Chapter Twenty-Four - Dumb and Dumber

“One through ten are deadly but manageable. Some aren’t even that bad. The body eating worms are a pain to kill, but they’ll just sit there and let you wail at them, and the surveillance birds, the ones that look like god damn pigeons? They make for good target practice.

Some though? God, they’re nightmares made flesh.”

--Extract from Memoirs of a Front Line Man, by Stephan Clancy

***

I started running at about the same time as I heard the first call of ‘shit shit’ coming from somewhere out ahead.

Stealth took a backseat to speed, and I fought to stay on my feet as my still-squelching shoes tried to find purchase on the sleek floor.

I came around the corner to find a scene out of a horror movie.

A pair of Model Threes were clawing at a makeshift wall made of a few desks stacked atop each other with a couple of office chairs jammed in the cracks. Behind them, standing on six bulky legs, was a lumpy monster whose upper body was entirely covered in tentacles which were whipping forwards and grabbing at the bits and pieces making up the wall.

A handgun appeared in one of the holes in the barrier. I ducked back around the corner just as it opened fire. Seven shots. Eight... nine... then a long pause before someone swore. Three more came right after.

I looked around the corner to see one of the Model Threes bleeding out and the large tentacle thing was slumping to the side. It wasn’t dead though, not yet.

Biting my lip, I brought up my Trench Maker and tried to steady my aim. My first round caught one of the smaller Model Three’s in the side, just a tiny pinprick that soon began to glow from within as the incendiary round went to work.

I don’t know what was packed in the incendiaries I bought, but seeing a Model Three start to writhe and twist as its insides flickered and burned was cathartic as hell. I turned and fired three rounds at the tentacle thing. The first hit its centre of mass, the second it the Model Three that was nearly dead next to it, and the third disappeared somewhere at the far end of the corridor.

Close enough.

Targets Eliminated!
Reward... 35 points!
Current points: 227!

I know that ammunition is rather inexpensive, but your aim could still use some work.

“You’re supposed to hold this with two hands, aren’t you?” I asked.

There are ways to improve your musculature. Or perhaps we can replace that missing eye with a proper targeting system?

“Can you put off trying to sell me things for just an hour?” I asked.

As you wish! The timer is on.

I couldn’t even tell if the AI living in my brain was being sarcastic or not. What was my life turning into?

Stepping out from around the corner, I held my gun low to my side and jogged over to the barricaded door while eyeing the corpses strewn about. “Back off! Back the fuck off you alien scum!”

I stopped moving and stared at the crazed eyes of some idiot waving a gun at me through the hole in the barricade. “Hey, hey, I’m a human!” I shouted right back.

“That’s what an alien would say!”

I blinked. “Are you stupid?” I asked.

“C’mon Jeff,” another voice said, deeper, a whole lot calmer. I saw a hand land on the arm holding the gun and pushing it down. “No alien would call you stupid. That’s a damned human thing to do.”

“Could be one of those sevens!”

I grit my teeth. “Are you Jeff... Matersomething and Storm Thundercrock?” I asked.

The gun came back up. “How do you know my name?”

I rolled my eyes. “Simmons sent me to save your dumb asses.”

A head appeared in the hole and I saw a pair of eyes widen. “You’re the Samurai!”

“And you’re the idiots. Now are you going to talk or are we going to be shooting at each other, cause dick jokes aside, mine’s bigger.” I waved my Trench Maker around and saw the head disappear.

“We’ll move things over so you can come in,” Storm said.

“No no,” I said. “We’re leaving. I’m here to fetch and run, not fetch and sit around for a drink.”

The scraping of stuff being moved stopped. “We’ve got injured,” Storm said. His voice was lower, pitched so that only I could hear. “If you want to leave without them, then go ahead. Wouldn’t blame ya.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Let me see. I might be able to do something. What kind of injuries? Did one of you shoot yourself in the foot? Was it Jeff?”

“We have three girls from the accounting place a few offices over who were caught between one of those dog-aliens and a hard place. One’s pretty rough,” Storm said.

That poked a hole in my levity.

“Shit. Hurry it up,” I said.

The wall of desks shifted aside and left a hole just big enough that I could squeeze through. I wasn’t exactly the most flexible girl, and maybe my face went a little red as I huffed and puffed my way past the barricade, but I made it with all three limbs intact.

Their set-up was a bit rough. Just a pile of furniture against the double-door-sized entrance and some more against the walls. The office beyond was a mess. Papers tossed all over, posters torn up, office crap all over the floor.

I counter six people in the area, office drone sorts, with button-up shirts and confused expressions.

“Over there,” Storm said as he pointed towards the far end where a sign for a pair of washrooms hung from the ceiling. “That’s where we thought they’d be safest.”

“More of them tentacle xenos coming,” Jeff said. He’d gone quiet when I squeezed through, probably embarrassed, but more aliens coming did a lot to wake him up.

“You guys good on ammo and stuff?” I asked.

“Could use better guns, ma’am,” Storm said. “Ours keep jamming on the bullets you gave us.”

I nodded. “Any of them able to shoot?” I asked as I pointed to the office guys.

“Wouldn’t trust them to.”

“Myalis, two of those Foxteeth,” I said.

New Purchase: Foxteeth Model D x 2
Points reduced to... 217

Two boxes appeared by my feet, the same cheap plastic as last time. “Have fun. I’m going to check on the girls. Then we’re leaving.”