Dumb Ex: Dumbkind Dumbvided
Chapter 2: Attack of the Killer Nuns
Adam Jensen left the convention building and headed in the general direction of where he guessed the soon-to-be blown to smithereens residential homes were located. Unfortunately for him, however, every road he came across was blocked by a giant cube with a silhouette of a rooster printed on them. Of course, it was the most well known and most notorious obstacle of the Deus Ex franchise.
The dreaded rooster cube!
The only place not blocked by one of these geometrical abominations was a spiky cathedral like something out an edgelord's wildest dream, or Bloodborne, which is basically the same thing but with masochists taken into account.
Adam figured he may as well intrude this holy sanctum and see if it had a backdoor leading to onto the street he was looking for. If not, it would at least be worth it to steal some holy artifacts to help him make some money on the black market.
Prior generations had pissed so much money down the drain greenlighting Michael Bay's Transformers movies. That's why Adam resorted to such desperate measures to steal people's crap, because the economy of the future was just that bad.
If not for his dependence on stolen wealth, he would have to live in a crowded house occupied by multiple families working their asses off to pay off an exorbitant rent. Basically it would be like Too Many Cooks, but you know, in a cyberpunk future, and thus naturally much more depressing, but on the bright side, the body count would be significantly lower, and they would all be suicides instead of murders committed by a creepy cannibal.
Adam approached the entrance of the cathedral where a hairy hobo sat reclined against the locked doors, holding a cardboard sign that said: "I don't need money. I'm just starved for attention, ya'll."
Adam would've punched the door down as was his usual approach in stealth tactics, but his battery power wasn't fully charged and he didn't have the patience to wait for it to replenish. Sure, he could've eaten a Cyberboost Proenergy Bar to restore his power, but he wasn't sure his sensitive teeth could take any more of them, as they were just chocolate coated batteries, and batteries, as it turned out, were not made to be eaten. Who would've guessed?
Without any other options left, he pulled a GEP gun out of his ass and fired a rocket at the door, blowing it into splinters, but also inexplicably blowing the hobo into meat splinters as well, sending his bankrupt soul screaming and hurtling to hobo heaven where he would meet hobo Odin from a deleted scene of Thor Ragnarok.
Back when Adam was a wimp of a mortal, he probably would've suffered from a lifelong existential crisis and PTSD from committing this egregious sin, but now that he was a cyborg he transcended humanity and their obsolete morality. Besides, it's not like cyborgs were going to Heaven, so he may as well not bother trying to be a good person.
"I didn't ask for any of this," Adam muttered, his voice still as gruff as ever. "I was made this way."
He proceeded forth into the cathedral, its inner sanctum illuminated by light shining through the stained glass windows, casting hues of varying colors across every surface like the lights of a hipster rave party frozen in time.
The biggest stained glass window at the back of the cathedral was actually the stained glass demon from the PS1 game MediEvil merely disguised as a window. It wouldn't awaken because Adam hadn't released its soul from a glass heart in the basement, but he didn't feel like having a crossover or meeting any basement dwelling millennials today, so he ignored that sidequest and focused on the primary objective.
Nobody occupied the pews as he passed them, save for a couple of mudokons from Oddworld: Abe's Oddysee, who sat with their legs crossed, eyes closed and heads bobbing up and down as they chanted, sparkles of seizure inducing light dancing around their stupid ponytailed heads. Their chanting, however, was in vain, since there were no sligs to possess, and the church in general forbade demonic possession. Thus the mudokons remained in a samsara of never-ending chants that is still ongoing even to this day.
As he neared the podium, the backdoors opened and an army of nuns stepped forth in a procession as eerie as the Deacons of the Deep from Dark Souls III. They arranged themselves in a row and the nun in the middle, who Adam assumed to be the leader, stepped forward.
"Adam Jensen," said the nun leader, making sure that she sounded as sophisticated as humanly possible. Her name was probably some boring name that made it sound like the person in question was born as an elderly person and had no childhood. "You are very much like Adam of the Bible. You will lead all of mankind into a false enlightenment if you are not dealt with extreme prejudice."
Adam shrugged. "Give me a break. I'm just passing through."
"Yes, a lot of so-called followers are also passing through a figurative cathedral we call life, but I assure you that the residential homes you seek on the other side are nothing but a burning hell, and the deaths of these innocent people is all your fault, naturally. I mean, who else are we going to blame? Marchenko? Unlikely."
"I don't believe it anymore than I believe in the existence of leprechauns!" Adam spat. "I will have no more of your nunsense!"
"Then you will die a slow and painful death, because no one will bother to save you, just like Microsoft didn't bother to save Windows Vista!" From her back, she pulled off an enormous gothic battleaxe with a hellish skull engraved on the flat of the blade. It looked like it should've came from a Hexen game rather than a Deus Ex game, but it was a nice change of pace nonetheless.
She swung the axe around like a highlander swinging around a hammer for a hammer toss, all the meanwhile producing a battle cry that sounded more like Tarja Turunen's operatic vocals from Nightwish. (You know, back when Nightwish was actually good, or so says the purists.)
Before the axe came into contact with Adam's Adam's apple, he caught the axe's blade between his palms. "I wanna axe you a question." He pulled the axe free from the nun's greedy grasp and tossed it aside. He would later trade the axe to Axe Cop, who would make great use of it fighting evil vampires for a single occasion. In exchange, Axe Cop would give him $5.00, which was actually worth a lot in this future's crippling economy.
Adam proceeded to punch the nun so hard her astral form flew out of her body and Doctor Strange's astral form flew in and sliced her in half ironically with the Axe of Angarruumus, white ghost blood spurting from the two halves of her cleanly sliced ghost body. (I know Doctor Strange is usually a pacifist, but let's just use our imagination and say that he was going through a bad phase at this point in his life.)
"Send Casper my regards," said Adam.
A nun with a katana edged forward, holding the blade's hilt firmly in her dainty hands with the tip of the sword aimed straight forward, unaware that the katana was not well suited as a stabbing weapon. If Sephiroth had believed this it would've prevented him from even attempting to stab Aeris/Aerith, but he had a tendency of defying the laws of physics as angsty edgelords often tend to do.
Adam snapped his finger and, from out of a puff of weed smoke, an anthromorphic Shiba Inu appeared. It stood atop of a boombox blasting Skrillex music. It wore pants that hung down to its knees, exposing its piss stained underwear. On its head, it wore a sideways hat and a pair of hipster sunglasses over its eyes.
A joint protruded from the dog's lips, and it dabbed while holding a spinning fidget spinner in each hand-paw while Japanese girls snapped pictures with their flip phones and kept commenting on how kawaii and sugoi the dog was. The darker side of the furry community on the other hand, well, let's just say you don't want to know what they were up to.
The katana-wielding nun cried in anguish. "I swore an oath that I would never conform to the patterns of this world, nor lay my eyes on any wicked thing! Now, because of you, I have been desecrated permanently!" The nun turned the katana towards her chest and stabbed it through herself, committing the ancient Japanese technique of seppuku and dishonouring her stuck-up ancestors, who scowled down at her pathetic corpse from a heavenly abode.
"Now that's what I call sushi!" said Adam, making sure to sound as racially insensitive as possible as was the way of a white male American Trump supporter eating cheeseburgers.
A young nun in a blue robe strutted forward seductively while swinging around a red yo-yo. It wasn't a girl, rather it was a young boy called Bridget, who hailed from the fighting game Guilty Gear and was a well known trap among many fans of the anime community unfortunate enough to come across his fan art.
The crossdressing nun bum rushed Adam, attempting to convert him to the gay side of the force, but since he was the straightest and manliest Gary Stu of all time, it had no effect.
"There are only two genders," said Adam, bluntly.
Tears started spewing from Bridget's eyes like water from a sprinkler and he ran out of the cathedral, never to be seen again until the next batch of overpriced Guilty Gear Xrd DLC.
A freakishly tall and brutish blonde haired man crossdressing as a nun stepped forward. It was Sister from Arakawa Under the Bridge. Instead of his usual weapons, he wielded the super shotgun Nirvana from that one level in Doom II. (The original 1994 Doom II, not Doom Eternal.) He cocked the gun and pressed down on the trigger all the meanwhile humming the chorus from Nirvana's song Drain You. Needless to say, Kurt Cobain would've been proud.
Adam stepped forth, plugged two robotic fingers into the barrels of the gun and, as it fired, the shot blew backwards, coating Sister in black soot.
Adam had learned this technique from Rubber Hoseian-Sapiens, a race of beings from another dimension who coincidentally relied on a set of physics identical to 1930's rubber hose animation. A certain fellow called Cuphead had provided some especially helpful advice on how to morph one's own head into a damn axe, but Adam hadn't tried it yet, because he didn't want to get to risk getting a headache.
"Sorry," said Sister, bluntly, and walked away to clean up after himself before Maria found out.
A nun with a psychotic grin on her face stepped forward. Her robe was soaked head to toe in blood like a Bloodborne character or, alternatively, Zero from the lagfest that was Drakengard 3.
She wielded a gold plated chainsaw, its blade in the shape of a cross, which was not only difficult for the manufacturers to make, but very impractical. Its chain was lubricated with holy water and its engine was powered, not by gas, but by the torments of the damned souls residing in the hellfire pocket dimension that substituted for the chainsaw's lack of a gas tank. The nun pulled the ripcord made from strands of Samson's hair, revving the holy chainsaw into action, and came running for Adam, laughing maniacally all the meanwhile.
Adam wasn't sure he felt like handling this blood fetishist up close and personal. Even an unhygienic slob like him had standards, so he held out his right arm. It split apart and he fired his nanoblade at the nun. The blade missed, however, and shot through the big window, killing the stained glass demon before it could even make its appearance, which would've saved Sir Daniel Fortesque a lot of time in his 5 hour game. (MediEvil is still a great game nonetheless.)
"Crud," said Adam, making sure to keep his language PG. He was in a church after all. He held out his left hand and shot his second and only other nanoblade, but this one also missed and flew out of the already broken window, penetrating a random civilian who made the Wilhelm scream for some reason.
"Your over-glorified box cutters won't save you now!" said the nun, gaining on him.
The thought of hygiene gave Adam a brilliant idea. As the nun came at him, he opened his mouth and belched a cloud of green gas at her face and she melted like that one Nazi from Indiana Jones, or alternatively like the Wicked Witch of the West if you want to keep your imagination PG. The crazy part was that his bad breath wasn't even an augment. That was just how bad his breath was naturally.
Now that he had killed a whole building's worth of combatants, adding to his already massive kill count that rivaled the size of a continent's population, he looted every valuable object, storing them in the pocket dimension of his ass, which would've saved the Dragonborn of Skyrim so much trouble, and then headed to the back doors.
As he opened them, however, he beheld a neighborhood burning in flames, just like the nun leader had prophesied. This was bad. He would be marked as criminal even more than he already was, and the people of London wouldn't forgive him for at least a week until the next overblown controversy surfaced on the news.
"Whelp, time to take refuge to Golem City. I hope it has as many golems as Minecraft."