“Wait-wait-wait. Back off a little. Four hundred?”

“Lowest estimate.”

“You’re saying that there are at least four hundred hives hidden in the sewers of England alone? That’s crazy talk!”

“A conservative guess really. There’s probably one right under Buckingham palace.”

“And how many in the sea?”

“Uncountable…”

“Alright. I quit.”

--First and last meeting of the Ministry of Antithesis Cleanup, 2030

I pull my new fluffy appendage into my lap, running my fingers through its soft, bushy fur. It’s a pleasant greyish silver with black stripes, remarkably similar to my siblings’ coats. My hair slips over my shoulders as I’m looking down, and I realise it’s a matching silver with patchy black streaks now.

I reach up and run my fingers through it, finding it as soft to the touch as my tail.

“Is there a mirror around here?”

I believe there was one in the bathroom you passed in the hallway.

I spring up out of the seat, landing without making a sound and quickly moving through the small space, surprising myself with the ease in my movement.

“Moving feels so natural,” I mutter in surprise.

I can definitely tell I’m shorter than I was before, a fact that only adds to my current buzz, and my weight sits in a new place thanks to both the new limb hanging from my back, and actually having a slight chest now.

However, despite this I deftly slip around a tight corner, twisting and extending my tail to balance myself on instinct, feeling completely at home in my new body already.

I step into the bathroom, flicking on the cheap artificial lights and staring at myself in the cracked mirror hanging above the sink.

My hair’s a scruffy mess still, but it looks oddly well-styled, framing my face and flowing down to stop halfway up my shoulder blades. My face looks soft, all traces of my viciously sharp jaw gone and replaced by plush, pinchable cheeks.

My focus is quickly drawn to my odd eyes though, which are even more noticeable than the ears twitching in my hair.

They’re so eye-catching thanks to the large black mark, like a tattoo, bridging my nose and spreading out from my eyes, ending in upward swept peaks, like the swipes of a paintbrush. It’s somewhat similar to my siblings’ masks.

The eyes themselves are the strangest bit though. They’re pitch black, with the irises having a slight grey shade to them that help me make out their shape when I focus.

“My eyes are funky.”

That would be due to the Nighteye upgrade.

“Cool.”

I drink in my new appearance, burning it into my mind, before looking down at my tattered clothing.

“I might as well deal with this while I’m in here. Cyon, what should I do for clothes?”

A tiny, pitch-black raccoon steps out from behind the tap before growing in size to fill the sink, staring up at me.

I believe that will depend heavily on how you would like to progress as a Vanguard.

“How I’d like to progress?”

Yes. I mean things such as what combat style do you wish to follow? Do you intend to grow a force of followers or fight yourself? Do you still wish to continue with melee combat, or do you like the idea of explosives more? Do you have any other goals you will need Vanguard tech for like your transition?

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“Okay, okay. I get the picture, but haven’t I already answered some of those before?”

Yes, but I believe it would be good for you to evaluate the question as a whole right now to give me a clear direction to work towards in the future. Besides, your answers might have changed after experiencing more combat.

“Sure, I guess that makes sense.”

I shrug and scratch the side of my head where my old ears used to be, something I’m not sure I’m used to yet, as I consider my response.

“Well, I still want to fight myself, that still hasn’t changed, but I’m not sure I want to fight hordes myself like that?”

My fingernails feel like they’re itching, so I take them away from my head and look at them, flexing and watching as they suddenly extend into sharp-looking points.

“Wait what the fuck!”

The genetic conversion gave you the base form of Prolotor’s retractable claws, nothing to be shocked about.

I draw in my new biological weapon and feel myself flush, feeling slightly embarrassed that the claws surprised me more than the tail or ears.

“Quiet you. Is there anything else important I should know about my changes?”

You didn’t gain any muscular improvement thanks to your existing upgrades, but you did receive a notable improvement to your natural regeneration which can be further enhanced if wanted.

“Helpful.”

You also have basic fangs, though once again like your claws they are limited without anything to inject into your prey.

“I can inject things?” I ask, peeling my lips back and inspecting my pointed canines.

From venoms to cultured bacteria and viruses.

“Cool. Anything else?”

While the conversion did include full genital reconstruction, you are infertile. Combat genomes aren’t expected to reproduce, so if you would like to experience more traditional motherhood you will need further mutation.

“Okay, back to plotting my progress it is,” I say, quickly diverting the conversation back and shivering at the idea of having children.

The only kids I need are more raccoons.

Good. So, you would like to fight yourself, but you want to avoid hordes?

“I don’t want to avoid hordes; I just don’t want to get stuck with the small ones. I wanted to get my claws into one of those big guys, but I ended up having to let the others blow them up. Is it possible for me to sneak through a horde to get to the big ones?”

Stealth is completely an option, though surprisingly not a commonly chosen one.

“Okay, then I want to use stealth to fight against the bigger aliens myself! It will help against any little ones too. Then all I need to do is give my siblings stuff to clear the small ones with!”

Could I suggest you consider purchasing additional raccoons to grow a larger force as well?

“I can buy more raccoons?!”

Of course you can. You can purchase pre-trained and modified creatures, the equipment to clone your siblings, or even robots that simply look like them. Whatever you want.

“New goal, I want to fill England with raccoons.”

It wouldn’t be the most point efficient hobby, but it’s completely valid. If you equip them with sufficient sensory skills and equipment, they could act as a great way to find hidden hives in cities and the wilderness. You could help prevent situations like the one you are in now.

“Yeah, that’s great and all, but I just want more fluff balls.”

Understood. So stealth, melee, and a raccoon army. I can work with that.

The small black raccoon nods vigorously before turning into a spinning vortex for a few moments. I quietly watch in confusion, waiting until it morphs into a pitch black, skin-tight bodysuit the same size as me.

In that case I would like to suggest unlocking both Class I Basic Stealth Systems and Class I Prolotor Viral Apparel for a total of one hundred and fifty points, then combining them to purchase a Mark V Clothing Symbiote with integrated stealth capabilities for three hundred and fifty points.

“That’s quite a lot of points for something that doesn’t look all that protective. What is it?”

Clothing Symbiotes are a form of living virus that bond to the user and shift to cover and protect their body. You can change it into the form of almost any clothes you want, and it is both resistant to slashing and blunt force attacks. It will easily deflect the claws and teeth of most single digits and can consume matter to regenerate any damage done. Along with that, the integrated stealth capabilities will allow you to effectively turn invisible to the naked eye.

The black suit shifts and a blurred image of the sink behind it comes into view through it, quickly clarifying until I think Cyon might have just disabled the hologram.

While the Antithesis will still be able to detect you through other methods, there are upgrades you can purchase later to reduce those as well.

“Cool. I want it.”

¯¯¯¯¯

New Purchases!

Class I Basic Stealth Systems – 100 points

Class I Prolotor Viral Apparel – 50 points

Mark V Clothing Symbiote – Modified – 350 points

Total: 500 points

Remaining points: 490

_____

A shoebox with an image of a raccoon screaming in panic as a large blob of black ooze consumes it appears on the floor in front of the sink.

“Cyon… What’s with the art?”

It’s an artistic rendition of equipping the Clothing Symbiote.

I choose to ignore her obvious attempt to scare me and bend down, flicking the box open to find a large glass tube filled to the brim with black liquid, with a silver metal casing on one end.

Please place your thumb on the indicated face so the Symbiote can take a blood sample.

They are just attempts to scare me, right?

I pull the tube out and flip it, following the raised grooves running along the metal casing to a small, thumb sized plate on the end where my injectors’ needles would usually be.

I place my thumb against it and feel a small prick, a surprise considering my normal painless injections. The casing clicks, and a moment later it splits down the middle, sliding apart to let the viscous black fluid inside out.

“What do-“

The black liquid shoots out of the container and races up my arms, mimicking the raccoon on the box.

Is this how I die?