"What do you think wackus bonkus?

  Kill him!

  Oh, you naughty wackus bonkus. What a good idea!"

  --Elise 'Trash Bandit' Roberton, definitely not delirious from hunger and talking to a big hammer to decide the fate of a nosy ganger trying to break into her den, 2032.

  An alert ping from Pin lets me know our time is up, so we leave our den behind.

  It takes a bit of extra effort to squeeze Chip out through the truck’s window thanks to the cluster of hat buckles stuck to his body by a thin black layer of symbiote, but once he’s out and rolling along we make good time getting to one of the pit’s walls.

  We can hear thundering footfall echoing through the pit, and I’m able to pick up on the faint plink of the lab’s mounted railguns spraying shots into the dump.

  My siblings shoot their P.E.L.T anchors into the walls above and pull themselves up with the whirr of their motors while I leap after them, slamming into the wall and tensing my claws, driving them into the metal to hold myself in place. I scramble up and crest the top at the same time as I hear the thunk of Chip’s rocket launcher going off.

  An explosion scatters plant pieces in the air, and I duck down to avoid the worst of it while fading from sight. My eyes scan past the swarm of aliens that definitely weren’t here when we got here, focusing in on the lab sitting by the front gates.

  There’s a building pile of corpses almost blocking it from sight, but I’m able to spot Pin and Chevron guiding the railguns on its roof, and the rising smoke below them means that Bengal’s probably working on clean-up already.

  I can’t see the three newbies, but a quick check in our network tells me they’re somewhere by the lab and pretty relaxed, so I stop worrying and turn to the plants offering themselves up to help grow our numbers.

  I dive past a spray of fire from the invisible Spot and into a pack of Threes, tearing through them without resistance. My claws cleave heads from shoulders and dig deep, rotting furrows into the flesh of the larger Fours I pass, leaving my bacteria to finish them.

  None of the plants have a chance to fight back as I slip between them unseen. My form occasionally gains substance when their blood splatters over me, but Sim absorbs it and reconceals us before I even finish digging out the beady eyes of the dogs that spotted us.

  [{Where are they coming from?}] I ask through the D.E.N, catching a writhing Nine as it leaps at me from where it was hidden on a dying squishy fishy’s back.

  [{Big hole,}] one of the unnamed clones replies.

  [{Second from last,}] another adds.

  [{Got it, thanks.}]

  Sending them mental head pats, I turn towards the second-from-last pit on the other side of the main walkway to our den, ignoring an explosion a few metres away from me.

  Chip does remember I’m here, right?

  I tear down two Threes before kicking aside a lashing tentacle from a Four that noticed its allies’ deaths.

  A quick glance through my aug data readouts tells me my R.A.B.I.E.S is mostly full, so I pour the DogEater into my tail, adding in some coating agent and a healthy dose of the flesh-eating enzymes it can produce. With a savage grin, I spin around, sweeping my tail out and releasing a spray of thick, green goop that clings to every nearby plant with a sizzle.

  It drains my production organ completely, but all of the xenos near me start falling apart, giving me a free moment to check for where they’re coming from and head straight towards it.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  I reach the edge of the indicated rubbish pit unimpeded thanks to the plants avoiding the small bubble of death I’ve created, but when I peer over, I see tens of plants crawling up the walls towards me. Behind them is a giant mound of scrap machinery, from cars and trucks to heavy construction cranes, precariously held together over a gaping hole leaking plants.

  “Is that another hive?”

  Not quite. There’s a large waste transport pipe passing directly under this part of the dump. Considering the lack of activity until your unnamed clones got close, it’s likely only connected to a hive in the nearby waste processing plant.

  “I guess that’s not as bad then. Give me something to stop them from climbing these walls please.”

  Okay, hold your hands out.

  ˉˉˉˉˉ

  New Purchase!

  Mark III Gel Utilising Nvironment Kontroller – 125 points

  Remaining points: #####

  _____

  A bulky gun falls into my outstretched hands as I try not to roll my eyes at Cyon’s slowly slipping acronyms.

  It’s blocky, like several cardboard boxes stuck together, with a clear canister sitting beneath the wide barrel.

  “Big guns and stealth don’t mix,” I mumble, watching the gun slowly fade from sight as Sim creeps up the handle to cover it, thinning the rest of my protection.

  Just point it at the walls of the pit and pull the trigger. It’s an expensive one-time weapon, but the area denial gel it shoots should prevent anything from scaling those walls for a while.

  “Got it.”

  I ignore the Threes that notice the gun and start charging towards me, leaving them to the invisible raccoon I can feel approaching me through my trail of carnage. I place the stock of the unwieldy weapon, that’s even more awkward to hold when I can’t see it, against my shoulder and point it down at the aliens climbing up to bite my ankles.

  Two faint, muffled cracks hit my ears, sending a shiver down my spine as the doggos running at me drop dead.

  {Your pistol sounds nice,} I squeak to Stripe before pulling the trigger of my G.U.N.K.

  The weapon kicks back against me as a thick, pressurised stream of clear, bubbling gel erupts from the end. The viscous spray slams into the face of a climbing Four, knocking it back with force and coating it in a slick layer of ooze.

  I move the barrel, sweeping it over the wall and covering every inch in the clear, sticky fluid. It only takes a few seconds to completely unload the weapon, but the plants hit with the gel don’t seem bothered after the initial impact.

  “Is it meant to do something?” I ask, kicking a Three in the face as it digs its claws into the wall and pulls itself through the sludge to try and reach me.

  Yes, but you need to activate it. Make sure you aren’t standing on any, then touch the barrel of the G.U.N.K to the gel and double-press the trigger.

  She could have just given me the full instructions before!

  Flicking my tail in irritation, I take a step back and lower the gun until I feel the tip of the barrel scrape the floor.

  I tug on the trigger twice, then start in surprise as a shrill wail hits my ears.

  Flinching back from the edge of the rubbish pit, I drop the G.U.N.K and slap my hands to my head, covering my poor ears.

  The ear-splitting noise spreads as fire eats through the gel, filling my vision with a blazing green inferno.

  ‘Is it meant to be that colour?’ I ask Cyon wordlessly, massaging my ears and glaring at the evil screaming fire.

  Yes. The Gel Utilising Nvironment Kontroller uses a special blend of chemicals and heat-resistant bacteria to keep the Antithesis at bay. The bacteria react to the heat and release a frequency of sound that destabilises the Antithesis biology, creating a deadly barricade they can neither pass easily nor ignore.

  ‘So, it burns loud and bright to annoy them?’

  In simple terms… yes.

  Sim curls tighter over my ears, protecting them a little from the grating sound and letting me lower my hands.

  ‘I don’t like it.’

  We can purchase you some ear protection to help against sonic attacks if you would like. It’s a weakness we will need to deal with sooner or later thanks to your enhanced senses.

  ‘Okay.’

  I turn my back to the burning wall after confirming the plants aren’t rising over it anymore, focusing on the remainder of the swarm between me and the lab.

  ‘What should I get?’

  We could purchase you a separate set of adaptable ear protectors from your Prolotor Combat Utilities catalogue, but I would instead recommend purchasing the genetic code for a similar upgrade to Sim. Sensitive hearing is something all of your Siblings and their clones will have to deal with too.

  I nod in understanding as I rip out a Three’s throat before spinning to drive my fist into some stray tentacles from a Four getting too close.

  ‘Okay, how much is that and do I have to wait till I go back to the lab to get it?’

  The Symbiote No Useless Gabber genetic code will set you back five hundred points, and yes, if you buy it like this you will need to retrieve a sample from your lab to upgrade Sim.

  I glance back over my shoulder at the flickering green flames getting further away as I dance a bloody trail through the plants.

  ‘I should be fine for now then.’

  I turn back to killing plants, grabbing a throwing knife from thin air and flicking it into the head of a dead body with a few too many writhing tentacles for my taste, killing a poorly hidden Nine.

  ‘Buy the code and get a sample ready for when I get back, please. I can get snug when we’re done.’

  …