Chapter Eleven - The Rave From Hell

“Epigraphs? Who the hell reads epigraphs? What the hell is an epigraph?”

—Aart Verhoeven, Assistant Dean of Coca-Cola® College of Fine Arts, 2033

***

I was blinded by strobing lights and neon flashes. the deep wub wub of electronic bass vibrated my bones. My augs were quickly pinged by a dozen different ads, offering either music subscriptions or more elicit services.

I recognized the place. Electric Embers was the nightclub in Billings, and only a rare few got to visit it in person. I’d only been in person once, when I was dating the bartender… who’d promptly dumped me when she found out I couldn’t afford the outrageous price they charged for drinks.

Even now, the club was busy. Holographic men and women in overly tight (or entirely nonexistent) clothing gyrated across the floor, brought to life by projectors surreptitiously placed around the room. Most of them were bots, based on the look—either emblazoned with brands from companies that’d paid the nightclub to advertise, or overly beautiful in that artificial way that suggested they were there to trick the patrons into buying more drinks.

However, there were also some weirder avatars in the mix: some like anime girls, others in the form of anthropomorphic animals, and still more in stranger, more esoteric shapes. These would be the actual patrons, logged into the club via the Mesh. Didn’t they know that there was an incursion going on?

At least they were having fun distracting the Antithesis. An entire pack of Model Threes and Fours were jumping around the nightclub, flailing teeth and tentacles at holographic people in the dark. The “real” dancers were making a game of it, taunting the aliens to ram into furniture and waving virtual capes like they were in some ancient bullfighting show.

None of them had seen me yet. I turned around and quickly pulled Harry into the club, hoping that the throbbing music would mask his yelp as I moved us behind the nearest booth. I silently shushed him with a finger to my lips, pointing in the direction of the xenos.

While Harry peeked over the booth, I looked back at our entrance. The door we’d come through had obviously been boarded up at some point with soundproof paneling, which had all fallen off when Harry had kicked it open. We were lucky that the Antithesis hadn’t heard it over the rest of the noise, but it wouldn’t be long before the light-filled doorway attracted their attention. We couldn’t just leave them be, either, since the exit was behind them. We had to deal with them.

I had to deal with them.

Unfortunately, my current weapon probably wasn’t the best choice; even with Harry, there were simply too many aliens to deal with. I needed something better. With a flick of my eyes, the guns Lynata had shown me earlier filled my vision. There were too many choices, but I didn’t need a perfect gun—just something good enough to deal with the current situation. I only had to scroll past a few options before one caught my eye.

The Mark V Chatter. An excellent choice. Its six-millimeter ammunition can be fired very rapidly with little recoil, aided by the aggressive porting of the barrel and precisely calibrated springs. The fifty-round drum magazine allows for the rapid disabling of multiple small Models, although you will find it insufficient for larger foes.

“Does it come with explosive ammo, too?” I asked, my whisper lost in the noise around me.

It can, although it would not be especially more lethal.

“Add it anyway. Please.”

With pleasure!

The box appeared between me and Harry, causing the security guard to jump. I wordlessly opened it, trying to prevent my hands from shaking as I looked the gun over. It was bulkier and heavier than the last two, with some little glowing stripes up and down the side to match my surroundings. Overall, it was pretty similar to the other guns, but this one felt different for some reason. Powerful. It was the first gun I’d gotten that made me really feel like a Samurai.

I wanted to keep checking out the gun, wanted to keep putting it off longer, but I couldn’t. Not if we still wanted to have the drop on the Antithesis. With a sigh, I grabbed the foregrip at the front of my new machine pistol and finally looked up at Harry. We locked eyes and he nodded, readying his own firearm. Oh yeah, we were on the same wavelength.

We both popped up from behind the booth and fired at the same time. The deep booms of his Defiance Deputy met the staccato burps of my Chatter as we lit up the nightclub with twin tongues of flame. Two aliens went down in as many seconds as Harry’s carefully aimed shot popped a Model Three’s head clean off, while I sprayed down a Model Four until it bonelessly flopped to the floor.

The rest of the Antithesis reacted near-instantly, abandoning their game of whack-a-hologram for a chance at live prey. A small horde raced towards us, and I resisted the urge to just hold down the trigger. Just like in a Mesh-shooter, it turned out to be easier to control the gun in small bursts, and I could barely see the xenos besides.

Harry shot again, blowing out a Four’s knee, and the fireball illuminated a few other aliens for a split second. I fired into the mess, watching my point counter tick upward as Lynata kept track of my kills. Harry increased the tempo as the Antithesis grew closer, and I matched him with two longer bursts until I clicked on empty. I cursed as the xenos scrabbled over their dead, backing up as a single Model Four bounded over a dividing barrier and took a swipe at me.

Harry quickly popped that one in the head, too, then continued to cover me as Lynata supplied a fresh magazine from thin air and I reloaded. I returned the favor by emptying the entire thing into a pair of Model Threes that tried to jump on top of him.

The mall cop let out his own little not-swear as he too ran empty, then dropped his gun to pull me back right before a claw could slice my neck open. We retreated back into the maintenance stairwell, Harry dragging me along as I punched a Model Three in desperation. I felt a tug at my waist, then flinched as a gun went off right next to my head.

I dropped to one knee as Harry fired his pilfered pistol again, taking out the nearest Antithesis while I finished reloading. A Model Four filled the doorway only for the both of us to fill it full of holes, then there was a short pause. Harry reached down and swiped a magazine from my other pocket as I tried to get rid of the ringing in my ear, then we filled the entrance with lead again as the dead xeno’s friends ripped its body out of the way.

Then… silence. Other than the lovely, now-familiar sensation of tinnitus, and the faint thumping of music felt more than heard, there was nothing. No more aliens shuffling around, no more whip-cracks of tentacles mere inches from my face. We’d killed them all.

“Was… was that it?” I asked.

Harry huffed, then helped me to my feet. “Probably. Most Antis aren’t smart enough to play dead.”

I furrowed my brow. “So we’re done?”

The mall cop gave me a look. “Are you disappointed?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that, it’s just… I mean, sure, there were a few close calls there, but that just seemed kinda… easy, you know? I didn’t even lose any fingers this time,” I said, showing off the bandage around my missing digits.

Harry put a hand to my forehead. “Are you feeling alright? Did you hit your head? You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

I slapped his hand away. “I’m not sick! I’m just…” I took a longer pause to really get my thoughts in order. “It just seems like every other time I’ve been in a fight, I almost got eaten in return. Or almost bled out. Or something. This time we killed a whole pack of the bastards and I’m… Okay? Sorry, I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Harry chuckled and gave me a pat on the back. “I think I get it, yeah. Not every engagement has to end badly, though. Unless you want to poke around the bodies and make sure they’re all really dead? Maybe one will jump up at ya.”

I glanced at the mound of dead bodies, then back at Harry. “Can’t I just shoot them? That seems easier.”

He chuckled again. “That works too.”

I shrugged and put a few more rounds into the carcasses, looking up as my counter went up once more. “Oh, yeah, that one wasn’t actually dead ye—Wait, I have how many points?”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

I am assuming that your question is rhetorical.

Harry looked over. “How many did you get?”

“One hundred and fifty-two,” I breathed out. It wasn’t really all that much, compared to what I knew a Samurai could get, but it was the most I’d ever had. It meant that I no longer needed to limit my spending to medical supplies and ammo.

“Nice!” Harry responded. “What do you want to do with them?”

“I… Don’t really know.” That wasn’t exactly true; anyone who’d played a Samurai-based Mesh game had some idea about the order in which to buy gear. The “meta” was usually to focus on offense, buying a series of better and better weapons to get an exponential growth in points. Unfortunately, real life was a bit more complicated. “I think I need to get some defensive gear—I’m a little tired of getting chewed up.”

“Good idea. Anything specific?”

There are several viable armors within your point threshold, if you wish to hear of them.

I held up my hand to let Harry know I wasn’t ignoring him. “Lynata has some suggestions.” I turned away from him and put a finger to my ear like I was on a call. It was still weird talking to a voice in my head. “Could I get the dealer’s choice? I don’t feel like going through hundreds of options right now.”

Certainly! Class One Protective Clothing is a sufficiently versatile catalog for lower-grade defensive options, remaining well within your budget. The catalog, along with a fully armored outfit, will cost one hundred and fifty points.

I winced. “Is there anything cheaper? That’s my entire point margin.”

Other options would severely compromise protection for little benefit in value.

I sighed. “What about Harry? He needs something too.” I pretended not to see the mall cop putting a hand over his heart out of the corner of my eye.

The armored clothing could be split amongst the two of you, although it would protect significantly less than a full outfit.

“Alright, then do tha—” I stopped as Harry put a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “You need it more.”

I furrowed my brow. “Harry, you’ve saved my ass several times now. Why shouldn’t I help you back?”

He smiled. “Well, you’ve kept me safe so far. Besides, you’re the one who needs to stay alive—it doesn’t matter if I die. You’re the Samurai.”

“You know, you’re really not helping your case here.”

“Just do it.”

I sighed for the second time in as many minutes. “Fine. Lynata, please give me the full set.”

Class I Protective Clothing unlocked!

Points reduced to… 102

New Purchase: Armored Blazer

Points reduced to… 52

New Purchase: Armored Combat Chinos

Points reduced to… 2

Two boxes appeared between pools of Antithesis blood, stacked on top of one another. The pieces inside were thick and functional, but also rather stylish—the sleek, neo-corpo look that I’d always thought was snazzy, but never had the money to pursue. Clearly, Lynata had read my wishlist. The coat and pants were both also covered in small, discrete pockets, which would give me plenty of room to tuck all of the guns and extra magazines I’d been accumulating.

I glanced at Harry as I started to unbuckle my belt. “Alright, urinal rules: eyes straight ahead, and if I catch you looking, I’m punching you.”

The security guard laughed as he just turned around. A quick change later and I was ready to go, feeling a lot more secure with a bunch of padding all over. The two of us spent a few minutes pushing aside the wall of corpses blocking the door, then reentered the club.

The ad-holograms were still dancing, but the others—the real people—had stopped, and were staring at us with wide eyes. Feeling awkward, I waved, which was answered by a few more waves of hands, paws, and other appendages. One of them, an anime girl in a ruffled dress, approached and mouthed something. Unfortunately, Ember’s Meshspace wasn’t wired for sound, so I just cocked my head in confusion as the avatar continued to silently speak.

One moment. The establishment’s server is public, and all users appear to be connected to the local area network.

“—elieve a Samurai is here to save us! Awesome, dude!”

The anime girl’s voice, now piping through my augs, was a lot older than I expected. It was also a man’s voice. Par for the course in the Mesh, really. “Uh, yeah, right.” I replied. “You’re welcome?”

“Hey man, do you, like, mind if I record this? I wanna post this later!”

“Uh… sure.” I looked around at the rest of the avatars, who were also approaching me. “What’re you all doing here, though? There’s an incursion going on.”

“We’re in the shelter, man.” The avatar waved her (his?) arms in a dramatic flourish. “The internet’s down, so it’s not like we can doomscroll. It was either this or shitty board games.”

Fair enough. I’d definitely spent more than a few days in Ember’s servers, desperately dancing my problems away to music between ads. Too bad dancing couldn’t get rid of my Antithesis problem. Probably. Actually, my dancing was so bad that it’d probably offend even alien sensibilities, so maybe I was onto something there.

My musings were cut short by the loud screech of metal on metal coming from the bar at the front of the nightclub. I didn’t even have time to ask if anyone was back there before the kitchen door behind the bar burst open, revealing a glowering Model Six and a small flood of Model Threes.

“Oh, look, the other shoe.” I sighed, but didn’t hesitate, emptying my Chatter in their general direction while I backed up. A quick search behind me revealed the pistol that Harry had dropped, and I scooped it up while tucking the Chatter away in my new pants.

Maybe it was the armor, maybe it was the remnants of the Vitaphrine still pumping through my system, or maybe it was just the music giving me a boost of confidence—in any case, I wasn’t nearly as scared at the thought of facing down a Six this time around. Or maybe I was already getting desensitized to the whole thing. A worrying thought, but one I’d have to save for later.

The Antithesis barreled out from behind the bar, with the Model Six jumping right over it. The Mesh dancers, to their credit, quickly organized a distraction, which drew away most of the Threes. The Six, unfortunately, was a bit too smart for that. I braced myself against a nearby chair, putting a few rounds into it while it continued its charge towards me.

Harry joined in from the side, but neither of us could hit anything vital in the dark. Even blowing off two of its feet barely slowed the alien’s stampede. It reached me in record time, pouncing as I ducked and rolled around the nearest booth. Its next jump came at me faster than I could react, and its tackle sent me flying over the same booth. My new clothes stiffened under the impact, preventing its claws from goring me, but did nothing to protect my head—I saw stars as the back of my head met the edge of a table, but I stayed conscious.

The Model Six was between me and Harry, now, and the security guard hesitated before turning to engage the approaching Threes instead. Probably for the best—I didn’t need him testing just how bulletproof my new armor was—but it left me facing the larger Antithesis alone. I jumped up and stumbled to the side, barely avoiding another claw, then put a bullet into the Model Six’s head at point-blank range.

The big alien tumbled back as the round exploded in its face, and I used the opportunity to create some distance by moving around another table. The Model Six tried to follow, jumping on top of the table to take a swipe at me, but the synthetic wood snapped under its weight. It fell to the floor, slipping on its own blood. I staggered over before it could regain its footing, putting two more bullets into its head.

The xeno slumped down, but I still vividly remembered my first encounter—Lynata supplied another magazine, and I proceeded to dump the entire thing into its corpse. I smiled as the point notification came up, letting me know for sure that it was dead. All in all, that was a lot smoother than the first time.

Of course, that was when a Model Three chomped down on my ankle.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I let out as the Antithesis dragged me down. Before I could bring my pistol around, however, another one grabbed my arm in its vice-like mouth. Neither of them could bite through my armor, but I still yelled in pain as they tried to wrench my limbs from their sockets.

I looked over at Harry, but he was busy dealing with the rest of the pack, which had abandoned its fruitless game of tag with the holograms. I’d need to deal with this myself. I punched the alien holding my arm, then swore as that did nothing but bruise my hand. I pulled the empty Chatter from my pocket instead and pistol-whipped the xeno, but it just snorted and chomped down further up my arm.

“For fuck’s—Lynata, give me another mag! Between my legs!” A magazine appeared between my thighs, and I squeezed to hold it in place as I attempted to line it up with my gun’s mag well. I rolled with the Antithesis as they jostled me, then raised the Chatter once I’d successfully loaded it. The Model Three gripping my leg got a round between the eyes, followed by the one holding my arm getting a longer burst. It deserved it.

I pulled myself up and quickly aimed across the room, spraying down the pack near Harry. Many of them dropped, either dead or dying, while the mall cop put down most of the rest. He was left playing ring-around-the-rosy with a single Model Three, jumping between a few booths as it snapped after him. It looked like he was out of ammo, so I shuffled closer and waited for my shot. When he next hopped out of the way, I put a short burst into the xeno. After it fell, I followed that with a single round in its skull, just to make sure it was dead.

I took a few moments to catch my breath, then hobbled over to Harry. “Well, that sucked.”

The security guard huffed in response. “Yeah, but it could’ve been worse. Are you alright?”

I rubbed the rising welt on the back of my head. “I think so. This armor shit is nice.” My new clothes had a bunch of gouges across the front, but nothing had actually punctured the fabric. I probably should’ve been a bit more pissed that my snazzy outfit was all torn up so soon after buying it, but the distressed look was actually pretty nice. Even if it was a little too twenty-thirties for my taste. “Anyway, how’re you holding up?”

Harry put a hand to his ear, which looked like it was bleeding a little. “I think you nicked me there, but I’ll take it over getting chewed on. Just be more careful next time.”

I hung my head. “... Yeah, sorry. But at least I got ‘em all.” I inspected the piles of dead Antithesis around us, looking for movement. There was none. “I think we’re done here.”

That was when another Model Six jumped out from behind the bar, and the door at the front of the club burst open.

“Oh, for the love of—”

I was cut off by a deafeningly loud boom. It took me a second to realize that the sound had been a gunshot, and that the silhouette in the front doorway was human. The man strutted in, chuckling as he racked his shotgun. “That’s why I always carry three-inch slugs.” He put the barrel to the head of the Model Six, which was still trying to pick itself up after his first shot. “Yippee-ki-yay, mother—” The rest of his sentence was covered by the blast, which spread the xeno’s brains across the floor.

Instead of finding Manny, he’d found us.