Lady Fortuna was clearly on my side.
By the time I was done, I lined them up on the beat down desk like trophies. Four extra magazines. All full. I slid them into a scavenged belt pouches, adjusting the weight on my hip with a satisfied nod.
"Praise be to all gods living, dead, or fictional,"
I muttered.
"I am armed."
Genesis rolled her eyes so hard I was pretty sure it caused a minor gravitational anomaly.
"You're acting like a child,"
She said.
"A heavily armed, traumatised child."
"Still armed,"
I shot back. I continued scavenging. Medical supplies were a bust, anything that had once been sterile had long since turned into biohazards. Food was nonexistent.
All I could find were two questionable quality tourniquets. Ammo for other weapons, useless. Then I saw it.
Tucked into a metal locker that had somehow avoided being crushed.
The latch was stiff, but it gave with a grunt. Inside. A cigarette pack. Preserved. Wrapped in old plastic. Yellowed, but intact. And beside it. A lighter. I stopped breathing.
I stared at it like it was a holy relic. Like I'd just uncovered the Lost Ark of Bad Decisions.
"... well fuck me sideways,"
I whispered. Genesis noticed immediately.
"Oh absolutely not, you're not putting that shit Into you're body"
I picked them up with reverence as I completely Ignored the AI screaming bloody murder In my mind.
The plastic crinkled as I unwrapped the pack. I opened it slowly. The smell hit me.
Tobacco. Real tobacco. Rich. Earthy. Not synthetic. Not recycled. Not lab-grown.
My hands actually trembled.
"…I ... I might actually cry,"
I said.Genesis pinched the bridge of her nose.
"For fucks sake you are not crying over cigarettes."
I slid one out. White paper. Filter intact. I placed it between my lips like it was ceremony. Like prayer.
I flicked the lighter. It sparked on the first try. The flame danced. Warm. Alive.
I leaned in and inhaled deeply. For half a second. Utter bliss.
Then my lungs violently reminded me that they had not signed up for this.
I doubled over, hacking like I'd just inhaled tear gas.
"COUGH... hack... cough... fuck..."
"Oh my gods,"
Genesis snapped.
"You absolute idiot! Your lungs aren't used to that anymore!"
I waved her off, still coughing, eyes watering, chest burning like hell.
"Worth it,"
I rasped. I took another drag. Slower this time. Careful.
The smoke burned, but in a familiar way. A grounding way.
I exhaled shakily, shoulders relaxing despite everything.
"…How long,"
I muttered, smoke curling upward,
"has it been since I had a proper smoke?"
Genesis stared at me like she was reconsidering every design choice that led to my existence.
"You do know smoking causes cancer,"
She said flatly. I didn't even look at her. I raised my hand and extended my middle finger. She stared at it.
"…charming."
I leaned back against the wall, pistol secure In my right pants pocket, the magazines In my other, cigarette glowing softly between my fingers. Cold bunker. Blood on my leg. Monsters in the dark.
Basically, the usual Tuesday. Finally, I flicked the cigarette away, watching the ember arc once before it hit the damp concrete.
I crushed it under my boot, grinding it out until there was nothing left but a black smear and the faint smell of burned tobacco. I exhaled slowly.
Then I pushed off the wall only to cough my lungs out.
"Alright.... cough... fuck me, yeah Im gonna need to work on my new lungs"
I muttered, rolling my neck once.
"Anyways, back to this shit."
I scanned the room again, slower this time. Corners. Ceiling. Behind the sandbags. Nothing moved. Just bones. Rust. Silence so thick it felt like pressure in my ears. Then I saw it.
A single blast door on the far wall. Thick. Military-grade. Yellow-and-black hazard stripes half-flaked away.
To its right, mounted on a reinforced column, was a big, friendly-looking red button under a cracked plastic cover. I stared at it. I looked at Genesis. She looked at me. I shrugged.
"What?"
I said.
"If I die, I die."
I limped over, pistol in my right hand now, finger indexed along the frame like I actually knew what I was doing, which I was technically.
My leg screamed with every step, but adrenaline kept it dull, distant. I stopped in front of the button, glanced at the door, then slapped my palm down on it. Click. Nothing happened.
I blinked.
"…Oh come on,"
I growled. I hit it again, harder.
"You piece of shit..."
This time, the mechanism answered. Deep inside the walls, something ancient and overworked woke up. Metal groaned. Gears screamed in protest.
Dust sifted down from the ceiling as the blast door began to rise, inch by agonising inch.
"... that's more like It"
I muttered. The opening was just high enough for a crouch when it stopped. No alarms. No lights. Just darkness beyond and the sound of something wet shifting. I didn't rush.
I slid my pistol into both hands, bringing it up into a low-ready stance, elbows tucked in tight against my ribs.
I pressed my shoulder to the doorframe, flattened myself against the cold metal, then leaned out just enough to peek. The beam from my flickering overhead light caught movement.
Five of them. Different sizes. One fat and bloated, carapace slick with moisture. Two medium ones skittering across the floor.
One thin, fast bastard clinging upside-down to the ceiling. And one huge one dragging itself out of a shallow pool of black water, antennae whipping as it could taste me.
"Oh for fuck's..."
I didn't hesitate. I got out from the corner, slightly bent my knees, leaned forward, extended my hands and turned them sideways for extra stability and pulled the trigger. BANG.
The shot detonated inside the confined space like a flashbang. My still fully healthy, undamaged ears rang instantly, a sharp, painful whine drowning out everything else.
"SON OF A...!"
The bullet sparked off concrete, missing entirely.
"OI!"
Genesis screamed in my head.
"EYES UPFRONT, YOU FUCKING MISSED, IDIOT!"
I blinked, vision swimming. All five cockroaches turned at once. Then they charged.
"Oh shit fuck me!"
I fired again. BANG. Miss. BANG.
"Oh, come on"
I cursed as the recoil kicked harder than I used to remember, snapping my wrists back. My arms felt weak, rubbery. The pistol bucked as it hated me personally.
"Stop jerking the trigger!"
Genesis shouted.
"You're slapping it like it owes you money!"
"I KNOW! I KNOW! FUCK! WHERE'S MY FUCKING MUSCLE MEMMORRY THEN I NEED IT?!"
A roach lunged. BANG. This one hit, kind of. The bullet clipped a leg, sending it spinning, shrieking, but it didn't stop.
"Two hands! TWO HANDS!"
Genesis roared.
"I AM USING TWO HANDS!"
Another shot. Another miss. One hit the wall. One punched into the ceiling. Concrete dust rained down. They were almost on me now.
"FUCK THIS!"
I fired at point-blank range. BANG. The closest roach's head exploded in a spray of ichor and chitin. It collapsed mid-leap. System text flickered.
You have killed: Mutant cockroach + XP
"YES..."
Something slammed into my shin.
"FUCK!"
I stumbled back, firing blindly. BANG. BANG. One bullet went wide. The other punched through a carapace, but not deep enough.
It took a third shot to finally drop it, twitching and curling in on itself. My ears were screaming. My arms were jelly. Sweat blurred my vision.
"You're mag-dumping like a drunk toddler!"
Genesis snapped.
"Slow. Down AND FUCKING BREATHE FOR GODS SAKE!"
Another roach scuttled along the wall. BANG. Miss.
"Jesus Christ."
BANG. The second shot finally took it through the thorax. It hit the floor hard, legs spasming.
You have killed: Mutant cockroach + XP
Two left. The big one surged forward, mandibles clacking. I fired.
Click. I looked only to see that the slide was locked back.
"…fuck me."
Just as I said this and was already ready to release the empty mag and insert a new one. The last two roaches screeched, then collapsed almost simultaneously.
One from a gut shot I hadn't even registered. The other from a lucky hit that shattered its head as it reared up. Silence slammed down. System text chimed one last time.
You have killed: Mutant cockroach + XP
You have killed: Mutant cockroach + XP
I stood there, chest heaving, pistol hanging limp in my hands, ears ringing so badly the world felt underwater.
"…Holy shit, I almost died to fucking cockroaches,"
I panted. Genesis didn't even let me have the moment.
"That,"
She said with surgical cruelty.
"was the worst display of marksmanship I have ever witnessed."
I fumbled a fresh magazine from my pocket, hands shaking, slammed it home harder than necessary, and released the slide, causing a fresh one to enter the firing chamber.
"Even,"
She continued.
"A half-blind toddler with a plastic toy gun could aim better than you."
Hearing this, my jaw tightened. The facial muscles twitching in my face weren't anger at her words.