The ‘armoury’ was more of a gunshop that rented its weapons for a limited time. Volly had said that he could permanently purchase one but then she went on to say that it was only legal within the compound. Disconcertingly, She’d explained this to him with the gravity and sorrow of a person informing someone else that a beloved relative had just passed on, and now they had to take care of their affairs.
So the moment he left, all that money would have been wasted on nothing, and considering how expensive even just renting a gun was, he didn’t come close to wanting to consider just how much it must cost to permanently own one.
He had taken a look at a gun that seemed identical to the one he was given when he first arrived and it cost three hundred and five credits.
The armoury didn’t just have guns either; it also had medical kits and protective armour. There was even a section for grenades and other assorted explosives.
He ended up just renting a semi-automatic rifle. He would have gone for a cheaper option, but almost everything was military grade and, therefore, naturally expensive.
It was compatible with different magazine types, and to play things on the safe side, he rented the larger version, which could hold thirty-five bullets, over the smaller one, which only held twenty.
It took longer than it should have for him to finalise the renting process since the cashier had spelt his name wrong. Twice. But, eventually, she got it right, and he left the armoury with a gun at his side.
“You smell pretty bad, by the way.” Volly said out of the blue, as they were walking towards where the managers were stationed.
“Ah, yeah I kind of got drugged before I could take a shower. Went through the decontamination process though, so shouldn’t I smell fine?”
“I don’t know, maybe you just naturally stink.” She said, shrugging.
“I have the hunter class, so I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. Maybe you’re smelling yourself? Actually, hang on, why are you smelling me? That's weird.” He said, shooting her a sideways glance.
With her eyebrows raised, she stretched out her arm and flipped him off.
“I’d say take a shower before going out, but it doesn’t matter. You’ll just come back dirty anyway.”
“Is that how most of your kills end, covered in blood?”
“Blood, guts, sweat, fear. The whole cocktail of what it means to be alive.”
“How? You use a gun, don’t you?” Thome asked, feeling thoroughly confused.
“Yeah, but my class is brute. Almost all my boons require me to be up close and personal, tearing whatever unlucky thing I’m fighting’s face off. I get bonus points if I eat it.”
“Wait, do you actually get bonus experience points for eating faces?” If that was the case then this would be the new, single strangest class he knew of.
“Well not for eating faces, but the more brutal the kill, the more experience. The more clean the kill, the less experience.”
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The conversation naturally died down once they reached the manager's station. Everything there was pure white and utterly stainless just like every other part of the facility, but it also had a strange sort of aura about it.
Like the very building material itself found Thomel to be unclean and impure. Looking over at the sweat on Volly's forehead, he assumed she felt it too.
Each and every last one of the managers was busy talking to someone, so Thomel and Volly found a smallish line and waited in it for their chance to speak to one of the higher-ups’ lap dogs.
Thomel himself didn’t quite know how to feel about managers in general. They were in a weird state between being just another employee and being the boss of said employee.
He was already quite committed to hating these ones, but when his turn came, he took care to hide it.
“Together?” The white cloak-wearing woman said in a raspy voice.
Volly held out her arms, like she was reaching for a hug. Then she dropped them. “No, just showing this new guy around, he wants one though.”
“There’s a free spot available in about ten minutes for one person. You’ve got a few choices, but I’m guessing you want to go after the unicorns?” The manager stated, staring inquisitively at Thomel.
“Are unicorns a good choice?” He quickly asked Volly.
“Yeah, they’re a pretty good choice for target practice, not such a good choice if you want a challenge. I say go for a manticore” Was her quick reply
“I’ll take the unicorns.” Thomel told the manager, completely disregarding Volly's recommendation.
“Done, get to the station in nine minutes or come back here to be scheduled again.” She said, shooing them off with one hand in a demanding fashion.
Walking off, Thomel asked Volly a question he’d been wondering since he walked in here. “How come they do all this here and not at the relay station?”
The simple answer he got back was. “I don’t know and don’t care.”
Getting to the relay station was a surprisingly simple affair; they just had to go back to the large, intersection-type room and then head left of the stairs, going down one of the large hallways.
There were a few checkpoints that hardly slowed them as they were incredibly lax, and they were just let through with barely a word spoken at all.
“Do you know, or care, why they’re so lax?” He questioned Volly about it, not really expecting an answer.
“Because we’re underground? This whole thing is some long-abandoned military base that’s been refurbished and expanded. I don’t think there’s even any way to reach the surface now, the only way in and out is through teleportation. So yeah I know and no I don’t care, it’s good for us. Everything is relaxed and runs smoothly.”
“But I came in from the surface?” He said, puzzled.
“Yeah to a different base, there’s a couple of them scattered around.”
“Oh that makes sense, kind of. Isn’t the Lonel corporation specialised in debt collection and security? Why are they investing so much into this?”
Volly just glanced at him blankly, then shrugged.
They walked in silence for the last bit of the trek, with Volly patting him on the back and him giving her a heartfelt thank you once they reached the final checkpoint before the relay station.
Just like with all the others they didn’t even bother to check him; they just gave him a nod and then ushered him forward.
He wondered how many of them were watching sports or cat videos in their visors.
It had to at least be over fifty percent but the question was if it was higher than eighty. He felt like the answer was yes.
Stepping into the relay station was an entirely different experience than last time. This one was the size of a football field and filled with technicians, guards, and all other manner of different classes and personnel.
Yet the process was much the same; he was directed towards a glimmering wave of eldritch air, which contorted and shaped reality around itself.
And once he stepped inside, he was gone.