Chapter Thirteen - What Old People Say​

“With the Great Tinder Crash of 2024, the world of online dating suffered terribly, with people suddenly forced to try finding people to date and meet out in meatspace.

Paradoxically, the number of children born in 2025 was twelve percent higher than the previous year.”

--Excerpt from Dating in the Modern World, 2027

***

The Fury lurched as Gomorrah put it in park and shut the car down. “Alright,” I said. “Raccoon, Franny, stay in the car.”

“You need me!” Raccoon said before I’d even reached for the handle.

“And I’m coming too,” Franny said.

I shifted so that I was looking back, which wasn’t easy to do while in power armour. “Alright, Rac first. Why would we need you here?”

Raccoon swallowed, but she was a brave sort, so she tightened her fists and stared me in the eye. Or my helmet’s eyes--close enough. “You don’t know much about the Sewer Dragons. Some of them are assholes, some of them are a bunch of cunts, but some of them are alright. So you need someone to tell you which ones to off.”

I considered it for a moment. “I was just going to walk over there, threaten some people, then murderize my way to victory. It’s really late... early, whatever.”

Gomorrah sighed, the long-suffering sort when a more adult-y person knows a kid’s right and doesn’t want to do something about it. She reached down to the console between the chairs, and pulled open a lid with a hiss of compressed air.

A whitish haze floated out of the compartment she opened, and Gomorrah reached in to pull out a thin can with the words ENERGY DRINK stenciled on the side. “Here, one for each person coming,” she said as she handed me a can, then tossed one to Racoon.

Franny, pointedly, didn’t get one.

“Where’s mine?” she asked.

“We haven’t determined if you’re coming yet,” I said, guessing at Gomorrah’s intentions. Hell, if Franny was Lucy, I wouldn’t bring her into some den of depraved lunatics either.

“So I’m coming?” Raccoon asked over any protests Franny could make.

I slid the energy drink between my legs, glad the armour kept the chill at bay--beyond a vague impression of coolness--and reached up to undo my helmet. “Yeah, you can come. We’ll get you a better mask, though, you’re not equipped for this kind of thing. Actually, maybe we could give her a screen, let her do overwatch?”

“Holy fuck, what happened to your face?” Raccoon asked.

I blinked.

Usually, if people had issues with the scarring on the side of my face, they made it known when I met. Then again, I wasn’t usually wearing a full-face helmet. “Fire shit,” I said.

“Cool! Like from an alien?” she asked.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” I said. “Lost my eye and everything. This one’s a cybernetic one.”

“That’s pog as fuck.”

I stared. “Where’d you pick up ‘pog’?”

“I thought that’s what people your age said,” Raccoon said.

“Well, that’s horrific,” Gomorrah said.

Franny cleared her throat and leaned forwards until she was on the edge of her seat. “Why, exactly, can’t I come?” she asked.

“Because you need to keep Raccoon company,” I said. “Rac, we’ll let you use, uh... there’s a screen somewhere in this car. You can use it to see what’s going on. Gomorrah and I, I at least, will feed you video.”

“Awesome,” Raccoon said.

“I’m not a babysitter,” Franny hissed. “And you can hardly keep me here.”

“We can literally keep you here,” I said.

“Cat,” Gomorrah warned. She turned towards Franny while I popped the tab on my drink and took a sip. It was... really plain. Water with a tiny hint of a fruity after-taste. Then I felt an electric shiver run down my spine, and I blinked my eyes feeling fully awake. “Franny, I’m... I’m not just Delilah.”

“You’ve hardly changed that much,” Franny said. “It’s been what, three months?”

“Yes, Franny, three months. A very long three months, where I became a saint, and where I’ve done a lot. I’m not the same Delilah, dammit.”

“If Sister Clarice heard you now,” Franny said.

“Sister Clarice had to be convinced not to kiss the ground I walk on,” Gomorrah said. “I’m glad, really glad, that you’re not like that. But still, can’t you just... I don’t know, accept that I don’t need... urgh, whatever.”

Gomorrah downed her can in a single pull, let it drop into the freezer, then shoved her way out of the car while slipping her helmet on.

“Myalis, can you...” I gestured between my eyes and the car’s interior. The ceiling and windshield flickered, and were soon replaced with a feed from my cybernetic eye, which of course created a mirroring effect. “Thanks. Raccoon, I think the car has a microphone, we should be able to hear you.”

“Cool, cool,” Raccoon said.

I leaned back, and pointed a finger at Franny. “Stay.”

“I’m not a dog,” she snapped.

“No, you’re Gomorrah’s friend, and she cares about you. Possibly even in a platonic way, which would be impressive if she’s still willing to put up with your bitchiness. So, you stay in the car.”

I slapped my helmet on, then shoved the door open and stepped out. I closed it fast. Neither of the girls within had masks on, and I figured the air out here wasn’t the greatest, though I imagine the Fury had decent filters.

“You okay?” I asked Gomorrah over a private channel. Switching channels on the fly was going to be a pain, I just knew it.

Gomorrah took a deep breath, then moved to the back of her car. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said as she opened the trunk. I blinked at the gun within. It was a lot smaller than her usual flame-thrower. Then she pulled out a backpack and shrugged it on. It was all black, with golden crosses and silver gilding over the sides.

She connected a hose from the pack into the stock of her new gun while a pair of back-mounted flame throwers unfolded.

“Nice new gear,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said. “Come on, we should get this done.”

“We don’t have to, if you’re not up to it,” I said. I was wired as hell though. That energy drink had some kick.

“No, no I want to do it. Franny’s right to want to stop these kidnappings, and if no one’s doing anything about it, then it kind of falls to us to take care of it.”

“Alright.”

Gomorrah started walking ahead of me, and I figured I’d give her a bit to settle before asking her about our plans.

“Franny was supposed to be there,” Gomorrah said. “It was a trip to some lake-side forest thing. With the school. Franny had to stay back. She busted up her hand and broke a few bones, and the sisters kept her away as a sort of punishment.”

“Okay?” I said, I wasn’t sure where she was going with it.

“The incursion was small. Like, really small. And we were on the edges. So we started moving towards a shelter outside of the forest. Then we were hit by some Model Threes. I was next to a canister full of fuel, I had a lighter on me. Next thing I knew, Atyacus was offering to help me.”

“That’s how you became a samurai?” I asked.

She nodded. “It wasn’t exactly glorious. There wasn’t much to do after that. Rallied the others, killed a few more aliens. Not many, mind. I stuck around and tried to help after, but all the Vanguard that showed up knew what they were doing, and I didn’t. Maybe I was a little shell-shocked, I guess. Came home and nothing was the same, you know?”

“I guess. And Franny didn’t care for it?”

“Not at all. She’s been distant. I’ve been distant too. I’m an adult, damn it, I shouldn’t be following another girl around like some... some puppy or something, but Franny meant, means, a lot to me.”

“I’m not actually sure what to say.”

“Nothing, I don’t think,” Gomorrah said. “It’ll work out, or it won’t. I’m mature enough to concede that much.”

“Well, if it was Lucy, and I’d somehow changed in a way she doesn’t understand, I think I’d talk to her about it?”

“I’ve tried,” was her flat response.

“Fair enough. Should have figured you’d give it a try.” I gestured aimlessly ahead. “I guess you can prove to her that you don’t need her anymore, not to keep you safe, but then she might drift off, you know? Think that since you don’t need her, you don’t like her anymore.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Probably doesn’t feel that way to her,” I said. “I’m a bit worried that Lucy will start thinking I don’t need her either, which is stupid. Or maybe now she’s better and I’m not always going to be around, she’ll find someone nicer than me. Someone with more fleshy bits... and probably a nicer ass.”

Was there something I could buy for that? Had to be.

A problem for later.

“I don’t think it’s quite the same. This is entirely platonic,” Gomorrah said.

I nodded along, not believing her one whit. “Yeah, totally. Now, let’s at least get the proving you’re badass part down.”

***