"They want to elevate humanity. Okay. Sure. That's great. How do they do that? Give Randos some space guns?
Yeah, no, it's not a promotion.
Of course, they have other things to do. Samurai would often "buy" a blueprint and sell it to one company or another. Usually the highest bidder.
Then everyone gets expensive hover cars.
Everything is connected, can't you see? They don't want to promote us, they want to see what we do with their toys! Then they steal our memes! "ha
--4Cha
Comments to /ET/ Board of Directors, 2021
***
There was no better time than now, I made sure my trench machine was tucked tightly into the back of my pants, the bulky Sparrow was ready and the safety was off, the four grenades I bought (each with five points , they threw away my points (counting down to fifty) bulging out of my pocket.
When I asked for something that could snap a bridge off the side of a building, Mialis suggested something called a "space-locked graphene auger." It looks like a small cylinder with a thick black band around it, and according to my AI friends, it will definitely mess up local buildings without actually exploding.
I have other toys. One of them is a bright little thing that looks like a ping pong ball. It has a nice red button on top, the kind that screams "Press Me" without any labeling.
My thumb squeezed the top of the ball and it began to vibrate in small increments, once per second, then twice, and faster. Silent countdown.
I threw the ball as hard as I could toward the end of the cafeteria.
It bounced off the ground once and slid across the floor beneath it, coming to rest next to a wooden box used to hide a trash can.
The ball glowed crimson and then began to hiss. "Oh no, Sally, your legs! - It's okay! We can do it! Help me up. - You're bleeding. What if they come?" I blinked.
"What?" I asked as I squatted down.
Ma
k I Audio Scent Bait is designed to appeal to all kinds of antagonists, including those smart enough to parse basic human language.
Well, that's really scary.
A Type 3 alien rushed to the trash can and started sniffing around, then several more joined in. One of the No. 4 models carrying the body dropped it and moved closer.
It's working. Not perfect. Some models came closer but did not join the crowd, others just watched from afar.
That's good enough for me. I just need them to distract me.
I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a grenade. It's small, just a ball with a label on it. Mialis calls it a directional chemical laser grenade, and it's silent, which is important to me.
The grenade bounced and rolled, then slid aside as one of the Type IIIs walked up to it.
I knelt down and waited. The room lit up as if someone had just turned on the edgiest disco ball ever for a few seconds. No sound was made, but the floor was bouncing, and the faint smell of burning flesh and blood drifted over.
Now I just need to finish the rest. The sparrow landed on the counter with a "ding" sound. One of the nearest Type 3 models turned and stared at me.
Four, maybe five aliens lay on the ground, their bodies cut open and still smoldering, others also had straight-line burns but were still standing. I'll get to that in a moment.
"Go to hell, you idiot," I said.
I need to get back to writing my wisecracks later. Ha ha.
This bulky machine gun sprayed out more than a dozen bullets and was eventually sewn into the No. 3 model car.
Rather than stop and watch it die, I handed the gun to the next lone model. Another shot rang out and a Type 4 was torn to pieces.
A large group of people around the bait began to turn towards me. I greeted them, emptied my magazine, and formed a line that ran the length of the line. Some of them were outright shot, others received only a passing blow, but I saw a few flinch as two or three rounds passed through them.
The sparrow clicked empty, so I pushed it aside, spun on one heel, and ran into the back of the restaurant, the door to the employee area closing behind me.
My plan is quite simple. I think this is the best way to execute a plan without having it blow up in my face.
I pulled out my trench machine as I ran through the narrow hallway at the back of the store. When I saw a door with the familiar double arch sign, I dug my shoulders in and burst into a room filled with the smell of burning oil and processed vegetarian chicken.
The moment I got behind the register, I glanced over to the side where I'd just killed the alien. Some of them are missing. Back to a place I've already been? It doesn't matter.
I sprinted across the counter and toward the open bridge. There were more aliens there, and some of them turned on me, distracting them from their work and throwing bodies onto the street below.
I tucked the gun under my stump, secured it in my armpit, and pulled out the first of three strangler grenades. I pulled the pin out with my teeth and threw it as far as I could, watching it fly over the heads of a dozen aliens.
I've always had a good arm.
When the next one appeared, the large model six blew its whistle and every alien in the area started moving towards me.
I flicked away the second grenade with my low hand. It bounced to a stop just a meter or so from the bridge entrance.
perfect.
The grenade froze in mid-air a foot above the ground. The black band around it suddenly fell away, sending two shards of metal skidding across the floor before the device began to whine.
A thin black circle appeared around it, only a few centimeters wide at first, then growing larger.
One of the passing aliens stretched its leg into the black circle. Its legs were chopped into a hundred thin slices, and the rest of its body was slammed into the rotating blender of monomolecular razor belts.
The circle expanded further until it engulfed the walls and ceiling of the bridge, reducing them to faint dust.
Through the mist, I saw in the distance a piece of the bridge fall to the ground.
that's it.
My last strangler grenade was thrown to a group of aliens running towards me. It gives them something to play with while I'm running.
The entire building creaked as the other end of the bridge collapsed. The sudden pressure on the proximal end, combined with the torn part and my old friend gravity, did the rest.
Just when everything was settled, a huge black figure jumped into the cafeteria.
The Type Six was missing most of one of its legs and was covered in scrapes and cuts, but its four round eyes were still staring at me.
I found myself with a strong urge to get out of this hell.
