Mai stood desperately blinking back tears as she watched her former comrades fortifying the sewers she was going to fight her fellow Cullers in.
“The informers know nothing of this. They think that the companies are being tasked to deal with a collapsed tunnel. We’ve also put word out that you’re going to hide in the collapsed tunnel because you think the Cullers wouldn’t dare use it,” Fat John explained as a large deposit of fat was carefully placed next to what looked like a collapsed section of wall, but was in fact a well-crafted barricade.
“Like the rules state, we haven’t placed anything which can be construed as a trap or which can cause direct harm intentionally.” He continued, pointing at the various stages of blockades which would force the enemy Cullers to either climb over them, or weave between them.
“Here you are love,” the Queen handed Mai three bottles of BIO-MASS boost. “Sorry I couldn’t get the price down, but people are people.” The old woman shot a narrow-eyed look over at a somewhat sheepish-looking man.
Mai smiled over at the man and laid a hand on the Queen’s arm.
“It’s fine. People have to make a living. He didn’t charge over the odds did he?”
“No, but that’s not the point. Not as if he’s ever going to get out of here anyway?”
“Why’s that?”
“We’re engaged,” cackled the woman. “It’s a business deal, nothing you need to know about. But he’s not leaving until I’m good and ready to let him.”
Mai wisely said nothing. He was easily twenty years older than the woman who had been revealed to her in the Queen’s sanctum.
But can I really be sure that wasn’t nano as well? Do I truly know what she looks like?
If she was honest with herself, it didn’t really matter. It was certainly a mystery, but the woman had shown herself to be a good friend and that was enough for Mai. With all of the creatures and people trying to kill her in the world, it felt good to just accept friends for what they were. Especially considering what Jonny had done to her.
“Heads up,” Fat John said. “Cullers have arrived. Seems they’ve teamed up to come for you.”
“Damn, I was hoping they’d at least come in singles or pairs, fight each other,” Mai sighed, running a critical eye over what was going to be the position of her stand.
Hopefully not a last-stand.
“The informers are speaking to the Cullers. Seems there’s about ten of them,” the Queen snarled, baring her teeth. “Gods damn those fucking traitors!”
“Any idea how long until they get to these tunnels?” Mai’s mouth was dry at the thought of facing ten Cullers all working together, even if she did have the advantage of facing them on home ground.
“Once we drop a few subtle hints as to where you are, it should only take them thirty minutes to get to you from where they are. And it appears that the workers may well be accompanying them.”
“Dammit!” Fat John roared, lashing out with a boot at a piece of debris nearby, completely pulverizing it. “I’ll kill every fucking one of them myself!”
“John,” Mai said, “please. I don’t want you putting yourself at risk again. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
“You won’t lose me. They’re amateurs. No clue about how to fight in the sewers. Still adjusting to their position here. Still getting used to tasting shit in their noses, like that’s ever something you can get used to.”
“Then it’s decided,” the Queen said before Mai could object again. “Fat John will kill the traitors whilst you deal with the Cullers. And to even things out slightly, we’ll flood the tunnels with methane. That will mean no explosives. No firearms. And in this situation, that will stack the odds in your favour.”
Shoulders slumped in defeat, Mai returned the hug John gave her.
“Enough of that,” the Queen said. “We’ve got work to do.”
#
“Traps are all in place,” said Mai. “As agreed, all trip wires are organic, just in case the Cullers have any tools which will allow them to spot them.”
She hadn’t even realised that was an option until Fat John had pointed it out. It was a hard-earned lesson from an encounter with urbexers. And if urbexers knew about it, odds were at least one Culler would. And, as he’d pointed out, there was no sense in taking the risk.
So she’d done a search as the others worked on creating the As with most things, it was buried in a sub-menu of a sub-menu in a sub-category. She was now utterly certain that it was deliberate.
Cullers were supposed to die. Having them live wasn’t what the powers-that-be consider to be good entertainment. And people facing imminent death, surrounded by billions of civilians who are actively looking for them to die before their Culler of choice, don’t have the right mindset to trawl through all of the options in order to understand the meta.
And even if I know that’s how things are, I’m never in a position to do anything more than skim the options. And I can’t just wander around asking people if they know anything.
If she was honest, she was both impressed and disappointed at the traps available. Whilst they were horrifically inventive, they were limited in their effect. Afterall, you could only spear so many people at any given time. Mines could blow multiple opponents to pieces. But these traps would be lucky if they caught more than one person at a time. Which is why it had been so costly in terms of BIO-MASS. She’d had to create many more traps than she would have normally, building in redundancies so that even if traps were somehow avoided, there was always another.
It had even proven to be fun. Chaining mines together was simple. But working with the organic traps had appealed to a love of puzzles she hadn’t realised she had. They had to be crafted. Routes taken by opponents had to be planned out. Traps laid so that they forced opponents into the direction that she wanted them to take. Driving them to their deaths.
Shit, maybe fun isn’t the right word, she thought ruefully. Developmental challenge. That’s it.
She’d heard that term from one of the other companies’ managers. A dull, bland woman who seemed as grey as the clothes she always wore. Mai had thought it was as if she had somehow avoided the creation of colour. At the time they’d been trying to clear a fat berg in a series of tunnels with three ninety-degree turns.
Still, I’d prefer some nice big booms, but acknowledged that with the numbers of enemy they faced, there was the risk that the amount of explosives required to ensure they were all killed, would bring the tunnel down upon everyone’s head.
“If any of the traitors make it through them, I’ll make sure they wish they’d died,” growled Fat John, curling his hands in front of himself.
Mai nodded, the plan hadn’t changed since they’d agreed to it, nor had it changed since the last time John had mentioned it. She knew it was just nerves, but he was starting to get on her nerves. Every time she thought she was focused on the task ahead and accepted what was to come, he would stroll up and give her another burst of adrenaline.
As she looked at him, the way he positively bounced on the spot, licked his lips, kept smiling at the thought of the coming ambush, she realised he was excited. A complete contrast to the man she had once known. And a clear sign as to how things had changed since she left.
Or maybe they’ve changed since I’ve returned?
“You better make sure you hang back until I’ve told them about the methane,” she said, taking hold of his chin and forcing him to meet her eyes. “If you try to kill the traitors too soon, you’ll kill us both. Stay back.”
He tried to move his head back, but she tightened her grip.
“I’m fucking serious. Stay. Back. Clear?”
A jerky nod and slight widening of his eyes told her he’d understood. And what might happen to him if he didn’t do as she’d said.
Checking her retinal monitor, she watched as her fellow sewer workers marked the enemy’s progress on her map. There were little more than one hundred paces away from the entrance to her tunnel.
“Five minutes, and they’ll be here.”
*
One of the Cullers had crafted a hovering glo-lamp. Mai thought it was not only a pretentious waste of BIO-MASS, but also a great way to mark your position for an enemy. If the tunnel hadn’t been flooded with methane, she could have picked off at least three just using the light.
“They’re all in,” commed Fat John, sub-vocalising over the channel so that there was no chance his voice would carry down the tunnel and warn their opponents. “They’ll hit the first trap in three, two, one.”
CRITICAL HIT! 65% DAMAGE
BLEED @10% PER SECOND
PANIC
A scream of the utmost agony reverberated down the tunnel.
“That was the buried spear,” Fat John whispered. “You got them right up the ..”
HIT! 30% DAMAGE
BLEED @5% DAMAGE
PANIC
Another scream drowned out what Fat John had been about to say.
“Spring trap,” Mai muttered, matching the map in her head to the position of the second, now screaming, victim. It was a simple trap. A powerfully flexed stave ending in a saw-toothed blade set to ninety degrees parallel to the stave.
It was powerful enough to punch clean through a human body, with the double-edged teeth doing damage both as it entered, and was pulled free. If they decided to do that.
“Wasn’t a Culler,” Fat John snarled, she could practically hear him baring his teeth. “One of the traitors. Not sure about the first though.”
Mai watched as the glo-lamps bobbed around, the enemies clearly reacting to the two traps. There was a pause, then the lights moved around a bit before continuing on their approach. This time, they were far more careful than before.
Raised voices drifted down the tunnel. It seemed as though those in the front were protesting. They were scared. Angry. Pleading.
They’re being herded. They’ve pushed the traitor workers to the front.
“Never told you this before, not something you needed to know when you were working here,” Fat John said, “but you could have been one of the best workers there is. I reckon you’d have got yourself free in under ten years. Maybe quicker with all the mogwai you and Andries were killing.”
Mai’s eyes misted at that. His respect meant more than she had thought it would, but also the thought that she’d have been able to get out of the tunnels and back to Li in a much shorter – albeit still long – time period, without having to enter the Culling, sent a wave of emotions through.
“You’re different,” he continued as they watched their hunters continue to approach. “Everyone who meets you knows that. We’re drawn to you like moths to a lamp.”
And why is that? She hated hearing that she was so different. Hated hearing that others felt drawn to her in such a way that it was beyond their control. I just want to get back home. Why’s it so hard?
As she watched the hunters approach the third trap, a series of them this time, she used her memory of the last time she and Li had gone for a picnic to give her motivation. But she struggled to picture it. Her sister’s face was starting to fade just like those of her parents.
She remembered the smile that came through clearly, but her past life seemed as though it had happened to someone else. Each memory she tried to pull from the back of her mind proved to be as slippery as if it was covered in oil.
But still, those memories she was able to pull out gave her motivation. Reminded her that there was another life she had once lived, and would live yet again, and which didn’t involve having to make life or death situations on a daily basis.
And the only monsters I’ll ever come across are like that old prick, Wong.
For some reason, his face was as clear as day. Which was typical of her life. The things she didn’t want to remember were the clearest, whilst those which she held most dear were fading.
Rubbing at her eyes, she tried to scrub his leering, monkey-like face from her mind before returning her attention back to the approaching Cullers. Briefly, she wondered what had happened to him. What had happened to Mrs. Wong.
“Spear, punji stakes, dead drop, spear, this is going to be amazing. Reckon they’ll hit ” whispered Fat John. She could hear the smile and resolved to have a word with him about it once they were back at Excretiaville. That they wouldn’t have never even crossed her mind.
Why would it? She’d had the best sewer experts modify this tunnel. It had been filled with the best traps she could find. And she had one of her best friends ever ready to take on the civilians.
Granted, those civilians wouldn’t be able to physically attack her, but they could impede her, making her vulnerable to attacks from the other Cullers. One way would be to block her attacks. With either their bodies – unlikely – or with their weapons. Which would make her vulnerable to the Culler’s attacks, but would be perfectly legal according to a couple of lawyers who had been indentured. And she wasn’t going to argue with experts.
These rules are utterly fucked up. It angered her. And she knew that if she gave it any more thought. If she brooded on it, that her rage would tip her over the edge. You could literally go mad thinking about it. And is that the point? Force Cullers to just go with their training, no idea how to get around the rules, which you can, no time to check through all of the menus and submenus to find the weapons which will help because if you spend too long in one spot, either a civilian or drone will ensure you have to move on.
And if their civilians could block her attacks, so too could her fellow sewer workers. It wasn’t ever going to happen though. She would never think of asking her friends to put themselves in a position where they would be utterly unable to defend themselves in a way which allowed them to survive.
The Cullers hunting her clearly had no issues with that, however. Looking at them, she was unable to SASS any of them. All of them appeared to be prisoners, gangers and ex-military. It vexed her to be unable to do so. It was such a part of normal life, that to not be able to do so completely threw her out of kilter.
Speaking to Fat John and the others about it, they were more used to it down here where they regularly came across such people. But in the Upper City she’d never come across such people.
It’s as if they’re attracted to places like the Deadzone, events like the Culling. Anywhere there’s danger or the chance of getting rich quicker than working like normal people. It was a thought she’d had many times, but she just couldn’t push it away. No matter how hard she tried, it tickled at the back of her subconscious, resurfacing at the worst times.
CRITICAL HIT! 65%
BLEED @15% PER SECOND
PANIC!
A scream broke her reverie, one of the newly indentured workers had triggered the spear. Set deep into the ground, a powerful spring at its base, the spear had punched up and clean through her victim. How it hadn’t killed her only the Gods knew. Not that she was going to survive much longer.
‘One down …’ crowed Fat John.
Reacting to the sudden and gruesome impaling of their colleague, the workers flinched, bunching up, bumping into each other. With a yell of surprise which quickly turned into a short-lived scream, two of them stepped right when they should have stepped left.
The ground gave way, swallowing them up in the blink of an eye as if a creature had risen up from the depths.
INSTAKILL!
INSTAKILL!
A four-pace deep drop onto a score of metal stakes ensured a quick death for the two men. Neither of them counted for anything with regard to the Culling or development of skills which mattered. It was senseless.
INTIMIDATED glyphs popped up over the rest of their party, their alarmed shouts music to her ears.
The more rattled they are, the more likely they’ll make a mistake. Or bug out.
It was as if they’d read her mind. There was some shouting, an argument by the sound of it, and two of the workers starting running back the way they’d come. They didn’t get far, having to push through the Cullers.
More shouting, roars of anger, then the roars of anger turned into screams of pain. And another two deaths were added to her tally. Not that they counted towards the Culling. As soon as she thought about it, she hated herself. Even if the workers were trying to get her killed.
INSTAKILL!
INSTAKILL!
PANIC! Glyphs appeared over the heads of the other traitors, and this time they started moving towards her as the PANIC! negative effects drove them away from the source of their PANIC! – the Cullers – and deeper into the tunnels.
‘Five down, five to go,’ said Fat John. ‘Think all of the traitors will be killed by the traps?’
She didn’t bother replying, her own thoughts were distraction enough. Chit-chatting with John as people died, no matter who they were, was both unnecessary and foolish.
Watching the hunters approach, she tightened her grip on the release rope for the deadfall. It was a horrendous trap, and she was still slightly appalled she’d crafted it.
A large log, wrapped in Blood Buttercups and festooned with barbed spikes ranging from a finger to over an arm’s length hung nearly five paces at the top of the sewer’s roof. If the spikes didn’t work, the Blood Buttercups would sprout rapidly. Roots probing for the slightest entry point – eyes, ears, mouth, genitals – would kill her victims in a most gruesome manner as they leached their blood, giving the flower that would shortly appear the name, and their colour.
What followed next appalled her more than she thought possible. A traitor, smaller than the others, so possibly a woman triggered the log. There was a slight whoosh as it swung towards her.
She barely had a moment of realisation, less than that to actually try to do anything about saving herself. But all she could do was stand stock still as the log swung towards her. Screaming, the impaled woman was sent flying through the air as the log continued its path before it slammed into the ceiling, cutting her scream off with deadly finality.
INSTAKILL!
One of the traitors had managed to duck under the log, he was just getting to his feet when it came crashing back, spikes punching through his back, organs cut out of his ribcage with astonishing ease.
INSTAKILL!
Mai burped, bile forcing its way into her mouth at the morbid sight. It was one of the most gruesome things she’d seen. Sometimes if felt as though she’d seen the worst death had to offer, and then the ante was upped.
“Emperor’s third nipple, Mai, I almost feel for the damned traitors!” Fat John gasped over their comms channel. His voice, shaking more than she had ever heard, let her know just how badly affected he was by this.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
There was a pause as the Cullers and traitors waited for the log to stop swinging. At a shouted order, a traitor moved gingerly forward. Edging past the log, the traitor placed their hand upon the log.
Oh Gods! Mai had never seen a Blood Buttercup in action. The only flowers she’d ever come across had been both pretty and completely immobile. Not so the Buttercup. Barely brushing the Buttercup caused it to literally leap into action.
“Help!” was the only word the traitor was able to utter before a Buttercup plunged into his mouth, disappearing in the blink of an eye. Those eyes were just as quickly taken as two other flowers punched through the sockets.
Others punched up the traitor’s nose and various other orifices.
INSTALKILL!
Mai vomited. It was sudden and completely took her by surprise. By the sounds coming over the comms channel, Fat John was similarly affected. Unable to stand, Mai dropped to her knees, covering her face as she tried to scrub the picture of what had happened.
As a result, she didn’t see the next three deaths. Spears; set in the floor, ceiling and walls. Each one powered by a tightly sprung coil. Each three paces in length, more than enough to spit someone from top to tail.
Which, judging by the screams and three INSTAKILL! Messages was exactly what happened. She didn’t care. Mai just wanted things to end, to be back in her apartment with her sister working in some crappy, mundane job.
“Mai …” Fat John’s voice broke through her nightmare, “they’re past the spears. Get up, be ready.”
It was as if all strength had been robbed from her limbs. Why these deaths were affecting her so much compared to others she’d inflicted, she wasn’t sure. Trying to stand, she was unable to find the strength and sank back down.
“Mai! Get the hells up!” Hissed Fat John over the channel. “Get up!”
This time she managed it, standing on still-shaky legs, hardly daring to breathe, Mai watched as the surviving Cullers made their way past the spear traps. As far as she could see, there were only three left. Two hung back slightly, whilst the larger of them, a man, led the way, if cautiously.
“John, remember the plan, you can’t get involved with the Cullers. Just hold back, no matter what,” she whispered, looking over to the shadows where John was concealed.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s the part of the plan I fucking hate,” he whispered. “Don’t worry, I’m not feeling suicidal.”
Mai turned her attention back to the group of Cullers. By what she could see of him, he was large. Whether that was due to muscle or fat she couldn’t tell. Either way, she didn’t intend on getting into a wrestling match with him.
Voices, what she would have called ‘raised whispers’, echoed down the tunnel. The leader’s voice was firm, monosyllabic, barking unheard orders. But the others, they were rushed, sibilant, slipping into raised voices as their fear overcame caution.
She couldn’t blame them, the traps had caused the horrific deaths of their comrades and their traitor allies. On top of that they were in the sewers, dealing with everything that came with that, as well as being in one of the most confined areas they’d most likely experienced in their lives.
Most people were used to either their apartments, or the wide plazas of their levels. Down here, beneath miles of levels they’d feel the city pressing in on them. Feel the weight of the hundreds of millions of people on their shoulders. They might have pushed it to the back of their minds, but it was still there, adding to their fear.
The leader turned, spat out some whispers, and got a sulky-sounding response. Turning back, he continued to advance towards her position. As he grew closer, Mai saw that he had some sort of automatic shotgun as one of his weapons. Thus far, they didn’t even know she was there, but if they even got an inkling and opened fire, everyone in the tunnel would be toast.
“I highly suggest you don’t fire that weapon,” Mai said, boosting the volume of her voice so that it filled the tunnel, making two of the Cullers jump in fear.
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I do that?” the leader of the group snarled. By his strong accent, he was a one-miler and she struggled to understand his staccato sing-song voice. To call him ugly was paying him a compliment. A scar parted the whole left-hand side of his face, exposing teeth, gums and his lower jawbone. For once, Mai ignored ingrained etiquette and read his name glyph. Grimtooth.
What sort of fucking name is that? It was certainly apt. He’d probably paid to have his name changed after he got the injury. Down in the One-Mile levels, scars like that which were earned in battle were worn with pride. The more scars a person had, the tougher they were.
A series of tattoos across his forehead gave some inclination as the number of people he claimed to have fought and killed. To be fair to him, no-one who lied about their kills lived very long as killing someone who had that many kills would elevate a One-Miler far above their peers. Kills were power. No matter what the laws of the City were supposed to be.
“Because the tunnel’s filled with methane. One spark and boom!” She clashed her sword against her shield, making the more nervous Cullers jump.
“You’re bluffing,” he narrowed his eyes at her, only serving to make himself uglier. It was as if he’d fallen out of the ugly tree, hit every ugly branch on the way down and landed face first in the ugly ground. And then been hit by a building.
I’m sure his mum loves him, she thought. But she had her doubts. Some people were beautiful souls no matter what they looked like, but she had the strong feeling that his soul was as ugly as his face. Maybe it was as a result of where he came from, but she wasn’t feeling charitable so decided that he was just the epitome of ugly. Ugly soul, ugly visage.
“Fine, if I’m bluffing fire. Blast away! But you do realise I could have trapped this entire tunnel with explosives. Shot you down as you tried to weave between all the obstacles? Wonder why I didn’t?”
The two other Cullers shifted their feet. It was clear they were terrified of Grimtooth. Sparing a glance for them, she didn’t see one she viewed personally as a threat. And that took her back.
I’ve changed. And whilst she knew some pride at that thought, she was also scared. Scared that she was the sort of person who could look at another human being and categorise them as either a threat, or something she could easily deal with. Easily killed. What will Li think of me?
She threw a prayer to Lady Buddha that her sister wasn’t watching. That she was able to fend for herself or was getting the help she needed. Due to the events of the last few days, Mai had barely spared a thought for her sister. Indeed, she was angry that her brain had taken this moment to distract her.
Nothing was said for a few seconds, for which Mai was grateful as it meant she could re-centre her mind. Instead they stood and stared at each other. If this had been a holomyth it would have been the perfect start to the end scene.
Anyone watching this would be lapping it up, she thought with disgust.
“Fine,” Grimtooth snarled, absorbing his shotgun and replacing it with an evil-looking sword. Armour formed around him. It was exactly the sort of armour she would expect him to create. All jagged edges, needless ridges and spikes that might look cool and INTIMIDATING – she cursed silently as a notification of its effect popped up on her retinal monitor – but the whole purpose of armour was to deflect blows, soften the impact. No matter where she hit, he was going to feel far more of the blow than he should because the spikes and jagged edges would direct her blows into rather than away from the armour.
His helmet was especially impressive, forming into a shape resembling a snarling wolf’s head, even down to curled lip and bared fangs, a pair of ears jutting out from the top. Again, they’d direct her blows into the armour. As he rolled his shoulders and rotated his neck, the visor shifted slightly as if it was now part of his skin.
That must have cost a stack of BIO-MASS, and Buddha knows how he got that template, probably got a good SOAK value, she thought as she sized him up.
The other two did the same, one choosing to go with a spear and shield combination with a mix of ancient-looking Water Margin banded and chain armour, the other preferring a wakizashi and katana, which made sense since they also created an ancient samray armour like the evil warriors of old wore in the holomyths.
That’s the more dangerous one out of the two, she thought as she sized them up. Whilst the spear had a good range and should have been more of a threat, the Culler wielding it looked decidedly uncomfortable. They didn’t have an INTIMIDATION or PANIC glyph above their head, but she could tell they were close to it.
“I feel a tad underdressed looking at the three of you,” she indicated their weapons and armour. “Maybe I should join you?”
“Take your time little girl,” snarled Grimtooth. “It’s all about the ratings for me, and if you look like you actually put up a good fight it’ll get me more upvotes, more people on my side.”
Those words gave her pause. Should she have been concentrating on her public face? Winning the support of viewers in the hope that they might help her? Doubt filled her for a moment before she quashed it. What was done, was done. And those viewers he was talking about were also watching her.
Killing him might get me his followers, or at least some additional ones, she thought. Whether that would actually help she didn’t know. And the thought of playing the game still rankled.
Holding up a finger in the universal sign for ‘wait’, she blinked open her ARMOUR menu. Entering Archaic into the search box, she added the filter of Holomyth, before scrolling through the options.
Can’t beat them, might as well join them, she thought as suit after suit of ancient armour flickered past on her retinal monitor. She hadn’t expected such a wealth of variety, and found the references to time periods especially bewildering. She’d only know about the samray armour because of holomyths, not because she was aware of human history from the dim and distant past of millennia ago.
And then suddenly there it was. A beautiful suit of highly polished armour edged with brass which gleamed so much it looked like gold. It literally sprang out of the list.
IMPERIAL ONE THOUSAND was its name as it scrolled past, Mai too slow to stop and having to carefully tab back up the menu until it was front and centre. Opening it up, she quickly scanned the description.
The One Thousand were an elite unit of soldiers dedicated to preserving the life of the Empress, may she remain eternal, and her children. Chosen at birth, these men and women were genetically altered to be the ultimate bodyguard and soldier.
During the Battle of All Endings, in the thirtieth millennia of mankind, when the mythological alien threat of the Khanite Empire threatened to end our own Glorious Empire, The One Thousand strove to keep the alien horde from the walls of the Palace.
Despite causing untold thousands of casualties amongst the foul enemy, The One Thousand were unable to prevent a regiment from breaching the walls of the palace and advancing a full thirty paces.
The brave men and women of The One Thousand took this perceived slight badly, with General Wu of the Tang Clan, Glorious Commander of The One Thousand, falling upon his sword once it was reported that the aliens had been defeated.
The survivors of The One Thousand then swore to fight to the last as they hunted down the foul creatures who had dared sully the Most Serene Stones of the Palace, pursuing them and those traitorous humans who had aided them across known space.
Indeed it is rumoured that The One Thousand, or their descendants, continue this pursuit even now, their numbers swelled to full strength, and their tenacity preventing the aliens from ever mustering their forces again.
Whilst this armour appears to be archaic, and made of steel and copper, it is in fact a fusion of nanites and titanium. With a SOAK of three hundred per cent, it also enhances the speed of its wearer by ten per cent, and is resistant to INTIMIDATION, PANIC and STUNNED. It also slows BLEED by thirty per cent.
COST: One hundred per cent BIO-MASS.
Fortunately, she still had a good reserve of BIO-MASS available, as well as a spare bottle of BOOST. Looking over at where Fat John was hiding, she gave a slight shrug as she formed the armour.
Its effect was instant. A sense of calm and purpose washed over her, removing any traces of doubt she held about the fight to come. Reaching for her bottle of BIO-MASS BOOST she drank until her BIO-MASS was back at one hundred per cent, then formed weapons of her own.
Taking into account Grimtooth’s armour, she chose a warhammer with a hammer head topped by a curved spike, and twin spikes at either end. Seeing how impatient he was, she read the description.
A war hammer, is a long-handled weapon used by the loyal foot soldiers of our Glorious Emperor, especially in the defence of fortified walls where those with longer poles afforded the defenders a superior reach and enhanced the force, and therefore damage, that could be brought to bear on the target, and in action against heavily armoured soldiers and even some of the lighter mecha. For the latter, a weapon would need to be enhanced, such as Picktooth, in order to have a chance at damaging one.
War hammers, especially when mounted on a pole, cause STUN and CRUSH damage even if they fail to penetrate an opponent’s armour. In particular, they transmit their impact through even the thickest helmets and cause concussions, resulting in the DISORIENTED status effect. Later war hammers often had a spike on one side of the head, making them more versatile weapons. A blade or spike tends to be used not against helmets but against other parts of the body where the armour is thinner, and penetration is easier. The spike end can also be used for grappling the target's armour, hooking an opponent’s limbs, weapon, or shield, or can be turned in the direction of the blow to pierce even the heaviest armour. Against mecha opponents, the weapon can also be directed at the legs of the lighter suits of mecha, toppling the armoured foe to the ground where they can be more easily attacked.
Based upon an ancient weapon which was mostly made of metal alone, Picktooth, is a nanite weapon utilising a small charge which causes the head and beak to vibrate at a molecular level, enhancing its ability to penetrate even the most advanced armour. This gives the user a +10% CRITICAL HIT BONUS.
Crush damage wasn’t something she’d really come across before, preferring to use bladed or projectile weapons, so opened up the description to both learn more, piss Grimtooth off even further.
CRUSH
Crush damage is caused by blunt-force weapons with potential knock-on effects of STUN, DISORIENT, WINDED, UNCONSCIOUSNESS, KNOCKED BACK and a 25% chance to CRIPPLE an opponent after a CRITICAL HIT.
By Krout! Definitely worth the cost!
At fifteen per cent BIO-MASS, it wasn’t cheap but having seen the armour her opponents wore, and the status effects it could cause with each successful hit, she didn’t begrudge the cost. Grimtooth huffed and puffed as she read through the description, forcing her to hide a smile lest he attack her when she wasn’t ready.
Eschewing a shield, she opened up the sword menu. Heart pounding, she scrolled until she saw the weapon she needed. Not the weapon she wanted, however. A memory of Andries’ shocked face sprang forth unbidden as she opened up the item and paid the 600UC it cost for the template. Having killed so many mogwai which seemed to have been a lifetime away, but was really only a few hours in the scale of things, 600UC was easily affordable.
GHOUL BLADE UNLOCKED
Swallowing hard, pushing away the guilt of what Andries might have thought of her using such a weapon, she decided to read through that description as well, ignoring the sounds of impatience Grimtooth was making, and the effect that the wait was having on the other two Cullers.
As she’d thought, they were struggling with the tight confines of the sewer with each passing second. That they had an imminent fight to the death would also be playing on their minds, making them either over cautious, or over eager when the time came.
600 UC if not crafted from a template. 15% BIOMASS - Instantly causes SHOCKED. Upon striking it causes SERIOUS WOUNDS, PANIC, POISON and BLEEDING at a minimum of 10% per second. A truly terrible weapon made to not only kill your opponent but make them quake in fear as soon as you face them, the GHOUL BLADE is forged from the thigh bone of a powerful warrior, with GHOUL teeth carefully affixed to the edges.
And it was the SHOCK status effect she was gambling on. She didn’t form the sword immediately. Instead, looking over at Grimtooth she held up her finger once more, using the gesture to gauge the distance between her and each of her opponents, forming a plan of attack as she did so.
“I’m bored, shall we just get on with it?” she plastered a smile across her face, ignoring the flood of adrenalin that the words brought. And then GHOUL BLADE sprang into life.
Its effect was instant, SHOCKED glyphs appearing over the heads of Grimtooth and his accomplices. All three took a slight step back before freezing.
Mai activated TUNNEL FIGHTER, SEWER COMBAT, and UNARMED COMBAT. SWORD FIGHTING was a passive skill and she only had the base five per cent Rank 1 conferred. However, she also had an additional INTIMIDATION and BLEED. She didn’t have a USE WARHAMMER, it wasn’t a skill she’d been taught during training for the Culling, so she wasn’t going to get any bonuses.
She had less than a minute before her skills entered cooldown. And a minute was all she needed to walk away from this alive.
The main SHOCK negative status effect gave her roughly three seconds to get her hits in. All of her opponents would be unable to react to her attacks, being rooted to the spot. Having seen Grimtooth’s armour, she knew that wasn’t nearly enough time to finish him off before the other two Cullers joined in. And with them aiding him, she knew she didn’t stand a chance in the Sixty Hells of coming out of this alive.
Cutting past Grimtooth, who was only able to side-eye her as she moved past, she launched an attack at the spear-wielding Culler. Lead hand was GHOUL BLADE, SWORD FIGHTING target boxes marking the weak points of the spearman’s armour.
It was as if GHOUL BLADE actually thirsted for their blood. And with SHOCK’s additional twenty-five per cent chance of a critical hit, she had a thirty per cent chance.
HIT! 1%
BLEED@10% PER SECOND
SERIOUS WOUNDS
PANIC
POISON@2% PER SECOND
And that was another reason she’d chosen GHOUL BLADE. Even though her target’s SOAK had absorbed most of her hit’s damage, most wasn’t enough. GHOUL BLADE caused a minimum of ten per cent bleed with a successful hit. And that meant even a prick of the finger could be deadly.
Without using HEAL, or TREAT SERIOUS WOUNDS, a prick on the finger could see someone dead in just six seconds. Even less if they were also poisoned badly enough.
Mai didn’t leave anything to chance however, her next attack being a back-handed attack with PICKTOOTH. As she was unfamiliar with the correct way to handle the weapon, she winced as the blunt head crashed into the spear-wielder’s shoulder, a sharp pain radiating up her arm from her wrist.
HIT! 5%
DISORIENTATED!
A glyph of circling birds appeared over their heads.
Mai had to accept the somewhat disappointing result, she didn’t have time for another attack, moving on to the samray before they were able to start moving.
Their armour was much more intricate that the spear wielder’s somewhat basic-looking suit. For one, it was completely enclosed, which would make it far harder for GHOUL BLADE to work its demonic magic.
She struck with PICKTOOTH instead, aiming for the samray’s knee with a back-hand attack. This time she got the angle correct and the head crashed into the samray’s armour with a loud crack.
HIT! 5%
Swinging again, she struck at the other side of the knee, the inside this time.
CRITICAL HIT! 10%
CRUSH!
CRIPPLED! -50% MOBILITY TO AFFECTED LEG
And then the SHOCK wore off. Her opponent somehow managed to avoid her next blow, rolling across the floor, screaming in fear or agony. Mai didn’t care, just kept slashing as they kept rolling.
Glancing over, she caught sight of the battle between Fat John and Grimtooth.
As Fat John spun his cutter in a desperate attempt to defend himself against Grimtooth’s attack, Mai was helpless. Facing her own opponent, there was nothing she could do. And there was nothing Fat John could do to save himself.
If he attacked Grimtooth, he’d die. If he didn’t and tried to rely solely on being able to defend himself against the troll-like Culler’s attacks, he would die. No defence was absolute. The only chance, and it was a slim on at that, was if he tried to make a run for it. But that would mean exposing his back.
And in that split-second, Fat John came to the same realisation. Parrying a heavy blow, he knocked Grimtooth’s sword down and to the side. If he hadn’t had to hold back, it would have ended in the Culler’s death.
Instead, Fat John used the opening to make his escape, spinning on the spot he flashed a grin at Mai. And then grimaced in pain.
“NO!” Mai screamed as the jagged blade burst through the front of Fat John’s chest. Eyes meeting, Mai could only scream wordlessly as Fat John coughed, blood filling the air. Another cough and deep red blood welled out between his lips to spill down his chin.
Lifting a hand, he reached out for her, mouth working, no sound coming from it. And in another second, he was falling to the ground as the sword was ripped back out of his chest, his health bar filling completely with black before his corpse reached the ground.
“Wossamatter,” Grimtooth taunted her, licking his blade. “Did I kill someone that mattered to you?”
Mai felt something break inside her. Although spiritual, she felt it physically. As if a piece of her had just stopped working. Grief was instantaneously replaced with a cold rage that consumed her very being. At that moment she couldn’t even tell if she even retained her human form. It felt as though she had transcended into something so utterly alien there were no words to describe it.
Grimtooth stopped being a person, stopped even being a ‘thing’ in her mind. It was as if he was nothing more than a distraction in her mind. Looking back, she would never be able to ascribe what she truly felt. She was utterly incapable of being able to describe just how metaphysical that moment was. All that she knew, and all that she ever remembered knowing, was that she wanted Grimtooth to cease to exist.
NEW TITLE - VENGEANCE PERSONIFIED UNLOCKED
YOU ARE TRULY TO BE FEARED BY ALL WHO RAISE YOUR IRE, WHO KILL THOSE YOU LOVE, OR WHO WRONG YOU IN SOME WAY.
His sneer left his face as quickly as it had appeared as he took in her changed attitude. She could smell his fear as he voided his bowels. Raising his sword, covered in Fat John’s blood and flesh, he held it before him as if to ward her away than to even defend himself, let alone attack her.
The INTIMIDATED glyph appeared over him. Stumbling, he barely managed to regain his balance, arms windmilling as he fought to remain upright. Legs shaking, he assumed some form of guard before dropping it back down, his arms too weak to hold it up.
“C .. come on then!” he stammered, voice higher than normal as fear constricted his vocal chords. “I’ll gut you like I gutted your friend!”
If he’d thought for even a split second that such a threat was going to deter her, he was wrong. Widening eyes told her he’d realised his mistake even before he finished speaking.
Mai absorbed her shield and sword, sending the nanites back out of her fingers as foot-long blades. Grimtooth screamed, finally holding the sword before him in some semblance of threat whilst desperately trying to back away from her.
She took her time. Advancing upon him, she carefully placed her feet so that she stepped onto the corpses of his former teammates. At no point did she break eye contact with him.
Every step she took he matched with a step backward. Whilst hers were assured, filled with poise and grace, his were skittish, uncertain, and filled with fear. Wavering for a brief few seconds, the INTIMIDATION glyph above him blinked out of existence, a PANIC glyph replacing it.
Shrieking, Grimtooth turned to run. And like any apex predator faced with an escaping prey, Mai leaped into action. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, she cleared the fifteen or so paces between them.
Armour, cloth and then flesh parted before her claws, great gashes exposing yellowed ribs and even part of his backbone. If a notification displayed on her retinal monitor, she neither knew nor cared. Such things were beyond her. Below her even. All that mattered was vengeance. Later, she would both marvel and shudder at the change which overtook her.
Screaming like an animal, his vocal chords audibly shredding as he gave voice to his pain and fear, Grimtooth clawed at the hideous wounds, sword falling as he reached behind himself.
Mai stood less than a hand’s width behind him, watching as he continued to scream and explore the terrible wounds. She slashed again, both hands rising and falling so rapidly that the blood on them hung in the air, and ten digits fell to the floor.
He tried to run then, turning his back, no defences up. Completely open. She couldn’t let him escape. Although she toyed with the idea of hunting him down she knew there was always a slight chance he might elude her. And she couldn’t have that. Couldn’t let the murderer of her friend escape for even a second. So she hamstrung him, giggling at the sight of him trying to walk before falling to the ground, thrusting out fingerless hands to break his fall. It was as if she was in a dream. Nightmarish certainly, but more that she was in his nightmare, playing a role of sorts. A role that was completely out of character. Past her would have been horrified at her actions. At her laughing in glee at his suffering. A surreal, out of body experience.
Mai advanced. Gently, she placed the tips of her blades at the top of his, thumbs close to where they attached to his spine. With a sigh she raked them towards herself, parting them as easily as though they were rice paper.
Grimtooth’s screaming stopped as his ribs sprang forward in the mythical ‘eagle’s wings’ method of execution. His bar filled with black. And then Mai’s wounds finally took their toll and she collapsed into a darkness of her own.