KeroKeron

  "You know, you should be proud.”

  *Muffled screaming*

  “When you show up at the pearly gates, and the funny-looking grim reaper asks for your method of death, you can tell him you took part in an important scientific study.”

  *Chains rattling*

  “With a few very willing participants, you get to answer one of the internet's oldest questions about raccoons and the human body.”

  *Muted wailing and chittering raccoons*

  --Redacted recording of Elise taking part in the UK’s political scene and having a “friendly chat” with an unnamed politician who “doesn’t believe climate change is real”, shortly before they changed their mind. Hosted on the Prolotor Active Wavecast, channel ????.

  {Awning, Candy, Regi, Butch, Shadow, and Halo!}

  All six identical raccoons stand on their hind legs, giving me proud salutes as I designate them their names.

  You’re going to be incredibly disappointed when you run out of thematic names, aren’t you?

  “Oh, totally.”

  Giggling at her exaggerated sigh, I leave the clones to pick their weapons and slip behind the b to grab a sample of Sim’s next upgrade.

  {Chip, Spot, Stripe,} I call my siblings over, moving to the front of the b. {You guys ready? Leave anything you don’t need to fight in the b.}

  They gnce at each other, and Stripe reaches out to stick her paws into Chip’s tail, pulling out a silver hat buckle before tossing it over to Awning.

  {Yep!} she chirps an eager answer, grinning up at me as Spot holds our brother’s snout shut when he tries to compin.

  {Perfect, let’s go!}

  I lead them into the dump as the small army of Stripe’s clones load into the b and start it up, lifting the floating garbage truck from the ground and turning it to fly off towards our shared objective.

  We approach the lightly humming, flickering green embers of pnt matter burning at the far end of the facility, and Sim springs up to wrap my ears, immediately filtering out the irritating noise without affecting my ability to hear my siblings’ gentle pawfall beside me.

  I don’t hesitate at the edge of the pit, leaping over and falling down parallel to the scorched wall. My siblings leap after me, shooting out their P.E.L.Ts to slow their descents while I reach out and flex my cws from my fingers before driving them into the wall, carving a deep groove as I slow to a perfect halt on the ground below.

  I gnce through my augs as we stalk towards the mound of machinery stacked over the Antithesis tunnel, frowning at the ck of response from Gwen.

  That’s worrying.

  She was just meant to be getting Shadowfme’s attention. It can’t take that long, right?

  {Pervert!} Chip’s squeak startles me out of my thoughts.

  {What?} I ask as my head snaps to him, tilting my head in confusion.

  {There’s a pervert!} he excims proudly, lifting his nose from the ground and standing on his hind legs to point at a rusted car door hanging from its hinges.

  Why does that handle look like it’s painted on?

  I wordlessly reach into one of my pockets before pulling out a throwing knife, wiping it on my tail to apply a dose of DogEater, and flicking it into the door.

  The Nine’s camoufge breaks as the knife hits, and its small, tentacle-like limbs writhe in pain as the bacteria consumes it.

  {I can see why you chose it, but maybe pick something else?}

  {Perverts!} he cheers before scampering off ahead, fading from sight as he goes.

  “Haa,” I sigh in defeat and follow him.

  Stripe leaps onto the back of my leg as I walk, cmbering up to sit on my shoulder and pat my head with sympathy.

  The moment we peer into the hole sinking beneath the dump, the tentacles of a Four sh out towards us from the underside of a wrecked industrial crane hanging directly over us. Before it can reach me though, a hiss and a thunk sound behind it, and a small, spiralling rocket embeds itself into the pnt’s torso.

  Its limbs freeze and, a second ter, its chest cavity colpses in on itself before erupting with gore as the tentacled freak drops from the roof with a heavy thud.

  Seriously, what’s with these things and scaling surfaces? Do they think raccoons don’t look up or something?

  “What was that?” I ask Cyon, refusing to give the smug-looking Chip any praise for taking out the pnt he should have warned us about when he walked past.

  A rocket with an implosive payload, obviously. After your st fight, I made the suggestion that Chip should select some single target options to use when there’s a chance of friendly fire.

  “That’s sensible… I probably shouldn’t have given him access to explosives in the first pce, but ah well. It’s not like I’m pnning on cloning him and giving the clones access to an alien armoury or anything. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

  New Oxford is truly doomed.

  {Doomed!} Spot, Chip, and Stripe all echo her in sync.

  {That it is my fine furry friends,} I hum with a touch of amusement, hopping into the gaping hole and sliding down the snted dirt wall.

  I only slide a short distance before the tunnel opens up into a wide metal pipe. We tumble out into the air for a moment before hitting the sludge-covered ground with a gross squelch.

  We all get our feet below us as we nd (take that, cats! Raccoons can do it too!), and I gnce back up at the hole we fell through.

  The wall of the pipe is jagged and uneven, as if it were violently torn open.

  “Damn,” I mutter in awe at the damage to the several-inch thick metal sheets. “Where the hell are the pnts that can do that?”

  …

  “What?” I tilt my head as Cyon’s avatar forms in the darkness before me, standing on thin air with her paws on her hips, shaking her head disappointedly.

  Haven’t you ever heard of setting death fgs?

  “Yeah, who hasn’t? Isn’t that what you’re meant to do when you want a fun new beasty to fight? Though, I’m not sure pnts count as beasts…”

  The distinctive slosh of something shifting through waste bounces off the pipe’s walls towards us, and my head snaps towards the source, my ears twitching forward to eagerly pinpoint the sound.

  Is this my culprit?

  The noise grows louder, and I lower my stance, fading from sight as my cws extend, waiting with bated breath as something approaches around the bend of the tunnel.

  To my utter disappointment, a flood of Threes, Fours, almost certainly unseen Nines, and even a few Tens for good luck, charge into our sight, heading towards the hole to the surface.

  ‘Tsk,’ I click my tongue under my breath before grumbling soundlessly. ‘I tried so hard on that one too!’

  Not letting the sad mini horde get the best of me, I burst into motion, springing off a nearby wall and firing towards our enemies. My cws rend through pnt flesh, dropping two Threes and spattering their green blood across their nearby comrades.

  They turn to the falling corpses, but I’ve already moved on as their heads shift, effortlessly ducking under a Four to rip apart the Nine clinging to its back, an old trick.

  A few quiet hisses and pops echo off the walls as Chip and Stripe unload their weapons into the pnts too, and, after a dozen seconds of focused Xeno culling, a burst of fmes illuminates the space.

  The fire burns a little way around the bend, forming a burning wall and cutting off the rear of the swarm, leaving only the stragglers on this side for us to deal with.

  [{Good thinking!}] I praise Spot through our connection as my tail whips out, batting away a small monkey leaping past and covering it in bacteria and enzymes that quickly eat through its flesh.

  We fall into a comfortable rhythm, dancing through the aliens and mixing the rancid waste swirling around our feet with rapidly decaying pnt matter.

  “This is too easy,” I mutter aloud as I fling a throwing knife into a Three’s chest, catching a shimmer of a raccoon leaping up to tear the bde free along with a hefty chunk of pnt flesh.

  A distant thud tickles my ears moments after the words leave my mouth, and my head snaps to the wall of fire. The deep thumping gets louder quickly, like the beating hooves of a charging horse, and, before Cyon even has a chance to sass about my fg setup, my hard work pays off.

  A lorry-sized body throws itself through the fmes, clearly unconcerned about the fleeting heat as it rockets straight towards me despite my cloaking.

  I dive to the side, getting a face-full of putrid sludge as I roll out of the way and the Antithesis sms into some of its brethren, reducing them to a sickly green pulp.

  I find my feet quickly, spinning to take in our new adversary.

  I take it back.

  It’s not a lorry-sized body, it’s three connected car-sized ones! And it kind of looks like an eldritch squid with its freaky, mouthless faces.

  “Now that’s a beasty to make Lovecraft proud!”

  I should probably be offended by Cyon’s shocked excmation in my head, asking if I actually read, but I’m too busy weighing up my next meal to care.

  “You think it tastes like camari?”