Maniac’s Mayhem: A guide to being a corporate slave

Chapter Thirty-One: Stopping To Smell The Flowers



The sentiment don't mess with samurai is largely ignored. Samurai are still humans, after all, so they might take direct action against the perpetrator. The company's assets are in large part safe. This is not something that counts for all. Some samurai become monsters.

The exodus list as it is called in local corporate slang, is a list of samurai that, when spotted in the same city as the company in question they would immediately evacuate all vital equipment and personnel because crossing one of these monsters is suicide. Notable members on this list include the Dread Queen, Alie Atomica, Mother, and Mega Heat.

-- The differences between samurai, a podcast by the Purple Truth, June 2051

We descend further into the Badlands after all our preparation is done. The area is weird. Like there is complete silence, and not much of a landscape except for a few hills; I mean, there are some remnants of civilisation left, like some pieces of a road or a fallen-over lamppost, but to be honest, I would like to find something more substantial, like a teddy bear soaked in grey water with patches of hair falling off, or a rusted toy car that started to grow legs because of the radiation. Wait Legs? Legs!

“Plants incoming!” I shout, while running at the green leg I see moving behind one of the little hills.

I run towards the chloroform asshole while pumping the last of my stimulant into my veins. With a little bit of luck, I will make enough points to refuel. Jumping around some rocks, I come face to face with the mouth of a Model 3. A quick sideswipe takes care of it. I do a quick scan of the area and notice more of the Jasmine injective running my way. Well, this is going to be fun.

I run at the closest blueberry and hack that into a smoothie as well. But Green Pieces is not giving up this soon, and more of the aliens jump me; I give one of them a good kick and send the Lorax background actor flying back into a hill. Bubbles start to fly all around me at this point, and it only takes us a few more moments until we have dispatched all the remaining flowers.

“Well, that was fun,” I say, “but also kind of disappointing; they used to say that this place was swarming with plants. And we have seen, like, what, eight pissed-off cacti.”

“I mean, we are hardly the only samurai that come to hunt in this area, so what did you expect?" Bubbles says.

“I guess that makes sense, but I was kind of hoping that it would be more of a last-stand situation, swatting down plant by plant as we try to get further in.” I grumble.

“You get plenty of those, trust me.” Glowstick says. “I have been through a few myself, and they are not as pleasant as you think.”

“Really, I mean, if the alternative is being in a boring office. I'd rather be surrounded by enemies on all sides, guts and blood spilling out of everything.“ I smell the plant blood on my blade. ”Okay, why do they smell worse than I remember?”

“Radiation, mostly.” Glowstick says. “This zone is still radioactive. Most of the hives here have adapted to it. Their blood also is more irradiated than normal antithesis blood, so don’t be eating any of it.”

“Wait, fuck, really?” I say. “Is this going to be a problem? Like, are we going to grow second heads or something?”

“No, I, for one, have changed my skin so I am immune to radiation,” Glowstick says, “and the two of you can get some kind of cure or replacement before any of the damage of the radiation really sets in. Though you should be careful if you still want kids, your eggs might be damaged.”

“Well, we are good then, I don’t have those anymore.” I say, while trying to climb a nearby hill

“Ooh, why did you get rid of them?” Glowstick asks.

“Because being on your period when a customer wants some fun time is bad for business.” I say nonchalantly. It’s one of the few things that I am happy they did. I am not interested in getting kids, so going through that amount of pain every month just seems like a giant waste of time.

I hear metal bending, and as I look back to see what it is, I see that Bubbles has punched an old car door. “Why have you not killed these people yet?” she almost growls at me.

“Because it’s a lot of work, I lack the points, and I want them to know that they died by me, Evelin, not Maniac, some insane samurai. I want them to know that this was done out of spite, not random chance.” I say.

“So,you have some kind of road map on how to get rid of them all?” Bubbles says.

“Kind of, but it is less of a map and more of a big dart board at which I shoot a shotgun. Plans keep changing when I get new information; new information always comes to light, “ I say.

“Well, you start putting some of those plans into action quickly, before I start to make plans of my own.”

That takes me a bit off guard. “Yeah, I am working on it. I have plans on taking out both of the eldest sons and just need to gather some more pieces, as well as some points, to get a good signal jammer.”

“Hmm, well, you better be right about this.” she says, while dousing the corpses in more acid.

After making sure that there is no more useful biomass, we leave to look for the next group of dryad whisperers. And we do find a new group, but this one has more than only model 3s. There are some Model 4s and a Model 5 hanging around in this area.

I make sure we are all ready and launch one of my spears at the Model 5, blasting a good chunk out of its left side. I am not sure if it survives that, but I am not taking any chances, so I throw another one, hitting it straight above its face and drilling a hole in its back. Well, that should be enough for now. And if it’s still alive, it can’t really move that much anymore.

After that, I get stuck in slicing and dicing the model 3s and 4s while toxic bubbles float all around me. I am so happy that my mask make me somewhat bubble-proof. I mean, the rate at which the battery of my mask is depleting is telling me that this is not something I can do for prolonged periods of time, but I should manage in here for a while longer.

As I enjoy pruning a particularly tentacled model four, I noticed that the bubbles have stopped floating around me. I do a quick scan of the surroundings and notice that something big, in the air, currently has Bubbles' entire focus. I quickly switch my claymore to my left hand. It's not as strong as my right, but the program made sure that I was just as comfortable with it. I try to reach for a spear only to realise that they are still in or, more likely, behind the corpse of the model 5. I guess this is why they always say to pick up your own trash.

Well, that leaves my ammo options rather limited, and I am not about to abandon my sword, so I grab a spare pen and aim at the flying plant. I am pretty sure that it is a model 11. I fling the pen at the creature, clipping and tearing off one of it’s wings. I don’t have enough time to look where it is landing as I get knocked over by one of the face huggers that jumped on my back when I was distracted. I quickly push myself up with my right hand while rolling over on my side. I keep turning until the discount calamari is in sight and stab my sword in deep, putting all my weight into it. I quickly get up from the ground just in time to intercept two new Model 3s running at me. Well, this is what I was talking about. Endless hordes of aliens to phytonicide.

Well, like all good things, they have to come to an end at some point. So does the killing of an obscene amount of plants. How disappointing. Then again, I was feeling that my sword was getting less sharp, so taking a break to sharpen my sword would be good.

‘So, how many of the buggers did I kill’ I subvocalise, while trying to get out of this acid-ridden field without falling on my face.

You have personally slain nineteen model 3s, twelve model 4s, and one model 5.

‘neat. How many points am I at now, then?’

You are at 488 points now.

'I'm not one to complain or anything, but I feel like that math does not work out, unless a Model 5 gives significantly more points than I thought it would.'

You and Vanguard Liquid Catalyst both received 55%.of your collective points gained.

‘I don’t know what kind of math they do on Pandora or wherever you are from, but here on earth, 55% plus 55% equals 110%, not 100%. Where did the extra 10% come from?’ I subvocalised to my pocket calculator.

An extra 10% is added as a reward for two vanguards working together to incentivise working together.

‘Ooh, isn’t that nice? Just like kindergarten, we get additional rewards for playing together.'

If you don’t want them, Lyssa can give your extra 5% to Vanguard Liquid Catalyst.

‘I did not say that I would not keep them. Thank you very much. Anyway, my mask is almost out of battery, and my sword has gone dull. Any suggestions.’

Lyssa recommends getting an additional battery and asking Vanguard Liquid Catalyst to share a catalogue so you can have a more acid-resistant weapon.

‘I see’ I sent Bubbles a quick message, and after she gave me the okay, I go back to Lyssa. ‘Okay, give me the stuff.’

You know that texting people when they are in the same room can be an indication of stunted social growth.

New Purchase: Rechargeable CK34042 Batteries

Points reduced to... 483

New Purchase: Primary Advanced Reagent Aggregating Ngulu Operated Infuser Adapter

Points reduced to... 433

‘Gesundheit’

Two boxes appear in front of me in their typical paint-splotched glory. I should really learn how to do art like that. It is going to be embarrassing when someone asks me to make them something, and I am not able to do it. To distract me from my lack of art skills, I grab the small box first and open it. It holds these tiny disk-like batteries, so I take off my mask, pop out the old batteries, and put in the new ones before putting it back on. Okay, full charge, we are good to go again.

Then I open the big box and inside is a thick cyan blade with a curved edge at the end reminisced of a small sickle. There are what I think are thorns or points on the back of the blade, making it a problem even when you don’t get hit by the business end of this weapon.

‘what in green pants hell is this then?’

That is a Ngulu traditional executioner sword.

‘and from what planet does this off-brand paddle come from?’

Earth, it was used by the ancient Egyptians.

‘so I just insulted an entire culture. Great, time to get cancelled, I guess.’

It was bound to happen eventually. Just be happy that they all have been dead for more than a thousand years, so the chance of them launching a complaint is rather small.

‘well, that is good, so what can this sword do? Shoot lasers, changes the gravitational pull?’

There is a small space for a canister in the hilt of the sword. You can slot one of Liquid Catalyst chemical compound mixtures in it, allowing the chemicals to flow to the pores in the sword, and apply acid or any other chemical of your choice to the blade.

‘ooh, so I have an acident sword now. Well, that is something. Whatever happened to make a sword sharper to make it better'

At some point, you can’t make it sharper without reducing the structural integrity of the sword.

‘wait, I had an idea’, I subvocalise, when I think of something amazing.

Should Lyssa put out an evacuation notice?

‘very funny, no. I was just wondering if I put in her bubble solution, do I get a bubble sword?’

The bubbles will be smaller, but the possibility is there

“Bubble sword!” I exclaim loudly while raising my arms in the air.

 

if anyone was curious what a ngulu looked like here is one

 

image

maniac's song is here and its time for you to give it a listen

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also me have discord go bully me over there if you want discord


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