A Samurai’s first meeting with another of their ilk will either be a perfectly standard meet and greet after an incursion, or one of them catching the other doing something stupid. Exactly zero in-betweens. And it’s only a matter of time before a Samurai ends up falling into that second scenario.
- Samurai Helios, 2051
The night had only just begun, in a chronological sense at least, and I was already exhausted.
All those Samurai online made it look so easy. Maybe it was because they were sniping Antithesis from several hundred feet away atop their big floating platforms of doom, but being on the ground as a newbie Sam’ and slugging it out with whatever xeno came my way was a much harder, much more stressful experience. Partially because the slugging part was entirely literal in my case, but I doubted it was easier when all you had to fight off a pack of bloodthirsty plant canines was a pistol and some adrenaline.
That first breather I took after initializing was essentially the only one I had been allowed the entire incursion so far. The moment I got up, I ran off to save a group of people from their own swarm of Model Threes and subsequently had to play chaperone to a party that moved slower than bureaucratic. I understand your body had seen better days Catherine, but in the presence of aliens relentlessly trying to turn your insides to outsides I would very much appreciate it if you hurried the fuck up.
Getting to the shelter wasn't much relief, as I immediately was thrown back into the streets for search and rescue. Apparently the incursion had struck downtown particularly nasty, to the point where the PMCs there were having trouble holding ground around the shelter, let alone making it back. It was up to the freshly minted Samurai to try and pick up the slack, and the requests were coming faster than I could clear them, stressing both me and my significantly after-market augs.
“We believe there to be a hive forming a few blocks west of here, Max.” The moment I got back from my latest raid and practically collapsed in the nearest offered bench, that was dropped onto my lap by the PMC commander currently holding the fort. Middle-aged, sporting a military buzzcut and a bullet-piercing gaze from the eyes of his clean-shaven, aged face. The lower half of his uniform was caked in dirt, and his hand had hovered around a black holster from the moment I first met him. “Its exact size and severity are currently undetermined, but the warehouse we theorize it’s occupying is commonly used for storing perishable foods and supplements. Taking care of it is a high-priority lest we risk it spiralling out of control.”
I let out a sigh, a very tired, very done-with-this-day sigh, and managed to ratchet myself up and onto my feet. “Ugh, give me a minute.”
“Max, if you need a few minutes to rest and recuperate we can hold the line. Once again, you are bestowed the rank of Captain upon initializing-”
“‘And therefore I technically outrank you and have no reason to listen to what you are saying’,” I replied, trying my best to lazily mimic his hardened cadence but not really caring enough to do a good job. “Yes, you’ve said this several times now and I still think it's bullshit. You’re the one with actual experience fighting these things for more than a few hours, and I’m just some nut job who likes to hit things.”
My arms rose in a stretch, and I groaned out a small sigh of relief. “Besides, it’s as you said: high-priority. Might as well deal with it now before it becomes a problem I can’t handle.”
The commander glanced over to what I had left on the seat: a pair of long handled melee weapons solid black in color, one a blunt mace and the other a sharp, double-edged sword. “Will you be taking your equipment with you?”
I glanced back at the weapons, then shook my head. “Nah. Give them to your mercs or something. Just a failed experiment.”
“With all due respect, I won’t force my soldiers to use something that could blow up in their faces.”
“No, they’re basically normal melee weapons sans the lightness and hyper-sharp edges and stuff. It’s a failed experiment ‘cause I’ve learned that style of weapon don’t really gel with me.” I slid on my pair of bumblebee yellow metal gauntlets, each one pumping like a shotgun once flush on my wrists. “Good old Left and Right have turned out to be my bread and butter.”
Just as I was about to cross the hastily made barricade, a different thought hit me and I turned back for a second. “By the way, since I’ve forgotten the last few times I swung by. If some blob of lard in a dumbass purple hat called Don asks for me in there, tell him that I’m done with his gig and that the next time I see him I’m putting a hole in his face.”
Not particularly interested in waiting for a response, I dashed off down the street as fast as I could muster. A Model Three slipped out through a convenience store door–must’ve initially slipped in through the back–and I slid a fly-by punch its way before it fully locked on. The moment the hit connected my arm was briefly blown back and the entire middle of the Three’s torso was shredded apart by a close range flurry of buckshot, so severe that the dog actually collapsed into two separate pieces. It struggled for a moment, but quickly bled out.
Defeated: Model Three x1 - 10 points
Point Total: 338
I didn’t let the attack slow my momentum, and rounded the corner of the street towards the supposed hive. Only once out of sight did my body finally protest, limbs gorwing heavy and lungs alight from the ordeals of the day so far. I felt like I was about to collapse into a pile of fleshy sludge. “Cal, I need some sort of pick-me-up.”
Purchased: Fight or Flight Performance Booster (Dragonfruit Guava) - 10 Points
Point Total: 328
An obnoxiously red metal drink can fell into my hand, decorated with all sorts of dragon iconography and cheesy taglines. “You really leaned on the dragon part of dragonfruit, didn’t you?”
I was feeling particularly inspired in the three picoseconds it took to design.
That earned a snort from me. I popped the tab of the can and threw it back, letting the contents slip down my throat. Fire immediately coursed through my veins and the entire world seemed to come back into focus. All the persistent fatigue that had been building up melted away, and I was left feeling like I had just awoken from a really good night’s sleep.
To be frank, I was briefly stunned. “Christ, this stuff’s potent.”
Before you get to the thought: no, it won’t give you a heart attack if you finish the can.
Damn, I was going to say something like that next. Was I really that predictable? Probably.
I hopped on the balls of my feet, briefly enjoying the new pep in my step. “Show me the way, AI boss man.”
Not your boss, and I can’t directly show you the way. Your augs…are at least somewhat functional, but putting too much strain on them will cause them to overheat, I strongly recommend replacing them sooner, rather than later.
I shrugged; for right now they were enough. “At a later time with a better cushion of points. Lead the way, vocally if you need to.”
Skulking down the streets with Cal’s instructions was stressful work. I had to be on guard for any Antithesis that decided to make itself known, and a few did. Mostly Model Threes, but a few Model Fours and even a Model Five also joined in. That last one was a nightmare especially; it's hard to punch it where there weren’t razor sharp quills while also dodging said quills.
Most of the evacuation had been completed at this point, so the streets themselves were distressingly quiet. The powers of panic and the intervention of Antithesis left the blocks ravaged, all manner of storefront and personal items having been destroyed or deserted in the chaos. The power of the damaged was spotty, several screens and signs shattered beyond repair, and a few transformers and power lines letting off occasional flickers of life before erupting into a blast of dangerous sparks and become inert once more, serving as a brief firework in a city that was gradually falling victim to the night in the wake of the incursion. The skies had apparently proven to be as safe as the ground, as there were several flaming amalgamations of metal, the mangled remains of various hover vehicles. Worse were the corpses, human and Antithesis alike, left scattered across the road and sidewalk. I had seen far too many bodies today, but my blood still went icy every time I saw the form of a failed survivor, blood having long since leaked out onto the street and corpses ghastly pale and withered.
I really didn’t want to get used to this.
My journey concluded as I reached the suspected warehouse, nestled at the edge of an industrial district. Technically there were several warehouses all circling around, but it was clear where they theorized a hive growing by the giant stalk of green piercing through the roof of the largest building, as well as the ring of Antithesis circling around it religiously. A chain link fence would have stood in my way of entering the area, but it had long since been torn down by the invaders. Good, in that let me get in faster. Bad, in that it let the Antithesis get out faster.
I covertly slid over to a wall near the toppled fence, then dared to take a peek around the corner to get a better view. Model Threes, a least a dozen, and a few Model Fours seemed to be the lineup. Perhaps a Model Six nearby, with how they were specifically circling the hive. The Model Six could get dicey, but it was the sheer quantity that would overwhelm me. I needed a way to create a bottleneck.
“Cal,” I whispered. “I need something that can wall off an area and can be set up quick. Preferably strong enough to handle several minutes of abuse.”
I would recommend the Puff-Foam Throwable Wall, from the Class I Area Denial Catalog. It’s a portable brick that will expand in air once thrown and bond with the surface below on impact. It’s strength is far lower than a dedicated barricade and can’t be moved once bonded, but if you are trying to create a chokepoint, which I suspect you are, then they will serve sufficiently. Unlocking the catalog will cost one hundred points, and each throwable would be five points in tandem.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
That took out more of my points than I wanted, but if that was Cal’s recommendation then I would rather just go with it. “Give me two.”
Unlocked - Class I Area Denial Catalog - 100 points
Purchase - Puff-Foam Throwable Wall x 2 - 10 points
Point Total: 218
A small plastic box appeared on the ground in front of me. “Cal, didn’t I say no boxes going forward?”
Considering how quickly they can react and bond to the dusty pavement, I deemed it a necessary evil in this case. Unless you do in fact want it to pop up right where you are, but I doubt that was your intention.
Touche. I opened the box and pulled out the yellow, spongy bricks, putting one in each hand. “Let’s dance.”
I jumped out from behind the wall and did my best to chuck the bricks out towards the sides of the buildings my path forward was sandwiched between. Perspective got funky for a second watching the two bricks expand in the air, but they hit the ground with a thump and started to leak some sort of residue. One of the Model Threes, who had now very much locked onto my presence and was beginning its approach, adjusted a hair too late and smacked right into the side of one of the walls, shifting it over slightly but still leaving a nice bottleneck I could exploit.
That did, of course, leave the pack of dogs in a dead sprint forward towards my fleshy self through the gap I had left, but that was something I could deal with. The limited space to get through left the aliens far more susceptible to the gauntlets’ pellet scatter, meaning I could consistently shred a few of the Threes each time. The Model Fours that came through in between were a bit tricky to deal with, but I had since realized that landing the punch was optional to the spreading of buckshot, so I instead shadow boxed a punch and watched as the tentacled nasties fell victim to the shotgun strapped to my arm.
No, the real challenge was the Model Six, the car-sized oaf rumbling forward in a full on gallop and scraping the sides of the temp walls off along the way. I knew straight up that my current gauntlets would not be enough to dent the thing, so I had figured out how to get a little creative with the guys.
“Directed sticky, please.”
Purchased: Mk I All-Surface Directed Explosive - 10 points
Point Total: 208
A thick disc like a hockey puck fell into my grip while I sprinted right towards the Six. Right as it was about to tackle me head first I dropped into a slide, slipping right between its legs and tossing up the bomb right to under its neck. As soon as the slide got completely behind it, I shot a finger gun back towards the Antithesis. “Boom.”
A loud pop, and the Model Six’s head was blasted off the body and swirling into the air, slapping onto the ground with a wet, heavy thunk. The rest of the torso carried on for a moment due to momentum, but fumbled over itself and collapsed onto the dirt. Everything was dead, and the air was now silent.
Defeated: Model Three x 15 -150 Points
Defeated: Model Four x 4 - 60 Points
Defeated: Model Six x 1 - 30 Points
Point Total: 448
I rose from the ground, dusted myself off, and rolled my shoulder. “Cal, the YXLs are great, but I think they’re reaching a limit here. I’m gonna need some new gauntlets.”
Luckily for you, I have been perusing the options and I believe there is one that would be a perfect fit for you. Going in a slightly different direction than the YXL Spray Ammo Gauntlet, we have the-
“SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!”
One of the doors of the side warehouse was blasted open in a big boom and a puff of smoke, and a Model Three blasted out with it. A second later, a crossbow bolt hit it and the entire monster froze up and blossomed into a pale white color, reminding me of bone.
Out from the smoke walked a girl, about the same height as me. Despite the heat her entire torso was covered in a thick leather aviator’s jacket with puffy trim, and her lower half were a slick pair of denim jeans and work boots. In her gloved hands was a pair of crossbows, one having a bolt cocked and oozing a sort of weird grey fluid from the tip. Her ginger hair was cut almost military short, and despite her soft features her face was contorted into a hard expression, eyes hidden behind a set of shades.
“I’m here to kick ass and chew bubblegum,” she said, mimicking a deeper, gravelly voice that spoke of power. “And I’m all outta-”
As soon as she laid eyes on me, her entire posture slumped and that entire demeanor crumbled, shrivelling up like a raisin.
“Did…did you see that?” Her voice was a lot squeakier now, that confidence before entirely gone.
“Uhh…yeah.” I was…still mostly pretty confused.
Immediately she dropped into an embarrassed squat and put her hands up over her face, unintentionally pushing her shades up into her hair. “Just kill me now.”
I shrugged. The entire display was actually pretty cool, with the smoke and action and all that, but I wasn't sure how much my input would help her out. “So, you a Sam’ too?”
“Oh, yeah. I'm Morgan, Samurai name pending. Only initialized a few hours ago, after all.” She scratched the back of her head, then widened her eyes as what I said fully clicked. “Wait, are you a Samurai?”
I nodded, bringing up my arm to show the metal currently blanketing it. “Yeah, though in the same boat as you, getting the chip earlier tonight. You can call me Max for now, I guess.”
“Heard of anyone else initializing?”
“Not as far as I know.”
Morgan bit her lip. “Well, shit. I was able to get into contact with a member of the Family in Phoenix, and apparently the incursion started south of Targ. A majority of Antithesis forces bumrushed towards the megacity. It's technically only the dregs we've been dealing with, but…don't expect support anytime soon. They’re hands are pretty fully with the main force from what I understand.”
“So two girls have to protect an entire town until the big boys get here.” I let out a small groan; I could feel the twinge of that exhaustion creeping back in. “No pressure.”
Morgan's body language visibly tensed. Must have been worried about the circumstances, I figured, so I put my hand on her shoulder to hopefully reassure her. “Hey, don't worry. We'll get through it.”
She avoided eye contact. “Y-yeah…”
Something pulled my attention, sitting just barely inside of my peripheral vision and only barely coming into view from behind the makeshift cover. It was green and fuzzy, maybe some sort of decorative shrub. Then why was it moving? Wait, no. It wasn’t fuzzy, it was spiky.
Model Five.
“Watch out!” I tackled Morgan to the ground and out of the flurry of projectiles that were launched our way. A pair of quills sailed just by my head, embedding themselves in the concrete walls of the nearby warehouse exterior. Another penetrated the foam wall and was stopped just barely, the tip sticking out several inches from the other side.
Something hit flesh, and I felt a horrible, sharp pain in my left arm. As soon as I hit dirt, I stifled a hurting yelp and scrambled my other hand over to the source. Fingers found grip around the long, thin stock of the needle, and the tips became wet with blood.
“Fuck!” Morgan spat out the cursed word with adrenaline fueled intensity, then bolted up with crossbows in hand. Her focus was sharp, immediately locking onto the perpetrator from behind cover and sending bolts its way when the chance was given. I couldn’t see the result, as I was currently seething in agony on the ground, but sounds of each bolt hitting flesh far away proved promising.
Morgan slid back to me, quickly inspecting the wound and descending into self-centered ramblings. Sans the self-centered part; she was talking to her AI. “Aytos, what do I need to do? Push it through? Got it. Yes, please buy that stuff.”
A bunch of different items clattered to the ground, but Morgan was more focused on the needle. “Max, this is going to hurt.”
“I can take it-” I couldn’t actually take it, considering the tormented groan that escaped my mouth as the needle began to move. Removing hurt worse than the original hit; the latter was at least fast, but now I felt every barb grated against my exposed flesh for every inch Morgan pushed through.
The moment the needle cleared my arm and dropped to the ground was a brief sweet release, but one more distressingly replaced by the blood trickling out of the wound like some macabre fountain. Morgan grabbed for one of the items, a long tube full of white paste, and forced the paste into the hole. Instant relief washed over me, and when I finally turned my eyes wandered back to the hole I saw it was now just an off-white dot made of some sort of plastic.
“Better than stitches, that's for sure.” Moving the arm felt just as good as before, aside from the weird sensation of something being in.
“Here, you should take this too.” Morgan handed me a small injector. “Mini Hemo-Restore to make up for the blood you lost. Good blood flow is important for fighting up close.
I gave a sarcastic grin while raising a gauntlet. “Fighting up close? What gave it away?”
“Um…no offense, but you should probably get some more protective clothing. Maybe some armor or something.”
“Y'know, people keep saying that.” I punched the injector into my shoulder, and it let loose the fluid with a hiss. “Cal, what are my options for something not too bulky?”
I would point you towards the Class I Combat Garments Catalog, and specifically its Mk I Hyperweave Undershirt and Leggings. Your movements won't be inhibited or encumbered while in use, and the fabric itself will be resistant to physical trauma caused by lower end single digit Models. Unlocking the catalog is twenty points, while the set of two is another twenty; ten and ten respectively.
“Could it stop a Five's needle?”
Not entirely, but their needles are also explicitly designed to travel through most fabric protective gear. I would recommend some proper plated armor, but you would be hesitant to purchase it.
I…didn't disagree with his assessment. “Buy it.”
Unlocked: Class I Basic Combat Garments - 20 points
Purchased: Mk I Hyperweave Undershirt - 10 points
Purchased: Mk I Hyperweave Leggings - 10 points
Point Total: 408
The two pieces of clothing fell into my hands. Solid black, both of them. I had taken off my gauntlets briefly to change, and I could feel how deceptively light and smooth the fabric was between my fingers. No matter how much I stretched each one, the clothing showed no signs of weakening.
“Nice. Morgan, keep watch. Gonna throw this stuff on real fast.” I didn’t wait for a reply, and instead lifted up my shirt and dropped my shirts, leaving me in just a sports bra and boxers.
“Right here?” Quite a bit of surprise came from that reply. Taking a glance back, I could see plain as day that Morgan’s face was beet red.
“What, do you want me to find a bathroom or something? Don’t think the Antithesis are gonna give me the chance to search around or something.” I turned back towards the clothes, shimmying into the undershirt. “Plus, I don’t see the harm. We’re both girls here.”
A reply tried to come out of Morgan’s throat, but it died in development and only managed to exit as a whimper. I gave a look back in, tilting my head at the noise. Morgan just feigned a nervous smile. “It’s nothing.”
Shorts slid back on and shirt was covering everything again, giving the clothes a brief dusting with my hands. My hands went back into the gauntlets, and cracked my knuckles. “Alright, let’s bust a hive.”
always been my intention for Kevin to be transmasc. I've always wanted to try my hand at writing a trans character, as it seemed like an interesting challenge for someone who is less familiar with this subject (as a cis guy whose not just white but Welsh). In fact, my earliest drafts of this fiction starred Kevin, or at least some draft of him, as the actual protagonist. Of course, stories change, as eventually Max took the leading role with Kevin sliding into the supporting cast.
And if you think this story is woke or something for having a trans character in its cast, then uhhhh sure I guess it is. If that's a problem then there are plenty of other fish in the sea, and stories can cater to more than just one person.
