Chapter Seven - We’re Going to Need a Bigger Gun

“The answer? Buy a gun. If that don’t work, buy more gun.”

—tagline of “Dallas Arms and Defense Contracting”

***

Antithesis don’t howl, yet it felt like I was surrounded by the baying of wolves as the Model Threes took off after me. My mad dash had gained me some distance before they finally saw me, but it was going to be close. I reached the escalators and hopped up the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping as one of my blood-soaked socks was sucked into the teeth of the machine. I pulled myself out of its grip and reached the top of the escalator just as the xenos made it to the bottom. Two of them scaled the “up” side of the escalator like I had, while the third split off and bounded up the opposite side.

It was a funnel: only a single one of the Model Threes could go up at a time, with limited room for them to maneuver or dodge. Exactly why I’d decided to make my stand here. I cursed the third Antithesis as I started to fire down the stairway, hoping that the “down” section of moving stairs would slow it long enough for me to deal with the first two.

The Model Threes on my side didn’t last long. The closest one only took two shots to the face before it fell, tripping up the one behind it in its rush to get at me. The random flailing of the second alien caused me to miss my next few shots, taking the remainder of my magazine before I finally nailed it twice in the chest.

I hurriedly grabbed a new magazine from my pocket and fumbled to insert it into the pistol. Before I could complete the action, I was suddenly bowled over by a powerful blow from the side. The last Model Three had made it up the escalator and decided to tackle me. However, I was getting used to that particular maneuver—I put one hand under me as I fell, dipping my head and turning before the Antithesis could latch on. When I hit the ground, I twisted and put my feet under the xeno’s stomach, then kicked out. The Model Three was sent flying, crashing into a product-laden end table.

Unfortunately, my gun had also been knocked away from me during the impact. It was midway between me and the Model Three, but I didn’t even have time to think about getting it before the wolf-like alien picked itself up and rushed me again. Its three-hinged jaw opened wide as it tried to take a chunk out of my leg, but it narrowly missed the limb as I threw myself away from it.

“Shit, shit!” I shouted as the Antithesis made another attempt, biting down on the end of my remaining sock. Luckily, my sock had slid halfway off at some point, so the Model Three’s teeth met empty fabric instead of tearing my foot off. “Lynata, gun!”

Would you prefer any specific model—

“Don’t care, same one!” I shouted in near disbelief. I was fighting for my life and she wanted to know my preference. “Gun!”

Class I Kinetic Handguns unlocked!

Points reduced to… 40

New Purchase: Guardian Carry 2.0

Points reduced to… 36

I hardly noticed the script in the corner of my vision as I pushed myself away from the slavering Model Three. My hand fell on something blocky, angular, and roughly shaped to my grip, so I grabbed it and brought it in front of me. As I’d figured, Lynata had teleported the new weapon directly into the path of my grasp, not even bothering with a crappy box this time. As I squeezed the trigger, I prayed that she’d also had the foresight to give it to me preloaded and with one in the chamber.

To the horror of gun safety experts everywhere, she had. The gun barked and jerked in my hand, putting a small hole in the Model Three’s muzzle that turned into a big hole on the other side. The initial spray of acid-green blood was soon joined by several more as I put a few extra rounds into the beast. It unceremoniously flopped to the ground, extremely dead.

I held my position on the ground for a few more seconds, keeping the pistol trained on the dead Model Three as if it were about to jump back up at any second. A few wild glances around me revealed no more Antithesis in the store. I then patted myself down, making sure I wasn’t wounded. My hands came away sticky with blood, but that was just what I was covered with—there was none of the burning pain I was starting to associate with penetrating trauma, nor the sharp jabs of broken bones. Hell, my muscles weren’t even sore, thanks to the remnants of the Nano-Regenerative. I’d gotten away scot-free.

“Haha!” I jumped to my feet and pumped my fist. I’d just killed three of the bastards and didn’t suffer a single scratch in return. I was getting better, and I could start buying cool shit with all of the points I’d made. “Yeah, suck it!” I shouted, pointing down at the trio of dead aliens. “I wi—”

My vision went black around the edges as my legs gave out. I barely avoided smacking face-first into the floor by grabbing the railing between the escalator stairways. My hearing receded almost completely, replaced by the sound of roaring blood, and even Harry’s voice sounded thin as he yelped in concern.

“Kid! Are you alright?!”

The world started to shift back into focus as I lowered myself into a sitting position and took a deep breath, but Lynata beat me to the punch by answering first.

“Benjamin, you are suffering from orthostatic hypotension. While minor, it is indicative of your critically low blood-oxygen levels. Any further injuries have a high chance of sending you into hypovolemic shock. Now would be the proper time to treat your blood loss.”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” I managed to pant out. “What do I need?”

“As I have mentioned previously, a Hemo-Restore injectable should suffice. It will take several hours to fully restore your blood levels, but its effects should persist long enough to sustain against any further blood loss scenarios. It will cost you five points.”

“Sounds good.”

New Purchase: Hemo-Restore

Points reduced to… 41

A box appeared by my lap. I popped open the lid to reveal a red vial with a plastic cap on one end, along with a yellow arrow pointing at the cap.

“Press it agains—”

Lynata didn’t get to finish her sentence before I was already attempting to pull off the cap. However, instead of coming off, the cap suddenly stuck to the palm of my hand, and I could see the red liquid inside the vial start to drain out of it. Startled, I pulled the vial away, which came off with a small amount of resistance and pain. I stared at the area it’d been stuck to, which now had what looked like three groups of hair-thin wires hanging out of my skin. Only half of the red liquid was left in the vial.

“The stopper is intended to be pressed against your skin, through which it will inject a series of biodegradable tubes that will find the nearest blood vessel and introduce the erythropoiesis-stimulating agent. It is not intended to be removed until the entirety of the agent has been introduced, otherwise the dosage will be incomplete and the tubes will not detach, as you see here.”

Lynata sounded annoyed. Which I supposed was fair. I hadn’t bothered to listen to her, instead immediately forging ahead while thinking that I already knew what I needed to do. “Sorry, I should’ve listened. Can I just put it back on?”

“No, the stopper is one use only. While you can purchase another stopper for one point, the ampules are meant to be assembled in a sterile environment; detaching the stopper will introduce harmful microorganisms and other particulates into the agent, none of which you would desire in your bloodstream. To preempt your next question: while you could leave it as-is, the dosage given is insufficient for your level of blood loss. You will need to purchase another Hemo-Restore.”

I winced. This was an expensive lesson. “Alright, I’ll buy another one. Please.”

New Purchase: Hemo-Restore (with instruction booklet)

Points reduced to… 36

Another plastic box appeared next to the first. True to the pop-up, this one had an instruction booklet attached to the inner side of the lid. It showed a hyperrealistic image of my own arm with the vial being attached to the one part not covered by blood. I could only be so annoyed with Lynata’s cheek in including the booklet, even if it felt like she was beating a dead horse. Regardless, I followed her instructions this time.

I was starting to feel better already. I checked the injection site after it finished, and there were no wires this time; only three small dimples, not even bloody. I chucked the vial, then stood up and retrieved the pistol I’d dropped earlier (after scraping away the tubes still in my hand). Before I could continue, however, a new problem presented itself.

I stared down at the green blood liberally coating the gun and my hands, which had just started to tingle. “Uh, this stuff isn’t poisonous, is it?”

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“The blood of most Antithesis models is mildly toxic. However—”

I didn’t let Lynata finish before I started rapidly brushing my hands onto my pants, then grabbed a swimsuit from a nearby rack to finish wiping them off.

“However, it would take very significant exposure to harm you beyond mild nerve damage. There are a variety of augmentations you can purchase to eliminate this threat, should it ever become a true problem.”

“I’m covered in this shit! How is that not ‘significant exposure’?”

“You have not orally consumed any, nor, surprisingly, has any of it entered your wounds. Surface-level exposure is relatively minor.”

“Yeah, fuck that shit.” I responded. I stripped out of my gore-covered shirt, then started unbuttoning my pants to wipe the blood off my legs. Fighting nearly nude wasn’t ideal, but fuck it—it was the 2050s. If the alternative was getting poisoned, I’d cope. Besides, Men’s Wear was right downstairs; any reservations I’d had about “stealing” had disappeared, since I was now considering anything I took as “Samurai requisitions” for making sure their store wasn’t demolished by aliens.

“Well damn, if I’d known we were gonna get this kinda show, I woulda printed off some ten-credit chips!”

I froze. The voice coming over my aug-gear was new, with a vaguely Southern accent, and unquestionably female.

“Margaret, stop that!” Harry spoke up. “Hey, kid, I got someone else in on our little group chat, but she didn’t believe me when I said we had a Samurai, so I decided to share your view with her. I, uh… clearly missed what you were doing for the past few minutes. Sorry about that. I’ll shut it off.”

“Ah, Harry, you ain’t no fun!” Our new “friend” responded. “Woohoo, take it off! Take it—” Margaret’s voice was then suddenly cut off, mercifully kicked from the call before I could die of mortification.

“Yeeeaaahhh, sorry about her.” Harry responded to my budding question. “Margaret’s always been a little odd. Friendly, mind you, but maybe a little too friendly, sometimes. Actually, it likely helps in her line of work.”

“And what line of work is that?” I ground out, making my way downstairs. I know I just said it was the 2050s, but that was before I was made very uncomfortable by the crazy lady on the other end of the call. Not that I minded the appreciation, but she sounded old enough to be my mother.

Harry broke my embarrassed train of thought. “She’s the sales rep for Dallas Arms at ground zero. Not totally one of us, but her job still consists of enough “security” that she has access to our server.”

That made sense. Billings wasn’t big enough to have the sheer wealth disparity of the megacities, but groundcar-level on this side of the city was still firmly considered “the bad part of town”. The Shopplex avoided most of that by dint of the level of security on the lower floors, but there was definitely a difference in the clientele between the first few floors—what we called “ground zero”— and my own section of the mall. To work for a gun store down there… Yeah, “crazy” was practically a job requirement.

“Wait a second,” I realized, “isn’t that on the first floor? Does she need help?”

Harry laughed. “Not likely. Her place is locked down tighter than this room, not to mention full of all the guns and ammunition she could want. When I asked, all she said was, ‘I’d like to see them try.’”

I waffled on that as I picked out a pair of jeans from a nearby rack. On the one hand, Harry was probably right. On the other hand, there was a reason it needed to be locked down like that: incursions always spread through the ground floor of a city first, where the bigger models could fit more easily. Between that and the looters… If anyone needed rescuing before the incursion grew, it was her. Not to mention that if we did help her, I’d get access to a bunch of fun weapons that I wouldn’t need to buy.

“Benjamin, a Model Six has entered the store. You may wish to arm yourself with something more powerful.”

I swore, putting my moral quandaries aside as I scrutinized the wireframe silhouette that’d just come in through the front door. This was a lot bigger than even the Model Four, standing at nearly my height. It had a long body, six legs, and a square-ish looking head, but there was nothing else I could tell through the wall. I didn’t recognize the model number, either. I was about to ask Lynata what it was, when a warbling whistle unexpectedly rang clear throughout the Macy’s.

“The Model Six is a rare example of a command model, with a higher intelligence than basic Antithesis. That noise was an order for all other Antithesis in the area to regroup around it.”

“You can understand it?” Harry asked.

“Commands differ slightly between hives and operate on a basic organic cipher that all models of a specific hive ‘download’ before they are released from their pods. Some civilizations may have trouble decoding such a cipher, but it is hardly an issue for an AI of my caliber.”

“At least you’re humble.” I chimed in dryly. “Now how do I kill it?”

“It would be nearly impossible to successfully kill a Model Six with your current weaponry. They are equipped with multi-layered plates of interlocked proteins over a significant percentage of their body, along with a thicker skin than most lower Models. There exists a multitude of weapons in your Kinetic Handguns catalog that could still damage it, but you possess neither the strength nor augmentations to wield them. Not to mention a lack of points with which to purchase them.”

My eyes were still fixed on the Model Six as I quietly shoved the remaining magazines into the pockets of my new pants. “Is there anything you can give me that could kill it?”

“Yes. My recommended option would be the Defiance Deputy: a newer pistol design chambered in a high-velocity, forty-five caliber cartridge. The standard ammunition still has little chance of penetrating a Model Six’s armor, but you can easily purchase military-grade incendiary and-or high explosive rounds for an additional point per magazine.”

“‘Incendiary and-or high explosive rounds’?” I asked. “As in, both at the same time?”

“Correct.”

“… Oh hell yes.”

Lynata actually chuckled before the notification alerted me to my new purchase and the box appeared at my feet. I quietly checked over the gun, which was a long, heavy thing, coming with a nine-round magazine and one in the chamber. The bullets were bright yellow with red bands around the bottom, which denoted that these were the fun rounds. I thought about asking Lynata for a few more magazines of the stuff, but realized that I was running out of room in my pants; I already needed to leave one of my smaller guns behind just to make room for the new one.

I was about to grab a shirt when the whistling of the Model Six suddenly changed pitch, now sounding surprisingly menacing for something that closely resembled the trilling of an irate canary.

“The Model Six has detected the death pheromones of your kills. It is now commanding any remaining Antithesis in the area to hunt you down. I suggest that you deal with it before it gathers reinforcements.”

It was around that time that Harry decided to chime in again. “I’m not so sure about this, kid; we used to deal with Sixes using vehicle-mounted weapons, or wait for a Samurai to kill it. I don’t think that pea-shooter is going to do much, even with HEI rounds. You should just wait until it leaves.”

The sensible part of me realized that Harry was correct. However, I couldn’t tell precisely how much of that “sensible” part of me was just “old Ben”—the part of me that still declared all this shit insane, and demanded that I crawl into a hole somewhere to wait it out. I couldn’t let that side of me control my life anymore (especially given my new “job”), but I supposed I shouldn’t just ignore it, either. I had to tread the fine line between pushing myself to be more proactive and exercising basic caution.

On the other hand, Harry had just accidentally pushed one of my buttons again, and I’d had enough. “What do you mean, ‘wait for a Samurai’? I am one!” I furiously whispered.

“You know what I mean, kid,” Harry answered, “you don’t have the firepower to deal with this kind of threat right now. You need to hunker down until it passes, then move on.”

“And let it call for backup?” I shot back. “Harry, I’m sick and tired of you treating me like a child. Hell, you even call me ‘kid’! Sorry I’m not some instant badass, but I still just killed a shit-ton of Antithesis! I’ve got an AI—one who’s way smarter than you, me, and every other human on Earth combined— telling me that I can fight this thing, so I don’t need you telling me to sit down and shut up. You’re not my dad!”

“Kid, I know I sent you out there, but I didn’t expect you to try to take on something like this! Sixes are rare this early in an incursion; I thought you’d at least have enough points for grenades or something by now. Trying to kill one with a pistol is insane!”

“Don’t care! Watch me do it anyway.”

“Ben—”

I muted Harry, then stormed towards the Model Six. Yes, I knew I was acting like a child. Yes, I knew that this was almost certainly going to end in some seriously bodily harm. But what the hell, I’d survived everything else so far. Besides, I couldn’t exactly go back with my tail tucked between my legs after blowing up like that.

Still, if I was purposefully committing to being stupid, I might as well make sure I was doing it correctly. “Lynata, I can take this thing, right?” I whispered.

The odds are not in your favor, but there still exists a statistically significant chance that you will prevail.

“Gee, thanks.” I replied. “I thought you were looking out for me, so why didn’t you tell me the same thing Harry said?”

I will always place your well-being as the highest priority. That is also the case here: were you not to engage the Model Six now, it would leave to gather reinforcements. While this could result in a higher number of smaller Models from which you could “farm” points, thus allowing you the opportunity to gain more effective weapons, it is unlikely that you would survive that many Antithesis actively hunting you. I have calculated a much higher chance of success in your current course of action. Although I do regret that my recommendation has resulted in a confrontation with your ally.

I sighed. “No, that was my fault. He just keeps saying stuff that—nevermind, it’s personal stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

You can converse with me about it, if you wish. I am quite a good listener.

I chuckled sardonically. “No offense, but we don’t know each other well enough for that yet. I’ll just apologize to him later. If I survive, that is.”

If it helps, I have faith in your ability to persevere!

“Thanks.”