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.”