Page 196 of Godslayer
Why me?
“Pull the trigger—watch 'em vanish!One twitch and your target’s shakin’ in limbo, slippin’ sideways into a dimension so unstable, even death won’t follow.”
9%...
“Contain 'em! Banish 'em!Torment'em, if that’s your fancy! We don’t ask questions—we just displace.”
“Yeah, yeah, torment 'em, got it—just fuckin’ load already.”
12%...
“PhaseTether: Because dead is too easy.WARNING! Highly unstable! Side effects may include spontaneous howling, spatial screaming, and cosmic regret!”
15%...
Of course there’s muzak. I hum along like a jackass, because of course I know the tune. Everyone who’s ever bled in the Outlands does.
Fuckin’ Myra. She was the one who loved the mods.
Don’t think about that shit now, Tyse. Focus. You don’t need to wait for the update! You’re a goddamned Sweep Augment!
Right.
Let’s go. No more sales pitch. No more spark miracles. Just me, my hands, and the shit left over.
I move through the tunnels like I was built for it—low light, close quarters, blood in the air. My boots splash through standing water and streaks of something thicker. Every few steps, a mutant lunges from the dark.
One gets a blade through the throat—flesh parts like wet paper.
Another drops from the ceiling—I grab its jaw mid-roar and snap it sideways.
Crack. Toss. Step.
I don’t breathe hard. Don’t break rhythm. This is muscle memory.
This isme.
Shoulderin’ a corner, I spot him before he sees me. He’s hunched over, limp in his gait, hauling a couple of packs like they weigh more than he does.
My fuckin’ rucks.
Every instinct goes quiet. No rage, no nerves, just target lock.
Luther.
That wired-up psychopathlived. And not just lived—he’s draggin’ both of my Versi ammo rucks like they’re trophies.
He stumbles forward, muttering to himself, “We unspooled her, didn’t we? We did, we did…”
Heat rises up inside me, burning rage.
Unspooled her.
Calm down, Tyse. Breathe. She’s fine. She gave you spark less than ten minutes ago. Whatever they did, it didn’t work.
OK. I’m good. I’m calm. But this one here, he’s not gettin’ away. Even if he didn’t have my gear, he’s got seconds left in this life.
I step out in to the dim light of the tunnel, purposefully letting my boots scuff on the ground so he hears me.
