“I thought that giving the trash pandas sweets would make them leave me alone.

  I could not have been any more wrong.

  They loved the food I gave them, and they keep coming back for more.

  At least they bring gifts to trade for the sweets. I take them every time, even if they have been stolen.”

  --Random citizen of New Oxford.

  I have two main suggestions for defensive upgrades, but one of them I wouldn’t advise choosing. The first is the Force Unified Redistributor genetic code for one thousand points. It will convert your siblings’ fur into a network of reactive fibres that can harden at will to cushion any impacts or catch bladed weaponry.

  “That sounds useful.”

  It is. If you’re interested, there is a strain that could be applied to you as well.

  Despite my love of fluff, the idea of being covered in hair sends a shiver down my spine, and something unpleasant coils in my guts.

  “No thanks,” I practically spit, pulling my tail in and running my fingers through it as it bristles.

  If you aren’t interested in a permanent mutation, there are combat options available.

  Her suggestion tickles my interest, and my ears perk up.

  “They won’t cover me in hair?” I ask, peeking up from my tail and seeing Cyon’s avatar floating closer with an understanding glint in her sunken eyes.

  Not forever. If you purchase a specialised production organ, similar to your R.A.B.I.E.S, you can produce short-lived variants of most Prolotor viruses without the ability to permanently change you.

  “Okay, add that to our list for later, please. Back to the sibling defence stuff.”

  Cyon nods, floating back to sit on the edge of my Squish.

  My last suggestion is to upgrade your Viral Apparel catalogue to Class II to purchase reinforcements for your symbiotes. However, I wouldn’t really advise choosing it until you exhaust your current possible Class II upgrades since it will cost you your only token and three hundred points.

  “I’m not spending my token on anything else though, right?”

  Yes, but tokens are harder to earn, so I would advise saving one for emergencies if you can. You never know when you’ll want Class II explo- I mean healing items.

  I narrow my eyes but nod in agreement. She’s right after all.

  “Okay, I’ll save my token for now,” I mutter before falling silent.

  Decision time now.

  Cyon quietly fades from existence, leaving me to ponder my options.

  I have a little over two and a half thousand points to spend… are they okay out there? That’s a surprising jump.

  The lack of panic through our connection lets that thought slip away quickly.

  Right, priorities.

  Defensively, we’re probably alright for now. They just got copies of Sim, so unless we run into higher-digit Models, we should still be safe.

  Offensively, it’s probably a good idea to get them the muscle and reflex thing.

  Utility… I want them to be safe from Nines. S.N.O.O.T it is.

  That leaves me with just under a thousand points left… hmm…

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Eating stuff would be useful, but we’re just shy of having enough. Let’s get claws and jaws for now. I’ll buy C.U.D – oh god, the name’s gross too – before we get to the hive if I have enough.

  “I want the muscles, claws, and jaws, please. Those and the S.N.O.O.T.”

  Understood!

  Cyon chirps in my ear, and my point counter drops.

  ˉˉˉˉˉ

  New Purchases!

  Class II R.A.C Genetic Code – 1000 points

  Class II P.A.W Genetic Code – 300 points

  Class II Razorfang Genetic Code – 300 points

  Class II S.N.O.O.T Genetic Code – 600 points

  Total: 2200 points

  Remaining points: 356

  _____

  “Wait, don’t they need Culture Solutions?” I ask, spinning my Squish to face the back wall with the labs data readouts and curling my tail in my lap.

  The cloning process produces waste products that can be recycled to culture new batches of bacterium and viruses. As long as you’re cloning big things, you won’t have to buy separate culture for the small stuff.

  “Neat.”

  I browse through the production selection with a glance and set off the creation of three sets of each mutation virus. A separate two-minute timer pops up next to the nearly finished timer on Stripes’ clones, which ticks back up from fourteen to sixteen as the new mutations are added automatically.

  “Woah, that’s fast,” I mutter as I set three more symbiotes into production, blinking in surprise at the mutation viruses not taking enough room to block even one of them.

  A small tug in my gut tells me the lorry has started moving again as I sink back into the soft folds of my seat.

  [{Don’t we need to clean up?}]

  [{Nope!}]

  [{We covered it!}]

  [{We bought cleaning supplies!}]

  I giggle at them jumping over each other to respond to me before sending over a reassuring coo, promising head scratches later in reward.

  “Did they use their weapons budget to buy stuff to clean the corpses?”

  You could call it that.

  Her wording makes me pause, but I quickly shrug it off as a bag of chocolates tumbles into my lap from a mysterious black portal.

  Throwing some delicious, nutty chunks of the bribe into my mouth, I curl up against the now-warm, squishy membrane below me and shut my eyes.

  A soft purr rumbles in my chest, and my tail flicks against my cheek as the bag empties.

  ***

  A jolt down my spine makes my tail bristle as I leap from the Squish, looking around in confusion and panic.

  My eyes scan the inside of the lab and find nothing out of place, so I spring towards the door with my claws starting to extend before chittering laughter erupts in my mind.

  I drive my heels into the ground, sliding to a sudden halt as my eyebrow twitches.

  “Did they just wake me up with their emergency alerts?” I ask with a frigid tone.

  …

  “No no, that’s fine.”

  I calmly open the door to the lab and step out, to find myself standing before the dump’s large, rusted front gates. They’re hanging open, blocked by a pile of burning Antithesis bodies.

  Glancing up at the lorry’s roof I see Spot grinning with glee, standing on his hind legs with a large, blocky rifle clenched in his hands, spraying a torrent of liquid fire from the barrel.

  “Right… Cleaning equipment.” I roll my eyes, definitely not amused.

  I whistle a harsh tone, and immediately his expression cracks as his head snaps back to me. He drops his flamethrower, and I watch as the black strap fixed to its handle swings the weapon back to fix it against his grenade bag for him.

  Spot races over, leaping from the lorry’s roof and landing before me as Chip and Stripe scurry around it to join him, cowering under my very calm glare. Chip momentarily fades from existence before my eyes, but my glare doesn’t leave him as a nagging instinct in the back of my mind tells me he hasn’t moved yet.

  Interesting, but I’ll address that later.

  “Sim,” I hum in a sickly-sweet tone, a few octaves higher than my default tone.

  My bodysuit partner vibrates against my stomach and, a moment later, Chip reappears and my siblings’ symbiotes slip from their bodies, taking their strange new weapons with them and leaving them exposed. My eyes follow their weapons for a moment – because that looks very much like a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher – before dropping back to them flashing their best kit eyes at me.

  {You woke me up.}

  I bend down before they can beg, clasping the scruff of Chip’s neck between my teeth and taking the other two in my hands, carrying them to the back of the lab.

  The rear chute slides open as I approach, so I toss Spot and Stripe in. I take Chip from my mouth, sticking my tongue out as he whines in complaint before rolling him in to receive his mutations as well.

  Serves them right! We’ve been up for too long to disturb my break like that.

  Granted they’ve been up for a while too, and I already made us break our sleeping schedule to take a job during the day… Meh, not my fault!

  Scrambling paws draw me out of my musings, and I look over to see my siblings dragging themselves out of the lorry’s rear, slick with a clear, viscous fluid.

  {Hahaha!} I break into chittering laughter at their expense, wiping tears from my eyes and blinking as three more raccoons crawl out behind them.

  Your first batch of clones finished while you were napping.

  Cyon explains as she pops into existence, sitting on the edge of the lorry’s roof and swinging her legs.

  “I can see that. Care to explain why one of them is a baby?”

  The kit in question stumbles, rolling tail-over-head only to be caught by the two fully-grown copies of Stripe, with the same distinct facial markings and all, flanking it.

  There was an unexpected mutation during the cloning process. That clone has developed a denser bone structure than usual, and in turn has had its growth limited. It will take a few months to grow into an adult specimen.

  “Right.” I nod absentmindedly, watching the cute thing wipe gunk from her eyes and sneeze her snoot clear. “Gwen’s gonna love her.”