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Gamma Protocol (101)
🕑 Added 2025-09-28 21:37:32 +0000 UTC[101]
“I need air.”
Three simple words, but they barely made it past the constriction in my throat. The weight of everything pressed against the base of my skull, a pressure that threatened to split me open from the inside.
The conference room's recycled atmosphere clung to my skin, made worse by the suit I wore. Its fabric alone was worth more than every credit I'd ever touched. Hours ago, the Elder Meguca sitting across from me had wanted me dead. Now she’d casually threatened me after CYPHER, the CYPHER, dismantled weeks of my desperate struggle in minutes with the casual efficiency of signing a document.
With a few simple words, it had forced a government overseeing billions to acknowledge what they'd spent decades ignoring: the fourth district existed. We existed. And now, suddenly, we mattered.
That same CYPHER had also instated my own personal assistant, and then put into my hands the lives of two-million hypothetical humans. To spend at my leisure in exchange for services only CYPHER could offer.
The walls pressed inward with each shallow pull of air that wouldn't quite fill my lungs.
Before my legs finished pushing me upright, the door swung open with a silent hiss, and the ceiling lights shifted to green. The light’s glow lit the way through empty metal corridors where someone's spicy protein shake still haunted the recycled air. The elevator, devoid of any buttons, swallowed me without asking for a destination, carrying me upwards until the doors parted with a soft ding.
Nothing in my life had prepared me for the relief of that first blast of searing summer heat when I finally burst free from the metal cage and into endless blue. The wind nearly knocked me sideways, but my feet held steady against its violence.
I stood atop the third wall, extra-grip moccasins finding purchase on a surface that couldn't decide if it was metal or concrete, stretching endlessly in every direction. Markings scored the ground beneath me: lines, boundaries, access points that would swallow me if the doors opened. Behind me, New Francisco rose like a manufactured mountain against the sky.
Ahead lay... emptiness.
The wall extended until it melted into the horizon, and only there, at the very edge of vision, did it dip enough to reveal a darker stripe of blue.
My mind caught on that color and wouldn't let go. I started walking, then quickening, then running full out until the edge nearly swept beneath my feet and my hands found the railing, clutching it while I stared. Everything to the right drowned in an eternal depth of blue. Everything to the left sprawled in browns and grays.
The ocean.
Memory crashed over me: Frontier City 02, where they metered every drop, taxed every excess milliliter, recycled everything until the water tasted like metal and regret. Where showers cut off mid-soap, where ordering water with a meal drained extra credits, where food came so dehydrated it crumbled to dust between your teeth.
The wind turned, bringing the sharp bite of railgun ozone and cordite, but underneath those familiar war-scents came something else: salt and something wild, something that had never known containment. I pulled it deep into my chest until my ribs ached, choosing that pain over the memory of what had happened down there in those metal boxes. This infinite blue had existed just beyond my knowledge all along, close enough to touch if I'd only thought to look, if I'd only dared to wonder what lay beyond...
BOOM
The platform bucked beneath me as artillery exploded, and I leaned further out to glimpse the war unfolding at the horizon's edge. Distance reduced it to abstract violence: clouds of sand and dust marking where the Third Wall's defenses engaged the monsters the city's presence had lured. Shadow had warned me there was no rubber wall here. If I narrowed my eyes, I could make out the dark specks of drone swarms flying through the haze. But my gaze kept sliding back to the ocean, to those white-capped swells racing across its surface, driven wild by the scorching wind.
I quietly sat there, the searing heat of the pseudo-metallic surface underneath barely warm against my new durability.
Not bothering to think of anything at all, yet still trying to take in the scope of what had just transpired. I felt like an ant that’d just been put behind an AV’s flight-stick and told my piloting skills had been great so far.
Two million lives…
”You're healed. I'm glad.”
My muscles contracted involuntarily, a suppressed flinch that rippled beneath my skin. When I turned, Shadow stood there looking like someone who'd forgotten what sleep tasted like, yet her posture remained crisp, each movement precise.
"I received a notification you might need someone to talk to."
"CYPHER?" The name tasted metallic on my tongue.
She shook her head, dark hair shifting like liquid shadow. "Your assistant. Technically CYPHER, but distinct from the whole." Her gesture toward the space beside me carried a question, and when I nodded, she lowered herself with careful grace. "Their default settings include emotional support through non-direct interaction. Mine kept purchasing these elaborate care baskets filled with sweets until I realized what was happening. The expensive kind, with real chocolate."
The sympathetic wince pulled at my features before I could stop it. "Was it overwhelming, or is this just me?"
"Probably worse." Her voice carried the weight of memory, thick and heavy. "I could feel CYPHER's attention, its full attention." The shudder that worked through her shoulders seemed to originate somewhere deeper than muscle and bone. "To my powers, it felt like every building in the city had sprouted eyes, all of them fixed on me, watching even when I was in the badlands."
The image bloomed in my mind unbidden: walls growing eyes, every inch of space transformed into witness. My skin prickled at the thought.
"It's not watching us right now," Shadow said, her perception sharp enough to read the tension coiling in my neck. "I still have my privacy area operational. The only things looking our way are too distant to distinguish us from the background."
"How do you handle it?" The datapad felt cold in my fingers, its weight somehow both insignificant and crushing. "The... HL points."
Shadow let silence stretch between us before answering, the pause filled with the distant percussion of warfare. "Before I secured the no-watch zone, there was this mission. A meguca had been kidnapped. Elaine." The confession emerged slowly, each word carefully selected. "Turned too young to comprehend her own power, captured before she got strong enough to protect herself. The ones who'd taken her were thugs, but paranoid thugs with deep pockets. Cameras and sensors everywhere, layers upon layers of surveillance." She seemed to diminish slightly, drawing inward. "I almost didn't make it in time."
Anger flared hot and immediate in my chest at the thought of someone doing such a thing, but I pushed it down while trying to swallow the impossible pill that was Shadow’s warning: the choice between hypothetical human lives versus the reality of those that could be saved through the cost of such resources. Would killing 500 be worth saving 800? A thousand? Five? What about 500 hypothetical human lives against the life of a meguca that could potentially save millions?
The question sat uncomfortable in my chest, I couldn’t bring myself to answer it even now.
"We are megucas, Axel." Her hand found my shoulder, fingers pressing warmth through fabric. "We must do what's necessary."
"Magubo." The correction came automatically, my gaze losing itself in the endless expanse of blue ahead. "According to CYPHER, I'm a magubo."
"Oh." The hesitation made her voice waver. "What's... a magubo?"
"I don't know. Probably a weird meguca." The admission tasted bitter. It was the word Moreau had branded me with, something that existed in the space between meguca and other, but the meaning remained one big question mark. Part of me would have preferred the absence of labels entirely, or perhaps to keep wearing 'meguca' like an ill-fitting coat rather than this ambiguous designation.
BOOM
The sound rolled across the landscape. "Hundred seventy millimeters."
Shadow shifted her posture. "What?"
"The artillery. It's a hundred seventy millimeter cannon." Memory unfolded, carrying the scent of cordite and distant thunder. "We had a few back in Frontier City. They only fired maybe a handful of times each month, but they had this particular ring to them. I'd always try to catch that sound, to isolate it from the irregular chatter of auto-cannons. There's something oddly comforting about it."
Shadow's body language spoke volumes in her deliberate silence.
"This is so messed up." The laughter that escaped me was dry, devoid of humor. What did you call a relationship forged in attempted murder and hammered into mentorship through circumstance? My fingers raked through my hair, a physical attempt to reorganize scattered thoughts. "Thanks." I turned to meet her black eyes directly. "For helping me through the heist and that... mess. I don't think I would've found my way out of that particular hole alone."
"I'm your teacher." The words came too quickly, and she turned away just as fast, fingers hastily tucking a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear. "It is my duty."
"Then I guess that makes me a bad student."
The interface hovered at the edge of my vision, impatiently demanding attention even while not moving:
Level 3 [(+)][(+)]
Charisma 10 [(+)][(+)][(+)][(+)][(+)]
The prompt hung there, almost vibrating. "My system's back to normal, or at least appears to be," I spoke carefully. "I've leveled up a few times."
"That is good." Her response was careful.
"If it follows the pattern of previous times, it'll present me with power options to choose from." The clarification felt necessary. "If that happens, I... would appreciate your input."
The sound that emerged from Shadow was part word, part strangled vocalization, a noise that existed purely as exclamation before dying when she straightened with electric suddenness. "This is a personal choice, only you can decide what path to take." The tone betrayed borrowed words, someone else's wisdom. Then she squirmed, authenticity breaking through. "But... I could share wisdom if you wish."
"Fair warning, last time I ended up unconscious for a while, and I have this feeling the system's preparing to sucker-punch me with this one."
The thought had barely completed its circuit through my mind when the notifications began their cascade, a dam finally surrendering to pressure too long contained.
Level 3 -> 4 -> 5
Charisma 10 -> 11 -> 12 -> 13 -> 14 -> 15
I braced for the familiar crash into darkness, muscles already tensing for the fall. Shadow shifted to catch me. But nothing happened. No darkness, no weird fever dreams. Instead, warmth bloomed from my core and light began seeping through my skin, golden and soft. The sensation that followed wasn't pain or exhaustion but something almost obscene in its pleasantness, like every nerve had discovered how to sing.
”What the...” I lifted my hands, watching light pool beneath the skin like a captured floodlight. Shadow froze mid-reach, arms suspended where she'd expected to catch dead weight. Her expression cycled through confusion before settling into tactical assessment, and she circled me once while the glow pulsed with my heartbeat. Each pulse brought a wave of euphoria that slowly died down.
The golden light faded gradually, sinking back beneath my skin and leaving a tingling awareness in its wake.
”Weird,” I muttered.
L̸e̵v̵e̸l̵ U̸p̵! - L̸e̵v̵e̸l̵ U̸p̵!
AP Storage Limit: 200 -> 300
Stat Cap: 400 -> 500
Passive AP Per Hour: 0.5 -> 2
Mode Base Stat Gain (per AP): +8 -> +9(C-Class Integrated) -> Achievements Upgraded
I’d barely had the time to blink, to try and process the idea of the C-class somehow counting as my kill, before other notifications began flooding in, nine of them in total, each vibrating in demand for attention, each one squabbling with the others, demanding my eyes.
U̸̜͒p̶̤̄g̢̬̓r̘̋͡ȃ̯́d̩̅͢e̡̤͊ ̩͗͜U̴̳ͮn̙̓͘l̴̺̅o͓̓͝c̰̾͟kͩ͏̞e̛̱̍d̯͛̕
Pick one
Level up 3 -> 4
Damage Feedback: A portion of all damage taken over a period of 5 seconds is turned into a proportional amount of AP.
Quick Drip: Human only: each full hour out of form increases passive AP generation by +0.5 AP, up to +25 / hour. Resets on transform.
Adaptive Shell: Per every consecutive instance of damage received of a specific damage type, increase your resistance to it.
U̸̜͒p̶̤̄g̢̬̓r̘̋͡ȃ̯́d̩̅͢e̡̤͊ ̩͗͜U̴̳ͮn̙̓͘l̴̺̅o͓̓͝c̰̾͟kͩ͏̞e̛̱̍d̯͛̕
Pick one
Level up 4 -> 5
Waste Reclaimer: For every 12 AP spent, refund 1 AP immediately. Tracks cumulatively across actions. Example: spend 36 AP, get 3 AP back.
EZ-Mode: Achievements cost 75% of original requirement. Each time an achievement is earned, give +50% progression to a stat level up, the % goes down per repetition down to 5% minimum.
Surge Window: The first 4 seconds in any mode cost 0 AP, once per mode per transformation.
U̸̜͒p̶̤̄g̢̬̓r̘̋͡ȃ̯́d̩̅͢e̡̤͊ ̩͗͜U̴̳ͮn̙̓͘l̴̺̅o͓̓͝c̰̾͟kͩ͏̞e̛̱̍d̯͛̕
Pick one
Charisma 10 -> 15
Deep Reserves: Increase Maximum AP by +10 per point in human form Durability. Increase passive AP generation by +0.5 AP / hour per 5 points in Endurance. Increase mode base gain be +1 AP / second per 3 points in Strength.
Threshold Shift: So long as you have no active achievements, you retain your human form. If a stat reaches a point where an achievement is earned, your transformation begins.
Inheritance Protocols: Touch an ally to grant either one F-class trait copy (or lower) or +5 to a stat for 2 hours. Cost 15 AP, stack up to 2 times per ally.
The interface hung before me like a fever dream, and I sat there panting. The options pressed against the inside of my skull, not their specific contents but their sheer presence, demanding action. The weight settled across the front of my brain, bearable for now, though I could feel its weight. It was the sort of pressure I might be able to take for a handful of hours at best.
“Well, that's new.” The words emerged rough, my throat suddenly raw. I tilted my head, speaking out loud for Shadow’s sake. “Rather than presenting the possible upgrade blocks one at a time, it's displaying all three simultaneously.” The windows jostled for dominance in my field of vision, overlapping and shoving, the visual chaos sent tendrils of pain threading through my temples. “I think the system's attempting to help, but maintaining focus is... difficult.”
“Changes come from within, not without.” Shadow's words were not hers, I was sure of it, someone’s teaching, probably Fulton’s. “What the system offers is merely the framework for an alteration you will make unto yourself. Don't forget that fundamental truth.”
“But...” The question formed from confusion and curiosity in equal measure. ”The system sometimes has knowledge it shouldn't possess, things I never learned and certainly couldn't have taught it.”
”It’s probably from the same place where dreams of orange jungles and floating mountains originate.” Her sigh carried layers of frustration, the sound of someone who'd wrestled with the same enigma and found frustration. “It remains a question the Elders have pondered without resolution.”
Memories stirred at her words: the voice that wasn't quite a voice, the presence that wore monstrosity yet was something else, that entity singing its incomprehensible song that had nearly drowned me. The question lingered for a heartbeat before I set it aside, nine prompts were demanding my attention.
Damage Feedback: A portion of all damage taken over a period of 5 seconds is turned into a proportional amount of AP.
Quick Drip: Human only: each full hour out of form increases passive AP generation by +0.5 AP, up to +25 / hour. Resets on transform.
Adaptive Shell: Per every consecutive instance of damage received of a specific damage type, increase your resistance to it.
“Well, the first choice presents three options.” I forced myself to articulate while chewing the concepts verbally… a new thing. “One allows me to get AP from taking damage, another increases passive AP generation the longer I remain untransformed, and the third...” The words caught briefly before continuing. “The third lets me absorb hits more effectively the more instances of that type of damage I take.”
I paused, parsing through the proposal. “I already possess an achievement that covers that third option. Hit-me-thrice, it's...” The sentence dissolved as the only readily available example I had was from when she’d tried to murder me. “It works as the name goes.” I quickly deflected. “I think I want the first one. The C-class attack made it brutally clear that my greatest vulnerability lies in facing a single powerful opponent without having built momentum from weaker enemies first.”
”Would your survivability increase through this path?” Shadow's words kept deliberate neutrality, each syllable carefully measured. “The ability specifically gives AP proportional to damage, while evolutionary pressure responds to the number of instances. Wouldn't survival favor allowing yourself superficial scratches to develop resistance, rather than inviting the blade to bite deep? Especially if you already get the achievement?” Her gaze found mine. “Compounding effects often exceed their constituent parts exponentially. You shouldn't dismiss the prospect of simple survival. Today's shame becomes tomorrow's strength.”
The words settled in my mouth like ash.
Because I knew with crystalline clarity what would have happened to the fourth district if I'd chosen flight over confrontation. Right now, the entire sector under Sewer Saint control would have-
“Do not interpret my words as argument.” Shadow's interruption came swift, clearly reading something in my posture I hadn't intended to telegraph. “This path belongs to you alone. I merely offer another perspective.”
“Let's complete the review first, then decide.” The deflection came easier than I thought it might.
Waste Reclaimer: For every 12 AP spent, refund 1 AP immediately. Tracks cumulatively across actions. Example: spend 36 AP, get 3 AP back.
EZ-Mode: Achievements cost 75% of original requirement. Each time an achievement is earned, give +50% progression to a stat level up, the % goes down per repetition down to 5% minimum.
Surge Window: The first 4 seconds in any mode cost 0 AP, once per mode per transformation.
“The second batch includes what feels like a discount coupon power, which... feels useless against the other two. One option is Ez-mode, it was previously offered. It’s kind of something that incentivizes transforming over and over to push my baseline stats up while making achievement costs lower. The other, surge window, gives what’s effectively free AP in every mode, once per transformation.”
Silence pooled between us, and I found myself thinking aloud to fill it.
“Surge window presents another solid option for situations where I'm AP-starved. It would render me less helpless.”
Another beat passed before Shadow shifted slightly, discomfort bleeding through her careful composure. “How... influential would you characterize your base human-form stats in terms of overall progression?”
The question arrived unexpectedly, forcing me to consider. My hand found my cheek, fingers scratching absently at stubble. “Well, two seconds spent on any mode currently provides more enhancement than my existing baseline. But the system's consistency regarding number values remains... questionable at best.”
A chirp of indignation emanated from the various windows. I dismissed it without acknowledgement.
“Even if I were to accumulate ten levels in strength, I'd remain weaker than three seconds spent in strength mode.”
“Today, perhaps.” Her tone was careful. ”But consider the future. When you've earned not ten levels but a hundred? Two hundred? Five? Abilities that transform exponential growth costs into something closer to linear are... extraordinarily coveted.” She leaned forward slightly, investment creeping through her voice. “And the fact that it simultaneously reduces the difficulty of reaching achievement-based power spikes during a fight shouldn't be dismissed lightly.”
She had a point. There existed the additional consideration that it might potentially synergize with the AP-from-hits upgrade… Better to move forward.
“The last trio are different.” The words emerged slowly, each one carefully excavated from instinct rather than knowledge. ”They're tied not to levels but to a useless stat. The feeling they give is...”
The sensation defied easy description, but it resonated with something deeper, something that echoed the transformation I'd become trapped in over the past week or so. I couldn't articulate the source of this gut feeling, only that it existed with the weight of truth. Examining this group felt like holding a loaded syringe up to the light: the contents remained opaque, simultaneously ominous and intriguing, promising change without revealing its nature.
Deep Reserves: Increase Maximum AP by +10 per point in human form Durability. Increase passive AP generation by +0.5 AP / hour per 5 points in Endurance. Increase mode base gain be +1 AP / second per 3 points in Strength.
Threshold Shift: So long as you have no active achievements, you retain your human form. If a stat reaches a point where an achievement is earned, your transformation begins.
Inheritance Protocols: Touch an ally to grant either one F-class trait copy (or lower) or +5 to a stat for 2 hours. Cost 15 AP, stack up to 2 times per ally.
”Deep reserves allows me to bind multiple baseline aspects to different stats.” My fingers found their own rhythm against my knees. “AP maximum storage would tie to durability, passive AP generation to endurance, and the amount of stats earned per AP consumed would link to strength.” It was rather straightforward, all things considered. I could see some potential when combined with EZ-mode too. “The second option makes it possible to spend AP in a mode up to a certain threshold without triggering transformation, which...” The thought trailed off as I chewed on the concept a bit more. ”It feels like an acknowledgment of the streams I’ve done, fighting monsters in my human form. It feels interesting, but I still prefer the first one.”
A contemplative hum vibrated in my throat as I sorted through impressions.
Shadow's questioning sound carried as she broke the silence. “Just two?”
”I mean, there's a third one.” The admission came with a shrug that tried to convey dismissal and failed. “Something about temporarily granting an F-class trait I've learned or adding five points to someone else's stat in exchange for some AP, but honestly, I don't think that would be particularly-”
“Take it.”
The words erupted from her with such force that her hand immediately flew to cover her mouth, as if trying to snatch them. I turned to study her face, confused.
Interest sharpened into focus. ”What would be interesting about that ability?” The question hung between us while I worked through the details. ”I can see some minor applications, certainly, but someone with plus five to senses isn't going to perceive better than a standard sensor array might detect.” My fingers found my chin in thought. ”I suppose there might be rescue applications? Granting someone plus five durability would improve their survival odds during extraction, or plus five endurance might help them weather the strain of extended operations.”
“I think I can't comment without bias, sorry.” The apology quickly, glancing away. ”This should be your choice.”
“I'd like your opinion.”
Her hands moved with indecision, opening and closing in a strange rhythm. ”I... cannot tell you whether this particular path might lead somewhere meaningful or not.” Each word was spoken with careful consideration. “Many megucas, myself included, have discovered dead ends in our progression, branches we believed held promise that ultimately withered.” Her gesture encompassed both of us. “For example, I possess an ability that blinds a target for several seconds, but it requires extremely specific conditions that I believed would become less restrictive as my power grew. They didn't.”
She paused, allowing that disappointment to hang there before she continued.
”The reason my response emerged so forcefully is because megucas who can empower others are severely rare, and none that I know of accomplish it through the direct method you're describing.” Her voice carried weight now, each word heavy with implication. “Perhaps at this stage you could only grant minor enhancements, small advantages that barely register. But if it grows… it’s the reason why CYPHER considers such powers a high-priority trait classification”
Her words hung heavy.
I blinked, the implications settling like ice water in my veins as I realized I’d been thinking about it wrong.
Granting someone +5 to a single stat would prove far less useful than something like: +2 to two complementary abilities and +1 to support. Strength without durability would shatter bones like kindling; speed without agility became an elaborate death trap.
What could be possible if I granted twelve people +5 across all stats? What if I could make the Stomach passive trait become permanent? The possibility tasted metallic on my tongue, the starvation problem would have become far easier to tackle if anything organic could be consumed.
It was clear why CYPHER deemed it so important.
“I agree with the concept.” The admission scraped past my throat as I thought back to the monster rush, precious minutes spent herding and organizing panicked civilians into building desperate fortifications. How many would have survived if they had worked with enhanced strength? Endurance? Perhaps the system recognized those efforts, that potential.
Still, unease coiled through my gut like something alive as I looked at the ability. The sensation it gave off was different to the other two. It was like finding a data-chit on wet pavement: every nerve screamed to sanitize it ten times over, but it felt too significant to ignore.
The pop-ups vibrated against my consciousness, impatience growing now that they sensed I was reaching a decision.
I reviewed the options twice more, just to be thorough.
“Here goes nothing.”
Damage Feedback.
Ez-Mode.
Inheritance Protocols.
The three upgrades crashed through my nervous system in a cascade of opposing sensations. The first two flowed like twin streams of cool water down a parched throat, washing through with the blessed relief of shade after hours beneath a searing summer sun. They passed quickly, leaving crystalline clarity in their wake.
Then the third arrived.
It coiled through my throat like diesel, viscous and wrong, spreading tendrils through my circulatory system that made my skin ripple with revulsion. The sensation burrowed deep before finally settling as a coal of heat in my stomach, pulsing with alien warmth.
“Blegh.” The sound tore from my mouth as my body convulsed, muscles contracting in waves of rejection. A full minute passed before the gagging subsided, leaving me trembling and hollow. “That was horrible.” The words emerged raw as I pushed myself upright, brushing dust from clothes that suddenly felt too tight against raw skin.
Shadow's extended water bottle appeared in my peripheral vision, and I accepted it with unsteady fingers. “Thanks.” The croak barely qualified as speech before I tilted the bottle back, cool liquid soothing tissues that felt scraped and tender.
”Is it always like that?”
“First time it's been so...” The shudder worked through me involuntarily, aftershocks rippling through my body. A quick glance at the system's stat screen confirmed the abilities had taken root.
Shadow's nod carried understanding without pity. “We should head inside. You need proper food.” She turned toward the building, her movements carrying that particular brand of purpose that brooked no argument. “Before you return to the fourth district, we should take the opportunity to record a baseline of your current capabilities. That way, CYPHER will be better equipped to determine optimal deployment during emergencies.”
“Yeah… also to check what else’s there, I feel like the system hasn’t shown everything yet.” The word escaped more as an exhale than agreement as I followed her into the elevator's waiting mouth. Cool air wrapped around me like a shroud, and I found myself staring at my reflection in the polished metal of the closing doors rather than meeting her gaze.
Optimal.
The word sat heavy on my tongue, its taste mixing with the lingering burn.
Bitter didn't begin to describe it.
Comments
bubba
Yes Shadow! Fight against the Mugabo name! All shall be as Meguca!
Gingiberry
And here I thought she wanted him to take inheritance cuz she wanted to able to be “fluffy” as she puts it
