Chapter Twenty-Two – Cheesing it

Chapter Twenty-Two – Cheesing it

“That’s stupid.

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.”