Chapter Five - Dying is For Other People

“Point. Buy.

“Kill some xenos, fill your supply!

“Bam, bam, the counter’s a trap

“Click clack, new gear in you lap

“Rince, repeat, climb so high!”

-- Lyrical extract from ‘Point. Buy.’ Gun and Done’s best selling rap single of 2043

***

At some point, I started to hyperventilate. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to be breathing so hard while bleeding out, but I managed it anyway.

Now now, no need to panic. You’re dying already. Hyperventilating will only worsen your situation.

“What, where are you?” I asked.

My head came up and I looked around. I still had a pole sticking out of my chest, the grotesque sight too much for me at that moment, so I stared around the open museum and tried to make sense of things.

Come now, blood loss is no excuse not to put two and two together.

I let my head fall back. “I’m a samurai?” I asked.

It was silly, dumb. The kind of thing that kids everywhere dreamed of. The sort of thing that didn’t happen to someone like me.

Yes. You are, at least for now. In twenty minutes you will not be one.

“Why?” I asked.

Was the voice actually speaking out loud? I couldn’t tell where it came from. Maybe that was the pain talking, of the rushing noise of blood in my ears.

In approximately six minutes blood loss and trauma will lead you to losing consciousness. The pole cut into your liver and gallbladder and is bleeding quite profusely.

A glance at the blood pooling around the pole said as much. “Yeah?” I asked.

Assuming that no action is taken, two minutes after that you will begin to experience cardiac arrest, then total body failure and eventually death. Well, I say experience, but you won’t be able to feel any of that.

I swallowed. “I’m dying,” I said past the haze of pain.

You are. Now let’s fix that, shall we?

I could worry about hearing voices later. “What do I do?” I asked.

Turn to your side, throw off the weight pinning you down.

I cursed, tears welling up in my eye as I shifted to the side, legs kicking out to try and get some sort of leverage. The alien above me fell to the side, dragging the pole with it.

A scream was torn out of me as the pole, still stuck in my chest, shifted with the motion.

Well done! Though you did make a mess of your internals there. No worries.

I sniffled, feeling like one of the kids that I was meant to be caring for instead of the woman I was. “N-now what?”

You currently have twenty points available to you from killing those two Model Threes, as well as the initial one hundred points freely granted to new Vanguards. Let me suggest a purchase!

My vision swam for a moment before resolving into an image of a sort of thick syringe hovering before me.

This is a WoundStop. A device available to anyone with Class I Medical Utilities unlocked. Unlocking the Class would cost you fifty points. The Woundstopper would cost you five points.

“It hurts,” I whispered.

Please accept the purchase. We don’t want you dying on us.

I could barely string two thoughts together, but I decided to trust the AI, to trust Myalis, anyway. “Okay, please.”

Well done!

Class I Medical Utilities unlocked!

Points reduced to... 70

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

New Purchase: Class I WoundStop

Points reduced to... 65

A box appeared next to me. No fanfare, no lightshow, Just a bloody floor, my red mixing with the alien’s green, then a box. Plastic, shaped roughly like a syringe. It looked cheap, like the kind of off-brand kitchenware they used at the orphanage.

Wonderful! We will need to remove that pole. And by we, I mean you. Careful now, your clock is ticking already.

I placed my hand flat on the ground next to me, leaving a red imprint on the faux-marble, then I pushed myself back. The sensation of metal moving out of my guts reminded me of being poked by a needle, only an order of magnitude worse.

The pole clunked to the ground.

I bent over double and vomited into a growing crimson puddle.

Good. You’ve removed the one thing preventing you from bleeding out... more. You now have a very short amount of time to live and act, so let’s hurry this up, shall we?

My reply was a choked off whimper.

Please open the case and apply the WoundStop to your injury.

My hand shook as I reached for the box. The top came off easily, revealing a tube as big around as a water bottle with a tip like a turkey baster at the end. I took it, thumb easily slotting into the button at the top. “In the wound?” I asked.

Exactly! I’m glad you didn’t need the instructional video. You would die before it ended.

I shoved the WoundStop into the hole with a whimper.

The button sank in. For a moment it felt as if someone was pouring sand into me. I hissed, legs kicking out.

Then the pain faded away.

I breathed in, then out. I was still coming up a little short on air, but the pain was gone, all gone. I tilted my head up and rubbed the blood off of the hole in my shirt. There was now an off-white plug over the place where I’d been stabbed. It felt like rubbery plastic. “What?”

That will keep you going for some time. Your liver is going to need to be replaced. Your gallbladder too, but that’s a little less urgent. Oh, and you lost a lot of your blood. The WoundStop will keep you alive for a while.

“What the fuck,” I said. “What the fuck?” I asked.

You must have questions. I’m afraid they might have to wait. If you don’t accrue more points then you will be unable to purchase new organs.

I stood up, my legs wobbly under me. Next to me was an alien with a foot of metal in its head. A few meters away was another, equally horrid beast, with foam still slowly pouring out of its mouth.

“There were six,” I said. “I... I have to get to the others.” I took a step that turned into a weak stumble. I ended up hanging onto a dividing wall to stay on my feet.

That’s the right attitude! Unfortunately, you are unlikely to be able to do much against even a single additional Model Three.

I took a few quick, short breaths. “I’m a samurai, yeah?” I asked. It sounded stupid to even say it. Worse, I felt like I was talking to myself.

You are indeed, now a samurai.

“Then I should be able to fight them, right?”

Samurai were supposed to be tough, nearly god-like. The entire damned museum celebrated them.

Doubtful. Though the attitude is great. If you do want to fight them, I might have a few suggestions to make.

“I can buy things, right?” I asked. That’s how it worked, everyone knew that.

Indeed. Now, let’s see what kind of weapons you can afford that might allow you to obtain some more points!