Okay, three it is.

  There we go, Mum, all done. You did great.

  Here’s your third. His markings aren’t as distinct as Spot and Stripe’s. I wonder what we should- hey!

  Stop squirming, you’re sli- oh shit. Get back here!

  ...

  There, got you!

  Wait, what’s that? No! Don’t you dare! Open your mouth, young man, you’re only meant to drink milk while you’re little!

  Whew, that was close. How did he even find this? Aren’t they born blind?

  Maybe he just really likes chips?

  Wait a second...

  --Elise’s mind during her siblings’ births, 2031

  The cascade of dark sludge tears through Cyon’s avatar, pooling at our feet in three small puddles.

  [“Are those?”] Gwen hums, glancing between the black bodysuit clinging to my chest and the bubbling pools.

  [“Yes,”] I say hurriedly, hugging my tail and looking away as my cheeks glow red and the shiny woman’s eyes literally light up at my reaction. [“They’re called clothing symbiotes. I cloned some spares for my-”]

  Chip, Spot, and Stripe all leap off the truck, diving in the inky blobs in front of us.

  [“-siblings,”] I finish, sending a small burst of gratitude across our connection as Gwen chuckles at my siblings tumbling past us, battling with the symbiotes trying to cover their bodies as if their lives depended on it.

  They slide to a stop, coated in a slick black sludge that completely covers their fur as they go still.

  My face finally cools down and I move my tail back behind me as Gwen watches the motionless raccoons with rapt attention, not even sparing me a glance.

  I knew this suit wasn’t exactly hiding much, but I didn’t think I’d feel this… exposed.

  I feel the blush rising to my cheeks again as my gaze lingers on the shiny woman beside me who… is it just me, or is her hair glowing?

  A flicker of motion snaps my attention back to my siblings, and I pull back the hand that totally wasn’t reaching out to touch a hologram.

  All three of my fluffy companions start squirming in sync, and the slick-looking sludge coating them shrinks, as if being absorbed into their skin, until the only sign of it left is the familiar bowler hat on Chip’s head.

  Before I even have a chance to comment on it, Gwen breaks out in tittering laughter that sends butterflies to my stomach.

  [“Is there something I’m missing here?”] I ask after she finally calms down and wipes non-existent tears from her eyes.

  Is she not crying because she’s a digital construct, or is that from the funky eyes?

  [“That’s a popular hat, right?”] I continue as Gwen turns her focus back to me, clutching her stomach and trying her best not to start laughing again. [“He finds them all the time.”]

  Okay, this time I’m sure she’s glowing.

  Her eyes are doing it too!

  [“Not at all!”] she beams, her hair increasing by at least twenty lumens. [“Remember that professor I said they drove mad? He’s the only man I’ve ever seen with a hat like that!”]

  [“Oh…”] I mutter, reaching into a pocket on my leg and finding the cold touch of metal.

  I raise my hand and look down at the silver buckle in my palm, courtesy of Sim’s sorting system, as the striking image of the raccoon-sized tower of silver metal in our den flashes through my mind.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  [“That… makes a lot of sense.”]

  Gwen can’t help herself and breaks down giggling again the moment the light of her eyes passes over the buckle in my grip. After a second, I find myself joining her as Chip puffs his chest out with pride before scrambling forward to take the buckle back from me.

  My laughter calms down as his hat dissolves into goop that he pushes the buckle into before they both seep down into his fur.

  The buckle vanishes from sight, I’m assuming held by his symbiote.

  That’s probably better than the grenade bag, right?

  [“Living clothes…”] Gwen says, finally having calmed down thanks to Chip removing his hat. [“It’s a little creepy honestly, but I guess it seems convenient. How are they fed?”]

  [“I think they drink my blood?”] I respond unsurely, tilting my head and watching her recoil at my response, glancing down at the organic mesh covering me.

  [“Gross…”]

  A small grin cracks my expression and Gwen narrows her eyes, preparing to question if I’m messing with her.

  Which I think I am? No wait, I swear I remember Cyon saying something about eating from my bloodstream, so I guess that is the truth. Huh, maybe it is kind of gross?

  Anyway, before I’m forced to dig myself out of the comfy hole I’ve dug and explain that Sim is lovely and nothing to be scared of, Gwen freezes, staring into the distance with her gaze unfocused. The pretty flush drains from her cheeks in an instant and her eyes widen, the enchanting light within fading as her mouth parts, her lower jaw quivering ever so slightly as no sound comes out.

  For a woman clad in armour, she looks disturbingly fragile at the moment, and I feel a sharp pain in my heart as I watch her deflate.

  ‘Cyon,’ I soundlessly mutter before I can think. ‘I bought a cyberwarfare catalogue, right? Can I use that to send her a raccoon?’

  On it.

  She responds in my mind without pause and, a moment later, I blink, and a chunky bundle of fluff appears beside me. It charges towards Gwen, leaping up and diving into her chest.

  She blinks in surprise, snapping out of her shock as her avatar’s arms wrap around the raccoon, holding it fast. She runs her fingers through the softly purring trash panda’s fluff while refocusing on me, her eyes regaining a small spark of their original glistening splendour.

  [“Stormsurge is dead,”] she says, her voice a little shaky at the start but quickly regaining its strength as her construct squeezes the raccoon. [“At least, I think he is. I just received an automated message that was linked to a dead man’s switch in his augs, so he’s either dead or incapacitated amongst the horde in the west.”]

  [“Fuck…”] I mutter quietly as my mind spins.

  I may not have known him personally, but I still had faith he wouldn’t get himself killed!

  Stormsurge is one of the Samurai that helped rebuild this city, and even I’ve heard him whining on about caution since the council loves playing his speeches through their annoyingly-loud speakers at events.

  That man sounded like he’d wear Kevlar to avoid a paper cut... What the hell!

  [“So, the horde…”] I start, watching Gwen’s brow crease as she starts pacing back and forth.

  [“It must be worse than we thought,”] she finishes for me. [“If he felt like he was struggling, Dom would’ve asked for help. But, I didn’t receive anything till his... final message. Iysaac, any ideas?”]

  [Yes, Miss Gwen,] a smooth, baritone voice whispers in my ears.

  I start with surprise as I’m nearly blinded by a glistening orb of light bursting into existence beside Gwen.

  Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration thanks to my fancy mutated eyes adjusting to the drastic change in brightness in an instant, but it still feels mean!

  The glowing ball breaks apart, splitting into countless tiny motes of light that drift about aimlessly in a small, focused cluster. Gwen doesn’t bat an eye at the bright light and fixes it with a serious glare that forces the comment I want to make back down my throat.

  [There are many possible reasons, but my calculations suggest there are likely one or more high-level stealth units among the horde,] says the light cluster, presumably Iysaac, growing and shrinking in sync with the words still being whispered into my ears despite them lying flat against my head to try and escape him. [A combination of communications jamming ECM and high-level combat ability would be the easiest way for the Antithesis to have achieved this outcome.]

  Gwen nods thoughtfully, seemingly unbothered by her AI’s unsettling voice as she mutters something under her breath without transferring it through our call.

  I don’t interrupt her pacing, choosing instead to rock back and forth in place as I wait, glaring at Iysaac with my teeth bared.

  Though, now that I think about it, it’s almost the same as Cyon speaking to me, just outside my head instead of in...

  Nope, still don’t like it!

  Gwen finally stops and turns her attention back to me, not even glancing at my siblings dragging a dead Four past her feet to feed it to the lab. Her serious expression cracks, softening and letting a little amusement bleed through when I bat my eyes at her, pretending she didn’t just catch me growling at her AI.

  [“It looks like my break time’s over,”] she says, trying to smile at me despite it not quite reaching her eyes. [“I need to try to get Shadowflame’s attention now so we can figure out what to do next, so I’m going to leave you here for now.”]

  [“Can I help at all?”] I ask, trying to ignore the feeling of a knife being driven into my chest when even her fake smile falters at my offer.

  [“Focus on dealing with your hive for now, and I’ll let you know once I’ve figured something out,”] she replies as her avatar begins fading, lifting the digital raccoon in her arms before planting a kiss on its forehead and winking at me. [“Thanks, Elise.”]

  Blood rushes to my face again, flushing my cheeks pink as I pout at thin air.

  Despite the slight irritation nagging in the back of my mind that she didn’t let me say goodbye before leaving, a firm determination forms in my chest, right next to the warm bundle of emotions that that wink totally didn’t send into disarray.

  Next time, I’m making sure she smiles properly.