Ogre mutants were bad at bluffing. The brute sitting beside Andy grimaced at its cards like they were soured milk, then threw a handful of bones into the pile. “Fifteh boens.” Its accent was chunky, clogged by the tumorous bulges in its throat. Predictably, with a clatter, every mutant at the table chucked their betting-bones into the pot. If there was one thing mutants struggled to do, it was turn down a challenge.
They all turned to face Andy. Either by a feat of his sister’s creativity, or the mutant’s stupidity, the disguise was working. Green paint covered his arms and face and he wore a cartoonishly large witch's nose, tied behind his head with elastic string. Andy felt naked without his leather jacket, but took solace in the company of Julie, his .45 revolver, at his hip. She hummed in her holster, pining to be set free. “Hold on baby,” Andy whispered, stroking her handle. “Soon.”
“Wos dat?” The runty mutant dealing the cards leaned over the embossed metal table.
“Don’t rush me,” Andy growled, doing his best impression of a mutant. The voice modulator helped. It was one of the gizmos Clara had provided for the mission, worn like a necklace, hidden in plain sight. He glanced around the satellite complex’s control room, glaring into the eyes of each hulking monster at the table. Present were the patriarchs of three tribes: The Bossers, The Boasters and The Bosses. Mutant politics were rich and complex like that.
“Runty’s a thinka’,” the fattest mutant at the table heckled. Its humongous muscles were buried beneath rolls of fungus-grey fat. A sledgehammer rested upright beside its chair, only the legs of which escaped the folds of its gargantuan arse. Somewhere on its bestial face were the worn grooves of mankind, warped by radiation, remoulded into a horror of the apocalypses.
Resisting the urge to draw his revolver on the ugly creature, Andy inspected his cards: Queen-Ten suited. If he’d been playing with other mercenaries, it would have been a pretty good hand. But as per ogre mutant rules, his cards were considered weak and runty. The radioactive abominations favoured picture cards, and the King was mightiest of all. Maybe if he scratched off the Queen’s hairdo, he could convince the table that she was just a girly looking King, but it would take a lot of bluster and bravado to sell.
“Fold,” he grumbled, chucking his cards away. He needed a better hand before he assassinated his target.
“Tiny runt’s scared of fightin’.” Andy’s target–the behemoth mutant–sat opposite him puffing on five cigars tied together like the barrel of a minigun. Its eyes were dots inside its tremendous head, like two nails hammered into a swollen corpse, milky and bloodshot. It stared back, face twitching in an inaudible rage. On its head was an imposing helmet made from the skull of a stag, antlers jutting out the top, decorated with hanging bones, some of which bore the rotting remnants of human flesh. The dress piece signified him as the alpha–the mutant which kept the others in check.
Andy sighed. It wasn’t the right time yet. How was it Clara had put it during the mission briefing? He remembered back to their conversation in the jeep a few hours ago: “Our mission is to create instability. Just killing a few of them won’t work. We can’t have them blaming humanity for this, or else they might look outside their tribes and seek revenge. Make it look like a mutant did it–like it was a fair fight.”
Okay, so shooting the alpha mutant now would not be humiliating enough for his sister’s plan to work. The other mutants at the poker table would perceive Andy’s actions as cowardice. They might be dumb, but they had a rigid code of honour. Andy was required to undermine the alpha with a challenge first. The execution should be flashy: wait for a sure-kill hand, then pull the trigger.
Alert: Immediate danger detected. A robotic voice reached him from within the deep recesses of his mind, as though he was wearing an earpiece with the volume turned way down. Eliminate mutant. Priority targets established-
“Shh,” Andy said to the artificial intelligence in his head. For as long as he could remember, Andy had heard voices which others claimed weren’t there, but the Artificial Intelligence implant was by far the most vivid and persistent. It had first talked to him after he had injected himself with military-grade Augmentation Serum a couple years after the world had ended, mistaking it for a quick high. The effects had been immediate and permanent, invading his DNA, transforming him into a biological weapon.
Alert: Pollutants detected, the voice badgered him. Motor and cognitive abilities impaired. Avoid contaminated liquids.
It hadn’t shut up since.
“Chill out,” Andy said, hiding his voice in a sip of the mutant grog. The whispering voice inside his head grew unintelligible, subdued by the hum of booze to a distant sanctimonious breeze. He slouched in his chair as the room spun pleasantly, like a swing twisted around its chain. But no matter how drunk he got, his mind was drawn to certain tactical assets and a crucial part of him remained alert. It was one of his Augmentation’s enhancement modules. Some Augmented people had developed gigantic muscles and herculean strength, others could control the elements, shooting fireballs and flying through the sky, or at least that’s how the stories went. Andy’s Gunslinger Augmentation gave him Combat Conceptualisation: an artificial intelligence implant which ran tactical programming, mapping the room as though it were a video game… Badass.
Andy closed his eyes, but he could still envision the dusty computers lining the walls, on top of which perched an audience of runt mutants-a smaller gobliny breed of the ogres–yipping and heckling. A handful of them were armed with hunting rifles as tall as themselves, just as likely to use them as clubs than to know how to shoot them. A smoky window stood before a fire escape exited onto a balcony. Outside, Clara was waiting in her overwatch position on the roof of a small office block at the edge of the mountaintop compound. Their getaway vehicle was parked in the forest just beyond.
Andy was dealt in, but the cards came up Ace-Two. Again, playable against mercs, but awful against muties. “Fold.”
“Better t’ play with propa’ muties.” The alpha’s voice was thick and gravelly like the bellows of a distant thunderstorm. “Dis ‘ere runt boy’s waitin’ for em teeth pickin’ bones t’ stew.”
The whole table exploded in such an uproar of laughter that Andy could feel the tremors in his gut. He didn’t really get the joke, but he didn’t appreciate being the butt of it. Grinding his teeth, Andy ignored his simmering anger, taking a swig of mutant grog to quench the fire. The fattest mutant at the table snorted, struggling to breathe as it stared at Andy through pinprick eyes. The beast’s torso was wrapped in chain-link fence, scrap metal plates were strapped to its arms and a metal bucket perched on its fat head. Behind it, runty members of its clan jeered at Andy, dressed in the same scrapheap medieval knight outfit as their patriarch.
“Stupid runt must miss the fight again, ey boys?” Fatty yabbered. A dizzying wave of combat enhancing hormones washed over Andy, dredging a strong impulse to kill the creature. Clenching his fists, Andy weathered the humiliation like a storm.
The game’s hand was played and the mutants, not knowing the rules to poker, all argued that their cards were the strongest. While they bickered, Andy searched his pockets for his hip flask, eager to sweeten the mutant grog with whiskey. Then a moment of horror struck him. He hadn’t transferred his flask from his leather jacket when he’d dressed up as a mutant. What a blunder! All he could find was a crumpled piece of paper in the back pocket of his jeans. He hadn’t even known it was there. Curious, he held the paper up to the flickering torchlight and read.
Augmentation Archetype: Gunslinger
The Gunslinger is able to develop abilities relating to firearm proficiency, combat agility, tactical perception and reasoning. Versatile and precise, the Gunslinger is the archetypal Augmented warrior.
Currently, Gunslinger ‘Andy’ possesses two Delineations, which specialise DNA modification for specific abilities. Current development trajectory assessed as: stunted / underperforming (see footnotes).
Delineation 1: Hitman
Delineation 2: Marksman
Beneath each Delineation was a transcript of Andy’s Augmentation abilities. Some of the powers he could activate consciously in combat, while others ran in the background of his mind, manipulating his thoughts, tweaking his DNA. He skipped over the text–he knew it by heart, but Clara thought it necessary for him to revise. His sister must have printed the paper last time he calibrated at an Augmentation Master Console. How long ago was that now? Four, maybe five months ago? The process was arduous, but Clara argued it was a necessity.
The footnotes were circled in pink highlighter. A note in Clara’s handwriting read: ‘See, your system agrees with me. Train harder!!! I’m rooting for you :)’
The highlighted text read:
Potential power spike detected as significant. Background upgrade programs activated and running for T-minus nine-thousand nine-hundred and ninety-two hours. Accumulative upgrades available. Current progression hindered by user inactivity. Assessing experimental implementation methods.
The phrase about a ‘potential power spike’ was one of his AI’s favourite to pester him with. But Andy saw through the coercion for what it was: just a way to sucker him in. His AI was desperate to go ham on his DNA, but it needed his cooperation. The Augmentation Serum was developed during the cataclysm when every apocalypse imaginable happened all at once, and humanity was on the brink of annihilation. Anyone who injected it would become a super soldier–a hero who could reverse the extinction tide–a bastion of mankind. But Andy was no hero, no pawn. He was a mercenary. He hadn’t been much invested in the human race before the cataclysm, so why should he care now, just because all of a sudden he had special powers? They weren’t even that special.
Potential power spike detected as significant, his AI chimed, like a crackly radio signal inside his mind.
“I can read.” Andy shoved the note back in his pocket and rested his hand on his revolver for comfort. Ever since he and Julie had found one another, things had been on the up. She had spent years alone and inactive, strapped to the hip of a dead man before Andy had come along and rescued her. She had spoken to him then–he was sure of it–beckoned him over, begged to be set free. That was a month ago now. Since then, they hadn’t been separated once. Wielding Julie was as natural to Andy as breathing. He hadn’t encountered much in the wasteland that couldn’t be put down with a .45 to the face, and if he ever did, he’d figure something out.
A snapping sound jolted him out of his daydreams. Raucous laughter filled the room as the fattest mutant’s chair collapsed beneath it, and the behemoth tumbled to the concrete floor. Runt mutants dove over the table, snatching up his pile of betting-bones like seagulls picking at the scraps. Fatty whimpered and rolled on the ground, snuffling like a pig with the exertion, then gave up.
Attention: Priority target established, his AI pestered him. Evasive Fire recommended.
“Shut up,” Andy growled, his voice distorted by the modulator. Here he was, trying to be sneaky and engage in a bit of light hearted subterfuge, and all his implant could do was panic about imminent danger and obsess over priority targets. He’d been on the road with Clara for days, assessing the lay of the land, kidnapping mutants and interrogating them, stealing an invite to tonight’s prestigious gathering. Outside, a late-winter murk coated everything in grey, dampening his spirits. What was the rush to finish the job? The hard part was done, this was the bit he got to enjoy. Hell, if he stuck around, he might even win the game. What was the prize? More grog maybe?
Alert: Pollutants detected. The AI nagged inside his skull. Cognition compromised. Engaging emergency metabolism.
Lifting the mug beneath the joke-shop witch’s nose he wore, Andy took a grateful sip of mutant grog. He wasn’t sure how the mutants made it. He didn’t care. It was strong enough to make his eyes sting and tasted like soap. Plus, his AI hadn’t yet coded a tolerance for it, so it got him properly drunk like in the good old days.
Suddenly, a tree-trunk arm knocked Andy while he was taking a sip. He spluttered as the booze went down the wrong way, looking up. A fight had broken out over the game, but Andy was too busy coughing to observe. It felt like fire in his nostrils, and something shot out of his nose.
The room grew silent. The mutants were all looking at him again, a pile of betting-bones in the centre of the table. Just four players remained in the hand, himself included. Andy picked up his cards. Two-Seven offsuit. The worst hand in human poker. But a rush of defiance seized him as the grog flushed down the drain. “Strong, yes. Mighty.” Andy rose and flung his arms up dramatically. “I will bet everything, even my life.”
Andy expected an uproar. He held his pose, arms outstretched, snarling around the room, really putting on a show. The mutants gawked at him silently. Even fatty sat upright to stare.
Teasing, Andy could handle, but this was pure disrespect! It felt like outright rejection. If you farted loud enough, mutants would roar bloodlust and battle. And here he was, putting on a right show, but they didn’t bat an eyelid.
Lowering his arms, Andy followed the mutant’s gawking gaze to a patch of pale flesh on his torso. He was wet all over, he must have spilled something… He couldn’t imagine what. Green paint streaked down his torn cloth disguise, staining his black skinny jeans.
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“Runt is so… runty.” The muscular mutant beside him jabbed him in the chest. “He nearly does look like a hummy.”
“And what's his face doin’ like that?” the alpha mutant said.
Something in Andy’s drink caught his eye. Poised like a cocktail’s decoration was the prosthetic witch’s nose which he’d scavenged from a costume store days earlier. It must have snapped off. “Shit.”
Like a flash, Andy drew his revolver and fired. The nearest mutant’s head burst like a gory party popper, spraying chunks of flesh over the mutants behind it. Andy’s blood boiled as his Augmentation’s combat enhancing hormones kicked into gear, genetic pistons pumping chemicals throughout his veins, sharpening his senses and strengthening his muscles. It felt as though time slowed down to match Andy’s nonchalant pace. A familiar taste touched his tongue–metallic, but not unpleasant, like the first sip of whiskey in the morning. The taste of killing to come.
Andy danced around the table as his Evasive Fire protocol kicked in. He fired Julie sidelong at the remaining mutants, bursting three more heads like watermelons. But the alpha was smart. It flipped the table just in time to protect itself, catching a bullet on the metal sheet. Andy unpinned a flashbang and darted towards the exit, but the beached whale-mutant grabbed his ankle. It wrenched him off balance as the flashbang exploded, blinding everything in the room. Except, Andy’s Killer Instinct didn't require sight. Julie flicked in his hand and he pulled the trigger. He felt her kick, and heard the mutant’s scream as Julie severed the beast's arm at the elbow with ferocious accuracy.
Andy dove for the door, but a runt mutant stood in his way. Julie’s cylinder clicked dry as he blew a cavity in its chest, then burst through the fire exit onto an icy balcony. Unpinning a frag grenade, Andy chucked it behind him and leapt from the balcony. His knees buckled as he landed in the snow and rolled onto his back. The grenade boomed above him, shattering glass, raining glittering debris. Andy rolled to his feet and squinted in the sudden light of day, trying to get his bearings.
He was standing atop a concrete shelf at the head of a massive mountain range. An ice cold wind bit through his flimsy disguise. He sheltered his eyes from the glare, squinting at a ragged blanket of snow covering the mountain peaks, torn by jagged rocks. Behind him, the complex’s grey wall stretched over the concrete shelf, dotted with a scramble of multi-level metal walkways speckled with icicles. High above the grey wall, a huge satellite dish purveyed the sapphire blue sky. He was on the opposite side of the building to Clara. He’d need to get within her line of sight if she was to help him escape.
Something thudded beside him–an ogre mutant jumped down from the railings brandishing a cruel cudgel. Then another. Above him, a pack of runt mutants charged over the railings, yipping like hyenas, eager for the kill. Andy made a run for it. His heart raced–cardio wasn’t his strong suit–but he reloaded Julie with automatic ease, cold fingers deft like ticking clockwork.
The walkway rattled above and behind him. The runts were fast, climbing over the walkways like monkeys, keen to prove themselves to their older brother ogres. A whistling sound pelted past his ear. That was too close.
Slipping on the ice, Andy fired underarm at the mutants behind him. His Evasive Fire protocol tugged on him like marionette strings, moving his limbs a fraction this way and that, keeping him from catching a bullet. Skidding to his knees like a rockstar, Andy reloaded as he spun around, summoning his Marksman abilities. His senses sharpened as a cool flush washed through him like putting back a refreshing vodka on the rocks. Firing twice at the charging mutants, he put them down like slaughtered bulls. Their corpses skidded either side of Andy in the snow. Aiming upwards, he squeezed Julie’s trigger. Each of her hammer-strikes was a dead mutant.
Getting to his feet, Andy rounded the satellite compound when a ray of sunlight blinded him. He felt for his sunglasses, only to find them cracked in his pocket. Lopsided, he put them on and spotted the office block through the glaring snow. There was no cover, just an open fifty-metre sprint. Andy sprinted towards it, sighting the treeline in the distance wishfully. He didn’t like being shot in the back. It had happened once before, it wasn’t fun.
A gunshot popped, louder and bassier than the rest, followed by a steady rate of fire, like a kick-drum keeping time. Andy waved his hands towards the office block, then the snow at his feet kicked up in plumes of near-misses. Diving into the cover of a doorway, Andy gasped to get his breath back.
“Did you kill the alpha?” Clara’s voice crackled over the radio strapped to his ankle. Rolling up his jeans, Andy tore the device free and hit send.
“Yeah, probably.”
Andy realised that he was standing beside a window the moment it shattered. Something grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him through the glass. His Killer Instinct triggered, and Julie struck out to intercept the beast, but Andy’s arm smashed into the window frame. Shards of glass stripped his skin as he was dragged off his feet, back inside the compound.
Andy struggled helplessly as he was pinned to the floor. A huge hand gripped him by the skull, thumb digging under his jaw, pulling him to his knees. The room was dark by contrast, and his sunglasses didn’t help, but he recognised the alpha mutant’s carrion antler crown. His target had come to say bye to him, what a stroke of luck!
“Runty hummy’s gunna look nice all skinned up on ma’ wall.” The mutant’s palm smothered Andy’s nose, stinking of filth. A low rumbling laugh rang in his uncovered ear. Blood trickled from the ogre mutant’s skull where a chunk of it was missing, seemingly it didn’t need that section of its brain.
Andy choked on his Augmentation’s hormones, mixed with adrenaline and unavoidable fear like a primal cocktail, shaken not stirred. His powers were useless without a gun, and he’d never been that physically strong to begin with. Yet, a wisp of calm touched his nerves. Floating atop the waves of panic, like driftwood in a storm, came a voice from outside, sweet, yet stern. In a flash, Andy envisioned his revolver outside in the snow. He must have dropped Julie as he was dragged through the window. Now she was all alone, and cold, and calling to him.
Andy clenched his jaw in the mutant’s grasp. His teeth began to crack. Desperately, his Combat Conceptualisation protocol analysed his surroundings in a flash. The mutant had a hunting rifle slung over one shoulder, just out of reach. Andy had used up his last frag grenade, but he still had a light.
Pulling the pin, Andy let a flashbang fall at his feet and screwed his eyes shut. Just as the pressure on his skull felt too much to withstand, the flashbang burst. The alpha mutant released its grip, staggering back, swinging its arms wildly.
Drawing a combat knife from his hip, Andy leapt up and sliced the beast's chest. The wound was shallow, but it tore through the strap of the rifle. Andy grabbed the weapon and fired, blasting a hole in the mutant’s cheek bone. It’s head snapped back, and it toppled into a desk. Andy fired again, aiming for its heart, painting the room with exit-wound spray, but the beast did not fall.
The voice sang to him again, a whisper carried in on the wind from outside. Julie was waiting.
The mutant toppled forward, hands outstretched to throttle Andy in its death’s throes. Andy half-leapt through the window, but the mutant grabbed him around the waist. His revolver was just out of reach in the snow below him. His beloved.
“Don’t leave me hanging, babe.”
Andy’s heart pounded as a wave of heat flushed through him. Suddenly, Julie jumped out of the snow and propelled into his outstretched hand. Clutching her to his chest, Andy let himself be dragged back through the window. Crouching below the mutant, he jammed her muzzle into the mutant’s kneecap and fired. Julie screamed in his hands, blowing the limb apart. Kicking himself away, Andy rose shakily and aimed his revolver at the crippled animal. It heaved itself forward on massive arms, a grotesque agony on its punctured, bloodstained face.
“Wait,” Andy said. “Hold that pose.” He retrieved a small camera which Clara had made him carry for the mission and pointed it at the mutant, making sure that Julie was in the frame. It made for a pretty POV killshot. “Smile.”
Andy clicked the camera’s button and pulled the trigger. The mutant’s head burst like a melon.
A chime pinged inside his skull, reminding him of the ‘seatbelts please’ sign on an aeroplane. It had been years since Andy had last heard that sound. Attention: Affinity weapon configured. Synthesis in progress. Initial ability activated: Deadly Attraction.
Andy admired Julie in his hand–her slick mechanism, rustic curves, and polished smooth wooden handle. She was a joy to behold, the best weapon he’d ever had. Distracted, it took him a moment to process what the AI had said.
“Wait, you did this?” He addressed the robot. “I mean… you helped bring Julie and me together?”
Anomalous fixation on specified firearm identified. Experimental algorithm implemented to convert user fixation into functional capabilities.
“Anomalous fixation,” Andy scowled. “Mind your language.” He spun Julie around his finger with glee. “What’s this deadly attraction you’re on about?”
Delineation–Affinity: Deadly Attraction, Tier 1: Due to ionised particles in the Gunslinger’s blood, the Affinity weapon is attracted, comparable to a magnetic force, and may be summoned from a distance.
“Oh,” Andy fished into his pocket for the piece of paper Clara had written, holding it up. “You mean like this stuff? The abilities?”
Affirmative.
“So I have magnetic blood now?”
That is an accurate approximation of the ability, with isolated application to the Affinity weapon.
“She’s got a name, you know.” Andy tossed Julie in the air as he moved towards the window, dancing with her as though they were in a ballroom. She flew elegantly into his palms, resting her trigger on his finger like a lover’s soft kiss to the cheek. Distracted, his foot knocked the mutant’s corpse and he fumbled–Julie almost fell out of his hand, but he caught her just in time. “Hey? How come it didn’t work that time?”
Uncalibrated abilities possess imperfections. New delineation–Affinity–installation in progress: 1%. Proceed to an Augmentation Master Console to calibrate new abilities. Failure to do so will cause DNA mutation. Current mutation rate: 15%.
“There’s always a catch.” Andy holstered Julie and patted her, moving towards the smashed window. “Assuming I play along and go recalibrate, what else can you do for me and Jules?”
Potential power spike detected as significant. Background upgrade programs activated and running for T-minus eleven-thousand and eighty-two hours. Current progression hindered by user inactivity.
“Hindered? Are you throwing shade?”
Error: Jargon comprehension failure.
“Never mind,” Andy said. “So, Julie and I are your muse?”
User fixation identified. Coherent abilities undergoing development.
Andy reckoned he wouldn’t get a straight answer until he calibrated at an AMC. Footsteps thudded in the room above him and echoed down a nearby stairwell. He’d lingered long enough. Andy unhooked his radio and chimed in. “Took a detour. You ready to cover?”
“Ready,” Clara transmitted.
Climbing through the broken glass window, sprinted towards the office block. Gunfire crackled behind him as Clara responded with suppressive fire, but mutants weren’t easily suppressed. The same tactics you might use against humans rarely worked against the many monsters of the apocalypses.
Unable to slow himself, Andy slammed into the building’s brick wall and swung around the corner into cover. His long black hair stuck to his neck sweatily, despite the cold. Each breath was like icy daggers in his throat. His heartbeat pounded in his skull and his arms stung where the glass had cut them. Long streams of blood seeped over his fingers, mingling with Julie’s mechanics. It trickled over her silver hammer, into her cylinder, and down her slender barrel, dripping to the pure snow below. Something about it struck Andy as beautiful. Not for the first time, Julie took his breath away.
“You alright?” Clara said, her round blue eyes were full of concern. She ran down the exterior stairwell, skipping two steps at a time, a hefty marksman’s rifle slung over her shoulder. Andy gazed at his younger sister, half delirious from the cardio and blood loss. Her blonde ponytail bounced as she jumped to the ground, its tail sticking out the back of her black, brimmed cap. Grabbing him by the arm, she dragged him away towards the woods.
“Well that was sloppy, wasn’t it?” she said. “What happened to the plan of using finesse?”
“It’s not my fault,” Andy said, unlatching the voice modulator around his neck which was still making him sound mutant. “It was that cheap fake nose, it kept falling off. I should get a refund.”
“Don’t blame the nose,” Clara said. “The nose was a great idea.” She inspected lacerations on his arms, bandaging the worst of them quickly. Beyond the treeline, gunshots chimed like the bells of a clifftop monastery as the mutants no doubt started fighting amongst themselves. Andy smiled, enjoying the song of chaos–his triumphant anthem.
“You’re good.” She offered a hand to help him up. “Did you get any evidence?”
Andy patted the camera at his waist. “Took a few nice pics.”
“That should do.” They set off into the woods, heading towards where their jeep was parked on a mountain pass a couple miles away.
“Where now then?” Andy said.
“Back to Quadra.” Clara grinned. “It’s payday.”
For Andy, that meant more ammo, bigger guns, better booze, and a chance to put his feet up before Clara got them another job in the wasteland. Every contract was different. Next week, they might be fighting mutants, or demons, or travelling through nuclear fallout, disease and pestilence, or a thousand other apocalypses they had yet to encounter. It kept him on his toes. His sister had been pushing them into more dangerous contracts recently. Andy didn’t mind the challenge, if anything, it made things more exciting, just so long as Clara wasn’t in harm’s way.
As they trekked through the forest, Andy sobered up fast. The air grew unnervingly quiet. Andy wondered whether his nervousness was a part of himself, or more the Augmentation’s hormones saturating his veins. Was there even a separation between anymore? It had been so long since the serum had invaded his bloodstream and changed him forever. For one thing, he’d recently noticed a growth on his right foot, resembling an extra toe. The protrusion felt like a pebble in his boot.
Warning: DNA corruption has reached lethal levels. Percentage of compromised DNA has increased to 16%
“Higher is better, right?” Andy said.
Negative. Recalibrate DNA at an Augmentation Master Console to prevent irreparable damage.
“What’s the AI saying?” Clara asked. Ahead, on the side of the road, concealed beneath a fallen branch was their jeep.
“Just that I’m a dead man walking. DNA corruption.” Andy waved his hand in dismissal. “It’s no biggie.”
“No biggie?” Clara grabbed his arm. “Andy, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Andy tried to wriggle free, but his sister had a firm grip. “It says stuff like that all the time. It’s just a ploy to get my attention.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Clara scowled, letting him go. She lifted the branch and climbed inside their jeep. “Once we’re back in Quadra, you’re recalibrating.”
Andy groaned. The process was unnerving, like an enema in his mind, flushing out all the unpleasantness which he drank hard to keep down.
“You’ve got to look after yourself more,” Clara lectured, starting the engine. “Or else you’ll turn out like one of those mutants.”
Andy jumped in the passenger seat, loosening his boots’ laces.
Attention: Potential power spike detected as significant. New delineation–Affinity–installation progress: 2%. Please recalibrate at an Augmentation Master Console.
“That’s the thing with Julie, right?” Andy asked his AI.
Affirmative. Julie: Allocated name for Affinity weapon: .45 calibre revolver.
“Well, if she wants me to…” Andy patted Julie at his waist. “Is that what you want, babe?”
Julie hummed at his waist, filling him with warmth.
Attention: New delineation installation progress: 3%.
“For the love of god, don’t tell me every time.”
“What are you doing?” Clara’s scowl grew uncomfortable. “Why are you stroking your gun like that? Is it a bit?” She snorted. “I don’t get it.”
“No, I’m training, like you told me to.” Andy fished Clara’s note out of his pocket. “You can have this back by the way. I don’t think I’ll need it anymore.”
“Why’s that then?”
“Things have changed, sis.” Andy winked. “Julie and I are official.”