Slung over my shoulder that I looted. The 10 mm pistol In my hip pocket was useless for now. No ammo. Dead weight.
Annoying, but i still kept It since It was premium grade compared to the garbage tier rifle, I rolled one shoulder, feeling the armor settle, the weight familiar already.
"…nah,"
I said honestly.
"Feels practical."
Genesis stared at me.
"You are one apocalypse away from starting a cult."
I grinned faintly, adjusting the grip on the bladed pipe.
"Hey,"
I said, eyes drifting back to the corpse-strewn street.
"If I do, at least I'll have good merch."
Genesis opened her mouth, clearly loaded and ready to retort but got Interrupted.
"Hey... hey, wait!"
A voice cut in, rough and breathless. I turned just in time to see the bearded, middle-aged veteran jog toward us from down the street, combat boots crunching through brass and bone.
He stopped a few steps away, bent forward with his hands on his knees, chest heaving like he'd sprinted a mile instead of fifty meters. Up close, he looked worse.
Blood streaked down one side of his malnourished face, drying dark in his beard. His field uniform clearly too big for his body, eyes sharp but exhausted in that way only people who've seen too much get. He straightened, swallowed, then met my eyes.
"First of all,"
He said, voice rough but steady.
"Thank you. For saving our asses back there."
I didn't answer. Just watched him.
"I know it's a lot to ask, and you don't owe us anything, but could you..."
My face twisted before he even finished. Like I'd just bitten into something rotten. Fuck no. I'm not a wana be hero. I'm not a Samaritan.
I didn't sign up to escort sob stories and broken dreams across the wasteland for free, the only reason I helped was because of the xp and I almost died In the process.
My brain was already lining up the fuck off words, short, sharp, and unpleasant. Then he finished.
"...escort us to my camp."
The words barely landed before reality itself decided to be dramatic. Reality shifted. A fanfare blasted in my head. Literal trumpets.
Fireworks exploded across my vision in obnoxious, glittering arcs as a translucent blue window slammed into existence like it was being sponsored by bad gacha ads.
NEW MISSION AVAILABLE!
Escort the Survivors
Objective: Safely escort the group to the middle-aged Veteran's camp
Reward: a shitload of XP
A shower of confetti rained down. A chibi mascot, same damn sexy bunny-suit girl from earlier, popped up in the corner, holding a sign that read "DO IT FOR THE XP!" and gave me an exaggerated wink. Then the text wobbled.
SYSTEM
Oh come on. Don't pretend you're thinking about saying no. I know you like the sweet XP, you dirty xp whore. Just look at it.
The XP text pulsed. Once. Twice. Growing slightly larger each time, glowing like it was trying to hypnotize me. My eyes locked onto it instantly. XP.
I felt something deep in my soul sit up straight. The system wasn't done, even though I was basically ready to shout shut up and take my money.
SYSTEM
Minimal effort. Decent risk. Free progress. You'd be brain dead stupid not to accept.
The bunny girl gave a thumbs-up. Fireworks went off again for no fucking reason. My pupils might as well have turned into dollar signs at this point.
"Lead the way,"
I said immediately. No hesitation. No tone change. Same flat expression. Same dead eyes. I reached up, slung the rifle into a low-ready stance, finger indexed along the frame.
Muzzle angled just off centerline. The effect was immediate. The veteran froze mid-breath. So did the survivors behind him, men and women of varying ages, eyes scared.
Bodies filthy and malnourished wearing clothes that were practically rags at this point, they clearly hadn't expected that I would agree so easily.
Genesis let out a sharp scoff as she floated down and plopped herself onto my shoulder, sitting sideways with her legs crossed and arms folded tight.
"You're a fucking hypocrite,"
She muttered.
"And a fucking simp to boot, that skank with the bunny outfit was enough to sway you Instantly"
Yeah, well,
I thought back.
sue me.
The veteran blinked, then shook himself like a man waking from a bad dream.
"R-right,"
He said.
"Yeah. This way."
He turned and started moving, slower now, cautious, like he wasn't entirely sure I wouldn't shoot him in the back for XP efficiency. We followed.
The street gradually thinned out, bodies giving way to debris, debris giving way to nothing but cracked asphalt.
The road stretched ahead like a scar across the land, half buried beneath dirt and rubble where time and neglect had tried and failed to erase it.
Buildings leaned inward on either side, hollowed shells with dark windows that felt like eyes tracking us. Burn marks stained the walls.
Old signage hung crooked, letters missing, slogans meaningless now. The sun dipped lower as we walked, bleeding orange and red across the sky. Shadows stretched long.
The air cooled fast, that sharp post-violence quiet settling in. I stayed alert. Rifle steady. Bladed pipe hanging at my side. Every footstep measured. The survivors kept their distance.
I could feel their eyes on me, on the scars, the armor, the bloody clothes underneath, the way I moved like this was routine. Genesis leaned closer to my ear.
"You know,"
She murmured.
"They're more scared of you than that abomination that you killed."
Good.
I said thought.
I wont have to deal with them trying to talk me up.
The veteran led us down a bend in the road where the asphalt gave way to dirt, old tire tracks fossilized into the ground. He slowed. Then stopped. He raised his fist. Everyone froze.
The wind hissed softly through broken grass. Somewhere in the distance something buzzed and went still. The veteran's voice dropped to a whisper.
"…hold."
Hearing this I lowered myself into a crouch and moved, slow and deliberate, boots barely disturbing the dirt. The rifle slid down on its sling as I crept up beside the veteran and knelt.
He didn't look at me. Just raised two fingers, then pointed.
"One o'clock,"
He whispered.
"Fifteen meters. Mutated mosquitos. Two."
I followed the line of his finger. There they were. Two oversized bloodsuckers, each the size of a lean dog, hunched over a carcass I didn't recognize anymore, some poor mutated animal.
Ribs split open, organs half-liquefied. Their proboscises were buried deep, abdomens swollen and pulsing as they drank rotten blood with an audible, wet slurp.
Their wings twitched, thin, veined, buzzing softly. One wrong move and they'd be airborne. Fast. Mean. A nightmare for anyone without proper armor. The veteran swallowed.
"Those things will drain us dry in seconds if they spot..."
"Yeah,"
I murmured.
"I know."
I slowly let go of my rifle, allowing it to hang from its sling without a sound. My hand drifted to my thigh pocket. Glass. Cool. Familiar. I pulled out a molotov cocktail.
Genesis immediately appeared in my peripheral vision.
"…you better not fucking miss"
She whispered. I ignored her. I turned the bottle over once, twice, letting the cloth wick soak fully in fuel. The smell hit my nose, sharp, chemical, comforting in a fucked-up way. I flicked my lighter.
Click. Flame. I touched it to the rag. Fire bloomed, hungry and bright. I let it burn for a few seconds, long enough to really catch, heat licking my fingers but not enough to bite.
The mosquitos hadn't noticed yet. Good. I rose slowly, rolling my shoulders back, feeling the weight shift through my core. Breath in. Breath out. I brought my arm back, body coiling, and then I threw.
With evrything I had. Shoulder. Torso. Momentum snapping forward. The bottle arced low and fast. It hit the ground just short of the carcass. WHUMP. Glass shattered.
Fire erupted outward in a violent splash, liquid flame washing over the corpse and the two mosquitos alike. They shrieked. High-pitched. Wet. Wrong.
Both creatures leapt back, wings flapping wildly as fire crawled up their bodies. One managed half a second of lift before its wings curled, blackened, and disintegrated.
It dropped like a rock, hit the dirt, and thrashed. The other staggered in a circle, proboscis flailing, abdomen bursting with a pop as pressure and heat did their work.
Within seconds, both were nothing more than burning, twitching sticks. Then stillness. The flames died down, leaving smoking husks and the stench of burnt ichor hanging in the air.
A familiar chime rang out in my head.
You have killed Mutated Mosquito x2 +XP
I exhaled slowly. Behind me, the survivors stared. One of them had both hands clamped over their mouth. The veteran just looked at me, eyes wide, then nodded once.
"…clean,"
He whispered. Genesis crossed her arms, hovering near my shoulder.
"You almost popped youre shoulder with that throw"