"Do you want all of us to die from diarrhea or something?!"
Angel blinked.
"What?"
"Because if he says anything dumber than 'white panties' we are socially dead, no scratch that were literally dead, or did you forget that the owner of those panties Is a fucking self aware AI that hates our guts."
Another alert blared.
SOCIAL CONSEQUENCE PROBABILITY: CRITICAL
A separate department labelled MOUTH CONTROL was sparking. One exhausted intern was trying to duct-tape a lever labelled Speak Thoughts Out Loud.
"It slipped!"
The intern cried.
"Filter wasn't online yet!"
Angel Drac grabbed both sides of the main hormone dial.
"Okay. Okay. We stabilise. Cut stimulus. Reduce blood flow."
The devil smashed a red button.
ENGAGE: POST-NUT CLARITY SIMULATION
Nothing happened. They both stared at it. Angel squinted.
"…we don't have the actual event to trigger that."
Devil hissed.
"Then simulate it! Run the memory of that one awkward incident with that skank three decades ago!"
A projector flickered on. Embarrassing flashback footage began rolling. Hormone gauge dipped slightly.
Testosterone: 78%
"Not enough!"
Angel snapped. Another alarm.
PERCEPTION OVERLAY MAGNIFYING VISUAL DETAIL
A zoomed-in feed of black denim shorts appeared on the screen. Devil dove across the console and slapped the monitor off.
"DO NOT ENHANCE."
Angel screamed into the microphone again.
"BALLS DEPARTMENT, REDUCE OUTPUT IMMEDIATELY."
Left yelled back.
"NEGATIVE. COMMAND. TARGET ACQUIRED."
Right shouted.
"THIGHS HAVE STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY."
Devil grabbed the mic.
"LISTEN TO ME YOU WRINKLED MORONS. IF YOU ENGAGE FULL RESPONSE, WE ARE DONE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? DONE.FUCKING ROALLY BLOODY SCREWED"
Angel flipped another switch. Initiating: Existential Mortality Reminder A slideshow began. Apocalypse. Starvation. Radiation. System unpredictability. Genesis' glare.
Hormone gauge dipped again.
Testosterone: 64%
Devil pointed at the Genesis glare slide.
"Zoom that."
It zoomed. Genesis' unimpressed face filled the screen. A secondary alarm blared.
DOMINANCE LEVEL: HIGH
Devil nodded slowly.
"There it is. Fear response online."
Angel took a deep breath.
"Engage shame protocol."
A giant rubber stamp slammed down in the control room.
STAMPED: BEHAVE
The intern in MOUTH CONTROL duct-taped the lever tighter. Sweat poured down Angel's tiny face.
"Stabilising…"
The blood redistribution gauge wobbled, then slowly levelled. Balls Department feed flickered. Left sighed.
"…standing down."
Right muttered.
"…this is fucking bullshit."
Devil slumped back in his chair.
"Holly molly."
Angel wiped his brow.
"Okay. Crisis contained."
Devil looked at the control panel.
"Who approved that upgrade without installing Hormone Dampening v2?"
Angel glared at him.
"You were cheering during the level up."
He pointed defensively.
"I like XP! I don't like death by horny-induced stupidity!"
A final system notice blinked.
Impulse: Contained.
Speech Filter: Repaired.
Blood Flow: Acceptable.
Survival Probability: Restored.
Angel leaned back in his chair.
...
MC POV
Time resumed. I bolted upright so fast I almost blacked out.
"Wait. No. That wasn't... I mean it was... I didn't mean..."
"You said it out loud,"
She said flatly.
"I was concussed!"
"You were drooling."
"That's unrelated like a horny teenager!"
She straightened, no longer squatting, which unfortunately only made the tank top situation more noticeable. I immediately looked anywhere else. Ceiling. Wall. Floor. My hands.
Scratch scratch. Finally I rubbed the back of my head, forcing my brain into something resembling function.
"…anyway... where the hell are we?"
Genesis pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Where do you think, genius? We're back at your home."
I blinked. Looked around properly this time. Cracked concrete walls. That familiar water stain creeping down the corner. The half-boarded window. The smell of old dust and oil.
My goverment rental place.
"Oh. Right. Nice finally back from the apocalypse"
The relief hit before the embarrassment could regroup. Without another word, I reached for my rifle, unclipped it, and let it fall to the floor with a dull metallic thud. Then the helmet. Clunk.
Plate carrier next. I shrugged it off, letting it hit the ground in a heavy slap of leather and metal plates. The weight leaving my shoulders felt almost obscene. I stood there for a second.
Still. Then I wrinkled my nose.
"…fuck me I stink like a fucking skunk"
Genesis crossed her arms under her chest making her full and firm already sizable chest for her height become even more pronounced.
"Yes. You smell like dried blood, dirt, metal, and regret."
"Yeah, yeah..."
I didn't wait for a response. I was already peeling off the outer layer of my shirt. It stuck slightly where blood had dried into the fabric. The sound of it pulling free from skin was unpleasant.
I tossed it aside. Then the undershirt. It hit the floor with a damp thud. My pants followed. Boots kicked off. Socks with holes discarded somewhere behind me without ceremony. Filthy. Tattered.
Blood-streaked. Dust-caked. Each piece landing on the concrete felt like shedding a layer of another world. Genesis watched, leaning against the doorway now, expression unreadable.
"You going to stand there dramatically or actually wash?"
She asked.
"Don't rush me woman."
She rolled her eyes. I stepped into the bathroom. Calling it a bathroom was generous. The tiles were cracked. The mirror had a jagged fracture running through the center.
The tub was old, enamel chipped and rust bleeding through around the drain. But it worked. I turned the knob. The pipes groaned like they resented being awakened. A sputter. A cough.
Then a stream of lukewarm water poured from the rusted showerhead. I stepped into the tub. The first splash hit my shoulders. Cold. Then warmer. Then tolerable.
"Fuck me Im beat..."
I exhaled as I ran my hands through my hair while the water ran down my face, carrying streaks of dried blood and dirt with it. Brown-red rivulets swirled toward the drain. The grime loosened first.
Dust turned to mud. Mud turned to thin reddish water. It streamed down my chest, over my ribs, down my abdomen. I ran a hand through my hair. More dark water followed.
Layer by layer, the field came off me. The soil. The radiation dust. The dimensional transfer. The smell. Gone. The water turned clearer. As it did, what remained underneath became visible.
My reflection in the cracked mirror shifted from "survivor dragged through hell" to something else. I'd grown. Not dramatically. Not cartoonishly. But subtly.
My shoulders were broader than they had been before. Muscles along my arms more defined. Not bodybuilder bulk but just an extra layer compared to before. My chest had filled out slightly.
I seemed to have grown a centimeter or two, my posture was steadier. The perception upgrade made me notice details I might have ignored before. Fresh scars.
One along my cheek thin and pale, still pink at the edges. Two gunshot scars and one from a cockroach bite. Neat. Clean. Proof. The water slid over them without resistance.
"Nice. My muscles slowly coming back,"
I muttered to myself, flexing experimentally under the running water. The movement felt smoother. Cleaner. Less stiffness in the joints.
"Please. You still look like a fucking plucked chicken."
Genesis' voice drifted in from outside the bathroom.
"Oh shut it, cant you let a guy feel proud of himself even just for a sec without ruining It"
I turned the knobs off. The pipes groaned again in protest before silence returned. Steam clung to the cracked tiles, fogging the fractured mirror until my reflection blurred into something shapeless.
I grabbed the least-offensive towel I owned from the hook behind the door. It smelled faintly of detergent and rust. Good enough. Wrapped it around my waist. Stepped out of the tub.
Cold air hit my damp skin immediately, raising goosebumps. Water dripped from my hair down my neck and along my spine.
The bathroom floor creaked under my weight as I opened the small cabinet above the sink. Empty bottle. Half-used antiseptic. Bent razor. Ah. Toothbrush. I grabbed it.
Squeezed out the last stubborn curl of toothpaste from a crumpled tube. It made a pathetic wheezing sound before surrendering. I shoved the brush into my mouth and started scrubbing.
Mint exploded across my tongue. My gums stung slightly. Copper lingered faintly under the freshness, old blood, probably from the bullying. Genesis walked in without knocking.
She leaned against the cracked tile wall like she owned the place. Black tank top. Black denim shorts. Bare arms folded. Expression unimpressed.
"Already done washing?"
She asked.
"Mmmph,"
I replied around the toothbrush. She squinted at me.
"Tsk, tsk even a chicken has glutes bigger than yourse."
I turned slowly, toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, foam building. Then I raised my middle finger at her. She stared at it. Then at my face. Then back at the finger.
"…are you flipping me off now with a fucking toothbrush in your mouth?"
I tried to smirk. That's when my stomach flipped. Hard. My expression changed instantly. The mint. The emptiness. The radiation. The adrenaline crash. Everything I'd eaten earlier. My eyes widened.
…oh fuck me...
I pivoted mid-gesture and lunged for the toilet. Flipped the lid open just in time. And vomited.