"Fashion among samurai is a fast-changing and vicious thing. Most low-level samurai change clothing and style suddenly, sometimes literally. Their mass-market appeal requires that they stand out from what came before them, at least It's a little bit.
This is why you see some people adopting such wild styles. The rise of entire websites dedicated to judging certain samurai's fashion sense (and shaming those who go too far), the tabloids surrounding them, and the way clothing companies are quick to imitate any interesting fashion show can spark a strange kind of competition.
Oddly enough, most veteran samurai don't care too much about this. By the time they're this far in their career, they've usually figured out the look and style they want to adopt. "
Chief Costume Designer, Nimbletai
me
t I
c. 2032
***
New Purchase: Under Shoulder Self-Loading Holster Ma
i
Points reduced to... 224
I stared at the box on the ground, next to a few other boxes I'd kicked. Mialis convinced me to get my injuries healed before moving on. Want me to buy a box of juice?
I sucked at my drink until my cheeks were hollow.
This is hands down the best drink I've ever had. It’s sweet and salty, with a hint of citrus, and a lingering aftertaste, as if I’d just bitten into a very expensive organic apple, which is a wonderful treat in this apocalyptic world, ha.
Point is, alien food is the best and worth every point.
"I could never give these to Lucy," I said, taking the straw out of the box and turning it over to drink the last drop.
I don't see how this would be bad for her.
"She would keep nagging me for more. Then she would act coquettish on me and pretend to cry, and I would fold like a pack of cards. She would drain my points in one afternoon. Ha."
It's rather painful for me to know that my vanguard is easily influenced by beautiful young women who look pathetic.
I snorted. "I didn't ask you to stuff it into my head," I said. "Now, let's look at this thing."
I'm used to opening boxes only to find new toys inside. It beats...almost any Christmas. The best thing we got was some really nice school supplies one year from a Samurai-run charity, and even though they were cool, they were still school supplies.
The cover came off with a dull thud, and I tossed it aside, inadvertently revealing the contents of…a jacket….
I took the autoloader out of the box and lifted it up. There are two holes for arm access, the sleeves reach to the elbow, and there's a zipper in the front. But the whole thing only reaches the lower ribs. More like half a jacket than an actual jacket.
I shrugged, put it aside, and tore off my tattered gray coat. That thing already had a hole the size of a fist, and it had accomplished its mission anyway.
Installing the autoloader is a bit tricky. It has pockets on the back and two boxes sandwiched between the armpits and the pocket opening. But it looks stylish, like a custom fur coat.
Place the gun in one of the holsters.
I did as Mialis asked and put my trench machine into the right holster. The whole thing squeezed around the gun like a vacuum seal in less than the blink of an eye. I had to tug on it a little to get it out. "Cool," I said. "What about the loading situation?"
Touch an empty magazine to the box under your arm. I recommend buying a few.
"Sure, give it to me, uh..." The gun was originally empty, and there were four pockets behind the autoloader. I imagine they'll be sealed the same way. "Five magazines. All incendiary."
You really enjoy these rounds. Maybe you should try something else? The trencher can use micro-missiles, discarding sabots, explosives and many other payloads. So cool!
"Just use incendiary bombs now," I said. Although some of them sound very tempting.
New purchase: .45 armor-piercing incendiary magazine. five units
Points reduced to... 214
Five books appeared in front of me next to the empty box. I picked one up and tapped it against the small, slender box under my arm.
I couldn't even see three little arms sticking out of the box, grabbing the magazine with tiny pliers, and spinning it around behind me. They insert the magazine into one of the back pockets and slide it back into place.
"Cool," I said. I watched as my little arm inserted three more magazines, then I tucked my trench machine into place. The little arm immediately goes to work, dropping the empty magazine to the ground and loading a new one in less than two seconds. "Okay." I looked down at myself and nodded. "It even looks kind of cool. Does it come in a color other than black?"
Indeed. You have a choice next time. I don't think it matters.
I raised an eyebrow. “What colors can I choose?”
Which hex code is your favorite?
"I...it's nothing, I'm just curious."
I have your size so it should be comfortable.
I blinked, then felt the inside of the autoloader. It's nice and padded. A quick pull, then a bounce up and down, revealed something important. "You weren't kidding when you said size."
The damn thing wouldn't fit if I gained weight, but it doesn't hinder my breathing.
Do you need anything else?
"I...think that's it for now," I said. How much time have I wasted playing cool gun dress-ups? I shook my head and considered putting on my torn jacket, but then gave up. I wore a black half-jacket, my clothes were torn and bloody, and I might have looked a mess, but I looked dangerous, and that was fashion enough for me.
I considered throwing everything in the trash but then gave up on the idea. The entire building was littered with alien corpses, and it probably didn't matter that I left some trash on the ground.
"Now go see if the others are still alive?" I said.
