New Game+

[MonteCristo]

((Ripley continued from Look At You, Hacker.))

The AK-47 felt both right and wrong in Ripley’s hands. It was hard to believe a gun could handle so easily—that with just a single pull, you could kill dozens.

A great weapon if you wanted to be the last one standing. Horrible if you were trying not to kill anyone. And Ripley had sworn himself to the latter.

It was why, at that time, he chose to use the axe. He thought that he could drive Paris off with just a few swings. Using the gun would’ve been excessive.

Look where that got him.

Some people were out to kill, no matter how much you pleaded or tried to reason with them. They were consigned to cross the point of no return; mere words would never turn them back. They spoke the language of violence, so Ripley would have to answer in turn.

It didn’t sit well with him. He abhorred the very thought of shooting someone. But between hurting his enemies and letting his allies die, only the former kept everyone alive.

Besides: Cyber Reality. Nothing he did here would stick. So long as he didn’t kill them, they would wake up just fine. There were plenty of ways to take someone down. Plenty of ways to get his point across, all without taking a single life.

Ripley set the AK-47 down near Ray’s gun and started going through Zorin’s stuff. First-aid kit, pillow, lunches—come to think of it, Ripley hadn’t eaten anything since the start of the game. He opened one of Zorin’s lunches and started eating the taco salad, rice, and churro inside.

It was kinda bland.

After downing the apple juice and chocolate milk, Ripley rifled through his own bag until he found 2 different grenades. He put them in his sweatpants pockets—flashbang in the left, hand grenade in the right—and zipped them halfway shut. That way, he could pull them out when he needed to, rather than fumble around with the ever-expanding contents of his backpack.

Now, the axe. At this point, Ripley was armed to the teeth (which he was willing to use if necessary), but he figured it’d be better to take it with him than to let anyone from Daniel to Paris get their hands on it. He stuffed it in his bag at an angle so the handle stuck out; if he was gun-less, grenade-less, and in every way defenseless, he could simply pull it out and hack away.

Ripley knelt down to deal with one last thing before heading out.

Thread the left over the right. Pull them tight. Loop them both. Right over left. Push the left loop under the right. Pull them tight again.

Zorin’s acid green laces stood out against Ripley’s black sneakers. But, honestly, that was for the better.

A05: Ripley Klein, ready to rock.

((Ripley Klein continued elsewhere…))