Gravity dialed up just to spite me. My vision swam; the hallway stretched and contracted like it was breathing. I dragged myself forward anyway. One meter. That's all that was left.
Just as I was about a meter away from the barricade, a face slid into view through a narrow opening where two planks had been pried apart. Bearded. Scarred. Filthy. The middle aged veteran.
Gray threaded his wild and unkept beard, and a deep scar ran from his temple down across his cheek like someone had tried to carve the war out of him and failed. Our eyes locked.
The man's eyes flicked down. Took in my blood-soaked pants. My useless arm. The pistol barely held in my right hand, i could see his dead fish face change ever so slightly from hope to desperation as he looked back up at my face.
"…shit,"
He muttered under his breath. And quietly, almost respectfully he added, casually dropping a death flag like It was nothing.
"These were just scouts, theyre main force is comin'. Any second now."
Hearing this something inside my skull twitched. My facial muscles started to spasm, muscles jumping without my permission. My jaw clenched so hard my teeth creaked.
I could feel something tightening behind my eyes, like pressure building before a storm. Even Genesis went silent. No snark. No swearing. No frantic diagnostics.
She just stared at the bearded man, hovering motionless at my side, her expression looking like she just swallowed literal shit. I swallowed. Air scraped down my throat like broken glass.
"Son..."
I opened my mouth. Fully intent on unleashing the mother of all curses. And then like always the system decided to butt in.
DING.
DING.
DING.
The sound was cheerful. Obnoxiously cheerful. Like a slot machine hitting jackpot in the middle of a funeral. A translucent interface slammed into my vision, forcibly overriding the world.
MISSION UPDATE
OH MY. THE CRISENTRO HAS FINALLY ARRIVED.
Well, well, well. Look who finally stumbled into the Find Out phase. Let's assess, shall we? Multiple gunshot wounds? Check. Active hemorrhaging? Check.
About to be overrun by mutated nutjobs with basically fried brains? Check. The classical, lets make the wana be hero Idiot fight and die for us? Check
MY, OH MY MATE.
You really do have a talent for bad timing.
PRIMARY OBJECTIVE.
SURVIVE.
(Optional. Apparently.)
AVAILABLE PATHS:
A FINAL STAND
Stay. Fight. Hold the line like a real hero and most likely die.
Predicted Outcome:
Extreme valor which noone gives a fuck about. Memorable last words that noone cares about, except for some extremely bored with too much time on theyre hands deity.
Body perforated beyond medical relevance. Death in approximately 2–3 minutes. Hey at least you get to extend youre worthless existence by that much which all things considered Is pretty good.
Bonus:
Survivors will tell stories about you, nah just kidding theyll forget you even existed In three days give or take, but hey If you somehow survive against all ods youll get a shitload of xp.
Though the grey sisters will be rather pissed, spoiler alert theyre already out to get you for screwing them over even though technically Its not youre fault.
OPTION B: TACTICAL WITHDRAWAL
Theres always option B, well In most cases. Turn around. Run. Flee like the clever little mammal you are, scracth that without that bat shit crazy AI wifu of yourse youre dumb as fuck.
Predicted Outcome:
Blood loss accelerates. Tourniquets fail. Death occurs in approximately, well either youre dead meat one way or another, so no point In explaining.
Bonus:
You die either peacufuly If you decide to end youre misserable existence yourself or In agony, youre choice mate.
Alone, the AI doesnt count, shes basically youre subconciousness, dont ask how It works, even I got no clue. With regrets, a shit load of regrets.
A tiny, chibi version of me popped into existence at the corner of the interface. Chibi-Me stood heroically, legs shaking, firing wildly as dozens of chibi-Fallen dogpile In front of him.
He struck a dramatic pose, gave a thumbs-up and immediately got flattened into a cartoon blood splat. A tiny gravestone popped up. It read "Tried His Best."
Only for another Chibi-Me to appear, turn and start running. I tripped. Slided dramatically on my own blood like a slapstick routine. And gave a weak thumbs-up while face-down on the floor.
A little ghost version of me floated up, holding a sign. At least he tried walking away. The preview looped. Twice. Choose wisely, dear hero. Or don't. We're entertained either way.
The interface pulsed. Waiting. Behind it, the real world rushed back in. The bearded man was still there, staring at me now with something like pity. I finally finished my words.
"…son of a bitch."
The word came out low. Flat. Wrong. My face kept twitching. Then it stopped. Something darker slid into place behind my eyes, like a curtain being drawn.
The pain dulled again, not gone, just pushed aside. My vision sharpened unnaturally, colors deepening, shadows stretching longer than they should.
Genesis slowly turned to look at me.
"…don't,"
She said quietly. I didn't answer. I turned around. That's when I saw it. The rooftop sign, half torn loose, hanging by twisted metal supports, swaying gently in the smoke-choked wind.
Beneath it, a narrow wooden platform stretched out into nothing, a makeshift bridge connecting this side of the third floor to the far structure. It looked rotten. Unstable.
One bad step from turning into a splintered grave. I started limping toward it anyway.
"Fucking system..."
I muttered first, breath ragged.
"and Its dumbass missions…"
Each curse crawled out rougher than the last. Louder. Meaner. My voice scraped my throat raw, dropping lower with every word, like something was dragging it down into darker registers.
And the strangest part? My limp started improving. Not much. Not clean. But the dragging eased. My steps steadied. My left leg still screamed, still burned, but it obeyed now.
Like it had been reminded who was in charge. Genesis kept pace beside me, disbelief written across her face as If she truly couldnt follow my thought process.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
She snapped.
"Do you even know if there's still ammo in that thing?! Youre one step from dying and getting us both killed, you absolute lunatic!"
I didn't answer as I stepped onto the wooden platform. It creaked. Loudly. Boards bowed under my weight, nails shrieking in protest.
Smoke drifted up from below, carrying the coppery stink of blood and burnt fuel. Somewhere behind me, I heard shouting but I Ignored It.
"HEY..."
Genesis yelled, spinning around.
"You psycho would It kill you to just stop and listen to me for once In youre fucking life?!"
I reached the other side and slammed my shoulder into a set of doors barely clinging to their hinges. They burst open with a splintering crack, wood snapping like dry bones.
I stumbled through and found the stairwell leading up. Up. Toward open air. Toward the roof. Each step burned. Each breath tasted like rust.
My left arm was dead weight, slapping uselessly against my side. But I still climbed. One step. Then another. The rooftop doors were already half open, bent outward from some earlier blast.
I kicked them the rest of the way with my good leg and dragged myself into daylight choked with smoke. The roof was a wreck. Debris everywhere. Scorched concrete. Twisted metal.
And there, half embedded in the roof like a dead insect was the crashed VTOL. Its fuselage was split open. One wing torn clean off. Burn marks radiated outward from the impact point.
But mounted at the front, still locked into its bipod welded to the VTOLs floor was the minigun, seeing this Genesis couldnt help but grab and start pulling her hair.
"…fuck, fuck, fuck Im so dead"
She cursed.
"Fuck you, you bloody cunt and fuck, you fucking third rate trash system!"
She howled as I limped toward it. Each step felt inevitable. The gun was massive up close. Six barrels, scorched but intact. Feed system half-buried under debris.
The ammo box was dented, but not ruptured. My right hand closed around the grip. Cold metal. Real. I didn't say a word. I just squeezed. The barrels began to spin.
At first, just a mechanical whine, soft, rising, predatory. The vibration traveled up my arm and straight into my chest, rattling my bones, drowning out everything else.
Genesis stopped cursing and stared at the ammo feed like It was a nuclear bomb.
"…you've got power,"
She breathed like It was her last breath. Right on cue, movement caught my eye. Down below. In the courtyard.
A male Fallen ran into view, standing amid four corpses sprawled like discarded mannequins. He was shouting, ranting, really, arms spread wide, face twisted in religious ecstasy.
"MEAT! KILL! THE MEAT!"
I swung the minigun toward him. The barrels aligned. I pulled the trigger. For one second, the world ended.