Changing the subject to something really important, I asked Al. “Do we have any cool toys or stuff that goes boom, like guns, or tanks, I’ll settle for a mecha?” Al lit up my HUD and I headed to the ‘Armory’. My eyes lit up, opening the door, which did that cool swoosh sound, I found a room loaded with all sorts of shiny gizmo’s and whatchamacallits lining walls and stuffed in crates. “Yay” I clap my hands like a crazy man. I go to pull one off the wall and it clatters to the floor in rusted pieces. “Al, WTF man, did no one know how to make quality goods?” All the key components worked, minus a charge, but bolts, screws, and other necessary components were junk. Made from the cheapest materials, that barely held things together. Damn Corporations always trying to save a buck.
“Alright Al, I give up, just give me a tour of the bunker. Leave the fabricator for last, I’m going to spend a lot of time making cool stuff. Really wanted a mecha.” I pouted, following Al’s guide on the tour of broken toys.
Surprisingly, the bunker wasn’t all that big. Let me rephrase that, it was huge, but there were only four floors that were useful. The rest was a sardine packed freezer of unawakened peoplecicles.
We had the top floor, located under several tons of rock. There was a command center, which Al failed to inform me of until I specifically asked, a luxury residence floor, a supply depot, and the fabricator floor.
The Command Center came with all the bells and whistles. Everything you’d need to operate a small war, from environment mapping scanners, life-sign detectors, and some cool communications gear. The radio was tiny, like crawling on the floor to find it when you dropped it tiny. Al wasn’t to impressed my my imitation of a crab walk looking for it.
The residence floor reminded me of those swanky 5-star hotels I could never afford. Canopied beds that could easily accommodate ten people. Those little toilets that squirt water up your bum, bidet, Al informed me. I was also informed each room came fully stocked for daily use, had a drawing room, a waiting room, and like 3 other rooms. There were 20 suite’s located on this floor. So I had room enough for 120 people, with everyone taking a room. Seemed pretty spacious to me. I was sure the future would require me to build a town or something to accommodate everyone still in the deep freeze.
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The supply depot was basically a write off. The weapons and gear hadn’t seen any proper maintenance, or been built with quality in mind. But, yeah for me, we had enough of those lovely nutritional circle’s to last for years. I wonder if lions make for good steak?
Finally, it came time to print myself some cool toys. The Fabricator room was pretty empty. Exiting the elevator to the sound of my footsteps echoing for fucking ever, I finally see my new baby.
She was a monster. At 200 ft wide, 600 ft long, and 30 ft tall. All shiny metal and bright blinking lights. Apparently, they could build stuff to last, just had to be important. Sadly, with our limited power supply I wasn’t going to get a fully equipped mecha. Let’s see a troll fight, with a robotic size 50, up his ass. Al pointed out I could have a mecha, if I wanted to build it piece by piece, but seriously, that was never gonna happen. At Least not by my hand.
Al queued up a priority list that would allow us to slowly raise our power supply, a couple thousand generators to produce the next tier. But that would have to wait until I kitted myself out with all the cool kickass gizmo’s and the iconic leather duster.
I started out with a woodlands mottled classic duster to help me blend in the nearby woods, making sure the inside was a reversible winter mottled, since you know, mountains have snow. Genius right. After several arguments with AL, I finally managed a dragon skin body armor, made with alloy’s and polymers Al rattled off, but I didn’t care to listen. Bullet proof up to a .50 caliber round at 200 ft, puncture proof, and flame retardant, with an energy overlay that grounded out electrical attacks. It was beautiful, sleek and badass. No more would I have to feel like a turtle with a modular tactical vest.
After Al’s bitch fest about wasting power, I was finally geared to have a chance of survival. From .01% to almost 1% according to Al. A pair of dark brown jungle boots, mottled cargo trousers tucked into em, a frog suit shirt covered by my new dragon skin armor, layered over with a tactical load-bearing vest in black, and my awesome camouflage duster. I almost went with an australian hat, but that felt to fallout for me.
As for weapons, I had a knife. Not the crocodile dundee knife, but something you would find in a kitchen, with a little serration. Apparently, I exceeded my power allowance creating everything else. For some reason Al was disinclined to tell me where his core room was, it’s not like I had a maniacal glint to my eyes and a crappy knife to go a carvin.