The rural areas are probably some of the worst to patrol for Antithesis hives, just because how much less often they are reported on as problematic. Usually by the time we hear about them it’s already spiraled out of control.

  There’s often a subset of Samurai I like to call hive busters who devote their time to prowling around for these rural hives and nipping them in the bud before they turn into a larger issue. We actually got a new one recently who falls into this category. I’m always thankful for these hive busters, because that life must be a constant pain in the ass.

  - Samurai Trigonometry, 2054

  “Flip me.” As soon as the words left my mouth, my Charon literally dumped me off of it in a fluid one-eighty twist, slipping me off my seat and sending hurtling towards the ground from several thousand feet up without a parachute.

  Based on the objectively manic smile glued to my face this may or may not have been exactly what I wanted.

  Me and Trig had set up a pretty solid deal for ourselves. Using his literal fleet of surveillance drones he tracks down whatever small hives were popping up over the state, and then I went to deal with them. For him, he didn’t have to leave the comfort of his Phoenix office. For me, I got to kill shit.

  This particular hive was the third in a trio Trig had let me know about, this final one forming in a giant sinkhole in the northwestern province of Arizona. While I could have entered it with some modicum of caution, like a normal person, throwing myself into it at near-terminal velocity not only proved to be a great way of charging up the Newtons but also proved to be an immensely fun way to start destroying it.

  A Model Eleven that had been circling the area at the time somehow caught onto my appearance, probably due to the not-crazy-person laughter, and tried to intercept me on the way down. In return, I decked as soon as it came into range, and watched as I not only continued towards the ground unimpeded but also exploded the Eleven, causing evil plant bird bits to splatter off in literally every direction.

  Max, do you actually have a plan to land without turning yourself into a splatter?

  “Hopefully!” I had to yell with the wind rushing past making it hard to hear myself. “I can probably slow myself with my boots. They must have a sustained burn feature, right?”

  I like to note that they are very specifically ‘pulse-burst thruster boots’, so they do not have a sustained burst function implemented in them.

  Ah. My following silence must have spoken enough about how much I didn’t consider such a possibility, as Cal gave what could best be described as a ‘disappointed parent sigh’.

  I can’t believe my Vanguard was about to kill herself in such an idiotic way.

  “Hey, it takes an idiot to know one,” I replied. “You voluntarily picked me after all. So, I’m guessing you have a plan to slow me down?”

  Unlike someone I know, I actually consider various possibilities. If you would kindly purchase the Jet Alignment Belt from your Class I Personal Propulsion Catalog for 150 points, I can save you from a frankly embarrassing death.

  “Thanks Cal.”

  Purchased: Jet Alignment Belt - 150 points

  Point Total: 9673

  I felt the sensation of something appearing in my grip, and I quickly clasped the silver belt around my waist, which was admittedly harder to do than expected when you are falling at a speed faster than many vehicles. As soon as the clasp clicked on, the belt tightened to fit my waist and the quartet of thrusters blasted to life, slowly pushing me up and slowing my fall.

  By the time I reached the interior of the cave I was falling noticeably slower, to the point where a feather hit the ground harder than I did. That did remove some of the excitement, but my gauntlets were still glowing a nasty streak of silver, and it was, begrudgingly, preferable to become a red splatter and free biomass for the Antithesis.

  As soon as boots hit dirt, I rolled my neck. “Cal, drop it.”

  Purchased: “Hive-Buster” Explosive Audio Lure - 120 Points

  Point Total: 9553

  The person-sized pill of steel fell to the earth with a heavy thunk, embedding itself a few inches into the dirt. One could make out several speakers covering its surface, but otherwise it was solid metal head to toe.

  Coming to the conclusion that a sound-based Antithesis lure would work best wasn’t a hard one; the distinct lack of cover across large swaths of desert meant winds could be nasty, which made scent lures much harder to use. The audio lure, which couldn’t technically cover as much ground as the pheromones, could draw in the Antithesis regardless of the state of the weather.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Also, it could simultaneously blast music while sending out the dummy call, which I found to be a very appealing feature of making Antithesis killing way more enjoyable.

  “Hmm, what are we feeling today?” I rolled several different song possibilities through my head while rolling the tongue in my mouth. “Metal? Think I’ve overdone it at this point. Mmm, rap might be bad if my brain tries to focus on what’s actually being said, especially if its mumble rap. Pop? Bleh, no.”

  If I may, I’ve curated a selection of rock songs that should be to your liking for the current hive clearing.

  “Oh, well it’d be rude to say no if you prepared it yourself.” I hopped in place a few times to loosen up, make the arms and legs limber and all that, before bringing my gauntlets up in a battle stance. “Hit it.”

  An electric guitar came to life across the speakers, slowly building itself in crescendo for the first verse. The hole remained quiet for a couple seconds before a group of Model Threes bounded in teeth bared sprinting right for me and the lure.

  Reasonable people probably wouldn’t run full tilt towards them, but when did I ever give the impression I was reasonable when fighting? Did the giant grin on my face give it away?

  The Model Three leading the charge popped like a balloon as soon as my fist hit its forehead, the force coming out of the supercharged gauntlets actively creating a shockwave that knocked the remaining Threes off their feet. Silver slags came shortly after, the thrown punches tearing through their bodies far before the plant dogs could right themselves.

  Half a dozen Threes, dead just like that. What a thrill.

  I did a little hop to turn around, as I could hear the next wave of Antis coming out from the other side, to which I ran over to and punched until they died.

  And then I did it again. And again. My fighting style is pretty simple. I punch things, they die. Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it, though. Probably why the Death Punch moniker stuck.

  After enough time and murder I slipped into that zen state, and soon the minutes bled together into a slurry of mindless killing. Once I did come to, I was surrounded by a proverbial mountain of dead Antithesis, and just as covered in their very messy remains. I nearly wiped my brow with a gauntlet to get off all the sweat that was collecting on my forehead, but I managed to catch myself before smearing myself in plant viscera. It didn’t matter anyways; I was wearing the mask.

  Something pinged in my vision, and I hopped back before a familiar bladed tentacle smacked the patch of dirt I had been standing a second before. A quick glance confirmed the culprit; a Thirteen, having emerged from one of the tunnels and now skittering along the walls of the hole while sending a storm of whips and blades my way.

  “You’ll be a nice way to wrap up,” I said, jumping back to give myself adequate space.

  This last month since Orson had given me a lot more experience in dealing with Thirteens, now that fighting them solo was no longer optional. More specifically, I was learning what patterns and angles they like to attack from, the structural weaknesses in their limbs and cores, and all sorts of experimentation with different types of miscellaneous equipment to soften them up. I was very quickly becoming a regular customer with whatever Protector a galaxy away was making the Bun-G.E.E. grenades.

  With that said though, my newer equipment also helped the process immensely.

  With the token I had gotten from Orson, I chose to reinvest it into the Hex Crusher Armaments Catalog. There was one specific item I was eyeing up from there, but more immediately I used the newly-minted Class II Catalog to purchase the JAB’s older sibling. It was a little bulkier than before, stretching over a bit more of each gauntlet, but the upgrade was well worth the points. No standout new features, but who really needs a shiny new bell and whistle when it spends less liquid per shot and comes out both faster and stronger than before. Sometimes a simple upgrade is all you need.

  And a simple upgrade is what suffices here, as it meant my strategy could once again just boil down to ‘punch the thing, just far away’.

  Bolt after bolt was thrown in the direction of the Thirteen, usually after grabbing a tentacle to make sure it couldn't slip out of the way. Each one struck true, tearing through the flesh of the Antithesis until it gradually had more holes than not. One final bolt hit the center of its sole remaining body, and the Antithesis slumped dead, crashing to the ground after its limbs could no longer hold onto the wall.

  Defeated: Model Thirteen - 100 points

  Point Total: 11064

  I gave a content sigh. Fighting stuff with the JAB Mk. II did make these types of encounters a little more boring, but any Model in the teens was always going to be at least a little fun. Except that Eleven I punched out of the sky earlier. That one went down like a wimp.

  That should about cover it, Max.

  “Dope, call down the Charon.”

  A minute later my bike swooped down into the hole, unintentionally committing vehicular manslaughter against a few Model Ones that dared to get in its way, which was a funny bit of extra points. As soon as it touched down, I hopped on and rocketed back out of the sinkhole.

  “Go ahead and shoot Trig the all-clear on the hive here,” I said. “Cleanup teams should be all good to go, though let them know to still be vigilant as there could still be Nines on the ground. A few came down to the lure, but that doesn’t mean I got them all.”

  Sending. And since we are on the subject of cleanup, isn’t there something else you forgot to address?

  It took me a moment to realize, but I wanted to bash my head into the console once I did. “The lure! Duh! Pop it.”

  A deep boom went off behind me, and just as I glanced back I saw a plume of smoke rise from the sinkhole, followed by several kill notifications and a new token. Did I mention the lure exploded as well?

  I let out a sigh and the tension left my body, taking off the mask in the process and let a few locks of hair blow backwards. Unfortunately, that was also the time my nose decided to work again and took in the dead plant remains I was now totally covered in, which caused me to scrunch up my face. “Bleh, I smell like shit.”

  Should’ve waited until you got back to camp.

  “Yeah yeah, the galactic supercomputer is right again or whatever.” I let out a yawn, some of the fatigue of the battle finally making itself known. “Shower when I get back, then I think tonight's a good night to finish a book.”

  Six Shooter by Coyote Kisses