It isn’t about killing monsters. It’s about how you look doing it.

--Jason “Astral King” Asano

***

I sighed and grabbed the brace of pistols. When I pulled one out of the holster, I found a long, boxy pistol done up in chrome. The barrel was slightly longer than I was used to, but the grip settled in my hand comfortably. The weight was light and balanced slightly farther back than I was used to. But when I aimed at random points, the UI’s reticle landed where I intended. I’d have to see how well they stopped aliens, but they seemed adequate. I quickly donned the harness and holstered the pistols.

Finished with the pistols, I turned my attention to the box. Out of a sense of irony, I dropped to my knees before the box and bowed to it. I opened it up and decided the presentation was justified. This time.

In a field of black velvet padding lay two naked silver blades—two long fangs. Beside them lay the empty sheaths of polished ebony. A single edge swept up to a sharp point, opposite a thicker straight back, which led directly into the short vertical crossguard, also in chrome. Beyond the guard was an extended hilt wrapped with criss-crossed rope that ended in an abrupt end. The hilt reminded me of the traditional Japanese tsuka, the cross guard of a medieval European sword, and the blade felt echoed a turn of the last century bayonet.

I sheathed them, and Ginny helped me fasten the pair on my back. Kaitlyn wasn’t a big fan of the crossed sword look and insisted on a change. After a couple test draws, I agreed that it didn’t work for my arm length. With some quick experimentation, we found that a vertical mount worked better. Kaitlyn approved the change, muttering about subverting the tropes and setting a new standard.

Armed and ready, I saw that the other shooters had caught up, so I moved forward as quietly as I could. As the doorway came into sight, I drew both pistols and made sure I knew how to change the battery packs.

The doorway stood to my right this time, and I pressed against that wall as I approached. The drone camera still showed the mass of aliens on the wall above the door. They hadn’t moved yet. I wasn’t sure if that was because they were more patient than I expected or if they hadn’t heard me. I leapt into the room and started firing upwards at an angle. The barrier was at my back for the moment, while I fired at the M-4s above me.

Real laser guns, I found out, did not crack. Nor did they pew, zip, or even squeal. They hissed. Months later, I learned that the noise was from the laser burning off the atoms in the atmosphere as they passed by. At the time, I didn’t care. The lack of noise lent a very surreal feel to the battle. Hst, Hst. Hst-hst.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

After four shots with each pistol, I had to dodge back into the hallway. Six bodies fell on the catwalk, two right where I’d been standing. One hit the railing and slumped over to fall into the machine room. The other lashed out with its tentacles, I dodged most of them, but one of the spikes clipped my visor.

I countered with a laser to the mass of tentacles it used as a face. It slumped to the ground, only to be replaced by another. More dropped into the doorway, forcing me back to avoid the whipping tentacles. I felt a tingle in my palms, and in my glasses, a notice started blinking. I was nearly out of charge for both weapons. I fired the left hand pistol one last time, then threw it at one of the M-4s.

Corie was already dropping a battery into my hand, and I hot-swapped cartridges before drawing my left-hand blade. The tentacles swarmed around me now. I dodged, bowing under one sweeping limb to block another with the blade. The M-4 drew back a stump. A Four had moved around to my right, where nothing stood between it and the evacuees. I unleashed on it, using the last 3 shots to drop the M-4, but another’s long tentacle whipped the spiked end into my thigh. I cut off the tentacle as I drew my other sword.

“Six left. But the ones from the console are joining soon. Pull back, and we’ll help. You need healing.” Tara said in the conference call. I had no idea how she had counted the beasts in the close quarters.

I pushed against the body of one with my injured leg, ignoring the spike of pain. With a flick, my swords reached out. One passed clean through the alien’s head. The other sliced off a leg and a large tentacle from another. I spun, and a wide-flung blade sliced through another body. Even deep cuts met very little resistance to the edge. In the back of my mind, I wondered how sharp these things were.

I was feeling lightheaded, probably from too much spinning. I still managed to dodge the next tentacle, only to stagger into the body of another. I drove both swords into it to the hilts. With a savage yell, I sliced both blades clear to catch two more in their necks on each side of me. The bodies fell, the weight dragging my blades with them.

For some reason, the light was getting dark. I couldn’t see any more of the Anti’s, but I did hear gunfire. I slumped to the floor, leaning to the right. I recognized the sharp brrrt of my P5-AT. From the sound of it, I realized that the chamber was getting dirty. I’d have to clean it soon. It was joined by the dak dak of the AK-47. Steady as a rock. A couple more, deeper rifles filled in as I settled to my side. For some reason, I felt very tired. So very tired...

--Marcus, you’ve lost a lot of blood, and your vitals are dropping. Do you want me to get some healing supplies?

Corie’s voice sounded worried. What was she saying? Something about blood and healing. One of the ex-prisoners must have been hurt. Of course, I wanted to heal them.

I tried to speak but lacked the strength. It was easier to think at her.

--Very good. Hang on, Marcus. Ginny’s here, and she’ll be able to help you.

I felt warm arms wrap around me and roll me onto my back. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought back to the battle and realized I should have used a Stegosaur below the door to keep the Anti's from swarming me. I’d have to do better next time.