A Useful Surprise is a piece of information that makes us better at predicting the future. They are:

• Novel - Is it something I’ve never thought of?
• Logical - Do I understand it?
• Possible - Could I try it?
• Desirable - Do I want to try it?

• Overmind Memo 53

 

Thursday - Ty - Stealth Squad

Purple Team is on the move. Strike Squad is flanking the hardware store that Green and Gold are using as a base. Demo Squad is on a collision course with a gun drone army in the food court. Stealth Squad has left their nest in a thoroughly death trapped Walmart, and is giggling their way to certain doom on the roof.

Good times.

Awesome throws out a few more coin drones. They weave their way up to the roof.

“How many of those do you have?”

“Lots.” says Awesome. “They’re cheap, quiet, and hard to shoot. But they can only fly for 10 minutes a charge, so I have to keep tossing more out. As they lose battery, they take up sentinel positions to watch our backtrail.”

“Cool.”

Ultra gives me a feed of the food court. Demo Squad is standing in the open, with no cover. Odd, but Ultra informs me that Tim the Butcher prefers clean sightlines to defensive positions. His squad is weak against sneak attacks.

Flying gun drones come at them first. They’re a little bigger than a standard spy drone, but slower, struggling under the weight of a two shot paintball pistol. There’s hundreds of them, which seems bad, but Demo Squad shoots them down contemptuously. Eat marbles you slow ass death frisbees.

Next are mini tanks with paint grenade launchers. They’re fast and armoured. High speed marbles have no effect on them. High speed baseballs do though. Tim shoots down the odd grenade while the rogues pelt the angry little roombas with fastballs. Ultra estimates that Gold Team has lost 10 grand in this battle, and gained nothing. They’d do well to withdraw, but probably won’t.

Ultra is proved right when an ATV bristling with machine guns blazes into the food court. Demo squad saw it coming and made an orderly retreat up the stairs to the mezzanine. The ATV rages around the food court impotently. It’s guns aren’t designed to point up. Even if they were, I doubt it would help. It’s cameras point up. It can see Tim and the girls laughing at it. It rushes the stairs, and lumbers up them. Tim lazily lofts a bowling ball at it, crushing its main gun turret. Call it 12 grand.

Sleek forms dash through the food court.

“Uh-oh.” says Tim.

Ultra strobes me with raw data. “Dang. Green Team has unleashed dogs with sensor packs.”

Awesome shakes her head. “Fucking Slytherins.”

“Is using animals allowed?” I ask.

“No.” she pauses. “Maybe. There’s no rule against it. I guess we thought no asshole would bring their dog to get shot. Fucking Slytherins.”

The dogs are following Demo Squad's back trail. They will eventually lead Green Team to Awesome. Stealth be damned.

“Should I shoot the dogs?” asks Tim the Butcher.

“No.” states Awesome firmly.

“Want us to circle back?” asks Awful. “Help you hold Walmart?”

Awesome and I look at each other. We’re not in Walmart anymore.

“No. Both squads hit Green base. Shoot them in the balls.”

“Okay.” chirps Awful.

Awesome and I continue to the roof.

“I was expecting you to give out more orders. You’ve barely said anything since the battle started.”

“They know what they’re doing.” Awesome shrugs. “Leadership is mostly listening.”

She tosses out more coin drones. Ultra flashes me scenes from the roof. There’s a big honking drone out there. The flying version of the monster from the food court. I don’t think I can hit it with a bowling ball. Also, I don’t have a bowling ball.

Utra feeds me tactical information on the White Dragon. A gas powered quadcopter, it can stay aloft for the entire battle. Pours down 26 paintballs a second. Flies 120 feet above its targets, a full 40 feet higher than an air powered marble can shoot. Untouchable death.

“Why are we going after this thing? We can avoid it just by staying inside.”

“There aren’t that many malls being torn down. Next game will probably be in a corn field.” Awesome grunts. “I’m tired of being wiped out by this fucking thing. Tonight we end it.”

“Won’t they just rebuild it?”

“White Team is 30 grand deep on their dragon. They’re done if we peg it.”

Ultra flashes me scenes of dogs running through Walmart. Dammit. Awesome refuses to use the paint grenade traps. The dogs aren't wearing eye protection. They quickly map our murder maze, and follow our trail to the stairs. Ultra gives me an extended flash of pics from sentinel coin drones we left in Walmart.

"The strike squads know you're on the roof." reports Ultra. "They've circumvented Walmart, and are guarding all the stairs down from the roof. If we survive the dragon, we’ll have to fight our way back down."

“Fuck. Those dogs feel like cheating. So does the dragon. Have we considered cheating?”

“Funny you should mention that.” Awesome takes the cardboard tube off her back. Shakes out a Winchester rifle. Laughs.

Oh shit.

She passes me a flare gun from her bag. “Shoot the dragon with that. Pyrotechnics are legit in this game. A flare won’t hurt that beast, but you’re about to get lucky.” She cocks the rifle. Points out on the roof. “Go be bait.”

“Okay.” breathes Ultra. “Follow me Tiger.”

Ultra runs out onto the roof. Fuck it, I run after her. She follows a faint golden path that stretches across to the human, shootable, members of White Team. I guess we’re rushing them. I hear the dragon behind and above me. Like a gigantic thunder bee. It’s close.

Ultra speeds up. I do too. My heart is hammering. Ultra leaves glowing footsteps behind her. I lock into her steps, mimic her arm movements, get a bit more speed. The dragon is so loud. Ultra jumps a small wall, does a barrel roll in the air, shoots the flare gun behind her. What the fuck? I commit too late, botch the jump, slam into the wall, land dazed on the wrong side of cover.

The dragon swoops. I stick out the flare gun, aim at the dragon. Ultra’s arm is over mine like double vision. She’s not pointing at the dragon, but in front of it. I adjust my aim to match hers and fire.

fizzzzBANG!!!

The dragon lights up like Techno-Satan’s Christmas Angel. It’s lost a rotor, banks hard, slams the roof, screams, crumples, lights the roof on fire. Damn.

Ultra kips up. Throws a grenade at White Team. I lumber to my feet, fumble for a grenade. Awesome rushes past me, ruthlessly guns down White Team. Okay. I sit down on the little wall. I’m beat.

Awesome walks back to me. “Nice job. That was a pretty good first attempt.”

“Thanks. Nice shooting. You hit the rotor?”

“Yep. $30,000 drone meets $3 rubber bullet.” She adjusts her mask so she can smoke. “Thanks for providing plausible deniability.”

“My pleasure.” I hear sirens. “How are we smuggling out the rifle.”

“I took out the firing pin and tossed it on the dragon fire. It’ll get crushed when they blow the building.”

Right. Forgot about that.

“Well, I guess we better shoot our way back to Walmart.” says Awesome. “This roof is not defendable. Any ideas for dealing with the dogs?”

“I have a sausage in my pocket.”

Awesome shugs. “That’s not nothing. Let’s make it work.”

Our coin drones show the Walmart stairs as clear. Weird. Awful reports. Green Team has been shot in the balls. Gold Team is on the run.

“Stay after them. We’re clear. Apparently.”

We stealth back to our murder maze. There’s paint everywhere. Stinks of fireworks. Huh. I guess shit went down when we were dragon hunting. There were multiple strike squads after us. Did they all kill each other? Where’d our sentinel drones go?

“It’s too quiet.”

A loud driving beat thrums through the store.

“Nevermind.”

Ultra flashes me. The same scene, over and over, from a hundred dizzying angles. A goblin girl with crazy hair, dancing with abandon in a cloud of coin drones. She’s in the centre of our murder maze. The music keeps pumping. I just wanna be the … BEST!

“Uh-oh.” says Ultra. “That’s Mega.”

I just wanna be the … BEST!

“Okay.” I say. “Is this where we run?”

I just wanna be the … BEST!

“Nope.” Awesome flicks her joint. Shakes out her last coin drones. “This is where we shoot a bitch.”

Awesome tears in to the maze. Ultra zooms after her. Fuck. I lumber in too. My best fat old man run.

Awesome and Mega collide in a blast of drones, smoke, fire, and paint. It’s over before I get there. Mega’s gone. Awesome head bowed. Mask shot with paint.

“Dang.” says Ultra. “That’s the game. Unless someone gets Mega.”

“What do I do?” I ask.

“GET HER!” yells Ultra and Awesome.

“Right.” I lumber after Mega. I’m slower, but I’ve inherited a cloud of coin drones. They keep me on track. I gain ground every time she changes direction.

Mega leads me through the thickest fighting in the mall. It’s crazy. I’m mostly ignored. Worth nothing. Even so, it takes all I’ve got to get through. Gold Leader and Mega are the last captains in the game. Mega should be hiding. Instead she’s rushing through traps, drones, and strike teams to kill Gold Leader herself. She leads with eye shattering flash bangs, then runs through full tilt, cracking drones and marking fools. Following her is a masterclass in symbiont assisted mayhem. She’s liquid lightning. She’s grim death.

My chest hurts. I’m breathing too hard. It’s fogged up my mask. My contacts still show me Ultra’s path. Her footsteps, her twists, and targets. I surrender to madness. Blindly bull my way through… I don’t even know. I run, and shoot, and duck, and smash through something. Was that glass? Fuck it. I run.

Flashes from Ultra. Mega has caught Gold Leader. Hollowed him out. I’m right behind her. Burst through. Flash bangs. Ha! Can’t see shit anyway. Fire, fire, fire! Get kicked in the gut, shot in the head, fall to the floor. Ow.

Mega cackles with laughter. Dammit. I know that laugh.

“Hi Daddy.” says Megastorm.

“Hey Darling.” I say. “You’re grounded.”

Storm laughs, helps me up.

“We better go.” says Storm. “The buildings going to blow in 5 minutes.”

“Right.” How do I keep forgetting that? What’s wrong with me?

We shuffle to an exit. Drones pour out around us. Ultra informs me that all players are moving and mostly out. Good. We get to the door, and Storm turns back. I grab her. “What the fuck?”

“One of the dogs won’t leave.” says Storm. “I’m gonna go grab him.”

For fuck’s sake. “I’ll get him.”

“I’m faster than you.”

“I have a sausage in my pocket.”

She giggles. “O-kay.”

“Fuck off.” I swear. “Just get outta here.”

So I’m back in a building that’s about to explode, shaking my sausage. Dammit.

I find the damn dog with 2 minutes to spare. He’s big, ugly, covered in paint. Scared. Fucking Slytherins. I feed him. He licks me. Won’t move. Fuck. I pick him up. Jog to the exit. Jesus fucks. For a few minutes I thought I’d live through this night. Now it’s a dog carrying heart attack for sure. At least the explosion will bury me on the cheap. Hide my shame.

The clock is ticking down. Fuck this dog is heavy. I sprint the last 20 seconds. Burst out into a party of construction workers. I can’t hear shit over the blood pounding in my ears, but they’re howling and cheering. Times up, but the building hasn’t blown. Fuck it, I take a knee. The workers laugh, cheer, pat my back, give me a beer. The dog licks my face.

I catch my breath. Drink. The workers are stoked. A drone with a blue light flies overhead. Aw right, the demolition contractor was streaming the game. These guys are fans. Weird.

An older guy hands me another beer. “Amazing man! What a game! I knew this mall idea was good, but I’m blown away. And you! Guy from nowhere slays the dragon! Then runs the distance with Mega! Then you’re her dad? BOOM! Mind blown! Cheers! Then you go back for the dog?! HAHAHA!!! Did you think we were going to blow the building?”

“You’re not blowing the building?”

“Not with a fucking dog in it. We’re not psychopaths.”

We have another beer, the crowd breaks up, preps the mall for detonation. Dog’s still with me, leaning on my leg. “Any idea where Green Team’s at?”

“They left ages ago. Had to ice their dicks.”

Fuck. One of the workers gives me and Bowser a ride home. I stumble into my apartment. There’s a bowl of water and a bowl of dog food in the kitchen. A full assembly line whirring quietly in the dining room. A humongous man smoking in the darkness of the living room.

“Hey.” I say.

“S’up Tiger.” says the vast shadow. “Remember me?”

“No.”

“I’m Tom Worth. Your roommate. You called me Tommy. We were best friends in kindergarten.” He smokes. “You still eat glue?”

“A little. I’ve definitely cut back.” I peer at him. “Jesus fucking Christ. You really are Tommy Worth. How have you been?”

“I had a rough patch.” He passes the joint. “I’m doing better now.”

I smoke. Weird.