Some things are impossible to avoid in your career, especially for samurai.
All get their AI, their first weapon not long after, then begin a burning crusade against our enemies. Unfortunately, the other side to the coin is not nearly as much fun.
We learn the hard way that rather than Antithesis, humanity is our own worst enemy.
Desmond ‘Steel Hound’ Montero, when asked about the ‘Gehenna Gulf’ incident.
***
“So uh.” I shakily stand, releasing the vice grip I had on the heavy wrench, letting it clank onto the floor. “What now exactly?”
I’d recommend you get a Hemo-restore to recover the blood you lost, and a Nano-regenerative suite to restore your flesh to its normal state.
I groan, rolling my neck. “Fine, can we combine them into one application though?”
For a small upcharge of five points you can.
I shrug, holding my hand out. “Right here please.”
New Purchase!
1x Combo Nano-Hemo Injector
Cost: 30 Points
Remaining Total: 615 Points
I immediately stab the meds into my arm when they appear, wincing as my veins begin to bulge as the substance is pushed into my bloodstream. Stumbling backwards, I lean on the binder filled table to catch my breath.
“Whew, I’m gonna hate this tomorrow morning,” I mutter, rolling my shoulder, “Now that I’m healed, what’s next?”
You have a lot of options, especially considering the high amount of points you have for just having started. What kind of weapon do you wish to fight with? What kind of defensive abilities do you want to use to stay alive?
“Well, that’s a good question.” I tap my foot on the ground, my eyes locking on the wrench that had saved my life just a minute before. “How about something big and blunt?”
I have an assortment of options for you , but I personally recommend the options you receive from the Class-I Gravitational Wave Manipulators catalog. This catalog, which costs 100 points, is primarily made up of items that can only modify their own gravity, a capability which expands dramatically upon an upgrade to Class-II.
I pause, a couple things moving through my mind before I grin. The thought of floating around on a weapon like a witch absolutely tickled me.
“Okay, I’m sold. Gimme that and a decent chunker that’ll last me a while, will you, Achys?”
Understood. Put your hands out, please.
Catalog Unlocked!
Class-I Gravitational Wave Manipulators
Cost: 100 Points
New Purchase!
1x: Phys-Breaker Warpick MK-I
Cost: 100 Points
Remaining Total: 415 Points
I blink, a slight heft dropping into my hands in the split seconds my eyes are closed.
“Uh…” I mutter, staring down at the beast in my hands, “This is not a blunt weapon.”
The ridiculous thing is like a pickaxe on steroids, only with one of the sides stopping half way to form a flat stub. I swing it around a bit to find it has a perfect balance, seemingly almost none of the weight from the pickaxe head affecting it. I bring it to a vertical position and slam the bottom of the handle into the ground, finding that the weapon is just a bit shorter than me.
To be fair, one side of it is, and you can use the other to more easily end your opponents after disorienting them. I determined it fit the parameters of your request sufficiently, even going beyond what you asked for.
“That’s not really…” I sigh, shaking my head. “Okay, no more vague requests, lesson learned. Next, I’m pretty sure I need something to keep me alive in fights and if something goes wrong with the pressurization of the reef.”
We have a lot of options, what do you value in armor? Do you prefer offense, defense, mobility? Do you want it to be modular? Do you prefer more mundane options or something more esoteric?
“Modular sounds great, and I’m not sure on the benefit part,” I say, then tap my chin, “Could you explain that last one though?”
Mundane is what you would typically imagine from armor, such as alloy plates, chitin, or fancy compounds. Esoteric would be something more like force shields or biological adaptation.
“Maybe a mix?” I think for a moment, twirling my pick like a baton. “It would be nice to have something that doesn’t require me to clunk around in a ugly metal suit. Biological adaptation to become something a bit more than human sounds interesting, but going all the way into that sounds a bit…”
Fair, yes, it’s a sentiment shared by many of your fellow humans. If you’re on the edge, perhaps you might like the Class-I Symbiotic Techno-Viral Modules, which runs for one-hundred points.
I nearly drop my weapon as I listen to my AI’s words.
“Viral? Like a virus?” I scrunch my face, looking at nothing in particular.
Indeed, the technology is quite ingenious. It utilizes cells infected with a custom techno-virus, allowing for a central computer to control their function in unison. The cells spread out across your body in a thin film, rapidly duplicating before an impact to protect you, and afterwards the virus can cause rapid mutation to better handle a similar impact in the future. In addition, you can add specific mutations yourself through buying them, such as the environmental adaptation capabilities you desire. The technology is remarkably efficient at what it does.
“What’s the catch?” I impatiently tap my pick on the ground. “Seems too good to be true.”
There are a few, the biggest and foremost being the difficulty in removing the cellular tissue after extended combat. It has a tendency to molecularly stick to skin when exposed to sweat. Thankfully, someone found a way to remove it through external means, though it’s tedious at best.
In addition, while it has an independent power source that can regenerate over time, if the stored energy is not sufficient or when it needs to recover energy quickly, it searches for an… alternative source.
“So they eat stuff?” I bite my lower lip, imagining that sight. “What would it even…?”
It’s been observed that the virus will only ever go for the most convenient source of liquid biomass. This would normally be Antithesis blood, but in the case that there is no other source nearby…
I shiver, touching my heart. “How much would it… drink?”
In all cases where it consumes from its host, only as much as it would need to endure the blast, and never all of it. Worst case scenario, you get minor blood loss symptoms.
“And you’re sure this won’t make me sick?” I mutter, definitely still a bit hesitant.
Absolutely. Though, there is also a slight chance of negative mutations, skin irritation, depression, or the virus developing into a sentient entity, but I wouldn’t be too worried about that one, as long as you don’t coddle it.
“I-” I pause, my mind failing to parse that sentence. “How do you even coddle a virus?”
Lots and lots of food. Do you have any more questions?
“I-I’m not…” I sigh, clicking my tongue. “Fine, let’s do it. I honestly like the idea, and it’s not permanent, so if I end up disliking it I can just get rid of it.”
Understood. It will be one hundred fifty plus the cost of the catalog for the suit along with its upgrade. Is this acceptable?
“Haa… Yup.” I raise my thumb up to the sky, as if Achys was floating above me. I probably look like an idiot.
Catalog Unlocked!
Class-I Symbiotic Techno-Viral Modules
Cost: 100 Points
New Purchase!
1x External Viral Adaptation Skinsuite
Cost: 100 Points
1x Environmental-Adaptation V-Mutation
Cost: 50 Points
Remaining Total: 165 Points
Two rather sterile looking transparent plastic boxes appear on the ground, and I reach down to pick the larger of the two up. Inside, there is a metal bracelet with a glass orb in its center, and within it a glob of gray gloop writhes around, parts of it sticking to the glass for a moment before it slowly pulls off. I grimace at the sight, raising an eyebrow. Regardless, I puff my cheeks, then breathe slowly out of my puckered lips as I mutter:
“Sunk-Cost Fallacy, Emme, Sunk-Cost Fallacy.”
Not giving myself time to rethink things, I hastily press the large button on the side of the box; It clicks open, and I hesitantly click the bracelet onto my wrist. There is a hiss of air as the side of the armlet opens, the goop allowed to escape its prison. A strange, incredibly unpleasant crawling sensation begins slowly climbing up my arm, the cellular tissue covering the majority of my skin with itself. It only stops right around my face, stretching up to cover everything else on my head, including my hair. Once I’m fully covered, I reach up to look at my hand, finding that seemingly nothing has changed.
I tilt my head, then shrug and open the second box. Within is a small yet thick vial of a similar slime to what was within the bracelet, yet this version is a pasty white. I press the small indent on the side down, finding that the entire vial shatters, allowing the virus to shoot onto me.
It’s much more pleasant then the first, seemingly weaving itself into the membrane already stretched across my body, very slightly changing the color to a more pale hue, changing my skin to appear almost like a stereotypical vampire. Snickering at that thought, I realize something and reach up to my mouth, finding a serious problem with the environmental protection aspect of that purchase.
I stick my thumb into my mouth, touching its roof. “Achys, why is it not covering everything? How am I supposed to survive underwater?”
It’ll extend to cover any orifices when needed.
“I-” I sigh, shaking my head. “Yeah, that makes sense. Let’s get moving.”
Did you obtain information upon where that Model Ten-T came from exactly? I cannot seem to connect to the systems in this lab.
“Yeah, I did.” Walking past the giant vats, I walk up to a set of open doors that I knew the monster had to have come from. “You’re really not going to like it.”
I turn into the hallway, the walls of which are lined with small cells with thick glass doors and exterior walls, revealing their innards for anyone to see. I approach the first, and find my breath caught in my throat at the horrid sight of what was inside. The true implications begin to sink in, and I have to slam my weapon into the ground to stay standing.
Oh. I see what you meant now. I assumed it was simply foolish corporate research into Antithesis.
Not… something like this.
In the darkness of the small room, a small figure lays curled up in the corner, its chest unmoving, pinkish foam collected in its mouth. Its skin is wrinkled and desiccated, including the lower half of its body that had been surgically replaced with what appeared to be the grayish green flesh of an antithesis. A small picture appears on my glasses, a seemingly happy young woman in the prime of her life.
Tristana Jaeger, age twenty seven. Vanished two years ago on the sixth floor without a trace. Now confirmed deceased ten minutes ago by a gaseous compound similar to Sarin gas.
To be honest, that isn't what has my attention at the moment. Instead, my eyes are locked onto the small interface console beside the cell door, which displays just two words:
'Purge Complete.'
I lean on my pick, feeling tears form beneath my eyes. I shakily suck in a breath, then exhale slowly.
Oh my. I… Emmelyn…
I slam the butt of my weapon into the ground, silencing Achys. Sobs claw at my throat as I lose myself in a dark thicket of dread, until my thoughts flee onto the stage, where a spotlight illuminates nothing but a familiar, lonely mask.
My mask.
I don’t hesitate to put it on, letting the harmonic song spiraling out from my heart take the lead, bring me into a space where the raging twister of emotions ripping through me will no longer have control.
“No one here to guide you, now you’re on your own.”
I look down the corpse, which is larger then the first, it's right arm replaced with what seems like the tiny bladed arm of the humanoid alien I killed just minutes earlier. A new picture appears on my lens, a rough looking man in his thirties.
“Only me beside you..."
I lower my head as my throat trembles, the next words refusing to arise. To my surprise, I am not the one to utter the next words; Achys' normal tone dips into a pleasing contralto as she sorrowfully sings:
Still, you’re not alone.
She pauses before continuing as I stiffly straighten my back.
No one is alone, Truly, no one is alone.
Mechanically, I force myself to the next box, glaring down at the crumpled flesh inside. This time, it's leg is the one that has been replaced, an ugly necrosis spreading around it's hip. As the image of a elderly woman appears, Achys' words are like a hot dagger in my heart.
Sometimes people leave you, halfway through the wood.
“Others may deceive you,” My face scrunches, and it takes everything I have not to shatter the glass. “You decide what’s good.”
I clench the handle of my hammer hard, walking to the next cell as I ruefully intone. “You decide alone.”
Achys' response is swift, a lyrical rebuttal against my frustration.
No one is alone.
I look into the next window, the tiny figure inside making my stomach drop and rage disperse. My face warps in anguish, knowing what I am looking at. “I wish-”
I know.
The image this time is a young child on a swing, no more than seven. I sniffle, clutching my chest with my free hand. My legs tremble, and unable to tear my eyes away, I slam my fist into the wall.
“Momma isn’t here now… Who knows what she’d say.” I take a breath as I step back, shaking my head and closing my eyes. “Nothing’s quite so clear now…"
I clench my teeth, as I quaver, "Wrong things, right things. Who can say what’s true?"
Achys doesn’t immediately respond, but her voice is resolute when she does.
Feel you’ve lost your way? Do things, fight things.
You decide, but-
A chill runs down me as I let myself once again see the light, accept the change in tone. I bite my lip, then quietly sing,
“You are not alone.”
The relief in Achys' voice is palpable.
Believe me.
“No one is alone.” I raise my weapon, resting it on my shoulder. “No one is alone.”
Believe me. Truly.
Nodding, I take another deep breath before I begin to walk down the hall, giving each cell just enough of a glance so Achys can pull up their identities, which have begun to collect enough to block a decent portion of my vision.
You move just a finger, say the slightest word.
Another image pops up, followed by another. I lightly tap the pick against a tile as I walk, the slight impact completely shattering it as I croon, "Something’s bound to linger. Be heard."
I then freeze, my hand clenching around the shaft of the pick as I scowl at a monochrome mural stating the name of the lab that they had deemed necessary to paste upon the wall. I slam my hammer into the ground, utterly shattering a portion of the floor before I continue, “No one acts alone.”
Careful, no one is alone.
On cue, a small box detailing the information of 'Montero-Wisteria Labs' appears, and I take a moment to look through it as I walk. I soon reach the end of the hallway, the only thing left before me is a gigantic sealed shut blast door. I stare down into the final cell where the last person lays, their body cold and still. Unlike the rest, they don't seem to have had any of the horrific surgery done on them, but they had been culled with the rest nonetheless. The final image appears on my glasses, before I stuff them all into a folder that I label 'lab' before sticking it deep into my systems. I walk over to the wall, letting myself lean against it for a moment as I hug myself. Obviously aware of the distress I am feeling, Achys is the one who sings:
People make mistakes, fathers, mothers.
“People make mistakes, holding to their own.” I sigh, then smile ruefully. “Thinking they’re alone.”
Honor their mistakes. Fight for their mistakes. Everybody makes-
“One another’s terrible mistakes.” I lift the weapon up above my head, the tool of destruction seeming not weighing anything at all. "Witches can be right, Giants can be good."
You decide what’s right. You decide what’s good. Just remember-
"Someone is on my side."
I take a deep breath, then begin my swing.
Our side.“Our side.”
With a resounding boom, the blast door is no more, and I feel the viral membrane close, indicating something truly bad was in the air. The gigantic room is absolutely filled with large Antithesis pods and leaves, all connected to a stem in its very center. Artificial lights dot the roof, fake suns for fake plants.
I bring my pick forward, clasping it in both hands as I walk forward.
Someone else is not. While we’re seeing our side-
There are alien corpses littered about the room, but unfortunately, not all of them are dead. Three of them are Model-Ten variants similar to the one I faced before, but there are also two gigantic six legged armored salamander-like aliens, the leaves on the side of their heads like an Axolotl.
“Maybe we forgot,” I take a step forward, then another. “They are not alone.”
As the larger beasts stumble towards me, the Tens screech as they begin to coordinate, cautiously circling around to surround me. I take a swipe with the hammer at one that gets too close, but it simply steps away out of my range before I hit it. I gasp as one of the other Tens extends its tail out to stab me, the serrated spike striking true, sinking into flesh.
Just not mine.
No one is alone.
A gooey hexagon made by the virus had absorbed the blow, rendering the blow null.
I grin, then turn to the salamanders and flip my weapon. I rush forward, swinging the pick down upon one’s head. The spike goes through its skin and bone armor like butter, and the giant begins to convulse as I leap back a step. While I made my blow, two of the Tens had apparently decided to take the opportunity to attack, as when I peek behind me they are almost upon me.
I don’t hesitate, lifting my weapon just a bit out of the salamander, I turn it ninety degrees, then let my hands fall down the grip as I swing the hammerhead like a bat. Similar to the first of their kind I fought, the Tens futily attempt to block the blow with their arms, and the sickeningly sweet crack of shattered bones fills my ears on impact. I drag the two monsters along the arc of the swing, letting them go flying when I manage to spot the third Ten approaching out of the corner of my eye. I take a backstep as I turn, then swing vertically with the pick to slam the spike into its slightly protruding chest.
Even if I am doing an okay job, it’s apparently not enough as the second larger model rams into me, sending me tumbling across the room. I barely manage to right myself, absolutely thankful for the swiftly vanishing virus leather. I doubt I would have survived that otherwise. After shaking myself off and wiping a bit of blood from my lips, I run forward. I slide to a stop as I approach my opponent, stabbing the top of my weapon out like a spear. Apparently that’s more than enough, as my weapon sinks down to my hands within the Salamander’s head.
Grimacing, I pull it out, my entire body now covered in sticky green blood. I glance around at the carnage, then shrug and walk to the central stem. I take a deep breath, then drop the hammer. Two simultaneous cracks occur; One of the wood-like brainstem of the hive breaking into two, and of electrical wires that it had grown around. A small fire begins from the sparks the now loose wires are emitting, and I just shake my head as I walk away.
“Hard to see the light now.” I scowl, the heat of the flames behind me swiftly intensifying.
Just don’t let it go.
As I walk I pause one last time in front of my mural, searing it's image into my mind.
Things will come out right now.
A small smile appears on my lips as I close my eyes, then nod. “We can make it so.”
Someone is on your side-
I smash the logo into a thousand pieces.