“Are war crimes really valid against plants? I mean, come on!

It’s not like they’re people or something.”

--Uncredited. Suspected: Samurai Shoggoth, during the Global Incursion.

The plants near silently turn some of their ranks to face me, and the entire flock of flyers swoop down towards me. I immediately prime the Needler in my hands and toss it out, watching three identical grenades sailing down towards the horde from above, before ducking back around the corner and bracing.

I hear a series of pops, followed by a rapid tapping and several thuds. I see several needles fly past in a blink and bury themselves in the walls of a run-down housing unit nearby, sending a chill down my spine as I fail to follow them even with my improved eyesight and drug-enhanced reflexes.

I glance around the corner and see the birds and a collection of Threes lying dead between me and the rest of the horde, but there are plenty of living plants, and quite a lot of them are now running at me.

{Again,} I squeak before urgently ducking back and jumping away as something blows a chunk of concrete from the wall in front of me.

I look at the ground beside me and see a long, sleek, quill buried halfway into the ground.

‘Okay, I think they have a target now.’

I hear another set of pops, followed by hurried padding claws coming towards me.

{Aim for the big ones. Again!}

This time, instead of a dull pop, I hear I violent crackle as something ignites. I wait for a moment, hearing the approaching claws pause in confusion as well, before leaping around the corner and lowering myself to dash towards the horde.

I see a collection of Threes treading over the bodies of their allies, looking back at the Fives and Sixes covered in burning foam.

I race towards them, closing the gap to the first plant before they even turn back to me and slashing its throat from the side.

The dogs immediately turn their focus back to me, no longer caring about the strange, distorted whistle coming from the Sixes and throwing themselves at me. I slip between bites and slashes, carving chunks from the plants and slowly advancing towards the burning mess in front of the gang’s stronghold.

{Move!} I hear Stripe squeak through my earpiece as I rise from burying my fingers in the back of a xeno’s skull.

I immediately spring to the side, narrowly avoiding a volley of quills, half of them covered in sticky, burning foam. A few of the spines nicked my side, ripping open my hoodie and drawing three thin lines of blood across my ribs.

I look up, quickly spotting the strange, bear-like pointing a deadly array of pointed quills at me despite its own distress. My hand snaps back to the heavy bowie knife behind my back, and I flick it out with a harsh snap of my wrist, stressing every muscle in my arm and sending the blade flying across the battlefield and into the bush’s forehead with enough force to bury it down to the handle.

I glance up at the nearby roof, spotting my siblings peering over the edge and staring down at me.

‘This is within twenty metres, right? Get them some grenades to kill the fives with.’

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‘Save that till after the fight please! I don’t want to spoil my point gains.’

Of course. I’ve sent them their grenades now.

‘Thanks, Cyon!’

I drop below a leaping doggo with a pleased grin on my face, raking my claws along its belly.

{Throw at the big ones!} I squeaked, returning my full focus to the battle in front of me as a pile of rags I stepped too close to leaps out to slash its many bladed limbs at me.

I rip the Nine to pieces, dodging another spray of quills that manages to kill a few of the Threes around me with only a few scratches on my legs.

Three deep booms signal the end of the plant that fired on me, and the crowd pouring back out of the fortified structure thins a little thanks to the explosions.

Without the added strain from the ranged fire, I make easy work of the plants swarming me, bounding across the green-bloodstained streets as I tear them limb from limb. A few of the Fours manage to catch me with a couple of glancing blows, but the longer the fight goes on, the more I adjust to my new-found strength and flexibility, leaning into the erratic combat style that makes my blood boil and relying on my instincts and reflexes to guide my body through the crowd thankfully thinned by our explosives.

Eventually, the booms stop, and I leap on the last surviving tentacled mass before me, slipping between its limbs before severing them at the base with one hand and driving the other into its pelvis, ending its struggle.

I collapse to my knees on top of the corpse, panting for breath and slowly looking around the fresh garden I’ve planted in the street.

Congratulations, Targets Eliminated!

Points increased to… 1831

Tokens increase to… 1

“Woah,” I mutter aloud between breaths.

It was slightly too deep this time, but not enough to be unpleasant, so I kept going aloud trying to force myself to practice.

“Why so much? And a token?”

Not only did you kill a lot of Antithesis, including several Fives and Sixes from which you received most of the points available, but you saved over a hundred people when including the people fighting off the Antithesis, and the people in the shelter below their building. The Protectors encourage actions to save other humans, so I chose to grant you a token for that achievement.

“Cool.” I winced because my voice dropped a little too low and returned to subvocalising for now.

‘Will you punish me for ignoring people then? I’ll make sure their shelter is fine, but I don’t really want to deal with the Monkeys, even if they’re injured.’

While humanitarian efforts are rewarded, you won’t be punished for avoiding them. If you would rather limit your social interaction, that’s fine. However, if you still have an interest in helping people, you could always invest in subordinates or robots to do it for you.

‘Really?’

Of course. You could even buy upgrades to allow your siblings to talk to people for you if you wanted. Now, as interesting as discussing increasing your social skills is, could I advise using some of those points to stop your bleeding?

‘Yeah.’ I glance down at my tattered, bloody clothing as my breath finally stabilises. ‘That’s probably a good idea. Get me something to stop all this bleeding for now. We’ll do some shopping after cleaning up this mess.’

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Points reduced to… 1826

A small box appears in the air in front of me, so I quickly reach out and catch it. There’s a cartoon raccoon covered in cuts injecting itself with a small red syringe on the top, and when I pop it open, I see said syringe inside. I pull it out and press it to my arm without a thought, watching the red liquid vanish into me and looking down to see my shallow cuts quickly scabbing over.

This is a helpful drug from your Prolotor Drugs catalogue to temporarily boost your blood clotting. I assume your following purchases will render further repair pointless for now, so I would suggest just dealing with the ugly scabs for now.

‘Got it. Right, time to check on the Monkeys.’

{Come down.} I squeak, calling back my siblings only to hear a squeak behind me.

I turn around and see my siblings scrambling over the corpses surrounding me with their little sacks strapped to their backs and proud expressions on their faces. They leap onto me, and I let myself fall back on my ass on top of the dead Four, pulling off my gloves and tossing them aside to give some proper scratches.

{We do good?} Chip chirps, enjoying a thorough scritch behind the ears.

{Yes. Well done.} I chirp back with a giddy smile.

I can’t help but start purring softly again, still giddy about being able to speak to my lovable little furballs. After a minute of indulging in my sibling’s fluff, giving them the praise they deserve for their hard work, I stand up and slip my gloves on again, scrambling past the scorched, scattered remains of several plants blown beyond recognition to approach the Monkey Parade’s stronghold.