It didnt take long before I heard the metal groan. Chains rattled. The massive scrap gate began to open with a sound like the world complaining about it.
As it parted, cold air slipped in, carrying dust, rust, and that faint ozone tang that never quite left ruined places. Genesis floated beside me, arms crossed.
"Try not to die,"
She muttered.
"I just finished vomiting."
No promises.
I replied mentally, stepping forward. The veteran gave me one last look, half gratitude, half fear and slapped the control lever. I passed through the gate just as it began to close behind me.
SCREEEECH. The sound dragged out, long and ugly, metal grinding against metal until the gate slammed shut with a final, echoing CLANG. I was alone again like always. Well. Alone-ish.
I stood still for a moment, letting my senses stretch. The street ahead was a mess of partially collapsed houses, burned-out cars, and debris piles that looked innocent until they weren't. Windows gaped like missing teeth. Doors hung open. Curtains fluttered where walls no longer existed. I slowly scanned left to right. Rifle steady. Breathing even. No movement.
No immediate threats.
"…alright,"
I murmured to myself.
"Let's start from the right."
I turned and headed toward the nearest house on the right-hand side of the street. The porch had collapsed, leaving the front door tilted inward like it was bowing in defeat.
After a few minutes of walking I nudged it open with the barrel of my rifle.
Inside smelled like mold, dust, and something faintly sweet, rotting food, maybe. Or rot that had been food once.
Sunlight cut through holes in the ceiling as Genesis hovered close.
"Reminder,"
She said dryly.
"Last time you said 'let's start from the right,' you got shot at."
"Statistically,"
I whispered back, stepping over a fallen beam,
"That just means it won't happen this time."
She snorted, a quiet, static-laced sound that buzzed at the edge of my hearing. I eased forward anyway, boots barely whispering against the dust-choked floor.
The living room opened up ahead, or what used to be a living room. A couch lay gutted, cushions ripped open like something had gone looking for marrow.
A TV sat face-down, spiderwebbed cracks frozen across the screen. Family photos littered the floor, faces bleached and warped by sun and time.
I hugged the wall, inching toward the corner on my left. Just before I leaned out, I paused. There it was. A faint buzzing. Not loud. Not aggressive. Just present.
…huh.
I thought, tilting my head slightly.
You hear that?
Genesis hovered beside me, arms crossed.
Yeah.
She replied flatly.
Sounds like flies.
I frowned, then a light bulb appeared over my head as I looked at Genesis floating In front of my face.
…go take a look and tell me what you see.
After hearing this she stared at me. Not blinked. Not sighed. Just stared.
It was the kind of stare you give someone when you're genuinely reassessing whether they've always been like this or if something recent caused the damage. Then her eye twitched.
"Oy,"
She said slowly, dangerously calm,
"you fucking dead-brained meat sack."
Hearing this I glanced at her and narrowed my eyes.
"Are you really fucking retarded"
She continued, genuinely curious now,
"or are you just pretending?"
I stared back, offended.
…aren't you like a ghost or something?
I said In my mind. Hearing this she blinked. Once. Twice. Then she dragged a palm down her face, expression collapsing into pure despair.
"Oh gods above and below,"
She groaned.
"You are really fucking retarded after all."
She pinched the bridge of her nose so hard I half-expected sparks.
"Liste here you fucking shit stain,"
She said, forcing the words out like she was explaining gravity to a literal fucking rock.
"I am not a fucking ghost."
She looked at me dead-on.
"I'm basically your subconscious."
I squinted, clearly not recounting the whole explanation she did back In my new timeline, seeing this she deflated visibly.
"…okay this Is clearly too hard for someone like you with special needs. Long story short, because clearly you don't have the processing power for the extended cut."
She jabbed a finger at my temple.
"I hear what you hear. I see what you see. Nothing more. Nothing less. I don't scout ahead, I don't phase through walls, and I don't magically know shit you don't."
She paused, then added bitterly,
"If I could, do you honestly think I'd still be stuck in here with you?"
I blinked. Processed that. Then nodded slowly.
"…got it."
She watched me warily.
So it's basically like it used to be.
I continued sarcastically.
Only now you're self-aware, sarcastic, and actively insulting me.
Her eye twitched again.
And.
I added,
You're basically possessing me now.
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Took a deep breath that did absolutely nothing for her lack of lungs.
"…I am not possessing you, well technically I am but thats not the point"
I tilted my head.
Right. So you're just a pain in my white skinny ass instead and for the record Im dumb not retarted.
Silence followed as Genesis stared at me for a long, long second.
"…I hate you,"
She said quietly.
I smirked
Yeah well that makes two of us then.
I thought as I leaned out from the corner, slow and careful, bringing my rifle up into my shoulder In one swift motion. The wooden stock settled in like it belonged there. Breath steady. Elbows tucked.
Muzzle tracking the hallway ahead. And that's when I saw them. Three of them. Oversized. Wrong.
Mutated flies, each about the size of a small dogs, bodies swollen and asymmetrical like someone had overinflated them and then forgotten to stop.
Their wings were torn and translucent, buzzing not in a clean rhythm but in a wet, stuttering whine that made my teeth itch. Bulging compound eyes reflected the dim light in fractured rainbows.
Their legs dragged along the walls, barbed and twitching, leaving faint scratches in the peeling paint. The buzzing wasn't just sound. It was pressure. Like the air itself was vibrating in protest.
Oh fuck me, fucking flies, I hate fucking flies.
I thought flatly as one of them turned its head. All six eyes locked onto me at once. That was enough. I squeezed the trigger.
The rifle bucked against my shoulder, a sharp, familiar kick. The first shot cracked through the hallway and punched into the wall just behind the lead fly, spraying plaster and dust.
"Fuck..."
I adjusted, fired again. Missed. The second round tore through a doorframe, splintering rotten wood.
The flies surged forward, wings screaming louder, legs scrambling against the floor like knives on tile. Third shot. Finally a hit.
The round punched straight through the thorax of the nearest one. It didn't just fall, it burst fucking apart. The body ruptured like an overripe fruit dropped from a height.
Greenish-black ichor splattered the walls, chunks of chitin spinning away as the thing or what was left of It collapsed mid-air and hit the ground with a wet slap. Genesis gagged in my head.
"Oh gods... nope, nope, absolutely not... Im gonna puke again at this rate"
Fourth shot. Clean hit to the second fly's head. The impact snapped it backward, wings shredding themselves apart as it detonated in a spray of viscera and twitching limbs.
The buzzing cut off mid-note. The last one juked left, faster than it had any right to be, skittering up the wall. I tracked it, heart beating wildly, breath quick and heavy. Fifth shot. Bullseye.
The bullet punched through its abdomen and the thing exploded against the ceiling, raining gore and blackened chunks down like the world's worst confetti.
Something sticky splattered across my sleeve. Silence fell hard. Smoke curled from my barrel. Dust drifted down in lazy spirals.
The buzzing was gone, replaced by the faint ringing in my ears and the soft tick-tick of cooling metal. I lowered the rifle slightly, scanning for movement. Nothing. Then as usual.
DING.
A translucent blue window snapped into existence in my vision, glittering cheerfully like it hadn't just watched me turn three biological nightmares into paste.
YOU KILLED A MUTATED FLIE +XP
YOU KILLED A MUTATED FLIE +XP
YOU KILLED A MUTATED FLIE +XP
Then the XP bar nudged forward with a smug little shimmer. Genesis stared at the carnage, then at the notification.
"…you should get xp reduction for every wasted bullet maybe then youre aim would actually Improve"
She muttered, hearing this I exhaled slowly through my nose, lips twitching.
"Hey,"
I talked back, stepping over a severed wing that crunched under my boot.
"Five bullets, three kills. That's more than efficient In my book."
Hearing this Genesis just gave me the usual stink eye.
"At what two, three meters range? Thats practically point black and you managed to miss two fucking shots"
She barked not sugar coating her words one bit.