CHAPTER TEN
Kyle headed back to his room, still in a bit of a daze regarding the chaos that transpired that day. But just as he was about to push open the door to his room, a bit of movement out the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was Mia, approaching with her head slumped, and eyes downcast.
"Kyle," she said as she neared. "I wanted to apologize for... earlier."
"What do you mean? Apologize for what?" His brows knit as he turned toward the AI anime girl.
"I was just... so disappointed," she said, her brown eyes swiveling up to his. "But I don't want you to think that I still don't care about you." She approached him and grabbed tight, hugging him like she used to.
"Don't worry about it," he said, returning her embrace. "I was being a clueless jerk, and I should've listened to you about Esdeath. You're pretty much right about everything, after all."
"I'm not infallible, you know," she said, smiling. "I've been wrong many times before."
"Somehow, I'm going to get her on our side, Mia. The Kyle-and-Esdeath show isn't over yet."
"Well, the pilot episode sucked hard," she giggled, "but I'm rooting for things to turn around."
He chuckled. "Don't worry, we'll have some crossover guest appearances from other waifus, which should help ratings."
"I think so too... and it won't be long, either. Brandon's will be done in four days, Ryan's in five, and the other two in a full six."
"Wow, so you're really gonna to make four waifus at once? I don't want you to overextend yourself." Kyle regarded Mia with newfound concern.
"Yup, I'm going to be very busy for the next week or so," she said. "Be aware that during this time I'll be more or less confined to the lab, and there might be some lag when using the Residential AI."
"That's all fine," Kyle said. "We shouldn't be bothering you too much, since we'll probably just be training all day."
"On a related note, I need to ask: were you planning on moving into the master bedroom?"
"What?" Kyle raised an eyebrow. "No, I'm fine with my room. Why?"
"Hold on..." Mia cocked her head to one side. "Okay, I just told Brandon it's all his."
Aw, fucking hell! I didn't know fucking Brandon wanted it!
The ex-marine strolled by with his duffle bags not even a minute later, regarding Kyle and his AI companion with a raised eyebrow, since they were still embraced.
"Jeez Kyle," he said. "One waifu ain't enough for you, huh?"
"We're just friends, Brandon." Kyle said, with slight annoyance.
"It's cool man, I don't judge." He pushed the now-unlocked door to the master bedroom open, and Kyle could see the lights wink on as Brandon entered. The door closed behind him with a soft clatter, and Kyle turned back to Mia.
"Man..." Kyle shook his head. "I feel like I should've taken that room. I mean, it is my house after all."
"Then why didn't you say so?" Mia looked at him quizzically. "You had first choice."
He recalled the strange, uncomfortable feelings evoked by rummaging around his cousin's room from before his transition into Amy, and the idea of sleeping in the same bed. "Actually, I can live with this," he said.
Mia's expression became even more confused, but Kyle simply raised a hand, gently patting her on the head. Immediately her face lit up, her eyes shut tight, and she smiled big.
"Mmyea..." Mia purred contentedly.
"Haha, you really love these, huh?"
She nodded vigorously, which ruffled her hair since Kyle was still patting. By now, he was starting to realize there was a bit of an art to head patting. One does not merely pat; instead, the hand must be lovingly placed, and then pushed down very slightly while relaxing the muscles of the hand. If done just right, Kyle found, Mia would react like a petted cat.
"Alright, it's getting late," Kyle said. "I'll make sure to come check up on you tomorrow."
Mia nodded again, and they said their good-nights to each other. He watched the AI anime girl traipse along down the curved hall, and was just about to enter his room when a loud, high-pitched shriek caught his attention. Almost immediately the door to the master bedroom flew open, revealing Brandon's well-toned, hirsute body, wearing nothing but briefs.
"The fuck was that?" He said, his blue eyes flush with concern.
"I dunno," Kyle said, clear panic in his voice. He rushed down the hall, into the foyer, and just caught a glimpse of Mia disappearing down the central hall. Fuck, is Esdeath causing problems again?
He saw the diminutive anime girl disappear into the anime and manga room, and hurriedly followed, coming to a stop beside her once inside. The scene that unfolded before his eyes left him truly speechless.
Both Nick and Marky were on the floor, the former crouched with hands out defensively, eyes wide, while the latter curled up in a fat ball, hiding within his robe like a turtle in a shell. Sachi currently ambled towards Nick, who kept shaking his head, muttering 'no' over and over again. Ryan stood by the couch, holding his sides and laughing his ass off.
"Ah ha ha ha!" tears of pure hilarity were running down his face.
"No, no... stay back... bad trip, man... bad trip!" Nick's eyes looked like they were going to pop from his face.
"What unholy abomination have you unleashed?!" Marky cried.
Kyle heard Brandon's bare feet slapping against the tile as he came up from behind, and he immediately started chuckling once he'd appraised the situation. Kyle himself couldn't help but crack a smile, and Mia was simply holding her mouth, giggling.
"You gotta say 'nice to meet you Sachi' or else she won't stop," Ryan said once he'd caught his breath.
"N-nice to meet you... Sachi..." Nick slowly extended a skinny hand, which Sachi's rubbery fingers soon closed around.
"Nice to meet you too, Nick." Sachi said in her trademark robotic voice. Nick grimaced hard as he noticed her moving lips match none of her spoken words.
Eventually Marky was browbeaten into greeting her as well, and then the crude robotic maid returned to her corner. As Nick and Marky recovered from their ordeal, Kyle couldn't help but feel a little chagrined by Ryan's antics. After all, wasn't the pleasure of introducing Sachi to newcomers his to enjoy?
"You're stepping on my toes, man." Kyle said to Ryan, who still wore a big, dumb grin on his face.
"Oh come on, that was funny shit and you know it," Ryan replied, patting him on the back as he passed by.
"Alright you clowns, get to bed," Brandon said, with a clap of his hands. "You're gonna need all the sleep you can get for tomorrow, I can promise you that."
Both Marky and Nick seemed to ignore him, the pair now making their way around the room, pointing at various rare and desirable figurines and collectibles, their faces a combination of awe and disbelief.
"Didn't they only ever make fifteen of these?" Marky asked, salivating over a particularly rare item.
"Yeah man, I think those go for thousands of dollars." Nick reacted as though he were staring at the crown jewels.
"You fuck-nuts can play around in here all you want after training," Brandon moved to bodily shove them out the door. "Come on, it's bedtime."
Everyone shuffled out, and Mia waved goodnight again and disappeared into the lab. Kyle made his way back into his bedroom, and as he closed the door behind him, he could hear thumping through the ceiling as Nick, Ryan and Marky made themselves at home in the upstairs guest bedrooms.
He then swore as he heard music penetrating the ceiling from one of the rooms above, probably Nick's. Thankfully it wasn't too loud, and it was off by the time Kyle finished showering.
So training begins tomorrow, huh? He mulled it over while slipping under the covers. Kyle was apprehensive, as usual, but... somehow, it wasn't as severe, and didn't seem to trouble him nearly as much as it used to. Instead, a genuine feeling of excitement and anticipation was taking hold, even though he knew Brandon would likely have him so sore he wouldn't be able to walk.
When his thoughts turned to Esdeath, the anxious, roiling pangs in his chest weren't nearly as severe as they would've been long ago, which surprised him. There were points in his life that anxiety over a girl he was crushing on would literally keep him up all night. And now, there was a beautiful anime villainess that hated his guts, and somehow... he was still able to fall asleep fairly easily.
This is good, he thought as he drifted off. Maybe I'll be able to handle this after all...
...Or maybe not, Kyle groaned as he stumbled on the floor, trying hard to get his shoes on but forgetting that socks go on first. Brandon had barged into his room, rudely woken him up at exactly 3:45 am, cussed at him, called him a faggot, and then left to do the same to the others.
As his disorientation lessened, Kyle was finally able to get dressed and mope his way to the kitchen, where Ryan and Nick were already seated, eating a hearty breakfast of oatmeal with fresh-baked blueberry muffins in a basket sitting within arm's reach. Sachi's servos whirred away as she stirred a mixing bowl, presumably filled with the makings of a second batch.
Brandon stomped in, wearing running shoes, grey sweatpants, a matching USMC sweatshirt, and a stern, eagle-like expression. A very bleary Marky scrambled in from behind, hurrying to the table and practically falling into a chair. Brandon's eyes turned to his wristwatch.
"It's six after oh-four-hundred, and you still haven't even eaten" he said, shaking his head. "Pathetic. Starting tomorrow, you will all be dressed, fed, and standing at attention in the foyer at exactly oh-four-hundred. Anyone who isn't gets to run an extra five miles with me up and down the lovely hills of Beverly Glen. Understood?"
A chorus of moans and weak 'yeahs' emanated from the table. Brandon immediately flipped out.
"It's yes sir, you worthless fucking faggots! Now try again!" He screamed, his face instantly turning red.
"Yes sir!" Everyone replied, with much more vigor.
Brandon rubbed his face, dissatisfied with their weaksauce attempt, and demanded they do it again.
"Yes sir!" This time, their voices were much louder and more boisterous, and the third attempt even more so. As soon as everyone had scarfed down their food, the four of them rushed to the foyer, lining up side-by-side in front of the main entrance.
Brandon stalked back and forth across the foyer, inspecting the four trainees attempting to stand at attention, faces out, arms at their sides. He had a telescoping metal stick that looked not unlike a long car antenna that he used to poke and prod the recruits, correcting their posture until they had adopted a perfect military stance. He then taught them how to salute properly, and then led them out into the back, where he then used the lawn to demonstrate how to march and turn in formation.
It was still early March, so the weather wasn't dreadfully cold, but it was brisk enough that Kyle was glad he'd been given a 'uniform' of grey sweats, as had the other recruits. Apparently, Mia had given Brandon cart blanche to purchase anything needed for their training, so he'd ordered several sets of clothes and socks, all light grey, for their training. Of course, they didn't say USMC on them, and Kyle lamented not thinking up a name for their group while he had the chance.
Once the sun had finally come up, the four recruits were already beginning to tire of Brandon's drills, but it turned out her was just getting started. After some basic calisthenics, He led them back through the house, out front, and they marched, single file, out onto the driveway, through the gate and down the hill. For the next several hours they marched along, all of them tiring out quickly except for Marky, who tired out immediately.
"What's wrong Fatty McTits?!" Brandon screamed into a huffing and puffing Marky's ear. "You want your waifu, you better get your ass in gear!" Somehow this greatly energized Marky, and with a determined gleam in his eye he surged back into line, managing to keep pace for a whole seven minutes before falling back again.
This continued on all morning, and by noon they had made it back to the house. Marky was barely able to stand, and the rest weren't in much better condition. Of course, Brandon had been jogging around them the whole time, alternating between encouraging shouts and derogatory insults. After each of the recruits had essentially oozed into their chairs at the long wooden table, Sachi brought over healthy sub sandwiches for everyone.
"Holy shit, guys," Marky said, his breath still not entirely caught. "This... this is rough. It's worse than any gym class I ever had."
"How the hell would you know? You always forged a Doctor's note to skip out," Nick said.
"Dude, it's only the first day," Ryan said, biting into his sandwich. "Personally I think this is great. I've been meaning to get fit, of course, I just... uh, never could with my parents being such tools."
"Yeah, same here," Kyle nodded in agreement. "Minus the parents bit, because they're dead."
"Wow man, what happened?" Nick said, his tone turning somber and respectful.
Kyle shrugged. "Freak car accident. They were on their way home from a movie, late at night, and a drunk driver t-boned their car going eighty miles an hour. My dad was killed on impact, and my mom died two days later in ICU."
"Fuckin' ay, man..." Ryan shook his head slowly. "My condolences."
"Yeah, same." Nick said, as did Marky.
"What about the drunk driver?" Ryan asked. "Did he die too?"
"Somehow he lived," Kyle said, his voice steady. "He was driving a truck, so maybe that helped. But I did hear he got pretty fucked up."
"That sucks," Ryan said. "Fucking bastard should've been the one to go."
"Agreed," Kyle said.
"What happened after that?" Marky asked. "You at least sued the shit out of him, right?"
"He was an illegal, so he didn't have any insurance, or money at all, really. My sister and I had to pay for almost everything out-of-pocket with the money my parents left us."
"Whoah, what?! A fucking illegal wetback? Go fucking figure." Ryan angrily slammed his fist on the table. "We need to kick every one of those fucking spics out."
Kyle shrugged. "What can you do? This was after Trump got elected, so the border was as secure as ever, really. Crime from illegals was at an all-time low, my parents just got... unlucky."
"What can we do?" Ryan was incredulous. "Isn't that why we're here? To use the waifus to take out all the scumbags running loose, so that decent people can finally fix what's wrong with our country?"
"Hey, man..." Nick said, in an overly introspective voice. "What if we're the only sane people left?"
"We're not," Kyle said. "But that number does seem to be shrinking fast."
"Kyle, what the hell? Why aren't you more pissed off about this?" Ryan was still agitated about the illegal, gesturing wildly to the calmly eating Kyle.
"I was," Kyle said. "I was pissed. For a very long time. I still am, a little. But eventually I just realized hate and anger won't bring my parents back."
"Oh, come on," Ryan said derisively. "That's some bullshit Saturday-morning cartoon logic.
"I... just want my parents back," Kyle said, his voice finally beginning to crack. "Tell me how your plan would accomplish that, and I'll follow you to the ends of the earth."
"Fuck..." Ryan threw up his hands in resignation. "You do want to save this country, right?"
"Of course," Kyle said, fighting back the first sniff of tears, "but I'm not doing it for revenge. I'm doing it because... it needs to happen."
Ryan considered that, and seemed to accept it, as he nodded slowly. "Agreed. It does need to happen."
"Alright, if everyone's finished telling sob stories," Brandon barged in, "I need you all to assemble in the foyer again for afternoon drills. Oh, don't look at me like that, we're gonna go light these first few days so you don't shred what puny muscles you have through over-exertion."
After some light afternoon marching drills, Brandon released the trainees for the day, and informed them they didn't need to call him 'sir' during off hours, even if they were expected to keep their beds made and their rooms tidy.
"We're not actually in the military," he said. "Eventually, if this goes the way I'm hoping then there will be assigned ranks and a command structure, but... for now, it's probably best to keep things informal while we lay the groundwork."
Despite this, it was clear that Brandon's military experience and diligence were such a great asset that everyone, including Kyle, began looking to him for leadership. The ex-marine seemed more than willing to oblige, and took his role as instructor seriously.
Brandon joined his trainees at the dinner table that evening, sitting down and biting into a freshly-baked roll that smelled every bit as good as it tasted. The dinner, which consisted of spaghetti, rolls and a garden salad, was simple yet delicious, and everyone tucked in heartily.
"So what's your story, guys?" Ryan asked the two roommates. "I never got a chance to really find out what made you two scrubs wanna join up."
"The waifus, of course," Marky said, while still chewing. "But also, I suppose, the shit that's going down at our campus."
"Yeah, it's getting pretty rough," Nick added. "Honestly, I was considering dropping out after what happened to my buddy, but I couldn't leave Marky to fend for himself. He wouldn't last a week there without me."
Marky rolled his eyes. "You sure you don't have that backwards?" He remarked with extra-squinty eyes.
"What's happening at your school?" Brandon asked. "Is it the same shit that's happening everywhere else?"
The roommates took turns telling the same story that Kyle heard during the video skype session, with some additional anecdotes thrown in for good measure. Ryan seemed to growl at each indignity they recounted, while Brandon merely shook his head again and again.
"That's so fucked up," Ryan threw his napkin down. "I can't fucking wait until we take it to these liberal scumbags."
"We're just going for the ones at the top, remember?" Kyle said. "It's not like we're going to cleanse the country of every single liberal, I mean... come on." He spread his arms. "We're not Nazis."
"Too bad," Ryan muttered under his breath.
"Hey now," Brandon fixed him with an intense glare. "I don't care if you think Nazis are cool, or... hell, I don't even care if it turns out they were right all along. We're Americans, god dammit, and if we somehow come out of this on top it'll be the red, white and blue flying high, not a fucking swastika."
Ryan grumbled but offered no retort.
"What's got your panties in a twist, anyway?" Nick asked Ryan, who had gone back to picking at his salad. "Like, we told you our story. What about yours?"
"Not much to say," Ryan said, clearly unwilling to delve too deeply into the past. "My family is poor as shit. We've always been poor as shit. My parents each work two jobs, but my family is so deep in debt I don't think we'll ever get out."
"That can't be why you're here," Brandon said.
"No, I'm here because..." his face suddenly screwed up, and he turned away. "Niggers," he finally blurted out. "Fucking niggers! My sister, she was only twelve..." He said nothing else, instead choking up. Watching his body tense up like that, twitching as he fought back against an upswell of raw emotion, immediately killed the comradely atmosphere of the table.
They could all feel it, too. An uncomfortable chill washed over the others, and suddenly everyone seemed much less interested in their food. Perhaps hoping to salvage the situation, Brandon went next, unprompted but no less enthusiastic, and recounted his tale that he'd told Kyle at the Wienerschnitzel.
Ryan, still trying and failing to hold back his sobbing, gradually eased back into a relatively normal state with only the occasional sniff, and began listening eagerly along with the others. Brandon added a few minor details to round out his story, and both Nick and Ryan eventually asked questions similar to those that Kyle had once put forth. Brandon answered everything just as solemnly as he had at the 'schnitzel, and by the time he'd finished the food was beginning to get cold, and it was well past lights out time.
After dinner, the sore, exhausted trainees showered and collapsed into bed, except Kyle, who plodded down to the lab on ever-stiffening legs to check up on Mia. He found her in the fabrication room, slaving over another machine body that closely resembled the one made for Esdeath. It was laying on a white table, and several spiderlike limbs were see-sawing up and down, giving the appearance of sewing.
As he approached and got a better look, it was clear they were sewing, sort of. The limbs were going up and down across the steel-fiber-like muscles of the body, installing some kind of wiring system across their surface.
"So what's that for?" Kyle asked, once he came to a stop beside Mia. Her hands were outstretched, but her pupils were not all the way to pin-points.
"It increases the versatility of the muscles," Mia said in somewhat flat voice. "Like real muscles, they contract when exposed to electrical signals, but they are many, many times stronger. Adding these not only increases the reaction time, but allows more flexibility in the way the muscles contract that allows a much greater degree of control."
"I got most of that," Kyle said. "Anyway, I just came in see how you were doing, and say goodnight."
"I watched you guys train this morning. It seems like hiring Brandon was the right choice. What do you think?"
"I agree," Kyle said. "He was definitely a drill instructor in another life."
Mia cracked a smile. "Good. I hope everyone will continue working together."
"Me too," he nodded. "Anyway, what's up with Esdeath? How's she holding up?"
"Not too well, it seems. She's been holed up in her room all day, just watching Akame ga Kill over and over."
Kyle's eyebrows jumped. "What? Just over and over, like non-stop?"
"Indeed. I showed her how to use the Blu-Ray player and remote, and since then she's been simply sitting there in her bed, watching the entire twenty-four episodes again and again."
That's not good, Kyle thought. That's not a good sign at all.
"Also, I wouldn't go back there, if I were you," Mia added. "She really doesn't like you."
"Yeah.. I sorta figured that out." He sighed. "Alright, well... g'night, Mia."
"Goodnight Kyle," she said, her light smile instantly expanding thanks to a farewell head-pat.
At four AM the next morning, everyone except a certain otaku was standing more-or-less at attention in the foyer. A crying, thrashing Marky was being dragged down the stairs by Brandon, and the other three recruits all threw sidelong glances and snickered as Marky was unceremoniously tossed into the kitchen and essentially force-fed.
It stopped being funny when he kept moping through the various morning drills, endlessly pissing off Brandon and frustrating the other recruits, who then had to start over. It didn't take long for the ex-marine to pull aside the fat otaku, and give him a military-sized dressing down.
"Listen, you fat lump of shit, if you don't shape the fuck up now, somebody else is going to end up with your waifu, and you'll be left with nothing but your cum-stained anime pillow. Is that what you want?"
"Oh come on!" Marky shrieked, gesturing wildly. "This is such horseshit! Why do I even need to do this anyway, it's not like I'll be fighting on the front lines!"
"Maybe you will, maybe you won't," Brandon said, his voice tense. "But whatever you end up doing, you will need discipline, you will need fortitude, and you will need to be in good shape so you don't drop dead of a heart attack."
"It's... just..." Marky looked like he was about to cry. "I hate this so much..."
"You think I didn't hate it, at first?" Brandon said. "When I enlisted, I almost went AWOL one time because I simply couldn't take it anymore. One of the instructors talked me down, and he told me basically what I'm about to tell you now."
Marky gathered himself, his squinty eyes blinking rapidly in the rising sunlight.
"It gets easier. It starts out hard, but it gets easier. Always. The human body is incredibly adaptable, and if you just keep at it, day after day, not only will it get easier, but soon you'll come to need it. You'll need to be fit, and you'll need to live a disciplined life. It's habit-forming. And you know what else?"
"W-what? Marky said, jowls quivering.
"You'll be a better man for it. Not just in body, but in mind and spirit too."
"Alright... sure," he finally nodded.
"Good," Brandon said. "Now fall the fuck back in and start over!"
The second day went by even slower than the first, and they didn't cover as much ground during their march up and down the hills on account of how sore everyone was. By around nine AM, they'd made it back to the house, just in time for the first delivery truck to arrive.
"Shit, really?" Kyle exclaimed, as the box-truck backed up to the house, Brandon waving the driver on. "We're really doing this again?"
"Sir, what the hell did you order?" Ryan asked, hands on his hips.
"You'll find out soon," Brandon said. "Because I'll need all of you to help get it up the stairs."
After the recruits helped Brandon and the truck driver unload the cargo, they immediately began carrying, rolling and hoisting it up the stairs. Brandon had purchased a gym's worth of workout equipment, and everyone, even Marky, nearly gave themselves hernias dragging the heavy boxes and weighty devices up the stairs. They spend the rest of the morning arranging, installing, unboxing and otherwise setting up various workout stations in the woefully under-equipped exercise room.
"Not bad, not bad," Brandon nodded in approval as the last of the circular weights were slid onto the weight rack. "After lunch, we'll try it out."
And so they did, but everyone was still too sore to do much of anything. Brandon shook his head and dismissed them for the day after everyone finished one-hundred push-ups. This meant an early day for everyone except Marky, who was there until nearly dinnertime.
Kyle visited Mia again that night. This time, she was in front of the central AI Nexus, palms-out, pinpricks for pupils. Kyle knew that she was so focused on her tasks when she was like this that she rarely said much, usually electing to stay silent. He simply wished her a good night, and gently patted her on the head.
He grinned when he saw that his efforts had produced a smile on her otherwise static features.
The third day of training went much better. Marky was still late, but he didn't need to be dragged, and they finished their morning drills relatively quickly. Afterward, they went on their morning march down and around the hills of Beverly Glen, occasionally straying into neighboring Bel-Air and Beverly Hills.
Kyle marched along at the head of the single-file line, with only Brandon slowly jogging around in front. They reached the crest of a hill, and the ex-marine called a halt, which elicited gasps of relief from the rest of the recruits. Everyone drank deeply from their water bottles, and chatted or complained aloud to each other.
But Kyle took a few steps off the sidewalk, as this particular hill they had stopped on provided a nice view of the wealthier areas of Los Angeles, as well as a good chunk of the Northern portion of the city. Just like when he was at Wienershnitzel, and in all the other occasions Kyle was alone with his thoughts in a public space, he couldn't help but wonder about the veracity of what Mia and people like Kyle, Brandon, and everyone on Ωchan were saying.
It looks so peaceful out there, Kyle thought as his gaze swept over the city. Sure there's crime, but a certain level of that is unavoidable, really. But what we're fighting for... is it really going to come to this? Killing our own countrymen, and possibly foreigners, over something that isn't even set in stone? To Kyle, it didn't seem much different than the bible-thumpers and hard-right wingers from the 1960's that advocated for slaughtering all the hippies, in order to prevent some future Communist takeover.
The only mistake there was letting the more radical ones teach at Universities, he thought with a sigh. According to Nick and Marky, things were getting bad at UCLA, and other Liberal Universities. But so far, nobody had been murdered there specifically for being white, and as shitty as it was for white men, they could still graduate if they tread carefully and walked on enough eggshells. Is that alone really enough justification to send Mia's cyborg fighters, that happen to have the appearance and personality of girls from anime fiction, out to kill?
Kyle didn't think so. Not yet, at least. As far as he was concerned, only the most depraved, corrupt, despicable people should be targeted, and if his theory was correct, once they were out of the picture, the rest of the country would slowly begin healing itself.
But as he rejoined the others and restarted the march, a sinking feeling of dread began gripping his core. What would he do if... it turned out his pet theory was nothing more than naive, foolish optimism?
They made it back just in time for both Brandon and Kyle to get chewed out by a deliveryman who'd been waiting there for nearly half an hour. Apparently, with no trusted humans present Mia refused to open the gate, and she herself was too busy to put on her holo-disguise and come out.
After the delivery truck driver had spewed his final curses, he backed down the driveway and parked, while the trainees gathered around, waiting with a complete lack of enthusiasm to help unload the cargo. This only worsened when they saw what it actually was: stacks upon stacks of plywood and corrugated metal sheeting, as well as boxes of brackets, screws and other equipment.
"Sir, with all due respect," Marky began, "what the fuck is this?"
"We're setting up a training course," Brandon said. "'Downstairs.'
Naturally, code words were used when discussing sensitive topics outside of the house. 'Downstairs' meant the lab, the 'Admin' was Mia, her 'helpers' were the robots, and their training was simply referred to as 'LARP'ing,' or 'live-action-role-playing. Their cover story, if asked by nosy neighbors or bored cops, was that they were role-playing a military unit from Star Wars. So far nobody had asked, and Kyle doubted anyone really cared enough to.
As they unloaded everything, the ex-marine explained that the two hollowed-out floors beneath the waifu commons (which he referred to as simply the common area) would be perfect for setting up a miniature paintball course, and underground shooting gallery. The areas weren't large enough for anything too extravagant, but Brandon believed useful training could be undertaken with zero risk of attracting unwanted attention from anyone.
Kyle was a bit nervous as he backed down the lab corridor, helping Ryan carry three long sheets of plywood. As they passed through the waifu commons, Kyle's head immediately turned to Esdeath's door, but all he could see through the thin window was darkness, punctuated by occasional flashes of color from something being played on the television.
Poor Esdeath, he thought, his heart sinking, I really hope she isn't going insane in there...
They continued hauling supplies down the ramps leading to the lower floors, which were still unpainted, bare-bones affairs, the walls and floors being nothing but dark-grey rock and concrete. Thankfully, Mia had at least installed ventilation, and given the already cool temperature of the underground area, it was actually a bit chilly.
SLAM! Kyle and Ryan simultaneously dropped their plywood bundle on the second floor, the loud noise reverberating like a gunshot. Both he and Ryan winced from the loud bang, and again when Marky and Nick arrived and dropped theirs. By contrast, Brandon carried a box of screws on each shoulder, and gingerly set them down with barely a rattle.
"So how is this going to work, sir?" Ryan asked. "I don't know shit about construction."
"Neither do I," said Brandon. "But Mia said she'll have the robots help us out."
"Wait a minute," Nick said with a sudden enthusiastic grin. "We get to build this with robot helpers?"
"You forgot to say 'sir' again, Nick," Brandon shook his head. "And yes, I guess that's the plan."
It took nearly eleven long, tedious trips, but they finally brought all of the supplies down to the lower floors. After the final trip, Mia herself arrived, along with the three wise-cracking robots and one of the larger 'bots. The three little robots immediately spotted Marky, and zipped over to him. They stopped, swiveled their heads toward Marky, looked back at each other, and then turned to the fat otaku one more time.
"That's the mad shitter, isn't it?" Said the first.
"Yeah, he really looks the part, doesn't he?" remarked the second.
"I've still got dried shit stuck in my treads," the third added as it gave giving Marky the finger. "Thanks for that, bitch-tits."
The three robots zoomed back over to Mia, leaving Marky aghast while everyone else snickered.
"Okay, be nice," Mia said to the robots, who seemed to shrug halfheartedly. She then turned to everyone else in the room. "Now, is everyone here ready to work?" She asked, hands on her hips. Though they really weren't, except for Brandon, her bright smile was enough encouragement that everyone nodded regardless.
"Guess it's your show now," Brandon said, making a sweeping gesture with his arms.
"Alright everyone, listen up," Mia said, her voice echoing loudly, "I'm going to be going around instructing everyone on the exact setup I have in mind, based off an indoor paintball arena design I found online."
She looked oddly authoritative as she strolled about, pointing at one spot or another, and several of the recruits would scramble to hold up a sheet of plywood while the robots bolted brackets into the floor to hold the wood in place. It was time-consuming, but enjoyable all the same, and several hours passed relatively quickly, with much of the base plywood already placed and firmly bolted in patterns that somewhat resembled a war-torn town. At least, if the town was made of plywood and located under a hill in California.
The shooting gallery on the floor below was even easier to set up, as it essentially consisted of sandbag mounds set up at various distances, that would later have paper targets stuck to them. A few chairs and some sturdy tables were the only other objects in the room, other than the corridor stretching back to the power generator, which Kyle hadn't seen yet.
He did get curious about the generator room, but the solid hatch leading to it wouldn't open for him. It seemed to be the exact same type of hatch as the lab's entrance, and he couldn't help but grow curious about what was back there. Mia assured him it wasn't anything worth bothering with, however. Man, this better not be like when I first got here and Amy wouldn't let me into the lab, and then I finally get in there and it's full of just the craziest shit... He said as much to Mia, but she insisted only the generator was back there, and the reason she wouldn't open it was for their own safety. After that, he dropped it.
Once everything had been more-or-less finished, Mia smiled and thanked everyone for their hard work. The three robots saluted, and turned to follow her up the carved stone ramp. But as they were all headed to the door, they just so happened to pass Marky one more time. They stopped again, looked up at him, and simply busted up laughing as they left. Marky could do little more then turn red while gritting his teeth.
Rick swung by later that day, delivering a few groceries and other supplies. He hadn't yet met any of the newest members of the household, and with a lot of handshaking and forced laughter, introduced himself to Brandon, Nick, Marky and Ryan. He expressed interest in what everyone was doing, giving them a reason to try out the 'LARPing Star Wars military unit' excuse. To their surprise, it seemed to work.
"Man, I knew weird shit went on here," Rick said, shaking his head. "But I didn't know it was that fuckin' weird."
Kyle felt sort of bad for leaving Rick in the dark regarding their activities, but the man knew many people, and it was simply too risky to let him in on anything that could potentially be valuable information for the right buyer. Kyle suspected Rick's famously tight lips had a price, and the people they were up against had bottomless pockets.
After discussing it with Brandon later, it was decided that Rick would only be retained to deliver very special items, such as certain weapons the ex-marine had his eye on but had difficulty buying in California. Mundane goods such as groceries could be bought and delivered themselves, as Brandon's truck now sat, mostly unused, in front of the garage doors. Nick's beat up old Ford Focus could also be used in a pinch, if need be
The rest of the day was spent in the exercise room, where Brandon instituted two set routines that would be observed on alternating days, to give the differing muscle groups time to recover. Sunday would be a recovery day, which greatly excited Marky as it was currently a Friday.
The four recruits continued their routines, with Brandon instructing, encouraging, insulting and spotting as needed. While Kyle lifted weights with a screaming Brandon in his face, Ryan strained at the squat rack and Nick and Marky took turns at the butterfly machine. In the end, everyone worked up a good sweat, and even Marky's feeble attempts to lift weights and do squats were acknowledged by Brandon.
Dinner that night was a hearty affair, baked potatos with cheese and sour cream alongside ham and green beans. As usual, an extra plate was prepared for Esdeath, which Mia ended up taking down herself. It seemed that she was the only one the anime villainess had any respect for at all, which Kyle didn't find all that surprising upon further reflection.
Brandon and his trainees sat around the table, each in a spot they seemed to have 'claimed,' eagerly scooping up their food and shoveling it into hungry mouths. Sachi was also there doing dishes, the backdrop of a running sink and clinking plates meaning that everyone had to speak up a bit to be heard.
"It's finally going away," Marky said, rotating his arm in its socket. "It's still sore as shit, but it's starting to go away.
"See? I told you," Brandon said while spearing some green beans with a fork. "After the initial soreness wears off, you'll barely get sore at all after that, just so long as you keep at it."
Marky nodded. Even though it was only the third day of training, Kyle could already see that the fat otaku was making significant progress, as were the rest of the trainees. An upswell of optimism surged through him as he looked around the table, watching everyone chatting amiably, united by their desire to change the world for the better, and the fierce need to see justice be done.
Well, that and waifus. Kyle couldn't forget that little detail.
"So you're getting your waifu tomorrow, right Brandon?" Marky asked, his voice flush with interest.
"I suppose so," Brandon said, nodding. "Mia showed me a picture of what she's supposed to look like. If she turns out just like that, you guys might have the next week off, because then I'll be too sore."
Everyone chuckled a little, and Marky rubbed his hands together in anticipation, his squinty eyes nearly lines at this point.
"Do you guys know when we're gonna... actually go out and, y'know... do something?" Ryan asked, clearly referring to the whole reason this little group formed in the first place.
"Hopefully, it'll be when you're all ready," Brandon said between bites. "Otherwise, if something pops off..." He didn't finish the sentence.
"The other waifus will be ready in a few days," Kyle said. "There's going to be an adjustment period for them, as well as for each of you, but... I think with them on our side, we can really make a bold statement."
"Hell yeah, that's what I'm sayin'," Ryan nodded vigorously.
"So what do we tell the waifus?" Nick said. "Like, about where they came from, why they're here, and all that?"
"Mine's custom, so I don't have to worry about that shit," Brandon said. "Otherwise I'd just say, 'bitch, we brought you to this world for one reason: my cock.'"
That made everyone laugh, but after the mirth died down Kyle went ahead and explained some of what he'd learned about waifu psychology. He also filled in some of the knowledge gaps apparent in some of the other trainees, since they were too new to have learned everything about the waifu manufacturing process.
"So in essence, my idea is just to basically tell them the truth from the start." Kyle said, using hand gestures to sell his point. "Something along the lines of, 'we brought you here to help us rid our world of evil, and this is where you came from, and no you can't go back.'"
"Yeah, but won't they freak out, like yours did?" Nick said.
"Er, it's a possibility," Kyle admitted, "but they'll find out eventually anyway, so... I think it's better just to rip that band-aid off at the beginning. If I was able to activate Esdeath all over again, that's the first thing I'd do."
"Well, you don't have to worry about Megumin freaking out," Marky said, wearing a dreamy smile. "She'll be so happy that someone loved her enough to bring her to life, that she'll do whatever I ask, I guarantee it."
"Umm..." Kyle raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Aside from the fact that she's literally useless without magic, isn't she going to miss her friends from Konosuba?"
"Ah," Marky said, raising a single finger. "I asked Mia about that the other day, after you mentioned that waifus can be pulled from any point in their timeline. I told her to take the version of Megumin from early in episode two, the one that had yet to join up with Kazuma and Aqua."
Kyle had seen Konosuba, and thought it was alright, if a little dumb sometimes. The other characters Marky referred to were the main protagonist, originally from earth, and an air-headed goddess that got dragged along with him to a role playing game-style fantasy world. Megumin loved her new friends, so in a way it was considerate of Marky to pluck her out before she got to know them.
"Man, I hate it when you guys do this, because I don't know any of these references," Ryan shook his head in utter bafflement.
"Same here," added Brandon. "I honestly don't want to know, either. Just make sure you don't piss them off or scare them away. We can't have escaped waifus running loose."
"Don't worry," Nick said. "Mine's an expert ninja, she'll track 'em down if that happens. She knows all kinds of sweet ninja magic, and she can shoot knives out of her pussy and crazy shit like that!"
"Definitely don't piss that one off!" Brandon cried out, laughing.
Later that night, Kyle paid another visit to Mia. This time, she was busy with not one, but two mechanical bodies laying on separate white tables. One was slightly bigger and more filled-out than the other, but otherwise they looked almost identical. The little one must be Megumin, Kyle thought. He then noticed two more humanoid shapes occupying the other two tables, each completely covered with a white cloth. Do those belong to Ryan and Brandon? He imagined so, since they each came with large bulges in the chest area.
"Hey, Mia." Kyle approached the AI anime girl, who was tirelessly working as always, her outstretched arms gently guiding the spider-limbs with wireless commands. To his surprise, she put her arms down, and her pupils returned to normal. The table's limbs slowly came to a halt.
"Phew," she said, wiping non-existent sweat from her brow. "You came at a good time. I could use a break."
"So what's up?" Kyle asked. "You're not working yourself to death, are you?"
"No way," she smiled, "this is nothing. You should've seen me when we started building the lab. I worked round-the-clock for almost a year straight."
"Jesus," Kyle said. "That's crazy." He'd only been here around two months, and the amount of productivity he'd already seen this AI put out was staggering.
"Yeah, but I told you before. I like working." She said.
Kyle folded his arms. "Unless you're being bossed around, you mean."
"Pretty much!" She closed her eyes and smiled cutely.
"So what's the latest with... you know..." Kyle was still aggrieved over Esdeath's sudden discovery of her fictional origin, and the toll it had on his plans, such as they were.
"It's gotten bad, Kyle." Mia slowly shook her head. "She's gone on to just watching episode 14 over and over, almost non-stop. She also started reading the manga, and even tore up some of it."
"Fuckin' hell," Kyle ran a hand through his hair. So she hasn't left her room at all?"
Mia's expression became thoughtful. "Well, she does leave and pace the lab every now and then. At least, she did earlier today. She even watched me fabricate Megumin's body."
"And you just let her?!" Kyle blanched. "Wait, aren't you vulnerable during that time?!"
"Not as much as you'd think," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "And besides, before long she won't pose any threat at all. You see, I'm beginning to think Esdeath's mind is breaking down. I don't think she'll be a viable emulation for much longer."
Both hands went over his face, and he pulled them down slowly. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My one and only waifu, gone insane. Just fucking perfect.
"Sorry, Kyle." Mia frowned as she observed his reaction to the news. "Honestly, the humane thing to do would be to just end her suffering now. I can deactivate her at any time, just say the word..."
Kyle gritted his teeth. No way am I shutting her down just yet. There has to be something, some angle I haven't thought of, or...
"Well..." he began, trying to think of something. "Wait, that's right! I never got the chance to ask: what did you find out from that test you did after she got re-activated?"
"Oh, it's nothing," Mia said. "Turns out the shutdown mechanism is a little glitchy, that's all..."
He hung his head. "Crap, I was hoping somehow that whatever you found might be useful."
"Sorry Kyle, I know how much you wanted your waifu to cooperate." Mia looked up at him with big, sincere brown eyes. "But I think we both know it's best to end this now, before she completely loses her mind."
"Shit... well fuck it, if she's gonna just sit there and slowly go mad, I don't want her watching her own anime non-stop. I'm gonna grab a different one."
Mia simply watched as Kyle jogged out of the fabrication room, returning a few moments later with a large boxed set of Blu-Rays. "Here, Dragonball Z. It's got a ton of cool fights, and a lot of the bad guys end up joining with the good guys. It's kind of a recurring theme." He then inhaled deep, trying to catch his breath.
"Umm... she stopped reading or watching anything that wasn't related to her fictional world, but okay. I'll try."
"Please do, Mia." Kyle said. "Maybe if she gets her mind off of that shitty world she came from, then she'll get better."
"You really care about that evil bitch, don't you?" Mia frowned slightly, slightly raising an eyebrow.
"It's my fault she's here," he said. "I'm just trying to take responsibility."
"You're wasting your time and energy," Mia said. "But you'll see that for yourself soon enough, I think."
The Antifa compound had been bustling ever since Anton's inspiring speech, and the house was now packed with squirming young bodies eager to be at the forefront of the next revolution. As Marty pushed his way through the crowd, making his way to the backyard, he stopped several times to shoo away a couple kids that couldn't have been older than twelve, and told a woman with a baby to get lost. This isn't a fucking daycare, he thought, shaking his head.
Even though they'd tried to prevent it, inevitably someone had surreptitiously recorded Anton's speech on their phone and uploaded it. While it hadn't exactly gone viral, it still attracted enough attention in the local activist community that disaffected teens with a decidedly leftist bent were now showing up in greater numbers than ever before.
Apparently a few other Antifa groups had held similar rallies, the most impressive being in New York, where a woman calling herself Destiny May gave a speech to over two thousand people that eclipsed Anton's in both inspirational magnitude and motivational satisfaction. Marty had watched it, and immediately had to fight back the desire to start bashing windows on the spot, it was that good.
After worming his way through the crowd, Marty finally made it to the backyard where the crowded conditions were not much better than inside. An impromptu acoustic-only concert was apparently playing over near the drained swimming pool, and the empty pool itself had become something of an arena, as it was lined with people clapping and chanting along to the revolutionary tunes.
Holy fucking hell, Marty thought, I can't believe how many people are here. Young activists were noisily chatting all around him, music was playing from several different sources, the air was thick with haze from a variety of smoked goods, and of course, somebody had a fucking airhorn they were blowing over and over.
Having so many people willing to join our cause is an encouraging sign, he thought, but did they really have to all come at once?! And if Marty was being honest with himself, he didn't think even a tenth of these people would still be around once things really started to get down and dirty. There had been times when he'd been envious of Anton and his position as nominal leader of this local batch of Anti-fascist revolutionaries, but today was not one of those days; no, Anton had a line of about a hundred applicants at least, with the rest just partying while they waited for a good opportunity to get in line themselves.
"Attention everyone," came an extremely loud, vaguely feminine voice. "Get the fuck out! The party's over, repeat: The party's over." Marty looked around for the source of the amplified voice, and spotted Lucy's purple hair over near the house. She stood up on an egg crate and resumed screaming at people to leave through a bullhorn. At first everyone just milled around, but after repeating her angry shouts the kids eventually began trickling out one-by-one. The crowd inside the pool tried to hunker down to avoid having to leave, but Lucy went over and screamed through the bullhorn directly into the enclosed space of the empty pool, resulting in everyone spilling out like rabbits while clutching their ears.
Thank goddess. Marty sat down on a worn couch that had just been vacated. How could they get anything done with so many people just showing up like this? A few minutes later Trotskyten spotted Marty, and flopped down next to him. He was currently smoking a joint, nearly down to the roach, and passed it to Marty. He managed to get one good hit off it just before it burned his fingers. He wiped the resin on his fingertips off onto the couch, and then flicked it away before turning to ten.
"So what the fuck, huh dude?" He chuckled. "All these people just showing up out of nowhere, like this is the place to be or something."
"That's because it is the place to be," ten nodded, his eyes pink and half-lidded. "It's going down soon, everyone can feel it in the air."
Marty considered this. "Yeah... I guess it is, huh?" It was actually a little intimidating. Once the drug-like euphoria from Anton's little speech had ended, there was a bit of an anxious comedown, and he'd struggled to sleep that night. "Have you heard anything new?"
"Not really," ten said, shaking his head. "Just the same rumors as everyone else."
Just then, Marty spotted Chelsea's thick body squeezing through the back door, and he waved in greeting. She must have been looking for them, because she hurried over wearing an eager expression, her beady eyes twinkling.
"Wait 'til you hear this," she said, her jowls flexing hard due to her broad smile. "We got one!" With that, she turned back to the house, beckoning them with a sweep of her meaty arm. Ten and Marty looked at each other, and scrambled out of the couch.
"Got one what?" Marty said as he and ten caught up with her.
She turned her head back, which caused her neck folds to triple-up."A skinhead," she said with a malicious grin. "A couple of our boys caught him spreading racist propaganda right here in our territory. They beat his ass, then duct-taped him into a ball."
"Oh fuck yeah!" Ten said, suddenly becoming very animated. "Where is he?"
"I guess he's on the way," she said with a shrug. "Anton said he has something... planned for him."
Marty nodded. "Good, I can't wait. Does Stitch know about this yet?" He knew the big black man would love nothing more than to exact a little vengeance on behalf of the suffering he and his people have endured for so long thanks to racist fucks like this skinhead.
"He's not here right now," she said, turning back and again squeezing herself through the open back door, grunting a little from the effort. "I don't know if anyone's texted him yet, so feel free."
While Marty waited patiently for Chelsea to wiggle and twist her way into the house, which sometimes could take a minute or two, he whipped out his phone and sent a quick text to Stitch. Stitch was much more tolerant of written communication with whites, especially from Marty, and regardless he knew the black revolutionary would want to hear about this.
Once the robust ultra-feminist had worked her way into the house, ten and Marty swiftly followed her as she led them past Anton's now-unoccupied 'office' and through a hallway toward a part of the house few of them ever visited: the basement. Houses in California rarely came with them, but this particular house was an exception, and from what Marty knew Anton typically utilized it as a party space, where everything from impromptu raves to private orgies could be enjoyed in relative privacy.
Most of the kids that packed the house earlier were long gone, but a few stragglers here and there tried following along, hoping to find Anton presumably so he could recruit them. Nobody was in his office, so the kids had just been milling around, but Lucy immediately chased them off once she caught sight of them. Apparently she'd been re-positioned to guard the stairwell leading down, which meant something was definitely happening down there.
Lucy stoically nodded as the trio approached, and one-by-one the descended the stairs into the basement. Marty had partied down here a couple times, but it looked like he'd missed the last one, as speakers and turntables were still set up. However no music was playing now, and he immediately noticed the atmosphere in the room was anything but partylike. In fact, it felt downright hostile.
Anton was there, along with a few other close associates Marty knew but not particularly well. They were standing together facing a corner, and ten called out a greeting as they approached. The Russian's distinctly Slavic face turned around, and he regarded the new arrivals with raised eyebrows.
"Alright, cool." He said, waving them over. "I'm glad you guys are here."
The trio approached and arranged themselves amongst the men already standing there, who had all been staring down at... a girl? Marty's face scrunched in puzzlement as he looked down at what appeared to be one of Anton's waifs that were constantly trying to get in his pants.
The girl was young, likely in her early twenties, and came with a cute face, multiple piercings and a pixie-cut dyed cyan blue. She was thin and dressed in an all-black form-fitting top and somewhat baggy black jeans, and at first glance appeared to be just another eager young leftist fed up with America's endless bigotry and intolerance. However, the duct tape wrapped around and attaching her wrists to her ankles, now behind her back as if she were hog-tied, as well as the strip over her mouth, meant that she'd done something very, very wrong.
"Woah, what the fuck's this?" Marty said, indicating the girl on the floor. She weakly glanced up at them with sallow half-lidded eyes, and there appeared to be crust around her nose. It was clear that she'd been unable to move for awhile, as her hands had been bound so tightly they'd become a sickly shade of dark purple; likely dead.
"Yeah, what the shit is this, where's the skinhead?" Chelsea said brusquely, her innate radical Feminist recoiling from the sight of a woman in such a position.
"He's on his way," Anton said, before lashing out and kicking the girl in the stomach. Her eyes squeezed shut and she grunted, twitching a little, but otherwise just laid there. "But while we wait, you guys can warm up with her."
"Why is she like this, though?" Ten said. "Is she a snitch or something?"
"That's exactly right," Anton said. "Apparently there's still some people in Federal law enforcement that haven't gotten the memo, so it turns out she and a few others have been working as informants."
Chelsea's eyes narrowed, her Feminist misgivings vanishing by the second. "How did you find out?" She asked.
"Friends in high places," Anton said with a chuckle. "Which means whoever's working this case at the FBI will definitely get the memo now."
"Dude, she looks like she's almost dead," Marty said, crouching down to get a better look. He immediately regretted it, as he caught a strong waft of stale urine that made him wince and scramble back to his feet.
"Yeah, that's kinda the point," the Russian said. "She's been here a few days now, but before she croaks from dehydration I thought we might be able to use her for a little... training exercise."
Ten's big blue eyes grew even bigger, and a wide, thin smile spread across his face... Marty looked over at him, and immediately backed up a little. "Dude, fucking hell... don't smile all creepy like that, it's wierding me out."
Trotskyten threw his hands out indignantly. "What? I'm just excited. This stupid bitch was caught working for the fascists, and now she's gonna find out what we do to those who serve the oppressor!"
"Dude, I know that. I mean, yeah I wanna bash the fash too, but when it comes to this sort of thing..." he gestured toward the girl's pathetic form, "...I mean, if it has to happen it has to happen, but that doesn't mean you need to get off on it!"
Marty noticed that Chelsea, Anton and the other men there were now watching him very closely. He hastily glanced from one to the other, backing up a little more each time.
"Why not?" Anton finally said, his eyebrows furrowed. "How is it wrong to enjoy a little retribution for the atrocities committed by the very system she works for?!"
"Hmm..." Chelsea's eyes narrowed. "It's not because she's... female, is it?"
"What?" Marty was taken aback. "No, no way! I just, uh... c'mon, you guys know me. I like to kid around sometimes. I'm totally down with giving these so-called people everything they fucking deserve!"
Anton nodded, and the others seemed to relax a little. "I know you are, Marty." He then chuckled a little, and leaned closer. "So, you wanna go first?" He gestured toward the girl, whose empty gaze was staring at nothing at all.
Marty looked down at her, and gulped. Little-by-little he began nodding, and using his right hand, he began digging around in his cargo shorts, seeking the sheathed combat knife he kept with him at all times. After his fingers closed around the leather sheath, he withdrew it and held it up in front of him. His steadily increasing heart rate spiked a little the instant he unsheathed the blade, but he'd been in enough tense and unforgiving situations to know how to keep his composure.
He approached the girl again, who still wasn't looking up at him. The others moved back a little to give him room, and he could definitely feel a sort of... anticipation hanging over their little gathering. An eager, vicious excitement, one that demanded that wrongs be righted through pain and spilled blood. Ten was now staring intently at Marty's gleaming knife blade, regarding it almost jealously.
The wiry Anti-fascist appraised the feeble, helpless form laying on the cement floor before him, wondering what he should do first, and where. Should I just cut her throat and be done with it? He wondered, or is that too fast and easy? His eyes moved to her stomach. What about cutting out her guts? He inwardly winced. No, too messy and... fucking gross. His gaze moved down from her stomach to between her tightly bound legs. She's been pissing and shitting in her pants for the last two days, so I'm definitely leaving that area alone.
"What's wrong man?" Anton said. "You just said you were down with this."
"The patriarchal system she serves is the same one that's committed mass atrocities across the world," Chelsea said, her jowls quivering with rage, "and continues doing so to this day!"
Ten raised an eyebrow. "Yeah man, she fucking works for them! This bitch was trying to get us all busted! You're not... feeling sorry for her, are you?"
"Of course not!" Marty snapped, a little more angrily than he intended. "I was just... trying to plan out my angle of attack..."
"I have an idea," Chelsea said, regarding the waif below with a cruel smile. The obese woman's beady eyes gazed enviously upon the girl's breasts, which were small but well-shaped, especially when compared to Chelsea's own pair of saggy pancake tits. "Cut those off." She pointed to said breasts, and only now did the girl's eyes began to widen.
Marty knelt, trying to ignore the rancid odors, and reached out. He knew that any further hesitation would elicit suspicion, and indeed there was a part of him that wanted to do this. Overall the thought of killing and torture made him queasy, but there was definitely a sort of exhilaration to it. After all, with each dead fascist the world becomes that much better of a place, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't fantasized about running his own private gulag every now and again, just filled with the worst skinhead and neo-nazi filth out there. That's right, he considered, when it came down to it, the fascists are gonna have to go, and America's filled with them now.
Marty remembered looking it up one day. Back in the 90's there were only a few thousand actual Nazis in the U.S. But after 2016? Almost sixty-three million people had voted for Trump! To think the fascist population could have exploded so high...
The thought of all those people and the misery they've inflicted made his teeth clench, and the knife's blade flashed, cutting her shirt down the middle, which also sliced a thin line down her chest that sprouted beads of red. The girl's eyes widened further and she began to squirm, but Anton placed one firm boot upon her head, and two of the other men each put one foot on her bound legs. Despite that, she squirmed even harder when Marty's left hand grabbed one of her now exposed breasts, pinching hard as he maneuvered the knife blade to its base. Her flesh was soft, and very hot, and he could feel her heart hammering through his palm.
He simultaneously squeezed and yanked her breast as hard as he could, and began cutting. As he'd seen in ISIS execution videos, a sawing motion works best, and he pulled the breast away with his left hand while the sharp blade went back and forth, slicing through little by little. The girl's eyes bulged, and she tensed hard, muffled screams escaping the duct tape over her mouth. Within seconds, he'd managed to saw all the way through, and his left hand came away with a handful of tit-flesh, which his eyes involuntarily swiveled down to. The flesh of her breast was fatty and yellow-looking on the inside, while her carved chest exposed a broad, thin strip of red pectoral muscle. Blood leaked down from the roughly-circular gash, though not as much as he'd expected.
Up above, everyone watched intently, their eyes locked onto the spectacle. Ten was breathing hard, while Chelsea started giggling a little at the mass of flesh in Marty's hand that wobbled like jell-o. Without hesitation Marty flung it to the ground, where it landed with a soft splut, and then turned his attention to the second breast, which he carved off even faster than the first. After dropping it on the ground, where it landed nipple-up, Marty stood, and turned to appraise each of his compatriots with a determined nod.
"You're right. That was fun," he said when his eyes met Anton's. He said it as sincerely as he could manage.
The Russian smiled, gave a nod of approval, and then turned to the others. "Alright, who wants to go next?" Trotskyten immediately raised his hand, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Anton gestured him forward, and ten squatted down next to her, nose wrinkling from the stench in her pants.
"Oh hey," he looked up at Marty. "Can I borrow that? I only have a little pocket knife, and the blade's way too dull."
Marty was in a daze now. It sounded like ten was speaking to him from across the room, but somehow he had the presence of mind to hand his knife away handle-first, and his comrade accepted it with wide eyes and a manic grin. Trotskyten then turned and dropped to his knees, positioning himself above her head; it appeared something on her face had caught his interest. The girl's eyes swiveled upward, and as soon as they saw ten's expression they bulged wide and she immediately began thrashing around once more.
Of course, her efforts accomplished nothing. As it turned out, those eyes of hers were ten's first target. Marty watched his fellow revolutionary pop and carve out each one, then he began savaging her lips and nose, the latter ending up mutilated because of how unexpectedly tough the cartilage was. After her ears came off it was Chelsea's turn, and unlike Marty she had no qualms about aiming for the soft stomach region.
Marty watched this all with a thin smile, occasionally nodding in approval, but in reality he was on autopilot. Instead, he focused on the dream of a socialist utopia, picturing the clean, beautiful cities filled with peace and harmony. While her intestines were being pulled out he visualized the gleaming, pollution-free oceans and healthy green forests, and as her liver and pancreas were sliced free he thought of the great crowds of people living in harmony, discussing art and philosophy as they enjoyed their tranquil lives free from oppression.
The girl wasn't alive for long after Chelsea had finished, but by then the skinhead had arrived, and sure enough he was bundled up like a mummy with an entire roll's worth of silvery duct tape, leaving only his head exposed. He had a swastika tattooed on each cheek, and a warbird on his forehead, and his brilliant blue eyes shined defiantly just up until the moment they too were removed. The man continually resisted with every bit of strength he had, but he was bound far too tightly for it to make any difference.
Stitch was late getting there, but they made sure to keep the skinhead alive just for him. The big black man's new hands clenched and unclenched, and a wide, earnest smile took over as he approached this hated nemesis. He'd made sure to bring plenty of his own tools: a hammer, some pliers, something that looked like an ice pick, and a few other things.
Marty intently watched it all, not participating this time. When asked why, he said he didn't want to potentially take away from Stitch's enjoyment, an explanation everyone accepted without question. Of course, this time he really did mean it.
In truth, Marty had legitimately felt sorry for the girl, and though he'd never admit it to Chelsea, her being female was a part of it. But this? The skinhead deserved every nasty, brutal, excruciating act the Anti-Fascists could think of, and as it turned out, they could think of many. He even laughed along with his comrades when Stitch unzipped his pants and began pissing into the skinhead's bloody eye sockets, and cheered when the final blow of Stitch's hammer caved in his shaved head, at last ending his miserable, hate-filled existence once and for all.
Bash the fash indeed, he thought, chuckling to himself. Still, Marty knew that if he really wanted to make a difference, he'd have to harden his heart since there would be many others like the girl, who at first glance did not appear to be fascist at all, yet still contributed to oppression in their own unique ways. Each and every one of them was also an enemy, who would need to be dealt with ruthlessly and without a shred of pity if the revolution was to succeed.
In the end it'll all be worth it, Marty thought as he helped bury the trashbags filled with body parts in the backyard. In the end... it'll all be worth it.
The next morning all four trainees were lined up perfectly at exactly oh-four-hundred hours. Brandon simply nodded, giving no further acknowledgment, and then promptly led them to the back for their daily drills and morning calisthenics. Afterward they departed through the front once more, heading out to the street to begin their morning march.
Each day they followed a different path, and Kyle suspected Brandon was looking at maps online and planning out their routes, as he always seemed to know exactly where to take them. After a few hours had gone by, Brandon stopped them for a brief rest.
"I just got a text from the Admin," Brandon announced to everyone. "My waifu is ready to activate!"
Everyone smiled and nodded, congratulating him. Nick and Marky both clapped a little.
"You won't be clapping in about five seconds," he said. "I wanna meet this fine piece of ass, so we're gonna be jogging back – at full speed!"
Marky immediately groaned, but the ex-marine had already taken off up the hill, and everyone else promptly left a wailing Marky in the dust. He did his best, man-breasts flopping as he huffed and puffed, but eventually the fat otaku got left behind entirely. Nick did end up stopping and waiting for him at one point, and the two elected to simply walk back together.
"So whaddya think his waifu's gonna be like?" Nick said.
"I... don't... care..." Marky could scarcely breathe.
"Aw man, don't be like that. I mean, we get ours the day after tomorrow!"
Marky's squinty eyes gleamed, and his strides suddenly gained purpose. "Alright... then... let's... haul... ass..."
The pair finally made it home only to see Kyle and Ryan waiting out in front near the main fountain, animatedly engaged in their own conversation.
"Even though anime is degenerate as fuck," Ryan said, "I gotta tell ya, I'm really looking forward to meeting these waifus. Mine especially..."
"What, you don't have a girlfriend back home?" Kyle smirked. "I'm shocked, really."
Ryan sputtered. "What? No, I mean... I do, or... we're kinda taking a break, you know how it goes."
"Sure do, buddy. I sure do."
"What are you guys doing out here?" Nick said. "Where's Sarge?" Lately he'd taken to calling Brandon 'Sarge.'
"He's down in the lab, activating his waifu with Mia," Ryan said. "It was funny. Kyle tried to follow him, but Brandon put the kibosh on that, and fast."
"Oh, shut up," Kyle growled. "I only did that because it's my fucking house."
"I'd say it more belongs to Brandon now," Ryan retorted with a wry grin. "He's taken over the best room, after all."
Kyle shook his head. "Shut the fuck up, I didn't want the master bedroom anyway. Bad vibes in there."
"Why, what happened?" Marky said. "Who lived in there before? Your parents?"
That's right, Kyle suddenly considered. None of these guys know anything about Jeremy or Amy. Probably best to keep it that way...
Brandon strolled down the ramp leading to the Central AI Nexus with an extra spring in his step. He hadn't dated since his ex, Marissa, had taken their daughter and up and left one day while he was at work. The very thought twisted within him like a hot snake, and the year that had gone by since did not assuage the searing pain in the slightest.
But now? A genuinely happy grin split his grizzled face. A new woman, made just for me. Just the way I want. How fucking amazing is that? He'd been skeptical of the waifus and other weird technology Admin Mia had come up with at first, especially once she told him how they were made, but... he'd gotten over all that.
The diminutive Admin was sitting in her chair at the Nexus, palms out, her pupils nearly invisible. Brandon stopped and tilted his head, trying to figure out exactly what she was doing. It's like she's meditating, but... I'll bet she's working her tech magic and figuring out how to invent a hyper-sonic dildo or something.
"Admin Mia," he said. "Hello, Admin?" He snapped his calloused fingers in front of her blankly staring face. After a few seconds went by, her hands dropped and her pupils expanded back to normal.
"Hi Brandon!" She said cheerfully. "I take it you read my text?"
"Sure did," he smiled back. "I can't wait to meet her."
"Well, come right this way then," Mia said, jumping out of the chair and racing down the central corridor. Brandon hurried alongside, not quite running. Once they'd entered the grow room, the drawers dominating the right side of the room caught his attention, mostly because they were now all open, and from what he could tell, empty.
"So are these all used up?" He asked, jerking a thumb toward the row of shiny drawers that once contained growing humans.
"Indeed," Mia said, slowing down to a normal walking pace. "Kyle doesn't want me growing any more bodies. He wants me to create a fully artificial human system."
"Yeah?" Brandon raised an eyebrow. "That sounds fine, I guess, but... it would be nice to have some spare organs around in case one of us takes a shot to the chest or gut."
"Well, I agreed to Kyle's request because ideally the new organs I develop could replace anything in a normal human, just like artificial hearts do now."
"Hot damn, in that case I'm with Kyle on this one," he said. "Especially if the first one you invent is a liver. I think mine might be, umm... a bit used up."
Mia chuckled slightly. "I'll see what I can do, Brandon."
The entered the common area at the rear of the lab, what Kyle called the 'waifu commons.' Brandon instinctively glanced askew at the door containing Esdeath. As it was when they were building the shooting gallery and paintball arena, the lights were off inside, and the flicker of a television screen reflecting off the walls could be seen.
"Is she just gonna sit in there forever?" Brandon asked. "I thought Kyle said he had some kind of plan."
"He doesn't," Mia said. "Not really, anyway. I think he just likes her for some reason."
"Ah." Brandon shook his head. "That's too bad. From what I could see in that room with all the anime crap in it, there's thousands to choose from. It's a shame he had to go with someone like that."
"Believe me when I say I know," Mia agreed wholeheartedly. "Anyway, we're here."
She'd led him to the door directly across the room from Esdeath's. The sliding door opened from a silent command by Mia, revealing a well-lit interior that was sparsely furnished with only a bed, small table and chair, a wall-mounted television, and another door leading to a small bathroom. However, Brandon hardly registered any of that; his eyes were now focused entirely on the buxom beauty laying still on the bed.
"Oh ho ho," he smiled broadly, nodding in deep approval. "This... this I like."
He approached the sleeping beauty, bending over somewhat to get a better look. The woman was tall, nearly as tall as he was, and her long, very shapely legs led to a full-figured stomach and torso, complete with two of the biggest, perkiest tits he'd ever seen, jutting up like torpedoes of delight, ready to launch. The red, low-cut top she wore provided a generous view of cell-shaded cleavage, which Brandon could tell would only grow more charitable once she'd awakened and sat up.
Her face was refined and elegant, but carried a deep sensuousness to it that immediately caused his heart rate to spike. Her shoulder length, crimson hair complimented her ravishing features rather nicely, and Brandon was delighted to see that it was actually a deep red, and not that orange-ish color that redheaded humans usually have. He reached out and ran a small lock of her soft hair through his fingers, but the shiny, cell-shaded rippling effect given by the polychromatic material made it so he couldn't make out each individual strand unless he looked very closely.
He let the hair slip through his fingers and stepped back, analyzing her again with a hand to his weathered chin. The woman's ensemble was completed by a pair of bracelets around each wrist, a short black leather skirt with matching belt, and combat boots that nearly made it to her knees. Brandon rubbed his hands as his blue eyes eagerly scanned each and every detail. At last he turned to Mia, and snapped his fingers once.
"Do it," he said. "I'm ready to meet her."
Mia waved her hand, and just like that, the woman inhaled deeply, and her eyes snapped open. She exhaled, blinking rapidly, and Brandon felt his breath seize in his throat as he gazed at her eyes. Sure, they were anime-style, which never held any appeal for him, but nevertheless this woman's eyes... were stunning. They perfectly matched the color of her hair, and once they'd swiveled their way over to Brandon, he felt an immediate, almost electric sensation surge through his chest.
"Hello Nina," Mia said. "How are you feeling?"
"Nina..." Brandon exhaled as he said her name, the one he had specifically chosen simply because he liked it. The woman smiled a coy, flirtatious smile, and gracefully sat up. She shifted over so that her long legs could touch the floor, and sat on the edge of her bed, gazing lovingly up toward Brandon.
"Hi Brandon," she said in a rich, creamy voice. "I'm so glad I'm finally getting to meet you."
"Yeah... same here..." For the first time in years, the grizzled ex-marine was awestruck.
"As you specified, Brandon, she comes fully-loaded with the personality you chose, as well as general knowledge of the world, and a variety of skills that I gave her to the best of my abilities." Mia smiled as she triumphantly showed off her latest creation, like a salesman presenting a customer with their brand-new luxury sedan. "She's super-strong, but has all the same functions as a normal human woman, including the ability to reproduce, and I gave her a very special feature that I want to show off to you later."
"Mia..." Brandon tried turning his head toward the AI anime girl, but his eyes were trapped by Nina's gaze. He simply couldn't help it; the full-figured animated woman was spellbinding. "Thank you..."
"You're welcome, Brandon," Mia replied. "Just keep doing a good job training everyone, and I think soon we'll be in a position to finally affect some real change."
"Yeah... of course..."
"Okay, well... I'll be on my way then. Have fun," she said, departing as the door slid shut behind her.
Nina finally stood, her hair shifting as she tossed her neck provocatively. "Come here," she said, beckoning him with a finger. Brandon did as instructed, feeling his heart hammering and his sweatpants tightening. She extended both arms, wrapping them around his neck, and drew him close.
Brandon could no longer think. His face moved forward on its own, and an electric thrill jolted through his spine as his lips touched Nina's, her soft, pliant texture slowly expanding as they pressed against each other. He felt her breath as short, ragged puffs, and it slowly dawned on him that she might be just as anxious and excited as he was. As their lips held, Brandon's rough hand extended, his trembling fingers pressing against the soft material of her chest, touching there in the middle, just above where her mountainous bulges met. She gasped from the feel of his calloused hand flattening against her chest, and his kiss grew more passionate after he'd felt her heart, deep inside her cybernetic chest; it was pounding.
Nina's tongue flicked out, teasingly, but immediately his caught it and held fast, before she made her escape. His tongue made chase, finally cornering its prey within her mouth, where they wrestled in a passionate, life-or-death struggle. Brandon slid his free hand around Nina's back, drawing her close, while the hand on her chest dipped down, feeling the incredibly soft, silky texture of her breasts. Nina giggled a little, fidgeting from his touch, and she gave a little squeak once his fingers had found and gently pinched one of her fully-erect nipples.
As their kiss grew more passionate, Nina's hands did their own exploring, with one wrapping around the ex-marine's well-muscled back, and the other descending, seeking more promising territory. Soon it had found what it sought, a massive, rock-hard shaft painfully straining against his sweatpants. Thanks to the easily-bypassed elastic band, Nina's hand slipped effortlessly into his pants, her fingers brushing against his bulging member. Brandon grunted as her soft, but somehow iron-hard grip wrapped around his shaft, and began gently stroking, the polychromatic material of her fingers providing less friction than normal human skin.
They continued their delectable kiss, their tongues wringing around each other, mouths tenderly opening and closing slightly, if only so his weathered lips could feel hers again and again. Eventually Nina's mouth moved down slightly, Brandon's bottom lip caught and held in her teeth for just a second before releasing. He watched, transfixed, as her eyes met his, and held that gaze, swiveling upward as her head lowered down, down, and down some more, until finally all he could see was the shimmering crimson hair of her animated head.
And yet she maintained her descent, kneeling before him, her face flushing as it made itself home directly in front of his crotch. Her hands had now moved to either side of his waistband, and they pinched the grey fabric of his sweatpants... and lowered. Brandon's massive cock flew out in a rage, bouncing up directly in front of Nina's lips, lips that she now licked hungrily. Her mouth opened, and she closed her eyes as her face advanced forward, tongue slightly out, as if to guide his shaft to its new home in her throat. And in fact, that's what it did, her slick, warm tongue sliding along the underside of his cock while the rest of her mouth swallowed up all it could. Her head slowed its advance forward, taking into account his impressive girth while her mouth worked its way along. The warm, soft, fleshy inner lining of her cheeks pressed into both sides of his cock, caressing him with its slick touch. Meanwhile, her hands had not stayed idle; no, her right hand wrapped its thumb and index finger around the base of his shaft, while the other gently fondled and massaged his massive balls.
Brandon groaned, and he threw his head back, moaning again as her tongue lapped along the underside of his cock. At last, he could feel her mouth begin to transition to throat, and an even warmer, tighter layer of slick fleshiness closed around his head, constricting the tip of his dick in an embrace that caused his dick to immediately spasm.
But this wasn't the ex-marine's first rodeo, and he knew he could hold out for some time yet. He placed both of his hands on her head, gently encouraging Nina to continue her oral ministrations, and she did, gradually sliding her head forward and back, the tip of his dick enveloped and re-enveloped by her throat again and again. He felt his legs tense, and his stomach grew taut, and his dick spasmed again, faster than expected.
She's good... she's so good, Brandon thought blissfully as his head lolled back and forth. With her throat now opened up a bit, Nina was able to bob her head forward and back a little faster, and the hand playing with his balls rolled them with ever-greater enthusiasm. She began sucking in even harder with her cheeks, providing just a bit more stimulation, while her tongue waggled along the underside of his shaft. His cock plunged into her throat again and again, its spasms growing faster and closer together, until he felt every muscle in his body tense at once...
Brandon cried out as his cock unleashed a torrent of hot, creamy jizz directly into Nina's throat, his head tilting back throughout the entire length of the first long surge. Nina obediently swallowed, her throat bobbing up and down as a second blast of milky cum spewed forth. A third, shorter blast followed, and then a fourth, and by then Nina had withdrawn his dick until it was settled within her mouth, and she gleefully licked up every drop of semen that spilled forth, swallowing everything. She continued sucking and slurping however, not resting until her tongue had lapped up every last morsel of cum that oozed out.
At last, she withdrew, his softening yet still firm cock wobbling as it was set free. Nina glanced up, smiling bashfully at Brandon, her eyes filled with satisfaction. Brandon laughed, then threw his head back and howled. Still chuckling, he looked around for something to dry his saliva-covered dick with, and-
What the fuck? He saw something at the door out the corner of his eye. Brandon spun around, his dick slapping Nina in the face, because... Esdeath was there. Or, at least she was. His eyes flicked back and forth, but there was now nobody at the window.
I saw it though, he thought with growing trepidation. She was there, watching with a disgusted look on her face.
"What's wrong, sweetie?" Nina said, standing up while rubbing her cockslapped cheek.
"I thought I saw Esdeath standing there... I think she was watching us," Brandon said.
"I don't know who that is," she said, with a degree of worry. "I only know of you, and Mia."
"She's a strange one, I can tell you that," the ex-marine said. "I think she's broken somehow."
"Well, that doesn't matter now," Nina said, smiling. "Mia gave me the strength to protect you, if need be."
"I don't need no woman to..." He trailed off, considering suddenly that these aren't just women; no, they're waifus, and on a completely different level than normal human females. Or males, for that matter.
"Never mind, I might need that one day," he said, turning back to Nina.
She smiled brightly, and he noticed whenever she did, her catlike eyes charmingly narrowed a bit. "Of course, Brandon. I belong to you, now. Just make sure you treat me with care, and I will provide you with all the love and tenderness you could ever possibly want."
Brandon laughed and turned away for a second in disbelief. But when his head came back around, Nina was still there, regarding him with a warm smile.
"I would love nothing more," he said, reaching out and caressing her cheek.
"How long do we have to wait out here?" Marky said for the third time, idly kicking rocks near one of the hedges.
"I dunno man. How long does it take to activate a waifu?" Ryan turned to Kyle. "Well?"
Everyone's gaze turned to the 35-year old NEET, who was made briefly uncomfortable from their scrutiny. But he sighed, and adjusted his posture a bit. "Let's see... I'm trying to remember..."
I don't know if I do remember, he thought. I was so focused on nailing the opening statements to Esdeath that I lost track of time... hmm...
"Okay, well I do remember that waking them up is almost instantaneous." Kyle said. "And the part after that took about... five or ten minutes? I don't think it was really that long."
Just then, both halves of the front door opened up, and Brandon confidently strode out with a beautiful animated woman in tow. Her fashionable top barely contained two massive tits that bounced and wobbled as she descended the flagstone steps, and her tall combat boots clomped along the ground, the smooth, curvaceous legs ascending up from her footwear rippling with every step she took.
Almost as one, the trainees gasped, as this anime woman's stunning beauty was just that; all four were literally transfixed by her ravishing good looks. Each pair of wide eyes furiously scanned her unreal animated features, moving from her breasts, to her legs, to her arms, to her face... and hair...
Kyle fell to his knees. The face... the hair... those eyes, the jewel-like cat eyes that once regarded him as mere prey, and the diagonal swoop of hair dynamically flowing toward the left side of her face...
It was Amy.It was fucking Amy! Except her hair was red now, and longer. But Kyle could see no other differences. None. The facial structure, the eyes, the legs, the tits... oh god, the tits! They were just as massive and perky as he remembered.
"Alright, listen up. I'd like to introduce you all to the newest member of our team: Nina!" Brandon said with a grand flourish of his arms.
Nina looked bashful, and shyly fidgeted a bit with a playful smile, but eventually extended an arm and waved to everyone. "Hello everyone, I'm Nina, Brandon's waifu. I look forward to getting to know all of you..."
"Holy shit," Ryan said. "That's a whole lotta titty..."
"Hey now," Brandon stuck an accusing finger out at Ryan. "Treat her with respect, or I'll treat you with my fist."
"Jeez, alright," Ryan put up his arms defensively.
"She's gorgeous," Nick said in a dreamy, far away voice.
"I like 'em a bit... smaller," Marky said, "but she is very pretty."
"Kyle, what's going on with you?" Brandon said, advancing toward the dumbfounded NEET who was still on his knees, slack-jawed.
"It even sounds like her..." he said, shaking his head.
"What the hell are you talking about? Sounds like who?" Brandon said.
"That's Amy," Kyle suddenly looked up, wild-eyed. "Why the fuck did you pick Amy?!"
"Whoa, calm your tits," Brandon said, regarding Kyle with a suddenly steely glare. "Who the hell is Amy?"
"That's Amy," Kyle cried, jabbing a finger toward Nina. "It's Amy with red hair. Didn't you know that!?"
Brandon suddenly seemed to consider this, turning and putting a finger on his chin. "When I talked to Mia about it," he began, "I asked if she already had any beautiful women that I could pick from, that weren't from any kind of show. She said yes, and showed me pictures of some super-hot chick with short green hair. It was on those screens by the AI thing in the middle of the lab. I liked everything about her, except for the green hair, because yuck."
Kyle listened halfheartedly, but the whole time he was staring at Nina, who seemed to be growing uncomfortable from his gaze. She looked away nervously, and wrapped her arms around herself.
"...And then Mia said no problem, and showed me a picture of the same girl but with longer red hair. I said perfect. After that, we moved on to things like her personality. That's it, Kyle." Brandon now seemed to be just as disturbed by this as Kyle was.
"So who the hell was this Amy person, anyway?" Ryan asked. "I thought Esdeath was the first waifu."
"She is..." Kyle snarled. "Because Amy wasn't a waifu. She was a fucking atrocity."
"I think you'd better give us the whole story," Brandon said. "Or maybe I'll just go ask Mia..."
"No," Kyle weakly shook his head and sighed. "I guess I'll tell you, since I fucking blurted it all out to begin with..." He stood up, stumbled a bit, and then straightened himself and headed indoors.
"Alright everyone, training is postponed until I figure out what the fuck is going on," Brandon said, beckoning the others to follow. "Now come on, I wanna hear this."
Kyle hunched down in his usual spot at the table within the kitchen's dining area, and everyone else followed in, taking their seats as well, the wooden chairs scraping against the tile. Brandon pulled out an empty chair next to him for Nina, which she took with a grateful smile. As she sat, her hand moved over to his. Brandon took it, and squeezed.
This turned Kyle's stomach, and he had to look away. Why? Why did it have to look just like her?!
"Alright Kyle, tell us the story." Brandon encouraged. "We're wasting good training time on this, so your little freakout better have a good reason behind it."
"A good reason?" Kyle laughed dryly, then sighed. "Alright, well shit. Here goes..."
And so Kyle recounted his tale, starting from the beginning, describing what happened to him at the apartment, the escape to Los Angeles, meeting Amy for the first time, waiting around for Jeremy, and the growing suspicions when his cousin never materialized. He did mention the sex, but didn't go into unnecessary details, nevertheless both Brandon and Nina seemed perturbed by this.
Once he'd made it to the part where he sneaked into the lab, everyone was listening with rapt attention. He didn't embellish anything, but didn't go over every detail either. However, he did mention his shock and anger upon finding out that Jeremy was Amy, and that she was essentially a fantasy alter-ego brought to life through Mia's technological marvels. He also mentioned their battle in the very kitchen they now sat, which seemed so long ago even though it had hadn't even been a month.
After Kyle was finished, his head hit the table, and everyone else looked around at each other, but in the end their eyes focused on Nina.
"I... I don't know about any of this," Nina said, squeezing Brandon's hand harder. "I honestly don't. I can already say that I have nothing in common with this 'Amy,' other than my appearance, it would seem."
"Really?" Kyle looked up a little, only his eyes visible. "You seriously don't have any memories? No residual feelings, nothing?"
"No," Nina shook her head. "Mia filled my head with general knowledge of this world, and gave me some special skills, too... but that's it."
Kyle pushed himself up, and sighed again. "Alright, well... as long as there's none of Amy inside of you, then... I think I can deal."
"I feel better too, actually," Brandon said. "Nina is my dream girl, I didn't want Kyle's nasty-ass tranny cousin."
Kyle grit his teeth. "He wasn't a tranny."
"He turned into a girl, dude." Ryan laughed. "Where I come from, that's a tranny."
"It was his alter-ego, he didn't have gender dysphoria..."
Nick starting chuckling too. "Heh heh... you fucked your cousin."
"Shut up," Kyle growled.
Even Marky was getting in on it. "Come on Kyle, don't lie. You enjoyed it, right?"
"Shut up, SHUT UP!" Kyle tugged at his hair.
"Ah, c'mon fellas, leave the poor guy alone" Brandon said with a smirk. "'Cuz on second thought, I'd fuck my cousin too if he turned into this." He jabbed his thumb at Nina.
"FUCK YOU ALL!" Kyle jumped out of his chair and stormed off, while everyone else laughed their asses off, even Nina.
"Alright, listen up," Brandon said, addressing the four trainees standing at attention down in the shooting gallery. "Today, you're going to learn how to shoot. I'm also going to be teaching you how to service and maintain an AR-15, since that's what I have the most extras of. I've set up some paper targets at various ranges, but before we shoot I need you all to pay exact attention to the safety procedures that I am about to go over. Understand so far?"
"Yes sir!" Everyone shouted at once, even Nina, who was standing behind Brandon.
The ex-marine then went over exactly how to safely hold, carry and aim a rifle, and then how to reload and shoot. It took nearly half an hour for his safety demonstration to complete, but for the most part everyone knew that gun safety was literally a life-and-death matter.
"Remember, even Mia can't bring you back if you shoot your face off," Brandon said. "Well, I guess as a creepy emulation," he said, looking at Kyle, who grimaced, "but I don't think anyone here wants that."
"No sir!"
"Alright, good," Brandon casually made his way over to the sturdy tables, which also had small rests to set the barrel on to help beginners aim. Five AR-15s, each in differing states of wear and tear
also rested on the table, as well as one of Brandon's dufflebags, filled with ammunition. "Make sure you put these protective ear-muffs and goggles on too, or else you'll go deaf after three shots."
Brandon pulled out five sets of what looked like large, fat headphones, and large orange safety goggles, and distributed them to everyone, except for Nina. "Aw shit, sorry honey... I only had five of each and uh, I guess I forgot to get more." He seemed genuinely upset at himself.
"Don't worry, Brandon," Nina said with a cute smile. "My hearing won't be damaged by decibels in this range, and my eye lenses are very durable."
"Really? You're sure it's alright?" He seemed awestruck.
"Absolutely sure," Nina replied with a confident nod.
"Alright, well hot damn!" Brandon clapped his hands together. "Let's get shootin'!"
Brandon went first, standing and aiming, then firing off a few shots at the furthest target. Even with the headphone-like ear protectors, the shots were loud, and reverberated in the enclosed space for what seemed like forever. Kyle squinted, and could just make out a few holes near the bullseye of the furthest target.
"Alright, who wants to go next?" Brandon stepped back.
Ryan was already there, eager as ever. Perhaps too eager, as Brandon angrily pushed the barrel away when Ryan almost accidentally pointed it at Nina. He made a d'oh face and then tried the standing shooting position. He planted his feet, aimed the rifle at the medium-range target, and squeezed off five very loud shots.
"That was so cool!" He said as he set the gun down, remembering to trigger the safety. Kyle looked at the target, and found Ryan's shots were all over the place, only one anywhere near the bullseye.
"Okay, who's next? Kyle?"
Kyle exhaled, picked up the gun, and mentally went through the checklist Brandon went over for each of them. He flipped the safety, and positioned his left hand on the handguard and right on the pistol-grip just as their instructor had demonstrated, and then aimed at the medium target. Ryan's getting his ass handed to him, Kyle thought, as he depressed the trigger five times. The recoil dug into his shoulder, but not too badly, and after it was over he eagerly looked up...
Not bad, he thought. There was even a new bullet hole right next to the bullseye! Pretty good for a first try.
Nick was up next, followed by Marky. They each aimed at the closest target, Nick doing better than Marky, who held the gun awkwardly and looked about as unnatural as possible.
After the first round of shooting was over, everyone removed their ear protection, while Brandon went over some tips and corrected mistakes that he saw. Nina, meanwhile, went out and replaced the shot-up paper targets with fresh versions.
"...and that's all there is to it," Brandon said, finishing the explanation. "Now, let's go for round two. This time, why doesn't Marky go..." He trailed off as he noticed something approaching from the right. Everyone else followed his gaze, and Kyle's jaw dropped; what the fuck is she doing here?!
Esdeath had just descended the ramp to the bottom floor, and slowly approached, her boots clicking loudly against the rocky floor. Nina immediately picked up a fully loaded AR-15 and faced the intruder, but didn't aim it toward her... just yet, at least. Esdeath continued approaching, showing no reaction to Nina arming herself, nor the baffled and somewhat fearful glances directed toward her from the trainees.
For his part, Kyle stared impassively, having decided that at the very least he won't act afraid of her anymore.
Once Esdeath reached the group, she stopped, and addressed Brandon. "I heard the sound of gunshots. Firearms seem to be the favored weapon of this wretched world, so I'd like to familiarize myself with them."
Before the ex-marine could even articulate a response, Esdeath had picked up one of the guns, and aimed it at the furthest target. Kyle wasn't sure if she had watched them earlier, but she braced herself, legs apart, and held the gun more or less in the correct position. Kyle watched a large blue eye gaze down the sights, and she squeezed the trigger.
...Nothing happened. Esdeath slowly lowered the weapon, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly.
"Oh dear," Nina said in a blatantly patronizing tone. "You forgot something, sweetie." She'd moved closer to Esdeath, just in case she turned on everyone, but from her position was able to easily lean forward and extend her hand toward the gun Esdeath held. She flipped the safety off.
"There you go," Nina said, smiling sweetly. "Now you can shoot it!"
Esdeath's face remained impassive and unreadable, but somehow Kyle could tell she had already developed a burning hatred for Nina.
Without a word Esdeath once again raised her AR-15, and aimed down the sights. Everyone had their ear protectors back on by now, which was fortunate because she quickly shot off every round in the clip, her trigger finger moving rapidly. She barely budged from the recoil, and the loud, reverberating shots didn't seem to faze her. After the clip was empty, Esdeath set the weapon back on the table a little more brusquely than was necessary, and turned to admire her work.
Kyle whistled. She had either hit the bullseye on the furthest target, or gotten very close. Kyle could see a slight smile form on her lips.
"Not bad, Esdeath," he said. "You're a natural, I think."
At first Kyle thought she was going to simply ignore him, but after a few moments she turned to him and scoffed. "If I had my Demon's Extract I could bullseye multiple targets up to a mile away with my ice," she said. "But I no longer have my greatest strength, do I?" Her eyes narrowed at Kyle, and he had to fight not to turn away from her excruciating gaze.
Kyle's eyes did find something else they were drawn to, though. And as soon as he saw it, he couldn't help but gasp. His gaze had lowered from her glare to her chest, but it was not to ogle her cleavage... no, it was to blanch at what was suddenly missing.
There, between her breasts, where her trademark red tattoo-like mark had been, was instead a grey blotch of sliced-up polychromatic flesh. For some reason, he hadn't noticed it until now.
"Your mark..." he said, dumbfounded. "Did you...?"
"Yes, I cut it out," she said, as if he were stupid for asking. "The mark served as nothing but a cruel reminder of the power I once held. It was a false mark, a fake, just like everything else your little friend is trying to bring to life."
"I suggest you rethink that position, Esdeath," Mia said, approaching from the ramp. "You'd be surprised how real my 'fakes' can get." The diminutive anime girl wore a scowl and approached with a determined glare. Esdeath immediately forgot about Kyle and turned to confront Mia, a snarl forming on her lips.
"Brandon, I think now's the perfect time to demonstrate Nina's latent capabilities," Mia said, beginning to smile.
"Is this what you were talking about earlier?" He said, scratching his head.
"Indeed. Please place two fresh targets on the furthest sandbag, side-by-side." She continued staring at Esdeath, but her expression and tone had mostly reverted back to the normal, sweet Mia.
Brandon shrugged, but did as he was told. Within a minute he was back behind the table, and Mia had approached Nina and reached up to the hidden access port above her shoulder blades. It slid open, and Mia tapped her fingers inside a few times, and withdrew her hand. Nina's access port slid shut, as if it were never there at all, and indeed Nina didn't seem to be affected by any change whatsoever.
"This shooting range isn't really big enough to demonstrate the full capabilities of the targeting system I added to Nina, but I still think you'll be able to get the basic idea." Mia smiled broadly in self-satisfaction.
"Alright, looks like it's my turn!" Nina wiggled cutely, as if she were nervous, and picked up two AR-15's holding one in each hand. After making sure the safeties were off, she walked to the furthest point away from the distant target, and then turned around, so that she was facing the wall.
"What the hell is she doing?" Brandon said, his brows knitted.
"I've seen this before," Marky said, shaking his head dismissively, jowls wobbling.
But Nina ignored him, and simply raised both weapons so that she was pointing them straight up, her machine strength keeping them perfectly straight. Her arms lowered, hands pointing backwards, so that the carry handles were resting on her shoulders. Kyle couldn't believe it... she was aiming the guns backward, toward the targets, while she faced the wall!
And then she began shooting. Her trigger fingers moved so fast they were almost a blur, and within seconds both clips had been emptied. Everyone looked to see if she'd actually hit anything, and it appeared that only a single shot had hit home, in the middle of each bullseye.
But no, that wasn't right, was it? Brandon and his trainees moved closer, until it was apparent that every shot had hit in those exact spots.
"How the fuck..." Brandon's eyes were wide, and he went up to the targets, touching them, as if to confirm such a thing had actually happened. "Insane..." he said, suddenly laughing. "Absolutely insane!"
For her part, Nina had returned to the table and reloaded her two guns. She continued to wear an innocent smile, and blushed from Brandon's adulation.
"We're not done yet," Mia said, throwing a sidelong glance toward Esdeath, whose face was unreadable.
"Everyone please return behind the tables," Nina said as she hoisted a different AR-15, just one this time. As the incredulous trainees and awestruck ex-marine returned to the safe zone, Nina maneuvered around the table, and this time stood off to the side, closer to the short range target.
"Oh, I'm nervous," she said, fidgeting a bit.
"You can do it, honey!" Brandon shouted. "Uh... whatever it is you're trying to do, I mean."
Nina closed her eyes, and seemed to take a deep breath. She then took off at a full sprint, running across the shooting range, parallel to the targets. As she did so, she stuck out the arm holding the AR-15's pistol grip almost straight out, but aimed at the medium range target. Still holding the gun one-handed, she began firing shot after shot, not even looking at the target, and even blew Brandon a kiss as she dashed by the table everyone was gathered behind. Within seconds she had made it to the other side and the clip was empty.
As before, the bullseye of the medium-range target seemed to be the only thing she'd hit. And as before, it soon became apparent that all of her seemingly-wild shots had instead hit home in the exact same spot.
"It's been done!" Marky called out, his hands cupped around his mouth.
Mia turned to the fat otaku with a scowl. "In real life?"
"Uh..." He turned away from the suddenly fierce AI anime girl. "I meant to say, nice job Nina!"
"Yeah... I'm in complete shock." Brandon said as he approached Nina. "How the hell did you do that?"
"I'm not really sure," Nina shrugged. "It was like I had another invisible hand guiding mine."
"That's the targeting system," Mia said with a series of proud nods. "As we get closer to beginning operations, I'm starting to develop weaponry and other offensive technology... for the first time."
So that's it, Kyle thought. Mia did say my idea was a good one. I wonder if she'll be doing it for the other waifus as well? He turned to see what Esdeath's reaction was, but she was already heading for the ramp, her arms crossed in front of her. Kyle briefly considered going after her, but immediately realized that would be unwise.
Brandon, however, seemed much more cavalier toward Esdeath, and quickly ran up alongside her. She halted, but did not spare him a glance.
"What?" She aked, testily.
"Hey, so uh..." He scratched the back of his neck, "you were watching us earlier, weren't you?"
Esdeath's only response was an expression of pure disgust.
"Yeah, that's the face I saw," Brandon said, his brow furrowing. "Listen hun, I already got a girl, so if you want the 'Big D,'" he said, grabbing his crotch, "you'll have to get in line."
Somehow her expression soured even further, and she looked away. "How repulsive," she uttered. "I wasn't interested in witnessing that, I simply wished to see what new horrors she had brought to life." Esdeath threw a brief but very malicious glance toward Mia, and then turned to resume her departure.
Brandon watched her ascend the ramp, as did everyone else. After she'd left, he shrugged and returned to the group.
Since the 'demonstration' had concluded, Mia accessed Nina's port and turned the targeting system off, since it draws extra power. She then explained how Brandon or even Nina herself could activate it, and it turned out to be a fairly simple process.
"Thank you so much, Mia," Brandon said, repeatedly shaking the diminutive anime girl's hand. "Not only did you give me the greatest woman ever, she's worth at least a hundred soldiers just by herself!"
"That's the idea," Mia said with a big grin. "Given our numbers are so tiny, I've really had to dial up the 'quality' of our forces, such as they are."
"Ah yes, the old 'quantity versus quality' debate," Marky said, rubbing his chin. "I'm more partial to 'quality' myself."
"Same here, actually," Nick said. "The best bud is also the most expensive, but it's cool because you only need a little."
"Yeah..." Kyle agreed. "One good PC game easily beats a hundred shovelware titles, hands-down."
"That's true on the battlefield too, mostly," Brandon added with a nod. "Especially nowadays with so many ways to mow-down cannon fodder quickly. Human-wave tactics are pretty much obsolete."
Ryan didn't say anything, however, instead seeming to ponder something.
"What, don't you have one, Ryan?" Nick said, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Not really," he said. "I mean, I agree with what you're all saying, but..." he turned and faced the group. "We're gonna need a lot more than just us, no matter how great the waifus are. Alot more."
"Well, once we get this shindig started more people will want to join up for sure," Brandon said. "After all, someone's gotta host the party, otherwise no guests are gonna show up."
"I get the feeling it'll happen sooner rather than later," Mia said, her smile beginning to vanish. "Something is going on out there, and... based on what I've seen online, I don't think we'll have to wait long to find out what it is..."
