The Residents are Evil

Maxwell slowly regains consciousness, his mind still shrouded in fog as he tries to understand what has happened. The distant sound of waves crashing on the beach echoes in his ears, mixed with the icy wind that cuts through his clothes. His body is tense and trembling, not from fear, but from the intense cold that wraps around him like an icy blanket.

Opening his eyes, Maxwell is greeted by a desolate landscape: the ocean's vastness stretches as far as the eye can see, under a grey sky that promises more storms. The dark sandy beach stretches out in front of him, punctuated by familiar houses built in the shallows.

"What the hell, where I am? *cough* *cough*" With an effort, Maxwell stands up, his legs still shaky and weak. Maxwell feels a bitter taste in his mouth as he tries to get his bearings, followed by a violent cough that makes him spit out salt water. His lips are dry and cut, and his tongue runs over his parched lips in search of relief.

"Wasn't I in a sewer? So this water... I hope the sea has diluted it."

Maxwell picks up his canteen of water and soothes his chapped lips. He turns round to take a look at the rest of the beach and stops abruptly, using your willpower not to let your canteen fall out of your hands. A shiver runs down his spine, not just from the penetrating cold, but from the familiar sight of trees.

"Trees? Pandora doesn't have a single tree, unless..."

[Special quest detected.]

"Please, no... just no."

[Generating quest…]

"For heaven's sake, don't play with my heart!"

[Quest:

( ) Escape from Zombie Island

( ) Kill Dr.Ned {optional}

( ) Destroy or sell the experiments carried out on the island to Atlas or Jakobs {optional}

( ) Don't get bitten for your entire stay on the island {optional}

Reward: $100 + ??? + ??? + ???] 

"Ha... haha... hahahahaha! *cough* *COUGH*" Maxwell's laughter is interrupted by a fit of coughing, each hack wracking his body as if he's trying to expel the fear that has lodged itself deep in his chest. "I'm so fucked."

*Groan*

"!!!" Drawing out his p2016 Maxwell pointed to where he had heard the sound, his hands still shaking, diminishing his accuracy.

"YOU! Aren't you dead yet?" Maxwell was surprised to see the zombified Rook a few meters away from him. The zombie seemed to have a problem walking, as it was slowly dragging itself somewhere. Maxwell followed its lead, his eyes widening as he saw the zombie's goal.

"Die already!" Maxwell was about to squeeze the trigger, but stopped when he considered that the noise might attract more zombies, or worse, those werewolf enemies, wereskag?

Grabbing his Data Knife, Maxwell approaches Rook from behind and plunges the knife into his skull, with a twist of the handle he ensures that the man never gets up again. He pushes harder to get the blade out, taking a bit of Rook's brain with him, something disgusting, but these visions have become commonplace since he arrived in Pandora.

What he didn't expect was for a blue screen to appear shortly afterward, bringing him some good news in the ocean of figurative and literal shit he was facing.

[You've met the requirements of a challenge.]

"Hmm, I don't remember looking at that." Maxwell remembered the system commenting on this, but he didn't pay any attention because he could assume that he would need to be stronger to fulfill the challenges.

[Synthetic Nightmare: Kill 50/100/250 Enemies

(X) - Amped Weapons

( ) - ???

( ) - ???]

"I've killed 50 people, uh, but I think I only killed a dozen people in the conquest of Old Haven, so where do these other numbers come from?"

[The system doesn't get the maths wrong, you killed exactly 13 people in Old Haven and 36 zombies in the sewers (you stole a few kills from your mates).]

"I didn't realize you counted the zombies too, since they were already, you know, dead."

[...]

[With the explanations given, do you want to implant the Amped Weapons in your body?]

[(Augments) Amped Weapons: Amped Weapon enhances plasma-charged weapons, increasing their power and effectiveness in combat. Visually, the weapons take on a distinctive golden hue when activated, indicating their amplified power.]

"Wait, is that going to be implanted in my body? I thought it would be like in Titanfall where I just press a little card and my gun goes into steroids."

[This isn't a game, pilot. But yes, there are burn cards if you prefer but you may end up losing them, and the implants stay in your body. Amped Weapons will be installed for free by the system in your dominant hand, do you want to proceed?]

"Of course, just gimme the chrome."

[Alright, just a little prick and you'll be good to go.]

"*Argh*" Maxwell closes his eyes, he screams as the pain begins to spread through his hand.

"...Hmm?" And just as it came, the pain faded quickly, leaving Maxwell embarrassed, fortunately, no one had seen. "All right, now where's my lollipop, Doctor?"

[...]

Maxwell looked closely at his right hand as he removed the glove, revealing a series of metal segments embedded in his palm. The tiny circuits extended like intricate black lines, converging at all the joints of his fingers.

He firmly grasped his P2016, focusing on his hand. A warm sensation began to pulse through his hand once more, but this time without the searing pain. Within seconds, his P2016 gleamed with a golden sheen, small golden sparks occasionally dancing across the pistol's surface.

Knowing that using the knife wouldn't cause noise, Maxwell approached a tree and prepared to strike, the veins in his arms bulging with explosive force.

*Shoooh*

His hand moved so quickly that a sound like wind cutting through the air occurred. The blade hit the wood, but instead of stopping upon hitting the hard surface, it continued to advance.

Maxwell's eyes widened as the tree succumbed to the force of gravity and fell with a thud to the ground.

*BAAM*

Turning his gaze back to his hand, he noticed a bit of smoke emanating, along with some orange lights flashing over the segments. His implant could perform a few more devastating strikes like that before going into cooldown.

"*Guh* *guh*"

Maxwell finally snaps out of his reverie upon hearing a choking sound, startled to remember what he had set out to do after dealing with Rook.

"Bishop!" Maxwell's voice carries urgency as he hurries over to the fallen soldier, his footsteps crunching on the sandy beach. "Hey, hang in there, buddy."

"*Sigh* Sorry, man. I spaced on you." Maxwell scratches his head, unable to resist the system's temptations.

Maxwell quickly checks Bishop's pulse and heartbeat, his brow furrowing in concern as he assesses the soldier's condition. He notices signs of labored breathing and a rattling cough, indicative of fluid in the lungs—a clear indication of near-drowning.

He had the same symptoms when he woke up on the beach, but unlike Bishop, he had his nanites to expel the water from his lungs.

"We need to get you breathing properly," Maxwell mutters to himself, his mind racing for a solution. "If I remember my first aid training correctly..."

He pauses, searching his memory for the appropriate response. Then, realization dawns.

"I need to clear your airway and help you cough up any water." Maxwell declares resigned to his fate. "Time to perform CPR."

"Here… we go." Maxwell removes Bishop's helmet, looking at the pale face, and the wet white hair on the man's forehead. Maxwell forced his brain to see a beautiful woman in front of him, at least the situation would become a little more bearable.

After completing thirty compressions, Maxwell leans back slightly, tilting Bishop's head back to open the airway. Pinching Bishop's nose shut, he takes a deep breath and places his mouth over Bishop's, delivering two rescue breaths, each lasting about one second and causing the chest to rise visibly.

"*Cough* *cough*" Bishop stirs. A ragged cough escapes his lips as he gasps for air, his chest heaving with the effort. Slowly, his eyelids flutter open.

Maxwell helps Bishop to sit down, the man begins to cough more violently, water and some things that Maxwell didn't want to know what they were.

"Max? What a relief," Bishop's hand retreated from the holster at the sight of one of his own, his action purely instinctive, nothing malicious. "Where are we? How long have I been passed out? And our squadron, how are they?

"Take it easy, we're on a zombie-infested island, we've probably been carried here by the ocean waves. I have no idea how many hours have passed since the incident in the sewers. As for our squadron, I haven't yet tried to contact them via ECHO."

"Zombies? Have you ever named these creatures?" Bishop raises an eyebrow, the zombie topic reminding him of a person.

"Max…What happened to Rook, was it real? Did he…"

Maxwell doesn't answer anything, he just turns his face to where Rook's carcass is.

Bishop's cloudy eyes were fixed on Rook, his completely white eyes conveying no emotion, only the desolation of a fallen soldier in combat.

He stands up silently, the cold winds off the beach ruffling his platinum hair. Bishop kneels down and picks up Rook's Dog Tag before taking up his rifle and using it as an improvised shovel to dig a grave for Rook.

*Groan*

"Damn it, you can't even give me a minute to bury my friend." Bishop's words dripped with poison, the normally calm man looked like a wounded beast, his face contorted with anger and pain was something new for Maxwell.

Maxwell raises his hand and makes a silent gesture signaling for him to continue digging, he pulls out his Data Knife in a reverse grip and walks over to the invading zombie.

Maxwell didn't want to get into a CQC with a zombie whose only injury would be his death sentence. The man himself felt uncomfortable attacking, as he felt he would be grabbed and possibly scratched. It didn't help that the zombie had his hands outstretched, while it was clenching his teeth.

He knew he could end the confrontation with a single amplified blow, but he wondered how he would deal with zombies without his implant.

Resolving to take things more calmly, he stepped back, not letting the zombie get too close but close enough for his attacks to reach the zombie's hands. Maxwell clenches his hand and cuts off the zombie's fingers, his knife cutting off one or two fingers with each blow, he does this until he leaves the zombie with no fingers, he could have attacked to rip off the zombie's hand entirely, but he feared having his knife stuck.

The zombie, now defenseless, could only attack Maxwell with its mouth, something the man wouldn't let it do, and with a decisive blow he struck the zombie's eye, putting force into it and causing the knife to sink in. Maxwell ignored the zombie's arms around his body and spun the knife, liquefying the monster's brain, which fell limp to the ground.

[Blade Mastery lv.3>4]

_____ 

Name: Maxwell Williams 

Regeneration: 0 

[STR: 31] [END: 39] [DEX: 34] [INT: 25] 

Skills: [Trigger Discipline lv.13] [Blade Mastery lv.4]

 ___ 

Functions: [Hangar] [Quest Board] 

Credits: $26 

_____

With a moment to breathe, Maxwell thought about the confrontation he had just had, he was particularly alarmed by the zombie's supernatural strength. 

He currently had 31 strength, which summed up to 108kg of strength, and yet he felt suffocated by the strength of a rotting corpse. It was a good idea to cut off his fingers before finishing, but the confrontation lasted too long, if he was fighting a horde he'd be eaten alive when he got tired from the effort.

Maxwell would be investing in suppressors for crowd confrontations, but he would need a safe place first to do the installation. Giving a farewell salute to Rook, Maxwell, and Bishop headed deeper into the island.