A Spare Life, Dirt Cheap
Spend enough time with games and even the crustiest veterans run into situations that leave them completely stuck. It doesn't matter how godlike your mechanics are or how sharp your game sense is—every system has hard limits.
Endless waves of enemies. Elite specimens and boss Primordials so overwhelmingly strong that even a team in perfect sync can barely bring them down. Quests with mechanisms so convoluted they make your temples throb. Players have cooked up countless exploits and walkthroughs to deal with all of that, but if I had to name the single most widely used tool in the kit, it would be the Hologram Decoy Generator.
In plain English: a spare life.
The usage is surprisingly simple. Slip a human—or Primordial—DNA sample into the compact analyzer built into the Hologram Decoy Generator, and it instantly processes the data and projects a hologram decoy identical to the original. There's no physical substance to it, of course, but the light and sound effects are so convincing that a novice will never catch on unless they actually try to touch it.
And that's coming from someone who already knows what a Hologram Decoy Generator is. Imagine someone—or some Primordial—who's never heard of the thing, suddenly face-to-face with a fake that looks completely real. I'd bet my last credit that ten out of ten of them would waste every shot and every swing on empty air.
But if I let on how badly I wanted it, this diabolically eccentric researcher would fleece me for every last credit. Still, we'd come all the way to the open market. The least I could do was pick up a few decent-looking items, just to be polite.
"This firework-style flashbang looks pretty solid."
"You've got a good eye! That's my Sparkle Wand. I got the idea after watching a wizard movie that came out decades ago!"
Her naming sense was still atrocious. I also had a pretty good idea which movie had inspired her.
"The one about the brat with the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead who finds out about his secret bloodline and goes to a magic academy?"
"Wow! You actually know it! That's such a niche classic—I figured you'd have no idea!"
Well, yeah. I come from the world that wrote the original books.
"So how do you use it? Do I say 'Wingardium Leviosa' and a flashbang shoots out?"
"No, no. It's Levi-ohhh-sa."
"Right~ Leviosa~"
"Levi-ohhh-sa."
"Right~ Leviosa~"
Lee Sena and I locked eyes across the counter, trading lines so buttery they were practically dripping, until Lucy couldn't take another second of it and shoved her credit card forward.
"That's enough. I'll buy this, so let's wrap it up here."
"Oh, then I should pick something up for our hardworking teammate too."
"No, I really don't care for these bizarre—"
"Nope. We're buying you something."
I applied a little pressure, and Lucy reluctantly nodded. Seizing the opening, I picked up the Hologram Decoy Generator I'd had my eye on from the start. It looked like nothing more than an old-fashioned DVD player, and even Lee Sena gave me a puzzled look.
"If you're buying a gift for a lady, you should pick something more romantic and cute. Why would you go for a toy-looking hologram projector like that?"
"Figured watching movies on this thing would be a real thrill?"
You could enjoy a full-CG live-action movie on it! (You cannot.)
"Well, honestly, I just dragged it out of storage, so I wouldn't mind clearing it as leftover stock..."
"I just happen to like this kind of classic stuff. If you come across more of these, feel free to let me know. Or point me toward a company that specializes in them."
In EFD, the Hologram Decoy Generator was a peculiar item—sold exclusively at Lee Sena's Cute & Lovely Tool Shop, never at Vladimir's General Store. Which meant either she built them herself, or she had an exclusive supply contract with some third party.
If I lay the groundwork now, Lee Sena will handle the rest on her own.
We were buying two clearance items from this bizarre open-market stall that every other inmate wouldn't even glance at. I just hoped she wouldn't repay today's kindness with a knife in the back.
"So how much?"
"The Sparkle Wand is a reusable consumable—you have to load proprietary flashbangs into the chamber—so I'll do 1.5 million, on the condition that you get after-sales service through us."
"Magic, in the cutting-edge scientific age of the 2040s? Any sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic, so today I shall abandon romance and choose reality."
I moved to set the Sparkle Wand back down, and Lee Sena lunged to grab my arm, looking like she'd just watched someone kick a puppy.
"1.3! I can't go any lower!"
"1 million."
"1.2!"
"1 million."
"Aaagh! Fine! 1 million! But I'm charging full price for that classic hologram projector!"
A million vanished from Lucy's credit card in an instant, and the actual owner of said card gave me a distinctly sour look. The expression said, quite clearly, that if she was the one buying, there was no need to haggle that hard.
That was a person who understood one thing and not the other. Even if I never pinched pennies with my own money, you did not casually spend a teammate's. That was the responsibility—and the weight—of the armband that led the team.
"For the hologram projector... I'll need at least 500,000! It's a little dated, sure, but there's nothing wrong with the performance or the storage condition."
"Deal."
That exchange was all I needed to confirm she hadn't built the Hologram Decoy Generator herself. She'd probably stumbled across it from some other person—or some other company—and put it out as leftover stock.
In EFD you have to clear Lee Sena's personal quest to buy this thing for 2.5 million, and without the quest she gouges you for 5. And here it's a measly 500,000? I'm supposed to just sit still for that?
I fought down the urge to split my face in a Joker grin and instead put on a masterful performance of a man outraged at having to pay 500,000 for such a dusty old relic. This year's Best Actor award was as good as mine.
"Wow! Sales already at 1.5 million! I can have black-bean noodles AND sweet-and-sour pork tonight!"
Look at this workshop gremlin, grinning like she'd hit the jackpot. She was the kind of person who could live on black-bean noodles and sweet-and-sour pork in a dust-choked workshop and still be perfectly happy doing research. I'd just topped off her dopamine on the cheap. At this point, shouldn't I be the one receiving thanks?
One way or another, becoming a regular at Lee Sena's shop is probably unavoidable.
Well. She was a little strange, but that didn't mean the things she built were junk. I wasn't so rotten as to write someone off over a screw or two loose in the head.
"We'll be going, then. Wishing you prosperity."
"You take care too, Super Rookie~"
That damn Super Rookie nickname again. Anyone overhearing that would think I was the protagonist of I Solo-Farmed the Darkzone, Leveled Up, Regressed, and Became Overpowered.
Having barely escaped Lee Sena's clutches, we set out on the trip's original purpose: a serious upgrade to our firepower. Important consumables like ammunition and medical supplies were already covered by monthly contracts with the Mega Corps, so we didn't need to worry about that side of things.
Which brought us to Vladimir's General Store. Did I get tired of coming here every time?
Never. Always fresh. Always a thrill.
I exchanged a light handshake with Vladimir, who had the warm, easy face of the neighborhood uncle, then dragged a visibly uncomfortable Lucy inside and proceeded to demonstrate what a man's shopping trip actually looked like. Women will park themselves in a department store for a solid five hours. Men, too, have moments when they shop with deadly seriousness. Moments like this one.
"This is an older AAA Corp assault rifle. Looks about two generations behind..."
"You can tell, eh? This time around, a full hundred thousand inmates got a taste of the Darkzone and every last one of them came to the same conclusion: not enough firepower. So the government coordinated with the arms companies and agreed to supply a selection of personal firearms to the prison."
"So that's why the open market opened right as a flood of new inmates came in."
"As you well know, merchants as a species have a nose for money that borders on the supernatural. Inmates who've already walked up to death's door in the Darkzone, and the new ones watching that anxiety take root and sprouting an invisible kind of terror of their own—both make excellent customers. That's all I figured."
"I'm sure you did. Anyway, if you think of these as the price of someone's life, it's a lucky break for people like us. You'll move product at a fair price today to everyone scrambling to boost their firepower on opening day, then gouge the latecomers who show up after the news trickles out."
"Sharp as ever, and not at all like a new inmate. Really, you feel like you've been rotting in this prison for ten years already."
I answered his idle compliment with a hollow laugh and went looking for something with the freest possible modding potential, easy maintenance, and rock-solid durability. Do you know why rifles like the AK-47 and the M16 are called legendary pieces of hardware? Because countless people used them for a very long time, and they were proven from every possible angle.
This world was no different. Just like the one I'd come from, firearm bestsellers existed here too, which meant even a novice could pick out a partner without too much trouble.
"I'll take this AAA Corp semi-automatic shotgun."
"Need anything else?"
"A maintenance kit, for starters, plus modern parts compatible with this gun. A 2.5x ACOG optic, a combined laser-and-light module, a vertical grip, an extended drum mag, a recoil pad for the stock, and a specialized suppressor. What's that come out to, roughly?"
"Running the numbers... we're looking at 3 to 4 million. Throw in the various ammo types and you're at 5 million, easy."
"No ammo. Unless we're genuinely running dry, I'm not planning to buy cartridges separately."
At that answer, something in his merchant's instinct clicked. His eyes narrowed.
"...Looks like you landed yourself a pretty good mark, eh?"
"A mark? Please. I treat every business partner bound to me by sacred contract with equal respect."
"It wasn't even just one, was it. No wonder the other inmates are jealous."
"They're the ones making life harder than it has to be."
I shrugged, and he shook his head as if there was nothing to be done about it, then looked over at Lucy, who had been standing there with her mouth shut tight.
"Seems we've still got someone who hasn't picked a firearm. As it happens, this shop has a one-gun-per-customer rule."
What was this, a coffee chain with a one-drink-per-person minimum?
I flicked a glance sideways and scanned the weapon Lucy had been examining for a while now. The thing she was staring at, perfectly still, was none other than...
Akimbo SMGs?
Lucy was gazing, a little vacant, at a displayed pair of SMGs built to be held and fired one in each hand. For someone Lucy's size, a rifle, a machine gun, or a shotgun would be too big and too awkward—but a pair of compact submachine guns she could wrap a hand around each? That was a different conversation.
The dual-pistol meta always drew complaints about insufficient firepower and poor accuracy. The dual-SMG meta used the same pistol-caliber rounds and still managed to be excellent on both counts. Besides, I'd picked a semi-auto shotgun and was building an all-rounder kit to cover close, mid, and long range. Fitting Lucy with a close-quarters specialist loadout from the start wasn't a hard call at all.
Maybe he'd read something in our faces. Vladimir got there first.
"Those come as a set. You buy both at once."
"Buying two instead of one is going to add up, isn't it?"
"Don't worry, Lucy. Compact bullet hoses aren't that expensive to begin with. Even buying both, you're looking at 2 million, tops."
This wasn't the outside world. As I'd already pointed out, Vladimir couldn't command high prices on the open market's first day. If anything, plenty of inmates would abandon the dual-SMG meta early because they couldn't stomach the ammo bill—which meant we, as the ones buying first, deserved a discount.
I looked at Vladimir in a way that said as much. He finally threw up both hands.
"Fine. Maintenance tools, spare magazines, and the SMG-exclusive mod parts included—I'll let the whole package go for an even 3 million. You'll be handling the ammo on your end, I assume?"
"We'll come back for more if we run short. But I'd advise against trying to recoup your losses on the cartridge prices."
I drew a small clear glass vial from inside my jacket, a tiny memory chip sealed inside, and his expression changed.
"Damn it. Turns out I was on the mark list too."
"Please don't put it like that. You make me sound like a villain."
"You are a villain. If you weren't, you wouldn't be locked up in this prison."
"I can't logically refute that."
We settled the firearm tab cleanly, then handed over the Darkzone recording files we'd secured earlier. Naturally we wrung a further discount out of him on top of a fat commission, which meant that despite burning through several million on the open market's first day, our Prison Banking balance had somehow gone up.
That was prison-style investing for you. Put money in. Take more money out.