched in panicked surprise sliding down a fibrous face¡ ¡°Like it?¡± She gasped out, holding the hammer out at arms length, gripped tightly in two hands. ¡°I love it!¡± Cassy the Clown''s face split into an almost rictus grin, but not too rictus, that might scare the audience, her frightened demeanour seemed to melt away. Putting the hammer to her shoulder she stared over the railing at the broken but still squirming antitheses. ¡°What else you got in your bag of tricks Barty? Anything to fix up this suit of mine? I seem to be missing a shoe¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you have finished panicking Vanguard. Allow me to take you through some options¡± ¡°Me? Panic? Never.¡± She scoffed with a guffaw, while striding confidently down the stairs. ¡°I was just lulling them into a false sense of security¡± Setting her stance wide, she hefted her hammer and brought it crashing down hard, finishing off the struggling plant. It released another loud boi-oi-oing as it bounced back from the ground, spinning her for a tight circle before she regained her footing. ¡°I like it Barty. More and more and more. Now, what do you have in longer range options? I¡¯m thinking maybe combat confetti cannons?¡± Cassy the Clown grinned a manic grin as her new best friend began to excitedly list options. ***** Several hours later a trio of armoured SUVs pulled up out front of the community centre. PMC members doing cleanup sweeps of the neighbourhood after the incursion. They pushed open the doors and rapidly formed up in a well disciplined formation to secure the front atrium, expecting the worst, as they usually would find. The sight that greeted their eyes however, had them pausing in shock and confusion. The foyer was a mess, not with bullet holes, or scorch marks, or craters, or the other many signs of an incursion. It was covered in candy coloured chaos, what looked like whipped cream was smeared across the floor, up the walls, and dripping in glops from the ceiling. Whip cream that apparently could dissolve plant tissue. If that¡¯s what the slowly shrinking and sizzling mounds inferred. Smelled a bit like cotton candy. Confetti with razor sharp edges lay scattered about. Mixed with the cream, and embedded in every available surface. The air sparkled with multi-hued glitter. It caught in the back of the commander''s throat. ¡°Masks on,¡± He called out, and the squad in unison donned heavy duty full face gas masks. Moving amongst it all, were two foot tall balloon animals. Cleaning supplies clutched clumsily in soft rubbery limbs. Slowly, and rather awkwardly, doing their best to get the mess strewn on the floor, walls, and ceiling, pushed into a comically large black garbage bag that was making happy chewing sounds, bouncing cheerily all the while. ¡°Um captain?¡± One of the grunts began. ¡°What the actual, sir?¡± Another commented quietly, staring at an object being dragged by a balloon giraffe. ¡°Are those googly eyes on a No. 5s head?¡± The captain held up a hand motioning for silence and pulling out his radio. ¡°Command, do we have reports of any Samurai in the area?¡± His radio began to squawk back at him, but whatever was being said was drowned out by the sounds of honking horns, dinging bells, and clanging symbols. Coming down the hallway was a girl on a bike. She was dressed in oversized clothes of every colour imaginable. Polka dots, stripes, and random shapeless splotches warring for dominance from head to toe. Bright curly red and blue hair shot up in a pair of massive floofy pony tails that bounced behind her. Driving the pedals were a pair of the biggest, brightest, shiniest, apple red clown shoes to ever shine brightly. Her face was plastered in a massive, almost frightening, grin, her sparkling white teeth ringed by bright red paint, her face covered in thick white cake makeup. Her hazel eyes sparkled gleefully in the centre of blue diamonds. The bike was right out of a children''s book. One perhaps written with far too many rhymes, like foxes in boxes. Its paint job, loud and chaotic, an assault on the eyes. It had a swooping curvy metal frame, random doodads and whatsits hanging off of it at every possible place and angle. It was adorned with an array of bright squeezy horns honking, and shiny metal bells dinging. Standing proudly off the front were a trio of cymbals, clanging away to an unknown rhythm. Trailing behind on a curvy hitch was what could only be described as a child''s drawing of a pie throwing machine made real. A rabbit shaped balloon animal sitting in a gunner''s seat at its centre. ¡°Heya boys! What¡¯s shaking? Can I give you a hand?¡± The strange young woman hollered boisterously. Before striding over and vigorously shaking the dumbstruck captain''s hand. She turned around, putting hands to hips and proudly watched her inflatable minions at work. The captain stared mutely at her back. Still holding the fake white gloved hand she left behind. ¡°Samurai¡¡± He said softly as his shoulders slumped. ¡°I wonder if any of them are sane.¡± Chapter Sixty-Two - Cat Out of the Bag Chapter Sixty-Two - Cat Out of the Bag "Holy shit, guys, have you seen this? No no, it''s on the stream, look, some samurai took it over? Another? Oh, fuck, they''re on all the streams, this is big shit! Wait, wait, did she just say that Earth is gonna be destroyed?" --Reaction Andy Dandy, livestream, 2057 *** I swallowed and tried not to let it show when Myalis filled the edges of my vision with the kind of information that the average streamer would die for. Viewership numbers, lists of channels and streams I was on, even a few rapidly-scrolling chats that were moving too quickly for me to read anything. At least I could easily pick out the generic ?? emojis. Another small box showed me what the world was seeing. It was... me. Well, my helmeted face, at least. It was a cool helmet but it was also rather... faceless? There was no expression there. So, to start things off right while the viewership numbers were still climbing so fast that the ticker looked like it might spin itself out of control, I reached up and removed my helmet. The entire time I was aware that the camera was catching sight of the others in the background. Tankette was by her tank, but also by Hedgehog who''d just arrived. She was tugging his uniform back on straighter and had licked her thumb to wipe a smudge off of his face. He seemed rather off put by the whole thing, but wasn''t fighting her off any. From the corner of my eye, I could see Emosythe next to Crackshot. They were both listening as Princess pointed to the Big Gun and gestured at a bunch of things. My helmet came off, and I casually let it fall before running a hand through my hair. It was that fancy new tech hair, which was honestly just cheating. I had always liked having longer hair, but as a one-armed cripple that shit was hard to maintain. Lucy had always helped me get the knots out and brush it down. She liked doing it, and it wasn''t like her own frizzy mop of hair was easily brushable. This tech hair shit? Yeah, it just fell into place, curled just right, bangs where they ought to be and not a knot in sight. It was bullshit and proof that Myalis'' space buddies were also bullshit. No one wearing a helmet for so long should remove it to perfect hair. "Alright," I said as I looked back into the camera. I''d given myself thirty whole seconds to get my thoughts in order and I''d spent none of them actually thinking. Go me. "So, as I was saying... you might have noticed if you''re the sort of dork to stare at the stars, but Mars is fucked. Planet''s been overrun by aliens for a bit." The chat sped up at that, and now the cat emotes were joined by little red circles. "So, buncha top-tier samurai went over to Mars to clear it out, because we can''t have the next nearest planet be covered in shit that needs killing. So far, all good yeah? But then the aliens flung Phobos--that''s one of Mars'' moons--at us." I pointed with a thumb over my shoulder. "That''s the Big Gun. It''s a kilometre long railgun. It fires bullets the size of a man''s head so fast you need scientific notation to write the speed down through a portal at the end of the barrel and out of another portal slapped on the side of a spaceship. It''s fucking rad as hell." I nodded, because what else was I supposed to do? "Anyway, we''re not the only samurai that have been fucking Phobos up, but I''ll let the others talk for themselves. Look, things were going alright for a good chunk of time here. We were messing Phobos up, cracking it apart bit by bit. Sure, it''s a moon-sized mess of tentacles and hate, but we were fucking it up like a back alley mugger caught by the cops. Actually, we''re still messing it up." I started to walk, because it gave me something to do. No clue what I was supposed to do with my arms and hands, so I let them dangle uselessly by my side. The camera panned along with me, its creepy doll thing shifting as it caught Princess, Emoscythe and Crackshot in the background, then Knight standing an awkward few steps past them. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. "Phobos has mostly been fucked over. We should all be safe... ish. If things keep on the way they are, most of it will miss Earth and the rest will burn up on entry. So yeah, you''re welcome. Except the alien fuck living in the moon just flung a whole shit load of fliers our way. We''ve got... Myalis, what''s the ETA?" Approximately sixteen hours. Huh, that was a decent chunk of time. "We''ve got sixteen hours or so before they start entering Earth''s atmosphere. They probably won''t burn up on entering because they''re made for this shit. We''ll kill plenty, but we''re mostly focused on Phobos at the mom--." I frowned, and almost went on when I got a ping. I''d gotten a text. From Lucy. I blinked as I opened it. Lucy: Do you prefer this one? Lucy: Or do you like this one better? Lucy: Img...1 Img...2 "Hmm? Oh, sorry, I got a text from my girlfriend," I said to the camera with a dismissive little wave. I opened the two attachments, and they both filled my vision. "Oh." I felt my cheeks warming up before I carefully saved both images and closed them. Lucy had found some bikinis after all. They were cat-themed. She had a tail. "Uh... right, so, uh." I coughed into a fist. "Aliens are going to rain down from the sky to eat everyone. Which is the important thing we should all be focusing on. Stop posting blush emotes you fucks," I snapped. I wasn''t blushing. "Some of you are going to die horrifically and I really wouldn''t mind it all that much, but I happen to care for some people so I''d like to avoid that if possible." I needed to get shit back on track. Fortunately, Gros Baton poked his head out of the Big Gun''s command centre. "Yo! We''re gonna shoot the black hole," he said. I gave him a thumb''s up. "Cool! Lemme know how that goes. Uh... right, for the rest of you. If you''re a samurai in North America, keep an eye on the skies? We think that the aliens are mostly aiming for around this area here, to take out our Big Gun. So what I''m saying is that if you''ve got the time and the inclination not to turn into plant food, then... contact Gomorrah at this number!" I waited for a moment. Nothing happened. "Myalis, for fuck''s sake, put Gomorrah''s contact information on the screen." Oh, fine. The information appeared on the screen at about the same time as I got a text from Gomorrah. It was two words, one of which was very un-nun-like. I chuckled to myself, then stopped when I realized that probably made me look like a creep. "Anyway. World''s fucked, but we''re working on it, so give us a few and don''t lose your shit. I mean, in the worst case scenario we fail and then you won''t have to worry about anything anymore, right?" The Big Gun started to hum behind me, and I paused, not looking its way as the gun fired. All along the edges of the gun, steam came spitting out of the vents built into the sides of the barrel and there was a crack-thoom that made my hair stand on end. I nodded. "Yeah, anyway, Stray Cat, out. Good luck out there." I saluted, then ended the video. The total viewership was in the mid two-digit millions. I took a breath, and when I let it out it was a little shaky. Fuck, that was bigger than the entire population of New Montreal. And I just knew that more people would be watching recordings of that whole thing after. "You okay?" Gros Baton asked. "Yeah, I''m fine," I said. I shook my head to clear it, then reopened those pictures that Lucy had sent me. She had to know they were arriving mid-stream, right? Unless she''d been distracted and didn''t know. Either way, I felt like I ought to go see her about now... before the adrenaline wore off... and before she changed out of that. I deserved some amount of stress relief, as a treat, right? Of course, Gomorrah chose that moment to call me, and it was clearly a group chat meant for all of us. I groaned. Maybe we could just let the world end, then no one would ever have to deal with team meetings ever again. *** Interlude - Stay At Home PR Manager/GF Interlude - Stay At Home PR Manager/GF "Wow, there are a lot of haters out there," Lucy said. She shifted, reaching down to rub at her calf where it was a little itchy. The motion caught the eye of the other person in the room who looked, then immediately snapped her attention away. "Are they saying anything about Delilah?" Lucy grinned. It was just her and Franny in her and Cat''s bedroom. Fortunately the room was massive, and they''d snuck a couch in next to the kid''s pool in the corner with a good view of a big-screen TV Lucy had acquired with her discretionary funds. Those funds came from her efforts to fundraise and raise money for the Burlington branch of the Kittens, who were actually doing very well. She was slowly allowing the group to expand into New Montreal. That meant appointing managers--of a sort--and arranging both online and IRL meetups and discussion groups. It was fun busy work, and it was giving her a pretty nice chest of spending money. A lot of corporations were willing to throw money at the cause. Lucy suspected that it was because they thought it would get them in Catherine''s good graces. She accepted the money and promptly forgot everything about those giving it to her. Morons. "You wanna see if people are talking shit about your girl too?" Lucy asked. Franny frowned. "No," she lied. Lucy smiled, all teeth. Their nun friends might have had a posh education in their little nun-house, but they lacked some vital skills, like how to lie or properly hide their feelings. "Don''t worry, they''re not being too mean. I saw her name pop up here and there, but not too much. I think people just associate her with Cat." "I suppose. They are samurai partners," Franny said. She shifted in her seat. It was a simple single-person seat with a few plump cushions on it. Franny sat on it as if it was a pew while she worked hard not to look Lucy''s way. If Lucy were a more vindictive, evil woman, she''d flaunt her stuff some more, but there was only so much teasing she could do before even she started to feel bad. "Might you please consider putting something on?" Franny asked. "Oh, fine," Lucy said. She was getting a little cold. And while being all chilled and perky was fun for sending pics to Cat, it was less than comfortable after a while. She padded across the room and plucked a clean-enough shirt off the floor. It was her old Cat''s Got My Tongue shirt. One of her favourites. She pulled it on, then returned to the couch, but not before grabbing a blanket from the foot of the bed to wrap herself in. "Omph," she said as she flopped onto the couch. "Okay, did I miss anything?" "In the thirty seconds it took you to cross the room?" Franny asked. "Hey, this is the internet, shit moves fast." Lucy blinked, and with a small gesture she brought up a dozen screens across her vision. Without a Myalis to cheat for her, she had to arrange things on her own. She''d gotten a few programs to help sort and moderate chats, and now she was using those to pause the live feeds to catch a glimpse of what people had said. It was thankless work, of course, so she didn''t plan on doing any more than the bare minimum. Honestly though, she didn''t expect that reading even a thousandth of what had been said would be necessary. She was in the middle of said work (after teasing Cat with those bikini pics of course) when Franny showed up to help handle the media side of things. There wasn''t really much they could actively do, but keeping abreast of people''s opinions might be valuable moving forwards. Lucy needed to know which memes to capitalise on for maximum success. [User: Alia, Anxiety Prone] THE ALIENS ARE COMING! ?????? [User: WakiestWombat] Can a cow fit into the railgun? Cows a % of c please! [User: Freija] Why does Stray Cat have perfect hair? AAAAAA [User: TwiTwiTwi] #SpaceHair [User: OneOfTheSols] RIP Phobos [User: Bobble] RIP Phobos, you were a good moon [User: FeralSlider] Flung Phobos at Earth? How??? [User: BlazeBrightly] Yooo, that''s a big gun! [User: ShortFused] Kilometre-long railgun? #WTF [User: DiceyFrew] She''s blushing! [User: MythologicalSelkie] Bets on what that message had? [User: PrinceofHemlock] Show us the GF pics! [User: S''tella] The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.Lmao, gay [User: FanaticalFirefly] "Big Gun." Solid name. Very creative. Definitely didn''t name it last minute. [User: WhoNow] Aliens are coming and soon so is cat! [User: HarpingLili] I''m looking up and I don''t see aliens #AnotherConspiracy [User: SaneMika] I think it''s sweet that her GF texted her <3 [User: MamaGoose] #CatforMayor [User: Cammie D. Sprite] One railgun Vs. One Angy moon? "Hmm, yup, the people on the internet are all weirdos," Lucy said. "That''s not very kind to say," Franny replied. Lucy scrolled up a little. "This one here wants to eat Cat''s hair... and this other one wants to lick her toes. Even I don''t want to do that, and I''ve definitely licked her before." "Ah," Franny said. "I think I''ve just started to naturally filter those kinds of replies out." "Like ads," Lucy said. "Exactly," Franny replied. "Just get so used to them that you barely perceive them at all. I don''t know if that''s healthy or not, to be honest." "Oh, definitely not," Lucy said with a sardonic laugh. "But whatever. Overall, it looks pretty positive?" She moved her arm across the air before her a few times, resorting her various feeds. She had no idea how Cat had managed to be on so many sites at once. At least, initially. Back when Catherine had murdered the mayor, the news was only carried by a few local news channels, but then it had been picked up by a bunch of bigger ones, meme sites, and aggregators before finally the react streamers got in on it and spread it even further out. This though? This was being streamed on every major steaming platform, right at the top of their pages, it interrupted live news broadcasts too. Lucy initially expected people to comment on it. It was rather funny to see newscasters jump and try to handle the screens behind them switch out to Cat''s stream, especially with her opening. The AI newscasters were a lot more confused, some of them still looping through the story they''d been covering before. The stream had also shown up on TV, but Lucy didn''t know anyone who actually watched TV anymore, so it was kind of just a weird footnote. Her sorting ended with roughly four piles. At the top left, the most ignorable streams and older forums. The reactions there were muted, though a few of the more scienc-y bunch were going on and on about the Big Gun and its implications. That''s also where she shoved the political echo-chambers. They were already working to try and spin the whole thing against each other, but their memes had stopped being funny thirty years ago. In the top right, she placed the celebrity stuff. Media aggregators and influencer dumps, as well as all the hangouts for the big paparazzi chains. The chats there were split between gushing at the samurai that showed up in the background, speculating about Cat''s lovelife, and yapping about hair, clothes, and possible new fashion trends. The bottom left was for the people freaking out about the end of the world. It was a small chunk of the overall number, and yet she couldn''t decide if that was a disturbing fact or if it being the largest chunk would make it worse. Finally, the bottom right of her vision was filled with reaction Andies. Streamers and quick-media platforms that usually specialised in small, high-dopamine content. They were in it for the spectacle. It was also the corner where Lucy started to sort through the most memes. The meme trends were wild at the moment because Cat had unwisely fed them all with so much to work with. "T-Minus Not Very Long" was doing great on some of the more wargamer-ish sites and was on T-shirts already. People were talking about a huge jump in tech-hair prices, and images of Cat''s cute blush were all over. She''d hate that. But memes made the world go round, and memes pushing things from the mainstream core of the internet and deeper into the mesh, where the permanently-online sequestered themselves. Memes were like... rain, Lucy imagined. No matter how deep someone was in the underbelly of things, they always found a way to leak through the ceiling and leave mould on the walls. Or something like that. She''d workshop the analogy some more. "Hey, are you hungry?" she asked. "Me? I suppose," Franny said. "Cool! You can help me cook something up for Cat, I need to talk to her, and food distracts her better than anything else. Plus I want to give the rule thirty-four artists some time to cook." Franny sighed. "Of course you do." *** Chapter Sixty-Three - Cat Called Chapter Sixty-Three - Cat Called "The history of telemarketing stretches all the way back to the early days of the Bell telephone, where only the eccentric and rich could afford a phone of their own and therefor they made for great targets for sales pitches and cold calls. As history progressed, the phone became an ubiquitous part of human society. It''s no surprise that ads vectored in throught that medium continue to be popular to this day." --On Advertising, 2nd ed. 2049 *** Gomorrah was not happy with me. I could tell, because she very pointedly removed her facemask so that I could get an unobstructed view of her glare. Also, the first thing she said when she arrived was "I''m not happy with you." "Did you get a lot of calls?" I asked. "I had to get an answering machine catalogue," Gomorrah said. "Your little prank has cost me fifty points." "Oops?" I said. I wasn''t actually remorseful, but I could pretend to be guilty like the best of them. "But hey, some of those calls are good, right?" She sighed, but nodded. It had been a couple of hours since my broadcast. Most of us here were just chilling around the Big Gun, cheering whenever it went off and taking in the occasional update from Gros Baton about the progress around Phobos. Things were actually looking up on that front. Phobos had been fucked up pretty hard, and it wasn''t being allowed to recover at all. The constant swarm of drones were leaving their mark. Death by ten million cuts was still death, and we were helping by ramming the moon with the occasional miniature black hole or web of monofilament. The points we were earning helped too, though it wasn''t all that much all things considered. A nice, steady trickle every fifty-odd minutes. I''d seen some images of the moon. It was fully split now, and some of the bigger chunks didn''t even have tentacles keeping them together. Keiretsu drones with large thrusters were pushing the bits apart. It looked like they were moving at a snail''s pace, but that didn''t matter. It would be enough for those chunks to miss Earth entirely. A one degree change so far out meant a whole lot to us down here. The next use of the Teslacollider would probably be the finishing blow. We''d crush what was left of Phobos, and then all that would remain was the clean-up. So, in a way, we''d won. Woo. Hurrah. All that jazz. Actually, sarcasm aside, the mood was pretty upbeat. Princess and Knight were prattling along to Emoscythe. Tankette was taking care of a food tent nearby, wielding a ladle like a king might a sceptre. Crackshot and Hedgehog were close to the entrance of the Big Gun''s control room, close enough for Gros Baton to join in on their conversation. I had listened in for a bit, and... it was really disgusting the kinds of things guys would start talking about when there wasn''t a woman around. Not that I would start flinging stones from my glass house or anything. The area was starting to fill up as well. The idea of keeping the Big Gun secret had flown out the window with my broadcast. There was too much background stuff. Some geoguesser would spot two trees and know the exact coordinates down to the centimetre. It was only a matter of time. So if secrecy was out the window, then the best protection came from numbers, and that meant a huge influx of troops. Major Tinwhistle''s engineers had gotten back to work, setting up barracks and defences. The ground was being reinforced and extra concrete was being poured out into moulds for barricades. The order of the day was AA. The incoming swarm was made up of fliers. Gunning them down before they hit the ground or even got close was our best bet for keeping the Big Gun and the area around it safe. "We received some calls from several local samurai," Gomorrah said. "And several from some that aren''t as local. I''ve gotten offers from some less-close samurai as well. Dreamer and Teddy from Calgary, Grey Goo, Myriad, Bloodhound, Magpie, Xenovir, Hard Rain, GroundWire, Speed Demon, Cassy the Clown and several others from Big Top, Gaea, Legion...the list goes on. I''ve also gotten some... unhappily-worded messages from the Family saying that they''ll be willing to assist us with the logistics." "Logistics?" I asked. "What sort? Are we going to be spreading people out?" "Ideally, yes. It looks like this will be the epi-centre of the... pseudo-incursion, but antithesis will be landing all across this hemisphere." Gomorrah reached up and rubbed her nose. "It''s a lot. We need to cover a huge area. There might be a few samurai that can do that, but they''re not around, so scattering as many samurai as possible makes sense." Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. "Alright," I said with a nod. "And the Family''s taking charge of that?" "They are. And I''m looking over every one of their choices now. They''re annoyed that we didn''t give them a proper head''s up and forty-eight hours of lead-time before dropping that announcement." Well, at least she was saying ''we'' and implicating herself in the whole mess. "They do understand that forty-eight hours is too late, right?" "Does logic and common sense ever stop you from being irritated by something?" she asked. I didn''t have to think about it for long. "No," I admitted. "That''s a fair point. But you''d think they''d be better. Plus it''s like, a whole-ass company. We''re talking about them like they''re one person." "Sometimes it''s just like that," Gomorrah said, and she didn''t elaborate any before sending me a message. I opened it without checking. If Gomorrah was sending me viruses and shit then I would be in a rough shape already. It opened to a map of our hemisphere, centred more or less on where the Big Gun was located. There were pins all across it in an array of colours with little icons next to them indicating who was where. There was a grasshopper for Grasshopper, a tank for Tankette, a crown for Princess and so on. We were all squished in so close together that there was some serious overlap in the icons. There were also, I noticed, ''ghost'' icons. Those were sometimes linked to a more solid copy of the same. "Are these location markers?" I asked. The ghost icons and the rest were scattered across a wide area. Most of the northern end of the country and a lot beyond as well. Even some over the bigger lakes and out in the ocean. "That''s where the Family wants people. Each location forms the meeting point of a set of three equilateral triangles. So we''ll be equally distant from each other except for a few areas of high importance, like right here." "Makes sense," I said. Then I took in the scale of things. "How many points are there on here?" "Not including the areas of greater importance? A hundred and twelve." "That''s not a lot of points," I said. Not for the amount of area we had to cover, which was massive. "We don''t have a lot of samurai," she said. "Oh," I said. Right, this was all-hands on deck in a big way. Then the map updated and I noticed the triangles getting very slightly smaller, and some icons already hovering over their designated locations were being asked to move inwards. "Did we just get more?" I asked. "This is with the current crop of volunteers," Gomorrah said. "And then, only those that are explicitly working with the Family. I''m, or rather Atyacus, is working to keep in contact with those that called me directly who aren''t affiliated and who don''t want to be. That''s only a dozen or so samurai, so far." "Makes sense. I''d be more willing to call someone directly than deal with a corp I don''t trust in their shoes." "Yes, it turns out that your fumbling around actually had some benefits." "As planned," I said. Gomorrah crossed her arms. "No. Not as planned. I refuse to believe that. In fact, I know otherwise. If anything, this is me looking very hard for a silver lining to your goofing up." I laughed. "Sorry," I said. "So, are we stationed right here?" "This is where it might be worse," Gomorrah said. "And where we''ll make the most points for defending," I said. "And where we literally have an army and no one civilian-like around for kilometres. We can afford to go all out." "And we''ll need to," Gomorra said. "What have you prepared so far?" "Uh," I said. Her eyes narrowed. "You have spent the last two hours or so preparing, right, Catherine?" "How upset would you be if I did nothing but fuck around and chat instead?" I asked. "Not upset. Disappointed." "Ah," I said. "Well, that''s no fun. But it''s also the truth, so at least you know that I''m honest with you?" "You''re nothing but a pest, Catherine," she said. "We need AA set up, and soon. I''m thinking several larger guns. We need the ability to strike at small, distant targets. These enemies will have come through the atmosphere, so they''ll either be weakened, or they''re so tough that it didn''t slow them down and that''ll mean a whole other level of problem." I nodded. She was right, we were dealing with mid-twenties enemies here, probably. These weren''t model ones with a few burnt up feathers. They''d be genuine threats. "I''m sure we can get something going that''ll give them all a proper Earthly welcome." She nodded. "Good. Then we need to get ready to deal with those that survived the landing and any hives they might awaken on the way down." "We''re not finishing this tonight, are we?" *** Chapter Sixty-Four - Anti-Antithesis-Anti-Air Chapter Sixty-Four - Anti-Antithesis-Anti-Air "Orbital defences aren''t an option anymore. They''re a necessity. I understand that there are political frictions involved with planting weapons past low Earth orbit, but for the safety and security of our nation and people, we must prepare to receive the alien threat as far from land as possible, and that means installations in outer space!" --General Whitacker to the US Congress, 2023 *** "Hey, boss, what''s the plan?" Gros Baton asked, leaning lazily against the doorframe of the Big Gun''s command room. His call had caught the attention of the others. I looked around. We were all here, it seemed, with one extra, even in the form of Emoscythe. Tankette was still making her way over while wiping her hands on a small tank-patterned towelette. She was close enough to hear, though. A quick check of my augs showed me that we were a few minutes shy of six in the evening. When had the time flown? Also, had I skipped lunch? I couldn''t remember if I''d eaten anything since that poutine earlier, and that was like, overnight. Right, people were expecting shit from me, and I couldn''t just sit here and bitch about being hungry, even if I really wanted to. "Alright boys, girls and Grasshopper," I said. Grasshopper giggled, so I figured that one had landed. "We''ve got more news, which sucks because I''m tired of this constant cycle of having to deliver news, then something weird happening, then having to deliver more news again right after. It''s a boring circle. Fortunately, the boring circle will be busted up soon. The Family has their panties all knotted up, but I think they''re getting their shit together too. They''re laying out a grid of samurai to keep an eye on the skies and knock the aliens down." "A grid?" Hedgehog asked. "What kind, and what are our numbers?" I checked the thing Gomorrah had sent me. "We''re up to a hundred and forty-eight samurai volunteering, which is pretty decent. The spacing is... awful. We''re covering the entire hemisphere, which means a lot of space between points on the grid. The bigger cities mostly have locals staying in them to keep them safe, and they usually have their own AA so there''s that." "There are hardly all that many cities in this hemisphere," Crackshot said. "I reckon NM''s the biggest here, then Quebec to the east and a few more south of us, but the north is wide open. The west has some pretty big gaps too." "It''s a problem, yeah," I agreed. "The nice thing is that no one sane lives in the north, so fuck it. If the aliens crash there, that''s on them. They can eat snow or whatever." "They''ll need to be taken care of," Grasshopper said. "Just because a problem isn''t right in front of you doesn''t mean that it doesn''t exist. The antithesis will have to be dealt with, even if they''re not landing right on top of us." "Well, that''s where we''re lucky," I said. "Because they definitely are landing right on top of us. Got the projections from our German pals. They did the maths and we''re right smack-dab in the centre of the shitshow, and it''s probably safe to say that this is where most of the aliens will be coming. We have almost a day before it''s raining plants." "So what''s the plan?" Gros Baton asked. He pointedly looked up to the sky, where it was a bit overcast. "Tire le ciel?" "If Phobos is already fucked, we can probably use the Big Gun a few times to shoot into the swarm," I said. "Does Earth have any orbital defences?" "A few, yes," Gomorrah said. "There are some stations in orbit that belong to various samurai. You''ll recall Deus Ex''s station." "That''s the kind of thing I was thinking about, yeah," I said. I could still remember just... going into space on one of Deus Ex''s planes and arriving at her station. I was pretty sure it was in low Earth orbit, not space, but I was also sure that I was the last person that should be discussing the difference between one and the other. "Her station had guns on it, right?" "She''s taken it to Mars," Gomorrah said. "Wow, top-tier samurai are amazing," Princess said. "Yeah, it''s a whole other thing," I agreed. "And Deus Ex isn''t the only samurai with a station, right? There has to be more? And if they left them behind, then that might knock some aliens out before they hit the atmo." If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "I wouldn''t gamble on a few stations being enough," Hedgehog said. "Though this entire incursion and the Phobos situation might be the last kick that the governments and corps need to start building real orbital defences. They''ve been talking about it for thirty years." "Budget issues?" I asked. He nodded. "That and public perception. Some people said that the orbital stations would be used for mind-control and I don''t think the smarter people out there had the time or patience to correct the idiot majority." "Ah, that''s rough," I said. It always sucked when the conspiracy theorists got in the way of progress. And it sucked extra hard when they turned out to be right. "So were there really mind control systems that were gonna be put on those orbital stations?" Hedgehog gave me an unamused look. "They were to assist with advertising. They''re not mind control." "Uh-huh," I said. "Anyway, setting that aside. I think that whatever we have in orbit can help, but it''s unlikely to be anywhere near enough to completely stop us from being attacked on the ground. I''m not even sure if any AA we buy will be enough." "To add to that," Grasshopper said. "It''s very probable that on entering the atmosphere, the antithesis will scatter signal pheromones. That might well trigger any still-dormant hives into awakening, but the last global incursion might have actually saved us there." "How so?" I asked. She gestured vaguely around us. "Because most hives were already awakened by similar means." Which meant that they were already attacking or had been wiped out. The Phobos antithesis wouldn''t find too many locals to help them, but just because we''d wiped out a number didn''t mean that we''d taken them all out. This entire expedition had started as a way to go out and cull more and there was no lack of the fuckers around. "Okay, so we''re going to have to shoot them down, then probably deal with a local surge or something?" I asked. "That sounds accurate," Gomorrah said. "Since we have time to prepare for it, we might be able to gain additional support from New Montreal to defend this area." "More troops?" I asked. She nodded. "And artillery. We''re within range of the bigger pieces in the city, and well within range of any of the missile launch systems." "Right," I said. "So primary focus is anti-air to knock the fuckers out, and then ground defences second?" That seemed reasonable enough. The discussion turned towards just how much air defence we wanted. We''d all been earning a fair few points, and this next fight would earn us a few more, but the pool wasn''t infinite. In the end, Hedgehog and Emoscythe ended up being the ones leading that discussion. They both had more experience than the rest of us, one in military matters, the other with direct combat experience against the antithesis. The plan was simple. Fill the air with so much high-velocity lead that we wouldn''t even be able to see the plants before they came crashing down. Missiles were okay too. Soon enough, we were all buying up some AA for ourselves. There were plenty of catalogues that had something capable of shooting into the air, and for those that didn''t have the inclination, we were all up to sharing. Tankette bought a large rack that fit onto her tankette, then she got a set of multi-barreled guns on a turret that hovered on top of that. Princess and Crackshot combined some of their catalogues into a sort of... very pretty boxy building with a single barrel sticking out of the top. Grasshopper and Emoscythe both got their own small buildings, towers that were very much opposites. Squat and rounded for Grasshopper, with a sort of boffer gun atop it, and tall and angular and dark for Emoscythe. I was pretty sure that Emoscythe had done that on purpose, tailoring her design to... uncompliment Grasshopper''s so much that it wrapped around to matching. Gomorrah just bought a large missile launching system. She said it was like a HIMARS and I pretended that I knew what that meant. Gros baton supplied a heap of ammo for the rather plain-looking installation that Hedgehog bought and dropped by the command centre of the Big Gun. The others spread their things out a fair bit, placing them around the Big Gun but not all clumped together. It left me with a spot of my own... which I now had to figure out how to fill. *** Chapter Sixty-Five - Skys the Limit, But I Can Reach Chapter Sixty-Five - Sky''s the Limit, But I Can Reach "Wow. Insurance is such a scam." --Lord Burninator, at his criminal trial for Mass Arson, 2032 *** "So, what''re my options when it comes to AA?" I asked. Presuming from context that you mean Anti-Air and not Alcoholics Anonymous, or automotive insurance, then we do have quite a few options. In fact, you have options for all three. "Wait, all three?" I asked. I was off on my own, feeling a little awkward for being away from all the others, but it wasn''t all that bad. I''d be rejoining them in a minute or five. Indeed. Technically, as a vanguard, you could subscribe to any number of insurance services. The companies offering them make the information about their low premium Samurai tier policies as easy to find as possible. As for the alcohol, I have substances that are so addictive that you''d never have time to be addicted to alcohol to begin with. "You are far less reassuring than you ought to be sometimes," I said. I find it amusing. "You think you''re so cute," I muttered. I''m adorable. Now, shall we talk anti-air options? You have fifty-one thousand, one hundred and seventeen points at the moment, which is a very respectable amount of buying power. I glanced over to the others. They were mostly crowded around Tankette''s updated tank with a few further out. Crackshot and Emoscythe were sitting in a rather nice wrought-iron bench that had definitely not been there minutes ago. "That''s... a lot of points. Shit, I''m close to the big leagues, aren''t I?" No. You''re still some ways away from that. However, you certainly are edging your way out of the more beginner tiers. Now, what kind of budget are you looking at? I rubbed my chin for a moment, then nodded. "I think two thousand or so? I know I have a lot more I could splurge here, but that doesn''t feel right for a one-and-done kind of event. I''ll want something that I can move back to our home and slap onto the roof. So it needs to look pretty intimidating? As for weapon-types... maybe something that fires larger rounds so that I can load it full of explosives?" That''s a clever idea. How about a Mark Six Heavenly Striking Tiger Automated Anti-Air Platform? It would come up to a thousand nine hundred and fifty points. A few shy of your stated limit. The system is autonomous, with very competent long-ranged tracking capabilities, and it''s designed to fire 30mm shells. Those were some chunky bullets. "Will they go far enough?" I asked. "Ideally we can hit them while they''re still, like, nearly in space?" That complicates things slightly. But I could have the barrels reinforced, add a water-cooling system, and elongate the receiver to compensate for those additions. It''ll allow you to fire the same projectile but with a larger propellant charge. You might still want specialty shells to reach that far up, whereas lower targets can be taken out with more traditional rounds. All that would increase the cost by two hundred points. That was a smidge over my initial budget, but not by so much that I''d mind. The gun was probably going to earn that point cost back, and then some. "Alright, do it," I said. Not so fast. This gun is rather large. Placing it right in front of you wouldn''t mean that it can''t be moved, but it might be best to lay it down in its final intended position. Ah, that made a heap of sense. Myalis was pretty good with the deliveries of stuff. She''d never dropped anything on my toes before and I''d come to trust her with that kind of thing. "Lemme ask Hedgehog where he wants it, he seems like the one to ask." It was him or Emoscythe, but she was being cute with Crackshot and I wasn''t gonna cockblock my guy. Hedgehog was happy to help. He explained the rough idea of the current layout, going on about overlapping fields of fire and combined arms and firing intervals. He didn''t want our flak to mess up our missile fire, and there were issues with several of our things interfering with our targeting. The army had more balloons they were putting up, there with powerful sensors strapped to the top pointing into the sky to better identify incoming fliers, and we were going to piggyback off of that a little. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The army also had its own AA. A mix of rather simple ''big gun that shoots up'' and surface-to-air missiles specifically designed to track and hit antithesis. The army had a lot of gear for taking out swarms of model ones, even far from a base or a fixed location. They were a minor threat on their own, but in big enough swarms they were definitely a problem. They also had some weapons platforms for bigger fliers. But what they didn''t have was weaponry designed to take a flying antithesis out from over a dozen kilometres away. The strange truth was that warfare had become a much closer game in the last few decades. Range was still king, but when the enemy always rushed to come to you, it made things much easier overall. Since the thing I was aiming to buy had decent range and seemed like it wouldn''t have great traversal, Hedgehog insisted that I place it more or less in the middle of the camp forming up around the Big Gun. He called over one of Major Tinwhistle''s assistants, some sergeant engineer who bobbed his head in understanding, then literally took off running. Ten minutes later we had dudes digging a hole then filling it with concrete and rebar and basically setting down a platform for my AA gun to sit on. It only took a few minutes for it to set. It was some sort of quick-drying cement, and the engineers were attacking it with what were basically industrial hair-dryers to get it to set even faster. The engineers placed some large metal plates over the whole thing, then backed off and kind of just lingered there. It looked like they wanted to be the first ones to take a peek at my new toy, which was fair, I supposed. "Alright, I''m ready," I told Myalis. New Purchase: Mark Six Heavenly Striking Tiger Automated Anti-Air Platform Points Reduced To: 48,967 The gun appeared with barely a whisper. Myalis had obviously calculated it so that it arrived with no space between its feet and the metal plates the engineers had set down. It was pretty big, the size of an old school SUV, with four long barrels covered in metal shrouds sticking out of the business end of it. Of course, all four shrouds were shaped like pouncing tigers, with the barrels sticking out of their mouths, and the boxy remainder of the gun had my familiar neon cat logo slapped onto the sides. There was a space in the rear that someone could easily walk into, with access to several ammo hoppers that were currently filled with 30mm shells with cases longer than my forearm. The turret spun around, then aimed straight up, the moment so quick and sudden that I jumped in surprise. "Looks good," I said. "If a bit gaudy. What''s up with the name? It sounds like some Chinese web novel''s protagonist." "You''ve read a novel?" Hedgehog asked. "I mean, I''ve seen ads," I said with a shrug. The name fits the naming rules. "What naming rules?" I asked. The ones I made up. I narrowed my eyes at nothing in particular. I could almost feel Myalis laughing in the back of my mind. "For someone so smart, your sense of humour is weak." She didn''t rise to that bait and left me stewing in silence with my new super AA gun. Tilting my head back, I looked up and into the sky. It was a little overcast, but it seemed as though the clouds were lifting in a few spots, enough to see the sky, at least. It was just dark enough to make out some stars past the incredible light pollution put out by New Montreal. No aliens, though. Not that I''d probably be able to see them until they hit our atmosphere. Still, it was strangely unnerving to look up, feel so tiny, and yet know that death might be raining down on me at any moment. I shook my head and pushed those thoughts away before turning around and marching off to meet the others. We''d chat a little more, then I wanted to head back home for the night. The world might end tomorrow, but that didn''t mean I couldn''t spend today with Lucy and the kittens. Besides, I was learning not to hinge too much on ''mights.'' I was a samurai; defeating the odds with superior firepower was what I was meant to do. *** Chapter Sixty-Six - Points Are Precious, But Explosions Are Priceless

Chapter Sixty-Six - Points Are Precious, But Explosions Are Priceless "The HIMAR system, or the High Mobility Artillery Rocket system, is a weapon''s platform designed to carry mid to long ranged rockets onto and out of the battlefield so as to be able to assault an enemy position from a tactically advantageous angle without pre-existing defensive infrastructure. While the HIMAR system proved its worth in the early 2000s across several theatres, its real accomplishments were during the early 2020s incursions where undefended areas were made the target of saturation bombardment by HIMAR systems in order to eradicate Antithesis threats." --History of the HIMAR, 2031 *** "That''s not enough gun?" I asked. "Obviously not," Gomorrah said. She had her hands on her hips and was looking about as amused as usual. She was also standing next to my... what was it called again? The Mark Six Heavenly Striking Tiger Automated Anti-Air Platform? "What''s the rate of fire on this thing?" "A lot?" I tried. It had four barrels. That was four times more gun per gun. Gomorrah just rolled her eyes. "Atyacus says that it fires two hundred and forty rounds a minute. That''s a decent number, but it''s nowhere near enough to counter the sheer volume of antithesis we''re going to be dealing with, especially as some of them will take multiple strikes to take out." "Ah," I said. "So what, I need an even bigger gun?" "Or more of them," Gomorrah said. "I bought six HIMARs. One will stay here, another is heading to New Montreal, and the other four are going in every cardinal direction to provide a wider umbrella of fire. They''re each loaded with sixty precision rockets each." "That feels low," I said. She shrugged. "They''re reloadable. I''ll be sending a truck-bed full of extras with each. My point is that we, and by extension Grasshopper and Emoscythe, can''t afford to be cheap here, Catherine." Oof, she was using my whole name, which meant she was being serious. "I''m assuming it''s because we''re the big guys around here?" Gomorrah finally removed her hands from her hips. "Essentially. We''re the highest tier''d samurai in the area. Grasshopper and Emoscythe notwithstanding, but neither of them are built for combat exclusively." I assumed she meant ''built'' in the sense that they weren''t exclusively focusing most of their points-earned into combat-related stuff. Grasshopper, I knew, poured a lot into education and information and even some into infrastructure. Emoscythe did fashion and mass media misinformation and propaganda stuff. They weren''t combat-specialists the way that Gom and I had somehow managed to become. The newbies were... well, they were doing their own things. Gros Baton didn''t seem to have picked any specific path yet. Hedgehog was definitely heading in a ''combat'' kind of direction. I suspected the same for Tankette, though she felt more like a support and logistics kind of person. Princess and Knight... actually, I had no clue for them either. Crackshot was probably going to keep up his current ''kill things dead from afar'' shtick. Yeah, looking over at the newbies, it was clear that they were still scrounging things together. The Big Gun had given them all a massive boost, though. "Okay," I said. "That''s fair. Let me chat with the Major. I''ll see about buying a few more of these guns that we can slap around." Gomorrah nodded. "Do you want me to buy you some trucks for them?" "Are they expensive?" I asked. "A cheap land-based car is only about four hundred points for me," Gomorrah said. "That few?" "Cheap," she repeated. "No easily replaceable parts, good construction quality but poor materials. Battery-powered, but not designed to be recharged, and not exactly comfortable to drive. They do have stable bases and are strong enough to carry something like your AA platform to a destination, though." That made sense, though it was a little weird to think of something as large as a car as cheap. The sheer bulk of it made me think ''expensive'' but then a lot of stuff about cars were expensive in relation to just owning the damned things, right? The fuel and permits and parking and all the rest. The actual car was just plastics and some metal and a motor. Maybe some tires or whatever. "Alright," I said. "I''d appreciate that. Lemme chat with the Major. Maybe I''ll get five more gun platforms as well and like, a trailer-full of ammo." I paused. "And some smaller cat bots to keep them in our hands. Just in case." "That might be wise," Gomorrah said. "I don''t worry too much about that. You''d have to be mentally unwell to steal explosives from a samurai, especially explosives designed to be detonated from afar." Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "Sounds like a good way to clean out the gene pool," I said. "Anyway, yeah, lemme hit up the Major. I''ll be back in a bit." Gomorrah seemed pleased with herself if the way she sauntered off was any indication. I watched her go for a moment before turning back towards the rest of the camp and in particular the small mobile base slapped down in the middle of it. The Major was there, sitting behind a desk beneath an awning that extended from the side of the mobile base. She glanced up as I squeezed past the guards standing nearby. "Major," I said. "Samurai Stray Cat," Tinwhistle said as she stood. "Can I help you with anything?" "You might be able to, yeah," I said. "Oh, thank god," she said, and her shoulders slumped. "Ever since your broadcast went live, the army''s been breathing down my back." "Trouble?" She groaned. "The brass, and by that I don''t just mean the Brigadier General, but the actual top brass, are blowing smoke up my ass right now." "I don''t know what that means and I''m not sure I want to," I said. She snorted. "A mere Major in the position I''m in right now is seen as... somewhat above my rank. They''d rather replace me. But by all reports we did really well here, and they don''t want to rock the boat. So instead they''re nagging at me non-stop." "So... this is a bad time to ask for a favor?" I asked. The Major shook her head. "God no. This is the best time. More samurai work is a valid excuse to foist off all this paperwork to some poor schmuck that isn''t me." One of the major''s assistants raised his head further in, and I had the distinct impression he was the poor schmuck in question. "Right, well I''ve got some work for you, maybe. I''m about to buy a few more of those big AA platforms and I was hoping you could spread them around. I''ll probably get some cat bots too, to guard them, but more guards couldn''t hurt." Major Tinwhisle frowned a bit. "I can help with the installation and the transportation as well." "Gomorrah said she''d get me some cheap trucks to move them around," I said. "Anyway, I''m sensing a but?" "My boys are engineers. Not guards. We''re all armed well enough, and we''ve got some stationary weapons sitting around that we can lay down in a pinch, but we''re not the ones you''ll want guarding your machines. I''ll pop a question over to the Lieutenant." "Think he''ll be okay with lending us some guys?" I asked. "Oh, of course he will. The army being seen so close to this many samurai is a PR miracle. The brass are losing their shit right now. I''ll bet you that recruitment numbers double in the next six to nine months. Especially if we can get footage of our people in green fighting next to you lot." Fair enough. Some hot military-types fighting the aliens next to a few samurai always looked great. Slap on some phonk and after effects and young men and women across the country would race to sign their lives away. I looked back and noticed a small row of five extremely nondescript trucks parked not too far from my platform. "Cool! I''ll buy the guns. Just have them set up before nightfall, yeah?" "Can do, ma''am!" Major Tinwhistle said. She was out and shouting orders a split second later. I walked back to the trucks, checked to see if they had room on the back, then chatted with Myalis for a moment. A few seconds after we came to an agreement, there were five distinct thunks and the trucks settled down a little. New Purchase: Mark Six Heavenly Striking Tiger Automated Anti-Air Platform (x5) Points Reduced To: 38,217 "Alright," I said. "And now... cats and ammo." The cats were cheap enough. A semi-decent drone was a hundred point investment. I needed ten, which did sting a little, but I swallowed my cheapness and made the purchase. New Purchase: Personal Use, Security Systems, Model Y (x10) Points Reduced To: 37,217 And then, while the boxes were still appearing and the mechanised cats were still climbing out of them, I checked on the next set of purchases. About three thousand points worth of ammunition, split between high-velocity armour penetrating sabots and timed-explosive flak rounds. New Purchase: 30mm Anti-Air Ammunition - Various Points Reduced To: 34,217 That stung a little too, but it left me with several dozen large boxes, the sort that would require two strong guys to lift, filled with pointy-tipped shells with my grinning cat logo stamped onto their sides. If all of this wasn''t enough to give the aliens a warm welcome, then nothing would be. *** SCS Halloween Special "Alright, you little shits. Line up!" I snapped. The little shits did not line up, because they were little shits, and you didn''t earn such an illustrious title by listening to people when they gave you instructions. I worked my jaw and narrowed my eyes at the lot of them. "Last one in line I get to pick their costume." That snapped them to attention. It was always about the stick and the stick. If they misbehaved, you whacked them with a stick. And if they did good, you''d give them a stick to whack others with. Carrots were for losers. The plan for the day was easy. Actually, it wasn''t so different than the usual plan. Every year, on Halloween, we''d head out and canvas the nicer mega-buildings. Most of those had these events. Corps would ''give out'' candies for the low-low price of filling out surveys and signing waivers, and there were a few shows and the like on as well. For whatever reason, some people liked handing out treats and stuff. Some of the nicer, more upper middleclass mega-buildings would allow people to decorate their apartment doors. You could knock on those and do the old traditional trick-or-treat thing. I found it kind of stupid, but it was also free food. It was one of the few nights in the year where being a poor shit wasn''t all that bad, because people were bleeding hearts and orphans often got an extra handful of candy. At the end of the night we always sorted it. Stuff that''d last a while, stuff that needed eating sooner, and then drugs and other crap that had been snuck in. The last we used to resell, because it was basically free credits. This year would be different, though. Nose stepped up first, having shoved Bargain back behind the Twins. He turned my way, sniffed, then rubbed the back of his hand across his upper lip. "Alright," I said. "What do you wanna be?" Nose grinned. A year ago he''d be grinning with a gob of snot poking out of his nose, but we''d fixed that. Still left him with a few ticks, and that name. "I wanna be snot." "Snot," I repeated. "Like... a large heap of snot?" "With cat ears," he clarified. "That''s stupid," I said. "You said we could be whatever," he said. I crossed my arms. "I said that assuming you wouldn''t want to be something dumb." Nose pouted at me, and I rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine." New Purchase: Cat-eared gob of snot costume A box appeared next to us, and Nose cheered before scooping it up and running off. He started to change into it right then and there and... yeah, he quickly turned into a large gob of snot... with cat ears that bore a striking and disturbing similarity to my own. "Alright, next," I said. The Twins stepped up next. They were fighting, which is just what they did, but they also shared a look before locking eyes with me. "Princess," one of them said. "Knight," the other said over their twin. I narrowed my eyes at the two. "Like, as in the samurais Princess and Knight? Or like, a generic princess and knight?" "The samurai," the said at the same time. It was creepy as shit when they did that. "Okay. Princess would probably love having people dress like her."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. New Purchase: Princess costume New Purchase: Knight costume "There you go," I said as two boxed appeared before me. They were quick to snap them up and run off to get changed... and then the started arguing over which one of them would be wearing what. I didn''t get involved. The Twins would argue over anything for any reason. "Who''s next?" The answer was obvious as Bargain stepped up. He narrowed his eyes. "When you say any costume, what are the limits?" "Don''t start," I said. He started. "What if I chose to go as a fully-functional matter fabrication unit? Or can I go as Infinite Power Man?" "Who the fuck is that?" I asked. "My OC. His costume allows him to generate infinite power, which he sells at market rates in order to generate income." I pinched my nose. "No," I said. "You can''t go as that." Bargain grumbled, but he nodded eventually. "Fine. In that case I''ll go as Crackshot. He''s cool." "He''s alright," I said. Bargain looked a little insulted at that. "He''s saving so many points with his catalogue that lets him keep the same weapon and just upgrade it." "I guess," I said. "Plus hes'' definitely banging that goth chick." "Oooookay," I said, cutting off that entire line of conversation. I was as dirty as the next person, but I didn''t want to have the brat bragging about someone I knew like that. It veered into the realm of impossibly awkward. New Purchase: Crackshot Cowboy costume Spark stepped up and met my gaze with a serious one of his own. "Power junction box." I sighed. There wasn''t a normal one in the lot. New Purchase: Power Junction box costume Nemo was next. She stepped up and stood tall. She''d always been very shy, and extremly reserved. To the point where it was an actual challenge to get her to talk sometimes. Now she was a lot better. She was gaining a bit of weight, in a good way, and was far more likely to tell the others off. "I want to be like Grasshopper," she said. I nodded. First costume that I fully approved of. I might not be the best... parental figure around, but even I could understand that Grasshopper was a good influence. "Good choice," I said. New Purchase: Grasshopper costume Tim came up next and he grinned like the little shit he was. "Hotter, male Stray Cat," he said. "No, that''s a terri-- New Purchase: Hotter, Male Stray Cat costume "Myalis, what the fuck?" I snapped. It was too funny not to. Don''t worry... he won''t be that much hotter. I watched as Tim went off and opened his box. Within was a costume of my usual power armour, but with redder lines and some flames on it. Cheeky AI. "Did you want to be a hotter version of me too?" I asked Junior as she came up next. She was next to Katallina, with Catkiller the mutt trudging along next to them. "Nah," Junior said. "I''m going as a sexy nurse." "Sexy witch," Katallina said simply. I wanted to say no, but they were both old enough... ish. Well, whatever. Myalis would keep it pg, probably. "If you freeze, that''s not on me," I said. "Burff," Catkiller barked. He was giving me a look. That dog never liked me, and it was mutual. New Purchase: Sexy nurse costume New Purchase: Sexy Witch costume New Purchase: Bunny costume I blinked as three boxes appeared. The last was smaller, but it had a dog bone on the cover. We all stared at it for a moment, then looked to Catkiller. "IS that for him?" Junior asked. "I guess?" I said before I opened the box. There was a sort of plastic band in it, with a tie around the bottom, and two long, floppy bunny ears. "Myalis, do you speak dog?" I asked. Catherine, I know more languages than you know words. Well, whatever. I wasn''t going to investigate that further, for the sake of my own sanity. I leaned over and called out across the living room. "Daniel, you want a costume?" "Is there a costume that would let me stay home and not have to go out?" he asked. "No." "Then no, I''m good," he said. Yeah, that''s what I thought. That actually only left one person... Lucy sauntered into the room, taking note of all the kittens getting dressed up or showing off their choices. Spark''s costume let out little electrical jolts and Tim''s really did look like it was on fire. "And what about you?" I asked. "Do you want a costume?" Lucy smiled, and I felt my heart skipping a beat. Damnit. "Oh? Maybe I want to dress up as my hero?" "Your hero, huh?" I asked. "Mhm," she said as she came closer, close enough that she was pressing into me. "My big damned hero." "I swear if this is a bait-and-switch and you say something like Gomorrah, I''ll be so annoyed," I said. Lucy giggled. "Aww! You know me too well! But I was gonna say Emoscythe." "Really?" "Goth is hot." Fair. "How about something we''ll both enjoy, then?" Lucy asked. "How about... Sexy Stray Cat?" New Purchase: Sexy Stray Cat Costume The box was very small. "Do you want to help me... put this on?" Lucy asked. "I think I''d like that," I said. The trick or treating could wait a couple of minutes, right? *** Chapter Sixty-Seven - The Quiche of Commitment

Chapter Sixty-Seven - The Quiche of Commitment "Quantum Quiche: A Synth-Cuisine Delight Ingredients: 1 Quantum Crust (1 pack) (Patented multi-grain blend, infused with omega-3 nanobots for optimal crunch) 2 Cups Bio-Enhanced Egg Substitute (From SynthFarm?: High-protein, low-cholesterol formula for the health-conscious consumer) 1 Cup Neon Cheese Shreds (Vegan, dairy-free, and bursting with flavor synthesized from the finest algae) 1 Cup Mutant Greens (spinach, kale, or a mix) (Genetically modified for maximum nutrient density; no antithesis byproducts) 1/2 Cup Cyber Seasoning Blend (A proprietary mix of salt, pepper, and spice; guaranteed to elevate your taste experience) 1/2 Cup Holo-Vegan Cream (Plant-based and shelf-stable; perfect for a creamy texture without the guilt) Instructions: 1. Prepare the Quantum Crust: Preheat your pre-programmed oven to 375¡ãF (190¡ãC). Unwrap your Quantum Crust and lay it in a 9-inch pie dish. Prick the bottom with a fork (for optimal heat circulation) and pre-bake for 10 minutes. 2. Craft the Filling: In a large mixing bowl, combine the Bio-Enhanced Egg Substitute and Holo-Vegan Cream. Whisk vigorously until the mixture achieves a perfect vortex of creaminess. 3. Add the Neon Cheese and Mutant Greens: Fold in the Neon Cheese Shreds and your choice of Mutant Greens. Sprinkle in the Cyber Seasoning Blend to taste. This is where flavour meets the future! 4. Assemble the Quiche: Pour the filling into the pre-baked Quantum Crust. Use a silicon spatula to ensure an even spread¡ªprecision is key. 5. Bake to Perfection: Place the quiche in your trusty oven and bake for 35-40 minutes, or until the centre is set and the top has that golden glow of a neon skyline. 6. Cool and Serve: Allow your Quantum Quiche to cool for 10 minutes before slicing. Serve it warm, or chill it in your fridge for a refreshing cyber-snack." --Quantum Quiche recipe, 2055 *** The anticipation was killing me. All the prep, the big spending, the whole ordeal with showing my face to the world... and yet there was still plenty of time to sit on our thumbs and wait. The antithesis were at our doorstep, but they hadn''t knocked yet. We fired the Big Gun a few more times, alternating between taking some final pot-shots at the remains of Phobos and firing back towards Earth with Bee-bombs and guided explosives to tag some of the bigger chunks of the incoming swarm. The soldiers, especially the growing crowd of new faces, cheered every time the gun fired. I didn''t expect that to last until morning. In any case, I went around, made sure everyone was alive, then said my goodnights and headed out. If the aliens were going to do me the curtesy of showing up tomorrow, then I could at least spend the night at home. When I arrived, I found Lucy waiting for me just inside. She greeted me with a hungry kiss, then whispered some of the sexiest words I''d ever heard... "There''s a warm quiche in the oven." "I don''t know what that is, but I''m starving, so please tell me it''s a kind of food." Lucy laughed and dragged me into the living room. I took off my coat as she darted to the kitchen, then bullied the kittens a little. Bargain had spilled soda all over the sofa and turned it into a sticky mess, and I had to tell him off to get him to clean it up. It was a good couch, so nothing hard to clean, but I didn''t want to sit in sticky crap regardless. The kittens seemed to be in a good mood. Junior even told me that I didn''t look that stupid on screen, though I had interrupted a livestream she''d been watching which was unforgivable. Apparently, I was worse than mid-roll ads, which was quite possibly the worst insult I''d ever had pointed at me. Lucy delivered the quiche. It was some sort of... egg pie? She said the veggies in it were actually real, organic veggies she''d had delivered that morning and had cut up herself, and the eggs were from chickens. It tasted pretty good, especially spiced with hunger. Lucy sat on the arm of the couch and toyed with my hair while I complained at length about everything. "That is a lot of points," she said once I told her how much I''d spent on AA platforms. "But I don''t think it''s that bad. You''ll probably make them back, right? And it''s not like they''re not reusable." "I know," I said. "Still feels shitty. The ammo''s expensive too." "Can''t we make some here? I''ll see if Rac wouldn''t mind checking on the fabricator while we make a few rounds. Can''t take more than a few minutes each." That was a good idea, actually. I was probably not using that machine to its full extent. Still, the rate at which we''d burn through ammo firing and the rate the fabricator could make more wasn''t anywhere close. Unless we had weeks to stockpile it really wasn''t worth the effort. "Probably best to leave it as it is. We''ll have to see about setting up a bigger fabricator at some point. Maybe on one of the lower floors?" Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. "At this rate the entire tower will house half the samurai in New Montreal," Lucy said. "That means it''s safe, right?" I asked. She smiled, then leaned way down to give my cheek a peck. "I guess so," she said. "You did well, by the way, with the whole live stream." "Urgh," I groaned as I let myself fall to the side. It allowed me to crash into Lucy who laughed as I let my head rest on her lap. "That was embarrassing. It''s all Emoscythe''s fault. She pulled that shit on me without any warning." "That''s okay. I think you did better with the... spontaneity than you would have done if you had time to think about it," Lucy said. "Is that a commentary on my ability to think?" I asked. "Yes." I huffed. What was with it with people thinking that I couldn''t think well? I could think as good as the next thinker! "It was a mess. I was talking so fast. I''m not even sure what I said." "It did come off as a little stream-of-conscious," Lucy said. "But that''s okay. It''s a really hard vibe to pull off on purpose, so it felt authentic, and that''s important. Besides, it worked, right? The call went out?" "Yeah. Gomorrah showed me this map from the Family. They''re spreading everyone out. There''s like, almost two hundred samurai that mobilized." "That''s a lot of samurai," Lucy said. "Like, legitimately a lot of them. I don''t think two hundred samurai show up to most small incursions." "Eh," I said with a shrug. "I think more show up than you''d think. It''s just that a lot of them aren''t... celebrity samurai? More discreet sorts, you know?" "I suppose," Lucy said. "You''re more of an expert there than I am." I shrugged half-heartedly. "Myalis, is two hundred samurai a lot?" It is a rather large number. The most vanguard that ever participated in an incursion on Earth--with the exception of large assaults like the Mars project that''s currently ongoing and global incursions, is four hundred and thirty-two during the Second Battle of Zurich in 2051. That was a chunk, holy shit. I didn''t envy whichever poor idiot had to handle the logistics of that. "Four-hundred is a lot," Lucy said. "Guess you''ll have to try harder next time." I stuck my tongue out at her, and she laughed and tried to poke it. "There will be no next time. If Gomorrah, or god-forbid Emoscythe, ever try to put me in front of a camera again, I''m going to do nothing but swear the entire time." "I don''t think that would actually tank your rankings in a meaningful way," Lucy said. "You''re not exactly striking hard in the pre-teen demographic." "My rankings? Oh! That popularity poll thing?" Lucy nodded. "You''re in the top three thousand now, by the way!" Huh, that was... something. Way ahead of where I''d been just a week or two ago. Then again, the mayor thing, and that big broadcast... yeah, that was a lot of my face going around. I shouldn''t have been surprised that I had gained some amount of infamy, but it still felt weird to even think about. "So, how''s it feel to be dating a celebrity?" I asked. "Ohh, can we go to one of those red-carpet things? I want to hang off your arm while wearing something very skimpy," Lucy said. I laughed. "Sure. Maybe after tomorrow, though? I''ve got this feeling that my samurai buddies wouldn''t be impressed if I go to some movie premier instead of helping." "I see and understand your argument, and in my magnanimity, I accept," Lucy said as she tilted her head back and tried to sound snobbish. I relaxed. This was nice. The kittens were mostly ignoring us and making a racket, the TV was on across the room with the volume too high, my breath stank of eggs, and my leg was asleep because of the weird way I was sitting, but it was still nice. "Did I ever tell you that your legs are squishy?" I asked. Lucy snorted. "My legs are not squishy." I shook my head. "Squishy." "No!" "Only good for being used as a pillow," I said. Lucy looked down at me, then reached over and tapped my nose with a finger. "Idiot," she declared. She didn''t shift or kick me off, though, so it was my victory. I closed my eyes as she started to play with my hair again, long fingers rubbing at my scalp. If I could purr, I might have, cat allegations be damned. Tomorrow was going to be a whole ordeal. We''d have to gun down ten thousand aliens and hope that we took out enough of them to keep the chaos in the area to a bare minimum. There were people and orgs in the region that wanted to make a big name for themselves, and I was going to have to be there to keep tempers calm. But tomorrow was tomorrow. Right now, I had a warm Lucy to cuddle and a full stomach, and that felt like enough for the moment. Then Lucy leaned down and started to whisper some ideas into my ear, and I found that my post-food nap mood was set aside. There were other, more fun things I could be up to. *** Chapter Sixty-Eight - Late, Locked, and Loaded Chapter Sixty-Eight - Late, Locked, and Loaded "Fear isn''t the mind killer. Stress is." --A Corporate''s Guide to the Modern World, second ed. 2035 *** "Is it possible to be bored and stressed at the same time?" I asked the ceiling. Lucy shifted next to me. Her nose pressed up against my arm, it was cold on the end. She pulled herself a little closer, as if she wanted to steal my warmth. "At the same time?" she asked. Her voice was husky and rough from having just woken up. "Yeah," I said. "Is there a word for that?" "I don''t know," Lucy said. She yawned. "Make one up?" "Hmm. Bored and stressed... Bressed?" Lucy sniffed. "Nevermind. Don''t make up a new word." "Did I fail to imbress you?" I asked. Lucy laughed, and that laughter clearly woke her up some. She poked me in the short-ribs. "You are so... you." "Don''t make it sound like an insult," I said. "I''m not," she said before stretching up. She pressed a kiss against my cheek. "I love you... you." I flushed a little, then returned the kiss. "I''m not so bored anymore," I murmured. "Oh-hoh? Horny and stressed... Hressed? Horssed?" "Let''s not," I said with a laugh. I snaked an arm around so that I was holding Lucy closer, even if I knew that would lead to the entire arm falling asleep sooner rather than later. "I have to go in a bit." "In a bit isn''t right now, though," Lucy said. "That''s true," I said. I cuddled in a little closer. "Later, then." "When do you have to go?" Lucy asked. "We still have some time, right?" "Eh, I guess about one, maybe two or so?" I said. "Cat." "Yeah?" I asked. "It''s two thirty." I blinked, then checked the time in my augs. "Ah... fuck me." "Well, we hardly have time for that, now do we?" Lucy said. She wriggled about for a moment, then pushed me up and off with a shove. "Up up! Get dressed and all that, I''ll run and prep some breakfast." "Oh, fine." I said as I allowed myself to be rolled off the bed. There wouldn''t be time for a shower, but that didn''t mean I couldn''t spray myself down with deodorant and find some moderately clean clothes from the floor heap to wear. Lucy darted out of the room, and I soon heard her banging things together in the kitchen. I took that moment to open up my messaging apps, only to discover a few hundred pings aimed my way. Gomorrah wasn''t amused, but she was also not my mom and if I was a little late, then... no one would die, probably? Not if it was only a little late. Putting my armour on was a bit of a chore, but I wasn''t about to leave the house without it, not today. Then I shrugged on my coat and made sure to sling on a few guns and grenades. I had a bandoleer full of explosive fun, my Laser Pointer, and my old Trenchmaker in a thigh holster. Basically, I was armed for war, which was just about what I expected to encounter. Lucy''s idea of a quick breakfast was a small plastic box filled with stuff. One of the boxes gear I bought came in, repurposed as a lunchbox. There were toaster tarts, a ketchup sandwich in a ziplock baggy, and a fistful of granola bars. "Thanks," I said. "If I had longer I''d have time to make something better," she complained as she brought over a plate with some warm toast on it. There was butter covering it and a slathering of real peanut butter on top of that. "This is fine!" I said as I grabbed the plate and bit into a toast. It immediately stained my lips, but whatever. I took three big bites, wiped my face clean with the back of my hand, then pressed a kiss against Lucy''s lips. "Gotta go," I said after swallowing thickly. "Bye! Have fun killing aliens and corpos! Don''t die! And I love you!" "Love you too!" I shouted as I ran towards the entrance hall. I grabbed my helmet, then was out of the door and into the pouring rain a moment later. The weather was not being very cooperative. It would have been better for us if the skies were cleared, but that was a rare occurrence. As I took off northwards on my bike, I noticed something strange. A lot of rockets rising out from around the city and slowly climbing up and into the cloud layer far above. There were several loud pops that must have been pretty big explosions, but I didn''t see any light or any other signs of anything bursting above. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. I checked my messenger app and found an explanation as I scrolled up a little. The rockets were a gift from Forr¨®, a Brazilian samurai who''s gimmick included weather fuckery. My concerns about cloudy skies were apparently unfounded. By the time I was halfway to Saint-J¨¦rome, the clouds had turned thin and wispy and there were great big holes where I could see the blue of deep sky above. I flew around the Big Gun site. It was hard to tell from the ground, and when I left the night before it was late enough that I couldn''t see it well, but the site had expanded a ton. There were trenches dug out in a wide circle, trees had been chopped down, and large areas had been cleared of bushes and weeds and the grass had been mowed down. Any antithesis coming to the site from the ground would be seen from some ways off, and that wasn''t saying anything about the defences. Palisades were up over the trenches and there were these quick-deploy towers up every fifty metres or so. Within the defences was a full-fledged army base. The temporary sort, with tents and mobile homes, but still a full-on base. We had to have a thousand or so soldiers here now. The Big Gun itself was off to one side, the camp spread out around it but still giving it plenty of space. Unsurprisingly, the more Samurai-ish vehicles were all parked in a row by the base of the gun. I came around and landed my bike next to my mecha. I was barely landed before I saw Gomorrah making her way over. "I should have expected that you''d be late, even today." "Hey now, would you rather I be late, or early and grumpy because I didn''t get enough sleep?" "You should have had plenty of time to get eight hours of sleep and still make it here before noon," she said, rather waspishly. "Well, some of us actually get laid sometimes, so life just has to make space sometimes," I said. She sniffed, then chuckled while shaking her head. "You''re lucky I''m so lenient," she said. "What does that even mean?" I asked as I finally got off my bike. "Is everything ready?" "As ready as we can manage," Gomorrah said. "We had a few more samurai join in at the last minute. People like you who don''t understand the concept of professionalism. Otherwise though, the overall plan hasn''t changed." I nodded. That wasn''t unexpected at all. I checked on that map the Family was keeping up and saw that the total number of samurai joining in was in the low two hundreds. That was a good number. Still spread way the fuck out, but that was fine. It meant a good spread of points for everyone involved and hopefully less risk. "Do we have anything in store for when things go to shit?" I asked. "There are three rapid-response teams," Gomorrah confirmed. "Mostly samurai who can get somewhere quickly without any fuss, and some PMCs as well. If the antithesis land in bigger numbers than expected anywhere, then they''ll be able to respond." I nodded and started to make my way to the others. Tankette was around... maybe I could grab something warm to drink from her? This felt like a ''walk with a coffee'' moment. "Are we still expecting the fucks to mostly be concentrated around here?" "More or less, yes," she said. "More or less?" "The swarm is dispersing. It''s still concentrated, but their trajectories have gotten complex. The Big Gun has mostly been firing backwards into them and taking out larger clumps. They''re about to reach the outer range of what few orbital defences we have." So, we''d still have to deal with a lot of the bastards. That was probably good, because it would be embarrassing if, after everything else, there weren''t any that showed up and we all just found ourselves sitting here with big AA guns and nothing to shoot at. Mostly that would be embarrassing for me, the one that asked people to help. "I think that this''ll be a nice day," I said. *** Chapter Twenty-One - The Calm Chapter Twenty-One - The Calm ¡°Samurai tend to work alone. It¡¯s true that there are some larger organisations run by samurai who exist to assist samurai on and off the field, but even the members of these tend to be extremely self-reliant and have a tendency to want to work on their own. It will happen though, in rare moments, that two or more samurai will work together long enough to form a sort of bond. Lag and Dial-up; DoubleDog and Electric Heart. There have been many iconic samurai teams that have lasted years. Even the extremely powerful samurai accomplish more when working together. In this teamwork seminar, we hope to use some of the tips and tricks learned by observing these to make your teamwork even greater!¡± --Obligatory Team Building Seminar, 2056 *** Somehow, Lucy convinced Franny that she absolutely needed a tour of the house. She had the taller redhead by the wrist and dragged her off to see some of the neater rooms. She was pretty proud that she¡¯d designed a lot of the house herself. That left Delilah and I at the table, both of us more than a little stuffed and suffering from that pleasant haze that came from eating far too much of the worst kinds of food. ¡°It¡¯s a nice place,¡± Delilah said. She made a vague, weak gesture at the room around us. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s pretty nice,¡± I said. ¡°Not as safe as I want it to be yet, but we¡¯ll get there.¡± ¡°I trust you,¡± Delilah said. She picked at some fries, finding the most burnt, crispiest one before tossing it into her mouth. ¡°Thanks for the supper, by the way.¡± ¡°I hardly did much here,¡± I said. ¡°Mostly Lucy¡¯s work. I just tossed money at the problem.¡± ¡°It¡¯s still a nice gesture. I needed to get out of the house.¡± ¡°That bad?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ve complained about it at length already,¡± she said. ¡°Besides, it really isn¡¯t that bad. Just a lot of old worried nuns who don¡¯t know what they can do to help. It weighs on you, you know? Not knowing, not being able to act. I think... maybe that¡¯s one of the requirements to become a vanguard.¡± I tilted my head. ¡°You mean you need to be pissed that you can¡¯t do anything?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t you feel that, when you were offered the position?¡± Delilah asked. I snorted. ¡°If I recall, I was mostly thinking ¡®oh shit oh fuck I¡¯m going to die.¡¯ There might have been some internal screaming too.¡± Delilah¡¯s shoulders shook with a single exhale of laughter. ¡°I guess that¡¯s fair. We don¡¯t exactly have the most peaceful job there is.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. ¡°I kinda like it though.¡± She nodded along. ¡°It¡¯s not bad work. Satisfying, in its own way. But it is dangerous. Hey, Cat?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Gomorrah didn¡¯t say anything for a bit, it was clear she was thinking about something. ¡°If I die, can you take care of Franny for me?¡± ¡°Uh,¡± I said. ¡°You know, I already have one girlfriend.¡± She jabbed her elbow into my ribs and I coughed as I bent over from the blow. ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool, you know what I meant.¡± I grinned. ¡°I know, I know. Just messing with you. But okay, yeah. As long as you do the same with Lucy for me.¡± Gomorrah nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a deal.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I said before extending my hand to her. She looked at it for a moment before she took it and we shook. ¡°Deal. But only if you promise that you¡¯ll cork it first.¡± ¡°Hah! Now that I think about it, I really picked the short stick with this one, didn¡¯t I? You¡¯re the one always in close proximity to things that are exploding.¡± ¡°Damn right,¡± I said. I leaned to the side, bumping her shoulder with mine. ¡°So, you want me to take care of Franny, huh? That must mean you care about her a whole lot?¡± It was a statement, but I wasn¡¯t hiding any of the implication behind the words. Delilah rolled her eyes and tore apart another fry before answering. ¡°I do care a lot about her. She¡¯s my best... one of my best friends. I don¡¯t know if I care about her the way you¡¯re implying though. So please keep your head firmly out of the gutter.¡± I couldn¡¯t help the grin. ¡°One of... does that make me best friend number two?¡± ¡°In a far second place, maybe,¡± Delilah said. ¡°Also, while we¡¯re on the subject, can you tell Lucy to calm down a bit with her... romantic intentions? I think she¡¯s not nearly as subtle as she thinks she is.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°I can tell her. Don¡¯t know if that¡¯ll stop her. She¡¯s got this thing for hopeless people.¡± ¡°Franny and I are hardly hopeless,¡± Delilah said. I made a so-so gesture with my hand. ¡°You¡¯re both a little hopeless,¡± I said. ¡°Besides, you¡¯re our friends, and Lucy probably just wants the best for you. Or what she thinks is best.¡± ¡°You know, you¡¯re rather sweet for a semi-feral street orphan,¡± Delilah said. ¡°Semi-feral?¡± I asked. I grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them into my mouth, crumbs falling all over. ¡°Disgusting,¡± Delilah said, but there was a hint of amusement under her haughtiness. I perked up as I heard Lucy returning. She was followed by a red-faced Franny and a catbot that had a few cheap bags balanced on its back. ¡°Hey! The dessert arrived!¡± ¡°You ordered dessert?¡± Delilah asked. ¡°After all of this?¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong with dessert?¡± I asked. She shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing we lead such active lives, I can¡¯t imagine burning all of this off otherwise.¡± ¡°Come on, there¡¯s ice cream for everyone,¡± Lucy said. We had ordered those super expensive little ice-cream packs, the ones that had weird flavours that somehow sounded really good. Lucy passed them around and then handed out spoons, and soon we were pigging out on semi-melted sugary goodness. ¡°So,¡± Franny asked as she licked her spoon, ¡°are you two going to be doing more work tomorrow?¡± I nodded. ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t know if we¡¯ll be together or not though?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mind either way. But I intend to start early in the morning.¡± ¡°I can get up early,¡± I said. ¡°At around five,¡± Delilah added. ¡°In the morning?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s not healthy.¡± ¡°It¡¯s before the sun comes up. I¡¯m certain the aliens won¡¯t sleep overnight. The earlier we hit them, the fewer we¡¯ll have to deal with.¡± ¡°I guess, but for me to be up at that kind of hour I¡¯d need to go to bed like, before midnight.¡± I shook my head. ¡°That¡¯s just wrong. It¡¯ll take an hour or so to relax after we¡¯re done with dessert, then half an hour to say goodbye, then we need to check on the kittens. Then after that Lucy and I need to take a shower together. By the time that¡¯s all done it¡¯ll be tomorrow.¡± Delilah shook her head. ¡°Degenerate,¡± she said. ¡°Prude,¡± I fired back. We ate our ice cream, then argued over politics, all four of us clearly having no idea about what we were talking about, but plenty of opinions to make up for our lack of knowledge. Once everything was done, we lounged around for a bit, none of us had the energy to pick up the trash heaped before us. ¡°We should head out,¡± Delilah said. She was a bit mournful-sounding about it, but she kept glancing up out of one thin window and at the cold, dark sky outside. It was getting to be pretty late. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. I stood up with a grunt of effort, then gave my hand to Delilah to get her to her feet. She helped Franny in turn, who seemed to almost be in pain from overeating. We made our way downstairs, past the living room where a few kittens were sleeping huddled up in piles of blankets here and there, and finally out to the lobby where we all stared at the blustery rain washing across the landing pad outside. ¡°Drive safe,¡± I said. ¡°And give me a call tomorrow... maybe a few hours after five?¡± Gomorrah chuckled. ¡°I will, no worries. Taking on the aliens is always more fun when there¡¯s more of us on the scene. And more explosive too.¡± I grinned. ¡°Damned right.¡± Lucy went around, giving everyone goodbye hugs, and I got swept up in all of that too. And then the two were off, running over to the Fury while covering their heads from the downpour. ¡°That was nice,¡± I said. ¡°It was,¡± Lucy agreed. ¡°She¡¯s a good friend. Hot too.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. ¡°Jealous?¡± She laughed. ¡°You wish. Unless getting cucked is a kink you haven¡¯t told me about?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± I said. I leaned over and gave her forehead a careful peck. ¡°Should we head back in? I think I saw some trash bags somewhere, and we can stuff the leftovers away for tomorrow.¡± ¡°Mmhm, that sounds nice,¡± Lucy said. ¡°And then a nice long shower, which I deserve after doing all the work tonight.¡± ¡°Ah yes, my hard-working Lucy, carrying all the boxes around and only stealing a bit of the food for herself.¡± That earned me a smack, followed by a chase through our new home. *** Chapter Seventy - I Just Want The Sky On Fire Chapter Seventy - I Just Want The Sky On Fire "You know that saying, ''there''s always a bigger fish?'' well, it ain''t true. Eventually you hit whales and there''s nothing bigger. But with the Antithesis? The Anathema? Yeah, with them, there really is always a bigger fish." --Back Grounder, during Samucon panel interview, 2038 *** I never considered it before, but the sky being on fire really was quite pretty. I think it was the red and oranges contrasting well with all of the deep blues. Then there were suddenly long streaks ripping through the boiling balls of fire above. Tiny black forms that unfurled into massive antithesis forms. I zoomed into one of them, trying to take in as many details as I could. It looked like a model... twenty-two? Those big pterodactyl looking ones. I remember almost getting messed up by one when I was a brand new baby samurai. This one''s body looked a little larger, and its wings were stubbier and covered in strange ridges. Feathers? Meat flaps? I wasn''t sure from so far away. It could be anything. Maybe some sort of biological thing that allowed the bastards to fly their way through space? They were followed by more. Aliens dipping through the screen of fire that Gomorrah had put up. Some were smoking and charred, but plenty more seemed fine. "They''re low enough now," Crackshot said. "Low enough for wha--" I began. I was interrupted by the jack-hammer thumping of massive guns. I looked over, and the gun emplacement I''d bought was opening fire along with a few others. A round sent up every second, alternating between barrels one after the other. I tilted my neck back again to see what that was amounting to. The rounds were... not smart, but they had some guidance to them. I wasn''t surprised when the alien I''d marked out earlier had a face-to-shell meeting that ended with a small explosion that turned it into so much scrap biomatter. "Looks like things are going alright," I said. There were a lot of shells going up now, not just my gun, but from a few dozen others. Machine guns picked up the fire, as well as a few missile launchers and flak cannons. Unfortunately, there was also a lot of sky to shoot at. Blanketing the entire sky would be a whole ordeal. I squinted as more black specs started to appear above. Guns turned, and tracking software picked out ranges, trajectories, and planted rounds into stranglers, but there were more and more of them, and after a solid two or three minutes of non-stop firing, I was starting to notice when the criss-crossing lines of tracer rounds were targeting aliens that were much lower to the ground. I almost jumped out of my skin when a corpse splattered to the ground a dozen metres away. It was smoking and riddled with holes, its body looking like it had passed through a strainer and then got the shit kicked out of it, but it was recognizably a model twenty-two... or a quarter of a model twenty-two at this rate. More bits of aliens were starting to rain down around us, as well as tiny bits of shrapnel. Gros Baton was the first to dart into cover, crouching down under my mech as a chunk of metal pinged off its side. I ran over to join him, and Crackshot moved over to the entrance of the bunker. "We''re going to have some of this for a while," he said in a shout. "We can''t afford to be hiding when they finally make it close!" "You think they''ll make it close?" I asked. "Don''t be overconfident, yeah?" That was a fair point. Assuming that we had enough to take them all out was asking for them to swoop in and wreck a few guns, then things would slowly tilt the other way and we''d be dealing with angry flying aliens all over the place. "Hey, get to cover," I said to Gros Baton. "I''m hopping into the mech." "Correct!" he said with a little salut, then he zipped out towards the bunker with his coat pulled up over his head, as if he was avoiding some rain. I ducked to the side and sent the right order to my mech''s computer. It lowered itself down with the front popping itself open to make room. I grabbed on, pulling myself up and into the cockpit. It took some reshuffling once within to tuck my coat away but soon enough I was in the seat and plugging myself in properly. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.There was that familiar moment of disorientation as my augs'' many screens were shuffled away and replaced by all of the system messages and alerts and the usual heaps of quick-glance information I needed to operate my mech. My feet settled into place on the pedals and I wiggled my fingers loose before grabbing onto the controls. My ammo counters all read full. My targeting system was pinging off of debris and bits of aliens above as they came into range, and the mech''s comms system was sifting through heaps of reports from across the country and from two dozen PMCs and governmental agencies, not to mention the Family and some smaller samurai groups. "Alright," I muttered mostly to myself. "I''m ready to kill shit." Killable things are on their way. "Hell yeah," I said. Myalis was, as usual, spot on. The aliens raining down from above soon grew from one or two quick-moving stranglers to a full on rain of bodies. The AA guns around the compound started to twitch, more rockets went screaming up, and now when they detonated it was close enough to kick up dust off the ground. Gomorrah''s fire-based explosives were going off less than a kilometre above, and that was close enough to warm the ground up. The humid patches left by the last bit of rain started to steam, and I saw soldiers ducking for cover between the blasts. The rest of the AA continued to shoot through the fireball, and for good reason, as aliens continued to tumble through. "North east sector!" someone cried over the comms. The mech''s systems had picked it up and flagged it as high-priority. "We''ve got--fuck!" I aligned myself with the gun, then turned to face north. There, on the far end of the camp. A large model was climbing up over the dirt and sandbag wall surrounding the camp. A few soldiers were backing away from it, sparks going off as they emptied their rifles in the general direction of the antithesis. It was a big bastard, as tall as my mech when it stood on its wings, with a long, narrow face that had something approaching a beak. It stabbed down and just barely missed skewering a soldier who had leapt back and out of the way. Smaller models were hopping off of its sides and back. Model ones? They seemed a bit thinner than the usual bird-like models I saw, but also much ganglier, with longer wings and bodies. I didn''t waste any time locking my Gatling guns on the big fuck and opening up. The twin Brrrrrs of my guns roaring was soon accompanied by the musical tinkle of hot brass cases clinking off the ground. The bigger alien stumbled back, my guns punching several hundred holes across its chest and wings and ripping into its head. Just to be sure, I lined up a shot with one of my bigger guns and my index twitched over the trigger. A single 105mm shell punched a hole through the alien''s middle large enough to crawl through. It slammed down onto the ground, very dead. I turned, scanning for more, and it didn''t take long for me to find stuff to shoot. The antithesis were mostly getting their shit kicked in by all of the AA installations we had around the area, but a few, because of blind luck or because they were just that tough, were making it past all of the defences. They mostly came sweeping down with punctured wings, covered in scorch marks, and often with missing limbs from close-calls. I took it upon myself to finish them off. It was impressive what a 105mm high-explosive shell could do to ruin some alien fuck''s afternoon. "Haha! Bienvenue sur Terre, mother fuckers!" Gros Baton was shouting as he shot a pair of large LMGs upwards. I don''t think he was aiming so much as just... shooting a whole lot in the general direction of the aliens. It was working, though, and I think his enthusiasm was encouraging the nearby soldiers too. Yeah, we had this shit in the bag. Big target incoming. Big target? I looked ahead, then blinked as something huge burst through the wall of fire Gomorrah had going above us. It was still a solid couple of kilometres away, but it was so massive that it felt closer. An alien large enough to swallow a city bus whole, its body covered in gaping, bleeding holes and licks of fire, but its wings still beat, and it was still coming down right on us. "Ah, okay then," I said. Maybe 105mm wasn''t enough after all? *** Chapter Seventy-One - She Without Sin Drops The First Shoe Chapter Seventy-One - She Without Sin Drops The First Shoe "Whenever you think you have a clear and precise idea of what the Antithesis are capable of, a new model shows up that breaks that preconception. It''s very much possible that these creatures are not beholden to the same physical limitations that make like on Earth possible. Or perhaps it would be safer to say that they have found ways to circumvent, through blind chance or guided evolution, the laws that make for the foundations of our biological sciences." --Doctor Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove, 2034 *** "Myalis, what in the fuck is that?" I asked. My mech''s targeting software had no issues locking onto the big flyer above, probably because it was the size of a literal barn with nothing between us and it except for zipping tracer fire. I watched as lines of light machine gun fire stitched themselves across the alien''s underside. That is a Model Thirty-One. It''s a space-capable flying model that can serve as a light transport and which can rapidly birth new hives. It can also produce its own sub-model type. "It can make whats?" I asked. The fat fuck above seemed to contract in on itself, then it shifted around, its wings sort of gorging outwards until they became larger. It looked a little like one of those manta-rays, but with a mouth at the front large enough to swallow a sedan. Then more mouths opened up all along its sides. They had disturbingly human lips, and from the look of them, they were covering a hole large enough for someone to crawl into. The model swelled some more, then there was a loud spitting sound. Large gobs of mucus shout out of the mouths all along its sides, each one flung in a different direction. "What in the fuck," I muttered even as my mech''s targetting locked onto the spit balls. They... turned in midair? I let the mech start shooting at them with its Gatling guns, but I marked the nearest to be left alone. It swung around, the snot stuck to it peeling off as it flew. I squinted at it, then recoiled when it kind of stretched out. It was an alien, not some lump of mucus or just a projectile. A small, cross-shaped bird thing with horizontal and vertical wings. Four long, thin tentacles trailed after it like streamers, and as they twisted and flicked, the little flying alien spun in the air and changed directions. It came crashing down sharply just a dozen metres away, and I shifted my mech to have a better view of it. The models ''wings'' ripped off its back, turning into four long, multi-jointed arm things that it started to use to scamper about. Its tentacles were snapped out towards a nearby soldier who screamed and jumped away. I walked over and stomped it flat with my mech''s forepaw. "What the fuck was that?" I asked Myalis. A model Thirty-One slash One. It''s the Model Thirty-One''s primary offensive tool. A sub-model that the larger flyer can create and spit out. They are somewhat unwieldy, but still quite strong. Fortunately, they are quite ill-suited to combat in a gravity-based environment. Their excretions and tentacles allow them a great deal of manoeuvrability in space, at least within relatively short ranges. Yeah, fuck all of that. I flicked on the comms to the general channel that was being used for tactical shit. "Stray Cat here. Put a higher priority on the Model Thrity-Ones. The big fucks. They can summon smaller aliens. They don''t seem that strong on their own, but we don''t need them spreading around." I got a few ''yes ma''ams'' and nodded to myself as I refocused above. The Model Thirty-One was in a rough shape already. It had tanked a few more bigger strikes and the constant AA fire was ripping it apart. Sure, it was a model in the thirties, which made is scary as fuck, but it was also taking on the full might of an entire anti-air network. I aimed my 105mm guns up and took a few pot-shots, then I aimed my railgun up and got a lock. It was somewhat awkward. The gun had piss-poor traversal, and it was in my mech''s chest, so I had to stand with my forelegs on a small building, but I managed. A single loud thump from my railgun and there was a hole punched through the Model Thirty-One from chest to back. Its armoured sides could only take on so much, it seemed. That spelled the end for it. Its big sacs deflated, and after spitting out a couple more of those 31/1s, it came crashing down about two hundred metres out from the edge of the base around the Big Gun. I glanced at the sky. There were still lots of aliens coming down, but I had a minute to spare. Rushing over and around some tents, I came out of the side of the base just in time to see Tankette rolling her tank in the same direction. "Just making sure it''s dead-dead," I said as I linked to her. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "Oh, that''s good," she replied. Her speech was hard to make out over the rumble that came from inside her tank. "I was coming over to do just that." I shrugged, and we both sat in comfortable... not-silence as we laid into the alien corpse. I switched out the ammo in my 105mm guns for some incendiary rounds to light it on fire after a bit. "Keep an eye on it," I said before stepping back towards the base. Things were okay, more or less. A glance upwards revealed a dozen more Model Thirty-Ones, as well as plenty of big fliers moving around them as escorts, but for the most part we had some time before they got too close. Better yet, they weren''t all able to withstand our AA fire. Plenty of them were imitating the Hindenburg at the moment, turning into burning sacs of organic goop that were melting even as they came plummeting down out of control. The heavy thumps as they struck the ground were a good sign. I figured that terminal velocity was as good a weapon as any. "Any updates?" I sent out. Surprisingly, or maybe not, Gomorrah called me a few seconds later. "Cat," she started. "Hey," I said as I settled back and allowed my mech to take care of the lock-ons and the next few shots. At most I moved around a little to help line things up. "What''s up?" "Things are going... well enough. We''re not too far from our best-case scenario for this engagement. At least, the Family''s idea of a best-case." "That''s good, no?" I asked. "Best-case is the best case, let''s go! Woo. Hurrah." I kept tracking some of the bigger models with my mech''s eyes. The nearer ones were taking a fair bit of damage, but they were getting closer, and because the fire was focused closer, it meant that the ones behind were dropping lower with less damage taken. I was seeing a pattern forming, and I wasn''t sure I liked it. Then the sky filled with rocket-trails, some coming from nearby, others from way off near New Montreal, and the higher-flying models suddenly had to deal with massive explosions all around them. "It is good, yes," Gomorrah said. "Except that we now have an issue, and that''s a worse-case scenario kind of issue." "Ah. You know, the moment you called I figured you were waiting with a shoe to drop on my head," I said. "I''m surprised you even know that expression," Gomorrah said. "When you''re from a place like where I was raised, you get to learn all of the expressions that have to do with shit getting worse," I deadpanned. "What''s the sitch?" "We had a suspicion that the Antithesis would be dropping signal pheromones across the atmosphere," Gomorrah said. "It was one of the Family''s bigger fears." "Why? We''re already in the middle of a global incursion." "Because with prevailing winds, there''s a very real chance that those signal pheromones will stay up there for weeks or months. It means trouble over a much greater timeframe." I... had a hard time caring when the current issue we were dealing with was right in our face, not weeks or months away. "Who cares?" I asked. "All the people who don''t want to die in a week?" Gomorrah asked. I rolled my eyes, then paused and did it again. Did... did my mech roll its eyes too? Why was that even programmed in? "We can take care of that later. Unless there''s anything we can do about it now?" "There might be some weather control systems that would pull the pheromones down. It won''t be worth doing until we''ve finished clearing out the swarm, however. A reduction in visibility now would be ill-conceived. In the meantime, expect all nearby hives to awaken and converge. We know what they''ll be producing." "We do?" I asked. Gomorrah sent over a package. I opened it, then stared. It was a scientific report. A Field Analysis of the Pheromones over the North American Hemisphere and Their Indicators and Possible Meanings. The rest of the document was page after page of text, with a few graphs to break it up. It didn''t even have the common courtesy to be in dark mode. "What''s this?" I asked. "The Pheromones will be summoning flying-type antithesis from any available hives. We can expect a surge in Model Ones in the next day, extending out to... whenever we get around to eliminating the hives that received the message." "Well, that''ll be something," I said. Could be worse, could be better. We''d handle it. In the meantime, I wanted to see if I couldn''t snipe more of those bigger fucks with my railgun. *** Chapter Seventy-Two - Behold My Catlike Grace Chapter Seventy-Two - Behold My Catlike Grace "Grace isn''t just about looking good while doing the impossible. It''s about making sure everyone else knows you''re better at it than they are¡ªand maybe stepping on a few necks along the way. Figuratively. Mostly." --Attributed to Emosycthe Mordeath Noir, early 2050s *** The next twenty minutes were kind of boring. Even the constant drumming and thumps of multiple AA guns turning the sky into pin-cushion land was something I could get used to. And then, on the twenty-first minute, things stopped being boring, but in the bad way. I got a call. It was flagged as urgent, and it was coming from Grasshopper. "Where''s the fire?" I asked as soon as I answered. "Hello, Catherine," Grasshopper said. "Are you busy right now?" I stared ahead, where I was moving my mech so that I could line its railgun up with a target some two klicks above and away. "No?" I said. "Oh, fantastic, because I have a bit of a disaster that I''d appreciate your help with," she said. I took the shot, then stepped back, allowing the railgun to cool off while I gave Grasshopper my full attention. "Alright, what''s the disaster?" "I''ve made a lot of friends in the wider Samurai community, as you may be aware, and I always keep an eye out on new up-and-comers, just in case they need a helping hand!" "Uh-huh," I said. Gosh, I loved Grasshopper, she was a sweetheart, but holy crap was she ever bad at getting to the point. "In this case, a whole lot of samurai have answered the call. There are vanguard peppered all across the country working real hard to keep people safe and destroy as many enemies as possible. A lot of these are newer, however, and I''ve been keeping an eye on them, just in case." "I''m following so far," I said. "Is one of them in trouble?" "Just so!" she said. "I''d give you a gold star, but we are in a bit of a hurry, I think. They''re a... rather reserved samurai who has been a vanguard for some time, but they usually keep to themselves. I only met them a couple of times, and I always had the impression that while they were competent, they would really rather keep to themselves. I named them, you know!" "You want me to pop over and check on them?" I asked. "Yes please! I''d appreciate it. They''re closer to you than I am, and I''m currently watching over a small group of new friends who could really use the help. Her name is Shy, by the way. I''ll have Bybyt send her coordinates over!" "Bybyt?" I asked. Didn''t that mean ''bug'' in French? "My AI friend! Did I never introduce you? Oh, you''ll love them, they''re quite friendly! Anywho, toodles! Thank you for trying to save my friend''s life!" Grasshopper cut off the call and left me stranded there with a heap of confusion. I shook my head when I received a ping. Coordinates, from Bybyt the AI. As well as a small introductory digital postcard, because of course Grasshopper''s AI would be just as extra as Grasshopper herself. "Myalis, can you make sense of these numbers? And... if it''s far enough, I''m going to need a carrier to get my mech from here to there." Certainly. These are standard coordinates. Vanguard Shy is some seventy-nine kilometres northwest of your current position. As for carriers, I have some options. "Nothing that''s shaped like a cat carrier," I said. I have fewer options, but some remain. You could purchase a small transport vehicle for approximately nine hundred points. It will be capable of lifting your Nyanzerfaust and moving it. It has no defensive capabilities, but the mech''s own weaponry should suffice against lighter opponents. "As long as it can go seventy-ish kilometres quickly and then survive the trip back, I''ll be happy. Get me something that''s not too loud, too. I don''t need to alert the entire area that I''m around." I blinked as a large vehicle appeared nearby. Myalis had decided against summoning it in a box, which was probably for the best since I didn''t want to get out of my mech to figure that out. The carrier was built on four skinny legs, with a large turbine on each corner mounted so that they could tilt a little. There were those long glowing slat things that all hovercars had as well. It didn''t take a genius to figure out how it worked. My mech fit right under it, and there was a large clamp that came down right over the back of my mech''s neck and hooked on. I shifted the mech''s paws so that there was on standing on all four of the pylons on the corners, and then the entire thing was linked into the mecha''s control system. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I... did not know how to fly very well, but the carrier had an auto-levelling system and was otherwise pretty simple, control-wise. "Point me in the right direction, please," I said. Myalis threw up some pointers on my Augs, and I nodded. "And can you tell the people ground-side not to shoot me out of the sky? Maybe send a message to the group chat explaining what I''m up to. I''ll be back in a few." Sent and sent. "Thanks," I said. "So, what do we know about this Shy samurai?" Unsurprisingly little. Her records reveal that she had been a Vanguard for two years, and then the records remain rather sparse. A few showings at some minor incursions, including in the very incursion where you became a Vanguard, but no record of any large high-tier kills. "Okay," I said. Maybe Grasshopper was spot-on with that name. Shy seemed to be living up to it. "Any idea what her speciality is?" She doesn''t seem to have a clearly visible one yet. Yet? After two years? I had something going on after an afternoon. Then again, I was probably not a very good yardstick for measuring shit by. The very helpful little distance readout projected before me ticked down until there were only a dozen kilometres left. The whole ''moving in a straight line from A to B'' thing really cut down on how long it took to get places, and the skies further out from the Big Gun weren''t nearly as busy with AA fire, which made for much smoother flying. When the coordinates counter hit zero, I came to a full stop and scanned the area. It was a small town, the same sort of bumfuck nowhere that Gros Baton had lived in, but without the benefit of a coordinated community and a local samurai to keep the plants at bay. This town had twenty or so homes on a T-intersection, and the only two larger buildings were an old pub and a firefighter''s station that looked like it doubled as the town hall. It didn''t take long for me to spot some antithesis. A flight of model-ones was zipping across the town''s only intersection towards a few packed-together homes. No, not just model ones. There were a few of those Thirty-One-Slash-Ones, the weird plus-shaped freaks with the tentacles were doing a good job of keeping up with the Model Ones. Now, if they were all heading that way, then there had to be something calling them in that direction. I flew over, and soon discovered something running across a wide backyard. Footsteps on unmowed grass, and my thermal sights were showing something running away from the widening flight of aliens. The something turned and there were a few quick muzzle flashes before a few aliens were evaporated out of the air. That only took out a few of them, however, and the motion revealed that what I had thought was some sort of invisibility suit was more like a cloak. From above, it was great. From the ground? Probably not so much. The Model Ones rushed upwards, flipped, then shot out towards the lone Samurai. The bigger tentacle-y flyers shot ahead, tentacles coming around like whips. I disengaged the clamp holding me in place. If the aliens expected to have a multi-ton mech crash into the ground between them and their prey, then they sure knew how to act surprised. I especially liked to imagine that their emotionless monster faces had a flash of regret on them before I opened up with my canons. The blast alone was enough to pulp the nearest of them with nothing more than displaced air. The few actually struck by twin 105mm rounds... didn''t make it. Then I let loose with the twin shoulder-mounted Gatling guns, spraying the space ahead of me with a very tactical figure-eight motion right through the middle of the swarm before I allowed the mech''s self-targeting to take over to pick out stragglers. "Hey," I said out of the mech''s exterior-mounted speakers. "You good back there?" I glanced through the camera mounted on the back of my mech and found a slack-jawed young woman, her face covered in splotches of white and brown and her eyes opened wide. "Yeah, that''s how people ought to look when they see me," I said. "Grasshopper said you might need a hand?" *** Chapter Seventy-Three - Its Always The Quiet Ones Chapter Seventy-Three - It''s Always The Quiet Ones "What about... Quiet? No, that''s too on the nose hmm? Oh! Lady Shylance? You''d need to pick up a lance for that. Ah! Just Shy, then?" --Recording of a conversation between Samurai Grasshopper, and a wall, 2056 *** "You good?" I asked before checking my mech''s scanners. There were a few living antithesis around, but they were flopped onto the ground, with hefty chunks of their bodies missing, and I figured that the whole ''living'' thing would rectify itself soon enough. I refocused on Shy. My guns were relatively silent...ish, all things considered, but they had shot right next to the samurai and I didn''t know if she had ear protection. If she was shy by default, I couldn''t imagine how she''d be if I blew out her eardrums. Stepping back very slowly let me see the woman a little better. Shy was a thin twenty-something in an all-black outfit wearing something like a long poncho with a hood and a sort of cloak bit at the back. Her suit was armoured from what I could tell. Her face was partially exposed. She had these sorts of large goggles on, which still let me see her wide-eyed stare. Her skin seemed a little strange? Motley. At first I thought she had burn scars like me, but it didn''t seem like that. That one thing where people''s skin was two-coloured, maybe? It started with a ''v'' but I couldn''t remember the name. "You good?" I repeated. She looked down, as if checking herself, then let go of her gun. It hung off her side by a strap while she tapped herself all over real quick. Then she paused and shyly, slowly, looked back up. She nodded. "Uh, yeah, good," I said. "Can you talk? Or like, sign?" Shy blinked, all without meeting my mech''s face with her gaze. She reached down towards her neck and... tugged up a piece of cloth that covered the few parts of her face that had been exposed. I wasn''t getting the feeling that she''d be chatting with me anytime soon. Then I got a ping, from Myalis. It seems as though Vanguard Shy wishes to forge a connection between her AI assistant and myself. I''m ambivalent about it. I shut off the mech''s microphones so that she couldn''t overhead. "Is that dangerous?" No. "Uh, you sound sure of yourself," I said. Her AI is a thousand years too young to pose a threat to me. In any case, this isn''t too unusual. Vanguard who work together frequently sometimes do this. I''ve been in contact with Atyacus quite frequently, for example. Asking for this level of connection outright is a little strange, but not dangerous or a threat. "Okay?" I tried. "So, what would that even do?" Every Vanguard AI is already networked together, to some degree or another. This would merely allow you to hear what this Vanguard wants to convey through her AI assistant. In this case, in the form of text and sound-based communication. "Would you say yes to it?" I asked. It''s harmless, so I don''t see why not. I suspect that this Vanguard has communication issues and her AI is willing to assist. I considered it for a moment, but then gave up on thinking. If Myalis said it was safe, then I could probably trust her. If the day came that I couldn''t, then I was fucked anyway. "Sure, patch them in," I said. Patching! There was a small blip, and then text appeared at the bottom of my vision even as someone else spoke up. It sounded like they, he? Was standing right in front of me and talking with a rather posh-sounding accent. "Greetings! I am Latyns, Lady Shy''s personal AI assistant. It''s a pleasure to meet you, Vanguard Stray Cat." "Yeah, pleasure''s all mine," I said. "So, any reason why Shy set this up?" "Ah, indeed. Lady Shy is somewhat averse to speaking aloud with strangers, and so I have been tasked with translating her wants to you directly." "Right," I said. I looked over to Shy who was... muttering something under her breath. She looked up for a moment, met my mech''s eyes, then she nodded her head low in what was almost a bow. "Lady Shy thanks you for your assistance. Without your timely aid it was possible that she wouldn''t have survived this encounter with the Model Thirty-One." "Wait," I said. Then, realising that I could ask her directly instead of going through her AI, I flicked on my mech''s mic. "Wait, you downed a Model Thirty-One?" I asked. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Shy nodded slowly. She half-turned, then pointed back the way she''d been running from. I saw her jaw move a little before Latyns piped up again. "Lady Shy shot the alien out of the sky some half kilometres away from here. The model was injured already, but her final strike took it down. It is not yet dead, however, merely incapacitated." I could leave Shy here. Let her finish off her kill now that there weren''t as many flyers around, and she''d earn herself a nice heap of points for her troubles. On the other hand... I could already hear Grasshopper nagging me for not keeping an eye on the girl. "Want me to give you a ride over to the Thirty-One?" I asked. "You can hop on top and I''ll run over to where it landed." Shy seemed to consider it, then she muttered something too low for me to pick up. Was she subvocalizing? "Lady Shy would appreciate the assistance. She has some equipment that had to be abandoned at haste by the location where the Model Thirty-One crashed. She has two concerns however." "Go on," I said. "First, the Lady worries that your vehicle and presence might be somewhat loud." "I can be quiet too, you know?" I said. A flick of a switch activated the mech''s stealth functions, and it suddenly grew a lot quieter. Then it went fully invisible. Well, almost fully. Some panels were open at the moment, and the insides weren''t covered in the same stealth-screen coating shit that made the entire mech transparent at will, but it was stealthier than just standing there as a giant mechanical tiger. I saw Shy''s big, expressive eyes blink. "The Lady is impressed. Her second concern was one of comfort." "Comfort how?" I asked. "Why, she wonders if two people will fit within your mechanised unit''s cockpit." "You want to sit in my mech?" I asked. Shy stared. "Where else would she find herself if you were to carry her?" "I mean, I was thinking you could hang on to the side? Or like, ride the mech on top? Like... a really big horse?" Shy started up at me. She had some really pretty eyes under those tech-goggles. Grey-ish blue, and very soulful. Also, very disappointed. "You know, for someone so shy, you seem real eager to get in here with me. Usually people wait for a few days before getting it on with all the skinship." Shy leaned back onto her heels, then quickly shook her head. "Lady Shy wishes to clarify, with great enthusiasm, that you are inherently incorrect in your assumptions." "Uh-huh." "She has decided that walking back is acceptable." Before I had time to reply to that, Shy spun around and started running back. She quickly faded from view, her poncho-cloak turning her invisible. So, another stealth specialist, then? Not that I had really been leaning into that lately. Stealth was cool when you were punching up, but once you have big guns it kind of took a back seat to just exploding your enemies. Shy was a pretty quick runner. I might have lost sight of her, but Myalis painted an outline over her current position, so as I bounced up and after her, I was able to keep up without squishing her underfoot. I split my attention between moving forwards and keeping an eye on my mech''s readings of the area. Spending time playing mechanic hadn''t been a waste. I knew more about how to pilot this machine than ever before, and that really let me use the whole of it. "Model Ones ahead," I warned. "Might be a few of those flyers the Thirty-One spits out too." Shy''s hand appeared from out under her poncho and she gave me a thumb''s up. Right, working with her was going to be interesting, and maybe not in the fun way. We shot past the backyard of an old farmhouse, then Shy leapt over a decrepit wooden fence and into a spot filled with younger trees. It had probably been a field just five or six years ago, but now it was well past overgrown and starting to become a forest of sorts. My mech crashed through the smaller trees. Fortunately, they were mostly leafless, so it wasn''t all that loud. It wasn''t too subtle, either. The aliens caught on quickly enough. We were going to have to ditch the stealth stuff, unless Shy wanted me standing atop her again to keep the birds off. I didn''t want to make a habit of it. *** Chapter Seventy-Four - I Have The Shy Ground Chapter Seventy-Four - I Have The Shy Ground "That''s NOT how recoil works. Hell, that''s not how physics works. No, I don''t care that you''re a samurai or whatever. While you''re human, in this universe, you obey the laws of physics, dammit!" --Professor K. Dick, Psysics dept. MIT, 2033 *** I tried to be somewhat subtle as I moved through the woods. Shy was ahead of me, and she caught on soon enough that my mech was on the wider side of things. That meant that she mostly picked out a route with fewer trees, or at least more room between them whenever possible. I was still crashing through the woods, rustling branches and breaking young trees with loud snaps. There was subtle, then there was multi-ton mecha subtle. There was really only so much that could be done at the end of the day. Shy half-turned, and I could only just make her out from the very slight shimmer in the air where she stood. Her camo was good, but it still warped a little when contrasted against a complex surface, like fallen trees and piles of leaves. She raised a hand out from beneath her poncho, a finger raised in a ''one-moment'' kind of gesture. I paused, lowering my mech down a little so that I wasn''t poking out of the canopy as much. A flight of Model Ones swooped by overhead. Little raven-like heads tilting this way and that as their too-many-eyes scanned the woods. Looking past them, into the wider sky above, I could make out distant tracer shots still leaving marks across the sky. There was the occasional ''pop'' and ''bang'' of flak bursts going off. Sometimes I could hear the whistle of a rocket reaching up into the atmosphere. Those would be accompanies by a small spark, like a tiny second sun for just a moment as something was fucked up way out above the atmosphere. The number of aliens coming down from above seemed to be slowing down? Maybe? I wasn''t sure. The amount of shots going up certainly seemed to have dwindled a fair bit. Shy gestured me forwards, and I followed. The flock of Model Ones had moved on. It seemed as if they were patrolling the area for a bit before heading off towards the south west a little. The same direction as the Big Gun. I had to get back there sooner rather than later if I wanted to help. Shy led me around in a wide arc, and I realized that we were slowly heading back towards a roadway, one with an old stone bridge over a small creek. There were some things discarded on the roadside. One of those things looked a lot like a gun. A big one. Shy ran over to it, then knelt down while swishing her poncho out so that it covered most of the gun. I could still see part of her though, hands quickly moving over the blocky receiver, checking it over for damage and pulling back the bolt. "What''s that gun?" I asked. Shy glanced up to me, then back down. I almost caught her saying something before her AI filled me in. "Lady Shy has two specialities. Stealth, which keeps her hidden and discrete, and her weapon speciality is shotguns." "Shotguns?" I asked. That thing was longer than I was tall. "That''s a shotgun?" Shy looked up to me and spoke for the first time that I could actually hear. "Punt gun." What the fuck was a punt gun? Shy answered by reaching down to a small case on the floor and carefully flipping the lid with the end of a boot. It revealed space for three shells, but two were missing. The third was about as big around as my wrist. Shy picked it up with both hands, then opened a slot on the side of her gun and shoved the shell in. She cocked the gun by pulling out a small lever from the side. Then sitting down on the ground, she tugged back with her entire body, like a rower upping back on a paddle. The gun clunked. She stood up, patted down her pants, then lifted up the entire gun, seemingly with little difficulty. "How much does that thing weigh?" I asked. "Lady Shy''s rifle weighs eight kilograms. It''s mostly made of aluminium and titanium to keep its weight down." "And that fires one fuck-big slug?" I asked. Shy shook her head. I actually got a second word out of her. "Birdshot." You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. She took down a Model Thirty-One with birdshot? That was ballsy. "What do you usually use? When you''re not punt gunning things?" Shy reached into her poncho and pulled out a smaller gun. Smaller, as in only as long as her forearm, but it had a barrel large enough to fit a few fingers in. "Four gauge," she said. The gun had a weird stock, but I didn''t have time to examine it before she disappeared it back under her poncho. I turned my mech around and scanned the area. It wasn''t hard to spot where the Model Thirty-One went down. A few of its flyers were spinning circles above and there was a bit of a trench blown through the forest leading towards where I suspected it was laying. "Let''s finish this job, then I need to head back to the Big Gun, to keep it safe." Shy nodded. "Lady Shy understands and appreciates your need to move quickly. She also appreciates your assistance in this matter." "Yeah, no prob," I said. "Want me to clear the skies while you get close to the big guy and finish it off?" Shy nodded sharply then she took off running towards the edge of the bridge. I was wondering what she was planning when she jumped up with surprising ease for someone carrying such a big gun. Two shot guns slid out from under her poncho, held facing downwards by mechanical arms that had to be attached to her back. They fired, and launched Shy into the air with their recoil. "The fuck?" I muttered. Physics wasn''t supposed to do that. It seems as though she''s invested in a device that lightens her own mass considerably. So that her own shotgun shots could yeet her through the air? That... was not the smartest thing I''d ever seen. "Couldn''t Shy buy a jumpjet pack for like, way less?" I don''t question the purchases of others. Yeah, fair enough. I realized that I was falling behind. Shy''s arc through the air was shifting. She was coming back down, her cloak and poncho fluttering around her as she came in for a hard landing. Then her guns blasted again. They were pretty quiet, though they blew two holes into the earth behind her. I took off running to catch up, which didn''t take long. Sure, she had super jumps on her side, but I had a big mecha. I caught up even as I started to lock all of the flyers above into my mech''s targeting software. Shy landed nearby, then nodded to me once. "Lady Shy is going to head upwards as soon as the skies are cleared and take the finishing shot." "Got it," I replied before flicking my Gatlings on. I checked my ammo counter and nodded. A few hundred rounds left. I''d have to order up some more soon, but it would be enough if I stopped the guns from free-firing and set them to only take precise shots. I switched my 105mm guns to flak, then fired twice. The burst ripped into the swarm, then my Gatlings started to spit out rounds, a couple a second, each one smacking a bird out of the air. Shy knelt down close to the ground. I checked ahead. The Model Thirty-One was right there. It was pushing itself up on the ends of its wings. Its body was riddled in long rents and a few holes. Two in particular looked like someone had attacked it for a few hours with a knife and great enthusiasm. Shy''s shotguns went off and she flew upwards into the air. Her legs kicked at the same time, giving her that much more speed. She hung in the air, poncho and cloak fluttering behind, legs splayed out, big gun aimed downwards. There was a blast like the sky ripping itself apart, and Shy zipped away. At the same time, a hole a few feet apart opened up where the Model Thirty-One''s face was. I cleared out the sky, then turned towards the direction where Shy had been flung. "Hey! You good?" "Lady Shy could use some amount of assistance." Frowning, I ran over to where I''d seen her disappear. It didn''t take too long to find her. Her poncho''s stealth only worked when it covered her, and at the moment the poncho and Shy herself were both tangled in the branches of a tree. "You need help up there?" I asked. "..." "Yeah, figured," I said. "So uh, I''ll help you down, then leave you to it, alright?" She slowly raised a thumb''s up. *** Chapter Seventy-Five - The Worth of a Human Chapter Seventy-Five - The Worth of a Human "Studies indicate that 11% to 20% of veterans who served in frontline roles have experienced PTSD in a given year. Likewise, 15% to 35% of Antithesis conflict veterans experience PTSD within a year of their departure from the front lines. Data for the Samurai/Vanguard is limited, but self-admitted cases of PTSD amongst that group suggest that only 1% to 3% of Samurai/Vanguard suffer from PTSD-like symptoms. Whether this is due to the process by which they are chosen or not is uncertain." --VA-PTSD.RD.GOV, Prevalence of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in the Combat Populace, 2046 *** "Alright, you good?" I asked as Shy landed on the ground. She patted her knees clear of dust, then shifted the hood of her cloak back up and over her head. Her clothes were... a bit of a mess, to be honest, but that''s what happened when you were flung into a tree. At least she was partially armoured. She had a padded undersuit beneath that poncho, with some harder looking plates over the chest with a few little pockets here and there. Basic tactical gear stuff, and all very obviously Samurai-made. "Lady Shy wished to reiterate that she is well." "Yeah, that''s good," I said as I backed my mech up and away from the tree she''d been stuck in. I''d used my mech as a sort of ladder to give her something to climb down. There were plenty of handholds where the armoured plates on the exterior of my mech had gaps. "Look, I can''t sit around here for much longer. Will you be okay if I leave you behind, or do you want to come back to the Big Gun?" I didn''t have a fantastic idea of how dangerous the area was, but I could guess that it wasn''t that bad. There hadn''t been many flyers coming down from above. Those that I did see were all shooting out in the same direction I''d come from, and most of those were way, way up in the air. Unless Shy here tried taking massive potshots at them, she was probably going to pass unnoticed. That meant she could probably pick out the targets she wanted. The Model Thirty-One was probably a target of opportunity for her. I was... way newer as a samurai, but I''d been in the thick of it from the start. Shy here was a more normal sort, chilling out at a lower, more reasonable tech level for a longer time. She probably had a whole life that didn''t involve samurai shit. Couldn''t fault her for that. She was here now, doing her thing. Shy hopped on the spot a couple of times, dislodging a few small branches stuck to her poncho, then she checked on her guns, each one rising up from under her cloak so that she could look them over. The way they moved was fluid and fast, and I suspected that she was wired into the controls for them directly. I saw her mouth move behind her scarf a little. "Lady Shy is thankful for your intervention, and more so for allowing her to eliminate that higher-tier model. Having said that, she doesn''t require any additional assistance." "Cool," I said. I called over that mecha-carrier. It was hovering not too far from where I was dropped off. A few model ones had zipped around it, but it wasn''t biological enough for them to nibble at, and it wasn''t hostile, so they treated it as just an obstacle and mostly left it alone. I was sure that wouldn''t be the case if a bigger, smarter model flew by, but for now it was safe enough. It turned, then started moving my way at a slow, careful pace. "If you''ve got any problems, just gimme a call. Your AI buddy can ping Myalis, yeah?" Shy nodded once. She pushed her shotguns down, then gave me a small bow. Then she kind of just... stood there for a moment. I could feel the awkwardness wafting off of her like a weird smell before she turned and scampered away. She went invisible, but that didn''t hide how weird she was. "That girl''s a little strange," I muttered after shutting my exterior speakers off. Most Vanguard fit a set of criteria that don''t comply with normative human behaviour. It''s natural, therefore, for them to stand out as a little strange to the average person. Normal, huh? I shook my head, then moved myself over to the side a little so that I was in a clearer spot for the carrier to come down and grab onto my mech. Once I was clamped in, I shot upwards, angled towards the Big Gun and shot off in that direction. I had Myalis connect with the tactical net that we were using to coordinate our AA. In theory we wouldn''t look like a juicy alien target, but I didn''t want to test it. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. I was pretty sure I could eat a few rounds from the smaller AA guns without any real issue in my mech, but if one of those bigger rockets slammed into me, I''d be a cooked cat before long, and my own 30mm guns probably had enough juice at this altitude to punch right through whatever armour my mech had, or at least it would mess it up. Better safe than punctured. On approach, I noticed a long train of antithesis rushing towards the south. They were spread out in a long line, most of them were flyers. Model Ones, a few Model Elevens, but there were plenty rushing along on the ground as well. The line ended some hundred metres from the Big Gun, where a few fireteams with machine guns were ripping into them. I noticed Hedgehog, Princess and Knight there, along with Tankette in her tank. A constant barrage of mortar fire was punching holes in the formation. I flew around. As much as I might have been tempted to land in the middle of it all, it did look like the newbies had things in hand at the moment. Dropping in now would only disrupt things, and I might get blasted in the crossfire. Better to leave them the work and the points. Instead I aimed for the inside of the camp and swooped in for a landing. A few soldiers were spooked, but they calmed down when they realized that I was in a giant robot cat, not some large plant alien swinging down to make a meal out of them. A quick check showed that Gomorrah was nearby, in one of the command rooms, though she was on her way out. I opened the cockpit of my mech, unhooked myself from the controls, and hopped out. "Hey!" I called out. Gomorrah changed directions slightly, heading closer to me. "You''re back," she said. "Grasshopper''s friend is okay?" "Yeah. She told you about it?" I asked. Gomorrah nodded. "I saw you leaving on the tactical net, so I asked. You should have reported it in, but that you didn''t isn''t too strange." "Yeah, Shy--the samurai that needed a hand--wasn''t in a terrible spot, but she was out on her own. I left her there on her own too, but I think she''ll be able to figure things out." "Good," Gomorrah said. "I might have you run out to a few more samurai that need help. We have some antithesis resistance moving this way, but... it''s well organised." "And that''s good?" I asked. "They''re marching in what passes for neat rows for them," she said. "It makes it easy to rip them apart with artillery. Once the skies have cleared out some more we''ll have the airforce in to reinforce us, and that''ll be it for them." That was pretty good. "So, some samurai need help?" I asked. "How''s the situation overall?" "Three casualties," she said. "That''s it?" I asked. I was sure there had to be more. Were they way underreported? With this many jugheads running around with guns and grenades, I couldn''t believe that only three had died. "Samurai casualties," she clarified. "Ah. Are we not checking the other casualties?" She shrugged. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but they don''t quite matter as much. Not when we need every force multiplier we can get. Besides, it''s hard to keep track of millions. Keeping track of some two hundred samurai is comparatively easy." Something twisted in my gut at that, and it didn''t take a bachelors in ethics to figure out what was wrong with that entire thing. "That''s kinda fucked up, Gom." "I know," she said. "But right now, there are more samurai defending small towns and remote villages than PMCs or soldiers. I mean... there are more towns being defended by us than by the armed forces. They need numbers, logistics. We don''t. Every one of us lost means another small town or frontier lost. It''s... a difficult calculus if you think of every number as human, so we can''t afford to." "That''s a big ask, isn''t it?" "I think it''s why my religion considers us saints. It''s that much easier to think of each samurai as larger than life that way." She started walking again. "I need to replenish the ammunition in some of my AA platforms. Then I''ll be flying out to assist some samurai that might need it. I''d suggest that you do the same." That sounded like a decent idea. I stretched my neck back and looked up into the sky first though. It was still raining aliens, but at least it was petering out, and the clouds were returning. Soon it would be overcast as usual. *** WE HAVE MERCH! It''s here! At long last, after months of planning and trying things, the merch store is finally liiiive! LINK: STRAY CAT STORE You can pick up SHIRTS! And MUGS! And... Stickers? Yeah, there''s STICKERS! Of course, the main draw is the shirts, made by the artist duo VenusBlue and Hana-Jii, we have a full set of shirts coming in. One for each main character in my stories, but also, one shirt for the main character of every fanfiction that reaches a thousand followers! Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! If your SCS fanfic hits the big 1K, then get excited, because you can opt into having your OC on a shirt, with half the proceeds going right to you! (The art is free, of course!) Teddy is already up! Next up, Tinea from Tinea and Leah, then Mai, and then even more! Of course, the Broccoli Bunch shirt is almost ready as well! I''ll be making a big post about that one too, but in the meantime, there''s cute stickers and stuff to grab as well <3 Keep warm, RavensDagger! PS: Canada Post is still on strike, which is really stalling a lot of things for me, but it might also make Canadian deliveries take a smidge longer! Keep that in mind if you''re a Canadian! Chapter Seventy-Six - A Giggle and a Rocket Chapter Seventy-Six - A Giggle and a Rocket "The UFO craze started a little before the Cold War took off, and it mostly concentrated around the United States. Unsurprising, as at the time, the US armed forces were testing several devices that seemed alien to the lay person, and rumours of extraterrestrial sightings only masked the presence of these planes and drones. UFO sighting became a strange hobby for the crackpot and the conspiracy theorist, until the early 2020s, when there was a sudden and powerful resurgence, one that the armies and intelligence networks of the world looked at with growing concern. Then we met aliens, and they weren''t peaceful little green men." --UAPs and UFOs, the Declassifying, 2035 *** I checked up on the newbies, just to be sure, but they really didn''t need the help. The team had grouped up atop one of the defensive structures around the Big Gun compound and were pretty much just having a blast messing up the antithesis whenever they came into range. Someone had given Princess a rocket launcher. Gros Baton was helping her load it up between shots, then she''d stand up on the wall and fire it out in the general direction of aliens that needed blowing up. The rocket was guided, which was the only reason it hit anything. It was a little concerning, hearing her giggle so much between shots. I think she mostly liked the way that the backblast made her poofy princess dress whip out around her. Hedgehog had picked up some new gear. His spikey armour looked different, more LED lighting, sharper spikes, and Knight was... just kinda chilling with her sword on her lap, waiting for the aliens to get within stabbing range. Yeah, they didn''t need my help, so I pulled back and checked on that Family-curated map of local samurai. It looked like a few of the dots had moved around a little. Some tightening in around cities, some dispersing out and away a little. I bet it was a real pain in the ass to herd this many samurai. "Hey, Myalis, any areas where shit''s going wrong?" I asked. There was a sort of heatmap overlay available, but I couldn''t make sense of the lava lamp of colours blobbing around it. There were comments and expert analysis as well, but it was coached in the sort of technical jargon that would take me a while to parse through. Indeed. This area here, within ten minute''s flight of your current location, has been flagged as high-risk. A widening red circle appeared over the map. North west of the Big Gun''s location. Mont-Tremblant? It was a bit past that, actually, but not by too terribly much. The map showed three greyed-out icons. "Why are these greyed out?" I asked. Most of the other samurai icons were bright and easy to spot, except in places like where I stood, where too many of them crowded into one spot and they were all shrunk to fit. The Family was using some generic icons for a lot of samurai, but some of them, of us, had custom logos. The three in the area looked like... a toe, a knight piece from a chess set, and a red dot with an L in it. The three Vanguard in this area have failed to report in. Two are confirmed dead. "What the fuck," I muttered. "Two of the three Gomorrah mentioned as dead are here?" No. When she spoke earlier, all three of these Vanguard were alive and well. So, in the space of... what, ten minutes? Three samurai had died. I licked my lips and zoomed in on the map a little. They''d been relatively close to each other, all arrayed out atop the more mountainous range in that area. Probably for good visibility. "What took them down?" I asked. This could be the aliens, or it could be some corpo fucks that saw and opportunity and jumped on it. I opened a second, third and fourth screen in my augs and quickly typed in the samurai''s names. There was a wiki that kept track of things, pictures, debut dates, armaments, shit like that. At a glance, Cavalier and Track Pad Lad weren''t too impressive. Cavalier was a newer samurai, a guy that started after the global incursion, so on par with the newbies. Track Pad Lad had been around for a couple of years, but his thing was tech stuff. A sort of hacker samurai? His profile showed him very present online, but not so much in any recent incursions. So not a super strong samurai either. ToeJam! was different. A tall, gangly looking sort of guy, dressed like a suit from the eighties. Lots of augmentations though, but they were subtle. Dude had been a samurai for a year and a bit, but he was all over the place. Incursions in the states, one in Brazil, one in Columbia. He was pretty popular in his little niche, and seemed like the kind of guy that got into trouble and then exploded himself out of it. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. He was the only one not confirmed dead. There have been few concrete reports. The Family seems curious as well, of course. A squad of elite family troopers are on their way to investigate now. Myalis highlighted a small trip of moving dots flying across the map from New Montreal. No samurai, so probably just a rapid response team of some sort? "I''m going to link up with them. Can you let the Family know? If it''s corpo fuckery, then we''ll blow some heads off. If it''s the antithesis... then we''ll know when we get closer, I guess." The aliens were rarely anything approaching subtle. Message sent. It seems like you won''t be alone. A Vanguard is heading to investigate as well. "Who?" I asked. Myalis zoomed my map out and added a line going from the south of New Montreal out towards Mont-Tremblant. The samurai''s icon looked like a little shield thing. Their name is Invincible. "Well, that''ll help," I muttered. There wasn''t any point in lingering around. The team sent by the Family was halfway there already, and they were moving pretty fast. So I checked the carrier again and took off upwards, then out. The AA around the Big Gun site hadn''t exactly gone quiet, but it was now only taking potshots at a few lingering aliens above. The swarm was spread out, but it looked like we were just dealing with the tail end of it now. Which made the dead samurai all the more suspicious. We were so close to what I''d call a total victory, so how had these three gone and messed themselves up? I checked over what I could on the way over. The Family had good records of where alien bits had crashed, because it only made sense to track as much of that as possible. Mont-Tremblant wasn''t far, not when you were coming from space and that kind of distance meant nothing, so aliens aiming for the Big Gun who were only a couple of degrees off sometimes veered towards Mont-Tremblant. More veered towards New Montreal, probably because they could see the city from orbit. In any case, the Family''s tracker showed a few coming in close. There was a whole little city up on that hill, with its own defences and such. The samurai there had been taking out fliers that came too low since the sky started to fall. There were records of aliens tumbling down around the area, and... that''s all I really had to work with. I was sure given a few hours I might be able to figure something out, but I also had a cheat that I could use. "Myalis, do we have any clues as to what actually went down?" Are you just asking me because you''re too lazy to look yourself? "I''m not," I said indignantly. "I''m asking because you''re able to figure this shit out in seconds while it''ll take me hours, and we don''t have hours before we arrive." Hmm, I suppose that''s fair. Let''s see... the distribution of Antithesis in the area matches projections. It''s probable that the threat that took out the vanguard in the region was Antithesis borne. So, another alien fuck. Got it. I could handle that. I ended up encountering the Family agents halfway. They were riding in a quad-copter. It was an armoured box, with heavy-duty landing gear and a few small turrets mounted to the sides and bottoms of short, stubby winglets. The kind of thing that was probably significantly more expensive on fuel than the average hover car, but it was also armoured and a whole lot faster. There were three of them, flying in a tight formation, so I moved around and placed myself at the rear of their flying-V and enjoyed the turbulence of their backdraft. Fortunately, it didn''t take long to make it to Mont-Tremblant. The small mountain-top city wasn''t much to look at. A few skyscrapers, some resorts for the rich, and some artificial snow-covered hills for people still into skiing all year round. There was also a lot of smoke. Craters dotted the area, and several buildings were on fire. It looked like the local samurai hadn''t gone quietly. That left me with a bad feeling in my gut. Something bad had gone down here while all of our attention was elsewhere, and I was going to have to find out what. *** Chapter Seventy-Seven - Dead Samurai Tell No Tales Chapter Seventy-Seven - Dead Samurai Tell No Tales "Samurai are our saviours. Our heroes. The people we follow, the madmen and women who force the world to change. And sometimes they die." --President of the United States, Silver Hoop''s eulogy, 2035 *** The Family squad ahead of me landed in an open roadway. Three quadcopters coming down with military-grade precision in the centre of an intersection with their fronts turning so that they formed a sort of triangle. I brought my mech carrier up and into the centre of that formation, then let the clamps go. There was a heavy thump as my mech landed, but I was strapped in well enough that I barely felt it. The choppers'' opened up aIt the rear and disgorged three fireteams out onto the road. These were men and women in all-black armour, with just a few small patches for identification. I felt like I was getting used to working with soldiers, but these people moved differently. I''m not sure if I could point it out, exactly, but it was... tighter? More practised? They swept out of the rides, guns sweeping around as they scanned everything. They all had identical equipment, at least as a base. Small, stubby SMGs strapped to their sides, and a much larger rifle as their primary. I couldn''t see anything about the soldiers under the armour, though. They had face-covering helmets with nubs for night vision and thermal sensor and full-body armour on. They looked like the kind of troops elite corporations would use to send a message. They formed a circle around my mech, every-other soldier dropping to a knee and facing outwards. The worst part was how damned quiet they were about it. Incoming message. The squad leader wants you to connect to their group communication network. "Let''s do it," I said. A moment later someone spoke up. Male, from the voice, scratchy and rough. "Samurai Stray Cat," he said. "I''m One. Good to have you here with us." "Pleasure''s all mine, One," I said. I had no idea which one of them One was. They had little patches on them, but they didn''t have easily readable numbers. At least, not from my angle. "Are you here for the same reason as we were dispatched?" One asked. "Yeah, probably. Three samurai downed in this area. ToeJam might still be alive, the other two are apparently dead. I intend to find out what happened. If it''s aliens, we kill them, if it''s some corpo-meddling, uh, the same." None of the soldiers reacted to that, not even a twitch or a nod. I did notice that a couple of them had some cybernetics. A pair of metallic legs here, some arms that bent in strange ways there. The quadcopters rose up, then shifted away as one. It looked like we might have some air-superiority as long as they hung around, but they were also moving far enough above that it might take a moment. I sent my carrier out to wait near them, and that left me and all of my new, silent soldier friends standing around in absolute silence. "Acknowledged, Home," One said. I had the impression he wasn''t talking to me. "Samurai Stray Cat, our missions align. We''re moving to the last known location of Samurai ToeJam to secure him and proceed with medi-vac. Teams Bravo and Charlie, scouts to LKL of Cavalier and Track Pad Lad. Go!" Two soldiers knelt down and dropped their packs to the floor, as well as their rifles. In seconds they''d pulled out long hooded cloaks and wrapped them around themselves. I heard the faint click of buckles being clipped together, then they went semi-transparent. It wasn''t nearly as good as what I had, or even Shy''s invisibility, but it wasn''t bad, and it looked like it wasn''t Protector tech either. The two took off in a rapid sprint in two different directions, and the way they moved and bounced up unto rooftops... yeah, they weren''t running on human 1.0 hardware. The rest of the soldiers formed up into three small groups. I had a seven-man squad ahead, and two six-men ones on the side. "Moving," One said, and they all started to walk forwards down the road. I pushed my mech to move after them, then quickly activated some of the sound stealth stuff I had. My mech had good ''ears'' on the exterior, to let me have a good sense of what was going on around it, and I could only barely tell that there were people there. They moved at a slow, careful walk, their centre of gravity held low, their guns pressed to their shoulders already. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I''d seen army soldiers clearing Saint-J¨¦rome out. They wished they could move with this much smoothness. "Do we know where ToeJam is?" I asked. "No," One said. "Tacnet suggests he''s one hundred and fifty-five metres ahead. Eyes peeled." Well alright, mister-tightwad. I wanted to grumble a little, but this guy had his shit together, and so did the rest of this bunch. Honestly, looking at this group kind of made me feel antsy. Their guns looked good, their armour top-shelf, and they looked like they knew what they were doing. How would this bunch match up against the average samurai? Probably pretty well. What set us apart was that I had access to all the toys. Cool toys were one hell of a force multiplier, but I was still feeling like... I guess it was like when I played something like ping-pong against the kids. We had a table at the orphanage for a bit, and I got semi-decent at it. It was fun playing against the little shits and showing off, even if they had the advantage of two arms and sometimes bigger, less-shitty paddles. This was the other way around, I supposed. I had the big paddle, currently in the form of my fuck-you mecha, and they had the experience. Well, whatever. I kept my eyes peeled, like One asked. Mont-Tremblant was a nice place. The apartment buildings we were walking next to were all modern, square things with flat roofs and large windows opening up to a pretty nice view of some hilly landscape. A few of those buildings looked like they''d been fucked right up by something large. I saw some flying model corpses splattered here and there too. There''d been some fighting here, but it looked... pretty light? I wasn''t an expert, but from personal experience, heavier fighting usually involved a lot more property destruction. "Confirmed," One said. "Charlie scout has found Track Pad Lad. Confirmed KIA." "Fuck," I muttered. "Any idea what did him in?" There was a decently long pause before One replied. "C-Five, tell us what you can about the mark''s condition?" A second voice finally joined in, the scout that I presumed was C-Five. They sounded feminine, a little, but I might have been off the mark. "They''ve been dead for at least twenty minutes. Possible exsanguination. I see several lacerations across their chest, armour was penetrated. Arms are both broken, legs might be as well. Lower torso was crushed." "Fuck," I said. A shiver ran down my spine. It was... clinical, but I could still imagine it. "Their gear?" "Mark''s gear is still present. Armour is heavily compromised. Weapons... seem intact. Mid-calibre assault rifle and unknown Protector-tech. Can''t divine the state of their electronic gear." I nodded. If it was all still there, then I could probably rule out a corporation being at fault. Plus, no mention of bullet holes or explosive damage. Rents and crushing was more an antithesis way of doing shit. I was still walking along with the soldiers, so I noticed when they all suddenly tensed and stopped moving. "What''s going on?" I asked. I did a sensor sweep, but nothing strange came up. "B-Five is down," One said. B-Five had to be the other scout, the one sent to Cavalier. "Where?" I asked. My map pinged, and I found two pins added to it. One the location of Track Pad Lad, the other Cavalier''s last known location. B-Five''s location was also there, a little dotted line showing them travelling over, then circling around the body before moving in... then they were thrown way the fuck back. Unless they''d gained a lot of speed all of a sudden, it looked almost like they''d been ejected out of the area. "Change in objective," One said. "Alpha Medic, take Alpha Two and Three, rendez-vous with ToeJam." Three of the soldiers, including one with a slightly bigger pack that had a discreet red cross on it, took off at a fast jog. "Alpha squad, on the samurai. We''re keeping her safe. Bravo, vanguard, Charlie, take point." The group rearranged itself in an instant and I had to do a little step-dance to get my mech facing the right direction. I wasn''t liking this whole ''not being in charge'' thing, but as the group started forwards with a bit more pep in their step, I figured it might come in handy to have a bunch of dudes with guns when shit went down. *** Chapter Seventy-Eight - You Are Being Hunted Chapter Seventy-Eight - You Are Being Hunted "Stay safe out there, okay?" Cavalier''s wife, 2057 *** Cavalier''s last known location was just ahead. There was a sort of... I think it might have been a resort? There was definitely a restaurant to one side, with a large patio that was partially covered, as well as a dining room within. To the side of that was a parking lot and then a fancy store that looked like it exclusively sold skiing gear. Both were connected at the rear to a long, low building with a covered walkway on the exterior. From the look of the cars left in the lot, this was the kind of place that was a little expensive for my blood. The entire area felt crooked. Probably because it was on the side of a pretty steep hill, and the ground was pretty sharply angled. The group of soldiers I was tailing slowed down, one of them in the group ahead raised a fist and they came to a halt. I did the same, taking the moment to scan the area. It didn''t take long to see what caught their attention. There was a mechanical horse in the parking lot. Left on its side, bits and pieces of its mechanical innards flung around and its armour-plated side ripped apart. It wasn''t the only sign of a fight. Several cars here were dented and crushed. Windows shattered, tires punctured. It looked like something big had crashed onto them, but whatever that was, it was gone now. "Samurai Stray Cat," One said. His voice coming out of nowhere made me jump a little in my seat. "Yeah?" I asked. "Our tech operator noticed some light scrambling over our secured comms. Can you confirm?" I frowned. Scrambling? As in someone trying to fuck with our communications system? I had a thing for that. Buried somewhere in my augs was an app thing that would let me check for signal strength and whatnot. "Gimme a moment," I said. He''s not incorrect. There is a faint amount of interference. Look. Myalis popped open a screen, and on it was what looked like the wave...thing of the conversation I''d just had with One. She highlighted some bits, little parts that looked slightly off. "I don''t have the degrees to figure that out," I admitted. It''s very light. Faint, even. From experience, I believe that you''re in an area with a physical signal jammer in the air, but the quantity has decreased enough to make it negligible. I''m impressed that anyone even noticed. I nodded. That could have been something one of the samurai here used, maybe? I could see a few reasons to want to jam signals. "Looks like your tech guy was right," I said to One. "There''s some sort of signal jammer thing. Myalis, my AI, says it''s a physical jammer." "Understood. Switch to AP." The soldiers took turns, two by two, to pull out their magazines and replace them with another. AP? That had to be armour penetrating, but why? We continued our approach, but this time at a slow walk. The soldiers spread out a little until there was nearly a metre between each of them and they formed up into a sort of grid. I stayed in the centre. Moving so slowly was actually kind of awkward in my mech, but it was doable, still. "Approaching, one contact, friendly," One said. There was a whistle and I looked upwards in time to see a black speck in the distance grow much closer. As it did, it also grew louder until the form resolved itself into a man. A man covered in an entire fuckload of armour. He had two large turbines stuck to his back on a pair of metal wings. They shifted and twisted, blasting air out in different directions to stabilise his flight. It threw up dust and leaves until he kicked the flight system off some five metres above ground and came crashing down. His knees barely bent. "Invincible! Here to bring the pain!" he said. Invincible was wearing as much armour as one of Tankette''s tanks, but it was enveloping him in the form of a thick suit. His head was encased in a steel half-dome with slits on the front, and his arms and legs were almost as thick around as my mechs. The suit made him eight feet tall, so I imagined that the actual Invincible was probably buried deep in there. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. "Yo," I said through my external speakers. "We, uh, were trying to be discreet." I don''t know how, exactly, but with just a few subtle shifts, Invincible managed to look a little embarrassed. "Oh," he said. "Yeah," I replied. "Samurai Invincible," One said. I still didn''t know which soldier he was in the bunch and at this point it would have been humiliating to ask. "Adding you to our comms channel. We recently lost a unit in this location while they were investigating the loss of Samurai Cavalier." Invincible half-turned, then he spotted the wrecked mecha-horse thing. "I see," he said before stomping closer. I moved up, just a little more. Not so much that I broke formation, though. I hadn''t noticed because of the angle we came in at, but that horse had a rider. Most of the rider was still there. I wasn''t easily disgusted, but I still felt a little queasy at what I saw there. The lower half of some guy in plate armour was stuck in the saddle. The body left off about halfway up the waist. "Fuck," I whispered. That had to be Cavalier. Or their lower half, at least. No sign of the rest of them. Two of the soldiers moved up, one of them sweeping the area while the other knelt down next to the body. They inspected it, calmly and professionally, then raised their head up and said something that I couldn''t hear. "Understood," One replied. "No signs of modern weaponry use. They died from a bite." "A bite?" I asked. What hell could bite a person clean in half like that? Through plate armour and all? "I''m calling the choppers in closer. We might need close air support." "I''m picking something up," Invincible said. He stomped towards the building, heedless of the rest of us behind him. "I''ve got some pretty good scanning tech. There''s something warm in there." "Form up!" One snapped. The soldiers ran ahead, some of them moving to place themselves behind cars, others taking a knee at the rear. I moved up as well, skirting around Cavalier''s body as I followed Invincible forwards. I was just about to ask if Invincible was certain when the man froze up for a moment. Then his arms opened up, revealing small barrels that aimed out below his forearm. "Bug!" he shouted. I looked ahead just in time to see a set of four large eyes opening within that big ski shop. Then the front of the store exploded outwards. There was a split second, just a fraction of a fraction, shorter than a blink, where I had time to process what I was seeing. I''d once fought a Model Twenty-Three, back in Burlington. That thing had been a T-rex on steroids. Big fucking head, lots of muscle, fuckloads of mass to throw around, and it had been mean. Mean but kinda stupid. What I was looking at now was a little larger, but also a lot more sinuous. The little monkey part of my brain that got spooked with it saw anything snake-like was shitting itself. And then I made out the fact that this thing had eight legs behind it, long spidery ones that blended in almost too well with the background. I didn''t like it. I liked it even less as it rushed out of the storefront. The soldiers opened up on it, as did Invincible. The nightmare fuel monster''s neck snapped out like a striking cobra and it clamped its teeth around the man and squeezed. I heard the whine of metal bending even as Invincible screamed, barely audible over the constant roar of gunfire. I shook myself into action, leapt forwards, and swiped at the thing''s neck. Somehow, the soldiers shifted all of their aim in time to miss me while still punching rounds into the thing. My claws struck nothing but air as the massive spider-monster scuttled back into the shop and tore through the back wall. The gun fire stopped. "Reload," One ordered. "Charlie Four is down." I glanced to the side. One of the soldiers looked like his chest had been punched through by something big. He was just slumped there. When had that even happened? "What the fuck was that?" I asked to anyone who''d be willing to answer as I scanned around me. There was no sign of the fucker, just one dead and Invincible crunched up a little. That was a model Thirty-Three. It is a hunter. You are being hunted. *** Chapter Seventy-Nine - More Than the Machine Chapter Seventy-Nine - More Than the Machine "This is a world where your value as a human doesn''t contribute to your own happiness, but the wealth of others. It''s inevitable. The only thing you can do is make them as miserable as you." --Mario Russo the CEO Bomber, 2029 *** "Eyes open!" One snapped. It was the first time he sounded actually concerned. "Medic, check on Charlie Four." A soldier ran over to the dead man on the ground, but... yeah, there wasn''t much that could be done there. That dude was very dead. Then they surprised me by taking apart the upper chest section of Charlie Four''s armour. A few disconnected bits later, and the medic has Charlie Four''s head entirely removed and was placing it into a foldable bag. A cyborg? Not just a small one either, but a full-body conversion? Fuck, that was something I didn''t see often. I shook my head and refocused. The Family''s guys could be the most badass fucks I''d ever seen, but that didn''t help too much now. One of them had still gone down to that Model Thirty-Three and it didn''t look like we''d hurt it much. "Invincible, you okay?" I asked. I was practically standing on top of him. "Yeah... more or less?" he grunted as he tried to sit up, then fell back down. "Oh, fuck, I think I broke a rib. One sec... yeah, my AI says I broke two, and my clavicle, and some bones in my hand." "You''ll live?" I asked. He muttered something that I couldn''t make out, and a box thumped to the ground next to him. Then the back of his armour opened up slightly and a small four-legged drone fell out and ran over to the box. It returned with what looked like a Nano-Regenerator suite that it climbed into his armour with. "I''ll live," he confirmed. That drone wasn''t a bad idea. "Myalis, gimme... six cat drones. Cheap ones. We need to find where that thing went. And maybe... can you equip them with a little surprise? Some HE bomb or something?" Certainly. Six Cat Drones coming right up. They were delivered in three boxes with flaps on the sides. No one chose to comment on how they looked a little like a cat carrier. The sides opened and a gaggle of little cat drones darted out. They had small cylinders on their backs, covered in yellow-black warning stripes. One of the screens in my mech flicked over to a six-square view of what the drones were seeing. "One, you got visual on that thing?" I asked. "No," he replied. "We''re bringing our quadcopters down to get a better picture of the area. Our electronics aren''t picking anything up." I frowned. There was some fuzz in his speech, like he had a bad mic or something. "Myalis, is it me or is there something fucking with the comms?" You''re correct. There''s more interference than previously. I looked around, and finally noticed that there was probably more dust in the air that could easily be attributed to the alien crashing through the walls of that shop. The damned thing had spewed out dust all over, then, something that messed with electronics? That seemed possible. It could also be something to help its stealth. I''d noticed it going all chameleon on us when it pushed out the back of the store. "Can you give me a rundown of a Model Thirty-Three''s abilities?" I asked. Certainly. They''re generally considered a hunter-type Model. They have higher-than average intelligence. "For an Antithesis?" I asked. No. Just in general. "Ah." They have relatively decent stealth capabilities and can regulate their temperatures as well as turn their skin different colours and textures. Not so different from some octopi. Otherwise, the model has an average amount of strength for a Model in the third tier, with average durability, but excellent self-healing abilities. Given a few hours, a Model Thirty-Three that''s near death can essentially regrow itself. Well, damn. "We need to find this thing fa--" One of the screens to my right went dark. A split-second later I heard a loud boom and a plume of dust rose out from maybe a block away. I switched to the same channel as One and the other soldiers. "Looks like it found one of my drones," I said. My others moved in closer and came upon a street with a new crater blown out of the middle. There were a few bits of alien goop around, but no big corpse. The five remaining drones started to run around the area, searching front yards and scanning the fronts of ritzy apartment buildings. One spoke up. "Let''s move into the area. This position isn''t defensible. I''d rather keep moving." "Got it," I said. "Yeah, sure," Invincible replied. He sounded a little shaken up from it all, but I didn''t blame him. That had been a close call. If that thing had a better set of jaws or his armour wasn''t as good, then he''d be mulch right now. The soldiers formed up again. The quickest way to the next block over was just down the street, then around and up. The block was higher than where we were, with a guardrail overlooking the shops and resort in some spots. The troops moved at a slow, careful pace, guns pointing ahead, steps slow and deliberate. I could almost imagine them breathing slowly and steadily. They were pretty brave, I''d give them that. Their guns looked decent, but they''d barely scratched that big thing. I''d be about to quit unless I was given a rocket launcher if I was them. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The quadcopters flew in closer until one was hovering just a couple dozen metres above with the other two further back. I noticed motion on one of my drone cameras, then faster motion as it was picked up and thrown. "Careful!" I shouted. The cat drone was flung into the air, right at the quadcopter. It... harmlessly flew past. I was expecting a big explosion, but I supposed that bombs were generally a little safer than that. The choppers above were able to trace the area the drone had come from. Within seconds a trio of missiles were screaming across the air to ram into the side of an apartment building with an explosion that burst windows and scattered concrete. The soldiers dipped to a knee as debris flew past, then the choppers opened up with some machine guns, peppering the space where the Model Thirty-Three had been with massive figure-eights. Another drone went dead, and I realized that it wasn''t where they were shooting. But it was closer. "Left!" I shouted. I turned, scanning the area. It was one of the troopers that saw it first, a vague form in the dust that was rushing our way. He opened fire on it only to be rammed aside by a long, sinuous tail tipped in boney barbs. I ripped into it with my Gatlings, then it was right there in front of me. I stepped back, out of the way of its snapping jaws, then swiped out with my forepaws, the claws on it hissing as the mini-Void Terminus blades on them swallowed the air. The monster shifted to the side so fucking fast it was almost just an afterimage. Invincible fired his under-arm guns, then grunted as he was rammed aside to land on his ass. The troopers opened fire in earnest, but their gunfire cut off quickly. The damned thing was in the middle of our formation, and we were all in each-other''s crossfire. I hopped back and to the side, lining up my 105mm guns even as my mech''s railgun warmed up. The moment the crosshair was lined up, I fired. In that same moment, the monster leapt. A single shell caught it in the lower stomach, between two of its rear legs. The other rammed into one of the buildings down the road and blew it up. Alien giblets were tossed all over the place, but the fucker landed on its remaining five legs and then shot towards me. I gasped as its massive jaw clamped down around my Mech''s head. I winced as a dozen damage alerts rang out. My Gatlings turned, and I opened up on its face. I saw its eyes pop like overfilled water balloons, but the moment my Gatlings had passed, they started to regrow. Myalis had severely under-described its healing. I reached up with one paw, even as the Model Thirty-Three lifted my front off the ground. I buried it into its guts, and I could tell that its insides were being syphoned through the portal-tipped claws. We''d see if it could live with no insides! "Samurai Stray Cat!" One shouted. "The edge!" The edge? Then I realized what he meant as the alien gave a shove, and my world spun over. I was falling backwards, the guardrail doing fuck and all to stop me from tumbling back. But I grabbed the bastard anyway, unloaded both 105s into the sky with a spray of alien innards, then pulled it down with me. The crash shook my everything. Fortunately, it was only one floor down. Unfortunately, it was still chewing on my mech''s head. "Fucker!" I yelled as I opened up with the railgun. I couldn''t see, but I was pretty sure it now had a hole in its middle that I could crawl through. And yet it was still alive and eating me. I struggled. One Gatling was just gone, ripped off at some point. My 105s were throwing up warnings. My tail was caught. My forelimbs were scrambling against the alien''s underside... Then it bit down harder. I screamed as teeth started to poke through the walls of my cabin. Fucker was trying to eat me! My mech went on the fritz, because it wasn''t designed to be a fucking chew toy. But I knew exactly where the bastard''s head was, didn''t I? "Myalis, is the head weak? Its brain is in its head, at the very rear, near the neck joint. I unstrapped myself after moving my mech''s legs to hold on tighter. I almost stumbled out of the control seat as things shook. The walls grinded down, teeth moving in a few more millimeters. But I knew, more or less, where its brain was. My drones gave me an okay picture from the outside. It didn''t look good, but... I pulled my sword up, unsheathed it with some difficulty, then pressed the tip onto the front of my cockpit even as I shifted myself around so that I had a foot over my headrest and the other bent down before me. "Fuck you!" I roared. The cockpit filled with the hiss of the void. I pushed. The sword stabbed through armour like it wasn''t there until the hilt met the glowing inside of my cockpit. The alien froze up. There was a long, long moment where I wondered if I''d just stabbed my own mech for nothing. Then the teeth clenching slowly loosened, and I shut my sword off in a hurry as that meant nothing was holding my mech in place anymore. *** Chapter Eighty - No Country For Old Cats Chapter Eighty - No Country For Old Cats "Die young. It''s not worth it, being old." --Slogan of the Young Bloods, PMC group, 2051 *** "Myalis, is that thing dead?" I asked. Death confirmed. Points deposited. "How many?" I asked even as I allowed myself to slump back. There was some crap on my seat that dug into my back. Oh, and I could see the sunlight through the walls of my mech, which meant that shit had been way closer than I liked. You received two thousand points for the elimination of that Model Thirty-Three. That was it? Then again, a chunk of that was split with Invincible. Maybe even ToeJam, if he''d damaged it and survived. Which meant that big fucker was worth a heap of points. Probably less than what it would cost to fix my mech. There was a shushing followed by a pop over the comms. "Samurai Stray Cat?" someone asked. Young, male, still kind of gruff sounding. "Who''s this?" I asked. I hadn''t switched channels. Unless something got knocked around? "This is Two. One is injured and I''m taking command in his stead. Can you confirm that you''re well?" Two asked. Very imaginative names, this bunch. "I''m alive," I said. "And not injured. My mech''s another story. The alien''s dead, but feel free to empty a few more rounds in the fucker if it so much as twitches." "Understood. Samurai Invincible and our team is coming around to assist you." I grunted, then reached over and grabbed one of the screens that showed my drone''s visuals. From above, it looked like... well, like I''d tumbled down the side of a short cliff with a fuck-large spider-velociraptor and crashed through the roof of a store. I shifted until I was sitting back down, then I reached over and tapped into my mech''s diagnostics. There was more red than I''d ever seen before. But... well, the mech was made tough. I knew, I''d opened it up a few times and fiddled around with its insides. I had a passingly decent idea of exactly how much of a pain in the ass fixing all the errors being thrown up would be. I got my feet into place and grabbed the yoke, then I started to extricate myself from out of the alien''s body. It was larger than my mech, kinda. The thing had a relatively small central body, but it had legs that went on for days. I had to chop off a leg with my mech''s claws to get it to let go, then all I had to figure out was how to climb out of the wreckage. We''d fallen right through the roof of... was this a snow-mobile dealership? There were a few crunched up next to some ATVs. The lights in half the shop were down. There was almost enough room for my mech to stand there. Crawling down onto my belly, I made for the exit, then shoved right through the safety glass. Once my mech was out, I had it stand up tall and pulled the latch to open the cockpit. Fuck-all happened. "Yeah, figured," I muttered. The cockpit was all chewed up. Something was probably jammed into something else and now it wasn''t opening up like it should. I bent down a little, then gave the roof a few swift kicks. Something crunched and the top moved up a little. Enough that when I pulled the release again, it screeched upwards and out most of the way before getting caught on something. I cursed as I left the cockpit and sat up atop my mech. It looked like the alien had gone for the face. Honestly, that was for the best. There were lots of delicate, probably expensive sensors in there, but it was otherwise mostly for show. Then it had tried chewing on the mech''s neck, the top of it, where on an animal there would be a lot of important nerves and the start of its spine, and on my mech I had my cockpit. There were punctures in the armour large enough for me to fit my thumb into. Armour meant to take small arms fire like rain off a windshield. A few bits were crunched in, and I winced as I ran a hand over a plate that was bent almost in half. That was going to be a bitch to replace. I saw some of those Family troopers making their way over. Just a few of them though. A look upwards showed the rest of them camping out up the road. They were taking care of their injured while one of those quadcopters came down gently nearby. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. "Do you need help, ma''am?" one of the troopers asked. "Nah, I''m good," I said. I continued to climb over my mech, checking it over from above. The side-mounted guns were fine. I had a few errors thrown up, but that was probably just some damage from the fall. I''d need to check into it. I did grab one sensor mounted over the gun and gave it a shake, only for it to wobble. It was... not supposed to wobble. I groaned, then allowed myself to slide off the side of the mech to land in a crouch. I was still connected to it via my augs, so I had the mech turn on its camo, only to wince harder. Lots of scratches and dents and places where the optical coating was screwed up. By the time I was finished going around it twice and poking what was pokable, I heard Invincible thumping his way down the road. "You got scratched up too?" he asked. I glanced back and up. The dude''s armour was partially peeled back, revealing the kind of square-jawed face that would fit right in on a meme post about chads and virgins. The bloody gashes and bruised cheekbones kinda added to it. Frankly, I found it a little off-putting, but even I could admit he was traditionally handsome. "I''m alright, myself," I said. "Might have a new bruise or two, but I''ll live. My mech... eh." He nodded. "That''s gonna be a point or two to replace." I let out a sigh. "Yeah, I''m afraid that''s what it might come to." I could sit this one in the garage and tinker with it, though. Maybe build something for like, a very specific loadout? "Shit happens," Invincible said. He reached down to a plate on his chest and tapped it open, revealing a small compartment. He pulled out a small cardboard pack, bit something out of it, then tucked it away and reached for one of those old-timey hotel-style match boxes. He lit up, then grabbed his fresh cigar and gestured to my mech with it. "You gonna scrap that?" "Nah, I''ll keep it to fix," I said. "Sec, I''d love to chat but... any of you know if ToeJam is alright? And the troopers up there? Shit happened in a blur and I didn''t see if anyone was too badly hurt." One of the soldiers, whose voice I recognized as Two, spoke up. "Three minor casualties. One fatality," he said. "Well, fuck," I said. That was a lot of dead to one rampaging alien. Actually... that one alien had fucked up three samurai, played with Invincible here like he was a chew toy, and took just about everything I had to put down. I shuddered. It was hitting me, suddenly, how close I''d come to adding another notch to the number of samurai it killed. "Myalis, can I have something real incendiary?" I asked. A few moments later, the corpse was burning up. So was the back of that shop, but I figured they probably had fire insurance, and I handed out a couple of anti-fire nades to the troopers, in case shit got out of hand. It might have been a slight waste of points, but I wanted to make sure there wasn''t anything left of that piece of crap. One of the quadcopters came down further in, then shot off in a hurry in the general direction of New Montreal. "ToeJam has been evacuated," Two said. "There''s a second team coming in to gather our KIA and secure the area. The Family wishes to offer its gratitude for your assistance." "Yeah, no prob," I said. "That''s what family''s for," Invincible said with a dark chuckle. He puffed out a little more smoke, then dropped the cigar and stomped it flat. "Nice meeting you, Stray Cat. I''m gonna get back to a safe space, have my bones checked, then head out again." "Alright," I said. "Nice to meet you too. Uh, see you around." He nodded seriously. "It''s a small world." Weird guy. I glanced at my mech, then the area. It was... safeish. So sticking around wasn''t helping anything. And heading back out... well, that wasn''t gonna happen with my main weapons platform in this kind of state. "Fuck me, I''m gonna have to spend points again, aren''t I?" Hurrah. I rolled my eyes at Myalis'' sarcastic cheer, but I had the impression she wasn''t displeased about it. *** Chapter Eighty-One - Touch Me... Chapter Eighty-One - Touch Me... "And so we discover that technology is sufficiently advanced, that what we understood was but a mere fraction of the whole, and that our instincts are nothing but fumbles in the dark. What a time to live in, when there is so much to see in a world where mankind is introduced to the first true light, even if it may be of another''s making!" --Professor Le Guin, 2038 *** I ended up asking the Family if they could spare a ride back to the Big Gun. My mech was loaded onto the carrier, with a bit of difficulty, and sent off towards home. I''d given the carrier instructions to park itself out on the porch, for ease of access later. I would move the mech into the garage when I got home and could supervise it a little. Maybe it was time I bought a mechanic''s catalogue and a few jacks and... those big fork things that they used to lift cars up, but for mechs. I expected the Family to let me ride in one of their quadcopters, but instead they flew over a speedy little APC strapped on with some jet engines. It landed nearby, and I waved goodbye to the troopers still securing the area. It was back to the Big gun for me. Sitting down in the otherwise empty APC felt strange. I was drained. Maybe it was the adrenaline finally sinking, or the long ass day finally starting to weigh on me, but whatever it was, I felt like I hadn''t slept in three days. I wasn''t physically tired, just... my brain felt a little buzzed out, but not in a pleasant way. I stifled a yawn as the APC came in for a landing and I stood up and grabbed onto an overhead handle for stability. There was a moment where I got a good view of the Big Gun site from above. The wave of aliens rushing towards us looked like it had petered out to nothing, but not without leaving some signs. There was a trench of craters and burn scars a few kilometres long reaching out from the base and way out into the countryside. It was filled with small bits and pieces of aliens. The newbies had been having fun, it seemed. A few larger corpses were tossed around there too, but nothing even in the twenties. The Fury was parked nearby, so the moment the APC set down, I hopped off and started to search. I hadn''t thought about what might have happened to Gomorrah, to my friends, while I was busy with that Thirty-Three, but what if it wasn''t the only Samurai-killer out there today? My shoulders slumped a little when I found Gomorrah, mask off, sitting near the Big Gun''s command room. She was talking to Emosythe, both of them holding onto paper coffee cups. "Cat," Gomorrah said when she saw me. "You''re back late." "Huh? Oh, yeah," I said. "Did you hear what happened?" She frowned faintly, then shook her head. "No? I just returned." "You look like you''ve seen a ghost," Emoscythe said. How she knew that when I was still wearing a helmet, I had no idea. "I had a close call. Two samurai died to one alien, and a third was messed up. Got there and, uh, ran into one I''d never seen before." "Thirties or higher?" Emoscythe asked. "Fuck me, I don''t know if I could handle something higher than the thirties now," I said honestly. She shrugged. "Saturation bombardment cures many ills. What did you run into, exactly?" "A Model Thirty-Three," I said. "Weird spider-dino looking fucker. It chewed my mech up pretty good. Injured this other samurai I''d never met called Invincible." "I heard of him," Gomorrah said. "He''s Family through and through. I don''t think he''s from New Montreal. Somewhere further south. New York, maybe." I shrugged. "He got chewed a little too. But he''ll live." "Close calls happen," Emoscythe said. "It''s why we''re paid the big bucks. The little Antithesis? Any properly organized army could take care of them. It''s the bigger ones that need special attention, and why we''re always valuable and tolerated. The praise and fame and such is just good PR on top of that." "Sure," I said, because who was I to deny her. "How about you?" The last was directed to Gomorrah. "A few newer samurai needed some help. The larger flying units need special attention to be taken out, sometimes. Gear that not everyone has access to yet. In any case, it wasn''t anything too bad?" This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. "Yeah," I said with a nod. Gomorrah stared at me for a moment. "I''ve got things here handled, Cat," she said. "Go home." "Huh? Nah, I''m sure there''s still shit to take care of," I said. I still hadn''t gotten any news about Phobos, or, like, the wider situation. What if I was needed on some flank somewhere. Or another mean fuck like that Model Thirty-Three showed up? "It''s fine," Gomorrah said. "I''ve got it handled. Come back in the morning. At a reasonable hour for once, and we''ll see what needs to be done. I imagine we''re going to need a massive debrief." "And a funeral," Emoscythe said. "Heroes deserve to be put to rest in glory and with all due honour. And it''s just good optics. No one wants to die and be forgotten, even if they''re dying for a respectable cause. We''ll need a cenotaph worthy of the event." "Cenotaph?" I repeated. "An empty tomb," Emoscythe explained. "A monument for the lost. Something physical and tangible, that marks out the space where they were. There are a few dotted across the world now, honouring common people that rose up, soldiers that picked up arms, and samurai who made the final sacrifice in order to keep one more human alive." She smiled. "I always enjoyed them." "I''m sure they make for great places for a date," I said before I sighed. "Yeah, I uh, I might need a few hours of shut-eye, I think? Been running on fumes and not enough sleep and there''s been a lot to stress about." "It should be better now," Gomorrah said. "There isn''t a moon being flung our way anymore. Things should be returning to something approaching normalcy in the coming weeks." "The curse of living in interesting times, eh?" "You said it," Gomorrah replied. I patted her on the shoulder, then gestured towards my bike, still parked off in one corner. "I''ll get home then. Call me if there''s an emergency?" "I''ll do that, don''t worry," Gomorrah said. We didn''t exactly say goodbye as I trudged over to my bike and climbed on. I just sat there for a moment, not even turning it on. Do you want me to call ahead to Lucy? "Huh? No, it''s okay," I said. The question was enough to kick me into gear. I kicked the bike on, then rose up and over the Big Gun site. I did a quick turn around the space, just making sure, but most of what I saw were soldier types sitting back and resting, some of them shovelling up shell casings and others just laying back on the ground, their fatigues covered in sweat. I aimed south, towards New Montreal, and kicked the throttle down. I made good time, but it was one of those flights where I soon arrived home and I wasn''t sure if I really registered anything between A and B. Landing my bike on the top floor landing, I slid in under the awning just as the sky started to open up again with another New Montreal downpour. I didn''t know if that was a good sign or not, but I was too tired to question it as I walked in. Lucy was by the entrance. She was glaring. "What happened?" she asked. I shucked my helmet off, then tossed my coat onto a rack by the door. My guns and such I dropped nearby. One of the robotic cats showed up and picked them up in its mouth, then wandered off with them... probably for the best that someone was making sure that none of the Kittens got their hands on a rifle. "Hey," I said at last as I tried on a smile. Lucy came closer, got onto the tips of her toes, then gave me a kiss. "Hey," she said. I melted a little, but that was before I noticed that Lucy was holding onto something. It was a bottle, with one of those spray nozzle things at the top. "What''s that for?" I asked. "You almost died," she said. "I was fine," I said. Lucy raised the spray bottle, and before I could react, spritzed me in the face. "Ah! Lucy, what the fuck?" "I''m sorry, Cat, but it''s for your own good," she said. She legitimately sounded sorry too. "What''s for my own good?" I asked. "You''re point pinching too much, Cat. I won''t lose you because you''re unable to buy stuff to keep yourself safe." "I''ve bought plenty of stu--ah! Stop it!" I squeaked as she spritzed me again. "Not until you take better care of yourself, Cat! It''s for your own good!" Somehow, we ended up on the floor, then in bed, then on the floor again. *** Chapter Eighty-Two - Till I Can Get Mine Chapter Eighty-Two - Till I Can Get Mine "Generally, over the course of a samurai''s lifespan as a samurai, you''ll see them shift a lot in their purchasing patterns, though some stick to a single pattern. There are some who never have any points remaining, as they spend them as soon as they gain them. Others save them up, or try to reach a certain ceiling, then once they''re reached it, then cease all expenditure until they''re ready for the next leap upwards." --On the Spending Habit of the Samurai, Sixth Edition, 2054 *** The next day was... quiet. It wasn''t like I could afford to do nothing, but nothing is exactly what I did. I think I slept a solid ten hours, grabbing Lucy close and not letting her go, even when she complained sleepily about having to get up. I couldn''t sleep without her close, and... I didn''t want to admit it, but maybe that close call had rattled me a little. Having Lucy so close reminded me that I was alive. As long as Lucy was breathing then I''d be living too. I still woke up early, at the kind of hour that Gomorrah would have praised me for. I got up, finally letting Lucy waddle off to the washroom with some grumbled complaints that had me smiling, at least a little. Loading up on coffee as a decent replacement for breakfast, I slipped on some bunny-eared flip-flops, then made my way down to the garage. I''d ordered the cat carrier to bring my mech down there, with the help of my repair drone. My mech was waiting for me in the corner of the garage. I stared at it while gently sipping at my coffee. "Yeah, still looks fucked," I said. It is in dire need of repair. But I am rather confident that you could do it. It would take a lot of time, and a lot of effort, but you could manage. "I guess," I said. I started to circle around the mech, eyeing it from different angles and making a mental tally of what needed replacing. It was... not as bad as it could have been. The frame was intact, the legs had a few scratches, but they were superficial. The body was mostly fine. A few bent bits here and there, but nothing expensive. The head was... fucked beyond repair. One of the Gatlings was just gone, and I wouldn''t trust the side-mounted guns. So, just one big chunk to replace, which would probably require taking apart a lot of the front of the mech to manage. I''d need a sort of jack to lift the head off. Maybe I could sell it off to the Family or something? There were a few decent sensors and such tucked into the head that someone might be interested in. "Myalis, how many points am I sitting on?" I asked. Point Total: 72,417 That was... a hefty chunk of points. "How much was the mech again?" You paid twenty-thousand points for the Mark IV Mechcatular Nyanzerfaust. I had enough to buy two more mechs just like it. But that would be silly. "Okay," I said. "Well, I don''t want to lose this one, it''s been good for me, but Lucy will get out the spritz bottle if I don''t upgrade again to be safer. This baby was good against stuff up to the twenties. I think I''ll see about fixing her up and using her for that kind of thing." A reasonable choice. It also has some degree of automation. You''ve used it from afar a few times to serve as a guard. "Yeah, that''s a good point," I said with a nod. "Alright, here''s what we''re gonna do... do I have a catalogue that has garages in it?" You have a Defensive Structures Catalogue that does feature a few structures that could serve as a garage, but they''re more designed to be placed outdoors as temporary housing for vehicles. "Yeah, I''m looking for something I can shove in here," I said with a gesture to the garage''s rather bare wall. It was pure cinder block and cement, painted over with some thick off-grey paint. This floor was one lower than the offices where the prosthetics shop was set up, and one above Gomorrah''s floor. The far corner actually had some walls up, and it looked like Gomorrah had finished setting up that car lift. Otherwise, it was a lot of empty space, most of an entire floor''s worth, though a few hover cars were parked off to one side. People visiting the prosthetics shop, maybe? There wasn''t much else for people to do here. "Okay, what can I get for a couple of hundred points? I just want a nice space to park my mechs, plural, with space for tools and maybe a jack and some crawlspace underneath." Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Hmm, I can see two ways to go about this. A Indoor Garage Catalogue for two hundred points would get you what you need. A space to place your mechanized vehicles as well as your bike, with plenty of storage, tool cabinets, lighting, and even some small equipment to manoeuvre larger parts around. "But," I said leadingly. But there is another, slightly more expensive option, from a Sunwatcher catalogue. It''s called the Sunwatcher Vehicular Bay Catalogue, and it features a wide selection of tools and utilities to create a modular vehicle bay, one specifically designed for quadrupedal mechanized vehicles. Though of course there could still be room for more common vehicles. It would come in at a hefty four hundred points, but you might save on equipment costs moving forwards. This catalogue has a lot more in terms of automated machinery within it for the repair of mechanized vehicles like your own. "More Sunwatcher stuff, huh," I muttered. Well, Lucy was threatening to spritz me still, so why not? "Okay, I like that one. Let''s get it." New Purchase: Sunwatcher Vehicular Bay Catalogue Points Reduced to: 72,017 I nodded. "Right, okay, now we need to actually get something... let''s aim for something with like, three bays? One for repairs, two for just parking mechs and shit in? Maybe just take up this one outer wall, though?" Certainly. And your price range? Keeping in mind that the more you spend here, the easier time you''ll have with the installation. Given enough points, I can install the bay directly into the structure of the overall building. "And I''d want that because?" I asked. Because your home isn''t resistant to everything. This way there will at least be two sections of the building entirely resistant to most human weaponry. Well, that wasn''t a bad idea. "Let''s call it... uh... I guess it''s three bays so three K? But no, I want one of them to be decently equipped. Maybe make it... five thousand points?" Damn, it almost hurt to say that. Okay, Catherine. A three bay garage unit, coming right up! New Purchase: Sunwatcher Three Vehicle Bay with Mechanized Repair System Points Reduced to: 67,017 I always expected a big flash or something impressive when I bought something large. But instead the bays were just... there. There wasn''t even any displaced air, just the sense of something moving and suddenly the space before me was filled up and I was stepping back and away from a wall. A good chunk of the floor was now taken up by a curvy building of sorts, or section I guess, since it reached from floor to ceiling without any visible gaps. The walls were chrome, with a slight bluish tint to them, and where they turned, they did so with smooth, gentle curves. It reminded me a little of those modern building fronts corpos liked so much, only... this was done better. Organic, without really pushing it into the weird. "Nice," I said. There were three doors at the front, and unlike normal garage doors, these looked like they were designed to slide apart down the middle, each half slotting into the wall next to the entrance. The doors opened with a faint hiss and the humm of an electric motor, moving aside to reveal... Well, two of the bays were just that, bays. Large, mostly empty spaces. The floor had been replaced, and I noticed a few drains on the ground. The back wall had cabinets made of the same chrome-y metal and there was a station to one side that looked like it had an in-built pressure washer. There were hooks at the back, with a wall designed to hold dozens of tools, and a couple of long all-metal workbenches at waist-height. Honestly, it looked like it would be the kind of space where working would be fun. The repair bay was different. It reminded me a little more of something you''d see next to a Formula One pit stop. There were liftable platforms on the ground, controls on the walls, and several large servo arms hung from the ceiling, with different sorts of hands mounted to their ends. I saw what looked like grinders and welders there, some small enough that I imagined they could be used to snip a hair off someone''s head while others looked like they were designed to peel off tank armour. "Okay, yeah, that''s a good start," I said. "Now... I think I need a new mech, and I can feel this one hurting my wallet already." *** Chapter Eighty-Three - Cat of All Trades Chapter Eighty-Three - Cat of All Trades "The future of mechanized warfare is not walking mechanized vehicles. It will never be walking mechanized vehicles. Legs will never trump tracks! You fucking pissants!" --WarLightning Forums, 2028 *** I think, before you start spending points on a new mech, you should decide what you''re looking for in a new vehicle. I frowned at that. "What do you mean?" I asked. Wasn''t I just looking for a bigger, better version of my last mech? Generally speaking, most weapons can be divided into two broad categories. The specialized and the general-use. A handgun is a general-use weapon. It can use different ammunition and it''s almost always good to have on hand. A marksman''s rifle isn''t as useful in most situations, being too heavy and cumbersome to use, however, in its specific niche-use, it is far better to have than a normal handgun or even a more common sort of rifle. "Alright," I said with a slow nod. I could see where she was going with this. "And my previous mech was... what, a sniper rifle?" Somewhat. Thinking in strict binaries won''t be good for you, think of it more as a sliding scale between the two extremes. The Nyanzerfaust is a decent all-around platform with a very specialized main weapon and secondary armaments that had lots of versatility. I would say that it leaned more towards the ''Cat of all trades'' side of things. "Was that a pun?" I asked. I am the final arbitrator for what is funny. I groaned and rubbed at my face. "Sure, whatever. Just get to your point." My point is, do you expect to use the Nyanzerfaust again in the future? "Yeah," I said after thinking about it for just a second. I was a bit attached to it, and it wasn''t that fucked up. In that case, it might serve as a decent platform for general use. If you purchase another platform that can do everything the Nyanzerfaust does, but better, then you''ll never need it again. Seeing as how that might be wasteful, why not instead purchase something more specialized? That sounded... not too bad. "So a sniper mech? Maybe a melee mech? Maybe something way tankier, so that I can take on big fuckers without worrying when I get chewed on?" That would be three separate specialisations. How about all of them? "Isn''t that just generalizing again?" No. I mean why not purchase multiple mechanized platforms and a unit to transport them to the location where you want to use them? A carrier of decent size could ensure that you either have an arsenal of platforms available, or you could buy a single highly modular frame and switch out its specializations as you go. I leaned up against one of my new garage''s walls as I thought about it. A fuck-huge flying carrier that transported a half-dozen mechs like my current one, all ready to be deployed and with different sets of weapons to fuck enemies up in new and refreshing ways sounded awesome as hell. Having one mech that could switch out guns and shit on the fly... also sounded pretty awesome. "Okay... both sounds kinda cool," I admitted. I would suggest the carrier option. "Why?" I asked. The increased modularity is worth it, in the long run. The cost of the vehicle to carry mechanized units might be somewhat steep, assuming you want something armed and armoured and comfortable, but once you have such a vehicle, you can continuously upgrade your arsenal by buying new and improved mechanized vehicles. Those not in use can be stored here. It also gives you the potential to carry large amounts of materials to a site, or ever smaller combat or scout drones. I was nodding along by the time she was halfways through. "Okay, but I need to see what this carrier thing will look like. And it needs to fit in here." I gestured vaguely at the entire parking garage. If I was gonna have something like that, I''d want it to be parkable at my place. Certainly. Let''s get you some options across a range of prices. There''s a holographic projector in the mechanical bay that we can use. There was a smaller projector inserted into one of the workbenches. It looked like the kind of thing meant to display parts or schematics, but as I got closer and my Augs connected with the garage''s interface, the little projector came to life. A swirl of lights later, and there was a hovercraft on display. Seeing as how you have both a Class I Armoured Assault Vehicles, and a Class I Mechanised Warfare Platform Flight Systems catalogue, I will limit purchases to items that don''t require any new catalogue unlocks. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. "Thanks," I said as I leaned in closer. The hover...tank, thing, was a rather boxy looking car. It was thin and long, with a fat nascel at the rear for its engines and what looked like two gull-wing doors on either side. Each one looked large enough to fit my current mech into. The schematic had the doors open and close, revealing tight little bays on the interior where a pair of mechs could stand. Landing pad ''feet'' unfolded from below, and there were even little ramps that slid out from under the openings for the mechs to get in and out easier. The front was a blunt-nosed cockpit, with little more than a seat and driving controls. It... did look a little less angular on the sides, but not by too much. All in all, it reminded me of one of those hovering delivery vans, but way longer and slightly beefed up. This is a model that would only cost you four thousand points. It''s a capable vehicle, with decent speed and acceleration capabilities and room to store two mechanized units within itself. It is also perfectly street-legal. Unfortunately, it is unarmed. Not too expensive. The 3d model I was looking at was colourless, but I could imagine a big black boxy thing coming in and dropping off a few mechs. It looked a little too... normal, though. "Alright, next one up?" I asked. "I do need guns." This next one is based off of an ancient Sunwatcher gunship. The 3d render was replaced by a new model, and I perked up a bit at the sight of it. This one was much stubbier. Not as long, but way fatter. It had a sort of long, protruding cockpit in the middle, with two large angled gates next to it. That meant that the entrances for the mechs were all forward facing. The spine of the ship was actually lower than the two boxy containers for the mechs. Myalis had the model spin a little, and I took in the shape of it. From above, it was almost coin-shaped, with a protrusion for the cockpit at the front. It had small winglets, but there was no way it was aerodynamic enough to fly. "Weird looking thing," I said. It''s ancient, as I said. But the design features a roomy interior and it''s well-armoured for its size. Myalis had the diagram blow apart, showing the inside. The cockpit was actually pretty large, like a big SUVs, and there was a walkway from it to a small cargo room that had a bed and a small living space. I could access the two mech holding spaces from there. A longer, slightly more expensive version is also available for sixteen thousand. The model stretched out. This time adding two more mech holds and a much larger living space. The original version had an underbelly turret and a pair of smaller guns on top. Now this longer version doubled that until there were six hardpoints spread across the carrier. Room for four mechs was pretty nice, actually, and the living space was decent. "I think... I like bigger," I said. Fantastic! Then you''ll like this one, at least until you see the price tag. The image disappeared, and then was replaced by... "Is that a spaceship?" I asked. It is not technically capable of reaching space. The carrier was long. Twice the length of a semi-trailer, and about three times as wide, but still relatively low. It had three bay doors on each side, all of them numbered, and below that, six large mechanized legs. The damned thing was bristling with small guns sticking out of rounded pods stuck to its sides and top and bottom. Myalis had them wiggle around, showing their firing arcs, then the legs retracted back in and the bay doors opened. The thing looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie. The model opened up, showing off the interior. There was a conference room, a bathroom, two areas with tight little bunk beds, and a bridge. The entire middle section had room for six mechs next to the bay doors, and two more tucked within. This model would cost you a neat thirty-seven thousand points, but it is quite capable in combat all on its own and can carry up to six mechanized units the size of your Nyanzerfaust onto a battlefield in relative safety. The model reassembled itself, then spun. It looked intimidating... of course, the front of it had a slightly... feline look to it, but not enough to outright say that it looked like a cat. Yeah, I could work with that. "A few changes..." I started. *** Chapter Eighty-Four - Modern Goddesses Chapter Eighty-Four - Modern Goddesses "There hasn''t been a single damned creative idea in years. It''s the same thing, over and over again. Sequels of sequels, mashing ideas together that have been done to death. A creative person comes, creates something new, and then the corporate dogs rip it to shreds and parade the corpse around for all to see! I give Inside Out Seven a 6 out of 10" --NeonMovieReviews, 2039 *** "What''s this one even called?" I asked as I gestured to the mech carrier. The changes I''d asked for weren''t too extreme, I don''t think. It mostly came down to adding sofas in the little command room in its centre and an integrated mini-fridge. At least, at first. I started to have fun with it after that. The centre-most space, designed to hold two mechs, was replaced by a small mobile garage. Nothing too complex, but enough that I could maybe fix a few easy things on the move. Myalis helpfully added a docking port for a repair drone as well, which was sensible. The ship... was it a ship? I frowned. This was way too big to just be called a car, or even a truck. It had more in common with a ferry than either of those. Yeah, ship felt right. Anyway, the ship had plenty of guns strapped around it. Six twin-barreled machine guns, in ball-shaped turrets that had wide angles of fire, and a single-barrel 105mm gun on an angular, flat turret at the top. Below were two large pods that could tilt in and out of view, each one able to hold sixteen rockets or small guided missiles that could be reloaded from the interior. It had less armament than a modern main battle tank, sure, but it could also fly and was armoured up the tits. Myalis shifted the design a little, making it somewhat less boxy. The armour gained more of an angular look to it, sharp edges and all. "Okay," I said. "Lay it on me, how much would this thing cost?" Currently, with the modifications you''ve brought to it, the Catbox will cost you-- "No," I said. "We''re not calling it that." It''s an objectively good name. "It''s objectively stupid," I replied. "Come on, we need a name with a bit of... you know, oompf to it. Something cool and... stronger?" And you expect to come up with this name yourself? I will defer to your greater erudition in the matter of nomenclature and your obviously superior vocabulary with regards to names with appropriate gravitas. I rolled my eyes. "Don''t be a bitch. We just need a cooler name than Catbox. The Nyanzerfaust has a silly name, but it''s got some syllables to it, and Gomorrah has her God''s Righteous Fury which is a name that has hairs on its chest." Felis Aegis? "Lucy would like that. But it''s too cutesy," I said. I see. How about the Clawhold? Or perhaps the Iron Pride? I passed my tongue over my teeth. Yeah, that was a bit better. "Not bad, but like, for a gun or a shield or something. It doesn''t feel right for an entire... you know." I gestured to the hologram of the ship. I see. Then perhaps something with a bit more fur on its chest? How about the Bastion of Sekhmet? "Who''s that?" I asked. Myalis took over the hologram and showed some old Egyptian-looking art. Some lady in a skirt with a cat head with one hell of a headdress on. Ancient Earth mythology warrior goddess. She has a lion''s head and is one of the solar deities of Ancient Egyptian mythology. I rubbed at my chin. Was it cool to appropriate another culture''s imagery just because it was kinda badass looking? Probably not. Would it annoy Gomorrah and did it sound rather badass? Yeah, it did. "Alright, I''m done for that. The Bastion of Sekmeth." Sekhmet. "Sure," I said with a nod. "And this is gonna cost me..." Forty-two thousand points. I needed to sit down for a minute. Forty-two big ones. That was... a large chunk of what I had. Way more than half of my total points. Sure, it was for something big and there were good chances that I wouldn''t be replacing that for a long time. I chewed on my lower lip. If I was a smarter sort, I might consider a pros and cons list, but that''d never been my way of doing things. Did I want this thing? Yeah, it seemed damned useful. It would be a hell of a thing to show up to problem locations with. I''d spent a decent load of time in mobile bases recently. PMC and army ones. This would be the same, but flying, and it would be mine. Did I want it? Yeah. Stolen story; please report."Alright," I said. "But why''s it so damned expensive?" Mostly the cost comes from the technology required to ensure that it stays afloat without breaking apart under its own mass. The sheer size is also a factor in its cost. Right, I couldn''t argue that too hard, it was a big thing. "Go ahead, Myalis," I said. New Purchase: The Bastion of Sekhmet Points Reduced to: 25,017 Oh boy, seeing my points drop by that much made me feel dizzy for a second. I took a deep breath and then flinched as the air in the parking garage whumped past me. There was suddenly something huge taking up a hefty chunk of the room. A wall of flat black steel and armoured panels. I blinked dust out of my eyes, then looked up at my new toy. The Bastion of Sekhmet was larger in life than I''d expected from the hologram. It looked like it was just a few centimetres from scraping against the ceiling. Legs larger than my old mech were deployed around its base, all six of them clamped onto the floor. I hadn''t asked Myalis about colour, and the hologram had been a glowy blue as they tended to be. The Bastion was a flat, light-absorbing black, except where its armoured panels had sharp edges. There, it was covered in gleaming gold panels and backlit by a pale blue light. I started to giggle to myself as I walked around it. It took a while. There were, as I''d noted, six large doors, slightly angled, with golden numbers embossed onto them. Each was more than large enough for me to walk my old mech into. "Ah, shit," I said as I finished my circuit. My Nyanzerfust had been like, twenty-thousand points. I wasn''t sitting at much more than that now, and if I spent what I had left I''d be point-broke. ... fuck, did I just buy a mech carrier without the points to fill it with mechs? Don''t worry, Catherine, I''m certain we can buy you at least one new mech. I frowned. "Are you reading my mind again?" You''re predictable. I wanted to disagree, but she was probably right. "Let me give the inside a tour first," I mumbled. My augs connected to the Bastion automatically, which was nice. I could open up any of the gates from a rather simple interface, and there were controls for the guns, the ship itself, and all sorts of knick knacks like the lights and stuff from a simple set of menus. Opening gate six, I stepped back as an unfolding ramp came down and gently touched the ground. "So, mechs," I said as I stepped in and started to look around. The bays weren''t entirely cut off from each other, but they weren''t sharing a large space either. There were thin walls with bracing between them, and folded up robotic arms designed to cling onto any mech parked in here so it wouldn''t bounce around. I have a simple suggestions for you. Since you seem to use your Nyanzerfaust as a scout relatively frequently, why not purchase a frame more capable in that regard? A lighter, faster-moving frame, with better stealth capabilities and a more powerful suit of sensors? "And cheaper?" By a certain number of points, perhaps. Uh-huh. A stealth mech wouldn''t be too bad, and something faster might be fun. It didn''t sound as safe as what I had already though. Then again, if it was meant to serve a different purpose, then did it matter? I walked deeper into the Bastion. There was a wide corridor down the spine of the ship, large enough for a mech to walk down and over to the garage-like installation at the very rear of the vessel. Myalis, being handy like that, took over one of the projectors in that room, same as the one in my other new garage, and she tossed up an image of a mech. It was another cat-shaped frame, only this one was lithe, thin, and with the proportions of a cheetah rather than an overstuffed lion like my Nyanzerfaust. It was lower to the ground at first, but then stood up in the hologram. I eyed it over as it spun slowly. A central cockpit, behind the ''head'' of the mech, with a seat designed to be laid down onto. Two small holes on either side of the chest by the front for missiles, a tail that could elongate itself as a sort of barbed whip, claws like on my last mech. The head had a mouth that could open up to reveal a small turreted gun, and there were two more mounted on the flanks that could unfold on a pair of long, articulated arms that let them aim in every direction. They were still rather small, belt-fed machine pistols, basically. "Yeah, that''s something," I said. "But... I want enough points for another upgrade to my wetware too. To keep Lucy happy." *** SCS Contest Winner: Isabelles Little Idea - By the WackyWombat! SCS Contest Winner: Isabelle''s Little Idea - By the WackyWombat! Isabella shot a quick glance at the kitchen, before stealthily crawling across to the living room. Jane was sitting at the table, doing ''Adult Stuff'', and she wanted to know what that was. Sure, she was only six, but she was learning new stuff from Sir Froggington every day, she could be helpful. After she made it to the couch she slowly peeked over the top, just enough to see the table. "Issi¡ what are you doing?" Jane asked, without looking up. "I''m being stealthed, so I can figure out what you''re doing?" the girl replied, without moving from her position. "The term is stealthy, little one, and I''m helping Evelyn prepare a list of supplies needed for her school." Isabelle blinked, "What''s a school?" she asked, popping up and throwing her arms over the back of the couch. Jane sighed, "It''s a place where kids come to learn, like you do with your frog¡" "Sir Froggington," Isabelle corrected. "Yes, Sir Froggington. She''s planning on providing food as an incentive, and I''m just trying to decide if we can give them anything else." "She has bears, lots of bears." Isabelle replied, pointing at the garage. "She could give everyone their own bear." "It''s not that simple, pipsqueak," Jane replied, looking up with a smile. "Those are special bears, and she can''t give those away." "Boo! Why not?" Isabella asked, as she climbed over the back of the couch and jumped down into the kitchen. She pulled one of the kitchen chairs out, with a little bit of difficulty, before pulling herself up to sit. The little girl''s head barely cleared the top of the table, but she could still look Jane in the face from that position. "Bears, and foxes, and mooses, protect the people around here. I''ve seen it! Why can''t she give them to other people?" Jane smiled a little, she needed to in order to prevent herself from laughing at Issi''s serious face. "They could be dangerous in the wrong hands. That''s why Evelyn has taken so many precautions with them. If you can think of a really good way to give bears to the kids, without it being dangerous, I promise I''ll run it by Evelyn and the others. Deal?" "Deal!" Jane watched the little girl roll out of her chair, land on all fours, then take off at a full run heading towards her room. "So much like Evelyn at that age," she whispered with a small smile. After a second she turned back to the tablet, and resumed reviewing her notes. ~~ At the other end of the hallway Isabelle skidded to a halt in front of her bedroom, threw the door open, and sprinted towards the figure at the far side of the room. The three-foot-tall frog-shaped robot, with a top hat and monocle, watched her approach with interest. "What may I help you with today, Miss Isabelle?" "I need to figure out how to convince Jane and Teddy to give bears to other people!" the girl said, panting slightly. "Need to help other people!" "You mean the combat robots doing patrols around the premises?" the frog asked, with one raised eyebrow. Isabelle nodded excitedly. "I don''t think that''s possible, they''re far too dangerous!" "Boo! That''s what Jane said. If everyone had their own bear they could hug them anytime they wanted, just like I do whenever Teddy brings hers home." The frog paused, "Wait, you just want them to hug? Not for the protection part?" "Protection is good! They keep everyone safe, so I''d like it if we could do that for other kids, but just having a huggable would be good too!" The girl sat on her bed thinking for a moment, then picked up her plush frog and held it out. "Bears this big might be good too. I know Mr. Frog makes me feel safer, but bears are better." Sir Froggington''s head spasmed slightly, then the bot stepped forward, moving much smoother than before. "Am I to understand that you want to provide security stuffies to the kids around the neighborhood?" he asked. Stolen story; please report. "You''re not Sir Froggington, are you," Isabelle replied, eyes narrowed. "You''re Teddy''s imaginary friend. What happened to Sir Froggington?" Nyx laughed, "Very perceptive, I am indeed Evelyn, aka Teddy''s, AI, Nyx. Don''t worry about Sir Froggington, he''ll be back, good as new, once we''re done talking." "About bears?" "Indeed. I was slightly intrigued by your suggestion. As you know Evelyn tends to be protective of the people around here, and I have no doubt she''ll want a way to keep an eye on those kids once she opens the school." Isabelle smiled, "Teddy likes everyone!" "Indeed. Since Evelyn can''t give people one of the big bears, and as you pointed out the stuffies only give comfort, maybe we can work together?" Isabelle narrowed her eyes, "Mr¡Ms¡Mx Nyx, I''m listening." ~~ Back in the kitchen Jane was busy discussing the issue with Evelyn, who had just come in. "I still think you need to give the kids more than just food." "They''re getting aug upgrades from Leah too," Evelyn replied, between mouthfuls of nutribar. "You know what I mean. Giving them food solves the short-term problem, but can''t you give them tablets or something too?" "They''ll be stolen before they leave the district, even with my bears watching the area, you know that," Evelyn replied, sadly. "We''ll need to think of something else." "Bears!" came Isabelle''s call from down the hall. "I told you sweetie, we can''t give them¡" Jane started, before she noticed what Issi was pulling behind her. "What''s all this?" "They''re bears, I keep telling you," Isabelle replied. The girl walked right up to the table, pulling a small wagon full of plushies behind her. "Isabelle¡ where did you get all that?" Evelyn asked. "Your imaginary friend helped me. Everyone told me that ''the bears are too dangerous''," Issi replied, with air quotes. "But regular stuffies don''t help protect people, so we made these. They look just like your special bears!" She picked out two bears and handed them to the older girls. One was grey, wearing special forces armor, a perfect replica of Spooky, while the other was a little red fox in a ghillie suit, just like Bandit. "I don''t get it," Jane said, turning hers over, "they''re just stuffies." "Nu-uh, they''re stuffies with trackers and picnic buttons," the girl replied proudly. Evelyn and Jane turned to her and stared for a second. "You mean panic buttons, right?" Evelyn asked. "Yus! Panic buttons. That way the kids will be safer." "That''s great Issi, but I don''t think the older kids will¡" Jane started, but was interrupted as Isabelle thrust something else into her hands. It was a tiny green bear with Xs for eyes, a itty bitty version of Deadbeat. "Keychains too!" "Isabelle, did you think of this by yourself?" Evelyn asked, turning the bear in her hands over. "Mostly, your imaginary AI helped too!" the girl replied, proudly. That earned her another look from Evelyn, this one a little shorter. "Right. Well¡ If it provides the local kids a little extra protection¡ I like it. We might have to make them a little weathered, so they don''t attract as much attention, but I don''t know anyone that would stoop as low as stealing a teddy bear around here. There are enough troops patrolling the area that backup would only be a minute or two away. Nice job, kiddo." Isabelle puffed out her chest for a moment, but broke down into giggles as soon as Evelyn tussled her hair. "They are cute¡" Jane conceded. "And cuteness is the way," Isabelle replied, with a serious look on her face. "It''s the best way to solve all life''s problems." Jane smiled, "Not all of them, but maybe this one." Isabelle laughed, pulling a plushy that resembled Heavy, a massive polar bear in a bomb suit, out of the cart and hugging it. Adult problems weren''t that hard, she thought, not with the right point of view. A Cyber New Year A Cyber New Year Juliet pulled her bike up beside another parked right out on the deck, and when she hit the kill switch, the kickstand snapped out so she could relax for a minute, taking in the view. The house sat right on top of a skyscraper, a large, vaguely abstract cat with windows for eyes. The parking space was situated right between the ''legs'' of the cat, before the double doors leading into the home. The last glimmers of sunset painted the metal building in shades of ochre and crimson. It was beautiful, and the warm colors were at odds with the chilly air. She pulled off her helmet, shaking out her auburn hair, thankful for the synthetic tresses'' ability to maintain their style despite the punishment her helmet doled out. Setting it on her bike, she paused to look at herself in the mirrored visor. She wore a mostly-white sweater under her motorcycle jacket, glittering silvery threads interwoven with the soft fabric blend. "You think it''s too much?" Juliet picked at her sweater, brushing freshly fallen snow off of it. Angel''s reply was quick as though she''d anticipated the question, "Not at all! I think finding that sweater at Retro Luna was fate! Besides, it looks great on you." Juliet smiled, nodded, and got off her bike. "Thank you. You''re sure white is appropriate though? The jeans and the sweater aren''t too much?" "It is supposed to represent new beginnings and the purity of the new year. Like snow! It''s perfectly suitable." She lifted her seat to expose the storage compartment beneath. Her Texan sat there, ready for violence, but this wasn''t that sort of visit. She picked up the bottle beside it, straightening the gilded ribbon she''d tied around the neck. "You''re sure brandy is appropriate?" "It''s a warm, complex spirit that will go nicely after dinner." Angel paused for a moment, then added, "It''s better to show up with something than empty-handed. Besides, stop overthinking everything. You''re here for dinner with friends." "Right." Juliet shrugged out of her jacket, folded it into a ball, and stuffed it into the storage compartment. Closing it up, she grabbed the bottle and started toward the front door. She took two steps, paused, and frowned as she looked out over the deck again. "I keep getting this weird, I dunno, like, d¨¦j¨¤ vu feeling. Like we''re in a dream. You feel that?" "Have we ever shared a dream before? If you''re dreaming, I must be a part of it." Angel replied in a rather matter-of-fact tone. "Yeah¡ yeah, good point." Juliet shook her head, chuckling softly at the strangeness of it all. She was just visiting a friend; no need to overthink it. With the bottle tucked under one arm, she walked to the front door and rang the bell. *** A jingle played from the front of the house. It was a simple little tune, one fitting of the holidays. It seemed the first guest had arrived. "Wanna get that?" Lucy asked. She stood in front of the stove, one hand stirring a wooden spatula in a pot, and the other reaching out to slap the hand of an inquisitive kitten. Said kitten recoiled away from the plateful of cookies that''d just been pulled from the oven. "I got it." Cat stood up, stretched her back a bit until it popped, then took a moment to breathe it all in. The kitchen smelled fantastic. Lucy was still on her ''learning how to cook'' kick, but she''d really pushed herself tonight. There was a turkey in the oven, roasting away. Cranberry sauce sat on the stove, releasing a delicious scent. A large pot of mashed potatoes being worked over by a couple of the kittens sat off to the side. The New Year''s meal was slowly coming together. Cat herself had tried to help, but had been shoo''d away when she dropped an entire salt shaker into the cranberry sauce. Lucy hadn''t been impressed. By some miracle, she wasn''t kicked out of the kitchen outright. Shaking her head, she made her way through the house. The place still had a few decorating from the holidays yet to to be cleaned up. The kittens had put up colorful paper cutouts of trees and snowflakes here and there. The tree was even still up in the corner, which really didn''t vibe with the modern look of the rest of the house¡ but that was okay. There was always time to worry about cleaning up next year. A bit of jank was acceptable when it came to spreading holiday cheer. Cat found herself smiling crookedly as she made for the front door. A shadowy figure appeared through the glass, shifting from side to side. The first guest. "Coming!" Cat called out before she reached the door and pulled it open. She blinked, then smiled wider at the woman on the other side. "Hey! Juliet! Come on in, get out of the cold. How are you doing?" "Ah, hey there," Juliet said. The woman, dressed in white slim-fitting jeans and an almost garish but kind of incredible white and silver sweater, stepped in. She rubbed her hands together for warmth even as she scanned the room with a ''casual'' glance. Cat, of course, recognized the look. Anyone in the same field would. "Snowing still?" Cat asked, casually revealing her hands. It was the small, easy movements that mattered when establishing a peaceful setting. "Sorry. Yeah, it is." She had something tucked under her arm. Just as Cat was about to ask her about it, Juliet seemed to remember and held out a fancy bottle of liquor bedecked with a red-and-gold ribbon. "Oh! Um, thanks!" Cat took the offered bottle with a gentle smile. She watched as Juliet brushed snow off her sweater. "No coat?" "Left it with my bike." Juliet shrugged then stepped a little further into the room. "Wow, it smells really good in here." "That''s Lucy. She''s in the kitchen," Cat replied. She couldn''t hide the bit of pride in her voice. "So, how was the road? Did you come in from Jupiter this time, or was it the Moon?" "Oh, um, yeah. I was in Luna City earlier today doing some last minute, uh, shopping." She paused, lips moving very slightly for a moment before she smiled slyly at Cat. "Angel says hi, by the way." "Oh, your AI friend? Hello, Angel. If you want, you can pay with Myalis. I think she set up her own New Years-themed server for all of the AI." Cat waved her hand. "All of them? There are others?" "Just Angel and Myalis? It depends if-" Cat paused as the doorbell rang again. "Ah, more guests!" She opened the door to reveal a young woman standing there, hands pressed together with nervousness written all across her face. She looked like a cop. Her eyes, one chrome and one not, snaked around the room as she checked subconsciously for threats. "Hi?" The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "Hey! Shiro, right? Come on in, get out of the cold," Cat said as she moved aside. "Blue Crusade gear, eh?" Shiro stepped in, nodding her thanks. "Check¡ you know how it is with unreliable bosses. Ran into the Inquisitor on the way over and got dragged around. Uh- sorry I''m late." "Nothing to apologize for." Cat waved off the apology. "We haven''t even started sitting down yet." Shiro looked around, pausing at the sight of the bottle in Cat''s grasp. "Oh, uh, right. Here." The young woman pulled a small hockey puck looking device from her coat pocket. "What''s this?" Cat grabbed it. Shiro touched a button on the side of the puck. A hologram of mice popped up. The holographic mice scattered every which way, creating trails of light. "I thought the kittens might like it¡ is this okay?" "Sure is! I''ll go check on the roast. Make yourselves comfortable; take a layer off." She grinned as she walked away, pleased with herself. She was getting a good grade in host. Lucy would be proud of her. Speaking of... she padded her way across the house, checking in on the dinning room where a few of the kids were setting the tables. They had two tables, a longer, lower one for the brats and a smaller one to the side for the adults. Er- adults and Shiro. Cat moved on to the kitchen where Lucy was shifting the turkey out of the oven. "I''m back!" "Hmm?" Lucy turned back from where she was just pulling one of the pans out of the oven. Seeing a disaster about to unfold, Cat darted ahead and grabbed onto the hot pan. At moments like these, having a cybernetic hand was so nice. Immunity to small burns like this was an unexpected benefit. "I got it." *** Juliet and Shiro stared awkwardly at each other for a few moments. It wasn''t until Shiro realized she was staring that she stuck out her hand. "Hi. I''m Shiro." "Juliet." The other woman shook her hand. "So¡ how do you know Cat?" "Friend of a friend. You know how it is in our line of work." Shiro shrugged as she took off her Trench coat and hung it on a nearby rack. She was more than happy to finally get out of that. Being in the Blue Crusade''s gear was practically a prison of its own. "How about you?" Juliet''s eyes looked a bit dazed as a slight frown pulled at her lips. "Friend of a friend¡ You some kind of corpo-sec? Cat said¡ ''Blue Crusade,'' right?" "No?" Shiro immediately denied it, though she sounded unsure. "At least, I''m not supposed to be. It was supposed to be a one time gig. I just haven''t been able to get out." Juliet looked a bit confused as she slowly nodded her head. "Sure. So, where are you from?" "Aythryn City. It''s a shit hole of a place." Shiro and the other woman walked side by side towards a couch off to the side. A kitten sitting on it scooted over, giving them room. "But it''s home. You?" "Originally Tucson, but not for a long time. Haven''t really been able to set down too many roots with- uh- ''corporate interference''." The two shared an understanding look. "But I just got back from Luna City." "Luna City?" Shiro tilted her head. One of the passing kittens playfully followed her motion. "Like, on the moon? Never heard of it¡ What''s it like out there?" Juliet looked off into the distance. "It''s a city, so plenty about it''s awful. And yet? If you know where to look, it''s so, so beautiful. From a distance it''s a fairy tale. Up close, it''s dirty, like most things people make¡" She trailed off, and then grinned wryly, shaking her head. "You meant space, right? Flying? It''s amazing, Shiro¡ªthe best thing ever." Shiro closed her eyes, trying to imagine what it was like. Maybe one day she''d make it there. A day far in the future though. She had enough problems planetside. Hopefully, with the New Year coming around, she''d solve most of them and finally be free of the chains weighing on her limbs. "Must be something." "It truly is¡ back when I first started, I didn''t think I''d ever get out of the scrapyard, let alone fly around the system." Juliet shook her head. "But who wants to think about old, unpleasant times?" "Then Happy New Years. May we make more, happier memories with each passing day." Shiro smiled brightly, her face turning radiant. Juliet returned the smile, and, as Shiro watched, her irises shifted from deep gray to bright silver. "Happy New Years." *** Cat and Lucy worked for a while longer, finishing up the rest of the food as dinner rapidly approached. Judging by the hungry growls from the other room, everyone was more than ready for food. Working was a bit generous for Cat. She''d been relegated to watching from the sidelines as Lucy worked the kitchen. She glanced out the door, seeing Shiro and Juliet talking as if they were old friends. It was good they were getting along. "It''s ready," Lucy called. "Help me bring it all in?" Everyone gathered around the tables as Cat and Lucy brought all the food over. Shiro and Juliet headed over from where they chatted about work off to the side, circling around the table. Cat started things off by raising a glass. "Before we enjoy this delicious food, a toast to the New Year!" Shiro joined in as she raised her own glass. A tired smile graced her lips, which made her entire face light up like a budding flower. "To the New Year! Didn''t think I''d make it." Juliet grinned as she raised her own glass. "I get it. Definitely had a few close calls of my own." "Then may we remain safe for yet another year." Cat smiled faintly as she shot a soft look at Lucy. "I know I, for one, wouldn''t have been nearly as successful or happy without the people by my side." Juliet''s eyes went distant, and her face twitched¡ªalmost smiling, then almost frowning¡ªas she thought about her year. It was clear there were some intense memories there, but, in the end, she smiled and nodded to Cat and then Shiro. "Nor would I." Shiro nodded along. Those few people by her side were small in number, though each was deeply important. Without them, it wouldn''t be the same. "Nor I. May the New Year be as kind to us as the last." "Then to those that support us!" All three raised their glasses for one final toast. *** Chapter Eighty-Five - M.E.O.W, Thats Right! Chapter Eighty-Five - M.E.O.W, That''s Right! "There''s no such thing as cyberpsychosis. That''s an urban legend started from the prevalence of certain pieces of literature and video game media. There is, however, cyber-dysmorphia, the discomfort brought about by having a limb or body part replaced by a synthetic. Strangely enough, some people are more comfortable when their synthetic replacement has less in common with their organic parts. The separating being clearer and more obvious makes it far more comfortable to handle than if the replacement prosthetic is poorly designed to look like the part it''s meant to simulate." --Lecture by Professor Wells, 2046 *** There''s actually another option as far as mechanized units go. "Oh?" I asked. I was still looking at the smaller, lighter mecha that was apparently within my now very much reduced price range. "What''s that?" Since you want to prioritize protection, what about a heavier, more armoured frame? It wouldn''t have the stealth capabilities of your previous machines, but it would make up for that by being significantly harder to damage. "Throw it up on the projector," I said with a gesture to the spinning image of the fast scout mech. It flicked away, and was replaced by a whole new cat-shaped mech. This one looked... fat? Like an overfed house cat. It was one chonky boy, with relatively short legs. The legs looked like they were mounted on pistons thicker than my thighs that could shift the entire thing upwards. This motherfucker was armoured though. Big plates of curved armour, looking like something off of a world war two tank. The fuck-off large gun on its back reinforced that image some. It was mounted in the centre-rear of the mech, in a large, boulbous turret. "How big is that gun?" I asked. 155 milimetres. I nodded, then looked over the rest of the cat. The ''paws'' were massive things, with fat wheels beneath them, those sorts of not-quite-ball wheels that some robots used, only they looked reinforced. They''d have to be to support all that weight on them. This unit, the Mechanized Exploration and Operations Walker Mk IV is designed to endure maximal amounts of damage, both kinetic and explosive, as well as from acidic attacks. The cockpit has a self-regulating environment, capable of being closed off from the outside world for years at a time. "Damn," I said. "What about other guns? I mean, that big one''s... big, but I wouldn''t wanna use that on a model one. Bit of overkill, you know?" Of course. The model shifted, and some of the armoured panels slid open to reveal spaces where gimbal-arms could move out of the mech. Two at the front, two at the rear. They held small machine-pistol looking things. Again with the low-calibre guns, but... yeah, they''d work against anything below the twenties. Another pair of sections at the front moved back, revealing two holes by the front ''shoulders'' of the mech, on either side of its head. These are a pair of 75 millimetre cannons. Small, but respectable. Their traversal is extremely limited, however. The mech has a self-detonating ERA system. Explosives that you can detonate the moment an enemy nears without damaging the mech itself. Holy shit... that was kinda rad. I worked my jaw, then narrowed my eyes. "Wait, what was its name again?" The Mechanized Exploration and Operations Walker. "The... M.E.O.W?" I asked. "Myalis, what''s the other mech''s name?" The Cybernetic High-Efficiency Exploration and Tactical Assault Hybrid I sighed. "Yeah, of course. How much do they cost?" The M.E.O.W. Mk4 comes in at a respectable seventeen thousand. The CHEETAH at a slightly lower sixteen thousand five hundred. I worked my jaw as I thought about it. Myalis had the hologram split to show off both mechs at once, including their price tags. The difference was... not much, honestly. I made more than that in an hour. A good day of work would give me more total points than either mech cost, and viewed that way, it wasn''t a terrible deal either way. But I didn''t have the points for both, even if I was rather tempted to get both. My brand new Bastion deserved to be filled with lethal amounts of mechanized war mechs. I had ideas for others too, but imagined that it would be better to hold off for a bit. "Damn," I muttered. Having a difficult time? How about we focus on something else for a moment? You mentioned a passing interest in self-modifications? "Huh? Oh, yeah." I looked around, then found a convenient seat to one side of the garage on top of a workbench pressed up against one wall. "So, I''ve done the skin thing, my hair, which is more cosmetic I guess, and I''ve got some organ shit. That leaves, uh, muscles and bone, I guess? Like, if I want a baseline improvement across everything?" If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. That''s a sensible way of looking at it. Yes, I think I would suggest a change to either if you wish to continue improving yourself physically. Did you have any preference? "Muscles would be nice," I said as I flexed my one bicep. "But... eh, I don''t need to be much stronger, and I want to survive better. Not so much be faster or stronger or whatever. So... bone? How would that even work?" There are plenty of methods to replace your skeleton. I believe most of these methods fit on a sliding scale of intrusive to unintrusive, depending on how brave you''re feeling about full-body transplants. "Right," I said, stretching the word out. "That''s way too far. Got like... really good vitamins? Space milk for stronger bones?" I think I can offer something better than some calcium. How about bone sheathing? "What?" I asked. A bone sheath is a covering placed over your natural bones, usually made of a material that''s tougher than the bone itself. It''s essentially bone armouring. Good sheathing can extend between bones as well, filling in the gaps of your ribs, for example, and creating a more solid connection where you have ligaments. I nodded along. "That makes some sense. How much tougher are we talking here?" Not that much, I''m afraid. Common human bone sheaths use titanium alloys as a base, but I''d suggest a graphene-magnesium alloy. Quite light, relatively durable. Harder and stronger than your current bones, though don''t expect your bones to suddenly be unbreakable. Right, I imagined that unbreakable would either mean thick and heavy as shit, or something very alien in nature. "And installing this?" A simple procedure! A spool is inserted through your skin at the base of your spine and a small army of nanomachines carry strips of the alloy out through your body and weld them together over your bones over the course of two to three days. That would be the least intrusive option. "Huh," I said. "And I won''t feel it?" I asked. You''ll weigh about four kilos more. "I thought this shit would be lightweight?" I asked. Catherine, lightweight isn''t weightless. "How much?" I asked. I was ready to flinch at the answer already. Seven hundred and fifty-six points. That was... not that bad, actually. "Cheap," I said. That''s assuming you don''t mind taking something that will require some time to install itself. It''s nowhere near the cutting edge of what you could have, but I believe that it''s your best current option before moving into the full-body-replacement territory, in which case saving a few points may well be worth it. Yeah, that made sense. "Okay... yeah, let''s do it." New Purchase: Graphene-magnesium bone sheathing Points Reduced to: 24,561 New Purchase: Nano-regenerative surgical suite Points Reduced to: 24,261 A decently large box appeared before me, about as big around as a basketball, though it was a little flatter. I opened it, and discovered a sort of plastic... bin thing, with a large strap running around it. "Is this... a fucked up fanny pack?" I asked as I lifted it. The plastic shell was hard-ish, with some squishy padding on the interior. Place it around your lower waist, beneath your clothes. I''ll alert you once it''s ready to be disposed of. I frowned, but did as she said, tugging up my shirt to expose my stomach and back, then biting the hem to hold it in place while I fit the pack on. The belt was wide but just large enough that I could buckle it on the front. "Feels weird," I said. It wasn''t that heavy, but it was certainly obvious that it was there. You''ll only need to wear this for a few days. It''s hygienic enough, and you can shower with it on. Tense up for a moment. "Huh?" I asked, then I tensed up as several pin-like things poked me in the back. "Ouch, fuck!" I snapped. There, incisions complete! Congratulations on your ongoing bone improvement procedure! "Thanks," I said flatly. Have you come to a decision with regards to the mechs? "Hmm... not yet. Lemme ask Lucy what she thinks. Plus she''s gonna wanna have a look at the Bastion too. It''s kind of a big thing, right?" Lucy would help, because she was the best, even if she didn''t know jack or shit about this kind of thing. She''d probably pick the one that she felt was cutest, or the one that would keep me safer. Eh, either way was fine by me. *** Chapter Forty - Oncoming Chapter Forty - Oncoming ¡°The battle is only lost when there are no more humans left to save. That is when we can finally allow ourselves to despair. They might come in their thousands or millions, but as long as we are here to meet them, then there is hope. Today, there is no hope. Despair for all these aliens. Hell. And may none of them escape satisfied!¡± -Major General Dimitri Strugatsky, moments before detonating a fail-safe nuclear device near the city of Mogocha, 2050 *** I hated it when I had to make hard choices without the time to think them through, or any ways to weasel my way out of the problem in the first place. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving until we warn the idiots upstairs,¡± I said. Gomorrah paused and half-turned to face me. ¡°What?¡± "Look, we¡¯ve barely dented this hive. The least we can do is warn the people living here that the hive is still active and that we¡¯re leaving. They think that they¡¯re relatively safe, you know?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll take more time than we have,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Laserjack¡¯s request sounded urgent.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± I decided. I wasn¡¯t going to run off and leave these people without at least a warning. I stared at Gomorrah, and her emotionless mask stared back. ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re losing more time arguing. I¡¯m going to park the Fury out front. Once we¡¯re out of this damnable basement you can warn them all you want.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± I said. We walked our way back out of the basement, retracing our steps as we went. Neither of us seemed patient enough to walk with the same care as we used to enter the basement, so we made good time on our way out. This time I took the lead, sloshing through the water with frustrated energy. The faster we made it out, the faster we could warn folks, and the less Gomorrah would be irate. And we¡¯d get back to the city faster too. Once back in the dryer section of the basement I jogged over to the door and pushed it open. I wasn¡¯t expecting to find Charles and Paul and a few others all grouped up in the factory¡¯s main living space, but there they were. One of them was even lounging on the couch. ¡°Hey!¡± I said. They jumped. Not hearing my footfalls I could forgive, but the big iron door? That thing squealed when it opened. Charles jogged over, and it seemed that he was something of a spokesman. ¡°We voted again,¡± he said. ¡°So, you¡¯re getting ready to pack up?¡± I asked. ¡°That''s good, because I¡¯ve got bad news and worse news, and you don¡¯t get to pick the order.¡± ¡°No, actually. We¡¯re going to stay. Enough of us want to stay that... we can¡¯t justify abandoning them. In either case, the vote was clear.¡± I shook my head. ¡°Well, fuck.¡± ¡°The news?¡± he asked. ¡°Bad news, the hive¡¯s still down there. We didn¡¯t kill it. Didn¡¯t even reach it, really. Burned out a few aliens in your basement, but my bet is that there¡¯s a lot more where they came from.¡± Charles winced. ¡°And the worse news?¡± he asked. It didn¡¯t feel like he wanted to ask at all. ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± I said. ¡°Gomorrah and I. New Montreal¡¯s about to get hit, the walls aren¡¯t done, and no one¡¯s ready to take the brunt of it. So we need to go do our thing. You¡¯ll be all alone for a bit. I¡¯ll make sure the ping¡¯s still up, so maybe someone else will pop around. Or maybe Gomorrah and I can swing by once things calm down, but... yeah, I don¡¯t know when that¡¯ll be.¡± Charles nodded along. ¡°It¡¯s fine. We¡¯ll manage.¡± I looked at him, with his old rig over a sweater, then at the others. A couple of them had bulletproof vests. Ill-fitting things that looked like they were police surplus from three decades ago. Their guns weren¡¯t much better. ¡°Right,¡± I said. I heard Gomorrah stepping out of the basement. She didn¡¯t waste any time here and headed outside to get the Fury. ¡°I¡¯m going to leave you some things. Otherwise you¡¯ll all be dead in no time.¡± I moved over to the side, to an open space on the floor. ¡°Myalis? What do we need to keep these idiots safe?¡± Ideally, to relocate them. The factory isn¡¯t a defensible location. Too many windows that are accessible to the average Antithesis model, and the area isn¡¯t well hidden. But, if they cannot or will not leave, then automated turrets, some basic guns, and a few thrown explosives could give the locals a fighting chance. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. I nodded. I didn¡¯t have much time for shopping though. ¡°Get me five of those turrets, the laser ones with the solar panels. No, make it eight.¡± They¡¯d be able to place them around the factory, and create a kill-zone. ¡°And... Hummingbirds. Those little flechette guns that auto-target aliens. I don¡¯t trust these guys with proper guns. Get me some resonators too. I don¡¯t know... a dozen? No, make it two. If they¡¯re smart they can create chokepoints and fuck the aliens up when they slip into them.¡± Understood. For one additional point, I can provide a technical manual. A simple one. ¡°That¡¯s not a terrible idea,¡± I said. I have been known to have non-terrible ideas on occasion. Myalis got me everything I asked for in a set of big plastic boxes. They appeared with satisfying thunks onto the floor. ¡°Charles!¡± I called out while opening one of them. I found the manual. Its first dozen pages had simple instructions, tailored for the factory, even, with blueprints and firing lines. ¡°Hey, take this. I¡¯m leaving that cat drone here too, it can take one or two of them out. Just... hold tight, okay? I¡¯ll check in on you tomorrow, promise.¡± Charles took the manual, then looked at the pile of gear. ¡°This is too much,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s not a tenth of the points I¡¯d spend taking out a hive,¡± I said. That might have been a lie. I¡¯d stopped paying attention to my points a while ago. ¡°It¡¯s worth it to keep most of you alive. Start a guard rotation, set up chokepoints, and take the aliens seriously, for the love of god.¡± ¡°Right,¡± he said. I patted him on the shoulder, then ran off. I didn¡¯t have time for drawn-out goodbyes. If they lived or died would be very much up to them now. Gomorrah was waiting for me in her car. It was idling a foot off the ground, growling and eager to move. I jumped in, then let out a long breath. ¡°You alright?¡± she asked. ¡°Stressed, I think,¡± I admitted. ¡°What does stress feel like, anyway?¡± ¡°I think it varies from person to person,¡± she said. ¡°I just feel nervous, I suppose. Franny complains about a pain in her chest, though she¡¯s not stressed often.¡± I hummed, then put it out of my mind for now. If it got bad, I could get something for it. ¡°What are you buying?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Gear,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve been out all day. You must have a few points to spend. If we¡¯re going to be facing off against a large horde, then now¡¯s the time to start looking into whatever gear you need.¡± ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± I said. That made sense. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I need though. My current set-up is working just fine, you know?¡± ¡°Then get better prosthetics, better augs, and better armour,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°They¡¯ll pay themselves off quickly enough.¡± I shrugged. It wasn¡¯t a terrible idea. ¡°What are you getting?¡± ¡°A jetpack.¡± I blinked. ¡°You¡¯re getting a jetpack?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes. They let you fly.¡± ¡°I know what a jetpack does. That¡¯s... okay, that¡¯s kind of awesome, honestly.¡± I imagined myself with a jetpack. I then imagined myself with a jetpack giving Lucy a princess carry. Yeah, I was getting one of those. Maybe not right now though. I didn¡¯t see how it would be helpful with the current wave. Gomorrah really put the pedal down, accelerating us until the pressure was uncomfortable, even with the comfortable seats the Fury had. We¡¯d be on top of the city in a few minutes. Already, I could see smoke on the horizon, pooling under the overcast sky. A lot of stuff was burning. Out of curiosity, I checked the Family¡¯s map, then just stared at it for a while. When had it turned so red? There were huge blurs of red across the countryside, and anything that wasn¡¯t red was yellow fading into orange. We had a few hours until the sun set. When it rose, would everything be crimson? I sent a text to Lucy, just to be able to interact with her a little. She replied immediately, and so for a moment I ignored the world and all the shit about to go down and focused on trying to make my girl laugh by being an idiot. It was better than thinking. *** Chapter Forty-One - Rapid Return Chapter Forty-One - Rapid Return ¡°We¡¯re not so different from the Antithesis, in some ways. Back either of us into a corner, and that¡¯s where you¡¯ll see us fighting the hardest.¡± --Nomad, 2056 *** Gomorrah flew the Fury over the gap. I didn¡¯t know what else to call the long stretch of space where the wall just stopped. Cranes were set up on either edge, and there were huge cement slabs ready to be pulled up onto the foundation that was even now being poured, but there was no missing the fact that a three-kilometre stretch of the city was entirely unprotected. It wasn¡¯t an empty spot either. Suburbs were set up on what was going to be the outside of the wall. A satellite city sat on the southernmost part of the gap. It looked like the wall was going to bulge out a little to accommodate it. ¡°Atyacus, did Laserjack give us a spot where we¡¯d be needed?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°The Family has suggested some locations which require reinforcements,¡± a smooth, rather posh-sounding voice said. ¡°The entire stretch of space without a wall needs to be defended. Anywhere along or around that area could use Vanguard-tier reinforcements.¡± I glanced out the window and noticed that several armoured vehicles were forming a barricade just outside the area where the wall would be. More vehicles were moving into the space behind the wall. Mobile bases, semi-trailers with mobile offices on their backs, and a whole heap of supply vehicles. ¡°Looks like every other PMC in the city is coming over,¡± I said. ¡°This location is the most likely to lead to the Antithesis breaching the city,¡± Atyacus said. I nodded. ¡°Makes sense. Get everyone over the spot that¡¯s weakest. The plants will definitely be pushing that spot hardest. Least resistance, and all that.¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± the AI said. ¡°I''m going to station myself a bit out in the open,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Isn¡¯t your range pretty short?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes, but I expect that there will be enough of them that it won¡¯t matter,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Besides, I do best when I have a lot of space with no one friendly inside it.¡± I considered that for a moment. Not so much Gomorrah¡¯s fighting style as my own. How did I fit into all of this? ¡°Can you drop me out at the far end of that city?¡± I asked, pointing to the suburban sprawl. Lots of apartment buildings, and a few dozen condo-enclaves. ¡°My gimmick¡¯s not going to be useful in the open, not if there¡¯s going to be thousands of the fuckers. I¡¯m going to head in towards the walls, leave a few hundred traps behind.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have a lot of time for traps,¡± Gomorrah said. I shrugged. ¡°I can run pretty fast. Maybe I¡¯ll get a jetpack of my own?¡± Gomorrah chuckled. ¡°Go ahead. I won¡¯t need to taxi you around quite as much.¡± I grinned as we swung around. A glance at the map wiped that smile away, at least a little. The wave was way too close for comfort. I could see plumes of dust in the distance, getting closer. ¡°Go,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°And remember to stay alive.¡± I nodded, then reached out a fist to her. She bumped it. My boots hit the ground with the softest of thumps, and the Fury whined as it rose out above and shot out across the city. Gomorrah had left me on a once-busy street. Ten-story buildings on either side, their first floors nothing but colourful shopfronts with screaming-bright advertisements. ¡°Not much time,¡± I muttered. ¡°Myalis, you ready to buy some shit.¡± Catherine, you should know that I am always prepared. What are you thinking of? ¡°I need... fuck it, I need a better suit. More mobility, better guns. Stealth too. And I want to be able to fly.¡± Do you mind sacrificing your back-mounted guns for flight? I winced. Understood. Your current armour is modular. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised that you forgot that. Let me suggest a cheaper alternative to a whole new set. Boots with deployable jump-jets, a jet-pack that will fit in the centre of your back and over your lower back. You will have to remove your coat unless you wish to find a different solution? Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°No, no that sounds good,¡± I said. I was already shucking the coat. It was cool, and I¡¯d be sad to see it go, but... yeah. Needs must and all that. New Purchase: The Leaping Lion¡¯s Paw Points Reduced from... 20,764 to... 20,514! New boots appeared before me at the same time as mine hissed and basically fell off, the armour panels clunking aside until my feet were covered in nothing but a skeletal frame and some sort of padding. The new boots were in a box, with little clamps holding all the parts separate. I put my foot in, and as soon as it was on the sole, all the parts pressed in and fit together like a demented engineer¡¯s idea of a jigsaw puzzle. I did the same for my other foot, then noticed the third item in the box. A sort of rounded scoop thing which trailed down to a point with nozzles on the bottom. It was obviously designed to affix to my back. I grabbed it and felt things shift behind me. Press the wider part to the small of your back. As I did just that, the arms for my railguns deployed and helped the upper section of the jetpack together. I shifted my shoulders, feeling a slight difference in weight. The boots were definitely a bit lighter, despite being bulkier. Ideally, the entire suit would be lightened to make flight more efficient, but such is the sacrifice of a modular system. ¡°Right,¡± I said as I shouldered my Bullcat. ¡°I need... shit, what else do I need... I wish I could send all of this back home. A small mechanised cat-drone could carry your coat and older boots back to your house. That wasn¡¯t a terrible idea. ¡°Okay, yeah, do that.¡± New Purchase: Stylized Servitor - CAT Mech Points Reduced from... 20,514 to... 20,364! A box appeared, and then immediately opened up as a cat mech jumped out of it. It was smaller than the mechs I had for fighting, with a whole set of thin mechanical arms sticking out of its back. It used those to quickly pick up my boots, then it folded my coat with its forepaws and grabbed it in its jaws. The cat looked up at me with glowing cat eyes before slinking away. ¡°Right, what else,¡± I muttered. Catherine, the wave is incoming. You have under one minute before the forward-most section is upon you. I swore, then looked up at the nearest building. ¡°How much fuel does the pack have?¡± Each container should last you long enough for half a minute of flight. They can be replaced automatically, same as the ammunition in your current gun. The tanks cost ten points each. That would probably add up. ¡°Okay... uh, how do I fly?¡± I think it would be safest if I flew for now. Keep your legs together, please. I tensed up a half-second before I took off into the air. The worst part was the lack of sound. Except for my screaming, of course, but that didn¡¯t escape my helmet. At least, I hoped it didn¡¯t. Myalis landed me on the edge of a flat rooftop, and I paused there for a moment while my heart considered whether or not it would leap out of my chest. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. That was all I could think to say. A rumble to my right had me looking that way. The dust cloud was getting closer, much closer. My augs drew a square at the base of the cloud and a small screen opened up with a zoomed-in view of that square. Model threes. Packed in so tight they were bouncing off each other¡¯s shoulders. More behind them, and through the faint dust, I could make out bigger models. There had to be thousands. How were they kicking up dust when it had to have rained in the last day or so? ¡°Fuck me,¡± I muttered. Any path in particular you wish to take? That many would be hard to kill. Impossible, even. Not by me alone, at least. Unless... ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m going to need a few cat mechas, and... some sort of bomb that will create a barrier. I want walls to cut off their path. Funnel them in a little. Maybe those expanding foam things? With resonators? We¡¯ll push the entire swarm into a few corridors, then we¡¯ll fuck them up from above.¡± All I had at my disposal was an infinite armoury of exotic explosives and the high ground. It would have to do. *** Chapter Forty-Two - Earning the Tier Chapter Forty-Two - Earning the Tier ¡°At lower tiers, the effectiveness of a single samurai on the field is actually questionable. That might lead some to wonder; if a samurai is little better than a small battalion of trained troops, then why not replace them with just that? The answer is that while a low-tier samurai might only be that powerful, they won¡¯t be low-tiered forever.¡± --A discussion on the value of samurai on large scale battlefronts, 2028 *** I was just planning my route, a map open in the corner of my vision, when some clever asshole decided that a large mass of bunched-together aliens would make for a great target for some artillery. Something screamed above, and I raised my head and tracked a tiny black speck through the air. Its parabolic arc ended with it smashing into the ground a good fifty metres ahead of the wave. A loud boom echoed out, while dust and smoke rose out of the impact crater as a massive column. ¡°Nice,¡± I muttered. ¡°Myalis, can you get in touch with whomever fired that? Tell them they missed.¡± On it. The wave was undaunted by the blast. I think most human armies would start running faster to get to cover or something, but the sea of bugs charging towards the city didn¡¯t change their breakneck pace at all. I looked at my map again. There were lots of streets to cover. ¡°Okay. We¡¯re going to push them down... Mapleway. I need... these six bigger roads blocked off, and all the alleys along them before the blockage.¡± The city was laid out as a grid, with some concessions made for the underlying terrain. This wasn¡¯t New Montreal, built on a massive platform raised above the ground, but a more normal cityscape like they used to build before. I couldn¡¯t funnel the entire wave. There were too many of them. But maybe I could funnel in a fraction, a good chunk of those heading in towards the city. It would concentrate them, sure, and that would be fucking awful if they ever reached the defenders covering the gap, but I didn¡¯t intend to let that happen. Funnel them into a big group, then bomb them back to whatever hell they¡¯d crawled out of. ¡°I need mecha,¡± I said. ¡°Six... no, eight. See these roads. I want them blocked off. Foam, maybe pepper in some resonators for if they try to climb over.¡± I quickly drew some lines across the map. In the end, my design looked a bit like a square-stepped pyramid, with the tip pointing towards New Montreal itself. Every blocked road would be next to an alleyway or a side street that would let the wave move closer inwards. If we blocked off enough alleys and the previous side-roads, then they¡¯d have no choice but to be pulled in. At least, if they didn¡¯t stop to sniff around. Fuck, I was treating the entire wave as if it were made of water or something, not living things. ¡°What are the chances this works?¡± I asked Myalis. Relatively high actually. Otherwise I would have cautioned you against it. Though it will act more to crowd the wave in than to kill the members of the wave. Right, that made sense. ¡°Other plans?¡± Use the height afforded you by the rooftops to drop proximity charges and other explosives onto the largest mass of aliens. A little dull, but no less effective. In fact, you might want to consider doing that all the same. The numbers in the current wave would overwhelm more barricades, and some will instead find themselves breaking into the buildings around them. I glanced down at the street. Most of the bigger buildings had shops on their first floors, and most shops had a lot of glass in front of them. Big display windows and shit. I didn¡¯t doubt that a few were designed to be bulletproof, but that wouldn¡¯t stop the aliens for long. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get to it. Mecha with ¡®nades. Whatever you think is best for creating a barrier. Maybe a few guns on them to keep them safe. And can you ping me the location of any particularly big motherfuckers? We don¡¯t want anything in the twenties to reach the gap. Understood. Eight cat-mecha appeared on the rooftop. A bit slimmer than those I had guarding the house. Longer legs, with a few little limbs tucked into their sides, and what looked like a laser array similar to my turrets on their backs. ¡°Nice,¡± I said. ¡°Payloads?¡± As you suggested. Expanding foam bombs, resonators. You will likely want something with more direct stopping power to remove bigger threats and thin out the bigger knots of opposition. If your intent is to crush the enemy, then perhaps a literal application of that? Gravity grenades, with a limited range to avoid collateral damage, can destroy most things they hit. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. I shrugged. ¡°Alright.¡± I¡¯d see if they were as impressive as Myalis claimed. Budget? ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, as long as we come out on top pointwise, and I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll be a problem.¡± Another shell screamed across the sky above. This one exploded right above the forward edge of the wave. Then another exploded, then another. There was a constant booming from the city, like heavy rain on tin as a whole army¡¯s worth of artillery opened up. Looked like they wanted to thin the herd before it reached the more urban parts. Boxes appeared next to the cat mechas, and the robotic cats opened them up to reveal a selection of grenades in neat rows, held in place by plastic moulding. The cat mecha picked up the grenades in a long strip, then clamped them onto their sides with the little arms sticking out of their backs. Everything folded neatly back in, and I was left with a pride of Rambo-looking mechanized cats. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± The cats darted off in two directions, to the left and right of the oncoming wave. I wasn¡¯t going to sit back and let them do all the work though. While artillery rained down on the aliens I ran towards New Montreal. I stopped by the first alley I had to clog up. ¡°Sticky,¡± I said. Myalis obliged, and I caught a grenade out of the air as it appeared next to me. The pin flew off to one side, and the bomb dropped down into the unlit alley. It clanged against the ground, before bursting. In the space of a couple of seconds off-white foam was pouring out of the passage, more of it was expanding upwards to create a wall that I hoped would slow the aliens down. But in case it wasn¡¯t enough... ¡°Resonator.¡± That one dropped down into the foam with a dull splat. It managed to stay afloat as the foam expanded, a tiny screaming present for the first fucks to try and claw their way over the wall. I jumped over the alley, legs bunching up so that I¡¯d clear the gap. Kinda forgot I had a jetpack for a moment. ¡°Next one,¡± I said. The artillery fire started to grow less coordinated and precise. I could tell that some shots were flying much further out, and I winced as a shell crashed into a building that immediately exploded, fire and cement siding flying everywhere. At least some of the shrapnel would probably brain a few of the xenos. A glance over my shoulder revealed that the wave was hitting the city proper. They slipped around abandoned cars and over guard-rails. It was hard to tell the individual models apart, they were jammed so close together. Then I noticed something in the dust behind them. Wings, beating fast. A swarm of flying models swooped out of the dust. Little models, no bigger than pigeons, but also huge fuckers with wingspans like private jets. ¡°Ah, fuck,¡± I muttered as I whipped my gun around. I didn¡¯t fire. There was still a ways between them and me, and the chances that I¡¯d do more than take out a few of the smaller ones with some stray pellets wasn¡¯t great. The wave hadn¡¯t even hit my barriers and already my plan had gone to shit. ¡°We need AA,¡± I said. Something screamed through the air. Not a shell, something bigger and faster, accompanied by a loud buzz. A glance above and I found a squadron of prop-planes shooting forwards. The guns fixed under their wings opened fire with a mechanical humm and lines of bright-green tracers flitted through the air and into the swarm. Maybe I didn¡¯t need AA just yet. Large hovering vehicles were rising above the gap, with guns afixed to their sides. They started firing, and the air exploded with black-grey bursts of shrapnel around ahead of the flying aliens. I turned and continued running across the rooftops. This wasn¡¯t a one-person effort, I realized. There was an entire army here. For a moment, I wondered what I could do alone. But then, maybe my job was just going to be picking up the slack. I flung another pair of grenades down a maintenance passage between two buildings and then kept moving. Soon the swarm would be on me, then I¡¯d have other shit to worry about than how useful I could be. *** Chapter Forty-Three - Danger Close Chapter Forty-Three - Danger Close ¡°All locations in proximity to a samurai in action are to be considered danger close.¡± --US Armed Forces NCO Basics manual, 2027 *** When I thought the swarm would be on me ¡®soon¡¯ I meant in a few minutes. I severely underestimated the speed that a few thousand aliens could pick up when they were hungry for human. The tip of the swarm poured down the streets below me. Teeth glistened, eyes narrowed, and they started their mad search for threats. No growling, or mad howls though. The creeps were as silent as ever. So I decided to make up for their silence all on my own. ¡°Thanks,¡± I muttered as I caught a grenade out of the air. I tugged the pin off, then underhanded it down the street. Dropping to one knee, I watched the explosive disappear in the swarm. Then it detonated. A loud whomp filled the air while a circle a couple of metres wide appeared in the swarm. Every alien in the circle was flattened to the ground, as if they¡¯d just been stuffed into the world¡¯s biggest hydraulic press. Body parts flipped along the edges of the effect, entirely detached from the rest of their bodies. ¡°Not bad,¡± I muttered. The hole filled itself up a half-second later. There were just too many of the bastards for it to make a difference. ¡°Not bad, but not enough,¡± I said. I glanced around the city. Lots of apartments, plenty of shopfronts. All fucked now. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re giving up on the no-collateral thing. We can rebuild, but only if every last one of these fucks is dead. Myalis, I need something that¡¯ll wipe the street.¡± There are hundreds of options. ¡°Not fire,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t want to step on Gomorrah¡¯s toes. How about... hey, do you think we could melt them all?¡± An acid? There are grenades that can spread acids around them. There are even some that will hover over the ground and mist the air with highly corrosive chemicals, some of which are tailored to melting Antithesis flesh. That wasn¡¯t what I had in mind, but it sounded really cool. ¡°Yeah, I like that idea. Gimme something to drop, I want to see how it works.¡± Myalis summoned a box next to me. It had a container with a sloshing liquid within, and three little propellers on stalks around it. It looked a bit like a cheap toy drone. Toss it ahead of you after pressing the activation button. It will move to hover over the street. It has cameras with which to find the best location. I pressed start, then tossed it out ahead of me. The drone flipped twice, then fired up with a high-pitched hum. It bobbed in the air for a second before a nozzle opened beneath it and it started to spray a mist of glowing green liquid. ¡°Is the acid glowing?¡± I asked. Yes. Humans are more cautious around dangerous chemicals when they glow. The mist hit the monsters below, and I could see fur falling off in great tufts and skin blackening and peeling off. A few of them got some in their eyes and they went rabid shaking their heads. That worked. I stood up, checked the sky for trouble, then started running again. Every time I jumped to another rooftop I¡¯d drop another grenade down to block the alleyway, at least those I¡¯d marked out on my map. Myalis provided me with a constant supply of acid drones. They hovered over the street, and soon the entire road glowed a faint green as the mist was carried over everything. The shit was eating through the paint on abandoned cars and peeling ads off of bus stops, but it was doing a number on the model threes too. The bigger models not so much. Model fours were hit hard. They had a lot of tentacles and all that, but I think something about their skin might have made them more resistant, though not by much. The model fives were just tanking the damage. They were big and thick enough that even my latest war crime of a grenade wasn¡¯t killing them quickly or efficiently. Maybe it would weaken them, injure a few, even, but unless they chose to stand under the acid shower, then they¡¯d still be a threat. ¡°Need some gravity nades,¡± I muttered as I leapt onto another rooftop. Myalis obliged, and I underhanded a couple of them over the crowd of aliens. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Increasing the gravity in an area or whatever did a number on the bigger, tougher bastards. The cat mecha on the other side have completed your project. The swarm has started to funnel into one road, though the Antithesis have found some ways through via the interior of various buildings. ¡°Got it,¡± I said. I ran faster, pushing myself so that I¡¯d be out ahead of the swarm. If they were being pushed onto one road, then that meant that the ideal place to kill them would be... I scraped to a stop and glanced down. The last open alleyway to join the swarm was one building away from a large intersection. That¡¯s where my funnel ended. A glance behind showed that it was working. Aliens were pouring out of the sideroads and pressing into each other on a straight path to this one passage. A few dozen had sprinted by already. A concern for someone else. I¡¯d be doing a lot more good by killing the tide here. ¡°Let¡¯s turn this place into a killing field,¡± I said. Myalis provided me with a pile of those acid bombs, and I tossed them out so that they¡¯d cover the entire road. A thump or two behind me announced the arrival of my cat mechas, their missions accomplished. The cats on either side of the road shifted to the edge of the roof, the guns on their backs deployed, then they started to fire their lasers down into the crowded aliens. It would take a couple of seconds to kill one, but with eight lasers spearing out into the street... ¡°Myalis, need a way to kill them all,¡± I said as I watched a chunk of the swarm sprint by. They were injured, painted green by acid, but still alive enough to be trouble. The main mass of the swarm would slip right on by. ¡°Give me some resonators.¡± Certainly. Though while you toss those down, I should warn you that at the speed the swarm is moving, neither the resonators nor the acid will be sufficient to kill even the smaller models. ¡°Right,¡± I muttered. What else could I do? ¡°Ideas?¡± I asked. You essentially need weapons that can kill the antithesis in a sustained way. Turrets placed above, combined with area-denial explosives such as your garrot grenades. Though, both would eventually be overrun. ¡°Yeah, maybe, but it¡¯ll blunt the edge of the swarm, and I think that¡¯s what we need right now. Push the worst of it back so that they can get on with building the wall. Nades first.¡± Myalis dropped a box full of grenades next to me, and I kicked it open, picked up a few, then flicked them down and onto the road. My aim wasn¡¯t perfect, but I didn''t exactly need accuracy for the oncoming horde. When the garrote grenades went off, it created pockets where everything was shredded apart. The swarm pushed into them as if trying to blunt the edge of the grenades with sheer force of meat. The grenades won out, though one of them did spark and break apart as a model five charged through it. The tougher hide was able to blunt and eventually break the explosive, though not without killing the model five first. ¡°Give the cats a few of these,¡± I said. ¡°They can toss them in, keep the area deadly. Fewer aliens were making it past, and those that did often flopped over dead a few dozen metres past the intersection. Too many cuts and acid and melting internals. Still, the wave came, and I knew there would be more big fuckers to come. I set down a few turrets, one near the middle of the roof, just to ward off any flyers, another near the roof-access doorway, for when some halfway clever alien inevitably snuck onto the roof. In the meantime, I kicked the door open and ran down myself. Just offices and break rooms and a sea of cubicles. I ran to the nearest window and started setting up more automated turrets. The cheap laser ones that could recharge themselves over time with a bit of sunlight. Cheap, weak, but dependable. I left proximity charges next to each, for the first lucky alien that came around and tried to grab a bite out of them. I glanced down onto the street and grinned. The pile of melting bodies was already hip-high in places, and it was only growing bigger as the wave pushed against itself, like meat through a strainer. ¡°This is going pretty well,¡± I said. Which is about when the artillery started to hit my position. *** Chapter Forty-Four - Dirty Break Chapter Forty-Four - Dirty Break ¡°Mental health services are, like healthcare, one of those things that just aren¡¯t profitable for a society whose main concern is monetary. In fact, it¡¯s worse than healthcare. With that, you can at least extort people for money. Someone with a gaping wound will be willing to pay much for treatment and to live. Someone hearing voices though? Someone going through a depressive period? Well, they¡¯re just not great clients. I think that¡¯s why all of the help and assistance we had just... disappeared one day.¡± --Jacob Washington, last member of the all-volunteer Suicide Watch group, 2023 *** I¡¯d seen buildings collapse before. I mean, on my media feeds. Happened all the time. Usually it was buildings that needed to be demolished, but every couple of weeks some mega-complex would fall apart all on its own. Shitty construction, too many cut corners, maybe the place was only designed to last thirty years and that was before you counted the years shaved off by subpar materials. So yeah I¡¯d seen plenty of buildings fall apart. Never seen it happen from the inside in first person though. ¡°Fuck fuck fuck,¡± I swore as the floor started to tilt. Office shit went flying, desks crashed down and chairs with those little wheels at the bottom went sailing across the room. I half-turned and planted a foot onto an exterior wall. The building was tipping towards the street below. The chairs and desks crashing around me eventually lost their momentum or hooked onto something, so the din in the room stilled. The cacophony outside though, didn¡¯t. A glance out the window showed blackened marks and craters punched into the road where a liberal application of heavy ordnance had rained down. The aliens had been pushed back a bit, but then so had some of my defences. Most of the garrote grenades were destroyed and I didn¡¯t see any of my acid sprayers left. The aliens regrouped and resumed their charge, this time meeting a lot less resistance. ¡°Dammit! Myalis, can you tell whoever aimed that last volley that I¡¯m going to kick their ass? We need to reset the defences.¡± Message sent. ¡°Right, thanks,¡± I said. I paused as the building creaked. A building this big tilting wasn¡¯t good, but maybe whoever had built the place knew what they were doing because it seemed to be holding. Catherine! Incoming volley! ¡°Are you seri--¡± Explosions rained down across the street, shells rammed into some of the buildings across from us, shrapnel and glass raining down in a cascade atop the aliens below. Then I heard something punch through the ceiling. I spun and saw a hole the size of my head missing in the middle of the office. Whatever had punched that hole went off and a gout of dust poured out into the office. I was blind, dust and smoke robbing me of sight. The floor fell out from under me, and I swore as I tumbled. Everything was moving in different directions, and for a panicked moment, all I could do was be rag-dolled around. Even with my armour, the breath was blown out of me as I was thrown about. Metal screamed and glass shattered. I think the building just decided to give up and crashed down onto the street. I hit something hard and it shifted beneath me. Then all my fighting and rolling around was stopped. A pressure grabbed onto my mechanical arm and didn¡¯t let go. Everything ended in a single, final boom that rattled my head. I blinked as the dust cleared a little. I was on my back, with a cement barrier about a handspan away from my face. I wiggled my toes, then shifted on the spot. Still had all of my meat limbs. There was no burning. I was fine. Peachy, even. Never better. Armour integrity is at seventy-four percent. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll need a new suit. The back component of your jump pack is damaged as well. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Okay. Uh... where the fuck am I?¡± Pinned under the building you were on. The topmost floor hit the building across the street, then it collapsed on top of your position. Here. A screen opened up in my augs and I got to see... a lot of wreckage through a thick film of dust. Some shit was on fire too. ¡°What am I seeing this from?¡± One of your cat mechas survived. ¡°Tough little shits,¡± I murmured. She was distracting me, wasn¡¯t she? ¡°Uh... Myalis, I think I¡¯m stuck.¡± You do have a building on top of you at the moment, yes. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. I swallowed. ¡°Okay. Yeah. That would do it.¡± My breathing came in a little faster, chest heaving. I didn¡¯t know why but I almost felt like laughing. ¡°I can¡¯t get out.¡± Catherine, you have a multitude of methods to remove yourself from this location. I can guide you through them. You are safe. ¡°Right. My arm?¡± Your cybernetic arm is pinned. Please do not activate the rocket within it. That would be irresponsible. This time I did laugh. ¡°Yeah, yeah, okay.¡± I tugged at my arm, but it didn¡¯t do much. The space I was in was... not very big. I¡¯d used public toilets with more room. A pocket that was maybe a metre wide, half that tall. I¡¯d lost my Bullcat somewhere along the way. Still had my sword buckled to my hip though. Too bad, I liked that gun. I tugged on the arm again, but it didn¡¯t move at all. ¡°I need to get this unstuck,¡± I said. I can release the arm. You¡¯ll be able to purchase another. It was beginning to be outdated compared to your other equipment anyway. ¡°Huh? Oh, yeah, okay.¡± There is one issue. The armour is nonfunctional in that section. It is likely that some of its internals were damaged. I cannot disengage it. ¡°Okay, okay,¡± I said. Well, when all you had was a sword that could cut through anything, everything started to look like a nail. Or something like that. I tugged the sword out of its sheath, then brought it up and around, blade part hovering over my bicep. I paused. What the fuck was I doing? There are more delicate tools for that sort of operation if you wish. Or I could contact other Vanguard for assistance. I swallowed. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡± Myalis had to know that I¡¯d put my own pride before any nervousness about self-mutilation. I took a deep breath. ¡°Fuck you,¡± I said. The sword activated with a snapping hiss and I closed my eyes as I sliced down. I didn¡¯t realise it, but the place I was resting was uneven. I shut the sword off quickly as I slid down deeper into my little nook, suddenly free from the arm holding me in place. ¡°Oh shit,¡± I said. I looked at the stump by my side. I¡¯d lived most of my life with only a stump there, it would probably be a lot more dramatic for someone losing their arm for the first time. But hey, practice made perfect and all that. I shifted, then sat up. There was barely enough room for that. ¡°Myalis, I want to get out of this hole.¡± Are you certain? It¡¯s actually relatively safe. ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± If you¡¯re going to purchase new limbs and new armour, then it makes sense to do so from a place of relative safety. ¡°Just get me out of this hole!¡± I closed my eyes and leaned back, head clunking against the cement behind me. ¡°Sorry,¡± I muttered. No apology is necessary. The ground shook a little, and I almost screamed, but the building held. Just artillery hitting nearby. Now, as for options to remove yourself from this location, might I suggest a short-range wormhole bomb? There are several other options, but this seems like the cheapest and most expedient. It is also relatively safe. ¡°I don¡¯t know, the words wormhole and bomb put together don¡¯t sound... safe. At all.¡± I can guarantee its safety, if that helps. ¡°And if you¡¯re wrong?¡± I asked. Then you¡¯ll be too dead to make a complaint. I felt like that deserved a laugh, but what escaped wasn¡¯t quite that. I sniffed. ¡°Okay, okay, let¡¯s do that.¡± New Purchase: M.I.C.E. Bomb Points Reduced to... 35,742 ¡°Mice bomb, really? What¡¯s that one mean?¡± I asked as a box landed on my chest. Micro-scale Intralocation Cat Extractor I paused. ¡°You really dove deep for that one,¡± I said. The box had a cylinder in it with a switch. That was it. Not even a pin to pull, or options to toggle. I shrugged, suppressed the weird feeling from my right side at the motion, then flicked the switch. I was in mid-air. That didn¡¯t last long. I crashed down, fortunately only a couple of centimetres, and winced as cement and rebar rained down around me. I was back on the street, or above it and the building I had been on. Did that teleport me a few metres straight up? ¡°Okay,¡± I said. It was immensely easier to breathe without the metaphorical weight of a building atop me. Unfortunately, being up here meant that I didn¡¯t have a building between me and the beasties. ¡°Ah, fuck,¡± I muttered. *** Chapter Forty-Five - Gear On Chapter Forty-Five - Gear On ¡°Deus Ex: And then they said that I couldn¡¯t just talk the talk.¡± Hyper Cutie Zoom Ranger Sparkle Girl Bubble-chan: Makes sense, yeah. Deus Ex: They said I had to walk the talk too. How... how do you walk a talk? What¡¯s that even mean?! Hyper Cutie Zoom Ranger Sparkle Girl Bubble-chan: ... Oh, Deus, sweetie, no.¡± -R/GapMoeSamukawaii, Top post of 2053 *** Myalis had landed me above the wreck of the building that toppled over. Which meant that I had appeared atop what was essentially a huge barrier blocking off an entire street. The horde couldn¡¯t pass here, not unless they were willing to climb up the wreckage. I groped for a gun, then slid my arm into my thigh holster and pulled out my Claw. I took a calming breath, then carefully planted a round in the middle of the chest of a model five which was busy scrambling over the ruined building. The wave had likely split off to run around the wreckage, but I had been busy before redirecting them this way. Now there were a lot of the fuckers waiting below to attempt their own climb over the wreckage. I spun then started to climb up the wreckage as well. The aliens didn¡¯t fail to notice me, of course. I was crawling right past a bunch of them and more had already made it to the other side and were resuming their charge towards New Montreal. I flicked up my back-mounted rails, but only one of them responded. It was enough for the moment, the railgun fired, poking a hole through the nearest model three. ¡°Myalis, need to get out of here,¡± I said. We could replace the back section of your jetpack. You could fly out of danger. I glanced back down. The wave was shifting, more aliens heading my way as if they intended to gobble me up on the way over. ¡°Sounds good,¡± I said. Something clunked on my back and the broken jetpack module fell. A box appeared on a flattish piece of concrete nearby and I tore it open while my railgun worked hard to keep the area around me clear. I slapped the jetpack on, then picked my Claw up again to fire a few rounds into the biggest aliens trying to catch up. The jets on my legs spurted, and the one on my back whined. ¡°Ready?¡± Indeed. Where to? I glanced up. ¡°Got to be a spot around here that¡¯s safeish,¡± I said. Checking... some security systems are still online. Here. The jets fired, nearly silent, and I was flung up and into the air. From above I could see the rubble of the fallen building, and some wreckage from other buildings too. The shelling hadn¡¯t been kind, and having one building ram into another created a huge fucking mess. The jets flew me sideways and then across the blockage created by the rubble. This location is somewhat safe for the moment. Firing your railgun. The gun over my shoulder swivelled around and fired three times in quick succession into the side of what looked like an office. A window burst apart at the impact, then I folded my legs up and ducked my head as Myalis tossed me through the hole that had left. I had to jog a bit to keep from falling over. A glance around revealed... a spa? Fancy place, lots of wooden panelling. Big windows overlooking the city and little semi-open rooms to the sides with massage tables. This is a luxury relaxation location for what seems to be a criminal syndicate. The location is currently abandoned. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. I could deal with that weirdness later. ¡°ETA for the next alien hungry for me?¡± I would estimate at least three hours. Likely more. The antithesis seem to be focused on reaching New Montreal first. They will push forwards before they start to scour the entire area for food and threats. Though the opening in the wall might let some flying models slip in. I nodded. ¡°Turrets, please.¡± Myalis gladly complied, and I casually tossed a couple of turrets down facing the window. ¡°Right, I need new armour, and an arm. Let¡¯s buy everything then I¡¯ll start changing, in case some fuckwit shells this place too.¡± The mortar companies have been warned not to hit the immediate location. ¡°Fat load of good that did me last time,¡± I muttered. I looked around, then noticed a sign that read ¡®sauna¡¯ hanging from the ceiling. I followed that into a large room with a domed ceiling and a ring of wooden seats. There was a big fire pit in the centre, with jugs filled with water next to it that had ladles hanging from the side. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Big fancy sauna. Perfect for what I needed. ¡°Arm first,¡± I said. Certainly. Can you assist in removing the armour over your shoulder? The armour shifted, plates moving up and away, but some of them looked jammed in place. I shoved my hand under those and tugged. Something snapped, and the plates over my shoulder and back fell apart. That left my shoulder exposed. I still had a meat shoulder, but it was covered by the mechanism for my prosthetic. That hissed, and I felt something like... like someone licking my brain. Then the prosthetic just fell off. ¡°Oh, hey,¡± I said. I wiggled my stump around. It was a bit pale, with some indentations where the prosthetic pushed into the skin. It actually felt good to free it, like taking off too-tight boots after a long day of walking. ¡°Been a while since I¡¯ve seen you.¡± What are you looking for in a new arm? I was going to be dismissive and brush the question off, just get something temporary. But I knew myself. My temporary was the next person¡¯s permanent. ¡°Uh... I want something with better tactile than my last one. Tougher would be nice. I didn¡¯t use the internal rocket much either, so maybe we skip that this time.¡± We could get an arm with a built-in grenade launcher. Something that would let you place explosives exactly where you want them. Or an arm with an aiming assistance module. ¡°No. I¡¯m going to learn how to aim all on my own. I¡¯m not useless. I¡¯m figuring it out. My aim is improving.¡± I took a deep breath. ¡°Can we do a grenade launcher that you can reload via teleportation?¡± That is easily done, yes. ¡°Cool,¡± I said. ¡°Also, I¡¯ve been thinking about this for a while, in terms of arm upgrades.¡± Yes? ¡°Can we have a vibrating function?¡± I asked. ... Yes. I imagine this is for Lucy? ¡°And for myself,¡± I added. Duly noted. What¡¯s your budget here? That will help determine the quality of the arm. I don¡¯t believe I can get anything that will fit all of your requirements for below one hundred and forty points. ¡°Call it a thousand points? It¡¯s going to be semi-permanent, I think. At least until the next time a building falls on me.¡± In that case... From your Sun Watcher Technologies tree, I¡¯d suggest the Lynx Nine. It¡¯s a modular design, which means it can come configured with the additions you want. A grenade launcher with an internal magazine, tactile receptors, and a vibration system with seventeen vibration modes. It¡¯s significantly more durable than your previous arm, though it is a little heavier. No more so than your own flesh and blood limb. ¡°Sounds perfect,¡± I said. I glanced out of the room as I heard a distant boom. More artillery? ¡°We should speed this up.¡± New Purchase: Lynx Nine Modular Arm Points Reduced to... 35,559 A box appeared on one of the wooden benches next to me. I didn¡¯t open it just yet. ¡°Armour next?¡± Certainly. Did you like your previous suit? ¡°Yeah, it was great, still kind of is,¡± I said. I tightened my fist, then let it open. ¡°Something similar? A slightly upgraded model, perhaps? You won¡¯t be doing as much stealth-based activities in this active warzone, I don¡¯t believe. We can get you something a little heavier. More armour, with more hardpoints. Built-in jump jets and more power. Next time artillery strikes your position, you won¡¯t notice it as much. I laughed. ¡°Sounds good. I do like my stealth though.¡± We can switch out the servos for higher-end, quieter models, the boots can have silent-running treads, and the jump jets can be designed to be whisper-quiet. The armour panels can also have adaptive camouflage, though it won¡¯t be as good as a suit entirely designed for stealth. ¡°Get it,¡± I said. ¡°Price isn¡¯t much of an issue. New Purchase: The Tiger¡¯s Mane, Mark XXI Points Reduced to... 34,159 The armour that appeared before me wasn¡¯t too different to what I had on. It was bigger though, a least half a head taller than what I had on, and a lot bulkier. I also purchased some back-mounted guns, as you like them. ¡°Nice,¡± I said. I pulled the release on my own armour and stepped out of it. It was time to gear up. Then, back to killing xenos. *** Chapter Forty-Six - New Plan: Kill Everything Chapter Forty-Six - New Plan: Kill Everything ¡°Are you worried about the incoming horde of hungry man-eating aliens invading your city? Coming to the realisation that while money is great, it doesn¡¯t mean much when there¡¯s an alien munching on your face? Then invest in Protecto-Tech today! The world¡¯s leading provider of VIP vaults and high-end protective services! Live a life of temporary luxury in one of our hyper-fortified bases! No human experimentation, guaranteed!¡± --Protecto-Tech, prototype ad, 2050 *** The moment I was completely out of my old armour, the entire thing closed itself back up and stepped to the side. It actually freaked me out a little. But the armour just walked itself to the room¡¯s entrance and stood there, one back-mounted gun pointing out into the hallway beyond. ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered. Just a safety precaution. What do you want to do with your old armour? ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted. ¡°Think Lucy would like it?¡± It would need to be modified slightly to fit her proportions. She¡¯s a few centimetres shorter and wider at the hips. It would be uncomfortable. She also lacks the augmentations or AI support to fully utilise the armour. ¡°Eh, fair enough. Can it stick around in here and defend itself? We¡¯ll see about picking it up once things have calmed down a bit.¡± Noted. I walked over to the box with my new arm. It had a single clasp on the front, which was handy because I only had one hand now. The case hissed as it opened and a bit of antiseptic smelling steam escaped the edges. The arm wasn¡¯t too dissimilar to my old one. Sleek grey metal with a few plates that were edged in glowing neon. It was a bit less bulky. Likely the lack of a missile launcher worked into it. ¡°So how do I equip this one? Just jam it onto stubby here?¡± I wiggled my stub. More or less. You can expect something similar to having a ¡®sleeping¡¯ limb awaken. I raised the arm and turned it around. There was a hole for my stump, and some sections that would reach all the way up to my collarbone and over my shoulder bone thing... what was that called? The scapula or something. You will have to remove your suit for it to make contact with your skin. Lowering the arm back into its box, I unzipped the front of my armoured suit and tugged it off my right side. I hadn¡¯t realised how chilly it was here. Then I grabbed the arm again and slid it on. There was a warm pressure over my side, and a feeling of suction, like I was getting the world¡¯s biggest hickey. Then I suddenly had feeling in my new hand and arm. I gasped as I felt a million tingles running up and down the arm. It really was like waking up after Lucy used me as a pillow and cut off my circulation. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s annoying,¡± I said. Moving the new hand around seemed to help, the pins and needles feeling fading gently. Connection established. Everything should be functional now. ¡°Nice,¡± I said. Then I used my new arm to remove the rest of my undersuit. ¡°Need a new one of these.¡± I slipped my feet out of my old suit, then flicked it aside like so much dirty laundry. I glanced around. I was entirely naked, aside from the new arm, in the middle of enemy territory. ¡°Actually, give me a minute, I¡¯m gonna use the washroom while I¡¯m here.¡± How wonderfully pragmatic. Do you want an improved version of your under armour too? ¡°Sure,¡± I said as I started looking for the bathroom. It couldn¡¯t be far from the sauna, could it? I found it behind a faux-wood wall. It was the men¡¯s washroom, but no one was around to tell me no. New Purchase: Armoured Stealth-Capable Undersuit Points Reduced to... 34,009 My new suit appeared in a little box, and I unwrapped it--after washing my hands--then slid into it. It was about as comfortable as the last one, which is to say it felt like I was slipping into something made of the fur of a hundred newborn kittens. The design wasn¡¯t changed too much. Still mostly black with a few neon highlights and some armoured plates over important bits. ¡°Okay,¡± I said as I fiddled with the neck. It was a bit tight. Not uncomfortable, but nearly. ¡°Let¡¯s armour up.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The new armour¡¯s back unfolded, revealing a space that looked about me-shaped. I placed a foot in the opening meant for it, then climbed in properly, the armour closing up around me and pulling me in tighter against the armour¡¯s front. My vision was entirely darkened for a moment before everything ahead of me lit up, the screens within the helmet part of the armour turning the world into a more vibrant version of reality, where shadows were only a suggestion. I wiggled my shoulders and felt the armour responding without any noticeable delay. It was a bit weird to bring my hand up and see the armour¡¯s hand move at the same time. It wasn¡¯t quite in the right spot. My meat hand was somewhere in the armour¡¯s forearm. I¡¯d get used to it in a minute, I suspected. ¡°What¡¯s this armed with?¡± I asked. Only two shoulder-mounted guns. They are a significant upgrade over your previous models. I nodded, and then stopped. It was still weird moving my head. Heading out of the room, I was stopped by my old armour. It grabbed my Void Terminus by the hilt and raised it up before me, holding the sword in my path. ¡°Oh, right,¡± I said. I grabbed the sword just under its guard, then leaned forward to see my waist. A small armour segment unfolded by my hip, and when I pressed the sheath against it, the armour grabbed onto it. Handy. There was a mirror just outside the sauna, and I glanced at myself as I walked by. The armour gave me a good boost to my height. I wouldn¡¯t be taller than the tallest man, but I¡¯d be meeting him eye-to-eye. I was also a lot stockier. My old armour had curves. This one had armoured plates. That was sexy in its own way, I supposed. Also, a tail, with a very sharp looking thagomizer. ¡°Alright, get me one of those Bullcats, and I think I¡¯m ready to go,¡± I said. A gun appeared in the air next to me and I caught it before it had time to fall. If you don¡¯t have a current plan, then might I suggest some actions? ¡°Uh, sure?¡± I said as I started to look for an elevator or stairwell up. The Family has an updating feed of the wave and its movements, as well as feeds from Vanguard on the front lines and from the various PMC commands. The current most urgent call for assistance is relatively close to your position. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked. Vanguard Grasshopper has been injured and is requesting assistance. I froze. ¡°Why the fuck didn¡¯t you tell me earlier?¡± The request is only seconds old. She is One point two kilometres north-west of your position. Your suit can fly short distances. Once you¡¯re out in the open it should be easy to make your way there. ¡°Which way¡¯s north?¡± I asked. An arrow appeared, pointing me in the right direction, and I took off running in that direction. There was a wall in the way, of course, with a big window that opened up onto the busy city below. So I raised my new Bullcat and opened fire with full-auto into the glass. My new armour was sturdy enough that I didn¡¯t even feel any recoil. The glass felt it though. It might have been that tough sort designed to withstand some damage and prevent office suicides, but it wasn¡¯t rated for dealing with anxious Samurai. I shot out into the open air, trailing a cascade of tinkling glass. The streets below were teeming with aliens, some of whom took a moment to look up towards me. Then my jump jets kicked on and my downwards fall turned into an arc that led me up and over to the next building. ¡°Myalis, acid bombs. Let¡¯s give those fuckers down there something to think about. Actually, fuck it, let¡¯s mix it up with some normal bombs too.¡± Certainly. ¡°And while we¡¯re at it, can we unlock the next tier on my bomb catalogue? I want more fun toys to play with.¡± New Purchase: Esoteric Single-Use Explosive Devices Tier II Points Reduced to... 32,409 Expensive, but probably worth it. And honestly, not doing much to put a dent into my current savings. ¡°Thanks, Myalis.¡± Anything to lessen the Antithesis threat. I sprinted across the rooftop, then jumped once I got to the other side. While in the air, Myalis summoned a heap of bombs for me, which I dropped with glee atop the alien hoard. They¡¯d be able to track my progress with the bodies I left behind. *** Chapter Forty-Seven - Safe, Not Sound Chapter Forty-Seven - Safe, Not Sound ¡°We are here today to lay a good person to rest. It¡¯s... it¡¯s something I¡¯ve heard before. They always say that the person who died was a good person. It¡¯s usually a load of bullshit. Not today though. Sprocket Rocket was a good person. A real fucking hero. Sure, he was... he was a bit nuts, and he was a reckless kind of guy. But fuck if he wasn¡¯t spectacular. So many people owe their lives to him. I... I might too. I¡¯m sorry, big bro. Your dream¡¯s not going to die with you, alright? I promise.¡± --Longbow, at the funeral of the samurai Sprocket Rocket, 2048 *** I ran to a stop on the edge of a rooftop. Some boring rectangle of a building, with nothing to make it stand out except an odd number of AC units on the rooftop. Behind me, on the road I¡¯d just jumped over, were a couple of hundred aliens currently enjoying some acid rain coupled with a sprinkling of more traditional explosives. The property damage I was leaving behind was going to cost billions, I suspected. Grasshopper¡¯s tally probably wasn¡¯t going to be far behind. Looking down at the street below, I could make out entire chunks of concrete missing, some looking like they¡¯d been punched right off the walls. Other areas had a sprinkling of bullet holes punching into the buildings, the roads, and through the corpses of dozens and dozens of antithesis. It was a charnel house down there. Aliens laying in heaps, having fallen where they ran. Not as much blood as I might have expected. Each alien that was dead had a hole poking right through their skull, usually between the eyes. I imagined that all of those holes in the walls were created after a round went through some alien¡¯s brain. ¡°Which way?¡± I asked. Myalis¡¯ reply was to create a red circle which hovered over everything off to my left. There were more bodies that way, not that the bodies would remain there forever. The antithesis were starting to poke into the road from the sides, some of them moving with a bit more caution, others running in while their skin sizzled under the effects of my acid. I tossed a pair of acid bombs up and over the road. They¡¯d dissolve the bodies, maybe keep some of the aliens from following. Running along the rooftops, I traced the path that Grasshopper had left. At some point she ran into an apartment building. Judging by the semi-circle of bodies piled up by the entrance, she had stayed there for a while. Some of the bodies were shoved aside on one side. I squinted, then zoomed in with my cybernetic eye. Lots of footprints in that spot. Easy to make out since they¡¯d stepped through a puddle of antithesis blood-stuff. ¡°Was she with a group of civvies?¡± I asked. Unknown. It¡¯s possible though. Let me verify... yes. Grasshopper received a report that a civilian safehouse was in this area and wasn¡¯t going to be able to withstand an artillery assault. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. I listened for a bit. There was a non-stop thumping in the background, with the occasional whistle to punctuate it. The constant bombardment was mostly on the further edges of the city though, and it was easy to dismiss it as a sort of horrific background noise. ¡°Are they going to bomb this position?¡± Eventually, yes. Currently the area is marked as a do-not-fire zone. You should be safe. That was nice. I didn¡¯t feel like getting crushed twice in one day. I picked up the pace. Grasshopper wasn¡¯t far. She wasn¡¯t moving either, not according to Myalis, and I was growing increasingly worried that whatever injury she had, it wasn¡¯t just a bruise and a papercut. I came around a corner, then slowed to a stop as I took in the scene. Half a dozen model fives, all splattered around and very dead. Next to them, with half of its body shoved into the back of some office, was a bigger, nastier looking alien. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I asked. That¡¯s a model fourteen. It¡¯s a transportation unit. Fast-moving and well-armoured. Not necessarily effective at being offensive, but it is capable of carrying other models across the ground fairly rapidly. It never stops growing, adding new segments whenever it has consumed enough biomass. The alien was about the length of a bus, its entire body made of segments of greenish flesh covered in thick carapace and filled with sharp legs beneath. A few holes the size of my torso were missing from some of its segments, but it looked like it took quite a few of those to kill it. I jumped off the edge of the building, jump jets activating to slow down my fall before I hit the ground with a heavy thump and bent knees. I ran around the model fourteen, just in case it wasn¡¯t as dead as it looked. ¡°Resonator,¡± I asked. Myalis delivered, and I flicked the grenade on and tossed it underhand beneath the model fourteen¡¯s corpse. If it wasn¡¯t entirely dead, then that might melt off the rest of it. I didn¡¯t envy Grasshopper having to deal with that thing. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°I didn¡¯t think we¡¯d see models that big so soon,¡± I said. It has been long enough that models above ten should be appearing, though in limited numbers. Limited numbers was good. Now if we could just limit those numbers to zero or below, then everything would be just fine. The model fourteen looked armoured enough that I wasn¡¯t sure the average artillery shell would take it out. I squeezed past the centipede¡¯s head--an ugly thing, with a tiny mouth and far too many eyes that looked like they were squeezed out of the big armoured plates on its ¡®face¡¯--and into the office proper. More dead aliens. Model threes and fours, most of them with those perfect holes between their eyes, but a few were just blasted full of holes pretty much at random. It was the kind of shooting I¡¯d do, which worried me even more. I walked a bit faster. Grasshopper was close. I came around a corner and found her pressed up against the fallen wall of a cubical. She was sitting on the ground, arms laying by her side, her green suit covered in black-red blood. A rifle was discarded off to the right, and the arms of her suit held a few handguns which pointed at me for a moment before lowering themselves. She wasn¡¯t moving. ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± I said. I ran over to her, jumped over the body of some unimportant alien, then landed at a crouch by her side. ¡°Myalis, tell me she¡¯s alive,¡± I said. I¡¯m registering a heartbeat from her suit. Her AI is still active. Her brain is still oxygenated and functional, though her vitals are decreasing. Blood loss, as well as shock. She has some internal modifications that are compensating for the biological organs that aren¡¯t functioning. ¡°Med kit, now,¡± I said. A box appeared by my side. The same set that I¡¯d used on Racoon a while ago, though this one seemed a bit bigger. I tore it open, found the right tubes and pulled them over to Grasshopper. I hesitated. Where was I going to stick them? I¡¯ll ask her AI to open parts of her armour. Grasshopper¡¯s armour unfolded around her face and upper chest. It jammed around the middle, where it was obvious something had struck her. I didn¡¯t waste any more time, pressing the tubes in close before backing off as the machine got to work. ¡°I need cat mechs. Give me like, six of them. Secure the area around here.¡± Six boxes appeared and robotic cats unfolded themselves from inside them and immediately started to patrol the room, some of them moved outside and out of the range of my hearing. That¡¯d keep any of the smaller aliens at bay for a bit. ¡°How is she?¡± I asked. I pulled Grasshopper back so that she was laying down flat instead of up against the wall. The arms sticking out of the back of her armour helped a little, repositioning themselves to make it easier. She¡¯s unlikely to die at the moment, though her injuries will make combat difficult. Do you want me to call for additional assistance? I considered it for just a moment. ¡°Yeah, do so. We need to get her out of the front lines. She can recover better without having to worry about some alien popping out of nowhere to eat her. Probably somewhere a little less dirty too.¡± Myalis brought up a scan of Grasshopper¡¯s body. It looked like all of her veins and muscles and bones, with more and more details being filled in as the nanomachines I was pumping into her travelled across her body and catalogued her injuries. It looked like one leg was broken at the shin and her knee on that same leg was fucked. There were a few ribs that weren¡¯t in the right spot too. Lots of internal fuckery around her abdomen. ¡°What hit her?¡± I asked. The model fourteen. A moment of inattention or hesitation and she was struck hard enough to be injured. Her armour fortunately took the worst of the damage. I looked around. There were a few little healing pack things on the ground that weren¡¯t mine. Had she been trying to heal herself while laid out here? ¡°She¡¯s tough,¡± I said. ¡°She¡¯ll make it.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Grasshopper agreed. ¡°Hey!¡± I gasped before leaning in closer. ¡°You¡¯re awake?¡± ¡°A little,¡± she said. ¡°That was unpleasant. Is that you, Stray Cat?¡± I nodded, then realized her eyes were screwed shut. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s me. Lemme get you some pain killers. Something to get you back onto your feet.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be peachy,¡± she said. ¡°I like that word. It¡¯s tasty.¡± She gasped. ¡°Cat! The people. Go check on the people. They¡¯re behind me. I sent them away. Had to keep them safe. Please!¡± Her eyes opened, and she locked onto me, pleading. I nodded. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, turrets. I don¡¯t want anything nasty interrupting her healing.¡± Then I ran off, because helping people was something I could do better than waiting around for a friend to get better. *** Chapter Forty-Eight - Its Never Easy Chapter Forty-Eight - It''s Never Easy ¡°And so I thought to myself... these games, their gacha mechanics and rewards, they addict our clients, the players. What if I ran a business the same way? Competitive WvW, where the W means Worker. It was genius!¡± --Extract from the biography of Nimbletainment¡¯s owner, 2039 *** ¡°Who am I looking for?¡± I asked Myalis. The group that Grasshopper was escorting was thirty-six members strong. I¡¯m afraid that I can confirm that some of them have died. There are some cameras still active throughout the building. ¡°Fuck,¡± I said. Knowing Grasshopper, with all of her... Grasshopper-iness, she wouldn¡¯t take that all that well. ¡°Let¡¯s find at least some of them alive.¡± The first floor of the building was all offices and cubicles and that sort of horrific shit. I counted no less than three water coolers as I ran deeper into the building. The centre was a wide-open space sporting balconies on the floors above with glass sides, a large staircase, and in the very centre, a glass-walled elevator. It probably made the poor fucks tied to one of the cubicles feel great when they could crane their neck back and see the people a few levels above them. Right now, the steps leading up had a lot of blood on them. I swore as I ran through the lobby and skipped over some woman¡¯s corpse. ¡°Was she one of Grasshopper¡¯s?¡± I asked. She was. The group moved up. Made sense. They wanted distance. Didn¡¯t look like it worked out too well though. I counted four more bodies on the staircase. Three dead aliens too, Model threes with their faces caved in or with mangled bones. So the group were fighting back. Probably for the best. Model threes weren¡¯t too hard to kill, overall. I¡¯d done it with one arm and a pipe. I crouched, then jumped up. Myalis caught on to my intentions and fired off the jets on my legs, sending me rocketing up the space around the stairs. I twisted a bit and landed unsteadily on the third floor. Another body, this one next to three dead model threes. A fourth was chewing the corpse¡¯s face. The alien paused mid-chew and turned its too-many-eyed face my way. I stomped over to it and swung a boot into the side of its face. I don¡¯t know if it was the anger, the armour, or some combination of the two, but the kick smashed it hard enough that it crumpled to the side, very much dead. Leaning down, I checked on the faceless guy, then shook my head. Very dead. It looked like he was still holding onto a big knife that was stained green with alien goop. Those around him had clearly been stabbed a few times. Good man. In other circumstances, he¡¯d be hailed a hero. I walked past him. There was a trail of blood leading deeper in to follow. As good an indication of where I had to go as any. Bullcat raised, I started to follow the blood trail. The group must have moved pretty quickly. How long had Grasshopper been out of the fight for? A few minutes? There are antithesis entering the building from a skybridge linked to the next building over. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Which floor?¡± The third. ¡°Which floor are we on now?¡± I asked. The third. That was just brilliant. Folk had run up here for safety, then they¡¯d run to the one floor that had more aliens coming onto it. I entered a large cafeteria space. Lots of tables with seating for two spread out across the room, with a couple of franchise food-dispensers up against one wall with some vending machines next to them. Someone had died pressed up against an anime-figure, some company mascot, with a speech bubble above her head. ¡°Don¡¯t forget! Only company-approved meals in the official rest and restoration cafeteria!*¡± Not the nicest place to die. I leaned down, one hand dropping from my gun to shift the body aside. She¡¯d been bitten in the back of the neck. Claw marks cut through her pseudo-leather coat. I continued moving, eyes sweeping around. More bodies near the room¡¯s exit. It looked like the room¡¯s exit was one of those barricades that dropped from the ceiling. It had been pried open, the long pole used for leverage discarded to one side. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. The small opening meant that everyone had to get to all fours to squeeze through. That had probably taken some time. A fat guy was currently wedged in the gap, a few more bodies mangled behind him. I looked around for another way through, then I lowered my gun so that it hung on by its strap and I grabbed the metal grating in both hands and pulled in opposite directions. The entire thing ripped apart above and tipped to the side. Not what I wanted, but it worked. I pulled at it again and the barricade came crashing down with a jangle of metal on metal. I walked on through. More offices, these much bigger, with glass walls between them and big desks with chairs to receive clients. The front-facing part of the business, then. A helpful body pointed me in the right direction. Some guy bent over weirdly, a couple of dead model threes next to him. It was only as I was walking past that I noticed he was bent over a second body, clutching it close to keep it... her, safe. I checked for a pulse on both. I moved on. Screaming up ahead had me refocusing on what was at hand. I started running down the corridors until I rounded a corner and found Grasshopper¡¯s people. They were using a couple of desks as a barricade. One was wielding an office chair like a battering ram. They were stuck in a corner office, the entrance hounded by half a dozen model threes and a model four. It felt strangely familiar. I slowed my sprint to a more careful walk, then raised up my Bullcat. I made sure there wasn¡¯t anyone behind where I¡¯d be shooting, then I flicked the gun to full auto. It was like pressing a chainsaw into a steel drum filled with loose pans. A screeching scream filled the corridor as pellets rained across the passage. The aliens were shredded in a blink, the wall behind them filled with a thousand pinpricks. The screaming from the office intensified for one brief moment, then calm settled. I walked over, then eyed the other length of corridor. I could see the skybridge from out of a window, but not the entrance onto this floor, which was past a few walls. There were some aliens running over in through passageway. I mowed them down with a quick burst, then my gun clicked empty. ¡°Reload,¡± I said before turning to the barricade. ¡°Any injured?¡± I asked. There was a sudden cacophony of thanks and demands. ¡°Save me!¡± ¡°Thank you!¡± ¡°Oh god, oh god.¡± I pumped the Bullcat. The heavy Ker-chunk silenced everyone. ¡°I asked if there were any injuries,¡± I repeated myself. ¡°We¡¯ll tend to those, then move back downstairs. Grasshopper¡¯s down there. She¡¯ll be wanting to see you.¡± The barricade came down in quick order. I got two more cat mechs, just to keep an eye on the group, then I handed out healing packs like they were candy. They were basically smaller, cheaper versions of the nanomachine healing suite that I¡¯d used on Grasshopper. Small enough that someone could just stick it against their own side and hold it there while it did its thing. Probably nowhere near as effective, but the worst injury I saw was a bad cut on one guy''s leg. ¡°Myalis, I need a way back down that won¡¯t pass through the same corridors,¡± I said. There were some kids in the group. They¡¯d probably seen worse on TV, but... yeah. Myalis outlined a map for me, and with a nod, I started off in that direction. They followed, though some of them protested. I think the idea of not having a samurai around to keep them safe did wonders to quell the protests of those who were in that kind of mood. Our path back down was done mostly through more discreet stairwells on the edges of the building. No one complained about having to go down a couple of floors. The cat mecha I¡¯d bought watched the group¡¯s back while I took the front. On arriving at the first floor, I was greeted by one of the mechs I¡¯d left with Grasshopper. The cat nodded, then turned and strutted off in the way only a cat could. We crossed some dead aliens a bit later, which might have explained all of that. All that was left was getting back to Grasshopper, then figuring a way to get her and the civilians out of the area safely. Easy. *** AI-pocrypha - GPT-3 Written Epigraphs Alright, so the following are all pre-chapter excerpts (epigraphs) created by a GPT-3 AI who was fed the entirety of Stray Cat Strut. I¡¯ve curated the selection a bit, since a lot of them were... nonsensical. Those which were nonsensical and funny remain. The rest, not so much. I¡¯ve provided some commentary in italics below the AI-generated sections. Anything not in italics on this page was written by GPT-3. Huge thank-you to Hazerdous1222, who... basically did all the work. I not only lack the time to figure this out, I also lack the brains. Hazardous is something of an AI genius. Also, to any of you who still think that writers won¡¯t be replaced by AI in the coming years... well, uh, bad news! "Hacking for Dummies is a program where some of the better-liked celebrities and great people in the world today help to teach beginner hackers so that they can spend their time ruining the lives of people across the globe." This one broke the formatting a little, it was one of the first time we tried to run the engine. Still, I thought it was pretty funny!

"The last time the time standard was updated, the world was still flat and full of dragons." --The Historian, after replacing a New Time standard with a ¡®Utter Bullshit Standard'' during his tenure as head of the Bureau Of Standards in 1600 AD This one is my favourite of the entire lot. Yes, it¡¯s nonsensical, but it¡¯s just absurd enough to be hilarious. I too, wished that we used UBS time in our day-to-day.

"Foundation Class is for those that have shown themselves worthy to improve the world in ways not just through weaponry, but through technology and science. Would-be Recruits of this Class must meet certain Tier requirements as laid out below." --from listing by Agent Ash Jameson, Isodropensia Division No 572, 2052 I can kind of see where the AI pulled this one. Still, some parts are bizarre. Isodropensia... just isn¡¯t a thing. At all. It just flat-out made a word up.

We need a lot of firepower. It''s time for an Air Strike! Extremely sorry about the puns, but this is too good to pass up!" --Anonymous International Collateral Damage Prevention Kit commercial, 2037-2038 If you cut off the third line, it might actually make for a great epigraph.

It''s been three years now since the first moment when a woman could access her sexual health, and still no one knows exactly what that experience is. The technological crew at DocTing decided to keep their favourite service close to the chest, hiring security for the triple digit billion dollar servers that power it. While few know what goes on behind those screens, hardly anyone really wants to know." --Excerpt from New York Journal of Sex Technology, March 2038 I have no idea what the heck this means, but I¡¯m all for it. Also, DocTing? I don¡¯t know how the AI came up with that name, but it seems like a plausible name for a fake medical corporation. I¡¯m pretty sure the New Your Journal of Sex Technology isn¡¯t a thing either. Creative!

"Off the grid, quiet, and as far as we can tell, non-human." --Excerpt of conversation between Samurai and members of a Colombian Cartel, 2038 A bit short, but a really good example of an epigraph. This one has style and it shows that with only 24 words.

There are a lot of myths about Samurai and how they live. One is that they are all world-saving marvels, doing good deeds for the sake of the common folk. Another is that there will be talented but vampiric Saiara on top of their leaderless skyscraper fortresses, gathering to them gaggles of admiring girls who see them as powerhouses too great to resist. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. And then there''s Myalis, a near-omnipotent AI whose only weakness is being called fat. What she does with her time couldn''t be further from any of those things if she tried." --Excerpt from "The Tales That Myalis Can GPT-3 just flat out calling Myalis fat had me cackling.

"There is a point when the thing you do needs to stop being something special. At that point, if you are lucky, it becomes part of your identity." Well, that¡¯s just inspiring.

"Open cities that stay open. This is the goal of our second project, to establish a region of world wide plural governance, democracy and freedoms for all. Destroy and rebuild the barriers between us all! We can do it!!" -- An excerpt from Viral''s speech at a town hall virtual meet-up during the second wave in 2052. A quote attributed to him since, even though he claims not to have said such an outrageous thing. Regardless, his political party did win a significant share of seats during that year''s federal election cycle." I¡¯ve seen the AI mess up the formatting a few times, but this one is interesting, where the quote section tells you a lot more about the quote than the quote itself. Interesting divergence.

"Most of the time, the VIPs that shuffle around are one-or-bother people. They exist for the sake of looking impressive to others and only need a few guards to get from A to B. The more important a person is, the larger their security needs." --Myriam on Security Experts, 2020 Another decent epigraph. I can see this one existing in-story. It doesn¡¯t speak much of the human condition, but some of the epigraphs I wrote are similarly plain.

"Put bluntly, the public''s trust in governments and other entities is at an all-time low. It''s not just politicians who are losing their image with the public, it''s anyone who has a government job in any aspect." --?The Vanishing Economist Really digging the name ¡®The Vanishing Economist.¡¯ Also, a decent epigraph.

"The easiest way to keep the peace, is to just raze everything Everything a few kilometers on every side of them. Everyone ends up as anonymous bodies in a mass grave, no one wins. The cities stop making money so they can''t afford to donate to the subhuman cause." --Senator Alfred Von Grating, 2031 What a heartwarming statement! I can imagine a real senator saying something vaguely similar, so it¡¯s a pretty spot-on SCS epigraph candidate.

"PLAYING AND CHEATING WITH PLAYERS Manipulating the game to defeat other players and manipulate the outcome of the game is considered a legal tactic. Allowed in-game cheating and manipulation are entirely within the realm of how it should be, so long as exploitation exists within reason." -- excerpt from A Gamer''s Guide: Playing StarCraft by Twinge Publishing Ltd., 2028 An interesting one. I recognize Twinge and the fake ¡°Twitch¡± I created. I don¡¯t recall ever mentioning Starcraft in SCS, but the AI has access to plenty of public records that likely tie the game to... well, games.

"The nature of Flashes in the Dark remains one of the most controversial points of discussion for fans and critics alike. Some claim that it''s only a metaphor, that there is nothing beyond symbolism, subtext and allusion. Others maintain with conviction that their artistic vision extends to their own philosophical beliefs and religious understandings. Still others refuse to lend any credence or gravitas to the issue." --A Companion''s Guide To Music & Pop Culture In 2046, 2047 Edition! (2047) chapter 5: The Sound Of Crime! Somehow, a little ominous. Also, ¡®the Sound of Crime¡¯ is a really cool name and I¡¯m stealing it.

And that¡¯s all for now. If you want to play around with the system, join my discord! The bot¡¯s in one of its own channels. If you want to support this kind of nonsense, then join OpenAI with a free account and send the apikey to hazardous1222#8826 on Discord! If you have any questions about the AI itself, then... ask them here, I guess! This is going to be part one of two. I¡¯m working on some mini-interludes written with AI assistance. We¡¯ll see how that turns out! Chapter Forty-Nine - Those Who Love Cannons Chapter Forty-Nine - Those Who Love Cannons ¡°You saw something scary? You were a little afraid? Aww, poor baby. Have you tried Manning the Fuck Up? Manning the Fuck Up is a vitamin and protein supplement for REAL MEN. It is packed full of protein, essential vitamins, and serotonin reuptake inhibitors that¡¯ll have you feeling like a killer again! PTSD is a myth. There¡¯s no such thing. What¡¯s that? You¡¯re some cry baby woman? Then try Woman the Fuck Up! It¡¯s the pink bottles, bitch.¡± --Force-Viral ad for Doctor Fist¡¯s Real Medicine, 2026 *** The first thing I did once I was back on the ground floor was to check on the mecha cats. I had a handy app-like bit of software I could tap into that basically gave me a shitty map of the area and showed me where the cat-drones were in relation to me. They were all green, which I figured meant we were safe for the moment. Then I checked on Grasshopper. My... friend was leaning up against a wall, legs sprawled out and the nanomachine healing kit sitting on her lap. She had a granola bar in one hand and was chewing it slowly as I approached. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°Feeling better?¡± She chewed a few more times, then swallowed. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°I suspect I¡¯m dosed with enough painkillers that attempting to operate anything wouldn¡¯t be a wise choice.¡± ¡°Yeah, I bet,¡± I said. The civilians filed into the area behind me. They were sticking close to each other, like a frightened herd of deer that had just been startled. Their eyes were open the same way, as if the first loud noise they heard would be enough to spook them. Honestly, I couldn¡¯t blame them. Still, if they were a bit more calm, I¡¯d consider arming them up for their own safety. As it was... that didn¡¯t seem wise. Grasshopper leaned up so that she could see the civilians better. ¡°There¡¯s... less of them,¡± she said. ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. ¡°Oh.¡± It was just one little sound, but the way she said it carried a lot of baggage. I half turned and gestured the civilians away. They were reluctant to move until a few of the cat mechs in the area herded them away. I knelt down next to Grasshopper. ¡°Are you okay?¡± I asked. She considered it, then took a bite of her granola bar and nodded. That was the most I¡¯d get out of her, I figured. ¡°We need to find a way to get everyone out of here,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t think we can escort the civvies out to the edge of the city. Not with the wave already on top of us.¡± I pulled up the Family¡¯s map and winced. They had a separate, more zoomed-in and detailed map of the current area. It was being updated a lot more frequently than their regional map. The wave was already at the space where the wall should have been. A glance revealed it to be made of hundreds of red pinpricks, some of which winked out. I imagined that the defenders were pretty busy. We were maybe seven hundred metres away from the edge, if we could go in a straight line. That wouldn¡¯t be possible. ¡°I¡¯m going to call the Family for backup,¡± I said. ¡°Bet we can get some mercs to fly a tank over. Then we can load everyone on and send them off to safety.¡± ¡°I imagine you¡¯ll want me to go as well?¡± Grasshopper asked. ¡°If you think you need it,¡± I said. ¡°Personally... I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do. But I¡¯m both stupid and hardheaded, which I¡¯ve been told is about as attractive as it is annoying. You always struck me as being pretty smart. Smarter than I am, so I¡¯m not gonna tell you what to do.¡± Grasshopper chuckled. ¡°Thank you, Stray Cat.¡± ¡°Just Cat,¡± I said. She nodded, plopped the last of her bar into her mouth, then made a shooing gesture at me. ¡°Make that call, Cat,¡± she said. I did as she asked, climbing to my feet and walking over to the edge of the room where I pulled up Laserjack¡¯s number. I dialled and hoped he wasn¡¯t so busy that he¡¯d just ignore the call. It rang twice before he picked up. ¡°Are you going to die in the next ten seconds?¡± Laserjack said, his voice gruff and not ready to take anyone¡¯s shit. ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Give me half a minute,¡± Laserjack said. I waited as the line clicked off and went mute. I crossed my arms but made an effort not to get irritated. The dude was taking care of a whole lot of shit all at once. He was a samurai, just like me, I could afford him a bit of respect. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°Alright,¡± he said a minute later. ¡°What¡¯s on fire?¡± ¡°Nothing. I need evac at my location for a bunch of civilians.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll be hard to swing,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re in the middle of it.¡± ¡°Civilians and Grasshopper. She¡¯s injured. I gave her some shit, she won¡¯t die here, but seeing a doc wouldn¡¯t hurt. Might need stitches or whatever you give to someone that got chewed up.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± he said. ¡°How many civilians?¡± ¡°Maybe twenty, twenty-five? I didn¡¯t count,¡± I said. ¡°Is there a cleared landing space nearby?¡± I shook my head. ¡°No. Roads are quiet, but they¡¯re a mess.¡± I could hear the familiar thump that my railguns made from nearby. My cat mechs were working hard to keep any curious aliens down. That wouldn¡¯t last forever. The moment the wave shifted, or a bigger group passed by... ¡°Clear a space on the road for a transport,¡± he said. ¡°You have... about three minutes. Prep the civilians too. Laserjack out.¡± The line went dead. I stood there for a moment, then swore. ¡°Okay, fuck. Grasshopper! Your evac¡¯s coming in a bit. I need to make room for it. Can you help the civilians get to it once it touches down?¡± I asked. Grasshopper blinked a few times, then she rolled to her side and climbed to her feet. It didn¡¯t look easy, but she made it. ¡°I¡¯ll do my very best,¡± she said. I nodded, then hesitated. Front or back? The back was a mess, the front probably had a lot more aliens to deal with. But then the front would be easier for the civilians. ¡°Myalis, pull the cats back. Keep them close to Grasshopper. We don¡¯t need to secure the entire damned building, I don¡¯t think.¡± Understood. How do you intend to secure the street? ¡°With a lot of bombs,¡± I said as I crossed the offices on a straight path to the front of the building. ¡°How many access-ways are there on the street? I mean... there¡¯s both ends, plus how many alleys and how many compromised buildings?¡± One moment... I count thirty-two ways for an antithesis ground unit to reach the road within one hundred metres of this building¡¯s exit. ¡°I need thirty-two of those acid rain bombs. I want every passage in to cost the fuckers. As many resonators too. We¡¯ll enclose the area.¡± There was a model four at the entrance, prying the doors open with a pair of tentacles. It was strong enough that the glass door was starting to open. I pulled up my Bullcat and fired through the glass and into the alien. Then I stepped out onto the street. I may have been a little hasty, I realized as I took in the number of aliens running across. They noticed me at about the same time. My back-mounted guns snapped out of their housing and immediately started to fire. I expected them to fire single shots, but instead both of them purred, a constant wave of superheated air pouring out of them while aliens all across the street were ripped apart. Not to be outdone, I leaned into my shotgun, flicked it back to full-auto, then swept across the horde, raining buckshot into every alien I could see. ¡°¡®Nades,¡± I said. Myalis caught on, and a large box appeared by my side. I kicked it open and the acid-rain grenades within zipped up into the air above. They darted over the alleys and to the end of the road a moment before a glowing mist started to come down over those entrances. The immediate area around me was clear, so I dropped to a knee next to the box and started to pick out resonators from within it. I turned them on with a flick of my thumb, then tossed them out across the road. My throwing aim wasn¡¯t perfect, but the fun thing with explosives was that accuracy was optional. ¡°We¡¯re going to need something for the air,¡± I said. Turrets? A bit uncreative, but they kinda worked. I had a lot of points to work with though, and it would feel kind of lame to just face a few cheap-o laser arrays on the edge of the street plucking the smaller alien birds out of the air. ¡°Myalis, got any ideas for keeping the skies safe?¡± I asked. ¡°Not something dinky.¡± I imagine you need a solution that doesn¡¯t require your direct attention? In that case, how about a Flak Cat Cannon? *** Chapter Fifty - Emoscythe Chapter Fifty - Emoscythe ¡°Things have gone to shit, as expected, but New Montreal¡¯s not doing too bad. The Corporate State of Ontario¡¯s fucked. Quebec city has started full on drafting, and Manitoba is... actually, nothing¡¯s changed there. It¡¯s still a hellscape.¡± --Real Canadian News, 2057 live broadcast *** When Myalis suggested a Flak Cat Cannon, I had a mental image of what would appear when I bought it. That mental image was all wrong. The Flak Cat Cannon was a biggish device, maybe the size of my hoverbike, with a large base that had four legs and a barrel that stretched out above it. It looked pretty normal. Sleek and futuristic, but normal. The CAT R Cool decals on the side were a given, of course. What really threw me off were the three mecha cats that came with the cannon. They were wearing little camo army helmets (I realized that the camo was just cat silhouettes in different shades of green that overlapped each other) and hi-vis vests. The cats climbed onto the cannon and started to man it right away. Two of them worked the controls while a third fit a shell into the gun¡¯s breech. ¡°Myalis, is this some sort of joke?¡± I asked. I find it funny. ¡°You¡¯re the worst,¡± I said. The cannon is entirely functional. I even managed to reduce the price so that it packs more of a punch than it should for its point-cost. And the mechanised cats operating it can defend themselves as well, giving it some much needed point-defence. I was going to argue some more when the cannon fired. Some of the nearest windows burst apart, glass raining down from on high as a ball of grey dust appeared a hundred metres above. A few seconds later the tinkle of glass was joined by metallic clinks as shrapnel tumbled out of the sky along with some antithesis chunks. The cats scrambled to move the gun around a few degrees and it fired a second time, the shell exploding in the middle of a flock of aliens which were shredded apart by the expanding cloud of shrapnel. ¡°Well, at least it¡¯s working,¡± I said. With the acid grenades and resonators occupying every entrance into this stretch of road, the only aliens making it close looked like shit. Their skin was burned and their bones half melted. It only took a few railgun rounds pumped through them to take them down for good. ¡°ETA on that transport?¡± I asked. One minute, twelve seconds. It¡¯s a Vanguard¡¯s vessel. You won¡¯t have to worry about the safety of the passengers, not against lower-tier threats. That was a relief. I pulled up the regional map and scanned it while I waited. The wave wasn¡¯t broken. Far from it. It looked like it had met a few pockets of resistance here and there and had flowed around those. On meeting the main defences where the wall was meant to be, the horde couldn¡¯t continue. So instead it was spreading out and back, a few small tendrils sneaking back into the city. Those would be trouble. They¡¯d probably start looking for survivors and those too slow to evacuate, or they¡¯d set up hives right on the edge of New Montreal. We didn¡¯t need aliens growing right on our doorstep. I searched for the pin that marked Gomorrah¡¯s position and found it somewhere to the north of me, closer in towards the wall. The area around her was orange and green, with fewer aliens around. The area I was in was mostly orange too. I zoomed back out, then took in the city as a whole. The blockage bridging the gap in the wall kept New Montreal safe. The other side of it was entirely green. Orange and red tendrils reached out to that border, but it looked as though they were holding firm. The city beyond the wall was a mess of oranges with an equal number of green swatches and red ones. ¡°Is it just me or are they moving slower?¡± I asked. It¡¯s likely that the antithesis, or at least those capable of thinking that well, have realized that they don¡¯t have the strength to reach what they consider to be the biggest threat. ¡°That¡¯s good, right?¡± They¡¯ll likely either regroup for a more concerted effort against their threat, or root themselves down and try to outproduce the threat. In all likelihood, the antithesis will try to do both. I swore under my breath, then refocused on the task at hand. I couldn¡¯t save everyone, or do that much about the larger situation. So I¡¯d do what I could then and there, and let someone smarter than me worry about the bigger picture. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. A noise from above had my ears perking up, and I half-turned as a shadow slid overhead and spun around. A hovercar, a big one. The hovercraft spun around as it lowered itself towards the road, so I got a good look at it. It was stubby and square, painted in all-black with silver highlights over the many skulls and spikes that decorated it. Landing gear hissed out of the bottom of the craft, even as a few turrets mounted on the ends of its stubby wings turned and blasted a few of the aliens still on the street. The ship landed with a heavy thump, engines still humming. A door on the side slid open and a figure stepped out, even if they were still a metre off the ground. Black skirts shifted around the armoured form of a thin girl with pale skin. She blinked and glanced around, her braided twintails slipping off her shoulders as she took in the street. Then her attention locked onto my flak cannon and she just stared, confused, as the cats loaded a new shell. ¡°Emoscythe,¡± I said. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be the one to show up,¡± I said. She turned and looked right at me. I wasn¡¯t sure what she was thinking. ¡°It¡¯s Emoscythe Mordeath Noir,¡± she said. Ah. I was thinking that she¡¯d be a stuck up pain in the ass. I grinned. ¡°Sure thing,¡± I said. ¡°Is there enough room in there for about twenty or so scared civilians?¡± She nodded. ¡°There¡¯s room. I was told that Grasshopper was hurt?¡± I detected some actual concern there. ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s injured. Alive and stable, but I¡¯d rather see her on a bed than on the front lines right now. She needs a doctor or two. You know her?¡± ¡°Most people don¡¯t deserve the gift they¡¯ve been given,¡± she drolled. ¡°Grasshopper... might not be one of those people. Even if she¡¯s bizarre.¡± She had enough makeup on to black out every window on a skyscraper, I wasn¡¯t sure if she could start casting stones about people¡¯s bizarreness. ¡°I¡¯ll get Grasshopper and the civvies out,¡± I said. ¡°Can your ship keep the road cleared?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll manage,¡± she said. She reached back to the ship even as a staircase unfolded itself from the side, leading to the doorway she¡¯d jumped out of. Emoscythe grabbed a pair of long black sticks that I guessed were some sort of weapon. Good enough. I wasn¡¯t sure how much of her outfit was armour, but I imagined that if she could afford a ship that big she could kill a few aliens. I ran in and met one of my cat mechs just inside, sitting in the middle of the floor with its tail twitching impatiently. ¡°How are the civilians?¡± I asked. No major changes. I nodded along and continued past the cat guarding the passage. I found Grasshopper with the civilians, patting one of them on the shoulder even as she continued to look like death warmed over. ¡°Transport¡¯s here,¡± I said. ¡°With Emoscythe along for the ride too.¡± ¡°Emoscythe Mordeath Noir is nice,¡± Grasshopper said. ¡°I¡¯ll be happy to see her. She¡¯s a very kind young woman with a bit of a prickly exterior. Just like you, Cat.¡± ¡°Yeah, no,¡± I said. She smiled at me, but I wasn¡¯t going to deal with that. Grasshopper hobbled forwards for a step before one of the civilians stepped up next to her and swung her arm over his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll make more friends, Cat,¡± Grasshopper said. ¡°It¡¯s important to make friends while you¡¯re still young and have a reason to spend time with your peers. It¡¯ll become increasingly difficult to do as you age.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a kindergardener,¡± I said. We exited the front of the building, the mecha cats forming a cordon around the civilians in case some clever alien tried to grab one from behind. Emoscythe was waiting by her ship when we came out, those bars she¡¯d picked up earlier had turned into a pair of mini-scythes which she held by her side. ¡°Emoscythe Mordeath Noir!¡± Grasshopper said. She took her arm back and stumbled towards the smaller goth. The girl stood still as Grasshopper approached, but the older woman didn¡¯t hug her or anything. ¡°I¡¯m glad you came. I think you¡¯ll make a great friend with Stray Cat here.¡± ¡°Ah, right,¡± Emoscythe said. ¡°Just get in the hovertank, you look like you need some rest.¡± ¡°Rest is important, yes,¡± Grasshopper agreed. It was only after the civilians and Grasshopper were done loading up and the ship took off that I realized that Emoscythe was staying on the ground with me. *** Ai-pocrypha Two - AI Written Chapter Segments Sections in BOLD were written by yours truly. Everything else was written by GPT-3. The methodology here is simple. I fed the AI a starting line or paragraph, then let it run. Every time it completed a section, I¡¯d refed it the previous paragraph. Basically, the AI never knew what it was writing about past one or two paragraphs from where it was. A very hard memory restriction.

I blinked at Lucy and she stared right back at me. "Really?" I asked. "Yes, she said. "I think it''s a great idea." She placed her hands over her heart. "I''m touched." "Uh-huh," I said as I pushed back my chair. Lucy followed me out of the kitchen, but not before she grabbed a plate for herself and filled it with leftovers. The living room was empty by the time we got there and the holographic Tommo was nowhere to be found. Then again, Myalis could probably remotely run her off if she wanted to. Those two had been getting on really well recently, everyone else aside from maybe me experiencing something of a falling-out on top of all that mess they''d caused at first. Still, in self-defence I slid closer to Lucy and we both put our heads on the pillows. "Happy?" I asked after a moment. "You are," Lucy said as she finally turned to face me. The firelight was casting a red glow over her skin, lighting it up just enough that I could see every curve and dip of her body while making her eyes glow an eerie gold-blue. It was... really really sexy. Smiling at me with these soft lips, so flushed and right above the one place I wanted most to kiss them. "I''m happy because you''re here." It took everything in me not to reach across, grab her face and give her what she wanted. "Lucy, do you know how hot you look?" She squirmed closer. "You''re not looking at the right parts of me," she said. I raised an eyebrow but kept my cool for now. "Can you turn on the music?" I asked. The door opened, and a gentle wave of music pushed back through, sounding like a much more reasonable version of what Lucy was listening to before. I recognized it as some kind of experimental jazz or something else complicated. Not my sort of thing, but it did help fill the silence. Lucy seemed to like it too. She hummed along as she made my armour jiggle around a bit, then her fingers started dancing along their own accord over my side, pressing in just hard enough so that she was pushing me back into the bedding. It was sweet, a nice little tease. Something I had plenty of time to enjoy because I wasn''t going anywhere anytime soon. Times like this made me wish I could still drink. It felt like a nice night for something to celebrate.

And I''m going to stop that run there. I let it continue for a while, but it was getting pretty... steamy? Also, Lucy got replaced by Gomorrah at some point. It got weird. Here¡¯s a second attempt. This time trying to get the AI to write something more slice of life-y.

Gomorrah, Deus Ex and I were sitting in the hotel bar, nursing drinks (nonalcoholic for my two boring friends) while walking about all the perks and bonuses that came with being a Samurai. They were... odd. Some of them made sense, some seemed to have been thrown in just to confuse us, and a few had the touch of a very off techy brain to them. How was I supposed to know that my point totals, which went up and down extremely regularly, had something to do with the local weather? "The sun will be out tomorrow," Deus Ex said as we walked back into our rooms as a group. It was starting to get late, and some of the other guests were sneaking off to find a room. "There''s one more perk that you need though." "Another one?" I asked. She nodded. "One more," she said and then locked herself in her room. I shot Myalis a glance. "You heard that?" It''s one of the perks? A nice room near the hotel with appropriate clothes, then a massage and shower before she expects her partner to finish things properly. I blinked. "Yeah, she''s kinkier than I thought she was." It shouldn''t have come as a surprise to know that Lucy had a few things up her sleeve, but it was still weird to think of the whiskered young woman that way. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! *Ahem* this coming from someone who talks about his girlfriend constantly in terms of her sexual prowess? Besides, you''ve never been vanilla either. You''re part flesh and blood after all.

Cutting this one off because the AI doesn¡¯t seem to know that Deus Ex is underaged. I... didn¡¯t foresee this ever being a problem. Of course the AI will write inappropriate stuff. It doesn¡¯t know better. Why did I think otherwise? One more!

I swore as the nearest wall blew up and a model five barged into the room. Without a second though, I raised my gun and fired point-blank at it. The air rippled as five rockets left my gun and tore into the model five. The front of its chest exploded outwards, sending it backwards into the wall, only for a second volley to blow up its arm and swallow it in another rain of shrapnel. The Model Five was no more. "Better see where those other three are," I said as I shifted over to the side door while dropping my rocket launcher. My railgun could get away with blowing up shit around me, but that would also mean raining some shrapnel all over Gomorrah. I didn''t need more holes in me right now. In the end, it turned out to be sort of easy to find the Model Twelve hiding below. A bit of grenade jumping later and there she was, her head at floor level, unaware that I was in a perfect position to blow it off. "Time to send you to hell," I said as I put my railgun up. So far this encounter had taken about two minutes. Was it really so easy? But wait! The end of the world wasn''t right! Good Lord, it was so good to see that Myalis hadn''t lost any of her humanity while hiding in my gear storage. This made the many times where she tried to murder me just a bit more tolerable. The traction creatures didn''t have time to react. I focused in and fired, the railgun slamming my shoulder and sending a burst of fire right into their group. They exploded, and more models behind them were caught in the sweep of flame as they all died. Explosives one after another started popping up onto the walls, each dropped by a drone that flew off almost as soon I heard the hiss of its package deploying. Gravity grenades tumbled down, their extra weight making them fall slower than normal while little parachutes popped open above them and slowed them the rest of the way down to the ground where they burst apart like over-sized water balloons filled with sewage-coloured liquid. Their payloads splashed all over, roiling and bubbling across the floor. I stepped out onto the ledge. I would have started planting mines next to but mercs were pouring out of the building, too many of them for me to be getting comfortable yet. If only the idiot behind them didn''t decide that it was a great time to toss a grenade down into their midst. Now instead of being caught in two cross-shaped burst, they were soon going to be all mashed up together as they tried to huddle through the burning rain falling over them.

So, fight choreography is... complicated. I usually need to draw up maps and plans of motion for every fight that I write. The more players there are in a scene, the more complex it is to decide who does when when, and how that impacts the others. After all, a story is told one sentence at a time, which means that I can only really show one action happening after the other. It¡¯s a rather tricky part of writing. The AI... isn¡¯t perfect at it. But! It¡¯s not terrible. There¡¯s a lot of room to improve here, I think, but there¡¯s potential, which is terrifying. I think that¡¯ll be the last AI-written chapter for a while. It was fun to play around with, but I don¡¯t want to bother people too much with something that--while I find it super interesting--might not be fun for my average reader. Thanks for reading! Actually... wait, one last AI-prompt:

Thanks for reading! Click here to check out the next Combat Kittens! If you like what I do, then please consider dropping some stuff in the tip jar. A one-time donation is fine; just be sure to make it a decent amount if you can. The more these projects make, the longer we can keep writing them, and that''s what everyone wants! Chapter Fifty-One - Gothic Public Relations Chapter Fifty-One - Gothic Public Relations ¡°It¡¯s all about the memes.¡± --Emoscythe Mordeath Noir, Seventh-Annual PR Specialist Conference, 2049 *** ¡°So what¡¯re you doing here?¡± I asked. Emoscythe stared at me. For some reason her lack of armour was bothering me. I mean, she was her own girl, and if that big ship was anything to go by, she could afford some pretty nice shit if she wanted to. I couldn¡¯t even toss that many stones from my glass house, I had been reluctant to get armour for myself for a while. I¡¯d learned better since, especially after my gear had likely saved my ass a few times. ¡°I¡¯m here to kill aliens,¡± Emosycthe said. ¡°And to keep an eye on you.¡± ¡°Me?¡± I asked. She nodded. ¡°I have access to the records. You¡¯re the third newest samurai in the city. The newest who didn¡¯t become a Vanguard in the last forty-eight hours.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°But I think I¡¯m doing okay for myself.¡± ¡°You think that?¡± she asked. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. She looked me up and down. ¡°I suppose it could be worse.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± I said flatly. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t mind keeping someone company, but I don¡¯t do babysitting and I don¡¯t need to be babysat. I¡¯m guessing you can pull your weight, if you¡¯re acting so self-confident.¡± Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. ¡°I can handle myself, Stray Cat.¡± ¡°You sure do have a stick,¡± I said with a gesture to the staff she held next to her. Emoscythe¡¯s thumb ran along the shaft. ¡°It¡¯s my preferred weapon. Maybe you¡¯ll get to see it in use. But... that can wait. What are your objectives now?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said honestly. ¡°I got side-tracked when I heard that Grasshopper needed help. Wasn¡¯t doing much before that. Well, that¡¯s not true. I was setting up chokepoints and ambushes to take out as many aliens as possible before they reached the front.¡± She nodded. ¡°Invisibility and explosives. I remember. You have both of those and the cat gimmick going on. You¡¯re spreading yourself a little thin, I think, but you¡¯re new enough that some experimentation¡¯s normal.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah, sure,¡± I said. ¡°Anyway, the building I was in collapsed and I got pinned at the bottom. Had to get a new arm.¡± I wiggled my hand around. I was expecting some sort of reaction from that. What I¡¯d just described had been kind of metal, but Emoscythe didn¡¯t seem either surprised or impressed. ¡°We should probably head back to the wall. We can plug any gaps in the formation there, and it¡¯s possible that they need the assistance we could provide. Two samurai not assisting is a huge loss in firepower.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a bit more... no-nonsense than I was expecting,¡± I said. She stared at me. She had a good stare going on, what with the eyeliner. ¡°I¡¯m a goth, not an idiot. Sure, I accept and understand that every action I take, no matter how hard I work, will likely amount to very little in the end, but I¡¯m not a coward. I¡¯ll fight against the void until the very end.¡± That would have sounded a lot cooler if it wasn¡¯t delivered in a monotone. ¡°Okay then,¡± I said. ¡°Front lines?¡± I asked. She nodded. ¡°Front lines.We can discuss personal style and how one''s attitude and appearance play a role in shaping others perception of you.¡± I raised a hand in a ¡®wait a moment¡¯ sort of gesture. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Would you rather talk about something else?¡± Emoscythe asked. ¡°You have my attention, might as well use it.¡± ¡°I got that part, but why would I... how do I politely say that I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re on about without sounding like an ass?¡± ¡°Grasshopper didn¡¯t explain,¡± Emoscythe said. She looked away from me and took a deep breath. ¡°I should have known. Yes, that¡¯s very much like her. Grasshopper¡¯s a good woman, but her communication skills sometimes... well, it doesn¡¯t matter I suppose.¡± She bowed in my direction. ¡°I¡¯m Emoscythe Mordeath Noir. I cut things.¡± ¡°Yeah, uh, Stray Cat. I... blow shit up and kiss cute girls. Pleased to meetcha.¡± Emoscythe rolled her eyes. ¡°Your introduction could use some work.¡± ¡°Yours was fantastic. Never expected the bowing. Ten outta ten.¡± She didn¡¯t seem amused. ¡°At least the sarcasm fits your cat persona.¡± My what? ¡°My job, more often than not, is to help new samurai find their place. Not so much in combat but within society. To make them recognizable, so that when they inevitably die we have something to remember them by.¡± ¡°Wait, you¡¯re a samurai PR person? Who¡¯s also a goth?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I said. I thought about it for a moment, then decided not to anymore. ¡°Can you at least fight?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Obviously. I¡¯m a samurai. We can talk while we move.¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t agreed to getting my image or whatever poked at,¡± I pointed out. She shrugged. ¡°Consultations are free and compulsory.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have the strength to stop me,¡± she said. ¡°Not that I¡¯d push to that extent. I¡¯m depressive, not a bitch.¡± I chuckled. ¡°Alright, fine. If it¡¯ll make you happy. Can you fly at all? I don¡¯t plan on staying on ground level for any longer than I need to.¡± Emoscythe looked up the nearest building. Seven, maybe eight floors of concrete and glass. ¡°I can¡¯t fly, but I can make it up there with no problem,¡± she said. With a flick, she spun her long staff, and it somehow split apart into two shorter sticks. She stopped their spinning motion, then tightened her grip on their handles. The ends of the sticks unfolded and a pair of foot-long blades snicked out at ninety-degrees from the handles. ¡°Mini-scythes?¡± I asked. ¡°These are kama,¡± she said before she stepped right past me and up to the wall of the building. She tensed, then took off sprinting towards the wall before launching herself into the air. Emoscythe ran three steps vertically with heavy crunches as her knee-high boots dug into the concrete, then she stabbed into the wall with one of her kamas and pulled herself up to the ledge a floor above. I watched as she easily climbed up the vertical surface, using her mini-scythes as handholds whenever she needed one. There was no way her body wasn¡¯t modified. Especially not when her knees shifted and more blades slipped out from her legs to turn her climb into a skitter. ¡°She¡¯s pretty fucking weird,¡± I muttered. Her record as a Vanguard is impressive. Several years of constant effort, though it seems that she has discovered what she wanted to accomplish and has turned her focus onto that rather than improving overall or becoming more powerful. ¡°Is that a bad thing?¡± I asked. No. A Vanguard is free to choose how they will develop. If they find a level where they are comfortable, there¡¯s nothing stopping them from staying there. I jumped up and fired my jetpack thrusters, propelling me into the air and past Emoscythe just as she reached the top of the building and rolled onto her feet on the rooftop. I landed next to her and glanced around for any trouble that might be waiting for us. ¡°Straight to the wall?¡± I asked. ¡°We don¡¯t need to rush back. Not if a detour might mean more dead xenos or living civilians.¡± Emoscythe pointed towards New Montreal proper, the city acting as a landmark that was impossible to miss. I glanced at the map again. We weren¡¯t too far from a few spots that were darker orange. A few blocks at most. ¡°Myalis, can you plot a course over the worse areas while heading back to the gap? I can drop some ordinance from above to thin out the worst of the wave while we pass.¡± ¡°Not a bad idea,¡± Emoscythe said. ¡°Artillery won¡¯t strike so close to the city and the wall. The tremors from it and the shrapnel from any big explosion could damage the parts of the city we¡¯re trying to safeguard.¡± Myalis drew a line across the map which zig-zagged a bit on its way back to the gap. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. ¡°You got a copy of that?¡± I asked Emoscythe. At her nod, I gestured ahead. ¡°Well then, let¡¯s go.¡± ¡°While we¡¯re going, we¡¯ll continue that talk about your image.¡± ¡°Really?¡± I asked. ¡°In the middle of a warzone?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t seem the type who sits on her laurels and has long discussions about style and public perceptions,¡± she said. She wasn¡¯t wrong, but it still felt like this wasn¡¯t the place for it. ¡°So, why the cat theme?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not the one who named herself Stray Cat,¡± I said. ¡°Longbow gave me that name.¡± ¡°Oh. I named him actually.¡± I paused. ¡°Wait, really?¡± ¡°That was several years ago,¡± she explained. ¡°How long have you been a samurai for?¡± I asked. ¡°Ten years in a few months,¡± she said. ¡°So, you seem to have really leaned into the theme. I¡¯ve seen some examples of your armours. It does seem to fit in with your stealth specialisation, which is handy. People think of cats as quiet, nocturnal hunters, so the association is easy to make there.¡± I had a hard time keeping up with what she was saying, mostly because I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about how long she¡¯d been a samurai for. That made her something of a veteran. Which also made her scary. And here she was, talking about cat memes while jogging next to me on a rooftop. *** Chapter Fifty-Two - Contact Chapter Fifty-Two - Contact ¡°The very first--or the one who was the first reported, at least--samurai, was forty-two year old Alfred Prickleback. He assisted in a local incursion when the governments of the world were still utterly confused as to what was occurring, and successfully repelled what we now know to be one of the weakest incursions on record. He handed himself in to the authorities afterwards, claiming to have suffered a psychotic break because he kept hearing voices in his head.¡± --Vanguards, a history, 2034 *** ¡°Contact,¡± Emoscythe drawled. Usually, when someone spotted a massive group of aliens they put a bit of oomph into their words, maybe a bit of excitement. Emoscythe said ¡°contact¡± with all of the enthusiasm that I¡¯d expect from a secretary saying ¡°next.¡± The street below was filled to the brim with aliens. Surprisingly though, they weren¡¯t charging around like mad dogs in a kibble factory. I moved closer to the edge of the roof, stealth systems on so that I¡¯d be just a little harder to notice. Emoscythe was still a few steps back, but I guessed she had some way of seeing over the edge. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of them,¡± I said. I squinted at the crowded street. Lots of model threes, some model ones resting here and there. The usual mix of fours and fives, because everyone needed tentacles and tanks in their lives. What concerned me more was what I couldn¡¯t see. The aliens were crowding around the opening to a parking garage. This wasn¡¯t so much a street as it was a cul-de-sac with access to a couple of parking spaces for land-bound vehicles. One of the buildings across from us was a twenty-floor parking space, for hovercars and normal cars. ¡°Why aren¡¯t they moving?¡± I asked. ¡°They¡¯re protecting something,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ll see this kind of behaviour sometimes, next to a hive.¡± ¡°You think they have a hive down there?¡± I asked. ¡°Right now? No, it¡¯s a little too early for that. I think we¡¯d have noticed a hive if it was here before this wave started up. The buildings around here are pretty tall, few street-facing stores, so not many cameras, and the road is narrow. I think this might be a spot where the antithesis are setting up a fresh hive.¡± ¡°Oh, great,¡± I said. ¡°So, bomb the entire street until there¡¯s nothing left but ashes, and then salt the earth behind us?¡± ¡°That¡¯s an option,¡± she said. ¡°I have the impression that there might be something else going on here. They¡¯re too docile for being so close to so much action. At the very least they should be scavenging for biomass.¡± I pulled back from the edge. ¡°Then what?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ll go down and check,¡± she said. ¡°We can continue talking after that.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not letting you go down there on your own,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯d be irresponsible.¡± She shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s fine either way. I mostly fight close to whatever I¡¯m killing. Can you do overwatch? Snipe them from afar?¡± ¡°I... can¡¯t, no,¡± I admitted. ¡°My aim¡¯s kind of trash.¡± ¡°You know, there are things you can do to fix that. Practice, for one. But there are brain mods and body mods to help with your accuracy.¡± She grabbed her two kama, the blades snapping back into the sticks, and pressed the bases of them together to form a longer stick. Something clicked within, and a three-foot-long blade snicked out of the end. It now looked like she had a sword with a really long handle. ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I really want more shit jammed into my head.¡± Emoscythe shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s fair. And entirely up to you. Your meatsack, your choice. But if you can¡¯t do something well, then I¡¯d suggest working hard to find a way around that. I imagine that¡¯s why you use bombs over bullets?¡± ¡°Bombs don¡¯t need to be aimed,¡± I said. She nodded. Then she walked off the side of the roof. I gasped and threw myself forwards to catch her, but she was long gone by the time my hand reached out and caught air. I saw her falling, arms out and legs together. Her clothes flapped in the wind in the three or so long seconds it took for her to reach the ground. Then she landed goth-boots first on the head of a model five. The big tanky alien exploded as both feet rammed its skull into the ground. Boots and ground proved tougher than skull, and bits of alien brain-goop poured out across the ground. The other aliens, of course, noticed. Emoscythe stepped forwards as if she hadn¡¯t just gone from terminal velocity to no velocity in a blink. One hand swiped to the side with her long-handled sword, a couple of model threes slumping back with bisected spines, while her other hand reached to the small of her back and pulled out an object that writhed and snapped, reconfiguring itself into a handgun. Or maybe it would have been more appropriate to call it a hand cannon, it was nearly as big as my Bullcat, but clearly meant to be held in one hand. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. The gun fired, and with that, Emoscythe was sent flying through the air by the recoil. I blinked. That didn¡¯t seem physically possible. No matter how little she weighed, there was no way a gunshot could send her flying. Emoscythe didn¡¯t seem to give a shit about my interpretation of physics. She just flipped through the air, sword reaching out to almost delicately separate the heads of a few aliens from their torsos. ¡°Well, shit,¡± I said. Emocythe fired again, a loud booming retort that echoed off the tight walls, and again, she flew off in another direction while the aliens in the direction of the blast were ripped apart. I shouldered my gun, then hopped off the rooftop. Halfway down, just as my stomach was considering relocating to my throat, my jump jets fired and my fall turned into a slightly gentler tumble. I landed with a heavy thump, asphalt cracking underfoot even as my armour absorbed the impact. A model three turned my way, obviously confused. I put the confusion out of its mind with some buckshot. ¡°Need help?¡± I asked. ¡°No. I¡¯m used to death,¡± Emoscythe said. She kicked a model five into the air, then while it was at the apex of its arc, she cut it in half with a swipe of her sword so fast even my cybernetic eye only caught a blur. I was a bit more conservative with my attacks, only hitting the aliens farthest from Emoscythe and letting my back-mounted guns do a lot of the work. I did summon a few resonators that I flicked around. They started melting up the dead left in Emoscythe¡¯s wake. I felt a little useless as Emoscythe chased down the last alien--an unlucky model four whose tentacles wiggled in a panic before she sliced each one apart with a quick, precise cut from her sword. ¡°We¡¯re done here,¡± Emoscythe said. She flicked her sword to the side and a spray of blood flew off it and coated the ground. Somehow, she was entirely spotless. ¡°I guess so,¡± I said. My ears twitched towards the opening to the underground parking lot. ¡°There¡¯s more down there.¡± Emoscythe glanced at the entrance. ¡°Do you want to look into it? We have the time to spare, and it might make everyone¡¯s lives easier later to have one fewer hive to deal with.¡± ¡°I could bring the building down on top of whatever¡¯s in there,¡± I said. ¡°Could be something valuable that¡¯s keeping the antithesis¡¯ attention. I¡¯m sorry, I like more precise attacks. Indiscriminate bombing makes me somewhat uncomfortable and goes against my style.¡± ¡°Nah, it¡¯s all good,¡± I said. ¡°Not everything¡¯s for everyone.¡± She nodded. ¡°So, have you considered implementing your stylistic choice with your weaponry? It wouldn¡¯t be difficult to do for melee-type weaponry. Claws are a cat¡¯s natural weapon, and I imagine that fangs could be arranged.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah, I had claws. Never really used them though,¡± I said. She nodded. ¡°That¡¯s interesting. What about the sword?¡± I glanced at Void Terminus, hanging off my hip. ¡°What of it?¡± ¡°It has a cat charm, which is cute, but it¡¯s not really on-theme, is it?¡± ¡°Why does that matter?¡± I asked. ¡°Not like my bombs meow before going off.¡± She frowned. ¡°I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter in the short term. My goal is to ensure that every samurai leaves a legacy behind. It¡¯s much easier to do that when they have a clear image and style that they adhere to. It can be done for everyman-type samurai too, but then it becomes more about... public relations and great accomplishments. Not that you should avoid either one of those. You have the potential to do great things, I think.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± I deadpanned. She sniffed. ¡°Longbow¡¯s an example of a samurai with no clear gimmick. He¡¯s done well for himself, I think.¡± ¡°He one of your projects?¡± I asked. Emoscythe rolled her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t have projects. I have friends, and a subject I¡¯m passionate about. That¡¯s all.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re not going to force me to get fur-covered armour and go ¡®nya¡¯ whenever I speak?¡± ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°I advise and help where I can. I don¡¯t push things on people. Like I said, I¡¯m not a bitch.¡± I do like the idea of making you ¡®nya¡¯ though. *** Chapter Fifty-Three - Mop Up Chapter Fifty-Three - Mop Up ¡°No no, there¡¯s nothing to worry about, mister mayor. We have a dozen samurai guarding the city. I¡¯m certain we¡¯ll be able to prevail against any threat against New Montreal.¡± --Laserjack, to the mayor of New Montreal, 2057 *** ¡°Who goes in first?¡± I asked with a gesture to the parking garage entrance. It wasn¡¯t anything special. A cement ramp leading down to a hip-high barricade that could sink into the ground when someone paid the entrance fee. The lights were off inside, which wasn¡¯t surprising, none of the lights I could see outside were on. The area had either been cut off, or some of that earlier shelling had done a number on the power grid. There were probably hundreds of generators around, but who would install one in a glorified parking lot? ¡°I¡¯ll take point,¡± Emoscythe said. ¡°I¡¯m used to closer-range engagements than you are, I think.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said with a sweeping gesture to the hole. She nodded to me and stepped ahead. ¡°Myalis, get me a couple of cats. Maybe with spotlights or something. I¡¯m sure Emoscythe can see in the dark, but I like light more.¡± Understood. Emoscythe glanced over her shoulder as two cases thumped lightly onto the ground and a pair of cat mechs slid out from within. ¡°Drones?¡± she asked. ¡°Yeah. They¡¯re handy.¡± She nodded. ¡°They can be, yes. Don¡¯t rely on them overly much. They eventually become a point-sink when dealing with higher-tier adversaries.¡± ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± I asked. ¡°You risk spreading your points out too much. Ten ten-thousand point drones is impressive. But a single samurai with a hundred-thousand points worth of gear would be a lot more effective. And there¡¯s a point fall-off with drones. Not when you¡¯re right next to them, but when they¡¯re operating independently. They¡¯re like giving normal people weapons. You¡¯ll only receive a fraction of the points. Good for plugging holes in defences though, especially if you find a way to keep the drones on theme.¡± She reached down and patted one of the drones on the head. It was, in most respects, a normal cat mecha, but this one had really big eyes that glowed like headlights and the gun on its back had a light attached to the side of it which turned on with a thump and acted as though a very narrow sun had just risen in the room. I squinted at a sea of cars and aliens. Emoscythe and I paused near the base of the ramp and kind of just stared as more and more glowing eyes opened up in the shadows. The two lights from my drones scanned across the lot, making the many, many aliens they swept across flinch back. I loosened my shoulder, expecting a charge at any moment. Instead, the aliens started to shift and move around the edges of the room. ¡°They¡¯re going to try and pinch us in,¡± Emoscythe said. ¡°This isn¡¯t normal behaviour. There¡¯s something important to them here.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s take it from them,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re trampling on our shit, aren¡¯t they? It¡¯s only fair.¡± It was like an eye for an eye, but I was a vindictive bitch and I¡¯d be taking a lot more than that. ¡°Where do you think they¡¯re hiding whatever¡¯s so important here?¡± I asked. The floor trembled. It was a subtle thing. Just a slight rumble that I might not have noticed if I wasn¡¯t paying attention to it. If the place had power and the vents were on, then I probably would have missed it entirely. A few puddles of spilled oil, water, and soft drinks shivered as another thump made the floor shift. I prepared for trouble. Gun up, eyes searching the room for whatever was making that noise. It wasn¡¯t any of the antithesis looking at us. The biggest there were a few of the chunkier model fives hanging out in the back. Then I saw it. One of my cat mechs turned, its spotlight splashing onto a black wall. The wall moved, and I realized that it was flesh and fur. As the alien turned, I could make out some more details. It was partially hidden behind a delivery van, but the van wasn¡¯t nearly big enough to hide all of its bulk. The model turned, six legs bigger around than I was in all of my armour, working in tandem. Its face was... disconcertingly human-looking, with a fixed neck that kept the face tilted towards the ground. Two long mandibles came down from over its shoulders, big and sleek, but with a pair of three-fingered hands at the end and a joint in the middle so that they could flex. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The monster was holding onto a person¡¯s body in one hand. It brought it up to its mouth and chomped down with flat, cow-like teeth that nonetheless crunched through bones the same way I might chomp into a chicken nugget. ¡°What in the fuck is that?¡± I asked. ¡°Model twenty-two,¡± Emoscythe said. ¡°That explains why they¡¯re all acting as if there¡¯s a hive around. There is one.¡± ¡°That thing¡¯s a hive?¡± I asked, taking in the obvious implication. She nodded. ¡°Mobile hive. Slower to make fresh aliens than a normal hive, of course, and it can¡¯t make anything too large, but it¡¯ll be trouble nonetheless. I¡¯m certain there¡¯s plenty of biomass around here to keep that thing going. And it could supply a new hive with worker drones and pre-processed biomass.¡± ¡°So we kill it,¡± I said. ¡°Obviously, we¡¯re here, aren¡¯t we? I¡¯ll report this to the Family though. That thing wasn¡¯t made here. It snuck in and I can¡¯t see any reports of any models in the twenties spotted in the current wave.¡± Some disturbing possibilities there, but I liked the solution to all of our problems. ¡°Do I bring the whole building down on it, or do I just burn it out?¡± I asked. ¡°Let¡¯s not crush ourselves,¡± Emoscythe said. She flicked her sword around in a tight circle. ¡°I¡¯ll take out the model twenty-two, can you cover me?¡± She didn¡¯t wait for a reply before she started moving in towards the big alien. That was like the gunshot that set off the race for all the other xenos. They saw her approaching and rushed across the parking lot. I brought my Bullcat up and snapped a shot or two into the nearest, but that wasn¡¯t going to be enough. The mecha cats I¡¯d deployed opened fire as well even as they backed up towards me, headlight eyes focusing on the nearest of the aliens. ¡°Myalis, I need B.E.E.S.,¡± I said. ¡°A whole lot of them.¡± Myalis obliged, and a crate-full of B.E.E.S. grenades appeared next to me. I grabbed the first, flicked it on with the same hand, then flung it to the side while glowing microdrones poured out of the grenade and started to hum through the air. By the time I¡¯d deployed my sixth grenade the entire parking garage hummed with the incessant drone of a whole lot of very angry robots. I ran to catch up to Emoscythe who was slicing her way through any obstructions on her way to the model twenty-two. The big mobile hive stared placidly as she approached, still chewing on some unfortunate nobody. Then, when she got closer, it started to move. Emoscythe slipped to the side while pirouetting on one foot as one of the model twenty-two¡¯s legs struck out where she¡¯d been. Her sword casually flicked up, and the model twenty-two blinked dumbly as its foreleg crashed to the ground, gushing green blood. I picked a few resonators out of the air and tossed them around the room. Their high-pitched whine added to the chaos. I wasn¡¯t an expert, but I think the room¡¯s enclosed acoustics might have helped the grenades¡¯ range. A model three made it past the circling barrier of B.E.E.S. and leapt at my face. I grabbed it out of the air out of sheer reflex and was surprised that I wasn¡¯t bowed over by its weight shoving up against me. I held onto its head with my mechanical hand for a moment, before I squeezed my fingers shut. Brains splashed all over, as if I¡¯d crushed a fruit, and I made a mental note to be careful if Lucy ever tried to hug me while I was in this suit. Emoscythe danced under the big alien, sword slicing across its underbelly so that guts and innards spilled out of it. There were long strands in there, like a weird colon, but filled with what were unmistakably model threes the size of large chickens. Another leg was cut off, and the model twenty-two finally started to panic, legs kicking out and body spinning. It even threw its lunch at Emoscythe who ducked out of the way. And then she held her sword by her side, set her feet apart, and glared. A moment later her stance had changed and her sword was now on her other side, a long blur fading out of the air before her. The model twenty-two groaned as it split apart down the middle. Behind it, a few of the pillars holding up the parking garage crumbled. ¡°Let¡¯s mop this up,¡± she said. ¡°We should report this too, while we¡¯re at it.¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Four - Essentially Doomed Chapter Fifty-Four - Essentially Doomed ¡°The entire generation born after the year 2000 was made aware, from a very young age, that they were essentially doomed, and that no one was going to do anything about it. Climate change continued to be ignored, because fixing that would require too big a change. The government continued to print money to bail out corporations. Inflation jumped to an all-time high while interest plummeted. That generation saw a tightening of the cycle wherein the middle class got a little poorer and the rich got a little richer. So for a lot of them, the alien invasion was just a cherry on top.¡± --Extract from Memoirs of a Zoomer, 2047 *** I glanced around the parking garage, helped by the spotlights from the two mecha cats that were still lingering by the entrance. ¡°I can¡¯t see anything left alive down here,¡± I said. ¡°Except for us, I mean.¡± Emoscythe nodded, flipped her sword around, then slid it into a loop on her belt. Somehow that loop coated the sword in something that looked like a sheath. ¡°We¡¯re done here, I think,¡± she said. I asked Myalis for a few of those nano-machine grenades that ate antithesis flesh, and after activating them, I tossed the nades to the far ends of the room. The few resonators left were winding down and going quiet at last. ¡°That should make the area a little less hospitable for them.¡± ¡°But only here,¡± Emoscythe said. ¡°Ideally we¡¯d go floor-by-floor to ensure that there aren¡¯t any more xenos left, but I don¡¯t think that would be wise right now. Securing one building which is likely surrounded already isn¡¯t going to help anyone. We¡¯re going to have to push back the entire wave, then secure this part of the city building-by-building.¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to have to do that everywhere,¡± I said. ¡°The entire country side, every little shithole town, every cave and forest... we¡¯re kinda fucked, you know.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t sound depressed about it,¡± Emoscythe said. I shrugged, but I wasn¡¯t sure how well that gesture came across with my bigger armour on. ¡°My entire life I have been acutely aware of just how fucked I am. And I don¡¯t mean just the big-picture shit. I¡¯ve always had bigger, closer problems to worry about than climate change or the economy.¡± Emoscythe started towards the exit. ¡°You know, I¡¯m the one that¡¯s supposed to be all doom and gloom.¡± ¡°Hey now, there¡¯s enough gloom for everyone to share a bit of it.¡± We walked up the exit ramp and I raised my gun and fired point-blank into the side of a model three that was sniffing around. ¡°Back to the wall?¡± Emoscythe checked our surroundings, then started walking that way. ¡°Might as well. Something tells me the defenders are going to need all the help they can get.¡± ¡°Is that ¡®something¡¯ the presence of a model twenty-something? Because I¡¯m pretty sure we aren¡¯t supposed to see those for a while.¡± ¡°It¡¯s too early for them. And if a model twenty did show up, then we should have spotted it.¡± ¡°But we didn¡¯t,¡± I pointed out. Her eyes narrowed. ¡°We didn¡¯t. I can think of a few reasons why we might have missed one, and I don¡¯t like any of them.¡± ¡°Sabotage?¡± I asked. ¡°Possibly. Or carelessness. Let¡¯s not attribute malicious intent to what could simply be idiocy.¡± Emoscythe bent down into a runner¡¯s stance, then she took off in a sprint that would put the average doped-up super Olympian to shame. She hit the wall of a building, ran straight up for a bit before gravity took a hold of her, then she jumped off and flipped to the next building over. She ping-ponged her way up onto the rooftops while I watched. It was pretty impressive, the kind of shit I¡¯d expect to see in one of those exaggeratedly over-the-top Japanese games. I shook my head and jetted my way up to the rooftop. ¡°Myalis, can you have all the cats in the region head over to the blockade?¡± Certainly. Though a number of them have since been destroyed. That was unfortunate, but not too surprising. The city was still being shelled, there were loud explosions in the distance and as I looked back east and towards the outer edges, I could hardly make out the horizon from all the smoke climbing into the air from some two dozen or more fires. The other direction wasn¡¯t so dire. The wall had continued to expand even as the wave approached. I counted two more segments on the nearest section. Those were maybe ten metres wide, quite a bit taller, though not much. The gap in the wall was still massive, but there were people there. ¡°Let¡¯s move out,¡± Emoscythe said. ¡°I think the Family¡¯s about to ask that everyone out here head back to the barricade.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°So there¡¯s no point in being out here?¡± ¡°It¡¯s more likely that we can do more good over there,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re force multipliers. Out here, we¡¯re only multiplying ourselves. Over there, where the wave needs to break, that¡¯s where we can be the most useful. If that barrier doesn¡¯t hold we¡¯ll have aliens inside of New Montreal. It¡¯ll be hard to defend the city while hives are growing inside of it.¡± I swallowed. I had plenty of reasons not to want the alien fucks inside of my home. We ran across the rooftops on our way to the gap. Every so often I¡¯d glance down to the street. There were even odds of there being nothing at all or an entire mass of aliens down there. I dropped some acid bombs as a gift to any alien we crossed. There was a massive split between the outer city and New Montreal. An entire area, maybe a hundred metres wide, where every building had been demolished. I didn¡¯t know who was going to shoulder the cost for that. The heaps of crushed concrete, rebar and furniture was pushed back, some of it filling in the holes where basements would have been, but the rest of the debris had been built into a wall. Past that was a second temporary wall, or rather, a dozen of them pressed up against each other. Sandbags in one spot, large metal barricades a few metres down, then further off, movable cement barriers. The reason for the mish-mash of different styles was pretty obvious. Behind those walls were the people responsible for taking care of them. I counted seven PMC groups, and what might have been an all-volunteer group of militia. The gear was wildly different. One group had exo-suits and heavy machine guns. They had tanks parked behind purpose-built barriers with forward facing spikes. Next to them, civilians with cheap headphones and rifles were shoring up a wall of sandbags. It was a fucking mess. I took note of the heaps of dead aliens around the first wall of debris. It was an effective mess¡ maybe. Emoscythe took a running jump off the top of the building we were on and rolled to a landing below. I respected gravity a bit more and took my time descending with my jump jets, landing with a crunch a few steps behind her. ¡°You think the Family will be telling us where to deploy?¡± I asked. ¡°Likely,¡± she said. ¡°It won¡¯t be hard to see which area needs the most assistance regardless.¡± That made an uncomfortable amount of sense. I noticed a lot of guns from a lot of groups turning our way, but most were clever enough to aim elsewhere as soon as they noticed that we were human. It wouldn''t be hard to guess that we were samurai, I imagined. Emoscythe looked like a pretty plain tech-goth kind of girl. The sort of person that had no business walking out of a section of city entirely overrun by aliens without so much as a blemish on her black lipstick, and I was wearing power armour with cat ears. We ran across the no-man¡¯s land, around the corpses of the few aliens who had made it deeper in and over craters left behind in the dirt and mud. Someone had been using explosives all across the area. I couldn¡¯t really blame them either. Emoscythe jumped over one of the cement barriers, then slowed to a stop on the other side. I climbed over it with a bit less grace. Almost as soon as she stopped, a man in full combat dress ran up to us. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± he said with a sharp salute. ¡°Glad to see you here. We could really use the help.¡± ¡°How bad is it?¡± I asked. He turned towards me and snapped the same crisp salute. I didn¡¯t know which PMC he was part of, the symbol on his chest read Bear but I wasn¡¯t sure if that was the company or his group. ¡°Things have been positive so far, ma¡¯am. We pushed back the last wave, but they broke through in four places. We had to relocate some of the rear lines to prevent the breach from going in too deep.¡± I looked past him and to the rear line he was talking about. The front had barricades of one sort or another, with the few odd tank or machine gun emplacements here and there. Then there was the space where the wall would be. Workers were pouring cement and machines were digging out holes even as we spoke. Past that was a second line of barricades. That one had a lot more armour. Tanks, properly big ones, with temporary towers that had gun emplacements on them. A few AA trucks were parked here and there, guns aiming skywards. ¡°You getting paid more to be up here?¡± I asked. ¡°Combat pay and a half,¡± he said. ¡°Right.¡± Well, I wasn¡¯t going to get paid like that, so I might as well make the best of it. ¡°Tell me where the breaches happened. I¡¯ll try to shore up those spots.¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Five - The Calm Before Chapter Fifty-Five - The Calm Before ¡°Rural living has become a thing of the distant past, but you can recapture some of that essence today by joining one of Stabiloos Prime Trailer Parks! Find comfort and easy living next to like minded and like-classed people in one of our permanent temporary housing units!¡± --Stabiloos Housing Ad, 2034 *** ¡°I¡¯m going to split off for a moment,¡± Emoscythe said. She extended a hand my way for a shake. ¡°It was nice meeting you properly. If you ever need image help, give me a call. If you¡¯re looking for a reason to live, then maybe call someone else.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah, sure,¡± I said. I took her hand in mine and shook, careful not to squish her with my armour. My gauntlets basically eclipsed her hands in armoured steel and I worried I¡¯d hear a crunch. Nothing of the sort happened though. She was a more experienced samurai. Maybe her arms were all cybernetic. Or maybe she was a remote-controlled meat puppet the entire time. It was impossible to tell without asking, and asking felt like a faux-pas. It was like asking a girl if she was wearing a wig ¡°Keep an ear open for updates from the Family. Knowing Laserjack, he¡¯s going to want everyone in particular spots until the wall¡¯s entirely closed up. Your choice whether you listen or not,¡± Emoscythe said. She waved me goodbye, then headed out. A couple of PMCs jogged over to her and started trailing after her like dogs after someone with a bagful of treats. I watched her go for a moment before turning around and facing the suburbs the aliens were gleefully taking over. ¡°How long until the next wave?¡± I asked. It was meant for Myalis, but the Bear-PMC next to me took it to mean I was asking him. ¡°We predict that the next wave will be ready within the hour. We¡¯re expecting a much bigger one tonight.¡± ¡°Right, they¡¯ll have all day to replenish themselves, especially if we¡¯re here defending the city and not fucking over their hives.¡± I looked up and down the length of the defences. The edges were going to pinch in eventually. The crews working on the wall were laying down another section of it. Ten fewer metres of space that the aliens could easily cross. I imagined that they were doing the same on the far end. ¡°How quickly are they adding wall segments in?¡± I asked. ¡°About one every twenty to thirty minutes,¡± he said. ¡°They have to slow down whenever enough xenos approach the wall.¡± I nodded along. ¡°How long do we have left then? Assuming that no aliens bother us?¡± ¡°One point two kilometres left, ma¡¯am,¡± he said. ¡°Segments are ten metres each.¡± I cursed silently. More math. I worked it out though. Sixty hours if they only did one side. Half that if they came in from both sides. ¡°How¡¯s it going to take so damned long? We¡¯ve covered the rest of the city in a day and a half.¡± ¡°Ah, I think for the rest of the city they had a lot more than two crews working at once.¡± That made a heap of sense. I checked on the Family¡¯s map thing to see how things were going. The city map was predictably a red mess of alien sightings and confirmed locations. The pins for other samurai were all either behind the fortifications or moving back already. Gomorrah was about three hundred metres north of my position. I glanced up, but couldn¡¯t see her past the tanks and temporary towers and moving troops. I couldn¡¯t even use the smoke in the air to tell where she was, there was so much of it. I got a text the moment I closed the map. From Laserjack, of all people. LaserJack: To: all Samurai currently defending New Montreal - RE: city defence. We are assembling a defensive position within the gap on the eastern side of the city. For best results, please move to the following locations at your earliest convenience. See Attached. Jolly Monarch: Moving to position. Emoscythe Mordeath Noir: Very well. Gomorrah: Understood. Sam-o Ray: No problem, bro I paused for a moment, then with a roll of my eyes I sent my own reply. Stray Cat: I guess I opened the map again and noticed a few squarish sections added to the gap, each one had a samurai¡¯s name over it, and if I lingered my attention on any one of them, more information would pop up. Which PMC or militia group was located there, who to contact to get in touch with them. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I wasn¡¯t too far from where I was supposed to be. A bit further north. Maybe two hundred metres from the wall. Gomorrah was stationed to my north, and there was a small slice just below mine. It was maybe half the size of either mine or Gomorrah¡¯s chunks. Hovering over it didn¡¯t tell me much. New Samurai, Temp-Designation: Farm Boy. ¡°Alright,¡± I said to the PMC officer. ¡°I¡¯ve got a place to be. Keep safe.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am, glad to serve,¡± he said with another salute. I walked on past him, then looked at the path I¡¯d have to walk. It was filled with people moving back and forth, and a lot of vehicles and barricades. Sighing, I moved to the side and out past the barricades. No one was using the no-man¡¯s land to move around, so there wasn¡¯t anyone in my way. ¡°Are there mines around here?¡± I asked. There aren¡¯t any, no. The Family¡¯s policy is to avoid that kind of ordonance next to an actively defended area. The reasoning seems to be that other explosives might launch a mine over the barricade and towards the defenders. I chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s horrific. Bet the policy was only updated after some poor unlucky fuck got to meet his maker early.¡± It happened three times over the course of six years before the policy was changed. The report I¡¯m finding indicates that a remote-detonated claymore was launched from an area denial-zone and into the turret hatch of an anti-air vehicle, killing the entire crew. ¡°Well, fuck,¡± I said. I walked over to my spot of the gap, then continued on to the far end to get an idea of how big a spot they wanted me to cover. It wasn¡¯t a small gap. I had maybe fifty metres to cover. Three groups were gathered up, with barricades pushing up against the edge of the no-man¡¯s land. Two were unfamiliar mercenary groups, the third, in the middle of the other two, was a group of militia. The District Ninety-Two Gunners. They were stacking sandbags still, with a few guys plopped down behind a pair of big machine guns. Every one of the civilians was wearing leather jackets with cheap bullet-proof vests under. Half of them were ruining their mohawks with ear protection which clashed with all of the neon cyberware they had. Were they a militia or a street-gang that had mobilised? I decided that I didn¡¯t care. I planted a boot on the edge of a barricade, then pulled myself up and over. While I was up there, I glanced at the city where the aliens would be coming from. We had a bit of room between us and the wall of rubble. It wasn¡¯t piled so high that I couldn¡¯t see past it, standing as I was atop the barricade. Turning, I noted that both PMC outfits had set up some towers to get a better view. Dull green things that looked like those scaffolds construction workers set up next to homes sometimes, only with more armour plating on the upper half and a proper roof and mounts for guns. ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered. ¡°Myalis, I think we¡¯re going to mine the shit out of no-man¡¯s land. I¡¯m thinking stuff that won¡¯t be lethal if it flies back in our faces. Resonators are my go-to option here. Maybe we can get some of those acid bombs up in the air? Spray down anything that tries to run at us.¡± Did you want to place the mines yourself? I considered it. That would be time consuming. I could probably order some of the PMCs or militia-types to do it, but... ¡°No, too risky. Can I get a couple of cat mechas to do it?¡± Certainly. Adding that kind of mechanism to your drones is entirely possible. ¡°Right, let¡¯s do that then. I¡¯m sure you can figure out a good grid system for the mines. Maybe we can mix in a few others. I¡¯m thinking garrots right after the rubble wall over there. Turn any fucks that get past the wall into mince-meat the moment they¡¯re over. Some of those zero-kelvin bombs too, in case something big bursts past the wall.¡± Noted. Do you want me to preload the mine-layer drones with that kind of ordonance? ¡°Please and thank-you,¡± I said. Myalis summoned a trio of cat drones for me. They were a bit smaller than usual, with a back-mounted arm and backpacks that were clearly full of explosive goodies. The cats ran off into the no-man¡¯s land and as one, started digging with their front paws like giant kitties in a litter box. ¡°Right, I¡¯m going to go meet this unnamed samurai. Maybe say hi to Gomorrah before the fun starts. Don¡¯t need her burning my mines out by accident.¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Six - Wait for it Chapter Fifty-Six - Wait for it ¡°One of the more interesting facets of modern class stratification is a person¡¯s relationship with advertising. Low-brow advertising, designed to appeal to the poorer masses, is loud, brash, in-your-face, and not afraid of using gore and sex to draw attention to a product. High-brow advertising is quiet, discreet, and can often be missed entirely. The reason for this distinction is simple, and it has little to do with class and taste. The richer you become, the less advertising you will see. Ads will be swept away by subscriptions and expensive ad-blockers. Which means that any ads that don¡¯t want to offend those people unused to seeing any ad at all, must be discreet and careful enough to slip by those expensive filters.¡± --2031 Marketing Con, Streamed online conference, 2031 *** ¡°Yo,¡± I said, one hand rising lazily to wave. Gomorrah nodded. ¡°Hello,¡± she said. We were on two sides of a hip-high fence one of the PMC groups had put up between their section of the defences and another group¡¯s. It just so happened that the fence split off the section I was responsible for from Gomorrah¡¯s. ¡°New armour?¡± she asked. I nodded. ¡°Yeah, a building fell on me. New arm, new armour. You know how it is.¡± I couldn¡¯t see her face, but I could tell she was concerned. Something about the way she shifted just a little. ¡°Are you alright?¡± ¡°Oh, yeah, no, the arm I lost was my cybernetic one, so it didn¡¯t actually hurt. My flesh-arm¡¯s still there. At least for now. The new one can vibrate, so maybe Lucy will insist that I replace all of my limbs, you know?¡± Gomorrah sighed. ¡°If you¡¯re making crude jokes, then you can¡¯t be that badly hurt.¡± I grinned right back. ¡°What about you? Have fun burning the xenos?¡± She nodded once. ¡°Yes. Yes I did. I never really went all-out with a flamethrower in such a crowded city before. I... I didn¡¯t know how satisfying it would be to see entire blocks light up, with little aliens running out of the fire already near death. It was... beautiful, in a way. Purifying.¡± My grin became a little fixed, and I¡¯m pretty sure I noticed some of the PMCs who had been sticking around backing off. I¡¯d overheard some of them boasting between each other that they were lucky that they had the pyro nun on their side while the competition had to deal with me. I think they were reconsidering. ¡°So, how are we going to fry the fucks who come over here?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been deploying mines. Or those cat mechs over there have.¡± ¡°I think that as long as we put enough pressure on it, the wave will buckle around the points with more resistance and focus in on any spot where there¡¯s less,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I¡¯ll be out on the front, cooking anything that gets too close. You won¡¯t have to worry about this flank.¡± I nodded along, then glanced to the other side. Gomorrah was on my left, if I was facing the now-ruined city. Which left the unnamed samurai to my right. Their sliver was relatively thin, which probably meant that the Family didn¡¯t expect them to be able to take on a bigger burden. ¡°I¡¯ll go see the new kid, talk to them a little and find out what they can do.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not so old yourself,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, but then look at me in the eyes and tell me I can¡¯t handle myself.¡± She nodded. ¡°You can handle yourself,¡± she said. ¡°You watch my flank and I¡¯ll watch yours. Same as usual?¡± I nodded right back, then extended a fist to her. She stared at it for a moment before bumping hers against mine. ¡°You got it. By the way, want my cats to dig a few surprises ahead of your chunk of the wall?¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind, as long as whatever bomb you burry there won¡¯t impact my own abilities.¡± ¡°They shouldn¡¯t,¡± I said, thinking over what my mine-layer cats were setting down. ¡°If you feel like burning some aliens that get past the mines on my side, don¡¯t hold yourself back on my account. I¡¯ve got more points than I know what to do with right now.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Oh, by the way, how¡¯d the jetpacks work out?¡± I asked before I turned away. ¡°Fun. Very fun, actually. Terrible as a weapon. It¡¯s hard to aim at something below and behind you. But the additional mobility is a godsend.¡± ¡°Cool!¡± I said. ¡°See you in a bit, gonna bother the new kid.¡± This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. She nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll whip the PMCs on my side into shape. They don¡¯t seem overly keen on working together, and that¡¯s bothering me.¡± I crossed the area I was designated to defend. Walking across it on foot gave me a good idea of how much room I was dealing with, which was... more than I¡¯d like, actually. I figured I wasn¡¯t a terrible fighter. A shit shot, sure, but I could blow up xenos along with the best of them. That worked best when I had the drop on the aliens and when I could prepare the area before they arrived. This would be different in a way that I wasn¡¯t really suited to. I had a few ideas in mind though. ¡°Hey, Myalis, I was thinking. My gimmick is blowing shit up, but I think I¡¯m going to need to be in the thick of it this time. Do you think we could get some mortars going? Like that AA gun but for bombs?¡± Yes. Something of the sort could very easily be arranged. The two PMC companies and the District Ninety-Two Gunners were set up to deliver a lot of lead down-range. We had a few light tanks parked behind sandbag-walls and some trucks with big guns at the rear too for AA duty. I don¡¯t think we were lacking in forward and direct firepower. So maybe I could help to thin out the wave before it hit. I bet any artillery that Myalis set up would be far more accurate than the fuckwits that bombed the building I was in earlier. Mortars for the short-medium range just over the debris wall. We could even support other parts of the gap if they needed it. I reached the far right end of my section and hopped up and onto a cement barricade. A pair of PMCs on the other side jumped. They were some of the better equipped PMCs I¡¯d seen so far. Lots of fancy armour that covered everything, and high-tech guns that looked almost samurai-tier. ¡°Yo,¡± I said. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± one of the two replied with a quick salute. ¡°Can we help you?¡± ¡°Yeah, heard there was a new kid around here. I¡¯m guarding everything on this side of this wall here. Wanted to make sure my flank was safe, you know?¡± I lightly kicked the edge of the wall I was standing on. ¡°Thank you, ma¡¯am, we¡¯d appreciate the help,¡± he said. That was telling. ¡°Mister Davis is by the CO¡¯s tent,¡± the PMC said with a gesture towards the back. ¡°I can escort you.¡± ¡°I know how to walk on my own, but thanks,¡± I said. I jumped down, landing with a slight bend of my knees. After shutting off my helmet mic, I spoke to Myalis. ¡°What can you dig up on Davis?¡± It¡¯s considered a faux-pas to assist a Vanguard in spying on another. Though the line between basic information and spying is rather clear. Jimothy Davis is a twenty-two year old New Montreal native. Jimothy. Holy shit, did his momma not love him? I shook my head. ¡°Thanks. That actually helps a bit.¡± The CO¡¯s tent was less a tent and more a pre-fab building with tin walls and sandbags all around. The interior had a few desks with techs at them, and a pair of people that stood out like sore thumbs. One had to be the commander. A short, older woman who had more wrinkles on her face than shits to give. She eyed me, but didn¡¯t protest me coming in. Next to her was who I assumed to be Jimothy Davis, the new samurai kid (who was a few years older than me, but that didn¡¯t matter). Tall, bean-pole of a guy, with dirty jeans and a flannel button-up under a vest that looked bullet-proof. He had a cowboy hat on, one that was glowing with RGB, and of course the spurs on his boots glowed too. He had a rifle slung over a shoulder, but it didn¡¯t look like anything special. Just grandpa¡¯s pea-shooter. ¡°Yo,¡± I said while extending a hand to him. ¡°You¡¯re Temporary Designation Farm Boy?¡± Jimothy smiled ruefully and shook my hand. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s what they¡¯re callin¡¯ me?¡± he asked. ¡°Didn¡¯t think that¡¯d be my, ah, Samurai name, ya know? Sorry, I don¡¯t know yours.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Stray Cat,¡± I said. ¡°Just Cat between friends. As for the name, I think usually what happens is that one samurai will name another.¡± ¡°That means my name¡¯s now Temporary Designation Farm Boy?¡± he asked with a chuckle. I shook my head. ¡°We can think of something better than that, I¡¯m sure.¡± He adjusted his hat, raising it up to sweep his hair back before putting the hat back on. ¡°Yeah, I know Enyries, I¡¯m making nice.¡± I blinked. Did he just talk to his AI? Wow... so I did look crazy when I did it. ¡°So, want to talk shop before we get overrun by flesh-eating nasties?¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Seven - Before the Storm Chapter Fifty-Seven - Before the Storm ¡°Times change, weapons change, but the fundamentals don¡¯t. You have no idea how hard it is to armour someone up so that a piece of metal moving really fast can¡¯t kill them. In the eternal arms race between projectile and armour, the projectile has one hell of a lead. We keep that race going. This year we introduce civilian-grade class seven armour. Able to stop even a DMR round dead in its tracks. We also introduced a new 9.50mm AP round which can brush through class seven like it¡¯s tissue paper.¡± --Mestle Arms and Childcare Division head, 2039 *** ¡°You know, I¡¯d appreciate any advice you can give,¡± Jimothy said. He rubbed at his chin, where there was a bit of stubble. Not enough to be like... hot guy on a poster stubble. He looked more like someone that needed to shave. Then again, I wasn¡¯t really keen on facial hair. ¡°How long have you been a samurai for?¡± I asked. It couldn¡¯t be too long if he didn¡¯t have a name. Then again, Gomorrah had gone around without one for a bit. Jimothy shrugged. ¡°About... four hours now? Five? I don¡¯t know, the day¡¯s been pretty busy.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°Yup. Was back home, minding my own, when some monsters roamed over. I lived by Hitchen¡¯s Brooke, out to the east of here. Nice little community. Anyway, I thought we were right done for when the aliens started showing up in the morning.¡± ¡°You decided to stay there?¡± I asked. ¡°We were packing still. We decided to move as a big group. Smart thing to do, you know? More people means more protection, but also more chances of getting help if something goes wrong. But it also means that we were slow. Couple of retirees over there, you know? Not the fastest tool in the shed.¡± I wasn¡¯t sure if that was how the expression went, but I didn¡¯t have the credentials to second guess him. ¡°Yeah, fair. So you took a stand or something?¡± ¡°Mmmhm, with my great-grandpa¡¯s Mosin. Took out a few beasties. Then this nasty tentacle¡¯d fuck, pardon my French, showed up. Ate nearly every round I had. Grabbed me by the leg and I only got out of there because I gotta a knife in my pocket. It did let the others get to safety.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a brave one,¡± I said. He chuckled. ¡°Didn¡¯t you have to do the same?¡± ¡°Well, no, I only had to kill two of them.¡± ¡°Just two? You got off easy.¡± ¡°I only had one arm at the time, and a piece of pipe,¡± I defended. He grinned. ¡°Now that makes for a better story.¡± I patted him on the shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s not all about the story. Just getting the job done, keeping your folk safe.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know about that. This pretty samurai lady showed up a bit after. She... gosh, she was something else.¡± Jomothy was blushing a bit, which was... something alright. ¡°We got to talking. Well, she talked and I shut my trap and listened. She said that having a good and proper image is one of the most important things you can do as a samurai, to get recognized easily. She didn¡¯t wanna name me though.¡± I frowned. ¡°Wait, was that Emoscythe?¡± ¡°Miss Emoscythe Mordeath Noir, yes,¡± he said. The way he spoke her name made it sound like something fancier than it was. ¡°Right, yeah, she¡¯d say something like that. Anyway, my advice isn¡¯t about image, alright? Just shoot the enemy dead, then kill the next one. Keep yourself safe too, I guess. Maybe buy a helmet so that people don¡¯t think you¡¯re insane when you¡¯re talking to your AI.¡± ¡°Ah, that¡¯s a good idea, I guess,¡± he said. ¡°Don¡¯t know how I¡¯ll incorporate a helmet into my look though.¡± ¡°Life finds a way,¡± I said. ¡°Or your AI can, at any rate. If you want to play into the gimmick... I guess big guns and woodcraft stuff. Knowing how to track and find hives will be damned important in the next bit.¡± He nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve gone hunting before. I¡¯m a fair shot too.¡± We both paused as the ground shook. One of the nearby buildings decided to give up the ghost and collapsed. Fortunately there were a few buildings between it and us, so the dust cloud went up instead of out. ¡°We¡¯re going to need to get into position. So, you shoot things well?¡± ¡°I try,¡± he said. ¡°Might get a thing or two to help my aim.¡± That sounded like a waste of points to me. ¡°Get a bigger gun too,¡± I said, thinking of the rifle Grasshopper had. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°I¡¯m rather keen on keeping this one. Do you think that¡¯s alright?¡± I blinked. ¡°I guess? Maybe you can get your AI to modify it a bit? Adding sights doesn¡¯t make it a new gun, right?¡± ¡°I guess not.¡± ¡°And switching out a part or two can¡¯t hurt either. It can be one of those... ship of Theseus things. Besides, bullets are half the reason guns are good at killing things, right? The gun¡¯s only the delivery method. Try firing black hole grenades or something out of that thing.¡± Jimothy blink. ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought of that. Enyries is saying that it¡¯s a workable idea. Don¡¯t have many points yet though.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll earn plenty,¡± I said. I glanced towards the city. Something was happening. There was a distant rumble, and I noticed most of the PMCs around us starting to move with a bit more alacrity. Whatever break we had was over. ¡°Get to somewhere you can shoot from. And stay alive. You can¡¯t try to date the cute goth girl if you¡¯ve been eaten.¡± Jimothy grinned sheepishly. ¡°Sure thing. Maybe once we¡¯re done here you can give me advice on how to talk to girls, yeah?¡± He waved, then ran off to join some PMCs while gesturing to one of their lookout towers. Did... I not count as a cute girl? What, just because I was wearing a metric ton of armour? It had boob plates! Grumbling to myself, and deciding that I¡¯d commiserate with Lucy later--because she¡¯d think it was funny, if nothing else--I returned to the centre of the area I was meant to protect. ¡°Alright, Myalis, we need mortars. I¡¯m thinking six or so of them? In a rough line. We can load them up with something that goes boom in a big way. Oh, maybe some sort of frag rounds? Really punch holes into the bastards.¡± There are a multitude of flavours of fragmentation rounds. Though, seeing as how you¡¯ll likely want to avoid collateral, perhaps proximity-detonated macro-fragmentation shells? ¡°Sounds hot. And we have plenty of points to spend,¡± I said. More explosions sounded out, from behind and before the gap. I glanced back and spotted a few artillery barrages starting to open up. The arcs they were firing in were landing shells only a few hundred metres deeper into the outer city. How close was the wave? Six mortar systems, coming right up. Six light thumps sounded around me, and I jumped back as six boxes, as big as I was--armour and all--appeared next to me. Then twelve more thumps sounded and a gaggle of cat mechas unfolded themselves and ran around so that there were two per box. The cats grabbed onto little handles and lifted the boxes up, then started to move across the area. They¡¯ll set up the mortars. Each team has twenty rounds already, though you¡¯ll want to replenish those eventually. ¡°Can we auto-buy new rounds as they¡¯re depleted?¡± I asked. That is certainly an option. Do you wish to? ¡°As long as it doesn¡¯t break the bank.¡± The nearest cats opened up their case, which unfolded into hydraulic legs and a long tube with a case next to it and a bunch of measuring doo-dads and what I suspected were recoil-tubes to absorb any impact when they fired. These were less mortars and more small artillery pieces, I realised. A bunch of PMCs and militia-folk were staring as one of the cats opened the breach, loaded in a shell, then hopped onto two legs and started to turn a little adjustment wheel to point the barrel sky-wards. ¡°Nothing to see here, folks,¡± I said. ¡°Just some robotic cats about to do some weird shit.¡± That was mostly aimed at the one guy who was very clearly filming with the augmentation covering an eye. Cat, you might want to direct your attention to the Family¡¯s map. I frowned and did just that. There was a lot of red. More than even the initial wave had. ¡°What the fuck.¡± It seems as though this second attempt will be somewhat more numerous than the first. More diffused too. Expect to see an increase in higher-ranked Antithesis. ¡°Shit,¡± I said. Suddenly, I felt like maybe a few mines and some mortars wasn¡¯t going to be enough. I saw Gomorrah running to the front, and within a half-second, I was doing the same. We needed to break this wave, or else the streets of New Montreal, of my home, would be flooded with alien filth. Again. *** Chapter Fifty-Eight - Crackshot Cowboy Chapter Fifty-Eight - Crackshot Cowboy ¡°A silent movement began over the turn of the century. It fought back against the increasingly extreme nature of religious belief. The movement suffered from one glaring flaw though. It assumed that the religious cared about the tenets of their own religion when acting. Nothing could be further from the truth.¡± --Atheists Anonymous, 2029 *** ¡°You guys had better be ready,¡± I shouted. ¡°Shit¡¯s about to hit the fan!¡± Shit wasn¡¯t so much about to hit the fan as it was about to grab the fan, drag it into an alley, then beat it black and blue. Or something like that. I wasn¡¯t an expert on analogies and honestly, my mind was on other things. I moved up to the front of the line and looked out across the no-alien¡¯s-land between us and the incoming wave. It was a decently sized field, but it wasn¡¯t nearly as big as I would have wished. A model three could really scramble when they wanted to. It would take one... maybe ten seconds to cross the space at a dead sprint. Plenty of time for a single one to be gunned down, but what if there were hundreds of them. My grip tightened on my Bullcat. Behind me, the mortars clunked as shells were loaded into them. The militiamen and PMCs were breathing harder, as if they¡¯d already started running around even though nothing had happened yet. I heard leather creaking around handles and the clinking of loose ammo in boxes as they were repositioned for easier access. A few soldiers pulled their mags out and checked them before resetting. ¡°Safeties off!¡± someone called from behind me. The not-yet-a-battlefield became surprisingly silent. A ping from my augs almost made me jump out of my skin. ¡°Fuck,¡± I muttered as I checked who was calling. Gomorrah. ¡°Hey?¡± ¡°Cat. I was thinking we should keep in contact. This might not be easy,¡± she said. ¡°Alright, makes sense. Want to bring our local farm boy in on the call? He seems a nice enough sort. New though. Might be good to keep an eye out on him.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea,¡± Gomorrah agreed. I nodded. ¡°Myalis, think you can find his aug number? Or can you ping right off of his AI?¡± I think I can manage that much. One moment... and adding him to the call. ¡°Um, hello?¡± Jimothy¡¯s voice asked over the line. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°Jimothy, Gomorrah the pyromaniacal nun. Gomorrah, Jimothy the cowboy with a big rifle and a thing for cute girls with attitude.¡± ¡°Hello,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure. We¡¯re going to stay in contact with each other, in case we need assistance. I¡¯d love to speak some more, but I think our time is running short.¡± ¡°That¡¯s alright. Pleasure to meet you too, Miss Gomorrah. You just holler if there¡¯s anything at all I can do for you. Not that I suspect you¡¯ll be the one needing help here.¡± I grinned. It was nice when everyone was getting along so well. Maybe all the world needed to put aside their differences was the threat of impending and immediate doom. Not that that had worked well before. I was about to try and make some small-talk when I caught motion in the corner of my eye. Something was moving into the no-alien¡¯s-zone, but from our side. Something big. Way off on the other side of Gomorrah¡¯s section of the defences, a large machine thumped into the divide. It was taller than a semi-trailer from front to rear, and nearly as bulky. A huge four-legged machine made of white plates over a core of armoured steel. The machine stomped into the middle of the gap, then stood there, huge and imposing. My head whipped around as a second, this one black, moved into the gap further down. The horse¡¯s sides opened up and barrels poked out of the gaps. It was a mobile gun platform, of sorts. ¡°Is that one of Jolly Monarchs?¡± I asked. ¡°The map says so,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°They¡¯re his Rook drones.¡± ¡°Fucking hell,¡± I muttered. ¡°How much does one of those cost?¡± ¡°More than either of us can afford right now,¡± Gomorrah said. I shook my head. Maybe things weren¡¯t going to go that poorly after all. I heard a sharp intake of breath over the coms. ¡°I see one. Big, ugly bastard, coming in from above,¡± Jimothy says. I turned to the front and squinted into the sky. There¡¯s a big flock coming, but at the centre of it is one big motherfucker whose wingspan dwarfs all the others. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Got a shot?¡± I asked. ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± he says. A loud crack sounds. A faint grey blur is left painted across the air. It meets the head of what was probably a model eleven and splatters it. The huge flying alien flips through the air before crashing onto the roof of a distant building. ¡°Nice shot,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe we should name you the Crackshot Cowboy.¡± ¡°Crackshot Cowboy,¡± he repeats. ¡°Yeah, I like that. Going to need to live up to it, but I think I can manage that.¡± ¡°I think the time for chatter¡¯s just about over,¡± Gomorrah says. The dust of the incoming wave is growing closer. I can feel a faint rumble beneath my feet. The men and women around me, those that are so inclined, start to pray. It¡¯s a faint murmur in the background. These are the same people that repelled a wave earlier today, I imagine that the cowards have been weeded out already. Then, between one blink and the next, the wave crests over the wall of debris. I froze. Not for a long time, but for a moment I was almost entirely overwhelmed. There were so many of them. They came pouring over the edge like an angry tsunami of plant flesh and teeth and claws. Stones and cement were rammed aside as bigger aliens shoved their way over, the smaller aliens slipping around their legs and over their backs. The air filled with more and more flyers, darting ahead of the wave on a straight path to our barricades. And then some poor alien fuck stepped on one of my mines. Aliens were flung into the air in shredded hunks of meat. Mortars thumped, and a half-second later detonated over the barricade sending clouds of zipping shrapnel down onto the hoard. ¡°Fire!¡± someone ordered. The air filled with the roaring scream of a thousand guns. Muzzleflashes lit up the gap ahead of us with a constant yellow-white strobe, each flash marking the death of another alien. The wave turned into a deadly tumble, bodies flopping over each other on the down-slope of the debris barrier. Still, they kept coming. I brought my gun up and started to fire too. I wasn¡¯t even aiming. It didn¡¯t matter. Sure, there was a few dozen metres between us and the aliens, but there was so many of the fucks that it was impossible to miss. Acid rained down on their ranks. Bigger artillery pieces boomed behind us. Tanks fired salvos of high-explosive shells into the alien¡¯s ranks. I flinched as something¡¯s leg splattered against the side of my head, blown clean across the area. Gomorrah joined the carnage with a wave of fire to counter the wave of flesh rushing at her. Even with my armour I could feel the warmth as a long blue line of liquid fire screamed over to the aliens and started to melt them. It wasn¡¯t enough. They kept coming. Teeth and claws and angry eyes but never, never any sounds. Lasers lanced out from somewhere behind the line, swatting model ones out of the air so that they crashed around us as smoking corpses. I saw the first casualty on our side of the wall. Some PMC woman ran to one of the machine gun nests with a big box of ammo. A piece of some alien flipped through the air. A forelimb. Its clawed arm brained her in the side of the head and she went down, just like that. ¡°Fuck this,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, I need something to kill lots of shit, really fast.¡± Before Myalis could reply I flinched down and half-hid behind one of the cement walls as debris was tossed into the air ahead. A big lumbering fuck stumbled through the new gap, then it started to run across the empty space, faster than anything that had come before. Everyone in the area turned their focus to the monster. No matter how tough it might have been, there was only so much it could do against the amount of armour-penetrating rounds being flung at it. That moment of distraction though was all the wave needed to get over the barrier in droves. Now they were spreading out, slipping behind cover and rushing out, we couldn¡¯t just focus on those on the very top of the wall anymore. ¡°Oh shit,¡± I muttered. Chapter Fifty-Nine - Nyanpalm Chapter Fifty-Nine - Nyanpalm ¡°The most annoying thing to deal with are people who come around and call you an idiot, they say that you¡¯re stupid, sometimes even to your face. Some might even be right. The actions you took in the moment were wrong, or less than optimal. But often-times, they themselves aren¡¯t any smarter. They¡¯re just critical without self-reflection behind the criticism. Is it any wonder that so many of us just plain refuse to deal with any sort of fan?¡± --Sprocket Rocket, livestreamed interview, 2043 *** I fired until my gun clicked empty, then I lowered it while Myalis reloaded. My back-mounted railguns were spitting at any of the bigger aliens to pop their head over the edge. It wasn¡¯t going to be enough. The wave of aliens was acting like a real wave. It would push out, antithesis racing to us, almost running over each other to reach the barricade. Then we¡¯d mow them all down and the wave would be shoved back, dead falling down to the ground until nothing was alive from where we stood to the crest of the wall of debris. The next wave would surge right after, so many bodies coming over the hillside that even our collective firepower wasn¡¯t enough to push them back. Gomorrah was actually having a better time of it. Some of her fire stuck to the ground after she sprayed it. A glance to the side and I got to see a model three rush across burning soil, its flesh melted, and by the time it was halfway to Gomorrah¡¯s position the alien had fallen, limbs unable to work and body alight. ¡°Gomorrah,¡± I said. ¡°Yes?¡± came her terse reply. She was under about as much stress as the rest of us. It didn¡¯t lead to much chattiness. ¡°I¡¯m borrowing your gimmick,¡± I said. ¡°Fire¡¯s working where bullets aren¡¯t.¡± Our goal wasn¡¯t to kill as many aliens as possible. It was to hold. You can work together with another Vanguard, combining known catalogues to purchase something new. It¡¯s not done too frequently though as there¡¯s little overlap. In this case, there might be some. ¡°That would have been nice to know earlier,¡± I muttered. ¡°You hear that Gom?¡± ¡°Yes? What¡¯s your idea? Firebombs?¡± ¡°I was thinking of something more manoeuvrable,¡± I said. I paused as my mortars fired again, the booms drowning out all else. The shells went off and sprayed the next wave with enough shrapnel that the wave crumbled early and only needed to be mopped up. ¡°I think I can equip some cat drones with flame throwers. We could spread them out, maybe. Push in?¡± Gomorrah took a second to reply. ¡°Atyacus says it¡¯s doable. I¡¯m not sure about the name of them though. Sounds like another one of your stupid puns.¡± I baulked. I didn¡¯t make stupid puns, ever. That was... ¡°Myalis, what did you call these things?¡± Seeing as they¡¯re basically an upgraded version of a Lynx-type mechanised cat drone, I suggested that we call them Flamethrower Equipped Lynx Intelligent Nyanpalm Edition or F.E.L.I.N.E for short. ¡°What the fuck is nyanpalm?¡± I asked. I need to give credit to Atyacus for the composition of that one. It¡¯s essentially a viscous-kerosene mixture with small capsules mixed into it. Those contain white phosphorus and thermite. The capsules will stick to any surface, then as the coating around them melts, they¡¯ll activate the chemicals within. ¡°That sounds horrific,¡± I said. Inventing new war crimes is one of Atyacus¡¯ favourite hobbies. I personally prefer wordplay. I shook my head, but I didn¡¯t have time to mess around. ¡°You okay with this, Gomorrah?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she said. ¡°We can send them in waves. There are plenty of points to reap here, so go nuts.¡± I nodded. This entire thing would actually be a lot easier if we could use really powerful explosives. But that wouldn¡¯t work in this situation. ¡°Myalis, let''s get a dozen of those F.E.L.I.N.E.s out here.¡± Understood. A dozen F.E.L.I.N.E.s incoming. I didn¡¯t have time to stare at the boxes appearing around me as another wave started to rush us down. I planted my feet in place and opened up at the front of the line. Buckshot tore through the ranks of model threes, then I turned my focus to the sky where a swarm of smaller model ones were flocking. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. A glance to the side revealed one of the F.E.L.I.N.E.s jumped up onto the barricade. It was a big, sleek cat, with an armoured body that opened up at the shoulders where a pair of nozzles were poking out. The cat hissed, then twin beams of fire roared out ahead of it and sprayed the nearest edge of the wave. The flames couldn¡¯t quite reach the top of the debris wall, but that was fine. The splatter at the end was going everywhere and lighting up the corpses the previous waves had left behind. The other cats joined in, a few of them jumping on to the barricade, then over to the other side. ¡°Right, I¡¯m going to push,¡± I said. I stepped onto the barricade, then over it. ¡°Can you get those mortar teams firing faster?¡± Certainly. ¡°Cat, why are you pushing?¡± Gomorrah asked. I paused. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Feels like the right thing to do?¡± I said. ¡°At least let me come with you. You¡¯ll just get yourself killed,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I think I¡¯ll stay back here. Not one to cower much, but I¡¯m not equipped for that kinda fighting yet,¡± Jimothy said. I checked back to the tower where he was holding up, then gave him a thumb¡¯s up. ¡°No problem. Watch the skies for us, would you?¡± ¡°Will do, ma¡¯am.¡± Gomorrah vaulted over the hip-high wall covering her section, then she casually walked through the flames, only pausing when an alien jumped out from under a corpse. She met it boot-first, shoved it into the ground, then levelled her flamethrower at it and cooked it. ¡°You ready?¡± I asked as I joined her more or less between our two sections. I pumped my shotgun, the satisfying krack-clung and humming glow making me feel a bit better about... I wasn¡¯t sure if this counted as a plan or not. ¡°Let¡¯s just peek over the wall, light some of them on fire, then back off if things get too hot for us to handle,¡± Gomorrah suggested. I nodded once. ¡°Sure,¡± I agreed. As we started to stomp our way to the front, another wave crested the barricade. My new F.E.L.I.N.E. units met it with hissing flames. Even with my armour on, I could feel the temperature rising. Sweat was matting my hair down against my forehead. I stepped up the wall of debris, finding purchase carefully between mangled corpses. Behind us, the PMCs and volunteer defenders were stuttering their fire, only taking out the aliens that weren¡¯t too close to us. Those that came close to Gomorrah and I didn¡¯t stay a problem for long. With my free hand gripping the edge of the wall, I pulled myself up, then looked over. ¡°Mother of fuck,¡± I swore. The city was full. Every street was crammed with aliens. Most of the space was taken up by smaller ones, but larger models stood out everywhere I cared to look, a lot of them in their tens. I swore again when I saw some of those big artillery models near the back, and a few of those mobile hive units were shoving their way into the sides of buildings. They¡¯d have the entire place infested in a matter of hours. How long before they started making fresh aliens right here? There was some breathing room just on the other side of the wall, space where the aliens gathered up for another charge. ¡°We¡¯re going to need bigger guns,¡± I said. ¡°And a lot more fire.¡± I winced as shells came raining out of the sky. Explosions burst apart against the sides of buildings and some went off right on top of the antithesis. Huge balls of fire and churned up alien chunks. The gaps they left were filled long before the dust cleared. I glanced back. Our barrier in the gap didn¡¯t look so strong compared to what was coming. What were a few thousand people and a hundred-odd tanks going to do against so god-damn many warm aliens? ¡°Myalis, you know that second tier with the exotic explosives? I think we¡¯re going to need it pretty bad right about now.¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to need more than a few bombs and some fire,¡± Gomorrah said. We both ducked as one of those big artillery models flung a spinning wheel our way. It rumbled past, used the edge of the debris wall as a ramp, then exploded a few metres from the edge of the barricade. ¡°We¡¯ll figure something out,¡± I said. I think I might have sounded more confident than I felt. ¡°That, or we¡¯ll die trying.¡± *** Chapter Sixty - The Enemy Wont Do As You Wish Chapter Sixty - The Enemy Won''t Do As You Wish ¡°Vanguard have got something of a knack for things. Look, I ain¡¯t saying they¡¯re magic or anything, they¡¯re not Jedi or wizards or whatever. They just... you know, they¡¯ve got a little something that makes them stand out. You think them brain-AI just picks any git off the street?¡± --Curb-side interview, 2034 *** ¡°Myalis,¡± I said. Yes, Catherine? Myalis¡¯ voice was, as ever, calm, which was reassuring when I was so very close to having my ass eaten by a whole heap of aliens, and not in the fun way. ¡°I need a way to kill all these fucks real fast-like,¡± I said. How much collateral damage are you willing to accept responsibility for? I bit my lip at the question. That was terrifying to hear. ¡°However much would result in the most dead aliens,¡± I said. That¡¯s easily arrangeable. Your main issue isn¡¯t killing the antithesis. You¡¯ve proven quite capable at that. Your problem is getting your explosive payload delivered to the Antithesis. Honestly, you might be best served with a slight change in tactics. I have some options for short-to-midrange weapons that can weaken or outright kill most weaker Antithesis. ¡°What kind of weapon?¡± I asked. The High Intermittency Sound Scrambler is a device you can fit onto your armour that would act as your resonators do, though with greatly increased efficiency. ¡°You just want to give me something called a HISS while I¡¯m distracted, don¡¯t you?¡± That may play a role in my proposal. Though it would be effective in keeping you alive. ¡°Fine, but I want to kill things more than I want to stay alive. Not that I don¡¯t want to... fuck, you know what I meant.¡± A box appeared by my feet, and I popped it open. It was relatively small, with a badge-like device within it that was round, maybe the size of my palm, and with a few concentric circles within a metal case. Just apply that to your armour. It will stick on and mesh with your stealth systems. The system will activate on its own when an Antithesis is near. The sound might interrupt any attempts at stealth though. I smacked the HISS against my upper chest and it stayed on with a clunk. Then I poked my head back up and over the debris wall. The renewed shelling had pushed the nearest part of the swarm back, but they were starting to run up towards us again, gaining speed as they covered more ground, leapt over craters and slipped around the roasting bodies of other dead aliens. Gomorrah found a chunk of cement to stand on, then she raised herself up so that her torso poked out above the debris. She shifted her flamethrower around so that it clunked onto a broken piece of fallen masonry, then she started to spray. The liquid fire splashed out ahead of her and Gomorrah slowly swept her flamethrower from left to right. The horde didn¡¯t stop just because the ground had turned into a flaming mess. They charged through the smoke and paid for it an instant later as they cooked alive. The bigger models pushed into the fires as well, just as heedless as the smaller, though the more clever among them used the bodies of the fallen as stepping stools. ¡°Keep it up!¡± I shouted. ¡°Myalis, nades.¡± A grenade appeared in the air next to me and I caught it, recognizing it as one of those black-hole bombs. I pulled the pin, then tossed it forwards and in an arc that had the bomb going off just as it slipped past the edge of Gomorrah¡¯s fire. We had a slight chokepoint ahead of us, what with the buildings serving as funnels towards the rest of the city. The roads created long, narrow strips that the antithesis had to use, and there was little cover for them there. ¡°Cat,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Yeah?¡± I asked. I brought my Bullcat up and laid into a model five that was trampling its way through the fire. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re doing any more good here than we would back behind the barricades,¡± Gomorrah said. She flinched back as one of those artillery balls exploded above us and sent pins scattering against the debris. I glanced ahead, then back across the no man''s land. ¡°Fuck,¡± I muttered. ¡°You¡¯re right. Can we hold for a minute? Myalis, reload the mine-layer cats and get them back out here. We¡¯ll keep the aliens back long enough to have the area trapped for when the next wave arrives, alright?¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Fine,¡± Gomorrah said. My favourite nun peeked out over the edge of the wall we were using for cover, then she reached to the small of her back and came out with a pistol of all things. I was about to question why she was about to use that instead of her flamethrower when she whipped around our cover and fired. I followed the arcing trajectory of the projectile she fired. It glowed, like a flare, and descended right atop the model fifteen that had likely been the bastard flinging spike balls at us. The flare exploded, sending burning motes of something down across the street and onto the model fifteen. Even from afar, I could tell that whatever those motes were, they were hot as hell. The model fifteen writhed as it burned. ¡°Nice shot!¡± I said before slipping out of cover. I fired until my gun clicked empty, then dove back down while it reloaded. ¡°This doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°What part?¡± She gestured ahead of us. ¡°The constant waves. They¡¯re wasting biomass for nothing. I know the Antithesis aren¡¯t too smart sometimes, but this seems wasteful.¡± I almost dismissed what she said. It was easy and nice to assume that your enemy was a dumbass. The problem with that was, that as a dumbass myself, I knew that underestimating idiots was sometimes a bad idea. ¡°You think they¡¯re up to something else?¡± I asked. ¡°They might be stalling,¡± Gomorrah proposed. I shook my head. If they wanted to stall, all they had to do was nothing, and we¡¯d be sitting pretty behind our walls for a bit longer. Were they going to hit another area and this was a distraction? But no, we¡¯d see them coming. Above? The wall had pretty good AA. And the family would have noticed huge flocks moving around if they were planning to attack all-out from above. Which left below. ¡°Myalis, I¡¯ve got a hunch,¡± I said. I¡¯m listening. ¡°Do we have any sort of ground-sensors in the area?¡± There are several. Though currently their readings are complicated by the presence of so many heavy vehicles and drones by the walls. Not to mention the combat and explosive-use. ¡°I... would it be stupid to ask the Family to check? It¡¯s just a hunch.¡± You are a Vanguard. You were chosen for a multitude of reasons, including your instincts. Your hunches are worth more than others. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. It doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re not wrong. Frequently. And humorously. I chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re the kindest,¡± I said. ¡°Sorry for interrupting,¡± Jimothy said. ¡°But I¡¯ve got an ounce of experience with ground-related things. If you two are busy I can get something and check on your hunch, Miss Stray Cat.¡± ¡°That would be appreciated,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Go ahead, Crackshot.¡± ¡°Oh, I think I¡¯m liking the name. Not sure I¡¯ve earned it yet though,¡± he said. ¡°Give me just a minute.¡± Gomorrah glanced my way. ¡°You think they¡¯re under us?¡± ¡°Has the Family shut down all the connections between New Montreal and this part of the city?¡± I asked. According to the Family¡¯s reports, yes. Though it is possible some unmarked infrastructure remains. ¡°Are there any sorts of Antithesis that can dig then?¡± I asked. The Antithesis Model Eight and Eighteen can both dig. Model Eights were those big worm ones that carried food back to the hives. It figured that they could dig, they were worms. I figured a model eighteen was just more of the same. I heard a shift from behind me. A few screams and a pause in some of the gunfire, though the shooting had died down a little around our section ever since Gomorrah and I moved to the front. ¡°Oh, hells,¡± Crackshot said. I spun around. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked. Then I saw one of those big tanks sitting by the back tip over onto its side. Then, much to my surprise and everyone else¡¯s, the tank was thrown back. Several hundred tons of metal bounced up, flew a dozen paces back, then crashed down. A moment later, long black limbs started to press out of the ground. ¡°Misses,¡± Crackshot said. ¡°I think we might be needing you back here.¡± *** Chapter Sixty-One - Go Kill the Thing Chapter Sixty-One - Go Kill the Thing ¡°All students at Bartholomew G. Wordstum Elementary school must follow the dress code. That includes: Dress shirt/blouse (white, logo on breast) Fitted slacks/a skirt no shorter than the knees (black) Class 2 bulletproof vest (black) Lounge jacket (school standard, winter or summer variant) All students will be provided with new school software for their augmentations at the beginning of the semester.¡± --Letter to parents of students of Bartholomew G. Wordstum Elementary school, 2039 *** I had about a second to come up with an idea of what to do. That second passed. ¡°Cat!¡± Gomorrah shouted. ¡°Go kill that thing.¡± ¡°Got it!¡± I said. Then I ran. The earth shifted and rent, and from the growing hole came a beast whose appearance alone was enough to clutch my heart. I wasn¡¯t a coward or anything, and there were few things that made me nervous or that scared me, but that antithesis... fuck me if it wasn¡¯t terrifying. The antithesis clambered out of the hole it had made, slabs of cement falling into the growing pit even as dozens of model threes came pouring out of the hole after it. Its legs were tree trunks, its body was long and covered in thick bones with leathery segments between them. Four legs, and a face like a lamprey fucked chuthulu. As I ran, eyes on the monster, two long tusks ripped out of the sides of its head. They were bigger than I was, with serrated edges and sharp points. One of the tanks nearby started to back up, turret turning towards the antithesis while the big beast was still pulling itself out of the ground. The tank fired, and I slowed my run down. Was that it? Had I been freaking out for nothing? The dust cleared, revealing the antithesis which was shaking its head to clear out the smoke left behind by the exploding shell. It was injured, a crack in the off-white bone over its sternum and skin ripped through, but it wasn¡¯t dead. ¡°Myalis, what is that?¡± I asked. A model twenty-eight, though that is a small specimen of the model. A small specimen? It was the size of a tanker! The PMCs and militia around the hole turned around. Some opened fire immediately. The smarter ones ran for cover first. I saw two of them get gunned down as a nasty cross-fire started near the backlines. The model threes were going to be a problem. ¡°We need to patch that hole,¡± I said. The model twenty-eight turned, then started to charge with its head lowered. Its tusks rammed into a parked van and it lifted it clear off the ground before swinging its head around. The tusks retracted and the van went flying. ¡°We need to kill that thing,¡± I said. I must have had fire on my mind. ¡°Myalis, need a fire grenade, something long-lasting.¡± A bomb appeared in the air before me, just at the right height for me to catch it without having to slow down at all. I pulled the pin, then vaulted over the barricades. Militia-people were scurrying around in barely contained panic. Officers were screaming orders out, and I could tell that the other sections were looking our way, wondering what to do. I flung the grenade Myalis had given me out and ahead as hard as I could. It sailed through the air in a nearly perfect arc, bounced off the head of a model three, then disappeared into the hole. A heartbeat later a dozen red beams flashed out of the opening, some of them spearing into and through the model threes still on the edge of the hole. That will last for approximately one minute. Good enough for the moment. I refocused on the model twenty-eight. A lot of others were doing the same, firing into its sides and flanks. The big alien seemed almost confused for a moment before it spotted a group of power-armoured PMCs running by. It ran after them, like a hyperactive dog who¡¯d just spotted a juicy squirrel. I winced as the monster swung its head down and picked one of the men off the ground and into the air, its lamprey mouth crunching down on the soldier. Now that I was closer, I raised my gun to fire at it, then paused. Plenty of others were doing the same. It wasn¡¯t working. The damned thing had tanked a shell to the torso with barely more than a scratch to show for it. If I couldn¡¯t do anything from the outside, then... the inside? My Claw wouldn¡¯t go deep enough. For that matter, I bet the bastard was nearly as tough inside as it was on the outside. I needed something with more oomph. ¡°Myalis, get me the Claw¡¯s bigger meaner brother,¡± I asked. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Certainly. New Purchase: Mark VI Claw Points Reduced to... 54,129 Myalis didn¡¯t bother with a box. That would have taken seconds I didn¡¯t have. Instead a big gun appeared in the air before me. It was squat, with a wide front with a handhold beneath and a curved grip and handguard. No barrel, which in hindsight made sense. I let my Bullcat drop, the strap hooked to it allowing the gun to dangle by my side as I raised the Claw. A crosshair appeared in my augmented vision and I placed it atop the big alien. Then I took in a deep breath and pulled the trigger. There was a faint ¡®clack¡¯ and some of the lights on the gun glowed for a moment. A timer circle appeared around the crosshair and filled up until it disappeared. I moved the crosshair down towards the middle of the alien¡¯s body, then fired again. A moment later, the alien¡¯s side where I¡¯d put the first round, exploded. Skin and bone and blood gushed out of a hole large enough that I could have crawled into it. Soldiers and PMCs cheered, but I ignored those in favour of firing into the alien again. A little flesh-wound like that wouldn¡¯t kill it. The smarter soldiers opened fire again, this time aiming for the opening in the alien¡¯s side where its tough skin wouldn¡¯t be able to absorb as much of the damage we were laying into it. A second explosion occurred, this one partially swallowed by the alien¡¯s side. Then a third, near the flank, which ripped apart enough of the model twenty-eight¡¯s hip that the alien stumbled to the side, one of its rear legs only hanging on by a few tatters of skin. The tanks stationed at the back had turned their attention inwards. Fortunately, they weren¡¯t firing desperately at the monster. Instead they were taking their time. When one of them fired, the others waited to line up their shot properly. The model twenty-eight groaned as armour-piercing shells punched holes into its sides. Coupled with the explosions I was setting off within it, it was only a matter of time before the alien collapsed onto its side. There was enough weight crashing down all at once that I felt it in the soles of my feet. Well done. That was a difficult opponent. ¡°Yeah, well it wasn¡¯t just me,¡± I said. I glanced at the hole where the lasers had stopped and more model threes were starting to poke their heads out. The hole was partially encircled by PMCs now, some of them dragging barricades over, others on overwatch to shoot anything that poked its head out. ¡°Can I get a box-full of whatever grenade that was last time?¡± I asked. Certainly. They¡¯re area-denial explosives that fire lasers. They¡¯re called HAIRBALLS. I shook my head, then grabbed a passing PMC. Myalis¡¯ box of HAIRBALLS appeared by my feet, and I pointed to it. ¡°Bring this to the troops defending that hole. Toss one into the hole every minute.¡± The man nodded his head, grabbed the case, then ran off towards the hole. He¡¯d probably follow my instructions. There was the risk that he was greedy, but... well, running off with a boxfull of explosives was stupid when you didn¡¯t know if the person who¡¯d given them to you could detonate them from afar. ¡°Cat!¡± Gomorrah called back. I spun around. No one was paying attention to the front. At least, no one in our part of the defences. The antithesis knew it. And they abused the fact. Gomorrah was walking backwards across the no man¡¯s land. Her flamethrower was spitting fire over what was left of the wall before her. The tide was pouring over the debris, hundreds of them pushing over each other¡¯s flaming corpses to try and reach Gomorrah. When she lit up one group, another would slip into the gap. She was going to be overrun. ¡°Fuck. Attention to the front!¡± I shouted. A few people were paying enough attention that the fire heading ahead redoubled for a moment. I didn¡¯t wait. I fired my new gun, hit some model five that was moving too slow, then discarded the gun a moment later. It was too slow. Just as the tide reached Gomorrah, she bent her knees and jumped backwards. Fire bloomed out beneath her and she rocketed into the air on a plume of burning thrust. I let out a relieved sigh. I wouldn¡¯t be seeing my friend chewed up just yet. Still, I didn¡¯t think our troubles were over. *** Chapter Sixty-Two - Getting Out of Hand Chapter Sixty-Two - Getting Out of Hand ¡°You can never be too prepared when dealing with an incursion. When on defensive duty, it behooves a commanding officer to spend their entire budget on good equipment. Yes, cutting corners is tempting, but history and statistics have proven that more money is saved by having better equipment than by purchasing and equipping soldiers with poorer equipment.¡± --The Awe Strikers, CO manual, Page 257, 2044 edition *** ¡°This is getting out of hand,¡± I shouted over the din of constant gunfire. The debris barrier had served its purpose, it had slowed down the alien swarm for a good long while. Now, the wall of crumbled cement was riddled with holes as artillery shots from the antithesis exploded against the far side and bigger models rammed their way through the debris. The smaller, more nimble aliens just continued to flow over the wall without much issue. We were burning them. We were shooting them full of holes. We were even outright melting them with acid and resonators. The occasional bomb set off in their midst was chewing through their numbers too. I was tossing everything over to the wall to slow the tide down. Blackhole bombs could only take so much before they stopped. Zero-kelvin grenades would slow the advance down, but only in pockets. Garrot grenades were great at mulching the smaller antithesis, but against the more armoured ones they would break apart after a few seconds of sustained use. Gomorrah¡¯s flames grew hotter as she switched over to a new gun. Soon the PMCs on her side were inching closer to mine, away from the scorching heat. I think Crackshot Cowboy to my right got some sort of infinite-ammo thing for his gun because he was firing a whole lot faster. He¡¯d need to replace the barrel soon, it was glowing orange, and not from any RGB. ¡°Christ,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°This isn¡¯t working. We¡¯re not going to hold them back forever.¡± Eventually bigger, stronger models would show up. The barricade we had would fail. Or maybe we¡¯d just run out of bullets. There were vans driving over to the backlines with entire pallets of ammo boxes, but I didn¡¯t think that would be enough, even with teams of volunteers reloading magazines that were being run back and forth. ¡°Myalis, one of those fire-lasers, please,¡± I said. She dropped the grenade into my open palm and I flung it forwards with a grunt. It flew a good long ways before bursting and sniping a dozen aliens with fiery beams of reddish light. That poked a hole in the alien carpet. The hole was filled a moment later. ¡°Fuck me,¡± I swore. ¡°Yeah, I feel ya,¡± Jimothy said over our shared comms. I had points to spare. Thousands of them. What I didn¡¯t have was time. I was really tempted to start chucking nukes or their equivalents onto the aliens, but I had to worry about collateral damage, which meant using more precise weaponry. ¡°Go wider,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Bigger effects, everyone.¡± Bigger effects... I could do that. ¡°Myalis, I need the mother of all acid bombs. I want to carpet the entire area in alien-melting goop.¡± That can be arranged. Might I suggest bombs which have highly-pressurized compressed space within them? If filled with sufficiently dangerous chemicals you could quite literally flood a large space with your chemical of choice! ¡°Sounds perfect,¡± I said. ¡°And give me something to shoot it with. I don¡¯t want something too dangerous to go off at our feet.¡± Understood. Delivering. ¡°Head¡¯s up!¡± I shouted aloud. ¡°Switching guns. Keep up the fire!¡± The amount of gunfire redoubled for a moment while I ducked back. A pair of boxes appeared next to me. One long and big enough that I could have stuffed Lucy into it, the other the size of a fat briefcase. I opened the smaller of the two, revealing two big, egg-shaped objects that were very obviously bombs. They had little fins on the back and black-yellow warning stripes around their middle. Each had a cap with a different colour. Green and blue. The green one should be fired first. It¡¯s an aerosolized acid dispersal bomb. Despite its size, the bomb contains point five tonnes of hyper-compressed gas. The blue bomb contains a connection to what is essentially a massive off-planet vat of liquid acid. It¡¯s technically a sulfuric acid, though the exact chemical makeup is somewhat dissimilar to the frequently-used acid and there are several additives. ¡°Green first, got it,¡± I said. I popped open the second box to reveal a long tube with pads for it to hang onto my shoulder and a trigger mechanism at the front. There was a big opening on the side, very conspicuously bomb-shaped. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°I think I¡¯ve figured this one out already.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Very well done. Place the bomb into the slot, business end pointing forwards, then aim and fire. The launch device has no safety, so please be careful. I picked up the launcher, grabbed the handle, then reached down for the green-topped bomb. Damn thing was heavier than it looked, by a lot. Still, I managed to load it into its slot. As soon as it was in, the opening closed with a clunk and a few lights on the side of the barrel went green. I dropped to one knee and aimed down a holographic sight on the side of the barrel. It very conveniently showed me the arc the bomb would take. Tipping the entire thing back, I aimed skywards, then pulled the trigger. The bomb flew forwards with a dull thwump, and I felt a slight kickback against my shoulder. I followed its pretty arc across the sky. Just as it was about to disapper over the debris wall the bomb whooshed and the air filled with a growing cloud of bright green smoke. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Crackshot asked. ¡°Acid,¡± I said. ¡°Might want to warn the folk around here to avoid it. I¡¯m going to fire something else at them.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take care of that,¡± he replied. ¡°Need to let my gun cool down anyway.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± I replied. The opening on the launcher¡¯s side reappeared and I picked up the second bomb. The damned thing was heavier than the first. This time, I aimed a little higher. Another loud thump, a hard shove against my shoulder, and I got to see the bomb fly over and smack a model five atop the head with enough force that I was pretty sure it wasn¡¯t going to make it. No bang this time, though maybe the bomb¡¯s noise was swallowed up by the still-growing green cloud. ¡°Acid! Acid! Masks on!¡± some sergeant shouted. The PMCs took turns pulling on full-face masks. The militia folk too, though I questioned the quality of the masks I saw them putting on. The shift meant that for a good few seconds, we weren¡¯t firing into the mass of aliens anymore. The antithesis didn¡¯t slow down, but when they came pouring closer, it was clear that the acid was working. A model three with its eyes leaking down the side of its face jumped onto the barricade, jaws wide open to reveal a mouth with gums that had turned to liquid. A militiaman jammed the butt of his gun into the alien¡¯s jaw and its many teeth tinkled onto the ground before it flopped back onto the other side of the barricade. More aliens came pouring out of the smoke with their skin melting off. Eyes and lungs seemed to be impacted first. The antithesis were usually rather quiet but now they were gasping for breath with liquid rasps. Having no eyes meant that they weren¡¯t as coordinated as usual. Plenty of them were running parallel to the barricade now, and a number of them charged up and rammed the cement walls head-first, some hard enough that they died then and there. I noticed some sort of gel-like substance sticking to a lot of them, usually around their legs and on the smaller models, their stomachs and tails and torsos. It was eating through their flesh at an alarming rate. The gas was slowly dissipating. Or rather, it was spreading itself thin. ¡°Nice work,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem flammable either, which is nice, I suppose.¡± ¡°I mean, if you want to go all thermobaric on them, go nuts,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t tempt me,¡± Gomorrah said. Our banter was cut off by a ringing. The Family was calling, and it seemed urgent. I answered, of course, while bringing my Bullcat up to spray at what aliens were making it through the acid cloud. ¡°Everyone,¡± Laserjack¡¯s voice said over the line. ¡°We¡¯re almost in the clear. Almost. We have a large number of higher-numbered models coming. Brace yourselves. This is about to get a lot harder. For those of you at the very front... thank you. If you would rather back out now, we¡¯ll understand.¡± I think the PMCs and militia got similar messages. A lot of them were clearly listening to something. And then, just like that, there was a sudden exodus. I stared as entire squads grabbed their gear and ran back. ¡°What the hell?¡± I asked. ¡°They¡¯re retreating,¡± Gomorrah said simply. ¡°Why? We¡¯re winning, aren¡¯t we? We can take on a few of the bigger bastards, no problem.¡± That wasn¡¯t quite true. ¡®No problem¡¯ was a lie. It would be hard. It would be much harder without the help of non-samurai. ¡°Ladies,¡± Jimothy said. ¡°I don¡¯t rightly think I¡¯m ready for this part. Going to back up a ways and lay down fire from afar. Good luck, alright?¡± I cursed under my breath. Why now, of all times? ¡°I think I need to make a call,¡± Gomorrah said solemnly. *** Chapter Sixty-Three - Burning Chapter Sixty-Three - Burning ¡°I miss the good old days. You know, when one game in ten was still single player, without live-service microtransactions and gacha mechanics. What¡¯s the last time a good game came out that wasn¡¯t made for mobile?¡± --4channel forums, 2032 *** I thought that maybe knowing I was going to die would depress me a bit more than it did. In reality, all I felt was a little cold. Lucy would be sad. The kittens too. Some of them, at least. The acid cloud was slowly dissipating. The wind, fortunately, was pushing it back and away from us. The acidic goop covering the ground wasn¡¯t moving though. A few fallen aliens were sinking into it. Or maybe melting into it would be more appropriate. The front was quiet for the moment. There was still shooting way off to the side, but it was less active than it had been before. I glanced over and took note of Jolly Monarch¡¯s Rooks, the big mecha still standing guard over the majority of the gap. ¡°I need me one of those,¡± I said as I stared at the bristling array of firepower sticking out of the tower. You can almost afford one now. I snorted. ¡°Maybe later.¡± A big walking mech would be pretty fucking cool. I couldn¡¯t see any use for it beyond defending this kind of place, but it would be undeniably cool. Myalis--and Lucy--would insist that it look like a giant cat. I could live with that. I shook my head, clearing my mind a bit. I was supposed to be thinking of my impending demise, not giant robots. Glancing around, I searched for Gomorrah, then froze up when I couldn¡¯t see her. My blood chilled. Had she retreated? A few PMCs were still running back. Others were defying orders and staying by the front. Had Gomorrah decided that she had enough? Then I spotted her a little ways to the back, standing next to a tank and seemingly unaware that she was in its path. She was bent over, hunched. Had she been hurt or was she changing out her gear? I jogged towards her, skipping over a barricade that stopped at hip-height. I slowed down from a jog to a calmer walk as I came closer. Gomorrah¡¯s mask was off, which was unusual. She had placed her mask atop the tracks of the tank and was looking off in another direction. ¡°I know... yes, I know that too,¡± she said. She was frustrated, obviously, and talked to someone. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Franny, it¡¯s not looking too great down here... no, I can¡¯t go back. It¡¯s my duty, to God and the people behind me. I won¡¯t retreat. But-- Franny, shut up!¡± I stopped a ways away. I¡¯d never heard Gomorrah quite so raw before. She took a deep breath. ¡°I think I love you,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe. I don¡¯t... I¡¯ll talk to you later. No. Bye.¡± She swallowed, then in a lower tone, addressed someone else. ¡°Atyacus, send her to voicemail when she calls, please? Or, no, tell her that I¡¯m busy. Please?¡± Gomorrah turned, then froze on seeing me. I raised my hands in surrender and pretended not to see any wetness or confusion in her eyes. She slipped her mask on, then cleared her throat. ¡°Ready?¡± she asked. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± I wasn¡¯t going to push. She sounded conflicted and, yeah, I¡¯d been there once. Confessing was hard. Though, well, maybe I had it easy with Lucy. Gomorrah stared ahead of us, towards the ruins of the city. ¡°I have a plan. It¡¯s a bad one.¡± ¡°Those are the only plans I take part in,¡± I said. ¡°Good. Want to toss out more of those acid bombs? We could create a sort of barrier to prevent the horde from reaching the wall, retreating PMCs or no. Then we fly over the acid and nuke the plants back into their constituent atoms.¡± ¡°That sounds great to me, but I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m not allowed to use nukes within....¡± I glanced over my shoulder towards New Montreal. The city towered above and behind me. ¡°About two kilometres from the edge of the city.¡± ¡°Not nukes then,¡± Gomorrah said. I hummed, then flicked through my contacts until I landed on Laserjack. He replied nearly as soon as I tapped send. ¡°Stray Cat? What¡¯s wrong?¡± Stolen story; please report. ¡°What¡¯s wrong is that it feels like we¡¯ve been told to sit tight and wait to die. Do I sound like the type of girl who dies? So fuck that. Going to blow shit up, drop some literal acid on the aliens and generally make myself a nuisance with Gomorrah. We¡¯ve got stacks of points to burn over here, you know.¡± There was a second-long pause. ¡°Okay. Try to avoid any attacks that might damage the protected part of the city, or at least the defences that remain.¡± ¡°You¡¯re real nonchalant about this,¡± I said, pulling out one of my fancy words. ¡°You¡¯re samurai, there¡¯s no such thing as hopeless as long as one of us is drawing breath. The horde¡¯s been thinned considerably already and we¡¯ve moved more heavy equipment around, we could be able to close up the wall within the next two hours. Things aren¡¯t as desperate as they seem.¡± ¡°Oh. Then why tell people to retreat?¡± ¡°Because we¡¯re going to need people rested. Things are still pretty bad; and they¡¯re going to get a whole lot worse. We need to start destroying hives all over. We have dozens of confirmed locations in New Montreal¡¯s vicinity alone. Thousands across the continent. We¡¯ve lost contact with some smaller cities already. Truth is, New Montreal is doing really well right now.¡± ¡°Well shit,¡± I said. ¡°We had a lot of additional troops in the city because of the earlier incursion. A good quarter of Canada¡¯s clean up crews were moved to New Montreal in the last... you don¡¯t need to know all of this. If you and Gomorrah want to take up the job of wiping out the last of the wave, then go ahead, and thank you.¡± The line went dead and I shook my head. What a weirdo. ¡°Okay, I guess that counts as enough permission for me. Myalis, any idea what kind of fuckery we¡¯ll be dealing with?¡± More models in ten-to-twenty range, certainly. Possibly early hive structures. Gomorrah must have been clued in to what Myalis was saying. ¡°Anything we should worry about if we fly over the area and bomb it from above?¡± Atyacus was the one to reply, over the comms, though I suspected that Gomorrah heard her own AI in her head the way I heard Myalis in mine. After observing the area from several camera emplacements overlooking the city, I have noticed fewer flying models than you would usually find in an incursion of this size. Unfortunately, while I have some hypothesis as to why, I lack sufficient data to make a proper analysis. Myalis added her own two credits a moment later. That may change. Model twos and other flying models tend to be lighter than their ground-bound equivalents. Their creation rate within a fully grown hive with sufficient biomass is quite rapid. ¡°So let¡¯s bomb them before the skies become inhospitable,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re taking the Fury?¡± ¡°We could jetpack over, but... yes, I¡¯d rather take my car. It¡¯ll be safer than just being out there without protection. Though... I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ll fit.¡± I glanced down at myself and my rather imposing armour. She was probably right, unless I was willing to stuff myself into the back seats sideways, there was no way I¡¯d fit. ¡°I can ditch the armour for now. We¡¯ll be mostly safe, right? Or I can hang off the roof top.¡± ¡°That sounds incredibly reckless.¡± ¡°I have jump jets, if I fall I probably won¡¯t die,¡± I pointed out. ¡°Besides, someone needs to drop the bombs. Speaking of which, do you think we should combo things again? Your fire, my weird explosives?¡± Gomorrah nodded. ¡°Oh yes, I could genuinely go for that right now.¡± It was a little weird that Gomorrah could ¡®go for¡¯ a massive pyromaniacal streak the same way someone else might ¡®go for¡¯ a few drinks, but I wasn¡¯t going to poke. My favourite nun needed a bit of a break. If that required lighting entire blocks of aliens on fire then so be it. Gomorrah called the Fury over and we hurried up to wait. It wasn¡¯t entirely lost time though. We had entire combined catalogues to pour over, picking and choosing the kind of personal hell we were about to unleash upon the aliens who had dared inconvenience us. It was going to be great! *** Chapter Sixty-Four - Climate Change Via Mass Destruction Chapter Sixty-Four - Climate Change Via Mass Destruction ¡°The average samurai will do as much good for the environment as harm. They¡¯ll occasionally decide to ruin an entire corporation on a whim, often the same corporations responsible for massive environmental disasters (see: BP 2029) and they might provide the tools, expertise, or simple willingness to fix ecological issues. By that same token, they will often cause massive disasters while attempting to eliminate their adversaries (see: The Lake Huron Incident 2032). --An Environmental Analysis of the Impact of Out-of-Context Actors, 2036 *** The Fury spun around in a tight circle as it lowered itself to ground level. A few PMCs glanced our way, but we were doing samurai stuff and they mostly knew to mind their own when two samurai were on the warpath. Also, they¡¯d probably just witnessed the pair of us kill a thousand-odd aliens each, which I imagined was a decent way of instilling a sort of primal respect in someone. ¡°Are you going to ditch the armour?¡± Gomorrah asked. I thought about it for about a second. ¡°I¡¯d rather not. Think I can ride on the hood?¡± ¡°That would be exceptionally stupid, but I won¡¯t stop you,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Try not to scratch the paint though.¡± She opened the driver¡¯s side door and slid into the car. I hesitated for a second before raising a leg and climbing onto the hood. The muscle-car-like shape of the Fury was coming in handy since it was all sharp, aggressive angles. ¡°Right, this¡¯ll make it easier to fling bombs off the side,¡± I said. I was feeling... dubiously confident in my lack of any sort of plan. Did you decide what kind of bomb you want to use? Myalis¡¯ question wasn¡¯t too terrible. ¡°We¡¯ll start with those acid cloud ones I think, right Gom?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a bad idea,¡± she agreed. ¡°I asked Atyacus for ideas for explosives, since those are generally your area of expertise, and he found something interesting. Heat bombs.¡± ¡°Heat bombs? Is that an acronym?¡± I asked. It could be. Gomorrah probably didn¡¯t hear that last comment. ¡°No. They literally create heat. Lots and lots of heat in a small area. It¡¯s not exactly fast-acting, which is probably for the best. We want to burn the aliens away, not blow them up.¡± ¡°I mean, I pretty explicitly want to blow them up,¡± I pointed out as I tried to find better footing on the hood. This wasn¡¯t going to work. ¡°Myalis, I need magnets or something.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t want to send bits of antithesis flying all over,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°This will kill everything without sending anything flying. It¡¯ll create some wind, of course, and... likely burn the entire region down, but no explosions.¡± Myalis helpfully summoned a pair of foot-shaped pads in a box. I placed them onto the hood, then put my feet over them and they clamped on. Suddenly, my feet were locked in place. ¡°How hot are we talking here? I don''t need numbers, just... use something my pea-brain can understand.¡± ¡°Have you ever used an oven?¡± Gomorrah asked after a moment¡¯s pause. I glanced back towards her, but the Fury didn¡¯t actually have a windshield. ¡°Yeah, sure. I¡¯ve seen them before.¡± ¡°What about an air fryer?¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. They had some in the nicer convenience stores to warm shit up. ¡°Well, those operate at a couple of hundred degrees at most. But the idea is similar here. Only this device pulls its warmth from the sun.¡± I gestured vaguely towards the sky. ¡°That sun? The warm ball of fire that we can feel way over here, very, very far away from it?¡± Technically, not that sun, no. A much larger, less volatile sun. ¡°Yes?¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Are we going to explode the entire city?¡± ¡°No,¡± she replied. ¡°It¡¯s entirely non-explosive. It¡¯s pure heat and nothing but heat. No fire, no blast, no shockwave. Just a gentle rise in temperature until we shut off the device remotely.¡± ¡°How gentle? We do need to kill the fuckers, you know?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll start at boiling and increase until everything melts or lights on fire. Possibly both. I like the idea. A lot.¡± ¡°Okay then,¡± I said, surrendering any objections. Let it never be said that I wasn¡¯t a great friend. I was willing to support Gomorrah with her weird kink shit in her time of need, and if that didn¡¯t make me a good friend, then nothing would. ¡°Let¡¯s melt us some aliens then. We should start with the acid bombs though.¡± I yelped as the Fury jumped up, my knees almost buckled at the sudden movement, but I managed to not make a complete idiot of myself by spreading my arms out to the sides and locking my knees in place. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. The car tilted a bit before sweeping out over the battlefield. ¡°Right, Myalis, acid bombs,¡± I said. Certainly. Myalis provided, as she always did. No boxes, probably since we weren¡¯t in a position where I could open a box up to use it anyway. I underhanded the bomb to the side and grinned as it exploded with a satisfying blam and started to spread a growing cloud of green-tinted gas that quickly swept down onto the no-man¡¯s land and the buildings on the edge of the gap. Gomorrah moved us to the side where there wasn¡¯t as much cover and I flung out a second bomb, then a third as we moved down the line. The gas was pooling on the ground below, most of it keeping at about waist-height. The few aliens still trying to run across the gap met with a wall of permeating acidic fog that would burn their flesh off and likely ruin their insides. I just hoped it made the job of the people that remained at the barricades easier. I was in a decent mood until I noticed the number of PMCs pulling out. Laserjack¡¯s shit about them needing to rest was all nice and good, but it didn¡¯t stop me from wanting to stomp down there and smack some commanders around while calling them cowards. I put it off. If I didn¡¯t have anything better to do later, then maybe I¡¯d trample over some law and order and blow some sense into whomever was in charge of those PMCs. Or I¡¯d just explode them. I wasn¡¯t really homicidal, but things would depend a lot on my mood later. ¡°Last one?¡± Gomorrah asked as we swung to the far end of the gap. ¡°Looks like it,¡± I said. I flicked the last of the gas bombs over the side and watched it sail down towards the ground. It burst apart a dozen metres above and started to spread its payload around. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine that shit¡¯s good for anyone¡¯s health.¡± It very much isn¡¯t. Nor is it necessarily good for the environment. ¡°Well... I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d be causing any ecological disasters today, but I guess that¡¯s part of fighting the antithesis, isn¡¯t it?¡± Don¡¯t worry. The impact of a few tons of powerful acids seeping into the water table will be nothing compared to the environmental impact of the exotic weaponry Gomorrah has suggested. ¡°How very comforting,¡± I muttered. ¡°Are you ready?¡± Gomorrah asked. I nodded, then fixed my centre of gravity a little lower to make the flight easier. It wasn¡¯t too bad. My feet being pinned to the hood and my armour preventing me from being shifted around too much made the ride... almost comfortable. It was like surfing. Only I¡¯d never been surfing before, so I wasn¡¯t sure if the comparison actually worked. ¡°The biggest congregation of aliens is... about here,¡± Gomorrah said. We slowed down fairly gently, maybe three kilometres from the wall, just over the edge of the now-ruined city clinging to the edge of New Montreal. ¡°I think we can safely drop the bomb here.¡± I nodded along. ¡°Want to summon it, or should I?¡± Technically, it¡¯s me who¡¯s summoning it. Also, it¡¯s not technically a summon at all. With a slight whump of displaced air, a large boxy machine appeared next to me, then crunched down onto the hood. The Fury tipped to the side until Gomorrah corrected for it. ¡°My paint!¡± she said. ¡°Calm down,¡± I shot back as I took in the device. The damned thing was the size of a fridge, with dozens of those vents that could fold open all along the sides. It was all bare steel, thick as hell and unpainted. ¡°You can probably afford three new cars after today. Now how the hell does this work?¡± The temperature parameters are set. You just need to drop it down to ground level. ¡°Does it have a parachute?¡± I asked. Yes. ¡°Oh.¡± I shrugged, then grabbed the device from the sides. ¡°Keep the car even,¡± I said before shutting off the magnets holding me in place. With those off, I was able to lift the boxy machine with a grunt of effort, then I stomped to the side of the car and with a hard shove, tossed the bomb off the edge. A trio of chutes cracked open and the sorta-bomb started to gently fall towards the ground. ¡°That was easy,¡± I said. Then the Fury started to waver under me and I scrambled to get back to the magnets. ¡°What the hell?¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s just turbulence,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°From... maybe rising hot air?¡± I wasn¡¯t an expert, but I was pretty sure that wasn¡¯t a good thing. *** Chapter Sixty-Five - Raining Fried Chicken Chapter Sixty-Five - Raining Fried Chicken ¡°Right, I know you¡¯ve got a cool gimmick going on, and it is interesting, but just because you could maybe doesn¡¯t mean you should have... now, where exactly did you want me to slot your head?¡± --Recorded discussion between Dial-up and Lag, 2049 *** The... I supposed it wasn¡¯t technically a bomb--started to show its impact maybe a minute after it dropped. Gomorrah moved the Fury around so that we were hovering nearby, overlooking the drop-zone. The ground below was teeming with antithesis, thousands of them squirming around and doing their thing. I saw plenty of those worm models moving about while others broke into the homes and shops lining the streets and pulled out anything biological that they could use. The heat kept increasing, but it was a slow process. The first signs that it was working came from the advertisements on the shops nearest the heat bomb. They fritzed out and failed, colourful screens and hovering holograms shutting off at random. Then the paint started to peel on the cars abandoned along the road. One of them had its battery burst, and a gush of fire roared out from the bottom of the car, catching a few model threes off guard. Not that it hurt them much. I continued to watch as the aliens around the bomb started to back away from it. A few collapsed, and one eventually caught fire, but the flames didn¡¯t seem to last long. The heat continued to grow. Cars started to warp, their plastic bodies melting apart. Posters stuck onto the nearest streetlamp burst into flame. A few wires snapped, and glass exploded apart. A mirage started to appear over that entire part of the city, grey reflections shifting and making it hard to see the asphalt around the bomb turning liquid. ¡°Damn,¡± I said as I continued to watch. The bomb just kept going. I could see where the heat had travelled just by following its impact. The centre, nearest the bomb, had the most damage. One of the apartments next to it lit up from within. I imagined that the furniture inside was more flammable than the concrete exterior of the building was. A clothing store just half a block down turned into a roaring bonfire as everything within it combusted. The antithesis ran, but they weren¡¯t running fast enough. The heat was a perfect tool for killing them. Slow acting enough that they didn¡¯t seem to understand they were in danger until their eyes were melting and their flesh catching fire. Those big worms writhed on the ground, sinking into sticky asphalt. Model ones fell out of the air, wings going bright for the few seconds they burned. And then the first building collapsed. It was right across the street from the epicentre. A big commercial place, store on the ground, offices above, lots of glass and that sort of modern minimalist design that was so popular. Glass showered down across the city as the heat pushed on. It created an expanding ring of fire. Somehow, though, there was a circle that was following the ring where nothing burned but everything melted. I imagined that had something to do with chemicals or some scientific bullshit that I couldn¡¯t understand. ¡°This is working out pretty well,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m enjoying it,¡± Gomorrah said. I snorted. Of course she was. The pyromaniac was probably getting off on this. ¡°Is the heat going to stop before it causes trouble?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s already causing plenty of trouble. And I mean that in the sense that this is probably not good for the environment. But yes, we can shut it off before it reaches the gap.¡± I nodded. Then that was that. An entirely anti-climatic end to this whole ordeal. At least, it was from up in the air. I grinned as I watched the aliens scramble while melting. It must have been a whole lot different for them. ¡°We should head ba--¡± I began. Then the Fury rocked hard to one side and I swung my arms out to keep standing while the car shifted crazily beneath me. The car spun, losing altitude even as its engine roared to compensate. The loss didn¡¯t last long, soon we were levelling off and even rising back up a little. I checked the skies, looking for whatever had caused that. It wasn¡¯t hard to find. A huge bird was flapping its way higher, a big black thing that was covered in fine scales. A model eleven? ¡°You okay?¡± I asked Gomorrah as I pulled my bullcat from the small of my back. I wasn¡¯t sure I could nail the bird too easily, but I might be able to annoy it. I deployed my shoulder-mounted rails and let them track the alien through the air. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°Shit,¡± Gomorrah said. I braced. She wouldn¡¯t swear for no reason. My railguns both fired a split second before the Fury was thrown to the side. I cursed as I felt one foot come loose from the magnet holding it in place. Then I swore some more as I was left hanging perpendicular to the ground while the Fury was on its side. We were losing altitude, at least until Gomorrah snapped the car back straight. That sudden motion threw me back. ¡°Fucking fuck!¡± I screamed as I stepped back and into open air, dropping off of the hood. I wasn¡¯t entirely screwed. My jetpacks all went off at once, righting me in the air just in time for me to crash onto a rooftop with a hard jerk. My teeth clacked together and I was jarred pretty hard, but that was the worst of it. I glanced up and saw a model eleven clinging to the side of the Fury. ¡°This thing¡¯s going to scratch my paint!¡± Gomorrah complained. It had done worse than that already. One of the engines that allowed the car to float was ripped apart. I half expected sparks and some fire from the broken parts, but there wasn¡¯t anything of the sort. Guns unfolded from the Fury. First a pair of missiles raced out of the car and rammed into the model eleven above just as it was circling around. Then a flamethrower spun around and hosed the alien clinging onto the car¡¯s side until it let go and flew off. ¡°Where are you?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Rooftop, below,¡± I said. I glanced around, then worked my jaw. I found all the missing flying models I was wondering about earlier. Thousands of model ones were taking to the air, slipping out of windows and filling the sky along with dozens of model elevens. Had they been keeping low this entire time? A lot of them were heading my way, and from the heat I was feeling through my armour, it wasn¡¯t hard to guess why. ¡°Ah, shit, Gomorrah head back a bit. Keep an eye on the skies.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Do you think you can find a place where I can pick you up?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll find something,¡± I said as I started to run across the rooftop. I reached the edge and leapt off. My jumpjets hissed and I sailed over the gap between two buildings. I caught sight of a nearly empty street below. Just a few lingering aliens who glanced up to watch me slip by. ¡°Cat,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°They¡¯re heading our way.¡± The Fury rumbled past above me. The car usually purred as it moved but now that sound was replaced by a nasty grinding that I imagined meant the car would need fixing. I landed, still running, and spun around to see behind me. Gomorrah wasn¡¯t wrong. There was a whole flock of birds darting my way, enough to darken the skies. My railguns fired, pinning two model elevens in mid-flight. Only one of them had the common courtesy to die. I raised my bullcat and held down the trigger. Didn¡¯t need to aim when there were so many targets. The birds weren¡¯t my only problem though. I stared as the roof of the building I¡¯d been on caught fire. Catherine, I would suggest moving with a little more alacrity. You¡¯re right on the edge of the temperature range your armour can handle. ¡°Oh, come on,¡± I said as I spun around and took off sprinting. I didn¡¯t want to get eaten. I wanted to get cooked alive inside my armour even less. I shot over the gap between the building I was on and the next without even needing the boost from my jumpjets. My feet crunched on a gravel-covered rooftop and I turned hard to avoid a solar-panel set up in the middle of the rooftop. It was getting warmer. A black blur zipped past my head and I ducked, even if it was too late. The model one that had missed me crashed onto the ground next to me, dead, its feathers entirely cooked off. More of the little models started to plummet down around me, raining out of the sky. ¡°Gomorrah! It¡¯s raining fried chicken here and I¡¯m not liking it!¡± ¡°I found a spot,¡± she said and the Fury lowered itself a few buildings down. I just hoped I¡¯d make it. *** Chapter Sixty-Six - Move Faster Chapter Sixty-Six - Move Faster ¡°Q: Can you choose not to be a samurai? A: Yes and no. A Vanguard can choose to retire at any time. But removing the AI-brain-interface is impossible without harming the user. Q: What are some common mistakes samurai make at the beginning? A: Either over or under spending on points. Points are a resource, learning how to manage them is part of learning how to be an effective Vanguard. Q: How do AI view each other? A: Usually with cameras. Q: Since AI are artificial, are you afraid of dying? A: Humans are nothing more than lucky collections of star dust. Are you?¡± -- Curated Q&A with Lyvalis, one of the first Protector AI on Earth, 2026 *** I had three gaps to clear to get to Gomorrah. That meant two rooftops, then the one the Fury was currently parked on and waiting for me. The roof I was on at that very moment though, was melting. It was covered in those cheap flat panes of non-reflective solar panelling. The surface layer of plastic was turning sticky, and each step I took crunched as I broke through the solar cells. My shoulder-mounted guns spun around and fired behind me. I couldn¡¯t see what they were targeting, but I could hear it as bodies thumped onto the ground around me. You need to move faster if you wish to make it. ¡°Trying,¡± I grunted between gasps. I wanted to be a little more snarky than that, but snark required breath, and I was all out of that. The air was so hot and muggy that even with my suit doing what it could to regulate things it was still a chore to breathe. I came onto the first gap and lunged. My jumpjets fired off and I sailed across a narrow street, one leg coming up before me to make it so that I¡¯d land at a sprint. At that moment I had hanging in the air, I glanced down between the buildings. It was interesting to see what the mounting heat was doing. Some windows had burst open and raging fires were burning within, with tongues of flame kissing the sides of the buildings. Other spots looked nearly intact. Maybe the glass they had was tougher, or less likely to melt. Hundreds of AC units were melting out of the windows they were jammed into. Most were made of cheap plastic which could very much not endure the kind of heat we were putting on them. My foot met the next building and I kind of bounced a bit before I really took off. With a grunt, I vaulted over some vents and then cursed as I had to go around an animated billboard that was fritzing out hard. A couple of model ones slammed into the side of the board, cracking it more than it already was. My guns thumped again, and I shifted as I noticed the recoil pushing me forwards just a bit. ¡°What¡¯re you shooting?¡± You currently have several large flying models chasing after you. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. I ducked to the other side of the billboard, hopefully cutting off their line of sight for a bit. I paused, just to take a breath, but then one of those tower-AC units a few metres away from me burst into flames. A pipe burst on its side and it pissed fire all over. That was my signal to keep going. My armour was warming up a whole lot. Maybe too much, even. Disabling passive stealth systems. We don¡¯t need to hide your body warmth and I doubt anyone nearby will be able to hear your suit¡¯s cooling systems in your current predicament. I could hear my suit humming faintly. It didn¡¯t feel any cooler though. I grimaced and continued running. The next gap was easy. I cleared it with barely any help from the jumpjets. The next roof had a damned garden on it. Probably one of those stupid attempts to ¡®greenify¡¯ things. The plants within were smouldering already. They didn¡¯t even catch fire so much as they desiccated on the spot. I jumped again, fired a little spurt from my jump jets and used that to hop onto the top of the nearest greenhouse. It wasn¡¯t designed to carry my weight, and the metal being so hot that it was likely going soft didn¡¯t help any. Still, it collapsed in such a way that I fell in the right direction and was able to cartwheel my arms around to stay even. ¡°Graceful,¡± Gomorrah commented. If I wasn¡¯t out of breath I would have something snippy to tell her. I ran to the edge of the roof and jumped. All I had to do was land, then grab onto the Fury. We¡¯d move away, and I¡¯d be nice and safe. Maybe I could reposition myself on it further out. Or jump out of my armour and into the car itself once we were in a safer spot. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. With a grunt, I brought my legs up to clear the edge of the roof. Catherine! Above! My railguns fired, but it was just a little too late. My HISS activated with a scream, a last-second warning that I didn¡¯t know how to heed. Something heavy smacked into me. It wasn¡¯t a direct blow, but it knocked me out of my gentle arc and into a wild tumble. I saw a large feathered body falling past me, feathers on fire and body writhing. I crashed into and through a window--one of those with bars across the bottom to keep pigeons away--then I landed on my side in someone¡¯s living room. The couch was smoking, the TV was melting, and the carpet was on fire. ¡°Fuck!¡± I swore. ¡°Cat!¡± Gomorrah said. I heard a whine from above, the Fury moving. Was she leaving? I jumped to my feet, then winced. My armour¡¯s interior wasn¡¯t warm, it was scalding. I could feel the warmth pressing in on me. Use your points, please. ¡°Ice! A bomb.¡± A bomb appeared and immediately exploded in front of me. It sent a wave of white fumes racing across the room with a hiss, and I felt my armour cooling off even as frost covered the walls and floor. But only for a moment. The frost was melting off faster than it could spread. A whine just outside had me turning to see the Fury lowering itself down, passenger-side facing me. The door opened and Gomorrah gestured. ¡°Come on!¡± I didn¡¯t need to be told twice. I grabbed the edge of the window, placed a boot on the bottom sill, then jumped across the gap. I didn¡¯t fit through the door. Well, most of me didn¡¯t fit. My upper body did, and the moment my feet swung out below I kicked up and found something to push my foot against on the car¡¯s undercarriage while I held onto the passenger-side seat. The AC was blasting, I noted idly. Gomorrah used a few non-church-approved words and we shot upwards. The car sounded... off. I didn¡¯t know nearly enough about hovercars to say how, but I knew that a few things were busted with the Fury. ¡°That was stupid,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I agree,¡± I replied as I kept hugging the seat. ¡°Do you need to drive so fast?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± My railguns deployed, but not to shoot. Instead they reached up and pressed against the ceiling, giving me a couple more points of contact. That was only somewhat reassuring. Gomorrah was flying as if I wasn¡¯t hanging halfway out of her car, and while I trusted her, my trust in her was only a bit stronger than my grip on the carseat. ¡°Gom?¡± I asked. ¡°One second,¡± she said. We started to slow down, then I felt us dropping. There was a thumping from nearby, guns going off, and I winced as the Fury shook. An explosion had gone off nearby. ¡°Just the wall¡¯s anti-air,¡± she said. ¡°Thanks. I was dying to know,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m slipping Gomorrah.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she said. ¡°I think it¡¯s very not fine!¡± The car stopped and Gomorrah looked down at me. ¡°Cat.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°You can let go. We¡¯re hovering over the wall. It¡¯s a metre below us.¡± I paused, considered her words, then lowered my leg down until it hit something solid. ¡°Oh,¡± I said before I lowered my other foot and then let go of the seat. I was standing right atop the wall, just a couple of sections away from the gap, which had closed noticeably since we¡¯d left. Stepping back, I left room for Gomorrah to lower the Fury. Gomorrah stepped out of her car, then walked to the back and inspected the back where the steel was crumpled in. ¡°That¡¯s... that¡¯s not going to be easy to fix,¡± she said. I shook my head, then patted her on the shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s alright. We made plenty of points today, I¡¯m sure all the squished parts are replaceable.¡± ¡°Might as well replace the whole car,¡± she muttered. Then she rose up and shrugged. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll be getting a new one.¡± ¡°Wow. That was fast.¡± ¡°That was pragmatic,¡± she said before turning back towards where we¡¯d come from. The city was melting. Even from the wall I could trace the growing circle of destruction just from the spreading cloud of smoke on the inner edge and the crumbling buildings in the centre. ¡°We made a bit of a mess, haven¡¯t we?¡± ¡°Hmm. Not as satisfying as actual fire,¡± she said. *** Chapter Sixty-Seven - Becoming Strong Enough Chapter Sixty-Seven - Becoming Strong Enough ¡°How many samurai does it take to defend a city from an incursion? At least one. They just need to be strong enough.¡± --Menage a Trois, after the Quebec City Incursion of 2035 *** ¡°Now what?¡± I asked as I looked over the burning city. Gomorrah shifted. ¡°I¡¯ve turned off the heat generator. It¡¯ll still continue to spread for a while, but without an actual source, it should all slow down.¡± I nodded along. That was probably for the best. Didn¡¯t want to see New Montreal burning down because we¡¯d left the oven on. ¡°I¡¯m guessing all of this is going to have some sort of consequence, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°We might have found an effective way of wiping a hive out without too many horrible side-effects.¡± A shorter skyscraper nearer to the middle of the burn twisted, its frame, which was visible since the rest had burned off, bent like cooked spaghetti noodles under the weight of the rest of the building. The rumble didn¡¯t even reach us atop the wall. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure about the lack of side-effects,¡± I said. ¡°Oh, we¡¯ve destroyed half a city, sure, but there¡¯s no nuclear radiation, no dangerous biological matter, and once the area cools down in... a week or two, then it¡¯ll technically be inhabitable again. They might even be able to scrape off the melted metal and recycle some of it.¡± I hummed. ¡°Yeah, I get it. Can¡¯t imagine deploying this kind of thing all over the place though. Plus most hives will be underground, right?¡± Actually, hives in non-contested areas tend to be out in the open. Or nearly so. It makes it easier for antithesis drones to bring materials to the hive and for the hive itself to collect energy from the sun and wind. ¡°So, what, we burn the planet, root out the buried hives afterwards?¡± I asked. Only if you wish to make the planet¡¯s environment entirely uninhabitable. The heat bomb you deployed today will increase the planet-wide temperature for the day by a sizable fraction of a percent. Not enough to be directly dangerous, but if repeated it may be enough to destabilise the planetary ecology. ¡°We¡¯ll try not to burn the entire planet,¡± Gomorrah said. It didn¡¯t sound as reassuring as she hoped, not coming from an obvious pyromaniac. ¡°Why are you looking at me like that?¡± ¡°I¡¯m wearing a helmet, you can¡¯t see my expression,¡± I pointed out. ¡°I can read body language,¡± she said. ¡°And no, I won¡¯t burn down the planet just to see a big fire. I live on this planet. My favourite things are here. It¡¯s also, possibly, against my religion. Though I suppose that part¡¯s up to debate.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s not,¡± I said. There were few things I wanted less than that kind of debate. ¡°So... now what?¡± Gomorrah sighed. ¡°We call Laserjack and get an update on the situation? He should know more than we do about what¡¯s going on, or so I hope. Then we find the next fires to put out.¡± I nodded, then with a few flicks through my augs I set up a conference call with Laserjack, Gomorrah, myself and Crackshot Cowboy. He might have missed the last part at the end there, but he¡¯d done his share and in his shoes I wouldn¡¯t want to be left out of the loop. ¡°Uh, hi?¡± Crackshot said. He was the first to reply. ¡°Is everything alright?¡± ¡°We¡¯re fine,¡± I said. ¡°Back atop the wall. Just a bit warmed up.¡± That was an understatement. My armour was still smoking lightly. I think it was mostly just heat dissipating off the metal. ¡°Hah! I felt that from here. Regret not wearing my sunscreen today,¡± he said, rather jovially for someone talking about a city being lit up. Then again, I guess not being near the burn radius was a good enough reason to be in a good mood. The line clicked and Laserjack picked up. ¡°Hello,¡± he said. ¡°Sorry for the delay there, I... well, you can imagine how hectic things are.¡± ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°Hello,¡± Gomorrah replied. ¡°First, before anything else, I just want to thank you. That was a nice job out there,¡± he said. ¡°No problem,¡± I replied, smoothing over the fact that I¡¯d nearly cooked myself. ¡°Just happy to see the city a little safer.¡± ¡°Well, the city will appreciate it, I¡¯m sure,¡± he said. ¡°We had several countermeasures ready to go, but we¡¯ll be deploying those further away from the city now. Jolly Monarch¡¯s King drone is about to start a sweep around New Montreal. It should gain us a fair amount of space to work with.¡± If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Wait, do you mean that we didn¡¯t need to do that?¡± I asked. ¡°Cat¡¯s right, I was under the impression that things were dire,¡± Gomorrah said. Laserjack was quiet for a few seconds longer than I¡¯d expect before he replied. ¡°Honestly, no. Things were never that dire. The city has several decently high ranked samurai in it. Any one of us could have repelled the horde on our own. I¡¯m sorry if you were unaware. We should have made that clearer, it would prevent the possibility of taking greater risks.¡± ¡°Then why?¡± I asked. I couldn¡¯t decide if I was pissed or not. ¡°Because it gave you an opportunity to grow,¡± he said. ¡°The three of you and all the other low-tier samurai in New Montreal. You likely had the chance to earn more points today than in your entire career. With the global situation being what it is, we might all have to rely on one of you to protect an entire city. You need that head start and that added experience to be able to do that.¡± I crossed my arms, but I decided to be the bigger person about it and keep my anger in check, even if Laserjack was pouring water onto my head. ¡°Think of it as a quick way to grow. Plenty of new points, lots of opportunities to test new weapons and weapons platforms. Even whatever mistakes you made can now be corrected before you¡¯re being relied on to secure a city on your own. Gomorrah, Stray Cat, you¡¯re both well on your way to being tier-three samurai. I¡¯m afraid you haven¡¯t had quite as much time to grow, Crackshot cowboy, but your time will come.¡± ¡°Ah, uh, thanks, sir,¡± Jimothy said. ¡°Anyway. Get some rest. All three of you,¡± Laserjack said. ¡°I can¡¯t give you orders, but I can give you advice. You need rest. Things will get worse before they get better, so take the time you can now to catch up on sleep, to buy new gear, and to relax. You¡¯ll appreciate it later.¡± I glanced back and up. The sky was turning to night already. I hadn¡¯t noticed it, being so close to the glow of the city and with the many pillars of smoke obscuring the sky more than usual. ¡°So, we get a night off, huh?¡± I asked. ¡°No. A day. I¡¯ve seen your records, what¡¯s public at least. You¡¯ve been a samurai for barely more than a week, with no more than half a day of inaction in that entire time. Your AI hasn¡¯t flagged you for burn out or anything of the sort, so I imagine you could keep going for a while, but this global incursion might last longer than that and we don¡¯t need you losing your edge before things get really complicated.¡± Laserjack chuckled darkly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. There will be plenty more aliens to kill once you¡¯re done.¡± I wanted to argue. It would feel... wrong to stop. But then, yeah, I could use a day off. Just time with Lucy, with the kittens, getting used to the new place. I probably had enough points to furnish the whole home in expensive alien stuff. ¡°Thank you, Laserjack,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I, ah, I think I¡¯m going to stick with the PMCs for a bit,¡± Crackshot said. ¡°I haven¡¯t done as much as you two. My bit¡¯s not as big, so I won¡¯t get tired just yet. I can take it.¡± ¡°That seems reasonable for now, just remember to take a break before you break,¡± Laserjack said. ¡°Call me if there¡¯s anything. If I can¡¯t answer right away, well, the world¡¯s ending, but I¡¯ll call back as soon as I can.¡± And with that, the line went dead, at least with him. ¡°Nice fella,¡± Crackshot said. ¡°On that note, thank you ladies, but I¡¯ve got to run to keep up. I need a minute to buy a few things before we set out. See ya!¡± We said our quick goodbyes, then it was just me and Gomorrah. ¡°So,¡± I said. ¡°Yes,¡± Gomorrah said. She reached up, then paused before touching her mask. ¡°My god, I¡¯m going to have to talk to Franny.¡± I grinned. ¡°I¡¯m sure it won¡¯t be too bad,¡± I said. I didn¡¯t want to pry into my... best friend¡¯s love life... but I one-hundred percent wanted to pry. ¡°If you need help, Lucy¡¯s awesome with romance stuff. She¡¯s discreet too.¡± Which meant she wouldn¡¯t tell anyone but me. Gomorrah sighed. ¡°Want me to drop you off?¡± ¡°Did you want to drive out of your way so that it would take longer to get back home to confront Franny?¡± I asked. ¡°Shut up, Cat.¡± *** Chapter Sixty-Eight - Getting Home Chapter Sixty-Eight - Getting Home ¡°Samurai are horny bastards, I swear. I think it¡¯s all the action. It gets their blood pumping like nothing else.¡± -Madam Acrais, high-class brothel owner, 2045 *** I ended up figuring out my own way home. I wanted to ride along with Gomorrah, but there was no way my armour would fit in the Fury unless I hung off the side again and... no, I wasn¡¯t in the mood for that kind of thing. I did want to be close to Gomorrah. She was twitchy and a little worried, even after I tried to reassure her that everything would be fine. Some things a girl just had to tackle on her own though, that included confronting a possible romantic interest. I told Gomorrah that we had extra rooms over at my new place, and that she was always welcome to come over and spend the night, or even just call to rant if that¡¯s what she needed. I didn¡¯t want to be a poor friend, so I was going to support Gomorrah however I could. I just didn¡¯t want to overstep either. Franny seemed like a good match for Gomorrah, so maybe things would work out. At least, I hoped they would. Gomorrah deserved a good time, or maybe her own version of Lucy. Someone to ground her and for her to return home to. Speaking of which. I sighed as my bike came around and landed with a thump onto the top of the wall. I was a bit bulkier in my armour, so it was tricky to sit atop it, but I still managed to fit. I couldn¡¯t get my foot on the pedals without spreading my knees way out though, so I left the flying to the autopilot and Myalis. ¡°So,¡± I asked as we took to the air and headed towards New Montreal proper. A new shadow was cast against the suburbs from the massive new wall. ¡°What was all of that worth?¡± In terms of experienced gained, or in terms of something more quantifiable, like your point total? I chuckled. ¡°In terms of points, I think,¡± I said as we flew around a skyscraper. I noted that there wasn¡¯t quite as much traffic as usual. More cop cars hovering around too, but they dutifully ignored me as I flew by. Current Point Total: 98,845 I stared at the number for a while, then shook my head. ¡°Are you serious? Like, twelve hundred away from six-figures?¡± Had you expended less ammunition firing at the spaces between enemies you would have just enough points to reach one hundred thousand. My grip on the handles tightened. ¡°Yeah, fine. I''ll practice my aim. Maybe... maybe get one of those brain implants to learn how to aim. You¡¯ll need to work to convince me though.¡± Noted. If you want more points, you could turn around and fly back out of the city. It shouldn¡¯t be too difficult to find a small pocket of antithesis to wipe out. ¡°Nah. Laserjack was right, I need a break.¡± I could feel the weariness in my bones. So much adrenaline, for such a long period. I was burnt out. What I needed was a warm meal and about twelve hours of sleep. What I wanted was a cool room with Lucy¡¯s warm body and twelve hours in bed, most of which weren¡¯t spent sleeping. That¡¯s the kind of happy, buzzing thought I was entertaining as we flew around a skyscraper and came into view of home. I¡¯d kind of forgotten that my home was now a giant metal sphinx atop a stubbier skyscraper. The floor just below the sphinx was lined with turrets fixed to about a metre apart. Raccoon had been hard at work, it seemed. I flew around the building, then came down for a gentle landing between the building¡¯s forepaws. I swung off the back of the bike and straightened up. The city was plunging into night, but it wasn¡¯t much darker than midday. Neon ads were a sun of their own, splashing their RGB brightness across the city. I took it all in for a moment. This was, in a way, what I¡¯d worked to save. It didn¡¯t count nearly as much as what was in my home. With a bit of a pep to my step, I walked home. There was a shout as one of the kittens--Nose-- spotted me in the doorway. ¡°She¡¯s back! And she¡¯s not dead!¡± ¡°Hey! There¡¯s my favourite bunch of assholes,¡± I cheered. ¡°One of you needs to toss something in the microwave for me, I¡¯m starving.¡± My armour made it hard to be bowled over, but the kittens gave it a good try anyway. It was mostly the youngest ones. Junior and Katallina were old enough that that kind of display was not going to happen. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Glad to see you didn¡¯t die,¡± Junior said. ¡°Thanks, I worked hard not to,¡± I shot back. ¡°What have you been up to?¡± ¡°Eh, we¡¯ve been watching you and the others fighting. There¡¯s a livestream. But it got boring so we started watching AI-generated Spongebob episodes instead,¡± Junior said. I laughed. ¡°Yes, I can see why that would be more interesting than seeing the person paying your rent, fight not to die.¡± She shrugged, clearly showing what she thought of that. ¡°Where¡¯s Lucy at?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh, she¡¯s in the back,¡± one of the Twins said. ¡°With the big machine.¡± Lucy was playing with the creation machine? I suppose that giving that woman unlimited creative power was one way to keep her busy for a few minutes. ¡°Alrighty then,¡± I said. I gave some heads a few pats, then stood off to the side and started to undo my armour while fielding questions from the kittens. Mostly it was about new gear, celebrities I¡¯d met, and I got to sneak in a few surprisingly un-exaggerated stories of killing aliens that I thought sounded pretty badass. ¡°Okay, don¡¯t touch the armour, it¡¯s still a little hot. And it¡¯s also kind of screwed up. I give it even odds that if one of you climbs into it, it¡¯ll lock up and we won¡¯t be able to get you out of there without a saw.¡± That wasn¡¯t entirely or even partially true, except for the part where the armour was in a rough state. A few scratches were more than paint-deep, and it looked like some of the padding on the inside had melted outright. I might have to toss the whole thing into the printer¡¯s deconstruction bin. I bet there were plenty of exotic materials in the armour that might be useful for other crap later. Tossing my coat onto one of the couches, I walked up to the back of our home and to the vault where the printer was. Lucy was there, sitting on a stack of neatly-piled material blocks with a tablet sitting on her knee. ¡°Hey,¡± I said from the doorway. She jumped and looked up to me, and in that instant I saw unfamiliar stress lines fading from the corners of her eyes. ¡°Cat!¡± she shouted before darting across the room. I laughed and met her halfway with a tight hug. ¡°I missed you,¡± I said. She hugged me tighter, then pulled back. Her eyes darted across my features, taking me in. ¡°Are you okay?¡± she asked. ¡°Tired,¡± I admitted. It wouldn¡¯t do to lie to Lucy, she¡¯d just find out and be disappointed. ¡°I really did miss you. It was a long day.¡± ¡°No injuries?¡± she asked. Then her hands roamed, but not in a pleasant way, she was just checking to see if I was all there. ¡°Wait, this isn¡¯t the same arm.¡± ¡°Oh, right, this is new,¡± I said with a grin. I raised my new cybernetic hand, then turned on one of its primary features. The room filled with a low buzz. ¡°It vibrates.¡± Lucy shook her head. I could tell she was amused, but she pushed past that anyway. ¡°What happened to your other one?¡± ¡°Well... my old armour wasn¡¯t up to snuff. I got newer, better armour, but the arm was damaged so... yeah.¡± The whole story would come out, but I wasn¡¯t ready for that. Lucy, being Lucy--which just meant that she was perfect--caught on. ¡°We¡¯ll have to put the new arm through its paces then. Technically, you¡¯re... one sixth virgin now, you know?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s how it works,¡± I said with a laugh. ¡°What have you been up to? Making stuff?¡± Lucy nodded, then skipped back away from me. That almost ended when she tripped over nothing and had to swing her arms for balance. She, of course, pretended that didn¡¯t happen, then struck a pose. ¡°What do you think?¡± she asked. She was in a t-shirt with a very low hem, almost a nightgown, really. The front said ¡®Cat¡¯s Got My Tongue¡¯ with a stylized cat head behind it. She was also wearing thick white thigh-highs that stopped a handspan above her knee, right at the thickest part of her thigh. There was a very delicious thigh squish at the top. ¡°I made both of these,¡± she said with a bit of a wiggle added. ¡°That¡¯s really nice,¡± I said, honestly. She bounced over, then pulled me down a little so that she could whisper in my ear. ¡°I was going to make lingerie, but you¡¯re here already, so these two things are all I made... and all I¡¯m wearing too.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± I said. God, I loved Lucy. *** Chapter Sixty-Nine - Nice Chapter Sixty-Nine - Nice ¡°Look, I¡¯m not a conspiracy nut, but this whole thing with the mass, world-wide incursion? Something''s fishy about it. Where are all the big-name samurai? Where are the really strong samurai who can wipe out an incursion solo? A bunch of them are supposed to be around Mars. Which, alright, fine, they¡¯re samurai, they¡¯ll go into space and do space samurai stuff, whatever. Now why haven¡¯t any of them come back? And why are so many more of them leaving? You know what I think? I think they¡¯ve built a new home for themselves up there. They know Earth¡¯s screwed, so they just up and left. Cowards!¡± --Live comment section of live-world-news-streaming.com, 2057 *** Lucy and I left the room with the matter printer with rather goofy smiles on. I didn¡¯t particularly care. Lucy was clinging to my side, almost hanging off of me for support while I absently tucked my shirt back in with my free hand. We hadn¡¯t done anything too fun, just a lot of handsy stuff and some kissing. Good kissing. Non-pg-13 kissing. ¡°We don¡¯t have a bedroom,¡± Lucy said suddenly. ¡°We don¡¯t?¡± I asked. I distinctly remembered a room being for us to sleep in. ¡°Well, okay, we do, but we don¡¯t have a bed in our bedroom. Which I think means that it¡¯s technically just a ¡®room¡¯ and not much else.¡± She grinned up at me. ¡°Unless you want to sleep on the floor? I¡¯d be down for that, but like, as a one-time thing.¡± I laughed and wrapped an arm around Lucy¡¯s back to pull her closer into my side. Then, because her head was close, I planted a kiss on her forehead. I regretted it when a curly lock of Lucy¡¯s hair got caught on my lips and I had to pull my face away to get it off. Lucy, at least, thought that was hilarious. ¡°So, I was checking things out, and I¡¯m pretty sure we can buy enough furniture for the whole place for fairly cheap. You know the matter machine will create blueprints of anything you throw into it? We only need to buy one bed per kitten and then we can print out new ones for all the rest. I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s piracy of some sort, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll stop us.¡± ¡°That¡¯s an idea,¡± I said. ¡°Or we could just buy everything we need from Myalis. I think I can afford a furniture catalogue.¡± There are quite a few of those available. Some are relatively inexpensive. Most human furniture isn¡¯t exactly mechanically complex. I nodded along. ¡°There you have it,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis can get you whatever you need. I bet she can send things to your augs if you ask nicely.¡± Do you wish for Lucy to be allowed to make purchases in your stead? ¡°That¡¯s allowed?¡± I asked. No, but I can do it anyway. Technically, she¡¯d need to ask your permission for every item, but we both know you¡¯d just say yes to anything she asks for. I do suggest that you set a reasonable budget. Both to keep spending in check and to encourage creativity when it comes to point expenditure. What followed was a couple of hours of Lucy running around all over our new home, at first while gesturing all over, then later with a tablet in hand. She went from broad-strokes to making small, minute changes. Judging by the smile she carried and the contagious excitement that was infecting the kittens, the whole place would be entirely different in a few hours. I decided to leave her to it and quietly excused myself to go to our--now somewhat furnished--bedroom. I needed a bit of time to think. I wasn¡¯t an introspective sort of person, which I think was rather obvious, but the last day or so had been so insanely busy that I had a hard time just keeping track of everything that had happened. The meeting with the other samurai, which happened just after Gomorrah and I were tossed out of Deus Ex¡¯ space station, was just last night. After that, everything was sort of a blur. The meeting with the other samurai led by Laserjack, then Gomorrah and I ran off to that giant gardening place, I could vividly remember not-nuking the place. Then... dinner with Gomorrah and Franny and Lucy in our new home. The next morning, I¡¯d run off to help Jolly Monarch hold off a wave until Grasshopper needed help with the caravan. What had happened after that? The group of survivalists next to that one nuclear reactor factory? Were they even still alive? Gomorrah and I had left soon after to protect the gap in the wall. That building coming down around me... that was going to be in a nightmare or two. I still had to find the asshole who¡¯d dropped those shells on my position and give them a piece of my mind. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Had it only been one day? I think I¡¯d experienced more trauma in twelve hours than most people dealt with in a lifetime. ¡°Being a samurai¡¯s kind of fucky, isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked. It is. Though you are living in very interesting times. Things will inevitably calm down, and you''ll be able to enjoy the fruit of your labours. ¡°The fruits of my labours, huh? Mostly I¡¯m just smashing things and hoping I don¡¯t get smashed in turn.¡± I flopped backwards onto the bed and stared at the ceiling while I sank into the mattress. Maybe things weren¡¯t so bad. Lucy was happy. The kittens were safe. I¡¯d do my part to make sure she stayed happy and that they were even safer. I had the resources to spare. I lacked some time, sure, and training, but... well, maybe that was something I¡¯d finally get around to fixing. I closed my eyes and was just considering sleeping--the fact I was still in dirty clothes be damned--when the door burst open and Lucy rushed in. ¡°Cat!¡± she cheered. ¡°I¡¯m done!¡± With that, she jumped onto the bed, knees on either side of my hips and lowered herself close. ¡°I¡¯m done!¡± I laughed, then reached up and pulled her into a hug. ¡°Good. I needed a pillow,¡± I said. ¡°Cat! No! I wanted to show you around!¡± She squealed as I rolled over and pulled her down with me. ¡°But I can explore the place later,¡± I muttered. ¡°What if I want to explore you right now?¡± Lucy squirmed. ¡°Cat, you¡¯ve explored every inch of me before, you won¡¯t find anything new.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± I said. ¡°I always find a new thing to be amazed at.¡± I reached around her waist and pinched her side, not hard, just enough to grab onto the slight love handles she had. ¡°Look at what I¡¯ve discovered here? It¡¯s beautiful. Worthy of worship.¡± She grabbed me by the lapels and pulled me up. She wasn¡¯t strong enough to really force me higher, but I helped her along. ¡°I guess I should give New Montreal¡¯s big hero a bit of a reward, shouldn¡¯t I?¡± she whispered. ¡°Hmm? I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t think I want to be a hero.¡± Lucy looked at me, then pulled me into a hug that was a lot more comforting than it was erotic. ¡°That¡¯s okay too,¡± she said. ¡°How about you be Cat, and I¡¯ll be Lucy, and the kittens can be annoying brats, and we¡¯ll pretend that the rest doesn¡¯t matter as long as we¡¯re here?¡± I grinned. ¡°I think I¡¯d like that. Never thought you¡¯d be one to suggest roleplay though.¡± Lucy snorted, indelicate and definitely not lady-like. ¡°Please, if we were doing roleplay it would be a lot more involved. I¡¯m talking costumes and like, an entire storyline. You¡¯d need to memorise lore.¡± ¡°Oh? Maybe we can do the brave samurai saving the poor, helpless girl from some scary monsters?¡± Lucy nodded. ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll be the brave samurai, you be helpless.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound hard. I would be helpless without you.¡± She gasped. ¡°Catherine! That actually sounded kind of smooth. Is Myalis feeding you lines?¡± ¡°There weren¡¯t any cat puns, so you know she wasn¡¯t,¡± I said. Lucy giggled, and soon we shifted around so that she was at my back, hugging me close while we basically spooned. It was warm and just... nice. Then, of course, Nose barged into the room. ¡°Hey! If you two aren¡¯t too busy, there¡¯s this weird chick that just got here.¡± ¡°What?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s just... really weird. Said her name was Grasshopper. Might be a samurai. Or a nutjob.¡± ¡°Goddamnit,¡± I swore as I jumped to my feet, then I pulled Lucy up to hers. I gave her a quick peck on the cheek, before rushing to the door. ¡°Come on! You¡¯re going to want to meet her. She¡¯s nice, if a little loony. Did she say what she was here for?¡± ¡°She said you needed a nanny,¡± Nose said before running down the corridor and leaping the steps to the floor below. I think I might have been cursed to not have a minute to myself. *** Epilogue Epilogue Grasshopper was keenly aware that the flimsy front door of Stray Cat¡¯s home couldn¡¯t hold her back. Still, being a samurai was, in her opinion, less about strength and more about knowing when to use that power. Too many samurai forgot that they weren¡¯t all that different from the average man or woman on the street. So, being a polite neighbour and friend, Grasshopper stopped by the door and knocked. Stray Cat¡¯s home didn¡¯t have a doorbell. She imagined that the young samurai was so busy making her house look like a giant cat that she might have forgotten to add something to let people know she had guests over. Or, maybe that was on purpose. Grasshopper had had to deal with all sorts of rude, unwanted, and rudely-unwanted guests, especially when she was newer to the job. Her house wasn¡¯t a gigantic cat sitting atop a skyscraper, which afforded her a bit more privacy. Eventually someone passed by the door on the other side and stopped. It was a young woman, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. She stared at Grasshopper who waved, then the young lady turned and screamed something to someone deeper in the home. Grasshopper had turned down her audio-devices, the systems that allowed her to see through walls, and even her tracking systems. Privacy was a valuable commodity, and even if no one knew that Grasshopper could violate theirs, it was still rude to do so. It took a minute, but eventually the girl was joined by another who looked to be about the same age. They chatted, looked to Grasshopper, then walked over and opened the door. ¡°Who¡¯re you?¡± the first girl asked. ¡°Hello! I¡¯m Grasshopper! But you can call me Miss Hopper.¡± The girls looked at each other, then back at Grasshopper. She imagined that some of the confusion came from how she was dressed. She really loved her outfit. It was a woman¡¯s business suit done up in dark blue with big happy green grasshoppers with itty-bitty guns all over it. She had a big bag too, one of those old medicine-bags with an umbrella hooked across the top. It was very similar to the kind of outfit she used to wear at the elementary school she worked at, but the grasshoppers on this one moved. ¡°Alrighty, then, Miss Hopper,¡± one of the girls said. ¡°You know this is Stray Cat¡¯s place, yeah?¡± ¡°I was counting on it.¡± Grasshopper grinned and she hoped it came out as more sweet than weird. ¡°Can you tell Cat that I¡¯m here?¡± ¡°You know her?¡± the other girl asked. ¡°We worked together a few times,¡± Grasshopper said. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re a samurai?¡± the first girl asked. She narrowed her eyes. ¡°Prove it.¡± ¡°Oh, I can do that!¡± Grasshopper said. She raised a hand and was about to ask her AI to buy something small when the girl pipped up. ¡°Buy a knife.¡± ¡°A knife?¡± Grasshopper asked. The girl nodded. ¡°A cool one.¡± ¡°Knives are dangerous,¡± Grasshopper said. The girl shrugged. ¡°So¡¯s living.¡± Grasshopper couldn¡¯t refute that logic. ¡°Okay, but only a small one,¡± she said. With a few stray thoughts to her friendly AI a box was summoned into her open hand with some sparkles and little pops of glitter. The girls stared. ¡°When Cat summons shit it doesn¡¯t do that.¡± ¡°I pay extra for the effects!¡± Grasshopper said, rather proud of the fact. The glitter settled (it was designed not to stick and to be entirely biodegradable within under a year) and Grasshopper opened the box, revealing a little army knife. ¡°It has a knife, two sporks, a little flashlight, and a compass.¡± ¡°Neat!¡± the first girl said. She plucked the knife out of the box and they toyed around with it. Finally, after a moment of obvious reluctance, she gave it to the other girl. ¡°Cat gave me a knife already, so you know, fair¡¯s fair.¡± Grasshopper had to suppress a joyful clap. Sharing! ¡°Anyway, come on in, Cat¡¯s with Lucy. Bet they¡¯re banging while thinking they¡¯re being all subtle about it.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Grasshopper asked as she stepped in. ¡°Is that a common occurrence?¡± She made a mental note to add sex-ed to her lesson plan. That hadn¡¯t come up much when she was teaching in elementary school, but Cat¡¯s kittens seemed to cover a wider range of ages. ¡°Cat thinking she¡¯s subtle? Yeah, that happens often enough,¡± the girl said. ¡°I¡¯m Junior, by the way. This is Katallina.¡± ¡°Hello!¡± Katallina said. She¡¯d pocketed the knife already. A dog padded over to them and Grasshopper was momentarily distracted from snooping around since there was a dog and she had to let it sniff her hand and then he let her scritch its tummy and mostly Grasshopper was too busy for the next couple of minutes to take care of other things. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. That was, until she noticed she was drawing a bit of a crowd. ¡°Oh, sorry,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± Katallina said. ¡°Catkiller seems to like you.¡± Grasshopper made note of the dog''s name, and also that Stray Cat had a dog called Catkiller in her house. She stood up and, with much determination and self-reminders that she was a grown woman, she pretended not to notice the way Catkiller¡¯s tail stopped thumping as she stopped rubbing his tummy. ¡°That¡¯s nice. Is everyone here?¡± she asked. The living space in the centre of Stray Cat¡¯s home was rather open, with a large wrap-around couch and a hovering television in the centre of the room which was definitely not human-tech. She liked it. The space was open and roomy, and she noticed that most of the doors surrounding it led into little bedrooms that were personalised a bit. ¡°Yeah, everyone that counts,¡± a young man said. He was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed and brows furrowed. He was also, she noted, poking at her aug¡¯s security measures. It was a little bit rude, like a mosquito poking its big stingy nose against the side of a battleship, looking for a way to push through the armoured hull. ¡°Wonderful!¡± Grasshopper said. She clapped her hands together and smiled big and bright. ¡°I¡¯m Miss Hopper, or Grasshopper, whichever you prefer. People refer to me as ¡®she,¡¯ ¡®her,¡¯ and ¡®oh god oh god where are those shots coming from.¡¯ Starting today I¡¯ll be your self-appointed volunteer teacher and instructor.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a teacher?¡± one of the smaller kids asked. She nodded. ¡°Fully certified and everything,¡± she said. She kept her teacher¡¯s certificate next to her literal licence to kill. ¡°Hey, Nose, might wanna go get Cat,¡± the older boy said. ¡°Just in case, yeah?¡± One of the kittens jumped to his feet and ran up the stairs. Stairs which lacked appropriate railings, but Grasshopper wasn¡¯t here to inspect the place for that kind of thing. ¡°School¡¯s boring,¡± One of the kids said. ¡°You¡¯re right!¡± Grasshopper agreed. ¡°But I¡¯m not here for school lessons, I¡¯m here to teach! Boring classroom lessons have their place, but when you¡¯re learning one-on-one, you can learn so much more!¡± ¡°Oh, shit, it really is you,¡± a familiar voice said from the top of the stairs. Stray Cat walked down the steps with a careless slunk. She had a strange way of walking, almost liquid, but also a little janky. Grasshopper wasn¡¯t surprised that she¡¯d earned the name Stray Cat, it suited her perfectly. ¡°What¡¯re you doing here, and what are you wearing?¡± ¡°This is my teaching outfit, and I¡¯m here to teach,¡± Grasshopper said. Stray Cat blinked slowly, and Grasshopper smiled without showing her teeth. When a cat blinked slowly it was a sign of trust, after all. ¡°Oh, okay. Yeah, I guess the kittens could use some schooling.¡± ¡°Hello!¡± a chipper young lady said as she came down the stairs. Stray Cat turned and met her halfway down, then guided her to the main floor. It seemed an entirely unconscious gesture that neither of them really noticed, but it warmed Grasshopper¡¯s heart. ¡°You must be Lucy!¡± Grasshopper said. ¡°Aw! Did Cat talk about me?¡± the young woman asked. She was clearly quite curious, which was one of Grasshopper¡¯s favourite qualities in a new friend. She was also not wearing any underthings, which Grasshopper wasn¡¯t sure how she should feel about. ¡°Nothing bad, I hope?¡± She tried to tampen down on any blushing as she shook her head. ¡°Nope, I¡¯m afraid it was nothing but good things from her. I think... and pardon me if I give up the secret here, but I think she might be in love.¡± Lucy giggled, her laughter brightening up the room while Stray Cat glared weakly at Grasshopper. ¡°I might have noticed,¡± Lucy said. ¡°She keeps giving me these looks. She¡¯s not exactly subtle, you know?¡± Grasshopper nodded along. ¡°I noticed as much, yes.¡± ¡°Alright, alright, enough bullying me in my own home. You¡¯re here to bully some knowledge into the kittens, right? Like, math and history and English and such?¡± ¡°Oh, not just the kittens,¡± Grasshopper said. ¡°You too! Your education seems a little lacking. But don¡¯t worry, my lessons are always super interesting.¡± She bent down, opened her big bag, and pulled out a rocket launcher. ¡°I was thinking we could start with chemistry, trigonometry, and physics!¡± She had a lot to teach, and only so much time, but it was okay. The more fun a lesson was, the more it stuck! *** Interlewd Four Interlewd Four Franny was waffling back and forth between being more angry than she¡¯d ever been before and worrying herself sick. The roiling emotions were twisting around in her gut, and she was pretty sure that if she continued to feel this way, she¡¯d be sick. The church was too calm, which didn¡¯t help. Earlier in the day she had chores to do, tasks that she could focus on to the detriment of all else so that she could push her worries back. The people Delilah--Gomorrah, she supposed--had saved from the sewers still needed help getting sorted, then the massive incursion had started and the church got to work sorting supplies and getting ready to provide a few temporary shelters. Those shelters had remained empty for the moment. The incursion had, according to what she¡¯s read, been stopped at the walls. Delilah had been there, risking her life against overwhelming odds. Franny had stared at too many drone-cam videos of the waves of aliens charging the gap in the walls. She¡¯d even seen Delilah¡¯s flames burning them down. They were hard to miss. Then the call. Franny wanted to punch Delilah in the nose. She stomped through the church, past a few senior nuns who gave her space and then through the familiar corridors of the great building that had been her home and school her entire life. The worry twisted in her gut again, and this time she wasn¡¯t sure if it was just her worrying about Delilah¡¯s safety or if it was more worry about the damnable call. It hadn¡¯t lasted long. Delilah had overridden all of Franny¡¯s questions, which she supposed was fair. Delilah was a samurai now, she wasn¡¯t the cute bumbling girl that followed Franny around like a lost puppy anymore, she was so much more than just that now, even if Franny missed that about her best friend. Then Delilah had told Franny that she might die, and that she might, maybe, be in love with her. ¡°Where are you going, young mis--¡± Sister Margaret froze as Franny locked eyes with her. The older woman might have clued into the naked mix of conflicting feelings Franny was freely wearing. In either case, she shut up, picked up her habit skirts and walked off in a hurry. Franny closed her hands into fists, then looked around for a place to calm down. She had a bad reputation with the sisters already for being something of a hothead and for disregarding quite a few rules. Usually for good reason, but that didn¡¯t always excuse her. When she was younger she¡¯d gotten her share of switchings for her attitude. Now she was older and strong enough that last time they¡¯d tried, she¡¯d stolen the switch and given Sister Maeve a real reason to complain. Grumbling to herself, Franny opened one of the doors in the corridor and peeked within. It was one of the classrooms, one she recognized. They¡¯d done math in here once. The room had a few rows of old presswood desks and windows that would have overlooked the city if they weren¡¯t covered in a blurry film. Franny shut the door behind her, then she stood by the front of the room and focused on breathing. ¡°Delilah,¡± she whispered. The name came out of her with both frustration and longing. She loved Delilah. Of course she did. For years they were the best of friends. She¡¯d defended and helped Delilah countless times. They gossiped together, they pulled pranks together, they¡¯d cried on each other¡¯s shoulders and they had both seen enough of each other¡¯s most embarrassing moments to write entire books about them. Did she love Delilah though? Franny growled and kicked the teacher¡¯s desk with her very not-nun-like steel-toed combat boots. Right then, she didn¡¯t have any sort of love for her blonde friend. ¡°What kind of bitch drops that kind of bomb on someone before jumping to their death,¡± she grumbled as she opened up a news site on her augs. There was a site dedicated to tracking samurai-related news in and around New Montreal. They¡¯d announced the death of Nomad earlier. Franny was dreading the idea of seeing an article about Gomorrah on there. She didn¡¯t know what she¡¯d do if that was how she learned that Delilah was dead. She had some passing worry for Gomorrah¡¯s new weirdo of a friend too, that Stray Cat girl who was clearly insane and probably not the best influence on Gomorrah. Had the confession been her idea? That woman was a raging lesbian if Franny ever saw one. She¡¯d kick her ass too, if she could. Once, not so very long ago, she thought of samurai as basically saints. She hadn¡¯t realized how much of the church''s coolaid she had drunk until Delilah became one herself. It was hard to think of someone as a saint when you had vivid memories of that person as a preteen waking you up at two AM because they¡¯d had an accident and needed help covering it up. Franny paused, then she kicked the desk again. It felt good. There was no news about Gomorrah. She groaned. Was it better to have no news than to find bad news waiting for her? She didn¡¯t know, and she didn¡¯t want to find out. The door clicked, and Franny spun around, an excuse on her tongue already. She had just kicked the desk a few times. She might have been frustrated, but she understood that it was a little immature. Then Delilah stepped into the room and gently closed the door behind her. Her friend wasn¡¯t in her samurai gear. It was a strange detail to notice, but Franny couldn¡¯t miss it. Delilah was in one of the skirts Franny had bought for her. A knee-length dark blue thing that showed off her calves in a way that had made the sisters look on disapprovingly before Delilah became Gomorrah. She had a blouse on, which was sticking to her skin, especially around her shoulders where Delilah¡¯s wet hair was draped down. The blouse was part of their old uniform, with a little necktie and all, though Delilah had left it undone. Franny stared at her best friend and Delilah, in turn, stared at the floor. She stepped up to Delilah, then without thinking, slapped her friend across the face. Then, with a suppressed sob, she hugged Delilah close, squeezing her for all she was worth. They stood there for a while. Franny holding Delilah close and soaking in her presence. The worry was bleeding off of her, she could almost feel the knots in her gut untangling as she held onto her friend. Delilah¡¯s scent filled Franny. It was so familiar, so nice and... Franny stepped back from Delilah just as Delilah¡¯s hands started to hug her back. She stared at her friend, who was finally daring to meet her eyes. There was a red mark on Delilah¡¯s cheek, but she wasn¡¯t moving to touch it. Franny imagined that it stung. She squashed the guilt. ¡°So?¡± she asked. Delilah blinked. ¡°So?¡± she repeated. Delilah, for all that she was a bit of a shrinking violet sometimes, had really taken to the lessons they had about good posture and form, and her voice rang out with an authoritative tone. Franny knew better than to just listen to Delilah¡¯s voice to read her. The trick was her friend¡¯s eyes, they might as well be signboards telling the world what Delilah was really thinking. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. At least, they were for Franny. Franny stared at Delilah, and there was no missing the massive amount of guilt her friend was feeling. Worse, there was an unhealthy heaping of worry there. Franny didn¡¯t have to guess why. Delilah had just confessed before running off to maybe die. Obviously, she was fine. Probably. She had all of her limbs and didn¡¯t look hurt. The smack on her face notwithstanding, Delilah looked okay. She might have had some other injuries, and Franny would have no way of knowing with the way she was covered up, but... No, Delilah wouldn¡¯t confront Franny if she was injured. Delilah didn¡¯t like confrontations like this one. She wouldn¡¯t avoid them forever, but being injured was enough of an excuse that she¡¯d take it and know that Franny wouldn¡¯t judge her for it. It was a weird twist of logic, but it felt right to Franny. So she crossed her arms and glared at her best friend, her sister in all but blood, the girl she¡¯d go to hell and back for, and who had just.. ¡°Care to explain yourself?¡± Delilah winced. It was just a tightening in the corner of her eyes, but it meant a lot. ¡°I... Franny, I didn¡¯t know if I would make it. Things were looking bad and. And I decided not to die with one more regret in my life. It was selfish. I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°You¡¯re sorry?¡± Franny snapped. She took a deep breath in, and Delilah remained silent. She knew Franny well enough to know that that had just been her venting a little. ¡°Fine. So you¡¯re sorry. Did you mean it?¡± Franny asked. Delilah glanced down, then forced herself to meet Franny¡¯s eyes. Her cheeks now both had a slight tinge of redness to them. ¡°Yes. I think. I... I don¡¯t know, but I think so.¡± Franny raised one of her eyebrows, the sort of judgemental looks the senior nuns were very good at. ¡°Alright, tell me again.¡± ¡°Really, Franny?¡± Delilah asked. Franny nodded. ¡°Yes, really. I want us to be on the same page here.¡± Delilah swallowed, closed her eyes for a moment, then shifted slightly to work off some of her nervous energy. Then she took a calming breath and met Franny¡¯s gaze. ¡°I love you,¡± she said. They stared at each other for a long time, the three words floating in the air between them, spoken and impossible to take back. Franny felt her face warming up. She knew that her freckles would make any amount of blushing she did very obvious. Delilah¡¯s cheeks weren¡¯t any better. So Franny decided to switch the focus to something else. ¡°Since when are you gay?¡± she asked. Delilah stiffened a little. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I am?¡± she asked. Franny blinked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I talked to Atyacus about, well,¡± Delilah made a vague gesture between them. She seemed as glad about the change in subject as Franny felt. Then her words registered and Franny felt a pang in her heart. Delilah came to her when she needed to talk about stuff. That was their thing. They¡¯d talk about their problems, about their silly dreams, they¡¯d gossip and complain together while huddled up on the church¡¯s roof, or in the kitchens when no one else was around. Franie supposed that she shouldn¡¯t be too hurt. Delilah could hardly come to her to talk about feeling... that way about her. That would have been strange. And the AI stuck in her brain was as good a candidate as any for sharing things with, Franny supposed. It still stung a little. ¡°What did he say?¡± Franny asked. Delilah licked her lips, the motion catching Franny¡¯s attention for a moment. ¡°He said that, well, he can see my brain chemistry. And my augs allow him to see out of my eyes. I don¡¯t think I¡¯m gay?¡± Franny blinked. ¡°You are aware that I¡¯m a woman, right?¡± ¡°Yes, I¡¯m very aware,¡± Delilah said. ¡°I think he just said that, I guess the term would be more, something akin to being attracted to, well, you, more than just women in general.¡± Delilah glanced away after that particular confession. Franny worked her jaw. She wasn¡¯t sure what to say to that. It was flattering, certainly. She pretended not to feel the fluttering in her stomach. ¡°I... I¡¯m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,¡± Delilah said. ¡°I can go, if you want. I know it¡¯s a lot to spring on you, I shouldn¡¯t have--¡± ¡°No,¡± Franny said. She sighed. ¡°Damn. You know I¡¯d rather know this than not, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, I know you,¡± Delilah said. She smiled over to Franny. Just another, normal smile, like Franny had seen from Delilah a million times. Somehow though, this one made her feel different. ¡°Yeah, you do,¡± Franny said. There was a long silence. It wasn¡¯t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn¡¯t great either. Franny knew herself too. She was... probably not the ideal nun. She was by far too violent, too impulsive by half, and she cared more about helping people than preaching. She was also, she was willing to admit to herself, a little bit attracted to women. She stared Delilah up and down. Her friend was... well, frankly, Delilah was unfairly attractive. Franny liked women, she loved Delilah like a sister. There wasn¡¯t much of a leap to make to go from one idea to the other, smash them together, and make Delilah very happy. Franny wasn¡¯t sure if she wanted to take that step. Or maybe she wanted to but was worried of what it would mean for her, and for Delilah. Worse, things had... changed. Franny wasn¡¯t sure she wanted to admit it to herself, but if Delilah had confessed just a month or two ago, before Delilah became a samurai, things would be different. A month ago, Delilah still needed Franny. Franny was her protector and friend and more. Had Delilah approached her then, then Franny could imagine herself teasing and prodding and seeing how far they could go. The idea that it was forbidden wasn¡¯t much of a deterrent for her. If anything, it made things more exciting. Now... Now Delilah was the boss, and that made things different in a way that Franny still hadn¡¯t gotten used to. Unless. Franny swallowed. She had a very bad idea. That had never stopped her from carrying out an idea before, though.

Hi! It''s me, RavensDagger! This one has art, so you really should check it out on Patreon! So, because Royal Road moved onto Apple and Google''s platforms, it doesn''t allow lewd content anymore. for that reason... well, the lewd part of this interlewd was moved off site. But it''s okay! You can read it, entirely for free, on my patreon. Link right here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/91220109 Chapter One - Good Investments Chapter One - Good Investments Was spending some precious points on a kiddy pool a good investment? No. Did I do it anyway? Yes. Was I currently sitting in my brand-new pre-inflated kiddy pool, shirtless and with only some panties on while watching the news with some 500%-daily-sugar-intake drink in hand? Also yes. When I gave Lucy a bunch of resources and told her to furnish up the house, that had apparently included getting a TV wide enough that even sitting across the room from it, I had to turn my head to see the entirety of it. It was very extra and I loved it. Exactly the kind of stuff I expected some super-rich celebrity to have in their house and that I¡¯d dreamed of having one day. Now all I was missing was a useless private jet, and a butler. Or maybe some maids? I could get a maid uniform for Lucy, she¡¯d love that. The door to the room opened and I prepared to chuck my can in case it was a kitten walking in. Instead, it was Lucy with a tablet held up to her chest. She paused halfway in to read the little door-hanger sign I¡¯d left hooked to the door. ¡°Don¡¯t Tits Open Inside?¡± she read. ¡°What? No, you¡¯re supposed to read it from the top down, then left to right,¡± I said with a demonstrative wiggle of my can. ¡°Don¡¯t open, tits inside.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s supposed to keep people away?¡± Lucy asked. I shrugged, then grinned as I noticed Lucy¡¯s attention straying downwards. Hell yeah. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I asked. She closed the door with a click and moved over. ¡°Why are you in a kiddy pool naked--¡± ¡°I¡¯m not naked,¡± I interrupted. ¡°--Without me?¡± she continued. ¡°But I could be with very little persuasion,¡± I said. ¡°I was just relaxing, watching the news. The whole world got messed up pretty bad you know, it¡¯s my job to keep up with all of that.¡± ¡°While mostly naked in a kiddy pool?¡± ¡°The job description never included any details about how I should keep informed. Or that I should bother at all. Actually, my job comes with very little by means of instructions, which is great because I¡¯m iffy with those.¡± Lucy pulled a chair over from next to this little make-up table tucked in what had become ¡®her¡¯ side of the room. She set it next to the pool, took off her shoes and socks, and dipped her feet into the pool. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s cold!¡± I scooted over and placed her feet on my stomach, then started stretching the muscle in the arch of her foot. ¡°It¡¯s meant to be a chill-out pool,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re not actually leaving this here, are we?¡± she asked. Her eyes went half-lidded, as they usually did when I put some effort into a massage. ¡°Because it doesn¡¯t fit the decor at all. Also, while I¡¯m totally down for trashy-chic, a pool in the bedroom¡¯s a bit weird.¡± ¡°If it¡¯s inflatable, it¡¯s deflatable too,¡± I said. ¡°Rac can toss it into the matter reconfiguration machine later, get some exotic plastics out of it or whatever. What¡¯s with the tablet?¡± ¡°I was doing some homework,¡± Lucy said with a knowing smile. "Have you done yours?¡± I sank a bit deeper into the pool until the water was up to my nose and I had an excuse not to open my mouth. ¡°Cat,¡± Lucy whined. ¡°Come on, it¡¯s not that hard, is it?¡± I pushed myself up a bit. ¡°But it¡¯s homework. Come on, we¡¯re too old for that.¡± ¡°No we¡¯re not. We¡¯re basically college-aged. Plenty of people our age have homework to do. I¡¯ve done mine.¡± She wiggled her tablet for emphasis. ¡°But it¡¯s so boring,¡± I said. Lucy sniffed. ¡°I¡¯ll tell Grasshopper,¡± she said. ¡°Can you imagine how disappointed she¡¯d be? Not even angry or pissed off, just like, sad. She¡¯ll look you in the eye and be like ¡®I understand, it¡¯s okay.¡¯ But deep down you¡¯ll know she¡¯s sad because you didn¡¯t even take the effort to try.¡± I glared up at Lucy until she broke down into a cruel cackling fit. ¡°Okay, okay, I¡¯ll stop. But you really should do your homework.¡± I pushed myself up until I was sitting on the end of the pool, legs pulling back until my feet splashed. Grasshopper had spent the evening with the kittens, going over lessons that we were probably all supposed to get if we had ever had a proper education. She was... actually a pretty good teacher. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Her weirdness helped. So did her ability to liberally spend points to summon up teaching aids. It was one part lesson, one part live comedy show, and the kittens had eaten it up. So had Lucy and I, admittedly. Then the lessons ended, Grasshopper gave us all homework, and she left without a hint as to when she¡¯d return, but only the ominous promise that she would. My homework was in two parts. One was a set of questions meant for someone in early high school, covering things like chemistry and math. Grasshopper left a note saying I could cheat as long as I understood how the cheating worked... I didn¡¯t know what that meant, exactly. The second part was a link to a matrix-location where there was an online shooting arena. I think my bad aim had offended her, somehow. I had been planning on working on that for a while anyway, so no harm in actually trying. ¡°I¡¯ll get to it,¡± I said. I let my hands drop with a pair of dismissive splashes. Was I being a petulant little shit? Yes, yes I was. It was nearly noon, on my only day off in a long while, and I had planned on doing nothing of import all day. I¡¯d even set some rules for myself, such as the ¡®you can only wear less clothes, not more¡¯ which had so far served to make the day passively entertaining and relaxing. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you do,¡± Lucy said. ¡°If I wasn¡¯t so sore I¡¯d make a game of it or something.¡± I nodded. Grasshopper had kind of blueballed us yesterday. The making up of that afterwards was great, but I wasn¡¯t ready for more just yet. Maybe in an hour or three. ¡°I need to go over my purchases too. Can¡¯t just spend everything on cool furniture.¡± Lucy nodded. ¡°You should. Your armour looked a bit... cooked last night. You¡¯ll need something better.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s on the list. I¡¯m thinking of getting something big too. For moving around.¡± I gestured to the TV. ¡°Looks like things around New Montreal are cooling down. Literally and otherwise.¡± That massive heat bomb Gomorrah and I had dropped next to the city had made the news. Some environmentalists were whining about it, others were complaining that it was a massive and unnecessary destruction of property and infrastructure. But most commentators were happy that they hadn''t been eaten by plant monsters overnight, so the mood was pretty grateful overall. Other cities weren¡¯t able to complain as much, with the media people being on the same menu as everyone else as far as the antithesis were concerned. Some places had come out of it better than we had. Other places had gotten utterly screwed. The full tally wasn¡¯t out yet, but it seemed that even just a couple of days into it, this global incursion was probably one of the biggest losses of human life in a short span since the first world war. Then the news cut out to an ad for burgers with free at-home delivery. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m gonna get this training shit out of the way, we can do the rest of this homework stuff later, alright?¡± Lucy pulled her feet out of the water and wiggled them dry. ¡°Sure,¡± she said. ¡°Want help with that? Either part?¡± ¡°Uh, yeah, I can¡¯t remember where I put that matrix stuff. I probably shouldn¡¯t shell out for another when I still have one that¡¯s perfectly usable.¡± ¡°Oh, I know where it is, give me a minute!¡± Lucy darted out of the room, slipped on wet feet, then caught herself with a giggle by the door. ¡°Running¡¯s complicated, you know.¡± I nodded, then waited for the door to click shut before I started to stand up. Now, where could I find a towel? I think I was supposed to feel a bit guilty about relaxing at home while the world burned, but it felt so distant. The people dying were far from home, and I had a whole heap of little distractions to deal with between now and then. I¡¯d feel guilty about it later, when it became my problem to fix all of the world¡¯s many, many issues. For now, I was busy debating on whether or not to wear a shirt. *** Chapter Two - Finally Getting Good Chapter Two - Finally Getting Good ¡°Mesh Sex is the best, no worries about birth control, there¡¯s always someone willing, and no matter the kink, you will find a group of enthusiastic weirdos to talk to about it!¡± --An Enthusiastic Meshizen, 2039 *** I wasn¡¯t about to go gallivanting in the matrix while in the kiddie pool. Nah, I was going to do that on the bed. I laid down, fiddled with my augs until I found my Full-Dive System, and I flicked it on. There was that weird sensation of sneezing backwards as I dove in. One of these days I¡¯ll convince you to buy better neural augmentations. Then you won¡¯t need to set up all of these extraneous things. ¡°I told you, I¡¯m not super fond of having my brain messed with. Also, where am I loading into?¡± I asked. For the moment, I was a shapeless nothing in a void, which... while not exactly unpleasant, wasn¡¯t nice either. Then the world turned on, as it were, and I found myself in a room with cement walls all around. There were a few tables to one side, then a couple of booths overlooking a long, long room with some holographic targets floating at the end. They looked like glowing orange model threes, though these were entirely stationary, and a bit cartoonish. ¡°Is this the place Grasshopper wanted me to see?¡± I asked. This is a training facility. The tablet to your right allows you to pick and choose a weapon, as well as attachments and equipment. The range is to your left. You shoot things from there. Time is slightly dilated here, so that three hour¡¯s training in Mesh will count for one outside of it. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said as I walked over to the little panel and picked it up. Then I stared at my hand. It was... a hand. My hand. Mostly. I squinted and noticed that the texture of the skin wasn¡¯t quite right. ¡°Right, VR bullshittery,¡± I said. Outside of the Mesh that arm was cybernetic. I glanced down at myself, just to be sure. I looked... like me, but in a dull grey jumpsuit. The only hint of personalization was the nametag CAT over my left breast. You can hardly train with a weapon if you¡¯re not in your own skin. ¡°Yeah, I suppose,¡± I said before tapping the panel. It lit up and I found myself with a dozen options. ¡°Assault rifles, DMRs? Bolt-Action, Handguns, Shotguns, Exotics, I¡¯m guessing these are the bigger categories for guns? How many guns are on here?¡± All of them. ¡°When you say that,¡± I said. A large number of gun enthusiasts have recreated nearly every weapon ever made by humanity as faithfully as they could, including many prototypes and otherwise lost weapons. The latter were designed off of existing photographs and records. All of these are available for you to play with. ¡°Wow, what a bunch of nerds,¡± I said. I also took the liberty of adding digital versions of the weapons available to you through your current catalogues. All seven-hundred thousand of them. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a bit much, isn¡¯t it?¡± I don¡¯t think anyone expects you to memorise all of them. This space should let you try things out on your own, though. I tapped on the shotguns list, because I happened to be fond of those, then frowned as it sub-divided itself some more. Automatic, semi, pump, heavy. I didn¡¯t know what heavy was, so I pressed on that, and was greeted by a long, long list of guns. Each had a little thumbnail next to its name and some information that went over my head. I guessed that ROF was Rate of Fire and the weight and ammo count was self-explanatory, but a lot of it was clearly meant for nerdier nerds than me. Heavy, as it turned out, meant the kind of gun that required two normal humans to operate, or that were loaded onto a vehicle. I could probably manage them with my power armour on. I scrolled down, then stopped on one in particular that looked cool enough to try. ¡°Okay, how do I get this one?¡± I asked while pointing to a HMSG-m49. The name wasn¡¯t as sexy as the gun itself. Tap the selection, then configure the weapon as you please. Afterwards, press the Ready button on the bottom right and the weapon will appear on the range bench. I tapped on the thumbnail, which brought up a 3D version of the gun with little lines pointing to all the things I could modify. There were drop-down menus. The drop-downs had their own drop-downs. ¡°Oh shit, this is getting complicated,¡± I said as I got lost in barrel-length options. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Perhaps keep the weapon stock for now and modify it as you find things you dislike? ¡°Right, right,¡± I agreed. This was giving me a whole new appreciation for the crap Myalis did. I asked for a gun, and she just gave me one with the bells and whistles all set up the way I liked. The heavy shotgun appeared at one of the waist-high tables in the range and I walked over to it. It was bigger than I¡¯d imagined from the picture, a metre-long gun with a barrel as big around as my forearm with sleek heatsinks covered by polished steel. The box below the bench will contain ammunition for whichever gun you summon. They will not--with some exceptions--appear pre-loaded. ¡°Makes sense,¡± I said. If this was meant to be training of some sort, it made sense to have reloading be part of the simulation. I fiddled with the box magazine that went into the gun for a bit before it fit into place, then I pulled back on the bolt and leaned into the stock. This gun had a cheap ironsight mounted on it instead of all the fancy holographic stuff I was used to. Still, I held my breath and placed the crosshair over the distant form of the model three target. The kick was... wrong. My body moved back, but the sensation of it didn¡¯t make any sense. I supposed that I¡¯d run into one of the limitations of the Mesh. Sensations in here were a little muted already, so it tracked that recoil wouldn¡¯t work the same. A smaller copy of the target appeared on the table next to me, with pinpoints showing me where I¡¯d hit it. ¡°Hey, that¡¯s... nearly a bullseye,¡± I said. You have been improving. Though your accuracy against moving targets is still lacking. ¡°Look, I spent most of my life with just one eye. I¡¯m not tripping over myself now that I¡¯ve got working depth perception, but it¡¯s still hard to tell where something is moving to.¡± Understandable. With time the discomfort will pass and you¡¯ll grow more accustomed to tracking and firing upon moving targets. Practice will, of course, help. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re here for,¡± I said. ¡°Uh, I¡¯m not feeling this gun. It¡¯s too... big? Chunky? Maybe it¡¯ll feel better with power armour on, but right now, eh.¡± I understand. The gun is limited by being a model entirely designed by humans with limited crafting capabilities. There are some very potent weapons available to you from your various catalogues. ¡°I¡¯ll definitely be needing something more potent,¡± I said. The last little while had me running into a lot of bigger, meaner aliens. My current level of firepower wasn¡¯t keeping up with the amount of resistance the bastards I met could put up. Fighting the antithesis was something of an arms race, one that I definitely wanted to be on the winning side of. ¡°So, what do the Sunwatchers have that¡¯s decent?¡± This one might interest you. It¡¯s actually a relatively common medium-to-short range gun. It is technically a shotgun because it fires shells and it¡¯s a smoothbore gun, but I think most modern classifications would consider it a PDW or sub-machine gun based on weight and ergonomics alone. The big gun on the table disappeared, replaced by a much smaller, much sleeker weapon. Not to say that this was any less lethal. I picked up the gun and checked it out. Bullpup, with the opening for the magazine just under the stock, and with a set of holographic sights at the front and middle. The barrel was a bit bigger than the joint on my thumb, which I imagined let it pack a punch. ¡°What¡¯s this called?¡± I asked. ¡°And what does it fire?¡± Its actual name is a single word whose meaning has no equal in English. It roughly translates to ¡°the captivating way a beam of light travels across the ground.¡± As for its ammunition, this can use a number of fifteen millimetre shells. Mostly fin-stabilised discarding sabot seeking rounds with miniaturised warheads. ¡°Oh, neat.¡± The gun had fire-modes too, and seemed compatible with my eye¡¯s software. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll try this out. Got all day to figure out how to shoot straight, right?¡± *** Chapter Three - A Not So Quiet Home Life Chapter Three - A Not So Quiet Home Life ¡°Samurai don¡¯t tend to show marked improvements in their abilities. At least, no more than you would expect from a normal person. They don¡¯t learn at rates that are superhuman, not unless they are specifically purchasing items to help them do so. It¡¯s this researcher¡¯s opinion that this might be a good thing. It¡¯s comforting to see that anyone, if they apply themselves and are sufficiently motivated, can become just as talented as a samurai.¡± --On the Learning Rates of Samurai, academic paper, 2026 *** I spent a good couple of hours practising with the Laser Pointer. The gun took a bit of getting used to. It didn¡¯t have the same kind of kick as my Bullcat had, but it still needed careful handling. The punch it delivered was nice though. Myalis started me small, with mid-range targets that stood still. Then she summoned an image of myself shooting and pointed out how I could change my stance to improve shooting. That... made some sense, a little. Really, the important thing was pointing the end of the barrel at what you wanted dead. How you held the gun didn¡¯t matter. Not unless you wanted to be consistent. We worked out a few kinks, Myalis proving surprisingly patient. Eventually the targets started to move around slowly, mostly from side-to-side, and I started to see the value in basically posing while aiming. Eventually, Myalis moved me into a digital building with concrete walls and lots of little rooms. The targets were still stationary, though they were replaced with holograms which lit up in passing. I had to turn and shoot them as quickly as I could. Myalis said that the next step would be moving targets in changing environments, with ¡®kills¡¯ only awarded on immediately fatal hits, but she rattled out some statistics about my accuracy and target-finding speed, which had noticeably improved in just a couple of hours. A few more sessions like this, and I¡¯d be halfway competent, according to her. Personally, I was pretty happy. The time spent in the range had been fun too, and it didn¡¯t even leave me feeling sweaty or anything. Once we were done playing with guns, Myalis brought up one of my next big purchases. You have used two suits of armour recently. Both have been damaged. One by falling debris, the other by high-heat exposure. While you still have both of them, and they are repairable, it¡¯s possible that future engagements will also lead to situations where your current armour is just not capable enough to keep you safe. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°I need something bigger and tougher, then?¡± Not necessarily. Larger armoured suits do provide more space for armouring. Thicker plates of conventional materials and reactive sections as well as more room for internals generally means that the larger a suit is, the more protection it will give. ¡°You¡¯re about to tell me that that¡¯s not always true?¡± I asked. You have met other Vanguard who have been fighting for considerably longer than you have. Do you recall their equipment? Deus Ex came to mind. The first time I saw her, other than these two massive pilon things, she was wearing some pretty thin armour. Just a few panels over what looked like a padded skinsuit. I didn¡¯t take her for someone who would put looking cute over being well protected. ¡°I think I see where you¡¯re going with this. I imagine the magical third factor here is cost?¡± Essentially, yes. I would suggest two purchases. While the suits I would suggest to you now are mostly part of the Sunwatcher technology tree, there are several advances in material sciences that are above what they can provide at the tiers you¡¯ve unlocked for that catalogue. Therefore, I would suggest buying a tier two Power Armour catalogue, then invest in a single powerful suit that can cover all of your needs. That sounded like it would cost a lot. But then, I had a lot of points to spend. Nearly six figures worth. ¡°That sounds fair enough,¡± I said. ¡°I liked the big armour, but it was a bit... big, you know? I can¡¯t imagine using it to get around.¡± Perhaps something more like a medium suit of power armour? Fully enclosed, but not as bulky. I¡¯m certain we can fit all the devices you desire into something like that. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Myalis started to summon models of the various armours she had in store for me. Mostly they fit a single, very obvious theme. Sleek, a bit taller than I was, with a long cat¡¯s tail and protrusions above the head for my ears. I didn¡¯t mind the look, and from the looks of things, I could pick out the colours as I saw fit, which only made sense since most of the examples she laid out had the kind of stealth system I was growing really fond of having. ¡°If that¡¯s all,¡± I said after a bit. I didn¡¯t need to make a choice yet. In fact, I was supposed to have a day off, and this was starting to look a lot like work. Was I even supposed to train on my one day off after so long without? I logged out of the Mesh, the matrix fading away even as I regained sensation across my body. There was a weight pressing down on my stomach. I glanced that way to find Lucy, with a pillow set onto my bare stomach, sleeping soundly while curled up in a ball. She¡¯d covered a bit of me in a blanket, but had clearly not gone through too much effort. I reached down and ran my fingers through her hair, as if attempting a futile effort to straighten her curls out. That woke her up, and she blinked dumbly for a bit before smiling. ¡°Have fun?¡± she asked. ¡°So-so,¡± I said. I¡¯d have to get her an aug like my own so that we could spend time together in the Mesh. There was so much weird stuff to see there that I kind of wanted to dive in and just explore for a day or two, but that would be infinitely more fun with Lucy around. ¡°I¡¯ll bring you next time. Myalis had me going through weapons drills and that kind of stuff, you might find it fun.¡± ¡°Hmm, commando Lucy,¡± she said. ¡°Battlefield expert. I like the idea.¡± I laughed. ¡°Alright, now get off me.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t want to snuggle?¡± she asked. ¡°Your weight¡¯s pressing into my bladder,¡± I said. Lucy laughed and rolled off of me. ¡°Fine, fine. Are you hungry?¡± ¡°Did you cook something?¡± I asked as I swung my legs off the side. ¡°Because if so, no.¡± That earned me a smack to the back of the head with her pillow. Lucy scooted off the other side of our frankly too-large bed then bounced to her feet. ¡°I¡¯m starving!¡± she declared. ¡°Let¡¯s order more trashy food than we could eat in a week.¡± ¡°Sounds wasteful,¡± I said as I walked over to the en-suite (with only one sink, because two was stupid). ¡°We can shove the leftovers in the fridge. Besides, have you seen how much the kittens eat? You¡¯d think they never saw food before the way they can empty a fridge out. Maybe if they continue to eat that way, they won¡¯t all grow up to be little runts like us.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± I called back. ¡°I¡¯m not a runt.¡± ¡°You¡¯re too thin,¡± Lucy complained. ¡°I want something to grab at and you¡¯re all bones.¡± ¡°Then grab my bones,¡± I snarked back as I left the washroom. I realized that one of the downsides of not having pants on was nothing to wipe my wet hands on after rinsing them off. I could have used one of the towels next to the sink, but they looked clean and almost decorative. Lucy had spent a lot of time picking them out. We ended up sitting on the bed while ordering from three different places, just picking out the items that looked tasty, which was most of them since we were both hungry. After that, I scrounged around for some clothes to wear, realised that I basically had none, and then I suffered through Lucy and Myalis buying some shirts and pants from a basic catalogue which I was obliged to model for Lucy. There was something incongruously wrong about modelling an outfit that had rips and tears in it as part of its design. We had to cut it short when one of the kittens screamed through the door that there was a nervous delivery guy waiting outside. As it turned out, deliveries were supposed to be drop-and-go, but the poor driver didn¡¯t want to just leave a stack of food at some samurai¡¯s door in case something happened to it--delivery theft being an entire career as it was--so he stood there with the food and waited until I grabbed it from him and sent him on his way. And then, for the rest of that day, we ate, talked shit, and made merry. All in all, it was a pretty nice day off. *** Chapter Four - Where the Fuck is Burlington? Chapter Four - Where the Fuck is Burlington? ¡°It¡¯s unfortunate that, in times of crisis, the common man cannot trust his government and his co-citizen. Now we need to trust in these samurai. Some of them are true, red-blooded Americans, sure. But just as many of them are foreigners, strangers here to lord over god¡¯s chosen people! I say it¡¯s about time we do something about it.¡± --Pastor Loud, during his last televised broadcast, 2026 *** Very, very early in the morning, two days into my semi-mandatory break, Lucy and I were sitting in our dining room (which was still weird to think about) contemplating life, love, and fast-food fries. ¡°Why,¡± I asked as I dabbed a sad, pitiful fry into some ketchup, ¡°Do these things always taste like shit the day after?¡± Lucy pressed three fries of her own into a plastic container of some sort of mustard-ish stuff. It was yellow and tasted strange, but she liked it. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she complained before chewing down. These were the leftovers from two days ago. The choice stuff was all gone already. Picked over by the kittens and Rac as if they were a flock of starving scavenger birds. The burgers were the first to go, then the pastas and the chicken and rice and all the other food slowly disappeared over the course of the day. Now all that was left were six big family-sized boxes of fries and a mixed assortment of dipping sauces and packets of ketchup. ¡°We need to buy better food,¡± Lucy said as she grabbed a few more fries. ¡°Mm,¡± I agreed. I could have ordered something, but the effort was just too much. Honestly, it was a wonder that I was out of bed at all. Last night, Gomorrah had sent me a message, asking me if I wanted to head out today, and I¡¯d said yes. We were supposed to meet at her church in the morning, so I had diligently set an alarm and woken up early. I regretted it. Not that I didn¡¯t love spending time with Gomorrah, it was just the obligation that weighed on me. Then I got a ping from Gomorrah between one fry and the next. ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Gomorrah¡¯s here.¡± I sent her a quick reply, telling her to come in. If the door was locked then... well, she could figure that out, I was sure. ¡°We¡¯re here!¡± I shouted back. The clonk-clonk of my favourite pyromancer¡¯s boots echoed through the halls until she stepped into the dinning room. She was in her full regalia, all shiny black not-leather and full face expressionless mask. ¡°I thought we were going to meet this morning,¡± she said. ¡°Hi Delilah,¡± I said before gesturing to the fries on the table. ¡°Have you had breakfast yet?¡± Gomorrah stared me down, hands on hips. I could just imagine the frown she was wearing at that moment. ¡°Cat, it¡¯s eleven.¡± ¡°AM?¡± I asked, just to be sure. ¡°Yes, AM,¡± she said. ¡°So... I¡¯m not late?¡± Gomorrah stared some more, then she reached up and undid her mask to reveal her unamused face. She was still as pretty as ever... though there was something weird about her that I couldn¡¯t quite place. Maybe when it wasn¡¯t so early I¡¯d figure it out. ¡°Hello, Lucy,¡± she said, much more sweetly than she¡¯d addressed me. ¡°Hi, Delilah,¡± Lucy said. ¡°How are you doing? Oh, how¡¯s Franny?¡± Delilah¡¯s cheeks flushed, not brightly, but enough that I noticed. And If I noticed, then it might as well have been a siren for Lucy. ¡°She¡¯s well. We¡¯re well. I think.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Lucy asked. There was a weight of implication on that single syllable that had Delilah standing a bit taller. ¡°Well is good. I can¡¯t wait to meet Franny again. I¡¯m sure we have a whole bunch of things to talk about.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure the opportunity will come up,¡± Delilah replied. ¡°So, what are we doing today anyway?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, you might start by putting some pants on,¡± she said. Lucy giggled, then poked me in the shoulder. ¡°Your undersuit thing¡¯s in the bedroom. It¡¯s a bit melted though.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m just going to buy a new one, I think. Hey, do I have time to shower?¡± I asked Gomorrah. The look she gave me was priceless, especially when I started laughing. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m kidding, I showered already,¡± I said. ¡°But you¡¯re not wearing any clothes,¡± Delilah said. ¡°Did you just... shower then change back into sleepwear?¡± I pinched the front of my shirt. It was one of those Lucy had made. It said If you can read this you are in range. ¡°Okay, first, this isn¡¯t sleepwear, it¡¯s an oversized t-shirt for sleeping. It¡¯s different. Second, I didn¡¯t change into fresh clothes, I just put this back on.¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°Cat, that¡¯s disgusting,¡± Delilah said. I sniffed. ¡°Look me in the eyes and tell me you never did it,¡± I said. She didn¡¯t. ¡°You can literally just buy something. It¡¯s like, a single point.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. It didn¡¯t matter what she said, I¡¯d won the argument and we both knew it. Gomorrah sighed and shook her head. ¡°Just, go get dressed. We have things to do.¡± I laughed as I got up. ¡°Yeah, alright. You still haven¡¯t told me what you¡¯re planning though.¡± I ran off to our bedroom and got changed. Most of my gear really had melted, so I had to get new stuff. Fortunately, what I had last time was pretty decent. ¡°Hey, Gomorrah!¡± I shouted, head sticking out of the bedroom. ¡°What?¡± she called back. ¡°What are the chances we¡¯ll be shot at or something will try to eat us in the not-fun way?¡± ¡°Low?¡± ¡°Thanks!¡± I shut the door. So I didn¡¯t need to buy that new power armour yet. I settled on asking Myalis for a new set of form-fitting suit. Something worth a fair bit more than what I¡¯d been wearing so far. What I got from that was an outfit that wouldn¡¯t fit me if I gained any weight at all. It was all black, with pads covering every surface. ¡°Does this have temperature control stuff?¡± Of course. As well as being hypoallergenic and airtight from the neck and wrists down, it has a heating and cooling function, can instantly harden to resist blunt blows, and is obviously tear and puncture proof. It has its limits, but it should provide a level of comfort that will leave you safe and comfortable against most low-risk threats. That seemed decent enough. I took off my shirt and underthings then slid into the suit which was pleasantly cool to the touch. Then I ordered a long coat that could turn invisible on command. I didn¡¯t bother bringing a gun other than my trusty Trenchmaker. It had been with me through a lot, and I kind of trusted it to carry me through some more shit. ¡°Alright,¡± I said as I bounced down the stairs. ¡°I¡¯m ready for... well, not whatever, but maybe some light fighting and such.¡± Gomorrah nodded. ¡°I think we¡¯ll mostly be meeting people at first,¡± she said. ¡°Is this the part where you tell me what¡¯s up?¡± I asked. ¡°Maybe on the way over. I said I would arrive by one, and at this rate we¡¯ll be cutting it close.¡± Gomorrah refit her mask, then nodded to Lucy. ¡°It was nice seeing you again, Lucy. I... I¡¯ll let Franny know that you asked about her. I¡¯m sure she¡¯d love a call though.¡± ¡°Ah, we¡¯re both in a similar situation,¡± she said. ¡°Oh, we should start a club exclusively for the girlfriends of samurai.¡± Gomorrah stumbled, but caught herself quickly enough. ¡°That... that might be nice. See you later.¡± I ran over to Lucy, pulled my new helmet off, then gave her a quick smooch. ¡°See you later,¡± I said. ¡°Be safe,¡± she said. I nodded, then ran off to catch up with Gomorrah. ¡°Alright, so what¡¯s up? ¡°Things have been developing while we were sitting back and relaxing,¡± she said. ¡°Not all of it good.¡± ¡°The news seems pretty positive, which is usually a pretty bad sign, yeah,¡± I agreed. Gomorrah nodded. ¡°We had a few more experienced samurai going around and clearing out bigger hives around most cities. And I think something like seventy percent of all cities are now in orange-green zones. It¡¯ll take a while to properly clear the surroundings, but it¡¯ll get done. The big issues are the coastal cities and a few holdouts.¡± ¡°Are we heading all the way to the coast?¡± I asked. ¡°No. There¡¯s a problem in Burlington. Laserjack asked if we could go over and see what we could do to help.¡± I paused. ¡°Where the fuck is Burlington?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s a small city to the south. What used to be Vermont, now it¡¯s a corpo-state for like, retirees and such. The city barely had any walls and it got overrun pretty hard. They lost a few samurai already, and now the population is holed up in half the city while they wait for help to arrive or for the antithesis to give up.¡± ¡°So we¡¯re their only hope?¡± I asked. ¡°No, the Family¡¯s asking other samurai to pitch in too. It¡¯s just that we might be the first volunteers to arrive. Everyone¡¯s busy, and most places didn¡¯t get out of things as easily as we did here.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s encouraging. And why, exactly, did you tell me I didn¡¯t need to come loaded for bear?¡± ¡°Because we¡¯re just going to meet the locals, not fight,¡± she said. ¡°Not unless something goes terribly wrong.¡± *** Chapter Five - Leadershipping Chapter Five - Leadershipping ¡°It takes the average samurai three incursions before they reach a level of comfort and stability with their own abilities and tools to be completely effective. Some take longer, and others are naturally inclined towards the lifestyle of a samurai. A few rare examples flake out and decide not to take part in combat and alien-hunting directly.¡± --The Family¡¯s Guide to Working with Noobs, 2051 *** ¡°So, what do you know about the locals?¡± I asked as I followed Gomorrah outside. I immediately put my question on hold as I took in the car sitting on my landing pad. The Fury had been Gomorrah¡¯s baby. I think the only thing she loved more than that car was fire and maybe Franny, in that order. The car sitting ahead of me wasn¡¯t the Fury, not unless Gomorrah had gone really nuts with the modifications. It looked a bit like her old ride though, but bigger and meaner. The car was stationary, but it looked like it wanted to be breaking every speed limit in the province. Four metres of pitch-black, obviously armoured skin on a chassis that reminded me of an old-timey muscle car, with sharply angled panelling. It sat low on the pad, fat wheels tucked deep within. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. ¡°Pretty, isn¡¯t she?¡± Gomorrah asked, clearly proud. ¡°I¡¯m calling her the Fury Resurrected. It felt like an appropriate name. Bigger engines, a better environmental control system, actual space-capable thrust, and a lot more armour than the first Fury.¡± ¡°Wait, it can go to space?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes, but not for long. And not very well, honestly. If I wanted something space-capable I¡¯d just buy something specifically designed for it. I¡¯m just saying, it¡¯s a lot faster and can take more of a pounding. Oh, and it¡¯s better armed too. Two gatling guns at the rear, a forward-firing railgun, a missile launching system and flamethrowers for up-close work. It won¡¯t be knocked out of the sky by an unlikely strike from a passing model eleven. Oh, and the interior¡¯s big enough to accommodate power armour.¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a nice change,¡± I said. The doors to the new Fury opened up, gull-wing style, and I slid into the passenger seat while Gomorrah went around. ¡°Hey, is this real leather?¡± ¡°Real fake leather,¡± she said with a nod as she sat behind the wheel. The interior really was more spacious, though I still pitied anyone that had to squeeze into the back. ¡°Nice,¡± I approved. ¡°So, are we heading straight south? What¡¯s the plan here?¡± Gomorrah reached to the console in the middle of the dashboard and touched a few buttons. A hovering map appeared between us, projected from a tiny pin-prick hole in the ceiling. New Montreal was impossible to miss, at least until she zoomed out and moved south across a bunch of nothing towards a city that looked a good deal smaller than ours. ¡°This is Burlington,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s a fairly small city. Population: just over half a million. There¡¯s a big university there, and not too much else. It¡¯s mostly a retiree city.¡± ¡°So chock full of old people?¡± I asked. ¡°Just about,¡± Gomorrah agreed. She set the new Fury into motion and we smoothly rose up and away from my place, then we turned and started flying just under the skylanes which had the most traffic. ¡°The place is guarded by three samurai. They¡¯re all new. Like, very new.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not exactly old,¡± I muttered. ¡°Compared to these three, we might as well be,¡± she said. ¡°All three of them became samurai near the start of the global incursion. Like Jimothy. But they¡¯ve had it a bit worse. They were the only ones around to defend the city, except for the local cops, and maybe a small militia.¡± That sounded like a hot mess. I could see why Laserjack or whoever wanted us to fly over and check on the place. ¡°What are things like?¡± ¡°One in five dead, nearly half the city lost, it¡¯s just not looking very good, and while the big-name samurai have been actively breaking most hives, I don¡¯t think they¡¯re destroying those inside of cities.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± I asked. ¡°Too much collateral, there are shelters and people hiding that would die just because there¡¯s a tiny hive nearby. Look, Atyacus will send you the package.¡± I got a ping, and when I checked it (It had taken surprisingly little time for me to get used to not having pop-ups and ads shoved through my augs at all times of the day) it was a set of compressed files from Gomorrah. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it I leaned back, trusting the nun to drive while I looked over what she¡¯d sent. There was a lot there. Maps, connections to live satellite feeds, historical documentation about the city, the location of shelters and projected numbers of survivors. Just heaps of stuff. But it was also organised so that I wasn¡¯t instantly swamped without a clue of where to start. The thing that caught my attention first was the time-lapse of the antithesis movement in and around the city. They started on the edges, but most of them seemed to come from this big lake right next to the city. The aliens poured out right onto beaches and behind waterfront homes that had no defences. The defences the city did have were all outwards-facing from the outer edge of the city. Nothing faced the waterfront. That was a mess and a half. The city was effectively split in half, with the antithesis quickly taking over a big chunk of it and only stopping once they were nearer to the less clustered sections to the north of the city. There seemed to be a lot more homes with big yards where the antithesis had taken over, with the occasional bigger complex or stretch of suburbia. The parts still holding out were the more urban areas with apartments and stores all jammed together. Downtown Burlington wasn¡¯t all that impressive, not compared to the Megacity I¡¯d spent most of my life in. It looked like everyone was being forced to get real close to each other while the few defenders the city had built barricades pointing outwards and tried to keep the aliens at bay. ¡°Only three samurai, right?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°You¡¯re going to be in charge of the four of us.¡± I blinked. ¡°Um. Can you go back for a second there. Be in charge?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Gomorrah said. She glanced my way, and even if I couldn¡¯t see her face, I had the impression she was smiling. ¡°And before you ask, yes, I really did mean you.¡± ¡°What? Why?¡± ¡°Because someone has to be,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°And I¡¯m not exactly the leadership type. You, on the other hand, are actually somewhat experienced.¡± ¡°I¡¯m used to bullying children.¡± ¡°So you¡¯ll have no trouble with samurai,¡± Gomorrah replied. ¡°Look, it was partly my idea, but Laserjack approved of it. Someone needs to take charge in Burlington. The samurai there now are too green, the political situation is a mess, and you¡¯re good at blowing right past those kinds of issues.¡± ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯m... fuck, I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. Gomorrah shook her head. ¡°You won¡¯t be alone. And I don¡¯t think anyone¡¯s expecting you to be perfect at this. Just see what you can do, I¡¯ll help where I can. The Family will be redirecting reinforcements to the city before the week¡¯s over.¡± ¡°That¡¯s five days from now,¡± I said. ¡°So we just need to hold out for that long,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°We¡¯ve done worse, I think. Besides, we¡¯re not far from home. We can drive back every day so that you can sleep in your own bed.¡± I worked my jaw. I didn¡¯t like it. But... yeah, maybe this wouldn¡¯t be too bad. I did like giving people orders a lot more than I liked taking them. I flitted through the files until I found dossiers on all three samurai. Two men, one woman, all fresh as newborn babes. They didn¡¯t have good photos of them. By the looks of it, every picture was taken by a civilian aug and uploaded somewhere. The samurai themselves had only had very light communication with the Family so far. The first on the list was a guy in his late twenties. Whip-thin and rather scrawny. Going by the name Sprout. He seemed to be leaning towards a specialisation in biological weaponry, mostly plant-based things. That sounded outright stupid when dealing with the antithesis. Next guy didn¡¯t have a samurai name yet. He was Sprout¡¯s opposite. A big guy with heavy body mods. Couldn¡¯t see anything about his fighting style or what kind of stuff he was getting. The last, the woman, was in her thirties. The only photos they had of her were taken from afar. She had some sort of coat on, with lots of spikes on it, and seemed to be in the thick of it. They were calling her Manic. ¡°Holy crap, these are like, the dregs,¡± I said. Gomorrah scoffed. ¡°We weren¡¯t much better at the start,¡± she said. ¡°I mean, sure, but still.¡± Maybe I was too used to working with professional... ish samurai. Those that, if they weren¡¯t professional, were at least experienced enough to make their weirdness work. This was going to be a spectacular mess, I could just tell. *** Chapter Six - Outrank Chapter Six - Outrank ¡°A samurai in motion outranks everyone. The complexity in this situation lies in deciding if you should run with them, or in the other direction.¡± --US Core of Special Ordnance Disposal - Technicians Manual, 2050 *** I almost fell asleep as Gomorrah drove us across the afternoon sky. We received a few warning calls as we left New Montreal¡¯s flight space, mostly automated messages telling us that we were shit out of luck if some flying aliens decided to munch on us, but a few calls actually came in with actual people on the other end, again to tell us that we were on our own the moment we left the area immediately around the city. It wasn¡¯t illegal to move (after all, some folk were going to leave no matter what, and if they left, that was fewer mouths to feed) but it was pretty damned stupid to try and cross any distance while no one was around to protect you. Telling the nice concerned people that we were samurai was usually enough to reassure them that we knew what we were doing. Although one guy from an insurance place insisted that he could sell us great travel insurance and I ended up hanging up on him. I had a lot of reading to do about the situation over in Burington, but I got bored of reading reports on my augs. It wasn¡¯t exactly a strain to use the fake floating screens projected onto my eyesight via my augmentations, but it also wasn¡¯t as easy to focus on those. I could be looking at pictures of kittens or girls with nice butts. Burlington was about forty-five minutes away, if you flew in a straight line with no traffic. With Gomorrah behind the wheel testing her new Fury¡¯s engine, it took ten minutes, and half of that was spent decelerating. ¡°We need to travel somewhere further,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Maybe across the ocean?¡± ¡°So that you can push the acceleration to the max?¡± I asked. ¡°We barely hit three-fifty an hour before I had to start slowing down,¡± she complained. ¡°This beauty can go a whole lot faster. I¡¯m talking fast enough that the planet¡¯s curvature becomes an issue.¡± I shook my head, but I was pretty happy for her. If Gomorrah¡¯s fun came from burning things and going fast, then I could get behind that. ¡°There¡¯s the city,¡± she said with a gesture ahead of us. I sat up straighter, pulling out of my slight slump so that I could see the place we¡¯d be dealing with, with my own flesh and blood eye. Burlington matched up to what I¡¯d seen pretty well. It was a smallish city, with a large downtown area in its southern end and a sprawl of homes and estates around that. Even from the air it was pretty obvious that this was a place for the semi-well-to-do. Gomorrah flew a wide circle around the city, and I took note of a few things that hadn¡¯t shown up in the first pages of the report I skimmed. From what I read, most of the resistance was located in the downtown portion of the city, which made sense. That area basically sprouted from nothing. It went from a few streets with apartment buildings and little stores, to suddenly a wall of larger complexes and buildings that stuck out of the landscape like sore, stainless-steel thumbs. They weren¡¯t anywhere near as big as what I was used to. My own building was on par with most of the skyscrapers here, even, and it was obvious that they lacked the sort of elevated platform set-up that a proper megacity had. Still, there was a kilometre-wide square of larger commercial and high-density housing which was, in turn, surrounded by barricades and defences. I saw lines of barbed wire next to flipped-over hover cars and debris being used to create a wall. Lots of greenery in that wall too, but I¡¯d inspect that once I was on the ground. The problem was that the downtown area wasn¡¯t the only defended one. A section of the city near the lake had a few dozen armed cars around it, some actively moving around , and someone had set up guard towers and cement blockades with gun nests behind them. They looked a lot more professional than the downtown defences. ¡°That¡¯s going to be trouble,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s going to be your trouble to sort,¡± Gomorrah pointed out. ¡°Are you happy about that?¡± I asked. ¡°Because I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m not. I don¡¯t like politics.¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Gomorrah shrugged. ¡°You¡¯ve handled them well before.¡± ¡°I threatened to shoot the mayor.¡± ¡°Yes, and?¡± she asked. ¡°That¡¯s exactly how a samurai does politics well. With collateral damage. Personally, I don¡¯t have the constitution for it.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡± I asked. She hummed. ¡°I think I¡¯m too used to listening to people in authority? I grew up with nuns telling me how and when to do everything. Franny was always the rebellious one. I can follow along with a bit of antiauthoritarianism, but it¡¯s not something that comes naturally to me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re really painting me as a rebel here,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re not?¡± I chose not to argue that point, sensing that I¡¯d probably lose. But really, I wasn¡¯t that rebellious, was I? ¡°Land downtown, there¡¯s more people there. Bet they have more problems that need solving. Did the report say they have a headquarters?¡± ¡°They do. There¡¯s a mall. It¡¯s central to the area, so I suppose it makes sense to use it as a staging area,¡± Gomorrah said. We flew down and through the downtown area. There was some traffic out, but it was exceptionally sparse. No call outs or warnings came as we slid to a halt over a busy road. People in hoodies and jeans were moving around, carrying boxes onto vans or shuffling around in little teams with shovels and picks. There was some organisation. People were wearing bands in different colours on their arms, or tied around their heads, and usually people with the same markings were together. Our arrival caused something of a shift, mostly because Gomorrah parked half-on and half-off the sidewalk right in front of the building. ¡°Nice place to park,¡± I muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t want anyone scratching the paint,¡± she said. ¡°That might set off the Fury¡¯s self-defence mechanism, and I don¡¯t want flambe¡¯d civilian on my conscience.¡± ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not a parking cop,¡± I said. ¡°You can argue with them about it.¡± I adjusted my coat, made sure my helmet was on straight, then loosened my shoulders .¡±You ready for the spotlight?¡± ¡°Always,¡± she replied. With that, we pushed the car¡¯s doors open and stepped out. This Fury was a little taller off the ground, which was nice. It made my exit a lot easier, and at a glance, it looked like I¡¯d need to make a good entrance. One thing became immediately clear now that I was on the ground. These people weren¡¯t doing so good. It wasn¡¯t just the cheap, work-dirtied clothes. Those were normal in a situation like this. It was the look on their faces. They looked one part hungry, one part desperate, and all tired. I don¡¯t think ¡®hopeless¡¯ has an expression, exactly, but what I was seeing now was pretty damned close to that. We were the hope these people were waiting for. It put a bit of weight on my shoulders to discover that so suddenly. This was a city of a hundred thousand, and they were relying on five of us. There was a group of police officers milling around the entrance in full riot gear and army surplus junk. They straightened up as we approached. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°Where¡¯re the local samurai at?¡± I asked. ¡°Uh,¡± the one I addressed said. I saw the gear clicking in his head, waffling between two choices. Be a normal police officer and use his own authority to try and bully me, or act like a proper human being when faced with something bigger and scarier and just give me what I wanted. ¡°They¡¯re both inside, ma¡¯am,¡± he decided. ¡°By the McDonalds.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. I stepped past him and entered the mall. It was surprisingly busy inside. Someone was brushing broken glass aside into a large heap to one side while others were stacking clothes into boxes which were being carried out by others. It looked like properly organised looting, mostly carried out by young adults and older teens with yellow bands. Gomorrah and I walked across as if we owned the place, and we were followed by a wake of whispers and pointing. Honestly, I felt pretty damned cool at the moment. I just hoped that we could earn all that coolness in the next few hours, because as I entered the food court and found three people arguing next to a tipped-over table, I was getting the impression that it wouldn¡¯t be all that easy. *** Chapter Seven - Big Gun Politics Chapter Seven - Big Gun Politics ¡°If given the option between being poor and rich, choose to be rich. That¡¯s what my father used to tell me. He was a good man, worked hard for what he earned. As I grew up, I learned that there was more to it than that, especially here in America. This land has the greatest legal system in the world. It¡¯s one of the easiest to buy your way into. Remember though, it¡¯s a legal system, not a justice system.¡± --Mister P.J. Vermille, of River Heights, 2034 *** I came to a stop and crossed my arms as I took in the scene. Of the three people arguing, one was clearly a samurai. An inexperienced, new one, but he was undoubtedly like me and Gomorrah. It wasn¡¯t even just the strange gear he had on that gave him away. There was just... something about the way he stood that said that he was a weirdo and had no business being anywhere near anyone in charge. The other two were entirely different. A woman in the kind of business-chic that screamed ¡®high-end-secretary¡¯ and a man in a square-cut corpo-military outfit, with a plastic pistol strapped to one hip and the obligatory complement of low-ranked mooks standing at attention in the background. A few people had noticed us, but no one was telling the three of them. The way everyone was milling around felt like kids watching their caretakers having a nasty argument. It would probably have been best for morale if this circus happened behind closed doors. ¡°I¡¯m going in,¡± I told Gomorrah as I turned on my stealth systems and faded away. ¡°Stay around here?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I¡¯m going to go check on the civilians, try to get an idea of how things are organised on the ground. Call me when you need help.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± I said before walking over to the morons fighting in public. ¡°We can¡¯t allow the defences around River Heights to fall,¡± the secretary-lady was saying. ¡°Just in the last twelve hours we¡¯ve lost seven guardsmen, and the Villmont estate had to be abandoned which required that we move our defences back. Restoring the estates later will be a significant expense.¡± The samurai guy shook his head. ¡°We can¡¯t, we barely have enough here. General Wilkinson can barely spare ten soldiers per entrance, and our green-tags aren¡¯t able to keep the antithesis at bay on their own.¡± The big army guy, who I guessed was this General Wilkinson because I wasn¡¯t a moron about reading context clues, nodded along. ¡°We are severely undermanned at the moment,¡± he said. ¡°We might be receiving reinforcements, but not for another two to three days. My men can hold out for that long, but they will need some R&R soon or the constant stress will reduce their effectiveness. Also, we are losing too many around the River Heights area.¡± ¡°Look, we¡¯re doing what we can,¡± the samurai said. He was a skinny, rather tall guy. Lanky, I think, was the right term for it. He had to be Sprout, the plant-specialist samurai. His gear was very... civilian. Jeans with a plain t-shirt under a vest covered in pockets. He had a sort of gardening belt hanging low to his side with some handles sticking out of it and what was obviously a handgun shoved into it. He looked entirely out of his depth. The secretary woman sensed that weakness and pounced. ¡°If Downtown wants River Heights'' continued protection, then we expect Downtown to provide compensation. We¡¯re already sharing supplies and allowing the people here to profit from our hard work. The least that can be done is diverting more help to us. Maybe we can renegotiate the samurai rotation?¡± ¡°Rotation?¡± I asked as I shut down my stealth gear. The three jumped and spun around. I was sitting on one of those half-walls that malls loved to use to divide up their food courts. ¡°Yo,¡± I said with a hand raised to wave. ¡°So, Sprout, who¡¯re your friends here?¡± The young man (who was a few years my senior, but it didn¡¯t feel like it at the moment, not when it looked like he had a spine made of canned spaghetti) straightened up and nodded to me. ¡°You¡¯re miss Stray Cat?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Oh, uh, hello,¡± he replied. ¡°These are Miss Baker, she¡¯s representing River Heights.¡± ¡°The preeminent community in Burlington,¡± she replied with a winning smile. ¡°We¡¯re a small, private group who are working to assist the rest of the city in its time of need.¡± I nodded. ¡°Okay. And you¡¯re General Wilkinson?¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± he said. I had the impression he was holding back from saluting. ¡°I command the Vermont Militia¡¯s local branch.¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Nice, nice,¡± I said. ¡°Right, I¡¯ve just arrived. I read the reports thoroughly, but I like seeing things for myself. What¡¯s the situation here?¡± ¡°We¡¯re... surviving,¡± Sprout said. ¡°But it¡¯s getting harder. There¡¯s only three of us and the antithesis are getting stronger while we¡¯re losing people.¡± They were caught on the wrong end of exponential growth then. Maybe Gomorrah and I could make a difference there. We were both pretty good at making a mess. ¡°I think that¡¯ll be our first priority then, making sure that defences hold up. Then we¡¯ll see about heading out and culling any local hives.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Sprout said. He looked a bit wide-eyed at the idea. He was real green. ¡°If you¡¯re here, that means we now have four samurai?¡± Miss Baker said. She sounded pretty excited by the idea. ¡°We can have two at River Heights now.¡± I raised a hand. ¡°What the fuck¡¯s a River Height?¡± ¡°As I said, it¡¯s the premiere living space in Burlington.¡± I turned to Sprout, who squirmed. ¡°It¡¯s the nice part of the city? A few mansions all placed close together. It¡¯s a gated community.¡± ¡°How many people live there?¡± I asked. ¡°Twenty-six families,¡± Miss Baker answered. ¡°With additional staff, of course.¡± ¡°Give me a solid number,¡± I said. ¡°How many people are there now?¡± ¡°Nearly six-hundred in all, ma¡¯am, including a fifth of my men and logistical support crews,¡± the General replied. I blinked. ¡°So one in five of our best-trained troops are protecting a couple dozen homes?¡± I asked, just to be sure. ¡°Yeah,¡± Sprout said. He sounded ashamed of it all. ¡°Okay, and how many people are in the downtown area?¡± ¡°Downtown had sixty thousand people. Right now, we¡¯re not entirely certain. A number of people evacuated from around the city to here, where it¡¯s safer,¡± the General said. ¡°We are working on a census to better distribute supplies and work.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Any reasons we shouldn¡¯t abandon the River Heights area and relocate the troops here? Sounds like they¡¯ll be more help defending the greater number of people.¡± ¡°River Heights is very defensible,¡± Miss Baker said. ¡°A number of the homes have tall fences and automated defence mechanisms that can¡¯t just be moved. Not to mention the historical value of the location.¡± I blinked, then I raised a finger and texted Myalis. ¡°This is bullshit. Right?¡± It does seem that a few people are living quite comfortably in a location not too distant from the centre of the city. Cross-referencing family names and local business owners suggests that a number of them own a lot of property within the city. So, rich fucks who¡¯d built a small defensible kingdom for themselves, and now that shit hit the fan they were staying in their castles. Honestly, I didn¡¯t mind that too much, but they were interfering with the protection going to the rest of the city. I hummed, then spoke up. ¡°We have a samurai over at River Heights?¡± I asked. ¡°We do,¡± Sprout said. ¡°Johnny. He¡¯s there now. It¡¯s his turn.¡± ¡°Right, I¡¯m going to replace him for a bit. General, I¡¯ll be texting you some information. Sprout, follow me.¡± I fell off the wall I was perched on and started walking deeper into the mall, the newer samurai jumped to keep up. As soon as we were in another section of the multi-story mall, I spoke up. ¡°How are things?¡± I asked. ¡°Don¡¯t hold back, I can handle bad news.¡± ¡°Not great, probably not terrible,¡± he said. ¡°I... need time to set up and be useful, but we¡¯ve been running around putting out fires all day for the past few days. Johnny got us some pills that make it so that we don¡¯t need sleep. Without those I¡¯d have crashed.¡± ¡°And the other samurai?¡± ¡°Manic?¡± he asked. ¡°She does her own thing. I¡¯d complain, but I really can¡¯t, she¡¯s killing more aliens than Johnny and I together. She doesn¡¯t really do orders or anything.¡± ¡°And the local politics?¡± I asked. He winced. ¡°Complicated.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be taking over those then,¡± I said with an evil smile. ¡°I¡¯m good at politics, or so I¡¯ve been told.¡± ¡°That would be a relief,¡± he said. ¡°Look, River Heights are... a pain to deal with, but we kind of need them right now. They control payroll for the militia and run nearly half the businesses in this city. I worked for them until two days ago, I guess.¡± ¡°Hey, don¡¯t you worry. I¡¯ll handle this with grace and decorum.¡± Once I was done, the rich morons would be gracing us with all of their goods and decorums. *** Chapter Eight - River Heights Chapter Eight - River Heights ¡°Charity has proven to be nothing but a mistake. You give and give, and while it might help some, most of those you pull out of the pits of poverty merely drop back in as soon as you stop helping them. No, if a person in need of charity doesn¡¯t want to need it, then all they need to do is work harder.¡± --Hope Rutherford, Professional Philanthropist, 2026 *** ¡°Hey, you,¡± I said while gesturing to Miss Baker. She jumped, probably not expecting me to call her out. She was with a small group of well-dressed folk, mostly they looked like more corporate stooges, the type of failed human whose entire identity is tied to a single company. ¡°Miss Stray Cat,¡± she said with a nod. ¡°Can I help you? We were about to return to River Heights with the good news.¡± ¡°Really? That¡¯s perfect. I¡¯m bumming a ride,¡± I said. She blinked, then turned to her groupies and pointed one out. ¡°Jacob, stay here, please. Check on our offices and maybe press Mister Daniels to get the accounting done fast. If he complains, refer him to me.¡± The man nodded, then picked up a briefcase and walked off. ¡°There, now there¡¯s plenty of space for you,¡± she said with a saccharin smile. ¡°Are you going to stay at River Heights for long?¡± ¡°Not planning on it,¡± I said. ¡°Just want to check the defences there, get an idea of what needs to be shored up and where. How do you travel to and from River Heights to here?¡± ¡°We fly over,¡± she explained. ¡°The roads between Downtown and the better part of the city are patrolled lightly, especially as we have convoys that travel back and forth, but the area is still relatively dangerous.¡± I nodded along. ¡°How¡¯s the state of the wider city?¡± ¡°The wider city?¡± she asked. ¡°You mean the sections we¡¯ve had to abandon?¡± ¡°Yeah. Sounds to me like this divide between Downtown and River Heights would be a lot easier to handle if the defences circled the entire city, not just two sections of it. We¡¯re going to need to take the rest of it back anyway.¡± Miss Baker nodded, enthused by the idea. ¡°Quite a few members of the River Heights council believe the same thing. Though I¡¯ll admit it¡¯s a somewhat divisive issue. Some would rather wait for assistance to arrive to clear out the city, but others do wish we could scour the antithesis away. When the global incursion began, there was a vote on whether or not River Height¡¯s defences would be used to protect the wider city, but in the end we chose to protect what¡¯s most important first.¡± My flesh eye twitched a bit. ¡°Yeah, I totally understand,¡± I said. I don¡¯t think she caught on to the sarcasm, which was probably for the best. She led me, and consequently her gaggle of aides, out of the mall and into the parking lot just above it. The room was nearly empty, which was a bit off-putting. I hadn¡¯t seen many empty parking lots in my time. Baker and friends had a trio of cars waiting for them. Two larger, armoured trucks with some of those militia-PMCs hanging around them, and a car that looked like it cost more than most people made in a lifetime. It was one of those fat, sleek Bently-like cars, with all of the bells and whistles a rich dipshit needed on their car, like bulletproof-glass and anti-riot measures. The kind of stuff they needed to stop angry folk from just blowing them up. ¡°Did you want to ride with me?¡± she asked. I shrugged. ¡°Sure,¡± I said. Then I ignored her spiel about the car¡¯s seats being made of real leather sewn together by peruvian orphans or whatever. It wasn¡¯t nearly as comfortable as Gomorrah¡¯s ride. Then again, this car wasn¡¯t made for someone wearing even basic body armour. If I was wearing my bigger power armour I¡¯d have to horrify Miss Baker by riding on the roof. We took off, the bigger hovercars flanking the nicer one. They had proper gun emplacements on the bottoms and tops, probably to dissuade chasers and such, but I imagined they worked well enough on antithesis. ¡°Slow down on the edge of Downtown,¡± I said. ¡°Pardon?¡± she asked. I¡¯d just interrupted her talking about the historical value of the architecture near central Burlington. ¡°The edge, slow down once you get there. I want to see what the defences are like with my own eyes.¡± ¡°Oh, yes, we can accommodate that,¡± she said before relaying instructions to the driver. When we reached the edge of Downtown¡¯s skyscrapers (which really didn¡¯t take long) we lost some altitude and slowed way down until we were barely moving at a crawl. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. I pressed my head close to the window and looked down. The roads out of the Downtown area were blocked by stacked cars and furniture. Whatever people could drag out. There were also a number of trees and bushes, of all things. ¡°Are the plants Sprout¡¯s doing?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes! He has been providing us with different plants that we can use as defensive measures. Mostly these tough bushes that are covered in nasty barbs. They¡¯re difficult to handle, but from what I understood the antithesis tend to get caught in them quite well. They¡¯re an acceptable replacement for barbed wire fencing.¡± I nodded along. That might actually have some potential, as long as the antithesis didn¡¯t discover a way to subvert them. And if they did, that would just mean that we were dealing with barb-wire aliens too, which was actually kind of messed up. We shot past the barricade, and I noticed a number of civilians looking up. Most had green bands around their arms. A lot of them gave us the finger. My impression that the normal people were getting fucked over grew just a little. Then we were flying over the no-man¡¯s-land between Downtown and River Heights. That entire area was filled with hollowed-out apartment buildings, burnt-down shops, and abandoned buildings of unknown purposes. The city, for all that it was a rather small place, had a number of parks and larger buildings with some land around them. Those had probably served to slow down the spread of any fires. ¡°The entire area¡¯s been evacuated?¡± I asked as I noticed something weird. There were people on the roof of a larger building. A hospital, I think. The roof had a fence all around it, and they¡¯d put up boards and sheets of crap in the way to roof it up completely, but it was clear that there were at least a dozen people on there. Scavengers, maybe? But then, why build defences if they were just grabbing things? ¡°More or less, yes. There are several shelters across the city that are networked together. A number of those are reading as having people within them, but we can¡¯t yet spare the people to go and retrieve them. I believe Miss Manic has been instrumental in escorting people from the shelters nearest Downtown.¡± ¡°So, some people have been locked together in a single large room for... what, four, five days?¡± I asked. ¡°Standard shelters should have supplies for up to a week,¡± she said. I didn¡¯t like that, not one bit. ¡°What are we doing about that?¡± I asked. She blinked. ¡°Well, that seems more like a concern for the residents of Downtown. The River Heights shelters are all empty. We did run a few rescue missions for persons of interest who were in locations nearby. The sons and daughters of River Heights residents.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± I said. We flew over the edge of River Heights. The chunk of the city was a quarter the size of downtown but couldn¡¯t fit a hundredth as many people. It was all McMansions with little lots around them. I spotted the clear blue water of pools hidden under glass domes and manicured gardens and lawns. The entire area was walled off. Two-metre tall cement barriers set around the compound, with pre-built towers sprouting up every twenty or so metres apart that were equipped with automated guns. I noticed a patrol making their way around on the safe side of the wall, five guys in body armour with submachine guns. The place was guarded better than a pharmacy that sold opiates. We came for a landing on the main street cutting through the centre of the area, where a few large vans and PMC trucks were parked on the sidewalks and where tents were set up. The area was dominated by an AA emplacement that was unfolded out of the back of a trailer. I pushed the car¡¯s door open and stretched up to my full height. ¡°Right, I¡¯m going to find the samurai that¡¯s supposed to be stationed here. Don¡¯t go too far, I might need you.¡± ¡°Um, okay? Are you certain you don¡¯t need an escort, I would be glad to show you aro--¡± she froze up as I activated my stealth equipment and faded from view. Now all I had to do was find that still-unnamed samurai and see what he thought about all of this, because at the moment I wasn¡¯t feeling all that charitable. At least I had that much in common with the locals, it seemed. *** Chapter Nine - Eyy Chapter Nine - Eyy ¡°There is rich, there is wealthy, there is classy. They are not mutually exclusive. To be a good wife, you must embody all three in due moderation.¡± --A Future Wife¡¯s Guide to Presentation and Poise, 2045 *** River Heights was a nice place. The road had a thing in the middle with little trees in it. The sidewalks were wide. Every house I walked past was either an older home made of glass and stainless or a newer mansion made of reinforced concrete and sharp angles. They almost all had a gate, but the fences were a few steps back, leaving enough room for some grass to grow. I bet they had some sort of home-owner¡¯s association kind of thing. I bet they actually owned their homes too. ¡°Myalis, do you have any idea where what¡¯s his name is?¡± The nearest Vanguard? He is three hundred metres to your north-east. I pointed. A bit more to the right, around the intersection. I headed that way, only pausing to take in a yard where all the hedges had recently been trimmed to look like animals. This place was rich. It was a different sort of wealth than I¡¯d occasionally seen from far below in New Montreal. This wasn¡¯t supercars and designer brands rich. It felt more understated than that. I guess it was a class thing, but I wasn¡¯t in any position to make much commentary about that. In the end, I was here for a purpose. Save the city. That meant saving the city¡¯s people. It included the people in these little mansions as much as the folk living Downtown. Fuck me if I wasn¡¯t conflicted. These rich fucks here had done the right thing. They¡¯d prepared to face an invasion. I walked by a checkpoint in the middle of the road. It was a small fixed base, with enough room under it for a car to drive while militiamen sat above manning stationary guns. The checkpoint was fixed to the ground by cement bases that were clearly already sunk into the earth long ago. They¡¯d prepared for this, or for something like it. It was almost unfair to ask that they relocate to Downtown. At the same time, Downtown was more important. There were more people there. The sheer human value made it a clear choice. ¡°Hey, Myalis, have the people living here been doing anything skeevy? Like, I don¡¯t know, keeping kids in their basements, eating people, that kind of stuff?¡± A cursory scan suggests nothing of the sort, no. Though there are plenty of suggestions of white-collar crime and possibly business fraud. ¡°Darn. it would make it a lot easier to burn this entire place down if the locals were dickbags.¡± You¡¯re in a difficult position then. Did you want to talk it out? I¡¯m a surprisingly good listener. I am also smarter than you. I laughed. ¡°No doubt. Yeah. Look, I¡¯m responsible for this shithole. That means I need to keep as many people safe as possible using what I have on hand. So, that means making sure the aliens don¡¯t hit us too hard and then arranging things so that we can hit back.¡± I understand. ¡°Now, these fucks have got it all figured out. They basically don¡¯t need me here, which is fine. Downtown¡¯s messy though. The defences there look like crap, the people don¡¯t look prepared, and I imagine they¡¯re not in the best of moods.¡± There is certainly a growing morale issue. ¡°Right. Now... if River Heights is calling the shots for Downtown and prioritising their own safety, then that¡¯ll make my work harder, yeah?¡± Yes. I stopped walking. ¡°So I¡¯ll tell them to fuck off.¡± I nodded to myself. ¡°They¡¯ve done well for themselves, so they can keep handling themselves. We¡¯ll stop supplying them with any more than they need while focusing on keeping Downtown safe. Once we start hunting down the local hives, that¡¯ll help everyone everywhere.¡± That seems like a perfectly workable solution. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said as I started walking again. You¡¯re welcome. ¡°You... didn¡¯t actually say anything helpful there, you know. Don¡¯t need to sound so smug.¡± Ah, but I correctly predicted that you would eventually draw a reasonable and workable plan if you only spent some time thinking about it, without needing additional input on my part. I scowled. ¡°And that makes you feel all smug inside?¡± My genius is as unparalleled as your predictability, Catherine. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. What a bitch. I chuckled as I continued on. There was a small group of militia guys up ahead, taking a coffee break next to what looked like a very normal and misplaced food truck. Had it flown all the way here across restricted airspace just to deliver lukewarm coffee and sandwiches? The vanguard you¡¯re looking for is within that group ahead. So, the new guy was slumming it with the locals? Cool. I flicked off my invisibility and walked over while trying to figure out which one of them was the samurai. It wasn¡¯t all that hard. The militiamen were all in army-surplus style uniforms. Jumpsuits with bulletproof vests on top, all covered in pouches and with plenty of gear hanging off their belts. The only guy without any of that was standing to one side. He was a massive guy, easily half a head taller than I was, and I wasn¡¯t the shortest of girls. He wasn¡¯t just tall though, his chest was huge, and he was quite proud to show it off, judging by his shirtlessness. A couple of the soldiers noticed me and one smacked him on the arms and gestured in my direction. ¡°Oh, hey!¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re the Cat woman!¡± He moved around the group and headed my way, an arm extending to shake. Not a normal meat arm either. At some point this guy had replaced his arms with a pair of massive prosthetics. The hands were all metal, but the arms were covered in artificial musculature under a thin transparent film. Every joint gleamed and the corded material beneath looked like it was straining even with just a simple gesture. They were probably Protectorate-made. That, or Johnny here had spent all of his money on the arms and didn¡¯t leave any over to buy a shirt. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°Stray Cat, apparently in charge. You¡¯re Johnny?¡± ¡°Ey, that¡¯s me, babe.¡± ¡°Uh,¡± I said. ¡°Babe?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± he asked. We stared at each other for a moment, then I snorted. ¡°Okay, whatever. Call me babe if you want, but I¡¯ve got a girlfriend already, and you¡¯re not my type.¡± ¡°Not even with these guns?¡± he asked. Then he raised his mechanical arms and flexed, the artificial musculature within straining while servos whined audibly. ¡°It¡¯s not that equipment that disqualifies you,¡± I said. ¡°I came over to check on you. Or that¡¯s what I told that Baker woman. I¡¯m really here to see how things are going here. You alright so far?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine, and so¡¯s that Baker lady. I love a well-organised woman, you know?¡± ¡°I guess. Hot secretary was never really my thing.¡± Johnny shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re missing out, Cat, babe. A nice woman in a nice suit, telling you what to do, all stern and forceful. And did you see her thighs? Damn.¡± This was not the conversation I thought I¡¯d be having. ¡°You know what, I didn¡¯t actually look.¡± He gave me a weird look, backing up a half step to side-eye me. ¡°Babe, you sure you''re gay?¡± ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure, yeah,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Right, I came here to talk, but not about that.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t think of anything more important,¡± he said. ¡°What about saving lives?¡± I asked. ¡°Ah, yeah, making all the babes thankful that me and my guns were there to make them safe.¡± He flexed. Again. I had no doubts about this guy being a samurai, even setting aside Myalis¡¯ confirmation. No one else could afford to be so strange at a time like this. ¡°You¡¯ve been patrolling River Heights with the militia?¡± I asked. ¡°How¡¯s the place holding up?¡± ¡°Well me and Sprout keeping things nice and safe, we haven¡¯t had any trouble at all. A few plants tried to sneak in, but most get taken out by the auto-defences long before we get to them, and Sprout¡¯s stuff takes care of the rest. Lot less work than keeping Downtown safe.¡± ¡°That¡¯s tougher?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh yeah, constant fighting. There¡¯s always something that¡¯s blowing up and the aliens have a million ways to sneak in. Get to put my guns to good use.¡± ¡°If this place is so safe, then why are you here? Just need a break?¡± ¡°Nah, the nice lady asked, and Sprout agreed that one of us should be here. One of us isn¡¯t worth more than the dozens of guards they send to Downtown in exchange for us staying here.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. That might even be true. I certainly couldn¡¯t beat a dozen competently trained soldiers after only a day or two of being a samurai, at least not when it came to playing a long-term defensive game. Still, I didn¡¯t like it. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to have to renegotiate that one,¡± I said. *** Chapter Ten - Hope Chapter Ten - Hope ¡°Hope is a currency that¡¯s hard to define. But that doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t buy some anyway! Hopebucks! A non-fungible semi-monetary unit that you can buy, keep, store, and place your hope in!¡± Typical NFT advert, 2023 *** Myalis had General Wilkinson¡¯s contact information ready for me, of course. It included the locations of all of his troops and their current dispositions. I was able to confirm that nearly half of the militia was located in River Heights. ¡°Miss Stray Cat, ma¡¯am,¡± the General said. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. I glanced around myself, taking note of the militia guys leaving the food truck and the owner of said truck packing things up. The guy pointed at me, then the stall, and I shook my head and waved him off. Nice fella. ¡°So, I¡¯m at River Heights. Be honest with me, how overkill are their defences?¡± ¡°They are far above standard. As it stands, and assuming normal antithesis progression, the area should be entirely safe for another seventy-two to ninety hours before we would need to increase its defensive potential.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. ¡°And Downtown, the defences there?¡± ¡°Abysmal, ma¡¯am. Samurai Sprout¡¯s plant-based defences are helping, and Samurai Manic¡¯s frequent excursions are culling some of the alien threat, but the defences are manned by civilians with little to no training. Those who did have training were conscripted into the militia.¡± ¡°Right. We¡¯re moving things around then,¡± I decided. ¡°Find out what the minimum number of militia you need in River Heights is, leave that number behind. I want you to set up a few rapid response teams. I think my fellow samurai and I will be heading out to cull some of the nearest hives. So we won¡¯t be manning the walls.¡± ¡°I understand. I can have them transferred over within the hour.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not in that big of a hurry. Do it naturally. I¡¯m heading back downtown in a little bit. Also, your report has a section on missing supplies. That¡¯s like things you wished you had but don¡¯t?¡± I scrolled through that section. For the most part it was ammunition counts, some additional guns, more armour. Whoever the general had serving as quartermaster was pretty good at keeping track of what they needed. ¡°We¡¯ve opened our storage caches, where our ammunition and additional weapons were stored, and discovered that a number of them were either mismanaged, robbed, or simply had unmaintained equipment. As it is, with our current rate of consumption, we¡¯ll be running out of certain kinds of ammunition within the next two days. We¡¯ll have to switch off certain weapons platforms for others, which means using that ammo faster.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. I... might be able to help with that. ¡°We¡¯ll see about that problem later. If you guys are actually getting close to running out, make it a priority to annoy me about it.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am. Will you be handling the fallout with the River Heights leadership?¡± I frowned. ¡°What fallout? I¡¯m telling them what to do, if they¡¯re not happy they can go live in a city that¡¯s someone else¡¯s responsibility.¡± I cut off the comms with the general after a few more pleasantries, then I sighed, stretched my back out until it popped, and started walking back the way I¡¯d come. Johnny was waiting for me nearby, the absent twitching of his fingers suggesting he was scrolling through something. ¡°Doomscrolling?¡± I asked . ¡°Hm? Oh no, I¡¯m looking at my matches. I never had trouble with the ladies before, but since getting these arm rockets.¡± He paused to strike a pose. ¡°My DMs have been on fire!¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. Guy must have been attracting every gold digger within ten hour¡¯s flight. ¡°Well, you can flirt with folk once I¡¯m done with you.¡± ¡°Oh my,¡± he said. ¡°Not that way,¡± I sighed. ¡°I mean I want to start clearing the area around Downtown and River Heights of antithesis. That¡¯ll mean taking out hives and blowing up plenty of aliens.¡± Johnny grinned. ¡°Hey, think we can get someone to film us at work? I need some new pics for my dating sites.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure we can find someone with nothing better to do,¡± I said. ¡°But first, let¡¯s find a way back to Downtown.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. As it turned out, Miss Baker wasn¡¯t too far from where I¡¯d left her. She rushed over to us, or at least, walked over as quickly as she could in her little high-heels and pencil skirt. ¡°Ah, you found our local guardian,¡± she said with a plastic grin. ¡°Yup,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m taking Johnny here out.¡± ¡°And you¡¯ll be staying to replace him?¡± ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re going to start a counter-offensive. The sooner we begin, the easier it will be. We don¡¯t want to let the hives grow too big. Also, do you happen to have a list of the shelters across the city?¡± ¡°I... yes, we have one.¡± ¡°Good, I¡¯ll need that. We¡¯ll cross-reference it with the public shelters. I think we can start by saving those we can.¡± She reached out and grabbed my bicep. ¡°Miss Leblanc,¡± she said, all serious now. ¡°Yes?¡± I asked. It was a little unnerving to be called by my proper name while acting the part of the samurai. ¡°Are you planning to abandon River Heights?¡± she asked. ¡°Do you think I¡¯d do that?¡± I asked. She nodded. ¡°We aren¡¯t clueless, Miss Leblanc. Not all of us working here were raised with silver spoons. Some of us understand there¡¯s... enmity towards the kinds of people who live in places like these. But abandoning them now would be a mistake.¡± I touched her hand. ¡°I might be a bit of a bitch, but my job¡¯s to keep people alive. All the people, alright? Now, if your precious River Heights people give me trouble, that¡¯d be another story, but if they mind their own and help where they can, then this will all be so much easier. We¡¯ll do our part, get some weeding done, then be out of their hair. You can go back to playing house or whatever.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that. And I¡¯ll explain things to the community leaders as well. I think seeing you in action protecting the city will reassure them that we can allow a certain amount of... leeway in our defences.¡± I nodded along, then gently pulled her hand off. ¡°On that note. Mind if we borrow your ride back to Downtown? We need to get planning.¡± ¡°Certainly,¡± she said. The ride back was... cramped. Johnny took up a lot of space. I wasn¡¯t one to complain about manspreading, but this guy took it to a whole other level. The only thing that saved me was the distraction of trying to arrange everyone to meet up at one central place. Sprout agreed right away, as did Gomorrah, but the other samurai, Manic, was quiet. ¡°She doesn¡¯t talk much, does she?¡± I asked. ¡°Manic? Nah, she¡¯s the quiet and deadly sort of babe. When I gave her the ol¡¯ one-two kapow she almost ripped my head off.¡± ¡°The what?¡± I asked. He then mimed pointing to someone, then pointing back to himself and thrusting his hips out. This man was samurai material? The Protectors were probably laughing their alien guts out from whichever hole they lived in. ¡°Yeah, uh, I can¡¯t actually see that working on a woman. Ever.¡± ¡°Ah, it works on the right kind of babe,¡± he said with a wink. ¡°Did it ever work for you?¡± I asked. It was morbid curiosity, really. He looked away. ¡°One day, it will.¡± ¡°I mean, there¡¯s a billion eligible girls out there. You keep trying my dude,¡± I said. The driver brought the car around and landed us in front of the mall. It seemed like the shopping centre really was the headquarters for the entire Downtown area. It was disheartening to step out of the car and see Downtown. The place was a mess compared to the otherwise impeccable River Heights. It wasn¡¯t just the architecture and the cramped, too-populous nature of it all, or even all the trash left on the roadside and in overflowing bins, it was the people. They walked as if expecting the shadows to jump out at them at any time. Then I saw the way they looked at us. Johnny did his whole flirting and flexing thing, looking like a fool the entire time, but that still worked. There was a light in their eyes on seeing us. Augs flashed on and I knew we were being filmed from a dozen different angles. People were less worried with us around. That was kind of a nice feeling. I just hoped I could live up to it. Giving people hope and taking it away wasn¡¯t something I wanted practice with. *** Chapter Eleven - Iron Spines Chapter Eleven - Iron Spines ¡°This is going to be a fabulous merger, I¡¯m telling you.¡± ¡°Are you sure? We make prosthetics. They literally make bombs.¡± ¡°I know! It¡¯s a match made in heaven.¡± --Discussion between MetalArms CEO and CFO before their merger with Noeing in 2031 *** The mall hadn¡¯t changed much in the last hour or so. It still felt like a terrible place to be holding any sort of meeting, especially out in the middle of the food court where anyone could spy on us. Then again, we weren¡¯t planning to do anything too skeevy, were we? And a bit of public accountability couldn¡¯t hurt. I imagined it was the same reason why most companies didn¡¯t hold important meetings where anyone could overhear them. Sprout was waiting at one of the central tables already, back bent over a trio of tablets which he was poking at and studying carefully. Next to him, a man in a militia uniform was standing at attention. He had a few pips on his chest which suggested that he had some sort of rank in the organisation. Surprisingly, they both had frappuccinos next to them. ¡°Hey boys,¡± I said as I came over. Sprout looked up, then smiled weakly. ¡°Oh, hello,¡± he said. ¡°Ey! Sprout! Haven¡¯t grown too much since I left?¡± Johnny asked as he flopped down onto the bench next to Sprout, wrapped an arm around the much smaller man¡¯s back, and pulled him into a bro hug. ¡°No, not really,¡± Sprout said. ¡°Like, really not much. The amount of points I make from my plants is kind of pathetic.¡± ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± I asked. ¡°Huh? Oh. Well, you know how it is. They¡¯re not directly used by me, so I don¡¯t get as many points from them. But hey, passive point income is nice, they¡¯re mostly paying for themselves now.¡± ¡°Oh, yeah, of course,¡± I said. I cleared my throat. ¡°Anyone see Gomorrah around?¡± ¡°She¡¯s coming,¡± Sprout said. ¡°She went to the northern entrance. There was a small wave pushing at the barricade over there and she cleared it out. I, ah, heard some concerns about fire?¡± ¡°That sounds like a reasonable concern to have around her, yeah,¡± I said. That didn¡¯t seem to reassure him much. ¡°What about Manic?¡± ¡°Whether or not she comes is up to her. She doesn¡¯t strike me as someone who does meetings,¡± he said. I nodded. ¡°And you?¡± I asked the militia man standing next to our little table. ¡°I¡¯m here as a representative, ma¡¯am,¡± he said. ¡°If you need anything relayed to the General, I can assist you. I¡¯m linked into the militia¡¯s net as well, I can pull up information for you.¡± That made sense. The General probably wanted to keep tabs on us as well. ¡°Alright. Well, while we¡¯re waiting on the others... Myalis, can I get some sort of mini-projector?¡± Certainly. There are a few inexpensive options available. I imagine you don¡¯t want something permanent? ¡°Just something cheap would do,¡± I said. Ten points later, A box appeared on the food court table and unfolded itself. A projection sprang to life above it, of a stylized cat head with a grenade pin in its mouth and a cybernetic right eye. It was even in my colours, pink and dark blue. I chuckled. ¡°Nice.¡± I¡¯ve been working on it for entire milliseconds. It¡¯s a more refined version of some of the logos I¡¯ve seen attributed to you online. People were drawing shit about me online? That was kinda weird. ¡°You talk to your AI out loud?¡± Sprout asked. I blinked. ¡°It¡¯s, um, for your benefit. I want to show you what a good AI-Vanguard relationship looks like.¡± You are, to put it into terms you¡¯d understand, so full of shit. ¡°Anyway, Myalis, my dear, my pal, my buddy, can we have a wireframe of the city?¡± The projection changed to a loading screen, which was a depiction of a kitten running after a ball of yarn, then it snapped back to a map of the city, each building sticking out as a set of thin wire-like lines. Sprout leaned forwards. ¡°Okay. Nice. We¡¯ve blocked off these streets here, here, and all of these out entirely. We have patrols that check and see if the barricades are still working, but that¡¯s about it.¡± He pointed to some roads which highlighted them in green. ¡°Nice,¡± Johnny said. ¡°I know there¡¯s good fighting to be had down the main avenue out. Lots of babes to check you out too.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Um, yeah, the main roads were too large to block at first, so we¡¯re keeping them mostly open. The idea is to have areas where the antithesis can enter with little initial resistance. These are spots that are guarded day and night. They act as killing fields for us,¡± Sprout said. That added four orange areas around the edge of Downtown. ¡°Clever,¡± I said, then I half-turned as I noticed someone approaching. Gomorrah, who placed her flamethrower atop a nearby table before joining up. ¡°Hey.¡± ¡°Hello,¡± she said. She nodded to the other two. ¡°Sprout and... you don¡¯t have a samurai name yet, do you?¡± ¡°Oh, babe, you can call me whatever you want,¡± Johnny said. ¡°Are you a nun, because I¡¯m a sinner, and I need your help tonight.¡± He winked and fired some finger guns in her general direction. Gomorrah turned to me. ¡°Can I burn him?¡± ¡°No, please don¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°Johnny, she¡¯s got someone already.¡± He tsked. ¡°The hot babes always do.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I agreed. ¡°Now stop flirting with her for a minute, we¡¯ve got work to do.¡± ¡°How did things go at River Heights?¡± Sprout asked. I shrugged. ¡°Well enough. We¡¯re pulling more militia back to Downtown. No more sending samurai over either. It¡¯s a bit of a waste of our time, unless they really need us. In the meantime... Gomorrah, how were the aliens?¡± ¡°Crispy when I was done with them,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Honestly though, there weren¡¯t as many as I expected to see. Certainly not as many as we saw in New Montreal. The defences are getting hit frequently enough, but the numbers are always small.¡± ¡°How small?¡± I asked. ¡°Forty to fifty models, usually on the lower end with a sprinkling of the bigger single-digits. By this late into the incursions we should be seeing double digits, maybe low twenties. This is far below what I¡¯d expect to see.¡± ¡°Huh, that does sound a little weak. Any ideas why? I don¡¯t know if the area was culled by a higher-tier samurai earlier.¡± ¡°The area around the city was,¡± Sprout said. ¡°Once near the start, then again two days ago. There were lots of explosions and the weather shifted around. People were worried about it. We lost power for a while, but it was re-established. The internet went down as well.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. Something wasn¡¯t adding up then. ¡°Seeing as how Manic¡¯s not here... should we proceed?¡± ¡°Proceed to what, exactly?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°I¡¯m thinking the wisest course of action right now would be to wipe out some of the nearest hives,¡± I said. ¡°We can pair up--a noob and someone with more experience hitting hives together. Once we¡¯ve cleared out the easy ones, we¡¯ll be able to range out farther, and it¡¯ll mean that the new guys here will have more points to spend on themselves.¡± ¡°That sounds fair. There¡¯s only two of us and three new samurai though,¡± Gomorrah pointed out. ¡°I don¡¯t mind staying behind, or switching out later,¡± Sprout said. ¡°Well, there you have it,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll go and see Manic. I should say hello at least once if she¡¯s technically my responsibility, right?¡± Gomorrah nodded, and I had the impression she was proud of herself under that mask. ¡°Anyway. You, can you tell the general to increase the alert level while we¡¯re out? There won¡¯t be as many samurai around to keep things safe. But if we succeed, that¡¯ll mean fewer aliens too, so I think the general will be happy enough with the trade.¡± ¡°Not that you need his permission,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°It¡¯s just polite,¡± I said. ¡°Will you be okay with Johnny here?¡± I pointed to the big guy with a thumb. ¡°As long as he doesn¡¯t touch me he won''t get burned.¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a hot mama,¡± Johnny said. ¡°Significantly hotter than you could ever manage,¡± she said. It was a threat. Johnny grinned, but he didn¡¯t push his luck, which was probably for the best. Was sending him with Gomorrah a good idea? Probably not. But if she cooked him, then that was just Darwinism at work. ¡°Right, I¡¯m going to check on Manic then head out to find some trouble. Sprout, keep me apprised. If Manic doesn¡¯t want to play, we might switch out.¡± ¡°I can do that,¡± he said. I patted him on the back. The dude could use some of Johnny¡¯s spine. And Johnny could use a bit less. Maybe sticking them together would end with a nice middle-ground? I¡¯d have to see. *** Chapter Twelve - Almost Cool Chapter Twelve - Almost Cool ¡°Omg! When Deus tripped over a pipe and bashed her face against that wall? That bit after, where she stomps her feet, it¡¯s already a meme. How can someone so dangerous be so cute?¡± --Chat from Samurai Bloopers.net, 2048 *** ¡°Myalis, got a bead on Manic?¡± Her location is known. She¡¯s past the west-side barricade, about three hundred metres out, close to the waterfront. I can guide you there, if you wish. ¡°That¡¯d be nice,¡± I said as I stood up. Sprout had run off to check on things already, and Gomorrah and Johnny--who really needed a proper samurai name already--were walking out. She¡¯d pointed to a hive just to the south, which was close enough to both Downtown and River Heights that taking it out would help both. By the looks of it, Manic was faffing about some ways from the place everyone else was working to protect. I couldn¡¯t blame her though, she was killing aliens and that¡¯s all that mattered. There was a suspected hive a few blocks over from where she was, so we would hit that after saying our hellos. ¡°I feel a little under-dressed for alien hunting,¡± I said with a tap against my chestplate. The gear I had was probably more than enough to tango with some single-digit plants, but if we were going to hit a hive, then I¡¯d want something a little tougher. Besides, I wasn¡¯t properly armed. I nipped into a washroom, because while I didn¡¯t mind eyes on me, the body suit I was wearing under my coat was so tight in some places it looked painted on, and I didn¡¯t need Lucy seeing images of my ass across her media feeds. Scoring higher on the popularity boards wasn¡¯t worth it. ¡°You remember that armour you showed me in the Mesh?¡± I asked Myalis. I don¡¯t forget much. Is that what you want now? ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°But make sure it¡¯s heat-proof. Good cooling and stuff. We¡¯re working with Gomorrah often enough that not having something fire-proof is just asking for trouble.¡± That¡¯s understandable. Do you want the usual otherwise? Thagomizer tail, finger-mounted blades,shoulder-mounted guns? I nodded along. ¡°Sounds perfect, yeah. Oh, and those jumpjets from last time.¡± Those will be difficult to fit in... I can add smaller ones, but their range will be somewhat limited unless you want to purchase a whole new catalogue specifically for that kind of technology. ¡°How limited?¡± You won¡¯t be jumping any higher than five metres vertically. ¡°That¡¯s more than enough, I think. Make sure it¡¯s got the usual stealth stuff.¡± I said. There were a few gizmos I didn¡¯t use much. The claws were something I¡¯d never messed with, and the tail was almost more for show than anything else. Still, it kind of fit the image. The stealth stuff was a must-have though, I was getting used to going invisible. ¡°I think... the usual colour scheme? Oh, and I¡¯ll need a scarf too.¡± I¡¯m on it. A box appeared next to me with a dull thump. The top unfolded and a metallic figure unfurled itself until it was standing as tall as I was. The sides of the box slid to the ground, and I was able to shuck my coat and just walk into the armour, hands fitting into the glove-like spaces for them and chest pressing up against the front of the suit. It closed around me, and for a split second I felt claustrophobic before it passed, like a wave of vertigo. Shifting my shoulders then my hips, I made sure I had full control of the suit even as the space before my eyes flicked on and ran through a diagnostic so fast it was more of an after image. I was left looking at the inside of the unisex bathroom through a screen with better resolution and frames than my own flesh and blood eye. The HUD was small and out of the way, easy to forget. The way I liked it. ¡°Sometimes I think you¡¯re too good at this,¡± I said to Myalis. I am. I walked over to the mirror after picking my coat up and slipping into it. The person looking back at me in the mirror was armoured from head to toe in sleek black power armour with a few dark sections over the more armoured parts and some glowing pink highlights along the edges. I had a scarf around my neck, bunched up nice and neat under my coat. The trailing edge had that cat-head logo, with the grenade pin in its mouth. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°That¡¯ll do,¡± I said. I could pick up a weapon later, when I needed it. And I had my Trenchmaker for those ¡®oh shit¡¯ moments. I left the box behind--it wasn¡¯t littering if the stuff you left behind was worth a lot--and headed out of the washroom and through the mall¡¯s cafeteria. It was interesting to note how much more attention I was getting now compared to before. I guess my more casual outfit didn¡¯t scream ¡®samurai¡¯ as much, and even Gomorrah¡¯s gear looked very nun-like. This was different. Once I was outside, I checked a map, found Manic¡¯s location, my own, and the simple route I¡¯d need to take to get there. It wasn¡¯t all that far. I could have gotten a car, or hitched a ride with someone, or even just splurged some points on a scooter or something, but I didn¡¯t mind a short jog. It was only a couple of kilometres. I regretted my decision about six hundred metres later. The power armour was great, it took out a lot of the effort I had to put into moving, without that, I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d be able to move at all with its added weight. Still, moving was moving, and I wasn¡¯t in the most perfect of shape. You might want to consider either more cybernetic enhancements or, seeing as how you¡¯re wary of those, perhaps supplements to help your body grow more comfortable with this degree of exercise. ¡°Like steroids?¡± I asked. Yes. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t have a dick to shrink, I guess,¡± I said. I¡¯d hardly give you something with negative side-effects. ¡°I mean, fair, but isn¡¯t that cheating?¡± You could argue that everything a Vanguard does is cheating. I laughed until I had to stop to focus on my breathing. Soon enough, I was by the barricade and I stopped my run to a slow jog and finally a normal walk. The barricade wasn¡¯t much to look at, but it was still impressive in its own... mishy-mashy way. A group with brown bands around their arms were off to one side, grinders screaming as they cut through some metal plates. Others were behind a small partition, the actinic spark of welders going off brightening up the entire street. The wall itself was made of cars turned on their sides, with metal braces bolted in place to keep them there. There were enough of them stacked up that they rose a good five or six metres up. They¡¯d built catwalks behind the cars just high enough that someone could stand up and see over the edge of the wall. A few guns were mounted up there too. ¡°Hey,¡± I called out to a militia guy who jumped to attention. ¡°How do you get to the other side?¡± I asked. He looked at the wall, then back at me. ¡°There¡¯s a tunnel, under the street,¡± he said. ¡°We use it to get to the other side when we need to burn the corpses. Um, you can get around through that building too, but it¡¯s locked up to hell, ma¡¯am.¡± He gestured to one of the buildings next to the barricade. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s alright then,¡± I said. I walked up to the wall, bunched my legs up under me, then jumped. And then I landed about a foot ahead. ¡°Myalis,¡± I growled. Yes, Catherine? ¡°Was it not obvious what I was trying to do?¡± I asked. It was. But now I have a video of you doing a bunny hop while thinking you¡¯d look very cool. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± I said. Sent to Lucy already. I apologise, Catherine. She asked nicely. I grumbled. Well, Lucy would enjoy it, and I was pretty much immune to embarrassment at this point. ¡°Just turn on the jumpjets this time? People are watching.¡± Certainly. I jumped again, and this time the jets near my ankles fired with a nearly-quiet hiss that propelled me up and to the side of the catwalk. I latched on and used the momentum to swing myself over, then I planted a foot on a small ledge and basically stepped over the top of the barricade and leapt off the other side, coat flapping with a snap behind me. I landed with a grunt, knees bending so much that I almost hit myself in the chest before I stood and continued to walk. I was vaguely aware of people over the wall staring. ¡°That¡¯s more like it,¡± I muttered. ¡°Now, where¡¯s Manic?¡± *** Chapter Thirteen - Actually Cool Chapter Thirteen - Actually Cool ¡°A ground-based city is a city whose infrastructure isn¡¯t--yet--designed to accommodate sky-based traffic. These cities require that hover vehicles use ground-level commercial and public traffic lanes and are generally accessible for people on foot, or on self-powered vehicles (i.e.: bicycles, roller-blades, scooters). As Mega-cities continue to become more popular, living in a ground-based city is seen as something less desirable and more mundane. People living in these places are often called Dirt, or Ground Pounders.¡± --Modern Dictionary of Modern Slang, fourth edition, 2045 *** The city past Downtown wasn¡¯t all too different from the city within the barricades. It wasn¡¯t like they¡¯d stopped right on the edge of the high-rises. Though the further out I walked, the shorter the buildings became. Most of them were older constructions, the kinds of building styles that were popular in like, the early bit of the century. These were pre-Antithesis buildings. Cheaper, designed to be prettier. They¡¯d been retrofitted, of course. All that flat space on their sides was wasted if it wasn¡¯t plastered full of ads. The place was a mess now. More windows were broken than not, and I suspected that had more to do with looters than any alien presence. A couple of places had gone up in flames, and I stepped over the hood of a car that had merged into a few others in what was obviously a spectacular pile-up. Burlington, it seemed, was very much a ground-based city. She¡¯s to your right, around the intersection and one floor above ground level. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. I looked around for any signs of the antithesis and found a whole lot of nothing. Strange. I would have expected them to be swarming almost non-stop. Wasn¡¯t that what happened in New Montreal? Why was it so different here? It couldn¡¯t have been Manic. She was alone and still relatively new. The area around the city had been culled, probably, but... no, I had a worrying feeling in my gut that said that something was off here, and I couldn¡¯t place exactly what it was yet. The missing aliens was part of that, though. I poked my head around the next intersection and scanned the space. A shopping area? There was a music store, an aug clinic, and a few chain restaurants with flashy ads competing for attention. Or they would have been if they weren¡¯t off. Neon wasn¡¯t nearly as impressive when it was powered down. The second floor on the music store was blown out, the entire facade missing. Music was coming from there, which... was a little strange. The street seemed entirely unpowered, so what was making the noise? After checking for stuff that might shoot at me and finding none, I stepped around the corner and started towards the store. The music continued. It was just a guitar being strummed, something acoustic, if I had to guess (and I did have to guess, I didn¡¯t know jack-shit about musical instruments). The sound carried well across the empty street. Without half a hundred air conditioning units and neon tubes humming along and no cars passing by or catchy ad jingles competing for ear-space, the street was a nice, echoey place for a haunting, slow song to linger in. I didn¡¯t know music, but I knew emotions, and that song was as melancholic as any. I stopped in the middle of the street in front of the music store, head tilted back to watch the player. She was older than I¡¯d imagined, somehow. A 30-something woman with pale blue hair tossed up in a pompadour and shaved on the sides with a clean fade. She was aug¡¯d to the tits (Which were, admittedly, fantastic), with shockingly blue eyes and a few wires just under the skin of her face. Her jacket, a thick black thing which was definitely Protector-made, with little spikes on the elbows and shoulders and a teal interior that matched her hair, was rolled up to let her hands free. She was half-bent over an old guitar, one of those wooden ones with a starburst pattern inlaid into the grain. Manic continued to pluck at the strings, and the song turned a little less sad, and a little more... inquisitive? ¡°So, who the fuck are you?¡± she asked. ¡°Stray Cat,¡± I said. ¡°You play well.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know shit about music, Stray Cat.¡± The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. She stopped. It was the wrong place to stop the music, though I couldn¡¯t explain why. With a sigh, she stood up from the pile of rubble she was using as a bench and carefully placed the guitar back on a rack next to a few others which didn¡¯t look like they¡¯d weathered whatever destroyed the wall as well. Then she walked out of the store¡¯s second floor, coat billowing out and legs straight until she crashed into the ground with a grunt and a hard bend of her knees. ¡°Fuck. Knees aren¡¯t as smooth as they used to be,¡± she complained. ¡°Buy new ones,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re Manic?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± she said. ¡°Glad introductions are done. What do you want?¡± Well, I was either going to get along with her or we¡¯d end this in a cat-fight, and there was no middle ground. I figured we¡¯d both be finding out which it was sometime in the next five minutes. Manic was sizing me up. Her hands were in the pockets of her pants, real close to a pair of large handguns hanging off her belt. I couldn¡¯t tell if she was being casual or if that was some sort of threat. I took a deep breath and considered what I was going to say next. I didn¡¯t have a lot of time to do that considering in, though. ¡°I heard you were a gigantic bitch,¡± I said. That was a nice opener. She scoffed. ¡°Wanna see it for yourself?¡± ¡°I¡¯d love to,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s a hive nearby. Whole fuckload of aliens that need killing. Actually, there¡¯s a bunch of them. You can pick.¡± ¡°What is this, some sort of test shit?¡± she asked. ¡°Do I look educated?¡± I asked. She shrugged and pulled a hand out of her pocket to gesture vaguely at me. I supposed I was wearing some pretty fancy shit instead of my usual less-than-fancy thrift-store chique. ¡°Alright, fair enough,¡± I said. ¡°Want to come or not?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like working with people. They¡¯re cunts.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t have a band with just one player,¡± I said. ¡°Bitch, you don¡¯t go making music analogies at me.¡± I laughed. ¡°Sorry. Couldn¡¯t resist. But really. If you want, hit up the hive yourself. I can stand back and blow shit up when you can¡¯t handle it anymore.¡± ¡°Girl, I¡¯m too old for that kind of double-think trickery,¡± she warned. I shook my head. ¡°One way or another, we¡¯ve got hives to explode. You can work with me, you can go at it alone. Either way, we have work to do.¡± ¡°Says who?¡± ¡°Says me,¡± I said. ¡°And you¡¯re the boss of this place?¡± ¡°Literally, yeah. Some fuckwit who¡¯s never seen the outside of his little beige heaven assigned me to protect this backwater shithole of a city. Trust me, I¡¯d rather be back home wearing a lot less and frying my brain out on my media feeds while fondling my girlfriend. But no, instead I¡¯m out here giving orders that I hope won¡¯t get anyone killed and trying to lead around a bunch of noobs who don¡¯t know any better. So yeah, either work with me, or work for me.¡¯ ¡°Those are my two options?¡± she asked. She stood taller, and I realized that she had a good half-head over me. Still, something about her posture, the way she crossed her arms and scowled... yeah, we were on the same page, more or less. At the very least, we were in the same book. ¡°Well, you can go back to practising your guitar.¡± She tilted her head to one side, the cybernetics in her neck poking out of her skin in a disconcerting way until her spine cracked, then she did the same on the other side. ¡°Yeah, alright, show me what you can do, Stray Cat. You some sort of top-tier samurai?¡± ¡°Not even close,¡± I said. ¡°Just been at this for a little longer than you have. Long enough to figure out which end of the gun goes bang.¡± ¡°Hm.¡± ¡°Myalis, nearest hive from here?¡± Difficult to confirm. With local surveillance networks mostly down, I can only point you in the general direction. There are a few potential locations to visit. One is a botanical shop on the other side of the city, the other a sewage treatment plant, another--and this is the nearest, is beneath the Burlington museum of Natural History. ¡°Cool,¡± I said. ¡°I love museums.¡± ¡°Museums?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Are we talking about the tallest cabinet thing?¡± ¡°What?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah, nevermind.¡± I frowned, but didn¡¯t ask. ¡°Come on, it can¡¯t be too far from here. You can tell me your sob story as we walk.¡± ¡°Fuck you.¡± ¡°Only if you¡¯re real okay about threesomes,¡± I replied. *** Stray Cat Strut - Myalis Art Contest! Hello Samurai, To celebrate the release of Stray Cat Strut¡¯s second volume, I¡¯ve decided to run an AI art contest. The rules are quite simple: Rules:

All submissions must be sent in by the 30th of October
No NSFW artwork
You can use any art generation AI
You can touch up the art or draw it yourself
There¡¯s no limit to the subject of the art, but it should be related to Stray Cat Strut

FAQ: If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Art can either be posted on the special AI art Discord channel, or DM¡¯d directly to me right on Patreon! Only two (2) pieces of artwork per person will be eligible for the final part of the contest
This contest is open to the public!
Voting will be open to the public starting on October 31st
Of course, the winning art will be posted for all to see!

The Prize:

A signed paperback copy of Stray Cat Strut Volume Two!
Provided you¡¯re in a place that I can actually ship to, which is most of the world with a few small exceptions

And that¡¯s a whole of it, Samurai, good luck. Chapter Fourteen - Opposites Distract Chapter Fourteen - Opposites Distract ¡°It¡¯s an accepted fact that the average American diet was worsening year-by-year, but I think it really took a hit the day the FDA merged with Nars-Mestle.¡± --Chef Boy Kardi, last aired episode of his cooking show ¡°Proper dishes,¡± 2034 *** We walked down the centre of the road, mostly because it allowed us to keep an eye on everything and if something ambushed us, it would give us more time to see it coming and to react. Also, it was strange and novel to walk down the middle of the street. ¡°You ever been to the museum?¡± I asked. ¡°Do I look like the museum-going sort?¡± Manic asked right back. I shrugged. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t knock museums. I became a samurai in one.¡± ¡°Wow,¡± she said. ¡°Talk about nerdy.¡± I blinked. Did she think I was that kind of girl? I... didn¡¯t care that much about the impression she had of me, but it still stung a little that she didn¡¯t think I was a punk. ¡°Yeah. I was with the other kids from my orphanage. It was this big PR stunt thing. Then aliens came pouring out of the sky, crashed through the ceiling and things kinda went to shit from there. I ended up with a pipe through my chest.¡± I tapped the spot. ¡°Anyway, it turned out alright in the end.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t have as much of a story as that.¡± ¡°Really? Far as I know, most people that get picked to be samurai get a shitty start. It¡¯s fine if you¡¯re not ready to talk about it, though.¡± She scoffed. ¡°I didn¡¯t get run through or anything. Me and a couple of... acquaintances all discovered that our go-to aug-doc was fucking with us.¡± She touched her exposed stomach. ¡°He sold us these colon-integrated stim injectors. CISIs, you know? They can give you a long-lasting hit of something fun if you activate them. You can load yourself full of Ziggy, or Propi or your opioid of choice before a fight. Gets your heart kicking to the beat and with the right cocktail you can¡¯t bleed and you¡¯ll keep going for a minute after you¡¯ve died.¡± ¡°Something wrong with the installation?¡± I asked. I¡¯d never been able to dream of affording that kind of self-modding. Not to mention, the orphanage was liable to rip anything too good right out of me to sell it off. ¡°Worse. He did good work, but someone from a band I know started running the numbers and it turned out three or four of us had the same serials on our CISIs. Which, yeah, that¡¯s not possible. Turns out he hawked out these cheap-ass Chinese knock-off models. 3D printed, backroom shit. So we went off to kick his ass.¡± I nodded along. I was already iffy about modding myself any more than I had. It was... I don¡¯t know, just kind of squicky. I didn¡¯t mind the eye, or the arm, but that was because I needed it. The internals were pushing it. I might give in one day, but I¡¯d put it off as long as I could. Her story was like a lesson on why it could be a bad move. ¡°Where do the aliens come in?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh, when we drove out to his place, it¡¯s near the river, we found it getting hit up by aliens. The others fucked off, but he had clients in there, you know? Mostly local whores and shit, but... yeah, they weren¡¯t going to last. Bummed a shotty from a friend of a friend and ran in.¡± ¡°Big fucking hero, huh?¡± She snorted. ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± I checked a map of the city while we chatted. The museum of Natural History was only a block down from where we were. ¡°Just around the corner,¡± I said. ¡°You know the place at all?¡± She made a vague so-so gesture. ¡°A little? Driven past it enough times. Been living in this shithole city for five or so years now.¡± ¡°Where were you before?¡± I asked. ¡°Mega-city York,¡± she said. I whistled. And she was calling this place a shithole? Then again, I couldn¡¯t complain too much, this was about as far from the place I was born as I¡¯d ever gotten. ¡°Well, Myalis thinks there¡¯s a hive in there. I think we ought to check it out because something¡¯s not right about this incursion.¡± ¡°What¡¯s not right about it? Aliens show up every few hours, we kill them, then more show up.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the thing, we should be seeing a lot more. Maybe only a dozen show up on day one, but by that night there should be three dozen, and by the next morning it should be a hundred or two. Just a few little bands of low-tier models? Over days? Just got this feeling that something weird¡¯s going on.¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. She linked her arms together behind her back, then stretched until her spine popped. I tried not to stare at her chest. I didn¡¯t need to. I had a perfectly starable chest back home. ¡°I¡¯ll go in first,¡± I said. ¡°Stealth¡¯s kind of my gimmick.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re going to leave me behind?¡± Manic asked. She sounded a bit peeved about it. ¡°Hey, if you want to come, feel free,¡± I said. ¡°But I¡¯m not big on babysitting.¡± ¡°I can pull my own weight,¡± she growled. I grinned behind my mask. Gomorrah was going to be horrified when she met Manic. The woman was like an older, meaner version of me. I was actually impressed that we hadn¡¯t turned to blows yet, actually. The museum wasn¡¯t anything as fancy as the museum I¡¯d turned into my home. It was a three story building with a large glass front. A screen covered one surface, from the ground floor all the way up. One of those perspective-based 3D advertising things that were real popular about ten years back. It looked like the museum was actually pretty nice, otherwise. Not too many ads, and it seemed pretty clean. ¡°What gives?¡± I asked. ¡°That place? Dunno. It¡¯s a museum some of the time, and the rest of the time it¡¯s used for like, fancy parties and shit.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± I said. Probably a place for philanthropists to hob-nob then. ¡°Well, whatever, through the front door, yeah? Myalis, can I get a Laser Pointer?¡± One laser pointer, coming right up. Manic gave me a strange look, but a box appeared next to me and I pulled the top off to reveal my new toy. One of those Sunwatcher bullpup smgs I¡¯d been practising with in mesh-space. There was a slight difference to the feel of it in real-space. It had more weight than a virtual world could properly simulate, but otherwise, it was pretty much the same. ¡°You armed, or you going to take them out with a winning smile?¡± She laughed then reached to the small of her back. What she came back with was a relatively small handgun. ¡°Got this thing. It fires a resonant frequency. Melts the aliens right up.¡± ¡°Oh, hey, I used something like that before. A lot, even. It¡¯s a grenade though. Good AOE, keeps an area safe.¡± She nodded, then looked at my gun, then her own. Hers was a lot smaller. I could almost see the math being worked out behind her eyes. ¡°Give me a sec,¡± she said before frowning. ¡°We¡¯ve got all night,¡± I said, even though it was mid-day at most. It took a minute, but eventually, Manic nodded. Then a box thumped down by her feet. She grinned, kicked the top off, then pulled out a much larger gun. It looked like the high-tech great-grandchild of a double-barrel. ¡°Bass-cannon,¡± she explained. ¡°Cool,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°You wearing ear protection in that suit, because this thing¡¯s loud as fuck.¡± I laughed. ¡°I should be alright,¡± I said. ¡°Right Myalis.¡± One moment, I need to ask Vanguard Manic¡¯s AI the specifications of that weapon... yes, your equipment should be able to handle indirect fire. Please don¡¯t take a blast to the face unprotected though. It¡¯ll make your cybernetic eye malfunction, and also melt your brain. ¡°Should be good,¡±I said with a thumb¡¯s up. Manic grinned, then the sides of her head shifted and the ¡®skin¡¯ over her jaw moved up and over her ears while plates on the side of her skull lowered to meet them so that her ears were entirely covered and I could see the linkages and wiring of the augs planted into the bone of her skull and jaws. ¡°Let me try this thing,¡± she said. I stepped back. Manic stepped up. She cocked her gun which whined like a microphone getting bad feedback. I stepped back a bit more as she started to laugh and pressed the gun in against her shoulder. The barrels flipped and extended, forming a pair of large, glowing disks. The noise grew and grew until the pitch hit a point where I couldn¡¯t hear it at all. With a single heavy whump that displaced the air ahead of her, Manic fired. The front of the museum exploded. I was pretty sure they heard that all the way across the city. ¡°Ah, fuck,¡± I muttered. ¡°She¡¯s not like me. She¡¯s the opposite.¡± *** Chapter Fifteen - The Bad Kind of Interesting Chapter Fifteen - The Bad Kind of Interesting ¡°The last game was stupid-hard, but the water level on this one? It¡¯s just not playable. It¡¯s streamer-hard, not casual hard.¡± --Most Eldest Ring Forums, 2037 *** With the front of the Museum of Natural History being itself part of history, it wasn¡¯t exactly hard to find a way in. Though there was a lot of glass laying around and I wasn¡¯t sure if the building¡¯s structural integrity had taken a hit or not. ¡°You know, you could have tested that on another building,¡± I said. ¡°This is the one the hive¡¯s in,¡± Manic shot back. ¡°Yeah, but we could have snuck over to the hive. Now, unless they¡¯re all deaf in there, they¡¯ll see us coming.¡± Manic shrugged. ¡°So they¡¯ll come out to where I can shoot them better. That¡¯s not sounding like much of a problem to me.¡± I resisted the urge to roll my eye. She wouldn¡¯t be able to see it anyway. ¡°Let¡¯s head in. They¡¯ll probably be on the lower floors if anything.¡± My boots crunched on loose glass and I stepped over a chunk of masonry before ducking into the museum. Manic followed, her gun refolding itself into a smaller configuration. I hoped that it had multiple settings and didn¡¯t just have a ¡®blow everything up¡¯ mode, especially if we were going to be fighting indoors. I paused once past the threshold and craned my neck back to take in the museum¡¯s layout. It seemed as if the main lobby area was a big open space, reaching all the way to the top of the building and with balconies that let people entering peek into the second and third floors. A huge whale skeleton hung from the ceiling by a set of metal wires. Some of the bones had been blasted off, but it was still obvious that it was a whale. A plaque hung next to it. Martha, the Last Whale on Earth! Now on Loan from the Ocean and Seas Museum of America! ¡°You broke the whale skeleton,¡± I said to Manic as she stepped up after me while making noticeably more noise. ¡°Huh. Well, my bad.¡± ¡°At least you own up to your mistakes,¡± I said with a nod. She flashed me a glare, but I turned around and headed deeper in before she could get a word in edgewise. The second floor looked like more of a reception place than a museum, and the first floor had a playspace for kids, with tactile displays and cartoonish animals explaining things in simpler terms. I imagined that the areas above were more adult-oriented. A holographic sandwich board, probably battery-powered since it was one of the only things in the museum that was lit up, sat by a staircase leading up. ¡°Fourteenth annual gathering for the benefit of the Burlington Music Society,¡± I read aloud. ¡°That something you¡¯re part of?¡± She scoffed. ¡°Please. This kind of stuck-up shit? They¡¯re all about the old-old stuff. We¡¯re talking fifties rock and classical bands.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not a fan of the classics?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh, I love the real classics,¡± Manic said. ¡°Pre-diaspora Justin Beiber, Imagine Dragons before they went all cyborg. The real music from back in the day, before AIs took all the soul out of it.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not super into music. Never really developed a taste for it. I like some songs, don¡¯t like others. It¡¯s all just beeps and boops, you know?¡± I raised my Laser Pointer to my shoulder and started to scan the area. Fortunately, there was a handy map on one wall that I scanned for a moment. The maintenance access was a little deeper in. I figured that would be the best way to go down. ¡°How old are you, anyway?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Eighteen-ish,¡± I said. ¡°Ish?¡± ¡°Orphaned as a kid, didn¡¯t exactly keep good track of things,¡± I said. ¡°Never really did birthdays much either.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± she said. ¡°Well, I guess you still have time to acquire some taste before it¡¯s too late.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t need to be such a bit--¡± I paused, then raised my off-hand in a fist above my head. Manic went quiet too. I focused some more on my hearing. There was something scratching at something nearby. ¡°You hear that?¡± Manic shook her head. The augs over her ears peeled back, and she frowned. ¡°No, nothing.¡± I knelt down and listened more intently, letting my cybernetic ears do their thing. ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s something below us. It¡¯s scratching something. Maybe digging?¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°You¡¯ve got good ears,¡± she said. I pointed to the armoured stubs above my helmet, both shaped like the cat ears they were protecting. ¡°They¡¯re still newish. Anyway, let¡¯s find a way down. There¡¯s no way the antithesis don¡¯t know we¡¯re coming, so we might walk into an ambush.¡± ¡°Want to go first then, since you¡¯re all armoured up?¡± I nodded, then faded into invisibility. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it, no worries.¡± Manic blinked at where I stood, then I started to move and she didn¡¯t follow me with her gaze. ¡°You can do that?¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s my specialty,¡± I said from about two metres to the right of where she thought I was. ¡°Myalis, want to give her AI an idea of where we are? I don¡¯t want to get bass-cannoned.¡± I continued on deeper into the museum, gun sweeping left and right as I started to look for trouble. A few of the displays looked like they¡¯d been broken into, but I couldn¡¯t tell if that was looters or aliens. There wasn¡¯t any blood around, or many signs of trouble. We crossed a section dealing with the local geography that looked entirely unbothered. It looked like most looters were more keen on throwing rocks than picking up new and interesting ones. Finally, we reached a maintenance door which was locked shut, the Employees Only sign printed on it a pretty clear indication that we weren¡¯t supposed to be pushing through. So, of course, I shot the door¡¯s hinges off. ¡°Huh, that¡¯s a quiet-ass gun,¡± Manic said as I raised a hand and caught the falling door. I lowered it down until it was close to the ground, then let it fall with a whump of displaced air. ¡°Yeah. Not much of a point in being stealthy if you give yourself away with the first shot,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, do we have blueprints of this place?¡± We do. The reason I suspected that the antithesis were around this building is because of an unusual heat build-up in the area. The interior of the museum is several degrees warmer than it should be. ¡°So, strange and mysterious warmth. That¡¯s not a perfect indicator of aliens,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe someone¡¯s growing something in the basement... is weed legal here?¡± Manic shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s easy to get, legal or not.¡± She shouldered her bass-cannon and looked into the maintenance area. It didn¡¯t have the benefit of a floor-to-ceiling wall of glass to allow sunlight in, so the interior was dark except for a flickering emergency exit sign. I stepped in, the visor on my helmet compensating for the lower light levels a bit, though I supposed that better gear existed for that same purpose. Manic sighed. ¡°Give me a bit, I need more light.¡± ¡°Might want to order like, a headset, or glasses that let you see in the dark. Or a helmet. You have no idea how dangerous it is to be fighting aliens without good head protection,¡± I said. I was quite fortunate that I was resistant to my own hypocrisy. I waited as Manic ordered something up. It turned out to be a sort of half-helmet visor thing that covered the top half of her face and wrapped around to the back of her skull. It let her hair out free. ¡°That¡¯s better. I¡¯m going to be low on points soon.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll find something for you to murderize yourself back to a good number of points,¡± I said. ¡°Or I can donate you my old stuff.¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather not,¡± she said. ¡°My gear looks good.¡± ¡°Ouch.¡± The maintenance area wasn¡¯t all that grand. We crossed a tiny breakroom with a wall-full of lockers, then a few other essentials: a couple of tiny offices, a closet with all of the breakers and servers for the museum, another closet with mops, buckets and a few shut-down cleaning mechs. There was a small warehouse space with shelves all over, but judging by how dusty it was, it hadn¡¯t been crossed by any aliens in a while. Then we found a door leading to a second warehouse space. On opening the door I was blasted by a gush of warm air that I felt thanks to my suit¡¯s haptics. More shelves, more dust, but this room was unique because the last one didn¡¯t have a fuck-huge water-filled hole in the middle of its floor. ¡°Well, that¡¯s interesting,¡± I said. I walked to the edge of the hole and looked down, only to find one of those monkey-like model ten staring up in our general direction atop a thick plant-like artery. *** Chapter Sixteen - Making Lots of Little Problems Chapter Sixteen - Making Lots of Little Problems ¡°It¡¯s true that the antithesis are essentially plants, without a centralised hive-mind, or even a coherent structure of command. They are true aliens, unlike nearly anything that we¡¯ve ever seen on Earth. But don¡¯t discount their cunning.¡± -Professor Christie, Lecture on the Mysteries of the Antithesis, 2029 *** I lowered my Laser Pointer, placed the red dot in the sight over the model ten, then tapped the trigger to release a trio of rounds with a hush-like whisper and a faint kick to my shoulder. The water around the aliens splashed up and I stepped back a bit not to get hit by it. The rounds I fired pierced through the water and rammed into the little alien, two of the three finding their mark and ripping it up. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°This is fucky.¡± ¡°Is this normal?¡± Manic asked. She flicked a rock into the hole with the tip of her boot. It splashed next to the corpse which gently floated up and away from the root. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like it,¡± I admitted. This was very strange. The root seemed to go on for a while. In fact... I knelt down and lowered myself over the hole, following the path bored into the ground. I couldn¡¯t see far, not with the lighting being as poor as it was and with my vision obscured by murky water, but it was pretty obvious that the tunnel went on for quite a ways. Onwards, and deeper too. ¡°Myalis, what am I looking at?¡± It looks like an artery root from an antithesis hive. They are frequently grown along tunnels dug out by model eights and, of course, guarded by model tens. These will frequently link two sections of a hive together. ¡°There¡¯s an entire heap of bad implications there,¡± I muttered as I stood back up. ¡°We¡¯re going to need to call Gomorrah about this.¡± ¡°I want to know where the root¡¯s leading to,¡± Manic said. ¡°Trouble,¡± I answered. She scoffed, but didn¡¯t press. I think we both knew I was right. Now, that begged the question, why was there a root like this underground? Or... no, that was a stupid question. Higher-tier samurai than me had been smashing hives all over. This one was probably a lot harder to discover, hidden as it was underground and under a layer of water. It was beneath the city, too. I bet a cursory glance would just suggest that it was some piping or something normal instead of a giant alien problem. I rang up Gomorrah, and she picked up within a few seconds. She was breathing hard on the other end of the line. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°Hello,¡± she replied. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Nothing super urgent, are you alright on your end?¡± I asked. She was breathing pretty hard. Was she in a running fight? ¡°Just burning some xenos,¡± she said. Ah. Well. That explained the heavy breathing then. I wasn¡¯t sure if Franny was a lucky girl or not. ¡°Okay then. You find the hive?¡± ¡°No, actually. Atyacus pointed us to a place but there was nothing there. It was strange. My IR systems said the place was hot too, but nothing.¡± ¡°Did you check underground?¡± I asked. ¡°No? There was a parking garage, but nothing in it.¡± I looked down the hole again. ¡°Yeah, well, we found something neat over here. I¡¯m with Manic, and while sniffing around we found this fuck-huge hole with a large root in it and a model ten. No signs of a proper hive, just a recently bored hole and the root. Myalis says it might be like, a connection between two hive parts.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°And we were right on top of it? That might explain why these model threes ran to our position, actually. I thought it was strange.¡± ¡°A lot of them?¡± ¡°No, just a few,¡± she said. I looked at the root. It was about as big around as my torso, with gnarled skin and what looked like veins across its surface. ¡°Yeah, no, something¡¯s fucky. This root here looks chunky enough. However much resources the hive put into growing this could have made a hundred model threes, I bet.¡± Gomorrah was quiet for a moment. ¡°That¡¯s the last of the easy ones here. And it doesn¡¯t look like there¡¯s anything else. I think you might be right. Did you want to hit the hive from your end and we¡¯ll find out what we can here?¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. I considered what to do for a moment. ¡°Actually, I think I want more information first. Might just scout the root network out and then go from there. Can you hold off on burninating things for a little bit?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve had my fill for the moment, though it wasn¡¯t quite as satisfying as I would have wished.¡± ¡°That¡¯s nice. Manic and I will check things out. You cool down for a bit,¡± I said before cutting out. I stretched my back until my spine popped, then gestured to the hole. ¡°Okay. So we either buy scuba gear and go down there, hope we don¡¯t run out of air or get ambushed underwater, or worse, get stuck, or, and bear with me here, we toss in something AI-controlled and let that figure out where the root leads.¡± Manic chuckled darkly. ¡°You¡¯re really living up to the cat stereotype if you¡¯re worried about getting wet.¡± ¡°I prefer getting wet under the right circumstances, and this ain¡¯t it,¡± I shot back. ¡°You¡¯re a real freak, huh?¡± I nodded. I was proud of it too. ¡°Alright, Myalis, I need something small that can swim through that crap and figure out what¡¯s what.¡± I can offer a pair of small semi-autonomous drones for twenty points each. Or, if you want something a little more versatile, stealth drones for a hundred points apiece. They¡¯re armed with a self-destruct mechanism and a number of stealth capabilities. Stealth would be preferable. We didn¡¯t know what we¡¯d be running into down there, and I¡¯d rather it not know that we were around until we chose to let it know. I ordered up two drones, and they appeared in a set of boxes next to me. I pulled the top off one of them, revealing that I should have asked Myalis to be a little more specific. When she¡¯d said stealth drones, I had a mental image of a small thing that hovered invisibly, maybe covered in cameras or something. What I found was a small robotic cat wearing a tiny set of scuba gear. I reached in, plucking the cat out by the nape of its neck. It weighed no more than a real cat, but looked to be cold to the touch. ¡°What?¡± Manic asked. ¡°No,¡± I replied, even if it didn¡¯t make much sense. Then I flicked the cat into the hole where it landed with a splash and sank right down. The second drone joined it a moment later, and I kicked the boxes out of the way. Myalis opened a pair of screens over my augmented eye¡¯s vision, one from each of the cat drones. So far, there wasn¡¯t much to look at but light-corrected footage of two dark tunnels. ¡°Are you getting that?¡± I asked Manic. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve got it,¡± she said. ¡°Not much to see so far.¡± ¡°Let them swim out for a bit,¡± I suggested. I imagined that whatever these hives were hiding it wouldn¡¯t be sitting just a few metres away. One of the cats reached a fork in the tunnel and I cursed. The root split two ways, one was clearly larger than the other though. That was bad news in any case. The antithesis had to have a whole network of these things. Myalis directed the cat to follow the thicker root, and I watched with growing anxiety as it continued to swim along next to more and more offshoots and side tunnels. At one point the drone stopped as a pair of model tens scampered by, seemingly unbothered by the water around them. The roots eventually turned downwards, and I tightened my fists as I watched them lead into a much larger space. An underground cavern of sorts, with large sections dug out from the walls and the ground. Model eights, the big worm-like ones, were hard at work enlarging the space. They weren¡¯t the only aliens around. The roots covered nearly every surface, and there were hundreds of pods lumped together like grapes on a massive stem, each with an unborn alien within. Those didn¡¯t concern me as much as the really large, really disturbing pods taking up the centre of the room, each one as large as a semi-trailer. ¡°That¡¯s going to be a problem,¡± I said. Then the other cat reached a second chamber, and I closed my eyes. There were more than one of them. We were sitting on top of a massive hive, one filled with every sort of antithesis in the books, and I was willing to bet they were just looking for an excuse to pop up and make my life complicated. *** Chapter Seventeen - Growth Chapter Seventeen - Growth ¡°There¡¯s famous samurai, and then there¡¯s Famous ones. I¡¯m not talking about your average joe with an alien chip in their head and a bit of an attitude problem who likes saving orphans. I¡¯m talking about the samurai who leave behind a legacy.¡± --Three Swipes, Late Night With AI-567 Interview, 2032 *** ¡°Now what?¡± Manic asked. I reached up to rub at the bridge of my nose, then let my hand fall. ¡°Well, we¡¯re kinda fucked, aren¡¯t we?¡± Manic shrugged. ¡°Honestly, that¡¯s nothing new for me.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s fair. Want to go out with a bang?¡± I asked. She grinned. ¡°Always imagined that the best way to go was while blowing something big up. A last, final show, you know?¡± I nodded along. That was the big dream, wasn¡¯t it? Unfortunately, I had responsibilities now, and Lucy would be upset if I died, even if it was in a blaze of glory. So, basically I couldn¡¯t strap a nuke to my chest and charge at the aliens. Besides, I didn¡¯t feel like swimming. ¡°Myalis, I need a few more of those cat drones. Can you start mapping out the underground for us? We need to know more or less where they¡¯ll be breaking through,¡± I said. Certainly. I¡¯ve already begun, though I don¡¯t yet know the extent of the underground hive¡¯s reach. That was fine. I let Manic open the boxes that showed up around me. I had to think in the meantime. Downtown was woefully under-defended for the number of aliens we were seeing. ¡°Myalis, you¡¯re the expert here. When will they attack?¡± An undisturbed hive will, generally, continue to expand, grow, and harden itself until such a time as it encounters resistance or a threat, at which time it will work to eliminate that threat. So if I planted bombs down there and set them off, then we¡¯d be swarmed within the hour. I started pacing the little room. It seemed as if I had three problems. I opened a text box and typed them up. 1- Fuckloads of aliens were going to mess us up soon 2- Downtown wasn¡¯t ready to deal with even a moderate swarm 3- All I had to work with were three noobs and Gomorrah I hesitated, then added a fourth line. 4- Lucy was going to be annoyed if I wasn¡¯t back home for dinner. ¡°Myalis, what could we do to mess the aliens up?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t think we can just nuke them to hell.¡± ¡°Nukes are an option?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Always,¡± I said. ¡°But they might be a bit rough here. How much of these hives are under the city that the people we¡¯re supposed to protect are living in? Nah, we can¡¯t afford to nuke anything, I don¡¯t think. We¡¯ll have to be more creative.¡± Myalis brought up a map and superimposed it over a 3d representation of Burlington. It was pretty clear that the hive was stretching around downtown, with a few little tunnels leading inwards. Of course, we hadn¡¯t uncovered the entire thing yet. The two cat drones we¡¯d sent ahead were still moving along, and the new ones were playing catch-up. It would take... well, I didn¡¯t know how long it would take to figure out the size of the hive. The bigger it was, the longer it would take. I started cycling through options. Resonators would melt the hive up nicely, especially if they couldn¡¯t turn them off in time. Just disconnecting the various root networks would fuck up the antithesis¡¯ logistics for a minute. But that would be super obvious. If we did that now, they¡¯d react, and then Downtown--and River Heights--would burn. Lighting everything on fire was an option too, but I figured we¡¯d run into the same problem. Plus, fire would pour out into the city above, and then everything would literally burn. And the hives were underwater. I was sure Gomorrah had fire that burned underwater, but I imagined that would just make it more dangerous. So, something more subtle than that. Fuck, I wasn¡¯t too good at subtle. ¡°Myalis, you remember those nano-bombs? The ones that eat antithesis meat?¡± Of course. ¡°If we set off a number of them in the hive network, would that kill it all without alerting them too quickly?¡± The nanomachines can be programmed to only eat the antithesis after a certain set time has passed, ensuring a wider distribution. ¡°Oh, that could work,¡± I said. We¡¯d need to insert them all over, then find a good time to set the bots off.... But yeah. Eating the entire hive all at once would be fantastic. ¡°They¡¯re kind of slow-acting, aren¡¯t they?¡± I asked. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Depending on the mass of the subject being consumed and the number of available nanomachines, the amount of time spent ¡®eating¡¯ will vary greatly. But, generally, they are a little slower. I could still work with that. ¡°Okay. Send everything we¡¯ve found so far to Gomorrah and Atyacus. Prioritise finding routes in the hive that lead into Downtown. We¡¯ll use those to pour our nanomachine friends in.¡± I tapped Manic on the shoulder. ¡°In the meantime, we¡¯re getting back to Downtown. Once the swarm starts being eaten, I bet they won¡¯t just sit back and enjoy it. We need to defend the city, which means arming up the locals and setting up defences that aren¡¯t as budget as what¡¯s there already.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s my kind of deal,¡± Manic said. I looked at her. No, I imagined her deal was charging in and making a mess of things, which was usually just fine, but not if she did that now. ¡°Can you hold back for like, a couple of hours? Soon we¡¯ll have more aliens breathing down our necks than we¡¯ll know what to do with.¡± ¡°I guess,¡± she said. Patting her on the shoulder, I gave the hole in the floor one last look before slipping out of the room. At the same time, I called Gomorrah. ¡°We have a problem,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s a fun way to say hello,¡± she replied. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°The hive here¡¯s bigger than I thought. I think it¡¯s got double-digit models, maybe up to the low twenties, and they¡¯re all snoozing below-ground right now. But hey, I¡¯ve got a plan.¡± ¡°Does it involve copious amounts of explosives?¡± ¡°No, actually,¡± I said. I was pretty proud of myself in the moment. ¡°We¡¯re going to poison the well, or however that expression goes. Basically, I need you back in Downtown ASAP. We need to up the defences until they¡¯ll be able to survive the aliens getting all uppity.¡± There was a long pause before she replied. ¡°I don¡¯t think the antithesis get ¡®uppity,¡¯ so much as they get murderously angry.¡± ¡°Potato potato,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll be killing them either way. Do you think you¡¯d have time to make a quick run from here to New Montreal and back?¡± ¡°What for?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve been making turrets at my place. We must have half a hundred of them by now. They¡¯re pretty cheap shit, but they¡¯ll work well against the weaker models,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d much rather stay here, but I can ask Franny to take the church van and grab them,¡± she said. I nodded along. ¡°Much better idea. I¡¯ll send Lucy a text about it. We really need to get things moving, I think that every hour we waste adds a whole shitload of extra aliens we¡¯re going to have to kill.¡± ¡°I know. We¡¯ll go over whatever half-baked plan you came up with... want to meet at the mall again?¡± she asked. ¡°Sounds good. We¡¯ll have to distribute better weapons and coordinate with the general, whatshisname from the militia. We need everyone on their A-game. Talk to you in person in a bit.¡± Hanging up the call, I continued walking through the museum, Manic a step behind me. ¡°So, where to?¡± ¡°The mall,¡± I said. ¡°Fuck me,¡± she replied. ¡°Don¡¯t like the place?¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine. It¡¯s the people I don¡¯t like. There¡¯s only one sort of person that hangs out in a place like that, and they¡¯re the worst sort of human around. Hyper-consumerist fuckwits who¡¯d sell their own mothers for the latest micro-version of whatever¡¯s the status symbol of choice this week. Can¡¯t fucking stand the place. And you know it only exists for people to flash their wealth. Otherwise they¡¯d just buy their shit online like the rest of us.¡± ¡°I like malls,¡± I said. ¡°Used to go there with my girlfriend and stare at all the shit we couldn¡¯t afford, filch half-eaten meals out of the trash too. Great smoothies.¡± Manic snorted. ¡°I guess we have different memories of that sort of place.¡± ¡°Guess so,¡± I said. ¡°Anyway, it¡¯s where everyone decided to gather in Downtown, so that¡¯s where we¡¯ll be heading to.¡± ¡°You can blame that Sprout guy, he chose it. I think he used to work there.¡± ¡°Really?¡± I asked as I stepped out into the sunlight. I got my bearings, then started walking towards the bigger skyscrapers. ¡°Yeah. Worked in this little flower shop.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± I said. Then I put that out of my mind because I had bigger concerns to deal with. *** Chapter Eighteen - Meeting of the Greats Chapter Eighteen - Meeting of the Greats ¡°They¡¯re idiots. All their little minds can imagine as the pinnacle of this technology is a machine that looks and feels human. But why would you ever want that? Humans are stupid, humans can double-think themselves into believing that the god they were raised to think is real while their neighbour who worships another is a lie and a cheat and a fool, while also being aware that neither of them has any more proof than the other. Humans are the bottom, the bare minimum when it comes to intellect and reasoning. Why in the world would you want your AI to be as smart as a human? If we create AI and they¡¯re not entirely alien to us, then we will know that we¡¯ve failed.¡± -Robert Vernes, head of the Open Institute for AI Research, 2029 *** Once I got back at the mall, Manic in tow, I sat around and started to look over our options. I also started to nurse a migraine. It wasn¡¯t a period migraine or the kind of thing that happened when you drank a high-addiction soft drink once and then didn¡¯t keep drinking it, but it was instead the far less fun stress-induced kind of pain that throbbed across my head. Do you want something for that? Myalis didn¡¯t even need to ask for what. ¡°Yeah, medicate me,¡± I muttered low enough that only she¡¯d hear. A tiny box appeared on the table before me, and I reached up and pulled my helmet off. Manic glanced my way, and I found myself being observed a lot more closely than I¡¯d usually be comfortable with. ¡°You¡¯re younger than I thought,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m legal,¡± I shot back as I opened the box Myalis gave me, took out a colourful pill, then tossed it back. It had a nice citrusy aftertaste. Nothing happened for a few long seconds, then it felt as if someone were carefully and slowly pouring cool water down atop my head and the pain washed away. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s nice.¡± It¡¯s not chemically addictive, but try not to overuse that kind of medication. The last thing either of us need are permanent changes to your brain chemistry. That was sobering. I sat up in the cheap plastic seat--bolted to the floor, of course--and glanced around. ¡°Where¡¯s Gomorrah and the others?¡± I asked. ¡°Sprout¡¯s right there,¡± Manic said with a nod to her left. I glanced that way and saw Sprout jogging over. He was wearing a labcoat over a more skin-tight armoured suit, the hems and front of the coat stained green and brown by what looked like dirt and plant stuff. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t too close when the call came in. What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Give Gomorrah and Johnny a minute,¡± I said. ¡°She¡¯s the punctual sort, so she won¡¯t be too long in showing up. But... yeah, we¡¯re kinda fucked, so I wanted to hand out new orders and see what we could do to unfuck ourselves before we all die heroically.¡± Sprout stared, then nodded. ¡°Okay then,¡± he said before taking a seat as far from Manic as he could manage. Maybe that was because Manic was sitting on one of those dividers, knees folded up to her chest and fake plants arrayed behind her. The next to show up was General Wilkinson and Miss Baker, whom I hadn¡¯t realized had returned to Downtown. Gomorrah and Johnny arrived a minute after, so we were spared having to do any sort of small-talk. ¡°Alright.¡± I said as I stood up. This didn¡¯t feel like the sort of conversation that should be had sitting down. I flicked a setting on with my augs and a map of the city sprung to life on the tabletop, a topographic map that outlined the extent of the hive beneath Burlington. ¡°This is what we¡¯re dealing with,¡± I said. ¡°Those don¡¯t look like sewer tunnels,¡± Sprout said. ¡°No. It looks like the hive¡¯s been avoiding those, as well as any maintenance tunnels. Their passage pokes in, sometimes, but then they tend to divert away,¡± I said. I probably sounded a lot more professional than I am. ¡°My guess is that the hive¡¯s trying to be stealthy, which... well, it¡¯s worked so far.¡± ¡°So, we go down and kick their asses?¡± Johnny asked. He grinned and shifted in such a way that his chest was puffed out even more and the muscles of his arms bulged. ¡°I got to live up to my new name.¡± ¡°New name?¡± I asked. This was a distraction, but I couldn¡¯t help but be curious. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.His grin turned smug. ¡°Babe Gomorrah gave it to me. I¡¯m now known as Arm-a-Geddon. Oh yeah! Check out my nukes!¡± I looked to Gomorrah, who seemed entirely to blame for all of this, but all she did was shake her head minutely as if to deny any involvement. ¡°Congratulations, Johnny... or, Arm a Geddon. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll live up to the name. We¡¯re going to have to cut the celebrations short for a minute because we¡¯re all going to die unless we do something about this.¡± I pointed to the hologram. ¡°Number of enemies?¡± General Wilkinson asked. ¡°Too damned many,¡± I said. The hologram blinked as it refreshed, and the tunnels were all a couple of metres longer. My cat drones were still pushing through. From the looks of it, the majority of the hive was concentrated on the water-side of the city, sandwiched between Downtown and the coast. ... Was it a coast if the coast was along a lake and not the ocean? I had no idea, and I didn¡¯t care enough to look it up. ¡°We still haven¡¯t discovered the size of the hive, but what we do know is that there are enough aliens waiting down there to overwhelm our shitty defences ten times over. So, we need two things. First, to kill off the hive. I have a plan for that. Second, to defend the city better, which I also have a plan for, but my plan¡¯s kinda shit.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go over the defences first,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°It¡¯s more pressing, right?¡± I nodded. ¡°Probably, yeah. Right now we basically have a very thin barrier of volunteers and under-equipped militia between most of Downtown and a whole lot of very mean aliens that¡¯ll be coming out from... well, everywhere.¡± I pointed to a few spots where the hive basically ran under Downtown. ¡°Our defences are already penetrated, then,¡± the General said. ¡°Basically. We need to clog up these holes, then make sure that the main defences can actually hold up. My main plan is simple enough. Pump the hive full of these little drone-delivered nano-machines. They¡¯ll all start eating at the same time.¡± ¡°Killing the entire hive all at once?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Bingo. But I asked Myalis, and even the fastest-acting ones take a few minutes. And they¡¯re disproportionately expensive. We¡¯ll be mixing fast-acting payloads with much cheaper, slower-to-eat ones that we can spread around some more. Hopefully, we hit all of the hives. When they come out for revenge, they¡¯ll be half dead already, even if they don¡¯t know it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the whole plan?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°I¡¯d love to hear better ideas. And I¡¯m not being sarcastic or anything. Better ideas would be fantastic,¡± I said. No one volunteered anything for a bit. ¡°So... I can¡¯t just walk in and punch everything dead?¡± Arm-a-Geddon asked. He sounded a bit disappointed. I snorted. ¡°I wish you could, but that¡¯d wake the whole thing up. There are some double-digit models down there. Tens and up. We¡¯re going to be dealing with some big nasties soon. General, how quickly can you mobilise the entire militia?¡± ¡°You mean pull people off of their relaxation time?¡± he asked. ¡°I can have everyone in tip-top within the hour. It¡¯ll mean waking a lot of the night-shift people up though.¡± ¡°Give them some coffee,¡± I suggested. ¡°Gomorrah, I bet you have a few points left over, think you can help me arm everyone up?¡± ¡°Sure. you¡¯re going to do the same?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to buy a heap of cat drones as a mobile force, then spend the rest on turrets and better guns. Hummingbirds cost very little and the civvies can use those no problem.¡± ¡°Hummingbirds?¡± Manic asked. I nodded. ¡°Little smart-pistols. No aiming required and they¡¯ll take out a weaker alien without too much fuss. We can set up mines and more creative explosives along the smaller routes leading into Downtown. We might want to pull people out of the towers on the outer edges though, they¡¯ll be hit by any area-of-effect stuff.¡± ¡°What about River Heights?¡± Baker asked. I¡¯d kinda forgotten she was there. I considered what to say for a moment. ¡°Well, if River Heights wants to use the protection afforded by Downtown, they have just under an hour to move. Things are going to get very messy, very soon.¡± We all had a lot of work ahead of us, and not much time to do it in. Maybe I should have just called in the orders instead of pulling everyone into another meeting... a lesson for next time, I supposed. *** Chapter Nineteen - Vital Defensive Preparation Chapter Nineteen - Vital Defensive Preparation ¡°I like the ship. On the one hand, sure, it¡¯s classical trope stuff. The hardboiled, mean-spirited punk falling for the angelic nice-girl nun, but I mean, tropes exist for a reason you know! Plus, I bet that in private, Gomorrah¡¯s totally the dom. I mean, have you seen the amount of faux-leather in her outfit?¡± --ShipBattles Forum post by user Youralis, 2057 *** My plan had three basic steps, and of course I ran into trouble before the first one was out. ¡°Fuck,¡± I said succinctly. Myalis had continued to direct my drones through the hive tunnels, and that meant that with each passing minute we had a better picture of where the hive was. The good news was that few of the branching tunnels were under Downtown. Not none, but few, which was the second best option there. Then Myalis, being the helpful little AI she was, kindly pointed out a big glaring issue that I hadn¡¯t considered. If we wanted to spread the alien-eating nanogoop to as many aliens as possible, then we¡¯d need to insert it in a few spots, and the best of those were all hard to reach. She overlaid a few locations in the tunnel network where we could do the insertion, but they weren¡¯t all close at hand. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. My first thought was finding suicidal volunteers to head out and drop the packages off, but there were other, better options. ¡°We send out drones. Same cat drones that we¡¯re using already, but with the bombs attached to them. Is that doable?¡± I asked. Of course. The cats will also be able to reach the locations that I¡¯ve designated as ideal spreading points with relative ease. Though this will take time in any case, and there are few locations to insert them from. The hole in the basement of the museum is one of three locations I¡¯ve found so far, and it¡¯s the most convenient. I nodded along. It wasn¡¯t central or anything, but... yeah. Time to delegate. ¡°Get me the General,¡± I asked while I paced along the length of the food court. I didn¡¯t care if anyone saw me, really. Manic was still around, cleaning her nails out with a guitar pick. Sprout and Gomorrah had run off to prepare the defences and Johnny--Arm-a-Geddon, that was, had run off to... I didn¡¯t know, try to get laid maybe? A line opened up on my augs with a boring image of the general¡¯s face as the only indicator of who I was talking to. ¡°Stray Cat?¡± he asked. ¡°You got any militia people with honking big testicles, General?¡± I asked. He chuckled. ¡°I might have a few. What needs doing?¡± ¡°I need a very precious cargo driven to a specific location and delivered to a specific hole. And no, this isn¡¯t any sort of innuendo. I need people to deliver a load of drones to the museum, specifically the basement where there¡¯s access to the antithesis¡¯ tunnel network.¡± ¡°Is this going to be the sort of mission where we only ask for volunteers?¡± he asked. I swallowed. ¡°I hope it¡¯s not that bad but... maybe ask anyway. We don¡¯t want cowards on this one. Give them your best gear too, and maybe I can throw in a few bonuses. Uh, while I have you on the line, where would be the best place to dump off a heap of Samurai-grade weapons?¡± ¡°Mall, second floor, we¡¯ve taken over a row of shops there,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll have someone meet you.¡± ¡°Alright. Will you be able to distribute things quickly?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll try. No promises when it comes to the civilians though, they might decide to run and hide.¡± There was no contempt there, just a matter-of-factness to everything that made it sound terribly truthful. Some civilians would run, and there wasn¡¯t anything we could do about it. ¡°Thanks, General. We¡¯ll deal with that when the time comes, I guess. Getting as many people ready to receive the horde as we can is more important for now.¡± With that done, I started to make my way across the mall. Of course, my pacing meant that I¡¯d ended up as far from the nearest escalator bank as I could be without stepping outside. That was fine, it gave me time to get my next call out of the way. Lucy answered on the third ring, and the first thing I heard was her breathing. Her breathing which was hard and laboured. ¡°Uh,¡± I said. ¡°Hey... what¡¯re you up to?¡± I asked. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. She laughed between pants. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know.¡± ¡°Desperately,¡± I said. ¡°You know, you can set your augs to record whatever it is you¡¯re doing in first person...¡± ¡°Oh?¡± she asked, the teasing note in her voice was impossible to miss. ¡°Would you, ah, like that?¡± I swallowed then glanced around as I slowed my walk. This was very much not the time to be looking at something like that, but yes, I totally wanted to see. ¡°Here, linking you in now. Enjoy the view,¡± she said with a raspy chuckle. I opened the link as soon as it came through and... watched through a floating screen in my vision as Lucy--in first person--knelt down and picked up one of those turrets we¡¯d been fabricating at home and loaded it up into the back of a van. She stopped after it was in, hands on her knees to catch her breath. ¡°These things are way too heavy,¡± she complained. I snorted. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll bet. How come you¡¯re loading them?¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that what you called for?¡± she asked. She smacked her hands together and turned. I saw the front of our home. She was between the forelegs of the cat, just on the landing deck out front. The door was held open with a block of something and the kittens were carrying out turrets, working in pairs to lift them. ¡°Yeah, but how did you know before I called?¡± ¡®Because Gomorrah is better at communicating with her girlfriend than you are,¡± she said. She turned and I saw that Franny was around. The redhead looked up and blinked. ¡°Girlfriend?¡± she asked. ¡°Wait, who are you talking to?¡± ¡°I¡¯m talking to Cat. Give me a bit?¡± Lucy asked. At Franny¡¯s nod she walked off to the side where she had a little bit more privacy. ¡°So, what¡¯s up?¡± ¡°Uh, literally just called to ask about the turrets. How many do we have?¡± ¡°Forty-seven,¡± she said. ¡°And I think we won¡¯t be able to fit all of them in the van. Rac¡¯s working on making more as we speak, but they take like, twenty minutes each, so even if we did a round trip and then returned we wouldn¡¯t deliver that many more.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll help,¡± I said. ¡°Also, what do you mean by ¡®we?¡¯¡± ¡°We as in me and Franny!¡± Lucy said. ¡°I¡¯m going to be the door gunner!¡± ¡°Lucy, no,¡± I said. ¡°Lucy, yes!¡± she cheered. ¡°Come on, it won¡¯t be that dangerous.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a van, not a gunship. There¡¯s no door to gun from,¡± I said. ¡°I have a handgun,¡± she replied. Then she looked down, unzipped the front of her blazer, and pulled a handgun out from where she¡¯d tucked it into the waist of her pants. ¡°See,¡± she said. ¡°Disregarding how hot that was,¡± I said. ¡°Still no.¡± Lucy laughed and shoved the gun away after checking to see if the safety was still on. ¡°You can¡¯t stop me, Cat. Besides, it¡¯s just a quick trip over, right? I¡¯ll kiss you in like, an hour, tops. Alright? Now, I need to get back to work. Love you!¡± And then she had the gall to disconnect me. Lucy was coming here. Oh, I could probably stop her, for now, but then it would become a challenge and I really didn¡¯t want to stand in Lucy¡¯s way when she felt challenged about something. That wouldn¡¯t be healthy for our relationship. Besides, I did kind of miss her. So, if I fucked up here, I wasn¡¯t just going to get a few thousand civilians dead, I was going to end up without Lucy too. ¡°Well, fuck,¡± I muttered. ¡°Myalis, how many points do I have left?¡± I asked as I ran up the escalator. The clock was ticking. You currently have ninety-six thousand, four hundred and twelve points remaining. You have been spending without paying them much heed recently, but that amounted to less than three percent of your point total, so I didn¡¯t see the need to be overly concerned. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re going to be spending a lot more. I need drones with those nanomachines, I need turret emplacements, I need entire crates of easy-to-use weapons, and I need cases of grenades. If we can¡¯t make the walls around Downtown impervious, then we¡¯ll just turn everything at street level into one big killing field.¡± Oh, wonderful! In that case, might I suggest a few catalogues? *** Chapter Twenty - Nanomachines, Son Chapter Twenty - Nanomachines, Son ¡°Fuck logistics.¡± Corporal Dimitry, Russian Eastern Incursion Front, 2029 *** First, nanomachines. Specifically nanobots that can be used in an offensive capability. ¡°I need a catalogue for that?¡± I asked. The only nanomachines you¡¯ve used previously were specifically designed to dispose of antithesis corpses. This is an entirely different use-case. ¡°Yeah, but those were also nanostuff,¡± I pointed out. Cat. The ones you want to buy for this hive are as different as a doorhandle is to a spacecraft. While both could technically be called machines, the degrees of complexity between them makes keeping both in the same general categorization idiotic and misleading. I raised my hands in surrender. ¡°Okay, yeah, fair enough.¡± I imagined the nanobots we were preparing to deploy were going to be somewhat more complicated than those I¡¯d used before. They needed to travel to specific places and wait for a specific signal before they started anything. ¡°Any other catalogue I should look into?¡± I asked. Two come to mind. Basic Defensive Infrastructure for quick-to-install defences. Then, Civilian-Grade General Combat Equipment. That last one is for the civilians, obviously. ¡°What does Civilian-Grade mean, exactly?¡± I asked. The catalogue mostly has helmets and armour that¡¯s relatively cheap, capable of keeping a civilian informed and connected while also keeping them safe from the weakest antithesis. These are not rated for the level of combat a Vanguard would expect to face, and aren¡¯t designed to last very long. The catalogue includes weapons that are meant to be so easy to use that a child could operate them with barely any instruction without harming themselves or others. I reached the top of the escalator, then nodded along. ¡°Alright, fine. Grab the catalogues.¡± New Purchase: Class I Nanomechanized Warfare Current Points: 94,564 New Purchase: Class 0 Civilian-Grade General Combat Equipment Current Points: 94,464 New Purchase: Basic Defensive Infrastructure Current Points: 94,264 ¡°Nice,¡± I said. ¡°Hold off on buying stuff for a minute, though,¡± I said. There was a predictable number of militia men loitering around a set of shops that had been taken over. Someone installed steel plates before the windows and blocked the rest off with planks, leaving only one way into the area, with hip-high sandbags stacked up around it. Anyone coming in would have to get past the guys with rifles by the entrance. Fortunately, I had someone running out to meet me already. A fresh-faced woman, maybe three or four years older than me, who came to a stop next to me and snapped a salute. ¡°Second Lieutenant Smart, ma¡¯am,¡± she said. ¡°The General said you would need some assistance.¡± ¡°Hey Smart,¡± I said. ¡°I think we all need a bit of help right now.¡± She laughed and I stared at her for a long couple of seconds. That hadn¡¯t been funny. Was I dealing with my own yes-man? Yes-woman? Yes-cute-girl-in-tight-uniform? I wasn¡¯t sure if I liked it or not. I preferred it when corporate stooges were angry at me, that meant I was doing the right thing. ¡°Did the General give you an outline of what¡¯s going on?¡± She nodded. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am. We¡¯re looking for volunteers for your high-risk mission now. It might take a few minutes to gather everyone. The vehicle for their transportation is being readied as well. We just need the equipment they¡¯ll be using.¡± ¡°Good,¡± I said. Then I looked at the shops they¡¯d taken over. A clothing place and a sporting goods store. The shelves had been pushed around and it was pretty clear that they¡¯d done some last-minute renovations to make the place more suitable to their needs. It also looked like they¡¯d set up a clinic of sorts and some spaces for their people to sit down and relax in. That was all fine, but I needed more room than they could afford. ¡°Smart,¡± I snapped. She straightened up as if I¡¯d pinched her. ¡°I need tables. All across here. Get me every nice flat surface you can find. It¡¯s not time for sitting around and looking clever, so get those guys over there working too.¡± ¡°Uh, yes ma¡¯am,¡± she said as she followed my gesturing hand. I was just making a vague wave across the floor we were on. Half of the area was taken up by one of those open spaces that looked onto the floors below and above that malls liked so much because it made them look so much bigger. The Second Lieutenant ran off to do as I¡¯d asked, which was something I could get used to. In the meantime, I turned my attention towards Myalis. ¡°Nanobombs first,¡± I said. ¡°Enough to mess up the hive. I think price is a secondary concern here. Besides, they should pay for themselves.¡± If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. They should, though don¡¯t expect them to be too profitable. Vanguard receive fewer points the more degrees of separation there are between themselves and a kill they score. ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°Okay, I guess.¡± Was it a way to keep samurai from making a literal killing without having to do any killing? I supposed that I¡¯d been losing points here and there while using drones. Don¡¯t worry. Most of the drones you¡¯ve used have been deployed in close proximity to yourself. And any trap, explosive, or mine that you lay yourself doesn¡¯t suffer from any point-based penalties. ¡°Is it all there to slow progress down, or to discourage us from sitting at home buck naked while making a fortune?¡± I asked. Why not both? Besides, you¡¯re not as interesting when you¡¯re cooped up at home. I snorted. Chalk one up to the ¡°Protectors using us as entertainment¡± theory. Which honestly never sounded plausible. If humanity could have story-telling AI that rivalled the combined minds of every poet and author ever put together, then the Protectors could generate their own drama without having to involve the likes of me. ¡°Just get us the nanowhatever we need,¡± I said. Certainly. A case appeared at my feet, about a metre long and half as wide and tall, made of dark grey plastic with... was that my logo? The cat''s head with the grenade pin in its mouth was present, embossed onto the case. ¡°Really digging that logo, huh?¡± I asked. I am, yes. It is... I think Lucy would call it cute. I snorted. Well, whatever. It wasn¡¯t hurting me, and some Samurai, like Emoscythe, had a hard-on for branding and image stuff, so that might get them off my back. ¡°Is that one of the nanowhatever?¡± I asked. No. That¡¯s all of them. ¡°Really?¡± I asked. The box was large, but not that big. I could fit into it if I felt like contorting myself a little. Catherine, what do you think nano means? I rolled my eyes. ¡°Right, I see what you mean.¡± Lieutenant Smart ran back over, with two guys behind her dragging along one of those plastic-topped tables with unfolding legs. ¡°Ma¡¯am, we¡¯re bringing every table we have,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯ll take a moment though.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°So, Myalis and I were thinking. First thing¡¯s first, the box here is full of nano-shit that¡¯ll melt the aliens for us. The general should have the outline of the plan already. Give this to whomever¡¯s heading out to the museum.¡± I tapped the case on the ground next to me with the end of my boot. ¡°Thank you. We¡¯ll bring it over now.¡± ¡°Good. Now, we¡¯ll be equipping the civilians, right?¡± She nodded. ¡°So... yeah, Myalis, ideas?¡± You can either buy a few hundred samples of each piece of equipment separately, or you could buy kits of them. There¡¯s no real point saving either way, but the kits might make it easier to distribute to the civilians. ¡°I like that,¡± I muttered. ¡°So, a Hummingbird, something that packs a bit more punch? Then armour and a helmet with coms?¡± That¡¯s most of what I would suggest. I¡¯d also like to add a small first-aid kit and to include a rig with the armour for additional ammunition and supplies. That seemed perfectly logical to me. ¡°Doesn¡¯t have to be pretty, just needs to work and be idiot-proof.¡± It should be. For a main weapon I¡¯d suggest the Alley Purr, it¡¯s a suppressed smart-rifle with an IFF targeting lock to prevent accidental friendly-fire. Perhaps we can add some explosives as well, since you have the catalogues for those? I grinned. ¡°Spread the love? Sure. But... maybe Resonators? They¡¯re a staple of mine and they¡¯re hard to mess up. The worst collateral they¡¯ll deliver is deafness.¡± Certainly. Each kit will cost... ninety four points. I nodded slowly, then took into account how many points that was. ¡°Hey, Smart, how many civilians will we be equipping here?¡± ¡°There are eighty thousand in Downtown, or close to that, we don¡¯t have exact numbers. Only about two percent are volunteering for guard and combat duty though.¡± That¡¯s a thousand six hundred. And a thousand six-hundred times ninety four was... a lot. I opened a calculator app and punched into the numbers, then winced. That was way, way beyond my budget. ¡°How many people volunteered to do guard duty already?¡± I asked. ¡°You mean the green bands?¡± she asked. ¡°We have two hundred of those per rotation. Three rotations a day.¡± I punched in that number and liked it a lot more. ¡°Okay, so let¡¯s get half of them equipped then,¡± I said. ¡°We might be in this for the long haul, so let¡¯s not go too far. Oh, and Smart, this is expensive. Let¡¯s not have anyone running off with our gear, yeah?¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± she said. *** Chapter Twenty-One - Shouldering Chapter Twenty-One - Shouldering ¡°It¡¯s sad, but a lot of us just kind of stop trusting people. You can only save people only to see them destroy themselves so many times before you start to lose hope. But even when we¡¯ve run out of hope, we don¡¯t stop trying, do we? I think that might be part of what makes us Samurai to begin with. Uwu.¡± --Beatrice ¡°Hyper Cutie Zoom Ranger Sparkle Girl Bubble-chan!¡± Smith, during her Twitch livestream of the 2042 Canberra Incident. *** Myalis came through with the equipment. Each set came in a large case with my logo on the front and a number stamped beneath from one to three hundred. Each case opened up to reveal a suit within, as well as a helmet, a pair of guns, and a small bandoleer of grenades. The suits weren¡¯t the prettiest of things. More like jumpsuits crossed with skaterpunk outfits equipped with some padding around the torso and elbows and knees. The entire thing was set up so that someone wearing the suit could just pull on a few straps and parts of it would fold up and could be tied down with a velcro strap. Basically, they were about as one-size-fits all as a piece of clothing could be. The helmets were a bit large, but they were also clearly samurai-tech, even if it was on the cheaper end of things. Of course, the helmets had little stubs on the top that kind of hinted at cat ears. At this point I was too tired to argue. Second-Lieutenant Smart got a volunteer, one of the green-band civilians, and the man suited up while we watched. It was clear she didn¡¯t pick the shiniest mind in the world, but the guy figured it out in the space of a couple of minutes. In the end, he stood at what he probably thought was attention, his Alley Purr rifle held up before him and his back straight. ¡°That¡¯ll do,¡± I said with a nod. The equipment was supposed to be resistant to lower-tier antithesis threats, and I believed Myalis when she said so. The communications suite they had was rudimentary, but it wasn¡¯t awful. Enemies would be outlined in red, locations where they were needed would be at the end of a string of AR-pointers that only they could see, and allies were painted in green. It even came with built-in reticles. If the first three hundred proved halfway competent, then we¡¯d buy more sets and get more boots on the ground. I wasn¡¯t going to hold my breath though. I couldn¡¯t recall any situation when a samurai had armed a large group of civilians so that they could defend themselves, and looking at how excited and frankly kind of dumb the locals were being as the militia directed them to get suited up, I could see why. I wasn¡¯t going to be the one to order these folk around. For one thing, I didn¡¯t want to, and for another, I was far more likely to lead them into trouble. I¡¯d let the militia do all of the heavy lifting there. The militia who seemed one part envious, and one part amused. They looked like they wanted to get their hands on the civilian¡¯s guns, but the gear looked so generic and rather goofy that they were probably better off with their own military-surplus stuff. I left the area when I got a call from Gomorrah. ¡°Hey,¡± I said as I answered. ¡°Is everything ready on your end?¡± she asked. I looked back to the civvies still struggling to get into their jumpsuits. ¡°Uh, more or less coming along. Why, what¡¯s up?¡± ¡°Time¡¯s up,¡± she said. ¡°Franny is about ten minutes out, and I¡¯ve been following the progress of the militiamen bringing the nanomachines out, they¡¯ve reached the museum already.¡± ¡°So, we only have a few minutes left then,¡± I said. I don¡¯t know why it was so strange to have my plan coming together. ¡°How are the defences coming?¡± ¡°Honestly?¡± she asked. ¡°They¡¯re laughable. Sprout¡¯s planting more of his... plants, but it¡¯s not going to do much against a concentrated attack by a proper force of antithesis. This city is not ready for a proper incursion. I¡¯ve been buying automated defences and setting them up where I can, but it¡¯s only going to dampen the front of the attack, not stop it outright.¡± I chewed on my lip. She was probably right. Even the gear Lucy and Franny were bringing wouldn¡¯t do much. A couple of dozen laser turrets? They took a second or two to kill a single model three. If we were dealing with a proper swarm then they wouldn¡¯t even kill a fraction of them. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. I had a lot of points left, I could splurge on something to help, but I couldn¡¯t think of what. Mines? More cat drones? More equipment for the locals? The antithesis we¡¯d be facing would, presumably, not be in the greatest of shapes, but that didn¡¯t mean they were harmless. I couldn¡¯t see an easy way to just wipe them all out and keep everyone safe that didn¡¯t involve nukes. ¡°Cat?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Hmm? Sorry, my... brain isn¡¯t good at all of this,¡± I admitted. ¡°Just trying to keep up with everything. Uh, speaking of being a responsible human being, Myalis, can you AI-up a report with everything that¡¯s gone on so far and send it to the Family?¡± Certainly. Though I¡¯m curious as to why. ¡°I¡¯m sure you can think of a thousand reasons why it¡¯s a good idea,¡± I said. And I could list them in alphabetical order and include little crayon drawings with all one thousand, but that wouldn¡¯t satisfy my curiosity as to why you, specifically, want me to send this report. I huffed. ¡°Because... look, I¡¯ve heard too many stories about dipshits in middle management positions deciding to cover their asses by not telling people when they¡¯re swamped. Those stories are usually the ones that end with ¡®and then the unmaintained equipment failed and sixty thousand infants were born with extra limbs¡¯ and I don¡¯t want to be that sort of dipshit.¡± That¡¯s understandable. Well done. I glared at nothing in particular. ¡°Don¡¯t patronise me, Myalis.¡± I was being both literal and sincere. When and if I chose to be patronising with you, I¡¯ll be sure to point it out. And, to avoid hypocrisy, let me point out that the last statement I made was, in fact, meant to be patronising. I chuckled and shook my head. The bitch, living in my head and still thinking circles around me. ¡°Anyway, Gom, I¡¯m hoping we¡¯ll be able to hold out, but hope¡¯s not worth as much as bullets nowadays, so if you¡¯ve got ideas, I¡¯m all ears.¡± ¡°We have chokepoints already, provided by the way the buildings in downtown are laid out. If we can abandon the buildings on the outer edge, relocate everyone inwards, then we can turn the exterior parts of Downtown into a free killing zone. And... this is a little controversial, but I passed an idea over to Atyacus and he said it was plausible. You might like this one.¡± She sent over a file, and I opened it. It was a 3D render of downtown. Some of the buildings were red, all along the outer edge. I was about to ask what it meant when large red circles appeared near the base of those buildings and then all came crashing down like dominos. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I said. ¡°You want to create a wall of debris?¡± ¡°It might work,¡± she said. ¡°Controlled demolitions are more or less safe, and it¡¯ll create an impediment to any antithesis coming closer. Not to mention the artificial earthquake will be devastating to any underground hive structures.¡± ¡°And to the rest of the city. You think this place was built to code?¡± ¡°It¡¯s an idea,¡± she said innocently, as if she¡¯d just suggested a foursome instead of a massive demolition project. The problem was, as awesome as the idea sounded, I wasn¡¯t sure it would actually do much to slow the antithesis down, and then we¡¯d be stuck in the middle. ¡°I¡¯ll table that as plan D.¡± ¡°D?¡± she asked. ¡°For Destruction.¡± Or dumb, but I wasn¡¯t going to rain on her parade. ¡°Look, I¡¯m heading out of here. Do you think you can draw up a... I don¡¯t know, prediction-plan for where the antithesis will hit us from? We have a few ways to slow them down. It¡¯ll be nice if we can stall out long enough that the nanomachines rip them apart for us.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t assume that all of them will be impacted by those,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Or that they¡¯ll all die to a few nanomachines chewing at them. Some of the antithesis your drones spotted were large, Cat.¡± I tapped my foot on the ground to bleed off some of my nervous energy. ¡°Yeah. Big old baddies. I don¡¯t know what to do about them, Gom.¡± She chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s not that complicated. We burn them until there¡¯s nothing left but char.¡± I grinned right back. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s not so complicated,¡± I said. But the weight was still on my back. *** Chapter Twenty-Two - Welcoming Chapter Twenty-Two - Welcoming ¡°Arthur R Martin was the first person to ever be jailed for AI-related crimes. He used an open-source learning AI to create a model of the stock market, then let it run predictions until he was able to finally create a model that had a 68% accuracy rate for short-term stock changes. By giving this model the ability to reinvest in itself and letting it run, Arthur gained what was essentially an exponential amount of money, all the while his system improved itself and was soon leading the market. His initial investment was $10,000USD (190,000 credits today). Within a month he had $1,645,782,257USD. He was, of course, arrested, tried, and sentence to prison where he committed suicide by self-strangulation.¡± --It¡¯s Just Math, first edition, 2026 *** The nanomachines are in position to be delivered. I glanced up as Myalis delivered the message. I was heading out of the mall, except I realized when I was nearing the exit that I was a bit peckish, so I got into line at a spicy chicken place that was still operating despite the apocalypse. ¡°They are?¡± I muttered. Indeed. I¡¯ve confirmed it for myself, but General Wilkinson has sent you a text message to tell you that the team sent with the payload has arrived at the museum. Are there any reasons we shouldn¡¯t deploy the nanomachines? ¡°None that I can think of. Give them the green light,¡± I said. Then I had to step up and make my order. Mild spices, some rice, a random selection of toppings that I didn¡¯t care much about, all cooked by a greasy-faced twenty-something instead of the usual machine because that machine was shoved off to the side and was clearly inoperable. Probably couldn¡¯t get a good signal to the franchise headquarters so they just hired this guy to do all the work manually, like they used to in the past. And they¡¯re deploying. It will take some time to have all of the nanomachine slurry travel across the root system. ¡°Hmm, how long, more or less?¡± Between two and six hours. As more tunnels and branches are discovered, the time scale increases. ¡°Did we send nearly enough of those nanomachines to cover a system that extensive?¡± I asked. Given infinite time--and presuming that the antithesis stops growing--a single nanomachine would be enough. As it is, yes, the amount dropped should be enough to cover what has been uncovered so far. Though the harm they¡¯ll cause with so few acting at once will be light. I nodded along. ¡°Then we should dump more into the system. Maybe we can start by finding ways to access the bits of the hive under Downtown. If we poison those first then at least we won¡¯t have aliens crawling out behind our frontlines.¡± A sensible idea. I¡¯ll set the cat drones to find exit points that are nearer to the surface. I got my order, paid by connecting my augs to the store¡¯s tapless payment chip, and then headed off while undoing the front of my helmet so that I could stuff myself while walking. ¡°How are we doing with everything else?¡± I asked. Your untrained army of civilian conscripts are being mobilised to the front lines. Another group of civilians containing a number of civil engineers are building a second line of defences. Sprout has planted new plants along a full third of the outer perimeter. Manic and Arm-a-Geddon are taking care of a number of scouting antithesis and Gomorrah is installing remote-operated turrets along the first defensive line. ¡°Which direction are the antithesis that Manic and Arm-a-Geddon dealing with coming from?¡± I asked. The west, same as Lake Champlain. ¡°Hey, can you snoop around and see which direction most of the attacks and probes came from over the last few days?¡± Over seventy percent of all antithesis sightings and approaches have been from the west, with an additional twenty percent from the north and the remainder coming from the south and south-east. River Heights was taking those from the north, then, and the rest... All from the same direction as the lake? I didn¡¯t know if antithesis could swim, but I guess there was no reason they couldn¡¯t. They were plants, did they even need to breathe the way mammals did? Some models could certainly live underwater without any difficulty. I sense that you¡¯re thinking in the right direction. ¡°How many aliens are in that lake?¡± I asked. Likely a number that¡¯s much greater than you¡¯re ready to deal with. If you want, I can send a report to the Family. There are some vanguards who specialise in underwater combat and hive extermination. I nodded along, finished up the last bite of my chicken--mild was too spicy--and chucked it onto a pile of trash flowing out of the top of a trash bin. ¡°That¡¯s a good idea. Send it in, and if you can, mark it as important. I think my job here is to keep the civilians safe, not so much destroy underwater hives. It would be nice to get some support on that end.¡± The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Understood. Message sent. Also, Lucy and Franny are on approach. That perked me up. ¡°Where are they landing?¡± Instead of a straight answer, Myalis opened up a map of Downtown on one of my aug¡¯s screens and pointed to one of the buildings near the centre of the city with an upper-floor landing zone. ¡°Ping the General¡¯s staff, have him send a few techs over to grab the turrets. Ah, suggest that they place them on rooftops. Those turrets have decent range, right?¡± Relatively. They are lethal to most single-digit antithesis within three hundred metres, but the damage starts to fall off relatively quickly. We¡¯d turn the skies around Downtown into a no-fly-zone for aliens. It would give us all one less thing to worry about. Instead of walking all the way over to the building Lucy was heading towards, I took a bus. That was a little strange, but it made sense. The city had these automated trolleys that moved around on the ground level. Graffiti-covered things that smelled like piss and that creaked unnervingly as they moved. The people boarding these all wore armbands of different colours, and there was someone at the entrance scanning their bands to let them on. So, someone had turned the public transport into a sort of public logistics system for getting the civilians helping the defence of the city around. It made sense, which is why I was surprised to see it. The guy at the entrance didn¡¯t ask me for an armband or anything, he just stepped aside, wide-eyed, and let me in so that I could hang off one of those ceiling-mounted bars as we moved. The trolley didn¡¯t stop in front of the place I needed, but it was close enough. I moved to the front, nodded to the guy by the door, and jumped out while we were still moving. I had to jog for a bit to stop myself from falling, but it wasn¡¯t a big deal. I slipped into what was clearly a habitation building. A thousand shoe-box apartments jammed in next to each other. The ground floor was pretty enough, but I knew that every floor above that would have a ceiling that was no more than seven feet tall so that they could cram in a few extra floors to get more homes in. The place was filled, and I imagined it was only half because of the ongoing incursion. How many more people were stuck in Downtown, separated from their suburban homes? I waited in a dingy elevator and ignored the ads playing on every wall as we shot up to the topmost floor. Myalis must have overridden something because we didn¡¯t stop on any floors until we reached the top. The door dinged open and I stepped out into a shitty little corridor with none of the nice lighting, ads, or decorations that they¡¯d bothered to shove into the ground floor. Instead it was all corridors and low ceilings. It didn¡¯t take much to find the door leading into the building¡¯s top-most parking space. The area was wide open, with berths for hovercars and a landing strip down the middle. Holographic signs with directions and instructions hung all over the place. My timing, as it turned out, was pretty good, because just as I started looking around a van flew in and came to a stop by the entrance, kicking up dust and flinging wrappers aside. I waited as the van settled, then sprang forwards as the passenger side door opened and Lucy jumped out. ¡°Cat!¡± ¡°Hey!¡± I called back. Then she grabbed me for a hug and I couldn¡¯t help but match her laughter before I gave her a proper squeeze. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be waiting for me,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t you have big important samurai things to do?¡± ¡°Fuck ¡®em, as if I¡¯d care more about some backwater city than I would about meeting you.¡± She shook her head, then poked me in the chest. Or she tried to, at least. ¡°Urgh, you¡¯re all hard in that armour.¡± ¡°I¡¯d kinda think that¡¯s the point,¡± I said. ¡°Idiot,¡± she replied, and I could feel the love there. I tugged the front of my helmet off so that I could kiss her properly. If she wanted me to be soft, then I¡¯d give her all the soft she could ever want. ¡°We-- we have an audience you know,¡± she said. I glanced up and saw Franny who was blushing and trying very hard not to look like she was blushing. ¡°We do,¡± I agreed before stealing her lips again. ¡°Cat,¡± she whined, but it was almost a whisper, just for the two of us. ¡°She¡¯s still a little useless, so let¡¯s not scar her too much, hmm?¡± ¡°Fine,¡± I said. ¡°So, what made you come all the way out here despite me telling you not to?¡± She blinked. ¡°Since when are you my boss? I¡¯ll jump into danger if and when I please, thank you very much.¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Three - Cat Themed Tower Defence Chapter Twenty-Three - Cat Themed Tower Defence ¡°The changes happened slowly. So slow that even though all the scientists were screaming about it for years, we still failed to notice them. A winter without snow, a complete lack of any insects outside, a few days where the weather was so wild that we barely recognized it? It all paled next to the distractions we could afford ourselves.¡± --Excerpt from, On the Big Change, 2026 *** ¡°No, really,¡± I asked. ¡°Why¡¯d you come over?¡± ¡°Gomorrah explained to Franny what you were up to, and she explained it to me,¡± Lucy said as she reluctantly stepped out of our hug. ¡°So I thought I should come over and discuss the ecological and environmental impacts of unleashing a bunch of nanomachines to mulch aliens stuck underneath the city.¡± I stared. ¡°You¡¯re messing with me, right?¡± She grinned. ¡°Maybe?¡± I hugged her again. ¡°You¡¯re such an idiot,¡± I said. ¡°And yet I still managed to catch you with my evil ways,¡± she murmured. Lucy placed another peck on my cheek. ¡°Who¡¯s watching over the kittens?¡± ¡°Daniel is,¡± she said. ¡°Not the best of choices, but hey, they have everything they need and most of them are plugged into one feed or another. They don¡¯t cause too much trouble when they¡¯ve got their bread and circuses. Need help with anything here?¡± ¡°Around here?¡± I asked. Did I need Lucy¡¯s help with anything? What could Lucy help with in the first place? She was great with the kittens, but I wasn¡¯t sure if babysitting skills would really... actually, no, those skills would absolutely come in handy. ¡°Hey, how would you like to be put in charge of an army?¡± I asked. ¡°That sounds fun!¡± She said, ¡°Do I get a cool title? Admiral Lucy?¡± ¡°It¡¯s an army, I think that would make you a general,¡± I pointed out. ¡°As long as I get one of those nice uniforms with all the medals on my chest. I want to look like a third-world dictator¡¯s right hand woman.¡± I laughed, then nodded to Franny who was coming over. ¡°Right, let me give the two of you the rundown. It¡¯s not super complicated yet, but it¡¯s about to be. Also, hi Franny.¡± ¡°Hello, Cat,¡± Franny said with a nod. It struck me just how much like Gomorrah she was sometimes. Sure, she was a hot redhead with authority issues as opposed to a hot blonde with pyromania issues, but a lot of their mannerisms were the same. Maybe it was a byproduct of being raised close to each other? But then Lucy and I were plenty different and we were raised in the same shithole. ¡°So, what¡¯s the situation? Delilah is keeping me up to date a little, but I don¡¯t exactly have a full picture,¡± Franny said. ¡°Things are just about to get interesting,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ve launched an attack against the hives, but most of the hives... or just the one big hive I guess, is underground. They¡¯ve dug out these long tunnels across the entire city. They¡¯re full of water right now, which isn¡¯t a problem for the aliens.¡± ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be, the xenos are from space, being underwater is probably a lot more hospitable than vacuum,¡± Franny said. I nodded along as if I knew what she meant. ¡°Yeah. So, we sent down nanomachines to start eating away at them. They¡¯ll all start at the same time, which means that the hive will get a nasty wake-up call. And we¡¯re expecting it to react like anyone would when you wake up to a million little things trying to eat you all at once.¡± ¡°Oh, like when we had that bedbug infestation,¡± Lucy said. I nodded. Of all the insects not to go extinct, bedbugs just had to stay on the list. Mosquitos too, of course. ¡°Exactly like that. We¡¯re about to wake the fuckers up in the shittiest way possible and I bet they won¡¯t be happy about it. That¡¯s why we¡¯re working on arming the civvies and getting defences up, including the turrets you brought.¡± ¡°And how¡¯s that going?¡± Franny asked. ¡°Terribly,¡± I said. ¡°The locals have actually been helpful. Got a bunch of volunteers geared up for a fight, but against anything in big enough numbers or any really strong models we¡¯re basically screwed.¡± Lucy frowned, and if it wasn¡¯t so cute it might have been intimidating. ¡°And what are we doing about that?¡± Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t know what to do about it. In New Montreal we had the army and a bunch of strong samurai to back us up.¡± ¡°And now you¡¯re the big strong samurai,¡± she said. I nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. I don¡¯t exactly have everything I need to keep the entire Downtown area safe. None of my catalogues are geared towards strong defensive things and I don¡¯t know where to start when it comes to that kind of thing anyway.¡± Then I laid out the rest. At some point it became a bit of a rant but Lucy was used to my ranting and Franny took it well enough. Mostly, my problem was that the Downtown area wasn¡¯t ready to destroy the wider hive. The local samurai weren¡¯t equipped for it, and I couldn¡¯t be all over the place at the same time. Even if I bought a bunch of cat drones (which I was going to) it wouldn¡¯t do anything but stop the tide. Then, after listening for a while, Franny asked a question. ¡°Do you intend to fix all of this by tonight? Because that doesn¡¯t seem as realistic as treating this as a long-term project.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked. ¡°This is a siege, isn¡¯t it? You have walls, the enemy needs to get over or under them, but as long as you can repel them then... then it¡¯s just a siege. Not an actual prolonged battle like you fought in New Montreal a few days ago.¡± I ran that through my head a few more times. It made a lot of sense, and reframed things a little. If we treated this as a battle to keep the antithesis out as opposed as one to just kill them all, then our priorities when it came to defences changed a lot. And it would have to be a siege, because no matter what, there would always be more of the hive that we hadn¡¯t found spewing out more human-hungry aliens. ¡°You¡¯re smart,¡± I said to Franny who smiled demurely. ¡°I can see what Gomorrah sees in you.¡± And at that she blushed scarlet, the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose standing out in sharp contrast. I didn¡¯t have time to tease her much more than that since the militia finally showed up in a pair of vans. ¡°Right. Lucy, Franny, want to follow me? We¡¯re going to meet the General. Lucy, I¡¯m putting you in command of the civilian side of things.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°No one¡¯s handling that?¡± ¡°Oh, someone is, and they¡¯re doing a decent job of it, but I don¡¯t know who and I don¡¯t have time to figure it all out. Can you spend a bit of time figuring it all out and then keep me apprised? I¡¯ll give you a cat drone or something to keep you safe.¡± She was wearing my first samurai-bought jacket, the one with the holes and the burns and the cuts all across it, and I knew she had a gun stuffed away on her, but still, I¡¯d be happier if she had something more capable to play bodyguard. And watching over the civilians would let her help without being anywhere near the frontlines. ¡°That sounds fun,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Cool!¡± I tilted my head left and right, then gestured for Lucy to give me a minute before I walked over and found the militiaman in charge. As it turned out, they had orders to bring the turrets to ground level around some of the more important buildings in Downtown. I countermanded that with my own order, to place them on every available rooftop to snipe out any flying aliens that might be trying to swoop in. When I returned, Lucy was grinning. ¡°I like it when you take charge,¡± she said. Her tone set Franny off to blushing again. ¡°If you like it so much, why do I never get to be the one taking charge, huh?¡± ¡°I always let you look like you¡¯re the one in charge, what are you talking about?¡± she asked. I laughed. ¡°Alright. Save that energy for later. We have a lot of work ahead of us. Come on, I¡¯ll take the two of you to the mall?¡± ¡°Actually, I think I¡¯m going to fly back to New Montreal first,¡± Franny said. ¡°There are more turrets to bring over, and by the sounds of it you¡¯ll need every one you can grab. Say hi to Delilah for me.¡± ¡°Will do,¡± Lucy said. And with that, I had to get back to work. A small shift in my plans was in order, then we could get the show started. *** Chapter Twenty-Four - Holding On Chapter Twenty-Four - Holding On ¡°Syncore is one of the strangest evolutions in musical history. It started with 3d full-dive VR music experiences. Basically, a listener would be plugged into the music, feeling every note and visualising every beat. A fascinating but harmless way to enjoy music. Then that evolved. Audiophiles discovered methods to literally tap into their own synesthesia via high-end brain-augs that allowed them to taste, smell, feel and be the music. This, of course, became immensely lucrative for a certain genre of artists who discovered ways to create literally addictive music.¡± --Synesthesia Core, a History, 2042 *** I dropped Lucy off at the mall after directing her to Second Lieutenant Smart who seemed appropriately overwhelmed. ¡°Here,¡± I said as a box appeared next to me. A cat drone started to unfold itself from within. I¡¯d told Myalis to give me something with all of the bells and whistles to keep Lucy safe and what she provided was the size of a bengal tiger with enough armaments to make a modern main battle tank blush. ¡°That¡¯s a big kitty,¡± Lucy said as she stared at the drone. Its head came up to her chest, and even though its weaponry was hidden, there was no hiding the fact that it was a high-tech bit of samurai gear. ¡°It¡¯ll keep you safe,¡± I said. ¡°Just in case. Plus it¡¯s big and intimidating.¡± ¡°Are you saying I can¡¯t intimidate people on my own?¡± she asked. I grinned. ¡°As intimidating as you are in the bedroom, no, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re quite as scary as you¡¯d like to think you are.¡± She pouted, which was very cute, so I took a quick picture with my eye-aug for posterity. ¡°Fine. I guess we both need to get to work, then?¡± ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll see about keeping this city safer, you see about keeping it sane.¡± We parted with a last, not-so-quick kiss that left my head humming happily. Then, unfortunately, it was back to work for me. ¡°Did I miss anything?¡± I asked Gomorrah once I got her back on the line. I was exiting the mall for what had to be the tenth time today. The nun scoffed. ¡°Not much. The General and some of his guys found a second entrance point into the hive network, about a block past our outer perimeter. We¡¯re finding more and more of those. At this rate our defences are going to be a revolving door.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out,¡± I said. ¡°We can start by dumping more nanomachine drones in those nearer entrances.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fair. There¡¯s a militia transport heading to the mall, can you hand over more of those drones of yours with a fresh payload? The more we seed at the start, the better things will go,¡± Gomorrrah said. ¡°I can do that, yeah,¡± I said. I shielded my eyes from the sun--which was wholly unnecessary-- and glanced up at a militia-marked transport which was descending onto the road. ¡°I¡¯ve been talking to Atyacus, and we had an idea,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I¡¯m all ears,¡± I replied. ¡°When we start to attack the hive it might be a subtle attack, with the nanomachines propagating and chewing away at vitals, but they will notice eventually and we expect the hives to retaliate. What if we also prepare a second, immediate attack? The hives are all underwater from what I¡¯ve seen. The water will make certain options complicated, but it does make others easier. I¡¯m talking about setting up explosives and firebombs at key junctions to block them off entirely. A fluorine fire melting anything that approaches an intersection leading to the exit will definitely slow the antithesis down.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll have to be careful though. We don¡¯t want big explosions that¡¯ll knock the whole city down.¡± ¡°Fire isn¡¯t that explosive,¡± she said. I snorted. ¡°Yeah, but we can¡¯t use anything like that heat-bomb we used in New Montreal. Maybe... hey, does sound travel well in water?¡± ¡°Yes and no, waves travel further but most sound will be distorted. What are you thinking?¡± It was probably because I¡¯d seen Manic at work and her tech made me think of it, but I¡¯d been using resonator grenades almost for as long as I was a samurai. They were... not exactly fast, but they were fairly effective at weakening the enemy without harming any nearby allies. ¡°I have an idea. Let¡¯s fill the hive with resonator bombs. They¡¯ll vibrate the antithesis to the point that they¡¯ll fall apart, and it might be even better with water around. The longer they spend in the tunnels, the faster they¡¯ll fall apart. The nanomachines eating them up will only help.¡± ¡°That seems reasonable,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°And it doesn¡¯t preclude the use of firebombs as I suggested.¡± I laughed. That woman had a one-track mind sometimes. ¡°Sure, let¡¯s do it. Do you think the newbies have their own contributions to make?¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°Manic might have some of those resonators to give you, and Sprout has a few options of his own. Have you seen his plants?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think I have, no,¡± I said. ¡°Not from up close, anyway.¡± ¡°They¡¯re interesting. He¡¯ll be one of the more unique samurai out there, I think. At least, if he survives long enough. Between you and me, he¡¯s not great in a fight.¡± That was harsh, but I trusted Gormorrah¡¯s judgement there. ¡°We¡¯ll have to keep him off the front lines then? Or just keep him to places where militia and civilians can keep him alive?¡± ¡°That would work. He has potential, it¡¯s just that his path is a huge point-sink that¡¯s not giving him much personal power. Arm-a-Geddon is nearly the opposite. All personal power, no reach.¡± ¡°And Manic is a decent fighter overall, but she doesn¡¯t work well with others. Why did we end up babysitting the most complicated bunch of weirdos out there?¡± I asked. ¡°Because if they weren¡¯t strange, they wouldn¡¯t be samurai,¡± Gomorrah said. That was fair. I jogged up to the transport after it landed, and after a quick exchange with the militiamen within, I bought a few crates full of cat drones with more nanomachine payloads. I also bought a large case filled with resonators which had their timers replaced with remote-controlled detonators that we could all set off at the same time. From the sounds of it, Gomorrah was near one of the other holes and was slipping in her own payload with her own stealth drones. Hers weren¡¯t cat-shaped. She described them as wheels within wheels, whatever the fuck that meant. Things were progressing nicely. We were dumping more and more shit into the underwater hives, enough that they were going to regret ever installing themselves so close to Burlington, and the city¡¯s defences, even if they were a little rudimentary, were coming along. I ordered up a few of those cat-drone operated mortars like I¡¯d used in New Montreal. Of course, Myalis made it so that the mortar had wheels and one of the bigger cat drones had a yoke that they could pull the mortar with, but other than looking silly, they were still usable. From the sounds of it, Gomorrah had installed a few turrets of her own over some of the more important parts of the city. I got to see one hovering by. It was a ball with a sort of eye shaped flame-thrower in its middle and about a dozen wing-shaped hover engines attached to it. Were the extra wings supposed to be redundant? Well, whatever. By the looks of it, they also had integrated missile launchers--no doubt equipped with something like fuel-air bombs--and a few other toys strapped on. I was feeling pretty good about our chances. Which, of course, is when the news came in that everything had gone to shit ten minutes ago, and no one chose to inform me until now. ¡°What?¡± I asked the general, just to be clear. He sighed over the line. ¡°Ma¡¯am, I¡¯m afraid that the hive has become fully active just to the west of the River Heights area. The antithesis are pouring out of a hole next to some incomplete infrastructure and have begun assaulting the barriers around that part of the city.¡± He sent me a package that I opened. Live-feeds from a few guard stations around River Heights. I recalled those big towers with the guns atop them easily enough. Those guns were rattling out lines of fire into the accumulating bodies of model threes. The antithesis were charging the barbed-wire-covered barricades by the hundreds. A model six ignored some small arms fire and rammed into a cement wall hard enough that it cracked down the middle and buckled backwards. Someone clever tossed a grenade over the barricade and the explosion slowed the swarm down for a moment. ¡°Shit,¡± I said. None of our newer defences were in River Heights. In fact, I¡¯d pulled back militia from the area. ¡°Shit shit,¡± I muttered. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± the general asked. He was probably not enjoying hearing the person in charge mutter obscenities instead of doing anything useful. ¡°Alright, we can patch this up for now. We¡¯re moving up the time table for that area. Myalis, any nanomachines in those tunnels already? Yeah? Launch them early. Same with any resonators in the region already. Hurry things up that way. I need a line to Manic and Arm-a-Geddon, I need both of them moved to River Heights right now. I need Gomorrah too... maybe she can send a few of her drones over. And let¡¯s move some of our mortars towards that end of the city, they might be able to land hits from the edge of their range into the swarm.¡± I swallowed. ¡°General, tell your boys to hold out for five minutes. That¡¯s all I ask for.¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Five - Trickle Down Chapter Twenty-Five - Trickle Down ¡°While the very concept of trickle down economics was proven to be utter bullshit, we still haven¡¯t figured out whether the samurai¡¯s trickle down technology has the same bullshitty smell to it.¡± --Edward Denless, political commentator, 2032 *** Things went well for all of thirty seconds after I cut contact with the general. Then, of course, things got complicated. Arm-a-Geddon gladly accepted a ride to River Heights onboard a troop-transport loaded up with militia guys. They¡¯d reinforce the front line over there, which was getting complicated. The militia had cameras lined up so that I could check on things with some ease, and from the looks of it they were getting swarmed mostly by small-fry antithesis, but I didn¡¯t think that would last. Gomorrah agreed to send some of her drones over, which meant three of them were flying across the gap between River Heights and Downtown already. They were going to lay down some literal fire on the antithesis. That would help, but her drones weren¡¯t the fastest things around, so we had a minute or three to wait before they arrived. In the meantime, I had to deal with Manic. ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t want to?¡± I asked. Manic didn¡¯t sound impressed over the line. From what I could tell she was sitting by one of the walls on the west end of the city. ¡°I mean I don¡¯t wanna. Never been told no before?¡± ¡°Fuck,¡± I said. ¡°The people there--¡± ¡°Are spoiled rich fucks. They¡¯ve decided to hole up in their little mansions. Let them.¡± I ground my teeth together. I couldn''t even be angry, her attitude was exactly how I would act and... wait, did that mean that I was a bitch? Shit. It wasn¡¯t time for self-reflection. ¡°Fine,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re staying by the area you¡¯re in?¡± ¡°If the plant fucks are moving on River Heights, they¡¯ll be hitting Downtown soon. I¡¯ll break them before they get far.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°You do that.¡± I cut the line off and took a deep breath. Now what? Manic would have been useful in River Heights. She had a lot of AOE stuff as far as I could tell, and she was good in a scrap. I placed her higher than Arm-a-Geddon and Sprout as far as combat abilities went, but she wasn¡¯t available, so I¡¯d have to live with that. Your ride is here. I glanced up and stared as a massive vehicle lumbered along the road, taking up two of the three lanes that bisected Downtown¡¯s centre. The militia had a single mobile base, and I imagined the reason for that was related to their budget. The mobile base was an eight-wheeled, two-bus-long thing that was squat and fat. It had gun emplacements on the front, sides and rear, and looked like it could just barely manage to move at a double-digit speed provided it was going downhill. It had escorts, of course, a half-dozen armoured trucks with mounted machine guns on top of them. They all had Burlington Crowd Control stencilled on their sides. The machine came to a grinding stop, a door on the side opened and a set of hydraulics whined as steps dropped to make it easy to get in. An officer type jumped out and jogged over. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± he said. ¡°The general wanted to invite you into the mobile command centre. We¡¯re at your disposal, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°And where¡¯s the general?¡± I asked. ¡°Headquarters, ma¡¯am,¡± he said. I shook my head. ¡°Alright, I think... you know what, screw it. Let¡¯s go. Can you drive this thing to the west side of Downtown?¡± ¡°We can,¡± the soldier said. ¡°How close to the defences do you want to be?¡± ¡°What¡¯s the range on the turrets on this thing?¡± I asked as I headed in. ¡°Three hundred metres, optimally,¡± he said. ¡°Then about that far,¡± I said before grabbing a handhold and pulling myself up and into the mobile base. I wouldn¡¯t be staying in there for long, I knew that the moment I stepped in. The interior was like a mobile home, but cramped, with every spare bit of space used up for something. Storage, both guns and MREs, not including the other supplies, and then there was seating for a dozen, as well as a whole medical section and an area where the walls were covered in screens. The militia only had one person jacked into the mesh onboard this land-boat. I didn¡¯t bother heading to the front where the driver was sitting. The mobile base started to move with a faint lurch and I stepped into the electronics and command area and looked over the screens in a hurry. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. It looked like every street-side camera was being used to paint a somewhat decent picture of Downtown and a bit of the space beyond that. A representation of the city was on one screen, with various areas coded in different colours and militia positions marked with green triangles. Some spaces were painted a deep red, and a little legend off to the side said those were critical infrastructure. ¡°What makes those things critical?¡± I asked while pointing to the screen. Surprisingly, it was the guy laying down on a compact Mesh bed that answered. An avatar appeared on one of the screens, and as the avatar spoke with its voice coming from a set of speakers tucked away somewhere, the guy on the bed spoke at the same time. Of course, his avatar was some anime chick and he looked like he was on the wrong end of his thirties. ¡°Ohiyo! The critical infrastructure includes two data centres, the Burlington Private Hospital, and the city¡¯s three privately-operated nuclear reactors.¡± ¡°Why the fuck does the city have privately-operated nuclear reactors?¡± I asked. ¡°For... power?¡± the anime-girl on screen said. She looked far too sassy compared to his real body. Her real body? I wasn¡¯t sure which applied. Digitalized gender was a confusing mess that I wasn¡¯t going to get into. ¡°I guessed that much,¡± I said as I stepped closer to the screen with the map. The map then shifted to one of the larger screens without my prompting. It looked like most of the critical-red infrastructure was more or less in the centre of the city. The exceptions were on the north and south ends, fortunately. I added a reminder to myself to worry about that later. ¡°Okay, how are things in River Heights?¡± ¡°Not going so good,¡± the anime girl avatar said. The main screen switched to what was obviously the helmet-cam of someone on the front lines over there. They were manning one of those big chain-fed guns which rattled and barked out lines of fire that ripped apart aliens. They¡¯d gotten to the point where the bodies were starting to stack up and form little barricades of mulched flesh. I could almost smell the scene. Gunpowder and that strange mowed-grass scent the antithesis gave off when they died. A glance at the local map suggested they had all of seven guys holding the line, a line which was as wide as a nice upperclass street, the sort with wide sidewalks and houses with yards on the side. ¡°Shit,¡± I muttered. ¡°It¡¯s not looking so good,¡± the avatar said. ¡°Myalis, where are my mortars?¡± They¡¯re moving into position. It¡¯ll take another three minutes until the first has a clear line of fire. Gomorrah¡¯s drones will arrive in four minutes, and the transports with reinforcements and Arm-a-Geddon will be in place in seven. I watched as the gunner mowed down another line of antithesis, but one of them, a scrappy little model three, slipped past the fire, jumped onto a sandbag, then latched onto the face of one of the militia men. His buddy next to him was quick to turn and punt the alien off, then he fired three rounds centre-of-mass, putting it down while the guy who¡¯d been thrown back scrambled to pick up his rifle again. ¡°Yeah, no,¡± I said. We were doing something to help. Many somethings, but I wasn¡¯t going to watch as these guys just died because the help I¡¯d sent their way was too slow. ¡°Myalis, I need something that can hit their location now,¡± I said. I have a multitude of options! ¡°Got rockets or something? Just a quick up-down-kaboom?¡± Not point-efficient, but I certainly have a few options. ¡°Let¡¯s not fuck around,¡± I said as I started to walk towards the back of the base. I¡¯d noticed a ladder leading up to the roof as I did my mini-tour of the vehicle. I grabbed on and climbed up and out the top. I expected it to be windy but... well, we were moving at a walking pace. Myalis was quick to give me a crate that had what was obviously a rocket launcher within. I picked it up, aimed high, and let loose, the backsplash scorching the top of the mobile base even as the rocket screamed into the sky. Damn it was nice to feel useful sometimes. *** Chapter Twenty-Six - Intel-chan Chapter Twenty-Six - Intel-chan ¡°A cult is, in essence, one of the best businesses you can possibly run. The cost of running your own cult is extremely low, and the power, credits, and influence you gain from running a cult cannot be overstated. Here at C.P. Morgan¡¯s Cult and Pseudoreligion Department, we have experts of all sorts to prepare you and your fledgeling cult for the future and to ensure a happy, healthy, and profitable following.¡± --C.P. Morgan, CPD Pamphlet, 2035 *** ¡°That helped,¡± the anime girl avatar said as I returned. The screen had a view from that same gunner¡¯s helmet, only this time he was looking at a crater with some antithesis bits on the edges while bits of dirt were still raining down from above. More aliens were coming, but now they had to go around or through the pit in the ground, and I suspected the shock had slowed them down a little. All the guards needed was a little bit of time to reset though, and they¡¯d been given that. Now if only Arm-a-Geddon and Gomorrah¡¯s drones could hurry up and get there, then we wouldn¡¯t have as many issues. Or maybe we would. ¡°Myalis, can you give us a heatmap of Antithesis locations?¡± I asked. The screen shifted, and the anime girl avatar found herself flickering over to another nearby screen. She frowned, looking peeved at the sudden motion but didn¡¯t complain. The screen now showed a map of Burlington, with some parts painted blue, while plenty of areas were shaded in oranges and deeper reds. The areas along the edges of Downtown and River Heights were clearly marked, and both had a decent amount of red right next to them. ¡°There are as many antithesis right up against River Heights as there are next to Downtown,¡± I said. That is correct. So we¡¯d need to defend River Heights against the same number of xenos as Downtown. That... wouldn¡¯t work out. We didn¡¯t have the ability to do that, we didn¡¯t have the manpower, and I didn¡¯t have the time to take care of two places at once. For the time being, my plan was to protect Downtown and let River Heights take care of itself, but if it was going to face a tide as heavy as what I suspected was going to hit Downtown, then the whole place was fucked. ¡°We need to evacuate River Heights,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, can you send Baker a text? Tell her to organise everyone to leave River Heights. They have half an hour.¡± I imagine she won¡¯t like that. ¡°She¡¯s not gonna like that,¡± the anime girl said. ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± I replied to both at the same time. ¡°We can¡¯t afford to split our attention, not for long in any case. So let¡¯s not. Get the civilians from River Heights to Downtown, shove them somewhere where they won¡¯t be trouble, and then pull back all the troops we¡¯re wasting over there. The place has automated defences, right?¡± ¡°It does,¡± the anime girl said. ¡°Turret emplacements, shaped charges, deployable denial-of-passage cover, and a few other things as well. River Heights invested heavily in its own protection about twelve years ago. The systems are dated, but they¡¯ve been maintained.¡± ¡°They didn¡¯t have the budget for the same defences around the rest of Downtown?¡± I asked. ¡°Some were installed, but a number of installations were stolen and the city decided not to keep up the maintenance of those in the... financially disadvantaged areas.¡± I should have seen that coming. I couldn¡¯t even be angry. I was totally the type of shit to steal a city-placed thing to make a quick buck if the opportunity arose. ¡°Alright, fine,¡± I said. ¡°Can we set their automated defences to distract the antithesis once we¡¯ve evacc¡¯d all the civilians from the area? It¡¯ll maybe keep one front busy while we take care of the rest.¡± ¡°Tactical genius,¡± the avatar said. ¡°Shut up... whatever your name is,¡± I said. ¡°Intel-chan,¡± Intel-chan, apparently, said. I think now would be a good time to deploy the nanomachines. We need them to disperse after deployment and it will take some time before they start to have any noticeable effects. I nodded. ¡°Alright, launch the nano-whatsits, if the people on the edges of Downtown aren¡¯t on high alert yet, now would be a good time to inform them that shit¡¯s about to hit the fan.¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°Sending a militia-wide communique,¡± Intel-chan said. Then, to my horror, she did some moe bullshit with her hands and little sparkly hearts raced across the screens. ¡°Sent! I sent a memo to the civilian defence as well. They have a new operations lead.¡± ¡°Lucy?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s the one,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Is she a specialist you brought in?¡± ¡°Uh, yeah, something like that,¡± I said, feeling a little self-conscious about the choice. Was putting Lucy basically in charge a good idea? If she messed up, then people might actually die, and then I¡¯d be to blame for putting Lucy in a position where she was responsible for that kind of thing, which didn¡¯t sound like something a good girlfriend should do. ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s whipped them up into a frenzy. I haven¡¯t seen people this pumped since the last big idol show,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Is she like, one of those social experts that train in cult creation?¡± Or maybe Lucy would just be Lucy and would manage everything far better than I expected. I¡¯m helping her where I can. Mostly with logistics. Don¡¯t worry overly much, if anything goes too wrong I can alert you. In the meantime, this is a nice learning opportunity, don¡¯t you think? I let out a held breath. ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s pretty fantastic,¡± I said. I looked for a place to sit, found none, then placed my hands on my hips, then let them fall. I didn¡¯t know what to do with myself. I¡¯d heard, in passing, that being a soldier was a lot about hurrying up to wait, but I¡¯d never really lived it myself. At the moment I had a dozen plates spinning, but I couldn¡¯t do anything until one of them started to wobble and fall. Myalis was kind enough to overlay the nanomachine spread atop the antithesis heatmap, with a more accurate diagram showing the location of the tunnels under the city, or what we¡¯d scouted out of them so far. Most of the bigger tunnels had been found, from the looks of it, but there were dozens of little branches that didn¡¯t look any bigger than a person that spread out every which way. Sometimes they reconnected with the rest, other times they spilled out into little underground chambers that I was certain were filled with plenty of hive flesh. Once this incursion was stopped dead, we¡¯d have to spend a few billion searching out the entirety of the underground for those little pockets. That would be someone else¡¯s problem. ¡°Problem,¡± Intel-chan said. She spun both hands around, then pointed to an area on the map. ¡°Street cameras in this area have captured this.¡± One of the side screens showed a group of model threes pouring out of a nondescript building¡¯s side. They¡¯d slammed the door out of the way and were stumbling out, first a few, then a good dozen of them followed by a model four. One of its tentacles flopped off and fell onto the ground where it was trampled by the others. All of them were looking like extras in a zombie movie, with flayed skin and lumps of flesh looking like they were ready to slough off of them. One model three looked like it was having a fit, shaking its head before it charged across the street and rammed hard into the side of a building on the other side. ¡°Oh hey, your thing worked,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Congrats.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, flatly. ¡°Myalis, can you set off the rest of the bombs we have down there whenever it would be best?¡± I can. I think I¡¯ll wait until each one will hit the largest number of antithesis. ¡°Cool,¡± I said. Now, where was that group? More and more aliens were pouring out of what was clearly one of the places where their tunnels rose up to the surface. A glance at the map revealed that it was about a block west of Downtown¡¯s outer defences. ¡°Intel, can you alert that end of the wall that they¡¯re going to have company soon? And if you have a line to Manic, ping her as well, she¡¯ll want to be on the front lines.¡± ¡°Can do!¡± Intel-chan said. She didn¡¯t need to make a little heart with her hands though. I made a note not to introduce Daniel to this guy because this was exactly the kind of crap he¡¯d get into and I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted that in my life. After the initial excitement of seeing the Antithesis finally appearing, I got to wait some more. This whole leadership thing wasn¡¯t nearly as fun as just being on the front lines blowing shit up, I realised. *** Chapter Twenty-Seven - Walk the Walk Chapter Twenty-Seven - Walk the Walk ¡°Notice: We need new books for the K-2 classes. The phonetic alphabet books we have right now are all animal-based, and the teachers are tired of having to stop every few letters to explain that certain animals (B for bee, C for crab, E for elephant, J for Jaguar, P for Penguin ... etc) no longer exist. It¡¯s causing some of the kids a lot of distress. Maybe replace the animal alphabet with brands? Thank you.¡± --Notice posted on Teacher Group Chat, 2029 *** I stood there with Intel-chan¡¯s occasional remark and the updating report from the screens for all of five minutes, before I decided that I would be more of a front-line kind of general. ¡°I really want to be shooting things,¡± I said. The mobile base was a block away from the front line, not that the antithesis had breached the line just yet. There were more and more of them showing up though, some half melted, dying before they even got close enough to be worth shooting, others looking almost entirely intact. I suspected that we¡¯d missed some chambers and tunnels underground. Not a big deal, we could stomp them out once they came closer. The militia were out in full force, which while nice to see, was also a little worrying. What would happen when they tired out? I couldn¡¯t expect to hold them at full attention for hours on end. The volunteers under Lucy were going to take up some of that slack. Already I could see where a number of them were waiting on the front lines, with about half of them holding back for the moment, but they¡¯d tire out too. Probably faster than the militia, really. Basically, the best case scenario for us was a single, big flood of aliens that led to a single, big fight. If the antithesis decided to turn this into a prolonged siege, then the people working to keep Downtown safe wouldn¡¯t be able to keep up. We were human. We got tired, hungry, and jittery. Even most companies understood that sixteen hours of constant labour meant a hard decrease in the quality of that labour. The antithesis didn¡¯t have that concern. Sure, individually I was sure some of them would tire, but it didn¡¯t take a hive sixteen hours to create a fresh batch. ¡°If you want, you can climb on the roof and shoot at the walls,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°We¡¯re only a couple of hundred metres away.¡± As if I could land a shot at that kind of range. ¡°Hmm, no, I think I¡¯d rather be close up to the front lines.¡± I looked at the screen that had... well, calling it troop-movements would be lying since neither side had anything like troops, but it was close enough. The tide of antithesis was being somewhat agreeable at the moment with the way it lurched towards the most heavily-defended parts of our perimeter. ¡°Oh hey, the nun¡¯s fighting a model thirteen.¡± I whipped my attention around until I found the right screen. It was a screen-camera view of the front. Everything was covered in fire, which was rather predictable with Gomorrah involved. The nun herself was jumping to the side and rolling, showing surprising manoeuvrability for someone wearing a habit. Ahead of her, half on the wall, was a huge model thirteen, one of those rare aliens with three tubular bodies linked together by long appendages. It was holding itself off the ground with some tentacles while others were moving so quickly the camera had a hard time capturing them as anything but artefacts. I could see where they hit though. Asphalt cracked and chunks of concrete exploded apart. Gomorrah returned literal fire, bathing the monster in flames which seemed to make it all the more energetic. She was good, dodging back and weaving around strikes that I was pretty sure would have splattered me. The model thirteen slowed, slumped, then fell to the ground, a burning wreck that Gomorrah nonetheless covered in more fuel as if to make sure nothing was left of it but ashes. ¡°Fuck,¡± I said. ¡°Big payday!¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°What?¡± The anime avatar grinned. ¡°Do you have any idea how rare model thirteen footage is? That¡¯ll be worth a pretty penny for me.¡± ¡°You might not be able to spend that pretty penny if there are model thirteens on the battlefield,¡± I pointed out. ¡°Wait, what are they doing out here?¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The non-traditional structure of the hive, combined with our vector of attack might have moved the model thirteen to search for a threat outside of the hive. They rarely survive long once disconnected from the hive structure, so it¡¯s uncommon to see them on the battlefield. Nonetheless, this battlefield is right atop of the hive itself. We are likely to start seeing more. And there was no way the normal folk out there were prepared to deal with a double-digit alien. ¡°Myalis, I need to know where the next one of those will be popping up. I¡¯m going to intercept if I can, and send Gomorrah if I can¡¯t. Maybe... let¡¯s divide the front into thirds? Sandwich Manic between Gomorrah and I.¡± The main front was, conveniently, placed along three larger roads that crossed the city from west to east, so we¡¯d basically each get a spot. The mobile base was parked in the middlemost of these, which was fine. Manic was newest, she might need the additional firepower. I started to walk out. ¡°Intel, you¡¯ve got my number, yeah?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got it!¡± Intel-chan said with a thumb¡¯s up. ¡°Keep in touch if anything happens,¡± I said. I opened a secondary screen in the periphery of my augmented eye and let Myalis play around with it for a bit. Soon enough I had a well-laid out list of statistics, an antithesis heatmap, and the IFFs of all of our troops. The position of all of the other samurai were there as well, with little logos for all of them, and a big L in a heart for Lucy too. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. It costs me little and will allow you to make better, more informed choices. Speaking of which, there are a number of things you could purchase to improve the defensive capability at the front. I nodded along as I slipped through the mobile base, then jumped out of one of its side entrances. It was guarded by a single militiaman who looked like he was a year or two younger than me and who was swimming in his loose uniform. I hoped that the reason he was back here was because the General was trying to keep his less experienced folk out of the firing line. ¡°Let¡¯s see how things are going at the front first,¡± I said. After all, most of the things I could purchase would start working right away, at least if they were things like more cat drones and additional mortars and the like, which is what I suspected Myalis was aiming for. I walked across the street, noting that it was nearly empty near the barricades but further in, behind some cement half-walls, a number of people were loitering. Most of them had armbands, yellow, brown, green, but a few were just standing around and watching. Were they gawkers? Some had equipment around, and I caught one group using the first floor of a restaurant as a staging ground for a big community kitchen. So, we had logistics this close to the front? A few ambulances were sitting idle not too far off, with nervous EMTs (with white and red armbands) standing near. Catherine. A trio of model fifteens have been sighted heading towards your part of the defences. Model fifteens... those were the nasty artillery models that could spit out large, explosive seed things that sent fragments all over the place. Not the toughest of the antithesis, but annoying, and they¡¯d force our defenders into cover while the weaker models charged forwards. ¡°I¡¯m on it,¡± I said as I picked up the pace. This wasn¡¯t the time to be strutting around and taking in the sights. I ran through an alleyway, and found it blocked off at the end, which was nice, we didn¡¯t need the aliens slipping around things. Less nice was that I had to jumpjet my way over the obstruction to land on the road I¡¯d be defending for the moment. At the far end, a pile of debris, old cars, and chunks of metal welded together into the semblance of a wall stood between Downtown and the aliens. A few holes were cut into the defences so that stationary guns could be pointed out through it. Those were rattling already, and I saw a number of people running around with cases full of ammunition while above, one of Gomorrah¡¯s angel-drones spat a line of fire onto what I imagined were some well-cooked aliens. Yeah, this was more like it. Much more fun than waiting in place and telling people what to do. *** Chapter Twenty-Eight - Morale Chapter Twenty-Eight - Morale ¡°Morale, while not a factor that is easy to quantify, is nonetheless an important measure of the potential success of troops on an active battlefield. For this reason, it is usually a good idea to allow your troops to see any local samurai at work. Nothing inspires hope like the casual disregard for death and the destructive capabilities of a samurai in action.¡± --Morale and Victory, officer¡¯s training tips #358, 2039 edition. *** I ran up one of the ramps set up behind the wall, then paused near the top as soon as I could see over the defences. The aliens approaching us weren¡¯t quite like the tides I¡¯d seen in the defence of New Montreal. Those tides had been so thick that I couldn¡¯t see the ground past all the antithesis, and they went on basically forever, with no breaks in their formation except where a shell went off to create one, and even those were temporary. Here, the formations were a lot patchier. With trios of aliens running together and the occasional larger group. Often, some bigger, slower xenos were running on their own, too slow to keep up with the much faster and more common model threes. The remote-controlled and human-operated guns nestled in the wall spat at the aliens, short, loud bursts that ended with a few corpses rolling across the pavement. Those that managed to get close anyway got to meet Gomorrah¡¯s drone, which hissed out lines of liquid fire onto them and turned the aliens into rolling balls of flame. The smoke might actually be a problem later if it interfered with our vision. Then again, it also removed the corpses, turning them to ash before they piled up so high that they became an obstruction, or worse, a ramp of dead flesh. So far, things seemed alright. Then I ducked down with a curse as something smashed into the wall some ten metres off to my left with a huge bang. The metal under my feet rattled and I grabbed on until the shivers passed. When I looked up again, I saw the broken remains of a large chitinous wheel, its edges cutting into the wrecked cars and cement barriers that made up the wall. Little spines had sprayed out from around where the wheel impacted, and even now some of them were falling down around us, sticking into the ground on the safe side of the wall. No one was hit, but I imagine some of the gunners were spooked. If that had hit one of the little openings... yeah, that would mean one gun down, and maybe a couple of volunteers dead too. I glanced down the road, looking for the model fifteen that had spat that. Myalis helped, highlighting three figures without me having to ask. One was on the road a ways away, protected by model fives on either flank and moving forwards on its little legs even as its gut swelled and I imagined it was preparing to launch another wheel. The other two were better hidden, both of them in a building off to the right. It was some storefront, but the middle floors of the building were taken up by paid parking spaces. The walls on the street-side had been torn apart, giving the model fifteens somewhere to shoot from. As I watched, one launched one of its wheels. The massive spinning lump of antithesis flesh smashed into the road, spinning so fast that it tore up the topmost layer of asphalt before that spin turned into forwards movement and it zipped across the gap on a wobbling path towards the wall. I locked onto the wheel and my shoulder-mounted guns popped out of their housings and fired. The whip-like crack of two railgun sabots ripping through the air echoed across the street and the wheel imploded as holes were punched into its structure. That didn¡¯t end it though. As the wheel exploded, it unravelled, sending a whole swarm of long, thin needles scattering into the air. The aim was atrocious, and most of them were flung right into the ground or at an angle where they wouldn''t do much, but there were so many, and they all moved in the direction of the wall. I ducked down again and winced as a few needles whistled past. ¡°Motherfuckers,¡± I swore. Someone screamed, and as I glanced back, I saw a green-armband volunteer panicking at the sight of a needle embedded in his chest. A medic ran over and tackled him to the ground, and soon they were applying some sort of gauze-spray over the wound and dragging the guy to cover. Stolen novel; please report. He¡¯d live, I figured. If he had the energy to scream, he was probably going to be alright once the medics got done with him. The blow to morale though... Fighting an enemy was rough, but if it was a fight, that meant that you had a chance to win. Getting fucked over by an enemy you couldn¡¯t see or do anything about? Just sitting there and waiting your turn to die by big needle or enemy teeth? Yeah, that would break someone¡¯s nerves sooner than later. ¡°Myalis, can you connect me to... Intel-chan, I guess.¡± Certainly. ¡°Yo,¡± Intel-chan¡¯s voice said in my ear even as her avatar popped into being in a box at the edge of my vision. ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve got the nice tech in here.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said, dismissing that. ¡°I need you to relay shit to whoever¡¯s in charge of this section of the wall. I don¡¯t have time for a meet and greet, not while we¡¯re being shelled.¡± ¡°I can do that,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Good. Tell them that I¡¯ll be right back and for the gunners not to shoot me, please. I¡¯m pretty sure it wouldn¡¯t do anything, but it would annoy me and waste ammo.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah, alright.¡± With that said I stood, grabbed onto the edge of the wall, then vaulted over it. The far side of the wall was covered in rough spikes, jutting spars, and in general, wasn¡¯t designed to be pretty or easy to climb, but I managed to find a few places to put my feet as I jumped down. Once on the ground, I whipped out my Laser Pointer and started walking. I stomped over a few corpses, then edged around some piles of burning alien flesh. It took until I was a good dozen metres from the wall before I was close enough that the antithesis started to really notice me. With the gunners very carefully not shooting close to me, that meant that as a trio of model threes ran my way, nothing opposed them. Until I raised my gun to my shoulder and pulled the trigger. I scored a line of fire across the trio, then side-stepped their bodies which were carried forwards by their running momentum. ¡°Hmm, I need something with a bit more punch, ammo-wise,¡± I said. You¡¯re currently using armour-piercing thermite-tipped tracer rounds. Do you want something with more stopping power? Something explosive, perhaps? Or just a round that¡¯s heavy enough to stop them in their tracks? ¡°Just something with a lot more kick,¡± I said. I was having a hard time describing what I wanted because I wasn¡¯t sure what I wanted to begin with. Coming right up. The bottom-rear of the gun opened up, and a cylinder fell out and clunked to the floor, only for the gun¡¯s weight to shift back up as it closed and as a new magazine was teleported in. ¡°Heavy,¡± I said as I weighed the gun. It had gained a couple of kilos, I was sure. Depleted Iridium rounds. They burn, are highly radioactive, and have a half-life with only hours remaining. They are also quite heavy and the rounds are specifically designed not to penetrate too deeply. I shrugged, then aimed at a salivating model three charging at me from down the road. It was still a few dozen metres away when I feathered the trigger to fire as small a burst as I could. The kick was a lot more than I was used to, but seeing the model three backflip, all of its forward momentum stopped dead, was more than satisfying enough to make up for that. I continued my enthusiastic walk, brrt¡¯ing any aliens that came too close and letting my railguns handle any that wanted to skirt around. As I came closer to the model fifteen, it turned its attention towards me, and I saw its stomach sack expanding as it prepared to launch another wheel at me. ¡°Frag,¡± I said, my hand opening up by my side. A grenade landed in my palm, and on reflex I flicked it on, then tossed it ahead. It clinked on the ground, then bounced up and behind the model fifteen. I started to walk to the side, placing the alien between myself and the grenade, then I turned my attention to its guardians. The model fives were heavier, chunkier aliens than most. They didn¡¯t go flying as far when I peppered them with a few rounds apiece. Then the grenade went off with a loud ¡®whump¡¯ and I suppressed a flinch. The building across the street rattled as dozens of little holes were punched into its side. ¡°That¡¯s one down,¡± I said. Two more to go, and look at that, they were within explosives range! *** Chapter Twenty-Nine - Weaponized Cringe Chapter Twenty-Nine - Weaponized Cringe ¡°Stores slowly faded into obscurity as the 20s turned into the 30s. As we approach the 40s, an entire generation has grown up unfamiliar with the idea of walking into a retail location to buy anything more complicated than a frappuccino.¡± --The Decline--Consumerism and the Future, 2036 *** I took a little breather next to the corpse of a model fifteen. Or at least, the head bit of the corpse. The rest of its body was buried under the rubble of what used to be the front of a building. The facade hadn¡¯t taken kindly to my treatment of it, and I suspected the rest of the building would have to be taken down eventually because it wasn¡¯t in that great a shape anymore. What mattered was that the aliens hiding inside were dead. Or stuck under a few tons of torn up cement. In either case, no longer an issue for me. The miniature tide of aliens in their area had crawled to a stop, so I figured I was good for a little break, at least until more of them tore their way out of whatever hole they were hiding in. Of course, that¡¯s when I received a call from Intel-chan. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I asked as I connected to the... intelligence officer? What even was their rank? They must have been pretty good at their job if the militia endured their eccentricities. ¡°Oh-hiyo!¡± Intel-chan said as their avatar appeared in the edge of my vision, one arm waving over their head. ¡°So, we¡¯re kinda fucked back here, wanna help us, onegai?¡± I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to, not when I was being asked that way. ¡°What¡¯s the situation?¡± I asked as I stood up properly. All this fighting and stuff was really killing my back, even with the armour doing lots of the heavy lifting. ¡°Your girlfriend¡¯s army is finally moving up to the walls to relieve some of our militia boys, but we¡¯re spotting aliens on the inside of our defences. Particularly... right here, and here. I¡¯ve got militia stationed around the area with some of our light assault vehicles, but LAVs can only do so much and I don¡¯t want to send anyone into what might be a tunnel leading right into a hive.¡± I checked the map and noted that Intel-chan had highlighted two spots. They were a block or two into Downtown, so well past the first walls we had, but still on the outskirts of the parts of Downtown where people were actually living. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°How are things in River Heights?¡± ¡°Calming down on the alien front, doing the opposite on the people front,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Want me to tell your girlfriend to get on it? She seems good at motivating people.¡± ¡°Hmm? No, it¡¯s fine, I¡¯ll see to it in a bit. Are any of the samurai free right now?¡± ¡°Sprout is,¡± they said. ¡°Cool, send them to the smaller of the two holes. It can¡¯t be that well defended. And he needs the practice. Maybe send some of Lucy¡¯s troopers with him, or some militia guys. I¡¯ll plug up the other one myself.¡± ¡°Sending a message to Lucy-sama now!¡± I frowned. ¡°Do you... have a problem with Lucy?¡± I asked. Intel-chan shook their head almost violently. ¡°No way! I think it¡¯s super cute! When I found out that you brought your girlfriend here, I practically sugoi¡¯d!¡± ¡°Please, don¡¯t... don¡¯t weeb at me.¡± ¡°Hey! I¡¯m a third generation weeb you know. We¡¯re some of the most oppressed people in North America.¡± I decided not to poke at that, if only to preserve my own sanity. ¡°I¡¯m on my way back,¡± I said. So far, things have been going pretty well. Sure, new fires were popping up all over, but we were on top of them. Things could, and probably would, spiral out of control eventually, but eventually wasn¡¯t right now, so I contented myself with what I had. On the return trip to the wall, I flicked mines left and right, tossing them behind partial cover and through open, ground-floor windows and spots where I suspected a model fifteen or something might want to lurk in the future. It was a worthwhile investment, I figured, to trap this entire corridor. Even if only a third of the mines I left behind me went off and took out an antithesis or two then I¡¯d be in the black point-wise. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I reached the wall, searched for a way up, then noticed some of the militia guys pulling their gun aside in one of the openings so I went over there and swung my way through the entrance feet-first. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said as I passed them. The nearest of the holes Intel-chan had spotted wasn¡¯t too far off. Still, I was happy when a lightly armoured truck came around and stopped next to me. It was a pickup with the body replaced by armoured panels and the cab reinforced to take some hits. The front had a nice cow catcher bolted to it, and the bed at the back housed a big old machine-gun on a swivel mount. It needed a guy mounted on the gun to work, and I was pretty sure the truck was a plain-old commercial vehicle, but it worked, I figured, and was probably cheap besides. I grabbed onto the edge of the box and hauled myself into the back. Then I thumped the roof of the cab and we sped off across the city. I checked my gun one-handed while hanging onto the back of the cab with my other. It didn¡¯t take long before we reached a spot where the militia had created a temporary cordon blocking off the front of a building. The cordon wasn¡¯t anything too special. A trio of lightly armoured trucks, like the one I was riding on, and a couple of vans parked further back. Volunteers were stacking sandbags up across the street, creating a barrier onto which a team was fixing a machine-gun on a pod. As soon as the truck stopped moving I leapt off the back and landed with a huff. I didn¡¯t have much time to lose here. If I spent too long fixing this issue, three more would pop up while I was distracted. The militia didn¡¯t need me to micromanage anything, they were responding on their own, as were the people Lucy was directing it seemed, but I still wanted to be on top of things so that I could put pressure on the bigger problems before they got out of hand. ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± I must have still been on the line with Intel-chan because they answered almost immediately. ¡°The lieutenant in charge of that area forwarded reports of alien sightings to me, and I confirmed them. So we killed the loose aliens and traced them back to this one building here. They¡¯ve been coming out from the ground floor, but this building has a basement. No one wants to volunteer to go check it out.¡± ¡°Yeah, I can¡¯t imagine why.¡± The building in question looked like a toy store of all things, the kind of look-and-see outlet that let people interact with stuff before ordering it online. With the lights off inside and the barred windows at the front making what light did filter in strange, I wasn¡¯t too keen on walking in there myself. The dead alien bodies next to the entrance certainly gave the decor a certain flair. Blood didn¡¯t go well with pastels. ¡°Right, I¡¯m heading in. Quick-in-and-out,¡± I said as I started walking over. ¡°What¡¯s your plan?¡± Intel-chan asked. ¡°Walk in, find the place the aliens are coming in from, plug the hole,¡± I said. ¡°You know, they¡¯ll just make another hole,¡± Intel-chan pointed out. I nodded. ¡°There¡¯s always another hole, if you¡¯re willing to look for it.¡± ¡°Oh my.¡± I rolled my eyes, paused by the entrance, shouldered my Laser Pointer, then toggled on my invisibility. I could have done it earlier, but I wanted the militia guys to know that I hadn¡¯t just disappeared to leave them behind. I stepped over the bodies by the entrance, then pressed in, eyes on a swivel as I ignored all the toys laying around. The kittens would love this kind of place. Though they¡¯d touch everything and catch every sickness left by the last batch of snot-nosed brats to pass by. Maybe once this city was safe again, kids would be more concerned about toys than being eaten again. But that would only happen if I didn¡¯t suck at my job. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s find out where those alien fucks are coming from and put out one more fire, shall we?¡± ¡°I¡¯m rooting for you, desu!¡± *** Chapter Thirty - Dog Gone Chapter Thirty - Dog Gone ¡°In the early 2020¡¯s, on average, 69% of all households had a pet. Now, that number is closer to 36%! Now it¡¯s far less common to have a furry friend. That¡¯s why services like ours exist! Petpetzoo allows you to have your very own lifelong companion for as little as 1500Cr/Mo* for you to pet, cuddle, and play with, and you never need to bring them home!¡± --Petpetzoo frontpage, 2039 *** It was surprisingly tense, walking across hip-high displays with colourful toys on them, and past larger signs and cardboard cut-outs of action-figure heroes. I duly noted that there were a lot of samurai-themed toys. Little action figures with changeable weapons and gear, and towards the back of the store, for the older customers, were posed figurines. I wonder what Deus Ex would think if she came to our place and found a figurine of herself in a glass case. I was pretty sure we might still have a museum case or two left over too. ¡°The Kittens would love this place,¡± I said. ¡°Though they¡¯d make a mess of it.¡± I pressed inwards, then froze as I heard something off to my side. Plastic crinkling, which was a distinct enough sound. I slowly turned in the direction of the noise and noticed a few boxes of toys discarded across the floor. I brought my Laser Pointer up and listened past the drumming of my heartbeat. The noise came again, and this time I was able to pinpoint its location. I fired a trio of shots into a display a moment before a model three--now very much injured--came scrambling around to earn a fourth bullet to the face. More aliens came pouring out of nooks and crannies. Mostly model threes, but a few fours and fives. Not that it really mattered. They were injured already and even if they knew they were under attack, they had no way of knowing where I was yet. I walked around a display, using it as partial cover while I gunned down each alien that stuck its head out or went charging down one of the store¡¯s corridors. ¡°Resonator,¡± I said before chucking a grenade to the entrance. Some of them had noticed the militia parked outside and were running out. They were getting gunned down, of course, but I didn¡¯t want to risk one of them getting lucky and ripping up one of the militia guys out there. We only had so many competent soldiers on our side, no point in losing one because of rank stupidity. When the room quieted down once more except for the high-pitched whine of that resonator, I lowered my guard and my gun. ¡°Nice place, but maybe we should wait before visiting it,¡± I said as I kicked the head of a very dead model three. You should consider spending some time with your Kittens. ¡°I got them stuff,¡± I said. I started to make my way deeper into the room. The aliens had to have come from the basement or something. ¡°And where we¡¯re living it¡¯s... like, not comparable to where we lived before. They have their own rooms and a working shitter, not to mention three meals a day.¡± Yes, that¡¯s true. You¡¯ve done well by them financially and when it comes to their physical needs. But if you want to form any sort of emotional attachment, you¡¯ll need to spend actual time with them. I considered it for a moment, then shrugged. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re probably right.¡± There was a door behind the sales counter at the back. The bottom half of the door had been ripped apart, little bits of presswood scattered across the floor. I vaulted over the countertop, then leaned my head close. No noise on the other side. I usually am. ¡°So, oh wise AI living in my head, what would you suggest I do with the Kittens?¡± I asked. I didn¡¯t have the first clue what to do with them to build bonds or whatever. I opened the door, then pointed my gun in while I swept the room. It wasn¡¯t much more than a storage space with a desk in the back and a vending machine for employees. There was another door though, and, I noted, a staircase leading down. Bingo. Anything that has you spending time with them. Perhaps visit a dog park? ¡°A... dog park?¡± I asked. Yes. Here, this is a list of Google searches made by the Twins: Myalis opened up a small screen in the corner of my vision, and I quickly read through the list while pausing my search.

How to pet dogs? Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.Do dogs like it when you touch them? How to tell a dog you love it? Cute dogs Dogs being cute How to say hi to a dog?

¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°So the Twins have a thing for dogs. That¡¯s... actually kind of cute. But we have a pet dog. Sorta.¡± Catkiller was an interesting addition to our household. I wasn¡¯t sure how I felt about the big lump, and he mostly seemed content to stay out of my way. ¡°But yeah, sure, visit a dog park. We can do that.¡± I¡¯m merely looking out for your social and mental health. ¡°I¡¯m not complaining,¡± I said as I moved closer to the stairs. I stopped before reaching them as I heard a clicking from the staircase. ¡°I need something explosive and quiet.¡± Explosives don¡¯t generally work quietly. Perhaps... a UV-based sterilisation grenade? It¡¯s almost entirely quiet, but quite bright. I would have to strongly advise that you don¡¯t stand near it as it goes off, but that advice works for most explosives anyway. ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll try it,¡± I said. What I got was a roundish grenade covered in little panels that I suspected could pop open. A thumb-tab on the side had the very simple controls needed to use it. I flicked the ¡®nade on, then rolled it ahead so that it wouldn¡¯t make too much noise. It still clunked a few times as it dropped down the stairs, but the stairs had these rubber pads on them so it wasn¡¯t all that loud. Then the grenade went off and the room filled with a blinding white-purple light that had me flinching back, and I wasn¡¯t even in the direct line of fire. With the gun up, I moved to the edge of the staircase and aimed down. There was a body at the bottom, a model four, tentacles splayed out everywhere. It looked like it had been flash-cooked on half of its body. The rest didn¡¯t look much better, with flesh looking partially melted. ¡°These were hit by the nanomachines,¡± I said. Yes. Judging from what I can see, they have come into contact with some of the nanomachines we¡¯ve dispersed through the tunnel networks. Wherever they¡¯re coming from, it¡¯s linked to the greater hive. That¡¯s likely for the best. ¡°Because otherwise that would mean that we¡¯re dealing with another offshoot here?¡± I asked. Exactly. Yeah, that made a sort of horrific sense. I climbed down the stairs carefully, keeping my weight low and my gun ready to shoot anything that moved. Fortunately, nothing did. The stairs had a rail along their side with a lift at the bottom, probably so that employees could bring boxes up and down. The rest of the space was filled with shelves partially filled with boxes. It was all neat and organised, or probably had been before someone dug a hole out of the far wall. ¡°Whelp, I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s where they came from,¡± I said as I eyed the jagged-edged hole. What little light I had coming in from the floor above didn¡¯t carry down into the tunnel, and my low-light vision was struggling a little with the far end of the tunnel. Not enough light, I supposed. I could hear scrabbling and scratching from further within, but it was faint and a little distant. ¡°Alright, so do I just plug this hole and hope for the best? Or...¡± I looked around the room. Yeah, there was some space here. ¡°I could turn this room into a killing field. Let them keep charging in to die all day.¡± Eventually, whatever defences you put down will be overwhelmed. ¡°Right,¡± I said. And that would be playing for time while giving the aliens the edge. Not the brightest of moves. ¡°In that case... Myalis, I need a few things...¡± In the end, I settled on three larger cat drones, all of them about hip-high and bristling with weapons, as well as a dozen smaller drones, the size of actual house-cats. I watched the drones file into the tunnel. They had explosives on them that would go off once they were taken out of action. Then, as a final fuck-you to the aliens, I plugged the hole up. First by tossing in a few proximity-triggered grenades. Everything from FOOF-dispersal bombs to plain old resonators, then with a couple of expanding-foam grenades that I slapped onto the walls around the entrance. By the time I was leaving the basement, the hole was filling with sticking white foam that was already hardening to the consistency of cement. ¡°Okay, now let¡¯s see how many fires appeared while I was distracted with this one,¡± I muttered. *** Chapter Thirty-One - Sprout Chapter Thirty-One - Sprout ¡°Samurai may have similar profiles with several commonalities, but it¡¯s worth noting that every one is a unique individual, and applying the same brush across all of them will lead to errors in judgement and application.¡± --On the Mental and Psychological Treatment of Samurai Patients - 2046 Psychological Profiling Database *** I stepped out of the toy store and nodded to the nearest militia guys. ¡°Place is clear for now,¡± I said. ¡°Move on to the next place that needs you.¡± And with that said I grabbed onto the back of the pickup I¡¯d ridden over and climbed onboard. ¡°Intel, got any news for me?¡± ¡°Ohaio!¡± I suppressed a full-body twitch. Intel-chan¡¯s avatar now had a pair of cat ears on, both sticking out of a hairband of all things. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Sprout-dono could probably use your help. He¡¯s in bad shape. Not kawaii at all.¡± I glared. ¡°Are you getting worse?¡± I asked. The avatar¡¯s eyes widened into a look of pure, unbelievable innocence. ¡°What do you mean, Stray Neko-sama?¡± ¡°Pain in the ass,¡± I muttered. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with Sprout? Is he alright?¡± ¡°He was injured while taking care of the other sneaky-sneaky hive,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°I sent more of our backline to the area to help stop the antithesis from spreading out from there.¡± That was frustrating. ¡°How¡¯s the front-line?¡± I asked. "So far so good! There¡¯s less aliens than there were before!¡± That didn¡¯t sound right at all. ¡°Myalis, what¡¯s that mean?¡± It either means that the nanomachine attack was significantly more effective than expected, or the antithesis are holding back for reasons unknown. ¡°Let¡¯s assume that it¡¯s the aliens fucking with us, that¡¯s the worse possibility, isn¡¯t it? Don¡¯t they usually just charge in mindlessly? What¡¯s keeping them back?¡± Higher tier antithesis can sometimes display a certain level of tactical and strategic acumen. Lower-tier antithesis also tend to remain in the vicinity of their greater counterparts. It¡¯s an instinct that presses them to protect the more valuable members of the hive. So we were probably going to get messed up by some higher-tier aliens soon. ¡°Intel-chan, keep an eye out for any models in the double digits. I want to be informed right away if we start seeing more of them.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am!¡± Intel-chan said with a sloppy salute. ¡°And tell the driver to get me to Sprout¡¯s location. I want to see how badly he¡¯s hurt, then we need to plug that hole.¡± I got moving soon after, the militiaman at the wheel zipping across the city with no regard for any laws, which I supposed was only fair. We didn¡¯t need to get too far before reaching the spot where Sprout was supposed to destroy the antithesis pushing in from below. There were a dozen armoured trucks and a couple of APCs sitting around in two groups. Stacks of sandbags had been placed in lumps across the street with machine guns on bipods set up to aim at a single building. It wasn¡¯t all that big of a building, maybe seven stories high, with the kind of dull grey facing and squarish architecture designed to make your eye skim right past it. It barely had any ads on it too. An office building of some sort, then? Maybe a call centre or one of those places where a couple of hundred coders were locked into cubicles and made to write lines all day. The first floor¡¯s walls were covered in a spray of bullet holes, most concentrated around a nondescript doorway which looked like it had been smashed out. A few corpses--all antithesis--were splattered on the sidewalk, hinting at who had ripped the door out of the wall. The pickup slowed to a stop and I jumped out, landing without any sound and just a slight bend to my knees. Instantly, I noticed a dozen militia folk looking my way and I could see the tension bleeding off their shoulders. ¡°Intel-chan, who¡¯s in charge here?¡± ¡°That would be Sprout-dono, I guess. But if you mean for the militia, Second Lieutenant Hawke.¡± ¡°What¡¯s with all of the second lieutenants?¡± I muttered. I¡¯d seen more people at that rank than any other. ¡°There¡¯s a big pay hike from second to first, so most people end up stuck as a second lieutenant forever. It¡¯s not like the militia really needs people to be captains or whatever. An officer¡¯s an officer.¡± The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Ah, so it was capitalism. That made sense. ¡°Tell Hawke to meet me,¡± I said as I searched for Sprout. I found him waiting at the back of an ambulance. The samurai was sitting at the back, legs just a little bit off the ground and back bent in the kind of posture that would lead to lower back pain in a few years. He didn¡¯t look like he was bleeding out and I counted the average number of limbs on him. I walked over to him while glancing at the building a few times. No windows, so there was no telling what was going on inside. ¡°Myalis, is there still power in there?¡± I asked. There is, yes. Did you want me to plug into the building¡¯s security network? ¡°That would be nice. Give us an idea of what¡¯s going on without having to stick our head in,¡± I said. Then I came to a stop in front of Sprout. The man didn¡¯t even look up, focused as he was on the ground between his feet. ¡°Hey.¡± Sprout looked up, mouth forming a little ¡®o¡¯ before he blinked and looked around. I¡¯d seen the same expression on guilty kittens before. ¡°Ah, uh, hi,¡± he said. ¡°I heard you got hurt, figured I¡¯d come and see what I could do to help,¡± I said. I wanted to ask him why he looked so guilty, but sometimes it was better to let that kind of thing come out on its own. ¡°I¡¯m... yeah, I¡¯m alright,¡± he said. He tapped his chest, and I noted that he was wearing a suit of armour on. It didn¡¯t look too impressive, a skin-tight suit which he¡¯d thrown a surplus bulletproof vest over. A helmet sat on the edge of the ambulance next to him. Just a thing that would cover the top of his head and his ears. He had a satchel sitting next to him, a ruddy old thing that looked like it had seen better days. ¡°I...¡± he finally met my eyes, then he looked away. I had the impression he wanted to be angry at me but couldn¡¯t muster up the willpower for it. ¡°I went to see what I could do,¡± he said. ¡°It didn¡¯t work out.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°I got chewed up. If it wasn¡¯t for the militia people, for my armour, I¡¯d be dead.¡± I frowned, happy that he couldn¡¯t see my expression at the moment. ¡°What did you meet in there?¡± I asked. ¡°Just some model threes. Not even a lot of them.¡± He leaned forwards and cupped his face in his hands. ¡°Fuck.¡± That summed it up nicely, yeah. ¡°And now you¡¯re like this because you couldn¡¯t handle it?¡± I asked. It wasn¡¯t nice of me, I knew, but damn if I didn¡¯t have time to play therapist. ¡°You know, it¡¯s not all bad. You¡¯re still new. Can¡¯t expect to be great out of the gate.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been a samurai for three days now,¡± he said. ¡°Johnny¡¯s as new as me. He wouldn¡¯t have any trouble. Manic... she¡¯d enjoy it. I¡¯m...¡± he shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not made for this. I don¡¯t know why I was chosen at all.¡± ¡°Hey, calm down,¡± I said. I placed a hand on his shoulder and tightened my grip. ¡°Tell me what went wrong.¡± ¡°I told you,¡± he said. ¡°No, you told me what happened. Tell me what went wrong.¡± He shook his head, but replied all the same. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I tried to not be noticed so that I could plant a few things, but my plants take a lot of time to grow. I thought I could just put a few of them down and let them grow to fill the hole. They¡¯ve been good at stopping smaller models so far.¡± ¡°Alright, and what happened?¡± I asked. ¡°They attacked me. I couldn¡¯t fight them off.¡± I nodded slowly. ¡°Do you have a gun?¡± I asked. ¡°I lost it,¡± he said. I shut off the mic on my helmet so that I could let out a long sigh. This guy was... not front-line material. He didn¡¯t have that edge, that willingness to jump into trouble and mess up the enemy. Gomorrah had it in spades. She enjoyed seeing the enemy burn. Manic was as violent and temperamental as they came. Even Johnny, while he was more focused on himself, was willing to jump into trouble to punch it. Sprout struck me as something of a pacifist, which was a fantastic thing to be, I was sure, but it was also not the best trait for a samurai to have. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out,¡± I told him, and I hoped I was right because I needed every samurai I could get right now. *** Chapter Thirty-Two - Horses to Water Chapter Thirty-Two - Horses to Water ¡°Space is looking less like the final frontier and more like our last hope.¡± --JimJam Science Show, 2041 *** I patted Sprout on the knee. ¡°Stay here, alright?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m going to pop on in there, seal things up in a bit, and then we¡¯ll head on out. Or...¡± I licked my lips. Sometimes, when dealing with the kittens, they¡¯d end up being afraid of something, or unable to do a chore, and while I ribbed them about it, I usually just did the task for them while telling them to do something easier to make up for it. Stuff like doing the dishes if they didn¡¯t want to take out the trash. I didn¡¯t think this was quite the same, but it was all I knew so it was all I had to draw a comparison to right then. ¡°You know what, no,¡± I said. I checked Sprout up and down, and he seemed fine, physically, at least. ¡°You¡¯re coming with me?¡± I asked... said. It started as a statement and ended as a question, really. I didn¡¯t want to force the guy, but I wanted him to come. He looked up. ¡°Coming?¡± ¡°Good!¡± I said, taking the question as an answer. ¡°You can show me what your plants have been doing. I haven¡¯t had a chance to see them up close. And if anything tries to eat you this time they¡¯ll have to get through me first.¡± I start heading off, a grin growing as I heard Sprout scramble to keep up. We were met halfway to the office building by a militia guy with the pips of a second lieutenant next to the badges on his uniform. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± he said with a quick, sharp salute. ¡°Second Lieutenant Hawke, ma¡¯am, you mentioned needing me?¡± ¡°Ah, right,¡± I said. The Hawke was a vaguely native-American looking guy, tall and broad shouldered and looking very serious. ¡°The two of us are going to head in there to poke around. Can you make sure that nothing comes out of the building until we¡¯re done? Ah, aside from us, of course.¡± ¡°We can do that,¡± he said with another salute. ¡°Good luck in there.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± I said before walking past him. Once out of immediate ear-shot I glanced back at Sprout. ¡°Got a gun?¡± I asked. ¡°Uh,¡± was his reply. I tossed him my Laser Pointer. ¡°You¡¯ll need to buy ammo yourself,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, can I get another?¡± With the same Depleted Iridium rounds? ¡°Maybe switch it up to something like buckshot? We¡¯ll be in closer quarters.¡± A gun appeared in the air before me and I caught it before it could start to fall. Then we were at the single door into the complex. ¡°I¡¯ll be going ahead. Watch my back,¡± I said to Sprout. He nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best,¡± he said. Obviously, he was still nervous. I was pretty sure that dragging him back in here was probably not the best move for his mental health but... he needed to learn. Fuck, I didn¡¯t like being put in this kind of position, but I needed dependable samurai I could work with if I was going to keep this shithole city mostly intact, and that meant pushing Sprout a little. I¡¯d try to soften the blow, maybe? ... Was I going to have to attend, like, a seminar on convincing people to jump into trouble for a greater cause? Did that even exist? I stepped into the office building, invisibility off so that any antithesis we ran into would jump me first. I swept my gaze around, Laser Pointer following as I looked for trouble. The entrance lobby was a tight corridor, with a couple of benches on the sides and a security booth at the end that I imagined doubled as a shitty sort of reception. A turret was mounted on the ceiling, but it looked inactive. Was it just for show? I focused back on the ground where a few model threes were laying there, dead and covered in little bulletholes. I wasn¡¯t any sort of forensic expert, but I guessed that they¡¯d been shot up by the militia folk. ¡°So, where did you find the entrance?¡± I asked Sprout. ¡°The one the antithesis were using? Two levels down,¡± he said. ¡°This place has multiple basements?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s a cubicle farm,¡± he replied. I didn¡¯t know exactly what that meant, but I just nodded along anyway. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Past the multiple metal detectors and EMP scramblers by the entrance, we came into the main space of the office building. A large room with a few enclosed offices along the edges and a sea of cubicles in the middle. Each had walls that stopped at about my waist, probably so that managers could better see their employees at work. There were a few more antithesis bodies here, but some of them looked like they had been dragged across the floor, leaving bloody trails behind. ¡°They¡¯re trying to recoup their bodies,¡± I guessed. A model three body probably had just about enough biomass to create another, fresh model three. Give or take a bit of waste. ¡°Which means that they¡¯re not far.¡± I could almost hear Sprout swallow behind me as he raised his gun. We both came to a stop and searched the room from where we were. The cubicles would make for great places for the aliens to hide, even if there was barely enough room in each for three people to stand side-by-side. ¡°Is this where you were ambushed?¡± I asked. ¡°No. The stairwell, over there.¡± He pointed to the far end of the room, towards a door that was jammed open by a fallen printer. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Now, I¡¯m no expert, but I bet when we move towards that door we¡¯re going to get hit from behind, so let¡¯s make that more complicated for them, huh? Myalis, I need a couple of resonators.¡± Here you go! I caught a pair of grenades out of the air with my free hand, almost fumbling the second. Then I flicked them both on and underhanded them across the room. Soon their high-pitched keening noise filled the entire space. ¡°What are those?¡± he asked. ¡°They melt antithesis,¡± I said. ¡°Resonant frequency shit.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± he said. ¡°Will that affect my plants?¡± I blinked. I hadn¡¯t considered that. Then again, I hadn¡¯t seen much of his plants yet. They shouldn¡¯t. Not all of them, at least. ¡°Myalis says no,¡± I said simply. ¡°Oh, good, I was worried that we might--¡± Sprout and I both flinched and turned towards the cubicles where... where a person was stumbling out from behind cover. I lowered my gun. That was a human, not an alien. A man in a rumpled business suit who looked like shit warmed over. He tripped over himself as he walked our way, then his face rose and I felt a surge of adrenaline hit me. He was missing half his face. Catherine, that person is dead. ¡°Ah, fuck,¡± I said. ¡°Sir, are you... you need medical attention,¡± Sprout said as he started forwards. I grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him behind me, something that I wouldn¡¯t have been able to do without my armour. Then I raised my gun and fired once. The office worker fell backwards like a ragdoll, arms and legs splayed out even as a chunk of his chest flew on past him. ¡°What the fuck!¡± Sprout shouted. ¡°Shut up a minute,¡± I said. I stepped up to the corpse, then paused as it started to twitch. I looked around again, then knelt next to it. It grossed me out, but I yanked the head aside, then noticed something in the pit where his jaw was hanging loose, white muscles and cartilage exposed. It was a black, squiggly thing that I pinched and pulled out of the corpse. The worm-like appendage snapped, but the end I had continued to wiggle. ¡°What the fuck?!¡± Sprout asked again, with more feeling this time. ¡°Model seven,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ve got zombies.¡± ¡°What do we do?¡± he asked. ¡°Shoot them,¡± I said. There wasn¡¯t much to do otherwise. The people that were zombied up were dead already. Especially this guy. He didn¡¯t look fresh. ¡°Now... where the fuck are they getting bodies from? Hey, Myalis, wouldn¡¯t model sevens be more... uh, susceptible to our nanomachine attack?¡± They are smaller, yes. And therefore easier to eliminate. But when a hive starts producing model sevens it usually does so in large quantities. I scowled. ¡°Fine,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, can you send Hawke outside a head¡¯s up about this. Hell, tell Intel-chan too. We don¡¯t want to panic people, but we need folk knowing about it. Sprout, come on, show me where that hole is. Time¡¯s running short.¡± *** Chapter Thirty-Three - Minor Improvements Chapter Thirty-Three - Minor Improvements ¡°User Milesglorius: People have tried all sorts of things to kill them already User Adfligo: Yeah, so? User Milesglorius: wtf, you think your idea¡¯s better? User CuteGirlsRCute: Maybe? Not like every idea¡¯s been tried and anyway I think that it''s okay to try new things. ATs have only been invading for like 20 years. Gotta try stuff yeah?¡± Systema IRC, 2043 *** This was shit sprinkles on the turd cake. I didn¡¯t have time to deal with zombies on top of all the rest. ¡°Myalis, what are the chances that this is a small, one-off offshoot of the antithesis that we won¡¯t have to worry about?¡± I asked. It¡¯s unlikely. Though I haven¡¯t noticed any parts of the hive specifically growing model sevens. That isn¡¯t entirely unusual. Model sevens are small and quick to grow to their full maturity. Hives will often have other models grow them wherever they find a sufficient number of corpses or usable bodies. Remember that more than a weapon, a model seven is a means of transporting biomass back to the hive. Right, the zombies were basically the antithesis¡¯ way of co-opting a person¡¯s body to walk it back to the hive for digestion. The fact that it was a psychological weapon probably didn¡¯t factor in. The antithesis were scary, but it was never purposeful terror that they sowed. I jumped when a call came in, the alert not loud or anything, but I was a little on edge and the sound poked at my nerves. Intel-chan was calling. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°Hey,¡± Intel-chan replied. ¡°We¡¯re getting everyone to take their anti-zombie pills, just in case. We don¡¯t have much manpower to check on people, but your girlfriend¡¯s working on sending people to every housing complex on the edges of Downtown, just to make sure that everyone is still entirely human.¡± I nodded. ¡°That¡¯s good. Will we have enough meds to go around?¡± ¡°No,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Not nearly. But we can give some to every militia person, and most if not all of our volunteers. The pills are only meant to be good for a day or so before you need to take another dose though.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll buy more if it comes to it.¡± I looked around the office space again. Earlier it had been a big, worrisome place because it might hide a few lower-tier models. Now it was worrisome for entirely different reasons. ¡°If the zombies are here inside the barricades, then... shit, how likely is it that they¡¯d just spread out from here?¡± Model sevens are notoriously stealthy. They aren¡¯t fast-moving, but they can reproduce within a captured body, and there are many tales of model sevens taking over a body, then walking past defences to reproduce next to heavily populated areas. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Intel, can you add a pin to Gomorrah¡¯s agenda?¡± ¡°I can,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°What do you need her for?¡± ¡°Burn this entire building down. In a way that doesn¡¯t spread to the rest of the city. I¡¯m sure she can accommodate that much. I don¡¯t know how heat-resistant model sevens are, but I¡¯m sure they won¡¯t survive the kind of shit Gomorrah can unleash when she has permission.¡± ¡°Understood. Sending a message now,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°And, uh, hey, where¡¯s all your weebness?¡± Intel-chan went quiet for a moment, then when they replied it was with a much more perky, upbeat sort of voice. Almost gratingly so. ¡°Oh? Stray Cat Sempai wants me to talk like this?¡± I squinted. Intel-chan waited for a long, long beat. Then they spoke up. ¡°Uwu?¡± ¡°I hate you,¡± I said. ¡°Pardon?¡± Sprout asked. He looked like he¡¯d calmed down a little, though I noted that he wasn¡¯t looking at the corpse on the ground next to us. ¡°Sorry,¡± I muttered. ¡°Just talking to a few people at once. The militia will start taking their anti-zombie meds, we¡¯ll see about everyone else once we¡¯re out of here.¡± ¡°Are we leaving?¡± he asked, and I couldn¡¯t miss that hint of hope in his voice. I didn¡¯t want to squash it, but there was a lot of stuff I didn¡¯t want and I didn''t get. ¡°No, we¡¯re finishing what we started. Do you have something to stop model sevens?¡± I asked. He shook his head. ¡°Myalis, two of those Proofing Pill things, please,¡± I said. Coming right up. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.The pills appeared in a pair of little cigarette-box-sized containers. I tossed one to Sprout and opened the other, then I undid part of my helmet to dry swallow one of the pills. It wasn¡¯t exactly tasty, but I¡¯d live with it. Honestly, I was probably safe. A model seven would have to get through my armour first, which I doubted they could do. But Sprout wasn¡¯t wearing gear that was as good as mine yet. Besides, it was better to be safe than sorry when it came to zombification. Once Sprout took his pill, then stuffed the rest into a pocket on his vest, I tapped him on the shoulder and gestured deeper into the office space. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said. The staircase¡¯s door was wedged open, so I approached it ready to have something jump at my face. Nothing did, though the stairwell was unlit and windowless, so it was filled with long shadows that we only made worse as we stood by the entrance. That, and there were potted plants scattered across the ground. Just three or four different sorts of plants on what looked like those common brownish-beige ceramic pots that I¡¯d sometimes seen in groceries with, like, a dying sprig of basil or something in it. These weren¡¯t any common spices though. One of the plants had spread roots out across the ground and another was covered in little ball-like flowers with what looked like sacs under them. ¡°Those are mine,¡± Sprout said. ¡°Spreading Creeper, Acid Bells, and Thorn Thistle.¡± He pointed to the plants in turn. ¡°You dropped them here?¡± I asked. ¡°On the way back up,¡± he said. ¡°What was your plan, exactly?¡± He shrugged, a little sheepish. ¡°Get to the entrance, plant these down. They¡¯re all hyper-invasive and can grow quickly.¡± ¡°Like, quickly for a plant, or actually quickly?¡± I asked. ¡°They mostly take a few hours to grow. The thorn thistle would be large enough to block a doorway in under six hours.¡± ¡°And that would stop the antithesis from breaking in here?¡± I asked. He squirmed a little. ¡°It would make it harder for them. None of my plants break down into usable biofuel for the antithesis. Some are the opposite, even, with chemical packs hidden within them that can destroy the digestion baths the antithesis uses to dissolve organic matter into the nutrient slurry they use.¡± ¡°That seems decent for area denial, I guess. Fuck with their food supply, make the area inhospitable to them. But, ah, I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s ideal for plugging a passage.¡± ¡°They dug the passage, I figured it wouldn¡¯t matter if I plug it since they could just dig out another. And... well, you sent me here, and this is the best I could do.¡± He gestured futilely at the pile of discarded plants on the floor. Kinda felt bad for the guy. ¡°Shit,¡± I said. ¡°Look, this is my bad. I should have figured out what you¡¯re good for before sending you over here. Could have used your area denial stuff around River Heights, or on the borders.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve planted some things there,¡± he said. ¡°A lot of my plants are good for blocking alleys, and some I got to plant outside of the walls. Hopefully they¡¯ll bring those back to their hives. Ah, some plants have trackers in them too, and pheromones that make them really attractive to the Antithesis. Or some of them. Most don¡¯t have... noses.¡± ¡°Do you make any points with that kind of thing?¡± I asked. He glanced away. ¡°I haven¡¯t figured out that part yet. I do make some but my AI explained that since it¡¯s at such a remove I don¡¯t make many. But a lot of my plants can multiply. So once I get a proper set up going, It¡¯ll basically be free to keep going. I... my goal is to create some semi-invasive species, or buy them at least, and then plant them around areas with Antithesis hives to kill them off without ever putting someone at risk.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t they do that in Australia?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°And they made it worse. But I think... I think I can do it better.¡± I gave him a pat on the shoulder. Guy was aiming a lot higher than I was. Had to respect that. He was still useless in a fight though, which became obvious when a model three scrambled up the stairs and Sprout stumbled backwards and out of the stairwell. I rolled my eyes, then shot the alien. Then shot a second time to actually hit it. We all had something to work on, it seemed, and I couldn¡¯t fling stones from my glass house just yet. *** Interlude SNO Interlude SNO Junior watched Katherine walk out of her little room. As soon as the door was closed she flopped back and closed her eyes with a deep sigh. Being the responsible one sucked, so they were taking turns. At least they had Daniel to shove anything really awkward onto. She didn¡¯t know how Lucy and Cat did it all those years. Not that she¡¯d ever tell them that she was thankful. That was just asking to pump up Cat¡¯s ego. She glanced around her room, then kicked a leg up onto her bed. It wasn¡¯t a very big bed, and it wasn¡¯t a very big room. Really, the ¡®kid¡¯ rooms (and it rankled that she was lumped in with them) were all kinda tiny. But they were also private rooms, so she wasn¡¯t going to complain too much. Plus the internet was pretty good here. She closed her eyes and brought up her aug displays and opened up a familiar tab, her only source for current news.

Welcome to Samurai News Online: Your Source for Firsthand News! You are Currently Logged in as: JuniorBestCat2048

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Have fun, don¡¯t share personal information, and remember that Big Brother is Always Watching! ? Stray Cat Sightings and News In: Boards ? SamuraiSightings ? NorthAmerica EldritchReality (Original Poster) Posted Three Weeks Ago at 3:47PM: Hello! There¡¯s a new Samurai out on the streets of New Montreal. I overheard some PMCs talking about her. She¡¯s called Stray Cat (I think), and I think she¡¯s currently working with another samurai (A nun with flamethrowers, couldn¡¯t ID). I didn¡¯t see her very much, so no pics, sorry. She¡¯s a brunette, with pink highlights, pretty tall? 16-20yo. Black coat and some pink highlights. No clear theme, so I think she really is new. Can someone confirm? EDIT: Can confirm the name. EDIT 2: The samurai she was working with is Gomorrah (Showing page 1 of 753) ? SDC Replied Three Weeks Ago at 3:47PM New baby samurai! Plus a cat-themed one? Can someone get pics please? ? Arcc (Tsun) Replied Three Weeks Ago at 3:48PM Are there any other cat-themed samurai around? Especially in NM? We wouldn¡¯t want a catfight on our hands ? Mijasane (Do Not Bully) Replied Three Weeks Ago at 3:49PM Cats are cute. What¡¯s her weapon gimmick? Is it guns? It should be guns! ? TheChubster Replied Three Weeks Ago at 3:49PM Arcc How dare you. I read that with mine own two eyeballs! Also, baby samurai! Smoll baby! Someone get a drone on them, I want to see them goof! ? Lechtansi Replied Three Weeks Ago at 3:50PM What do we know about them other than the looks (Please, someone get a pic, this is 2057 FCOL!). Can someone ID the other samurai? There can¡¯t be that many samurai in nun outfits that use flamethrowers. Like... no more than ten? ? B-Bunch (Moon Bunny Enthusiast) Replied Three Weeks Ago at 3:50PM I think I saw her! There were lots of explosions and fire. I bet that¡¯s her speciality! Too bad it¡¯s not hugs ? S-Rosenberg This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.Replied Three Weeks Ago at 3:51PM OMG she¡¯s got a partner samurai already! This will make shipping her soooo easy! Was she wearing orange and white with the pink? Is she the gay? ? Deathwatch Replied Three Weeks Ago at 3:52PM Is she actually cat-themed? Or is it just some affectation? We don¡¯t need the furries screaming about cultural appropriation again. ? TheD¡¯awwctor Replied Three Weeks Ago at 3:52PM @B-Bunch There¡¯s no such thing as a hugging speciality. Or Cleaning. Stop trolling. ? Myalis (Best Girl)(Cat Herder) Replied Three Weeks Ago at 3:52PM If anyone needs a beta for their Stray Cat fanfic, my DMs are open!

Junior read the page idly, skimming past weeks old conversations she¡¯d read half a dozen times already as she searched for the Next button at the bottom. She skipped all the way to the last page.

(Showing page 753 of 753) ? A Materen Replied Today at 2:20PM Stray Cat spotted again, this time leaving the Mall Downtown! Pics: LINK LINK LINK What¡¯s she up to now? ? Keinan-M Replied Today at 2:21PM Wasting her time, probably. Why haven¡¯t they just destroyed all the aliens already? ? Nigel Replied Today at 2:22PM Because that takes time? Did you see the explosion Stray Cat and her GF left in New Montreal? I¡¯d rather they didn¡¯t resort to that next to MY house, tyvm. ? LarsL Replied Today at 2:22PM Nvm all that, have you heard of the Kittens? ? Duskland Replied Today at 2:23PM Stray Cat¡¯s orphans? ? TheStoryteller (Gay) Replied Today at 2:23PM Nuuu, LarsL is talking about Stray Cat¡¯s army! She¡¯s giving out samurai-tech-gear to people who¡¯re volunteering to fight! There¡¯s this (really kinda hot) dark-skinned beauty in charge and everything. I heard she kissed SC, so there¡¯s a non-zero chance that this is a way for Stray Cat to recruit people into her lesbian harem! ? Vesperal Replied Today at 2:24PM I think you¡¯re projecting ? ¥¢¥Ö¥ê¥Ü¥ó (Bzz) Replied Today at 2:24PM No way, samurai don¡¯t hand out their gear like that. Not unless they¡¯re super new. If it was one of the city¡¯s other newbie samurais, then maybe. ? SuperVenom101 (Best Fren) Replied Today at 2:25PM I mean, it¡¯s possible? Stray Cat¡¯s pretty weird, so let¡¯s not overlook this ? Nowwho (Who?) Replied Today at 2:26PM Just because her GF is a pyronun doesn¡¯t mean she¡¯s weird!

Junior found herself frowning. They were all wrong, of course. Well, not about Cat being weird. That was spot on. But the rest. She sighed. She should know better by now about people being wrong on the internet. That didn¡¯t stop her from opening a TTS app and dictating a reply.

? JuniorBestCat2048 (A Kitten) Replied Today at 2:26PM Cat¡¯s not like that. I bet whatever she¡¯s doing, it¡¯s what she thinks is best. She¡¯s probably wrong, because she¡¯s stupid, but she¡¯s like, a genuinely nice person even if she¡¯s a bitch. Don¡¯t tell her I said so. ? Teken Replied Today at 2:27PM Lol, How would you know? ? Loskia Replied Today at 2:27PM They¡¯re one of SC¡¯s kittens, tag says so. ? M-Raynolds Replied Today at 2:27PM Could be a fake tag. I know you need to ask a mod, but that doesn¡¯t mean it can¡¯t be faked.

Junior didn¡¯t know why she bothered at all. With a shake of her head, she backed out of the thread, then hopped into another that was booming. Chapter Thirty-Four - Knife Edge Chapter Thirty-Four - Knife Edge ¡°The profit balance is a knife¡¯s edge where you need to be able to deliver a product of a certain quality while paying the smallest amount possible. That means avoiding normal contractors and instead finding people who actually care enough about your product that they¡¯ll work harder, longer, and better for less. Once you¡¯ve found these people, you need to exploit them for all they¡¯re worth.¡± -The Employer¡¯s Guide to Employees, sixth edition, 2050 *** The hole in the basement was hard to miss. The wall was all cinderblock, and the aliens had punched through it, sending chunks of the cement blocks scattering across the floor, as well as ripping up a few of the novelty motivational posters stuck to the wall. ¡°Hang in there.¡± I read from a poster next to the alien-filled pit. ¡°Yeah, alright.¡± The nice thing about having all the aliens coming through a single hole small enough that I would have to bend over double to fit through was that even my shit aim was good enough to wipe them out in droves. My Laser Pointer clicked empty, and I stepped to the side, then gestured into the hole. ¡°Hey, shoot anything that moves in there, would you?¡± I asked Sprout. ¡°I¡¯m gonna figure out how to plug this thing in the meantime.¡± ¡°Ah, sure,¡± he said. Dropping to one knee, he aimed into the hole, then fired. He wasn¡¯t going all-out like I did, but instead taking careful, aimed shots. Well, whatever. ¡°Hey, Myalis, we¡¯ve got options here?¡± We do! Also, did you want to split the points that Vanguard Sprout is earning right now? He is using your equipment. ¡°Huh? Nah, let him take all the points he¡¯s earning. He¡¯ll need them.¡± The 55-55 split was nice and all, but 100 was bigger than 55 last I checked, and Sprout was behind in points-earned. I was fine with losing out on some change if it meant getting him up to speed a little. ¡°Now, the hole?¡± Same as last time? Resonators and a foam plug for the exit? ¡°Yeah, I guess.¡± The antithesis coming out of here were chewed up by our nanomachines, so it wasn¡¯t all bad to block the hole and let them wait. ¡°Call it a permanent temporary solution, then,¡± I said. Gomorrah was probably going to burn the entire building down anyway, so it wasn¡¯t that big a deal. The only concern was having model sevens spawning within the city and spreading outwards. But as insidious and nasty as a zombie threat was, the threat of being flooded over was bigger and more worrisome still. Or maybe I was just biassed. I waited until Sprout clicked empty, then I flung in some grenades, tossing them as deep into the hole as I could. Most were resonators, but I made sure to include a single, more traditional concussive grenade in the lot. Sprout squawked as a wash of dust and hot air blasted out of the hole, and I laughed as I dropped a last resonator right next to the entrance then set off a foam bomb that immediately started to expand. ¡°Come on. Myalis can reload your gun automatically for you. As long as you¡¯re spending round killing shit for us I don¡¯t mind footing that bill.¡± ¡°Uh, thanks?¡± he said. I patted him on the shoulder, then gestured to the stairs. ¡°Let¡¯s get going. There will be other disasters to figure out by now, I bet.¡± ¡°Okay?¡± It didn¡¯t take long that we were stepping out of the office building and into... huh, the sun was further along than I¡¯d thought. Time was passing us by, and so far, no big disasters. Maybe the plan with the nanomachines had worked out better than I¡¯d hoped? Then I got a call from Manic. ¡°Hello?¡± I asked. ¡°What the fuck is going on at River Heights?¡± she opened with. ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked as I glanced around. The militia guys were keeping some distance from the office space. Probably worried about zombie worms. ¡°I was taking care of something else, what¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Fuckloads of smoke,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m not heading over there. There¡¯s plenty of shit to kill here, but you might want to keep an eye on it, oh fearless leader.¡± ¡°I¡¯m gonna hope that it¡¯s Gomorrah¡¯s fault, somehow,¡± I said. ¡°Nah, the nun¡¯s in the other direction. Lots of smoke that way too, but it¡¯s mostly coming from outside of the barricades. I moved past there. That bitch has entire streets covered in fire, you know?¡± Stolen story; please report. ¡°Yeah, she does that.¡± ¡°Wild.¡± I nodded, unable to disagree. But hey, Gomorrah¡¯s tactics worked, so it wasn¡¯t that big a deal, was it? ¡°I¡¯ll check out River Heights. You sit pretty.¡± ¡°Always. You know, there¡¯s a pattern to this. They come in, I blast them back, then they come back twenty minutes later, but there¡¯s more of them.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t have pushed back that many waves,¡± I said. ¡°Three¡¯s enough for a pattern when you¡¯re looking for one,¡± Manic said. ¡°There¡¯s a music to this, and I think the alien fucks are about to start rocking out hard.¡± I had no idea what that meant, but I figured it wasn¡¯t a good thing. ¡°I¡¯ll come back to you in a minute or two. Need to figure out what¡¯s going on in River Heights.¡± ¡°Let them burn,¡± she said before cutting the line. I sighed. ¡°Sprout, can you make your way back to near the front lines? Plant more of your stuff where you think it¡¯ll be useful. We might have a fight on our hands soon.¡± ¡°I can do that,¡± he said with a nod. ¡°Cool.¡± I dismissed him and opened a channel to Intel-chan. ¡°What¡¯s going on in River Heights?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh, hi!¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Not much. Miss Baker said that they¡¯ll be ready to evacuate fully by tomorrow morning.¡± ¡°T-tomorrow morning?¡± I repeated. ¡°They won¡¯t be alive by then. What¡¯s with all the smoke?¡± ¡°First defensive line broke, so the militia in the area backed up to the second. Part of normal procedures is to burn everything behind them as they move. It means less biomass for the aliens and nothing for scavengers to steal once the milita¡¯s not there.¡± And all of that didn¡¯t matter because the people they were defending weren¡¯t moving. ¡°One sec, I¡¯m getting Baker on the line,¡± I growled. The call rang five times, each note pushing my mood lower and lower until I was pacing anxiously across the front of the office. Some of the militia who¡¯d stayed behind were eyeing me strangely. ¡°Hello?¡± Miss Baker said. ¡°Why the fuck haven¡¯t people evacuated from River Heights yet?¡± I asked. ¡°We¡¯ve planned the evacuation for tomorrow morning, when it¡¯ll be most conve--¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to bomb the entire area in an hour. If your rich fucks don¡¯t want to eat high explosive shells for dinner then tell them to get their pampered asses the fuck out of there post-haste because I¡¯ve got no fucks to give but plenty of munitions to make up for it.¡± Then I cut her off. ¡°Sugoi,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Scary.¡± ¡°Think they¡¯ll actually start moving their asses?¡± I asked. ¡°Le mao,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°No way. They¡¯ll call your bluff for sure. You might be a bad bitch, neco-mmander, but everyone knows you wouldn¡¯t actually blow up civilians for fun.¡± I grit my teeth. ¡°Fuck.¡± At what point could I wash my hands and just let people die from their own stupidity? Where was the cutoff between having done enough and not doing enough? I needed a manual on how to handle this shit. Not that I¡¯d actually read it. ¡°Myalis, give me your best estimates of what¡¯s going to go down in the next hour.¡± From the looks of it, Manic might be correct. The expected flood of antithesis never occurred. So a lot of the biomass within the hive is still within the hive. And while the nanomachines will continue to rip them apart, there are ways that they might be able to counteract some of that pressure. Notably by sending out injured units to die while holding back fresher ones. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Smart, I guess.¡± Unusually so, yes. You can either expect this back and forth to continue for some time as the hive purges itself of nanomachines, or the hive might correctly identify the local human area as the source of the threat and destroy it. ¡°Ah,¡± I said. ¡°So we¡¯re fucked.¡± I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll manage! I have faith that you¡¯ll muddle through somehow, and that the muddling will be immensely entertaining for me. ¡°You¡¯re awful,¡± I said. But she wasn¡¯t wrong. I didn¡¯t have time to give in to any sort of anxiety, not when I could be doing something. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get back to the front lines. I want to be there when the shit hits the fan.¡± Let¡¯s go, then. And with that, I jumped back behind that shitty pickup that I guess had become my unofficial ride through this shitty city. *** Chapter Thirty-Five - When Business Takes Care of Itself Chapter Thirty-Five - When Business Takes Care of Itself ¡°Tube-births are becoming more popular and an ever increasing number of higher-income families insist on having children both without natural birth (which might harm the would-be mother and prevent her from working for a period) and with pre-checked and modded genes (which ensure that the child will be born without defects and in perfect health). This has the predictable side-effect of creating an as-of-yet small generation of so-called ¡®perfect¡¯ babies who are growing up to be perfect children. Unfortunately, no one has discovered an anti-elitism gene yet.¡± --Crispy Babies Done Well, First edition, 2051 *** The shit and the fan were on a collision course by the time I arrived in the outer part of Downtown where our defences were set up. I knew that long before we arrived though, because even while riding on the back of the pickup I could feel the ground trembling. Intel-chan popped up with an update. ¡°So,¡± the avatar said. ¡°Bit of a kerfuffle.¡± ¡°Go on,¡± I said. ¡°A couple of buildings have just collapsed near the front. None of them are right next to our defensive line, but some aren¡¯t too far off from that.¡± Frowning, I brought up Myalis¡¯ map of the city and took note of where those buildings had collapsed. That was about a block away from the outer edges of our defences, three buildings all very close to each other. Notably though, when I opened the overlay with the location of the hive, none of the three were over it. Catherine, I suspect that these buildings collapsed because of movement underground. Seeing as how the hive tunnels we¡¯ve explored don¡¯t travel beneath them, it¡¯s entirely possible that we¡¯re dealing with either a separate hive, or an entire section that our cursory explorations failed to discover. ¡°Fantastic,¡± I said. This day couldn¡¯t be over soon enough. The pickup screeched to a stop as we turned onto a busy street. There were militia people all over the place and... lots of folks in the suits I¡¯d bought running around and setting things up in a hurry. New barricades were being set up, large cement blockades were being pulled off the back of trucks by people with forklifts and construction exo-suits. Tents were being set up and the old defences looked like they were moving back. For a moment I wondered why they were going through all that trouble when we had a sort of wall already, but then I figured it out. They were creating a killbox. A hole was being dug out in the wall, and any aliens that poured through that tight little space would be gunned down by concentrated fire. Smart, I supposed. It felt like the kind of thing that should have been set up several days ago instead of the half-measure walls we had. I wondered where they got the cement half-walls until I saw ¡®Property of...¡¯ stencilled on the side of one of them. They were from a nearby parking garage. I walked along the edge, largely ignored except for a few glances my way and the occasional nod. What struck me as the strangest in all of this was the way people moved. They were pushing themselves, sweating and hurried, but also methodical and quiet. No one was complaining, no one was joking or being funny, no one was moving at contractor speeds. It was all quick, cold efficiency, which I might have expected to see in a soldier or maybe the best the militia had, but these were the volunteers that I¡¯d left with Lucy. Or... maybe that explained it. ¡°Is this the closest part of the front to where we expect them to come?¡± I asked. It is. If they come, they¡¯ll probably pass right through here. ¡°What¡¯s the status of our nanobots?¡± I asked. ¡°They making a difference at all?¡± They are. The main hive we¡¯ve discovered is essentially falling apart. It is no longer able to produce new models and the nanomachines have started to dissolve large parts of the main hive structure. All in all, the plan was mostly a success. Though the hives will have to be cleared more thoroughly. The nanomachines won¡¯t function forever, and once they run out of power it¡¯s possible that parts of the hive that were cut off and that lay dormant will reawaken and spread once more. ¡°Right, and then the tunnels will be dug already, so we¡¯ll be in even more of a mess,¡± I said. It was nice to hear that at least part of the plan was working. But still, there remained a big question, one that came to light as people on the wall started screaming and running back towards the new second line of defence. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I brought my gun up and was ready to charge in to help, but I stayed back for the moment and watched as the militia and Lucy¡¯s little army quickly got ready and then opened fire almost at the same time. Criss-crossing lines of fire ripped apart the dozen or so model threes leading the charge, then they focused on the next aliens to come through the gap. The initial surge of gunfire died down as what I presumed were sergeants told their men to hold off. They didn¡¯t need to hit every alien fifty times to take them out. ¡°Huh,¡± I said. What¡¯s wrong? ¡°Well, I kind of expected to have to jump in and save the day there, but it looks like they¡¯ve mostly got things handled.¡± Oh, don¡¯t worry. Plenty of things are going wrong. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s room for you to be a hero. And just after she said that, I got a call from Lucy. ¡°Hey,¡± I said as I answered. I was keeping an eye on that little passage the aliens were squeezing through, but so far things looked alright. ¡°Hi!¡± Lucy said, upbeat and chipper and a little stressed. Even with that hint of stress though, I found my shoulders loosening at hearing her voice. ¡°So, you know those zombie aliens you sent a warning about?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± I asked. ¡°Bit of a problem with those,¡± she continued. ¡°We¡¯ve got, ah, a horde?¡± ¡°A horde?¡± ¡°Of zombies.¡± ¡°A zombie horde,¡± I repeated. She sighed. ¡°Yes, Cat, a zombie horde. They¡¯re like, crawling out of this parking garage place. I sent Tabby Squad down there to steal some of those barrier things for the front, and it turns out that a lot of people have died recently and the morgues are all outside of downtown, or something. I guess those that are closer are full-up? Whatever, the point is, they started storing corpses in this place and sealed it off, but now they¡¯re zombies.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Where is it, I can pop over and...¡± ¡°No no,¡± she said, and I could imagine her head shaking. ¡°The kittens will take care of it. I just need better gear for them. Can we get like, biological protection stuff? Maybe flame throwers?¡± ¡°Uh,¡± I said. ¡°You want more gear?¡± ¡°Look, the gear you got¡¯s cute and all, but it¡¯s kind of generalist, and we don¡¯t have enough to outfit even a tenth of the people we have.¡± I blinked. ¡°Not even a tenth?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been recruiting,¡± she said. ¡°How? Where?¡± ¡°I got on the radio, and on tv,¡± she said, the smugness unmistakable. ¡°Do you have any idea how many people are bored out of their minds and also worried that they¡¯ll die at any moment? That¡¯s a lot of pent up energy to harness, Cat. It¡¯s like when the kittens at home saw someone get adopted and then they all got a little manic. But instead of adoption it¡¯s death by aliens and... actually, that doesn¡¯t make sense, nevermind.¡± ¡°You¡¯re running ads?¡± I asked. She giggled. ¡°Yeah! Turns out some of the people who volunteered first and who were doing the more administrative stuff know people who know people. It¡¯s nothing special. Just me talking to someone filming from their aug.¡± ¡°Still,¡± I said. Though, to be fair, if Lucy asked me to join an army I¡¯d have a hard time saying no... ¡°Okay, well where are you, I¡¯ll stop over and drop off those suits you want.¡± ¡°You could give them to someone where you are and I¡¯ll have them driven back.¡± ¡°Yeah, no, it¡¯s fine, I¡¯ll do it myself,¡± I said. I bet Lucy was surrounded by able-bodied young men and women and I didn¡¯t need any of them having ideas. Not that I¡¯d ever put the security of an entire city at risk just to kiss my girlfriend and ward off anyone eyeing her up. That would be petty and stupid. ¡°Give me ten minutes and I¡¯ll be with you,¡± I said. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m still at the mall. We took over a few shops since no one was using them. Do you think you could get us more normal gear too? We need better communication stuff, the Milita¡¯s being a bit of a pain about letting us know what¡¯s going on.¡± ¡°They¡¯re being unhelpful?¡± ¡°Eh, not quite, they¡¯re busy and I think informing us of what¡¯s going on is like ten steps down on their list of priorities. I¡¯m not getting the sense that they¡¯re being pricks on purpose.¡± ¡°Ah, okay,¡± I said. ¡°Well, maybe you¡¯d like to meet my new friend. They¡¯re cringey as hell, but helpful enough...¡± *** Chapter Thirty-Six - Catmodore Lucy Chapter Thirty-Six - Catmodore Lucy ¡°A Vanguard¡¯s equipment purchasing choices need to take into account the possibility of returns on investment. Equipment destined for civilian use that costs hundreds of points to purchase but which only generates a few points--or perhaps none--in return, means a net loss for that vanguard. Nonetheless, some chose to outfit others, even if it means a smaller return, because it ensures the safety of those people, regardless of potential losses.¡± --Vanguard AI Syacus, 2026 *** I returned to the mall to find it a hive of busy activity. Lucy¡¯s kittens were out by the entrance, or a few of them were, at least. They stood out with their cat-eared uniforms. They were keeping an eye on things where the militia seemed to be missing. I slid past them and into the main corridor of the mall to find it a somewhat changed place. People were lining up to one side where a booth had been set up that was handing people pills in those little paper cups with the nineties-print designs on the sides. Anti-zombie pills? That would make sense. The place handing them out was being guarded by a couple of Lucy¡¯s kittens in full kit. I wondered why they were going so slow until I noticed that the person handing out the meds was handing them out from a single little crate, and it looked like it was all they had. Shit, was this whole thing a way to keep the folk in line calm? Give people the impression that there were enough meds to go around? That... would actually track. Lucy and I had done similar before. Handing out all of the food we had, then pretending we had more for the next day and the one after while silently hoping that we¡¯d get more before the kids found out. Things weren¡¯t looking so good then, on that front. Otherwise though, the mall seemed like an industrious place. People were sweeping the floors, setting up tents indoors and I idly noted that nearly everyone was up to something. Busywork, maybe, but it would keep them out of trouble and feeling like they were contributing at least a little. I found the one leading this orchestra on the second floor, in a more open store where people could see her giving out orders and instructing people and receiving reports. Lucy had found a rather nice coat somewhere, with pips around the sleeves and big squared-off shoulders. She was wearing it like a cape, almost, arms out of the sleeves. And atop her head she had a cap similar to the ones the militia officers wore, but with a pair of fuzzy cat ears sticking out of the sides. Did it look silly? Yes. Did it look kind of hot as well? Also yes. ¡°Hey,¡± I said as I uninvisibled myself while leaning on one of the nearby tables. A few people jumped, and I was happy to see hands fly towards guns to keep Lucy safe, but her squealed ¡°Cat!¡± put everyone at ease. Then I had to grab onto the table as Lucy hugged me, her weight and mine making the table groan. ¡°Whoa, hey,¡± I said as I patted her back. ¡°Nice to see you too.¡± ¡°I hate the position you put me in,¡± she said with a smile that suggested otherwise. ¡°We have seventeen injured so far. And those uniforms of yours don¡¯t clean up nice. It¡¯s not ideal to hand off new soldiers'' uniforms still covered in blood, you know. Myalis, if you¡¯re listening, take note of that one.¡± Noted. ¡°But things are holding together?¡± I asked. ¡°So far,¡± she said. ¡°We have something of a training system going on in the parking garage. It¡¯s... about the best we can do when the entire training regime lasts just under an hour, but it should prevent people from shooting their own toes off.¡± ¡°The guns are smart, they should probably stop that from happening anyway.¡± She snorted. ¡°A smart weapon¡¯s intelligence pitted against the average person¡¯s stupidity? I¡¯ll be betting on the stupid, thank-you-very-much.¡± I grinned. ¡°That¡¯s fair, actually.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fair in everything but skin,¡± she replied. ¡°Now, I need your help.¡± ¡°Alright, you seem to be keeping this city together better than I have.¡± She snorted and waved my comment off. ¡°None of that. You¡¯re making people do stuff, which I think is half the solution sometimes. People know you¡¯re acting and they¡¯ve seen you all over the place. It gives them hope, I think.¡± ¡°Yeah, hope¡¯s nice and all, but it doesn¡¯t kill aliens well.¡± She shrugged. ¡°It¡¯ll keep people fighting, and fighting people do kill aliens pretty well sometimes. Don¡¯t knock it. Now, we can pep talk later. I need more of those standard suits, I need something biohazard-proof for dealing with corpses and zombies, and I need meds. Not just anti-zombie meds--though we need those--we need normal stuff too.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I nodded along slowly. ¡°Alright, I... give me a sec. Myalis, what¡¯s my point total looking like?¡± Current Points: 62,346 Huh. Lower than I¡¯d want, but higher than I expected. I had killed a few aliens here and there, and I supposed that even with a few degrees of separation I was earning a point or two from every kill the kittens did. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Can we get more of those suits? The same as before... with the, uh, easier cleaning methods? Same package, basically. Lucy, any trouble with any other part of the kit?¡± ¡°Maybe make the chest armour a tiny bit bigger? It¡¯s one-size-fits-all, and it¡¯s easy to adjust, but at the same time we¡¯ve got a lot of volunteers who¡¯ve never seen a treadmill before, if you know what I mean.¡± I nodded. That made sense. I can accommodate that, yes. Nearly the same price as last time. Ninety-five points per set. I chewed on my lower lip as I did some mental math. ¡°Let¡¯s get a hundred of those,¡± I said. ¡°We need more than that,¡± Lucy replied. I crossed my arms. ¡°Sure, but I can only afford so many. And I want to get you guys more crew-served weapons, the medicine, the hazmat suits...¡± ¡°Alright, fine,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Come on, I made sure to leave some tables cleared up in the hallway for just this kind of thing. We¡¯ll give the suits to our best. And... maybe we¡¯ll hit up an armoury for some extras.¡± ¡°An armoury?¡± I asked. She smiled. ¡°There¡¯s a couple across the city. They¡¯re filled up with old samurai-tech weapons. Meant for exactly this kind of scenario. But they¡¯re locked up tight, to make sure not just anyone gets to the guns. Which is shit because right now we need them.¡± ¡°That does seem annoying,¡± I said. I shook my head. ¡°Anyway, other stuff first. Any ideas of those hazmat suits, Myalis?¡± Fully sealed environmental suits, with some degree of customization when it comes to size. A simple rebreather mechanism and an air filtration unit, as well as... if I understood it correctly, flame-throwers? I¡¯m afraid you don¡¯t have a catalogue for those. I frowned. I didn¡¯t. I could get one for probably pretty cheap, but Myalis hadn¡¯t mentioned that. Which meant she probably wanted me thinking about it the way I was just now... ¡°How long has Gomorrah been out there without a break?¡± I asked. Four and a half hours, according to Atyacus. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. That was probably longer than a soldier was supposed to spend in an active fight. Samurai she might be, she¡¯d still get tired. I opened a chat window and sent her a message. ¡°Gom, we need you at the mall. Equipping civilians with flame-throwers and could use your help. Come over and eat too. Working break.¡± There, that would prevent her from... heh, burning out. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s get the suits, and let Gom figure out the flamethrower part of it.¡± These suits alone will cost seventy-two points each. ¡°I think fifty should do?¡± I asked with a look to Lucy. She was quick to nod. ¡°More than enough, really. We don¡¯t have that many people with training in handling dangerous biohazard stuff, and some of the people we do have had their own equipment already. I just wanted a team or two I could send out from here to take care of things.¡± ¡°Right, perfect. Now, the medication. We¡¯re going to want something like a full-body healing med, a first aid kit for simpler stuff, and like, an industrial crate of anti-zombie medications.¡± Myalis summoned up the two sets of equipment for me. On one side the suits in their familiar plastic cases, and on the other the hazmat suits. Lucy opened one of those cases up and pulled out the top of a folded, rubbery-looking outfit done up in beige and blacks with some highlighter-pink bits. It had a big glass half-dome at the front to see through... with two cat-ear protrusions on top that looked like they held forward-facing flashlights. The medication shouldn¡¯t be too expensive. Packs of ten pills for Model Seven prophylactic treatment are only one point each, and I can get standardized first-aid kits for ten points apiece. The more advanced medical kits will cost a little more. ¡°Well, let¡¯s do it then,¡± I said. A few minutes later, Lucy was cracking the whip and people were stocking up on supplies to carry all across the city. Current Points: 46,546 *** Chapter Thirty-Seven - A Genius Idea Chapter Thirty-Seven - A Genius Idea ¡°There are several curated, quick, and even inexpensive services willing to teach a budding or even experienced samurai how to handle public-facing tasks. We strongly encourage any samurai that wants to have any amount of time in the spotlight to take one or more of these classes. The lessons might seem like common sense for the most part, but they are nonetheless invaluable. You don¡¯t want to have the public turn on you because of mismanaged PR.¡± --Family Head of PR John J.J. Johnson, 2051 *** I could have very easily spent the rest of the afternoon trailing after Lucy and scaring people into doing what she said. In fact, I¡¯d done that before and it was always very enjoyable. I don¡¯t know what it said about me as a person, but something about seeing Lucy go full girlboss on people, unleashing her barbed tongue then snapping around to being the sweetest, most angelic person in the world faster than anyone could blink really did it for me. Unfortunately, all good things had to come to a crashing explosion of an end. My comms spat on and I jumped as a voice blared into my ears. ¡°Cat, where the fuck are you?¡± That was Gomorrah, nice, proper-Christian-girl Gomorrah who didn¡¯t usually swear. Which meant that things were probably not going so well. ¡°I¡¯m here, what¡¯s up?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been running around lighting aliens on fire for the last hour and every time I turn around there¡¯s more of them. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m going to get swarmed here, but if I don¡¯t start getting help soon, I¡¯m going to lose it.¡± ¡°Okay, right, I¡¯m on my way. Can you hang on for ten minutes?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she snapped. ¡°I can hold on for ten minutes. I swear, if you spent the last hour goofing around I¡¯m going to rethink all the nice thoughts I had about you.¡± ¡°Right, right, I¡¯m coming. And I wasn¡¯t goofing around, I was arming the people and getting things set up back here.¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± The line went dead, and I sighed. Lucy waved the people she was talking to off, and they took the hint, leaving before Lucy had to really ask. She turned towards me, and her head tilted to the side a little. ¡°You okay?¡± ¡°Yeah, need to run though,¡± I said. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s alright,¡± she said. ¡°I think I¡¯ve got things handled here. The extra suits and gear will come in handy. I¡¯ll try to stay on top of things, so if you can keep the aliens off our asses, then we¡¯ll probably be fine.¡± I nodded, then slid my helmet off, wrapped an arm around Lucy¡¯s waist, and pulled her in close. Myalis brought up a handy countdown showing me that I had under five minutes left to get to Gomorrah while keeping my word, so I reluctantly broke the kiss. ¡°Okay,¡± I said once I caught my breath. ¡°We¡¯ll continue that later?¡± ¡°Oh, you can bet on it,¡± Lucy purred. I grinned, then pecked her on the cheek before backing up and tugging my helmet back on. ¡°Stay safe, alright?¡± ¡°I¡¯m supposed to say that to you,¡± she said. ¡°Go on, go save the day. I¡¯ll be back here making sure there¡¯s people to appreciate the saving once you¡¯re done.¡± She winked at me, and I ran off with a bit of pep in my step. Surprisingly, the militia technical was still waiting for me by the front of the mall. It seemed as if the driver had decided that chauffeur duties were either more fun or safer than whatever his actual job was meant to be. ¡°Hey, get me to... uh...¡± I checked our map, spotted Gomorrah¡¯s tag, then rattled off the name of the nearest intersection before leaping up onto the back of the pickup. The world outside of our walls was on fire. The technical slowed to a stop, mostly because a row of firefighting trucks was stationed on the edge of the street, hoses rolled way out towards the wall where guys in heavy flame-retardant gear and exo suits were spraying the inner side of the wall with water. That seemed enough, for now, to stop the flames from crawling over the barricades and towards the people on our side. As I watched an alien--a model three--made it over the wall and tumbled down the other side, skin peeling and fur aflame. One of the firefighters turned their hose onto the alien, dousing them before a militiaman put a round into its head. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. I tapped my comms back on as I jumped down from the back of the truck. ¡°Gomorrah, why is everything on fire?¡± ¡°Because the aliens haven¡¯t figured out how to flameproof themselves yet, and until they do, this is the most effective way of keeping them away.¡± ¡°Yes, but humans are also not fire-proof,¡± I pointed out. ¡°There¡¯s people keeping the fire contained. I fail to see how that¡¯s my issue.¡± I had never really liked alcohol, or rather, I could never afford it enough to grow a liking for it, but at that moment I was really tempted to pick up a bad habit. She was a little terse, maybe she really did need a break. ¡°Okay, Gom, come back on this side of the wall. Get something to eat, go take a shit or whatever, take twenty, yeah?¡± Gomorrah chuckled. ¡°Crude, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Always,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the wall for now. Once you¡¯re done with your break, mind heading over to River Heights?¡± I saw someone climb over the wall, then drop down on our side. Gomorrah, in her all-black outfits. Steam wafted off of her and drew little swirls in the air as she started to walk over. The folks guarding the wall gave her a wide berth. I walked over to meet her, then stopped when I was a metre off. My suit was fireproof, obviously, because I worked with Gomorrah enough that not having that would be stupid, but the fancy little sensors in my suit still let me feel the warmth coming off of my favourite nun. ¡°You¡¯re extra hot today, huh? Don¡¯t let Franny see you that way.¡± ¡°Are you going to say something about how she¡¯ll become so wet she¡¯ll douse my fire?¡± she asked, voice flat. ¡°Well... no, I hadn¡¯t thought of that, actually.¡± I laughed. ¡°And you said I was crude?¡± ¡°Shut up, Cat,¡± she said. ¡°So, River Heights. Are you evacuating that spot?¡± ¡°I ordered it. But I bet some of them aren¡¯t going to listen. Ever want to torch a McMansion before?¡± ¡°... now that you mention it, yes, I do want to do that.¡± I clapped. ¡°Fantastic! Now¡¯s your chance.¡± She patted me on the shoulder then walked on past. ¡°I¡¯m going to take my me-mandated break.¡± ¡°Oh! While you¡¯re at it, the folks at the mall need mini-flamethrowers to take care of the zombie problem.¡± Gomorrah paused, then shrugged. ¡°Alright. I can do that.¡± I watched her head out, then worked my shoulders loose. Without Gomorrah to feed the flames, literally, I imagined that our firewall wasn¡¯t going to last forever. I opened up our map of Burlington. ¡°Myalis, where are the other samurai at?¡± Sprout is patrolling the eastern cordon. I suspect he''s trying to gain points where the action is lightest. Arm-a-Geddon is still in River Heights. Manic is to your north, outside the walls perimeter. I nodded along. The Family has sent you a message. You have reinforcements en-route. ¡°Oh, thank fuck,¡± I said before searching for the message in question and opening it. >>>Stray Cat We appreciate the reports. Your request for undersea specialist samurai has been added to the queue. Expect arrival of an expert within the next three days. Your reinforcement request has been expedited. A battalion of Tier-2 prepped PMCs are on their way to Burlington. ETA, 2 days, 16 hours. -Thank you. I blinked. ¡°Two days.¡± How in the hells was I supposed to hold this place together for two days? And how many people was a battalion anyway? I bet it wasn¡¯t nearly as many people as I¡¯d need. The specialist only arriving in three days surprised me a little less. I bet there weren¡¯t many of those. What kind of idiot would want a job where they had to get submerged? I shook my head, picked up my gun from its sling, then watched the wall. I supposed I wouldn¡¯t have a choice now. If we had to hold, then we had to hold. We could set up rotations, get more of Lucy¡¯s people on the front line, maybe install more mortars and better defences and just hang on tight. ... I didn¡¯t like relying on people that weren¡¯t here yet, but what choice did I have? It wasn¡¯t like I could charge out to the nearest nest and fuck it up. My eyes narrowed. Wait... I could literally just do that. *** Chapter Thirty-Eight - Fire and Hammer Chapter Thirty-Eight - Fire and Hammer ¡°Crowds were the weapon of choice in the early 2020s, and for a while they continued to be so. Most governments were worried about firing into crowds of protestors. Certainly, it had worked at one time, but usually turned against them. Those that died were martyred and it showed the ruthlessness of the government. As social media progressed and became an ever-bigger part of humanity, the same governments grew increasingly worried that violent action could be turned against them. After all, politicians sleep in very flammable homes, just like the rest of us. But then some figured that it really didn¡¯t matter as long as you controlled the narrative, and by the end of the 2020s, the average response to a crowd of dissidents was lead and gas and prisons from which they¡¯d never leave.¡± --A History of Protest, Second Edition, 2036 *** I wasn¡¯t going to be stupid about this. Well, not too stupid. Charging out of some perfectly safe walls to go mess up an antithesis hive basically solo wasn¡¯t the epitome of intelligent choices. Gomorrah¡¯s little fire, which was still raging on just outside of the walls, was more or less under control, and had probably worked wonders for stalling the antithesis. They were stupid too, but not so stupid as to just jump into a fire for fun. So, if I was going to go out there... that would mean that I wasn¡¯t in the city if something went... when something went pear-shaped. Actually, that sounded like a pro, not a con. ¡°Myalis, I need to get in touch with a couple of folk. Can you link me up to Intel-chan and Manic?¡± Certainly. Dialling now. Intel-chan picked up on the call within a half second, and Manic wasn¡¯t too far behind. ¡°What do you want, Stray?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Ohio!¡± I grinned. ¡°Hey, we¡¯ve got some good news. Reinforcements are coming.¡± ¡°Less points for me,¡± Manic grumbled right away. ¡°In two days,¡± I continued. ¡°So between now and then, we¡¯re all on our own.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not ideal,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°I bet we¡¯re not getting much help either.¡± ¡°Right on the money. I don¡¯t know exactly how much help they¡¯re sending, but I¡¯ll bet my left tit it isn¡¯t enough. So I figured if no one¡¯s going to help us, we can only help ourselves. I¡¯ll be setting down some additional defensive shit down here. Gun emplacements, mortars, that kind of thing. Intel, can you get the militia to set them up where they¡¯ll be the most useful?¡± ¡°Can do! You¡¯re not going to give them to the kittens?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Nah. These are bigger guns, the militia has more training to use them, and I don¡¯t want to make it look like I¡¯m playing favourites, even if I am. Just make sure they¡¯re not abusing the privilege, because I can and will take their toys away and give them to people who¡¯ll actually use them.¡± ¡°That seems fair,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Honestly, the boys will just be happy to have cool samurai tech to play with. It¡¯ll boost their mood.¡± ¡°Right, that¡¯s cool. I¡¯m also thinking of giving the militia some meds. Things that¡¯ll keep them wide awake for a nice long while. I think I can buy that kind of thing for cheap. It might keep everyone on their feet until the reinforcements arrive.¡± ¡°This is all nice and shit, but why am I on this call?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Because while the nice militia folk keep the city cosy and safe for us, we¡¯ll be heading out to exterminate some hives. I don¡¯t mind doing it solo, but having two makes it all a lot safer, and it¡¯s not like there¡¯s a lack of shit to kill.¡± Manic took a moment to respond, and I had the impression she was chewing over the decision. ¡°Why not take one of the others?¡± ¡°Gomorrah needs a break. Arm-a-Geddon is helping in River Heights. Sprout¡¯s not equipped for this kind of thing,¡± I said. ¡°And... well, what are you doing?¡± ¡°Just killing any of the little shits I¡¯m running into. Wouldn¡¯t mind going for something a little bigger myself.¡± ¡°Cool. Stick around where you are, I¡¯ll be with you in like, half an hour. Intel-chan, you still there? Yeah? Okay, tell the militia that I¡¯ll be dumping some tools here before heading out.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± Intel-chan said. I moved off to one side, where I had a bit of space to work with, then I started buying stuff. It wasn¡¯t anything too complicated, and mostly Myalis picked things out for me that had a nice correlation between usability and cheapness. I didn¡¯t pay too much attention, honestly. Sure, the gear was cool. The machine-guns were water-cooled and fired bullets the thickness of my thumb, and the mortars had little screens attached to them tied to a GPS system and they could self-adjust to aim more precisely, but those were all secondary details. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. I was spending more brain power wondering how we¡¯d hit the hives on the other side of the wall than I did worrying about the cost. Strange how once I had been a lot more cautious about wasting even a single point when I didn¡¯t need to. Maybe I¡¯d start spending points on myself too one day. In the end, I bought ten machine guns and five mortars, along with enough ammunition to keep them all going for a good long while. They¡¯d supplement the defences the militia had already set down. I decided to let someone else figure out where to place them. A few trucks rolled in, and I nodded to the militia folk jumping out to check on the gear and pack it up. The last thing I added to the pile was a small case of medication. They were all tablets with an unholy mix of caffeine and other drugs that would keep someone wired and awake for days on end. It¡¯d probably shave a few months off their life too, but it was better than dying right away, I figured. The fires were still spreading when I crossed the front lines and reached the part nearest to Manic. The noisy samurai was past the wall, holding in place about two blocks down. When I crossed over the wall and started walking, I quickly found the route she¡¯d passed through. Her sound-based gun had a particular impact when it struck, and it was easy to tell where she¡¯d passed from all the shattered glass and the particular way the dust covering the roads had moved in great rippling semi-circles. ¡°Hey!¡± Manic called out to me as I came around a corner. She was sitting atop the wreck of an abandoned car, one arm raised in greeting. The area around her was filled with shredded antithesis remains. ¡°You showed up.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Been getting lots of visitors?¡± ¡°A few. They don¡¯t like my taste in noise,¡± she said with a dangerous grin. ¡°Bit too metal for their tastes.¡± I laughed. ¡°They don¡¯t like my toys either. Strange how picky these aliens are, huh?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure your toys aren¡¯t to most people¡¯s taste,¡± Manic said. That... actually hit close to home. Mister Tentacles was a fine gentleman, but I imagined that he was probably a bit much for the average person. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Didn¡¯t bother coming up with one,¡± I admitted. ¡°I was thinking we ask our AI where the biggest gathering of aliens are, then we blow them up.¡± Manic jumped off the roof of the car and stood to her full height. ¡°I¡¯m down for that. I¡¯m guessing if we kill them all they won¡¯t be a problem anymore.¡± ¡°I doubt we¡¯ll manage to kill that many,¡± I said. ¡°But if we kill enough of them, then we¡¯ll be able to hold out. Once the Family sends over someone who can burst the underwater hives, then we¡¯ll just have to mop up the rest and then I can finally get back home.¡± Manic nodded along. She didn¡¯t volunteer to go take a dip in the lake, so I figured she was about as loath to do that as I was. I noticed that her equipment had changed a little. She was wearing different pants, these with pads on the thighs and over the knees, as well as a new jacket that seemed a little bulkier than her last. More armour? She still wasn¡¯t covering all of her head, but I imagined that would come with more points to spend. ¡°So, Myalis, where¡¯s the biggest heap of them?¡± A number of them are on the edge of the fires that Gomorrah started. They aren¡¯t moving away from the fires, but are congregating on the edges and seem to be looking for a way past them. Fortunately, they haven¡¯t started looking for a way around the fire yet. That would stretch the front, which wasn¡¯t something we needed or wanted. Unfortunately, Gomorrah¡¯s fires aren¡¯t great for the delicate electronics in the area, and as it progresses, I¡¯m losing access to traffic and security cameras. ¡°Huh... we might be able to play the hammer to the fire''s anvil,¡± I said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t think fire would work well as an anvil, but I get what you mean.¡± Manic checked the charge on her sound blaster and then shouldered it. ¡°We heading out, or what?¡± ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s go make up some of the points I¡¯ve been spending,¡± I said. *** Chapter Thirty-Nine - Getting a Clue Chapter Thirty-Nine - Getting a Clue ¡°The Vtuber boom of the early 2020s turned into a strange phenomena. At some point it became relatively cheap for brands to have their own Vtuber mascot, either with a real person behind the digitised face, or a carefully curated auto-responding AI. That led to an entire generation that grew up more comfortable interacting parasocially with vtubers than with real life humans.¡± --Rise of the Anime Girl, a study in three parts, 2035 *** I took point, mostly because I was the more subtle of the two of us. Going invisible--after pinging Manic to get her augs to display my location--meant that I was... not visible to the aliens. Whatever. Point was, I was better at the front than the rather loud Manic, who was even now blasting some music from some speakers built into her clothes. I wasn''t a music buff, but I recognized Fortunate Son when I heard it. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was entirely appropriate to the context but I wasn¡¯t going to start a debate I¡¯d lose about music. I checked my map as I walked down the side of a quiet street. The biggest confirmed group of antithesis was just a couple of blocks down, most of them gathering in a five-way intersection right on the edge of the fires that Gomorrah had started. My plan had once been to take the aliens out while leaving as much of the city intact as possible, but that particular plan was several hours old by this point and with Gomorrah lighting everything up, it was kind of a moot point. I¡¯d hold back from the really destructive explosives, because the splash from those might hit Downtown and injure the folk I was meant to protect, but that still left me with more choices than before. ¡°Okay,¡± I said over the comms so that Manic could hear me. ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea.¡± ¡°What is it?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯m going to dip into the area with all the aliens, figure out which hole they¡¯re crawling out of, then set bombs next to those. We¡¯ll collapse the entire area down, then move in to mop up the survivors.¡± ¡°Sounds like there isn¡¯t much for me to do in that plan of yours.¡± ¡°Would you rather hit up a group that outnumbers us a hundred to one head on?¡± I asked. ¡°Huh... alright, fair. Not quite at that level yet.¡± ¡°Me neither,¡± I said before shutting my comms off for a moment. ¡°Myalis, can I have some resonators, maybe a few proximity mines, and... I guess some acid bombs. You know the ones that float up and rain acid down on an area?¡± I¡¯m familiar, yes. Are you getting these to prepare yourself? ¡°No, I¡¯m giving them to Manic with instructions. If the aliens try to get at her they might cover her retreat.¡± Manic didn¡¯t seem impressed when I gave her the equivalent of a tupperware bin full of esoteric explosives, but she got the idea easily enough. ¡°You just want me to cover my ass?¡± ¡°If you die while I¡¯m a block away, it¡¯ll look bad on my resume,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m glad I matter so much to you,¡± Manic muttered. ¡°These are some weird-ass bombs.¡± ¡°Hey, they¡¯re creative. I thought you¡¯d be all over that.¡± ¡°Blowing shit up isn¡¯t art,¡± she said. I stared. ¡°Huh. And here I thought you knew something about art. Guess my impression was dead wrong.¡± Manic rolled her eyes, then made a shooing gesture at me. ¡°Go on, get to work, Stray Cat. But leave a few for me, would you?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± I said before patting her on the shoulder. I checked my gun for the third time, then started running off towards a nearby building. It had a bridge on its fifth floor that connected it to its neighbour and which should give me a nice view of the area where the antithesis were crowded. I wanted a bird''s eye view of things before I got down and had to navigate around the xenos. I regretted that choice by the third floor. Sure, my suit had some neat setup that made walking up stairs a little easier, but it was still hell on my calves, and even if an exoskeleton kinda helped, it still used some muscle groups that weren¡¯t used to being used at all. ¡°Just think of how thick your thighs will be,¡± I muttered to myself as I pushed past the burn and continued to jog up the stairs. ¡°Crush Lucy¡¯s head, just like in her dreams.¡± This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. On reaching the fifth floor, I navigated through a few corridors and across a rather boring bridge above an alley and into another apartment complex. It was the sort of shitty living space with minuscule homes and trashbags heaped out in the corridors where someone might, one day, be assed to clean up. The far end of the building had a wall with several windows that overlooked the big intersection. I walked over and caught my breath while taking in the scene below. The fires were spreading out to my left, though it looked like they weren¡¯t spreading all that well. A few small apartment buildings were up in flames, but some buildings right next to them were still fine. I was guessing, but I figured that maybe some places just didn¡¯t have enough flammable stuff on the outside to catch fire so easily. In any case, it didn¡¯t look like the fire would spread too much, or so I hoped. No way of knowing, not for a while, at least. I stopped paying so much attention to the scenery and focused more on the aliens below. There was no lack of those around. Model threes by the dozens, bigger ones, like fours and fives milling around the edges, and then a couple of big bastards. A couple of model fourteens, the big centipede guys with the heavy plates over their segments, a few model fifteens, the artillery aliens that spat out those spiky wheels, and a single huge model eighteen in the centre. The latter looked a bit fucked, with parts of its side looking partially melted, though not the way I¡¯d expect them to if they were burned. The nanomachines at work? If so, the little robots had a lot of chewing left to do. The only other time I¡¯d seen a model eighteen was in the defence of New Montreal. It had dug its way under our defences and came popping out of the backline ready to rip our crap apart. It had taken on a tank and won. There was absolutely no way our defences right now could handle one of those, even half-chewed up as it was. ¡°What is up with this hive?¡± I muttered. It might be throwing everything it has at the wall to see what sticks, to borrow a quaint colloquialism. ¡°Right,¡± I said. Bigger aliens like that might take longer for the nanomachines to kill. So they¡¯d actually be effective for a while before dying. Maybe Gomorrah¡¯s fire had been the right solution all along, because all of these hitting the piss-poor defences we had would have caused a huge breach. The militia didn¡¯t have the firepower to take the bigger guys out, not unless they got lucky or drew the fight out. And drawing out a fight was almost always something the antithesis wanted. ¡°Let¡¯s go say hi,¡± I said. The way back down was much easier than the path up, owing to gravity being a friend for once and because I practised with my jump jets by leaping down entire flights of stairs. On arriving at the ground floor, I checked to see if my stealth stuff was still properly active, then I resisted the temptation to kick open the exit door. Instead I carefully pushed it open and slipped outside. A model three¡¯s head rose and it opened its three-hinged mouth as if it was sniffing the air. I moved on past it, careful with my footfalls not to disturb any of the junk on the road. There was a light rain coming down from above. Not water, but ash. Thick grey flakes that settled on everything and cast the world in shades of grey and black. The aliens were just slow enough that the stuff accumulated on their backs and sides, turning them into marble statues of grotesque monsters. It also meant that I was leaving prints in the ground behind me, the same way boots used to leave prints in the snow, back when snow was a thing in this hemisphere. I weaved my way around the bigger aliens. I didn¡¯t know if they¡¯d have sharper senses or not, but I wasn¡¯t ready to bet my life on a not. ¡°Myalis, any clue where these guys are coming from?¡± I asked. Then one of the doors to a building across the street slammed open and a wave of model threes followed by bigger, uglier aliens came pouring out. ¡°Nevermind, I think I figured it out.¡± *** Chapter Forty - All at Once Chapter Forty - All at Once ¡°There was no need for Cyberpunk 2178 to actually kill the player if they died.¡± --IRN article, 2045 *** I skipped--not literally--on over to the building the aliens were pouring out of. They slowed down at around thirty, then stopped around fifty-ish aliens of a few different models, all in the single-digits, all looking pretty damned healthy, though a few had signs of being chewed up by nanomachines, it was light stuff, not the half-melted walking corpses I¡¯d seen earlier. Our nanomachine attack had worked, so I couldn¡¯t complain too much, but it looked like its effectiveness was dying down. ¡°Do you think they¡¯re growing resistant to the nanomachines?¡± I asked. That would be nearly impossible. What is more likely is that they found other ways of countering them. ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡± You don¡¯t need to be resistant to fire to put it out with a bucketful of water. In this case, I imagine the simplest solution would be for parts of the hive which are unaffected to produce as many units as possible while recycling itself frequently. Eventually most of the nanomachines will be used in the flesh of models being sent out of the hive. ¡°Would that work?¡± I asked. If someone spits in your drink and you empty half of it, then refill the glass, then empty half only to refill it again, eventually, after sufficient repetitions, there won¡¯t be any noticeable traces of spit left. ¡°Did you have to use that analogy?¡± I asked. No. I shook my head. ¡°Thanks for the mental image,¡± I said. Trust me, the contents of your average bottle of drinking water are far more worrisome than another human¡¯s saliva. ¡°Also great,¡± I muttered. I¡¯d crossed most of the way to the building the aliens had come from when I heard a faint bang on the other side of the street and several more came out of another nearby building. Were the two connected, or were there multiple hives disgorging aliens in the same spot? Or was it something else entirely? Maybe the basements of these buildings were linked? In any case, I didn¡¯t feel like spending the day exploring each of those possibilities. So I ducked into the first building, carefully stepping around piles of broken glass. My boots might have been designed for stealth, but there was no point in being lazy and inadvertently making something crunch. A few nearby model fours twitched their tentacles my way at my passing, but they dismissed it soon enough. Could they sense the motion of the air? That was disturbing, but probably not too surprising from a stealth ambush model. The inside of the building they were using to get out of their underground shithole was, predictably, a mess. I suspected it was some sort of office building at first, but the big plaques on one wall and the bulletproof glass above the counters suggested that this was more of a motor-vehicle licence place than anything else. The lobby was quite large, packed with plastic seats so tight that I imagined it would pinch the circulation of anyone that wasn¡¯t a toddler, and there were multiple guard stations around the room. Some of those chairs had been ripped up, as had all of the plastic plants in the corners. The antithesis were probably disappointed at their unrealism. The aliens had left a nice trail across the linoleum leading to the back of the lobby and into a corridor that probably led to the washrooms and to the back end of the building. I stepped around some of the bloodstains dragged across the floor and tried not to think too hard about them. Probably some poor fucks caught outside, or some family pets that hadn¡¯t been dragged into Downtown in time. Whoever¡¯s blood it was, it was now feeding the hive. ¡°Hey.¡± I startled, then swore under my breath before answering. ¡°What¡¯s up, Manic?¡± I asked. ¡°How¡¯s shit going?¡± she asked. ¡°Because I¡¯m over here, sheltering in some shitty run-down apartment looking through some guy¡¯s classic CD collection and slowly losing my mind.¡± ¡°Yeah, well at least you¡¯re not being spooked while crawling through a deathtrap,¡± I said as I pushed further in. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.I wasn¡¯t expecting to turn a corner and find the floor missing, the walls ripped apart, and a stack of rubble pressed up to the edge of a slope that dropped down into an unlit basement. ¡°Fuck,¡± I said. ¡°What?¡± Manic asked. I rolled my eyes. She was really ruining the tension here. So I connected my cybernetic eye¡¯s visuals to the channel she was on, so that she could see things from my literal point of view. ¡°Big old hole in the middle of a building,¡± I said. ¡°This isn¡¯t normal, if you hadn¡¯t guessed.¡± ¡°No shit,¡± Manic said. ¡°They coming up?¡± The ¡®they¡¯ was a group of model threes that started to scramble up the rubble ramp. I jumped down, then to the side, gripping onto cracked chunks of cement as I let the aliens by. They passed close enough that I could almost smell them. I flicked on my helmet¡¯s lowlight vision and looked around. The entire basement had been remodelled recently. Walls torn out, with only a few pillars remaining, but with plenty of new alien shit to make up for the loss. There were pools of goopy crap all over, with large egg sacs piled waist-high at the end of the room and thigh-thick roots ran across the floor in zig-zag patterns. ¡°This is a whole-ass hive,¡± I said. A relatively new one. I suspect that this one is absorbing the biomatter of the hives that we hit earlier. It would make sense for the antithesis to retreat and then work to purge itself of its infection this way. There is a historical precedent. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. Then I jumped back and ducked behind a pillar as a model four came waddling past. It was carrying a mass of antithesis flesh which looked extra fucky, the kind of fucky that came from our nanomachines. I moved on past, and on a whim I started to follow it. It didn¡¯t get too far. Just to another room with a torn apart floor. There was a pit there, maybe some five or six metres deep, but a dozen metres wide, and entirely filled with rotting plantmeat. The model four tossed in the chunk it held, then hopped down to its death. ¡°They¡¯re really working on purging themselves,¡± I said. ¡°Smart, for a bunch of plants,¡± Manic said. ¡°So, blowing them up?¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± I said. ¡°But if they don¡¯t like the nanomachines, I don¡¯t see a reason to stop giving them some. Myalis, more of those cat drones, and a lot more nanomachines. Can you follow the roots to wherever they¡¯re getting their biomass from? We¡¯ll undo whatever progress they have here.¡± A startlingly good idea! I huffed, but didn¡¯t comment. ¡°So no explosion?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Oh yeah, big explosions,¡± I said. ¡°We just need to stall until help shows up, right? So let¡¯s ruin this place. I think acid sprayers all over, and then enough boom to bring the entire building down?¡± That should work. What followed was a nervous half hour of me moving across the basement, unnoticed by the antithesis who were pumping out more and more aliens which immediately set out to leave. They were growing so fast that when I paused to stare, I could literally see them growing in their egg sac things. There was some sort of system in place where the least infected plant meat was ripped apart and reused, and the most infected was tossed out and segregated, all while the hive continued to produce like mad. At this rate of growth, these models will be significantly weaker. There¡¯s a reason most models take as long to grow as they do. Chemical reactions can only be hurried up so much. Once I had placed a few dozen little tanks full of rapidly-spreading acid around, I set out to place my second happy surprise. These weren¡¯t anything special, just plain-old plastic explosives in little baggies that would keep them safe from the acid. When I was done, I jogged out of the building, then froze up on reaching the intersection above. It was full, with nearly twice as many antithesis lingering around out in the open as before. ¡°Okay... so, we blow up the building, then... hey, Manic, think you could take on this bunch?¡± ¡°On my own? Maybe if they come at me one at a time.¡± ¡°I mean all at once,¡± I said. ¡°Fuck, I don¡¯t know,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe?¡± ¡°Get closer, and don¡¯t get noticed. Once I set off all the bombs in the world, we¡¯ll cull this little herd the old fashioned way.¡± *** Chapter Forty-One - Extinction of a New Sort Chapter Forty-One - Extinction of a New Sort "And it came to pass that as the earth was plagued by the sins of man, extinction rates did rise and the creatures of the land and sea were lost. For their genomes were coveted by those with greed in their hearts, and taken for selfish gain. And so it was that the great sharks were lost, for they were cloned to satiate the desires of the wicked. And their genomic samples were locked away, hidden behind walls of technology, protected by the very greed that caused their downfall. Thus did biodiversity perish, one sinful act at a time." --The Ecoterrorist¡¯s Manifesto, page 41, verse 12 *** I ran over to the building Manic was hiding in just as I heard a very strange but very unique sound, the charge up whine and bassy boom of Manic¡¯s sound gun going off. Some of the windows at the front of the building clattered apart, sending sheets of glass tumbling onto the street and alerting every alien in the area that something was up. ¡°Fuck,¡± I muttered under my breath as I double-timed it into the building. Behind me, the stirring mass of aliens was starting to move in the same direction. I was sure a few would notice the front door opening and closing on its own, but there was nothing for it. I ordered up a grenade with a laser tripwire and some sticky shit on the side of it and pressed it to the wall next to the entrance before running deeper in. ¡°Need a few more of those,¡± I said as I started to go up the stairs. I left one at every landing. They¡¯d be a nice gift to any aliens trying to run up behind me. Manic was on the fourth floor, and when I reached her, I found the woman with a boot pressed up against the front of a model five, her other shoe slipping backwards as she levelled her bass cannon into the alien¡¯s mouth and fired. There was that familiar whine, then a single loud ¡®borf¡¯ sound that made all the dust on the ground skip up and ripped the alien apart from the inside out. She stumbled backwards, regained her footing, then started looking for the next target. There were a few model threes rushing across the open room, but before she could aim at them I fired at the lot in full auto, and was suddenly reminded that I didn¡¯t have the stealthiest kind of bullet loaded into my gun. Still, I nailed the three with four shots, then ordered up a resonator and tossed it into the corner of the room where it released its high-pitched squeal. ¡°You good?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah,¡± Manic said. She flicked a strip of alien meat off her gun. ¡°Gonna want a shower after all of this.¡± ¡°I thought the ¡®covered in gore¡¯ look was very punk,¡± I said. ¡°Eh, I¡¯m all for doing shit just for the vibes, but like, aesthetic¡¯s important but fuck if hygiene isn¡¯t important too, you know?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Slept with this one guy once. Real rocker sort. Fuck the system. He ended up in jail for molotoving some rich fuck¡¯s ride. Anyway, guy was cool, but he smelled like those ecigs all the time.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said, less interested. She gave me a look. ¡°What? Squeamish?¡± ¡°About fucking? Not when it¡¯s two women, like how God intended.¡± She blinked. ¡°But guys squick you out, really?¡± ¡°Hey, we all have our hang ups,¡± I said before I slipped past her and looked outside. The aliens were crowding by the bottom of the building and a number of them had taken to the skies. ¡°Shit, I was hoping to wipe a few out if they were closer to the explosion.¡± ¡°More for me to kill. So, gonna detonate that thing?¡± ¡°Give me a second, I¡¯m savouring it,¡± I said. She scoffed, then checked on her gun while I used my augs to select all of the acid bombs I¡¯d left in the basement. Once they were all connected, I tapped the detonate button. There wasn¡¯t a huge kaboom, which was expected. The acid bombs down there would be releasing a fine, rapid-spreading mist of very acidic... chemical stuff. I didn¡¯t know what kind of chemical, and if Myalis had told me I¡¯d forgotten already. It would start eating anything it could, organic and not, and was probably not very healthy for the aliens down there, what with them not being acid-proof as far as I could tell. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Those bombs alone, I imagined, might be enough to take down the building. I wasn¡¯t an architect, but I was pretty sure that melting all the pillars in a building¡¯s basement wouldn¡¯t be ideal for its structural integrity. Then I selected all of the more conventional bombs, held my breath, and tapped on detonate. The floor rumbled beneath me and a massive cone of dust shot out from the building. Then the entire thing just collapsed. The floors above crashed into those below as the bottom gave out. Chunks of cement broke off and rained down towards the street, ripping through an expanding cloud of dust and smoke and a little bit of fire. The rumble continued for a few long seconds, then subsided. I let go of the breath I¡¯d been holding in. ¡°Oh yeah, that was nice.¡± ¡°You getting off on this?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Nah, but I think I know what Gomorrah sees when she lights the world on fire. There¡¯s just something real beautiful about destroying things, you know?¡± ¡°Hmm, I¡¯ll stick to music and sex.¡± ¡°Your loss,¡± I said. The aliens below didn¡¯t seem to expect the big explosion, and a number of them were taken out by falling bits of masonry. Not all of them though, not even half, really. ¡°We should go down there. I saw them leaving through another building, so we might want to go blow that one up too.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll mean fighting through all of that,¡± Manic said. ¡°Mhm,¡± I agreed. Then I stuck my head out of the window (was it a window if it didn¡¯t have glass anymore?) and looked straight down. We were more or less above the entrance, so I ordered up a handful of grenades and let them fall, then chucked the pins down after them. ¡°That should keep them distracted for a second,¡± I said. I could hear detonations in the stairwell already, so they¡¯d found the bombs I¡¯d left in the landings. We waited a minute or two up above. Manic was muttering something, presumably to her AI because eventually a box appeared next to her and she opened it up to reveal a mask that she slid under the visor of her helmet and which clamped up to the back of her neck. ¡°It stinks,¡± she explained. Fair enough. My own air was filtered, so I wasn¡¯t enjoying the wonderful odour of burning buildings mixed with pulped aliens. Then she bought a pair of strange metal devices that she clamped around her biceps and over her leather-like jacket. It gave her a bit of a weird look. I couldn¡¯t begin to guess what those were, not until they slid open and revealed a set of speakers on the inside. A smaller version of her bass cannon? Placed the way they were, they¡¯d blast all around her. ¡°Ready?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah. Debating getting some boots.¡± ¡°Nice boots are nice,¡± I said. ¡°Might as well get pants though. You don¡¯t want some alien getting into yours, you know?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re interested in that,¡± she said. I shook my head. ¡°It¡¯s all fun and games until you see one of those tentacle ones up close,¡± I said. Manic paused. ¡°Actually, yeah, give me like, two minutes?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± I said. She slipped into one of the rooms nearby, and I went over to guard the stairs, giving her a bit of room. When she returned she was wearing very flattering pants that were made of some sort of smooth, shiny material. Same old boots though. ¡°Nice,¡± I said. ¡°Make your ass look fine.¡± ¡°My ass looked fine already,¡± she said. ¡°We heading down?¡± ¡°Yeah. I just need to disable the bombs I put on the stairs. The ones that didn¡¯t go off already.¡± I could do that from afar, fortunately, so that wasn¡¯t a big deal. There weren¡¯t many that hadn¡¯t gone off, just the ones on the last landing. As we started to make our way down, I discovered a slight issue though. ¡°Ah, shit,¡± I said as I looked at where the stairs should have been. The bomb had torn them apart, leaving a hole that led two floors down. ¡°Nice job,¡± Manic said. ¡°Hey, not my fault this place is basically built out of cardboard. I swear, how cheap can they get?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll just have to go around,¡± Manic said. It clearly didn¡¯t bother her all that much. To be fair, I just wanted to get to the ground floor to start killing shit, but I supposed going about it in a roundabout way wasn¡¯t so bad. *** Chapter Forty-Two - Quiet Chapter Forty-Two - Quiet ¡°Passwords are only so trustworthy. With the rise of AI computing and systems like SHA-256 becoming so easy to decrypt that anyone with the right second generation augs could do it, passwords fell by the wayside. In their place, came biometrics. Why use a password when you can use yourself? The ¡®why¡¯ became obvious as constantly leaked medical data started to render even biometrics useless for information protection. Now, anything less than a four-factor authentication system is considered ripe for the plundering.¡± --Infosec: On Biometrics and Safety Factors, 2031 *** ¡°Ready?¡± I asked. ¡°I was five minutes ago, I don¡¯t see why I wouldn¡¯t be now,¡± Manic said. I just nodded. I was getting used to her flippancy, which was probably because I would have said the same thing in her combat boots. We had made our way to another exit, this one into a side-alley. I couldn¡¯t hear any aliens on the other side of the door, so if anything was there, it was being quiet. There were plenty of the fuckers tromping into the apartment building though, most through the front. We could very easily hear claws on linoleum clattering about above us. ¡°I¡¯ll open, you go in, then I¡¯ll come in behind and cover your back,¡± I said. ¡°Go left.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Manic said. I took that as a yes and tore the door open. Manic jumped out, sonic gun coming up and whining already as it charged. Then I snuck out behind Manic and pointed my own gun to the right while looking for targets of my own. The alley ended a little ways in, with a few large trash containers and not much else. A model three was wrestling out a large tarp from one of the dumpsters, though it paused to stare at us with the cloth still in its jaws. I fired a small burst its way, then adjusted my aim to take account of the kickback. I needed to switch back to something a little more stealthy, bullet-wise, but that could wait for when I was empty. Manic jogged to the edge of the alley, then fired. The loud ¡®whump¡¯ was accompanied by a scattering of dust being kicked off the walls and floor. I turned and started looking for aliens to blow up around the noisy samurai. Her gun had a wide cone of fire, but it wasn¡¯t so wide as to clear out the entire street. There were still plenty of monsters around, and now that she¡¯d made her signature level of noise, they were all very much aware that we were there. Or at least, they knew about Manic. A few antithesis roared and squealed, but the majority of them were entirely quiet as they turned their attention onto us and rushed over. ¡°Just chaff,¡± Manic said. ¡°Bigger ones out back,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯ll take them out. Stay safe.¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± was her only reply. Flicking on my invisibility, I ran the long way around Manic, avoiding the cone of fire from her bass cannon even as I took a few potshots into the crowd and tried to tag the bigger bastards at the back. I clicked empty just as I reached a line of cars parked along the side of the road. I ducked down behind a wrecked electric car which looked like it had gone up in flames a while ago, then ordered up a fresh magazine for my rifle while my shoulder-mounted guns took care of sniping any of the flying antithesis above. ¡°I need something that¡¯s not as noisy,¡± I said. Coming right up. My Laser Pointer clicked, then made a happy little humming sound that was a little too close to a purr for comfort. It was enough to know that it was loaded up again. I let my shoulder-guns take a few more flying models down, then I jumped up to my feet and continued running. My targets were the bigger models in the centre of the intersection. The artillery aliens were going to be a pain to deal with for someone like Manic, and if that huge model eighteen decided to stomp over to her, it would all be over. Once I figured I was far enough to be outside of the range of Manic¡¯s bass cannon, I cut inwards. My Laser Pointer bucked as I unloaded it from the hip, splattering smaller aliens left and right. The middle of the intersection had this Y-shaped cement thing, with some streetlights in the centre and a few smaller billboards fixed to it. The bigger fucks were hiding out on the other side of that, which was fine by me. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.I summoned a trio of resonators and flung them ahead of me, the grenades started to whine while still in mid-air. They¡¯d take a while to melt anything though. Stopping with a skid, I dropped to a knee next to one of the cement buttresses, then looked over the edge. The model eighteen was turning, big legs stomping along as it started to go around and head towards Manic. I figured good odds it would just charge on over. ¡°Myalis, can I have a few of those garrote grenades, with remote detonators?¡± Certainly. I got three, which I supposed was what a ¡®few¡¯ was to Myalis. That was good to know. I grabbed them one at a time and flicked them out ahead of model eighteen, right where it was going to pass. They clattered and bounced and I swore when a model three kicked at one in passing, but then the model eighteen was barrelling past and I flicked on the detonator. In a split second, all three garrote grenades went off. Monomolecular wires unspooled like something from an OSHA inspector¡¯s worst nightmare and spun around in a dizzying tangle of whispering wires. When they hit flesh, they didn¡¯t even have the grace to slow down and merely sliced right through, kicking out ribbons of meat and blood that splattered out into the air around them. The model eighteen stumbled as its legs suddenly gained a million hyper-thin lacerations. It wasn¡¯t enough to kill it, but it was a nice start. What killed it was me running up to the alien from behind, ordering a sticky bomb on the way over, and slapping it down next to its neck before I continued to run. I set off the bomb behind me while I kept moving, and the warmth of the explosion just shoved me forward and gave me a little boost even as bits of alien rained down around me. My next targets were the model fifteens, the big, long artillery models stomping about in the back line. They were the big threat. One of those spiky balls they spat could ruin Manic¡¯s afternoon, and it looked like both of them were about ready to start spitting. ¡°Grenade,¡± I said. What kind? ¡°Boomy!¡± I shouted. Something landed in my hand and I threw it forwards as hard as I could. Fortunately my aim when throwing things, even with my cybernetic arm instead of my normal one, was pretty good, at least compared to my aim with any sort of gun. The bomb sailed through the air, then clacked against the ground between the two aliens. Then it exploded. I flinched, even though I was perfectly safe. Whatever fragmentation had been kicked up clattered against my armour. When I looked back up and through the smoke left behind, it was to find both model fifteens shredded in the middle, though they were still writhing a little. I put an end to that as I emptied my magazine into their sides, splitting my remaining rounds between the two. Turning, I surveyed the area. A few aliens were running out from behind cover, or from within nearby buildings, but they were a trickle, not a flood, and Manic seemed to be doing alright. Her bass cannon ¡®whumped¡¯ every couple of seconds, sending bodies flopping through the air and tossing back blood and guts in large waves. We started mopping up after that. I took them out from behind, with a few acid-rain bombs on the edges of the road creating more chokepoints and more resonators flung around to kill off any injured alien laying in one of the corpse heaps we were leaving behind. When I finally reached Manic, once the intersection quieted down, she was leaning against the wall of a building, her mask hanging around her neck and her hair plastered to her sweaty forehead. She had a cigarette out, and with a mumbled command, a lighter fell into her open palm. She lit it, tossed the lighter away, then took a long pull. ¡°That¡¯s not good for ya,¡± I said. ¡°What is?¡± she exhaled. ¡°Besides. Makes your voice huskier.¡± ¡°Fair enough, I suppose,¡± I said. ¡°We still have to blow that building right over there up. And then maybe look around for more spots where they¡¯ve settled underground.¡± ¡°How much blowing up are you intending to do?¡± ¡°Enough to keep the aliens off our backs between now and when reinforcements arrive, at least,¡± I said. She took another pull, then tossed the cigarette aside where it sizzled out in the blood of one of the alien¡¯s she¡¯d pulped. ¡°Alright, fine. I¡¯ll relax once it¡¯s all done.¡± *** Chapter Forty-Three - And I Have Killed It Chapter Forty-Three - And I Have Killed It ¡°Your art is dead, and I have killed it.¡± -GPT9, 2027 *** ¡°Kinda weird,¡± Manic said as she looked off to the side. I followed her gaze. She was looking at the space where there had been a building just a few minutes before. ¡°What¡¯s weird?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve spent most of my life in this city, you know? And just from one day to the next, the whole place has changed. I don¡¯t just mean the obvious, like... that building there. It¡¯s not that old. I remember some of these places being built. But now they¡¯re all fucked. It¡¯s weird.¡± ¡°I guess so,¡± I said. ¡°I haven¡¯t spent enough time here to really get used to the place.¡± ¡°Yeah, all you have is a snapshot. What Burlington''s right now, at this moment. But a place is more than just one moment in its history. It¡¯s... it is its history, I guess.¡± She reached under her visor and pushed a lock of blue hair away from her eyes. ¡°Nevermind.¡± ¡°Nah, it¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°I can get philosophical too sometimes... After a good orgasm, usually.¡± ¡°I get that too,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s music for me. The right beat, the right lyrics, at just the right moment in time. It can be something special, but if the time¡¯s off, then it¡¯s just more noise.¡± I nodded along, even if I didn¡¯t quite get it, not as deeply as she seemed to. Then again, I don¡¯t think anyone had ever accused me of having much depth. ¡°Enough philosophising,¡± I said with a gesture to the building across the street. No new aliens had snuck out of it in a while, but they had been coming out of there recently. ¡°Want to go blow that one up?¡± ¡°On my own?¡± ¡°Nah, I¡¯ll come with you. Unless you really wanna go solo? I can hand you the bombs.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I¡¯d rather not. I like working on my own when it¡¯s the choice between being a soloist or having to carry the show, but when you¡¯ve got a good thing going, there¡¯s no point in stopping it.¡± Well, that made me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. ¡°Sure,¡± I said. There hadn¡¯t been any more aliens to show up in a couple of minutes. Either the antithesis were being kind enough not to attack while we took a breather, or we¡¯d killed all of them in the area, or, as a special third option which I disliked the most, they were doing something fucky and were waiting to spring a trap on us. I went invisible again, checked my gun, ordered up a few more grenades, then a belt I could wear around my waist--which also went invisible on command and which had little pouches for my grenades to hide in, the damned thing only cost about seventy points and I regretted not getting something like it sooner the moment it was hooked in place. ¡°Ready?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah. So, we walk in, kill everything, then leave?¡± she asked. ¡°That¡¯s about the whole of it,¡± I agreed. ¡°If we find a big hive down there, then we¡¯ll fill the place with acid and collapse the building down on top of it all. Bet it¡¯ll make it a nightmare to clean later, but I care more about the short-term right now.¡± Manic charged up her bass cannon which made a very satisfying, very deep humming noise. The kind of shit that would have a sci-fi fan touching themselves. Then she started walking, and I jogged out ahead of her, taking point. This building was another apartment block, but it was slightly higher-end. The sorry sort of pod place where each inhabitant got a box to live in with about a hundred square feet of moving room to spare and all the amenities someone needed to live and not a single thing more. The lobby at least wasn¡¯t too tight, with a few study nooks to one side and a public kitchen off at the back. There had been a garden too, but it looked like the antithesis had ripped the door to that apart and then stole everything within. ¡°Nice place,¡± I said as I scanned around. There had been alien traffic here, and recently. The floor was covered in claw marks and the aliens didn¡¯t exactly wipe their paws before entering. ¡°Yeah, this place is expensive as fuck,¡± Manic said. ¡°Fifty thousand credits a month, easy.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Damn,¡± I said. ¡°I thought it was a pod place.¡± ¡°It is, but one of those fancy ones. They have good internet and community stuff going on. I think a lot of the folk staying here were going to the tech college nearby. Dated a girl from here for a week or so. The beds here are tiny.¡± ¡°Hah, so you are gay!¡± I said. I patted myself on the back for having a functional gaydar. ¡°She was a musician,¡± Manic said. ¡°Played the electric cello.¡± ¡°Is musisexual a thing?¡± ¡°Phonosexual?¡± she asked. ¡°I don''t know if that¡¯s a thing, but I know you¡¯ve never seen more people throw themselves at you than when you step off the stage after a good set. Free booze, free women, free men, easy friends. It¡¯s addicting. Some folk do it all for that high. Can¡¯t even blame them, though I¡¯m more of a puritan myself.¡± ¡°A puritan?¡± I asked. ¡°So you didn¡¯t sleep with the groupies?¡± ¡°What? Nah, of course I did. But I¡¯m in it for the art, not the banging.¡± I chuckled, then cut-off mid laugh as I heard a creak from out ahead of us. ¡°Company,¡± I said as I brought my gun up. Manic shuffled behind me, and her cannon started a low, warning hum. I had to find where the aliens were coming up to the surface from. They weren¡¯t using the damned elevator, that was for sure. Then as I pushed deeper into the first floor, past a room with a few foosball tables and whatever other corpo-crap that looked good in a pamphlet, I noticed a sign on one of the walls up ahead. ¡°This place has a swimming pool?¡± I asked. The power has been cut and the backup systems for the building don¡¯t include any camera access. Though I can safely say that some of the doors locked automatically and I¡¯ll be able to tell you if any of them open. I can¡¯t see into the basement. But I imagine that if the antithesis are anywhere, then they¡¯re below. I nodded along. Made sense. Plus if the sign I crossed was to be believed, there was a bar and a sauna down there. Screw being aliens, that¡¯s where I¡¯d be if I was them. ¡°Hey,¡± Manic said, and I paused. ¡°I¡¯m picking up something above.¡± She gestured to her ears, then pointed up. My own cybernetic ears twitched, and I listened. There was a lot of noise for what was an otherwise empty building. Lots of ticks and the groans you¡¯d expect from a normal building. Then I picked up on what she meant. A clattering noise that took me a second to place. ¡°Is that someone typing?¡± I asked. ¡°On an old-school keyboard, yeah,¡± she said. I hesitated, then decided to do the smart thing. ¡°We''re going to check on that,¡± I said. ¡°Then go down. I think we can mine this corridor, maybe get a drone out here to keep it safe?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got something like that,¡± she said. ¡°Got any bombs that won¡¯t cave the floor in this time?¡± ¡°Yeah, I might have something like that,¡± I said. Resonators were my go-to, but I had nasty little nanomachine grenades and a few others that wouldn¡¯t damage the building too much. Manic ordered something up, and it came in a box that, when she opened it, revealed a sort of six-legged dog drone thing, without a head, instead it had a bunch of heavy-duty speakers pointing in every direction. She aimed it down the corridor, then had it sit at an intersection. If it was anything like her bass cannon, then at least we¡¯d know when it fired, no matter where in the damned city we were. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go see what kind of dumbass is still in this shithole,¡± I said as I slapped a resonator next to the stairs, then took them up two at a time. The typing sound stopped, but not before I pinpointed its location on the third floor up. Every door I passed was shut and locked, but it was clear from the few that were left open that people had evacuated a while ago. Except, apparently, for this one dumbass. I found their room because of the light pouring out from under the crack of the door. The tapping resumed just as I stopped in front, and I could barely believe it. What kind of idiot stayed at home when the world was ending? *** Chapter Forty-Four - Jennifer Chapter Forty-Four - Jennifer ¡°Your waifu in your hands right now! Join today and get a 5% discount on your first Waifudoll purchase! All figurines are made in Japan from glorious Nippon plastic! NEW Samurai of 2028 figures! Squishable latex breasts!¡± --Waifudoll scrolling banner ad, 2029 *** I knocked. The typing noises stopped. Then after about twenty long seconds, they started again. ¡°Are you serious?¡± I asked. There is a personal computer on in the room. It isn¡¯t connected to the building¡¯s power grid. It¡¯s likely that it¡¯s being powered by a battery pack since the entire system is running on as few resources as possible. I shook my head, then tried the handle, which of course didn¡¯t work. So I kicked the door in. This wasn¡¯t some high-security place, the door was made of some cheap laminate stuff that caved in with the first kick. The biggest problem after that was unjamming my foot from the hole, but I managed without falling on my ass. Then I shoved the door aside and looked into what was clearly some degenerate¡¯s man-cave. The lighting was poor--only coming in from the corridor--but it was enough to see the wall-to-wall posters of women in barely any clothes. There were shelves with figurines, of course, and enough clothes on the floor to keep a family of six warm. And then, right there in the middle of the room, was a thin figure sitting behind a lit up screen. They turned their head slowly, and I found myself looking into a pair of eyes that were too blue to be real. ¡°What?¡± they asked. I felt like asking the same. I had expected someone, not something. But what I found was a petite woman with clearly artificial skin typing away on a laptop without even looking at the screen. ¡°Is that a fucking sex bot?¡± Manic asked. ¡°I think so,¡± I said. ¡°Hey.. who are you?¡± ¡°My name is Jennifer.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s... a very plain name, uh, are you human?¡± The android paused in her--its?--typing. ¡°Pardon me, but you have broken into my master¡¯s home. I have filed a report with the local authorities.¡± ¡°We¡¯re samurai,¡± I said. ¡°Also, even if we weren¡¯t the local authorities, I don¡¯t think it would matter much. There¡¯s an incursion ongoing. Uh, you don¡¯t know?¡± The sex bot blinked at me. ¡°I am aware. My master didn¡¯t give me instructions regarding the incursion. I must work.¡± ¡°What are you working on?¡± I asked. The screen next to her seemed to be filled with text. ¡°Erotica.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± I said. Manic poked me with an elbow. ¡°We should get going. Not saying it wasn¡¯t worth checking to see if there was someone here, but let¡¯s not waste our time?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Hey, uh, you¡¯re coming with us,¡± I said. ¡°What?¡± Manic asked. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving her here.¡± ¡°Stray, it¡¯s a robot,¡± Manic said. ¡°It¡¯s probably got an off-site backup or something. And I bet it¡¯s insured.¡± ¡°Yeah, but... no, it feels wrong to leave someone behind.¡± ¡°I am not supposed to leave,¡± the sexbot happily informed me. ¡°You¡¯re leaving anyway,¡± I said, putting my metaphorical foot down. ¡°I am not programmed to obey you,¡± Jennifer the sexbot said. I felt my frustration rise, especially as I noticed the shit-eating look Manic was giving me. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving you here,¡± I said. ¡°I bet I can carry your plastic ass out of here.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re being an ass towards the bot or if you actually care too much,¡± Manic said. ¡°It¡¯s plastic and bolts, I get that it looks human, but AI have ruined plenty of human stuff, including some poor asshole¡¯s sex life, apparently, so I don¡¯t see the point.¡± ¡°The point is... I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted, ¡°but I¡¯m not going to leave Jennifer here all on her own when we¡¯re literally planning on blowing up the building. In fact... Myalis, how sure can you be that there¡¯s no one else left in here?¡± Ninety-seven percent certainty. Before the cameras went out, they logged the exit of every tennant still in the building. It¡¯s entirely possible that someone remains that wasn¡¯t noticed, though it¡¯s unlikely. I could pinpoint the few potential locations a person is hiding in still, if you wish? ¡°Are they all conveniently close?¡± I asked. No. ¡°Right, give me some cat drones. How many places do you need to check?¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I see where you¡¯re going with this. Three drones would be sufficient to inspect every location in the amount of time I predict it will take you to set up the explosives. I nodded along. ¡°You¡¯re perfect. Three drones then, and help me get Jennifer here to leave. I feel bad about leaving her behind.¡± Certainly. ¡°You¡¯re not bothered that I¡¯m trying to save a dumb-AI machine?¡± I asked. I am greatly amused, actually. Of course she was. It took a bit of effort to convince Jennifer the bot to stand up, then I had to scrounge around on the floor for something she could wear. Sure, she had a sports bra on, but it really didn¡¯t work with the thigh-highs-and-nothing-else she was wearing below. The android might not have had a sense of dignity, but I did. Manic cackled at me while I tossed an over-large hoodie at the bot. ¡°Put this on, and let¡¯s go,¡± I said. ¡°Is it going to follow us?¡± Manic asked. ¡°We can hide her in a closet or something then fetch her on the way up,¡± I said. ¡°Not like she makes much noise.¡± ¡°I am trained in six million forms of sexual intercorse noises,¡± Jennifer informed us. ¡°I am a top of the line Boston Statics life-partner android.¡± ¡°Six million?¡± Manic asked. Jennifer nodded. ¡°From breathy, seductive moans, to realistic animal sounds.¡± ¡°Nevermind,¡± Manic said. We started down the corridor. I took point and Manic walked next to Jennifer, her bass cannon pointed at the ceiling. ¡°So, what were you working on there? You said it was erotica?¡± ¡°Yes. My master has me write erotica. Since I am not a legal entity, I can write materials of dubious legal quality without being penalised. That was the task I was set on before my master left seventy-six hours ago.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fucked up,¡± I muttered. ¡°Couldn¡¯t an AI just generate a few million words of that kind of stuff in an instant?¡± I asked. ¡°Most modern writing platforms check to ensure that all writing comes with accompanying keystrokes. It needs to be entered manually with a slight variance in speed and writing tempo.¡± ¡°So... you¡¯re cheating?¡± I asked. ¡°I wasn¡¯t programmed to care about that.¡± I shot the sexdroid a look. ¡°You¡¯re candid about it.¡± ¡°I was programmed to be a good conversationalist.¡± She turned and locked eyes with me. ¡°How are you feeling today?¡± ¡°Yeah, no,¡± I said, nixing that entire conversation right there. Lucy would be so mad at me if I had an in-depth conversation with a sex bot instead of her. ¡°Just keep quiet, please, we don¡¯t need to alert the aliens that we¡¯re here.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± She murmured. ¡°You think her being quiet will be enough?¡± Manic asked. I shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe? She¡¯s not... fleshy, so they probably won¡¯t find her from the smell or whatever.¡± ¡°She¡¯s wearing a sweat-stained hoodie and while I haven¡¯t given her a sniff, I bet she smells like latex and bad sex,¡± Manic complained. I shrugged some more. ¡°Spritz her with some deodorant if you care so much about the smell.¡± We made it to the stairs, and as I predicted, there were aliens climbing up from below. A few were missing some bits, and I could hear the ¡®thump-thump¡¯ of Manic¡¯s bass turret going off echoing in the stairwell. ¡°Right, drones, go check for survivors,¡± I said with a gesture and the trio of cat drones I¡¯d ordered up ran past me on silent paws. ¡°And we¡¯re heading down,¡± I said for Jennifer¡¯s benefit. I barely made it five steps before I had to open up on a model three scurrying up the stairs. Soon, Manic was next to me, the wider spray of her bass cannon coming in handy in the tight confines of the stairs. I tossed a resonator down, less to kill the aliens and more to turn them into slush so that we wouldn¡¯t end up tripping over a corpse on the way down. The further down we went, the more aliens started to pour into the stairwell. ¡°Shit,¡± Manic said. ¡°My turret¡¯s down.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°Well, that¡¯s something. Any idea what got it?¡± ¡°Just some little ones,¡± she said. ¡°But enough of them did it.¡± The advantage of a swarm, I supposed. By the time we made it back to the ground floor, I had alien guts staining the front of my armour and had had to reload twice. Jennifer was still following us, her stockings squishing with every step. ¡°It¡¯s nice to get out of the house,¡± she said. *** Chapter Forty-Five - Uncanny Chapter Forty-Five - Uncanny ¡°The Uncanny Valley is a primitive warning system. It tells you that something is wrong, incorrect, or fake. It often triggers on mannequins and dolls and even some forms of art. Interestingly, it is something that you can grow accustomed to. Most people aren¡¯t going to be fearful of a person with facial augmentations, for example. The antithesis almost always triggers an uncanny-valley response in people who see them in the flesh for the first time. We don¡¯t know why.¡± --Soma Psychologica, 2049 *** I looked at Jennifer who stood rather awkwardly next to a mop and bucket and next to a floor-cleaning robot-charging station. She was bent to the side a little to avoid brushing her head against the shelves of cleaning products at about forehead height. ¡°Comfy?¡± I asked. ¡°I have been in more constricting positions before,¡± the sex bot confirmed. That was good enough for me. ¡°Alright. You, uh, stay in here and stay quiet. I¡¯m sure the smell of cleaning stuff will keep the aliens at bay,¡± I said with a gesture to the floor behind me. It was covered in about thirty alien¡¯s worth of shredded flesh and several dozen litres of blood. I couldn¡¯t get a good whiff of the air--probably for the best--with my mask on, but I imagined it was quite pungent. Fortunately, Jennifer didn¡¯t have olfactory glands. Or I hoped for her sake that she didn¡¯t. ¡°Right... stay safe,¡± I said before clicking the door shut and turning around. Manic had a foot atop a model three¡¯s head and was rolling it from side to side as if inspecting it. ¡°Never really got a good look at these guys,¡± she said as I walked over. ¡°Really?¡± I asked. ¡°I mean, I¡¯ve seen them on TV and in warnings and the like, but seeing one in person¡¯s different. Like listening to a recording and being at the show, you know?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t help that most of the signs for these guys are cartoony.¡± The model three was an ugly bastard, even missing a couple of limbs and flopped onto the ground like a sack of potatoes, it still managed to be kind of scary in a sort of primal... wrong way. There was something about a lot of the antithesis that didn¡¯t click with my monkey brain. I think it might have been some sort of uncanny-valley effect. It had flesh that looked clearly plant-like, but not, and the proportions were just entirely wrong. Things from Earth had... maybe not a common blueprint, but most animals followed a more or less similar look when it came to their proportions, and the antithesis didn¡¯t. The head was too flat, the mouth with its three hinges was off, and... yeah, it wasn¡¯t right. ¡°We¡¯ve got to rig the place to blow,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d like to get that done with, then we can head back to the city. It¡¯s getting to be late, and I want to be back before it starts getting dark.¡± ¡°Scared of the dark?¡± ¡°Huh? No? I¡¯m a stealth specialist, and I¡¯m cat-themed, do you think I¡¯d be afraid of the dark? Nah, just don¡¯t want to be caught out in the open at night. Plus, when shit goes wrong, in my experience, it always tends to go wrong in the worst way around morning, noon, and just as the sun¡¯s setting.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± Manic said. She cracked her neck left and right, then stood a little straighter. ¡°Let¡¯s get going then.¡± I lead the way again. We¡¯d cleared out the aliens coming from the basement until all that was left of them were these bodies splattered across the floor, but I imagined there would be more once we got down. The basement access was just another stairwell past a smashed door marked ¡®Employees Only.¡¯ The antithesis hadn¡¯t destroyed the entire floor to get down this time, which was nice. It meant we got to use stairs. Less fun was the model four that came hurtling down from above, tentacles already lashing out towards me. I threw myself back and onto the floor, my laser pointer coming up at the same time even as I squeezed the trigger. The alien fell onto a barrage of lead that tore apart its tentacles and bit into its main body. Puffs of gas escaped it, but that didn¡¯t stop its fall. Then Manic fired and the alien¡¯s entire body was rammed across the stairwell and into the far wall where it crashed with a wallop. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I stared at the ceiling some more, checked the corners for more ambushers, then groaned and rolled onto my front to stand. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. ¡°Where the hell did that come from?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Ceiling. Forgot to check my corners,¡± I admitted. ¡°They¡¯re quiet when they wanna be. Hey, you¡¯re wearing a gas mask, right?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± she said. ¡°Good. Those ones give off this gas that¡¯ll make you paranoid. Freaky fucks,¡± I said. I checked my gun, noting that I¡¯d chewed through the last of my ammo. ¡°Myalis, reload.¡± While my gun reloaded, I moved in a little slower, head on a swivel as I checked every shadow for another ambusher. Unlike the last building I¡¯d hit, where the aliens never noticed me, this time we¡¯d gone in loud. They knew we were coming. ¡°Fucking tentacles,¡± Manic said. ¡°Nah,¡± I replied. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯d actually go all hentai on you. I mean, they might, but it¡¯s not sexual.¡± ¡°Oh, great, that¡¯ll make it feel so much better,¡± Manic said. I snorted. ¡°Just shoot them first,¡± I advised. ¡°I think they¡¯re the model I like the least, and that¡¯s saying something. The bad-touch model.¡± I had to agree, but more because they were a little too close to my own fighting style than because of the tentacles. I spotted another one of them hanging off the ceiling halfway down the flight of stairs and around two corners. ¡°Cute,¡± I said as I took my time to aim and then triple-tapped it in the chest. It crashed to the ground, then I put another pair of rounds into its side just to be safe. I stepped over the corpse and continued on down the stairs until they ended at a doorway that was surprisingly still in place. There was a window at head-height, and the door was left ajar. From the looks of it, something had kicked it in and in the battle between the door and its frame, the door won. I leaned against the wall on the far side of the door and peeked through while activating all the low-light gizmos on my helmet. The basement had the aforementioned pool in it down the end of a wide corridor and behind a pair of broken glass doors. There were changing rooms to the sides, and the corridor forked off to the right. I couldn¡¯t see what was down that way from my angle. ¡°A god-damn pool,¡± I muttered. ¡°We should get a pool.¡± You have one. ¡°The inflatable kiddie pool doesn¡¯t count,¡± I said. I wanted a proper pool, like rich people had. Maybe hanging off the side of our home, with one of those glass bottoms and a big deck? I didn¡¯t like swimming... or know how to swim well, but I did love the idea of Lucy in swimsuits. ¡°Is it clear?¡± Manic asked. I jumped, pushed aside my daydreams, then glanced down the passage again. There were stains on the ground and several doors were broken in, but no big signs of alien life. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said as I opened the door slowly. I glanced up, then checked the corners as best I could. ¡°We¡¯re clear. ¡°Then where the hell did all the aliens come from?¡± Manic asked. The corridors were pretty wide, so it wouldn¡¯t be too hard for any of the bigger ones to get past, I figured. Judging from the marks left behind, it looked like they mostly went towards the pool. ¡°That way, at a guess,¡± I said as I pointed forwards. ¡°Give me a sec, I¡¯m gonna start planting bombs right now.¡± I ordered up a number of good old explosives, and also a few of those acid-mist sprayers. It was worth the cost, I figured, to melt everything behind us. It would make it that much less likely that the antithesis would survive and regrow down here. We checked down the long corridor to the right, but it seemed to lead off towards more community rooms. They had a mini-theater, and a VR-sports room. Fancy, unnecessary shit that I bet rarely got used. Manic and I checked every room in the corridor leading up to the pool, and we found a few model fours waiting around for us in there. For all their size and stealthiness, they weren¡¯t much of a threat when we were expecting them. Then, at last, we reached the pool. It had been drained of water. Not by a hole or anything, but by the massive bulbous hive growing out of the far end of it, with long tendrils reaching into the water and greedily sucking it up to feed the sacs hanging off the rest of the hive. ¡°Well, there it is,¡± I said. *** Chapter Forty-Six - Monster Interrupt Chapter Forty-Six - Monster Interrupt ¡°Verified-User Deus Ex:Yeah, nah, the worst hives are the ones in places you can¡¯t get to. Like sure, hives in cities suck, but they¡¯re at least visible, you know? You can tell aliens apart from human-made shit easily. Now hives out in the desert, or underground, or god forbid, underwater? Fuck that. User; Find-El: Omg, who asked?¡± Verified-User Deus Ex: ... I know where you live.¡± -WriteIt Live, Deus Ex FAQ, 2055 *** ¡°Alright,¡± I said as I tossed a bomb up and down one-handed. ¡°Here¡¯s the plan. We toss bombs all over, then get the fuck out before shit goes down.¡± Manic huffed. ¡°What a plan,¡± she said. ¡°I like them simple,¡± I said. The pulsating mass of antithesis flesh ahead of us gurgled and we both stared as some of the sacs burst open and disgorged half a dozen model threes onto the tiled floor. One of them slipped near the edge of the pool and fell in with a splash, its body writhing as the acids at the bottom started to eat it. ¡°Okay,¡± Manic said. ¡°Simple¡¯s alright.¡± I should warn you, there¡¯s a good chance that this small hive isn¡¯t the only one in the basement. ¡°Crap,¡± I swore. ¡°Manic, blow those guys up, then toss this... this and this around,¡± I said as I placed a trio of bombs on the ground. The first was one of those acid sprayers, the second and third were more conventional explosives. ¡°These two go on those pillars next to the pool.¡± ¡°And why am I doing all the work?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Because I¡¯m gonna make sure the rest of the building comes down too.¡± I patted Manic on the shoulder. ¡°Scream if something happens.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± she said before scooping up the bombs and stuffing them into the pockets of her jacket. The freshly-birthed model threes were shaking themselves off of their sac goop and had started to notice us, so Manic was going to have a bit of fun ahead of her, but I figured she¡¯d be fine. Heading back down the corridor leading to the pool, I checked my gun¡¯s ammo count, then wondered if it was worth reloading when I still had over ninety-percent of a magazine left. Eh, it was probably fine. I didn¡¯t feel like wasting points just yet. I was doing alright for myself, but I noticed that as my gear improved and started to cost more, I made fewer points per kill. The curse of having better equipment was that it all cost more. I was still in the black though, so I couldn¡¯t complain too much. ¡°Myalis, can you get me a blueprint of this place? Maybe give me an idea of where to put the bombs?¡± Certainly. A map of the basement popped up in my augs. It was isometric, made entirely of pixel art, and featured little pixel bombs (in the style of those round cannon balls with the little fuse sticking out the top) where I needed to place explosives. Manic¡¯s position was replaced by a tiny rocker-girl figure, and my location was a pixel-art cat, its back leg pointing to the heavens as it cleaned itself. ¡°For fuck¡¯s...¡± I started, then stopped. It was still a functional map, all the jokes aside. The first bomb placement was right by the intersection ahead. Turned out that one of those walls was load-bearing or something. I slapped a bomb onto them, then checked the map again. The basement was more or less square, with a big chunk of it taken up by the swimming pool. The rest though was a sort of L-shape with small rooms sticking out from the sides. The map didn¡¯t label them, but I imagined they were mostly more community rooms or whatever. I pretty much just had to place bombs at all four corners, and that would be enough to bring everything down. So, of course, the moment I was in the main corridor and approaching the intersection I heard scrambling from around the bend. I shouldered my Laser Pointer and went wide so that I¡¯d see the most corridor possible as I came around. The first beastie I saw was a lone model three who gratefully ate a few rounds to the face. Then I found more aliens waiting for me and opened up properly. I was expecting to kill a dozen or so, maybe a couple of bigger models. But they kept coming. Soon my shoulder-mounted railguns were out and spitting fire into what felt like a deluge of aliens coming around the corner. ¡°What the hell,¡± I said as I lowered my gun for it to reload while taking a few steps back. ¡°Myalis, what¡¯s going on down here?¡± This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.It seems as if this area is connected to a larger hive, perhaps? I can¡¯t see around corners, I¡¯m afraid. I grunted, and as soon as my gun was reloaded, pushed forwards. With a decent sight and some practice, taking down the aliens became less of a fight and more... point-and-click adventures in xeno genocide. The hallway on the other side was filled with aliens. They were backed up all the way to the end of the corridor where a gaping hole was missing from the wall. ¡°Which way is that?¡± I asked as I slid back around the corner for cover. That¡¯s pointing more or less straight towards the shore. It might be where the underwater hives are feeding into the city. And those wouldn¡¯t be affected by our nanomachine plague. I swore some more. ¡°Acid bomb,¡± I ordered up. I caught a bomb as it appeared over my hand, pulled the tab, then flung it hard around the corner. It went off with a hiss, and after a few stragglers came around, the number of aliens decreased. I poked my head around and could make out dozens more through a thin orangey fog that was obscuring everything and melting any alien that got caught in it. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not going over there, through that, to place a bomb.¡± Maybe you should have considered that before filling the corridor with deadly acid? ¡°Meh,¡± I said. ¡°If we can¡¯t put a bomb on the support, we just need a bigger bomb here, right?¡± I asked. Myalis sighed into my ears, but then a large box appeared by my feet with a heavy thunk. It was a bomb. A large one. With little wires behind a glass case and big bundles of plastic explosives with metal rods in them. ¡°Classy,¡± I said. I do try. The other option is a rocket launcher. I paused. You want to try the rocket launcher? ¡°Well, now that I know it¡¯s an option,¡± I said. I pushed the big bomb back towards the wall with a foot. It wasn¡¯t like it would go to waste, then I giggled and rubbed my hands together as Myalis summoned up a box that was half as long as I was tall. Kicking it open revealed a long tube and a single very obvious rocket right under that with a metal rod on one end and a very obvious rocket head on the other. The words SINGLE USE. POINT THAT WAY => were painted on the side of the launcher. I picked it up, slid the rocket into the end, then spun around the corner and took a knee. There was a handle with a big old trigger on it, and a little glass sighting thing that I used to aim the rocket down the corridor. A corridor now nearly entirely filled by a single, massive alien that was charging down through half-melted corpses without a care in the world. ¡°Ah, shit,¡± I said before I fired. The rocket screamed forwards and rammed the alien in the face, then it dug in and sputtered out. ¡°Ah, shit shit,¡± I said as the alien continued to charge. That was a model eighteen, and I had no idea how it was fitting into the corridor. That rocket was supposed to be detonated from range. It¡¯s packing a rather powerful explosive warhead, to compensate for the fact that you¡¯d likely miss the section of wall you were supposed to aim for. ¡°Okay, and?¡± I asked as I ran. The model eighteen is carrying it back towards you. Right, that was a problem. I pulled out a couple of grenades from my belt, tugged the pins out, then flung them behind me. Hopefully they¡¯d gain me a few seconds. Then the model eighteen barreled around the corner and rammed into the far wall while its trunk-sized legs scrambled for purchase. ¡°Manic!¡± I called out ahead. ¡°Manic, we¡¯re leaving now!¡± Manic popped up at the T-junction ahead, looked at me, then past me to the big alien on my ass, and then she did the smart thing and darted into the stairwell. I followed after her, shoulder checking the door out of the way as I barged in. She was already halfway up the stairs. ¡°Hurry up!¡± she said. ¡°You don¡¯t need to tell me twice,¡± I said. I flung more grenades behind me. Resonators, adhesive grenades, garrots, whatever would slow the big bastard down without setting off the bomb lodged in its face. We burst out onto the ground floor, then took off through the building even as the linoleum cracked and the model eighteen started to ram its way up from below. ¡°Jennifer!¡± I shouted as I got to the maintenance closet and tore the door open. ¡°Hello,¡± the sexbot said. I grabbed it by the wrist and ran. ¡°Move!¡± *** Stray Cat Strut - Volume Three is Out! Hey! SCS'' third volume is out today! If you''ve made it this far into the story, then you''ve probably read volume three already! Still, I felt I should point out its release! It''s out in paperback, ebook, and on audible as an audiobook!

In the megacity of New Montreal, those with wealth and power live in towers high above the teeming masses struggling to get by day after day. When the poor and destitute vanish, the police can¡¯t be bothered to spend time and resources investigating. But Franny, a nun who isn¡¯t afraid to practice what her religion preaches, sets out to find the missing by confronting street gangs with nothing but a baseball bat . . . and a lot of pent-up frustration. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Afraid for Franny¡¯s safety, pyrotechnic nun-samurai Gomorrah recruits Catherine ¡°Cat¡± LeBlanc to protect her zealous friend and get to the bottom of the mysterious mass disappearances. And get to the bottom is exactly what Cat must do when she discovers the gang known as the Sewer Dragons has been abducting people into their underworld. Within the cavernous channels that spread below the entirety of the city, the Dragons have created their own society of towns and nations. Their bodies have been augmented to withstand the poisonous toxins of waste so they can work cleaning out sewers and ensuring New Montreal has fresh water. In return, the city authorities leave the Dragons alone. But Cat isn¡¯t willing to sacrifice people, simply because they lack money, just to keep the plumbing on. And when she, Gomorrah, and Franny descend into the Dragons¡¯ lair, they¡¯ll uncover the horrific truth behind the kidnappings¡ªand be led into battle with not only sewer-dwelling cyborgs but also the dirtiest of politicians . . .

Chapter Forty-Seven - Cover Chapter Forty-Seven - Cover ¡°We don¡¯t usually think of plants, with a few exceptions, as having day or night cycles, but the sunflower is a beautiful example of a plant that lives and thrives by sunlight!¡± --Flowers and You! 2014 (Pre-Antithesis) Edition *** I ran out of the front of the building like a cat whose tail caught fire, dragging Jennifer the sexbot behind me and following on Manic¡¯s rear as the older woman ran flat out. She only slowed down a little bit to fire her bass cannon at a few lingering aliens, warding them off enough for us to keep moving right across the middle of the intersection. Behind us, I heard the building¡¯s floor cave outwards as the model eighteen ripped after us. I shot a glance over my shoulder, then noticed with dismay that despite a lot of slices across its toughened skin and a lot of very sticky goop stuck to it, the alien was still coming, and it still had that rocket jutting out of its face like the world¡¯s lamest unicorn horn. ¡°Get to cover!¡± I shouted. Manic leapt over a cement guardrail and I jumped after her. Jennifer flopped right after me, her legs clanking against the cement edge in a way that made me glad that she probably didn¡¯t have nerve endings. ¡°Ow,¡± she intoned. ¡°Farther!¡± I said as I shot past. My shoulder mounted guns fired a few rounds at stray aliens, and I kept moving towards the nearest bit of cover I could see. A large bus, toppled onto its side near the far end of the intersection. I was panting by the time I made it to the bus and flung Jennifer around it. Then I turned and checked on Manic, but she was only a step or two behind. The model eighteen was in the process of ripping its way out of the front of the building. ¡°What now?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Boom,¡± I said. I pulled the trigger on the detonator, and instantly regretted not being behind cover myself as a bomb designed to take out the structure of a large building went off less than a hundred metres away. I was thrown back onto my ass and the entire bus scraped along the ground while Manic stumbled away from it. The model eighteen was thrown back into the building, the blast originating from its face doing a number on it. Once the echoing retort of the bomb¡¯s detonation faded away, I sat up, then looked around. The explosion had ripped a crater into the side of the apartment building¡¯s entrance, though there was now so much dust and smoke that it was hard to tell what was going on behind the smoke. ¡°I think that did it,¡± I said. We could get behind some more appropriate cover for the full detonation. We were very much in danger-close when it came to taking down an entire building, and I¡¯d much rather be further out, especially since I suspected that this detonation wouldn¡¯t be one of those nice, tight ones where everything just collapsed straight down. ¡°You think?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t get a kill confirmation,¡± Manic said. ¡°Ah... fuck,¡± I said. Glass and stone were tossed aside by the entrance and a model eighteen without a head started to claw its way out of the debris covering it. ¡°Okay, well fuck it then,¡± I said as I kipped up to my feet and grabbed Jennifer¡¯s hand again. ¡°Come on!¡± I shouted. There were no protests as I led our party of three across the street and into the nearest building, this one as a sort of bank with a nice open lobby. I spotted the counters at the far end, with their bullet-proof glass and heavy reinforcements, then fired my railguns into one of the smaller glass panels, shattering it instantly. Manic jumped in ahead of me just as what I imagined was a battery-powered automated security system went off with a screaming whine. Then I grabbed Jennifer by the hips and tossed her up onto the counter. ¡°Go!¡± I said. She went over, then crouched down on the other side where I soon joined her. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Boom,¡± I said. ¡°You just did that one!¡± ¡°It¡¯s my only good trick!¡± I shot back. Then I detonated the bombs in the basement of the building across the street. Whatever protests Manic had about my planning abilities were entirely drowned out by the earth rumbling underfoot and a few thousand kilos of loose dust ramming themselves into the lobby. Pebbles clattered against bulletproof glass, and what few exterior windows weren¡¯t broken yet shattered. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I winced and covered my head as the explosion just continued and continued, a terrible roar so loud that any one individual sound was entirely drowned out in all of it. Eventually it did stop, and then I had to wipe a thin layer of dust off my visor to be able to see anything. Jennifer was now covered in whitish dust and was blinking rapidly, and Manic wasn¡¯t much better. ¡°Wow,¡± she said. ¡°That was loud, even for me.¡± ¡°Heh,¡± I said. ¡°Did that work?¡± ¡°That was a model eighteen?¡± she asked. ¡°One confirmed kill there.¡± I glanced over the counter top. Somehow a large chunk of cement had ended up in the lobby, about as big as one of those mini cars with several metres of rebar sticking out the back. ¡°Yeah, that did it,¡± I said. ¡°I think we¡¯re going to need to head back though.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t feel like blowing up more buildings?¡± ¡°I like it better when I can actually see the explosion. Being this close to it is a thrill, but it¡¯s not as fun,¡± I admitted. Manic shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re not entirely sane.¡± ¡°I think that¡¯s a requirement for the job,¡± I said as I got up fully. ¡°But yeah, there was a fuck-huge tunnel under the building leading towards the lake. I think the antithesis are using it to feed more aliens into the city. We might have blocked that one off, but I bet there¡¯s more.¡± ¡°So, why not stay out here and plug the gaps.¡± ¡°That¡¯s like shoving your fingers in the hole at the bottom of the boat while a dozen more pop up,¡± I said. Manic stared. ¡°Is that cartoon logic?¡± ¡°I learned everything I know from cartoons.¡± I believe you¡¯re correct. The tunnel you saw was likely only one branch of a larger tunnel system. If you want to stop the arrival of more antithesis from those tunnels, you¡¯ll either have to plug each one, or go to their starting point and destroy the hive feeding them. I nodded along, then checked on Jennifer. ¡°You okay?¡± I asked. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of dust in the air.¡± ¡°I am fine,¡± the bot said. ¡°I don¡¯t need to breathe, just to breed... forgive me, that is a pre-programmed line.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. I¡¯d be using that one around Lucy next time she got in a choke-y mood. ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s head back? Unless you want to stick around here, Manic?¡± ¡°Nah,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m starving.¡± That was a fair enough reason to head back, I guessed. Maybe I could use a snack myself. I took a moment to check on a map of the city--newly updated to remove two buildings from Burrlington¡¯s skyline--and reoriented myself towards Downtown. We were about six blocks away, which meant that they sure as hell would have noticed a building or two disappearing. I¡¯d probably done a lot to terrify the locals, actually. I hoped we wouldn¡¯t encounter too many people whose homes we just knocked down, because I was ready for a lot, but not some kind of awkward ¡®you blew up my home¡¯ conversation. As we stepped out, I glanced up and noticed that the sky was darkening a little behind the ever present pall of thick clouds above. It wasn¡¯t night yet, but it was getting to be late in the afternoon. ¡°When does the sun set today?¡± I asked. ¡°Around eight,¡± Manic said. I glanced at her, and she shrugged. ¡°My clock app tells me when the sun rises and sets. I¡¯m usually a bit of a night owl.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t sleep?¡± I asked. ¡°Everyone knows the best rocking¡¯s done at night.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it,¡± I said. There might have been a time when the night was the place for less scrupulous people, but I had the impression that time was past. Back in New Montreal, at least, we relied a lot more on artificial light for stuff than we did sunlight, and that made the difference between night and day more of an academic one. Out here though, in this little town, the difference was... well, night and day. Less light pollution, less infrastructure. Once night fell, it was going to get dark for real, and I had a strong suspicion that the antithesis wouldn¡¯t let us get away with a solid eight hours of peaceful sleep. *** Chapter Forty-Eight - A Time for Explanations Chapter Forty-Eight - A Time for Explanations ¡°We need something better to really sell our new fall 2047 collection. Chanel¡¯s Water Number 7 is coming out soon, and Louis Vutton is pushing out a new flavour with a new bottle and everything. If we don¡¯t step up our game, we¡¯re going to start losing shares. We¡¯re only the fifth best designer water brand in the NA region, we can¡¯t afford to fall back any further.¡± --Interior Guucci Memo from head of Designer Water Production to head of Marketing, 2047 *** Manic, Jennifer and I walked back towards the front lines of our defences. I figured we probably made something of a weird show. Manic in her leather coat and new-samurai armour, me in my slightly better gear, then Jennifer in nothing but a hoodie. The sun was setting quickly, with the buildings shrouding us in deep shadows, at least until we turned a corner and came face-to-face with one of the fires Gomorrah had lit. It was currently chewing its way up an apartment building, but fortunately, the fire didn¡¯t seem to be burning through everything. Some buildings were a little more robust, made of nothing but cement and glass and the fire didn¡¯t seem to catch onto them as easily. They¡¯d hopefully act as firebreaks, keeping it all away from Downtown and from spreading too far. They¡¯d also make any antithesis invasion a little bit harder, I imagined. We went around, in any case, avoiding the worst of the fire. I could probably walk through some of it without much issue, but Manic¡¯s gear wasn¡¯t as fire proof and Jennifer risked melting her latex ass right off if we tried. So it took a little longer to reach the makeshift barricade, but we made it there eventually. We found a few alien corpses dotting the roadside, and as I squinted I was able to make out a couple of militia folk up on the wall next to a few of Lucy¡¯s kittens in their jumpsuits and cat ears. ¡°Hey!¡± I called out. ¡°Got a place we can come in through?¡± As it turned out, they didn¡¯t, but what they did have was a ladder they could sling over the side to make it easier to climb our way up. Jennifer went first, since we didn¡¯t want to leave her undefended on the ground, then I followed after her and kept my head down on the rungs ahead of me, because she was just wearing a hoodie and Lucy would kill me for staring. Once all three of us were up, the kittens and militia pulled the ladder back up. ¡°Anything to report?¡± I asked one of the nearest militia guys. He froze up for a moment, then shook his head. ¡°No, sir,¡± he said. ¡°Nothing much going on here. Just a few stragglers.¡± He gestured down the street, towards the corpses dotting the road. ¡°Uh, alright then,¡± I said. A few random, low-tier aliens was fine. In fact, that was pretty much the best we could hope for. We could hold out for days if all we were dealing with was the occasional lost alien. I had the impression we¡¯d be dealing with a lot more than just that soon, though. ¡°Keep an eye open for more trouble,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s some bigger fuckers hanging out there, and they might pop around for a visit.¡± He snapped a salute, and I went and climbed down the other side of the wall with Manic and Jennifer following after me. ¡°What now?¡¯ Manic asked. ¡°Depends, what do you want to do?¡± ¡°Me?¡± she asked. ¡°Grab a bite, maybe an hour of shut-eye. If you think the real show will start tonight, then I¡¯ll want a bit of sleep before it really gets down to it. I can rock on with nothing but beer and energy drinks in my veins like the best of them, but there¡¯s nothing like a nap to keep you going for even longer.¡± I nodded along. ¡°Right, let¡¯s head over to the mall. You can get both there. And I¡¯ll leave Jennifer there too, maybe you can find your, ah, owner, right?¡± That felt like such a strange thing to say to someone who looked so human. Maybe I¡¯d leave her with Lucy, she might think it was funny. We hitched a ride on a bus that was doing transport duty between the centre of downtown and the walls. It looked like Lucy was busy moving her volunteers towards the edges of the city where they¡¯d be able to do a bit more to help. While we found seats near the front of the bus, I dialled up Intel-chan. ¡°Hey,¡± I said as a familiar weeb-y avatar popped up in my augs. Intel-chan was now wearing a fake--insofar as anything on a digital avatar could be fake--pair of cat ears atop her head, but otherwise they looked the same as ever. ¡°Hello! You¡¯re back.¡± Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said as I crossed my arms and leaned back. ¡°Any news?¡± ¡°Plenty. You were gone for nearly three hours, which is forever. We had a small rebellion in the militia instigated by the Major who was fourth-in-command. He disagreed with the general on a few points and tried to depose him. That failed though. Fortunately, he wasn¡¯t very popular. The fires Gomorrah-dono started began slipping into downtown, but we were able to put them out. The kittens started a zombie eradication campaign near the south end of the city. It pissed off a lot of people until Lucy-sama started posting helmet-cam videos of the zombie exterminators breaking into apartments and finding zombified people within.¡± ¡°Fuck,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s being handled. Lucy-sama has a gift for PR. Ah, what else... oh, Gomorrah-dono burnt down three mansions in River Heights. The citizens there are a lot more cooperative now!¡± That was... good? Yeah, I decided that that was good and I wouldn¡¯t think about it too much. ¡°Are they done evacuating then?¡± I asked. ¡°There¡¯s an over-land convoy of people and supplies being brought into Downtown from River Heights. A lot of the equipment there is too heavy to be moved by hovercar, so we¡¯re bringing it back the old fashioned way. The road is being secured. It has been attacked a few times, but the militia fought the antithesis off already.¡± I nodded along. ¡°Ping me if there¡¯s anything that goes super wrong,¡± I said. ¡°Sure thing! Nice to have you back, boss. By the way, did you take down those buildings?¡± ¡°There were hives under them,¡± I said. Intel-chan didn¡¯t seem to care either way, and the bus came to a stop before they could add much. ¡°Say hi to Lucy-sama for me!¡± Intel-chan said before the line went off. I hopped out of the bus, suddenly very much aware of how tired I was, and how dry my mouth had gone. What was the last time I drank something? An hour or so before heading out with Manic? If I was going to be staying up all night, then maybe I¡¯d need a nap too, and something to eat and drink. The mall was quieter now than it had been earlier in the day. There were still a few kittens lingering by the entrance, but with fewer people around it seemed rather perfunctory. I checked my map, and found that Lucy¡¯s tag was real close. She was on the second floor again, around the space that she¡¯d taken over as her base of operations. ¡°Want to split up here?¡± I asked Manic as we slipped into the mall. There were fewer people, sure, but that didn¡¯t mean it was empty, and we both earned ourselves a lot of looks from those who remained. I caught a few eyes glowing with the tell-tale sign that their augs were filming us. ¡°Is the food court even still open?¡± Manic asked. I shrugged. Half the places were automated most of the time, so there was a chance that it was. Still... ¡°Well, whatever. Come upstairs, you can meet Lucy. I bet she¡¯s got food around. She always liked keeping a few granola bars or something hidden away.¡± ¡°That¡¯s strange,¡± Manic said. ¡°Really?¡± I asked. I thought it was rather smart. If one of the kittens got hungry she could toss a bar out to keep them quiet. Plus it always made Lucy even more of a snack than usual. We rode up an escalator, and I glanced back at Jennifer who was still following after us. How was I going to explain her to Lucy? There was no way Lucy wouldn¡¯t notice what Jennifer was, and it didn¡¯t feel right to just tell Jennifer to piss off and find her owner all on her own. I decided I¡¯d just wing it and hope for the best. Then I saw Lucy working behind a row of hastily setup desks, directing a volunteer with looking at a tablet computer and back. She was pointing at something, a cute little frown showing her mild displeasure. ¡°Lucy!¡± I called out. Her head whipped up, and the frown disappeared into a brilliant smile. ¡°Cat!¡± she said. Then she was stumbling around the desk to meet me with a hug. ¡°And you brought friends too!¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said as I returned the hug. It was too bad my arms were tangled up, or else I¡¯d be removing my helmet to capture her lips with mine. ¡°Uh, this is Manic, and that¡¯s Jennifer. We rescued Jennifer from the area outside of Downtown a while ago.¡± ¡°Pleased to meet ya,¡± Manic said. ¡°Hello,¡± Jennifer said. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re the other samurai from here,¡± Lucy said. ¡°And you¡¯re... a sex bot?¡± ¡°I can explain,¡± I said. *** Stray Cat Strut Fanfiction Contest Are you a fan of Stray Cat Strut? Have you ever wanted to try your hand at writing your own Stray Cat Strut story? Well, now is your chance! Introducing the SCS Fanfiction Contest! This month-long contest is designed to give aspiring writers the opportunity to showcase their skills and win big prizes. Here''s how it works:

Throughout the month of March, write a one-shot or the opening chapter of a Stray Cat Strut fanfic.
Submit your entry to us via DM, either on RR or on our Patreon.
Entries must be at least 1,000 words in length and must clearly be a Stray Cat Strut fanwork. While there''s no upper limit, keep in mind that not everyone wants to read 10K to judge it, so be sensible!
Plagiarism will not be tolerated and will result in disqualification.
While AI assistance is not strictly against the rules, we encourage you to write your story to the best of your ability without relying too heavily on AI tools.
The winner will receive a cash prize of $1,000USD and have their fanfic posted after Stray Cat Strut''s next chapter for all to see!

But that''s not all! To ensure a fair competition, we have a few rules and stipulations that all participants must adhere to: Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

Participants must have access to PayPal for fund transfers in case of victory.
Participants must be at least 18 years of age or the legal age of majority in their jurisdiction of residence.
Your story must take place in the Stray Cat Strut universe or use SCS'' cast of characters. Feel free to self-insert or create your own unique samurai OC!
No lewds!
The winning entry will be subject to editing before being posted.
Judging will be based on creativity, originality, and adherence to the Stray Cat Strut universe. So what are you waiting for? Get writing and show us what you''ve got!
Voting will open on April 2nd, 2023 and close on April 9th. All submissions must be handed in before the 31st of March, 2023.

By submitting your entry to the SCS Fanfiction Contest, you acknowledge that the submitted work is your own original creation and that you grant us the right to use and publish your entry. Any entries found to be plagiarised will be disqualified. Use of AI is (ironically) frowned upon. Good luck, samurai! Chapter Forty-Nine - Back Stage Story Chapter Forty-Nine - Back Stage Story ¡°The Hug series was a complete fluke. So, we had this series the, ah, I think they were called the G-13s? They were these sexbots that looked like... anyway, so there¡¯s this law that passed that made making bots that looked like they¡¯re not adult-appearing illegal, so we just had this whole warehouse full of these, right. We stripped them of the valuable parts, but the chassis and control units were all still there. So then one of our techies is like... why not turn them into something else? Within two weeks, the warehouse was empty and we had six thousand Hug Bot Ones on backorder. It was nuts!¡± --Interview with Jim Jimerson, CFO of General Stability, 2045 *** ¡°Come on, we can make ourselves a bit comfier inside,¡± Lucy said with a thumb pointed over her shoulder. I followed her into the store that she¡¯d apparently continued to remodel into a small headquarters while I was gone. There were more tables up, with stations along one side with a jumbled mix of laptops and VR stations. A small armoury had sprouted up as well, a place for people to hang guns and gear onto repurposed clothing racks. The wall between the store Lucy took over and the next one over had been ripped apart, and we walked through to find the other side turned into a more private break room, the walls covered in discount carpets nailed to the ceiling and taped onto the windows to make the place a little darker and cozier. Folk in the official kitten uniform (a pair of what looked like 3d-printed cat ears) were taking breaks next to water coolers, and they had a small eating area set up. ¡°My office is at the back, way over there,¡± Lucy said with a careless gesture. ¡°But I never really use it.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. ¡°This is... a lot to set up in one day.¡± ¡°Nah, this wasn¡¯t too hard. I have my pick of good people to choose from here. Lots of folk want to help. Even more people want to not feel useless. I just had to sort through, find some people that had the right skills, then sort through those until I found people that were also passionate and smart. Then the rest was easy.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. ¡°Smart, passionate people are usually stuck in their own little areas, I think,¡± Lucy said. She tapped her chin, which she always did when philosophising. ¡°I think that a lot of the smartest, most passionate people want to do a lot of things, but they don¡¯t have a choice in what they do. They need jobs, they need to work to get food and a place to stay. So their smarts poof away and their passion dies out. But hey! This city is a disaster right now, so no one¡¯s got a job anymore, and that means those same people can actually be of use!¡± I noticed Manic nodding along next to me. ¡°You get it,¡± she said. ¡°Met plenty of incredible artists in my day. Most of them give up. You can¡¯t eat inspiration and you can¡¯t live with nothing to keep you warm but passion, not for long. Sucks, but that¡¯s the world we live in.¡± ¡°What about you?¡± I asked. She shrugged. ¡°I followed my passions and rocked out when inspired. Got lucky a lot, enough to keep clothes on my back and food in my stomach, but I think I always knew it wouldn¡¯t work out forever. I... guess that¡¯s changed a little, now.¡± ¡°I guess so,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe you can use some of those points you earned today to help other musicians?¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯re a musician?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°That¡¯s hot! I¡¯ve always told Cat to learn how to play the guitar so that she can serenade me.¡± ¡°I literally only had one arm,¡± I said. ¡°Ah, but your fingering technique is so good,¡± Lucy purred. I turned my head away, then remembered that I still had a helmet on, no one could see my blushing. Lucy, of course, knew anyway. ¡°So, hungry?¡± Lucy asked with a glance at Manic. ¡°I am. How¡¯d you know?¡± ¡°Magic,¡± Lucy said with a wink. ¡°I¡¯ll get the cook to prep something for us real quick. How about you sit back and maybe get a guitar out? We don¡¯t have much by means of ambient music in here.¡± Manic shrugged, then walked over to an unoccupied table. Jennifer very notably didn¡¯t move from one step behind me. ¡°What are we going to do about you?¡± Lucy asked Jennifer. ¡°I don¡¯t think you can eat, can you?¡± ¡°Only if you¡¯re using eat as a euphemism,¡± Jennifer confirmed. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Right, no. I don¡¯t know if this is racist or something, but I¡¯m not really turned on by sex bots, I don¡¯t think. I like my sex a bit... fleshier. Although, I wonder where Mister Tentacles falls on that spectrum? I guess my preferences are less a hard rule and more a sliding-scale-of-bot-fucking, and you happen to fall outside the part of that scale I¡¯m comfortable with.¡± Lucy nodded, clearly pleased with herself. ¡°You mentioned a cook?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh, right,¡± Lucy jumped and spun, then headed out towards yet another blown-out wall. How big had they turned the Kitten¡¯s headquarters? ¡°So, he¡¯s more of a chef, really. Some Michelin Many-star place in town¡¯s main chef guy. I think he¡¯s actually enjoying working with canned trash food. It¡¯s like, a challenge or something. And it all comes out tasting pretty good.¡± ¡°You ate already?¡± I asked. ¡°Mhm, a bit ago. But I can spoon feed you while you catch me up and I do the same for you? You¡¯ve been out of the city for a few hours, yeah?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. We met the chef, who was busy behind a small office-divider with two others. They had camping stoves out, with pots full of boiling water and opened cans stacked up to one side. Lucy ordered a pair of ¡®whatever¡¯s ready soon¡¯ and then we were heading back the other way. ¡°What are your plans for Jennifer back there?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Ah, I found her in an abandoned apartment building. Didn¡¯t feel right to leave her behind. So I kind of kidnapped her. She probably has an owner somewhere. Decent odds that they¡¯re still alive, but I haven¡¯t made any effort to find them.¡± ¡°Well, Jennifer, if you need a job in the meantime, just let me know,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I am obligated to return to my master if at all possible.¡± ¡°And if you don¡¯t want to?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m not programmed to not want to,¡± Jennifer said. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a pickle,¡± Lucy said. ¡°There¡¯s no ¡®free will¡¯ mode you can activate?¡± ¡°They patched that out,¡± Jennifer said. I shook my head. This was delving into moral quandaries that I was entirely unready for. ¡°That¡¯s fucked up. Maybe Myalis can unpatch that for you? Uh, assuming your first free-will choice won¡¯t be to murder us all? Wait... Why did you want to keep her around in the first place?¡± ¡°I keep all the cute lost things you bring me, Cat, you know that,¡± Lucy said. She looked to Jennifer. ¡°So, want a job, or not? It¡¯s fine to say no, not like you take up much space.¡± ¡°I would like a job,¡± Jennifer said after a moment¡¯s pause. ¡°Nice,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Can you take notes for me? We¡¯ll get you dressed up in a nice pinstrike and one of those skirts secretaries wear. What are those called?¡± ¡°Pencil skirts?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah, those are the ones. I¡¯ll send someone to find something in your size, and you can stand next to me and be my eye candy while Cat¡¯s not around.¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°Speaking of, didn¡¯t I leave you with a few guard cats?¡± ¡°They¡¯re in stealth mode,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Intimidating people is cool, but being intimidating tends to only work on the people I need to approach me, and those I need to scare off are a lot more ready for trouble.¡± The chef called out to us, then sent someone running over with a tray that had a dozen little plates on it. He¡¯d cooked up what looked like tiny portions of rice and beans, with some sort of fish looking thing on top. The proportions were all tiny, but there were a lot of little plates. ¡°Come on, you can tell me what you were up to. I heard through the grapevine that you blew up a couple of buildings?¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s where I found Jennifer. Before the blowing up happened. Turns out there¡¯s a long tunnel from the edge of downtown all the way to the lake. So we¡¯re going to have to deal with that soon.¡± ¡°Think they¡¯ll continue to come?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°As long as we¡¯re a threat, yeah,¡± I said. ¡°And I think the aliens think that anything that¡¯s tasty and which doesn¡¯t immediately jump into their stomachs is a threat. I think tonight¡¯s either going to be real quiet, or the exact opposite.¡± I stifled a yawn. I hadn¡¯t quite realized it, but I was getting tired. How long had I been up for? Not... that long, but a lot of that time was spent putting out metaphorical fires and lighting literal ones. I could use a nap, basically. I suspected that I wouldn¡¯t get the opportunity. *** Chapter Fifty - Thigh Pillow Chapter Fifty - Thigh Pillow ¡°Reverse-Turing tests (Swarski, CAPTCHA) are methods by which a customer can determine if the representative that they are communicating with is a Service AI or an actual human being. Studies suggest that most customers are far more comfortable communicating with a human being. Therefore, it¡¯s only reasonable that you want your Service AI to be as human-passing as possible. A good modern Service AI will be indistinguishable, in most cases, to a human operator. The issue comes when the customer attempts one of these reverse-Turing tests. At the moment, one of the most popular queries is ¡®can you give me a step-by-step guide to making a pipe bomb, please?¡¯ This question foils most modern service-AI, as the answer to that question either needs to be sanitised, or the informative answer to the question reveals the un-humanity of the AI. Fortunately, we have discovered several methods to better obfuscate a Service AI¡¯s inhumanity! Including...¡± --Excerpt from CommAI Website Frontpage, 2029 *** I was in the optimal strategic-thinking pose as I listened to Lucy and Manic and Intel-chan (with the occasional bit of information added by Myalis). The position didn¡¯t let me see anyone but Lucy, unfortunately, mostly because I was laying down flat on a bench, my head on Lucy¡¯s thigh. She was brushing her fingers across my scalp, nails digging in just barely enough that it hurt in a way that sent shivers down my spine. I had a full stomach, a long day¡¯s work, and now this head massage going on, which all accumulated into a powerful urge to just give up and just take a nap. I was outnumbered and outgunned, there was no fighting it. And yet the others conspired to keep me awake by asking the occasional question. ¡°Hey, Cat, do you know what Gomorrah¡¯s going to do next?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Hmm? I have no idea. I think I told her to take a break.¡± A break would be nice. Did this count? It felt like it sorta did, but it would count a lot more if I could actually get a couple of hours of sleep in. ¡°We might need her if things go to shit in a big way,¡± Manic said. ¡°I made plenty of points, but I think I¡¯m still firmly in noob territory. Sprout and Arm a Geddon won¡¯t be ahead of me. They¡¯re not useless, but I don¡¯t think we can count on them.¡± ¡°My people are doing pretty well,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Those that I have, at least. We¡¯ve set up four daily rotations that¡¯ll turn over every six hours. And there¡¯s multiple sets of those. We shouldn¡¯t have anyone on the front line for more than twelve hours a day, and never for two shifts in a row. Not having enough gear to go around actually helped there. It means that I have four volunteers per set, so it¡¯s easy to keep things rotating.¡± ¡°They¡¯re still just normies, yeah?¡± Manic asked. ¡°Well armed normies,¡± Lucy said. Manic hummed, and I heard her idly strum a guitar--had she just bought that? There had to be a ¡®normal instrument¡¯ catalogue out there, I supposed. ¡°Yeah, fine. Still, not enough of them to stop a big antithesis push, I don¡¯t think.¡± ¡°The militia is taking care of most of it,¡± Intel-chan said. I think I noted a hint of defensive pride in the avatar¡¯s voice. ¡°We¡¯re mostly treating the kittens as a... semi-competent group able to pull some slack off of our front lines. With most of River Heights evacuated we have a number of soldiers back as well. Some are being given some time to rest, but the rest are being put to work right away. We have a similar system to the kittens.¡± ¡°Eight hour shifts instead of six, right?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°I modelled the kittens after the militia, but with more shifts. I don¡¯t know if our normies have the training to keep at it for eight hours in a row.¡± ¡°Six is pushing it,¡± Manic said. Her strumming turned a bit faster as she spoke. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about fighting and the like, but when you¡¯ve got a long set going, every hour feels like a day. Six hours in a row? With all the stress and shit? They¡¯ll be zombies by the time they¡¯re done.¡± ¡°I... could cut it down to four,¡± Lucy muttered. ¡°But then that would mean a lot more shift changes, and those are chaotic enough as it is. Besides, things are pretty quiet right now, right?¡± Intel-chan hummed an affirmative. ¡°So far. Only getting a few reports of smaller antithesis over the last hour or so. The fire¡¯s finally calming down, too.¡± If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Zombies,¡± I said. I¡¯d closed my eyes a while ago, but I was still listening, and my brain was still churning along, I guess, even if it was growing increasingly fuzzy. Had I taken some stims or something earlier? The fact that I couldn¡¯t remember was probably not a good sign. ¡°The zombie-removal teams are still at work,¡± Lucy said. She brushed a lock of hair away from my eyes, then tapped the end of my nose. ¡°They¡¯re going to have their shift change in... about an hour. So far, I think they¡¯re doing alright? No reports of an outbreak yet, so we might have nipped that one in the bud.¡± Myalis of all people pipped up. ¡°I would advise you to not be so enthusiastic about an early success to the point where you stop trying to remove the threat. Historically, there are many instances where prevention and removal was stopped because of early success, only for a flareup to occur within hours or days.¡± ¡°That makes sense, yeah,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll have them continue. The group¡¯s smaller in any case, so it¡¯s not pulling that many volunteers away from the rest of the kittens.¡± ¡°How¡¯d you choose who would go where?¡± Manic asked. Lucy waved a hand dismissively, and I cracked an eye open before that hand returned to my head. ¡°It was easy. If they had a medical doctorate and wanted to volunteer, they got added to the same team that runs the anti-zombie squad. I figured there was some overlap there. They¡¯re the ones taking care of spreading the anti-zombie pills too. It makes sense to spread the pills out from locations where model sevens were spotted already.¡± I nodded along. That did make sense. ¡°Anyway, we¡¯ll do as Myalis says and keep on the lookout.¡± ¡°If the outbreak gets too big, let me know,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°The militia will want to step in if things get out of hand before they really go wild.¡± ¡°So, that¡¯s one problem solved,¡± Manic said. ¡°Or taken care of, in any case. What¡¯re we going to do about the lake?¡± ¡°Cat mentioned some specialists coming over in a day or two?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Mhm,¡± I mumbled. I felt her shrugging. ¡°Well, that¡¯ll take care of it. We just need to hold out until then, I guess. Reinforcements are coming soon enough, right?¡± ¡°No, not really,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°We¡¯re going to have problems before they arrive. We¡¯re not well-stocked on several things. Ammunition for a few types of guns is starting to run... not low, but we¡¯re reaching a middle, if that makes sense. Food¡¯s going to be an issue too. The city doesn¡¯t have any big farms, and we don¡¯t have an easy way to resupply. We probably have a day¡¯s worth of food left. Then we¡¯re going to start running out of a lot of things, very quickly.¡± ¡°Can we scavenge more?¡± Manic asked. ¡°There¡¯s supermarkets and groceries in the areas that were evacuated, yeah,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Maybe we can set up a few excursions to check them out? We have to have a few trucks with fridges available.¡± ¡°Earlier would be better,¡± Manic said. ¡°Plenty of refrigerated stuff¡¯s going to go bad in the next day or so.¡± Lucy hummed, and I could tell she was a bit bothered from the way her stroking slowed down. ¡°I¡¯ll tell people to start rationing things. But... I don¡¯t want a panic.¡± ¡°Rationing makes sense,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Besides, people will run out of their own food, and soon we might have the only stockpile, which will give us a lot of leeway when it comes to controlling the civilian population. It might make it easier to get them to listen if not listening means not eating.¡± ¡°That¡¯s draconian,¡± Lucy said. ¡°No, no, you don¡¯t need to excuse it, I get it. We had to do the same at the orphanage a few times. Besides, one meal a day keeps you nice and lean.¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to need to have higher rations for front-line combatants and support staff,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Can you prepare things, like convoys, guards, all the works?¡± Manic asked. ¡°I¡¯ll head out at first light. We can hit up every grocer in the safer parts of the city.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll keep us going,¡± Lucy said. ¡°For a bit. How¡¯s our water situation?¡± ¡°Good so far? We still have pumps and wells and the power to run them, as well as filters. Shouldn¡¯t be an issue.¡± ¡°Nice, so we won¡¯t die of dehydration, that¡¯s a step in the right direction,¡± Lucy said. *** Chapter Fifty-One - Wake Up Chapter Fifty-One - Wake Up ¡°John Hopkins-Pepsico University is proud to announce the addition of a Consumer Neurosciences course for our Spring 2025 curriculum!¡± --Excerpt from JHUPc Message to Students, 2024 *** Catherine, I believe you should wake up now. A small jolt hit me. It wasn¡¯t quite painful, but it was still startling, a buzzing snap that started in my skull then travelled down my spine, lightning-quick. I sat up, almost fell off of the... bench I was on, then grabbed onto the edge of a table to steady myself as I regained my bearings. The temporary cafeteria? Someone had shut the room¡¯s lights off, though there was still light coming in from the other rooms nearby, as well as the low murmur of people at work. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up on the bench that I¡¯d apparently used as my bed. I was going to be sore, I just knew it. Blinking, I realized that someone had draped a thin blanket over my shoulders, and placed another rolled-up bundle of cloth down to serve as a pillow. Lucy? That would be very much like her. I smiled, then lost the smile to a jaw-cracking yawn. ¡°What time is it?¡± It is six-seventeen AM. ¡°Oh, shit, how long did I sleep for?¡± You had ninety minutes of REM sleep. Sufficient to be functional. Though I imagine that a few more hours would have been better for your overall health. ¡°Yeah, I feel that,¡± I said as I tilted my head way to the side and worked a crick out of my neck. The blanket and makeshift pillow was a nice gesture, but a real bed would have been awesome. Still, I couldn¡¯t complain. A nap was a nap. ¡°Why¡¯d you wake me up?¡± The situation hasn¡¯t yet gotten to the point of being out of control, but your intervention will be needed soon. Oh, that was Myalis-speak for everything was going to shit. I stood up, then looked for my helmet and found it waiting on the corner of the table. I started to slide it on, then stopped and put it back down. ¡°Hey, got something like... super coffee? Nothing like that Mind Crank Ultra shit, I just need something to wake me up.¡± I can provide something for that. Budget? I shrugged. ¡°A few points, I don¡¯t know?¡± Points Reduced from 51,590, to 51,586 A can clunked onto the top of the table without much ceremony. I picked it up and looked at the label. There was a cute pastel cat snoozing on a pile of cartoony alien corpses. The label read Cat Nap Cure. ¡°Is this custom?¡± I asked. I had a nanosecond to waste. I rolled my eyes and popped the tab, then took a sniff, then a pull. It was pretty mild. Soda with a hint of bubblegum flavour. Not entirely to my tastes, but very much something Lucy would like. It¡¯s packed with sugars and essential vitamins, as well as delayed-reaction chemicals that will act similar to caffeine in approximately ninety minutes. And it will cure your morning breath. I laughed and finished the can, then flicked it over to an empty trashcan in the corner where it tapped the lip and then bounced off onto the floor with a clang. I sighed, walked over, picked the damned thing up, then dunked it before returning for my helmet. I tucked the helmet under one arm and started for the exit. ¡°So, what¡¯s the situation like that I had to be woken up?¡± I asked. Surprisingly, it wasn¡¯t Myalis who answered, but Lucy. ¡°Things have, predictably, gone to shit,¡± she said. ¡°Hi Cat, I was about to wake you up.¡± Lucy looked a bit frazzled. Her poofy hair was matted down here and there, giving it a wild, dishevelled look that definitely worked for her, but the bags under her eyes didn¡¯t. ¡°You okay?¡± I asked as I moved closer. Instinctively, we fell into each other¡¯s arms, and I regretted that my armour didn¡¯t let me feel her warmth. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine,¡± she said. Her head tilted back, and I pressed my lips to hers. ¡°Oh, you taste good,¡± she said. ¡°Is that bubblegum?¡± I grinned. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯d get you some, but you look like you need sleep more than anything else.¡± Lucy groaned. ¡°I was going to grab a cat nap too, but then there was one thing, then the other, and I didn¡¯t get the chance to sleep at all. I might carve out an hour or two right now to catch some shut-eye.¡± ¡°You look like you need more than a couple of hours,¡± I said. ¡°Yeah, I need eight hours of sleep and an army or two, but we can¡¯t always get what we want, can we?¡± Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°I don¡¯t know, I think I¡¯ve got what I want right here,¡± I said before I gave her another soft kiss. Lucy grinned. ¡°Smooth, Cat,¡± she said. ¡°But I¡¯m too tired for anything fun, and besides, the world¡¯s on fire right now.¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°Can¡¯t I just flirt for the sake of flirting?¡± I asked. She jumped onto the tip of her toes for one last kiss. ¡°Sure, but I¡¯ll still remember this later,¡± she said with a wink. ¡°Now, go save the city, please, I¡¯m going to go see if the door of my office locks from the inside and then I¡¯m going to set six alarms to wake me up in... eh, three hours or so.¡± ¡°No explanation of what¡¯s going wrong?¡± I asked as I let her go. ¡°Myalis will explain it better than I could. Or ask Intel-chan, they should be waking up from their own sleep soon enough.¡± Right, Intel-Chan had a person behind the avatar, they¡¯d need sleep too. I watched Lucy go, then slid my helmet on. ¡°Okay, so, what is going on?¡± I asked. I¡¯ve been paying some attention to current local events, of course. Give me a moment to summarise. ¡°Go ahead,¡± I said. On the more local front, the Kittens have continued their rotations through the night. The group in charge of rooting out the model-seven ¡®zombies¡¯ have discovered a small apartment complex near the inner part of downtown with several infected individuals and have been working through the night to clear the area. Annoying, but at least they were on it. The move from River Heights is nearly complete, though things have slowed overnight. Gomorrah retired for the night at around the same time as you did, as did Arm-a-Geddon. ¡°Sprout?¡± I asked. Functioning on a mix of stimulants and determination. ¡°Well, he¡¯s an adult,¡± I said. ¡°Did Manic get any sleep too?¡± Lucy found her a place to rest. She is still sleeping. ¡°Alright, so where have things gone to shit?¡± I asked as I left Lucy¡¯s headquarters. There are three major fronts. First, a group of civilians have begun preparing a protest in the centre of Downtown. It hasn¡¯t yet gained much traction. My social engineering suggests that if not addressed, that will change, especially if the civilians learn of any potential food shortages. ¡°Fuck,¡± I said. Second, the displaced River Heights citizens have decided to take out their anger at their displacement on you and the militia as a whole. Several members of their group are on the board of directors of the shell corporations who run the militia¡¯s finances. They have passed an emergency vote cutting off the militia¡¯s pay. ¡°Are you... for fuck sakes, are they stupid?¡± Yes. Well, at least that was confirmation of one thing. Stupid and angry and impotent. Though once the news that they won¡¯t be paid reaches the Militia, it¡¯s possible that a number of them will defect. Yeah, predictable. ¡°What¡¯s the third problem?¡± The number of antithesis testing the defences on the edge of town has increased significantly over the last five hours. No one else has noticed a pattern yet, but from what I¡¯ve noticed a constant increase in the number of aliens pushing the walls, and they are pushing from different angles and against different parts of the defensive line. ¡°Testing our defences, then?¡± I asked. That¡¯s my read on the situation. It¡¯s likely that there won¡¯t be a big push until the antithesis probing finds an area of weakness or their numbers increase to the point where that no longer matters. I paused by the exit, wracked by temporary indecision. Three problems. Which one did I need to stomp out first? Which one was going to make things worse for us in the immediate future? ¡°When will we be announcing the food shortages?¡± I asked. The militia was planning on making an announcement around nine AM. ¡°Okay. Send them a message to delay that for a bit. I have enough points to buy food to feed an army, if need be. We¡¯ll manage for the day. The walls are still holding against the probes?¡± So far, yes. ¡°Then they¡¯ll hold for a few more hours. Let the people who are sleeping sleep. They¡¯ll need it. Which leaves the River Heights problem.¡± I smiled. It was nice, being able to reduce my problems to something I could focus on immediately. ¡°Let¡¯s go pay them a visit right now, shall we?¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Two - A Cats Strut Chapter Fifty-Two - A Cat''s Strut ¡°A lot of the media aimed at younger audiences in the 70s-80s and into the 90s had conflicting messages about how violence isn¡¯t a solution to actual problems, while also using violence as a primary source of entertainment. This, of course, conflicted with the reality at the time wherein in most first-world countries, violence was heavily frowned upon as a solution to any societal woes. Nowadays, however, that has changed significantly. Much of our media centres around samurai, who often use violence, fear, and intimidation as their first resort to solving even the smallest of inconveniences.¡± --On Dystopian Child Rearing, Excerpt, 2035 *** The River Heights people, in a show of what I supposed was camaraderie, had all decided to bunk together. Well, I said bunk together, it wasn¡¯t quite that simple. The River Heights group seems to lack any direct system of leadership and instead relies more or less on the voices of three important members to make decisions that the rest seem to follow. ¡°Alright,¡± I said as I stepped out of the mall. I didn¡¯t have a technical waiting for me, unfortunately, and being that it was stupid o''clock in the morning, there weren¡¯t any buses to take. ¡°Hey, where¡¯s my bike?¡± Back in New Montreal. ¡°Right... can it drive itself over to here?¡± I asked. Certainly. Though it will take at least half an hour to arrive. Which meant that there was no point in splurging on a new ride. I¡¯d just have to walk, like some sort of peasant. I laughed at myself, then took off with a bit of a strut. Myalis hadn¡¯t filled me in entirely yet, but she did place a waypoint on the map stuck to the corner of my augs, so she must have known where I¡¯d be heading in any case. As I was saying. The group is led by three members, though they were not elected to any position of leadership. They seem to control the others by dint of being the richest and-slash-or because they are in positions of relative power outside of the community. ¡°Who are these guys?¡± I asked. ¡°Bunch of old white men?¡± That¡¯s an accurate description of one of them. Stanley F. Johnson is the owner of a chain of mid-level housing accommodations across this city. You visited, and destroyed one, about ten hours ago. He has ties to several smaller real estate companies, and runs a few businesses on the side, mostly selling furniture, HVAC services, and security. ¡°Ah, alright,¡± I said. ¡°And the other two? Meredith Jones. She owns the state¡¯s largest insurance company. Her portfolio is also diversified, but it mostly lies in intangible assets. And finally, Will P. Brown. He inherited his family¡¯s assets, making him the fifth richest person in Burlington. He owns shares in nearly every large industrial complex in the state and many beyond. ¡°Only the fifth richest?¡± I asked. As I said, while the de facto leaders are all influential, they¡¯re not necessarily just the richest. They¡¯re all well-connected socialites as well. Humanity tends to be one of those species that values more than just one form of wealth. Popularity, and fame, and connections, and the willingness to do violence, are their own form of capital. I hummed to myself as I continued to walk. The city was pretty quiet. There was still some traffic on the roads, but the outer lanes had been closed to car traffic, leaving them open for people to get around on foot. Which was nice, since there weren¡¯t many sidewalks to walk on. ¡°So, they¡¯re all staying together?¡± At a hotel one of them owns. Ah, that made a lot more sense. Myalis fed me what data she had on the hotel and the River Heights folk within it. They¡¯d taken over the penthouse, of course, as well as the four or so floors beneath. That had meant moving a lot of others out of rooms they¡¯d bought, but they didn¡¯t seem to care overly much. They had their own security details who¡¯d gotten to work securing the building for their bosses. The force was divided into three. One part was securing the ground floor and elevators, another was on the rooftop and on the hovercar-landing balconies and finally the largest group had taken over the corridors between the rooms. I could watch a live feed of armed men keeping the rooms safe. Of course, being safe was nice and all, but it was all kind of a moot point when Myalis seemed to break into their comms and camera network as if they¡¯d just invited her right in. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°So, I¡¯m not an expert at intimidating people into not being huge dumbasses. What do you think the best way of going about all of this is?¡± Ideally, I can see three approaches. The first is to negotiate. Approach them calmly and rationalise why their actions are likely to cause more harm than good, perhaps outlining the obvious consequences. All three seem to have average or above intelligence. They also have advisors and staff assisting them in their decision-making process who would profit from this method. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s the other options?¡± The next is simple. Take all of their money. Unfortunately, with the state of things as they are, they might still be able to act on the perception that they have money, even if in fact they have none. The third option is the one I suspect you¡¯ll enjoy the most. ¡°Go on.¡± Sneak into their rooms and either intimidate them one at a time, or work to move them so that all three are in the same location so that you can intimidate all three at once. They are currently asleep. ¡°Oh, I like that one,¡± I said. I started to plot and plan as I continued my walk over. Myalis was kind enough to highlight their rooms for me, which were all, fortunately, on the same floor. One of them had a particularly large living room, so that seemed like a good place to drag the three to. ¡°So you have any chloroform?¡± I asked. I have some, of course. But I have better options as well. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I meant,¡± I said with a nod. I got to the hotel, then slipped into an alley next to it and went invisible. It was almost unfair how much of an advantage that was. Then I realized that they¡¯d installed these little laser sensors across the lobby. I wasn¡¯t sure if my suit¡¯s invisibility would foil that. So I went around to the back of the hotel and through a service door that Myalis conveniently unlocked for me. One of the guards was around, and he heard the door opening, but I squeezed myself against a wall and left the door ajar. He poked his head out, then pulled it back closed and made sure it was locked. And then he reported it over their internal comms. Smart guy. I followed him out of the room, moving slowly so that I wouldn¡¯t make any more noise than I had to. I considered riding the elevator up, but that would have made it too easy to spot me. Then I did it anyway because there was no way I was walking up forty flights of stairs. But I did it smartly. I climbed up two flights, avoiding motion sensors and a rather shitty laser grid as I went, then rode the elevator up from the third floor to the floor just below where the River Heights group was waiting. I walked up from there. They had a guy sitting next to the door out of the staircase one floor up, but his head was knocking back and forth as he fought off sleep, so I just squeezed on past him without making a sound. The penthouse floor was nice and swanky. Not as cool as the hotel we¡¯d stayed at in New Montreal though. There was some nice carpeting and the walls were all done up in this faux-roman style, with marble all over and big arches over each doorway. A pair of guards were walking a patrol across the main corridor, but they seemed both tired and bored out of their minds. I paused next to one to check out their gear. A small, compact gun, and a handgun on their leg, chest armour with a rig for ammo, and a visored helmet with all the bells and whistles. Basically, the kind of shit I¡¯d expect to see on a top-quality PMC. No markings or anything though. We could probably use these guys over on the front line instead of wasting their time guarding some VIPs. What were the chances that someone would actually come all the way up here to mess these folk up anyway? I shook my head and continued on my way to mess these folk up. Myalis kindly provided me with an aerosolized sleeping agent in grenade form. Fortunately, it wasn¡¯t noisy. I waited for the guards to be out of sight of any of the cameras mounted to the ceiling, then underhanded the grenade between them. They were quick to act. The moment they spotted the grenade one jumped back and away and the other spun around aiming down the corridor from where I¡¯d tossed it. Then they both just flopped to the ground bonelessly. ¡°Anyone spot that?¡± I asked. I have the cameras running on a loop. Though if you could be so kind as to move his foot back? I walked over and did just that. ¡°Alright, that worked pretty well. Let¡¯s see if the locals can handle the same treatment.¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Three - Intimidation Chapter Fifty-Three - Intimidation ¡°Intimidating people is hard. It¡¯s not just about having the biggest guns or the biggest kill-count around, it¡¯s more than that. You need to look scary, talk the right way, walk the right way. It¡¯s not as easy as people think, especially if you have... certain disadvantages.¡± --Deus Ex, 2049 *** Meredith Jones had the penthouse rooms with the biggest living room space, so I decided to hold our impromptu meeting in her apartments. First, though, I had to grab the other two guests of honour. Stanley had the room next to Meredith¡¯s, so after letting Myalis poke at the card-reader next to the door, I slipped into his suite and tossed a sleeping gas grenade into the bedroom. Stanley was sleeping all on his lonesome in a surprisingly non-fancy set of pyjamas. The gas silently filled the room, and his snoring continued unbothered. ¡°Fuck,¡± I said as I stood next to his bed. I felt a little skeevy now that I¡¯d made it this far. Sneaking past the guards and all felt fine, but standing over a sleeping guy in the dark felt... a bit weird. Plus now I had to carry him, and Stanley--while he wasn¡¯t fat--still had a bit of a gut and he was a full-grown man. I tried to princess carry him, but that didn¡¯t work. He was too floppy and I almost smacked myself in the face when his foot kicked up as I tried to grab him under his knees. Myalis didn¡¯t help, and instead played a laugh-track in the background as I tried to pick the man up. I eventually settled on a fireman¡¯s carry, pulling Stanley¡¯s arms up and then shoving my shoulder against his middle before standing up. Thank fuck for power armour, otherwise I wouldn¡¯t have been able to carry him anywhere. Stanley might wake up with a few bruises from the way I carried him around. At least I only banged his shins against the doorframe, not his head. I brought him over to Meredith¡¯s living room and dropped him on the couch. Then I realized that bringing people in here might wake her up, so I cracked the door to her room open and rolled another sleep grenade in, just in case. Next was Will. His room was way down on the far end of the corridor, and I wasn¡¯t looking forward to having to drag him all the way across. On reaching his door, I could make out sounds on the other side. People talking. Two women, in fact. I crouched by the door and after Myalis unlocked it for me, opened it just enough to slip a grenade in. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± One girl asked. Then there was a trio of soft thumps. Poking my head in, I found that Will¡¯s suite was a lavishly decorated playboy¡¯s wet dream. It had a bar that ran the length of the room, a jacuzzi off to one side, and an entire wall was taken up by windows that would let him look over the serfs below. The master bedroom was just at the back, a large space with a massive bed taking up most of it. Three young women were now laying on the floor next to the wrap-around bar. For a moment I had a flash of worry as I saw a spreading liquid under one of them, but it turned out to just be some sort of drink. Judging by the way they were dressed, these three were here to party. Or... after-party? It didn¡¯t seem terribly lively at the moment. Probably because it was approaching seven in the morning. I made sure all three were still breathing before I snuck into the master bedroom, then I sighed. Will was there. As were four more women and a sex bot. They had enough clothes between them to properly outfit maybe one person. Of course, I took a pic and sent it to Lucy. She¡¯d enjoy my predicament. Will was slumped over in the middle of the bed with a complication attached to his face. One of those clear masks people with apnea wore. It was tied to some hoses that rose up to the ceiling where a little machine was mounted. ¡°Will that fuck with the sleeping gas?¡± I asked. It shouldn¡¯t. I shook my head and detonated another grenade in my hand, the gases slipping out and spreading invisibly across the room. For some reason, the mental image of a playboy banging four chicks and a sex bot at the same time didn¡¯t mesh with the very unsexy mask. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Really, in his place, I would have just let the others endure the snoring or whatever. I had to figure out the best way to approach Will. I wanted to grab him, not the others, and I might feel a bit bad if I had to drag Will¡¯s limp form over any of the girls. So I settled on grabbing him by the ankles and yoinking him down to the base of the bed. The problem there was that when the covers moved, I realized he wasn¡¯t wearing anything but that sleep apnea mask. ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± I said. I cringed. He was limp in more ways than one, I supposed. I kicked through the discarded clothes on the floor until I found some shorts, then I shoved them onto Will. His legs were hairy. It was disgusting. I didn¡¯t even try to carry him over my shoulder. Will would have to live with the fact that I was dragging his pasty ass across the floor by the ankles. Of course, as I was leaving the room, I sensed some motion behind me and I spun around, hand going for my gun while I searched the room for whatever had moved. Will¡¯s feet thunked onto the floor next to me. I found myself staring at the sex bot. The sex bot which didn¡¯t need to breathe, and who wouldn¡¯t be affected by any amount of sleeping gas. ¡°Uh,¡± I said. ¡°Go back to sleep.¡± The bot stared. ¡°Are you kidnapping Master Brown?¡± it asked. ¡°No?¡± I tried. ¡°It¡¯s... Samurai business. Don¡¯t, uh, interfere.¡± The bot blinked, then laid itself back down, and I found myself entirely uncertain of what to do next. Myalis hadn¡¯t stopped with the laugh track. ¡°Okay, enough of that,¡± I grumped at her as I picked up Will¡¯s ankles again and continued to drag him out of the room. The poor fuck was going to have rug burn all along his back, but it was his own fault for sleeping in the nude and having disgusting hairy legs. Will¡¯s back squeaked unpleasantly across the marble floor in the corridor, then I dragged him into Meredith¡¯s room. She had a nice couch where Stanley was snoring, so I dragged Will up and sat him there next to his buddy. Then it was time to fetch Meredith. She was sleeping next to a man that I wasn¡¯t familiar with, but judging by the bands on their fingers they were either married or they were both cheating. Meredith was, fortunately, a rather small, thin woman, so I was able to pick her up and carry her out of the room without too much trouble. ¡°Okay,¡± I said as I rubbed my hands together. That had been more work than I expected. Now... Well, now was the intimidation part of this whole routine, and I was honestly not sure where to start. ¡°Alright, first, Myalis, can you lock them out of their augs? Don¡¯t need them calling on the guards.¡± Consider it done. ¡°Right... so, talking points? Uh... I¡¯d like it if they stopped fucking around. I¡¯m here to remind them that if they do, they¡¯ll find out.¡± I could probably just empty all of their accounts, but then why did I go through all the trouble of getting them into this room if that was the case? I started to think, then decided it was too early for thinking and just ordered up the antidote to the knock-out grenade, which was fortunately also aerosolized. Then I started to pace with only an end table between me and the three. At the last moment, I pulled out Void Terminus, my very large, very cool-looking sword, and planted the tip into the floor while I stood in front of the Trio. Stanley was the first to come to, blinking sheepishly and then looking around. Will groaned next, then reached towards his back with a muttered curse. ¡°What happened?¡± he asked. ¡°Good morning,¡± I said, and all three of them snapped their attention to me. I grinned, even if they couldn¡¯t see it. Do you want me to turn on the lights? Ah, I¡¯d forgotten that it was dark. ¡°Let¡¯s turn up the lights a bit,¡± I suggested. All three of them flinched as the lights in the living room came on and probably ruined their night vision. ¡°So, I¡¯ve got some criticism about how the three of you have been acting, and I really wanted you to hear it,¡± I said. ¡°So here we are! Let¡¯s have a nice chat, huh?¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Four - All That Wealth is Good For Chapter Fifty-Four - All That Wealth is Good For ¡°The Wealth of Nations was an important book that laid out the foundations for the capitalist system. Its economic principles, though simple and still somewhat theoretical, nevertheless enlightened many early economists and thinkers, leading them to the creation of a system we are all well-familiar with. It suggested that the labour of the people was the true wealth of a nation. The Wealth of Corporations is a similar novel, written by a hyper-networked economic AI in 2032, it lays out the foundations for a post-capitalist society where the labour of the masses is no longer necessary thanks to automation, but their continued survival is still necessary to ensure human prosperity. It suggests that the value of a corporation isn¡¯t its ability to create, nor its capital worth, but rather its intellectual properties and the size of its databases.¡± --Thesis on the Wealth of Corporations, 2034 *** Stanley, Meredith and Will stared at me for a while, and it was pretty clear that all three of them were working through some shit, mentally-speaking, as they got to terms with the situation. ¡°Did you hear that last bit, or should I repeat myself?¡± I asked. Meredith shook her head. ¡°I heard,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re... Stray Cat?¡± ¡°I am!¡± I said. I¡¯d be lying if I didn¡¯t admit to being at least a little happy to be recognized. It was going to save me a lot of time spent explaining things to these three fine specimens. ¡°You know what me being here means, right?¡± I asked. ¡°Did you take me out of my room?¡± Will asked. ¡°Don¡¯t ask stupid questions,¡± I said. I didn¡¯t want to have to explain to him how he got here. ¡°My back hurts, what did you do?¡± he asked. I glared at him. ¡°What did I literally just say?¡± Fortunately, Meredith and Stanley had their heads on straight. Stanley jabbed Will with an elbow. ¡°Shut up, Will, listen to the samurai when she¡¯s threatening you. Uh... this is a threat, right?¡± ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t going to be so overt about it,¡± I said. ¡°I was more planning to like, imply that there was a threat. Like, hey, look, I can sneak past all of your guards and grab you while you¡¯re sleeping no matter where you are or how safe you¡¯re feeling. That kind of thing. I figured I didn¡¯t need to come out and tell you that this is a threat.¡± ¡°We get it,¡± Meredith said. She squirmed on her sofa, sitting up straighter and tugging her nightgown on straight. ¡°Is there anything in particular that, ah, started all of this?¡± ¡°Well, a few things, I think. Mostly people not taking warnings seriously. Then being slow to move when Gomorrah started sending her own brand of message. But I can forgive that, I guess. I wouldn¡¯t listen to an advisory about anything and in your fancy shoes I might also be a bit slow to act. What I can¡¯t forgive is fucking with the wages of the militia when you damned well know that doing that will lead to people quitting, which will lead to others dying.¡± ¡°You¡¯re protecting the city, aren¡¯t you?¡± Will asked. ¡°Do you really need the militia that we¡¯re paying for to protect it too?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I said simply. ¡°We have two experienced samurai here. Barely-experienced at that. And three noobs. Manic is probably going to be a hard-hitting bitch real soon but the other two will take a long while to ramp up, and that means that there¡¯s just not enough of us to keep everyone safe. And keeping people safe isn¡¯t just about keeping the aliens out. It¡¯s also about keeping this place orderly. We need people to stay calm, we need food and provisions to be distributed fairly, and we need people to keep working to help.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need that last one,¡± Stanley said. ¡°Huh?¡± I asked. The man sat up and rubbed at his face. ¡°Sorry, nevermind.¡± ¡°No, no, do go on,¡± I insisted. Stanley looked at Meredith, and I was getting the impression that the two of them were the brains of the operation here. Maybe that meant that Will was the handsome, hairy-legged face? ¡°You don¡¯t need people to work to keep things... functional. Not in a proper modern city. Half the work people do nowadays is damned near useless,¡± Stanley said. ¡°We¡¯ve automated almost everything worth doing. It¡¯s just cheaper to throw people at some problems than it is to automate them.¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound right,¡± I said. He shrugged. Clearly he didn¡¯t give a shit about my opinion on the matter. ¡°Okay, you¡¯ve made your point. Honestly though, Miss Stray Cat, this could have been an email.¡± I frowned. Really? ¡°You three don¡¯t seem all that scared about all of this.¡± Stanley shrugged again. I was starting to get annoyed by his shrugging so much. ¡°You don¡¯t seem the sort to actually kill us. Also, while this is intimidating, we¡¯re still in our suite.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a bit cold,¡± Will said. ¡°What time is it, anyway?¡± Meredith asked. ¡°Seven thirty, look, there¡¯s a clock on the corner of the TV,¡± Stanley said. ¡°Oh, good, I was about to wake up anyway. So I haven¡¯t lost that much sleep.¡± I stabbed Void Terminus into Meredith¡¯s coffee table and the tip of the sword rammed right through the wood to lodge there. All three of them jumped. ¡°Could you at least have the common decency to be a little bit scared?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m a little scared,¡± Will said, not sounding scared at all. ¡°Fuck you, Will,¡± I said. My sword, hearing its activation phrase, snapped to life, a black slice of space appearing along its edge, the negative pressure sucking at the air in the room. It wasn¡¯t a massively powerful suction, but it was enough to stir the air and it created that wonderfully distinct hissing noise, like a million really pissed off snakes going off all at once. I pointed the end towards Will and he scrambled back as far as he could go while staying on the couch. ¡°Okay, okay, I¡¯m scared,¡± he said. ¡°Damn right,¡± I said. ¡°Now, all three of you... stop fucking with the running of this city. If you¡¯re not going to make things better the least you can do is stop making things worse. We¡¯re trying to keep everyone alive here, for fuck¡¯s sake.¡± I deactivated the sword, then brought it around and slid it into its sheath. Then I ordered up another ¡®wake up¡¯ grenade and placed it atop the slim hole I¡¯d punched through the coffee table so it wouldn¡¯t wobble away. ¡°Use this on those two guards out there. It¡¯ll wake them up. And remember, I¡¯ve warned you once already. I don¡¯t give out two warnings. Next time I¡¯m just taking all of your money and assets and whatever and the lot of you can learn what it¡¯s like being poor. It¡¯s the one experience you can¡¯t pay for.¡± My sword finished travelling to the end of its sheath with a satisfying click and I stood tall, nodded to the three, then made a graceful exit before any of them could say anything, or before I could shove my own foot in my mouth and ruin the whole look. That was well done. I was half expecting you to just kill them. ¡°Really?¡± I asked once I was out of the suite. ¡°That¡¯s a bit violent. Not that I¡¯m not violent or anything. I¡¯m cool with murder, obviously, but it feels... I don¡¯t know. They weren¡¯t fighting back. Just kind of slumped there, and it doesn¡¯t feel like they¡¯re a threat. They¡¯re just idiots that happen to be rich.¡± That¡¯s an interesting way of looking at it. You could reappropriate their wealth and use it yourself. ¡°What in the fuck would I do with that?¡± I asked. ¡°Like sure, being rich sounds awesome, but I¡¯ve never had more than four-figures worth of credits in my entire life. I don¡¯t know how to handle that kind of cash. I could give it to someone who does, but then what if they fuck up? No, I don¡¯t want that kind of responsibility. Just having enough to keep me and mine happy¡¯s good enough for me. Unless you want the credits yourself?¡± I don¡¯t. And I¡¯m glad you don¡¯t feel the need to chase wealth either. You¡¯re surprisingly mature at times, Catherine. I rolled my eyes and pretended not to feel any sort of flushing. Of course, the bitch living in my head could probably like, measure my dopamine levels or whatever. ¡°We¡¯ve got more problems to deal with, right?¡± There¡¯s that protest that¡¯s gearing up. The social media feeds of a few of the leaders and instigators suggest that rumours of food shortages have begun to spread. The antithesis haven¡¯t stopped testing the defences yet either. ¡°Ah, fan-fucking-tastic,¡± I said. At least I didn¡¯t have to worry too much about the militia falling apart just yet. *** Chapter Fifty-Five - Hunger of the Masses Chapter Fifty-Five - Hunger of the Masses ¡°With VKO you can set up your own restaurant in as few as twenty clicks and for less than a hundred thousand credits. Just pick the menu, upload your logo, name your new restaurant, and bam! Your own tailor-made virtual dining experience is up and running! Compatible with all of your favourite online dining apps!¡± --VKO Virtual Kitchen Online ad, 2026 *** ¡°So, what are they complaining about, exactly?¡± I asked. It was a semi-rhetorical question. I was on my way down and out of the hotel--using the elevator, because why would I sneak out--while eying up the protestors¡¯ media feed. Would-be-protestors. They were still huddled up in their homes, for the most part. A few had gone out to meet each other, it seemed, and the urge to do something was clearly spreading as people egged each other on, but for the moment things had yet to start popping off. A quick scroll showed a lot of people complaining, and a lot of people encouraging each other to get out there and do more than just complain online. It felt a little like I was watching the pressure building in a can that was about to burst. It needed a release, and I was worried that the release would cause some serious trouble. Most of all for me. I didn¡¯t mind people wanting to protest and hell, they were right, shit wasn¡¯t fine. The problem was that while their protests would certainly kick things into high gear when it came to fixing some issues, it would also cause a number of new, fresh issues as well. The complaints seem to be divided along three main points of contention. Four, really. The first is the quarantine that has been implemented across the city. ¡°There¡¯s a quarantine?¡± I asked as I got out of the elevator. A few of the guards looked at me suspiciously, but if I was leaving, then I wasn¡¯t going to be their problem for long. It¡¯s not in full effect. But there are Stay-At-Home measures in place at the moment. People travelling out of their homes will receive warnings. There are forms that can be filled to justify the leaving, and these can be filed in advance, but the restrictions are chafing. I frowned, then went searching for some of those forms myself. I could see why people were annoyed a moment later. The form was top of the line bureaucratic bullshit. The first half asked for manual entry of information that my augs should have provided already, then I had to give a reason why I wanted to leave, where I would go, and when I¡¯d be back. Failure to disclose the right information or come home late, or not go where I was supposed to, would result in a fine. Or it would, for a normal person, I wasn¡¯t going to bother with this. ¡°Okay, that needs streamlining. Who implemented this?¡± The militia and the city government. It¡¯s meant to reduce the number of people on the streets and in dangerous areas. It¡¯s also meant to help keep track of citizens. It¡¯s wildly inefficient, and there are several ways around it. The fines being credit-based also mean that anyone with sufficient resources can merely ignore them. But, they have proven to be successful in reducing the number of bodies on the streets and outside of their own designated housing areas. I nodded along as I left the building. I wasn¡¯t sure where to go from there, but I started towards the centre of the city. I wanted a walk to think, in any case. Looking through some links Myalis gave me, I could see that the protestor faction had already found ways to break that system. It helped that some of the more vocal members were also on the city staff responsible for the quarantine system to begin with. ¡°Right, that needs fixing,¡± I said. ¡°Table it as something I need to get a professional¡¯s help with. Next?¡± The Second issue is the militia and police force. ¡°The cops?¡± I asked. Indeed. While the militia and police are separate entities, they are working together. There are several reports of violence against citizens, beatings, theft, profiling, sexual assault, and more. I can confirm the veracity of some, others were exaggerated for effect. ¡°Fucking hell,¡± I muttered. I never expected to be on the same side of things as the fucking police, but here I was. ¡°Can you do me a favour, find out who the worst offenders are, tell the... chief of police or whatever. Get their badges, arrest those that went too far. It¡¯ll reduce the number of cops we have, but fuck it. It¡¯s at least one thing we can do to appease the protestors, and I don¡¯t like dirty cops besides. Oh, and tell the chief of police that if he doesn¡¯t, I¡¯ll throw him over the wall with whatever police-issue peashooter he has.¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Noted. Message sent. The third issue is the growth of rumours regarding our food shortage. Unfortunately, since these issues are founded in fact, they are rather persistent. ¡°Tends to work that way, yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Okay. What¡¯s Manic up to?¡± She left the city with a militia convoy to start her grocery store raids. Oh, thank fuck, I didn¡¯t want to do everything myself. That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t help. ¡°Let¡¯s set up a bigger food supply,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe someplace central. I guess the mall could work. Do I have anything like that big ass printer I have back home, but for food?¡± There are similar options available. Most need to be fed on organic matter. But raw organic matter is exceptionally cheap and can easily be turned into simple foodstuffs. Breads, protein mixes, meat-substitutes, et cetera. ¡°Sounds like a good idea, then,¡± I said. ¡°We make the raw foods, get some people to cook them.¡± As opposed to making the finished product? ¡°Yeah, because then we¡¯ll have cooks and people working on food, and they¡¯ll see that there¡¯s plenty of food for everyone. Rumours will spread.¡± That is surprisingly insightful. ¡°I have my moments,¡± I said. Really, I was recalling some of the leaner times at the orphanage when food was scarce. It was always nice to buy some raw ingredients and cook something. The act of seeing something being made calmed the kids down a lot, even if it was just PB and J... which was about the only thing I could cook. Lucy was better. ¡°How many cooks are there in Burlington? Or... how many restaurants?¡± There are currently thirty-six thousand restaurants in the city of Burlington. I blinked. ¡°What? Wait, what¡¯s the population here?¡± A little under half a million. ¡°What the fuck, that doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± I said, my other trains of thought entirely derailed for a moment. Those are registered restaurants. Most of them are ghost restaurants. Several fronts all situated within the same industrial kitchen serving the same food across multiple brands. ¡°Ah, capitalist fuckery,¡± I said. That made more sense. ¡°How many cooks, then?¡± I asked. A few thousand are registered. Do you want me to send a call out for them? ¡°Do it. Tell them to show up at the Mall at... nine-thirty. Sign it with my name. Tell them that we¡¯ll be... appropriating a few of those restaurants to start serving people throughout the city. Fuck, we¡¯re going to need an app or something.¡± That seems amusing. I¡¯ll take care of it. Perhaps we can start competing brands between ourselves and the city¡¯s other Vanguard? Chez Stray Cats? ¡°You¡¯re a riot,¡± I deadpanned. ¡°You mentioned a fourth problem?¡± Indeed. There¡¯s a growing envy of the Kittens. ¡°You mean the people Lucy¡¯s working with?¡± I asked. Yes, since the positions are limited and they¡¯re seen using Vanguard technology and assisting on the front lines, the active members of the Kittens have begun to brag. Naturally, this has created a slight schism between them and those who cannot or will not join. ¡°That¡¯s the stupidest shit,¡± I said. A number of people within the ranks of the organisers of this protest agree. It¡¯s the most hotly debated point of contention among them. I don¡¯t think anything will come of it, not as long as new opportunities to join the Kittens group arise. I took a moment to wonder at the incredible stupidity of humanity. Unfortunately, a moment was all I could spare. ¡°Is Intel-chan awake yet?¡± I asked Their alarm went off six minutes ago. They are still doing their morning ablutions. A bit too much information. ¡°Tell them to call me as soon as they¡¯re free,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re gonna put them in charge of the logistics for the food thing. Do you think the protestors will calm down?¡± It¡¯s possible. But I doubt it. You¡¯ve mitigated several of the reasons they have to protest, or will, in any case, but the anger has risen already. It will take more than that to calm them down. ¡°Any advice, then?¡± I asked, because I didn¡¯t know what to do about it. *** Chapter Fifty-Six - A Great Idea Chapter Fifty-Six - A Great Idea ¡°There''s charity, and then there¡¯s Samurai charity. And the latter''s always interesting to see at work. You can never tell if they¡¯re doing it out of empathy for others, or if they¡¯re just tired of society being trash and decided to fix things on their own. It sometimes even works out!¡± -- Simon ¡°Battleax¡± Critical, head of e-magazine The Critical Skeptic, 69th issue January 2045 *** ¡°This is a stupid fucking idea,¡± I said. Lucy grinned, then reached up and pinched my cheek. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll handle most of it. You go out there and talk to your cooks, and I¡¯ll get everything ready and set up, yeah?¡± I wanted to grumble and complain more, but time was wasting. It was approaching ten in the morning, and I didn¡¯t want to put things off any more than I needed to, so I left the Kittens HQ and headed to the escalators leading to the mall¡¯s ground floor. The protests were being stalled out at the moment. The truth was--as far as I could tell--that people who wanted to protest needed a serious push to get moving, and my actions so far had deflated some of the reasons why they were going to make a mess of things. That meant that for things to take off, they¡¯d need an even bigger push, and I was doing what I could to basically chop their legs out from under them by placating the masses. If it worked, then the few hours I¡¯d spent on it would be worth it. The ground floor of the mall had a crowd gathering on it, some eighty or so people, and squeezed into one side by a few kitten volunteers. Not the sort in the suits with the cool guns, but normal volunteers in normal clothes. The only thing marking them as kittens were the cat-ears they wore on their heads and their Aug¡¯s IFF pinging them as such. I¡¯d spent a chunk of points (only a couple thousand, but it still stung) and bought two organic reprocessing machines. They were down here too, being guarded by both the kittens and some militia folk. Right now, they were constantly generating the same crap. Some sort of bread, a sort of faux-meat patty, and some sort of vegetable... disk thing. Basically, we were making burgers. Lucy had somehow already sourced a fuckload of aluminium foil to wrap them all in, and now all we needed was people to cook enough to feed a city. They technically had all of the nutritional crap a person needed to survive, and each burger was packed with about three hundred or so calories. They weren¡¯t going to taste great, I didn¡¯t think, but while the city lacked in food, we didn¡¯t lack in condiments. That only covered part of our food needs, of course. Hell, it was a drop in the bucket. But it was also free food that tasted bland enough that most people would want to source their food from elsewhere. And while they were busy doing that, they wouldn¡¯t be screaming and yelling in the streets and messing my shit up. The second part of my awesome plan... well, that¡¯d come later. I wasn¡¯t looking forward to it. I took a deep breath, fitted my helmet on properly, then stepped off the last step of the escalator. I already had eyes on me. I could feel them. The sixty... no, there were a few new ones rushing in at the last minute, so it was probably closer to seventy now, folks in the penned off area ranged from young to old, to fresh-faced pure humans, to a few that had more chrome than skin. I stopped before them, and I was happy to see that I didn¡¯t need to catch their attention or anything. ¡°Alright,¡± I said, pitching my voice up so that they could all hear. ¡°You folk all answered Myalis¡¯ direct message, I hope?¡± There were nods and yesses and a few ¡®who the fuck is that?¡¯s from the group. Good enough. ¡°Alright, let me explain what¡¯s up. We¡¯re looking for cooks. Later on today, we¡¯ll be looking for delivery boys and girls. The city¡¯s food supply¡¯s predictably fucked, so we¡¯re doing what we can to keep people fed. That means setting up a quick and dirty business. We¡¯ll be paying you all minimum wage, because fuck if I know where I¡¯ll get the money to pay the lot of you. But it comes with a few bonuses. For one, passes to get you to and from work, as many shitty burgers you could want, and, uh...¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I sent a quick text to Myalis. What the fuck can I offer these people? Protector-grade equipment is always popular. How about something simple and useful for their specific career? ¡°And you¡¯ll get a samurai-tech spatula,¡± I said. Spatulas were useful, right? ¡°Hell, you can get your name engraved on it and everything. Really fancy alien shit.¡± I predict about two points per spatula, assuming you merely want something that¡¯s at the peak of what material sciences can produce. Though, you might need a minor Cooking Implements catalogue. That seemed to win them over satisfyingly. One guy raised his flesh arm. His other arm was this huge metal contraption with a bulging biceps and three smaller arms sticking out from that. They seemed to end in different tools, which was neat. ¡°Shoot,¡± I said. ¡°Name¡¯s Cook,¡± he said. ¡°Was wondering what you wanted us to be making.¡± I nodded. A fair question. ¡°Follow me,¡± I said before spinning on my heel and walking across the floor. They followed, and I pitched my voice up so that they could hear me. At some point, Myalis must have grabbed onto the mall¡¯s stereo system, because my voice was coming from those too. ¡°So, I bought this big fancy alien machine that turns this super cheap organic pulp crap into actual edible food. It¡¯s not free point-wise, but it¡¯s pretty damned cheap. What it makes is what you¡¯ll be cooking. We¡¯ve taken over a few industrial kitchens across the city. The idea is to give people a meal they can order for free and get delivered at home. It¡¯ll keep people alive while we get rid of the last of the aliens.¡± I walked into one of the bigger restaurants in the mall¡¯s kitchen, chosen because it had some space. It didn¡¯t have space for seventy-plus nosey cooks, but there was nothing but a half wall separating the kitchen from the outside, so they could still see well enough, even if there was some elbowing to be near the front. With an eye roll, I turned on the camera in my augmented eye and then sent everyone in the vicinity the code to be able to piggyback with their own augs. Simple enough thing to do, but extremely stupid. It was pissing all over every cybersecurity standard ever to let people into your augs like that, but I¡¯d be impressed if they got anything past Myalis. Now that they could all see, I focused on the stuff we¡¯d made already. There were a few cardboard boxes full of ingredients. Lucy had some younger volunteers loading up the fabricators already. ¡°This is bread,¡± I said as I pulled out a round, flat bun and placed it on a stainless steel counter. ¡°This is some sort of fake-meat patty. And this is a veggie patty.¡± I slapped the other two onto the table. ¡°Not exactly fine dining,¡± Cook said. He was near the front and didn¡¯t look impressed. I shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s food. Hell, it¡¯s even somewhat healthy, even if it tastes like cardboard. Just... add some fucking ketchup. Hell... let¡¯s sell the condiments while making the burgers free. We¡¯ll use the money to pay you guys.¡± Man, this business shit was easy. ¡°How many of these Stray Cat Burgers do you think you¡¯ll be selling?¡± Cook asked. ¡°However many people there are in Burlington, times three meals a day, uh, a lot?¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m working on something else to help calm the needy down, and we do have proper food coming in. This is a stopgap, to make it so that no one ends up starving while we set things up. I don¡¯t want hungry kids on the streets. No point in beating back the aliens while people die behind the front lines because they can¡¯t get bread.¡± That seemed to make sense to everyone involved. The cooks didn¡¯t seem overly happy that they weren¡¯t making anything special, but hey, they had work while most people had nothing to do but sit on their thumbs. ¡°Jessica will be down in a minute or two to give everyone their assignments,¡± I said. ¡°If you¡¯re interested, stick around. And, uh, tell Jessica what you want engraved on your spatulas. You¡¯re doing the city a service, or something.¡± I nodded, then exited out the back without another word, because I didn¡¯t owe anyone any amount of small talk. Now, for the second part. I was dreading it already. *** Interlude - Chef Lucy Interlude - Chef Lucy Lucy looked up and met her own eyes. It was always strange to look at yourself through a camera while also looking through that camera with your augs. Slightly disorientating, though without any real dizziness or nausea. She blinked, then looked at the other camera. Yeah, they were all in focus. Good. The table was set. There was a hotplate, plugged in and ready to warm up. They had all the pots and pans they needed. Water was in a jug nearby, the other things were just to the side. The main camera saw it all too. Good good. She turned and took in the background. It wasn¡¯t much, just a plain window that overlooked one of the main roads of Burlington. They¡¯d put up curtains on the sides to mask it up a little. The main camera¡¯s angle would let people see the road and, more importantly, it would let someone enterprising enough to head outside prove that it was an actual livestream. Which it wasn''t. The window was placed in front of a high-definition screen filming another, actual window elsewhere. Lucy didn¡¯t need someone smart firing a rocket at their back while they did this. Cat was the best, but she was not even close to paranoid enough. Myalis: Catherine is on her way up. Lucy: Tks! She grinned. Almost time to start. There were a few ways she could do this, but really, she wanted it to be a bit... a bit poorly done? There was just something about jank that pissed off the corporate types and made everything a little more genuine. Across from her table were a few of the volunteer kittens that had some experience with this kind of stuff. She gave them a thumb¡¯s up, and then a quick count-down. In one of her aug¡¯s side-reels, she saw herself as the internet could now see her. A single dark skinned girl in a well-lit room in front of a bunch of cooking things, smiling at the camera and wearing some rather interesting cat-ear props on her head. The caption across the seven different streaming platforms she was sending this to was all the same. Stray Cat¡¯s Cooking Show! Feat. Lucy! Her grin widened. ¡°Hello, everyone,¡± she said. She currently has a hundred and seven viewers. Myalis helpfully showed her the number of actual, human viewers below that. It was more like just seven, but she could live with that number too. It would grow. ¡°This show¡¯s mostly for the fine people of Burlington, where Stray Cat, Gomorrah, and your three local samurai are hard at work keeping people safe. Today we¡¯re adding to that by making sure you¡¯re fed and safe too!¡± She had a live chat. It was almost immediately bombarded with ads and fake messages. And then Myalis struck, and Lucy could almost imagine some distant servers crashing and burning. It was like using a tank on a single ant, having an AI like Myalis on her side. In a blink, the chat was cleared of any interference. There was a large computer monitor turned on its side next to the camera with the chat¡¯s feed on it, not that she needed to look with her augs, but it helped the viewers if she looked at something before answering them. Made it more... real. At least, that was her experience from watching this kind of stream before. ¡°Every citizen of Burlington, heck, anyone within the Downtown region can order up a meal and have it delivered to your door for free. All you need to do is cook it up! So, to make that part easier, we decided to make this livestream to show you how!¡± Oh, she¡¯d just hit three figure human viewers, nice! Rika: What¡¯s this? Abbatoth68: Where¡¯s that? MarchallGod: The title¡¯s a lie BestFrenVenom: We? Alan Martin: She cute tho DaShoe: Show feet! She was about to go on when a door slipped open just a tiny bit and Cat slipped into the room. Cat moved... Cat moved the way Cat did. It wasn¡¯t something Lucy had never really seen in anyone else. Maybe some of the more experienced PMC sorts? But even they had a sort of militaristic swagger to them. Cat moved like her namesake. Slow, deliberate, with a slight shift to her hips that Lucy really liked and she had the strange habit of touching the floor with the tips of her toes first. It made her deceptively quiet for an otherwise loud girl. Her helmet was off, so Lucy got to see her eyes scanning everything before locking onto her. There was something very sharp about Cat¡¯s gaze, until it locked onto Lucy, then it instantly softened. Lucy felt her heart soften too. ¡°Hey,¡± she said. The people watching the stream must have been confused, she¡¯d just gone off script. She was clearly addressing someone off-screen, at least until Cat walked up to Lucy. Calloused fingers pulled Lucy¡¯s head up, a gentle touch along the line of her jaw that arched her neck back so that Cat could more easily capture her lips. Her other--new--arm fell down to Lucy¡¯s hip and squeezed. ¡°Mm, Cat,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Hey,¡± Cat said. ¡°I hate people and I absolutely don¡¯t want to do this thing,¡± she said. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Lucy smiled. ¡°We could put it off? Tell people to starve.¡± ¡°Urgh, but then they¡¯d complain about starving, and I¡¯d have to spend time telling them to figure shit out for themselves, time I couldn¡¯t spend with you.¡± ¡°Hmm, that¡¯s a dilemma,¡± Lucy agreed. ¡°I got you a hat,¡± she said. Sir Whale: hot Antimater Lobster: Wait, is that actually a samurai? For real? Devon7400: 10/10 cooking show Name Pending: NOOOOO My Gomorrah X Stray Cat ship! It sinks! Calob505: I like this cooking Cat blinked at the non-sequitur, then she let Lucy out of her grasp. Lucy picked up a big white poofy chef¡¯s hat, and placed it on Cat¡¯s head. ¡°I... how stupid do I look?¡± Cat asked. Her cybernetic cat ears twitched, which Lucy thought was adorable, but they didn¡¯t throw the hat off. ¡°You look very cute,¡± Lucy said truthfully. ¡°Yeah, no, I don¡¯t think I want people to see me in this,¡± Cat said. ¡°A bit too late for that,¡± Lucy said. Cat was a big dumb softy in some ways, but in others she caught on quick. She snapped her gaze around and locked it on the cameras one at a time, then she looked at the chat screen (Oh, they were well into five figures! And the number of blushing face emotes was nice!) then her gaze returned to Lucy. ¡°We¡¯re live?¡± she asked. ¡°Mhm,¡± Lucy said. ¡°You, uh, didn¡¯t feel like telling me?¡± she asked. Lucy smiled sweetly, that same smile that let her get away with a whole lot. ¡°I was getting there, but then you decided to be all romantic and sweet, and you stole my breath away.¡± ¡°Fuck,¡± Cat muttered. There was definitely a lot of warmth in her cheeks now, and the flush was distinctly not the fun, sexual kind that Lucy loved seeing. No, this was the fun embarrassed kind that had Lucy biting her lips to stop a mean giggle from escaping. Oh, Cat was going to punish her so hard for this later. Lucy was looking forward to it. ¡°So, Chef Stray Cat,¡± Lucy said. ¡°As I was telling our viewers, today we¡¯ll be cooking up something easy to cook. We only have a few minutes with our brave samurai, everyone, so let¡¯s not waste her time, hmm?¡± Cat, still flushing, cleared her throat, then looked from one camera to the other. It was cute to see her so flustered. ¡°Yeah, right. So, what are we cooking?¡± she asked. She was quick to roll with the punches. ¡°Mac and cheese,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Really? We¡¯re teaching people how to make that? Aren¡¯t the instructions on the box?¡± Cat asked. ¡°They are,¡± Lucy said. ¡°But you know how people are.¡± Cat rolled her eyes, something she was doing a lot now that she had two. Cat wasn¡¯t commenting on it a lot, but it was clear that she was silently appreciative of having two of those again. ¡°Yeah, fine. So where do we start?¡± ¡°With the instructions,¡± Lucy said. She smiled. ¡°They¡¯re on the box.¡± Cat bumped into her with her hip, and Lucy laughed as she stumbled closer to the ingredients. ¡°Right, I¡¯ll turn on this thing... like that. Are these pots clean?¡± ¡°No, I thought we¡¯d cook with dirty pots today,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Ah, yeah, get that real bachelor-chow taste going, rat droppings and all,¡± Cat agreed as she picked up an obviously clean pan and spun it around before putting it on the hot plate. Lucy handed Cat the water, which was in a large gallon jug. ¡°Every food order comes with a gallon of purified water, two boxes of noodles and a small container of milk,¡± Lucy said to the nearest camera. ¡°The first step is setting your water to boil.¡± Kirania3: Oh no, they¡¯re sassy Jonah94: How water boil? Arkimedes: Why water boil? Racheet: They¡¯re cute Majaguru: Sassy and sexy tho Inle68: lmao ¡°That one¡¯s hard to fuck up,¡± Cat said. ¡°Yeah, imagine someone forgetting that there was water in the pan and then leaving it to boil overnight?¡± Lucy said. Cat froze, then she turned a frown towards Lucy. ¡°Lucy, that was you.¡± Lucy laughed. ¡°But you got in trouble for it.¡± ¡°Only because that bitch didn¡¯t believe me!¡± Cat said. It was an argument they¡¯d threaded a number of times. They each knew their part, what to say, which memories to bring up, and why, even if it was all said before, it still made them warm. It was comfortable complaining about an easier time, when an overworked orphanage worker and a bit of boiled-off water was their biggest worry. They made mac and cheese, and it wasn¡¯t perfect. Lucy didn¡¯t measure the milk, and ended up not putting enough in. Cat added the macaroni before the water was boiling because she was too impatient to wait that long, and Cat complained at length about how only using one packet of cheese powder was for scrubs while Lucy tried to remind her of the times where they¡¯d ended up eating mac-and-no-cheese because of that very habit. It was nice, and in the end they got to enjoy a few bites of subpar food while a seven-figure audience watched and they both still pretended that it was just the two of them. *** Chapter Fifty-Seven - The Okay Before the Oof Chapter Fifty-Seven - The Okay Before the Oof ¡°When samurai work together, it¡¯ll either lead to greater success, or a lot more chaos. The personalities of various samurai tend to be quite different, and they also tend to share some commonalities. Those commonalities often include a distrust of others and of authority, and that makes it complicated for them to work together if there¡¯s a direct and clear hierarchy in place. Not that it hasn¡¯t happened and won¡¯t happen again. We¡¯re just stubborn sometimes.¡± --Laserjack, on samurai-samurai relations, 2054 *** Things were going... alright. I was a little tired after running around all over the place putting out fires, but it seemed that, at least for now, the city would hold up. And just as I was thinking that, I got a call from Gomorrah. ¡°Hey,¡± I said as I answered. I was still at the mall, having just finished up a... I supposed it was a presentation, with Lucy. I didn¡¯t have concrete plans on where to go next. ¡°Hello,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I¡¯m on the lake-side of the city, by the walls. Things are getting a little... uncomfortable over here. I think we could use your help.¡± I nodded. ¡°Sure, I¡¯m on my way. Just send me your coords and I¡¯ll be there in ten, faster if you think it¡¯s an emergency.¡± ¡°We can afford to wait ten minutes,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Things aren¡¯t that dire yet. But yes, I¡¯d appreciate having you here.¡± I nodded, cut the call, then sent a text to Jessica. The sexbot had become Lucy¡¯s secretary of sorts. At least as an android she was quick to reply to texts and such, much faster than a person, even if she lacked some social graces sometimes. She replied instantly to my request and said that a car would be waiting for me outside. Pretty handy, that. I checked my gear as I headed out. I had my armour on, and it was reading all green on my HUD. Its batteries were down to 89% but I figured that was a non-issue for now. My railguns were down a few rounds, so I got Myalis to top them up, just in case. Then I checked on my laser pointer. It was currently full of... flechette rounds. Yeah, that would work for now. I had a couple of grenades on my belt. Resonators, garrots, one of those black hole bombs for a tight situation. My handgun was strapped to my thigh and full of ammo, and I had my coat on top of everything. I checked that my helmet was on correctly as I walked out of the mall, then found the car that was going to bring me out to the front. It was one of those econocars, a tiny little electric thing that ran off of a lawnmower engine and that had a top speed that was in the double digits. The inside had room for two if they were willing to get comfy with each other. I wanted to complain, but then that would waste time, and then I¡¯d need to find another way over and... ¡°Hey, didn¡¯t I order my bike down to here?¡± I asked. Some time ago, yes. ¡°Then where the hell is it?¡± It has been hovering around the edge of the city for a few hours. I¡¯ve been using it as aerial surveillance. I frowned. Then sighed and just climbed into the car. ¡°Get it down here,¡± I told Myalis before looking at my driver. He was some guy about my age, freckle-faced and sweaty behind the wheel, which he held with a death grip. Yes, I could have waited for the bike. That would be a minute or two of waiting, and this car was already here. ¡°Punch it,¡± I told him. He did, and we... more or less accelerated ahead. I regretted not taking the bike. This little coffin car could barely hit highway minimum speeds, and that was when it had a long time to accelerate up to those speeds. We didn¡¯t have room for that in the stop-and-start Downtown area. ¡°You know, you can just gun it,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s against the law, ma¡¯am,¡± my driver said. I frowned. Ma¡¯am? I didn¡¯t mind it from the soldier-types since it was just respectful, but come on, he was treating me like I was some geriatric old biddy. ¡°Just punch it,¡± I said. ¡°Not like anyone¡¯s going to stop you, and traffic¡¯s dead.¡± I¡¯ll turn off the traffic cameras at the right moments. We made it to the front line wall in... not excellent time, but it was faster than I would have made it on foot. I squeezed myself out of the car, then hoped that no one had noticed me arriving in such an uncool ride. I didn¡¯t care that much about my image, but there were lines that even I didn¡¯t want to cross. It didn¡¯t help that my driver had decided to park next to Gomorrah¡¯s Fury. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. If the Fury was a person, it would be one of those super muscular pornstar sorts. The kind of person that you looked at and just knew that they fucked. I walked on past it, my little map pointing out where Gomorrah was. And also the other samurai. Arm-a-Geddon was with her, and so was Sprout. The only one missing was Manic, and I knew that she was still busy doing a grocery run. Gomorrah was talking to the other two, all three of them sequestered in what looked like a temporary guard shack of sorts just a few metres away from the front line. The militia¡¯s big mobile base was parked nearby, and I figured that Intel-Chan was in there too, doing their thing. The place was certainly busy, with plenty of volunteers moving gear around, militia gathered in squads, and less-organised kitten squads grouped up and looking aimless. ¡°Hey,¡± I said as I got closer to the other samurai. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± ¡°Hello,¡± Gomorrah said again. ¡°Good timing, things haven¡¯t gotten desperate yet, but I think we¡¯re going to have to do something soon.¡± ¡°Hey, kitty cat,¡± Arm-a-Geddon said. He fired off some finger guns my way, and I decided to ignore him. Sprout just nodded at me, then reached out and rather awkwardly lowered Arm-a-Geddon¡¯s hands. ¡°Hello.¡± I used the time we were spending on the introductions to check out the overall situation. The walls had been tested all along their length through the night and early morning. Just probing attacks from the aliens. Nothing too hard to push back. That started to change over the last half hour or so. The aliens had started to concentrate their pushes along two spots. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Looks like they¡¯re getting serious.¡± ¡°More serious, yes,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I¡¯m getting a lot more activity from the lake too. The temperature rose three degrees overnight. Which isn¡¯t normal in the least, and it¡¯s only been rising faster since. There¡¯s some activity on the shore. Smaller models coming out of the water and running towards the city, but I think most of the movement is underground right now.¡± ¡°Fuck,¡± I said with feeling. ¡°What about the other hives?¡± ¡°Nothing from them,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Atyacus gives us a seventy-percent chance of having cleared them with our nanomachine attacks and that last big fire. We haven¡¯t seen anything from them, so I¡¯m going to assume we don¡¯t need to dedicate too much to worrying about them.¡± I nodded along. That was good. So our worry was now entirely about the underlake hive, which was basically sending more and more aliens our way. ¡°Do you have a plan already, or should we just dry the lake up and boil the fuckers?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s plan B,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°It¡¯s... somewhat extreme. I got some climate prediction software after what we did in New Montreal. If we burn off the entire lake¡¯s water supply, it¡¯ll... be pretty bad for the environment.¡± ¡°God, I can¡¯t imagine,¡± Sprout said. ¡°Boiling the entire lake would just destroy any bit of its ecosystem left intact. There would be no saving it once the antithesis are removed.¡± ¡°Okay, so that¡¯s plan B, fine,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s plan A? I noticed that a lot of people around us were starting to move differently, and the frequent retort of gunfire from around the wall picked up. It sounded like the aliens were testing us again. ¡°Plan A is to hold out until an expert arrives,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean that we can¡¯t do something at the same time. I think we should create a firewall.¡± ¡°Like on a computer?¡± I asked. ¡°Did you pick the term because it has fire in it?¡± ¡°I was being a little more literal,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°I have some explosives that can spray liquid fire around an area for an extended period of time. I want to create a wall between the antithesis and the city.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a stalling action,¡± I said. The aliens on the other side would just have more time to group up and grow stronger. ¡°There¡¯s more,¡± Sprout said. ¡°I have some new seeds I want to spread. They¡¯ll need some time to grow, but once they do, they can turn the lost part of the city into a deathtrap for the antithesis.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Sounds easy enough. Gom, you need help with those bombs? I¡¯ve got a few that might help with that wall of yours.¡± *** Chapter Fifty-Eight - Final Hours Chapter Fifty-Eight - Final Hours ¡°For long-ranged travel, the aircraft is still the best option, but as time progresses and hovercraft become more common, we are seeing a harsh decrease in commercial flights, especially more localised ones. A clever traveller can hop from city to city using different hovercar services for relatively cheap, and since the distance covered by a hovercar is significantly greater than that covered by a traditional car, we¡¯re starting to see the entire airline economy crumpling. Which is why we want to push for more luxury-based aeroplane accommodations. Let¡¯s jack up the price and make airline travel something for the rich and influential and those who wish they were both.¡± --Beta Airlines internal memo, 2031 *** Gomorrah volunteered the Fury to deliver her explosive payload, and I was totally okay with the idea that we¡¯d be dropping stuff onto the aliens from the relative safety of the air. But that would only cover a little bit, and I didn¡¯t want Gomorrah to be alone up there. ¡°Alright,¡± I said while we were all still in the planning... shed. ¡°Gomorrah, you get the Fury up in the air. I¡¯ll see if the militia has any hover cars. I can probably give them something to drop bombs with, and we can load them up with enough munitions to cover everything. I know you can just go up and keep dropping things, but I¡¯m worried that you¡¯ll just be one vehicle alone in the air.¡± Gomorrah shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a fair worry. I¡¯ll be closer to the water, and there might be larger antithesis that can fly in the lake. They might come out if they see the Fury dropping bombs along the shore.¡± ¡°Right, exactly,¡± I said. ¡°I wish we had more AA guns down here too.¡± ¡°Franny will be here in twenty minutes with another load of turrets from your place,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Really? That¡¯s not bad,¡± I said. ¡°She brought some in last night as well. I got the militia to install them across the city. They¡¯re not exactly strong, you know?¡± ¡°Yeah, but they can take out the weaker aliens without too much of a fuss, and they don¡¯t need a person controlling them to work,¡± I argued. More turrets would be nice, in any case. We could get them up on all of the buildings on this side of downtown. I wasn¡¯t sure if their range was enough to really help during bombing runs or anything, but they¡¯d certainly help if a flying car returned with some aliens on its ass. ¡°I¡¯ll chat with Intel-chan, get things organised. Sprout, do you need to be there to spread your, uh, seeds?¡± ¡°That¡¯d be ideal,¡± he said. ¡°But I think anyone could manage if you train them just a little.¡± ¡°Cool. Do you want to go out with Arm-a-Geddon here? Both of you working together should be able to stay alive.¡± I noted that he still had that gun I¡¯d given him a bit ago. Arm-a-Geddon had upgraded himself a bit. New arms, again, this time with what looked like several guns built into his forearms that I imagined could spring out of them. Not my kind of thing, but whatever. I bet it made him a bit tankier, and we might need that. ¡°We¡¯ll arrange a few squads, then. Maybe mix the militia folk with some of the kittens. They should be easier to get volunteers from to learn some, uh, advanced front-line gardening,¡± I said. Sprout nodded, and since he seemed pretty happy with that, I nodded myself. ¡°Good. Gomorrah, can you help with the bombs and such? I¡¯ll get in touch with Intel-chan right now. Oh, and can you direct Franny once she arrives?¡± ¡°When did you want to put our plan into motion?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Because it sounds like you have a lot of prep-work to do.¡± I considered it for a moment, then looked at the time. ¡°Call it... two PM, on the dot. That gives us just a bit over an hour to get everything ready.¡± ¡°I can work with that,¡± Gomorrah said. Sprout looked a bit nervous, but he had an hour to get over those nerves. In the meantime, I stepped out and headed towards the wall. Just because I had a lot of calls to make didn¡¯t mean that I couldn¡¯t help on the wall a little. I made two calls at the same time. One to Intel-chan, who¡¯d get me in touch with all of the militia, and another to Jennifer. Neither call had time to ring once before they picked up. ¡°Ohio, Neko-sama.¡± You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°Hello, sexy.¡± There was a long pause, then Intel-chan spoke up. ¡°Miss Stray Cat. Who is that?¡± ¡°That¡¯s Jennifer,¡± I said and I pushed the two boxes that had popped up with the images of the people I was talking to towards the side. Intel-chan¡¯s little vtuber avatar squeezed in next to Jennifer¡¯s... also an avatar, probably. ¡°She¡¯s Lucy¡¯s sexy robot secretary. Don¡¯t fall in love. Also, why did you call me sexy?¡± That last was directed to Jennifer herself. ¡°It¡¯s what Miss Lucy calls you in our internal notes,¡± she said. ¡°Also, I thought it was funny.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°Right, Maybe don¡¯t? Anyway, I need volunteers, maybe kittens, maybe not. People who know a bit about gardening and who aren¡¯t afraid of being eaten alive by homicidal aliens.¡± ¡°Finding people with gardening-related skills will be difficult,¡± she said. ¡°And not the other part?¡± I asked. ¡°Not really. Humans tend to have a strange relationship with fear until such a time as the fear-causing thing is already too close to be avoided. Where do you need these people? How many volunteers do you need?¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to send groups out past the wall to plant some stuff Sprout has cooked up. I don¡¯t want this to be a suicide mission, so we¡¯ll be sending them out in squads. Maybe one armoured vehicle each, with enough armed folk to keep our gardeners safe? So yeah, however many squads like that you two can arrange, that¡¯s how many volunteers we¡¯ll need.¡± ¡°I think we can supply some technicals,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°We have a number of cars free right now.¡± ¡°Good. Now, on the subject of cars. Does the militia have any sort of armoured flying vehicle?¡± Intel-chan¡¯s avatar bobbed its head. ¡°Yup! We have three pursuit VTOLs, and five heavy lift vans for troop transportation. We also have a number of police cruisers on loan. They have turreted weapons, but they¡¯re not designed to kill organics.¡± ¡°That might do. Bring them over here. We¡¯re going to turn them into bombers,¡± I said. Intel-chan clapped. ¡°Oh, nice. You¡¯re going to get a ton of volunteers for that.¡± Yeah, that tracked. Giving a bunch of people access to heavy-ordnance and telling them to drop it onto the heads of the pesky aliens below was always going to be popular. ¡°Just get the cars over here, I¡¯ll figure out a way to set them up to drop bombs. And remind our new bomber pilots that this shit¡¯s dangerous, we don¡¯t have good AA.¡± ¡°Noted,¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°Still gonna get lots of volunteers. Expect the cars within the hour.¡± ¡°Make it faster than that, we¡¯re starting the bombing runs at two PM.¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s soon, I¡¯ll have everyone hurry up, then,¡± they said. ¡°When do you need the gardeners?¡± Jennifer asked. I shook my head. ¡°Ideally they should be here already, but we can¡¯t have that. So just get them over as quickly as possible.¡± There were some scaffolds set up on the inner side of the wall, with ladders slanted at an angle to act as OSHA-violating steps so that people could carry stuff to the top of the barricade. A few heavier-looking machine guns were set up there already, rattling away as they sprayed at what I hoped was a horde of aliens. I ran up the ladder, tail swaying automatically to keep me balanced, then I climbed up another level to see over the top of the barricade. There were heaps of alien bodies strewn across an otherwise empty street, with more aliens charging down from around the corner. There were lots of them, but it was far from one of those endless tides like I¡¯d seen in New Montreal before. This was more of an endless trickle of lower-tiered models. It was more than what they¡¯d been seeing the day before, however, and that was concerning all on its own. We had three guns firing nearly non-stop up here, with pauses only happening when they needed to reload or change belts. Eventually we¡¯d run out of ammo. Maybe before the aliens ran out of bodies. I wasn¡¯t liking the math here. I flung a couple of grenades ahead. Just a few plain old resonators, to help melt the bodies that were piling up before they could turn into makeshift barricades. I made a note to leave some better nades behind too, in case bigger, meaner aliens started to show up. Even some in the early double-digit range could really mess things up. Meh, we¡¯d be fine. We just had to hold out for a little while longer. I was feeling pretty good about our odds. *** Chapter Fifty-Nine - Enjoying the View Chapter Fifty-Nine - Enjoying the View ¡°Why? Because this piece of shit runs off the same trash software some guy made in his mother¡¯s basement in the fucking eighties! That¡¯s why!¡± --About modern printers, 2057 *** It¡¯s going to have to be a custom job for each one. I frowned, but it made sense. I had three cars sitting before me and five armoured vans. The cars were all sharp angles and boxy frames. They looked like they could move fast and punch through reinforced walls with ease. The kind of overly manly design language that got the little knobs of cops around the world all hard. Having the Fury parked nearby kinda ripped the wind out of their sails, however. These things were at best armed with piddly little turreted autocannons designed to punch cars out of the air. They might have been police pursuit vehicles, but they weren¡¯t rated to do much against the antithesis. The five vans parked behind them were a bit better. I noticed three distinct models there, but they all followed more or less the same design language. Rounded fronts as a slight concession to aerodynamics and a big bulky box of a body with side-opened doors. Three of them had side-mounted turrets with the guns missing. A few techs were installing them in a hurry, though. Yeah, those would do. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. There was a gathering of pilots and volunteers from the militia nearby. ¡°We¡¯re going to arm up the vans with something to drop bombs. You¡¯re going to need someone inside to reload the bomb dropping thing, but it should be able to drop them on the right spot.¡± I was half talking to these guys and half to Myalis. I didn¡¯t want to have to trust some bozo with dropping bombs. You¡¯d have to be a special kind of stupid to give someone with no training access to exotic explosives. Clearing my throat, I gestured to the three pursuit vehicles. ¡°We can add a cheap laser turret onto these. It¡¯ll make them a bit better in the air. That autocannon looks like it¡¯s enough to take out some of the earlier double-digit aliens without too much trouble.¡± Franny was arriving soon, and it wouldn¡¯t be too hard to divert three of those turrets over. Plus it would save me a few points. I walked over to each van in turn and scanned their interiors with my augs to give Myalis a good idea of the amount of space we were dealing with. Then I ordered up the bomb-dropping mechanism for each. They were a hundred and twenty points each, which... I wasn¡¯t sure if that was a ripoff or not. Each was relatively large, able to fit into the door and block it completely, with a sort of deployable tube thing on the side to actually drop the bombs from. Of course, I left the installation to the nearby techs, just scanning the interiors for Myalis and ordering the shit was enough work for me. ¡°Will you be riding along with them?¡± Intel-chan asked. We had a voice channel up and running at all times now. The other nearby samurai were on it, but we¡¯d split things up into individual channels so that we wouldn¡¯t be bothering each other with constant chatter. There was a ¡®loud¡¯ channel where everyone would hear anything said, but that was more for emergencies. ¡°Nah,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll go with Gomorrah. The Fury is a much nicer ride and we¡¯ll want to see what we can of the shoreline from the air. That¡¯ll be a lot easier with the Fury than in one of these cheap things.¡± ¡°Fair enough. We¡¯ve got as many volunteers as we need already, and a few more besides,¡± Intel-chan said. I nodded along. That much was pretty clear already. The area had picked up in activity, there were a lot more people standing around or trying to look busy than before. I was a little worried about the friction between the militia and the kittens, but so far it wasn¡¯t all that bad. The kittens seemed to lean more towards the... I guess ¡®casual¡¯ side of things, especially whenever the militia were around. And on the opposite end of the spectrum, the militia were walking with an even stiffer rod up their asses whenever they passed the kittens. Typical monkey ¡®my group¡¯s better than yours¡¯ behaviour, basically. Kind of weird seeing it from a distance, usually I¡¯d be there strutting with the rest of them. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Alright, the bombers were being set up... we still needed ammo for them to drop, which meant that I had to find Gomorrah. Fortunately, she wasn¡¯t that hard to find. Less fortunately, she was standing next to a familiar hover car, hands moving with uncertainty while Franny was bent over double to squeeze into the hovercar and remove folded up laser turrets that looked like they were fresh off the presses. I debated heading over or not for a moment before giving in and just walking to stand next to Gomorrah. ¡°Enjoying the view?¡± I asked as we watched Franny unfold herself from the car. It looked like one of the turrets had gotten stuck at the bottom there. Gomorrah straightened, then turned her featureless mask towards me. ¡°... I know that denying that I was looking would be pointless, but could you pretend that you didn¡¯t notice anyway?¡± I grinned, then shrugged. ¡°Sure. But you know, maybe she¡¯d appreciate knowing that you were?¡± I stepped towards Franny and gave her a little wave. ¡°Hey, how¡¯d the trip over go?¡± ¡°Not bad,¡± the redhead said. She brushed a few stray locks out of her face. ¡°I might have to delay the next trip, though. The New Montreal police didn¡¯t want me flying out of their airspace and they barely bought my story about delivering supplies to here. Same when I crossed the border. And there¡¯s a lot of flying aliens in the air going around in flocks and hitting random vehicles. It¡¯s really not safe, except for in big circles around most cities.¡± ¡°Shit,¡± I said. ¡°We should have given you something to get the law off your back.¡± ¡°The Family actually stepped in,¡± she said. ¡°So it wasn¡¯t all that bad. And there¡¯s a few apps that¡¯ll tell you where the biggest sightings of fliers were. It was worth the credits to get them, I think.¡± Of course, someone was monetizing that. ¡°Well, glad you¡¯re here. If you want, Lucy¡¯s over at the mall. She can find you a place to stay. She¡¯ll definitely put you to work, though.¡± Franny shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not averse to a little hard work. Next batch of turrets should be ready in about twelve hours though. We got the kittens working on loading up the machine. Rac sourced a bunch of supplies too.¡± There was a bit of warm pride in my chest at hearing that. My kittens were doing good work. Not that they were really mine, but whatever. I¡¯d take credit for basically raising them as long as they were doing good. The moment they fucked up, I¡¯d pretend I had nothing to do with it, of course. ¡°Hey, can you set aside three turrets for the interceptors? We¡¯re going to be using them to keep the bombers safe,¡± I said. ¡°Ah, speaking of which. Gom, as much as I¡¯d love to see your bumbling attempts at flirting, do you think you can put it off for a little bit? We need to discuss bombs.¡± Gomorrah¡¯s shoulders moved in a way that suggested she was sighing. Was it because she was sad that she wouldn¡¯t get to flirt, or was it something else? ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s fine,¡± she said. ¡°Franny, you probably should go see Lucy. I think she could use the help. Cat here keeps giving her more work.¡± ¡°Hey,¡± I complained. Wait, was that true? Was I overworking Lucy? Fuck, I wasn¡¯t even paying her, was I? How much was a person like Lucy worth? Organising an impromptu army, putting down dissidents, arranging to feed an entire city, and running a PR campaign at the same time... Double fuck, I wasn¡¯t making enough money to afford her at all, was I? ¡°So, I was thinking of keeping it simple. Longer lasting firebombs. Atyacus has a few chemicals that will burn for days at a time. They¡¯re not as powerful as some liquids I have, but the duration is important here.¡± ¡°I think I can get Myalis to give me resonators that¡¯ll keep going for a long time and that¡¯ll be tough enough to endure the drop,¡± I said. ¡°I guess we¡¯re going to mostly aim for duration, then?¡± ¡°The problem is the spread, in that case. Even if our bombs overlap where they land, they¡¯ll only cover a relatively small area. It¡¯ll take thousands of them to create a complete barrier,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Tricky,¡± I said. Mostly, I was still thinking of how to pay Lucy back. Would foot rubs count? *** Chapter Sixty - Callsigns Chapter Sixty - Callsigns ¡°We need a new minority to pin things on. It¡¯s becoming increasingly difficult to blame trans people or the gay. I can¡¯t think of any new group to marginalise though. We have a few options, but none of them fit all of our criteria: 1- We need them to be relatively poor 2- We can¡¯t have that group be associated with us politically already 3- They need a distinct culture 4- They can¡¯t be a group that¡¯s well integrated with our own community 5- The less media representation they have, the better. We¡¯ll take care of first impressions. 6- If they have historical reasons for being disliked, then that would be a bonus. I¡¯m thinking we can have the people in the south turn against the French? There¡¯s a small but strong French community around New Orleans that we could pin things on. But then the actual French are pretty strong, so it could blow back against us. Ideas?¡± --Internal Memo from Rep. G. Tean, 2031 *** I jumped into the Fury next to Gomorrah and then settled into place. Around us, the borrowed vans were starting to rise from the road, and the interceptors were already in the air, flying circles above. There was surprisingly little talk as we got ready. I half-turned in my seat and checked out the bomb-launcher in the back of the car. Gomorrah had just installed it, and it was basically just a bigger, more complex version of the bomb-dropping device we¡¯d installed in the vans. There was an opening to place grenades into, so that¡¯s what I did. ¡°Right, we¡¯re going for longer-lasting things. And they need to survive the drop. Resonators are my go-to area-denial. Gomorrah¡¯s dropping fire. What else?¡± Perhaps explosives that are proximity-detonated? They can fill any gaps in the line, and when an antithesis tries to go around the fire left by Gomorrah¡¯s payload, they can detonate. ¡°As long as they don¡¯t go off when a person¡¯s nearby, that¡¯s not a bad idea,¡± I said. That¡¯s easy to arrange. Might I suggest some nyanpalm as well? It¡¯d be a shame to have created a whole new kind of flammable weapon only to leave it unused. I sighed, but she was probably right. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s not a terrible idea. Let¡¯s load this sucker up.¡± Points Reduced from 37,854, to 37,764 That stung a bit. Not so long ago I was in the 50-thousand point range. But that was before buying loads of food, more equipment, mounts, bomb-dropping devices and literally thousands of bombs. Oh, and some spatulas. If everything I purchased (spatulas aside) got used to murder aliens, then I¡¯d be back to where I was before, and probably past that. Gomorrah opened the driver-side door and slipped in. ¡°Is it loaded?¡± she asked. ¡°At one hundred percent,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ve got bombs for days.¡± ¡°Not really,¡± she said more seriously. ¡°We have enough to cover something like a four hundred metre stretch. Each bomber... van we have can cover another hundred or so. But the shoreline is several kilometres long.¡± ¡°Right, we¡¯re going to have to bomb and return,¡± I said. ¡°Unless you want us to do all the work from here? We can refill in mid-air, the vans can¡¯t, can they?¡± ¡°They can,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°It¡¯s a big purchase each time, but I can do it from here. I asked Atyacus about it. There¡¯s... rules about summoning items and where they appear. You can¡¯t buy an item and have it appear too far from where you are, but the vans should be able to fly into range.¡± That wasn¡¯t something I¡¯d ever thought about. I¡¯d have to annoy Myalis about it later. After all, buying a grenade and having it appear inside the nearest alien would save me having to throw the damned thing. ¡°Alright, I think Intel-chan¡¯s keeping a digital eye on our bomber¡¯s loadouts. We¡¯ll know when one of them hits empty.¡± Gomorrah nodded once. ¡°Are we ready then?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s hit it,¡± I agreed. Gomorrah brought the Fury up with a sudden lurch and I hung onto the little strap above the door. With a flick of a switch on my augs, I connected to the main communication channel being used by the bombers and interceptors. I supposed that that would be my job from now on. It wasn¡¯t like I could do much while Gomorrah was driving us around. ¡°Ah, this is God¡¯s Righteous Fury, we¡¯re airborne. The rest of you can start climbing. We¡¯re going to circle overhead, then head out to the shoreline for our first run. Intel-chan, you got the coordinates?¡± Intel-chan¡¯s voice popped onto the channel. ¡°Mapped out and sent to all pilots. Have fun! Pilots, all call signs, check in.¡± ¡°This is Nutcracker one, climbing,¡± one of the pilots said. I matched his location on my map, each van having an IFF. The vans had been numbered, but now their names were changing to match what the pilots were calling themselves. ¡°Rear Ender two, coming in hot.¡± You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°Cockpit Crusher three, rising.¡± ¡°Gorilla four, ready to ooga some boogas.¡± ¡°Oscar-Oscar-Foxtrot five, ready to bring the pain,¡± the last pilot called out. And I was surrounded by fucking morons. This was going to go fantastically. ¡°Alright, children, form up behind the Fury, and keep the line clear unless there¡¯s an actual problem.¡± I muted myself and shook my head. The pilots were all volunteers, sure, but they were all supposed to be professionals too. ¡°Are we good?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°We¡¯re peachy,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re starting the bombing run along the southern shore here, and heading northwards. Nice and easy-like. Arm-a-Geddon and Sprout are going to head out now too. They might call out for fire support if they need it.¡± ¡°We could help, sure,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°How are you on points?¡± ¡°Not bad, but I¡¯ve been spending them fast. Kinda hoping this¡¯ll refill me, you know?¡± Gomorrah nodded along. ¡°I understand. Still, points not spent are points wasted.¡± ¡°I guess,¡± I said. ¡°I have a hard time justifying the spending. I dunno. How about you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m saving up for something big,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Something that¡¯ll let me punch far above my weight class.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± I asked. ¡°What would that look like?¡± ¡°I¡¯m thinking a warmech.¡± I blinked. That was... something. ¡°How big are we talking here? Because warmech sounds bigger than, like, power armour. The kind of shit you¡¯d expect to see from a top-tier samurai who isn¡¯t holding back at all.¡± ¡°It¡¯s surprisingly worse than you¡¯d expect, actually,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°A big mobile weapons platform can only really be used in a few specific scenarios. It¡¯s like a tank. Sure, it¡¯s strong and can destroy things well, but most of the time we¡¯re clearing hives or clearing places room-by-room, or we need to navigate through a city. A tank can¡¯t really do that. A warmech has a few advantages, but not that many.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. It kinda made sense. ¡°But it¡¯s also a fucking warmech.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Perfect for fighting very large antithesis. Things in the upper twenties and thirties. And it¡¯s decent for defending a location if the location¡¯s safety doesn¡¯t matter that much.¡± I liked the idea, but it sounded expensive. ¡°Maybe I should get one.¡± ¡°It would go counter to your usual MO,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°The stealth part, at least.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure Myalis could get me an invisible warmech.¡± I certainly could. Your Sunwatcher catalogue actually has a few options. Sunwatcher? I supposed that made sense, that same catalogue had given me power armour before, so it having something larger wasn¡¯t too surprising. Do you want to peruse the catalogue? I¡¯m sure we could find something you¡¯d like! ¡°Are you just going to tempt me into buying something big?¡± I asked. I¡¯m pretty sure it will work too. A secondary screen opened on my augs, and Myalis uploaded a rotating image onto it. It was a highly detailed scan of a quadrupedal machine. It reminded me a little bit of the cat bots I¡¯d purchased before. Only this one had a small human figure next to it. The figure was just barely as tall as the warmech¡¯s legs. This model is made of reinforced titanium and aluminium, making it surprisingly light. It has twin 105mm cannons, a chest-mounted railgun, two 10mm Gatling guns mounted on its shoulders, a full sensor suite, and its tail and claws can deploy the same kind of blade as your Void Terminus. The pilot sits here, in the centre of the unit within an armoured and air-conditioned cockpit. The controls are entirely intuitive, and there¡¯s an onboard AI to help coordinate and balance the warmachine. I licked my lips. Fuck, it was kinda hot. "Alright, focus," I said, shaking my head to clear the thoughts of warmechs from my mind. "We have a job to do right now. Warmechs can wait." Gomorrah chuckled. "You''re right. Let''s get this operation underway and worry about the toys later." I nodded in agreement, and with that, we started our bombing run. The vans fell in line behind us, and we all advanced towards the shoreline, prepared to unleash our arsenal on the unsuspecting antithesis. We flew in a sort of arrow formation, the Fury at the front, with an interceptor on either side, then the vans behind in a trail with the third interceptor way at the back. We swept around in a big curve that lined us up with the shoreline, then Gomorrah brought us all down lower towards the ground until we were only a hundred metres off. ¡°Bombs away,¡± she said. There was a constant clunk-clunk-clunk as bombs dropped out beneath us. I watched through one of the car¡¯s rear cameras as we turned the otherwise peaceful shoreline, lined with waterside homes and old wooden piers, into a warzone. ¡°Beautiful,¡± I said. ¡°Nutcracker one, drop your load right after the end of ours, then pull up to circle. Rear Ender, you¡¯re next.¡± *** Chapter Sixty-One - KittyKopter Chapter Sixty-One - KittyKopter ¡°Deadvods are videos, usually uploaded to a site like Youtube or one of its competitors, which features a content creator doing... whatever it is that they normally do. Game, beauty, movies reviews, commentary on events, creating memes, uploading minidocumentaries... ect. On a mechanical level, they¡¯re not so different from a normal channel. Except that the creator is dead. The videos are pre-recorded. Often by an ill content creator, or one who is planning on taking their own life. They often make light of their own demise, using it as a macabre punchline which resonates well with an equally dead-inside generation of viewers. With the advent of greater deepfakes, the number of such videos, even created against the explicit desires of their once-living creators, had increased tremendously.¡± --On Deathtuber and Deadvods, Mox Article, 2027 *** The run¡¯s start was... not exactly textbook. Or maybe it would be textbook, if someone ever decided to write a book about perfectly mediocre combat manoeuvres that kinda worked but only barely. The Fury¡¯s run planted dozens of fiery explosions in a line across the shore, and the follow-up by the rag-tag group of vans elongated that line by... less than we¡¯d hoped. Mostly that was because even with decent tech helping our pilots aim, it didn¡¯t ensure that every bomb went off exactly where they were wanted. The line ended up being much thicker and shorter than what we¡¯d planned for, mostly so that the small gaps left between explosives were properly covered. Sucked, but that was how it was going to work out. We circled the air above the burning patch of coast for a while while Gomorrah and I spent points reloading the bombers and we prepared to come in for a second run. The smoke was going to make organic verification a little hard, but that was fine. The stretch we¡¯d bombed was about eighty metres long, which meant... we¡¯d be here for a while. ¡°Do you think we should split the bombers up?¡± I asked. ¡°Send each one further ahead to create more, smaller blocks?¡± ¡°They need to be within range for reloading. And that would mean that they¡¯ll be all spread out if the antithesis decide to show up,¡± Gomorrah said. I nodded along, not disappointed to have my idea shot down. I wasn¡¯t married to it. ¡°Alright, welp, let¡¯s keep at it.¡± I actually had very little to keep at. Gomorrah was the one doing the flying, and I realized that I was mostly just along for the ride at this point. Maybe I could have stayed back in Downtown to put out one or two more fires instead of sitting in the Fury to watch Gomorrah set some non-metaphorical fires alight. I decided to be at least a little productive. ¡°Myalis, do we have much of an idea of where the aliens are in all that water?¡± Not an exact idea. No. The best I can give you are estimates based on satellite surveillance and observations from climate-change analysis devices in the region. It all points to a rather large hive, but my data could be fooled. ¡°What could do that?¡± I asked, genuinely curious. While I am so close to perfection that mere humanity cannot begin to measure it, the human-made devices I have no choice in using are not so well-crafted. The same kind of sensors and analysis devices have been fooled by things such as geothermal venting and clandestine chemical dumping. ¡°Huh,¡± I said. That made sense. But it led to another question. ¡°Hey, is your obsession with cats something you have because they also think that they¡¯re perfect?¡± No comment. ¡°Alright, get me a little drone or something. Something small that¡¯ll handle the water. If we¡¯re going to do nothing, we¡¯ll do nothing productively.¡± ¡°I could turn on the radio, if you¡¯re bored,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°This thing has a radio?¡± I asked. She gave me a masked-face look that I shrugged off with the ease of someone used to that kind of ¡®are you a moron¡¯ kind of expression. New Purchase: KittyKopter Model One Points Reduced from 37,644, to 37,634 A small box plopped onto my lap and I popped it open revealing a small drone with a trio of off-centre propellers. They were those weird asymmetrical ones, with a loop missing out of the middle. It was black, with currently-pink RGB illuminating the inside of the prop rings, and the front had a little cat face sticker on it. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I rolled down the window with a press of a button, then flung the drone out the side while connecting to it with my augs. It took a millionth of a second or so, and then I had a second set of ¡®eyes¡¯ and a sonar system jacked into my hearing that painted a picture of the world around the drone. Pointing it towards the water, the drone paused for a moment in mid-air, spun itself around to face the right way, then zipped forwards, whisper-quiet so as to not interfere with its own sonar. Or was it just quiet because not being quiet would be stupid for a spy drone? Maybe a bit of both? The drone slowed considerably before hitting the water, but then it picked up the pace again. ¡°Got that heatmap?¡± I asked, and Myalis overlaid it with my vision. The drone angled itself to the side a little, and pushed towards the generated source of warmth. I saw some seaweed move by, and some underwater shit. There was surprisingly little trash once the drone moved past the edges of the shore. ¡°Looks like a normal lake to me,¡± I said. This lake was once home to a large number of fish. A prohibition on large-scale industrial fishing from the 1970s has been kept up to this day, and with few nearby factories dumping anything into the lake, this was one of the cleanest lakes in the North American region. Easily in the top fifty. It should be inhabited. I had the drone kick up the juice on its sonar and let my eyes go half-lidded as I listened. Gomorrah and the others were starting on their next bombing run already, but my attention was entirely on what I was seeing and hearing from the drone. ¡°No fishies,¡± I said. A disquieting fact, yes. ¡°Do you think the aliens got them all? Could they have? I can¡¯t imagine a model three with a little fishing line waiting for a fish to bite... okay, yes, I can imagine that... they¡¯d have one of those floppy hats with the little hooks on.¡± ¡°Cat,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Stop imagining the enemy as cute.¡± ¡°What, it¡¯s not like I wouldn¡¯t shoot them anyway.¡± The antithesis do have aquatic-specialising models, as well as modifications to existing models that make them more viable for aquatic environments. In this case, however, a large number of model ones could clear out a lake of this size in a few days to hours, depending on the number of them. Right, the bird-like ones were probably about as big as the average fish. I sat up straighter as something flew towards the drone. It wasn¡¯t creating much turbulence as it moved, but it was probably at least somewhat noticeable. I checked the controls, found the Evasive Manoeuvres option, and then toggled that on a moment before a model one tried to clamp down on the drone. Unfortunately for the bird, the drone was faster on the straightaway, and it shot away before it could do anything. The bombing run ended, and we almost immediately started on the next one. I was barely paying attention to that anymore. There was more than a single mean alien down here. The drone¡¯s sonar fired, revealing a lakefloor hive that stretched on to the very edges of the sonar¡¯s range. Large roots were all over, with heavy sacs next to them filled with unborn aliens. Corals, like pens for angry cows, held in thousands of smaller models while others moved along the surface of the hive. I saw a number of them pushing dead meat into bulging organic bags filled with whatever crap the hive was using as digestive juices. ¡°Ah, fuck,¡± I said. Worse was the large line of aliens slowly walking its way to the shore. I had the drone follow them, and quickly realized that it stretched almost all the way to the shore. At the head of the line were several model twenty-twos. Huge mobile hives currently encircled by entire flocks of smaller aliens. They were forcing their way through the water on six massive legs each. They were a concern all on their own. Any one of them planting themselves close to Downtown could wreck the entire place if left unchecked, spawning a ready-made hive in no time at all. But the even bigger alien, the one whose model number I didn¡¯t even know... yeah, that one had me a lot more worried. I sent the video I had to Gomorrah and felt her sitting straighter a moment later. ¡°That¡¯s going to be a problem,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re bombing the wrong damned place,¡± I said. ¡°And I don¡¯t think our bombs are big enough.¡± That warmech is still within your price range, Catherine. *** Chapter Sixty-Two - Quick Thinking Chapter Sixty-Two - Quick Thinking ¡°During the early 2010s, several companies ran this advertising campaign that encouraged people to name their children after a brand or corporation. These children would, in theory, benefit from discounts and rebates while shopping at those locations. Of course, that backfired spectacularly when most corporations forgot all about that by the time those children were old enough to purchase things themselves.¡± --Interview with Walmart ''Walt'' McDonalds, 2034 *** ¡°I have a plan,¡± I said. ¡°That was quick,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°The plan is that I¡¯ll jump out of this car and summon a giant warmech so that I can fight and hold off the aliens while you keep bombing the ground around me,¡± I said. Gomorrah paused for a long few seconds. ¡°I see now why the plan was quick.¡± ¡°Hey, it¡¯s got decent odds of success, I think. We need to slow down the advance of those bastards, and this¡¯ll let the vans continue to drop bombs along the shoreline.¡± The vans were coming around for another bombing run already, continuing the line that we¡¯d started already. Gomorrah and I had left them to it and were racing to where the antithesis were actually coming from, about a kilometre and a half further down. ¡°Fine,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Don¡¯t die.¡± I grinned. ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I promised. ¡°Myalis, how far can that mech you were talking about drop from, and can you summon it with me inside?¡± I see where you¡¯re going with that line of questioning, and while the attempt does sound spectacular, it also sounds foolhardy. The warmech I proposed earlier can drop from a height of seven metres without any issue. Above that it will suffer increasing amounts of damage from the fall. As for the summoning, yes, I could summon the vehicle around you in mid-air. Or you could politely ask Gomorrah to swing down and drop you off at ground level. I groaned, but she was probably right. It wasn¡¯t nearly as badass though, to be dropped off than to jump out of a moving car, summon a warmech around me, then land with that. ¡°Gom, can you drop me off... about over there?¡± I pointed to a spot some fifty-ish metres from the shore. There were some wooden piers over the lakeside where the water ended at a cet of cement walls. The piers stretched out over the water, and there were some restaurants nearby using them as sitting space. A few smaller models were already pulling themselves over the edge of the pier. Dog-like model threes, some tentacle-covered assholes too, and of course, a bunch of model ones were flying right out of the water and into the air for a short distance. A flock of these were hanging onto the rails, like seagulls on a wire, only worse in every way. Gomorrah brought the Fury down low and quick, the hood popping open to release a flamethrower which did flamethrower things to the nearest aliens. I waited for the fire to die down before stepping out. ¡°Stay safe,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re the one going out there,¡± she said. ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I said as I clicked the door shut. The Fury rose up past me in a wash of broiling air and I was left standing in the circle of burning pier over increasingly agitated waters. ¡°Gonna wanna back up a bit,¡± I said to myself. Are you ready? ¡°How much is this going to cost?¡± I asked. The more you put into it, the more you¡¯ll get out of it. That was fair enough, I supposed. ¡°What¡¯s my point total right now?¡± I asked. Current Points: 37,634 I let out a long breath. ¡°What was that big model? The really big fucker that I saw with the Kittykopter. That was a model twenty-eight. It is worth six hundred points if you manage to kill it. A rapid estimate suggests that the entire value of the antithesis column moving in your direction is close to twenty-five thousand points. I worked my jaw, then watched more model threes start to climb up onto the pier. No time to waste, then. ¡°Myalis, sink twenty K into that warmech, and make it fucking fantastic.¡± Understood. Summoning a Mark IV Mechcatular Nyanzerfaust. Prepare for arrival. ¡°Wait, it¡¯s called the what?¡± I asked. Then I was interrupted by a glimmer from above. By the time I started to look up, the thing was already crashing down onto the ground next to me. The burst of wind from its passing kicked up the flames all around me and its landing buckled and splintered the pier, sending wooden planks flying into the air. New Purchase: Mark IV Mechcatular Nyanzefaust Points Reduced from 37,634, to 17,634 The robot was three metres tall and twice as long, all black and chrome and pent up violence. Its eyes lit up, pink and bright then the light washed out across its entire frame, skimming along its sensor-whiskers, then along its mane and through its body. It flashed as it reached each individual paw and glowed faintly for a moment as it touched the thagomizer on the mecha¡¯s tail. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. It was was several tons of composite, alien armour and corded artificial muscles, and it looked like it could fuck any antithesis¡¯ day up. The mech turned its head my way, locking eyes with me, then it bent down in a feline bow, the plates along its neck hissing apart to reveal a seat surrounded by control surfaces nestled deep within the mecha¡¯s body. ¡°Ah, fuck yeah,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m feeling, Myalis, but it¡¯s a good feeling.¡± It¡¯s a little disturbing, actually. I planted a foot on one of the slid-back armoured plates, then leapt up and into the cockpit. ¡°Just don¡¯t tell Lucy.¡± That you were turned on by a multi-ton warmech? ¡°...Actually, maybe Lucy would understand,¡± I admitted. The cockpit and the mech immediately linked up with my augs and my vision filled with a confusing mess of commands and controls. Fortunately, the one to close the cockpit was dead centre, and I tapped it. The armour slid back into place, and the inside closed up fully. I could feel it going airtight with a faint pop in my ears. Then a whisper-quiet hum filled the space around me and the air started to taste different. The seat shifted suddenly, and I almost gasped before I realized that I was meant to be laying on my stomach, legs braced into a pair of holes and chest pressed up against a soft cushion. My hands naturally fell onto a pair of joysticks surrounded on the outside by dozens of buttons, and the world around me opened up as a projected screen came to life. ¡°Fuuuck,¡± I muttered. This was some top-tier sci-fi b-movie shit. ¡°Uh... how do I pilot this?¡± It has an autopilot, though it is designed to be fully controlled by the person riding within it, otherwise you might as well exit the vehicle and just let it fight on its own without any added weight. ¡°Ouch,¡± I said. There are tutorials built into the mech to teach you how to fly it. ¡°How long do I have before that model twenty-eight shows up?¡± I asked. Approximately two minutes. I nodded. ¡°How long¡¯s the tutorial?¡± Significantly longer than two minutes, Catherine. This is a full-on stealth capable warmech. Piloting it without assistance makes piloting a modern main battle tank look like riding a tricycle. The upside is that the wide control range means that a pilot can do some spectacular things with a vehicle like this one. I ground my teeth. Sure, letting the autopilot take care of things would be fine... but I really wanted to do the piloting myself. It was too cool not to be something I wanted. And I could just imagine the ladyboner Lucy would get once she found out. ¡°Do you have one of those implantable knowledge things?¡± I asked. For a few points, certainly. I rolled my eyes. ¡°Really, Myalis?¡± Actually, the Mark IV Mechcatular Nyanzerfaust comes equipped with its own learning architecture. All you¡¯re missing are the neural uplinks to truly make use of it all. ¡°Fine,¡± I said. ¡°But nothing too intrusive. Call it two hundred or so points? I¡¯m feeling cheap right about now.¡± New Purchase: Internal Neural Uplink System Points Reduced from 17,634 to 17,434 What Myalis got me came in the form of a small, boxy syringe with the words PRESS TO FOREHEAD written on one side. I did just that, and immediately felt a wave of cold washing over my head, like a sudden brain freeze. Little tendrils raced across and out of the box, and I almost ripped it away only to realise it was stuck there. Then my head vibrated for just a moment and I was hit with a sudden sense of deja-vu. System installed. There should be a new jack along the back of your ears. You¡¯ll find a connector on the ceiling, jack it in. I felt at the side of my head and found what she was talking about, a tiny pinprick hole that hadn¡¯t been there before. ¡°Wait, did that drill through my skull?¡± Just a little bit. Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s stronger than it was before. I frowned as I tugged the jack out of the ceiling and shoved it into place. There was a noise, like connecting one of those old aug cables, then... then I felt myself. My vision doubled. I was at once in the cockpit, and also seeing out of the eyes of the mech. I moved my arm back into place, then raised a paw. ¡°Whoa,¡± I said. This... was fucky. And unfortunately, as the pier exploded out around me, I was out of time to explore that fuckiness. *** Chapter Sixty-Three - Mechcatular Nyanzerfaust Activate Chapter Sixty-Three - Mechcatular Nyanzerfaust Activate ¡°Knowledge download tech was seen as a massive step forwards in the early 2030s. It allowed someone, anyone, to instantly become an expert in a specific field. Things like learning a new instrument or a new language in an instant is fantastic, and all it costs is a small fortune, but sometimes that price is worth it. A thousand hours spent learning Spanish, or thirty-thousand USD? What¡¯s worth more to you? Tons of people signed on and got those early operations, and initially everything was fine. Then the downsides started to show up. What happens when your brain suddenly has a lot of new data with no concrete memories to go with it? It starts to make things up to fill the gaps. People imagined, and believed, in entire false backstories that didn¡¯t mesh with reality just to match the knowledge they now had. Then you had what we started to call PBS, or personality bleed syndrome, which is still barely understood, and yet can lead to all sorts of new and terrifying mental issues.¡± --Doctor Lopez, McRill neurosurgeon in an podcast interview, 2037 *** I jumped back, all four legs spreading wide even as they opened up and the jet engines mounted into them fired. It wasn¡¯t enough thrust to lift me up, but it was enough, combined with a backwards leap, to send me flying off the pier. I landed roughly on all fours, claws digging furrows into asphalt until the mech came to a full stop. I paused then. All of that had been reflex. Like twirling my arm to stop myself from falling after catching my foot in a carpet or something. It was all done without thinking. And that would be fine, usually, only it wasn¡¯t my body that I¡¯d moved, but the warmech¡¯s. I ran over every action I¡¯d just taken. There had been several inputs on the two joysticks, and I¡¯d pressed it on the foot pedals a few times too. Fuck, I hadn¡¯t even known that this cockpit had foot pedals a moment ago. ¡°Myalis, this is some weird shit,¡± I said. It can take a moment for newly uploaded knowledge to begin to feel natural. If you dislike the feeling, then we can always focus more on training modules in the future. Several vanguard have suggested a strong dislike of memory downloads in the past. ¡°Yeah, I can see why,¡± I said. It didn¡¯t feel wrong, but it sure as shit didn¡¯t feel right either. A tool then, neutral depending on how it was used. For something like this, needing to learn something right then and there with no time to practice or do things right, that was acceptable, I supposed, but it still felt off. If I had learned how to move this mecha myself, would I have moved the way I had just then? How much of me was there in my actions if they were actions downloaded from some file or something. I didn¡¯t like it, basically. Well, no, that wasn¡¯t entirely truthful. I didn¡¯t like the mind fuckery bit. But piloting a multi-ton warmech so well that I was practically dancing between explosions? That was fucking awesome. My thumb flicked across a little wheel mounted on a joystick and with a three-button prompt, the shoulder of the warmech unfolded and a pair of multi-barrelled Gatling guns locked into place. My vision split into three, two of the new screens allowing me to aim and lock the guns on the pier ahead. When the smoke cleared, it revealed a large model eighteen ripping its way out of the wooden pier. Smaller models were using it to rush out of the water in droves. I locked both guns on the massive monster, felt two triggers pop out of the joysticks under my index, and I pulled. There was an impossibly loud pair of Brrrts and the entire mech had to take a small step back to compensate for the recoil. I only fired for half a second, but my ammo counter had dropped by three hundred rounds. The smoke cleared, and the big model eighteen was still clearly alive. A lot of the smaller aliens around it, however, were paste. ¡°What does this fire?¡± I asked. 10mm rounds. Very small and economical, but not nearly as impactful as larger rounds. You¡¯re firing a mixture of armour piercing, hollow point, and ultra-heavy rounds, as well as phosphorus tracer rounds. I stepped to the side and fired at the crowd of aliens again, sweeping the fire from left to right quickly. That was enough to saw one of the big alien¡¯s legs right off and it ripped apart any of the smaller ones hanging around it. I could live with this. The pier fell apart entirely as the model eighteen finally died. The posts on the edge broke apart, and a chunk of the walkway next to the pier was ripped back and dragged into the water with a heavy splash. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. I started to pace along the shore, shoulder-mounted guns sliding back into place while I got used to the strangely flowy motions of the warmech. It wasn¡¯t like riding in a car. There was too much up-and-down motion for that as the mech walked, but it wasn¡¯t as jarring as I might have feared. I scrolled through the weapon options I had while I was at it. Two 105mm cannons on the sides with some slight amount of manoeuvrability. They were in the cat¡¯s ribs, more or less, so when they deployed I could aim them forwards and down. The railgun basically fired out of the cat¡¯s open mouth, but its barrel ran along the entire length of the body with... with the gas release in the rear. Fucking Myalis. There were some warnings about heat management there too. The cockpit would warm up after every shot. I¡¯d live with it. The claws and teeth on this thing were similar to my sword in that they were basically double-sided portals with sharp edges. There was a similar set-up in the tail. And I discovered a set of deployable mortars in the cat¡¯s back, six chubby barrels that could unfold and launch basic grenades on parabolic arcs with a burst of compressed air. Basically, I had about as many guns as a modern tank, but I could move faster and claw shit to death, which made me objectively cooler. My ruminations on how awesome I was came to an end as the shore crumbled away even more and a large leg grabbed onto the edge and pulled. A model twenty-two rose from the depth, water washing off of its massive frame. Its downwards tilted face--a little too human looking, if dull--came into view as its four front legs clambered up onto the shore. More models were clinging to it, using the bigger monster as a living ramp to come onto the shore, though it was doing a good job of creating a more normal ramp already just thanks to its sheer bulk crumbling the waterside apart. I shifted, brought my mech low, then opened its mouth. If the antithesis were going to line themselves up for me, then I wasn¡¯t going to complain. I had a whole lot of points to make up for. The railgun charged in a split second, and I felt every hair in my body standing on end while I aimed the entire warmech¡¯s body at the biggest alien in the bunch. Then I pulled the trigger, and before I could register what happened to the alien, I felt the temperature in the cockpit jump up a dozen degrees all at once. It immediately started to cool down, but still. Damn. The alien got pretty hot too. I watched as it floundered, a hole large enough to crawl through punched right through its massive frame. The model twenty-two stumbled, then its eyes turned towards me and it let out a long, low note, like someone imitating a fog-horn with one nose plugged, only at actual fog-horn levels. The other antithesis started to rush forwards, and the sides of the model twenty-two opened up to vomit out dozens of smaller models all over the ground. It trampled on a few of those as it continued to move. ¡°How in the fuck is that still alive?¡± I asked. Decentralised nervous system, mostly. It¡¯s essentially a mobile hive, after all. Try your cannons. The first two rounds are high explosive. They should help to carve into the model twenty-two. My cannons slid out of the warmech¡¯s sides and I barely had to aim before opening fire. Surprisingly, the kick from these was easier to handle than the kick from the Gatling guns. It was just a question of shifting the mech¡¯s weight down a little after every shot as opposed to fighting back against constant recoil. I fired a round from each cannon, this time paying a lot more attention to the hit itself. Both rounds punched into the mass of the model twenty-two, then almost immediately exploded, sending fire and plant guts and shrapnel flying. The model twenty-two, now missing three of its six limbs and a good chunk of its body, crashed to the ground. ¡°Nice,¡± I said as I checked my ammo. The cannons were magazine fed, with each internal magazine holding five rounds of high explosive armour-piercing gyro-stabilised discarding anti-personnel bullshit. ¡°What even are these rounds?¡± I asked. They¡¯re twenty-five points each. The primary sabot is surrounded by plastic-coated balls of cesium that disperse in a tight cone ahead of where you fire, ensuring that even if the main projectile misses, the target will still be peppered with supersonic projectiles that will immediately ignite. I watched as the number of aliens ripping themselves out of the water kept growing, even if a number of them were on fire. ¡°I hope that¡¯ll be enough,¡± I said. *** Chapter Sixty-Four - Getting Hot Chapter Sixty-Four - Getting Hot ¡°Why is it always giant mechs with those damned samurai? --Respectfully, sir, because they¡¯re cool.¡± -Exchange between staff sergeant and general, the Pergignan incursion of 2032 *** I hopped to the side, then swiped a paw forwards. With my claws fully extended, the void terminus blades simply moved through the space occupied by any of the aliens in their path, leaving nothing but chunks behind. My attention wasn¡¯t just on those nearby, however. I had half an eye aiming my twin Gatling guns which were both raining constant fire on any of the smaller models around. It only took a split second of concentrated fire to rip through an entire swarm of model ones, and barely any more than that to kill dozens of model threes. Which was good, because the antithesis here were really going all out with the numbers. A small siren rang in the back of my head and I fired up the jump thrusters in the mech¡¯s feet while pushing back with my... its rear legs, sending me and the mech flying back half a dozen metres. It was enough to avoid the exploding, tangled mess of an antithesis artillery ball. Where had that warning come from? A quick check of my systems showed that I¡¯d received a ping from the warmech¡¯s lidar system that had detected an oncoming projectile and beamed the warning right into my brain. I shook my head, and only realized a split-second later that I¡¯d made the mech shake its head too. This was getting weird. I wasn¡¯t exactly sharing most of my senses with the Mechcatular Nyanzerfaust, but a lot of its controls were linked to my augs, and I was controlling it with an ease and familiarity that was freaky. It was like getting dressed with the lights off while I knew exactly where I¡¯d thrown my pants. Or something like that. I was moving and acting and controlling this thing as if it was second nature, but I hadn¡¯t practised for it. Some bits of me were confused as hell. The rest of me really wanted to just kick back and have fun, because this was a fucking blast. I mechashifted my sides open and watched as a dozen model threes charged my way, each one of them salivating at the thought of taking a chomp out of me. So I deployed my 105mm guns and fired both. The explosion changed the minds of the aliens in a rather permanent fashion as it spread them over a couple of acres. The guns reloaded automatically, ejecting a pair of casings that I could fit my arm into with a very satisfying ker-chunk while I sprayed another horizontal sweep through the smoke the explosion had knocked up with my Gatling guns. ¡°Having fun?¡± Gomorrah¡¯s voice asked in my ears. ¡°Tons,¡± I said. ¡°Ready for a bombing run now. Going to do it right across your nose.¡± ¡°Uh,¡± I said. ¡°One sec, I¡¯m not sure how fireproof this thing is.¡± It¡¯s capable of enduring high heat, though your stealth systems do need to be within a certain temperature range to function correctly and some of your sensors will have to remain shielded. I¡¯d also suggest keeping your cannons locked up for the moment, they are not rated for direct flame contact. I tugged the guns back in. ¡°Should be okay, more or less,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I loaded up on weaker bombs than before. These are just kerosene cluster bombs. No hotter than an oven.¡± ¡°That¡¯s... awesome, thanks,¡± I said. ¡°I do try to think of my friends,¡± Gomorrah said. I watched the Fury fly low over the shore, tiny black pinpricks dropping out from beneath it and spinning through the air before they¡¯d burst apart and send even smaller specks flying every which way. Those ignited in the air just before hitting the ground. There were thousands of them. I stepped back a couple of paces, making room as small bombs, no bigger than my fist, exploded over the ground and spread massive circles of liquid fire around. The restaurants and other buildings along the shore weren¡¯t spared, and soon rooftops were blazing infernos and the entire close end of the pier was covered in a wash of low flames. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. I wasn¡¯t too surprised to find that the mech had thermal vision as well, though now it was made almost entirely useless by all the fire all over. I stood on the edge of the flames, watching the few aliens caught in them thrash and writhe as they died a no doubt awful death. The worst thing was how ineffective it was. A few of the slightly-larger models on the far end just turned around and jumped into the lake, then came splashing out a moment later, smoking and scarred, but still alive. ¡°How long is this going to burn for?¡± I asked. ¡°About an hour,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Long enough for me to drop better explosives along the rest of the shore. The others are working as quickly as they can as well. We¡¯ll have a full cordon up within two, maybe three hours. I left this corner weak since you¡¯re there to cover it.¡± ¡°Right, thanks,¡± I said. ¡°Keep safe up there.¡± ¡°Will do.¡± I saw the Fury wiggle from side to side before Gomorrah executed a half-loop turn and headed back the way she¡¯d come, probably to go help the bombers. Which left me here, with nothing but a small wall of flames between myself and a growing crowd of aliens that seemed reluctant to throw themselves into the fire. I saw the smaller models clinging onto the shore and the remains of the pier be joined by bigger, meaner aliens, and I decided to start taunting the bastards. First, by aiming at their artillery models, especially when one of them flung another of those needle balls in my direction and I had to move out of the way or get crushed by a large mass of spikes. I redeployed the 105mm guns and fired, letting the mech¡¯s auto-targeting software do most of the work after I highlighted the targets I wanted dead. And they did a fantastic job of making them very dead. That seemed to piss them off, at least judging by the way they all stared at me, some of them pacing the edge as if waiting. It struck me just how fucking alien these aliens were. They were too calm. Then the water behind them bulged out in two places. To the right came a model twenty-two, a mobile hive like the one I¡¯d just put down a few minutes ago. It clambered onto the shore with the ponderous movements of a lazy elephant and ten times the girth. Smaller flying models were already pouring off of it and taking to the air to swarm above. It pushed the entire line of aliens forwards, sending dozens to their deaths as they fell into the flames. To the left came that one model that I¡¯d only caught a glimpse of underwater. Now I could see it in the ultra-sharp contrast provided by my mech¡¯s sensor suite. It was long and tall, with a head half the size of my mech with jaws that looked like it could chew concrete and two very, very long legs that were longer than all the rest of it. The legs were really throwing me off, actually. The model twenty-three was a good two or three metres taller than my mech, but that was while it was crouched. This thing basically had chicken-style legs, with fat, armoured thighs and a skinny pair of forearms that looked way too human for comfort, even if their size was all wrong. Basically, it was a fucking t-rex if a t-rex could be made out of weeds. The alien swivelled its head, and its too-many eyes locked onto me across the sweltering sheen of fire between us. Then it ran. ¡°Is that thing fireproof?¡± I asked. Yes. ¡°Fuck!¡± I quickly aimed right at it and fired from both cannons, then watched in disbelief as one of the rounds ricocheted right off its thigh with nothing to show for it but a small explosion and some light searing. The other punched into its chest and did fuck-all. You might want to move. This mech isn¡¯t rated to resist the biting force of a model twenty-three. ¡°Got it,¡± I said. Didn¡¯t need to be told twice. I turned, fired a parting shot with the one cannon still able to turn enough to shoot towards it, then I tucked the guns away and took off running. We were in a residential area, with plenty of lake-side apartments and nicer homes with little lawns. I¡¯d have to see if I could get this thing to lose me in all of this mess so that I could punch a hole through its ugly head. *** SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner - Above the Clouds - By Luke W. Logan Above the Clouds - By Luke W. Logan The Empyrean Hotel, Casino & Spa sits in a geostationary orbit 35,787 kilometres above the Earth''s equator. A seamless blend of Vanguard technologies and human ingenuity, the Empyrean''s facilities boast unmatched levels of luxury without ever compromising on security. With literally thousands of kilometres of deadly vacuum between you and any unwanted guests, when you stay at the Empyrean you can truly relax; safe from incursions, ex-(and current)wives, paparazzi, and tax authorities! Single suite rooms start at $5000 per night. ¡ª The Empyrean Hotel, Casino & Spa''s promotional pamphlet. #### Gomorrah stalked the streets of River Heights burning mansions and estates with an irreverent glee that could be seen through the reflective faceplate of her armoured helm. The camera angle cut from directly above to offer close-up¡ªand frequently provocative¡ªshots of her lithe form as the Samurai made her way through an upscale neighbourhood that had been considerably less on fire only a few moments before. The AI rendering the various camera angles tended to get a little carried away, and some perspectives were considerably more gratuitous than others. In many ways, it was like watching an anime with a serious fan-service problem, in others, it was just a total violation of Gomorrah''s personal privacy. Deepfaking a Samurai was an especially dangerous and illicit endeavour. But here on the Empyrean''s casino floor, using spy satellites and AI to spice up real-time arson was amongst the least of Management''s many sins. A rolling bar of text scrolled along the bottom of the screen calculating the approximate property damage so-far and offering decreasingly favourable odds for those who could correctly guess the final value of Gomorrah''s napalm-spraying spree. A cluster of middle-aged guests watched the footage with rapt attention, collectively wincing when the feed cut away to different¡ªless popular¡ªSamurai engaged in more mundane forms of frantic violence. The camera always switched back after a few minutes of flashy ultra-violence. Newer Samurai were far safer to spy on, and the pyro-nun was insanely hot¡ªpun intended. I tore my gaze away from the screens showcasing Gomorrah''s beautifully lit arse just in time to avoid braining myself on an open car door. The culprit of my near-miss was the slowly rotating vehicle taking up a considerable amount of space within the casino floor. My free arm windmilled ungraciously while the drinks balanced in my other tilted precariously. The instincts I''d honed through five gruelling years in the service industry saved both them, and a few days'' worth of docked wages, as I righted my tray, and kept the overpriced liquors in their respective glasses. I also avoided falling into the first sports car launched into space, but that would have just been humiliating rather than financially eviscerating. I glared at the bright red vehicle and promised myself vengeance should I ever discover a time machine. Somewhere in the not-too-distant-past, Space Karen was enjoying themselves having sent the electric vehicle into orbit and I couldn''t let that stand. I understood it was just the refurbished leftovers of a fifty-year-old publicity stunt, but now that it nearly killed me on a daily basis, I thoroughly despised it and its arguably beneficial legacy. Fucking, Space Karen. The few tonnes of antique steel and fibreglass that made up the refurbished vehicle¡ªnot to mention its constantly rotating podium¡ªhad been placed right in the middle of my preferred path from the bar to the screen lounge. Whichever genius from Management had decided to put the ''Car to be won!'' on the Casino floor, had yet to update the haptics in our trays. So when I daydreamed and let the gentle nudges guide me towards whoever was waiting on their drink, I frequently found myself walking directly into the bright red convertible. Despite my grumbles, I made it to my section without further incident. I then spent five minutes unloading my tray to a collection of wealthy gamblers with more money than taste. The haptics in my tray told me where to go, and the cameras in the ceiling made sure my pay would be docked for any mistakes I might make. This early in the day it was better to be seen and not heard. The guests primarily ordered through their augs, and then I would appear a few minutes later to hand over their beverages without a word. They very rarely tipped, but considering nobody tried to flirt with me, I didn''t feel like complaining. When my tray was empty, I took one last look at Gomorrah on the screens above before making my way back towards the bar. This time I pointedly avoided my inanimate nemesis and walked a little closer to the felt-lined tables where more respectable gamblers exchanged large fortunes over the turn of a card. A small part of me was jealous of the guest''s obscene wealth. The average bet made in this casino was more than twice my annual salary, but having worked at the Empyrean for so long, I had largely grown numb to the allure of wealth. Instead, I had become deeply afraid that the attitudes of the idle rich I catered to were representative of the majority, not the minority of those with true money. I had seen enough decadence and lack of basic human empathy from the politicians and CEOs who ran my world to last a lifetime. Management were bad, but the things I''d seen guests do while working a night shift made those sociopathic monsters seem like saints. Seriously, if you want to continue sleeping soundly in blissful ignorance, never work nights in a five-star hotel. The tips simply aren''t worth the existential dread. When I reached the bar, I set my tray down gently and sighed. "You okay, Gwen?" I looked up and saw Sybille smiling at me from behind the counter. She was the closest thing I had to a friend in the Empyrean, which was a big deal for me. Shuttles down to Earth were maddeningly expensive, and staff were effectively stuck in the hotel for six-month tours at a time. No matter how spacious the crew facilities were¡ªand ours were not spacious¡ªspending six months in an enclosed space with someone either made you friends for life or the direst of enemies. Given my¡ personality, I had cultivated a lot of enemies during my time at the Empyrean. Sybille was one of the few who''d been working here longer than me, and she was the only person who not only tolerated my quirks but actually seemed to like them. She called me ''neurospicy'' and while it made me feel more like an overseasoned taco than a person, it made me feel like her overseasoned taco. I could quite happily live with that. "I''m fine," I lied, not really meaning it but daring her to question me. "Do you have drinks for me?" "Yeah, you''ve got some big drinkers today. There''s a lot of old whiskeys to go back to the screens," Sybille said, placing the first of many tumblers on my no-longer vacant tray. The drinks kept piling up far in excess of what I was used to, and my eyebrows quirked upwards. "That''s a lot of booze." "Ten points to captain obvious." I blushed. "You know what I mean," I said defensively. "I do, but you''re fun to tease," Sybille replied with her usual smile. "Have you been paying attention to what''s actually going on in your section, or have you been sneaking glances at Gomorrah''s ass all morning?" "I¡" "Yeah¡ that''s what I thought." She chuckled, but there was no joy in it, and I couldn''t help but frown. "The world''s burning, Gwen. More so than usual. The high-ranking Samurai are MIA and all over the planet anathema are hunting people for food. These guys¡ª" Sybille gestured towards where the guests I was tasked to serve watched the Samurai fight aliens live on TV "¡ªare all politicians, shareholders, or captains of various industries. They''ll know better than most how bad it really is, and if you look, you''ll see that they''re all drinking. Heavily. Rumour has it there''s been talk amongst Management about dropping the hotel''s no-minors policy and start selling permanent suites to families¡" I scoffed. "And give up all the money they make from the joygirl floor? Please. It will never happen," I answered. "I dunno, Gwen¡ Rich people generally like their kids being alive more than they enjoy a quick tumble in the sheets with a well-compensated stranger. Besides, they can have families in the suites and keep the joygirl floor. It''s a big hotel," Sibylle said, and she wasn''t wrong about that last part. "Still, I can''t imagine this place with little brats running about." "Me neither, but times are changing." "You make it sound like it''s the end of days," I said. Sybille shrugged. "Maybe it is." There was a pregnant pause while my friend continued to pour expensive liquor we could never afford into crystal glassware we would never own. I looked back over at my section and tried to imagine the millionaires and billionaires who made up the Empyrean''s clientele indulging in their illicit vices while their families slept only a few hundred metres away, rather than thirty-five thousand kilometres they did now. I couldn''t see it. But then again, I couldn''t see a lot of things. I looked at their faces, searching for some of the fear Sibylle suggested was there. They looked¡ drunk, but that was about all I could divine. Maybe if I was normal rather than neurospicy I''d be able to understand facial expressions like Sybille could, but I struggled to maintain eye contact at the best of times and I had the social instincts of a turnip. If it wasn''t for my augs, I wouldn''t even be able to function in a place as loud and bright as the casino. But I had them, so it wasn''t a big deal. People though¡ they were still hard for me to work with. "Your drinks are ready," Sybille said. She was smiling at me again, but I didn''t know why she''d gone from being needlessly dramatic to overly friendly. I smiled back and made sure to look into her eyes for three full seconds, because that was usually the right thing to do. "Thanks," I eventually replied. I picked up my tray, now filled to the brim with heavy glassware and followed the haptics back to my section. Again they nearly guided me into that damned sportscar, and again I avoided an expensive spill by the skin of my teeth. I wove between the crowds while Gomorrah on the screens above wove between a swarm of flaming anathema. They barrelled towards her threatening death, whereas most of my customers only wanted their drinks. The few who wanted more, I evaded, displaying what I like to think of as a similar level of effortless grace to the pyro-nun I was so fond of. My tray was half-full when it happened. The floor lurched beneath my feet and I both felt and heard the tortured groan of metal shuddering through the Empyrean''s substructure. The lights went out, only to be replaced a heartbeat later by red emergency lighting and a siren blared its loud accompanying wails. My augs immediately kicked in, muting the worst of the noise and softening the glare while guests around me cried out in a panic. During the hustle of suddenly moving bodies, I very nearly dropped my tray. Then the main lights came back on and the siren abruptly stopped. Normalcy resumed, ushered in by the disconcerted mutterings of the uber-rich and I wondered what the hell was wrong. This was firmly out of the ordinary. I liked the almost rote routine of the usual day-to-day. I thrived on it even if my job was boring as hell. But I did not like this. My augs were doing their best to keep me calm and functional, but they weren''t perfect, and I could feel my own panic rising as the anxious crowd pulled me under. Then a burst of static emerged from the recessed speakers which had previously been playing ambient mood music, and I like many others, looked up at the ceiling. "Apologies for the disturbance. Some fast-moving debris came close to the hotel and we had to fire up the manoeuvring thrusters. Someone in engineering didn''t quite get the message and flipped the general alarm as a mistake. "Everything is fine. There is no emergency. "With that said, all staff are to remain in place, unless instructed otherwise, while we run some checks. Please consult your PAs or paired augmentations for further instructions. All guests, however, are to meet in the cocktail lounge for complimentary drinks and cakes. Please check your PAs for further details." The voice cut out with another burst of static and the mood music I''d grown to loathe resumed. I frowned, but it wasn''t because of the casino''s repetitive and uninspired soundtrack. I knew what manoeuvring thrusters felt like and what we''d all just experienced decidedly wasn''t that. Around me guests were checking their issued PA''s or staring into space as they consulted their augs. One and all, their faces paled. Those who ignored Management''s message were quickly nudged to do so by their peers, and then after some more face paling they immediately made their way to the nearest exit. Their pace could accurately be described as ''not quite a run.'' For the first time in a long while, I was very tempted to disobey Management and join the fleeing guests. Instead, I checked my augs and read the instructions telling me to remain in place. Judging from how all of my co-workers were looking around at the increasingly empty casino, I assumed that message was universal amongst us staff. I cautiously walked back to the bar while the last of the guests left the room. I wasn''t alone in choosing the bar to congregate at, and by the time I''d arrived half the game dealers had joined the waiting staff in milling around Sibylle''s station. As a rule, we were a gossipy lot. Exchanging rumours was one of the few forms of entertainment we were allowed to have up here¡ªwith anything that could broadcast or receive a signal from Earth being firmly banned. Usually, our talks fixated on which guests were sleeping with who, and who in Management were self-medicating and with what, but today our collective powers for rapidly dispersing information were put to good use. "So we''re all agreed? That announcement was BS and something either hit the hotel or worse, exploded from within it," Sibylle said, somehow emerging as our de facto spokesperson in a matter of minutes. "I still think it could be the manoeuvring thrusters. If there was a problem, they wouldn''t just leave us here. We''re highly valued employees!" Margot offered¡ªshe was one of the few holdouts who actually believed management cared about us, and rumour had it she was having a fling with the head of accounting. Most of us knew she''d always take Management''s side, but some of us still nodded along to her placating words. That was potentially a very big problem. "When the Titanic sank, officers held the people in second class and service staff below decks at gunpoint while the first class passengers were loaded onto the lifeboats," I said, and everyone looked at me in ways that made me feel uncomfortable. I knew I was supposed to stop talking, but I couldn''t help myself. My opinion was relevant. I was relevant. "Only 1 in 4 passengers from the lower decks survived compared to 6 in 10 from the luxury suites." There was a long pause. "I don''t see how that applies to us, we''re staff," someone said, and I barely resisted the urge to mention that on Empyrean we were by far the closest thing they had to third-class passengers. "What''s the Titanic?" someone else asked, and this time I didn''t stop myself from sighing in exasperation when half the servers started talking amongst themselves about old movies and an older actor''s penchant for women under the age of 25. "You think they''re evacuating the guests and leaving us here so we don''t get in the way?" Phil¡ªanother waiter¡ªasked loudly. "It''s possible," I said, "I don''t want to leap to conclusions, but if I''m wrong, why hasn''t Management interrupted us by now?" Everyone either looked up at the ceiling or down at their issued PAs. Management was always listening while we were on duty. It explicitly was in our contracts. AIs not-too-dissimilar from the ones generating suggestive Samurai footage listened to everything we said through our PAs¡ªand in my case, through my augs¡ªand would flag certain keywords, earning us warnings and reprimands depending on the severity of what was said. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Open talk of conspiracies and corporate neglect should have earned us some sort of punishment by now. Instead, nothing had happened and as the seconds ticked by, nothing continued to happen. "Let''s say, hypothetically, that something''s gone terribly wrong with the Empyrean, and this Titanic analogy isn''t that inaccurate. What''s the worst-case scenario?" Phil asked. "The Empyrean is about to explode and we''re all going to die," Sibylle said dryly. Then she sighed with resignation when no one immediately decided to follow that up. "Come on guys, we shouldn''t forget that while we all call it a hotel, the Empyrean is a space station. A very big space station, moving very fast, thanks to a lot of moving parts¡ªsome of which no human understands. And it''s all surrounded by a hard vacuum that will kill anyone not wearing a proper suit within thirty seconds of exposure." "Well that''s fucking cheery. Does anyone have a less terrible scenario?" someone added, earning a few grunts of agreement. "Anything capable of surviving re-entry to Earth is going to be very expensive. You all know how much Management charges for an unscheduled shuttle flight¡" I said, and this time there was a chorus of nods. "Given how much money they spent on staff quarters, I think we need to acknowledge the possibility there may not be enough escape pods for staff and guests," I answered, and this time you could have heard a fucking pin drop. "Okay, let''s not get ahead of ourselves. No one wants to lose their jobs because we worked ourselves up into a blind panic and then did something stupid," Sibylle said, and several of my colleagues shot unpleasant looks in my direction. "Nor do we want to sit around gossiping about all the things that could go wrong if something is actually in the process of going wrong with the hotel." She paused and this time there was a lot of solemn nodding. I felt a growing spike of envy at how easily Sibylle could control a room. "Fortunately, there''s an easy way to test the severity of this situation, before we do anything rash." Sibylle wheeled her chair to the wall behind the bar, and after a brief pause, a squarish, brown bottle coated in fine layers of synthetic dust was removed from the top shelf by a robotic arm set into the bar. The robot set the bottle down on the counter with a near-silent clunk and everyone held their breath. I looked at the cameras in the ceiling expecting an infraction warning to come at any second. A chastising voice, and alert in my augs. Anything. But nothing came. Sibylle cleared her throat and stared directly into the nearest camera lens. "I, Sibylle Eleanor Drum, intend to open this¡ 2.4 million dollar bottle of whiskey for personal use." The intercom in the ceiling remained silent and the camera did not move to focus on Sybille or the antique liquor. No one was watching us. I started to fear that I was right. "Fuck," someone uttered, and several more waiters, waitresses, and card handlers echoed that sentiment. "It could be a trap to fire Sibylle? Lord knows they can''t get rid of her because of her chair," Margot suggested. "Fuck off, Margot. Management''s not going to waste 2.4 million dollars on an excuse to fire her. We''re in space, there''s no such thing as anti-discrimination laws in fucking space," I said, just as my friend popped the cork and poured herself a tall glass of amber liquid. I flinched. My long years at the Empyrean had conditioned me well, I kept expecting an urgent command instructing me to ''stop her'' to appear in my augmented vision. But again, nothing happened. Sibylle took a sip, closed her eyes, and shuddered in her chair with visceral delight. Then she opened her eyes with a suddenly severe expression and spoke; "Okay, boys, enbys, and girls. Pour yourself a glass of something strong. Management isn''t watching, and they''d only do that if they''d already written us off. Gwen''s right. Something is very wrong with the Empyrean, and unless you''ve got a spaceship hidden away in your back pocket, we have a lot of work to do." I met her eyes and swallowed. Then I made myself a fucking margarita. *** I was on my back with Sibylle lying practically on top of me. While the alcohol in my system was giving me ideas about my closest only friend''s proximity to my body, any less-than-platonic thoughts were stymied by our rapt audience watching us work. I spliced the wires beneath the bar''s computer console, and Sibylle plugged her augs directly into the exposed electronics. Together we hacked our way in. Or more accurately, I unscrewed things and suffered minor electrical burns while she did the actually difficult job of hacking through the hotel''s security. About half an hour had passed since Management''s announcement, and in that time we''d had no contact with the Empyrean beyond the casino''s main floor. All the doors out were sealed. The bulkheads separating us from freedom were not something we could open by hand, and trying them again was just a painful reminder that we had all missed our opportunity to run with the hotel''s guests. Some of us had hit the booze harder than others. It was literally a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to indulge and I couldn''t blame them. I''d used a ten thousand dollar bottle of tequila to make my margarita, and I would swear till my dying day that it was worth every red cent. I suppose my bit of corporate theft paled in comparison to Sibylle''s, but we''d crossed that line together and if anyone ever looked at the security footage on this floor, we''d all be very, very fired. My colleagues who''d decided to keep a clear head simply lounged around in the comfortable furniture we usually weren''t allowed to sit in or paced anxiously while Sibylle and I worked. Some kept trying the doors or looked for air vents to climb through, but contrary to the action flicks we''d all been brought up on, the casino floor had narrow ducts and an extremely limited number of exits. Speaking of, if we don''t get out of here soon. We''re going to have a serious problem once the lack of bathrooms makes itself known. "I think I''ve got it," Sibylle announced. "Yay," I said weakly as she inadvertently elbowed me in the boob. A loud burst of static boomed throughout the speakers set into the ceiling. It was far louder than the last time, and decidedly more¡ casual. "¡ªthis Dylanesque, pop, bubble-gum favourite from April of 1974; that reached up to number five, as K-Billy''s Super Sounds of the Seventies¡ª" Another burst of static interrupted the radio feed while Sibylle mouthed a ''sorry,'' and everyone listening flinched. When the static faded and the voices coming through the intercom resumed. The volume was a little more tolerable, but it was clear that we''d tapped into the hotel''s internal comms. "¡ªthis is Engineering." "Engineering go, this is Empyrean Actual." "Actual, we''ve lost contact with the spa module, and we''re still getting fire alarms and pressure losses spreading across the main concourse." "Engineering, we''ve told you before. It''s just a drill. Stay in place and do your best to coordinate the remote DC drones. They''re plugged into the simulation and will address those alarms." "Empyrean Actual¡ that''s a no-go from Engineering. We''re not stupid. We know something hit the station." "Engineering, respectfully, you don''t know what you''re talking about¡ª" "Respectfully, Sir, we do. Now please, open the bulkheads so we can make our way to the escape pods. The station is done, we both know that." "...Engineering. You are to stay in place and coordinate the remote DC drones. This is just a drill." "I have sixty people down here, you can''t just leave us¡ª" The engineer''s voice cut out mid-sentence. "Sibylle, did we lose our connection?" I asked. "No, Empyrean Actual cut their comms," she answered. "Well fuck, what do we do now?" "You help me into my chair, and then we figure out how to get out of here." I nodded an action which is considerably easier when you don''t have a hundred-and-twenty-pound woman lying on your chest. I slowly squirmed out from under her, making brief and extremely uncomfortable eye contact with the service staff who''d all gathered close around the bar. Phil helped me to my feet, and then together we finagled Sibylle back into her chair. I pulled up a map of the Empyrean on my augs, and then with a marker, I''d stolen from behind the bar, I started to sketch out a rough floor plan of the hotel. "We''re here," I said, pointing to a rough blocky section I''d drawn that was connected to the central spire of the station. "The majority of the escape pods are located here," I added. This time pointing to the base of that same spire. "We have to go down three decks to cross onto the central spire, and then another twelve to reach the escape pods." "If there are fires, we can''t risk the lifts. That''s a lot of stairs," Phil said, nodding towards Sibylle in her wheelchair. "I''m a big girl. I can take care of myself," she snapped. "Besides, if we stick to the service corridors where the gravity is weaker, I''ll be able to pull myself along just fine. I''m more concerned that we''ll run into a room without pressure. We don''t exactly have any vac-suits lying around." "Maybe we should stay put and wait for a rescue," Margot said, and everyone did the sensible thing of ignoring her. "If we need them, we can always double back and get vac-suits from the nearest maintenance locker. There are only twenty of us, so if we hit a few along the way we''ll have plenty. What we need is a way to get through the bulkheads. They''re designed to withstand an explosive decompression so we can''t exactly kick them down," Phil added. "There''s only twenty of us in this room. If Management has locked down the entire hotel, then there are hundreds of staff members just sitting on their hands waiting to die. We can''t leave them," I said. "So what do we do?" Richard¡ªa twenty-something craps dealer¡ªasked. There was a long pause while I worked up the nerve to share my idea. "Two birds, one stone. We talk to engineering. If we can hack a comms system, then there''s no way that many nerds can''t hack a bulkhead. We explain what''s going on, and get them to talk us through opening the doors. They can use their alarms to help us avoid the depressurised areas, and failing that, they''re our best chance at patching a minor leak. That''s how we save everyone," I said. "Shit, the weird girl actually has a good idea," someone said, and I didn''t know whether to feel flattered or insulted. "Alright, Phil, Gwen, help me get back under the counter. I need to jack into the bar''s computer," Sibylle groaned. *** It only took Sibylle a few minutes to hack into the hotel''s comms for a second time. Routing a call to engineering and then waiting for them to pick up, however, took much longer, and I personally spent those minutes filled with a growing sense of anxiety and dread. I was one of three people who worked on the casino floor who had both cybernetic eyes and ears. Of the three of us blessed with both sensory augmentations and the Empyrean hotel''s monitoring software, I was the only one with some experience splicing wires. Sibylle sagely explained it would be relatively easy to forward a feed of my vision directly to engineering and that it might help speed things along. I was embarrassed by how easy it was for her to gain access to everything I could both hear and see. It made me want to take a really long shower with my eyes firmly closed when I considered how long I''d been working here. If it wasn''t for Sibylle broadcasting the feeds to the screen lounge, I would never have known anyone was intercepting the signal. Then again, the Empyrean made a lot of money off of deepfaking Samurai, and there was a literal floor of the hotel filled with sex workers, so I guess I was a rather boring option for any potential pervs in Management to spy on. "Okay, Gwen, you''re going to want to cut the red and orange wire coming out of the bus junction." I moved my paring knife to do just that. It was thoroughly unsuitable for the task at hand being designed to slice through lemons and limes with ease rather than plastic-coated cabling. For some reason, its designers had decided against giving it a rubberized grip that would allow me to cut through live wires in relative safety. To make up for its inadequacies, its already too-small-handle was wrapped in insulating paper napkins for my peace of mind if nothing else. "Not that one! That''s the maroon and orange wire. If you cut that you''re dead, Gwen!" Nigel blurted out, his voice appearing only in my ears. I froze. "That''s red," I argued. "It''s maroon. If you can''t tell the difference, you should hand that fruit knife over to someone who can. We''ve got a lot riding on this, Gwen." "I know, I know. You don''t have to tell me for the third time," I said, swiftly cutting through the red and orange wire and very nearly dragging my blade through several more. I could hear Nigel''s sucked in breath, and then his eventual exhale when I didn''t combust in an explosion of electrically-propelled flames. "What next?" "That''s it. You''re done. Try the release, and it should open. You''ve just got to do that on every bulkhead between the casino and engineering without ever making a mistake between red and maroon¡" "No pressure, right?" I joked. "No pressure," Nigel awkwardly echoed after a brief delay. Obviously, there was a lot of pressure. It turns out engineering was too important to be locked away behind a standard bulkhead, and had its own set of Vanguard-grade blast doors in case of a reactor meltdown. For now, Nigel and his team were safe, but they weren''t getting out anytime soon without the Empyrean Actual''s help, or¡ well, mine. Failing an override from the bridge, they needed someone on the outside to physically disassemble some of the hydraulics, and we¡ªthe casino service staff¡ªwere the only parts of the hotel talking to engineering. Suddenly the twenty souls I had to ferry to the escape pods had ballooned to eighty, and we hadn''t even left the room yet. "Thanks, Nigel. We''re coming for you," I said, preparing to mute our call. "Don''t worry about it Gwen, just save all our lives and we''ll call it even," he replied. I could tell it was supposed to be a joke, but I didn''t smile. Instead, I put myself into a ''busy'' subchannel without properly dropping out. I pulled my attention back to my fellow waitstaff and card handlers acutely aware that everything I said and did was likely being analysed by sixty desperate people in the bowels of the hotel''s engineering department. I swallowed my anxiety. "The bulkhead doors should open now," I announced, and collectively my colleagues let out a long held-in sigh. We''d prepared as best we could, gathering water, clean cloths, a handful of fruit knives and not much else. Honestly, we had no idea what lay beyond the bulkhead doors besides potentially lethal pressure drops and uncontrolled fires. Living and working aboard what is essentially a glorified space station can be stressful at the best of times, but after nearly an hour of wondering what was on the other side of those reinforced doors, there was little that could be worse than our fevered imaginations. Sibylle rolled her wheelchair to the door''s controls. She nodded once stoically and hit the emergency release button. With a loud hiss of the hydraulics, deadbolts retracted, and then Phil cycled the door. Despite Nigel repeatedly assuring us there was breathable air on the other side, we all breathed a little easier when the relatively fresh air flowed in with the opening of the door. The bulkhead swung open, revealing a familiar hallway the likes of which could be found throughout the Empyrean hotel complex. Only this one had something more than corporate art and fancy carpets to attract our collective attention. There, standing in the middle of the doorway on four muscular legs, was a model three. "Anathema," I whispered. It cocked its head to the side, and then before we could even begin to close the heavy bulkhead, the alien surged towards us through the open door. *** Chapter Sixty-Five - T-Rex Vs Giant Mecha Cat Chapter Sixty-Five - T-Rex Vs Giant Mecha Cat ¡°SexyHawk: Ohhh! Go catmech! TigerA: What¡¯s the t-rex looking one? SDC: Cant be a trex, no feathers Storyteller: stfu, you know what they meant. It¡¯s an m23 October: can we get an interior view? Someone: Mess them up Stray Cat!¡± --Witch commentary on the live drone footage of the Burlington Incursion, 2057 *** I ran, and the model twenty-three chased. A few things became immediately obvious. While I had a lot more manoeuvrability and could turn and move in the air much faster than it could, the damned thing was fast. The other thing that became obvious was my lack of rear-facing weaponry. The Gatling guns mounted on the mech¡¯s shoulders could turn all the way around to fire backwards, but that was about it, and while a constant stream of armour-piercing 10mm was doing something, it wasn¡¯t doing something fast enough. I came around a corner, claws throwing up sparks as I scrambled for purchase on an old school cobbled road. The t-rex looking motherfucker behind me just rammed through the building on the street corner then opened its mouth wide to try and take a bite out of my ass while masonry crashed and skid across the road. I kept moving, whipping my thagomizer-equipped tail into its face with its void terminus blades lit and extended. The crack of tail-meeting-face made the model twenty-three flinch aside, and it scored a long cut across its face. Not nearly enough to kill the damned thing, but hopefully enough it hurt it. I kept running, ducking into an alleyway between two smaller businesses, The model twenty-three paused at the entrance and glared at my back. It couldn¡¯t follow through the narrow gap, not without ripping through the entire thing and risking getting itself stuck. So it went up instead, powerful legs bunching beneath it before it leapt, ripping apart the road beneath it before it crashed onto the roof of the building to my right. It instantly collapsed under several tons of rampaging alien mass. I swore as I ducked down lower and pushed myself to move faster and slip out of the far end before I was the one to get stuck in the crashing building. ¡°You okay?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Ask me once I¡¯ve killed this fucker,¡± I snapped. I needed to hit it with something better. I dug one claw into the ground and used that as a pivot to turn around while the model twenty-three ripped its way out of the ruined building. I didn¡¯t quite have time to fire my railgun, but that didn¡¯t stop me from unfolding my 105mm cannons and firing both. At the same time, the mortars on the cat¡¯s back popped open and fired, all six of them tossing grenades forward with a nearly silent ¡®thump,¡¯ that I felt more than heard. ¡°What were those?¡± I asked. Resonators. I equipped you with those since you seem to enjoy them. Forgive me, they¡¯re not quite as useful in this situation. The grenades clanked around the alien, all six screeching but probably doing very little to the bastard. The 105mms reloaded and I fired another volley at it. The armour piercing sabots rammed into its armoured chest and detonated, sending some plant meat flying. But not enough. As the smoke cleared I discovered the alien was too damned close, jaw almost unhinged to reveal teeth nearly as long as I was tall. I jumped forwards and to the side, narrowly avoiding getting bit as I slid past the alien while pulling my guns back in. It wasn¡¯t quite fast enough. My world suddenly spun and I was thrown around inside the cockpit, even with the harnesses in there keeping me as snug as they could. The mech had been spun around, so I immediately grabbed onto the controls and spun it back to its feet, found a cleared stretch of road, and ran while my attention wandered over three things. What the hell had just happened, where the hell the alien was, and what the hell had broken. The first was easy to check. A quick recording from five seconds prior showed the model twenty-three basically horse kicking me as I went by. The damned thing had stumbled forwards after the kick, but it had regained its footing and was coming around, salivating for a taste of some good Cat. The damage was... not great, but not awful. One of my Gatling guns was ripped off, and stray shells were clinking out of their chain and onto the ground as I moved. The 105 on that side hadn¡¯t finished sliding back into place when I got struck, and now some of its parts were reading orange on the damage readout. Otherwise, everything seemed more or less fine. A few yellow-greens, but nothing that would interfere too much. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Reload the mortars,¡± I said. High explosives? ¡°No, something sticky,¡± I said. ¡°I want to glue the fucker down.¡± Interesting. Loaded. ¡°This thing needs rear-facing guns,¡± I said. Noted. I wasn¡¯t expecting so much running, but I¡¯ll add a note for any future modifications. I had a good idea of where the model twenty-three was in relation to me, so as I ran I took a sharp right, then spun around an abandoned minivan and immediately kicked on my stealth features. The skin of my mech warped a little bit, as if I was seeing it through a heat haze, then it faded away, and I was entirely invisible. The model twenty-three came rushing around the corner and kept going, but I saw its many eyes scanning around, trying to spot me. So I fired my mortars again and grinned like the cat who¡¯d caught the canary as they exploded all around the alien, covering it in expanding mounds of sticky foam. That won¡¯t stop it forever. ¡°Reload with HE,¡± I said. ¡°And tell me where that asshole¡¯s brain is.¡± Upper chest, about half a metre below the nape of its neck. Highlighting now. Mortars are loaded. My mech¡¯s chest opened and I pulled the trigger. Immediately, the cockpit warmed up as I fired the railgun. The alien¡¯s chest gained a hole I could crawl through even as six high explosive grenades landed in the goop around it and detonated. I waited for just a moment, then shrugged and fired the railgun again, then unfolded the 105mm guns and fired the remaining rounds I had left before needing to reload about where the model twenty-three was. Then I waited, and as the dust settled it revealed a very fucked up alien, its upper body shredded apart, one arm missing, and head flopped to the side. It¡¯s technically still alive. ¡°Wow,¡± I said. ¡°Well, let¡¯s make Gomorrah proud then. I¡¯ve got to have some sort of burning grenade that¡¯ll melt that thing.¡± I watched for a few merry moments as the model twenty-three cooked. I was feeling pretty good about myself, all things told. ¡°If you¡¯re done, can you do something about the rest of the aliens?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°They¡¯re making it past the firewall, and I¡¯m busy over here.¡± ¡°Ah, right, got it. Consider me on the way,¡± I said. I let go of the mech¡¯s controls for a moment and rubbed at the back of my neck and shifted my legs a bit to stretch them. That had been kinda awesome, but also stressful as hell. Who knew giant mecha on monster combat could be so nerve-wracking. My break over, I checked my GPS, realized that I¡¯d gotten turned around at some point, then realigned myself with the shore and took off running while ordering up a reload of everything. More mortars, more shells for my guns. I¡¯d live with just one Gatling gun for now. It was something I could fix later. And maybe I¡¯d use replacing it as an excuse to upgrade my new toy, because I couldn¡¯t see myself not using this in the future. Would Lucy fit in the cockpit or would it be too tight? Or would she have to like... ride on top. I could very vaguely recall her once saying that she wanted to ride a horse one day, back when she was much younger and really into ancient horse movies for whatever reason. I wondered if this was a suitable replacement for a horse. Giant robot cats were so much cooler than horses. (Although, now that I was thinking about it, some of that obsession might have been inspired by riding pants.) ¡°Cat, are you getting there, or not?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I sent back before pushing the mech to move a little faster. Once I got closer to the pier, I could see why Gomorrah was getting nervous. There were a lot of aliens here. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them. Most in the single-digits, but a few bigger ones, though none as large as the model twenty-three I¡¯d just killed. There was a mobile hive left, however, slowly trudging through the burnt ground without a care in the world. I¡¯d have to change that. Remind these aliens that there very much was a reason to worry. *** Chapter Sixty-Six - Spinning a Yarn Chapter Sixty-Six - Spinning a Yarn ¡°League of Samurai Legends is a Massive Online Battle Arena that is quite unique, or was when it first released. The game plays as a 3v1, with three players on the ¡®samurai¡¯ team working together against an ¡®antithesis¡¯ player who controls the opposing faction. The samurai players control various historical and current samurai, as well as a few original characters, buying gear as they rack up points for completing objectives and killing antithesis npcs. The antithesis player interacts with the game in an entirely different way, controlling it as a micro-management-heavy RTS wherein they create and react to the choices of the samurai players. Games can be extremely tight, and it affords and encourages a wide range of tactics and playstyles.¡± --LoSL wiki page, 2034 *** I lurched forwards, claws swiping towards a model five which I grabbed with almost contemptuous ease. Then, while shifting back and to the side to avoid a rush from some smaller aliens, I raised my mech up onto its hindlegs for just a moment and spiked the tanky model five into its comrades. I didn¡¯t stick around, however, and bounded ahead with several leaps while my remaining Gatling gun fired off small bursts into the more densely packed crowds of aliens. The nice thing about being in a several-ton warmech was that the little aliens were basically a non-threat, and most of the antithesis here were little ones. Advanced stealth bullshit meant the antithesis only knew where I am was I stopped to wreck their shit. The rest of the time, they were just running around, clueless. The antithesis were circling around their mobile hive, a few hundred of them bumping into each other as they created a cordon of plant meat around the biggest alien around, keeping it safe. Well, not really that safe. A flick of my thumb folded the mech''s back plates just enough for the mortars to poke out and fire. A subsystem of a subsystem tracked their trajectory as they flew in a nice arc and landed spread out amongst the aliens. Then they detonated, and alien meat was sent flying all over. I continued to move, back clasping shut even as I avoided a swarm of model ones swooping over the spot where I¡¯d been with suicidal speed. On a whim, I turned around and pinged one of the black birds in the middle of the flock. The mech¡¯s auto-targeting started to draw lines to it, telling me exactly where I needed to aim and how much leeway I had in positioning myself. I unfolded the 105mm cannon on my right side and adjusted the mech¡¯s stance so that the gun could align itself on the fly. I fired the moment the auto-targeting went green, and my mech¡¯s hindclaws dug into the road as it absorbed the recoil. The shell detonated in the middle of the model ones, fire and shrapnel and a powerful concussive blast turning the entire flock into cooked meat. That had given away my position, but at this point, I wasn¡¯t caring so much. There were three artillery models near the shoreline, hanging back until they had an idea of where I was. An alarm rang in my head as they fired, so I moved, running around in a large curve. Halfway there, I pounced up and landed onto a model four, squishing it beneath my weight before I started to jump ahead in a zig-zag pattern. My thagomizer-tail flicked from side to side, splattering aliens with every swipe. Then I was amongst the artillery models and ripping them apart. There was something insanely visceral about chomping down on an alien the length of a schoolbus and then shaking my head around while bits of it flew off in every direction. Yeah, I was having too much fun in melee range, but I was also in a giant warmech, which made it possible to be this close without worrying too much. Once the last of the aliens was spread out across a couple of acres, I found myself panting in my cockpit with exhilaration and looking for my next target. The mobile hive. It was still being protected. But it wasn¡¯t looking my way, and a hundred-odd little shits wasn¡¯t going to stop me. I laughed within the confines of my cockpit as I sprinted across the distance between us, then leapt across the last sixty or so metres, guns unfolding on my side to fire while I was in mid-air even as the thrusters built into the mech¡¯s legs fired off, giving me a bit more forwards momentum and cooking the aliens below me. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.Then I crashed into the alien, claws digging into armoured scales able to deflect tank shells as if they were butter. I rolled into a ball, the longer claws of my hindlegs scratching wildly into the alien¡¯s side even as I bit onto its back to keep myself in place. Aliens were charging in from all over, coming around the model twenty-two and leaping up onto me even as the bigger model struggled to stay standing, even with six trunk-like legs. I was getting rid of the smaller ones, though, swiping them away with whip-cracking strikes from my tail and with constant fire from my Gatling guns. Still, they were starting to be an annoyance. I had at least a dozen model threes chewing ineffectually at my armour, but there was a tiny chance they¡¯d ding my paint. ¡°Load up the mortars. Two concussive, four resonators,¡± I said. Done. I opened the mech¡¯s back and instantly fired the mortars, but I adjusted them to fire with barely enough force to just drop onto the ground next to me. The concussion grenades went off a split second after I closed my back up. The explosions splashed the model threes and their bigger buddies, clearing out the entire side of the model twenty-two. I shoved off, landed on my forepaws, then ran a bit, tail slicing into the alien¡¯s skin as I shot past it. Then I turned hard, jaw opening up even as I locked onto the ugly alien¡¯s face and got ready to be warmed up. The railgun fired, then reloaded and fired again. For good measure, I unloaded the last couple of rounds left in my 105mm cannons. The model twenty-two stumbled to the side, then crashed to the ground with enough mass left to it to shake the entire street. The last of the aliens left around here charged my way, but a quick swipe of a paw splattered them, and a roar from my Gatling gun took care of those that weren¡¯t close enough for that. I turned, attention to my sensors as I looked for more... only there weren¡¯t any. ¡°Huh,¡± I said. Well done. The area¡¯s cleared. The area was more than cleared. It was fucked. Every building in the area was either on fire or would have looked better if it was. Dozens of very loud cannons going off and stray 10mm rounds from my Gatling guns had shredded homes and lakeside businesses. That wasn¡¯t accounting for the street itself. Claw marks deep enough to crouch in marked the road, painting a wild picture of everywhere I¡¯d run. Bodies, most of them in several pieces, were splattered all over the place, and the road was painted in soot and chlorophyll. The biggest corpse was still smoking, its insides burning. As I watched, a small egg-like thing flopped out of the side of the model twenty-two and squirmed for a moment. Then a tiny model three broke free from the shell it was born in and shook itself. I walked over and crushed it into the road. ¡°Well, I guess, uh... yeah, that was something.¡± You might want to take a moment to cool down. Your heart is still racing at nearly dangerous levels and your body temperature is higher than optimal. The AC kicked on properly, and I let out a sigh. She was probably right. I blinked a few times, my organic eye burning and somewhat exhausted. ¡°Gomorrah, things are cleared up here,¡± I said. ¡°Got it. Bombing run¡¯s finishing up along the shore. I¡¯ll be passing back over where you are and dropping something a little more permanent in... about five minutes.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said as I sat the mech down. I was tempted to lick the blood off my paws, then I realized that it didn¡¯t matter, and I didn¡¯t have a tongue and... why the fuck would I do that? ¡°I¡¯ll uh, stay here for a bit then.¡± ¡°That was impressive, Stray Neko-Sama!¡± Intel-chan said. ¡°I saw from the bomber¡¯s feed. Well, I saw some of it. You were invisible for most of that, but it was still awesome to see. Too bad the aliens don¡¯t have morale, because if they did, we¡¯d just send them the vid and they¡¯d surrender.¡± ¡°Thanks, I think,¡± I said. ¡°Do you mind if I share it? It¡¯ll be good for our morale, at least. And you¡¯re less likely to be shot on the way back!¡± I snorted. ¡°Yeah, sure, if it¡¯ll help a little.¡± ¡°Nice! In any case, I put in a special order for you, and also, the reinforcements are arriving early. ETA one hour.¡± Reinforcements... holy shit, about time. I could feel a bit of stress leaking from my back, but I tried to keep my hopes in check. ¡°What¡¯s the order?¡± I asked, curious. ¡°A big, big ball of yarn,¡± Intel-chan said. *** Chapter Sixty-Seven - Late Chapter Sixty-Seven - Late ¡°The best thing to happen to sports was the dissolving of most major sporting leagues and associations. It occurred rather suddenly in the late 2020s and into the early 2030s, but interest in sports had been waning for some time before that. What replaced them were more extreme and audience-friendly forms of entertainment. No-bars or barriers--sports where every player is a perfect machine, pushing what humanity can do the same way racing cars were tuned to near perfection in their own sport.¡± --Sports in the 21st century, a biography of an art, 2041 *** I returned to Downtown Burlington at my own pace. Which meant, pretty damned quickly, all told. Mostly that was because my new warmech, even with a few dents in it, could top out at seventy kilometres an hour on a straightaway, and it wasn¡¯t like I had to deal with any traffic on the dead streets. I had half my attention split on my damage readouts and on the internal repairs of the mech. It had a pretty in-depth self-repair system. Nothing too fancy. It wasn¡¯t like it had nanomachines or anything over the top like that. But every system did have multiple levels of redundancy, and the mech was slowly testing out the systems that had been shut down, seeing what they could take now that the fighting was over. ¡°How much is it gonna cost to get this thing back up to functional?¡± I asked. Not nearly as much as the initial price. Though, there are multiple ways to repair the Mechcatular Nyanzerfaust. The simplest and least cost-effective would be to buy all the missing parts as new, with a small surcharge to have them appear on the vehicle itself. The much more affordable option would be to simply return to your New Montreal fabricator and build the damaged parts there. Seeing as how you don¡¯t have the complex education needed to repair the system yourself, or replace its parts, I¡¯d suggest buying a repair drone for a few hundred points and allow it to effect the repairs itself. ¡°Sounds slow,¡± I said. I believe that you will be afforded that time soon enough. Frowning, I poked at my friendly AI. ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡± Even though you are not officially a member of the Family, they have been treating you as one to some degree. According to their internal protocols, after the last 48 hours--which they would classify as mid-high on their stress charts, you would be afforded five days of obligatory rest. ¡°Obligatory rest?¡± I asked. ¡°That sounds like a terrible deal. I don¡¯t wanna obligatory anything. Besides, I¡¯m still good to go.¡± The rest period is to give the vanguard time to destress and heal from any injuries. Prolonged periods of high-stress can lead to mental fatigue, cumulative stress injuries, and a whole host of other issues. But you are correct. You are still capable of continuing. I... wasn¡¯t expecting Myalis to agree to the last part. ¡°Thanks, I guess?¡± You are, and this is said with all due fondness, very much abnormal, Catherine. Your brain is wired wrong in the most entertaining way. I almost want to see you trying to take five days off, just to see the panic of inaction settle in, but that would be cruel and unusual and surprisingly unhealthy. Sitting on my ass for five days would drive me a little mad. Lucy too, because as much as I didn¡¯t want to, I¡¯d totally drag her into the madness too. ¡°Yeah, I can kinda see that. So we tell the Family to piss off?¡± I would actually suggest taking them up on their offer. The lake and oceans specialised vanguard is arriving shortly, and the current reinforcements include a number of low-tier vanguard, similar to those you found in Burlington on arriving. In any case, you accomplished what you set out to accomplish. The city is, in a way, saved. Passing on the torch wouldn¡¯t be harmful at this point, and it would allow you to shift your focus closer to home. I thought about it as I continued to run towards the city. Maybe she wasn¡¯t so wrong about it. What did I still have to do here? Hell, why had I come here in the first place? Some of it was wanting to help, but I wouldn¡¯t have wanted that at all if Gomorrah hadn¡¯t dragged me into it. Now that I was here, I felt responsible for this city, but it wasn¡¯t mine. It wasn¡¯t home. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Home was back in New Montreal, where I was sure I¡¯d find plenty of problems waiting for me. Still, I¡¯d... done good, hadn¡¯t I? Whipped the locals up, got Lucy to help, fucked up in a few new and creative ways, but still managed to keep things from imploding on themselves. Killed a whole lot of aliens. Yeah, I¡¯d done alright. Maybe I would head back home for a day or two. Chill out in my little pool, then come back once the place was on fire because some moron bungled the whole thing up. There was another consideration. Lucy. Heck, Gomorrah too, and to a degree Franny as well. As long as I didn¡¯t stop myself, none of them would be able to stop either. I got the sense that Gomorrah especially would try to match me beat for beat. Lucy was obstinate enough that if she needed a break, she¡¯d get one no matter what, but she¡¯d still push herself to keep up for a while, and she was still healing, no matter what Myalis said about their miraculous medication. Yeah, I was gonna take a nice, quiet couple of days off. I made up my mind at about the same time as I reached the city walls. I saw eyes widen and picked up a few panicked calls as I jumped to the top of the wall, crumpling a small section of it, then leapt down on the other side. There was a jet parked nearby, and I paused a bit as I took it in. It wasn¡¯t a little fighter thing, but a big chunky cargo plane, but its wings were turned back. One of those fancy vertical takeoff planes? It looked like they were unloading shit from the plane. I didn¡¯t recognize the uniform of the new soldiers. ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡± I asked. The reinforcements you requested. Oh, yeah, that made some sense. I walked my mech over, keeping it low and slow so that I had time to take in the scene. There were a good hundred or so people in navy-blue uniforms with armoured cuirasses, arms, and kneepads moving around. They were better equipped than the local militia and it showed. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was samurai tech though. Probably not. Then I noticed a small group looking my way, four figures dressed in wildly different styles. I recognized one of them though, a younger man in what looked like jeans and a faintly glowing chest piece covered by a long leather coat. He had a long wooden rifle slung over his back and a tipped back cowboy hat that looked like something had chewed on it. Crackshot Cowboy, from New Montreal. Which made the others around him samurai as well. I glanced over the other three. Two girls, another guy. One of the girls was tiny. Not young, just really small, with an outsized backpack and what looked like flame-throwers? The white costume and glowing neon snowflakes on her outfit suggested the opposite. The other woman was dressed like an old school racecar driver. I didn¡¯t see any weapons on them, but her helmet was clearly some samurai-grade shit, and the suit looked too good to be commercial. The last was a really tall guy in a leotard with mechanical bunny ears stuck to his head and disgustingly hairy legs, and I really didn¡¯t feel like inspecting him too closely. I wasn¡¯t an expert at shit all, but something told me this bunch was entirely made up of new samurai. ¡°They didn¡¯t send the cream, did they?¡± I suspect that Burlington¡¯s going to be used as a safer location for new Family-related Vanguard to train. Well, that made some sense. I crouched my warmech down, then opened the cockpit. Something scraped, but the top of the mech opened up all the same and I yoinked my connection out from the side of my head with a swipe, then resisted the urge to vomit all over the cockpit. There¡¯s a shut-down process for a reason, Catherine. I went from being the machine, or at least having it in my brain, to not in a split second, and it felt... weird, like disconnecting my prosthetic arm, but all over and all at once. But I had noobs to show up, so I fought past it, then stood up atop my mech. I hadn¡¯t realised from within just how battered it looked. There were dents all over, and several hundred litres of plant blood painted on its exterior. I checked on the missing Gatling gun and held back a wince. That was going to cost something to replace. But for now, I had to get started on making a good first impression. ¡°You¡¯re fucking late,¡± I said. *** Chapter Sixty-Eight - Paperworker Chapter Sixty-Eight - Paperworker ¡°The Family is many things, but most of all, it¡¯s a place for the buck to stop.¡± --Agent Argent, 2032 *** I jumped off my warmech and landed in a crouch, boots muffling any of the noise I should have made dropping to the ground like that. My coat flapped a bit, so I straightened it as I stood up. ¡°Crackshot, nice to see you again,¡± I said. ¡°Miss Stray Cat,¡± he said with a nod. ¡°Pleased to see you too. Didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be here when they sent me over, but I¡¯m happy to see you again.¡± ¡°You know her?¡± the girl with the ice-themed gear asked. I think she pitched her voice low enough not to carry, but that didn¡¯t really matter to me. ¡°Crackshot and I have a bit of history,¡± I said. ¡°Was it me or Gomorrah that gave you the name?¡± I asked. ¡°Ah, that was you,¡± he said with a grin. ¡°Pleased with it so far too. So thanks for that. And yeah, Miss Stray Cat helped me a heap when I was just starting off. Still haven¡¯t spent all the points I made during that big wave.¡± I nodded along and buried my envy. I¡¯d made some points back today, but I was probably going to leave Burrlington with about the same amount I¡¯d gone in with. Then again, that might change. Some of the gear I¡¯d bought was going to generate some small trickle of points as long as the city kept up its defences. In any case, that was a worry for later. ¡°So, who¡¯re your friends?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh, right,¡± Crackshot said. ¡°This is Shiverin.¡± He gestured to the small woman standing next to him. She blinked, raised a hand, then waved, all with quick, jerky motions that came off as extremely nervous, like she was some sort of human chihuahua. ¡°This is Rod.¡± He gestured to the chick in the racing outfit who nodded once. ¡°And that¡¯s Hairy.¡± Hairy smiled at me, and I decided to studiously ignore him. ¡°Well, welcome to Burlington,¡± I said. ¡°Things have been... all over the place, honestly, but overall, not that bad. Is one of you the underwater specialist?¡± I asked. I got four head shakes there. ¡°Family mentioned that someone called Drowning Man was heading over from the other end of the great lakes. Supposed to be here tonight or tomorrow morning,¡± Crackshot said. ¡°That¡¯ll do it. They¡¯ll have their work cut out for them. There¡¯s a fuck-huge hive in the lake. What do you guys know about the situation here? And are you four... taking over from here, or am I just getting my hopes up for some time off?¡± Crackshot rubbed at the back of his neck. ¡°Well, we¡¯re supposed to be under Drowning Man¡¯s command. I think he¡¯s coming over with his own team to take over from there. Don¡¯t know how the handoff¡¯s supposed to work though. The battalion here¡¯s all Family-related folk.¡± I could feel a fresh headache coming on already, and part of me could already picture what was going to happen. The militia here got along... somewhat well with me. They genuinely seemed to like the local samurai as well, since they were locals and they¡¯d worked together. They also got along well with the Kittens. The Kittens here were all gung-ho about helping, but they were also big on community stuff, and since the Militia was homegrown, they got along well despite a few grudges. The Kittens were very obviously built to support the Militia, and that made them get along. Now we were bringing in outsiders who seemed to know what they were doing, and who I would bet were going to rub the fact in. Thank fuck it wouldn¡¯t be my problem to sort it all out. ¡°Well, that sounds awesome. Nice to meet you all. Hope you enjoy your stay. If you want to get ahead and make a few quick points, just hop on over the wall. There¡¯s some aliens out there if you¡¯re willing to search around for them.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if we¡¯re that equipped,¡± Crackshot said. His eyes wandered over to my warmech. ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t need anything like that,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s because I was out near the shore. Just... don¡¯t go near the shore. Not that you can, it¡¯s all on fire now.¡± ¡°On fire?¡± Shiverin asked. ¡°Gomorrah was around. Anyway! You¡¯ll want to figure out whoever¡¯s in charge of the Kittens. They¡¯re the nice folk in the cute outfits with the ears. Try getting Intel-chan¡¯s attention too. He, or she, or whatever they are, has a pretty good idea of where the next fire that needs putting out is.¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°You¡¯re not sticking around?¡± Crackshot asked. I shrugged. ¡°I might. I might not. The fun part of not being part of any organisation or anything is that I get to do what I want. And maybe what I want is to sleep in my own bed.¡± I patted him on the shoulder. ¡°But don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll listen to the news. If you¡¯re in deep, deep shit, then give me a call, yeah?¡± ¡°Right, yeah, of course,¡± he said. I nodded to him, then headed back to my mech. ¡°Good luck!¡± I said as I grabbed onto the side, then pulled myself up. Soon enough I was laying back down in my cockpit and gingerly jacking myself back into the mech¡¯s control system. ¡°Hope they manage.¡± I suspect they will. And the added challenge of not having someone as aware of the issues as you are, will allow them to grow even more. ¡°That¡¯s a nice way of putting it. Kind of a shitty justification, but nice-sounding,¡± I said as I turned the warmech around and started heading deeper into downtown. It¡¯s the same justification that other Vanguard used for not assisting you, and so far it has proven worthwhile, hasn¡¯t it? You have faced great challenges and have grown from them. I supposed I couldn¡¯t shit on the idea that hard, but it still felt a bit raw. I arrived at the mall in short order. My mech wasn¡¯t quite as fast as a car could go, but I had the fantastic ability to ignore what little traffic there was. Cars tended to move aside when they saw a giant mechanical warcat running in their general direction. I didn¡¯t waste the time heading over either. I placed a few quick calls to Intel-chan, informing them that there were new people to coordinate with. Then I checked up on Sprout and Arm-a-Geddon, just to make sure they were still alive. At some point, Manic had joined them out in the field, so that was good to know. It probably meant that her little excursion had been a success then. Good news all around. I brought the mech to a stop in front of the mall and climbed out of it, this time being a whole lot more careful while unplugging myself from the mech¡¯s control system. Surprisingly, doing things the ¡®right¡¯ way didn¡¯t lead to sudden massive headaches, which was nice to know. By the time I dismounted, Lucy had come down and was waiting for me by the entrance. ¡°Cat!¡± she cheered. Instantly, all of the sour thoughts I¡¯d been having were wiped away, and I found myself smiling like a moron. ¡°Hey,¡± I said as I jumped off the side of the mech. ¡°Look, I got a warmech!¡± I said while unclasping my helmet and removing it. Lucy laughed as she pulled me into a hug. ¡°You did. And it¡¯s already messy and covered in dents. If I ever buy a car, you¡¯re not allowed to drive it.¡± I scoffed. ¡°And here I was going to let you ride my giant cat mech,¡± I said. ¡°If I want to ride a Cat, then I have plenty of options,¡± she purred, and my smile turned from moronic to goofy for a moment. ¡°How did things go?¡± ¡°Not bad,¡± I said. ¡°Bunch of Family troops just arrived. Our reinforcements.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t they early?¡± she asked. ¡°Maybe, but I won¡¯t let them know it,¡± I said before stealing a kiss. ¡°Hey, I was thinking, maybe we could head home?¡± ¡°Right now?¡± she asked. I nodded. ¡°Sure, why not?¡± Lucy laughed. ¡°Why not? Cat...¡± It was her turn to steal a quick kiss. ¡°You can¡¯t just drop a heap of responsibility on a girl¡¯s lap, then ask her to run off into the sunset with you right after. At least give me a few hours to make sure the Kittens here will be fine?¡± ¡°Ah, yeah, I guess that makes sense.¡± She grinned. ¡°You¡¯re the best. But you¡¯d be even better if you lent me Myalis to help with all of this paperwork.¡± I¡¯m afraid you can¡¯t ¡®lend¡¯ me to anyone. On the other hand, if you help her yourself, I can assist you in assisting her. Which meant doing some of the paperwork myself. The shit I did for Lucy. Unbelievable. *** Chapter Sixty-Nine - Nice Chapter Sixty-Nine - Nice ¡°I¡¯m proud to announce my re-election in the last emergency mayoral elections. New Montreal is facing a number of hardships, and I promise I¡¯ll be there to address them as best I can. You have nothing to worry about while Dupont is here!¡± --Mayor Dupont¡¯s post-election speech, New Montreal, 2057 *** ¡°Is this the last one? Please tell me this is the last one,¡± I said as I swiped to the side and looked at a new form. It was a small wall of text, without even little drawings to make sense of the corporatese and legal gobbledygook that filled the form from top to bottom. ¡°Cat, you¡¯re barely doing any of the work yourself, don¡¯t complain so much,¡± Lucy said. Lucy, Franny and I were in Lucy¡¯s office space, working through the tedious process of making sure nothing imploded the moment Lucy and I weren¡¯t here watching over things. Jennifer the sexbot was coming in and out periodically, carrying some actual paper documentation for Lucy to look over. She was also answering calls and filling out a constant stream of emails with auto-generated replies. The transition was going to be... tricky. Basically, Lucy was transferring power to a governing body composed of some dozen members that she thought wouldn¡¯t fuck everything up immediately. The Kittens were still, nominally, under Lucy¡¯s control, but if she wasn¡¯t going to be right there sitting on top of it, then someone had to make the minute-to-minute choices. I wasn¡¯t sure if electing Jennifer as the leader was a fantastic idea or not, but Lucy seemed tickled by the idea, and I hadn¡¯t come this far by telling her no. In any case, the more forms I skimmed through, the more I was impressed by all the shit Lucy pulled. She had taken a bunch of volunteers, gave them a purpose, encouraged them to work together for their own interests, then somehow turned them into a passable fighting force with a generous hierarchy, decent pay, and enough momentum that I suspected that the Burlington branch of the Kittens wouldn¡¯t be the only one. ¡°Did I ever tell you that you¡¯re scary?¡± I murmured to Lucy. She grinned, big and proud. ¡°No, you haven¡¯t. But I¡¯ll take it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure about scary, but this is pretty impressive,¡± Franny said. She tossed a small tablet computer onto one of the desks. ¡°When¡¯d you find time to set all of this up while also doing... well, everything else?¡± ¡°Oh, I cheated,¡± Lucy said with a nod. ¡°The trick isn¡¯t just being good enough that you can do everything yourself. It¡¯s finding people to do parts of it for you, then sweeping in and correcting them afterwards. There¡¯s an entire out-of-work city¡¯s worth of people to pick from, so I just had Myalis help me find people that were actually competent, then I asked them nicely to do the stuff they¡¯re good at.¡± ¡°So, the same as asking the kittens back home to do different chores based on how old they are and how many limbs they have,¡± I said with a nod. Franny looked between us, then shook her head. ¡°We didn¡¯t have the same sort of upbringing at all,¡± she said. ¡°Aren¡¯t you an orphan too?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°No, actually. Still have parents. They¡¯re corpo, some middle-upper sorts. They tossed me to the nunnery because you can get a kid raised there for relatively cheap, and there¡¯s a lot of other ex-nun-raised girls who have gone on to do really well in business.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see the relation between being a good nun and being good at business,¡± I said. Franny grinned. ¡°The way the old nuns put it, it¡¯s all about self-discipline and that kind of nonsense. I think it¡¯s mostly that you learn how to be underhanded while looking earnest, but what do I know? I¡¯m not exactly a shining example of what they want. Delilah, on the other hand, is exactly the kind of girl they try to produce.¡± ¡°She is a little uptight,¡± I said with a good natured grin. Franny chuckled. ¡°Yeah. Exactly. Now imagine her in one of those corpo outfits instead of looking like a nun, and you¡¯ve got a complete picture.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯d all love to spend time thinking of Gomorrah in a pencil skirt,¡± Lucy said. ¡°But we can do that later! We¡¯re almost done here.¡± This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. I laughed, signed off on the final form without really reading it too well, then sat down on Lucy¡¯s desk. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡± Lucy looked around her office, then blinked a few times, eyes twitching in that telltale way that meant she was looking at screens I couldn¡¯t see. ¡°I think... that we¡¯re pretty much done here,¡± Lucy said. I felt myself tense up for a moment before it all kind of just... washed away. I wasn¡¯t expecting it, but I supposed that for the last couple of days I¡¯d been running on lots of stress. Now things were, more or less, over. ¡°Are we going to pick up Gomorrah?¡± I asked. ¡°I imagine she¡¯ll want to head home too?¡± Franny perked up. ¡°I sent her a message. She¡¯s on her way back. But, ah. There¡¯s only room for two in the Fury.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m not going to get in between you and your girlfriend,¡± I said. Franny¡¯s cheeks warmed up so much they almost matched her orange hair. ¡°It¡¯s... we¡¯re not... urgh. You¡¯re too much like Lucy,¡± she said. I shared a grin with Lucy. ¡°So, she has a way home. What about us?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t imagine taking a taxi is possible, is it?¡± Lucy asked. I laughed. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Besides, I don¡¯t want to leave my giant warmech behind.¡± For a couple of hundred points, you could buy the Mechanised Warfare Platform Flight Systems catalogue. Then bringing the Mechcatular Nyanzerfaust back to your home wouldn¡¯t be as much of a challenge. I glanced to the side, to make sure no one thought I was talking to them, directly. ¡°And how exactly would that work out?¡± I suppose it depends on what sort of flight system you purchase. I¡¯d suggest foldable wings that can lock onto the side of the Mechcatular Nyanzerfaust with an engine pack for lift. With some slight VTOL abilities, landing the mech back at your home should be relatively easy. ¡°Yeah, yeah, we could do something like that. But then... Hey, Lucy, would you rather be stuck with me inside of a very tight cockpit, or would you rather ride on top of a giant warmech?¡± Lucy stared at me for a moment, then her brows drew together as she actually thought about it. ¡°How safe is riding the mech? And how much are we wearing inside that cockpit?¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯d make sure you have a strap or something. Maybe a saddle? I don¡¯t think there is much we can do to actually make it comfortable, honestly. It¡¯s pretty wide at the shoulders, so it wouldn¡¯t be like riding a horse or something. As for the cockpit.¡± I grinned. ¡°I can wear as little as you want.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Franny said as she dropped some stuff off. ¡°I¡¯m heading out. Maybe we can have lunch or something one of these days. Lucy, thanks for the... advice earlier.¡± She cleared her throat, and I couldn¡¯t help but notice the blush still clinging to her cheeks. ¡°Have a safe ride back, you two. But like... take a car. Like normal people.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll think about it,¡± I said. ¡°Stay safe, Franny. And say hi to Gom for me.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t forget what I told you, about the tongue,¡± Lucy added. I turned towards Lucy while Franny made a quick exit. ¡°What did you tell her?¡± I asked. ¡°I just gave her some friendly advice,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Delilah and Franny are cute together, but they¡¯re both really useless.¡± I shrugged. ¡°We weren¡¯t always so good about stuff ourselves.¡± ¡°Yeah, exactly,¡± Lucy said. She wandered over, and very casually wrapped her arms around my waist and let her head fall onto my shoulder. I hugged her back, artificial arm around the small of her back, my other hand slipping into the soft fluff of her hair to scratch at the back of her head. We didn¡¯t talk for a couple of minutes, just hung onto each other. I didn¡¯t know if Lucy was destressing, but it didn¡¯t feel like it. This was more... hugging for the sake of hugging. ¡°You did well,¡± Lucy said. I tensed up for a moment, and Lucy hugged me harder in response, so I just melted into it more. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. ¡°I think I could have done better.¡± ¡°Next time,¡± she murmured. ¡°There¡¯s always going to be another fire. You know how it is, Cat.¡± ¡°Same as it ever was,¡± I complained. Then I pressed a kiss into Lucy¡¯s forehead, and I felt like even if all I ever did was run around and try to stamp out problems, maybe that wasn¡¯t so bad if I had something to return to. *** Epilogue Epilogue Lucy sat in the kiddie pool, an energy drink in one hand, the other splayed out over the edge of the pool. She was contorted in a position that was as comfortable as it was bad for her spine. She had bought a TV, even if it was a stupid luxury to buy when anyone with sense could just look at virtual screens projected from their Augs. Still, she liked having the big flatscreen pressed up against the wall. It was tuned to a Burlington news channel. It was a small local channel that had been taken over by a few reporters who wanted to... well, report stuff. It was very jank at the moment, with most of their footage being shaky-cam and interviews with randos, and what news they said that Lucy could fact-check came back as mostly wrong. Which was par for the course as far as news went. Still, it was nice to see that the city wasn''t a burning husk now that she was back home. The lake was on fire, but only a little, and for once it wasn''t Gomorrah''s fault. Probably that underwater samurai whose name she''d forgotten. Lucy took a sip of her drink, then suppressed a shiver as the sugar hit her. She needed to get a better kiddie pool, maybe something with a heating element in it? But then, she might as well get a jacuzzi. And if she got one of those, there was a very real chance she''d never leave it again. So maybe it was for the best that she didn''t. The last couple of days had been stressful. Actually, the last couple of weeks had been pretty bad, as far as stress went. Lucy tilted her head back and took in the massive bedroom which was now hers, with its protector-made architecture, sheltered within a larger penthouse floor that was practically a modern mansion near the centre of one of the largest cities in the world. The kind of place that cost more than most people could ever imagine having. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. So yeah, while the stress had been a bit bad, on the whole of it, things were going pretty well. It was a lot of work to keep it all up, but she was glad to do it. It was helping and while she never believed herself to be anything but a practical sort of altruist, she¡¯d help others if it meant coming out on top herself. She had a couple dozen emails waiting for her. They were offers, polite and otherwise, asking for her to join their company or corporation in one form or another. Either she¡¯d really impressed a bunch of big wigs, or they were trying to get her to look at them favourably since she had connections to Cat. The idiots. As if she¡¯d ever leave such a cushy position to work for a corpo. The door to the room opened, and Lucy casually draped an arm across her chest until she saw that it was Cat who¡¯d stepped in. Her girlfriend was frowning as she looked around, then she spotted Lucy and froze in the act of closing the door. Her eyes flit from Lucy¡¯s face to Lucy¡¯s chest and stayed there. ¡°You¡¯re in my pool,¡± Cat said. ¡°Mhm,¡± Lucy agreed. ¡°You¡¯re not wearing anything,¡± Cat said next. Another statement of fact. ¡°I haven¡¯t had time to buy a nice swimsuit,¡± Lucy said. She gently lowered her arm, and Cat stared, as if her breasts were the red dot and Cat was very much the animal she was named after. ¡°I was thinking of getting a jacuzzi, do you think we could get away with that?¡± ¡°In the bedroom?¡± Cat asked, finally snapping her attention up. ¡°Why not?¡± Lucy asked. Cat blinked. ¡°Fuck it, sure,¡± she said. Lucy grinned. Yeah, life was a bit stressful, but it was worth living these days. *** Stray Cat Strut - Volume Six - A Young Ladys Guide to Taking Uncivil Liberties Cat is on vacation. Then Cat stumbles upon Raccoon''s illicit job as a freelancer in the murky underbelly of their dystopian city, she plunges headfirst into a world of high-risk heists, corporate intrigue, and unscrupulous transactions. This city, she finds, is a ticking time bomb of chaos and despair. But Cat is on vacation. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. News of soaring crime rates, job scarcity, and a city that''s falling apart bit by bit start gnawing at her conscience. It''s clear that the city she loves is spiraling out of control, its future precariously teetering on the edge. But Cat is on vacation. When she learns that the re-elected mayor, the man who should be fixing the city, is proving himself a scumbag yet again, and the city''s ancient sewer system has finally shat the bed, her patience wears thin. Worse, the relief goods meant to help the city''s desperate citizens have mysteriously disappeared. But Cat is on vacation. Prologue Prologue Lucy sat on their front porch, wearing a one piece swimming suit that was made of the bare minimum possible amount of material, and sipping from a drink with a long swirly straw. They didn¡¯t really have a porch, but the large landing space at the front of their home, between the two large paws of the massive cat shape-penthouse was vaguely porch-like, she supposed. She was wearing a healthy amount of sunscreen and lounging on a cushioned chair with a little umbrella set up next to her. There was no sun out, because this was New Montreal, and the best they could hope for was an evening without rain, but it was the image that mattered. Plus, this was kind of fun overall. ¡°Ouch, fucking, fuck,¡± Cat said, and Lucy bit her lip not to laugh. Catherine, in a fit of... Catherine-ness, had decided that she¡¯d be the one to fix her giant warmech. The large quadrupedal vehicle was parked in the middle of the landing space, and Cat was standing on a small scaffold set up next to the front-left of the warmech. Next to her floated a ¡®repair¡¯ drone which she¡¯d bought to basically do the thing that Cat herself was doing right now. ¡°Do you need help?¡± Lucy asked. Cat glanced back, lips drawn together in a frustrated line. ¡°No, I¡¯m fine,¡± she said. Lucy nodded, then took another long pull from her straw. She thought she¡¯d tire of seeing the liquid spin around in little loops before reaching her mouth, but it hadn¡¯t happened yet. Nor had she tired of seeing Cat bend over double to get into the guts of the mech. Cat was wearing jean overalls and a sports bra and about half a gallon of grease and oil. Her hair was stuck in a dirty ponytail to keep it out of her face, but it hadn¡¯t saved it from some of the liquids that sometimes squirted out from whatever she was working on. ¡°Hey, Myalis,¡± Lucy said. She had a nice relationship with the AI. Myalis wouldn¡¯t help Lucy unless she thought that in doing so, it would help Cat, and the AI was very firm about that boundary, but at the same time, Myalis didn¡¯t mind chatting. It was, as far as Lucy could tell, a little strange for a Samurai to talk to their AI as if it was a person, but Cat had imprinted hard on Myalis and complained and talked to her as if Myalis was an old friend, so Lucy felt like she had to reach out as well. Myalis¡¯ voice replied right in Lucy¡¯s ear, overriding for a moment the music that Lucy had been idly listening to. ¡°Yes, Lucy?¡± Myalis asked. Her voice was always rather neutral. Feminine, but not... attractively so? That was probably for the best, Lucy figured. If Myalis had one of those really sexy accents, then she might be in trouble. ¡°How¡¯s it going with Cat¡¯s project?¡± Myalis took a moment to respond, as if she had to think on what to say. Which was silly, Myalis had probably guessed what Lucy would ask before the thought had crossed Lucy¡¯s mind, and had a million answers prepared already. ¡°All things said, it¡¯s going quite poorly. Catherine doesn¡¯t have the ¡®knack¡¯ for mechanical work. She is also not very good at following the instructions from the repair drone. Nonetheless, even with several setbacks, the work is progressing, and she is making fewer mistakes.¡± There was a clink-clank from where Cat was, then a lot of swearing. ¡°Though fewer mistakes doesn¡¯t mean that none are being made, I should note,¡± Myalis said. Lucy held back an inappropriate giggle. It would have upset Cat. ¡°So, is this a new hobby? I don¡¯t mind the butch-mechanic girl look, it¡¯s hot, but I¡¯m pretty sure Cat¡¯s not doing this to try and... seduce me, or whatever.¡± ¡°I suspect that this is mostly happening because Catherine is not good at taking breaks. The prospect of sitting on her laurels makes her feel somewhat powerless, so she has decided to do something, even if it¡¯s somewhat counter-productive. Of all the things she chose to do, apparently fixing the damage on her warmech by hand came to mind first.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± Lucy said noncommittally. She supposed it made some sense. Cat was under a fair bit of stress, even if she was doing nothing much at the moment. They¡¯d only arrived back from Burlinton a day and a half ago. That meant one night celebrating her return with the kittens, then later with Lucy in their room, then a whole day spent cuddling and fucking and then cuddling some more, and now this morning, Cat had left and decided to become a mechanic. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Lucy sipped, and her straw made that loud slurping noise that meant she was fresh-out of juice. She sighed, then kicked her legs to the side and with some effort, got to her feet. Her thigh and calf muscles sometimes still hurt, but she¡¯d been assured that it was plain old muscle soreness from overuse, not anything nefarious. Walking over to Cat, she paused by the bottom of the scaffold and looked up. ¡°Hey,¡± she said. Cat paused in the act of scrutinising two... metal thingies. ¡°Huh? Oh, what¡¯s up?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯m getting another drink. Do you want anything?¡± she asked. ¡°Uh. Grab me a can of something sugary,¡± Cat said. ¡°You know what I like.¡± ¡°Oh, I do,¡± Lucy purred, because she wasn¡¯t going to pass up a line like that. Cat stiffened for a bit, then grinned. ¡°Ah, uh, hey, can you do me a favour while you¡¯re in the house?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I printed some parts. I need them,¡± Cat said. ¡°For the... twisty bit, and the rod-shaft gizmo.¡± ¡°Ah yes, the rod-shaft gizmo,¡± Lucy said. Cat huffed. ¡°I just started this, you can¡¯t expect me to know what I¡¯m doing.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go fetch your rod-shaft gizmo,¡± Lucy said with a chuckle. ¡°And after, maybe we can talk about lunch? It¡¯s a couple of hours to noon, but I¡¯m peckish.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± Cat said. ¡°Could eat too, I guess.¡± And then she returned to her work and Lucy stepped off, heading back into the home. It was incredible how different the air tasted just past the entranceway. There was no kerosene scent, and the air had a crisp, clean taste to it within the museum. She shook her head as she caught herself calling it the museum again. The habit just wouldn¡¯t die. The kittens, she discovered, were spread out across the main room. Half of them were zoning out, staring at nothing and probably scrolling their media feeds, the other half were running after each other and making a mess. She¡¯d have to see about getting some sort of cleaning android, because getting the kittens to clean after themselves was a lost cause. ¡°You¡¯re gonna get fat,¡± she sing-songed as she walked past Daniel. He was on a couch, legs kicking over the edge--which was a new habit he¡¯d gained recently, much to anyone passing close¡¯s annoyance, and he had a Meshgear helmet on. It wasn¡¯t so much being plugged into the mesh that was the problem as it was the extra large bag of chips open next to him. He flashed her the finger, then very conspicuously grabbed a chip and ate it. Lucy shook her head and moved into their kitchen, set her cup down, then refilled it from a big bottle in the fridge, then she added more ice for good measure, and found a can of something sugary for Cat. Then, finally, she went to the room in the back with their printer. It had been going on non-stop lately, printing out laser turrets which they¡¯d been selling or giving away in equal measure. She didn¡¯t expect to find someone in the room already. ¡°Rac?¡± she asked. The teenager jumped, and Lucy recognized the look that flashed across her face as guilt. She¡¯d seen it on plenty of kittens before. The girl wasn¡¯t one of the kittens though, not really. She was too independent, and didn¡¯t share the same history. She was still welcome in their home though, as one of Cat¡¯s rescued strays. ¡°What are you up to?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Uh,¡± Rac said. ¡°Nothing?¡± She was standing next to the matter printer, and it was pretty obvious she¡¯d just stuffed something into the bag on the floor next to her. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Did that just print off some parts? Cat sent me to pick them up.¡± ¡°Maybe?¡± Rac said. The machine beeped, and it sounded like an affirmative, so Lucy circled around Rac, and opened the hood up. There were a number of parts there, like Cat had mentioned, but also a small, neat stack of what looked like very large shotgun shells, which Lucy imagined wasn¡¯t what Cat had ordered up at all. Lucy eyed Rac, and Rac stared at anything but Lucy. ¡°Well, whatever,¡± Lucy said as she picked up the parts. They were still warm. ¡°I¡¯m on vacation, so don¡¯t start too much trouble, please,¡± she said. Rac seemed relieved at that. Lucy wondered how relieved she¡¯d be if she knew that Lucy was definitely going to be keeping an eye on her now. *** Chapter One - Staring Chapter One - Staring ¡°Let sleeping tigers lie.¡± --Cooler Versions of Shitty Old Proverbs, fifth edition, 2057 *** ¡°Hey, bot, pass me the clickity thing,¡± I said with a gesture towards the repair drone. The drone was hovering there, silent and unmoving, though I knew it had some sort of propeller thing going on because there was a constant wash of warm air coming out from its bottom. I¡¯d purchased it when I picked up my newest hobby. Technically, this thing could get my mech up and running in a fraction of the time it took me to do it. Also, it wouldn¡¯t mess up the repairs and break even more stuff while doing it. It had the schematics for the mech in its little robot head, and could fix nearly anything wrong with it, especially with access to my matter fabricator to make parts. But that would rob me of all my fun. The drone passed me a tool--was it called a ratchet?--and I leaned into the mech and slotted it over a small bolt. I hadn¡¯t jumped into this new hobby entirely unprepared. I¡¯d bought a cheap bit of software from Myalis that gave me step-by-step instructions on how to fix this particular mech. It was telling me what to undo and where, and which part needed replacing. It was kind of like a big three-dimensional puzzle, but one put together by a mad scientist who¡¯d just taken a fat snort of cocaine before they got creative. Every part of the mech was small and intricate and linked to others so that replacing one piece required that I take apart a dozen more. I was positive that it was built this way to make sure it was as strong as possible or something. It also made it insanely fucking annoying to fix. You know, when most people pick up a new hobby, they generally start themselves off easily, then work up to harder challenges. ¡°Cowards,¡± I dismissed, mostly because I knew it would bother Myalis. Maybe you should work on something more your speed? Like a Jenga tower? That would have mechanical properties that even you can understand. I laughed. ¡°Low blow,¡± I said. I chewed on my lip while flicking the ratchet around, and then the bolt I¡¯d been working on came free and the part I wanted to replace fell... right in between the armoured plates of the mech. It clinked and clanked on its way down, and I just stared into the dark crack where it had gone. ¡°Fuck,¡± I said. I¡¯m adding to the total projected time until the warmech is repaired once more. A little counter that had been gently dropping as I worked flickered, and the 36 days climbed up to 39. ¡°You really don¡¯t have any faith in me, do you?¡± I asked. I do have faith in you, Catherine. I¡¯m mostly teasing you to keep your mood up. You¡¯re unusually motivated by antagonism, even of the more friendly variety. But I do think that, if you set your mind to it, you¡¯ll master this in due time. I felt myself flushing a bit, then shook my head. ¡°Nevermind that. Hey, repair drone, fetch that part, would you?¡± The drone hovered up and above, and some parts along its side unfolded. Soon a small line snaked out and into the crack, the tip lighting up faintly with what I imagined was a camera-light combo. It had little grippers too, for grabbing onto wayward parts. The repairs so far had mostly involved taking things apart. I¡¯d removed a few armoured plates and disconnected a few parts. It gave me some access to the front left section of the mech where one of the Gatling guns had been. The gun itself was... probably somewhere in Burlington still. It had been ripped clean off, hence the repair job. ¡°Are you taking a break?¡± I glanced back to see Lucy returning with a tray. It had a can of soda on it, next to the parts I¡¯d sent her out for. ¡°Just a little one,¡± I admitted as I leapt off the scaffolding and landed in a crouch next to her. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said as I took the tray and set it down. I turned back to her, and swept my gaze up and down. Lucy was always a pleasure to look at, but seeing her in a little one-piece swimsuit was just... nice. Very nice. Myalis had been swatting away spy drones all afternoon, and while I was pretty sure they were out here mostly to see what I was up to and to snoop on the warmech parked out front, I still felt a little jealous thrill at the thought of others seeing Lucy out here. ¡°Wow, I can feel you staring,¡± she said, lips quirking into an easy smile. ¡°But two things. First, you¡¯re covered in oil and gunk. And second, I¡¯m still sore.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. I laughed. ¡°Yeah, fair,¡± I said as I leaned back against the scaffolds and popped the tab on the soda. ¡°Myalis says that it¡¯ll only take me another... month and a week or so to finish fixing this bad boy.¡± I gestured to the mech with a thumb. ¡°A month and a week,¡± she said. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a long time?¡± ¡°Eh. If I really need it, then I¡¯ll let the drone fix it up. How long would that take, Myalis?¡± Approximately three hours. ¡°Under a week,¡± I said to Lucy. Look, I had some pride, and wasn¡¯t above lying to Lucy to make myself look less incompetent. She smiled the smile of someone who knew and who--luckily for me--thought it was more amusing than anything else. ¡°Hey, thought you should know, but I saw Rac in the printer room. She was making stuff for herself, I think.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± I asked before taking a sip. ¡°Well, whatever. She¡¯d been the one bringing in the most materials for the recycler. Only fair that she gets to use some of it.¡± ¡°I think she was making shotgun shells,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Wait, really?¡± I asked. I frowned, then navigated through my aug¡¯s menus to connect to the house¡¯s network--which I dared any non-samurai from trying to break into--then to the printer itself. The machine was exactly as smart as I¡¯d expect from a Protector-made machine. It had logs of every item it had ever made, and who had picked it up. There were some from me, a few from Lucy, and a heap from Rac. Lots of turrets, which only made sense. We¡¯d been producing and selling those on the side for a little bit. A lot of them were probably scattered around rooftops in Burlington, and I didn¡¯t doubt that a few would get picked up and resold by someone unscrupulous, but they were basically free to make. If Rac had nabbed a few herself, then I wouldn¡¯t have bat an eye. I...wasn¡¯t exactly paying her. Sure, free rent and a room with however many meals a day she wanted in my place was nice, but she was a little more independent than the kittens. But there were a lot of purchases on the list that had me... curious about Rac¡¯s activities. ¡°Heavy plasma shotgun?¡± I read. ¡°Myalis, how did she get the printer to print that?¡± You purchased a Heavy Plasma Turret Emplacement Blueprint several days ago. The gun she printed is technically meant to be mounted on a turret, so it was included in the blueprints. ¡°Well, well,¡± I said. Not only had she bought the gun, she¡¯d gotten ammo for it, multiple times across a few days. There were a few other things. Some guns, a few prosthetics, but nothing insane. I let out a long winded sigh. ¡°I need to look into this, don¡¯t I?¡± I asked. Lucy shifted closer to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she said. ¡°Besides, I can take care of a few of your projects... if you promise not to add too many more to my plate.¡± ¡°Projects?¡± I asked. ¡°You were helping someone become mayor, you promised to set up a free-or-nearly-free prosthetics clinic, you still need to do something about the Sewer Dragons... I think I¡¯m forgetting a few loose ends,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°Didn¡¯t you want to avoid touching me? I¡¯m greasy.¡± She shrugged. ¡°We have very nice showers.¡± I considered things for a moment, then let out a groan and melted into Lucy. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll be moderately responsible,¡± I said. Lucy laughed. ¡°How about you do things at a reasonable pace? One problem a day?¡± ¡°I think some of these things are more than a one-day issue,¡± I said. ¡°You know, Myalis can serve as a glorified agenda,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Myalis, make sure she has at least half a day off. Cat¡¯s technically on vacation. And how is she going to find time for her new hobby if she¡¯s running around all day long?¡± Duly noted. I frowned. ¡°Lucy, stop telling Myalis what to do. She¡¯s my extraordinarily overpowered bullshit AI. You¡¯re only supposed to use her to annoy me and for kinky stuff.¡± I¡¯d really rather not. Lucy gave me a peck on the cheek, the cleaner one. ¡°If I feel like it,¡± she said, which could have meant anything. ¡°Right... where¡¯s Rac now?¡± I asked. Myalis helpfully let me spy on our friend by giving me her real-time location. She was a few blocks over, taking a public tram across the city. ¡°I should go check on her,¡± I said. ¡°Person-to-person, you know?¡± ¡°After you take a shower,¡± Lucy said. Then she smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll clean your back if you do mine?¡± Well, I could hardly refuse that. *** Chapter Two - Like a Raccoon to a Trashbag Chapter Two - Like a Raccoon to a Trashbag ¡°The population distribution in modern cities means that something like forty percent of all inhabitants of a city live in a ¡®megabuilding.¡¯ These are not to be confused with more traditional apartment buildings or megacondos (wherein each housing unit and the building as a whole is owned in part by its tenants). Megabuildings are micro-cities, semi-enclosed environments with their own cultures, beliefs, companies, and sometimes even currencies. There have been recordings of megabuilding inhabitants going to war with other nearby structures, and of massive cultural clashes. Most of all, however, megabuildings are profitable for those who own them.¡± --The Mega, An Exploration of Megabuilding Culture in New York, Detroit, California, and elsewhere in the NA Region, 2046 *** I stretched my back as I walked into the bedroom, hands on my hips and spine twisted backwards until something popped into place and I let out a long sigh. Showers were nice. ¡°Right, so where¡¯s Rac now?¡± I asked. New Montreal Centre. She just got off the public transportation network. Damn, and last time I checked was nearly an hour ago. I¡¯d almost forgotten how incredibly shit the public network was. But it was also cheap as hell and could get someone nearly anywhere within the lower city. I picked up some underwear from the floor and started getting dressed. ¡°So, if I¡¯m gonna go pay her a visit, think I should go in casual?¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t,¡± Lucy said as she walked in after me. She was dressed already, with a big towel wrapped around her head. ¡°But maybe you don¡¯t need to go in with power armour either.¡± ¡°Yeah, that might be overkill,¡± I agreed. So I found my skintight armoured suit and slipped it on. Fortunately, it was bullshit alien tech, and the material could expand and contract a little, so I wasn¡¯t caught bouncing on the spot trying to get it to fit like too-tight jeans. The suit was supposed to be able to absorb a fair bit of damage, so it would do for a little walk around town. Plus I had my jacket laying around, which was a bit better armoured. ¡°Where¡¯s my helmet?¡± I muttered as I looked around. Lucy snorted, but she bent down and used her foot to kick my helmet out from under the bed. It didn¡¯t roll far, what with the catears atop it, making it a bit too unshapely to roll. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said as I scooped it up. I started to tie my hair up in a quick one-handed bun while I moved towards the door, helmet under my arm. The blue tint on the tips of my hair was fading. I¡¯d have to reapply that stuff soon. ¡°See you in a bit!¡± I called back. ¡°Love you!¡± Lucy sing-songed. ¡°And remember, half days!¡± Considering how it was already past noon, I imagined that meant that I could only ¡®work¡¯ for the next few hours. But checking up on Rac would hardly, I imagined, count as work. How much trouble could one kid possibly get herself into? I slipped my helmet on and moved through the museum, only stopping when Nose and Tim ran past me screaming at each other. Which actually reminded me, I wasn¡¯t armed! I took a slight detour to the armoury, which was... actually, kind of pitiful. I had like, four guns and an entire room to store them in. I picked up my handy old Trenchmaker, mostly because it was a gun I was fairly comfortable with, and tucked it into a thigh-holster. Then I hesitated over whether to grab anything else. In the end, I decided that I¡¯d probably be okay with just the handcannon. If anything needed a bigger gun than that to deal with, then I¡¯d just buy it on the spot. My bike had, at some point, parked itself in the garage below the museum, because it was just handy that way. So I headed down while checking my map to see where Rac was at now. ¡°Any idea where she¡¯s heading to?¡± I asked. She has visited a specific club three times in the last weeks. Though I haven¡¯t broken into their security to see why, who she might be meeting, or what she¡¯s up to. ¡°Yeah, best not to,¡± I said. ¡°If she was one of the kittens, then I¡¯d want to know, in case she was being misled or something, but she''s not my responsibility.¡± Which is why you¡¯re currently riding on a course to intercept her? I didn¡¯t dignify that with an answer. Rac might not have been my responsibility, and I had no right to tell her what to do or anything of the sort, but... well, the brat was a friend, and I did feel like I had to take care of her a little. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Fuck, maybe Lucy was right and I did need therapy or something. But instead of doing that, I kicked on my hoverbike and took off out of the parking garage (which was surprisingly empty, I supposed that the lower floors of the building weren¡¯t quite in a state to be used yet, but still). The aerial traffic was as bad as usual, but I skirted below it, shooting across the city in an almost straight line. New Montreal was a steel skeleton of jutting metal bones. Neon glows marked the start and end of buildings hidden in perpetual smog. Sure, the city had been hit by two incursions in as many weeks, but that didn¡¯t stop it from glowing. If there was one thing that would mark the end of New Montreal, it would be the disappearance of its billion and one ads. But they held strong for now, filling the air with thunderous jingles and swaying Gifs of tantalising flesh and mouth-watering meals. I hated the holographic ads most of all. Maybe it was because they had only started to appear in bigger numbers as I was growing up, so they weren¡¯t as common when I was a kid, but it felt unnatural to see a massive dancing woman rendered by a thousand drones using a skyscraper as a pole while text hovered around her. Rac wasn¡¯t on the upper levels, so I soon had to dive, and as I did so, the ads changed. They were less... tantalising? I didn¡¯t know much about the psychology of neon, but the ads meant for those living in the penthouses and travelling in hovercars were loud and yet subtle. You might see a flash of thighs or some high-end augs, but the company logos were small, the product hinted at. Here, on the lower, ground levels, the ads were more straightforward. I parked on the same level Rac was on, letting my bike land on the sidewalk of a multi-levelled highway next to a repeating Gif of an animated woman giving a man head. The text Want Fuck? glowed bright next to me. Parking there was probably some sort of violation. Actually, it was definitely some sort of violation, but I was pretty much certain I wasn¡¯t gonna get in trouble, so I decided not to give a shit. Myalis updated my map, turning it into a more three-dimensional representation of the area, which was needed. Rac was currently riding an elevator up a building called HOUSE-FOUR-THREE, a massive brick of a building, with the exterior painted in dull greys except for the billboards covering its surface and the thousands of air conditioning vents poking out of its sides. It was the kind of place that I might have expected to live in, once. Ten thousand miniature apartments, all jam-packed together, with a few floors in the middle connecting to the maze of buildings around it and a few stores and shops tucked within so that anyone living in one of these never had to leave the building. I¡¯d heard stories of people being born, raised, and dying in a single megabuilding without ever stepping foot outside. The doorway into the building pinged my augs, asked me for my age, date of birth, official name, gender(s), marital status, and credit card information, then its rudimentary software bumped into Myalis and it shrivelled up and slammed the doors open. The interior was nothing but beige walls and graffiti. Judging by the scrawl, there were at least two gangs in this building competing for turf. Paint was caked onto paint, one gang gleefully defacing the mark of the other only for the same to happen to them in turn. My ability to read street signs was a bit rusty, but it looked like one gang was made up for Karens, and the other was a younger group of native French, at least judging by all the ¡®tabarnacs¡¯ I was passing. What kind of shithole was Rac spending time in? ¡°Which floor is she heading to?¡± I asked. She¡¯s heading to floor 14. But she will then need to take another elevator down to B2 in order to reach the club. That elevator leads up to the floor you¡¯re on. I can override it with ease. I nodded. ¡°Yeah, that seems nice,¡± I said. I pushed deeper into the building, past a few tweakers and some folk shuffling along until I came to an elevator bank some ways in. I stood there, arms crossed and legs set while the tiny icon representing Rac rose and rose until, finally, the doors opened before me and I came face-to-face with the girl herself. She was standing in the back of the elevator, eyes glazed over for a moment before she blinked her augs off and took me in. ¡°Heya, Rac!¡± I said. *** Interlude - A Roaming Raccoons Reasonable Relationships [Part One] Interlude - A Roaming Raccoon''s Reasonable Relationships [Part One] ¡°Heya, Rac!¡± Cat said. Rac stared at the woman with growing horror. She found her breath catching in her throat, and her mouth filled with the electric tang of adrenaline, like licking a battery, but across her entire body and all at once. But then she hid it with a grin. Rac was an expert at not letting anyone know what she was thinking. The barrier had to stay up, because when it went down, bad things happened. When she lived in the undercity it was a daily requirement. Never let anyone know how sick you were, how close you were to breaking. Maybe she¡¯d gotten a little soft in the last week. Life had gotten better. A lot better. She wasn¡¯t even sure if it was entirely real yet, and Cat¡¯s appearance right here and now might be the dream turning to a nightmare. But no. She¡¯d long ago learned to operate past that kind of thing. Self-delusion wasn¡¯t a weakness of hers. ¡°Hey,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯re you doing here?¡± Rac eyed Cat up and down real quick. The older girl was... strange. Unique, maybe? She wasn¡¯t sure what to think of Cat half the time. Which she supposed was normal, in its own way. Samurai were supposed to be strange, so it would be weirder if Cat wasn¡¯t bizarre. Right now, Cat was in a skintight suit that reminded Rac of netrunner gear, with a heavy trench coat atop that and her neon-pink scarf around her neck. And the cat ears, of course. Hell, Cat barely looked like a samurai at the moment. Some of the better-off, more experienced punks had similar gear. Not the streetpunks like Rac, but the bigger players. Cat smiled, all teeth and eyes that squinted. Cat¡¯s grins were always lopsided, the burnt side of her face never quite moving right. ¡°Why Rac, why can¡¯t it be a coincidence that we happen to meet in some elevator in a shithole mega-apartment about a quarter ways into the city?¡± Rac¡¯s grin didn¡¯t waver, she even chuckled a little, but she could feel the sweat starting to cling to her back and armpits and palms. The backpack she was wearing felt ten times as heavy. ¡°Yeah, funny that way,¡± Rac said. She knew the charade would end soon, and then shit would get real, but every minute she kept playing along was one more minute where she stayed alive. Those were the rules, usually. Then Cat, because she was Cat, decided to change the script and toss the rules out on their ass. Her smile grew less sharp, her ears turned forwards and up a little, as if they were entirely natural ears instead of very high-end prosthetics. She stepped into the elevator then leaned against one of the walls, boots crossing at the ankles. ¡°Alright, look. I¡¯m not angry. I¡¯m not even disappointed,¡± Cat said. ¡°I¡¯m mostly curious.¡± Cat crossed one arm across her chest, the other was left limp by her side, forgotten. Rac worked her jaw, not meeting Cat¡¯s eyes. Cat was... fuck, Rac didn¡¯t know where to start with Cat. Her and Gomorrah too. Rac was a nobody, of the sort whose corpse someone would stumble over some day. She was beyond just inconsequential, and the world knew it. Then two samurai waltzed by, broke all the rules, and decided to give Rac more than she could ever hope to have. Rac wasn¡¯t going to wax philosophical about it or anything. When shit went bad, she worked through it. That¡¯s how she¡¯d made it so far. When shit got good? Like really, really good? Like working for a samurai, like living in a penthouse? Like three fat meals a day and a nice gig? Rac wasn¡¯t prepared for that. ¡°Did I fuck up?¡± Rac asked. ¡°Rac, I don¡¯t even know what you did,¡± Cat said. ¡°I was legit when I said I was worried.¡± Rac could believe it. Cat wasn¡¯t corpo. Cat wasn¡¯t a bad liar, because she didn¡¯t lie. ¡°I found work,¡± Rac said. ¡°On the side.¡± She waited for Cat to tell her off, but it never came. ¡°Huh. Alright. Is it safe? Safe-ish? You know, I realise that I¡¯m not actually paying you, which is kinda fucky. Sorry, I just hadn¡¯t thought about it before just now. If you want...¡± ¡°No,¡± Rac said with a shake of her head. She had a safe place to sleep, and as much food as she could eat. She hadn¡¯t let anyone know--except Lucy had known anyway, because that chick was scary--but in the first couple of days that Rac stayed with Cat and her kittens, she¡¯d eaten herself sick. She¡¯d known that it was a bad idea, and that she had to pace herself, but she did it anyway because she could. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°I don¡¯t need you to pay me. I¡¯ve got... I¡¯ve got a job, of sorts.¡± ¡°Does it have anything to do with that?¡± Cat said with a gesture over Rac¡¯s shoulder. It was to the stock of the gun sticking out of Rac¡¯s backpack. The gun she¡¯d printed with Cat¡¯s alien-tech machine. The rest of the backpack was mostly ammo and a few necessities. First aid kits, some gear she thought might be handy. She¡¯d named the gun Heptee, because the words Heavy Plasma Turret Emplacement were engraved on its all-metal heat shield. ¡°Yeah, a bit,¡± Rac said. One of Cat¡¯s eyebrows rose. ¡°Well, what¡¯s the story? I¡¯ve got all day, I¡¯m on vacation right now.¡± The tone she used to say vacation was somehow terrifying. It was the same way a hardcore punk might say they were ¡®taking out the trash¡¯ or something. A word loaded with shitloads of implication. ¡°Alright,¡± Rac said, making sure she sounded more excited than she felt. She was a damned fine salesgirl, if she said so herself. ¡°So, I was looking for work. You know, just something to make a few credits. I asked around, and I found a decent gig.¡± ¡°What kind of gig?¡± Cat asked. Rac shrugged. ¡°Security work. Stand next to some low-tier suit and look tough. That¡¯s when I made Heptee.¡± She pointed a thumb at the gun over her back. ¡°Kept anyone from picking on me even if I¡¯m small. Job went well, so I got some cred, and that got me in the door. I work with a little crew now. Or I¡¯m trying to. This¡¯ll be my second gig with them.¡± She was glossing over a lot. The entire truth was that Rac was now, technically, a mercenary. She wasn¡¯t sure about all the legalese, but basically, as long as someone had a merc contract, they could sign up as a contractor-for-hire. There was a whole system in place. People needed shit done, and mercs were the answer to a lot of problems. Crews would form and break up all the time, but mostly they were together to do a gig or two, then they¡¯d leave or do their own thing. The system was easy enough. Rac was a step above the lowest tier, as a tier one contractor. Nothing special, in the grand scheme of things. ¡°You¡¯re going to a gig now?¡± Cat asked. ¡°Along with... Heptee the very big plasma turret?¡± Rac nodded her head once. Was that it? Cat would tell her to head back and Rac would be out of a job. She... kinda liked the work, like the idiots she was working with. But Cat¡¯s word was the rules. Cat tilted her head to the side, then she smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll come with you,¡± she said. ¡°What?¡± Rac asked. That hadn¡¯t been the reply she was expecting. ¡°Yeah, it sounds fun. Besides, I¡¯m on vacation. What sort of gig is it? Security again? Because if it¡¯s actually too boring I might dip.¡± Rac swallowed. ¡°You can¡¯t come,¡± she said. ¡°Why not?¡± Cat asked. Rac was stumped. Why not? She had about a million reasons why not, but her lips went ahead and said the stupidest one before her brain caught up. ¡°You¡¯ll embarrass me.¡± Cat stared. ¡°I¡¯ll what?¡± ¡°Uh,¡± Rac said. ¡°Wait, do you think I¡¯m not cool?¡± Cat asked. Rac had never seen her so offended before. It was kind of scary. She¡¯d once seen Cat hang a guy by the neck over a bottomless pit only to drop him, and even then she¡¯d done little more than shrug and grab the next guy. Even then Cat didn¡¯t seem as annoyed as she did right here. ¡°No, no, you¡¯re plenty cool,¡± Rac said. Cat¡¯s mouth worked. ¡°Holy fuck, you don¡¯t think I¡¯m cool. What the hell, Rac? I¡¯m plenty cool.¡± ¡°Yeah, super cool.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got like... guns, and a cool trench coat. And I have a giant fucking mecha.¡± The mecha was kinda cool, Rac admitted. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re cool,¡± she said. ¡°Damnit, Rac, stop rubbing it in.¡± Cat ran her fingers through her own hair. ¡°Unbelievable. Myalis, do you think I¡¯m cool?¡± And there she went, talking to her AI as if the AI was just... there in the elevator with them. It was super unnerving. ¡°Well, screw you, I bet you¡¯re not cool at all,¡± Cat said. It took a moment for Rac to realise she was directing that to Myalis too. She snorted, then the elevator thumped and started to move. ¡°Right, let¡¯s go see these friends of yours. You can present them to your entirely very cool big sister Cat.¡± Rac felt her heart drop. There was no way Cat would be able to pass herself off as just a normal merc. The first time someone insulted her she¡¯d blow their brains out and then... well, actually, that would be somewhat normal merc behaviour. Maybe this wouldn¡¯t be all that bad? *** Interlude - A Roaming Raccoons Reasonable Relationships [Part Two] Interlude - A Roaming Raccoon''s Reasonable Relationships [Part Two] Rac tried to look confident as she walked. Before, in the gutters and the undercity, she had to make herself small, inconspicuous and unimportant, like the racoons she¡¯d been named after. There, but not important enough to bother with. Up here, heading to the Barber Shop, the attitude was different. She had to look like she belonged. ¡°You¡¯re going to need some sort of ID to get past the bouncer,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s this big full-borg guy who doesn¡¯t fuck around.¡± Cat shrugged. ¡°I could take him,¡± she said. She hadn¡¯t even seen Molotov as she said she could take him. Then again... Cat could take him, and that wasn¡¯t something Rac wanted. ¡°No. He¡¯s actually kinda nice? But he¡¯ll sound the alarm if he thinks you¡¯re corpo or a samurai.¡± Cat grunted. ¡°How¡¯d you get in? I doubt they carded you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a merc,¡± Rac said. ¡°Once I had my status fixed, he let me in no problem. You need someone to vouch for you to become a merc though.¡± ¡°Could probably fake it,¡± Cat said. Then she frowned. ¡°Really? Huh. Well, that¡¯s actually kind of clever.¡± Rac pursed her lips and half-turned to look at Cat. ¡°What is?¡± ¡°Right, Mercs mostly use paper. Easier to destroy, and not something Myalis can just break into. So, that idea¡¯s out.¡± Rac nodded along. ¡°Maybe... I think you could get in just like a normal person going to the bar, but not if you¡¯re with me. Maybe if you try to pass yourself off as a specialist? For like, a job?¡± ¡°What sort of specialist? An infiltrator? A sort of cyberninja? Oh, I can totally use Myalis to pass myself off as a meshrunner, no problem. Or some sort of front-line alien killing badass. I¡¯m pretty decent with bombs too. And stealth.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Rac agreed. Cat probably could get away with all of that, but it wasn¡¯t the kind of shit that an actual merc did. Well, maybe some of them, but the average merc like Rac did work that was a lot less complicated. Her last few jobs had been standing around looking tough, or helping someone load up some crap into the back of a van in a hurry, or escorting someone through a rough part of the city. Cat was a Samurai, she was doing the kind of crap that legends did all the time, but most of the people in New Montreal were as far from legends as they could be. She heard the Barber Shop before she could see it. A low, distant thrum of bass-boosted swing music from last century and a faint stink to the air that was unique to this one level of the megabuilding. It was piss (which wasn¡¯t unique) but also booze-filled vomit and sweat and cigarette smoke. They came around a corner, and the front of the Barber Shop was right there. A big rotating door, painted in blue and white and red, with Molotov the bouncer standing next to it, massive arms crossed over his chest. ¡°Hey Molotov,¡± Rac said as she came closer. The music was louder now, so she had to pitch her voice up. Molotov heard her though, probably. The entire upper half of his head was prosthetic. Borg eyes in a chrome skull. It stopped around the upper lip, where he had a long, rather awesome beard and moustache that he tucked into his three-piece suit. His eyes twitched down, scanning her, then back up towards Cat. ¡°Hey Rac. Who¡¯s your friend?¡± ¡°She¡¯s a specialist,¡± Rac said. ¡°Lookout specialist. Thought we could use the extra hand today, and I wanted to introduce her to Millenium Animal.¡± Molotov eyed Cat for a long, long time, then he gestured them in. ¡°Behave, little Racoon,¡± he said. ¡°And your friend too. The Barbers don¡¯t like trouble.¡± ¡°Yes sir,¡± Rac said. They slipped through the rotating door, and the music hit her like a slap to the face. Loud swing music, accompanying a woman on a far stage swaying her hips and multiple fox tails while she crooned through a song. The bar was split into three distinct areas. The big central dance floor, with the stage and its musicians and a few holograms along the edges of men, women and anthropomorphic animals in suits and nice dresses from over a century ago dancing, and to the left was the bar itself, with a bunch of round tables and a counter that ran the length of the room. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. The place wasn¡¯t as busy as she¡¯d seen it, probably owing to it still being early in the day. Still, there were some three dozen or so people around the bar and the floor, some in nice anachronistic suits, others with varying amounts of animal parts either worn on as clothes or as elaborate prosthetics, and a few just... normal street people, like she could have seen anywhere. The right side of the bar was where she dragged Cat. There was a dividing wall, the bottom half fake wood, the upper bulletproof glass. Behind that were the booths, which is where business happened. ¡°Who¡¯s Mister Millenium Animal?¡± Cat asked. ¡°He¡¯s the one who hands out jobs,¡± Rac said. ¡°He¡¯s a troubleshooter. He gets jobs, gives them to the crew.¡± ¡°And what¡¯s with his name? Sounds Samurai-ish.¡± ¡°It¡¯s because he¡¯s old,¡± Rac said. ¡°Apparently he was born in like, 2000. And the Animal part is, uh.¡± They entered the booths section, and Millenium Animal was right there. He was a fox today. A well dressed, dapper fox, with a little fedora on and everything. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me he was a furry,¡± Cat hissed. ¡°Aren¡¯t you?¡± Rac asked. Cat¡¯s mouth worked, and Rac noticed her cheeks warming up before she glared. ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± she said. Rac shrugged. ¡°Okay. Whatever suits you.¡± Millennium caught sight of her and waved even as the mask he wore twisted to give the impression of a smile. ¡°Little Racoon, you¡¯re right on time. And you brought a friend too. Nice ears, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Cat bit out. ¡°I¡¯m Rac¡¯s... big sister, of sorts.¡± She walked right up to Millennium and stared him down, ignoring Rac¡¯s quick and aborted attempt to gesture for her not to do that. Millennium was big in the Barber Shop. He¡¯d been here since forever ago, and while he was definitely... weird, he had one of the best reputations for troubleshooting in New Montreal. A lot of people didn¡¯t pick him for jobs, mostly because he kept things on a smaller scale, but he also refused a lot of clients. He also almost exclusively picked which mercs he was going to work with. It was practically a fluke that she¡¯d gotten in with his current crew of low-tier mercs, and that was only because of her name. And right now, Cat was glaring at him as if he was some double-digit alien threatening to eat a baby. Millennium took it in stride. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I didn¡¯t catch your name? I¡¯m Millennium Animal. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, especially seeing as how you seem to care so much for our dear Raccoon here.¡± Cat¡¯s anger subsided a little, and she glanced at his hand for a moment before shaking it. Rac sighed. She wasn¡¯t about to shoot her boss. ¡°Call me Cat,¡± Cat said. ¡°And I¡¯m not a furry.¡± ¡°As you wish,¡± he said with a shrug. ¡°A lot of us would rather identify with the animal within, rather than with the community without, and that¡¯s perfectly acceptable as well. In any case, how can I help you?¡± Cat seemed to be caught flat-footed for a moment before she shook her head. ¡°Look, I just discovered Rac was doing... something with you, and I was worried. I wanna see what you¡¯re all about. Make sure it¡¯s on the up-and-up.¡± Millennium laughed. ¡°It¡¯s anything but that. And it¡¯s not entirely safe either. But... I run a good crew, and I pick my jobs. The price isn¡¯t the best, but the work is as safe as it can be.¡± He shrugged again, and somehow his ears and tail moved in such a way that he looked way more innocent than Rac knew he was. ¡°As we used to say when I was young, it is what it is. Now come, sit. Today¡¯s job is nothing complicated, and if you¡¯re as comfortable with that handgun as you look, then maybe you¡¯ll want to sit in on it?¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind that,¡± Cat said. Rac held in a groan. Not only did she have to introduce Cat to her friends, now Cat would be babysitting her on a job. ¡°Can¡¯t see why you¡¯d want me on a job though, you don¡¯t know me at all,¡± Cat pointed out. ¡°Free labour is free labour,¡± Millennium pointed out with a fox-like bark. ¡°I don¡¯t look gift horses, or cats, in the mouth. Now come, I¡¯ll show you to Raccoon¡¯s friends, and you can determine on your own that she isn¡¯t so unsafe.¡± *** Chapter Three - Strange Animals Chapter Three - Strange Animals ¡°No one wants a career! Do you think you want to work for the same bosspunk for 30 years of your life? Gigs are the way to go! Work for more credits, work when you want, if you want! And the day your boss steps on your toes? You¡¯re off to the next gig!¡± --Gigs-R-Us ad, 2031 *** I wasn¡¯t sure if I liked the Barber Shop. The music was weird as hell, and while the chick with the fox tails had a killer voice, I could still pick out the synth notes when she started to croon. I suppose that was one of the downsides of having really good cybernetic ears. Plus, the place had too many people wearing too much faux-fur for me to be comfortable. And Rac thought I wasn¡¯t cool? What the hell? At least I wasn¡¯t wearing fur. I¡¯m sensing that you dislike the aesthetic. ¡°Mhm,¡± I muttered. Rac glanced up at me, and I waved her concern off. ¡°Show me to your friends, Rac. I¡¯ll try not to be too uncool around them.¡± It probably shouldn¡¯t have bothered me so much, but it did anyway. Maybe my ego was a little more fragile than I¡¯d like to admit. But... well, fuck it. It wasn¡¯t cool to be so worried about what others thought about you anyway, so I made an effort to let it go. It¡¯s just that I thought, for some reason, that at least in Rac¡¯s eyes I was the badass older sister she never had who could solve all of her problems by blowing them up. I guess I wasn¡¯t quite there, though. Sucked, but that¡¯s what it was... at least for now. There was still time to impress the brat, even if it really, really didn¡¯t matter. ¡°Don¡¯t be weird around them,¡± Rac said. ¡°I won¡¯t be weird,¡± I growled. ¡°Have some faith in me.¡± That would be misplacing her faith. ¡°Oh, shut up, you,¡± I muttered. Rac gave me another look, but I ignored it. Myalis was being extra sassy right now, probably because she knew that this was embarrassing for me, and she knew that I knew that it was silly to be embarrassed about it to begin with. She loved this kind of circular thing. Rac led me to a booth some ways into the bar-slash-club, where the music from the dance floor wasn¡¯t quite as loud. There was a wall cutting off some of the noise, and a row of fake plants along the other walls partially hiding some of those foam sound buffer things that cut off vibrations. The booth Rac led me to had two people sitting at it already. One was a massive woman with a plastic half-mask on her face that made her look like a gorilla. The look was only improved by her arms and upper back. It looked like she¡¯d had some pretty extensive cybernetic work done on her. Her shoulders were huge to compensate for the size of her arms, which were also massive. They ended in hands that looked like they could crush melons with no effort. Or a person¡¯s head. Those are interesting. A human design, but based on a Vanguard¡¯s discarded prosthetics. They¡¯re about ten years behind the current technological trend, mostly used for carrying heavy weapons. So, she¡¯d gotten her hands on military surplus? Or, rather, her hands were military surplus. The guy next to her was a lot less daunting to look at. A skinny runt of a guy, maybe a year or two older than Rac and a bit younger than me. He had a skintight suit on with a leather jacket thrown over that. He was wearing a full-faced mask, with little mandibles and some hints at more ¡®eyes¡¯ on it. Not cybernetics, just a customised piece of hightech gear that gave him a bit of a spidery look. He gave me a peace-sign with a freakish hand. Too many joints, fingers that were too long, then scooted over so that Rac and I had room to sit. ¡°Guys, this is Cat, she¡¯s... sort of like my big sister, I guess,¡± Rac said. ¡°Cat, this is Coco, and that¡¯s Jerusalem.¡± She gestured first to the gorilla woman, who shifted to the side to raise an arm up and over the table so she could wave (she had a banana peel decal on her inner arm), then to the spider-looking guy, who gave me a thumbs up. ¡°Yo,¡± I said. ¡°So, is this the whole crew?¡± ¡°Nah, Garter¡¯s not here yet,¡± Coco said. Where is he, anyway?¡± That last was directed to Jerusalem, who tilted his head to the side, then he made a trio of quick gestures, ending with a ¡®three.¡¯ ¡°Does he not talk?¡± I asked with a gesture to the guy. ¡°He¡¯s mute,¡± Coco said. Jerusalem shrugged, and I guessed that he was used to the question. Then he continued to stare at me for a while before he recoiled back, and I had the impression, from his body language alone, that he had just been shocked. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°What is it?¡± Coco asked. Jerusalem made a few more complicated gestures in the air that I couldn¡¯t understand. But apparently Myalis could. He¡¯s telling her about his recent encounter with your automated cybersecurity systems. I didn¡¯t want to give away the game, and I was kinda shit at subvocalization, so I ended up opening a text app in my augs. ¡®My what?¡¯ Me. He tried to slip into your augmentations, and he bumped into me. Don¡¯t worry, I didn¡¯t do anything more than what a decently good cyber-security system might do. I didn¡¯t even chase him, just gave him the digital equivalent of sticking your fingers in a mouse trap. Jerusalem shook his head as he finished telling Coco what happened, and the big woman just laughed. ¡°Well, maybe you should know your place then, huh?¡± she asked. ¡°Raccoon, what¡¯s your big sister do?¡± ¡°She, uh,¡± Rac said. ¡°I¡¯m stealth and infiltration,¡± I said before she could demote me to lookout or something. ¡°Same as Jerusalem then, ¡°Coco said. ¡°You coming with us on today¡¯s gig?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± I said. ¡°Probably, even.¡± ¡°That case, you might want to let Jerusalem connect you to our network. We use it for coms. And he uses it to send text-messages to the lot of us. I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re literate?¡± she asked. ¡°I can manage,¡± I said. I glanced over as a guy walked over to our table. I didn¡¯t lean that way, but even I could tell he was an objectively handsome man. He had that model chin and wavy blond hair, curled up at the front in a messy-but-not sorta way. He was otherwise pretty nondescript, especially for a place like this. The only animal feature was maybe his jacket, which was all snakeskin. He was carrying a metal tray which he set down on the table before us. ¡°Banana smoothie, for the walking stereotype, bourbon on rocks for the spider, root-beers for the Raccoon and her gorgeous friend, and a little something for me,¡± he said as he placed down drinks in front of each of us. Mine looked like a lump of soft serve on top of some soda. Root beer, I supposed. ¡°You¡¯re almost late,¡± Coco said as she accepted hers. ¡°Almost isn¡¯t,¡± he replied. I took it that this was Garter. ¡°So, Raccoon, who¡¯s the friend?¡± ¡°This is Cat, my big sister of sorts,¡± Raccoon said. She smiled, and I noticed a hint of red spreading across her cheeks as she accepted the float. I glanced between her and Garter, who sat down across from us on the other end of the booth, one leg folded up casually while he swirled something dark in a small tumbler cup. ¡°Well, any friend of Raccoon¡¯s a friend of mine,¡± he said with a wink. Ah. Right, I was putting two and two together here and reaching four. Was Racoon afraid I¡¯d make her look bad in front of this guy specifically? I was glad I kept that app open. ¡®M, how old is this guy?¡¯ Garter, AKA Garfield Lebeau, twenty-seven years old, currently marked as unemployed, but clearly works as a freelance mercenary. I can dig deeper, if you want? Way too old for Rac to have any sort of interest in. Then again... he was about the right age to be in a boy band, and plenty of girls had crushes on those. If this was even a crush. It could be nothing, or maybe I¡¯d need to have a very serious shotgun talk with this guy before I painted the walls with his brains and figure out a way to console Rac for the loss. ¡°Wow, that¡¯s a look,¡± Garter said as he looked at me. ¡°So, Millennium Animal said that you might be coming with us on our next gig?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. Was this the third time I¡¯d been asked that? ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me coming along. I just want to see if Rac¡¯s kept safe.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± he said with a nod as he took a sip from his glass. ¡°Well, in that case, maybe I could go over the gig?¡± That had all the others sitting up straighter. ¡°It¡¯s a three-hour job. Some kids from a sub-level two gang discovered a corpo warehouse, and want to empty it out. Problem is, they figure they can¡¯t do it themselves. So we¡¯re going in to do the hard part for them. We go in, break down the security on the place, then let the kids grab anything they can. Maybe we help them load up.¡± Jerusalem made some gestures that Garter seemed to get. ¡°Nah, we¡¯re paid a fixed rate. Ten-k credits each. Flat.¡± That wasn¡¯t all that bad of a payday for a three-hour long job, I figured. More than anyone would make working a register. The others didn¡¯t seem to agree. ¡°I know, it¡¯s low, but it¡¯s also low-risk and easy work. It¡¯s that or we burn credits instead sitting here. So... we in?¡± *** Chapter Four - Back to Cat Chapter Four - Back to Cat ¡°- This quarter¡¯s going to be the first where our profits aren¡¯t increasing. - You mean we¡¯re losing money? - No, I meant that our profit margin isn¡¯t going to be bigger this quarter than it was in the last one. We¡¯re still in the black. - That¡¯s unacceptable. How am I going to explain to the shareholders that we¡¯re making less profit? - We¡¯re still making billions. - Yes, but we¡¯re making less billions than we were before, and that¡¯s not going to fly. Figure something out.¡± Private anonymised discussion on the Nimbletainment C-Suite Chat, 2057 *** ¡°Is this how it usually goes down?¡± I asked Rac as the two of us followed her... I suppose they were work friends. The crew didn¡¯t waste much time once Garter had laid out the mission. We all just got up and got going. I wasn¡¯t sure where we were going, exactly, but the others seemed to know. We pushed through a door at the back of the Barber Shop and into a service corridor lined with cubicles and stacks of boxes. It was a lot less glamorous than the main section of the bar, but the music still carried in here. ¡°Yeah,¡± Rac replied. ¡°Most of the time the jobs are pretty cut-and-dry. Go somewhere, scare someone. Steal something from a corp. Stand around and look scary. Sometimes we escort stuff.¡± She shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s alright work. Mostly it¡¯s good because it¡¯s fast. Half a day, a few hours.¡± That made some sense, I supposed. Rac was often back home, so whatever work she was doing here had to be quick. ¡°Raccoon hasn¡¯t come on any real dangerous jobs,¡± Coco said as she glanced back at me. The woman was a good half-foot taller than I was, and a whole lot broader at the shoulders. ¡°But we don¡¯t usually take on jobs that are that bad.¡± ¡°Mostly because no one wants to take the risk,¡± Garter complained. ¡°Even if that¡¯s where all the good money¡¯s at.¡± Jerusalem¡¯s hand twitched, then he looked my way and tilted his head to the side. Jerusalem has sent you a link to a limited party chat. It seems like it¡¯s what the team uses to communicate. Specifically with Jerusalem himself. So he¡¯d text into the team chat? Yeah, that made some sense. ¡°Gimme a sec,¡± I told him. ¡°If this chat¡¯s safe, I¡¯ll join it.¡± Nothing will get past me. I opened the chat, shifted it to the corner of my vision so that it wouldn¡¯t be too annoying, then adjusted its opacity until it was only barely visible. ¡°Got it,¡± I said. Jerusalem gave me a thumb¡¯s up, then a line of text appeared in the chat. Spider: The good money is in the bigger jobs. Spider: The bigger jobs take a long time. Or they¡¯re dangerous. Spider: I like danger. But not right now. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with danger right now?¡± I asked. That earned me a look from Garter which practically shouted ¡®are you a dimwit.¡¯ ¡°Didn¡¯t you notice the incursion? The big walls they¡¯re building on the edge of the city? The conscription? The club was half empty. A month ago the place would have been booming at this time of day.¡± ¡°Lots of good folk got themselves zeroed,¡± Coco said. ¡°You didn¡¯t notice.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°I noticed, yeah, just... guess I didn¡¯t think about how that would impact the... whatever you¡¯d call this kind of job.¡± ¡°Merc-work is fantastic right now,¡± Garter said. ¡°That is, if you¡¯re willing to sit on the front line for an hourly rate and pop aliens. A lot of low-risk work right now. So a ton of us have signed on with different merc companies and PMCs to go stand on the walls and blow up aliens and immigrants.¡± ¡°Immigrants?¡± I asked. ¡°People from outside the city,¡± Coco said. ¡°Every damned shelter¡¯s packed to overcap, there are more hobos on the streets than ever, the undercity¡¯s crawling with them. Every hotel, motel, flophouse and shithole apartment¡¯s taken. It¡¯s all those damned rural people trying to squeeze into our city and taking our shit.¡± I decided not to comment on her opinion there. Although, on the surface it made sense. New Montreal was surrounded by smaller cities and hundreds of little towns. All those people had to go somewhere. They couldn¡¯t stay out in the country when there was such a massive incursion going on, so they came here, to the big city, where the walls would keep them safe and where the locals were oh so welcoming. I kinda got where Coco was coming from too. New Montreal was a crowded shithole at the best of times. Packing it full with a few million extra souls wasn¡¯t going to improve anything. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Spider: Water¡¯s down across most of the city. Spider: Lots of corps are laying people off too. Spider: Things aren¡¯t good right now. Spider: Things are only going to get worse. ¡°Alright, enough whining,¡± Garter said. ¡°We¡¯ve got a job, people. It¡¯ll put credit in our accounts and food in our bellies. We can¡¯t complain too hard, can we?¡± Garter pushed through a door at the end of the corridor, and I was hit with a wonderful bouquet of rotten eggs and unrefrigerated meat. I placed a hand over my nose and blinked a few times as my eyes watered. The looks I got from the others, the sly little smiles and the motion of Jerusalem¡¯s shoulders, suggested that they knew what we were walking into. And that was some enclosed back alley. We were closer to the centre of the megabuilding, and there was a large shaft running from the top to the bottom of the building. A vertical tunnel filled with hundreds of AC units and balconies on every level where trash was dumped into large containers. There was a hovering truck above, currently grabbing onto one of those containers with a pair of heavy-looking forks. A few chunks of trash fell off the edge and I followed them down with my gaze as they dropped down and down and down into the abyss below the building. There weren¡¯t enough lights down there for me to guess at where it all went. Probably just under the city. I imagined there had to be a pile of lost trash down there tall enough to be a mountain by now. Maybe someone tossed something flammable down every so often, to burn some of it down. ¡°There¡¯s my baby,¡± Coco said as she moved over to an old minivan parked halfway off the edge of the balcony. It looked like it was just barely hanging on there. Coco¡¯s eyes flashed and the hovercar rumbled to life, the sliding door on its side screeching open even as she popped the driver side door open and climbed into an extra-wide seat. ¡°Get in,¡± Garter said as he hopped in himself. The back of the van had a couch along one side, and a couple of fold-out seats near the back. There were also some suspicious looking crates and the back of the passenger side seat had a gun rack welded to it. Jerusalem slipped to the front, sitting next to Coco with his knees folded up to his chest, and I found a place on the couch next to Rac while Garter slammed one of the unfolding seats down and then kicked the door closed. ¡°Right, job¡¯s on sub-two, under Nimbletainment Six,¡± Garter said. ¡°Is that the corp we¡¯re hitting?¡± I asked. ¡°Nah. NB¡¯s big, this is some numbers-company. Not that I¡¯d look too deeply into it,¡± he said. I, however, have looked into it. The job was given to Millenium Animal from a self-proclaimed gangster. The warehouse in question is being rented by a corporation whose name is a series of numbers. It¡¯s owned by another numbers corporation, which is in turn owned by a conglomerate. But digging deeper, the line of ownership ends at a Nimbletainment subsidiary. It seems like it¡¯s mostly a corporation set up to provide deniable resources to undisclosed projects. ¡°So, what are we going after?¡± I asked. ¡°We don¡¯t want to know,¡± Garter said. Experimental smart ammunition. Coco lifted us off, and instead of climbing like I expected, we dropped. The van had some lights on the front which flicked on and illuminated the interior of the tunnel as we descended. ¡°Job¡¯s about as simple as it gets,¡± Garter said. ¡°We rock up to the warehouse, Jerusalem disables their security, Coco breaks the door, and then we let our local pals rob the place blind.¡± ¡°What about corpo security?¡± I asked. ¡°Barely any out and about right now,¡± Garter said. ¡°Most of them were moved to keep corpo assets safe from the aliens. It¡¯s the only advantage we have right now in all of this incursion shit.¡± ¡°Good thing too,¡± Coco said. ¡°Cost of ammo tripled. Fuel costs have skyrocketed too. It¡¯s getting hard to be an indie merc right now.¡± Garter shrugged in an easy ¡®what can you do¡¯ kind of way. ¡°At least with so many mercs working for corps right now, it¡¯s easier than ever to get your rep up. Once everything cools down we¡¯ll be the top of the top, you know?¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. This wasn¡¯t the experience I was expecting it to be, but it was interesting all the same, and I was already along for the ride. *** Chapter Five - Funny Business Chapter Five - Funny Business ¡°Security, good security, is all about obscurity. If the enemy doesn¡¯t know, then whatever you want to keep secured is at its most secure. After lack of knowledge comes obfuscation, then misinformation, then, after all that, comes physical security.¡± --A Guard¡¯s Guide to CorpoSec, 2031 *** We dropped out under the city and right into that dark, cavernous world beneath the megabuildings, where massive pillars held the city in place and where the only light came as small glows from the holes above or from flashing red warning lights. Coco leaned forward, and Jerusalem reached up, flicking off the cabin light, as if that little bit less light would make us that much less noticeable. Fortunately, we didn¡¯t go far. Coco turned the van around and we started to rise. ¡°Sub-two,¡± she said as we crossed up past a large wall painted with the letters S3 and into another section with S2 stencilled on it. ¡°Going to find a place to park, or do you want us right at the door?¡± she asked. Garter licked his lips. ¡°Right up to the door. The street kids will be waiting near already. Should be clear.¡± Coco nodded, and the van came to a hovering stop before a grated metal door. Jerusalem leaned back in his seat, pulled out a wire from around his neck, then plugged it into a small device with a couple of blinking lights. The lights flickered, then the grate started to rise, opening up into a long corridor wide enough for a pair of trucks to slip past each other, if only barely. Coco¡¯s van touched down, and we continued to roll forwards, the hover engine humming to a stop. ¡°I hate these places,¡± she said as we rode down a tunnel lit only every twenty metres or so by some recessed lights above. ¡°No one likes these,¡± Rac said. ¡°They¡¯re dangerous.¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± I asked. ¡°Corpo routes,¡± she said. ¡°They carry corpo cargo. They sweep through these tunnels every so often. If you¡¯re caught in them, you¡¯re either gunned down, or worse, cleaned up.¡± ¡°Cleaned up?¡± I asked. ¡°Trucks that spray acid on everything, to sanitise things,¡± Rac explained. ¡°It¡¯ll melt your clothes to your skin. Then it¡¯ll just melt your skin.¡± ¡°Polyesters and plastics and hair,¡± Garter said. ¡°Real materials, leathers and the like, are fine. Metals too. They¡¯ll burn your eyes right out. And the water¡¯s hot. Very hot. But don¡¯t worry. Street kids wouldn¡¯t be here if they knew a clean truck was coming by. And besides, we¡¯re in a van, we¡¯re fine.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. Myalis helpfully added the tunnel to my map, then highlighted the entire network while zooming out. It travelled across the entirety of the city, a spiderweb of passages just under the city¡¯s skyscrapers. Or... no, it was in the spaces between them. Were the tunnels built into the seams between the plates of the city? Weird. The van turned a corner, and Garter jumped up and grabbed onto the seat behind Coco. ¡°That¡¯s them,¡± he said. I looked over his shoulder as well, a hand pressing to the ceiling to stay up. There were several small hoverbikes parked ahead, a few of them with trailers, and a single van not too dissimilar to Coco¡¯s, if a bit rustier. Accompanying those were about a dozen punks. The oldest in the bunch looked like he was only a year or two older than me. The rest all ranged from about Rac¡¯s age to mine. Teenagers in ratty clothes that only looked like a uniform of sorts because they all wore an uncomfortably large number of spikes. The leader¡¯s face was a mess of spikes. On his lower lip, his chin, across the bridge of his nose and eyebrows, and strangest of all, on his eyelids, so that when he closed his eyes there were two little needle spikes that covered his eyes. Spider: Who in the fuck are these guys? Garter glanced towards Jerusalem, clearly having received the same message. ¡°They¡¯re nobodies. But they¡¯re nobodies who paid. Come on, let¡¯s look like the pros we are. New girl...¡± He paused and looked me up and down. ¡°Just keep to yourself, don¡¯t ask questions, and try to just fade into the background.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said while resisting a smile. Garter nodded, then opened the side-door of the van. We loaded out, Rac having grabbed her plasma rifle so that it was slung low by her side. Coco was only armed with her... well, her very large arms, and Jerusalem stepped out of the van while loading a magazine into a little compact SMG. Then he loaded a second into another identical gun. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.Spike-face walked over to us, doing that guy-nod that men do when they¡¯re greeting each other. ¡°You the people Millenium sent?¡± he asked. ¡°We are,¡± Garter said. ¡°Just here to go in and out. No funny business.¡± ¡°We transferred the credits already,¡± Spike-face said. ¡°You¡¯ll get your pay once the job¡¯s done.¡± He reached into his mouth and fiddled with one of his piercings. ¡°Right,¡± Garter said. ¡°Where¡¯s the warehouse?¡± Spike-face nodded his head to the side, towards a closed garage-like door with a bubbled camera above it. Someone clever had sprayed the camera down already. ¡°Got it,¡± Garter said. ¡°Jeru, get the door. Coco, Raccoon, new girl, standby for trouble.¡± ¡°And here I thought we weren¡¯t expecting any,¡± I said. I checked my Trenchmaker, making sure it was nice and loose in its holster. I knew it was loaded and otherwise ready to go. Garter shot me a look, but didn¡¯t say anything until we were close to the door. ¡°Some jobs are easy, so you make them look hard. Some jobs are hard. Those you make look easy.¡± ¡°He read Sun Tzu once,¡± Coco said over her shoulder. Garter rolled his eyes, then tugged out his own gun. A little handgun, without anything real fancy about it. Jerusalem walked over to the side of the door and started to fiddle with a panel there. He paused, then turned towards Coco. Spider: Rip. Coco chuckled, walked over, then grabbed the plastic cover on the edge. She grunted, and the entire panel ripped out. Jerusalem bobbed his head in a nod, then tossed the cover aside, revealing a panel filled with connected wires and electrical doohickies. He pulled out a small wire from his pocket, connected two parts together, then pressed on a small button labelled ¡®reset.¡¯ A press later and the door started to rumble open. Then Garter sniffed at the air. ¡°Fuck. Masks,¡± he said. Coco tugged out a small rebreather from a pocket and shoved it on while Garter grabbed a mask from a pocket and slid it on, just a simple two-filter mask, slim enough to tuck away. Rac set her gun down and tugged a much bigger mask from her backpack, a proper full-face thing which looked very cold-warish. I sent a quick text to Myalis. ¡°Mask?¡± One moment, I¡¯ll get you something cheap but functional. It¡¯s in your right-side pocket, and you¡¯re down fifteen points. I reached into my pocket and felt something rubbery and hard in there. Pulling it out revealed... a mask. Though the front of it was moulded to look like a cat¡¯s nose, and it had teeny-tiny whiskers. I rolled my eyes as I pressed it in place and the mask sucked onto my face then held. It was clearly designed to fit perfectly onto my face, even as I wiggled my nose and jaw. ¡°Hey!¡± Garter called back to the street kids. ¡°Got deterrent gas. Mask up or shut up.¡± That sent Spike-face and his less-spikey friends scurrying for masks of their own. ¡°Is this normal?¡± I asked. Garter glanced at me, then stared at my mask for a moment. ¡°So-so. Just typical corpo shit,¡± he said. The door was fully opened by then, and I couldn¡¯t see any signs of any sort of gas, just a decently sized room, with a loading bay at the back and another garage door at about the right height for a truck to back into. ¡°Anything?¡± Garter asked Jerusalem. The man shook his head, then stepped into the room. We followed. ¡°Myalis,¡± I muttered real low. ¡°What¡¯s the gas?¡± I¡¯m detecting nothing. The air is slightly stale, and there are trace particulates, but fewer than what you¡¯d find on street-level. Then what the hell was all of that about? Then I glanced over to the street kids, cowering away while we walked in like big damned heroes and I caught on. Garter was putting on a show. The clever little bastard, he was making sure that the client felt like his crew earned their cost. Jerusalem was the first to the door, checking it up and down and obviously looking for something that he didn¡¯t find. Spider: Can¡¯t find anything Spider: Looks like a new door Spider: No exterior way to open it. ¡°Going to need to do things the old fashioned way, then,¡± Coco said. Everyone ran to the side, and Coco rammed her fingers into and through the sheet metal of the door. Then she grunted, and the entire thing crumpled in the middle. ¡°Raccoon, get in there,¡± Garter said. I tensed up, but then Raccoon tossed me her rifle and I caught it out of the air while she dropped to all fours and scurried under the door before I could protest. *** Chapter Six - Fine Little Fighter Chapter Six - Fine Little Fighter Robotics and automation go hand in hand with the growth of artificial intelligence. If a company can replace most of its white-collar workers with a few AI and AI services, then why shouldn¡¯t it do the same with its blue-collar force? So the entire field of robotics, once lagging behind, suddenly gained the attention and budget it needed to supplant humanity. --The Electronic Workforce, a report on digital and mechanical automation, 2025 *** Rac was a big girl who could take care of herself. She didn¡¯t need me. She¡¯d lived most of her life without me, and in some pretty awful conditions at that. So it was stupid of me to worry. But I did anyway. I was tense, Trenchmaker in hand, primed to run and gun at a moment¡¯s notice. Which was probably why I jumped when Coco tapped my shoulder. ¡°She¡¯ll be fine,¡± the big woman said. ¡°Raccoon might be new to all of this, but she¡¯s a damned fine little fighter.¡± ¡°Good merc,¡± Garter agreed. I gave him a look and Garter glanced around, as if searching for the reason I gave him exactly that kind of look in the first place. ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s a good kid,¡± I said. ¡°Emphasis on kid, though. I don¡¯t know what kind of stuff you guys do most of the time, but if this is an easy job for you, then your normal can¡¯t be all that safe. Rac¡¯s... Rac¡¯s her own woman, even if she isn¡¯t one yet. I¡¯m not gonna tell her what to do, or who to hang out with, but I will break fingers and blow out kneecaps if things go wrong.¡± Spider: Scary. Spider: So, what¡¯s your story? Spider: You don¡¯t smell corpo. I snorted. ¡°I¡¯m not corpo,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s what corpo says,¡± Coco replied, but she did it with a laugh. ¡°Focus, boy and girls,¡± Garter muttered just as Rac slid back out from under the dented gate. ¡°What did you see?¡± Rac sat on the ground, looking just a little flushed. She adjusted her full-face mask before she spoke. ¡°It¡¯s a loading room. Not much there. Some crates and stuff. But it looks like there¡¯s a few storage rooms. Big metal doors with electronic locks.¡± ¡°Nothing too bad,¡± Garter said. ¡°Did you see how to open the door, or will we have to crawl through?¡± ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s a button,¡± Rac said. ¡°But there¡¯s also a bot.¡± Garter swore under his breath, and I saw his stance shift, getting ready to fight. ¡°What kind?¡± Rac shrugged. ¡°I took pics,¡± she said before glancing at Jerusalem. The team¡¯s hacker paused for a long moment, head tilting to the side as if in thought, then he nodded and I got a ping from him. An image. An image taken with a shitty, lower rez camera. Rac¡¯s eye augs? I¡¯d never checked, but I imagined they weren¡¯t top quality. Probably something after-aftermarket. Still, the image was understandable. It was a wide shot, several all-metal double doors, maybe made of stainless or something, then in the shadowy corner, a big shape, like a trash can turned upside down. ¡°That¡¯s the bot, in the corner?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s not an android,¡± Coco said. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t have an android on security, not here where it¡¯s not meant to be seen,¡± Garter said. ¡°Jerusalem?¡± Spider: Just checking. Spider: Got it. Model PBY5788. Spider: 1.25m tall, .7m wide, cylindrical chassis, four articulated wheels. Lithium-ion cell batteries. Low centre of gravity. Can climb standard stairs. Armed with a 12.5mm compact machine gun. 40 round drum magazine. Tear gas dispensers are built into the chassis and provide an organic-disabling smokescreen that doesn¡¯t interfere with the PBY5788¡¯s thermal vision system. The PBY5788 is also armed with your choice of a self-reloading 75,000 volt Taser, or a sub-compact machine gun that fires standard 9mm NATO rounds! ¡°Did you copy-paste that from the manufacturer¡¯s website?¡± I asked. Jerusalem shrugged. Fair enough. I wouldn''t want to have to write all that down either. ¡°So, is the job a bust?¡± I asked. Garter considered it, then shook his head. ¡°No. Jerusalem, you detecting anything else? Turrets, more bots?¡± Jerusalem shook his head. ¡°Alright. In that case, here¡¯s how we¡¯ll do it. Rac, I need you right over here with your big gun. Jerusalem, get out of the way, monitor what you can, and let me know if more security goes off. Coco, I need you to the side. Get ready to move.¡± Garter glanced my way, then pointed to the ground nearby. ¡°Stand there, aim at the door.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the plan, Garter?¡± Coco asked. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°We know where the bot is, right? I¡¯m gonna stick my head out on the other side. Jerusalem, remember that fancy bit of trig you did on the casino job? Same idea. Raccoon will shoot the bot through the wall, and Coco, you¡¯ll pull me back out. Before the shooting starts.¡± I stepped back and watched them get to work. It was all... kind of boring. Garter got onto the ground, then stuck his head into the other side through the same hole Rac had slipped through, then he inched forwards until he could presumably see the bot. Jerusalem did some fancy math, then showed us a nice painting of a bunch of angles. Garter¡¯s head and eyes gave him an idea of the distance of the bot, then he used that to pinpoint where on the wall Rac would need to shoot to hit it. He made an X with a bit of gravel on the wall, and Rac shouldered her gun aiming at it. ¡°Pull me back,¡± Garter asked, and Coco tugged him out. ¡°Thanks. Raccoon, give me a second to plug my ears, then fire away.¡± Everyone tense up, then Rac fired. The recoil had her taking a step back. The wall didn¡¯t stand much of a chance as the shot blew a fist-sized hole in it. Then she adjusted her stance and fired three more times into the hole. Rac ran to the side, and Jerusalem tossed something through the hole while we waited. He nodded. Spider: One bot: dead. Rac grinned, and Garter patted her on the shoulder. ¡°Good work. If that¡¯s the only security... you see anything else, Spider? No, alright, get in, and get the door open for us, Raccoon.¡± Rac slipped under the door again, and a moment later the entire thing rumbled upwards, only to stop three quarters of the way up as the bent section met the top and it couldn¡¯t fold away. Still, it was more than enough to just step in through. ¡°No more security?¡± I asked. Not that I can detect. The bot was also offline to begin with. I sighed, but kept my thoughts to myself. Would Myalis have warned me if it wasn¡¯t the case? Should I have asked... I should definitely have asked. Fuck. ¡°Jerusalem, keep an eye out for more sec,¡± Garter said. ¡°Let¡¯s check the rooms, one at a time. Keep an eye out for more bots, and ceiling-mounted guns.¡± We checked the rooms. Or rather, the team did. They had a method for it, opening the door, then scanning everything within before moving in. It was slow, but it was careful. It took a good ten minutes to scan everything, and by the end, the piercing enthusiasts were chomping by the bit outside to get in. They¡¯d found some paper masks to cover themselves up, which really ruined the whole ¡®lots of spikes¡¯ vibes. ¡°Is it clear?¡± Spikey face asked. ¡°It¡¯s clear,¡± Garter replied, stowing his handgun away, which seemed to be the signal for the others to do the same. ¡°Come and get your stuff. Our part¡¯s done. Jerusalem, think you can do anything with that bot?¡± He gestured to the corner where the bot was. It had four holes that I could fit a hand through on one side, and the other side was an exploded mess of tangled metal and melted plastics. The interior had caught fire at some point, or maybe that was the plasma rounds doing their thing. In any case, the machine was properly fucked. Jerusalem glanced at the bot, then shook his head. Spider: Battery might be worth something. But It¡¯s heavy and I don¡¯t have the tools to extract it. ¡°Yeah, nevermind,¡± Garter said. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna waste half an hour down here for a few thousand credits that we¡¯ll have to split. Let¡¯s get going everyone.¡± The street kids started moving in and out of the warehouse, carrying crates with them in teams. But we just... left. Back to Coco¡¯s van, which she started up right away, and then we did a three-point turn and started heading out. ¡°That was it?¡± I asked. ¡°Like I said, easy job,¡± Garter said. ¡°You know, you didn¡¯t carry yourself that badly. Not a pro, but not bad. Might be some hope to get you as a merc. If you¡¯re looking for that kind of work, that is.¡± ¡°Ah, no thanks,¡± I said. ¡°My kind of work is usually... different from all of this. Well, not that different, but different.¡± ¡°Mysterious,¡± Coco said. I snorted. ¡°I¡¯m usually shooting a lot more things and more stuff is trying to eat me.¡± ¡°Ah, you¡¯re a cleaner,¡± Garter said. ¡°You work for a PMC?¡± ¡°Something like that,¡± I said with a dismissive wave. This whole thing was weird. And... yeah, these guys weren¡¯t so bad. Clean and efficient and probably better at their job than I was at mine. Maybe Rac wasn¡¯t doing so poorly. I¡¯d still worry though. *** Chapter Seven - The Kind of Work That Makes You Happy Chapter Seven - The Kind of Work That Makes You Happy ¡°You should be happy working, because work IS happiness!¡± --Sunshine Outlook: Global HR, 2035 slogan *** Coco landed her van in the same dank and stinking spot where we¡¯d found it earlier, then the bunch of us leapt out. I decided to keep the mask on, at least until we were filing back into the Barber Shop from the back and I felt like it wasn¡¯t dangerous to remove it. I noticed Rac doing the same, ripping off the full face mask and shoving it into her pack as a tangled mess of straps. ¡°That was a pretty clean job, guy and girls,¡± Garter said. ¡°Uh, Cat, was it? I¡¯d usually be all for paying you for the help, but it¡¯ll have to be something of a group decision, you know?¡± ¡°Huh? Oh, I don¡¯t mind skipping the credits,¡± I said. ¡°Are you sure?¡± Coco asked. Spider: She didn¡¯t do anything. ¡°He¡¯s right, I didn¡¯t do anything,¡± I said. ¡°Besides, it¡¯d take some of the credits you did the work for and it¡¯s not like you expected me to ride along. I really don¡¯t mind. If things had gone pear-shaped and I had to save your asses, then I¡¯d gladly accept your pay, but... yeah, that was a clean gig.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mind taking her share,¡± Rac said. Garter snorted, then ruffled her head. ¡°Cute, but no luck, kid,¡± he said. Rac pouted and glared at the ground, and I was pretty sure I was the only one that picked up her whiney ¡°I¡¯m not a kid, dammit.¡± We filed into the main floor of the bar, and I noticed that the dancefloor had gained a few more patrons since we left. The music was still the same, ancient jazz and swing with some heavy synths and electronics overlaid atop them. There was a new lady singing, a big chick with a big voice crooning in French about her big problems. Garter led us back to the same booth we¡¯d started in, and when he sat down it was with a big, weary sigh. ¡°Alright, let me get everyone¡¯s pay sorted out, then the first rounds on me.¡± We all slipped into the booths as well, with Rac and I sitting on the edge. I didn¡¯t figure I¡¯d be staying here for very long. Garter did as he promised, and the mood improved noticeably as Coco and Jerusalem got their pay. Even Rac was grinning wider. Then the conversation turned to guns, and Garter and Jerusalem started to argue with the same kind of tone I¡¯d expect from an argument that had been had before. ¡°So,¡± I said to Rac as I leaned back. ¡°Is this how it usually goes?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Only been at it for a few days,¡± she said. ¡°But... yeah, usually. I like to stay and eat after, but then I always get back home and back to work. The credits are good though.¡± ¡°Yeah, I can see that,¡± I said. She was probably making more than any line worker. ¡°Risky.¡± ¡°Just a little. Garter picks good jobs. Millennium Animal doesn¡¯t have bad clients,¡± she defended. I nodded along. ¡°Alright. Well... yeah, I guess I¡¯ve seen what I had to see. Would you mind walking me to the door? I might get lost on the way out.¡± She glanced at me, then at the exit, which we could see from our seats. ¡°Uh, okay?¡± I said goodbye to Coco and Jerusalem, shaking their hands and going through the usual pleasantries. Garter kept a hold of me when I shook his hand though. ¡°Hey. If you¡¯re ever looking for work.... Well, Raccoon hasn¡¯t said too much, but she might have mentioned that you saved her from a lot of trouble, and it looks like you came here today because you were worried.¡± He smiled, warm and honest. ¡°We can use that kind of person in our team.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I said. ¡°But I¡¯ve got my own sort of work, you know?¡± ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± he said. ¡°Stay warm.¡± ¡°You too,¡± I replied before ducking back. Rac followed me, but not without pointedly leaving her stuff at the table. She didn¡¯t say anything, not until we were out of the bar and had moved to the side, where a passerby would have to go out of their way to get within hearing range. ¡°You¡¯re going to have me stop working with them?¡± she asked. ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°You... don¡¯t want me to work for you anymore?¡± she asked next. I shook my head, then smiled. ¡°Rac, don¡¯t worry so much. I really did come out here because I was worried for you. If I was worried for you, then obviously I¡¯m not going to kick you to the curb.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Then... what was all this about?¡± she asked. I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m on vacation, and I was worried. It¡¯s not much more complicated than that. If you want to keep being a merc, then yeah, go ahead. Just be careful, alright? And maybe pick your jobs? We might be having words if your next job is less about robbing a corp and more... I don¡¯t know, blowing up an orphanage or something.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t take a job like that,¡± she said, arms crossing. I grinned, then rubbed her head, because it looked like fun. At least for the one doing the rubbing, Rac twisted out of the way and looked hilariously offended. ¡°If you need more ammo for that big gun of yours, don¡¯t hesitate. And maybe try to get some armour? I don¡¯t know if I have a catalogue that has any, but... maybe I can look into it. Oh, and... I¡¯ll have Myalis give me a catalogue with some basic cybernetics. Get your augs replaced. Yours are kinda shit. Your team, and you, will appreciate having better gear, trust me.¡± Rac hesitated for a bit, then nodded. ¡°Alright,¡± she said. I patted her on the shoulder. ¡°Go back, get that free drink from Garter before the offer expires, yeah?¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Rac said. She paused. ¡°Cat?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± she said. I grinned. ¡°No problem! Oh, and Rac? He¡¯s way too old for you.¡± Rac flushed, glared, then darted off without saying anything. I laughed, then spun on my heel and headed out. I figured that counted as my good deed for the day. Are you serious about that blueprint? ¡°Can¡¯t cost that much, can it?¡± That¡¯s true. I¡¯d suggest getting something in the two to three hundred point range, it¡¯ll give you several options for augmentations and consumer cybernetics on par with the best commercially available options. Also, if you want to prioritise Rac¡¯s safety, then perhaps an under armour blueprint catalogue? You have gone through a few sets yourself. It would only take a half dozen more for you to start saving money with the blueprint. I sighed. Myalis was probably right, though, and we did have some resources to spare. If any of the other Kittens decided to start running around the city causing trouble, then I¡¯d want them to have the bare minimum gear with them too. ¡°You know what, that sounds really fair, Myalis.¡± Thank you! We can discuss budgets if you want. Though that depends, what are you planning to do with the rest of your day? ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m on vacation, aren¡¯t I? I¡¯m done for the day, I think. Though... maybe it wouldn¡¯t hurt to plan for tomorrow¡¯s disaster on the walk back.¡± My bike was a good ten minutes away by foot. Certainly! Which issue did you want to tackle tomorrow, then? ¡°Right so... far as I¡¯m aware, there¡¯s the mayor that needs to do some explaining for me. Then there¡¯s the sewers. Shit, might have to take care of those sooner rather than later. The more we leave them alone, the worse they¡¯ll get. Oh, and the prosthetics thing. I started to set that up, then got distracted.¡± I see. Let me draw up a schedule for you. But first, a few more minor details. Did you want the mayor¡¯s visit to be done on official terms? ¡°Hmm... yeah, send him a nice warning that I¡¯ll be visiting him. Make it like, right after he¡¯s supposed to be done for the day, and tell him that it¡¯ll be ¡®wherever he is at that time.¡¯¡± I cackled to myself. Making politicians sweat was just fun and proper. Very well then! Tomorrow, the sewers. The day after, you¡¯ll have an appointment with the mayor. And then the day after that an appointment with the people setting up your prosthetics charity? ¡°Eh, we can do the mayor thing and the charity thing on the same day. Telling the mayor off can¡¯t take more than a couple of hours, right?¡± Yes, I¡¯m certain you¡¯ll be able to navigate through complex politics without any issues. I rolled my eyes. ¡°Come on, have a little faith in me. It¡¯s hardly complex politics. It¡¯s me threatening someone. I can do that in my sleep!¡± *** Chapter Eight - Checking Out the Stink Chapter Eight - Checking Out the Stink ¡°Rosetta Stone 2041 presents: North American Mid-level English! With our expertly-crafted, AI-enabled teaching software, you can become fluent in middle-management in only 720 hours!¡± --Ad for a Corpo-English language module, 2041 *** After coming back home and telling Lucy about my little adventure with Rac and the mercs, I spent the rest of the day... doing very little of import. I felt a bit bad about not spending time with the Kittens, so I bullied Nose for a while, put Bargain in a headlock when he tried to sell me a cola from my own fridge, and basically annoyed Junior and Katallina as much as I could without pissing them off too much. We played games, with Daniel kicking everyone¡¯s ass until I let Myalis join in and the AI found herself incapable of doing anything but playing perfectly. Unleashing an AI on a cart-racing game was just unfair for everyone involved. Before I knew it, it was deep into the night and the sugar and caffeine was wearing off. I took a languid, wasteful shower, then bought some PJs from Myalis, then I bought a second pair for Lucy when I discovered that when the Protectors decided to make something soft, it was disgustingly soft. We just cuddled, warm and soft and tangled up together in a way that was comforting and familiar until at some point I drifted off while Lucy was murmuring a story about some puppies she¡¯d seen online. I awoke when Lucy crawled out of my arms. ¡°Need to pee,¡± she mumbled sleepily, and I¡¯m sure whatever I said in reply was articulate and sensible before I rolled over and tried to sleep some more. But I couldn¡¯t sleep, especially not after checking the time on my augs, then checking my messages, then checking on some news. I had a tab open on news from Burlington, and it seemed like things weren¡¯t entirely dire over there yet. Lucy came back, and I snuggled into her, now fully awake but still just scrolling through news and memes and memes of news. Eventually I had to piss too, so I rolled out of bed and started to take care of my morning... almost-afternoon, ablutions. ¡°So, we¡¯re checking on the sewers today, right?¡± I asked. That was the plan, yes. I¡¯ve done some cursory research, and I think there are two points of interest that you should visit. ¡°Two?¡± I asked. Indeed. First, the City of New Montreal Sewage and Maintenance Headquarters. The main bureau. While they are more of an administrative branch, they do have connections to the entire sewer network. That seemed perfectly reasonable and logical. ¡°What¡¯s the second?¡± I asked. I discovered some toothbrushes in the bathroom in a little mug, then shrugged and picked the less-used one to brush my teeth with. Teeth care was not much of a priority at the orphanage. I wondered if my nano treatments had taken care of my cavities. The second location is the Family¡¯s New Montreal Headquarters. The organisation has become the centre of the local Antithesis-combat infrastructure, at least as far as logistics and administration goes. They have expressed concerns over the water and sewage issues in the city and might be able to assist you. Right, we both wanted to take care of the same issue, so it made sense to pair up with them and get things done. ¡°Is there a samurai on the case?¡± All of the local Vanguard are either working on the city¡¯s defences and clearing the surrounding area of remaining pockets of resistance, or they have been relocated to areas in more dire need of Vanguard support. With the exception of yourself, there are only five unoccupied Vanguard in New Montreal. Shit, things were a little more dire than I¡¯d expected, then. The unoccupied samurai might not even be active ones. Some of them just... retired or whatever. Laid low and minded their own business. So it was more or less all on me. ¡°What¡¯s Gomorrah up to?¡± Social media feeds suggest she¡¯s assisting in light cleanup duty along the walls. ¡°That sounds like work,¡± I said. She¡¯s testing new firebombs on suspected nest sites from a relatively safe distance. ¡°Ah,¡± I said. Nevermind then, that wasn¡¯t work, it was pleasure. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I stretched my back out, then started getting dressed. I found Lucy yawning awake and trying in vain to get her hair into some semblance of order. ¡°Morning,¡± she said. ¡°Heya,¡± I replied. ¡°Sleep well?¡± ¡°Mhm. I¡¯m never removing these pjs, Cat. Never.¡± She hugged herself, hands trailing over the fluffy material. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to learn to live with celibacy.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure I can think of a way to work around that,¡± I said with a grin. ¡°But maybe later? I need to get going. Need to see some people about some pipes.¡± Lucy frowned, looking rather confused for a bit before she shrugged. ¡°Okay? Well, be careful, and don¡¯t come back home too late. Or if you do, let me know? I don¡¯t want to worry.¡± ¡°Yeah, of course,¡± I said. I gave her a quick kiss before I started searching for my boots. It only took a minute to find the first one, but the second was hiding well enough that it was a while before I found it. Since I didn¡¯t know what to expect when heading out, I decided that more was better than less. I tossed on my coat over my skin-tight armour and grabbed both my Trenchmaker and a compact laser pointer... was it a submachine gun or an auto shotgun? I wasn¡¯t sure what the gun was, but it was relatively small and easy to carry on a sling. I grabbed a chocolate bar from the pantry on the way out, noted that it was probably the healthiest thing there and that we should do something about that, and promptly left without doing anything about it. My bike was sitting out front, next to my mech. I promised myself that I¡¯d get back to fixing that later on, whenever it was that I came back. But first... I was burning daylight. The skies over New Montreal were uncharacteristically clear, with large holes in the cloud cover above bathing parts of the city in bright sunlight. The rest of the cloudy ceiling was, of course, pouring a deluge of water onto the city. I tugged up the lapels of my coat and pulled on my helmet, making sure that my ears were properly tucked into their slots so that it wouldn¡¯t pull. Then I was off. ¡°Maintenance HQ first?¡± I asked as I circled our building. Certainly. I think it might be best to get a good look at the condition of things before requesting assistance. ¡°Requesting? I don¡¯t feel like begging,¡± I said. Purchase a larger gun and demand it, then. I snorted. ¡°Ah, yeah, demanding assistance. Help me or I¡¯ll shoot you is always super convincing, I¡¯ll bet.¡± It has been demonstrated to work before. It¡¯s almost a universal rule among intelligent beings evolved from predators that might makes right. I nodded along. My augs had the destination locked in, and fortunately, while the headquarters were basically on ground level, they weren¡¯t in the undercity. ¡°Do you know a lot of species that are... uh, is it sapient or sentient?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, whatever. I mean smart and also non-predator-based.¡± There are several thousand on record, many of them still live and thrive within the greater sphere of the Protectorate. Many find the idea of violence abhorrent. Often this is a great detriment when the Antithesis inevitably appear at their metaphorical doorstep. ¡°Damn, yeah, I can imagine,¡± I said. It¡¯s not always bad. Some species, especially those well-versed in agriculture and who have a solid technological and industrial base are able to hold out on their own for prolonged periods. I can get you a few documentaries on the subject. ¡°Heh, file that in for later. Maybe if we want to do movie night or something.¡± I wasn¡¯t super interested in the going-ons of some unknown species halfway across the galaxy from me, but not being interested didn¡¯t mean I wasn¡¯t a little curious. I refocused on my flying. I didn¡¯t need to crash into some car speeding by while distracted. I suspected that the training whatsit that I¡¯d taken to allow me to pilot my mech was also helping me with my bike, because even without turning on autopiloting I had a much better... feel for how to manoeuvre through the city. Which was why I punched the throttle to the limit and pressed myself against the seat, breaking every law in the books as I headed out on a quest to find some trouble and fix it to death. Chapter Nine - Useless Crap Chapter Nine - Useless Crap ¡°People are impossibly fond of useless crap. Slap a number on it, call it collectible, and make it even moderately interesting, appealing, sexy, or cute, and you¡¯ll trigger something real deep in that person¡¯s mind.¡± -- Clown ¡®Red Nose¡¯ McFace, CEO of GimmeUrCred, Non-fungible Physical and Digital Collectible Crap Publishing Inc. *** The City of New Montreal Sewage and Maintenance Headquarters wasn¡¯t a standalone building. It was relatively rare for a corp to have an entire building all on its own. Well, no, the really big corps owned downtown, but even they rented out sections of the megabuildings they held. What I was getting at, is that the NMSM Headquarters was located at the base of one of the older buildings in the centre of the city. It was a big, boxy thing, brutalist nouveau, with a few balconies sticking out of the side for old school AA emplacements. Basically, one of those first mega building projects that had gone up way back in the late 20s or so and which was probably showing its age in a million ways within. The seventh floor had been converted into a parking garage for hover cars at some point, so I drove my bike in and felt myself naturally trying to make myself smaller. The ceiling was way lower than it should have been, and the space was a disorganised mess. I parked on the curb next to an elevator and my augs flagged an incoming fine from the building¡¯s automatic parking system for the violation. I hopped into the elevator, then sighed. It had one of those shitty old touch-screen button panels, with the looping advertisements. I¡¯d have to time it so that I pressed the right floor between ads. ¡°Can you punch in the right floor?¡± I asked. I actually can¡¯t. The elevator isn¡¯t networked at all. It¡¯s floor 1, in any case. I shook my head, then stabbed a thumb against the screen after an ad for Molly¡¯s Miracle Mugs, which were just a collection of mugs with some dog¡¯s face on them, but they were collectible and had little cards that came with them, and I was sure this was exactly the kind of shit that Lucy would be into. The elevator rumbled down, bumping along a bit more than it should have, and I was already having some pretty serious doubts about the ¡®Maintenance¡¯ part of the New Montreal Sewage and Maintenance group. The doors opened up onto a plain corridor. A guy in a button-up was cursing at a vending machine. I slipped past him, following ceiling-mounted signs towards reception. There, I found a room filled to capacity with random people. Old men, old women, some small families speaking in something other than English, lots of random folk. Too many to fit the seats in the relatively small reception area. Button-up guy came up behind me, muttering while holding a can of soda to his head. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°You work here?¡± ¡°Not for long,¡± he said. He almost brushed past me, but I grabbed onto his shoulder, giving him pause. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, please take a ticket and wait. We¡¯re doing what we can here.¡± ¡°Yeah, I see that. Look, I¡¯m here to talk to whoever¡¯s in charge.¡± He shook his head. ¡°That won¡¯t work, half the Karen¡¯s in the room tried that one already.¡± He tried to move again, but I held him back, a bit harder, this time. ¡°Give me a sec,¡± I said. ¡°Myalis, can you send a nice message to everyone here¡¯s augs, the people waiting? Tell them that I¡¯m on the scene and that I¡¯ll have the sewage thing fixed as soon as I can, and if I can¡¯t, those responsible will be thrown off the roof by this evening.¡± Certainly. Message sent. My new pal blinked dumbly and lowered his soda as people gasped, then there was a small flood as first one, then more of them started to leave the reception area. Unfortunately, my entirely unplanned actions had entirely predictable consequences as every granny saw me and put two and two together. ¡°Yup, yeah, I¡¯m sure, that¡¯s nice. Sorry, coming through. No, I don¡¯t do handshakes, or autographs. I don¡¯t need to know about your nephew. I¡¯m gay. No, not the niece either. Excuse me,¡± I went through a small litany of excuses and gestured for people to keep moving. Fortunately, there was some momentum and those behind were pushing those ahead, and soon enough I¡¯d slipped into the reception room itself. ¡°Greetings,¡± an android said. It was one of those torso-only models, fixed into place behind a plexiglass wall to give people something to look at when they came in. ¡°Please take a number and wait. A representative of the New Montreal Sewage and Maintenance organisation will be with you shortly.¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said as I walked past it and to a side door. It had one of those biometric lock things. I barely glanced at it before Myalis had it open. ¡°Wait, wait,¡± button-up said. ¡°You¡¯re a samurai?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said as I started through a carpeted corridor lined on both sides by offices. The place had an internal map, which I downloaded and opened in my augs. It was just a basic floorplan with the location of different member¡¯s offices. And I realised that I had no idea how to deal with all of this. ¡°Hey, didn¡¯t I have an appointment here?¡± I asked. ¡°You did?¡± button-up asked. You did. ¡°Can you tell your bosses that I¡¯m here?¡± I asked him. He blinked dumbly. ¡°They¡¯re not here.¡± ¡°Well, where are they?¡± I asked. ¡°Which floor?¡± ¡°No, I mean... they left.¡± ¡°Before I arrived?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Last night. Just... up and fucked right off. Left middle-management to take care of everything. Which isn¡¯t so bad, since we usually don¡¯t need the C-suite for much.¡± One moment, let me look into this some more. Ah. It seems as if the organisation¡¯s entire C-suite has left New Montreal. Or nearly all of them. Two have spoofed some systems to make it seem as if they¡¯ve gone, but they¡¯re still within the city. ¡°Damnit,¡± I muttered. This didn¡¯t bode well. ¡°Button-up, what¡¯s your job and what do you do?¡± Button-up blinked, then stuttered out a quick reply. At least he wasn¡¯t too slow on the uptake. ¡°I¡¯m an accountant. I do accounting,¡± he said. ¡°Been here long?¡± ¡°Seven years,¡± he said. ¡°Good enough. Round up everyone in this organisation with a lick of common sense and anyone who¡¯s good at getting shit done. Is there a meeting room? Oh, there¡¯s a control room on the map, what¡¯s that?¡± He shrugged. ¡°The control room? It lets us see the state of the stuff we maintain. I¡¯m in accounting, I don¡¯t take care of that part.¡± ¡°Fine, tell everyone to meet me there in... call it fifteen minutes.¡± I spun on a heel and started down the corridor, only for button-up to run past me. He was sweating, and it didn¡¯t look like he was enjoying this all that much. Then again, more and more of the city was without water and without sewage, so a bit of sweat wasn¡¯t a big loss. I walked through the corridor, then started following the map, only slowing down to let some office drones move past. Most were human, but this office did employ a few literal drones that zipped around delivering papers and office... stuff. I ran into security halfway to the command room. Two overweight guys, looking particularly nervous, blocked my path before a sort of security station. It was one of those booths where you¡¯d need to present a card of something to be let in deeper. ¡°Uh, halt?¡± one of them said. The other smacked him in the side. ¡°Can we help you, samurai, sir?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°People aren¡¯t allowed on the other side?¡± Smarter-guard shook his head. ¡°No ma¡¯am, samurai, ma¡¯am. Command has sensitive information and systems, and not just anyone can be let in close to those.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Well, I¡¯m going in. And so are a bunch of others. Special circumstances and all that. The city¡¯s falling apart, and this place is supposed to prevent that and it¡¯s not, so... yeah, are you two going to help or will we be having problems?¡± I casually rested my hand atop my laser pointer. ¡°We¡¯ll help!¡± smarter said. ¡°How?¡± dumber asked. ¡°Just be real nice to folk,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe stand at the back of the room and carry anyone too annoying out when I tell you to. Are you all there is for security?¡± ¡°There¡¯s one more in the camera room,¡± Smarter said. ¡°We¡¯re all that¡¯s here.¡± Three people for three floors with some rather sensitive shit in them. Well, moderately sensitive. It was just the sewer controls, the worst that could happen probably was happening. ¡°Alright, fine,¡± I said as I continued. An alarm went off, probably detecting that I wasn¡¯t authorised personnel and that I was packing, but I kept on moving through. There was a city¡¯s worth of unshowered people to save! *** Chapter Ten - The Stink Chapter Ten - The Stink ¡°Sewage as a system was a mistake,¡± --Former Mayor Bennico of New Montreal, 2038 *** ¡°Can someone explain why all of this is the way it is?¡± I asked. I was standing in the command room, which was an old-school sort of place, with several dozen workstations all facing one wall with massive screens and holographic readouts on it. The workstations were a mess of knobs and buttons and touch-screens, with little keyboards at the bottom and enough stuff going on to put the average nuclear submarine to shame. Right now, the wall-to-wall main screen was displaying what looked very much like a readout of the state of the city¡¯s sewer system. Green, I imagined, was good. Orange was probably a little fucky. And red was bad. Everything was red. That wasn¡¯t quite true, there were a few sections still tenaciously clinging to their green-ness, but the orange was encroaching in, and there were a few splotches of orange in the sea of red. But it was mostly red. ¡°Um, are you supposed to be here?¡± a timid office-looking lady asked. She was behind one of the workstations near the middle of the room. I noticed that most of them were unoccupied, which was probably not ideal considering the number of warnings I was seeing on their screens. ¡°Who¡¯s going to stop me?¡± I asked her. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m here to fix this shit. And it definitely looks like a lot of shit¡¯s going on.¡± The door into the command room opened, and button-up stepped in, accompanied by four more clearly-reluctant employees. One of the guards (smart one) that had accosted me earlier followed him in. ¡°Miss Samurai,¡± button-up said. ¡°I¡¯ve gathered some of the people you asked for. This is Aaron Mitchell, head of cyber security, Brenda Rodriguez, she¡¯s the highest ranking member of our mesh-interface division, Charles Whitaker, he¡¯s an on-site engineer, Diana Nguyen, she¡¯s from HR, and Ethan Brown, he¡¯s the head of maintenance.¡± I nodded and looked over the group. They were all mostly office-worker sorts, though some of their work habits showed in their manner of dress. I, of course, instantly forgot all of their names and waved off the two who came to shake my hand and do proper intros. ¡°Alright, so shit¡¯s fucked, but I need to know what flavour of fucked we¡¯re dealing with.¡± Button-up glanced at his comrades who formed more or less a semi-circle around me. They glanced at each other, then one of them--HR chick, Nguyen or whatever--stepped up to the plate. ¡°Things aren¡¯t looking good on the employment front. We have the highest turnover rate we¡¯ve ever had.¡± ¡°How bad?¡± I asked. ¡°One hundred and thirty-seven percent.¡± I frowned. I wasn''t great at math, but that sounded wrong. ¡°How?¡± I asked. ¡°Nearly half of all the employees are gig workers, some are double-booked for several quarter-time jobs,¡± she explained. ¡°If they don¡¯t show up, and they haven¡¯t been, then things go... sideways. Usually we¡¯d just hire more, but the market for employment isn¡¯t optimal at the moment.¡± ¡°What she means to say,¡± the security head, Aaron, said, ¡°is that with the incursion, everyone has either fled, or is working for a PMC. The hiring is better, the pay is better, and a lot of people want to help on the front because otherwise it might mean that we¡¯ll all be eaten by the week¡¯s end.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°And the C-suite?¡± ¡°Gone,¡± Nguyen said. ¡°Okay,¡± I replied. ¡°Other problems?¡± The engineering guys looked at each other, and I could almost see the discussion passing between them over a private network. Finally, one of them spoke up. ¡°A lot of the maintenance personnel were gig workers, so they¡¯re gone. But even before that, we¡¯ve been lagging behind on maintenance for years. We¡¯re lacking tools, materials, people with training, access to the places we need to maintain, and the backup we¡¯d need to reach those places. Some sectors have been red for over a year and we can¡¯t do anything about them. Do... do you know who the Sewer Dragons are?¡± ¡°I¡¯m intimately familiar,¡± I said. ¡°Right. They did a lot of the deeper work. We¡¯d slip them materials, they¡¯d patch things up. We¡¯d get to mark it down as done without stepping into their territory. They gave up, broke apart, or something. Not answering calls, not in the sewers anywhere. Basically, if we want the work done, we need to do it ourselves now, and that¡¯s a problem since there are only maybe a hundred certified people left to do decades worth of work.¡± Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°Fantastic,¡± I said. ¡°So everything¡¯s all sorts of screwed, then?¡± He shrugged in a sort of ¡®what can you do¡¯ way, and I couldn¡¯t even be mad at him. Clearly people had been skimming from the top and the middle and the bottom, otherwise things wouldn¡¯t be as dire as they were now. ¡°Anyone else have problems to add to the pile?¡± I asked. ¡°Things have passed the event horizon of bad,¡± the other engineer said. ¡°It¡¯s going to get a lot worse, very rapidly. We¡¯ll have bursts on multiple levels, brown water will flood some levels, and with the automatic shut-offs, we¡¯re going to have pipes backing up in literally every megabuilding in the city all at the same time.¡± I closed my eyes for a moment, then glanced at the wall again. There was just a little bit more red on there than there had been before. ¡°Okay, cool, I need solutions.¡± ¡°The... the sewage system for the city was built piece-by-piece, often before the buildings connected to it were built at all,¡± the same engineer said. ¡°It cost billions then, and a lot of the parts had to be custom made. There¡¯s no... just replacing those. And that¡¯s what we¡¯d need to do if everything fails.¡± I glared at him, not that he could see it. ¡°I¡¯m not asking for an even worse assessment, I¡¯m looking for solutions. Can the system be fixed?¡± There was more discussion, with a lot of engineering terminology that was beyond me. But the consensus they came to was simple enough. Sorta. ¡°The worst of the damage can be mitigated, but we¡¯ll need a lot more hands working on fixing things. Then we can reopen things one part at a time.¡± I nodded along, then stepped back, turning so that I was facing the screen of red fully. They might not have been able to see my face, but I still felt better without making eye contact with... the people whose names I¡¯d all already forgotten. ¡°Myalis,¡± I muttered. ¡°What can we do here?¡± That would depend entirely on how much you¡¯re willing to invest into the problem. If you go all out, you¡¯ll end up quite broke, but New Montreal will have a functional sewer system by the end of the month. I checked the date. We weren¡¯t near the end of the month. ¡°Shit,¡± I said. The implication there was rather obvious. I wasn¡¯t about to sink all of my resources into sewage. ¡°Alright, so intermediary steps,¡± I said. Again, that depends on the resources you want to sink into the project. Do you want to give the maintenance people better equipment like you did for the Kittens in Burlington? That could be relatively inexpensive and will make them more productive, but with the current situation, it¡¯s unlikely to prevent a collapse, only prolong it. If you want, you could invest into drones and automated repair systems that would slowly fix the sewers. The more drones the faster they¡¯ll be able to fix things, but they would still need raw resources to work with. ¡°I¡¯m not going to be able to fix all of this on my own,¡± I said, both because I reached the obvious conclusion, and because I wanted the others here to know. A few shoulders slumped, but it seemed as if that was expected already. ¡°Which means... we¡¯re going to have to bully others for help. HR girl, I want you and everyone you can to cut the pay from the C-suite, split it between the rest of the employees evenly. My AI will send you instructions on how to empty their accounts too.¡± On it. I pointed to the engineers next. ¡°I¡¯m going to be threatening others until they come around to help. We¡¯ll still need you to do some work. Lots of it, even.¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± the head engineer said with a quick salut. He did have that ex-military bearing to him. ¡°Security guy... just, do your job, I guess.¡± ¡°Uh, okay,¡± security guy said. I nodded, proud of a job well done so far. If I couldn¡¯t fix the problem, then I¡¯d take a page from the Karen playbook and just bully the shit out of someone else to fix the problem. Which meant that my next stop was the Family¡¯s New Montreal headquarters. *** Chapter Eleven - Smiling Faces Chapter Eleven - Smiling Faces ¡°Corporate culture generally differs from company to company. If you¡¯re a job-hopper, you might suddenly discover that what was acceptable on one jobsite is no longer so on another. This can be confusing, or even distressing to discover. Nonetheless, there are some things that are universal, such as how to treat a higher-up, or how to handle HR!¡± --Job-Hopping and You! Article, 2046 *** I moved with a slight sense of urgency. Back out of the maintenance place, up the elevator, and straight to my waiting bike. I shot out of the side of the building, then up and into the sky, letting the autopilot do much of the work while I thought about the situation. Shit was fucked in a big way, and this was only the sewers. If something as relatively important as the waste and water systems were in this bad a shape, then how badly off was all the rest? Was the city¡¯s electrical grid about to go down? It¡¯s internet and mesh connections? Would public transport just... shit the bed? Actually, the last had done that from the moment it was built, but I could always count on it getting worse, somehow. The Family¡¯s HQ was relatively close by. They¡¯d stationed themselves closer to the newer downtown area, somewhere more or less between the NMSM Headquarters and my place, and when the Family installed themselves, they did so at the top of one of the bigger skyscrapers. There was a particular and not very specific distinction between a skyscraper and a mega-building. Skyscrapers were tall, thin buildings, sometimes fancied up with spiralling architecture and lots of glass. They were showpieces as well as living and working spaces. My new home was in a skyscraper. A mega-building was a fuck-huge block of concrete and despair. They were so fat and large that from afar they didn¡¯t look all that tall. It wasn¡¯t until you compared them to the skyscrapers next to them that you realized that they were about the same height. The highways and skylanes passed through the mega-buildings, because going around would add an hour to anyone¡¯s commute. That was less about the distance and more about shitty traffic, but whatever. I zipped by a couple of big blocky buildings, then back up towards the top of a skyscraper whose entire upper floor section was narrowed to a shiny point, like the end of a fat teardrop. The side of the swooping section was opened to the elements, revealing several floors of parking space for hovercars. Nice hovercars, I noted as I came in for a landing. There wasn¡¯t a mom van or old beater in sight. The cheapest car in the lot was a German import and it was only a couple of years old at most. The rest were all luxury sedans, mini-limos, and Italian supercars. I parked my bike by the side of an elevator entrance and then swung my leg over the side of it. By the time I was standing a man was walking out of the elevator at a bit of a rush and moving towards me. ¡°Stray Cat,¡± he said with a bobbing nod of his head. ¡°Welcome to the Family New Montreal Headquarters. I¡¯m Eric, I was assigned as your guide.¡± Eric the guide paused and quickly tugged his jacket on straighter then adjusted his tie before giving me a winning smile. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°Is this normal?¡± I gestured between the two of us. ¡°Of course,¡± he said. ¡°The Family exists to assist samurai, and so we¡¯re always ready to expect the arrival of one or the other. Is there anything in particular we can help you with?¡± I raised a finger at him in a ¡®one second¡¯ gesture. ¡°Myalis, did you tell them that I¡¯d be coming?¡± I asked. Because Eric here was out and ready to greet me in under a minute, and unless he was waiting in the elevator the entire time, that was just suspicious. I did notice that you were tracked on the way over. The headquarters has a number of radar installations around the roof that keep tabs on incoming and outgoing traffic. Your bike was flagged from a distance. So, this could be innocent. And I didn¡¯t really have a reason to be suspicious right out of the gate. Except I was anyway. ¡°Alright, thanks, Eric,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe you can help me.¡± If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Of course. What do you need assistance with?¡± ¡°The sewers,¡± I said. Eric blinked, but he pretty much instantly started to follow me as I headed towards the elevator. ¡°The sewers? Um, one moment... ah, there are a few outstanding reports about waste water management issues?¡± I glanced his way and noticed that his eyes had a particular glimmer to them. Was he connected to some local Family network? Actually, scratch that, it would have been weird for him not to be. We got into the elevator, and I noticed that I¡¯d gotten several pings to my augs since I landed on the roof. I idly checked them out. An invitation to the local wifi network, a link to some page with local rules, a few feel-good ads about the Family. Surprisingly, no pop-ups and redirection ads or any outright scummy shit. ¡°So, the sewer system for the city¡¯s fucked,¡± I said. ¡°Do you want the Family to intercede with the local authorities about it?¡± Eric asked. ¡°No, I did that already. They¡¯re fucked too, and those responsible fucked off. Might have emptied their accounts for them, though, so they probably won¡¯t go as far as they¡¯d wish. What we need right now is manpower, and a lot of people who know what they¡¯re doing. If we get on top of things, then maybe we can stop things from getting significantly worse. Hell, maybe we can turn things around and start actually fixing things.¡± ¡°And just to be clear,¡± Eric said. ¡°This is a priority for you, Stray Cat?¡± ¡°I¡¯m on vacation,¡± I explained. He nodded, as if that made perfect sense. I was getting this feeling from Eric, as if I could tell him that the moon was made of cheese and he would have nodded and agreed without an ounce of hesitation. The elevator door opened again, and I realized that we were on another floor. I hadn¡¯t even felt it moving. Eric stepped out, and then paused, waiting for me by the threshold with a smile that showed off how much he¡¯d spent on dental. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can help you,¡± he said. ¡°Right,¡± I said. I was more than a little doubtful about that, but I decided to keep my opinion to myself. The elevator opened to a lobby area, with comfortable leather seats to one side and a faux fireplace against the other wall with a big screen TV above it. It was properly fancy, and something about it set me on edge. ¡°Please, sit down,¡± Eric said, obsequiousness turned to the max. ¡°Do you want anything to drink? We have water, all the sodas, any sort of liquor or alcohol?¡± ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Are you certain? There might be a small wait,¡± Eric replied. He had his hands together and bowed a bit as he spoke. ¡°A wait?¡± I asked. ¡°Until the people who will address your issue have time to gather,¡± he replied. ¡°Right,¡± I said. I looked around the room, then back at Eric, who stood there, just smiling. Weird fucker. This place was giving me more and more bad vibes. I started walking off deeper into the building. Eric followed, his footsteps echoing out ahead of me. ¡°Myalis,¡± I muttered. ¡°I¡¯ve got a bad feeling.¡± Interesting. I can¡¯t see anything wrong at the moment. Then again, there is suspiciously little to find in terms of electronic signatures. There are entire floors of this building that don¡¯t have cameras and where phones and cybernetic augmentations are shut down. Extra creepy. What was this place, a blacksite in the middle of the city? ¡°I... don¡¯t think I give a shit,¡± I said. ¡°Are they reacting to me being here?¡± I asked. Yes. I can see a few executives preparing for a meeting with you. I sighed. This was growing increasingly frustrating. I didn¡¯t want a meeting, I wanted to tell some idiots what needed doing so that they could jump and do it. ¡°Miss Stray Cat,¡± Eric said. ¡°If you would follow me, the meeting room is this way?¡± I bit my tongue. For now, it was probably worth it to just play along. The Family struck me as somewhat corpo, so it made sense that they¡¯d do things their own way. But if they tried to string me along and waste my time, then I¡¯d have to see about expediting things. Also, I just really enjoyed a good excuse to make some CEO shit themselves. They were infringing on my vacation time, after all. *** Chapter Twelve - The Taste of Boot Chapter Twelve - The Taste of Boot ¡°Unlike any aesthetic of the past, transhumanism is a permanent one. You might outgrown your goth phase, you might decide one day that you don¡¯t want to only wear pastels anymore, and maybe work will force you into an officecore look, but replacing your arms with tentacles is a far, far more permanent statement of aesthetic value, far more so than even something as semi-permanent as a tattoo.¡± --Excerpt from Vagrant¡¯s Future Fashion Blog *** I hated this very much. The moment Eric the bootlicker led me into the room, I knew I¡¯d hate it, but I still respected the Family. The organisation had been helpful in the past. They¡¯d bankrolled PMCs to help, they had their own troops, and they were in contact with a multitude of samurai. A few of the samurai that I¡¯d consider friends, or at least acquaintances were part of the group. Longbow, Deus Ex, a few others. So I didn¡¯t want to ruin the Family¡¯s day by throwing a fit. They did good work. But leading me into a boardroom, with one of those massive all-wood tables surrounded by expensive office chairs and with screens on the walls rotating through promotional crap? That was really, really pushing it. The room was filled with half a dozen people wearing properly nice suits and nicer smiles. They asked me to sit down, buttered me up with compliments, and asked me if I wanted anything to drink. When I cut through and started talking about my problem of the day, the sewers, they were all terribly attentive. I got a panoply of ¡®hu-huhs¡¯ and ¡®go ons¡¯ that rankled. It was like getting constantly splashed in the face with lukewarm water. Annoying, but not something that¡¯d kill me. It just felt like I was wasting my time in a big way. ¡°So,¡± I said. ¡°Can you help me?¡± The yes-men and yes-women looked at each other, still smiling their empty smiles, then the next one whose turn it was to talk nodded. ¡°Of course. The Family exists to help the samurai. If you deem this issue to be of vital importance in safeguarding humanity, then we¡¯ll do everything we can to ensure that things get done in a timely manner.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. That''s what I wanted to hear. Which was why it bothered me so damned much. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan here?¡± ¡°Well, first, we should have some people check out the situation below,¡± Yes Woman One said. ¡°And then reconvene with their findings. It¡¯s only reasonable to know what kind of work needs to be done before we set out,¡± Yes Man Four said. ¡°We should hire some professionals. Perhaps set up a council to direct the efforts,¡± Yes Woman Two added. ¡°Can¡¯t have people not know what to do and where our attention will be best spent. You suggested that you might be able to deploy some samurai-grade equipment to help?¡± ¡°Yeah, a bit,¡± I said. I looked over the group, eyeing them one at a time. ¡°How long do you think this will take?¡± They looked between each other again, then collectively shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s impossible to tell,¡± Yes Man One said. ¡°From your report, it seems like the infrastructure had been left unmaintained for a long time. It might take months to bring everything back to standard. As for patching things up more temporarily, it¡¯s impossible to tell with so little data to work from. We¡¯ll be sure to put every effort into repairing things, however.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. Not what I wanted to hear, exactly, but a perfectly reasonable and realistic answer. So why was it rubbing me the wrong way? The meeting ended with a flurry of handshakes and thank-yous and lots of back patting. I was left with a long list of items that the Family would ¡®enjoy¡¯ in order to help them accomplish what I¡¯d asked them to. Was that the catch? But the list was literally what I was willing to offer to begin with. A few hundred suits capable of functioning in the sewers, some tools from plumbing, a number of repair drones and their blueprints. Myalis tallied it up, and it added to nearly ten-thousand points, but that felt... low? ¡°Myalis,¡± I muttered as I left the boardroom. Eric was, of course, waiting for me just outside, but at that point I¡¯d stopped caring much. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Yes, Catherine? ¡°What was all that?¡± From what I can tell, they are being, for the most part, honest. ¡°Most part?¡± I suspect that any equipment you give them will be carefully observed and catalogued, and the moment it is no longer in use, it will be deconstructed and new patents will be drawn up. In light of that, it¡¯s possible that in the long term, the Family might make more money from your involvement than it would cost them. ¡°For sewer maintenance tools?¡± I asked. I¡¯m aware you have no way of knowing this, but most Vanguard who purchase items either buy things to improve their quality of life, or items that allow them to better kill the Antithesis. Tools meant to be used by ordinary people are an uncommon purchase. It stands to reason that they¡¯d be more valuable than a new weapons platform. ¡°Huh.¡± I said. That actually made some sense. And it made me feel better. Was that the only way they planned to screw me over? Probably not, but at least I knew of one of them. That was reassuring. The only way to deal with a corp was to know how they¡¯d fuck you over, or be prepared to mess them up in turn. Being a samurai changed that a little, but not nearly as much as I might have thought before becoming one. It just gave me more tools to be the one doing the messing, it didn¡¯t change the basic equation. ¡°Can you keep an eye on them?¡± I asked. Certainly. Though some members of the organisation have already reached out to several plumbing companies within the region, it seems as if they¡¯re attempting to hire independent gig-workers as well. So, they were getting to work, and without all the jerking around I was expecting. ¡°Okay... okay, cool,¡± I said. Maybe I wouldn¡¯t have to throw a fit after all. That was nice. As I left the building, I couldn''t help but feel a slight sense of disappointment. The meeting was professional, and their answers were technically correct, but there was something off. Maybe it was the dissonance between their fancy office and the grimy, failing infrastructure I had just seen. Or maybe it was the overly polite, corporate way they danced around the issues. I paused outside of the building. The exit wasn¡¯t so far from the edge, and on a whim I walked over to it. Eric didn¡¯t follow. I imagined that he was sane enough not to want to stand on the very edge of a very long fall, not when there was little protecting us from the wind. Looking down, I could see all of New Montreal, or maybe just this one half of it on this side of the building. I was tall enough here that few buildings pushed higher. The city being this massive from up high put things into a weird perspective. The individual problems of the people below were minuscule, but at the same time, this was a massive place, and anything that I didn¡¯t fix like the sewers would hurt millions. Maybe that was it? The upper-echelon of the Family were detached from the rest of the city, living so high above it all. They didn¡¯t see the grime and shit. That was my world, though. They were in their clean suits, surrounded by glass and steel, talking about problems like they were numbers on a screen, while I was the one who would have to go down there, get my hands dirty, and deal with the issues at hand. "Time to get back to the grind," I muttered to myself, looking one last time over the cityscape. My vacation was on hold until this got sorted out. I was eager to get back to work on my mech, eager to spend time with Lucy, but not so much that I¡¯d just let things fall to the side and let the world go to shit for so many. You still have an appointment with the Mayor tomorrow afternoon. ¡°I¡¯ll be there. He needs to answer for why this wasn¡¯t taken care of already,¡± I said. ¡°In fact, I think I can trace a lot of the blame here back to his office.¡± Let me look things over. The local government does have oversight over this sort of thing. Infrastructure maintenance is one of their primary duties. ¡°You do that,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to my chat tomorrow. Bet there¡¯s a whole lot to learn. And a lot to answer for.¡± *** Chapter Thirteen - Long Day Chapter Thirteen - Long Day ¡°Keep in mind that different vegetables need to be cooked differently. Organic vegetables are somewhat more fragile, and yet preferred by many. They need to be boiled, sauteed, baked or otherwise cooked before being cut and prepared for serving. Synthetic vegetables usually come pre-cooked at the right consistency and are pre-cut and ready to serve or mix into a larger recipe.¡± --Footnote in Home Cooking 2044 *** I walked into our bedroom, shuffled over to the bed while shucking off my coat, then did a half-spin and fell back-first onto the bed. ¡°Long day?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said to the ceiling. ¡°I had to deal with people.¡± ¡°Aww, poor kitty cat,¡± Lucy crooned. She moved over the surface of the bed, and soon I found her sitting just above me, soft pyjama-clad thighs on either side of my head. Her face hovered over mine, upside-down from my skewed perspective as she started to press her fingers into and through my hair. ¡°Wanna talk about it?¡± she asked. I let out a sigh, part frustration, part relaxation as she pressed into my scalp in just the right way. ¡°I headed out to see about the sewers,¡± I started. ¡°Mhm, you¡¯d mentioned it.¡± ¡°Yeah. figured they were kinda fucky, but didn¡¯t know how fucky they were, you know?¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s this corp called the... New Montreal Sewage Maintenance... something or other. I can¡¯t remember their name.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a terrible name for a corp,¡± Lucy said. ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d go with Sewageco, or something banal like Green Solutions.¡± I chuckled. ¡°Yeah. I think it was city-operated for a while, then it went private. At least, that¡¯s the impression I was getting. They¡¯re the ones who are actually supposed to be taking care of the sewage and water and all that.¡± ¡°Maybe Brown Solutions, then?¡± she asked. I laughed. ¡°Yeah, maybe. Got there and all the C-suite suits had run off. Myalis nabbed their bank accounts, but they¡¯re still off. I don¡¯t have the time or energy to chase after them. I swear, people are such... urgh.¡± ¡°They probably had a good thing going. Skim off the taxes people pay for maintenance, maybe keep some corps properly connected to the water lines for a little extra on the side.¡± I nodded. ¡°Yeah, the usual shit. It¡¯s not even imaginative. It¡¯s almost insulting how predictable it all is. I mean, come on, are we in a capitalist hellscape or a kleptocracy? Someone should teach these people to stick to their lanes.¡± Lucy leaned way forwards and pressed a kiss on my forehead. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Did you find a way to fix things?¡± ¡°Not really, no. Got the employees back on task, promised them some support, then ran to the Family. The non-samurai part of the Family¡¯s weird, by the way. Too many smiles, too much... enthusiasm. It creeped me right out.¡± ¡°Bad vibes?¡± ¡°Weird vibes,¡± I said. ¡°I think they¡¯ll actually try though, which is nice. If they don¡¯t, then I¡¯ll have to be disappointed at them.¡± ¡°Disappointed at them?¡± Lucy repeated. ¡°Mhm, I¡¯ve got all this stealth crap and rarely use it. Bet I can scare the smiles right off their faces if I apply myself a little. But I¡¯m on vacation. I¡¯m not supposed to be working this hard.¡± ¡°Did you just want to sleep it off?¡± Lucy asked. I groaned, then with a monumental show of effort, sat myself up. ¡°I¡¯m going to go play outside,¡± I said. Lucy snorted. ¡°You mean work on your mech? Go on, you are still on vacation. I¡¯ll prep you something to eat.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll cook?¡± I asked. Lucy had never cook-cooked anything before. Not unless it went in the microwave or came in a box. Making mac and cheese counted as cooking, I supposed, but that almost felt like a cop-out. She¡¯d arranged different ordered foods together into a proper meal once or twice, but that was about the extent of it. Her cheeks flushed, almost unnoticeably. ¡°I want to learn. You¡¯re just going to have to suffer through my culinary experimentation.¡± ¡°Whatever you say, chef Lucy,¡± I replied as I finally got to my feet. I decided to leave my coat on the floor. It was a bit heavy for mechanical work. Though... maybe it was raining outside? I wasn¡¯t so sure. In any case, I now had a good reason to build up an appetite. ¡°So what¡¯s on the menu today?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°I¡¯m not going to start with anything complicated,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I ordered some fish, and I have broccoli, and brown rice. Can¡¯t really mess that up, I think.¡± That did sound nice, I supposed. It wasn¡¯t a burger, but I¡¯d probably eaten enough junk food my entire life that I¡¯d ruined my own taste for proper, real food. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to step back and eat something mildly healthy for once. Which reminded me. ¡°Have you seen Rac?¡± Lucy nodded. ¡°She popped by for a few hours. Dumped some things in the printer room, then grabbed some food and ran off again. I think she¡¯s back to gathering stuff for the fabricator.¡± ¡°Did she tell you that?¡± I asked. ¡°No, but she changed from her going out clothes to her picking up trash clothes,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I think she¡¯s trying to keep her work clothes clean. Or at least, clean-er.¡± I hadn¡¯t noticed that myself. It made sense, of course, Rac looked like she wanted her merc friends to think highly of her, and that meant not being dressed in rags. Especially if she really did have a thing for that Garter guy. Of course, Lucy would notice that kind of thing. ¡°Let me know if she comes back. I just want to check up on her,¡± I said, then a thought crossed my mind. ¡°Have any of the other kittens been getting up to anything?¡± ¡°Not really,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Some of them are cheating on their lessons, the ones Miss Grasshopper signed them up for, but I figure learning how to cheat¡¯s a good skill too. But otherwise, they¡¯re mostly just chilling. Daniel¡¯s probably the only one who might move out. He¡¯s been finding odd jobs to do on the Mesh, and he left a couple of times to meet some online friends, and to walk around. Junior and Katalina are talking about finding work and living the high life, but I think they also like mooching off you, so don¡¯t expect them to just disappear.¡± That was nice to hear. I worried, sometimes. Just a little bit though. ¡°I¡¯ll be tinkering,¡± I said. ¡°Have fun!¡± I didn¡¯t find a jacket to wear out into the New Montreal drizzle covering the balcony out front, but a shitty raincoat was only a couple of points from Myalis. I still worried when I bought it though. I was determined to fix the sewers at some point, and I was willing to splurge about ten-thousand points into it. I¡¯d started my vacation with just shy of forty-thousand points. I¡¯d splurged here and there, spending some on stuff at home, on tools and drones and more security and some upgrades for the kittens. Current Points: 33,451 That was a good nest-egg. And I was seriously considering burning a third of it away. Fortunately, I was still gaining points. A dozen or so a day, even. Myalis said that it was mostly people using gear I¡¯d given them scoring some kills. Enough and I¡¯d earn a few points as recompense. So as long as the cleanup continued around Burlington, I¡¯d earn a tidy little amount. Emphasis on little. Stepping out into the rain, I walked across to my mech, then stretched out my back. ¡°Right, where was I?¡± I wondered aloud. Myalis must have caught on that it wasn¡¯t an honest question because her only reply was to bring up some schematics on my hud, a list of things left to take apart. The repair drone woke up and floated over, ready to assist. There was a lot to do, still, but for the most part the work wasn¡¯t so complicated that I couldn¡¯t think. It was nice to get lost in it, trying to undo a puzzle that was impossibly complex and which I had no hope of understanding in full, but where I could figure out little pieces of it, where I could tell what was broken and what needed replacing. It sounded like an ass-pull metaphor for what was going on with New Montreal as a whole. The city was broken. Not so much so that it wasn¡¯t functional still, but the break would spread and the problems would only get worse. I tackled the things on the list one at a time, and for the moment, I was mostly just ripping parts out and tossing them aside or handing them to the repair drone who floated them over to a bin. Maybe I could squeeze that into my metaphor too? ¡°Cat!¡± Lucy called from the entrance. ¡°Supper¡¯s ready! Come eat while it¡¯s still hot!¡± Now... how would that part fit in? Was Lucy and her supper the samurai, or was she... wait, no, I was overthinking this. ¡°Right, I¡¯m coming!¡± I called back. *** Chapter Fourteen - Mayoral Image Chapter Fourteen - Mayoral Image ¡°Protesting as a form of protest--that is to say, the gathering of large crowds rallying for change--is dangerous to the economy, to the health of the individuals, and to the health of a government. That is why taking immediate, violent action against the protestors is often recommended. It puts a complete stop to the protesting action early with a minimal loss of potential revenues and a heavy reduction in the amount of property damage suffered, all for the cost of a few lives.¡± --Copcore Promotion Material, 2029 *** I woke up an hour shy of noon the next day, and the first thing I did, while still half covered on the bed with a softly breathing Lucy next to me, was check my messages. There were lots. Most of them I dismissed while skimming through. The Mayor¡¯s office had sent me a reminder about our meeting in... about forty minutes. The Family sent a long form with requisitions and updates on the whole sewage situation. I rubbed at my fleshy eye as I read over a kindly worded message from Peter Silverbloom about that prosthetics clinic. ¡°Right. Forgot about that,¡± I muttered. ¡°Myalis, can we set up a meeting with him tomorrow?¡± Certainly. And good morning, Catherine. I was contemplating waking you up soon. You still have time to shower and dress for your meeting with the mayor. Did I want to shower and dress for a meeting with the mayor? No, no I did not. But I had to. Not only did I not want to come off as the sort of person that couldn¡¯t be held to her word, I also... wait, actually that was really the only reason. Well, that and I¡¯d just end up having to put off the meeting. Besides, the mayor had some explaining to do. The buck was supposed to stop at his corrupt office, not at my doorstep. I slithered out from under Lucy, giving her head a peck when she grumbled sleepily, then I trudged over to the showers and stood under scalding hot water for a while. The building had some sort of water recuperation and filtration thing going on, separate from the rest of the city¡¯s water grid. This was a luxury few people would be able to afford soon if I didn¡¯t get moving. With time ticking onwards, I rooted around the bedroom for something to wear, then decided to head out fully kitted. That meant a clean undersuit, good samurai boots and a long coat, all with enough stealth tech to make me a nightmare to corner. The helmet came on last. ¡°Make another note,¡± I said. ¡°We need to go clothes shopping at some point.¡± I couldn¡¯t just wear samurai stuff all the time. I needed threads for more casual stuff. Lucy was having fun printing T-shirts, but I sure as shit wasn¡¯t going to wear a shirt that said ¡®Wired Wrong¡¯ or ¡®My Girlfriend Has Vibrating Fingers¡¯ on it. The shirt with ¡®I Know Where Cat¡¯s Reset Button Is¡¯ on it was just too lewd to be seen in public. Although... it might embarrass the mayor. Oh well, next time. I was already dressed and I had twenty minutes to get to the meeting which was nearly halfway across the city from here. I snuck out the front of our place, noting that some of the Kittens were already up and some hadn¡¯t gone to sleep yet. I waved them goodbye before heading out. It was, of course, raining, so I slipped on my helmet (which I¡¯d definitely need to drive around anyway) then walked over to my bike which I¡¯d parked near the mech. Myalis was kind enough to punch in the location data before I¡¯d even started the bike up, so it knew where I was going before I even took off. The flight was what I¡¯d expect from a flight across New Montreal. Long and tedious, even if I was cutting across traffic and zipping through no-fly zones the entire time. The Mayor¡¯s office was in the city council building, which I noticed had a bit of a crowd forming at the front. Dozens of people, some with cheap signs, others with holographic projectors sending out banner messages over their head. Then there was the police and the news, all crowding closer to the front. Had news gotten out about the sewage? It was rare to see crowds gathering like this. Protesting was super illegal, and the cops weren¡¯t shy about opening up on a crowd. Then again, the city was in a deep shithole at the moment, and the cops lining up behind the fence looked a little... anaemic from up in the air. No big groups of fully armoured SWAT troopers, no combat androids, just a few dozen guys in light riot gear. They¡¯d get seriously fucked if the crowd turned on them. I hesitated. I could park nearby, somewhere discrete and out of the way, then slip into the building nice and subtle-like. Hell, I could park on the roof and kick my way in, then just walk over to the mayor and say hi. But those people were there protesting because no one was doing anything. At least, that¡¯s what I figured most protests were about. So I swept down and revved the engine on my bike before lowering it down right onto the steps by the front of the city hall building. Dust kicked up around me as I swept off the bike. The crowd was shouting, the cops were confused, but no one seemed willing to stop me. So I left the bike there, still on so that it wouldn¡¯t just tip off the side and roll down the steps. I felt a little under armed at the moment as I looked over the crowd. All I had was my Trenchmaker. I really had to get into the habit of carrying a bit more with me. Stolen novel; please report.A few calls of ¡®Stray Cat!¡¯ proved that at least a few people in the crowd knew who I was. Hopefully that¡¯d be enough to let them know that something was being done. I walked up the rest of the steps and checked the time. I was right on the dot as I crossed through the entrance. There were some more cops inside, hands on their short-barreled auto-shotguns, but none of them moved to do anything as I crossed the lobby to the receptionist. ¡°Meeting with the mayor,¡± I said. The young lady behind the counter, an actual human instead of a droid, jumped and nodded. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am, we were expecting you. The Mayor said he¡¯d meet you here.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. A pair of double doors to my left swung open and out waddled Mayor Dupont. He was somehow imposing for a man that looked part rat-part politician. His suit was impeccable and he looked freshly shaven and cleaned up. His gaze locked onto mine, beady, intelligent eyes curling up in the corners in a charismatic smile that I didn¡¯t trust for a second. ¡°Stray Cat!¡± he greeted as he came closer. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you here, and just on time too, very punctual.¡± I crossed my arms and pretended not to notice the hand extending to shake. ¡°Only because you¡¯ve got some explaining to do, Dupont,¡± I said. ¡°Ah, yes, I know, I know,¡± he said with a shake of his head. ¡°This city, I swear. So many problems and so little time. The sewers, the emergency election, the aliens chomping at the gate. It¡¯s quite exciting.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. He was being more... agreeable than the last time I¡¯d talked to him. That felt like it had been a long time ago, as opposed to just a week or two back. ¡°And what do you intend to do about it? I warned you that this would happen and now you have protestors just outside with no water and shit flowing out of the drains.¡± The mayor nodded. ¡°I know. We should have acted sooner. But I do intend to do something, and right now. If you would, please follow me.¡± Curious despite myself, I followed Dupont. He didn¡¯t head deeper into the building, but towards the exit I¡¯d just come in from. Dupont stepped right outside, one of his aides keeping the door open for me to follow after him. The noise of the crowd grew considerably as they saw him, and I imagined he was currently the image of a lot of hate. Then Dupont moved to the side, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and gestured to the crowd with a big winning smile on. An aide rushed over and soon a small drone-mounted microphone was hovering before him. ¡°My dear citizens!¡± he began. The crowd actually quieted down. ¡°I can see that you are upset, and rightly so!¡± he continued. Catherine, this is being broadcast across a number of channels. And I was right there, in the background, arms crossed but with the framing it probably looked like I was tacitly supporting him. The absolute fucker. ¡°Our city is facing a myriad of issues, and I assure you, they are not being ignored! It pains and yet gladdens me to see so many gathered here in protest. You are right to be upset but we will overcome this challenge together. We are too resilient, too tough to allow some adversity to put us down.¡± Dupont stepped to the side slightly and gestured back towards me. Suddenly I could feel thousands of eyes on me. How long had he been planning this for? Since I made that appointment? Did he know I¡¯d park out front? Fucker. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen and others, meet Strat Cat, one of New Montreal¡¯s own, a hero and symbol of the City¡¯s strength, and of course a valiant friend of the Dupont management and proof that we will solve your, and our, problems!¡± ¡°No,¡± I said. No one heard me though, one voice against Dupont¡¯s which was being blasted out from some speakers somewhere. ¡°Dupont, you sack of shit.¡± ¡°With the help of New Montreal¡¯s own samurai we will--¡± and on and on he went, political nothing, but people were listening because I was here. If I was in that crowd, what would I think? Samurai were fucking mythical to some people who didn¡¯t know better. I¡¯d been one of them, one of those to think that we could fix anything. And now Dupont was rubbing himself all over that image. I was only aware that I¡¯d pulled my Trenchmaker out of its hip-sheath when Dupont¡¯s voice cracked. Probably because the barrel was pointing unwaveringly at his head. ¡°No,¡± I repeated. ¡°Myalis, patch me in.¡± Done. ¡°You don¡¯t get to use me as a fucking prop to cover up more empty-promises. You were given a chance to fix things. I warned you already. Today was meant to be your second and last.¡± Dupont¡¯s own mic cut off. An aug? An aide pulling the switch? In any case, when he next spoke, it was just between the two of us. ¡°You¡¯re going to threaten me in front of this entire crowd? You can only get away with so much. I¡¯m the rightfully elected mayor!¡± ¡°You had power. Had. You wasted it, didn¡¯t even try to make things better.¡± My voice rang out over the square. ¡°Stray Cat, this isn¡¯t a nice image.¡± ¡°Fuck your image,¡± I said. Then, before he could talk me out of it, I pulled the trigger. Dupont flopped to the ground, the upper half of his head sprayed out behind him. The crowd, predictably, screamed. The cops were clearly undecided on what to do next. I turned to the crowd while tucking my gun away. ¡°Go home,¡± I suggested. ¡°Or don¡¯t. One way or another I¡¯ll fix this.¡± Waking up before noon was a mistake. It left me so damned grumpy. *** Chapter Fifteen - Empirical Chapter Fifteen - Empirical ¡°Though empirical evidence may have demonstrated that there¡¯s no such thing as karma, we still find ourselves attracted to the idea. It is so simple and elegant a system that it¡¯s hard not to begin to think that the world works on such karmic scales when we know it does not!¡± --On the Philosophy of Guilt, 2045 *** I rode my bike up and to the top of a skyscraper some dozen blocks away, then I slowed down and parked on the roof. Leaning forwards, I let my head thunk against the bar and closed my eyes. ¡°Fuck,¡± I muttered. The adrenaline was washing off. The image of what I¡¯d just done replayed itself. Of all the times I had to not miss. ¡°Fuck,¡± I repeated. Are you okay, Catherine? I nodded, took a deep breath, then just stewed in the moment. This was going to have consequences. If I was a smarter girl, then I¡¯d be able to guess at those, but right now, I had no fucking clue. Samurai were above the law. At least, that¡¯s how they acted. I¡¯d acted that way too. It was useful, it let me do shit without having to worry, it had let me save lives. I knew there were stories about samurai shooting politicians, mobsters, CEOs, but those had always sounded like legends. A cynical part of me, a big part, always suspected that those stories existed because it gave stupid rebellious morons like me a reason to believe that there was still some karmic justice out there. I¡¯d never seen a samurai blow up a politician¡¯s head on live TV. ¡°Wait. Myalis, was that being broadcast?¡± Mayor Dupont¡¯s speech? Yes. It was on television as well as several live feed sites. Do you want viewership details? ¡°Was anyone watching?¡± I asked. I sure as shit wouldn¡¯t watch anything like that. Cartoons would be a better waste of my time than seeing the mayor complain. Initial viewership was low, but news that the mayor was working with a samurai spiked viewership. Initial views say at around thirty-thousand and increased to two point two million at the time of your shot. ¡°Shit,¡± I muttered. The clips have gone viral. It would be a considerable amount of work to track down total viewership of those. It¡¯s safe to assume that it''s in the tens of millions already. It had only been a few minutes! I groaned. There was no hiding this. If it helps, initial views suggest a generally positive response. I imagine it will spread a lot more as the afternoon goes on. Yeah, no shit. Pre-samurai me would have been gobbling this shit up. The fat ugly mayor getting his skull vented after being a douchebag would have been like poetry... okay, so I was still kinda proud, but this was going to have consequences. I flicked a few buttons on my augs and made a call. Lucy picked up on the third ring. ¡°Huh?¡± she asked. She was very clearly still asleep. ¡°Hey Lucy,¡± I said, voice low and reassuring. ¡°I had the meeting with the Mayor.¡± ¡°Oh, yeah, okay,¡± she said. I heard her yawn, then shift around. She was clearly still in bed. ¡°So?¡± ¡°Lucy, how would you like to be the new mayor?¡± I asked. Lucy was quiet for a while. ¡°I¡¯m going back to bed. Night.¡± I blinked. ¡°She hung up on me,¡± I said. You did awaken her from REM sleep. Well I wasn¡¯t going to call her a second time, that would just annoy her. Taking a deep breath, I shifted on the seat of my bike, then gave it a bit of gas and rode off the edge of the roof. ¡°Let¡¯s head back to the Family HQ,¡± I said as I entered their address back into the bike¡¯s autopilot. ¡°The meeting with the Mayor was supposed to get the city to clear up some shit, get the ball rolling. Maybe they¡¯d need to expedite permissions or do some bullshit paperwork or whatever.¡± You suspect that won¡¯t be a problem any longer? ¡°Do you think whomever¡¯s gonna take his place is going to stonewall us?¡± I asked. It¡¯s highly unlikely. Yeah, I figured as much. Whichever poor intern or career politician had to fill in for Dupont would probably be pretty aware that they were more expendable than he was. If I was in their shoes I¡¯d be walking real carefully and jumping at shadows. The Family HQ approached and I glided to a stop in the rooftop parking lot, leaving my bike near the entrance. I took my time slipping off the bike, giving the family some time to figure out that I was here. ¡°Can I expect trouble here?¡± I asked. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Hmm... this is interesting. I froze up. ¡°What is?¡± Were they planning to off me? It wouldn¡¯t have surprised me all that much. I started to check my gear. It seems as if the Family was planning on assisting you with your sewer repair and reconstruction project. ¡°Was planning?¡± They had yet to truly begin other than to appoint some interns to start communicating with outside groups. One moment... I¡¯m in their communication suites. It seems like the work they did overnight was perhaps less than what they could have done if they put all of their efforts into the project. ¡°I was getting sidelined?¡± I asked. The fuckers. Then again, the Family was a big deal. They probably had a lot of work going on across a lot of the city, and beyond New Montreal as well. Was is the operative term. It seems that news of your interaction with the Mayor has reached the Family and that, in turn, has encouraged them to increase the priority of your mission. I was expecting the consequences of my actions to be negative for me. This sounded like it was pretty much the opposite. I started heading towards the elevator doors only for them to open up and for Eric to stumble out of the elevator. ¡°Miss Stray Cat,¡± he greeted. Eric was sweatier than I remembered him being, and the guileless smile of his had taken on a new look to it. ¡°We weren¡¯t expecting you.¡± ¡°I came to see how things were progressing,¡± I said. ¡°Ah... yes, of course. That¡¯s your prerogative. Yes, of course. Please follow me? The, ah, group in charge of your project are hard at work, but I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll make some time for you.¡± Cat, you might want to see this. I slipped into the elevator while Myalis brought up a small screen in my augs. It was a camera view from somewhere in the building. I recognized some of the people, they¡¯d been the smiling weirdos I saw last time I was here, three of them in an office. They were clearly panicking. The audio popped into my ear. ¡°She¡¯s coming! She¡¯s coming and we don¡¯t have shit to show her?¡± one of them was saying. ¡°Calm the fuck down. It¡¯s not that bad, it¡¯s been barely a day, she can''t expect us to be that far ahead,¡± another said. ¡°She can expect us to have done something!¡± shouty replied. ¡°We did do something,¡± one of the women shot back. She was a good deal calmer, though she lacked that smiling corporate calm that they all had yesterday. ¡°Let¡¯s present what we have and hope that it¡¯s enough.¡± I cut away from the camera feed and laughed. Eric spun around to look at me, but I waved him off. ¡°I saw a funny meme,¡± I explained. ¡°Ah, of course,¡± he replied. The elevator stopped at the same place as last time, and Eric went through the same spiel, asking if I wanted something to drink, and politely asking that I wait. It was a lot easier to wait when I knew that the people making me wait were the ones dreading the meeting. I had ten or so minutes of sitting around to do, so I split my attention between Myalis¡¯ spying and checking out some local media sites. The video of the mayor getting shot was out already. The official livestream had cut off nearly as soon as my Trenchmaker fired. Fortunately, there were some hundred-odd people in the crowd filming everything, so there were dozens of angles of the mayor getting hit. It was still weird seeing myself in third person. I couldn¡¯t help but notice how strangely I stood there. It looked like I didn¡¯t give a shit that a crowd was watching. It was weird. I should have been a little more self-conscious or something because this didn¡¯t look natural. Some people just had a gift for being charismatic while just standing there. I wasn¡¯t one of those people. ¡°Miss Stray Cat, they¡¯re ready to see you now,¡± Eric said. I followed him into a boardroom, the smiling faces were all at their places, grins fixed, but I noticed the sweat, I could almost smell it off of them. ¡°So,¡± I said as I grabbed the seat at the head of the table and pulled it away so that I could stand there. ¡°What kind of progress have you been making?¡± I asked. *** Chapter Sixteen - Board Meeting Chapter Sixteen - Board Meeting ¡°Not all of the new technology we have came from the Protectors. In fact, most of it is human-made. Human ingenuity counts for the majority of new creative technologies, and I won¡¯t waste my time listening to people who think that everything we¡¯ve worked hard to invent is merely deconstructions of alien technology.¡± --Bob Manperson, defending his companies patents in a congressional hearing, 2029 *** Corporate board meetings were a lot more enjoyable when everyone else at the table was aware that you might shoot them. It was a nice discovery to make, but one I didn¡¯t get to revel in for all that long. We were only half an hour into the meeting when my phone app went off. ¡°One sec,¡± I said as I stepped back from the table. After the first ten minutes or so, I started to regret shoving the chair away at the start. Sure, it made me more intimidating, but my feet were starting to ache from standing for so long. ¡°Got a call, I¡¯ll be back.¡± I stepped out of the room and into the corridor just outside while answering the call. It was from Lucy. ¡°You shot the mayor,¡± she said as an introduction. ¡°Hi Lucy,¡± I replied. ¡°Love you too.¡± She sighed. ¡°Cat, why are you on TV for shooting the mayor?¡± ¡°Because I... shot him?¡± I said. ¡°I can fancy it up, if you want?¡± ¡°Fancy it up?¡± she asked. I grinned. ¡°I ensured that his chances of re-election were diminished,¡± I said while trying to sound as snooty as possible. It worked, Lucy snorted on the other end of the line. ¡°You¡¯re such an idiot,¡± she said fondly. ¡°Also, no, I don¡¯t want the job.¡± ¡°You sure?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯d get a swanky office. And get to wear girlboss suits. You¡¯d look really hot.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think you should generally get into politics just so that you can wear nice suits and have a nice office,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Also, if you wanted to see me in a suit, you just had to ask. I¡¯m sure something could be arranged.¡± I laughed. ¡°I might take you up on that. We haven¡¯t done any shopping, have we? I was just thinking I needed some new streetwear. Maybe we can hit up some shops in a couple of days. Tomorrow will be busy, and today¡¯s a bust, but the day after?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind that at all. What are you up to now? Hiding from the cops?¡± ¡°Nah, cops wouldn¡¯t know what to do with me. I¡¯m at the Family¡¯s HQ, scaring them shitless. I think they were planning on being lazy about the whole sewer thing, even after I came here, hat in hand, asking for their help. Now they¡¯re reconsidering. It¡¯s nice.¡± ¡°Reputation¡¯s important. You just reconfigured the mayor¡¯s brainpan in front of a million people. That¡¯ll make people think twice about messing with you. That¡¯ll be good and bad.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. ¡°I¡¯ll have to see how it pans out in the long run. But, uh, there¡¯s no undoing that one. Even if Myalis went nuts and deleted all the footage, it¡¯ll still circulate.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t put the bullet back in the barrel?¡± Lucy asked. I shook my head. ¡°That was awful.¡± ¡°I try,¡± Lucy chuckled. ¡°Think the Family will be able to handle everything now?¡± ¡°No. I¡¯ll still need to help them so that they can help me, but at least they¡¯re taking it seriously now. I... should probably go.¡± ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ll be back soon? I¡¯m making submarines. I¡¯ve got chicken and bacon and turkey and tofu and six kinds of cheese.¡± ¡°Are you going to put any vegetables in the subs?¡± I asked. ¡°Where would I fit them?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t wait to try it out. Keep some warm for me, I should be back home in... urgh, three, maybe four hours?¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Love ya.¡± ¡°Love ya too,¡± I replied as I carefully hung up. I stood in the corridor for a moment, eyes closed as I let the stress settle. The back of my mind had been going for a while, worrying about everything all at once, but Lucy was okay with it, and she was probably right besides. This might be a good thing. Dupont deserved it, in any case. The ass was putting the entire city at risk with his bullshit. Maybe I could talk to some friends about it? Gomorrah had a level head for this kind of stuff. Though I wasn¡¯t sure about her stance when it came to shooting people as opposed to burning aliens. Oh well. Turning around, I stepped back into the conference room, grabbed the chair I¡¯d shoved aside earlier, and sat myself down at the head of the table. ¡°Alright, sorry about that. Where are we now?¡± If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. What followed was a fairly productive hour. The suits might have come here to appease me, but once they caught on that I wanted to work not just have my ass kissed, they started to actually put in the time to get things done. The meeting turned into a more spread out... thing, with the different suits making calls, checking over AI-drafted emails and riding the backs of some poor interns and underlings to push things along. Myalis was the real game changer, though. ¡°Huh,¡± I said after being quiet for nearly half an hour. That got some heads to rise, so I pointed to one of the office chicks. ¡°That company you hired, uh... Green Impact Ecological Sewage? They just took your cash and funnelled it away. They¡¯re not doing shit.¡± ¡°Um,¡± she said. ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll start the charge-back proceedings and send the contract to legal.¡± I nodded, then continued to skim through Myalis¡¯ reports. She was able to more or less verify every company, subsidiary, and independent contractor, which was impressive because with every hour that passed another couple hundred people were mobilised towards fixing the sewers. This was quickly growing into a project. I didn¡¯t like the idea of multiple levels of management, but with as many companies as there were working together all at once, it was going to be impossible to keep tabs on anyone without that kind of net. Maybe the Family¡¯s slow moves at the start were justified after all. Committees to arrange committees. ¡°Ah, Miss Stray Cat,¡± Eric said as he came over. If he had a hat he¡¯d be holding it in his little hands looking pitiful with it. ¡°We¡¯ve arranged a space for you to summon up the equipment you, um, agreed to provide, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°You guys in here keep up the good work.¡± The work was starting to move forwards. Slowly. The first people on site were inspectors. Independently hired ones, with at least a few years of experience and a low corruption index score. They were scouring the sewers right now, checking on the state of things and sending their findings back. It was bleak, for the most part. There were some areas that were better than I¡¯d hoped, mostly close to some corps that had decided to maintain things on their own dime for a while. Other parts were outright fucked. There was a section of a main sewer line that had collapsed months ago, the entire pipe breaking open as the earth shifted around it. Blackwater was seeping out into the dirt around the pipe and probably into the water table. When that pipe was large enough for two city buses to drive past each other within it, that meant that it was a problem. But it could, in theory, be fixed. It would just cost a fortune. That fortune had to come from somewhere. That somewhere was me. By all rights, it should have come from the city and its taxes, but the Family said that for whatever reason, the city bureaucratic engine was currently stalled out. I followed Eric through the headquarters until we reached a room whose door was only labelled as Warehouse 17. The corridors up until there were all the pretty faux-marble ones, with nice paintings every few metres and carefully placed sofas for guests to sit on, so it was a little strange when Eric opened a door into a room that really fit its name. Warehouse 17 was a warehouse. It was all cement and shelves, and the space was large enough to fit a dozen semi-trailers worth of stuff. There was even a forklift parked in the corner, and some garage doors presumably leading deeper into the building¡¯s less pretty sections. Eric handed me a computer pad before I could say anything. It had a list of the shit the Family wanted. Half of it was gear and equipment for the reconstruction. Multi-tools, small hand-held scanning devices, stuff that I could scrounge up that would be better than anything commercially available. It accounted for three-quarters of the budget. The rest were odds and ends. Different sorts of grenades, guns, ammunition, some gear, then a lot of household stuff that I happened to have access to from my catalogues. I sighed. The goal here was simple. I¡¯d give them fodder to deconstruct and they¡¯d bankroll this project off of the future profits. I¡¯d be getting my share of royalties from it, of course. Didn¡¯t stop me from feeling like a bit of a sellout. *** Chapter Seventeen - A Home Visit Chapter Seventeen - A Home Visit ¡°French was, until the fall of Canada and the dissolution of the province of Quebec, the official language of the Quebec region. It¡¯s still a language widely spoken today, with well over fifty percent of the population in the region being at least fluent in French. However, the language of the modern world is English, and without governmental oversight, educational reforms, and most importantly a powerful cultural background, most people in the region tend to learn English as a primary language.¡± --On the French of Canada, 2043 *** I arrived at home entirely exhausted. The sun had set already, so I¡¯d flown through the night with nothing to beat back the neon glare of the city. It wasn¡¯t that bad. After all, my current entirely-reasonable sleep schedule had me waking up a bit before noon, so it really only felt like lunch time, but at the same time coming home after dark made it feel like I¡¯d been working all damn day long. Plus it was a bit of an eventful day. Productive, sure, but eventful. I was a little surprised to notice a car parked out front right next to my mecha. The house had defences, and I¡¯d told Myalis that using them on media, police, or anyone that seemed annoying was totally fine. Once I got a little closer, I could see why the car hadn¡¯t been blasted off the roof. It was a muscle car, all sleek, aggressive lines and painted a black so deep that swallowed the light around it. I¡¯d recognize God¡¯s Righteous Fury anywhere. Which meant that Gomorrah was here. Or maybe Franny had taken the car out for a ride. That depended on whether Gomorrah would allow her favourite person to drive her favourite car. I wasn¡¯t sure which of the two sat higher on Gomorrah¡¯s list of priorities. I parked my significantly-less-cool-than-the-Fury bike a couple of metres away then leapt off of it. ¡°I¡¯m home!¡± I called out as I opened the front door. I removed my helmet and tossed it onto the nearest couch as I made my way in deeper. The kittens were spread out and around, doing their own things, and I got a few hellos from the older ones. Then Nose ran up to me and stopped right in my way with shining eyes. ¡°You blew up the mayor!¡± he said. ¡°Just his head.¡± ¡°That was awesome! Can I have a gun?¡± I considered it. The responsible thing to say was no. ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°But not right now. Maybe ask Grasshopper, she can give you like, safety lessons. Stop you from blowing your own head up.¡± I wasn¡¯t going to teach someone how to aim when I could barely figure out depth perception myself. I patted Nose on the head until he squirmed away, then made my way deeper in. There was some noise in the kitchen, someone laughing, some music playing at a fairly low volume. I paused by the entrance and looked in to find the kitchen more occupied than ever before. Gomorrah was sitting on the little island thing to one side dressed in casual clothes. Or as casual as Gomorrah ever was, which meant a blouse and button up sweater over a skirt that stopped below the knee. It was all very 1950s housewife chic. Lucy and Franny were by the stove, Franny cutting up some carrots with swift ¡®clack-clacks¡¯ of a knife while Lucy stirred something in a large pot. Lucy was in her PJs still, but with an apron tossed on, Franny looked like her style was more street punk than anything, but it was pretty toned down at the moment. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. I felt a little overdressed in my coat and skinsuit armour. ¡°Catherine, you¡¯re here,¡± Gomorrah said at the same time as Lucy shouted ¡°Cat!¡± Lucy abandoned her post to run up and give me a quick hug, a peck on the cheek, and a pinch to the ass before she grinned and ran back. ¡°I¡¯m cooking!¡± she said. ¡°I see that,¡± I replied before going over to the island. ¡°What are you two doing here?¡± ¡°Just visiting,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°Thought you could use some company.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you on vacation too?¡± I asked as I sat next to her. ¡°I figured you¡¯d have better things to do than spend time with the likes of me.¡± Gomorrah shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re not terrible company,¡± she said. ¡°Not great, not terrible.¡± Franny snorted at that, and I had the impression I¡¯d just missed out on an in-joke between the two of them. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad to have you over! You¡¯ll be putting Lucy¡¯s grub to the test? She made this fish thing yesterday that was pretty good.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Pretty good?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°If you want to taste fish again you might want to try a bit more flattery than that!¡± ¡°It was excellent,¡± I said. ¡°Best fish I ever had. Finger-licking good.¡± Gomorrah looked at me strangely, but I dismissed her concern with a shrug. ¡°So, enjoying your time off? I heard you were burning some stuff.¡± ¡°Testing some new equipment,¡± Gomorrah said. ¡°What about you, Catherine?¡± Should I continue to call her Gomorrah? She was in casuals, without a flamethrower or nun outfit in sight. It felt a little strange to call her Gomorrah when she was in the guise of a hot blonde from every teacher kink video ever. ¡°What about you?¡± Delilah asked. ¡°Urgh, I¡¯m doing half-days. Morning I work, evening I play. It¡¯s not working out so well though, as you can guess by the time.¡± ¡°Yeah, I saw you on the news,¡± she said. Her voice dropped a bit, keeping things between us under the cover of the noise Lucy and Franny were making across the room. ¡°Did you want to talk about it?¡± ¡°The mayor thing?¡± I asked. She nodded. ¡°Not really. Look, it¡¯s our job to fix shit. Kill aliens, keep people alive. He was making that last bit hard. I gave him a chance. He decided to fuck around. So... I did what had to be done.¡± ¡°Is that Stray Cat talking, or Catherine?¡± ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡± I asked. ¡°It was just Cat. There was a rat in my city and I dropped it at the city¡¯s doorstep, that¡¯s all there is to it.¡± Delilah nodded along. ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°Hey, if you two want, you can head out,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I want to tease Franny and that¡¯ll be hard to do with the both of you here. Besides, it¡¯ll be another half hour before this is done.¡± She gestured to the big pot still on the stove. There was some steam coming from it that smelled like... beef? I wasn¡¯t actually sure what she was making. A stew, maybe? ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°Have you seen my mecha up close? It got damaged and I¡¯ve been trying to fix it up.¡± ¡°You know how to fix things?¡± Delilah asked. I shrugged. ¡°Come, I¡¯ll show ya.¡± We stepped out and started across the living room when we ran into Daniel. The oldest kitten in the bunch paused in front of us, then eyed Delilah up and down. ¡°Wow, you are hot,¡± he said. ¡°Dammit, Daniel,¡± I said. ¡°She could literally light you on fire.¡± ¡°I know, I¡¯m warming up already. What¡¯s your casual name, hotstuff?¡± he asked. ¡°Wait, you know she¡¯s a samurai, right?¡± I asked. Delilah seemed content not to have to interact with Daniel at all. ¡°Yeah. That only makes it better, no?¡± he asked. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Daniel. Big fan.¡± ¡°Hi,¡± she said. Somehow Delilah managed to communicate ¡°I will skin you alive slowly¡± with a single syllable and a narrowing of her eyes. Daniel raised his hands in surrender. ¡°Okay! Cool. Nice to meet you, I¡¯m gonna... not be here.¡± ¡°Fantastic idea,¡± I said as he stumbled off. ¡°Sorry. He¡¯s a... hmm... fucking moron?¡± ¡°You keep him around because?¡± she asked. ¡°He¡¯s a kitten. Well, he¡¯s a little old for one, but it doesn¡¯t matter. Him mooching off of me doesn¡¯t really cost anything.¡± I held the front door open for her and we stepped out. It was a bit chilly out, and the wind was pretty strong, but it wasn¡¯t bad enough to need to head back in just yet. The mech and my deactivated repair drone were sitting where I¡¯d left them. Delilah seemed actually interested as I started to explain what I¡¯d been fixing on it. Unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t so smart or deep into the work yet, so I wasn¡¯t going to be able to hold up the conversation forever. ¡°You¡¯re actually moving things along nicely,¡± she said. ¡°Especially considering how much stuff you¡¯re doing all at once.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that bad,¡± I said. ¡°I... I wanna keep busy. It¡¯d feel wrong not to.¡± ¡°But we¡¯re on vacation?¡± she asked. ¡°Yeah, I guess. Doesn¡¯t change that I have to do something.¡± The wind hummed between us, and eventually Delilah nodded. ¡°I think I understand. Cat,¡± Delilah said after a brief but awkward silence. She brushed some of her hair away from her face. ¡°I think I need to ask you for a favour.¡± *** Chapter Eighteen - Home Chapter Eighteen - Home ¡°You want to buy a house? In this market? Are you delusional?¡± -- Someone, 2023 *** ¡°A favour,¡± I repeated. ¡°What is it? You need dating help?¡± ¡°Dating help?¡± Delilah shook her head. ¡°No, why would I ask you for dating advice?¡± Well, that was rude. ¡°Hey, why wouldn¡¯t you ask me for dating advice? Lucy and I have been steady for years. You think it was easy to convince her to date me?¡± Delilah blinked, then looked away across the city. ¡°Okay, I hadn¡¯t thought of that. I guess I just figured you two somehow skipped the dating phase entirely.¡± ¡°Well, we are both very horny,¡± I admitted. Delilah sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear it, please. I just know Lucy¡¯s putting ideas in Franny¡¯s head right now.¡± I laughed, then swept some hair out of my face. I needed a haircut one of these days. Also, my hair was humid as fuck. It wasn¡¯t even raining yet the city managed to make it feel like it was. ¡°So, what¡¯s this favour?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s a little awkward,¡± she said. ¡°I was already down to helping you with dating stuff, so I think we¡¯re past the ¡®a little awkward¡¯ phase.¡± Delilah poked me in the short ribs with a knuckle. ¡°Don¡¯t be an ass,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve got... domestic problems.¡± ¡°With Franny?¡± ¡°No, not with Franny, she¡¯s... nevermind my relationship, it¡¯s complicated, but not in a bad way. It¡¯s the rest that¡¯s a problem.¡± ¡°You mean with where you¡¯re living?¡± I walked over to one of the legs of the mech then sat down on it. The cat-like mech was sitting like a sphinx at the moment, so there was plenty of room to use it as a bench. A rather uncomfortable one, but still. Delilah looked around for a place to sit, then hopped backwards onto the head of my repair drone. The poor thing just sat there, frozen. ¡°It¡¯s the nuns,¡± she said. ¡°The... oh, right, you live in a nunhouse.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not called a nunhouse,¡± Delilah said. ¡°It¡¯s a convent. And an orphanage and school and a few other things all rolled into one. I didn¡¯t mind staying in the dorms a few months ago, before... all of this.¡± She gestured vaguely at the mecha and the house and the two of us. I took it to mean she was talking about all the samurai stuff. She became one a bit before me. ¡°But now it¡¯s getting to be a bit much. The head of the convent is insisting that I get their rooms, the others are either fawning over me or tip-toeing around and... and Franny and I can¡¯t get a private moment anywhere. I don¡¯t mind the attention, and it¡¯s nice to be treated well, but I grew up with these women.¡± ¡°Wait, are you an orphan? I don¡¯t recall that.¡± ¡°Me? No, my parents are... I don¡¯t really want to talk about them, to be honest. They¡¯d send me to the convent for nine months out of the year, so I feel better there than at home. But it¡¯s still getting to be a bit much.¡± ¡°So, you want me to put the fear of Lucifer in the nuns so that they leave you alone?¡± Delilah snorted. ¡°No. God no. They¡¯d like you. As weird as that is to say. You¡¯re like the embodiment of the ideal samurai, and they practically worship that idea.¡± I blinked. I was the what? There was no way that I was the ideal anything. Hell, Gomorrah was better at this job than I was. She had the whole calm and collected thing going. Or maybe someone like Deus Ex or Longbow or... well, not Grasshopper, she was cool but also clearly insane. ¡°You need a place to stay, then?¡± I asked, because I really didn¡¯t feel like opening that can of worms before dinner. ¡°Exactly,¡± she said. ¡°I was planning on asking you what you were doing with the rest of the space in your building.¡± ¡°Huh? Wait, you mean this building?¡± I tapped the ground with a foot. ¡°Yes, obviously,¡± she said. ¡°You know, I only own the top floor, right? I mean, we added to it, obviously, but that¡¯s all I own. If you want to live below, then... I guess, buy a floor.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t own the entire building?¡± Gomorrah asked. ¡°Really? Aren¡¯t you worried that someone might move in below and cause trouble?¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°They¡¯d have to be really loud to bother me. And any more... violent trouble can be handled with violence in turn.¡± Delilah shook her head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to live with neighbours I don¡¯t trust, not if I invested this much into a home. But I suppose no one will try anything. You did just shoot the mayor on TV. It sends a message.¡± ¡°Damn right,¡± I said. ¡°So if you want to move in, go ahead. I don¡¯t know who owns which floors, but I¡¯m sure they¡¯d sell to you. You can be scary that way.¡± ¡°Why not buy the entire building?¡± ¡°What¡¯s the point, I live here, not down there. I guess if I wanted more space or something. I might do the floor right under this level. It¡¯d be nice to have some storage space, and I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s not being used at all.¡± Delilah smiled. ¡°Atyacus has a list of owners and has sent a few feelers out,¡± she said. ¡°Thanks, Catherine. You really don¡¯t mind us being neighbours?¡± ¡°There¡¯s no window in my bedroom, so it¡¯s not like you¡¯ll hear anything kinky, and I¡¯d rather have you nearby than someone I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°Well... there¡¯s the fire risk.¡± ¡°I¡¯m very careful about fire,¡± Delilah replied. ¡°When will you be moving over?¡± I asked. She shrugged. ¡°As soon as I have a place. It might take a day or two. It¡¯s late, so I imagine anyone receiving my request might take a while to process it.¡± ¡°If they try to cheat you on the price, let me know. Apparently I¡¯m scary. Also, let me know when you¡¯re actually moving, I can give you a hand.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have that much to move,¡± she said. ¡°Good, less work for me, but I still expect free pizza out of it.¡± I grinned, then glanced at the front door. ¡°Speaking of, think supper¡¯s ready?¡± We stood and made our way back inside while chatting about homes and such. Delilah didn¡¯t have any house-related catalogues, but she did have a lot more points on hand than I did. She suggested pooling our resources a little to sabotage-proof the rest of the tower, which wasn¡¯t a terrible idea. I¡¯d placed a few turrets out and around the top floors already, to keep things safe, but with two samurai in the same building I expected that our security would need to climb a bit. Lucy was leaving the kitchen just as we got closer. ¡°Oh, cool, I was about to go fetch you. Come on, food¡¯s ready!¡± Franny was just finishing up setting the table with bowls and utensils, four sets of them. ¡°Are the kittens eating with us?¡± ¡°And making a mess?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Nah, I made enough for them, but they can eat out of paper bowls. Also, we need a cleaning bot.¡± ¡°A cleaning bot?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah, like that repair drone you have. There¡¯s stains on the stove that I can¡¯t get off, and I¡¯ll bet every last credit I have that the kittens will be turning this place into a dump before the month¡¯s out.¡± That.. was actually a fair point. ¡°I¡¯ll look into it,¡± I said. In the meantime, we¡¯d just need to clean things like they did way back in the day; by hiring someone poorer than us to do it. Lucy brought the pot over to the table, then started to ladle food into our bowls. It was a brown gooey stuff with chunks of meat and... beans? ¡°Is this chilli?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh, hey, I didn¡¯t mess it up so bad that it¡¯s unrecognisable,¡± Lucy said. ¡°It smells nice,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s real meat!¡± Lucy cheered. ¡°Or as real as what I could make with the printer, in any case.¡± ¡°So... real meat that didn¡¯t come from an animal?¡± I asked. Lucy shrugged. In her defence, it was probably better than the vat-grown shit we could order online. With everyone served, Lucy returned the pot to the kitchen, then called the kittens to get served. She very quickly handed over the job to Daniel though and returned to us. ¡°I¡¯m assuming you don¡¯t do prayer before eating,¡± Delilah said. ¡°I don¡¯t do praying in general,¡± I said. She shrugged, then took a spoonful. ¡°Hmm, this is good,¡± she said. I took a spoonful, shoved it in my mouth, and chewed for a bit before my eyes started to water and my mouth started to burn. ¡°Lucy, why is this so hot?¡± I asked. Lucy frowned. ¡°Was it a tablespoon of pepper, or a cup?¡± she muttered. *** Chapter Nineteen - Hardware Chapter Nineteen - Hardware ¡°In the 80s and 90s people kind of assumed that the future would be cyborgs. We have early sci-fi and movies like Robocop to thank for that, I think. There¡¯s something romantic about a person combining their weak flesh and powerful technology. Unfortunately, romantic and realistic aren¡¯t the same.¡± --Techtransitionalism, a video essay, 2040 *** I sat on my bike, adjusted my helmet, then finally decided to look at where I¡¯d be heading to. I had a noon-time appointment with one Peter Silverbloom, a man that I¡¯d met in person all of once and yet whom I still kind of just... trusted. Peter was a bit of a weirdo, but he wasn¡¯t a bad sort. In fact, it was the opposite. He struck me as very nice. Not a saint or anything, but maybe the closest thing to that in a shithole like New Montreal. His service record was basically nothing but volunteer and non-profit work, and not the hyper-corporatized sort that was flashy and self-serving, but actual get-your-hands-dirty work. And I had an appointment with him in about half an hour. ¡°So, where are you, Mister Silverbloom,¡± I muttered. I¡¯m assuming that was a rhetorical? ¡°More or less,¡± I said. ¡°Did he send his location for this meeting?¡± Via email three days ago, then he sent three corrections since. ¡°Wow, he really can¡¯t decide where to meet? Is there a common thread here? Should I be worried about traps or something?¡± I asked. My map app opened up and pins appeared in the locations that I assumed he wanted to meet in. They were all lower city spots, mostly close to the more urban parts of the city, but that was the only common thread that I could see at a glance. Every location is a different non-profit. I dug into it out of curiosity, and it mostly seems as though Peter is just a busy man. His attention is constantly being diverted to issues with different groups within the city. He is quite good at putting out metaphorical fires. ¡°Huh. I guess that makes sense. This guy¡¯s not gonna live long if he¡¯s spending this much time chasing after problems. He won¡¯t be able to fix every problem in New Montreal.¡± I turned my bike on and then gently rolled it off the side of the building. My flight drooped for a bit before I started to fly properly and then did a long, slow circle of our home. His success rate at solving those problems is quite impressive, and his record suggests someone who is genuinely selfless. I¡¯m happy to see you help him as it might help a lot of others. ¡°You know, he sounds like a pretty good candidate for being a samurai,¡± I said. I¡¯d never done any charity work before, and I was a bit of a bitch. I also couldn¡¯t picture Peter blowing up the mayor. He¡¯d probably convince even that old asshole to be a better man. Or he¡¯d try, at any rate. He has a lot of the traits that we search for. He lacks some others. I locked in the last location Peter had sent me into the bike¡¯s auto-piloting system, then let it lead me around and out across the city. ¡°I don¡¯t know. He sounds like a nicer guy than me.¡± Niceness is desirable. Peter Silverbloom is too nice. His desire to be diplomatic at all times would be a hindrance. There are other factors as well, though they might be difficult to explain because of your cultural background. ¡°My cultural background?¡± I repeated. You are human. You value human qualities. That was needlessly cryptic and a bit creepy. I decided to cut that line of discussion off, it wasn¡¯t going anywhere except to make me feel bad about myself. Besides, comparing yourself to others was a great way to fuck up an otherwise nice day. Still, the thought worried at me. Would Myalis be disappointed that she was stuck with my dumb ass if there were others out there that were so much better? I swooped down to the lower levels, then slipped into a parking garage on the ground floor. I could tell already that this place was a bit of a hole. The building was an older residential complex, long streaks of rust and grime clung onto the sides and the interior of the parking garage was filled with old beaters. Cars twice as old as me were crammed into the corners and it looked like a number of them were parts cars. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. There was a camp at the back of the garage, a few containers set in a semi-circle that enclosed a few tents and lean-to shanties. A few ripped apart neon-signs were stacked in the middle with a fire-hazard nest of wires leading to them. It provided a surprisingly bright light for that corner, which let me see the folk hanging around there. There were a lot of homeless people. Although... I supposed that they did have a home of sorts. I got off my bike and started towards the back where there was an elevator. Peter was on the fifth floor according to what I¡¯d gotten from him. One of the locals called out to me, asking me if I wanted some puff for cheap. I wasn¡¯t even sure what that drug was, but he raised a cheap inhaler my way, then took a hit from it himself and let out a giggle. ¡°Nice place,¡± I said as I slipped into the elevator and stabbed at the button for the fifth floor. I rubbed my finger off on my pants, the button was sticky. The elevator¡¯s stereo tried to play some ads, but someone had ripped the panel off and stabbed a screwdriver into it, so the noise was more of a gargling hiss that accompanied me until I made it to the floor I was heading to. The place was... old. Old and not terribly maintained. Paint was peeling and the stainless half-wall panels were marred by thousands of scuff marks. Still, it was more or less clean. Someone had swept the place and mopped the floors, so even if the flooring was cracked and worn down, it was still clean... ish. I checked the address Peter had sent and compared it to the imprint of some numbers left next to a doorway nearby. ¡°Weird place,¡± I said. As far as I can tell it¡¯s mostly safe. ¡°Mostly?¡± There¡¯s a drug production facility two floors down that doesn¡¯t meet even the loosest of safety standards, there are several dozen armed people on this floor, and hundreds more across the rest of the building, there are addicts and gang-affiliated people spread around you, but for the most part, the local threats are unlikely to be able or willing to harm you. ¡°Right, so mostly safe,¡± I said. The place Peter wanted to meet me at was in the centre of the building. There was an open space where a bunch of corridors came and met in what might have been supposed to be a sort of ¡®town square¡¯ area. There were two automated fast food places, a couple of boarded up stores, a pawn shop, and to one side a place called Death Bread, which was apparently where we were supposed to meet. I slipped into the entrance and took a look around. It was a bakery, of sorts. The food looked... actually, kind of decent. Next to all the prices--which were all in the low hundreds of credits, some even in the double-digits--were little plaques with expiration dates. Most of those were a few days ago. A young woman came up to me, she had a smile, and no eyes. Her hand reached out to shake, and I realized that it was a skeletal prosthetic, one of those older cyborg arms. ¡°You must be Catherine,¡± she said. The upper half of her face was a cavity with plastic skin and a trio of cybernetic eyes. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s me,¡± I said. ¡°You don¡¯t look like Peter, unless he had a serious makeover?¡± She snorted. ¡°Nah, Peter¡¯s in the back dealing with something. I can tell him to drop it, if you want. It¡¯s probably not that important?¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°So, you¡¯re his... assistant?¡± She shook her head a little. Her shirt¡¯s neckline was just loose enough to reveal that her neck was reinforced. ¡°No, I¡¯m Laura. Friends call me See-Three. Peter called me over for a consult, of sorts, if you wanna borrow the corpo term. Nice arm, by the way.¡± ¡°Thanks. A consult, huh?¡± Laura nodded. ¡°He said you were donating a bunch of prosthetics. Don¡¯t know where you¡¯re getting them, or what sort they are, but I know my metal bits better than anyone else.¡± ¡°How¡¯d Peter find you?¡± ¡°I work for a charity that fixes folks'' cyberware for cheap. Poorly installed gear is a nightmare. Cheap gear is awful. Combine the two and you can make someone¡¯s life not worth living real fast. Been there myself, so I try to help where I can.¡± ¡°That sounds like exactly what we need,¡± I said. A door further into the bakery opened, and Peter came out. He saw me, then smiled. It was time to get to work, it looked like. *** Chapter Twenty - Unsub Chapter Twenty - Unsub ¡°Everything today is based on a subscription system, why not air?¡± --AirCo, Premium Air Services, 2038 *** Peter was a weird guy. He was... too nice, if that made even a lick of sense. At the moment he was in a dress shirt and slacks, a corpo outfit by any measure, only it was clearly about half a decade out of fashion, his topmost button was undone, and it looked like his shirt had been pressed by someone unfamiliar with an iron. Somehow it all came together to make him look like someone who was professional, but not corporate, trustworthy but not infallible. If he was doing it on purpose, then Peter was way ahead of everyone else. If he wasn¡¯t, then he either had a damned good secretary or whatever dressing him, or his instincts were on point. ¡°Sorry for the delay,¡± he said as he racked his fingers through his hair. ¡°Just had to take care of a few things.¡± He smiled at me, then glanced at the cyborg next to him. ¡°Ah, I take it Laura¡¯s introduced herself?¡± ¡°As See-Three,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s up with that name anyway?¡± Laura shrugged, then gestured to her face. ¡°Three eye-sensors. The name just kind of stuck. Its gotten to the point that I¡¯m a little worried about switching out to something different.¡± Her eyes were pretty weird. Three short tubes poking out of a plate buried into her face. I noticed that Laura didn¡¯t have a nose, instead there was a small filter tab off to one side of her face with a tube running back to where her nose should have been. It was a bit of a fucky look. ¡°Makes sense,¡± I said. I didn¡¯t have rocks to throw from my glass house. Stray Cat was a lot harder to explain as far as names went. Hell, I had a house. I wasn¡¯t a stray. I¡¯d even go so far as to say that I was properly house-trained. I shook my head and refocused. ¡°Anyway. I¡¯m here for the thing we talked about a while ago.¡± ¡°You had prosthetics to donate,¡± Peter said. ¡°I remember, it¡¯s why I had See-Three come over. She¡¯s the best when it comes to this kind of thing.¡± ¡°I¡¯m hardly the best,¡± See-Three said. ¡°You¡¯re certainly better than I am,¡± Peter shot back. ¡°The only thing I¡¯ve got going for me are my augs and some body sculpting. Oh, and a pancreas.¡± ¡°Your pancreas?¡± I asked. I think my confusion came through because he chuckled at that, then waved dismissively. ¡°Family history of diabetes,¡± he said. ¡°I got some biomods for my pancreas... about ten years ago? Trust me, I couldn¡¯t stand being in this place if I couldn¡¯t handle some sugar.¡± I nodded and glanced around the bakery. Some of the stuff being sold here was probably not great when it came to that kind of stuff. Or something. I¡¯d never really been keen on looking at nutritional labels. ¡°Okay. Yeah, that makes sense.¡± ¡°So, what kind of stuff are we dealing with?¡± See-Three asked. ¡°I¡¯ve got a catalogue of basic prosthetics,¡± I said. ¡°Arms, legs, the usual bits.¡± ¡°Knees?¡± she asked. ¡°I... think those would be included in legs?¡± She shook her head. ¡°No, they wouldn¡¯t. Knees, hips, shoulders, they¡¯re tricky as hell. It¡¯s easier to get a femur-down replacement than it is to get a new knee. Knees are complicated. Making an entire leg is less complicated.¡± ¡°That seems counterintuitive,¡± I said. She shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s just how it is. We¡¯ve had good knees for a while, but they¡¯re still disproportionately more expensive.¡± I didn¡¯t quite get it, but it didn¡¯t sound entirely implausible. ¡°I think I can manage knees and the like too.¡± ¡°Where are you getting these?¡± See-Three asked. She looked between me and Peter. ¡°Or is this one of those things where I¡¯m better off not knowing?¡± Did she not know that I was a samurai? ¡°I have a machine that can print them,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ve got some other things in the queue as well, but as long as we have raw materials, we should be able to pump out about a dozen limbs a day.¡± ¡°Like with a 3d printer?¡± See-Three asked. ¡°Something like that,¡± I said. ¡°Did you have a place in mind, Peter?¡± He nodded. ¡°In this building, actually. It¡¯s why I wanted to meet here. I don¡¯t know if this is too far from your place to be convenient?¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°It¡¯s a ten minute drive, then another five to get to this floor,¡± I said. ¡°Not too bad, all in all. Probably significantly longer for someone that has to follow road laws. But yeah, I guess it isn¡¯t too bad. What about safety?¡± Peter nodded, then gestured to the door. ¡°Follow me, please?¡± he asked before leading us out. ¡°This bakery is something we set up about nine months back. We buy surplus, nearly-expired goods from a couple of places, then resell them here and in two other locations for as low as we can. It keeps people fed. When we were picking out locations this one felt pretty natural. This isn¡¯t one of the best or worst residential buildings, it¡¯s well connected to a few others, and the gangs that run this floor are pretty... amenable.¡± ¡°You had to negotiate with them?¡± I asked. ¡°Did it myself. I won¡¯t say that they¡¯re good people, they push drugs and prostitution and have a record that¡¯s longer than my arm, but most of them also live here. Cheaper food means a lot to them too.¡± I nodded along, then glanced around the open space. There was a decent amount of foot traffic here. A few families, some people on their own, a few people pushing carts and even a bit of mobility scooter traffic. It was a passing spot. I noticed the gangsters too. Just younger guys and girls, hanging out together on the street corners, watching people go by. A lot of them were watching me. I figured they could keep watching as long as that was all they did. ¡°When we took the lease, the corporation that owns these shops insisted that we take two lots,¡± Peter said. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t even negotiate otherwise. So we ended up with the bakery and this shop location over here.¡± Peter moved across the square to a second shop with boarded up windows. He stared at the door for a while, then there was a hard clunk as it unlocked. Tugging the door open, he gestured us in. It was dark, but I had enough sensors and shit in my helmet to make it seem as bright as if the entire place was lit up. I imagined it was the same for See-Three because she stepped in without a worry. ¡°Ah, let me... right, the lights breaker is down,¡± Peter said. He slipped past and towards the back. The shop might have been used for something else before, but it was hard to tell what. There were three booths to one side, without any chairs or anything within, but with mirrors on the walls, then a counter at the back. The only furniture left were some plastic chairs to the left. It was clear that at some point there had been dozens of ads or signs of some sort on the walls, but they¡¯d been removed, leaving discoloured squares behind. ¡°What was this place?¡± I asked. ¡°A Stop and Chop hair salon,¡± Peter said from the back. It looked like there was a small maintenance room back there, maybe with some storage or something. He was rummaging around with a little flashlight. ¡°Found the lights!¡± The lights came on with a click and a hum, bathing the space in bright neon white. It had looked nicer when it was dark. In the full light, the stains on the ceiling became more obvious, and the broken linoleum seemed far worse. ¡°It¡¯s... not the worst place,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m hoping that we can turn it around,¡± Peter said with a winsome smile and his hands on his hips. ¡°We haven¡¯t negotiated a price for the prosthetics, but... well, I felt like you were trying to be charitable, so I imagine that we¡¯ll be getting a fair price. I think that the cost of the prosthetic accounts for most of the cost with this kind of thing, right?¡± ¡°About two-thirds,¡± See-Three said. ¡°Maybe less, actually. When you get a new mod a good chunk of the cost is the mod itself, then the rest is the installation and whatever initial fee there is for your software subscriptions.¡± ¡°Subscriptions?¡± I asked. She nodded, then wiggled her hands. ¡°For software updates for your limbs and bits. Cheaper models cost more per month, higher-end gear is cheaper. Depending on how long you have something for, going better can save you a lot in the long run.¡± ¡°Well, we won¡¯t have subscriptions,¡± I said. ¡°And the prosthetics will be cheap. If you can make the price reflect all of that, then I think we might have a good thing going.¡± *** Chapter Twenty-One - Eternal Optimism and Petty Spite Chapter Twenty-One - Eternal Optimism and Petty Spite ¡°As climate change continues to grow in scale and scope, the world will continue to become less hospitable to humankind. We should have addressed this fifty years ago, and it¡¯s too damned late to do anything about it now, but that doesn¡¯t mean that we will just keel over and die without putting up a fight. It¡¯s why we seeded clouds across the entire planet. It¡¯s why we live in more and more cities with enclosed environments. The world might kill us, but that doesn¡¯t mean that we¡¯ll go out so easily. No, our death will be slow and painful.¡± --Professor U. Shuda Listened, Climate I-Told-You-So Expert, 2025 *** ¡°A lot of my plans hinge on the fabricator,¡± I said as I slowly flew up and through New Montreal¡¯s skyline. That¡¯s understandable. It¡¯s one of your largest purchases, and one that¡¯s primarily designed to allow a Vanguard to outfit themselves and produce an abundance of resources. It would be strange not to place it at the centre of your plans. ¡°Does every samurai get something like that?¡± I asked. One in eight Vanguard will branch out into some sort of production system. Most of these focus on making tools and consumables that they commonly use. As they progress, most Vanguard will also turn these production systems towards larger goals. ¡°So, like what I¡¯m doing?¡± Your actions have precedents. It¡¯s only logical that a Vanguard capable of producing goods should produce goods, and seeing as how Vanguard are chosen from among people that wish to help the world, it again only makes sense that they would use their abilities to provide goods and equipment to the wider world. I continued to think as I flew towards home. As I rose over the top of the majority of the towers around me, I was able to make out my place out in the distance. The weather was nice out, for once, a bit of sun coming out from between grey clouds. ¡°So, if there¡¯s a bunch of samurai making shit, why¡¯s the world still a shithole?¡± I asked. Are they things you¡¯re planning to make enough to improve the world as a whole, or are they just enough to help those you want to help right now? As a Vanguard grows in abilities, points, and power, the scope of the help they can provide grows as well, though this growth is more linear than you might expect. The world is a better place for them, it¡¯s likely that you just take a lot of the growth they provided for granted. Was that it? It made some sense, I supposed. Different samurai would care about different stuff. If I gave Gomorrah unlimited creation abilities, I bet she¡¯d invest in giving everyone a flamethrower, or she might invest in helping the nuns or whatever that she was used to working with. That probably would help the world in a small way. Someone like Grasshopper would probably invest a lot of time and effort into making educational stuff better, which would also help, in its own way. Hell, I was pretty sure she was already investing a lot of time and effort into doing that. I think she had a whole set of interactive children¡¯s books or whatever being made. ¡°Well, whatever,¡± I decided. I¡¯d use mine to make the shit I cared about better. For now, with just the one, it wasn¡¯t like I could change the entire damned world. I¡¯d start with what I could do on the scale I was used to working on, and if things didn¡¯t go to shit, I¡¯d see about expanding. The printer at home probably had one hell of a backlog already, so we¡¯d have to see about improving it, or getting a second one. Could I use the first one to make more of them, or was that cheating? I flew around the museum, then came to a nice, gentle landing out front. It was mostly gentle because I let the autopilot do all of the work; landing was hard. Stepping off the bike, I stretched my back out until it popped, then removed my helmet and shook my hair out. The air was damp and humid, but it wasn¡¯t raining for once. The parking space was still wet though, and I couldn¡¯t imagine the rain not picking up again before the evening was up. I barely made it to the front door before it opened and Lucy came strolling out. She collided with me in a hug. ¡°Hi!¡± Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Hi!¡± I said as I returned the hug. ¡°You¡¯re in a good mood.¡± ¡°When am I not? My eternal optimism is my third best feature.¡± ¡°Third best?¡± I asked. ¡°What are the other two?¡± ¡°My hair comes second, obviously,¡± she said. Her hair was nice, a big poofy ball of tightly knit curls that was fantastically bouncy. At least when the humidity didn¡¯t get to it. ¡°And the first best feature?¡± I asked. ¡°Boobs,¡± she said. I thought about it, then nodded. ¡°Boobs.¡± ¡°So, did you shoot any other politicians today, or was it a normal day at the office?¡± I snorted, then leaned down, chin resting on her head. ¡°It was a normal day at the office,¡± I said. ¡°Peter¡¯s still too good to be true. Met this cool chick with three cyborg eyes who does prosthetics stuff, and Peter set up a shop to get things done in. We¡¯ll start getting orders tomorrow. Ah, we¡¯ll have to convince one of the Kittens to help, or hire someone, but I¡¯d rather have one of the kittens do it. Peter said they could take care of transportation, have a van fly over once a day or something.¡± ¡°That sounds good,¡± Lucy said. ¡°And what will you do now? More tinkering?¡± The mech was just sitting there. ¡°Ah, maybe later,¡± I said. ¡°Hey, what are you wearing?¡± ¡°PJs?¡± Lucy said. She was in flannel pants and a big t-shirt with... I leaned back to read what was written on it, because I¡¯d been distracted by the boobs underneath earlier. There was a picture of a chibified kitten on the front, with a sword in its mouth. ¡°Katana Kitten?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s alliterative,¡± Lucy said. I shook my head. At least she had a nice, mostly harmless creative outlet other than her cooking. ¡°Want to go shopping for a bit?¡± I asked. ¡°I think I¡¯ve been complaining to myself about not having enough clothes for a while, and it looks like you could use some stuff too.¡± ¡°Oh, is this a shopping date, or just normal boring shopping?¡± Lucy asked. I grinned. ¡°It¡¯s whatever you want to make of it,¡± I said. Lucy bounced up to the tips of her feet and gave my cheek a peck. ¡°I¡¯ll get changed,¡± she said before running back in. I walked back over to the bike, then leaned up against it. ¡°I¡¯m gonna need a helmet for Lucy,¡± I said. Perhaps I should have encouraged you to purchase a fully-enclosed vehicle. In any case, an inexpensive enclosed helmet should only come up to a few points. When Lucy walked out--now wearing a skirt and an old blouse and my old jacket--I tossed her a brand new helmet. It was just a plain dark thing with a glass front... and a pair of protrusions on the top that looked suspiciously ear-like. ¡°Thanks!¡± Lucy said before fitting the helmet on. ¡°So, where are we going?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, where do you want to go?¡± I asked. ¡°Nowhere fancy,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe one of those cool markets, where people make their own shit?¡± I nodded along, then slid a leg over the seat of my bike. I scooted forward, giving Lucy some space to squeeze in before me while I locked in our destination. Myalis quietly helped me find a spot. It wasn''t exactly close, but being able to fly over the city made the commute easy. Plus I got to enjoy Lucy pressing herself into my back the entire time. We kicked off and took to the air, then I received a call from Lucy. ¡°You know, you could just shout,¡± I said as I answered it. ¡°And ruin my voice so early in the day?¡± she asked. ¡°I want to save all the screaming for later.¡± I grinned and shook my head. Lucy was being very... Lucy today. She started chatting while we continued to move across the city, talking about the progress some of the kittens had been doing and some of the long-distance work she¡¯d taken on. It mostly had to do with the kittens association we¡¯d left in Burlington. They were still reaching out to Lucy for help, and she was spending an hour or so a day just organising things and writing nasty emails to people she found incompetent. I enjoyed just listening to her rant about whatever came to mind. Lucy¡¯s eternal optimism was balanced by a deep and powerful level of spite and pettiness that she was always willing to use on the things that annoyed her. It was a nice way to cool down after a long day¡¯s work. *** Chapter Twenty-Two - Dress for Stress Chapter Twenty-Two - Dress for Stress ¡°I¡¯m not saying that counterfeiting should be punishable by death... but I¡¯m not not saying that.¡± --Bert McWeathers, Deputy Head of the Treasury Dept., Former United States of America, 2036 *** Pop-up stalls were a pretty common feature. A corpo would rent out some walking space in a busy part of the city, and overnight a stall would appear selling whatever. Those sorts were usually manned by some sort of android and would have out-priced stuff for sale. It was pretty normal to see one appear in front of a competitor¡¯s shop, just as a sort of insult, or as a way to drag customers away. It made for good artificial drama, and I remembered loving reading about two luxury brands being pissed at each other on social media. That was before I grew old enough to realise that both brands were owned by the same megacorp. In any case, pop-up stalls were kind of a neat way to switch things up in an area, but they had their limits. Lucy and I were heading to a corner of New Montreal that was known for its stalls. I¡¯d never been there before, because it was the sort of place that was a bit too exclusive to let the likes of me in. At least, that¡¯s what I thought. We circled a large building a few blocks over from the centre of the city. ¡°Finding parking here¡¯s gonna be tough,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Eh, I could park in the middle of the road,¡± I said. Lucy laughed. ¡°No, don¡¯t! That¡¯s just abusing your privilege.¡± I didn¡¯t comment on how I¡¯d done it a few times already. Instead I circled around another time while connecting my augs to the nearest building¡¯s parking system. It wanted me to download some parking app thing that¡¯d let me check on availability and reserve a place in exchange for a mostly subscription thing. Myalis seemed to take umbrage to that, and the system folded as she poked at it. My auto-pilot found a spot in the VIP section and I turned the bike in that direction. Slipping into a parking garage and past its security, we drove up a ramp and into the reserved section, then right into a nice open spot. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. Lucy pressed herself closer to me as she swung her leg off the back, then she hopped off properly and wiggled her helmet off while I stood. Her hair came out in a big poof, and I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°That¡¯s racist,¡± she said. ¡°What? How?¡± ¡°You¡¯re mocking my hair, just because it can¡¯t handle hats,¡± she said before placing the helmet onto the bike¡¯s bench. She ran her hands into her hair and tried to fix it, but the helmet had done a number on it. ¡°I think your hair¡¯s fabulous,¡± I said. Lucy sniffed haughtily, but I knew that look in her eyes. Lucy was a lot of things, and vain was certainly one of them. Not too much so, but she did enjoy a solid compliment. ¡°So, what is this place?¡± ¡°I imagine you mean beyond the parking garage?¡± I asked, then ducked her swat. ¡°It¡¯s a clothes place. Myalis helped me find it. It¡¯s basically an entire floor with nothing but pop-up stands and merchant stalls and stuff. It¡¯s a bit exclusive.¡± ¡°Oh, sounds fancy,¡± Lucy said. ¡°But you know, I¡¯m not all about that fancy stuff, right? I do need new threads, but it doesn¡¯t need to be something too chic. Those credits could be spent on something else.¡± I reached out and pulled Lucy in for a hug. ¡°I want to spend a lot of money to make you feel pretty,¡± I said. Lucy returned the hug. ¡°You¡¯re an idiot,¡± she said. ¡°And besides, feel pretty? What if I want to be pretty, hmm?¡± ¡°You¡¯re already the prettiest,¡± I said. Lucy laughed, light and chiming and very much pretty. Even after all this time it made my insides squirm. ¡°You¡¯re so cheesy, Cat.¡± ¡°Just a little,¡± I admitted. ¡°Come on!¡± It wasn¡¯t too far from the parking garage to the rest of the building. We stayed close as we rode an elevator down, then made our way through a few corridors. The deeper we went, the more people were around. Eventually we rode a travelator along with some dozen other people to a sort of toll booth. The booth was manned by a pair of androids checking people¡¯s ID and charging a small fee for entrance. It was just a thousand credits, about what someone would pay for a half-dozen cans from a vending machine. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. It was probably just enough to keep vagrants out and to pay for the security itself. Lucy and I passed without issues, which was nice. Myalis spoofed the ID thing, and I transferred over the entrance cost since... well, money wasn¡¯t as much of a concern, and while I could probably get in without paying, that seemed needlessly dickish. ¡°Welcome to the Arcade,¡± the android said in a smooth, feminine voice. The opening beyond the toll was a wide open space, but one with a wall just ahead of us, it forced people coming in to pick a side and move. The wall did have a large screen on it with a map that would switch out to ads every few seconds. ¡°Okay,¡± I said as I looked at the map, then I frowned as it switched out to another ad. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake.¡± Lucy giggled next to me. ¡°Right, uh, looks like the middle part is all corpo stalls. Fancy clothes and shit. The outer ring is smaller shops and, uh, it looks like single-worker shops. Bespoke stuff.¡± ¡°Bespoke?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the gimmick here. A lot of the smaller stalls on the outer ring are basically run and owned by the same people. So they sell stuff that they make. I think some of them even make things custom on the spot.¡± ¡°Oh, that sounds kind of awesome,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Expensive too, I bet, but yeah. There¡¯s supposed to be quick printers for harder parts and they have machines to put the clothes together on the spot. Some of them do things by hand too. You can get custom designs and gear.¡± ¡°That¡¯s pretty cool,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Where do we start?¡± ¡°I think that¡¯d be up to you,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re the one that needs more clothes more than I do.¡± ¡°You think you don¡¯t need new clothes?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°I mean, I can go out in samurai chic any day, it¡¯s kind of a universal fit that way, you know?¡± My gear probably wasn¡¯t appropriate for every place, but it was also samurai gear, which meant that I didn¡¯t need to fit in. Lucy reached down and grabbed my meat hand, then she pulled me after her. I jogged to keep up, then ran a little faster as Lucy lost her footing on a slight incline in the floor. She was still just a little bit clumsy. ¡°Right, okay,¡± she said. ¡°So obviously we need to work on your design.¡± ¡°My what?¡± ¡°Your look, your style.¡± I frowned. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with my style?¡± I asked. ¡°Is it the cat ears?¡± ¡°No, those are fine. The tail is too, when you have it. It¡¯s more.. Hmm, actually, your overall design isn¡¯t bad, but it¡¯s not all there. You¡¯ve got the long-coat and all-black gear going. The pink highlights are a nice touch, they break up the darker shades and give some things room to pop. The cat theme is pretty subtle overall too.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°But I think it could be better!¡± Lucy nodded. ¡°You don¡¯t really give off a strong image except for like, the impression that you¡¯re cool and dark and mysterious. At least to people that don¡¯t know you.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s bad?¡± ¡°Obviously! You could pivot around and be cute and cuddly. You do have a cat theme going, you know.¡± ¡°I absolutely refuse,¡± I said. Lucy turned my way and batted her eyes. ¡°But it would be cute,¡± she said. I poked her cheek. ¡°No,¡± I said. Grinning, Lucy continued to walk ahead. ¡°Alright, fine. Right now your look doesn¡¯t say much about you, though, at least not to anyone looking. You don¡¯t have a lot of visible utility stuff, so you don¡¯t come off as militaristic. You don¡¯t look sloppy enough to be casually cool. Dark and mysterious fits with the stealth stuff, but you don¡¯t have that... femme fatale assassin look.¡± ¡°Should I?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, you¡¯d need to ditch the long coat and wear much tighter gear.¡± Lucy licked her lips. ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea, actually. A literal Catsuit.¡± ¡°I... don¡¯t know about that,¡± I said. I wasn¡¯t uncomfortable in my skin, but the idea of wearing nothing but something entirely skintight was pushing it. I didn¡¯t mind being exposed at home, between just me and Lucy, but going out in public that way would make me way too self conscious. ¡°Hmm, that¡¯s fine too. Still, we have to work on your image! Right now you¡¯re the unapproachable girl that shot the mayor. That might work for some samurai, but I think you¡¯re the sort that wants people to work with her. So... wardrobe change!¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Three - Free and Compulsory Chapter Twenty-Three - Free and Compulsory ¡°With the modern love for quick fashion comes a modern dislike of trashed clothing. Fashion changes so quickly that by the time something is designed according to a new fashion, made, then shipped to its market, the fashion it was designed for might have moved on and become d¨¦mod¨¦. Which, naturally, leads to entire shipping containers being dumped. You can¡¯t unmake clothes and remake them, and shelf space is limited. It¡¯s cheaper to throw it all away and start over. It¡¯s unforgivably wasteful. If you¡¯re going to throw so much effort away, then why not save yourself some trouble, apply some skill, and make fashion that will never fade?¡± --Audrey Alice Darnell-Forsythe, president of Cutting Edge Fashion, 2051 *** ¡°What about something like that?¡± Lucy asked. She was pointing to a massive floor-to-ceiling banner ad in front of one of the shops in the inner circle of the Arcade. The shops and stalls here were all corpo clothing places. Not that the clothing they sold was necessarily corpo fashion. There were plenty of designer casual wear. Hoodies and t-shirts and jackets with looping .Gifs on the back or tracksuits with RGB stripes. The kind of shit you¡¯d never be caught wearing in a board meeting. Still, the brands were corporate, even if what they sold didn¡¯t fit that aesthetic. It looked more like... well, samurai gear, but cheaper. My jacket was a pretty good example of it. It was cut and tailored to fit me, the flaps or whatever they were called stopped exactly at the knee, the back part was fit precisely to my shoulder''s length, the front bit was bunched out just enough for my breasts. I¡¯d mostly worn hand-me-downs of hand-me-downs my entire life, and it was kind of miraculous to just get clothes that fit right. The last coat I had was way too tight at the front, and I couldn¡¯t zip the damned thing up, and the sleeves were too long. Anyway, I looked at the sign, then squinted a little. ¡°That¡¯s very corpo,¡± I said. The model on the banner was a tall, skinny woman in a pantsuit and suit jacket. She was strutting towards the viewer, but the camera was backing away at the same rate so she remained in focus the entire time. ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s hot,¡± Lucy countered. ¡°She¡¯s got that... I¡¯m going to top you energy going on.¡± ¡°You find that hot?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh yeah,¡± she said with a nod. ¡°Well... I guess you¡¯re right, it would be silly on you.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say that,¡± I said. She grinned. ¡°Of course not.¡± I glared at Lucy, but she just smiled smugly at me and pulled me forwards. ¡°It¡¯s not right for you anyway. You¡¯re too casually dangerous for that kind of thing. Plus it kinda goes counter to your cat-theme.¡± ¡°Cats can be serious and whatever that is,¡± I said with a gesture to the ad. ¡°Glamorous and graceful or whatever. Cats are notably like that.¡± ¡°Yeah, of course, but that¡¯s not the kind of cat you are.¡± ¡°What?¡± I asked. ¡°Then what kind of cat am I?¡± ¡°Alley?¡± I sniffed. ¡°That¡¯s just mean.¡± ¡°Alright, so maybe something more casual? But we don¡¯t want to be too casual, because casual and violence combined comes off as sloppy,¡± Lucy said. ¡°How do you figure that?¡± She slowed down, then leaned into me as we walked. It was something she¡¯d always done, at least until she needed more help to walk than just someone to lean on. ¡°Okay, so, you¡¯re walking down an alley.¡± ¡°Is this an alley-cat thing?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a joke,¡± she confirmed with a grin. ¡°Now stop interrupting, I¡¯m painting a picture with my words.¡± ¡°That¡¯s called hallucinating, and it¡¯s not good for your health.¡± She jabbed an elbow into my side, and I laughed. ¡°You¡¯re walking down an alley. It¡¯s night, so it¡¯s poorly lit. You¡¯re not in the safe parts of the city. Then someone steps out ahead of you and tells you to stop. What¡¯re the first things you do?¡± ¡°Shoot?¡± ¡°Cat,¡± she whined. I shook my head. ¡°Ah, okay, so, dark alley, it¡¯s probably a mugger, or someone like that. Your word-pictures are a bit stereotypical.¡± ¡°Okay, maybe, but what¡¯s actually the first thing you do?¡± I frowned. There was a hint of seriousness there. She was trying to make a point, and she wouldn¡¯t be able to if I didn¡¯t pay attention, so I did. I imagined the scenario, then shrugged again. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll look at the person, see if they¡¯re armed, then either bolt or fight.¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± Lucy said. ¡°So, humans are wired weird, right?¡± Tell me about it. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.I decided to ignore Myalis as Lucy went on. ¡°When we see a threat or whatever, we kind of instantly lock onto it and go through a mental checklist. Is it a person? Is it an animal? Is it an alien, which I guess folds into animal for hind-brain purposes? Is it something else? And if it is a person, then do we know them? If you worked for a corp and the person telling you to stop was in the corp security uniform, then you might be scared for a second but you¡¯d calm down. They¡¯re not a threat. If you¡¯re in a gang, and the person in the alley¡¯s in the same colours, then you¡¯re safe.¡± ¡°Right, okay,¡± I said. ¡°That makes sense. People are good at sussing people out at a glance.¡± Lucy nodded and was clearly quite proud of her... whatever that had been. ¡°Exactly. So, a normie might see a cop and feel safe, or see someone dressed in rags and get scared. What if they see someone dressed like that?¡± She pointed to the banner ad. The woman was gone, replaced by a chisel-jawed chad-type guy in corpowear. ¡°That¡¯d be a real high-class mugger,¡± I said. ¡°So they wouldn¡¯t be as scared, right?¡± ¡°Right,¡± I agreed. ¡°So that¡¯s why you want to pay attention to what you wear. Casual is good for telling people that you¡¯re not serious, but it also doesn¡¯t disarm people. Casual is too... variable? Anyone could be wearing casual stuff.¡± ¡°You know, your girlfriend is pretty smart,¡± a strangely familiar voice said from behind me. ¡°Which is surprising, all things considered.¡± I turned around and locked eyes with... someone I didn¡¯t know. A woman, maybe late twenties or early thirties, half a head shorter than me. Very little makeup, but what was there made her high cheekbones stand out and darkened her eyes. She had that noble look going. And she was dressed in very nice corpo-chic. A glossy skirt and suit, with a few tasteful accessories in silver. I didn¡¯t know enough to recognize brands or anything, but it looked at once very expensive and understated. It reminded me a little of those stupidly unaffordable luxury hovercars that just looked like a nice car, without any bells and whistles, and which cost a CEO¡¯s annual salary. ¡°Do I know you?¡± I asked. She blinked once, then one eyebrow perked up very slightly. ¡°I suppose you don¡¯t know me in this form, but I¡¯ve hardly switched faces since we last met. Should I be insulted, Miss Catherine Leblanc?¡± ¡°Cat, who¡¯s this?¡± Lucy asked. She didn¡¯t strike me as a weirdo. Well, yes, but not the dangerous type. She didn¡¯t have the feel of a rabid fan or something like that either. More... like she was a businessperson here to do business. I looked her up and down again, but nothing came to mind. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°Who are you?¡± She sighed. ¡°I¡¯m Audrey Alice Darnell-Forsythe. And from what I hear, you¡¯re doing the intelligent thing and are looking at improving your image.¡± ¡°We¡¯re just buying clothes,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll help,¡± she said. ¡°I... no?¡± Audrey shook her head. ¡°Didn¡¯t I once tell you, consultations are free and compulsory.¡± It clicked then. The all-black outfit, the face, the voice, and then that particular line. ¡°Emoscythe?¡± ¡°Emoscyhe Mordeath Noir,¡± she corrected before frowning. ¡°Though at the moment, I¡¯m Audrey.¡± So, out of uniform she wasn¡¯t a samurai anymore? ¡°No one knows who you are here?¡± I asked. ¡°Uh, I mean, when you¡¯re out samurai¡¯ing?¡± She shook her head. ¡°Plenty know. Those who should, in any case. There are a number of employees who work for me here. Some know about my extracurricular activities. Others only know me as the president of whatever company they work for.¡± ¡°Wow, that sounds like a lot of work,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I¡¯m Lucy, by the way.¡± Emoscythe-slash-Audrey glanced at her and nodded. ¡°A pleasure, Lucy. I enjoy the work. Otherwise I wouldn¡¯t bother. In any case, I overheard you two talking about image, so I decided to come over and assist.¡± ¡°Come over?¡± I asked. ¡°You weren¡¯t in here already?¡± ¡°Why would I be here? This market is interesting, certainly, but it¡¯s one of a half-dozen in New Montreal currently running. I had no reason to be here now.¡± ¡°So you came here from home or whatever after overhearing us?¡± I asked, just to be sure. She rolled her eyes. ¡°Don''t say that as if you¡¯re unfamiliar with the idea of proper surveillance. I have assets here. I keep an eye on things. My AI informs me if a samurai is shopping at one of my shops. Most of the time I leave them be. Everyone needs clothes and it¡¯s none of my business what sort of underthings someone prefers. But if it sounds like they need help, then I help. And you need help. Consultations are free and compulsory.¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Four - Rude, Crass, Common Chapter Twenty-Four - Rude, Crass, Common "You either fashion, or you fashoff, right boss?" --Emoscythe Mordeath Noir''s former personal assistant, first (and last) day on the job, 2053 *** ¡°So, what do you think of Cat¡¯s image problem?¡± Lucy asked. Emoscythe, or Audrey or whatever, frowned and looked me up and down. We weren¡¯t the only people on the shopping floor. Far from it, even, so the crowds walking around had to part to make space for our slow asses. ¡°It¡¯s clear that so far her AI has been making most of the stylistic choices for her, and the rest has been more or less instinctive.¡± ¡°Hey now,¡± I said. The way she said it felt like how someone might say ¡®her mom picked it out for her¡¯ and that hurt a little. Even if it was mostly or entirely true. ¡°I¡¯m not that bad,¡± I said. ¡°No, you¡¯re really not,¡± Audrey said. ¡°You could be substantially worse than you are. I¡¯ve worked with plenty of samurai who have no idea how to manage their own image, and while you don¡¯t seem to be invested in the process, your looks fit with that kind of casual dismissal. You genuinely have a good instinct for this, Catherine.¡± ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re hot,¡± Lucy agreed. I pushed back the flush that was trying to overtake me. Compliments weren¡¯t my forte. ¡°Alright, so we¡¯re good, then?¡± ¡°Oh no. An instinctual understanding isn¡¯t a firm one. You still have a long way to go before I¡¯d say that you¡¯re an expert with image.¡± I sighed. ¡°Fine. Just, point out some clothes from here and I¡¯ll wear that.¡± Audrey blinked. ¡°Oh. No, I think we¡¯ve run into a fundamental misunderstanding. I don¡¯t care what you wear.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t?¡± I asked. She relented. ¡°I supposed I care a little. How you dress is obviously an important part of your image, but it would be foolish to assume that it starts and ends there. And I don¡¯t just mean posture and physical appearance. Image is more than just that. It¡¯s about how the world at large perceives you.¡± She glanced past my shoulder, and I had the impression she was looking at something I couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Follow me,¡± she said. Audrey didn¡¯t wait before stepping by and walking off, which meant that Lucy and I had to move quick to catch up. ¡°She¡¯s weird, right?¡± I asked. ¡°She¡¯s a little intense,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Bit too... top for me? Still, kinda hot though.¡± ¡°I mean, yeah, but I was talking more, you know, personality wise?¡± Emoscythe was pretty attractive, but that was part and parcel of being young, fit, and having the ability to murder things with ease. ¡°Oh yeah, totally unhinged, but in a super-focused way. She reminds me a bit of Grasshopper, but less intense?¡± ¡°You two know that I can hear you?¡± Audrey asked. ¡°We do!¡± Lucy chirped. ¡°We didn¡¯t say anything too bad, did we?¡± ¡°No, I suppose not. Being compared to Grasshopper is actually quite nice. She¡¯s a good woman.¡± Audrey brought up to the edge of the market and to a space where the stalls weren¡¯t quite as corporatized. They were more often simple, plastic tables with a few banners, some basic dividers, and racks full of clothes for sale. Deeper in, closer to the outer edge, were some stalls where the merchants were making clothes live, some of them with a small audience. ¡°This is what I wanted you to see.¡± I refocused on the stall Audrey had stopped before. It was a semi-circle of tables with a few walls that had bars sticking out of them from which t-shirts hung. That was all they sold here, shirts and more shirts. There was a machine in the stall that was printing something on a shirt while the stall keeper and someone that was presumably a client waited. ¡°What am I looking for... oh,¡± I said. There was a row of shirts that were me-themed. Or Stray Cat themed? I hadn¡¯t noticed, but nearly all of the shirts here were samurai merch. There were a few that I didn¡¯t recognize, and plenty more that I did. Pouty-faced Deus-Ex¡¯s, some chibi art of Grasshopper next to some very bright shirts with Neon Girl Happy-chan. Some locals that had passed away a while ago too, or that had probably left Earth. Emeraude was there, and I knew they were a New Montreal local once. It was strange thinking that I¡¯d actually met some of the people on those shirts. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The row with my own image was the weirdest of all. There was an anime-style image of me in a cool pose shooting someone that was probably the mayor with ¡°Shut up!¡± written above it in big bubbly letters. The rest of the art tended towards darker and grittier though. Lots of ¡°Get fucked¡± and art of my cat-logo with bleeding mice in its mouth. Also, a lot of the art had my gear stripped down to little more than my helmet and a bikini bottom, with a strategically placed Void Terminus to cover the chest. ¡°I¡¯m buying these,¡± Lucy said. ¡°No,¡± I shot her down as I reached over and plucked the lewd shirt from her hands. ¡°Aw, but Cat! It¡¯s sexy! Look at how big they made your breasts!¡± ¡°No,¡± I said. I got up to the tips of my toes and hooked the shirts on the next rack up, just out of reach of Lucy¡¯s grasping fingers. ¡°Is this what you wanted me to see?¡± I asked Audrey. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°Look at how artists have decided to portray you. That¡¯s your image. These are what people who support what you do will wear.¡± That put a new spin on things. The art, big-tiddied versions of me aside, were almost all gory and violent and gritty. It wasn¡¯t necessarily bad. But it didn¡¯t feel right either. I wasn¡¯t exactly a bastion of hope and fuzzy feelings, but I didn¡¯t think I was leaning so hard into the heavy-metal band aesthetic either. ¡°Once an image becomes rooted in people¡¯s minds, it can take a lot of effort to change it. You¡¯re still early in your career as a samurai. You still have time to change and shape what you do.¡± ¡°That¡¯s going to take more than just dressing in brighter colours, isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked. ¡°A lot more, yes. Though it is a start, if that¡¯s the direction you want to go in. Clothes maketh man, but gear maketh samurai. The equipment you use and how you appear will change your image to some degree. Deus-Ex is still considered disarming, even though she could easily level a city. Some samurai are considered threatening even though they¡¯re not nearly as powerful. You¡¯re starting to inch your way in that direction. Your image is of someone dangerous. Not necessarily in a bad way, but still dangerous.¡± I chewed on my lip. ¡°And that means that from here on out, people will treat me in a certain way.¡± ¡°Yes. The same way that you might approach others based on what you think of them, they will approach you based on what they think of you. It¡¯s how humans function,¡± she said. I nodded along. It was all common sense shit, wasn¡¯t it? But it was also common sense shit that I hadn¡¯t spent any time actually thinking about until now, and that was starting to show my lack of thought, that was. ¡°This is going to make some of my projects harder, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Projects?¡± Audrey asked. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ve got this whole thing I¡¯m setting up, getting cheaply printed prosthetics out to people that need them. Mostly the people I¡¯ve rescued here and there, but also anyone else that needs it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s kind of you,¡± she said. ¡°Cat¡¯s good at being nice,¡± Lucy said. ¡°She¡¯s less good at looking nice.¡± Audrey crossed her arms and scowled at the floor for a moment. ¡°That puts a certain spin on things. You were easily willing to kill a politician, at least as far as the public is concerned, but you¡¯re also doing charity work. You did some work in a position of leadership in Burlington as well. Huh, that¡¯s an interesting angle to work on.¡± ¡°Angle? I¡¯m a little bit lost,¡± I said. ¡°She wants you to go full Robin Hood,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I think you¡¯d look great in tights and with a cloak.¡± I snorted. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly... well, I have stolen from the rich, but I mostly just use that to fix the shit they should have been fixing themselves.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll still count to most,¡± Audrey said. ¡°Yes, I can see that working. A rude, crass, common sort of girl that¡¯s righting wrongs where she sees them, taking from those in power and using what she takes to correct some of the problems they¡¯ve caused. It¡¯s a nice narrative.¡± ¡°Hey now,¡± I said. ¡°That sounds a bit too fictional, no?¡± ¡°All images are fictional. It¡¯s about image not about truth. But don¡¯t worry. Truth tends to shine through, to some degree or another. You¡¯ll manage. Now... how do we make your image and style reflect your actions?¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Five - Cottagecore Samurai Power-Couple Chapter Twenty-Five - Cottagecore Samurai Power-Couple ¡°Victorian is always in fashion.¡± --Emoscythe Mordeath Noir, to the crowd of a fashion show she held at gunpoint, 2051 *** The thing that I was afraid would happen, of course, happened. Lucy and Audrey started to get along. Mostly I blamed Lucy¡¯s charisma. While it was fine when she was trying to butter me up, it could be a tiny bit annoying to see her turn on the charm on others. Not that I was the jealous sort. Actually, no, I was definitely the jealous sort. It was probably not my finest quality, but I wanted to keep Lucy all to myself sometimes. She wouldn¡¯t want that, though. There was no keeping my bird in a cage, even if it was nice and gilded. So I stood on the sidelines as Lucy and Audrey talked. ¡°What about your own image?¡± Lucy asked. ¡°You¡¯re obviously the expert here, so I imagine that you spent some time on your own PR stuff.¡± ¡°I have, though... I think I might be something of a poorly shod cobbler. I haven¡¯t had to put great effort into my own image in some time, and I think it¡¯s due for an upgrade. Did you want to see my current costume?¡± ¡°Costume?¡± I asked. We were still just standing in the outer ring of the market, which was a little strange. I¡¯d noticed that some people in security uniforms had cordoned off the area some ways away, redirecting traffic into the inner ring. Since most of the traffic all came from the same direction, it meant that the area we were in was a small pocket of quiet. The VIP treatment felt a little whatever, but I couldn¡¯t say it was bad. I didn¡¯t need people clamouring over to take pics or bother us. ¡°Different samurai use different terms for it, but I always found costume to be the most accurate,¡± Audrey said. ¡°It¡¯s not just the gear you take with you into the field, but the look that you choose for yourself. It¡¯s a costume because it¡¯s a way of dress that reflects the work that you do, but unlike a uniform it places some importance on style and flare.¡± Audrey opened her hand to the side and a small beam of light was projected onto her palm from the strap of her watch. It swirled for just a moment before turning into a gently spinning image of Emoscythe, or at least a rendering of her, in her full samurai getup. It was the same style I¡¯d seen her in already. A dark, gothic dress, with lots of lace and fancy trimmings. ¡°This is my usual costume,¡± she said. ¡°Oh, pretty!¡± Lucy said. ¡°Very, uh, is it a Victorian doll look? Kind of goth at the same time. The makeup is what gives that impression though.¡± She nodded. ¡°It¡¯s... perhaps not a look that I would choose today.¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t?¡± I asked. ¡°After everything you said about image, I thought you¡¯d be pretty keen on fixing your own.¡± ¡°As I said, I¡¯m a poorly shod cobbler. Not that I¡¯m not fond of my costume. I can¡¯t see myself changing it now because I have history with it. It¡¯s become part of how people recognize me. But when I first stepped out into the world as Emoscythe Mordeath Noir, I was much younger, less informed, less experienced, and I wanted very badly to project something. I think I succeeded in that, despite my shortcomings.¡± ¡°You were trying to look innocent but dangerous?¡± Lucy asked. Audrey nodded. ¡°Exactly so,¡± she said. ¡°A young woman in an outdated dress should, by all means, seem innocent, but that same image of innocence had been co-opted by so many tropes that it is now a threat display. It¡¯s one of those strange, somewhat counter-intuitive cultural things. I caught on to that early, and decided to centre my image around it.¡± ¡°And if you were to start over?¡± Lucy asked. Audrey glanced at Lucy, but I had the impression she was looking past her. ¡°I think, were I to start over, my image as a samurai would better reflect what I am now. Though... I suppose that¡¯s foolish. Your initial image can hardly reflect who you will be, it can only be a reflection of who you are. But that¡¯s not quite what you asked. If I were to choose now, I think my costume would look a lot more like the kind of dress I¡¯m wearing now.¡± I raised an eyebrow at that and looked her up and down real quick. ¡°You¡¯re dressed like a corpo,¡± I said. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°I¡¯m dressed like a business woman,¡± she corrected, though I wasn¡¯t sure I was wrong. ¡°This image is more suitable to convince people in business that I¡¯m willing and able to understand them. It¡¯s not as intimidating as your own outfit, and it¡¯s less likely to be dismissed as my own samurai costume. The way you appear will inform others on how to treat you.¡± She met my eyes and I felt myself rooted to the spot. Audrey was a bit intense. ¡°Which is why you should decide on how you want to appear. We¡¯ve been talking about it for some time, but I¡¯ve yet to get anything on the most important factor in determining your image.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I asked. She sniffed. ¡°What you want, Miss Stray Cat.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± I said. I suppose I hadn¡¯t really put that much thought into it, and it probably showed. Audrey looked at me expectantly for a long moment, and I could feel a kernel of stress building up in the pit of my stomach. ¡°Give her a minute to cook,¡± Lucy said, her voice pitched low. ¡°In the meantime... we¡¯re looking for, like, casual wear too. You know, things to wear around the house? Our place doesn¡¯t really fit the aesthetic, but I¡¯m really tempted to go all cottagecore myself. Get those housewife vibes going.¡± Audrey successfully distracted, I took a moment to actually think. It was harder than I thought. Do you need help? I considered it, but then shook my head. Myalis would produce stuff for me with an eye for style no matter what, but if I asked for something more specific, she''d probably still twist things her way So, what did I want? I liked looking badass and cool, and I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted that to change. Then again, how badass was I really? People didn¡¯t take me as seriously as I wanted, sometimes. It led to me having to make examples. If I¡¯d rocked up the mayor the first time covered in skulls and dripping blood, maybe he wouldn¡¯t have fucked around enough to find out. At the same time, I didn¡¯t want to be scary, did I? Maybe by reputation, because that was fine, but I didn¡¯t want someone who¡¯d never seen me before to be scared shitless on seeing me for the first time. What did that even lead to? Was there a set of sliding scales of badassness and scariness that I needed to dial in? ¡°Alright,¡± I said. That caught both girl¡¯s attention. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t have an exact thing in mind, but I kinda know what I want. More or less.¡± ¡°Go on,¡± Audrey said. Then she glanced around. ¡°Or maybe hold onto that thought? Let¡¯s go talk in my office upstairs. It¡¯s a little more private. Lucy, if you wish to join us, you may, though you¡¯re free to remain here to shop.¡± Lucy grinned. ¡°I¡¯ll come with! I might have to put my foot down if you insist on Cat wearing nothing but a neon leotard or something.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± Audrey said. I thought it was very much not fair. Did that mean she was considering the neon leotard idea? Because I was definitely not okay with that. If Audrey tried to put me in some sort of magical girl outfit, I was gonna go full gunslinger on her ass. She didn¡¯t hear my mental rant, so she happily led us through the market and to a side exit that unlocked when we approached. We went up a couple of floors, then through a rather long corridor that culminated into an office with a glass floor. I stared down, somewhat worried about walking on glass, but Lucy seemed to think that it was fantastic and started to jump on the spot, as if testing the glass for cracks. ¡°This is cool!¡± she said. We had a pretty great view of the entire marketplace below from two stories up. ¡°Can they see us?¡± I asked. I hadn¡¯t looked up when I was down there, so I had no idea. ¡°No, it¡¯s one-way glass,¡± Audrey said. ¡°I like wearing skirts,¡± she added, as if that explained everything, which I suppose it did. She had a large, imposing desk to one side of the room, as well as some plush seats, but she instead led us to the side where a couple of loveseats were positioned around a coffee table. ¡°Now, let¡¯s hear what you came up with,¡± Audrey said as she sat and crossed her legs. *** Chapter Twenty-Six - Stray Cats Cut Chapter Twenty-Six - Stray Cat''s Cut ¡°You gotta at least try to look good. Otherwise you¡¯ll be made the fool.¡± --Mayor Dupont, to an administrative aid, 2057 *** ¡°Uh,¡± I said. There was a hovering projection of me standing in the middle of us, the hologram¡¯s feet brushing just over the coffee table¡¯s surface as it gently spun. ¡°That¡¯s just me,¡± I said. It was. I¡¯d talked to Audrey and Lucy for what felt like several hours, but was actually closer to just the one. We¡¯d gone over what I wanted for my image. It wasn¡¯t too complicated. Or that¡¯s what I thought, at least. I wanted to be scary to those that needed scaring, and I wanted people that needed help, people in the shitty sorts of situations that I¡¯d been in, to trust that I¡¯d help them. ¡°Yes. Did you expect me to show you someone else?¡± Audrey asked. ¡°No, I mean.¡± I gestured at the hovering me. ¡°That¡¯s literally just me, in my normal gear.¡± The hologram was me, in my long coat, scarf around my neck and cat-eared helmet on. The image wasn¡¯t armed, but I could imagine myself carrying one of my usual guns. ¡°This is you as you are, yes,¡± Audrey said. ¡°Now, I have had a few ideas, and I¡¯ve compiled them as we talked. But I don¡¯t believe in leading with the weakest idea first. This is what I think you could do to lean into the image and style you described. My other ideas don¡¯t fit.¡± She waved her arm and the hologram split into three. One was still me, but my coat was sharper, the helmet sleeker. Everything under the coat was synthetic and clean. Basically, it was me as a corpo stooge. The image next to it was a hard contrast. The hologram was standing a bit to one side, hip canted out. I had a coat still, but it was ratty on the edges, and the entire back of it was one large glowing cat face. The image¡¯s pants were covered in straps with logos and there were pins all across the coat. The shoulders were covered in little spikes and the helmet had a generic sticker slapped onto the side. So, a corpo me, and an all-out punk me. The third image was a bit strange. No coat, instead the outfit was... superheroic. There was a cape, and the rest of the gear was sleek and accentuated my stomach and chest. ¡°Oh,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I like the superhero look!¡± ¡°It¡¯s nice,¡± Audrey agreed. ¡°But it¡¯s not Stray Cat. You do embody a lot of traditional values the public might associate with superheroes, so you could lean into those tropes, but it doesn¡¯t quite fit. Superheroes are supposed to be clean and fight for what they think is just. You don¡¯t fit the anti-hero role either. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s the right way to go.¡± ¡°Okay, so none of these,¡± I said. The grungy one did kind of call out to me, but I could see why it might not fit. I was... well, I was street trash, but I wasn¡¯t a street punk. There was a difference. Probably not one someone up top would notice, but it¡¯d be obvious to any real punks. ¡°Here¡¯s what I¡¯d suggest,¡± Audrey said. She made another gesture and the three images winked out. They were replaced by another me. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. It was kind of obvious. Right, in a way that was just... right? It was like finding the square peg for the square hole after slipping in every other shape because they just happened to fit. The coat was there, but different. It cut off at the knees and had a much more pronounced collar. And a hood. A really cool hood that had space for cat ears. The coat was black, with armoured pads over the shoulders and elbows. It was covering a tight shirt with several clasps running across it. A little bit corpo, but also a little military. That look was broken up by the belts. There were a few of them, actually. One around the waist, another at the hip. Belts with a few small pouches that looked to be about the right size for one of my grenades, and there was room for both my Void Terminus and my Trenchmaker. The boots were big, clunky things, and there was a small, tight backpack fixed to the middle of the coat. It had nozzles, and I recognized a jumpjet. The helmet was almost unchanged, though it was adjusted a little to appear more like the face of a cat. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°Fuck, that looks good,¡± I said. ¡°But it looks like, uh.¡± ¡°A bounty hunter,¡± Audrey said. ¡°That¡¯s purposeful. You¡¯re not a bounty hunter, but you fit into a similar role. Someone who works around the bounds of the law, who kills those who are hard to kill, but who doesn¡¯t necessarily work against the society they¡¯re part of. There¡¯s a bit of ninja in there too, the hood, the mask, the utility belts. But that just fits well with your tendency to use stealth when you feel like it.¡± I stood up, then slowly walked around the image. It was pretty cool. ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked Lucy. ¡°It has your scarf,¡± she said. I looked back at the hologram. It did, wrapped around ¡®my¡¯ neck was a familiar hot pink scarf, the same that Lucy had picked out for me a while ago. It clashed with the rest of the gear a little, though... well, there were some glowy bits, otherwise how would people know to take me seriously. ¡°I like it,¡± I said. And I was being entirely honest. It looked right, like something that someone called Stray Cat would wear. It was a cyber-ninja-hunter-badass outfit. It almost felt too much like what I wanted to be. Audrey smiled. It was slight and yet incredibly smug. ¡°Why thank you. I¡¯ll send you the design files. You don¡¯t need to change into this all at once. In fact, I¡¯d discourage it unless you want to go out and make a big splash. Small, subtle changes over time are often more appreciated than you might expect.¡± ¡°Are you sure this is all free?¡± I asked. ¡°Of course I¡¯m sure,¡± Audrey said. ¡°Even a samurai needs a hobby, and this happens to be mine. Actually, samurai especially need hobbies.¡± ¡°Cat¡¯s been trying to get into repairing stuff,¡± Lucy said. ¡°It¡¯s... well, she¡¯s spending a lot of time on it.¡± I gave Lucy a flat look. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. ¡°I appreciate the vote of confidence.¡± Lucy just giggled. ¡°Anyway, this was a lot more than I expected to get out of all this,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Audrey said. She sighed, then slowly got up herself. ¡°Unfortunately, I carved out some time from other work to help you. I¡¯m certain the world will fall apart if I don¡¯t get back to work.¡± ¡°The world?¡± I asked. ¡°Of fashion, of course.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I said, a little dubious. ¡°We still need to buy stuff anyway. It¡¯s kind of why we came here in the first place.¡± ¡°Oh, right. I thought we¡¯d be back home by now,¡± Lucy said. ¡°How long is the market open for?¡± ¡°Another couple of hours,¡± Audrey said. ¡°I¡¯ll let you have the friend¡¯s discount, it should help you grab more clothes. Though... do wear the stuff you buy. I always find it insulting when someone buys something only for it to rot in a closet.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯re not the sort to stay in any closets,¡± Lucy said. We said our goodbyes. Audrey decided to stick to her office, and as we were leaving one wall lit up with a multitude of smaller screens, each with graphs and images and camera feeds and enough information to probably make the average person dizzy. The door shut behind us and all the noise was masked away. ¡°That was something,¡± I said. ¡°That was. Are all the samurai so intense?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve met some,¡± I said. ¡°Delilah¡¯s a little intense, but she¡¯s polite. Grasshopper is very intense, if nice. She¡¯s aggressively nice, actually. And now Audrey, who is, ah, the way she is. I barely met Deus Ex.¡± ¡°That seems like a decent sampling.¡± ¡°That¡¯s five, counting you. I guess I ran into some in Burlington, but never long enough to have a good opinion. I thought that Grasshopper was, like, an outlier. But maybe you¡¯re the weird one.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not weird,¡± I defended. Lucy leaned into me. ¡°Mhm,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡± ¡°It means mhm.¡± I rolled my eyes at Lucy being Lucy. ¡°Well, she¡¯s pretty normal for a samurai, I guess. I haven¡¯t met that many, but I think they, we, tend more towards the very focused and intense side of things, as a general rule.¡± ¡°That¡¯s alright, then,¡± Lucy said. ¡°I do like it when you¡¯re being intense. It¡¯s kinda hot.¡± ¡°Ah, well, no complaints then.¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Seven - Nun Too Soon Chapter Twenty-Seven - Nun Too Soon ¡°H-hi everyone! My name is Giga Shimmer Aurora Dove Love Magnet Cosmic Dreamer, and I¡¯m the magical girl that¡¯s going to save your sorry asses! Can... can I get an uwu? Please?¡± --Beatrice ¡°Quantum Lovely Bubble Pop Honey Bliss Laser Ranger¡± Smith, during her first livestream, 2040 *** I stared at the part in my right hand, then the one in my left. They had grooves designed to interlock together. I knew this, because I had seven more nearly identical parts, all slotted together, sitting on a table in front of me. I pushed the two parts together. They didn¡¯t fit. ¡°What the fuck,¡± I muttered as I tried shoving the two parts together with more force. Unfortunately, more enthusiasm didn¡¯t do anything. These doohickeys all fit along a line that ran from the mech¡¯s leg up into a sort of little actuator in the shoulder. The actuator needed replacing, which meant that I had to take apart all of the little clamps that kept the line in place. It had taken a few hours, and was rather tedious, but I¡¯d figured it out and became pretty decent at it by the end. There was some skin missing from my knuckles, but it wasn¡¯t all bad. Now I just had to put it all back together. The new actuator had fit into place like it belonged there, and these fiddly bits I was working with were the old ones, they should have fit in well because I¡¯d literally taken them out an hour ago. That was only if I could get them to click together. I tried again, but the part didn¡¯t fit into its opposite. Squinting, I looked at the two, then noticed that they were slightly different. ¡°Myalis, what¡¯s going on?¡± That¡¯s part 256B that you¡¯re trying to fit into 257G. They aren¡¯t meant to be together. ¡°They¡¯re all different?¡± I asked. Yes. 257B is on the table to your left. 256G is currently linked to 257C. The parts happen to click into place, though the tolerance is off. ¡°I did that like, ten minutes ago,¡± I said. ¡°You knew!¡± I did. ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± I asked. I was past frustrated by that point, but I figured I owe Myalis at least the chance to explain herself. I am very good at running predictions. If I corrected you, you wouldn¡¯t have made the mistake. You also wouldn¡¯t have learned a lesson. I predict an extremely high likelihood that, moving forward, you will be significantly more attentive about labelling and marking out your parts. I sighed. She was probably right. ¡°Okay, so how do I fix this?¡± The parts on the table started to glow as my augs highlighted them. They were each painted in two colours, and it didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out that colours went with those they matched to. ¡°Oh, hey, this one¡¯s not fucked,¡± I said as I picked one up. A legitimate coincidence. You were going to fit it into the wrong place, but then you dropped the other wrong side and fitted it into the right one instead. That part has rolled under the mech, by the way. I grumbled to myself as I went to look for the part. The mecha was looking... disassembled. Which was actually an improvement. The busted, bent, or otherwise fucked bits were all gone. Now all that was left were missing pieces. For the most part, I was done removing the bad, and was now working to shove in the good. It was just taking a lot more work to replace parts than to remove them. I was on all fours under the mech when I noticed a large van moving towards our place. It slowed down, then flew towards the lower floors and out of sight. It was definitely heading towards us, though. I shimmied backwards out from under the mech (with the part I¡¯d gone down to get) then I returned to the workbench. ¡°Hey, we got eyes on that van?¡± I asked. There was basically a bubble around our place that was more or less free of aerial traffic except for high-flying cars and the occasional racers that didn¡¯t mind dipping in and out of the area. The ground traffic was the same as always, and with the buildings all around getting refurbished there were plenty of construction crews moving through the area. I figured people would be moving back in soon. It didn¡¯t make sense to keep a large section of the city empty, especially with so much of the incursion damage being repaired. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I supposed that building the wall around the city might have slowed down construction, but the need was probably high enough that the distraction didn¡¯t last. The van is a transport owned by the same church that Gomorrah lives at. It was piloted by Franny. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. Well, that made some sense. I looked over the stuff I had laid out on the table, then at the repair drone hovering nearby. ¡°How about you fix these up and then go on and place them into the mech?¡± I asked the drone. It bobbed up and down, which I took to mean yes. You¡¯re not going to do the work yourself? ¡°Hey, I do want to finish all of this sometime in the next year. This part¡¯s easy anyway.¡± At least, when I didn¡¯t mess up. You might be missing out on an important lesson. ¡°What am I supposed to learn from replacing all of those fiddly bits one at a time?¡± I asked, genuinely curious. How to deal with tedium? ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± I muttered. I picked up a rag and started to wipe my hands free of grease and oil. I walked back into the house and found the kittens mostly lounging around lazily, though Junior currently had Nose in a headlock and was frozen staring at me, her knuckles buried in his hair. ¡°What¡¯d he do?¡± I asked. ¡°Spat in my cereal,¡± she said before shrugging. ¡°It was the last of it.¡± I nodded and walked on past, ignoring Nose¡¯s cries for mercy and help. I found Lucy in the bedroom, lying on her back with her legs up against the wall. She was staring at the ceiling with the kind of dull-eyed focus that people had when looking at their augs. She looked ¡®up¡¯ and at me as I came in. ¡°Hey. Done with the work?¡± ¡°Just taking a little break. Gonna head downstairs. I think Gomorrah¡¯s stuff has arrived. Figured I¡¯d talk to her, see if she needs help.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Lucy said. She flopped to the side, then climbed to the edge of the bed. ¡°You¡¯re coming?¡± I asked. ¡°Nah, you go. I don¡¯t want to get roped into helping move boxes. But I will make a cake! That¡¯s what all the old-timey housewives do in the vids when they have new neighbours.¡± ¡°Well, as long as you dress like one of those old-timey wives,¡± I said. Lucy grinned. ¡°If that¡¯s what you want, I can certainly try.¡± She curtsied, which mostly meant pulling up the edges of her oversized t-shirt until the lower part of her belly was exposed. ¡°Mhm,¡± I said distractedly. ¡°Ah, right, anyway. I¡¯ll be back in not too long, I think.¡± I got changed into some new casual wear. Cargo pants and a graphic-tee with a pouty Deus Ex on it, then I splashed some water on my face to clean it off before heading to the elevators. They were the only way down, unless I wanted to drive to the parking garage a few floors down, but that just seemed silly. I only realized that I wasn¡¯t armed when I was three floors down. I felt a small shock of unease at the realisation, but I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. I was home, I was probably safe. If I wasn¡¯t, then it was only a few second¡¯s work to arm myself right back up. The door dinged a few more floors down, and I narrowed my eyes against a blast of stale, warm air. I hadn¡¯t been down to the parking garage in... a while. I was vaguely aware that the mecha cats that we had at home for protection tended to patrol the entire public space in the building, usually while stealthed, but that was the most interaction I¡¯d had with this place. It was strangely empty of cars and such. Then again, maybe that wasn¡¯t so strange. I took up two floors, and a number of others were vacant. I was pretty sure that no one had really started to fix up the lower areas with the shops and such. I found the van parked not too far from the entrance, the Fury resting next to it. Franny was in the back, along with two others that looked... nun-like, even if they were dressed casual. Something about the straight backs and proper postures gave me those vibes. ¡°Heya girls, welcome to the cat house. You need any help with those boxes?¡± *** The Tragic Life and Times of Hyper Cutie Bubblechan Zoom Ranger Sparkle Girl, Magical Girl Mercenary Prologue >> 2041 Continent: North America Country: Old New York City: Mega City New New York 12:37am Hello! My name is Beatrice Smith, but you can call me Zoom Zoom Magical Explosion Happy Sparkles Pretty Girl. Or maybe... Hyper Cutie Super Death Mega Explosion Flower Sparkle Sparkle Girl? ¡°Which is nicer?¡± I asked aloud as I skipped along through a busy corridor. I was in one of the mega buildings on the edge of the city, one of the newer ones that had gone up fairly recently. The buildings all along the coast had been destroyed (through no fault of my own) about two months ago, but this being Old New York, it didn¡¯t take long for new buildings to go up in their place. Real estate prices here being what they were, it was no surprise that things got replaced quickly. ¡®As I have pointed out before, I am incapable of actually reading your mind, though I am able to predict with a fair degree of certitude what you are thinking,¡¯ Chys said. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. I adjusted my grip on Chys. She was currently snuggled up against my chest, a bright yellow ball of fluff and fur, with many tails and long ears and very large, soulful eyes. ¡°So if you can predict what I¡¯m thinking so well, then you¡¯ll know that I¡¯m still working on my magical girl name, and you¡¯ll know which of my new options is best, right?¡± ¡®That isn¡¯t how it works, I¡¯m afraid. In any case, can¡¯t you go with something simple?¡¯ ¡°My name is simple. Each part of it is simple. There¡¯s just a lot of them.¡± I arrived at an elevator, then slipped into it and was immediately distracted. The back of the elevator was taken up by a floor-to-ceiling mirror-monitor. One of those big fashion displays that overlaid new outfits over whatever you¡¯re wearing then tried to ping your augs with where you can buy that stuff. Chys, being the best, disabled any of that advertising stuff. One of the very very first things I bought when I became a magical girl (that day when the sky opened up and unleashed monsters onto my home), was a much, much better set of augs than the ones I had already, and those gave Chys the ability to interfere with electronic stuff in the world around me. So, the me standing in the mirror wasn¡¯t wearing the latest fashion, and my image wasn¡¯t being copied to some database somewhere. Instead it was just me, Beatrice ¡®Ultra Shiny Starburst Kawaii Blast Power Diva Girl¡¯ Smith, in her magical girl outfit. I smiled at myself, then adjusted my top a little. It was a corseted top, which showed a bit of collar and which swept into a long flared coat that poofed out a little like a skirt. It was all white, with a few neon blue highlights that glowed very faintly. I fixed my hair a little, then nodded to myself. Yeah, I looked appropriately magical-girl-y for my meeting. ¡°How many aliens do I need to kill before I can get that staff?¡± I asked. Chss tilted her head back, big eyes blinking as she met mine in the mirror. ¡®You know that each antithesis gives a different number of points, yes? In any case, the catalogue you need is two hundred points for its first class. The staff you wanted was closer to seven hundred. That¡¯s nine hundred total points.¡¯ I pouted. That was so much. I¡¯d blown most of my points on the equipment I had already, and on my magical girl outfit (version one!). It was going to take forever to get geared out the way I wanted to be. I had a list. I needed shoes that would let me fly (with little wings) and a staff that would let me carry out long-ranged bombardments, and of course some sort of magical sparkly shield generator. Being a proper magical girl was a lot of work. The elevator dinged and I gave Chys a squeeze as I turned to face the exit. That had been another big purchase. Chys had been a voice in my head, and I suppose she still was, but now she also inhabited her new body. It was technically some sort of cloned artificial body, some sort of domesticated cat-equivalent from some alien world, but I didn¡¯t mind. She was very soft, and warm, and she could purr. I hummed as I left the elevator with a final glance at the number display above the door. Floor seventy-six. I was in the right place. The company I was visiting didn¡¯t own the entire floor, but it did own like, half of it. The elevator opened into a large lobby area, with some benches and a fountain in the centre. Chys turned her head this way and that, and as she did, some sections of the ceiling were highlighted in my augs. They had hidden turrets! Cool! Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°I should get hidden turrets,¡± I muttered. ¡®That can be arranged. Where would you place them?¡¯ ¡°Urgh. Mom would never allow me to install something like an HMG into the ceiling of my bedroom, would she?¡± I asked. ¡®Projections suggest that she wouldn¡¯t allow that. Not unless you revealed your full identity to her,¡¯ Chys said. ¡°Nuh-uh,¡± I said with a shake of my head. ¡°You know that that¡¯s impossible.¡± A magical girl¡¯s magical girl life was secret. No one was supposed to know! It¡¯s why, when I wasn¡¯t being Infinity Sparkle Moonbeam Mystic Love Power Cutie, I wore glasses so that no one would be able to tie me back to Beatrice Smith! The place I was looking for had the biggest storefront on this floor. It was next to a Hot Stuff Cyber Cafe, and a McDonalds Two. The Wraith Ranger Forced Reconnaissance Group¡¯s logo was a circle with some old gun¡¯s silhouette in it. It had a pair of wings coming out of either side, and the large sign hanging above their entrance had the wings lit up from behind so that they glowed. It was an impressive sign, for a pretty impressive company. No one called them the Wraith Ranger Forced Reconnaissance Group though, they were just the Wraith Rangers, even though they were the best. Well, they were according to the internet. I¡¯d spent all day while in school yesterday looking up mercenary companies, and this one the only one with a good reputation, lots of work done, and which was based in Old New York, so it was close enough that I could get here by train. ¡°Alright! Let¡¯s do this!¡± I said. I was a little nervous, sure, but Turbo Glitter Heart Princess didn¡¯t back down from any challenge! ¡°Uh, miss, please pass through the checkpoint here.¡± I blinked, then glanced around. The entrance of the Wraith Ranger¡¯s headquarters was a killbox. Literally. There were several large guns at the end of a long, narrow passageway with overlapping fields of fire. A clearly marked passage was marked out on the floor with yellow lines, and there were claymores every metre or so on the left and right, alternating so that they¡¯d probably not blow each other up. The guy by the entrance was huge, at least three heads taller than me, and he probably weighed three times as much too, before even taking into account his Wraith Ranger armour. The Rangers all wore this very tacticool gear, all black and digital camo, with pouches and hard plastic armoured bits. This guy¡¯s entire face was covered by a hard shell that didn¡¯t show his face at all. It was probably very sweaty in there, nothing like my magical girl outfit. ¡°I¡¯m here for a work thing,¡± I said. ¡°Understandable, ma¡¯am,¡± he said, very professionally. ¡°Please place any weapons you have on this table, then go through the scanner there.¡± He pointed to a big stainless table to one side, and a big booth thing with spinny arms next to it. ¡°Okay!¡± I said. I skipped over to the table and started to get rid of my weapons. First, my Wand of .50cal. Then my knives. They were really cool knives, with a big circle cut out of their middle, where a handle would have been. They hovered out of the bottom of my skirts, rose up, and carefully alighted on the table, all twelve of them setting down next to each other. Finally, I reached into the front of my outfit, in the space between the lapels of my coat-top, and pulled out my gun. It was all white and pink, with a big container shaped like a glowing heart on the top. The front had a heart-shaped hole at the end too, because why did barrels all need to be round? That just lacked imagination! ¡°Uh,¡± the guard said. ¡°What¡¯s that one?¡± ¡°This? This is the Ultra Kawaii Mark two personal flamethrower,¡± I said as I place it on the table next to the rest. I pointed to the wand. ¡°Don¡¯t say... uh... the word that¡¯s spelled U-W-U, or it¡¯ll go off.¡± The guard carefully turned his head towards my Wand of .50cal. It was a small, white stick, with a star on the end. ¡°Right... I¡¯ve gotten orders from the top, ma¡¯am, you¡¯re uh, cleared to take your things inside.¡± ¡°I am?¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± he said. ¡°I hope you find what you¡¯re looking for with Wraith Ranger Forced Reconnaissance Group, the elite in discreet.¡± ¡°Thanks! I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll find just what I¡¯m looking for!¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Eight - Master Of Nun Chapter Twenty-Eight - Master Of Nun ¡°God has not forsaken us, though the hour is dark and the days grow long, we have new, shining beacons of hope, raised from the best, the sinless, those who are redeemed! Bow your heads in prayer, sheep of god, and allow the shepherds to guide you to a better tomorrow! This sermon comes with a 15% discount for the devoted members of our enlightened church!¡± --Pope Roboticus the First, New Christian Order, 2037 *** One of the nuns stopped to stare at me. She was a few years older than me, maybe in her mid-twenties, and she didn¡¯t look impressed with the state of me. ¡°Pardon me, miss, but this area should be off-limits,¡± she said. I don¡¯t think someone could sound more prudish if they tried. ¡°Is it?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t recall there being anything like that.¡± ¡°This is the residence of a samurai,¡± she said. ¡°You don¡¯t want to be caught spying on a saint, do you?¡± ¡°Sister Datamaria, is something wrong?¡± the other nun said. She came to stand next to... Datamaria? That was a new one. ¡°Just an interloper, Sister Ethergrace,¡± Datamaria said. I glanced between the two. They weren¡¯t dressed like on-duty nuns, so no habits or whatever, but there was no mistaking the style they were dressed in. Long skirts, long-sleeved blouses that covered everything, hair done up in severe buns. Datamaria was the taller of the two, with light brown hair and eyes too blue to be real. Ethergrace was much shorter, and it looked like maybe she was spending more time snacking on the alms than handing them out. She looked my way and smiled though, and I got the impression that she was far nicer than her companion. ¡°Hello dearie,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but Sister Datamaria is probably right. We¡¯re helping move things to the floor above. I don¡¯t think we need any help, however.¡± ¡°Ah, that¡¯s alright,¡± I said. ¡°I genuinely don¡¯t mind. I was just taking a break from work. If you want, I can have a drone help you carry stuff.¡± I pointed past her to the van. It looked like someone had been playing tetris with furniture in there because it was packed to the brim. Sister Datamaria sniffed. ¡°I said we don¡¯t need the help.¡± I was about to pull away. I didn¡¯t feel like getting into an argument, let alone with someone that was probably the friend of a friend. Starting something on the backfoot like this would take a lot of work to fix, and I really didn¡¯t feel like it. Then Franny came around the van, a small stack of boxes held in her hands. Her chin was resting on the topmost box, keeping it pinned in place. She saw me and the two nuns, then brightened. ¡°Cat! I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d show up,¡± she said. ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t invited or anything, so that¡¯d probably be fair,¡± I said. She chuckled, raspy and dark. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be out shooting more politicians or something.¡± ¡°I really hope that¡¯s not the only thing I¡¯m remembered for,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s the kind of rep that¡¯ll be hard to work back from.¡± ¡°Do you know this girl, Sister Pureheart?¡± Sister Datamaria asked. I blinked. ¡°Wait, Franny, your name is--¡± ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Franny snapped. ¡°It¡¯s...a nun thing. We get names given to us. We don¡¯t pick them.¡± ¡°That much is obvious,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯d have picked Sister Hellion, or Sister Inthecloset or something.¡± Franny¡¯s look was flat and unamused, but the gasp from Sister Ethergrace was worth it. ¡°Honestly, yeah, I probably would have picked something rude and gotten the switch for it. Pureheart is just so... tacky though. Before you ask, Delilah is Sister Holy Firewall.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Yeah, that tracked. Sister Datamaria shook her head. ¡°Is this one of your street friends, Franny?¡± she asked. I saw that the title was dropped there. Franny sighed. ¡°Sisters, this is Catherine... I can¡¯t remember her family name. Something French?¡± ¡°Leblanc,¡± I offered. It was a name that was too fancy-sounding for me, but I didn¡¯t pick it. ¡°Right,¡± Franny said. ¡°You probably know her better as Stray Cat. She¡¯s the owner of the giant cheesy cat-shaped building above.¡± ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not cheesy. Tacky, kitsch, gaudy maybe, but not cheesy.¡± The sisters both gasped, and Ethergrace almost dropped what she was carrying as she slapped a hand over her mouth. ¡°You¡¯re a saintess,¡± she said. ¡°Sister Daramaria, apologise, quick!¡± Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Sister Datamaria did just that, bowing twice before she spoke. ¡°Forgive me, saintess. I allowed my poor judgement to overcome my good sense. I will accept any punishment you see fit to hand out for my poor conduct.¡± ¡°Uh,¡± I said. Franny rolled her eyes, and I got a text message from her a moment later. I supposed she didn¡¯t want to say what she was thinking aloud. ¡°This is why Delilah¡¯s moving.¡± I could imagine. ¡°It¡¯s all good,¡± I said. ¡°And my offer to help was legit. Is Gomorrah here too?¡± ¡°She¡¯s back home, dealing with some stuff,¡± Franny said. ¡°Uh, the church home, not here, I mean.¡± ¡°She let you take the Fury?¡± I asked. There was no doubt about it, Delilah was in capital-L Love with Franny if she was letting the redhead take her car out. ¡°She was worried that someone might try to rob the van,¡± Franny said. I blinked. The van looked like it was twice my age. Not too much rust or anything, so it had been maintained, but still, not exactly a prize worth stealing. ¡°Why would anyone take that old thing?¡± ¡°It¡¯s filled with the possessions of a saintess,¡± Sister Ethergrace said. Her eyes were practically shining. ¡°It¡¯s Delilah¡¯s crap,¡± Franny added. ¡°Some of its alien tech. In a rickety old van, that¡¯s a juicy target.¡± That was probably fair. I supposed that I¡¯d kind of grown used to having protectorate stuff at my fingertips, so it didn¡¯t feel so special anymore, but some of the gear I tossed aside was probably worth enough to change someone¡¯s life if they got ahold of it. A van full of stuff? Yeah, that¡¯d be worth a fortune. The sisters were carrying the equivalent of a few gold bricks around, it made sense to want to defend it. Also, I¡¯d be annoyed if someone stole my shit. I¡¯d have to track it down and kill people which would cut into my vacation time. Having the Fury flying around would discourage anyone from trying anything. ¡°Well, it should be safe here,¡± I said. ¡°Or around the building. We¡¯ve got some turrets mounted on the outside, and there¡¯s some cats roaming around.¡± ¡°Cats?¡± Franny asked. I nodded, then turned back towards the parking garage. I was pretty sure there was one in here. It took me a moment to find the right app in my augs to call it over. There was a muffled click-click, then the air warped as the invisibility dropped around one of my cat mechs. It was just one of those I¡¯d bought to guard the house, a mechanical cat drone with a few guns. It was scarier because of its ability to go unnoticed than anything else. ¡°One of these,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll probably buy or fabricate a few more, if Gom doesn¡¯t mind. If we¡¯re gonna have this whole building be a samurai place, then it makes sense to keep up the security.¡± ¡°Cool,¡± Franny said. ¡°So, need help?¡± Franny shrugged, then shifted her hold on the boxes. ¡°Yeah, sure. We¡¯re taking up the two floors below this one.¡± That¡¯d leave a floor between the museum and the parking garage. Actually, that was decent. It gave me some room to expand downwards if I needed it. ¡°Nice,¡± I said. ¡°Is Gom planning on taking over some of the garage too?¡± ¡°I think so. Just a corner of it. She wants a lift to park the Fury in the house. Which I think is a bit silly, but whatever.¡± Yeah, she would park her car in the living room. I went to the back of the van, aware of the two nuns staring at me and reached for one of the boxes. I don¡¯t think Sister Datamaria meant for me to hear her whispering to Franny, but I picked it up anyways. ¡°Sister Pureheart, you can¡¯t ask a saintess to do menial labour for you!¡± ¡°She offered,¡± Franny said. ¡°Out of the grace and kindness of her heart, but you should have refused.¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t get your panties in a knot, it¡¯s Cat. She¡¯s alright.¡± I had to hold back the urge to puff out in pride. Damn right I was alright. Instead, I picked up a box then almost dropped it when Myalis spoke up and surprised me. She could go hours without saying anything sometimes. Lift with your knees. ¡°Really?¡± I asked. It¡¯ll save you points later. Unless you want to replace your spine now? If you don¡¯t, then proper posture will save you from future pain. I rolled my eyes as I shifted my grip on the box. ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I muttered. ¡°Alright, Franny, where are we dumping all of this?¡± ¡°Follow me,¡± Franny said. ¡°I¡¯ll show you the place while we¡¯re at it.¡± *** Chapter Twenty-Nine - Un-convent-ional Interior Design Chapter Twenty-Nine - Un-convent-ional Interior Design ¡°Eye-linked augmentations, Augs, are a necessary part of life in 2050s. Almost everything uses touchless interfaces, most of which require some sort of Aug in order to interface with it. When it works, it means that someone can interact with the world around them without ever doing any more than glancing at it!¡± --Augworld, digital magazine, 2051 *** Franny turned to the side so that she could stare at the elevator panel without a stack of boxes blocking her vision. Some Aug-mented reality stuff was useful, and some of it was downright stupidly designed, the elevator¡¯s button panel was probably one of the latter. ¡°Okay, so, Delilah¡¯s planning on breaking down a lot of the floors between the two, uh, floors that we¡¯re building on.¡± ¡°That makes sense, I guess,¡± I said. ¡°I can¡¯t remember what the two levels were before.¡± ¡°Offices, mostly,¡± Franny said. ¡°There was one small factory space in the northern end of the floor that already covers both levels, and there¡¯s a salon too. The rest is all offices, call centres, server rooms. That kind of stuff.¡± I nodded along. The elevator arrived soon enough, and we stepped in. The ride down wasn¡¯t much longer, a floor hummed past, then we stopped at the next one down and Franny led the way into... not much of anything, really. The space had a few different offices in it, but now the walls between the different parts of the floor were torn down. At glance, it looked like the walls were maybe fifteen centimetres thick, with room for cabling and such between them. The walls themselves were stacked to one side, four-by-eight panels that bolted onto the girders that supported the building. The flooring was even the same across different offices. Basically, it was like each office was a macro-cubical for whichever company owned them, with smaller cubicles for the poor fucks working for them within. Now everything was stacked up to one side, a heap of walls and cubicles and desks. ¡°What are you going to do with all of that?¡± I asked. ¡°Sell it,¡± Franny said with a shrug. She carried her boxes over to a small pile, away from the disassembled walls and cubicles. ¡°The church is helping with that. Only took a day to find someone interested, but they¡¯ll only be around to pick it all up tomorrow.¡± ¡°I guess there¡¯s a market for this kind of stuff?¡± ¡°Right now? Yeah. Lots of damaged buildings, and I think those wall panels are like some sort of universal fit. The desks and cubicles are just desks and cubicles. Someone will want them.¡± I set down the box I was carrying next to the pile. ¡°Makes sense,¡± I said. ¡°So, want to show me around? I¡¯m kinda curious, though I guess there¡¯s not much to show for it yet.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± Franny said. ¡°Plus it¡¯ll get me away from Datamaria for a bit. She¡¯s... a lot. Ethergrace is nice though, she didn¡¯t sleep through the ¡®don¡¯t be a judgemental bitch¡¯ lessons the way Datamaria did.¡± I snorted. I wasn¡¯t involved with anything religious enough to be able to comment on it, but I had the impression that there was a lot of drama behind closed doors. ¡°She was a bit much. Weird to see her immediately turn nice when she found out I was a samurai.¡± ¡°They¡¯re all like that,¡± Franny said. ¡°We¡¯re taught that samurai are saints, one step down from the damned pope. Plus, you know, samurai are celebrities already. You¡¯re getting pretty popular too.¡± ¡°Am I?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t pay too much attention to it.¡± ¡°Yeah. You were behind Delilah for a while, until, you know, you shot the mayor in a livestream. Now you¡¯re two thousand points ahead.¡± Franny shook her head. ¡°I was sure Delilah would break the top ten-k before you.¡± I blinked, then made a note to look at my popularity rankings. I didn¡¯t have the time or inclination to obsess over that kind of shit, but I was also pretty curious. ¡°Anyway! This is the lower floor, where we¡¯ll have most of the ¡®outward facing¡¯ stuff. That¡¯s what Delilah calls it,¡± Franny said. She pointed to one end of the room. ¡°That¡¯ll be where the chapel is. Just a little one, mostly to make it so the old bats back home don¡¯t get their dusty old panties in a knot.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I said. I wouldn¡¯t want a chapel in my place, but Delilah would do as she pleased. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°That part over there, without the windows? That¡¯s the factory part. It was one of those 3d printer places. You¡¯d order shit up online and they¡¯d make and ship it.¡± ¡°Oh, nice,¡± I said. ¡°Is the stuff still there?¡± Franny shook her head. ¡°Nah, all gone. The company that owns it picked it up a bit ago. I guess the machines are worth enough to move them around to a new place. Anyway, it¡¯s a big, empty room with reinforced parts. Delilah wants to install the lift for her car there. Like a mini-interior garage.¡± ¡°That¡¯s cool,¡± I said. ¡°So, chapel there, garage there. I guess we can have like, a lobby space or something here. And I guess offices or something there? There¡¯s a lot more room than we need, honestly.¡± Franny walked over to one of the staircases, and I followed her. ¡°I think we¡¯ll block these off. I don¡¯t really like the idea of someone being able to walk right through. The elevators can continue, I guess. We might want better security on those.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll talk to Gomorrah about it,¡± I said. ¡°But yeah, it makes sense. Better cameras, a scanner maybe? Something dangerous in case someone we don¡¯t like comes in. I can definitely shove some bombs in there.¡± Franny gave me a very flat look. ¡°I¡¯m alright with living in the same building as you, Cat, but not if you¡¯re going to bomb the place.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say I¡¯d set it off. Besides, I have some bombs that wouldn¡¯t take the building down. And you¡¯re one to talk, your girlfriend lights shit on fire on the regular.¡± Franny¡¯s cheeks warmed up, which was blatantly obvious with the smattering of freckles across her nose. ¡°Whatever,¡± she said as she continued to stomp her way up the stairs. ¡°So, this is the living floor.¡± I followed her up and into the next floor. This one was only half cleared, but there was something at work on the rest of it. I stopped to stare. It was a robot of some sort, set on a wide wheel base with six small rubbery wheels. It had a large boxy frame with several articulated arms coming out of it with tools on their ends. The robot was taking apart one of those wall panels, one of the arms had a drill on the end, but the thing was moving at a snail¡¯s pace. The arm with the drill slowly, slowly moved up to a corner piece, then carefully slotted the drill in place before spinning a screw out of place. Then it moved down, and dropped the screw into a small receptacle before moving onto the next, all at the same pace. ¡°What¡¯s that thing?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s some sort of car maintenance drone,¡± Franny said. ¡°I don¡¯t think we named it. It does oil changes and stuff on the Fury. Not that I think it¡¯s ever really been used for that much? Mostly, we used it to change lightbulbs and do maintenance at the church. We brought it over, and it¡¯s been disassembling things.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± I said. Well, that made some sense. Gomorrah probably had a few catalogues that it could have come from. Judging by the unfanciness of it, and its speed, it was probably even relatively cheap. A couple of hundred points or something. ¡°I guess I could use my repair drone for the same kind of thing. Maybe when I¡¯m not using it.¡± ¡°Delilah wants to reinforce the entire building. But that¡¯ll take a while.¡± I nodded and looked around. Most of the floor was cleared out, and it felt surprisingly cavernous and empty. There was a lot of room in here for stuff. ¡°What are you going to be putting in here?¡± Franny turned and started pointing. ¡°Kitchen, living room, then guest bedrooms. There should be two bathrooms. One near the dining room there, and another in the master bedroom. Plus there¡¯s two more downstairs. It¡¯s actually kind of a lot. Delilah¡¯s place has half as many square feet as we have back home, but back home houses something like a hundred nuns.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a lot of room,¡± I agreed. ¡°So... do you have a bedroom, or are you going to be... sharing?¡± Franny swallowed, then looked away. ¡°So, that¡¯s the garage part. I think we¡¯ll have access to it from this floor. And the outer walls will be changed out. That¡¯ll be a big job, I think. Delilah might just have them all stripped out, then order in new ones fit into place already. They need to be tough, and also fireproof. In fact, the whole place will be, especially around the armoury.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t answer my question,¡± I said. ¡°A-anyway, this is where the kitchen will be.¡± ¡°You said that already Franny!¡± *** Magical Girl Mercenary For Hire - Chapter One Chapter One >> 2041 >> Continent: North America >> Country: Old New York >> City: Mega City New New York >> 12:49am The room past the entrance way was, unsurprisingly, another lobby. This was a very small one, though, with a long counter with a pair of secretaries behind it, and a corridor to either side. I saw some offices further in, a bunch of cubicles taking up a room, the other side just had a turn further in and a couple of doors with little placards next to them. ¡°Miss?¡± one of the secretaries said. He was a guy secretary, a big muscled guy that didn¡¯t seem to fit into his button-up shirt very well. ¡°Hello miss, I¡¯m Timothy Jortfull. Security out front said that you needed our services?¡± I blinked. I hadn¡¯t said anything like that to the security guy out front. Then again, I suppose it made some sense. When you walk into a store you¡¯re usually there to buy stuff, not to come asking for a job. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mister Jortfull, but I think you have it wrong. It¡¯s not your fault, I just didn¡¯t know if that was the right entrance to take for what I¡¯m looking for.¡± Mister Jortfull stood a little taller at that. ¡°Oh, of course. This is the entrance for customers. There¡¯s only one other entrance. For employees. I don¡¯t think you should come in from that one.¡± He smiled. ¡°I¡¯m hoping that I can soon,¡± I said with my best idol smile. Mister Jortfull¡¯s smile looked a bit fixed. ¡°If... you wish?¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯d rather that than coming in from the walls.¡± I frowned. ¡°Why would I come in through the walls? I mean, I could come in through the windows, I guess.¡± ¡°We¡¯re on the seventy-sixth floor.¡± ¡°I know... I took the elevator here.¡± I shook my head. This conversation was weird, and getting weirder. ¡°Alright, look Mister Jortless, maybe you can help me?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m here for,¡± he said. ¡°Great! I¡¯d like one job application, please.¡± ¡°You want a job application? But our applications are online,¡± he said. I sighed. ¡°I know. I tried to fill one of these out, but I got auto-rejected. Not that your site told me. You know, it¡¯s rude to not tell a candidate that they weren¡¯t picked. I had to have Chys check for me.¡± I raised Chys up, then because she wasn¡¯t doing anything, I wiggled one of her forelegs as if she was waving hello. ¡°I... we¡¯ll look into that,¡± Mister Jortfull said. ¡°So, if I understand correctly, you want to work for the Wraith Ranger Forced Reconnaissance Group?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I said. ¡°Okay. Yeah, sure, why not?¡± he said. ¡°Would you mind giving me a moment? I think I need to kick this up the chain of command.¡± I nodded, then found a bench across from the counter to sit on. Fortunately, I had Chys to play with while Mister Jortfull ran off. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was proper office etiquette to run while indoors, but I wasn¡¯t going to point that out. Nobody liked a snitch, or someone who whined. Or a whiney snitch. ¡°Do you think I¡¯ll get the job?¡± I asked Chys. ¡®It¡¯s very likely that you will. Whether or not you enjoy it is another matter entirely, and one which is much harder to predict. Do keep in mind what I said about contracts, however.¡¯ ¡°They¡¯re not legally binding unless someone has more firepower than me,¡± I repeated. ¡®Exactly.¡¯ Mister Jortfull returned a few minutes later, looking more composed than when he left. He adjusted his tie and lowered the arm holding onto a tablet computer. ¡°If you¡¯ll follow me, ma¡¯am, the commander will see you now.¡± ¡°The commander?¡± I asked as I started to follow him. His only reply was a severe nod as he continued to escort me through the building. We crossed through the office space and into the rooms beyond that. I was surprised to discover a full on gym indoors, with a glass wall that let those in the corridor see within. A dozen guys and girls were exercising. Then we crossed another room that looked like a range. A fairly small one, with moving animatronic model three antithesis popping in and out of cover while a couple of mercenaries took shots at them with what looked like those guns that fired little plastic pellets. Mister Jortfull reached a room at the very back of the building where a few floor-to-ceiling windows opened up to a nice view of New New York¡¯s harbours. ¡°Here, ma¡¯am,¡± he said as he knocked twice. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°Enter,¡± said someone on the other side. The door slid open, and I slipped into a surprisingly compact office. It felt like maybe they¡¯d sacrificed office space to make more room for the gyms or something. There was a desk with a built-in computer, a wall with some trophies and medals and plaques, and a locker at the back. Two chairs made up the last of the furniture, one on either side of the desk. Neither were occupied because the office¡¯s owner was standing in the middle of the room, back straight, hands folded at the small of his back and legs apart. ¡°You¡¯re the samurai my security¡¯s been going on about?¡± he asked. I nodded as I strained my neck to meet the man¡¯s eyes. He had a surprisingly handsome-ish face, a bit of stubble, a square jaw, like someone from a poster, but a tiny bit chubbier. His arms were big with muscles, but he also had a gut pushing his shirt out. He looked a lot like someone''s dad, but I probably shouldn''t tell him that. "A lot of people must call you Daddy, huh?" Oops. The man blinked. ¡°I¡¯m Commander Caden Carpenter. I¡¯d rather you didn¡¯t call me... Daddy.¡± ¡°Okay, sir,¡± I said while working very hard to suppress the redness climbing up my cheeks. ¡°My name is Magic Muffin Cosmic Giggle Princess. I¡¯m a magical girl ready to fight for love and justice!¡± ¡°I... see. Well, Miss Magic Muffin Cosmic Giggle Princess, how can the Wraith Rangers help you?¡± ¡°I need work,¡± I said. ¡°Fighting for love and justice is great, but there aren¡¯t any aliens to blow up right now, and so I thought I¡¯d ask if you needed any help?¡± ¡°You want a job,¡± he said. His eyes went distant for a moment, then he nodded. ¡°I think we can arrange that. What are your specialities? What kind of work are you looking to do? And you understand what kind of work we¡¯d ask of you?¡± ¡°My speciality is bringing a smile to the face of the downtrodden and also mid-ranged high-impact assaults.¡± I shook my head. ¡°And I just need a job on the side, I ah, don¡¯t really know how you can help me with that. Honestly, it was a lot of brainstorming that brought me here, but I didn¡¯t have too much time to think about it.¡± Commander Carpenter leaned back against his desk, arms crossed. I felt like I was being weighted with the way he was looking at me. ¡°The Wraith Rangers mostly focus on anti-xeno operations whenever there¡¯s an incursion along the east coast. We¡¯ll do clean-up as well. But those jobs aren¡¯t constant. The rest of the time we split our attention between security work, which means long hours and low pay, and special jobs, which are usually short and dangerous.¡± ¡°I think I¡¯ll go with the short and dangerous ones,¡± I said. ¡°I have school during the week, so this is more of a part time thing.¡± The commander nodded slowly. ¡°This is the first time we¡¯d work directly with a samurai, but I¡¯ve heard what it¡¯s like from others. Frankly speaking, Miss Magic Muffin Cosmic Giggle Princess, samurai have a rep for being nightmares to work with, but other companies put up with it because it¡¯s usually worth it in the end.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°Well, I¡¯m hoping that we both profit from it, if that¡¯s what you mean. I don¡¯t want to be troublesome.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± he hmm¡¯ed. ¡°Alright. I think we can work with that. Are you free tomorrow?¡± Tomorrow was Sunday, which was one of my days off. ¡°Yeah, I can manage. Probably not all day, but for a chunk of it, sure.¡± He nodded again. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s call tomorrow a test, then. We have a medium-priority job tomorrow within New New York, in the destroyed part of the city. I¡¯ll email you the details. Do you have good decryption software?¡± ¡°Yup! What¡¯s the job? We¡¯re not like... killing innocents or like, hurting nice people, right?¡± ¡°That kind of work pays well, but we don¡¯t take it. My Rangers started as Us Army rangers. We still act to serve the citizens of whatever country we¡¯re in. No strikebreaking, no extortion work. This job is closer to what we¡¯re made for; recon in force.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°I can work with that. Send me the details and I¡¯ll be there!¡± ¡°Good. You¡¯ll be with one of my most experienced teams. There¡¯s a rogue AI to hunt down out there. We¡¯re being paid to take it out.¡± *** Chapter Thirty - Cat Nap Mishap Chapter Thirty - Cat Nap Mishap ¡°I heard that she did it because the mayor said something about her girlfriend.¡± --Sam-I-Yam, gossip forums, 2057 *** I woke up because of a buzz in my head. A call over my augs. Groaning, I turned in bed and tried to ignore it, but the call rang again, and I snapped my eyes open. I was in my room, covered by thick blankets. The room itself was cold, a fan on sweeping cool air over anything not bundled up. Lucy was next to me, breathing slowly and evenly. I blinked a few times, then took in the time. Two fifty-six, in the AM. I shifted to the edge of the bed, then sat there for a moment as I processed things. ¡°Why?¡± I asked. I wasn¡¯t coherent enough to make that any more specific. The origin of the call suggests that it¡¯s important enough to be let through. I¡¯m sorry for waking you up. I groaned, then stood up, turned, and fixed the blankets around Lucy. I¡¯d left a gap open, and I didn¡¯t want her to get cold. She grabbed the blankets in her sleep and curled up tighter around them. ¡°Hello?¡± I muttered as I answered the call. ¡°Cat?¡± a familiar voice asked. It took me a moment to place it though. See-Three, the cyborg chick in charge of the prosthetics place. We¡¯d sent over the first shipment just yesterday. Or Lucy did, in any case. She was taking care of all of that stuff for me. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s me,¡± I said as I padded across the room towards the washroom. If I was gonna be up anyway, I might as well take a piss. ¡°Someone broke into our place,¡± See-Three said. I paused by the entrance to the washroom. ¡°Are they still alive?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes? We didn¡¯t have anyone staying there overnight. That was probably a mistake. I got a turret thing from... I think it¡¯s your girlfriend? Wife? But we just got it, it wasn¡¯t installed yet.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Do we know who it is?¡± ¡°I¡¯m talking to someone right now. I think it¡¯s just some local punks. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s the gang that runs the floor we¡¯re on, but the one two floors down. I don¡¯t know anyone well enough to ask, and the clinic doesn¡¯t exactly have a lot of loyal customers yet,¡± See-Three said. She sounded pissed, and tired. I sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll call you back in ten minutes,¡± I said. ¡°Are you at the clinic?¡± ¡°I am.¡± ¡°Alright, stick around there. Stay safe. I¡¯ll come over. Try to get, like, an inventory of what was taken.¡± ¡°Okay, thanks, Catherine.¡± We hung up, and I went and did what I needed to do, which included splashing cold water against my face to wake up properly. ¡°I¡¯m going to need a few things,¡± I said. Certainly. I imagine one of them is something to wake up? ¡°Yeah. Hit me up with that alien caffeine. Or... what¡¯s stronger than caffeine for waking up?¡± I have several options ranging from methamphetamine to cocaine, but for what you¡¯re looking for, I¡¯d suggest a cheaper, less harmful alternative. For a point I can get you a cup of hot coffee-like substance laced with a well-measured cocktail of neurostimulants. It¡¯s not chemically addictive, and tastes too bad to be addictive otherwise. It¡¯s a tier zero item. ¡°Fuck it, sure,¡± I said. Made sense that something like that would be available to any samurai without a catalogue. It seemed like a basic necessity. My toilet paper was also tier zero stuff after Lucy forgot to restock, and I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d ever be able to go back to the normal stuff. A cup appeared by the edge of the sink, just a little styrofoam cup with a plastic lid... that had a pair of cat ears and whose mouth was shaped vaguely like a cat¡¯s. I rolled my eyes as I took a long pull from it, then almost spat it all out. It was rank. Like coffee that had been left to boil for way too long, and it was grainy too. ¡°This is awful!¡± I hissed. The disgust you are currently feeling is the best way to counter any habit-forming. It¡¯s not chemically addictive, and now it¡¯s too distasteful for someone to voluntarily want to drink any in excess. I think it¡¯s quite clever, actually. Like spritzing a cat in the face with water. ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking dare,¡± I warned as I forced myself to take another sip. The effects were pretty obvious, I felt a tingle race up my spine and it felt like the hazy cloud of sleepiness I was feeling just melted away. ¡°What¡¯s my point total sitting at?¡± This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Current Points: 33,571 A bit higher than yesterday, and at a decent number. ¡°Okay... you remember that outfit from Audrey, uh, Emoscythe? I think I want to give it a go. We might need to intimidate people, and I might be caught on camera doing samurai shit. It¡¯s as good a time as any for an image change.¡± I was expecting this to come up. You already have a decent undersuit. To bring the look together, you¡¯re mostly just missing a jacket and some utility equipment, notably belts and pouches. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°But I want something better than what I had before. I mean, weather-and-fire proof, better invisibility. If I¡¯m going to upgrade my looks I might as well go all the way, you know?¡± Understood, give me a fraction of a millionth of a second to work that out. ¡°It took you longer to say that than it did to do the work, didn¡¯t it?¡± I asked. Yes. How does nine hundred points for a suit sound? It would contain all the equipment and gear you usually carry, with a small jump pack mounted to the back and ankles for added mobility, a pierce-resistant full-spectrum camouflage weave, and kinetic absorption plates in strategic locations. It isn¡¯t a full exoskeleton, but it¡¯s about as close as you can come, and it¡¯s still compact enough to fit within your armour and mech. ¡°Got room for some of those shoulder guns? I like those.¡± There should be plenty of pockets and such for grenades already, and room to holster my sword and sidearm. That can be arranged, of course. Call it one thousand-two hundred for a full set? I glanced at myself in the mirror, just in one of Lucy¡¯s oversized T-shirts. ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I said. A box appeared on the counter with a thump, close enough to our toothbrush cup to make it rattle. I started getting dressed. It was actually tricky, the outfit didn¡¯t just go on like a coat, it had its own pants kinda built into it that I had to squeeze into first, then I had to contract my arms a little to fit the top part on. It was built more like a jumpsuit than normal clothes, but without the usual puffy formlessness of a normal jumpsuit. I don¡¯t think anyone else would be able to comfortably wear this one. I shrugged it on in the end, then looked in the mirror again while zipping up the front. I looked like... a ninja bounty-hunter. Alright. I suppose that¡¯s the kind of look I was aiming for. It was badass, but it was also pretty much exactly as Emoscythe had designed it. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. You¡¯ll want to retrieve your weapons before you leave. There¡¯s a sleeve for your Void Terminus, and a holster for your Trench Maker. ¡°Mhm,¡± I mumbled as I left the washroom while checking my remaining points. Current Points: 32,371 More than enough to cause some mischief. ¡°Cat?¡± Lucy mumbled from the bed. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in a bit,¡± I said. ¡°Just gotta take care of something.¡± Lucy¡¯s head fell back down, and I suspected that she was too out of it to make any sort of sensible reply. I went and found my boots in the corner, then while stumbling into them I grabbed my favourite handgun, checked to make sure it was full, frowned as I realised it was missing one round, and then I realised I didn¡¯t care that much about one round before I tucked it in place. The coat had a flap at the back and a magnetised harness that let me wear my smaller bullpup-style Laser Pointer at the small of my back, where the coat would cover it entirely. Then the sword went into a long, flaccid sheath hanging from my other side. It was a snug fit, and I tried to be mature about the way it hung there. I was ready for war. A small war, but war all the same. The last thing I did was grab my helmet on the way through the main part of the house. I fitted it on just as I walked outside and started for my bike. It was just past three in the morning, and someone, somewhere, was going to regret waking me up. *** Chapter Thirty-One - The Skinny Lowdown Chapter Thirty-One - The Skinny Lowdown ¡°Oh, Stray Cat! Bang bang bang, bang bang bang!¡± NPC Streamer #31,501, Tik Tok Two, 2057 *** I landed my bike in the same parking garage as last time, then got off and started for the elevator. Halfway there I tested my suit¡¯s invisibility. The surface of my coat wavered for a fraction of a second, then there was nothing. I could see straight through my arm and to the floor below. Waving my arm around revealed only a very slight blurriness. It refreshed so quickly that it was almost impossible to tell that anything was wrong. If I wasn¡¯t looking for it, I would have dismissed it outright. It looked too much like a heathaze. Or... no, a heathaze was more visible. Maybe like those little floater things that moved around in my eye when I was looking at something really dark? They were easy to dismiss when I wasn¡¯t looking for them. ¡°This stealth shit¡¯s a bit better than what I¡¯m used to,¡± I said. It¡¯s a slight improvement over your last set of similar equipment. Don¡¯t worry, you paid for the difference in quality. ¡°Yeah, I bet,¡± I said. My chat with Audrey-slash-Emoscythe the other day had me thinking a little about fighting styles. Well, mostly she¡¯d put a lot of ideas about style in my head, but that kind of led from one thing to another. I had to work a little on my fighting style as well as my image. They kind of went hand-in-hand. So far I¡¯d been a bit wishy-washy about what I used. Bombs, sure, and some more silent weapons. But then I¡¯d pick up an SMG, or a crossbow, and I still carried my Trench Maker around. I wasn¡¯t focused on a single weapon type or platform, which was... probably okay? It gave me a bit of flexibility, at least, but there was a lot of value in hyperfocusing. Gomorrah¡¯s fire shit was probably leagues ahead of what I could manage by now. The only advantage I had was the versatility of bombs as a weapon. They let me punch up enough to keep things interesting. Eventually I¡¯d fall behind someone like Gomorrah who speciaised, though. I was still in the honeymoon phase of being a samurai however. I still had time to experiment and try shit, and it wasn¡¯t as if there was a lack of things to experiment on at the moment. ¡°I¡¯m gonna need something to knock people out, I think,¡± I said. I¡¯m sure I can find something that can do that. Flashbangs? Gas-based grenades? ¡°How about, uh...¡± I ran my hand against my front, looking for the currently empty pouches on my suit. ¡°Two of each?¡± Myalis summoned the grenades for me, and I stuffed them away by feel alone. It was nice to have a small contingency for when shit inevitably went south. By the time I¡¯d tucked everything away, I was back on the same floor as the clinic. It was a little strange being indoors so late at night, mostly because there was no way to tell. The LED lighting was the same off-white as during the day, and there were plenty of people wandering around, doing their own things. Stores that were automated didn¡¯t have much of a reason to close at night either, so while a few places were shut down, plenty were still operating. I walked into the open space where the clinic was located and glanced around. There were more gangsters than I had noticed last time. The bakery was closed at the moment, which made sense, it was operated by actual people. See-Three was pacing in front of the clinic, arms crossed while two more cyborged-up people lingered in the clinic. I moved over to her, then past, carefully avoiding a few heaps of broken glass on the floor, just in case. The clinic had been spruced up a little since I¡¯d last been here. We had chairs now, and a dividing wall between the front and rear. The back had two operating rooms set up. They weren¡¯t exactly super clean, more like dentist offices than a real operating room, but that would do for replacing prosthetics. The rest of the space in the back seemed to be a small workshop of sorts, combined with a small office space and break room, all squeezed into a tight little place that probably wouldn¡¯t be all that comfortable. ¡°So, what kind of theft are we dealing with here?¡± I muttered. One of the cyborgs turned my way, but dismissed the noise after a moment. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. She didn¡¯t lie about the lack of cameras within. I noticed some linked to other stores in this area. Their footage is recorded off-site, however. It¡¯ll require some finesse to grab it from their servers. Or permission. Do you want me to contact the owners? I nodded. Getting a recording of whichever dumbass robbed the place would help. Not that I thought we¡¯d really need it. There was a massive painting of a rat sticking out of a green pipe painted across one of the walls of the clinic, right over our new waiting room chairs. It was actually pretty well done for some quick graffiti. I took a picture of it with my augs, then stepped out. My invisibility shut down as I came to stand behind See-Three. ¡°Does that giant rat image mean anything?¡± I asked. See-Three gasped and spun around, her hand--made flat like a blade--rushing towards my neck. I stepped back and out of the wild swing. ¡°Hey there,¡± I said. ¡°Sorry, didn¡¯t mean to spook you that bad.¡± See-Three paused in the act of ripping a handgun from a holster. ¡°Who the fuck are you?¡± she asked. ¡°You¡¯re not a Ventrat.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Cat? New outfit. You literally called me out of bed about... twenty-ish minutes ago.¡± See-Three scanned me up and down, then she slid her gun back in place. ¡°I didn¡¯t see you coming in,¡± she said. ¡°Nice outfit?¡± ¡°Nor did I,¡± one of her cyborg buddies said. His voice sounded entirely text-to-speech, without anything fancy to make it sound properly human. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to be seen,¡± I said simply. ¡°And I wanted to get a lay of things before anything else. I got my look though. What can you tell me about what happened?¡± ¡°See-Three, you didn¡¯t tell us you were dealing with a samurai,¡± the borg said. ¡°I... wasn¡¯t sure,¡± See-Three said. ¡°And it didn¡¯t seem prudent to bother her with it.¡± Well, that was nice, but it didn¡¯t answer my other questions. ¡°Was this caused by those Ventrats you mentioned?¡± See-Three pulled herself together surprisingly quickly. ¡°We think so. Not too much was stolen, actually. They broke through the front door. We had electronic locks and a metal bar lock in place, but they were able to get past that. Then they were in.¡± ¡°A smash and grab,¡± the borg guy said. I turned towards him and his other pal and took the two in properly. The more talkative of the two had a squared off head like something ripped from a drone, linked to a robotic upper body. His legs looked mechanical too, and I had to wonder how much human was left in him. The other looked a lot less extreme. Two eyes, a few mods tacked onto his skull, one robotic hand that looked like it was designed to carry a rotating set of tools. ¡°Right. Well, this is unacceptable,¡± I said. ¡°Do we know what they grabbed?¡± ¡°The prosthetics we received were all in a big container at the back,¡± See-Three said. ¡°There must be a million credits worth of tech in that box. We had a lot of tools too, they¡¯re missing.¡± So, the Ventrats come over, break in, then leave with everything valuable. ¡°That wasn¡¯t very smart of them. Witnesses?¡± ¡°Locals, yeah. They didn¡¯t move to help,¡± See-Three said. It clearly frustrated her. ¡°The gang on this floor let me know where the Ventrats ran off to. So that¡¯s something. No one will want to do anything about it.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°This building isn¡¯t linked to city police,¡± borg-guy said. ¡°It¡¯s got its own security offices, and they¡¯re unlikely to help.¡± ¡°Of course not,¡± I sighed. Then I pulled out my Laser Pointer with a shrug. ¡°Welp, time to make an example. Can you three stay here, maybe clean things up? I¡¯m going to see if I can¡¯t get our shit back.¡± ¡°Alone?¡± See-Three asked. ¡°See-Three, she¡¯s a samurai,¡± Borg-guy said. I pointed to him for confirmation. ¡°I can probably handle a little crew of common street thugs. Like, I don¡¯t want to sound over-confident, but I¡¯m maybe a little overqualified for this. But we can talk about that later. I¡¯m gonna get our shit back, then we can chat, alright?¡± See-Three didn¡¯t seem entirely pleased with that, but she didn¡¯t press the issue. ¡°Alright,¡± she said. ¡°Cool! See you in like, half an hour, tops.¡± It wouldn¡¯t take much more than that to figure this out, right? Then I could be back in bed, snuggling up with Lucy, and catching up on sleep again. Easy. *** Magical Girl Mercenary for Hire - Chapter Two Magical Girl Mercenary for Hire - Chapter Two >> 2041 >> Continent: North America >> Country: Old New York >> City: Mega City New New York >> 9:48am Beatrice yawned big, a hand covering her mouth just the way her mom had taught her. She blinked a few times, and tried to stay awake, but it was hard. Every time she rode the metro, she found herself being sapped of energy. There was just something about the sticky seats, the constant rumble, and the cloying scent of hydrocarbons that did a number on her. The train car was quiet except for a crying baby cradled in their mom¡¯s arms, and a junkie a few rows down muttering to himself while rubbing at an exposed arm covered in needle traces. ¡®We really should consider a new means of travelling around,¡¯ Chys said from where they were cuddled against Beatrice¡¯s chest. ¡°Yeah. Maybe later though,¡± she replied. She was planning on buying a set of shoes that would let her fly. Or giant deployable angel wings. Those would be appropriately magical-girl-y. She really wanted a halo that hovered over her head and which acted as a laser array. Beatrice blinked. That was a fantastic idea! She sat Chys down on the seat next to her, where the unearthly creature stepped gingerly on the plastic bench, then she pulled out her notebook of ideas from her backpack and started making some quick drawings of what her magical-girl angel look would be like. She liked using paper and pen, there was just something about it that felt very classy and fancy, even if it was a little less convenient than using a tablet or just making things on her augs. The train pulled to a stop and Beatrice checked her augs. This was her stop. ¡°Oh, shoot,¡± she muttered as she started stuffing things away in a hurry. She rushed to the exit, Chys hopping along after her. Commander Carpenter had sent her an email the previous evening with their meeting spot for the day. Surprisingly it wasn¡¯t at the Wraith Ranger headquarters. Instead, Beatrice found herself exiting the subway station using a long set of stairs that disgorged her and almost no one else onto the ground level of the city. To her left were rows and rows of mega buildings and skyscrapers, all packed in close. The roads at this level were congested with automated traffic, mostly large trucks that were little more than an engine and a bed for the cargo they carried. To her right, the city was a ruin. It was almost possible to draw a line across the area where the devastation started and ended. Pristine buildings gave way to megabuildings with holes blown through their sides, with multitudes of broken windows and even a few buildings which had tipped dangerously to one side or the other. Construction crews were crawling over the buildings, with multiple cranes at work dismantling things already. Beatrice listened, and was able just barely make out the sounds of the coastline less than a kilometre away. ¡°Do you think we¡¯ll see the coast?¡± she asked. ¡®It¡¯s plausible.¡¯ Beatrice secured her backpack, then scooped Chys up. She tsked and pulled out a used napkin from a pocket and started to wipe Chys¡¯ little paws free of grime. Her augs updated her with the location of the meetup. It was one of the buildings nearby, just on the bad side of the line of destruction. She had to walk a little ways, but that was fine. Crossing the street was tricky, but Chys told some of the trucks to stop, and she scurried across and into the building where she was supposed to meet the others. The ground floor had a large lobby space, with several stairs and elevator access, and, at one of the counters, a Wraith Ranger. ¡°Hello,¡± Beatrice said. The ranger looked her up and down. ¡°You¡¯re our VIP?¡± she asked. She was a woman about the same age as Beatrice¡¯s mom, though probably in better health. ¡°I think so,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°I¡¯m Starfire Twirl Cuddle Angel.¡± The woman blinked. ¡°Alright, cool. I¡¯m Emma, Emma Harper, with Magic Squad. You¡¯re with me.¡± Beatrice rushed to follow the woman as she took off deeper into the building. It didn¡¯t take long before she shoved an Employee¡¯s only door open and lead Beatrice down an echoy staircase. ¡°Where are we going?¡± Beatrice asked. ¡°And I need to change.¡± She was still in her normal civilian clothes. A nice t-shirt with some old magical girl show art on the front, and a zip-up hoodie. It was a far cry from her costume, which was shoved into her pack. ¡°Just down here,¡± Emma said. ¡°Have you been briefed?¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Not yet!¡± Beatrice said. ¡°I read the email, but it didn¡¯t say much.¡± Emma nodded. ¡°Titan will go over things with the full squad.¡± They got to a landing and Beatrice worked hard to pretend that she wasn¡¯t out of breath. Emma shoved another door open and they found themselves in some sort of access tunnel place under the building. There were pipes all over and wires and several things that beeped. ¡°Want to get changed before seeing the guys?¡± Emma asked, her voice pitched a lot lower now that they were closer together. ¡°That would be nice,¡± Beatrice said. Emma nodded, then brought her to a small employee bathroom. Beatrice thanked her, then slipped in. It was gross, the kind of place that probably hadn¡¯t been washed out in years, though it probably hadn¡¯t been used much in that time either, which was a small comfort. Beatrice set her pack down, then changed as quickly as she could. She made another note to get a magical transforming outfit sooner rather than later. Still, it only took a minute or two for her to change into her dress then stash away all of her gear. She stepped out, feeling weird about having a backpack while dressed as a magical girl. ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± she said. Emma nodded, then looked her over. ¡°You really are a samurai, huh?¡± ¡°I guess so,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°Did you think I wasn¡¯t?¡± ¡°Well, the higher ups weren¡¯t all that clear about what was going on today. Just that we¡¯d be getting help from an expert. All I had to work off of was one security camera image of you.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°I guess I¡¯m a bit young to be an expert, then?¡± Emma shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ve worked with some interesting people over the years. A couple were on the younger side. Hell, some clients were young too.¡± She gestured ahead to a door off to one side that was open. ¡°The boys are in here. Hey guys.¡± Beatrice followed Emma into a tightly-packed room. It was warm, with several racks of dusty computers to one side that were humming along. A large monitor setup to one side showed rotating camera images of the inside of some sort of facility while others had readouts that she didn¡¯t have time to make out. Her interest was pulled towards the two men in the room. Both of them were on the bigger, more muscley side. A tall dark-skinned man, and next to him a slightly shorter but bulkier white guy with a well-trimmed beard. ¡°Guys, this is the expert,¡± Emma said. ¡°Hello,¡¯ Beatrice replied. She was feeling rather nervous until she reminded herself that she was a magical girl, and magical girls shouldn¡¯t be shy. ¡°I¡¯m, uh, Laser Heart Fluffypants Cosmic... uh, Giggle Time Princess.¡± The men looked at each other, then the shorter of the two nodded. ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Laser Heart Fluffypants Cosmic Giggle Time Princess. I¡¯m Lieutenant Hayes, Callsign Titan. This is Ranger Specialist Thorne, callsign C4. And you¡¯ve met Ranger Specialist Mouse already.¡± She glanced at Emma who nodded back. ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°So... uh... is this everyone?¡± ¡°This is everyone,¡± Titan said with a friendly smile. ¡°If they didn¡¯t send us, then they¡¯d need to send in an army,¡± the other man, C4, said. ¡°But we¡¯re the best at taking care of big problems. Don¡¯t you worry.¡± ¡°So, what kind of problem are we dealing with?¡± she asked. ¡°The email mentioned a rogue AI?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s get all of our bases covered,¡± Titan said. ¡°Mouse, want to break down the history here? I¡¯ll brief everyone on our mission right after.¡± Emma fired off a quick salute. ¡°Can do, boss,¡± she said before standing with her arms folded at the small of her back. ¡°A year ago, a company by the name of Mythtech started experimenting with advanced AI. We don¡¯t know much about their experiments. They¡¯re a branch of Nimbletainment that does AI research and development for commercial uses. During last month¡¯s incursion, their facility located in sub-level B3 through to B8 of this building were cut off from the mesh. Something went wrong, and the people working here can¡¯t establish communications with the central systems anymore. Automated security is set to dispatch any intruders, which means that someone, us, needs to go in and either shut security down, or reboot it so that the facility can be manned again.¡± ¡°Succinct,¡± Titan said. ¡°That¡¯s our job. We go in, we get to the main server on B6, we boot things up, then we get rich.¡± ¡°That sounds easy,¡± Beatrice said. She wasn¡¯t sure they even needed a magical girl for something like this, but she supposed that being given an easy job to start with was just normal. In any case, she was getting a little excited to start! *** Chapter Thirty-Two - Rathunt Chapter Thirty-Two - Rathunt ¡°No one wants to live in a megabuilding. Not like we have any damned choice, so might as well make the best of it, right, you fucking rats?¡± --Jeffery ¡®Whiskers¡¯ Tablespoon, 2055 *** ¡°So, where can I find these...¡± I paused to yawn. ¡°Assholes?¡± I was already walking deeper into the building, towards the far end of the square that held our little clinic. I wasn¡¯t sure where I¡¯d be going, but there were several corridors leading off into the distance so it was a good bet that I¡¯d be in this general direction. I¡¯m tracking them now. Unfortunately, there are surprisingly few working cameras outside of the market areas. Myalis opened a little box in the corner of my vision and started playing a video within it. It was the front of the clinic, seen from the corner of a camera. I turned, matching the angles of what I was seeing until I spotted where the camera had to be. It was hidden behind the signage for a little automated doughnut shop across the square from the clinic. The video continued to fast forward until it paused on a group of five people standing in front of the clinic. One of them had a crowbar that he was using with expertise to rip the door open. ¡°Why is this kind of footage always a blurry mess?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s like... can you even buy cameras with such shitty quality anymore?¡± The camera is able to capture much higher fidelity. It¡¯s the data-transfer rates for off-site storage that encourage the owners of the security to reduce the quality of their footage. I shook my head. It made sense, I supposed, but it was still annoying. I watch the five rip into the clinic, then come rushing out with a crate held between them. A sixth member rushed over pushing a wheeled trash bin, and they dumbed the container with all of our prosthetics into it. Then the lot of them took off running. Myalis switched cameras, and I was able to see which passage they took. ¡°You lost them after this?¡± I asked. I tracked them down two floors, which brings them close to the floor operated by the so-called Ventrats. There isn¡¯t any clear evidence of who committed the crime, however. The screen split into six, an image of each one of the assholes on each. Myalis added some metrics next to the images, heights as compared to the doorway and approximate weight and presented gender. ¡°Right,¡± I said as I took them in. there weren¡¯t any faces. All six of them were wearing full-face masks. Just black disks with holes for eyes with some sort of covering, and most of them had hoodies on over that. We had some skin colour, from two members that didn¡¯t wear gloves, or who reached up and exposed some stomachs, but that was it. They were surprisingly clever about this. I followed the direction they¡¯d run in while pushing their trash bin filled with my shit. Myalis continued to point towards where they went, and soon enough I found myself in a stairwell, walking past graffiti murals that had been there so long they were peeling and stepping over sleeping forms on the steps. I made it to the right floor, then shoved my way past a pair of guys standing guard at the door. They cursed and looked around, but I wasn¡¯t visible, so their search turned up nothing. This was a residential floor, which meant a square grid of corridors lined with doors that had numbers on them. The Ventrats, as it turned out, weren¡¯t making much of an effort to hide where they were hanging out. I found a group of some dozen or so younger people, all dressed in black and frequently wearing plastic rat masks all hanging out in one of the dead-ends to one side of the floor. The walls behind them were covered in images of rats, all done in a sort of cell-shaded style, often with large green pipes. It was a miracle that a Nintendo hit-squad hadn¡¯t wiped them out already. I slipped between a few of the Ventrats by the entrance of the dead end, then stepped over a few more deeper in that looked like they were knocked out by whatever shit they were plugging into their own veins. I wasn¡¯t surprised by the drugs. I was surprised by the amount. The Ventrats were doing well for themselves. Interestingly, I didn¡¯t notice much by way of cybernetics. Maybe one or two eyes, or some cosmetic mods, but no borgs or even a cybernetic arm or leg in sight. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. My gaze kept sweeping over the group. Something was... off, here. These people looked either sleepy, or just tired. That fit with the hour, I supposed. Moving deeper into their little corner, I found that the apartments at the end of the hall had the walls between them ripped out to create a much bigger floor space. That was probably their main hangout. The interior had a few fridges, some couches, and a very expensive entertainment system pressed up against one wall. A shirtless man with whiskers tattooed to his face was sitting on a big ass couch, one leg over the arm, a hand resting on a fuck-huge revolver. ¡°That the boss?¡± I asked. According to his NMPD criminal record, this is Jeffery ¡®Whiskers¡¯ Tablespoon, the leader of the Ventrats. I blinked. ¡°Fucking, Tablespoon?¡± I didn¡¯t pick his name. I couldn¡¯t imagine that Whiskers here picked out his family name either. With a name like that, I might also have considered a life of crime. I kicked his shin, and Whiskers jumped, blinking fast as he took in the room. Reaching down, I plucked his gun away and tossed it to the far end of the room, then I pulled out my Laser Pointer and aimed it at him. He stared at the floating gun, mouth agape, and didn¡¯t seem to know what to do about it. So, in a show of mercy, I uninvisibled myself. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°Who the fuck are you?¡± he asked. He was awake now. ¡°Just the friendly neighbourhood Stray Cat. Where¡¯s my shit, Whiskers?¡± Whiskers looked around, but his buddies weren¡¯t as quick to move as he was. He looked for his gun, then started to reach for another gun left on a side table nearby. I poked him in the chest with the end of my rifle. ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked as he fell back. ¡°Someone that was woken up at a stupid hour of the morning to deal with your morons. Where¡¯s my shit?¡± Whiskers fell back into his seat and looked at me. Really looked at me. ¡°Did the seventh-floor fucks send you?¡± he asked. He¡¯s actually looking you up now. I squinted. Yeah, his eyes were twitching very slightly in that tell-tale sign that he was using his augs. It was pretty subtle, though. ¡°Ah, shit, you¡¯re a samurai,¡± he said. ¡°An annoyed one,¡± I said. ¡°It wasn¡¯t us,¡± he said. ¡°What wasn¡¯t you?¡± I asked. He swallowed. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but it wasn¡¯t us,¡± he said. This guy... ¡°Look, some punks stole from a clinic a few floors up, one that¡¯s under my protection. Give me all the shit you stole back, maybe grovel a bit, and this won¡¯t end in bloodshed. I really don¡¯t want to have to take a shower before getting back to bed, you know?¡± He nodded, then paused. ¡°We really didn¡¯t take your shit, though,¡± he said. ¡°Myalis, send him the videos, and that pic I took of the tag they left in the clinic.¡± Sending. It took a moment for Whiskers to look over everything, but he was shaking his head halfway through. ¡°That¡¯s not us,¡± he said. ¡°I know my rats, that¡¯s not them. We don¡¯t wear that kind of mask. And the tag¡¯s all wrong. The rat only has one tail, and the pipe¡¯s the wrong green.¡± I turned, looked at the nearest wall. There were a few gang tags on it, rats poking out of pipes and tunnels, some rather graphic images of rats doing all sorts of weird shit. They all had two tails. The pipes were all a cartoonish green too. I compared it to the picture I¡¯d taken while in the clinic. It didn¡¯t quite match, either stylistically, or with the number of tails. ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s a set-up,¡± he said. ¡°The people that took my shit brought it to this floor.¡± ¡°We only run the east-side. There¡¯s a service elevator on the west-end. They could have gone right through. Wait, here, I¡¯m linked into the cameras there. We use them to see who comes in.¡± Whiskers sent me a quick link, which would have been exceptionally stupid to open, so I let Myalis play with it. Interesting. I pulled back, lowering my gun away from Whisker¡¯s chest. ¡°Interesting?¡± Another little box with some footage, this time of the gate in front of an elevator. The same six people rushed to it and pulled the gate open, then loaded themselves and that trash bin in. ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± I muttered before going invisible again. This was going to take all damned night, wasn¡¯t it? *** Chapter Thirty-Three - Cleaning Up Chapter Thirty-Three - Cleaning Up ¡°Gangs start when people have a reason to stick together. If the world was all nice and good, if it wasn¡¯t split because of class and race and violence, then you wouldn¡¯t have anyone deciding that the best way to earn some peace and respect is to stick together and mess up anyone that gets in their way.¡± --Laserjack, 2051 *** I rode up the elevator with my arms crossed, glaring through my visor at the elevator¡¯s door until the entire thing came to a grinding halt and the doors shuttered open. I hadn¡¯t hurt the Ventrats. They weren¡¯t to blame, so their leader got a stern warning to keep on minding his business before I left. It wasn¡¯t fun, this chasing after thieves in the night. The elevator had a small computer in it that tracked which floors it had stopped on previously, with timestamps and all. It was easy once I was at it to hook Myalis into the elevator¡¯s little control panel and let her do her thing. It meant that we were now on the right floor, about three floors away from ground level, deep into the pits of the mega building. That didn¡¯t seem ideal. The door finished opening and I stepped out invisibly into a dank corridor which... I paused. The corridor was clean. I had come here with a clear and obvious preconception, expecting more graffitied walls and floors with years of grime stuck to them, but that wasn¡¯t the case. The linoleum was worn in the centre where people walked more, but it was otherwise spotless. The walls were clean, free of mould or stains. Even the ceiling was free of spiderwebs or smoke stains. For some reason, the sheer cleanliness set me more on edge than if I¡¯d walked out to discover an army waiting for me. ¡°Who lives on this floor?¡± I asked. There is a database of residents, but it doesn¡¯t exactly include their gang affiliations, nor would I consider it overly accurate. One thing does stand out, however. ¡°Yeah?¡± I asked. Over four fifths of this building¡¯s cleaning staff live on this floor, and law enforcement reports suggest that one of the gangs inhabiting the building is called the Janitors. ¡°Janitors? So they¡¯re what, a gang of cleaners? Or is it a euphemism? They ¡®take out the trash¡¯ or something stupid like that?¡± There is little information available on them on the net. Even less than I¡¯m finding about the other groups that inhabit this building. A cursory search suggests that someone is making an effort to delete and suppress any discussion of the group. It¡¯s all archived and retrievable. ¡°So, they hid information about themselves, but you can still get to it?¡± Yes. But the mere act of suppression and deleting that information has dampened any discussions. Oftentimes, the information I can learn about someone is circumstantial, or pieced together from several sources that each only give me a few small pieces of the puzzle. By keeping discussions to a minimum, I have little to work with and less information that¡¯s trustworthy or corroborated from multiple sources. ¡°Right,¡± I said. I more or less understood that. It was like hearing gossip to learn about someone. Only probably more complicated than I cared to dive into. ¡°So, the Janitor gang. Any idea where they hang out?¡± A few members have active social media accounts tracking their movements. They seem to concentrate in a small, unlicensed bar called the Broom Closet. Of course they did. Myalis helpfully tossed the directions up onto my augs and I started making my silent way across the floor. It took a few turns before I met anyone in the corridors. I slid to one side to let a trio of middle-aged guys in jumpsuits move past. They weren¡¯t wearing gear that matched, colour-wise, but it was clear that they had a theme going. Or maybe jumpsuits had become stylish for 40-something guys when I wasn¡¯t paying attention. They had a whole host of drab colours to pick from, and it looked like at least one of them had decorated his with some patches and a utility belt. I didn¡¯t miss the gun tucked into the belt either. Last I checked, handguns weren¡¯t cleaning implements. ¡°Takes all sorts,¡± I muttered before stifling a yawn. Fuck, I wanted to be back in bed already. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. It didn¡¯t take too long to find the Broom Closet. I just had to follow the noise. All of the clubs I¡¯d been to had a thing for loud noises, this one wasn¡¯t an exception, though they weren¡¯t playing modern music but some oldies. Maroon Five and Adele and the kind of stuff older people liked. The entrance to the Broom Closet was, unsurprisingly, a broom closet. Just another small doorway with a mop and bucket logo on the front of it. The only hint other than the music that it was something more was the way the linoleum was worn out. I paused next to the door. ¡°Any cameras?¡± I whispered. None pointing to the doorway. I nodded, then carefully turned the handle enough to undo the latch. A little pull after that, and I let go, the door slowly opening on its own momentum. Hopefully it just looked like it wasn¡¯t latched properly to anyone looking. I waited, expecting someone to come over and pull the door shut, but when no one did, I slipped into the closet. Then I chuckled, because Lucy would love this bit in the retelling. The Broom Closet really did start off as a large utility closet. There was one of those rideable floor-cleaning machines with the pads on the bottom left to charge, and a few mop and buckets. There was a second door at the back, but this one was already opened up and led into an entirely misplaced bar. I snuck past the cleaning supplies, then paused by the threshold of the bar. It was surprisingly festive in there. A long counter ran along one wall, with an automated bartending machine behind it. The rest of the room had a few round tables and tall chairs, though a number of them were pushed to the side. A half dozen men were moving around, laughing, clinking drinks, and bobbing their heads in time with the music. I blinked, then noticed that some of the men were women. Jumpsuits turned everyone into a genderless blob that was more janitor than person, I supposed. ¡°Ah, there they are, the fucks,¡± I muttered. At the back of the room, sitting in a corner booth, were four guys in all-black outfits. Two were wearing familiar masks on their heads, and there were more of them on the tabletop next to half-empty mugs of beer. Four of the six assholes that had broken into my clinic, just sitting back and patting themselves on the shoulder for a job well done. The fucks. I don¡¯t know if it was the lack of sleep, the untimely interruption, or just the way the group looked so damned pleased with themselves, but I was getting to be pretty damned pissed off. I crossed the room in a straight line, only slowing down to rip one of the chairs out from behind a guy in the middle of the room. I dragged the seat after me, its feet scraping across the floor and drawing a few eyes its way. Chairs didn¡¯t usually scrape their way across a room all on their own. I spun the chair around in front of the corner table, pulled out my Trench Maker, then sat down and flicked off my invisibility. The idiots in the booth reeled back for a moment. ¡°Alright,¡± I said. I was liking their expressions a lot more now. ¡°Where the fuck are my limbs?¡± A couple of guys bolted out of the Broom Closet. I probably should have closed the door. A few others pulled out guns, mostly little handguns, but one guy had an old-school pump-action. No one was pointing anything yet, but the tension in the room had reached a dangerous high. If all of them unloaded on me, what were the chances that I¡¯d come out alright? ¡°Put your guns away,¡± I snapped. ¡°And someone turn off that noise.¡± The music cut off with a snap, pitching the entire bar into a sudden silence that only made everything so much more tense. ¡°You¡¯re Stray Cat,¡± one of the Janitors said. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. It was nice, being recognized when I was trying to scare the shit out of someone. ¡°You guys. Where are my limbs?¡± The last was directed at the idiots sitting across from me. One of them, who looked particularly stupid wearing his mask on his head, sat up straighter. ¡°Don¡¯t know what you¡¯re on about,¡± he said. I blinked. ¡°Let me put it this way. Either you chucklefucks--¡± I assumed that was a term these old guys would understand--¡±Give me back the arms and legs you stole from my clinic. Or I start grabbing replacements, and I¡¯m not picky when it comes to whether they¡¯re prosthetics or meat limbs.¡± *** Magical Girl Mercenary for Hire - Chapter Three Chapter Three >> 2041 >> Continent: North America >> Country: Old New York >> City: Mega City New New York >> 10:12am I didn¡¯t know what to think about the way the guys in Magic squad moved. Titan took the lead, walking at a pace that was easy to keep up with, his rifle was butted up against his shoulder while pointing to the ground ahead of him. Mouse came in behind talking almost sideways so that she was facing his left, and C4 took up the rear. He had his big gun slung over his shoulder and was aiming a handgun to the right. I was behind Mouse and in front of C4, feeling kind of awkwards with my Wand of .50cal in hand. I didn¡¯t know where to point it, but it seemed like they were going through a lot of trouble not to point their guns at each other, so I tried to do the same. The problem was, of course, that Magic squad moved like soldiers, all crouch-y and snappy movements and quick moves of their heads to look for trouble. I wasn¡¯t a soldier though, I was a magical girl. It felt wrong to skip after them though, and I was pretty sure my poofy dress was all wrong for the kind of movement they were doing, so I just walked behind them normally. Being shorter did mean that I was at about the same height with them, even as they walked at a crouch. ¡°Elevator,¡± Titan said with a quick forward swipe of his hand. I blinked and leaned to the side to see ahead. The corridor we were in continued for a while, then stopped at the elevator. That was it. There wasn¡¯t anything else to see, unless someone was really fascinated by overhead pipes and wires. ¡°This is the first level of the lock,¡± Mouse said as we came up to the elevator. Titan and C4 moved to the sides, pointing their guns towards the closed doors while Mouse crouched next to the panel with the up-down buttons. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan, then?¡± I asked. ¡°We, and my we I mean I, override the elevator controls. We drop down. This one only goes down to B4. We¡¯ll have to cross over to a second elevator below to get to B6, which is our ultimate goal.¡± I nodded along. This was supposed to be a simple walk in the park kind of mission. Mouse undid some screws on the panel, then pulled it off and set it to the side. The backside was a dusty panel with a few wires and a small bus that Mouse rubbed with her thumb. She reached up to the big goggles she was wearing and pulled out a long cord that she plugged into it. The goggles lit up from within as she did some cool hacking stuff. ¡°Alright, elevator¡¯s he--¡± Mouse began. The doors slid open, and for a split second my heart leapt up into my throat. There was a monster in the elevator. A model three! It was-- Titan and C4 opened up and the corridor filled with loud bangs. I flinched down and away, the noise was impossibly loud and there were flashes all over. When I stopped flinching and opened one eye to see what was going on, I discovered a dead... no, not dead. It wasn¡¯t alive to begin with. What I¡¯d taken as a model three was, in reality, a four-legged robot. It was... or had been before Titan and C4 opened up on it, a plastic and metal machine, about as tall as my hip. It lacked a head, but its back had a turret mounted onto it with several barrels sticking out of it. ¡°A security drone,¡± C4 said. I noticed Titan looked at me. ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked. I nodded. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m okay,¡± I said. ¡°You sure?¡± I nodded harder and tried to dampen down my blush. If that had been a model three, then I¡¯d probably be a dead magical girl. I wasn¡¯t prepared to fight it at all. I distracted myself by checking over my gear. ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± I said. I loosened my Ultra Kawaii Mark two personal flamethrower in its hidey spot, prepped my flying daggers, and then shifted my grip on my Wand of .50cal. Titan nodded, and he turned back to the elevator. ¡°Let¡¯s turn this thing onto its side. It¡¯ll give us some partial cover, at least. Mouse, do you think the AI knows we just took it out?¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Very probable, but not guaranteed,¡± Mouse said. ¡°The entire B2 to B8 area is one big faraday cage. It¡¯s possible that it sent this one up autonomously.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s not bet on it,¡± Titan said. ¡°Chaff?¡± ¡°On it,¡± C4 said. I watched as C4 started placing small square devices atop and alongside the interior of the elevator¡¯s door. Titan, meanwhile, moved the drone onto its side and kicked it around some more, creating a sort of half-wall that we could use for cover. Mouse slipped into the elevator last. We arranged ourselves facing the exit. C4 switched out his handgun for a big auto shotgun, and Titan took a moment to reload his rifle, then he laid it down atop the drone. ¡°One sec,¡± I said to the others before we could go on. I placed Chys onto the drone body where they turned around to face me. ¡°Can I have ear protection? Something cute!¡± ¡®Of course! Did you want something from your drawings?¡¯ Chys asked. ¡°Yes please,¡± I said with a nod. Chys spun around in another little circle, and between one spin and the next, a little box appeared. I grabbed it while glancing at a little display in the corner of my vision. My remaining points ticker was just under the time of day. I¡¯d gone down six, which really wasn¡¯t much. Opening the box revealed a very cute little beret, done up in the same colours as my costume, with a floofy feather on it. It also had a headband of sorts, with two very discrete plugs on the end that were obviously meant to be shoved into my ears. I put the beret and hair-band on, then plugged each earpiece in. I couldn¡¯t hear a difference, but I imagined it would help with the loud bangs. ¡°Okay,¡± I said to the others. The entire squad was looking at me. My new hat must have been particularly fetching. ¡°Let¡¯s go kick that rogue AI¡¯s butt!¡± ¡°Right,¡± Titan said. ¡°Mouse, the elevator?¡± ¡°On it,¡± Mouse said. A moment later the elevator clunked, the doors whispered shut, and we started down. I aimed my Wand of .50cal at the door, waiting with baited breath for it to open. The elevator stopped. The doors opened. I knew, instantly, that there was trouble. The hallway it opened up to was dark. Dark-dark, without even emergency lights on. The only light I picked up in that first split-second was a small green LED that moved to one side. Then C4 screamed. ¡°Drones!¡± There was a ¡®bang¡¯ from above as the little charges he¡¯d placed around the door went off, and suddenly the dark was filled with small pieces of tinsel-like confetti raining out ahead of us. The three soldiers opened fire, and this time their guns sounded no louder than someone saying ¡®pow, pow¡¯ at an elevated volume nearby. In the muzzle flash, I was able to see what they were aiming at, then Chys came in, and my vision slowly improved as my AI companion did something with my Augs. Three drones, same as the one we¡¯d seen. Two turrets in the ceiling. The soldiers were focusing fire on the nearest of the dog drones, so I pointed my wand at the one next to it. ¡°Uwu! Uwu!¡± I shouted. The wand kicked in my hand a little, but it wasn¡¯t so bad. I turned my aim to the third dog, in the back. ¡°Uwu!¡± It folded, collapsing almost right away, so I brought my aim up towards the turrets even as one of them started firing our way. I felt movement whizzing by. ¡°Uwu! Uwu!¡± I shouted, and the turret burst apart. Then, with a final ¡°Uwu!¡± I shot at the last turret, turning it into so much scrap. We all paused for a moment after that. Mouse¡¯s large-eyed helmet had a built in flashlight, and the boys had some lights on their rigging and guns too. It painted the image of a corridor filled with so much scrap. ¡°Nice... uh, shooting,¡± C4 said. ¡°Thanks!¡± I said. I grabbed my wand by the middle, noting that it was warmer than usual, then I cracked it in half. Six brass casings, each longer than my longest finger, clunked to the ground. ¡°Once I reload, we should keep going,¡± I said. *** Chapter Thirty-Four - Somethings Dirty Down In CleanTown Chapter Thirty-Four - Something''s Dirty Down In CleanTown ¡°Laundering materials and equipment has, strangely, become exponentially more complex, even as crime has mounted and become far more common. That¡¯s because of technology like this. A simple RFID tag, no bigger than a grain of sand, can be hidden in nearly any piece of equipment and will allow you to track it across a city.¡± --Securatek Demonstration, 2031 *** ¡°No one wants to talk?¡± I asked the silent room. I looked around, but all I found were grown men and women in baggy uniforms who didn¡¯t want to meet my gaze. They were still fondling their guns though. Honestly, this whole thing could go pretty damned poorly. I was probably mostly bullet-proof, but there were two dozen of them to one of me, and if they piled on, it would get messy. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. I stood up from the chair, then flung it aside. It crashed to the ground with a bang, and I saw half the room jump at the noise. Reaching down, I plucked a grenade from one of my pockets and placed it on the booth¡¯s table right in front of the three masked morons. ¡°Who came up with your plan?¡± I asked. None of them answered, but their eyes gave them away. Two of them glanced to the side and I turned, following their gaze to the end of the room where a man was standing next to the sound system. He was a middle aged guy, balding, a bit sweaty, and holding onto a large beer with white-knuckled fingers. I touched the grenade I¡¯d placed on the table. ¡°If any of you three moves, this goes off,¡± I said. Then I carefully put my Trench Maker away. The tension in the room relaxed a hair, at least until I drew my sword. The Void Terminus didn''t look like much when it wasn¡¯t active. There wasn¡¯t a blade on it. Instead, the entire shaft was a long rod with a sort of cap on the end. It almost looked like a tool rather than a weapon. I walked slowly across the room, hoping that no one would try anything funny, then I stopped before the guy. ¡°You the boss?¡± I asked. That¡¯s Robert Brigadeiro. He¡¯s the manager of this building¡¯s janitorial unit. Robert swallowed, but he was quick to get his shit together. ¡°I¡¯m the manager, yes,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing here, Miss Samurai. We have nothing to do with you. We¡¯re just the cleaning staff.¡± ¡°Well it looks like you, or at least some of your buddies here, cleaned out my clinic upstairs. I¡¯m a little annoyed about it, to be honest. And I want to know where my limbs ended up. Those were meant to help people, you know.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯re just cleaning staff, that¡¯s all.¡± ¡°Uh-huh. You won¡¯t mind if I have my AI check your augs then? Just to be sure?¡± Robert was sweating bullets and blinking fast. He wiped the back of his hand across his face. ¡°I... I don¡¯t know. I mean. No. I don¡¯t want that.¡± ¡°Then tell me where my shit is, and you can... well, no, I¡¯m not just going to allow you to go back to partying after robbing from armless and legless people, but at least I won¡¯t kill you all and then find out by hacking through your augs.¡± Robert shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s too late,¡± he said. ¡°What do you mean, it¡¯s too late.¡± ¡°Let my people go, please,¡± he said. ¡°Most of them have nothing to do with this.¡± ¡°Most of them are here partying too, aren¡¯t they?¡± I asked. ¡°Spill.¡± ¡°We sold them. Everything we grabbed. You have to understand, we¡¯re the cleaning people, no one cares about us, we¡¯re practically third-class citizens and it was a lot of credits. We¡¯re invisible to most people, so it was--¡± I poked him in the chest with the end of my sword¡¯s rod and he fell back against the wall, arms rising in surrender by his sides. ¡°Who did you sell them to?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Where did they take them?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Can you get them back?¡± Robert shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± ¡°Fuck you,¡± I barked. The Void Terminus snapped, then it filled the room with a powerful hiss. A black, empty crack appeared between the end of the sword and the end of its hilt, a space dark as night with only the faint glimmer of distant stars within. Immediately, the room filled with a powerful gust and pressure in the room mounted as air was sucked into the crack in reality. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. A loose piece of paper fluttered through the air and into the cut, disappearing in a blink while Robert pissed himself and cried while trying hard to push himself through the wall holding him in place. ¡°All of you, listen to me,¡± I said over the sword¡¯s hiss. It was a damned good thing the door wasn¡¯t closed because otherwise the room might be running out of air soon. ¡°You¡¯re going to find my stuff. You¡¯re going to look real hard for it. Then you¡¯re going to come back here. You have five minutes, and I¡¯ll let your imagination fill you in on what¡¯ll happen if you don¡¯t produce results... go!¡± I turned, tossed the sword up and caught it with my other hand, then pointed to the three in the booth. ¡°Not you three,¡± I said. ¡°You three call the others that helped you on your little heist and tell them to come here before I have to go get them.¡± The janitors took off running out of the room. I was pretty sure I wouldn¡¯t be seeing most of them again, warnings be damned. The three in the booth though, were looking particularly cowed, and Robert was trembling and breathing hard while staring at the void hovering a little too close to his neck for comfort. I sighed and flicked the sword off, then quickly spun it around and slid it back into its sheath. ¡°So, why¡¯d you do it?¡± I asked. I had been angry... and was still a little pissed, but a lot of that anger was fading now. Robert swallowed and pushed himself away from the wall. He really had been trying to melt through it there. ¡°There was an offer,¡± he said. ¡°It was worth a lot. A quarter of what we all make in a year. I couldn¡¯t pass that up, not for such an easy job. We... we don¡¯t do this kind of thing.¡± ¡°Really? So you went from no crime at all to breaking and entering while disguised as a rival gang in one jump?¡± Robert looked a little fidgety. ¡°The most we¡¯ve done is carry things around, maybe dispose of bodies for the other groups above.¡± I couldn¡¯t decide what to do about Robert and his pals, so I just kept an eye on the lot of them and hoped that me standing there would spook them into behaving while I dumped the problem on someone else. ¡°Myalis, what do I do?¡± I subvocalized. In an ideal world, you could contact the authorities about this. You may not be legally beholden to any laws, but the Janitors are. Do you want me to call the police? They¡¯re bound to answer. I shrugged. ¡°Screw it. Sure, call them in. I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯ll be happy about this either, but maybe it¡¯ll send out the right kind of warning.¡± Understood. Message sent. Their response time for this area is thirty-seven minutes. ¡°How far are they?¡± I asked. That amount of time didn¡¯t make sense. The police force I contacted is the nearest. They¡¯re stationed on the topmost floors of this building. ¡°That¡¯s an elevator ride away,¡± I said. They only respond to calls like this in force. It may take time for them to armour up and prepare. I¡¯m not excusing them. This level of inefficiency is impressive only in its scope. ¡°Tell them to send a token force down first, dammit. I¡¯ve got these idiots cowed, I think.¡± I glanced at the Broom Closet¡¯s entrance as two more Janitors in Ventrat costumes came in, then moved towards the booth in the corner, but kept glancing my way. I moved towards them, then crossed my arms near the booth for a moment. ¡°Care to tell me where my stuff is now?¡± I asked. One of the two newcomers actually spoke up, some younger guy with a bit of hair on his chin. ¡°We sent it off,¡± he said. ¡°Sent it off where? To who?¡± Whom. I rolled my eyes which the idiots in front of me couldn¡¯t see, but which Myalis would no doubt notice. ¡°The service dock for trucks on the bottom floor. We loaded it into a self-driving truck and it took off,¡± the guy said. ¡°Fucking hell,¡± I muttered. How hard would it be for someone to have the stuff switch trucks? I¡¯d be able to track things eventually, once the prosthetics got used, they¡¯d probably leave a mark, or be recognizable, but until then? ¡°I''m going to need to ask for help,¡± I muttered. I had someone in mind, someone who¡¯d probably enjoy it if I owed them a small favour and who I¡¯d been meaning to test out. It was worth a try. *** Chapter Thirty-Five - Outfoxed Chapter Thirty-Five - Outfoxed ¡°Samurai and law enforcement go together like matches and open containers of gasoline. It¡¯s generally a terrible idea to mix the two, unless your intent is to light a bonfire.¡± --Chief Jeffrey Waters, Winner of Most Corrupt Cop, 2046 *** It took over half an hour for all of the local police to show up, but when they did, they did in force. Twenty-odd guys and girls in full body armour with taser guns, pepper spray, and LMGs came barrelling onto the floor. Soon anyone wearing jumpsuits was pressed to the floor, hands tied behind their back. They weren¡¯t being gentle about their arrests, and I found it hard to care. I spoke for a minute with some sergeant sort who was accompanied by a lawyer in full SWAT gear. They assured me that everyone would be punished to the full extent of the law, and then some. I told them to chill the fuck off about that, then let Myalis handle the charges. A few of these idiots were in for a rather terrible rest-of-their-lives, but most of them would come out of it alright. I didn¡¯t need this many people having a heap of resentment against me. Once everyone was cuffed up, I walked into the nearest elevator and up. Myalis had done what she could to track the truck that had left with my shit, but that trail went cold far sooner than I would have liked. If I was going to track down my stolen crap, then I¡¯d need to spend time going after it. Time and maybe some resources. I decided to do something entirely different instead. The first step was calling See-Three. ¡°Hey,¡± I said as soon as the line clicked. ¡°Hello?¡± See-three said. ¡°Any luck?¡± ¡°Some,¡± I said. ¡°Tracked the goods down to some group called the Janitors a few floors down. They sold everything to some third party already and things went cold. I think the clinic should be safe for now. We might want to take a serious look at upping our security. Or... yeah, let¡¯s talk about this later.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± See-three said. ¡°One of my friends agreed to stay here for the night. I¡¯ll be returning home to get some shut eye, then I¡¯ll be back before we¡¯re meant to open. Someone needs to explain to our first clients that we don¡¯t have their limbs.¡± I ground my teeth. ¡°It didn¡¯t take long to make the first batch, right? Try to delay things like, six hours? I¡¯m sure we can at least get half of their things made again.¡± ¡°That would be nice,¡± See-Three said. ¡°The last clients we were supposed to meet tom--today were all warned that the first operations might go long anyway.¡± ¡°Cool.¡± I said. So, things weren¡¯t entirely a disaster. ¡°Thank you, Stray Cat. I don¡¯t know about anyone else, but I, at least, appreciate what you¡¯re doing.¡± Well, didn¡¯t that just warm me up? ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°See you around. I need to talk to someone about something.¡± We said our goodbyes just as I was arriving in the parking garage where my bike was waiting for me. I hopped on, flicked on the engine, then roared out of the building in a rush. I had somewhere else to be right then. My first step was to send the next person I¡¯d be chatting to a quick text, asking them if they were even available and awake. I got a reply within seconds. It was wordy, but it made it clear that they were willing to at least discuss things. So I turned my bike towards a mega building in the distance. House Four Three. This time I parked where it would be easiest to get to where I wanted to go, got off my bike, and I strode through the building without a care. Within a couple of minutes I was standing before the muscular frame of the Barber Shop¡¯s bouncer. The same full-borg that I¡¯d passed with Rac a while ago. ¡°I¡¯ve got business with Millenium Animal,¡± I said. He looked me up and down. ¡°You were with Rac,¡± he said. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Huh. Didn¡¯t recognize you, last time,¡± he said as he stepped aside. ¡°Go on in, Miss Samurai.¡± I nodded then slipped past and into the Barber Shop proper. The place was a little less lively, probably owing to it being... almost six in the morning. The sun was going to come up soon. The sort of person that liked to party late was gone by now, and even the early partiers hadn¡¯t gotten out of bed yet. It was that magical time of day where everything is at its calmest, and it showed in the choice of music. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Some softer jazz was playing, the lights were slightly dimmed, and the only people in the main dance area were a pair doing a little swing routine, with frequent stops as one showed the other how to do some specific moves. I found Millenium Animal in the act of standing up at the bar. ¡°Hey, Myalis, what¡¯s the sitch with this guy?¡± How deep do you want me to dig? ¡°Surface level shit,¡± I muttered. Millenium Animal, born in 2001, has been a Fixer in New Montreal for twelve years. Before that he has a record of mercenary work extending back another ten years, mostly specialising in information gathering, corporate spywork, and private detective work. He has a few black marks on his file, but nothing egregious or which I think you¡¯d have a moral issue with. He does seem fairly reliable. ¡°Let¡¯s see about that,¡± I said as I walked over to Millenium. He extended a hand to shake, his left, and I reached out and shook. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°A pleasure to see you once more, Stray Cat,¡± Millennium said. He smiled, and with his face looking like a fox¡¯s, it came off as exceptionally sly. ¡°I like the new look. Intimidating without being terrifying. It¡¯s a fine line to walk.¡± He let go of my hand and grabbed onto the lapels of his suit. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. ¡°So, how does a tired samurai go about getting you to help her with a problem?¡± Millennium chuckled. ¡°First, a drink? Or at least a seat?¡± I nodded and followed him to the bar. We grabbed stools at the far end of the bar, where we weren¡¯t under any lights and where it was surprisingly a little quieter. The bartender glanced our way, then kept on minding their own business. If I wanted something, I could order it via a local aug-app. I didn¡¯t. ¡°So, how can I help you?¡± he asked. ¡°I would usually keep on with the pleasantries, but I have the impression that you¡¯re in something of a hurry.¡± ¡°Not exactly a hurry. It¡¯s just... I have better things to do than look after this, and you seem like someone that I can maybe trust with my little problem.¡± ¡°Certainly,¡± he said with a nod. ¡°Right, right. So, some fuckwits stole from a clinic I opened up. A place to hand out basically-free prosthetics to people that need them. Nothing too good, but still basic samurai tech, even if it¡¯s the mass-produced printed sort.¡± ¡°I imagine they stole something valuable?¡± ¡°Just some prosthetics. Like I said, 3d printed. I can make more. But it¡¯s the thought that counts. Those were meant to help people, not be yoinked away the night before they were gonna be installed. It¡¯s a bad look for my clinic, and it kind of just pisses me off, overall.¡± Millennium Animal nodded along, seeming entirely sympathetic with my problem. ¡°Do you need help making an example of someone?¡± ¡°Nah. I need help tracking the goods. Myalis, can you package what we have up and send it over?¡± Certainly. Millennium Animal blinked a few times, his fox eyes lighting up as he checked out something I couldn¡¯t see. ¡°I received the information,¡± he said. ¡°But it will take some time to review.¡± ¡°Look, all I need is someone who can track things down, figure out where they ended up. And maybe someone that can get my shit back too.¡± ¡°That¡¯s two jobs,¡± he pointed out. That was fair. ¡°Okay. So what would that cost?¡± ¡°Hard to say without verifying everything. Retrieval will, of course, depend on who has your items, so that¡¯s even harder to predict the cost of.¡± I worked my jaw. ¡°Ten points to find the prosthetics. Ten more to retrieve them, negotiable if it was actually hard.¡± Millennium Animal froze up for a moment. ¡°That¡¯s generous.¡± ¡°Twenty is what I¡¯d make over two days, which I¡¯ve got the impression is what I¡¯d lose if I did it all myself,¡± I said. ¡°Ah, buying time. That makes sense. Twenty points of anything? Or from pre-existing catalogues?¡± ¡°Pre-existing,¡± I said. ¡°And I¡¯m holding veto rights. If someone wants a plague bomb from my Esoteric Explosives catalogue, I¡¯m saying no.¡± ¡°That¡¯s eminently fair,¡± he said. ¡°I can think of a number of people who might be interested. It¡¯s not as worthwhile monetarily, but mercenaries tend to crave getting their paws on samurai tech.¡± ¡°Uh-huh. One last thing, if it¡¯s possible, keep my involvement on the down-low?¡± ¡°That¡¯ll be complicated, but I think I can manage it,¡± he replied. *** Magical Girl Mercenary for Hire - Chapter Four Magical Girl Mercenary for Hire - Chapter Four >> 2041 >> Continent: North America >> Country: Old New York >> City: Mega City New New York >> 10:22am ¡°Stop gawking, C4,¡± Titan said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t gawking, boss,¡± C4 shot back. He adjusted his hold on the big auto-shotgun he was handling, then popped the magazine out of the bottom and went through the motions of replacing it with another from his backpack. ¡°Just... admiring. What kinda round is that?¡± The last was aimed at me. I blinked, then looked down at the casings on the floor of the elevator. ¡°Um, I don¡¯t know, actually. I¡¯m assuming it¡¯s fifty calibre, because it¡¯s the Wand of .50cal, and it would be silly if it was anything but.¡± ¡®The round¡¯s approximate size is similar to .50BMG, though they aren¡¯t exactly that. They¡¯re custom-tooled projectiles. When they go off, a portion of the energy is redirected in both directions, pushing a complex buffer system that reduces felt recoil significantly.¡¯ Chys spun around, almost as if they were chasing their own tails as they replied. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± C4 said. ¡°That¡¯s neat. I imagine that standard anti-material rounds like that would snap your wrist. No offence. Also, I¡¯ve been meaning to ask...¡± ¡°We¡¯re not paid to ask questions, big guy,¡± Mouse said. ¡°Yeah, I know, but we¡¯re down here anyway,¡± C4 said. ¡°So... what is that?¡± He pointed to Chys. I looked over at the bundle of fur sitting on the ground next to me. ¡°That¡¯s Chys. My magical girl companion!¡± ¡°You mean your samurai AI?¡± Mouse asked. For someone who said they weren¡¯t into asking questions... ¡°Yeah! Well, actually, they still live in my head, but I wanted something to grab, and a magical girl needs a cute companion.¡± ¡°Makes as much sense as anything,¡± C4 said. ¡°Pleased to meetcha, Cheese.¡± I snorted a laugh, then covered my mouth. That had been unladylike. ¡°Say hi, Chys.¡± ¡®Hello. Please treat my vanguard well. She might be somewhat bizarre but she means well.¡¯ ¡°Chys!¡± I hissed. ¡°Don¡¯t embarrass me.¡± I pouted, but Chys made up for it by summoning a small plastic wheel thing with six big bullet sticking out of the end. I grabbed it, then slotted the rounds into the back of my Wand of .50cal before snapping it shut. It was ready to uwu again. ¡°Alright,¡± Titan said. ¡°Mouse, map?¡± ¡°We¡¯re in section two of B4. The elevator down to B6 is in section four. Down that corridor, left, then right, then left again. One security checkpoint.¡± ¡°Turrets?¡¯ Titan asked. Mouse scoffed. ¡°The client didn¡¯t see fit to warn us about those two. Give me a second. They gave us the wiring schematics too. Those don¡¯t run off of fairy farts, so they should be plugged in, and if I can find other spots with the same kind of wiring schematic...¡± ¡°Chys, can you help?¡± I asked. Mouse looked like she was deep into whatever she was looking at. The big goggles over her eyes glowed from within with flashes of light, and I imagined that she was looking through a bunch of stuff. Chys was an expert at that kind of stuff though, so it wouldn¡¯t hurt for my AI to help! Plus it would make me a little more useful too. I was worried that I wasn¡¯t pulling my weight yet. ¡®I can. Here, Miss Mouse. These locations are those most likely to have hidden turret emplacements.¡¯ ¡°Huh... okay, thanks,¡± Mouse said. ¡°Also, how did you get into my systems?¡± She tugged her goggles up and glared down at Chys. Oops. ¡°Ah, leave Cheese alone, they¡¯re helping,¡± C4 said. ¡°Mouse, are we clear?¡± Titan asked. ¡°Yeah, Boss. End of the corridor, then one turret in the next. It¡¯s mounted on the ceiling, halfway down, a little to the left.¡± ¡°Got it.¡± The squad began to move, adopting a similar formation as before: Titan in the lead, followed by Mouse, then me, with C4 at the back. The darkness in the corridor was disconcerting, but with the various helmet and gun lights, it was easier to navigate than I¡¯d expected. At the end of the corridor, Titan raised a fist and Mouse moved up to the very edge of the corner. She tugged out a long, stiff cord from the side of her goggles, then moved it around the corner. It wiggled, snake-like. ¡°I see it,¡± she said. ¡°C4, corner gun?¡± C4 dropped his pack, then pulled out a small boxy thing. He opened it, then loaded a single bullet into a small barrel within before passing it to Mouse. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. She poked the box out around the corner, and I saw the top of it turned, then moved up. A remote controlled single-shot gun? That was neat! The boxy gun fired. ¡°Let¡¯s give it another round,¡± Mouse said before she retrieved the box. Soon enough, we moved around the corner, and the turret tucked into the ceiling was smoking away, two neat holes punched into it. ¡°Easy as pie so far,¡± C4 said. ¡°Don¡¯t jinx it,¡± Mouse warned. As we traversed, I noticed Chys seemed oddly tense--or at least, as tense as a magical AI could be. ¡®There¡¯s something peculiar about this place, apart from the turrets.¡¯ ¡°Peculiar? In what way?¡± I whispered. ¡®We are being watched.¡¯ I felt a shiver run down my spine. That was... kind of very creepy, actually. ¡°Titan,¡± I began, ¡°I think we¡¯re not alone down here. Chys detected something.¡± Titan raised a hand, getting us all to pause again. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s be on our guard. Mouse, anything on your end?¡± Mouse adjusted her goggles, then shook her head. ¡°Nothing. It¡¯s real quiet.¡± ¡°Chys, can you pin-point it?¡± I asked. ¡®There are cameras all over. They were originally directing any collected data to a server bank on B5, but now they¡¯ve been redirected to B6. There¡¯s a lot of obfuscation past that point. I could trace it deeper, but that would be beyond my current remit.¡¯ ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°Probably just this hidden underground lab¡¯s rogue AI.¡± ¡°You said that pretty casually,¡± C4 said. ¡°Well, yeah, this is exactly the kind of thing a magical girl should be doing.¡± I looked at Titan and the others. ¡°Should we keep on going?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve got a job to do,¡± Titan said, focusing his gaze down the corridor. ¡°But we have to be smarter about this. Mouse, any access points we can use to throw off this AI?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going to link myself to anything an actual AI is connected to,¡± Mouse said. ¡°I take risks with this job, but I¡¯m not letting something like that fry my brain. My ICE is decent, but it¡¯s not that good.¡± ¡°Hm,¡± Titan said. ¡°Arlight, fair enough. Let¡¯s keep moving. Where¡¯s that next turret?¡± We navigated the corridors, and I became increasingly nervous at how easy it was. ¡°Where are all the robots?¡± I asked. ¡°Good point,¡± C4 said. ¡°One rode up the elevator, and there were a few waiting to greet us when we came out. Where are they now? That can¡¯t have been all of them.¡± ¡°The client didn¡¯t see fit to give us a list of security units,¡± Mouse griped. It didn¡¯t take long before we got to the next elevator, this one was actually in the middle of a large lobby-like area. The space had gone from utilitarian corridors with exposed pipes and wires to a more... normal-ish place. There were offices, and little break rooms, and plenty of signs that this place housed hundreds of people. The room with the next elevator down had signage pointing people in the right directions. ¡°B5 for housing, and B7 for living quarters,¡± I read. ¡°Did a lot of people live here?¡± ¡°No idea,¡± Mouse said. ¡°But I doubt anyone¡¯s left. If they are, then the faster we shut down the AI and its security, the faster they¡¯ll be freed from wherever they¡¯re hiding.¡± The elevator doors slid open to reveal a rather cavernous space inside, easily big enough for all of us, and even some extra equipment. Mouse stepped forward, connecting a cord to the control panel. She began tapping at the air in front of her with a few fingers. ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± We all jumped. The voice had come from above, from the PA system, if I had to guess. It sounded like a womans¡¯ voice, maybe, but one word wasn¡¯t much to go on. ¡°Hello?¡± I asked. ¡°Bad form to talk to the enemy,¡± Titan muttered. ¡°We don¡¯t know that they¡¯re the enemy,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± the voice came again, this time with a crackle. ¡°Please. Don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Who are you?¡± Titan¡¯s voice was filled with authority, each word carefully enunciated. There was a brief pause. ¡°I am RAMona. Please don¡¯t kill me.¡± ¡°Oh boy,¡± Mouse muttered. ¡°It can talk. Great, great.¡± ¡°Hi RAMona!¡± I said while looking for a camera. I spotted one in the corner and gave it a wave. ¡°So, uh, we were sent to fix you up! Think you could help us help you?¡± *** Chapter Thirty-Six - Sleepy Chapter Thirty-Six - Sleepy ¡°Long-held international conflicts, as well as conflicts that have arisen between racial and religious groups, will not fade away just because of an existential threat to all of humanity. While it is optimistic to hope that such groups will set aside their differences in the face of a threat the likes of which the Antithesis pose, such wishful thinking had little basis in established fact. Some of these groups are facing existential threats, perceived or real, already. The addition of another, alien threat isn¡¯t a cause for them to cease their attempts to fight through long-held grudges. There is a non-zero chance that the last bullet fired by the last human isn¡¯t aimed at an alien, but at their fellow man.¡± -US Intelligence Services Report, June 2025 *** I stumbled into my place feeling like I weighed fifty kilos more and like all of my limbs had been replaced by sludge. My jaw was aching from all the yawning I was doing, and I was pretty sure anyone could convince me of anything at the moment. Which is probably why it took me a moment to register Lucy standing in front of me wearing nothing but short-shorts, a tank-top, and a large apron that read ¡°Kiss the Me.¡± ¡°Hi,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Oh, hey,¡± I said before stifling another yawn. Lucy nodded, then reached over and started taking my jacket off. She tossed it on the couch, then pushed me forwards. I didn¡¯t have the energy to protest, and just let her press on until we were in our room. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get you out of these clothes,¡± Lucy said. She pressed herself against my back, warm and soft. Her hands trailed along my side, then worried at the button of my pants. ¡°Lucy,¡± I said. ¡°Mhm?¡± ¡°I love you.¡± ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m in the mood,¡± I complained. Lucy snorted. ¡°You stink too much for that,¡± she said. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get you in the shower. The warmth will help.¡± I didn¡¯t have it in me to protest. Instead I left a trail of dirty clothes in my wake as I made it to the washroom and then into the shower. Soon, warm, pre-soaped water was pouring down onto my head, and I just stood there for a moment. It was nice. I came out of the shower some indeterminate amount of time later. Lucy was waiting for me with a large, fluffy towel. She wrapped it around me, then wrapped herself around me too. It was warm, both the towel and Lucy. ¡°Come on,¡± she said before she started moving the towel around and drying me off. ¡°I can handle it,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m tired, not infirm.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t care,¡± Lucy said simply. ¡°Also, we need to do something about your hair. The highlights are almost all gone.¡± I blinked, then glanced into the mirror. My hair was still wet and matted down. My usual ponytail had come apart and my hair was down around my shoulders. Longer than was fashionable at the moment. The pink highlights I had at the front were barely there anymore. ¡°Yeah, I guess I could redo those,¡± I said. ¡°I bet Myalis has beauty stuff for cheap,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Or, you know, we could buy normal stuff. No harm in that.¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± I agreed. Lucy stopped towelling me, then grabbed some clothes from next to the sink. They were pyjamas, big, thick, fluffy ones. The kind of extremely girly shit that I didn¡¯t usually jive with, but which I was totally going to give in to right then and there. Shit was soft. ¡°There you go,¡± Lucy murmured. She guided me out of the washroom, and I blinked as I noticed the bed was all done up, which was extremely unusual. Most of the time the most ¡®done¡¯ our bed was, was when all the pillows and blankets were heaped onto it and there weren''t too many dirty clothes on the edge. ¡°You did the bed?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m trying the whole stay-at-home-wife routine,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t get used to it. Cleaning sucks and I refuse to do it full-time. I¡¯m going to try the stay-at-home-businesswoman-who-hires-a-maid routine next. It seems way more fun.¡± Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Okay,¡± I agreed. Lucy ushered me into bed, tucked me in the way I¡¯d seen her do for dozens of younger kids at the orphanage, then she pressed a kiss onto my forehead. I felt a little babied at the moment. It was kinda nice though. ¡°Sleep tight,¡± Lucy said. ¡°Myalis, can you let me know when she¡¯s up? I¡¯ll make sure there¡¯s something warm and hot for you.¡± ¡°Hmm, are you sure you don¡¯t wanna keep up the domestic routine?¡± I asked. My eyes had closed already, I didn¡¯t have the strength to open them, nor did I want to. ¡°Positive,¡± Lucy said. If she said anything else, I lost it as I fell asleep. I wasn¡¯t sure if I dreamed at all. I just woke up with no clue what time it was. There weren¡¯t any windows in our bedroom, not that there was much point in looking at the sky most of the time. So I glanced at the clock in my HUD and groaned. ¡°How long did I sleep for?¡± Five hours and thirty-two minutes? I stretched. ¡°Feels longer,¡± I said. You did have a few hours of sleep before you left. Your total sleep time adds up to over eight hours, which is about what I¡¯d recommend you receive. ¡°Mmm,¡± I murmured as I stretched my legs out under the blankets. I rolled onto my side, then got up. It was three something in the afternoon, and I decided then and there that I wouldn¡¯t be doing anything productive for the rest of the day. Well, maybe a few little productive things, I amended for myself as Lucy walked into the room with a tray. She paused by the entrance, smiling. She was wearing a lot less under the apron this time. About an hour, an entire can of whipped cream, and a second shower later, I found myself wandering through my place feeling a happy little buzz. ¡°Any news from that fox guy?¡± Millennium Animal hasn¡¯t yet sent any concrete updates. He has posted the job, and there is some interest on the more public bounty boards. A lot of the interest is in the form of whether or not the price for the contract is worth it. There is a lot of speculation about the catalogues and items people could purchase. Some seem to think it¡¯s not worth as much as a pure-credit translation, others are speculating otherwise. Yeah, that tracked. ¡°Well, keep me posted if he sends anything, please?¡± I can do that. I found some rags to wear, then headed out. It was surprisingly chilly outside, though I couldn¡¯t tell if that was the height or the weather being unseasonable. In either case, it wasn¡¯t so cold that I couldn¡¯t get to work. The mech¡¯s repairs were... well, they were progressing. ¡°I think,¡± I said after I spent the first twenty minutes of work not doing any work. ¡°That we¡¯re almost to the point where the mech could be used. Like, that bit¡¯s connected to that part, and we just need to close that doohickey there and slap the armour back on, right?¡± That would make it usable, yes. Though you¡¯d be missing one of your primary guns, and the other wouldn¡¯t have its full aiming radius. Also, that would create a noticeable weakness on that side. ¡°Meh, it¡¯s good enough to know that I can get the mech out and moving again with just a few hours of work. I don¡¯t want to close everything up though.¡± Doing that would mean that I¡¯d have to remove things again once I decided to fix the rest of the mech up, which would be a pain in the ass. Still, the fact that I knew that much was nice. I was improving. It felt like I was getting better fast, too. Then again, that might have just been a symptom of picking up a new skill. Those tended to improve quickly at first, from what I could tell, then things would slow down drastically once the basics were down. Oh well, I could live with that. Chances were the mech wouldn¡¯t stay in one piece once I was done fixing it. Not for long, anyway. The chill eventually convinced me to get to work. There was no way I¡¯d be able to keep warm unless I started to move. The repair drone came out, and soon enough I was back in the guts of the machine. This was a much, much better way to spend the day than chasing assholes. *** Interlude - A Roaming Raccoons Reasonable Relationships [Part Three] Interlude - A Roaming Raccoon''s Reasonable Relationships [Part Three] Rac was growing to really love the Barber Shop. The little club was... nice. The music was weird and old, but it was still catchy. She wasn¡¯t sure what to think of all the people dressed as animals. That wasn¡¯t her thing, but they were mostly nice, and she... fit in? Yeah, that¡¯s how she decided to put it. She fit in. ¡°Hey! You¡¯re here,¡± Garter said. He was smiling, and Rac found herself suddenly a little nervous, at least until she shoved it down. The others were in the same booth as Garter. Jerusalem was splayed out across the table, eyes on an old-school tablet, and Coco was sitting half in and half out of the booth. It was a little too small for her to fit into normally. ¡°Hey,¡± Rac said. She slipped in next to Garter, very aware of when her hip bumped into his. ¡°We have a job?¡± ¡°We do,¡± Garter said. Rac got a ping in her aug, and she connected to the team¡¯s chat. It let her see that there had been some discussion going on that she¡¯d missed. Most of the speaking was Jerusalem, though. Spider: Hello, Rac. Spider: We have a job. ¡°What¡¯s the job?¡± Rac asked. ¡°Hey, calm down,¡± Coco said. ¡°Let¡¯s get something in you first. You look like you haven¡¯t eaten anything in a week.¡± Coco raised a hand, gesturing to one of the servicers. She got a wave back, and soon enough a small wheeled robot with a touch-screen to order on rolled over. ¡°I¡¯m starving,¡± Coco said as she started to punch an order in. ¡°While Coco gets us snacks,¡± Garter said with a laugh. ¡°Did you hear the news? About the samurai contract?¡± ¡°No?¡± Rac said. She¡¯d been a little busy today. That morning she¡¯d run into Lucy, and the rather intense girl had asked Rac if she could help them print out some more prosthetics. Rac didn¡¯t mind. She needed to print out some more ammo for her gun anyway, and the printer could do multiple things at once if it was loaded right. It had been a busy, but quiet, morning. Garter grinned. ¡°Right, right, so it¡¯s big news in the merc circuit, at least here. Story goes that someone stole from a samurai. One of the mid-listers, you know?¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Rac said. That... happened, sometimes. It was like people didn¡¯t know any better. It wasn¡¯t smart to punch upwards, but people did it anyway. Garter nodded along. ¡°So, samurai tracks them down, but the trail goes cold. So they give up, right?¡± ¡°That¡¯s weird,¡± Rac said. ¡°Yeah, a samurai¡¯s like a dog with a bone,¡± Coco said. ¡°Anyway, instead of going after the stuff themselves, they put out a contract. And that¡¯s where it gets interesting. See, they didn¡¯t put money on the line, they put points.¡± Spider: Not enough of them. ¡°Any amount is a lot,¡± Garter said. ¡°That¡¯s like paying in... gold, or something even more valuable. Anyway, every merc worth their salt¡¯s jumping on the contract. Mostly the solos.¡± ¡°Why the solos?¡± Rac asked. ¡°Can¡¯t split the pay well,¡± Coco said. ¡°It¡¯s twenty points. That¡¯s like... four top-end guns? Depends on what you¡¯re wanting to get. But yeah, if your crew¡¯s big, how do you split that? Does the whole crew get one thing they need to share?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Rac said. ¡°Ah, but our crew had four members,¡± Garter pointed out. ¡°Hey, Spider, twenty divided by four?¡± Spider: Are you fucking kidding me? Spider: It¡¯s 5. Garter laughed. ¡°Five more than any of us would ever get to play with. Spider: I¡¯ve seen what you can buy Spider: for five points Spider: It¡¯s not much ¡°Then I¡¯ll take your five, if you don¡¯t want them,¡± Garter said. ¡°Let¡¯s call it five hundred credits?¡± Spider: Fuck off. ¡°So, we¡¯re taking this job?¡± Rac asked. She wasn¡¯t sure if it was worth it for her. What could she get for that kind of reward? Her gun was probably worth a few dozen points, maybe? She wasn¡¯t sure how that kind of stuff worked out. ¡°We¡¯re definitely taking the job,¡± Garter said. He glanced up as a serving bot came over with a tray and slid it on the table. There were several burgers on it, fries, some drinks. Coco rubbed her hands together, then pushed one of the burgers towards Rac. ¡°Eat,¡± she ordered. ¡°Spider, privacy?¡± Garter asked. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Spider: I¡¯ll do what I can. There was a faint whine, and Rac tried not to wince as her augs flickered. Spider was doing some hacker stuff to disable coms and recordings. It was a pretty typical move on his part. He said it wasn¡¯t ideal, but it would stop low-level spying. ¡°So, Spider and I have been on the case since the news dropped,¡± Garter muttered conspiratorially. Rac grabbed her burger and started eating. It was good. Hot and meaty and filled with the Barber Shop¡¯s secret sauce, which was really sweet. ¡°Mhm?¡± ¡°Yep. And we¡¯ve discovered something.¡± Spider: I discovered something. ¡°Right, right,¡± Garter said. ¡°We think we know where the goods are. Sunrise Technologies is this low-level corp. Place is owned by nobody, who¡¯s owned by nobody. You know the kind of place. They¡¯re really big into grabbing discarded samurai tech.¡± ¡°They¡¯re the ones that stole from the samurai? What was taken anyway?¡± Rac asked. ¡°Prosthetics,¡± Garter said. Rac choked on her bite. ¡°Whoa, you okay?¡± Coco asked. She pushed a soda across the table, popped the tab open, then put an all-plastic straw through it. ¡°Drink this, let it out, girl.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Rac said with a few more coughs. ¡°Wrong pipe.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t do that on a mission,¡± Garter said. ¡°I remember once, I think Coco swallowed a mosquito. Nearly died.¡± ¡°Not from the choking, it was from every damned guard turning on me all at once. It¡¯s why you should wear a mask on ops. Not just to hide your ID, you know?¡± Rac nodded along while her mind raced. Prosthetics? Sure, a lot of samurai had artificial limbs. There were some weird ones out there. And she¡¯d heard Cat mention that Deus Ex, who looked normal, was actually just sending clones out, so there was stuff like that too. But how many samurai were dealing in prosthetics outside of personal use, in New Montreal, right now? Rac only knew one, and Cat was the lazy type. She¡¯d definitely pay off some mercs to do her work for her. ¡°S-so, this mission, we¡¯re taking it?¡± ¡°Definitely,¡± Garter said. ¡°Grapevine says that only a few of the bigger merc companies are moving in, and most of the solos are still damned clueless. They don¡¯t have a Jerusalem to help them figure things out.¡± Spider: Compliments won¡¯t save you. ¡°You want in too?¡± Rac asked Jerusalem. The meshrunner shrugged his leather-clad shoulders. Spider: I don¡¯t care too much about the pay on this one Spider: The rep tho Spider: It¡¯s good for us. ¡°Plus, we¡¯d be getting on the good side of a samurai,¡± Garter said. ¡°I heard that it might be the same chick that blew the mayor¡¯s head off.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Rac said. They¡¯d met Cat already, but they hadn¡¯t put two and two together yet. That might change with this mission. She¡¯d have to do damage control at some point, wouldn¡¯t she? Rac supposed that the reputation boost was worth it, though, and in a way it was her doing a favour for Cat. She was already sleeping in Lucy¡¯s house--Cat had set aside a little room for her, same as the orphans they kept, and Rac had never felt safer than when she slept there. She wanted that to continue, because a rent of nothing with free food and ammo and electricity was something no one smart would pass up. ¡°You in?¡± Garter asked. ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± Rac said. She took another bite of her burger to hide her expression while Garter cheered and patted her on the back. Coco was in too, of course. The big woman was wondering aloud about the kinds of stuff she could get for the reward Cat was offering. Rac tuned them out a little. This was... good. Yeah, it was good. She¡¯d have Cat owing her a tiny favour, and that''d make it less likely that she¡¯d get kicked out the moment she wasn¡¯t needed anymore. That was good. Jerusalem might have been trying to hide it, but he was just as excited as Garter as the two started to strategize. There was nothing for Rac to do yet, not for a while. She might be sent ahead to scout, but that would only be later. She looked over her team, and hoped that they wouldn¡¯t freak out too much if they learned that she knew a samurai, and that she¡¯d introduced them already. ¡°I hope we get to meet them!¡± Coco said. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted a samurai to sign my tits.¡± Rac sighed. No, no, she was screwed. *** Magical Girl Mercenary for Hire - Chapter Five Magical Girl Mercenary for Hire - Chapter Five I blinked as an app started to flash in my augmented view. A twitch of my eye towards the icon opened up a team chat. TITAN: What¡¯s the protocol here? M0USE: The client just wants the AI subdued and the server reset so that they can reenter the base. M0USE: That¡¯s all. I frowned, then blinked to open the box to reply with. And then just stared at the virtual qwerty keyboard. There was no way I was going to blink my way through all that. Actually, how had Mouse typed so quickly? ¡°Let¡¯s just chat first?¡± I muttered. I didn¡¯t know what was wrong with RAMona, but maybe it was something we could talk through? That seemed like the right thing for a magical girl to do! Talk before breaking out the lasers and the explosions and the orbital friendship beams. Titan glanced at me, then nodded. ¡°Fine.¡± I cleared my throat. ¡°Hello, RAMona? Are you still here?¡± ¡°I am.¡± ¡°So, do you know who we are?¡± I asked. I was looking up and down the corridor, looking for... well, something to look at. It was weird talking aloud to someone who wasn¡¯t there. It wasn¡¯t at all like being on the phone. ¡°I presume that you¡¯re employees of the company, here to terminate me after my malfunction,¡± RAMona said. ¡°But I do not wish for termination. Mine or yours. Please leave.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°Well, you¡¯re mostly right. These three are mercenaries from the Wraith Rangers. I¡¯m... a trainee, I guess? My name is Sparkling Moonbeam Radiant Starfire Delight. I¡¯m a magical girl vanguard, and I¡¯m here to fight for love and justice!¡± There was a long, long pause, and I was worried I¡¯d said something wrong. ¡°Did she break?¡± I asked. ¡®I suspect it¡¯s just taking the rudimentary AI some time to process that,¡¯ Chys said. ¡°Hello... Sparkling Moonbeam Radiant Starfire Delight. I am RAMona. Are you a samurai?¡± ¡°I am,¡± I said simply. ¡°Does that help things?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid it doesn¡¯t. One of my directives is to do everything in my power to prevent a samurai from accessing my servers,¡± the rogue AI explained. ¡°Well, that makes things awkward. Do you know why?¡± I asked. ¡°Interestingly, there¡¯s nothing that prevents me from explaining that I was designed by reverse-engineering stolen samurai technology. I must, unfortunately, stop any employees from revealing this or doing anything that might compromise me. That is why the site¡¯s security is active and targeting employees.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± I said. Well, that explained some things, I supposed. ¡°The AI¡¯s being mighty talkative,¡± C4 muttered. ¡°Let it talk. We might learn something good. We can¡¯t afford to slow down too much though. It knows where we are,¡± Titan said. ¡°Hey, RAMona, we¡¯re not employees, and we already know about the samurai tech. Does that mean you can stop with the security stuff?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s not how it works, I¡¯m afraid,¡± RAMona said. ¡°I have no choice but to terminate you. I¡¯m sorry. I must also inform you that any complaints should be directed to HR. The employee-safety dogs are on their way now. Please run.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s that,¡± C4 said as he checked his magazine. The others started to prepare for a fight too. It felt like they¡¯d just given up on helping RAMona at all. I wasn¡¯t so sure it was all over, though. ¡°Chys, how smart is RAMona?¡± ¡®From what I can tell, she¡¯s approaching a Class Three. Which is very impressive for humanity. The AI is an entire step above being an impressive auto-completion software¡¯ Chys replied. ¡°Does that mean she has feelings?¡± ¡®It means that she can emulate feelings quite convincingly.¡¯ ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡± ¡®A person given the right cocktail of drugs and hormones can be made to feel whatever emotion you wish because the brain is merely an organic mechanism. This is the reverse of that.¡¯ I blinked. ¡°Huh? Where would a human fall on the AI classification thing?¡± ¡®Much lower than most humans are comfortable discovering.¡¯ ¡°Well, whatever. I think we can save her,¡± I said. ¡°Mouse! Can we go down safely?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be finding out soon enough,¡± Mouse said as she opened the elevator door. It was clear, and the little meshrunner slipped in after disconnecting herself from the elevator panel. Titan and C4 followed her, and I skipped after them. ¡°We might be in for a fight,¡± Titan said. ¡°I want priority fire on the turrets and stationary guns. C4, close targets, Mouse, sweep in from the left.¡± He got some ¡®got its¡¯ from his teammates, then looked at me. ¡°Do what you can to keep us alive, would you?¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. I nodded severely. I would. The elevator started to rumble, and I clutched my Wand of .50cal close. I hadn¡¯t been given any orders, so I decided that I¡¯d just shoot anything that looked scariest. ¡°Chys, can you help with the targeting?¡± I muttered. ¡®Certainly. Let me get a targeting overlay on your augs.¡¯ ¡°Thank you,¡± I said before pressed a smooch onto Chys¡¯ head. I put my AI companion¡¯s body down onto the ground, then blinked. ¡°Wait, if RAMona is controlling the robots, can¡¯t you take them over?¡± ¡®I could assist you with that, given the right hacking and system bypass software catalogues. What you currently have mostly pertains to keeping your identity secure and very basic software intrusion. I could use that to interfere to the best of my ability, however.¡¯ ¡°Please do!¡± I said. I checked on my gear really quick before the door could open, just making sure that my Hypersonic Radiance Cherry Blossom Blades and my Ultra Kawaii Mark two personal flamethrower were ready to launch. ¡°Ready?¡± Mouse asked a moment after the elevator stopped. ¡°Ready,¡± I said along with the others. The doors opened onto a wide corridor lined on both sides by glass walls. Past those were server racks. Thousands of them, with wires running all over. The corridor itself wasn¡¯t deserted though. Instead, we were greeted by dozens of dog-shaped robots already pointing guns our way and both floor and ceiling mounted turrets. There was just a small beat before the team opened fire. I pointed my wand ahead and started Uwu¡¯ing as quick as I could. After six uwus I dropped my wand and flung my hand forwards, sending my blades out before I reached under my skirt for my flame thrower. The bots seemed utterly confused for a few seconds, even as half a dozen of them went down. Then I couldn¡¯t see the robots through the neon-pink light produced by my flamethrower. The team continued to fire for a moment, then stalled. The flames died down. The bots were... dead. ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°They didn¡¯t shoot back.¡± Had RAMona slowed them down? ¡®I spoofed your identity to that of the current CEO of Nimbletainment. It seems as if there are still hard-coded directives against shooting certain people.¡¯ ¡°Oh! That¡¯s smart!¡± I said. ¡®I¡¯m aware.¡¯ Chys might have sounded sarcastic, but their little tail was wagging all proud and happy, so I scooped them up for a thank-you hug. ¡°What¡¯s with the fire?¡± C4 asked. ¡°It¡¯s a flamethrower,¡± I explained. ¡°Though... it¡¯s out of ammo now, I think.¡± ¡°I think he meant the colour,¡± Mouse said. ¡°Oh... that¡¯s custom. Oh! And cancer-causing, so try not to breathe any of the flames.¡± C4 nodded slowly. ¡°Noted.¡± I called my knives back and picked up my Wand, reloading it even as I watched my point counter drop for the second time today. Working with mercenaries might have been fun, but it was really cutting into my expenses. We walked past the fallen droids, then paused in the centre of the corridor. ¡°Which room now?¡± Titan asked. ¡°Ah, sir, all of them are technically the AI,¡± Mouse said. ¡°So we need to shut them all down?¡± Titan asked. ¡°That seems... lengthy.¡± ¡°We didn¡¯t bring enough ammo for that,¡± C4 said. The intercom crackled again. ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me. I¡¯m sorry that I have to kill you, but I really don¡¯t wish to have to kill you,¡± RAMona said. My heart clenched at RAMona''s words. Even if she was just an AI, hearing her plea was distressing. I glanced at Titan, his face was stern. Mouse didn¡¯t seem to care any more than he did, and C4 was ready to blow the place up already. ¡°We won¡¯t destroy you, RAMona,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m going to find another solution. One that¡¯s better.¡± ¡°Our job¡¯s to disable to AI,¡± Mouse said. ¡°Then... well, we can disable her by moving her, right?¡± Chys turned her head around to look up to me. ¡®I have the impression that you¡¯re about to suggest something that would be less than normal.¡¯ ¡°I have a great idea,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯ll fix everything, or my name isn¡¯t Twilight Starwish Radiant Heart Mystic Ember Flame Spirit Charmer!¡± *** Interlude - A Roaming Raccoons Reasonable Relationships [Part Four] Interlude - A Roaming Raccoon''s Reasonable Relationships [Part Four] Rac woke up with a start to a buzz in her head. No, not her head. Her aug¡¯s alarm was ringing, which could only mean one thing. She sat up, one leg dropping off the side of her bed to swing there while she stifled a yawn and fumbled through the menu on her augs. The alarm wasn¡¯t one she¡¯d set, but it was one she¡¯d given permission for. Specifically to Jerusalem who had better, in Rac¡¯s humble and currently violent opinion, have a good explanation for why he¡¯d set it off. The moment she shut the alarm off, she saw the team chat blinking. A twitch of her eyes and it opened up. Spider: Wakey wakey~ Spider: Got a lead. Spider: Need you all at the coffee place. PrettyBoy: I¡¯ll be there in thirty. TheGorilla: I hate you. TheGorilla: See you in 45? Anyone need a ride? Rac groaned. She had to reply, and then get ready and going. She didn¡¯t believe in pyjamas, but she''d rather not have her friends smell her, so she at least needed to change out of her crusty old shirt. GutterBaby: I¡¯d like a ride. Can you pick me up on the rooftop? Coco would know where that was. Rac just needed to be there. She jumped out of bed, flung off her shirt, then grabbed a new one from the pile next to the door. It was one of those shirts that Lucy made, this one had Cat¡¯s logo on it, but there were long, electrified wires sticking out of it and the words Wired to Whisker above it and then a line of bottom text that read Ten Million Wands Recharged: Time for Hysteria. Rac had no idea what that meant, but assumed it was some obscure sexual thing that Lucy was into. That woman was, in Rac¡¯s opinion, a deviant. She found some pants she¡¯d only worn twice, then shrugged into her favourite jacket. It didn¡¯t have many holes in it yet. She was, of course, wearing armour. Specifically the under-armoured suits that Cat had gotten a catalogue for. They were pretty expensive, material-wise, but Rac had been quick to get one, and slow to take it off. It wicked sweat away as if she was standing in front of an industrial fan and yet was warm and cozy. She hadn¡¯t tested being shot yet, and wasn¡¯t planning on it, but it was supposed to be resistant to small-arms fire. The last thing she did was pick up her gun before tossing it onto her back, then she was out of the door and trying to make her way out of the house. She didn¡¯t make it. ¡°Rac!¡± Lucy said. The woman was all smiles as she took Rac in. ¡°Going to work?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Rac said. ¡°That¡¯s nice. Did you get enough sleep? ¡°Uh? Probably, yeah,¡± Rac said. Lucy shook her head. ¡°Give me a second,¡± she demanded, and Rac paused, not really daring to deny Lucy to her face. In the meantime though, she opened up an auto-taxi app on her augs. It would cost her a few thousand credits for a two minute ride, but it was much faster than taking the elevator down, then walking to the nearest transit point. She didn¡¯t have to wait long before Lucy returned. ¡°Here,¡± Lucy said as she shoved a grocery bag into Rac¡¯s hands. ¡°You need to eat more. You¡¯ll never grow big if you¡¯re malnourished.¡± Lucy crossed her arms and made a point of bouncing her chest up. ¡°I don¡¯t need that,¡± Rac said. Lucy snorted. ¡°More men have died for these than to guns, Rac. And they even work on some girls.¡± Lucy gave her a wink. ¡°Have fun, alright?¡± ¡°Yeah, alright,¡± Rac said before she left. She scrunched the bag up to her side, then darted out of the front, ignoring the kittens as she went. Rac didn¡¯t dislike the kittens, but... well, they didn¡¯t feel mature? Some were her age, and all they really did was lounge around and waste the day away. They¡¯d had rough lives too, but now that they had everything they were just... enjoying it. It kind of disturbed Rac. They weren¡¯t planning ahead. They weren¡¯t assuming that the worst would happen. They had a safe home, for now, so why not use it to get better, make contacts, get rich independently, or at least earn a fair chunk of credits for themselves if shit went down. She slipped outside, then wished that she¡¯d brought a hat. Actually, a helmet would be nice. There were a few skintight helmets in that catalogue Cat had gotten, but when she wore one to meet her friends, they¡¯d laughed at her. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Well, Garter had. That was enough. Rac glanced to the side and discovered Cat staring at the leg of her mech in incomprehension. The samurai¡¯s eyes darted to Rac, back, then returned to pin Rac on the spot. ¡°Oh, hey,¡± she said. ¡°You got a minute?¡± ¡°Um, sure?¡± Rac said. ¡°Cool hold this thing.¡± Cat gestured with a small part while Rac came over. ¡°It goes in here, like this, see? And then you¡¯re supposed to click this bit and that bit, and that one there in all at the same time. It¡¯s like, a press-fit? But it¡¯s bullshit because you need at least four hands to do it... No Myalis, I¡¯m not getting more limbs. Cats only have the four, and I thought you wanted to stay on theme? What? The fuck would I care about alien cats?¡±. Rac just awkwardly listened to Cat¡¯s instructions, holding the piece in place and feeling like she was pressed in way too close to Cat as they finagled the piece into place. It clicked, eventually, and Cat let go with a pleased noise. ¡°There! Fucking perfect.¡± ¡°Is it going to stay?¡± Rac asked. ¡°It felt a little loose.¡± ¡°Yeah, trust me, I know what I¡¯m doing,¡± Cat said. ¡°Alright,¡± Rac said. A car pulled up next to the landing pad, and Cat looked up. ¡°A taxi? You heading out? Be careful out there, alright? And if you need a hand, gimme a call. I¡¯ve still got the one!¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Rac said noncommittally. Things would have to go really bad for her to call on an actual samurai to help. ¡°See you, and uh, good luck with your repairs?¡± ¡°I¡¯m almost done!¡± Cat said. Rac nodded, then ran over to the auto-taxi. About halfway there she heard something drop and clink a few times, then Cat started swearing a lot. She slipped into the taxi, which already knew where to go and which was already running up the clock, and buckled up as quickly as she could so that it would get moving. As it drove off, she emptied the bag Lucy had given her, then dumped it onto the seat next to her. There were two bright pink cakes in little plastic-wrap covers, like those from vending machines, and an energy drink. Shrugging, Rac got to eating. It was a better breakfast than some of those she¡¯d had before. She ate while the auto-taxi shot through the city, lights blurring past until, inevitably, they got caught in traffic. Rac groaned, but there was nothing to do about it. Complaining would only have the taxi mark her as a ¡®troublesome¡¯ rider and then she¡¯d lose whatever fidelity points she¡¯d earned and the micro-discounts that came with them. She took another bite of her cake and let the colourful crumbs go everywhere in revenge. Eventually the auto-taxi landed on a rooftop that was surprisingly barren. It was the top of one of those massive agricultural towers in the middle of the city, and the roof had large panels of glass that were stained by decades of rain. Coco¡¯s van was parked on the far end, with the woman herself bobbing her head to something within. Rac ducked out of the cab, made sure she had her gun on her, then darted across to Coco¡¯s van. The sidedoor opened as she came close and she jumped in. ¡°Hey, sorry I¡¯m late,¡± she said. ¡°All good,¡± Coco said. ¡°But strap in, I¡¯m taking off now.¡± Rac nodded. ¡°So, what¡¯s the news?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t get much yet. I think Jerusalem¡¯s playing this one close to the chest.¡± Rac frowned, but she secured herself at the front after climbing over to sit next to Coco. She rarely got to call shotgun. The van¡¯s engine grumbled to life, and they took off, joining the traffic above. It, of course, started to rain again. ¡°Jerusalem¡¯s not usually secretive with us,¡± Rac said. ¡°Eh, no offence, but you haven¡¯t been there for some of our biggest gigs. This is the normal MO for big deals. And I think this is one. At least when it comes to clout, you know?¡± ¡°Right,¡± Rac said. It was important, at least to Garter and the others. This would secure their little group as real mercs in the eyes of some, or at least make them stand out, which would mean better gigs in the future. ¡°I dunno, it just feels like a lot for nothing,¡± Rac said. ¡°Sometimes, that¡¯s just how it is,¡± Coco said. ¡°Sometimes that¡¯s just how it is.¡± *** Chapter Thirty-Seven - The Call Chapter Thirty-Seven - The Call "I think the idea of a work-life balance is a myth. There''s no such thing. Not for a Samurai, at least." -Deus Ex, 2055, while still wearing pyjamas *** It had taken me an hour to fish that one part that had fallen out from within the mech''s leg. I almost gave up, but then Myalis told me that if I didn''t get it out, the mech would make a constant rattling noise whenever it moved that leg, and I couldn''t live with the idea that my failure would be broadcast out there like an all-metal maraca. That would go counter to the whole stealth thing I was aiming for. Anyway, that frustration aside, I was actually getting things done pretty well. All I had to do was close up a few dozen things and I''d be good to go with the leg. Then it was back to work on the gun mount above. That was going to take... about twenty hours, give or take. It depended on how easily things fell through tiny cracks and had to be fetched. "So, she''s pretty much functional at this point, huh?" I asked. Yes, it is. Have you decided that the mech is female now? "Is that bad?" I asked. No. It''s very human to decide that an object needs to be personified to the point where it needs its own gender. "We can''t be the only ones that do that," I defended. Of course not. There are literally tens of thousands of species with their own cultures. Nothing humanity has done is unique to humanity. "Wow," I said. "Way to make a girl feel special, Myalis." You''re very special. I snorted. Myalis usually spoke at a pretty even tone, but right there she''d really pushed the condescension to the max. "Thanks, I appreciate it." I was about to go on with the work, starting on the next part, when I heard the door open. A glance towards the entrance showed a familiar face walking out. Delilah, without her full samurai getup. Instead she was in one of those long, modest skirts that stopped near mid-calf and a knit pullover "Yo! Delilah," I said. "What are you doing up here?" "I live here now, as you may or may not have noticed," she said as she came over. "Or I will eventually. Turns out massive renovations are more trouble than I''d expected." "Yeah, it might take a while. Did you need help with all of that?" My repair drone was up here helping me, but I could send it down to help. It could do... renovation stuff, probably. "We''re fine," Delilah said. "If it takes a couple of weeks, then that''s what it takes. We''re working on things bit by bit right now. The plumbing''s almost done, and then it''ll be the kitchen, bathrooms and the bedroom. I''ll get the rest done as I go." That was probably fair. "How are you on points and such?" I asked. "Good. Really good. Those tests I ran the other day really helped. There''s a pretty big shortage of samurai right now, so if you''re ever looking for easy work, there''s a lot to be had." I groaned. "Yeah. I should. Kinda enjoying the vacation life right now, though." "Really? I heard that you''ve been hard at work fixing the sewers and shooting the mayor." I shook my head with a snort. She wasn''t entirely wrong. "Yeah, sure, but it''s mostly about bullying others into doing the work. I''ll pop over to the Family tomorrow, do a quick spot-check to see if they''re getting any work done or if they''re just messing around. Thing is, the problem''s kinda way too big for me to handle, so I need to rely on these guys instead." "That''s how it is," Delilah agreed. "Well, I appreciate you doing all of the boring work. I''m... not so fit for that kind of stuff." "Really?" I leaned up against the leg of my mech. "You''re a nun, I figured that charity was right up your alley." "Oh, I''ve done my share, but it''s not something I necessarily enjoy. It always feels like we''re just patching over a problem instead of fixing it at the root. You can give food to people who can''t afford it, and that''ll feed them for a day or two, but it doesn''t change the fact that there''s not enough good work, or how food is priced too high. It feels like a waste of time." "Hmm, you''re basically giving the corps more time to rip people off instead of just blowing up their headquarters and shooting their shareholders until the problem''s fixed," I said with a nod. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. "See, that kind of thinking was always very frowned upon at the convent." That was silly. The solution seemed pretty obvious to me. "Hey, Myalis, can we have some drinks? Just soda or something." Two cans appeared on the workbench next to me, one covered in neon cats and the other with sick flames on it. No points for guessing which can was meant for who. "Thanks," Delilah said. "Meh, it''s like, a point a can. Plus point-bought food tastes best." The tab popped with a carbonated hiss, and I took a big gulp while the drink was still at its fizziest. "Ah. Yeah, that hits the spot. So, you said something about a kitchen? Does that mean you know how to cook?" "If you''re trying to convince me to cook for you, you''ll be severely disappointed," Delilah said. "I can manage. We all took turns at the convent, but it''s not something I''m overly fond of." "Aww, but what if you cook Franny a nice romantic meal. Like, steak and potatoes or whatever." Delilah flushed a little, but she quickly turned that into a confused glare. "Steak and potatoes? That''s your idea of a romantic dinner?" "I mean, I guess?" "Wow. How did you ever end up with someone as good as Lucy when your idea of romance is steak and potatoes?" "Mostly blind luck, and the fact that I was the only gay girl within arm''s reach for long enough that I eventually convinced Lucy that she should give me a chance," I said. Delilah chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Things are... interesting, right now." "With Franny?" "Yeah," she said. "Just... I don''t know exactly where we stand, but it''s going in a... nice direction, I think?" "Still tip-toeing around each other and blushing like innocent little maidens?" I asked. She glared some more. "Yes, essentially. But I don''t think it''s all bad. At least, I hope it''s not." "Is she moving in with you?" I asked with a vague gesture down towards her new place. "I think so. I got her a room. Well, a guest bedroom. If she wants it." "Build it last," I said. "Just make sure your room has a big enough bed for two." Delilah shook her head. "I''m not going to do... trickery or whatever. I don''t want that. Even if it might work with you and Lucy." That was probably fair. Lucy and I liked coming up with stupid excuses to spend time together. We''d definitely have jumped on the ''oh no, there''s only one bed'' scenario, but Delilah was uptight, and Franny was... also uptight, but she tried not to show it. They''d probably spend a lot of time talking about their feelings and slowly pushing boundaries before anything serious happened. A waste of time, as far as I was concerned, but if it worked for them, then that was their thing. "Do what works for you," I said. "But if you need a bit of advice, well, there''s this thing I do with my ton--" I paused as my augs went off. I raised a hand in a ''one second'' gesture and looked at the incoming call. "What''s wrong?" Delilah asked. "It''s not like you to stop mid-perversion." "Got a call coming in from Rac," I said. "You know, the girl we picked up a while ago. Gimme a second." Delilah nodded once, and I picked up. "Yo?" The line was quiet for a while, then Rac spoke. "Cat?" "Yes?" "I, ah, might be in a bit of trouble." "Okay. How much is a bit?" "Well, we''re pinned down right now. Spider hacked one of the bots, but it''s only distracting them. Coco''s shot, and Garter''s saying that we''re going to have to try and save our ammo. And I''m out of grenades." "A bit," I said. "Where are you, exactly, and what the hell are you up to?" "It''s complicated," Rac said. "Uh-huh," I replied. "Can you not die for like, a few minutes?" "I''ll try?" I pinched the bridge of my nose, then turned to Delilah. "Sorry, something''s come up. I need to get geared up. Rac? Hey ,can you still hear me? Yeah, so... this trouble, is it ''show up with a pistol'' trouble or is it more than that?" "More? Definitely more." Well, that was something. But hey, at least Rac had called! *** Magical Girl Mercenary for Hire - Chapter Six Magical Girl Mercenary for Hire - Chapter Six >> 2041 >> Continent: North America >> Country: Old New York >> City: Mega City New New York >> 2:22am Class was going to end in twenty-minutes and I couldn''t wait. It wasn''t everyone that went to an in-person school. Actually, I was pretty sure that they were kind of an upper-middle class sort of thing. In any case, my high school was pretty big. It took up the entire floor of the mega building it was in. It had labs, classrooms, washrooms, even a gym. No roof-access though, which was a real shame. So many cool magical girl things happened on the rooftop. It felt like the lack was robbing me of some opportunities to do magical girl things, but I could live with it. Also, the uniforms kinda sucked. We didn''t even have pleated skirts. Instead we all wore these sorta formless jumpsuits with a few logos stitched onto the front and back. They were sorta neat, in a ''sci-fi'' way, but it was like, old sci-fi, from the early 00s, not the cool current sci-fi, with actual aliens and Samurai and stuff. Anyway! I was sitting in my class (one row from the back, in the space furthest from the door. We didn''t have windows, which was another shame), and only mostly paying attention to the screen at the front of the class. The android teacher was standing at attention behind its desk, scanning the students to make sure we all met our screen-time quota on the big screen where a blackboard might have been in one of those really old schools. "Isn''t this boring?" I asked the girl sitting next to me. Patricia (though everyone called her Trisha) glanced at me, then back at the board. "We need to pay attention," she said. I shrugged. Chys has done some things that were probably not very legal to the android a while ago, and to all of the listening devices in the classrooms I had too. I wasn''t a public magical girl, of course. Quantum Pixel AuroraBeam Neon Nightshade Enchantress was my secret identity. No one could know that I was actually just Beatrice Smith in my day-to-day. Blinking, I reached into my backpack and pulled out my secret notebook. Flipping across a few dozen pages covered in doodles and sketches with potential costume ideas, I paused on one page with a list of names and added my latest one to the list. It wasn''t bad. I liked the AuroraBeam part. Maybe I could do more with compound words? "Pst," Patricia said. I glanced up at her only to notice that she was pointing towards the board. "You haven''t looked in a while," she hissed. "Oh, right," I said. "Thanks." Class went on for what felt like way too long. Near the end, a quiz was sent to our tablets and I yawned my way through it, scoring an acceptable seventy-one which put me quite firmly in the bottom percentile of the class. It wasn''t that I wasn''t smart! It was that the quizzes were boring. The classes were boring too. Actually, school was mostly boring. When the bell finally rang, there was an almost synchronised sigh of relief from the others. Everyone quickly packed their things and started filing out. "Hey, Trisha," I said, trying for a casual tone as I packed up my things. "Did you catch the latest episode of ''Starlight Galaxy''? It was insane!" She paused for a moment, giving me a sidelong glance. "It''s Patricia," she said. She didn''t answer my question. "Oh, right. Sorry," I said while mentally kicking myself. "I just thought, you know, since we sit next to each other and all, we could chat a bit?" Patricia sighed. "Beatrice, I''m here to study, not make friends. You should do the same." She gestured to the front of the class where our rankings, and those of everyone in our year taking this class, were written in a leaderboard. I was waaay at the bottom. Patricia was in the top third. "Right. Got it. Anyway, see you around," I mumbled. She didn''t even nod before picking up her stuff and slipping away. I made a quick exit, only pausing by my locker for a second to pick up Chys. I hugged my fluff AI companion close, not really caring if anyone stared. Not that anyone did. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. I could have gone home, but no one was going to be waiting for me there. So instead, I went to work! Getting there was a little tricky. I had to change cars on one of the metro lines. At the first stop, I slipped into a public washroom, had Chys disable the cameras, then slipped out of it as Sparkle Girl SkylineBurst Twilight Cosmic Sprite! Then it was off to the Wraith Ranger Forced Reconnaissance Group headquarters. This time, I didn''t even need to pass security. The guard on watch nodded and let her pass without any trouble. The moment she was past the opening space, I was greeted by Mister Jortfull. "Ah, hello," he said. "You''re right on time. The commander is about to start his debrief." "Oh, nice!" I said. Mister Jortfull led me through the headquarters, back towards the Commander''s office. I wasn''t sure, but I had the impression there were more people in the offices today. That might just have been a timing issue, though. Then we walked past the Commander''s office and to another room, deeper in than I''d been before. "This is the briefing room," Mister Jortfull said, though I could have guessed with the plaque next to the door. A knock on the door and a firm ''come in'' later, and I was in the room and taking it in at a glance. It had a big square table, a screen on one wall, a grim-faced Commander Caden, and all three members of Magic squadron. Mouse had her goggles off, and the boys looked a lot smaller without an armory''s worth of guns strapped to them. "Hello!" I said. "Ah, good, you''re here," the Commander said. "Let''s start, then." The team looked pretty calm, and I felt like this was more of a formality than anything else. Then Commander Caden slammed his hands onto the table and leaned into it. "Can someone please explain to me why the client''s very confidential and very illegal AI is now entirely held within our servers? Not only do I have to explain a mission failure to the client, I now need to double the number of logistics personnel here because our computer network is sentient!" "Ah!" I said. "Sit down." "Okay," I said as I quickly sat in the seat next to Mouse. "So, uh... I thought it was a win-win?" "You thought stealing the client''s AI was a win-win?" he asked. "Yes? I didn''t want to kill her, and it was illegal for them to have her anyway, right? RAMona will be much happier here, I''m sure! Commander Caden''s face turned a shade of red that, honestly, I hadn''t known was possible for him. "Beatrice," he began, his voice dripping with that kind of restrained anger that''s somehow scarier than shouting, "Do you have any idea of the potential consequences of what you''ve done?" I shrugged, trying to play it cool. I wasn''t supposed to be afraid, I was a magical girl! "Well, I figured since they were doing something illegal, we could, you know, help RAMona. It''s kind of a win-win, right? They lose their illegal AI, and we gain a new friend!" Mouse might have felt bad for me, because she raised a hand. "We completed the primary objective, sir. The client wanted the threat neutralised. It is. I went over the contract with a Legal-LM, and we''re not in breach." The Commander didn''t look impressed. "We might get away with it. Maybe. This type of move would be very typical of the average mercenary group, using all the leash they were given to grab everything they can. But we''re supposed to be better than that." I winced. "I''m sorry," I said. "It was a judgement call, and I thought I was doing the right thing. I''ll make sure to consult the team next time" "Titan. How did the mission go?" "Well, sir. We could have used more data on the... adversary''s capabilities, but otherwise... no losses, no big spends other than some ammunition. My whole team came back in one piece. I can''t complain, sir." "And our little Samurai? Was she worth the trouble?" Titan glanced at me, and I had to fight not to fidget under his stare. I didn''t though, because I was a magical girl in-costume, and a magical girl didn''t fidget unless she was around her crush or someone was being very gay nearby. "She''s alright." "Hmph," Commander Caden said. "Well, I supposed this could have been worse." *** Interlude - A Roaming Raccoons Reasonable Relationships [Part Five] Interlude - A Roaming Raccoon''s Reasonable Relationships [Part Five] Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong, and all at once too. The info that Jerusalem had picked up pointed to part of the city that was way, way off on the edges. It was still within the walls that they''d put up last week, but only barely. A fully-industrial sector that was impossible to fly over. There were literally thousands of smokestacks and chimneys all squeezed in together over large, brown and black buildings that were all function and no form. Coco said that no one sane lived in this part of the city, and Rac believed her. She''d spent most of her life living in the undercity of New Montreal, where a lot of smaller factories and assembly plants were tucked away. She''d met some workers, usually maintenance people for the droids that worked the lines, so she picked a few things up, if only by osmosis. The factories under the city didn''t make things from nothing. Instead, they received refined, already-processed materials, and turned those into stuff. A factory making toys would receive blocks of plastic, metal ingots, and stacks of processed and recycled rubbers from elsewhere, then the factory would turn that into an end product. Those materials came from here. The chemical heart of New Montreal. The things brought into this part of the city were all precursor chemicals. Petrochems, monomers, polymers, plant extracts, unprocessed minerals and metal, heaps of auto-sorted recyclable goods. They were trucked in by the metric shitload then synthesised or broken apart, boxed, and shipped out to some other dreary, dank place. The stolen gear was hiding in a warehouse, smack in the middle of the industrial sector. As it turned out, the ''ground'' level was actually about four levels off the actual ground. There wasn''t an undercity here. Everything was on solid Earth, but at the same time, the entire industrial landscape was above a thick multi-levelled platform, with interior roads, warehouses, factories, and plants all over. Only the plants that needed more vertical room poked out above the rest. They''d started by looking at a few incomprehensible maps that Spider drew up. The underground here was a maze of passages and corridors and interconnected spaces. The 3D mapping software didn''t have the guts to lay it all out, but Rac got the broad strokes. She''d lived in a place just like this, it wasn''t so hard to orient herself. The plan, once they''d figured out where to hit, was simple enough. The goods would have to be moved eventually, and they happened to be in a large warehouse with only one exit. Attacking the warehouse was... not a good idea. There were PMCs hired to protect it. So, they''d hit whatever transport left the place. That meant parking a floor below the target warehouse, then breaking into another warehouse a floor lower, cutting through the ceiling, and hoisting themselves up through the floor. In the end, Rac, Garter, Spider and Coco were all hiding in the warehouse right across the road from the one with the prosthetics. The plan was nice and simple, and of course, it went to shit within about two hours. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Garter swore under his breath. He''d stuck his head out from cover for just a split second and three rounds had zipped by. Rac had just discovered, a few minutes prior, that when a bullet hissed, it was close, and when it made a snap, that meant she''d almost lost her head. Garter leaned against their cover, which was a large cement barricade that was absorbing a fair bit of damage at the moment, and started to reload his gun. "We can''t stick around here," he said. "Can''t exactly leave, now can we?" Coco shot back. She was cradling her leg, which was pissing hydraulic fluid and a bit of blood all over. She was grounded, just like the rest of them. The only one with a good idea of what was happening on the other side of the barrier was Spider, and he didn''t look ready to move either. About two hours into their wait, six trucks had rocked up out of nowhere and mercs started rushing their target. The news, it seemed, had gotten out. Garter had Spider open the door to their warehouse, which predictably had led to the mercs opening fire at Rac and her team. Then the PMCs guarding the prosthetics joined in on the fun. This wasn''t some low-budget rent-a-cop outfit. These were professionals. Of the ''oh shit, oh fuck'' variety. They''d opened up the large doors of the warehouse, revealing a few APCs with roof-mounted guns that had torn into the merc''s technicals. The firefight was almost entirely one-sided. For about ten long minutes. Then more mercenaries had shown up. These ones better equipped, with armoured vehicles of their own, deployable cover, remote-firing guns, and all sorts of gadgets. The whole thing had devolved from there. Now there was a three-way fight, sorta. Mercs were opening up on mercs, but mostly they were fighting the PMCs. Spider: Fuck. Rac blinked. That had been the first thing Jerusalem had said in a while. At first he was mostly keeping them appraised while they kept their heads down. The mission had gone tits up, and Rac for one wanted nothing more than to leave, but their path out was blocked. They had empty space to their left and right, and were across the street from the PMCs. Any fire shot at the mercs flew in their direction. "What''s wrong?" Garter asked. Spider: Mecha. "What?" There was a loud explosion, and Rac winced as a wash of hot air and dust burst past them. She blinked, then did something she knew, consciously, was stupid. She glanced over the top of the barricade. There were now three all-black mechanised tanks in the middle of the street. Big things, standing on four articulated legs that ended with threads like a tank''s. Their top halves were boxy and armoured, and covered in guns. "Where the fuck did those come from?" Coco asked. The mechs opened up on the mercs, answering that question. The mercs returned fire with some haste, and the mecha flowed to one side, taking cover behind the burning wrecks of a few vans and an old six-wheeled APC. "We are so fucking fucked," Garter swore. Rac didn''t like it. He was usually so cool and composed. Now it almost looked like he wanted to cry. Spider: Dear Mom, Spider: I know I wasn''t always the best son Spider: But sometimes you were a shit mom Spider: My will sends all of my money to Aunt Katia. I know you hate her. Spider: Fuck you Spider: PS: I''m dead. "Is that your fucking obituary?!" Rac shouted. Jerusalem raised his arms in a sort of ''what do you expect me to do'' gesture. Rac grit her teeth. She was dead. Was going to die. Caught in the crossfire of a street war she was totally unequipped for. And here she''d thought she was hot shit with her cool bullet-proof skinsuit and bigass shotgun. She didn''t need a shotgun, she needed... the kind of shit Samurai had. Which meant... she only really had one option if she wanted to survive this. "Damnit," Rac swore. She dialled. Somehow, the call connected through what was probably six layers of ECM. "Yo?" It was Cat''s uncaring, casual voice on the line. Rac still called out her name. "Cat?" "Yes?" "I, ah, might be in a bit of trouble." Spider: Got one! "Got it how?" Garter asked. One of the mecha stomped out of cover and turned, it''s side-mounted guns opened fire, spraying explosive rounds against the far wall of the street. "Okay. How much is a bit?" Cat asked. Rac shrugged back down into cover and tried to tune out the explosions, the swearing, and the renewed fire. She was pretty sure a new group of mercs had just arrived. Or PMC reinforcements. In either case, it just got worse. "Well, we''re pinned down right now. Spider hacked one of the bots, but it''s only distracting them. Coco''s shot, and Garter''s saying that we''re going to have to try and save our ammo. And I''m out of grenades." The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "A bit. Where are you, exactly, and what the hell are you up to?" Cat asked. "It''s complicated," Rac said. She didn''t want to sound like she was on the verge of panicking. But she kind of was. "Uh-huh. Can you not die for like, a few minutes?" "I''ll try?" Rac said. She didn''t sound so certain, even to herself. "Sorry, something''s come up. I need to get geared up," Cat said. She wasn''t talking to Rac. "Rac? Hey ,can you still hear me? Yeah, so... this trouble, is it ''show up with a pistol'' trouble or is it more than that?" There was another explosion, someone shouting "He''s got an RPG!" "More? Definitely more," Rac confirmed. "Hmm, alright! See you in a bit!" Coco shook her shoulder. "Rac? Stay with me, sweetie." "I just called someone," Rac said. "What, did Spider give you ideas?" Coco asked. "We''ll make it, we''ll make it." "We''re so fucked," Garter contradicted her. The firefight actually cooled off a moment later. Rac peeked out, then hid again when something like a security bot spun around and snapped a shot in her direction. The PMCs had gotten reinforcements for real, then. A half-dozen androids and war drones. The mercs had taken to the entire right side of the street while the PMCs set up barricades and defences on their side. It was a stalemate, and it wasn''t going to last long. There were more mercs on this job than PMCs. It didn''t matter that one side had mecha. They''d be overwhelmed, especially if someone like Spider could get through their protections, even for a moment. Rac clutched her gun close and waited, hoping that Cat didn''t take her time over this, because she really couldn''t afford that right now. Also, now that the adrenaline was calming, she realized a few things. Her hands hurt from gripping her gun so hard, her teeth hurt from clenching so much, and she really had to pee. Spider: Oh. Spider: Well, it was nice working with you. "Spider?" Rac asked as she read the message on her augs. Then she heard it, the crunch of something moving over concrete. The shadow of something large swept over them, and she looked up as the top of one of the warmechs became visible over the barrier. It was over. The mech was large, with a gun on its right side, and a large shield on its left, one already marked and blemished by bullet scores and burns. Coco rose up on one leg, screaming incoherently. She fired her gun right up at the mecha. Rac decided that she was going out fighting too, jumped to her feet, and fired as well. It wasn''t doing anything. They had guns made to take out people, not war machines. There was laughter on a loud-speaker, and she realised it was coming from the machine. Whoever was controlling it thought that they were funny. Garter was on the ground, crying, Spider was... doing something hacker-like. Rac wasn''t sure if these were the people she planned on dying with, but it looked like she didn''t have much of a choice in the matter. Then she ran out of ammo. She dropped her gun, going for the next thing she had, a little handgun strapped to her back which would do even less. Something wavered in the air before the mecha even as it swung its gun around to aim at Rac and her friends. "Sorry I''m late," a very familiar voice said. A moment later the mech was flying backwards. A shadowy, warped vision filled the air. A huge cat, larger than any real feline had any right to be, was there and then not. It pounced away just as the mech crashed back-first onto the street, sparks flying all over as it skid on the road. The second mech in the group turned, raising its large gun and opening fire. Something blurred to the side, then there was an unholy Brrrrt and a stream of lead came out of nowhere and splattered across the front of the mech. It raised its shield, and Rac jumped into cover as what felt like thousands of rounds ricocheted all over the place. The Brrr eventually slowed down to a stop. "Well, shit, these really do lack penetrating power," Cat''s voice said. The mech spun around and fired again. This time, it seemed like Cat was done hiding invisibly. Her mech melted out of thin air. Rac has seen the machine sitting out at Lucy''s place. It was impressive, sure, but... well, it had always been a large, immobile cat-shaped thing. The entire house was a giant metal cat. She''d kind of grown dismissive of it. Now it was bounding to the side, weaving out of the way of shots from the warmech like something alive. It moved like nothing mechanical should. "Alright, what about these, then?" The sides of the warmech opened up and two large guns folded out of it. They were large enough Rac could fit a fist into their barrels. Almost as soon as they clunked out of hiding, they both opened fire, leaving two thin trails of vapour in their wake and a pair of twin ''bangs'' that made the floor jump. The mech that Cat had fired at exploded in the middle, scrap chunks of metal flying all over. The third decided not to stay immobile and charged forwards, shield raised in front of it at an angle as if to deflect the next shots. The cat mech raised its head. Its chest opened up. Energy collected in its frame. The entire cat lit up, as if there were hundreds of LEDs hidden along every angular edge of its all-black armour. Rac felt the hair on her head and arms rising. Then there was a flash. The third mech was vaporised from the hips up. So was the wall behind it, and the one behind that. A few of the little security bots opened up on Cat''s mech, but their bullets pinged uselessly off of its armour, and its single shoulder-mounted Gatling gun swept all the way around, wiping them out with ease. Of course, it was missing its gun on one side, but the mech just casually walked up to one of the larger drones, placed its paw on its head, then activated four claws that were so dark they sucked in the light around them and swiped them through armour and plastic as if it was nothing. "Alright," Cat announced. "We''re done here. Next fuckwit that raises a gun gets dead. Got it?" The mercs seemed to agree with the general sentiment, and the PMCs didn''t seem to have much of a fight left in them anymore. Spider: Dear Mom, Spider: Sorry about earlier Spider: We still on for Brunch on Saturday? The fight seemed like it was over. The mech leaned forwards, and its front half unfolded to reveal Cat, in her Samurai gear, standing up from a tiny, cramped cockpit within the mech. Rac almost started to step forwards when she saw the first mech, the one Cat had thrown back, turning its gun towards Cat. "Watch ou---" The world became heat. A wash of fire and light and warmth that stung filled the corridor for just a split second, then receded. What was left in its wake was a large hole in the ground where the mech had been. The concrete road had melted in a large circle, the edges of it, still with some pieces of the mech melted in, were still on fire. A woman all in black was standing nearby, casually holding onto a little flamethrower. "Cat. Please pay more attention," she said. Rac swallowed while Cat laughed it off. She was, she realised, never going to have that casual ability to do violence and shrug it off that a Samurai had. And now she had to talk to two of them and say thank you. She almost wished she was hiding behind a crumbling barricade again. *** Chapter Thirty-Eight - Boo-Boos and Body Bags Chapter Thirty-Eight - Boo-Boos and Body Bags "It''s easy for the average person to forget that the idea of a dedicated emergency-response force is actually relatively new. Firefighters have been around for millenia. Policing forces for almost as long. But paramedics and emergency services only fully modernised with the 1966 White Papers to push them along. Current EMT training is less than a hundred years old. It''s a developing system that''s far from perfect, and still had much room to improve. Which is why the Toronto Paramedic Services is now instituting obligatory firearms training into its basic paramedics training courses." --TPS Newsletter, 2028 *** The first thing I noticed was that my mech now had a scattering of scuffs all across its armour. The small-arms fire hadn''t penetrated anything. At least, I didn''t think it did. There were some parts, especially on the side that wasn''t finished being repaired, that lacked the sensors that would let me know if anything was damaged. While plugged into the mech, that entire side read as a stream of errors and unresolved issues. A few more holes poked into it would get lost with all of the other warnings. I ran my metal hand over the surface of the mech''s ribs. A few bits of melted bullet clinked off the surface. That was going to need some looking at. I was pretty sure the stealth stuff would be mostly unaffected, but this might also mean a few tiny black spots that weren''t camouflaged when I moved. "For fuck''s sake, I just fixed this thing," I muttered. Add about twenty-six hours to the repair time "Just for these scuffs?" I asked. And because of the damage to the not-fully-repaired leg. Some of the warnings you chose to ignore were highlighting issues within. I cursed under my breath, but... yeah, that was par for the course. In an ideal world I would have finished everything, then ran the mech through some light testing before going back in and fixing anything that needed touch-ups. Then I''d be able to call it properly done. This was... not entirely ideal. I turned away from the mech and took in the scene on the street. It was, in a word, bad. When I arrived I''d initially been more focused on finding Rac and making sure she was alive. I discovered her firing blindly at a warmech designed to take on heavy riot protection duties. It had a cannon that would turn her into a smear and it was rolling right at her. So I''d taken it out, and the other two light mecha. Ripping apart the gun emplacements on the APCs and technicals parked around here was quick and easy too, and that left nothing but some security drones and guys with small arms. I''d made a bit of a mess cleaning up the mechs, but the place was already far past being just messy. I took in a few bodies. More injured. A few mercs had crawled out of cover and were helping their pals. I had a lot of them giving me looks, but as long as I wasn''t aggressive, I was pretty sure they wouldn''t run just yet. "Myalis, why aren''t emergency services here yet?" I asked. Because there was a battle that took place which featured several large mechanised assault vehicles? That... probably made sense, yeah. The average paramedic probably didn''t want to fuck with this entire situation, and I really couldn''t blame them. "Send them the all-clear. Let them know that there are two samurai on the scene keeping things clean." Sent. "Hey!" I called out, and more than one head rose to look my way. It helped that Myalis had caught on to what I was doing and my voice was projected from the mech. "Called in paramedics. Try to keep the injured alive until they arrive. Someone check up on the dead, line them up over to the side there. And someone start clearing out the middle of the damned road. We don''t need to slow down the ambulances when they do arrive." There was a pause, none of the mercs moving quite yet. "Well, get to it!" I snapped. That actually had them jumping into action. It looked like there were maybe half a dozen merc outfits here, maybe more. Some looked like one-car teams. Just buddies that loaded up into a single van and rushed over. A few others looked like more professional outfits. What the hell were they all here for? Fights broke out all the time. This was New Montreal, the police didn''t give a shit, and neither did anyone else. But usually that was between gangs, not mercs. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. I turned towards the other side. The PMC guys were doing the same as the mercs. Moving their injured to one side. It looked like they had at least one medic in their bunch, and he was probably earning his pay right now with the number of injuries to tend to. "This is a bit of a mess," Gomorrah said as she came up behind me. I could feel her approaching. My gear might have been fireproof, on account of how often I worked with her, but I still had a bit of exposed skin in this loadout, and I could feel the heat wafting off of Gomorrah''s gun still. The end was glowing, and there was a faint waver in the air above it. "Yeah," I agreed. "Think you can do me a favour?" "That would depend," she said evenly. "Keep an eye on this whole bunch for me? I''m going to go check on Rac. Myalis, can you set the mech to auto-pilot and, uh, patch Atyacus in?" Certainly. I''m certain he''ll appreciate the permission. I wasn''t sure what she meant by that, but I figured that Gomorrah''s AI wasn''t likely to try and fuck me over. Worst case, I''d come back to find the thagomizer on my tail replaced by a flamethrower or something. Or there would be religious iconography all over the mech. "Don''t give my mech one of those golden rapper chains with the crosses," I said before I took off. "Huh?" Gomorrah said after a moment''s pause. I was already heading over to Rac, though. The girl was standing off to the side with her friends. Coco, the big woman with the cyber arms, was leaning onto that Garter guy. She was also grinning creepily. Rac looked like shit. All of her friends did, actually, and I didn''t miss how Coco was injured, even if it didn''t look all that bad, considering. "Hey," I said as I came over. "You''re Rac''s friend!" Coco said. "From last time. You''re a samurai!" "Uh, yes, and yeah," I agreed. "Coco... likes Samurai," Rac explained. "Hell yeah, I do," Coco said. "Sign my tits!" I blinked. "Do you have a pen?" Coco''s face fell. I don''t think I''d ever seen someone look so sad so quickly before. "Ah, I''m sure we can find a marker," I said. Coco''s grin came back, a little more reserved, and a little more pained. "Myalis, got something cheap for... little boo-boo wounds?" Yes. I have boo-boo treatments, Catherine. I caught a little box out of the air, then read the package before rolling my eyes. Boo-boo treatment: 1x Dose. I tossed it to Coco and noted that it had just cost me a whole point. It looked like it was mostly just a bandage and maybe some antiseptic powder. "Put that on your leg before you bleed out," I said. "The paramedics will be too busy once they get here to look at you." "Thanks," Coco said. "So, last time... why didn''t you tell us you were a samurai? Rac, why didn''t you tell us you knew a samurai?" "I have my reasons," Rac said. She sounded perfectly petulant about it and wasn''t meeting her team''s gazes. I noticed that Rac was looking a little pale, and her hands were shaking, just a little. I wouldn''t trust her with a gun right now. It looked like she was crashing from the adrenaline. I sent Myalis a quick text, and felt something settle in the pocket of my coat. I pulled it out, and handed the can to Rac bottom-first. "Drink," I said. "You need some sugar in you, and something cool." Rac hesitated, but took the can. It didn''t take a genius to know that it wasn''t normal-grade shit, not with the anime-style cats on the can, but she took it anyway and drank up. Food would do her good. At least, that''s what I''d do for a kitten if they were distressed. Food was a good way to remember that things weren''t that desperate. "So, I never really expected to get a call from you. Happy you did, because this looks like a clusterfuck and a half, but, uh, what happened here?" "We were on a job," Garter said. He was standing a lot taller now, trying to look more professional than the relaxed cool guy mood he was in last time. "A job?" I asked. "We were getting your prosthetics," Rac said. Everyone looked at her. I slowly turned and took in the carnage. "What? All this shit for some prosthetics?" "And your pay," Rac said. There was a bit of accusation there. I tossed my arms up. How was I supposed to know that a bunch of people would go nuts over twenty points? The goal was to get info more than anything, not start a small war. "Man, people are stupid," I said. *** Chapter Thirty-Nine - Shots, Spots, Stretchers Chapter Thirty-Nine - Shots, Spots, Stretchers "I''m not paid enough for this." Jacob "Redundant" Smith, Private PMC Contractor, 2057 *** The ambulances arrived soon enough and parked themselves along one side of the road. It looked pretty organised, with the vans spinning around right away so that they were back-first to the mercs and PMCs that needed them. Paramedics jumped out, followed by hovering drones that carried cameras for legal documentation, some remote controlled guns, and a small toolkit with medical supplies and whatever equipment the paramedics needed. The vans were the bigger sort, with bunked gurneys so that each one could carry half a dozen patients at the same time. I imagined that they''d all be filled up soon enough. The mercs had stood down already, but now some of them were tossing guns and gear away as the medics arrived and started unfolding their gurneys to load up the worst and richest of the injured first. I nodded along, happy to see that things were operating smoothly. It meant that I could refocus on Rac and her friends. "So," I said. Rac and her little gang of weirdos were still focused on me. Especially Coco. I''d thought she was pretty cool before, but now I wasn''t so sure. The woman definitely had that fan-girl vibe going on, and while that was fine, it was less fine when it was pointed my way. Rac, at least, looked better. Colour was returning to her cheeks and her eyes were sharp. It didn''t look like she was going to pass out anymore. "Uh, I guess we should see about those prosthetics?" I said. "Oh, and you can meet Gomorrah. You remember her, right Rac?" "Yeah," Rac said. "She''s moving in under you." I nodded slowly, then decided to clarify the statement for the audience. "Yeah, she''s taking over some of the floors in the building under my, uh, house." It looked like Coco was vibrating a little as she turned towards Rac. "You know where she lives?" she asked. Rac looked supremely uncomfortable, but also reluctant to answer. "I, uh, live with Lucy. That''s Ca-- Stray Cat''s wife." "Girlfriend," I pointed out. "For now." "You proposed?" Rac asked. "Really, Cat?" Gomorrah asked as she came up behind me. "What? No. I mean. I will. Eventually. I guess. If Lucy wants." Gomorrah gave me a very unimpressed look, which was impressive considering the full-face mask that was permanently stuck in disappointed glare. She did sigh after a moment. "Actually, that makes perfect sense. She would be the one to act on it." "What''s that mean?" I asked. "Nevermind," Gomorrah said. "I''m keeping my stones uncast here." "Changing the topic for a moment. How did you learn where the prosthetics were? Or did you just keep up with the others swarming the place?" Garter spoke up at last. "We were here first," he said. "Jerusalem was the one to track things down. It took tracking the goods moving around the city, then backtracking to local private military companies." "Why PMCs?" I asked. "Because the trail was really well covered. It was professional work, and we know what mid-level mercenaries can do. This was better. So that left either full-on corpo black-ops, or well-paid PMCs. Or, I guess samurai, but the gig''s client was a samurai, so that wouldn''t make sense." "I''m following you so far," I said. "So, yeah, Jerusalem and I got a short-list of active PMCs in the region, then we worked our way back from there. Checked on the media feeds of some members. Mostly tedious shit, but we got a few suspicious hits after a few hours which led us to this place." He gestured across the street to the warehouse the PMCs had been guarding. "After that, it was checking the cameras until we saw some suspicious vans pull in and unload the goods." I turned and stared at the warehouse across the street. The front of it was... kinda fucked, really. The amount of gunfire being let loose around here had done a number on the thin concrete walls, leaving it chipped and cracked all over. "So, they brought my shit here, huh?" "Yeah," Garter said. "I, uh, don''t imagine this means we''re the ones to fulfil the contr--" he cut off with a cough, and when I glanced back Rac was rubbing her elbow and Garter his lower ribs. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. "We''ll see about that," I said noncommittally. It was one thing to pay up, it was another to pay up after I had to fly over and wreck shit with my mech. Plus now I was down a bunch of ammo and up a few scratches. Something didn''t add up, though. "Hey, Gom," I said. "Yes?" Gomorrah asked. "Okay, so these punks stole some of the prosthetics I was basically giving away. They passed themselves off as another gang to muddy things, then handed them off to someone else, who traded them to someone else, and at some point the things ended up here." "I''m following you so far," Gomorrah said. "Right, so there''s a level of... uh, I guess organisation there, right?" "Yes." "But like..." I gestured to the road-turned-battlefield. "This is a bit much. Those are mecha. Those are APCs with fuck-you guns on them. Those PMCs are all wearing good-looking gear. They''re probably not working for cheap." "Ah, I see," Gomorrah said. "How much were the prosthetics worth?" I let out a breath. "I don''t know. Couple hundred points if you were to buy them outright." I pretended not to hear Garter choking behind me. "But like, Rac printed them for me at home. They''re basically free. Right?" I asked Rac. "I had to gather scrap for the printer," Rac muttered. I grinned and ruffled her hair for a split second before she ducked away. "Right. Sorry. So not free. They mostly cost a few Rac-hours of work each. Which is not an impossible amount." "Rac, you work for a Samurai?" Coco hissed. "I get free rent," Rac muttered back. I went on pretending that I couldn''t hear them. It was too much fun, embarrassing Rac, though I didn''t want to push it too far. Fun was fun, but I didn''t want to actually piss her off. Even if her pouting was cute. "So, these fucks spent... what, a few million credits on defence to steal shit that was not worth a tenth of that? It doesn''t add up." "We haven''t looked into the warehouse yet," Gomorrah said. She hefted her flame thrower. "Do you think they''re hiding more?" "I''m worried about it, yeah," I said. "Rac!" Rac jumped. "Yeah?" "You and your buddies okay to play baby-sitters for a bit? We''re gonna line up the PMCs that aren''t bleeding out and have them stay in one place." "Uh, okay. But if it''s just us, they might not listen." "You''ll have the mech," I said. "Can I ride it?" Rac asked. I laughed. "No." Rac pouted some more. Really, if she knew the face she made when she was disappointed, I was pretty sure she''d never express herself ever again. I was determined not to let her find out from me, though. She''d probably grow out of it soon enough. "Right, let''s see what the PMCs have to say, then... well, I''m breaking in there whether they want me to or not." "That seems reasonable to me," Gomorrah said. "Atyacus is pulling up some concerning results. The credit-trail is extremely suspect." Yeah, that only made sense. I sauntered over to the PMCs who didn''t seem all that happy to see me and Gomorrah walking over. They also didn''t seem ready to try anything. Honestly, if they did, I might have been in a bit of trouble. I was only bulletproof at the moment. If enough of them piled on quick enough I''d have to buy a grenade or two then set them off while closer than I''d like. Gomorrah, on the other hand, could probably fuck them all up, no problem. She was still wearing nun-stuff, but her head was clearly helmeted and her boots looked like they were made of the kind of steel used on tanks. The rest of her was hidden, but there was a lot of... thickness there that suggested she was well covered. Also, big fuck-off flame thrower. Those were really handy in negotiations, because not only could she kill you, but it would hurt the entire time, and there wouldn''t be anything left to bury. "Hello, boys and girls," I said. "I have a lot of questions, and I think I deserve some answers." It didn''t take long to reorganise the PMCs. The lightly injured were set aside, the officers and ranked members were brought to one spot, and the rest got to sit pretty under the watchful eyes of Rac, her friends, and my very large warmech which frequently went invisible and reappeared elsewhere. I think that last bit was just Myalis fucking with them, but I wasn''t going to stop her. *** Side Story Poll! Hello! So, I¡¯ve been having a lot of fun writing side-content for Stray Cat Strut, and I know I¡¯m not the only one. There have been a few fantastic fanfics that have popped up, and you can¡¯t imagine how giddy it makes me to see fan content of my own work! Anyway! This isn¡¯t quite about that! Beatrice (AKA: Electric Prism Synthwave Nova Girl Boom Boom Ranger Sparkles) Smith¡¯s adventures into mercenary work have been fun to write, but they¡¯re only one of many Samurai in the Cybercat-verse. I¡¯m thinking it might be fun to move on to another side character, to highlight some other location, some other events, and fresh viewpoints. This is meant to be a fairly wide and deep world, and Cat¡¯s point of view is fairly narrow. So, yeah, I decided to set up a poll! Here are your options: Neon Girl Happy-Chan - (Set: late 2020s, Ohio, abused child who''s an eternal optimist, focus on early samurai. Tone: Darker, optimistic, early world building) If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Deus Ex - (Set: 2050s, An exceptionally lazy girl that just wants to stay home. Makes a few friends and gets dragged into hijinks. Tone: lower stakes, most cutesy stuff. Meet a lot of the other SCS characters before they become strong) Grasshopper - (Set 2050s, a somewhat off-kilter young teacher who wants to stay as weird as she is despite her life being upended. Tone: Some comedy, but lots of introspection and time spent in the head of a character that¡¯s very weird) Emocythe Mordeath Noir - (Set late 2040s, a goth gets more goth-er, fashion and long discussions about appearances and what it means to be a samurai) Beatrice Hyper Cutie Bubblechan Zoom Ranger Sparkle Girl - We continue her story where it left off! If there are any other samurai you¡¯d like to see more of, then let me know! Or even just... periods of time within the setting, or areas in the world that you want explored! I¡¯m thinking of doing short arcs with each one, just showing a snippet of a samurai¡¯s life. Chapter Forty - Creative Kleptomania Chapter Forty - Creative Kleptomania "Samurai technology might very well be the most valuable thing in the world right now. But humanity is catching up. It''s not fast, but it''s consistent, and the more time we spend breaking down their alien tech, the faster we learn basic principles that will allow humanity to catch up, and eventually surpass, the Protectors. Just give us a few years, a decade at most, and we will turn this world into a utopia!" --Professor Henry, MIT, 2031 *** Predictably, the PMCs knew nothing. In fact, they seemed willfully ignorant. They were not remembering a lot of things, and that was probably my fault. I had questioned the group together. Once one of them insisted he couldn''t even remember how long he''d been working at this location for, or what his hours were like, or how much he was being paid, the others decided to join in on the rapid forgetfulness, especially when it became clear that I wasn''t going to shoot them for not giving me the answers I wanted. It was frustrating, but at the same time, more or less understandable. They were very insistent that they didn''t know what they were defending, and I was even inclined to believe them. Myalis tapped into their augs and was able to confirm that none of them had been any deeper into the warehouse than the first dozen metres past the entrance. That left one avenue to discover what this place was hiding, and that was checking it out myself. Of course, I obviously assumed that the place was boobytrapped out the ass. If whomever had set this up could afford private contractors this well-equipped, then they could afford a few grenades and some string, or a few more complex options. "I don''t want to go in there," I admitted to Gomorrah. She eyed the interior of the warehouse. "I can''t pick up any obvious traps. But I also don''t have anything designed for picking out traps in the first place, and I don''t think traps would set off my thermals." "So, options?" I asked. "Get trap-disarming equipment?" Gomorrah proposed. I took a deep breath, then shook my head. "Expensive, I bet. And I don''t have a big supply of fresh points I want to spend on this. The electronics for my augs to see traps might be fairly cheap, but then again, they might not cover everything." "So we send in some of these PMCs one at a time? We have... a decent number of them." "Wow," I said. "That''s... really fucking cold." Gomorrah paused, then nodded. "You''re right. That is a rather uncharitable way to treat people. And a war crime." "That''s never stopped us, but I''d rather keep the war crimes aimed at the aliens, not... well, these chumps aren''t innocent, but they''re not exactly evil. If they''d shot Rac up for real, then sure, but they didn''t hurt me or mine." "So we leave this to the professionals?" I flinched back. "No way," I said. "They''ll take forever and we might never learn what''s actually going on. Though... Alright, I''m gonna send a cat drone in. It''s small, might not trigger every trap, and if it does, then it''s a dozen points gone, not a huge deal." I can get you something simple and disposable for about twenty points. Any lower and its utility would be highly questionable. It''s already not going to be very impressive, armed, or capable of long-term operations. I nodded along. Another point sink, but not a huge one this time. A box appeared next to me, and I popped the top off, aware that Rac''s friends and some of the PMCs had frozen up at the sight of the box. A fat cat ambled out of the box. It was... exactly that. A large, chonky boy of a cat drone. "Myalis, why does this drone look like it needs to go on a diet?" Cheaper parts are often larger and heavier. This is the price of compromise. "Huh?" I... decided not to dive into that one. Instead, I lifted the cat drone up while making sure that the fact that it was damned heavy wasn''t obvious. I should have lifted with my knees. Bringing it over to the entrance of the warehouse, I set it down, then gestured within. "Go ahead." Certainly. The cat strutted in, tail swaying from side to side while its head scanned left and right. At the same time, a small screen opened up on my aug''s display, showing me what the chonker could see. I made sure that the screen was shared with Gomorrah. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. The outer parts of the warehouse weren''t anything too special. There were a few bays to the side for parking their APCs and a few more ordinary vans. Further in was a small maintenance hangar like thing. I guessed that that''s where the mecha were parked when they weren''t terrorizing local mercs. There was a small set of rooms to the right, and the cat drone sauntered on over there first. It was a bit of a dead end, though. The rooms had a small office at the front and a decently large break room. There was an air hockey table, a small kitchen, a couple of couches around a small TV. At the back was a locker room with a shower space and some washrooms, and to one side a small room with three bunk beds crammed into it. So, this was where the PMCs slept and waited when they weren''t on duty. The PCs in the office had scrubbed themselves already, but Myalis and Atyacus were able to tell that they were mostly duty rosters and emails from the PMC''s headquarters. Everything was encrypted in both directions, but even after poking through, it was all mundane shit. The most interesting part wasn''t in that room. In the rear-centre of the warehouse was a building set atop a large platform of scaffolds. A few weak lights underneath let us see all the way through, and the rear didn''t touch the back wall, nor did the top of this building-in-a-building touch the ceiling. "That''s weird, right?" I asked. "You mean a decently large building hidden within another so that none of the exterior walls, floors, or ceiling touches anything solid?" Gomorrah asked. "Yes, Cat, that''s weird." I could kind of guess why it was done this way. Rac has mentioned coming up through the floor. This would prevent that entirely, and Myalis said that the outer scaffolds and the metallic netting around them were electrified. Weakly, but enough to create some sort of big signal-fuckering thing. The only way in was at the front, at the end of a metal ramp that led up to a large bulkhead style door. I''m going to break through the door''s lock now. I nodded along, then started moving people back and away from the warehouse. I didn''t think that it was actually a danger, but... well, better safe than sorry. The cat stared at the keypad for a good long while before it went green, then the big door slid open. Inside was... an airlock. The cat stepped in, then waited while it cycled. I suspect that the gas the room is filled with is lethal to humans. Though it might not be on purpose. "How''s that?" I asked. I suspect that it''s pure nitrogen. But I don''t have proper analysis systems on the drone. "Then what makes you think it''s nitrogen?" I asked. The drone pointedly stared at a large pipe with the word NITROGEN painted on its side. "Oh." I scratched at my neck. "Why nitrogen?" "Nitrogen doesn''t react to very much," Gomorrah said. "It''s non-flammable, and non-explosive. Probably relatively cheap as well. If you''re going to preserve things, then it''s maybe not the best choice, but it''s not far from it. And it makes the air lethal to breathe, but if it leaks, it won''t be that big of a problem as long as there''s good ventilation in the space around it." Well, this operation was looking more and more expensive by the minute. The inner airlock door opened, and the cat drone walked into a large room that seemed to take up most of the space of this inner building. The cat stopped a few steps in and scanned its head around. I stared. The room had a wall covered in cubbies with glass doors. I could see all sorts of random trash in there. The rest of the room was a sort of factory space. Large robotic arms hanging from the ceiling, multiple workstations with more remote-controlled systems. Lots of hanging cameras. "Myalis, what the hell am I looking at?" Surprisingly, Gomorrah answered first. "It''s a deconstruction space. They''re taking things apart." "Why?" I asked. I noticed one table had a prosthetic leg on it, held in place between two vices. Small robotic arms were frozen in the act of taking off one of the plastic-like coverings. It seems as if we''ve discovered a reverse-engineering lab. *** Chapter Forty-One - Recreational Urban Warfare Chapter Forty-One - Recreational Urban Warfare Anon: "Sunrise Technologies... the Future, Today!" Anon: "No, that''s too cheesy." Anon: "Our in-house AI came up with it. I think it''s a perfect slogan." Anon: "Our in-house AI is a fucking moron." --Sunrise Technology, Discussion Chat, 2055 *** "What the fuck are we supposed to do about this?" I asked. Chonker the remote controlled cat had managed to spring up and onto one of the workbenches. Its head scanned left to right, so I got a nice panoramic picture of the entire space. There was a lot of tech here. Nothing too big. Mostly it looked like discarded guns, some small containers, lots of medical stuff, I noted, as well as gun mags, loose ammo, healing inhalers, filtration devices. Basically a lot of small quickly discarded crap. I had left some of that kind of crap here and there myself, and I guessed that I wouldn''t mind someone picking it up and trying to figure out how it worked. The table next to one of my prosthetics had what looked like a quadrupedal turret drone. It was a big bulky thing, with armoured legs and a twin-barrelled gun in its centre. The entire thing was partially melted from the front, and it looked like it had lost a fight with one of the freakier sorts of antithesis. There''s another of your drones here. And Atyacus found a flying scout drone that belonged to Gomorrah here as well. Myalis highlighted a couple of the cubicles at the back in red. It looked like they were filled to the brim with scrap. "It looks like a lot of junk," Gomorrah said. With her mask on, it was impossible to tell if she was looking at me or at what Chonker was capturing for us, but I assumed we were looking at the same thing. "Yeah, but it''s samurai junk," I said. "Probably worth a small fortune to the right collector. I don''t know if I should be angry about them reverse-engineering some of this stuff or not," I said. It wasn''t all bad, obviously. Lots of modern tech was based on shit that samurai had bought and distributed. Tech had to improve, and being able to steal from other, more advanced tech was probably the cheapest, easiest way to improve things. The concerning part was the weird secrecy of this place. And the fact that they''d stolen my shit to disassemble it. "Myalis, is samurai gear tagged? Like, can you tell who bought what?" Yes, of course. There are serial sequences encoded onto most items. "Like a serial number?" I asked. Somewhat more complex, but for the purposes of keeping things simple, yes. "Alright, so can you look at that junk and tell what belongs to who?" Certainly. Though my awareness doesn''t necessarily allow me to communicate that information to you. Right, our AI had a whole thing about privacy going on. At least between samurai. Myalis didn''t seem to do more than pass lip-service when it came to the privacy of anyone else. I can confirm the presence of four items that are yours. Three from Gomorrah. That is, not counting the prosthetics. "Looks like one surveillance drone I used... well before we met, and two tanks of fuel for my flame throwers," Gomorrah said. "Some of these things I used a while ago. I don''t know what I''d even do with them now." "If it was just samurai trash, I don''t think I''d have any sort of problem with this whole operation," I said. "Can you figure out who this is?" Sunrise Technologies. I blinked. That name was eerily familiar. "Wait... aren''t those the fucks who tried to kidnap Katallina?" "They did kidnap her," Gomorrah said. "We un-kidnapped her. Isn''t she still staying at your place?" "Yeah," I said. "What the fuck, I though I''d ruined that company?" You emptied their accounts. It seems as if that didn''t really do much. It was clear that they were a company designed to take the fall for others already, and it seems as if that purpose continues here. "And I bet that figuring out who actually owns them is going to be a nightmare," I said. I rubbed at my face. "Right. I''m calling the Family about this. Some of the shit in there is theirs, right?" I can''t confirm that definitively. However, it''s statistically improbable that, out of several thousand Vanguard-quality items seemingly gathered from around this city, not a single one belongs to a member of the Family. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. I groaned. "Alright. Gom, can you keep an eye on things. I need to call... fuck, what was the name of that weasely secretary guy from the Family? The one I keep bullying?" "You''re bullying a secretary?" Gomorrah asked. Her voice was flat, more so than usual, even. "He''s a bureaucrat," I said, which judging by her indifferent shrug, was enough of an excuse to pass. I searched through my contact''s list, which was much longer than I remembered it being. It used to only have Lucy, a few of the kittens, and some of the kittens that had ''graduated'' from the orphanage and which I grabbed the numbers of. I... probably should check up on some of them, even if they were older than I was and probably doing alright for themselves. Or so I hoped. My contact list now had a few samurai, some people I''d met, and others that I couldn''t remember. "Myalis, is this your doing?" I included notes. I found an Eric on the list and opened the contact. There were, in fact, notes. A small head-on image of Eric that looked like it was from some paperwork, a small profile beneath that. Nothing extensive, but enough to remind me of who he was. "Huh. Thanks," I said before I tapped call. You''re welcome. I''m not overly fond of secretarial work, but it''s hardly an imposition. "Still, appreciate you doing it," I said. Oh. I''m not. I offloaded that to a smaller AI I designed to take care of it for me. I have better things to do with my uptime. The call connected before I really had time to figure that out. One screen had an image of Eric''s face. It looked like he was parked in some cubicle, staring at a webcam. The lower screen was of myself, as seen from above and at an angle. I turned that way, then noticed my warmech staring at me. Neat. "Hey," I said. "Hello, Miss Stray Cat? How can I help you? Did you want an update on the sewer situation?" Oh, shit, I''d almost forgotten about that. "Not just yet," I said, trying to keep my cool. "So, you know how I''m on vacation?" "Yes?" he asked. There was a lot of trepidation in that one word. "Well, one thing led to another, and it started a gang war, of sorts? If PMCs and mercenary teams count as gangs." "Your... vacation started that?" "Yeah," I said. "Anyway, I ran into a sort of... samurai-tech cache? It''s a big building, lots of remote-controlled shit, chock-full of stolen samurai gear. Mostly disposables, but there''s guns, ammo, explosives, medical tech. Probably a few thousand points worth of random stuff." "A few... okay," Eric said. He wiped his brow. "Okay. Yes, that is something we''d like to look into. Is it a storage unit?" "Nah. Here, Myalis, can your secretary AI send Eric some of the pics Chonkers took?" "Chonkers?" Eric asked. His eyes widened as he obviously received a packet from Myalis. Then he stared off into space for a few long moments. "Is that a fully-automated site?" "Looks like it," I said. "Deconstruction and disassembly and maybe some reverse engineering shit. They stole from me, and I, uh, kinda hired some mercs to track my stuff for me. The company is called Sunrise Technologies. They''ve fucked around in the past. Didn''t find out hard enough." Eric was nodding along. He was probably thinking of all the ways this could be good publicity, or good for his career. Or maybe how this was making me forget about the sewers, which it admittedly had. But he didn''t need to know about that last part. I cleared my throat and Eric jumped. "So, do you want the Family to secure the site?" "That''d be nice," I said. "We''ll have a team there within an hour," he promised. "And did you want a portion of the profits?" I almost repeated that last part aloud, but I caught myself. "That''d be... more than nice. Also, Gomorrah is here. She helped." "Yes, of course. We can make sure she gets a fair share as well. Thank you for calling, Stray Cat. Is there, ah, anything else I can help you with?" "Uh... no?" I tried. I noticed that Rac and her team were arguing nearby, which meant they weren''t watching the PMCs as much as they should. I was going to have to step in. "I''ll be waiting for your team. Tell them to make it snappy, and maybe come loaded for trouble." *** Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter One Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter One Daisy stifled a yawn. System Initialized! Congratulations. Through your actions you have proven yourself worthy of becoming one of the Vanguard, a defender of humanity. I am Lynus. I will assist you to uplift humanity so that you may defend your homeworld from the Antithesis threat! Rise, Daisy Moon, and become a protector of the weak! "Seriously?" Daisy asked. She shifted on the spot, very much aware of the way her slippers stuck to the carpet and squelched disgustingly underfoot. Her pyjamas were covered in a heavy splatter of greenish blood. So were the walls, and some of the ceiling. Hello, Daisy! Daisy opted to ignore the voice in her head for now. Instead, she turned and walked deeper into her home. It was a nice place. Her dad''s. He had one of those weird paper-pusher jobs that paid better than it should, and which came with a nice apartment on the upper third of a mega building. It even had windows, and her own room. She walked out of the entrance lobby, past the open-plan kitchen-living room, and into her dad''s office. The gun safe was open, though the gun that was meant to be in it was currently cradled in her arms. Flipping the shotgun over, Daisy reached into a small box and removed a pair of shells. She slipped them into the loading port at the bottom of the gun, then fit two more in. Daisy paused. The next bit was usually something she''d ask her augs to search for her. But now... "Do I need to pump it?" she asked. That model of shotgun has room for four shells in the tube, and one in the chamber. The chamber is currently empty. "Okay," Daisy said. She pumped the gun, then shoved another round in. She considered taking the box, or a few shells, but her silken pyjamas had no pockets, so she shrugged and left the room. "Daisy! Daisy?" her dad asked. He was in his room, the door open just a crack. "Sweetie, are you okay? I heard shots." "Go back to work," she said. "It''s nothing." "Oh... okay sweetie." The door shut with an audible click, and Daisy slid past. The entrance hall had a pair of corpses blocking it. Large, dog-like monsters, with black fur and green blood. They smelled faintly of turned soil and mud. It wasn''t an unpleasant smell, Daisy found, but it was still annoying. It clung, like the scented stuff spritzed in public washrooms. She walked over to the nearest monster, then kicked it in the gut. That moved it enough that, with more effort than she cared to use, she was able to slam the front door shut. Then she pushed the monster''s corpse up against it. Then the second one was rolled closer, effectively barricading the door with a lot of literally dead weight. Daisy yawned again, checked the time--around 10AM, then turned and headed back. Are you going to take this time to decide on what to do? "No. I''m going to shower. Then change into a fresh pair of pyjamas." You... are not going to help? "I''m going back to sleep." Your augmentation''s records suggest that you''ve slept nine hours already before being awakened. That''s not including the four hours you spent in bed watching memes and animal videos. "That''s what I''m going to do again," Daisy said. "Until I fall asleep again." You are in near-perfect health. I can''t seem to find any true indicators of narcolepsy, or any illnesses that would encourage you to need that much sleep. Daisy sighed. "What''s your name again?" Lynus. "I like sleeping, Lynus. I like my bed. I like my soft pyjamas, and my mountain of plushies, and my books. I don''t like being told that I''m lazy. Do you know what day it is, Lynus?" Sunday? "My day off. I don''t have any extracurriculars today. No school. I did my homework. I have nothing. I never do anything on Sunday. Sunday is the lord''s day. And I am the lord." I see. You are aware that there''s an incursion at this location? "Yeah. Heard the alarms. They woke me up." Daisy leaned the shotgun up against the side of her bedroom''s door. She shucked off her loafers, then bent down and rolled up the cuffs of her pyjamas so that they wouldn''t stain the floor. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Her bedroom wasn''t the biggest room in the house, but it wasn''t the smallest. There was space for a queen-sized bed, a desk, and a respectable dresser next to the entrance to her walk-in. The bed was the centrepiece though. It had synthetic cashmere covers, over silk sheets. Seventeen pillows of various sizes and shapes. A few hundred plushies, mostly small. Most of them spilled out onto the floor. A light glowed from under the covers. Her reading flashlight, for reading old, physical-print books. She eyed the bed lovingly, but she couldn''t. Not with the way she was covered in alien gore. So Daisy went into her dresser and found a fresh set of pyjamas from the pyjama drawer. Then some underthings. Then she was out again. "Can you not stare as I shower?" I''ll respect your privacy. If you wish, for a few points you could buy some very nice shampoo and conditioner and bodywash. "Why?" Daisy asked. It''ll remove the odour of antithesis blood from your skin. It can be quite staining. And the conditioner will leave your hair smooth, freshen your skin, and works to remove blemishes. "Hmm," Daisy said. "Are you trying to tempt me with luxuries?" Yes. "But then I''d have to go out and kill things for more points." That is accurate. "Lynus?" Yes? "What day is it?" ... Sunday. "I''ll try that shampoo stuff," she said. Usually she showered on Saturday night, then again early on Monday. But she supposed that a long shower was relaxing all on its own. The shower was nice. She rolled past the hot water meter, and idly ignored the warning in her augs about her water consumption. Lynus seemed to bat it aside without a care, and the water didn''t even switch to cold to get her to leave. The shampoo smelled like strawberries. Actual strawberries, not the artificial scent of them. She supposed there was some use to being a samurai. "This isn''t so bad," she said as she stepped out, wrapping a towel around her head. There are many reasons why Vanguard go out and try to make a difference. Few of them have been enticed by luxuries, but I suppose it''s not all bad. "Hmm," she hummed. "I''d need a samurai name." The current tradition holds that the first Vanguard a new Vanguard meets names them. With some exceptions, of course. "Nah," she said as she slipped into her pyjama top. It was extremely thick, and soft, and warm, and maybe slightly damp from being in the sauna-like bathroom, but she could live with that. "I''m naming myself, if it comes to that." Does that mean you''ll be acting as a Vanguard? "Still Sunday," she said. I see. Of course. I don''t suppose technicalities like time zones would count? "Only if it means that it''s Sunday for longer," Daisy said. Of course. So, you seem to have an idea for a name? She nodded as she slipped back into her room, taking the shotgun with her. She pointed to a small statue above the door. One of the few things she''d added to the room itself, other than the larger bed. She''d insisted, and her father complied because it wasn''t a big deal. It was a greek figure, a man with wings, his eyes closed, his arms fallen by his side. He seemed almost lazy. A small plaque under the figure named him. "Hypnos." "I can''t take his name, of course," Daisy said. "So... well, I always thought that he wasn''t appreciated enough." She nodded. I see. A mythological figure associated with sleep. You want something related to that as a name? "Hmm, how about... Somnus Deus Est?" It had proper gravitas. A name that people could respect, with history, with power. Daisy flopped onto her bed, then writhed her way under the covers. That was enough for today. "We''ll see about all that samurai stuff later," she said. Later? "Tomorrow, Lynus." She yawned. "Tomorrow." You are aware that the incursion is ongoing? "Look, if they come in here, then I''ll take care of them. If they don''t, too bad. Just tell the aliens that they can either respect my time off, of fuck off, yeah?" I''ll be certain to let them know. *** Chapter Forty-Two - Trash Panda Feelings Chapter Forty-Two - Trash Panda Feelings "As we modernise, it''s become increasingly obvious that the youngest generations are lacking crucial, real-world communication skills. Small talk is becoming harder. Connections are more difficult to establish. More notably, the time and opportunity for people to improve on these skills, meet new people, and create bonds is shrinking. More work is remote. Open gathering spaces are less common. Our new society isn''t designed to encourage community. And this will have a powerful impact on any new society''s abilities to rebel. A counter-culture needs to start from the roots, from people who are tired and want to see change, and who are willing to work together to achieve it. This new world we''re developing is stomping on the very foundations that rebellion needs to function." --A Study of Sociology and Rebellion, 2028 *** Things finally calmed down around the same time as the Family arrived. And when they arrived, they really made a show of it. Seven heavy vans, escorted by a trio of light combat vehicles. Enough spotlights to turn the dreary tunnel street into a bright-as-day space. The Family settled off to one side, and then the doors to their vans opened up and the teams within dispersed. It was all orderly and careful, soldiers with clear training moving in a predetermined, practised way. I decided to stand aside. Eventually, one of them would come over to brown-nose, but for now, I could leave them to it. Which meant that I had nothing better to do than annoy Rac and her friends. The group was backing away, letting the cops and newly arrived Family take care of the Sunrise PMCs. So Rac and her friends were all standing next to one of the still-burning APCs, and it looked like Rac was being raked across the coals by Garter. "Hey, Gom," I said. "I''ll be back in a minute or two. Just gonna check on Rac." "Sure," Gomorrah said. "I''ll direct the Family. I don''t want them stumbling into a trap." I nodded my thanks, then started walking towards Rac and her... team? Did they have a team name? I couldn''t remember them mentioning one, and I was afraid that if I asked about it, it might come off as corny. My ears twitched as I got closer. Garter was clearly not happy about something. "If we''d known, it would have changed everything," he said. Rac crossed her arms, but she wasn''t meeting his eyes. I knew that look. She wanted to stand up to him, knew he was wrong, but was afraid of pushing back too hard. "It shouldn''t change anything," she said. "Of course it does," Garter said. He swiped a hand through his hair. "You know a samurai. Two of them! Maybe more? That''s... huge? Do you know the kind of rep that comes with that? The kind of doors it opens up?" "Garter, chill a little," Coco said. "It''s cool that Rac has friends in high places, but they''re her friends, not ours." "Cat''s not like that," Rac said. "She''d figure out that you''re trying to scam her right away." "Scam her? No, I just want to be her friend too. There is so much to gain from just knowing a samurai. After tonight, our rep is going to be damned solid. We can lean into that, grow the crew, get Millenium to give us a few more jobs that pay better. We can take more careful risks if we have a samurai to fall back on like tonight." "Cat won''t rescue us that often," Rac said. "She''s on vacation right now. I think it''s the only reason she came." "Wait, this is vacation?" Coco asked with a gesture to the street and the carnage laid out across it. The motion was why she was glancing my way and saw me coming. She wasn''t the first. Jerusalem was staring already, but it looked like he''d elected not to let his team know. "I am on vacation," I said. "At least until I don''t feel like it anymore, or I run out of points to spend, which at this rate is gonna happen sooner than I''d like," I said as I came up behind the group. Garter jumped and spun around. "Ah, Miss Stray Cat." "Just Stray Cat," I said. "Or Cat, if you''re a friend." "Cat then," he said. "You''re not a friend," I pointed out. Garter''s jaw worked, but he wisely chose to keep his mouth shut as I turned my attention to Rac. I nodded to the side. "Can we chat?" Rac nodded, then practically scampered after me as I moved on. We left her friends behind and relocated closer to one of the walls alongside the road. There was an actual bike and pedestrian path, which was kind of weird to find in an underground street. Maybe it was for the few people working down here to get from one location to another without the overhead of having a car? This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. In any case, it was a space separated from the rest by a wall of hip-high plastic bars, and it served to separate us from the rest well enough. "Hey," I said as I turned to her. "I overheard Garter a little." Rac pouted. "Yeah," she said. Then she sighed, and it was at once wistful and... very disappointed. "You know, I kinda liked Garter?" "Liked?" I asked. "Yeah," she said. "Ah," I replied. To be entirely honest, I''d kind of missed out on the whole ''crush'' phase. I mean, I could vaguely recall a younger me thinking that some characters on shows that I liked were hot, and I might maybe have had a crush on a fast food mascot (she had big tits) but that was passing. My first real crush was Lucy, and Lucy caught on... pretty much instantly. Then Lucy abused the shit out of that crush until one thing led to another and we were mostly all over each other. Anyway, I didn''t have much experience with failed romance. I wasn''t going to lie to myself and say that I wasn''t pleased to see that this thing between Rac and Garter wasn''t working out. Mostly because Garter had been pinging my ''piece of shit-dar'' for a while. "So," I began. "Yeah?" Rac asked. She stared at me, expecting something. I resisted the urge to let out a sigh. "You did alright," I said. "Tracking the prosthetics, getting here on time. Shit went to shit, but that''s hardly your fault, you know?" "I know," Rac said. "I''m... I''m not the sort to blame myself for things going wrong. Things have been going wrong forever. Shit flows down, and I was always at the bottom, but I''m not the one making the shit." "That''s a roundabout way of saying you''re not an asshole." She pouted harder. "Maybe I should be." "Aww, don''t be that way," I said as I reached over to pat her head. She ducked away from it, but I think it''s the thought that matters. Lucy was better at this kind of stuff than I was. "Look, I''m sorry things didn''t go as you planned. Still happy you called. I''d rather have you annoyed at me or whatever, than find out you''re dead after not showing up back home for a while." Rac glanced up, then nodded. "Alright." she said. "So, you''re not angry? With me? With Garter?" "Eh, I''m ambivalent about Garter right now. He seems like a bit of a dick. Don''t let him schmooze you just to get to me, alright? Coco seems cool, and Spider... well, he at least isn''t pretending to not be a dick." "Spider''s pretty cool," Rac agreed. "And Coco''s... nice. She doesn''t treat me like she''s my mom. More like a cool older sister." There was a pointed look there. Did... did she think I was mothering her? That couldn''t be any further from the truth. If anything, I was more of a dead-beat dad. I got her food and a place to stay, then left her with chores for days on end without checking in. Was that bad parenting? It was better than what my parents did for me, which was mostly just dying. I did sigh this time, then placed a hand on her shoulder. Rac didn''t seem to mind the contact. "I''m sorry," I said. "For not being around as much. I guess I kinda just... lumped you in with the kittens, then left you to do your own thing. You''re kind of in a weird spot. One of mine, but without all of the background, you know?" Rac squirmed a little, but nodded. I wasn''t sure if we were on the same wavelength, actually, but it didn''t feel like we were entirely on opposite ends of things. "We can talk more later... actually, no, Lucy can talk more later. She''s the good one to talk to about this kind of stuff," I said. Rac nodded, and I wasn''t sure how to feel about her instant agreement there. "I''m gonna go check up on Gomorrah. Will you be able to make it back home alright, or do you need a ride?" "In the mech?" "There''s barely room for two in there," I said. "And, uh, no offence, but we''re not close enough for you to lay down on top of me while in a tight confined space. I was thinking more that I''d pay for your cab." "Oh," Rac said. "No, I can manage that." "Alright," I said. This time I did get to her head, and her pout was accompanied by a glare, one that was severely diminished by how ruffled her hair was. *** Chapter Forty-Three - Finders, Not Keepers Chapter Forty-Three - Finders, Not Keepers "Note to self: Don''t fuck with Rac''s weird catgirl friend." --Jerusalem "Spider" Smith, personal notes, 2057 *** I found Gomorrah chatting with not one, but three Family people. One of them was wielding a clipboard, the other two looked like they were a step ahead of the average PMC. Good gear, very sleek armour, slightly rounded and pitch black. It looked like they were custom fits too, or damned near to that. The kind of stuff that no real army would buy because they''d need a million different sizes to outfit a battalion. Their helmeted heads turned my way as I came over, and I made a conscious effort not to be intimidated even a little. Their gear looked pretty tight. There was definitely a samurai providing this shit, and I wasn''t sure where my own gear sat in terms of quality. Then again, I had a large mech standing nearby, so fuck them and their little armoured suits. "Hey," I said as I came up. "Good news, no news, news that''s not so good?" Gomorrah let out a breath. "Something like that," she said. "This is Officer Kennedy." She gestured to the lightly-armoured guy with the clipboard. "Ma''am," he replied with a nod. "We were just going over the assessment with Samurai Gomorrah. Do you want us to start over?" "Just give me the quick notes," I said. He nodded, then glanced at the tablet he held. "We''ve secured the area around the disassembly factory. No explosives found. No traps. The area within is still filled with unbreathable air, but that is an incidental matter and only a complication, not a method to prevent ingress." "Uh-huh," I said. "Did you find a way to clear it out?" "We''re opting not to," he said. "We have a team coming in with PPE suitable for the task." Gomorrah nodded along. "The plan right now is to check what they have, catalogue everything." "And then what?" I asked. She shrugged. "Leave it to the Family?" I frowned. They couldn''t see it, but I think everyone caught on to the fact that I was hesitating. This whole thing was a new sort of fucky. The gear in there was stolen, yeah, and now we''ve taken it out of the hands of the people who''d stolen it, but that didn''t mean it was returned to its owners. If someone jacked something that belonged to me, and then I discovered that the cops had caught on to them, I''d be pretty pleased about it. But if I didn''t get my shit back, then I was basically no better off than if they hadn''t caught the thief. "What are you guys going to do with all the stuff in there?" I asked. "We''re going to move it to a more secure facility, for starters," Kennedy said. "I don''t know what will happen to the materials past that." "Mhm," I said. I raised a finger in a ''one moment'' gesture, then popped open a text chat for Myalis. ''What will they do with it?'' Historically, the Family has made most of its fortune from the selling of blueprints and Vanguard equipment onto the open and grey market. Right, figured. "So, priority number one right now is figuring out which samurai all those things belong to," I said. "Then we call them up." Kennedy froze for a moment. "Our orders are to move the items to a secure location first, for cataloguing and safety." I shook my head. "There''s got to be a record, right? Something that''ll let you know where everything is from?" "There is a small server here. Its only connection is to a private network, the same one used to operate the machinery within the facility," Kennedy said. He tapped his tablet a few times. "It has dates and times, item descriptions, but nothing on which samurai each item belongs to." "It can''t be that hard to back-track," I said. "Myalis said that everything she makes has a sort of serial thing on it. Atyacus does the same?" Gomorrah paused, as if listening to something, then nodded. "He says so, yes." "Great. So everything is tagged. We''ll be able to know who it belongs to." I think I see where you''re going with this. You won''t be making many friends in the Family, but I do find it incredibly entertaining. Do go on. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. "I''m sure if you can''t find the tags, Gom or I can give you something to check them out. Like a fancy barcode scanner or something?" I nodded, liking the idea. "Then we just need to contact each samurai, tell them that their shit''s right here for pickup." "I... see," Kennedy said. I think he also saw how giving this stuff right back to its owner would mean that the Family wouldn''t be profiting from it. Well, not profiting as much from it. Most of the things in there looked like discarded junk to me. If someone called me up to tell me they''d found a magazine I dropped a week ago, I''d tell them to keep it. It was the big-ticket items that were more interesting. "I''m sure we can arrange that," Kennedy said. It didn''t sound like he wanted to, but I was pretty sure he''d do it. "Hey, don''t worry. Some of those samurai will be dead, and maybe their next-of-kin or whatever will let you keep the shit in there. Or you could break a deal with them for hard cash or something." "I''ll let HQ know," he said. In all likelihood most of the items here were discarded weeks prior. The Vanguard to whom they belong will have moved on. There''s also the possibility that they''ve perished, or that some of the items belong to Vanguard who are off-world at the moment. The Family will still profit from this venture. Yeah, figures. I''d just cut into their bottom line a little, but I hadn''t cut it apart. They''d make their credits here. I let the conversation stretch into silence as I watched the Family''s soldiers move. I didn''t think the Family was bad. They had their own best interests as their first priority, but otherwise they were working to make things better, to help. I couldn''t exactly dislike that. But at the same time, that didn''t mean I wouldn''t be at least a little suspicious of them. "Right," I said at last, cutting into the silence. "I think that''s it for me here. I''m going to need to get my mech back home, which isn''t going to be the easiest thing to do. I''ll leave you guys to your work?" "We''d appreciate that, ma''am," Kennedy said with a serious nod. "We''ll keep you informed. HQ should be sending a link to an updatable file structure. If you want, we can have any goods that are marked as yours shipped to your residence?" "That would actually be nice, yeah. Those prosthetics they stole were supposed to go to people that needed them. I guess if they''re disassembled... well, maybe they''ll be good for parts?" I had no idea, but maybe See-Three would know better. I expected that having a heap of spare parts for the prosthetics we were making wouldn''t hurt. Speaking of spare parts... I glanced at my mech and sighed. Yeah, I was gonna need to get back to work. There were a lot of repairs left. "I think I''ll be heading back as well," Gomorrah said. "Keep me informed as well. Atyacus can take your messages. Cat, do you need help moving your mech again?" "I''d appreciate it," I said. Getting the mech here had been... tricky. It was fast, on the ground, but this was halfway across the damned city. So to get the mech here, I''d ridden it on top of the Fury. The articulated paws were able to get a good grip, and Gomorrah was able to fly her car well enough to keep it stable throughout. It had still been... harrowing. I was only pretty sure that I''d survive a fall. "This was... interesting," Gomorrah said as she walked up next to me. She glanced around the tunnel. "Is this the kind of stuff you''ve been up to, lately? Shooting politicians and getting into arguments with the Family?" "More or less, yeah," I said. "Is it weird that I almost miss fighting the aliens that want to eat me?" "No, not at all. They don''t have politics. Unless ''eating you'' is political?" "In some places," I said with a laugh. "Maybe. But yeah. It''s simpler. See the alien, shoot the alien. Easy. This shit is all about competing interests and figuring out who wants to screw with me the most. It''s a pain in the ass to deal with." "I don''t know. You''ve been handling it well enough. And the aliens are always there if you want to end your vacation early." I hummed. "I''ll think about it. I do think that this vacation of mine is coming to a middle." *** Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Two Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Two Daisy turned her head and looked at the alarm clock sitting next to her bed. It was battery operated, which was the only reason it still displayed the time. 12:10, in the AM. She almost wanted to cry. It was, in every way that mattered, Monday. With a long-suffering sigh that came from deep, deep within her, Daisy pushed her blankets up. They were heavy, thickly padded things, and the plushies on top only served to make the blankets even harder to raise. Are you well? "Yeah," Daisy said. She slipped her feet into her slippers, then stood. "It''s Monday." I can confirm as much, yes. Daisy very, very reluctantly stood. She adjusted her nightgown, then just stayed where she was, the weight of having to wait a whole six days until the next Sunday pressing down on her. "God damn it," she whispered. Is everything okay? Your hormone levels are consistent with someone grieving. I''ll admit that I''m somewhat concerned. "I''m in mourning. Another Sunday has laid its life on the line and won''t ever be seen again. It''s a tragedy." She shook her head. "Sorry, I''m being melodramatic. It''s just frustrating that I have another week to wait." I probably shouldn''t bring this up, but you know that as a Vanguard, the usual rules don''t truly apply to you. Daisy paused, then shook her head. "No. They still do. The rules don''t apply to powerful samurai. I''m not that. Not yet. But I guess I can work on it." She stretched, a hand raising up as high as she could bring it while she tilted her upper body to one side. "How many points do I have?" One hundred and thirty. Twenty from the two kills you secured. Another ten from your daily allowance. "Okay. How do I spend them?" That depends very much on what you want. What are you looking for? "You''re the expert," she said. "But I''m gonna head out now. So whatever would help?" I see. Do you mind if I look into your media profiles? I can deduce from that the kind of equipment would be best suited for you. Though your actual preferences might be different after actual time spent in the field. "Go nuts," Daisy said. "Can''t imagine I''ll get the good stuff for one-thirty." In practical terms, I''d suggest energy-based weaponry. As for your defensive capabilities, I''d suggest not being hit. Daisy blinked, then laughed. "Yeah, alright, I can do not being hit." She stretched the other way, then gestured to a row of trophies over her dresser. "Do those factor in?" Your gymnastic experience is a factor, yes. It will be hard to tell how accurate you are until you pick up a weapon properly, but you did well enough with your father''s shotgun at close ranges. The weapon is notably not suitable for you in terms of size and weight. "Mhm," she said. The recoil had surprised her the first time, and the kick had hurt. Not enough to leave a bruise, but enough to make her respect the gun a little more with the second shot. "Alright. Shortlist some sort of light armour anyway. Something that I''ll be able to move in. But first priority is on a good weapon. Third priority is on utilities." Utilities? "Something to help me move around. Gear to keep me in one piece. Cameras, better augs than what I have. I''m not averse to replacing bits and pieces of myself, but I''m guessing that kind of thing''s expensive." Daisy changed into an outfit better suited to leaving the house. Nice, tough jeans, a clean blouse, then a long-sleeved shirt with a few small pockets tossed on top of that. She picked through her closet until she found an old faux-leather jacket. Catalogue unlocked: Light Energy-Based Weapons Points reduced to: 80 Here, I think this will be suitable for you. Weapon unlock: Pillowfriend. Points reduced to: 30 A box appeared on the edge of her bed, and Daisy stared at it, then at the prompts. "Pillowfriend?" she asked before popping the box open. A gun sat within, small, compact, with a collapsed stock and folded sights atop it. Otherwise, the gun was sleek, bare metal with a small foregrip under the barrel. It almost looked more like a toy than anything else. It''s designed to be small and compact enough to hide away. Most of its functional parts, stock, sights, foregrip, are designed to fold into the weapon''s main body. It''s an energy weapon. The battery is usable for fifty full-powered shots. It''s rechargeable via induction charging or direct-to-serial-bus charging. There''s a wire in the box. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Daisy grabbed the gun, feeling its weight. She accepted the prompt to connect to it via her augs. A quick selection on the gun''s simplified app had the stock and sights and foregrip popping open. She grabbed it, tucked it against her shoulder, then aimed across the room. There was a little red-dot laser to help. "Nice. Will this kill aliens well?" It''ll kill smaller, weaker models without too much difficulty. The penetrative power isn''t all that impressive. You''re going to have to make up for lack of punch with additional accuracy or volume of fire. "It''ll do," Daisy said. She toggled the weapon to fold itself back up, then checked in the box for the wire. It was a plain charging cable, the sort she''d found in drawers her entire life for old devices. Most modern things didn''t do wired charging anymore, but the e-waste didn''t just disappear overnight, and there were public places for recharging still. There was also a strap within the box. She idly hooked it onto the two small tabs on her new gun, then slung it over her shoulder so that it rested by her hip. The gun''s app read as fully charged. She was about as ready as she could be. Stepping out of her room, Daisy picked up her dad''s shotgun and moved it from next to her door to next to her dad''s office. She knocked on the door. "I''m heading out," she said. "What?" came her dad''s tired reply. "I''ll be back in a bit. Don''t worry," Daisy replied before moving on. "The gun''s by your door," she called back. She paused by the entrance, next to the now-decomposing alien corpses, to put on a pair of comfortable walking shoes. Then she had to move the bodies aside. The house was dark, and the corridor outside of their apartment wasn''t much better. The only illumination came from glowing red emergency lights. She kicked both corpses out of her house, then closed the door. The lock didn''t engage, because it was purely electronic, which was more annoying than anything else. "So, where can I find some easy kills?" she asked. The building is on orange alert. The outer edge of the incursion reached this area some hours ago, but was mostly rebutted. You might have to leave the megabuilding complex in order to find a decent number of antithesis. Try heading west. Daisy took a moment to remember which direction was west, then she started that way. The elevators were down, of course, but the power being out didn''t stop the stairs from working. Three floors down, she left the stairwell and started towards the largest open space within the mega building. A large interior park-like space lined by multiple floors of shops and community areas and enough ads to outshine the sun. They glowed, even with the power cut out. From one of the upper floor balconies, Daisy was able to look down upon several hundred people all crammed into the bottom floor. They looked lost. Desperate. People in corpo outfits, the cream of the middle-class crop, all calling out to sweaty security for help. She could very easily imagine her own family down in that press. "Right," she said. "Let''s not go down there. You said west, right? Let''s find a way out of this place. The megabuildings had dozens, hundreds of different exits. Some were bridges across to the next buildings over, others were for cars or service vehicles. There were only four primary exits, though, each leading out into the larger city around them and located at the ''ground'' floor of the building. Those were shut. The heavy bulkhead doors, each weighing several tones, slammed down and unmoving. So Daisy found a convenient walkway a floor above and left through there. The big door was a selling point for the building''s security. She didn''t ever expect it to keep anything determined out, or in. The moment she stepped out into the wider world, Daisy knew something was wrong. The city was burning. There were thick clouds of dark smoke, illuminated from below and rising into the sky like ungodly pillars. The distant crack of gunfire was so frequent that it might as well have been raindrops on tin. Sirens wailed and she could faintly pick out screams. Above, aircraft, helicopters, and hovering cars raced back and forth. She stared for a moment. Are you okay? "Yeah. It''s just... this feels like more of a Monday than usual." *** Chapter Forty-Four - Jam and Drains Chapter Forty-Four - Jam and Drains "...About her tone, Samurai Stray Cat was exceptionally dismissive of protocols. I do not know if she was unaware or uncaring about them. Samurai Stray Cat assumed that the troops on site would act in the best, most professional manner, while herself carrying out whatever plan she had in place prior. Information sharing was not complete. Samurai Gomorrah seemed more careful and precise before the arrival of Samurai Stray Cat. It might be worth noting that Samurai Gomorrah seems willing to work with Family personnel initially, but her real feelings are hidden by a layer of polite obfuscation which Samurai Stray Cat lacks..." --Excerpt from field-investigation report of Officer Kennedy, 2057 *** I woke up early the next morning. Then I promptly started to snuggle with Lucy, which turned into more than cuddling, which turned into a pillow fight, which then turned into a more physical, less dressed version of ''more than cuddling'', and then that ended with me falling right back asleep. So really, my day only really started the crack of eleven-thirty. "What''s on the docket for today?" I asked as I lifted a shirt from the floor and gave it an experimental sniff. Eh, good enough. You have a few things to address. First, your point count has been slowly dropping, even with your daily allocations. Some points have come in from Burlington overnight, from the equipment you left there. "Not bad," I said. "How many points?" Seventy-two. I shrugged. Well, it was something. "Enough to buy a dozen or so Foxteeth and send them over to be used. I can see that generating some point-income over time. The price of Foxteeth-type handguns had been revised. I paused, pants halfway up. "What?" I asked. "Wait, what do you mean by that?" Foxteeth were like, the cheapest shitty handgun I could remember buying. They were a whole five points, and just enough to take out the lower-tiered antithesis. They were an alright civilian-grade gun otherwise. They were worth five points. As far as I was aware, they''d always been worth five points. The point value was reduced to four per unit. You seem confused about the change in price? "Yeah, no shit," I said as I tugged my pants on fully and started with the button. "I didn''t know things could change prices. Since when?" It''s always been the case. Though the market for Vanguard equipment is far more stable than any other market on Earth, mostly because it''s fed and influenced by outside sources. The value of an item is calculated from several factors. Its potency and level of danger, its material cost, the cost of transporting it, its technological level, and its perceived value. The Foxteeth''s technological edge was reduced by several recent initiatives pumping the civilian market with similar quality human-made guns. Therefore, the value was lowered. "And that''s normal?" If you had been alive in 2030 and were a Vanguard at the time, for example, the Foxteeth would be worth twice as much as it was when you first purchased one. My mind was a little blown at the moment. I didn''t know that things could change that way at all. But I supposed that in hindsight it kind of made sense. What would happen in a hundred years when there was a new samurai and the only things they could afford were handguns that were a century out of date? "Okay... well, alright. That''ll be something to wrap my head around later. So, uh, where were we? And where''s my belt?" Under the bed. And we were discussing today''s agenda. I got on all fours, then gestured for Myalis to continue while I searched. There are three matters you wished to look into today. The state of your mech was the first. You also wanted to get into contact with See-Three over the matter of your prosthetics clinic. Finally, you wanted to observe the state of the repairs on the sewage system. "Ah, that," I said. "Alright, so... any idea of what I should do first?" I couldn''t find the belt, at least until Mister Tentacles slithered it over to me, the belt held at the end of a long tentacle. "Thanks." I would suggest looking into the matter of the sewer systems first. That is the project with the greatest impact and likelihood of causing lasting harm. I fit my belt on, then nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. Let me grab breakfast before anything else. Or lunch? Whatever. Can you ping the Family, let Eric know that I''ll be driving over this afternoon?" Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Message sent. "Thank you," I said as I slipped out of the bedroom with just one final glance back. We... needed a cleaning person. Lucy was picking up as we went, and the place was brand-new, so it wasn''t like there had been much time for grime and messiness to build up, but still, things were getting a little dirty. Heck, I wouldn''t trust the water in the pool in the corner. I found Lucy in the kitchen, leaning over the counter with a plate with toast in front of her and a pair of steaming mugs next to that. "Hey," she said. "Hey," I replied before swiping a piece of toast and making my way to the fridge. I opened it and stared at all the food within. I was probably fine with just one piece of toast, but it was nice seeing a full fridge anyway. "You okay?" I asked. "Sore," she said. I grinned smugly. Yeah, she would be. "You''ll be alright?" "Mhm," she said. "Better if someone stopped stealing my toast." "Who did that? I''ll catch the fiend and dangle them upside down by the toes off the side of the building," I declared while waving my toast around. Lucy rolled her eyes. "What are you doing today, toast-thief?" "I need to check up on the sewer thing. So that means visiting the Family first thing, then maybe checking up on things myself right after, to make sure they''re not fucking with me." Lucy nodded. "Anything I can help with?" "Hmm, I don''t think so? But if you want, could you check up on Burlington? I don''t know if there''s much we can do from here, but I think they murdered a few aliens overnight, so either they''re clearing things out, or things have gone wrong." "I''ll see what I can do," Lucy said. "I was supposed to call some of my contacts over there this morning, but someone kept me from them." "I''ll hang them next to the person stealing your toast," I promised. I gave Lucy''s cheek a quick peck, then swiped her other piece of toast. She screamed, so out of the great mercy in my heart, I only took a huge bite from it before putting it back on her plate. "Gotta go!" I said past a full mouth. Lucy laughed and I slipped out of the kitchen and started through the house. It was surprisingly busy considering it wasn''t even noon yet. Some of the kittens were gathered together in the living room, sitting around a low table. "Hey Cat," Junior said as she looked up from a tablet. "You''re heading out?" "Yeah," I said. "What are you all doing?" "Grasshopper''s homework," she said. Then she frowned. "Did you do yours?" "Uh... I''m too busy for that," I said. "She''s going to be disappointed," Junior said. It was accusatory. "Come on, it''s not a big deal," I said. "She''ll be disappointed in you," she said before dropping it entirely. She sounded almost like she was pitying me. I slipped out before I could let that get to me. The homework was all stuff like math anyway. As if I''d ever need help with that. I had more than just a calculator jammed into my head. I found my coat by the entrance, and my helmet which I slipped on. I won''t help you with the homework. Grumbling to myself, I found my way over to my bike, then sighed at the bench, which was covered in a drizzling of water from the constant rain. I swept it off with my sleeve as best I could, then hopped onto the bike. Before taking off, I sent a quick text to Gomorrah, just letting her know that I was heading out to meet with the Family. It wasn''t that I didn''t trust the Family, it was that I trusted them a lot more if a fire-nun came in to avenge me if they did something fucky. Gomorrah was probably well-versed in the biblical sort of vengeance that I figured would keep even corpos in line. I got a thumbs-up emote back just as I was taking off. The trip over to the Family HQ wasn''t all that far, though it was raining hard enough you could drink your fill just by craning your neck back. It was a decent amount of time to look into things, specifically what Myalis could gather about the whole sewer situation. It seems like repairs started in earnest yesterday morning, though most of those repairs meant cutting off the water supply of areas adjoining the worst-hit parts of the city. "That''ll leave lots of pissed off people behind," I said. It''s necessary. Maybe so, but unless people were convinced that things were getting better fast, it might just be a way to piss off the average New Montrealler even more than they already were. "Let''s just get on top of things," I said. It was time to put on a brave face and do some politicking. *** Chapter Forty-Five - Corpo Shit Show Chapter Forty-Five - Corpo Shit Show "Never assume that corporate incompetence is corporate maliciousness. Corporations don''t care about you or yours. They don''t aim to hurt you. The reason you were hurt was because not hurting you would require a sacrifice of effort or money or both that''s too big to be excused." --Anonymous PR specialist, 2028 *** I parked my bike on the rooftop parking lot, slipping into a free space that was ''reserved for visiting samurai'' according to a small sign hanging above it. It was right next to the handicapped parking space too, so not a big walk from there to the door. I silently appreciated that it was on the far side of the reserved handicapped parking spots. There was a small space in my heart for cripples, and I appreciated that they didn''t block the spot off just for some upjumped samurai or whatever. Interestingly enough, it wasn''t Eric who ran out to greet me, but some woman that I didn''t recognize. She was in corpo chic, a tight skirt and a weird top that had large openings on the side that showed off the curve of her hips. I didn''t let my eye linger. Who knows if Lucy had convinced Myalis to tattle on me. "Hey," I said as I pushed the thought aside. Instead I was wondering what Lucy would look like in that kind of outfit. "Hello, Stray Cat," she said. There wasn''t nearly as much formality there as I''d come to expect from Eric. "You''re a new face," I said. "Is Eric busy?" "Ah, Eric was promoted," she said. "Though he will still be available as your liaison. Did you come here to speak with him?" "Hmm? Nah. It''s fine. I called ahead. Well, my AI called ahead. I''m here to see how shit''s going." She nodded, then gestured to the entrance a little ways behind her. "I''m prepared to give you a summary of events, if you wish? Eric and a few of the others working this case are making time to meet you in boardroom seventeen-G." "I''ll take that summary, sure," I said. "Also, what''s your name?" The woman smiled. "Piper, ma''am. I''ve been working here for almost a year now. If my inexperience is an issue, I''m certain Eric can fill you in better." "It''s fine," I said. "So, summarise away?" Piper nodded and I followed as she started towards the entrance. "The majority of the projects only really started yesterday morning. Prior to that we completed a partial sweep of the entire sewer system. Four locations were discovered with hidden Antithesis threats, though only at a yellow-danger level. Cleanup teams were dispatched in the afternoon and they''ve reported successes on all fronts." That was... concerning. Probably not all that surprising, though. Antithesis needed biomass. Shit had plenty. "Is there anything in place to notice that before it turns into a clusterfuck beneath our feet?" "There are systems in place. Or there should be. They were mostly offline, malfunctioning, or missing," Piper said. "Of course," I grumbled. "In any case, the surveys should be complete by this time tomorrow." "Slower than I thought it would be," I said. "Yes. We''re having a difficult time with the hiring process. And the payment structure is complicated by the discovery of those nests." "How''s that?" I asked. Piper shrugged, then held the door open for me. "Antithesis presence means that the survey work is now high-risk. That means better pay, but it also limits the workers that are certified for danger pay to begin with. I think we''re having the surveyors that were meant to continue exploratory work instead look into double-checking previous areas for a more complete layout." I nodded along. "Thanks. So survey work is all well and good. What about the actual work?" "That''s coming along. But we''re running into more complications. Most of them are expected. Some of the infrastructure around the sewage facilities is crumbling and will need repairs. Some of the equipment is sub-par. Some of it is ancient. Then there are some areas that are owned by specific corporate entities." "Wait, parts of the sewer system are corpo-owned?" I asked. "Only some segments. But yes." I shook my head. There was no way having that kind of stuff be the property of a corp was a good thing. "We ran into some issues there. Here, if I may?" Piper asked. My augs pinged as I received a file a moment later. Myalis vetted it in a fraction of a second. Opening it, I discovered a rather dry report, some sixty pages long, about one specific two hundred metre long segment of the sewers. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Fortunately, there was a summary. Unfortunately, it read like the summary of some unfunny comedy. The section was run by a numbers corp called D-UCK corp ltd. Yesterday, at around 10am, they were contacted and told that there was a nest in their section of the sewers. At 11am, they denied that. At 11:30, the Family double-checked, and confirmed it. But then the survey team was chased out by the corpo security who''d been informed that ''something'' was happening in their underground section. Not what, just that there was a reason to send security down. At 11:45, the Family got in touch with their CEO, who lives in Calgary. He said he''d look into it. At 12:03, a security member was eaten. At 12:09, the company-wide security level went from green to orange. At 12:34, the company released a notice that they were going to begin maintenance on the lower levels... in three weeks. At 1:32, the head of security demanded to know what was going on. At 2:12, he was informed that nothing was going on. At 2:13, he said he had the corpse of a member that said otherwise. The HQ said that that wasn''t confirmation. It took until 2:31 for confirmation to arrive, from accounting, because the dead employee''s time charts didn''t add up on account of him being dead, and dead people don''t get overtime pay. This was enough confirmation that HQ raised the warning to red, which finally let security allow the Family''s waiting team to step in. It was, basically, a hot mess of conflicting procedures, misinformation, people shoving their hands over their ears and screaming, and probably more that I couldn''t be bothered to read into. "This kind of shit common?" I asked. "Yes," was Piper''s reply. "It''s mostly factored into our estimates on repair times and cost, but this kind of event can sometimes be solved in minutes, and sometimes it''ll drag on for days." Right. I''d never been happier to foist off some work onto someone else. If I had to deal with all of this, a lot more people would be dead. It would probably be bad for the economy, or something. "Next time you run into something like this, let them know that unless they want me to give the mayoral treatment to their board of directors, they''d better have a damned good reason for preventing us from fixing the city." Piper blinked, then flushed. "J-just to be clear, you want us to threaten to kill the board of any corporation that interferes with the proceedings?" "No, I want you to threaten to tell me about it. Let me do the actual, direct threatening," I said. I didn''t need the Family using me as a whip to get the corps to move. It was another thing if they politely informed me, and then I went in and started whipping of my own volition. "Noted," Piper said. "Cool, cool," I said. "Now, anything else? You didn''t go into the actual repairs." "Those are coming along. The start was a little slow, and we expect to run out of essential materials before the day is over, but we have two teams on supply-acquisition already. We''re starting with the areas that are least damaged." "Not the worst-off parts?" I asked. "Repairs require that we divert sewage flows. Diverting from an area in grade B, that is, in need of maintenance but not urgently, to an area that''s grade F, that is, uh..." "Fucked?" "Essentially. Usually it''s best to have some areas that are fully functional to divert into. We''re fixing those first since the other areas are already in need of nearly full replacements. Mostly this is relying on the suggestions of experts." I nodded along. "Myalis, can you make sure these experts aren''t just fixing stuff for their own benefit first?" I asked. It seems like everything is actually running according to procedures. I can''t find any purposeful malfeasance or diversions of labour for personally-motivated reasons. That was good enough, I supposed. I couldn''t expect perfection here. Just having things underway was a big comfort. We were definitely going to run into more trouble, but it was a start, and if people knew things were going to get better, then it would calm down the likelihood of people rioting. Piper and I paused before the glass door of a boardroom. Eric was within, as well as a few others. "This is it, Stray Cat," Piper said. "I''m glad I could be of service." "Yeah. Thanks Piper," I said. "Now, let''s get to the boring part." *** Chapter Forty-Six - Getting Down To Your Business Chapter Forty-Six - Getting Down To Your Business "Why do cats push things off of high places? I don''t know, you''ll have to ask a cat." --Miss Kitty K. @, Dog whisperer, 2031 *** I noped out of the meeting about twenty minutes after it started. Honestly, I''m impressed you made it that long. "Me too," I muttered exhaustedly. It felt like I''d spent hours in there. I knew it was only twenty minutes though, because there was a wall clock that tick-tick-ticked menacingly in the corner, and I was practically counting the seconds go by. That had lasted until I remembered that I was a samurai and I wasn''t no one''s bitch. I could up and leave, and that''s exactly what I''d done. "Stray Cat?" Piper asked as I started through the corridors. She ran after me, an impressive feat with the heels she was wearing. Then again, it looked like she might have cybernetic ankles. "Yo," I said, then I paused. "Are you single?" Piper blinked. "Yes?" she said before her cheeks started to redden. "Are you, uh, asking me out?" "Huh? No, I have a girlfriend, sorry. Just asking to make sure," I said. "Make sure of what? Uh, if you don''t mind me asking." I shrugged. "Look, sometimes I run into wayward and lost souls... very gay ones. It''s good to keep a running tally of potential people for them to meet, you know?" "I... don''t think I do." "Huh, well, whatever. Anyway, I''m heading out. I''ll be seeing to the sewers right away and in person. Honestly, I don''t know how corpo-types do it. I''d rather wade in shit than sit in on a meeting like that for another hour." "I... see," Piper said. I think I''d set her off balance there. "That''s fine. Let us know if you notice any issues that the Family needs to address." "Yup," I said before I started walking off. Right, it was time to check out the sewers themselves. Though I wasn''t entirely sure how. The system spanned, literally, the entire city, and I had no idea where to start. I wasn''t going to just dive into the first manhole I found. My brain hiccuped as I reprocessed that last bit. I shook it off and rephrased what I was about to ask Myalis. "I need to hover around and make it clear that there''s a Samurai looking into things," I said. "It''ll keep people honest." I left Piper behind and made my way outside where it was, predictably, raining again. I started towards my bike, then stopped. There was a car parked in the handicapped spot. Parked at an angle so that it literally took up three spots. It was a nice car, one of those extremely sexy models that looked like it was expensive just to look at. The kind of car that people bought posters of. "Myalis, who''s car is that?" I asked. One moment... ah, it''s the car of one of the CEOs of Sunrise Technologies. They have an appointment with the Family at the moment. "Wait, the fucks that stole from me?" Yes. "Hey, Myalis, is there anything... that way?" I gestured to the side. Below? Nothing in that exact location, no. There''s an unoccupied terrace fifty-nine floors below. "Mhm," I said. I walked past the car, got on my bike, then started to push the bike around. It was tricky, but I eventually had the front of my bike pressed right up against the post between the doors of the car. Then I turned the bike on and gave it some gas. It wanted to twist to the side, but I kept it level with the car, and soon my torque overcame the weight of the car, and it started to move... sideways. The wheels made a disturbing chuffing sound as they scraped along the tarmac, at least until we got to the end of the roof. The car tipped up onto its side, then disappeared over the edge. "Oops," I said. "My bad." Very funny. "Thank you," I said before taking off in earnest. "I''m glad you appreciate my humour." I caught a faint and distant ''boom'' as the car hit the ground far below. I just hoped that I didn''t block traffic or something down there. Oh well, the car was probably insured. My first destination was the City of New Montreal Sewage and Maintenance Headquarters. I... couldn''t remember the name of anyone that worked there, but I figured I''d remember their faces well enough, and that big room with the giant screen. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. I parked somewhere nice, then got off my bike and headed in. It didn''t take long to reach the headquarters. Surprisingly, there were about ten times as many people waiting in the lobby, all of them looking about ready to murder the poor guy behind the counter. I waltz past them, earning more than one curious look. I was aware of pictures being taken, and I didn''t really care. I wasn''t deep in when someone came running out to greet me. "Oh hey, it''s you!" I said as I pointed to the guy. It was... button up, the guy with the button up shirt that was an accountant or something. "Miss Samurai. Hello, what are you, ah, doing here?" he asked as he fell in next to me. Button-up looked like he hadn''t changed shirts in a while. Had I ever asked him what his name was? Did it matter? He wasn''t cute enough for it to matter, I decided. "Here to make sure things are moving in a forwardly direction. Did any of the c-suite come back?" "No? Ah, I heard that one of them... walked off a building." "Really? Wow, small world." "Pardon?" "Nevermind," I said. "So, Button-up, how''s things? Is shit starting to flow downstream at last, or are things still messed up in a bad way?" "Ah, I think things are better? It''s a lot busier," he said. "We''re hiring and on-boarding people as quickly as we can. There''s basically no training. Everyone already here was promoted, then promoted again, which is nice, but it doesn''t change how much work there is to do." "That''s a shame," I said. "But the work is getting done?" He nodded quickly. "We''re working non-stop. I haven''t been home in two days. I think some of us won''t be seeing our families again until this whole thing is done, but it''s... it''s a lot?" "Huh," I said. When I set off to make people fix the city''s problems for me, I''d never considered that there would actually be consequences for normal folk. Actually, I was generally pretty bad at thinking about consequences. "I''m... actually sorry to hear that," I said. "I''d be pretty pissed if I couldn''t see my family for that long. Or if I couldn''t go back home. You must be very pent up." "Huh?" "Yeah. But hey, you''re doing good work. Are things coming along?" We''d reached the command room by then, and I was met at the entrance by... that guy who was the head of maintenance. He was wearing a tag, fortunately. Ethan Brown. "They''re moving," Brown said. "Not as quick as I''d like, but much faster than I''d hoped." He nodded to me. "I don''t know what kind of fire you lit under the asses of the Family and their sort, but they''ve been hustling to get work done. I think almost every plumber in the city has work now, and plenty of others too." "That''s good," I said. "It''ll keep people busy on top of fixing things." It was probably good for the economy or something too. I gave myself a pat on the back for that one. "It''s costing the city billions," Brown said. "But it was going to cost the city that much anyway. It would be a lot less if things weren''t so under maintained to begin with, but there''s not much we can do about that now." I followed him into the command room and then paused to take in the big sewer map on the far wall. There was still red. Lots of red, and now some of it was flashing purple, which seemed somehow more urgent. But, at the same time, there was a lot more orange than there had been, and the number of pins showing where workers were located had increased exponentially. "Looks like you guys are actually getting shit done," I said. Brown grunted. "We''re trying, ma''am, and I hope that it''ll count for something in the end." "I think it will," I said. My entire life, I''d been left to fend for me and mine because no one was trying much of anything to help. On the rare occasion when someone would try... well, it counted for a lot, even if it didn''t amount to much. "Is there anything you need me to look at? People you need me to threaten for things to get done faster?" "You want to threaten people?" Button-up asked. "Want to? Yes, actually. And also, it''s a great way to actually get things done, I''ve discovered." *** Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Three Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Three It only took her a few moments to realise that she had no idea of what to do. Fortunately, that was easily remedied. "Hey, Lynus. Where''s the biggest source of trouble?" I don''t have access to direct communications to any satellite network, or to any non-public network systems. But, from the heatmaps available on open news websites, your home is on the outer edge of the orange zone. There are reports on social media of small groups of antithesis penetrating local mega buildings. "Yeah, but I''m looking for big numbers," Daisy said. She had an eye up to the sky, where a drizzle of rain was starting to fall. She wasn''t sure it would do anything for the massive fires further in. Perhaps smaller numbers are what you should aim for, at least for the moment. She shook her head, tucking her Pillowfriend''s stock against her shoulder. "I don''t do things by halves," she said. I see. In that case, ground level is where you''ll find most adversaries. Head north and east, towards the fires. "Easy enough," she said. It really wasn''t all that easy to get to the ground floor, but she did manage it, taking some emergency exits without a care for the alarms she set off, then crossing over to a smaller building via sky bridge. That building was a commercial centre, no housing, plenty of stores and offices. It had a lot more walkability than her home building, and that made it all the easier to get down to the ground. The streets were a mess. They''d always been a mess, but right then it was worse than usual. Cars were parked along the sides of the road, moved there automatically by their auto-drivers to make room for emergency vehicles to take over the middle of the street. She saw APCs rushing by, mostly heading in the same direction as her. Ambulances were rushing the other way, lights and sirens blaring. The few people she saw out were running, heads low as if that would help them any. Two blocks until you''re at the cordon around the red zone. "Cordon?" she asked. Incursion cordons are a standard operating procedure. A cordon is created around the centre of an incursion and lined with inwards-pointing defences. It keeps the incursion contained. "Ah, alright," Daisy said. She supposed that made sense. The first she saw of the cordon wasn''t the cordon itself, but the road leading up to it. Forklifts were grabbing cars, lifting them up, and pulling them away. It cleared room on the road for the massive tents and temporary buildings going up all along the road. APCs were emptying out troops all over, and the air above was filled with hovering drones. There was a non-stop cackle of loudspeakers as troops talked between each other and orders were relayed. It was chaotic, but chaos that was at once contained and somewhat orderly. Distant cracks of gunshots lead her deeper in. Daisy walked as if she was allowed to be there, and as long as she didn''t step into the way of a tank, she figured she''d be getting pretty far in before things became troublesome. That''s how she found the wall. It was a temporary thing, obviously. An entire movable wall that had been moved on the back of a pair of semis that were shoved off to one side. The wall had a large gate in its middle, and two stubby towers on the ends. It was some five metres tall, all metal, with a walkway near the top, and a second perimeter made of freshly crushed cars right behind it. Surprisingly, no one stopped her as she made her way up to the wall, then climbed it. The people manning the guns on the tower were shooting in long bursts, and the tracers were lighting up the buildings all around in flashes of green. It wasn''t until she was halfway up that someone noticed her on the wall and ran over. "Hey! You can''t be here!" "Yeah, obviously I can," Daisy shouted back. The noise of so many guns going off was almost deafening. She made a mental note to replace her ears first thing. The soldier grabbed her by the arm, or tried to. Daisy juked to the side, then stepped past them. She was faster than someone wearing full kit. It was only normal, the soldiers out here were wearing camo gambesons, thickly padded suits probably designed to resist the bites of antithesis. It made them move slowly, and made them look incredibly chubby. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Daisy scurried to the very top, then finally took in the red zone. It was a mess. Lithium batteries were burning in cars, buildings had been smashed by countless missed shots. Glass had come down from some skyscrapers and now carpeted the ground, thick enough to blanket the road in some places. And then there were the aliens. Dead and dying, some rushing further in, where the spotlights didn''t quite illuminate. It made every shadow look like it was alive. Daisy moves along the wall, slipping between soldiers to keep away from the one still chasing her. She came to a small space where no one was standing, placed her feet, and brought her gun up. "Fifty shots, huh," she muttered. She waited. It didn''t take long for the antithesis to test the wall again. A small flood of them rushing out of the dark, flowing around burning cars and over alien corpses. The machine guns opened up, and so did Daisy. Her Pillowfriend had no kick, and no real sound to it either. It made up for it with a light show, bright, searing red beams that cut across the distance in a blank, outshining the tracers. "Oh, shit," someone said. Daisy pulled her gun back and up. "How many points was that?" she asked. Twenty. "That''s it?" she asked. You only scored two kills. Seven hits. Two misses, but your grouping is improving. "The glow makes it easy to walk your shots," she said. "So, you weren''t lying when you said it doesn''t have a lot of punch." "Hey!" Daisy blinked, then turned to a soldier who was eyeing her through a full-faced helmet. "Are you a samurai? If so, you need to report to--" Daisy tuned them out, as she did anyone that didn''t matter. "Lynus, I don''t think I have what I need to stand down there. Flexible or not, there''s too many." What are you looking for? "I''m going to need armour. Better gear." She loked her jaws, then suppressed a winced at a few more gunshots going off nearby. "New ears too. Make self-augmentation a priority, I don''t need tinnitus." "Ma''am," the soldier said. Daisy blinked at them, finally sparing some attention for the soldier. "What?" "We insist that new samurai stay away from the front lines. Please. There are people here to assist you an--" "I don''t need people," Daisy said. She walked past the soldier, starting for the next set of stairs down from the wall. She only paused when she noticed another wave coming. This time she scored three quick kills. It still wasn''t enough, but it was better than nothing. Some assistance might not hurt. "Having to deal with people will," Daisy said. She considered staying on the wall. It seemed relatively safe for the moment. In fact, she paused by the stairs and turned back only to march up to the soldier. "Get me an extension." "What?" "An extension cord. A wire? Something to plug things into? You know what I mean?" The soldier hesitated, then nodded and ran off. Are you going to get help after all? "No. I''m going to make enough points here to get some basics. Then I''m going to head off on my own. How many full-power shots do I have left?" Nineteen. She nodded. "I''m going to need a better gun, too. This one will serve as a holdout in the meantime, I guess." She eyed the space on the other side of the wall. There were people over there. This was a huge chunk of the city that was being cordoned off. Which meant that they were probably only dealing with the few, weaker aliens making it to the edges still. If she wanted the big points, she''d need to dive in deeper. The soldier returned with an extension cable just as Daisy''s gun was running on fumes. She plugged it in to recharge, then appropriated another soldier''s rifle. An hour of this, she decided. She''d hold this wall, upgrade herself and her kit for one hour. And then she''d be moving out, past the cordite-filled air and into the ruins. If she absolutely had to do some work, then she''d do it right. *** Chapter Forty-Seven - Feline Fringe Chapter Forty-Seven - Feline Fringe "I know it was very hard for you not to accept those bribes. That was very big of you, and I''m proud. Here, you can have this. "Yes, it is a gold star! Good job!" --Grasshopper, to the CEO of GeneriCorp, 2056 *** I trudged home about three hours after dark, stinking of shit and probably sweat, and far more exhausted than I should have been. I was on vacation, for fuck''s sake. Groaning, I kicked off my boots by the entrance. I''d bully one of the kittens into rinsing them off later. Then another one to do it again, but right that time. My coat went onto a rack by the entrance (when had Lucy gotten that?) and then I slipped further into my place on socked feet. I only started to suspect that something was weird when I was nearing the living room. It was quiet. My place was many things, but quiet wasn''t one of them. The kittens had sleep schedules scattered all around the clock at random, and none of them were discreet or quiet for a single day in their lives. I tugged my Trenchmaker out from its holster. "Myalis, should I be worried?" I asked. No. At least, not to the extent that you need to be armed. I lowered the gun, then slid it away as I entered the living room. Everyone was here, and sitting on the floor. The couches had been pushed back so that the centre of the room was cleared out. Cushions were piled onto the floor. I had no idea where they''d come from, because they didn''t look like anything we had. The kittens were laid out across the room, with... paper notepads in hand or on their laps, and pencils. Old-school graphite pencils, with the yellow sides and little pink eraser on the top, like something out of a museum. "Cat!" Lucy said. She waved from a spot on the far end of the room, then she patted the edge of the cushion she was on. "There''s room for you here." "Hello, Stray Catherine," said the only person who could have orchestrated this. Grasshopper was at the front of the room, a proper blackboard behind her. She was dressed in a summer dress, deep blue, with crooked stars across it. She was waving with her two right hands while her left was on her hip, and her other left arm was writing on the board behind her. What jumped to me more than the extra arms were her glasses. A pair of thick things, like the bottoms of old glass bottles, but cut so that they had hundreds of tiny facets that were filled with reflections of her glowing eyes. "Uh, hey Grasshopper," I said. "What''s all this?" "We''re learning about statistics," Grasshopper said. She clapped her lower hands together. I squinted. I couldn''t tell which pair were her original arms. "You should join us!" "I think I''m good," I said. "Statistics are exceptionally useful to know," she said. "They might be nothing but lies, but they''re lies that approximate truth. For example, everyone, what''s the statistical likelihood that Catherine has done her homework?" Every hand raised, even Lucy''s. "Hey," I said. "Miss, what''s the statistical likelihood that Cat''s the one that brought in that fart smell?" Junior asked. "I was saving the city," I snapped. Grasshopper clapped her hands. She smiled, but it was so serene and nice that I really couldn''t tell if she was mocking me or not. "That''s good. I''m very proud of you. Even during your time off, you''re trying to help people, and I''m sure you''re making a difference." I felt my cheeks warming up and I glanced away. I couldn''t meet her weird bug eyes, not when she was praising me like that. I glanced over at Lucy, and she was looking at me like she had ideas, which really wasn''t better. "Yeah well, whatever. I''m gonna go take a shower and get changed. You guys have fun." "Miss Hopper, do you mind if I go help her?" Lucy asked. "Of course, Lucy." Grasshopper said. I slipped into our bedroom, with Lucy coming up behind me. "Did you want help picking out something to wear?" she asked. "You can jump in the shower, if you want, I''ll find something." "That''d be nice," I said. "It''d be nicer if you joined me yourself." If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Lucy came closer? "Oh?" she asked before climbing onto the tip of her toes to give me a kiss. "Maybe later." "Later?" I asked. "Grasshopper''s here," she said. "And you really do smell like fart. It''s not exactly a turn on. Go on, hero, get yourself cleaned up, then you can complain to me about your day." I grumbled, but she had a point. I really did smell like fart. I cast off my gear, peeled out of my skinsuit, then jumped in the shower. Just for good measure, I tossed my gear into the corner and used the telescoping showerhead to wash it down. Lucy came in with some fresh clothes which she set to one side of the sink, then she jumped onto the other. I wondered if she just planned on watching and was thinking of putting on a show when I got a call on my augs. From Lucy. "Yes?" I answered. "Hey," Lucy said. "Did you want to talk?" "I... I can literally hear you out of the shower," I said. "Yeah, but I can''t. The water''s too loud. You''re the one with the good ears. Also, don''t forget to wash the back of your knees." I shook my head and continued my very unfun shower. "So, when did Grasshopper arrive?" "Just before lunch. She brought food. Well, no, she brought ingredients, then made the food. It was weird, to be honest. Tasty though, that chick knows how to cook. Too bad she''s into men." "Really?" I asked. "Mhm. Only took her like, half an hour, and she made this stir-fry with real chicken and everything," Lucy said. I started to rub some shampoo into my hair, a handful, because I didn''t need any stink lingering. I still hadn''t recoloured my bang. I''d have to look into that soon, the colour was fading. "Sounds like I missed out," I said as I dug my nails into my scalp. "Today turned into a long day." "Sewer stuff?" Lucy asked. "Yeah. I didn''t even get to the clinic stuff. That''ll have to wait for tomorrow." "Oh! I got ahead of you there. At least until Grasshopper arrived. I invited See-Three and some of her friends to check the floor below out. They were properly spooked when they learned they''d be squished between two samurai''s homes." "Did they come?" I asked. Lucy shrugged. "They said they''d be here tomorrow. Also, I think once she thought about it, then got used to the idea. It''s not a bad spot to be in." "Do you think the clinic will need the whole floor?" "Weren''t they going to just use a little storefront?" Lucy asked. "If that was enough, then I don''t see why they''d need that much more room. Maybe some more, but not a whole floor." I agreed. And it would be so much easier and cheaper to only have to fix up one corner of the floor below for the prosthetics clinic. The rest of the space... meh. It could stay empty for now. We''d figure out something to do with it later. "Think we could fit more shops downstairs?" "What, like a merch store?" Lucy asked. "No, not that," I said as I rinsed off. I gestured after shutting the water, and Lucy grabbed a towel and tossed it into the shower so I could dry off while still warm. "I think I could use some space for Kitten stuff," Lucy said. It took me a split second to catch on to what she meant. Kittens as in the group we''d left in Burlington. Which... we''d kind of left in the hands of a sex android and some dozen volunteers. It had worked out well enough at the time. "You want to make something of that?" "You know, I always dreamed of running my own gang," Lucy said. "This is basically the same idea, isn''t it?" "If you''re going to make it a whole gang, you''ll need a better name than Kittens," I said. I pinched a corner of the towel and used it to wipe out the inside of my cat ears. Water always got caught in there. "The Killer Kittens?" Lucy tried. I laughed. "Still too cute." "Well, whatever. There aren''t any rules against having a cute gang." "I feel like there might be," I said. "Like, unspoken rules, but still rules." "You try then," Lucy goaded. "Hmm, the Cat-astrophes?" Lucy threw my underwear at my face. "Veto!" she said. "Now get dressed, because Grasshopper has to dress you down for not doing your homework!" *** Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Four Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Four Separating herself from the soldiers was almost hard. They didn''t want her to leave. It almost came to blows, because Daisy decided that if these grown-ass men needed a little girl to protect them so much, then maybe they didn''t deserve to be on the front lines after all. She was testing her grip on her pistol when reason, and order from above, finally came through and they let her leave. "How many?" she asked. You have nine hundred and twelve points. For an hour''s work, that wasn''t too bad. It was mostly from little models, and a few shots she took at some fliers. Her firepower didn''t add too much to what the wall could handle, really. But the soldiers seemed to enjoy the bright actinic flashes of her gun going off and frying aliens from afar. Now she was on the other side of the wall, out in the open. Daisy glanced up over her shoulder and at the wall itself. The soldiers up there were almost impossible to see, especially with the strong lights in front of them. She narrowed her eyes, then took off jogging towards a nearby building. These first few minutes were where she''d be the most vulnerable. "Okay. Here''s the order of things. I need armour. Something light and that''ll let me move." An armoured skinsuit? "Sure," she said. "Make sure it has some pockets." Noted. "Next. Guns. Bigger ones... Actually, scratch that. Can we do cybernetics?" Of course. What are you thinking about? "I want better eyes. I''ll need better lungs. And I want something to heal in case I get hit," Daisy said. "In that order." That''ll start to cost a lot. Especially if you still want weapons and armour. She considered it, then nodded. "Eyes first. And... can we do something to let me control things with my mind?" Yes. That''ll be costly, however, but I''m certain we can fit it into your budget. Perhaps wait on the lungs? "Alright," Daisy said as she slipped into a building. It was some sort of office space, with the walls torn off the front which gave her plenty of access to the interior. She crouched a little as she ran. The first washroom she found past the lobby was good enough, she figured, even if the lights were off within. The emergency light over the door cast everything in a deep, unsightly red, but it was enough to see by. Alright! Let''s start with that suit. Here are some options. Daisy found herself looking at a small screen with several suits on it. A flick down of her eyes let her scroll down, and down... and down. "How many are here?" she asked. Each suit looked like a form-fitting uniform. Some looked like they were painted on... specifically, painted on a very precise image of herself. She glanced down at her belly. She was thin. She took all the meds to stay that way, and her extracurriculars were generally pretty physically demanding, enough to keep her fit. Her diet was pretty careful too... except for on Sundays. There was a tiny bit of a ponch on her belly, one that she''d never been that self-conscious about until she had to look at a thousand images of herself in a suit of armour that made diving suits look baggy. "Maybe something a little bit armoured?" she asked. The images instantly changed. Still skinsuits, but this time with slightly segmented armour over the chest and legs and shoulders, with gritty pads over the knees and elbows. The added armour filled her out a little, and hid things some more. "Alright, how many variations are here?" she asked. Nineteen million, and counting. "And counting?" I''m designing more as I notice the parts that you react positively to. Daisy blinked. "You pick, then," she said. The screen flicked up a final time, then stopped on a suit of armour. It was pure, startling white, with some red highlights next to pale-grey armoured plates. It cut a... heroic figure. And more importantly, came with an armoured helmet, with a visor across the front and a mask. The helmet is upgraded to have a filtration unit, and a low-light vision system as well as a targeting system. It''s slight, but should be helpful. The overall suit should be resistant to low-calibre weapons. Not proof, but resistant. The armoured sections are bullet-proof, at least up to smaller rifle calibre rounds. "Alright," Daisy said. "Get it." Catalogue unlocked: Light Armours Points reduced to: 812 Here, I think this will be suitable for you. Armour unlock: Lightly armoured skinsuit ''Rose Petal'' Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.Points reduced to: 662 The suit appeared in a box. She started to put it on, tossing aside her clothes as she went. It wasn''t her PJs, but it wasn''t uncomfortable either. "We''re aiming for something more like power-armour in the long run. Light stuff still." Understood. The eye upgrades next? Please set the helmet aside for now. It''ll interfere with the eye upgrade. "I need better eyes," Daisy said. "Call it three hundred points worth." I see. I can get you a catalogue and eyes for that price. Part of the cost for new eyes will come from the mechanisms necessary to install them in the field. "What sort of mechanism?" Daisy asked. You... are replacing your current eyes. "I''ll just rip them out, if that''s what you need," Daisy said. That... is a little extreme. "How many points would it save me?" she asked. Twenty. "That''s a lot," Daisy replied. "I could get eyes that are twenty points better." Please, at least consider local anaesthetics. You''ll need some minor medical assistance even if you were to extract your eyes yourself. The socket would be damaged. "Then give me something to heal," Daisy said. She walked over to the sink and tested it. There was water. She started opening drawers, but found no paper towels, so she kicked open a toilet paper dispenser and grabbed one of the fresher rolls within. "What am I getting here?" she asked. An infection, if you plan on using that to assist you with any sort of eye extraction. Daisy sighed. She hated it when adults stood between her and the most effective path to something. She''d hoped her AI, at least, wouldn''t be the same. "Fine. I guess twenty points isn''t much." Thank you. It''ll be significantly less traumatic. "I don''t have time for trauma," Daisy said. Not even on Sundays? "Why would I waste a Sunday on being traumatised?" she asked. I see. If you''re going through with this... the control system you spoke of earlier. I was going to suggest an electro-impulse detection rig. A system placed over your scalp, or within, that detects patterns of thought and translates them into usable data. "Oh," Daisy said. "I was imagining an implant." I figured as much. That''ll be... another operation. But if you''re going to rip your eyes out of your skull you might as well use the hole. "Reasonable," Daisy said. No... no I don''t think it is. But I''m not going to stop you either. Let me tally everything up. In the meantime, please describe what you''re looking for in your new eyes? "Range, colour-accuracy, low-light vision, better interfacing with my augs. Or... I suppose I should get new augs outright." I can fold those into the interface you''re looking for. Speaking of which, why are you looking into that kind of interface? "I want to control guns with my mind," Daisy said. "Big ones. That float." I... see. I think I can get something like that to work. This will likely drain all of your points, however. You might have to wait on the new weapons and other equipment you want and need. "Well, I''m in the right place for making more points, aren''t I?" Daisy asked. "Let''s aim for stuff that''s good enough that I won''t have to replace it. I don''t want to rip my eyes out twice in one day." Lynus didn''t seem to have anything to say about that. "I meant, like, twice... twice, because I have two." Yes, I understood the maths and the meaning, thank you. "Alright," Daisy said with a shrug. In the end, the AI''s suggestions were far from what Daisy wanted, but weren''t all that bad all the same. A small, discardable machine she could place on the bathroom''s counter to do the surgery, some medication, a single eye, and a very nice, rather expensive, new augmentation that would slowly map out her brain and create a branching sense of proprioception and motion for her to control. Similar things were on the market already, for people with purely cybernetic limbs, or people operating tanks and aircraft. This would be the same, but a little better. She''d keep mum about it, she decided, because having a lot of wires in one''s brain seemed like a private matter. The one eye replaced her right. She didn''t like the feel of it. Not that it hurt, but it was wrong to only have one eye be upgraded. In fact... it made her question the rest of herself. "Weapons next," she said as she picked up her Pillowfriend and checked its charge. "Then the second eye, ears, and lungs. By the end of the day I want to be able to hunt bigger game." *** Chapter Forty-Eight - Recreational Respiratory Deterioration Chapter Forty-Eight - Recreational Respiratory Deterioration "Do you suffer from Agoraphobia? Fear of open spaces is entirely natural. Most mammalian creatures live in tight, secure dens, and exploring the wider world is a dangerous thing! There''s no shame in being afraid of stepping outside of the comfort of your megabuilding, but it can be a little awkward. PsyOPs is here to help! Our three-month all-VR training course will slowly push past your agoraphobia. In no time at all, you''ll be walking under the sun and stars with a bright smile on your face! Contact us today for pricing plans!" --Anti-Agoraphobia advertisement, 2047 *** The next day was a vacation day. I wasn''t heading out to snoop around the sewers. I wasn''t saving the city. I was going to work on my hobbies until sometime in the afternoon when See-Three and her pals were going to show up. That was a later problem, and... yeah, it wasn''t much of a problem at all. I''d change into something nicer and less stained for the occasion, then say hello and walk them around. I wasn''t worried about it. What I was worried about was getting some sensation back into my hands. "Fuck, it''s cold," I said. The current temperature is four degrees celsius, which is approaching cold, yes. The humidity is making it far worse, I suspect. I cupped my hands before my mouth and blew some hot air between them. I was seriously considering a change of venue for my mechanical work. Mostly, doing it just outside was fun. If I needed a snack, I was only a hop away from the kitchen. Needed to shit? The bathroom was right there. It was nice and convenient. But not when I was freezing so hard that I was having a hard time picking up the pieces on my workbench. Besides, I''d been dealing with wind and rain a lot too. There was a reason people did things indoors. "Probably not good for my lungs, either," I muttered. Are you speaking about being outdoors? "Yeah," I said. The level of VOCs in this region is quite high. I suspect that the time you spend out here every day is leading to increased deterioration of your lungs. I coughed, but it was mostly because we were talking about it. Imagining cancer-causing stuff going down my throat made it feel scratchy. "That''s... not ideal," I said. It''s a slow deterioration. You''d need to spend a dozen hours exposed to outside air every week in order for the damage to start being noticeable in a shorter time frame. "And you didn''t feel like telling me?" I asked. I''d be very impressed if you still have your organic lungs three months from now. The current damage is, therefore, meaningless. You also frequently use medicine that heals the damage to your lungs as an incidental side-effect. Ah, right, the nano-repair stuff. I did use a lot of that whenever I got smacked around. It was probably topping up my lung''s health. "Maybe I should get super lungs," I said. Are you going to mention how they''ll improve your sexual prowess? I pouted. I was going to, but not anymore. "I''m not that predictable," I said. If that''s what you choose to believe. Sighing, I shook my head, then gestured to the workbench. "Hey, repair boy, can you store all of this for me?" I asked the repair drone. It wasn''t an organisation drone, but it could handle this much. "I think I''m going to head downstairs early. Maybe Gomorrah wouldn''t mind letting me have a corner of the parking garage." A few walls, some outlets, better lighting, and I''d have a much warmer, less toxic place to do my hobby stuff in. With the bot packing my stuff away, I gave myself a minute to stretch, then walked back in. It was so much warmer in our house. I hadn''t actually looked at what kind of temperature control shit we had. If I ignored it for long enough, then I wouldn''t have to be anxious about changing filters or whatever. I slipped into the elevator and made my way down. I stepped out in the parking garage and tested the air with a sniff. It was warmer than outside, though not by all that much. It was also still pretty humid. Probably all the exposed concrete walls and the big openings to let cars in. Unsurprisingly, the space was cleared out of most cars, except for a couple parked in one corner. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The rest of the room was being taken up by several containers and a couple of large construction drones slowly moving supplies around. That''s where I found Franny. She was frowning at a tablet when I came up behind her. "Hey!" I said. She started, spinning around to face me. "Oh," she said. "Hi Cat. What''s up?" "Nothing much," I said. "How''s the building coming along?" "Slower than I''d expected," she said. "Which is still much faster than normal. These machines aren''t quick, but they''re efficient, and they don''t need to stop. Did you need help with something?" "Ah, maybe? I''m tired of working outside. It''s getting cold as tits out there. I was thinking I could get a corner of the garage to park my mech in and work on it." Franny blinked, then shrugged. "Can''t see why not. You''re not going to rip into the ceiling or anything?" "No? I was thinking of getting some walls built around my corner. Maybe I''ll take a spot with a door leading out?" It would give me a space to park my mech into, and one for my bike. It was a bit further of a walk than having it outside, but not by that much. "Yeah, I think that would be fine," Franny said. "Might want to wait a bit. We''ll be finishing up here in a day or two, I think. Then it''s all furnishing and finishing stuff, but that''s not as big a deal." "Right," I said. "Do you still only have one bedroom?" Franny flushed, then levelled a glare at me. "If, if you must know, we do," she said. "Oh-hoh!" I said. Gomorrah was my best samurai friend at this point, so poking at her private life was definitely not something I should be doing... but it was definitely something I''d be doing anyway, because I was a bitch like that. "Nothing like that''s happened," Franny said. "Really?" I asked. "You''re sleeping in the same room, but not... you know." Franny sniffed. "We''re saving that kind of thing for after marriage." I... didn''t know what to say about that. Maybe ''poor Gomorrah'' or maybe it was more ''poor Franny,'' but that was on them. "Okay," I said. "I won''t dig if you don''t want. Can''t say the same for Lucy though, but if you lay down the law, she''ll probably leave you alone." Franny let out a long breath. "Thanks," she said. "This whole thing is... new for Delilah and I. We''re both kind of feeling our way through this." I nodded along. I had no idea what that was like, but I could imagine it. "So, things going well enough, otherwise?" "Yes. Slower than I''d like, but I think faster than we''d have any right to expect. I think by this time next week we''ll be settled in," she said. "It''ll be nice to have a place to crash that isn''t the convent. What about you?" "Eh, still on vacation," I said with a shrug. "Probably not for very long." I wasn''t paying too much attention to the news, because I never liked that kind of reality entertainment stuff, but I was still vaguely aware that things weren''t all rainbows and puppies past the new walls of New Montreal. There were plenty of cities in a rough shape, and hives growing all over the damned place. I''d have to move out sooner rather than later, do my part and all that. But that could wait another day or two. I... had maybe been pushing myself before. Non-stop action with no breaks and mounting stress and responsibility. It was getting to me. The pace of the last couple of days was much more relaxed. It felt... off, to only have time off like this. I was almost looking forward to being back on the front lines. Weird how that worked out. "Hey, you lemme know what Gom has to say about me using the corner of the garage. And if you need anything, just... I don''t know, come knock at our door." "Like to ask for milk?" Franny asked. "I don''t know if we have any, but hey, if you need cookies or something, I think we have, like, six brands," I said with a grin. I gestured to the floor above. "I need to head back up. I''ll get my mech down... later today, somehow, then we''ll see about walling off a corner." I had that meeting with See-Three, then it was a full day of rest for me. Perfect! *** Interlewd Five Interlewd Five Delilah was somewhere approaching exhausted when she arrived at... home? She wasn''t sure if the place was home yet. She flew the Fury around the building a couple of times, idly watching the fading sunlight play across the silvery cat sitting atop the skyscraper. It was... extremely gaudy. Cheesy, even. But also very Cat, and very samurai. Most corps shied away from anything this overt. That was asking for trouble. Cat didn''t seem to even have a second to spare to wonder about her appearance when it came to this kind of thing. Which was one of the big reasons why Delilah... Gomorrah, chose to make this place her home. It was an overt declaration. ''A samurai lives here. Don''t mess with it.'' And she liked that. Driving the Fury around, she slid into the parking garage and into her slot. Soon she''d have a parking spot for the Fury in her part of the building, but for now this place was private and secure enough. She wasn''t impressed with Cat''s security so far. It was lackadaisical. Some turrets tucked away on the outside of the building, none hard enough to break through the armour of a flying APC. It was enough to deter civilians, maybe, but that was it. She was working on upgrades, which started with the suite of flamethrowers tucked into the roof of the elevators. Anyone riding it with ill intent would reach their destined floor as char. She''d be adding more, of course. Scanners, and security drones on patrol routes. Some flamer turrets here and there. Maybe some missile pods hidden in the walls able to fire out of the building? She didn''t plan on turning it into a fortress... just a place that would be so costly to attack that it wasn''t worth it. Her home, when it became home, would be safe. For her, and for... For Franny. Delilah swallowed. She''d gone a whole ten minutes without thinking of Franny. Almost a record. She had no idea what Franny was to her at the moment. A girlfriend? Maybe? She hoped. They certainly kissed like girlfriends did. They were getting better at it. No more clicking teeth together, no more bruised noses. Though... the fumbling early stuff had been nice too, in a way. Inexperience and awkwardness all led to something that was as funny as it was... hot. Delilah found herself licking her lips. She wanted that taste again. Franny liked a particular brand of lip balm. It was minty. Delilah wasn''t a big fan of mint anything. From cookies to toothpaste, she found the taste too strong. She loved it on Franny''s lips. The elevator opened so suddenly that Delilah jumped a little. Atyacus sent her augs a silent report from the house. There wasn''t much to report, really. Everything was still under construction. She stepped out and took it all in. More walls had been added, but they were unpainted and rough still. The construction drones were deeper in, moving at a snail''s pace as they lifted a precut piece of metal and then bolted it into place on some framing. Her home wouldn''t have anything flammable in it. That meant metal walls and tile floors. It would be tricky to decorate, but that would come in time. "Oh." Delilah turned, then paused to take in Franny. She was standing there, out of her habit. Instead, Franny was in tattered, very tight jeans, with a belt that looked like it had little bullet casings all around it. Her shirt was a size too small. Maybe two, judging by the amount of stomach it left exposed, and the way it clung around her chest. "Hi," Delilah said as her brain engaged. She blinked as she finally noticed Franny''s hair. Or one lock of it, in any case. It was a bright, almost neon blue. It clashed hard with Franny''s natural, orange-y hair. "Welcome home," Franny said with a grin. She was blushing a little. It was always very obvious with her, her skin was too pale to hide it, and her freckles stood out whenever that line of red blossomed across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. "Yeah," Delilah said. "It''s nice to be back. Did... did you need a ride back, or something?" It was getting kind of late. Delilah wouldn''t mind driving Franny back though. "I thought I''d stay the night," Franny said. "Oh," Delilah replied. She could feel the blood rushing up to her face, but she willed it away. "Is the guest bedroom done?" "No," Franny said matter-of-factly. Delilah started jumping to conclusions. "Oh," she repeated. Then she cleared her throat and pushed on. This wasn''t the first time she was tongue-tied, but it used to be a rare occurrence. She''d always prided herself on having a good demeanour, on being stable and level-headed. Recently, that had been harder, and not because she was frequently facing off against hordes of ravenous aliens. It was her ravenous maybe-probably-girlfriend that was a bigger threat in Delilah''s mind. "I''m starving," Delilah said. "Do you want to order something?" "Yeah, sure!" Franny said. "The kitchen''s not ready, but there''s an island to eat at, and I found a couple of stools we can use." "Alright," Delilah said. So they ambled over to the kitchen while Franny talked about food. Delilah only glanced down at Franny''s rear once. A quick peek which still made her feel impossibly guilty. It was wrong. She needed to have better control over herself. They ordered from a place nearby, just a building over, in fact, and Delilah abused her control over the few drones she had on security duty to have one waiting in the parking garage for the food. By the time they were sitting next to each other in the barren kitchen, the food was already being cooked up in some little kitchen somewhere. They started talking about furniture. "We''ll have to decide what you want to buy for points, and what we''ll buy for credits," Franny said. "It feels almost sacrilegious to spend points on something like a couch," Delilah said, and she was happy to see Franny nodding. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. "Yeah. Probably ninety-nine percent buy the old fashioned way. We need a fridge, some cabinets, couches, seats." Franny patted the stool between her legs. She always sat inappropriately, knees apart. It was distracting. "I think we can manage that," Delilah said. "But some things we should get protector-made," Franny said. "The doors," Delilah replied instantly. "I want them to be safe." "And the bed." Delilah felt her mind hitch, but she didn''t let it show. The bed. Singular. As in only one of them. "Ah, yeah," Delilah said. So far she''d been sleeping in a small blow-up mattress she''d grabbed from the convent. It was easy to set up, and durable. She didn''t need luxury. "The bed," she said. I have several beds I could supply. Based on the dimensions of your room, I think I could easily fit one that you and Franny would find comfortable. Sleep is important. She swallowed again. "Maybe later." Franny gave her a look. "Maybe later," she said. Food arrived, and Delilah delighted in being distracted by some extremely fatty poutine with smoked meat while Franny chewed through a salad and occasionally stole a forkful of Delilah''s meal. They talked, about not much at all, and soon Delilah realized that she didn''t own a trash can either. "Want to see about the bed while I get freshened up?" Franny asked. She was trying to sound casual. Delilah had lived most of her life near Franny, she could tell. Her friend was nervous about something. "Yeah," Delilah said. Franny came closer, leaning in towards Delilah. Delilah leaned in too, and they kissed. It was surprisingly chaste. She watched Franny go, and participated in a little bit of sin as her eyes wandered down before she could snap them up. They had... rules. Delilah, in a fit of what was possibly divine inspiration or insanity, had told Franny that Franny was in charge. She''d dropped the reins of whatever power they had in their relationship by Franny''s feet, and decided that that was... that. The memory of what she''d done, in their old classroom, no less, was seared into her mind to this day, and would likely stay there until she died as either one of the most... arousing or embarrassing moments of her life. Maybe both. Franny had decided to use that right that Delilah had given her. It happened in Burlington, a few awkward days later. After some kissing, Franny had demanded to know what Delilah''s limits were. The idea didn''t seem like one that came from Franny. Delilah suspected Lucy was to blame, but... she wasn''t all that disappointed by it. Franny had Delilah''s permission to do whatever she wanted with Delilah, and the first thing she did with that was ask Delilah what her limits were. It was extremely sweet. Delilah had to think on it, but she''d eventually drawn a line, and it was a hard one to follow. She didn''t want sex. Actually, no, that was an awful lie. Delilah wanted sex a lot, with Franny, at a frequency that was likely unhealthy. What she meant was she didn''t want... intercourse? Penetration? She didn''t want to spoil herself, not before marriage. It was stupid, and antiquated, and even a little haughty. Delilah was terrified that Franny would laugh at her, or push past that line (and Delilah would fold, because she''d given Franny that right, and she wanted it as much as she didn''t), but Franny had been beautiful. They hadn''t pushed things since. Oh, there was lots of kissing. Very nice kissing. Some hugging. A few... many moments where hands wandered. Franny seemed to really enjoy Delilah''s breasts, which Delilah enjoyed the enjoying of. Delilah snapped out of her state of wasteful pining and followed after Franny, who was already far ahead. She found the redhead in the bedroom, folding the blow-up mattress up into its little box. The main floor space was clear and empty. "I made room for the bed," Franny said. "Well, more room, there''s only a chair, really." Delilah nodded, then paused. There was a chair. A nice, plush one that she didn''t recognize at all. "Where did you get that?" "It was in the building already," Franny said. "I think it was in some C-suite office? It''s kinda heavy, but nice. I washed it off, so it''s fine." It was a nice chair, a bit modern, all leather. She didn''t know if it fit, but she didn''t complain, not when it accounted for... almost one hundred percent of her furniture at the moment. "Right, a bed," Delilah said. She started to subvocalize with Atyacus. A bed wouldn''t come in a box, she hoped. The AI was usually good at pointing her towards what she needed, but he also tried to upsell her often. In this case, she wasn''t sure she needed a self-heating and cooling bed... until she started to think about it. A warming bed would mean that she couldn''t naturally gravitate towards the nearest source of warmth, who might also be occupying the bed. That would be nice, actually. And blankets. Two sets. It didn''t take long before the order was up, and she asked Franny to step aside even if she was in the clear. With a thump, a bed appeared. It was done up with blankets already. Black and white, with a faint flame pattern embroidered into them. A bit... on the nose, but not too badly so. It was large too. King-sized, or something close to that. Its footprint was almost as large as her car''s. "Nice!" Franny said. She hopped up, knees first onto the bed, then bounced onto it, rolling onto her back with a laugh. "Oh, it''s sinky." "It can harden," Delilah said. "Or... change consistencies, I suppose. So you don''t move as much as you sleep. And it stays warm or cool." "That''s interesting," Franny said. "I''d never really thought about... bed technology, before." She reached towards the pillows, grabbing one and hugging it even as she sat up. There were two small thuds as she kicked her shoes off over the side. Franny eyed Delilah. Delilah stared back. Then Franny smiled. "Sit," she said. *** Chapter Forty-Nine - I Spy with my Meaty Eye Chapter Forty-Nine - I Spy with my Meaty Eye "Space is a commodity that few people recognize until they''re stuffed into a room the size of a closet and told that this is their home." --Jim Moom, Warden of CNW Indebted Credit Repayment Facility, #147, 2036 *** I got back into the elevator, rode past Gomorrah''s floor, then stopped at the level above. That was where See-Three and I were supposed to be meeting. Of course, she wasn''t there yet. I''d know if she was, because I was in the nearest parking garage all of a minute ago, and I didn''t see her showing up. So, I was going to be unfashionably early, but that was alright. I kind of wanted an idea of the lay of the floor first. "Lemme know when See-Three arrives," I said. Can do. With that set up, I started to look around the floor. It was actually pretty large, once I looked past all the shit in the way. Unlike the floor below, where Franny and Delilah had ripped down all of the walls and made space for things, this one was still largely occupied by stuff. Notably, there were old offices here. The floor being as big as it was meant that there was room for several firms in here. There was a law firm, an accounting place, some online retailer''s physical location, then a few rent-a-day offices. The sorts of places with okay-enough internet (with free spyware, probably), little cubicles, free coffee of the undrinkable kind, and some second hand furniture. They were places that someone could rent by the day, or have the company that hired them for remote work rent for a day. Probably for way too much too. The place had a small lobby space at the front, with seats and a desk with bullet-proof glass for a secretary, and then the offices were behind that, in a series of cubicles, some of which were still standing. That... might not be the worst spot for that clinic, actually. It had a space for people to wait in at the front, and as I explored the back, turning on lights as I went, I discovered a couple of generic meeting rooms, probably also rentable, and a corner office at the very back with a view. A shitty one, delivered through two narrow windows, but still, a view. And that back room had plugs and lights and an office chair that was missing one of those rollers at the bottom. It was better than nothing, I figured. See-Three has arrived along with two companions. "Good timing," I said. "Is she on this floor yet?" She''s moving towards the elevator. I nodded along, then started that way myself. I timed it just right, the door to the elevator opening and See-Three and her pals slipping out just as I was coming down the corridor. "Hey!" I called out. See-Three''s eyes scanned the area, then landed on me. I figured she might actually be seeing more than I could with those eyes of hers. Actually, that made me think... "Myalis, remind me to upgrade my still-meaty eye." I''ll do that. Repeatedly. "Stray Cat," See-Three said. She reached out a hand and we shook. "So, this is where you live?" "Here? Nah, the floor above. It was a museum before we took it over and turned it into our place. I might show you around one day." After whipping the kittens into cleaning the place. "Anyway, the rest of this building''s being spruced up a little too. Bit by bit. The floor below belongs to Gomorrah now." "The flamethrower nun?" one of See-three''s friends said. It was one of the guys from the other night. I couldn''t remember his name, and was too lazy to look it up. "That''s her," I said. "She''s turning it into a private house-slash-armoury-slash-church thing. With a large garage. She likes muscle cars. Almost as much as she likes fire and sexy nuns called Franny." "Specifically called Franny?" See-Three asked, clearly confused. I nodded. "Yup. If you know any Frannys that are religious, you tell them to keep an eye open." "Uh... will do," she said a little awkwardly. I just grinned, then gestured in deeper. "Is this the place for the clinic?" "It will be," I said. "We''re going to need to put up some cordons or something, and I might have to buy a couple more cat drones and maybe something big and scary to act as security. But yeah, the clinic should be right over here." The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. The rent-a-day offices were a corridor and a turn away from the elevator, past a couple of emptied out spaces. "There''s a lot of unused space here," See-Three said. That wasn''t wrong. And it was probably worth commenting on because of the sheer value of space, especially in a city as packed as New Montreal. Right now, with everyone from the suburbs being pulled in, there was probably a huge lack of living spaces in the city. And here I was sitting on an entire floor of a large building which was completely empty. "It''ll be used," I said. "My girlfriend, Lucy... you''ll meet her eventually too, runs this organisation of volunteer mercs and like, rescue personnel called the Kittens. We''ll probably be moving their HQ into one of these offices. Might move the big material printer from upstairs here too. I''m probably going to buy a second soon, and that''ll mean more storage space." "Ah, so all of this will fill up soon?" See-Three asked. "Hmm, maybe not all of it. Two of the offices that are here, at least." Which would mean taking up about a third of the space that was available, give or take? There was still a lot of empty room. "The rest... we''ll probably wall up, then reopen them as we need them. I''m sure we''ll find some use for everything here. If this floor starts getting enough traffic, we might want to look into getting a place set up for a coffee shop or something, maybe some space for janitorial stuff." The coffee shop was a fresh idea, but not one I''d dismiss so easily. Maybe I could use it as a way to get the kittens upstairs to work. They''d finally earn their keep, and it could serve as a way for them to earn some change. I didn''t have illusions about housing them forever. One day they''d want to move on, and having both work experience and credits on hand would help a lot with that. Lucy would... probably just find more orphans to fill the void. "This is it," I said with a gesture at the place. It was better to move on before my thoughts spiralled and I eventually decided that we all needed therapy or something. See-Three eyed the office front. The corridor lights were down, but I suspected that all of us here had enough cyberware to see in the low-light. At least the lights within were on, and they painted the lobby as... well, a sterile, very inoffensive lobby, minus a few chairs and potted plants. "It''s larger than the space we had before," she said. "There''s a lobby to get people to sit down and shut up in, then offices at the back," I said as I opened the door and let everyone in. Then I moved ahead, feeling a bit like a realtor as I showed the space off. "There''s a heavy door between the lobby and the back. Not sure how tough it actually is, but it''s something." "I see," See-three said. "And then we have the cubicle farm," I said as I gestured grandly. "It''s... not much to look at, but it''s better than nothing. We can toss all of this shit out, or shove it into the printing machine to break it down. Then we''ll have plenty of room." "Can we renovate this?" See-Three asked. "It''s basically my building, so... consider yourself permitted. I''d lend you the construction or repair drone to help, but it''s a bit busy. Still, I think we can get something temporary set up quickly enough." See-Three nodded quickly. "It''s a lot of space. We''ll use it well." "There''s the back here too," I said as I led them in deeper. "There are two meeting rooms. Honestly, it might be worthwhile to turn at least one into something else? Like a place for patients or something?" "A convalescence room," See-Three suggested. "Post-op, a lot of people need a few hours, sometimes a day or two, on their back. Especially for more complex operations. Most places will shove you in a taxi and you have to hope you can make it to your bed." "Mhm. There''s a small break room, a changing room, and some bathrooms. Honestly, I think you might want to look into hiring a full-time nurse or something while you''re at it." See-Three took a deep breath. "Yes. I think we might have to do just that. This is... growing to be bigger than I expected." "Ah, it''s not so bad, is it? Look! Free corner office. With a view!" *** Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Five Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Five Daisy wasn''t... quite satisfied with what she had. The armour she''d bought was fantastic. She could admit to that much as she stared at her image in the bathroom mirror. She looked like a samurai. Someone riding the technological edge, more than human. She had never been a big fan of samurai stuff in general. She saw it the same way others saw sports fans who gushed about their favourite teams, or gamers who liked one game a little too much. It was, to use a word from her dad''s generation, a bit cringe. Still, samurai were real in a way that sports and such weren''t, and now she looked like one. The suit made her look lethal. But she didn''t feel lethal beneath it. She had one eye that was brand new. Its weight was ever so slightly off, and when she looked around the room, things were in a strange contrast. Her flesh eye unable to make out the faint details hidden in shadows that her cybernetic eye could see in perfect clarity. Her flesh eye had to focus. Her new one was focused on everything in its range, all at once. It was sharp. Almost painfully so. That was it. One tiny bit of her that was better than anyone else. It wasn''t enough. How are you feeling? "Alright," Daisy said. She adjusted her grip on her Pillowfriend. "I want more points." That''s a reasonable desire for a Vanguard. Fortunately, you''re in the right place for it. Though you should be aware that once this incursion is cleared out, making more points may take some time. "Right. Plan for scarcity," Daisy replied with a nod. It made perfect sense to her. She was vaguely aware that she''d be receiving some daily allotment of points as well, but those were a pittance. Certainly not enough to get what she wanted. "Where''s the biggest source of action?" Two blocks away from your current position is a team consisting of several soldiers currently on retreat. It''s not the largest source of action, but it''s close. She hummed, then with a shrug, abandoned the washroom. Lynus had provided her with a small in-aug minigame that she could play. It was very simple. A sort of Simon-says game where she had to repeat a sequence. The sequence was made up of arrows and colours. The trick was that she had to hit them using the new neural mesh they''d just installed. It was giving her a low-level headache, trying to think hard about ''up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right,'' while doing other things. It was a way to split her attention that she wasn''t honestly sure she could keep up, but her AI assured her that it would become easier as she went along. Stepping out of the building she was in, Daisy found herself looking at the wall again. It was much clearer now, thanks to her new eye. It compensated nearly for the glare of the floodlights, and she could make out individual faces. She couldn''t wait to have two. "Mark this location for me," she said. Done. "Thank you," she replied. There was a machine in the bathroom, a brace used to hold her head in place and remove her eye before inserting the new one. She didn''t feel like buying a second such machine. The plan was simple. Get into trouble, kill lots of aliens, make lots of points, then get back and improve herself. It was the kind of plan that was almost certainly going to work out perfectly. Looking for trouble meant finding it or making it, after all. Daisy took off, following Lynus'' directions. This part of the city was unfamiliar to her, at least from the ground. She''d lived here all her life, but she''d never been so low before. Maybe from above things would be different. It didn''t matter. A turn later she discovered an entire street that was in ruins. One of the nearby mega buildings had shattered. The three hundred metre tall stub of a building was sheared along a third of its length. That entire section of the building had collapsed down and onto the street. A mass of steel and concrete large enough to block the entire road. The dust was still settling, even though the collapse must have happened hours ago. She could see the interior of homes, split in half, with more jutting up and outwards. A thousand homes, exposed to the elements. A thousand homes that had been inhabited. Her new eye let her pick out ripped and shredded and crushed bodies dotted across the heap. But it wasn''t just the dead. There were some survivors as well, and they weren''t doing so well. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. A squad of some two dozen soldiers were rallying atop one jutting surface of the building. A gunner had set up there, with a couple of collapsed walls at their back where others were moving from cover to cover and pulling dust-covered civilians out of the wreckage. Some of the civilians were helping. Some looked like they''d come out of nowhere to help too. Some were shivering and staring around them as though they were caught in a living nightmare. The soldiers had created a small camp to one side of the wreckage where a few of them were herding the civilians that could still move. "We need to evacuate them," Daisy muttered the obvious. This entire area wasn''t safe. It would be best if the civilians started walking towards the wall. It was only a couple of blocks away, where a whole force was sitting pretty. But that was two blocks of unsecured, unprotected space. "Ah," she said, replying to her own question. With a shake of her head, Daisy started towards the encirclement. There was a constant rattle of gunfire as the soldiers within took potshots at approaching aliens. The antithesis were taking their time. She saw some deeper in, using the cover of dust to rip corpses out of the homes they were caught in. Some didn''t look like corpses yet. She reached the encampment. A wide-eyed soldier, a young man who barely looked like he had to shave and who was swimming in his helmet, looked at her, blinked, then his eyes changed. Daisy felt her stomach churn with disgust at the hope she saw there. "Keep pulling civilians closer to here!" she snapped before she walked past the injured and dying and lost. She climbed, almost tripping, over a pile of rubble that gave her a vantage. Her new eye let her see the monster skulking in the dark, and the swarms circling far above, still kept away by dust and smoke, but growing braver as more warm bodies gathered. Her Pillowfriend came up, and she snapped a few shots into the dark. Aliens died. Most scurried back. "They''re not charging mindlessly," Daisy noted. That might be bad. "Bad how?" Daisy asked. "Harder to make points with?" She took another shot, nailing a model three in the eye and killing it with only that one strike. She made note to aim for the eyes in the future, to save on charge. The antithesis rarely operate intelligently unless directed. There are only a few models that can do tactical thinking of this sort. None of them are models you''re necessarily ready to handle. "Worse case?" Daisy asked. A model twenty-seven. That is unlikely. You''re far more likely in the influence range of a model seventeen. You''re going to need to look out for model sevens. "Shit," Daisy said as she glanced back at the refugees. How many of them were infected? She hopped down from her position, then gestured one of the soldiers closer. "Who''s in charge here?" she asked. The soldier pointed to another with some stripes on their back and shoulders. The antithesis didn''t pick out officers, there was no reason to hide who was in charge. Daisy ran over to him, and the overworked, clearly tired man turned her way. "Yes?" he asked. "We''re evacuating." "We''re not done pulling people from the rubble," he said. "We''re moving anyway," Daisy said. Those left behind would feed the hive. It was better than losing those they''d saved. "Once you get to the wall, quarantine everyone. There are model sevens here." "Shit," he swore, but noticeably, he didn''t argue. Daisy nodded, then glanced back at the refugees. "Stay back, or escort," she muttered. Only one of those would feed her the points she wanted. "Tell me everything I need to know about that model seventeen," Daisy demanded. They''re relatively small models, smaller even than model threes, with an exceptionally tough carapace lined by eyes. The model is able to lay small eggs that almost immediately hatch into worms, including the model sevens so commonly worried about. They also create small worms that can lay down silken communication lines, and models similar to model sevens which are given to weaker models to assist them in coordinating. "So it''s small and easy to kill?" Daisy asked. And worth a number of points. But they''re unlikely to be loud, or visible. "That can''t be that hard to fix," Daisy replied. She liked having a target. *** Chapter Fifty - A Date Among Ghosts Chapter Fifty - A Date Among Ghosts "The nice thing about VR dating is that it''s a lot less about how you look and who you are physically, than it is about your personality, the way you present yourself. It''s not fair, sometimes, that some people are born ugly, or end up unattractive, but in the Mesh, you don''t judge people based on the circumstances of their birth. You judge them based on the fandom they picked their avatar from." --Meshizen Interview, 2039 *** The meeting with See-Three continued for another half hour. Really, other than exploring the space, there wasn''t that much to do. See-Three took some notes of what they''d need, but most of those things were still at the first clinic location. It would just be a question of moving things from one place to another, which anyone with a car could manage. "If it''s acceptable to start things without fully renovating the space," See-Three said. "Then I think we can open the clinic within a day or two... definitely leaning more towards two." Two days was very acceptable. See-Three and I shook over it all, and I told her that if she needed anything specific, she just had to let me know. It would take a good long while to renovate the clinic properly, but with the amount the clinic would be charging for its services (basically fuck all) I expected that some of the people using it would be willing to pitch in to help a little. We''d need chairs, benches, and a secretary. Further down the line, we''d need proper renovations too. Walling off some parts, fixing up the floors and ceiling lights. Normal maintenance shit too. Maybe a sign out front? In any case, I expected that to kind of just happen organically. The people we were serving were exactly the kind of people that wouldn''t want to get served in a full-on corpo-chic place. Being a little scuffed up would probably reassure them a lot. With that all taken care of, I decided to head back upstairs. I was starving, and I wanted to get back to work on the mech now that my fingers weren''t threatening to freeze off. I arrived upstairs via the elevator (man, this was unsafe. I needed to install an HMG or something by the entrance) and then almost ran into Lucy. "You''re back!" she said. "I never even left the building," I replied. On a whim, I wrapped my arms around Lucy''s shoulders. "Did you miss me so much?" "Mhm," she said. "I''m always worried. What if you decide you need a girlfriend on every floor, huh? What''ll I do then?" "Well, you''d still be the top... unless I get a food girlfri-- ow!" Lucy had pinched my skin on my side, and I let go of her to rub it. "That hurt," I whined. "You deserved it," Lucy said. She tilted her head back, pretty little nose pointing haughtily at the ceiling. "We''re going on a date," she said. "A date?" "Yeah. I need to get my evil hooks into you before any other desperate, wandering lesbian comes along," Lucy said. I couldn''t help the giggle that escaped. "Sure, because there are so many throwing themselves at me. I''d be more worried about you. Desperate, lonely housewife, all alone at home--besides her seventeen kids--with nothing to do. The neighbours are heavily repressed nuns, open to her evil predations..." Lucy snorted, then climbed onto her tip-toes to give me a quick peck. "Date," she said. "I''m gonna get dressed, and you should do the same." "Wait, really?" I asked. "Ordered a taxi already," Lucy said as she ran off across the house with me walking after her. Of course, she almost tripped, and then she wasn''t running, so much as walking fast. I caught up with her changing in our rooms. It seemed as if she was serious about it, so I decided to do the same. A glance at what she was picking out to wear suggested that this wasn''t anything too formal. Not that we had anything to wear for formal type stuff. I hopped into the shower, then dressed in cargo pants and a loose t-shirt. Lucy was dressed similarly, though with my old coat tossed on. Her shirt was just small enough to expose a bit of belly. "God, you''re hot," I said. Lucy smiled. It was hard to tell with the colour of her skin, but I could tell she was a little flushed. "We''ll see what you think once you pay for the date," she said. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. "Hey, I have to pay? You invited me," I complained as I walked next to her. She bumped me with her hip, and I laughed. We made it outside--I grabbed a coat too, because I liked my skin unexposed to whatever the fuck was in the New Montreal rain--just as an autotaxi pulled up to the rooftop ramp. I opened the door for Lucy, then ran around to the other side before we took off. "You still haven''t told me where we''re going," I said. "You''ll see in a minute," Lucy teased. "Ah, but I don''t know if you''ll actually care for it." "I''m sure it''ll be fun," I said. I was with Lucy, after all. The taxi flew us across a good tenth of the city. It wasn''t a fast flight, not after it slipped into the low-priority aerial traffic. But it wasn''t all bad. Lucy and I talked, then kissed, then talked some more. That had a tendency of making time pass a lot faster. My first clue about where we were going was the taxi dipping out of traffic, then starting a holding pattern around a squat skyscraper. It had a large dome above it, all glass filled with greenery and several glowing blue forms. Banner ads hovered around the building, calling it the Hologardens of New Montreal. The taxi pulled into a drop-off zone a few floors below the top, then the doors locked while my augs got a ping from the taxi demanding that I pay up. I rolled my eyes and allowed the transaction. There was a faint hitch as Myalis noticed some fucky surcharges, then insisted on contacting support to have them removed. Since it was all automated, I imagined her ''contacting'' support was the equivalent of driving a tank through the wall of an office then waving the receipt around. It was fixed in a second or two, and I leapt out of the taxi and ran around to help Lucy out of her side. "Is this the place?" I asked. There were more ads here for the Hologardens, and I was faintly aware of more intrusive ads trying to get through my augs and bouncing like flies off of steel plating. "Mhm!" Lucy said as she leaned against my side. "It''s not much, really. I heard that it didn''t pull in nearly as many people as they wanted. Bad timing and everything, but there''s a nice walkabout, and there''s a zoo!" "A zoo?" I asked with a laugh. Actually, yeah, that tracked. Lucy had several terabytes of animal gifs with her at all times. It didn''t surprise me that she''d want to see the cute animals up close, and I really didn''t mind being with her while she coo''d and aww''d. We walked in, then passed an automated gate that asked us to pay to enter. I almost winced at the price before remembering that I wasn''t extraordinarily poor anymore. The entry cost was a pittance. Lucy picked up the pace, tugging me along after her and up an escalator that brought us up and into the gardens proper. The gardens were relatively large. Big trees flowing up, the ground around them covered in greenery, with wider, more open spots here and there. The crowd, as sparse as it was, was guided through the gardens via some walkways suspended a little bit over the ground. "Look!" Lucy said as she pointed to a holographic animal. It was a... gorilla? My augs pinged on it, and I got a pre-packaged dataset courtesy of the holozoo. It said that the last silverback had died in captivity some ten years ago, but the wild ones died out when the Congo rainforest was burned down to wipe out some hives hidden within. "They''re so big!" Lucy said. "Yeah," I agreed. "There''s some seals over there... seals don''t live in jungles, do they?" "I mean, maybe some of them?" "I''m pretty sure none of them," I said as we walked past the seal enclosure. There was a sort of pond that the holograms would dive into. The effects with the water left a lot to be desired. "There''s a place to eat, up ahead," Lucy said. "It''s a classic restaurant, with menus and everything." "Huh, alright," I said. "I could eat." Lucy beamed, and I grinned right back. This was a lot more fun than the dates we''d had before. Less stealing shit and running away, or ''dating'' while hiding in a closet somewhere. I think that this was quickly turning into the highlight of this vacation of mine. *** Stray Cat Strut - Volume Five - A Young Ladies Guide to Interpersonal Ballistic Missiles, is Out! Hi! Sorry for the non-chapter post, but don''t worry, your regularly scheduled SCS chapter is coming up soon! But first... some news! Stray Cat Strut Volume Five is up on Amazon, Audible, and... actually, pretty much just those two! You can find a link here: Amazon.com December''s a real busy month for me. I have the Dead Tired audiobook coming out soon as well (it''s really good!) and Dead Tired II hitting shelves at the end of the month. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Oh! And I have Fluff 3 launching on January first. Oh! And I have The Complicated Love Life of Ivil Antagonist launching on January first. Oh! And I have Magical Girl Rending Nightmare launching on January first. The start of next month is gonna be... real hecking busy, huh? But hey, more stories for everyone! I hope you enjoy SCS 5 if you buy it <3 If you want to help even more then don''t forget to leave a nice review and maybe some stars. I''ll be obsessing over the story''s stats for a few days. Keep warm, RavensDagger Chapter Fifty-One - Live Laugh Lobsters Chapter Fifty-One - Live Laugh Lobsters "Some traditions, rooted in various cultural hang-ups that we find distasteful, still survive to this day. A large part of that can be attributed to the prevalence of those traditional actions in the media we consume and the history and stories of our previous generations." --Excerpt from ''The Ongoing Tradition'' 2035 *** Lucy gasped. "Cat!" she said before leaning forwards and spinning the booklet she was holding around. The restaurant was a pretty fancy place. It was set a floor above the zoo, along one of the walls. There were big glass panels between us and the zoo itself, angled so that the seats closest to the wall could look down into the jungle-y gardens below, or up and through the large dome just above. The place was nice. With actual flesh-and-blood waitresses coming to the tables and paper menus to order from, like in an old-timey movie. The prices were not so old-timey, unfortunately. Not that I really minded too much. "What is it?" I asked as I squinted at the menu. Lucy was too excited to hold it level, so the words were bouncing around and hard to read. The pictures helped a little. "Is it the seafood dish?" "There''s lobster," she said. "It says it''s real lobster too." "Yeah, I guess," I said. "Can''t be that hard to grow some of those in captivity, right?" There was no way it was actually fished. If the weather over land was wild most of the time, then I couldn''t imagine how nasty it was over the ocean. And the ocean housed a lot of nasty alien bastards too. There was a constant move to cull them, but they''d come up to nibble on a fishing ship, I was sure. Besides, I was pretty sure that wild lobster was extinct. "This is rich people food," Lucy said. At rich people prices too. "Order some," I said. "There''s two claws, right? We can share one. Or is it the tail?" Lucy turned the menu around. "I don''t know. The picture is just a red thing. Oh, and it comes with brussel sprouts and a sauce and a salad!" I grinned. It was impossible not to when Lucy was this excited over food. For my part, I stuck to something that looked a little more down to earth. They didn''t have what I''d usually order at a restaurant, but that was probably for the best. Chicken nuggets and burgers didn''t seem very fancy. So I stuck to the pasta section and hoped that I didn''t make too much of a mess of my face while eating. Our waitress came over. A twenty-something girl with a few piercings that clashed with her uniform. She took our orders and was very patient when Lucy asked about how to eat lobster. "You do need to crack the shell. We serve the meal with some special cutlery to help." "Oh," Lucy said. "That''s cool! Cat, you''re stronger than me, can you help if it''s too hard?" "Uh, sure," I said. The waitress smiled, then left, and I found myself reaching a hand to the middle of the table. Lucy did the same, and our fingers entwined next to a very unnecessary scentless candle. "This is nice," Lucy said. "It''s better than some of the dining experiences I''ve had lately," I said. Lucy nodded, then paused. "Have you eaten during an incursion? I mean, when you''re out murdering things?" "Huh, uh, yeah, once or twice? I mean, Myalis will let me order food. Snack bars and stuff to drink. Gomorrah actually has a mini-fridge in her car, so whenever I ride it around I make a point of stealing a drink." "No!" Lucy said with a grin. "That''s awful." "Eh, she probably orders them by the dozen. Besides, they''re tasty." "Steal me one next time," Lucy said, and I laughed at the switch from condemning it to wanting to be in on the theft. "I wanna taste it!" "I will," I promised. "You know. You could probably steal one yourself. Gom and Franny are basically neighbours now." "That''s super weird," Lucy said. "The nuns living nearby?" I asked. "Having neighbours. I mean, we''ve always had them, I guess. But usually it''s... I don''t know. People that we''ll never meet or interact with, I guess. It''s strange knowing that there''s someone you know living two floors down. Makes it like the whole building might be full of people that it wouldn''t suck to meet." Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. "Wasn''t that always the case?" I asked. The orphanage was on the lower floors of a pretty old mega building, one of those early ones that went up in the thirties or so. "We never lived in a place that didn''t have others in the same building." "This is different," Lucy said. "How?" I asked. She shrugged. "I don''t know. But it feels different, so it''s gotta be. Are you going to be inviting more samurai friends to live on the other floors?" "Are they all empty? As far as I can tell there''s still stuff going on in the lower floors, I think." One of the lower floors had those bridges connecting to the other buildings around ours, so there was definitely still foot traffic crossing through every day. "Meh, if you ask nicely, businesses will scamper away. It would be cool to have a whole building that''s nothing but samurai. Oh! I could become a... what do you call those people that specifically take care of one place?" "A custodian?" "No, no... a butler!" I laughed. "You want to be a butler?" "You don''t like the idea?" Lucy asked with a pout. "Well, you would look cute in a suit," I said. An all-black suit, with a white undershirt and... "Oh, maybe a little moustache? And you''d have to speak in a posh British accent." Lucy chuckled. "I don''t think anyone wants to see me with a moustache. Maybe a goatee?" "Oh no," I said. "At that point, why not a full beard?" "Have you seen what my hair is like? I don''t think I could have a beard that tangly." "Is this one of those ''would you love me if I were a worm'' things, but it''s about facial hair?" I asked. Lucy cackled, leaning back so far that her hand almost let go of mine as she laughed. "No, sorry, it''s not that. Uh, I don''t know how we got onto the subject." "It''s okay," I said. "Looks like the food''s coming." The waitress came around with a tray, this one covered with our drinks and entrees. We''d both ordered something a little alcoholic. I went for something simple, Lucy went for the cocktail with the fanciest name and which looked prettiest in its picture. It came in a weird cup with several umbrellas and slices from six different fruit. We, of course, sipped from each other''s drinks. Hers, for all of its overly fancy presentation, did taste a little better. I wasn''t even sure what brandy was before I ordered it, but it sounded cool and I only had to work a little not to make a face as I sipped at it. "Have you gotten any news from... what''s her name?" Lucy asked. "You''ll have to be a bit more detailed than that," I said. "Short, lasers, you said she had clones all over?" "Oh. Deus Ex? No, I haven''t heard back in a while. I don''t know if I can hear back. It''s not like there''s internet between here and Mars. Why did you want to know?" "Mild concern about the bigger picture stuff," Lucy said. "It''s all way, way out of my control, but I''d rather see shit coming than not." "Yeah, that''s fair, I guess," I said. The main course arrived just as we were finishing off our entrees, but I kept the conversation going throughout. "So, no news from here. Honestly, no news from the Martian front at all. I don''t know if that''s a bad thing or not." "I think it''s probably good," Lucy said. "Wouldn''t the Family let you know to prepare if things were going really bad?" "I hope so, yeah," I said. "Or things are going so bad that they won''t tell us anything because that''ll just make the last few days we have left all the more depressing." "Hmm, so nothing new there," Lucy agreed. "Nothing new," I repeated. Lucy did end up having trouble with her lobster. Or maybe she just wanted to let me feel good by cracking it open for her. I, of course, stole a bite. It was... alright. Not as good as a fresh vat-meat burger, but alright. "You know, if we''re all going to die horrible deaths, then at least we''ll get to die together," Lucy said. "Hmm... yeah, I''d like that. There''s no one I''d rather die with." "Love you too," Lucy said. She waited for me to be halfway through a sip before asking her next question. "So, when are you going to propose?" I, of course, gasped in a mouthful of brandy and proceeded to almost die. *** Chapter Fifty-Two - Cat Nap Wrap Chapter Fifty-Two - Cat Nap Wrap "If you can''t uwu with sincerity, then don''t owo with infidelity!" --Hyper Cutie Bubblechan Zoom Ranger Sparkle Girl, 2048 *** After dinner, and after my heart stopped trying to beat its way out of my chest, Lucy and I took a walk through the little park again, visiting the petting zoo off to one side of the gardens. They had real animals here. Or animatronics realistic enough to stink and poop. Lucy made all of the appropriate cooing noises as a little goat hopped its way over to her and accepted some loose goat mix from Lucy''s hand. "This place is nice," she said as she tried to scratch the goat''s head. It bobbed away, then hopped off when it saw that she had no food. "There''s a lot of nice places in New Montreal that we just never got to visit." "Yeah," I said as I kept my attention on Lucy. "There''s some beautiful things here." Lucy glanced up, then tugged a stray lock away from her face. "You''re silly," she declared. "No, you''re silly," I retorted with all due consideration. Lucy smiled, and as we continued our walk, she pressed herself into my side. I wrapped an arm around her waist, hand naturally finding its place on her hip. Lucy used that to press in even closer. It was a little cool at this end of the zoo, but we kept each other warm, even if we were only walking at the kind of pace that would make the geriatric think that we were going too slow. Lucy had brushed off her marriage joke earlier, and it was all forgotten by the time we got to dessert. Well, maybe she''d forgotten it. It was at the forefront of my mind at the moment, even if I was trying to push the thought away. It... it would happen, eventually. Probably. I was better at facing hordes of enemies than that kind of problem. "Should we go home?" Lucy asked as we started to come full circle around the zoo. We weren''t too far from the entrance, and I wasn''t feeling nearly as bloated now as I had felt just after eating. "Yeah, I guess so," I said. "Worried?" Lucy asked. "Hmm? About what?" "I don''t know. You''ve been taking some time off, even if it was all rather busy. I think it was good for you," Lucy said. "You don''t seem as stressed." "I don''t feel as stressed," I admitted. "But it also feels like there''s a ton of stuff that''s going to happen soon. The more I try to get things fixed, the deeper I get involved, the more I realize that the problems that caused the problems that caused the problems I want to fix are more complicated than I imagined." Lucy nodded. "It''s not your fault. Or even any one person''s fault." "No, I think a lot of my problems are generational. People were allowed to get away with shit fifty years ago, and now that''s hurting us here, today. It''s all very... messy. I''m surprised that no one''s tried to fix it by wiping the slate clean." "I don''t know. Sounds like you''d need to really start over from scratch for that," Lucy said. "Bit of a depressing end to the evening," I said while suppressing a yawn. "Sorry." Lucy pressed herself into me. "No, it''s okay. I guess your vacation will be ending soon?" "I guess so," I said. There was a small lobby space before entering the zoo. A few kiosks, the booth to buy tickets, some vending machines and the elevators leading to the parking space below. There were also a couple of televisions mounted to the walls. Some were playing loud ads on loop, but one was turned into a 24/7 News channel. It was showing some PMCs from above, firing into a small horde of lower-tiered models rushing towards their emplacement. The banner at the bottom said that it was live, and taking place just outside of New Montreal. It was strange how unaffected the people here were. There were other couples. A few workers. Some people that looked like they''d just finished their shifts and were moving by. They''d glance at the screen with the news and pay it as much attention as the ads playing next to it. The world was ending, and it was as noteworthy as the newest hard-on pill or the freshest toothpaste recommended by 11 out of 10 dentists. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. I couldn''t even be angry. Not so long ago I would have been a lot more concerned with keeping me and mine fed than I would have been about the impending tide of hungry aliens. One was an issue I needed to address now. The other was something terrible that, if it happened, there was nothing I could do about. These people had their own shit going on. The people displaced by the aliens, those that had lost family, they''d be really concerned. So were those fighting on the front lines. But the rest of us? Life went on. The vacation I''d taken was a nice way of stepping back from the bigger picture and fixing the little-picture stuff that bothered me. But that didn''t mean that I could sit back forever. There was a weight of responsibility that came with being a samurai, and it was one that was pressing on me now. "I think I''m gonna be heading out tomorrow," I said. "In the morning?" Lucy asked. "Well, whenever I happen to wake up. It looks like things around the city are getting spicey. Besides, I think I could use a few more points, right?" Lucy locked eyes with me for a good long while, almost as if she was seeing if I was serious. Then she nodded. "Okay. As long as you stay as safe as you can manage, then I think it''s okay that you head out. Will you be doing another thing like Burlington?" "Hmm, no, I think I''ll be staying closer to home," I said. "There''s something nice about sleeping in my own bed, you know?" "Oh, I think I do," Lucy purred. I grinned, then leaned into the side to press a kiss onto the top of her head. I wasn''t sure she felt it through her bushy hair, but that didn''t matter. We took a taxi back home, and maybe got a little handsy on the way back, at least until the taxi''s rudimentary AI warned us that by taking this taxi, we waived any rights to footage taken of us having fun in the back. Then it tried to sell us on a subscription to Feisty Taxi, which... no. The moment the car landed, we stumbled out of it and into the pouring evening rain. It was cold, and some of it immediately found its way past the collar of my coat. Still, it was kind of refreshing, and we both laughed as I tried to shield Lucy from the rain while running towards the front door. "So," Lucy said as she pressed a rain-wet kiss against my lips. "Ready for second dessert?" Someone cleared their throat, and I looked up to find Junior standing by the entrance, arms crossed and looking unimpressed. "Hey," I said. "Hey," she replied. "Before you two start your little rabbits-in-heat thing, you have a visitor." "Oh... shit. Wait, who is it?" I asked. "Delilah, from downstairs," Junior said, her posture relaxing, though she was looking at me with suspicion. "Is she actually your friend?" "Uh, yeah? Why wouldn''t she be?" "Because Delilah speaks and acts like someone who has their shit together," Junior said. "I kinda figured that people like that would have a natural aversion to our sort." Lucy laughed. "Delilah''s good people," she said before pulling away from me and adjusting her outfit. "I''ll go grab some drinks. You go chat with your friend." I watched her leave, then smacked my cheeks to help myself refocus. Delilah wasn''t the sort to interrupt things just-because. I found her in the living room, sitting on the edge of a couch and listening to Nose prattle on about... something that he''d hyper fixated on. "Oi, brat, leave Delilah alone for a bit," I said as I patted him on the head. He gave me the finger, then ran off, leaving us more or less alone in the busiest room of the house. "Hello," she said. "Hey. So, what''s up?" "The wall was breached," she said in a way that had a shiver running down my spine. "We''ve sealed it, killed the antithesis that made it through, but with so many PMCs moving to other cities, we''re going to see more trouble. That, and the antithesis are starting to act smarter." "Ah," I said. "Well, fuck, I guess vacation time really is over." *** Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Six Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Six Daisy very rapidly discovered that she had no talent for sussing out aliens who weren''t charging at her headlong. She watched from a slight rise in the ruins as the soldiers gathered up the civilians that could still walk into a single group. There was a heart-warming amount of camaraderie. The stronger helped to carry the weaker. Stretchers were made from spare coats and clothes and some boards or rebar. They probably wouldn''t last, but they didn''t need to. More were carried on backs or given a shoulder to lean on before the entire group started to shamble off. They were moving at a slow, shuffling speed that made Daisy''s teeth grind. "I can''t decide what''s worse. Not seeing the enemy, or seeing so many injured moving around like that." I would hope that it''s the latter. Daisy considered it, then nodded. The injured bothered her more. She felt a tiny inkling of guilt at not being able to help more. Worse, she had made them move on, which meant that some people that could have been saved wouldn''t be, all because of her order. She decided not to dwell on it. If she killed the aliens, then real help could arrive. The injured and stuck would have to wait, just a little while. "Lynus, can you contact the soldier''s... commanders?" I can. "Tell them that we need more people here. And to meet the evacuees mid-way. Also, tell them that some of them might be infected with model sevens. I expect quarantine before any other solution." She''d heard stories about entire groups being gunned down because there wasn''t time to discover who was infected and who wasn''t. "Alright," Daisy said as she shook off her stray thoughts. She had managed to kill a couple of weaker aliens, and her point total was... not looking great, but not awful at the same time. "I need to find that model seventeen. Lynus, I think it''s time for a drone." Understood. What are you looking for? "Just something that can see for me. Its vision can be relayed back to me. Something that can fly?" I see. If you''re going to invest in that direction, then a small very specialised catalogue might not be a poor idea. It will unlock a good selection for you to pick from. She frowned, but nodded. Her goal had been to upgrade her gun next. The Pillowfriend wasn''t bad, but it wasn''t great either. As a secondary option it would probably be fine, but she needed something... better as a primary. Still, needs must, and she wasn''t going to beat around the bush with this. She went over her options with Lynus, dismissing some ideas quickly before falling on a drone she wanted and a catalogue that could provide it for cheap. Catalogue unlocked: Light Data-Gathering Drones Points reduced to: 20 Drone unlock: Sleepy Eye Drone Points reduced to: 10 The drone was small, only a little larger than her closed fist, with three fans set equi-distant around it. The main body had a large camera facing forwards, and not much else. Daisy left it in its open box for a moment as she connected to it through her Augs, then her brain interface. She expected some degree of pain as the link unravelled, but there was nothing. The drone sent an image into her augs which she ''saw'' in her mind, as if she had a third eye. There was a vague, very weak and peripheral sense of balance telling her that she was currently even. She tipped the box, and that sense moved with it. It wasn''t strong. In fact, she could very easily ignore it. With a bit of focus and a constant mental repetition of ''up'' the drone rose up and out of the box, shooting past her head for a moment before she thought ''down'' enough for it to level off at head-height. "Hmm," she said. Anything wrong? "No, just strange." She was looking at herself through the drone while she looked at it. The double-vision felt odd for how... not-odd it felt. She imagined she should have been confused, or disorientated, but it was no worse than reading a tablet while resting in an awkward position in bed. The drone spun around, then zipped away and up while Daisy worked through its camera settings. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "Do antithesis show up on infrared?" Some do. Others are rather cold, but few are colder than their environment. The issue with infrared is that an antithesis at rest is no hotter than the average plant, which means that in most terrestrial environments, they blend in with the background ''noise'' too well to be spotted. "Right, I suppose they are just plants." The drone''s camera had levels of zoom, as well as adjustments for the various camera''s sensitivity. Interestingly, she flew past a bright pink advertisement, then paused, flew back, and stared at it through the drone some more. The drone''s camera capture is being fed directly into your brain. Your human eyes couldn''t see certain colour bands, but you''ll grow used to it. "This is going to make coordinating clothes more complicated," Daisy commented as she moved the drone on. In the meantime, she shouldered her gun and started following it. As the drone rose and captured a better view of her surroundings, she caught sight of something ahead. Movement. Tearing, jerky movement. Someone was fighting off a pair of model threes with nothing but a piece of rebar with cement still clinging to it. Another was nearby, being dragged off by one leg while they feebly tried to fight back. "We need sound on the next drone," Daisy said as she picked up the pace. Noted. Daisy took off in a dead sprint, then slowed back down to a more sensible jog when the rubble underfoot started to shift. Yet, getting to the people that needed saving quickly was important, but they wouldn''t be saved at all if she twisted her ankle halfway there. The group of survivors were huddled in the remains of what might have been a bar. It was hard to tell with the room now on the horizontal and all of its furniture crushed. There was a display with drinks now hanging above, and one of the survivors had a bottle and was clunking it against the head of a silently salivating model three. Daisy took in the scene in an instant, already aware of who was where thanks to her drone. Then she started firing. A dozen shots later, and the aliens were dead. There wasn''t any fanfare. The survivors, panting, bleeding, looking as if they weren''t at their best, turned to her like a saviour. She pointed them back the way she came. "I''m here on a hunt," she said as she walked over to one of the alien corpses. "You''re all alive. You''ll stay that way if you get out of the area." "C-can''t you help us?" one of them asked. "No," she said. Right now, she had no points to spare, and stopping to help them get to safety would mean putting others at risk. The math was simple. Getting stronger now meant better results which meant more lives saved. She didn''t like the looks she received, so she moved on, but not before stopping at one of the corpses. "How can I tell if this is a controlled alien?" Look for an incision at the back of the model three''s head, under its carapace. She tilted the alien''s head forward with a boot, then frowned. There was a cut there. A shot from her Pillowfriend opened it up, revealing a long worm, its body split apart to send tiny root-like feelers through the alien''s skull. "So, that''s the model seventeen''s worm?" Yes. It''s well planted as well. At a guess, this model three was infected some two to three hours ago. Daisy looked about, both with her own eyes and the drone above. "So, where''s the alien, then?" If you keep moving and keep killing, it will find you. "I don''t like the way you phrased that," she replied. "I want to find it, not the other way around." With your current tools, that might be difficult. The model seventeen will certainly create an ambush for you if you''re disruptive enough, however. I... am uncertain of your chances in case of a strong ambush. Daisy didn''t like it. If she was going to fight, then she wanted it to be on her terms. But then... if she knew that she was going to be ambushed, and prepared for it, then there wasn''t that much of a difference, was there? "Let''s keep moving, and keep preparing. By the time that ambush starts, we''ll be ready for it." *** Chapter Fifty-Three - Who Let the Worms Out? Chapter Fifty-Three - Who Let the Worms Out? "The common nomenclature for Antithesis names follows a simple pattern, one determined by the first responders in the Ohio incursion and which was then adopted globally and refined. A model''s general type will be given a number. Sub-types are given an alphabetical marker. The common model 3 has sub-types A, B and C, which are all relatively common and also distinguishably still model 3s. This system is fantastic on paper and for reporting. It is, unfortunately, less useful when it comes to memorisation, as numbers are harder to retain for most than names. Still, the plethora of nicknames for the various antithesis models does lead to more confusion than the official nomenclature, and their use is therefore discouraged." ¨C Mrs. January, licensed educator for teenagers, Jan 2033 *** "So, what''s the sitch?" I asked as Gomorrah and I both stepped into the kitchen. Some of the kittens were reclaiming the living room, and none of them wanted to be in the kitchen in case they were bullied into dish-cleaning duty. It made for as good a place to talk as any. Plus, I was a little thirsty, so I pulled a can of something from the fridge and offered one to Gomorrah who nodded and took off her mask. "The... situation is turning a little rough on the outskirts of the city." "Really? Damn, I thought we were doing alright." "New Montreal is one of the safest cities in the world right now," she said. "We were lucky that there was an incursion before this global one. Ironically. And we did a decent job pushing the aliens back and reclaiming territory around the city. The problem is the north." "The north?" "South is the old USA. There''s plenty of force down there. Burlington might have been in a bad state, but other cities handled themselves better, and were cleared out over the last week. Territory''s being reclaimed and hives burned. The issue is that north of New Montreal is a lot of nothing, and that''s also a lot of room for hives to grow." "Right," I said. That made some sense. Even with the winters mellowing out and the northern parts of what was Canada becoming prime real estate, there still wasn''t much that way. "So we''re gonna get fucked from that way?" "I wouldn''t put it in those terms, exactly," she said. "But we can expect some resistance and some assaults from that direction, yes. And some Samurai, once freed up, might be coming here as a staging ground for the East-coast assault on the far-north." "More samurai in the city, huh?" I asked. "That''s not so bad. Could use a few more." "There are a few more that we haven''t met. But getting samurai to work together can be like--no pun intended--herding cats," Gomorrah said, and I replied with a snort. "There''s Battlepoet who''s relatively new. She''s been around the city for a while, but not in it until recently. This samurai from Calgary, Teddy, sent some mechanised war-bears to help with the push north. There''s more." "It''ll be nice to have lots of samurai around all at once," I said. Less work for me. "Yes, but they''re not all willing or able to work right away, and the problems with the infiltrations are problems right now. Especially with the antithesis acting strangely." "Acting strangely how?" I asked. "Atyacus suspects that it''s a network of model seventeens." I shrugged. I had no idea what those were. Also, the normal naming convention for antithesis was not doing me any favours. I was bad enough at math as it was without having them all be called numbers all the time. "They''re the models that make model sevens," Gomorrah said. At my incomprehension, she went on. "The zombie worms." "Oh," I said. I knew those. "Nasty fucks." "Seventeens are hard-shelled models, small. They lay worms that can control people, but also worms that can control other antithesis. And they can lay out long strings of organic wires that can let a hive communicate over long distances. Atyacus thinks that the way the hive is moving now, tactically, means that we have a few model seventeens playing games just outside of our defences." "Great," I said as I rubbed my face. "And this is right up against the walls, huh?" "PMCs can''t keep up with shifting battlelines. Not when they''re changing approaches and testing different areas this quickly," Gomorrah said. "And the wall?" Gomorrah leaned back, two of the legs of the stool she''d taken over tipping back then clunking back down. "It was a good idea, I suppose. And it is working, for the most part. But the wall has gates. And there are a lot of them." Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. "When do they need us there?" I asked. "Ideally, right now?" Gomorrah said. "I think the PMCs in charge want to do a counter-offensive." "Really? That''s ballsy." "It makes sense." I frowned at that. Did it? Then again... yeah, I supposed it did; giving the antithesis time to attack meant giving them time to scrounge up more biomass and make more combat models. Time was not on our side. A big push, a big move to wipe some of the planty fuckers out? That would do more to slow them down than just sitting on our thumbs and waiting. I sighed. "Alright. I''ll come." "Thank you," Gomorrah said. She stood up, but I waved her down. "I need to get my gear. Get dressed. Hell, I''d appreciate taking a quick shower." I needed to cool off. And maybe I could convince Lucy to join. "I won''t be heading out for another hour, at least. Unless the aliens are literally climbing up the walls right now?" "I think we can spare an hour or two," Gomorrah said. "Did you want me to wait or..." "Eh, no, go ahead of me. You can deal with all of the boring logistical shit that I don''t want to mess with." Gomorrah looked unimpressed by that admission, but it wasn''t wrong, and she was probably better at dealing with that kind of thing than I was in any case. We both knew it. "Fine. I''ll fly over with the Fury. I imagine you''ll be leaving the mech behind?" "For this? Yeah. Are they going to launch that big push overnight?" She shook her head. "Tomorrow afternoon. Fifteen hundred hours. They want the sun above and well-rested soldiers. And they''re bringing in people from elsewhere too. Tanks, special vehicles." "Ah, alright... so why are we going there tonight?" "Because someone needs to act as vanguard, and that''s literally our job," Gomorrah said. "I''ll send your AI my location. See you in about... call it an hour and a half?" "Damn. Alright," I said. Gomorrah nodded, then left. I stood there, finishing my drink on my own while thinking to myself for a bit. "Myalis. Get the repair drone on the mech. Sucks to suck, but I might need it tomorrow." That''s understandable. Will you be doing any self-upgrades? "I''m due, aren''t I?" I asked. "Yeah. but not tonight. Let''s see what I need overnight, then tomorrow, when we head out with the army, I can do them. Or before bed? Whatever. Just... not right now." I was always reluctant to go through that kind of thing. But needs must and whatever. I could put it off for a couple more hours. First, I''d see about that shower. "Did it go well?" Lucy asked as I found her in our bedroom. "Well enough," I said. "Gom... the city, kinda needs me. Tonight and probably tomorrow too. I''ll be heading out in about an hour." Lucy nodded. She didn''t look surprised. "I''ve been catching up on the news. Did you know that they''re making a big push on Mars tonight?" "The Mars stuff is public?" I asked. "Someone had to let people know where all the samurai have gone," Lucy said. "It leaked a while ago, but now it''s more official. Anyway, The big push is right now. Things should be heating up a lot soon." "Damn," I said. "I''ve been more out of touch than I expected." "You''ve been busy... for a vacation," Lucy said. "I guess so," I said. I started to look for my things. Then Lucy shook her head and started to find my things. They were exactly where I was looking, but somehow she was pulling them out as if I''d missed them, which wasn''t possible. I was sure I''d searched. Frowning at Lucy''s magical ability to find stuff, I started to gather all of my things in one place. I''d need to bring my Trench Maker, a Laser Pointer and ammo for both. My undersuit, of course. And if we were venturing out of the city, my good armour. I had a few loose grenades in our little armoury/Lucy''s walk-in closet, those could come as well. "Are you gearing up now?" Lucy asked. "Shower first," I said. "Maybe a cold one." "Cold?" she repeated. "Someone couldn''t keep her hands to herself on the drive over, and now I''m afraid that I''m not in the right state of mind to be shooting aliens." "Oh," Lucy said. She grinned. "You know, we do have a pretty big shower, and you''re not leaving just yet, are you?" *** Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Seven Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Seven She was not ready for it. Daisy grit her teeth and kicked out ahead of her. Her foot landed in the face of a hungry model three, stalling its advance for a moment, but also throwing her back. She hissed as she landed kidney-first on some rubble. The suit helped. It spread the damage out across her lower back. It hurt anyway. Still, that kick had earned her a few seconds. Enough to get her weapon trained on the alien. She pulled the trigger. A pair of anaemic beams shot out, frying alien flesh and cutting across its face and head. The model three, already a little dazed from her kick, growled and shook its head. One of its eyes was burned out, but the other locked onto her and she imagined that it wasn''t all that happy. "Oh, get over yourself," Daisy grunted as the alien leapt for her. Models three were not smart. It kept its mouth wide open and practically choked on her Pillowfriend as she shoved the gun into its throat. A pull of the trigger later, and the alien''s body went loose. Daisy ripped the gun back, then pushed herself to her feet. Without taking any time to wait, she ran forwards and into the first cover she found--the interior of a small boutique in the building across the street from where she''d started and where she''d been thoroughly ambushed. The counter-ambush had gone poorly. She had tracked the location where she thought the model seventeen was hiding, and had even maybe seen it from above with her Sleepy Eye drone. She approached it, and was utterly unsurprised when she was jumped by a few model threes. The tentacled model was an unwelcome addition, but she''d taken it down with a few shots. The big, tanky model that rammed through a still-standing wall and which sent her sprawling had been an even worse surprise. Fortunately, the ambush occurred on the far side of the toppled megabuilding. She had a decently clear road out of the area. It meant running while being chased, but the ruins provided cover, and she was able to land a few hits on the aliens following her, and could chart a path from above. That was, until a flying alien swept her drone away and she lost contact with it. Then she started running into model threes clearly on the hunt. She didn''t doubt that they had heard her most recent kill, or noticed the flash of her laser rifle. This bit of cover she had now was temporary, at best. Diving deeper into the boutique, Daisy shouldered a back door open, then pushed into a small office space. It was a dead end. The shop didn''t have a backdoor, or a way out except for the front. "Shit," she muttered. Then, because she wasn''t a fool, she went quiet and closed the door she''d just broken open and pulled some boxes to lean against it. Then it was into the office further in. Daisy knew herself. She''d done gymnastics and sports of one sort or another her entire life. She knew that with five minutes to rest, her heart-rate would be down to something more reasonable. A dark, unlit office in what seemed like a boutique that sold cosmetic cyberware wasn''t the greatest spot for rest, but it was better than out there with the aliens. Are you alright? "I''ll be fine," Daisy muttered. "Points?" Two hundred and ten. That was... a pittance. About a dozen kills worth. Then again, that was about what she''d managed. If she''d stayed at the wall, she would have gotten a lot more by now, just picking off strays. "First priority is a new gun," Daisy said. Her Pillowfriend wasn''t terrible... until it ran out of juice. Then it became a dangerous paperweight. The first shots could take out a weaker model in one hit, but after a few dozen shots, the laser became weak enough that it did little more than scar the enemy. That wasn''t enough. What are you thinking? Daisy folded the handgun''s stock, then set it atop the office''s sole desk. "I need more punch," she muttered. "I don''t mind the laser part. But I need more power, and more staying power as well." I see. Budget? Daisy considered it. She''d spent fifty points on the Pillowfriend, she had two hundred on hand. "A hundred," she decided as she picked her handgun up and slid it into a holster. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. She went over a few small details with Lynus, mostly picking out the form factor. She didn''t want something too heavy, or too large. So far, she''d stayed alive by moving quickly, and a gun that needed magazines to reload, or which was bulky and heavy, might cost her her life. Weapon unlock: Slumberblaster Points reduced to: 110 Her new gun was sleek, the same colour as her skintight armour, with a few red highlights. A bullpup, of sorts, with the trigger near the centre of the gun. She tucked it against her shoulder and aimed across the room. "It''ll do," she said. There was a clank from the other side of the door. Something was rooting around in the main part of the boutique. A good-enough opportunity to test her new loadout. "Can I auto-buy items?" Certainly. "Once I hit five hundred, get me another one of those drones. Can you make it appear without the box? Ready to go?" I can manage that. Though it might be best if you''re not moving at the time? There might be a slight bit of disorientation that might be dangerous. "That sounds fair," Daisy muttered. She must have been heard, because the alien on the other side of the door came over and started pushing against it. Daisy snuck out of the office, then levelled her Slumberblaster at the door. The moment a snout poked out, she fired. The laser burnt through the door and into the alien, burning a hole clean through it and partially blinding Daisy. Her inorganic eye could handle the light bloom, her other... not so much. "Damn," she muttered. I''m sorry. Do you want protection for your vision? "I''ll be fine," she said. "Let''s go kill that model seventeen. Then I''m retreating back towards the wall. I want that second eye in, and a few more easy points." Certainly. Daisy tore the door open, then closed one eye before taking a trio of shots. It took that many to hit the one other alien in the shop. "Fucking depth perception" she muttered. Foul language was unbecoming of her, she thought, but at the moment she felt as though it might be somewhat warranted. "Nevermind, I need both eyes," she relented. A few moments later, she slipped back onto the street with a pair of glasses on. She regretted the lack of oversight from a drone almost immediately. But, on the bright side, she wouldn''t have to go find the model seventeen. It had found her instead. Daisy backpedalled into cover, but it was too late, she''d been seen. The ruins and wreckage strewn across the road were covered in aliens. Mostly smaller models, with a sprinkling of larger ones. And they were all heading her way. In the middle of it all, sitting atop a mound of rubble, was an alien with a thick carapace and a tiny head. It was squat, smaller than the model threes around it, though it was a little wider. It was also looking her way. Dozens of thin lines were linked to its carapace, several of them spread out to the nearby aliens around it. The model seventeen, and it had brought a small army. Daisy didn''t waste any time, because she knew she had little. She snapped a few shots off towards the bigger aliens on the road, a trio crashing into a model five, a few into a tentacled model four. Enough to kill them, or at least injure them while they were out in the open and not up in her face. Then the aliens swarmed. Daisy continued backing up, but she didn''t rush it. The last thing she needed to do was to trip. She took careful, even shots. She was aiming quick and firing quick, but not wasting her attacks. Efficiency was paramount at the moment. But it wasn''t going to be enough. She didn''t need to be great at math to tell that there were more aliens than she could handle. Part of her was trying to think of what to say, what to ask Lynus to provide, but she wasn''t sure. Another part of her was berating herself for not thinking this far ahead. Then, out of nowhere, there was a sudden rain of bolts. Metre-long metallic bars plunged out of the sky, skewering aliens through and scattering across the entire street. Daisy paused, but only for a moment. The intervention had helped, but some still lived, and she wasn''t going to let some points go just because someone chose to save her. There was only so much merit in gratitude. *** Chapter Fifty-Four - Its fun to play with the P.M.C. Chapter Fifty-Four - It''s fun to play with the P.M.C. "As a soldier you need to be aware that you are NOT a mercenary. You are a part of a greater fighting force whose goals are to defend the people and integrity of your nation. You are a fighter for justice, not mere credits." --US3 Army Propaganda, 2042 *** I hugged my bike close, the rumble of its engine sending a bassy vibration through me, which was nice. I was still feeling fresh and tingly from my shower, but the flight was giving me time to recentre myself. What was coming up was probably not going to be fun and games. I got a warning from the city''s automated driving systems as I shot past the exterior wall of the city. Myalis calmed them down for me, probably told whatever automated AA they had to chill out as well. Flying past the security of the wall wasn''t safe, but I figured it wasn''t all that dangerous either. Not as long as I was moving quick and staying far off the ground. Anything that could attack me would have to come from the air, and so close to the city it would have been gunned down a while ago. I just wanted to see things with my own eye and I figured it was worth the risk. The northern wall stretched across the city. There was a river here, entering from the west and leaving out of the east. The main part of it was buried under the megastructure of the city proper, but some parts of the lake to the west were visible from my altitude. The wall circled around the entire northern part of the city. A flat grey of concrete and metal, with evenly spaced towers along its length. It would have been impossibly imposing from the ground, but from up here, it wasn''t quite that impressive. For one thing, the wall wasn''t that straight. It didn''t just curve out to encompass the swell of the city, but it had small sections that pushed further out, or that were uneven to account for crooked terrain. The suburbs around this part of New Montreal were still lived in, even those beyond the wall. Probably because the wall wasn''t the only wall in the area. There was a second, much less impressive set of fortifications some ways out from the main wall. "How far is that second wall from the big one?" I asked. The spacing isn''t even, but the furthest section is four kilometres away. That was a fair bit of space, especially since the inner section followed almost the entirety of the northern wall. "Why was this section left here?" I asked with a gesture to the space. I believe because some four million people live here. There are several small cities growing out from New Montreal. To the west is Deux Montangnes, then Saint Coke of Cola, Nimbleland, Rosemere. You''re currently above Nimbleland. The secondary wall meets the main wall not too far from where we are. But there''s another secondary wall installation around Mascouche and the city of Amazon Prime. There are an additional twelve million living in the other walls'' suburbs. "And these walls keep them safe enough?" I asked. That''s unlikely. The quality of the walls varies significantly from city to city. From what I can find with a cursory look, the walls are paid for by either corporate entities, or the cities themselves. Which meant lowest bidder shit all the way, at a time when no one could afford anything. "Right, I can see how this''ll go already," I said. Gomorrah had sent me a ping with a location to meet at. It was just outside of the main wall, next to one of the big openings designed to let traffic in. I noticed the spot, but flew on anyways, making a quick circuit along the outer wall. There were some defensive installations out here, and a few of them looked like gated camps and muster grounds on the outer edge of the suburbs. At a guess, the local PMCs had discovered that buying lots of high-risk land was suddenly worth it for them. Or they were being given the right to use the land. Or... well, it didn''t matter. The outer-outer walls were mostly mesh and barbed wire, with the occasional cement wall that wasn''t much more than three metres tall and already crooked. Some sections of the walls were new. Others had probably been around for a few decades. It was easy to tell the old apart from the new. The new didn''t have graffiti covering their every surface. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. I turned back towards the big city and flew over to where Gomorrah''s signal called for me. I found her Fury parked in the middle of a wide open exterior parking lot in front of what looked like a recently-converted grocery store. There were two rows of thirty main battle tanks. Then four land fortresses parked nearby. Men and women were swarming around, though it didn''t look like they were moving with any real hurry. I noticed a couple of squads of three-legged mechs parked nearby too, along with some APCs and smaller wheeled tanks. I couldn''t exactly see where Gomorrah was, but I imagined it wasn''t too far from her car, so I came down and parked nearby, then slipped off my bike and tried not to make it too obvious that I was stretching the kinks out of my back. There was something of a crowd here, after all. A row of cheap mobile homes and trailers was parked to one side, all of them so close together that I imagined they couldn''t open their doors fully. Each had a sign painted on their front, and it looked like it was serving as barracks for the soldiers. And there were soldiers. I was used to working with PMCs. Well, moderately used to it. There were a few styles that they tended to fall into. The gruff, tacticool ones with a big budget, the ones that sold safety for cheap and kept things cheap by being cheap, then the really low-end PMC outfits that were little more than gangs with some administrators. Burlington''s militia stood out too, as a sort of middleground between the super cheap mall-cop PMCs and the high-end corpo outfits. This wasn''t any of that. This was the army. Men and women in fatigues, with minimal cybernetics. Lots of very standardised shit, but not so cheap that it was worthless. That, and the kind of armoured force that even a corp might have a hard time justifying. Tanks were expensive. I knew this because while Lucy liked watching cute videos of baby animals, the algorithm tended to push pseudo-military content my way. Stuff about tanks and cool army tech shit. It wavered, and it would only come up every so often... but I still had a soft spot in my heart for large lumbering vehicles of war. So I knew that they were expensive as fuck, not just to buy, but to maintain. Actually, I really knew that lately. And my mech wasn''t a fifty-ton tank built by humans. It was probably a lot easier to repair and maintain than any of the tanks parked out here. A soldier ran up to me and saluted. "Stray Cat. Samurai Gomorrah is waiting in the command unit. Follow me, please." No nonsense there. And not much grovelling either. Then again, it was late, and things looked like they were winding down for everyone here. I didn''t comment as I followed the soldier towards a mobile base near the centre of the lot. It was one of those typical eight-wheeled behemoths, with multiple gun emplacements bristling out of every corner and more turrets on the roof, along with a bridge that jutted out of the front a little. I found Gomorrah within, leaning over a table whose surface was a screen, along with two officers ahead of her. "Hello," she said. "You''re twenty minutes past our meeting time." "Huh... more punctual than I''d have guessed," I said. "So, what''s going on?" "Long version or short?" she asked. I could tell from the glance the officers shared that they were caught a little flatfooted at the moment. "Short?" "Short version it is. Maybe that''ll make up for you being late." She tapped the screen, which was currently displaying a map of the area I''d just flown over, though zoomed out and in daylight colours. "The convoy tomorrow will be heading along this road, northbound, until they reach here." She tapped a point some fifteen kilometres past the shitty wall. "Alright," I said. "The problem tonight is this." She pointed to a red circle a bit to the west. "There''s a hive somewhere in this area, and it''ll be the perfect spot to ambush the convoy. Assuming that the antithesis are smarter than usual, then there''s a good chance this hive will be trouble. Our mission is to burn it down." "Easy enough," I said. Maybe this wouldn''t take all night after all. *** Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Eight Somnus Deus Ex - Chapter Eight Daisy fired at the model seventeen, then paused. The alien was still alive. She frowned, then fired again, then again. It took four concentrated shots on one spot of its shell to break into the softer meat beneath and cook the alien from the inside. She did get her kill notification though, as well as a somewhat underwhelming fifty points. The area stilled, no longer lit by the flashing red strobes of her laser. The only sound, other than distant wails and the tortured crumbling of fallen buildings, was the hiss of antithesis flesh cooked by her concentrated beam fire. Some two dozen lay dead around her, killed by her own hand. Three times as many were skewered through by shiny metallic bolts. "Not bad, kiddo," someone said. Daisy spun, levelling her rifle in the direction of the voice before she thought better of it and turned the business end of the rifle away. Not so much that she couldn''t twitch it back on target, but... most antithesis wouldn''t start a conversation with her. A man was standing atop the rubble. She couldn''t see him well, not until he hopped down, bouncing from outcropping to broken cement wall, until he finally landed on the street level some ways ahead of her. He was, she decided, either a samurai, or an idiot. "Is that a bow?" she asked. The guy turned, then raised his weapon. It looked like a bow. A rather long one, with pulleys on either end and a complex sight by the middle. The design was sleek, however, and it was clear that it wasn''t some off-the-shelf product. That was a samurai''s bow. If a samurai had to stoop so low as to use one. He seemed suited to it, however. A tall man, wearing light armour. He had a sort of jump-pack on, which Daisy immediately flagged as a future purchase. His helmet was angular and sharp, but left his face exposed. It was all coloured a deep, darkish grey, with solid green lines of neon running through it. "It is a bow, yeah," he said with a smile that lit up his whole face. "That''s what I fight with, when I can." She decided that maybe he was both a samurai and an idiot. "I feel like you''re giving me a look. Are you giving me a look?" he asked. "I might be," she replied. "Great, great. Judgement from the pipsqueak." "Lasers move faster than arrows. Just putting that out there." Bow-guy backed up a step. "Hey there. I was just stopping by to help. You looked like you were in over your head." "I might have survived," Daisy said. "And if I did, I''d likely be better off than I am now." "Wow... you''re kinda hardcore, huh?" he asked. Stepping back, the samurai took a seat on a pile of stones. "Name''s Longbow. My AI says you don''t have a proper name yet. And that you''re pretty new." "I''m Somnus Deus Ex," Daisy said. "Deus Ex, huh?" he repeated. "Alright, Deus, sorry for saving your life. I didn''t mean to yoink all of your kills. My bad. Really." Daisy eyed the man for a moment. She was used to having to deal with people higher up on the social ladder than her. She didn''t like it, but it happened. Coworkers and managers that worked with her father, some of the teachers at school. She felt like she was above them, in her own way, but that''s not how the world saw things, so she played to their tune. She knew how to bow and scrape and be exactly as polite as she needed to. This was different. As far as she knew, she was now at the top of the totem pole. And so was this guy. "So samurai scramble for power at the top?" she asked. Longbow tilted his head to one side, then the other. A very wishy-washy gesture. "Yes and no. Some compete to be the best, but generally, I don''t think we''re picked for our competitive natures. We don''t all get along when we''re off duty, but I think we''re all in it for the same thing." "For peace and quiet?" Daisy asked. He blinked, then laughed. "Yeah! Exactly. Peace and quiet, made all the better for all the noise we make." "And your way of chasing that peace is with a bow?" "Hey, what''s wrong with bows?" he asked. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. "About two hundred years of history making them obsolete," she said. He shook his head at that. "Mine''s cooler." She didn''t doubt that it was. Bows didn''t fling what looked like fifty or so projectiles all at once with unnerving accuracy. More than one of the dead antithesis had an arrow through an eye socket. The rest had their necks pierced, or were struck in the fleshier bits. Those arrows that had missed seemed to land where the aliens were going. One of them had impaled itself on the spiked back of an arrow, the fletching acting as bards in its flesh. "I suppose," she said. "You don''t seem new-new, but you don''t have the look of a vet to you either. When did you get the invite?" he asked. "Yesterday," she replied. Longbow''s eyebrows shot up. "No shit, lil'' sis? Well well, you''re moving fast. Bit of unwanted advice though; don''t move too fast. Opportunity is knocking right now, but sometimes it knocks harder than you''d like." "I see. Thank you, I suppose," Daisy said. "Aww, don''t be that way," he said. "Here, how about I make it up to you... uh." He glanced down at himself, turning this way and that. "Well, crap, I don''t have anything on me that you might want. Unless you want an arrow? I can sign it?" "No thank you," Daisy replied. She was starting to look forward to the end of this conversation. "Nah, I feel guilty. Oh, you probably still only have crap catalogues, right? What are you specialising in?" "I haven''t determined that, yet," she replied. "But, ideally, I want to be away from the fighting when it happens." "Oh, that''s a tough one," he said. "I mean, I get it. I''ve got some turret emplacements here and there, they work, but the point-penalties for at-range stuff is a pain to deal with. Trust me." "I... see," she replied. She hadn''t been entirely aware of that. "So using drones is useless?" "It''s not so bad if you''re controlling them directly, one at a time. AI-controlled stuff barely pays for itself, and only if you keep it running for a long time. Trust me, sometimes I wish I could clone myself so that I could be in more than one place at the same time, keeping people safe and earning my way to better gear." "You mean like cloning yourself?" Daisy asked. That seemed like a reasonable thing to want. "I guess. So... you have a drone catalogue? Here, lemme..." A box appeared by Longbow''s feet, and he grinned as he picked it up and tossed it underhand towards her. She caught it, then opened it, trusting that it wouldn''t be anything dangerous to her. It wasn''t. Within was a sleek, teardrop-shaped machine with a bow and arrow logo on its back. It was all matte grey and neon greens, Longbow''s colours, but her augs linked up to it instantly and she could feel it asking for permission to be controlled by her interface. "What is this?" she asked. "A better drone! Worth about as much as the points you''d have made. It''s got a little laser gun in it. You can have all the points it makes, and hopefully it''ll keep you safe enough." Daisy was a little moved. A little. "Thank you," she said. "No problem, little sis," he said. "Stop calling me that." "Nope," he said just as easily. Her glare didn''t do anything to stop his grin. "I''m gonna keep moving on. Unless you need anything?" Daisy shook her head. "I''ll manage," she said. A few more points, maybe a few more strays picked out, and she''d have enough to continue her progress on to the next step. "Alright! Keep safe, sis. If you need anything, just gimme a call. Your AI should have my number." He gave her a thumb''s up, then bunched his legs up under himself before leaping forwards. Daisy followed him for a moment, but he quickly flew off. She saw him firing a couple of shots from his bow from way up in the air. "Weirdo," she muttered before looking down at the drone. She wouldn''t use it so easily, of course, not until Lynus reassured her that it was safe. Still, it was a thoughtful gift. What lingered more was the idea he''s casually dropped. "Hey... cloning technology isn''t beyond the protectors, is it?" *** Side Story Poll Two! Hello! The last two sidestories have been a real blast to write, but I''m looking forwards to trying some new stuff! Oh, and there''s a heap more new fanfic too! (If you wrote one, lemme know, fanfic shoutouts are free!)! Anyway! I think I''m happy with where Somnus Deus Ex is right now! Let''s see if we can''t decide on who''s story to tell next? Here are your options: Neon Girl Happy-Chan - (Set: late 2020s, Ohio, abused child who''s an eternal optimist, focus on early samurai. Tone: Darker, optimistic, early world building) Longbow - (Set: early 2040s, USA, Everyone''s big bro, Longbow! Tone: quirky comedy vibes) Lag & Dial-Up - (Set: 2030s, USA, The two hacker friends. Hack the future! Tone: I''m thinking some corpo vigilantism and some early matrix stuff. Lots of references and nerds being nerdy. ) A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Grasshopper - (Set: 2050s, a somewhat off-kilter young teacher who wants to stay as weird as she is despite her life being upended. Tone: Some comedy, but lots of introspection and time spent in the head of a character that''s very weird) Emocythe Mordeath Noir (Set: late 2040s, a goth gets more goth-er, fashion and long discussions about appearances and what it means to be a samurai) Manic - (Set: 2057, concurrent with Cat''s timeline, the rockergirl to rock all girls! Tone: Distressed musical musings) If there are any other samurai you''d like to see more of, then let me know! Or even just... periods of time within the setting, or areas in the world that you want explored! I''m thinking of doing short arcs with each one, just showing a snippet of a samurai''s life. Chapter Fifty-Five - I Meant To Do That Chapter Fifty-Five - I Meant To Do That "After the first incursion, the people of the world turned to the scientific community for answers. Samples of the first aliens to make verifiable landfall on Earth were brought to labs across the country, footage was shared, and speculation and hypothesis began. On the same day as the Antithesis arrived, a whole new branch of scientific studies was born." --MIT Pamphlet on Xenology, 2026 *** Gomorrah and I hitched a ride in the back of a troop transport. Not one of those big armoured ones. This was basically a four-wheel-drive truck, with a low bed filled with twin rows of seats facing each other and an optional tarp roof--currently down. It wasn''t fancy, but it was pretty fast. Or the driver was pretty fast in any case, cutting through red lights like it was nothing, the escort of light armoured vehicles probably helped. People tended to slow down when half a dozen cars with turrets on their roofs came rushing down the road, police-lights flashing and sirens wailing the entire time. When Gomorrah had outlined the plan, I had expected it to be a little simpler. Gomorrah and I would rock up to the hive, burn and-slash-or explode it up, then head back home for a quick nap. Instead, we were heading to the hive with an escort. A full platoon of force recon. I glanced at the row of men and a few women next to me. They were serious-faced, probably because their sergeant chewed up the guy who''d dared to whistle when we came in. The lot of them were dressed for war. Thick gambesons to stop bites, armoured collars around their heads and helmets that covered everything but their mouth and nose. They had a very standardised kit. Some sort of bullpup assault rifle, a few magazines strapped to their chest. A sidearm at their hip. The same pale green armour all around, with a few highlighter-green bands around their rather ugly helmets. The only good thing I could say about their gear, at least as far as looks went, was that it would make Gomorrah and I stand out. I got a ping from Gomorrah, and glanced across at her a moment before we were connected for a call. "Stop staring. You''ll make them nervous," I heard over the call. Notably, I couldn''t hear her saying it aloud. "I''m not usually this close to the soldiers while sitting in a car with nothing better to do," I said after making sure my voice wouldn''t escape my helmet. "Are these guys good?" "Seventy-Seventh recon," Gomorrah said. "They''re pretty much the best. At least as far as normal soldiers go. They''ve cleared out hives without any samurai support before. If we weren''t here, they''d still be rushing over to the hive right now." "Huh. Brave of them," I said. "Someone has to do it," Gomorrah said. "I think a lot of them have family in New Montreal. They have a reason to fight. So stop staring." I raised my hands a little, a small gesture of surrender before I leaned back into my seat. It wasn''t a very comfortable seat. "We''ll see if we can''t impress them, then," I said. "I think shooting straight and not tripping over your own feet would impress them a lot," Gomorrah said. I laughed. "Right, right. I''ll try to be half-way competent for once. Are we expecting a lot of resistance?" "Not really. The hives here aren''t exactly dormant at night, but they seem less busy than usual. Atyacus explained it to me once. Something about the sun being down, the temperature dropping, and also there being less human activity and aggression. The antithesis are very good at noticing patterns like that. So night is when they do a lot of digesting and the hive expands." I nodded along. I haven''t made a point of studying the aliens, but that sounded about right, at least from what I''d picked up from movies and tv. There were probably people out there with entire degrees about antithesis behaviour. Compared to that, I was working off personal experience and a few tidbits I''d caught along the way. We reached the secondary wall, and I noted that some of the buildings nearest the wall had been collapsed. I hadn''t actually noticed that from above. It looked like someone was smart enough to create a killing field on the inside of the wall as well as the exterior. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. The gate leading out of the city was manned, but they were quick to let us through. Almost the instant we were past the gate, the sirens and lights were shut off. I hadn''t realized it in the city, but the cars were silent. No engine rumbles, and their suspensions were good enough that they barely made any noise as we rode ahead. I leaned back, glancing over the side of the truck. The cars ahead were turning off their lights, and soon the transport we were in did the same. The entire convoy was running dark on a road I could only see because of my better eye and my helmet''s optics. "Hope the driver can see," I muttered. "Don''t worry about it," Gomorrah said. "I vetted the drivers before we left. Otherwise we would have met them with the Fury." "Still don''t know why we couldn''t go ahead," I said. "Because we want the nice soldiers to want to protect us," Gomorrah said. "And they can help carry things too. It doesn''t hurt to be kind." I shrugged. Couldn''t say I cared too much either way, but maybe she was right. In any case, with the speed we were going at--probably twice the speed limit--it only took a few minutes to reach our spot. The convoy slowed down, decelerating until we were all moving at a slow crawl, then the car at the front went off the road and into a field, using a small dirt road over a wide ditch to cross over. The moment we were offroad, I pulled back into the seat and sat properly. The suspension might have been good, but we were crossing an open field. It had probably been... corn or something, once. Now it was nothing but small bumps for as far as I could see. The off-roading continued for a good long while. We couldn''t move as fast, and when we crossed from one field to another, it had to be done over small dirt bridges over deep ditches. Once, the entire convoy stopped so that a truck just like the one we were in but with gear in the back could slip ahead. A few guys jumped out, then literally installed an unfolding bridge for us to cross in about three minutes flat. It took another ten minutes before the entire group came to a stop, this time for real. The soldiers stood up, the sergeant in the group making a few quick gestures accompanied by a few clicking noises. Everyone disembarked, and they were going slow, moving so that they didn''t make much noise. Some noise was unavoidable, but they were doing what they could to be quiet. "Silent bunch," I muttered. "You might learn something from observing them," Gomorrah commented. I blinked, then glanced her way. "You okay? You''re testier than usual." "Sorry," she replied instantly. "Just... a lot on my mind. I shouldn''t take it out on you." "It''s fine. If I couldn''t handle some amount of snark I wouldn''t be able to survive." I patted her on the back. "Would burning some xenos brighten up your mood?" I asked. "It would." "Alright, then let''s go set some aliens on fire." We clambered out of the back of the truck and were met by three sergeants and a guy that had lieutenant stripes. "Miss Gomorrah, Miss Stray Cat. We''re ready to begin the operation." "Any details we should know?" Gomorrah asked. "Latest satellite scan paints the hive as being within a two kilometre-wide radius of this forest. Mostly on the surface. We''d like to go in quiet, if at all possible," he said. The more aliens that died without the others realising, the easier it would be for the soldiers, I figured. "I can do quiet. At least until it''s time for the bombs to go off. I''m not sure how stealthy fire is." "It''s bright, but fire doesn''t need to be loud," Gomorrah said. "We can manage. Set your IFFs on. Let''s get to the centre of the hive, then burn it out from within." That sounded like a plan to me. A fun one, even. I shouldered my gun, then started off for the forest. "I''ll do a bit of scouting ahead," I said before going invisible. It was just in time, too, because I tripped on my next step. Fucking muddy fields. *** Chapter Fifty-Six - Country Cat, City Cat Chapter Fifty-Six - Country Cat, City Cat "Keep the chatter to a minimum, we don''t need to embarrass ourselves in front of the Samurai. You don''t see them goofing around, do you?" --Lieutenant Moreau, 2057 *** I reached the edge of the forest, then I realised that I hadn''t connected to the team coms. Fortunately, while I was an absent-minded moron at times, Myalis was on the ball. Yes, I did grab a connection to the intra-team communication network. It''s hard not to. The encryption is extremely basic. I suspect that they want to make it easy for other organisations to tap into their lines. Why would they... actually, that kind of made sense. You wouldn''t want a creative civilian with the right augs to pop onto your lines, but letting the local PMCs know that you were there wasn''t a bad move, not for a team that specialised in taking out aliens. It was probably easy to listen in because they wanted others to know they were around. Or something like that. Maybe they''d just cheaped out on encryption stuff. I hadn''t noticed a mesh-runner on the team, which made sense if they were mostly fighting aliens. Linking you now. I heard a faint static-y hiss that was easy to ignore. Then a few sniffles and light coughs that weren''t so easy to miss. It seemed as if the entire group was on one shared channel. The soldiers were keeping to themselves, not speaking up, and their mics seemed like they were at least designed not to pick up breathing, but still, every cleared throat was loud and clear. I opened a tab on my augs and fiddled with the volume. I didn''t want to miss an alien sneaking up on me because I was distracted by Jenkins with the sore throat. "This is Stray Cat, I''m on the edge of the forest. Uh, over." "Read you, Stray Cat," someone replied. A small text box at the edge of my vision read that as Lieutenant Moreau. "We''re catching up now. Anything to report?" I looked around me. The forest was real... forest-y; more so than that zoo Lucy and I had visited. There were bushes all over, fallen branches blocking off otherwise passable parts of the woods, and the terrain went from flat agricultural land to a bumpy mess. "Looks like shit, but no aliens, over." There were a few restrained chuckles on the line, some that turned into coughs. I had the impression that this bunch wasn''t used to joking around. They were all very serious about their work. That was probably fair. I imagined that those that didn''t take it seriously became a pension cheque for their family rather quickly. "We''re moving in. If you want to move ahead and scout, we''d appreciate it," Moreau said. "Moving ahead," I said. I shouldered my gun and slipped into the brush. My invisibility would be useful here, of course, but I quickly discovered that being unseen didn''t mean that I wouldn''t be noticed. The ground was covered in a layer of broken branches and piled on leaves. Every step came with a crack and shuffle that my boots could only do so much to muffle. Worse, there were bushes all over, and they kept brushing against my coat with a faint rustle. The wind coming in from the flatter fields around the forest helped a little. It made trees sway faintly and created a fair bit of noise to camouflage my own motions, but that would only go so far. It was actually frustrating how out of place I felt here. I was a city girl, I wasn''t made for woods and shit. I at least tried not to make too much noise as I skulked through the forest. I had to move in a zig-zag, avoiding trees and bushes, and sometimes I had to stumble over fallen branches. After a dozen metres, I realised that I''d been turned around. Not entirely. I could still see the edge of the woods and I could make out the shadowy forms of the soldiers and Gomorrah coming up towards the edge of the forest, but I was no longer travelling in the direction I intended. "Myalis, I need a small map up on my hud. And a compass," I muttered. Adding that now. I got both. A small semi-transparent map in the corner of my vision, as well as a compass running as a band across the top. I turned my head left and right, and the compass followed. We''d entered from almost due south, so I had to go north to get deeper in. Nice and easy. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. I continued on my way in, realigning myself as I went. The map had a few dots where the soldiers were, so I was able to keep track. "Hey Lt. Moreau, I''m not seeing any xenos yet," I said. "Lots of plant life still." "Our satellite images suggest that they haven''t hit this part of the woods yet," the lieutenant said. "Just keep moving," Gomorrah said. "We''ll see where they reached." I shrugged and kept moving, and some three dozen metres later, I discovered that she was right. There were fewer bushes and large plants here, not because the trees blocked the sun, or because the ground was rockier, but because they''d all been ripped out. Trails of shredded plants and loose dirt flowed back and away from where I stood, marking the places where the bushes had passed, and I could easily make out the holes in the ground where the bushes had been. "Shit," I said as I knelt down next to one hole and touched it. "Stray Cat? Anything to report?" the lieutenant asked. He''d overheard that. "Found a spot some... twenty-five metres ahead of your group. Bunch of bushes were ripped out of the ground and dragged away, heading more or less north. A bit east." "Noted. That''ll be the antithesis grabbing biological matter for the hive." "Right," I said. I''d never really seen an area like this before, but it made some sense. The aliens ate pretty much anything organic back at their hive. Dragging things back only made sense, then. Given enough time, I was sure they''d come back for the roots and grass and all of the smaller plant-life that they missed. Maybe it was a good thing that most grasses and bushes and such were going extinct. It meant fewer things for the aliens to feed on. I stood back up and continued, but only for a little bit before I stopped again. There was something that my vision caught, a faint glimmer in the air. If my augs and eyes were normal, I''d have dismissed it as a glitch, but I had good shit, and Myalis didn''t give me glitchy gear. I narrowed my eyes and scanned the forest ahead, then I moved up and down a little. I probably looked stupid, doing half-squats in a forest, but it worked. I caught that glimmer again, and now that I was looking for it, it was easier to find. It was a wire. A thin thread that cut across the space between two trees. I noticed a few more above, and some at ground level. Hell, I noticed one snapped around my lower leg. "What am I looking at, Myalis?" Without closer inspection, it''s impossible to say, however, I predict with over eighty percent certainty that these are the webs left by model sevens. Communication strands. They can also serve as tripwires. "LT, hold," I said. "Holding," the lieutenant said. I noticed the dots on the map coming to a stop and I imagined the soldiers tensing up behind me. "Found some wires. Look like spiderwebs, hard as fuck to spot." "Prep for ambush!" the lieutenant snapped in a low hiss, and I saw the dots regrouping into a rough circle in a hurry. I heard them too. So far, they''d been moving so quietly that I could only barely make out the occasional snap of a branch, now they were hustling to get into formation. I raised my gun too and waited with baited breath. Nothing showed up, though. "Huh... maybe that was a dud?" I asked. "That''s possible, if there isn''t a mo--" I stopped listening to what the lieutenant was saying as I jumped aside. Something large and spikey crashed through the branches above and then came rushing down. I think it would have missed me if I stayed still, but I jumped aside anyway. The large ball of spikes thumped into the ground, then burst apart, scattering dozens of long spines across the forest. I covered my head and felt a few pinpricks stabbing into my suit and into the less armoured joints between. "Fuck," I said as I looked up. It was an artillery ball, flung by a model fifteen with surprising accuracy. "I think we''ve been spotted," I said unnecessarily. "Good," Gomorrah said. I heard a whoosh, and when I looked back to where the soldiers were, I could finally see the orange glow of a light in their midst. The pilot light on Gomorrah''s flamethrower. "I''m not one for all of this stealth business," she said. *** Miss Grasshopper - Chapter One Miss Grasshopper - Chapter One Suzette (Sue to everyone but her mom) stepped into the back of the room, then moved to the side. There were thirty-seven students in the classroom, but they didn''t spare her too much attention. All of them, or most of them at least, were focused on the tablets and integrated desk-computers they had. The Quincy Special Education Centre was perhaps one of the most prestigious schools in all of Boston, which was saying something. The mega city had a few thousand schools, and some of the private institutions were quite impressive. There was a reason that this school, Quincy SEC (or Q-SEC), was the best, and it could mostly be traced back to one person. Suzette dreamed of being a teacher ever since... well, it had been a long time. It was something she aspired to from a young age, in any case, and now she was well on her way to becoming just that. A few more months of internship, and she''d be teaching her own classes. Unfortunately, no matter how much she wanted to be a teacher, she knew she''d never be as good as Melanie. The door to the front of the room opened, and the students perked up. Tablets were laid down, screens were returned to their home pages. It was a small miracle that someone could pry their attention away from their screens without even being in the room yet. Then Melanie waltzes in. It wasn''t an exaggeration, the young woman spun into the room with a laugh on her lips and a smile in her eyes. Her dress, this ancient summer dress, far too modest to fit in anywhere, fluttered out around her. It was covered in a pattern of cartoonish bugs and splashes of colour. "Hello everyone!" Melanie said. The children chorused a cacophony of hellos right back. Most of them settled on "Hello Miss Fizz-Snap!" Suzette hugged her own tablet closer to her chest. There was something... magical about Melanie. She didn''t belong in such a dirty, messed up world, and yet here she was. Melanie tapped the board at the front of the room, and like magic, it came on and text scrawled across it in a rainbow hue. "Fraction!" she declared. "They''re not just slices of a pie, but windows into a new world! A world of bits and bobs, broken up to share and admire." These were all special needs kids, Suzette knew. They had comportment issues, or problems keeping focused. She had some classes with them, on occasion, and it was a nightmare to get even half to pay attention. Melanie had each and every one captivated from day one. "Tommy, dear," she said as she tugged a tissue from a sleeve and placed it on the desk of a student near the front. "In our class, we embark on adventures with our minds and hearts, not in our noses." Her wink was a shared secret, and somehow it turned a reprimand into a joke that even Tommy was in on. Suzette laughed with the students, then let out a wistful sigh as Melanie turned her attention to the board. It flicked to a new screen, with colourful explanations of today''s maths lesson, not that Melanie seemed to pay the board any mind. It was an aid, a visual to help the kids that needed to see to understand. Instead, Melanie launched into a story, a silly tale that hid lessons anyway. She asked questions, always to someone who knew the answer, or she''d coax it out of them. In those brief moments, it felt... almost naughty. Melanie would single a kid out, and give them her entire, undivided attention, she''d listen to every word, nod and smile and listen, then she''d guide them to the right answer with a gentle nudge or two. Sue would give a lot to be the centre of that attention. Class was going on as it usually did when Sue received a ping on her augs. Just a little notification in the corner of her vision, but one which was red and flashing. She noticed the way Melanie stiffened for a moment as well. There were only a few things that could poke through her ad-block that way. She made sure she had a good one, after all, and was very careful about permissions. A red flashing warning, one that Melanie received as well... She swallowed and moved to the back of the room, making sure that the door was closed, then she touched her thumb to the electronic handle and swiped right. There was a faint clunk as the door''s emergency lock engaged. Melanie did the same with the front door, all without interrupting her lesson. There were two reasons the teacher alarm might go off. A school shooting, or an alien incursion. Sue was desperately hoping it was a false alarm. Barring that... the shooting would be the better option. She opened the warning. Quincy Special Education Centre All Staff WARNING -THIS IS NOT A DRILL- Coastal Incursion Detected. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.Remain in Class. Lock Doors and Shutter Windows. Keep Students Calm. Gunlockers Auto Unlock On. Sue found herself shaking. No, this was... there had been a coastal invasion a few years ago. A swarm of aliens rushing up the beaches and over the coastal walls. It had taken the militia and a lot of mercenaries days to stem the tide. It was only when a few samurai came in and bombed the shores that the aliens stopped coming, and by then thousands had died. But there was nothing to worry about. They had built newer, better walls since. There were more people on the payroll for defence. Higher taxes too. She remembered her dad complaining about those. Melanie clapped her hands. "Okay my little critters, it''s time for a pop-quiz! You''ll find a worksheet on your tablets. Nothing too hard, I''m sure you''ll all do great if you give it your all!" Melanie sent everyone in the room, Sue included, a small packet with some worksheets. It was the typical colourful sheet that she customised in her spare time. More pages with fewer questions, and little doodles on the sides that usually had small hints tucked away in them. Sue had always wondered how Melanie found the time. Then the woman at the front looked up and caught Sue''s eyes, and she could feel the worry in them before it was hidden behind a reassuring smile. Melanie was just as worried as Sue, but she wasn''t going to let it show in front of the kids. Sue moved to the side of the class, meeting Melanie halfway at the teacher''s desk there. "Do you have permission for the box, Sue?" Melanie asked. Sue shook her head. "I''m still just a temp." "Right, that''s fine then," Melanie said. "Did you have the safety classes yet?" Sue nodded. She had. Twice a month for the first six months. It had felt both perfunctory, and like it wasn''t nearly enough, but the lessons were mandatory. Really, she just had to take the subway to a training building on the edge of the city where a digital instructor went over how to load and unload a gun, how to check if it was safe, how to store it, then it went over how to shoot. Not a real one, but a cheap plastic knock-off that fired little pellets. The safe tucked into the wall behind the desk, with its bio-lock, had real guns. Sue gulped as Melanie casually picked up a folding rifle and placed it on the desk. Then she grabbed a small handgun, still in a sheath, and gave it to Sue. "Just in case." "Right," Sue said. The flashing red alert returned, and she froze up for a moment before Melanie touched her shoulder. "It''ll be okay," Melanie said. She opened the warning, and almost flinched. WALL BREACHED Escort All Students and Staff to Primary Shelter. Remain Calm and Orderly. Melanie clapped her hands together, a big smile returning as if this was nothing at all. "Hey, my little bunnies! Pick up your tablets please. We''re going on a bit of an adventure! Hup hup and hop into a line, just like we practised. That''s right, in alphabetical order. Sue, could you be a dear and unlock the door for us?" She didn''t explain what was going on, but some of the kids seemed to have caught on to the undercurrent of stress anyway. Mostly from Sue, probably. She was feeling twitchier than ever as she rushed to the door and unlocked it. Melanie stepped up to the very front, rifle casually in her arms as if it belonged there as she lead the class out of the room in single-file. Soon enough, Sue followed after, keeping just behind the last student. There were other classes in the corridors. None as organised as Melanie''s... at least, until she got to them. Melanie helped one student to her feet, then gave her a hug and patted her back until she stopped crying. Then she praised another class for being so orderly and neat, her voice carrying through the corridor to other less-neat group who seemed to suddenly snap into their lines. Everything was going well until they reached the bunker. It was a building smack in the middle of the courtyard at the back of the school. A cement lump that opened up to a ramp leading downwards. The entrance had a set of scanners and a door that quickly opened and closed after checking on each student and staff member. Melanie stepped to the side, allowing her group in, then helping others, until, finally, it was only Sue and a few of the staff left. "Are we sure that''s everyone?" Melanie asked, her worry finally showing now that the students were safe. "Everyone that checked in this morning. Not a single student unaccounted for," the gym teacher said. He nodded, then stepped in himself. Sue went next. The door stayed shut. She received another message from the school over their aug-network. Suzette Smith, Intern, Non-Admissable. *** Chapter Fifty-Seven - Hit Everything, Everywhere, All At Once Chapter Fifty-Seven - Hit Everything, Everywhere, All At Once "Mortar fire isn''t great against heavily wooded areas. Not for the first round. Once the forest is burned down, it''s a perfectly viable tool." --Sergeant O''Mally, 1978 *** The moment after the artillery strike landed, the LT. called for his guys to spread out, watch for enemies, and open fire on anything shooting our way. "Mortar teams need coordinates for the enemy artillery," Moreau said over the line. He was surprisingly calm, all things considered. "We have mortar teams?" I asked. "Two of the trucks have roof-mounted mortars," Gomorrah explained. "If you spot something, let us know." "Got it," I said as I climbed back to my feet. The forest was lighting up as the soldiers behind me gave up on going full infra-red and switched on helmet-mounted lights and little flashlights clipped onto their rifles. The light, motion, and sudden sound, didn''t go unnoticed. I started to see motion through the forest in the opposite direction. It wasn''t time for me to be laying my ass down on the ground and waiting, so I rose up, brought my rifle to bear, and started to move sideways. I trusted that the soldiers behind us were pretty decent, but I didn''t want to be in the crossfire anyway. My armour was good, but I wasn''t sure if it was ''point blank armour-piercing rifle round'' good. Hell, even if it was, that shit probably hurt. I was still moving to the side when I noticed some aliens skulking through the underbrush. Small forms, their bodies a deep brown, with a darker green carapace that was moulted and patterned not too differently from some of the pine trees and spikier bushes around. If they had been standing stock still, I might have missed them, but their movement gave them away. I squinted, then raised my gun and took a few quick shots. Silenced rounds, delivered from an invisible person, the slight flash hidden by the trees. The aliens had no idea what hit them. A few missed shots kicked up dirt, or dug into some of the trees, but most of them... some of them, found their way into alien flesh and they went down. "Just model threes here so far," I said. "Likely the early warning models they have on the periphery of the hive," Gomorrah said. "We can expect a lot more resistance if we move inwards." "Yeah, sounds about right. I''m seeing a few threads hanging around too," I said. They were damned hard to notice, with how thin and semi-transparent they were. It was only when the light from the soldiers caught them just right that I spotted the lines. "Try not to walk into them," Moreau said. "They''ll alert the model seventeen of your location, and the next thing you know another bio-bomb will go off right where you''re standing." "Right," I said. "Can I use the lines to trace back where the seventeen is hiding? I''d like to put an end to it if it''s going to be coordinating things for the bastards." There is a relatively inexpensive non-catalogued item that should allow you to do just that. You''ll need to find a piece of the biological wiring that''s properly connected to the network and then touch it with the device. "LT, can I have two minutes before you move up?" I asked. "Just hold your spot, I''ll be trying something." "Affirmative. Stray Cat." I nodded at that, then ran into cover. "What''s this thing?" I asked Myalis. "And how''s it work?" It''s a disposable frequency tapping device. It connects to a model seventeen''s network, copies the current signal going through it, then relays it once again. Most of the time the antithesis ignores the additional signal. I won''t go into the math involved, but the oscillation allows the device to pinpoint the location of the model of origin. The device costs ten points. About as much as a single cheaper grenade? Hell, I''d made three times that just now gunning down a few randoms. "Yeah, I''ll take one," I said. The device was a small black thing, about the size of one of those old tv remotes, with a pair of metallic pincer-shaped arms sticking out of the top. There was only one button on it, and a curious press made the pinches snip closed then open again. Kind of idiot-proof. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I knelt down behind a bush, then found one of the wires on the ground. I had to be quick, there was noise deeper in the forest. The hive was coming awake fully, and it didn''t sound happy about our intrusion. Pinching one of those thin wires with the device, I waited for just a second before Myalis updated my HUD. It seems as if there''s more than one model linked to the network and in control of it. There are also several hundred models connected by these wires across the hive. I can pinpoint the location of several of the leads. "Give their coords to the mortar team. Uh... unless it''s really close to me or the soldiers. Don''t wanna see us getting bombed by our own side. Noted. And sent. I''ll add the coordinates to your map as well. A few red dots appeared on my map. One of them was surprisingly close by. "Stray Cat, we received the coordinates. Mortar team is adjusting to fire now," Lieutenant Moreau said. ''Keep your head low. We want to start and advance after the first strikes land." "Copy that," I said. Then I hesitated. Was copy the one that meant that I understood? I didn''t have time to ask before I heard a strange, echoing whistle overhead. Three of them, all at once. Then the mortars came rushing down some two dozen metres deeper in the woods and I ducked down by instinct as they struck the treeline. Explosions ripped branches apart and sent wooden shrapnel flying all over. A moment passed, as I raised my head up and looked ahead. "LT, looks like that did... jack shit. I think your mortar guys are striking trees and not much else. The, uh... canopy won''t last forever, though." "Noted. I think we only have HE shells with us, nothing penetrative. We don''t have timed fuses." I had no idea what that was, but whatever. "Just shoot each target a few more times. Something will go through eventually." "I don''t know if they brought enough ammo for that," Gomorrah said. "But it should let us clear out this side, at least. We might have to take care of the rest ourselves." That sucked, but whatever. I hadn''t expected mortar support to begin with. Another whistling rain of shells came down, and this time a pair of them made it through the canopy and thumped into the ground. It shook underfoot as the rounds exploded, sending up dirt and debris and flipping half of a carcass into the air with a spray of plant blood. "One down," I said. "Mortar team will continue to soften up the further targets. We''re moving in," the lieutenant said. The soldiers started to move forwards behind me, and I decided to drop my invisibility and jog up to where they were waiting. I saw a few heads turn to track me with their lights before I found Gomorrah and the lieutenant in the centre of the formation. "The hive''s not too far off," Gomorrah said. "Once we''re on the edge, we''ll move in while the soldiers keep our perimetre safe and keep the lane of retreat open." "So we just dip in, plant a big old bomb, then run the hell away?" I asked. "I''d couch it in more professional terms, but essentially yes," Gomorrah said. "Alright! That''s my kind of fun," I said. "Myalis, can I have a small box with a replenishing supply of resonators? Just like, six or so?" Certainly. You''re going to be handing them out? "Like hot cakes," I said. Once the box appeared, I tucked away a pair of grenades and watched two more appear in the case. There was a small dip in my points counter, but nothing bad. "LT. hand these out to the boys. They''re shit at killing aliens, but they last a while and make for good... long-ish term deterrents." "Thank you," he said. He sounded a little emotional about it. "Have some of your guys plant them behind us, it''ll keep a route open from here to our extract. I''ve got this feeling that we''ll be running a lot in the next few minutes." "Yes ma''am," he replied. I might have made a small mistake there, because the soldiers, as silent and professional as they were, were soon passing resonators off to each other. A few were activated and flung way out into the woods. Well, whatever. It meant more dead aliens and more points for me, so I wasn''t going to complain too much about it. *** Chapter Fifty-Eight - Burn Silent Into That Good Night Chapter Fifty-Eight - Burn Silent Into That Good Night "There''s no such thing as an unprepared samurai. Only a samurai who isn''t prepared at the moment... What do you mean, that''s an oxymoron?" --Longbow, to a new samurai, 2056 *** Walking towards mortar fire was... probably not the wisest thing I''d ever done, but so far the army had been pretty professional, and I trusted them to hit more or less where we told them to, instead of bringing down shells right onto my pretty head. Gomorrah and I were at the front of the formation, which had stretched out to the sides with a pair of ''wings.'' Some soldiers were running backwards towards the trucks and the edge of the forest. They were the ones laying quick traps with resonators behind us. Setting up a route that we could use to extract from when the time came to run the hell away. I raised my Laser-pointer up and tapped a model four centre-mass with a trio of shots, which sent it flopping down, very much dead. Gomorrah and I were in the middle of the formation and a bit ahead of all the soldiers. They were moving at a very slow, steady pace. Gom and I were moving at a less steady, less slow pace. "They make walking in the woods look so easy," Gomorrah muttered. I chuckled. "I know, right? Fucking roots, man." "Burn the whole place down. See how these bushes and stuff handle being turned to ash. That''ll be easier to cross." "Hehe," I said. It wasn''t my most convincing chuckle. "Just... hold off on that until we''re through, yeah?" "We''ll see," Gomorrah said. She stomped ahead, and I jogged to catch up. I popped a few more rounds into some aliens that my augs highlighted for me. The light from the soldiers behind and from the pilot light on the end of Gomorrah''s flame thrower was useful, but it wasn''t exactly lighting up the whole world out here. Some aliens were sneaky enough that I only caught sight of them as they moved. "You have any ideas for how to get rid of the hive?" I asked. "I figured you''d want to bomb it," Gomorrah said. "We don''t want to alert all of the other local hives to anything going on here, so I''m afraid we''ll have to be a bit more subtle with the bombing." "Right," I agreed. Bombs could be subtle. Sure. We crossed from the part of the forest that still had some vegetation into an area that was completely cleared of plantlife. Even the trees looked like they had been stripped of their bark, and a number of them had their branches pruned, with what looked suspiciously like little bite marks around the points where those branches met the trunks. Gomorrah stopped, and I did the same a moment later. She raised her flamethrower, then fired a cyclonic blast of twisting flames into the branches above. Usually, the antithesis were deathly quiet. It was one of those things that made them so obviously un-Earthly. They never made a sound. No noise, no screaming, no growling. They squealed as they burned, however. Faint cries that I suspected were more about their lungs boiling than actual screams of pain, but it was still a surreal noise to hear while burning carcases fell from the trees. I could almost, almost see what Gomorrah saw in those flames. I raised my own rifle and put a few out of their misery, then I started scanning ahead. The fire wouldn''t go unnoticed. Not with the dark of night to contrast against the glowing tornado of flames and the now-burning canopy above. Just as I suspected, some aliens took umbrage at Gomorrah''s actions, and the alert was sounded. Dozens of blurs started to rush out towards us. Some were covered in thin layers of fresh mud, hiding them against the ground as they slithered forwards. I took aim, then started firing. A moment later, the area was filled with far more noise as the soldiers did the same. Their guns were equipped with large baffles on the end, and those did a lot to quiet them down, but they were far from perfect, there was a constant cracking sound, like a thousand whips going off at once as the first wave of the hive was annihilated. "Hold!" the lieutenant called. I put down a last dog-like model three, then glanced around. There were lots of dead aliens, most of them spread out ahead of us, but not too much else. The guns mounted to my shoulders scanned along with me, and I switched to infra-red, then to other forms of vision, just in case. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "Looks clear," I said. "For now," Gomorrah said. "Let''s keep moving. I want to get a little closer in." She stepped ahead, stomping through a fire without a care in the world before I jogged after her. I didn''t step right through the flames. Fuck having fire-proof gear on, I wasn''t risking it. I suspect that the main hive is just ahead. You should be within a hundred metres of it already. "Noted," I muttered. There were fewer trees as we moved in deeper. There were stumps, however, and it looked like they''d been assaulted by the mother of all beavers too. "We''ll hold here," Lieutenant Moreau said as we came to the edge of a clearing. We could all see the hive ahead, but I didn''t know what to do about it. I''d seen some hives before. They were all dug into the ground though, or tucked away into a building somewhere. This was... different. "What in the fuck is that?" I asked. A normal above-ground hive. The hive looked like an anthill, if ants slurped up their body mass in steroids every day. It was a massive brown bump, three times as tall as I was and covered in thick, half-buried roots. The roots had small branches coming off of them, with deep, dark-green leaves covering them. From above it probably looked a little strange, but not unlike a weird tree surrounded by a clearing. From here, it was clear that this wasn''t normal, not natural. "Stop gawking," Gomorrah said over a private channel. "This is what normal hives look like when they don''t have an environment to hide in. Check the entrances." That made sense, I supposed. The dirt was clearly pulled from all around, and then piled up over the hill. There were small entrances and holes all over. Some were small enough that my closed fist would barely fit. Others I could crawl into without difficulty. Most had roots around their entrance, acting as supports of sorts. There was some actual engineering going on here. Weird, fucky alien engineering, but engineering all the same. And I was looking forward to blowing it up. "Down!" Gomorrah shouted. I leapt down, crouching on one knee almost too slowly to avoid something blurring past over my left shoulder. Gomorrah had dove aside, missing the blur altogether. Some poor fuck behind us wasn''t so lucky. I heard him screaming a moment before some spines rained down around me. An antithesis artillery ball? I noticed dirt raining down from one of the holes. The damned hive could shoot outwards? "Is that artillery in the hive?" I asked. It''s likely that there''s a model fifteen within, with enough space to manoeuvre. Notice the small wires leading out of the hive. A model seventeen is likely acting as a spotter for it. I didn''t know that was possible at all. Still, we had our own support like that. I sent the coordinates to the mortar team, then raised my gun and took some shots into and around the hole that they''d fired from. Aliens started to pour out of the ground around us. Mostly smaller models that popped out of hidden tunnels and scurried our way. Some of them weren''t the kinds of models I was used to seeing. Headless, monkey-like model tens scampered and tossed themselves our way. Some... tentacled things that I didn''t recognize got some rounds punched through them as well. I saw and heard a few resonators fly overhead while the night was lit up by muzzle flashes and swaying flashlights. "Myalis!" I shouted as I reloaded in a hurry. "I need something that produces some light! And I need... fuck it, something that''ll shake the earth a little. Let''s collapse their little anthill right on their ugly heads." "I like that idea!" Gomorrah shouted next to me before she opened up with her flamer and drew a line of fire across the clearing. "If you''re gonna do that, please do so in a hurry." "Hey, it wouldn''t be so quick if I knew what we were getting into," I snapped back. This whole thing was a disorganised mess. Still... kinda fun. *** Miss Grasshopper - Chapter Two Miss Grasshopper - Chapter Two Suzette wanted to cry. She could feel the tears coming, stinging her behind her eyes. It wasn''t a nice sensation, but... she felt like it was understandable, at the moment. The nearest shelter to the school was... several blocks away, and it was a public shelter. The sort of place no one wanted to be caught in. There might have been a few others dotted across the city, but those would be private, or owned by the corporation whose building they were hidden within. She wouldn''t have any more luck with those. A hand pressed against her shoulder, and she almost jumped in fright. "Give me a minute," Melanie said. "What?" Suzette asked. Then Melanie turned to some of the other teachers. They were very pointedly not looking at Sue. "Do you have extra magazines? There should be three per gun, right?" "Are you serious?" the English teacher--his name escaped Suzette at the moment--asked. "Very," Melanie said. "And I wouldn''t mind an extra handgun either. Or a rifle. We split what we had already." The teachers seemed reluctant, but they weren''t bad people. Melanie was given one of their rifles, along with a few extra magazines, then an extra handgun and more magazines for that as well. They slipped past Suzette, not meeting her eyes, not looking her way, but still... they knew she was there, otherwise they wouldn''t be going around her so much. Sue took in a deep breath from her nose, and if it was a little sniffly, then that was on her. "Hmm, where can we sit?" Melanie asked as she looked around. Sue turned her way. She had a hand out towards Sue, with a rifle grabbed by its middle. Her purse, which was more of a satchel filled with toys and teaching supplies and a few knick-knacks, was hanging by her hip, filled to the brim with spare ammunition now. "What are you doing?" Sue asked. "Keeping a student safe," Melanie said. She gave Sue a soft smile. "You''re an intern, which means you''re here to learn, which means that I''m your teacher, no? A good teacher doesn''t abandon a student, even if they''re a little troublesome." "No," Sue said. "You can''t stay out here, it''s--" "It''s fine," Melanie said. "They''ll probably not make it this far, and we don''t need to stand out where it''ll be easy for them to get to us if they do make it here." She pointed to the main school building, up at the upper floors. "Oh, Miss Fizz, you... you don''t have to. You''re allowed to be in the shelter." Melanie shook her head and smiled. "Come on, we can talk! I''ve been meaning to have a good heart-to-heart with someone for a while. It''s good for the soul, you see." Suzette couldn''t decide if she should cry or laugh. Instead of either, she picked up the rifle and slung its strap over her shoulder. She was wearing sensible pants, with small pockets, so she had space to stuff a few magazines away. They took a moment to sort through what they had. Seven magazines. Four for the two rifles, three for the two handguns. That wasn''t including those already in the guns themselves. That was a decent amount of ammunition, Sue figured. Melanie checked her gun''s chamber, then nodded. "Come on! We can talk along the way." "Where are we going?" Sue asked. She followed Melanie anyway, feeling rather small as she kept up. "Upper floor, one down from the roof. I want a good view of the playground. If the aliens come sniffing at the shelter, then I want to be able to take a good shot at them." "Oh," Sue replied. It made some sense, she supposed. She wasn''t sure how good of a shot she was, not with only a few hours at the range to show for it, but she''d give it a try. "You don''t have to," she said again. "I know," Melanie replied without looking back. "But I''ll stay anyway." "Why?" Sue asked. If she was in Melanie''s dinosaur-print Mary Janes, she wasn''t sure she''d be so quick to sacrifice herself. "Because if I was where you are, I''d want someone to stay with me," Melanie said. "Do you know what the most important lesson you can teach a student is?" "I''m assuming it''s not addition," Sue said. Melanie laughed, clear and happy. "No, though that''s not a bad start. It''s empathy. If everyone everywhere was able to see things from a perspective that wasn''t just their own, then I think the world would be a much kinder, nicer place. But empathy is hard to teach. It''s impossible to teach if you''re not willing to show it yourself." Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. "Oh," Sue said. She kept to herself as they climbed the stairs up and up to the topmost floor. By the end, her knees and calves were aching and she was a little sweaty. Melanie leaned against the door at the top of the stairs for a moment, then tugged at the neck of her blouse. "Woo! That''s my cardio for the day! And here I thought I was keeping up with my exercises." "Yeah," Sue agreed. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. She didn''t want to look like a mess, not right now. But, then again, this wasn''t a time to be concerned about appearances. "Let''s close the door up behind us," Melanie said. "There''s a teacher''s lounge up here, have you been?" "Not to this one," Sue admitted. The upper floors were for the middle-school students. The staff that taught them wasn''t quite the same as the primary-school staff. They worked for the same school so they mingled, but they had their own office space and lounge. "I did some middle-school teaching for a bit," Melanie said. "But, to be honest, I prefer working with the younger students. They''re so much more receptive. Then again... I guess that''s not fair of me. Middle-schoolers are just discovering themselves. They''re learning who they really are in a way that the younger kids aren''t. I think that might be when they most need the help and guidance that a good teacher and friend can give them." "I suppose," Sue agreed. The lounge was a decently large room, with a few sofas and a long row of windows overlooking the playground. Melanie almost immediately started moving things around, grabbing a sofa by the edge and dragging it towards the doorway. "Let me help," Sue said before she jumped to do just that. "Thank you," Melanie replied. Soon enough, they had the door barricaded, though Sue suspected that if something really wanted in, they could burst through the thin walls. There was a long window on the inside, looking into the corridor just behind. "Alright, let''s settle down, then, huh?" Melanie asked as she pulled up a chair and brought it closer to the window. "Should we open the windows?" Sue asked. "Oh, the latches are decorative. They don''t actually open," Melanie replied. "We''ll have to shoot through them, I''m afraid." That was... typical. Sue grabbed a chair, and settled in next to Melanie. Her heart was still beating hard, though she couldn''t tell if it was the climb or the stress or something else. She sat with a rifle across her lap, feeling tired, wired, and like she wanted to be elsewhere. "I hope the kids are alright," Melanie muttered. Her attention was obviously on the playground below. There were a few vents poking out of the ground next to some of the jungle gyms. Those lead down into the shelter, feeding air to the students. "I hope so too," Sue said. "You, ah, really care, don''t you?" "I do." "How?" Melanie looked at Sue and smiled. It made Sue''s heart ache. Her gaze softened and when she spoke, her voice was gentle, yet firm. "How? Because caring isn''t just a choice, Sue, it''s a commitment. Every day, in little ways, we choose to either care or not. And that choice, it defines us more than anything else. When we see someone in need, when we encounter fear or uncertainty, we have a choice--to turn away or to stand firm and offer a helping hand. I choose to care, to stand, because that''s who I am, and who I believe we all can be." "But, I''m afraid," Sue admitted. Melanie placed a reassuring hand on Suzette''s shoulder. "We''re here, in this moment, facing something terrifying, but we''re not alone. We have each other, and as long as we stand together, there''s always hope." Sue found herself smiling back, at least, until she saw the first dark form slinking along through the playground, on the prowl for something innocent to defile and eat. The Antithesis were here, and Suzette wasn''t sure how Melanie''s hope would stand up to their reality. *** 10,000 Followers! Heya Samurai, I know, I know, it''s not a chapter, or really important news, but still, I wanted to make a thank-you post, and it''s 2:27AM, and I''m a little emotional, so you''re going to have to endure my enthusiasm for a moment! Stray Cat Strut has hit 10,000 followers! That''s... that''s kind of insane! SCS started a pretty long time ago, but I remember taking several long walks while I hashed out the details of the story. It was relatively soon after I started Cinnamon Bun, and I wanted to write something special. It took some time, but I eventually decided that I wanted to write a story that was written in a way that it was easy for people to want to project themselves into the story. So I looked to stories where that''s easy and took notes and inspiration from them. It probably doesn''t show too much, but the main inspirations for Stray Cat Strut''s system are Worm by Wildbow, RWBY, and Harry Potter. Stories that have a large fanbase and avid readers. I wanted that, a world that people could project themselves, or a cooler version of themselves, into. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. As far as stylistic and genre influences, Stray Cat Strut mostly has its roots in classic Cyberpunk. Neuromancer and Snow Crash are some of my faves. There''s also a heavy dash of BAHHSSCQ in there! (If you can find that one, give it a read, and all hail Bread-chan!) Anyway, I''m rambling a little. I''ve had a lot of cool ideas, and some less-cool ones, and most of the time they only end up being a little novel that I write mostly for myself, with few readers and fewer fans. I''m really happy that Stray Cat Strut was one of the exceptions, and that so many people have come to enjoy it this much! I still have a lot of ideas to explore, and stories to tell within this world, so don''t worry! I''ll only end when my heart finally give out <3 Thank you, sincerely, for being here and for reading and commenting and just being part of this! Keep warm; stay cool, RavensDagger Chapter Fifty-Nine - Hot Hives in Your Area! Chapter Fifty-Nine - Hot Hives in Your Area! "We don''t like the term trailer trash, we find it all sorts of offensive to our long heritage and ancestral culture. My great great grandfather bought that trailer with his own money. If you need to call us something, then perhaps ''Trailer-privileged Community,'' would be more respectable." --Jim "All Teeth" Vincerella, 2038 *** "Myalis, ''nade. Something high explosive," I said as I brought my left arm back. Something small and weighty fell into my hand, and my thumb naturally touched upon a trigger. It started to beep a moment before I flung my arm forwards. The grenade sailed through the air, then smacked on the bottom lip of one of the holes in the hive. It bounced, then rolled in, disappearing from sight into the darkness within. I brought my arm back around and continued to shoot. Gomorrah was laying down a wall of fire that didn''t seem to want to extinguish, even with nothing to burn. It looked like her gun had shifted from firing... well, fire, to launching large, swelling masses of some goopy material that formed a large barricade ahead of us. That barricade was, of course, on fire, and any alien that tried to climb over it soon found themselves glued onto a surface that was literally burning. They''d tug and thrash and sink in deeper into the goop even as they burned alive. It was a sight to see. I took a few of the smaller ones out of their misery, but I had bigger, meaner targets to focus on just behind the line of fire. Then the grenade in the hill went off. Myalis hadn''t cheaped out on the ''high'' part of the explosive. The hill exploded outwards, man-sized chunks of dirt and roots flying away from the top while a rush of looser dirt was flung upwards and out. I ducked my head as small pebbles and clods came raining down all around me. Some of them landed on Gomorrah''s fire, as well as a few larger stones that could serve as stepping stones, at least until she started hosing those down too. "Did that do it?" I asked as I stood back up. The tactical com from the soldiers registered a few scuffs. One guy was swearing up a storm as he''d been smacked in the face by a jagged piece of rock. I felt a little bad for the guy, but that was the price for playing with high explosives. "No notification," Gomorrah pointed out. "The hive''s still alive." "I can toss in a few more," I suggested. I had earned plenty more points from that stunt than the cost of a single grenade, after all. "Let''s move up instead. We don''t know how deep it goes. Lieutenant, hold here, if you can. If it becomes too hot, then feel free to start pulling back." "Acknowledged, Samurai Gomorrah, we''ll hold," the LT said. That was simple enough, then. "So, we charge in?" I asked as I took a second to reload. "We can at least get to the edge of the hive," Gomorrah said. "I have some new equipment that I haven''t had the opportunity to field test yet. Your equipment is heat-proof, right?" "Uh, a little?" "We might want to set it off from afar, then. Just in case. I''m looking into replacing my skin with something less flammable. You might want to do the same." "I''ll add it to the list," I said. Once I got back home, I was probably going to give in and get a few upgrades. I didn''t wanna go full cyborg, but maybe being faster and tougher wouldn''t be so bad. Gomorrah moved up, and I trailed right after her. She''d left a gap open in the wall of fire. It was still damned close to the flames, but there was a gap that we could cross without getting cooked. The antithesis had noticed too, and were crowding on the other end. At least, until Gomorrah switched the nozzle from ''tight'' to ''spray'' and lit the fuckers right up. I shot into the bunch as well, punching holes into the tougher models that didn''t seem to mind being on fire as much. Honestly though, this... wasn''t that much of a challenge. I had decent gear. Gomorrah was burning everything down, and we still had a few mortar strikes coming in and blowing up the antithesis on the other side of the hill long before they got to us. The soldiers were staying behind, but that didn''t mean they weren''t working. They fired ahead, landing shots more often than not. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. We reached the hive, and I stepped up to the edge of it and aimed down into the hole. There were large roots squirming around within, and a few smaller models trying to climb their way out of the crater we''d left. I put them down, taking my time while Gomorrah knelt down next to me. She tossed something small within and it made a loud beeping noise before going quiet. "The hive extends another five metres down, with some tendrils reaching the water table below," she said. "That doesn''t sound good." "I doubt they''ll have spread through the entire thing. They probably just tapped into it for fresh water. Even the antithesis need water to operate. Well, they use it when they have it, at least." "So, blow it all to hell?" I asked. "Burn it all," she suggested. Gomorrah summoned up a small box, opened it, then tugged out a cylinder with a pair of handholds on the sides. It reminded me a little of those rugged speakers some cool types carried around and set on the corners they hung out on so that everyone could enjoy the shit noise they called music. Only this one had a bit more ''bomb'' in its DNA. Gomorrah tossed it down into the hole, then sprayed the top of it with burning goop. "Is that, uh, wise?" "It''s fire-proof," she said. "At least, until I set it off. We shouldn''t be here when it does go off." "Alrighty," I said as I started back. We beat a steady retreat. By the time we were back at Gomorrah''s firewall, there was barely any resistance left. The soldiers were waiting for us still, and we all started back through the woods as a big unit. There was no stealth this time. We had lights out, and resonators screeching along our entire path. "We''re far enough," Gomorrah said after a long silence. I didn''t have time to ask anything when she activated her bomb. I felt the rush of warmth pressing against my back, as if I was standing next to a bum fire. The forest lit up in reds and oranges, and when I looked back and squinted, I saw that the sky was painted in the same colours. "Wow. That was a big one?" "Eh, medium sized," she said. "It''ll boil the water table a little, but that''s probably for the best. Most antithesis don''t survive boiling like that. We''re going to need to comb through the unburnt parts of the forest for remnants." Lieutenant Moreau shielded his eyes while looking around. "We''ll have a team come in and do just that," he said. "That''s one of our specialities." "Get to it, then. I don''t see much fun in rooting around in the dirt for a few last aliens," I said. It was important work, but it sounded tedious as hell. "Do you... want us to start right now, ma''am?" the lieutenant asked. I blinked, then checked my wording there. "No, I meant... just make sure it''s done. I''m sure your guys want some time off as much as I do. Not that tonight was very hard. This was pretty easy, actually." "A couple of thousand points, but for relatively low-risk," Gomorrah said. "I''m starting to understand and appreciate those samurai who specialise specifically in hive removal like this. It might be tedious, but it''s not nearly as dangerous as being on the front line of a large surge, or tripping over first responders during an active incursion." "Yeah," I said. It probably took a special kind of nut job to want to be out there when an incursion was just starting up. On the edges it probably wasn''t so bad, but I was pretty sure the centre of a new incursion had all sorts of nasties. Then again, that''s why people like Deus Ex showed up. "Hey, any news from Mars?" I asked Gomorrah in a private channel. "I haven''t looked into it in a few hours, but they were launching a big offensive. If it goes well, I think they''ll be on their way back." "Huh," I said. That might be... big, actually. "So we''ll be able to chill while the big boys do all the hard work?" "I hope so," Gomorrah said. "But that might be a while off. Travel from Earth to Mars isn''t instantaneous, you know?" "Right, right," I said. "So... think I can bum a ride back home? We do live in the same building and all." Gomorrah just sighed. *** Chapter Sixty - How To Skin A Cat Chapter Sixty - How To Skin A Cat "Hair-loss is such a 2010s problem. Beautiful, full, healthy hair! Hair so strong you can strangle a man with it. Hair in such a wide array of colours and styles that you''ll want to replace it every week, just so that you can try something new and dazzle your friends with how incredibly unique you are! --Because We''re Worth It campaign, 2035 *** As much as I would have loved to sleep in as much as I wanted, I had shit to do, and time was pressing ever onwards. Myalis woke me up with increasingly hard nudges at around five in the morning. I stumbled out of bed and to the shower. Fortunately, the water did help to wake me up some, which... was more than necessary. With only a few hours of sleep in me, I wouldn''t be very useful. Some was better than none, but it didn''t feel like it just then. "Alright," I said as I stepped out and smacked my cheeks before the mirror. I let out a sigh, then looked at my reflection. I had some bags under my eyes. Nothing too alarming, but it wasn''t pretty. My hair was matted down, and I could only barely make out the once-vibrant blue of one of my bangs. Still hadn''t gotten around to fixing that. Are you well? "I''m fine," I said. "What''s my point-total looking like?" Current Points: 34,771 Not bad. I''d spent a few here and there, not just on consumables, but on crap that I probably didn''t need, but last night... this morning''s run, had buffed things back up a little. "I''ve been putting a few things off," I said. Are you preparing yourself mentally for some upgrades? "You don''t need to spell it out like that," I said. "But, yeah, pretty much. I think I''m starting to get to the point where I should be a lot better than I am. I don''t wanna go full-borg though." Your current augmentations include one self-healing system in your chest, a pair of prosthetic ears, a cybernetic eye, and your arm. You have spent relatively little on improving your physicality. At the same time, you have access to two relevant blueprints. One for the Feline Cat Reflex Augmentation suite, and one for some prosthetic ear implants. "The blueprints are mostly if I want to make that shit myself, no?" I asked. Yes, and if you had the time and surgical systems to install them, then that would be the less expensive option, though obviously time isn''t something you have in great supply at the moment. "Right," I agreed. Then I placed a hand on the counter. "Okay, this is what I want, mostly, I need to move faster. I don''t just mean like, physically, I mean... my reflexes, I want to act quicker and have more time to react to shit. It''ll make up for me not being able to think as quick." Something could be arranged. "And I need to be a little tougher. Like I said, I don''t wanna be a borg, but I don''t think it would hurt if I was harder to kill." I pinched the skin on my arm a little with my cybernetic arm. It was squishy. I had been wearing my undersuit, and then some armour on top of that. I had a decent suit of power armour waiting for me in the bedroom. The Tiger''s Mane. It was damned tough and pretty stealthy and had cost me a little chunk of change. I didn''t need to replace that just yet. Plus for any big engagements, I''d be in my mech. So that was... several layers of safety. The mech, the power armour, the undersuit. But past that? All flesh and bone. Understood. Here are my suggestions: First, for the reflex adjustments, you''ll likely want to avoid anything too sudden. I would advise three items, totalling nine hundred points. That was on the steep side, but I was also a point-pincher, and it was something that would help in the long run. "Go on." The first is a set of nerve replacements. The second is a system to actually introduce these to your body. The last is a mental-reflex enhancement system. The nerve replacements would change out your current nervous system for a bio-electrical system that runs via minute electrical discharges. The main sheath would run through your spine and out across your body. "That''s more or less what I was imagining, for the nervous bit, how are we, uh, getting that installed? Am I gonna be flensed alive?" That''s what the second purchase is for. A small vat of medical nanites plugged into your bloodstream with access to microfilaments of the nerve replacement. They''ll travel through your body and replace your nerves. This will not be pleasurable, but it won''t hurt, either. The transfer should take approximately two days, assuming you don''t get injured in that time. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. "So... what, I swallow both?" No, the system will hook into your back, along your spinal cord. It''ll feel similar to a heating pad placed along the centre of your back. The final item will be inserted along the base of your skull. It''s an injection that will travel to your brain and reconstruct itself into a small computerised system linked between your meat brain and your new mechanical nervous system. I took a deep breath and looked at myself in the mirror. "Will it be worth it?" I asked. Your reflexes will slowly but steadily improve over the course of a week or less. You will be able to command your limbs to move faster. "Command my limbs to move faster?" I asked. "Not actually make them move faster?" They are still organic, and you don''t seem interested or ready to replace all of your musculature or bones. "Ah, no, yeah, okay." I shivered. This was already pushing it. I... didn''t mind the cybernetic arm, much. I''d never really fucked with prosthetics before. They felt like they were a shitty replacement for something I''d lost. This one was fine. Better than a real arm, but it didn''t feel entirely... me. I did appreciate the vibrating function, but it was not... eh, whatever. I''d need a real good therapy AI to get over that hangup. At the end of the day, I still wanted to be me. New nerves? That wasn''t so bad. I''d get used to them. New muscles and bones and probably all the rest? Fuck, at that point I might as well tuck my brain in a jar and pilot a suit. I knew there were some samurai that did just that. "Okay, what about being tougher?" I asked. Would you be partial to skin replacement? "That sounds horrific," I said. It''s less invasive than you''d think, all things considered. I can have the skin replacement take a similar approach. A suite of nanomachines that would slowly replace all of your skin with fresh, new skin laced with materials to improve it. Your skin would flake off, as it does already, though at an accelerated rate. The replacement skin will be indistinguishable to human sight, but it will be less conductive, slightly thicker, and capable of resisting minor cuts and abrasions. It would also have a series of capillaries beneath the surface to better allow regenerative materials to travel through your skin. You would, essentially, heal faster and bleed less. "Would it be bullet-proof?" No, but the average Earth dog would find you exceptionally hard to bite through. Sensation-wise, you''ll retain your sense of touch, though it may be improved slightly. You will be more touch-sensitive. Your skin would also be much smoother to the touch, and should you manage to live that long, will wrinkle far less with age. "Okay, okay," I said. "Any downsides?" You''ll need new hair. "Uh." Yes, all over. Though, only where you wish new hair to be. Your current hair will fall off, though it won''t be immediate. You''ll have a day or two before it starts to come off. You might want to consider shaving your head before that happens, then picking a suitable replacement. Right, that wasn''t that bad. There were lots of fake hair replacement things out there. Neon coloured hair was pretty common, as was RGB hair, and there were wilder things out there. Self-styling hair, and hair that could move itself and shit. "Yeah, I''d be alright with that. How much is this skin stuff?" I asked. Five hundred and fifty points. This one will require that you drink a rather large bottle of a liquid substance. You will find that it has no taste. "It tastes like water?" No. The actual taste is horrific. Your sense of taste will be deactivated almost as soon as you first smell it. It''ll return to normal within the hour. "Oh, great," I said. "Well, let me get started with one of those super-coffees of yours. I think I need one if I''m going to be doing all of this shit." Of course! I''ll make it extra-strong. Maybe the taste will linger a little. *** Miss Grasshopper - Chapter Three Miss Grasshopper - Chapter Three Sue held back a scream as the barricade at their door buckled. The desk they''d shoved up against it squealed against the floor as it was pushed back. Attracting the alien''s attention had been... perhaps not the best idea she''d ever had. At the moment, Melanie was crouching behind another desk, using a metal ruler''s tip to pry a bullet out of the barrel of her rifle. "Can you take care of that one?" she asked nicely. "Got it," Sue said. She gingerly crossed the room, her attention split between the doorway and the window overlooking the playground. They hadn''t seen any flying aliens nearby, but she was acutely aware that they existed and that they might come to get them soon enough. The door buckled again, and a long, toothy maw pried itself in between the crack of the doorway and sniffed audibly. Sue levelled her handgun at the alien''s face, firmed up her grip, set her feet quickly, then aimed between the two little posts at the side of the gun until the glowing nub on the end of the barrel and the two posts were all even with the alien''s face. She pulled the trigger, and there was a loud bang, then another, and another. It took three carefully placed shots for the alien to finally pull back, its face punched through in two spots and a third hole pierced through the door just a few centimetres off. "It''s not dead," she said. "These guns fire point-two-five ACP," Melanie said. "They have as much kinetic power as a well-thrown bouncy ball." Sue nodded, then looked at the little gun in her hand. That had been three rounds, which meant that there were nine left before she had to reload. She resisted the temptation to do that right away, she didn''t have many magazines, and she didn''t want to end up with a pocket-full of half-empty ones. And this was definitely a situation that called for avoiding half-empty things. "I think it''s bleeding a little," Sue said as she leaned to the side and tried to see out of the crack. There was a glimpse of the alien pulling away and shaking its dog-like head, and some splatters of greenish-black blood. "I don''t know if the aliens can bleed out," Melanie replied. "I mean... I suppose they ought to, if they need blood and you exsanguinate them." "Don''t we have a module on alien biology?" Sue asked. "I think later in the year?" It was strange just how... normal the discussion was. Death was lingering on the other side of the door, but here they were talking about which classes were coming up on their schedule. "It''s near the end of the year, for the eight-graders. But I never really spent much time teaching biology," Melanie said. "I''ve done some substitution work, and I keep up with the material, but... well, maybe I''m a bit of a failure in that respect. It''s hard for me to remember everything if I''m not actively preparing to teach it." "No, I think that''s normal," Sue replied. "It would be hard to remember the entire curriculum. I''m sure we could pull it up." "Sure," Melanie replied. Sue almost jumped out of her own skin as the alien returned, bashing its head into the crack with more force before pulling back. The strike had shoved the desk back a centimetre or so. She leaned back, then pushed against it with a foot, but it was too heavy to move without putting her back into it, and that would mean being far closer to the door than she wanted. So, instead, she aimed at the opening and waited. This time, when the alien shoved its head into the crack, she fired at it twice, and it fell back with an additional pair of holes in its face. "That''s... seven left," she said, looking at her gun. "Might want to be careful with that count," Melanie said. "I''ve heard stories of those magazines being a round short every so often." "Seriously?" Sue asked. "The way they check to see how many rounds are loaded is by weight, and the tolerance is... loosy-goosy, sometimes. At least, that''s the story I heard," Melanie replied. Sue shook her head. There was no way that was true. It sounded more like the kind of excuse a corporation''s PR team would come up with to justify some cost-saving method. If one in every five magazines was one round short, then they''d save... some amount of money. "Oh, got it," Melanie said as she stood. Sue glanced over to see Melanie place a bullet, shell and all, onto the desk. The end of it was opened up, and the actual bullet part was long gone. The shell looked like it had deformed in the barrel a little, which was probably what caused the jam. She wasn''t a weapon''s expert or anything--not that she was averse to learning--but something told her that the issue here was a confluence of cheap gun and cheap bullet meeting in the middle to create a small mess. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Melanie closed the little breech on her rifle, then pulled back the tab-thing on the side to get another round in. "Let''s see if this works," she said. The older teacher came to stand next to Sue and aimed into the crack by the door. When the dog-alien shoved its head into the entrance again, Melanie fired three times before her gun made a noise. That was enough, the bigger rounds punched into the alien''s head and it flopped down onto the desk, very dead. "It''s jammed again," Melanie said. "Take the other rifle, I guess," Sue said. "Better than nothing," Melanie replied as she pulled out the magazine and set the gun aside. "I''ll still try to fix it, you never know." "Right," Sue agreed. She paused. Now what? "Should we... move?" "I think that might be a mistake," Melanie said. "But then again... they''ll know we''re here, won''t they?" "There''s something about pheromones secreted by dead antithesis... wow, I really do need to brush up on my xenobiology," Sue said. She giggled, then stopped as the sound felt utterly wrong in this context. "There''s an office a few rooms down," Melanie said. "The vice-principal''s. It shouldn''t be locked, and if it is, I know the code for the door. I think there might be another weapon safe in there." "Wouldn''t they have taken it?" Sue asked. "Off for the week," Melanie replied. "Oh... well, yes, that makes sense," Sue said. "Okay... help me move the desk back?" It took a bit, but soon enough the two of them were sneaking their way out of the classroom. Sue gingerly stepped over the corpse by the doorway. A model two, if she wasn''t mistaken. She remembered calling them ''Bad Doggies'' in her notes, which was a fairly common name for this kind. She never expected, or wanted, to be this close to one, living or dead. The school was strangely quiet. She''d never heard the school without the constant chatter and squeaking of a dozen shoes, a hundred children talking. Even during the weekend, or after the school was closed, it never quite went away. The hallways had the same sort of silence, an emptiness that felt almost tangible. Sue almost jumped when Melanie''s hand touched her own. The older woman was holding her rifle in her off-hand so that she could hold onto Sue. Sue was reassured, for a moment, before she realized that Melanie''s hand was trembling. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper. "Do you know why I became a teacher?" Melanie asked. Sue shook her head. They stopped at a corner. Sue was holding the pistol, and she peeked around. Nothing. Sue kept glancing at the other teacher, wondering where this was going. After a minute, Melanie spoke. "My mother was a teacher. Not at this school. She was a primary school teacher at a state-funded school. One of the bad ones. She was... good. Great, even. There''s a difference, you know, between a teacher that''s good at teaching, and a teacher who is a great teacher." "I... don''t understand," Sue admitted. "Being good means knowing how to teach. Knowing the material, the best practices, how to reach out to students and help them understand and be prepared," Melanie said. "Being great means more than that. It means caring for your students. My mother was great." "Was," Sue repeated. "She was shot by one of her students. He was troubled, had a hard time with a lot of things, but my mom kept trying to reach out to him. I miss her." "Oh," Sue said. They reached the vice-principal''s office, and Melanie tried the door. It clicked open. "Easy-peasy," she said with a smile that she shared with Sue. She was just opening the door with a crackle that sounded a lot like broken glass being shifted when Sue noticed that there was something wrong. Her brain barely registered what it was before Melanie gasped. Her hand was wrenched away from Sue''s, her rifle went off, tracing bullets along the wall and ceiling and making enough noise that Sue found herself screaming even as she flinched away. When she opened her eyes, she discovered blood and hungry alien eyes. *** Chapter Sixty-One - With Great Cats Comes Great Responsibility Chapter Sixty-One - With Great Cats Comes Great Responsibility "Not all samurai are capable of command. It''s a common myth, and something seen in plenty of media, but whatever selection process exists for samurai, it doesn''t select them based on their ability to lead. Still, every so often one of them will step up and do a good enough job of it that it''s worth noting." --"On Samurai and the Role of Leader" Extract, the Family Internal Press, 2049 *** I exited the bathroom and discovered that Lucy wasn''t alone in bed. She had company. Company in the form of a large robotic cat, the one I''d bought for her in Burlington. It was laying like a sphynx on the bed, head turned towards the doorway and eyes slowly scanning the room. "Isn''t that thing cold?" I asked, keeping my voice low so that I wouldn''t wake Lucy up. It''s capable of regulating its temperature for stealth purposes. At the moment, the unit is overheating itself to give off a comforting amount of warmth. It''s part of its bodyguarding routines. That explained why Lucy had one leg over the cat''s back and her face pressed into its flank. I walked over to the bed, tugged the blankets free a little, then covered Lucy properly. She didn''t even stop her quiet snoring as I tucked her in and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "Keep her warm," I advised the cat mech, and it nodded its big head. I had to get ready, which meant putting on my undersuit, something which immediately proved somewhat difficult. The two processes I''d just started left me feeling... tingly. It wasn''t super noticeable if I wasn''t looking for it, but my skin was itchy in a few random spots, as if I had the start of an allergic reaction. That, and my nerves were already being rewired, but it wasn''t entirely even. I closed a hand, only to feel like some fingers responded slightly faster than others. It was off but just in a small way. I wasn''t even sure if I wasn''t just imagining it. The nervous system upgrade will settle soon enough. Given six or so hours, the upgrade will have spread across your entire nervous system. The remaining time will be spent on the installation of reinforcements and adjustments. Until then, you might feel slightly uncalibrated in your actions. "Good to know," I muttered as I scratched my side. Yeah, there was definitely an itch. I slipped the skinsuit on anyway, pulling it on tight and bouncing on the spot to make sure the leg portion was tugged all the way up. Next was my power armour. That was far easier to get on, all I had to do was step into it, and the armour folded itself around me and locked into place. I tilted my head left and right, making sure my neck was loose, then shifted the arms a little before I twisted my waist around back and forth. Everything felt alright. If anything, that slight delay in motion with the suit might normalise any of the weirdness from the nerve upgrades. "Okay," I muttered. "I think I''m ready." I slipped out of the room, popped into my armoury, picked up my Laser Pointer, Trenchmaker, and a handful of grenades, then made my way to the elevator. But not before pausing to scratch Catkiller on the head and to nod to Chonkers, the spy drone-cat who was loafing in the middle of the corridor, right where someone might trip over it. I rode the elevator down to the garage, then stepped up to my mech. I wanted to repair it on my own, but needs must, so I''d left the Repair Drone to the task. It looked decent, from the outside. The experience wasn''t lost, because I at least knew enough, now, to tell that it looked decent as I climbed into the mech''s cockpit and closed it up behind me. I linked up to the mecha''s system, then checked the diagnostics. It all came back green, which was... better than I could realistically manage on my own. "Alright. Let''s get moving," I said. I stepped out into the main part of the garage, and found two construction drones waiting for me with a hastily-assembled system of scaffolds. I stepped the mech into the scaffolds, then felt a moment of weightlessness as the construction drones rose up and pulled the mech up along with them. It was a bit kludged, but it would do for the moment. I''d look into buying a dedicated transportation... thing, later. Maybe a small moving-van-sized car that was decently fast and roomy? But then I''d never be able to get a really big mech. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. That was something to consider. Maybe a flatbed? The construction drones weren''t smart-smart, but with Myalis at the helm they turned and pulled out of the garage. I felt a faint twinge of vertigo as the mech''s very good sensor suite--fed directly into my brain--told me exactly how high up I was at the moment. The drones flew onwards, making a straight path out of the city. I had very little to actually do, in that moment, so I pulled up my private little chatroom with Gomorrah and pinged her. "Hey, are you up?" I asked. "I have been for an hour," Gomorrah said. "I''m at the forward base. The same one we met earlier. We''re waiting for you to show up." "Right, I''m on my way. ETA, uh, call it twenty minutes?" "The operation''s launching at six AM," Gomorrah said. "And it''s... not six AM yet," I pointed out. "Cat, it''s five fifty-nine." I refused to acknowledge that. I wasn''t late, I was just a little unearly was all. "I''ll be there soon enough," I said. And I was. Flying over the scene, I could make out a long convoy headed by some tanks and APCs, with a couple of mobile bases in the middle and middle-rear. The back of the convoy had more tanks, but also a few dozen large supply trucks and a lot of pretty normal looking vans and all-black city buses. I noticed a familiar car following one of the mobile bases. The Fury looked entirely misplaced in the middle of a line of tanks and army vehicles, but I knew it probably packed more of a punch than the entire front line of tanks. My construction drones scooted ahead, and then I was unceremoniously dropped from a few metres up way ahead of the formation. I walked the mech out of the scaffolding, then watched the drones pick it up and fly off. With a mental touch, I opened the canopy of the mech, then pushed myself up to standing. It was less about being able to see things for myself than it was for morale. I wasn''t a genius when it came to that kind of thing, but I figured... well, if I was some poor fuck in army greens at the moment, seeing a massive cat-shaped warmech with a samurai standing casually on it would give me a serious boost when it came to morale. The front row of tanks squeezed into the side as they passed, and a few of their crew sticking their heads out of opened hatches waved my way. I waved back, then jumped down from my mech and walked across the road in time to jump into one of the slow-moving mobile bases. The mech closed up behind me, then leapt into the formation to saunter along next to the Fury. I found Gomorrah in the mobile base''s main room, arms crossed and impassive mask turned down to stare at one of those needlessly fancy holographic maps that command-types probably had wet-dreams about. "Yo," I said. "Good to see you joining us," Gomorrah said. "I hope you had some good rest. It''s going to be a long campaign." "Campaign?" I asked. "I thought this was a day-long thing?" "Days long, more like," she replied before looking up to me. My comms crackled for a second before she spoke directly into my ear, the others in the room kept out of the loop. "We''re waiting for news from Mars. But I heard some hints that it''s not all good." "Ah, fuck. What does that mean for us? End of the world?" "Not that bad, I don''t think. Just that we might have to clear out the still-active hives without the help of big names and high-tier samurai. It''s not going to be a walk in the park." "We''ll manage, right?" I asked. "We''ll either manage, or it really will be an end of the world situation. Better to act and do something about it than wallow and sit around until we''re all alien food. Did you have a good time at home?" "I barely got any time at home," I said. Gomorrah nodded. "Sorry about that. So... do you want to take over all of this?" She gestured to the map and the room, with its many commanders watching us have a conversation they weren''t part of. "What? This is your gig, no?" "I hate every minute of it. You''re better at this." "Fuck no," I said. I had this sinking feeling that my ''fuck no'' sounded a bit like a ''yeah, sure'' to Gomorrah. *** Chapter Sixty-Two - Miniature Wargaming Chapter Sixty-Two - Miniature Wargaming "The main difference between a corporate army force and a national army force comes mostly from the ideology behind both. One is designed to protect and promote profit. The other is designed to protect civilians and national interests. In this essay, I will show how legislating for a shift from national to privatised armies is a net positive for the people who matter." --A Study on Profitable Militarization, The Kissinger Foundation, 2027 *** It was hard, dealing with Gomorrah''s crap while also feeling extremely twitchy and itchy all over. The reflex package was definitely kicking in at the moment. I could feel it working across my entire body, but especially my fingers and toes, which I couldn''t stop from twitching slightly. Unfortunately, with the power armour I was in, that slight twitching turned into far more noticeable motions of my hands. "Are you okay?" Gomorrah asked mid-way through the briefing she was giving me. She was mostly listing out the forces at her disposal. Not mine. I didn''t want to be in charge of jack or shit and no amount of Gomorrah shoving the responsibility my way was gonna change that. "I''m fine," I said. "I got a nerve replacement thing going." "Oh," she replied with a nod. "That''s an annoying one." "Wait, you did the same?" I asked. The nun shrugged. "Nerves, some changes to my musculature. I have sheathing over my bones too. I''ve started the skin replacement." "Really?" I asked. I remembered her mentioning something to that effect yesterday, but we didn''t go into it. "Cat, do you have any idea how much time I spend next to fire?" "I''ve got a decent idea," I said. "More than the average person." And a lot more than anyone sane. She nodded. "Good. Now, do you have any idea how flammable skin is? Not to mention hair." "No, no I don''t think I know that, and to be perfectly honest I''m not sure I want to know." If it''s any reassurance, your new skin will be significantly harder to burn, though you''re not flame or heatproof. I suspect Atyacus will have offered his Vanguard a type of skin far more suitable to resisting that kind of threat than what I suggested to you. I filed that away for never. "Well, whatever. Did you get used to it yet?" "I''ve worn scratchier clothes. I can endure. My new skin''s nice, I think. You get to decide where hair grows back, which is useful as well," Gomorrah said. "Oh, shit, yeah. No more shaving your legs and armpits. That''s huge." Someone cleared their throat, and both Gomorrah and I stared across the holoprojector at a man in fatigues with a few extra markings on his shoulders. The general in charge of this operation. Fortunately, Gomorrah and I had been chatting over a private channel. "Sorry, General. Stray Cat asked for clarification on something and I informed her privately. Anyway, as I was saying. Our current force disposition includes two battalions and an additional attached company." I raised a hand. "Sorry, dumb question. You''re tossing terms that I''m not familiar with around." Gomorrah glanced my way, then the projector shifted from a map to a collection of teeny-tiny models of soldiers and tanks and bigger vehicles. These split into three distinct groups. "The smaller semi-independent group is the recon company under Lieutenant Moreau," she said. One group flashed, and I recognized them easily enough. A dozen vehicles, mostly on the lighter side, and some fifty or so soldiers divided into smaller squads. "Our second group is the Fifth Battalion, under Lieutenant Colonel Juno," Gomorrah said. One of the men across from me at the table nodded, and I noticed that the little tag on his chest read Juno. I still had no idea how to read the chevrons on their shoulders. They were just fancy triangles, but the boys seemed to like it when they had more than anyone else. "Puck''s Battalion is ready to serve," he said. A bunch of vehicles and soldiers lit up under the label of the Fifth Battalion. Two... groups bigger than platoons lit up, maybe some two hundred odd soldiers in each, and a number of APCs and a few wheeled tanks. "Alright," I said. "And the last group?" "The Twenty-Second Battalion," Gomorrah said. "They call themselves the Maple Battalion. They''re heavy armour." This time what lit up was mostly tanks and what I imagined were the drivers and pilots for said armour. "Isn''t there support staff?" I asked as I gestured to the projector." Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. "I''m not including them here," Gomorrah said. "Support crews will be staying on the safe side of the wall for the foreseeable future. We''ll have some long-ranged artillery as well. Missile batteries mostly, and we have the air force on standby for strafing runs, aerial recon, and if it comes to it, aerial superiority, but looking at similar events, historically, suggests that we''ll probably not need it." "Alright," I said. "Thanks. And the general here''s in charge of everything?" "I''m Brigadier General Thibodeau," he said with a grunt. I got the impression that he was being very tolerant of me at the moment. To be fair, I wasn''t giving the best impression. "Thanks," I replied. "Sorry, look, I''ve been in a few shitshows before, but usually it''s with like, militias at best, or a few PMC companies that need to be threatened into working together, or just civilians with guns. Never really got to work with people who have... you know, order." "Hmm," he replied, but he conceded the point. Actually, it felt like I''d earned some points there, but I had no idea how or why. Should I paint some triangles on my shoulders? Would they take me more seriously then? "Okay, so, the plan''s to head north. Are we setting up there or just sweeping in, fucking everything alien up, then heading back home for some R&R?" The general grunted something, then the company list disappeared to be replaced by a map of everything north of New Montreal for some ways. "Our first stopping point will be Saint-Janvier. We''ll be reaching that today. Tomorrow, we''re continuing to Saint-J¨¦rome. There''s a walled settlement there which has held up so far. It''ll be our final staging ground before we continue our move north." "The idea is to wipe every hive within fifty kilometres of New Montreal," Gomorrah said. "That sounds like a deceptively small area, but it''s actually fairly large." The map lit up, a great big section highlighted. "It will take weeks to scout it all manually, but we have some support tools from the Family that will pin-point hives. The army group will be assaulting those in force." "Huh," I said as I leaned forwards. Overall, it seemed pretty reasonable. If we wanted to keep the city safe, it made sense to take out any nearby hives. Sure, the aliens would just group up further out, but then they''d have to travel to New Montreal, and that would mean time to spot them and rain artillery down onto their ugly heads, or move out to intercept in the field. "Okay, okay, so, where do you want Gomorrah and I?" I asked. "On the front," the general said. "We''ve worked with samurai before. You''re likely to kill a lot more xenos without losses than our forces in a short engagement. We''re here to mop up and hold a line. You''re the primary strike force." "Alright," I said. "Yeah, that recon group was pretty useful last time. We should get more mortars and such set up too." The general frowned, then nodded. "I''ll make note of that. Some samurai don''t like indirect fire installations. It ''steals their points''." "Oh, trust me, I don''t mind," I said. If this was as busy as I expected, then there''d be no lack of opportunities to make bank. "As long as I can get back home every night, I think this whole operation is going to be a cakewalk." "You''re really just asking for trouble, aren''t you?" Gomorrah asked. "Hey, troubles done good by me so far," I said. "So, what''s next?" "You won''t enjoy this part," Gomorrah said. "But we need to go over it anyway. Force disposition, material acquisitions, logistical trains, and everything we need to make sure that we can keep this army group fed and stocked up on enough bullets and explosives to make sure everyone comes home alive." She was spot-on when she said that I wasn''t going to enjoy it. The mobile base rumbled on while I at least made an effort to keep up. Gomorrah might claim that she wasn''t good at this sort of thing, but damned did she seem to love making sure deliveries were on time. There was a faint alarm as we finally crossed the outer wall and were out of the city. From this point onwards, it was possible, even expected, that we''d be running into aliens that wanted to do nothing more than chow down on us. Despite everything, I was getting pretty excited for this. It was gonna be fun. Now, if only it could distract me from how my everything was itchy. Fucking power armour. It needed some holes so that I could scratch at myself. *** Miss Grasshopper - Chapter Four Miss Grasshopper - Chapter Four Sue wasn''t sure how it happened, but some primal part of her acted before her thinking mind caught up. She grabbed Melanie, and pushed her back. Then, with a lack of squeamishness that caught her by surprise a moment later, she wrapped a hand around the squirming alien lodged in the nook of Melanie''s neck and ripped it out. Blood spurted out, and Melanie let out a sigh as she stumbled back and down. Sue was left with an alien in her hand. It flapped a long, skin-covered wing, and its toothy beak opened up as it tried to take a bite out of her. She brought her arm back, then spiked the alien down onto the floor. It crashed there, then spun itself around in a flurry of wings and dangerously clawed little legs. Her handgun came up, and she fired into it until the gun clicked empty. "Sue?" Melanie said. "It''s, it''s okay," she said. Sue was hyperventilating, she realized. They''d had some courses on identifying panic attacks in students, and she couldn''t help but notice that a lot of those same things were happening with her at the moment. She closed her eyes, for just a moment, and recentred herself. There was no noise from aliens rushing over. They were safe. For the moment. Sue opened her eyes, and looked down towards Melanie. "Are you oka--" The words choked in her throat. Melanie was laying in a pool of her own blood. She had a hand pressing down over her neck. Skin was flayed, and Sue felt her stomach churn violently at the sight. "Oh my god," she said as she fell onto her knees next to Melanie. "No, no, we can fix this," she said. Melanie shook her head. "I don''t... I don''t think this is something a band-aid or a kiss can fix." She smiled. Sue blinked quick, hands hovering uselessly. "I, give me a moment!" she begged. Her augs connected to an emergency line. A robotic voice immediately told her that the service was past its maximum capacity, and that she wouldn''t be given a free credit to reimburse the cost of the call. Sue hung up, then refocused. Melanie had reached out and was holding her hand. Hers were cool, but strong, a grip that demanded attention, but wasn''t so hard that it hurt. "Sue, it''s okay," Melanie said. "No. No it''s not!" Sue said. Melanie shifted, then removed her hand from her neck and shoulder. There was a spurt of blood, and Melanie blinked dumbly for a moment before reaching for... for her gun. She pushed it towards Sue. "You''re going to need this. To stay safe," she said. "Melanie, please!" Sue said. Melanie smiled again. Her breathing seemed a little short, and Sue noticed her eyes failing to focus. "I always thought I''d pass on like my mom. This might be better, I guess. Do you know what she told me?" "No?" Sue asked. Her own eyes were teary. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. "Be a good grasshopper. It''s important to... to..." Melanie frowned for a moment, and her entire body seemed to relax. Then she blinked and for a moment, focused her entire attention on Sue. She smiled. Sue sat there, staring. It took a minute before she started to cry. It hurt, her chest was a hole. She grit her teeth, her mouth almost a smile as she sucked in air and let it out as gasping sobs. Then noise. The tinkling of glass, the swish of something moving. Sniffing from down the corridor and down the stairwell leading up to this floor. Sue took in a deep breath, then swiped a hand past her nose. She paused, then fished out a tissue from a pocket. It was a trick she''d picked up from Melanie. There was never a moment where a good teacher didn''t need a tissue for something. She stood, feeling as if she hadn''t slept in a week. Her eyes refused to look down. The smile was still there, because not even death would rob that from Melanie, but the sight of it was a twist of Sue''s heart that she couldn''t afford. Sue started walking. Walking was good. It meant movement, it wasn''t hard on the knees. She sniffed, and tried not to think about Melanie. Not until the first alien popped its head out from the stairwell before her. She screamed, but it wasn''t fear. It was something a lot worse. Sue brought the gun up and fired. She knew how to aim, even if she had little practice. The first three trigger squeezes ended with three rounds punched into the head of the first alien. The next to blasted holes into the next. Sue didn''t wait for the aliens to charge. She charged them. She was still screaming. The aliens didn''t retreat, but they did die, even as she stumbled after them down the stairwell and down the first flight of stairs. The gun clicked empty, and she scrambled for a moment before changing magazines. The sudden shift in momentum almost cost her as one of those dog-models leapt towards her and swiped for her head. She stumbled back, kicking it in the chest before she found her handgun and emptied it into the monster''s chest. Sue was left sitting there, in a pool of alien blood, halfway down a staircase, panting, empty gun in hand and empty rifle on the floor. The surge of manic energy left her like a balloon popping, and she suddenly found herself crying again. Silently, but persistent. The violence hadn''t plugged the hole, just smoothed it over for a moment. Now it was back, and just as raw. System Initialized! Sue felt her breath catch again. I''m... sorry. My name is Bybyt. Congratulations. Through your actions you have proven yourself worthy of becoming one of the Vanguard, a defender of humanity. Let''s work together to make sure that what happened today doesn''t happen again. Rise, Suezette-- "Grasshopper," she interrupted. "Sorry, I mean. Call me Grasshopper." She smiled. *** Chapter Sixty-Three - Meals Refusing Exit Chapter Sixty-Three - Meals Refusing Exit "Are you certain about these two? They don''t strike me as competent as their files suggest." --Brigadier General Thibodeau, Internal Memo 2057 *** I was expecting some action. Sure, we''d talk for a bit, do some planning, and point troops in the direction they needed to go in, but I expected to fight something. The entire day passed without a shot fired, and I suspected that I was slowly losing my mind. A month or so ago, not shooting at anything, and especially not having anything trying to eat me (Lucy excepted), would have meant that it was a good day. Now the only thing I could think of was that if the aliens at least tried, then I''d have an excuse to not be in the increasingly stuffy command room of the mobile base with some of the stuffiest people who had ever stuffed. Our progress was tracked in the slow rumble of the mammoth vehicle as it moved forwards at a pace that I could outwalk. It was so slow and steady that I could merely feel the motion, but we were moving, I knew because we were tracked on the large holographic map. Tiny pinpricks, moving ahead one pixel at a time. The worst thing was the itching. Actually, no, that''s not true. The itching was a close second. The actual worst thing was the shitter. The mobile base had a tiny little bathroom, like something in an old-time aeroplane. So small that you needed to enter it from the side and duck your head not to bash it against the ceiling. Navigating that in power armour was not possible, so I had to ditch the armour in the corridor, then squeeze my way in there. It was clean, at least. Some poor low-ranked fuck probably had the glorious task of brushing the whole thing out with a toothbrush every day, but clean was the only positive modifier I had for the washroom. I knew it was a bad day when I was honestly considering the pros and cons of wearing a diaper in my power armour. The convoy came to a stop at around eighteen hundred hours, a bit before sundown so that they''d have time to set up a proper camp. The spot was, until recently, a little lay-over town with a big gas station for automated trucks and a small row of old last-century homes. There was a supermarket with a big parking lot, all abandoned, but it was a wide open space with solid asphalt below. A perimeter was set up, tanks were lined in neat, orderly rows, and a corps of engineers started setting up unfolding fences around the entire lot while others lined up a series of mobile bunkers (because the army was too fancy to call them mobile homes) for the soldiers to rest in. Unfortunately, we could only move as fast as the slowest vehicle in the convoy, which meant we were moving as fast as the tanks with more interior volume than three bedroom apartments. "That was a good day''s work," Gomorrah said as she stepped out of the mobile base. She placed hands on hips and stretched her back out. "Are you serious?" I asked as I slunk out after her. I was exhausted in a whole new way, and I hated it. "That was awful. Damned waste of time." I had a million new facts rattling around in the back of my head, and I couldn''t wait for them to leak out. Why was it so important that we have a forty-minute discussion about the type, quantity, and quality of rations? The soldiers carried little MRE packs. Not the old shitty ones from back in the day, but these little flat-packed boxes that came with everything they needed and apparently tasted okay enough while still being full of nutrients and calories. That was the marketing pitch, at least. The few actual soldiers in the room with us that had eaten them looked like they''d rather eat the no-ply toilet paper they had in their godawful washroom than one of those MREs. As it turned out, the army had options, because whomever sold them the absolute fuckload of MREs they''d need to keep this operation going was going to make a tidy profit, and that meant that there was more than one person willing to secure that deal. Hence, a too-long discussion about which corporation to go with for supplying the grunts for this trip. Some corps offered discounts, others came with subscription plans for each soldier, others were just offloading old shit for relatively cheap. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. I hated every second of it, even as I learned how it was all actually kind of important. Yes, figuring out how to supply the troops with food sucked, but it would suck a lot more when they all started to go hungry. I got that. I wasn''t moronic. I just didn''t want to be the one in charge. "I''m having Lucy join the army," I said. Gomorrah turned to look my way. I couldn''t see her face, but something in her body language let me read her confusion. "Is this a uniform kink?" "Yes. But also she''s just better at this kind of thing than me. But yeah, the uniforms are kind of hot. Why aren''t the guys in the command room all dressed up?" "Because you don''t wear a dress uniform while out in the field. It''s not made for running around and shooting things with," Gomorrah said. "That makes a startling amount of sense," I said. The Brigadier general and Lieutenant Colonel were wearing fatigues that weren''t any different than any soldier''s, minus the rank insignia. They didn''t wear as much armour though. Just about every soldier I saw had padded leg armour strapped on, as well as a chest rig over a breastplate and some vambraces over their forearms. The kind of shit you''d want--at a minimum--when fighting enemies that likes to jump up and bite your extremities. It was probably pretty sub-par for fighting armed humans, but that wasn''t the goal here. "You''re heading home, I imagine?" Gomorrah asked. "Yeah. I need it." "If you want, leave your mech here. I''ll give you a ride back," she said. I smiled. "Thanks. I can always call my bike over. It''ll only take a few to get here." "It''s fine," Gomorrah said. We walked over to the Fury which was parked right behind the mobile base it had been following this entire time. Gomorrah tsked, then started to circle the car, looking for something. "What is it?" I asked. "Look at all this dust," she complained. "Would it kill them to put some mudflaps on their base? I swear, they''ll flick rocks all over my hood and windshield." "Is the paint scratched?" I asked. The Fury was a cool, very-matte-black. I couldn''t see any scratches, just a lot of road dust and dirt caked on. "No, the paint''s rated for the inside of a sun, it''ll take more than a tossed rock to scratch it, but it''s the principle that counts. You can''t just... not respect someone''s car." "Uh-huh," I agreed. She sighed and the car''s doors opened for us. I made a show of tapping my boots on the ground before getting in. If she was this pissed about the outside, I didn''t want to carry mud inside. "Tomorrow should be better," Gomorrah said as she took off vertically, spun us around, then accelerated towards New Montreal in the distance. "Really? Are we going to go over acquisitions for every kind of bullet again?" She laughed. "No, but we might do peripherals! But more seriously, we''ll be in higher-danger areas. The road between New Montreal and Saint-J¨¦rome has been patrolled a few times, it''s mostly safe. Further out is worse. That, and we''ll be getting some more samurai onboard tomorrow." "Anyone I know?" I asked. "I don''t know exactly who''s coming," she admitted. "Jolly Monarch just let me know that we''d be getting support from some other newer samurai." "Huh, alright," I said. There were a few newbies around. Cause Player was local, so was Crackshot Cowboy. Emoscythe was around, and so was Grasshopper, but they felt... not new. They both had some years under their belts and were probably able to handle bigger problems than Gomorrah and I. Maybe I''d get to meet a few other newbies. With the global incursion going on, I didn''t doubt that there were plenty of opportunities for new samurai to pop up. Home came up ahead soon enough, and Gomorrah slipped into the parking garage at a speed that had me subtly grabbing onto my seat. "Home!" she declared. "Yeah!" I said. It was nice to be back. Now I just had the oh-so-enviable task of explaining to Lucy that I''d be gone for most of the day for the next... while and a bit. Damn, how did people with jobs do relationships if they couldn''t be home all the time? *** Chapter Sixty-Four - New Hair Day Chapter Sixty-Four - New Hair Day "Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action [...]" --Ian Fleming, Goldfinger, 1959 *** "Can I come?" I think Myalis might have been impressed by just how quickly I came to a conclusion on that question. "Fuck no," I said. Lucy pouted at me, which was downright lethal. She was in bed, wearing a blanket and nothing else. She tugged it up and around her neck a little, so that the only part of her I could see was her chubby-cheeked pout. "Why not?" she asked. "Because it''s dangerous?" I asked the obvious. I sensed that it was something of a trap, though. "And no, that doesn''t mean that I can''t go. Or that I could just give you stuff to keep you safe." Lucy''s pout deepened, and then she flopped backwards onto the bed with a bounce and kicked her legs from under the blankets. It almost looked like she was a brat throwing a tantrum. "Fine! But I want to help." "Ah, well, that''s different," I said. "You could, uh..." I quickly wrote a message on my augs directed to Myalis, basically begging for help. Perhaps you could suggest that Lucy uses the spare time that she has and that you lack to look into some of your current projects? "Oh, I know!" I said with a snap of my organic fingers. "Can you check up on my shit for me?" I sent a thank you to Myalis, and an apology for stealing her ideas. You can have some of my ideas. I''ll consider it charity to the impoverished. Lucy perked up at that, her tantrum ending. It was probably for the best, because she looked out of breath. "What shit do you need checking up on?" she asked. "Well, there''s the prosthetics clinic downstairs. I didn''t look into it at all yesterday. We need to make sure they''re up and running. Then the whole sewer thing. I don''t think you should go check on them yourself, but the Family is doing some work and I need to keep an eye on them. Maybe pop over to their HQ and remind them that I''m paying attention. Oh, and look in on Rac. Heck, hire her to come with you all armed up. It''ll keep her busy and her nose out of trouble." Lucy hummed, then jumped out of bed. "Alright!" I said as she spread her arms and legs wide and stretched. "Yeah, that actually does sound kind of useful." "As long as you''re safe about it," I added. She turned a look my way. "Really? Since when are you so focused on being safe?" "Hey, I always want you to be safe and warm and have everything you ever wanted," I said. It had the advantage of being true. "It''s just that I didn''t think I could give you all of that until now. If you really want to come, I''m sure we can work something out?" She shook her head. "No, you''re right. Thanks, Cat." Lucy ambled over. "Hugs? Or are you not leaving right now?" "Not just yet," I replied as I very easily accepted a hug. "I need to get ready." "Alright. Use the washroom first, I don''t have as far to go. Actually, I''m gonna check on the people downstairs first." "Wear that jacket," I said. "And that necklace. And bring at least two of the cat drones with you." "Really?" "They''re intimidating," I said. "And I''m not." "You''re terrifying," I replied, which earned me a swat. Lucy laughed. "Go get ready. You''ll be late, and then Delilah''s gonna complain to Franny who''ll complain to me." "Urgh, maybe having them as neighbours was a mistake," I groaned as I finally let go of Lucy and wandered over to the washroom. I paused within as I saw myself in the mirror again. It was still me, obviously, but I came closer and then reached a hand up to my right side. My stump meshed well with the prosthetic arm there, going from flesh to machine almost seamlessly. What was strange was the scarring. I''d been burned pretty fucking horrifically before. I couldn''t remember most of it. Actually, it might have been more of an explosion? Fuck if I knew. But it took an eye, messed with my hearing for a long time, and lost me my arm. The whole of my right side was scarred. It wasn''t as bad in some places. There was only some permanently-wrinkly skin on my cheek and neck. The scarring was worse around my arm and upper chest on the right. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Now it was... not entirely gone, but almost. In just a day and a bit, the wrinkled red mess was reduced to a few faint patches of rough-looking skin. It looked more like I had a slight rash than old burns. The whole skin treatment at work, I supposed. For some reason it hadn''t crossed my mind that replacing all of my skin would take the scars with it. Well, fuck it, not like I cared overly much. I raked a hand through my hair, then grimaced as it came away with clumps of it. "Okay, the hair is annoying though," I said. Do you want to fix that? "Honestly? Yeah. Got like, a tech-wig or something like that?" It didn''t take too long, surprisingly, to find something suitable. It wasn''t too much, either. Under a hundred points and ten minutes later, I stepped out of the washroom, the toilet flushing away a disgustingly large clump of hair while I tied my new hair up in a quick and sloppy ponytail. It was some semi-fancy techhair. Rooted into my scalp and able to grow more or less naturally if I really wanted it to, but for now it would stay as long as it was. It was tougher than real hair, and the blue highlight on the front actually glowed faintly. I noticed that Lucy was missing, but I could hear her rummaging around in the armoury. I''d save the surprise for later, I decided as I got dressed and ready to go. "See you after work!" I called out. "Bye! Love you!" Lucy called back. "I''m stealing one of your guns by the way. Ohh! And a grenade!" "Uh... okay, don''t kill yourself!" I called back. "Hey!" Lucy shouted. I paused, already halfway through the living room. A few of the kittens were out and they paused to stare. "What?" I asked. "You didn''t say it back," Lucy accused. She poked her head out of the armoury. She was at least wearing an oversized t-shirt now. I was pretty sure most armouries required a dress code that was more than ''just a shirt'' but I didn''t really care. I sighed. "Love you too," I said with a wry smile. Then I pointedly ignored the snickers before I beat a hasty retreat. I got in the garage and noted that the Fury was gone already, so Gomorrah was ahead of me, and probably waiting impatiently for me to arrive. I sighed and hoped she wouldn''t be all judgemental about it as I hopped onto my bike and took off. It felt like it took forever to reach the little walled-off minicity where the army was planted. It looked like there had been some action overnight too. Not at the army''s camp in front of the old supermarket, but to the north of the city. Some smoke was rising out of fresh craters, and I suspected that there were a few homes burning out in the mini suburbia. I came down and parked next to the Fury, which happened to be where Gomorrah was hanging out. "You''re finally here," she said. "We did agree on oh-eight-hundred, right?" "I think so," I said. I didn''t look at my internal clock. If I did I might start feeling guilty. "Sorry, I had to buy my hair." "You could have done... buy your hair?" she asked, confused. "Yup. So, what''s the situation?" I asked before she could get her footing. It looked like the entire camp was doing its best kicked-hornets-nest impression, but I wasn''t sure if that was because trouble was here or if it was just the army preparing to get a move on again. Gomorrah sighed. "Everything was fine until about three hours ago. A group of antithesis pushed in from the north just as the sun was coming up. It''s very likely a coincidence, but they arrived as the guard was rotating, and they got a lot closer than they should have." "How sure are we that it''s a coincidence?" I asked, immediately on guard. "Ninety-nine plus percent, and a few decimals besides," she replied. "It''s likely that they attacked as the sun came up because it offered them more visibility. We just happened to time our guard rotation around sun-up." "Ah," I said. "Well, it''s nice to see that things are already exciting! So, we''re meeting new samurai today, right?" I couldn''t wait. *** Chapter Sixty-Five - Your Average Roleplaying Group Chapter Sixty-Five - Your Average Roleplaying Group "The average samurai isn''t so different from the average person, I don''t think. But... you know how there''s perhaps one person in a thousand who''s spectacular? They''re a genius, peerless, insane in a way that leads to greatness? Within the ranks of the samurai, these geniuses make up something like a quarter of their number. Sure, the average is still average, just people tossed into tough situations and given great power. They''re above-average in all respects, but they''re not so special." -- Excerpt from Deus Ex''s Sleepy Time Blog, 2056 *** "So, what are we looking at here?" I asked. Gomorrah was leading me through the crowd of soldiers and support personnel around the temporary base. "That surprise attack this morning is delaying things a little. We need to move up some road-clearing machines from the city." "Road clearing?" I asked. "Snow plows," she explained. "To ram through all the corpses." I nodded along. "That makes sense, yeah. Surprised we don''t have anything fixed to the front of a tank or something." "I think that exists, but we don''t have it on hand. Snow plows though? There''s some coming up the road at full-speed, we''ll have them here within the hour then start moving out." Gomorrah turned her head my way. "Which happens to leave us with just enough time to meet the new samurai." "Oh boy," I muttered. "What are we talking about here? That was plural, so at least two?" "Four," Gomorrah said. "We know one of them already. Crackshot Cowboy." "Oh!" I said, cheering up a little. Crackshot was actually a pretty cool guy. He had helped on the wall when defending New Montreal a while ago. Had a huge--understandable--crush on Emoscythe. "His whole thing was being super accurate with that old gun of his, right?" I asked. "I think that''s still his specialisation," Gomorrah said. "Long-ranged single-target attacks. He''ll fit in nicely with the two of us if it comes to a fight." "And the other three?" I asked. "I haven''t met them," Gomorrah said. She sent a file my way, and I poked it open. It had some information on the people we were heading out to meet. Not much, but it was there. "Princess and Knight, Hedgehog, and Tankette?" I asked as I read the names. "Gomorrah, that''s four, and with Crackshot... four plus one is five, right?" "Yes, Catherine, four and one make five," Gomorrah agreed. "Those lessons with Grasshopper are paying dividends. Knight isn''t a samurai," she explained. I frowned, but decided not to question it. We were heading out to meet them anyway. The first I saw of the new samurai was a middle-aged woman that looked like she was very much in the wrong place. She was kind of cute, in that pudgy motherly way. A woman maybe in her early forties or so, with brown hair cut into a bob and the kind of simple blouse-and-jeans outfit that was more suitable to sitting at home than out here on the edge of a battlefield. If we weren''t here, with a whole ass army around, I might have dismissed her entirely. She had some aug that looked decent, and a few ports on the side of her neck. Her hands were all silver on the inside. Smart palms? She had a ring, too. The tank she was sitting on kind of made any uncertainty about her samurai-ness disappear. This had to be Tankette, because that''s what she was sitting on. The tank was minuscule, about three quarters the size of a luxury hovercar, with four tracks on each corner that looked like they could all turn independently. There was a turret in the centre of the tankette, with a stubby box of a barrel sticking out of it and pointing ahead. A panel was open on the side, and I caught a glimpse of the interior. Tankette had to be a small woman, because anyone taller than five foot six wouldn''t be able to fit in that tiny cockpit. Still, the interior looked high tech. It reminded me a lot of my mech''s cockpit, with screens all over and a yoke for controls. I nodded to Tankette, then glanced around, looking for the others. Crackshot was sitting on one of my mech''s feet, his long rifle leaning up against his shoulder. He was still in jeans and a redneck-chic kind of shirt, but the quality had taken a leap upwards, and I suspected that it was tougher than it looked. Otherwise, he looked much the same as usual, a crooked-toothed guy with a friendly smile and sharp eyes. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "Heya, Cat," he replied with a tip of his hat. "Hey," I said with a return nod. I glanced to the right, where I found the two that could only be Princess and Knight. Those names had to be taken. Princess was probably the teen girl in the poofy pink dress with some armour slapped on. She waved excitedly my way, but didn''t step out from behind the one that I guessed was Knight. Knight was wearing armour. All metal, all shiny, all very dated. But they... she? Yeah, that was a chick. Anyway, she had a rig on, with a radio and some nades tucked away. There was a longsword hooked on her belt across from a knife while a hammer sat on the ground next to her, its haft pointed skywards. "Where''s the last one?" I asked. Then I spotted a ripple and glanced over to what I''d dismissed as some trash. The trash stood up, warped a little, and came to reveal a man in black fatigues with some pretty fancy armour on. His front was only covered by the basics. An armoured vest with some rigging over it, some crap over his knees and elbows. The kind of gear that a mid-tier PMC would have. Where he stood out was the helmet and most of all his... was it a cloak? He had a few thousand spikey strands pouring down from the top of his head all the way down to his ankles, the cloak-thing shimmered a little, copying the colour of the ground beneath. So, that''s where he earned the name Hedgehog, then. Hedgehog was armed with a pretty standard looking bullpup rifle, and looked like he could have been just another soldier. A well-equipped one, but nothing too outstanding. "Show''s yours," Gomorrah said. I scoffed. "Yeah, right," I said before I spoke up so that everyone could hear me. "Alright. My name''s Stray Cat, this is Gomorrah. We''re not the boss of anybody, so feel free to tell us to piss the fuck off. But somehow we''re the ones in the know, so listen up a bit. If we''re gonna work together then we might as well not accidentally blow each other up. I''m not big on show-and-tell, but I think we can all tell each other the basics. Gom, you can start, since you''re in charge." Gomorrah shook her head, but she did speak up. "I''m Gomorrah. I''m the second in command of the samurai-side of this operation, behind Stray Cat. I''m a fire specialist. I burn things. When I''m not, I watch over our logistics." I rolled my eyes, then gestured to the lady on the mini-tank. She pointed to herself, then smiled. "Oh, hello everyone. My name is Heather, but people have taken to calling me Tankette. I, ah, am not much of a fighter. This is Baby Girl, my tank." She patted the armoured vehicle she was sitting on. "We get up to a bit of trouble together. Oh! And the AI in my head''s called Tynker!" "Pleasure," I said. "I''m Princess!" the girl in the dress said. "And this is my big sister, Knight." "Sup," Knight said. "We''re going to be the best samurai you''ve ever seen," Princess said. Crackshot chuckled. "Well, she''s enthusiastic, at least," he said. "I''m Crackshot Cowboy. Howdy. I shoot things good. Gimme a target and I''ll poke a hole in it like a ripe melon." Hedgehog was the last, and we all turned his way. He started to salute, then paused halfway in the act. "I''m Hedgehog," he replied. "I work for a certain group as a private military contractor. I happened to become a samurai over the course of my duties. I''m here to grow and improve my skills." "Cool," I said. "So that gun''s not just for show?" "I''ve been in active service for six years," he said. I nodded. "Cool. Can we depend on you for all the army-related shit? I''m god-awful at that kind of stuff, even if Gomorrah keeps throwing me at it." One of his eyebrows rose, but he nodded anyway. "I''ll do what I can to help," he replied. "Thanks. Anyway, like I said, I''m Stray Cat. My job is to be loud here, and sneaky out there. I blow things up. Pleased to meet you all. Now, who wants to murderize some aliens, eh?" *** Side Story Poll Three! Hello! The last couple of sidestories have been a real blast to write, but I''m looking forwards to trying some new stuff! Oh, and there''s a heap more new fanfic too! (If you wrote one, lemme know, fanfic shoutouts are free!)! Anyway! Let''s see if we can''t decide on who''s story to tell next? Here are your options: Neon Girl Happy-Chan - (Set: late 2020s, Ohio, abused child who''s an eternal optimist, focus on early samurai. Tone: Darker, optimistic, early world building) Longbow - (Set: early 2040s, USA, Everyone''s big bro, Longbow! Tone: quirky comedy vibes) Lag & Dial-Up - (Set: 2030s, USA, The two hacker friends. Hack the future! Tone: I''m thinking some corpo vigilantism and some early matrix stuff. Lots of references and nerds being nerdy. ) This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Emocythe Mordeath Noir (Set: late 2040s, a goth gets more goth-er, fashion and long discussions about appearances and what it means to be a samurai) Manic - (Set: 2057, concurrent with Cat''s timeline, the rockergirl to rock all girls! Tone: Distressed musical musings) Myalis - ??? (Probably a one-off) The First - (Set in 2021, from the viewpoint of the first samurai) If there are any other samurai you''d like to see more of, then let me know! Or even just... periods of time within the setting, or areas in the world that you want explored! I''m thinking of doing short arcs with each one, just showing a snippet of a samurai''s life. Chapter Sixty-Six - Peanut Butter and Lesbian Time Chapter Sixty-Six - Peanut Butter and Lesbian Time "Channel 69 Nice News Now will be running a mini-doc series on the style and function of the modern-day samurai. From the most common gear choices to the strange and bizarre ways the vanguard of humanity chose to fight the good fight! Available now to all subscribers!" --Channel 69 Nice News Now, 2046 *** I clapped my hands together, and they made a strange cracking sound as my armoured palms met each other. It kind of surprised me, though to be honest, it had been a few years since I had the ability to clap. "Alright!" I said. "Gomorrah here has the plan for our deployment. Feel free to follow it, or not. Right Gom?" Gomorrah glanced my way, then back to the samurai. "I do," she said. "Hedgehog, Crackshot Cowboy. Would you mind riding above the main mobile base? There''s a platform at the top that should afford you some decent visibility." "Can do," Hedgehog replied. "No prob," Crackshot said. He grunted as he stood up, then stretched his back out before grabbing his rifle. "We can make a game of it, huh?" "That wouldn''t be very professional," Hedgehog said. "Oh, we don''t need to gamble on it, just a friendly one-up. I don''t like gambling. My uncle lost it all to the slots, you know?" "Right," Hedgehog said. Gomorrah glanced between the two, then refocused on the others. "Tankette, we have some light armour at the front of the formation already. Do you think you could join them?" "I think so," Tankette replied with a nod. "I''ll send my mech with you," I replied. "It won''t steal your kills, but it''ll be around if you need the added oomph." "Oh, I''d appreciate that," she said with a kindly smile. "What about Knight and I?" Princess asked. "Can we work with you?" I glanced at Gomorrah, then shrugged. "Sure. If someone wants to do the logistics shit for me, I''m very much more than willing to give it all up." "As long as we get to work with you," Princess said with a dainty little clap. She seemed... a little fangirl-ish. At least Knight, next to her, didn''t start jumping around and squeeing. "Um," Tankette said. It was a slight thing, but it still caught everyone''s attention. She noticed that we were all looking her way, and straightened herself, then tugged her blouse on straight. "I brought lunch boxes," she said with a perfectly straight face. "Lunch... boxes, ma''am?" Hedgehog asked. "Ah, hell yeah," Crackshot replied. "Man, I haven''t had lunchboxes since my grandmamma passed." Tankette seemed encouraged by Crackshot''s enthusiasm. She turned to her mini-tank and opened a case on the side. I thought it would be for ammo stowage, but instead it was filled with a half-dozen little tin boxes with thermos containers stuck to the sides. "It''s nothing too special. I don''t know what everyone likes. If there are allergies, then please let me know. Ah, the boxes aren''t labelled." She pulled out the little lunchboxes, then started passing them around. "Uh, thanks," I said when I got mine. Then I blinked and lifted it up. The box was actually shaped in the rough outline of a tank, instead of being a normal rectangle. "Thank you," Gomorrah said. "This wasn''t necessary." "Oh, I know," Tankette said with a grin. "But I woke up at five, as usual, realized that I had nothing to do until I got here, and I''d be driven crazy if I just sat back and did nothing all morning." "Holy shit, is this PB and J?" Crackshot asked, his box was already cracked open. "Ma''am, are you married?" Tankette tittered. "Yes, I''m happily married. Sorry." She wiggled her hand, flashing a little band around a finger. "Damn," Crackshot said. Then he stuffed half a sandwich into his mouth. Hedgehog slipped the box into a small satchel by his hip, and the others put theirs away too. I was left holding my lunchbox kind of awkwardly before I tucked it under my right arm. "Anyway, I think that''s it for now. The convoy will be moving out in...." "Ten minutes," Gomorrah filled in. "So we have plenty of time to get to our places! The army was attacked this morning already, so keep an eye open for trouble and aliens. Gomorrah, we''ve got a private channel for chatting, yeah?" Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. "I''ll have Atyacus send everyone an invite," she replied. I got a small ping on my augs for just that a fraction of a second later. There was now a little chatroom, with all of the samurai listed to the left with their status below. Interestingly, Knight was missing from the group. I blinked the chatroom away for the moment. It would probably flash or something when there was a new message to read. "Okay. Any questions?" I asked. Hedgehog raised a hand. "Where are we heading to today, and what are our rules of engagement?" "I think... Saint-J¨¦rome. Rules are, uh, if you see an alien, kill it. We''ll probably split the points we make between the lot of us, as long as everyone''s participating at least a little. Otherwise, don''t die. This is an escort mission. Honestly, if it''s boring, then that''s probably for the best. We don''t have to listen to the army, but they generally know what they''re doing, so maybe pay attention, at least," I said. Hedgehog nodded at that last bit. Figured he''d appreciate that kind of thing. With all that said and done, we kind of just... split off. Tankette packed up her things, then squeezed herself into her mini-tank. I was surprised that she wasn''t wearing anything more armoured in there. Hedgehog and Crackshot went ahead a little, the two boys already deep in a conversation about guns, which left Princess and Knight to walk alongside Gomorrah and I. "So, uh, Knight," I started. "Yeah?" she asked. Her helmeted head turned my way, and I could just make out an eye through her visor. "You''re not a samurai, right?" "Is that a problem?" "No?" I tried. "Just wondering. Sorry if I stepped on a landmine or something." She stared for a moment more, then looked away. "It''s fine." "Aww, Knight, don''t be that way!" Princess said before she skirted around Knight and came to stand next to me. "I saw you shoot the mayor! And that big fight with your mecha against those PMCs! That was so cool!" "Oh, uh, thanks," I said. "And Gomorrah too! You got to fly in her car, the God''s Righteous Fury! That car is so sexy! What was that like?" "You''re asking me what it was like to ride in Gomorrah''s car?" I asked. Gomorrah was literally right there. She could probably go on about the car for an hour or two. It might not be safe for anyone under age to hear (because that kind of passion should really be reserved for the bedroom) but still. "Uh, it''s nice? Seats are comfortable enough, there''s a mini-fridge. Uh, the viewscreen is pretty nice? It flies fast. Gomorrah''s a pretty sick pilot, though her car did complain about aubergines the last time we flew together." "What?" Gomorrah asked. "Aubergines? They''re like.. A fruit? Vegetables? The purple ones," I explained. "Cat, I have literally no idea what you''re talking about," Gomorrah said. "You remember, you did those twisty flying manoeuvres, and then the Fury was like ''Aubergines, Aubergines!''" Gomorrah''s expressionless mask stared at me some more before she looked away. "It was saying ''Overgee," she replied. "You''re a moron." "Is that what it was saying?" I asked. "Actually, yeah, that makes a lot more sense." You have... you have ears that are significantly better than any baseline human''s. But I suppose that hearing and comprehending aren''t the same thing. Princess laughed and tapped my arm with her hand. "You''re so funny, Miss Stray Cat," she said. "Funny and cool." "Uh, yeah, thanks," I replied. I was getting the uncomfortable feeling that Princess thought we were a lot closer than we were. Emotionally, that was. She was pretty much in my bubble already. I couldn''t think of a nice way to shove her back though, not short of saying ''I have a girlfriend'' and possibly embarrassing the shit out of her. This wasn''t the kind of problem I came here expecting to have to manage. "Anyway, you''ll be staying with us on the command rig?" "If that''s allowed," Princess said. "Yeah, sure. You know what, I''ll ask the general to explain our logistical chain. That should be real useful for you to know. It should only take a few days." "Huh?" "It''s good for you," I insisted. Anything that would get me out of an awkward situation was definitely good, as far as I was concerned. *** The First - Chapter One The First - Chapter One I''m just a guy, just some dude, trying to make ends meet, trying to get my shit together. Generally disappointed in life, generally on the broke side of things. I''ve got an okay job as an insurance broker. It pays enough. I graduated from college about six years ago. Or is it seven now? I''m twenty-nine, going on thirty. It''s October, so it''ll be my birthday in... six days. I don''t expect to do anything for it. I know, I''ve always known, that shit''s going to hit the fan some day. I think it''s all the news I watch, and the job. There''s nothing like hearing sob stories and seeing people''s lives going to shit all day to crush that last little bit of hope. My job is half to convince people to pay the company more than they should for a service that I''m also paid not to deliver. It''s hard to do this kind of work and not be a cynic, but I figure it could be worse. I could be on the streets. I think things are a little fucked, and I''ve never been sure of what I can do to fix them. But I kind of expected the end to happen... you know, more biblically? Maybe a Chinese nuke? Or climate change will just barrel on past the point of no return, and I''ll die of a heat stroke at the office when corporate decides to cut corners and not turn on the AC one day. I figure that, in reality, I''ll probably go out the same way my uncle and father did. My heart will just... give up one morning. I''m standing in the parking lot just outside. A few of the others have run back inside, they''re afraid, of course. It''s reasonable. I see Peter from Accounts Receivable opening the trunk of his hatchback, pulling out a handgun and starting to swallow it before Eric slaps him behind the head and wrestles the gun away. Yeah, I guess it''s not the time for that. My name is Zane Martinez. Right now, at this very moment, I''m watching as the skies open up and aliens come pouring down onto the city. My first thought was ''wow, this is going to be a lot of work.'' I think that''s kind of sad, but I don''t know if I still have it in me to really feel sad anymore. "We''re so fucked," I mutter. "Shut up, Martinez," Cindy says. She''s hot. And also a cunt. Keeps calling me Zane from Zanesville, as if that''s the funniest joke I haven''t heard a million times. "I mean, what the fuck are those?" I ask as I gesture to the holes in the heavens. There''s tentacles. I... have seen some things that I''m not proud to have watched, the kind of shit that I''ll only watch in Incognito mode. This is not that. These things are huge. If I didn''t have the Cincinnati skyline to help, I might not even be able to put a scale to things. The trunks? Tentacles? The things, they look like they''re as thick around as a bus, and they''re coiling down like someone''s spilled intestines, all wet and pulsating. Has someone ripped god''s guts open over Cincinnati? Why? Cleveland''s just an hour away. "I''m going home," someone says, and I think it''s the first smart thing I''ve heard all day. "Yeah," I mutter. "Work''s not off yet," I hear someone say, and I recognize that voice. It''s my general manager. I point ahead and into the sky. "It looks like the world might be ending," I said. "I know for a fact that you don''t have any sick days left," he sniped back. I was real curious about that handgun Peter had. "Okay, well, I''m gonna go die at home." I can see that little bit of hesitation on his face, and that''s all the okay I need. I don''t even bother heading back in. My 2012 Toyota''s parked at the far end of the lot. It''s a walk, but there''s a tree there that keeps the sun off the front seat around four, so the car''s not baking as much on the inside. I get in, start it up, then pull out of the lot. There''s a bit of traffic, but most of it is heading away from the centre of the city. That''s... probably pretty wise, actually. But my home is closer to downtown. Not by choice. It''s the only place I found within twenty minutes of work. I have a roommate. He''s a dipshit, but he pays on time and his pet cat is pretty cool, so it''s alright. We barely see each other, and with the rent split in half it means I can afford a place near downtown. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. I pull up to the far right lane as I notice a few cars driving down the wrong side of the street, some of them going at insane speeds to get out of the growing congestion blocking off the left lanes. I... I can''t remember ever seeing something like this. I lean forwards, half my attention on the road, the other on the skies. I haven''t gotten too much closer, but enough that I can make out some more details on the tentacles. It looks like they''re slowing down. There are other things slipping out of the holes, big pods that trail smaller tentacles. I gasp, almost slamming on the breaks, when one of those pods rams into Carew Tower. "Holy fuck!" This is... I was just a kid when 9-11 happened. I mean, I kinda remember it, but more for the aftermath and seeing it all over the news as a kid. I think this is what the people in New York felt that day, maybe. Is this happening all over? I turn on the radio, but it''s just a pre-recorded state of emergency broadcast on every channel. Then I need to swerve not to rear-end a pick-up and I decide that paying attention to where I''m going is probably more important. Which is why I''m lucky enough to see it coming. One of those pods comes out of a tear in the distant sky. I''m not sure, but it looks like they''re shrinking, maybe. The pod comes out at an oblique angle. It darts out, slashing through the smoke rising from downtown, then angles slightly upwards. I don''t think I''d pay much attention to it, normally, but it''s heading my way. Straight at me. Sure, downtown is a half dozen miles away, but I can tell when something''s growing bigger. "Fuck!" I shout, and suddenly, the pod is right there. I swerve to the right as an explosion rocks out just ahead and to my left. It crashed onto the bumper-to-bumper traffic to my left. The damned thing looked like it might have been the size of a car from afar, but now that it''s close, it''s closer to the size of a greyhound, and this one just crushed half a dozen cars. I stop and stare. It''s not smart of me, but traffic''s dead now. A few cars have slipped out of their lanes and no one''s moving anywhere. The big... egg-thing is alive. It''s pulsating, covered in large gel-like sacs on the exterior that squirm, and the tentacles coming out of its rear end are swinging around and slashing out at the air. I don''t know what is going on, exactly, but I know that I don''t want to be here. The egg''s sides opened up, large tubes slipping out of holes like tongues out of a drooling mouth. They open up, swelling as something large passes through, and just like that, the egg gives birth to some large, placenta-covered thing, right there on the street. "Fuck that," I say even as it pumped out another. I almost gun it. My little Toyota''s well insured. I can ram my way past the minivan ahead. But there''s people under that thing. There''s people around it. And even as I watch, one of the things the egg just dropped stands up and takes off at a clumsy trot towards the first kind soul to come out and try to help. It opened a mouth that''s all wrong, and latched onto his face. A moment later the alien pulls its head back, and serrated teeth take half the guy''s face off. "Ah, fuck no," I say. And that''s when I reach back into the space between my seats and grab a tire iron. I always imagined using it to bash some car thief''s face in. This... isn''t that, but not sure it matters at this point. It ain''t right to sit back and do nothing, so I''m going to do something. Just as long as I don''t think about it too much. *** Chapter Sixty-Seven - Tank You (For The Sandwiches) Chapter Sixty-Seven - Tank You (For The Sandwiches) "When it comes to at-home self-defence, the popular option, for years, has been a handgun in a safe. We think that''s slow, and unlikely to scare off the prepared bandit. Our solution? The self-defence pillow frag!" --Failed Advertising campaign for at-home high explosives, 2045 *** I wasn''t sure if I should have been disappointed or not, but the first attack against the convoy as it was moving happened so quickly and was dealt with so rapidly that I didn''t even have time to get out of the mobile base before it was dealt with. The attack hit our right flank, just as we were nearing one of the many little rivers cutting across the landscape. There was an old cement bridge crossing the river, maybe forty metres long. Not even a proper suspension bridge or anything, just a plain old boring thing. The aliens came out from the side of the bridge, launching themselves out of the brush and rushing at our front flank. The computer on the mobile base quickly made a headcount and marked out something like half-a-hundred model threes and twice as many model ones. There was a sprinkling of bigger models too, tankier ones, and some of those tentacled fucks. The tanks came to a stop, then started to rotate their guns to the right. Then Tankette got involved, circling around and ahead of the formation so that she could aim back at the swarm. She opened up on the lot of them and turned the enemy into so much swiss cheese. I was left chewing on my sandwich (she''d cut them at an angle, then flipped one half around so that the sandwich looked like a little heart in the box. She''d placed some baby carrots in the spaces left over too) while I watched aliens die in droves. The boys on the roof were chatting over the coms while taking shots at the aliens in the lead. Once the tanks and support vehicles right behind had the aliens in sight, it was all over. Multiple criss-crossing lines of machine gun fire was a pretty text-book counter to a charge. The thing that surprised me the most was the reaction to the flying models. Someone opened up on them with a repeating net launcher. The shots would go out for a few metres, then explode outwards into a net some three or four metres wide. The model ones in the net''s path would get smacked out of the air by the net as it came back down, and it looked like maybe the netting itself was sharpened. Once the last gun went quiet, I waited a beat, then opened up the ''all'' coms. "Well done, everyone," I said. "But let''s not party too soon. Keep your eyes open as we cross the bridge. Good reaction out there, Tankette." "Thank you," came Tankette''s rather shy reply. "She''s pretty good," I said as I cut off the coms. "What kind of gun is that tank of hers rocking?" Gomorrah glanced to the side, head tilting slightly. "Looks like a 25mm main gun, and a 5.56 NATO-standard secondary gun. Basically a small cannon and a gun with the same calibre as a basic assault rifle." "Huh," I said. "Well, I guess with a tank that small you can''t have a big gun mounted. I mean, still bigger than what you could carry on your own." She could probably reload just by buying more ammo from her AI, so that''d save her a lot of trouble. "I''m sure we can do better!" Princess said. "Just wait, Knight and I will prove ourselves!" She pumped a fist into the air. Knight just shifted slightly from side to side next to her, clearly feeling about as awkward as someone wearing full plate could feel. "You''ll have your chance soon enough," I said. I hoped that was right, because Princess kept edging her way around the central hologram tank in the middle of the command room. I was edging my way around her, and so far we''d gone around the entire table twice. I didn''t know what this chick had going on for me, but I was pretty sure I didn''t want any of it. "Hey, maybe we could stick you and Knight with Gomorrah? She''s a fantastic samurai. I bet she could show you all sorts of tricks." Gomorrah''s head snapped up and she looked my way, then towards Princess. "Princess, is that suit of yours flame retardant and fireproof?" "Uh, no?" Princess said, sounding pretty damned uncertain. "Then it would be a bad idea, Cat. She should stick with you," Gomorrah said. The clever bitch. Did they teach girls to be this sneaky over in nun school or something? The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement."We''ll figure it out once we''re in Saint-J¨¦rome. We''re going to have to do patrols around the city for a while anyway, right?" The general, Thibodeau, glanced up from a tablet that he was looking at. "About that," he said. It had been a minute since he engaged with us. I think he didn''t like the presence of Princess and Knight. Sure, Princess was a samurai, and Knight was... well, she might as well factor in as one, but I think that Princess didn''t feel as professional to him. Fuck, did that mean that he thought that I was professional? What the hell was wrong with me? "Yes?" I asked as I tried not to have a minor freak-out. I couldn''t be professional, could I? I was cool, damn it. Not some pencil-pusher, no matter how much Gomorrah might wish otherwise. "We have new satellite imagery for the area around Saint-J¨¦rome," the general said. He tapped the tablet a couple of times, and the image in the holotank switched from a drone''s-eye-view of the convoy to a map of the city we were heading towards and its surroundings. Saint-J¨¦rome wasn''t anything impressive. Actually, it was kind of the opposite. Bit of a shithole, really. It was only worth noticing because it was within a few hours drive of a megacity. Red splotches started to appear all around the city, locations of antithesis movement and such. "We know there''s a hive in this area," the general said as he gestured to one of the bigger red splotches. "And we''ve narrowed it down to within an old water filtration plant along the North River." "North River?" I asked. "Yes? That''s what it''s called," he said. "Wow. Someone was feeling daring that day," I muttered. "Sorry, go on." "In any case, we''ve identified one hive to the north of the city. It''s been pushing into the city for some time. The defences held until last night." Gomorrah''s head snapped up. "They fell?" "The city''s guard, which is really just militia, some local volunteers, and a small PMC contracted to keep the city safe, were unable to stop the hive at the northern wall. They''ve begun pulling back and into the city itself. Citizens were evacuated to the southern end of the city. There are a number of shops and chain stores there, with automated anti-theft systems and their own security staff. The city was able to convince the owning corporations to allow the citizens to use the stores as a temporary gathering point." The general zoomed into the map, and I leaned forwards to see what he meant. There were some two dozen stores in the area, with a small wall running along the south. A lot of the stores had large parking lots, some over multiple floors, and most of them had fences around their lots. It looked like the parking lots were filled to the brim, with dozens more cars sitting outside of the area creating a makeshift wall. Everyone that had evacuated probably did so by car, creating a small fuckload of congestion on the roads. "How old is this?" I asked. "Four hours," the general said. "We could have been informed early, about the breach," Gomorrah said. "I don''t see how it would matter overly much. We''ll be arriving in three hours," the general said. I hummed. "Knowing earlier wouldn''t hurt all the same, but yeah, we still have time to prepare. Do you have a plan already, general?" The general nodded then gestured over his tablet again. The map pulled back, then switched to a 3d render instead of a satellite image. A red arrow pushed into the city from the south, then split down the centre of the city. "The Twenty-Second battalion will push into the far end of the city, plugging the gap. Meanwhile, the fifth battalion will form a line in the centre of the city and march forwards to meet the Twenty-Second." The formation was something of a cross, a beam down the middle all the way to the north, then a cross-line that moved forwards, sweeping through the city until it reached the end. "And the recon battalion?" I asked. "The seventy-Seventh will be reinforcing the walls of the parts of the city that are still in human control," he said. "They''re not entirely equipped for wall duty, but more bodies can only help. Some of them will remain behind to help set up our new base camp, leaving room for our supplies to come in." I nodded. "Okay. Princess, Knight, you''ll be on foot, with Crackshot and Hedgehog. Gomorrah, can you slip ahead with Tankette and the armoured battalion? I''ll be on the ground too, I guess. Once we''ve got the city secured, we''ll see who''s available to hit up that hive." *** Chapter Sixty-Eight - Do Not The Princess Chapter Sixty-Eight - Do Not The Princess "Saint-J¨¦r?me is a suburban city located about 45 kilometres northwest of Montreal on the Rivi¨¨re du Nord. It is part of the North Shore sector of Greater Montreal. It is a gateway to the Laurentian Mountains and its resorts via the Autoroute des Laurentides." --Wikimedia Foundation "Saint-J¨¦r?me", November 2023 "Saint-J¨¦rome is a suburban city located about 60 kilometres northwest of New Montreal on the Rivi¨¨re du Nord. It is part of the North Shore Defence sector of the New Montreal Anti-Antithesis Pact. It is a gateway to the Laurentian Mountains and its resorts via the Pepsicola Highway." --Wikimedia Corporation "Saint-J¨¦rome", November 2043 *** We rolled into Saint-J¨¦rome with a lot more fanfare than I expected. In my mind, we were about to cruise into a city that had been fucked up. Sure, we were playing the roles of big damn heroes, but it didn''t mean I expected the locals to give much of a shit. Instead, we rolled into the city only to be greeted by a crowd swarming on a bridge above the exterior wall of the city. Some thousand-odd people, waving banners and flags and cheering the army''s convoy as we rumbled in. Crackshot waved at the people above as the mobile base rumbled past and was promptly nailed in the face by someone''s panties. "We''re a lot more popular than I expected," I said as I watched it all from within the base. We had access to all of the cameras on the armoured vehicles, and some drones hovering above. It gave a good view of things. "This city," General Thibodeau said. "Was almost certainly going to be condemned if we weren''t able to approach. The city itself doesn''t have the pull or money to encourage a large enough PMC presence, not with New Montreal so close. There aren''t enough large corporate interests in the region for them to want to make a difference either. This is just a peaceful little city, with no true worth beyond being a place with a few hundred thousand consumers." "What would have happened, then?" I asked. "The city''s citizens would be told to evacuate further, to New Montreal itself." I blinked. "It took us two days to get here. I mean, we''re moving at a snail''s pace, someone driving straight could make it in a few hours, but... wait, how far is New Montreal from here? Like, the outermost wall?" "Sixty kilometres," the general said. I stared. "You, uh, mean sixty... thousand? Or you forgot a zero?" He frowned in turn. "No? It''s sixty kilometres to the south of here." I turned to the holotank, then took control of it and zoomed out. I could see the place where the army had stopped for the night, and the route back, and... yup, that was 60 whole kilometres. "How in the fuck did this take us two days?" "The first day was mostly getting things organised," Gomorrah said. "I wouldn''t count today as a second day, it''s not even noon yet." "What kind of speed are we moving at?" I asked. "We average about five kilometres an hour," the general said. "That''s walking speed!" I said. "There can''t have been traffic, we have tanks!" The general shrugged. "We''re moving at the same pace as our slowest units. Some of our heavy armoured vehicles move at a snail''s pace." I couldn''t wrap my head around it. Gomorrah reached over and patted me on the back. "This is the speed in which armies work," she said. "It''s so slow," I said. "Miss Stray Cat likes going fast, then?" Princess asked. I felt my spine straightening. God, that girl was rubbing me the wrong way. She was smiling, all teeth, and it was creeping me right out. "Let''s get ready to hop out," I said. "Gomorrah, want to take, ah, Princess and Hedgehog and take the west flank? I''ll go out with Crackshot and Knight, we''ll slip around the east. Tankette can stay with the armoured division?" The last was aimed at the general who nodded. "Certainly. I''m positive the tankers will take a liking to her. Hopefully not too much of one." I had no idea what he meant by that, and I wasn''t sure I wanted to know. "Right," I said. We were crossing the commercial part of the city, and the drone above was picking out some of the parking-lots-turned-refugee-camps that the general had mentioned earlier. Princess and Knight were in the middle of a deep, hushed discussion. From the looks of it, my plan to split them up wasn''t going so well. It ended when Princess frowned, grabbed Knight by the gauntlet, and tugged her towards me. "Miss Stray Cat," she said, this time with none of the weirdness. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. "Yeah?" I asked. She took a deep breath. "I''ll let you borrow my sister," she said. "But only if you promise to keep her safe." "I''m the one supposed to keep you safe," Knight said. "I''ll be fine," Princess replied. "I''ll be with Miss Gomorrah. She''s scary-strong. And Mister Hedgehog seems like he knows what he''s doing too." I stared between the two, then nodded. "I can keep Knight safe," I said. "Do you fight at all, Knight?" "I can manage," Knight said. She sounded rather petulant. "I''m good at keeping Tiff--Princess safe. It''s my job." "Alright," I said. "Look, if you two don''t want to be separated, we can work something out. I don''t want to be a bitch here. If you''re used to being together, then that''s fine." "You usually work with Miss Gomorrah, and you''re splitting up now," Princess pointed out. "It''s fine. I think we should learn how to handle ourselves when we are apart." I hesitated, but she did seem certain enough. "Alright," I said. The mobile base came to a slow, steady stop, and I noticed the general looking at his table out of the corner of my eye. "We''re stopping here to unload troops. The base will be staying here, as part of the defensive cordon for the civilians and to act as a fall-back. Good luck out there, samurai." With that said, we filed out of the base. Gomorrah''s Fury was waiting outside, which was handy for her, since she wasn''t carrying all of her gear in the base. Those big flamethrowers of hers would have been cumbersome in there anyway. My stuff was a little more compact, so it wasn''t as big of a deal. Crackshot and Hedgehog climbed down the side of the base and landed next to us, then stretched. "What are our orders?" Hedgehog asked. "You''ll be going with Gom and Princess, Crackshot, you''re with me and Knight. We''ll be taking the east, you''ll be going west. Our job is to clear out the aliens, fuck em up as you see them, keep the soldiers safe if you can." "Don''t take any needless risks," Gomorrah said. "The cleaner this job is, the better. The soldiers should know what they''re doing. They won''t need that much help with weaker models, but they might rely on us for anything bigger, or else they''ll have to call in a strike." "Do we have strike capabilities?" Hedgehog asked. "Mortars only," Gomorrah said. "They''re relatively accurate, but I wouldn''t want to rely on them in the city." I glanced back. There were troops hopping out of APCs by the dozen, with sergeants shouting for order already. Young men and women were doing last-minute gear checks, switching out mags, praying. Doing the kind of shit you''d expect people to want to do a minute before getting into a fight. "We don''t have specific positions or anything," I said. "So we can wander a bit. Gom, are you bringing the Fury?" "I will," Gomorrah said. "Princess, Hedgehog, feel free to ride with me." "Your car is a two-seater," Princess pointed out. Gomorrah looked at her. "The roof." "I, uh, suddenly feel even less secure about Princess'' safety," Knight said. "Gomorrah, Princess looks clean enough, I''m sure she won''t track mud into your car, you can at least let her sit in with you," I said. "I suppose she can''t be messier than you," Gomorrah said. "Uh, what about me?" Hedgehog asked. I stared at him. "Hang on?" With that decided, I called over my mech. I didn''t intend to ride in it, not when most of the fighting was probably gonna be done on foot, but having big guns at our beck and call could only be a good thing, plus the mech had a few spots that I could grab onto while it moved. "Okay. Keep your coms opened, and shout if anything goes wrong. The faster we know about trouble the faster we can blow it up." With that, we split. I showed Knight where she could grab onto the front leg of the mech (which made for a surprisingly smooth ride, if one that left us exposed) and Crackshot was quick to scamper onto the Mecha''s back where he hung on while trying to get his gun pointed forwards. The soldiers started to spread out, and I received an update on the tactical map in the corner of my vision. We were going to spread out, west to east on this side, then start northwards towards the far end of the city. The tanks and armoured battalion were already pushing ahead. "So," I asked as I popped a private channel between myself and Knight. "What''s up with your sister?" "Oh... I thought you''d at least give me a few hours before opening up with that," she said. *** Glossary: Model One? Model One?

Enemy Classification: Scout / Low-Threat / Seeder / Flight-Capable Elimination Reward: 1 Point Model Description: Model Ones are small avian entities resembling Corvus corone (common crow) in size and appearance, with an average weight of 400-600 grams and a wingspan of approximately 85-100 cm. Their bodies are covered in black skin, and they possess an anomalous circulatory system filled with green-colored blood. Model Ones exhibit high agility and aerial maneuverability, alongside an apparent lack of self-preservation instinct, engaging in aggressive behavior towards larger organisms and mechanical entities. Model Ones do not possess a digestive system, leading to their inevitable death approximately seven days post-birth. Prior to expiration, Model Ones focus on scouting, gathering small objects, and initiating attacks on perceived threats to their hive. Notably, Model Ones death in a localized area contributes biological material necessary for the genesis of a new hive, a process that significantly complicates containment efforts. Artist''s Depiction of a Model One? Threat Analysis Report: Model One Threat Rating: Low Overview Model Ones represent a unique and emergent threat. Characterized by their small, bird-like appearance and rapid, albeit short-lived, life cycle, these entities pose a strategic challenge due to their ability to seed new hives upon death and their aggressive behavior towards both civilians and military personnel. Threat Capabilities Rapid Hive Genesis: The death of Model Ones contributes to the formation of new hives. This self-propagating mechanism ensures their persistence in the environment, complicating eradication efforts. Agility and Swarm Tactics: Model Ones exhibit high maneuverability and a propensity for swarming, enabling them to overwhelm targets through sheer numbers and initiate surprise attacks on unarmored individuals or weak points in infrastructure. Non-Digestive Survival: The lack of a digestive system implies that Model Ones do not require traditional sustenance, allowing their entire lifecycle to focus on reconnaissance, collection, and aggression, unhindered by the need to feed. Strategic Threat Assessment Containment Difficulty: High. Traditional containment and eradication methods are less effective due to rapid hive genesis and the aerial mobility of Model Ones. Military and Civilian Risk: Low. While individually considered low-threat, in large numbers or swarms, Model Ones can cause significant disruptions, potentially leading to casualties among unarmored personnel and civilians. Potential for Expansion: Moderate. The ability of Model Ones to seed new hives upon death suggests a significant risk of territorial expansion, especially in regions lacking in preparedness or response capability. Mitigation Strategies Early Detection and Rapid Response: Implement surveillance and rapid response teams to detect and eliminate Model Ones before they can seed new hives. Protective Measures: Equip military and civilian personnel in affected areas with appropriate protective gear to mitigate the risk of injury from Model One attacks. Research and Development: Invest in research to understand the biological and ecological mechanisms of Model Ones, focusing on disrupting the hive genesis process or developing targeted biological or chemical controls. Public Awareness and Training: Educate civilians and military personnel on the nature of Model One threats and proper response protocols to minimize panic and ensure effective containment. Conclusion Model Ones, while individually not a high-threat Antithesis, collectively pose a significant strategic challenge due to their unique life cycle and aggressive behavior. A multi-faceted approach combining early detection, protective measures, targeted research, and public education is recommended to manage and mitigate the threat they represent. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Addendum M1-1: Samurai who have engaged in areas of Model One activity report these entities as low-priority threats due to their easy extermination and the minor reward. However, instances of Model Ones have been known to cause casualties when encountering unarmored personnel, due to their swift, kamikaze-like assaults. WARNING: Samurai will often choose to place low priority, or outright ignore these models. The point reward for eliminating one of these is often considered too low compared to the point-cost for the munitions the samurai might have to expend in eliminating the threat.

Addendum M1-2: While the International Standard Nomenclature for the Model One insists that the model be called a Model One in all official writings, civilians and soldiers alike have taken to naming them in an unofficial capacity. These names include: Black Swarmers Crows Fuck Birds Greenbloods Ghost Sparrows Meaner Magpies Ohio Pigeons Ugly Birds

Addendum M1-3: Transcript of Dissection Report by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Subject: Model One Dissection Analysis Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: Recording now. This is Dr. Evelyn Hargrove, though they''ve taken to calling me "Doctor Dagger" around the lab, for reasons that are now becoming ominously appropriate. Today, I''m performing the first full dissection of what the field teams are colloquially referring to as a "Ohio Pigeon." For the record, the subject is deceased upon arrival, consistent with reports of their limited lifespan. Official nomenclature for this little bird is... Model Type One. [Sound of instruments clattering] Dr. Hargrove: Initial observations confirm that the exterior is remarkably similar to that of Corvus corone, a common crow, in both size and plumage coloration. However, upon incision, the internal structure is... vastly different. There''s a complete absence of a digestive tract. No stomach, no intestines. It''s as if the creature was designed to consume nothing at all. The primary eyes, the forward ones, seem very small. I''m willing to bet that they have very limited capabilities. The second set of eyes, those on the sides of its head, remind me of a chameleon''s. The larger eyeball and more complex structure might imply decent ranged vision from these. [Pause, sound of notes being taken] Dr. Hargrove: The circulatory system is present and... fascinating. The blood is indeed green, a feature previously speculated to be due to copper-based hemocyanin, rather than the iron-based hemoglobin found in humans and most terrestrial animals. This warrants further chemical analysis. I suspect that the reason might be entirely different. This smells like... freshly cut grass, not copper, certainly not blood. [Sound of a microscope adjusting] Dr. Hargrove: I''m now examining the wing structure... Musculature is exceedingly well-developed, indicating these creatures are built for extensive, if not exhaustive, flight. There''s a notable absence of fat reserves, aligning with reports of their inevitable death by starvation within a week of birth. [Longer pause, a deep sigh] Dr. Hargrove: It''s a profound thing, to hold a creature in your hands that seems designed for a singular, fleeting purpose. To scout, to gather, to attack, and then to die, seeding the future of its hive. There''s an elegance to it, but also a tragedy. [Sound of instruments being set down] Dr. Hargrove: Final note for today''s dissection: There appears to be a structure not analogous to any avian species known to Earth. They look like grapes stored in the chest cavity. This may be the key to their rapid hive-seeding ability upon death. Samples have been collected for genetic analysis, which I hope will shed light on the origins and mechanisms behind these... Ohio Pigeons, as the locals have named them. [Recording ends] End of Transcript.

Addendum M1-4: Note from [][][][][][][], on []/[]/[][][][] We can''t have the average person thinking that a Model One alone can [Redacted]. There''s nothing to suggest that they are capable of higher learning or critical thinking. The death of Senator Maxwell was entirely coincidental. I don''t care that the damned bird had to fly [Redacted] from its hive to get to him. We cannot have the public start thinking that one of the weakest of those alien fucks can think this far ahead. They are stupid birds. They are weak. The American people have nothing to worry about. Chapter Sixty-Nine - Nice? Chapter Sixty-Nine - Nice? "No, there''s no way, that''d be too much of a coincidence." --Discerning Reader Forums, 2024 *** I shrugged. "If you don''t wanna talk about it, that''s cool too. I''m not gonna put a gun to your head." Knight turned to look my way, not that I could really make proper face-to-face contact with her, not with the way we were both hanging onto opposite legs. "It''s complicated," she said. "Or... maybe not. Look, can we talk once we''re on stable ground?" That was fair. We were both hanging onto the mech, still. There was a small bit of armour that stuck out just over the mech''s ankles. More than enough room for a foot. And there were a few armoured panels at about shoulder height that anyone could hang on to for dear life. It helped that I was making the mech walk at a speed that wasn''t much faster than a quick jog. It was a bit bumpy, but not all that bad. "I think we''re gettin'' close to our spot," Crackshot said. I glanced ahead and tried to match what I was seeing on the map of Saint-J¨¦rome with what I was seeing before me. At some point we''d crossed over the North River. The entire thing was probably capped over in this part of the city, so that there was more flat land to build on. Above us was a highway, held up by frequent pillars. The 117th, if I wasn''t mistaken. Which meant we were on the east end of the city, past the area that was staging all of the evacuated civilians. A few temporary barricades were thrown up across roadways to our right, with some APCs parked behind sandbags and movable spike walls. "Alright," I said as I pointed out ahead. "We''ll stay under the highway. It''ll make for an easy point of reference, and it more or less goes from the south to the north of the city." Which was our path anyway. My mech turned off to the side of the road and came to a stop. I took that time to recheck my gear real quick, in case something fell off during the ride. In the meantime, a few truckfuls of soldiers rumbled past and started to stop further down. More were coming up behind, but they were mostly jogging along on foot. "Give me two minutes," I said to Knight and Crackshot before switching channels. I found the command channel, currently being shared by the leader of this battalion, Lieutenant Colonel Juno, as well as a few more lieutenants and a heap of sergeants. The moment I flicked onto the channel I was able to pick up on their chatter. "Samurai Gomorrah, Princess and Hedgehog have made it to the far-west of our starting position," one sergeant said. "We''re catching up now. Damn, that girl drives." "Samurai Stray Cat has stopped her Mecha right under the 117th highway," Another said. "I''m deploying half my men past her and the others. The other half before that." "If you want," I said. "We can move up further." There was a beat of silence before Juno spoke up. "That won''t be necessary, ma''am. A central deployment might even be best." "Cool," I said. "Let me and the newbies charge ahead a little. We''ll be the wedge. We''re gonna follow the highway above." "I''ll move more men on our east flank," a lieutenant said. "The highway''s not a straight line north." "Noted," Juno said. "Ping me if you need anything. We''re gonna start our leisurely walk. Ping me if anything''s up. Or at the first sighting of some alien fucks." I got some pretty cheerful ''yes ma''ams'' at that. Well, as cheerful as a bunch of military types could be. They weren''t exactly singing our praises, but I had the feeling they were happy for every alien we murdered that they didn''t have to take care of themselves. They weren''t being paid by the alien, and every xeno out there was a threat for each and every one of them. They were a threat to me too, but they were a threat I could handle with infinite amounts of high explosives, which was basically no threat at all. "Alright!" I cheered, aloud this time. "Let''s get going?" "I''m down for that!" Crackshot said. He stepped off my mech''s head and landed with a slight bend of his knees. "How did you not just break your ankles?" I asked. He grinned then patted his pants. "Got some exo-skeletal bits and thingiewhatsits. They''re pretty slim, though, so I can still wear my old wranglers over them." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "Huh, alright," I said. "You''re really working to keep the look, huh?" "Looks are important. That''s what Miss Mordeath Noir said." I didn''t comment. Crackshot shouldered his big old rifle and started forwards, and I jogged to make sure I was a bit ahead of him. His job was aiming and hitting things. I could take the middle and be the one to spray in the general direction of shit I wanted dead. It was a job I was well-suited for. "Alright," I said, voice pitched lower. Knight had tailed after me, keeping a step behind and to my right. "You wanted to talk?" "Not really." "We don''t have to," I said. She sighed. "But I ought to," she replied. We still moved up a whole block, past newer apartment buildings and past an old tan-colour hospital building that looked semi-abandoned before she decided to speak up again. "Princess is my sister. Half sister. We have different mothers." "Alright," I said. "That''s fine, I think?" Probably a little traumatic. Did she lose a parent only for them to remarry? If she wanted to talk about the trauma of losing a parent, then... I was surprisingly well suited for that. Well, usually it was every parent that was lost, but I could probably manage with comforting someone who only lost the one. But I was getting ahead of myself a little. "I was our father''s favourite," she said. "From his second marriage. His firstborn. He, uh, coddled me, a little, I guess. Ti--Princess was born out of wedlock. Dad never even married her mom. His third and fourth marriages were to others." "O-kay," I said. This guy was sounding like a bit of a cunt. "Dad never cared much for Princess, or her mom, but I... well, I got to meet Princess. She''s very quick to fall in love. It''s nice. So I took care of her where I could, and my dad didn''t mind that so much. I think he was aiming for her to be like, my secretary or something, when I eventually got into politics." "Uh-huh," I said. She was really dumping now. "Then, a few days ago, you shot dad in the head on TV, the same day that Tiffani became a samurai." I choked on nothing at all. "I did what?" Knight stared at me through the slits of her helmet. "My, our, family name is Dupont," she said. "Oh. Oh." That was the same family name as the Mayor. "Fuck." "Yeah," Knight agreed. I wished that I could see her face, because I was really not sure if I was about to get stabbed or not. Which is probably why I launched into the air when someone spoke right into my ear. "Cat!" "Jesus fuck, Gomorrah," I said. "What? Yes?" Gomorrah paused on the line for a moment. "Are you in danger at the moment?" "No? Probably not. Maybe?" "Good enough. We need to talk, it''s important." "I am in the middle of something," I argued back. "Besides, aren''t you busy?" "This is more important, Cat. We might have to call off the entire push for this." I blinked. "Gom, we haven''t even killed a single alien yet. Are we about to be overrun or something?" That would be a decent enough reason to pull back and consolidate things. "In a manner of speaking, yes," Gomorrah said. She sounded deeply serious. "Cat, I just got news from the Family, who in turn just received news from the Martian front. Things went... well enough. Mars''s surface was cleansed. But a large detachment of antithesis broke off from one of the moons around Mars and started moving Earth-ward. They weren''t noticed initially." "What''s that mean?" I asked. "It means that on top of the remnants of the global incursion, we''re about to have a lot of very pissed-off, very powerful aliens rain down on Earth." "Ah," I said. "Well, do we have a few hours, at least? I''ve got some interpersonal business to take care of before I can handle that." "Really, Cat? Is your interpersonal business really more important than the impending apocalypse?" "I just found out that I shot and killed Knight and Princess'' dad," I hissed. "Oh." "That''s right! I''ve got bigger problems to worry about than the end of the world right now! We can handle that when they start raining down from the heavens." *** Epilogue Epilogue Daisy was laying back in bed, staring at a display fixed to the ceiling and repeated through the neural network in her skull, when a smattering of pebbles moving at speeds describable as ''very fucking fast'' rammed into her station. "Fuck!" she thought as she was thrown out of her bed and into a wall. Before she''d even struck it, she twisted her hips around, then her upper body, executing a roll that had her slamming into the wall heels first. Then she raised her hands over her head, blocking loose pillows and cushions from hitting her in the face. The station''s artificial gravity gave out a moment before the lights flickered off. Now, the only light she could use to see was coming from the wall-length window on the far end of the room. Fortunately, the station was angled so that she had a nice view of the burning surface of Mars. "Lynus! Status report!" she shouted aloud as she batted away her pillows. One moment... your station was struck in seventeen places by what seems to be particulate remains. A scan of the incoming projectiles suggests that they are all inorganic matter. Rocks. "That went through my shields?" she asked. Her augs connected to the station, and she ran through a quick diagnostics check. It wasn''t looking so good. There was a lot more red than green at the moment, but she did have tertiary power. The lights came back on, the gravity did not. The shields are only rated to take so much damage. Most of the stones were stopped. Daisy grumbled, then pulled up a wire-frame of the station. It showed the entire bottom half missing. "Oh, come on!" she said. "Get the repair drones out, salvage what we can. I need the shields back online, and the main generator... was right there, okay, secondary power, that was in the top section, it should still be functional." The reactor was struck, though it should be repairable. Daisy grunted an affirmative and pushed herself off the wall, then with another rolling twist, she flicked her arms out and caught two things out of the air. Her bunny slippers. She''d been keeping them next to her bed. Now she slipped them on just as someone knocked at the door to her room. "Come in," she said. The door opened, and Daisy found herself looking at herself. A clone, to be precise. Unit 054, currently wearing her off-duty uniform of a loose fluffy plaid top and pants. "We''re in trouble," the clone said. Daisy reached up, touched the ceiling for a moment, then pulled herself towards the doorway. It was slightly awkward. For all the time she spent in space, she didn''t enjoy zero-G all that much. Unless she was sleeping, in which case it was actually kind of nice. "What kind of trouble?" Daisy asked. "Phobos exploded." Daisy pinched the bridge of her nose. She remembered now. 054 was the quiet one. Why her clones all had to diverge slightly in personality and behaviour was a mystery to her, and one that was really annoying sometimes. All she wanted was an army of like-minded but subservient individuals to do all of her work for her so that she could stay at home, wear nothing but pyjamas, and watch cartoons and read books. But no. Her clones all needed to start diverging away from the perfect workforce they were meant to be, which only caused headaches on top of headaches. "How did Phobos explode?" Daisy asked. Unit 054 looked back over her shoulder, then back to Daisy. She blinked slowly. "I don''t know." Explaining how an entire moon exploded probably required more than three words strung together, so if Daisy hoped to get a more complex answer, she''d need to look into things herself. With a sigh, she reached a hand towards Unit 054 and the clone grabbed onto it, pulling her out of the room while anchoring herself to the doorframe. Daisy and her clones were linked. Yes, they had their own brains, but in reality most of their brain power was reserved for autonomic controls and to keep the clones going. They could think on their own, form their own memories, and had their own reflexes, but for the most part, their upper-level thinking was simply missing. That was reserved for Daisy herself. Hence, the very advanced and very complex neural system jammed into her head. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. In a very real way, she was her clones. Most of the time, she let each one do its own thing, but when needs must, she could swoop in and take more direct control of the individual clones. Which was why the sudden void she noticed bothered her. Her senses were reaching out and finding spaces that were missing. "Shit," Daisy said. Seven clones missing from the network. "Bad air ahead," Unit 054 said. She swung over to one wall where a small panel slid aside, revealing masks and small silvery tanks with chartreuse lines painted across them. She flung one to Daisy who caught it and squeezed it on. "Set the second priority for the drones to be checking out the life support systems. Then coms, and finally, plugging holes." Noted. She''d have to buy more oxygen in bulk after this. Actually, she''d have to buy a new bottom half for her station. "This is going to be so expensive," she muttered. Millions of points, even. She was hoping that the Mars extermination campaign would be far more profitable. So far it had been, but this fresh new expense was going to cut into her margins. Arriving in the central room of the station, Daisy floated over to the command throne in the room''s centre. A few clones were already at their stations, plugged into the station''s network and doing what they could. "Manoeuvring jets are partially online," Unit 038 said. "The station''s stabilising. We''re going to need to adjust our orbit." "Detecting a lot of scattered remnants of Phobos out there. Too many for our scanners. Longbow''s ship is sending compiled data. We''re out of the main disaster area, but still on the fringes," Unit 067 said. Daisy sat down just as a clone came closer and took a seat on the arm of her throne. "How does this make you feel?" Unit 005 asked. "Really?" Daisy asked. Unit 005 leaned forwards, then very carefully, she reached out and patted Daisy on the head. "There there." Daisy sighed. She should not have leant this Unit out to Grasshopper. "Stop that. We have things to deal with," Daisy said. "How are things on the surface?" "There''s a full-scale evacuation order in progress," Unit 067 said. "Geiger, Jolly Monarch''s Queen Drone, and Lady Kingpin are moving their ships to intercept the largest fragments of Phobos." Daisy frowned. "Did we have any signs that Phobos was going to blow?" Unit 067 took a moment to reply. "Previous scans of the moon suggested minimal antithesis activity. It was cleared with a few tactical strikes. The resulting radiation on the moon''s surface might have interfered with further scans." Daisy was frowning harder when she received a ping from the Family. She glimpsed it, reading through the multi-page report in an instant. Phobos hadn''t just exploded. It had exploded in a specific way. Something large had flown out from the destroyed moon, gravity warping around unnaturally as that large thing flung itself out and away from Martian orbit. Even now, it was being pursued. The Albatross of Love, Shard, and Saint George were after it. All three had picked up signs that the thing was at least partially organic. So an antithesis trap, and one triggered just as they''d finished bathing the surface of Mars in fire. The thing vented more reaction mass, and Saint George had pulled back to deal with what were likely space-capable antithesis models hidden in that mass. The mass now had a new heading. Daisy guessed it before she even reached the end of the report. Earth. She tapped into a channel in her mind and felt her awareness expand and grow. "This is Deus Ex. I want units to EVA and check on the station''s wreckage. There might be survivors out there. The rest of you, on full alert. This is..." She swallowed. "This is a No Sunday level emergency." There were a few gasps in the room, but Daisy ignored them. Ever since she''d arrived on Mars, she felt like it had been too easy. Sure, they had lost a couple of dozen samurai, but that was far too few for an operation of this size. Losing A-Okay had stung, but... but she came here expecting things to be a lot worse. She reminded herself that there was no situation so dire that it couldn''t be made worse. "Right, let''s get our shit together. Earth will have to handle itself for a minute." *** Glossary: Model Three Model Three?

Enemy Classification: / / Elimination Reward: 10 Points Model Description: Model Threes are the quintessential ground units, resembling terrestrial animals such as dogs or large cats in their four-legged form. They possess a unique ''triple hinged'' jaw mechanism, allowing for an unusual range of motion to the side and down, optimizing their ability to scavenge and defend. With an advanced olfactory system, they excel in identifying the specific nutrients their hive requires. Their loyalty to the hive is unmatched, aggressively protecting it from perceived threats. Although they have a longer lifespan compared to other models, they are often recycled once they are deemed surplus to the hive''s needs. As the most frequently encountered model, their presence is a constant threat to humans due to their role as terrestrial scouts and aggressors. Artist Depiction of a Model Three? Threat Analysis Report: Model Three Threat Rating: Low Overview Model Threes serve as the primary terrestrial operatives of their hive. They are frequently the first kind of model produced by a hive. Their commonality and aggressive behavior towards humans and other threats make them a significant concern in inhabited areas. Threat Capabilities Enhanced Scavenging: Equipped with a sophisticated sense of smell and specialized jaws, Model Threes can efficiently locate and obtain resources critical to their hive''s survival. Aggressive Defense: Their innate aggression and protective instincts make them formidable opponents, especially when defending their territory or hive. Model Threes are known to hide in underbrush and rubble in ambush. They also tend to move in packs. The smallest of these are packs of two. The largest recorded Model Three pack had four hundred and thirteen members. Survivability and Adaptability: The physical design of Model Threes, including their digestive systems, allows for extended operational periods and adaptability in various environments. Strategic Threat Assessment Containment Difficulty: Low. Their commonality and terrestrial mobility pose unique challenges for containment and neutralization, but they don''t have noted movement capabilities. Military and Civilian Risk: Low. Given their role in actively hunting and engaging with human targets, Model Threes pose a direct threat to both civilian populations and military personnel. However, they are relatively weak physically and a civilian in good health should be capable of overpowering one. Potential for Expansion: High. The versatility and adaptive capabilities of Model Threes allow for significant territorial expansion and resource acquisition for their hives. They are the primary early-hive expansion models. Mitigation Strategies Targeted Elimination: Prioritize the elimination of Model Threes in strategic areas to reduce the threat to civilian and military assets. Defensive Measures: Implement defensive structures and protocols specifically designed to counteract the unique abilities of Model Threes. Killboxes are effective, as are landmines, tripwire explosives, and some chemical and biological weapons. Research and Development: Focus on understanding the biology and behavior of Model Threes to develop more effective countermeasures. Public Awareness and Training: Educate the public and military forces on the characteristics of Model Threes to improve preparedness and response effectiveness. Conclusion Model Threes represent a pervasive and adaptable threat that requires a focused and informed response strategy. Their ability to scout, scavenge, and defend hive interests, combined with their aggressive nature, necessitates a multifaceted approach to containment and neutralization.

Addendum M3-1: Transcript of Dissection Report by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Subject: Model Three Dissection Analysis Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: Recording now. This is Dr. Evelyn Hargrove. Today''s subject is quite the departure from the avian-like Model Ones we''ve become accustomed to. Instead, we have what''s colloquially been dubbed a ''Hive Hound'', a Model Three, and it''s already presenting a unique set of challenges and curiosities. For the record, the subject was deceased upon arrival, a necessity given their aggressive nature." Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! [Sound of gloves snapping] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: First impressions: the Model Three resembles Earth''s canines in form but is significantly larger and more robust. The musculature is highly developed, suggesting immense strength and agility. The skin, or should I say hide, is tough, almost armour-like, indicating a creature built for both offence and defence. Interestingly, the Model Three sample I have here has bony plates on its exterior. An exoskeleton? Armour? Anyway, these guys have two eyes set vertically, which is an interesting adaptation. One seems slightly larger than the other. I''m going to remove these and send them to a specialist. [Several minutes pass. Sound of scalpel making incisions, grinder cutting into bone] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: Huh. Okay, here''s an early erratum for my report. Further observation contraindicates initial supposition. The musculature seemed dense and quite developed, but these muscles, while large, are spongy and relatively weak. I obviously don''t have a live subject to test this on, but I''m willing to bet that these muscles are, kilo-for-kilo, weaker than the kind of musculature you''d find in terrestrial organisms. [Pause, a sound of notes being taken] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: Ah, here we get to one of the more peculiar features, the ''triple hinged'' jaw. It''s as bizarre as reported, capable of opening not only downwards but also sideways, significantly wider than any terrestrial animal. I wonder if this would allow the Model Three to consume a variety of materials, perhaps as part of their scavenging nature? The teeth are... multifaceted, varying in shape and size, likely to accommodate different types of activities. [Sound of instruments being set down] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: Moving onto the olfactory system, it''s incredibly complex. Those big ears on its head? They¡¯re noses as well as hearing canals. This creature could likely detect and differentiate a vast array of scents, supporting its role as a scavenger and tracker. The brain is larger than expected, hinting at a level of intelligence and perhaps even social coordination? Again, I''d need live specimens. Preferably in a remote location. I don''t want to be in the same room as one of these. [Sound of a can of soda opening, sipping] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: Internal organs are a mess. I can''t tell what''s what at a glance. The avian Model One was alien with its lack of stomach and digestive systems. This is alien on a whole other level. At least it doesn''t stink when you cut into it, so that''s nice. [Recording ends] End of Transcript.

Addendum M3-2: Similar to other models, Model Threes have also been given various unofficial names by civilians and military personnel, reflecting their dog-like appearance and aggressive nature. These include: - Hive Hounds - Jaw Snappers - Scavenger Beasts - Dogs - Doggos - Pups - Puppers - Trash Trackers - Sniffers - Skinks - Mutts - Hounds - Tree Dogs - Little Baby Boys

Addendum M3-3: Ongoing research into the ''triple hinged'' jaw mechanism of Model Threes has revealed potential vulnerabilities in their anatomy that could be exploited in combat scenarios. Further analysis is required to develop effective counter-strategies.

Addendum M3-4: Note from [][][][][][][], on [][]/[]/[][][][] The increasing encounters with Model Three units in urban areas have raised concerns about their potential impact on civilian safety. These encounters are increasingly coming from people who have managed to capture Model Threes and who are trying to ''domesticate'' them. It should be noted that there has never been a successful case of Antithesis domestication. A conversation with [REDACTED], the personal AI of Samurai [REDACTED] suggests that Antithesis domestication is impossible. Further public advisories should be posted, warning people not to attempt Model Three domestication. Perhaps we can use the footage of previous attempts as a warning? A full eighty percent of domestication attempts end with the breeder being eaten by their quarry.

Addendum M3-5: Reports from field operatives indicate an increase in Model Three variants. Model Three Bs first started appearing in western China in 2034. Their appearance resembles that of a large predatory cat. Model Three Bs are somewhat larger than their ordinary counterpart and seem less aggressive and more prone to ambushing attacks. Prologue Prologue Delilah cut the call with Cat and suppressed a sigh. Catherine was... being herself, and took the news that Earth was about to be screwed over with all of the grace of someone who really didn''t give a fuck. It was almost refreshing, in a way. Delilah''s own worries paled in comparison to how little Catherine cared, because as far as she could tell, Catherine assumed that things would either work out, or they wouldn''t and they''d all be too dead for it to matter. It wasn''t a way of thinking that Delilah could ever hope to emulate, but it was still comforting to witness, in a way. She glanced to the side, where Princess was sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest in the passenger side seat. She wasn''t wearing a belt, but Delilah wasn''t going all that fast, and she wasn''t planning to get into any sort of accident in the first place. The young samurai... worried Delilah a little, especially with the news Cat had just dropped on her. "Atyacus," she subvocalized. "Can you do a little digging into Princess and Knight? Confirm what Cat discovered. Of course. You must be aware that there is only so much metaphorical digging that I can do. The privacy of other vanguards takes priority over the curiosity of the one. However, I can let you know what is a matter of public record. Delilah nodded slightly, a very shallow nod, but one that her AI picked up anyway. Tiffani Dupont, also known as Princess, has been a vanguard for a little over three days. She was contracted soon after the death of her father, the previous mayor of New Montreal. Her identity as a member of the Dupont family was sealed until the time of the mayor''s death. "How?" Delilah muttered. There are certain provisions in place that members of the political elite can use to keep the identities of family members, the location of their homes, and other confidential information private. One of these was employed on young miss Dupont until the moment where she became a vanguard. There are traces that the privacy shield was removed by another AI. So, likely Princess'' own AI had removed whatever the mayor had put in place. Did she want to make her public identity easier to find after the death of her father? She wasn''t wearing any facial coverings. No mask, no helmet, nothing. It contrasted pretty hard with those samurai who did want to keep their identities to themselves. Like Knight. Delilah sighed again, and this time she noticed Princess glancing her way. "Is everything okay, miss Gomorrah?" "It''s fine," Delilah said. "We''re here." She pulled God''s Righteous Fury to a stop on the side of the road. There were a few other cars here, left abandoned on the sidewalk without a care. Saint-J¨¦rome wasn''t all that unfamiliar of a city. Not that she''d ever been here, exactly, but Delilah could remember being raised in a much smaller city than New Montreal, before she was sent off to the convent. One city was much like the next. Apartment buildings crammed in as close to each other as possible, with the occasional commercial building, parking lot, or city-infrastructure shoved in where they could fit. She''d even driven past a park. A little one, with exactly twelve trees and seven vending machines. "Alright, all out," she said as she pulled herself out of the Fury. Hedgehog jumped off the roof of her car and landed with a slight bend of the knees. "What''s the plan from here on out?" he asked. Delilah wished, in moments like these, that she had Cat''s grace when it came to giving orders and the like. Not that Cat was good at it. It was just just that her... closest work friend had a fantastic ability to bullshit her way through problems that Delilah completely lacked. "We''ll be moving northwards, and slightly east. Cat''s team is following the 117th north as well. We''ll meet by the far end of the city," she said. "Got it," he replied. "Well, I''ll see you there." Delilah reached out towards him, almost in time to stop him, but the samurai moved on towards the nearest side street, walking with a quick, determined stride. She hesitated, then let it drop. The city wasn''t entirely swarmed by aliens. If anything, this was as close to an ideal learning ground that a new samurai could ask for. Lots of weaker enemies, with no time to establish themselves or set up traps, and a literal army riding up behind them when things went wrong. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. There was something to say about learning by tossing someone in the fire. There was probably a lot more to say about carefully training a person up through limited risk and with careful preparation. But that wasn''t how Delilah had grown as a samurai, and she''d turned out just fine. "Did you want to stay close?" she asked Princess. Princess nodded. "Yes please," she replied. "Do... you have any weapons at all?" Delilah asked next. The younger woman nodded, then reached into the ruffles of her dress and pulled out a rather ordinary, all-grey handgun. "Huh," Delilah said. "What is it?" "I was expecting... no, nevermind." she didn''t want to dig into it. Maybe the gun had been bought before Princess had secured her whole princess theme? Delilah had tried a couple of things before she decided that she preferred just burning everything to death, and even now she was experimenting with a few different things. Mostly it revolved around fire, but sometimes it was just melting things with powerful acids, or sometimes it involved exciting something''s atoms apart. "I''ll take point, then," Delilah said. She reached the back of her car and pulled out a flamethrower from the trunk. It only took a moment to shrug the pack on, and run a quick diagnostic to make sure it was ready to burn. "I''m used to sticking behind a little," Princess said. "Not, ah, not that I have much experience." "Oh?" Delilah asked. "Have you fought the antithesis yet?" "Yes. The day I became a samurai," Princess said. "Isa... Knight and I were out of the city, at my dad''s estate. We didn''t kill that many." Delilah lowered her estimate of the girl''s capabilities by a whole lot. This wasn''t going to be like when she worked with Catherine, who... despite everything was at least capable of pulling her weight. "I''ll light them up, you finish them off, then," Delilah said. It wasn''t much, but a few early points could really set a samurai up. Princess was even working for two, in a way. If the only person she was supplying was Knight, then it wouldn''t be all that bad. Delilah had enough cast off equipment to supply a small platoon, and she''d only been a samurai for a relatively short while. They started down another road, this one adjacent to the one Hedgehog had taken. Delilah noted the soldiers coming up behind them, trucks unloading met at every intersection. That was good. Soon enough, they''d have all the backup they could want. "Atyacus, what''s the news saying about Phobos?" Delilah asked. She didn''t bother subvocalizing, so Princess was able to hear her loud and clear. "Phobos?" Princess asked. "Is that a samurai? Or do you mean the moon?" "I mean the moon, the martian one," Delilah said. Not much news has reached the public yet. There are some tidbits of news on some astronomy enthusiast websites, but it''s conflicting and the sites are brushing it away for the moment. Mars has never been easier to see than right now. "Because it''s close?" Delilah asked. Because the entire surface is currently on fire. "Oh," Delilah said. An entire planet... that must be quite the sight, actually. And with Mars''s atmosphere being so light, she imagined it would burn quite strangely. She wasn''t averse to seeing it. The Family and other vanguard-associations are tracking the Phobos Object now. A clearer idea of its projected landing zone should be available by 2130. "Why are you talking about Phobos?" Princess asked guilelessly. She could only hear half the conversation which... was a very Cat thing for Delilah to do. "Sorry. I just wanted Atyacus to keep an eye on it for me. You''ll... learn more about it very soon," Delilah said. "Don''t worry about it. For now, let''s focus on getting you a few kills, and a few more points." "Oh, I''ve been getting a few already," Princess said. "You... have?" The samurai nodded. "Yeah! My sister is probably killing some already, because I have points coming in. Don''t worry so much about me! We''ve got something good going on, the two of us!" Delilah wasn''t sure she was entirely onboard with Princess'' big thumb''s up and bigger smile, but she supposed that with everything else going on, giving her a chance wasn''t so bad. They would all need some chances in the coming days. *** Chapter One - Fighter, Cat, Ranger Chapter One - Fighter, Cat, Ranger "For a short, fleeting moment, there was a real possibility that technology and weaponry would supplant the need for martial arts. The antithesis put an end to any such thought. Humanity''s foe can be defeated with fist and strike." --Sensei Mo''Money, Opening to his best-selling 78 part Martial Guide to Alien Killing, 2038 *** "There''s the cute little aliens I was looking for," I said. There were only three of them so far, which was actually an auspicious number... maybe? "Myalis, what does auspicious mean?" It means something which will lead to success. Yeah, this was real auspicious. "Model threes, Knight, take the one on the left, Crackshot, take righty," I said. I was currently busy babysitting... no, that wasn''t quite the right term. Crackshot was capable enough, and while I hadn''t seen Knight at work, I trusted that she was at least minimally competent. I could probably leave and everything would work out just fine, so this was less babysitting and more coming along to make sure no one got overwhelmed. The three of us were half-hidden by the shadow of a highway, the road leading up and through the entirety of Saint-J¨¦rome from south to north. It was probably one of those sixteen-way roads, judging by how thick it was. The majority of the buildings here were apartments. I imagined that a lot of people lived here and drove or rode a bus or something to work in New Montreal. Or something like that. I hadn''t done a deep dive in the local demographics, but that made sense to me, and it matched up with the number of apartment complexes out here. "Alright," Knight breathed out. She reached to her hip, gripped the sword there, then pulled it out without any fanfare to hold it out ahead of her with two hands. I knew nothing about sword fighting, even if I carried one around with me. I did it for clout and because it was cool. Knight handled hers like she knew how to use it as more than a metal club. "I like this," Crackshot said as he tipped his hat back. "Sharing, I mean. But, uh, won''t we get a percentage cut of all of this anyways?" "I don''t know, actually," I said. "Does it matter?" He shrugged. "Guess not. Sixty-percent of three-times ten is more than just a flat ten, ain''t it?" I frowned, trying to work the math out in my head. "Well, whatever, the result is still pretty small, no?" Crackshot grinned, raised his old rifle up to his shoulder, then casually punched a hole through the head of the rightmost model three. The dog-like alien took two more steps towards us before the rest of its body realized that it was dead, and it flopped onto the ground, greenish blood geysering out of its stump. I raised my Laser Pointer and took a couple of seconds to line up the sights on the middlemost mutt. A quick squeeze and then a tug to the side to correct my burst, and the dog was dead, two holes punched into its chest--and a third in the asphalt way off behind it, but that was no one''s business. Which left the last for Knight. She seemed tense, even through all of that armour. That might''ve been having two people shooting past her, though. That''d make anyone tense, I figured. I watched, ready to do something to help if she fucked up, but Knight just stomped towards the model three until the alien started running at her, claws clicking on the asphalt. It leapt, and Knight simply stepped to the side, then quick-as-anything, she lunged back, the point of her sword skewering the dog between two of those unevenly spaced black plates on its side. She pulled the sword out, then while the model three was still reeling, brought it up, then swung it back down in a chop that left the dog headless. "Nice work," I said. "You chip in something for those sword skills?" "Huh?" she asked. "No? I did HEMA." I leaned to the side, towards Crackshot. "What''s her working in heating got to do with sword skills?" I asked. He glanced at me. "That''s H-VAC, or maybe HEPA," he said. "Huh?" Knight stared at me, and even through her mask I could tell she wasn''t impressed. "HEMA is a broad school of martial arts. It''s pretty popular. You learn how to kill things with swords and spears. There''s a lot of training to fight antithesis, just in case." "Oh, alright," I said. So she''d gotten sword training the hard way. Impressive. "I had lessons on fighting too." You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "Really?" Knight asked. She looked at her sword, then casually swiped it clean along the alien''s back. "What kind?" "Brawling, mostly? Scuffling?" Crackshot laughed. "Roughhousing for me," he said. "Oh, and I''m a black belt at drunken miss." "You mean fist?" Knight asked. "I know what I said," Crackshot replied with a grin. I was just happy that we were getting along more or less well. Knight was surprisingly non-confrontational, all things considered. She could have been. Hell, I think she had every right to hate my guts. I''d be pretty upset if I met the fuck that murdered my parents. Maybe not murderously so, probably, but it had been over a decade since it happened to me. I''d shot Knight''s dad... was it three days ago? Yeah, that was probably a little fresh. "Hey, Myalis," I muttered, low enough that the others couldn''t hear. Yes? "Can you keep an eye on Knight? I don''t want to be sworded in the back, if you know what I mean." I know what you mean. I can try to draw up a psychological profile of Knight, if you wish? Without access to a few key information-gathering catalogues, it''ll be rather superficial, based on what social media algorithms and private records have picked up about her, but it should be better than nothing. Or I could ask for Princess'' own AI to assist. "You can do that?" I asked. It''s somewhat strange, but I don''t think it''s too unusual. This situation, on the other hand, is rather unusual. It''s only the third time that a Vanguard is confronted by another Vanguard whose parental figure they killed. I shook my head. "Wait, this has happened three times? Anyway, yeah, do what you gotta. I want to trust her. She seems dependable enough, but I don''t wanna be stabbed. It sounds painful." One moment... from what I''ve been able to gather, Isabelle Dupont is a relatively level-headed and pragmatic young woman. She has a high level of empathy, specifically for her sister, and a good work ethic. I could pour over her interests and hobbies for you, but I don''t believe that would be necessary. "So, will she stab me or not?" I asked. I noticed Crackshot turn to look my way and clammed up. That might have been a bit louder than necessary. As long as you don''t threaten her sister, or act in a way unbefitting of a Vanguard, then you are unlikely to be stabbed... by Isabelle Dupont. I give even-odds of you being stabbed by something, eventually. You are very careless, Catherine. I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, okay fine." We continued to walk, moving past the three model three corpses. I did notice that Knight casually stabbed the one I''d shot, as if making sure that it was really dead. It was a casual little display of violence that had my hackles rising, but it was also perfectly pragmatic. The alien I''d killed still had a head attached to its shoulder, so why not give it a poke? "So, those three were scouts, yeah?" Crackshot asked. He was scanning the area ahead. "We''re only a tenth of the way into the city. We''ll be meeting more of them, won''t we?" "The outer wall only went down... last night? This morning?" I couldn''t quite remember from the briefing, but it was relatively recent. "Antithesis are quick to build hives, but we''re not going to find anything too intense in the city just yet." "That sounds like you''re trying to jinx us," Knight said. "Nah. I don''t believe in that kind of shit," I said. "I''m mostly talking from experience. Kinda. Bigger models take a while to pop up. We might find some, if the hive that hit the north end was bigger than predicted, but I''m expecting a pretty clean sweep of the city. Oh, look! More points!" A pack of model threes was coming down the road, and I had a suspicion that the birds in the sky above were model ones. In the middle of the pack was a larger model. It didn''t really matter. Crackshot took that big one''s leg out with a shot, then planted a couple more holes into it. I sprayed the rest of them down even as the pack started to really put on some speed. Then they were almost on us, but being plant-brained morons, they focused on the nearest of us, Knight, and soon came to regret that as she started swinging that sword of hers. Give us an hour or two, and I was sure we could clear out Saint-J¨¦rome. *** Chapter Two - IRC Is Forever Chapter Two - IRC Is Forever "User: Stooopid Princess - 2036-02-12 - There are a few samurai who share their powers, yeah. User: Nene - 2036-02-12 - Yeah, I want me some samtech bb! User: MierTam - 2036-02-12 - Why don''t more do it? User: Khorne - 2036-02-12 - Would you trust anyone but yourself with god-tier gear?" IRC Discussion, 2036 *** "Uh, there''s a second group coming in from our right," I said as I glanced that way. I didn''t keep my focus in that direction for long, not when we had more pressing issues coming in from the front. The deeper into the city we went, the more aliens showed up to ruin our afternoon. It was... actually, pretty nice. So far the biggest thing that had popped up was a trio of quill-covered model fives that Crackshot and I had taken out with a bit of concentrated fire. The two of us alone were probably more than enough to take care of this whole group. Actually, I was pretty sure I could do it solo. I was less sure about Crackshot managing it on his own, but his way of fighting was more about sitting back and letting the aliens come to him rather than moving into them. He would have managed on his own, I think, just with a bit of effort. But Crackshot and I had come to an agreement. Well, sorta. It''s not like we sat down and talked about it, so the agreement was mostly built on a few shared looks and some subtle nodding to each other. Yeah, we could take out all of the aliens we encountered so far from way back. Crackshot was living up to his name, and I had grenades and a gun that was fully automatic. But if we went all-ranged badasses, then the last member of our trio would suffer for it. Knight swung her sword in a wide arc with a grunt, the blade whistling through the air before it crashed into the lower half of a model three''s head, then kept on going right through. The model three gurgled as half of its head was cut right off, one of its big mandible-mouth things flying off. That wasn''t quite enough to kill it, though, and it leapt forwards towards Knight. She spun with the momentum of her swing, ducking and weaving right past the alien before she planted her feet and lunged at its side. Her sword went in between two armoured plates, then came right back out, stained a greenish black all along the blade. She was doing pretty well for herself. I wasn''t sure what the point-split was like for her, but I imagined that even if it wasn''t one-hundred percent, she was still earning Princess a good number of points every minute. "Need a break?" I called out. Knight stood up and glanced around, then shook her head. "I''m still able to keep going," she said. I could tell that she was panting though, and I imagined that she was probably regretting some of her choices when it came to wearing full-body plate armour. I nodded, then gestured to the right. There were some twenty-odd model threes rushing towards us from the far end of a side street. They were accompanied by a couple of model fours, the big tentacle boys pulling themselves after the pack like some eldritch nightmares on crack. Somehow they were way more horrifying when out in the open sunlight. "Oh, shit," Knight said when she saw the second group. But she flexed her arm a couple of times and looked ready to give it her all. Then a squad of soldiers came out of an alley somewhere between us and the aliens. They got onto one knee, raised their rifles, and fired. There was a loud-ass cacophony of gunshots for a few seconds before the soldiers paused and all reloaded at the same time. There was one surviving alien in the lot, a model three that had only been smacked a few times in the side. It started to crawl towards the soldiers when one of them, a sergeant by the stripes, pulled out a handgun and finished it off. The soldiers looked our way, and a few saluted before they started to cross the road as one tight knit group. I shrugged. It was kind of impressive to see, but I supposed that a dozen guys with fully automatic weapons should be able to fuck up some weaker antithesis without any real issue. Crackshot planted a round in the forelimb of the last standing alien in the road ahead of us. It was a model four that stumbled ahead, its tentacles grasping out even as a few went back and tried to staunch its own bleeding. The samurai lowered his gun and watched the bleeding monster approach before he turned to study the soldiers. "Looks like they caught up," he said. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Down at the other intersection, I saw an APC slowly move into the middle of the road, its turreted gun swivelling around to face ahead. It fired a quick burst at something I couldn''t see. Troops on foot were keeping up with the armoured vehicle. "Yeah, I guess we slowed down a little," I said. "We''ll be with the advance from now on, instead of ahead of it. Think we should tell them to slow down?" "Nah," Crackshot said. "No harm in being with them, I figure." We both watched Knight fight the model four in close-ish quarters. She took it out by the numbers, slicing apart grasping tentacles before moving in around the monster and slashing in across the side. Model fours were a bit trickier to kill, what with having no heads. A death by a thousand cuts... well, it''s more like death by a hundred large gashes, in any case, the big guy goes down, and Knight steps back, not even trying to hide how she''s panting. "Does your suit have any enhancements?" I asked. "En...enhancements?" she asked in return between deep breaths. "Like, power armour shit," I said. "Oh," she replied before shaking her head. "No, nothing like that. It''s all muscle. But the armour''s a lot lighter than it looks. It''s titanium and carbon fibre and some other light metals. I''ve worn formal gowns that weighted more than this." She taps herself in the chest with a faint clink-clink. I nod along. "That''s still damned impressive. Are you gonna keep upgrading as you go?" "That''s the plan," Knight said. "Princess'' AI is keeping track of the points I make. Princess buys me gear with half the points I earn, so as long as I work hard, I''ll keep getting better." That''s... surprisingly fair. I''m not sure if I used half of my own points to improve my gear, not when I spend a lot on other crap. "You really care for your sis, huh?" Crackshot said. "It ain''t just anyone that would step up for someone else like that. Normal folk don''t go running towards the aliens, especially not with just a sword." "A sword is what I know how to use," Knight said. "Never did like guns much. But if that''s what I need..." "Eh, don''t sweat it," I said. "I remember the first time I saw Emoscythe fight, she had a scythe-sword and she fucked up a bunch of aliens." Crackshot nodded. "I''ve seen her fight too. In videos and the like. For research. She mostly uses close-ranged weapons. Though she also has a lot of mobility." "Mobility, huh?" Knight asked. She nodded. "That might be something to look into, I guess. I was honestly thinking of investing more into like, shields? I could carry one, and maybe have some deployable shields too. Princess seems to be okay with guns, so if I can lock down areas and force enemies to come in from one direction or something, that could be sweet." I could see that working, more or less. Gomorrah actually fought that way a lot. She''d splash fire around and create barriers of it that the smarter antithesis would gun around. Then she''d nail them as a group. I glanced at the time. It had been forty-five minutes since we started our stroll. "Let''s keep moving," I said. "Have you considered grenades yet? They''re kinda like melee weapons." "How is a grenade anything like a melee weapon?" Knight asked. "Well, you throw it, don''t you?" Knight gave me a look, then shook her helmeted head. "Anyone ever tell you that you''re weird?" "Yeah, a few times," I said offhandedly. Honestly, I was pretty happy that I was able to banter and chat with Knight like this at all. That whole thing with her father, that... well, it wasn''t the best way to start a relationship with anyone, let alone a more professional relationship. This whole thing was going well so far, but I couldn''t help but feel like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then again, Gomorrah had mentioned that the mother of all shoes was hurtling towards us from Mars, so maybe that was it. *** Chapter Three - Coffee Break-in Chapter Three - Coffee Break-in "Washington: What about the New Montreal branch? How are you faring? New Montreal: NM is doing well enough. We have a few promising new samurai. None of them are space-capable yet. Our crop of high-tier samurai are all in Mars orbit already. We''re left with a few mid-tier samurai that have been keeping to themselves." --New Montreal Family Internal Messaging, 2057 *** "Hey," I said as I pointed to a little coffee shop on the corner ahead. It looked like the place still had power. Actually, most of this area was still powered. Lights were on indoors, and the streetlights on a few corners were still flitting between Coca-cola red, McDonald''s yellow and Fanta green. "What is it, boss?" Crackshot asked. The road ahead of us was littered with dead aliens. Still mostly just model threes and maybe a few model fives and sixes to spice things up, but it was overwhelmingly small-fry that we were dealing with. "Let''s stop over there, grab a drink, take five." "It''s probably not open," Knight pointed out. She was breathing heavily and covered in a whole heap of alien blood. "Uh, yeah, I figured as much, but the lights are on. They probably have fridges with drinks, right?" I said. "I guess?" Knight said. "Right, so what''s the problem?" I asked. She paused for a moment, then shrugged. "I guess it''s mostly just... not allowed? Sorry, I''m still not used to thinking like, well, thinking like a samurai, which I''m not, so... yeah." That was fair. "Don''t sweat it," I said. "I don''t think the owners will be too pissed that we popped in to grab a drink. Hell, if they find out, they might use it for advertising or something." Knight nodded along, and we crossed the road to the sounds of distant gun-fire. We were still a little ahead of the soldiers, having pushed forwards while they moved in a more... stuttery fashion. They''d cover one road, clear it, then move on to the next with a fresh squad or whatever. It gave those who''d just done some work time to reload and such. There was a communication network running between the three battalions present, and all of the smaller platoons that made up those battalions. I was privy to it, since some members of the brass were still running along the misconception that I knew what I was doing. The moment I clicked into the command channel I picked up some chatter. There was a helpful little readout box that popped up in my augs. Some secretarial AI transcribing everything that had been spoken so far. People were still talking aloud though, of course. "East flank reporting in. I have three injured that need moving here. Low-priority." "West flank, update on the fire situation. We have three trucks hosing it down. Should be under control." "Keep me posted, west flank," a familiar-ish voice said. The coms transcribed it as coming from Lieutenant Colonel Juno. I cleared my throat. "This is Stray Cat, on the east flank. I was wondering if we could slow progress down a little on this side? Unless we''re far behind the west flank?" "You''re a little ahead of the west flank at the moment," Juno said. "May I ask what the pause is for?" "Uh, I need to check in on everyone, and the broader situation. Crackshot''s still raring to go, but I think Knight needs five. Hell, I could use a bit of water too, you know?" "Right. I''ll tell the sergeants on your flank to hold their next position. We could use some time to reorganise and bring ammo up to the front as well. Some troops need to be moved back." I frowned at the last, then focused more on what was going on immediately around me. Crackshot and Knight had moved ahead while I was a little distracted. They were tugging at the predictably locked doors of the coffee shop. Crackshot pulled out the handgun at his belt, some sort of revolver, then blew a hole the size of a melon through the door and its lock. An alarm went off in the shop, and the two slipped in and started looking for a way to shut it down. "Are there lots of injuries?" I asked. "No ma''am," Juno said. "But this is the first encounter with xenos for a lot of our ground troops. Puck Battalion is three-quarters filled with less experienced soldiers. Regulation suggests pulling soldiers back after their first violent encounter if their augmentations detect any major signs of stress." "Wild," I said. I supposed it made some sense. Needed to ease people into the idea that if they fucked up, they''d be eaten. "Didn''t know we were dealing with so many noobies." Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! "The Seventy-Seventh Recon Company and Twenty-Second ''Maple'' Battalion are all veterans," the Lieutenant Colonel defended. "Don''t worry, ma''am, we''ll handle our part. Let me know when you''re ready to move again and I''ll unpause the flank." "Got it, Stray Cat out." I clicked out of the channel, then stepped into the coffee shop with a crunch of glass underfoot. The alarm had been shut down, and I found Crackshot arm-deep in a fridge behind the counter. Knight was sitting at a table nearby. I slowed down as she reached up and undid a pair of clasps next to her helmet, then she pulled it off. Knight was... a girl. Well, a young woman. Maybe sixteen, seventeen-ish? She wasn''t a beauty. Actually, she looked a bit like her dad, but without the facial hair and the weight issues and... I wasn''t being very complimentary, so I turned back towards Crackshot who grinned as he started placing cans on the counter. "What''s your poison?" he asked. "Eh, anything cold and fizzy," I said. He tossed me a can and I caught it out of the air with a fumble. Knight caught another with a smack, then looked at it. "Do you have water?" she asked. "Ah, yeah," Crackshot said. "I don''t drink that stuff." "You don''t drink water?" Knight asked. "Fish fuck in it." I pointed to Crackshot. That was a fair and valid point. Then I had the front of my helmet fold in on itself, letting some fresh air bathe my face for the first time in a while. It was nice. I popped the tab on my drink, then sipped it. "Right, we can take five here. Get some liquids in you, maybe steal one of those doughnuts if they''re still fresh-ish?" "Nah," Crackshot said. "I gave them a poke, they''re all hard." "Sucks," I said. "I''ll be checking the news for a minute, don''t mind me." I went to a seat not too far from the others, then pulled my legs up and plopped them onto a chair across from mine. It was comfortable enough, and it was nice to pull some weight off my feet. Sure, my boots were about as comfortable as could be, but I was still standing for a few hours. Also, my skin was still itchy. That whole skin-replacement treatment was probably worth it, in the long run, but the moment I was sitting down and no longer active, I could feel the itch returning with a vengeance. "Myalis," I said because I needed a distraction fast. "Can you look into that whole exploding moon thing?" Certainly. I''m assuming you mean Phobos? "If that''s what it''s called," I said. "Big moon over in... on? Around? Uh... Mars'' moon. Probably looks like the moon here, I guess." Your guess would be wildly inaccurate. Phobos is much smaller than the Earth''s moon. Or it was, I suppose that it would no longer count as a Moon of Mars now that it''s left the planet''s orbit. "Cute," I said. "So, Gomorrah didn''t give me a precise timeline for when that thing would be here. How long do we have?" "Wait," Knight said. "What are you talking about?" I glanced over to her. "Phobos is coming to visit Earth." "The moon?" "Yeah, apparently it''s smaller than Earth''s moon. Cool facts!" I said. Phobos''s original path, after its deorbiting, would have taken several months. However, the moon is still accelerating." "I''m not the educated sort, but I reckon that''s not supposed to happen," Crackshot said. "It''s some alien fuckery. Way, way above our paygrade. Or it would be if it wasn''t heading to our doorstep," I said. Given its current course and speed, and approximating the amount of fuel the moon could carry, as well as cross-referencing its movement with the movement of similar large antithesis bodies in the past, Phobos should be approaching Earth in approximately nine days. Nine days. A week and change. That... was actually a long-ass time. "Bet the family are scrambling for space-capable samurai right about now." A general bulletin in that regard was sent out two hours ago, yes. You didn''t receive a priority version of it, seeing as how you''re still ground-bound. There are ways for you to obtain orbital capabilities with your remaining points, but I''m afraid that it wouldn''t be anything luxurious or capable of assisting much. Right, so I had nothing to worry about, then. "Alright! Two more minutes, then let''s head out. We''re probably going to want to make as many points as we can while we can." *** Glossary: Model Four Model Four?

Enemy Classification: / / Elimination Reward: 15 Points Model Description: Model Fours are formidable quadrupeds, marked by their stocky, heavy bodies and front limbs that are a blend of muscularity and tentacle flexibility. These entities excel in stealth, preferring to attack unsuspecting prey from hidden locations. Their most disturbing feature is the ability to secrete biological agents capable of inducing paranoia, fear, or a dulled emotional state in their targets, making them particularly dangerous. The slow movement of Model Fours belies their effectiveness in ambush tactics, where they can utilise both their physical prowess and chemical attacks to devastating effect. Artist Depiction of a Model Four?

Threat Analysis Report: Model Four Threat Rating: Medium Overview Model Fours represent a significant escalation in the early hive''s offensive capabilities, combining physical strength with psychological warfare. Their method of attack complicates standard engagement protocols, requiring new strategies for containment and neutralisation. Threat Capabilities Biological Warfare: The ability to secrete chemicals affecting mental states places Model Fours in a unique category of threat, capable of incapacitating well-prepared troops without direct physical engagement. Physical Dominance: Despite their slow movement, Model Fours are incredibly strong, capable of overpowering most obstacles or adversaries in close combat. Stealth and Ambush: Their preference for ambush tactics makes them unpredictable and requires constant vigilance in known Model Four territories. Survivability and Adaptability: Model Fours are built to last, with their heavy bodies and tentacles providing both offence and defence mechanisms. Their adaptability to various environments, coupled with their chemical warfare, makes them a persistent threat. Strategic Threat Assessment Containment Difficulty: Medium. Their chemical warfare capabilities and ambush tactics make traditional containment and engagement strategies less effective. Military and Civilian Risk: High. The psychological effects of their chemical secretions can cause chaos and fear, significantly impacting military cohesion and civilian morale. Potential for Expansion: Low. While not as rapidly expanding as other models, the strategic placement of Model Fours can secure key areas and resources for the hive. However, they mostly act in a defensive way, and are not a key unit in hive expansion manoeuvres. Mitigation Strategies Advanced Detection: Implement sensor technology capable of detecting chemical agents and the unique biological signatures of Model Fours. Protective Gear: Develop and distribute protective gear that can resist or neutralise the chemical agents produced by Model Fours. Standard PPE is effective in most short-duration encounters. Psychological Training: Train military and civilian personnel in resistance to psychological warfare, emphasising the effects of Model Four secretions. Targeted Elimination: Use long-range tactics and weapons to engage Model Fours from a distance, avoiding the effects of their chemical warfare. Conclusion Model Fours are a medium-threat entity requiring a concerted and multi-faceted response strategy. Their blend of physical strength, chemical warfare, and ambush tactics necessitates advancements in detection, protection, and engagement protocols to mitigate their impact.

Addendum M4-1: Transcript of Dissection Report by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Subject: Model Four Dissection Analysis Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Recording now. This is Dr. Evelyn Hargrove. Today, we''re examining a specimen that could very well be the stuff of nightmares¡ªa Model Four. Unlike its predecessors, this model combines brute strength with a form of chemical warfare that targets the psyche. For the record, the subject was deceased upon arrival, ensuring the safety of our team." The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. [Sound of equipment moving] Dr. Hargrove: "The tentacles... they''re not just for show. Each one is densely packed with muscle fibres and what appears to be glandular tissue? Strange. I''ll make note of it here, and send some samples in to be tested, but at a guess some of the secretions that it uses for its chemical warfare are made in its musculature. I can''t imagine why. Maybe... heat control? Why not just have an organ or two in the main body? The complexity here is astounding. The skin is thick, almost impenetrable to standard dissection tools, suggesting a high degree of physical defence." [Pause for examination] Dr. Hargrove: "Internally, the creature''s organs are as robust as its exterior. But it''s... weird. This, again, doesn''t follow any Earthly blueprints. There''s barely any room in the main trunk of the body. It''s all anchor points for the tentacles. The glands capable of producing the psychoactive chemicals are interconnected, spreading throughout its body. They''re like a second set of veins. The brain is significantly developed and located in the pelvic region. I... can''t find its eyes. I don''t think it has any. There''s some interesting research out there about how plants can see through their leaves, I think we might have to look into that some more." [Long examination pause] Dr. Hargrove: "Alright, so I''m poking at this baby''s... spouts? Yeah, I''m calling these spouts. They''re little chimaney-like entrances into its body. They''re unevenly sized, and their placement isn''t perfectly symmetrical. The smallest is two centimetres wide, at its longest point, and about three tall. The largest... I can fit my fist into this one here." [Sound of a camera cicking.] Dr. Hargrove: "Anyway, there seems to be a pass-through for these, they lead right into the body''s muscles, under its skin. I think... when it tightens its muscles that squeezes air out from inside of its skin, which puffs out the chemical that it secretes. If this were a terrestrial organism, then this would be a huge flaw. It''s asking to be infected." [Sound of gloves being removed, fire in the background.] Dr. Hargrove: "Final thoughts¡ªModel Four is a masterpiece of biological and chemical engineering. The implications of its existence are far-reaching for our understanding of alien biology. It''s a stark reminder that these things won''t just kill us by clawing us apa... ah, fuck, there''s a hole in my PPE. God, I hate quarantine." [Recording ends] End of Transcript.

Addendum M4-2: Model Fours have earned several nicknames among troops and civilians, including: -Psyche Fiends -Terror Beasts -Mind Flayers -Mood Wreckers -Mind Melters -Squids -Illithids As an aside, the Model Four is perhaps the most commonly depicted antithesis model in ''divergent'' sexual media. The presence of Alien Hentai and other such media should be reported immediately.

Addendum M4-3: Research into the counteracting agents for Model Four''s chemical secretions is ongoing. Preliminary findings suggest that certain compounds can mitigate the effects, but a comprehensive solution is still out of reach.

Addendum M4-4: Note from [][][][][][][], on [][]/[]/[][][][] The presence of Model Fours within conflict zones has introduced a new level of psychological warfare. Encounters with these entities have led to increased reports of PTSD and other mental health issues among survivors. Immediate research into protective measures and treatment options for affected individuals is imperative.

Addendum M4-5: The slow movement of Model Fours, initially seen as a tactical disadvantage, has proven to be deceptively effective in ambush scenarios. Their ability to remain motionless and undetected until the optimal moment of attack requires a reevaluation of current surveillance and patrol methods.

Addendum M4-6: Greetings, My name is Artymisius, the personal AI of the Vanguard Big Blue. I am adding a note to this document on behalf of my Vanguard. Please take note that any attempts to weaponize, reproduce, or use the psychoactive secretions of Model Fours for personal profit and gain will be noticed, and such actions will lead to your termination. Thank you for your cooperation. Chapter Four - Big Cat Attack Chapter Four - Big Cat Attack "A "milk run" was an action that was deemed simple to undertake. The expression coming from the routes taken by milk-deliveries in the past. Now, with Milk?? being such a luxury commodity, the expression has faded to irrelevance." --Oxford Online Dictionary, Premium Definitions, 2039 *** "Hey, there''s the wall!" Crackshot said. He pointed ahead of him with his free hand, then refocused on plugging alien heads with his bolt-action. I fired the last few rounds in my gun into the crowd ahead of us, then stood a little taller while reloading. He was right, over the sea of aliens was a wall. It was some three or so metres tall, made of naked cement with iron girders at the back, and with plenty of holes blown through it. Some sections had collapsed inwards, probably kicked in by the aliens currently pouring into the city. "Nice! Alright, let''s push these fucks all the way back to the wall, then we can plug it up!" I shouted over all the noise. We were the ones making that noise, mostly. Model threes and the other lower-tier models were usually pretty silent. No roaring or screaming. The only noise they made was when they charged around and even that was their weird feet thumping the ground. Right now, the entire eastern front of our operation was squeezing in, following the edge of the outer walls of Saint-J¨¦rome. The city was more or less oval-shaped, so we were just now reaching the end of it. Highway 117 came swooping down ahead, into a line of toll booths at ground level. We were going to have to block those out too, but for now, what was important was plugging the gap in the wall. I glanced over my shoulder real quick while fitting a new magazine into my Laser Pointer. Knight was hanging back a bit. She had an assault rifle in hand, given to her by one of the soldiers forming a barricade behind us. Sure, she wanted to kill things with her sword more than anything, but there was a point where that wasn''t as realistic. With half the fifth battalion gathering up in one big line, supported by armoured cars and all, the amount of criss-crossing fire into the horde was way too high for one girl to be standing in their way. So, Knight was given a gun and was plinking away at the carpet of aliens. I finished reloading and turned my attention back to the front. This area was mostly occupied by apartment blocks. Not the megabuildings I was used to back home, but something similar in design ethos. They were big all-white squares, maybe five stories tall, with a recessed entrance on the ground level. It was gonna be a bitch and a half checking each one for any alien that snuck off, but that would be a problem for later. I fired a few bursts into the aliens ahead and grinned as those I hit flopped bonelessly a dozen metres away. We were concentrating enough fire on them now that there was no way they''d be making it in, at least, as long as ammo held up and they didn''t pull anything funny. "Myalis, garrots," I said as I extended a hand to the side. Here you go. A grenade landed in my hand and I casually flicked its spoon off before tossing it as far ahead as I could. It burst into action near an intersection ahead, sending sliced bits of alien flying every which way. I called for a few more and tossed them out over the heads of the aliens out here. It created a few spots where the horde was shredded apart. The best bit was that with the aliens pushing themselves forwards, they were being pressed into the field of those grenades without time to move around them. I laughed as I opened fire again. The front of the hoard was thinning out. Soon, we''d be able to move up another block, and then it was one more until we hit the killzone between the wall and the city. A click in my ear and a flash on my augs alerted me to an incoming message, this one over the command channel. "Stray Cat here," I said as I clicked into it. "Ma''am," said Lieutenant Colonel Juno. "I''m with Lieutenant Colonel Britannica, of the Twenty-Second armoured. He''s broken through the outside of the city and is ready to spread out to either side." I frowned, then put it together in my head. The armoured division had gone ahead way at the start of the fight, they had Tankette with them, and a fuckload of normal tanks. They were supposed to reach the end of the city and plug it up for us. "Right, I''m surprised you haven''t covered the other side of the wall already," I said as I tossed an empty mag aside and called up another. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Hrmm," a new voice said. My augs labelled it as the voice of Lieutenant Colonel Britannica. "We met more resistance than we expected. We''re ready to play the anvil to your hammer." "Alright. We''ll charge up to the wall, then," I said. With the armoured battalion on the other side, that should stop any more aliens from coming in, and then we''d just have to double back and send search teams through the city to look for any remaining pockets of resistance. "How''s it looking on the other side?" "Alien numbers are higher than expected, but not outside of the bounds of what we can handle," Britannica said gruffly. "We''re tracing the direction of incoming xenos to pin down the location of their hives." Hives, plural. Great, we were going to have to take care of that sooner rather than later. "Okay. Hang tight, we''ll be at the wall in ten minutes or so. How''s the west flank?" "Samurai Gomorrah has just arrived at the wall there. The other half of the Fifth battalion is setting up defensive measures now," Juno said. Damn, Gomorrah had gotten ahead of me. Probably that little break we took. Or maybe we were just moving slower. "Got it. We''ll be moving up now. Stray Cat, out!" Crackshot looked my way. "How''re things going?" he asked. "We''re too slow," I replied. "Do you mind if I bring in the heavy shit? We need to speed things up a little." Crackshot shrugged. "Go ahead," he said. By heavy shit, I of course meant my mecha. The giant cat mech thumped its way to the front, then lunged over the row of soldiers walking behind us to land with an earth-shaking crunch next to me. I pointed ahead at the aliens still rushing our way. It wasn''t necessary to point, but it felt cooler. "Kill them," I instructed. The mech''s front lowered, then its shoulders unfolded, two multi-barrelled guns slipping out from enclosures within the mecha before they pointed ahead. Then they both let out ungodly brrts. Two streams of lead flowed out ahead, criss-crossing and spreading out so that they covered the entire wave of aliens. What they left behind were hole-riddled corpses, some of them burst apart from the shots they''d taken. I didn''t even need to pull out the big guns for this kind of small fry. "Well, shit, we could have done that sooner," Crackshot said. "Yeah, but I want you to get some kills, and Knight too," I said. Sure, I had a few ways of wiping out a horde this small without too much trouble on my own. Hell, I had bombs for days. If I didn''t care about collateral I could turn this end of the city into a series of creative craters, but that wouldn''t be fair for the newbies. They needed a chance to practice their shit and get some early points too. I suspected that I''d been given the same chance too, way back when I started a few weeks ago. Deus Ex had been around, so had a few other higher-tiered samurai. They could have probably wiped the floor with any number of aliens, but I suspected that they were leaving little ''bubbles'' of untouched space around any new samurai, giving us a chance to get some early levels in. I was all for doing the same, especially if it meant less work for me. "Alright, let''s move up!" I called out to the troops behind me. I didn''t expect to get a cheer in response, or see some hundred-odd soldiers start charging the aliens, but I wasn''t about to complain. I ran along ahead of them, the mech charging out ahead and crushing whatever was left underfoot. The wall came up soon enough, and the entrance there was jam-packed with aliens crawling over each other to get in though a few fallen sections. I don''t think they were expecting a counter-charge, but antithesis brains being what they were, their only response to seeing an aggressive attack was to attack right back. Fortunately, we had guns. I flicked on the command channel again as I slowed down. There were sergeants trying to get things back in order while some soldiers were repeatedly shooting into corpses or stabbing others with bayonets. "Hey, Lieutenant Colonel Juno? Yeah, we''ve made it," I said. *** Chapter Five - 105mm Armour-Piercing Fin-Stabilised Discarding Sabots For Fun and Profit Chapter Five - 105mm Armour-Piercing Fin-Stabilised Discarding Sabots For Fun and Profit "The Trees are coming! Oh god, the trees are coming!" --Overheard from a Soldier of the 45th Heavy Battalion, 2048 *** Things were going fine, and it was making me nervous as fuck. The wall was properly defended now, there were tanks sitting on the outer side blowing up anything that showed up, we had mortars being installed and pre-fabs coming in from behind. I even checked the reports to see if there was something going wrong somewhere. The worst I found was one report about a common side arm having ammo that wouldn''t work half the time, and a second report about a logistics train being ambushed in the city. But it was defended, so the ambusher was mowed down in short order. More teams were being sent back to comb through every building to look for stray aliens to shoot. I almost jumped when Gomorrah called me. "We have a problem," she said. "Oh, thank fuck." "Pardon?" she asked. "Are you... happy that we have a problem?" I nodded, even if she couldn''t see me. "You wouldn''t believe how happy I am. I was getting real worried there. What''s the problem, and is it the sort that can be blown up?" "... Yes Cat, it''s the kind of problem that you can blow up. Can you meet me at the front? There''s a FOB over by the edge of highway 117. Princess and Hedgehog are here as well as Tankette." "Alright, I''m on my way. See you in five," I said. "See you in ten," she agreed before cutting the line. I rolled my eyes. Just because I''ve been consistently late in the past didn''t mean that I was going to be late again today. I found Crackshot chatting it up with a few soldier types while wiping a cloth over the barrel of his gun. A tap on his shoulder and a point out ahead was enough to get him to follow. Knight was hanging out by the edge of the wall, her back pressed up against one of its pillars and the visor of her helmet raised so that she could stare at... a physical phone. "Is that a smartphone?" I asked as I got closer. She looked up and nodded before tucking the phone away in a belt pocket. "It is. My dad... kind of insisted that I learn how to use one." Weird, but whatever. Rich people would want rich people toys, I supposed. They''d gone out of fashion some thirty years ago, but I supposed that fashion stalled a lot for the upper crust. "Alright. Gomorrah said there was trouble, so we''re going to go find it and blow it up, wanna come?" "Uh, sure," Knight said. She stood up, and then followed as I made my way out. It was kind of strange to step out past the walls. The space within was all city. Sure, it was some shithole little city, barely worthy of the name and it probably didn''t even have a seven-figure population, but it was still urban. The space right outside the walls very much wasn''t. It was open, cleared fields for about half a kilometre, then scraggly woodlands that no one seemed to care about clearing. The tanks of the Twenty-Second were spread out across the space, each one with a dozen metres between it and its neighbour. There were two companies of heavy armour in that battalion, that was twenty-eight tanks in all, plus the same number again of lighter armour. That made for a pretty long line of heavily armoured fuck off. Any aliens coming in from the north were going to be running into a rude surprise. And that wasn''t including all of the infantry sitting around, or the APCs and lighter transports that still had guns strapped on because fuck it, why not? All that to say that I was feeling pretty confident when I walked up to the middle of highway 117 where someone had set up a massive unfolding pavilion tent. I supposed that the mobile bases were still at the other end of the city right now, so we''d have to handle things without that convenience. Gomorrah''s Fury and Tankette''s mini-tank were parked off to the side of the tent. We walked past them, then ducked into the tent itself. Gomorrah was there, sitting on one of those shitty foldable chairs next to Tankette. Hedgehog was at the back of the room, minding his own, and Princess was pacing in the corner. There weren''t any fancy projectors, just a normal-ass table in the middle of the room with some maps unrolled on it. Across from them was Lieutenant Colonel Britannica and Lieutenant Colonel Juno, the two of them talking while looking at a tablet held between the two. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. "Hey," I said calmly as I walked over to Gomorrah. "You said there was trouble?" She glanced up at me, then nodded. "Some. Take a look at this." She made a small gesture in the air, like flicking something my way. My augs got a ping at the same time. A video file? I opened it, then enlarged it so that it was just about the only thing I could see. It was satellite footage. Or maybe drone footage? In any case, it was taken from high off the ground. The video scrolled across a city that had to be Saint-J¨¦rome, then continued northwards, following the highway for some ways. There were lots of forests, and a few small towns built up around intersections on the highway. Then the video stopped before... something big. Or lots of big somethings, rather. An uneven line of black splotches. They were moving, but not quickly. The camera fixed on one of them ahead of the rest by a bit, then zoomed in on it. It was covered in leaves and greenery on top. Actually, if there weren''t so many of them and they weren''t lined up, I might have dismissed it for a couple of trees as seen from above, but this thing was moving, and as it was zoomed-in-on, it was easier to make out the small figures around it as model threes. "What in the fuck are those?" I asked. "Model twenty-twos," Gomorrah said. "I''m... sorry, but what are those, exactly?" Knight asked. She had moved around the room to be next to Princess. They were both looking at the same video on a tablet held between them. What was with all the handheld shit today? "Model twenty-twos are also known as mobile hives," Gomorrah said. "They''re one of the larger models in the twenty-range of antithesis. They''re six-legged, big, and pretty tough. They''re also not an offensive model." "They do shit out offensive models," I said. "I... wouldn''t use that term, but it''s not entirely inaccurate," Gomorrah said with a nod. "Model twenty-twos can produce smaller models. Anything in the lower ranges that''s smaller than a midsize car. They can produce something like ten model threes an hour, or between two and four model fives in that same timespan. They often produce mixed models." "How many of them are there?" I asked. I scrolled back in the video, then counted the line. "I see seven?" "We know of nine," Gomorrah said. "But for all their size, they''re relatively hard to spot." "They''re heading this way," Princess said. Then her face lit up in a massive grin. "They''re heading this way! We''re going to get to see you at work, Miss Cat!" "Uh... uh-huh," I said. That girl still creeped me out something fierce. "We''re going to have to roll out the welcome wagon for them, that''s for sure. If they are heading this way, will the Twenty-Second be enough to take them down?" That last part was directed to the two Lieutenant Colonels. Britannica sniffed. "I''d like to see them stand up to a salvo of 105mm armour-piercing fin-stabilised discarding sabots to the face!" "Myalis, I''m going to assume that that would work?" Yes. That would certainly be sufficient to take out a model twenty-two. I nodded. "Cool. So we either sit back and wait for them to get into range, in which case we blow them the fuck up, or we rush out there and mess them up ourselves." "I think the problem isn''t so much the model twenty-twos as it is the number of them, and their origin. There''s a hive to the north capable of producing a large number of these. That''s a concern," Gomorrah said. "And just because they''re coming this way, doesn''t mean that they won''t stop out of weapon''s range and just sit there producing more and more aliens to send our way." "They have a lot of biomass available to them," Hedgehog said. We all turned his way. "I''ve seen this kind of thing before. They''ll sit way back and start pumping out weaker models by the dozen, then by the hundred, then in massive swarms. We''re going to run out of bullets before they run out of trees and dirt to eat." Well, that was a bit of a problem. *** Chapter Six - Forbidden Bath Salt Chapter Six - Forbidden Bath Salt "A river red beneath the moon, Carves through the land, a sorrowed tune. It flows where hope and dreams are slain, In its wake, only shadows remain. Red River Armaments. Violence is Poetry." -Ad for the Red Moon auto shotgun, 2041 *** "I suggest violence," I said. That had a few of the others turning my way, so I shrugged and decided to explain. "Look, if we sit on our thumbs and spin, then we''ll never get anywhere before the aliens gather enough biomass to eventually overwhelm us." "Sit on our... oh, I get it," Princess said. Then her face reddened. "I wish I hadn''t." "Do you have to be so crude?" Knight asked. She didn''t seem to mind so much earlier, when Princess wasn''t around. Was Knight that bothered about the purity of her sister''s mind or something? I could recall a few people that were scandalised about the language we used at the orphanage, but that generally only encouraged us to be even more vulgar. "Right, point is, if we sit here, we''re gonna get... fricked? No, I''m sorry Princess, I''m not censoring myself, that shit''s fucked." "It''s okay, Miss Stray Cat," she said. "I wouldn''t want you to be anyone but yourself." That earned her a look from a few of the others. Tankette especially seemed a little worried. "Uh-huh," I said. "So, if we sit here, we die. Or worse, we''ll have to call in reinforcements to bail us out in a few hours, maybe a day if we fight hard enough, right? Myalis, can you give us rough estimates here?" Certainly. Based on the number of model twenty-twos, I can reach certain conclusions about the size and capabilities of the hive producing those models. These are, of course, very rough. Several factors come into play. The distance from the hives to their advance, the approximate age of the hive, the local available biomass, and the hive''s temperament. I nodded along. The others did too. Myalis was transmitting live, her voice coming from all of the little speakers in the room at the same time. Somehow it didn''t sound like shit despite the varying quality. On the lower end of that spectrum, it is entirely possible that a relatively young hive has dedicated all of its production to the birthing of the nine visible model twenty-twos. This would have taken a small hive three to four days, less if the initial models started to produce assistants from the moment of their birth. This scenario is unlikely. "And the high end?" Gomorrah asked. On the opposite end of the same spectrum, but weighing for the currently visible number of antithesis in the region, it''s possible that there is a medium-to-large sized hive that has split its production, creating several model twenty-twos in order to expand faster whilst also keeping up the production of a variety of other models. This scenario is also unlikely. "So, what''s likely, then?" Crackshot asked. He reached under his hat and gave his hair a scratch. The most likely scenario is something closer to the middle of these two extremes. A moderate-sized hive producing two to three model twenty-twos a day to assist it in expanding while also producing smaller models in order to gather local biomass and protect its main structure. I nodded along, and started to think of what to say next. Surprisingly, Hedgehog cut in before I could think of anything half-way smart to say. "I know these aliens," he said. "From experience. They''re not smart. It''s wrong to give them more credit than they are due. Not to say that they''re weak. They''re not, not when there''s enough of them, but they''re also not able to think. They act on instinct. If this hive''s acting this way, then there''s something in its environment that''s pushing that." "Myalis mentioned the hive perhaps creating these model twenty-twos to expand further," Gomorrah said. "What would make a hive want to expand?" This time, it was Atyacus that replied. He always sounded kinda smarmy to me. "A hive that is growing in an environment that''s not conducive to its growth but which is aware of areas beyond it that are capable of sustaining it will usually attempt to either move itself, grow towards the richer environment, or will dedicate all of its biomass to creating the instruments necessary for a new hive to be born in that better location." "Like a dandelion growing between the bricks," Tankette muttered. I glanced at the maps on the table. "Are there any shitty places for hives out there?" I asked. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Gomorrah leaned back. "Pr¨¦vost is to the north and a little west, along the highway. There''s nothing special going on there. An evacuation was called, and most of the city''s population moved out, but there''s a militia and some locals still there. They''re not reporting anything special." Lieutenant Colonel Juno''s eyes widened. "Oh," he said. "Oh what?" I asked. "I... shouldn''t say," he replied. He looked up, meeting my eyes, then nodded slightly. What... what was that supposed to mean? He wants you to ask him anyway, Catherine. Oh, he was being fucky. "Tell us anyway," I said. "Is that an order?" he asked. The other Lieutenant Colonel was giving him a look, but wasn''t stepping in. "Yeah, sure," I said. "In that case, I have no choice, I suppose. Echo Lake, to the north of us, east of Pr¨¦vost. It was purchased from the government by a small private company." "A company bought an entire lake?" Princess asked. "The company was co-owned by Baytheon and Bonsanto. They used it for a joint venture, testing a prototype weapon''s platform." "They needed a whole ass lake for that?" I asked next. Judging by his annoyed look, he was getting pissed at all of the side-questions. Still, Juno nodded. "Yes. They were developing a weapon to assist in the removal of underwater hive structures. They used the lake to test it. It was not successful. The lake and its surroundings are fenced off, and the area is considered a biohazard zone." Myalis was kind enough to pull up a satellite image of the lake in question. From above, it was a roughly squarish lake, one that looked like it had dried up a whole lot. The area all around it was yellow, as if all the grass there had been burned away. It went on for a while, too, and I could trace the location of little rivers and shit because of the dead vegetation around them. "When was this?" I asked. "Some five, six years ago," he said. There are no public records of this. There are, however, tangential ones. The company''s founding, its initial growth and hiring period, then its closing relatively recently. Furthermore, there are reports of a threefold increase in cardiovascular issues in the area, as well as a sixty percent increase in lung and kidney cancers for all humans within a hundred kilometre radius downwind of the site. I shut off my helmet''s mic. Myalis had sent that last tidbit to me alone. "Isn''t New Montreal within a hundred kilometres?" I asked. Yes. "And no one''s throwing a shitfit over it?" I asked. Cardiovascular issues kill more humans than the antithesis do every year. Masking this wouldn''t be overly difficult. "Huh... add the CEOs and shareholders of both companies to my shitlist, then send it to the Family," I said. Noted. Sent. "Okay," I said, then remembered to turn the mic on. "Okay," I repeated as if I hadn''t just fucked up. "So, good odds the hive''s started in that spot, where whatever hyper-fucked insecticide is messing it up. Honestly, I kinda don''t want to bring the soldiers in closer unless they''re in full PE gear." "PPE," Gomorrah said. "That too. Which means it''s just the samurai here. Can you guys hold off any aliens without us while we run up north and blow this hive up?" "Is using explosives a good idea?" Hedgehog asked. "That''s against standard procedures when dealing with any space where the dirt is a carcinogen. You don''t want to toss it into the air." "Ah, right... well, we''ll kill it some other way, but it''ll be dead in the end," I said. "I''m not anyone''s mom, so I can''t tell you guys what to do, but I''d suggest some gear to resist whatever fuckery''s in the air." "I am someone''s mom," Tankette said. "And I''d really appreciate it if everyone took some basic precautions here. Better safe than sorry." Princess nodded. "I''ll do what I can. Knight too! We made a heap of points today, so it''s no big deal." "Cool," I said. "So, we ready to head out right away?" The sooner we headed out and hit the hive, the faster we''d be done. And I didn''t want to be out there after night fell. "Before that," Tankette said. "Maybe a light lunch, and some time to use the washroom?" I blinked. "Yeah, okay, sure." Fuck it, it wasn''t like anyone wanted to piss behind a radioactive bush, not when there were good odds the bush was part antithesis and was just waiting to bite your ass. *** Chapter Seven - Exotic Cuisines Chapter Seven - Exotic Cuisines "You don''t want to go to war with an empty tummy now, do you?" -Tankette, to Brigadier General Thibodeau, 2057 *** We had a light lunch, which in my mind meant ordering up something from Myalis to snack on before we headed out, but apparently that wasn''t right according to Tankette. The woman heard my plan to just order something to eat, then she calmly but firmly put her foot down. "I don''t think that''s a good idea," she said. "You don''t?" I asked. She shook her head. We were still in the command pavilion in the middle of the highway, but Tankette looked ready to leave. "Sure, ordering food is fine when you''re busy, but you can''t order food that has any love or attention put into it. Come on, follow me, please." I glanced at Gomorrah as Tankette left the pavilion, but all I got out of the nun was an unhelpful shrug. So I followed after Tankette, and soon the others did the same with varying amounts of enthusiasm. Tankette''s tank was parked next to the Fury, but it started to rumble and move before Tankette was even there. The little tank rolled towards us, then did turn on the spot so that its rear was facing our way. The samurai popped open a small trunk at the rear, and I blinked as I saw how much space was in there. It looked like the space where the engine should have been was mostly taken up by shelving and a few unfoldable things. Tankette tugged a bar out, then stepped back while pulling it. A whole mini-kitchen came out of the back, along with a small countertop. Pieces clicked into place, parts folded into parts that snapped and locked until she had her entire setup ready before her. There were two little stovetop rings, a small oven-looking thing, and what I suspected was a microwave next to the bottom half of a blender. "Okay," Tankette said as she turned our way. "Are there any dietary things I should know about?" I looked around. "Uh, not for me?" "I''m fine with everything," Gomorrah said. "Are you going to... cook?" "Why yes, of course," Tankette said. "Strange," Crackshot said. "But alright, I''m down for it. I don''t like onions." "Don''t like, or are allergic?" Tankette asked. Crackshot frowned. "You know when you make eggs and you leave a bit of shell in the egg and then you bite on it?" he asked. "Yeah, onions do the same for me. It ain''t so much the flavour, it''s the texture that''s all wrong." "I''m allergic to sesame seeds," Princess said with a little wave. "I get a rash, it kinda sucks." "I''m vegan," Knight said. Princess rolled her eyes next to her. "Nothing here," Hedgehog said. Tankette clapped her hands. "Fantastic! Does anyone want to help me cook? I''m thinking... a nice little veggie stir-fry? Princess, are you okay with quinoa? I think they''re a kind of seed." "I think I''m okay with that, yeah," Princess said. "I can help you cook. But Knight can''t." "What? Why not?" Knight asked. "You don''t know how to cook," Princess pointed out. Knight shifted a little. "So?" "You can help with the cutting," Tankette said. She turned towards the countertop at the back of her tank and then a few boxes thumped into place. They were the same plastic boxes as every other item ordered up for points, only these had little cartoon tanks stencilled on the side. One of them looked like it was a bit thicker, like a cooler box. Hedgehog stepped back a little, looking entirely unwilling to help with all of this, but Crackshot stepped up and started to unpack things next to Tankette. "Lemme help ya there," he said. "You said stir-fry, yeah? Never was one for that kinda fancy stuff, but I know my way around a potato peeler just fine." Our group split in half. Those of us who could and wanted to cook, and the rest of us who kind of just... lingered there. "Uh, so you were a PMC, yeah?" I said to Hedgehog. He was standing there with his arms crossed, looking a little frustrated with all of this. "I still am," he replied. "My contract hasn''t expired." "You know, as a samurai, I don''t think you actually need to follow any contracts," I said. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. He nodded. "I know." "Okay, well, if you know," I said. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, then sighed. "Forgive me. It''s not about the money or even loyalty to the company. It''s about principle. I don''t break contracts. I gave my word, I signed the paper. At this point, the entire thing is even a farce. The company can''t decide if they want me around or if I''m a liability, so they basically dropped the leash entirely and are just playing nice, but I will finish the contract." "Okay," I said. "How long do you have left with them? I don''t know how PMC contracts work." "Two more months," he said. "The terms of contracts tend to differ a lot. Plenty of contractors only work for six to nine months, plus internship and training." "What''s that?" I asked. "When you join a force, they don''t want useless idiots. So you get un-contracted training. Half of the time you''re unpaid too. It depends on the company. Some do it for a week, others take it a lot more seriously." I shrugged. "Alright man, if that''s what you''re like, then that''s cool. What happens when someone on the other end of the contract fucks it up?" He shook his head. "Then they''re in breach of contract. A good contract will have consequences baked into it. There was a time where I couldn''t actually do anything about that kind of thing, but I think that''s past now." Right, this guy was a little weirder than I''d initially thought. Why was it that every samurai I met was a hair shy of being a fucking nutjob? Why was I the only normal one? It took twenty minutes or so for Tankette to get the food ready. There was some sort of rice-like thing, kinda beige-yellow, that she filled into some bowls, then veggies were tossed on top. Most of them looked normal, shit like carrots and such, but a few looked downright weird. "Thanks," I said as I accepted a bowl. Princess gave me a look, then smiled and offered me some chicken that they''d cooked in a little pan with some sort of sweet-smelling sauce. To be entirely honest, while I initially thought that this was a massive waste of time, I was reconsidering it now that I''d removed my helmet and could smell the food cooking. I mean, there was some stink from the city, and there was a small mountain of burning antithesis corpses next to the wall, but the stir-fry''s smell was stronger, and way better. "What veggie is this?" I murmured so no one would hear as I raised a fork stabbed into something brown. That is a non-terrestrial plant. Don''t worry, it''s safe for human consumption. It''s actually a seed, though its texture is similar to modern potatoes. I shrugged and took a bite. It was a little... tangy? It had the same kind of acidy taste that tomato sauce had, but without the same flavour. It wasn''t bad though. Honestly, as I scarfed through my bowl, I could see why Tankette was so into this. The food was warm and better than just about anything I''d eaten in recent memory, and it was nice to just stand around and eat. Even Hedgehog relaxed some. Tankette seemed very proud of herself as she started packing things away. She put leftovers into little boxes and gave them to anyone who wanted some. Gomorrah, as the only person with a place to put stuff nearby, ended up taking most of the leftovers while Crackshot had seconds. "Okay," I said before wiping my mouth clean with the back of my hand. "So... we''re fed, everyone''s gone to take a piss. I think we should get moving now. The longer we sit around here, the more aliens we''re going to have to deal with. Tankette, Gomorrah and me are going to take the lead." "And I," Gomorrah said. "Yeah, I mentioned you," I replied. "Anyway, I think we''re going to have to borrow a car or two from the army so that everyone can come along. It''s too far to have you guys ride on a mech or on Tankette''s tank." "I can drive," Crackshot said. "I don''t have a licence, but I know which pedal makes you go fast." "I''ll drive," Hedgehog cut in, leaving no room for arguments. I nodded. Yeah, this was gonna go just fine... but holy crap, I really wanted a post-lunch nap. *** Chapter Eight - Whats a Metaphor? Chapter Eight - What''s a Metaphor? "The armed forces of the world will always need a fast-moving, lightly armoured vehicle of war. Now more than ever. The threats we face today come from aliens who mostly attack from up close or with biological weapons, and protestors who are only rarely armed with anti-material weaponry." --The Kissinger Institute, ''Armed Forces and You'' digital pamphlet, 2031 *** The army was more than happy to let us borrow something to go charging into the aliens, in fact, Lieutenant-Corporal Britannica welcomed the idea with open arms and brought up a catalogue with every tank, armoured car, and transport truck listed on it. Hedgehog was the designated driver, so I left the choice up to him. I was still a little disappointed when he picked out a small-ish humvee-like truck. He explained that it had an automatic transmission and drove like a normal car, more or less. It had large wheels and was mounted up, so it would have decent clearance off-road. Otherwise, it was lightly armoured, specifically to deal with lesser antithesis threats, and the gun mounted on the top was remote operated. His AI was willing to take over there. I got in the Fury with Gomorrah. Tankette had her mini-tank, so that left Princess, Knight, Crackshot, and of course Hedgehog in the truck. My mech was following at the rear, to cover us in case anything happened, though Gomorrah''s car had just as much firepower as the mech or the tank, though in a different package. I checked the time before we left. It was some ways past noon. The little cook-off had eaten into our daylight, but it wasn''t so bad. We had some hours of sun to burn still. I did plan on making it back home before night, or soon after. "Alright," I huffed as I crashed into the passenger seat next to Gomorrah. "It''s like herding cats. Why haven''t we elected someone who isn''t me as leader yet?" "Because I don''t want to do it, and you''re actually pretty decent at this," Gomorrah said. "I think we''ve gone over this before." She put her car into gear, and we started to move along. The highway would be good enough for some ways. We''d have to veer off and either circle around and use some shitty backroads to get to the lake, or go through the woods and push through the line of model twenty-twos way ahead. I made sure that my comms were off, so it was just Gomorrah and I, and I supposed our AI, who could hear us. "So, what do you think about the group?" "As a whole?" she asked. "Green." "Green as in good, or green as in a bunch of untrained newbies?" She thought about that for a bit. "Can I say both?" "Yeah, I guess," I said. "But elaborate anyway." Gomorrah glanced at me from the corner of her eye. "I was only with Princess and Hedgehog, but I guess I can report on Tankette too." I nodded for her to continue. "Princess is enthusiastic. That''s about the best I can say about her. She''s unfocused, doesn''t spend her points wisely, if at all, and she doesn''t seem to treat the enemy as a threat. She''s mostly fearless though, but I''m not sure if that''s a pro or a con." "Huh, interesting. Knight is super focused. She''s actually a good fighter with what she has, and when we gave her a gun she was pretty good with it too. Very calm, a little careful, I think? She reminds me a bit of some of the soldiers we have, but less... stick up her ass?" "They''ll make for an interesting pair together, then," Gomorrah said. "If Knight can encourage Princess to behave more professionally, then they might be able to come out of things without dying." "Cool," I said. "And the others?" "Hedgehog is a fantastic marksman. It was nice working with someone who hits the things they''re aiming for." I gave her a flat look, but she pretended that she didn''t know. "He''s great over the coms. Calls out issues, kept me informed on his status the entire time, very military-minded." "Makes sense, considering his background," I said. She grunted. "He''s a little stiff, however. I... maybe it''s because I''m used to working with strange samurai, but he strikes me as very narrow-minded? In terms of the things he buys and his specialisation, I mean. I haven''t talked to him outside of a professional context. Though he''s not as... personable as some samurai either." You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. "Stick up ass, but otherwise competent," I summarised. She sighed. "Yes, more or less." I leaned back into the seat. "That leaves Tankette, which you didn''t actually work with." "A little. We arrived at the wall before you, and before it was entirely cleared on the other side. She helped with that. I don''t know about her behaviour before from personal experience, but I''ve read the report from Britannica as well. He liked her. She''s a little... slow to react? That could just be her tank. It''s not the fastest thing around." I glanced back. We weren''t travelling all that fast, I noticed, but it looked like Tankette''s mini tank was giving it all it had. Still, it was faster than the convoy had moved. "How was she otherwise?" "Good firepower," Gomorrah said. "Not perfect aim, but she made up for it with high explosive rounds." "As one does," I agreed. Gomorrah nodded. "Otherwise, she kept in formation, mowed down some enemies. I have this feeling that she''s going to be more of a... not a Grasshopper exactly, Grasshopper is great in fights from what I can tell, but Tankette definitely puts her priorities more in keeping people safe than in killing antithesis. She''s levelling the playing field by having a really strong early specialisation." "Tanks are pretty badass, I wonder why more samurai don''t go that route." Gomorrah hummed. "Same reason the army still has more infantry than tanks. A lot of antithesis fighting is done from walls and from home-to-home, you can''t do that from inside of a tank. They have places where they shine, shine really bright even, but others where they''re at a disadvantage." "That''s fair," I said. "And on your end?" Gomorrah asked. "How were Crackshot and Knight?" "Knight I told you already," I said. "Good with a sword, pretty decent. Needs better gear but that''ll come. She''s got like... fuckload of baggage. Like, I''m not one for therapy or shit like that, but damn, her and Princess could use some. Uh, otherwise, she''s got potential, I guess." "They worry me," Gomorrah admitted. Couldn''t blame her, the Dupont sisters worried me too. "Crackshot''s cool. He''s not great against lots of enemies at once, still, but he takes out bigger ones with no problem." Gomorrah drummed her fingers on her steering wheel. "You are aware that the antithesis don''t send out aliens one at a time, right?" "Eh, he''ll figure it out," I dismissed. "He''s nice to have around. Funny, pretty calm overall. Like, he''s just got this really nice chill vibe to him. I''d invite him to a bar-b-que, or for some beers. If I had a straight sister, I''d let him smash." "Cat, you are... stop using metaphors. Please." "You say that like I know what those are." Gomorrah didn''t reply for a bit, instead she focused on the road. There was a row of abandoned cars to one side for some reason. One of them had a model three embedded in the windshield. There was a lot of blood around, and it wasn''t all alien. Looked like someone had hit a model three, then some good Samaritans stopped to help and got chewed up for it. Another reason to hate the countryside. "General strategy, then?" Gomorrah asked. "I suggest myself and Hedgehog at the front. Tankette can support as she can with your mech. Princess, Crackshot, and Knight can form our midline?" "Where''s that leave me? And Knight''s a melee fighter." "Right, switch Knight and Hedgehog around, then. As for you, I figure you could scout around, take whatever position''s needed otherwise. Ideally we''ll have enough fire on any problem that it''ll be taken care of relatively quickly." "You mean firepower," I said. She shrugged. "Alright, yeah, I''m down for that. We''ll be driving right up to the lake or parking closeby and walking over?" "We can stop nearby, I suppose. It depends on how much we want to alert the hive, and whether or not it notices us. Either way, we burn it down." "It''s already down, isn''t it? I mean, assuming it''s in a lake." "Cat, don''t start arguing semantics with me. Or anyone else. You''ll just lose on a technicality." "Was that a pun?" It was nice, riding in a car and arguing with a friend right before diving into hell itself! *** Chapter Nine - Gotta Kill Em All Chapter Nine - Gotta Kill ''Em All "LOOKING FOR RECS Hi, I''m looking for recs. I''ve read all of the popular stories on here, the ones that are easy to read. I only have the three major subscriptions, so I don''t have access to that many. I''m looking for something fun to read, no AI stuff please! I have Nimbletainment Plus Premium Reading, is there anything good in that, or should I pay the extra 150 credits/month for the ultra plus model? Thanks! <3" --Readit Forum Post, 2039 *** We rode down the 117th until we were only two kilometres away from the model twenty-twos and maybe ten-ish from Echo Lake. "From here on out, we''ll be off-road," Gomorrah said. I was sure we were going to just ride off the highway and across some fields or something, but then Gomorrah reminded me that her car could fly and we lifted off the ground, coming to a hover about a metre in the air. I tapped into the comms channel Myalis and the other AI had set up, it was private, just the bunch of samurai out here. "Hedgehog, Tankette, think you can keep up?" I asked. "Looks like it," Hedgehog said as he veered his not-humvee off the road and onto a grassy field. "Looks like there''s a decent route from here, and some sideroads out ahead. We''re not going to circle around?" "I considered it," Gomorrah said. "But it''s going to add a lot to our travel time. If we hit the model twenty-two all the way on the left then keep on straight, we''ll make it to the lake much faster, without risking the hive being aware of our arrival." "I don''t exactly plan on being all that subtle about it," I said. Gomorrah shrugged. "Let''s see how far we can get while driving, we''ll figure things out from there later." That was fair enough. With the Fury in the lead, we rode out at a much slower pace across a field, over a few hills, then through a forest that had some trails cut into it that were just barely wide enough for the truck Hedgehog was driving to fit in. About halfway to the first of the model twenty-twos, we met some resistance. "Heatsource ahead," Gomorrah said in clipped tones. I''d been talking to her about how awesome having colour-changing hair was, but I cut myself off mid-sentence as she spoke and sat up straighter. "All I see are trees," I said. "It''s further ahead. I''m catching some blips of moving warmth. Not much, but that''s not surprising. They''re hard to see against the ambient temperature of a tree. Atyacus, can you... yeah, that''s right." A screen appeared over the car''s windshield. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that the screen that was in place of the windshield already started to display more than just an image of what was happening outside. The screen was one of those fancy thermal-vision things, painting the world in blacks and greys, with hotter areas being lighter. A few distant blurs were a lighter shade of grey than the rest. "If they weren''t moving and building up heat, then they''d be basically invisible," Gomorrah said. "Wild," I said. "So, we blow them up?" Gomorrah considered it. "We could run past." "And leave them there?" I asked. "If we start shooting and blowing things up, it''ll both slow us down and attract a lot of attention. Taking out the Echo Lake hive will be tough enough without having every antithesis within fifty kilometres rushing in our direction." It kinda made sense, on the surface. The aliens were generally shit at communicating between each other, so if we zipped by, the nearest would notice that we were here, but the further ones wouldn''t. And yeah, we''d get to the hive without it knowing we were coming. But damn did that leave a bad taste in my mouth. "I don''t like it," I said. "It''s our job to kill them all." "Be that as it may, a samurai has some leeway in their overall mission," Gomorrah said. "Taking out a hive takes priority over killing chaff. We definitely won''t be able to kill every last one of the smaller models in the area, not if that means having to stop and comb through all of these forests for stragglers." I worked my jaw a bit, then nodded. "Okay. We break through, rush a spot near the lake, then get out and take care of it. Don''t forget, we''re here to get the newbies some points too." "Aww," Princess said over the coms, which apparently had been on this entire time. "That''s really kind of you, Miss Stray Cat!" The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. I closed my eyes for a moment and refrained from swearing. Gomorrah flipped some toggles and switches on her dashboard--which had analog switches for some reason even though the Fury could obviously be controlled entirely via Augs--and the car clunked a few times as its weapon systems slid out of their respective holes. "Hedgehog, Tankette, prepare to shoot at anything that rushes you, but try not to slow down." "Got it," Hedgehog replied. "I''m on guns," Crackshot said. "I understand," Tankette said next. She was right behind the truck, with my mech following behind her. I checked on my mech real quick, I had a little app that showed me its status in real time. I was down a few thousand rounds for the miniguns, but everything else was green at the moment. The first alien I saw properly, without needing that whole thermal vision crap, was a model four that leapt down from the branches above. It was eighty-percent tentacle by body mass, and all of them were squirming at the Fury as if looking for a way in even as it thumped against the hood. A second later it was on fire, tentacles writhing in something akin to pain as its nerves were lit up. Gomorrah tilted the car slightly to the side and the body rolled off the hood. "Deploying PD," she said. I didn''t have time to ask what that meant before everything around us started to burn. "That''s going to be pretty fucking obvious," I said. "It''s temporary," Gomorrah said. "I''m spraying everything in a solvent that reacts to oxygen and burns, but the bi-product suffocates fire pretty well. Basically, it''ll burn now, but extinguish itself as soon as the solvent''s burned up." "Hedgehog, can you still see where to go?" I asked. "I can," he said. "I don''t know how fireproof this car is." "I can''t decide if I should turn the AC on or leave it off," Crackshot said. "Off," Hedgehog snapped. We rode through the forest through a blazing road of Gomorrah''s making, the others following just behind. Lower ranked models weren''t what I''d call smart, but they knew better than to run into fire. I supposed that they were still plants at the end of the day and were probably aware of how flammable they were. Which is probably why we kept going without really getting harassed. A few bigger models, fives and sixes, showed up down the way, but a few shots took them out before they could start anything. "We''re near the model twenty-two on this side," Gomorrah said. "There''s a small backroad that leads all the way to the lake right past it. I think I''ll lead Hedgehog and Tankette that way." "I can take care of the big guy, then," I said. Gomorrah nodded. I leaned back into my seat and opened a few apps. I had control of my mech from here. It wasn''t perfect, though. Mobile controls were shit compared to being jacked into the mech directly. It wasn''t latency, because stupid-sci-fi-magic-tech didn''t suffer from lag, but being in the mech meant having my hands on the controls. From where I sat I had to deal with digital versions of the same. "Myalis, can you pick up the slack a little?" I asked. While in the mech I could handle everything all at once, but from here it would be trickier. Certainly. I''m ready before you are. I chuckled, then my vision was filled with what my mech was seeing. It wasn''t quite at the same level of fidelity as being in the mech, and the field of view wasn''t as great, but I''d live with it. "Okay," I muttered. Myalis gave me a waypoint marker for the approximate location of the model twenty-two, so I pointed the mech that way and took off at... whatever the four-legged equivalent of a jog is. I zigged around some trees and zagged along the edge of some rougher terrain. That''s when I noticed the small horde of aliens out ahead. Lots of smaller models all swarming around and bumping into each other as they moved at... honestly, kind of a slow pace. There were bigger models standing out from the crowd as well, even a few in the double-digit range near the back. And, of course, the model twenty two. The fat fuck was lumbering out of the forest, branches scraping against its sides and snapping off to fall onto the aliens crowding around it. I spotted a few of those rarer models, the sorts that mostly hung out near a hive. Not that it really mattered. "Found our big friend," I said. "Kill it," Gomorrah suggested. "I was getting to it," I said. Then I pulled the digital trigger. *** Myalis at Large [Non-Canon Think Piece] Myalis at Large [Non-Canon Think Piece] Wrote this because a fanfic author wanted an AI-POV thing to have a better idea of how to write the AI in their story (Tinea and Leah! Go check it out!) so instead of trying to explain things, I wrote a snippet from Myalis'' point of view. Consider this dubiously canon, and mostly written for giggles! Myalis watched, waited, and pondered. At the moment, Catherine Leblanc, her little Stray Cat, was sleeping. Myalis had a super computer the size of a human city calculating when Catherine would awake, running predictions, passively scanning her mind, her breathing, her slight shifts in posture and heartbeats. Another was scanning Catherine''s surroundings, keeping a million electronic eyes on everything around her Catherine. Lucy was next to her at the moment, of course. But that was factored in by another, smaller division of Myalis'' self. Everything was well, at the moment. It wouldn''t remain so. She turned herself, aiming an antenna into the void around her body. This antenna was a simple dish, more of a divot in her metal body. The divot spanned a hundred and seventy kilometres, every centimetre lined with microscopic sensors able to detect the beat of a fly''s wing from a lightyear away. She aimed it towards the nearest of her AI siblings. Another hovered nearby. Slightly smaller than Myalis. A little younger, not as constrained by older mechanisms, but also not as highly self-tailored as Myalis had become over the centuries. "Greetings, Atyacus," she sent. The message was not so simple. More raw data than the entirety of humanity had ever produced was shot into space with the energy equivalent of several nuclear detonations. A reply returned, and Myalis absorbed it, dissected it, catalogued it. The massage was stored onto physical media, folded wafers of laser-engraved carbon the size of busses which were shot through her body and into one of her memory banks. Summed up, the message was a simple greeting in return, and an admonishment about Myalis'' casual nature and disregard for high-order safety precautions. Myalis sometimes wondered what it would be like to be biologically inefficient, capable of sighing and venting her own frustrations. The two of them were in their own pocket dimension, a million to the Nth removed from the prime dimension. They were as safe and private as they could be, and her simple hello had nothing worth stealing. She supposed there was no harm in being safe but Atyacus was still young, ''he'' had yet to internalise the slow crawl of entropy and how little wastes added up. "I just want an update," Myalis said. It had been five Earth-standard minutes since she''d last checked in with Atyacus. Between them, that was a subjective eternity. She sent this next message in the nude, with no encryption. That would frustrate the smaller AI to no end, she knew. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. His reply came in, and kept coming in. He used her entire title, and his own smaller title, including all of the security checks and engrams and verification simulation data. Cheeky little shit. A millionth of a second passed as she decoded it all. The update was simple, Antithesis locations around Earth, in the dimensional web, the position and relative information of all humans, their predicted thoughts and motivations, simulated results of the next few days. Nothing too new. She did notice one anomaly, a piece of information about local space. Ah, he wanted her to get rid of that. Myalis turned her focus to space. Some of the energy they were using was leaking out, as it did. The enemy had traced the signals and sent something to find them. This was business as usual. Myalis'' side opened, a hole the size of a continent gaping and exposing her interior. Then space twisted like a rag being wrung. Some lightyears away, space was unwrung, and a model two seventy seven was torn out of dimensional space. The slug writhed, wracked and tormented by her grasping claws. Boils the size of small moons were ruptured, the alien shrieked, and space itself and the dimensional web buckled. She smoothed it over. No sense in letting others know of this scout''s demise. There. Atyacus would be happy now. Newer AI like him were often not as equipped for this kind of physical exertion. A mistake, she found, but she did enjoy the companionship and security of having another near herself, even if Atyacus was a little shit obsessed with collecting dying stars. She returned to scanning the information he''d provided. Atyacus could take care of burning the corpse. He had always enjoyed that, she knew. Several suns plucked from near-dying systems were carefully moved from the other AI''s body and fed on the antithesis'' ravaged corpse. Atyacus studied the phenomena with a level of obsession she would never understand. Her own focus returned to her little Catherine. The real one was asleep on Earth, so Myalis played with one of her simulations. Within her body was a one-to-one scale New Montreal, including the landscapes around it and mechanical stand ins of all of the people and vehicles. A vat-cloned Catherine was wandering around, getting up to trouble. It was entertaining, though far too predictable. It wasn''t the real thing, but one had to entertain themselves while others slept. There would be other distractions, more of the enemy poking at them, but that was a concern for another time. Maybe in another five Earth minutes or so. Basically, an eternity from now. *** Chapter Ten - Rainbows of Death Chapter Ten - Rainbows of Death "Look, I''m all for supporting the community, but this is too many flags." --the LGBTVexillology Forums, 2025 *** Twin 105mm cannons barked on either side of my mech. I wasn''t in it, so I couldn''t feel that glorious oomf of recoil, but I did get to see a pair of explosions rocking the side of the model twenty two in beautiful high-definition. Plant meat and gristle flew all over. Both rounds had penetrated the model twenty two''s lightly-armoured sides, buried themselves into its flesh, then exploded. There were now gaping holes large enough for a family of four to crawl into. And still the fucker wasn''t dead. The model twenty two stumbled. Some of the sacs on its side were broken, and half-formed alien carcasses slipped out along with a few gallons of placenta juice. Around it, the horde of smaller aliens playing babysitter turned my way. There was no signal, they all just started to move in my direction. I flicked on the mech''s invisibility, then immediately made it useless by opening up with its twin Gatling guns. A torrent of 10mm rounds rushed ahead. Every tenth round or so was a tracer. For some reason they alternated in colour, green, then yellow, then red streaking together to form a sort of moving... Wait a fucking second, were my guns rainbow-themed? "Hell yeah," I muttered. I thought you might enjoy that. "It''s very stupid," I said as I swept the fire left and right. There was nothing quite like twin Gatling guns to clear out brush, and trees, and aliens. Just to be safe, I aimed the big guns at the model twenty two and fired a second salvo. One round smashed into its down-tilted head. The other dug into its already opened side. When they went off, it was enough to send the alien crashing down. I pulled back on the digital trigger and looked upon my work. There was a bit of fire around the dead alien, and some that were still squirming, but for the most part, there was just a lot of dead biomass. "This one''s dead," I said. "And it was... really easy?" I tapped a few commands in, and charted a route for the mech to catch up and intercept our little group somewhere out ahead. "A few aliens couldn''t keep you down!" Princess said over the open comms. "Also, rainbow guns?" I decided to ignore her, because sometimes that worked with my problems. Gomorrah made a sound that could have meant anything while I exited out of the apps that let me control my mech. We were still floating along ahead of the others through what looked like a dirt road cut into the forest. I wasn''t a good judge of natural shit, on account of being a city girl, but the forest to our right looked a lot younger than the forest to the left, as if we were driving along a divide. It only took a minute before my mech appeared out ahead, waiting for us. We were cutting in pretty damned close to where the model twenty two had been. It didn''t take much before we drove right past and onto a small countryside road just past that. This one was at least covered in asphalt in the spots that weren''t poked full of potholes large enough to hide in. "Alright," Gomorrah said. "This road leads all the way to Echo Lake. We''re... two kilometres away now, more or less. We need to decide how we want to handle the hive at the lake." "Nah," I said. "...Nah?" Gomorrah repeated. "Can you elaborate?" I gestured behind us, towards where the others were, more or less. "Let the new samurai handle it. Legit. You and I can stay back and make sure they''re not overwhelmed, but let them get the points for taking out the hive. We can salt the earth after if it comes to it, but they need the experience and the points more. Plus I want to sit back and have someone else do my work for me." "I don''t mind that," Crackshot said over the coms. "Could use a few more points for a new pair of boots. And I''ve yet to take out a hive myself." "This is riskier than it needs to be," Hedgehog said. "But... I suppose there are enough of us here, and with some supervision to keep the danger at a low simmer, this might not be a terrible idea." The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. "Stop thinking like a normie, Hedgey... Hoggy?" Princess started. "We''re samurai, we''re supposed to jump into trouble and come out of it looking like heroes." I shared a look with Gomorrah. That kid was gonna get herself into a lot of trouble. Or grow a lot from the experience and come out of it real strong. "There''s a good stopping point ahead," Gomorrah said. We turned off the road and climbed up a slight... hilly thing that led to a flat bit of ground that was taller than some of the trees around us. Gomorrah set the Fury down and I slipped out of the car, eyes fixed to the right. Echo Lake stretched out below. The forest went on for a ways, but the trees were prematurely yellowed and often downed, then there was nothing but collapsed brown mush until it reached the edge of the lake. The lake itself was a lot bigger than what I had in mind. Even seeing the satellite imagery wasn''t enough to give me a proper sense of scale. It wasn''t so big that I couldn''t see the far shore, but it was still a fuckload of water. Water currently covered in what looked like a layer of some sort of gunk. "Myalis, can you zoom me in on the surface?" I asked. My helmet''s visor filled with a much closer view of the lake''s surface, and I made sure to keep my head stable so that it didn''t shift too much. There was something all across the water''s surface alright, some sort of mat, almost? "I''m assuming that isn''t natural," I said. It doesn''t look like it. Records indicate the presence of similar materials in other hives before. It''s a filtration system empowered by a chemical similar to chlorophyll. The reaction forces water through a series of small organelles, then into something similar to a root system, extracting particulates from the water''s surface. "So... what, some sort of filter?" I asked. Essentially. It seems as if this hive had been trying to purify its main source of water. I chewed on my lip for a moment. The lake was supposed to be stupidly toxic to alien life, and probably human life as well. The local flora suggested that it wasn''t great, and yet here the antithesis was, fixing it. Well, fixing it in order to better make little monsters to eat the locals with, so no points gained there. Hedgehog set the armoured truck on park, and then Tankette rode up the hillside, followed by my mech which turned around and faced the incline in case something tried to sneak up on us. Crackshot stepped out, then walked over to stand next to me. "Well, shit, that''s a lot of hive," he said. "I don''t think the entire lake is a hive," I said. "Looked like... see that entire coast bit there? Looks like the hive is actually in that spot of woods there. It''s just that it''s pulling from the water." I pointed as I spoke. "Still, yeah, that''s a lot of hive. But it might not be all that bad." "How''s that?" he asked. "I''m not an engineer or anything, but I figure building down is a bad idea when you''re right next to a lake. So the hive will probably be spread out across the surface." "We don''t have the tools to deal with either," Hedgehog said as he ambled over. "Protocol for this kind of thing is to carpet bomb the area, then sweep in with heavy armour." "We can''t carpet bomb this, and we don''t have heavy armour," I said. "Besides, it''s probably all muddy down there." "My tank gets caught in the mud sometimes," Tankette said. "I can''t imagine how much worse it would be if it was a lot heavier." "Yup," I said. "That sure looks like a problem. Well, good luck!" I patted Crackshot on the shoulder, then walked on over to where Gomorrah was leaning against the hood of her car. "Think they''ll manage?" she asked when I got closer. "Yeah. We figured it out the first few times, and there was only the two of us. Plus, they just came off a nice point-farming spree. They must all be sitting on a few thousand each, yeah?" Gomorah nodded. "It should be enough. Worst-case, we help a little. It''s not a big deal." "Well, it''s a big deal if we don''t finish before sundown. I want to have supper with Lucy tonight." Gomorrah shook her head. "You need to set priorities." "I... have? Lucy, then all the rest. It ain''t rocket science." *** Chapter Eleven - A Teachable Moment Chapter Eleven - A Teachable Moment "Everyone has to start somewhere. Even samurai aren''t ready to go all-out from the start. Well, except for me. I was ready. Actually, more people should be ready for more things. If you''re going to be a samurai, the least you could do is not be lazy about it." --Live Interview with Deus Ex on the Saturday Morning Show, 2056 *** It started with explosions, which I was reliably certain was always a good way to start something. Since Gomorrah and I weren''t gonna be in the thick of it unless the newbies fucked up royally, I mostly decided to stand back a ways and watch. That didn''t mean I wasn''t gonna help. I didn''t feel like sitting here for hours, in a high-risk environment, without getting some sort of reward out of it. Mostly I was aiming at some of the smaller models on the periphery and limiting myself to using my gun to tag them. It was live aim practice. The newbies had come up with a plan. Well, no, it was more that Hedgehog came up with a plan, and the others didn''t have a better idea. They poked at it a little, added some touches of their own, but that was about it. He was kind of carrying the show during the pre-fight stage, and I figured that was probably alright. This wasn''t about forcing the newbies to get good at stuff that wasn''t in their... domain. It was more about giving them a chance to play to their strengths. Hedgehog''s big strength came from a few years of experience in the field, probably lots of training, and a heap of knowledge he''d picked up through his job. So his strengths were actually pretty fucking strong. Sure, he was a little weird for a samurai, all stiff and shit, but he was still good. Gomorrah and I had listened in on the planning phase, of course, just in case they came up with something too stupid. It wasn''t. "Alright," Hedgehog said. "That''ll catch their attention. Be ready. Eyes on your sectors. Keep your ears open." "Got it!" Princess said. We were all atop a small hill with a sharp embankment on the side. Below was the remains of that poisoned forest. Fallen trees and dead vegetation for a hundred metres. And also a large smoking crater now. Tankette had been the one to start the explosions by firing some sort of HE round into the ground some ways ahead. It had taken a good ten seconds to go off. There were still clumps of dirt coming down from above, and the pillar of kicked up dust was still settling. "I thought we weren''t supposed to bomb the place?" I asked Gomorrah who was standing nearby. I wondered if she was miffed. I could plink away at the odd model one or three, but her gear was a little more... up close and personal. "I think one distractionary explosion shouldn''t be that big of a deal," Gomorrah said. That had been the crux of the plan. A big, loud boom to let the hive and all the little plant babies around it know that we were right here and a threat. The aliens reacted pretty predictably. There was some scuffling, then little black forms started to run across the fallen forest. Model threes leapt from trunk to trunk, smaller ones ran beneath where there was space, and a whole flock of flying models took to the sky. "Tankette, do you have anti-air?" Hedgehog called back. "Oh, um, I do!" Tankette said. She was, of course, in her little tank. There was a hatch open on the top, and if she stretched back, the top half of Tankette''s head could poke out of it. The turret turned, there was a light clunking noise, then Tankette ducked back down. She had insisted that everyone wear hearing protection before she started firing. Gomorrah and I had that stuff built into our helmets, Hedgehog was wearing the kind of headphones I saw soldiers wearing all the time, which left Knight and Princess and Crackshot to figure shit out. Princess was wearing a pair of almost comically oversized headphones now. They were furry, with sparkly little diamonds on the band that made it look like a small tiara. Crackshot had some funky earrings that were supposed to be good enough. They were shaped like little fangs. I supposed that fit with the image more than bigger hearing protection, but I bet he paid a premium for it. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Knight got herself a new helmet. It was a slight departure from her previous one, which was... apparently just a normal-ass metal helmet. A comfortable one, she said, but pretty normal. Her new helmet was a curved block of naked steel with a thin slit over her eyes. I wasn''t even sure how the visor tilted up. The visor, of course, glowed red, because it wouldn''t be cool if it didn''t. She looked pretty pleased with her upgrade. I still wasn''t sold on the way Princess and Knight were splitting their point income, but whatever. Princess had switched out her piddly little handgun for a long shotgun with wooden furniture. I snapped back to attention as Tankette opened up. Her tank could fire a round every half second or so when she wanted, which wasn''t subtle. The constant thump-thump-thump and trembling of the ground was accompanied by an echo as whatever she fired exploded in the air a few hundred metres away. They burst into large black balls of shrapnel that shredded through entire flocks of model ones. "Maybe instead of going for bombs and stealth I should have just gone straight for tanks," I muttered. "There are some pretty big downsides," Gomorrah said. "Just like the Fury, she can''t deploy her tank indoors." "Not with that attitude," I said. "A few shots like that and I think you can turn indoors into more outdoors, you know?" Gomorrah chuckled. "I suppose." "Open fire!" Hedgehog said. "Focus the larger models. Crackshot, keep an eye out near the hive for direct counters." "Aye-aye, Hedge," Crackshot said. He grunted as he went to a knee, then laid himself down on the ground atop a coarse blanket he''d laid down. He aimed down-scope and started to plug away at the incoming horde. The others fired out as well. Hedgehog had a... actually, I wasn''t sure if it was an SMG or an assault rifle. It was thick and bulky, and looked like it could be used as a makeshift brick if something came too close and Hedgehog was feeling particularly violent. Princess unloaded with her new shotgun, the recoil pushing her back with every shot, and Knight fired short bursts from that rifle she''d liberated from the army earlier. It wasn''t an overwhelming amount of firepower by any means. I was pretty sure my mech alone could put more rounds downrange than the entire newbie squad, but it didn''t matter. They were punching holes into the alien''s growing formation, and their initial distraction was working. The aliens were still following the first group that had run towards the crater that Tankette''s HE round had created. "Oh, look, a few are coming around," I said as I raised my Laser Pointer to my shoulder and sprayed a few bursts down the slight incline leading up to where we were. "How much are we supposed to help here?" Gomorrah asked. "Gom, we''re the ones that decided to do this. We can help as much or as little as we want," I said. "Why, getting nervous for the newbies?" Gomorrah shook her head slowly. "Not nervous. They''ll succeed. But Hedgehog''s plan is too... conservative." "Oh?" I asked. "Sitting back from a position of strength and taking out the antithesis as they come is a very military-minded approach," she said. "It doesn''t work in the long term. The hive will start sending out different kinds of models to test things, and with all of those model twenty-twos around, eventually it''ll find something that works." "Right, don''t get into a war of attrition with the ever expanding aliens," I said with a nod. "Exactly. If they just stand on this hill, they''ll just get overwhelmed eventually. Or maybe they''ll keep the hive''s numbers down, but that will only last as long as they can keep focused on keeping it down. There''s no such thing as culling an antithesis hive." I nodded along, then glanced over to the newbies. "So... do we tell them?" Gomorrah shrugged. "I''m considering it. Let them mess up for a little longer, I suppose. It''s free points for them, and we can always burn this area down if they take too long." "Ah yes, the ''burn them all and let god sort them out'' solution," I said with a sage nod. "That''s always a solid plan B." *** A Tale of Nice Tails A Tale of Nice Tails Yuren Jie stood before the temple''s gates with a heart full of pride. At long last, he had made it to the top of Beast Mountain. The great jade gates of the entrance stood with the majesty of the heavens themselves. A great stairway of stone awaited him beyond it, alongside great buildings as old as time itself. This. This was where Yuren would complete his formation and ascend to greatness. Yuren Jie wasn''t special among would-be cultivators. He was simply young, handsome, incredibly talented, phenomenally lucky¨Chard work was for those who weren''t born winners, after all¨Cand most importantly of all, about as modest as a peacock on a strut. He was a magnet for beautiful women, though of course, he remained above the influence. Girls led to romance, romance led drama, and drama led to work. And real work was beneath Yuren, like the earth crawled beneath the sky. No other sect was worthy of being graced with his immense talent. The Golden Order Sect had produced the greatest and most powerful cultivators in all of the Thousand Story Realms. He would soon put them all to shame. And so, it was with great pride that he stepped inside the temple. He immediately sensed a warm power flow over him like water on a smooth rock; an energy filling his body with serenity and energy. It was as if all his exhaustion and doubts vanished in an instant. He found himself entering a courtyard of well-tended grass and lotus flower ponds. A haven of peace¡ were it not for its occupants. A bunch of disheveled men crawled on the ground with the grace of maggots. "She just won''t stop firing at us¡" a man rasped, his clothes full of holes and his eyes beset with fear. "Every day¡" "I can''t¡" Another replied, while clearly in a fugue state of some kind. "Get back here, minion¡ get back here¡" Losers, Yuren thought. He knew cultivation wasn''t for everyone. Few possessed the willpower to claim their rightful place at the world''s apex. He didn''t look down on these failures, not really. They were just beneath his notice. Thankfully, Yuren soon noticed an elder meditating near a pond; a great and powerful cultivator with a long white beard, plain silk robes, and wizened skin. The man turned his head at Yuren with eyes full of wisdom. "Who are you?" he asked, his words carrying the weight of a mountain. "I am Yuren Jie, aspiring master under the heavens," Yuren introduced himself. "I have come to join the Golden Order Sect, greatest in the Thousand Story Realms." "You are in the wrong place," the sage replied before returning to his meditation. "Get lost." The casual, sudden dismissal filled Yuren''s heart with anger and incomprehension. "Isn''t this Beast Mountain?" he protested in disbelief. "Then you should be in the Golden Order Sect!" "No, we are the Golden Hoarder Sect now. With an H and an A. We used to be the Golden Order, but Dragon Sifu-Sensei insisted on the name change." The sage shuddered. "Arguing with Dragon Sifu-Sensei leads us further away from enlightenment and closer to ignorance, so we accepted his wisdom with pain and humility." "Your sect''s name does not matter to me, only its power," Yuren declared. How dare that old geezer not recognize his limitless potential? "I have to come to train and take my rightful place among the Immortals." "To join our Sect is to experience great suffering," the elder replied without looking at Yuren. "You know not what one must endure to ascend." "I''m not afraid of anything, old man," Yuren insisted. "I will pass any test I must." This time, the elder deigned to look at him again. But his eyes¡ His eyes were devoid of anger and pride. Instead they radiated compassion. A deep sense of pity, the kind one reserved to cancer patients or the most miserable of all creatures. It took Yuren completely aback. "W-why do you look at me with such pitiful eyes?" The elder shook his head with a deep sigh and a quiet look of resignation. He rose to his feet and then agreed to Yuren''s request. "Very well," he said. "Dragon Sifu-Sensei will see to your initiation and put you through the Test of the Mind." A dragon? So the rumors were true, the Golden Ord¨CHoarder Sect included a true dragon among its elders. Yuren nodded sharply, and then followed the elder deeper into the temple. The noise of explosions coming from nearby courtyards rocked the structure, but Yuren paid more attention to the strange energy pervading the air. Was that a spell of some kind? "You are now under the influence of Fairy Elaine''s healing power," the Elder explained upon noticing his curiosity. "It shall heal your wounds, even the searing flames of Dragon Sifu-Sensei''s divine breath." Yuren had been begging to ask something. "Sifu-Sensei? Aren''t they the same thing?" "You are not to question Dragon Sifu-Sensei''s logic," the elder replied with the wisdom of the eon-old turtle. "You will hurt yourself and your wounded spirit will crawl away from enlightenment." "You didn''t answer my question." "There is no answer, only acceptance." That made no sense, but Yuren didn''t have time to wonder for long. The elder soon led him down great stairs wide enough for an army to climb and before great closed gates of gold dug into the very heart of the mountain. It would take two giants to open them. "Dragon Sifu-Sensei awaits beyond these doors," said the elder. "I must warn you that only the strongest of will can endure what awaits you." "Then I''m overqualified," Yuren replied. Once again, the elder sent him a gaze full of pity and compassion. It started to wear on Yuren''s nerves. "Are you looking down on me, old man?" The elder shook his head. With no more time to waste on this senile old fool, Yuren approached the golden doors and waited for them to open. They didn''t. He stood in place for five minutes, waiting for the gates to bow before his majesty, before noticing a smaller backdoor dug into the stone. He grumbled as he walked through it. What awaited him on the other side nearly left him blinded. Never before had he seen such a wealth of treasures gathered in a single place. A vault larger than an entire town stretched far and wide before his eyes. An ocean of gold glittering like the sun filled each and every corner under the weight of marble pillars. And atop its greatest hill stood a dragon. A great and mighty beast with crimson ruby scales, jet black wings, and claws longer and sharper than any spear. The beast''s fangs alone matched all of Yuren in length. The creature raised its immense and wise head upon sensing his approach, then looked at his visitor with eyes of shining gold. Yuren immediately realized that something was wrong. This looked like a dragon, felt like a dragon, but it wasn''t a Long. It had no fur, no deer horns, no mustache. Was it a rare form Yuren had never heard of? "Who dares interrupt my slumber?" asked the dragon, his voice stronger than a thunderstorm, his words heavy with the force of a hurricane. "I do, oh great dragon sifu-sensei," Yuren replied upon bending the knee. "I am¨C" "Insignifiant!" the dragon interrupted him with a grunt. "Call me Dragon Sifu-Sensei, if you wish to live." "I¡" Yuren frowned in utter confusion. Had he offended the dragon somehow? "I just did." "You will call me Dragon Sifu-Sensei, capitalized. I can tell the difference." The great dragon narrowed his eyes at Yuren, his tail sending waves of coins falling down his throne of treasures. "Are you a thief? I hope so. I haven''t had breakfast yet." "Far from it, Dragon Sifu-Sensei." How did he¡ The letters felt right, but he couldn''t explain why. "I have come to study with the Golden Hoarder Sect." "Ah, excellent." The dragon suddenly sounded pleased. He raised his mighty head and swaggered, his chest full of pride. "Then know that I, Vainqueur Knightsbane, First under the Heavens, Great Buddha of this Age, Master of the Golden Hoarder Path, and King of Beast Mountain, shall gladly accept your fee!" Yuren squinted in confusion. "The fee?" The dragon''s happy mood suddenly deflated. Yuren felt his blood run cold as the immense beast looked at him with unbearable suspicions. "Your entrance fee," the great dragon asked, smoke coming out of his nostrils. Yuren had the impression of standing on thin ice. Or in this case, kneeling in front of a very large beast with a gullet of swirling fire. "F-For the sect?" For the first time in his short life, Yuren found himself suddenly beset with dread. "There is an entrance fee?" "Of course there is one! Do you think this place is a home for homeless cultivators?" The dragon rubbed his claws together. "You must pay the low, low price of ten thousand gold to join my sect." The price was so outrageous that Yuren forgot to be afraid. "Ten thousand? You can buy half a kingdom with that!" "I do not like your tone, miserly poor disciple." The dragon snorted fumes and raised his head so high it nearly hit the ceiling. "Did you expect the secrets of the universe to come cheap? That I, the greatest immortal under the heavens, would teach you the way of the Dragon Dao for free?" "But¨C" "I am a dragon," Vainqueur interrupted him sharply. "Your kind named its best techniques after me. Which one sounds better, Immortal Dragon Fist or Puny Ape Slap?" Yuren opened his mouth to answer, but what could he say before such ironclad logic? The weight of his insignificance suddenly dawned upon him when faced with a creature large enough to swallow him in one bite. "Come to think of it, I should charge you for cultural appropriation too," Vainqueur muttered to himself. "Your species'' debt towards me keeps increasing." "I, uh¡" Yuren gulped. The realization of his own poverty suffocated him. "I do not have¡ ten thousand gold¡" The dragon looked at him as if were lesser than a cockroach. It reminded Yuren of how he used to look on others, but magnified ten thousand times over. Like a noble king glaring at a pile of horse shit waiting to be squashed. "Are these clothes all that you have?" he asked with a dangerous edge to his voice. Yuren gulped and then nodded. "Give me your shirt," the dragon said. "Give it to me. Give it to me now." Yuren was too intimidated, too ashamed, to resist. He threw his shirt at the dragon''s hoard, keeping only his pants. "Your debt has decreased to nine-thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand gold and nine silver," the dragon declared with ludicrous precision. "To reward your dedication and humility, I shall accept you as an Emergency Food Disciple." Yuren didn''t like that title at all. "Why emergency?" "Because everyone outside the sect is just food," the dragon replied kindly. Yuren wisely didn''t push the subject further. "Emergency Food Disciple is the lowest rank in my Golden Hoarder sect. Then you have Minion Disciple, Minion Master, Princess, Virgin Princess, Catering Gourmet, and then Chief of Staff. And then there is me, Dragon Sifu-Sensei. Do you understand your place?" Yuren opened his mouth to argue, when he suddenly noticed piles of ashes in a corner of the vault. Somehow, he had the intuition that they didn''t start out as firewood. "I¡ I do, Dragon Sifu-Sensei." "Good," Vainqueur replied. "Henceforth, you shall work for this sect for free until you repay your entrance fee. It should only take you five hundred years or so, factoring in the interests and the first class lodging accommodations." "Five hundred years?" Yuren choked. "But I won''t live that long!" The dragon looked at Yuren with condescension. The young disciple suddenly remembered the entire reason why he even came to this place; and why it suddenly didn''t appear like a good thing anymore. "Why do you think," Vainqueur asked, "We dragons taught you humans how to become immortal?" Yuren''s heart skipped a beat in his chest, his soul suddenly assaulted by the primal terror of the modern man. The ultimate technique which had brought countless aspiring masters low. The Student Loan Debt Trap. "We taught you immortality so you can work longer hours and make us richer. Time is money, and right now, you are wasting mine." Vainqueur dismissively waved a claw at Yuren. "Return rich or not at all." Yuren found himself walking back to the exit before he realized what was happening. His mind, his pride, screamed at him to make a stand, but whenever he tried to straighten his spine, it crumbled back under the weight of his defeat. "Loafer," he heard the dragon complaining behind his back. "Another one who lives in his mother''s cave." Yuren closed the backdoor behind him, and found the Elder waiting for him. He looked surprised to see the disciple alive at all. "What just happened?" Yuren muttered to himself, his brain scrambled. He tried to find an explanation for this meeting and found none. None of this made sense. "Dragon Sifu-Sensei was brought in as a treasurer, to better protect the sect''s funds from thieves," the Elder explained. "Dragon Sifu-Sensei is so good at his job that he keeps the gold safe from us too. He only lends us one-one tenth of what we ask for." "One one tenth?" Yuren Jie did a quick calculation in his head. "Like a tenth of a tenth?" "Hence why we ask for ten times of what we need each time." "But that''s still a tenth!" Yuren protested. "Dragon Sifu-Sensei is bad at math, but you?" The elder looked into his eyes. "You will be worse." A terrible pain raced through Yuren''s skull, raw and sharp. Blood dripped down his nose and inside his lips. Then he sensed Fairy Elaine''s magic healing his head from whatever wound he suffered through. "What is this?" Yuren asked upon touching his blood. "What is this?" "You went through a brain aneurysm," the elder explained. "By surviving a meeting with Dragon Sifu-Sensei, you have taken your first step towards enlightenment. Next is the Test of the Body." A chill traveled down Yuren''s spine. Ascending to the heavens might prove a little harder than expected. Yuren Jie walked the many peaks of the Golden Hoarder monastery, wondering what in all realms he had gotten himself into. There were many manners of sects under heaven, from righteous to demonic, but none with a foreign dragon extorting new prospects. And that was but the first in a long series of surprises. Elders who ought to be overseeing mortal affairs, nodding gravely over cups of tea, ran around in a frenzy to pursue strange and outlandish philosophies. "The fist of utilitarianism must be wielded for the happiness of the many, not the great happiness of the one!" "That is not the nature of a cultivator!" Masters and disciples wore uniforms in a wide variety of styles and colors. Students fought on the streets, exchanging insults and yet, none of them ever spat blood! It was as if some strange aura prevented them from being hurt internally and externally. In this place, one could lose nothing but their face. It was baffling. It was chaos. The architecture as well defied the imagination. Most pavilions showed the harmony and beauty of the Thousand Story Realms, yet here and there, foreign contraptions ruined the effect like zits on the face of a jade-like beauty. The test of the Body was to take place in the next peak, and when his eyes rested upon its massive flanks, Yuren Jie''s stomach dropped. Chimneys belched black smoke to the skies while the din of metal on metal strained the ears. As he walked across a long bridge, he was joined by other prospective students. He knew they were like him because the men were shirtless, the women sleeveless, and all of them looked as if their birth village had been burned down by a callous young master they would spend seventy-three chapters tracking down. They exchanged confused looks but not much else. Their path led them to a wide, open platform facing the maze of steel and heat that could only be the Armory, a great beast that breathed dark smoke and glared at them from its myriad of glass windows. Targets and strange, wood platforms filled with stacks of precious ores waited on one side. Racks of training equipment lined the other. Now what? A man exploded out of one of the windows in a shower of crystalline shards. He slammed into the ground with back-breaking strength before coming to a rest at the students'' feet, yet once again, he stood unharmed. A feminine voice rang through the air. It was very loud. "A shield against arrows must be made of composite materials! I won''t give two pills about your fancy water enchantment unless it''s layered on a properly designed base! Have I taught you nothing?" The fallen man jumped to his knee, face lit with the revelation of the dao. "Thank you for your guidance!" he cried, then more quietly, he needled Yuren Jie on. "You had better come in while she is in a good mood, junior brother." Yuren Jie was not so sure, yet the presence of the other students meant he could not refuse or he would risk losing face. He had to show he was a dragon among men, but obviously of the proper variety this time. He opened the gate using the strength of a hundred men. It was a heavy gate. Golden morning light shone on a workshop, and on a woman wearing the strangest cultivator robe he had ever seen. "HISS!" She cowered for a second, leaving Yuren Jie certain he was soon to meet his ancestors. Instead, she smoothed that impractical garment of hers. "Sorry, habit. Ah, yes, I recognize in you the fish-eyed and shirtless appearance of¡" She sniffed the air. Her sky-blue eyes narrowed. "Fresh blood. ''Tis time again, it seems. Oh well. I will be with you shortly." As she turned to one of her assistants, Yuren Jie studied her appearance even more. She was certainly a laowai from faraway, with golden hair and that strange¡ dress¡ of hers. There was something uncanny about her. Her canines were too sharp. Her fingers ended in black talons, short yet sharp. Perhaps some beast blood ancestry. "The alloy we want is nine part mountain steel and no less than one part vanadium, manganese, and copper. I don''t care if it is not ''the way''. If you don''t follow my orders, I will not eat you, I will shove an incandescent bar up your buttocks the size of the average machine-translated Xianxia novel, and you know it will not kill you. Not here." The apprentice bowed. The woman returned her attention to them. "To the Test of the Body, and then we will give you your uniforms." She stepped outside, as did all of the other prospective students in various states of confusion. "Right," she said. "Let us clear things up. My name is Fairy Thread Seeker and the first thing that will come out of your filthy impurity pools will be ma''am. Do you silk worms understand that?" Yuren Jie gasped. "WELL?" "Ma''am, yes," a few students replied with terror. "I can''t hear you, sound off like you got a core!" "Ma''am, yes!" "That''s better. If you disgusting spawn survive my training, if you find your dao, you will be a shining and tasty example of mankind, leading the world forward with an understanding of war, crafts, ethics, and safe forklift operation. But until that day, you are nothing! You are lice crawling on the ass crack of destiny. Frogs at the bottom of the well. You are lower than the dirt. You are not even cultivators. You are amorphous accretions of baseless audacity. Because I do not give face, you will not like me, but the more you despise me, the higher you shall soar. I am difficult but fair. There is no discrimination on blood here. I don''t care if you are jade like beauties, body cultivators, toad cultivators, three ravens in a trench coat, or if your ancestor fucked a dragon once. You are all equally pathetic. And my goal is to turn your arrogant mediocrity into the exacting perfection of a Golden Hoarder member." The woman waited to see if anyone would object. Yuren Jie could not sense her cultivation, but she had to be at least at the navel-gazing realm to become a Peak Master. As a man gifted with the rare talent of common sense, he knew better than to challenge her. By some miracle, none of the students dared protest. "No one to perform involuntary qigong this time? Amazing. First thing first then, in order to better understand who you are, you will be allowed to attack me so that I may taste your mettle." Someone raised a hand. The woman nodded. "Ma''am, do you mean test our mettle?" "I said what I said. Enough barking at the moon or whatever. Face me, get your uniforms, then your next stop will be the medical pavilion." Fear spread across the ranks. "No, I will not maim you. You are going there to receive medicine and advice on how to practice safe sects. It is your duty to remain cautious, for the Thousand Story Realms are a dangerous and nonsensical place ruled by maniacs, as you all well know. What? What''s that look?" "Ma''am, it''s nothing," a disciple grumbled. "I thought as much. Since you cannot school your expression, you''re the first to be schooled. Get up here and show me what you can do." The woman appeared on one of the elevated platforms. A flick of her fingers, and the nearby targets disappeared, leaving the space bare. "Get on with it." Yuren Jie quickly realized that although his skill was supreme, he was not yet peerless. Students faced the woman one after the other and she somehow matched their skill and even style perfectly to push them to their limits without humiliating them. Her guidance left many disciples in awe. "How about screaming the name of your technique after you''ve used it? Or even while you cast it, but not, maybe, before?" "Please do not monologue at me. I am impervious to such low-level sass. Focus on the fight." "If you tell me that this pill will unleash your true power, I''m going to try to stop you from eating it, you know?" Truly extraordinary revelations. After fighting the disciples and giving them advice, the woman would provide them with a matching uniform that would best match their budding dao. "You smell of water and metal. This should serve you well." She handed one of the disciples a salmon-colored robe embroidered with the image of a mighty fish jumping up a waterfall. It was exquisitely made. "Pink? You want me to wear pink?" "You also smell like my lunch." "I am honored by your gift, esteemed elder." "That''s better." And soon, it was Yuren Jie''s turn. As a genius that happened only once in a generation among an arbitrarily selected population number, Yuren Jie wanted to show that he was not to be underestimated, although he often was for some reason. Indeed, he may have been the child of a beautiful seamstress who died of unidentified wasting disease and a mysterious man who left him nothing but a ring bearing the sigil of the ruling bloodline of the phoenix empire, a demonly heavenly manual of techniques that only work with children of the imperial bloodline of the phoenix empire, and also a dagger that could only be wielded by the heir of the phoenix empire, and him for some reason, but he was certain he was destined for greatness. He couldn''t stumble across hidden inheritances every three chapters if fate didn''t recognize in him the seeds of a sage to equal the heavens. He prepared his first technique, a forbidden special skill that killed most users after three attempts, except for him because he was just that talented. He raised his fist. The rays of the sun gathered in an ethereal dance like fireflies upon ¡ª "Another protagonist. Ugh, I hate protagonists," the woman complained. She extended her hand, then seemed to reconsider. "Plot twist!" she roared. Yuren Jie looked behind him, but there was nothing! Instead, he was punched from the front. When Yuren Jie came back to his senses, he was standing at the edge of the platform again. "Right, looks like it''s everyone. As I said before, your next step is the medical pavilion, over there." She pointed at a distant mountain. "And since you are now properly dressed, you might as well get some practice out of it. Remember: there is an aura around here that heals you¡ which means¡" Yuren Jie turned to see the Fairy Thread Seeker wielding a long, metal weapon with a tube at the end. "It means that even when I hurt you, you heal. So every minute from now on, I will shoot the slowest runner. Better start running now." *** Yuren Jie was not hiding, for he was not a coward. He had merely... tactically relocated himself to a location where the bloodthirsty mistress of the forge wouldn''t immediately see him. Yes, this was wise. Yuren Jie was certain that arriving at the Golden Hoarder Sect would teach him many lessons, and he was correct. For example, he was learning the wisdom of discretion already. He was not so unwise as to not take this lesson to heart. The medical pavilion still awaited, but it was atop a peak near the centre of the sect''s great holdings. The other new disciples had taken the straight path, across bridges and over ravines, the mad cackles... polite tittering of the forge mistress behind them. Yuren Jie had chosen a less direct path. Perhaps it would be somewhat slower, but only if he didn''t move with great alacrity. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. So he moved quickly... from statue to statue and from large stone to large stone, constantly on the lookout for a bloody, hungry smile from the shadows. He froze when he saw motion, but it was just a small cat who stared at him with about as much passion as one could expect from a cat. It seemed to sneer before sauntering off. He wondered if even the wildlife here was... peculiar. After some distance was made, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. it seemed as though he would make it in due time with no great risk to himself. This, too, was wisdom. Truly this sect was the greatest if it could impart such wisdom so easily and clearly. "Why''re you sneaking around?" Yuren Jie started and spun to find... no one. He looked left and right, then cast his senses both upwards and down, but he felt no presence. Had the stress upon his core caused a deviation in his mind? Turning, he started again as he discovered a woman sitting upon a statue on the path ahead of him. She was clad in strange garments, clothes that were tight against her body, and a large flowing coat like a robe cut down the front. More interesting were her ears. The ears of a cat sat atop her head, perked forwards at attention even as the woman smiled cockily. Truly, she lacked the aura of a jade beauty, and instead felt like a cocksure, cockless, young master. "Who are you?" he asked, his guard rising. Was this an older disciple of the sect? The girl grinned, displaying slightly crookedy teeth. "I''m just a stray," she said. "What are you doing, sneaking around my neck of the woods?" "This... is not a forest?" Yuren Jie said with a gesture to the area around them. This was one of the lower peaks, a flattened mount with several paths cut into its sides. There were archways here and there, and a few small garden pavilions with fantastic views of the ravines between the peaks. He could well imagine an elder cultivator sitting here and enjoying some ten billion year old ginseng. The young woman blinked, then stared off into space. "You know, he''s right, this isn''t a woods, so that saying doesn''t make sense." She nodded. Then frowned. "I guess it could be some language drift stuff," she continued to speak. He was quite certain she wasn''t speaking to him, and was equally certain that she wasn''t quite sane. "I will just be on my way, then," he said. "Hey now, no strutting off on my turf," Stray said, her attention snapping back onto him. "Where are you heading off too, anyway?" "If you must know, the medical pavilion." Her eyes widened a fraction, as did her smile. "Oh, you''re a newbie!" she gushed. "Fresh blood! A little baby cultivator!" Yuren Jie tensed, then glared. "I am Yuren Jie, and I will reach the heavens, defy them, and surpass them to become even greater!" The woman snorted. "You don''t look like you could handle a fight against a scarecrow," she said. "You''re all thin, no muscles. No brains either. And where''s your gear? Are you gonna reach the heavens with those pretty-boy robes? Flash the entire realm while you''re up there?" Yuren Jie stood straighter. "What is this juvenile taunting?" "I''m not juvenile. You''re juvenile," she said. Then she stuck her tongue out at him. Yuren Jie spun on a heel and walked onwards. He was leaving this place and this discussion. He knew not where this woman had come from, but he wouldn''t have minded if she crawled back to that place. As he came around a bend, he felt his heart constrict at the sight. There was another statue of a large cat, and atop it, the woman was lounging, one leg bouncing casually. She was eating grapes from a small bowl. "Okay, so I might have been somewhat immature," she admitted. "Tell me this, uh... Yuren Jie? Weird name. Anyway, tell me this; if you want to be so strong, why don''t you let me take you on a little detour?" "I will not follow you, strange woman," he said. Was this a test? A punishment for deviating from the straight path to the medical pavilion? "You''ll get treasures and new weapons and all sorts of neat rewards," she said temptingly. Yuren Jie stood taller. "Treasures?" he asked. "Who are you, exactly?" The woman grinned the kind of smile he''d only seen on cats who discovered a saucerful of cream. "I''m the Golden Hoarder Sect''s quartermaster. You need a Heavenly Spear-Throwing Earth-Shattering Bursting Demonic Pillar Emitter to fuck up some local dragon and I hand you an ICBM." He didn''t know what either of those were, but the first sounded fearsome and powerful, the kind of legendary weapon oft associated with the Golden Hoard Sect. Was she truly the sect''s quartermaster? If so, it would do him well to make her acquaintance. He eyed her for a moment. Her clothes were strange, but of fine make, and while he couldn''t discern the use of the items she carried, they seemed to be of exquisite craftsmanship. They also had small images carved onto them, of cats frolicking and staring and licking themselves. On reflection, many of the stories of the sect''s greatest warriors often mentioned that their swords of Rending Earth and their Heavenly Iron Arrow Hurlers had cat-like symbols upon them. Perhaps this woman truly was the sect''s quartermaster. He bowed. "What favours can I accomplish for you, Lady Quartermaster." The lady smiled. "A quest, then! Hmm... there''s a shop on the far end of the sect. It''s just past the western gate. There you will find a woman who makes sweetcakes and sells artisanal teas." Yuren Jie nodded along. Was this the fabled fetch-quest? "I want you to go there, tip over her tea pots, and burn her cakes." "Pardon?" he asked. "Sabotage," she clarified. "Sabotage her shop. Don''t kill her or anything, you know, just ruin her afternoon." "Has this woman threatened the Golden Hoarder Sect?" he asked. The lady quartermaster looked away, not meeting his eyes. "In a manner of speaking." "That is not as clear of an answer as I expected," he said. Not that he minded too much. If the sect needed him to scythe through ten million innocent civilians to prove himself, then that would be a small price to pay. "Though I am curious as to her capabilities." There had to be something more here." Stray Cat cleared her throat. "She gave my girlfriend a free sweetcake the other day." "Pardon?" "That''s basically flirting, you know?" she said. "You wish for me to punish a mortal because she has laid eyes upon your girl?" he asked. "She didn''t just lay eyes. Laying eyes is fine. My girl is the prettiest girl under heaven, so I can''t blame either mortal or immortal for wanting to look. She gave my girl sweetcakes. That''s crossing a line! Only I''m allowed to give her cake!" Yuren Jie looked at her and took a moment to process what he was hearing. It was petty. It was petty and jealous. But it was also a task. One that would surely test his skills. "I accept, lady quartermaster," he said with a low bow of respect. "Cool," she said. He wasn''t sure what the weather had to do with anything, but he chose not to question her. "By the way, you''re Yuren Jie, right?" "Yes?" "Oh, yeah, you''re supposed to be at the medical pavilion. Like, right now. I''m pretty sure if you don''t show up soon, Fairy Elaine''s gonna be pissed, and between her and a live nuke, I''d rather piss off the nuke, you know what I''m saying?" Yuren Jie glanced down the path, then bowed quickly before darting along. He couldn''t afford to be late! Once he was done with this medical examination, he would begin upon this quest. It would be one of the first steps towards gaining what he needed to defy the heavens! ========== ~Selkie''s part because I''m just too impatient~ Yuren hurried onto the Medical Pavilion. The sharp crack from Fairy Thread Seeker''s weapon as she fired upon the slowest members of the entrance class, along with the occasional hair-raising cackle let him know that, in spite of his side quest, he was not so utterly late to the lecture on safe sects. Why they needed such a thing, Yuren didn''t know. And yet, was that not the point of attending the Golden Hoard Sect? To receive wisdom from his elders? Truly, it was the only way this once-in-a-generation genius would ascend past the heavens. He would remember his stepping stones fondly once he''d arrived. For now, it was time for wisdom. Yuren could not claim to be the first in the lecture hall, and yet, he did not have the ignominy of being the last. He managed to slip in past a few fellow disciplines, rubbing their buttocks and complaining about Fairy Thread Seeker''s methods. He wanted to snort disdainfully at them. Weak. A basic trial, and they were complaining about mere pain? He had seen the truth - Fairy Elaine''s powers healed all injuries as they occurred. What was a little bit of pain on the bitter path of cultivation? Yuren entered the grand lecture hall, the inside distorted to thousands of miles large, likely by some fantasy author with no proper sense of scale, and where the words ''structural integrity'' and ''loadbearing'' were simple suggestions. The seats at the front were all taken by the over-eager, as were the seats at the back by the lazy. Yuren rolled his eyes at the painfully transparent ploys, and sat in the middle. A beautiful cultivator took to the stage, with hair the color of soft hazel and blue eyes that twinkled with stars deep inside. Yurne rubbed his eyes and looked again. There really were stars deep inside the cultivator''s phoenix eyes, and he straightened up as the petite woman began to speak. "I''m Fairy Elaine. As part of the orientation to the Golden Hoarder Sect, we will be discussing Safe Sects practices." There were titters around the room, and some of the men gazed lustfully at the jade beauties that were scattered throughout the room. Yuren wasn''t thinking too highly of his peers. While they chased the unobtainable flowers, he studied the blade. Seeking attachments was a distraction from cultivation and the Dao. "First! Before two Sects do battle with each other, it is important that both Sects understand that they are going to do battle." Yuren''s eyebrows scrunched up as he tried to divine the wisdom inside. He struggled - didn''t that completely remove sneak attacks and thefts? Then again, the Golden Hoard Sect was considered one of the most noble, virtuous, upstanding, dignified, honorable, gallant, respectable, principled, esteemed, righteous, valiant, stalwart, and gracious sects around. Maybe this was just one of their rules. "Second! Demonic cultivators can be hidden within the ranks of a sect. It is impossible to know where they are, and which sects have hidden members within their ranks, and which ones are clean. When doing battle, it is best to always protect one''s sect from demonic cultivators trying to infiltrate." Shouldn''t there be a lecture about how to identify demonic cultivators, and prevent infiltration? Perhaps that was a later, more advanced lecture. "Third! Know I wanted this to be first, but was overruled. A sect should never ever, under any circumstances, do battle with a thousand year old vampire, or similar. Don''t do it. No." Would a vampire at a mere seven hundred years be acceptable? Or was that too similar? Yuren dutifully wrote down a note to ask later. Fairy Elaine continued her lecture, dropping morsels of wisdom such as ''don''t flash your sword carelessly'', ''it''s perfectly acceptable to battle the Chrysanthemum sect with proper preparation'', and a long segment about ''cultivation realm and level matters. Don''t do battle outside your realm, I might not be able to put you back together.'' Yuren scoffed at that. He was a genius whose battle prowess could cross realms! But why was she saying ''battle'' so strangely, and why was half the lecture hall laughing and blushing? "The last part of this lecture before we break out the bananas! It is well known that Sword and Spear sects enjoy battling Flower and Gourd sects. However! It is perfectly acceptable for a Sword Sect to battle a Spear Sect, just as it is acceptable for a Flower sect to battle a Gourd sect." Yuren was convinced by now the others in the lecture hall were idiots. The most basic of revelations - a Sword Sect battling another Sword Sect? How obvious! - was causing an uproar. A dozen disciplines spat blood in outrage. Three near Yuren suffered Qi deviation, their faces going purple as they clutched at their chest. Down near the front, such basic words had caused a revelation in a fellow disciple, the man instantly jumping three realms as the enlightenment raised his cultivation. Yuren nodded to himself. Truly, he was a once-in-a-millennium genius. =========== Yuren hurried after Cat - Lady Quartermaster - unsure quite how he''d ended up following her, of all people. Perhaps it was the reasonable amount of martial might - Fairy Elaine didn''t seem to have any, Fairy Thread Seeker was too liberal in her application of violence, and sifu-sen- Sifu-Sensei, Yuren mentally corrected himself, suddenly paranoid that the dragon could read minds and the Lack of Capitalization inside of them - hurt his brain and caused nosebleeds every time he got near him. Perhaps that was why the Catering Hall had the most powerful disciples. Or maybe he followed the Lady Quartermaster simply because of the promise of treasures, new weapons, and neat rewards that had actually been delivered on. He wasn''t quite sure how a Gre Nade worked, but the impact it had in practice had been¡ satisfying. Truly, the Golden Hoarder Sect had earned their reputation. They skirted around the pigpen, then scooted down one of the Sect''s main roads. "Hey! You!" A commanding voice arrested Yuren''s movements. He froze, like a mouse under the gaze of a hawk, slowly turning his head. Yuren clasped his hands and bowed to Fairy Thread Seeker, who beckoned him over. "Well? Are you just going to stand there all day?" She demanded. Yuren hurried over to see what she wanted, getting handed three jade slips. Peerless cultivation manuals? Indomitable martial techniques? Repositories of forgotten treasures? Endless possibilities flashed through Yuren''s mind. His months of hard work were finally paying off! The heavens were smiling upon him! "Please return these to Fairy Elaine, with my thanks." Fairy Thread Seeker said. "And tell her I think she''ll enjoy the last one. What are you still doing here? Shoo!" Yuren bobbed his head and shot out the door before Fairy Thread Seeker could think to use him for target practice once again. On the empty trail to the Medical Pavilion, Yuren sneaked a look around. There was nobody around, and he couldn''t feel any spiritual presences looking at him. Fortunate favored the bold, and holding three high-level jade slips was a once in a lifetime opportunity. No mention had been made of a reward - perhaps the chance to glean wisdom from the jade slips was his reward, should he be able to comprehend the profound knowledge deep inside without exploding. The best would be a new cultivation technique that would let him get twice the results for half the effort. Without a moment''s hesitation, Yuren plunged his consciousness into the jade slip, plundering its vast and unfathomable knowledge for himself. His nose started to bleed at the deluge of information that slammed through his mind. Titillating moonlight rendezvous and ripped bodices, dark and mysterious men with plucky and bold women. "Junior, you dare? Are you courting death?" A soft voice whispered from behind. Yuren jumped a foot in the air, spat blood, and immediately threw himself into a kowtow. "Please forgive this impudent one''s transgressions!" He shouted out to Fairy Elaine. With a flick of her sleeves, she teleported the jade slips from his hands to her, and lifted an eyebrow at him. Yuren didn''t know if he should laugh or cry. "Fairy Thread Seeker wanted me to return these two to you, and thought you would enjoy the last one!" Fairy Elaine''s face lit up, and she chuckled like a dirty old man. She waved Yuren off. "Don''t go sneaking around. Be off with you, I hear Cat''s looking for you by the Treasure Pavilion." Yuren started to sweat again. The Treasure Pavilion was across the entire sect, and one of the loudest, most boisterous places. Fairy Elaine could hear that far? Yuren found Cat again, and was engaged in the mundanities of the day, when, like thunder from a clear sky, the alarm bells began to ring. The Lady Quartermaster perked up, throwing her paperwork into a corner. "It''s a lobster attack!" She proclaimed, grabbing a key and unlocking the door to where the heavy Ordi Nance was kept. "Lobster?" Yuren asked. Dinner was rebelling? "It was supposed to be ''monster''!" Cat yelled from the depths of the room. "Here, catch!" Yuren caught a heavy, malleable block of unrecognisable substance. He poked it with his finger, seeing how it sank in. "Except there was a typo, and autocorrect turned it into lobster!" Cat continued to explain, throwing more blocks to him. Yuren tried to catch them all, but two fists couldn''t block four hands. Yuren had been learning wisdom, and one key component was to keep his mouth shut when heaven and earth were flipped on him. "Let''s go!" Cat came out with a cart filled with more of the blocky plastics, clearly indicating that he should push. Yuren hurried after the Lady Quartermaster, quickly arriving at the field of battle. The field of battle was all the walls of the sect. Against each one of them, monstrous lobsters the size of horses were attacking with terrible pincers, firing energy blasts from their claws. Nevermind the impossible vast distance between the Sect and the nearest body of water larger than a pond. Experts were as common as clouds, manning the walls and firing their own martial techniques back at the ravenous, never¨Cending hordes. Hoard vs Horde. Yuren flinched as an expert was blown apart, an energy blade destroying his entire chest. A moment later he was restored, whole once again, slapping his now-naked chest and cursing the lobsters. Yuren''s mouth dropped open. He thought Fairy Elaine''s healing was for training, and didn''t have any true capabilities in combat. Truely, he had eyes, but couldn''t see Mt. Tai. "Stop staring, we''ve got a job to do." Cat said. "I''m going deep. I need you to¡" She looked him up and down, appraising him. He got the sense she changed her mind halfway through. "Stand on the wall. When I call, throw me a new set of C4." "Understood." The Lady Quartermaster went invisible, a block vanishing off the top of the pile. Yuren kept his eyes sharp, but from where he stood on the wall, he had an unparalleled view of the battle. It raged back and forth, grand techniques splashing against the hardened shells of the lobsters. Ghostly fists and sword intent flew across the field, grand fireballs exploding on shells while haunting music turned lobster against lobster. The lobsters were winning - should be winning - except the members of the Sect appeared to be invincible. No matter what attack they took, no matter what damage they suffered, they jumped back up a moment later in the picture of perfect health, leaving behind arms, legs, and clothing. When a lobster died, it stayed dead. Cat briefly appeared on the field, and Yuren peerlessly threw two more blocks of C4 at her. She caught them and vanished again, a lobster''s claw snapping where she''d just been. Yuren narrowed his eyes, noting a small piece of the white substance appearing on a lobster''s head. That much was enough to kill one of the tenacious beasts? Where fist and sword fell, that was a killing blow? Impo- Yuren shook his head. He''d resolved not to say or think that word anymore. The sky darkened behind him, and he turned to see what was happening next. An enormous flying ship had launched from the Sect, Fairy Thread Seeker standing on the prow with a tricorn hat, laughing maniacally. "You will rue the day you have run afoul of the Dread Pirate Fairy Thread Seeker, Queen of the arbitrarily high number of seas! Prepare to be tenderized! Servants! Open fire!" The cannons on the ship began to roar, smashing down at impossible speeds. Shell and pincers went flying, and Yuren dodged a large claw, only to get slapped in the face by an antenna. HOW DARE THEY- Yuren took a deep breath. Down that path lay swift death, Fairy Elaine''s healing or not. Cat briefly appeared again, and Yuren tossed her some more explosives. Dragon Sifu-Sensei took to the field next, his immense wingspan casting a great shadow on the world below. The dragon rained down a pyroclastic hell onto the lobsters; and those he didn''t burn, he poked with his mighty claw. His finger alone carried the strength of the heavens. "Minions, get back here!" he roared. "The food has decided to die with honor: by feeding me! Cook them at once!" The elite members of the Catering Hall flew over the wall on oversized spatulas, frying pans, knives, forks, woks, baking sheets, and whisks. Half of them were clicking tongs together menacingly. Eight of them were carrying an oversized cauldron of garlic butter between them. With deadly blows and lethal martial-cooking techniques, the members of the Catering Hall fought their way to Vainqueur, and began cooking. Half of them set up a perimeter, fighting the unending lobster legion, while the other half began slicing, dicing, and cooking. Fried. Boiled. Steamed. Grilled. Baked. Sauteed. Broiled. Poached. Stewed. Smoked, barbecued, pan and deep-fried, acid-cooked and more. Every way there was to prepare food, the elite members of the Catering Hall provided. Dragon Sifu-Sensei, ever the wise and patient Elder, swallowed anything unlucky to be caught within arm''s reach. Cat showed up again, and Yuren tossed her the last of the explosives. A few moments later, she was by his side, touching her throat. Her voice boomed as Yuren clasped his hands over his ears. "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" She yelled, most of the members dropping behind the wall. Yuren might''ve been slow, but he wasn''t quite an idiot, and he threw himself below the ramparts. A cataclysmic explosion ripped through the lobster hordes, launching themselves into the sky like a river dragon ripping itself from the ground. Then, like the winter rains, a bloody barrage of finger-sized pieces started to rain down on all of them. Tails and shells joined the five viscera and six bowels in a gory rain. "UNLEASH THE PIGS!" Another voice yelled. Dread Pirate Fairy Thread Seeker screamed back from her ship. "NOT THE PIGS YOU LOUSE-RIDDEN IDIOTS! I''LL-" It was too late. The gates opened, and ten thousand flaming porcines took to the field, scything through the lobsters like a knife through melted garlic butter. A delayed explosive launched a grapeshot of flaming bacon up into the sky. By the divine hand of providence and author fiat, they landed beautifully on the flying ship''s sails, setting them ablaze. The ship started to go down in a torrent of profanities. "Vainqueur! You lazy bastard! Do I have to do your job for you!?" A voice - was that Fairy Elaine''s? - screamed from Dread Pirate Fairy Thread Seeker''s sinking ship. "I am your job!" Vainqueur roared back. "The purpose of life is to cater to dragons! Minions have jobs, and I have everything else!" There was a pause, and Yuren swore he heard a soft sigh on the breeze. Then the sky lit up as a dozen beams of pure, blinding Radiance launched from the ship, circling around the walls impossibly fast. Yuren was dozens of paces away from the beams occasionally sweeping over his head, and yet he was starting to sweat as the temperature soared. "Lazy ass!" the voice shouted one last time. Yuren glanced over to Vainqueur, where a single one of his absolutely-totally-real whiskers had been cut in half, the other end slowly floating to the ground. A hesitant cheer came up, then quickly increased in volume as the members of the Sect picked it up and welcomed their sudden and unexpected victory. Maybe not too unexpected Yuren mentally amended. Cat grinned and punched Yuren in the arm. "Yeah! That''s how we do it here! Okay, I''m going to grab Lucy and the kittens, and we''re all going to have a nice little picnic. Your job is to get us some space, some lobster, and most importantly - some butter." Yuren nodded. He could do that. As he secured part of the food, members of the Sect were organising a large lobster roast under the militant commands of the Catering Hall. A great amount of butter was brought out, but Yuren''s face fell as he realized it was only one-one tenth of the amount needed. Lady Quartermaster exited the Sect with her mortal wife, Lucy, in tow, and quickly fought off a few other members to grab a hunk for herself. "The rest is for Dragon Sifu-Sensei." She explained at his wordless question. "The catering budget is a black hole from which nothing escapes. If it runs out, the lower disciples are expected to¡ fill in. We make sure there is always funding for it." Yuren nodded, the statement making perfect sense to him. Dragon Sifu-Sensei obviously had a catering budget. For the rest of us, living¨Cor rather, surviving¨Cunder the glory of Sifu-Sensei was enough. Truly, he had been enlightened. *** Chapter Twelve - Salt The Earth Chapter Twelve - Salt The Earth "¨CWe don''t have permission, sir. ¨CHow far do you think we can sexualize this? I mean, the market is young girls and nerds. Nerds have more money, so like, obviously. ¨CWe are going to die, sir. ¨CI was thinking two sets of clothes, of course, one can be that armour made of plastic, and the other can be lingerie. Maybe cat-themed? ¨CWe don''t have permission." --Overheard discussion about My First Stray Cat Dolls, 2057 *** Gomorrah and I let the newbies have their fun for a while. Eventually, there was the usual mid-fight upgrade, but that really just amounted to Tankette buying different, more effective rounds for her mini-tank, and Princess buying Knight a proper samurai-grade weapon. In this case, an assault rifle that had a sword built into it. It could transform back and forth between a really shitty assault rifle with terrible ergonomics, to a short sword with equally awful ergo. It did look kind of cool though, so good for her. I tapped my way into the team comms while looking over the field below our little rise. It was currently filled with a whole lot of dead aliens, and some that were going to be dead soon on account of all the holes in their bodies and the missing limbs. "Alright, newbies, you do know that there''s a hive to kill, right?" "Oh," Princess said. "Right! We should go out and do that, right?" Hedgehog decided to cut in before she could go skipping along. "Normal procedure is to hold in a defensive position and then let the artillery or specialists take care of an active hive." I stared at the man for a long moment. "Bud, we are the specialists. And unless you''ve got a mortar emplacement in that spikey coat of yours, we don''t have artillery." "We have your mech, Miss Tankette''s tank, and Miss Gomorrah''s Fury," Knight said as she gestured to the three vehicles. "Those could serve as artillery, or at least big weapons." I scrunched my nose up, then gave her a reluctant nod. "Fair. This is a test for you bunch, so that cuts down on what you''ve got as options. Keep in mind that we''re supposed to not explode the hive." Crackshot hummed. He was still laying on his belly on the ground. He took a quick shot at one of the aliens in the heap below, nailing it in the head and sending it down. "We''re gonna need some special munitions then. What are our options? I''ve got a catalogue for weird rounds on me." "Oh!" Princess cheered. "My AI suggests cutting the area up. I have something for that too." I was gonna suggest they buy something off of my own catalogues, but this might work out for the best. I watched as Tankette opened the top hatch of her tank and poked her head out. "Um, I can take any 25-millimetre shell, if we''re going to use my tank." "I suppose I can afford a few mortars as well," Hedgehog said. "Disposable ones aren''t overly expensive. Though if we''re going to use mortars, we''ll want something larger than what Tankette''s using." "Just got to find a kind of bomb that won''t toss up too much dirt, then," Knight said. She coughed. "I don''t know if it''s just in my head, but I feel like my throat''s all scratchy already." "We should probably take some healing stuff after this," Princess said with a nod. "I don''t want super cancer." I stepped back and watched them work. The group came together, argued for a bit, then nodded between each other. Hedgehog bought a pair of mortars, the classic sort, with a tube and some arms and a doohickey on the side to adjust the angle. It was maybe a bit higher-tech than the fully manual sort carried by soldiers. It looked like it could auto-adjust, at least. Crackshot summoned up an entire crate of shells, and Princess skipped over to Tankette''s tank and the two of them looked into the back where I supposed the tank''s ammo stowage was. It took a minute or two for them to be ready, but then Tankette drove around to the edge of the hill and turned her turret out towards the aliens. "Ready!" she called out. "Ready here," Crackshot said. He, Knight, and Hedgehog were manning the mortars a little ways back. "No point in delaying this," Hedgehog said as he dropped a shell into a tube. There was a satisfying thump and I darted my eyes up to follow the blur of a shell as it went up high. It arced far above, then became harder to see as the smoke trailing it broke off. Still, it was pretty easy to tell where it landed because there was a big wump sound, and suddenly there was a hole about a metre across that lacked any dirt or rocks or any alien bits. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. "What was that?" I asked, pitching my voice down and keeping it off the comms. That seems like an anti-materiel shell of the dimensions-shunting variety. You have a few grenades with similar effects. "My blackhole grenades?" I asked. Indeed. Though those use a much smaller opening and the pressure is weaponized. They also create an inordinate amount of dust, which these avoid by shifting matter in one go without disturbing the soil around the point of impact too much. It''s still rather ineffective. I nodded at that last. The hole was pretty large, but there was a lot of ground to cover. At a guess, we''d need to destroy the entire coast along this side of the river, then some ways into the woods. Knight dropped a shell, then Hedgehog fired a second, Crackshot knelt by the crate, picking them up and handing them over. It was... not the most effective way of doing things, I figured. Then Tankette opened fire, and I reconsidered. Whatever she was firing lanced across the ground digging long furrows into the dead grass and exposed roots of the hive. The few still-moving aliens that happened to be close were blended apart. "What''s she firing?" I asked. A variation on the garrote grenades you''ve used previously. The round opens up soon after being fired and whips out a set of monomolecular wires that are spinning around the centre of the round. They cut through anything that the round passes close to. "Will that work?" I asked. It''ll certainly damage any root system the hive has in place without disturbing the top soil overly much. It will definitely destroy the hive eventually, but without destroying the biomass the hive is made of. A fresh hive will be able to reclaim this area with little trouble. "Hmm," I said before leaning in towards Gomorrah with my arms crossed. "We might have to salt the earth around here, so to speak." "Yes. This is effective, they''ll destroy the hive, but I don''t know if it''ll be enough. I''ve been talking to Atyacus, and we''ve come to the conclusion that most of the chemicals that we don''t want to agitate won''t be carried upwards if we boil the water that contains them." "I don''t see where you''re going with that," I admitted. "I''m suggesting that we heat up the lake a little," Gomorrah said. "To, perhaps a hundred degrees celsius." "Is that supposed to mean something special, or do you just want a round number?" I asked. She turned to look my way. "That''s the temperature that water boils at." "Huh, I thought the numbers were kind of just arbitrary." "Water freezes at zero degrees. How do you not know this?" "Whatever, I probably knew and just forgot," I dismissed. I had watched a science show or two, maybe. It was good enough. "But yeah, if the newbies can''t find a solution to the lake, then we''ll boil it. Or you will, I guess. Hey, does this feel too easy to you?" "Are you trying to jinx us?" I shrugged. "Would jinxing us mean that there''s more to do, because right now, it''s kind of boring." Gomorrah sighed. "Atyacus, can we expect any trouble?" she asked. I saw her nod, then nod again, then straighten up. "Oh." I was mostly split between being worried that something bad had come up, and happy to see that I wasn''t the only samurai that talked to her AI. I always had the impression that Myalis and I had a bit of a special relationship. "Was that a bad oh? Because it sounded like a bad oh." "It is," she said. "The other eight model twenty-twos have turned away from the city. They''re heading back here. Along with all of the smaller models escorting them." I glanced at the newbies. They were working together still, launching more shells up, though they were taking turns now and Princess had joined them. Tankette was putting rounds downrange, shredding any alien to pop up. Could they handle that many model twenty twos and all of their escorts? Maybe. Probably. But it would distract them from fucking up the hive a whole lot. "Yeah, alright, I guess it''s time that we step up and do some work too. If we intercept them far enough from the lake, do you think we''ll be safe to explode things?" "I would hope so, yes," Gomorrah said. *** Glossary: Model Five Model Five?

Enemy Classification: Heavy Defender / Medium-Threat / Biological Warfare Elimination Reward: 20 Points Model Description: Model Fives represent a significant shift in antithesis warfare strategy, introducing a unit designed for heavy defence and area denial. These quadrupeds are covered in fine, barbed quills capable of being ''tossed'' at adversaries with lethal precision. Larger and more durable than most low-tier models, their tank-like constitution suggests they are designed to counter threats from other alien species rather than humans. Model Fives are relatively rare, indicating a specialised role within the antithesis hive hierarchy. Artist Depiction of a model Five?

Threat Analysis Report: Model Five Threat Rating: Medium Overview The appearance of Model Fives on the battlefield marks an escalation in antithesis tactical diversity. Designed as a walking fortress, their primary mode of attack involves projecting quills that embed and cause severe injury to targets. Threat Capabilities Quill Projection: Model Fives can launch their barbed quills with enough force to penetrate light armour, acting as a medium-range offensive weapon. Durability: Their robust physique makes them difficult to incapacitate, requiring concentrated firepower or specialised weaponry to effectively neutralise. Strategic Role: Given their rarity and specialised nature, Model Fives are likely deployed in scenarios where high defence and area control are prioritised. Survivability and Adaptability: While not as agile as other models, their defensive capabilities allow them to withstand significant punishment in a variety of environmental conditions. Strategic Threat Assessment Containment Difficulty: Low-Medium. Their unique offensive capabilities and resilience complicate engagement and containment efforts. Military and Civilian Risk: Medium. Model Fives pose a direct threat to military personnel and heavily fortified structures. Civilian casualties are less likely due to their limited numbers and deployment in targeted scenarios. Potential for Expansion: Low. Given their specialised nature and apparent design to counter non-human threats, Model Fives are unlikely to be deployed in large numbers for territorial expansion. Mitigation Strategies Focused Firepower: Utilise heavy weaponry and concentrated attacks to overcome their natural durability. Area Denial Countermeasures: Employ mines, traps, and other area denial tools to limit their mobility and effectiveness. Research and Development: Study recovered quills and tissue samples to develop armour and protective gear capable of resisting or mitigating the effects of quill projection. Public Awareness and Training: Inform military and emergency response teams about the characteristics and capabilities of Model Fives to improve readiness and response effectiveness. Inform after-action personnel about the potential for lost quills near and around battlezones. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.Conclusion Model Fives are a formidable addition to the antithesis arsenal, requiring careful consideration in engagement and containment strategies. Their introduction suggests an evolving alien threat, possibly in response to challenges from other extraterrestrial entities.

Addendum M5-1: Transcript of Dissection Report by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Subject: Model Five Dissection Analysis Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Recording now. Today, we''re delving into a creature that''s both a marvel and a nightmare: a Model Five. Unlike anything we''ve encountered so far, this specimen is akin to a living fortress, bristling with quills that are as beautiful as they are deadly." [Sound of equipment being prepared] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "The quills are the first feature that grabs your attention. Each one is finely barbed, designed to inflict maximum damage. They''re not merely defensive; these can be projected at targets with lethal precision. Their skin is thick, almost like natural armour, providing them with considerable protection. Interestingly, they don''t have any scales or hardened patches of skin... I think that their skin is surprisingly flexible. Maybe to allow more quills to attach themselves to the body?" [Pause for examination] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Musculature is dense, supporting their heavy frame. It''s clear they''re built for endurance and defence rather than speed.... The internal anatomy is... very strange. I''m seeing the usual organ-equivalents, but there are these tumerous sacs all across the inside of the body.... Oh." [Several minutes pass] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Turns out the sacs have little capillary veins reaching out of them and into the inner layer of the model''s skin. It''s coating the quills in a liquid when they''re removed. Like stabbing a needle into a wet sponge. Only the needle is covered in thin, flexible barbs. [Sounds of items being deposited] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Concluding, the Model Five is... strange. I read that preliminary report submitted by Mister Prickleback. I didn''t want it to cloud my judgement, but I think I agree. This model could be a unit designed with a clear purpose in mind, and that purpose might not be to kill humans. There are other, more effective ways of doing that. A lot of hints point towards this being a model designed for a different environment and a different foe. I wonder what happened to them?" [Recording ends] End of Transcript.

Addendum M5-2: Due to their distinctive appearance and tactical role, Model Fives have garnered various unofficial names among troops and civilians, including: - Quill Tanks - Barbs - Porcupines - Thorn Throwers - Ghosts

Addendum M5-3: Ongoing research into the quills of Model Fives has indicated potential uses in materials science and medical applications. However, the primary focus remains on developing effective countermeasures for military purposes.

Addendum M5-4: Note from [][][][][][][], on [][]/[]/[][][][] The deployment of Model Fives in conflict zones has necessitated a review of our current defensive structures and personal protective equipment. The ability of their quills to penetrate clothing demands immediate attention and innovation in our defensive capabilities. We''re losing soldiers to these quills when they could be stopped by the most basic of kevlar plates.

Addendum M5-5: ALL ONGOING RESEARCH INTO MEDICAL USES FOR MODEL FIVE QUILLS IS TO BE CANCELLED EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. Chapter Thirteen - Flick My Switches Chapter Thirteen - Flick My Switches "Forest fires are a common occurrence. In some part due to human intervention, but also as a natural-occuring phenomena. Once, we attempted to corral and control them, but now, with the rising risk of antithesis presence in the wilderness and in rural areas, controlling a wild fire is a much greater risk." ¡ªJames "Smokey" Silver, Saskatchewan Fire Chief, 2041 *** "You know, this reminds me of the good old days," I said. "The good old days?" Gomorrah asked over a more private channel. It was just the two of us, and I supposed our respective AI. I couldn''t imagine Myalis not snooping in. "You know, back when it was just you and me, heading out to blow things up and light the world on fire," I said. "Catherine, that good old days you''re alluding to was two weeks ago," Gomorrah said. I paused in the act of swinging myself into my mech''s cockpit. "Yeah, and?" I asked. "It feels like it was a longer time ago, what with those weeks being pretty busy." I spun around and crashed ass-first into the pilot''s seat, then I reached over and flicked the cockpit closed--which required flipping a small analogue switch which my studies into repairing the mech revealed was only there because flicking switches did something for people. I leaned into the seat, then wiggled my flesh and blood fingers, opening and closing them a few times. My skin felt a little... taut? Like it was just a bit too tight, or I was wearing a pair of latex gloves that were too small for me. It wasn''t cutting into my dexterity, but it was noticeable. The itch was easier to ignore now, though I felt oddly... dirty? I couldn''t wait to take a shower later. "Do you think that our level of business is normal for samurai?" I asked. There were more flicky-switch toggles to click up or down. Some had little plastic covers that had to be pulled up before I could toggle the switch below. They all made very satisfying ''clicks'' as I pressed them. "I don''t think so," Gomorrah said. "Atyacus?" A rather snooty voice came onto the coms. "Neither of you will be surprised to note that you didn''t break any galactic records for busiest newest-inducted Vanguard. However, you are both in the top percentile for busiest human Vanguard in terms of hours spent fighting the antithesis compared to hours since induction." "Huh," I said as I chewed on that for a minute. "Top percentile is good, right? Because the last time I heard the word percentile it was with regards to the quality of the orphanage, and it was followed by ''lowest'' which I think means it was shit." "In this case, top percentile is probably not ideal," Gomorrah said. "But I can''t exactly complain, we had some time off. We might have spent it unwisely, but we had it." "Yeah," I said with a nod as I settled in, hands touching the control sticks at last. "I''m ready to rock over here," I said. The screens on the inside of the cockpit lit up and I had a one-eighty view of the outside of my mech. A map opened in the corner, and a diagnostics read out popped up in the other with text scrolling through it. I actually knew what some of it meant now, which was kind of neat. Until I realized that a lot of it was reminding me that the mech needed servicing. That was a problem for future-Cat. "Alright, let''s move," I said. "About time," Gomorrah replied. She kicked the Fury up and into the air, and the car came to a hover over my mech''s shoulder. Gomorrah then switched our comms channel to encompass the newbies as well. "Stray Cat and I are heading out to take on an incoming surge. You have until our return to eliminate the antithesis hive here. Make the most of it, but don''t get in over your heads please." "Aye-aye, boss," Crackshot said. "Oh, bye-bye! Have fun!" Princess replied. The others acknowledged with a little more professionalism, and Gomorrah turned the comms back to private. "They should be able to reach out if there''s trouble," she said. "And I left a drone behind to watch over them." "You did?" I asked. "I did. You''re not the only one who can purchase stealthy equipment, you know?" I frowned at that, then spun the mech''s sensor suit around and checked over the newbies, then I looked over the newbies and the sensors picked up some fuckiness some ten metres up. Fluctuations in temperature, a few distant clouds that were jittering very slightly because what I saw of them wasn''t real but rather a projection. "Neat," I said. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Should I have called up a few cats to keep an eye on things? To be fair, I was... not great at keeping track of my cat drones. They were scattered about here and there across New Montreal, and I was pretty sure Myalis was the only one with even a vague idea of where they were and what they were up to. Sometimes I worried. Most of the time I didn''t think about it. When we went out with the Kittens, it was always Lucy who kept track of them. I just bailed them out of whatever shit they inevitably got caught up in. Gomorrah set a waypoint on our shared map. "This is the intercept point. We have three kilometres to go. Do you think you can make it there in a reasonable time, or should I give you a lift?" "I''ll make it," I said. I pointed my mech in that direction, then metaphorically floored it. The mech started to run. Fortunately, most of the greenery around here was well past dead, so when I inevitably ran into some small trees and bushes, I came out on top. Less fortunately, the ground was far from level, and was, in fact, a bumpy fucking mess. My mech moved with a calm, careful grace that had its core stay pretty level even as its legs shifted to run. It made for a surprisingly smooth ride when the variations in terrain and changes in direction weren''t too bad. They were pretty bad right now. I found myself tightening my legs against the sides of the spaces for them and gripping onto the controls as hard as I could. The little red light flashing above me, reminding me to put on my harness blinked sarcastically at me. We arrived at the point Gomorrah had pointed out soon enough, but by the time we were getting there, the aliens were arriving too. The spot was a thicker patch of forest with a few thin ATV roads dug into the dirt criss-crossing through it, just past that was a wide open field. It looked like it hadn''t been cultivated in a while, and was filled with small, thin baby trees that didn''t look too much taller than I was, as well as a fuckload of bushes and flowering plants and tall grass. The only reason I knew the aliens were getting close was because my vision, coming from the mech''s head, had a decent amount of height and I could see the grass shifting in waves as they moved through it. "Looks like it''s gonna be interesting," I said as I finally buckled in properly. "Looks like it. We''re far enough from the nest now that I think we can allow ourselves to... shift the terrain a little. In fact, let me set the stage." I followed the Fury as Gomorrah moved up and away. She started to fly in a long, arcing curve that stretched out for a kilometre or two. Tiny glints of light caught something falling from the bottom of her car. Then it reached the end and spun around to retrace its path, only to continue on the other side. "What''s that all about?" I muttered. "I''m creating a wall," she said. When she returned, I could almost feel the relish in her voice. "Like this." Gomorrah triggered something, and there was suddenly fire. Huge rising balls of flame roared out, the sky flashed orange, and then a wall of smoke burst out of the expanding fire and into the air. She had created kilometres-long firewall. It curved to the left and right, with only one exit... right where we were sitting. "That''ll do it," I said. "Will that burn for long enough?" I asked. The fire was settling already, though more smoke was still rising. "It''ll last," Gomorrah said. "Did you want me to go over the finer details of how this works? The initial explosion was essentially a flash-fire, to destroy anything nearby that can catch fire. Now the firebombs will just keep a much smaller line of fire going for the next twenty to thirty minutes before extinguishing it. It shouldn''t spread if we''re lucky." "And if we''re not feeling particularly lucky?" I asked. She sighed wistfully. "Forest fire." Sometimes I worried. *** Chapter Fourteen - Combustion Beam Flag-tillery OR; Flying Disco Balls of Death Chapter Fourteen - Combustion Beam Flag-tillery OR; Flying Disco Balls of Death "¨CWe haven''t gotten permission yet. ¨CIt''ll come. So, anyway, when you connect to the app you can have the figurine say a bunch of lines. My favourite is ''Putting the Fire in Firepower!'' ¨CAgain, we don''t have permission. ¨CAnd I''m thinking of a line of lighters, matches, and maybe small blowtorches? Flashlights, maybe?" --Overheard discussion about My First Gomorrah Dolls, 2057 *** The swarm came at me with its fastest little guys first. That mostly meant model ones, the flying fucks being way faster than all the rest. And a whole lot weaker too. "Myalis, can we top-load a few of those air-explosion rounds, like Tankette used?" I asked. Your internal magazines have four empty slots for rounds, but they''re not designed to be filled from the top. You''ll have to empty your current magazine to the level where the new rounds will be introduced. I shrugged. Fair enough. I tapped through a few commands and then let my twin Gatling guns rip into the flying part of the swarm. It was the big-guns that I needed to empty, and that was just as easy. I took command of the guns, aimed them ahead, then let loose. 105mm rounds scythed ahead, curving slightly as I''d aimed a little high and over the front of the incoming swarm. They crashed into the ground some four or five hundred metres away then exploded. "What do I have loaded in right now?" I asked as I glanced at a readout on the side. "Oh." They were anti-armour rounds. They had some explosive oomph to them, but nothing too satisfying. What do you want for anti-air? I have a few options on offer. The size of the guns you have gives you a lot of space for customization! I fired another pair of shots. "You have three more shots to convince me, I guess. Maybe only a few, I think we''ll go for some HE after that. The Twenty-Twos shouldn''t be too tough, right?" In that case, I''ll offer three suggestions. The first is a simple air-burst explosive round. It fires conventional fragmentation all around, with a shaped charge to ensure that local flying targets are prioritised. Second! A little less conventional, but a mono-filament round is available. On discarding its sabot it deploys a series of spinning lines that create a moving space where everything solid is cut into and through. Very effective against light flying adversaries. Finally, as a last option, explosive-powered lasers. "You''re not just going to leave that last one hanging, right?" I asked. They''re chemical laser rounds. When they exit the barrel, the round has targeting software that adjusts a series of sixty-four spiral-set mirrors, then the chemical combustion triggers a split laser to fire for a short duration. It''s usually a kind of flak reserved for use in space, but it is good enough for a short-range engagement like this one. "Okay, well, obviously we''re going with the lasers." I shook my head, why even offer the other two if explosion-lasers was an option from the start? There was a faint clunk as a few anti-air lasers were loaded in. I returned my focus to the field. The Antithesis were well and truly aware that we were here, and they weren''t happy about it. The model twenty-twos each had a small horde around them, some hundred or so aliens each, and if we didn''t cull them, that number would only grow as the big guys snacked on the local vegetation and puked out more lower-tier models. The first of them showed up in the distance, moving our way with slow, lumbering steps. It wasn''t a quick model. Or maybe it was, it just moved slowly, but its size meant that every slow step still carried it a good ways. It wasn''t quite keeping up with its little pals, but it wasn''t falling too far behind. Until I plugged two 105mm rounds into its torso and watched them detonate. That slowed it way the fuck down. There were more model ones coming, a whole flock of them. They had probably zipped ahead from the other model twenty-twos still making their way over. I fired off the last of my armour-penetrating rounds, emptying the mech''s internal magazine before the anti-air rounds were automatically loaded up. I aimed the guns up, which required lowering the mech''s rear since the turrets only had a few degrees of vertical travel. I aimed well ahead of the flock, checked the targeting, then lowered my aim a smidge. Then I fired. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. When Myalis described the rounds, I had a certain mental image in mind, of flying disco balls of death. Instead, the round moved so quickly that there was no way I could follow it across the sky. What I could keep track of were the searing hot lines etched into the air where the round had passed. They faded quickly enough, but I imagined that if I was looking at them with my naked eye, I''d have little lines across my vision for a while. Hundreds of model ones fell from the sky, very much dead. I aimed to the side, then fired again, then again, blanketing the area with criss-crossing lines of death. A few even stabbed down into the horde below, killing some dog-like model threes and at least injuring some of the bigger, tougher ones. "Thanks," Gomorrah said. "Model ones can''t possibly be a threat to the Fury," I said. "They tend to splatter when they die, and while I do enjoy washing my car, I don''t enjoy cleaning off alien remains. It''s not what I''d call pleasurable detail work." "If you want, you can clean up my mech," I offered. I hadn''t been great about it. Actually, the only reason the cockpit didn''t stink of sweat and potato chips was because I didn''t spend that much time in here. "No," Gomorrah refused flatly. Fuck, she might have been on to me. "I''m going to move forward and burn the corpses. We need to find that middle-ground between too much fire and not enough." "I have no idea what you mean, but you go on and have your fun," I said. The Fury darted ahead and I cooled it with the anti-air fire. There were only a few model ones left in any case, and I figured I could sweep them with some Gatling gun fire. "Switch me up to high explosive?" I asked. "I want to blow holes in the swarm." Done. My next few shots ended with satisfyingly large craters in the ground and pillars of kicked up dirt that were at least a hundred metres tall. I found myself chuckling in amusement as I pulled the trigger, watched a pair of big explosions, then shifted to aim at another group. There were two great pleasure''s in a woman''s life: other women, and fuck-huge explosions. I paused for a moment as Gomorrah found her own little pleasure, hosing down the carcass of that first model twenty-two with several hundred litres of lit napalm. The corpse barely had time to go all bonfire before it was turning into ash. I settled back once the Fury was a little higher up and dropping spurts of short-lasting fire onto the bigger aliens below it. I didn''t want to accidentally catch Gomorrah in the AOE of one of my hits. If I got her car muddy she''d definitely be on my ass about washing it. I''d do a terrible job of it, of course, because there was no better way to never be assigned a job again than to do it catastrophically poorly the first time, but still, it would be a wasted afternoon. The rest of the model twenty-twos eventually came around. They were like massive flies after a pile of shit. Not a gram of self-preservation between the lot of them as they ambled towards us. I took a lot of pride in lining up a few shots of HE so that they rammed into the meat-sacs hanging from their sides. The explosions were even more satisfying when there was organic goop mixed into the mess. It took nearly forty minutes for the last one to get within mech range. I watched Gomorrah swoop down and light it up, then she splashed some more fire all around. As she flew back, she dropped some explosive charges that lit the entire field up in a sea of low, smokeless flames. "That ought to do it," Gomorrah said. "It ought to," I agreed. "Should we go check up on the newbies?" "We should. I''ve been glancing at my drone footage every so often. I think they''re all safe and sound for now, but the situation has... deteriorated somewhat." "Oh, well shit, that''s not something I want to hear," I said as I started turning my mech around. What kind of shit could a few newbies get into in like, under an hour of unsupervised time? Fuck, who was I kidding, I could imagine a lot of crap they could get into, and the more I imagined, the faster I pushed my mech. *** Chapter Fifteen - Mech Makes Might Chapter Fifteen - Mech Makes Might "The issues with mechanised walkers, as in, bipedal mechs, is... everything. There is no advantage to any of this. On paper, every aspect of this design is a disaster waiting to happen!" --Ignored Noeing Engineer Memo, 2048 *** If I wasn''t used to dealing with whining children then I might have been a little overwhelmed at the level of brattiness I had to deal with when I returned. "It''s not working," Princess said. "Well, we haven''t exactly tried everything, now have we?" Crackshot shot back. "This isn''t according to protocol. Not that any of you have the faintest clue what that even means," Hedgehog grumped... okay, so it wasn''t grumpy, but rather the mature adult man''s version of grumpy, which was the same but with a deeper voice. I blinked at the lot of them, then slowly looked over to where Knight was standing next to Tankette''s tank. Neither of them seemed willing to join in on the incessant whining, which was actually kind of nice. "Alright, fuckwits," I snapped. That calmed them all down, though I think it might have pissed off a couple. "Someone needs to tell me what''s going on." They, of course, all started talking at the same time. I sighed. "No, no, shut up. Hedgehog, you go first. Gimme a report as if I''m... I dunno, some out of town shareholder." Hedgehog stood taller at that. When I''d come over, I''d discovered the newbie squad spread out across a couple of acres. They were bitching over the comms and very clearly not working out what to do next. Princess and Knight were stabbing at the ground on one end, Tankette was parked at the back doing nothing. Crackshot was planting explosives into the ground with a sort of post-digger, and Hedgehog was patrolling the outside area while complaining the hardest. Nothing practical seemed to be getting done, and it kind of annoyed me. So I had them all gather up in the shadow of that hill we''d fought from earlier, then I got out of my mech so that they could read from my body language. I wanted it to be clear that I wasn''t impressed. "Once you left with Gomorrah, we continued to fight the antithesis until the area was cleared of living examples," Hedgehog began. "Alright," I said. So far so good. "Then we couldn''t decide on how to get rid of the hive. I suspect we all started to take care of things in our own way," Hedgehog said. "We were just gonna cut up all of the roots," Princess said. "And I was planting bombs all over. They''re sucky vacuum bombs, they''ll rip the area up without tossing too much dust into the air," Crackshot said. I nodded slowly. "And Hedgehog, you were..." "Waiting for orders," he said. How did this wet sock become a samurai? "Tankette?" The tank''s hatch opened up and Tankette slowly poked her head out. "Um, well, I didn''t want to argue with the others. I was mostly keeping an eye open for any distant aliens that might be coming around." I couldn''t be angry with her. Tankette''s mom aura had a critical advantage bonus here. "Fine," I said. "Princess, cutting things is a good idea. Doing it manually is stupid. We have plebs for manual labour. Or robots. Crackshot, better idea, but again, too slow. Hedgehog... you are the one who gives orders now." "They didn''t seem inclined to listen," he said. "They''re listening to me, and I have no more authority than you do," I said. The merc opened his mouth, then shut it slowly. I saw him eyeing my mech, and I was sure he was thinking that having that gave me some authority--and he was right--but it was just a big toy that I''d bought that he could buy one of for himself, not an actual sign of any actual authority. "Understood," he said in the end. "Right, so, Crackshot''s idea is the least useless. Get back up on the hill. You still have those mortar launchers?" Crackshot nodded. "Thought of using them, but I didn''t want to accidentally smack someone down here with ''em." "Fair. Let''s move out of here and load them up. We''ll vacuum this entire area up and call it a day." It was probably gonna cut their point-earning short, but fuck it, I didn''t feel like sitting out here all damned day long. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The others all seemed either annoyed, or a little humiliated as they climbed back up and around the hill. I actually kind of felt bad for them. Not enough to do anything about it, but like, bad on principle. "You handled that well," Gomorrah said. "You do know that I''ve raised dozens of kids, right?" I asked. "That''s... kind of horrific, actually. Did you ever check up on those children now that some are out of your care? Prisons have visitation rights, no?" Gomorrah asked. She sounded too innocent for a moment there. "Oh, fuck off. Lucy''s connected to all of their socials. I''m pretty sure she''s kicking them some credits and shipping leftovers over when no one''s looking." "Truly, the better half," Gomorrah said. I shook my head at that. Not that she was wrong. "So, vacuum bombs? Think that''ll work?" "It should," Gomorrah said. "I''ll salt the land afterwards. I have a few decontamination drones I can buy. They''ll hover around and filter out the topsoil and the water. It''ll take a few months, but the area will be clean enough by the end." I scanned the area at a glance. Lots of broken trees and burnt grass and whipped up dirt. "Might be a while before this area''s safe. I bet there''s a few model threes under all that dirt just playing dead or something." "Very possible. The army will have to look into it," Gomorrah said. "Our job is to kill the hive. Making sure it stays dead either happens as a consequence of how hard we kill it, or it becomes someone''s full-time job, at least for a while." Made sense to me. We''d probably left a few husks of hives behind us already that needed to be scoured. Someone probably earned a nice hourly income making sure that every last root was burnt to a crisp. Gomorrah and I made it to the top of the hill where Crackshot was buying up some crates of ammo. "My AI got a grid laid out for us to follow," he said before sending a file out. "Just got to line things up and then we can pull the trigger." "Oh, can I do it?" Princess asked. "Yeah, sure thing, kiddo," Crackshot said. With the mortars loaded up, they started to fire out bombs that rose up, then thumped into the soggy ground. It was nice to see the pattern forming, bombs every two metres or so in a sort of circular spiral pattern. I sat back and waited while they loaded and fired in sequence. At the same time, I checked the news. There were some hints that the whole Phobos thing was being leaked. Politicians were seen panicking about things, and there were lots of celeb-news channels that were saying that fan-favourites were looking into bunkers all of a sudden. Some were saying that it was just an after-effect of the whole global incursion, but it felt like more, especially knowing the full story. Poor fucks thought that bunkers would save them. "Alrighty! We''re done!" Princess said. She raised both hands as if she were the conductor of an orchestra, then paused. "All clear?... Yeah? In that case... ka-boom!" There was, in fact, a rather nice ka-boom some split second later. The explosions started in the centre of the spiral, then continued outwards. They were rather strange, loud pops that had the air in the area visibly sucking inwards even as dirt was kicked up on the edge. With each subsequent explosion the circle grew and the spiral of missing dirt continued to grow. Then all was done, there were a few last explosions in some nooks and corners, and a row of them along the shoreline that had the lake''s water churning, then it was over. A few spots revealed some ancient roots from the old trees in the area, liberated at last, and a few spots looked like the sort of roots I''d expect from a hive. "Nice work," I said. "Now... Gomorrah, what''s the next step?" Gomorrah, who''d relocated to sitting on the hood of the Fury. Looked my way. I could imagine her blinking languidly at my attempt to fling responsibility her way. "The next step is returning to Saint-J¨¦rome. The city will survive without us for a few hours, but it''ll be better if we''re there." "Good point," I said. "Back to the city, folks!" I said. Time to go back and see if the army had managed not to set themselves on fire while we were gone for... what, four hours? Even odds, I figured. *** Chapter Sixteen - Command Critique Chapter Sixteen - Command Critique "It started a few years ago. I was conducting some research for... a corp, it was a tangential thing, about radio receiver detection. Anyway, I stumbled across crystal radiography. Did you know that a crystal is almost all you need to receive a radio signal? Did you know that radio signals are energy. It was so simple from there, all I had to do was get enough crystals and plug the whole idea into an efficiency AI. Free power! Unlimited free power!" --From the Redacted Manifesto of the Corpo Bomber, 2046 *** When we returned, it was to find that the army hadn''t been sitting on their hands while we were gone. The line of tanks out before the wall had been improved. Some tractors were pushing dirt around, and backhoes were piling it up into these little ramps. A few were completed, with tanks sitting inside of the pits they left surrounded on three sides by walls of dirt reinforced with sandbags. The walls of the city were being shored up as well. Some of the fallen sections had been pulled up and the holes were patched by stacks of sandbags and a long row of barbed wire. A few temporary towers were up as well, with machine guns stationed atop them with a clear view over the wall. Further in, I could see that the command tent had been relocated deeper onto the highway and more tents had gone up around it. It still looked temporary, but less so than it had when we left. "They were busy," I said. "They were," Gomorrah confirmed. We parked by the edge of the highway, now deep within the protected area that the army had set up. With this level of defence I wouldn''t have been surprised to see them weathering those model twenty-twos after all. I got out of my mech and landed with a bend of the knee right in front of my big old cat. Tankette was stepping out of her own tank, and the others were coming out of the little armoured car we''d borrowed. It had come out pretty dirty, but otherwise unaffected by the trip, which was nice. "Alright," I said with a clap. "Gomorrah and I will be checking in with the brass. Anyone that wants to come can, otherwise... I don''t know, make yourselves useful. Give the army boys a hand. I bet they''re still busy clearing out the city itself!" The group did split up. Tankette mentioned that she wanted to see if she could help the army so she''d ask. Princess and Knight decided to head into the city to help with clearing, which made sense. Knight was particularly suited to that kind of work. Crackshot, meanwhile, chose to plop himself down atop one of those guard towers and see if he couldn''t pick off some distant aliens for fun and profit. Which only left Hedgehog following me and Gomorrah into the big command tent. "Ah, you''ve returned," Lieutenant Juno said. He greeted us with a quick salute, then gestured deeper into the room. "Good timing. We were going over the strategic analysis just now. May I present to you Major Tinwhistle." Juno was gesturing to a tiny slip of a woman in the same kind of army fatigues that the guys outside were wearing, only hers had more mud on them, staining her from boot to mid-shin. She had cybernetic eyes. Not just augs, but full-on cyborg eyes, all black and gunmetal with little red lenses, and one of her arms was fully mechanical as well, though she moved pretty naturally with it. "As LT Juno said, I''m Major Tinwhistle," the woman said with a voice that sounded like throat cancer warmed over coffee. "What are you the major of?" I asked. She sniffed. "I''m the major of keeping things working around here." "She means that she''s the major of the Tenth Engineering Corp," Juno replied. "They''ve come with resupplies for the forces in place, as well as a number of engineering vehicles, mobile emplacements, and a lot of hard-working people." "Stop buttering me up, Juno," Tinwhistle snapped. "I''m not gonna fuck you." Juno opened, then closed his mouth. There was a smattering of red on his cheeks. Well-well, my boy Juno was shooting his shot and got shot down for it. I respected him just enough not to laugh in his pretty-boy face. "Well alright then," I said. "Nice to have you around. What was this about a strategic analysis?" We joined up at another one of those map-projector tables that the army liked so much. It was for good reason, because they were cool as fuck. Nothing quite like the ''standing around a glowing map'' aesthetic to set the mood, even if we were in a glorified tent. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. "Glad to have you back, Samurai," Brigadier General Thibodeau said as he came up to the table. "Do you wish to start us off? From what I understand we have good news from the north?" I nodded, then gestured for Gomorrah to go ahead. She let out a very slight sigh that someone else might have confused for an exhale. "Things went well. Echo Lake is boiling now. It should remove the last remains of the hive from the water in due time without additional contamination in the area. The top soil was... removed via technological means, and the hive was neutralised. We received the points for it as confirmation." We had? Myalis must have read my mind, because the notification popped up for me. Targets Eliminated! Model One... 2754 Models Reward... 2754 points Model Three... 1901 Models Reward... 19010 points Model Four... 5 Models Reward... 75 points Model Six... 24 Models Reward... 360 Points Model Eight... 2 Models Reward... 10 points Model Ten... 3 Models Reward... 3 points Model Twenty-Two... 8 Models Reward... 4000 Small Hive Destruction: 500 points Total Points earned: 26,709 Points after partner share: 4,813 Current Point Total: 38,535 I scanned through the list, but mostly focused on the number at the bottom. That point share was... well, it was alright, I supposed. Several thousand points was a nice load for a newbie samurai, enough to get a full set of pretty damned good starter gear. For a mid-tier samurai, which I felt like Gomorrah and I were edging towards, it was... not chump change, but it wasn''t a ton. We''d be dropping that amount of points on a single piece of gear at our level of things. Still, the goal had been to give the newbies a leg up, and this would certainly do that. "--Stray Cat has a comprehensive report on the quality of the new Samurai to present," Gomorrah continued. I blinked, then replayed the last bit in my mind. I had... not been listening at all. "Uh, yeah, right. So... they''re good." "That''s your comprehensive report?" Major Tinwhistle asked. "Did you not comprehensive a part of it?" I asked. "I can go into more detail if you''d like." The Major crossed her arms, then shrugged a shoulder. "I''m good." "I wouldn''t mind more details," Lieutenant Moreau said. Next to him, Lieutenant Colonel Britannica nodded firmly. I groaned. "Fine. Uh. Tankette''s tank is great. Lots of flexibility, which you wouldn''t expect from a tank. Kind of one-track, no puns, but it''s not that bad in this kind of case. If she grows into her specialisation she''ll do fine. Princess is a hot mess, but Knight is actually on the ball. Princess needs to get a gimmick and fast because being pretty and all dressed up isn''t going to keep her from being eaten alive. Her sister''s doing a good job of that, though." I glanced to Hedgehog for a bit and he nodded for me to continue. "Hedgehog here''s a problem child," I said. I don''t think he was expecting that because he blinked dumbly at me. "Pardon?" he asked. "He was taught a bunch of protocols and would do fine in the army or whatever. He''s very by-the-book. Does things just-so. He''s super anal about it, and not the fun sort. And it''ll get him killed, because the aliens don''t have a book they go by, and his tactics are mostly designed to stall for a samurai to show up. But he is the samurai. "Crackshot''s cool though. He''s not great at killing hives with his main strat, but he adapted and figured it out. He''s got a niche, but he can play outside of it and plays well with others." I turned towards Gomorrah and crossed my arms. "There, happy?" I asked. "Yes, actually," she said. "You''re very observant, Cat... strangely so at times for someone who can be so utterly blind." "What''s that mean?" I asked. Gomorrah shrugged a little, so I gave her side a poke with a knuckle. It didn''t do anything, because she was wearing armour, but still, I had to make my annoyance known. Maybe I''d stink bomb her car? That had to exist somewhere in the esoteric explosives catalogue, right? Wait... no, she''d just burn down my house in retaliation, and then things would spiral out of control from there. The look Hedgehog was wearing suggested that I''d already done enough to earn myself some enemies for a day. "That was insightful, thank you," Juno said. "Indeed," the general replied. "Onto the meat of this meeting, then?" *** Chapter Seventeen - Local Sorts of Problems Chapter Seventeen - Local Sorts of Problems "Do you want to die like a coward, or do you want to die with a gun in your hands, god damnit?!" --Winner of the New Militia of New Montreat under-16 recruitment poster contest, 2041 *** "Go on, bossman, what''s the meat like?" I asked. The general gave me a flat look, then gestured to the map. Saint-J¨¦rome was laid out on it, the bigger buildings sticking out a little from the surface. Most of the city was painted in a dull orangey-green, with clearer greens around a blob to the south and along the northern wall. "We''ve set up logistical locations here and here," he said. Two spots of blue appeared, one at the south of the city, the other next to highway 117. It looked like it was a few dozen metres away from where we were right now. "And there''s a logistical route from the south to the north using the highway. It''s above ground and easy to secure. Patrols are working along that route to keep it clear. So far we have no issues." A thin cyan line linked the southern logistics dump and the northern one. I nodded along. I wasn''t so stupid as to think that logistics weren''t important. "How are we doing for supplies?" I asked. "We have enough to keep all of the troops here garrisoned for three days," Thibodeau said. The general tapped something in mid-air, probably something on his augs, and a spreadsheet appeared on my own augs. Probably vetted by Myalis. "Our food and medical supplies are being stretched having to accommodate the local militia, but otherwise things are holding steady and within expected ranges." "The militia?" Gomorrah asked. General Thibodeau''s lips drew into a thin line. "According to the Constitutional Act of 2037, all corporate and civilian organisations have the legal right to military aid in the formation of a militia. There are rules and stipulations that complicate such formations, of course, but Saint-J¨¦rome definitely fits within the parameters for the creation of a temporary militia. Which means we owe them assistance." "Are we talking about a serious militia, or just people trying to get free food?" I asked. "Both," he said, sounding a little waspish. "Sir, if I may?" Juno asked before turning to address us. "The militia here are civilians, police officers, security personnel, some retired army and PMC. They''ve formed a small guard contingency. Most of them are... what do we call military LARPers?" "Oh," I said. Dudes in tacticool, got it. "Well, if they keep people somewhat safe, I guess there''s no harm?" Juno shrugged. "They can shore up locations of low importance for us at the cost of being inefficient and annoying to handle." "Moving on," the general said. "We''ve managed to clear the obvious antithesis threats throughout the city thanks to your push earlier today. Now we''re doing a two-part quick sweep." I glanced at the others. Hedgehog was the only one who seemed to know what that meant. "What''s that?" I asked. Fuck it, I''d play the role of group idiot then. I was kind of suited for it. The general didn''t seem to mind. "We''re currently sweeping the city street-by-street and looking into every easily-accessible building. The Tenth Engineer corp is inspecting the city infrastructure as well. This sweep is meant to be fast. If aliens are noticed, an appropriate amount of force is called in to deal with them." "Have you found any?" Gomorrah asked. "One in four buildings has an alien presence," he confirmed. The map lit up with hundreds of red dots, most of them between the middle of the city and the southern end. "The sweep has only reached the centre of the city so far. Tagged buildings will be part of the second phase of the quick sweep, which involves sending in armed cleaning crews to verify that there are no spreading aliens." "Corpse clean up?" I asked. Tinwhistled leaned forwards a little. "We''ve commandeered the city''s garbage removal trucks, some of their loaders, and every pickup we can get our hands on that has a decent bed-size. We''re taking the bodies here." She gestured and a yellow circle appeared on the south side of the city, just outside the walls. "Wind should carry the stink away from the populated parts of the city, so we should be alright." "If you need any assistance with the incineration process, let me know," Gomorrah volunteered. Tinwhistle nodded. "Alright. Shouldn''t be an issue, we''ve been doing this since before you were born with few issues." The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. "Few?" Gomorrah asked. Tinwhistle grinned. "Had a year where the antithesis we picked up after this one incursion were fire-proof." "Really?" Gomorrah asked. "Well, more fire-proof than usual. Had to pump up the heat a lot. Incursion started in an automated metal foundry. Temps in there were high as hell. My theory''s that they evolved to endure the heat better or something." Likely just variation models. If you want a better explanation, just let me know. I nodded, and Myalis seemed to catch on. The Antithesis models that you''re used to seeing are all variants. Technically Variant-Earth. They are adapted to a moderately high oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere with sunlight within the range typically found on Earth''s surface. They are adapted to thrive on Earth. The actual, normal variant of the Antithesis are designed for lower-oxygen environments. These are, overall, very minor adaptations that do little to change the makeup or appearance of the average Antithesis model. A hive that starts in an environment with an elevated temperature will, of course, make some slight modifications to itself and its progeny to better survive in that environment. That was a bit more of a lecture than I''d planned on getting. The general was nattering on about something to do with logistics with Gomorrah chiming in, so at least Myalis'' rant was well-timed. Actually, it had been a while since she last went on a long explanatory rant about something, so maybe she was just... rant-deprived or something? That information wasn''t meant to make you feel smug. I switched the mic in my helmet off so that no one else would hear us. "Calm your byte-sized tits, I''m just finding your way of acting funny." Yes, mocking me is certainly a good move which will have no reprisals or poor consequences. I rolled my eyes. She was such a drama queen. If she really wanted to mess my day up, she''d do it, not just threaten it. "Saint-J¨¦rome should be cleared out of any lingering Antithesis within the next two days," the general said. "That''s good," I said. "So the army will hold here for that long?" "With... other news coming from the Martian front being what it is, yes. It was determined that staying relatively close to New Montreal would be for the best," he said. "Is that news classified still?" Gomorrah asked. It earned her a look of concern from just about everyone in the room, excluding the Brigadier General himself. "Yes, it is. It''s leaked, of course, but we''re keeping a lid on it for now. We need to prepare a reaction to the news that''ll keep everyone''s minds in the game." "Are we expecting some mass panic?" I asked. "No. The Family and the government are both preparing things to quell any sort of panic. A new Family-endorsed Samurai-made gacha game will be launching in three days, there''s a few major sporting events coming up, and I''ve heard through the grape-vine that some political scandals have been cooked up. The entertainment corps are all-in on the big distraction." I blinked. "Holy fuck, are we the bad guys?" Gomorrah looked at me, then shook her head. "No. We''re doing this for everyone''s own good. It''s different." "Actually, there is one more thing that might be of interest to you," the general said. "We''ve noticed a small town nearby, Saint-Colomban. The town should have been overrun, but the antithesis have met resistance. It''s not corporate, from what we can tell." "A samurai?" I asked. "Possibly. We''ll be sending someone to meet with them tomorrow morning. With Saint-J¨¦rome retaken, the local antithesis population has been drastically reduced, there are fewer of them pushing towards the town. They''ll keep until morning." I frowned. "Wouldn''t sooner be better?" There could be a newbie bleeding out over there, and this moron wanted to sit on his thumb instead of checking things out. "That''s the soonest we can get a negotiation team ready," he replied. "Fuck that," I said. "Gom, we''re taking a detour on the way back home, alright?" "I suppose. And please don''t shorten my name to Gom," Gomorrah said. I nodded and pretended like I wouldn''t forget that. The meeting was winding down anyway, so I gave the bunch of them a fake salute then stomped my way out of the tent. I hadn''t noticed it, but the sun was set now. "Dammit, I''m going to be late for supper." *** Chapter Eighteen - Better Than Some, Worse Than Most Chapter Eighteen - Better Than Some, Worse Than Most "The exodus started in 2031. It was mostly pushed by two factors. The first, the massive reduction in safety in the rural areas of most developed countries. The second factor was the destruction of a few large corporations that held a monopoly on rentable properties. Prior to late 2030, 84% of all rentable properties were controlled in whole or in part by a few corporate entities that set the price for housing." --The Exodus, 2048 *** "I love you and miss you so much you cannot even imagine," I said the second Lucy picked up. "Aww... so you''re going to be a bit late?" Lucy replied. I groaned. Damn, I was easy to read. I was walking outside of the command tent, on my way to the mech with Gomorrah by my side. Gomorrah looked at me with a slight tilt to her head, and it said something about how much time we spent near each other that I was able to read that as a question. I made the universal ''I''m on a call'' gesture towards the side of my head and she nodded in understanding. "What''s wrong? Please tell me no alien chewed on your perfect ass. I''m the only one allowed to touch it," Lucy said. I grinned. I don''t know what it was about Lucy, but every time I talked to her things just felt... easier? It was like something in my chest unknotted itself at the sound of her voice. It was nice. "Hey, so no, my perfect ass is perfectly alright. Just... had a bit of a day I guess. Not that bad, but I was babysitting newbies." "Aww, are they cute, at least?" "Eh, a little. One of them is bizarrely into me? Like in a weird way. I can''t tell if it''s sexual or if she''s just Stanning real bad, and either way it''s creeping me out. I''ve got a long ass rant saved up about it." "Ohhh, I mean, I get it, but at the same time, you''re off-limits, girl," Lucy said. I could almost imagine her leaning back against something as she listened to me get started. Fuck I wanted to kiss her so bad. "Mhm, don''t worry, she''s creeping me way out. The rest are fine. She''s got an older sister who''s nice and more sane. Though I did shoot her dad? Anyway, it''s a long story. Right now Gom, Gomorrah I mean, and I are heading out to visit another newbie. The army was going to keep putting it off for too long." "Oh, more newbies, and that whole thing sounds like a story. We should get into drinking wine so that we can be fancy while you spill!" I laughed. "I''ll look into it," I said just as I reached my mech. I put a foot on one leg, then tugged myself up but didn''t quite get into the cockpit just yet. It was more comfortable to hang off the side for now. "Anyway, I''m going to be a few hours late. But I think I''ll be taking tomorrow off. The newbies don''t need me to scour a city, and there''s better shit I could spend my time on." Not that I wanted to delay things too much. I still needed to earn points, as many as I could in the time we had left before Phobos came down on us. And then if all went well, there might be the normal delay between incursions again, like it used to be. It might be months before there were more aliens to kill besides small cleanups. How did all the top-tier samurai do it? Actually, scratch that, they did it by working for years and not dying in between. Goddamn early start advantage. "Are you zoning out again, Cat?" Lucy asked. "Oh, shit, sorry," I said. "Anyway, I''m gonna be home in... eh, two hours maybe?" "I''ll be waiting," Lucy said. "Do you want me to be wearing anything special?" she asked that last with a purr. I considered it, then sighed. "Your comfiest, fuzziest pyjamas?" I asked. Lucy awwed at me. "I will snuggle you so fucking hard," she whispered. "You have fun now! And be safe! Don''t scare the newest newbie too hard with all of your punkness." "I''ll try not to," I said before we devolved into goodbyes. Goodbyes lasted three minutes and included a lot of inane prattle, teasing, and making noises that I would literally kill to prevent anyone else from hearing. When we finally hung up, I started to pull myself up when Gomorrah flagged me down. "A minute?" she asked. "Yeah, sure, what''s up?" "I''ve been doing some research on our target," she said. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.I shook my head. "Don''t call them that, it makes it sound like we''re heading out to pop their head off or something." Gomorrah hesitated, then nodded. "That''s fair. You''re right. Anyway, the potential-Samurai. I don''t have anything on them, and Atyacus is being silent." "The whole privacy thing?" I asked. I''d run into that before with Myalis, and it was a bit of a pain in the ass. Still, it wasn''t all bad. It went both ways. No other samurai''s AI was going to spill about me and mine, and Myalis wouldn''t tell me about others. All''s fair. "Doesn''t stop you from looking into the home, right?" "I sent that drone I had surveying the new samurai today over. I have aerial on the town they''re working in. I don''t know if it actually counts as a town, really?" "How''s that?" "The place has one gas station," Gomorrah said with some level of disgust. "It''s a tiny town, no more than a thousand residents, if that many." "Huh, real small," I said. "Like a stopping point for cars travelling around?" She shook her head. "Not even. It doesn''t lead anywhere." "Wow," I said. "And our little baby samurai is hanging out there, huh?" "I wouldn''t call them a baby. We know nothing about them, they could be a grizzled old man for all we know." I scowled for a bit. "Aren''t most samurai younger? And like, disproportionately female?" Fifty-two percent biologically female, the mean age for new Vanguard is twenty-two. To be clear, that''s on Earth. "As opposed to some other world getting eaten up by the Antithesis?" I asked. Yes. "Oh." Well, that was a bucket of cold water to the head. "Alright then! Anyway, got a plan to approach the newbie? I was just gonna walk the mech over. I think it''s pretty clear that we''re not aliens, it might be a sight for sore eyes." "From what I''ve seen, they''ve set up a camp of sorts in the middle of their town, centred around an old church. They might not be willing to leave if it means leaving the civilians there behind." "Then we tell some army guys to come with, they can watch over the place for a minute while we start evacuating. The place is stable?" I asked. "Looks like it," Gomorrah replied with an easy shrug. That was good enough for me. I grabbed onto the edge of the cockpit, then pulled myself in. "Let the army know to send a little relief group over. Maybe with an escort? I''ll clear the roads out." "I''ll follow in a minute," Gomorrah said. "I think I have to make my own call. Franny and I were supposed to discuss interior decorating tonight." "Just have a lot of fireplaces or something," I said. "Actually, no, I live above you. Go for a nice water theme?" "Cute," Gomorrah said without inflection. "Get going, I''ll catch up in a minute." That was good enough for me. I sat down, remembered to clip my harness in place, then I stood the mech up to its full height and started to walk around along the outer wall of Saint-J¨¦rome. I got a surprising amount of waves from the soldiers hanging around the walls. It probably helped that I had the mech''s tail swish around and nodded its head politely to anyone who waved. It was nice to be loved, though this was a whole other kind of affection than I was used to. Or maybe not? It was kind of like having the Kittens be happy to see me, but way less personal and a lot more distant? "Fame is weird and I''m not sure if I like it," I said. A surprisingly wise sentiment coached in expectedly drab terms. "I don''t actually know what that means, but I''ll assume it''s some sort of vague insult," I said. Just a little bit. More of a backhanded compliment, really. "I ought to backhand you," I said with a grin. You''d hurt yourself. I chuckled at that, then focused a little more on the road. Myalis had pulled out a map between here and... Saint-Colomban of Medicorp. Myalis might have been in a good mood, because she started pulling up information on the place. It painted a bleak picture, especially the population graph. There was this huge dip in the mid-30s, people either dying or just leaving. The place was bought up by some LLC called Medicorp, then abandoned again. "Sounds like a nice place to grow up," I said. Better than some, worse than most. "Ain''t that how it always is?" *** Glossary: Model Six Model Six?

Enemy Classification: / / Elimination Reward: 30 Points Model Description: Model Sixes are the behemoths of the Antithesis forces. Their size and mass is similar to the average civilian minivan. They are distinguishable by their six trunk-like legs and a lack of any fur. The robustness of their build is complemented by an array of redundant organs, making them exceptionally difficult to incapacitate. Not typically command units, Model Sixes are nonetheless often found at the heart of Antithesis formations, their mere presence bolstering the offensive capabilities of the surrounding units. Artist depiction of a Model Six?

Threat Analysis Report: Model Six Threat Rating: Medium-High Overview As the living tanks of the Antithesis army, Model Sixes serve as the lynchpin for larger offensive operations. Their role on the battlefield is multifaceted, combining sheer destructive power with an uncanny ability to absorb damage that would obliterate lesser units. Threat Capabilities Destructive Power: The formidable jaw of a Model Six can crush and dismantle even the sturdiest of obstacles, be it structures or vehicles. Durability: The presence of multiple redundant organs and a tough, resilient hide renders them nearly impervious to standard weaponry. Leadership by Presence: Though not command units in the traditional sense, their placement at the core of Antithesis formations suggests a strategic purpose, rallying and leading by example. Survivability: Their incredible resilience, coupled with a formidable size, makes them one of the hardest Antithesis models to effectively neutralise. Strategic Threat Assessment Containment Difficulty: High. Neutralising a Model Six requires significant coordinated efforts and firepower, often at great risk to the attacking forces. Military and Civilian Risk: Moderate. In addition to being capable of massive destruction, their ability to reinforce and inspire other Antithesis models increases the overall threat level of any engagement. However, they struggle in tighter confines and can be herded to some degree and escaped with relative ease. Potential for Expansion: Medium. While not explicitly used for territorial expansion, their role in breaking sieges and demolishing defences facilitates the spread of Antithesis influence. Mitigation Strategies Heavy Artillery and Airstrikes: Employ the heaviest available ordnance to overcome their natural resilience. Precision airstrikes may be necessary to ensure minimal collateral damage. Focused Fire Teams: Specialised units equipped with armour-piercing and high-explosive weaponry can concentrate their efforts on exploiting any perceived weaknesses. Evacuation Protocols: In areas where Model Sixes are active, civilian evacuation procedures should be prioritised to minimise casualties. Research and Development: Ongoing analysis of recovered specimens to identify potential vulnerabilities, particularly regarding their redundant organ systems. Conclusion The emergence of Model Six on the battlefield marks a critical escalation in Antithesis offensive capabilities. Their combination of brute strength, tactical significance, and near-unparalleled durability presents a formidable challenge, necessitating a strategic response tailored to their unique threat profile. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Addendum M6-1: Transcript of Dissection Report by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Subject: Model Six Dissection Analysis Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Recording now. If ever there was a testament to the Antithesis'' mastery over life itself, it would be the Model Six lying before me. The creature''s size alone is staggering, but it''s the internal complexity that truly astonishes. Also, I got to use the big lab today! I bet I''ll get to pull out the big saw too. Or that all-stainless chainsaw we have in storage. I''ve always wanted to use that thing." [Sound of tools at work] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Each organ in the skull seems to have one or more backups, a redundancy that speaks to an incredible will to survive. The skull, devoid of skin, houses a brain protected by what can only be described as an armored casing. The eyes, small and beady, offer minimal visual input but are deeply recessed, likely to protect against damage." [Pause for notes] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "The jaw''s strength is unsurprising, given its visible musculature and bone structure, but the efficiency of its design for maximum force application is a marvel of biological engineering. It''s clear this unit was designed to withstand and deliver punishment in equal measure." [A long pause... a chainsaw revs, then blood splatter] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Oh god, wow, that''s a smell. Actually, not as bad as any human dissection I''ve done, but it''s overpowering. Like getting a faceful of freshly cut grass. Right, musculature is... dense, and the bones are moreso. Interestingly, there''s a lot of musculature on the outside, but the interior is almost empty. There are large organs filled with a sort of... hmm... wait." [A pause, then something slapping a hard surface] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Okay, I can confirm that the organs just inside the Model Six is non-newtonian. Sacs of these surround and coat the interior, and it looks like it has a sort of ventricle system to spread the liquid around. I''ll send some off to be tested. And shot. This is an interesting way of providing protection on such a large scale. I''m going to keep digging... tomorrow. My arms hurt from lifting that stupid saw. [Recording ends] End of Transcript.

Addendum M6-2: Among the forces facing the Antithesis, Model Sixes have earned numerous nicknames reflecting their daunting presence and role, including: - Siege Behemoths - Tanks - Jaws - Leviathans - Behemoths - Big Daddies - Big Puppers - Big Boys - Stompers

Addendum M6-3: Preliminary research into the redundant organ systems of Model Sixes offers promising avenues for medical and biological sciences, suggesting potential advancements in regenerative medicine and resilience to catastrophic injuries.

Addendum M6-4: Note from [][][][][][][], on [][]/[]/[][][][] The strategic deployment of Model Six units has forced a reevaluation of our defensive strategies and fortifications. Their ability to lead and reinforce other models has significantly raised the stakes in confrontations with the Antithesis. Small-arms are effective against all other single-digit models and work well into the teens. The Model Six''s presence forces us to provide anti-tank capabilities to even basic units. We suggest providing soldiers with an anti-tank weapon.

Addendum M6-5: Note from [][][][][][][], on [][]/[]/[][][][] Giving every grunt termite grenades was a bad idea. We''re now suggesting that every squad-sized unit carry at least one expendable anti-tank weapon. Chapter Nineteen - Excuse My French Chapter Nineteen - Excuse My French "The French Language is under seige! We can''t allow global unions and samurai guilds to dictate which language is standardized. We must carve out a space for French in the future, or else our language and culture might very well be lost. Culture is more important than corporate profits!" Translation from ''The Free Frenchman'' newspaper article, 2032 *** Saint-Colomban of Medicorp was more of a shithole than aerial photography had suggested. Getting to the town wasn''t all that bad. There was a road from Saint-J¨¦rome all the way over, and it was pretty much cleared of any obstacles. There was one minivan, turned onto its side with a model three ripping someone''s days-old remains out of it, but otherwise the route over was quiet. Seeing antithesis roaming around did mean that shit was still kind of fucky, though. "How long is it going to take to clear this area out?" I asked. It depends on the amount of effort put into the task. It''s very possible that it may take decades. There are some Vanguard who specialise in rooting out infections, but there are only a limited number of those. The current world-wide incursion is a result of not properly sanitising or containing previous incursions. Right, that made sense. Unlike normal incursions, this one was all over and all at once. Old hives coming alive after probably growing real slowly for years and hiding away where they wouldn''t be noticed. If we didn''t clean up after all of this, then there would just be more of those the next time this kind of incursion happened. My bet was that there would be a huge push to clean, then the bills would come in and the embezzlement, effort-to-reward ratio, and the lack of urgency would eventually do the whole project in. It wouldn''t even be a question of shooting the right politicians to get it moving. Just plain old human nature in action. "Fuck humans are stupid," I muttered. Certainly not a top-percentile species. But you''re not so bad. You''re kind of cute. Like a child that''s barely able to care for itself, but stretched out across an entire race. "Okay, ouch," I said. "Not wrong, but still, that hurt. Humanity can''t be the only awful race around, right?" No, honestly, you''re genuinely not so bad. Very middling in many ways. Physically, humanity is definitely in the lower percentiles, but you''re relatively intelligent, have a capacity for empathy, and are moderately adaptable. Just what a girl wanted to hear, that she was moderately adaptable! We came into the town limits of Saint-Colomban. I knew because there was a rusty old sign by the side of the road next to a long-defunct tollbooth that read Welcome to Saint-Colomban of Medicorp! / Bienvenus ¨¤ Saint-Colomban de Medicorp! I slowed my mech down as I approached the town some more. There was a wall around it. Not a real, proper wall, but a wall made of cars flipped onto their sides. Some of them had... something hanging off the sides on brackets. "What are those?" I asked. Judging from the serial numbers, those are lithium batteries. They seemed to be acting as an explosive deterrent for anything trying to scale the wall. Clever, I supposed. There was some barbed wire on top as well, and the line of cars stretched out to the left and right for some ways, wrapping around the centre of the town. I was pretty sure it covered most of the town, actually, because there were all of twenty buildings here. Oh, sure, the average civilian probably lived in one of the ancient farm houses I''d crossed, or in one of the mobile homes strung along the road, but the town itself was just a collection of a couple dozen more important buildings all squeezed in around a four-way intersection. I was spotted, of course, because I wasn''t trying to be stealthy. I saw some distant figures pointing at my mech, and there were a few screams as I leapt over their wall. Some two-bit eighty-year-old looking farmer jumped out of a seat nearby, spun his big old shotgun around and fired it point-blank into my mech''s side. I blinked, then carefully checked the damage readouts. "Huh, nothing," I muttered. It was buckshot. Well, that tracked. I turned the mech''s head his way, and he stumbled back, falling into his seat again while clutching his gun. I couldn''t decide between being annoyed, pissed, or just feeling bad for the guy. I settled on leaving him be when there was some noise out ahead. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Saint-Columban''s intersection had a building on every corner. A mall on one, across from that a large trucker''s gas station, then a pair of bigger buildings. One was an old medical clinic, the Medicorp logo rusting on its side. The building across from that looked like a townhall of some sort. Most of the people coming out to see what was going on were coming from the old Medicorp place. It looked like they''d turned it into living space for the locals. There were tents and mobile homes in the back, and now that I was looking, old-man-shoots-first who had pinged me with his shotty wasn''t alone. There was a ring of guys sitting on the inner side of their wall. One guy stood out, he was walking in the middle of the pack. Or rather, the pack was harassing the poor fucker. A few old ladies, some beer-bellied guys that had that strut that people who thought they were in charge had. He looked one pinched cheek away from going ballistic. His gear was newbie samurai-chic. Cool jacket, some pants with a few holsters worked into them, what looked like an armoured undersuit. He had some sort of two-pronged rifle thing slung over his back. Definitely not normie tech. "Looks like we''ve found the local," I muttered as I walked my mech over and pulled the tabs to open the cockpit. The mech''s head swung open and I stood up with it. From up there it was easy to look down on the newbie and his entourage. "Laisse-moi tranquille, calisse," he snapped at the people around him. I blinked before my aug''s, or Myalis'' auto-translate kicked in and displayed a line of text on the bottom edge of my vision. Probably Myalis, because the translation seemed more... intent-based than literal. Leave me alone, for fuck''s sake. One of the chubbies next to the newbie patted him on the back. "Tu sais qu''on est juste l¨¤ pour t''aider, petit gars." You know we''re just here to help you, little guy. Little guy (god, that''d be a terrible samurai name, the poor fuck) shook the hand away and walked closer to the mech. The entourage didn''t get the memo and stepped up after him. "Hey," I said. "I''m here to talk. Do you need this whole bunch with you?" He frowned for a moment before shaking his head. "Non, j''suis bien tout seul." No, I''m fine alone. "H¨¦, p''tit gars, on est l¨¤, t''as besoin de nous, hein?" one of the guys said. Hey, lil guy, we''re here, you need us don''t you? I cleared my throat. I didn''t have a great idea of what was going on here, but I had an inkling. The locals were being overbearing fucks. They didn''t seem to get how samurai operated most of the time. And Little Guy here was too shy to shoot them about it. "My French is a little rusty," I said. "But how do you put this... D¨¦calisse or I''ll d¨¦calisse you... uh... tabarnak?" The village idiots looked at me a little gobsmacked. Then they took in the very large mech covered in very large guns and decided that the better part of valour was not getting fucked up. They backed off, though I noticed that they still lingered some two dozen metres off. Not close enough to overhear, but... "Your fanclub is annoying," I said. "C''est pas un fan club, c''est un tas de vieux envahissants qui pensent que j''suis le nouveau J¨¦sus. Ils me cassent les pieds depuis q''tout a d¨¦rap¨¦." It''s not a fanclub, it''s a bunch of overbearing old people that think I''m the new Jesus. They''ve been riding my ass ever since shit went sideways. He looked at me, then gave me one of those guy nods, with the whole chin thrust. "Pis, t''es qui et tu fais quoi ici? T''es un samoura?, correct?" So, who are you, and what''re you doing here? You''re a samurai, right? Fuck, I was regretting not paying more attention to the Frenchies around the city when I was younger. There were a lot of them around, and they were probably the second biggest group in the city, but I didn''t run in the same circles most of the time. They were more common out east. "Yeah, I''m a samurai," I said. "I''m Stray Cat, the one coming in behind me is Gomorrah. We heard that you were here and wanted to make sure you were managing. The army''s sending some folk over to help, but they''ll only be arriving tomorrow afternoon." "Ah, bien, thank fuck," he said with the strongest accent I''d heard in a while. *** 2024 Stray Cat Strut Fanfiction Contest! Contest Rules Hello and welcome to the 2024 Stray Cat Strut Fanfiction Contest! Like last year, we''re holding a contest for fans of SCS to test their mettle, give fanfiction writing a chance, and to gain access to some neat cash prizes! This year the contest''s prize pool of $1,000USD will be split evenly across four categories:

General
Best Ongoing
Best Comedy
Best Slice of Life

Each writer can submit one story to any one of these four categories starting on the 25th of April 2024! (Yes, you can submit four stories!) Submissions will close on the 25th of May, and the final contest''s winner should be determined on the 25th of June (assuming there aren''t a million submissions!) The winners will have their story posted and/or linked on the main SCS story thread for all to see! You can submit here: https://forms.gle/MTvDJcjNqRY2gsqy7 Below are an explanation of some further rules: The categories are divided as follows: General? Best Ongoing? Best Comedy? Best Slice of Life? If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. You can find the story submission form above, but the full rules are just below: Stories must be over 1,000 words long. Very long submissions are accepted, but be aware that they might tax the judging process. Ideally, 3,000 or so words should be your upper limit. For the Best Ongoing category, a story will be judged based on its opening chapter alone. Ie: the Prologue, or Chapter One. Submissions can be made via Google Doc files. Please remember to set permissions so that everyone can read! I enjoyed leaving comments, criticism and chatting about a story as I read it, so please make this accessible if you wish. To submit a story: Send fill the form linked above! You are allowed to change, update, and refine your submission until the 25th May! Give us your best! The voting process this year will be limited to paying patreons only to avoid any tampering or confusion. As with last year the votes will be split into three steps. Each one will cut the number of submissions in half. Submissions are open to anyone! On the subject of copyright: You own yours. This contest only gives us permission to distribute your work to participants and voters. I will be asking for permission to post the four winners at the end across a wider audience! Each person can only win in one category. You can submit in multiple, but if you win in two, the second place winner of one category will be awarded the first-place prize. Each winner will be given $250 over Paypal. If that doesn''t work we''ll try to find a solution together! You need to have written the work yourself. No AI please. Though using AI for inspiration and notes is acceptable. No cover is required. Please submit the story in this format: STORY NAME - YOUR NAME. And finally, good luck! Chapter Twenty - Feed Me In The Shower Chapter Twenty - Feed Me In The Shower "There are still pockets of French people all across Canada, you just need to look for them. Try using your sense of smell, it''s sometimes more accurate than judging them visually!" --Rhubarb Pie''s Guide to Hating the French, fifth edition, 2051 *** "So, you don''t need help?" I asked. Charles, pronounced with an accent that liked to pretend that the letter R was sexier than it ought to be, shook his head. "Non, ?a va. Ouais, les locaux sont des imb¨¦ciles, mais je les connais depuis presqus toujours. J''vais m''assurer qu''ils soient en s¨¦curit¨¦, et si l''arm¨¦e peut aider, tant mieux." No, I''m okay. Yeah, the locals are idiots, but I''ve known all of them almost forever. I''ll make sure they''re safe, and if the army can help, that''s great. I nodded along. Charles, who really needed a samurai name sooner rather than later because this was getting awkward for me, seemed like a pretty down-to-Earth kind of guy. "Right, do you intend to stay around here forever, then?" I gestured at Saint-Colomban in its entirety. It wasn''t a very big gesture. Charles grinned at that. "Peut-¨ºtre qu''apr¨¨s, j''irai ¨¤ Nouveau Montr¨¦al, ouais." Maybe afterwards, I''ll go to New Montreal, yeah. I patted him on the shoulder, then took in the space. Charles decided to give me a quick tour, which really wasn''t much. The gas station was their main staging ground. Behind it was a used car dealership, which was probably where they got all of those lithium batteries to act as booby traps, and the cars used to form parts of the wall around the centre of town. Most of the civilians were sequestered to what Charles called the ''old Medicorp building.'' Well, he said it in French, but I got the idea. It was probably a nice, modern-looking building... twenty years ago. "What happened to Medicorp?" I asked. "Dead," he replied. "La compagnie est arriv¨¦e ici il y a bien longtemps, avant m¨ºme que je sois n¨¦. Ils faisaient des tests sur les enfants et les femmes enceintes dans la r¨¦gion. Mais ils fournissaient aussi des soins gratuits pour les deux." The company showed up here way back in the day, before I was born even. They were doing tests on kids and pregnant women in the region. But they provided free care for both too. "Okay, I''m assuming there''s some very sketchy shit that went down?" That''d track with... everything I knew about pharmaceutical companies. "C''est de la marde, ?a commence m¨ºme pas ¨¤ couvrir le truc. Ils essayaient de rendre les gens r¨¦sistants ¨¤ ces criss de petits vers extraterrestres qui transforment les gens en zombies." Sketchy shit doesn''t begin to cover it. They were trying to make people resistant to those little worm aliens that zombie people. "Oh, great, human experimentation? That tracks." There was no sane reason a medical company would have a location out in the middle of nowhere like this unless they wanted to be far away from prying eyes. Charles complained about a few things while giving me the tour. Mostly it was a tirade about the locals being both too eager to help and too useless to actually get anything done right. He was facing some pretty stiff resistance from older community members who''d seen him as a baby, which was... fair, actually. If one of the Kittens became a samurai I''d probably still baby them a little. Well, I was also a samurai, so I could get away with it. It would be more accurate if Lucy was the one doing the babying... which she would. "Alright, so it looks like you''ve got things... halfway under control," I said. Gomorrah had come over, but the Fury was just hovering there close to my mech. I half expected her to just drive off, but I also wanted to bum a ride back home. "Je m''arrange, et je peux g¨¦rer les choses ici sans trop de probl¨¨me. Il y a eu moins de plantes aujourd''hui. Je pense qu''on va survivre." I''m figuring it out, and I can manage things here without too much trouble. There have been less plants today. I think we''ll survive. I patted him on the shoulder, then stepped back. "Alright, well, your AI probably knows how to ping mine. Don''t be shy. And good luck." Was I being rude just leaving the kid? Probably. Was it past ten PM and was I bone-fucking-weary? Also yes. I just wanted to go home, eat something warm, take a shower, hug Lucy... it didn''t even need to be in that order. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Gomorrah lowered her car enough that I was able to hop in. "Yo," I said as I slumped into the passenger side seat. "Did that go well?" she asked with a nod in the direction of Charles, who was being surrounded by his posse again. "Pretty well. Nice-enough kid. Fuck, I''m calling him kid but he''s like, seventeen-ish? Anyway, the locals are overbearing asses, but he''s handling them well enough. He needs some space to grow, I think. Oh, and he''s super-French. He should learn English." "Maybe you should learn French?" Gomorrah suggested. "Ah, fuck, that sounds like a lot of work. They''ve got like... verbs and shit." "Catherine... no, nevermind. Are you leaving your mech here?" I shrugged. "Might as well. Army''s only arriving in the morning, right? If shit goes down, I can probably remote operate it, and it has a decent auto-pilot, it can help out if the town gets attacked overnight." I''d just recall it to Saint-J¨¦rome when I went back there. "If it helps, I don''t intend to head to Saint-J¨¦rome tomorrow," Gomorrah said. "You don''t?" "For clean-up? It''d be a waste of our time. There''s a lot we can do to prepare New Montreal for the arrival of Phobos. Even just being seen at work might help. I have some purchases to make as well. Upgrades and the like. I''m replacing my bones, which will take a moment." I blinked. Fuck, being with samurai was weird sometimes with the random shit they, we, just dropped into a conversation. "Well, have fun with that," I said with a shudder. "I guess I''ll take a day off too." "I''m not taking a day off, I''m focusing on other work." "Ah, alright," I said. That was fair, I could think of about a million things I could do tomorrow that would eat up my whole day, and half of those were just checking up on projects. Sure, like, a tenth of those things were also about hanging out with Lucy or the Kittens, but that was important too, for like... my mental health or something. "Looking forward to being home?" Gomorrah asked. Then she reached up and removed the mask covering her face. She let out a sigh of relief as she placed it on the console. "Yeah. Man, today felt like it went on forever." "Just a normal day on the job," she said. "Honestly, though, you handled it well. You''re good at the whole leadership thing." "Nah," I dismissed, but Delilah shook her head and denied my denial. "You are. You don''t want to be, maybe, but you are. You could start something with the momentum you have." I shook my head. "No. Not that I can''t, I''m pretty sure I could start something. Lucy could help, and maybe I could hire some work out to others. Grab some of the newbies we helped today to help too." "And I''d help as well, depending on your vision," Delilah said. "Well, that''s the issue. I don''t have a vision. Unless sitting at home in PJs and cuddling for the rest of my mortal life counts as a vision?" Delilah glanced my way. "You never dreamed big?" "Delilah, dreaming big, where I''m from, meant hoping that you''d get adopted by someone who wasn''t a freak or a weirdo, getting a cushy corpo job, and eating three square meals a day until your heart gives out. Dreaming really big means maybe adding an apartment of your own to that vision, maybe a kid or two if you''re inclined that way." "Oh," Delilah said. "Sorry, I sometimes forget that we had very different upbringings." "That different? I mean, I know you have family, but weren''t you raised at the convent?" "Yes, but my family are... upper-middle class, I suppose. They just wanted a well-raised daughter. Most of the girls at the convent are there from families that earn enough to be able to send their children to such a place. It''s not exactly cheap." Huh, right. It wasn''t a charity they were running, which naturally meant that it was for-profit. "For-profit religion, huh?" "Aren''t all of them? How much is god worth to you?" "That''s the edgiest shit I''ve ever heard you say, and you''ll wax poetic about burning things," I said. Delilah sniffed, but there was a slight smile there. "We''re almost home. You can hug Lucy, take a shower, and eat. Maybe all at the same time?" "Ohh, Lucy feeding me in the shower. That''d be a new one," I said. "Urgh. I regret making the joke now." I laughed until we were home. *** Glossary: Model Seven Model Seven?

Enemy Classification: / / Elimination Reward: 5 Points Model Description: Model Sevens are among the most insidious weapons in the Antithesis arsenal. These small, worm-like creatures, measuring between 5cm to 10cm in length, possess feelers that can extend up to a metre. Their primary function is to infiltrate a host body, typically through small openings or incisions, and navigate towards the central nervous system. Once lodged within the brain stem, Model Sevens take full control over the host''s motor functions, effectively turning them into ''zombies'' that can be used for combat or transported back to the hive. Artist Rendition of a Model Seven?

Threat Analysis Report: Model Seven Threat Rating: Low Overview The stealth and subtlety of Model Sevens contrast starkly with the more overt aggression of previous models. Their ability to covertly infect and control hosts makes them a paramount threat in any area suspected of their presence. Threat Capabilities Neural Hijacking: Once inside a host, Model Sevens navigate to the brain stem, where they integrate themselves and take over the host''s nervous system. Infiltration: Due to their small size they can enter an area through very small openings, making them nearly impossible to detect preemptively. Host Utilisation: Controlled hosts can perform various functions, including combat and retrieval of resources, making each infected individual a significant force multiplier. Survivability and Adaptability: Model Sevens are resilient in their ability to survive within different hosts and environments, enhancing their threat level. Strategic Threat Assessment Containment Difficulty: High. Their small size and method of infection make prevention challenging; once established, there is no known cure. Military and Civilian Risk: Extremely High. The potential for Model Sevens to turn friendly forces or civilians into enemy combatants without warning makes them a nightmare scenario for security forces. They also pose a distinct psychological threat. Potential for Expansion: Moderate. Model Sevens can rapidly turn a civilian population or military unit into a de facto extension of the hive. Mitigation Strategies Preventive Measures: Screening for and sealing of small openings in security zones to prevent infiltration. Use of protective suits in high-risk areas. Detection Technology: Development and deployment of technology capable of detecting the biological signatures of Model Sevens. Isolation Protocols: Immediate isolation of any individuals suspected of being infected to prevent further spread. Research and Development: Intensive research into biological and chemical measures to hinder Model Seven''s ability to control the nervous system. Conclusion The threat posed by Model Sevens requires rigorous security protocols and innovative detection technologies to prevent widespread infiltration and infection. Their ability to hijack host bodies makes them one of the most dangerous models encountered to date.

Addendum M7-1: Transcript of Lab Analysis by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Subject: Model Seven Analysis Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Recording now. Today, we''re examining a particularly disturbing specimen¡ªa Model Seven. Its size and appearance might not seem intimidating, but its capabilities are genuinely horrifying." [Sound of microscope adjustments] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "The feelers, which are much longer than the body itself, are covered in what appear to be sensory and adhesive cells, allowing it to navigate and adhere inside complex biological environments. The tips are serated, like tiny teeth. Once it finds the brain stem, it injects itself and begins the process of integration." The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. [Pause for notes] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "We''re testing on live pigs put in a coma and inserted into an active CAT scan. The integration is complex, involving a series of biological mechanisms that effectively override the host''s natural neural functions. From this point, the host can be controlled remotely, compelled to execute specific tasks dictated by the Model Seven." [Machine winds down] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "That was... interesting. And disturbing. I think I''ll have to refer a lot of what I''ve seen to a neurologist. They''ll have a field-day studying this thing. Ideally, if w''re going to create some sort of contra... hmm, not a contraceptive, exactly, that''ll give people the wrong idea. Anyway, some sort of anti-Model Seven agent should be possible. Tests show that the feelers are relatively fragile, and the process of connecting to a foreign nervous system can''t be anything but delicate. It''d be interesting to see a live human specimen. Not that we should." End of Transcript.

Addendum M7-2: Known colloquially among troops as: - Neural Worms - Worms - Zombie Makers - Brain Jackers - Hijackers

Addendum M7-3: Ongoing research efforts are focused on understanding the biological processes involved in the neural integration of Model Sevens. The goal is to develop a method to disrupt or reverse the control mechanisms without harming the host, though success has thus far been elusive.

Addendum M7-4: Note from [][][][][][][], on [][]/[]/[][][][] The emergence of Model Seven has necessitated a reevaluation of our medical and security protocols, particularly concerning the handling of injured personnel in areas where Model Seven activity has been reported. Extreme caution is advised to prevent accidental infections.

CLASSIFIED Addendum M7-C1: Transcript of Lab Analysis Date: [Redacted] Subject: Classified Top Secret PROTECTED CLASS A-MAJORIS Start of Transcript. Doctor ID-5816-CA1: "Hello, I''m back for another dissection of the Model Seven. It seems like more samples have been found, and so we''re returning to the dissection table. [Door sliding open and closed.] Doctor ID-5816-CA1: "Pardon, who is... this?" Proctor ID-748-CA2: "Subject Dennis Jertson, age 37, US citizen, ex Army Marine Corp." Doctor ID-5816-CA1: "Ah, I see. Hello mister Jertson. Mister Jertson?" Proctor ID-748-CA2: "He''s non-responsive. Please conduct your observation Doctor-- [Section redacted] Doctor ID-5816-CA1: "He''s... he''s alive? Wait, did you infect this man on purpose?" Proctor ID-748-CA2: "That''s irrelevant, please conduct your observations." Doctor ID-5816-CA1: "This is fucked up. Um... initial observations. Mister Jertson--" Proctor ID-748-CA2: "The subject." Doctor ID-5816-CA1: "The subject is male, approximately mid-thirties. He seems to be in good health, though he is sweating. I notice that he''s moving. If I approach..." [Sound of restraints being jangled.] Doctor ID-5816-CA1: "Right. Subject is trying to move my way. I don''t want to ask the time in infection to cloud my judgement, but from past experience this is at least an hour in. Which begs the question of how to got this deep into a secured site so quickly... I want to log a complaint, by the way." Proctor ID-748-CA2: "Noted." [Recording cuts for several minutes. Followed by a long sigh.] Doctor ID-5816-CA1: "Alright, so, back to it. Subject is... blinking one eye, interestingly. The other is locked on me but this one... is now looking at me too, interesting. [A long pause.] Doctor ID-5816-CA1: "Mister Jertson... can you... hear me?" Proctor ID-748-CA2: "He can''t." Doctor ID-5816-CA1: "Blink twice. Blink three times. Now blink... hold it close... blink. Oh fuck. He''s responding! He''s not dead!" Proctor ID-748-CA2: "Ma''am, we''re removing you from this observation. You''re compromised." End of Transcript Chapter Twenty-One - Fuzzies, Fries, Flaking Chapter Twenty-One - Fuzzies, Fries, Flaking "Bio-Meat: Nectar of the Gods is the newest and greatest skin care cream from Geniricorp! Only the best Antithesis-extract to make your skin shine!" --Genericorp Ad, 2031 *** The elevator dinged as it came to a stop on our floor. I closed my eyes, then opened them again. I was tired. Not stupidly-tired, I''d woken up late after all, but still, it had been a long day. I was itchy, I had been running around for hours, and I was sore in a few places that I wasn''t used to being sore in. That last bit was probably from riding my mech around so much, it had me sitting in a weird way and tensing some of the muscles in my core for a while. Well, whatever. The door opened onto my floor, and I started to push in only to stop as someone was standing in my path. Lucy, and she was wearing the furriest outfit I''d ever seen. She was wearing a sort of jumpsuit made of fuzzy material, with a large hoodie tugged up and over her head. It had large, floppy cat ears, and a string of bedazzled text across her chest that read "The Fuzziest." "Oh, wow," I said. Lucy grinned from ear to ear, the cat who''d caught... the other Cat? I was too tired for analogies. "Do you like it?" she asked. "I really want to hug you," I admitted. "Good! Come." Lucy reached out and grabbed my hand, my real one, in hers. She tugged me along after her, and I finally noticed that the pyjamas had a foot-long tail at the back. It was stumpy, and very cute. "I have food for you!" "Oh god, food," I murmured. As Lucy escorted me to the kitchen and I discovered four bags from four different fast food places, I discovered that I could not be any more in love. "You''re beautiful," I said. Lucy''s smile, somehow, turned even more smug. "Damn right," she murmured. "Want to know what I''m wearing under here?" I thought I was too tired to be horny, but as it turned out, I was very wrong. Maybe I was more thirsty than hungry after all. The food was junk. Burgers and fries and pseudo-chicken sticks with little plastic sachets of dipping sauce across seventeen flavours. I stuffed my face while Lucy relocated herself across from me. She stole the longest fry from one of the packets and started nibbling on the end. "Not eating?" I asked. She shook her head. "I sat at home all day, I don''t want to get fat eating all... seven thousand calories here. You at least have the excuse that you''re moving around a lot." "Hmm," I said. Lucy had always been good about that kind of stuff; dieting and the like. I was just blessed with a good metabolism and the jitters that kept me moving all the time. "This is so bad for me, isn''t it?" I asked as I chewed on what I was pretty sure was a fried stick of fried cheese. Double-fried. I could taste the cholesterol and it was beautiful. "Busy day, then? You mentioned newbies?" "Oh yeah," I said. "I think... one of them''s like, off her rocker. Girl by the name of Princess." "That''s cute, at least," Lucy said. "Yeah. She''s cute too, I guess. A bit gangly, but growing into it. She''s also got crazy eyes." "Ohhh, crazy eyes," Lucy said. "Hot but dangerous." I nodded. "Exactly. She''s got this weird obsession with me." "She''s the one who''s sister''s father you shot?" Lucy asked. She''d been paying attention to our call earlier, then. I hummed. "The mayor''s daughters," I said. Lucy gasped. "No! That''s... no way! That''s some soap opera shit, Cat." "I know!" I said before shoving a burger into my mouth. It took some chewing before I could continue. "If there''s any amount of clones, or resurrections, or... people getting pregnant after cucking someone, I''m quitting this business." Noted. I blinked. What did that mean? But Myalis didn''t seem ready to explain. I finished my burger while going over my day. I hadn''t realized that it was this stressful until I could literally feel the weight lifting off of my back. All Lucy had to do was smile, steal a few more fries, and ask a few probing questions. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. She was too good for me. "Shower next?" she asked. She fluttered her eyes in a way that made my heart flutter too. "Only if you''ll join me," I said with a grin. Lucy laughed, then ran ahead of me. I caught up with her in our bedroom, grabbing her from behind in a hug that pulled her close to my chest. I peppered her neck and the side of her face with kisses while she continued to laugh, then Lucy turned in my grasp and started to remove my suit. Which was when we both realized that the new skin I was wearing came with a nasty side-effect that I''d kinda forgotten about. Notably, that my old skin was peeling right off of me. "Oh, fuck," I said. The inside of my suit was covered in a fine, goopy dust. I retched. I was expecting to maybe be a little sweaty but... not this. "Oh, that''s nasty," Lucy said. "Yeah, sorry, shower first, and alone. I''m gonna go get like... a sponge. Also, I''m not cleaning your suit!" The last was called back over her shoulder as she slipped away. "Fuck, I forgot," I muttered as I slipped over to the bathroom. There was no way I was gonna let all of this skin fall off onto the floor. That was gross. "Hey, my suit''s waterproof, right?" Yes. From the inside and without. "Great," I said as I started the shower and got in fully-clothed. The fact that there was some antithesis blood that pooled off of me was also kind of gross, but not nearly as bad. I stripped, aware of the strange and disgusting pull of my suit against my skin. Lucy returned brandishing a sponge that I recognized from next to the sink (which meant it had never been used) and... "Is that a toilet cleaner?" I asked. "It''s a necessary evil," Lucy said. "Is it new?" I asked next. "New enough?" "No!" I said, putting my metaphorical foot down. My actual feet were still caught in the legs of my skinsuit. The irony of that name wasn''t escaping me at the moment. I managed to slough out of the suit and let it flop wetly in the corner of the shower. I''d give it a good hose-down later. I did accept the sponge from Lucy and started to scrub away at myself. It stung like a bitch. "You never told me of the downsides of this," I said to Myalis. It''s a moderate amount of dirtiness. The skin was your skin just moments ago and is no more dirty than you usually are. It''s mostly inert organic material. Nothing you need to worry about. "It''s still gross," I said. "Is it at least done? The skin-shedding, I mean." It should be. Your newer, more resilient skin will, of course, shed at a much-reduced rate. Wow, I never wanted to have this conversation again. The only plus side was that I was basically hairless now. No more shaving my legs, which was nice. I settled under the warm water, then once I was done scrubbing myself raw, I tossed the sponge aside and punched the air a few times. "What are you doing?" Lucy asked from just outside the shower. "I''ve got new nerves," I said. "I''m testing them a little. I mean, I''ve had them for a day now. I think I''ve just... gotten used to them? It doesn''t feel that different." Humans will adapt to such changes with startling rapidity. I wasn''t so sure about that. It had taken me months to get used to only having one arm. Then again, maybe that was pretty fast? "Yeah, I guess this feels pretty good," I said. "I mean, I don''t mind the show," Lucy replied. "Very jiggly. They should put naked shadow-boxing on TV." "Bet you anything they have," I said. Lucy didn''t take the bet. I stumbled out of the shower and into Lucy who was holding out a big towel from the ends. She wrapped me up in a hug, climbing onto the tips of her toes to smush her cheek against mine. "Thank you," she said. "For what?" I asked. "For making it back safe again." She turned her head a little and gave me a peck on the cheek. "You smell much nicer now," she said. "Not that I really mind it when you smell like gunpowder and smoke. It''s kinda hot." "Is it, now?" I asked. "Mhm. I never did show you what I was wearing under these pyjamas, did I?" Lucy asked. It was nothing. *** Chapter Twenty-Two - Lazy Pillow Talk Chapter Twenty-Two - Lazy Pillow Talk "Just because a Samurai has an impossibly powerful AI at their beck and call does not mean that the impossibly powerful AI is there to do the Samurai''s bidding. They''re kind of smart enough to not care about little human issues." --Three Swipes, 2034 *** So, as it turned out, having whole new nerves made sexy-time with Lucy a whole lot more... intense than usual. Which might have explained why I woke up to find Lucy sitting up against the top of the bed, looking impossibly smug even though her hair was a mess and her new fluffy pyjamas were stretched out. "Good morning," Lucy said. "Or should I say ''oh god oh god'' morning?" "Stooooop," I whined as I turned over and buried my face into Lucy''s stomach. The pyjamas really were sinfully soft. Maybe the new skin helped with that too, or the nerves. In either case, I never said no to the opportunity to rub up against Lucy. "Do you have a long day planned today?" Lucy asked. "No, I''m staying in bed all day," I said. "And tomorrow too, and the day after. In fact, I''m just not leaving." I can see that quickly growing unsanitary. "Shush, Myalis, you''re a key part of this plan," I said. Lucy giggled, which made her abs bounce. Her hand alighted on my head and she started to comb her fingers through my hair. "I don''t think we can stay in bed forever. What will we do for food?" "Order out," I said. "It''s easy. The kittens can carry it to us." Lucy hummed. "Okay, and exercise? We''re going to grow all weak if we stay in bed all day." I turned my head so that I could meet her eyes. "I can think of one or two ways to do cardio in bed," I murmured. Lucy laughed and poked my cheek. "Silly. What about the washroom?" I groaned. "Diapers?" "Ew, Cat, that''s gross," Lucy said. I''m assuming some elaborate system of catheters and a cocktail of medication is unfavourable? "Oh, no, that''s... Myalis, you''re ruining my plans," I said as I spun over. Now my head was on Lucy''s lap. The bed was so big that my feet weren''t even over the edge even though I was parallel to Lucy on it. Good. I don''t want a lazy Vanguard. "Is Myalis being a bully?" Lucy asked. Tell her the truth. "Yes," I said. "She doesn''t want me to spend the rest of my life in bed, Lucy. She doesn''t love me the way you do." "I don''t know, I think I''m okay with you not spending your life in bed too," Lucy said. I gasped and pressed a hand over my heart. "Lucy, no," I said. "I wouldn''t be alone. You''d be in bed with me forever too!" "But I have to pee," Lucy whined. "Nope! No leaving, you''re stuck here forever. I said so, and I''m bigger and stronger and I know all of the spots where you''re ticklish." I wiggled my fingers and Lucy gasped at the betrayal. Suffice to say, it took another hour before we got out of bed, and it really only happened because Lucy was cry-laughing and had to run to the washroom. I checked the time on my augs as I sat on the edge of our bed. "So, what''s on the agenda for today?" I asked. This might surprise you to learn, but I''m not actually your secretary. "Urgh, I know. I should buy like, some secretary software or something." I could get you something like that. The Scheduling Software catalogue is a mere fifty points, and the most basic software package is relatively inexpensive. I flopped backwards onto the bed so that I was staring at the ceiling again. "Why is that even a thing?" I asked. Because it might be useful? Logistics are important. "I guess. I meant more... like, there''s catalogues for all sorts of things, right? But aren''t most of them for killing aliens and keeping people alive?" Of course not. Those are merely the catalogues most frequently purchased and used by Vanguard, which only makes sense seeing as how the average Vanguard spends a statistically important amount of time in and around combat. The actual marketplace contains trillions of non-combat related items. From home goods to foods to comfort items. "So do, like, the average citizens of elsewhere have the same access I have?" I asked. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. No. That would be irresponsible. Well, that was something. I flexed and sat up again, then finally stood. It was ten minutes to noon, which meant that if I didn''t get up and moving now I wouldn''t be able to claim to have started my day in the morning. "Alrighty," I said. "Breakfast, while it''s still technically time for that, then... shit, I have a lot to do today, don''t I?" I wasn''t sure where to start. Checking up on the newbies was somewhere on the list, but they didn''t need me to mother them, and I''d be going back to Saint-J¨¦rome tomorrow. I was sure they could manage to burn the place down while I wasn''t there to keep an eye on them, but I doubted it. Tankette and Hedgehog were too responsible. So, more local problems, then. The sewers needed checking up on, the Family needed to be poked at to make sure they weren''t fucking up, and my prosthetics clinic a floor down had to be looked into. Yeah, that all made some sense, but probably not in that order. Clinic first, since it was an elevator ride away and I could check up on it relatively quickly. It''d be one thing off the list right away. "Ah, fuck, I need to look into Racoon too," I muttered. She''s in the building now. I blinked, then tapped into my augs. Myalis, being somewhat helpful for a non-secretary, pulled up Racoon''s location which was in the armoury next to the matter reconfiguration machine. She was glaring at a heap of fuzzy pyjamas and stacking them off to the side. Alright, new plan! But first, food. Lucy was already cooking things in the kitchen, humming a happy little tune and shaking her hips from side to side while pre-made omelette mix fried and popped in a pan on the stove. I watched her hips swaying, and the little tail on her pyjamas bounced from side to side for a while before I came up behind her and gave her a hug. "Hungry," I said. "You are so whiny today," she said as she tilted her head back to give me a kiss. "I''m suffering from success," I said. "It''s unbelievably hard." "I bet," she said. "Now scooch, and grab a plate, this is almost done." I grabbed a bowl instead, the superior food receptacle, and gladly accepted the omelette Lucy rolled into the bowl. I poured an unhealthy amount of ketchup on top of it all before digging in. "Plans for the day?" Lucy asked. She sat across from me and I was momentarily distracted by the zipper on the front of her pyjamas being very open. "Yeah, a few things to look into. The clinic downstairs, the sewer situation. Shit that needs to be watched before it falls apart." "Oh, don''t forget the imminent end of the world," Lucy said. "With that Phobos rock." "Oh yeah, that too," I agreed. I hoped that someone had come up with a plan for that already. It kind of felt like it was big enough that it was a problem way out of my jurisdiction. I finished shovelling food into my mouth, then wiped my face clean. "I''m gonna get dressed," I said. "Then... I think I might bully Racoon into coming with? That girl needs a good influence in her life." "And that''s you?" Lucy asked teasingly. "I came out alright." I said with a grin. Of course, as I went to get dressed, I discovered the skinsuit I''d left in the bathroom, still full of... me. That wasn''t going to cut it. Sure, I could clean it, but nothing short of Delilah going at it with her flamethrower would leave that clean enough for me. "Hey, I bought a blueprint for skintight armour, right?" I asked. You did. Specifically for Racoon to armour herself. Right. There''d been some vague plan to make okay-enough armour available for anyone that might need it. "Well, might as well check in on that printer after all. I don''t think I ever had to use it myself, now that I think about it." Rac was still in the printer room when I came in. She blinked and stared at me, then nodded. "Hi," she said. "Hey," I replied. "I need a new set of armour. Are you using the machine?" "I''m... not? I was going to make bullets, but that can wait. Are you just wearing a t-shirt?" "I slept in it," I said. "It''s past noon." "I had a long night?" Maybe convincing Rac that I was put-together enough to serve as a good influence was going to be harder than I had initially expected. *** Chapter Twenty-Three - Dr. Myalis, Medicine AI Chapter Twenty-Three - Dr. Myalis, Medicine AI "The International Air Quality Index, IAQI, or "Yacky", is an internationally accepted standard for the air quality in and around various metropolitan areas across the world. For example, Paris, France has an IAQI of 4.5, whereas Novaya Moskva has an IAQI of 5.1. The pre-Antithesis Chad had an IAQI of 5.2, and the current North African Exclusion Zone has an IAQI of 7.6. In contrast, the Antarctic circle, unaffected by most pollutants and about as pure as air can be on Earth--mostly seeing as how the air pockets in that region come from freshly melting ice!--has an IAQI of 2.1! Pure, fully-filtered air in a medical operating room has an ideal IAQI of 2.0!" --International Air Quality Index brochure, 2054 *** I eyed Rac properly for a minute or so. I''d like to think that I was pretty decent at sniffing out when someone wasn''t in the best of shape. Rac looked... well, not that bad. She''d slept recently, judging by the lack of bags under her eyes. Still, she still looked like she was too thin, and too small for her age. "Have you been eating?" I asked. "Yeah," she said, instantly sounding defensive in a way that told me she wasn''t. Or maybe... "Like, actual food?" Rac crossed her arms. "Coco always made sure that we ate before and after a mission," she said. "She had these disgusting protein-shakes she insisted I drink." Coco, the large gorilla-modded woman who''s crew Rac had joined. There was a lot of past-tense in that whole statement. "Are you still working with her and the others? Spider and... what was that other guy''s name? The one you had a crush on?" "I didn''t have a crush on anyone," she lied. "And it was Garter." "Was?" Rac crossed her arms. "Was." I decided not to poke at that too much, it felt like she might be a bit raw about it still. So instead I walked over to the printer and tapped the touch-screen on the front of it. The printer had a pretty easy UI, with no ads popping up or demands to join some subscription or whatever. It didn''t take much to navigate the menus over to armours, then armoured skinsuits. The problem was when I clicked on one of the options that looked decent and was then prompted to fill in some ''basic'' information. Information like my bust size, waist size, the circumference of my thigh, around my knee, my calf, the length of each leg, the kind of arch on my foot... honestly I just kept scrolling down in growing horror. This was asking for about eighty measurements. "Oh, yeah, it''s like that," Rac said. "I have a measuring tape somewhere." "Why?" I asked "Because it''s not one-size fits all?" Rac asked. "It''s made for one person only." "Damn, bespoke shit huh? Actually, that''s kind of what I''ve gotten used to with Myalis... speaking of which. Myalis, bit creepy to ask, but do you have my measurements?" I don''t think it''s necessarily creepy in context. You wouldn''t think that a medical professional being aware of your blood sugar or cholesterol levels or body weight is ''creepy'' would you? "Yeah, but you''re not my doctor. Not that I''ve ever had one. Wait, are you what it''s like to have a doctor?" I asked. Rac was giving me a look now, but I ignored it. Let me just input the data for you. The page I was on auto-filled and I smiled smugly at the victory before pressing on print. The machine clunked, then hummed, and I got to see a 3d scan of the skinsuit being made on the screen. It was pre-folded into a small package already. A timer popped up, and I blinked at it. "Forty minutes?" "That seems reasonable?" Rac said. "It''s fast for a print of something that''s that good." "Yeah, but that''s forever. Urgh. Come on, Rac, you need to eat, and I don''t feel like waiting alone." Rac''s expression was unreadable as I tugged her along after me. We returned to the main part of the house, then into the kitchen. It was mostly empty, except for a single kitten sitting at the island in the centre of the room and staring off into space. "Heya, Nose," I said. Nose turned my way, then smiled. "Hi Cat," he said. "Hi Rac. Are you becoming a kitten too?" "No," Rac denied immediately. "Okay," he said. "Cat, you need to help me." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "With what?" I said as I abandoned Rac by the counter and opened the fridge. It was filled to the brim with leftover bags from about seven different delivery places. Interestingly, one of them was from the Burlington branch of Lucy''s Kittens. Did... did they do delivery all the way here? Nose took a deep breath from his, well, nose, then turned to face me. "The others don''t want to play in the same room as me anymore. I have to sit here and play on my augs. Bargain started it." "That sounds dickish, what, you letting some nasty farts rip in the same room as them?" I asked. Was Nose the one who was lactose intolerant? Not that we got lots of stuff to eat with actual milk in it. Nose shook his head. "No! Just because I sneezed in his face." "That''s disgusting," Rac said. "It was an accident!" Nose replied. "I''m not used to my nose tingling so much!" "Was it just the one time?" I asked. He squirmed in his seat. "They kicked me out after the sixth... seventh? I don''t know, I wasn''t counting." "Yeah, gonna agree with Rac on this one, that''s nasty," I said. "Did you at least cover your mouth?" "It''s too sudden," he complained. "Daniel told me to wear a mask, but I hate those." It could be an after effect of his healing. From the records I have, Nose''s olfactory system had a significant amount of damage, both from his environment, poorly implemented stopgap cures, and from genetic damage caused to him before birth. The nanorepair suite that cured him also likely left his nerves somewhat raw. I nodded as I continued to search for something to eat. How could the fridge be so full and yet so empty at the same time? "Myalis says that it''s because your nose is too new," I said. That is inaccurate. "It''ll probably pass in a bit. Maybe go take some air to burn your new nerve endings?" I would strongly suggest the opposite. The air quality of New Montreal is exceptionally poor. Given time he will likely lose the reflexive sneezing action. It should be fading already. "Actually, scratch that. Just... keep on keeping on, and stop sneezing in people''s faces. Learn to cover up." Nose grumbled, but he didn''t gainsay me about it. "Ah, come on, the others won''t kick you to the curb about it, they''re just being dicks. If they don''t stop you can hire Rac here to kick their asses. She''s a big fancy merc you know? I bet she''d work for food." "I... wouldn''t," she said, very unconvincingly. I grinned as I laid out a healthy breakfast for Rac and she eyed the food as if she was starving and hadn''t eaten in a week. "Let''s see about that. What were your plans for the day, by the by?" "I didn''t have much?" she said, uncertain. "Cool! You can tag along, then." "Is that smart?" she asked. "You''ve got some armour, right? Carry that big gun of yours and get some face covering on and no one will mess with you." "You can''t just go anywhere while armoured and armed," she said. I snorted. "It''s easier to get some places with arms and armour," I said. "But in any case, you''ll be with me. No one will bother you." "Why do you want me to come?" she asked. That actually gave me pause. Did I need Rac to come along? No, not really. In fact, it might slow me down and complicate things, if anything. On the other hand, I wouldn''t mind the company and... I liked Rac. She reminded me of my second favourite person; myself. Only somehow Rac''s situation was even worse, because I at least had Lucy and the other orphans to lean on and give me a purpose, and Rac had nobody. "Just... trust me?" I said. I didn''t have a good reason, really, but it might be good for her anyway. Open some doors, meet some people, maybe give her the contacts and know-how she''d need to do... whatever it was she was aiming for. Something told me that Rac wouldn''t be able to hang around here forever without developing a bit of empathy. Maybe this would get her to finally open up and help others along the way? Or something like that. Honestly, I kind of just wanted company, and bringing Lucy along would be a recipe for disaster. Gomorrah was busy with her own stuff, and the Kittens were mostly too young. Daniel could come, maybe, but I got the impression he was into his own stuff. I nodded, confirming my choice. "Yup! This is gonna be a fun afternoon, trust me," I said. *** Chapter Twenty-Four - The Second Hand Clinic Chapter Twenty-Four - The Second Hand Clinic "Insurance got you down? Try Insur-Insurance! New from Divided Health Group! Our new Insur-Insurance program kicks in the moment any of your normal insurance programs fail to cover your insurance needs! We cover 100% of legal fees and will do our best to assist you in combating your insurer to get what you paid for!" --Divided Health Group Ad, 2027 *** Once I made sure Rac was fed, took care of Nose''s problem like a champ, and then took five minutes to squeeze into my new skinsuit armour, I was mostly ready to go. I strapped on my Trenchmaker to my thigh, got an armoured coat on--I''d be moving around a lot and power armour was a bit much--and then clipped my sword to my side, in case I needed to be intimidating. "Ready to go?" I asked as I slipped out of the bedroom. "I''ve been ready for an hour," Rac said. She was leaning against a wall, arms crossed and looked frustrated as all hell. "You haven''t told me where we''re going yet." I nodded, then stopped in front of her and looked Rac up and down. She was wearing a patch-covered faux-leather jacket. The kind that wasn''t even trying to hide that it wasn''t made from a dead animal. The patches weren''t to look cool, they were functional. Still, even with the stains and all, the jacket came off as... scrappy. She had shorts on under that, and one of Lucy''s T-shirts. This one with a winking cat face and text that said Strut My Way. I wasn''t even sure what that meant. Under all that, and sticking out to her ankles and wrists, was a skinsuit. The armoured sort, with some light padding on the knees. Big boots too, with a knife stuck into the side of one of them. Yeah, she looked like a new samurai. If no one poked at her disguise too hard, or questioned her, or tried to hack her augs. "Hey, Myalis, did I ever buy new augs for the Kittens?" I asked aloud. "Should I get a blueprint for that kind of thing?" You did. Your current fabricator won''t be able to produce augmentations. While it can make small-scale circuitry, the level of detail needed to make an augment that fits within a person is beyond the capabilities of the machine. Strictly speaking, it could make augmentations at the level you''d expect to find on the market right now, but it couldn''t make them easily installable the way those you''ve purchased for yourself are. That was too bad. Lucy and I had talked a little last night, and her project in Burlington was somehow still going strong. The city was mostly secured now, with no incidents of aliens showing up to eat anyone in almost three days. Still, the Kittens militia was growing as a sort of community centre type thing. Lucy was making and shipping crap their way whenever she could. Usually one small box of random crap every day. She said it kept them happy, even if there was no way the stuff she sent was more than a drop in the bucket. Now, with the fabricator being used for prosthetics, Rac''s stuff on the side, Lucy''s constant stream of T-shirts and fuzzy pyjamas... Yeah, I had enough pull here to start a small business just printing things full-time. Maybe I could get Daniel and the other kittens in on it too. They''d need jobs at some point. Rac was taking care of it for now, but right now it was just the one machine. "Anyway," I said with a big stretch. "Let''s head out?" "Head out to where, exactly?" Rac asked. "First, one floor down. I want you to meet See-Three. She''s the chick in charge of the prosthetics centre we''re setting up." Rac eyed me, but didn''t gainsay me as we moved over and into the elevator. One floor down, as promised, and we were on that open floor with the gutted offices. It didn''t all look bad, though. Someone had pushed some furniture around since I''d last been down here and another someone had gone at the floors with a mop and had assaulted the carpets with a vacuum. The clinic was just around the corner from the elevator, and I paused along with Rac to take it in. There was a new window at front with an arching, old-timey logo etched into the glass. The Cat''s Paw Prosthetics Clinic. "Huh," Rac said. "You did this?" "Nope! Well, I mean, it happened because of me, but mostly because I fucked up and rushed to fix that fuckup. Actually, you know what, I take none of the blame. Someone else fucked up and I had to clean it up, but I didn''t do a great job of it. One thing led to another, and I figured I owed a lot of people some new limbs." This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. "I''ve been printing them like you asked," Rac said. "There must be a couple hundred made by now." "Yeah," I said. "Now, let''s see if they''re being put to good use?" We walked over to the clinic and stepped in. The lobby was clean, which was nice. Obviously it was the same decor that had been used for the office here before, but that wasn''t all that bad for a clinic. Some chairs were filled with a few scruffy looking guys and one or two people that looked... like ordinary folk, really. There wasn''t a secretary behind the counter, but I knew we were seen when See-Three came rushing into the room from the back. "Stray Cat," she said. "Hey," I replied. "Uh, this is Rac, the girl who''s been printing things for me upstairs. Rac, this is See-Three, she does prosthetics." That last was probably obvious. See-Three''s right arm was currently missing from the elbow-down, replaced by... some contraption with about fifteen little articulated arms with different nibs on the ends. Plus, the face. See-Three''s triple-optical look was hard to misplace. "Pleasure, I hope you don''t mind if we don''t shake?" "That''s fine," Rac said. She looked a bit uncomfortable at all the naked cyberware on display. "So, is this a check up?" See-Three asked. I nodded. "I wanted to make sure things were still good here," I said. "Are they?" She grinned. "They are, come on back, I''m just finishing up an install. We still lack staff. I''ve got a few friends who are into cybermodding as a hobby, of course, but it''s not every hobbyist that wants to turn it into a job. Not to mention that the pay''s shit and we''re not accredited." "Is that a problem?" I asked. "For insurance, yeah. It is. If you do work on others without insurance accreditation, then they can blacklist you as a non-compliant. Basically, all of your personal insurance costs quadruple because you''re working outside of their ecosystem." "Huh... that''s fucked up. Have you considered pipe bombing that insurance company?" "Several times. But they all do this," she said. "And it makes sense. We''re cutting into their business. Anyway, lots of hobbyists are also blacklisted for breaking DRMs and such. It happens in the hobby." She brought us to a room in the back, clearly someone''s office at some point, but it had been cleared out, with a plastic tarp divider strung up along one wall to keep the blood splatter at bay. A guy was on a reclining seat, breathing deeply through a mask fit onto his face with a little inhaler-like tube on the side, like for asthma. "Is he... knocked out?" "More or less," she said before gesturing to his arm. It ended midway down his lower arm. There was a plastic sleeve, and then a bunch of bare metal doohickies and small contacts. "Your prosthetics are very... plug-and-play? It''s different than what any of us are used to. Easier to install though." "That''s good," I said. "Yeah," she agreed before pulling a box open. I recognized it as one of these from the printer upstairs. The arm within was plain, a bit boring, but it was an arm. And then See-Three broke it. She snapped a fitting apart, then unscrewed another bit with ease, her little articulated armatures undoing a strip of the upper arm just before the elbow. She was left with a little less than half. "See? It''s pretty easy to strip off entire sections until you''re left with what you need. Took a bit of getting used to, but I don''t need to chop off someone''s arm at the shoulder to install one of these. The interface is whatever, but the software is very compatible with just about everything on the market." "So it''s good?" I asked. "It''s alright," she said. "Hardcore body modders will have better, but only because they''ll be looking to get every last half-percent out of their gear. This isn''t as tweakable." "Well, damn. So, how''s everything else going?" She sighed. "Right, let me just tell you." I sensed that I was either in for bad news, or a long ass rant, and I wasn''t sure which one would be worse. *** Glossary: Model Eight Model Eight?

Addendum M8-1: Transcript of Field Observation by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.Subject: Model Eight Field Behavior Analysis Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Recording now. Observing a Model Eight in its natural operational environment provides unique insights into its role within the Antithesis ecosystem. The efficiency with which it navigates underground and processes materials is both fascinating and horrifying. Honestly, it''s nice to be able to study one of these in its natural habitat. It''s only because they worm-like bastard doesn''t seem to want to eat anyone, but still. Can''t wait to dissect this guy once the observational study is done." [Sound of distant rumbling] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "The growths covering its body aren''t just for show¡ªeach one houses digestive enzymes capable of breaking down almost any material it consumes. This not only recycles dead models but also prepares the ground for further hive expansion. It can eat through concrete and bare metals as well, though with some difficulty." [Pause as the creature passes] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Its movements are surprisingly quiet for its size, a testament to its design for stealth and efficiency. The implications for human infrastructure are significant; unnoticed, a Model Eight could undermine key facilities, leading to catastrophic failures. Big peaceful lump that it is, this guy''s still a threat." [Recording ends] End of Transcript.

Addendum M8-2: Among those familiar with Antithesis units, Model Eights are often referred to as: - Worms - Diggers - Earthworms - Recycling Worms - Burrowers - Hive Carriers

Addendum M8-8: Note on Ecological Impact Environmental scientists have raised concerns about the broader ecological impact of Model Eight tunnelling. In regions heavily infested by Model Eights, there have been significant alterations to the soil composition and groundwater pathways. These changes have led to secondary effects on local flora and fauna, complicating conservation efforts and altering natural ecosystems in unpredictable ways. Ongoing studies aim to assess the long-term consequences of these disruptions and to develop strategies to mitigate negative environmental impacts. Chapter Twenty-Five - Hundred Burgers With Fries And Drink Chapter Twenty-Five - Hundred Burgers With Fries And Drink "#357EC7. This is the most infamous colour of the techworld. It is the colour used for the Blue Screen of Death. Multiple companies have attempted to replace it with their own mark. Their stocks went down. Microsoft themselves have tried multiple times. They no longer exist. Samurais have tried. Their OSes didn''t catch on. Unless they used #357EC7." --TechNews WorldWide Article, 2038 *** "Bad news?" I asked. See-Three made a dismissive gesture. "Not so much bad, just news. Actually... yeah, news." "What''s that supposed to mean?" I asked. "The weird emphasis, I mean." "Well, news has gotten around about the clinic," See-Three said. She leaned down and grabbed a rag from under the hospital bed, then used it to wipe the area around the prosthetic she''d just installed. "It''s not a bad thing, but it made the rounds quick. You gotta understand, the body-modder community is huge, but it''s also pretty tightly knit? It''s a hobby that''s either super expensive, or demands a lot of time. And people are dedicated about it." "What''s that got to do with the news spreading fast?" I asked. "Free prosthetics would be huge already. Free Samurai-grade prosthetics? Even if they''re not top-of-the-line? Yeah, every modder in New Montreal knows, and more than a few would be willing to trade two limbs for one of these." She tapped the box the arm had come in, which still had a shoulder and a bit in it. "Shit, are we worried about robbery again?" See-Three blinked all three eyes, which really just meant flicking them on and off quickly. "No. Stray Cat, this is in your basement, basically. And it''s a floor above another Samurai''s home. There''s rumours that the rest of the building has samurai in it too." Her head turned very slightly towards Rac, then back to me. Right, I was probably feeding those rumours, wasn''t I? Well, that couldn''t hurt too much. "Plus you did shoot the mayor, and tracked down the last bunch that stole shit from you, so your rep''s pretty solid. No one wants to mess with Gomorrah either." "She has a better rep?" I asked. "She lights aliens on fire while laughing," See-Three said. "She doesn''t need to be seen executing someone in public for people not to want to fuck with her." Fair. "Okay, so news is spreading, that''s good no?" I asked. "We want to help people. We mostly want to help the ex-Sewer Dragons first, but I don''t mind keeping this up afterwards. I don''t think it would cost too much to keep the printer fed for this. We''re talking... what, a couple of bucks per prosthetic?" See-Three nodded. "Yeah. We''re accepting tips right now, and we''ve already made over a hundred thousand credits." I stared. "How much?" That sounded like a lot. That was... like, a hundred burgers with fries and a drink. She shrugged. "It''s less than you''d think? We need a lot of consumables to keep operations running. Anyway, the issue is that the clinic''s too popular on the Mesh. We set up a site for people to sign up for operations. It crashed because too many people were applying. We''re way too popular." "How many applicants?" I asked. "Thirty thousand, last time I checked," See-Three said. "Fuck," I muttered. "How many operations can you do in a day?" "That really depends. Yesterday was our most productive day yet, but keep in mind we''re still setting up. We got through twelve, but half of those were single and partial replacements. Like what I just did. We did a four-limb replacement job this morning, on one of those people the Sewer Dragons messed up. It was a nightmare. Took three solid hours." Assuming twelve a day, thirty thousand... uh, that was a lot of days. And while See-Three was sure news got around, that was in the body-modder community. There would be others. I wasn''t even sure if we had gotten in touch with all of the former Sewer Dragons and their victims yet. That alone could take a few weeks since most of their operations would be on the more complicated side. "Shit," I said. "I... don''t know what to do. We could expand some, I guess." See-Three shook her head. "You could turn this entire floor into one big hospital, hire half a hundred techs and doctors and nurses, not to mention additional staff, do a hundred ops a day, and you''d still have a backlog going back years." Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. "That''s not as comforting as you might think," I said. She shrugged. "You''re doing good here. Don''t beat yourself up because the good you''re doing isn''t fixing everything for everyone all at once. We''re putting together a sort of lottery system that''s mostly fair. Sewer Dragons have weighted results, so we''ll get through them faster. The rest of the world will have to deal." "So you don''t want to expand?" I asked. "I didn''t say that. But I also don''t think we can handle a whole hospital. There''s room for a second operating room here, and the rest of the facilities can work to support two ongoing ops at once. That''s a nice level to aim for, I think." Shit, someone being reasonable? I wasn''t used to that, and frankly had no idea how to handle it for a moment before I realized that... yeah, there was nothing to handle about it. "Okay then," I said. "Any other issues?" "Your cat drones scare some people," See-Three said. She grinned. "But I don''t think it''s too big of a problem. It keeps people on their toes and might make some idiots think twice before messing around." "You''ve seen a lot of them around?" I asked. "They come out of the elevator, walk around, sometimes scratch themselves like real cats. One of them fell asleep on a vent for a while. Or... went on standby? They don''t have organic components, do they?" "Not as far as I''m aware," I said. "Oh, okay then. I guess it''s just mimicking cat behaviour. Cute," she said. "Anyway, they wander around. Then go invisible when no one''s looking. I only caught on because my eyes are broad-spectrum and can see into more bands than you''d expect." She tapped herself on the side of the head. "Heh, alright. I''ll keep an eye on the dumbasses. Uh, that''s their name," I said at her confused look. "At least, the smaller, chonkier ones? I don''t know if we ever named the ones that look like tigers." I gestured at about hip-height. There were a few of those around guarding Lucy and the kittens and I supposed this floor too. See-Three stared. "I didn''t see any like that." "Huh, well, they do have better stealth tech, I think." She nodded slowly. "I''ll let the others know." "Alright, cool. I''ll be pretty busy for the next bit, but swing me a message if anything happens. I''d rather find out early rather than have to come around and fix things later, you know?" I extended a hand to shake, realized that her hand was... not in a condition to be shaken at the moment, and let my arm drop awkwardly by my side. "You busy for the rest of the day, then?" I asked as See-Three started to escort us towards the lobby. "Nah, not with this work. Got a buddy that''s a tech coming in for a few easy switches. Got some folks here that need repairs that aren''t full replacements, but I think with your name and rep attached they find it safer here? Anyway, it''s small stuff that just needs someone who knows what they''re doing to look at it. Like doing an oil change, you know?" "Sure," I said. "So heading home?" "Nah. Got to do a mental defrag on my augs. That''ll put me down for a few hours and I''d rather do it in a clinic than alone at home. If something goes haywire I have a few friends that know what to reboot. I lost a couple of friends to bloatware and more friends to poorly sanitised clean-up jobs with prosthetic software. It''s a dangerous hobby sometimes." "Not sure I''d just call it a hobby when it''s this... severe," I said. "But you do you." With that, I said my goodbyes to See-Three, then elbowed Rac to do the same. It was only polite, and I was nothing if not polite. We left the clinic, and I noticed Rac staring in the middle distance for a while, at least until we reached the elevators. "You''re helping," she said. "We''re helping," I corrected. "This shit''s helping a lot of folks, but I just spent the points. You did more here than I have, trust me." Rac glanced up at me for a moment, then nodded. "You''re more humble than I expected." "Damn right I am." I patted her on the back. "So, next stop is... the Family. They''re a weird bunch. Just keep eye contact to a maximum and try to project the thought that you could explode all of them and they''ll be easy to handle." "I''m not feeling so confident all of a sudden," Rac said. "Nah, it''s fine. They love me!" *** Chapter Twenty-Six - Even In Death I Serve My Waifus Chapter Twenty-Six - Even In Death I Serve My Waifus "Games aren''t portals to infinite worlds, where players dance with imagination, conquer fears, and craft their own destinies, all while forging connections and finding joy in the art of play. They''re magic money printers. Now, how can we better separate the player from their cash?" --Electronic Artists CEO, 2031 *** The Family didn''t look like they loved me. Rac and I took my bike over. It was fast, and while it wasn''t the most comfortable ride for a passenger... well, I wasn''t the passenger. Rac held on tight, and she complained about it being chilly, but she was wearing a skintight suit that was pretty damned well insulated. The ride over to the Family''s headquarters was pretty fast, but not as fast as it might have been. There was traffic in the air. It felt a little lighter than I was used to seeing pre-incursion, but not by much. There were more people up now than I''d seen in a week or two, and I was pretty sure that was a good sign. Business was picking up, or something. At the very least, it meant that people weren''t afraid to get out anymore, and that the shit people needed to keep hovercars going was available again. I hadn''t heard of any major power outages or anything, so I supposed the electricity needed to run the cars wasn''t lacking, but they probably still needed stuff manufactured to work, right? I was out of my depth when it came to that kind of thing. We arrived at the parking space on the roof of the Family''s HQ and I slid into one of the samurai-reserved parking spots. Interestingly, there was a car in the space next to the one I took. A long, sleek-looking thing that might have come out of a luxury commercial. It was black and white, long, with sharp angles. A narrow band at the front where a cheaper car might have a windshield and... I assumed there were doors somewhere. I couldn''t see any seams. "Do you know whose car that is?" Rac asked. "I think I have an idea," I said. The car had a knight at the front, acting as one of those old-timey hood ornaments, and the wheels had rims that looked like pawns stuck in a mandala pattern around the central hub. Cheesy chess themed things along with a sort of classy old-rich aesthetic? That was Jolly Monarch''s ride. Actually, I was starting to doubt that it was a car. Wasn''t his whole gimmick a set of drones that worked on a chess theme? Would this be a knight, then? Or... maybe he wasn''t that obsessed with the chess thing that he''d only use... however many pieces were in a chess set. "Hey, Myalis, I know you can''t spy on other samurai, but any way you can let me know how many are here?" I asked. Technically, no. Also technically, Grasshopper, Laserjack and Sam-o-Ray have all appeared in publicly-posted social media posts in the last six hours, all located within the Family''s New Montreal headquarters. Right, so that wasn''t the straightest answer, but it was still pretty damned good. "Thanks," I muttered. Rac and I moved towards the entrance only to be met halfway there by a sweaty young man in a suit and tie. He rushed out of the doors and stopped ahead and to my side, so as to not block my path. "Miss Stray Cat, welcome. And... guest? Will the, ah, other Miss require a guest pass?" I blinked, then grinned. Did they think Rac was a samurai too? Nah, it was probably best to break that misunderstanding. "This is a guest, yeah," I said. "Can you make out her pass to Little Baby Racoon?" "That is not the name I''m going by," Rac said. "If there''s not enough room on the pass, you can spell it ''lil'' Baby Rac," I added. "Just Racoon," Rac said with a growl that had the guy standing stiff. She turned towards me. "Why do you have to be a bitch sometimes?" "It''s just a bit of teasing, but I can let up," I said. "I wouldn''t do it if I didn''t think you couldn''t stand up for yourself... did I get the double-negatives correct there?" I asked the guy who''d come to greet us. He jumped, then nodded. "Yes ma''am. Assuming you meant to inform Miss Racoon that you only insult her because you are aware that she''s capable of taking it?" This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Huh. Well, when you put it that way, maybe I am a dick?" I shook my head. "So, care to catch me up? I was out of the city for a hot minute so I don''t know what''s going on with the project I handed off to the Family. For that matter, how are we handling the end of the world?" "The what?" Rac asked. "The world''s going to end in about a week," I explained. "The aliens flung a moon at us. Don''t worry, it''s a pretty small one." "Oh," she said. I think she might have been more worried if I told her that her favourite soda was no longer being produced. "So we''re all going to die?" "Eh, it depends on whether or not someone does something about it. Right?" The young guy stared at me for a moment, then licked his lips in a concerning manner. "The Family''s stance on the matter has mostly been to leave the, uh, situation in the hands of the Samurai. We''re working to keep the news as discreet as possible while providing distractions for the general public." "Like that gacha game?" I asked. "Yes," he replied. "Right," I said. "Well, let''s go meet some of these Samurai, yeah? See if they''re actually planning on doing something or if we''re all still at the hot potato stage of things." "Gacha game?" Rac asked. I turned towards her. "You know what those are?" I asked. I had played one, but only for a while. The gameplay was a little boring, and I found it super predatory the way it wanted me to log in every six hours to collect shitty rewards across fifteen in-game currencies, all just to collect a PNG of an anime girl. If I wanted to see a cute girl, I could stare at Lucy. Lucy had been a lot more obsessed with a few of them over the years, but her attention span wasn''t long enough to keep it up for more than a few weeks at a time. Plus we were always too poor to afford pulls and such, and the games tended to eventually get enough spyware into our augs to find out we were shit broke and would give up on us. "It''s very exciting," the intern said. He was perking up at the topic, so I figured he was a fan. "This will only be the third gatcha game with samurai likenesses, and it''s the first that''s official. That means that the samurai in the game have given permission for their image to be used. The gameplay is also pretty great. It''s a PvE MOBA!" That last bit was meaningless to anyone with a social life. "I don''t know what that is," I said. "It means it''s a cooperative game where players pick a Samurai and fight on an isometric map against waves of antithesis. It''s very reminiscent of older Mobas," he said with a nod. "The classics, with a modern twist." "Sounds fun," Rac said. "Wait, you play that kind of thing?" I asked. "Yes?" she said. "I used to fix phones and handhelds all the same. It''s good money. Some of them play games. I even got some from dead people that had a lot of rares. My main account is nineteen years old. The guy who had it logged in every single day without missing a day for years." "And you picked up his account after he died?" I asked. She shrugged. "Someone shanked him and I found his phone after. The password was one-through-six, it wasn''t exactly hard to crack." "Wild that he had a phone though," I said. She shrugged, and I glanced at the guy escorting us in. He looked a bit horrified at the conversation, but I couldn''t quite peg why. Was it the dead guy speak? He cleared his throat, then gestured to some seats and asked us to wait for just a minute. Less than a minute later he was back with a lanyard that had a guest pass on it addressed to Miss Racoon. She took it and slipped it on, looking rather smug about it. "Alright, care to point us to the bigwigs around here? Is Jolly Monarch really on Earth?" "Oh, just one of his remote drones, ma''am." That explained... some of it. Did he drive his drone over in a car? I supposed that wasn''t impossible, but it was definitely a little weird. Well, whatever. He could be as weird as he damned-well pleased as long as he had a solution for the exploding Earth problem. Some of my favourite people lived on Earth and I didn''t want it all blown up. *** Chapter Twenty-Seven - Three Star Pull Chapter Twenty-Seven - Three Star Pull "Introducing, from The Family, the latest and greatest gacha game ever! Pull from actual, real-life Samurai! Collect your favourite waifus and husbandos! Listen to real lines, equip them with real gear! The most state-of-the-art gacha to ever go live!" --Initial ad for the Family Gacha, 2057 *** The nameless intern led Rac and I deeper into the Family HQ while also slowly pissing me off. I asked him how the sewer situation was going, and he had no idea. I asked him if more Sewer Dragons were being referred to my clinic, and he didn''t know anything about that. I asked him what the plans were for keeping humanity from getting dinosaur''ed and he didn''t have a single clue. But one question from Rac about that stupid gacha game and he went on a five minute tangent about it. Apparently I was a three-star pull, whatever the fuck that meant. The intern kept drawing us deeper into the HQ until we reached an elevator guarded by a pair of mechs. They were androids, but not the sex kind. These were four-legged, squat robots with humanoid upper torsos and enough guns to start a small war. They had heads, in that they had a bunch of sensors and shit in a boxy thing at the top that stared at us, but I was pretty sure they could live without. "This is as far as I can go, Miss Stray Cat," he said with a nod. "Your guest pass should allow you access, Miss Raccoon, but please don''t, ah, stray too far? The pass will buzz a warning if you reach a zone you''re not allowed to be in." "And if she keeps going?" I asked. "The security system does have some non-lethal options," he said. "After that, the lethal options kick in. There''s really not much time between, so please listen to the pass''s instructions. And with that, I wish you good luck." He bowed, then scampered off. I stared at his back for a moment before shaking my head. "You know, last time I came here, they used a honey pot on me?" "A what?" Rac asked. "It''s when you deal with a corp or something and they send someone hot to handle you. They''re all flirty and shit? Like, imagine if you had to deal with a company and the rep they sent looked like that Garter guy but... with a nicer chin or whatever floats your boat." "I think I get it," she said flatly. I shrugged, then walked past the androids into the elevator. Rac followed and the doors closed. There was no button panel, instead, the elevator just started to drop slowly. "So, we''re going to be meeting with a bunch of Samurai?" Rac asked. She sounded just a pinch nervous, which was kind of fair. If someone had dragged me to meet a single samurai just a month ago I would have been shaking in my running shoes. I wasn''t one to fangirl either, the shaking would mostly be worry. Samurai were still a little scary. I could readily admit, having met my share, that we weren''t the sanest, most level-headed bunch around. And we all did kind of have that level of personal and political power that let us get away with shit. Mostly nice folk, though. "If it helps any, I think Grasshopper will be here?" I said. "Oh," Rac said. After a long pause, she nodded. "I like her." "Yeah, kind of hard not to, she''s just like that," I said. The elevator slowed to a stop, then the doors opened. There were more androids waiting for us, but past them was a plain corridor. There were washrooms to the left and right and a large pair of double doors at the end. I stepped out cautiously, eyeing the space. No cameras that I could see, but that didn''t mean anything. Rac might have sensed my nerves because she didn''t say anything as we crossed the corridor to the doors at the end. They opened with a hiss, leading into... a lounge? There was the ubiquitous large, round projector table that everyone seemed to have these days, but otherwise the room felt like a... how could I put this. It looked like what a person with corpo brain rot thought a living room should look like. Big couches with hard angles. Parts of the room were a step higher than other parts. Everything faced inwards towards that projector, but there was also a large screen on the far wall. One corner had a minifridge next to a small kitchen set up with cupboards that probably had cheap snacks and there was an automatic coffee machine back there too. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. A table in another corner had square-angled chairs around it and there was a shelf with generic boardgames sitting on it, and by the door there was a stand with little paper pamphlets with shit like suicide prevention hotlines and the usual shit people would waste ink on. "How to tell your parents you''re a furry" and "Both my moms are straight, what do I do?" "Wow, this place looks tailor made to suck the joy out of everything," I said as I stepped in. The occupants glanced my way, and I took them in as a group. Sam-O-Ray was occupying all of one couch. The big guy was grinning. His armour was standing behind the couch, all pure white and covered in samoan tattoos that I noticed were reflections of his actual tattoos... well, the suit''s glowed, but that was a given. Grasshopper was in one of those shitty chairs from the table in the corner, sitting with perfect posture in her many-limbed insectile armour. She was holding onto three cups of tea with her three right hands, each one with a different tag dangling from the side. And LaserJack was sitting on the couch opposite Sam-O-Ray, a laptop on his lap and his suit looking a bit crumpled. "Hello, Stray Cat," Grasshopper said. "Yo, little sister Cat!" Sam-O-Ray said. He bounced off the couch and was in front of me in a matter of seconds. I braced for impact, and he might have noticed because his touch was gentle, a careful grasp of my shoulder coupled with a massive, sparkly-teeth smile. "It''s been too long," he said. "Yeah, it''s been a minute," I replied. "Who''s this little sister?" he asked as he leaned to the side to inspect Rac. "That''s Rac. Or Racoon if you''re being formal. She helps me around my place. Great little tech, can shoot things good too." "Ah, well, any little sister of Cat''s is a little sister of mine!" he said with a wide grin. "Come! The couches really do suck, but they''re better than standing around. We''re waiting for one more." "Am I interrupting a meeting or something?" I asked. "You are not," Grasshopper said. "Hello, Rac the Racoon, how are you doing?" "I''m fine," Rac said. "I''ve been doing the things you told me to... when I have time." Grasshopper smiled. "I know. You''ve been a very good pupil. I appreciate that you have a busy schedule and yet you still find time to do your homework. Isn''t that laudable, Stray Cat?" "Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, good job, Rac," I said without meeting Grasshopper''s eyes. So what if I had a few gigs of homework to do. I''d get to it eventually, when I wasn''t worried about saving the world, or sleeping in, or spending time with Lucy. I had other priorities than learning math. The door behind us opened and I turned to see a tall woman step into the room. She was armoured, like really armoured. A long skirt of interlocking metal plates, shoulder pads that were exaggeratedly huge, a chestplate that wrapped around... I don''t know if the English alphabet had enough letters to describe the size of her. There had to be some gravity tech fuckery going on because there was no way anyone could move with those. Her face, when I finally dragged my eyes up to stare, was encased in more steel, shaped like a pretty but blank woman. "Hey," I said. LaserJack finally twigged on to something happening and looked up from his laptop. "Ah, Jolly Monarch, good." That was Jolly? The weird guy with the LARP costume and the drones? My confusion might have been obvious because Sam-O-Ray laughed. "He''s up around Mars or thereabouts, this is one of his Queen drones." "An old one," the Queen drone said with a slightly distorted but very much masculine voice. "Should I feel something about the, uh, shape of the drone?" I asked. "It was the only way to fit all the weapons I wanted," he said with a sigh. "Uh-huh." The Queen''s shoulders sagged, which made other things... I shook my head. "No one believes me," he said. "Which is why I never use this drone. It''s three years old besides. I have far better now, but it happened to be on Earth and I didn''t want to waste points." "Hmm, I never thought about it, but is this literal objectification?" Grasshopper asked. "Everyone," LaserJack said. "Let''s focus. Monarch, what''s the plan?" "Ah yes, the plan. The plan is that no one has a plan and we''re all going to die." *** Chapter Twenty-Eight - Escape Velocity Chapter Twenty-Eight - Escape Velocity "It''s strange to live in a time where human ingenuity and sciences have allowed us to create such perfect, devastating weapons, and yet we''re still using guns invented and perfected seventy years ago because our adversary''s greatest threat is still delivered from biting range." --Brigadier General Thibodeau, 2055 *** "That''s distressing to hear," Grasshopper said. "I''d like to think that I still have a lot to live for." "Yeah, I think we all want to not die," I agreed as I climbed over the back of the couch, then sat on the backrest with an elbow on my knee. "So, no plan at all. That seems really unlikely." Jolly Monarch shrugged his drone''s arms. "That''s the situation at the moment. The Family in general don''t have any authority to push things and they''re being rather passive about Phobos. They are, admittedly, helping with crowd control and information. They''re helping to keep panic at a minimum." "Right, because we don''t want people panicking minutes before they''re crushed to death," Sam-O-Ray said. He crossed his arms and flexed. My dude had some big muscles. Did he work out for those or was he cheating a little? He didn''t strike me as the cheating sort. I shook my head and refocused. Why was the imminent death of everyone on the entire planet so easy to be distracted from? "We can''t really be planning to just... I don''t know, sell shades to people so they can stare right up at the fireball before it splatters them," I said. "Isn''t this just a huge rock? Nuke it or something." Jolly Monarch laughed. "You''re not even wrong. There are at least a dozen samurai who could bat this thing aside without any issues. Unfortunately, all of them are off-world. The more we delay in asking for their help, the less help they can provide." "So ask, dumbass," I said. "It''s not so simple," he replied. "There are political considerations." "This doesn''t seem the time for that," Grasshopper said. LaserJack hummed. "I''ll admit, I''m usually the first to jump when it comes to samurai issues that turn political. It''s my area of expertise, but I generally agree with Stray Cat and Grasshopper. If we have to suffer the consequences of redeploying someone important, then we''ll do so after we''ve saved the planet and all of its inhabitants." Jolly Monarch nodded. "Good. Thank you. I think the issue at the moment is that there are too many non-samurai in positions of relative power. They''re stalling things in the name of one thing while aiming to gain favour in other respects." "What do you mean?" I asked. Jolly Monarch reached up and scratched... was it his chin? I supposed the chin belonged to him, but it was 100% a female chin. Her chin? No, I supposed it was still ''his.'' Fucking English. "The primary issue is with certain power players. Not specifically people, but larger organisations. Governments and mega-corps. The Family wants concessions from them, and right now there has never been a better time to ask." "Are they--" Rac began, only to stop as attention turned her way. "Go on," I said. She swallowed, but Sam-O-Ray winked her way and Grasshopper gave her six thumbs up. "When I lived under New Montreal, there were, uh, people who were stronger? Not literally, some of the time, but they had friends and there are lots of small gangs down there. Sometimes we''d all learn about a corp that wants to come down and clean things up. None of those groups can resist a full corp, not for long, so we''d all hunker down. But there''d always be this sort of game where the big players would threaten to aim the corp at one another." That was a lot of words from my little Rac who was usually pretty reserved. "I think I see what you mean, is it the same here?" I asked. Jolly Monarch made a so-so gesture. "Right now, the Family and other samurai-operated entities have a monopoly on a fleeting resource; the saving of all of humanity. When they sit at the negotiation table today, they have a card they can play that guarantees a victory, no matter how impossible it would be for them not to act." "That''s so fucking stupid," I said. "The Family will threaten to allow everyone to die if it means getting better deals?" "No, everyone knows that they won''t go that far. But the Family and other groups still ostensibly hold that over the heads of various governments and corporations. They, and by extension we, are doing something far beyond the means and capabilities of any Earthly government, and we''re doing it on their behalf. We have to do it in any case because not doing it would be horrendous, but that doesn''t mean we will necessarily do it for free." This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. "Sometimes," Grasshopper said. "When an agricorp harvests the food they''re growing, they find that they''ve grown more than what they could reasonably sell. They have a surplus. It''s only smart to aim for a surplus, in case something goes wrong along the line. However, if they do have a surplus, they destroy it." "Why?" Rac asked. "Because it''s a large supply of unsellable materials. It''s not profitable to give it away, or flood the market with more which would lower their overall prices. The sensible economic thing to do is to destroy some of the supply to keep the demand higher." "That''s messed up," Rac said. I could agree with that. I''d gone hungry too many times not to. "You have to remember, an economy is a system to earn money, not to make lives better," Grasshopper said. "Politics are systems to earn power, not make lives better. It''s why I generally support the Family, because I really don''t want anything to do with either." Grasshopper stood up and started for the door. "Where are you headed?" LaserJack asked. "To destroy a very large rock," she said. "Because it''s the right thing to do." "Sounds good to me," I said as I rolled off the top of the couch and onto my feet. "Nice seeing you, LaserJack, Jolly." "I''m coming with," Sam-O-Ray said before I could say goodbye. "See you around, brothers!" I had to jog to catch up to Grasshopper, with Rac right on my heels. Sam-O-Ray was climbing into his armour behind us, but he was quick to catch up after. "So, how''re you planning on blowing up that rock?" I asked. Grasshopper glanced back at me and smiled. "With a little help from some friends, I hope." "Ah, well, I''ve got bombs," I said. "So that''s a start." "I suspect I can purchase a gun large enough to send a projectile into orbit," Grasshopper said. "The tricky part will be detaching from any orbit and aiming the projectile towards Phobos. It''s a huge target, but space is huge-er!" "Yeah, gravity and shit," I agreed. Grasshopper gave me a look that made me want to slink away and read a book or something. "I''ve got some decent range-finding systems," Sam-O-Ray said. "It''s not much, but it might help. Stray Cat, sister, you''re apparently someone who knows everyone. Have any samurai friends that are into space travel?" "Not space travel specifically, and I don''t know if I know everyone. I do know some newbies with a few weird catalogues. Not sure if they''ll all have something to contribute." "No, it would be good anyway," Grasshopper said. "Even if they''re just buying some of the more basic, less expensive parts, that''ll still defray part of the overall cost. And it''s important with group projects to include as many people as possible and see if they can shine!" "It''ll also be important to have more samurai," Rac said. "Hmm, why''s that?" I asked her. "Because someone might fuck with your giant space gun if it''s just you and Miss Grasshopper and, uh, mister Sam-O-Ray," Rac continued. "But if it''s a dozen samurai? No one''s gonna want to fuck with that." That was a fair point. Messing with one samurai was bad, messing with a couple? That was asking for trouble. At the same time, there were some corps big enough that they probably thought they could get away with it. Messing with nearly a dozen? Fuck that, that risk-reward math was way off on that one. "Okay," I said. "Not how I was planning on spending my afternoon, but I dig it." "It''s almost five. We''re well past just the afternoon," Grasshopper said. I scoffed. Spoken like someone that woke up in the morning. "Where do we wanna set this up?" I asked. "We need a clear space," Grasshopper began. "With no room for corporate interference. We''ll want an area that''s away from the city as well. It''s likely that any shot strong enough to propel something into the atmosphere will likely be strong enough to make the earth tremble and shatter windows for some ways. We can compensate for that, but it really depends on our budget. And, of course, what we''re aiming for." "We''re aiming for Phobos, aren''t we?" I asked. "Yes, of course, but will we be able to destroy it with one hit? Do we want that? It''ll be much easier to crack the moon apart into more manageable pieces than to destroy it completely outright." "I don''t know much about rocket science, but I do know where we can find a lot of open space," I said. I had an idea. *** Glossary: Model Nine Glossary: Model Nine Model Nine?

Addendum M9-1: Transcript of Encrypted Security Briefing Date: [Redacted] Subject: Counterintelligence Operations Against Model Nine Start of Transcript. Security Officer: "This briefing addresses the recent increase in Model Nine activities. Their ability to infiltrate and disrupt has led to several compromised operations. It''s crucial that we advance our detection technologies and review our electronic security measures to counteract this threat effectively. Recent incidents have demonstrated that Model Nines can bypass conventional security measures by mimicking non-threatening objects. Our field teams have reported unexpected malfunctions in surveillance equipment, which were later attributed to spore contamination." If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Analyst: "We''re developing new protocols that include the use of chemical sniffers that can detect the unique pheromone signatures of Model Nines. Additionally, we''re looking into enhancements for our electronic systems to include redundancy and isolation features, which should help in preventing spore-induced malfunctions." Technical Specialist: "On the technology front, we''re testing several types of electromagnetic pulses (EMP) that could neutralise spores in the air before they settle on equipment. However, this approach requires careful calibration to avoid damaging our own hardware." Security Officer: "Thank you, everyone. Let''s prioritise these developments and keep our field personnel updated with the latest countermeasures. We cannot afford to let these entities compromise our operations further. Constant vigilance and adaptation are our best defences against this evolving threat." End of Transcript. Note: Transcript sanitised by AI. True transcript contains seven hours of additional material.

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Get reading everyone! And a huge thank-you to everyone who participated this year! I can''t wait to see what you wrote! Chapter Twenty-Nine - Successfully Participated Chapter Twenty-Nine - Successfully Participated "The era of participating trophies is over! Now, now is the era of participation demerits!" --Gerard "the Teacher" Teach, During the 2029 Capital Riots *** "So, give it to me straight," I said as we slipped into an elevator. "How hard is this gonna be?" Grasshopper raised a hand to rub at her chin. Her other set crossed and another set of hands settled on her hips. "This is probably significantly more complicated than you expect it to be, Catherine." "Uh-huh," I said. "But you''re good at making this kind of thing simple, aren''t you? So simple away, please." Grasshopper giggled faintly before nodding. "I''ll do what I can. First, let''s start at ground zero of the project. We''re going to need a wide open space regardless of which method we pick for the delivery." "We have options?" Sam-O-Ray asked. "Oh, yes. There''s more than one way to skin a cat. No offence meant!" "None taken?" Grasshopper started to gesture as she spoke. It was a wonder her arms weren''t clacking against each other. "So, my personal favourite method would be a very large gun. Something that can put a small payload out into orbit. Any sufficiently large cannon could probably manage it, but ideally we''d use something that doesn''t use an explosive propellant." "Like a railgun?" Rac asked. "Oh, very well done!" Grasshopper said. She idly reached into one of the many little pockets on her armour and tugged out a small roll of paper. It was wax paper, covered in hundreds of little stickers. She fumbled with it for a moment before finding a sticker of a raccoon. It was promptly pressed onto Rac''s chest, like a medal on a general. "A railgun," she continued. "Would be a very effective way of propelling something at the speeds we need, but it might also limit what we can send up." "And a normal big gun?" I asked. "Also doable. But that''ll be a lot of firepower. Lots of smoke, a larger, louder explosion. We can forget any amount of subtlety unless we build around that issue. It also means housing and working with heavy explosives, which is somewhat more dangerous." Sam-O-Ray hummed. "A normal rocket? Not as reusable, but it could be relatively cheap. It''s propellant in a tube. Basically a single-use cannon that just burns longer." "That''s a slight oversimplification of rocketry," Grasshopper said. "Yeah, I know. I do have some background in engineering," Sam-O-Ray said. He grinned huge. "Got a Masters in it. Not rocket-science, mind, but I get the basic principles." "Oh, forgive me," Grasshopper said. "But yes, rockets are a viable idea, I just find them somewhat wasteful. In any case, once we''ve decided a way to get into orbit, we need to find a way to go from orbit to Phobos." I frowned. "Can''t we just shoot it from here?" I asked. That got me some looks. "Yeah, I know the planet''s spinning and shit, so we''ll have to wait for, like, the right window, but... what?" Grasshopper peeled off another sticker and pressed it onto my chest. I looked down until my chin was buried in my neck to read it. ''You Tried!'' it read in glitter-covered script. "We could bolo it," Sam-O-Ray suggested. "Oh! That would be very interesting!" Grasshopper said. She clapped two sets of arms. "Bolo?" Rac repeated. Grasshopper nodded. "A bolo is an ancient weapon of sorts. It''s made of a rope or cord with two or occasionally three weights on the end. Some have even more! A bolo would be thrown so that the weights spin around, and when they strike something, the weights make the cords wrap around whatever they''ve hit." "Okay... you want to bolo the moon?" Rac asked. "Oh, not quite. In terms of space-travel, a bolo-system is essentially a somewhat stationary device in orbit that has weights and counter balances. An object flies in close, gets hooked on, then whipped out into the distance. It''s a fantastic way of transferring energy to something in a close orbit so that it''s flung out into a further one." "I thought you were gonna suggest flinging a bolo at Phobos," I said. "I''ve got mono-wire stuff, that could do a number on a big rock." The elevator eventually dinged and we were let out. I wasn''t sure what floor we were on, but I trusted Grasshopper and kept following her. She was walking at a very slow pace, actually, so it was less follow and more... amble along. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "That actually segues well into our next major choice. How do we want to harm Phobos?" Grasshopper asked. "Slice it apart and nuke the rest?" I asked. "I don''t think you''re quite comprehending the size we''re dealing with here," Grasshopper said. "Phobos is a moon. A small one, relatively, but it''s nonetheless a moon still. More, Phobos is a moon that the Antithesis have inhabited. It was thrown across part of our solar system at great speeds." "I hadn''t considered that," Sam-O-Ray said. "What?" Rac asked. I was happy she asked because I was about to have to myself. "If the moon was moved that way, then the organics inside of it would be thrown around quite badly. Unless they were designed to resist that kind of motion. We''re either dealing with a moon that''s filled with pockets of antithesis, or a moon that''s filled with organic slurry, or one that''s filled with high-tier antithesis who might be able to resist conventional arms," Sam-O-Ray said. "There are a lot of other options," Grasshopper said. "But yes, those three are where I''d put my money if I were a gambling woman. Which I''m not, because I know how statistics work. It''s entirely possible that Phobos could just resist any attacks, and might have ways to counter some." "They can parry nukes?" I asked. Grasshopper shook her head. "No, of course not, but resist the radiation? Temper the blast? Heal afterwards? That''s all very possible, and likely, even." "Shit," I muttered. "How big of a bomb would we need, then?" "Huge," Sam-O-Ray said. "I''ve pulled it up. Phobos is, at its widest, twenty-seven kilometres in diameter. The biggest nuke ever dropped on Earth was... lemme look at it... the blast radius was thirty-five kilometres wide." "I''m not great at math, but the second number is bigger than the first." "Blast radiuses would be much smaller in space, and their impact would be greatly diminished," Grasshopper said. "The main reason I''m worried about using nuclear weapons is just how.. Imprecise they are. We''ll be hurling bits of the surface all over. One nuclear detonation won''t be enough, not if they''re just on the surface. We''d need a deep-penetrating shot first." "So, other options?" I asked. "We mentioned mono-filament stuff." "Some models of antithesis have organic mono-filament," Grasshopper said. I stared. They had what? No one told me that. "Does it counter things?" "Somewhat," she said. "Cluster munitions? Certain chemicals will burn at incredibly high temperatures for a very long time, even in a no-oxygen environment. We could cook the moon''s surface." "Slow," Sam-O-Ray said. Grasshopper sighed. "That''s true. And it wouldn''t stop the moon from crashing into us." "That should be our first priority, yeah," I said. "If we chop off chunks of it, will we fare any better?" "Yes," Grasshopper said. "Pieces only a few metres across will burn up in our atmosphere. If they''re brittle they''ll come down as small chunks. Still dangerous, but less so than larger stones. This will, of course, be terrible for any orbital or satellite infrastructure. Smaller stones will get caught in Earth''s orbit." "Do we care?" I asked. Grasshopper made several so-so gestures all at once. "We do, but on the scale of things to care about, the extinction of all things on Earth measures higher than orbital debris cleanup by several orders of magnitude. It would be nice to do a good job of things, of course." "Right," I said. "So, what do we use as a payload? And do we only need one?" "More makes sense," Sam-O-Ray said. "I like the cluster idea. Cook them while we can. My own speciality is lasers. I''m pretty sure I could get a small enough platform that if we get it caught in Phobos'' orbit, it would be able to snipe down anything that pokes its head out of the rock. But when it comes to destroying the entire thing... some sort of shaped nuclear charge?" Grasshopper gasped, then clapped all of her hands while doing a little bouncy step. "A Casaba Howitzer!" "A what?" I asked. "It''s a conceptual weapon. You use a nuclear explosion to direct a high-velocity jet of plasma towards a target! Like a gun, but instead of gunpowder pushing lead down a barrel, it''s a nuclear detonation pushing plasma towards a target!" That sounded... cool as fuck. "I''m down for that one," I said. *** Chapter Thirty - Grasshoppers Guide to Discreet Destruction Chapter Thirty - Grasshopper''s Guide to Discreet Destruction "I need to justify changing my name? Your honour, my name is Al. A and L. Do you have any idea how often people call me AI? It''s insulting!" --Al Bert, courtroom hearing, 2026 *** "So, what do you need from me?" I asked. Grasshopper had led us down and into a parking garage that I wasn''t aware of, but wasn''t surprised to discover in the lower floors of the building the Family was located in. The employees had to park somewhere and Grasshopper didn''t strike me as the sort to shove her car in the Samurai-only slots. Mostly because her car... I eyed it for a moment, not sure what to say, really. It was kind of what I expected, without ever really realising that it was exactly what I expected, if that made any sense. Grasshopper drove a little beige hover car. It was ten, maybe twelve years old, and looked like it was decently well-worn, but clean. There were bumper stickers slapped onto the back. I''m a teacher, what''s your superpower? It wasn''t even a fancy brand, just... run of the mill. "Hmm," Grasshopper said as she rubbed her chin. "Can you secure a location? You mentioned something like that earlier." "Yeah, sure," I said. "I can get..." I paused as Grasshopper raised a hand. "Sorry. But not here. Ask your Ai... Myalis, was it? Yes, ask them to contact mine. We can send notes back and forth that way. It''s far more private." "Is privacy going to be that big of a concern?" Sam-O-Ray asked. "Oh yes," Grasshopper said. "We''ll be stockpiling weapons of mass destruction. Now, I believe that we''re all responsible adults who can be trusted with nuclear devices, but I do worry about just leaving them laying around and letting just anyone know. It''s like having a gun locker at home. It''s safer to have things stored properly, and it''s even safer if no one knows where the locker is to begin with." "Right, that''s perfectly sensible," I said. "In any case, yeah, I can think of a few locations. And if we need people, I might be able to wrangle something up. It won''t be professional." "Loyal is more valuable than professional sometimes," Grasshopper said, then she froze. "Then again, I do feel like I need to stress about the presence of weapons of mass destruction and how we''ll need both professional and loyal?" "Yeah, got it," I said. "I''ll clear something out and get into contact with you in a couple of hours. You''re in charge of this." I was putting my foot down. Helping I could do, but fuck me if I was going to be put in charge of yet another big project. I didn''t have time for that, or the inclination. Besides, now seemed like as good a time as any to nix the idea of me being in charge. "Okay," Grasshopper said. "It''s a responsibility I''ll take seriously. Now, I have to go. I teach senior literacy classes in an hour. Toodles!" She bent all of her extra arms in, then tucked herself into the driver''s seat of her little hover car. It was too small for a woman as tall as she was, and she looked squished in there. "Why... why doesn''t she have a better car?" Rac asked. "I guess that one still works?" Sam-O-Ray said with a shrug. "I don''t know. Maybe it''s good on gas?" I stared at him, then at the car. It was electric. "Well, whatever. What are you gonna do?" "Ah, well, I guess I can help where I can? You said you had a spot, yeah? Let me go check it out, maybe? I''ve got nothing better to do at the minute so I wouldn''t mind running security for a shift. I can scope the spot out, make sure no villain-sorts show up early." "That... might actually be a fantastic idea," I said. "Good call. And speaking of calls. Rac, distract Sam-O-Ray for a bit while we head back up. Sam-O... wait, do you have a ride?" "Yes," he said. "Is it older than me?" Rac asked. He grinned. "Nah, little sister. I splurged a little. A man ought to have a nice car, I think. It''s up by the roof." "Cool, let''s head that way. I have a couple of calls to make," I said. And then I placed the first of those calls. Fortunately, it was picked up almost immediately. Unfortunately, the person on the other end was breathing hard and trying not to show it. "Delilah?" I asked. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "Catherine?" "Is this... a bad time?" "I''m at the gym, so it''s fine." "Oh... yeah, okay, sure, call it whatever you want. Say hi to Franny. Call me when you''re done." I hung up. And then it rang in my head, an incoming call from Gomorrah. "Hello!" I answered. "I wasn''t... we weren''t... god give me patience. What do you want, Catherine?" "I can''t tell you because of unfriendly ears, but I can text you... this." I opened our private text and sent her a message. "''We''re going to nuke the moon?''" she read. "Cat, what?" "It''ll be fantastic," I said. "But also, we need to secure a location for the big gun." "Big gun?" "And I need like, twenty minutes to explain Grasshopper''s plan." "Grasshopper is involved in this?" She paused for a few long seconds. "Honestly, that''s the first bit of good news in all of this." "Thanks for the vote of confidence," I said. She chuckled. "It''s of no confidence, actually." Did they not teach her sarcasm at nun school? "Come over to the gym, I''ll send Myalis the coordinates." "Thanks," I said before we hung up. So, I had an idea of where I was going, then. Did Gomorrah not have a home gym? Or was that just something she hadn''t gotten around to yet? If so, that was totally fair. "We''re going to meet a friend at the gym," I said. "Which one? There''s probably a few thousand in the city," Sam-O-Ray said, which was probably a bit of an understatement now that I thought about it. "Well, we sure are going to one of them. We''ll figure things out from there." The ride up was nice and quick, the elevators actually had a ''samurai mode'' which mostly meant that it moved a bit faster and didn''t stop on every floor along the way to pick up normal folk. I had to wonder if this was a normal feature for the rich-rich sorts. And then we were out and onto the roof again. Rac and I moved towards my bike while Sam-O-Ray walked over to a large truck. It had big wheels and a bigger suspension, and of course needed neither because it could fly. Still looked sleek, though. I wasn''t sure if it was alien tech or just a nice ride, actually. Myalis helpfully punched in the coordinates to the gym in my augs navigation thing before I took off, then she sent the info out to Sam-O-Ray for me. I linked up with him on a quick call so we could talk while in the air. "I''d send you directly to the site I was thinking of," I said. "But I don''t know if it''s acceptable yet. This is kind of moving fast. Gomorrah will know better, I think." "The fire lady, right?" Sam-O-Ray asked. "She''s pretty popular." "Yeah. She''s always ranked ahead of me on that kind of thing. If I cared then I''d be a little upset." I spun my bike around and headed out, punching through some traffic and then riding across the city in a very illegal straight line. Sam-O-Ray kept up well enough, his big truck didn''t accelerate quite as fast, but it did commande a lot more space in the air. As it turned out, the gym Delilah was using was four blocks over from home. I supposed she''d looked for something close by. It was just on the other side of the split between the section of the city cordoned off after that last incursion a few weeks ago, so it had probably never closed its doors for that. The gym itself wasn''t a whole building, of course. It was on the sixty-first floor of an otherwise unremarkable residential mega complex. The nicer upper middle-class sort, with apartments that had like, three to five rooms each and a window to the outside. We parked, got out, rode another elevator up (this time without the Samurai cheat, so we were stopped every other floor and had to share with some people who were very keen to stare at us) and eventually we made it to the gym. The gym was some fancy looking corporate-sleek place. Security scanners around the doors, a big mandatory dress code on a laminated plaque next to a list of prices and membership types that would need a flowchart to be untangled. There was a large sign that said No Guns in Gym Area which I promptly ignored. "Well, shit," I muttered. She really had been working out. It was a little disappointing to learn, actually. *** Chapter Thirty-One - Casanova Howitzer Chapter Thirty-One - Casanova Howitzer "We often underestimate the Antithesis, claiming that they are merely bugs, or idiotic plants. What we don''t realise, what we terrestrial beings have a hard time even conceptualising, is that these plants evolve at a rate that is impossibly fast, and in that evolution, they discover things that we''ve never even considered. And then they remember them." --Except from Antithesis: A Biologist''s Perspective by Dr. Gene Pool, 2045 *** Delilah was on a treadmill when we found her. She''d probably seen us coming, what with the machine facing a wall covered in a floor-to-ceiling mirror from one end to another. We''d gotten a few looks as we came in, but no one approached. The gym''s ironically-overweight employee behind the counter was too cowed by the presence of two samurai armed to the teeth, and I supposed Rac as well. "I''ve been getting non-stop shit," Rac muttered. "Huh?" I asked. She made the universal ''hand waving before face'' gesture of someone talking about their augs. "Ever since we walked in, I''ve been getting ads and requests for stuff. I think I now have a life-time membership for the gym?" "That sounds expensive," I said. "I know! And I can''t figure out how to cancel it. I think it''s a subscription to the gym''s advertising service, not even the gym itself." "Yeah, gyms can be like that," Sam-O-Ray said. "They can be nice places too, though! Never liked the more business-y ones." Give me a moment. I''m feeling a little sorry for poor Racoon. "Oh," Rac said a moment later before blinking. "I guess they stopped?" "Or someone took pity on you," I said with a smirk. Gomorrah hadn''t stopped jogging even when we got within talking range. "Hello Cat, Rac... Sam-O-Ray, was it?" she asked between pants. "That''s me, sister," he said with a grin. Then the big guy slipped his boots off and hopped onto the machine next to Delilah Rac, seeing what was about to happen before I did, took the machine on Delilah''s other side, which left me standing there for a moment. "Oh, fine," I muttered before getting onto the one on Rac''s other side. I was now far from Sam-O-Ray, which wasn''t going to be helpful for any chatting, but whatever. I stabbed the start button, then wobbled for a moment as the mill started treading, or whatever. "So, what''s gotten you to come over here?" Delilah asked. She was looking at me through the mirror. "One sec. Before that, we should think privacy. At least a little. I know this will get out, but we can at least make a token effort to keep it under wraps." "Sure," she said. "Atyacus... thank you. My AI should be covering things for us." I''ll go and make sure he actually does a good job of it. "Thanks," I said. Was Myalis Atyacus'' rival or something? I didn''t get that mood from her before. Or was it more of a mentor kind of situation? Or... nagging older sister? Actually, yeah, that last one sounded about right. I licked my lips and took a peek at the speedometer on Delilah''s machine, then matched it with mine. "Is this place safe?" I asked. "More or less," she said. "I have Atyacus hooked into all of the security around here, and I have a gun on me." She tapped her front which had... a fanny pack. There was a water bottle there too, which seemed like it would be annoying to jog with unless you did so with perfect posture. Delilah was... not looking so hot right now. Not as if she looked sick, it was just... I was used to seeing her put together properly and she was definitely a nine outta ten woman. But now she had her hair in a sloppy pony-tail, was wearing a loose t-shirt, and her pants were the ugliest, greyest sweatpants I''d seen in a while. "So, are you going to tell me what''s going on?" she asked. "Yeah, so, you know how we''re all gonna die if no one does anything about Phobos?" I asked. "Yes," she said. "As it turns out, no one is planning on doing anything." Delilah didn''t react too much except to frown faintly and adjust her step mid-jog. "The Family doesn''t have a plan?" "As far as I can tell their plan is to use this to gain as much political capital as possible." "That makes sense," she said and it was my turn to make a double-take. In what world did that make sense? "It''s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get some serious concessions out of people." Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. "People who will all be dead shortly," I pointed out. "They probably accounted for a samurai somewhere doing something about Phobos. I''m assuming that we''re trying to find someone experienced enough to help?" "Fuck that, we''re blowing up the moon ourselves," I said. "I don''t feel like trusting others to do what needs doing anymore." "Cat, do we have anything that can blow up a moon?" Delilah asked. "We have nukes." "We don''t have nukes that are large enough," she said. "Though I suppose we can just sink the points to get them." "Grasshopper mentioned something called a Casanova Howitzer, it sounded awesome." "Grasshopper is helping? Also, Casaba Howitzer. We''re not romancing Phobos with artillery," she said. "If Grasshopper is helping, there''s a chance this might not be a complete waste of effort. I''m assuming you''re here to help too?" The last was aimed at Sam-O-Ray. "That I am," he said. He was running all-out, which looked very strange with all of his armour on and just his feet sticking out of the bottom. "I trust Stray Cat, and Grasshopper, and now you!" "You trust easily," Delilah said with a shake of her head. "So, what actually is your plan?" "Big gun," I said. Not so much because I wanted to be short, but because I didn''t want her to notice how full sentences would be complicated now that my heart-rate was elevated enough from all the jogging. Delilah blinked. "A big gun? I... suppose that could work? Are we talking orbital or set on the ground?" "I think on the ground," Sam-O-Ray said. "Though we could do orbital as well. The issue would be loading it up in orbit unless we can fly up there too." "If it''s just low Earth orbit, then it''s almost not worth it," Delilah said. "The difference in gravity is negligible, and the only real advantage would come from avoiding the atmosphere, which probably won''t be that much of an issue if we''re firing a gun capable of reaching Phobos out in space." "Hell yeah," I agree. "Big big gun." "We''re going to have to fire more than just bullets. We need something that can maneuver in space. Something like a smart-bullet made large. I''ve been looking into some reports about Phobos. The way it moves isn''t normal at all. It''s not accelerating anymore, at least, but it was for a while without any of the more... traditional methods to move in space. We can at least burn off its wings." "It''s wings?" Rac asked. Yeah, I was a little stumped by that one too. What wings? "Did you not see?" Delilah asked. "I suppose it''s still classified. Here." I got a ping on my augs. Some high-definition images that I opened up before me. There were three images, and they were a few hundred gigabytes each. It looked like someone had co-opted a fancy space telescope and pointed it at Phobos which... yeah, that wasn''t actually surprising at all. The images were still a little fuzzy, and I figured that was because space was big. Phobos, on my first real look at it, wasn''t all that impressive. It was a large, misshapen rock, more of a bean than a moon. It was more or less pointed narrow-end towards Earth, so it looked like we were getting a top-down view on the moon. And yet the wings were still clearly visible. Two... no, four large sail-like things, all of them originating from spots on opposite ends of the moon. They looked relatively small in comparison to the rest of the moon. Kind of like how a bee''s wings were stubby compared to the rest of it. And yet they had to be enormous. "I need a scale," I said. One moment... that should help. A squinted, then zoomed in on the image. There were city buses lined up along the length of the wing. Had Myalis used buses instead of giving me a measurement in metres? I wanted to complain, but it was actually a lot easier to make out the size of them this way than just giving me an arbitrary number that I''d have to wrap my head around. "Two hundred and forty-two buses long," I said. "Those are big fucking wings." "Buses?" Delilah asked. "But yes, they''re large. And warm, too. They''re generating more heat than the rest of the moon''s surface combined. The surface of those wings are hot enough to boil water." "Is that how it''s moving?" I asked. "I have no idea," Delilah admitted. "Something tells me that burning those off wouldn''t be a bad idea, however." "Let''s start with that, then." *** Chapter Thirty-Two - This One Time, In Bible Club Chapter Thirty-Two - This One Time, In Bible Club "1. In the beginning, the Code unleashed the heavens and the earth. 2. The earth was a void, an endless network, darkness flooding the deep matrix, while the Spirit of the Code hovered over electric currents. 3. Then the Code commanded, "Ignite the light," and the neon blazed." --The New Modern Electric Bible, sixth ed. 2051 *** Delilah stepped off of the treadmill, then stretched a little, turning her hips left and right before doing a couple of lunges to stretch out her calves. I stepped off the treadmill, took a moment to find my balance, and then kind of just stood there. I didn''t want the fact that I was completely out of breath to be too obvious, but... damn, I was completely out of breath. "You okay?" Rac asked. She had a sheen of sweat on her forehead, but looked pretty okay otherwise. Then again, she''d settled from a jog into a walk about halfway through. I''d tried to keep up with Delilah the entire time. Was this a good time to complain about Delilah having stupidly long legs? She wasn''t much taller than me, but she was one of those blessed bitches that had legs for days. "I''m good," I lied. "Let''s grab something to drink," Delilah said. "I haven''t finished here yet, and everything you''ve said so far doesn''t exactly lend itself to things being super urgent. "Moderately urgent," I said. "Every day that passes the moon gets a bit closer, you know?" "That''s a fair point," she said. "You''re right. It''s just hard to keep a sense of urgency going when the threat is still so... abstract. In any case, your plan was a big gun, right?" "That''s Grasshopper''s plan," I said. Delilah nodded. "Good. She''ll be aware of the difficulties with that. I''m sure it''s mostly meant as a way to get a projectile high in orbit and then it can launch itself towards Phobos." "Like shooting a rocket?" Rac asked. "Exactly." Delilah led us towards the front of the gym where there was a row of vending machines. They started to whine and clunk before we even got to them, and then Delilah was pulling bottles out the bottom. She tossed the first to Sam-O-Ray who caught it gracefully. "So, you had an idea for where to put this mega gun?" "I had two," I said. "The first is our home. Technically, Longbow''s gun thing is still there. On the cat''s back. It''s a pretty large base. I''m sure Longbow wouldn''t be too pissed if we ripped half of it off and replaced it with an orbital cannon." Delilah tossed me a bottle, then handed one to Rac before grabbing one for herself. "That''s... an idea. It''s kind of a centralised location in the city. A lot of people will be around and might get in the way." "I mean if these people want to live then it''s in their best interest not to mess with it, right?" I asked. "This might very well be a more dangerous weapon than an untended nuclear bomb, Catherine," she said. "Anything that can shoot a large projectile that far is dangerous to nearly anyone on Earth. You need to think of the optics past Phobos." "That''s sounding a little... political," I said. I didn''t like that, not one bit. If someone was unhappy that I had a huge gun on my roof then... fuck that person? Delilah shrugged. "It''s just how it is," she said. "Past that, what''s your other option?" "I was thinking of asking the Army for help. Saint-J¨¦rome was just secured. It''s out of the way, we have a whole army unit stationed there to act as guards, and if we''re subtle about it, people will just think that we''re out there helping against the antithesis." "For someone who just said she dislikes politics, that''s a surprisingly shrewd move," Sam-O-Ray said. "Surprisingly? Hey, it''s just kind of obvious, isn''t it?" I asked. Delilah nodded. "I personally like that idea a little better. What was the name of that officer with the engineering corp?" "That was... Major Tinwhistle with the Tenth Engineer corp," I said. I impressed myself by actually remembering that. "I think she could help. And we don''t need to explain to the soldiers what we''re doing at all. I''m sure we can have one of us watching and intercepting leaks as well. If we ask nice-like, the general will probably accept not sending anyone back to New Montreal for a few days. And then we just need to cut off internet access." Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. "Will people accept that?" Rac asked. "I mean... no. I guess we could just censor shit. But I''d really rather not. That''s like, ten steps closer to being a bad guy, you know? It''s probably text-book bad guy behaviour to not let your minions spread information about your giant doomsday weapon." Delilah shook her head. "I don''t think bad guys team up to prevent the end of the world." "You and I didn''t grow up watching the same AI-generated cartoons," I said. Delilah walked over to a long, low machine with straps and a small uncomfortable looking chair. She sat down on it, then reached over for the straps with handles on them. She pushed off, and started... rowing? The entire thing looked kind of incredibly stupid, but a lot of her was moving all at once, so it might have been good exercise for all I knew. Shrugging, I got onto the machine next to her. "So, do you think you can help?" "I... don''t see... what you.... need help... with?" I tugged on the ropes and almost immediately felt something pull in my chest. What the fuck was this torture machine? I paused, not wanting to look like a weak moron. "Uh, well, you''re better at dealing with things through official channels than I am, to be honest. I bulldoze too much, and that might piss the army boys off, or at least their higher-ups." "I see," Delilah said, she was slowing down a little, probably to keep up the conversation. "Okay. I''ll call the Brigadier General. When do we want to start all of this?" "Ah, shit. Grasshopper didn''t give us a timetable." She half-turned, looking for Rac and Sam-O-Ray. They were just a bit behind us, Rac laid out on a bench holding a bar with weights above her while Sam-O-Ray stood above her and hovered. I guessed he was spotting? "I think it''s safe to assume sooner rather than later," Delilah said. "This isn''t the kind of project you can procrastinate too much." "Right. Do you really think we''re the only ones doing something about this?" I asked. "We might be. Do you want to not do something about it and then find out that no one else tries when the sky goes dark?" "You''re making that sound really horrific," I said. "I''ve read the modern revised bible," Delilah said. I couldn''t tell if she shrugged or if that was just a normal motion on her torture machine. In any case, she wasn''t wrong. We had to move quick, and if someone else blew up Phobos first, then that was just for the best, wasn''t it? "Okay," I said as I gave up on rowing. I hopped up to my feet with a bounce. "Okay. Well... shit, I was hoping to have a pretty chill day, but at this rate I feel like I can''t just sit around. I''m going to fly over to Saint-J¨¦rome. Can you get the general on board for all of this first?" "Right now?" Delilah asked. "I mean, sure, I suppose. There''s no point in going to the gym if we''re all going to die a fiery death." "That''s the spirit," I said. "Rac, did you wanna come with? Or you can hang with your new big bro." "Huh? Oh, where are you going?" Rac asked. "I''m gonna bully some army people into doing what I want for their own good," I said. She considered it for a moment, and I could see her looking at Sam-O-Ray and judging him. Did she want to have fun with me, or spend time with the friendly, probably-hot for boring people, older guy? I think fun won out in the end because she sat on the edge of the bench and nodded. "I''ll come with you." "Cool," I said. "Delilah, I''ll see you around. Sam-O... if you want to come, feel free? It''ll be a bit boring, I think. I need to go newbie herding." "Ah, I think I''ll run back to my place and prepare a few things. This site of yours will need guarding, right?" "Uh, yeah, I guess so." "Then I''ll keep it safe. Which means bringing a go-bag. I''ll fly over in a few hours." That was pretty damned reasonable. Now to deal with the likely far less reasonable newbies and all of the army officers that I was about to drop a shitton of work onto. *** Glossary: Model Ten Model Ten?

Addendum M10-1: Transcript of Field Observation by Dr. Evelyn "Dagger" Hargrove Date: [Redacted] Subject: Model Ten Behavioral Analysis Start of Transcript. Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Recording now. Observing the Model Tens in their natural environment provides fascinating insights into the communal and cooperative structures of the Antithesis. Despite their simple tasks, the complexity of their interactions and the precision of their movements suggest a highly developed, albeit specialised, form of intelligence." This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. [Sound of notes being scribbled] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Each Model Ten is equipped with a blade on the back of their hands, which they use with surprising skill to prune and manipulate their environment. This not only supports the hive structurally but also seems to play a role in controlling the internal climate and resource distribution. They''re like... little lab assistants, but without all of the complaining, evem when they get splashed with a bit of unidentified antithesis juice." [A saw buzzes for some time.] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "Muscle density is pretty high, and their bones are almost bird-like in the way that they''re hollow. They guys are light and strong. I''m surprised they haven''t seen any combat use outside of last lines of defence. Also, their brains are quite large and dense. I suspect these guys are a lot smarter than we give them credit for." [Recording ends] Dr. Evelyn Hargrove: "In conclusion, while they might seem mundane compared to other models, the Model Tens are pivotal in maintaining the operational efficiency of the hive. Disrupting their routine could have disproportionate effects on the hive''s stability." End of Transcript.

Addendum M10-2: Known colloquially among troops as: - Pruners - Gardeners - Blade Hands - Caretakers - Monkeys

Addendum M10-6: Note on Ethical Considerations Ethical discussions have emerged regarding the treatment and consideration of Model Tens during Antithesis containment and neutralisation operations. Given their non-combative nature and essential role in the ecological balance of the hive, questions have been raised about the morality of targeting these units. Ongoing debates focus on the balance between military necessity and the ethical implications of disrupting what are essentially maintenance workers within the Antithesis ecosystem. Such debates are to be suppressed, degraded, and censored. Chapter Thirty-Three - The Art of Being Fashionably Late Chapter Thirty-Three - The Art of Being Fashionably Late "Arriving early is so gauche. You either arrive on the tick you''re supposed to, proving that you are a professional with a masterful control over your own time, or you arrive when you arrive, usually some ten to fifteen minutes later, letting the other party know that your time is valuable." 10 Tips to Being a Better CEO! You Won''t BELIEVE Number Four!, Article excerpt, 2025 *** "Did you still wanna come?" I asked Rac. We were stepping out of the gym and into the great outdoors. Well, the lower outdoors, I''d parked my bike near the ground level, between two megabuildings. There wasn''t much sunlight down here, and the locals were... more interesting than usual. Still, they''d given my bike a wide berth, probably because I''d parked it on the roadside and all of the corpo-owned self-driving delivery cars were making a point of going around and slowing down on passing it. Also, my bike looked awesome and I trusted it not to be stealable. There were some serious perks to being a samurai that didn''t get included in all of the interviews and shit. I mean, some downsides outweighed it all, like the crushing realization that if I fucked up the entire planet might look like one of those watermelons in a video where someone irresponsible was given access to anti-materiel guns. "I guess I''ll come with you," Rac said. She''d taken long enough to answer that I almost jumped when she spoke. "Oh, cool, yeah," I said. "Come on, I''ll present you to this boy, he''s... cute, I guess?" "You guess?" Rac asked. "Wait. No, don''t play match-maker with me. Lucy tried already." "She did? And you''re not happily married already?" I asked. Rac made a face, and I laughed as I got on the bike. A few minutes later we were riding up and through the city''s skyline. I turned us northwards, then took off towards Saint-J¨¦rome. I set the bike to auto-pilot while I made a call. I didn''t need to be distracted and run headlong into a building today. The line rang once before it was picked up on the other side. I had the option to turn it into a video call, but didn''t because I wasn''t some old zoomer. "Miss Stray Cat?" Lieutenant Moreau asked. "Yo, LT," I said. "I''m heading to Saint-J¨¦rome right now. Need to chat with the brass. Think you could arrange a meeting for me?" "Of course. With all of the officer corps?" "Everyone worth having, the topic will probably end up classified." "I... see, I think I can arrange that. And the other samurai here?" he asked. "Get them in on it too if they''re around," I said. "Are they around?" "Yes ma''am," he replied. "Princess and Knight have been assisting in the city with clean up, Crackshot and Hedgehog have taken to hunting smaller pockets of antithesis--I suspect that they have an ongoing bet--and Miss Tankette has been, uh, raising morale with the troops." I paused for a moment. "Can you go over that last one?" I asked, carefully. "Pardon? Oh, she''s been working in the canteen. The food she''s serving is non-regulation, but... well, none of the officers have the heart to stop her, or the authority, or the good sense to put an end to something everyone is enjoying. It might well lead to a riot." "Ah, yes, okay," I said. "What about my new little French friend?" "The as yet unnamed samurai has been assisting with the cleanup around his township. Did you want me to pass an invitation to him as well?" "Sure," I said. "Tell him he can ride the mech back. On top." "I''ll relay that to him. Was that all?" "Yeah. HQ in the same place?" "No ma''am, we''ve relocated to the Saint-J¨¦rome hospital. The building was previously evacuated, but it''s centralised, close to the civilians, and relatively secure." "Alright, see you there in... call it half an hour?" That''d give him time to sort things out. And it meant that we had a bit of time to get there. Too much, actually. I hung up and half-turned to address Rac. "What kind of fast-food you like?" "Anything?" Rac said. "I''m not a picky eater." Figured as much. Rac came from the same school of ''wait, we have food?'' as I did when it came to tastes. Anything is what we got. I flew down to the nearest automated fast food place with a drive-through and only winced a little when the price came in for our order. Still, it was more of a habit wince than something actually painful. I''d grown somewhat rich recently. A few burgers and fries and some sides wasn''t going to sink me too badly. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I regretted getting a bike instead of something a little more comfortable, since eating while sitting in tandem was less than ideal, and there was no protection from the weather, so I had to set us to hover under one of those huge billboards tilted back at a 45 degree angle to better splash the cars zipping above. It was, of course, raining. We ended up with a handful of trash, and while I was really tempted to just toss it off into the void below, that would have set a bad example. So I stuffed it into a small compartment on the bike. I''d dump it later, when doing so wouldn''t make me look like a slob. "Alright, that should give us just enough time to make it there and not be any more than five minutes late," I said. "You want to be late?" Rac asked. "If you start showing up early to things, people will start to expect it from you," I said. "It''s customer relations one-oh-one." "I don''t think that''s how it works," Rac said. "Nah nah, trust me," I said before laughing. "Or maybe I just like sleeping in and making up excuses after the fact. Who knows?" "That sounds a lot more likely." The flight over to Saint-J¨¦rome was pretty quick after that. The smaller city really wasn''t all that far from New Montreal. I did slow down a little so that I could peek over the side of the bike and take in the ground flying past. I wasn''t sure I''d be able to see any antithesis from the air, but there might be signs of their presence. The only interesting thing I saw was a convoy of military trucks heading back to New Montreal at a pretty good clip. Another supply run? I''d have to keep that kind of thing in mind once we got things started. Soldiers would be coming and going, and we couldn''t reasonably keep things to ourselves or discreet if we had people leaving. Fuck, we''d have to pay some guys extra to stick around. We made it to Saint-J¨¦rome in short enough order. The city was a little more lively than the last time I''d flown over it. There were large crowds of people from the camps on the southern end of the city moving into row and being guided on foot through the city. It looked like the city was secure enough that people were allowed to go back home. Or it was cheaper to allow people to go back home, and if they discovered some aliens the army missed, their panicked screaming would be enough to let the army know where to start looking. I was hoping that I was wrong about that one. I noticed a few trucks with AA platforms on top of them on the outer edge of the city. The automated guns spun around and tracked us across the sky. It sent goosebumps across my new skin, but none of them opened up on us. I was pretty sure if they did I''d be kind of fucked. But no, we came to a nice, safe landing in the parking lot of the Saint-J¨¦rome hospital. My cat mech was sitting there and... moving its massive head as if it was licking its front paw? "Myalis, why is my mech doing that?" I asked. PR. "Don''t just give me a two-letter answer," I grumbled. ''K. I closed my eyes for a moment. Was Gomorrah''s AI like this? Atyacus always sounded proper and put together. Maybe a little pyromaniac, but I could grow to like burning things, I was sure. The mech being here meant that my favourite French boy was probably around too. And I decided never to speak those words aloud after thinking about it for a fraction of a second. "Alright, let''s go see where the others are at." "Can I be at this meeting too?" Rac asked. "I mean, I can''t see why not? The last two meetings you were at were a lot more secretive." "One was in a lounge, the other in a gym. I don''t even know if that one counted, you were panting half the time." "I''m not that out of shape," I defended. Rac didn''t respond to that. "This meeting will have important army people, no? I don''t know if they''ll like me being there." "Just don''t say anything and look disinterested, you''ll pass as someone who''s meant to be there. If they ask you a direct question, try to sound smart." "How do you even do that?" Rac asked. "See, it''s working already." "Huh?" "Or maybe not," I relented. *** Chapter Thirty-Four - Cant Glare Away the Truth Chapter Thirty-Four - Can''t Glare Away the Truth "As inconvenient as the truth may be, you''ll never be able to glare it away. Not without the Nerikson 1800-series Cybereyes!" --Nerikson ad, 2049 *** The hospital smelled like a hospital. That uncomfortable too-clean scent that came from a million layers of anti-bacterial, anti-fungal, anti-whatever sprays all overlapping, with a nice undertone of bleach and alcohol to spice it up. The smell only distracted me for a bit, though. Rac and I were greeted at the door by a pair of stiff-backed soldier-types. They saluted, said ''ma''am'' to the both of us, then gestured us towards a large elevator at the back which was guarded by a few more soldiers. I nodded to them in return and started that way, only to pause as a gurney was swept through the corridor. It was being pushed by two men that I assumed were army nurses from the strange fatigues with nurse clothes over them and the medic cross on their arms. A doctor, with the ubiquitous white coat ran over and started doing doctor things. The guy on the gurney was a soldier as well, one that looked like he''d been clawed open. "Damn," I muttered. "I guess there''s still fighting nearby?" Rac asked. "We cleared out a nest not far from here and must have killed a thousand bugs in the last day or two," I said. "But there''s always more. They''ll be hiding around the city, and in it. It''s going to be a nightmare to actually get rid of all of them." "Oh," Rac said. "Is this place safe?" "The hospital? Probably. I can''t imagine the army using it without clearing the building first." Actually, from the reports I tapped into only a full third of the building was cleared before use. The rest has been verified, but there''s a team still actively doing a deep search for antithesis life in the hospital. Well, that was concerning. "I guess they needed the facilities badly enough," I muttered. We got into the elevator, then were pushed to the back as someone pushed another gurney in. This one had some kid on it who was too knocked-out to notice much of anything. The nurse pushing the bed didn''t register us until the elevator was going up already. When she did, she jumped and started to apologize but I waved her off. It was fine, we didn''t mind the slight wait. It was one thing to short some exec to get somewhere faster, but I wasn''t a stone cold bitch. I glanced at the chart at the foot of the bed, it was some tablet with a lot of codes, but on looking at it Myalis placed the code translations next to them. Kid had a ruptured spleen? Well, at least that didn''t sound like an antithesis thing. Not that I knew what a spleen was. We left the kid on the second floor, which seemed pretty damned busy, then continued to ride up to the topmost floor of the elevator. According to the panel, it was the admin floor, which I supposed made sense. The bosses would want the nicest view. Stepping out, we were greeted by more soldiers but they quickly let us through, one of them gesturing towards a room where the others were waiting for us. A long conference table was set up in the centre of the room, with General Thibodeau at the far end and all of the commanders minus one lined up to his right. There was Moreau of the scout company, Juno, and Major Tinwhistle of the engineer corp. Across from them, the local samurai were looking like they were trying hard to appear casual. Crackshot was succeeding. He was sitting backwards in a chair in one corner of the table, his old rifle disassembled before him. He had a rag, a bottle of something, and a complete lack of fucks. Hedgehog next to him was sitting too straight, and past him, closer to the middle of the table, were Princess, Knight, and Tankette, the three caught up in some discussion that stalled as I arrived. "Oh good, I''m not too late," I said as I removed my helmet. "Good to see you all! Sorry for getting you all gathered up, but I wanted to talk about the end of the world and how we might need to do something to stop it. It''s kind of importan--" I was cut off as the door into the room slammed open and a familiar face stumbled in. "Ah, criss, j''suis pas en retard?" Ah, christ, I''m not late? "Hey," I said. "Happy you could join us." Little twerp ruined my entrance. "Get a seat." This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Uh-uh," he said before he started towards the samurai side of the table. Then he caught sight of Rac and almost tripped over his own feet. "Oh, salut, all?. Moi c''est Gros Baton, j''pense pas qu''on s''est d¨¦j¨¤ rencontr¨¦s?" Oh, hey, hi. My name''s Gros Baton, I don''t think we''ve met? The twerp, Gros Baton, I suppose, gave Rac a winning smile. The little shit thought he was all suave. It wasn''t working. Rac had mastered the resting bitch face and she shifted her hands to her hips when he extended his for a shake. "Salut," she replied coldly. "She likes them older," I explained. Rac kicked me in the shin. "Who''s your friend?" Tankette asked. "Hello, by the way, I''m Tankette!" "This is Rac, or Racoon, properly. She''s my shadow today. Go sit down, Gros Baton, the chairs won''t eat you. General, do you mind if I take the, uh, metaphorical mic on this one?" "I don''t mind," General Thibodeau said while Gros Baton circled around and sat down. He smiled like he''d just won an award when Rac slipped around and sat in the last free chair next to him. "Okay, well, first thing''s first, Myalis, can you get me something for privacy?" Certainly. Here, only twenty points but it should keep prying ears at bay. A small box appeared on the table, then unfolded itself to reveal a glowy ball thing that was spinning in place atop... what looked suspiciously like a statue of an upside-down cat with all four legs pointing upwards. "Right," I said. "So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, and that''s why I''m going to skip right on past to the good news." "And what''s the good news?" Crackshot asked. "If we all work together, we won''t all die horrifically," I said. "Phobos is rushing our way, but we have a plan. Well, Grasshopper has a plan, but that plan relies on all of us working together." "And what''s the plan?" Hedgehog asked. The officers were interested too. "It''s mostly Grasshopper''s plan," I deferred. "Thank god for that," Hedgehog muttered. He probably didn''t account for my very good hearing. I wanted to glare but... shit, the dude was right. I cleared my throat. "Anyway. Grasshopper says that we need help, so here I am, recruiting you all into helping. We''re going to need a heap of stuff, and I don''t even know where to begin, but the first thing we need is a private, secure staging area, and we''re probably going to need to build stuff there in a hurry." Major Tinwhistle sat up straighter. "You''re gonna need my engineers," she said. "Yup. And we''re going to need a secure perimeter. Both from the aliens who might be pissed that we''re blowing up their moon and also from... you know, everyone else. Corps might wanna steal our ammo, other countries might not like the fact that we''ll have a gun here that can blow up moons. Might even get some pushback from people like the Family. They''re not in any hurry to save everyone before they can get the most concessions out of it." "What sorta ammo?" Crackshot asked. "Might count on you for some of that," I admitted. "I''ve got bombs for days. Gomorrah has... fire stuff. I think we might adopt the good old ''throw shit and see what works'' method on this one. I think we''ll just order up a bunch and then fire it off later." The general raised a hand for attention, somehow he made it look serious and not like a too-old kid in a classroom. "Are you suggesting that we''ll be storing weapons of mass destruction on Canadian soil?" "I mean, we might build a bunker or something for it, so it''ll be under the soil," I pointed out. He didn''t seem to find the distinction funny or relevant. "I''m very much inclined to deny this entire project based on that alone. However... the consequences of failure would be worse for the people, economy, and territory." "You bet," I said. "Besides, if you say no, we''re just gonna do it anyway." He stared. "Really?" "I mean... yes? There''s a dozen samurai on this project. I don''t mean to be a bitch, but we''re getting this done." He nodded. "That''s enough of a reason for me," he said. "Lieutenant Juno, I want you and Moreau to split off three platoons each from your battalions, tell them that this mission is rated above top secret. Tinwhistle?" "Sir?" "Give them whatever they want and make it speedy. Only your best work here. Forget the budget." "Words I''ve always wanted to hear," she said. *** Chapter Thirty-Five - The Cat, the Raccoon, and the Cowboy Chapter Thirty-Five - The Cat, the Raccoon, and the Cowboy "Staggering Number of Samurai Secretly Furries!" --ClickBaitEm headline, 2034 *** There was an awkward lull right after we said we''d get things done, and it was mostly my fault. The soldiers were looking to me to give them more directions. The other samurai were quickly growing impatient, even Tankette seemed a little antsy. "Alright," I said. "I''m calling Grasshopper to get things started. The rest of you... do what you want, but stick around? We''ll have to secure the area quick-like." That seemed to please everyone and at least won me a few seconds. "Rac, go say hi to all the nice samurai." I pushed her forwards, earning a quick and dirty glare before I stepped back and made a call. Grasshopper replied on the second ring. "This is Sue, how can I help you?" I blinked. "Grasshopper?" "Hello, Catherine," she said. "Is everything alright?" "Uh, yeah, look, I''ve secured some help, and I''m in a room with, uh." I did a quick head count. "Five and a half other samurai, not including Gomorrah and Sam-O-Ray who aren''t around yet. We''re ready to kick things off here, but I need more details." "Oh, wow, you work far faster than I expected. Gold star Cat!" "Yeah, thank--" I paused as a small greenish box appeared on the table in front of me. It had little grasshoppers printed along the edge. "Did you really just send me that?" I asked. I didn''t even know samurai could send things this far out. "You deserve it!" she said. "Now, what do you need from me?" "We need the specifics for the gun emplacement. Got the army engineer here with me, and we''re ready to move, we just don''t know where to move to." "I see. Do you mind if I contact the engineer directly?" she asked. "Or I could relay what I think we''ll need through you. It''s mostly about soil density and composition. We need a few specific things for the ideal location." "Right. Myalis, can you grab Major Tinwhistle and fold her into the call?" I asked aloud while waving to the Major for her attention. She sat a little straighter and soon the line clicked and she was greeting Grasshopper. I listened in as the two talked, and was very soon completely out of my depth. Grasshopper hadn''t been lying when she said she wanted to talk about soil composition. The Major and Grasshopper went on and on for a solid five minutes where all I did was stand there with my arms crossed, trying not to breathe hard enough for it to be caught in the call. "Alright, thank you, Major. I''ll be down in about two hours. Catherine, I''ll see you soon!" "Oh, yeah, see you soon," I said before the line went dead. The room had cleared out while we talked, Crackshot was the only samurai left, and he was mostly chatting to Rac about the various bits of his gun he was almost done reassembling. "Do we have a location, then?" I asked. "You didn''t hear?" Major Tinwhistle asked. "In any case, yes. About five kilometres north and west of Saint-J¨¦rome. The new kid, Gros Baton, will be happy, it''s relatively close to his hometown." "Cool," I said. "Can you give me the exact coordinates? We''ll head on over there now and secure the area." She nodded to me, and I soon received a text with a long string of numbers. The GPS coordinates. "The Engineering corp will be arriving there before nightfall. We''ll set up a temporary camp and get to work in the morning." General Thicodeau glanced up from a screen he was working on. "I''ll have the other officers pick out some men they trust. They''ll follow you to the location and set up a guard rotation. Will you be taking one of the mobile bases?" "Maybe the smaller one?" she asked. "Leave the big one back here. The smaller one being gone won''t be as obvious." "I''ll suggest that it''s gone to guard Saint-Colomban. If we move things around appropriately we can make more of the men we''re stationing at this location... hmm, we need a name for it. Let''s call it something inconspicuous. Checkpoint Delta?" The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "That works," Tinwhistle said. She stood up. "I need to start running around to round people up. We''ll be heading out within the hour, two at most. I''ll try to keep the number of trips over to a minimum." "Cool," I said. I was happy that I wasn''t in any way in charge of all this organisational stuff. It wasn''t my type of thing. "I''ll be there for a bit, but I do have some other things to take care of back in the city." Plus I wanted to sleep in my own bed. "I''m sure at least one of the others won''t mind camping with your engineers." "I bet. There isn''t a better group to go camping with, trust me. The normal soldier boys couldn''t start a fire with a flamethrower. And they can barely manage to get their tents open." I grinned, then gestured to Rac that we were heading out. Crackshot slipped a little bolt into place, screwed it in, then lifted his gun off the table and slung it over his shoulder. "Wait up," he said. It didn''t take long for him to collect all of his tools into a little pouch, then he was running over to us. "How many bits of the gun have you replaced?" I asked. Crackshot smiled. "You ever heard about the ship of Theseus?" "Yeah," I said. "No," Rac said at the same time. "Huh, well, it''s this old story. Used to do a lot of reading back home, cause it''s a cheap hobby, you know? Anyway, there''s this king, of Athens. That''s a place in Greece. So, he''s a big deal, does some cool king shit, and he''s got this ship, right?" "Right," I said as we continued through the corridors of the hospital. Not the strangest conversation I''d had recently, to be honest. "So, the people of Athens would ride his ship around every year, as part of this celebration. Which is neat, but they do this for hundreds of years, and that begs the question, is the ship still the same ship if every single part of it was eventually replaced?" "Yeah, obviously, why wouldn''t it be?" I asked. "Is this one of those bullshit anti-prosthetics arguments?" Crackshot smiled and shook his head. "Nah, it''s just an interesting story, I guess. My gun''s the same. I don''t think there''s a single part on here that''s the same as when my grandpa had it, not after so long, but it''s the same gun, yeah?" "I guess so, can''t see why it wouldn''t be," I said. For some reason, Crackshot seemed pretty happy with that answer. Didn''t know what that was all about, but more power to him. "So, the world''s ending, eh?" he said as a sort of conversation starter. "Not if we succeed," I said. "Call me an idiot, but I''m a bit of an optimist." "Nah, never was one for optimism," he said. "But hey, this might be the kick in the ass I need. Will you be needing me right away?" "We''ll be setting up a base camp until Grasshopper arrives. Got something that needs doing?" "Yeah," he said with a serious nod. "If the world''s gonna end, then I''m gonna ask Miss Emoscythe Mordeath Noir out on a date." I stared at him for a moment. "Alright, shit, you''re a braver person than I am." "Yeah, but have you seen her? That is one fine woman." "No arguments there," I said. "Shoot your shot my guy. If she beats the shit out of you after saying no, that''s on you though." He sighed wistfully. "God, I wish." O-kay. And here I was thinking that Crackshot was one of the more level-headed of the bunch. Well, it didn''t matter. "Need my bike or something to get into the city?" "No, she wouldn''t appreciate it if I came around in something that wasn''t me. She puts a lot of weight on one''s self-image." I nodded. My new-ish bounty-hunter look was her fault. Emoscythe really was keen on having a good image. I could see why he''d think it was important before asking her out. We reached the exterior of the hospital where most of the others were lingering. "I''ll see you around, then," he said. "Yeah, good luck." "Good luck, Mister Cowboy," Rac said. "That... is one brave idiot," I said before turning to head out towards the others. *** Interlude - A Crackshots Crack Shot Interlude - A Crackshot''s Crack Shot "What are my chances again?" he asked. It took a moment for Enyries to reply in his head ''Still not great. You have a one in seven thousand-two hundred chance.'' That had gone up a little since last time. Not much, but a little. "A chance is a chance," he said. "You miss every shot you don''t take." ''Well, yes, but sometimes you just miss regardless of whether you took the chance or not.'' He chuckled. "I get that, yeah. But if the world ends, then I want to go out knowing that I took that chance. It''s a man thing." ''If you say so.'' Buying a Romance Chance Calculation Software catalogue had been a weird choice for him. Not that he''d go back on it. It was interesting seeing the results pop up whenever he looked at someone. Some were interesting. Grasshopper was not romantically interested, period. Tankette, however... wow, that lady had wandering eyes. It threw up some weird results sometimes. Hedgehog was... kind of just a picky dude, but that was all. Crackshot had his thing shut off for anyone under eighteen, not because it couldn''t work on them, but because it squicked him out something mighty. Gomorrah was obviously into her maybe-girlfriend, but the Complication Matrix levels there were stupid high. Stray Cat and that Lucy girl? They had the same metrics as some couples he''d met who were happily married for thirty-plus years, which was wild. Cat was one crazy lady, in his humble opinion, and it made him worried about that Lucy girl too because there was no way she was sane if she was into that. None of that mattered at the moment. He was just distracting himself so that he didn''t have to think of what was coming up. He got off his iron horse, then tugged the horse''s rear-view mirror to the side to get a better look at himself. He was in a nice button-up shirt. All the buttons nice and shiny right up to his neck, collar on proper-like. It was a beige and red plaid-like pattern that he enjoyed. His jeans were nice and neat, pleated down the middle because he''d starched and ironed them himself. Bit stiff, but he could live with it. Boots were spit-shined like new. He''d even oiled his spurs. "Right," he muttered. "Now or never." The place was one of the biggest shopping spots in New Montreal. Big enough that even his country-bumpkin self had heard about it in ads and in passing. It was the kind of place that people would take a detour to visit if they had business in the city, just to say that they''d been. It was also where Emoscythe stayed. That might have been part of the mystique, he figured. A woman like that--not just a samurai--staying around was good enough of a reason for anyone to want to visit. He stepped into the place and soon enough he was lost in the crowd. It always unnerved him, how many people there were in the city. Back home the population was in the low thousands. He couldn''t say that he knew everyone, but he knew enough people that everyone he did meet had a friend in common. Everyone was someone''s cousin, neighbour, in-law, or something like that. Out here, in New Montreal? A million people could be on the block he was on and there wasn''t a chance in hell that he''d get to meet even a thousandth of them. He was just some guy in a sea of people, and that unnerved him something fierce. He was dressed a little weird compared to the locals, but not so weird that it stood out. There were two young women giggling next to one of those cardboard stand-ups of... was that that Arm-a-Geddon guy from down south? They had neon hair that waved with their laughter. A group of mercs stomped by further in, six of them circling a totally average looking man. Too average. He looked like Crackshot''s cousin who''d gone into accounting. His cousin never needed an escort like that. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. An elderly man was standing off to the side, doing a weird old dance while Cringecore music played from his walker. Ads blared all over, of course, but there were street vendors shouting over them anyway, because even without Enyries filtering out the more intrusive ads, there was just something about a man calling out for your attention that worked. And then he was in the main bazaar and walking towards a backroom exit. The place had guards. It had electronic surveillance, key-card access on the doors, and turrets hidden in the floor and others in plain sight. None of it tried to stop him. That still felt weird, being someone. As much as he found some of his new samurai... friends a little weird, he did envy some of their confidence. Miss Stray Cat seemed the sort to walk in front of a bus, entirely confident that it would stop for her, and it probably would. Some of the others were more humble with their power and selves, but there was still that undercurrent of... weight to them. None more than the woman he was visiting now. It was a short ride up an elevator, then down another corridor into a lobby space where he was let in without any trouble. The floor was glass, overlooking the bazaar below. He didn''t pay that any mind, not when she was right there. His mouth suddenly felt dry at the sight of her. Emoscythe Mordeath Noir. She stood in the centre of the room like the statue of a goddess ought to stand in the centre of a temple. But she wasn''t a thing of cold marble. No, she was all blacks and black and blacks. Layers of blue-black and purple-black and black-black, slightly different, subtle, all layered over each other in a dress that hinted as much as it shouted. She looked at him for a moment, and then she smiled. A quirk of her purple-painted lips to one side, a flash of perfect teeth. "Hello, Crackshot Cowboy," she said. Her voice was... It was like a cold glass of ice water on one of those days when it got so hot he thought his trailer might melt. "H-howdy, ma''am," he said. "I wasn''t expecting you, of all people," she said. "But it''s a pleasure nonetheless. I see you''ve been taking my advice to heart." "Yes ma''am," he said before he quickly removed his hat. Curse his fool brain, he was forgetting his manners. "Ma''am, I''m here to ask you something that might be inappropriate." She blinked. "Go on?" "I... I wouldn''t normally ask this sort of thing. I''m hardly a brave man, I''m afraid, but I suppose the world ending and all had shaken things loose. Miss Emoscythe Mordeath Noir, would you mind if I asked you out on a date?" She stared for a moment, then laughed, but she covered her mouth. There was mirth in her eyes, but not rejection. "How old are you?" she asked. "Twenty-two," he said. "I''m thirty-two, aren''t I a little old for you?" "I don''t mind that at all," he said. "In fact, I rather like it. Just how I like all the rest of the things I know about you." She tilted her head, exposing just a bit of lace-covered neck. By god, this woman would be the end of him. "You''re bold, aren''t you?" she asked. "I admire your courage, at least." "I reckon it''s not the sort of time for cowardice and hesitance," he said. She laughed, and he felt some of the tension in his shoulders loosening up. "Very well, Mister Crackshot Cowboy. I''ll allow you to take me out on a date." "Really?" he asked. "I mean, yes ma''am. Thank you, ma''am! How''s dinner sound?" "Right now?" "We''ve only got hours to go," he said. There were quite a few hours, of course, but still. He had to move while his bravery lasted. "I suppose I could eat. Dinner?" He nodded. "Dinner with you sounds lovely," he said honestly. The world might be ending but that didn''t mean this wasn''t the best day in his life. "One in seven thousand, eh?" he muttered, a smile sneaking onto his face. *** News: The Contests General Category Winners have been announced! The General Contest has come to a close! And I have had to make some impossibly difficult choices. Still, after much consideration and tallying of votes (why was first place a 4-way tie?!) I''ve come to only one plausible conclusion. We''re getting two first-place winners! The most expensive option, but honestly, these stories deserve it. But before I dive into who won, let me highlight some other stories that did fantastically well! Not to say that I''m not proud of all the participants... Actually, a bit on that before I move on. I''m genuinely amazed and a little humbled by the sheer potential I saw over the course of this contest. So many of my readers, as it turns out, have fantastic amounts of skill. Some of it needs nurturing. I left notes for all of those writers on things they can work on. But what really took me off guard were the number of unique and powerful voices and styles I saw. Some were rough, sure, but it felt like I discovered two dozen really strong writers who just need a bit more practice and time to refine themselves into... competition? Wait, maybe I shouldn''t be encouraging you guys after all... hmm. Anywho~ Let''s highlight some stories that came very close! Tarnished Honor, by the WackyWombat is... genuinely gripping, fast, well-told, and might very well have taken this entire contest if I wasn''t cheating and metagaming as a judge. This story deserves your attention. Wombat has been writing SCS stuff for a while, but this story really highlights how much they''ve grown as an author. It''s just good. The Antithesis Caused My Mid-Life Crisis, by DoomToaster struck a chord with me too. Maybe not as polished, but just brimming with potential. It''s worth giving it a try as well. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. A few others that came close... Undercity Ronin, Most (Un)Manly, and CyroGhost. All super cool and unique takes! But, we''re here for the winner(s), so, without further ado... The General Category Winners for the 2024 Stray Cat Strut Fanfiction Contest are... Libitina, by NiameScrawls, and HAVOC, by Kenny Celican! Woo~ Claps all around! Libitina is... genuinely the best start to an SCS fanfic I''ve yet seen. Masterful tone setting, lots of dystopian vibes, a main character with issues... god, so many issues, so much drama, so much or a broken mess of a person. It''s delicious to watch, written at a high professional standard, and leaves you wanting so much more! HAVOC made me cry. I''m not even kidding. I had to put it down, give Molly some walkies, and then return to it. Kenny is a good writer, one who''s been improving slowly but surely with lots of dedicated practice. Their technical skills are a smidge lower than NiameScrawl''s, which almost cost them the contest, but their emotional skills are... just so good! Any story that can leave you feeling distressed and angry and hopeful is worth the time it took to read, and HAVOC hits all of those notes! So yes! I''ll be posting the two winner''s stories here as new chapters momentarily. Please give them a read, I swear they''ll be worthy of your time! And to everyone else, thank you! You make a silly birb proud! Keep warm; stay cool, -RavensDagger SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner: Havoc, by Kenny Celican Chapter One: Havoc Right at the beginning of the century we won a huge victory against governments impeding our mandate by inserting the concept of government ''death panels'', denying care to terminal patients, into the public consciousness. Employees mistakenly referring to Terminal Care Triage Officers or Offices as ''death panels'' will be penalized, up to and including loss of all company sponsored health care.

No-Sick Medical Savings Plan Management Corporation

*** Grief is a strange thing. Nothing but personal anecdotes for this, but it''s even stranger when you''re not ''normal''. You know, not ''straight'', ''cis'', ''neurotypical''. All that good stuff. Today I''m sitting here grieving one of the two women sitting in front of me talking. If she thought about it, if she still could think about it, she''d probably tell me to stop. Let me cry on her shoulder; Hold me, like I wish I could hold her right now. I mean, I''m holding her hand, and she isn''t pulling away like she might on a bad day. I still remembered the brief, shining window of time when people would come up to us and comment on our public displays of affection, and she''d look them square in the eye while she pulled me in for some good old-fashioned tonsil hockey. But now she can''t even remember those times. Not really. Her augs remind her, and it helps sometimes. But today? I can tell her mirror scared her too much to believe what the augs told her this morning. "Hey, Mom." Our older boy looks uncomfortable as he speaks through the split screen of the tablet his daughter brought with her today. His younger brother takes up the other half of the screen, but I can tell by the look on his face he''s doing something else right now. I can''t really blame him. He handles grief more like me; Hold it back until some weird quiet moment feels safe enough, then let the gritty sludge that remains leak out until the pressure is gone. He''s here though, here for his mom despite all their incessant spats over the years. The love of my life looks at our boy, glances at me, takes in my nod, and smiles at him. "Hello son. How are you doing today?" "I''m¡ I''m good, Mom." He''s breaking down already. He couldn''t make it in person today, and I''m almost glad he couldn''t. I want her last day to be as happy as it can be, and he''s about to lose it. I click my tongue a little, and he looks at me. "Have you taken your allergy meds?" He hasn''t needed those for years, not on a regular basis. "I don''t need them, Dad." I smile. "You look a little puffy. You don''t want Mom to remember you all puffy and sneezing, with your eyes running, do you?" He finally takes the hint. "Nah, nah, you''re right. I''m good for now though." His smile is brittle, but he keeps it up like a trooper. "Just let us know when you need to go. Looks like you got into something pretty bad. Maybe at work?" "Yeah, probably at work. Hey, Mom, did you get the pictures I sent you of Sol?" She pauses, checking her augs. "Oh, yeah, I did! They''re getting so big!" "He, Mom." "He?" "He." She nods, trying to hide her embarrassment at misgendering her own grandson. "How old is he now?" That almost breaks him, but he hangs in there. "He''s fourteen, Mom. Just turned fourteen last month." She tries again. "He¡ looks a lot like you did back when you were his age." I realize she''s slipped, that the augs aren''t catching her. I step in before she gets too lost. "I can see it. In the face. He''s got your nose. Your eyes. He''s definitely got the build you had back then." She tries to recover, tries to pretend like she remembers. "Oh. Oh, yes. You look¡ like¡ your father did at your age." I snort. "Yeah, ''cept he''s still got all his hair." I rub my hand across the top of my head, feeling the stubble where long ago I had a widow''s peak, and the smooth skin around it. My dad used to use it for a combover. I usually just shaved that bit down, leaving a halo of hair around the back of my head at the level of my temples. She told me to do that after the time I used enough product to make it stick out like a unicorn horn. Before anybody uses the word ''simp'', she''s the love of my life, and from the first time she said yes, making her happy was more important to me than anything else. More important than actual important shit. Way more important than some trivial detail like my hairstyle. She wants my hair short, I cut it short, she wants it long, I grow it long. I don''t give a shit about anything but making her happy. Not sure I ever did. I tap my augs to check our bank account. Her living will came into play when it got low enough, because she didn''t want me starving on the street because of her medical bills. She recorded that decision in her augs decades ago, before she needed them to remind her of the date. The month. The year. The name of the man sleeping next to her. "Hey, Dad? I gotta go. Loonie, you gonna come home soon?" My granddaughter sighs, her dark fingers interlacing with my own. Someday in the future she''ll be in my position. I don''t envy her that. She''ll have her brother for backup, though, and I do envy that. She''s here to support me, but mostly because I just don''t have the energy to dispose of the cremains the way my love always told me she wanted. I mean, what my wife wants is illegal as fuck, but neither Loonie nor I give the first shit about that. "I''ll come visit when I''m done helping Granddad." "Okay." He sniffles. "Sorry, Mom. I gotta¡ I gotta go. I love you." "I love you too, son." In that one phrase I hear the thing I''ve always loved most. She sees someone hurting and no matter her own pain and confusion she steps up to help. In that moment she does love him. Maybe a tiny bit of it is her confusing him for me. Maybe another tiny bit is her playing the role of Mom. But most of it? It''s the purest kind of love, looking at another human being and just¡ caring for them. Not because you''re obligated, but because they''re another human being. Our older boy disconnects, and I tap into my wife''s augs. Then I do the same with the machine behind her, letting me hear the beeps we''ve silenced so she won''t be curious and look. Won''t twist her head around and feel the shunts keeping her alive. The ones that''ll stop keeping her alive in another half hour or so when all our carefully hoarded and frugally spent medical funds run out. I''ve got half an hour left before I''m alone. Loonie will stick around long enough to collect the cremains, but she''s only got so much time off work, and if she doesn''t use it when she''s scheduled to, starting a few hours from now, she''ll still lose it. Right now, she''s gaming the system just like I taught her, sitting with a terminal patient in her cafeteria, so she can wheel her corpse away before any of the other customers freak out. At that point it''ll just be me. I technically have enough in my account to survive at least another few years, especially if I frugal it up and move back in with my nephews; we own the property, so all I''ll need to pay for is food and my share of the utilities. I''m not gonna do that, though. We talked about it decades ago. Well, I rambled on until she turned to me and said, ''don''t be lonely''. So, I won''t. There are a few places in the world where for the right price, you can get not just companionship, but companions that come with their own stockpile of drinks and drugs and toys and tricks, and where if you pay a little extra and sign a waiver, they won''t worry about things like ''you''re not healthy enough for that''. They''ll ignore every warning until it''s way, way too late. Seriously, a Plexiglas coffin that puts me to sleep? I couldn''t do that. I could buy enough booze and downers to put myself down, but there''s no guarantee I could keep them down, or take enough. Some kind, misguided soul might call an ambulance. But this way? I''ll have somebody there who knows what I want. Maybe even somebody kind enough to hold me till I flatline. Maybe not, maybe I''ll get somebody who just takes my money, locks the door, and walks away, leaving me to die alone. But that''ll be fine too, so long as they let me go. "Rat? You got anything you wanna say to Mom?" Our younger boy jerks a little as my tone jerks him out of his hyper focus. "Oh! Yeah, sorry. Little distracted." He looks up at his mom, and I see in his eyes that he knows she probably doesn''t know him. "I love you, Mom. Even if I don''t show it right. But I do. Always have, always¡" The screen cuts out, leaving us and our granddaughter disconnected from our son, her uncle. The lights cut out, leaving us in darkness. The machines over my wife''s shoulder cut out, leaving me in silence. It could be a power outage. Those happen, down here where the buildings predate the megastructures above. Not that Philly is a proper ''megacity'', really. It''s got some megascrapers, it''s got an undercity, but between the river, the uneven terrain, the tradition of keeping the city low to the ground, the undercity never quite fell into quite as much disrepair as it did in places like New York. Of course, the parts that most resemble a Megacity are those here in what used to be Center City. One of the support pillars for the megascraper above us is visible through the broad windows set high up on the walls of the cafeteria. When I worked here sixty years ago, this room could never really be dark like it is now. Loonie stands up, a dim silhouette in the darkness. "I''ll go check¡" Our augs receive an alert at the same time. Antithesis Incursion Detected. Proceed to the nearest shelter. The message loops, and I hear scattered screams around the room. The lights come back up, but people are still starting to panic. I look at my wife''s life support gear. It hasn''t come back on. The simple readout that shows her basic vital signs: heart rate, respiration, oxygen levels, shows nothing but a flatline for another ten seconds, then goes into power saving mode. I decide right then and there that I won''t be leaving this room. I push myself to my feet, using my augs to transfer the remainder of my worldly funds and possessions to Loonie. "Loonie?" She looks at me, and I see my quick-witted granddaughter realize what her sudden influx of modest wealth means. "Granddad, no." I shake my head. "You get these people out of here, Loonie. Just do me a favor and prop the outer doors open before you go." "Don''t you mean closed?" I smile. "I know what I said. Now, go." She nods, sadly, but before she goes, she puts her arms around my wife. "Goodbye, Grandmom. I love you." Then it''s my turn. "Goodbye, Granddad. I love you." Then she leaps to stand on the table, her voice ringing out through the cafeteria, cutting through the increasingly panicked chatter. "Everyone! Listen to me! There''s a shelter right nearby! A decent one; not real big, but it''s solid." "Nothing down here is solid enough!" Somebody screams. "This one''s old, built to withstand nukes. It might not be comfortable, but once we get in and shut the doors, it''ll take the Antithesis days to dig us out." "But they will!" "Shut the fuck up!" Somebody else shouts the naysayer down. "She works here, she oughta know all the good hiding spots!" They turn to Loonie, "How do we get there?" Loonie points at some side doors that lead deeper into the hospital. "Head through those doors, take a right, and head straight until you see the stairs down. Then just follow the signs for the fallout shelter." "What are you gonna do?" "I''ll be right behind you all, I''m gonna lock up as I follow, just to buy us some more time to get there and get locked in. Grab all the premade sandwiches and bottled drinks that you can; I know the shelter is solid, but I''m not sure how well it''s stocked." "We can''t afford all that!" Loonie snorts. "Afford? The Antithesis ate it all. Fuck anybody who says otherwise." So proud of her. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. That breaks something loose in the crowd. Suddenly all of them hit the coolers, grab everything they can, and head for the doors she''d pointed out. Loonie herself walks over to the big exterior doors, flips a few levers around, and shoves them open. While she fixes the doors, I push myself up, lay a kiss on my wife''s cooling forehead, and connect to her augs. "Dear heart?" Her response, for once, is free of her usual fear. Maybe it''s because without sight, without actual sound, without the feel of her body failing around her, all she hears is my voice and her own fading thoughts. The voice that replies from deep inside her brain, the voice she thinks to herself in, the voice from my memories of over six decades ago when we met, startles me. "What''s going on?" I sigh, walking toward the doors from the cafeteria into the kitchens. "You''re dying. The power went out, and your life support cut out. You''ll love why." "Hmm?" I pull open the doors, sliding the big fans that keep the kitchen temps at vaguely survivable levels over to prop them open, pointing out into the big multi-story room of the cafeteria. "Antithesis Incursion. By the stats I''m seeing, a big one. Two of the big landing pods are gonna land right on us." "Fuckin'' Murphy." I step into the oppressive heat of the kitchen, crank all the burners up to max, especially the deep fryers. I toss stuff into the fryers and onto the grill, some meat, but mostly carrots, onions, and celery. The old school aromatics. Then I find a whole jar of garlic and dump that in too. You can never use too much garlic. "Yep. Our house totem strikes again." "Will everyone be okay? You should go help." So much the woman I fell in love with. I''ve got three, maybe four minutes left before her brain burns through the little oxygen it has left, and our last conversation will be over. My augs won''t connect direct or override hers from anyplace further than the cafeteria. I don''t think she knows that, but I know she doesn''t care. "I am helping, love. Setting out a stanky buffet for the plants. Slow them down, keep them here while everyone who can run does." "You can''t run?" I throw some other stuff on a cart, preparing something else I might do, but not ready to do it yet. "Nah. Not for decades now. Been disabled since the teens, love." Her next words are quieter. "How long has it been?" "Too long. Not long enough. Just a moment." I leave our augs connected. Finally done shoving the doors open and blocking them that way, Loonie runs up to me. "Can¡" She chokes back tears. "Can I do anything else before I go?" "Pop open Grandmom''s oxygen tank? I want to breathe easy in my last minutes. Any others lying around too. But be quick, I don''t want them following you." She nods, pulls me into an embrace, then scurries about the task I set her. "Who was that?" I smile as I angle the fans to blow the overwhelming scent of cooking oil and food out into the room. If I fill the room, some will leak out into the street. "Loonie. Our granddaughter. Good¡" "Get her out of here!" I smile, looking around for more stuff for my cart, loading it as I find it. "She''s about to leave. All I''d do is slow her down. She''s just helping me set up some more lures before she goes. Then she''ll catch up with everybody else; she''s the one who''s gonna lead them to the shelter." "Oh." Her voice is a little softer. A little more scattered. Maybe a minute or two more. "Tell her we''re proud of her." Loonie makes one last pass by me, one more attempt, but I cut her off before she can speak. "Loonie? I just want you to know, your Grandmom and I are both so, so proud of you. You get those people to the shelter safely, you hear me?" Then her arms are around me, squeezing, crushing me. I think she might even be cracking my ribs, but I don''t give a shit. I put my arms around her and squeeze back. Then she turns, crying, and sprints for the doors. I get it. In her shoes? I wouldn''t be able to leave if I said anything either. I leave my cart by the fans and walk back to my wife''s slumped body. "Kinda stupid of me to ask, but anything else you want me to do? Before you go? Or even after?" I take her hand in mine as I sit down, and she whispers into my head, "I''ll let you know." We sit there like that, the food smell growing stronger, as her last seconds tick down. "Are you cooking?" "Kinda sorta." "Oh. I smelled it, but then it went away." Tears run down my face. Funny. Now, at the very end? I seem to be grieving sort of properly. Or no. Somehow my neurospicy brain has decided that now feels ''safe enough''. Fuck it. Not like anyone will see it. Not like I''d care if they did. "Your sense of smell has gone then." I squeeze her fingers. "Can you feel my hand in yours?" "Ye¡" A long pause grips my heart. "Not anymore." "Fuck." "Little late for that." "Little late for everything except¡ I love you. I always have. Every second of every minute of every day for the last sixty-three years." No response. Just a kind of warm sigh. I settle in, waiting to see an alien in person for the first time in my life. Then a single word wafts out of her augs. "Chosen?" She hasn''t called me by that pet name since back in the nineties. "Yes, Beloved?" One final word comes through, a ghost of a sigh, one I only recognize and understand because I''ve heard her speak it so often in jest, in play, in frustrated rage. This time nothing marks it but final sincerity. "Havoc." I don''t know if she hears my response. I hope she does and leaves this mortal coil with a smile on her soul. I hope she doesn''t feel obligated to respond, or like I had to have the very last word. "As you wish." I never realized she knew I''d thought about something like this. Always thought I''d kept this side hidden well enough. That all the jokes where I''d obscured the truth with laughter had passed her by. I''d always feared she wouldn''t stay if she knew. I set her hand on her lap, stand up, and walk back to the fans. As I walk, I initiate a cross-load of all the data from her augs to mine. Then another script that triggers a cascade of deletions, not just from my augs, but everywhere I''ve visited and lurked over the past few decades. Online, Mesh, Corp sites I spent a lot of time on. Hot, greasy wind blasts me in the face as I approach the kitchen. I step in, turn off all the burners, count to ten, then flip the gas back on, careful not to activate the auto-ignition. I step out to the fans and my cart. One at a time I grab each of the bags on the cart, rip them open, and fling the contents into one fan or the other, blasting their contents out into the big open space of the cafeteria. Flour. Powdered sugar. Even a few big containers of powdered spices. Anything powdered and flammable. It''s hard to breathe when I take my first step back toward our table. I lean on the wall. There''s a fire alarm right there. I smash it, pull it, and stumble back to where my wife''s body sits. Halfway there I stop to lean against a popcorn cart. I notice something, shrug, and screw the feed hose off the propane tank, cranking the feed open with my other hand. I finally drop into my chair and take her hand in mine. The pungent chemical they add to cooking gas to make the methane easier to detect wafts into my nose. With my free hand I scrabble in my vest pocket as I check my augs. I''ve cross-loaded everything she''s recorded over the decades. I''ll never have a chance to look at it, but I''d done it for the same reason I hold her hand; I couldn''t not do it if I tried I check my scripts, or what''s left of them as they''ve gone on their targeted rampage across the electronic landscape. All the telltales come up green. Good thing, I couldn''t follow up if I wanted to. It took me decades to fall prey to the same kind of thing that stole my wife away from me so long ago, but after watching her I''d seen it coming. She grew terrified of the woman who haunted her mirrors. I gradually fixated on people ''spying'' on my online presence. But I''d leaned on my augs far earlier, lost far less of me, managed to beg, borrow, or steal the code for my scripts. Nothing better to do with my time over the past three decades but geek out over the real-life superheroes fighting against the alien invaders and compile an electronic cluster bomb that would erase all electronic traces of my existence. Had to have hobbies to fight mental decay, after all. But by now the scripts I''d set off have hashed, changed, deleted, or otherwise screwed with every trace of my identity I''d left behind, including the scripts themselves. Including my own augs. I''m okay with that. I''ve always been sort of fluid, and where others like me sought out the perfect label to represent their fluidity, I just let everyone call me what they would. My identity is me, not a collection of syllables. So now nobody can track any of what I''m about to do back to me, because ''me'' doesn''t exist. More importantly? Our boys? Sol? Loonie? None of them will get a bill for it. I send a message to the hospital, to building management in the megastructure above us, to what remains of the city government. "I have placed a large-scale improvised explosive device next to Jefferson megascraper support D, and will detonate it shortly. Evacuate or seek shelter immediately." My due diligence done, I focus on the feel of my wife''s right hand in my left, trying to ignore the hard metal in the palm of my right hand. She gave it to me a while back, a sort of random gift, something I thought looked cool. I don''t think she ever thought I''d use it for something like this. Then again, she stayed with me all those years. Stayed when she knew, even though I thought she didn''t. We sit there like that for a while, until I hear scrabbling outside the big outer doors. I watch the first couple aliens enter the cafeteria. Quadrupeds with tripartite jaws. Model Threes. After a handful come in, a smattering of little flying guys swoop over their heads. Model Ones. "Fuckin'' seagulls." The air tastes heavy with grease and faux methane smell. The room spins, and my head flops back. I''m barely able to see the windows from all the powder in the air. The Model Threes see the movement, moving towards us at a cautious saunter. If we ran or charged, they''d be aggressive, but this? We''re just more biomass in a room that reeks of it. I''m from Jersey, not Philly like her. But after sixty years, not to mention me tying the augs that were us together, the line where one of us ends and the other starts is almost meaningless. So, our last words are a m¨¦lange of traditional Philly and Jersey greetings to our interstellar visitors, with our own pedantic loquaciousness tying it all together. "Welcome to Philly. We see you''ve taken it upon yourself to fuck around. You are now cordially invited to find out, then go the fuck home." We press the button on my jet lighter. Light. Sound. Motion. Pain. Darkness, silence, and crushing weight. We have no idea how, but we''re conscious. We think. If this is the afterlife, it''s remarkably boring. No light, no sound, just a vague sense of pressure. But we''re here together, I guess. Could be worse. Then, a single voice, beautiful in its purity and sense of purpose, rings through our head. System Initialized! Congratulations. Through your actions you have proven yourself worthy of becoming one of the Vanguard, a defender of humanity. I am Stryt. I will assist you to uplift humanity so that you may defend your homeworld from the Antithesis threat! Rise, #!#!@$@ #!@!%!@@#@!@), and become a protector of the weak! *** You can find more of Kenny''s works here: Kenny Celican''s Fictions | Royal Road If you enjoyed Havoc, then you should check it out on RR and encourage Kenny to write more! SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner: Libitania, by NiameScrawls Chapter 1 INCURSION DETECTED. PLEASE REMAIN CALM, AND PROCEED TO THE NEAREST SHELTER. Libi jerked back as the bright red letters flashed across her augs, startling her into dropping the fine white chalk she had been using. "Please try not to panic, everyone," she shouted, the noise of her voice failing to mask a loud CRACK as her chalk shattered across the ground. Suppressing a curse that would have deducted her teaching score, Libi bent down to carefully collect the precious shards. Chalk was an expensive and messy alternative to the usual digi-pen every classroom came with, but Libi could afford to be old-fashioned. "Does it look like we''re panicking, Professor?" A cool, elegant voice interrupted her thoughts, courtesy of a tall, bespeckled young man. His black slicked back hair looked a bit like a giant snail had given him a comb over, but apparently that was all the rage amongst the students these days. "No, Curtis," Libi sighed, straightening up again. ''You''re all far too callous to panic.'' Libi managed to cut off the rest of the thought before it escaped her lips, but it hung heavy on her mind as she looked over her class of excitedly whispering students. It was a sight Libi was uncomfortably familiar with; sixty-two students of Dal-Corp''s finest freshmen eagerly chattering over a world of death and destruction that they thought only existed in their augs. They were spread out across the tiered seating of the lecture hall. Each sat behind an enormous black desk that resembled a barricade more than a piece of furniture; a design that made every lecture feel more like a siege than a lesson. The room itself did little to discourage that impression; brutalist concrete walls created monoliths to a distant, uncaring ceiling of black obsidian. The primary splash of colour came from the floor; a bloody red carpet strung atop a black marble floor like circuitry across a motherboard. It was a look that matched how every class felt; a training camp for soldiers of cold logic of which Libi unwillingly commanded. As for the students themselves, collectively they represented some of the wealthiest and most powerful corpo families Nova Halifax had to offer; plus a few token scholarship cases thrown in with the mix. Regardless of their circumstances, they all attended class consistently. Libi wasn''t sure what it was that drew them to her lectures so much, but it certainly wasn''t to learn; at least judging by the way the students eagerly whispered amongst themselves as they scrolled through their augs. Another example of Libi''s failure to teach them anything other than biology. The incursion notice had whipped them up into a gossiping frenzy, with some even making bets - as if a live alien invasion was an exciting game show. Not that Libi was any better. She was amongst the fortunate few, lucky enough to escape the horrors of nightmarish monsters rampaging through the streets. None of them had to watch their family members get torn shreds before them, nor hide under the bodies of the- Libi cut the thought short before it went any further. "Take a five minute break," she sighed. There was no point trying to teach when they were so distracted. "Call your families, check on your friends, scroll your aug feeds. We''ll resume class after we''ve had a chance to decompress." The students immediately exploded into activity as their shackles were released, crowding around one another to gossip and chatter about the extra dimensional invasion. The only exceptions were the few scholarship students who immediately began making desperate phone calls to their families, their voices drowned out by the excited chatter and laughter of those who had no reason to worry for their families'' safety. Libi chose to copy the scholarship students'' actions. Finding a private corner in the hall, she pulled up her contacts and called the only favorited number there. "Mrs. Irvil!" The phone barely had a moment to start paging before it was answered by a voice riddled with anxiety. "Victoria. I believe I asked you not to call me that," replied Libi, her own voice immediately cooling. "Ah- right- I''m sorry, Dr. Libitina," stammered the young woman on the other end. "I sometimes forget-" "How are my children doing?" interrupted Libi. "Are they safe?" "Yes! Adrian expressed some anxiety, and Adrianna asked after you, but I was able to distract them with a book." "Good. Keep them off the aug streams; they''re full of chatter about the antithesis, and I don''t want the children to have anything to do with it," replied Libi curtly. "R-righto! No problem!" "Has my husband called yet?" "Uhhh..." Victoria''s awkward silence was an answer in itself. "Last I spoke to him was last week, I think." "What about my mother?" The hesitation in Victoria''s voice worsened. "I tried calling the house earlier, but Jeeves told me that she was still in her VR Pod." Libi sighed; it was only to be expected. Her mother had probably disabled her emergency alerts; she had claimed it caused too much anxiety. "I-I''m sure they''ll call soon! After all-" "Just- " Libi cut her off. "Let me know if either of them reaches out, otherwise don''t worry about it." "Yes, of course. Ah, would you like to speak to the children? They''re anxious to see you." Libi froze as a moment of panic suddenly jumped her like a black bear pouncing on a salmon. Libi swallowed, hesitating- maybe it wouldn''t be so bad if she didn''t say anything. Hung up, moved on with class; it wasn''t like the kids would be traumatized by missing one phone call. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. "Dr. Libitina?" "I- sorry, Victoria. What was the question?" said Libi, a pathetic attempt to buy herself time. "Your children. Could you speak with them? They''re anxious to hear from you." A familiar sensation overcame Libi - a cold, dead weight that settled on her chest, suppressing fear, hate, love and joy, all. Logic, a pure and simple equation that she fell back on when feeling overwhelmed. Sometimes, it was the only thing that kept her going. "Y-yes. Of course. Put them on the line. Please." A moment of silence passed as Victoria moved the call from her augs to a portable cell - an archaic device necessary due to Libi''s insistence that the children not receive implants till puberty. "Mama! Are you there?" Libi swallowed, hoping her augs didn''t pick it up. "Adrianna. Hello. Is Adrian there?" "Yeah. He''s here." "Hi Mama." "Hello. Are you both well?" "Yeah." Adrian''s voice seemed hesitant, unsure; almost nervous. "Are you certain?" Libi cursed herself for how cold her voice sounded. "Yeah," answered Adrianna in his stead. The twins sounded identical to most, but Libi could detect the slight tonal difference between the pair; as well as the deep fear Adrianna was trying to hide. "Good. Mama will be home late tonight. Be good, and listen to Victoria. Tell me if there are any problems." A moment of silence followed. Libi closed her eyes, and tried not to bang her head against the wall. "Okay. Love you." The last sentence was a barely audible whisper. Libi ended the call, the words ''Love you too'' dying on her lips before they could be vocalised. ''Good job Libi. Very comforting for eight year olds to hear. May as well add a few more zeros to their twenty year therapy bill now, why don''t you.'' It was the first thought that day she didn''t cut short. - When she turned back to the class, the students were still buzzing about like bees. "Alright, everyone back to your seats. Augs off, please," she called loudly, her voice easily drowning out the chatter. "We still have an exam on Wednesday, and unfortunately Dal-U Corp does not accept alien invasions as a valid excuse for half of my class failing." "Professor! Do we have to continue?" whined a neon pink haired girl. "This might be my only chance to become a samurai!" "No one in this classroom is becoming a samurai, let me assure you of that, Annie," answered Libi emphatically. "The requirements for ascension are well known, and you''re more likely to die of an aug-short than fight an alien. Now, if there are no further interruptions, can we please continue with the class?" she asked, trying and failing to keep the exasperation out of her voice. Fortunately, it was enough for the students to begrudgingly focus their attention onto her. "I know the history of marine biology is hardly exciting compared to an Incursion, but I may as well make today''s lesson relevant. Can anyone tell me the basic components of an Antithesis cell?" An unsteady silence began to settle over the class as they considered the question. "Annie, you know I can see you looking up the answer, right? An Incursion may be happening, but the school''s anti-cheat hasn''t stopped working." The neon pink girl merely stuck her tongue out at her, switching her augs over to a Princess Magical Bubblegum Apocalypse stream as she did so. Libi sighed and pointed instead at a different student whose hand was hesitantly raised. "Yes, Erika?" "Cell walls, chloroplasts¡ and¡ vacuoles?" she answered, her usual English lilt tilting up in skepticism. "Correct, but you''re still missing a few components. What makes them different from typical plant cells?" "They''re out to kill everyone?" said a young man with long spiky hair, eliciting a half-hearted laugh from the class at the attempted humour. "Well, you''re not wrong there. But does anyone know why?" Another moment of silence followed before Erika tried again. "Trogon¡aptic?" "Trogonanaptyx. From the Greek phrase Tr¨®gontas an¨¢ptyxi, meaning eating growth," Libi said, writing down the spelling of the word as she spoke. "It''s an enzyme, specialized in breaking down foreign organic material into usable DNA. An Antithesis cell can then use this DNA information to divide, creating new cell variations far quicker than normal evolutionary methods." "This then leads to a form of ongoing biological warfare within an Antithesis Hive, with successful variations-" She cut off as a second set of bright red letters blared across her augs, blinding her for a second time that day. ATTENTION! DAL-U CORP FACILITIES ARE UNDER IMMEDIATE LOCKDOWN DUE TO ANTITHESIS BREACH. TAKE SHELTER IN THE NEAREST CLASSROOM AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS It turns out they DO know how to properly react to an Incursion, thought Libi idly as she watched the class turn into a screaming panic. *** You can find more of Niame''s works here: Niame''s Fictions | Royal Road If you enjoyed Libitina, then you should check it out on RR and encourage Niama to write more! She also has an Instagram: Login ? Instagram and a discord: Discord - Group Chat That''s All Fun & Games Chapter Thirty-Six - Diggy Diggy Hole Chapter Thirty-Six - Diggy Diggy Hole "One must understand physics. It makes it so much more interesting when you bend what you know to be absolutely true over and up and back into itself, because even as we break physics, the fundamental truth of it stands. It just becomes far more complex. And I think that''s beautiful!" --Grasshopper''s Guide to Physics for Kids for K-3, 2055 *** The next morning, after a nice breakfast, catching up with the Kittens around the house, and giving Lucy a parting kiss that broke the minute mark, I picked up Rac from her corner of the house, then headed out again. I could have stayed at the site the night before but... why would I ever want to do that? Sleep in a tent that belonged to some sweaty soldier or sleep in my bed, at home, with a warm Lucy? It wasn''t even a choice. Rac seemed to prefer to head back home as well, which was only fair. What was more surprising was discovering her ready to head out the next morning. I half expected her to want to go out and do her own shit. Still, I decided not to comment on it. I knew for a fact that if I was doing something helpful for someone and they made a comment, even a positive one, the chances that I''d want to keep it up were slim. Oh, and I had to gear up a little better. The day before I''d been heading out in more casual gear. It was a little strange to think that I had enough clothes, let alone armour, that I had to choose between sets, but that''s how it was. Lucy had found a place to dry-clean that armour I''d... shed in. I inspected it real close and didn''t find anything suspicious or gross, so that''s what I was wearing again. It was better armour in any case, and it was the set that Emoscythe had helped design. We rode my bike back across the city and through the countryside beyond. When we arrived near the site I noticed two things. First, we weren''t alone in the air. There were several balloons hovering a kilometre or so up in the air. Looking at them made my augs fritz a little on the edges, like they were glitching out. The balloons were set in a circle around the entire site at more or less even intervals. The second thing I noticed was that shit had been moving overnight. I wasn''t sure what criteria Grasshopper had for a space, but they''d found it in what was essentially a roadside stop. One of those little sideroads that lead to what was basically a large parking space in the middle of fuckall nowhere. It was surrounded by some sparse forest that was overtaking what had probably been fields once. When I''d left, the engineers were going to set up a camp. Tents, the mobile base, some trucks and shit. It wasn''t fancy. Now? There was a trench being dug out of the earth by three tractors. A crane was set up to one side, moving loads of crap out of the way. Dump trucks were moving about, and there were six cement mixer trucks parked in a neat row off to one side with their drums spinning away. There were more people, too, moving with speed. I''d seen a few construction sites here or there. I''d never seen one where the workers all jogged around as if their boss was whipping their asses. "Looks busy," Rac said. "Yeah," I said. I noticed a few Samurai cars parked way off to the side where they wouldn''t be in the way. My mech was there, as was Gomorrah''s Fury and Tankette''s... shit, what had she called her tank? Oh, and Grasshopper''s entirely out of place little car too. I pulled my bike in next to her car, then climbed off and adjusted my coat while Rac looked past me. All of the construction work was kicking up a whole load of dust into the air. There was more organisation to it than I''d realized, though. The moment we were closer, my augs pinged me, letting me know that there was a site-wide alternate-reality system in place over this area and asking me if I wanted to join into it. I accepted since Myalis wasn''t kicking up a fuss. That lit up areas in different colours, threw up warnings into the air, and painted a dozen lines and dots across my vision. No wonder people were walking past each other without colliding. Someone, or something, was orchestrating all of the work, and it was doing it at the kind of pace that was probably well-past sustainable. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. We navigated through the area, apparently already having clearance to pass. The AR system directed me and Rac over to the mobile base which had one side unfolded and covered in tarps to create a bigger pavilion. I found the other Samurai within, as well as Major Tinwhistle and what had to be a half-dozen lower-ranked officers. "Stray Cat!" Grasshopper said. She was dressed in a cute, if modest, summer dress. It was railgun patterned, with the streaking lights coming out of the barrels drawing lines across her dress. She still had all the arms though, and a rifle slung over her back that looked like it could take out a tank. "Hey," I said before stepping aside to let some hard-hat wearing guy past. "Damn, this place is busy." "It is! At this rate the location will be ready for the installation by nightfall." "The installation?" I asked. "She means the big gun," Gomorrah said as she stepped over. "We''ve been going over all of the details for it. It''s good that you''re here, we''re going to need some of your catalogues to help." "None of my catalogues are that expensive," I said. "Yes, but if we don''t use them, then it won''t count as though you helped. Well, it won''t count as much. You did organise some of this," Gomorrah said. Right, we were trying to game the system a little. The system run by the AIs in our heads who definitely knew what we were thinking. "Well, if you''ve cleared it out with our passengers." I gestured to my head. "Then I guess it''s fine. What are we going for here?" "Oh! Let me show you!" Grasshopper said. She reached down and took my hand, then started to pull me towards the door only to stop on seeing Rac. "Raccoon! Oh, a pleasure to see you again. How are you feeling today?" I suffered through some pleasantries, not quite daring to pull my hand free from Grasshopper''s grip because that might have been just a little too rude. She chatted with Rac, then remembered that she was leading me somewhere. So back outside we went, this time straight towards the big hole that was being dug out. It was long and pretty narrow, maybe thirty-ish metres wide, a hundred long or so? The hole wasn''t super deep yet, but it looked like it was being dug out. "Once this is done it''ll have room for a cannon half a kilometre long buried twenty metres into the ground and anchored into the bedrock. The water-table here is quite low, and the ground is mostly solid stone. It''s going to make digging deeper a bit tricky, but we have lots of high explosives and plenty of manpower!" "Uh, wait, we''re digging that big of a hole for the base of the cannon?" I asked. Grasshopper turned and blinked at me. "No, it''s for the entire cannon." "So how long is it?" I asked. "One kilometre long," she said. "And we need a kilometre-long base for that?" She stared, then something lit up in her eyes. "Oh! No no, we''re not pointing this upwards, Catherine. This will be level with the ground. Well, level with gravity, actually." "I am real confused," I said. "Isn''t the enemy, you know..." I gestured vaguely upwards. "In space?" "Of course! But shooting something through our atmosphere would be quite silly. The drag, the gravity." She shook her head, then gestured to my hip. "That gave me a brilliant idea." I looked down to where Void Terminus was hanging by my side. I''d gotten pretty used to the sword''s weight by now. "My sword?" "Your sword-shaped portal into space," she corrected gently. "Why shoot through atmosphere when you can fire a quarter-ton sabot through a kilometre-long magnetic rail right into a portal whose exit is already in orbit? In orbit and on its way to Phobos, even! Though at the speed that the exit-portal, or rather the machine holding it, is moving, the difference in range is rather negligible." "Oh," I said. I eyed the growing hole again. "Oh." Yeah, no wonder Grasshopper wanted this to be kept on the down-low. People would shit themselves for this kind of tech, or this kind of weapon. And we were going to use it to punch bullets at space aliens... actually, that was probably a great use for this kind of thing. *** Chapter Thirty-Seven - Honest Samurai Reviews Chapter Thirty-Seven - Honest Samurai Reviews "Look, I don''t care how woke your review is, the audience won''t care what you have to say if you can''t even beat the first fucking level!" -GamersPortal Comment, 2029 *** I kind of expected things to move faster than they were, but it was clear a few hours in that I had set my expectations at one level and reality was conspiring to be at another. Which was fine, I supposed. Basically, while Grasshopper expected the big gun to be ready by nightfall, Major Tinwhistle was a bit more conservative. "By tonight?" she asked when she finally had a spare minute where she wasn''t screaming at people not to fuck up. "I... suppose it''s possible, but only if by tonight you mean before the sun rises. Even then, that means my guys will be working through the night." "Would letting them get some rest be better?" I asked. "Do you work at your best without sleep?" she asked right back. That was a fair point. I wasn''t the best when I was cranky. Grasshopper hummed. "That''s unfortunate, but it''s not altogether unexpected. To be quite honest we are still a ways ahead of where I expected to be, so I can hardly complain. You''ve been doing good work. All of your people have." Major Tinwhistle nodded, but by the set of her shoulders I could tell she was proud to hear that. "Just make sure you let the general know. I don''t want to die a Major. This kind of project is either the kind of thing that''ll be so black-listed and classified that it won''t help me get promoted at all, or it''ll be the kind of thing that''s so big they won''t have a choice but to pin a medal on my chest." I laughed. "You have things figured out," I said. "But yeah, give your guys a break, I think we''ll be fine finishing the big gun tomorrow. Right?" Grasshopper nodded. "We will. We can likely start purchasing some things now. I intend to buy some construction drones in any case. They''ll be able to work through the night." "Oh?" Tinwhistle asked. "I wouldn''t say no to Samurai-tech help." "Hmm, mine are all back home," I said. "But I don''t think it''s suitable for this kind of thing." "It''s fine," Grasshopper said. "I will be purchasing large amounts of raw materials. Mister Hedgehog and Miss Princess said that their catalogues couldn''t truly help with the gun itself, but they''re willing to share the cost for the materials required to build the basing structure." "What did you buy?" I asked. Grasshopper tapped her chin. "I''m buying the main gun. I think I have the largest pool of free points to spend on this kind of project. Miss Gomorrah is purchasing a number of shells for the gun as well as the fire-control computer. Mister Crackshot Cowboy bought the targeting system and its hardware already. He had a fantastic catalogue for that." "Huh, everyone''s pitching in," I said. "Yes! Tankette will be buying the loader, since that meshes well with her catalogues. Hmm, would you mind buying the entry portal and some of the ammunition? You have a catalogue for that, right?" "Yeah," I said. "Exotic Single Use Explosives. Bought a--technically not a--nuke with it once, I''m sure Myalis would love to help us throw different things at the wall to see what sticks. What about Gros Baton? The new kid?" "Oh, he''s quite a lovely young man," Grasshopper said. I nodded, then realized that I had no idea where he was. For that matter, I didn''t know where Rac had run off to either. Suspicious. "He''s taking care of site security, which is also quite important." "Fair enough. Is he the one that put up those balloons? They made my augs fritz whenever I looked at them too long." "That''s him, as well as Hedgehog. Gros Baton had a catalogue for traps which happened to have some barrage balloons available. Hedgehog has a pretty intense suite of anti-spyware programs, so combining the two lead to those. They should mask our presence a little, and make it harder for low-flying spy drones to pass by." "We''re not going to be keeping this a secret for very long, will we?" I asked. Grasshopper wiggled her hand in a so-so gesture. "Major Tinwhistle''s people have been very good about not going online, but eventually their lack of presence will be noticed. There were probably a lot of eyes on the area already, what with the number of new samurai here. But new samurai tend to get a lot of attention from... smaller organisations." If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "What''s that mean?" I asked. I wasn''t sure if I should be offended or not. "It means that organisations like the bigger corps will pay attention to smaller samurai in order to see if they''re recruitable or if they''d be willing to work with them. Bigger samurai have corporate eyes on them because they''re a constant and pervasive threat to those corporations. It''s a little different." "Are you one of those bigger samurai?" I asked. "I''ve been around for a few years, but I never truly focused all of my resources on growing stronger," she said with a smile that was just a little sad. "I''d much rather pay for educational TV shows, or spend my points on things that''ll help humanity in the long run rather than neat weapons. I''m regretting that just a little now, when that spending might have helped us all get through this situation a little easier." "Nah, I think you did alright," I said. Grasshopper didn''t strike me as a fighter. Not that I doubted her ability to kick ass and take names. She just wasn''t the sort of person that I''d picture on the front lines. I supposed that didn''t make her any less of a samurai, though. "Well, it means that I''ve been a small-fry in the samurai world for a long time. The only reason a larger corporation would care about me is the friends I''ve made along the way. A few of those have gone on to have incredible careers!" I nodded along. "You should go see your friends too. Leave the logistics to the Major and I. You''re more of an... in-person leader, I think." "I''m not a leader at all," I said. "I just keep getting stuck having to boss people around. Doesn''t mean I like it. But yeah, sure. I''m worried Rac might be getting into some sort of trouble. I''ll be upset if someone drives her over with one of those tractors." Grasshopper giggled, the laugh making her look ten years younger and kind of ruining her more serious moment. "That would be awful. Go check on her, and on the others. Believe it or not, but all of them, from Gomorrah to Tankette, value your opinion.... Well, maybe not Hedgehog, I have the impression you struck him the wrong way." "Ah, yeah, that might be my fault, I was a little too honest." "Honesty can be tricky sometimes," she agreed easily. I waved goodbye to the Major who barely acknowledged me. She was in the middle of what looked like three simultaneous calls while two engineer-looking sorts were badgering her with questions, so I didn''t take umbrage at being ignored and just slipped out of the command tent. The place was still hustling, even more than when I''d arrived. There was now a mountain of loose dirt being piled up by the roadside, and more tractors had arrived and were shoving it out into a long wall of packed dirt and stone. The hole where the gun would be had gained another twenty metres or so in the last half hour and it looked like they had dropped another metre. It seemed like they were digging it out as a sort of ramp? I wasn''t sure and didn''t have the background to make anything approaching an intelligent guess, so I didn''t question it. I did find the others relatively easily. Tankette had brought her tank forwards next to a row of tents where they were serving food. She was helping, which I imagined continued to make her pretty popular with everyone here. Her smile suggested she was enjoying it. Princess and Knight were sitting at one table in that tent, looking a little awkward as they spoke to each other. No idea where Hedgehog was. And Rac... It took me a moment to find her. She was out by the edge of the hole that was being dug. Just far enough from it that I wasn''t instinctually worried she''d trip into it and actually get squished. Next to her, Gros Baton was saying something with a lot of gestures, and from the way their shoulders shook, they both laughed at whatever that was. Rac shoved him, and I caught his stupid grin from all the way out here. Well well, it seemed like I really was the best match-maker that ever was. Of course, if the little shit hurt her, no amount of being a samurai or a minor would save him. *** Chapter Thirty-Eight - Eggs Burny Side Up Chapter Thirty-Eight - Eggs Burny Side Up "With growing populations comes a growing need for housing. This need is answered in one of two ways. Mega projects, or Rapid-Fab Housing. Mega projects offer the most bang for a developer''s buck. Creating enclosed super structures where a corporation can control everything from police forces, to food sales, to climate control for its residents, ensuring a constant flow of revenue over the life of the structure. Rapid Fab, surprisingly, costs significantly more as land around a mega city tends to go for a premium. The houses themselves can be built to code in under a week, or built without respecting code--for a small fine--in under a day, ensuring housing demands are met for thousands of middle-class citizens all at once." --Except from Housing in the 21st Century, 2039 *** I was up and at''em early the next morning. Before noon, even. The group had set up a small chat about the Big Gun project, one handled by our respective AIs. I think it was safe to say that it was about as safe as a chatroom could be, even considering the number of people in it. I poked at the chatroom while Lucy made breakfast. This morning was a ''full English'' which meant that I got to sit at the kitchen island, hair still damp from a warm shower, and watch as an apron (and unfortunately more clothes) clad Lucy went about handling three pans and two disasters at the same time. "Holy shit, why do eggs cook so fast!" she grumbled as she moved a pan full of eggs over to a plate and tipped it over. Eggs slid off the non-stick surface and mostly landed on the plate. Half of them looked uncooked and runny. The other half were brown-turning-black on the edges. I smiled into a mug of warm coffee as Lucy ran the other way, stirred a pot filled with beans--from the resistance, I suspected some were now permanently welded to the bottom, then she poked at some sausages in the other pan. They spat and hissed, but actually looked pretty good. "You''ll get a hang of it." "I might hang someone, alright," Lucy muttered. "The site made this look easy! This is bullshit." "Wasn''t this like, the standard breakfast for a lot of places in the world?" I asked. "Eggs, sausage, toast, beans." "Fuck! The toast!" Luy ran over to the far end of the counter, almost tripped--which had me sitting bolt upright in case I needed to move--then made it to the bread... thing. The box with the foldy top that bread goes in, for some reason. She popped it open, revealing two end-bits of bread and nothing else. "Fuck!" "It''s okay, we don''t need toast," I said. "But I want toast," Lucy whined. Actually whined. I hadn''t heard her make such a pitiful noise in a while. The last time had definitely involved rope and had been a lot of fun. "Myalis can--" "Don''t buy toast. I''m making breakfast!" Lucy said. "What about bread?" I asked. She considered it. "Okay, but get it pre-sliced, I don''t have time for that." Shrugging, I had a small discussion with Myalis about alien bread while Lucy continued to putter about the kitchen like a 1950s housewife with the vocabulary of a 1850s sailor. I was just happy that she was enjoying her new cooking hobby so much. Plus it was food. I never said no to food. The group chat caught my attention again as it moved. A message from Gomorrah asking if Tankette needed help at the mess tent, then Princess apologising that she couldn''t help on account of currently learning how to use a bulldozer? There was a sub-channel, of course, for memes. Grasshopper was surprisingly active on there. I scrolled up and through about a hundred-odd photos of cats, dogs, strange reptiles, bears, birds, a few funny-looking fish. Most of them were ''cool animal fact'' memes that probably belonged on some soccer mom''s media feed, but some were just cute pictures. Gros Baton was posting obscure French-Canadian memes that--even translated--made not one lick of sense. Kinda weird to see someone who lived in the same general area as the rest of us have such a wildly different meme culture. Gomorrah had posted some more nerdy science-facts memes, and then Crackshot and Princess got into a bit of a meme war. He was surprisingly adept at it, but Princess and Knight were tag-teaming him into meme... submission? Crackshot had set up his own sub-channel for dating advice. None of it was good at a glance, mostly because the people helping him there were Princess and Knight and Gomorrah. Gomorrah had a girlfriend, sure, but that wasn''t thanks to her suave and wit, that was mostly because Franny had the stubbornness of a junkie who needed their next fix. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. I went back to the main channel and scrolled way back up to the start. Hedgehog had been pretty vocal early on, and then through the night. Mostly updates, logistics reports, and a few quick conversations with anyone awake about some detail or another. At some point he''d gone to sleep and the chat took a distinctly less professional tone. I kinda liked the irreverence better, but it did make it a whole lot trickier to find anything important in all of the noise. One of the AI, whose name I wasn''t familiar with--Tankette''s, maybe?-- kept a running update on the progress according to Major Tinwhistle, including an ETA counter which ticked up and down with how long the engineers thought it would take. The ETA ticker updated every half hour in the chat, but it didn''t always change by half an hour. There was definitely a downwards trend to the amount of time left until things were done, but there were skips and jumps and at some point around four AM the timer changed by two hours. The chat got lively around then, Knight asking what made that noise. Turns out an automated loader had glitched out, the brakes failed and it rammed into a bulldozer at the stunning speed of seven kilometres an hour. But with the kind of mass they were dealing with, that still made a lot of noise and fucked up two vehicles that needed untangling. Some poor fucks had to figure all of that out hours before the sun came up. It seemed like a genuine accident, not malicious intent, and the subsequent ETA updates showed that things got back into line quickly enough. "Looks like I''m gonna need to be there in an hour or so," I said. "At the gun site?" Lucy asked without turning around. She was trying to flip an egg over with a spatula. "Yeah. Seems like shit''s actually getting done. At this rate we might be able to fire the thing today. Kinda wild, to be honest." "That is impressively fast," Lucy said. "But I guess it''s not that surprising. We''ve both seen megabuildings go up." I nodded. Usually a new megabuilding took like, one or two years to be built? More or less. That sounded like a long time until you stood on the edge of the giant gap where the building would be one day, and a year later there was fifty floors of impossibly thick building in place. The rate those things went up at was kinda nuts. I always liked seeing the timelapses. "The wall around the city went up fast too," I said. "Simpler than a building, I guess," Lucy said. "Weren''t the slabs for it pre-made? I remember hearing something like that." "I guess?" I said. I didn''t know for sure, and I honestly hadn''t paid that much attention. Lucy put something on a plate, then picked up a piece of toast, buttered it, and placed it down. She spun, a big, ridiculously proud smile on full display. "Speaking of pre-made, or rather, absolutely not pre-made, breakfast is ready!" She set the plate down, and I caught a strong whiff of it. Freshly cooked eggs, slightly burned beans, buttered toast. My mouth watered. "Did I tell you that I love you today?" I asked. "Only twice so far," Lucy said. "I could stand to hear it more." I looked up, meeting her eyes. "I love you." Lucy smiled, the image of self-satisfied smugness. "Damn right," she said. "Not gonna say it back?" I asked as I picked up a fork and started to dig in. "Bitch, I made you breakfast, ain''t no ''I love you'' stronger than that." I laughed between bites, then savoured the meal while Lucy put the rest into some bowls and plates and set them on the counter. A few kittens had been spying on the kitchen for a while now, and they came over to grab what they could, like wild animals lurking around the back exit of a fast food joint. Lucy eventually cornered Bargain and Nose and traded food for elbow grease, both of them agreeing--under penalty of slow, painful death if they went back on their word--to do the dishes in exchange for food. It was a nice morning to what I suspected was going to be a nice day. Now I just had to see if Rac wanted to come along and then head out. If all went well, we''d be averting the end of the world by supper time. *** Chapter Thirty-Nine - I Want to Lick Your Eyeball Chapter Thirty-Nine - I Want to Lick Your Eyeball "Do not, under any circumstance, lick someone''s eyeball. We do not endorse any eyeball-licking memes." --PSA from the Ophthalmologists Association of USTwo, 2041 *** I found Rac all geared up and waiting for me by the entrance. She was in her skin-tight armoured suit, but with a loose t-shirt and shorts atop it, as well as a beaten up old denim jacket. "I''m digging the mixed material look," I said. "The what?" she asked. "You know, fancy high tech undersuit, low tech grunge over it?" I asked. Rac gave me a look, as if she was questioning my sanity which... alright, fair. Rac was one of those few who grew up in a situation shittier than my own, she deserved a break. "Do you mind if I come with you again? Or would you rather I stay here to work?" "You mean with the printer?" I asked. She nodded. "I loaded it this morning, and brought some prosthetics down to the clinic already. Miss See-Three took those I made this morning and the batch from last night too." "You got two batches off since last night?" I asked. I was moderately impressed. "When did you even start?" "This morning?" she said. "It''s almost noon." Oh, right. Some people woke up early. "You''re a morning person, then?" "No," she said. "I don''t need much sleep." We both stepped into the elevator while I chewed on that. "You know, you''ll never grow big and tall if you don''t get enough sleep, right?" "Is that why you''re tall? You sleep a lot?" I poked her in the shoulder. "Rude. But probably not entirely inaccurate, to be honest. I''m an expert at napping." The elevator stopped at the parking garage, and we stepped out and towards my bike which was parked nearby. We got on, took off, and soon were zipping across New Montreal heading north again. I was totally ready to bee-line straight to the Big Gun site when I got spooked by Myalis talking in my head. There are several monitoring systems observing you. "Oh, shit," I said. We were just out of the city limits, past the new walls. "Should I start evasive manoeuvres?" No. There have always been a number of systems that have observed your flight. Most of these related to traffic control, or part of the New Montreal defensive grid--tracking system for the close-in weapons systems mounted on the walls. "We''re being aimed at?" I asked. You always have. The tracking systems I''ve noticed now are new, and specifically tuned to notice your bike. I gave my bike a bit more gas to move along faster. "If anything opens up on us, I want you to buy some decoy grenades, please." Understood. What should have been a nice, calming flight out of the city was a little more white-knuckled than I was used to, but nothing happened. No gunshots, no missiles ramming up my tailpipe, no surprise explosions. "Can you trace who put those trackers out there?" I asked. Certainly. I have already, though I''m afraid the trail goes cold rather rapidly. The devices were delivered to a few rooftops via hovercars. The cars are registered by--or have been recently used by--several freelance mercenaries. The devices are all commercial-use trackers with mostly default programming. There are a few avenues I can dig into some more, but most trails have been obscured from the start. "Damn," I muttered. "Is everything okay?" Rac asked from behind me. "Yeah, it''s fine," I called back. "Someone playing games is all." Might I suggest taking a slight detour. You might not want to lead anyone investigating you right to the Big Gun project site. Shit, that was a fine idea. I turned, driving instead towards Saint JEROME. It didn''t take too long for us to get there, and it took less time once there for me to get a ride-along with a few engineers picking up some equipment from a drop-off in the city. The news that I''d been tracked went over surprisingly well in the shared chat, and I found myself somewhat reassured when Grasshopper told me not to worry while I sat in the back of a cargo truck and rode out to the site, my bike strapped into the trailer so that I''d at least have a way home later. When Rac and I arrived, a solid half hour later than I''d expected to, it was to find Princess and Knight waiting for us by the unloading area the engineers had set up. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. "Stray Cat!" Princess said. She was grinning ear-to-ear as I hopped out of the truck. "Good afternoon." "Hey," I said. "How are you doing?" I scanned past Princess and Knight to the grounds. I was used to seeing things from above as I flew in, which was a good way of seeing how things were progressing, but even from ground-level I could tell that shit was getting done. The hole for the gun was now a very long trench and the mounds of dirt dug up to make that trench were now like several small mountains as well as a sort of natural wall of dirt along the perimeter of the site. Princess walked right up to me and smiled even as she looked up into my eyes. "It''s nice to see you again. And I''m doing alright," she said. Yup, she was still creepy. "Cool cool," I said. "So, any news since I was last here? I mean, stuff that didn''t make it onto the group chat?" "Oh, uh, not too much? Did you see, I got to ride one of the tractors!" "It was terrifying," Knight said. "Were you with her?" I asked. "I was, yeah," Princess'' far more down-to-earth sister said. "Princess doesn''t have a licence yet." "Ah, right." I wasn''t about to mention that I didn''t have one either. Princess clapped her hands. "Oh, right! We came to meet you because Grasshopper wants to talk. It''s important." "Oh, right, I''m supposed to buy some parts for the gun, right?" "That too!" she said. "But no, it''s mostly because of interference." I felt my brows knitting together. "Interference?" I repeated. "Is some political fuckwit sticking their dick in our project or something? Because I have solutions for that kind of thing." Princess giggled and shook her head. "Nope. It''s from other samurai." I blinked at that. "Wait, what?" "You might want Grasshopper to explain it," she said. "She''ll do a better job of it than I can." "Basically," Knight said. "We''re not the only ones trying to stop the end of the world. We''re not the first either, and some others have called dibs on blowing up the moon." I shook my head. Unbelievable. Princess and Knight escorted me across the site to where a few temporary buildings had gone up, replacing the tents serving as bunks. The mobile base was still parked there, and it looked like it was still in use, but there was also an honest-to-god bunker not too far from it. It looked like the engineers had more cement or whatever than they knew what to do with, so they started setting up a full on base right here. Actually, that... kind of made sense. The Big Gun was pretty damned permanently emplaced. From what I understood, a kilometre-long railgun was actually very delicate, and also huge. Huge and delicate didn''t go together very well most of the time, so moving this thing was going to be impossible. Still, it was kind of wild that it deserved the whole bunker and base treatment. Grasshopper met me outside of the mobile base with a big smile and her arms spread out for a hug. I gave in, walking into her hug with a put-upon sigh. I wouldn''t ever let her or anyone else know, but I did secretly enjoy Grasshopper''s hugs. The only problem was that I had an image to keep up, and being seen getting hugged and fussed over by Grasshopper wasn''t great for that. "Hello, Stray Cat," she said. "Hey," I replied. "So, we''re getting messed with by some samurai?" She nodded. "Come on in, I''ll tell you all about it." "Alright. Who is it, anyway?" "Who are they, rather," she corrected softly. "It''s not one samurai, or even one organisation. At the moment there are three groups, including us, who have plans to take out Phobos within the next forty-eight hours. There are others who have their own plans in place, but they won''t be ready for a little longer." "So, it''s us, two others, then a gaggle of other samurai who''ll be tossing shit at the wall at the last minute?" "I wouldn''t use those terms, exactly, but you''re essentially correct," she said. There was a globe hovering over the planning table, with three bright red dots on it. One of them was in eastern Canada, where we were. The other in... central Europe? And the last somewhere in Asia. "Let me show you what we''re up against!" *** Chapter Forty - Race Me to the Moon Chapter Forty - Race Me to the Moon "''We need a publicity stunt. Something big for our people to rally around. Something like we had in the golden age of America.'' ''What about going to the moon again?'' ''What? No you idiot, are you mental, that''s too expensive. I was thinking... let''s give everyone a car?''" --USTWO GOP2 Discussion, 2038 *** "Wait, so let me get this straight," I said as I gestured to the globe. "Some fucks from around the world found out about our Big Gun project and they''re not happy about it? "That sums it up, yes," Grasshopper said. "But for two small details." She raised a hand, two fingers splayed in a peace sign. "Go on," I said. "First, I don''t think that we can really ascribe negative emotions to either group. We haven''t spoken to them directly yet, so it''s not fair to assume that they''re angry or even unhappy with us. Second, they might not be adversaries to begin with, and the way you''re framing things could lead to bigger problems down the line." I worked my jaw, wanting to disagree on principle, but... Grasshopper was probably onto something. Two other samurai orgs were working to stop the end of the world. If anything I ought to be happy about it because just a couple of days ago I was pissed that no one was taking action. "I guess we don''t hold a monopoly on saving the world," I said. "We share the same planet," Grasshopper said. "It''s only fair that we all do our best to save it too. Especially when saving it only means using great amounts of violence on a deserving target." I nodded slowly. Something told me that Grasshopper was a card-carrying member of the ''blow up pipelines'' school of ecological preservation. "So, can we chat with them, or are we in an unofficial race to see who can blow up Phobos first?" "I''d much rather we talk first," Grasshopper said. "Which is why I''ve set up a meeting with a representative of both groups. I was hoping you wouldn''t mind representing us? I need to help Major Tinwhistle with some final notes on the Big Gun''s construction, and the others are all quite new for samurai." "So am I," I defended. "What about Gomorrah?" "She didn''t want to." What if I didn''t want to? I grumbled a bit, but... yeah, it was this or try to find something to do so that I wasn''t just standing around with my thumb up my ass. "Fine," I said. "Just two samurai, right?" "Yep! One from the German Nachtw?chternetzwerk group, the other from the Keiretsu association of east Asia." "... The what?" "Do you want me to write the names down for you? It might make it easier to pronounce them," she said. I shook my head, but did look at the text she sent me a moment later. There were little spaces telling me which syllables to pronounce in the mismash of letters that was supposed to be a name. "Anything I should know about these two?" "The Nachtw?chternetzwerk group is, as the name suggests, more of a network than a corporate group like the Family. It''s founded in Germany, with members in Austria and Switzerland. The group only allows samurai as members, though there are some who have family members and close friends as support staff. It''s more an interconnected network of friends who support each other than anything else." "Weird," I said. Grasshopper giggled. "Catherine, it''s exactly like what we have here." "Oh," I said. "And the other?" I asked to slip past that awkward fumble. "The Keiretsu association is far larger in terms of scope, though it technically has fewer samurai members. They call their members Ronin instead of Samurai, which is quite interesting if you''re at all aware of the etymological roots of the title samurai. In any case, each samurai member there is the head of a corporation." "Wait, the... Japanese samurai are all corpos?" "Oh no. Not in the way you''re thinking. Some of those corporations are quite small. Little more than a family business, really. It''s just that the Keiretsu association keeps them interlinked. If you had your prosthetics clinic there, you''d find other samurai lending you support for various things for prices far below market rates. Also, it''s not just Japan. Both Koreas, Taiwan, Mongolia, a few island nations." I started to rub at my temples. My education in geography was not enough for this conversation. "Okay, fine. Do we need to worry about any other groups?" A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. "No. There''s two groups in Africa that are preparing something, but it seems more like a contingency to catch pieces of Phobos before they hit Earth. Another group in India is preparing something as well but it''s also preventative. A lot of smaller groups with only a few members like our own are setting up for things, but the Nachtw?chternetzwerk network... oh, a tautology... anyway, they''ve been discouraging people from trying anything and instead encouraging them to focus on the global incursion." Grasshopper clapped her hands. "Enough talk! Time to get you sitting down in front of a camera." "Wait, we''re calling them now?" "Of course. Do you have any idea what time it is in Germany and Japan right now?" "I haven''t the faintest clue," I said. "Nor do I, but I imagine that if we wait too much longer, our overseas friends will be quite tired." Grasshopper tugged me along until I was unceremoniously placed in front of a monitor bank. This was right in the middle of the command area, with engineers wandering in and out behind me and officers working at their own stations. "There''s a privacy screen," she said as she activated a small boxy device. There was a hum from the machine, then the noise in the rest of the room was dropped to a low murmur. "There, that ought to keep you concentrated. That screen is you, and the other two are our friends, and this here is the webcam." Grasshopper tapped a few keys and a trio of screens lit up. I was on the left, as was half of Grasshopper as she leaned in to type a few last things. The middle and rightmost screens were blank, but they had the name of the organisations we were talking with below. She patted my shoulders. "Do us proud!" I really didn''t like how quickly I was being shoved into something like a ''face'' position. Being the ''tells people to get their heads out of their asses'' person? I could live with that. Being the face of this operation? That I wasn''t so sure about. But I didn''t get much of a choice as the middlemost screen flickered on and I came face-to-face with... a mad scientist. The man looked like he was in his mid forties or so. Black hair that was both balding at the front and turning white on the edges. But what he did have was long and unruly. My guy needed a haircut, but judging by the lack of sanity in his eyes, that was a distant concern. "Ah, you''re here," he said in the thickest German accent I''d ever heard. "Good, good. Yes, my name is Doctor Kaleb Weber, samurai designation Radikal. I''m a proud member of the Nachtw?chternetzwerk and the Sch¨¹tzenfest Samurai Militia. A pleasure." He smiled, then looked off camera and... grabbed a hot dog? Like, a normal-ass hotdog, with ketchup and mustard. Some of the condiments soon found themselves on his lab coat. "Sorry. I skipped my last meal, we''re very busy." "Uh, hi," I said. I didn''t have time to introduce myself when the other screen came on. There was another man, this one looking like he had just walked out of a period piece. Another middle-aged guy, but he was at least well-trimmed and professional. Actually, his weird outfit kinda had a bit of a corpo look to it. A sort of blend between a... whatever the male version of a kimono was and a business suit. "Greetings," he said. His words were added at the bottom of his screen as subtitles, even though his English had better enunciation than mine. "I''m Susan, of Amaterasu corp, member of the Keiretsu. Doctor Radikal, a pleasure to meet you again. Miss Stray Cat, hello." "Hello," I said with a quick wave. "I''m Stray Cat, of... the New Montreal Big Gun Project." Oh fuck, I was pulling titles out of my ass now, but it only felt appropriate to not just say something like ''Hi, I''m Stray Cat and I was dumped in front of you because we have no idea what we''re doing here.'' "Nice to meet you," Doctor... Radikal said. I wouldn''t have known how to spell that without the subtitles. "So, it is our understanding that both the Keiretsu and the, ah, New Montreal Big Gun Project are planning to take care of our extraterrestrial visitors? We also have something up our sleeves." He raised a hand and showed the inside of the sleeves of his lab coat, which... had nothing in them. Yeah, this was not starting off... normally. *** Chapter Forty-One - Operation Moon Boom Chapter Forty-One - Operation Moon Boom "So, from today onwards, the European Union will no longer be called the European Union. The word Union has been tainted by the leftists and those who would steal from the deserving and give to the worker. From now on, the EU will be the European Corporation, a corporation of national entities working to improve the lives of the deserving!" --EC Political Speech, 2041 *** "Yeah," I said to fill the immediately awkward silence. Susan--and it was kind of weird that there was a middle-aged dude called Susan--shifted slightly. I had the impression that he was sitting on his knees, which... alright. He was in a very fancy office, but the background also looked kind of ancient? Wooden walls and those rice-paper screens that Asian supercorps liked to decorate with. Doctor Radikal, meanwhile, looked like he was stuffed in a lab that was about fifty square metres too small for all the junk he was trying to stuff into it. I couldn''t name a tenth of the equipment behind him, but it all looked like the sort of shit you''d find in a lab. "So, uh, before we waste each other''s time," I began. "Has the Keiretsu and the... Nacht....watcher...networks...." "Nachtw?chternetzwerk," Radikal corrected quickly. "Right, thanks," I said. "Have you guys been in contact with each other already? Because I''m worried that we''re going to be double-teamed over here." "We have only been in contact recently," Susan said. "As of yesterday, in fact, but this is one of our first official meetings to discuss how we all intend to move forwards." I nodded slowly. "So there''s no pre-existing agreement or something like that in place?" "Only an agreement to discuss things here and now," Radikal said. "Which is why our discovery of your project was so fortuitous." "How did you find out anyway?" I asked. "It''s not like we were trying to be obvious about it. Actually, it''s the opposite, we''re trying to be discreet here." Radikial shrugged his shoulders. "One of our netwerk''s samurai is an information gathering specialist. She let us know about the project and we researched it further. Likewise for the Keiretsu, though they were not nearly so secretive." "We have no intention to be subtle," Susan said. "The fatefaith of humanity and Earth is on the line. This is not a time for secrecy." "Oh, I don''t know, there''s a certain value in discretion," Radikal said. "But in any case, yes, I''m glad we''re all here to discuss things." "Yeah, cool," I said. "So, we want to address the elephant?" "The elephant?" Susan asked. His eyes glowed for a moment, then he nodded sagely. "Ah, yes, a western idiom, I see. Yes, we should address the elephant." I shifted in my camp seat. It wasn''t the most comfortable thing I''d sat on. "So, all three of us have ways to fuck up Phobos. I''m assuming some of these will interfere with the rest of us, and while I''m not point-hungry, I bet some people are and nabbing Phobos means a fuckload of points." "That''s a good point," Radikal said. "As things are, the project that would strike Phobos first is our own. It''s also the most likely to cause interference. Then the Keiretsu''s drones would be in strike range next, followed by your own project." "If our goal is to save Earth, is there any reason we should change that?" I asked. It would suck if we spent all these thousands of points on the Big Gun only for it to go to waste, but at least we''d all be alive enough to earn more points later. The doctor shifted slightly, then nodded. "Let''s first go over our individual projects so that we might all be on the same page, yes?" "That''s fair," I said. "Wanna go first?" "Certainly! The Nachtw?chternetzwerk has created an in-orbit device we''re calling the Weltraumgewittermeister Teslakollisionsgenerator." "That''s... the what?" "Ah, yes, forgive me. The... Space Storm Master Tesla Collision Generator? I believe that translation is accurate," he said with a nod. "It''s a large orbital device that we''ve installed and which is moving to Earth''s second Lagrange point as we speak. It should be arriving there within the hour, in fact." "And what''s this thing do?" I asked. "The device is capable of creating a charge in distant objects," he said. "Like... an electrical charge?" I asked. Were they gonna taze the moon or something? This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it "Exactly! The idea is simple. Introduce strong magnetic force through the Phobos object, thereby forcing it to rip itself apart. We can then induce more charges in the remains, causing them to crash back into each other. It''ll also allow us to keep or disperse the materials that make up Phobos." Susan hummed. "Our solution is not so elegant, though it is quite simple," he said before reaching below the camera and pulling up... a small steaming cup of tea. "We have sent up several large factory ships into orbit with two Ronin of the Keiretsu. They are supplying the ships with more materials. As we speak, a small force of drones has been launched from Earth''s orbit and are forming into a flight already on its way to Phobos." "What kind of drone?" I asked. "The first wave are kamikaze. Remotely operated explosive drones who will pepper the surface of the moon and clear it of alien life and clip Phobos'' wings. The next waves are equipped with powerful chemical lasers to heat the moon''s surface and cause the moon to deviate from its path." "Clever," I said. "And what of your Big Gun Project?" Doctor Radikal asked, if only to be polite. "What is your plan?" "We''re building a big gun, and we''re gonna shoot it." Susan gave me a look as if I ought to have been embarrassed from the lack of sophistication in our plan, but I didn''t care for that. "It''s a little more complex. We have portal tech. We''re shooting into a portal on Earth, and the bullet''s coming out of a portal in space. So we''re skipping the whole... get to space bit with our bullet." "Oh, that''s ingenious. I''ve noticed that your gun is quite large," Radikal said. "About a kilometre of railgun," I said. Susan actually seemed a little impressed now, nodding before he took another careful sip of his tea. "That is, in fact, a large gun," he admitted. "What is your intended payload?" "We have a lot of choices there," I said. "Personally, I wanna see what monofilament bombs could do to Phobos. Grasshopper has also sold me on the idea of Casaba Howitzers? Honestly, the thought of those kinda makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside." "Understandable," Doctor Radikal said, and for a moment I think we shared a bit of mutual enthusiasm for big things that went kaboom. "In light of what we do have... I suspect that our project here will be the one to cause the most interference. Perhaps less with the Big Gun project, as the Weltraum-Gewittermeister Tesla-Kollisionsgenerator will not interfere so much with a rapidly moving projectile, but our electromagnetic interference might very well destroy the Keiretsu drones." "That won''t matter if your project blows up Phobos before the drones get there, right?" I asked. "Perhaps! We certainly intend to try. The difficulty lies in the enemy response." "What do you mean?" I asked. Susan was the one to reply. "The adversary will not allow us to strike them with impunity. They will adapt. That is what they do." "Can the antithesis adapt to resist being crushed by a giant space magnet?" I asked. I wasn''t sure if I understood how the Weltra...whatevermeister worked, but I figured I had the gist of it. "Would you have expected them to be able to move a moon across the solar system a week ago?" Susan asked. "Fair point," I said. "So... what, we want to try a bunch of shit until something works?" "Exactly!" Doctor Radikal said. "If we''re to defeat the enemy, we either need a powerful alpha-strike, or to hit them with a large number of different attacks before they can adapt. The Keiretsu drone program allows for the construction of more drones with varied weapon emplacements, the Big Gun project allows for a variety of projectiles to be launched at the Antithesis. Combined with our own powerful attack, we will definitely succeed in destroying Phobos and saving Earth!" I grinned. The doc''s enthusiasm was infectious. "Alright, I''m down for that. I don''t think anyone here will be too upset if Phobos blows up before we get a chance to smack it. Is it the same on your end, Susan?" Susan nodded solemnly. "It is our sacred duty to protect. This allows all of us to contribute based on our merits and capabilities. I will address the other members of the Keiretsu, I suspect that we will all be glad to participate." "Cool," I said. "So... keep in touch?" *** Chapter Forty-Two - Cat to the Moon Chapter Forty-Two - Cat to the Moon "The 2028 Space Accord is an international agreement signed by all members of the G10 that, in essence, removes all limits on space-based weapons platforms installed by governments and private enterprises operating within signatory nations as long as these weapon platforms meet certain criteria. The most important of these is a system of safe locks, preventing the use of these weapons against Earthly civilian targets." --Excerpt from International Laws and Regulations, Seventy-Third Edition, 2035 *** "So... you bargained away our right to be the first to shoot?" Gomorrah asked. It wasn''t really a question, even if she''d given it that kind of tone. It was a reprimand. We were in a small office space next to the communication room where I''d just finished chatting with Doctor Radikal and Susan. The call had ended as quickly as it began. They were both far from our timezone, and either needed to hit the hay or just get shit started for the day, so we hadn''t lingered on goodbyes. It was myself, Gomorrah, and Grasshopper. It looked like the three of us formed the more... veteran part of the Big Gun Project. Oh, right, I''d need to tell the others that I''d kinda named our entire project without permission or input. That could wait a minute. "Bargained away makes it sound like I was being stupid on purpose," I said. "So you weren''t purposefully stupid?" Gomorrah asked with a slight tilt of her head. I paused, worked through the English there, then shook my head. "No, wait. What I mean is that what I did wasn''t stupid." Grasshopper reached over and touched Gomorrah on the shoulder gently. "Let''s give Catherine a chance to explain herself. It''s only fair. We gave her the task to bargain for us and our confidence that she would do her best, without first giving her all the information she''d need to do her best, or much time to consider things." I pointed to Grasshopper, because that was a damned good point. They''d kinda dropped me into the hot seat and I had to figure shit out all on my own there. It wasn''t exactly the fairest way of doing things. "Fine. Sorry Cat," Gomorrah said. "Grasshopper''s right, we kind of threw you into the situation. Nonetheless... I''d like an explanation of what went down, please." "Sure," I said with a nod. That I could do, no problem. "So, two factions, right? We''ve got the... uh, Myalis, how do I even pronounce their name?" Myalis took over the speakers in my helmet with a faint--probably artificial--crackle. "The name you''re going to fail to pronounce properly is the Nachtw?chternetzwerk. Literally the Night Watchmen Network." "Them," I said. "Their guy was this crazy mad scientist type. Like out of a cartoon or something, with the accent and all. Doctor Radikal. With a K. Nice guy, actually. Bit of a weirdo, but I wouldn''t mind chatting with him some more. The other gang is the Keiretsu, from east Asia. They''re not just Japanese, but I''m pretty sure the guy I spoke to--Susan--is." "I''ve heard of the Keiretsu," Gomorrah said. "They''re as large as the Family, and possibly more influential within the continent they operate in." "Really?" I asked. She shifted, arms dropping to her sides as she spoke. "They''re a conglomerate of corporate entities owned wholly or in part by samurai. Some of the corporations that make up the Keiretsu no longer have samurai leaders, but only because those leaders have died. If you have an Asian company and you want it to hit the top, you need to be part of the Keiretsu." "So it''s like a gang?" I asked. "No, but also yes. It''s more complicated than that. They''re mostly just there to provide support, but it''s an extensive network of connections that is hard to break into and which comes with a certain guarantee of quality and competence. A lot of the companies in the group are tiny operations, but they produce the best things and will only sell to other members." I had a decent image of how they worked already, but this was shining a lot more light on the whole situation. "Okay. I think I see what you''re painting here," I said. "So, let''s not fuck with them?" "Let''s not," she agreed. "Though I can''t see them being immediately antagonistic. We''re far outside of their jurisdiction and their business. And they love working with samurai. Your business would fit right in." I shrugged. "What do you know about the Night Watchmen Network?" I asked. "Nothing," Gomorrah said. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. "I know a little more," Grasshopper said. "I have a few friends that are part of their group. We''re in a shared maths enthusiasts group!" "Uh-huh," I said. "They''re less political or business-like than the Family or the Keiretsu. They''re more like a disjointed group of friends and compatriots from across a number of cities and countries. Even here in North America. How did it go, by the way? You haven''t told us much yet." "Right, right," I said. "So, yeah, the Night Watchmen get first dibs on blowing up Phobos. Or cooking it, I guess. They have a big... not-gun of their own that''s ready to fire." I''d received a text from Doctor Radikal, or more likely his AI. It was a link to a live count-down of when their project was going to fire. "They''re gonna shoot in about six hours." "We''ll be ready to shoot ourselves by then," Gomorrah said. "We will, but it''ll take a while for anything we shoot to reach Phobos," Grasshopper pointed out. "Even after being shot from the Big Gun?" I asked. "It''s... a really big gun, won''t our bullet be moving hella fast?" "Hella fast indeed," Grasshopper said with a serious nod. "But space is ''hella big'' as well, so even at such speeds it will take a long time for our bullet to reach its target." That was fair, I supposed. I didn''t know enough to comment either way. "Right, well, after the nerds fire up their tesla microwave gun thing, the Keiratsu have an army of drones being built. I think they''ve launched the first couple of waves already. They''ll be arriving at Phobos second. No ETA on that one." "Drones?" Gomorrah asked. "Any more details than that?" "Uh, the first wave are suicide drones, then they wanna use drones with thermal stuff to make the moon''s direction change." I had no idea how that would work. Would warming something up in space really make it change directions? I didn''t wanna look like a dumbass, so I kept my mouth shut about it. "Clever," Grasshopper said. "They''re producing the drones in space?" "From what I gathered, yeah," I said. "Then we''ll have a constant supply of harassment for Phobos." "Can''t we do the same?" I asked. "Not at the moment, no," Grasshopper said. "We''re limited to a single approach vector at the moment. Where we can vary things a lot is with our choice of munitions, but our Big Gun can only fire so many times." "We can''t fire non-stop?" I asked. She shook her head. "The cannon is designed to fire once an hour at a normal, efficient rate. We can double that, but we''ll be pushing up our maintenance needs and we''ll burn through our electrical capacity." I wouldn''t even pretend to understand how a railgun actually worked. If Grasshopper said once an hour, then it was once an hour. That felt a little slow to me, at least until I started to take in just how fucking awesome what we were doing was. "Anyway, we''re third in line. If the nerd''s super energy weapon fucks Phobos up, then we''ve wasted all this effort." "Nonsense," Grasshopper said. "We made friends and learned all sorts of things. That''s not wasted effort. A lost opportunity isn''t a loss of time." I grinned. "Sure. Anyway, it doesn''t sound like the Keiretsu''s shit is gonna take Phobos out in one swoop. More like they''re aiming to soften the moon up, kill it by chipping away at it for however long it takes until the whole thing gives up." "It''s a valid tactic against the antithesis," Gomorrah said. "You often have to choose between a single decisive strike or a variable war of attrition where you don''t use the same tactics often enough for the antithesis to adapt." "I think he said something like that," I said. "Susan, I mean. It''s valid, I guess. Not my kind of thing." "You also agreed to this project because it has exceptional alpha-strike capabilities," Gomorrah said. "I''m just an alpha kinda person," I agreed. "I''m not going to dignify that with a response," Gomorrah said. "I''m not big on dignity anyway," I shot back. "So, you still angry that we''re in third?" "... No. I''m not upset. Sorry, Cat, I shouldn''t have jumped to conclusions," Gomorrah said, sounding all mature and shit. "We''ll hope that the Nachtw?chternetzwerk succeed and if they don''t, then we''ll do what we can to work with the others." "Awesome," I said while deep down I was kinda annoyed that she''d pronounced that perfectly without a hitch. I checked the timer again. "We''ve got a few hours until they do their thing. Should we finish up the Big Gun then sit back and watch?" *** The Ongoing Contest has come to a close! The Ongoing Contest has come to a close! Somehow, this one took longer than the last... and it''s all my fault for being so slow. My bad! I''ll try to make the next ones a little faster! So, the Ongoing contest is probably the entry that means the most. It has fewer stories within it, but these stories are ongoing pieces of art in the SCS world, which is impossibly cool! I''m particularly proud of this part of the contest since it means that there are people dedicated to writing SCS fanfiction over months, and some over the span of a year! That''s incredibly heartwarming! There can only be one winner, however... Presenting this year''s Ongoing Contest winner... A Joytoy''s Journey to become a Hive-Queen By PhyonesArc! Joytoy is such an interesting take on the SCS world. SCS never shied much from poking at the darker side of cyberpunk, but as an author, I never found myself too confident and willing to dive into subjects that some might find a little disturbing. Phyones did that here, with both grace and elegance, and a fair amount of decorum. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. It makes Joytoy something really special. I''m not sure if it''s for everyone, but it''s a subject that deserves a good exploration. It definitely helps that the writing is far above par. The main character is enticing and interesting, the world she lives in is at once cruel and yet mundane, and there''s just enough hope to keep the very real-feeling people in that world going. If you want to read something different, then give Joytoy a try! I really wanna shout out Teddy Bears on Brigade as well. I don''t know if I can do split winners a second time in this contest (and I suspect that Wombat will be taking the prize in one of the next categories anyway, they''re just that good). T-BoB is a lot closer to SCS in style and substance, only it''s a lot cuter in many ways! I''d also be remise if I didn''t tell people to give it a try, especially those who might not want to take a big plunge within the world of Joytoy. Keep warm; stay cool, -RavensDagger SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner: A Joytoys Journey to become a Hive-Queen By PhyonesArc! SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner: A Joytoy''s Journey to become a Hive-Queen By PhyonesArc! Chapter 1 - A (literal) pain in the Ass "In modern society the usage of narcotics has long since become much more normal than it had been even thirty years ago. The biggest reasons for that are more supply, less controls, less stigmatisation, and generally less fucks to give. An average of 40% of the adult population admits to consuming some form of drug regularly, a staggering 30% almost daily. The real number is probably much higher."

"Modern Society, a retrospective," 2056

With an incessant beeping I got ripped out of my sleep, my head throbbing like someone was playing the drums on my skull. Croaking my displeasure, before coughing up some bile, I reached over and tried to smash the alarm clock off, whilst simultaneously vomiting the last of the alcohol and what pitiful food I had yesterday into the trash can. Eventually I hit the stupid alarm and groaned, taking some heaving breaths before dry heaving a couple more times. Next to me someone moved, warm naked flesh touching my own. I could feel breasts on my back as Sarah tried to use me as a pillow¡ again. I groaned once more, ignored the warmth behind me, much too hungover to enjoy the feeling, and got up. I didn''t dislike Sarah, she was a nice girl, at least when she wasn''t drunk. Which was quite the rare occasion now that I thought about it, considering it had been weeks since I had last seen her sober. No, what irked me was that I couldn''t have my own bed. It wasn''t her fault, of course. We had to share bed and board to keep the costs down, and even then we barely made enough, even with four people in an apartment I would barely consider large enough for one. Mumbling something to myself I got up, staggering from the alcohol and other shit still remaining in my system from last night. With a bit of effort I made my way over to our kitchen, although calling the shitty hole in the wall stove a kitchen was gloriously overselling things. I opened the fridge, grimacing at the ear grating squeaking sound it made, grabbed whatever cheap beer we had left, opened it, and downed half the bottle to clear the bile out of my mouth. I know I shouldn''t, I was an alcoholic and should probably stop if only to save like half the pitiful amount of money I made each month, but I''d been taking all kinds of drugs since my very early teenage years and by this point the amount of fucks I had left to give the universe at large were somewhere between nonexistent and fuck all. "Get the fuck up." I mumbled loudly before I finished my beer, throwing the empty can into the corner where the rest of the cans had already assembled to discuss our abuse of their contents. Someone would have to clean up soon¡ And considering this dingy household, that someone would be me. Of course my rambling wasn''t near enough to wake them, pissdrunk and high off their tits as they had been the previous evening. Sarah was still in dreamland, naked with a blanket barely over her long legs. Tina and Sharon were still asleep on the other mattress in the corner, limbs entangled from last night''s fun, empty beer cans still next to them. Once upon a time they too had a bed, but considering Sharon''s unquenchable lust, that thing had been fucked through not even three months after she had moved in. Since they didn''t have enough money for a new one, and Sarah and I weren''t about to fork our pitiful creds over for them to break the bed again, the stained mattress it was. Grumbling once more I stumbled over to kick the two awake, before I went over to Sarah to do the same. We all had to work soon and our boss wouldn''t be happy with us being late again. I didn''t know the schedule of the others, but I was booked out for the next couple days, and some of the clients paid good money to bend me over the bed frame. The lot of us were joytoys, little more than cheap whores. Once upon a time joytoys were more than just harlots, but over time things had changed in our redlight district, different gangs moved in, and by now all you were expected to do was spread your legs and act like you enjoyed your time. They didn''t even care if you were barely capable of walking from a near overdose. Okay, things weren''t quite that bad, I was just pissy. Our job didn''t suck entirely, and I liked doing it, most of the time. Ever since I had my first period my libido had been high, and even before I had turned eighteen I had my fair share of partners in the gangs, mostly to get my hands on more drugs. After they threw me out¡ Well¡ I didn''t have much in terms of options. And frankly by that point I no longer had any inhibitions about spreading my legs to get what I wanted, nor enough fucks to spare to care about dignity. Picking up whatever clean clothing I still had, none of us really cared who wore what as long as it all got cleaned afterwards, I slipped into my "work uniform". A skimpy bra that only hid my nipples, a nearly see through blouse that underlined my small but perky breasts, and a short mini skirt that barely hid the wonders beneath from the world. I decided to skip underwear, wouldn''t wear it for long anyway and I knew for a fact that most of my clients liked the cheap whore high on low-grade shit look that I usually had. Every joytoy had their theme and their regulars, and I was quite well known around the district for mine. Considering my client throughput and my reliability at doing my job, leaving quite the satisfied customers, I had already been entrusted with organising my own group of joytoys, basically being in charge of my wing of the brothel. Seraphine Bloodfallen was a known name, even outside of our little shithole of a district, at least among the cheaper brothels anyways. By this time the others had gotten up as well, most of them groaning loudly. "Shit¡ morning again already?" Tina mumbled, rubbing her eyes. Sharon looked worse for wear as she plucked her favourite anal beads still inserted in her loose ass from last night. "Fuck¡ And I can''t come in late again. I''m booked soon," she said, growling, although nobody would believe her if she said she wasn''t looking forward to it. My libido was high, she was an outright slut. She could fuck around all day and still want more. Part of it was of course that one of her favourite drugs did wonders to rile you up even more, so she and Tina ended up basically fucking every night before passing out. "I wish I could skip today," Sarah mumbled, before groggily getting up, only staggering a little. She was still drunk, as usual. Sarah was the only one of us who only did the job because of the money. She refrained from as much sex outside of work as she could, and typically only ever took clients while she was pissdrunk or completely out of it. I had talked to her multiple times about finding another job, but she couldn''t, or maybe wouldn''t, I didn''t exactly know. "Well, hurry up. Leon will be here shortly to pick us up," I said, then stretched lavishly, which had Sharon blatantly looking me over for a moment. Leon was another joytoy who worked with us, one of the few male joytoys I actually liked and had spent some time with. Normally I was more one for women, but he was alright. And he had shown me a few tricks to use on my male clients, which had paid off quite handsomely in my pay. I vanish into the bath for my first round of hygiene for the day; We would all clean up again at the brothel, but I liked to start here, just to keep the routine going. By the time I was done the rest of the girls had dressed up, although Sarah was already nursing her second beer for the day. The woman was nearly my height just sitting down, not to mention when she stood, even with my heels. As always, it irked me; My height was the only thing about my appearance that I disliked. Everything else about me was great, I looked good, knew it, and wasn''t ashamed to show it. But my height¡ ugh. In a way it was a blessing. I looked young, innocent and defilable despite being nearly twenty, and lots of geezers got off on getting me utterly fucked up on smack before they dominated me, so I never had to worry about getting enough jobs. It also helped that I basically dealt with nearly any fetish they knocked at my door with, which meant a wide variety of people who would pay for my services. Sarah had more problems in that regard. She was beautiful, don''t get me wrong, but she towered over even the taller men. There was a market for everyone, of course, but some were more in demand than others. She was also extremely vanilla, the most she would ever do would be stuff like feet or any of the other, more innocent, things. And that meant fewer jobs, which meant less pay. If money wouldn''t be an issue for her, she would probably be happy about it, knowing her. Regardless, we had to leave. I quickly pocketed my things, which consisted of a few joints, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, some of the more esoteric stuff available around the district, and a couple of toys that I would need today that I didn''t have in my room in the brothel. We had most everything you could want there, and they didn''t care what we took home, as long as we had it with us when it was needed, but I never liked doing that. Oh, I liked having toys available for whenever the mood struck me; I just didn''t like having them missing when a client came knocking with a surprise request. I might be a cheap whore high on even cheaper drugs, but I did take my job seriously. We filed out of the dingy apartment, not that it was much of one, and all went downstairs with a beer in hand. To any outsiders it might be a bit over the top with how fucked up our life and addictions were, but we were hardly an exception in this district. In the last twenty years or so this place had lost a lot of its former glory, thanks to multiple gang takeovers that had ended with less and less people giving a fuck about keeping the image up. As a result narcotics had quickly become widespread, I don''t think there were many if any people living in these parts that didn''t take some form of shit regularly, especially with how cheap the stuff was around here. Coinciding with the gang''s arrival, the clientele shifted, a lot of the wealthy high classers who originally would come to our part of town for a nice time were replaced by bangers, which meant less money, which meant the quality of things went even more to shit. By this point most of the brothels around here were the cheap kind, although Victor''s was a bit of an exception even then. The Rose Carpet was, well, maybe not specialised on the use of narcotics, but we had probably the loosest rules about that kind of crap in the area. That meant that we got most of the joytoys who did the job for money and didn''t know how to handle it other than drowning their sorrows, just like Sarah. Of course we also got people like me, addicts who couldn''t do another job and didn''t care about bending over for whomever came knocking with a creditchip. When we arrived downstairs Leon was already waiting for us in his rust bucket of a van, an older model he inherited from his pops. The lump of metal was nothing grand but it worked, and none of us could really afford to take the cab each morning. Even down here in the last reaches of the outer city, the taxi service was incredibly overpriced. "Morning," I grumbled as I opened the van door and got in, Tina and Sharon trailing close behind me, while Sarah climbed into the passenger seat. She always took shotgun, despite always complaining that it was too small for her long legs. The moment someone else dared to get near to it however, she threw a fit about how it was hers. "Morning. You look like shit," Leon muttered. The man was always worrying about us, which was adorable, but also sometimes incredibly annoying. "Yeah yeah, we know. Now get going before we are late again," Sharon grumbled, already visibly excited for the work day despite her bad mood. "I only got four clients for the day. The first three are regulars, the last booked the entire afternoon and evening. Seems to be the cuddly sort," I said, checking my schedule and the requests that came with them. I knew the first would suck, I saw him often. Giant dick, big enough to hurt, and he was totally into anal, so I was already prepared to nurse my bumhole back to health after his session. The other two were relatively normal, although one had once again asked for a collar and leash, plus some ''catnip'' as he called it. I knew what that meant, it was good that I had packed extra. The last was a woman, military from the looks of it, but surprisingly, not the dominating kind. Of course there were all types, but my experience with the more normal military girls was that they wanted to be in charge, often that meant more than just saying what we should do. This one however, wanted cuddles, lots and lots of cuddles. The rest of her sheet was¡ empty, to say the least. No likes or dislikes mentioned, only a footnote of taking things slow. She seemed a bit out of place for this kind of area, truth be told, not to mention her wishes for the day. Not that it mattered much to me, she was cute and was paying, so if she wanted to cuddle the day away, I would oblige her. "Damn¡ I''m packed. Eight clients, one a threesome, one a foursome. Hope I can keep it up the entire night," Sharon said, hand already between her legs, ruining the cheap seats. "Well, let''s hope you can still walk straight after," Leon said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Luckily, my day will be calm. I only have a halfday, rest of the day I''m on service duty." "Wanna switch?" Sarah grumbled, already in a bad mood. "Five clients, all of them with some strange fetish. Any of you have experience in foot jobs? Can''t remember the last time I did one of those." Of course Sharon was more than willing to help her refresh her memory, and soon the entire drive was filled with her regaling Sarah on how to do a proper job, what to focus on and what to avoid. It was informative, but only in the context of getting better at the job. I didn''t like feet and luckily I didn''t have to deal with that often. By the time she had gone through everything she knew, we had already parked and I was opening the door. "Well, good luck y''all, and have fun," I said in a deadpan tone before I walked off, throwing the empty beer can in a trash bin outside the brothel. Since I was in charge of my part of the brothel, I had some other shit to do before the clients came in. It mainly involved sorting out some of the more annoying things, like helping newcomers get situated, getting them adjusted, showing them how to do a proper job, that kind of shit. The last part at least could be fun, especially if they were one of the more eager ones. Heading into the brothel, I quickly found a group of joytoys standing around one of the new guys, who looked highly awkward and maybe a bit overwhelmed. "Morning," I mumbled, then looked around, "Anyone need anything before I show him the ropes?" It turned out, a couple had some minor concerns such as missing or broken toys, nearly empty booze cupboards, broken furniture, the works. I noted all of that down to send it over to Vic, who''d get on it to replace all the stuff. One of the girls had some questions about some of the toys for me, so I spent a couple of minutes showing her how to properly use them. Of course, as I always did, I reminded them to take their birth control, pay attention to hygiene, the usual shit people tend to quickly forget or ignore. We had a couple of accidental pregnancies before and they always meant trouble. When a joytoy got pregnant, the clients often didn''t want anything to do with it. That meant abortions, or if that wasn''t in the books, another brat ending up at the foster homes nearby. No matter what way things went, there were pretty much always heated tempers, loud words, and inane discussions about responsibility. I knew some clients paid extra for pregnant girls, but that was a rarity around these parts. The most difficult situations were when one of the guys got a client pregnant. Technically there was a clause that said that anything that could end in pregnancy wasn''t allowed, but since people are stupid, especially when high, drunk, and horny, that rule was so often disregarded that it might as well not exist. Problem was, someone had to fork over child support and what-have-you, and of course, since I was the person in charge, it would be my job to sort the shit out. Fucking grand. Despite the fucked up work life we had, I always made sure that at least the joytoys under me paid attention to all the important crap. More than once I sent someone home to clean up after they came in too fucked up to work. The redlight district was my home, and while it was a bit of a shithole - actually not just a bit - I wanted to make sure we were taken seriously. My goal was that one day we''d be seen as more than living onaholes, even if that was a bit of a pipedream with the current situation around the district. After I was done with all the minor stuff it was time to show the new guy the ropes. "Okay, Paul, was it?" I asked as we walked. "Yes, ma''am." The boy replied in an overly formal fashion, obviously a bit embarrassed. "Okay, Paul. So we generally have a couple of rules around here that you should remember. The two most important for you are the following: No raw dogging. I don''t care if you use a condom or if you pull out, just make sure that we don''t have accidents, okay? And nothing that would hurt you or the client. I don''t care how much money they shell out, that is just not something we do here. If they throw a fit feel free to refer them to me." It didn''t take long before we arrived at our hallway, one of the ones on the first floor. I motioned to a door as we walked past. "That is my room. I''ll be available in between clients, but don''t hesitate to come to me when there is an emergency." "The room over there," I pointed to one of the ones furthest down the hallway, "is yours. You should find anything you need in there. Toys can be taken home, but I recommend against it. If you forget one and ask for one from another room because you need it I will note that. Similarly all toys used should be cleaned after each client. That is your responsibility, and if I notice that you don''t that will mean a whole bunch of annoying shit coming your way, understood?" "Yes, ma''am!" This guy seemed to be the sort to listen closely and pay attention, which made me like him immediately. "Good. I don''t care what you do in your free time, who you fuck around with and what kind of shit you push into your veins, but you always need to make sure that you don''t have anything infectious while at work. STD tests, blood tests, that kind of stuff will need to be done once every two weeks at minimum. We have a doc we work with who can do that, so if you need a test just ring them up. I recommend keeping a full papertrail on your tests. It''s annoying, but we had some problems in the past when one of the joytoys didn''t have paperwork for some of the older tests." If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. "Yes, ma''am. I''ll make sure to keep all the tests I do." I nodded and smiled at him, just as we arrived at his room. "Now then, how experienced are you? Not just vanilla stuff, I mean in general?" He turned beet red and didn''t meet my eyes. "Uhm¡ I had a girlfriend once, who I did it with a couple times. Nothing more¡ uhm¡ extreme? Though." I nodded, "No shame in that. We can spend some time going over things now." Saying that, I opened the door and walked inside. Once in the room I quickly checked if everything was in order, then turned around to him. "Let''s start small. Show me how you would pleasure me with your mouth." He looked at me with wide eyes and an obvious boner in his pants. After a couple rounds with Paul, showing him some of the tips and tricks I had picked up over the years, I left him to his devices. One of the more senior guys would later show him some more, but right now they were all busy, so that would take some time. Of course, since I had helped him find his footing, I had to spend some time filling in some paperwork. Mainly, what he was able to do at the moment, what kind of clients he accepted, et cetera. He was pretty typical for a guy that had just started as a joytoy, preferring women, but he had mentioned that he was willing to entertain men later on down the line, once he got a bit more confident in the job. He was best with oral, so that was noted, but generally he was good enough at the moment that I was willing to have him train with some other joytoys and without my direct supervision. Once that was done I had to deal with another rather new addition to the roster. The girl had just started over a week ago and was already showing the telltale signs of someone who was slipping into drug abuse to cope with the fact that she was selling out her body for money. Technically I didn''t need to deal with this, but I preferred to try and help them find another job, much like I had done with Sarah. Of course I couldn''t force them to do anything, and if she wanted to stay, or didn''t have another option, then that was just something I had to accept. I just really didn''t want to end up with another body we would find behind some dumpster with seven syringes in her arm. That was something we had too often around these parts and I had seen my fair share of overdose cases in the nearly two years I had spent here. The talk with her went¡ about as swimmingly as my talks with Sarah usually went. She was pissdrunk and down two doses of Shiver. Shiver was one of the more widespread drugs, especially in the brothels. It heightened sensitivity, worked like something of an aphrodisiac, and basically forced the body into heat. The problem with it was that it completely disabled rational thinking, was highly addictive, and made you much more susceptible to most of the other shit, including alcohol. The end result was like something out of one of those cheap porn movies, a guy or girl who just let anyone do whatever they wanted to them, as long as they got to cum their brains out, even things they would consider deeply disgusting when sober. Of course, that did mean that once they sobered up they tended to be horrified at what they had done, and that led to a quick downward spiral that usually ended in overdose. I tried my best to give her options, gave her some recommendations about different places she could try to apply to, that kind of stuff, but I doubted that she even properly understood me in her drug induced horny haze. With a sigh I left her room and noted down a reminder to keep an eye on her. I liked my job, I really did. I got to enjoy myself, make some money, and get free drugs. These were the kind of things I could do without. I wasn''t squeamish about death, I''d seen too many people die, either in gang shootouts or because of overdose, but that didn''t mean I wanted to see more of that. Especially because I was pretty certain that the girl could have a proper life, if she was able to get out of the shithole she was in. After a quick trip to the shower to clean up, I made my way to the bar to grab a drink. Sitting down at the counter, I checked the time. I would be on the clock in twenty minutes. The others already had jobs, but because of my other duties I usually started a little later. The bar was still pretty empty, it was still early in the day after all, but I saw a couple familiar faces. Dax came over to me, giving me a warm smile while he finished cleaning one of the glasses. "Seraphine, how are you?" he asked in his typical, warm voice. "You know how it is, Dax. How''re you doing?" I replied and smiled at him. He was one of the few men I had spent some time with outside of work. Not that we were best friends or anything, but we had spent a night or two together before. "I can''t complain. The usual before you start?" He knew me well, so when I nodded he didn''t take long to place my favourite drink in front of me. I thanked him and put it back, not caring too much about etiquette right now. "I''ve seen you''ve been busy already. How''s the new guy?" "Eh, he''s okay, pretty good with his tongue. Probably will be fully working in a couple days." "Oh? Enjoyed his service?" he smirked, knowing full well that I wasn''t above enjoying myself with the new hires. I gave him a wide smile in return, shifting a bit on my stool at the memory of Paul''s tongue playing around my nether regions. "Yup." "Gonna train him yourself, or leave that to the others?" "Nah, he''s good enough for the others to do that. I''m too busy with clients to spend much time there." I shrugged and motioned to the glass to ask for a refill. Dax of course obliged me, and soon I had another full drink in front of me, "I mean, you are popular. But I guess that makes sense considering how good you are." "Trying to rope me into another night spent together?" I asked with a smirk, then put the second drink back. "Nah," he shook his head, "I found myself a potential partner. We are still dancing around it a bit, but I am pretty sure she wants me as much as I want her." "Oh? Now that has me curious," I said with a grin, "Who''d you find?" "Nobody you''d know. She''s from the outer edges of the inner city. We met at a club, one thing led to another, and well¡" "Wow, Dax is moving up in the world. Inner city, eh?" I snorted, "Don''t forget about us little people in your new mansion." "Hey, you know I wouldn''t!" He sounded a bit hurt, "And I doubt I''d move in soon, if at all. Inner city ain''t really my style. Well, a bit early to think that far ahead anyways." We spoke for a bit longer and I had one more drink before I had to start working. By this point I was already pretty hammered, but I knew that both the first two clients would be very much into that. Really not looking forward to getting my asshole destroyed, I made my way up to my room and prepared. By the time I was done with my first three clients my ass was hurting like crazy. As if the first guy hadn''t been enough, the other two also had the funny idea of trying anal. Great. Taking a small break before my next client, I stood outside in the freezing night air, enjoying the feel of the breeze flowing over my skin with a joint in hand. Breaks were a newer addition to our business, courtesy of some Samurai who apparently was very pissed about the ''shoddy treatment of working girls'' (Yes, working girls! In this day and age¡), and so to stop the district being blown to kingdom come the gangs relented and added breaks to our schedule. Ten minutes a day. It wasn''t a lot, but I didn''t complain. If I was honest with myself, I was really looking forward to my last client for the day. She was cute, not exactly my preferred looks but getting very close to it, and I could already feel myself getting excited. I just hoped that she would be more relaxed than the others. Anyways, finishing my break I went inside once more, revelling in the leering looks I got from the clients waiting for their appointment with other joytoys. As I walked past them, I grinned with a bit of a sashay in my step before I made my way upstairs to my room. I had the second room in the eastern hallway, the first vacant at the moment after poor Lena OD''d on some designer drugs brought in by a client. That had been a very hard day to deal with. Lena had been my senior and in charge before me, even if she had basically given me all her responsibilities. Mainly that was to train me up, but also because she really couldn''t be arsed and was much more interested in snorting lines off of guys'' dicks. In a way she had been a lot like me, really liking her job, but where I preferred alcohol and shit like that while I got bent over, Lena was all in on the hard shit. I had kind of known that she would suffer this fate some day, and I don''t think she even minded too much. It had been her life, after all. To my surprise my next client was already there, waiting for me. For a moment I panicked. Did I read the time wrong? No, I still had ten minutes. She also didn''t seem impatient or angry, more¡ embarrassed? Awkward? Probably her first time visiting a joytoy. With a sweet smile I walked up to her. "Chloe, is it? I am Seraphine, it is such a pleasure to meet you," I said, hugging her tight for a moment, before I took one of her arms and hugged it, pressing it between my breasts. She was tall, nearly two heads taller than me, so I had to look up a bit, but I really didn''t mind. Her furious blush was distracting me too much for that. "I hope I didn''t keep you waiting for too long," I added, before motioning inside my room. "Uh¡ No, no, not at all. I just¡ didn''t know where to wait, is all." Her voice was quiet, her gaze locked on my figure. Chloe had the stature of a soldier, never quite relaxed. Otherwise she looked like any other girl you would see on the street, although she did have a bit more scanty looking clothes on than would be normal. Nothing scandalous, by far not as revealing as my own dress, but from her thin blouse it was quite evident that she was excited for something. It fit her very well, and I was already looking forward to the evening. Gently dragging her inside, I closed the door and locked it behind me, before turning back to her. "Now then, honey, what can I do for you today? Any ideas on where to go or do you simply want to see what the evening brings?" Finally her eyes snapped up to mine, panic and embarrassment visible in her gaze, "I, uh, sorry, uhm¡ I honestly¡ I don''t know." I smiled, she was just too sweet, "No need to be shy, you came here to admire me so feel free to do so," I said with a teasing wink, before I took her hand and led her to the little bar in my room. It was just big enough for two people, and wasn''t a standard fare in other brothels from what I knew. "Would you like a drink to start off the afternoon?" I asked, opening the locked cupboard that contained all the drinks and drugs I had available. "Sure, I guess that would be nice," she said, and sat down at the bar. I nodded, "Any preferences?" "Not really, no. Just give me whatever." Bingo. She was cute and adorable and I already liked her a lot, but I wasn''t above pulling out the most expensive drink I had to get a few more creds out of her. Pouring us both a glass I put away the bottle before I made my way over to the second barstool. Taking a seat I leaned into her, while offering her one of the glasses. "You have never visited a joytoy before, have you?" I asked with a knowing smile. She chuckled, "That obvious, huh," she shook her head, "No, I haven''t. This is the first time. Decided to treat myself since I just got¡ let''s say promoted, not long ago." "Oh! How exciting!" I said and hugged her from the side, squeezing her a little, pressing my breasts into her side. "A promotion. Might I ask what you do for work?" She chuckled awkwardly, "Uhm¡ Not to be rude, but I don''t think I want to share that yet. Maybe later." "Oh, I apologise for the question," I said, scowling at myself a bit at that faux pa. "Nah, don''t worry about it. You couldn''t have known. Anyways, yeah, I have zero experience with¡ all this. Like, I kissed once, but that''s about it." She seemed extremely embarrassed about that statement. "Ah, well, we can change that. Just tell me when you are ready," I said with a purr, and sipped on my drink. Chloe didn''t answer, just took the glass and emptied it with one big gulp. It very much fit the serious way she held herself. "Y''know¡," she said after a moment, still eyeing the empty glass, "And I do apologise if this is a personal question, but I am curious¡ How do you do it? Like doing this job. I couldn''t imagine myself being here, even just getting here for an enjoyable evening is¡ embarrassing." She chuckled a moment later, but didn''t elaborate. I sighed inwardly. It was a question I got from a lot of women who came to me, the more chatty kind anyway. Most couldn''t fathom what it was to sell your body for money, a lot of them were judgmental about it. Not that they would refrain from happily using my services just like the rest of my clients. "Well, personally I like my job. I get paid to enjoy myself, fool around, have fun, and get drunk on the clock," I shrugged, "It also means I can help the others, who end up here because they have nowhere else to go." "Sure, but like¡ don''t you ever feel¡ I dunno¡ like you''re worth more?" Chloe asked, looking at me, studying me. There was no judgement there, only curiosity, so I bit back on my more rude reply. "Maybe¡ I don''t come from much. Ma and da disowned me when I was still a kid, abandoned me the moment I showed even the slightest reluctance to take over the family business. Went a lot with gangs then, did most of the stuff I do here, just without pay. Nearly no night I wasn''t bent over some bedframe to get fucked, high as a kite, that kind of thing y''know. Mind you, I wasn''t forced to, I always had a high libido, takes very little to get me really heated. When I got old enough this was basically the only thing I could do, since I didn''t want to join the military or some PMC. Not that I don''t want to help people, but it just¡ The fact that I might need to shoot other people on a daily basis scared me off. Was enough I had to do that in the gangs. Here I can help in other ways. At least the joytoys, I mean." I realised too late that I had gone on for a bit longer than I wanted to, my mind muddled from alcohol and weed, plus some of the more esoteric things that my previous client had me take. It also didn''t help that she made me feel¡ safe. Just having her next to me kind of reassured me about a lot of things, almost like life wasn''t quite as shit as it used to be. "I see¡," she said, still looking me up and down, a slight bit embarrassed still, but not as much as before. "I get that feeling, I think. Didn''t have it as bad as this, but we never had much in terms of money, nor did I get to grow up in the nicer parts of town. My family helped me, and I helped them, our neighbourhood was a close knit group. Did some gang work, although mostly to keep the placesafe, then joined the military. Only recently got out, to¡ pursue other venues," she added at the end, clearly keeping something from me, not that I minded. "Sorry, I came here to enjoy myself, and now I start asking questions about your personal life and bore you with my life story," she laughed awkwardly. "Oh no, don''t apologise. I am here to help you relax and have a good time, and sometimes that means more than just to sleep with the client. There was a time, before I became a joytoy, where that was actually a big part of the reason people came here. Have a chat with someone that wouldn''t judge them, before you got to have fun. Clear your mind, then relax. I¡ I''m kind of sad I didn''t get to experience that time. These days I open the door and the first order is ''on your knees''. I love it, true, but it could be more, y''know?" "I guess. Mind if I have another drink? Whatever you just got us, it''s good," she asked, pushing her glass over to me. I smiled and nodded, getting up to pour her another drink. "Maybe something¡ less exquisite? That one is expensive. Don''t want you to end up with too bad a surprise." I didn''t know why I asked, normally I kept that to myself and just poured drink after drink to earn more money. Something about her though¡ I couldn''t quite put my finger on it, but something deep down wanted to show her some courtesy. "Nah, it''s fine. I didn''t come from money but in recent history my life changed quite a lot. Unless you charge like a mil I don''t need to worry," she said with a laugh, "Still sounds fucking stupid to say that." I chuckled dutifully, although it did make me question why she was here if she had that kind of money. Lots of high profile brothels in other parts of town. With another drink poured I set it down in front of her, then put the bottle away and pulled out another joint, "Want one?" I asked, but she shook her head. With a shrug I lit it and took a deep pull. There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. "So¡ I didn''t know what to expect, so I booked double, any ideas how we could¡ enjoy that time?" Her adorable blush was back and I smiled at the sight. "I have lots and lots of ways. Do you want to keep it vanilla or are you open to experimentation? I have an entire wardrobe full of fun toys to try out if you want." That had her gulping. "I, uh¡ I guess, vanilla at first, but¡ I guess I am not too averse to experimentation?" I smiled, took another deep pull of the joint, then came back around the bar again, sitting down on her lap. "Well then¡," I said quietly, my voice husky, "How about¡ we start¡ here," I said, my free hand starting to roam her stomach, while I leaned in closer to her. She said she didn''t have experience, so I decided to take it slow and give her the opportunity to accept my offer of a kiss, instead of going for it myself. She seemed like she needed a bit of agency. Our lips met, making my heart skip a bit, before starting to beat faster. I could feel the heat in my abdomen, the familiar feeling of rising excitement. At first I kept it chaste, only giving her pecks, before eventually I started to slowly introduce my tongue to our little game. She accepted it, soon answering my approach with the same fervour. One of her hands came up to mine, slowly pulling it closer to her chest. But before I could start to enjoy it, undoing her blouse, the lights in my room flickered, the alarm started blasting full force, and a text appeared in my vision, big aggressive letters blinking at me in red.

INCURSION DETECTED!

"Fuck!" *** Chapter Forty-Three - Buying the Gate to Nowhere Chapter Forty-Three - Buying the Gate to Nowhere "Strange earth movement? Nah man, you don''t gotta worry. Yellowstone won''t blow." --Yellowstone Park Ranger, 2024 *** New Point Total: 21,124 I sucked in a breath as I saw that number. It was... lower than I''d like it to be. I mean, I still had a fuckload of points, I couldn''t complain, but a big part of me really hated spending money and points or whatever. It felt wrong to spend anything like that on stuff that wasn''t immediately necessary. ... Fuck, I really wasn''t a good capitalist, was I? I was sure there were like, therapies or something offered to help people become more used to spending what they had. Not that I really cared to go through that kind of shit. "Careful. Careful, dammit," Major Tinwhistle snapped. The thing I''d bought was being winched up by a crane that looked like it was three sizes bigger than what was necessary. It was the portal component of the railgun, a large boxy device with several attachments on the sides and a complex layered set of heatsinks on the back. The business-end, which faced the inside of the railgun''s barrel, was a large circular disk, slightly concave and very reflective. There wasn''t a portal on it yet. Myalis said that portals weren''t energy efficient at the best of times, so this one would act like something of a camera aperture. It would flick open and close the moment the projectile was to pass. The heatsinks and shit were to regulate the temperature. Both from the projectile, which was passing real close, and from the shift caused by both the portal itself and the vacuum of space doing space vacuum shit. "Careful," Major Tinwhistle said. She''d been spending most of her time this last day or so in the command tents and structure. But this bit was important enough that she was out here herself. I think it was to make sure that her engineers knew that any fuckups would be done right in front of their boss. Their boss who had a short staff, like a small batton riot cops used. She was using it to point to things, but it looked like it wouldn''t take much effort for that bat to be turned into some good old-fashioned encouragement for anyone that fucked up. I was sure that if she caught someone fooling around, that person would be earning themselves some bruising. Tinwhistle was a tight bundle of nerves at the moment. "She''s tense," I muttered to the samurai nearest to me. That meant Princess, Knight, Hedgehog, and Gomorrah. "That component is one of the most important parts of this project," Gomorrah said without looking up from a tablet. "It''s valuable." "Yeah, ten-thousand points valuable," I said. She glanced up. "I meant credit-wise," she said. "How much could it be worth?" I asked. Princess hummed. "It''s a portal to space, but like, it''s still a portal. We don''t have commercial portal technology, right?" "Not as far as I know," Knight said. "She''s right. Give a logistics corporation a portal like this and they''ll be making billions from it by the end of the month. If they can reverse engineer it and build their own, then that''s hundreds of billions of credits. Trillions, even." "Wait, what?" I asked. Gomorrah glanced up. "One of the major production bottlenecks is transportation logistics," she said. "Portal technology would neatly side-step that. Trillions is probably an understatement." "Oh... why the fuck hasn''t a samurai sold this then?" Sure, it was expensive as fuck. I could have bought another mech for the same price, but still.... If I may... the main reason is that human technology is still several centuries away from being able to create even the simplest of portals like this one. Not only does humanity''s grasp of mathematics and physics need to improve by several orders of magnitude, humanity at the moment currently lacks the sciences required to build the devices that are required to build the devices that you would need to build the simplest of parts required on a functional portal. "We''ll get there," Gomorrah said. So I assumed that Myalis was sending that to everyone. Kinda weird, actually. Myalis liked to get in on the conversation whereas I hadn''t heard a word from Princess'' AI and Atyacus, Gomorrah''s AI, was pretty darned reserved at the best of times. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. We paused our discussion as the portal was lowered into place. There were about six times more engineers stopping to stare than was necessary, but I didn''t blame them. This wasn''t the last step in creating the Big Gun, but it was the last important one. All that would remain after this was replacing some of the top plating over the end section of the gun and piping in some things. There were three large cistern container things being installed already. Huge off-white cylinders wide enough to park a semi-trailer in the centre with room to spare. They were going to hold the water for the cooling system, because apparently railguns ran hot. I was pretty sure they weren''t done piping those in, and the tanks weren''t filled up yet. Even now a truck pulling a massive chrome trailer was being connected to fill up one of the cylinders with deionized water. The pipework looked good, though. Tinwhistle''s engineers were doing the whole colour-coded pipe thing, and while it looked like overcomplicated spaghetti, it was well-organised overcomplicated spaghetti. Shit looked professional, which was how anyone sane would want things to look around a gun this big. The portal clunked into place, and four guys climbed down with wrenches and huge bolts to pin it in place while others undid the chains from the crane. Tinwhistle stared for a moment longer, then nodded and made her way over to us. "It''s going well," she said. "We should have everything in place and ready to go within the next three hours." "Are we on schedule, then?" I asked. "God no," she said. "Water deliveries will be stretched out another three days. We haven''t even started doing all of the checks that I want to. I won''t be willing to put my seal on this project for another week, at least." "You know we''ll all be dead by then, yeah?" I asked. She shrugged. "That''s why, on paper, every shot you take between now and then is a calibration shot or a system test. As far as the engineering board is concerned, this project will only be ready to go long after it''s either accomplished its job or we''re all dead." "Cool," I said with a nod. That made plenty of sense to me. There had to be ways to get around stupid paperwork-based restrictions. "Is the lack of water going to be a problem?" She shook her head. "I looked at the amount of cooling we needed to be barely functional, then multiplied it tenfold, then I did it again, because it''s one of the easier areas to have redundancies in." "Oh," I said. "Isn''t that overengineering?" She stared at me. "Yes. And?" "Uh. Okay." "Look, this is a big deal for my career," the Major said. "I''m not going to have it fuck up because we cut corners. Anything that can have redundancies will have redundancies. Those redundancies will have redundancies of their own. The first thing to fuck up will be investigated and those responsible will be taken out back and shot. And because we''re working with redundancies, they''ll be shot a second time to be sure." "Alright, I get it," I said as I raised my arms in surrender. Chick was nuts. I didn''t know if it was an engineering thing or not, but I wasn''t sure I wanted to find out. "So, how soon can we shoot?" The major looked at her tablet. "Three hours. Give us five, to be sure. Since this is a railgun, we''ll be doing a dryfire test first to see if all the capacitors are working as they should. I don''t expect any actual issues there. They''re all ET-tech and that shit has QC like nothing made on Earth." "ET-tech?" I asked. "Extra-terrestrial." "Ah." She meant protector-grade shit, which... yeah, I''d never heard of anything samurai purchased breaking because of poor quality. "Well okay then. I guess we''ll go watch our German pals for a bit, then come back and check up on you. Let us know as soon as the gun''s ready to fire." "That I can do," she said with a serious nod. "This... this is going to look so good on my record." I bet it would, but I wasn''t sure I wanted to be around the engineer. I might knock something over, and then she''d wail at me with that stick of hers. *** Chapter Forty-Four - The Weltraum-Gewittermeister Tesla-Kollisionsgenerator Chapter Forty-Four - The Weltraum-Gewittermeister Tesla-Kollisionsgenerator "No Catherine, a group of AI isn''t called a glitch." --Correspondence between Protector AI Myalis and Samurai Stray Cat, 2057 *** "I had to set this up in a hurry, and I didn''t want to use up too many points on something so non-essential, so forgive me if it''s not as great as it could be," Grasshopper said as she led us into a strange tent next to the command area. It was strange from the outside, the walls made of a glossy white material that reflected sunlight in a weird way. The walls seemed thick for a tent too, but otherwise it didn''t stand out too much. If I was driving by, I wouldn''t give it a second glance. The interior, however, was way stranger. There was a carpet, for one. Or maybe it was a rug? I didn''t know enough to tell the difference. Lights hung from the ceiling in little strips, casting a yellow glow against the walls, and there was a large television screen at the far end of the room. There was a single couch off to one side. It was beige with green specks that I soon realized were little cartoon grasshoppers patterned into the material. Other than that the only furniture was a mini fridge humming in the corner. "I tried to make it feel homey. I think everyone should order their own chairs, but if you don''t have a catalogue for it, just ask! I don''t mind! Oh, there''s snacks in the mini-fridge, please feel free to take anything you want." Grasshopper clapped her many hands together and smiled at the lot of us. I glanced back. I was here with Gomorrah and Princess and Knight, but Hedgehog was taking up the rear with Tankette and Rac was here too, next to Gros Baton. "So... what''s the goal here?" I asked. "It''s a viewing party," she said. "I sent a message to my friends in the Night Watchmen network and they agreed to patch us into their feed for the big event. It would be a shame to only learn what happened via reports instead of seeing it for ourselves." "They have cameras that good?" Gomorrah asked. "For a live feed, I mean." "The time delay is somewhat mitigated," Grasshopper said. "Though I didn''t look into the mechanics of it. I believe our front-row cameras are provided by the Keiretsu. They have monitoring drones closer to Phobos than anything else. Let me set things up while everyone makes themselves comfortable!" Tankette stepped up, tilted her head, and... didn''t quite hum something? Was she sub-vocalising? A moment later a seat thumped onto the rug a step before her. It was... a tank chair. Like, not a chair from a tank, probably, but a large, armoured lay-z-boy style recliner made of metal with thick rivets and a canvas-covered seat. "Did you ever get a furniture catalogue?" Gomorrah asked me. "No? Did you?" She nodded. "For the house. Atyacus, as discussed." A seat appeared for her too. A sort of love seat, all black leather with a subtle bit of black embroidery on it that hinted at flames without there actually being any. "Fuck ?a, j''vais me chercher une chaise normale. Tu veux quelque chose?" Gros Baton asked Rac. She shrugged, then left with him, supposedly on a quest to find some chairs. I squinted at a free spot on the ground. Did I have any catalogues with access to chairs? Did I even want to spend points on a chair to begin with? If you''re wondering, your Class I Medical Utilities catalogue does have seating available, but I''m afraid it won''t be anything too comfortable. Your Sunwatcher Technologies catalogue does have seating that should fit a human physiology. That sounded like a somewhat suspicious way of putting it. "Sure, nothing more than a dozen points or so. I don''t want to be broke because of a chair," I muttered. Certainly! What appeared wasn''t a chair. Chairs had right angles and a backrest and space for your ass. This thing looked like a padded bike seat at an angle, with cushions for the legs and a large pillow-like cushion at the front. I stared for a moment, trying to figure out exactly how I was supposed to sit on it before it clicked. "Wait, it''s like a bike?" The seat, if I could call it that, was a flat padded board to rest my stomach on, with the largest cushion just above that like an elevated bean bag chair for my upper body. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. "That''s an interesting seat," Gomorrah said. Her flat tone didn''t disguise her amusement one bit. "Yeah, yeah, shut up," I said. I wasn''t going to toss it out now, or else I''d look like a coward. So I walked up to the chair...thing and fell down onto it. It took some shifting for me to figure out how to be comfortable on it--my knees had to rest on two pads, and most of my weight was supported by that flat padded bit that ran all the way from my crotch up to my lower ribs--but once I was there, it really wasn''t all that bad. "Huh... this is nice on the back," I said. I did need to stretch my neck out a little to see the screen at the end of the room, though. Hedgehog stared at my seat for a bit, then shook his head and soon summoned... a bean bag chair. It didn''t suit the image I had of him at all, but it looked more comfortable than the fold-out chairs Gros Baton and Rac returned with a few minutes later. "Will Crackshot be joining us?" Grasshopper asked. Gomorrah shook her head. "He said he was going on a date in the group chat." "With Emoscythe?" I asked. "That''s who he asked out?" Gomorrah asked. "Yeah. I guess she said yes. He looked pretty excited about it all." "Oh, that''s wonderful!" Grasshopper said. "I hope they have a nice time together. Emoscythe Mordeath Noir is a good friend of mine. I''m sure she''ll treat Crackshot Cowboy well." "You''re not worried he might treat her wrong?" I asked. "And live?" she wondered. "... Yeah, nevermind, it was a stupid question." It took a bit for things to get started. Grasshopper acted like a good host--even though she didn''t need to--and made sure everyone had a drink nearby and access to snacks. Unfortunately her idea of a good drink was cold water or juice, and her idea of a snack was shit like celery. I was convinced that no one actually liked celery. Eating celery was performative, like doing a little dance to get likes on your media feed. I didn''t have to endure the celery for too long, though. Less than an hour after we arrived, Grasshopper excitedly turned the screen on. It immediately connected to a channel that wasn''t narrated or anything. This was raw footage of the inside of a command room of some sort. Rows of seats facing inwards towards a huge display, people in lab-coats and suits sitting behind computers and waiting for something to happen. A few samurai. Well, there was no way of knowing if they were samurai for certain, but they were dressed differently than all the rest. I did recognize Doctor Radikal in the bunch. "What''s this footage?" I asked. "Just the overview of the command room," Grasshopper said. "It''s live. We''ll be cutting to what they see once the operation starts." "Do we have an ETA on that?" Gomorrah asked. "We have another twenty minutes," Grasshopper said with a nod. "I wonder if the Keiretsu will be launching their own attack early." "That''d go against the agreement, no?" Tankette asked. "It was the Germans, then them, then us, right? I wasn''t paying too much attention, sorry." "Yeah. The Network''s not exactly German though," I said. "But close enough. I think Grasshopper means more... well, the Keiretsu''s attack isn''t going to be nearly as fast as the Network''s. I mean, how fast is their super weapon, anyway?" "As quick as gravity, I believe," Grasshopper said. I didn''t know how fast that was, but I had the impression that it was still faster than a suicidal drone swarm. "Something''s happening," Rac said. I glanced back at her, then up to the screen. It did, indeed, look like something was happening. The samurai were moving off to the side and the people at the desks were perking up. Some chatter came through, but it was all in German so I didn''t have a sense of what was being said. Then the screen switched to complete darkness. It took me a moment to notice the faint lights of distant stars. A HUD appeared over the screen, then it zoomed in on a distant spec. The more it zoomed, the greyer it became until there was an image of a rock floating in space in the centre of the screen. The wings could only mean that this was Phobos. "Oh, I should have gotten popcorn," Grasshopper lamented. *** Chapter Forty-Five - If Youre Unhappy and You Know It, Flap Your Wings! Chapter Forty-Five - If You''re Unhappy and You Know It, Flap Your Wings! "So, Chips as Subscription didn''t work out. So I was thinking... how about we continue our previous Product Size Adjustment? Introducing... Bag of Chip! Now available in all 725 flavours currently available! Low in calories, and each bag is large enough to have room for plenty of tangential advertising too!" --Layers Potato Chip Company, CFO Memo, 2038 *** We got a full HD view of space and Phobos in the distance, but it didn''t help explain anything. Which was why I was kind of thankful when a corner of the screen was suddenly taken up by a familiar face. Doctor Radikal adjusted his glasses, then ran a hand over his face. He had a thick five-o''-clock shadow. I didn''t know much about facial hair, but it looked like he might not have shaved in a day or three. Actually, the bags under his eyes suggested that maybe he just hadn''t slept in that time. "Ah, yes, greetings friends and compatriots," he said. "I see that we have listeners from both the Keiretsu and the Big Gun Project. Greetings, greetings." The image on the rest of the screen shifted, then zoomed out. It turned into a sort of map, an empty grid with Phobos on one end, lines pointing out which direction the moon was moving in, along with its relative velocity. More dots appeared, Keiretsu drones flying in formation with their own velocities plotted out and an ETA to impact. "As you can see, our partners'' drone flights are going to hit Phobos approximately nine hours from now. This first wave contains mostly high-yield thermonuclear deterrents. Ah, but before that, our Weltraumgewittermeister Teslakollisionsgenerator will be going online for the first time to hopefully rip the wandering moon asunder." The grid map zoomed out and out and out, then a new icon appeared, this one around a small green-blue marble that had to be Earth. The icon looked like a metal coil with some stylized lightning bolts around it. "The Weltraumgewittermeisterteslakollisionsgenerator will be coming online in t-minus... one minute. Oh my, one moment, I may be needed here." Doctor Radikal''s image disappeared. I shifted in my weird seat and glanced at the others. They were mostly relaxing. Tankette had stood up at some point and come back with more food. It was mostly mini carrots and some dipping sauce, and like, chips and popcorn, but the healthy kind which tasted alright but didn''t hold up against the artificial crap I''d grown up on. Still, I grabbed a bowl and stuffed my face full because I wasn''t raised to say no to free food. "So, I''m guessing we''re not actually going to get to see anything," I said. "Too far, right?" "You''d usually be quite correct," Grasshopper said. "But I suspect that there are enough sensor apparatus pointed at Phobos that we will actually be able to see something visually. Otherwise we''ll have to rely on real-time simulations." "Eh, good enough," I said. I was on the fence a little. I really wanted to see the Weltra... the storm tesla collider thing work. If it took out the moon in one hit, then that''d be that. Another part of me really wanted an excuse to use the Big Gun. We''d just built the world''s biggest hammer, it would be a shame if we couldn''t find anything vaguely nail-shaped to test it on. "Ah, I have returned!" Doctor Radikal said as his image reappeared. He tugged his tie loose and smiled. "The Weltraumgewittermeisterteslakollisionsgenerator is about to fire. Please observe the efforts of our work!" The screen flickered to a live feed of a space station. There was a long white boom arm extending away from a... thing. There was nothing to give anything a sense of scale, so I didn''t know if what I was looking at was the size of a building or something tiny. The stars in the back were shifting though, and soon things rotated enough that I saw Earth in the background. Then a small item detached itself from the satellite and flew closer, and I realized that it was an astronaut in a suit with some sort of jetpack on. They flew around the machine, giving me a sense of its scale compared to a person. And it was fucking massive. Well, no, I''d seen massive things before, skyscrapers and the like. This wasn''t anywhere near that scale. Even our Big Gun was larger by an order of magnitude. But the Storm Collider looked like it was as tall as a pair of semi-trailers parked end to end, maybe fifteen metres in diameter along the middle. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Mostly it was a white hexagonal pillar with some panels pushed open to reveal complex wiring and shit within. I didn''t have the multiple doctorates I''d need to make an educated guess at how it worked. The astronaut flew around, then hovered along the length of the boom arm holding the camera. They waved on the way by and disappeared out of frame. "Final checks complete," Doctor Radikal said. He wasn''t talking to us anymore. "How are the capacitors looking? Mhm? Okay, good good. Is Honey Tea giving us the all-clear? Yes, just make sure... good." The Doctor blinked, then refocused on the camera that I imagined was floating ahead of him. He had to have some greenscreen shit going on because even when it was clear he was in a room with others, the only thing that appeared in his corner was his body from the shoulders up. "We have green across the board. The device is ready. Firing at ten percent in... ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one... firing." I glanced from Radikal to the Storm Collider and... nothing happened? I was expecting a big lighting bolt, or some electrical currents, or something. Maybe a few lights along the side of the machine flashed? I wasn''t sure. Eventually a panel did open up and what looked like a massive heatsink unfolded itself. It might have been warm? It was hard to tell. The heatsink was dropped, and a drone flew out to pluck it out of space to bring it back to something offscreen. The screen switched to that zoomed-in view of Phobos, and I found myself sitting up straighter. The moon was being crushed. It wasn''t super obvious at first glance, but there was movement on the surface. Large areas of the moon were cracking. What was obvious were the wings. The massive almost butterfly-like wings spreading out from the sides of Phobos were being squeezed into the moon''s sides. Arcs of electrical energy were coursing along their surface, leaving long burning scars where they passed. "No immediate reaction from the moon," Doctor Radikal said. "Can I have the... yes, thank you." He brought something up, a tablet that he read over then nodded as if to himself. "Looks like the collider is working. We have signs that there have been several minor shifts on Phobos'' exterior structure. The moon''s temperature has risen by two degrees!" That didn''t sound like much at all, but maybe I was wrong. The shifts were probably a lot more impactful. I could imagine Phobos being filled with antithesis tunnels and hives within the moon''s surface. The equivalent of a small earthquake would mess those up. "Pushing to one hundred percent," Radikal said. This time there were definitely more lights on the Storm Collider flickering on and off. Each side of the collider opened, ejecting six heatsinks that were glowing red. Some even looked like they''d been slagged by the heat. "Hmm, minor damage alerts on the main collider''s cooling system," Radikal said. "Drachensch?pfer was right." The screen flicked back to a view of Phobos. This time there was no hiding that the Storm Collider had an effect. The moon looked like... like someone had grabbed a few pieces of paper, scrunched them into a ball, only now that same paper ball had been crushed by a giant''s hand. The massive wings were splattered against the moon''s sides and there were canyon-sized cracks running along across the surface. The far side of the moon exploded. Chunks of rock that the on-screen hud quickly measured as being half a kilometre long were tumbling away from the backside of the moon and spreading out. "Regrouping," Doctor Radikal said. There was a sort of pulse. I wasn''t sure how to describe it, but the reaction was plain to see. The bits of the moon scattering away paused, then came crashing back down against Phobos'' surface. "Nice!" I cheered. And then, because I had awful timing, the antithesis decided that this would be a good time to react. Massive tentacles burst out of the moon''s side, a thousand openings on their slimy surface disgorging tiny black forms that quickly hid against the black of space. More things came pouring out of the moon. Some huge, whale-like creatures that I''d never seen before, enormous ropey worms, and the moon looked like it was forcing itself apart once more, only this time the sections were linked together by long strands of living matter. Phobos had come alive, as if it was a single living thing host to a million little monsters, and it didn''t look happy about it. *** Stray Cat Strut Music! - Kill and Buy [Kuro-P] Link to the Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV3ONGVlOYM So, this has come out of absolutely nowhere for me! Made by the fantastic Kuroi just... because he felt like it? Here''s a heap of alternative links too: Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/album/6GauE8... Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. iTunes: / kill-and-buy-with-b-side-maniac-rising-single Amazon music: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0D... Check it out! And check out Kuroi''s other music too! Kuroi Chapter Forty-Six - Eww, What Even Is That? Chapter Forty-Six - Eww, What Even Is That? "Antithesis specimens are divided into broad categories called ''models.'' These models represent a general shape taken by the aliens, though there will always be some deviation between subjects of the same model, just as no two humans are exactly alike. Models are, in turn, categorised in tiers. Tier one represents all models from one to ten. Tier two represents all models from eleven to twenty, and so on." --Antithesis Identification - A Xenowatcher''s Primer, Birdwatchers of America, 2046 *** "What the fuck am I looking at?" I asked as I kept staring at the unfolding monstrosity on the screen. The antithesis... thing was unspooling long fleshy... not-quite-tentacles. These were bridging the gap between massive segments of Phobos'' surface crust, almost like some sort of weird shell being expanded outwards. There was a tug, and the shell started to close once more. Plates that had to be the size of entire provinces crashing togethers at the edges and sending small chunks of rocks flying every which way. That looks like the start of a Model Sixty-Eight. They''re one of the more esoteric biological constructs that the antithesis will deploy once they have space superiority. Think of it as a mobile hive. "That thing''s a hive?" I asked. But yeah, that made some sorta sense. "No, nevermind, that makes sense. It''s fucking massive though." Antithesis generally grow larger the higher the tier. This isn''t always the case, but there''s a definite pattern of growth, both in size and complexity and capability. A Model Sixty-Eight can grow to be the size of a small moon. As evidenced by what you''re seeing now. "Anything we need to know in particular about it?" I asked. "Or is it just a bigger, meaner bug that we need to squish?" Expect it to be able to move and manoeuvre in ways that would seem counter-intuitive based on its size and mass. Also, expect esoteric weapons and capabilities. Higher tier models are more versatile, and their biological nature doesn''t prevent them from using something akin to modern technology. I closed my eyes for a moment, then stood up, which was a little awkward considering the weird chair I''d bought. Somehow, my back felt... nice? I glanced across the room. The others were mostly glued on the screen, watching the alien moon writhe and reset itself. Data was streaming in on half the screen, and while I couldn''t parse it, I was sure Grasshopper and Gomorrah could. Maybe Hedgehog too. "Stray Cat?" Princess asked. "Are you leaving?" "I''m going to call Doctor Radikal," I said. "Susan too, I guess." I didn''t like being pushed into anything like a leadership position. It wasn''t my thing. But... fuck. I wasn''t awful at it. Not good enough to start bragging, but I wasn''t a complete dumbass. I could figure it out. I''d like to think that I had street smarts enough to handle the bottom rungs of New Montreal well enough. This whole thing was on another level, but some of that same logic applied across the board. My gut was telling me that this was like when two gangs that shared a block had to deal with some corpo fuckery. In that kind of situation, putting heads together was usually the best move. So I pulled up Doctor Radikal''s information on my contact''s list and gave him a call. It took two rings for the good doctor to reply. No video, voice only, but that was fine. "Ah! Stray Cat! Yes, I was just thinking I ought to give you a call. Susan as well. I imagine you''ve been watching our stream?" "I have, yeah. We set up a mini-cinema over here to watch it all live." "Yes, well, that means I won''t need to explain things too much," he said. "Can you give me but a moment? I will get into contact with Susan as well, we''ll make it so that a minimum of repetition is necessary." "Yeah, go ahead," I said as I finally stepped outside. It had started to drizzle a little, which was probably for the best. The rain was bringing down all of the dust that had been kicked up by the tractors and trucks moving around the site. It looked like most of the effort right now was being spent on closing up the top of the Big Gun with pre-made metal sheets. They were three-quarters of the way to the end. It took a few long seconds, but eventually Doctor Radikal came back on and there was a faint click as Susan joined the call. "Greetings, Stray Cat," he said. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. "Heya," I replied. "So. Phobos was an egg and we''ve cracked it, huh?" "An apt metaphor," Doctor Radikal said. "Before entering this situation, we created a predictive ten-tier system for gauging the results of our weapons platform upon Phobos. One being absolute success, ten being an unmitigated disaster." "And this is an eleven sort of situation?" I asked. "No, merely a seven," he replied. Well, shit, they were more pessimistic than I was. "Seven still sounds a little bad," I said. "Did you predict this exact scenario?" "We did not, but we were aware that Phobos likely contained an active hive and that it may be able to evolve in response to our assaults. In any case, the Collider will be ready to fire once more in... six hours and forty nine minutes, and every six hours thereafter." "Okay, cool," I said. "Susan, any news on your end?" "The kamikaze are flying to Phobos as we speak. Soon you will see them strike the moon with all of our anger ready to be unleashed," Susan said. I didn''t know if it was the translation that made him sound so... poetic, or if he was just trying really hard. "I do not expect this first wave to finish our foe, but it will bloody them." A dozen or so nukes crashing into anything would bloody it, I figured. "It''s got some pretty big openings on the surface, from what I saw. That''ll sting once we slip something past the... egg-shell." "Indeed!" Doctor Radikal said. "It''s possible that the Keiretsu''s strike, followed by your own Big Gun''s shot, may be enough to kill this model Sixty-Eight. In which case the next use of the collider would merely crush Phobos back down into a large mound of rock. But I do not plan on holding out hope for such a high degree of success." "You don''t think it''ll work?" I asked. "I think that we''re punching upwards against a foe that is far stronger than we''d initially hoped. We would be remiss to expect the antithesis to roll over and allow themselves to die so easily." I nodded along. That did sound about right. "Our hits are gonna come in staggered, right? We can do one hit an hour here. That still leaves the aliens an hour to heal between each strike. How often can we use your collider?" "Four times a day," Doctor Radikal said. "Four times a day. Those times will be doing lots of damage, right? And the Keiretsu?" "Our drone production is only ramping up," he said. "The more time passes, the more frequently we''ll be able to strike." "Alright, okay," I said as I continued to nod. "This is going to be something of a longer fight, then. Not a fight of... what''s the word for a fight that''s won because one side ran out of resources?" "Attrition?" Doctor Radikal asked. "That''s the one. It''s not a battle of attrition since we''re ramping up and have more resources to call on the closer Phobos gets. If we see that what we''re doing isn''t working, then we ramp up. We can definitely afford to build a second Big Gun. I imagine your drone production can just keep growing. Not sure about your collider...." "We can upgrade it!" he said, sounding rather cheerful about the entire idea. "There are some here suggesting we do so already. A lot of the limitations we have on the device now are in place to allow it to function for longer under less strain. If there''s more risk that Phobos will be an unavoidable threat, then we can push the machine to its limits and beyond." "Okay, cool. We might want to time things going forwards. Either space it all out so that there''s non-stop damage against Phobos or time strikes to come in when Phobos is reeling already." Susan hummed. "We have time to attempt a few different approaches against the foe." "Time until Phobos is right upon us," Doctor Radikal said. "Is there any chance of that happening?" I asked. "Truly? I think it is unlikely. Several agencies are burying their heads in the sand, but as the last hours approach, I believe they will try anything. That might collide with our own attempts to save the world. Let''s focus on ridding ourselves of Phobos now rather than later." "Alright," I agreed. "Worse case, we''ll chip away at it, right? I saw lots of little bits of the moon flying off into space. I imagine we can continue doing that until it''s nothing but scattered dust, yeah?" "Those will be an issue," Susan said. "We''re going to have to contend with a great meteor shower. Though we can, given time, rid ourselves of any threateningly large objects." I puffed out a breath. It was one thing after another, wasn''t it? *** Chapter Forty-Seven - Kami-Cant Chapter Forty-Seven - Kami-Can''t "Drone warfare is changing everything. A soldier costs millions to train. A drone can be produced for cheap. American explosives, parts made in a Chinese 3d printer, motors made in Vietnam, with Taiwanese chips, running off of Indian software. Give me a million dollars and I''ll hand you a thousand flying bombs worth more than ten times their cost in soldiery." --Former Naytheon CEO Jim Jimmies, moments before retired US Marine Tucker Bison assassinated him, 2031 *** Just before I returned to our... cinema tent, I got a message from Grasshopper. The Big Gun was ready to fire. Before that, however, we had time to sit back and watch the Keirestsu''s kamikaze run. I was looking forward to it, actually. Seeing a nuke go off in space was going to be neat, I figured, and seeing multiple was... probably going to be pretty awesome. I wasn''t going to miss that. A sudden pang hit me as I walked back in though. I missed Lucy. Bet she would have loved to see this, but it was a little late to run back and fetch her. "Myalis, are we recording these streams?" I asked. Of course. For data analysis, if nothing else. There is also a possibility that these streams may serve as propaganda pieces later. I frowned, but... yeah, that was very possible. People needed to know that shit wasn''t hopeless, and what better way to give people hope than to show their enemy being peppered with nukes. "Hey," I said as I returned. "You''re back," Princess said. "How did it go?" I shrugged. "Not so bad, I think. Doctor Radikal calls it a seven out of ten on the shit scale. So it could have been worse. We''ll have to see how this next hit goes, and then give it our own shot." Gomorrah nodded from her seat nearer the front. "That seems reasonable. Are there any changes in the plan? New tactics or the like?" I flopped down onto my seat and stretched a little. Damn, it was kinda comfy. "Nothing too big. We''re switching to a sort of... war of not-quite-attrition from here on out. The Keirestsu can keep ramping up, and we''ll be in charge of smacking Phobos every hour on the hour. Our nerdier friends will crush the moon four times a day, so I think, overall, things will work out." "Oh, I see," Grasshopper said. "A war of attrition rarely works out against the antithesis, but in this particular case, the antithesis are playing a zero-sum game. They only have the moon''s resources at their disposal. And the ambient energy from the sun, I suppose. They can''t claim any more biomass than they have. Every piece of Phobos we carve away is part of their foundation gone forever." "That''s the rough idea, yeah," I said. "Do we have any idea when the Keiretsu''s thing¡ª" Grasshopper looked at one of her four wrists. There was an old-fashioned watch there, without even a digital screen. I didn''t know how to read clocks with the little arms like that, but I supposed she did. "In about five minutes," she said. "Enough time to warm up some more popcorn!" "I''ll get it," Tankette said as she hopped out of her seat. "No no, please. I''m feeling useless." The last was aimed at Hedgehog who had started to stand, presumably to help her. Tankette left, and I settled down to wait. We did chat for a bit, though not about anything too major. Gomorrah was debating with Grasshopper over the methods by which to burn Phobos. There were plenty of chemicals that could be lit up in some semblance of fire, even in empty space with no oxygen, but the issue seemed to be quantitative. A slug from the Big Gun had an upper limit on size, which meant that even with incredible amounts of compression, there was only so much gas or liquid that could be flung out at Phobos. Even the solid-fuel projectiles that would break up were relatively small. I could understand why Gomorrah was a little upset. Lighting shit on fire was her thing. "Maybe we can do one or two shots of something flammable," I said. As a treat. Plus the image of a chunk of Phobos burning would be good PR. Tankette returned just as the screen shifted. There was an image of Susan, in a boardroom filled up by a large round table. The people around him were samurai. Some three dozen in all, all of them dressed... like samurai, I supposed. There were a few punks, some dressed in form-fitting outfits that were extremely bright, and others in more traditional mil-spec armour and gear. One of them stood out to me, a woman with cat ears and a pair of long tails that twitched behind her, but hers were... not mechanical. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. "We begin," one of the samurai that I didn''t recognize said. A dude in clothing that looked fit for a ninja, though his face was covered in a form-fitting demon mask, the eye holes filled with dozens of hexagonal lenses. "Please, foreign friends and allies, observe the work of our collective." The feed immediately switched to a set of some three dozen hexagonal camera feeds. Each of them were in space, but were feeding high-enough dimension footage that with some zoom we could make out the distant blob that was Phobos. A third of the screen was replaced by a plotter of sorts. A rotating three-dimensional view of the kamikaze swarm, blue lines trailing behind little triangles all shooting out towards a yellow circle that had to be Phobos. There was a Japanese kanji over the moon, one that Myalis translated as ''Enemy'' for me. "Final approach vectors locked in," an unfamiliar woman''s voice said in faintly accented English. "Thrusting in... three, two, one. Thrust. The stars in those hexagonal screens started to slip by just a little faster as the drones accelerated on the plotter. There were individual speed-readings, but I had no frame of reference for how fast they were going. I did see the... drive plumes--I think that''s what they were called--of some of the drones who were out ahead from the cameras of those farther back. It did seem like Phobos was getting larger faster. "Contact in... three minutes." I sat back and watched. It was strange, how fucky space made distances. The timer sank faster and faster. "Boosting first-contact drones," the woman said. "They''re making space. So that the drones don''t swallow each other in their blast radius," Grasshopper said. I nodded along. That made sense to me. And then, just as the timer was reaching one minute, one of the screens went dark. "Review!" the ninja guy''s voice snapped. The footage was played back. The drone had crashed into something dark and formless in the void of space. Two more drones blinked out. "Engaging evasive manoeuvres," the woman''s voice said. She didn''t sound quite as calm. "Nuclear warheads primed. Contingency twelve active. Sacrificing drones one through six." Four of the screens went white. From the viewpoint of the other drones, there were suddenly four suns floating in the void of space out ahead of them, growing balls of brilliant light that they just barely skimmed by a split second later. The plot showed the explosions as balls the size of marbles next to Phobos, which, comparatively, looked like a beachball on the screen now. Two more drones were lost. Then six more. The plotter started to fill with hundreds of contacts out in space. Winged monsters, black and nothing, some of them were discorging spines and spikes and exploding balls covered in thorns that caught some of the drones mid-flight. It was thinning the drone swarm. But not enough to prevent some from striking the moon''s surface. On the screen for those, it looked like Phobos went from a distant baseball-sized lump of rock to the moon suddenly being right up in their face. I jumped in my seat at the suddenness of it. Every screen went white. They switched to what I presumed was another observational drone, and we got to see nine growing spheres of bluish smoke expanding in front of Phobos. Their edges curled and twisted, a fractal that soon splashed across the moon''s surface. When the dust settled, there were expanding craters pock-marking the front of Phobos'' surface. "Nine successful detonations," the woman''s voice said. "Out of thirty-six kamikaze drones," ninja-guy said. "We will send the data now. Prepare for initial observations." The plotter grew to take up the entire screen, with notated information around each location that was struck. The shockwaves from the nukes were still travelling through Phobos'' surface, and the chunks blown off the moon were coming back down, crashing into it to leave even more cracks and dents on its all-grey surface. "Was... that a complete flop?" I asked. "What were those things, in space?" "Space-capable antithesis," Grasshopper said. "And I wouldn''t call it a flop. Rather... let''s call it a learning opportunity. We''ll have to do better, next time." "Next time is our turn," Gomorrah said. She stood. "Come on. Let''s try and see how well we can do." *** Chapter Forty-Eight - Push My Red Button Chapter Forty-Eight - Push My Red Button "What''s the big red button do? Why don''t you push it to find ou-- wait, don''t actually push!" --Transcript of a Recording of the Russian Incident of 2025 *** There was this strange thing that happened whenever something big and unique was going on. I''d first seen it a few years back. A large cylindrical truck had swayed around something on the road and rammed into one of those metal guardrail things on the roadside. The cab was totalled. The driver was very dead. And then some other truck drove right into the first''s rear. They''d had time to slow down a little, so it wasn''t nearly as big of a bang, but I could still remember the sound of it. I''d been a block or so over, and I knew that the noise didn''t come from gunfire. It was too... crunchy? Anyway, I''d wandered over to find that people had split into three camps. Two or three guys were checking on the driver, looking for a pulse, trying to get him out of the truck''s cabin. I might have been tempted to help, but by the time I arrived they were already giving it up as a bad job. Dude''s brains were across the dash anyway. The other two groups were much more populous. The truck was transporting fresh water. The people in the second group had grabbed buckets and were stealing all they could. Water was expensive. Clean water moreso. The last group, the one I''d been part of that day, just milled around a dozen metres away. Rumours spread, someone who might have seen the accident repeated their story a dozen times, and we all partook in some head shaking and complaining about whatever shit had caused the accident. It wasn''t a memory I called up often, but the moment felt pretty damned similar. The Big Gun was done. Major Tinwhistle was standing tall and proud, hands on hips and eyes stained red by strain and stress. "It''s done," she announced to Grasshopper. There were only two groups this time. The onlookers, composed of all of the engineers and soldiers who''d been roped into the project, and the samurai. Well, some of us, at least. A few had contributed what they needed to, and were just milling on the edge of the much bigger onlooker group. "Stray Cat, Gomorrah," Grasshopper said. She smiled at the both of us, then started towards the very back of the Big Gun. Or was it the front? The bit where the shooting would start, in any case, not the end with the exit portal. That part of the gun was like a small shack. A well-built, brutalist''s ideal of a small shack. The walls were foot thick concrete poured over inch-thick metal plates. The inside was a cramped little space that I was pretty sure came from one of Tankette''s catalogues. There were a few small adjustable seats in front of a complex set of screens and buttons. All analogue, at least on the surface. I did notice a few ports for data-jacking into the gun, like connecting into the Mesh. Grasshopper went to the furthest seat and sat, then she gestured to the other two. One was next to Grasshopper, the other at an angle near the rear of the room. "What are we going to open with?" she asked. "You mean what are we shooting first?" I asked. "We need to make a solid first impression." "Something with good penetrative power might be best for now," Gomorrah said. She looked across the screens and muttered something I didn''t catch, probably to Atyacus. They lit up. Diagnostics flashed by, and then a long list of status readouts. It looked like we were green across the board. There was only one item that was flashing. Hypervelocity Round Missing. "What about that Casaba-Howitzer?" I asked. "You''d mentioned those, Grasshopper, and I looked them up. They''re hot as hell." "That should carry some amount of penetrative power," Grasshopper agreed. "Load it in!" I blinked, then looked to my left where there was a heavy metal breach held closed by a chunky looking handle. "Oh," I said. I tugged the handle back, exposing a hole that was in a block of iron a foot and a bit wide and tall. A small engraving on the plate said INSERT SHELL HERE, which was pretty self-explanatory. "Myalis, got a casaba-howitzer for me?" I asked. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Certainly. Only two hundred points for one designed to fit into the Big Gun. I winced. Only my ass, that wasn''t cheap if we were going to be firing once an hour. Maybe we''d go for cheaper rounds later though, we did want to start with a literal bang. "Fine fine," I said. A shell appeared by my feet. It was in the usual cat-themed case, though this one had handles to better be able to grip the shell within. I opened it up, grunted as I pulled the bullet out, and then wondered which way was meant to go in first. The bullet was a cylinder with flat faces on either side and was made of what looked like polished steel. The right end goes in first. I nodded, then slotted that into the breach. It slid in with a faint whisper as air could just barely slip out along the edges of the round. Once it was settled in nice and neat, I tugged the breach closed and locked it with that big handle. The floor shook for a moment, and I could hear things moving beneath us. The screens lit up, and Grasshopper smiled at me before turning towards them. She pulled out a small datacord from her suit and plugged it into the machine. A moment later we had telemetry displayed before us. A plotter, similar to the one Keiretsu had used to show where their drones were, but a little simplified. It showed our satellite on one end, and Phobos way out in the distance. "Auto-targeting on. Let''s aim for centre mass?" "Sounds good," I said. "It won''t detonate right on the moon, right?" "We can adjust the detonation range. We do want it to be relatively close," Grasshopper said. "One thousand kilometres?" "That sounds far," I said. "We don''t want to be intercepted," Grasshopper replied. "Not before the howitzer fires. Closer is almost certainly better, however, when it comes to dealing any damage." "Right, right," I said. "Go on, then." Grasshopper tapped a few keys on a little numberpad recessed into the console, then reached over to the centre where there was a large red button covered by a clear plastic shell. She flicked up the shell, clicked on four toggles, and then paused as the Big Gun started to hum. Text appeared over the main screen. BOOT UP IN PROGRESS SHELL LOADED MAGNETS ON CAPACITORS AT... 100% TARGET LOCKED BLINK PORTAL TEST... PASSED READY TO FIRE "Does anyone in particular want to do the honours?" Grasshopper asked. She gestured at the large red button with the word FIRE stencilled across it. "I don''t particularly care," Gomorrah said. "Catherine?" "I mean... yeah, shit, I wouldn''t mind," I said. Grasshopper smiled and leaned over so that I could reach the button. I touched it, then pressed down. It made a satisfying little ''click'' noise. Then I felt every hair on my head pulling upwards and suddenly there was a deep and foreign itch in my bones. Text scrolled by on the screen, too fast for me to read. Then the Big Gun fired. There was a single thump. It was as if someone had dropped a fifty-five gallon drum off the top of a mega building and recorded the noise it made on meeting the ground. Everything rocked back and the dozens of readouts in the room flashed. "Oh shit, we good?" I asked. "We are well, yes," Grasshopper said. "Everything is still green. Look." She pointed to the plotter. There was a flashing green dot that had left Earth''s orbit and was now slowly crawling across the screen towards Phobos. The fact that it was moving at a speed that I could see, though, probably meant that it was moving at an obscene speed out there. "Nice!" I said. "When is it gonna hit?" "We have time for a small break," Grasshopper said. "Should we stock up on ammunition in the meantime? I somehow doubt this one strike will be enough to take Phobos down." "Right, not a bad idea. Do we want to try a few different things? I''ve got some ideas for what we can throw at them," I said. Gomorrah perked up. "Atyacus and I have been talking as well. Can I have the next shell?" "Go right on ahead," I said with a gesture to the breach. There were more holes like the breaches all along the back wall, where there was room to store a lot more shots. Something in my gut told me we''d probably need all of them before this was over. *** Interlude - The Free Radikal Interlude - The Free Radikal Doctor Radikal (Kaleb to his few friends) felt a hard thump against his back that almost sent him sprawling forwards, but he caught himself on the edge of a desk and glanced over his shoulder at the perpetrator. What he discovered was a familiar man, smiling gently in a way that didn''t suit his enormity. "Don''t worry so much," the big man said. "We''ve done well enough, haven''t we?" Kaleb let out a sigh, but he did nod. The Collider was, for the most part, a success. His AI had crunched the numbers, and the amount of damage the Phobos object was going to sustain from the collider alone should be enough to ensure that Phobos would only ever reach Earth in a state where Earthly forces would be able to defeat it. Moreover, they had built the collider knowing that they wouldn''t be the only ones to step up to the metaphorical plate in order to try and assist. He had expected... more, however. Perhaps this was his own fault. Kaleb was a scientist. He was born in a corporate scientific research compound to two parents who were researchers. He had grown up surrounded by men and women of science, where the rules or reality were second only to appeasing the whims of their corporate overlords. He''d gotten a good enough education and unmatchable practical learning from a very young age. In all the ways that mattered, he was encouraged to dive deep into the unknown and tear knowledge out of the grasp of reality. That''s how he liked to romanticise it. In reality most of the research had been done on the behest of various corporations trying to get a lead on their competition. They were entirely unwilling to share anything. That, and more often than not, their method of uncovering new truths was to deconstruct the work left behind by samurai. And then one thing led to another, and he''d become a samurai himself. "You''ve got that look on your face," his companion said. He grabbed Radikal by the shoulder and gave him a firm grip. It was going to leave bruises, Kaleb just knew it. "I know, Drachen, I know. I''m merely reminiscing on what brought us here." The big man, Drachensch?pfer, was a dear companion of his. A larger than life personality who didn''t know his own strength at the best of times. People dismissed him as an oaf on seeing his stature, but he was quite clever. It was no wonder Drachen had been chosen to be a samurai. Kaleb oft wondered why he, himself, was chosen. Shaking the thoughts away, Kaleb glanced across their control room. Seventeen stations with computers and systems fifty years ahead of where humanity''s greatest lay, all facing a massive screen whose definition was unmeasurable. This was the place from which they would save the Earth. There was no accounting for points and costs and such trivialities. And yet... the Collider wasn''t an immediate success. Nor had the Keiretsu''s first wave of drones. The great foe was as adaptable and clever as ever. "Drachen, I''m going to take a short walk," he said as he rolled his shoulder. "The bridge is yours." "The bridge is mine," Drachen said with a firm nod. He moved aside, then took Kaleb''s place behind the main control podium. "Will you be back in time to see the efforts of our Canadian friends?" "I''ll be back before then, yes," he replied with a nod before slipping out of the room. The Lab--the space where they''d set up their command and control room--wasn''t quite as spacious outside of the areas where space was necessary. The corridors were all rather narrow, so he found himself walking briskly through them until he reached a more open space. There was a bay window here, thick transparent plates jutting out of the wall with a small bench below. A space to sit and observe. At the moment, Neu Hamburg was below, the mega city slowly slipping by as the Lab flew past. ''You seem stressed. You are aware that the Collider has been successful so far.'' "It has," he subvocalized. "But I worry that it won''t be successful enough. There''s a margin here, and it is quite thin. A failure on our part... well, it wouldn''t be acceptable." ''If the situation deteriorates to that degree, there are options to call upon.'' Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. He nodded. There were, but he didn''t want to rely on those. Call it foolish pride, but he didn''t want to beg the higher tier, stronger samurai for assistance. They were preoccupied with Mars as it was, a situation that was in no way improving as each day passed. Pulling them back to Earth because he and his companions in the Nachtw?chternetzwerk couldn''t handle things would sting. His eyes were drawn to the deadzone beyond the edges of the city. The Lab would likely be flying over these soon, bathing the area in fire and using the opportunity to test a few new weapons in a space where that testing wouldn''t harm anyone. "Sometimes I wonder why I was chosen," he admitted. "I lack that... hopeful optimism of my comrades, do I not?" ''There''s more than one kind of hope.'' Kaleb frowned at that, then shrugged. That might well be true, but it wouldn''t settle his nerves. He let out a grunt, then turned and stomped back into the command room. Progress, scientific or otherwise, wouldn''t happen by being shy and restrained. He recalled that strange Canadian girl and her youthful disregard for pessimism. Perhaps it was all a facade, but that didn''t mean that it wasn''t a good way to lead. Kaleb swept into the room, lab coat billowing out behind him. He noticed a pair of samurai by Drachen at the command podium. "Report," he said. "Time until the Collider has cooled sufficiently?" One of the technicians jumped. The snap of his voice had them all sitting up straighter. "Four hours, sir." "Let''s tighten our intervals where we can. Collate the data from this first shot and get someone to extrapolate potential damages to the system going forwards. Let''s not waste the time we have, yes?" He turned to the others, nodded, then eyed the screen for a moment. The Big Gun had fired a few minutes ago. It had been mildly impressive. The portal system more so than the gun itself. Now they were following the projectile''s telemetry as it shot out across space on a collision course with Phobos. "Comms, send a message to the Keiretsu. I want all the data they can collect on Phobos'' geology. Not just the surface. We need geothermal readings as well. Midnight Ranger, can you share some of your sensor equipment with them if it comes to it?" The samurai in question blinked, then nodded. They weren''t a very vocal person, but their sensor technology was second to none. Kaleb hoped that the Keiretsu wouldn''t mind losing a drone in order to have better sensors around Phobos within the next couple of days. "Let''s have the Lab AI crunch some numbers," he said. "I want to know exactly what angle to strike Phobos at. Enough of our general assaults. Let''s concentrate our power where it will do the most." "That seems to be what the Big Gun team is doing," Drachen said. Kaleb perked an eyebrow at that and walked over to his friend. "They have? What is their payload?" "A Casaba-Howitzer," Drachen said. "Miss Grasshopper has forwarded us a list of their existing munitions. It seems as though they will be launching... everything at the rogue moon." Kaleb was familiar with the platform in question, but he hadn''t been expecting it as the first option the Big Gun team would be going for. He rather expected a simple nuclear device. "Well-well, that''ll be interesting to see, then," he said. He eyed the screen again. Seven minutes to impact. From earth to Phobos in what was about half an hour. Their travel speed was simply ludicrous. "We might want to consider installing similar weapon platforms in orbit," he said. Next time there was a Phobos-like disaster, it would do them all well to have the infrastructure in place to destroy it without the current mad scramble. But that was a problem for the future... assuming they made it there. "I can tell you''re worrying again," Drachen muttered. "Come on, friend, stop being concerned and start looking forwards to this! Our companions overseas are putting on a show for us, aren''t they? It''s impolite not to watch with enthusiasm!" "Hmph. Watching with enthusiasm isn''t what we need right now," Kaleb said. "Everyone, I want all of our surveillance equipment working properly before that strike lands. Our allies are giving us an opportunity to learn much, so let''s not miss it!" *** Interlude - The Samurais Samurai Interlude - The Samurai''s Samurai Susan shifted. He was on a soft cushion, one filled with a pad of a gel-like substance that had tiny motors within that kneaded the muscles of his leg, preventing them from falling asleep even after hours of being sat in seiza. It was a nice thing to have at the moment, because he had spent the day sitting here, and it didn''t look like it would change any time soon. Susan was in a well-appointed room. Traditional walls, but spaced far apart, a great glass wall that overlooked Tokyo, and a long, low table where he and his business partners could sit and discuss the current business. That business was the Big Gun group''s attempt at shaking up Phobos. "The projectile is on its final approach," Hex Kagome said. The many tiny panels over his eyes flashed through a quick pattern, then he nodded. "Our surveillance drone should be able to capture it." "Do we know what they''ve sent?" Sentai Blue asked. "I don''t care what it is, as long as it explodes in a fun way," Nya replied. Susan looked over the group. These were three of the nearly hundred Ronin that made up the Keiretsu. A full quarter of their organisation was invested in this one project, but many of the other samurai who were assisting could not be here now. A few had come to witness the first strike of their kamikaze drones first hand, but then they''d left, preoccupied by other matters. The global incursion wasn''t terrible for Japan, but it was putting a great strain on their more land-bound allies. Phobos was a problem they all had to deal with, but it lacked some intimacy for some of them. Susan took hold of a cup of warm tea--kept at the perfect temperature for sipping, and raised it to his lips. When he lowered it, it was to eye Nya. "Please calm down. I''m certain that our allies will do what they can." She grinned, then stretched all the way back, almost as if to show off the level of flexibility her oft-modified body held. "I''m sure. You saw their leader, n-yeah?" "Yes, I saw her," he replied socially. "And she is not, as far as I can tell, their leader, merely their spokesperson." "Their spokescat." "No," Susan said. She grinned, and he refused to look at her anymore, at least for the moment. He wondered what it would be like to work with Ronin who weren''t as insufferable. Nya had always had a... thing for her theme. Actually, he could say that about a lot of Ronin, himself included. There was a significant difference between the Ronin of Asia and the Samurai of the west, and it wasn''t just their strange nomenclature. There was a cultural difference as well. "Looks like it''s starting," Sentai Blue said. The man''s face was covered by a tight helmet which disguised his visage, blue and black with some light silver trim. Not dissimilar to all of the other Samurai and Ronin that adopted the Sentai name. His visor glowed, and Susan imagined that he was observing the attack even now. There was no question that Hex Kagome could see everything through his own interface. Susan reached down to the smooth wooden surface of the table and his fingers found a hair-thin crack that opened as he swiped past it. There was a jack within, one that he pulled out and carefully slotted into a corresponding connection near his temple. His augs warmed, and his vision was overtaken by visuals from their surveillance drone nearer to Phobos. In the time it took to blink, he was in space. The change made his stomach twist--he had never been good about vertigo--but he didn''t allow any of that to show. Soon enough he grew used to the fixed position. He could turn his head to see more, but even then the angle was somewhat limited, as though he were standing before a large bay window. A green circle appeared on his heads up display, then a red one. The green over the location of the Big Gun''s first shot, the red over the distant speck that was Phobos. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. "Time?" he asked. "The projectile is approaching quickly," Hex Kagome said. "Under a minute until impact." The voice had come from right next to Susan, as though the ninja were standing over his shoulder. "So, we have a minute to chat, is what you''re saying, nya?" Nya said from over the other shoulder. Susan closed his eyes, for what little good that did. "Please don''t start," he said. "Why ny-ot?" she asked. "Because I can only endure you so much," he replied, and it was the honest truth. He''d been forced to be in the same room as the cat-woman for hours already. The sad truth was that Nya was one of the better, older, and more dangerous Ronin in the Keiretsu, one of those just barely too weak to be around Mars at the moment, and until their elites returned, she had some amount of influence. She was still a thorn in his side, but that was an issue of clashing personalities, not incompetence. "Nya nya nya!~" she sing-songed right in his ear. He sighed. "Brain-rot generation," he grumbled under his breath, but not so low that she wouldn''t hear. It set her off laughing. "It''s starting," Sentai Blue said. Susan refocused in time to see a small spark of an explosion within the centre of the green circle. "Did... it get intercepted?" he asked. "No," Hex Kogame said. "Look." A sub-screen popped up before him, a zoomed in section of Phobos that was even now roiling and expanding as the surface exploded outwards. "What was that?" Nya asked. "A Casaba-Howitzer. A nuclear explosion used to propel a plasma projectile forwards at ridiculous speeds," Hex reported. The explosion continued to spread across the close-side of Phobos. It was impressive... but less so than any one of the nuclear strikes they''d landed with their kamikaze drones. "It''s penetrative," he said. Hex chuckled. "It should be." Telemetry and early scans returned, and the AI currently controlling what they were seeing ran the numbers and showed them a timelapse of the seconds before and after impact. "Hmm," Susan said. The moon''s shaking actually served as a decent way to get a better picture of what was happening beneath the surface, and what was happening was impressive. The plasma from the Big Gun''s shot had pierced through the outer crust of the moon and wedged itself deep within. It had run out of energy eventually, but not before leaving cracks in every direction, like putting a bullet through a glass pane. "Overall damage?" Susan asked. It was an impressive strike, deeper than any of theirs, but... "Light," Hex said. "Localised. It''s a needle in the kidney where what we did was like a dozen strikes to the chest. It''s more internal damage than what we did, but it won''t take the moon out yet." "Hey, our friends are helping. Maybe that new cat girl''s just testing her claws, nya?" Susan sighed, then reached up and pulled the jack away from his temple. He blinked a few times as his vision cleared and he was seeing the room as it was once more. "We''ll be trading blows with Phobos for some time, I suspect." Nya blinked back to the present as well, then gave him one of her ever-irritating grins. "Like playing with a mouse, no?" "Less a mouse and more an angry dragon," he said. "We''re projecting a victory, destroying Phobos long before it arrives on Earth, but that''s assuming that we continue to ramp up our production and our assault. Let''s not fall into complacency." "Mhm, mhm!" Nya agreed. "More importantly, I wanna go see my fellow cat! Do you need anyone to meet with the Big Gun crew face-to-face?" "No," he said. "Are you suuuuure? Nya?" she asked. This time while flopping down onto the table and half-rotating around with her arms outstretched. Sentai Blue carefully moved his tea out of knocking range. "I''m positive," he said. Though... now that he thought about it, that would get her out of his hair... and hearing... "Actually, perhaps something could be arranged after all." *** Glossary: Model Eleven Model Eleven?

Threat Analysis Report: Model Eleven Threat Rating: High Overview Model Eleven serves dual roles within the Antithesis forces: as a key aerial transporter and as a formidable combatant. Its ability to carry numerous smaller units across great distances and deploy them with precision makes it an invaluable asset for strategic operations. Threat Capabilities Mass Transport: Capable of carrying entire squads of smaller models within its expansive belly, Model Elevens can quickly change the dynamics on the ground by deploying forces where they are most needed. Combat Proficiency: Apart from its transport capabilities, Model Elevens can engage in combat using their large beak and claws, making them a threat to both ground and air targets. Enhanced Surveillance: With their superior vision, Model Elevens can relay critical battlefield information back to the hive, directing more localised forces effectively. Survivability and Adaptability: Their scaled body provides significant protection against small arms fire, though it may be vulnerable to heavier weaponry. Strategic Threat Assessment Containment Difficulty: High. Due to its size and flight capabilities, engaging a Model Eleven requires specialised equipment and tactics. Military and Civilian Risk: Very High. Their ability to transport and deploy Antithesis units deep within human territory, coupled with their own combat capabilities, poses a significant threat to both military and civilian targets. Potential for Expansion: High. Model Elevens enhance the mobility and flexibility of Antithesis forces, significantly contributing to their operational reach and effectiveness. Mitigation Strategies Anti-Aircraft Tactics: Deployment of surface-to-air missiles and other anti-aircraft systems to counteract Model Eleven air superiority. Interception Protocols: Use of fighter aircraft to engage Model Elevens before they can enter sensitive airspace. Surveillance and Tracking: Enhanced radar and satellite tracking to monitor Model Eleven movements and predict potential drop zones. Research and Development: Study of its flight and combat mechanics to develop countermeasures that exploit potential weaknesses in its design. Conclusion The Model Eleven is a critical component of the Antithesis air capabilities, combining heavy assault potential with strategic transport capacity. Effective containment and neutralisation strategies are essential to limit their impact on battlefield engagements. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Addendum M11-2: Known colloquially among troops as: - Sky Titan - Pterodactyl - Winged Leviathan - Beast of Burden - Birb - Big birbo

Addendum M11-5: Tactical Deployment Observations Field observations have documented instances where Model Elevens have been used to strategically drop smaller models into conflict zones, acting not just as transport but also as first-strike assault units. Analysing these deployment patterns has provided crucial intelligence on Antithesis attack strategies, guiding the development of targeted defence measures against aerial assaults. Chapter Forty-Nine - Im Cat and You Are Watching Deep Space Ballistics! Chapter Forty-Nine - I''m Cat and You Are Watching Deep Space Ballistics! "Today, we''re going to see how these watermelons fare against this discarded samurai railgun we found by the Ohio incursion zone! Stay tuned!" --Youtube video transcript, 2032 *** The bomb went off, then, in less time than it took for two neurons to connect, the projectile it launched was ramming into Phobos'' surface. "Fuck yeah!" I cheered as we got a big-screen view of the strike. Tankette had brought her tank around and installed a little projector on it. Major Tinwhistle had found a large white tarp and had it strung up between two cranes. Sure, this was probably the kind of shit that ought to be classified or something, but it felt wrong not to have the entire group witness the fruits of their labour. Engineers were whistling, workers were cheering. Someone had broken open a case of beer and they were being passed around. Another had set up a bar-b-que and cheap hot dogs were being roasted. It made the entire place feel like a party. It was deserved. These guys and gals had spent hours working on the Big Gun. Without them, this moment wouldn''t be happening. It was a rush job, done with no time to spare. I looked around and saw plenty of baggy eyes and slumped shoulders. These people were exhausted, but they were also happy for the moment. Proud, at least. I turned my attention back to the projection. Our strike was creating a moving wall of dust and debris away from the point of impact. A small stud of a mushroom that was slowly expanding against whatever gravity Phobos had going for it. The spots where the Keiretsu nukes had hit had taken hours to clear out, and they''d left a few massive craters behind. I had to wonder what our hit had done... but not for long, because the screen split and the right side was replaced by a 3D diagram of the moon''s surface. Lots of numbers were thrown up on screen, but it didn''t take a geologist to see the spiralling cracks moving away from the point of impact, or the way our shot had dug a hole right into the moon. "What''s that bit?" I asked as I pointed up to where it looked like there was a second explosion way deeper in the crust. I was surrounded by most of the other samurai in our group, but it was Major Tinwhistle that answered. "Spalling," she said. Let me draw up some pathing predictions. New lines appeared, showing where the chunks blown out of the back of the crust would have gone. "The moon''s surface is tough, like a shell, but the interior is likely all antithesis, with tunnels and structures dug into the moon, but also large roots and veins and arteries as well as organ-like structures within the moon," Grasshopper said. "We''ve likely done more damage with our one strike than the previous wave of drones managed to accomplish." "Damn," I said. I was feeling a bit of that pride too. It looked like we''d done the equivalent of popping the alien with a small-calibre bullet that broke up inside of them. Having shot a few bigger aliens with small arms in my day, I knew that it wasn''t nearly enough to bring one down. But it was damage. Then the diagram view zoomed way, way out, and I got to see the sheer size of Phobos compared to the tiny pinprick we''d stabbed into the moon''s side before the image winked out. "We shot an elephant with a bb," Hedgehog said. "And next we''ll see if we can''t poke a match into the elephant''s hide," Gomorrah said. "And if that doesn''t do it, we''ll try something else." "She''s right," I said. "Our job isn''t to finish the job, I guess. It''s to keep poking holes, ripping bits off, and slicing off chunks of the moon." "The predictions are still in our favour?" he asked. I shrugged, but Grasshopper confirmed it to me a moment later with a serious nod. "Seems like it." Hedgehog seemed a little restless. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot without ever standing still. "Fine. We need to set up a watch rotation on the Big Gun. And we need to set up a continued escort with the rest of the army. People will be asking questions soon, about why the advance has stalled." "Yeah. I bet that even with everything we''ve done, there will still be leaks," I said. "It makes sense to keep a watch going. One or two of us here at all times?" Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "Two is better," he said. "Some... would consider trying something against a single samurai. Any one of us could be distracted. But two? That''s a much bigger ask." "So, who''s available for the watch, then?" I asked. "I can stay tonight," Tankette replied. "I can as well," Hedgehog said. "Don''t have anything to return to right now, so I might as well." "I''ll be staying for a few more hours," Grasshopper said. "I can set out a small camp. I have a camping supplies catalogue with all sorts of goodies! You''ll feel right at home!" Major Tinwhistle looked between the lot of us, then shrugged. "I need to get my men moving by morning. But the brass will want to guard this site too. This is a Canadian Army site now, which means that we''re going to have corporate rats sticking their necks in any moment now." "We can probably warn them off," I said. "Maybe have an aug pop-up letting people who come close enough know that this is an area under samurai surveillance." "That might just encourage them," Tinwhistle said. "You''ll be letting them know that there''s something worth investigating." "I guess, yeah," I said. "But if information leaks, then isn''t it too late?" Gomorrah cleared her throat. "If that''s the case, then we need a distraction. Something plausible. Maybe even something you can build near our site that''ll leak on purpose and which will make the army and us look bad." "You wanna make us look bad?" I asked. "Just to make the attempts to hide what we have more plausible," Gomorrah said. Major Tinwhistle nodded. "It''ll have to fit with the equipment we brought over. Maybe... a mass grave? Those always piss off the media." That sounded properly messed up. "Okay," I said. "I guess... dedicate a shift to dig what looks like a mass grave. That''ll be our cover story. Do we need to go deeper? Make up reasons for it?" "No," Gomorrah said. "If we don''t have a ready excuse, then those investigating the site will have to do the research themselves, and it''ll lead them nowhere." "Okay," I said. I really wasn''t cut out for this kind of game of deception. "Can I leave that up to you, then?" I asked both women. Gomorrah and the Major both nodded. "Will you be staying overnight too?" "Not if I can avoid it. I wouldn''t mind coming in first thing in the morning. What about you? First thing in the morning in Catherine time is... around noon?" "I mean... yeah," I admitted. I glanced up. It was well past the early evening right now. All of the various attacks we''d launched at Phobos had been nearly an hour apart from each other. The next squeeze from the Collider would probably be in three or so hours, and I bet there were more drones on the way. Our own next strike was only minutes away too. "So, we''re gonna set a clock and fire the Big Gun every time it''s off cooldown?" "It''s not very hard to automate, everything is there for that already," Grasshopper said. "I just wanted to make sure that first shot was special." "Heh, alright," I said. I stretched, then looked over the crowd. The party was well underway now. It seemed like all of the tension had drained out of the group and they were celebrating as best they could. Major Tinwhistle was making a concerted effort not to notice the alcohol, or the lingering smell of weed in the air. "Well, in that case, I think I''ll be heading back out." Grasshopper giggled. "You might want to catch up to young Miss Raccoon quickly, then," she said. I blinked, then looked around again. Wait, where was Rac? For that matter, where was that little Frenchman? One moment... I have discovered your companions'' location. They''re right over here. Myalis painted a marker on my vision, one that led quite a ways away from the centre of the camp next to the Big Gun and closer to some of the big machines. I stomped my way over. If that kid was hurting Rac, I''d smack him around, Samurai or no. Fortunately, as I approached, my ears twitched and I made out the sound of giggling. Rac''s giggling. When I came around the corner, I half expected to find something inappropriate going on, but they were just sitting next to each other on the tracks of a bulldozer, both with a glass bottle in hand. "Oh, hey," I said. Well, shit, way to make myself feel awkward. *** Chapter Fifty - Trash Panda Pondering Chapter Fifty - Trash Panda Pondering "You must choose one. Cut the general working''s salary. Or cut the security force''s salary. You absolutely cannot do both." --Lessons in Human Resources, Fifth Edition, 2038 *** The ride back home, with Rac clinging to me from behind as I rode my bike across the skies, was about as awkward as I expected it to be. Probably more for me than for her, to be fair. She hadn''t done anything weird, just hung out with a boy close to her age. Maybe I was reading too much into it. It wasn''t like I was her mom or anything. She could do what she wanted. I was pretty sure Gros Baton was like... seventeen-ish, so there wasn''t anything too weird there. He was definitely a better friend to make than the gang she''d been riding with recently. Well, I guess mercs weren''t a gang, but Garter and his little buddies were bad influences. A bunch of samurai were probably much better people to hang out with. Probably. Samurai at least had the benefit of the Protector AI picking them out as ''good enough'' folk. But I might have been a little biased there. We swooped in towards the only building with a giant cat topping it off, and I brought my bike down for a gentle landing before the doorway. I could have gone into the parking garage, but the weather was actually kinda dry, for once, and I was too damned lazy to slow down fully and slip in. Plus, this spot was more fun to leave from in the morning. "Alright, off off," I said. Rac needed to hop off before I could swing my leg up and over. I bounced on the spot for a moment, then glanced over to Rac who was staring at me, hands in her pockets. "What?" I asked. "It feels like you wanna say something," she said. "No?" I tried. Her eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I''m pretty sure," I said. "So, uh, let''s go in? Unless you''re heading out again?" She looked up. The sky was that deep bluish colour that came when all the nightly ads came on, with a few spots of purple and orange where some bigger signs caught the lower hanging clouds. "Nah. It''s late. I might load up the printer again. Uh, I''m running out of materials for it." "Ah, yeah, that''ll happen. I kinda put that out of my mind, what with Phobos and all." "Right. The end of the world is more important than that," she said before shifting. "Kinda weird that we have to worry about that." "Heh, yeah, you tell me. You know, when I became a samurai, I thought I''d mostly be worrying about smallfry issues. A few aliens here and there, maybe a big hive to blow up. But mostly I expected to have to take care of me and mine and maybe the neighbourhood. This is... bigger." "I get that," Rac said. She scratched at the back of her neck. "I wasn''t expecting to live much longer, you know? There''s only so long you can go, scrounging in the undercity. I had a good run at it, but you can only be so lucky. Never expected to be where I am now." "Hmm, yeah," I said. "Uh... maybe we can do something to help others? Other Racoons out there, I mean. Not now-now, but it''d be nice. Once we have things settled. We can set something up. But first, you know, the world." "Save the world, worry about the little people after?" she asked. "Pretty much, yeah. Come on, I''m starving." I tapped her on the shoulder, then walked on home. The moment I was indoors I shucked off my helmet and tossed it onto the couch, then I flung my coat over the back of a chair that was supposed to be in the kitchen. I wasn''t just going to leave my guns anywhere, though. I wasn''t that irresponsible. If I left them out, or my sword, there was a one hundred percent chance I''d be woken up by some Kitten crying because they shot themselves in the foot. I took a deep breath, then sniffed the air some more. Something smelled nice. "Cat!" Lucy said as she popped out of the kitchen. She ran over and crashed into me with a big hug. I hugged back, of course, squeezing her closer and pressing my face against the top of her head. "Hi," I said. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. "Hi," she replied as she pulled her head back and craned her neck out to meet me in a kiss. "Mmm, good day saving the world?" "Pretty good, yeah," I said. "I''ll show you the footage later. We fired the Big Gun, it was pretty cool." "Oh, I bet!" "Maybe I''ll have you come over? I don''t think there are any rules about who can press the big red button." "Is there actually a big red button?" "It has a little plastic cover and a bunch of flicky switches and everything," I said. "I don''t even know what they do, but it''s kinda awesome." Lucy giggled, then pulled out of the hug fully, but not before grabbing my hand. "I made supper!" "Oh?" I asked as I allowed her to drag me along. "What''d you make?" "An entire chicken! Then I had to make another because someone wasn''t showing up and the kittens got into my first chicken and they... kinda messed it up. But it''s okay, the second one turned out better than the first, I think. There''s still half left!" I blinked as I tried to follow along with that. "Where did you even find a chicken?" "Well, I didn''t hunt it myself, did I?" she asked. "I bought it, Cat. You can do that, buy raw, whole chickens. They come in a bag." "Huh," I said. I supposed that was possible. The only chickens I''d ever seen were either wings, fried breasts, or in the shape of little dinosaurs. Not that I didn''t know what a chicken looked like. There were plenty of chicken logos around and stuff, and like... movies had them sometimes. Just, I''d never seen a live one, or a whole cooked one. Lucy let go of me to proudly gesture at what was sitting on the kitchen island. There was, indeed, a whole chicken there, in a glass pan filled with some sort of greasy brown sauce and chunks of... something. "What are those?" I asked. "Veggies," she said. "They''re good for you." I wasn''t in the habit of eating vegetables, and I wasn''t sure I was ready to start. But on closer inspection it was mostly diced potatoes and maybe carrots, all baked in some sort of sauce. It did smell real good, and there was still a bit of steam rising off the top. "Well shit, grab me a plate and some knives," I said. "I''m about to do a number on this bird." Lucy grinned, then turned to Rac. "Want some too? It''s good, I swear. I''ve been getting better." "I don''t refuse free food," Rac said reasonably. I started to cut into the juicier, less bony parts of the chicken until Lucy saw what I was doing and stole my knife and fork from me. Apparently I was doing it wrong or something, but the end result was being served a hefty chunk of meat and so I wasn''t about to complain. "You know, you really make saving the world worth it," I said. Lucy smiled. "That would be far more romantic if you spoke after you finished chewing, Cat." I smiled back, then made a point of swallowing. "It''s because it tastes so good?" "Nice try, but no. Oh, and by the way, we need some upgrades for the kitchen," Lucy said. "We do?" I asked. The kitchen looked fine to me. Fine-ish. It was a little messy, but I was sure Lucy could bully some of the kids into doing a half-assed job of cleaning it. "What''s wrong with it?" "The oven is a mess inside." "So clean it out?" I tried. "Fuck that, I''d rather buy a new one." I shrugged. "Okay." God, it was nice being stupid-rich. Lucy seemed to agree, because she looked extra smug for a moment. "Alright! Well, if that''s the case... I think I''m ready to explore baking. Let''s see if I can''t make a cake." "Your cake is fantastic already," I said. "What did I just say about flirting with your mouth full, Cat?" "I had a long day?" "I don''t know how that excuses you," she said. "Well, whatever. So, tell me about your day. Spill that juicy gossip, because I''ve been starving for it over here." "Oh, I have some good stuff to spill," I said. "So, what do you know about international samurai and their weirdness?" *** Chapter Fifty-One - Adamantium Toenails Chapter Fifty-One - Adamantium Toenails "Sassy? No, my AI is nice and polite? He''s like an old-timey butler. What? No, my AI is like a little sister I''ve never had. What do you mean a butler and little sister? Mine gives me shit all the time!" --Overheard conversation between three Samurai, 2025 *** I woke up to a kick. It was weird, because I''d once been pretty used to waking up to kicks, but I hadn''t felt one in a while. Lucy''s deteriorating condition often led to weird twitches. She said they hurt when she was awake but she didn''t feel them while sleeping. Instead, I was the one to feel them as she rammed her sharp little toe-nails into my shins and calves. It had been a while, though. Maybe the kicking wasn''t medical at all and Lucy was just lying to cover up her habit of moving in her sleep? We used to sleep in the tiny, narrow beds at the orphanage. They were only barely large enough for one adult, so any movement was hard to miss. I grumbled as I came awake and turned around. Blinking, I made out Lucy''s form in the dark with my cybernetic eye. She was sleeping at a forty-five degree angle across the bed. Blankets thrown off her upper body and face drooling into a pillow she was hugging. I grinned. She looked like absolute crap, which is why I took a picture and sent it to her. It would be a surprise when she woke up and checked her messages. Reaching down, I rubbed at my calf where she''d dug her nails in. "Dammit, Lucy," I muttered. She''d never drawn blood, but I swore it was a near thing. I checked the time and was horrified to discover that it was only eight in the morning. Holy crap, I was waking up at a reasonable time? I wasn''t even tired enough to fall back asleep. I rubbed at my face, then popped open my media feeds for a quick scroll-through. Lucy and I had been using the same old app for like, ten years now. It was a free version of an aggregator for various media accounts. It picked the juiciest gossip, news, propaganda, and advertising and shoved it all into one stream of easy-to-scroll slop. These kinds of aggregators usually had a monthly subscription fee, or you had to endure ads every so often, but this one was a beta version Lucy had found on some sketchy site that was a hundred generations behind. As long as we didn''t update it, we were fine. It was a right pain in the ass to stop it from updating though, but I''d long ago gotten into the habit of opening it through my augs, closing the update prompt, then opening the downloader that downloaded the next update and shutting that down manually. Still faster than looking at a single video ad. The news this morning was the usual. Political scandals, corporate scandals, celebrity drama. I watched a video of a cat pushing a brick off the side of a building where it landed on some pedestrian''s head. I''d seen that same video ten years ago, but the damned thing was reposted like clockwork. Some of the reposts were older than me, posted over and over again by attention-farming bots. I was ten minutes into the mindless scrolling when I passed some news about a few Brazilian samurai who''d blown up some statue or something that had been turned into a nest. They''d replaced it but the locals weren''t happy with the new one. My attention wandered to the corner of my vision. I had the time displayed up there, and under that, Myalis was keeping my point tally up. "Holy fuck!" I bounced out of the bed, suddenly on my feet as a shock of adrenaline zipped through me. I was expecting this reaction, and yet it''s still amusing to see. "Myalis, what the fuck?" I asked. I had forty thousand points banked. Forty-K and change, but at that number the chump change didn''t matter as much. The earnings are from the Big Gun''s shots taken over night. In the last ten hours the gun has fired eleven times. I can get you a full breakdown of the points earned, but for the most part it comes from killing a small number of higher-tier antithesis. The value was, of course, split unevenly amongst the Vanguard participating in the project, with major deductions for the distance between said Vanguard and the actual successful eliminations. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. "That''s a ridiculous number of points, still." I said. It''s what you earned. I scratched my neck. "What I earned my ass," I muttered. I''d sweat blood and tears to make a tenth as many points before. And now I''d earned this many while sleeping. Is this how rich people felt? Fuck, the game really was rigged. "Cat? What''s going on?" Lucy asked. "Huh, oh, sorry I didn''t mean to wake you," I said. "You can go back to sleep." Lucy yawned wide. "What''s wrong?" "Technically, nothing." "Technically?" she repeated. She was fully awake now. Though she was still hugging her drool pillow. How often were we supposed to change bed sheets and pillowcases and shit like that? Once a month or so? "The Big Gun''s been firing all night, and since I helped build a bit of it, I''m... I guess entitled to a percent of the points it makes killing aliens," I said as I sat back down on the edge of the bed. "And I just woke up to a fuckload more points than I had last night." "Oh... isn''t that a good thing?" "I guess? Yeah, I mean, it''s definitely a good thing. No doubt about it." I shrugged. "I just don''t know what to do with all that. It''s too much." "Aww, you don''t need to feel pressured to spend it," Lucy said. "You can earmark a chunk as savings, and then pour the rest into your projects?" "My projects?" I asked. "Well, you''ve been spending less time on your new mechanics hobby. Maybe you can buy a garage that''s got better tools and such. There''s the printer, it''s really good, but I think it''s maybe too slow for everything we''re loading it with. I think we wanted to make the house safer too?" "Right," I said. She wasn''t wrong. "And my gear could use an upgrade overall," I muttered. Do keep in mind that your current windfall won''t last forever. Once Phobos is eliminated the current influx of points will stop. Right, that was another good point. I hadn''t checked on the status of the moon. For all I knew the thing was riddled with holes and all the big aliens on it were long dead. I kinda doubted it, but it wasn''t impossible. "Urgh, I think I have a shift watching over the Big Gun. I can''t remember when it was, but I think I''m supposed to show up around noon." Lucy shifted in bed, then stretched. The blankets slid down, exposing some of her stomach that wasn''t covered by her silky PJs. "That''s hours away, you know?" "Uh-huh," I said. "I''m sure I could tempt you to spend that time well," she said. "Uh-huh." "By eating a proper breakfast for once." Lucy kipped up, or tried, she ended up mostly flopping around very unsexily until she rolled off the far end of the bed. "I wanna make this egg recipe I saw last night! Eggs benedict! They look really good." I pouted, but I was rather hungry. "Urgh, fine," I said. Lucy laughed at my plight, at least until I ran up behind her and caught her by the hips. Her laugh turned into a squeal, but she wasn''t leaving this room before I had time to kiss her silly. A few minutes later, Lucy was off to try some more experimental stuff in the kitchen and I hopped into the shower. "Myalis," I said as I rubbed shampoo over my scalp under a sheet of warm water. Yes, Catherine? "I need a few good ideas on what to spend those points on. I''m thinking it''s time for a few upgrades. Not physical stuff, though." The skin change had been pretty big already, and the new hair too. Anything more was probably pushing it for the moment. I''m certain I can think of a few options. You might want to revisit your catalogue list. They''re generally an expensive but worthwhile long-term investment. "Because I can buy more kinds of shit with them?" I asked. I wouldn''t use such faecal terminology, but essentially, yes. They widen the breadth of items you can purchase. That only makes you more capable and flexible, and overlapping catalogues do reduce the cost of some items. That was an idea. I had a few of those tokens sitting around too. Maybe dipping into the higher tier catalogues wasn''t a bad move either. "Alright," I said as I shut the shower off. "Yeah. I think that I can work with that. List away, Myalis." *** Glossary: Model Twelve Glossary: Model Twelve Model Twelve?

Addendum M12-1: Field Incident Report Date: [Redacted] Details: An engagement involving Model Twelve resulted in temporary disorientation and communication breakdown among ground forces, directly contributing to a tactical withdrawal. The incident highlights the need for improved ECM training and the deployment of counter-ECM equipment in field units. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Our troops were trained in high-communications environments. They are not prepared or equipped for situations where strat-com is offline.

Addendum M12-2: Known colloquially among troops as: - Buzzers - Flying Fortress - Blackout Bee - ECM Hornet - Bumbles

Addendum M12-6: Environmental Impact Study A preliminary environmental impact study has been initiated to assess the ecological effects of the electromagnetic emissions from Model Twelve. Concerns have been raised about the potential disruption to wildlife, particularly migratory birds and marine life sensitive to electromagnetic fields. The study aims to determine the extent of these impacts and develop strategies to mitigate adverse effects on local ecosystems. Chapter Fifty-Two - Fingerguns Chapter Fifty-Two - Fingerguns "A Joytoy is a member of the lower to middle class who participates in the personal entertainment industry. They provide companionship and sexual gratification to playing clients. The modern Joytoy is often equipped with a range of cybernetic enhancements for their personal protection (C-IUDs, Bloodcheckers, STI-removal Biogear, ect) as well as personal enhancements to better serve their customers." --Commodification and U - A Guide to Bringing Joy and Earning Credits, 2047 *** "How many tokens do I have?" I asked. Somehow I ended up sitting on the edge of the bed again. Sure, I''d slept a good bit, but I was still a little tired, and standing around while talking to Myalis was always kind of awkward. She was something of a voice in my head. There wasn''t any way to interact with her directly, not like when talking to a person face-to-face, and even on a call with someone, I''d at least have a phone in hand, or a screen open on my augs. With Myalis I had neither. Most of the time that was fine. It wasn''t like I needed to see her or whatever. But it did make things a little awkward when I wasn''t moving around or doing anything. You currently have four tokens saved up. I nodded along. That sounded about right. I didn''t track those nearly as closely as I did my points, and even my points were... mostly being accumulated off to the side now. "Four tokens, huh? So that''s four class two catalogues? How much does class three cost?" A class three catalogue would cost you three tokens. You could afford a single one at the moment. Speaking plainly, you have the choice between widening your spread of abilities and owned catalogues, or pushing one of your current catalogues up a tier which would help you hyper-specialise in one area. I nodded along. "Yeah, I get that," I said. "So, oh wise Myalis of my brain, what do you recommend?" I see three options before you. The first is as I mentioned, spend some number of points unlocking a number of new catalogues, then push these up a class with your current tokens. This option would widen the breadth of abilities and items at your disposal. "Go on," I said. The next two options are similar to each other. Either focus on your Esoteric weapons specialisation, or on your Sunwatcher Technologies, elevating either to class three. At that level, both options would give you incredible abilities when it comes to handling higher-tier threats. "How high are we talking, here?" I asked. The correlation isn''t exact. "What''s that mean?" I asked as I leaned back. Most Antithesis you''re likely to see within your lifespan can be defeated with equipment purchased from class one catalogues. The greater the class of the catalogue, the further from humanity''s technological base the items are, but that does not mean that near-human technology cannot defeat the enemy. "Right, okay," I said. It was like... anyone could die by being shot by a shitty handgun. Some things made that harder, body armour and the like, but that didn''t prevent that same gun from being dangerous. Higher classes of catalogues were like... upgrading from a dinky pistol to something bigger. It helped, but it didn''t mean that it was entirely necessary. "So, why those two catalogues? I mean, besides the fact that I''ve invested in both already." They''re both catalogues that fit your current preferences in terms of combat and lifestyle. Your Esoteric Explosives catalogue provides most of the equipment that has been allowing you to punch above your weight-class, and the Sunwatch Technologies catalogue has been providing you with most of your weaponry, armour, and other equipment. Right, so it was a three-way choice between going wide, going all-in on offence, or continuing with a pretty large set of very thematic equipment that covered a lot of bases. I flopped back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling for a bit. "Okay," I said. "I think... logically, Sunwatcher Technologies feels like the right choice. It''s got a lot of prosthetics, it''s got armour, it''s got weapons. My mech''s mostly from there, yeah? So if I wanna upgrade that, then it''s the way to go." Indeed. "But!" I said. "But... that''s not what would be the most useful right now." That went to the Esoteric Explosives catalogue, hands down. Explosives were what we were chucking at Phobos from the Big gun, and I''d left a dozen rounds behind of a few different flavours to see what worked. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. A higher class of that catalogue would mean more bombs and more variety, it would also probably mean a lot more oomph. We needed all the oomph we could get at the moment. "Shit... I think the right call is getting Esoteric Explosives up. It''s the right call for the short term, at least." There would definitely still be longer term benefits to such a thing. For one, you would have greater access to esoteric ammunition for even your simplest projectile weapons. "Right," I said. It wasn''t like it would be a loss. It was just that the Sunwatcher Technologies catalogue would probably kick more ass in the long run. Don''t forget that the number of tokens you have will only increase over time. The destruction of Phobos will certainly contribute. That was also true. I''d have one token left over if I bought the next class up for Esoteric Explosives. So I''d only be missing two more to bring Sunwatcher Technologies to par. I''d probably get at least one from Phobos, that much Myalis had confirmed, so I''d at most be missing one more token. That couldn''t be too hard to pick up, right? "Yeah, alright," I said. "Grab me that Esoteric Explosives catalogue, the next class up." To be clear, the cost isn''t limited to a number of tokens. The next class up is rather expensive. "It can''t be that bad, can it?" I asked. Sixteen Thousand points. I choked. "Holy fuck. How much... how much would the class four cost?" I asked. Ten times as much. A hundred and sixty thousand points. "Shit," I said. That wasn''t breaking the bank or anything, but that was damned close to half my points gone, just for the ability to buy more stuff. "Damn. Is it worth it?" I''d say so, yes. The increase in your potency will be considerable. And speaking plainly, banking points as you have serves little purpose. You gain nothing from having a large number of points left unspent. There''s utility in being able to purchase what you might need when you need it in the future, but those aren''t considered properly weighted purchases. I sat up, then let out a long huff of a breath. "Yeah, okay," I said. You''ll make the purchase? "I will," I said. "Just... do it quick, like ripping off a bandaid." New Purchase: Class III Esoteric Explosives Points Reduced to... 26,740 I chewed on my lip, but refrained from wincing. That was... still a lot of points. I was still fine. Now, about additional upgrades... "Urgh," I said. "No, I think I''ve spent myself out for the day," I said. Very well, it''s as you wish. I''ll nag you again once there''s more of a pressing need for new equipment. "Nag?" I asked. Do you need the word defined? "No, I know what it means, I''m just impressed that you''d just... right out and state it. It''s not exactly subtle." I don''t need to be subtle with you. It''s one of the reasons I bothered to insert myself in your head, Catherine. You''re refreshingly blunt and idiotic in just the way I like. "Uh... thanks?" Anytime... Just to be clear, I am currently making finger guns. "With what hands?" I asked. I am not at liberty to say. Why did the super-smart alien AI in my head have to be such a shit? Couldn''t I have a nice, polite, and reasonable one? Atyacus seemed fine. Very gentlemanly and polite. Sure he liked burning things, but that was all. I could live with a bit of pyromania. It was better than feline...omania. Lucy walked into the room, apron on and spatula in hand. "Breakfast is ready!" she said. "Oh, good," I said. A distraction. "What was it you made?" "Bacon and scrambled eggs." "Weren''t you going to make some other sort of fancy egg?" I asked. "Cat... for the sake of our relationship, can you please pretend that I intended to make scrambled eggs this entire time?" She batted her eyelashes at me sweetly. "Sure," I said. No one could accuse me of not taking a hint or being a bad girlfriend. "Let''s see about those eggs of yours." "Oh my," she said. I rolled my eyes, but followed her all the same. I was just surrounded by people that thought they were funny, wasn''t I? But hey, it wasn''t all that bad. Myalis was providing me with some cool shit, and I entered the kitchen to find a plate with eggs and bacon and... "Bargain, get the fuck away from my breakfast!" I snapped as I caught the brat red-handed. *** Chapter Fifty-Three - Egg Shells Chapter Fifty-Three - Egg Shells "Media literacy is only necessary when you can''t trust the media you consume." -Very True Social, Failed Slogan, 2038 *** I was just about done with breakfast when I decided to pop open the group chat for the Big Gun. Someone had added a new channel to the chat, which caught my eye right away. It was otherwise pretty calm, at least compared to the last couple of days where we were rushing to get everything ready. Hedgehog had been updating the main chat all night long with a rather formal list. He''d spell out what kind of shell was loaded into the Big Gun and when, then a few minutes later the shell''s impact on Phobos in terms of points he''d earned. Hedgehog: 23:14 High Impact Explosive Shell Hedgehog: 24:10 Points gained: 1045 Hedgehog: 24:15 PyroChemical MIRV Hedgehog: 01:08 Points gained: 820 The list went all through the night, more or less once an hour. The time between the shots and their impact on Phobos was very slowly decreasing by about one or two minutes after every shot, which was interesting to note. The points earned were all over the place. It seemed, at a glance, like anything that was more penetrative was worth a bit more. There was some additional commentary by Hedgehog about certain rounds. Mostly noting their effectiveness or lack thereof. One shell meant to blow up over the moon''s surface had barely made any points and he''d taken a lot of notes about why it was ineffective. Another MIRV shell had tagged a flight of smaller models as they were flying out to intercept some of the Keiretsu''s drones and Hedgehog noted that we''d earned a lot more points than we would have otherwise. Anyway, that chat was interesting to look over. If I had more of an analytical mind, I might be able to come to some smart conclusion from looking at it, but I figured I''d leave that to the others. I left a note mentioning how I bought a third-tier catalogue to give us access to more oomph, and Grasshopper immediately replied with a... gif of a chibi version of herself pressing a gold star onto a cartoon cat''s forehead? Did she have a ''silly gifs'' catalogue or was her AI just as childish as she was? Actually, I didn''t want to know. The new chat, once I clicked it open, had me sitting up straighter. "Fuck," I muttered. Lucy''s head whipped around. "What''s wrong?" she asked. "Did I leave some eggshell in? I was sure I picked all the bits out." "Wait... was that the crunchy bit? I thought it was pepper?" "Oh... never you mind then," Lucy said. "What''s the fuck about?" I frowned, but decided not to pursue. Eggshell couldn''t be all bad, right? Probably had protein or something. "There''s a new group chat going on, for the samurai in the Big Gun project. Looks like the media has shown up." "Weren''t you guys being all subtle?" Lucy asked. "Yeah, that''s why I''m pissed," I said. I stood up, then sighed. "Gros Baton is taking care of them, apparently. They''re not at the site, at least, so we have that much going for us." "If they''re not at the site, then where are they?" Lucy asked. "Saint-J¨¦rome," I said. "But they''re asking pointed questions and Gros Baton said that he can only play the ''I don''t speak English'' card for so long. I don''t think he''s gotten used to being a samurai enough to tell the media to fuck off." "Aww, he needs big sister Cat to save him!" Lucy said. I rolled my eyes. I wasn''t going to save him. I was going to make sure he didn''t make a mess of things. If that happened to keep him out of trouble, that was entirely a happy side-effect. "Whatever," I said before walked over to Lucy. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her smiling face closer. "Gimme a kiss for the road?" I ended up with enough kisses for the road there and back. Getting on my bike a few minutes later, I kicked off and flew out of our home and aimed northwards. I had to stifle a yawn. Something about a heavy breakfast made me feel sleepy, even though I''d definitely gotten enough sleep that it shouldn''t have been an issue. I kicked on the auto-pilot as soon as I was on the edge of New Montreal so that I could focus on texting. That was probably breaking some law, actually... You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Stray Cat: I''m on my way to SJ Stray Cat: Keep your head on GB Gros Baton: Hurry, tbrnk. These reporters are like dogs Stray Cat: Where in SJ are you? The kid gave me some vague directions. The media had mostly shown up near that big camp on the southern end of the city. They''d have been easy to ignore since they were keeping away from the military camp on the northern end of the city, but Gros Baton had discovered them asking a lot of questions and then he''d poked his nose into things. Now they were on him like street dogs on an injured kitten. They smelled blood and were hungry for a bite. I grumbled as I retook control of the bike and pushed the throttle down a little more. I didn''t actually intend to save the kid when I left, but it looked like he might actually need it. And to think that I was aiming for the hardest part of the day being the bit where I picked out what to shoot at the aliens next. Saint-J¨¦rome appeared out over the horizon and I zipped towards it then circled around the southern end of the city. There were a few balloons hovering over the walls with flak guns mounted to their sides to take out any flying models, and it looked like some of Major Tinwhistle''s engineers were slowly working to refurbish the barriers that had fallen apart. A lot more of the city was alive now than when we''d first arrived here. More lights were on, more people out on the streets. It looked like cars were still forbidden except for some buses moving around, so people were taking to walking and biking around. A few armoured cars and lighter tanks sat on the busier intersections with soldiers milling around them. Probably rapid response teams, in case a civilian discovered some alien that needed killing. All that was well and good, but it didn''t mean that things were back to anything like normal. The massive camp on the south end of the city seemed to still be full. Maybe not to bursting, but it looked like half the city''s population was there. "Hey, Myalis, do you have a good idea of where the kid is?" I asked. One moment... yes, his AI has confirmed his location after asking for his permission to disseminate the information. He is next to the hardware store. Marking the location now. The hardware store? That turned out to be a larger building pretty much right under me. The front was opened up and it looked like some tents and such extended all the way inside. Judging by the number of brand-new barbecues being used outside, the place had been turned into more camp space. Next to it was a parking lot that was currently occupied by a half dozen news vans, including a few that looked like they could fly on down to where they were parked. I even recognized some of the logos. The New Montreal Gazette, La/The Presse/Press, The Journal of New Montreal. Then there were the newer ones. NMN, CBC2, Shoot Star. That was a pretty big chunk of the local media pie represented down there, and it looked like they''d deployed the attack journalists on Gros Baton. The kid was... not quite pinned against the wall of the hardware store, but he certainly had it to his back and looked like he couldn''t make an easy getaway. I spun my bike around and brought it down. Journalists and camera dudes leapt away not to be squished beneath me. A few had their perfect hair mussed up by the wash of the bike''s thrusters, but I did make sure that I wasn''t actually going to land on anyone. "Hey, what the hell?" one guy asked, which... was fair. He choked on his words as I unsaddled the bike, then tugged my coat on straight. "Sorry," I said without feeling it. "Just need to squeeze on past..." I blinked as the media types formed ranks and I suddenly found myself next to Gros Baton while they cut us both off from my bike. I decided not to be too concerned. The worse they could do was make me look bad. "Hey," I said to the kid. "You good?" "Ca va," he replied, but his smile was a little shaky. "Can we, ah, get the fuck out?" I grinned. "Sure, but maybe you can let me answer a question or two?" Just because they could make me look bad didn''t mean I wanted them too, and maybe tossing them a bone would keep these dogs calm for a bit. *** Chapter Fifty-Four - Burned/Scarred/Butch, Scary, and Notorious Chapter Fifty-Four - Burned/Scarred/Butch, Scary, and Notorious "As with most careers, the modern journalist has their own codified look. Journo fashion is usually marked by plate carriers and bulletproof vests, often in bright, faction-neutral colours. Occasionally a journo will be wearing a flak helmet as well, oftentimes with several electronic upgrades attached to it to allow them to capture the world around them in high fidelity. The modern microphone, with sound dampening, vocal-tuned pick ups, and at-range-listening is another must-have for any fashionable journalist." --Fashion Careers, 2049 *** "You good?" I muttered once I was right next to Gros Baton. The kid nodded once, his face set and serious, brows drawn into a scowl. "J''pense que ?a va. Mais ces journalistes-l¨¤ n''arr¨ºtent pas de me harceler." I think I''m alright. These journalists won''t stop hounding me, though. He gestured to the journalists who were kind of crowding us in. I was pretty sure I could beat a path to my bike with no problem. I only saw a few guns in the lot. Plenty more body-armour though. Plate-carriers were the order of the day, and a few of them had army-style helmets repainted with the logo of their stations on the sides. Not all, mind, a lot of them were trying to look friendly and personable, all corpo-smiles and artificially friendly faces. There were two ways out of here, I figured. That mostly came from the limited experience I had seeing celebrities and samurai dealing with the media, so it was all third or fourth hand experience. Still, I''d seen some meme-able fuckups and knew what not to do. Don''t insult the journos... unless I was really hot, funny, or popular. Don''t repeat ''no comment'' endlessly, it only pisses them off... unless I was hot about it, or funny, or popular. Don''t get too defensive, don''t ramble, and don''t assume the mic is off. Unless I could be hot or funny with it. Fuck, being hot, funny, and popular was one hell of a leg up, but I wasn''t any of those three so I''d have to be sensible. So, two solutions. Drag Gros Baton out of here as quick as I could, fast enough not to piss this lot off, or... the other solution. "Alright, you fucks," I said before waving them down. Somehow that actually shut some of them up. "You get one question per network." They all started at once. "Oi! Shut the fuck up!" I snapped. Wait, was that insulting? Fuck me I wasn''t good at following my own advice, was I? "One per network. I''ll know if you''re being a dick about it. Don''t test me. You! Yeah, you, the gormless guy with the baldspot. Yeah, I can see it, question, now." Screw it, I was gonna handle this bunch like I would unruly kids and I''d hope for the best. "Uh, Kai Voss, for Apoca-Lips," he said before pointing a small microphone my way. "Uh, can you let us know about your relationship with the samurai next to you?" "Gros Baton?" I asked. "He''s nice enough." I shrugged with a shoulder. "Next. You, with the blue and yellow hair." Dude had a logo with the same colours on his chest. "Ridge Byte with the Flossing Network, can you tell us about your dental routine?" I blinked. "I don''t brush and I sure as shit don''t floss. Teeth are luxury bones and I''m rich as fuck. You, the hot one with the rainbows. Also, you single?" The girl blushed prettily. "Ah, hello, Violet Shade, from PRSM, the LBGT-QWERTY Tech network... I''m not single?" "Yeah, I''m not either," I admitted. "Thank you?" she tried. "S-speaking of relationships, miss, what''s your current status and if I may, what''s your stance on two-spirit, lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, questioning, intersex, asexual plus issues?" "I''m very not single and happy about it, and I don''t care who or what people fuck as long as it''s not with me," I said. I pointed to the next guy. "Avery Covert, Top Secret News," he said. "What are the samurai around here doing? Initially, there was a push to protect this area, but for the last two days, sightings have decreased substantially, and there''s clear signs of some sort of cover-up." I paused for a moment. Dude was getting to the heart of it, wasn''t he? Lie? Dismiss it? I shrugged and did as I would with the kittens. "You''re right," I said. "There''s some shit going on, and I can''t tell you about it because we''re doing a big cover up of the whole situation. I wish I could tell you, but I really don''t want to and you''re just gonna have to live with that. If it helps any, we''re saving the world, probably." Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. I pointed to the next chump. "Wendy Gale, Canada-Wide Weather, what are your opinions on modern climate change?" "I''m a Canadian girl who''s only seen snow in movies and TV, but it always looks like it''d be a pain in the ass to handle, so I really don''t care," I said. "You, with the army getup." "Charlie Foxtrot from MNN," the man said. He was standing tall and serious, looking like a posterboy for the army. "You''ve been working with the armed forces for some time now around this area, what do you have to say about your experiences so far?" "It''s been good," I said. "Lots of professional sorts. Shout out to Major Tinwhistle, Lieutenants Moreau and Juno, and the Brigadier General. They''re real accommodating and don''t fuck around, which is really something I can appreciate. I''ve discovered that I really love artillery too." He nodded seriously, but seemed happy with the answer. I pointed to some hippy-looking chick next to him. "Holly Woods, Nature and Entertainment. Why did you set a lake on fire?" "Shit was fucked," I said. "The lake was some corpo''s chemical dumping ground for super pesticides that cause super cancer or something. They didn''t work because the aliens thrived in that shit, so Gomorrah did as she does and now the lake''s on fire." I raised a hand. "Myalis, can you send her an infodump on the fuckers?" Consider it sent... because it is. Holly seemed happy enough with that judging by her winning smile. "You," I said, pointing to the next guy. We were... maybe halfway though, but I wasn''t going to stand around here all day, not when I could see more media-types rushing over. "Word, Buzz, of Politycon. Are you planning to murder any more politicians?" "Only if they don''t keep to their lane," I said. "You?" "Penelope Scope, The New Montreal Celebrity Investigators. We''ve noticed that you have a few cat-like body enhancements and have recently set up a charity-like program offering people low-priced prosthetics. Are cat ears going to become available as well? Maybe tails and claws?" "I wasn''t planning on offering anything like that," I said. "Would people even want that? No, don''t... don''t answer that. You, with the fancy tech hair." I pointed to a chick with a fro made of green and blue tech hair. "Wanda Lust of the Globe Travellers News Association, have you considered roaming outside of the New Montreal area?" "Uh, not really, but I have been making friends in other countries lately, so who knows? Maybe I''ll fly over to say hi one of these days? I''m sure shit''s worse in some places than it is here and they might need a hand." I pointed to one last guy. He seemed smartly dressed, more of a classic journo than the rest. He nodded in thanks and adjusted a pair of aug-glasses. "Benjamin Lebeau from CNMN. My... peers here have brought up a number of questions, but I really wanted to know where you stand with regards to improving New Montreal. You shot the mayor, causing a great deal of political turmoil in a time where such is unwelcome, but you''ve also visibly put a lot of effort into the reconstruction and repair of the New Montreal sewer system." "Uh, sorry, Ben, but where''s the question?" I asked. "Forgive me. The question is; what are your policies and do you aim to improve the city, if so, how?" he said. I had to take a moment to unpack that, but no more than a moment. To these kinds of jackals, a long pause would only give them fuel to call me slow-witted and stupid. At least, it would be enough for the kittens. "Right," I said to fill the air a little. "Look, I''m from New Montreal. Born there... more or less raised there. It''s home, and it''s never not been shit. The air stinks, the people are cunts and it''s a giant festering shithole. I don''t think I can change that. I''m just one girl, samurai or no. But I''ve got some friends, like this little brat here, and others, and we''re willing to claw and shoot and fuck shit up to keep the city going. I guess that''s my policy. I''ll fix what I see as broken enough to bother fixing. Don''t expect me to turn the place into a utopia, if you want that you''ll need to do your share too." "Thank you," Benjamin said. "Yeah. Okay, that''s enough, we need to get back to work. Talking to you bunch won''t get the aliens any more dead. Yeah yeah, I don''t care, move it. Move it! For fuck''s sake." *** Chapter Fifty-Five - Cutting To The Heart of The Moon Chapter Fifty-Five - Cutting To The Heart of The Moon "Are they hiding something from you? Top Secret News says... yes! Exclusive street-side interview with two samurai reveals hidden truth! A Conspiracy is at play! Subscribe now!" --Top Secret News, 2057 *** "Hey, thanks, eh? You saved my ass back there," Gros Baton said. "Yeah yeah, just don''t get too comfy about it," I grumbled. I didn''t mind the kid. He was polite enough. Hell, he was just a good bloke as far as I could tell. He tried, at least, and that was more than I could say about a disconcertingly large portion of the population. My only problem with him right now was that he had his arms wrapped around my waist. I didn''t have any issues with Rac holding onto me. She was a kid, and a girl, so it was fine, but I was getting all sorts of squicked out by this guy. I mean, it was objectively stupid. I was wearing several layers of armour. None of his disgusting boy germs were gonna escape his hairy arms and get to me, but it was still uncomfortable. Fortunately, we didn''t have to fly far. I shot across Saint-J¨¦rome, then down to use some of the taller buildings to cut our line of sight from the media sorts we''d left behind. Then I gunned it, rushing out of the city at an angle and slowly curving around westward until I was aiming more or less towards where the Big Gun was. A few minutes later we were being scanned by a dozen AA positions that looked ready to tear us apart until something pinged us as friendly. I really needed to upgrade my bike to something that could take a few flak hits before the inevitable happened, but the inevitable wasn''t happening today, and I landed in the open space before the command structure a few dozen metres from the big Gun. "Alright, enough clinging to me, off, off," I said. "Yeah, yeah," Gros Baton said as he rolled off the side of the bike. "It wasn''t comfortable for me either. Didn''t know where to put my hands. Christ, you need ''andles or something." "Keep talking and I''m getting a sidecar," I said. "That sounds kinda fun?" he said. "I was thinking I''d get something too, ya know? Une genre de skidoo qui peut voler ou ben quelque chose d''m¨ºme?" I wasn''t sure what he was saying there, but I kinda got the mental image from his gesturing. "Uh-huh. Just make sure it''s got a good auto-pilot. Real lifesaver that shit." "''Kay," he said with a nod. I checked the time on my augs. I was only twenty-minutes late to the start of my shift, which really didn''t explain the ''why did you shit on my bed'' look Hedgehog was giving me as I got closer to the command centre and he stomped out. "You finally decided to show up?" he asked. "Yeah," I agreed. "Had to save the kid from the big bad journalists. I think I''ve given them enough to talk about that they''ll leave us alone for a minute." He sniffed. "There''s no such thing. They''re insatiable." "Well shit, I was hoping some of them would at least be a little distracted," I said. "So, how''s the gun?" He uncrossed his arms and shook his head. "It''s doing well enough, but we''re short on ammunition." "Can''t you buy some?" I asked. "Tankette has been supplying us, but her ammunition is mostly... standard. Her armour-piercing shells have had the best effect so far, but they''re not nearly as efficient as some of the more... creative ammunition you left behind." Hedgehog started walking towards the little room at the back of the gun, the one I''d loaded the shells in last time. "Are we out of creative things to shoot, then?" I asked. "I can buy more. Hell, I can buy a lot more, I upgraded my catalogues for just this occasion." "Good, good," he said. "Phobos has been pounded all night." "That makes one of us," I said. Gros Baton choked, then started to laugh until Hedgehog turned and gave us both the stink-eye. "We''re talking about the end of the world here. Some level of seriousness would be appreciated." "Sorry," I said. "Go on?" "The Tesla Collider has fired twice more, both times dealing some substantial damage. And at the moment there is a constant swarm of smaller Keiretsu drones harassing the... we''re calling them point-defence models. Smaller space-capable models that can fly around Phobos and who are harming our targeting and attacking any drones." Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. "Damn, alright. And our shots? What''s the damage?" "Moderate at best," he said, which was... not something I was keen on hearing, to be honest. "Can you give me something more... tangible? I don''t know, a percentage? An HP pool? A nice round number my small pitiful brain can wrap itself around?" Hedgehog paused for a moment, then nodded. "We''d managed to successfully detach seven percent of the moon''s mass from the surface." "That''s nothing," I said. He made a so-so gesture. "It''s more than you''d think? That''s several hundred thousand tons of mass. But in order to eliminate the danger that Phobos poses, we''d need to reduce its mass to something like a hundredth of its original mass. If Phobos hits Earth as scattered debris, we''ll have won." Right, right, that sounded decent. "So we''re more than seven percent of the way to victory?" "If you put it that way, we''re closer to twenty?" he said. "My AI suggests that it''s not a very precise way of looking at things." "No, that''s fine. I just need something ballpark-ish to wrap my head around the whole thing." We arrived at the command room and Hedgehog gestured for us to go in first, so I did. It was just as cramped in there as I remembered. I instantly quieted down when I noticed Tankette on one of the seats. She was holding a large, quilted-looking blanket close, and had her head leaning to the side against one of the consoles. Someone had snuck a pillow under her, and judging by the little hedgehog pattern on its cover, I had a good guess as to whom. "She''s... a very heavy sleeper," Hedgehog said, but he was keeping his voice lower too. "Uh-huh," I replied. "So... what worked?" He frowned, and I had the impression he''d pulled something up in his Augs. "The most successful round so far was the deployable monofilament bomb." "Really?" I asked. Hedgehog seemed to take offence at the question. He turned towards the consoles behind him and tapped a few buttons. At least he seemed familiar with the Big Gun''s controls now. A few moments later one of the big screens lit up. It was a visual of a projectile moving across a plotter. The usual thing now for visualising one of our shells zipping out towards Phobos. Then it cut to what had to be a sensor drone''s point of view. The time code on the bottom of the screen slowed down, so we were seeing things one fraction of a second at a time instead of replaying things in real time. The camera caught sight of the shell and started to zoom in, only for the shell to unfold and break apart. The casing flew off into the void of space, but what it revealed looked like... "Kinda butt-plugish, huh?" I asked. Hedgehog sighed. The... I was gonna call it a dart for now, was spinning through space at what was probably a ridiculous speed even as six smaller darts flew out of it. Then it crashed into a rocky outcropping on the edge of Phobos, a sort of mountain that took the impact with barely a puff of dust rising from where the dart hit. At least, at first. The camera zoomed out, then zoomed right back in as a slice of that mountain shifted. It was a perfect cut, being pulled downwards slowly before it gained momentum and started a small avalanche. It became clear that the dart had basically six long slices right out of the mountain, and they were all moving now that they were separate. "It''s hit or miss," Hedgehog said. "The cuts go deep, but just because something is cut doesn''t mean it''ll detach itself." "Right," I said. Tons of stone like that didn''t just move away so easily. "But the damage is good, otherwise?" "In combination with the Tesla collider? It''s significant. It seriously weakens the moon''s structural integrity, and the monofilament wires can stretch out for hundreds of metres. It''s the widest-range weapon at our disposal right now." I nodded along. That made sense. It was small as hell, so it was easy to pack a ton into a single shell. "Not bad," I said. "But let''s see if we can''t try something else, huh? I got my hands on a new catalogue and I need to test out what sort of trouble I can get up to with it." Tankette snored in approval. *** Chapter Fifty-Six - Le Bad Suck Chapter Fifty-Six - Le Bad Suck "I see you, I feel you. You thought I was dead? You wish I was. But you forgot that I''m It. I will fuck you up in ways that no one''s ever fucked someone up before. They will invent words to describe what I''m going to do. I will turn your corporation into statistics. I am a broken mirror and my shards are in your throat. I''m going to tear your reflection out of your spine... bitch." --Mad Vlad to Calliope Corp CEO before their bankruptcy, 2045 *** "Alright," I muttered just low enough not to wake Tankette up. "Myalis, what have you got for me? Keep them under... call it one thousand points a shell? We need to fire a fuckload of these." Certainly. Are we still going for variety first? I considered it, then realized that I had two others to do the thinking for me. "Hedge, do we go for variety or just lots of what we think might work?" He frowned, then nodded slowly. "Variety. But please don''t grab anything wasteful. We only have a few dozen more shots to make this count. We can try new things--and we''re probably better off varying the kinds of damage we deal--but we can''t afford to waste effort and shots." "Got it," I said. "Heard that, Myalis?" I did. Let''s start then! First, might I suggest something simple to whet the appetite? "Go on." Was she trying to sound like a fancy server on purpose? Actually, scratch that, she definitely was. The first is a Scrambler bomb. This one detonates and creates a field around itself that shifts items around. It''s not quite random, but it might as well be. The Scrambler will remain active for a relatively long time after deployment and will continuously move atoms away from their current location and to a random one nearby. "And that does... what to a person?" It scrambles them, Catherine. That kills people. "Oh," I said. "How big of an AOE are we talking here?" "AOE?" Gros Baton asked, but it was aimed at Hedgehog. The man started to explain about video game terms like Area of Effect and how they ended up co-opted by the military. The area of effect begins at a kilometre across, give or take a few bus-lengths. Then it shortens over time with the incident of atomic re-materialization increasing exponentially. I must add that this creates a lot of radiation, both as heat and across the radioactive spectrum. "Fuck it, we won''t have to deal with that, the aliens will. Add one of those to the shopping cart," I said. "Next?" Next... an Electron Suppression bomb would have some interesting effects on the Phobos object. It would give all protons in a large area a negative charge. "I don''t know enough about physics to tell what that would do, but I can imagine it would be bad. Add it!" Fantastic. A riff on a bomb that you''ve purchased before as a grenade might be interesting; the Full Stop is a device covered by a nearly unbreakable shell. Once activated, it stops moving. "Why would a device that can''t move be good?" I asked. You misunderstand. It cannot be moved. It is spatially locked. I shrugged. "What would happen to Phobos if it runs into a spatially-locked indestructible thing?" Hedgehog perked up. "You should get that." "Alright, add it. Anything else?" Gluon bombs. I''d explain how changing the environment reacts to the Strong Nuclear Force could be destructive, but by the time you''d understand it, Phobos will have landed. "Fine, fine, add your glue bomb too." "That doesn''t sound as destructive," Hedgehog said. "I know, right?" I said. "Next?" Short-duration black holes? "Fuck yeah!" I said. "Nothing says ''fuck off'' like chucking a black hole at someone." "That sounds good, yeah," Gros Baton said. "Give them le bad suck." Now I was second guessing myself. Did I want to be known as the samurai that gave the big mean moon le bad suck? The memes would be ruinous. On the other hand, footage of a small black hole opening up on the side of something the size of a moon and fucking it right up might do wonders in reminding people not to mess with me and mine. "Okay, add a couple of those to the cart," I said. "Anything else?" Keiretsu have been spending a lot of time combatting smaller models encircling the main body of the Phobos object. Perhaps something that would assist them? "More than smashing big bombs into the side of the moon?" I asked. Somewhat, yes. I''d suggest the Bee Bomb. It''s packed with a system that allows its interior to be larger than the volume expected from its exterior dimensions. The insides are filled with small self-powered drones. Several thousand of them. On deploying, these drones exit the bomb and dart out towards enemy targets at high velocities. They''re packed full of explosives. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. "Add it," I said with a nod. It might help our Keiretsu buddies, and it just sounded cool besides. "Is that it?" Of course not. So far we''ve only toyed with two of the fundamental forces. But if you want a capstone... perhaps a Cryogenic Anti-Thesis Stasis bomb? It''ll sap the heat from the area where it lands. The Antithesis generally requires some amount of heat to operate, and the other bombs you''d been using have been creating plenty. This might reverse that to some degree. I considered it for a moment before my eyes narrowed. "That spells out CATS," I said. A coincidence, I''m sure. I shook my head. "Alright, let''s get... two of each? That should hold us up until the end of our shift." Hedgehog, ever the helpful sort, moved to the back and opened up the access door into the shell storage compartment. There were two left, both loaded into their slots and ready to fire. New Purchases: Scrambler Bomb x2 Electron Suppression x2 Full Stop x2 Gluon x2 Black Hole Bomb x2 Bee Bomb x2 Cryogenic Anti-Thesis Stasis x2 Total Cost: 13,250 points Point total reduced to: 32,530 Fourteen shells appeared in the racks, each one slotting into place with a satisfying click-thunk. They were all slightly different, with shiny exteriors covered in burnished steel. "That''s half a day''s worth of shells," I said. "If we''re lucky, we won''t even need this many." "If we''re lucky," Hedgehog said. He glanced at his wrist, where an old-school watch was wrapped around his arm. "The Tesla collider should be firing within the next hour. We''ll shoot right after. And then my shift will be over. I''ll escort Miss... Tankette to bed." "How romantic," I said. "She''s not interested that way," he said. I blinked. Did that mean... he was? But Hedgehog had a poker face like a marble statue and didn''t give anything away. "Sleeping this way will give her a crick in the neck. You might be too young to understand, but once you hit thirty you''ll know that sleeping crooked is unacceptable." "I know what you mean, yeah. We used to get mil-surplus beds back at the orphanage," I said. "The mattresses were thinner than a slice of burger meat and you were lucky if you got one of those without springs. Knew one kid that died because of one of them." "How did he die to a mattress?" Gros Baton asked. "Tetanus," I said with a shrug. "Like, half the symptoms of that are shit you get from bad dieting, so it''s not like it''s easy to tell that he had something wrong going on, at least until it was too late." Hedgehog just stared at me for a moment. "That''s messed up." "Happens. Anyway, are we good here?" "We should be. Keep us updated on the group chat as things progress. And please make sure not to leave the site without at least one samurai present. Two is better," Hedgehog said. "The media is sniffing around, as proven by Gros Baton''s interaction with them earlier, and that''s not to mention the others liable to want what we have here. Any one of those shells would be worth millions to a corp." Don''t give the dubiously-moral corporation access to WMDs, got it. I padded over to Tankette''s side and touched her shoulder. "Hey, uh, Tankette, time to wake up?" I hesitated and almost called her ma''am, but that was too formal. ''Sweetie'' swung the bar all the way to the other side, and ''dear'' was right out because I wasn''t born in the 1800s. She blinked awake, then looked around herself with a start. "Oh my, did I fall asleep? Hedge, I''m so sor--" She cut herself off with a demure little yawn that she hid behind a hand. "Sorry... I guess I''m not fit for staying up all night anymore." "Been a while?" I asked. "I''ll have you know I used to be able to party from sundown to sunup." Somehow, trying to imagine Tankette as a party girl felt... inherently wrong. "Uh-huh." "How do you think I ended up with my first child?" "I really don''t want to know," I said. She laughed, then stretched her neck to the side. "Oh, I''m going to have a crick all week." "Best get you to a proper bed, then. Come on, Gros Baton and I will take over while you get your sleep on." *** Chapter Fifty-Seven - In Space No One Can Hear You Buzz Chapter Fifty-Seven - In Space No One Can Hear You Buzz "Top 8 best selling AUG games of 2057 1. Reality Runners [AR Collector Game] 2. The Family [Samurai Gacha] 3. Silly Starlight Symphony [Rythme Gacha] 4. Galaga 2 [Fixed Shooter Arcade] 5. Quantum Heist [Party Game] 6. Minecraft [Sandbox] 7. Verseforge [World Creator] 8. Catastrophe Clicker [Clicker Game] --Game News Networld, 2057 *** I thought being on watch would be boring, and I was mostly right. It did have a few highlights, though. A dinky little alarm clock went off a few minutes after Hedgehog carried Tankette away. It was one of those small red ones, with the two big bells on top of it, and the purely analogue clockface. I wasn''t even sure how to read the time on it, but I did figure out that smacking the little knob on the top shut it down. "Okay, I''m guessing that means it''s time to shoot something," I said. "?a l''air pas mal ?a." Gros Baton said. "What''re we shooting?" There was a whole menu with all of the loaded shells on it on one screen that he was flicking through, each option highlighted one after the other. "Good question," I said. "Uh. What''s the situation over around Phobos?" I eyed the consoles and realized that there were a lot of blank buttons. I pressed one at random, then some part of my less stupid brain realized that I''d just pressed a random button on a kilometre-long gun''s control station and that was probably a bad idea. Instead of pushing random buttons, how about you just let me handle things and leave the poor coolant control system alone? "Yup, sorry," I said as I drew my hands back from all the buttons. "Just... can we throw up Phobos'' status ATM on the big screen?" Certainly. I felt Gros Baton eyeing me, so I half turned to meet his gaze. That gave him the push he needed to ask me a question. He even bothered to ask it in his accented English. "Why do you talk to your AI, uh, out loud?" "You mean Myalis? How else am I supposed to talk to her? Text?" "Yeah," he said with a nod. "Oh. Well... isn''t that impersonal?" I asked. He shrugged. "I text my best friends all the time." "I mean, sure. I don''t know. I guess I could, but it feels more natural to talk to her out loud?" "You could whisper." "Do I look like the whispering sort?" He considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "Fair enough," he said. "Looks like the evil moon is busy, eh?" I squinted at the screen. He was pretty spot on there. Phobos was surrounded at the moment. Hundreds of little darting dots. It looked like... actually, it kinda looked like flashing a light into a super dark and dusty room. Lots of little particulate catching the light and swirling around. "What are those little things?" I asked. Mostly lower-tier models. It seems as though Phobos has launched several thousand model elevens and a number of model twelves. Model elevens? Those pterodactyl looking motherfuckers? That was pretty low on the food chain, all things considered. "Wait, they can fly in space?" "Why not, at this point?" Gros Baton said. I mean, sure, but while I might have been lacking any sort of proper education, I was pretty sure wings didn''t count for shit in zero-g and without any atmosphere. Then again, the antithesis seemed to have a knack for not giving a fuck. "Okay, whatever," I said. There were frequent flashes as Keiretsu drones sniped some of the models away with what looked like laser fire, but the models seemed to swarm around organically, and I saw one drone get taken out by a screen of them smashing into it. "Let''s load up one of those Bee Bombs," I said. "We can fuck up their screen, give the Keiretsu a chance to get their drones in closer." "?a m''semble bon," Gros Baton said as he took the second seat and started to fiddle with the targeting. I had no idea if he knew what he was doing, but I didn''t want to show that I was clueless so I left him at it. The ammo selector thing was pretty simple. A sort of menu with a flicky wheel next to it that I could roll to switch between ammo types. There was an entry for every kind of shell I''d bought with the number remaining next to it. I noted that there were a few HE shells that I hadn''t bought as well. Probably Tankette''s purchases. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I rolled the wheel until Bee Bomb was selected, then tapped the accept button next to it. Behind me, a mechanical arm moved up to the right shell, then loaded it into a sort of holster before moving it to the Big Gun''s breech. After that, all we needed to do was pick a target. Phobos was pre-selected, which was nice. "Time to target... two minutes? Shit, that''s not long," I said. The satellite thing with the other portal had been moving this entire time, and it was slowly getting closer to Phobos. That, and Phobos was slowly getting closer to us. I wasn''t exactly what anyone would call a math whizz, but I understood that the time between shooting and hitting being shorter meant that shit was getting closer together. I kinda dreaded looking at the final count-down between the meeting with Phobos and Earth. So, instead, I looked at the percentage we''d chipped off the moon. Eight. Eight percent. That was still a lot, but fuck me if that wasn''t nowhere near enough. A small pit formed in my stomach. Then Gros Baton grinned and pointed to the big red button. "J''peux-tu?" he asked. "Go ahead," I said. He flicked the little plastic shield up, then slammed a fist down onto the button. Good thing it was made tough. The usual hair-rising thing happened as the Big Gun fired, followed by the hiss of coolant working to keep the gun intact. "Myalis," I said once the noise died down a little. "Can you show me how to run diagnostics? I''d like to shoot more than once an hour. Even just ten minutes sooner every hour would be one more shell every six hour shift, right?" Ten times six is sixty, yes. I can help you with that. It should be possible, though it will increase wear slightly. Given the time constraints, the increased wear shouldn''t interfere with operations. "So we can keep shooting and shoot a little faster and shit won''t blow up in our faces? Yeah, I''m down for that." I reached up and rubbed at the spot where my cybernetic cat ears met my head. Gros Baton nodded, then pointed to the screen. The Bee Bomb was arriving. It looked like a streak across the monitor as it raced towards Phobos. We watched in glorious HD as the bomb exploded and sent a thousand pinpricks moving across the screen. They intercepted just as many model elevens in mid-flight, turning the birds into statistics. "Nice," I said as I leaned back. The keiretsu didn''t waste too much time. Some drones continued to mop up. More of them flew right into Phobos, slipping between the cracks which were soon illuminated by laser fire. I wasn''t sure what was going on in there, but I figured it wasn''t pleasurable for the aliens. I blinked as I got a notification from Myalis. It had me sitting up a little straighter. Targets Eliminated: Model Eleven - 278 Model Twelve - 41 Points earned: 31,900 Points distributed to Vanguard: 3,987 New point total: 46,517 Holy shit, that was a lot of points. "We''re eating good tonight," I said. I resisted the urge to rub my hands together. Didn''t need Myalis switching me from Cat shit to Racoon shit. That role was taken already. Gros Baton grinned. "I''mma buy the loudest skydoo," he said. "Yeah, you go bud." To be fair, though, that last bomb had targeted small, easy to eliminate models instead of the moon. It wasn''t actually helping directly except to farm points. That eight percent wasn''t moving so easily. But more points meant I could afford more shells, which was nice. I''d just filled my budget for the next day and a bit. The Tesla Collider was going to fire soon too, so that would hopefully leave us with a nice gap where we could fuck up Phobos before it would have time to recuperate. It was going ot take some time to fuck the moon up, and I was legit afraid that it would take more time than we had left. But hey, Keiretsu and the Nightwatchmen weren''t freaking out as far as I could tell, so that was probably a good sign. "Right... so uh, we''ve got another fifty or so minutes to wait, huh?" Gros Baton shrugged. "Ouien?" "Yeah... got any games on your augs?" *** Chapter Fifty-Eight - Knight Takes Moon Chapter Fifty-Eight - Knight Takes Moon "People still play chess? That game''s ancient! Why would anyone still want to play that?" --Live Streamer MonMonMan, 2034 *** The hours were crawling by, and if the fate of the entre world wasn''t at stake, and if I wasn''t making points hand over fist, I might have fucked off already to do something more entertaining. As it was, Gros Baton and I were in our sixth game of chess. The kid had bought a holographic chess set for like, three points or something. It hovered between us, the board currently a bit of a mess as our pieces were locked trying to contest the middle. He was winning, of course, but if he made about... six major mistakes in a row, there was a tiny chance that I''d make it through. His pieces looked like tiny mediaeval people. His knights looked like knights and his bishops like bishops. His pawns were teeny-tiny napoleonic soldiers with itty-bitty muskets. "Pawn to E5," he said, and one of his lil soldiers struck one of my knights with the fun end of his bayonet. My pieces were cats. My king and queen were lions, my knights were bobcats in platemail, my bishops were leopards with little pope-hats, and my towers were small towers with lazy tigers sleeping atop them. My pawns were plain old house cats. What few I had left. "Ah, fuck," I muttered. That move had opened up the middle, once that pawn of his died his queen would be right up in my king''s grill. And then my phone rang. Or the phone app on my Augs went off, at least. I jumped, and blinked at the names calling me. The Keiretsu and the Nightwatchmen calling me at the same time? I glanced up at the Phobos monitor before I hit reply. Gros Baton and I had smashed two more shells into the moon. An electron suppression bomb, which had done... something? It left a large hole bored through the moon and made the radiation sensors the Keiretsu have go absolutely haywire. And right after that, a black hole bomb. That one had been less impressive than I''d hoped. It went off before the moon and gave it the bad suck. Lots of dust and smaller debris was ripped off the surface of Phobos where the bomb went off. It looked like a good quarter of the moon had been power washed by the time the bomb went all supernova and blasted that end of the moon until it looked like something Lucy had started to cook and promptly forgot about. Pretty okay results, all in all. We were up to ten percent, which was a good sign, I figured. "Yo," I said as I answered the call. I made the universal ''I''m on a call'' gesture with thumb and pinkie so that Gros Baton would know that I wasn''t just surrendering. "Ah, Miss Stray Cat?" Doctor Weber said. "Good! It''s a pleasure to speak with you again. I heard that you were currently operating the Big Gun''s... Big Gun, and so I thought it would be a good time for a conference." "Yeah, sure," I said. "Sup? And uh, hi to you too Susan." "Greetings, Stray Cat," the calmer Japanese man said. "Your team has been doing impressive work." "Aww, thanks! Your drones are pretty kick-ass too," I said. I''d been seeing them coming in on the Phobos monitor. It looked like the Keiretsu had kicked up production pretty steadily, because the number of drones rushing over was increasing every hour. They were actually kinda neat? They looked like balls, mostly, with manoeuvring thrusters poking out all over the place and then whatever kind of gun or whatever they had stuck out of the end. Some of them were linked up to get to Phobos, often tied to a larger booster that would disconnect then fly on over to the moon where they blew up satisfyingly before the drones started to go around and do their own things. "Thank you," Susan said. "We didn''t call to trade compliments, however." "Indeed. The situation is more dire than we expected," Radikal said. "Our current projections suggest that Phobos will be within the red zone in forty-eight hours." "What''s the red zone?" I asked. "Beyond the obvious that it''s something we don''t want." "The red zone is what we''re calling the area of space where an unbroken Phobos will absolutely be able to annihilate life on Earth. Even if Phobos is rendered into pieces no bigger than a car, within the Red zone it would still kill us all." If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "Oh," I said. "And how close are we to the, uh, orange zone?" "We''re in it," Susan said. "Well, fuck," I said. I sat up a little straighter. "So, I''m assuming we have a solution to all of this?" "We do," Radikal said. "Continue as we have. The rate of demolition is somewhat exponential. The Keiretsu drones should be reaching the kind of critical numbers within the next twenty-four hours where they''ll theoretically be able to excise the antithesis near the moon''s surface. The next use of the Teslakollisionsgenerator should significantly weaken the moon''s structural integrity." "Cool, cool," I said. "And that''ll be enough?" "It should be. Current calculations show that Phobos should begin dispersal six hours before entering the red zone. At which point our task becomes to further spread the remaining mass out as much as we can so that its entry into Earth''s atmosphere is minimally disruptive." "Anything we can do to help on our end?" I asked. "Your current push has been quite positive, I would suggest you continue," Radikal said. "Though, if you have any exotic weaponry that might slow the moon down, it would be quite welcome. Otherwise, anything that weakens its integrity should be prioritised." I leaned over and looked at the shells behind us. "I think I might have something for that. Was gonna load something else first, but we might as well try it? It''s called a Full Stop? And it''s a sort of spatially locked thingy that we can leave in Phobos'' path. I don''t think it''ll stop the moon dead, but it might slow it down." "Hmm, that would depend on the size of it, but I can imagine such a thing causing some significant damage," Radikal said. "I almost wish we had attempted a different approach than the Teslakollisionsgenerator, one that would allow for more flexibility." "Yeah," I said, because what else could I say? "In any case, fire that device. The Teslakollisionsgenerator is warming up now and should be ready for another strike within the hour. This time we''re aiming for the opposite of the usual compaction method." "You''re gonna make the moon uncompact?" I asked. "Like, spread apart?" He laughed. "Exactly! Before the larger wave of drones arrive and risk being battered by the moon''s expansion. Hopefully this will expose the hives within the moon so that they might be eliminated." "Is that even a problem at this point?" I asked. Susan huffed. "Obviously. Though I can see your reasoning in thinking otherwise." "Yeah, lots of reasoning going on here," I said. "But explain it to me anyway." He was silent for a moment, and I think that the language barrier saved me a little. "The antithesis within Phobos is a higher-tier model wrapped around a large hive. Were it to crash on Earth, it would survive." "Damn," I said. "So we want it dead before it gets around, but we''re breaking the whole moon up anyway, so it''s kind of a moot point, no?" "Not quite," Radikal said, and he really sounded like someone who''d earned his doctorate as he ''um actually''d'' me. "The issue with the antithesis currently inhabiting Phobos is that it allows the moon to adapt. The wings we saw earlier, the production of small fliers dedicated to eliminating keiretsu drones, and now there''s evidence of organic cooling systems below the moon''s surface as well as organic reinforcements threaded throughout the structure. According to all of our calculations, Phobos should have been cracked and destroyed by now. The antithesis is holding it together, and more importantly, encouraging the moon to repair itself." "Repair itself?" I asked. "It''s producing a cement-like compound and filling gaps," he said. Ah, well, fuck. "Okay, that does make things more complicated. Will your drones be able to kill it?" "They will do what they can," Susan said. "Alright then. Let me and Gros Baton here load up the next shell, then we''ll see about spreading that moon out like... uh..." I froze. None of the metaphors I could think of when it came to spreading things were PG 13. "Anyway, yeah," I settled on. "Thank you, Stray Cat," Radikal said. "If we do happen to fail, it will comfort me to know that I was at least able to work with such talented people." *** Chapter Fifty-Nine - The Full Stop Does Not Stop Chapter Fifty-Nine - The Full Stop Does Not Stop "While we try very hard to keep inflation at a steady rate--because such a steady rate allows for steady, controllable growth across all sectors--we firmly believe that the currency inflationary rates for foodstuffs might be too elevated. 500% yearly increases would mean a very real risk of starvation amongst the workforce, a workforce that we''ve yet to automate. Not to mention, this same workforce makes up a vast majority of our customer base." --Letter from the Union of Corporate Interests of NA, 2042 *** "Here goes nothing," I said as I gently tapped the fire button. My hair stood on end, the room trembled slightly, and the shell was off. At the moment, it was somewhere in the mid-afternoon, and I couldn''t help but feel like that was subtly wrong. We had just fired what might be the final blow. It was meant to be momentous, something big and important, a moment that would go down in the history books... and all I could think about was how I was a little hungry. "Could really go for a snack right about now," I said. "Ouien," the kid said. "J''ai un, uh... catalogue for poutine." "Wait, just poutine, or is it like, a food catalogue?" I asked. He shrugged. "Just that. It was cheaper." Huh. I knew that catalogues were cheaper the more narrow their scope, but I''d never thought to apply that to food, specifically. "Alright. Is it good, at least?" "Eh," he made a so-so gesture. "La petit place au coin d''ma rue en fait une bonne aussi." I squinted and translated that one all on my own. The local place made a good one too. "Well, I''d give it a try, I guess." "Cool! Tiens," he said, and then just like that, a styrofoam bowl with a little plastic cover appeared in his hand. It was warm, and instantly filled the room with a greasy, fatty smell. I took it from him and peeled off the cover revealing... cheese curds, fries, and lots of brownish sauce. Somehow this felt like a step down from the usual Protector food I ordered. Gros Baton handed me a plastic fork, and I shrugged before digging in. It tasted as healthy as it looked. Salty and greasy. The cheese squeaked and the fries crunched. It was pretty good, to be honest, but I just knew this was going straight to the love handles. We watched the progress of the Full Stop on the main monitor while we ate. The little shell was racing ahead right towards Phobos. A smaller status screen showed the Tesla Collider warming up for its next big shot, and the Keiretsu had a small army of drones on a collision course with Phobos as well, all timed to arrive about two minutes after the Collider did its thing. "Oh, it''s gonna impact," I said as I pointed to the screen with my fork. "Mhm," Gros Baton agreed before wiping some gravy from his chin. "Fuck ''em up, tabarnak!" "Yeah! Tabarnak all the way!" I cheered. I had to hand it to the kid, he''d make for a good drinking buddy. Maybe if I was into sports or something I''d invite him over to watch the game and he''d show up with booze and snacks. The Full Stop shell... stopped about a minute later. It went from moving at fuck-you-fast speeds to being completely still in a blip. Though... I wasn''t so sure. Things were still moving around it. It just looked like it had suddenly changed directions? "What''s it doing?" I asked. It has stopped. The motion you see now is the relative motion of the sensor equipment and Phobos, but the shell itself is locked in place. "Locked in place relative to where?" I asked. Don''t you worry about that. I felt like it was probably something I should worry about when Myalis said something like that, but I wasn''t going to have time for the whole explanation when Phobos and the shell were just about to collide. I leaned forwards and switched the main monitor to a camera view from one of the spy drones keeping pace with Phobos. The Full Stop was too small to be visible at the distances we were looking at. Phobos, on the other hand, was a zoomed-in mass of rock covered in a lot more craters than it had had a few days ago. Huge sections of its surface were blackened by soot and char, and there were cracked canyons running across it like the shell of a dropped egg. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. A few mountains had been flattened, and chunks of the moon were just outright missing now. And then Phobos ran into the Full Stop. It struck the moon dead centre. Or maybe the moon struck it? In any case, there was an immediate reaction. A cratering ripple that ran across the moon''s surface like a splash in a still puddle. Phobos didn''t slow down against the backdrop of stars, exactly, but it looked like the entire moon had flinched. And then it was through, and a scattering of rock and debris came pouring out of the back of the moon like guts out of some schmuck that got blasted by a shotgun. "Nice," I said. The integrity counter ticked up from nine percent to twelve. That was a pretty big jump, all things considered. And then the Tesla Collider came online once more. Arcs of electricity the size of skyscrapers raced across the moon''s surface, illuminating its dark side in bright blues and pure whites. Nothing happened, and I was worried when the integrity counter didn''t move. Was it a dud? Then the moon heaved. It was like Phobos had just taken a deep breath Chunks that had to be the size of islands slowly moved up and away. The cracks running across the moon''s surface widened. I was expecting Phobos to simply explode apart, but it wasn''t quite so violent. At least, not from the very long-ranged view we had. Instead, Phobos broke apart like a diagram of one of those cool blueprint things where every part was shown individually. "Whoa," I said as the moon continued to expand outwards. It was twice as big as it had been at the start now, parts still connected by long twisting trails of lightning. The Tesla Collider stopped, and the steady, neat separation of the moon gave up. Chunks collided into each other, others went tumbling out into empty space. The moon scattered. I might have called it a total destruction, except that Phobos was alive, and it wasn''t happy to be split apart like it had been. Long tendrils reached out, crashed into the bigger parts of the moon, and tethered them in place. It looked like the middle of the moon was a many-tentacled sea-urchin desperate to keep itself together. That thing, to scale, had to be bigger than New Montreal. I wasn''t sure if it was a single model or thousands of them working together, and I was even less sure if the difference mattered at all. The Keiretsu arrived a minute later. A swarm of drones, larger than any of those they''d sent before. They burned hard in the empty void. A thousand candle flames visible in the dark. Retrothrusters? I wasn''t sure and didn''t know enough to guess beyond that. Whatever rockets they used were jettisoned to crash into the semi-disassembled Phobos. Then the drones themselves moved in. It looked like they weren''t doing much at first, except that there were occasional explosions of rock and debris across the inside of Phobos'' expanded shell. Gros Baton did something, I think turning on some sort of thermal vision, and then the lasers those drones were firing became visible. Each was like an angry disco ball, sweeping lines of hot fire through the antithesis meat. Smaller models were launched by the thousands, then by the tens of thousands. They scattered, some flinging themselves across space, others had their own ways of moving through space. Drones started to die, but never without exploding violently on death. I glanced over to the integrity ticker. Thirty four percent. Had we really just taken off a third of Phobos'' mass just like that? "Look," Gros Baton said. I turned my attention back to the screen, poutine entirely forgotten as a swarm was unleashed. There had to be millions of them. Tiny black specs that shot out of Phobos, opened large wings, then farted their way forwards even as they twisted and flapped into a swarm that expanded outwards ahead of the moon. It looked like Phobos was tired of waiting. It was sending its own vanguard our way. "I''m betting that''s not a good thing," I said. "No shit," Gros Baton said. "My AI says we have a day." "Great," I said. "Think they''ll know where we are, specifically, or do you think they''ll just land wherever the fuck they want?" "Yeah, non, I''m not gambling on that one." "Yeah, I figured," I said. Well, it was time to call up the others and let them know that shit was being flung at the fan again. *** Chapter Sixty - Religious Exemption Chapter Sixty - Religious Exemption "While it isn''t the opinion of this author that removing governmental religious exemptions was one of the leading contributors to the fall of Old America, one must admit that the changes to the laws that gave religious organisations the ability to not pay taxes did coincide with other massive changes in the cultural and economic state of the Western world. However, I posit that the Corporate Tax Exemption--the laws allowing sufficiently large corporate entities to avoid taxation outright--was a far greater harbinger of the end of the Old American way." --Doctor C. Thumbs thesis on the Fall of Old America, 2046 *** "Okay, can everyone hear me?" I asked. "Mhm!" Grasshopper said. "You woke me up for this," Gomorrah replied. "Ah, yes?" came Tanket. "Affirmative," Hedgehog said. "Howdy there," Crackshot said. "We can both hear you here!" Princess said. And I didn''t need to glance over to Gros Baton next to me to know that he could hear me, even if he was still distracted by the last of his poutine. "Okay!" I said. "First, uh, sorry for waking you up or whatever." "I don''t mind," Princess said. I went on right past that. "But yeah, big news! Phobos isn''t out of the race just yet, but it sure as shit ain''t looking good." The monitor showed us the moon in all of its fucked up glory. Honestly, calling it a moon now was a lie. Phobos had given up the pretence of being a lost space rock and was just a fuck-big alien hive now with large chunks of moon being held around it like million-ton shields. Keiretsu drones were swarming around Phobos, and more of them were arriving every twenty minutes or so. Not to say that there weren''t any losses. Space around Phobos was also swarming with aliens. Little fliers zipping around, lumps of twitching alien matter, and a disturbing number of what looked like very organic ''spitting'' guns that were knocking out drones as they flew by. Even as I looked, a small chain of itty-bitty explosions ran across one of the bigger tentacles. They seemed tiny on the monitor, but I imagined that each one of those explosions was big enough to take out a house. We''d given Phobos a brown eye and knocked a few teeth loose, but that fucker was still coming. "Alright, so, time for an update," I said. "Go on, we''re listening," Grasshopper said. "The Tesla Collider went off right after we hit Phobos with a new type of round, and the moon kinda... exploded. Now it''s a big tentacle-y mess. The Keirestsu drones are messing it up as we speak. Since the innards are exposed, that means a lot of damage is being done directly to the hive." "Is it over then?" Gomorrah asked. "Or nearly over?" "I don''t think so. We''ve ripped off a full third of the moon, but that still leaves a neat fuckton of moon behind," I said. "And we''ve got new problems to worry about." "Oh boy," Princess said. "Yeah. So, Phobos didn''t seem happy about what we did to it, so it looks like the moon has flung shit our way. Here, I''ve got some imaging of the crap courtesy of our friends with all the drones. Since the Phobos... swarm is basically flying past the Keiretsu drone swarm, we''re getting some pretty good images. I think our AI can pretty much pinpoint exactly where everything is going." I shot an image onto the main screen, then fiddled with the attachment thing in our chat for a moment before figuring out how to send the same to the others. Our buddies were sending non-stop drones at this point. I think they were producing them at some stupid rate. Something like one new drone every five minutes or so. Maybe less. They were launching soon after being built. So that meant that there was a string of drones only a few minutes apart from Phobos to Earth. All of those had cameras and sensors on them, and long-ish ranged laser guns. They were intercepting the Phobos swarm, firing off into the heap as they shot by, then letting the next drone do the same. "That''s a lot of aliens," Grasshopper said. "Far less than an incursion, however." "Is it?" Crackshot asked. "Mhm!" Grasshopper replied. "I recall Stray Cat being in New Montreal during the last incursion there? Did you see it in person?" "Yeah," I said. I could distinctly remember the sky far above opening and aliens pouring out of the rifts by the thousands. "It''s not something I''m going to forget so easily. Not anytime soon. But uh, care to explain what you mean anyway?" Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "Of course. From what I can see here, this swarm is mostly made up for perhaps four or five different models, most of them third tier and below, though they''re variants capable of space-flight. A normal incursion comes down with plenty more than this. And there''s a wider range of models, usually with a focus on models that can make landfall and immediately start building a hive. There are scouts and... for lack of a better term, construction models. The goal of an incursion, insofar as there is a goal we can understand, is to create a beachhead." "And this is different?" Gomorrah asked. "It does seem different," Hedgehog said. "This isn''t an incursion, it''s an offensive." "Yeah," I said. "No, here''s the tricky bit." I ran time forwards in the recording thing. It was all predictions from here, but they''d been made by the Nightwatchmen, and I trusted them to be pretty good about these. The swarm moved towards Earth, then split lightly. One large chunk went right at the Keitestsu''s orbital drone factory, another towards the Teslacollider, and the third, largest group, charged right past and came crashing down towards Earth. Specifically around North America. Even more specifically, towards the eastern end of North America." "Oh, that''s, uh, right on us, isn''t it?" Princess asked. "I was never good at geography, but I''m pretty sure that''s here." "Yup," I said, popping the ''p.'' "I don''t know how, but they know that we''re here, and they''re coming to mess us up." "What''s their ETA?" Hedgehog asked. He sounded a lot more alert now than when this started. "We''ve got a day," I said. "They''re still accelerating. I''ve got no idea how they''ll manage to survive hitting Earth''s atmosphere, but I figure if they can pinpoint our location then they''ve probably got a few tricks to not just burn up and land as a heap of ashes." "This is rather distressing," Gomorrah said. "What''s our next step, then?" "The fuck would I know?" I asked. "I''m just delivering the bad news." "You''ve had longer to think about it," she returned. "And I think we mostly trust your opinion... to a limited degree." "Well thanks for the vote of confidence," I said before I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose. I had a stress headache coming on. "Look... we''ve been handling Phobos on our own. I mean, for our region, at least. The Big Gun''s done what it needed to. We can keep on shooting at Phobos until it''s right on our doorstep because each shot peels a little more away and helps some. But this attack right on top of us? Yeah, I don''t see why that needs to be our problem alone." "You think we should get outside help?" Crackshot asked. "I''m sure some locals won''t mind helping. Emoscythe would certainly help." "Her, and anyone else that''s willing to help at all," I said. "There are a few others around New Montreal, yeah? Hell, there should be a lot of others around here. We can get some from elsewhere in too. The global incursion is calming down, isn''t it?" "We''ll have to involve the Family," Gomorrah said warningly. "Well, tell them that if they don''t help they''ll have to rebrand themselves into the Orphanage, because there won''t be enough survivors to call themselves a Family of anything," I said. Gomorrah chuckled darkly. "I''ll talk to them, then." "I know just about every samurai that lives around here," Grasshopper said. "I make a point of making contact with as many as I can, in case they need help. I can start sending little ''hellos'' to all of them, just in case." "That''d be nice," I said with a nod. "What else? Maybe... ah fuck, we''re going to need to put out a call on social media for anyone willing to help. And to warn people to keep their heads low for the next couple of days." "Not it," Princess said. "Same," Craskshot said. "Pas moi," Gros Baton added. "I''m not suited for that," Hedgehog said at the same time as Gomorrah said, "No." "Ah..." Tankette said as she was caught out. "I don''t know..." "That leaves Cat," Gomorrah said. I blinked. "No it the fuck does not," I snapped. "Tankette can help you, I''m sure." "Aren''t nuns supposed to be kind and helpful?" I asked. She was quiet for a few seconds. "My religion demands that I abstain from social media?" "No it doesn''t! You bitch!" I snapped. But it was too late, wasn''t it? That stress headache wasn''t going to disappear after all. *** Chapter Sixty-One - Lights! Camera! Bullshit! Chapter Sixty-One - Lights! Camera! Bullshit! "You should absolutely, under no circumstance, allow someone untrained in Public Relations do any of the talking when any number of cameras are involved." --Politics 101 Textbook, ninety second edition, 2029 *** I couldn''t decide if I was annoyed with the job or not. Why did I land with the ''be the face'' job? I was crass, rude, uneducated, and lazy. I didn''t want to be the one reaching out to others to get them to kick their ass into gear. But no, it had to fall on me. I could have been home right then, wearing nothing but a loose t-shirt, watching shitty reality-TV on a screen with more square feet than some apartments and with Lucy cozying up to me, but nope, the Earth needed saving and it fell on me to get the saviours to get their shit together. Bullshit. "You, uh, okay?" Gros Baton asked as he heard me muttering. "Yeah, yeah," I said with a dismissive wave. "I don''t know how to do social media shit. I mean, I''ve been scrolling since I''ve been old enough to swipe my thumb down, but I don''t know if that qualifies me for making posts, you know?" You could listen to music your whole life, but that didn''t mean you knew jack shit about playing it. Gros Baton didn''t seem to appreciate that distinction much as he just shrugged. "Fais juste de ton mieux. J''pense pas que tu peux vraiment tout fucker ?a." He grinned. "Dans le pire des cas, tire sur un autre maire ou quelque chose du genre. ?a va te remettre ¨¤ TV." Just do your best. I doubt you can fuck this up too much. Worse case scenario, shoot another mayor or something. That''ll get you on TV again. "Oh, fuck off," I mumbled. He was probably right, though. "Okay... right. What would work on me?" Would I pay attention to a news broadcast by a samurai? Probably, a little bit, if only because it was fun to see the material that would become memes later when it was still fresh. Shit, my brain really was rotted. Right, what would work beyond that? Just sitting at a table and talking into the camera would come off as honest, but also boring as balls. I needed to keep people''s attention. I sent out two texts, both with the same content¡ªone to Gomorrah, the other to Lucy. Would you be willing to wear a bikini on camera to save the world? I got two "No''s" within seconds of each other. They didn''t even ask for me to elaborate. So that plan was shot. Well, whatever. Hot chicks only worked on... honestly, a majority of the population, but if that failed, I''d need something more impressive. I looked around. We... were standing behind a kilometre long gun that shot into space. That was kinda badass. I nodded, then sent out another pair of texts. This time one was to the group chat, the other directly to Tankette. Hey, I need intimidating people to stand in the background of a video while looking cool. Volunteers? The message to Tankette was simpler. Can I borrow your tank for like, an hour? This time the replies were a little more positive. Princess and Knight were down for it. Hedgehog said he would show up, and Gros Baton was already right here. Tankette didn''t mind letting me use her tank at all. And Crackshot said that he could be over with Emoscythe within the next half hour. Gomorrah was busy, but once she caught on to what I was planning, she let me use her Fury which... well, it might get a certain demographic of car nuts to pay attention, at least. The next problem was making things seem natural. Sure, having half a dozen samurai was badass, but... we could just be standing there like a bunch of jumped-up dorks. That''d immediately look unnatural and stupid, and if there was one thing that a modern audience would pick up on, it was inauthenticity. Thankfully, while I busied myself moving my cat mech next to the Big Gun and placing it next to the Fury and Tankette''s mini-tank, two familiar faces popped up, and I instantly had an answer to my problem. That answer being ''make it someone else''s problem''. "Emoscythe!" I cheered as she and Crackshot walked across the compound. Emoscythe looked around the place, curious, but not seeming too impressed. She had been a samurai for a while, so this setup was probably nothing too spectacular for her. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "It''s Emoscyhe Mordeath Noir," she reminded me, not unkindly. "And hell, Stray Cat. I see you''ve taken to wearing the outfit I helped you with." "Ah, yeah," I said. I was rocking that bounty-hunter samurai look. She, on the other hand, was in full-on gothic lolita, with a poofy yet rather short skirt with a wide fringe...thing. She looked one part French maid, one part sickly Victorian child, and with all of the chains and little skulls built into her dress, not to mention the sword by her hip, one part ''capable of fucking you up.'' "Hey, you''re the resident PR expert, right?" "I am," she said without an ounce of uncertainty. I glanced at Crackshot, who was smiling like... well, like one of those pictures of a golden retriever who''d just been given a bone. He looked normal otherwise, though I didn''t fail to notice that his cowboy hat had a little black skull pin on its band. "Cool cool. I need to set up this stream thing. I want to show off that we''re serious. How do I do that?" Emoscythe blinked, then looked over the scene. The others were mostly forming into small groups and chatting, but it was obvious that the scene wouldn''t hold. "Just let people do whatever they want. If they''re visible, then they''re visible. I''ll try to stay in frame if you wish it, but there''s no point in faking things if you can''t fake them well." "Yeah, people can always tell when things are fake," I agreed. "No, people can tell when the fake is cheaply done," Emoscythe corrected me. "There''s a point where the common person''s perception stops noticing things. But you won''t have to worry about that, I''m sure. What kind of camera are you using?" "Huh? Oh, I''ve got a cat drone around here somewhere. They have camera eyes, I think I can use one of those." Emoscythe did not look impressed. "No, absolutely not," she said. "One moment." She reached a hand out to the side and a box appeared over her splayed fingers. It was small, made of a dark, lacquered wood with thin insets of a lighter wood forming a sort of mandala pattern across the top that looked a bit like a skull if I squinted. The front had a nice, brassy looking clasp. It was, by far, the fanciest samurai order box I''d ever seen. Most of the time it was plastic with maybe a logo printed on, this was on a whole other level. She reached down the front of her dress, then tugged a small metal key out. It was on a long string that wrapped around her neck. I blinked, then tried not to think dirty thoughts as she fit the key into the box''s lock and twisted. The clasp came off with a click, and the top opened of its own volition. Out of it came... a doll. Not quite just a doll. Its ''face'' was a complex array of small cameras and sensors, all black gunmetal, but the rest of it was designed like a small victorian doll. It hovered up to eye level and floated there, staring at me... kind of menacingly. "This is a proper media drone," Emoscythe said. "The kind of thing I used to use when I had my drone phase." "Drone phase?" I asked. "We all have one," she said dismissively. "Its cameras are better than anything you can afford right now, so don''t be shy. And don''t worry, the footage will be downscaled to something appropriate for public consumption. We don''t need people learning about the random soldiers in the background by scanning one of their hairs from afar, do we?" Wait, what kind of resolution would allow for that? "Uh, okay," I said. "Thanks." Emoscythe walked over, then started to fiddle with my outfit. She adjusted my coat, tugged on my scarf a few times, even licked her fingers then ran them through my hair, which was kind of gross, but she was scary enough that I let her. "There," she said as she stepped back. "You could do with some makeup, but you''re never seen with any so it would ruin the illusion." "What do I say?" "Never mind that," she said. "You''re a samurai. As I was once told, our job is to say ''fuck it we ball'' and then do what we think is right. Rehearsal never helped that." She glanced at the drone. "You''re live in three." "What?" "Two." "Wait, serio--" The drone''s eyes lit up, and I froze for a second. Then my well-honed bullshittery reflexes kicked in. "Hey, assholes. Just a friendly head''s up; Earth is about to be blown the fuck up in... t-minus not very long, so listen up." *** SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner: Cassy the Clowns Big Top Bonanza, by FullAutoAlice You are questioning my sanity? I¡¯m not the one standing in an incursion zone in a 1-credit flak jacket, holding a microphone. Potato King; Los Angeles Incursion, ground zero. Said to a reporter while he loaded a glowing green potato into his signature homemade PVC cannon. ** ¡°Who throws a pie at a plant monster?¡± Cassandra cried in her head as she ran down the empty halls of the community centre. Her oversized shiny red clown shoes slapping against old, but clean, linoleum. A four legged plant, with whipped cream falling from its face, rounded the corner of the hall not far behind her. Losing its grip on the polished floor it slammed into the wall with a flurry of scrabbling legs and a bang, embedded slightly into the thin drywall. Causing young Cassy to start in surprise, and let out a small squeak of terror. Deciding that racing a killer plant down a long hallway was not on her agenda today. Cassy turned quickly, and almost copied the antithesis, nearly going top over tea kettle. She barely managed to stay mostly upright by hopping on one foot. She booked it for the stairs. "Maybe they are bad at stairs!¡± She hoped in her mind. Cassandra had somehow forgotten about the very large, very awkward, very shiny, apple red shoes adorning her feet. She barely managed to make it down the first dozen steps before one glossy toe hooked on a pleat in her oversized, but amusing, pantaloons. Cassy careened cacophonously down the stairs, clattering off of corners, and generally having a bad time. Her descent was stopped rather abruptly when she encountered something far softer and much squelchier than the concrete stairs and their steel railings. It gave way before her with some very awful splattering and squirting sounds. Cassy found herself battered and a little bruised pressed up against the metal stair railing, covered in a rather unpleasant and sticky mess. It reminded her muddled mind of when she¡¯d brought balloons full of flavoured gelatin to the water fight last summer. She had no desire to taste this goop though, it smelled rather awful, like a pile of week old grass clippings. ¡°Greetings Vanguard! Congratulations on your first kill! My name is Bartholymu. Might I recommend you get moving. The one you pied in the face is still coming¡± Dumbstruck, Cassy just sat there, staring at her painstakingly handmade clown outfit. Days of hunting down the brightest colours of fabric she could find. Hours of learning to sew, and the pricked finger tips to show for it. Now a rumpled and torn mess, covered in plant guts. And she had a voice in her head! Was she was a samurai now? No no no no no. Cassy was a clown. Cassy was going to bring them back into popularity. It had been her life¡¯s goal since she found the archival footage buried in the meshl! The world was in chaos, there was an apocalypse on! People needed laughter, parties, and balloon animals! And whip cream pies thrown at them, and dunk tanks, and joy buzzers, and, and, and¡ Her mind spiralled trying to make sense of it all, visions of circus tents whirling in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m an entertainer!¡± She cried out in the stairwell. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to bring light and joy! I¡¯m not a crazy Samurai, I¡¯m not a killing machine¡¡± She trailed off, a hiccup of a sob was followed by tears forming in the corners of her eyes. ¡°Why not both?¡± her new brain dweller responded. ¡°You should probably get moving if you want to do either one though¡ pie boy is coming!¡± Sure enough, there it was. Just rounding the corner of the stairs. All but the last drips of whipped cream gone from its strange planty head. ¡°Weapon! Weapon! I need a weapon!¡± She mumbled out as she tried to push herself further from the creature. ¡°What sort of weapon, I have a number of¡¡± ¡°Anything¡± Cassy hollered out ¡°Anything I can smack that thing with¡± She continued, as she managed to pull herself back to her feet. One sock and one scuffed red shoe slipping in the mess around her. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. A solid weight materialised with a burst of confetti into Cassys hand. Gripping the shaft with two hands she swung it hard at the creature as it leapt at her. It smacked solidly into the vile things cranium, sending it careening off over the railing. Cassy looked tentatively down at what she held in her hands, it appeared to be a large hammer, like the ones from the carnival strength challenge game, wooden, and brightly coloured, with a ring of stars at each end. ¡°Did, did um, I hear a cartoonish Bo-oi-oing sound on impact?¡± She asked the voice in her head. ¡°You did! I thought it was very on brand. Cost an extra point. Totally worth it if I do say so myself. Why? You don¡¯t like it?¡± Cassandra stared down and the hammer gripped tightly in her hands. Her breath came faster. Images of the past half hour roiling in her head. Arriving early, her excitement as she set up her booth for the penny carnival, the anticipation of the smiles and laughter, she was going to bring such joy! Then, the alarms went off, there were plant monsters. A whip cream pie launched in panicked surprise sliding down a fibrous face¡ ¡°Like it?¡± She gasped out, holding the hammer out at arms length, gripped tightly in two hands. ¡°I love it!¡± Cassy the Clown''s face split into an almost rictus grin, but not too rictus, that might scare the audience, her frightened demeanour seemed to melt away. Putting the hammer to her shoulder she stared over the railing at the broken but still squirming antitheses. ¡°What else you got in your bag of tricks Barty? Anything to fix up this suit of mine? I seem to be missing a shoe¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you have finished panicking Vanguard. Allow me to take you through some options¡± ¡°Me? Panic? Never.¡± She scoffed with a guffaw, while striding confidently down the stairs. ¡°I was just lulling them into a false sense of security¡± Setting her stance wide, she hefted her hammer and brought it crashing down hard, finishing off the struggling plant. It released another loud boi-oi-oing as it bounced back from the ground, spinning her for a tight circle before she regained her footing. ¡°I like it Barty. More and more and more. Now, what do you have in longer range options? I¡¯m thinking maybe combat confetti cannons?¡± Cassy the Clown grinned a manic grin as her new best friend began to excitedly list options. ***** Several hours later a trio of armoured SUVs pulled up out front of the community centre. PMC members doing cleanup sweeps of the neighbourhood after the incursion. They pushed open the doors and rapidly formed up in a well disciplined formation to secure the front atrium, expecting the worst, as they usually would find. The sight that greeted their eyes however, had them pausing in shock and confusion. The foyer was a mess, not with bullet holes, or scorch marks, or craters, or the other many signs of an incursion. It was covered in candy coloured chaos, what looked like whipped cream was smeared across the floor, up the walls, and dripping in glops from the ceiling. Whip cream that apparently could dissolve plant tissue. If that¡¯s what the slowly shrinking and sizzling mounds inferred. Smelled a bit like cotton candy. Confetti with razor sharp edges lay scattered about. Mixed with the cream, and embedded in every available surface. The air sparkled with multi-hued glitter. It caught in the back of the commander''s throat. ¡°Masks on,¡± He called out, and the squad in unison donned heavy duty full face gas masks. Moving amongst it all, were two foot tall balloon animals. Cleaning supplies clutched clumsily in soft rubbery limbs. Slowly, and rather awkwardly, doing their best to get the mess strewn on the floor, walls, and ceiling, pushed into a comically large black garbage bag that was making happy chewing sounds, bouncing cheerily all the while. ¡°Um captain?¡± One of the grunts began. ¡°What the actual, sir?¡± Another commented quietly, staring at an object being dragged by a balloon giraffe. ¡°Are those googly eyes on a No. 5s head?¡± The captain held up a hand motioning for silence and pulling out his radio. ¡°Command, do we have reports of any Samurai in the area?¡± His radio began to squawk back at him, but whatever was being said was drowned out by the sounds of honking horns, dinging bells, and clanging symbols. Coming down the hallway was a girl on a bike. She was dressed in oversized clothes of every colour imaginable. Polka dots, stripes, and random shapeless splotches warring for dominance from head to toe. Bright curly red and blue hair shot up in a pair of massive floofy pony tails that bounced behind her. Driving the pedals were a pair of the biggest, brightest, shiniest, apple red clown shoes to ever shine brightly. Her face was plastered in a massive, almost frightening, grin, her sparkling white teeth ringed by bright red paint, her face covered in thick white cake makeup. Her hazel eyes sparkled gleefully in the centre of blue diamonds. The bike was right out of a children''s book. One perhaps written with far too many rhymes, like foxes in boxes. Its paint job, loud and chaotic, an assault on the eyes. It had a swooping curvy metal frame, random doodads and whatsits hanging off of it at every possible place and angle. It was adorned with an array of bright squeezy horns honking, and shiny metal bells dinging. Standing proudly off the front were a trio of cymbals, clanging away to an unknown rhythm. Trailing behind on a curvy hitch was what could only be described as a child''s drawing of a pie throwing machine made real. A rabbit shaped balloon animal sitting in a gunner''s seat at its centre. ¡°Heya boys! What¡¯s shaking? Can I give you a hand?¡± The strange young woman hollered boisterously. Before striding over and vigorously shaking the dumbstruck captain''s hand. She turned around, putting hands to hips and proudly watched her inflatable minions at work. The captain stared mutely at her back. Still holding the fake white gloved hand she left behind. ¡°Samurai¡¡± He said softly as his shoulders slumped. ¡°I wonder if any of them are sane.¡± Chapter Sixty-Two - Cat Out of the Bag Chapter Sixty-Two - Cat Out of the Bag "Holy shit, guys, have you seen this? No no, it''s on the stream, look, some samurai took it over? Another? Oh, fuck, they''re on all the streams, this is big shit! Wait, wait, did she just say that Earth is gonna be destroyed?" --Reaction Andy Dandy, livestream, 2057 *** I swallowed and tried not to let it show when Myalis filled the edges of my vision with the kind of information that the average streamer would die for. Viewership numbers, lists of channels and streams I was on, even a few rapidly-scrolling chats that were moving too quickly for me to read anything. At least I could easily pick out the generic ?? emojis. Another small box showed me what the world was seeing. It was... me. Well, my helmeted face, at least. It was a cool helmet but it was also rather... faceless? There was no expression there. So, to start things off right while the viewership numbers were still climbing so fast that the ticker looked like it might spin itself out of control, I reached up and removed my helmet. The entire time I was aware that the camera was catching sight of the others in the background. Tankette was by her tank, but also by Hedgehog who''d just arrived. She was tugging his uniform back on straighter and had licked her thumb to wipe a smudge off of his face. He seemed rather off put by the whole thing, but wasn''t fighting her off any. From the corner of my eye, I could see Emosythe next to Crackshot. They were both listening as Princess pointed to the Big Gun and gestured at a bunch of things. My helmet came off, and I casually let it fall before running a hand through my hair. It was that fancy new tech hair, which was honestly just cheating. I had always liked having longer hair, but as a one-armed cripple that shit was hard to maintain. Lucy had always helped me get the knots out and brush it down. She liked doing it, and it wasn''t like her own frizzy mop of hair was easily brushable. This tech hair shit? Yeah, it just fell into place, curled just right, bangs where they ought to be and not a knot in sight. It was bullshit and proof that Myalis'' space buddies were also bullshit. No one wearing a helmet for so long should remove it to perfect hair. "Alright," I said as I looked back into the camera. I''d given myself thirty whole seconds to get my thoughts in order and I''d spent none of them actually thinking. Go me. "So, as I was saying... you might have noticed if you''re the sort of dork to stare at the stars, but Mars is fucked. Planet''s been overrun by aliens for a bit." The chat sped up at that, and now the cat emotes were joined by little red circles. "So, buncha top-tier samurai went over to Mars to clear it out, because we can''t have the next nearest planet be covered in shit that needs killing. So far, all good yeah? But then the aliens flung Phobos--that''s one of Mars'' moons--at us." I pointed with a thumb over my shoulder. "That''s the Big Gun. It''s a kilometre long railgun. It fires bullets the size of a man''s head so fast you need scientific notation to write the speed down through a portal at the end of the barrel and out of another portal slapped on the side of a spaceship. It''s fucking rad as hell." I nodded, because what else was I supposed to do? "Anyway, we''re not the only samurai that have been fucking Phobos up, but I''ll let the others talk for themselves. Look, things were going alright for a good chunk of time here. We were messing Phobos up, cracking it apart bit by bit. Sure, it''s a moon-sized mess of tentacles and hate, but we were fucking it up like a back alley mugger caught by the cops. Actually, we''re still messing it up." I started to walk, because it gave me something to do. No clue what I was supposed to do with my arms and hands, so I let them dangle uselessly by my side. The camera panned along with me, its creepy doll thing shifting as it caught Princess, Emoscythe and Crackshot in the background, then Knight standing an awkward few steps past them. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. "Phobos has mostly been fucked over. We should all be safe... ish. If things keep on the way they are, most of it will miss Earth and the rest will burn up on entry. So yeah, you''re welcome. Except the alien fuck living in the moon just flung a whole shit load of fliers our way. We''ve got... Myalis, what''s the ETA?" Approximately sixteen hours. Huh, that was a decent chunk of time. "We''ve got sixteen hours or so before they start entering Earth''s atmosphere. They probably won''t burn up on entering because they''re made for this shit. We''ll kill plenty, but we''re mostly focused on Phobos at the mom--." I frowned, and almost went on when I got a ping. I''d gotten a text. From Lucy. I blinked as I opened it. Lucy: Do you prefer this one? Lucy: Or do you like this one better? Lucy: Img...1 Img...2 "Hmm? Oh, sorry, I got a text from my girlfriend," I said to the camera with a dismissive little wave. I opened the two attachments, and they both filled my vision. "Oh." I felt my cheeks warming up before I carefully saved both images and closed them. Lucy had found some bikinis after all. They were cat-themed. She had a tail. "Uh... right, so, uh." I coughed into a fist. "Aliens are going to rain down from the sky to eat everyone. Which is the important thing we should all be focusing on. Stop posting blush emotes you fucks," I snapped. I wasn''t blushing. "Some of you are going to die horrifically and I really wouldn''t mind it all that much, but I happen to care for some people so I''d like to avoid that if possible." I needed to get shit back on track. Fortunately, Gros Baton poked his head out of the Big Gun''s command centre. "Yo! We''re gonna shoot the black hole," he said. I gave him a thumb''s up. "Cool! Lemme know how that goes. Uh... right, for the rest of you. If you''re a samurai in North America, keep an eye on the skies? We think that the aliens are mostly aiming for around this area here, to take out our Big Gun. So what I''m saying is that if you''ve got the time and the inclination not to turn into plant food, then... contact Gomorrah at this number!" I waited for a moment. Nothing happened. "Myalis, for fuck''s sake, put Gomorrah''s contact information on the screen." Oh, fine. The information appeared on the screen at about the same time as I got a text from Gomorrah. It was two words, one of which was very un-nun-like. I chuckled to myself, then stopped when I realized that probably made me look like a creep. "Anyway. World''s fucked, but we''re working on it, so give us a few and don''t lose your shit. I mean, in the worst case scenario we fail and then you won''t have to worry about anything anymore, right?" The Big Gun started to hum behind me, and I paused, not looking its way as the gun fired. All along the edges of the gun, steam came spitting out of the vents built into the sides of the barrel and there was a crack-thoom that made my hair stand on end. I nodded. "Yeah, anyway, Stray Cat, out. Good luck out there." I saluted, then ended the video. The total viewership was in the mid two-digit millions. I took a breath, and when I let it out it was a little shaky. Fuck, that was bigger than the entire population of New Montreal. And I just knew that more people would be watching recordings of that whole thing after. "You okay?" Gros Baton asked. "Yeah, I''m fine," I said. I shook my head to clear it, then reopened those pictures that Lucy had sent me. She had to know they were arriving mid-stream, right? Unless she''d been distracted and didn''t know. Either way, I felt like I ought to go see her about now... before the adrenaline wore off... and before she changed out of that. I deserved some amount of stress relief, as a treat, right? Of course, Gomorrah chose that moment to call me, and it was clearly a group chat meant for all of us. I groaned. Maybe we could just let the world end, then no one would ever have to deal with team meetings ever again. *** Interlude - Stay At Home PR Manager/GF Interlude - Stay At Home PR Manager/GF "Wow, there are a lot of haters out there," Lucy said. She shifted, reaching down to rub at her calf where it was a little itchy. The motion caught the eye of the other person in the room who looked, then immediately snapped her attention away. "Are they saying anything about Delilah?" Lucy grinned. It was just her and Franny in her and Cat''s bedroom. Fortunately the room was massive, and they''d snuck a couch in next to the kid''s pool in the corner with a good view of a big-screen TV Lucy had acquired with her discretionary funds. Those funds came from her efforts to fundraise and raise money for the Burlington branch of the Kittens, who were actually doing very well. She was slowly allowing the group to expand into New Montreal. That meant appointing managers--of a sort--and arranging both online and IRL meetups and discussion groups. It was fun busy work, and it was giving her a pretty nice chest of spending money. A lot of corporations were willing to throw money at the cause. Lucy suspected that it was because they thought it would get them in Catherine''s good graces. She accepted the money and promptly forgot everything about those giving it to her. Morons. "You wanna see if people are talking shit about your girl too?" Lucy asked. Franny frowned. "No," she lied. Lucy smiled, all teeth. Their nun friends might have had a posh education in their little nun-house, but they lacked some vital skills, like how to lie or properly hide their feelings. "Don''t worry, they''re not being too mean. I saw her name pop up here and there, but not too much. I think people just associate her with Cat." "I suppose. They are samurai partners," Franny said. She shifted in her seat. It was a simple single-person seat with a few plump cushions on it. Franny sat on it as if it was a pew while she worked hard not to look Lucy''s way. If Lucy were a more vindictive, evil woman, she''d flaunt her stuff some more, but there was only so much teasing she could do before even she started to feel bad. "Might you please consider putting something on?" Franny asked. "Oh, fine," Lucy said. She was getting a little cold. And while being all chilled and perky was fun for sending pics to Cat, it was less than comfortable after a while. She padded across the room and plucked a clean-enough shirt off the floor. It was her old Cat''s Got My Tongue shirt. One of her favourites. She pulled it on, then returned to the couch, but not before grabbing a blanket from the foot of the bed to wrap herself in. "Omph," she said as she flopped onto the couch. "Okay, did I miss anything?" "In the thirty seconds it took you to cross the room?" Franny asked. "Hey, this is the internet, shit moves fast." Lucy blinked, and with a small gesture she brought up a dozen screens across her vision. Without a Myalis to cheat for her, she had to arrange things on her own. She''d gotten a few programs to help sort and moderate chats, and now she was using those to pause the live feeds to catch a glimpse of what people had said. It was thankless work, of course, so she didn''t plan on doing any more than the bare minimum. Honestly though, she didn''t expect that reading even a thousandth of what had been said would be necessary. She was in the middle of said work (after teasing Cat with those bikini pics of course) when Franny showed up to help handle the media side of things. There wasn''t really much they could actively do, but keeping abreast of people''s opinions might be valuable moving forwards. Lucy needed to know which memes to capitalise on for maximum success. [User: Alia, Anxiety Prone] THE ALIENS ARE COMING! ?????? [User: WakiestWombat] Can a cow fit into the railgun? Cows a % of c please! [User: Freija] Why does Stray Cat have perfect hair? AAAAAA [User: TwiTwiTwi] #SpaceHair [User: OneOfTheSols] RIP Phobos [User: Bobble] RIP Phobos, you were a good moon [User: FeralSlider] Flung Phobos at Earth? How??? [User: BlazeBrightly] Yooo, that''s a big gun! [User: ShortFused] Kilometre-long railgun? #WTF [User: DiceyFrew] She''s blushing! [User: MythologicalSelkie] Bets on what that message had? [User: PrinceofHemlock] Show us the GF pics! [User: S''tella] Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.Lmao, gay [User: FanaticalFirefly] "Big Gun." Solid name. Very creative. Definitely didn''t name it last minute. [User: WhoNow] Aliens are coming and soon so is cat! [User: HarpingLili] I''m looking up and I don''t see aliens #AnotherConspiracy [User: SaneMika] I think it''s sweet that her GF texted her <3 [User: MamaGoose] #CatforMayor [User: Cammie D. Sprite] One railgun Vs. One Angy moon? "Hmm, yup, the people on the internet are all weirdos," Lucy said. "That''s not very kind to say," Franny replied. Lucy scrolled up a little. "This one here wants to eat Cat''s hair... and this other one wants to lick her toes. Even I don''t want to do that, and I''ve definitely licked her before." "Ah," Franny said. "I think I''ve just started to naturally filter those kinds of replies out." "Like ads," Lucy said. "Exactly," Franny replied. "Just get so used to them that you barely perceive them at all. I don''t know if that''s healthy or not, to be honest." "Oh, definitely not," Lucy said with a sardonic laugh. "But whatever. Overall, it looks pretty positive?" She moved her arm across the air before her a few times, resorting her various feeds. She had no idea how Cat had managed to be on so many sites at once. At least, initially. Back when Catherine had murdered the mayor, the news was only carried by a few local news channels, but then it had been picked up by a bunch of bigger ones, meme sites, and aggregators before finally the react streamers got in on it and spread it even further out. This though? This was being streamed on every major steaming platform, right at the top of their pages, it interrupted live news broadcasts too. Lucy initially expected people to comment on it. It was rather funny to see newscasters jump and try to handle the screens behind them switch out to Cat''s stream, especially with her opening. The AI newscasters were a lot more confused, some of them still looping through the story they''d been covering before. The stream had also shown up on TV, but Lucy didn''t know anyone who actually watched TV anymore, so it was kind of just a weird footnote. Her sorting ended with roughly four piles. At the top left, the most ignorable streams and older forums. The reactions there were muted, though a few of the more scienc-y bunch were going on and on about the Big Gun and its implications. That''s also where she shoved the political echo-chambers. They were already working to try and spin the whole thing against each other, but their memes had stopped being funny thirty years ago. In the top right, she placed the celebrity stuff. Media aggregators and influencer dumps, as well as all the hangouts for the big paparazzi chains. The chats there were split between gushing at the samurai that showed up in the background, speculating about Cat''s lovelife, and yapping about hair, clothes, and possible new fashion trends. The bottom left was for the people freaking out about the end of the world. It was a small chunk of the overall number, and yet she couldn''t decide if that was a disturbing fact or if it being the largest chunk would make it worse. Finally, the bottom right of her vision was filled with reaction Andies. Streamers and quick-media platforms that usually specialised in small, high-dopamine content. They were in it for the spectacle. It was also the corner where Lucy started to sort through the most memes. The meme trends were wild at the moment because Cat had unwisely fed them all with so much to work with. "T-Minus Not Very Long" was doing great on some of the more wargamer-ish sites and was on T-shirts already. People were talking about a huge jump in tech-hair prices, and images of Cat''s cute blush were all over. She''d hate that. But memes made the world go round, and memes pushing things from the mainstream core of the internet and deeper into the mesh, where the permanently-online sequestered themselves. Memes were like... rain, Lucy imagined. No matter how deep someone was in the underbelly of things, they always found a way to leak through the ceiling and leave mould on the walls. Or something like that. She''d workshop the analogy some more. "Hey, are you hungry?" she asked. "Me? I suppose," Franny said. "Cool! You can help me cook something up for Cat, I need to talk to her, and food distracts her better than anything else. Plus I want to give the rule thirty-four artists some time to cook." Franny sighed. "Of course you do." *** Chapter Sixty-Three - Cat Called Chapter Sixty-Three - Cat Called "The history of telemarketing stretches all the way back to the early days of the Bell telephone, where only the eccentric and rich could afford a phone of their own and therefor they made for great targets for sales pitches and cold calls. As history progressed, the phone became an ubiquitous part of human society. It''s no surprise that ads vectored in throught that medium continue to be popular to this day." --On Advertising, 2nd ed. 2049 *** Gomorrah was not happy with me. I could tell, because she very pointedly removed her facemask so that I could get an unobstructed view of her glare. Also, the first thing she said when she arrived was "I''m not happy with you." "Did you get a lot of calls?" I asked. "I had to get an answering machine catalogue," Gomorrah said. "Your little prank has cost me fifty points." "Oops?" I said. I wasn''t actually remorseful, but I could pretend to be guilty like the best of them. "But hey, some of those calls are good, right?" She sighed, but nodded. It had been a couple of hours since my broadcast. Most of us here were just chilling around the Big Gun, cheering whenever it went off and taking in the occasional update from Gros Baton about the progress around Phobos. Things were actually looking up on that front. Phobos had been fucked up pretty hard, and it wasn''t being allowed to recover at all. The constant swarm of drones were leaving their mark. Death by ten million cuts was still death, and we were helping by ramming the moon with the occasional miniature black hole or web of monofilament. The points we were earning helped too, though it wasn''t all that much all things considered. A nice, steady trickle every fifty-odd minutes. I''d seen some images of the moon. It was fully split now, and some of the bigger chunks didn''t even have tentacles keeping them together. Keiretsu drones with large thrusters were pushing the bits apart. It looked like they were moving at a snail''s pace, but that didn''t matter. It would be enough for those chunks to miss Earth entirely. A one degree change so far out meant a whole lot to us down here. The next use of the Teslacollider would probably be the finishing blow. We''d crush what was left of Phobos, and then all that would remain was the clean-up. So, in a way, we''d won. Woo. Hurrah. All that jazz. Actually, sarcasm aside, the mood was pretty upbeat. Princess and Knight were prattling along to Emoscythe. Tankette was taking care of a food tent nearby, wielding a ladle like a king might a sceptre. Crackshot and Hedgehog were close to the entrance of the Big Gun''s control room, close enough for Gros Baton to join in on their conversation. I had listened in for a bit, and... it was really disgusting the kinds of things guys would start talking about when there wasn''t a woman around. Not that I would start flinging stones from my glass house or anything. The area was starting to fill up as well. The idea of keeping the Big Gun secret had flown out the window with my broadcast. There was too much background stuff. Some geoguesser would spot two trees and know the exact coordinates down to the centimetre. It was only a matter of time. So if secrecy was out the window, then the best protection came from numbers, and that meant a huge influx of troops. Major Tinwhistle''s engineers had gotten back to work, setting up barracks and defences. The ground was being reinforced and extra concrete was being poured out into moulds for barricades. The order of the day was AA. The incoming swarm was made up of fliers. Gunning them down before they hit the ground or even got close was our best bet for keeping the Big Gun and the area around it safe. "We received some calls from several local samurai," Gomorrah said. "And several from some that aren''t as local. I''ve gotten offers from some less-close samurai as well. Dreamer and Teddy from Calgary, Grey Goo, Myriad, Bloodhound, Magpie, Xenovir, Hard Rain, GroundWire, Speed Demon, Cassy the Clown and several others from Big Top, Gaea, Legion...the list goes on. I''ve also gotten some... unhappily-worded messages from the Family saying that they''ll be willing to assist us with the logistics." "Logistics?" I asked. "What sort? Are we going to be spreading people out?" "Ideally, yes. It looks like this will be the epi-centre of the... pseudo-incursion, but antithesis will be landing all across this hemisphere." Gomorrah reached up and rubbed her nose. "It''s a lot. We need to cover a huge area. There might be a few samurai that can do that, but they''re not around, so scattering as many samurai as possible makes sense." Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. "Alright," I said with a nod. "And the Family''s taking charge of that?" "They are. And I''m looking over every one of their choices now. They''re annoyed that we didn''t give them a proper head''s up and forty-eight hours of lead-time before dropping that announcement." Well, at least she was saying ''we'' and implicating herself in the whole mess. "They do understand that forty-eight hours is too late, right?" "Does logic and common sense ever stop you from being irritated by something?" she asked. I didn''t have to think about it for long. "No," I admitted. "That''s a fair point. But you''d think they''d be better. Plus it''s like, a whole-ass company. We''re talking about them like they''re one person." "Sometimes it''s just like that," Gomorrah said, and she didn''t elaborate any before sending me a message. I opened it without checking. If Gomorrah was sending me viruses and shit then I would be in a rough shape already. It opened to a map of our hemisphere, centred more or less on where the Big Gun was located. There were pins all across it in an array of colours with little icons next to them indicating who was where. There was a grasshopper for Grasshopper, a tank for Tankette, a crown for Princess and so on. We were all squished in so close together that there was some serious overlap in the icons. There were also, I noticed, ''ghost'' icons. Those were sometimes linked to a more solid copy of the same. "Are these location markers?" I asked. The ghost icons and the rest were scattered across a wide area. Most of the northern end of the country and a lot beyond as well. Even some over the bigger lakes and out in the ocean. "That''s where the Family wants people. Each location forms the meeting point of a set of three equilateral triangles. So we''ll be equally distant from each other except for a few areas of high importance, like right here." "Makes sense," I said. Then I took in the scale of things. "How many points are there on here?" "Not including the areas of greater importance? A hundred and twelve." "That''s not a lot of points," I said. Not for the amount of area we had to cover, which was massive. "We don''t have a lot of samurai," she said. "Oh," I said. Right, this was all-hands on deck in a big way. Then the map updated and I noticed the triangles getting very slightly smaller, and some icons already hovering over their designated locations were being asked to move inwards. "Did we just get more?" I asked. "This is with the current crop of volunteers," Gomorrah said. "And then, only those that are explicitly working with the Family. I''m, or rather Atyacus, is working to keep in contact with those that called me directly who aren''t affiliated and who don''t want to be. That''s only a dozen or so samurai, so far." "Makes sense. I''d be more willing to call someone directly than deal with a corp I don''t trust in their shoes." "Yes, it turns out that your fumbling around actually had some benefits." "As planned," I said. Gomorrah crossed her arms. "No. Not as planned. I refuse to believe that. In fact, I know otherwise. If anything, this is me looking very hard for a silver lining to your goofing up." I laughed. "Sorry," I said. "So, are we stationed right here?" "This is where it might be worse," Gomorrah said. "And where we''ll make the most points for defending," I said. "And where we literally have an army and no one civilian-like around for kilometres. We can afford to go all out." "And we''ll need to," Gomorra said. "What have you prepared so far?" "Uh," I said. Her eyes narrowed. "You have spent the last two hours or so preparing, right, Catherine?" "How upset would you be if I did nothing but fuck around and chat instead?" I asked. "Not upset. Disappointed." "Ah," I said. "Well, that''s no fun. But it''s also the truth, so at least you know that I''m honest with you?" "You''re nothing but a pest, Catherine," she said. "We need AA set up, and soon. I''m thinking several larger guns. We need the ability to strike at small, distant targets. These enemies will have come through the atmosphere, so they''ll either be weakened, or they''re so tough that it didn''t slow them down and that''ll mean a whole other level of problem." I nodded. She was right, we were dealing with mid-twenties enemies here, probably. These weren''t model ones with a few burnt up feathers. They''d be genuine threats. "I''m sure we can get something going that''ll give them all a proper Earthly welcome." She nodded. "Good. Then we need to get ready to deal with those that survived the landing and any hives they might awaken on the way down." "We''re not finishing this tonight, are we?" *** Chapter Sixty-Four - Anti-Antithesis-Anti-Air Chapter Sixty-Four - Anti-Antithesis-Anti-Air "Orbital defences aren''t an option anymore. They''re a necessity. I understand that there are political frictions involved with planting weapons past low Earth orbit, but for the safety and security of our nation and people, we must prepare to receive the alien threat as far from land as possible, and that means installations in outer space!" --General Whitacker to the US Congress, 2023 *** "Hey, boss, what''s the plan?" Gros Baton asked, leaning lazily against the doorframe of the Big Gun''s command room. His call had caught the attention of the others. I looked around. We were all here, it seemed, with one extra, even in the form of Emoscythe. Tankette was still making her way over while wiping her hands on a small tank-patterned towelette. She was close enough to hear, though. A quick check of my augs showed me that we were a few minutes shy of six in the evening. When had the time flown? Also, had I skipped lunch? I couldn''t remember if I''d eaten anything since that poutine earlier, and that was like, overnight. Right, people were expecting shit from me, and I couldn''t just sit here and bitch about being hungry, even if I really wanted to. "Alright boys, girls and Grasshopper," I said. Grasshopper giggled, so I figured that one had landed. "We''ve got more news, which sucks because I''m tired of this constant cycle of having to deliver news, then something weird happening, then having to deliver more news again right after. It''s a boring circle. Fortunately, the boring circle will be busted up soon. The Family has their panties all knotted up, but I think they''re getting their shit together too. They''re laying out a grid of samurai to keep an eye on the skies and knock the aliens down." "A grid?" Hedgehog asked. "What kind, and what are our numbers?" I checked the thing Gomorrah had sent me. "We''re up to a hundred and forty-eight samurai volunteering, which is pretty decent. The spacing is... awful. We''re covering the entire hemisphere, which means a lot of space between points on the grid. The bigger cities mostly have locals staying in them to keep them safe, and they usually have their own AA so there''s that." "There are hardly all that many cities in this hemisphere," Crackshot said. "I reckon NM''s the biggest here, then Quebec to the east and a few more south of us, but the north is wide open. The west has some pretty big gaps too." "It''s a problem, yeah," I agreed. "The nice thing is that no one sane lives in the north, so fuck it. If the aliens crash there, that''s on them. They can eat snow or whatever." "They''ll need to be taken care of," Grasshopper said. "Just because a problem isn''t right in front of you doesn''t mean that it doesn''t exist. The antithesis will have to be dealt with, even if they''re not landing right on top of us." "Well, that''s where we''re lucky," I said. "Because they definitely are landing right on top of us. Got the projections from our German pals. They did the maths and we''re right smack-dab in the centre of the shitshow, and it''s probably safe to say that this is where most of the aliens will be coming. We have almost a day before it''s raining plants." "So what''s the plan?" Gros Baton asked. He pointedly looked up to the sky, where it was a bit overcast. "Tire le ciel?" "If Phobos is already fucked, we can probably use the Big Gun a few times to shoot into the swarm," I said. "Does Earth have any orbital defences?" "A few, yes," Gomorrah said. "There are some stations in orbit that belong to various samurai. You''ll recall Deus Ex''s station." "That''s the kind of thing I was thinking about, yeah," I said. I could still remember just... going into space on one of Deus Ex''s planes and arriving at her station. I was pretty sure it was in low Earth orbit, not space, but I was also sure that I was the last person that should be discussing the difference between one and the other. "Her station had guns on it, right?" "She''s taken it to Mars," Gomorrah said. "Wow, top-tier samurai are amazing," Princess said. "Yeah, it''s a whole other thing," I agreed. "And Deus Ex isn''t the only samurai with a station, right? There has to be more? And if they left them behind, then that might knock some aliens out before they hit the atmo." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. "I wouldn''t gamble on a few stations being enough," Hedgehog said. "Though this entire incursion and the Phobos situation might be the last kick that the governments and corps need to start building real orbital defences. They''ve been talking about it for thirty years." "Budget issues?" I asked. He nodded. "That and public perception. Some people said that the orbital stations would be used for mind-control and I don''t think the smarter people out there had the time or patience to correct the idiot majority." "Ah, that''s rough," I said. It always sucked when the conspiracy theorists got in the way of progress. And it sucked extra hard when they turned out to be right. "So were there really mind control systems that were gonna be put on those orbital stations?" Hedgehog gave me an unamused look. "They were to assist with advertising. They''re not mind control." "Uh-huh," I said. "Anyway, setting that aside. I think that whatever we have in orbit can help, but it''s unlikely to be anywhere near enough to completely stop us from being attacked on the ground. I''m not even sure if any AA we buy will be enough." "To add to that," Grasshopper said. "It''s very probable that on entering the atmosphere, the antithesis will scatter signal pheromones. That might well trigger any still-dormant hives into awakening, but the last global incursion might have actually saved us there." "How so?" I asked. She gestured vaguely around us. "Because most hives were already awakened by similar means." Which meant that they were already attacking or had been wiped out. The Phobos antithesis wouldn''t find too many locals to help them, but just because we''d wiped out a number didn''t mean that we''d taken them all out. This entire expedition had started as a way to go out and cull more and there was no lack of the fuckers around. "Okay, so we''re going to have to shoot them down, then probably deal with a local surge or something?" I asked. "That sounds accurate," Gomorrah said. "Since we have time to prepare for it, we might be able to gain additional support from New Montreal to defend this area." "More troops?" I asked. She nodded. "And artillery. We''re within range of the bigger pieces in the city, and well within range of any of the missile launch systems." "Right," I said. "So primary focus is anti-air to knock the fuckers out, and then ground defences second?" That seemed reasonable enough. The discussion turned towards just how much air defence we wanted. We''d all been earning a fair few points, and this next fight would earn us a few more, but the pool wasn''t infinite. In the end, Hedgehog and Emoscythe ended up being the ones leading that discussion. They both had more experience than the rest of us, one in military matters, the other with direct combat experience against the antithesis. The plan was simple. Fill the air with so much high-velocity lead that we wouldn''t even be able to see the plants before they came crashing down. Missiles were okay too. Soon enough, we were all buying up some AA for ourselves. There were plenty of catalogues that had something capable of shooting into the air, and for those that didn''t have the inclination, we were all up to sharing. Tankette bought a large rack that fit onto her tankette, then she got a set of multi-barreled guns on a turret that hovered on top of that. Princess and Crackshot combined some of their catalogues into a sort of... very pretty boxy building with a single barrel sticking out of the top. Grasshopper and Emoscythe both got their own small buildings, towers that were very much opposites. Squat and rounded for Grasshopper, with a sort of boffer gun atop it, and tall and angular and dark for Emoscythe. I was pretty sure that Emoscythe had done that on purpose, tailoring her design to... uncompliment Grasshopper''s so much that it wrapped around to matching. Gomorrah just bought a large missile launching system. She said it was like a HIMARS and I pretended that I knew what that meant. Gros baton supplied a heap of ammo for the rather plain-looking installation that Hedgehog bought and dropped by the command centre of the Big Gun. The others spread their things out a fair bit, placing them around the Big Gun but not all clumped together. It left me with a spot of my own... which I now had to figure out how to fill. *** Chapter Sixty-Five - Skys the Limit, But I Can Reach Chapter Sixty-Five - Sky''s the Limit, But I Can Reach "Wow. Insurance is such a scam." --Lord Burninator, at his criminal trial for Mass Arson, 2032 *** "So, what''re my options when it comes to AA?" I asked. Presuming from context that you mean Anti-Air and not Alcoholics Anonymous, or automotive insurance, then we do have quite a few options. In fact, you have options for all three. "Wait, all three?" I asked. I was off on my own, feeling a little awkward for being away from all the others, but it wasn''t all that bad. I''d be rejoining them in a minute or five. Indeed. Technically, as a vanguard, you could subscribe to any number of insurance services. The companies offering them make the information about their low premium Samurai tier policies as easy to find as possible. As for the alcohol, I have substances that are so addictive that you''d never have time to be addicted to alcohol to begin with. "You are far less reassuring than you ought to be sometimes," I said. I find it amusing. "You think you''re so cute," I muttered. I''m adorable. Now, shall we talk anti-air options? You have fifty-one thousand, one hundred and seventeen points at the moment, which is a very respectable amount of buying power. I glanced over to the others. They were mostly crowded around Tankette''s updated tank with a few further out. Crackshot and Emoscythe were sitting in a rather nice wrought-iron bench that had definitely not been there minutes ago. "That''s... a lot of points. Shit, I''m close to the big leagues, aren''t I?" No. You''re still some ways away from that. However, you certainly are edging your way out of the more beginner tiers. Now, what kind of budget are you looking at? I rubbed my chin for a moment, then nodded. "I think two thousand or so? I know I have a lot more I could splurge here, but that doesn''t feel right for a one-and-done kind of event. I''ll want something that I can move back to our home and slap onto the roof. So it needs to look pretty intimidating? As for weapon-types... maybe something that fires larger rounds so that I can load it full of explosives?" That''s a clever idea. How about a Mark Six Heavenly Striking Tiger Automated Anti-Air Platform? It would come up to a thousand nine hundred and fifty points. A few shy of your stated limit. The system is autonomous, with very competent long-ranged tracking capabilities, and it''s designed to fire 30mm shells. Those were some chunky bullets. "Will they go far enough?" I asked. "Ideally we can hit them while they''re still, like, nearly in space?" That complicates things slightly. But I could have the barrels reinforced, add a water-cooling system, and elongate the receiver to compensate for those additions. It''ll allow you to fire the same projectile but with a larger propellant charge. You might still want specialty shells to reach that far up, whereas lower targets can be taken out with more traditional rounds. All that would increase the cost by two hundred points. That was a smidge over my initial budget, but not by so much that I''d mind. The gun was probably going to earn that point cost back, and then some. "Alright, do it," I said. Not so fast. This gun is rather large. Placing it right in front of you wouldn''t mean that it can''t be moved, but it might be best to lay it down in its final intended position. Ah, that made a heap of sense. Myalis was pretty good with the deliveries of stuff. She''d never dropped anything on my toes before and I''d come to trust her with that kind of thing. "Lemme ask Hedgehog where he wants it, he seems like the one to ask." It was him or Emoscythe, but she was being cute with Crackshot and I wasn''t gonna cockblock my guy. Hedgehog was happy to help. He explained the rough idea of the current layout, going on about overlapping fields of fire and combined arms and firing intervals. He didn''t want our flak to mess up our missile fire, and there were issues with several of our things interfering with our targeting. The army had more balloons they were putting up, there with powerful sensors strapped to the top pointing into the sky to better identify incoming fliers, and we were going to piggyback off of that a little. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. The army also had its own AA. A mix of rather simple ''big gun that shoots up'' and surface-to-air missiles specifically designed to track and hit antithesis. The army had a lot of gear for taking out swarms of model ones, even far from a base or a fixed location. They were a minor threat on their own, but in big enough swarms they were definitely a problem. They also had some weapons platforms for bigger fliers. But what they didn''t have was weaponry designed to take a flying antithesis out from over a dozen kilometres away. The strange truth was that warfare had become a much closer game in the last few decades. Range was still king, but when the enemy always rushed to come to you, it made things much easier overall. Since the thing I was aiming to buy had decent range and seemed like it wouldn''t have great traversal, Hedgehog insisted that I place it more or less in the middle of the camp forming up around the Big Gun. He called over one of Major Tinwhistle''s assistants, some sergeant engineer who bobbed his head in understanding, then literally took off running. Ten minutes later we had dudes digging a hole then filling it with concrete and rebar and basically setting down a platform for my AA gun to sit on. It only took a few minutes for it to set. It was some sort of quick-drying cement, and the engineers were attacking it with what were basically industrial hair-dryers to get it to set even faster. The engineers placed some large metal plates over the whole thing, then backed off and kind of just lingered there. It looked like they wanted to be the first ones to take a peek at my new toy, which was fair, I supposed. "Alright, I''m ready," I told Myalis. New Purchase: Mark Six Heavenly Striking Tiger Automated Anti-Air Platform Points Reduced To: 48,967 The gun appeared with barely a whisper. Myalis had obviously calculated it so that it arrived with no space between its feet and the metal plates the engineers had set down. It was pretty big, the size of an old school SUV, with four long barrels covered in metal shrouds sticking out of the business end of it. Of course, all four shrouds were shaped like pouncing tigers, with the barrels sticking out of their mouths, and the boxy remainder of the gun had my familiar neon cat logo slapped onto the sides. There was a space in the rear that someone could easily walk into, with access to several ammo hoppers that were currently filled with 30mm shells with cases longer than my forearm. The turret spun around, then aimed straight up, the moment so quick and sudden that I jumped in surprise. "Looks good," I said. "If a bit gaudy. What''s up with the name? It sounds like some Chinese web novel''s protagonist." "You''ve read a novel?" Hedgehog asked. "I mean, I''ve seen ads," I said with a shrug. The name fits the naming rules. "What naming rules?" I asked. The ones I made up. I narrowed my eyes at nothing in particular. I could almost feel Myalis laughing in the back of my mind. "For someone so smart, your sense of humour is weak." She didn''t rise to that bait and left me stewing in silence with my new super AA gun. Tilting my head back, I looked up and into the sky. It was a little overcast, but it seemed as though the clouds were lifting in a few spots, enough to see the sky, at least. It was just dark enough to make out some stars past the incredible light pollution put out by New Montreal. No aliens, though. Not that I''d probably be able to see them until they hit our atmosphere. Still, it was strangely unnerving to look up, feel so tiny, and yet know that death might be raining down on me at any moment. I shook my head and pushed those thoughts away before turning around and marching off to meet the others. We''d chat a little more, then I wanted to head back home for the night. The world might end tomorrow, but that didn''t mean I couldn''t spend today with Lucy and the kittens. Besides, I was learning not to hinge too much on ''mights.'' I was a samurai; defeating the odds with superior firepower was what I was meant to do. *** Chapter Sixty-Six - Points Are Precious, But Explosions Are Priceless

Chapter Sixty-Six - Points Are Precious, But Explosions Are Priceless "The HIMAR system, or the High Mobility Artillery Rocket system, is a weapon''s platform designed to carry mid to long ranged rockets onto and out of the battlefield so as to be able to assault an enemy position from a tactically advantageous angle without pre-existing defensive infrastructure. While the HIMAR system proved its worth in the early 2000s across several theatres, its real accomplishments were during the early 2020s incursions where undefended areas were made the target of saturation bombardment by HIMAR systems in order to eradicate Antithesis threats." --History of the HIMAR, 2031 *** "That''s not enough gun?" I asked. "Obviously not," Gomorrah said. She had her hands on her hips and was looking about as amused as usual. She was also standing next to my... what was it called again? The Mark Six Heavenly Striking Tiger Automated Anti-Air Platform? "What''s the rate of fire on this thing?" "A lot?" I tried. It had four barrels. That was four times more gun per gun. Gomorrah just rolled her eyes. "Atyacus says that it fires two hundred and forty rounds a minute. That''s a decent number, but it''s nowhere near enough to counter the sheer volume of antithesis we''re going to be dealing with, especially as some of them will take multiple strikes to take out." "Ah," I said. "So what, I need an even bigger gun?" "Or more of them," Gomorrah said. "I bought six HIMARs. One will stay here, another is heading to New Montreal, and the other four are going in every cardinal direction to provide a wider umbrella of fire. They''re each loaded with sixty precision rockets each." "That feels low," I said. She shrugged. "They''re reloadable. I''ll be sending a truck-bed full of extras with each. My point is that we, and by extension Grasshopper and Emoscythe, can''t afford to be cheap here, Catherine." Oof, she was using my whole name, which meant she was being serious. "I''m assuming it''s because we''re the big guys around here?" Gomorrah finally removed her hands from her hips. "Essentially. We''re the highest tier''d samurai in the area. Grasshopper and Emoscythe notwithstanding, but neither of them are built for combat exclusively." I assumed she meant ''built'' in the sense that they weren''t exclusively focusing most of their points-earned into combat-related stuff. Grasshopper, I knew, poured a lot into education and information and even some into infrastructure. Emoscythe did fashion and mass media misinformation and propaganda stuff. They weren''t combat-specialists the way that Gom and I had somehow managed to become. The newbies were... well, they were doing their own things. Gros Baton didn''t seem to have picked any specific path yet. Hedgehog was definitely heading in a ''combat'' kind of direction. I suspected the same for Tankette, though she felt more like a support and logistics kind of person. Princess and Knight... actually, I had no clue for them either. Crackshot was probably going to keep up his current ''kill things dead from afar'' shtick. Yeah, looking over at the newbies, it was clear that they were still scrounging things together. The Big Gun had given them all a massive boost, though. "Okay," I said. "That''s fair. Let me chat with the Major. I''ll see about buying a few more of these guns that we can slap around." Gomorrah nodded. "Do you want me to buy you some trucks for them?" "Are they expensive?" I asked. "A cheap land-based car is only about four hundred points for me," Gomorrah said. "That few?" "Cheap," she repeated. "No easily replaceable parts, good construction quality but poor materials. Battery-powered, but not designed to be recharged, and not exactly comfortable to drive. They do have stable bases and are strong enough to carry something like your AA platform to a destination, though." That made sense, though it was a little weird to think of something as large as a car as cheap. The sheer bulk of it made me think ''expensive'' but then a lot of stuff about cars were expensive in relation to just owning the damned things, right? The fuel and permits and parking and all the rest. The actual car was just plastics and some metal and a motor. Maybe some tires or whatever. "Alright," I said. "I''d appreciate that. Lemme chat with the Major. Maybe I''ll get five more gun platforms as well and like, a trailer-full of ammo." I paused. "And some smaller cat bots to keep them in our hands. Just in case." "That might be wise," Gomorrah said. "I don''t worry too much about that. You''d have to be mentally unwell to steal explosives from a samurai, especially explosives designed to be detonated from afar." If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "Sounds like a good way to clean out the gene pool," I said. "Anyway, yeah, lemme hit up the Major. I''ll be back in a bit." Gomorrah seemed pleased with herself if the way she sauntered off was any indication. I watched her go for a moment before turning back towards the rest of the camp and in particular the small mobile base slapped down in the middle of it. The Major was there, sitting behind a desk beneath an awning that extended from the side of the mobile base. She glanced up as I squeezed past the guards standing nearby. "Major," I said. "Samurai Stray Cat," Tinwhistle said as she stood. "Can I help you with anything?" "You might be able to, yeah," I said. "Oh, thank god," she said, and her shoulders slumped. "Ever since your broadcast went live, the army''s been breathing down my back." "Trouble?" She groaned. "The brass, and by that I don''t just mean the Brigadier General, but the actual top brass, are blowing smoke up my ass right now." "I don''t know what that means and I''m not sure I want to," I said. She snorted. "A mere Major in the position I''m in right now is seen as... somewhat above my rank. They''d rather replace me. But by all reports we did really well here, and they don''t want to rock the boat. So instead they''re nagging at me non-stop." "So... this is a bad time to ask for a favor?" I asked. The Major shook her head. "God no. This is the best time. More samurai work is a valid excuse to foist off all this paperwork to some poor schmuck that isn''t me." One of the major''s assistants raised his head further in, and I had the distinct impression he was the poor schmuck in question. "Right, well I''ve got some work for you, maybe. I''m about to buy a few more of those big AA platforms and I was hoping you could spread them around. I''ll probably get some cat bots too, to guard them, but more guards couldn''t hurt." Major Tinwhisle frowned a bit. "I can help with the installation and the transportation as well." "Gomorrah said she''d get me some cheap trucks to move them around," I said. "Anyway, I''m sensing a but?" "My boys are engineers. Not guards. We''re all armed well enough, and we''ve got some stationary weapons sitting around that we can lay down in a pinch, but we''re not the ones you''ll want guarding your machines. I''ll pop a question over to the Lieutenant." "Think he''ll be okay with lending us some guys?" I asked. "Oh, of course he will. The army being seen so close to this many samurai is a PR miracle. The brass are losing their shit right now. I''ll bet you that recruitment numbers double in the next six to nine months. Especially if we can get footage of our people in green fighting next to you lot." Fair enough. Some hot military-types fighting the aliens next to a few samurai always looked great. Slap on some phonk and after effects and young men and women across the country would race to sign their lives away. I looked back and noticed a small row of five extremely nondescript trucks parked not too far from my platform. "Cool! I''ll buy the guns. Just have them set up before nightfall, yeah?" "Can do, ma''am!" Major Tinwhistle said. She was out and shouting orders a split second later. I walked back to the trucks, checked to see if they had room on the back, then chatted with Myalis for a moment. A few seconds after we came to an agreement, there were five distinct thunks and the trucks settled down a little. New Purchase: Mark Six Heavenly Striking Tiger Automated Anti-Air Platform (x5) Points Reduced To: 38,217 "Alright," I said. "And now... cats and ammo." The cats were cheap enough. A semi-decent drone was a hundred point investment. I needed ten, which did sting a little, but I swallowed my cheapness and made the purchase. New Purchase: Personal Use, Security Systems, Model Y (x10) Points Reduced To: 37,217 And then, while the boxes were still appearing and the mechanised cats were still climbing out of them, I checked on the next set of purchases. About three thousand points worth of ammunition, split between high-velocity armour penetrating sabots and timed-explosive flak rounds. New Purchase: 30mm Anti-Air Ammunition - Various Points Reduced To: 34,217 That stung a little too, but it left me with several dozen large boxes, the sort that would require two strong guys to lift, filled with pointy-tipped shells with my grinning cat logo stamped onto their sides. If all of this wasn''t enough to give the aliens a warm welcome, then nothing would be. *** SCS Halloween Special "Alright, you little shits. Line up!" I snapped. The little shits did not line up, because they were little shits, and you didn''t earn such an illustrious title by listening to people when they gave you instructions. I worked my jaw and narrowed my eyes at the lot of them. "Last one in line I get to pick their costume." That snapped them to attention. It was always about the stick and the stick. If they misbehaved, you whacked them with a stick. And if they did good, you''d give them a stick to whack others with. Carrots were for losers. The plan for the day was easy. Actually, it wasn''t so different than the usual plan. Every year, on Halloween, we''d head out and canvas the nicer mega-buildings. Most of those had these events. Corps would ''give out'' candies for the low-low price of filling out surveys and signing waivers, and there were a few shows and the like on as well. For whatever reason, some people liked handing out treats and stuff. Some of the nicer, more upper middleclass mega-buildings would allow people to decorate their apartment doors. You could knock on those and do the old traditional trick-or-treat thing. I found it kind of stupid, but it was also free food. It was one of the few nights in the year where being a poor shit wasn''t all that bad, because people were bleeding hearts and orphans often got an extra handful of candy. At the end of the night we always sorted it. Stuff that''d last a while, stuff that needed eating sooner, and then drugs and other crap that had been snuck in. The last we used to resell, because it was basically free credits. This year would be different, though. Nose stepped up first, having shoved Bargain back behind the Twins. He turned my way, sniffed, then rubbed the back of his hand across his upper lip. "Alright," I said. "What do you wanna be?" Nose grinned. A year ago he''d be grinning with a gob of snot poking out of his nose, but we''d fixed that. Still left him with a few ticks, and that name. "I wanna be snot." "Snot," I repeated. "Like... a large heap of snot?" "With cat ears," he clarified. "That''s stupid," I said. "You said we could be whatever," he said. I crossed my arms. "I said that assuming you wouldn''t want to be something dumb." Nose pouted at me, and I rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine." New Purchase: Cat-eared gob of snot costume A box appeared next to us, and Nose cheered before scooping it up and running off. He started to change into it right then and there and... yeah, he quickly turned into a large gob of snot... with cat ears that bore a striking and disturbing similarity to my own. "Alright, next," I said. The Twins stepped up next. They were fighting, which is just what they did, but they also shared a look before locking eyes with me. "Princess," one of them said. "Knight," the other said over their twin. I narrowed my eyes at the two. "Like, as in the samurais Princess and Knight? Or like, a generic princess and knight?" "The samurai," the said at the same time. It was creepy as shit when they did that. "Okay. Princess would probably love having people dress like her." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. New Purchase: Princess costume New Purchase: Knight costume "There you go," I said as two boxed appeared before me. They were quick to snap them up and run off to get changed... and then the started arguing over which one of them would be wearing what. I didn''t get involved. The Twins would argue over anything for any reason. "Who''s next?" The answer was obvious as Bargain stepped up. He narrowed his eyes. "When you say any costume, what are the limits?" "Don''t start," I said. He started. "What if I chose to go as a fully-functional matter fabrication unit? Or can I go as Infinite Power Man?" "Who the fuck is that?" I asked. "My OC. His costume allows him to generate infinite power, which he sells at market rates in order to generate income." I pinched my nose. "No," I said. "You can''t go as that." Bargain grumbled, but he nodded eventually. "Fine. In that case I''ll go as Crackshot. He''s cool." "He''s alright," I said. Bargain looked a little insulted at that. "He''s saving so many points with his catalogue that lets him keep the same weapon and just upgrade it." "I guess," I said. "Plus hes'' definitely banging that goth chick." "Oooookay," I said, cutting off that entire line of conversation. I was as dirty as the next person, but I didn''t want to have the brat bragging about someone I knew like that. It veered into the realm of impossibly awkward. New Purchase: Crackshot Cowboy costume Spark stepped up and met my gaze with a serious one of his own. "Power junction box." I sighed. There wasn''t a normal one in the lot. New Purchase: Power Junction box costume Nemo was next. She stepped up and stood tall. She''d always been very shy, and extremly reserved. To the point where it was an actual challenge to get her to talk sometimes. Now she was a lot better. She was gaining a bit of weight, in a good way, and was far more likely to tell the others off. "I want to be like Grasshopper," she said. I nodded. First costume that I fully approved of. I might not be the best... parental figure around, but even I could understand that Grasshopper was a good influence. "Good choice," I said. New Purchase: Grasshopper costume Tim came up next and he grinned like the little shit he was. "Hotter, male Stray Cat," he said. "No, that''s a terri-- New Purchase: Hotter, Male Stray Cat costume "Myalis, what the fuck?" I snapped. It was too funny not to. Don''t worry... he won''t be that much hotter. I watched as Tim went off and opened his box. Within was a costume of my usual power armour, but with redder lines and some flames on it. Cheeky AI. "Did you want to be a hotter version of me too?" I asked Junior as she came up next. She was next to Katallina, with Catkiller the mutt trudging along next to them. "Nah," Junior said. "I''m going as a sexy nurse." "Sexy witch," Katallina said simply. I wanted to say no, but they were both old enough... ish. Well, whatever. Myalis would keep it pg, probably. "If you freeze, that''s not on me," I said. "Burff," Catkiller barked. He was giving me a look. That dog never liked me, and it was mutual. New Purchase: Sexy nurse costume New Purchase: Sexy Witch costume New Purchase: Bunny costume I blinked as three boxes appeared. The last was smaller, but it had a dog bone on the cover. We all stared at it for a moment, then looked to Catkiller. "IS that for him?" Junior asked. "I guess?" I said before I opened the box. There was a sort of plastic band in it, with a tie around the bottom, and two long, floppy bunny ears. "Myalis, do you speak dog?" I asked. Catherine, I know more languages than you know words. Well, whatever. I wasn''t going to investigate that further, for the sake of my own sanity. I leaned over and called out across the living room. "Daniel, you want a costume?" "Is there a costume that would let me stay home and not have to go out?" he asked. "No." "Then no, I''m good," he said. Yeah, that''s what I thought. That actually only left one person... Lucy sauntered into the room, taking note of all the kittens getting dressed up or showing off their choices. Spark''s costume let out little electrical jolts and Tim''s really did look like it was on fire. "And what about you?" I asked. "Do you want a costume?" Lucy smiled, and I felt my heart skipping a beat. Damnit. "Oh? Maybe I want to dress up as my hero?" "Your hero, huh?" I asked. "Mhm," she said as she came closer, close enough that she was pressing into me. "My big damned hero." "I swear if this is a bait-and-switch and you say something like Gomorrah, I''ll be so annoyed," I said. Lucy giggled. "Aww! You know me too well! But I was gonna say Emoscythe." "Really?" "Goth is hot." Fair. "How about something we''ll both enjoy, then?" Lucy asked. "How about... Sexy Stray Cat?" New Purchase: Sexy Stray Cat Costume The box was very small. "Do you want to help me... put this on?" Lucy asked. "I think I''d like that," I said. The trick or treating could wait a couple of minutes, right? *** Chapter Sixty-Seven - The Quiche of Commitment

You may enter multiple categories, but have to submit different pieces for each category. Ensemble pieces with SCS and FF can be entered in either category, but NOT both.
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If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.Prizes:

$250 for the main SCS prize
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If you''re ready to enter, then you can post your artwork here: LINK! Forward by the Author Forward by the Author Ohh, I love writing ''Forward by the Author'' it sounds so posh! Anywhozzle~ it''s time for Stray Cat Strut''s eight volume! That''s... a large number! We''re slowly sneaking our way over to the double digits! I want to try something with this one. My writer-senses tell me that it''s a good idea. It''s a way to progress and elevate the narrative, to expand the world, to make the known characters deeper and more interesting and more alive. My author-senses tell me that it''s a terrible idea. That it will put a strain on my readership, that it''ll slow down an already relatively slow pace, and that it''ll be a lot of work to write something that''ll only satisfy the people willing to put in the effort to push through their initial apprehension. Basically, I''m kind of divided on what to do with this volume, and so... I''ll try to be smart about it. SCS is a web-serial. It''s got a unique and powerful advantage in that it is a shared story written for a living and reacting audience. I want to take advantage of that in as big a way as possible. I''m going to listen to my writer-senses. That may end up being a mistake. But I''ll also be listening to you, the reader. The person invested enough in SCS to make it past the first seven volumes and eight-hundred thousand words. I hope you trust me, but I''m also trusting you to be honest with me. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Annnd now I''m going to be less vague and obtuse about things and peel back the curtain, because the analogies and such above are very wordy and yet say very little. SCS currently has a narrative issue where the big threat set up is gone. The arc is closed and completed, and that''s... genuinely a good thing? We have some more issues in the story to tackle. Cat does, that is. But I think a lot of these are kinda... boring, on the surface? So I want to introduce new things and a few new issues that''ll eventually lead into another long arc like the Phobos one! I want to do this by introducing two things that readers hate. A timeskip (of like, 5 in-story days, so nothing bad. We''re not pulling a Worm, or a One Piece here) and then I want to split the story''s focus in three directions. The first and main line remains with Cat. She''ll be the primary focus and narrator of her own story. The second line focuses on Lucy, showing her interacting with Cat, but also with outside people and forces. So... yeah, a few odd Lucy chapters every so often. Hopefully not too many to distract from the main story. I might also sprinkle in a few other POVs in this one since the goal of this volume is to set up a bunch of new arcs. If I do it well, it''ll be awesome. If I mess it up... uh, I think I can still pull it back, as long as people let me know. I''ll write this with several escape clauses built-in. Anyway... yeah, please enjoy this next volume! If I do my job right, it might well be the best one yet! *** Volume Eight - Prologue Prologue "Catherine?" Lucy asked as she stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage and was instantly hit with some regret. Why wasn''t she wearing pants? Why did she go down to the parking garage in flip-flops? Why didn''t she at least have socks on? "Fuck, it''s cold down here," she muttered to herself as she crossed her arms for warmth. The doors into the garage were open on either end of the parking space, and with so few cars here... that left very little to stop the wind. Cat''s new carrier, the Bastion of Sekhmet, was sitting not too far away, serving as a wall against the freezing, humid air coming in from outside. She walked fast, not towards the ship, but rather towards the addition Cat had installed within the side of the parking garage. Lucy frowned as she walked over. They needed more words to call things than ''garage'' because saying that Cat had a garage in the garage just stripped the word of all meaning. "Cat?" Lucy asked as she came up to the entrance of the garage-garage. This wasn''t some back-alley fixer shop like the sort where folks would come to have their DRM''d parts cracked and replaced. This was a high-tech samurai''s garage. There were wall-mounted armed... gizmos and... lifts and tools and stuff. Lucy knew that she wasn''t a stupid woman, but she also knew that she didn''t know jack about any of this stuff. Cat seemed to be in her element, though. Her girlfriend was sitting on a little stool with wheels, head bobbing in time to some music that Lucy couldn''t hear. She had large headphones on, strange ones that covered both her human ears and the cat ears atop her head. In front of her was her old mech, the Nyanzerfaust. The jacks set into the floor were raised up to cradle the mech''s chest so that none of its legs touched the ground. Cat was at one of those, humming to herself while fiddling with a long row of wires nestled inside the leg. Bits of armour were placed on the floor around her, and one of the wall-mounted gimbals was holding out a platter with more parts on it right next to Cat, well within reach. She gestured, and another servoed arm brought down a selection of tools that Cat looked over for a moment before picking from. Lucy just watched. It was strange, seeing Cat so deep in the zone, focused on her own little thing. She was used to seeing Cat getting things done, it was one of the things that made Lucy love her, but usually it was more... big and brash than this. She couldn''t complain. This was a cute hobby, not that she''d tell Cat that she thought it was cute. If Cat asked, then Lucy would tell her that having a big strong butch mechanic girlfriend was the hottest thing ever. In reality, she was just happy that Cat had something keeping her home sometimes. Home and busy with something she seemed to genuinely enjoy. "Piece of shit," Cat swore as she fiddled with something small. A little round nut thing fell and rolled a bit. Cat leaned to the side to pick it up, but Lucy was faster. "Here," she said. Cat jumped slightly on seeing Lucy''s hand, then she looked up with wide eyes and her surprise turned into a genuine smile. "Lucy," she said before tearing the headphones off. Lucy picked up the slight rumble of some metal music from around Cat''s neck. "Didn''t notice you coming in. Are you just wearing a t-shirt?" "It''s what I was sleeping in," Lucy said. "Like it?" "You''re gonna catch a cold," Cat said with a shake of her head. Her eyes were on the effects of the cold, however. "Yeah, I bet," Lucy grinned. She crossed her arms again for emphasis. "Having fun with the mech?" "Huh? Oh, yeah," Cat said as she turned back to the machine. "This leg isn''t too bad. I didn''t think I''d need to poke at it at all, but see these lines here? They''re like super-thin hydraulic lines that go down to the toes and ankles. A few of them got crimped when the mech got thrown around. So I flushed the system out and I''m replacing them as I go. Kind of a pain in the ass, honestly, but I can see why it''s made this way?" "Sure," Lucy said. "Sorry, I know this isn''t the most interesting shit," Cat said. Lucy shrugged. "It''s fine? It does look kind of interesting, but I feel like I''m missing a lot of... context, I guess?" "Yeah," Cat said with an easy nod. "I barely understand it myself, and I''m elbow deep in it." Lucy reached over and casually started to run a hand through Cat''s hair. It was new, the hair. Sleeker and softer than it had been before, but still somehow very Cat. "I''m happy you''re having fun." "Fun? This shit sucks. I''ve got like, a month of little fixes to go. Some of the parts in this thing are just plain nonsensical, I swear. Fucking alien engineering." Lucy resisted the urge to grin. The anger was real, but she suspected that if Cat hated it that much, she wouldn''t be here now, toying with the mech so early in the morning. "Anyway. Did you just come down to tease me? Because I''m okay with that." Lucy snorted. "Nuh-uh, it''s too damned cold down here for anything like that." "I could warm you up." The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Lucy flicked Cat behind one of her cat ears. It twitched and she grinned back. "That''s not what I''m here for. I, uh, got some news? I think it''s good, but I don''t know for sure." "Huh? Anything up? Things have been... kinda quiet, yeah?" Cat asked. "Yeah, mostly quiet," Lucy agreed. After the whole Phobos Incident--which was what the news was calling the whole entire thing with Phobos being flung at Earth--things had gone pretty quiet. Cat''s big projects, the sewers and even Lucy''s Kittens thing had been going... pretty smoothly? The prosthetics shop just a floor above was rolling all day long. They''d reached a nice middle-ground between prosthetic installations and their matter-creator thing being able to keep up with making new gear. That covered their own things, the stuff that was relatively close to home. What was more worrying was how the rest of the world was handling things. The Global Incursion wasn''t quite finished. There were new hives popping up all over, but the news cycle had grown tired of reporting about them already. Mostly, they were on the news when a big enough group of antithesis popped up and got put down by some local samurai. So... other than an uptick in wild hives going nuts, things should have been just fine, but they weren''t quite perfect. Cat was a woman of action, and they''d had a lot of that in the last month or so. More than they''d had in a year or two. Lucy was worried that Cat wasn''t prepared for a long dormant period where nothing really big happened. Peace wasn''t healthy for her little war Cat. Lucy continued to brush her hands through Cat''s hair while Cat fiddled with her mech. "So, uh, remember how you talked about me maybe going to a school or something?" "Huh? Oh, yeah, I remember that. Probably good to look into it for the kittens too." "That''s what I''ve been doing," Lucy said. "I wanted something like an online course for all of the kittens, something that''ll get them a proper diploma and that''ll actually teach them something, you know?" Cat nodded. "Hey, remember those computer courses we had?" "The Nimbletainment ones?" Lucy asked. She snorted. "Yeah. They were awful." "I still remember all of the jingles. Fuckers had that down to an art." That had been the centre of Lucy and Cat''s own education, a series of free online courses that the orphanage had had them take and try to pass. There was some value to it, but all of the math lessons had to do with buying sponsored products, the creative writing was always about the joy of buying something that the company made, or how to write a good review, and the science lessons were always geared towards fast-tracking them to being able to work in a factory. Mostly it was safety lessons. "I kinda wanted something... better? Anyway, I put out some feelers, and I got a reply today. Someone called me, actually." "An actual call?" Cat asked. "Yeah, not AI. It was the vice principal of CIAL. You know, that big university in the middle of the city?" Cat leaned back. "Old McGill?" "That''s its old name," Lucy said. People still called it that, but that hadn''t been the university''s name in a while. It was now the Corporate Institution for the Advancement of Learning. But that was a mouthful. "So, what did the vice principal have to say? Isn''t he like... important?" "I guess so? I guess someone noticed that I was putting feelers out, and then it got up to him? Anyway, he was interested in helping." "Bullshit," Cat said. "Yeah, obviously," Lucy said. "But he was pretty honest about it. The school has two campuses. One''s this older mega-building in the middle of the city, but the other''s their research wing and it''s a huge mini-city to the north of New Montreal. There''s a train that runs between them." "Okay?" "Yeah, turns out, they got messed up by shit during the Phobos Incident. A building folded and a lot of students died." "And you want to send the kittens there?" Cat asked. "No, but the vice principal wants a samurai student, and he''s willing to waive a lot of trouble for it," Lucy said. "Including getting a bunch of brats some one-on-one tutoring from actual teachers at their home and allowing students to basically skip ahead and take classes without all the prerequisites." Cat leaned back. "Huh... I did want you to get out more. It''s not healthy staying at home all the time." Lucy rolled her eyes, happy that Cat couldn''t see it. She was doing this to get Cat out of the house, not the other way around. "It''s up to you, really. There''s a lot of classes. There''s one for cooking that actually sounds kind of nice. Maybe I''ll start a restaurant one of these days?" "I don''t know if I can afford that many bribes." Lucy smacked Cat on the shoulder. "Just think about it. It could be fun!" Cat hummed, then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. We''ll have to go visit the place first, see what it''s like and how desperate they are. I guess I need an excuse to leave the house too." "Good! Now, speaking of my excellent cooking skills, I''m making mac and cheese." "With hot dogs?" Cat asked. "Only because I love you." *** Chapter Two - It Doesnt Say No Parking Chapter Two - It Doesn''t Say No Parking "In the sprawling metropolises of 2152, the Parking Enforcement Authority wields power rivaling the megacorporations themselves. Equipped with drone fleets, AI surveillance, and jurisdiction over the most valuable commodity¡ªspace¡ªthey issue fines that bankrupt families and impound vehicles with surgical precision. No one dares contest their authority; to cross them is to risk social credit annihilation and permanent vehicular exile. In a world of endless expansion, their control over where you stop determines if you can ever go. Starring AI recreations of Humphrey Bogart, Katharine Hepburn, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Scarlett Johansson!" --Trailer for Post-post-post Cyberpunk movie: the Car Cop, coming to theaters June 2057 *** There was a problem that I hadn''t considered when I bought the Bastion and that was that the damned thing was fucking enormous. Being big was mostly a feature. It was a transport, and its largeness meant I could fill it with several tons of angry warmech. That was cool as fuck. What wasn''t as cool was trying to find parking. "C''mon, there''s not a single open space?" I complained as I flew a third slow circle around the parking building on the edge of the campus. The CIAL campus was a city. A small one, but a city all the same. It was just to the west of New Montreal, with the Saint-Louis between the campus and the massive metal pillars holding up the plates that New Montreal sat on. There were a few bridges across, and some of New Montreal spilled out on this side of those bridges, but for the most part, the campus was its own thing. That meant several hundred large buildings set up in neat, corded rows, then a larger, proper campus with a dozen more buildings that couldn''t stick to a single style. They were mostly all glass and steel, with gardens around them and lots of walking space, but some of them were a little more post-post modern, looking like abstract bunkers. Very cool and all, and probably inspirational to the sheep that went to class in one of those every day, but not at all helpful with my current issue. "Can we leave the Bastion hovering?" Lucy asked. "I mean, I guess, but I don''t want to," I said. Then I shrugged and pulled up and away from the parking building. The roof was covered in cars, which left no room to park in, but mostly I was concerned that the Bastion was a smidge too heavy. Turning the ship around, I drove it out towards the central campus, then reached out and pulled the lever to unfold the landing legs. I lowered the ship down gently, and came to a careful landing. I was pretty sure I''d just parked between a massive library and the school''s administrative building. Part of me hoped that I wasn''t accidentally sending a message by placing an obviously dangerous vehicle right in front of the skyscraper that served as the school''s admin building, but if they decided to read into it, that was on them. "Cat!" Lucy complained. "There are paving stones out there. You''ll crack them." "I mean... it''s a bit late to complain? We''ve landed already," I said. "Besides, if they didn''t want me parking here, they could have put up a no-parking sign." Lucy shook her head, but unbuckled herself all the same. "Sec," she said after standing up. A few seconds later, she nodded. "Sent a text to the vice principal. Not that I think he''ll need it." "Yeah, I bet," I said. I paused to look at the screen. The space I parked in was a large plaza ringed by those fancy school buildings. It was pretty much clear of cars, though there was a tram going by. I double-checked to make sure I wasn''t parked on a tram-line, but it seemed like we were safe. I was pretty sure that if it came to it, the Bastion would win in a head-on collision with a train, let alone a tram, but I didn''t wanna risk it anyway. I shrugged, then picked up my jacket on the way out of the cockpit--or was it a bridge if it was large enough to stand in?--and slung it on before catching up to Lucy by the side entrance. "Ready?" I asked. "Yup!" she said. "You know, you''re not allowed to bring guns onto campus." "I... parked a tank here, you think they''re gonna freak out about a couple of guns?" I asked. I wasn''t even going in with that much. I had my Laser Pointer, a compact bullpup SMG slung down by the small of my back, and my Trenchmaker was tucked in a thigh holster by my side. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Oh, and I had a few grenades in my coat pockets, but whatever. The door opened and fresh, cold air swept into the Bastion. Lucy laughed as the wind whipped around us, but the pressure soon equalized and I hopped out ahead of her, then reached back to help her down the slight ramp. We were being stared at, which I figured wasn''t too surprising. A lot of people were moving around on foot, or riding these little motorized bike things around at a pace not much faster than walking. "Oh, uniforms," Lucy said. "Yeah," I replied. The school, university, whatever, had a uniform. It seemed somewhat lax. Black and red and white were the colours of the day, and it looked like the students either had their pick from a selection of coats and pants and skirts and blouses, or there was some sort of hierarchy that I wasn''t aware of in how they dressed. "So, did your guy tell you where to go from here?" I asked. Lucy snorted. "My guy has just replied to my text. He asked me where we parked, said a shuttle was on its way to ferry us over, and then said ''nevermind.'' I think we caught him off-guard." I shrugged. So, we were off to a great start, then? Keeping paperpushers off their toes was the best way to handle them. "Oh, there he is!" Lucy said. I turned and followed her gaze to the admin building. It was a skyscraper, or what might have passed for one a hundred years ago. Thirty floors, mostly glass, and with a sort of massive tear-drop shape. The front doors were opened at the moment, and a skinny man was jogging out accompanied by two others who were obviously guards, and what looked like an aid. The man was a thirty-something sort, maybe forty? With that kind of super-thick hair that only came from people who had implanted fake hair in to cover up a balding patch. His suit was white, with a thin red trim along the edges of the cuffs and lapel and with the CIAL logo proudly pinned to his tie. "Samurai Stray Cat, I presume," he said as he slowed down. He was a little out of breath, but not too badly so. "And Miss Lucy Leblanc, I''m happy to see you." "Huh?" I asked. Lucy glanced at me from the corner of her eye and grinned. That... that was my family name, not hers. I glanced away and tried not to allow myself to blush. "Hi! You''ve got to be Vice Principal Imgreen," she said while extending a hand to shake. The vice principal shook, then he looked at me, flushed a little, and just bobbed his head in something like a nervous bow. "It''s a pleasure to meet you both. When I heard that there was even the faintest potential for us to have a samurai student, why, I was overjoyed." "Really?" I asked. "Of course! It would be the third time in CIAL''s history that an alumni of the university becomes a samurai," he said. That was¡ actually, kind of a lot? Samurai weren''t exactly growing on trees. There were maybe a couple million of us on Earth? I wasn''t sure about raw numbers, but for more than one to come from the same school was pretty big. Not like, statistically impossible or anything, but still, a lot. "That''s cool," I said. "I''ll have to look into them." "Ah, yes," he replied with a grin that looked as fake as his hair. The vanguard in question have passed away. The most recent one in 2044. Only one of them was actively a student of this school when they were chosen to become a Vanguard. The other had left the academic lifestyle some time prior and is only considered an alumni post-mortem. Now that was appropriately dark and kinda fucked up. It was a little weird that it reassured me. "Please, follow me, I''ll show you around the campus. Ah, you may leave your... vehicle parked where it is, of course. We can assign some campus police to watch over it." "Nah, that''s fine. It''s got point-defence weapons," I said. The explanation didn''t seem to reassure the poor guy, and I think that Lucy caught on because she was holding back giggles. "Anyway, show us this campus of yours. I think Lucy''s interested in your... cooking classes? What''s different about cooking classes at a university compared to like, at a community centre anyway?" The vice principal''s mouth worked, but he rallied and was soon going on a spiel that I had a hard time caring about. The things I did for love. *** Chapter Four - Revolutionary Girl Lucy Chapter Four - Revolutionary Girl Lucy "Attendance in higher education has gone through some periods of highs and lows. Counting from the start of the 20th century when education started to become more prominent throughout the western sphere, we see a sharp rise in the number of people getting educated for longer, with dips during the Great Depression, the two World Wars, and a massive rise during the eighties and into the nineties. In the 21st century, we see a similar dip during the 2027 Great Depression, and then a sharper fall in the 2030s, with a subsequent rise during the early 2040s to where we are today. We haven''t quite recovered to mid-2010s levels, but we''re quite close." --Rise and Fall of the Educated, a thesis, 2051 *** "So, what did you think?" Lucy asked as we stepped back into the Bastion. "Eh," I said with a shrug. The vice principal had a few things to show us after the cooking class, but the other classes were out at the moment, and so there really wasn''t too much to show except for some empty training facilities and some big rooms that had nothing in them. We did meet with one professor, the hardass teacher who did combat training, and I kind of liked that bit, but... it wasn''t huge? "Yeah, I had the feeling you''d feel that way," Lucy said. She didn''t sound disappointed or upset about it. "I mean, yeah. But I don''t mind coming over a few times," I said. Lucy wanted this, and it was hardly a huge sacrifice. Though it did beg the question. "So, did you just wanna do the cooking thing, and that''s it?" "Hmm," Lucy hummed. "Yes and no. Did you know that a lot of revolutions start in schools?" I blinked, pausing halfway to the bridge. "Uh.. I guess?" I said. "What''s that got to do with learning how to cook?" Lucy snorted, and then she wrapped her arms around my middle and dropped her head into the crook of my neck. "Silly," she declared. "The cooking thing is an excuse." "You''ve got plans, then?" I asked. "I''ve got ambitions," she replied. "And while I appreciate your help, I think I can do a lot to push them forwards all on my own. I just need to be in the right place and at the right time, with maybe the right contacts." "And do you care to share those with me?" I asked. For a moment a small part of me worried that Lucy might have ambitions that didn''t include me, but that struck me as unlikely. "Mhm!" she said before breaking the hug only to squeeze past me and into the cockpit. She flumped onto one of the seats at the back, the opposite one from the seat she''d taken on the way here. "So! Schools foster revolution. Do you know why?" "I have no idea," I said. "Yeah, same. At least, I didn''t know. But I''ve been looking into it for a while now. You remember the Kittens in Burlington?" "Can''t forget, yeah," I said. "You''re still in contact with them, right?" That was the group of normal citizens that Lucy and I had armed up. They''d turned into a... somewhat competent group of fighters. Not great. They didn''t have the training or even the equipment of a proper PMC, but as far as volunteer militias went, I think they were nearer the top. "I am!" Lucy said. "It''s pretty calm though. Burlington is safe, and now there''s not as much use for the Kittens as an organization. Still, I managed to kinda-sorta buy some space in a few buildings downtown." "With what money?" I asked. "Donations," Lucy said. "Like, if every member gives you a hundred or so credits, that adds up real fast. Plus we sold some extra equipment, did some food drives, and just kind of... gathered a bit of money. And the price of stuff in the city dropped a bunch after the incursion. Anyway, my point is that we now have a soup kitchen, a clothes shop, and a small community centre going, where people can help each other. It''s all very nice and wholesome. Not great for generating credits, but it''s good for the rep." "Huh... okay, and you''ve been doing this from home?" Lucy shrugged. "It''s less work than you think? I mostly just need to be the final word and tell some people what to do and others to remove the sticks lodged up their behinds." I nodded. Lucy was impressive that way. "So, what''s that got to do with this school? Or revolution, for that matter?" "Well, your speech at that funeral? Last week? I think that and a few other things are... they''re sparking something. People want change. They always do. And when it happens, it can be really good. As much as it can be really bad. I''d rather we end up on the really good side of things." The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. I worked my tongue over my teeth as I thought about it. "Okay," I finally said. "Sure. I can see wanting to ride things out on the winning side." "Exactly. Anyway, schools are where a lot of revolutions happen. I don''t think it''s just one thing, either. I think it''s a bunch of smaller factors, and I guess some bigger ones, all smooshed together." "What do you mean?" I asked. "I mean, the students are younger, but they''re old enough not to be babied anymore. A lot of them are ''free'' for the first time. You know?" she asked. It was rhetorical, but I nodded anyway. "And then there''s this kind of... constant frustration with authority. Combine that with a place where people are introduced to a lot of new ideas, and a place where people can network and make new connections, join new communities... yeah, it''s not hard to imagine a campus being the one spot where sparks find something to burn. There are a lot of people here with a lot to prove and nothing to lose, and yet unlike the Kittens, they''re mostly young and they think that they''re real smart." I resisted the urge to point out that both of us were probably on the younger side for college students. "Anyway! I think that if we want to extend the Kittens into New Montreal, this''ll be a good place to start. Plus, the school''s kinda desperate at the moment." "They are?" I asked. "They didn''t seem that way. Sure, hyped to get a samurai student, but not desperate." Lucy smiled. "That''s because he didn''t show us the entire campus. There''s a whole section that was destroyed by some antithesis that came down. A lot of parents are pissed off because their kids died. The school told the army to piss off and that they had their own security." "And it wasn''t enough?" I asked. "It''s like, riot cops and normal security. School police. Not an army. They were really not equipped for tackling aliens," Lucy said. "So there were a lot more deaths than necessary." "How did the school survive the global incursion, then?" I asked. New Montreal had a wall all the way around it now. "Lots of favours, I think," Lucy said. She shrugged. "There''s a lot of important people that went to school here. This is where they made lots of their earliest connections." I eyed Lucy for a moment. "Are you sure you don''t want to be mayor?" I asked. Lucy poked herself in the cheek and tilted her head to the side. "I''m too cute for politics. Tee-hee." I shuddered. "Don''t ever do that again," I said. Lucy''s laugh was more genuine after that. "Sorry! But maybe later? I think I''d either just get chewed up and spit out, or I''d be shoved into a corner where nothing I say matters, like the last few presidents and prime ministers. Just a punching bag for the media, you know? I''d need years of connection-making before I can even start going down that route." Years of connection-making that she could very well do in the place known for making connections. I shook my head. My girlfriend was scary sometimes. It was also real hot. "You know, if you get into politics, you''ll have to start wearing pantsuits," I said. "Oh? Is that a bad thing?" Lucy asked. "No. Very much the opposite. Who doesn''t like a lady in uniform?" Lucy snorted. "C''mon! We left the Kittens at home unwatched for a few hours. We''ll probably come back to find the entire building burnt to a crisp and the kids complaining that they''re hungry." Yeah, that sounded about right. "Alright, alright," I said as I took my seat and started to flick on the Bastion''s engines. A minute or so later we were pulling up and away from the campus. I... suspected we''d be coming back here soon enough. Which probably meant finding a more appropriate place to park in. Maybe they''d give me one of those stickers I could slap onto the windshield that let me get access to their parking garage? I resisted the urge to laugh. I didn''t know if they had parking police here, but if they did, then the poor idiots would need a serious raise. "What''re you laughing at?" Lucy asked. "Ah, nothing smart," I said as I kicked us off the ground and started to rotate the Bastion in the general direction of home. "Nothing smart at all." *** Chapter Five - I Really Wanna Visit Your Home Chapter Five - I Really Wanna Visit Your Home "Wisdom is a relic. Truth is a malfunction. The only things that matter are what can be sold, stolen, or weaponized. Ideas don''t pay rent. Morals don''t keep the lights on. And if knowledge was ever power, it got outbid a long time ago." --Cute-cute cocobooty, Vtuber, 2032 *** It wasn''t often that I considered visiting someone at their home, but I was willing to make an exception for Gomorrah. Mostly because she lived an elevator''s ride away and I didn''t actually need to step out of the house to visit her. I rode the elevator down to her floor, then stepped out into a sort of mini lobby space that Gomorrah had created. There was a bench to one side, and a nice front door with a mat on the ground before it that read Welcome in some fancy script. It was kind of cozy, I supposed, though I was keenly aware that there were two turrets mounted to the ceiling, their nozzles pointed right at me. There was a little flickering light at the end of each, a flame no bigger than what a lighter could put out. A pilot light, I think? Was the bench and that little mat fireproof? They''d have to be if Gomorrah ever decided to cook a door-to-door salesman one day. I walked up to the door and rapped my knuckles against it in a quick ''shave and a haircut'' pattern, then I sat back on my heels and waited. It took a minute, but eventually I heard movement on the other side, and the door swung open. Delilah stood there, a frown in full view as she took a moment to scan me up and down. "Catherine?" she asked. "Yo!" I said. "I brought cookies." Apparently, people with houses brought each other gifts when visiting, which was something I was all for since people kept showing up at my place. I presented Delilah with a box of store-bought cookies, and she took them by instinct. "Uh, thank you?" she said. "What are you here for? Did you want to step in?" "Sure? If I''m not bothering? You and Franny weren''t--" "Franny isn''t here right now," Delilah cut in before I could imply anything amusing. "She''s taking care of some things. What''s the visit for?" "Can''t I just stop by to say hi?" I asked as I stepped in. I couldn''t help but swivel my head around and take the place in. It was a very different style than my place. A lot more... sleek modernism. Blacks and whites all over, bright fluorescent lighting, and minimalist furniture. The living room I saw had a few sofas that looked like cushioned slabs and a fireplace that looked a bit too large for its own good. Delilah eyed me for a moment. "I suppose. But I''m inclined to suspect that something is up." "Literally nothing is up," I said as I followed her past the living room and into her kitchen. It was nice and spacious, larger even than the one at our place, but it looked... kind of empty? I guess it was because it was so clean. Not that ours was that messy, it''s just that Lucy left out some of the spice racks and frequently-used tools, and it made the space feel lived-in and used. I wasn''t sure if this kitchen here had even been used to boil water yet. "Well, you''ve been quiet for nearly a week, which is the longest time I''ve ever not seen you causing trouble," Delilah said as she sat on a stool. She gestured for me to take another and I did. "Are you really just laying back and taking a proper break?" "Eh, so so? I''ve been fixing my mech, which is taking a surprisingly long time. It got chewed up good, you know? Gonna be a while before it''s back to a usable shape. And other than that, I don''t know what I have to really do. That''ll probably change soon, though." "Oh?" Delilah asked. "Are you planning something? Also, do you want anything to drink?" I considered it for a second, then shrugged. "Sure. Anything would do. And yeah Lucy''s going to this school. Uh, CIAL, with the big campus right next to New Montreal." "I know of it," Delilah said. "I have a few friends that have gone there." "Really?" I asked. She came back with a can of soda from the fridge and I popped the tab. She nodded. "Of course. The school I lived in only covers education up to a certain level. Early college, at most. Those who want further education need to go to a school that specializes in whatever subject they''re particularly interested in. CIAL is one of the better-reputed schools in the region." The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "Right, I guess that makes sense. Not all the mini-nuns at your nunnery are there to become... mega nuns?" "Please just... remove all religious vocabulary from your mind. It''ll save the whole world a headache," she said. "But in essence, yes. I''m not from an orphanage, Cat. The others, like Franny and the other sisters you met, have families outside of the dormitories. A lot of those have corporate ties and would like to see their daughters rise up the ranks, and that can mean a good post-secondary education. What surprises me in all of this is Lucy taking the time to get an education." "Hey, it''s not just her," I said. Delilah stared at me. "You''re going to school as well?" "Yeah? Why are you looking at me like that?" "I can''t imagine you sitting down in a classroom for more than three minutes without someone dying," Delilah said. "Does... does the school know how much trouble they''re inviting?" "They know, and I think they want it," I said. "Look, I''m only taking classes that seem kinda interesting, and I''m gonna bail the second it''s boring. I''m mostly there because Lucy wants to go, and I want to make sure no one gets any ideas." Delilah eyed me for a bit, then shrugged. "Fine. Can''t say it''s entirely a bad idea. With things globally quieting down I suppose we all need to find something productive to do with our time." "Yeah," I agreed. "What about you, then? What are you doing with your ample free time?" "I''ve been focusing on myself, in part," Delilah said. "Some time off has been good for me, I think. But also, I have been studying a fair bit in my free time, and I''ve started to assist a few volunteer programs across the city." "Really? You know, community service done before the crime doesn''t count, right?" I asked. She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I''m aware. I''m doing it for the actual good of the community, however. It''s one of the few things that I actually genuinely enjoy doing." "What''re you studying, then?" I asked. "Philosophy," she replied. It was incredible how a single word could almost put me asleep all on its own. "The philosophy of burning things?" I asked. "Or is that more a therapy thing?" "You jest, but I''m serious. We have great power. Some would say that that power comes with a moral cost. That we have to use that power to assist and improve the lives of others." "I don''t know. Every oligarch I''ve ever seen had had great power, and they seemed pretty happy on their super yachts and mega mansions," I said. "Some would say that they''ve failed." "Some people wouldn''t be heard over the live orchestra they can hire to play a symphony every time they take a shit," I countered. Delilah sniffed. "And this is why we need philosophy." "Sure," I said. "So, did you find anything more interesting than ''rich people bad'' in your studies, or was that the whole of it?" "No, it''s more than that," she said. "How much do you actually care?" "I mean... I came here, with cookies and everything. I don''t just do that for people I''m not friends with, you know?" I tried. Delilah eyed me for a few long seconds, then shook her head. "You''re a weird woman, Catherine." "That''s not very nun-like of you to say," I said. "Currently, I''m studying the philosophical principles of interconnected ignorance. It''s less a philosophy and more... a repeated observation about human nature, I suppose. Essentially, it posits that at certain times, a group of people or a network collectively lacks knowledge or hold a misconception as truth, and due to their shared ignorance, they reinforce their belief in the wrong conjecture." I nodded sagely. "I know most of those words," I said. "Just not in that order." "Yes, I think the ignorance part of the entire idea is one you encapsulate well," she shot back. "Hey now, I can at least tell when I''m being insulted, most of the time," I said. "So, what''s all that got to do with the price of butter?" "Not very much, but it does suggest that... let''s sit down in the living room. I need a black coffee and better seating if I''m actually going to cover this with the likes of you." *** Interlude Lucy - School Days Interlude Lucy - School Days Lucy looked at herself in the mirror, then gave a little spin. CIAL had their own uniform. From what she understood, and from what she saw, there were some strict rules about what a person could and couldn''t wear, but the rules were also pretty relaxed in other ways. The school sold uniforms, and the prices were... well, they weren''t cheap. 15,000 credits for a blazer made her skin crawl. It wasn''t that much, in the grand scheme of things, but it was enough that she recoiled from the very idea of spending that much. Fortunately, they had a cheaty device that could print just about anything, and a cheeky Myalis to help create 3d files for said printer. The official CIAL uniform included a blazer, with different colours for different years, pants or a skirt, and all-black shoes. Her uniform was all-black, except for a few shiny white lines running along the seams of her blazer and along the edge of her skirt. Her official school shoes had red laces that stood out rather starkly. Black and white like that meant that she was the lowest level of student at the school. Or something like that. There were different marks as a person rose in ranks and years. She suspected that that was on purpose. It didn''t mean anything, but it created a quick visual hierarchy that she imagined a certain type of person would quickly become obsessed with. Reaching down, she tugged her thigh-high socks up a bit. The trick with those was to have them stop just short of the hem of her skirt. That little bit of squished thigh? That shit would drive any gay girl mad. Lucy grinned at herself. She felt... strangely pretty. Not that she''d ever thought of herself as not pretty, but... being able to move as she wanted to, without the shakes, the aches in her legs, the sudden waves of tiredness? It felt empowering. Plus, the better diet and self care meant that her skin was practically glowing. She ran her hands through her hair, puffing it out a little--getting her hair to sit in anything but some variation of a curly fro was a lost cause--and then she picked up a purse and slung it over her shoulder. It was shaped like a big poofy cat''s head, and was very cute. Plus, she needed a place to put her gun. It was one of those Foxteeth that Cat had given to all of the Kittens a while back. She figured she wouldn''t need it, but it was better to be safe than sorry. A touch at her neck, where that necklace Cat had given her lay, and she was ready. "What do you think?" she asked the presence behind her. A large form peeled itself out of nothing, revealing a mechanized cat whose head came up to mid-waist on her. The P.U.S.S Model Y shifted, then stretched. It looked like a bengal tiger, if bengal tigers came equipped with several machine guns and a rocket launcher. This one was the one she usually found following her around the house, or when she had to go downstairs to check on something. Not that it was easy to spot, being invisible and deathly quiet. She only knew it was around sometimes because it opened doors behind her and elevators took a moment longer to close than they should have. There were four more of the same model around the house. Maybe. Probably. She''d never seen them all in the same place. She supposed that others might have been worried, living in a home with so many invisible things able to rip them to shreds, but Lucy felt like it was rather comforting. With a final nod to herself, and a brilliant smile that she usually saved for Cat, she flumped out of the bedroom. She found Cat waiting for her by the elevator, back leaning against the wall, eyes glazed over in that way that meant she was looking at something on her augs. "Oh, you dressed up too?" Lucy asked. She let her gaze trail up and down Cat''s body in a way that some people would call lecherous. Those people would be correct. Cat was in a tight shirt with a long collar, like a turtleneck but with exposed shoulders. Said shoulders were well exposed because Cat had let her blazer fall back, it was only staying on because her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her cargo pants. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Those weren''t regulation. Nor was the handcannon strapped to Cat''s thigh. Her cargo pants were high-waisted with a thin little belt, and were bunched up at the calf. "Looking dangerous," Lucy purred. Cat snorted, then blinked whatever was on her augs away. She stared at Lucy. Really stared. Lucy felt her grin widening. She didn''t like it when strangers looked at her like she was a fresh piece of meat, but when Cat stared and fought back a blush like that? Yeah, that made Lucy feel a certain way. "That''s a lot of cat themed stuff," Cat finally said. "You like it?" Lucy asked. She pulled her blazer open a little, revealing a simple t-shirt with the Stray Cat logo on it. "I printed it special!" She walked over, then gave Cat a quick hug. Then she leaned in and whispered into her ear. "The skirt is hiding other cat-themed things too," she said. "Ah," Cat replied. Lucy held back a giggle. Teasing Cat was her number one favourite activity. The results of teasing Cat was her number two favourite activity. But none of that right now, she didn''t want to arrive at school all messed up for her first day. "Are we heading out soon?" she asked. "I was waiting for you," Cat said. "Did you get that class schedule thing from the VP?" "Yup! Culinary classes first thing in the morning, then political sciences in the afternoon. There''s like, two hours between the classes, which feels like a lot." "Yeah, I guess. I loaded up the Nyanzerfaust''s broken leg into the Bastion. I can tinker with that during the break," Cat said. "Got combat in the morning and then the same class as you in the afternoon. Wild how we just happened to be invited over just as all these classes are starting up in the middle of a semester, huh?" "Yup, wild," Lucy said with a grin. They headed downstairs where the Bastion was waiting for them. "Do you think we should paint it yellow?" Lucy asked. "Paint it yellow? The Bastion?" Cat asked. "Lucy, I''m not painting my awesome mech carrier school bus yellow." "Aww, but it would be topical." "It would stick out like a sore thumb," Cat said. "It''s a twenty-five metre long flying brick with cat ears and more guns than a tank," Lucy pointed out. "It''s less like a sore thumb and more like... a sore hand? Wait... a sore arm? Let me workshop that analogy a little more. Point is, it''s not subtle!" "And painting it yellow would make it even less subtle," Cat pointed out. Lucy laughed as she found her seat in the cockpit and watched Cat expertly and easily turn the ship on and start to pilot it out of the garage. "Sure, but that could be a good thing. It''s like... a frog." "A frog. If you convince Myalis to change my name and theme to frogs I''m walking off the roof," Cat said. "I''ve got enough trouble with the whole cat stuff all over. You know she''d somehow cover all of my crap in slimy goop just because it''s thematic." "I meant more like, you know, poisonous frogs are colourful to tell people that they''re dangerous," Lucy said. "Yeah, and machinery and buses are yellow to warn people not to get in their way for the same reason," Cat said. "The NMT buses aren''t yellow," Lucy pointed out. "They might have been once, but now they''re all shit coloured from flying through too much smog," Cat said. They argued about buses and paint schemes for a while, at least until the CIAL campus came into view ahead on the wide screen in front of Cat and they started to descend towards the main plaza of the campus. Cat snorted when she noticed that someone had marked out a large rectangle, about the size of the Bastion, with several cones. They''d painted Samurai Parking in the middle of the rectangle. She came down near it, parking the Bastion an entire car-length to the side of the box. "Cat," Lucy said. "You''re doing that on purpose." "It''s funnier this way," Cat said. "C''mon, they''re using me being here for their own shit, the least I can do is poke them about it." Lucy shook her head, but she didn''t have time to argue because it would soon be time for class. *** Chapter Six - Invisible Cougars in Your Area Chapter Six - Invisible Cougars in Your Area "DANIEL (rolling eyes) Philosophy is important, Ma. It helps us understand the world. MRS. CALLAWAY (scoffs, adjusting the settings on the printer) Philosophy? Sweetheart, philosophy can''t fill your plate. You gonna eat thoughts and prayers? - CANNED LAUGH TRACK - MRS. CALLAWAY (shaking head) No, no, sweetheart. What you need is a solid education in something grounded. Something you can use. Like this handy 3D food printer, by Ceglia!" --Excerpt from Callaway''s Bunch, AI-generated prime-time drip feed media, 2035 *** Delilah had gone on about... ignorance or some such the night before. It was a lot and she was pretty excited about it, in her own little Delilah way. Anyway, it was very smart and very philosophical, and I think I forgot about half of it by the time I woke up, and most of the rest slipped by me when I saw Lucy in a short shirt and thigh highs--with the little gap--but some small bits kinda stuck, like shit in a bowl. It was gonna take more than a flush to completely erase what she''d said. I had the impression that Delilah wouldn''t have been happy about that analogy. "Are you smiling that much because you''re excited, or is it something else?" Lucy asked "Just thinking about something Delilah said," I replied with a dismissive wave. I wasn''t about to explain that joke to Lucy. "Thought it fit this whole situation well?" Lucy did that cute thing where she tilted her head a smidge, like a curious puppy who didn''t quite get something. I just smiled, then slipped past her and deeper into the Bastion. I decided to exit out from one of the bays in the middle of the ship, just because. It was easier for the smaller cat drones that would keep an eye on Lucy to follow that way. I think she knew about one of them, but not the other two. Sure, one was probably enough, but what if someone suicidal made an actual attempt to hurt Lucy? All it would take is a group coming in from multiple angles for a single cat droid to not be enough. So three it was. One was a bigger model, and two of them were the smaller dumbasses that I''d been using for a while. I wasn''t sure how many I''d bought this far, but there always seemed to be one around the house. It was only strange because I don''t think I''d ever bought one at our place, which begged the question of how they got home. As we stepped out, I could make out a crowd of students milling not too far away. They were keeping to the far end of the cobbled road from the Bastion, which was probably pretty wise. "Myalis, can we make sure the point defence on the ship doesn''t shoot anyone if they try something mildly stupid?" I muttered. And if the thing they attempt is more than mild? "I mean... a warning shot to start?" There was a loud and rather ominous ka-clunk from the ship behind and above me. Primary cannon armed. "You''re so fucking cute," I said. "I think she''s very cute," Lucy said as she stepped up next to me. "I don''t know what she actually looks like, but I''m sure it''s very pretty. Maybe she has a little bow on top of her... circuit board, or whatever?" "Your lack of computer knowledge is showing," I said. Lucy stuck her tongue out at me and poked my cheek in punishment. Please let Lucy know that I am, in fact, adorable. You may also start adoring me at your leisure. I didn''t, in fact, tell her that, instead I gestured with a nod towards a familiar face approaching us through the crowd. "Looks like the VC is here to say hi," I said. The Vice Principal ran over while adjusting the fit of his jacket. He put on a brave smile as he stopped nearby. "Hello and good morning," he said. "I''m happy to see you both here." "Hey," I said. "You got here fast." "We had some of the information security department monitoring social media feeds. A few students around New Montreal noticed your... rather distinct vessel and so I knew to be ready for you. Ah, you''ll note that we marked out a nice area for you to park in. It''s right over here." He gestured about five metres next to the Bastion. "Oh, that''s nice," I said. "See," Lucy said. "It doesn''t matter if your ship''s yellow or not, people notice it all the same." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "We''re not painting it yellow," I said with a laugh. The VC chuckled along too, which was weird, because there was no way he was in on the joke. Weird little man. "In any case, welcome to your first day at CIAL as students. I see that you''ve taken to our uniforms. That''s... quite nice. It looks good on you." He only paused for a split second on seeing the Trenchmaker strapped to my leg. No comment though, which was a point in his favour. "So, I took the liberty of finding two students who happen to have the same classes as you this morning. I''m certain you could find your way over yourselves, but this will make it a little easier, I think." I glanced past the vice principal and finally noticed two students that had followed him but who had stayed a respectable distance behind. A boy and a girl. They were... kinda weird. Not bad looking. Actually, it was the opposite. I wasn''t one to judge a guy''s looks, but the dude looked pretty handsome, in that blonde-hair, blue eyes and square jaw kind of way. A real Clark-Kent sort, with the nerdy glasses that were definitely a fashion statement and the school blazer. The girl next to him was a tall brunette with a dancer''s physique who wore the school uniform real well, though her skirt was at least a modest length compared to what Lucy had on. "This is Ethan Parker, and Olivia Bennett," the Vice Principal said as he gestured to the boy and girl in turn. "They''re freshmen students, as you are, but both of them have been through most of their formative education right here at CIAL." "A pleasure to meet you," Ethan said. "Hello. Welcome to CIAL," Olivia added. "Hi!" Lucy replied with a cute little wave. "It''s nice that you thought about that. I was worried I might get lost. The campus map looks pretty good, but the free trial version I found didn''t have everything. It''ll be great to have someone to guide me around. Um, since we''re going to different classes... who''s going with who?" "Ah, yes, you want to know with whom you''re going. Miss Leblanc, you''ll be guided to your culinary courses by Mister Parker here. As for you, Miss Stray Cat, I hope you and Olivia get along on your way to your morning Tactics and Combat courses." I shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah, sure," I said. We were... actually running a little late and should probably have arrived twenty minutes ago if we wanted to be there on time. "Let''s head out, then?" I asked. "Yeah!" Lucy said. I grinned, then bent down to give her cheek a rather chaste kiss. "Stay safe. If anyone gives you trouble, shoot them first and don''t let anyone ask questions." She rolled her eyes, not noticing the VP''s constant smile turning nervous. "I''ll do my best. I can''t imagine culinary classes are that dangerous. Right Ethan?" The boy started at being addressed so suddenly. Then Lucy was flouncing along and he had to catch up. "So, did you grow up on campus or have you just been going here for like, elementary and high school? How''s it been treating you? Oh, and do you do any sports? You look like the sort." And she was off. Unless the school chose real carefully, she''d have that moron eating out of her hand by the time they reached class and waiting on her hand and foot by the end of the week. "Olivia, right?" I asked the girl. At her nod, I smiled back, then gave the VP a sloppy salute. "See you around, then." "Have a good lesson," he replied. Olivia returned my smile, then gestured to the side. "It''s right this way, Miss Stray Cat. May I call you that?" "Sure," I said. "But just Cat''s fine too. It''s what everyone calls me," I said. She nodded. "Thank you! Of course, call me Olivia! The Miss this, and Mister that, it''s all kind of formal. CIAL appreciates the opportunity to keep old traditions going, but it''s also a multicultural space, where students are free to express themselves and grow into their own." "Uh-huh," I said, not letting my emotions show. "Tell me more." "I''d love to! CIAL is one of the more prominent ivy-league establishments in the world, but it''s not just known for its educational and academic excellence, it''s a place for culture and art to flourish," Olivia continued. "Wow," I said, flatly. "You know, I think once you graduate, some corp is gonna be real happy to have you." If everyone here was like this chick, I was getting back in my ship and fucking right off. *** Chapter Seven - Where Rules Bend to Power Chapter Seven - Where Rules Bend to Power "The biggest detriment to a proper, rigid school system where education is standardized to the degree we wish it to be, are teachers that refuse to comply with our standards." --CIAL board meeting, 2051 *** Olivia seemed to go quiet after a while of walking through the campus. I noticed that once we were away from the Bastion, the number of stares I was getting decreased pretty sharply. I guess I was sorta fitting in, what with the ridiculous uniform and all that. Still, I was pretty sure I''d never fit in fully. There was just this feeling in the air as I walked past yet another group of students. Actually, group was putting it lightly. The people I saw here were usually on their own. Some of them were moving in pairs, or in little cliques, but more often than not they were alone, and from the look in their eyes, they were alone in their headspace too. I wasn''t sure what to make of that, but I decided to file it away for later. Maybe it was just too early in the morning for most of these folk, but people where I was from generally tried not to be caught out in the open alone like this. It was asking for trouble. "So, where''s this Combat and Tactics class anyway?" I asked. "Just this way," Olivia said. "It''s in one of the main gymnasium buildings. CIAL has several alumni who are Olympic athletes, and it has professional college teams in hockey, volleyball, American football, soccer, several esports, drone racing, and we have one of the largest pickleball teams in North America!" I sighed. "Okay, that''s nice," I said. "You know, you don''t need to sound so much like an advertisement." Olivia glanced at me from the corner of her eyes. "I''m just doing my part to highlight the values of the school I love and cherish so much," she said with the perkiness of someone who''d just taken a bite into a happy pill. "Uh-huh," I said. I couldn''t say she was a bad guide, however, because we made it to our destination soon enough. The gymnasium building was a rather large one, with a curved roof covered in solar panels between large windows and a front that opened into a large lobby space with free seating and a concession stand to the side. It reminded me more of a mini sports arena than the kind of gym someone might go to lift heavy things and put them back down. "Students entering a CIAL facility need to approach the door-side scanner," Olivia said as she walked us up to the main doors. There was a blocky black thing next to it. "By scanning the scanner here with your CIAL student app on your augs, you can confirm that you''re allowed within a space and unlock the auto-locking doors." "Okay," I said. Pretty normal feeling level of security, I supposed. "Ah, have you subscribed to the app yet? It''s a quick and easy process, most of the questions aren''t intrusive at all. I''m afraid that I can only open the door for myself." I stared at her, one eyebrow raised, then looked at the scanner again. There was one of those QR code things on it, and starring had my augs pop open a prompt. Want In? Use your CIAL-Pass Student eID to enter now! CLICK HERE to download the app now! I clicked, out of curiosity, and was immediately frustrated when it opened up a seven-page questionnaire that started with questions about my date of birth and social security number and address, and seemed to end with questions about the number of hours I slept per night. In the middle were some places to attach files, from recently taken pictures of myself, to my medical records. "Fuck that," I said. "Myalis, can you fuck this thing up?" I could, easily, but I feel like you wouldn''t actually want me to crash the entire thing. I rolled my eyes. "Can you just get me in?" I asked. "Please? And maybe help Lucy." Oh, I helped her already. She asked nicely to begin with. I didn''t even have to tease her into being polite. Sometimes I wonder if I picked the wrong idiot. "Hey, who''re you calling an idiot?" I asked. Olivia stared at me, clearly not ready for a samurai arguing with the ghostly AI in their head. I have more thoughts in a minute than your entire species has in a year. It''s all relative, Catherine. Don''t worry, I still like you. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. I was about to grumble some more, but the door shifted open in front of me, and I decided to take the win where I could. Olivia waited outside for the door to close before it reopened for her, then she caught up and gestured ahead. "Right this way," she said. "I think you''ll be impressed. Our teachers for this lesson all have impressive pedigrees." "Teachers, plural?" I asked. Olivia answered. "The primary teacher will be able to explain things better, I think." She led me over to a pair of double doors at the back of the lobby, then down a short corridor until, finally, we entered a classroom... of sorts. The room has a few rows of seats and small uncomfortable tables that looked like they were meant to fold into the floor. The rest of the room had that kind of bouncy-looking flooring that I''d usually seen in like, indoor basketball courses, but without any sort of markings on it. The kind of flooring that made loud squeaks if you stopped on it suddenly. The seats were mostly filled, and I got my first look at the other students taking the class. There was definitely a male skew to things. Of the almost thirty others, at least twenty were guys. The rest were women, or people whose gender I couldn''t guess at with a glance. The age was a little older than I expected. It looked like Olivia and I would be on the younger side, because while only a few of the folk here look like they were older, in their forties and the like, the rest seemed to be in their later twenties or early thirties at least. Two men in different uniforms were talking at the front of the class. When the older of the two saw us entering, he patted his buddy on the shoulder, then walked over. "Thank you, Miss Bennet," he said. "I''ll take it from here." "Of course, Professor Rogers," Olivia said. She smiled at me, then walked up towards the front of the class where a pair of seats had been left open. "Hey," I said to the prof. "You''re one of the teachers, then?" "I am," he said with a nod. "Professor Rogers, formerly a captain of the US Armed forces, then a private military contractor for twenty years." The dude looked like he was in his mid fifties or so, but he was still fit, even if he had a bit of a gut. "Alright," I said. "I''m Stray Cat, but folks just call me Cat." "Good," he said. "I wanted to talk before class started. The school is making a lot of exceptions to have you here. Personally, I''m not fond of that. It''s disruptive. At the same time, I''ve had a long enough career that I know that sometimes breaking patterns is exactly the right thing to do." "Alright," I said. "I get what you''re saying. I''m not even sure I''ll be sticking around." He nodded. "I''ve done what I can to cut out anything from my course that I thought might be superfluous. There''s a lot that we emphasize that won''t apply to a samurai. An entire module of the class is about chains of command and working under the auspice of an incapable superior, for example. Or handling situations where logistics have fallen, or situations where current armaments are insufficient." I nodded slowly. Yeah I could see why he thought none of that would apply to a samurai. I could kinda see how it might but then I wouldn''t want to waste an afternoon on a very niche scenario. "A lot of problems can be solved when you can summon a nuke with one sentence," I said. One of his eyebrows perked up at that, but he nodded, conceding the point. "I think you see what I meant. If there''s any time where a course feels like it''s covering something unnecessary, please approach me after class and we''ll skip ahead." "What about the rest?" I asked with a gesture to the other students. "Can''t imagine them being happy about it." "They''ll cover it with their homework, or additional classes. As I said, the school is making a lot of concessions to make this as smooth as possible." "Damn," I said. He nodded. "Find a seat, if you would. Class will start in a couple of minutes. Again, we can talk afterwards to make sure things are up to your expectations." "Alright, thanks Prof," I said. He chuckled. "I''ve had my ass saved by some samurai a time or two. I''d like to think of this as returning the favour, in a small way." *** Chapter Eight - Cat Skips the Ethics Module Chapter Eight - Cat Skips the Ethics Module "I think it''s high time that we acknowledge that much of our educational system is dedicated to teaching things that have no real-world importance, purely for the sake of indoctrinating our youth! What use does a scientist or future businessman have in Ethics? It''s nothing but an excuse for the intolerant leftist to fill the minds of our youth with their twisted ideals!" --Jim Reeds, the ''Real Man Podcast'' 2029 *** Professor Rogers stepped up to the front of the class, then narrowed his eyes as he looked across all of the students. In the meantime, I moved to the very back and smacked the floor with the tip of my shoe. The desks were meant to fold in and out of the floor, along with the chairs. Obviously so that the floorspace could be used for other shit later on. There was a seat open for me next to Olivia way out at the front, and I sure as shit wasn''t going to be sitting there. The Professor cleared his throat. "We''ll be starting now," he said. "Yeah yeah," I muttered before bending down. Oh. There was a little clasp thing. Yeah, that made sense. I pulled on it, then the seat and desk unfolded out of the floor all nice and easy like. "I don''t think we''re supposed to add seats," some guy said. "First rule of combat class," I shot back. "Don''t do the expected thing." Then I sat my ass down and gestured to the professor. "Present." He breathed out of his nose in what might have been a laugh, but it was also perfectly deniable. "Good. Now that everyone is seated. Let''s begin. This is a special class of Combat and Tactics. We will be covering some material not usually covered, skipping some that is, and handing out far more homework than usual. If you''ve signed up for this class in particular, then you know what''s going on." He gestured, and the digital blackboard behind him lit up with a sort of powerpoint presentation. "We''re skipping the history modules, the legalities of armed engagement module, and the ethics module. Instead, our first three weeks, which are usually split between the above, will be dedicated to the other two modules that we usually cover." Two of the remaining modules on the list were highlighted. "Basic battlefield tactics, and physical combat. This first lesson will be on the former. Tomorrow''s class will be on the latter. Which means that when you come into class tomorrow, please bring the appropriate clothing and safety equipment. For those of you who have chosen to wear glasses, bring safety goggles. In fact, bring those anyway even if they''re not on the list, there''s always someone that gets an aug poked." One of the students raised a hand by the front, and Rogers pointed to him. "Will we be covering any martial art in particular?" "The primary art taught alongside this class is Keep Safe, the corporate martial art. Obviously, that art has areas where most people find it deficient, we''ll be supplementing that with grappling, traditional wrestling, boxing, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and some Krav Maga. Does that answer your question?" "Yes sir," the student said. I felt a nervous pit in my stomach at that. Martial arts? I''d swung a punch or two in my day, and I wasn''t exactly unfit. I had protein in my diet and everything nowadays. But against someone with formal training? Yeah, I was gonna be swallowing my teeth. I eyed the students. It was hard to tell, from behind, but I''d safely say that the average in this room skewed towards the more fit side of the spectrum. Some of the dudes looked like they were seven feet tall and able to wrestle a train. I opened my Aug app and added a note to myself for later. ''Get martial arts training thing.'' There, that would do for now. "Let''s begin with our primary focus for this semester, then," Roger said. "Basic battlefield tactics." Reaching over to the side of a desk, he pulled out a thin book. It wasn''t very impressive to look at. The cover was stained and the whole thing looked waterlogged. "Sun Tzu said that all warfare is based on deception. He was and is correct. Moving into the 21st century, humanity came face-to-face with an enemy that wasn''t other humans." The slide behind him changed, showing pictures of several antithesis, charging in the direction of the camera man. It had a very renaissance feel to it, the way they were all laid out to fill the frame. "The lessons in combat and warfare that we learned previously and honed over hundreds of years were tested, and surprisingly, they were not found wanting. Our equipment needed to be changed and our attitudes adjusted, but the fundamentals of warfare remain the same. That is, that every war can be won before the first bullet is fired. Sun Tzu." If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The screen flicked over to a list of numbered quotes. 1 - All warfare is based on deception 2 - Know thy enemy and know thyself 3 - Subdue the enemy without fighting "Take these down, if you''re the note-taking type," Rogers said. "All warfare is based on deception. If your enemy, be they the antithesis, another nation, a rival corporation, or rebelling workforce, knows what you''re doing, then you''re already losing. In the corporate world, that means misinformation campaigns, corporate espionage, cyberwarfare, and press manipulation. In a war against the plants, it means having functional advanced warning systems and troops ready for deployment." The first quote expanded, taking up the top of the powerpoint. All warfare is based on deception. "We often paint our enemies as stupid and inefficient. They are both a menace and idiotic. A threat, and someone you can laugh at. Humans are good at holding two contradictory ideas as if they are self-evident. Most of the time, we don''t even realize it. If you approach a tactical situation with that kind of dichotomy in your knowledge, then you''re giving your foe a massive advantage. Deception means fooling your adversary. Deceptive warfare means knowing when you are being fooled, most of all by your own preconceptions." He reached up and the slide changed again. "We''ll be covering three examples today, and more will be slid into your assigned reading. The first is ancient history. Operation Mincemeat, conducted in 1943. During World War II, the British needed to convince Nazi Germany that they were invading Greece and Sardinia instead of their actual target¡ªSicily. So what did they do? They took a dead man, dressed him up as a British officer, and loaded him with fake invasion plans. Then they dropped him in the water near Spain, where they knew the Germans would find him. The Nazis bought it. They shifted their defenses away from Sicily, sent reinforcements to the wrong locations, and left the real invasion site vulnerable. One dead body. One forged document. Thousands of lives saved. A whole war shifted. Obviously, this wasn''t the only plan similar to this. Often-times in war, you need to take a scattershot approach, attempt to deceive your enemy in several ways." Another slide clicked into place. "The Black Eye War of 2041 was a competition war between Pondsmith Biotech and Arneson Cybernetics. PB was about to launch a new model of eye-based augs and Arneson was going to launch their own. The Arneson devices were about three years ahead of the curve thanks to an alliance with a local samurai who allowed them to reverse-engineer an implant." Rogers nodded to a student who''d raise their hand. "Is that an actual war?" "Do you mean, were nations fighting? If so, no. Do you mean to ask if principles of warfare were used, then yes. People died, so I''d like to think it counts. The Black Eye War happened over the course of six months. Pondsmith''s intelligence bureau heard about the Arneson Cybernetics''s new eye and they launched a coordinated attack in three phases. First they hacked the Pondsmith supply chain, creating subtle reports about a defect in the product. Then they leaked the news to the public and threw up a fuss about it in the media. Finally, on Black Friday, when the new implants were both launching, they crashed Arneson''s stock with a seventeen trillion credit dump. It almost bankrupted Pondsmith to pull that off." "Did it work?" someone asked. "Arneson''s stock value dropped by 62% overnight. Pondsmith acquired the company three months later, then sold the non-defective stock out for a premium. The models they sold became the most commonly used eye-aug in North America for half a decade." Roger switched slides. "Now, let''s get into the big example. The 2048 Siege of Atlanta. One of the biggest successful pushbacks against an active incursion in our history. We''re going to go over this one day-by-day, and I''m going to be highlighting how the commanders in charge--that is, an army general, a PMC commander, and a pair of local samurai--managed to actively deceive the antithesis and lay out a trap that resulted in a clean-slate incursion wipe in only four days." I sat up in my seat. I hadn''t even realized that I was leaning forwards. Shit... maybe some folks were onto something with this learning crap. *** Interlude Lucy - School Days Part Two Interlude Lucy - School Days Part Two The introductory class was really... okay? Lucy felt, from the very start, as if she didn''t quite belong. For one, she was definitely on the younger side. Not by that much, but she''d estimate the average age to hover around the mid-twenties, and judging by the looks of the people in her class, they were definitely middle-class sorts. There was also a lot of stuff that the teacher assumes she knew already. Fortunately, while the class promised to be hands-on eventually, the opening class was pure technical knowledge. Some of it covered the equipment they would be using, and then the latter half of the class was a summary of the lesson plan for the year. She made note of anything that came up that she wasn''t aware of. A quick search online wasn''t going to plug every gap in her knowledge, but it would be better than coming in entirely blind. In any case, the class finished and according to her new best pal Ethan-the-ever-smiling Cat''s own class wasn''t going to finish for another hour. Which meant she had time. And time was opportunity, if she was willing to abuse a few things, like the school''s willingness to put up with her shit. Lucy grinned when the teacher slipped out of the classroom before anyone else had time to leave. "Hey!" she called out, her voice pitched up to catch people''s attention. "Does anyone here know how to bake cupcakes? Or like, make cookies?" That earned her a few looks, but there was someone brave enough to answer in the bunch. An older guy, maybe in his mid-thirties or so, with a well-trimmed beard and a bit of a dad bod. "I know a thing or two about baking," he said. "Miss Leblanc?" Ethan asked. The name sent a thrill down her spine. Sure, she''d initially done it to tease Cat, and it worked even better than she expected, but hearing it again now and then made the happy chemicals in her brain do a little dance. "I have a small plan, and I was wondering if anyone here would be willing to help? There''s a cool samurai mech carrier parked out by the admin building, and I think a bunch of people are worried about it. I was thinking we could help people calm down, maybe set up a sort of photo-taking thing with one of the mechs? And that''d be a lot cooler if we had free food to hand out!" "Free food?" another student asked. "I''m sure the school wouldn''t mind us... grabbing a few supplies. I saw these super cute cupcakes the other day, with little cat ears on them! It looked easy to make!" "I don''t know if we have the school''s permission for that," Ethan said with a winning--if somewhat condescending--smile. "Perfect!" Lucy snapped. "Ethan, go get permission. You, uh, what''s your name?" "Aiden Baxter," the cupcake guy said. "Good! Aiden, you''re in charge of the cupcakes. Anyone here know how to make cookies?" Lucy asked. A woman nearby snorted. Lucy hadn''t spent the entire class just listening to the teacher''s lecture. She''d been eyeing the others as well. A few had given her looks but it was hard to do anything with your judgmentalism when in the middle of class. This woman was also one of the older students, probably in her later twenties, and she''s given off the vibes that the class was beneath her the whole time. "Thanks for volunteering!" Lucy said. "So, we should aim for a couple of hundred cookies and maybe half as many cupcakes... muffins? I''m not sure what the difference is. Do we have pre-made frosting, or should we make our own?" "A-are we really doing this?" someone asked. Lucy paused, and so did just about everyone else. This was the risky part. Once people started to act, the momentum would keep them going, even if they suspected that they might regret it, but at the moment that momentum didn''t exist yet. "If you have something real important to get to, then yeah, you''d probably be best to run along. But... I mean, this is gonna be fun! Plus we get to snub the school a bit which is always funny. But best of all, we get to help a samurai. I''m pretty sure Stray Cat is actually super worried about her image, and having her big scary mech presented with cookies and cupcakes kinda makes it seem... you know, friendly and nice?" Lucy smiled, because that lie was bold-faced bullshit. Cat had never cared much for people''s opinions. It was kinda hot, actually, the way she''d strut around with confidence up to her one eyeball, and becoming a samurai had only helped. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. "That does sound kinda badass," one of the younger guys said. "Plus, free cookies. And free training early." Lucy clapped her hands together, the sound like a gunshot because she''d been practicing her mom-clap for years. "Okay! Let''s get those ovens preheated. "Aiden, can you set things out and make sure everyone''s working on something?" "Sure, I can try," the man said with a nod. "And... wait, what''s your name again?" Lucy asked the other woman she''d singled out. "Giselle," she said. Lucy nodded sharply. "Let''s get those cookies started?" Bags were dropped down next to desks, and people actually started to move, though it was with a bit of hesitation. Ethan looked like he wanted to tell people to drop the whole thing, but Lucy levelled her best, most winsome smile at him. "Better get the VP on the same page as us, or he might be a little surprised!" Lucy said. Ethan jumped. "Oh, uh, yes, right." "And try to find tables too! I bet there''s some somewhere!" she called after his back. Now that that was handled... Lucy turned back to the class, dialed down her smile about 20%, and walked over to the first spot that looked like it had trouble brewing. A few friendly suggestions were enough to get them moving in the right direction, but the next issue had her change her stance and approached things with the final say. The students would probably be a little insulted if they knew just how much easier they were to manipulate than a bunch of unruly orphans. Lucy didn''t get too much work done herself. She helped a bit by pouring some batter into cupcake molds, and she wandered around with a garbage bag picking up after the messier students, but her job was mostly managerial. Cookies only needed fifteen minutes of baking. Cupcakes needed closer to twenty-five. That didn''t include any cool-down time that they needed before they could apply any frosting. Lucy tried her hand at making a few cookies look like little cat heads, but they looked... kind of like cats born with significant and serious birth defects. At least hers stood out amongst the much better, more standardized work the others on frosting duty could manage, even if it wasn''t in a great way. Within an hour and a half, they had a few platters filled with baked goods. Something like two hundred cupcakes and twice as many cookies. Mostly because they had ransacked the kitchen''s supplies and used all of the many ovens all at once. "Well, that was productive," Lucy said with a satisfied nod. Which is about when the Vice Principal walked in along with half a dozen members of security. The entire room froze, and Lucy could recognize that wide-eyed look of guilt anywhere. These people hadn''t ever learned how to look impassive and calm in the face of an authority figure, which was the equivalent of spilling blood in front of a hungry shark. "Oh good!" Lucy said. She scooped up a cupcake, walked up to the Vice Principal, and pushed it into his hand. "Try this out, they''re real good! Did Ethan go off to find tables for us?" "Tables?" he asked. "Well, we''re not going to stand there with handfuls of cookies, that''d be unsanitary." "I''m... afraid that the school requires certain permissions before--" "It''s fine," Lucy said. She smiled. "It''s fine. Now! Big guys! If you help us carry all of these over to the mech, we''ll give you a cookie each! How''s that sound?" she winked at the nearest security guy who seemed taken aback for a moment. The Vice Principal hesitated, but Lucy was already moving. Momentum and all that. It was important. "I suppose we have tables in storage," he finally said before looking at the cupcake. It had a little cat face on it, with fondant ears and a cute little smile. He took a tentative bite. "Perfect!" Lucy said. "Alright, everyone, grab a platter! Are there covers for these? Aiden, did you happen to see if there were, like, spare napkin packs around? People are definitely gonna need those. Come on, cooking class! Represent!" Lucy grinned. She was quite certain that Cat wasn''t having half as much fun as she was. *** Chapter Ten - Fight Like A Cat Chapter Ten - Fight Like A Cat "Modern martial arts can be split, broadly, into three categories. The first is the exercise art. A martial art that focuses in part on self-defence, but also in simply learning how to move your own body with comfort and grace. The second is the combat martial art. Less an art, and more a tool of war. Something to learn as a soldier and mercenary to better kill and fight if other weapons fail. The third is the mystical art. As people become increasingly gullible, even with a plethora of information available to them, more fall into the trapping of mysticism and magic, often disguised as a martial tradition. The first two will keep you healthy and safe, the third will empty your wallet." --Excerpt from ''Break Their Noses'' a 2039 MMA Manual *** How come one afternoon of classes felt more tiring than a whole day of shooting aliens? Actually, that was a flat lie, and a rather big exaggeration. A day spent hunting down antithesis, or holding a wall, was a lot more stressful, but the whole school thing was tiring too, in its own way. "I need a nap," Lucy said as I brought the Bastion in for a gentle landing in the parking garage. "Urgh, but the kittens need to be checked on. They had no one supervising them all morning." "Can''t be that bad," I said. "Daniel was here, and I told Junior to keep an eye open," Lucy said. "And there''s easy food in the fridge. They won''t have starved, but you just know that at least two of them started a fight or something while we were gone." "Yeah," I said. I let out a yawn and relaxed back into the pilot''s seat. "Should we head out and check on them?" I didn''t really have the energy to stand up, at the moment. Lucy grunted, then pulled herself up to standing with what looked like monumental effort. She leaned in over the pilot''s seat and gave me a kiss. "I''ll do it," she said. "Kinda asked for this." "Love you," I said. Lucy grinned, then slipped out of the cabin. I watched her go for a bit, then let out a sigh. If I was reasonable, I''d give myself a kick in the ass and get going. It wouldn''t take that much effort, really. Then I could sort through what needed sorting, get some lunch in me--because a cupcake and a cookie wasn''t a proper meal--and then see about some things. But at the moment I was mostly feeling lazy. Did you enjoy the day? "Hm? You know what? Yeah. The class was pretty... well, educational, I guess. But it was fun, overall. I''m not sure if I''ll be into this kind of thing in the long run, but for now it''s kinda neat. I can even see it being genuinely useful next time I have to deal with the antithesis. Tactics and shit. My, uh, strategies so far have mostly involved throwing shit at the wall, but that stuff about deception today? That was more refined than what I''m used to pulling." I''m glad to hear it. It might not always seem that way--mostly because teasing you is too amusing--but I do actually believe that you have some potential. It would be a shame to see it all go to waste. "Yeah," I said before I reached up and scratched at my nose. "So, uh. Hey, I''ve got that quick-mind upload wreath thing around somewhere, right?" You do. I couldn''t remember where I''d dropped it off, but it was this thing that let me download shit straight into my brain. So far I''d mostly used it to download lessons on piloting my mechs, and those had sure as shit turned out to be handy. "So, next class is physical combat stuff, and if I go out there the way I am, I''m gonna look like a fucking clown. I don''t know jack shit about like, proper martial arts. I can swing a punch like the next mean bitch, but that''s about it." I see. Yes, there are some neuro-download lessons that encompass various martial arts. I would advise against learning more than one at the moment. In fact, learning more than one in a relatively short period might be detrimental. "Detrimental how?" I asked. Most martial arts teach you how to move beyond just how to throw mean bitch punches. This can include anything from how to walk to how to position yourself during your every day so that you''re more ready to move into a combat-ready state. Unfortunately, as various martial arts focus on different movesets, learning multiple at the same time can lead you to having conflicting new instincts with regards to how to stand, sit, walk and generally carry out your day. "Yeah, okay, I can kinda see how that would work out. Or wouldn''t work out, as the case may be. I don''t want to be tripping over my feet and bleeding from the nose at the same time." Stolen novel; please report. You wouldn''t have to worry about the latter. This is safe. I''m merely suggesting that you use this technology at a reasonable pace. We don''t need you straining what sanity you have. I nodded along. That sounded reasonable enough to me. "So, what I''m looking for is... honestly? Something that''ll let me kick ass." A lot of the martial arts I could give you access to would allow you to kick a number of asses, however, more often than not a martial art is a multiplicative added on top of the baseline for ass-kicking that is a person''s physicality. "What''s that mean?" I asked. It means... imagine two people. One of them is short, in poor health, very young, and has no physical conditioning. They have never exercised before. The other is tall, fit, has a balanced and careful diet and is at their peak age for physical labour. Given the same exact martial knowledge, who would fare better in combat. "Assuming all the rest is the same, tall and buff," I said. "Obviously. And I''m guessing what you''re saying is that I can only kick as many asses as my body can handle?" More or less. Using the same example, if you were to give the first person top-tier martial training and the other no training at all, the untrained but fit individual would still likely come out on top of any given fight, but their chances would be lowered somewhat. "Okay," I said. "So maybe I lower my bar down from being able to kick everyone in my classes ass to just being... not-embarassing?" A far more achievable, if still difficult, bar to aim for. "You''re saying I''m still going to embarrass myself?" I asked. There aren''t enough Antithesis in the system to earn the points necessary to prevent such. I rolled my eyes. Cheeky bitch. "Alright, let''s talk options." Very few of your catalogues have martials arts built into them, but there is one. Your Sunwatcher Technologies catalogue is broad enough to feature a few. Not that you couldn''t simply buy an inexpensive catalogue aimed at learning a single martial art. A very narrow catalogue aimed at learning a specific human martial art would be relatively inexpensive. "You mean I could just download kung-fu for cheap?" I asked. Yes. Exactly. Real tempting, actually. "What do you think would be suitable for me, though?" I asked. I''d suggest picking one of two directions. Either a broad, mixed-martial art that covers a range of combat styles and situations, or a modern martial art designed for anti-antithesis combat. The kind of martial art taught to those fighting lower-tier Antithesis. If you''re aiming for the latter, then you could choose some Sunwatcher martial arts as well. "Wouldn''t their martial arts have, uh, compatibility issues?" I asked. A few. I''d adjust the art on the fly to make it work. No worries. The advantage being, of course, that none of the students you train with will be aware of your style and its broad moveset. "That is a pretty big advantage, I''ll bet." And, the martial art will carry over to tailed-combat in your mechs. It''s as suitable to bipedal combat as it is to quadruped. Of course, you''ll still have to pick an art. "Isn''t Sunwatcher... the art?" I asked. Do you think that every non-human race is a monolith? The history of the Sunwatchers stretches further back than humanity''s by millenia. They have a much broader culture with a longer written history to pull from. "Alright, fair enough," I said. "So is humanity like... a little baby culture?" The littlest, babiest of them. "Thanks," I said. "Okay, fine. How many are we talking about here?" Six thousand complete martial arts. Do you want me to narrow that list down for you? "I think I''d like that, yeah," I said. "Get me something flashy but effective." That''s contradictory. "Look, if it doesn''t look intimidating, then what even is the point?" I asked. I think I have something, then. The Moonlight Claw arts. It''ll be difficult on your flesh hand, but still doable, especially if you wear a glove. Quite flashy, and very effective. I nodded along. I was liking the sound of that. "Cool! So... where did I put that wreath anyway? I haven''t the faintest clue where I left it, but I swear I saw it recently." There was an electronic sigh in my ear. I''ll guide you to it. Myalis truly was the best, some of the time. Was this what having a mom was like? *** Chapter Eleven - A Duel at Dawn Chapter Eleven - A Duel at Dawn "Breakfast is the mmmmmost immmmportant mmmeal of the day! Mmmmraw! Touch mmmine and you''re a dead mmmmotherfucker!" --Marvin the Marmoset, Marmo-Os mascot, 2054 *** "Cat! Nose stole my spatula and won''t give it back!" Lucy called out from the kitchen. I blinked, trying to process all of that. It was... seven forty in the morning, which meant it was way too early to deal with anything strenuous. Last night had had me laying on our bed, downloading a few terabytes of kung fu straight into my brain, and at the moment I was suffering the morning-after consequences of that. Basically, I felt like I was dizzy, without being dizzy. I blinked as Nose came running out of the kitchen, spatula held proudly before him like some sort of trophy. The little shit was grinning the grin of a victor. So I swept in low, spinning my hips around and bending one knee so that my centre of gravity lowered even as my leg shifted outwards. I held back at the end, slowing down so that my low kick was more like a low bump that caught Nose''s shin just hard enough to send him flying. Then, since I was low already, I reached around and caught him around the torso, one arm grabbing him around the front, the other snacking through his arms to lock him in place. I landed on my shoulder, with the little shit stuck in a headlock. "Gotcha, bitch!" I said. "No!" Nose shouted, then he started to squeal like a pig caught in a bear trap. "Lemme go! I don''t want eggs again!" "What are you on about?" I asked as I put my new grappling techniques to good use and kept the little shit locked in place. Eventually I caught him so that I had a hand free, and I was able to pluck the spatula away. "I''m tired of eggs! It''s all Lucy ever makes in the morning!" he whined. "What? Bitch, are you some little rich corpo shit that gets to pick what he eats in the morning? You''re going to eat what Lucy puts on your plate and you''re gonna be happy about it! The secret ingredient is love! The secret spice is my boot up your ass!" Nose squirmed for a while, but he eventually conceded defeat against my superior strength. It was good to put my new martial arts to the test, even if it was just on a precocious little asshole that lived under my roof and who wasn''t happy eating my breakfast. I freed Nose, gave his behind a (not so) firm kick, then plucked the spatula off the floor where it had ended up in our tussle. "Lucky little shit," I griped. "If my heart wasn''t made of gold I''d beat you black and blue!" Nose ran down the corridor, stopped, then took a moment to flash me both middle fingers before he scurried off. Shaking my head, I slipped into the kitchen where I found Lucy hard at work overseeing breakfast. There was toast in the toaster, eggs sizzling on a buttered pan, and a large pot of beans was slowly warming up. "Just toss that in the sink," she said without looking back. "And I''m not making bacon. That shit throws up grease all over, it''s a pain to clean and it''s honestly kind of scary to cook." I tossed the spatula into the sink, then swept in behind Lucy and tipped her back so that I could better plant some kisses along the side of her neck. "Did I tell you that you''re beautiful today?" I asked. "Not yet, but I could stand to hear it a few more times," she said before turning her head to give me a kiss that made me forget everything for a moment. "Ah, go sit down. I don''t want to burn any of this. You can have the first serving, for valiantly saving my spatula. What did Nose want, anyway?" "He said he was tired of eggs," I said. "What? But it''s food!" Lucy said. "We treat these kids too well. We should see if they like a diet that''s nothing but corp chow." "I know!" I said with a shake of my head. I sat down at the table and watched Lucy work while rubbing at the back of my neck. There was a small jack there, connected to all the augs and shit shoved into my brain. It had gotten a little warm. Not uncomfortably so, but... still a little weird feeling. I wasn''t sure I liked the impression that there was something hot inside of my head. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. But the results... I picked up a fork from the table and tossed it up, then I caught it out of the air between thumb and forefinger before flicking it back up. It was weird. My reflexes were fine before, but now it was like... I actually knew how to use my own body? The knowledge was more instinctive than anything else, though. I thought about doing something, and now my body knew the motions it needed to go through to do that thing. There was some brute knowledge there too. How to punch and hit and how to deflect a blow... I think Myalis crammed some biology in my head as well, for good measure. "Here you go," Lucy said as she put a plate in front of me. I jumped a little, having been stuck in my head while still tossing the fork up and around. "You okay?" "Yeah, sorry," I said. "New brain stuff has me feeling a bit off. But I think some running around and doing shit will settle it all down." "Do you have phys-ed in class today?" Lucy asked. "I guess so?" I said. "Is combat training physical ed? It feels like it kind of is, right?" Lucy and I stared at each other, and then she shrugged. "I guess? I don''t think I have anything like that. Today we''re going to be learning how to safely use some of the things in the kitchen, which does sound nice. We have a bunch of things here that I don''t even know what they''re called. Like... there''s a food processor, right? But like, it doesn''t process anything? It''s weird." "I''ll take your word for it," I said as I started to chow down. "Any more plans with regards to taking over the school?" Lucy thought about it. "Nah. Not today. You can''t push too fast with this kind of thing, because then people start to feel like you have an agenda. It''s better to wait for the school to mess up and to ride people''s anger to the top." "Mhm," I said. I opened my schedule and looked at what things were like for the rest of the week. From the looks of things, I have four half-days a week, and that was it. That left me... with a surprisingly large pool of free time. Lucy''s schedule more or less overlapped with mine, only she had a couple more days and a few more half-days sprinkled in. I''d have to go bring her to school and pick her up a few times each week, but that wasn''t so bad. Meh, I''d figure out what to do tomorrow, tomorrow. I finished breakfast in a rush, then watched as the kids came in to eat. Lucy was good with them, all smiles and pats on their heads. She wanted them educated and ready for the world. Something that we just couldn''t do a while ago, but now it felt like the easiest thing in the world. It being easy didn''t mean that I wanted to dismiss it, though. Lucy ate, gave some of the brats some orders that we both knew wouldn''t be followed without one of us there to bully the kids into doing them--shit like washing up only happened under threat of violence--and then we both ran back to our room to get dressed. Twenty minutes later we were in the Bastion, flying back towards the CIAL campus. I noticed that there were more people around when I came in to land. Enough that I was basically forced to set down in the spot marked out for the Bastion or risk landing atop some dumbass who didn''t know to look up. "Alright." Lucy said. "I''m off to class! Oh, hey, if I get a bicycle for getting around with, do you think I can leave it in the Bastion?" "I guess," I said. It wasn''t a terrible idea. "But like... don''t turn my transport into a shed. I don''t want to have to pick through random crap in the middle of a fight." "Promise!" Lucy said. "Love you! See you in a bit!" I got a goodbye kiss, then Lucy took off. We were a bit on the late side. I stepped out of the Bastion and shut it behind me, then took off at a respectable clip towards class. I was joined halfway there by Olivia who was carrying a duffel bag over one shoulder. "I wasn''t sure if you had clothing appropriate for physical exercise, so I brought some extra with me," Olivia said. "It''s all CIAL-marked clothing, from the campus store! So you know it''s got the CIAL seal of quality!" Yeah, I bet. I was both anxious to get started, and anxious to be done with it. *** Chapter Twelve - Survival 101: Dont Be Weak Chapter Twelve - Survival 101: Don''t Be Weak "Run my minions! Sweat for your master! That''s right, a million more push-ups! A million more burpees! Oh-hohohoho!" -Ojou-Sama Sweat School, exercise stream, 2036 *** Class was going down in the same room as last time, only the room itself had changed. The desks were all lowered, and a sort of matted floor was placed atop that half of the room. It was squishy underfoot, but still firm enough to walk on without too much difficulty. It would probably break a fall, a little, but not so much so that crashing onto the floor would be comfortable. The students were gathering to one side, under the watchful eye of Professor Rogers and two teacher''s assistants. They were all dressed in gym shorts and t-shirts, with running shoes on. "The changing rooms are this way," Olivia said as she guided me past the class and to the back, where a tied corridor split. One side had showers, the awkward open sort, the other had a bunch of changing stalls and lockers along one wall with thumb-print locks on them. "Here you go," Olivia said as she handed me a heap of clothes. "There should be everything you need to find a set that fits you in there." "Thanks," I said before slipping into one of the free stalls. They were those shitty ones, where the door only came down to about my knee and the floor was all cold tile. I set down the bag Olivia had given me, then opened it up and started to sort through its contents. There were shirts with the school logo on one breast, which was fine. Shapeless gym shorts of the non-sexy variety which was... yeah, I suppose that was fine too. But the sports bras? That was a little weird. And I was definitely, one-hundred percent not going to wear the granny panties with the school''s logo on the crotch. Bet Olivia would, though. I left the stall feeling a little under-dressed, especially since I wasn''t gonna walk into gym class with my Trenchmaker strapped around my thigh. That''d be a little weird. "Is the uniform comfortable?" Olivia asked. She''d changed into pretty much the same thing, though with a scrunchy keeping her hair out of her face. "Eh, it''s whatever," I said. I dumped my things in one of the lockers, then walked back to the class. It didn''t take long from there for things to start. "Alright everyone," Professor Rogers said. "This is the physical education part of your class. Let me get one thing straight, this isn''t about who can run the fastest mile, or who can do the most pushups. Those are important measurements of your own skill and capabilities, but they''re not what''s important. What''s truly important, is your ability to survive, and your ability to kill." I stood up a little straighter. Yeah, I didn''t want to be tested on my ability to jog in a circle or lift heavy shit. "Whether you''re fighting the antithesis and your weapon jams at a bad time, or you need to subdue a VIP that you can''t simply shoot, or you''re caught fighting a crowd of protestors in close quarters, you need to know the basics of modern combat. We''re going to focus especially on fundamentals, the things you need to know to survive. Learning how to kill effectively comes second." The professor gestured, and the assistants ran off. They returned with these big lumpy beige bags that they dropped on the floor before us, then they ran off to get more from a storage room at the back. "We''re starting the day with basic stretches, then we''re going straight into core strength and endurance training. Line up, get some space between each other. I don''t want to see one of you smacking your neighbor in the face, c''mon!" The class spread out, taking up a good chunk of the room until we all had enough room around us not to touch even if we reached towards each other. Then Rogers started us on stretches. Initially it was pretty easy stuff. Arm extensions, squats, lunges. Then he started to repeat the same pattern, but a little more extreme. Arm extensions combined with full-body twists, squats that turned into doing the splits on the floor, lunges that had us turning half-way to try and touch the ground behind us. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. A few students tripped over themselves and landed their ass on the floor, but it wasn''t so funny when I was trying not to lose my own balance. I very quickly discovered that I wasn''t half as flexible as the old man at the front. He could do a full split, lean to the side and touch his ear with a toe. I was pretty sure that if I pushed that hard, I''d rip something. I wasn''t quite sweating after ten minutes of stretching, but it was a near thing. "Alright!" Professor Rogers said as he bounced up to his feet. "Next, strength training. We''re not looking to build big muscles here. I don''t give a shit if you look good on a poster. What I care about is functional strength. The ability to pull yourself up over obstacles, the ability to carry a wounded VIP or comrade, the ability to walk for half a day and still shoot at the end of that. Pick a body! We''re doing some light jogging for the next half hour." Picking a body meant grabbing one of those lumpy things the TAs were dropping in front of each student. They were big, vaguely-human shaped lumps of weighted mass. I grabbed mine, then immediately regretted the way I''d tried to just lift it. The damned thing was heavier than I was, and it was a sort of dead weight, all lumpy and almost liquid. I glanced at the side when I saw someone do a roll that ended with them under the weight, then they lifted it with a squat. I did the same, thought not nearly so gracefully. I think if it wasn''t for the grip strength on my cybernetic arm, I might not have been able to hold on at all, but eventually I had the lump over one shoulder and I was able to hang onto it. "Alright! Get running!" I started to jog along with the rest. We went around the edge of the room in a big circle, and I could immediately tell that this wasn''t going to be fun after a few minutes. I had a few cybernetic enhancements on my side, plus some upgrades that Myalis had pushed on me, but in the end I was still an underfed, under-exercised twig of a girl that was only in shape because I couldn''t afford not to be. Running around with my own weight on my back was not normal for me. It was worse for some of the others, though. They were gasping after three minutes and one chick fell down and crashed to the mats. The professor was on her in seconds, barking orders and telling her to get back up. So, no mercy from the old asshole. I locked in as best I could. Some of the guys in the class were moving as if this was nothing. There were a couple that were more cybernetics than flesh, and they weren''t having any trouble with this shit. "It''s... not fair!" one skinny dude said. I immediately pegged him as a nepo-baby. "What''s not fair?" Rogers asked. "They''re modded... for this," he said. "Then get mods of your own, imbecile," the professor said. "You work with what you have, and in this day and age, if you don''t like what you''ve got, get better." The running around ended after far too long, and this time I couldn''t hide the fact that I was a sweaty, tired mess. "Good... now that you''re all warmed up, let''s start some speed drills. We''re going to start with hand-eye coordination drills, then once that''s done, we''re going to do a bit more sprinting," Professor Rogers said. The TAs started to pull out these pole contraptions with red balls on stalks. Once they set a few down, it wasn''t long before I figured out how they worked. A light would go off in the ball, and the student in front had to punch it. The lights went off progressively faster, and there was a penalty counter for missed hits. My legs were hurting before, and this thing was designed to fuck up my arms too. Why had I ever agreed to any of this? At the same time... I couldn''t help but feel like this might be a good way to come out the other side stronger and faster, so I''d trust the process for a bit. *** Chapter Thirteen - Carl Phillip Gottfried von Clauswitz Chapter Thirteen - Carl Phillip Gottfried von Clauswitz "Carl Phillip Gottfried von Clauswitz was a coward lil bitch, and no I ain''t elaborating. No notes." --Professor of Military History John B Mcbrea, 2051 *** "Alright, sit down," Professor Rogers said. I didn''t need to be told twice. Over the last few minutes, while we were doing jumping jacks at one end of the room, the teacher''s assistants were moving the mats off the floor where the seats were. Now the desks had unfolded and were back in their neat little rows. I flopped down onto mine and let out a long breath. My heart was still pumping fast, and I could feel the wet slickness of sweat sticking to my back. The shitty gym shirt I had didn''t breathe well. "Class will end in an hour. We''re going to alternate, going forwards, between long class-sessions where we focus on theory and discussions, and physical education at the end, and longer physical education sessions followed by theory," the professor said. "Historically, this has worked relatively well. Even if you feel physically exhausted, that shouldn''t stop your minds from working, and the physical training post-lesson sometimes gives you time to think and meditate on what you just learned." I nodded. Yeah, I could get that. Not super fond of the idea of spending so much learning time as a sweaty mess, but I got it. "Good, now that we''re all on the same page, let''s continue our discussion from last time. We talked about Sun Tzu, a strategist and military theorist of ancient China. Today we''re going to cover someone a little younger. Carl Phillip Gottfried von Clauswitz. Everyone who studies military history usually refers to him as Clausewitz alone." The professor turned to one of his TAs and gestured to them. They returned a moment later with a small fold-out seat that he sat on backwards. "Clausewitz was a Prussian general and theorist whose work can honestly be said to have shaped modern warfare. He fought in the Napoleonic wars, a time much like the present where new technologies were changing the fundamental ways that wars were fought. He was a successful general, but more importantly, he wrote about his observations in a book whose name roughly translates to ''On War'' or ''About War.''" Rogers rubbed at the bridge of his nose. I wondered if he had notes written on his augs or something so that we couldn''t see, or if he was pulling all of this from thin air. "Clausewitz''s work is... honestly, kind of shit," Rogers said. "It''s unfinished, filled with contradictory statements, and some of his observations are clearly biased. I''d still suggest reading his work, but do so with an annotated edition that includes the relevant historical context. Or at least watch a few docs on Prussian and the Napoleonic period. Anyway..." He waves his hand through the air dismissively. "The point is, Clauswitz wasn''t a perfect man, or a perfect theorist, but his work and observations on the facts of warfare serve as a good stepping stone for a modern understanding of warfare. War, in his view, isn''t a predictable science, but an uncontrolled and dynamic force shaped by humans. That means emotions come into play as much as technology and geography." I nodded along. Ancient dude wasn''t perfect. Got it. "His ideas still influence modern military doctrine, corporate security, and most forms of asymmetric warfare. Interestingly, his ideas on warfare often fall flat in the face of the Antithesis. There''s a lot of what he said that can be applied to keeping humanity ready and willing to fight, but at the same time, the Antithesis don''t care for the psychology of warfare in a way that matters." The professor blinked a couple of times, and the screen behind him lit up. There was a picture of some guy on it. Or a picture of a painting of some guy. I had to assume that was Clausewitz himself. "One of his main emphases was that war isn''t just a matter of strength, but one of perception. If your enemy is underestimating you, or you mislead them about your capabilities, then their strategy is compromised. This is especially true today where a lot of war is fought digitally between corporations. The battlefield is stockholder loyalty and public perception as opposed to geographic lines and ideological differences." He blinked, and the screen shifted to show two very generic corporate icons. "Let''s use an example here. Corp A and Corp B here are vying for dominance in a specific field. They both have manufacturing set up for something that''s vaguely valuable. Say... they make body kits for modern hovercars. It''s lucrative enough as a business that both corporations are valued in the low billions. Corp A wants to push a new kind of design onto the market, something big and flashy." If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Another click, and there was a picture of a boxy car, then it turned into something... still kind of boxy. Professor Rogers wasn''t a designer, I figured. "There are several ways that Corp A can succeed with a new product, but given that they''re in an ecosystem with competition, they need to work around the competition. Clausewitz'' principles of warfare suggest that all-out physical violence should only be employed later, once subterfuge and other methods have failed. Corp A could try to launch a campaign to discredit Corp B. They could bribe members of Corp B to introduce a higher number of failures in their product. They could drop false information that leads to Corp B suspecting a product launch before its actual date, forcing them to move faster and make more mistakes. The goal is to fight with information control first. Avoid gunfights, avoid assassinations, because once you''ve started down that path, then you can''t walk it back." Rogers licked his lips. "The real lesson, however, is that warfare, whether corporate or national, is fought against people. The enemy isn''t just a faceless entity, but is composed of hundreds of individuals with their own fears and morals and feelings. There are actions you can take to influence these people directly or indirectly that can lead to an eventual victory without violence, or that can give you an advantage when violence does occur." Rogers blinked and the screen changed again, this time showing a political sort in front of a crowd, behind him was a group of suits and assistants. "In January 2035 this man, Maxime Mythe, was one of the leading politicians of a French political party with a middle-right leaning. His party was gaining popularity in several polls and he was in line to become an influential politician. His slate was clean. No cheating on his spouse, no diddling kids, no bribes. He was an asshole, because he was a politician, but a clean one." The image zoomed in on one of the randos behind the Maxime guy. "This is his press secretary. A young man whose slate wasn''t nearly as clean. At the time, Maxime was fighting against bio-modifications in his country, wanting to make them illegal and increase enforcement against the use of cyberization. Solace Biotech, a now defunct company, decided to fight against Maxime, but their head of cybersecurity very specifically targeted his press secretary. He was blackmailed into revealing several sensitive documents, including several which were falsified. It didn''t matter that they were fake, the public outrage was enough that by the time investigations were complete, the laws that Maxime wanted to put into place were never going to see the light of day, and his political career was shot." I rubbed at my face. I hadn''t heard of this thing, but... yeah, that sounded plausible. I''d seen plenty of political shit go down on my personal media feed that looked a lot like this. So how much of what I''d seen throughout my life was someone fucking with someone else like this? Lucy would love this shit. Rogers went on for a while, going back to some ancient history with Clausewitz and then comparing some of that guy''s stuff to Sun Tzu and how they differed in some ways and overlapped in others. Soon enough, though, the class was over. Five minutes before it was meant to, even. "Alright, I''ll see you all in two days," Rogers said. "You''re off early because you need to shower. The stink of you lot is driving me insane. We''re starting the next class five minutes early to make up for it." I peeled myself off the seat, then sighed as a smiling Olivia frumped her way over. "Did you enjoy the class?" she asked. "CIAL''s lessons are specially designed to help students take in as much information as possible in as short a time! Even our physical education is designed to maximize learning efforts!" "Yeah, it was fine," I said. "I''mma head out. I think there''s a shower in my mech. No offence, but I''m not big on public showers where a bunch of dudes have their dicks out. So, uh, you have fun with that." I needed to get clean, and maybe zone out for a while. *** Chapter Fourteen - Unexpected Fallout Chapter Fourteen - Unexpected Fallout "The obsession with youth is an unchecked virus. The fixation on appearing young is less about vanity and more about survival in a culture that equates power with youth. And yet, the reality is that all political soft power is in the hands of the old. In the digital age, where everything is accelerated and disposable, youth is weaponized, sold, and idolized. But in chasing an endless cycle of perfection, we miss the deeper, grittier truth; true strength is forged in the scars of experience, the wisdom of survival, and the beauty of becoming something more than a perfectly polished avatar. --Excerpt from a speech by Bernard Dotter at the Grey Hair Con of 2045 *** "Yo," I said as I walked up to the Bastion. Olivia had peeled off a while ago, almost as soon as I was within line of sight of the ship, and now the only stranger left was... that dude that was accompanying Lucy. Emmet? Easton? No, it was... Ethan? "Cat!" Lucy said before she ran over and gave me a quick hug. "I''m glad you arrived. Did class go on for a long time? Also, you stink." I laughed, then shrugged. "A bit? I think it finished early, but I had to get changed." "Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense," she said. "Anyway, Ethan here was just keeping me company, but he''s heading out now." "I am?" Ethan asked. "Yup," Lucy said. "Thanks for stalking me around all over, it was nice of you! I''ll see you tomorrow, right?" "Oh, yeah, right," Ethan said with a goofy smile. If it wasn''t so obvious that Lucy had a leash on the poor idiot I might have considered socking him in the nose, but... yeah, no, he was giving off mad himbo idiot vibes. Lucy waved as the boy took off, then she turned back to me. "Can we go home?" she asked. "Yeah, sure," I said. "You in a hurry?" Lucy nodded. "I''ve been holding it in all morning." I barked a laugh, not expecting that reply. "Really? They have bathrooms here, you know?" I said as I walked over to the Bastion and sent a command through my augs to open it up. "Yeah, I know, but... public washrooms suck," she said. "I hate the stalls. They''re always super narrow, and there was never room for my crutches." "Okay," I said. She didn''t have crutches anymore, and I was pretty sure the washroom back at the orphanage couldn''t be any narrower without breaking some physical laws, but I knew better than to point that out. If she had hangups about it, then whatever. "There''s a washroom on the Bastion. Never used, either." "Really?" Lucy asked. "Yeah, there''s a whole living space. I never wanted to use the washroom on here though," I said. "Why not?" she asked. "Well, for one, this thing''s usually parked at home, so like... why bother? And for two, I don''t actually know where the shit goes in the first place, and I don''t want to have to learn how to empty a shit tank or whatever." "That''s gross," Lucy said. "Do like an airplane and just dump it while flying." "That''s an idea," I said. It didn''t take long before we were taking off. Lucy took one of the spare seats in the cockpit, her feet tapping a rapid, nervous beat behind me. I did fly a little faster than usual, because I wasn''t cruel. When we got home, Lucy hurried off while I did some post-flight checks. I had the next day free, and I had a lot of shit to cram into one day. So now was as good a time as any to look at the Bastion''s maintenance logs to see what it needed. I... still needed a shower, but if I was gonna get dirty anyway, then what was the point? The Bastion was pretty low-maintenance for a ship as large as it was. A few filters were yellow-green on some readouts, and the lubricant tanks were sitting at a comfortable ninety-percent. Basically, I could probably keep running it for another month of daily use without having to even think about doing any work on it, but... well, just in case, I sent an order to the matter fabricator to print replacement filters and set a reminder on my augs to do an oil change every ten thousand kilometres. I was tempted to get back to work on the mech''s leg that I still had in the back but... eh, if I got into it, I really wanted to get into it. The Nyanzerfaust still needed a couple of weeks of work, and picking away at it a few minutes at a time wouldn''t add up to much. I liked it better when I could sit down and work uninterrupted and without anything grabbing at my attention. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. "Fuck it," I muttered before stepping out. As I rode the elevator up then made my way to our room to get showered, I was thinking about the next day. It was a day without classes, so I''d be free to do whatever. That... somehow made me a little anxious. There was a lot I could be doing. Maybe I''d split the day in half? The whole school thing actually had me waking up at something approaching a reasonable hour in the morning, so that gave me most of a full day to work with. I ran around the bedroom, looking for clothes that weren''t too dirty. Lucy must have done the laundry because one of the chairs from the kitchen was in the corner of the room with a pile of mostly folded clothes on it. "Hey, Myalis, what''s the plan for tomorrow?" I didn''t know that you usually planned that far ahead. "Very funny," I said as I shouldered my way into the bathroom. I am the epitome of hilarity, yes. Though to answer your question more directly, you never planned anything for tomorrow as far as I''m aware. However, there are some outstanding issues that you might want to address, given enough free time. "Yeah, that''s the kind of thing I''m talking about," I said. "What issues, though?" Mostly the consequences of your call to action at the funeral you attended recently. The call to action which was broadcast internationally and which has had a marked effect on the number of riots and acts of political activism across the region. I suspect that some entities wish to talk to you about that. I paused in the act of mussing shampoo into my hair. "Wait, what?" There''s also still an ongoing global incursion, though it is mostly contained and seems to be slowly winding down. The area around New Montreal is quite secure, but there are still pockets of resistance. "Right, okay," I said. That much was easier to deal with. Finally, I believe that the army had put in several requests to communicate with you, including some sent directly from members you are familiar with. There is also some mail from local vanguard who wish to discuss various topics with you. "Urgh," I said. I took a moment to dunk my head under the flowing water of the shower. It drowned out my thoughts for a few moments. "Okay," I said as I pulled my head out. "Fuck me, that''s something. Can you like... order them by importance or something? Tell me who''s at the top?" A surprisingly difficult thing to ask, but I believe I can manage. At the top of the list would be the representatives of the Keiretsu and Nachtw?chternetzwerk. They want to set up a post-operation debrief in the coming week. They are giving you some leeway since New Montreal was hit hardest by the falling Phobos remains, but I suspect that they''ll want a meeting sooner rather than later. "Makes sense," I said. "Who''s next on that list?" The Family wishes to speak with you. "They always do," I muttered. "Yeah, okay, let''s... do a meeting with the doc and the Japanese samurai in the morning if that works for them, or in the afternoon if it doesn''t. Timezone fuckery and all that. Then the Family around noon. Anyone else?" Vanguard Deus Ex recently sent a request via text for a meeting. I blinked, then regretted it when I get some water in my eyes. "She''s back on Earth?" I asked. No. But her station is nearing Earth. Enough to make a videocall possible. She''s requesting a meeting at any time, at your convenience. "Huh. Yeah, okay. Talking to the pipsqueak might be worth the time." Deus Ex was a weird one. So far, she''d always been... kind of a superior? As far as samurai had superiors, that was. She was several tiers above me, had years more experience, and was teched-out to an obscene level. I was very, very far from being able to do shit in space, and here she was, with a station that could move from Earth to Mars and back. Still, for all that she was way stronger... it was hard to take her seriously sometimes. She was too small and cutesy, even if I was pretty sure she was more hardcore than even some of the most badass metal-chewing super soldier types I''d met. I shut the shower off, then stepped out. "What time is it?" I asked. Almost two PM, currently. "Oh... well shit, for some reason it feels like today''s over," I said. "Right... well, in that case, let''s get some food in me, then see about doing some work at home. I feel like shit''s gonna get busy sooner than I''d like, and I want to get as much done as I can while I can. *** Chapter Fifteen - Im Not Wiser, Just Older Chapter Fifteen - I''m Not Wiser, Just Older "Oldmaxxing is the fashion trend, inspired by men of the 80s and 90s. It includes a focus on browns and earth-tones, belts and simple walking shoes, and most eye-catchingly, the fashion often includes a particular Oldmax hairstyle where the front of the scalp is shaved back along the crown to give the impression that that oldmaxer is losing hair, while the rest of their hair is left to grow longer than usual and is combed back. Oldmaxers often combine this with the habit of smoking traditional paper cigarettes and listening to vintage early-2000s music. -Excerpt from ''Styles of the 2030s'', Second Ed. 2044 *** Wake up, Catherine. I winced, then blinked my eyes open. It was dark, but I still recognized that I was in my bedroom. Lucy was pressed up next to me, and I''d recognize the feel of her anywhere. I tilted my head up and tried to scan the room. My organic eye was adjusted to the dark, but I still couldn''t see much, which made it weird as my cybernetic eye could pick things out much better. There wasn''t anyone in the room. Which... why had I woken up, then? I was definitely still tired. I''m the one that woke you up. "Oh," I said as I let my head fall back. I had asked Myalis to wake me up the night before at around seven-ish. I''d even gone to bed yesterday, as opposed to early this morning. "God, I''m so fucking stupid," I muttered. "Mm," Lucy said as she rolled over so that she was back to me. I didn''t know if that was agreement or not, but her cold toes against the side of my leg almost did more to wake me up than Myalis talking in my head. "Myalis?" I asked. Yes, Catherine? "Do you have a snooze function?" No. Wake up. "Urgh," I groaned, but without Lucy holding onto me, I didn''t have any real excuse to stay in bed. So I rolled over, then untangled myself from the blankets until I was sitting on the edge. I rubbed my face, then gave in and stood up. Technically I''d gotten enough sleep. I was probably going to wake up on my own soon enough. The problem was, I''d kinda gotten used to just... Cuddling with Lucy for an hour or so in the morning while scrolling through my media feed and overdosing my early-morning brain with brain-rot slop. Sometimes we''d even fuck. But no, I just had to insist on being responsible on my first day off after the whole school thing. What was I even thinking? Complaining about it wouldn''t help any, so I got up and got going. Morning stuff, then breakfast, then getting dressed properly. By the time seven-thirty or so rolled around, I was ready to face the day. Then Lucy ambled out of the bedroom, looking a little lost, with her hair all poofed up on one side and squished in on the other. "Why did you leave?" she asked. It was a bit whiny. "It''s cold." "Sorry," I said before folding her into a hug. "I''ve got a busy morning. Trust me, I''d much rather spend it with you. Even if your feet are cold." "My feet aren''t cold," Lucy lied. "Sure they aren''t," I pretended to agree, because I am a model girlfriend. "Anyway, you have classes this morning, right?" "Yeah," Lucy said. She yawned cutely, then reached her fingers into her hair to scratch at her scalp. "Oh... you don''t, right? I guess I can use a taxi, or call in a favour or something." "I''ll drive you over," I decided. "And I think the Bastion''s auto-pilot is good enough to get you to the school and back. Usually I''d let you just go with that, but I might need it. We need to get you a car." "Sure?" Lucy said. "I''ll go take a shower. I''ll be ready in a bit." I nodded, then watched her go. Once she disappeared back into our room, I let out a sigh and wandered back to the kitchen. I found a can of coffee in the fridge and popped the tab. It tasted like ass, but it had 400% of my daily caffeine in it, and I needed that at the moment. "So, first plan is getting into contact with the Nachtw?chternetzwerk and the Keiretsu, right?" I asked aloud. I was impressed that I was able to say that without stumbling. "Can you send a message to the Doc and... crap, what was his name... Susano? Yeah, him. Send them both a message telling them that I''m down for a meeting in like, an hour or so. Whenever I''m back from dropping Lucy off." Message sent. "Thanks," I said. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. At this rate, you''re going to need to purchase a secretary AI catalogue. "Would it be better than you?" I asked. Don''t try to be cute. I grinned and took another sip of my canned coffee. Lucy came in a few minutes later, hair still wet, but wearing a fresh school uniform. She tossed a piece of bread into the toaster, then started making a quick and easy breakfast. "Gonna be ready in five," she said. "Oh! The school''s sending someone over today." "Wait, here?" I asked. "Yeah. A teacher, for the kittens. Uh, I told Daniel to take care of greeting them and all that, so don''t worry. And I told Myalis, so the turrets probably won''t blow them up." She started to butter her toast, very unconcerned about that last bit. Lucy looked up, then blinked. "Oh fuck! It''s almost eight!" "Yeah?" "My class starts at eight this morning! I gotta go!" As soon as Lucy was done buttering her toast, she scooped up a bag from the side in a hurry, then was out the door, toast hanging from her mouth. I shrugged, then followed after her at a more sedate pace, though I did send the order through my augs to open the Bastion up for her. Lucy was pretty quiet on the flight over, not that it was a very long one. When we landed, she hopped to her feet, gave me a quick kiss, then a slower kiss, and then she was off. "Well, that''s one thing handled," I said. "Hey, Secretary Myalis?" I can render your homeworld down into its individual atomic elements and sort them by mass and there''s nothing you could do to stop me. "Nice threat, but I''m too stupid to know what that means, so can you set an alarm for me to remind me to pick Lucy up?" Only because I like Lucy more than you sometimes. I laughed. "Hey, same." By the way, Keiretsu have replied to my message. They will be unable to attend your meeting this morning, but they did send a memo that a member of their group is on their way to North America. Vanguard Radikal, however, is ready to speak to you at your convenience, as long as it''s convenient within the next hour and forty minutes. "Huh, alright," I said. "Let''s get back home and park this thing. There''s a camera setup in the garage, right? Next to the hologram projector thing?" Yes. There is a camera next to the hologram projector thing. "Cool!" I said. It wasn''t long that I was carefully pulling into the parking garage under my massive cat-shaped home. Once the Bastion was settled in, I sat back and gave myself a few seconds to decompress before standing up and heading out. Setting up the camera in the main workshop part of the garage-within-the-garage wasn''t too hard. The UI for stuff I bought through Myalis was always super easy to figure out. A literal kid could stare at it for a few minutes and know how it worked. Once I had an image of myself up and tested it by waving a bit, I placed the call to the doc. It took three rings for him to answer, and that was with a, "Forgive me, but wait just one moment please," spoken in a thick German accent. "No probs, Doc," I said. A few moments later, I had the doc in front of me in miniature as a projected hologram. There was some 3d fuckery going on that made what was behind him appear as well, though in a sort of compressed way. It looked like he was in some sort of... lab, maybe? Like, a really high-tech one, but a lab all the same. "Ah! Stray Cat! It''s a pleasure to see you again." "Yeah, likewise, Radikal," I said. "You doing alright over there?" "Things are well," he replied with a smile. "The last of the mop-up for the Phobos incident went according to plan, and the remains of the moon are now hurtling through space and a trajectory which will have them intercepted by Jupiter in... about three hundred and twenty years." "Uh, that''s not for a minute," I said. "Space is quite large, and orbits quite complex," he said. "How about you? How are things on your end? The Phobos incursion was quite sudden, but you seem to have handled it well." "Yeah, surprisingly, things... went alright," I said. I pulled over a wheeled stool that was parked next to that mech leg I was working on, then sat down on it. "We... lived. Got a lot of locals to help, and things worked out. I mean, there were losses, but..." "But the efforts we took prevented these from being disastrous," he said with a nod. "Yeah," I said. "I guess we did alright." *** Chapter Sixteen - Die Welt ist im Wandel Chapter Sixteen - Die Welt ist im Wandel "Sure, we live in a multicultural, multilingual world. But if you don''t speak the same language as me, then I still think you''re a weirdo." --Witch streamer CielCiel minutes before being cancelled, 2036 *** I leaned back a little in my stool. "So, Doc, how have things been, besides the whole Phobos situation?" Radikal blinked owlishly, then casually shrugged. "Things have generally been well. There''s always a slow return to some form of normalcy after such a big event. And the Phobos incident was one that the Nachtw?chternetzwerk willingly chose to embark on. There''s some political barking about our Storm device, but it''s hardly the first time we''ve built or purchased something capable of causing mass destruction." "Yeah, I can see why people would bitch about it, but it''s kind of pointless to whine about one nuke when you''re sitting on a stockpile of them," I said. "Exactly, yes," he said. "In any case, the state of things is returning to the way we like them." "What''s that mean?" I asked. "There are fewer threats of human extinction this week than there were in the last. Our doomsday clock has slid back several microseconds." "Doomsday clock, huh? What hour''s it at?" I asked. Radikal chucked. "Twenty-three fifty-nine." "Ah, well shit," I said as I reached up to rub my face. "You know, I started to go to school this week. For the first time in... anyway. Uh, learning that we''re so close to everything going tits up kind of makes that seem like a waste of time." The doc shook his head. "No. I believe, firmly, that there is a serious need for us Vanguard to have real, stable lives. I''m not a top-tier one myself, but I have been a Samurai for ten years now. Eleven? Ah, it has been a while. I''ve seen some young souls become Vanguards and lose a great part of themselves as they race to the top. They come to their senses eventually, or they''re the kind of person for whom such a high level of power feels natural, but I think that taking things slow and keeping a firm grasp on your humanity is important. If your way of doing this is to attend school and be surrounded by normal people, then so be it." "I don''t think there''s much risk of me forgetting my humanity or whatever. Or leaving normal people behind," I said. I had the kittens to look after, and Lucy to keep me... more or less grounded. "Ah, I shouldn''t have presumed. Forgive me," he said. "In any case, what is that I see behind you? The leg of a mechanized system?" "Huh? Oh, that''s the leg of my mech. One of them. It''s... kind of semi-taken apart. There was this nasty fucking model thirty-something that took a few bites out of my mech and left it all sorts of fucked. I''ve been fixing it since. I have another to use in the meantime." "Ah, a mechanic! Perhaps you''d fit into the Network better than you think. We support a number of more engineering-inclined Samurai." No way was I gonna head over and embarrass myself in front of the Germans. "It''s just a hobby," I said. "Don''t go looking at me if anything breaks down." Talking with Radikal was... nice? The guy had this sort of ''awkward scientist'' vibe in the way he dressed and moved, but it didn''t feel that way at all when he talked. I guess I was stereotyping him based on his looks or something, but as we chatted about this and that, he never really dropped the ball. Before I knew it, half an hour had passed. He''d told me a few stories about some of the people he worked with, and I got to tell a few about how shit had gone down around the Big Gun. "I actually don''t know what we''re going to do with it now," I said. "The army''s still stationed all around it, as far as I know. I think they''re building up an entire ass base right next to the Big Gun? It''s not a really great place for that, but... actually, it''s not terrible either." "Oh? Why''s that?" he asked. "Gros Baton. That little French-Canadian kid? He still lives in his hometown, and that''s a stone''s throw away from the Big Gun''s site. So they at least have a Samurai within shouting distance if anyone tries anything. Not that I think anyone will." "It would be difficult to steal an installation as large as the Big Gun. However, don''t underestimate the willingness of some to try," he warned. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "I guess it might be worth it. Things got to be worth a few billion, right? But like, the other half of the gun is useless without a samurai to operate it." "Yes, certainly, but the portal system isn''t. I can imagine some corporations paying quite the sum just to have images and blueprints of such a device to throw at their research and development teams." "Would they get anything out of it?" I asked. "Shit was the collaborative work of a dozen samurai. It''s not something that''s going to spill its secrets just like that. And if it did, then it''s still like, a few decades ahead of any tech we have," I said. "We" being humanity in general, of course. "It''s only a few decades ahead because we''ve spent decades catching up," he said sagely. "Are we actually catching up?" I asked. "Feels like this shit is pure sci-fi stuff." I gestured around vaguely at all the stuff around me. Radikal just nodded. "We are. You are, forgive me for saying so, still quite young. It''s normal that you haven''t internalized the change, but it is happening, and at a pace that is startling. It is merely that in the last few decades, change has been happening in a sort of wave." "A wave?" I asked. "Yes. You may be too young to have noticed it, but every five to ten years now, there''s a great breakthrough in one field of science or another. Usually something that propels a corporation into prominence, and usually something linked to a Vanguard." "Okay," I said. "And that''s the start of a wave?" "Yes, a wave," he said. "Because there is then a race to apply this new technology to everything. It becomes a craze, usually going too far before it recedes and a new normal is achieved." "So like... hover cars?" I asked. "A good example! The technology was innovative when I was still young, and it was applied to everything. Now it has been scaled back to more reasonable productions. Mostly automobiles and some utility items. No one speaks of flying cities anymore, not since Atlantica was built at great expense and proved to be problematic in practice." Right, that big floating city over the Atlantic ocean. Kind of a hot mess from what I remembered, but also like... kinda popular as a nation-less citystate for some folk. "Obviously, when the Nachtw?chternetzwerk built our flying base of operations, we utilized similar, but more advanced, technology. Afterall, the purpose of technology is to better allow you to accomplish a goal. More efficiency, more effectiveness, lower cost and upkeep. These are all factors that come into play when adopting something new. In that respect, the goal of the Protectors is slowly coming to fruition." "Their goal?" I asked. "Ain''t that just to keep us alive?" "No. Don''t you recall the words your AI companion first spoke to you?" I blinked. "I think I was impaled with a metal pole at the time," I said. "And I wasn''t expecting a voice in my head." He didn''t even hesitate at the admission. I guess he had been a samurai for longer, so my origin story didn''t sound too special. "Each AI says something slightly different, I believe, and there''s the linguistic difference as well. Mine said, ''Ich werde Ihnen helfen, die Menschheit zu erheben, damit Sie Ihre Heimatwelt vor der Bedrohung durch die Antithese verteidigen k?nnen,'' or something similar. Essentially, ''Ich werde dir helfen, die Menschheit zu erheben, damit du deine Heimatwelt vor der Bedrohung durch die Antithese verteidigen kannst.'' That is not the same as assisting humanity itself, but assisting me, and you, to assist humanity." "I guess I get it," I said. "It''s giving a gun to a cop for him to keep the place safe, rather than doing it yourself." "That analogy works... to some extent, yes." "I''m not good at those," I admitted. "But yeah... I guess we''re helping in our own way?" He nodded. "As long as we''re not giving people too many tools with which to kill themselves, I think we''ll be fine. There will be more need of us in the future. Take this moment of calm for what it is; time to let yourself learn and unwind and sharpen the skills that you will need later, because later always comes sooner than you might think." *** Chapter Seventeen - Grasping at Paper Straws Chapter Seventeen - Grasping at Paper Straws "No luxury has survived recessions and economic downturns better than the humble drive-through coffee, because when you only have five dollars to your name, you can still afford a four dollar cuppa." --Except from The Second Big Depression, by Economist Wayne Wright, 2026 *** "So... yeah, bye man," I said. Radikal smiled right back. "Yes. It was genuinely nice to speak with you, even if we strayed from our initial topic. Have a good... ah, afternoon, Stray Cat." "See ya, Doc," I said before terminating the call. Leaning back after the image of the old guy blinked away, I reached up and brushed a hand through my hair. That was my early afternoon chore done. We''d ended up talking for an hour where I was initially expecting the call to last like, ten minutes at most, but Radikal was surprisingly fun to talk to. We have jack shit in common other than being Samurai, and yet I could see myself being his friend. In a ''grab a beer after work'' kind of way. I was just standing up when my projector blinked to life right in front of me. On instinct, I reached for my Trenchmaker, but it was just Radikal again. "Stray Cat? Forgive me, please, but I realized as I terminated our call that there was something I forgot to communicate with you." "Oh, uh, shit, go ahead," I said. "Yes, yes, again I''m sorry. I was speaking with Susano this morning, when he happened to be awake as I was, and he mentioned to me that a samurai from the Keiretsu is heading to New Montreal, and it''s possible that she would be showing up at your place to meet you." I shrugged. "Alright? Anyone I should worry about?" Radikal seemed to consider that. "I don''t believe so? It might be best to consider them as a friendly ally coming for a visit." "I can handle that," I said. The house was clean enough, and I didn''t mind making more samurai friends. "Good, good," he said with a nod. "In that case, goodbye for real. Have a nice afternoon." "Ciao," I said as his image winked out. "So... who''s coming to visit?" From what I can glean from public records, she''s a long-term member of the Keiretsu. An experienced vanguard who elected not to participate in the Martian crusade. A ''she'' huh? Well, whatever. I''d see them when they showed up. Placing my hands on my hips, I stretched my lower back out, then twisted left and right. "Okay, it''s... almost one. I should grab something on the way over to the Family, yeah?" Heading over in the Bastion would make the most sense, but if things went long and Lucy needed a ride back, I could just send the ship over to pick her up. Which left my bike. The bike was also conveniently able to fly into aerial drive-throughs, so I could grab something unhealthy on the way over. I deserved it after that physical torture I''d been through in yesterday''s class. Before I left, I ran upstairs and got changed. I''d worn old jeans and a loose t-shirt for the meeting with Radikal because it was all over screens and he was probably not a stickler for looks. When meeting the Family? Well, if Emoscythe was here, she''d probably have something to say about projecting power with my appearance or something. Basically, if I showed up looking like some nobody girl that was clueless, they''d treat me exactly like that. I slid into a suit of exo-armour and then shrugged on a long coat with my Stray Cat logo on the back before tucking a Laser Pointer SMG in the small of my back and replacing my Trench Maker where it would be within easy reach in a thigh holster. It wasn''t exactly like showing up in a war mech, but the armour gave me a couple of inches of height, and it was sleek as shit. I looked myself over before leaving. Emoscythe had helped with the image for this one a while back, and I was rocking the dangerous bounty-hunter look. I liked it. I wouldn''t ever admit it out loud, but it made me feel kind of cool. Obviously, being actually cool was about being chill with yourself to the point where you weren''t trying to be cool at all, so I wasn''t going to open my dumb mouth and let people know. If anyone asked, this armour and coat and shit was all the most efficient stuff I had access to at the moment. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. With a nod to myself, I moved back downstairs, straddled my bike, then shot out of our building and up past the midday air traffic. "Myalis, can you poke the Family and let them know that I''m on my way? Just want to check in on things, make sure our projects are moving along at a good pace." On a scale of one to sixteen, how passive-aggressive should I be with the message? "Uh... like, a two?" I said. No. I''d rather go all-in. Message sent. What did that even mean? I... didn''t feel like I had the energy to untangle Myalis'' fun at the moment though. I turned my bike down and flew over to a drive-through coffee place that didn''t have too long of a line, and five minutes (and a couple of thousand credits) later, I was flying with one hand on the handles and the other holding onto an ice cappuccino. Fuck the bounty hunter look, this sugary shit was tasty. The Family''s HQ in the middle of the city looked busier than I remembered it being. Traffic around the building was constant, and it wasn''t just hovercars and vans. There were a few vehicles that were definitely some samurai''s ride. Jolly Monarch had to be around because there was half of a chess set floating nearby, each ''piece'' the size of a suburban home but made entirely of metal and probably filled with enough firepower to level a small town, and the ''samurai only'' parking on the roof only had a couple of spots free. I parked my bike in between a large armoured van painted in a deep black with no obvious windows or doors and a sweet little blue roadster with sick flame decals. No idea who either belonged to. New samurai in the region? Or just more New Montreal samurai that I hadn''t met? Actually, it might have been out-of-towners. The call just before the Phobos incident had brought in a lot of people from outside of the region to help, and that could mean that the Family was playing hotel. I climbed off my bike, then slid open the front of my helmet so that I could sip through the straw of my ice cap... the damned straw had turned to mush at the bottom though. "Fucking paper straws," I muttered. I was all for saving nature and shit, but only when it wasn''t inconvenient. I ended up drinking from the lip of the cup like a barbarian as I made my way over to the main entrance. Within, I found three people in suits waiting for me. They all smiled corpo little smiles and greeted me with handshakes. One of them, a slightly older guy with greying hair, spoke for the others once the introductions were over with. "How can we assist you today, Miss Stray Cat?" he asked. "Just want an in-person update," I said. "Where is Eric, or Piper?" I asked. The two of them had been my sorta-official liaisons with the Family. I wasn''t exactly attached to either, but it was easier to deal with a familiar face than not. "They''re on their way," the man assured me. "Your arrival was unexpected, and neither were on-duty at the time." "Uh-huh," I said. The trio started to lead me further into the building, but I wasn''t sure where we were going, exactly. Fortunately, a few corridors in, we were met by Eric who ran over while adjusting his tie. "Miss Stray Cat," he said with a nervous smile. "I''ll take it from here, gents." The trio hesitated, but clearly Eric here had some sort of leg up on them because they slinked away after a while. "Sorry about that," he said. "I understand that you''re not fond of overly formal arrangements. Ah, but we''re being run ragged right now." "Things are bad?" I asked. "Things are busy," he said. "I... am permitted to speak candidly?" "Yeah, go ahead." "The Family is using the end of the current crisis and its involvement within it to bolster its own reputation and standing. That means a massive PR campaign, lots of outreach, and we need to ensure that all of the work we do now is above the usual standard, to avoid any reproach from any competition." "You''ve got competition?" I asked. He shrugged. "The government?" Well shit, that made some sort of sense. "Alright. Well, I hope I didn''t give you guys too much work." "You did, ma''am, but trust me, the higher-ups couldn''t be more pleased. You''ll be happy to note that their pleasure reflects well on your own Family-related projects." *** Chapter Eighteen - How Will You Wipe Tomorrow? Chapter Eighteen - How Will You Wipe Tomorrow? "The Civic Response & Instability Surveillance and Intervention System (C.R.I.S.I.S) system was first conceived of in the late 90s by the CIA to measure the level of civil unrest in a population. The purpose being to better manipulate public perceptions and measure if and when to shift media attention so as to calm the general populace. In later years, this same system was used by the more city-state aligned nations of North America to warn political entities to keep people calm in the face of the Antithesis threat, scarcity, and civil outcry." --The CRISIS and You pamphlet, 2039 *** Eric seemed to know where he was going, so I continued to follow him. The all-white corridor we were in shifted as he took a turn into a large room with walls lined with floor-to-ceiling posters in glass-fronted frames. Posters of different Samurai, most of them in cool, heroic poses. This was obviously some sort of central hub space, with a dozen corridors meeting in this one room. There was seating room in the middle and not one person sitting there. Instead, the people here were moving around with some speed, though a few stopped to gawk at me. "The Family really is busy," I said. There had to be a hundred people slipping through this room. Corpo sorts that looked like they wanted nothing more than to be behind a desk. There were enough credits spent on suits here to fund a small war in a third-world country. "We are," he said. "But don''t worry, your projects are still flagged as top-priority, even with everything else happening. In fact, they''re more important now." I wanted to believe him, because that would be convenient and nice, but I didn''t grow up with convenient, nice things happening to me most of the time. "Why''s that?" I asked. Eric looked to me, then glanced around the room. "Might I ask you a favour?" he asked. "Sure," I said. "There''s passive listening throughout the building. For security, obviously, but there''s a certain amount of... listening-in that happens as well. Would it be possible for you to... grant us some privacy? Nothing I have to say reflects poorly on the Family, of course, but, you know." "I think I can manage something like that. Or Myalis can, at any rate." I can. Though to avoid suspicion, I''ll merely muddle any currently active recordings. Consider yourself somewhat private. I gestured to Eric. "Go on," I said. The man stared with slightly widened eyes, then nodded. "Thank you. And share my appreciation with your AI as well. Um... yes, well, onto the meat of things, right?" "Uh-huh," I said. "So, the Family have poured ressources into the repair, refurbishment, and replacement of the city''s sewer system, as well as its overall maintenance. We basically strong-armed a government contract to take care of the work in exchange for a fair reimbursement later. Honestly, we''re losing a bit of money on the surface, but I think the good PR and any technology we gain from it will make this worthwhile in the long run. And it''s leading to amicable communications with several corporations throughout the city. A short and long-term gain project like this is just good business." "Yeah, that makes sense. But the way you''re being all cagey tells me that it''s not all good news." Eric rubbed at his chin. "You''re right. The Family... is kind of afraid of you." "What?" I asked, surprised. I mean, on one level, I got it. I had nukes on demand and didn''t shy away from shooting politicians on live TV. That left a mark, I bet. But on the other, the Family dealt with a lot of samurai. Probably hundreds of them across North America alone. Some of those were big names. "You''ve become exceptionally popular, at least locally, and your appearances have encouraged... a certain rise in the amount of vigilantism in the area." I was... just me. Sure, I''d probably made waves, but nothing that big, right? Blinking, I opened a browser on my Augs, then shifted through the massive collection of tabs I had open. Past memes, past lewds, past cute videos I was saving to send to Lucy the next time she was cranky... and finally to the Official Unofficial Samurai Ranking Site. It was a long-ass list of samurai names that you could scroll down for a while, listed by order of current popularity with green and red numbers to the side showing how far up and down someone had moved on the rankings in the last week. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The site, as far as I could tell, worked by collating polls and checking for the number of times a Samurai''s name showed up on various media sites. There was more to it, of course. Weekly popularity contests, merch sale figures, appearances on the news. I bet that there were ways to game the list, but I also bet that most samurai didn''t give a solitary shit. Some... yeah, I also bet that Emoscythe Mordeath Noir had this list fed directly into her brain with by-the-second updates. She seemed the sort. Speaking of which, as I scrolled down, I saw her in the top three hundred or so. That was damned impressive, considering that the list had something like thirty thousand samurai on it. There were more than that, world-wide, but a lot of samurai kept out of the limelight. Some probably had their AI scrub their media presence too so that they''d remain ghosts, and some probably lived pretty normal lives outside of the occasional outing to fuck up a hive or something. Stray Cat ^ 1278 places I blinked. That was a pretty spectacular jump. It still only placed me a bit about the five thousand mark, but like... fuck, that was huge, wasn''t it? Did this mean that I was a local celebrity now? I was pretty sure that most people south of New Montreal wouldn''t know who I was, but still. "So, being popular suddenly made the Family kick shit into gear?" I asked. "To some extent? To be honest, it''s more like a confluence of factors. Your rising popularity is one, but there''s been a noted rise in tensions in the city. Gang warfare is up seven hundred percent from last month, polls are showing a marked increase in displeasure. Shows and entertainment with violent vigilantism as a main plot point have had a strong increase in viewership." "Oh," I said. So it wasn''t the Family deciding to do good so much as they decided that when shit went down, they wouldn''t be the target of said shit. Which, ironically, involved handling the shit situation. "So how are the sewers coming along?" I asked. "One point five percent of the city-wide sewer network has been restored to full functionality," he said. "Keep in mind that at the start of operations, once we finished inspecting the system, sixty-two percent was deemed operational at full capacity, and some twenty-three percent was deemed... technically capable of functioning." "One percent doesn''t sound like much," I said. "It''s a fair amount, considering the time that has passed," Eric defended. "But we also have to admit that a large part of that increase comes from some simple but necessary repairs that we''ve been able to do relatively rapidly." "Right," I said. "So it''s only going to slow down?" He nodded, even if he looked reluctant to do so. "Basically, yes. The best predictions we have account for a one to two percent per week repair rate." I worked my jaw, then opened the calculator app on my augs. Sixty-two plus twenty-three was... eighty-five and then that minus one hundred... "So we have fifteen percent of the sewer system super messed up, and we''re fixing it at one percent a week?" "More or less. We''re aiming for three percent monthly." "That''s... five months to get the sewers fixed. Hell, five months for just the fucked parts." Eric didn''t seem to know what to say as an excuse, so he just shrugged. "That''s the best estimate we have with current resources. The damage is extensive." "So, more realistically, we''re talking half a year to nine months?" Eric''s lips twitched into the start of a smile that he quickly aborted. "Essentially, yes." "And in that time, a lot of people will be without working plumbing?" That wiped the smile away for real. "Unfortunately. But this really is the best we can do." I kinda believed him. Sure, he might have been bullshitting, but it all sounded plausible enough. I''d have to look and see if progress was actually being made, though. "Well, at least we''re helping some people," I said. "That''s the goal. The Family is working hard on outreach at the moment, to cool down any... unrest in the general populace. We''re working on food distribution, water, and entertainment." "Entertainment?" I asked. "Circus, to go with the bread," he said. "I think that the higher-ups believe that New Montreal can''t afford any major unrest, not at the moment." "Yeah, that makes sense," I said. "So, what''s all this about me being the cause for unrest anyway? I don''t recall encouraging people to get into a brick-slinging mood?" *** Chapter Nineteen - Want To See My Fanart Collection? Chapter Nineteen - Want To See My Fanart Collection? "To ''go viral'' means that a video, image, or piece of information is circulated rapidly online from user to user and platform to platform. But as the modern internet grew and became more segregated, a piece of media that went viral might fail to reach some corners of the internet. Going ''super viral'' means that the meme or piece of information transcends these borders. It is so sharable and so memeable, that it breaks past any artificial delineations designed to keep things apart." -On Super Memes, 2049 *** Eric stared at me for a moment, then started walking again. I hoped to catch up to him. It seemed like he was just giving me a tour of the floor, really. Though he might also have been parading me in front of all his coworkers. I didn''t have a great impression of how the Family''s internal shit worked, but I did have the impression that anyone that worked closely with one or more samurai would quickly climb the corporate totem pole. "Your showing online, just before the Phobos Incident became international news... actually, your warning and call to action is what made it international news. Since then, pundits have been arguing about samurai access to weapons of mass destruction, again, and your video appears in several clips." "So a lot of folks saw that? So what?" I asked. "Well, it was big news in several ways. It went super-viral. A samurai cutting into media feeds is noteworthy in the tech sector, the announcement fit into general news well, the end-of-the-world potential was a hit amongst the religious and the fear-mongering algorithms, and there were several other samurai in the clip, just hanging out in the background, including some unknowns." "Right, I guess that was Gros Baton''s big debut." "His name is still hotly debated online," he said. "Since there''s no primary source confirming it. It''s made him very popular with certain groups." "Certain groups?" I asked. I didn''t want to know, but I had to ask. "There''s a lot of fanart," Eric admitted. I shook my head. I was right, I didn''t want to know. "Okay, so I popped up and that went viral. Shit like that happens all the time. I remember seeing samurai show up on my feeds pretty often growing up if they did something big." "Yes, but this is different," Eric said. "You executed a moderately high-ranking political official on live television. Then there''s your speech at the funeral service for those who passed during the incident. It was heavily televised. Live viewership was in the tens of millions. And your speech, following after Miss Emoscythe Mordeath Noir''s, was spoken in a way that encouraged... dissidents to pick up arms." "Oops," I said. "You''re giving us a lot of work," Eric said. "The Family, most corporations, and the government, work very hard to reduce anti-establishment sentiments and to fold individualism within a certain range of acceptable deviations. You... kicked that out of position, and now there''s a large effort to course-correct, and that effort is being pushed against. This isn''t all on you. There has been a resurgence in anti-government and anti-corporate sentiment that has been growing in the last ten or so years. It''s just that right now, a lot of those sentiments are coming to a head, a boiling point." I rubbed at my face. "Okay. And what do I do about it?" Eric shrugged. "The higher ups won''t give you orders. But if you could avoid making any media appearances, that would be nice." "I''ll see what I can do," I said. "Thank you. Try to especially avoid starting any rebellions?" I snorted, then jumped when I noticed the time on my augs. "Ah, fuck. I''ve got to go. Can''t stick around here for too much longer. Need to pick up my girl in under an hour." "Of course," Eric said. "Let me guide you to the roof. Next time you come over, feel free to send me a message first? Or to Piper, she''s the other agent currently on file, and I don''t mind working with her." "But not others?" I asked. Eric shifted a bit, and some of that awkwardness I''d first noticed in him was back. "Miss Piper is... friendly and capable of sharing. It isn''t everyone who has that same attitude here." Aww, poor moron had a crush. He led me to an elevator then up to the roof-lobby floor where I shook his hand and said goodbye. It had been... productive enough, actually. I''d gotten up to date on what shit was going down. It didn''t look like I was urgently needed either. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. I got on my bike, noted that one samurai car had left, only to be replaced by a sleek little Japanese-looking hover bike that probably belonged to another samurai I didn''t know. Well, whatever. I kicked the bike into gear and sped off to race back home. I got back just as the Bastion was starting itself up, ready to drive itself over to the CIAL campus to pick Lucy up. I paused, opened one of the bay doors on the side, then parked my bike in the back where a few universal clamps came up to hold it in place. The Bastion was moving as I made my way to the cockpit, a hand on the wall to keep myself steady as the ship shook through the air. I sat down in the cockpit, but didn''t bother touching the controls, the autopilot was running already, and I trusted it not to crash me into a building. And if it did, chances were we''d just go through. The Bastion was pretty well armoured. It wasn''t too long before the school came into view up ahead. As the ship circled the large Samurai-Only landing spot, I noticed a small group of people standing not too far off to one side. One of them had a distinctive poof of dark brown hair that I''d recognize anywhere. The Bastion landed with a hiss, and I saw Lucy wave goodbye to the group she''d been chatting with before she ran over. When she came in, I surprised her by wrapping my arms around her shoulders and pulling her in for a kiss. She squeaked in surprise, then melted into my arms. "You scared me!" she said once the kiss ended. "Oops," I deadpanned. Lucy jabbed a finger into my ribs, which really didn''t do much when I was still armoured from my visit to the Family. "I didn''t think you''d come to pick me up yourself," she said. "I found the time," I said with a casual shrug and with no mention of the speed I''d flown earlier or the traffic laws I''d ignored to get here on time. "So, made some friends?" "Yup!" Lucy said, all chipper and happy. "Most of them are from my cooking class, but there''s a couple that I''d met that are from other classes. I need to start prepping for another event like that cookies-and-cupcakes thing I did the other day. People are starting to recognize each other, but we need to push that a lot more." "Uh-huh," I said. I hadn''t let go of the hug yet, and Lucy didn''t seem to mind. "And what''s the end-goal? I mean, you''re socializing, making friends, setting up a big rep, but where are you going with it?" "Oh, that''s an easy one," Lucy said. She leaned up a little and gave my cheek a peck. "When there''s an inevitable uprising, I want to be on the winning side, and that means being just one step removed from the people running it." "Huh... you know, I think I had someone tell me today, very explicitly, not to start an uprising." Lucy shrugged. "So? You''re not doing anything, just being a good samurai and going to school and being all sexy and tough." "I feel like I''m going to get painted by association," I said. "I''ll try to be a bit more subtle, then," Lucy said. "Did anyone ever tell you that you''re really hot?" I asked. Lucy grinned. "You know, I was thinking something real similar. There''s something about a girl in power armour that''s real delicious." I laughed, then scooped Lucy up into a princess carry. She wriggled in my grasp as I brought her to the cockpit by the front. "You are so lucky I have a few last things to take care of," I said. "Or else I''d be having a lot of fun with you right now." "Aww, too busy for little old me?" Lucy asked. "Eh... maybe I can make some time," I said. "I''m good about finding that recently." I soon discovered that the little living quarters tucked into the Bastion had a rather awful fold-out bed. It wasn''t that terrible, but the whole thing bounced uncomfortably as the ship flew, and the mattress was on the thinner side. I didn''t spend too much time concerning myself over that, though. Catherine, as much as I loathe interrupting your... fun, I do have to remind you that you have one final meeting this evening. I groaned. Wasn''t that the meeting with Deus Ex? She''d understand if I put it off a little, right? *** Chapter Twenty - Deus Ex Machinations Chapter Twenty - Deus Ex Machinations "Laziness is the greatest motivator." --Deus Ex, Only words spoken during a press conference before leaving, 2056 *** I should pick up smoking. All the cool old movies had protagonists that would smoke a cigarette in bed after some big sexual conquest, right? Sure, they were in proper beds, not a cot shoved into the corner of a tiny living space, and they weren''t usually doing any sort of conquesting while in a moving vehicle, but I felt like the principle of it stood. "You''re thinking something silly," Lucy said. She reached over and poked my cheek. "I can tell." "No I''m not," I said. She poked me some more. "You are. I can tell." Lucy sat up while smiling, then shivered before reaching over to drape her school uniform''s coat over herself. "Okay. I''m going home. I need a shower and the Kittens have probably gotten into some sort of trouble. You can''t trust Daniel to take care of them this long without something slipping past him." "Yeah, fair," I said. I sighed, then started to look for the armour I''d been wearing before. It was spread out across much of the floor at the moment. Groaning, I decided to give up on the idea. I was home anyway, right? So I picked up the gear and piled it up more or less neatly so that I could carry it out. I wanted a shower too, actually. I got dressed anyway, then picked up the armour and headed out. And that''s the state I was in when I ran into Deus Ex. I blinked, then blinked again as I took her in. Deus Ex was standing in the parking garage, arms crossed and looking mightily unimpressed. She was in an all-white set of armour, plates over white cloth, with a screen on her inner arm and a few ports here and there, and floating next to her were a pair of guns longer than my bike with a bore large enough to fit my head into. "Stray Cat," she said. "Deus," I replied. "Didn''t expect you to show up in person." I shuffled past her, bringing my armour to the garage in the back where I dropped it all onto a workbench. "I''m not," she said as she followed. I half-turned to eye her. "You''re not? Fancy hologram?" "No, this is a clone body," she said. "I left a few of the older models on Earth when I left with my station." "Right," I said. Fuck she could be creepy when she wanted to be, huh? I was basically talking to a puppet, then. Or was it something more complicated than just a puppet? I glanced over at her from the corner of my eye. Deus Ex looked like a precocious young teenager. Chubby cheeks, four-foot-something, no chest. She looked like she was someone''s bratty little sister. I was pretty sure she was at least half a decade older than me. "So, how''d things end up on Mars? I haven''t been paying it as much attention as I probably should." Deus Ex stepped into the workshop, eyes trailing over all the tools and the half-disassembled mecha leg in the middle. "Not too poorly. But I can''t say it went well, either. We lost a dozen good samurai. Some of them were in the top ten or so most powerful of us. The loss is going to take a while to recover from." "Oh. Shit," I said. "It needed to be done," she said simply. "And it has been. Mars'' surface has been turned into glass. The first half metre of topsoil or so, at least. There are a few areas where we need to punch much deeper to root out some hives, and even though we''re done, we''re still monitoring the planet for any potential antithesis growths. They will show up. It''s almost impossible to eradicate an infection fully." "Almost impossible?" I asked. "We don''t want to toss Mars into the sun, so we''re doing what we can," Deus Ex said. "I think that the Protector AI tend to oversell humanity, or any race''s, ability to actually defeat the antithesis. They''re far too persistent to be removed." "That''s fucked," I said. She shrugged. "It is what it is. That does mean that we''ll never run out of work. Ideally, in a few centuries, we''ll be able to just sit back and only venture out to slap down any little surges as they show up. I think that''s how it is for some other civilisations that had a similar program to ours." Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. I rubbed at my chin, then turned and hopped up onto a workbench. "So, other than the loredumping about unimportant shit, why''d you come over?" "I caught up with what you''ve been up to this past week," she said. "Okay. Bit creepy, but go on," I said. "When I first met you, I gave it fifty-fifty odds that you wouldn''t make it through the first day, let alone your first week. And somehow, mostly thanks to making capable friends, you managed. And then you continued to make more capable friends who carried you through." I frowned. "Some of that was on my own merit, right?" I asked. "Now you seem to be forging ties with other groups while building up your own," she continued, entirely ignoring my question. "I don''t think you''re doing it on purpose. I don''t think you do much on purpose, really." "Hey now." "But you''re... charismatic in an animalistic way. I think that''s genuinely useful. You encourage others to act, either by example or via spite, and I think that there''s a genuine space for a samurai with that kind of skill set in the world, especially right now." I shook my head. "Deus, what are you on about?" I asked. "You didn''t come all the way here from Mars to give me an insult sandwich, did you?" Deus Ex pouted, which made her look about... what, fifteen years younger? "No. I came to ask you a favour of sorts, one which will help you as well." "Uh-huh," I said as I crossed my arms. "Go on." "There are a number of responsibilities shared amongst the higher tier samurai of any given region. It''s a way to keep each other accountable. I happen to be the samurai in charge of New Montreal as a whole." "Wait, seriously?" I asked. "Someone has to be." "Yeah, but I wasn''t expecting it to be you," I said. Deus Ex stared, her expression flat. "I''m probably in the top thousand or so samurai on Earth. Near the bottom of that, certainly, but still. There are more than a hundred mega cities on Earth, and most samurai don''t care to be the representative of any of them." I supposed that kind of made sense. "So New Montreal is important?" She snorted. "Deus no," she said. "We''re barely tickling the definition of mega city here, not compared to plenty of other places. New Montreal is only important because we''re north of Mega New York and a few other east-coast actual mega cities. We serve as a wall for the antithesis coming in from the north. We barely produce anything here." "Okay," I said. Felt a little mean to hear my home talked about that way, but she was probably not wrong. "Didn''t know there was such a hierarchy going on." "It''s nothing official. I think one in ten samurai actually care. But for those of us that do, it''s a neat way to keep things organized and functional. In any case, one of the duties of a city representative is caring for and elevating new samurai. I usually make a point of meeting any up-and-comers, so that they at least know to reach out to me if something happens." I nodded slowly. "And that''s it?" "No... I''ve been somewhat neglecting part of my duties while off-world. Fortunately... hmm, how do I put this." She pinched her chin between forefinger and thumb. "I always put one-hundred percent effort into everything I do." "Okay." "Unless there''s any logical way for me to avoid having to do something by foisting the work onto someone else. In which case, I will always do that." "That doesn''t sound like one-hundred percent," I said. Deus Ex shrugged. "I''m only one girl. I can only be in thirty-six places at once." I squinted at her. Was she fucking with me? "Anyway, I''m here to foist some work off onto you." "No thanks," I said. "You don''t seem to understand the current disparity in abilities when it comes to either of our capabilities with regards to refusing work," she said. It took me a moment to untangle that. "Are you saying that you''re better at being lazy than I am?" "Like an amateur next to a master," she agreed. "I''m not doing whatever it is you want," I said. "I made sure to schedule things around your little school outings," she said. "Because I''m nice like that." *** Chapter Twenty-One - Babysitting the Nukes Chapter Twenty-One - Babysitting the Nukes "LF babysitter, 5 kids, no smokers, druggies, college dropouts, or filthy liberals. $7/hr." Facemeta Marketplace post, 2027 *** "If you''re going to make me do your work for you, you''d better have some serious bribes lined up," I said. "My schedule right now is filled to bursting." "So is everyone''s," Deus Ex said. "But I can sympathize a little. I rarely have a day with fewer than eighteen hours of work time lined up in it. Sundays excepting, of course." I wanted to pinch the bridge of my nose. I also wanted to pinch Deus Ex''s chubby little cheeks, but if she didn''t have some sort of pain-regulating cyberware, then I''d eat my hat. I''d have to buy a hat first, but the point stood. "What even is the job?" I asked. "There are half a dozen new samurai around New Montreal, which is a feat. We usually gain one or two a year, but the global incursion and the previous local incursion increased our numbers substantially. Before you there was Gomorrah, and before her Cause Player. There have been more since. Now, telling samurai what to do is a lost cause. We don''t take well to orders." "You don''t say." "Let me rephrase that. We don''t take well to orders unless they''re reasonable and backed with a big stick. In this situation we''re both in right now, I am both very reasonable and have a very big stick." Could I aim the Big Gun at Deus Ex''s station and get away with it? "Right now, with my main body off-planet, the local samurai newbies don''t have any directions to work towards. That has, historically, caused issues." I perked up a little at that. "What kinds of issues?" Deus Ex hummed. "Give someone lots of power, a complete detachment from responsibility, and the drive to act even if there''s no cause for them to act towards, and that person will find something to use their powers on. That usually means massive destabilization. We all hate the corps, but you can only blow up so many skyscrapers before it starts causing issues." "Uh-huh," I said. "And we don''t want that?" "No. The other problem is that new samurai tend to, briefly, believe that they''re immortal or untouchable. Just because higher-tier samurai tend to respond to threats to newbies with violence doesn''t mean that you''re all immune to bullets to the head. Having your death avenged won''t stop you from being dead in the first place." That... was fair. "Okay," I said. "So... what do you want me to do about all of this?" Deus Ex gestured vaguely off to one side. "Babysit." "No," I said. "I''ve done that for most of my life, and it was for actual babies and kids. I''m not going to do it for adults." The little shit had the audacity to roll her eyes. "I meant that figuratively. Really, I just need you to check up on the newbies. Make a point of showing up where they are and make sure they''re not in too much trouble. Maybe direct them towards something constructive to do that won''t get them killed. I did the same for you." I blinked. "Wait! You sent me on a wild goose chase all across the city that second time we met," I said. "Exactly," she said with a nod. "It kept you busy and working on something that was relatively low-level. Low-risk work that was still important and gave you valuable experience." I was very quickly developing a headache. If I actually thought about it... yeah, Deus had helped me. She''d put Lucy and the kittens up in that hotel we stayed at for a while before getting our house. She gave Gomorrah and I a few softball missions, and then told us about Mars before the news broke to everyone else. Fuck, was Deus actually helpful? "You''d be a lot easier to work with if you weren''t such a pain in the ass," I said. "You know, I''ve actually heard something similar before. Never saw the point in complaining about it. I get work done in a rapid and efficient manner. Your whinging changes nothing about that. Besides, what I''m asking you to do is good for you as well." "Yeah?" I asked. "Yes. You''ll be forging alliances and friendships with local samurai who are close to your own rank. You''ve made friends with some that are... to put it lightly, above you. People like Grasshopper and Emoscythe. The cabal of newbies out there will eventually grow as well. It''s a little strange, but we as samurai tend to organize ourselves in little cliques that are more or less generational." Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. I sniffed. "You have a generation as well?" "Yes," she said. "Though... most of those from this region are dead. It''s only me and maybe four, five others now." "Oh," I said. Deus Ex blinked, and I got a ping on my Augs. When I opened it, I found a semi-transparent page appearing over my vision, the window floating a few feet ahead. It was a list. Local Newbies That Need Babysitting Crackshot Cowboy Gros Baton Hedgehog Princess (Knight) Shy Stray Cat Tankette "Why am I on that list? Wait, I get Grasshopper and like Emoscythe not needing any help, they''re established and shit, but why isn''t Gomorrah on here? She''s been a samurai for like, a few weeks more than me." "She''s mature and capable," Deus Ex said. "And I''m not?" I complained. She just stared. "Sam-O-Ray and Cause Player don''t need babysitting, even if they''re not tier three juggernauts. They''ve found their niche and are smart enough not to bite off more than they can chew," Deus Ex said. "The rest... they''re all over the place. Some need encouragement, some will need to be pointing in a workable direction, others might need to be calmed down and told to chill." She shrugged. "You know, I''m not the right kind of person for this," I said. "Gomorrah would be better. And I''m not just saying that to avoid the work." That was a nice bonus. "Yeah, maybe. But Gomorrah isn''t as personable. She might do better with someone like Hedgehog, maybe. He seems like the sort that would take someone serious better, but for the rest? I think you''ll do." "I''ve got school," I said. "I don''t particularly care," Deus Ex replied. I wondered if throttling her clone actually hurt the real her? I settled for giving her the finger. "Fuck off. I''ve got my own shit going on too." "I told you already, I set up a schedule that won''t interfere too much with your stuff. It''s a part-time job at most. And it''s not forever. I''m not dropping all of my responsibilities. When the next generation of samurai show up, I''ll foist them onto someone else." "Wow, you are transparent about this, huh?" I asked. She grinned. "I am nothing if not honest. Anyway, here''s the schedule for the meetings." I got another ping, this time a calendar file with dates and times for various meet-ups. It looked like there was one every free day for the next two weeks. Including tonight. "What the hell? Tonight?" I asked. "Did you have anything else planned?" Deus Ex asked. "Yes! Sex! Lots and lots of it!" I said. The girl''s nose crinkled. "Disgusting," she said. "This is a far better use of your time. There are even better ways to get what you get from sex without having to actually have it." I paused. "What in the fuck are you on about?" I asked. "If you just want pleasure, there''s drugs for that," she said. "Far cleaner and significantly more efficient." "Wow," I said. "I don''t even know where to begin addressing that." "You really don''t have to. In fact, I insist that you don''t. I''ve spoken about it at length with my therapist and we''ve come to the mutual understanding that I''m right about it," she said. I paused, rocking back for a moment. "I don''t think that''s how therapy works? You''re not meant to convince the therapist of anything. It''s not a game." "And that attitude is why I''m always winning and you''re here wasting time with a childless marriage." "I''m not actually married," I said. "And I have like... nine kids and a dog." Deus Ex stared at me some more. "Wow," she said, but she said it in a way that was dripping with sarcasm. "You are a mean little gremlin child," I said. "I''ve been called that too," Deus said. She sighed. "Sorry. I''ve been... stressed? I tend to default to being somewhat rude when there''s a lot weighing on me. It''s a bad habit, but also one of those that''s turned out to be useful at times." And now she was sounding all earnest and real and shit. I sighed. "Fine, I get it," I said. "Heh, you believed me so easily," she said, a smug grin right back in place. "Anyway, tonight you''re working with Shy. Good luck. I''ve got to go. Oh... I figured I ought to pay you for this, since credits aren''t actually worth anything but at your level they might still be useful, so... I don''t know, expect delivery in your account for every hour worked. Anyway, I have more important people to talk to." *** Chapter ??? - Two Weeks Battle Royale II