Bright City - The War
Been ten days since Big Cheddar died. Ten days since half the city crawled out of glitched sleep tubes. All dry and half dead. Woke to a city leveled. And a war that was out of drones and looking for bodies.
Kyle had gone to sleep as a low level enforcer for Crypto Bro. Which was a pretty dicey position after the Tournament Riot. The Cheddardrome and the Immobile Market were both out for blood. Mostly each other’s, but they didn’t like Crypto Bro either.
He’d got in a tube, hoping things would blow over while he slept. But when he woke, half dead in a ruined city, he’d been handed a gun and a bottle of water. Never told what side he was on - just the mission. Champion-bots had turned his arena into a post-apocalyptic pizza empire. They must be destroyed. Apparently.
Kyle had never liked Champion, and wasn’t against his destruction, but he wasn’t keen to be a part of the operation. Especially now that there were hundreds of Champion-bots. Unfortunately, his desires were not deemed mission critical. He fought, because the punishment for cowardice was death. What kind of world kills you for wanting to live? Two for flinching run amok.
Sometimes they rushed the walls of Pizza Empire. Sometimes they ambushed Champions out on cheese runs. They lost either way. Chucking soldiers into graves. The odd Champion got shredded, but it was never worth it. Kyle survived by luck, and by keeping an eye on his commanding officer. Soon as he got fragged, it was safe to run.
Days turned into weeks. Miserable, starving, terrified, and shell shocked. It was all so futile. Fucking Champions would sometimes charge through their derelict camps, killing no one, just to leave a few pizzas. Who does that? Fucking psychological warfare. They smelt so good.
Of course they couldn’t be eaten. Had to be poisoned, or something. Mind control. The officers shot anyone who touched them. Confiscated. Burned, they said. Or were the officers having pizza parties? There were rumors. Some guys had eaten the pizza. It was fine. Smelled so good. Why not eat it? Prolly fight better full of baked cheese.
Or was the box the problem? LAY DOWN YOUR GUNS. JOIN US. That’s what the boxes said. Officers couldn’t hide that. But they reframed it. Of course they want you to lay down your guns. Easier to kill you. Think there’s enough pizza for everyone? Their take was depressingly rational.
Kyle is very tired. His body, of course, but also his emotions. How long can you be terrified? Today’s officer gets fragged, but Kyle does not run. Where would he go? The Champion looms over him. Kyle lays his gun to ground. He’s not looking to switch sides. He’s done. Past that.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Except the Champion also walks past. Leaves Kyle behind. Doesn’t even take his gun. Kyle sobs. What now, what now, what now? Can’t go forward, can’t go back, why won’t this end?
That’s when the Valkyrie found him. The chrome goddess lifted him from the battlefield. Carried him through the walls he’d assaulted so many times. Through the lines at last. Rest easy, son. For you, the fight is done.
There’s no violence in the Pizza Empire. And there is enough pizza for everyone. You can eat it all day. There’s some yelling and crying, which freaks Kyle out - especially when he’s the one doing it - but nothing ever comes of it. No one wants anything from him. He’s allowed to eat pizza and be a mess.
He makes some friends. Takes a lover. She’s all fucked up too. They fix each other. Not really. But they like each other. And neither yells when the other cries.
One day, he realizes that he’s safe. How odd.
Kyle has everything he’s ever wanted. He’s happy. But… Dunno… Shouldn’t he be happier? Is there something wrong with him?
The Valkyrie returns. “There’s people trying to get to the Empire. Kinda. They’re too scared to make the trip. Somebody has to go get them.”
Fuck.
Kyle chews on this. Tells his lover. Someone got them when they were scared. Is it their turn to be Valkyries? Fuckity-fuck. They volunteer. Back to war. Or maybe not. They’re directed to the top level of the city structure. There’s a sneaky way to accomplish the mission. Apparently.
The top level of the Pizza Empire is a huge warehouse full of drones, bots, guns, and sleep tubes. Oh no. They’re introduced to the man in charge of the operation. A slim fellow with villainous facial hair, called Xan.
Oh no no no no.
“Hey dude! Do I know you? Doesn’t matter. Got people to save. Hop in a sleep tube. We’ll get mission ready on the other side.”
Kyle’s lover hops in a tube, but he hesitates. “Last time I crawled out of a sleep tube I was almost dead.”
Xan nods. Gives solemn finger guns. “That sucks. But this is a professional fucking operation. We’re here to save lives.”
Kyle nods. Gets in a tube.
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He wakes. Coughs. Feels awful. Sore. Tired. Little, frail, and old. Oh Jesus. Not again.
Kyle struggles with a cocoon of greasy sheets in a dark and dingy room. A slim villainous woman watches as he slowly fails to get out of bed.
“Hi, I’m Xan.”
“You said I wouldn’t wake up nearly dead.”
“Yeah, I lied.”
“So there aren't people who need my help?”
“There’s fuck tons of people who need help. I only lie to make things sound better. If I say everything’s fucked, it’s probably double super fucked.” She pauses. Nods. “So yeah, let’s get you fixed up, then get to work.”