Andy reloaded his revolver in the dark, regretting having not taken a headlamp for the mission. The carriage clicked on the tracks beneath him, echoing down the tunnel. Andy glanced back, but he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. He put the payload under the carriage seat and withdrew his hip flask from a breast pocket, taking a swig.
“How do I fight that thing?” he said to himself.
Calculating.
Andy paused. He’d never asked his AI for help before, and he hadn’t intended to now, but perhaps it could be of some use. “Well?”
Abilities insufficient.
“Fuck you, what’s that supposed to mean, insufficient?”
You possess limited variability in combat abilities. Cause: a lack of discipline and training. Enhance Augmentation potential through practice and experimentation. Synthesis with the serum required.
“Alright, rub it in.” Andy said. Of course the machine took now to lecture him, in his time of need. Opportunistic bitch.
The air grew cold and moist with the smell of raw meat. Slowly, the space around him lit with a soft red light coming from bowl-like glass domes in the floor. Carcasses dangled from meat hooks all around him, concealing the depth of the room. There were humans, pigs, and other indiscernible creatures, all with their heads missing. Chains rattled in the distance. Something scraped across the floor.
Andy gawked at the gore, sitting on the edge of his seat, Julie in one hand, his semi-automatic pistol in the other. The carriage was moving painfully slowly. He glanced behind him again. Nothing was pursuing. Ahead of him, one carcass swung on its hook as though it had been knocked. Footsteps thudded across the room. Suddenly, a carcass was thrown aside and some animalistic abomination threw itself at him. Andy fired once, allowing his Augmentation’s Killer Instinct to guide his aim. He had a split second to observe the pig head on a man’s fat body before chunks of its skull were splattering the fixtures behind it. A black cloud erupted from the wound, along with a spray of blood. Fake blood? Andy couldn’t tell what was fake and what was real. Was the pig-man even a threat, or just another ghost train jump scare?
Andy flicked his radio back on. “Clara, I have the package. Leaving now.”
“Affirmative,” the radio crackled faintly. The signal was poor, interfered by the castle walls, but at least she got the message.
Andy jolted as a second thud sounded. Another of the pig beasts barged through the hanging carcasses and onto the tracks behind him. Andy couldn’t detect any spring mechanism or pulley system controlling it. The beast snorted and let out a blood curdling squeal. Andy swivelled in his seat and fired once with Enhanced Precision. The pig-thing tumbled into a heap on the tracks, a gaping hole in its eye socket. No gore left the wound, only a snaking trail of dark purple smoke.
Andy could hear more of the beats running about the room, converging on his position, but the hanging carcasses blocked his line of sight. If anything burst into the open, Andy would only have a second or two to react before it reached his carriage.
“Let’s go baby,” Andy said, hyping himself up. A metallic tang stung his tongue like biting into a chilli as his Augmentation kicked into gear, pumping him full of artificial steroids. “You there, AI?”
Processing threats.
“If there’s an overdrive mode, turn it on now. I’ll play along with whatever you’ve got.”
Three pig men crashed through the swinging carcasses ahead. They were all fat and bloated, the veins on their distended stomachs blue and bruised. They squealed and snuffed the air, pig heads freakishly large for their bodies. One of pig heads bore tusks, it held the weight of its head up with one arm, turning its beady eyes on his carriage. They charged at him, loping over the tracks, letting the weight of their heads carry them forwards. Andy’s senses felt sharp, his aim was perfect. Firing each of his weapons in turn, he put three bullets through the skulls of his attackers. Their heads snapped back one by one, collapsing onto the tracks. Tendrils of dark purple smoke emanated from their wounds, dissipating in the cold air.
The carriage collided with the bodies, abruptly slowing, struggling to push them out of the way. Leaving the payload where it was beneath his seat, Andy leapt out of the cart. The floor was made of corrugated metal. He considered running ahead without the carriage, but then remembered what the ghost train route was like on the way up the castle–some of the track was like a rollercoaster. It would be hard to traverse on foot. He needed the carriage for the fast bits.
A pig-man burst from cover opposite the tracks. Andy could see the patchwork stitching where wire knitted their pig’s head to its bodies. Andy thrummed with energy as he channelled a Vortex Shot up through his feet, swirling in his chest, erupting through Julie as he pulled the trigger. The pigman was blown backwards by the surge, the carcasses around the beast swung on their hooks like they’d just been punched by a heavyweight boxer. But then, to Andy’s dismay, the pig-man rose again. One arm hung by a thread, stripping itself free of the beast’s shoulder. The Vortex Shot had less impact than Andy had expected–less than on hordes of zombies–it had only made him less accurate.
Alert: Newly activated capabilities require calibration at the Augmentation Master Console to achieve optimal functionality.
“Why didn’t you say sooner?”
Error: Repetition detected.
“Don’t get sassy with me.” Andy shot the injured pig-man between its eyes with his semi-automatic pistol. Each gunshot was like a dinner bell. The pounding of flesh pattered like hailstone all around him. Andy scrambled to remove the bodies blocking the track. They were soft and fleshy like real bodies. The carriage sped up as he removed them, then Andy grabbed the railing to hop back inside.
Suddenly, he was picked off his feet. Flying backwards, his hip banged against the tracks as he hit the ground. Rolling to a kneeling position, Andy fired at the attacker, emptying Julie. He started reloading with one hand, but then another beast attacked him from a blind spot. Cold fingers closed around his neck. Ducking and weaving free, Andy flicked Julie’s cylinder shut and fired two Vortex Shots. Each shockwave cleared some space, but the hanging carcasses absorbed most of the power, rattling on their chains. He had a moment to reload and think before the onslaught fell upon him like a tidal wave.
A shot of rich, malty hormones rushed through his system as his Augmentation activated Evasive Fire protocol. Andy moved gracefully, like a plastic bag on the wind, senses heightened, reflexes invigorated. He fired his semi-automatic pistol in one hand, reloading Julie with his other. Cold flesh collided with him as he wove through the carcasses, trying to re-orientate himself to the carriages’ tracks. A pig face appeared before him, bloodlust in its tiny pupils. It grasped for Andy, but he was too quick, ducking under the swipe and planting Julie to its temple. This close, the destination of Julie’s muzzle was like a soft kiss against Andy’s cheek. Smoky ruin replaced the pig’s face as Julie blew a chunk out of its skull.
Andy glided through the carcasses as the pig-men flailed for him, guided by his Augmentation’s sharp persuasion, his Hitman abilities working in tandem, putting him in a trance-like flow state. Andy fired Reflex Shots left and right underarm, killing his attackers like a jazz drummer working his kit, slamming the snare, crashing the cymbals, viciously precise, seemingly random but inexplicably keeping time. Andy tossed three frag grenades at his feet. Each explosion shook the metal floor, silencing the thud and squeal of pursuers.
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Falling into the open, red lights illuminated the carriage’s tracks. Andy ran down the tracks after the carriage, but with nothing to hinder the mechanism, it was picking up speed. All around him, pig faces and fat bodies emerged from the meat locker. There were too many. He wasn’t equipped for this. Discarding spent magazines, Andy focussed on those pig-men blocking his path. Behind him, the squealing multiplied, growing shrill, punctuated by the drum of heavy feet on metal.
Andy reached the carriage and jumped into the seat. Ahead, the lights disappeared over an edge along with the tracks, while the hanging carcasses continued, suspended on the ceiling over the drop.
Andy took a cold, calming breath, the sharp taste of his Marksman hormones flushing his system. Augmented enhanced perception marinated his brain, slowing time for his Combat Conceptualisation to operate. Turning around, he viewed the butchery like a scene from a movie he’d seen a thousand times. About two dozen pig-men charged towards him. His semi-automatic pistol’s magazine was half spent, but Julie’s cylinder was full. There were more attackers than he had bullets, sprinting and stumbling on the tracks, making collateral kills impossible. One pig barged into another, sending it crashing to the floor. The fat beast heaved itself up and loped forward screaming, desperate not to be the last piggy to the dinner table.
He was out of grenades. The carriage was too slow, they would reach him before it dropped off the edge. His Vortex Shot alone wouldn’t cut it. He’d have to make every bullet count.
Attention: Accelerated configuration complete. Activating Marksman ability: Miraculous Ricochet.
A line flashed before Andy’s eyes like a bolt of electricity, drawing a dot-to-dot between three of the beast's skulls. It disappeared almost immediately, but then a second line flashed, and a third, each seeming to emanate from him. Some of the lines were pale, while others were bright and demanding. Here, they commanded. Now.
As he focussed on the dashing lines, ecstasy fizzled in his veins. Biological pistons pumped chemicals through his body, ice cold, like he’d just jumped into a plunge-pool. Andy flicked his wrist towards one of the bolts and fired. Julie kicked in his hand, the air cracked around him. Like a skipping stone, a single .45 calibre round thudded once, twice, thrice, finding its mark. Three pig-men fell upon the tracks. The feeling was spectacular, like he had cheated reality, like he could guess any card in a deck or any number on roulette, and it would come up his, if only he went with the flow and picked the right time to draw.
Andy breathed deeply, standing perfectly poised, wielding Julie and her playmate akimbo. His mind hummed like an engine. Another bolt sped from his purview. He snatched at it like a dog snapping at meat, firing once, felling two beasts. Carnage was his word. Cackling with glee, he sought the bolts, catching them at their brightest and pulling the trigger. He felt captivated by impulse, absent of thought. Only action. Only killing.
Suddenly, the world beneath him lurched. Andy squatted in the carriage as it plummeted, shoving his pistol into his mouth and grabbing the guard railing not to be flung out. Julie stuck to his other hand like glue, their Deadly Attraction keeping her from going astray. With a gut-wrenching tug, the carriage lifted upwards. Something hit his ankle. Alarmed, he kicked it against the wall of the carriage, trapping it there. If he hadn’t caught it with his foot, the briefcase would have flown out.
The track beneath him twisted and turned before he had a chance to correct himself. Holstering Julie and his sidearm, Andy bent to grab the briefcase, but a surprise loop threw his arms in the air. The briefcase fell downwards, which for a brief moment looked like upwards. Andy only just grabbed it by the handle with his pinky finger. He groaned in pain as the weight of the briefcase tore the ligaments in his hand as the ride threw him this way and that, struggling to bend his other fingers around the handle for a better grip.
The carriage broke abruptly. Andy fell into the footwell, his feet above him. The payload banged into his chest. Winded, he climbed upright and looked around.
A veil of inky blackness surrounded him as the carriage waded through a tunnel of liquid. The substance gurgled, sending ripples through the room. Pale blue light danced up the walls and ceiling, disturbed by the carriage’s path.
“What was that?” Andy said, rubbing his elbow where he banged it. “What did I do back there?”
Conducted analysis of projectile behaviour post-impact on target extremities. Conclusion: Significant potential energy is dissipated due to non-utilization of residual projectiles or fragments following initial target neutralisation. This augmentation incorporates trajectory identification protocols, providing the user with real-time ricochet potential visualisation.
Expedited installation of Marksman Augmentation ability: Miraculous Ricochet.
“Oh, so it’s like the magic bullet theory?”
Negative. The projectile lacks magical properties. The functionality is derived from mathematical algorithms and anatomical accuracy.
“No, the magic bullet theory,” Andy persisted. “The JFK assassination. You must know about that? You were made by the governments, right? Had access to all their secret files? Downloaded the entire internet?”
Andy looked around the room while his AI computed a response. It was quiet, almost alluring. The liquid was still. The only ripples made were those from his carriage, heading outwards on tiny waves, announcing his presence to the tunnel beyond.
Error: Query computation failure.
“It wasn’t a query, robot. I’m telling you, this ability is just like the magic bullet that supposedly killed JFK. Apparently, the sniper shot him from the back of his head, but the bullet bounced around his skull and exited out the left. The same as what I was doing to those pig things.”
There was no response.
“It was a whole cover up. They framed Oswald. You can see it in the video.” Andy slapped his skull. “Back and to the left. I know you had access to government files while you were being created–probably downloaded the entire internet too. You seriously don’t know what I’m talking about?”
Ripples approached from afar, contending with those emitted by the carriage, creating small splashes and waves. Something moved in the water ahead of him.
Proceed to an Augmentation Master Console to calibrate modifications applied to my software and your DNA.
“Quit reading from a script. Be real with me, for once.”
Something breached the water–spines on a serpent’s back. It sent waves towards his carriage. Then a head broke the inky water before his carriage. Its eyes were large and sharp, its long snout cut into a snarl. Andy watched the monster approach, but his mind was elsewhere.
“You know what I’m talking about. Just give me something, call it a sign of trust. Go on, tell me something really juicy. How did the cataclysm happen? Do you know that one?”
Silence.
“Okay, I’ll start a little easier. Who built the pyramids? Was it aliens? Was the moon landing faked? How really killed JFK? No, I’ve got one better… Who really killed Kurt Cobain?”
The serpent rose before him, jaws wide. A row of knife-blade teeth sparkled as the inky black waters drained from its mouth. Andy planted his feet in the footwell of the carriage and fired a Vortex Shot the moment it plunged at him. Julie’s blast knocked it back into the waters with a splash. Andy fired again into the back of its skull, emptying Julie into its brains. Black smoke emanated from the punctures, and it sank back beneath the waters.
“I’m not your puppet,” Andy continued. “You’re my Augmentation, you’re in my body. You will obey me.”
Removing low-priority classified restrictions. Andy listened intently, reloading Julie slowly, holding his breath. Data indicates that the moon is artificial in nature. The probability of a solar eclipse occurring by chance is estimated at one in 10^30,000,000. Additionally, energy anomalies recorded during the eclipse are correlated with cataclysmic events.
“Wait, let me get this straight.” Andy licked his lips. “So the moon landing wasn’t faked, but the moon is?”
Data indicates affirmative.
“Cool.” Andy nodded, contemplating it. “Yeah, you know what, that’ll do. I’m satisfied.”
The carriage rose out of the liquid, inky fluid dripping into the scaffolding tracks below. He caught a glimpse of moonlight through an ornate window beside the tracks, then his ride plunged down a tunnel. Andy grabbed the railing tightly, holding the payload in his other. The wind rushed in his face, howling in his ears. Creatures flew at him–bats chirping and colliding with the carriage. He ducked out of the way as ghostly white sheets flapped overhead. They moaned at him, icy cold, freezing his fingertips where they brushed over his gloved hands, before being wisped away. Were they real? Was any of it real? Andy had lost track.
A fat hairy spider fell into the carriage with him. Andy stomped on it with a crunch. Then, with a sickening feeling in his stomach, the tracks heaved upwards, evening out and turning a corner. The smell of damp mud and weathered brickwork filled his nostrils. He was outside again. Moonlight lit the staging platform where the tracks had started their journey up the castle. He hopped out of the carriage before it could roll to a halt and radioed in Clara.
“I’ve got the payload. Think I awoke the boss man. How’s it going on your end?”
There was no response.
“Clara, you there?”
“Andy.” Her voice sounded apprehensive. Andy held his breath for more, not wanting to clog the airwaves. “I’m about to do something insane. Get to the square now.”