Chapter 47 - The Exchange of Currency in Return for Goods and No Services

“This is a terrible idea.”

{Nonsense! This is the perfect opportunity to get some answers.}

“The man shot at us. What if he just pulls a gun?”

{Aha! That’s why I brought…}

Chip digs through his pockets, tossing out random nicknacks Elise swears she recognises from her apartment, before proudly presenting a knife.

{This!}

“What’s that supposed to do?”

{Well, you know what they say about bringing a knife to a gunfight.}

“That it’s bad?”

{Oh, bloody hell… is that what that means?}

--A scene from episode 2 of Chip Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, P.A.W: channel #03.

For a single enhanced raccoon, with a D.E.N implant preinstalled, you’re looking at two hundred points.

I wince at the price, or at the teeth nipping my tail, one of the two, before looking down at the little monsters clinging onto me.

Yeah, I can see why they cost so much. Dangerous weapons these.

{Okay, in that case…} I chitter, subduing my vicious assailants with belly rubs as I think. {Give me five more labs, loaded with the compounds for another set of clones and symbiotes. Weaponise one of them so we have two escorts though.}

That’ll cost-

{Fourteen thousand eight hundred and fifty points.}

…

Cyon’s avatar poofs out of existence after pouting silently for a second.

Correct.

{Leaving me with around seven thousand five hundred points to put into completed clones,} I hum in victorious satisfaction as my nursery finally calms, falling quiet to listen to the coming additions. {Let’s say thirty clones and dedicate the rest of my free points to equipping our existing numbers.}

Understood. Purchases incoming now!

The moment her words squeak in the back of my mind, a crack divides the sky (view of the roof) and a gaping void opens up, drawing every beady little eye in my gaze.

¯¯¯¯¯

New Purchases!

P.O.W (VoidChomper) x 10 – 4000 points
Class II C.U.D Genetic Code – 1000 points
Class II F.U.R Genetic Code – 1000 points
Mark VI R.A.B.I.E.S Genetic Code – 1000 points
Mark VI B.S.S Genetic Code – 600 points
Class II R.A.V.I.N.G Viral Sample – 200 points
Assorted Viral Codes (F.U.R, B.U.L.K, S.N.E.K) – 900 points
Class II M.A.D Viral Sample – 500 points
Assorted Drug Codes (Zoomies, Zoomies Lite, ZZzzz…) – 1000 points
Class III R.A.B.I.E.S Upgrade Sample – 100 points
Assorted Bacteria Blueprints (VoidChomper, PurpleClarity) – 800 points
B.I.N L.O.R.R.Y (weaponised) – 3000 points
B.I.N L.O.R.R.Y x 4 – 10000 points
Assorted Culture Solutions (S23, P19) – 750 points
Assorted Accelerating Compounds (S23, P19) – 1100 points
Enhanced Procyon Lotor Clone (D.E.N chipped) x 30 – 6000 points
Nursery Defence Budget (Pistols, Symbiote Culture, Grenades, so many grenades…) – 1500 points

Total: 33,450 points
Remaining points: 66

_____

Wow, that’s a lotta words. Too bad I’m not readin’ em.

“Cyon, do we need to have a word about when it’s reasonable to cut purchase lists as well?”

She doesn’t respond, and I’m quickly distracted by the fleet of garbage trucks floating down through the rift in space. Riding on top of them are thirty fully-armed raccoons with varied marking patterns.

Ain’t that an odd sight!

A shiver runs down my spine as all of them connect to my network at once and thirty new voices greet the chorus. By the time I adjust and snap back to my senses, the illusory portal is fading, and the new labs are hovering in line with the edge of the roof, letting my nursery gain access to the collection of weapons waiting there for them.

{Here you go!} one of the new raccoons chirps, scurrying over to me and offering a set of familiar injectors.

{Thanks, Little Guy,} I reply, taking the three fun cylinders and bringing them to my chest one by one.

{She named me!} the clone cheers before turning and bolting back towards the other newbies.

I didn’t mean to name him or anything… but he’s so happy… Little Guy it is!

By the way, has anyone mentioned the whole pain on mutation thing before? Because I have the mother of all tummy aches right now, and I regret everything.

“Why does this one feel so bad?!” I whine at Cyon, curling up into a ball and receiving many reassuring licks from my nursery as I wait out the process.

I may have forgotten to mention that the M.A.D is half cybernetic and includes a dimensional-shunt based install. It is a drug lab after all, what did you expect?

Meanie.

After a few minutes of suffering, the pain vanishes, and I’m left with the slightly weird feeling of new organs pressed against the others that I just seem to know how to use.

Pushing myself off the ground, my eyes are naturally drawn to the ten polished metal cylinders the size of three raccoons each lined up on one of the truck’s roofs.

Man, whoever’s designing these things knows what they’re doing. All dangerous things should be gloriously shiny!

{Okay people,} I declare loudly, clapping my hands together and drawing the entire focus of my chaotic gaze. {I want you to split into ten squads. We’ll divide the labs into two caravans of three, with five squads each for escort. Each squad is responsible for planting one warhead at a point indicated by Cyon. Evacuate any civilians you smell on the way, and let’s get this show on the road!}

{Aye aye captain!} my nursery roars back at me in sync, all throwing up adorable mock salutes before scrambling to follow my instructions.

While they’re occupied, I pull up the controls for my labs in my augs and begin designating the new ones to producing the new upgrades I bought for my siblings and their clones.

We need to grab some biomass for them to get producing though, so it looks like we’ll be making a quick trip back to the ruins of the waste processing plant before we head off. Ah well, we needed to plant a warhead there anyway.

I slip into my original lab to settle into my Squish, accompanied by my siblings, as my army of clones get comfortable spread across the vehicles’ roofs. The moment they’re all situated, I give our drivers the go ahead to take off, and they quickly shoot back towards the horribly hazardous battlefield we left behind.

“So…” I mumble, melting into the super-beanbag with three fluffballs piled on my chest. “What now?”

Your nursery can operate without your direct intervention, and there shouldn’t be any threats within the undercity that still warrant your attention, so why not take a nap?

“A nap? Wouldn’t that stop me getting points from any plants we meet?”

It would reduce your share from your army’s efforts, but they should only be cleaning up stragglers and any overflow from up top for now, and it won’t affect the points you get from detonating those warheads. It’s more worth you getting some rest now, giving your body a little more time to adjust to all the changes you’ve made to it recently, and waking up refreshed and ready to deal with your greatest challenge yet.

“Oh God, what have I got to do now?” I ask with a little excitement, flicking my tail in anticipation.

Talking the survivors who’ve hunkered down in bunkers into evacuating with you!

“Nooooo!” I cry at the injustice of life, burying my face into Stripe’s fur. “Can’t my nursery do that for me?”

That’s an option too.

…

Huh, well that was easy.

“Okay, I guess I’ll take a nap then.”

[{Hey guys, wake me up when something interesting happens or when we’re ready to go topside. Okay?}] I ask in my D.E.N call, receiving dozens of varying affirmative responses almost suspiciously fast.

I feel like I should be worried about something, but I’m already leaving a gang of raccoons with the responsibility of handling city-destroying warheads, so I think I’m already past the point of no return.

I’ll be asleep, not my problem!

And when I wake up? Well, that’s post-nap me’s problem to deal with.

I yawn and relax, wrapping my siblings in a tight hug and enjoying the noticeable dose of a calming drug slipping into my bloodstream, carrying me off to dreamland.