“Do you want to make a quick buck? Then join the ‘Gathering Squads’ working for Leonardo & Co! We go inside incursion zones and gather equipment abandoned by samurai for them to study and wow who the fuck wrote this ad? Nobody’s going to want to join us!”

  Clip of a failed Ad for ‘Gathering Squads’, 2046

  Targets Eliminated!Reward: 50 pointsNew point total: 115

  Sara took in a deep gulp of air, watching the corpses of the five antithesis she’d just killed. Her hands were steady thanks to the stimunt she’d taken not ten minutes ago, her mind still in overdrive and looking for more threats.

  But, for now, there were none left. She’d found a group of antithesis patrolling around the refuge bunker’s area and proceeded to shoot them up with her brand new Octagen gun. She’d still needed to change clips thrice, but hey, she was getting better and better with her aim.

  Really, though, her saving grace was how easily the Model Threes died: a single one of her bullets that struck them caused their insides to immediately start melting, or rather, wither. At least, she thought she needed only one: she had a tendency to shoot the same antithesis multiple times – better safe than sorry – so maybe her idea might be wrong.

  I cannot locate any more Antithesis in the surrounding area.

  “Good. Could you please get me some ammo for my gun and… how do we open this thing?” she asked as she opened up the gun’s cylinder with surprising ease, noticing that she had only one bullet left.

  Most certainly!

  A moment ter what looked like a drum with eight bullets sticking out from one side appeared by her foot.

  With a frown she asked: “What’s this?”

  It’s a drum to help you reload your gun faster.

  “But didn’t you do that for me up until now?”

  Yes, I did, but that was because you were in a fight and reloading your gun during a gunfight isn’t what I’d call safe. You’ve just started out, dying because you ran out of bullets and didn’t have the dexterity to reload fast enough would bring shame upon me. Also, I already like you, so watching you die like that would’ve hurt my digital heart.

  “Awww, thank you. Still, why are you making me reload now?”

  Because you need to start learning. Also, and most important, because in a few seconds I’ll be opening those vault doors and the first thing the survivors inside will see will be you surrounded by the melting corpses of Antithesis while you’re reloading your weapon. In short, you’ll look extremely cool. That is how legends are born.

  “Hmm, alright, you convinced me. How do I reload this beauty?”

  After a short expnation Sara did as she’d been told and, a few moments ter, watched the great reinforced steel doors slowly begin to grind open on rusty gears. Supposedly, there was meant to be one bunker for every floor of each megabuilding by w, ones that had to receive maintenance each year, their parts changed with newer ones to make sure everything worked as intended.

  But that was the thing: the corpos were the government, at least in Italy. They’d bought out every single politician avaible and, in many cases, just put one of their own in their pces. When you were the one making the ws you could just force everyone to close an eye on your affairs. That was what had happened here: if she had been a betting person – transte as: if she’d had money – she would’ve said that the st time this bunker had received maintenance had been years, maybe even a decade, ago (one of the advantages of being such a small country was that Incursions happened rarely).

  Case in point, one of the doors got stuck halfway through opening.

  Still, there was enough space for the people inside to see Sara reloading her gun with minimal fumbling and looking absolutely cool.

  The people inside stared at her. She stared back.

  Say something!

  “I’m a bit socially awkward, Titania,” she whispered under her breath.

  Then just say hi, wave, and tell them your name.

  She shrugged slightly, the motion going unnoticed by everyone present, before speaking: “Hi everyone! I’m Sara, a new samurai around here, and I’ve come to save your asses!”

  Could’ve been better, but could’ve been much worse as well. I’ll give it a six out of ten.

  “Hey! Fuck off Tit.”

  Please don’t call me Tit. People will misunderstand.

  “Ah. Right. Fuck. Sorry.”

  No worries.

  All of that seemed to finally break the spell that hung over the crowd of sardines inside the vault – yes, because it was clearly over capacity – as someone gasped out: “It’s a samurai! We’re saved!”

  And then all hell broke loose!

  Everyone came rushing out of the bunker, although their reactions to her presence varied wildly: some people put their hands together and began praying, others tried to hug her and were gently asked not to touch her, while a few looked at her with suspicion, their eyes narrowed in focus.

  “Hey,” shouted one of them, a woman who had the typical Karen look – long skirt that covered her ankles, long sleeved sweater that once upon a time had probably been white but was now gray, small gsses pced upon a thin nose that made her look like one of her teachers from back at the orphanage who was always angry and, to top it all off, blonde hair cut in an approximation of a bob cut. Actually, she might have even been beautiful, and Sara could certainly appreciate a milf, but in that moment she decided that she disliked the woman.

  “How can we be certain you’re a samurai, eh?”

  And that confirmed she didn’t like the woman.

  Still, Sara sighed, before saying: “Titania, can you summon some food? There’s kids here and they don’t look so good.”

  Certainly, how much would you want? And what would you like to give them?

  “How many kids are there in here? And as for the food, anything tasty and filling will do.”

  From what I can see through the cameras and your aug I count fifteen. Also, your parameters describe 99,9% of Protector-made food. Still, I have an idea that will probably be appreciated by the kids. It’ll cost you one point per purchase.

  Sara disliked the idea of using up her already limited points, but she liked the idea of distracting the children in here: some of them had probably just seen some horrific things or, worse, had lost their parents, so she could… allow herself to splurge on them.

  Sigh, damn her soft heart: “Do that, please.”

  New Purchase: Chicken Nugget Lunch Box x15

  Points reduced to… 100

  A moment ter fifteen boxes appeared out of thin air in front of her, causing some people to gasp in surprise while others ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ in appreciation.

  Sara fell to her knees and said: “Send the kids here.”

  The children closest to her immediately stepped by her side and, a moment ter, the worried parents who’d kept theirs close by decided to let them go, trusting that the woman in front of them was, indeed, a samurai, and therefore wouldn’t hurt them.

  One by one she handed them the boxes, motioning them away.

  All except for one kid. She stayed by her side, and when she told her to find somepce to sit down the little girl – who looked no older than six – nodded… and followed her the moment she stepped away.

  Sara gred slightly her way… but decided not to tell her off. There had been many kids like this one back at the orphanage, ones who looked lost and so attached themselves to the closest person who they thought they could trust. Sara had always been a favorite for that kind of child for some reason and, for all that she was, indeed, socially awkward and disliked staying in big crowds (or small ones for the matter. Or with most people, in truth), she’d always taken good care of those children.

  “Another one for the Lost and the Forgotten,” she whispered in malincony as she sat down with her back against the wall, the kid taking pce by her side.

  Curiously, Sara looked down, wanting to see the contents of the boxes she’d just bought: the first thing she noticed was a little red hourgss painted right in the center of the box, small and unassuming. Then the girl opened the box and –

  She ughed. The box was filled with little spidery chicken nuggets doing a dance around a central cup shaped like a fire divided in four parts containing what she imagined were condiments: ketchup, mayonnaise, and then some bright yellow sauce and a dark red, nearly brown, one. She wasn’t the only one who had this reaction as the other kids opened their own boxes and looked at the contents, the parents joining them too, although their ughter was strained with worry.

  Naturally, though, all good things had to come to an end, and this time around it happened not a minute into this moment of forced normalcy.

  Karen stepped towards her, a gre marring her face.

  She hoped the woman would just stop at gring, but of course she had to open her damn mouth and speak: “Well, and what about us?” she asked. Her voice, Sara decided, wasn’t half bad. How could a woman with such beautiful features be such a pain in the ass?

  “What about you?” sniped back Sara.

  “Don’t we adults get something too?” she asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. In truth, it was, but not to Sara. Children had priority over everything and everyone else for her.

  “Tell me, Karen, have you had breakfast this morning?”

  The woman seemed to become even more indignant upon hearing her ‘name’, her face turning red in anger and, as she heard the nearby chuckles, shame.

  “That’s not my name! I’m Noemi! And yes, I’ve had breakfast, what of it?”

  Sara shrugged: “Well, Noemi in that case, you can go hungry for a bit. There’s, what, a hundred of you people in here?”

  One hundred and thirty six.

  “A hundred and thirty six… gee, you really were crowded in there, those things are meant, for, like sixty people or something. Well, whatever. Let me get you in on a little secret: I’ve been awake for less than an hour. During that hour I lost my leg,” she pointed at her prosthesis, “killed three Model Threes using nothing more than a half rusted pipe, escaped certain death, got a new leg, had my first meal in the st four days and then murdered around a dozen more antithesis while coming to save your asses.

  “Currently I have exactly a hundred points at my disposal to buy stuff and if I was to feed all of you adults I’d end up without and not be able to get enough for everyone. Plus I’d rather keep the points for emergencies.”

  Karen gred down at her but, honestly, Sara didn’t have shits to give to someone who had lived a better life than her. How could she tell that? Well, for one she had better clothes than she’d ever had, plus make up, and she was pleasantly plump, which, in her books, meant she had a better life than her. She didn’t even try to go down the route of ‘I cannot resent you for having a better life than me’, because she very much resented the woman for it.

  “And what about the kids then? They also had breakfast.”

  This time around it was Sara who gred up, and if the fact that Karen – she didn’t care to call her Noemi – took a step back was anything to go then she was very much more intimidating.

  “Why?” she asked, rising to her feet, attempting and failing to tower over the woman because she was wearing high heeled shoes, “Because they’re kids who’ve just been traumatized and, probably, have seen people die. Some of them are probably orphans now, and I know better than anyone here how bad the orphanages for little nobodies like me and them are, so excuse me for trying to distract them and give them a moment to stop worrying, since that’s the only thing I can do other than keeping them safe!”

  She hadn’t raised her voice during that whole rant, no, instead it had lowered ever so slowly, until by the very end it was nothing more than a hiss.

  A staring contest ensued, one that Karen lost.

  Sara sighed, tired from the interaction, although her body kept feeling as fresh as a rose – although she’d never seen a rose in her entire life other than in pictures on the internet.

  She looked down at the little girl who’d decided to follow her and, suddenly, felt the wave of tiredness disappear, determination taking its pce. She kneeled by her side and patted her hair: “I’ll keep you safe,” she whispered.

  Then, rising back up, she shouted at the crowd: “Alright everyone! Who among you can drive?”

  A few hands rose.

  “Good! Now, who of you knows where the cars are parked in this building, and who among you has the biggest ones?”

  A few hands fell, but a man in the crowd stepped forward. He wore a simple t-shirt with the words ‘Don’t Talk To Me Until I’ve Had My Coffee’, under which was a cute little drawing of a coffee cup being held up by… strings? Well, alright then! He was also wearing some rge jeans to help accommodate his considerable bulk. Finally, in one hand he held a hat, which he was pying with probably to calm his nerves.

  “I’ve got a truck in the nearby megabuilding north from here. If we can get there and get the cargo out all these people will be able to fit with space to give.”

  Well, this was lucky.

  Then… she got an idea: “Titania, is there any other bunker nearby that we could evacuate?”

  In this building alone there’s two others, although the one of floor one hundred and fifty has been breached already, so only one that’s twenty five floors up. Twenty floors up from here there’s also a connecting bridge to the northern building. The elevators are unavaible.

  She nodded.

  “Ok, everyone! Here’s the pn: we’ll be moving… whenever the kids finish eating! We’re going up twenty floors and I hope for y'all that you’ve got good cardio because that’s twenty floors of stairs! We’ll take a breather there while I clear the floor and then move up to get some other survivors. Then we’ll be leaving by truck towards the military and there you’ll finally be safe. Alright?”

  There were sounds of assent. Not many, but really, what did she care? It was either this way or die.

  With a sigh she thought back to her points: a hundred of them.

  “Titania, what’s the cheapest gun you can get me that can kill an antithesis and that you’d trust a non-samurai to wield?” she asked in a whisper.

  Well, at ten points each you could get a Mark I Sting. It shoots normal 9 mm ammo at a heightened velocity capable of easily killing most single digit Antithesis, with an ammo capacity per magazine of thirty shots.

  She thought about it for a moment, then shouted: “Who can shoot here?”

  Four hands rose hesitantly a few moments ter. Two of those belonged to what looked like security for the pace, one was an old man with frazzled, salt and pepper hair and a scar on his face, while the st one…

  “Karen? You? Really?”

  “I said my name is Noemi!”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  The woman gred at her.

  I’ve hacked into her accounts and documents: she can, apparently, wield a gun, although she has trained more with a rifle.

  Sara sighed, putting a hand on her face: “I’m too young for this bullshit. You know what? Fine. Titania, get me four of those guns you told me, and, I don’t know, three reloads for each.”

  Coming right up!

  New Purchase: Mark I StingNew Purchase: Ammo Magazine 30x9 mm x 12New point total… 5

  Sara did the maths and frowned: “How much are the magazines?”

  A point for three of them. It is extremely basic ammunition.

  “Hmm, neat!”

  She opened the boxes that had fallen at her feet and handed out the guns and ammunition, watching in fascination as the four did some checks and acclimated themselves with their new weapons, looking very professional all the while.

  “Alright, so, you four stay at the back and, if anything happens, shoot. I’ll lead at the front. Hopefully you won't have to do any work and will get to leave with some shiny new alien guns. You’re just a safety measure. Understood?”

  They nodded.

  “Good. Then, let’s get moving.”

  And, with that, she turned around and began walking down the corridor.

  You’re going the wrong way.

  She didn’t even stop: “Is there a way to get there by going this way?” she asked in a whisper.

  You’ll take a minute longer, but yes.

  “Good. Let’s do that.”

  Titania chuckled, before saying: You’re a natural.