Chapter Thirty-Three - Stealth, But For Real This Time

“While it’s true that every Samurai is very much unique, you can still observe some patterns in their collective behaviour.

Notably, their spending habits tend to fall into two broad categories:

Those who purchase new equipment frequently.

And those who find a tried and true style, and keep to it until they need to adapt.”

--Excerpt from ‘On the Habits of Gods,’ 2046

***

Gomorrah parked near ground level, right up against the side of a building and halfway into a traffic lane. Something in her car had all the trucks behind us funnel around to give us some room.

“So, you’ll go up, and I’ll see about clearing an escape route?” Gomorrah asked.

“That’s the whole of it, yeah,” I said. I stepped out of God’s Righteous Fury, then took off my coat. It had a few holes in it; annoying ones that I found way too obvious even when the rest of it was invisible. “Can you stay here for a bit?” I asked.

“I can,” Gomorrah said. “What’s up?”

I flung my coat onto the passenger seat, then stretched a bit. “Need new gear.”

“Do you have the points for it? Also, that jacket had better not be dirty,” she warned.

“It’s probably not,” I said. “And yeah, got... just shy of eight thousand to spend.”

“Christ.”

I leaned down to look into the car. Gomorrah had a hand over the mouth of her mask. “You stub your toe or something?”

“That’s a lot of points. Why haven’t you spent them yet?”

“Catherine,” Myalis said from the car’s speakers. “Is exceptionally frugal for a Vanguard. Foolishly so.”

“That AI would have me burning all of my points as soon as I get them,” I said. “Money and points are for saving. You never know when you’ll need them. Like right now.”

Gomorrah leaned back. “Well, hurry up. And please don’t take off any more clothes than you already have.”

“No cameras on the outside of your ride?” I asked.

“There are plenty. I don’t want to soil them with images of you undressed.” Gomorrah flicked a switch and the door next to me snapped shut with a hiss.

I showed the side of her car my finger, knowing that she could see it in full 8K from where she sat. “Rude,” I said. “So, Myalis, I need gear.”

I’m always ready to accommodate. You’re looking for stealth-specialized equipment?

“And a new jacket,” I said. “I think I’ll give that other one to Lucy? The bullet holes give it a certain look when it’s not invisible.”

Shall I inform Lucy that you want to see less of her?

It took me a second to get it, but when I did I snorted. “Good one. But nah.” I waved Gomorrah off and started for the entrance. “I need a cool coat. That’s like, Samurai 101. But before that, got anything like a disguise... thing?”

How very precise. But yes, I do have many things like a disguise thing.

“Not my fault my language is so great.”

Your language is a festering mess. It’s a miracle I can even understand it. And I’m smarter than most of your species combined. The pitiful nature of humanity aside, I have one suggestion in particular that I think would suit you well. It’s a small module that is worn on a belt. It deploys micro-drones with projection units. They can overlay a full-colour, high-resolution image over a surface, including your body.

“So you can make me look like a potted plant?” I asked.

You certainly have the intelligence of one already. You would fit right in.

“Walked into that,” I muttered as I moved over to the nearest entrance. The building’s first floor was a dilapidated mess. Myalis unlocked the door without having to be asked and I stepped into an abandoned lobby. A glance at the graffiti covered elevator doors and I made my way over to the stairs. I’d ride up once I was a few floors away from the ground and there were less suspicious elevators around.

The projectors can render a fully-realized image atop your body. A projection of details that aren’t real. Essentially, you can look like someone else, as long as that person is reasonably bigger than you are.

My eyebrows rose. “That’s impressive,” I said.

It won’t work on many Antithesis models, so it is somewhat uncommon. Many cameras and scanning devices will see right through the hologram as well.

“Still,” I said. “How much?”

Fifty points.

I nodded. “I’ll take it.”

New Purchase: Hex-Projector Light Drone Camouflage System

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Points Reduced to: 7945

I snapped the box that appeared out of the air and popped it open, revealing what was essentially a large metal device with the holes behind it to clasp onto a belt. It had three slits on each side.

“I’ll need a belt,” I muttered.

I figured as much, yes. You are also likely going to purchase a more stealthy weapon. Perhaps a holster for it?

“Aren’t we going in the wrong order?” I asked. I paused at the next landing to catch my breath. I wasn’t exactly out of shape, but maybe my diet could use a bit of improving. Also, my body could handle being shot less often. Which reminded me... “And I need a cool jacket. Alright, I need a list.”

A list of the things you need? How long ahead are you thinking?

“Just for this mission. I think I can sit down after and find a few things to buy,” I said.

In that case, might I propose the following:

I blinked as a bullet-point list appeared before me.

* Handgun (currently have 1x holsters empty)

* Coat. Possibly Stealth-Tech.

* Ammunition (Trench Maker + Arm launcher)

* Additional protection

* Additional firepower

“That looks like a serial killer’s shopping list,” I said.

These are the few things I suspect I could convince you to purchase before you arrive at your destination. The next landing’s the exit, by the way.

I huffed up another flight of stairs, then pushed through the door there and into a little corridor that opened up to an interior plaza. This building was one of those fancy hollow ones, with patios on the inside.

“Let’s start from the top then,” I said as I started towards an elevator. It was one of those big cage-y ones that you could lose an arm with by sticking it out through the bars. “Why do you think I need a second handgun?”

You have two arms and two slots in your holster.

“That’s a great reason to have more guns,” I said. Wasn’t exactly hard to convince me. “I want something really cool.”

How incredibly vague.

“And not cat-themed.”

That significantly reduces my options.

I chuckled. “Come on, there has to be something else?”

Very well. Perhaps as an alternative to your Trench Maker which can use nearly any sort of ammunition, a more specialized handgun? The Victorious Model Seven. It’s a handgun that fires subsonic osmium rounds through a barrel that is essentially one large suppressor.

“So it fires a big heavy bullet but doesn’t make much noise?” I asked.

Any noise. Also, the gun only fires smart rounds. They have small ailerons that can turn and adjust the trajectory of the round mid-flight in order to curve towards your intended target. Perfect for someone whose aim is as creative as yours. Adjustable rate of fire. Cyclical, single-use twenty round magazines. The only issue is the gun’s weight when fully loaded. Though that does help with its recoil.

“Sounds cool enough,” I said. “How much?”

Eighty points.

That was getting a little expensive. Not crazy-expensive, but on the higher end of things. Then again, it wasn’t even a hundreth of what I had. “Sure, and enough magazines to fill my holster.”

New Purchase: Victorious - Model Seven

Points Reduced to: 7865

I paused and raised both hands just in time for a neat little box to fall into them. Popping the surprisingly hefty box open revealed a sleek handgun. All angular and sharp, with a rectangular barrel and angled grip. The top had a sort of tiny scope, glassy at one end and flat at the other. I held it out before me and a holo-graphic sight appeared above it.

“Nice,” I said.

There wasn’t much to shoot at though, so I stuffed it away into my shoulder holster after making sure the safety was on.

I picked up the next two things to drop before me. Two rather heavy magazines that I handed to the little grabby arms of my holsters even as I walked out into a space with wall-to-wall vending machines and a few dozen street rats mingling around.

They eyed me, I grinned back. They couldn’t see it through the helmet, but I liked to imagine that some of the expression came through.

“I need a jacket,” I said. “A badass one.”

Another wonderfully precise description.

“You’re usually pretty good,” I said. “And no cat themes.”

You’re ruining my fun.

“Deal with it.”

***