The road was plastered pink. Small mimics skittered and tumbled beneath the claws of larger variants, leapers leapt from building to building. Some were still half transformed, bearing the colors of steel, concrete, or lacquered wood. I spotted at least three different variants I hadn’t seen before. How were there so many of them? And why the heck did my illusory double have to pull them over here?

  Jaws slack, eyes wide in disbelief, I turned to Addy, who appeared similarly shocked. We shared a knowing look. This was a bit of a problem.

  “Oh god, we’re all gonna die!” Tanya screamed.

  Addy took off straight towards the horde, katana materializing in her hand. I sent the camera drone after her — she was probably about to do something worth recording — then grabbed Tanya with four hands, picked her up, and legged it in the opposite direction. Fighting mimics was a magical girl thing. So was saving civilians. This was an elegant division of labor.

  It didn’t help with Tanya’s screaming. She was squirming so damn much that I was regretting not having wrapped her up in a snug burrito. My spider instincts were telling me to inject her with some venom to paralyze her. Thank you, spider instincts, but no.

  I vaulted over a car when a sudden gust of wind hit me in the back.

  “Overcharge: Get off Me!” was all I heard before we were pelted with dead mimic bits.

  Tanya managed to elbow me twice. “Oh my god, what is happening, AAAH—”

  “Stop,” I hissed, “stop moving, or I might really drop you.”

  “Please don’t drop me, pleasepleaseplease, I don’t wanna dieeee!”

  God, couldn’t you have given me anyone else to carry, anyone besides HER?

  Carrying Tanya wasn’t more than a two-hand job since she was roughly average height and weight, but she was making it so difficult that I was having a hard time holding her in place with four.

  After finally freeing one of my upper limbs I grabbed my bazooka, looking around for any surprise big threats. There were none, besides the traffic light ahead which was red. That meant I had to stop.

  “Why did you stop!?” Tanya screamed.

  “It’s a red light.” I had no idea what Tanya was so confused about. We were on a road, the light was red, and crossing a red light was illegal. Yep. That’s what the red color means. Such a pretty red color. So bright. So…

  “Oh god it has teeth, shoot it, shoot it, AAAAH!”

  Tanya punted me in the face again. I blinked and instead of the prettiest red light in the world I saw the lantern fish trap, saw the red, tooth-ringed maw growing from the base of the traffic light, and the glob of thick goop dangling down from it. It was inches away from my face.

  I wheeled back, aimed the bazooka, and blasted the bastard into little bits. High explosives. Very effective against mimics.

  That was mildly terrifying. I thought getting some mental stats might’ve given me some resistance to mental effects? I should ask Addy.

  Regardless, with its base blown in half, the mimic snapped in two, red lantern-light smashing onto the asphalt and shattering with the sound of broken glass and a scream. The red light turned into gas, dissipating into the atmosphere.

  [You have slain: 270kg Angler mimic]

  [Congratulations! You have reached level 14]

  [+1 Body, +2 Sense, +2 Mind, +1 Soul, +1 Free Stat Point]

  [Soulcoins: 64->84]

  I only stopped for a moment. The skittering sounds of the mimics Addy hadn’t exploded off of herself were coming closer. The fear of being dragged away by them coupled with the sudden realization that mimics could screw with my mind in an entirely new, horrible way was enough charge [Illusory Double] to near full. A couple leaper spines digging into a trashcan to my left did the rest.

  I cast the spell, an identical Sam plus Tanya emerging from me.

  “Make yourself an easier target.” I ordered. “System, free point into Body.”

  I’d barely said it and already more leaper spines skipped off the asphalt behind me. Crap. Moe was busy reloading my bazooka, and I wasn't going to outrun these mimics since I wasn’t doped up on potions. Without a plan, it was a matter of time until one of them got a lucky shot in.

  Just then a pair of silver serpentine drones appeared above me. One immediately dropped a grenade onto a nearby rooftop, blasting the two leapers on my left into smithereens. The other one began glowing, its speaker crackling as an emotionless machine voice recited a spell I’d never heard of before.

  “F A S T L A N E.”

  The ground was plastered with yellow arrows pointing forward. I stepped on one and almost slipped as it tore my body forward. Suddenly I wasn’t running away encumbered by an entire person, I was flying across the asphalt at twice my normal speed. The fastest human alive can run 27 mph. I wasn’t the fastest, but even then I was moving at near highway speeds.

  Haha, this is insane!

  The boost only lasted for a second or two, after which the magic faded and I slowed down to merely a breakneck pace. I had my six eye setup going, which meant that I could make out how quickly the shapes behind me were gaining on us. There were more speed-arrows available, but to my dismay the mimics weren’t beneath using them as well.

  They reacted to the sudden shift in speed more sluggishly, stumbling and tumbling into each other, but that was enough. One of them cannonballed right through my illusion, who pretended to go down in a tangle of limbs.

  “L A N E S W A P.”

  The arrows in front of the mimics suddenly turned 90 degrees, accelerating them into a brick wall. Tanya yelped in fear.

  “Thanks Miss Dusa!” I yelled, tossing the bazooka onto a patch of grass and swapping it for my Toothpick as I stepped onto the arrow that would propel us to safety.

  I never reached it. A blast of condensed air tore me off of my feet, sending me cartwheeling through the nearest display window. I wasn’t lucky enough to land in another fashion boutique cushioned with cloth, instead shattering the holding cells of a dozen different flavors of jellybeans.

  Sugared and toffeed sweets rained on my head like marbles. Slowly, I opened an eye, peeking to look at Tanya. She was alive and uninjured besides a fat bruise on her face. My back took most of the impact and ow, I could really feel my own bruises forming there.

  “You alright?” I asked, rolling my shoulders to make sure nothing was broken.

  “I-I,” she stuttered. “I dunno.”

  “Well you’ve stopped screaming, so if volume is any indication you’re healthier than before.”

  She looked at the ground, abashed, entirely uncharacteristic for her. Where was her cocky unearned confidence?

  “I’m slowing you down,” Tanya said, her voice betraying anger and guilt. “I-I get that. Fu-uck, I was always so annoyed when Wonder Woman, Superman, or whoever had to save some rando instead of kicking ass, but it’s ten times more embarrassing if I’m the one being saved. So drop me. I-I can handle myself.”

  “I’m not leaving anyone.” Even if I really kinda want to. “Moe, secret weapon.”

  A conical red hat poked out of my backpack. The gnome handed me the largest gun I had the pleasure of buying to date. My launcher didn’t count; that was just a platform for rocket propelled grenades and other ordinance, not technically a gun.

  My new baby set me back 400 soulcoins. It was a hefty single-barrel deathrod, weighing in at a solid 30 pounds and holding six rounds of ungodly 4-gauge mooseshot.

  “Is that a… shotgun?” Tanya asked.

  I racked it once and I could feel more than hear the mechanism work. It took me three arms to wield this thing comfortably, and I did not want to think about how my shoulder was going to feel once I actually shot it, but in exchange it solved my biggest weakness: A lack of immediate punching power in close range engagements.

  “It’s a boomstick. Something German called Spab-4, with a weird squiggly B at the end.” I spied a 1.5kg mimic wobbling past the hole we’d made in the candy store’s front window, sighting it with the shotgun before pulling out my Toothpick and shooting it instead. “Not worth the big lady’s time.”

  Tanya swallowed nervously. “I think I have a new nickname for you. Starts with B too.”

  “Tanya,” I warned.

  “Badass.”

  I scrunched my nose and pointedly looked away, tossing her one of my Toothpicks. “Lock yourself in the bathroom, that seems to have worked before. Imma blap whoever tried to turn us into a pancake in the face.”

  And then I was outside, watching the one drone create a maze of inwards-facing acceleration zones while the other one carpet bombed it with a seemingly endless supply of grenades. An inventory power plus a crowd control ability. Medusahead had what was an entirely safe and incredibly annoying fighting style geared perfectly to support a more combat-oriented frontliner. Someone like Addy. Addy, who was currently stuck blending the majority of the mimics into little itty bits, alone, without drone support.

  Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh? Playing favorites when you’re safe and we’re not?

  She just wants some footage. I’ll get her some footage. It’ll be a nice distraction.

  Another blast tore through the air. It sounded like a muted thwump, like someone hitting a wall with a house-sized pillow. The blast was enough to bury the carpet-bombing drone in a tree canopy.

  Where was that from, where — ahah!

  Eying the rooftops, I spotted it: a blur of oddly wobbly air larger than a huntsman attached to the side of a high-rise construction site. I shot some lasers at it, searing holes in its camouflaged skin and giving me a better look. It was a giant monkey-like figure with four clawed arms and two stubby hind legs. Its mouth was shaped like a colonial-era cannon.

  I gave it a taste of my bazooka. It responded by shooting the fat projectile out of the air, like an archerfish shooting a mosquito. Never mind that air wasn’t supposed to do that unless it was ultra dense, which it couldn't have been or else me and Tanya would have been paste.

  Darn magic.

  I clicked my tongue as the projectile exploded somewhere in the distance. I couldn’t risk collateral damage; I’d have to use something else to deal with this critter..

  After getting into cover behind a wafflehouse and waved at the one remaining drone.

  “Hey Medusahead, it’s me, the newbie! I’ve got an idea to take out that big monkey mimic, but I can’t get closer. Can I get your help for that, pretty please?”

  The drone bobbed once, ducking beneath a building and out of line of fire. “A C K N O W L E D G E D.”

  A series of arrows appeared along the red-bricked fa?ade of an old building, leading up and over. I… she wanted me to use the arrows as solid footholds.

  Is that how it works? Oh god, what if it doesn't? What if she’s trying to make me run into the wall like an absolute idiot?

  No. Trust.

  I licked my lips, got into a crouch start, estimated where my feet needed to fall so I wouldn’t faceplant into a solid wall, and kicked off. I’ll never forget the feeling of accelerating towards a wall at times two speed, then at times four. The moment my foot hit the vertical arrow all my forward speed was turned into enough upward momentum to crest the two-story roof.

  The monkey mimic was waiting for me.

  Shit.

  The blast of air hit me before I could hit the next arrow floating above me, knocking me back with an ungodly amount of force. Any second now I would hit the asphalt, crack my skull, and zip back up into low orbit for an unwelcome chat with Mochi and Abyssl until I respawned.

  Instead, my back hit another arrow. Suddenly I was flying to the side instead of back and down. I impacted another arrow with my face. There were six or seven of them floating about, constantly shifting as I was knocked between them like a pinball. I could feel the bile rising in my throat but hey, at least the mimic missed its next shot.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Ack, crap, poo-sticks!

  One second I was tumbling, the next I was on a collision course with the high-rise.

  “Arms & Arms Proficiency!”

  Two arms shot out as I tore through tarp, catching the scaffolding and sending me twirling three times around one of the bars. Then I slipped, careening off into the open floor while desperately trying not to drop my weapon. I bounced once, twice, my shoulder and knee pads taking the brunt of the force. It was still enough that I felt my joints grind against each other.

  The moment I slowed down just a bit my back tore through another layer of tarp as I was flung straight off the other side of the damn building—

  Nono—

  —but I caught myself, barely, preternaturally proficient arms grabbing onto wood and metal handholds just in time to prevent spider-me from going splat. It took all four of them, which meant that had to cradle my shotgun between my thighs.

  Not a single misfire. What a beautiful weapon.

  The scaffolding creaked ominously. My sign to move.

  I heaved myself over the ledge. Medusahead’s drone was nowhere to be seen, nor was the mimic. With shotgun in three hands and my remaining Toothpick in one, I moved forward, slowly scanning every side of the building for movement. My arms were shaking, my heart was going a million miles a minute, but I felt alive like never before.

  On pure instinct, I turned around. The air shimmered.

  I pulled the trigger.

  When people complain about the recoil of a gun, they usually say that it kicks like a mule. I don’t know how hard a mule kicks, but it was probably not this hard. The recoil hit me like a car crash on the Memorial Highway, my spell telling me that I wasn’t sufficiently braced a second before the shotgun stock blasted me straight off of my feet, bruising my shoulder.

  And that was speaking from the gun’s safe end.

  The worbling space erupted in a fountain of black blood, the entire monkey flickering, skin contracting and changing shapes like a psychedelic nightmare. The monkey honked, its left arm perforated and smashed by pellets twice as heavy as a musket ball. I had expected to take them off entirely. They were as thick as my torso around my waist.

  I slammed into a concrete pillar, knocking the breath out of my lungs momentarily. The mimic's mouth deformed, going from a long fleshy barrel of a cannon to something wider found in medieval bombards.

  Slipping around the pillar was all I could do in between that and the next shot, which was weaker overall, but covered nearly the entire floor.

  Sacrificed range and firepower for area of effect, huh?

  That’s still strong enough to take me off of the building.

  I was on the fourth floor, so I could maybe survive if I landed on a nearby house. Maybe.

  Better not to test that theory.

  After the next blast missed I turned around the pillar and braced myself better this time.

  My next shot tore into the creature again, hitting off-center. This time one of its four arms spasmed, two fat holes nearly shearing it in two. That one was useless now.

  I racked another shot. Two was all I’d get before the mimic reloaded its air cannon. It only took one hit to take me out of the fight. At this rate, I would need more than one magazine.

  This time I aimed for its big ugly air sac. At this range it was impossible to miss.

  Blam!

  The creature screamed and shook, finally dropping its camouflage. Calling it a mixture of a monkey and a bat was pretty accurate; its hognose face was an upturned, squashed mess, all shoved to the side to make space for its biological air cannon. It was as large as an elephant, and yet I had missed one detail in my first assessment: the inside of the cannon wasn’t smooth, but layered by concentric rings of needle-like teeth, like something straight out of IT.

  That mouth was hopefully useless now that I pumped a few holes into its air sac.

  The mimic, coming to the same conclusion, did something none of the mimics had before: It ran, using its good arms to swing up and around to the fifth floor.

  “Oh no you don't!" I yelled, turning around and gunning it for the naked stairwell.

  A piece of rebar stabbed me in the leg.

  “FUCK!” It was a 3 kilo mimic, lying in wait for the moment my focus was somewhere else. In the brief amount of time I’d been engaged with the big one, smaller ones from all around had probably climbed all the way up here.

  That just meant I didn’t have all day to win.

  I lasered it, then lasered another one that had crept up behind me, before slapping a time bandaid on the wound and soldiering on. Between the tension in my arms, the pain in my shoulders, and my newly acquired awkward gait, I wasn’t doing too swell. Even with a heavy shotgun intended to kill mooses I had a chance of cocking this up. The gun was big, yes, but the monkey-bat mimic was even bigger. Its entire body was all muscle, or whatever mimics had in place of muscle. One shot just wouldn’t do it.

  Unless…

  I fished out my singular ivory soulcoin.

  Maybe it’ll reduce the recoil.

  “System, upgrade!”

  [Rolling attributes]

  My Spab-4 started glowing pink. The barrel changed shape, turning into an upside-down heart-shape that was somewhat more comfortable to grip than before. Cartoony spider stickers grew all along its side, plastering the dark metal with arachnid emojis.

  It’s kind of unfair how my guns get a magical girl transformation before I do.

  Someone out there has to be designing these things; there’s no way the system just improvises this stuff on the fly.

  Then, the glowing stopped.

  [Major positive attribute: Adaptive - Twist barrel left for full auto, but reduced damage and recoil per shot.]

  [Major negative attribute: Magical Knockback - Every shot applies a large amount of force to your entire body in the opposite direction.]

  “MORE recoil!?” Dammit, now I needed a bunch more investment into Body, or maybe just more levels to let everything scale a bit.

  [Congratulations! You have reached level 15]

  [+1 Body, +2 Sense, +2 Mind, +1 Soul, +1 Free Stat Point, +1 Essence Slot]

  … speaking of, that was the XP-share at work. Addy must really be going ham down there on street level.

  Guess it’s time to finish the job up here.

  I put the point into Body, the refreshing feeling fading just as I reached the fifth floor.

  The mimic wasn’t on it.

  I ran up to the sixth floor, which only had two small mimics disguised as bags of ‘cument’ that tried to jump me. The Toothpick picked them apart, and then it was on to the seventh floor. Then the eight. The ninth.

  Floor ten was the last floor with a roof. I reached floor eleven somewhat out of breath when a gust of wind hit me in the face.

  “Did you just try to blast me off?” I asked the mimic incredulously. “How? I destroyed your airsac!”

  It was standing at the ledge about thirty feet away from me, trying and failing to inhale another shot worth of air. Its airbags made a sad whistling noise every time it did. Three 1.5kg mimics had dug in firmly, pressing their bodies into the holes like living bandages. Even then, the seal was incomplete. With those leaks, it couldn’t gather a lethal amount of air before I blasted it to smithereens.

  I noticed more mimics crawling over the lip of the top floor, more nestling themselves in the perforated bellows. Maybe if the little ones kept me at bay for long enough it could heal up.

  I couldn’t let that happen. I twisted the barrel, and let my Spab-4 rip in full-auto mode, showering the behemoth liberally in four-ounce pellets. That did blast some of the patches off, creating new holes, but it was not enough for the kill against this stupid tanky artillery mimic. My Goop Gun would’ve been the ideal tool; alas, it worked slowly, and the last thing I wanted the mimic to shoot back into my face was a fistful of acid.

  In response, the big mimic grabbed a handful of small ones and threw them at me.

  Shit.

  They hit me like pitched baseballs, one bouncing off of my shin, another hitting my aching shoulder painfully. A third one managed to grab onto my other shoulder, skittering up my head and face before I could blast it, but that was already enough time.

  The big mimic was all patched up. And it looked furious.

  It began sucking in air again.

  There was nowhere to dodge up here, not unless I wanted to jump off. Briefly I thought about ducking into the stairwell, but I could hear the mimics skittering up from inside it.

  Only one way forward then.

  I ran towards the mimic, dropping shells as I failed to reload all but one from my magazine.

  Smaller mimics crested the sides of the highrise, nipping at my heels. I ignored them, a yellow arrow appearing under my feet just in time to blast me towards my quarry.

  I cranked the barrel, jumped, and landed on the creature’s shoulders. It tried to blast me off, but from this close up it wasn’t about who had the bigger gun; it was about who could get it pointed at the enemy first.

  My shotgun met its forehead in the same moment that its cannon met my stomach.

  I couldn’t say who shot first. If it ever had brains, well, now it didn’t. But whatever breakfast I had, it wasn’t inside my body anymore either.

  [You have killed: 3 ton Coral Blastshifter.]

  [Soulcoins: 102->172]

  [Congratulations! You have reached level 16]

  [Congratulations! You have reached level 17]

  [+2 Body, +4 Sense, +4 Mind, +2 Soul, +2 Free Stat Points]

  The recoil coupled with the extra magical knockback plus a blast of compressed air to the stomach did wonders for my ability to fly. And with wonders, I mean that in one moment I was knocked out, in the next I was trailing vomit, falling down from what felt like very, very high up.

  A streak of Medusahead’s acceleration arrows were strewn across my likely path of flight in one large curve, bleeding speed. Any sharper and I’d probably have my brain liquified by the g-forces. Smart girl. If only she wasn’t such an ass.

  It didn’t matter anyways. I was probably out of range of her magic by now, my stomach cramping as I could do nothing but watch the ground come closer and closer.

  Ah crap. So this is how I die?

  Maybe Tanya’s right. That was kinda cool. Reckless, but badass.

  Goodbye extra life. Was nice having you while I did. Hope you bring some friends next time. I could really use their help.

  I passed the height of the skyscraper, closed my eyes, and braced myself. There was a crash and the impression of an impact, but it felt off. I was briefly jostled and spun in every direction. When I opened my eyes it was to a hole in someone’s roof, and the feeling of a very fluffy fellow squishing into my back.

  “Addy?” I groaned. My world was spinning.

  “I’m here,” she said. Her voice was a husky growl. Was that admonishment in her voice? Fear? Pride?

  “You… caught me?”

  “I wasn’t going to let you fall.”

  You’re so right, Addy. I was only falling at terminal velocity. That’s only a small inconvenience, barely worth consideration.

  I suppose I should be thankful instead of digging into how you saved me with one friggin arm.

  “Thank youuu…” I turned around, trailing off once I saw who was actually holding me.

  There, clasping me plush against her chest, was Addy, but also not Addy. She was taller for one, still recognizably human except for some exaggerated tanuki features. She was as tall as I was for one. Her tanuki ears pointed sheepishly out of a wild nest of hair. The black markings around her eyes were more pronounced, and her teeth were awfully sharp. Fur ran up and down her legs and arms, both of which were covered in sculpted layers of muscle. She was somewhere between strong weretanuki Addy and nimble magical girl Addy, and the result was amazing.

  I stared, eyes goggling, drooling a bit as I took in her toned form. Like, holy balls, her abs had abs. I had to thank Tanya for the fact that I could see them with her new fit on. Together with her sharp eyes it gave her the look of a feral goddess of all things good and fluffy.

  “... do I look weird?” she asked, because beneath a body that screamed ‘confidence’ there was a small tanuki that screamed ‘insecurity’ louder.

  “I want to grate parmesan on those.”

  “What?”

  “What?”

  We stared at each other for a moment. Addy sighed. She bopped her forehead against mine and pulled me in tighter. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Huh?”

  “The biggest idiot I’ve ever seen.” Her voice was muffled against the back of my scalp. “You see a problem and instead of thinking ‘hey, should I get someone to help me’ you just go in guns blazing.”

  “I thought I could help,” I muttered, coughing and retching. My stomach was cramping something fierce. Lifting my shirt, I was greeted with a head-sized purple bruise. I flexed those muscles instinctively and doubled over from the pain. “Ow. And I — ow — did manage it, almost — ow — on my own. Ow. Shit. Ow ow ow this is worse than period cramps.”

  Her hand, almost crushing me in a hug in one moment, moved down and brushed gently over my bruised belly as she whispered a new spell.

  “We’ll be fine.”

  The bruise faded, shrinking to half its size. In return, a bruise just as large appeared on Addy, marring her perfect abs.

  Addy gave me a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Should’ve told you before. But I got an upgrade.”

  “Addy…” I said, before realizing what her having this spell actually meant. “What level are you?”

  “35.”

  My breath hitched. [I’ll be fine] was from her first essence at lvl 5. She picked a permanent upgrade because she thought it would help me. And I didn’t know for sure if this was a step forward or two steps back.

  “Addy! You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

  “Did too.”

  “No, you did not.”

  Even if that’s a sign you care about me, a sign that you can care about anyone if you try, it’s a decision much more permanent than if you’d let me die.

  And it’s because of me.

  “You’re too reckless,” she grumbled. “You’d fight Godzilla for me if you thought it would help.”

  “Only if he was, like, evil.”

  “He’s a big dumb lizard destroying cities. Of course he’s evil.”

  “Nono, he’s like, a metaphor for the sins of man, and irresponsible use of nuclear power. He fights other giant creatures to protect people. The cities are just in the way.”

  Addy stared at me as if I was an alien.

  “I think we didn’t watch the same Godzilla movies,” she muttered. “The real one’s cooler anyways.”

  “Excuse me, the real WHO!?”

  At that moment, the whirring sound of a drone reached my ears. One of Medusahead’s drones swooped in past broken shingles and smashed roofing.

  “E X C E L L E N T S H O W,” it said in a robotic voice.

  “Well, as long as you enjoyed it, Medusahead.” I snarked. “Got all the footage you need?”

  The snake-drone bobbed once. Its baleful eye projected a set of scenes right into thin air. Setting aside the awesome sort of technology that could make that happen, I focused on each of the scenes depicted here. Addy ripping and tearing through a sea of mimics. Me being pinballed between Medusahead’s arrows.

  “A D E Q U A T E P E R F O R M A N C E,” the drone blooped.

  “I feel like I did pretty well,” I muttered indignantly.

  The drone lowered itself until it was in front of my face. “R E C K L E S S.”

  “I… alright, fine! I guess I was a bit reckless. You happy? Now go, do drone things. I need some time to gather myself.”

  The drones eye squinted. Slowly, it floated up and out of the hole in the roof we’d made.

  “I didn’t know they could squint.”

  “I hate her damn clankers,” Addy mumbled.

  “Oh my god, Addy, you can’t call them that!”

  Suddenly, a notification popped up right in front of my eye.

  [Attention all Custodians and Associates: The time for secrets is at an end. Worldwide incursions and multiple broken-mask events have made this announcement long overdue. Effective immediately, The Society can no longer justify upkeeping an active Glamor on all currently active (89478) Custodians, barring special circumstances. Your representatives among The Society have voted and declared that from today on, we are going public. As a result, any inactive Custodian is called upon immediately to either help shaping public image towards a neutral or positive outlook, or assist in dealing with Convergence events where necessary. We thank you for your patience and apologize for any inconvenience.]

  [Keep on slayin’, boys and girls!]

  That was an awfully human response, for once.

  “Well, that’s a starting shot for the popularity contest if I’ve ever seen one,” I muttered. “Also, is that really our official motto? ‘Keep on slayin’?”

  “It’s ‘Ganbatte’ in Japan,” Addy muttered. Her ears flicked some debris off of her head. Not wanting to sit in dirt and dust was a good enough excuse to get up.

  I followed after her, brushing myself down and offering her some TidyBlank. Her clothes weren’t torn, but there were a few drops of mimic blood on it.

  “Looks like we were ahead of the curve,” I said.

  “Mhm.” Addy didn’t seem happy, or even appeased.

  I clapped my hands. “Alright, so we’ve appeased Medusahead for the time, got some of our own footage, and beat the crap out of a whole load of mimics.”

  “It should be smooth sailing to get to—”

  I put a hand in front of Addy’s mouth. She made a confused sound.

  “Don’t jinx it.”

  Addy grunted and I retrieved my hand. “It should be. We’ve killed so many mimics that it would be a problem if they still had the forces to throw at us like that again.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Means they have a nest somewhere spitting out new mimics.”

  “Oh.” That made sense. The mimics wouldn’t be such troublemakers if they could be easily uprooted and removed. “Does that mean that if we don’t hurry all our fighting will have been for nothing?”

  “They can’t replace the big ones as easily,” Addy said. “They would need a nest with a factory so big it shows up on satellite images.”

  “Mimic factories.” I imagined a fleshy room full of slavering tendrils tipped with rows of teeth, churning out horrors endlessly. That would definitely be a problem for us.

  “Alright. So, we evacuate my neighborhood, and go looking for the nest, or nests, plural. That’s a plan. I feel like we’re forgetting something…” I slapped my cheeks. “I locked my bully in a bathroom!”

  mass or instrument. So while she thinks it's called the Spab-4, it would actually be pronounced Spaas-4, with two a's because in german a single vowel lengthens the vowel unless there are two following consonants... I'm boring you, aren't I?

  The Entire Recipe for my favorite way to make Spaghetti Bolognese. Y'know, in case you need something to pair with all the parmesan Sam will be grating on Addy's abs. Bon appetite.