Epilogue: Shotgun Blues and a Knight's Folly
"Hm."
I applied the rail shotgun's data to the simulation and ran a quick test spin.
Too many issues to use like a normal shotgun.
It was clear this thing wasn't viable as a main weapon. Sure, it was commercialized, but it was just as monstrous as ever. Its grotesque design matched its grotesque performance.
For starters, since it was fundamentally a railgun, it needed to charge current before firing. That meant it couldn't shoot instantly like a regular bullet-firing gun.
The ideal way to use it: charge up, close in for point-blank range, then blast away.
At least it can maneuver with bursts even while charged. That's a plus.
Overall, it felt more like a melee weapon with insane damage output than a shotgun—something like a blade or shortsword.
I even wondered if the "commercialized" claim was a lie and they were just using me as a guinea pig. It was that far removed from standard close-range arms.
The handling's a bit awkward...
I ran a few sim battles against the AI. But its movements were too predictable—I could herd it into a spot and shred it every time. No real judgment possible.
Humans won't dance to my tune like that.
Was the AI dumb, or was I just smart? Either way, I figured the only way to gauge its real utility was a live test.
"Ugh..."
Once I reached that conclusion, a dissatisfied groan naturally slipped out.
Even if it proved useless in combat, would I really shelve this weapon?
Fat chance.
It was just a sim, but I'd felt it: one solid hit delivered a high like no other. Railgun roots meant charging, massive strain, huge energy drain, and a laundry list of drawbacks.
But those same railgun roots gave it penetration power through the roof—and with six barrels linked, the damage was absurd. The recoil locked me up for seconds after firing, but that was offset by the spectacle of all six rails glowing in unison at the trigger pull.
No helping it.
At least nominally, I'd commit to a live test. I opened my mail to scan the corporate requests that had piled up that morning.
Three new ones already?
Guess that's what came with ranked status—barely climbed in, and requests were stacking up enough to be picky.
I skimmed the first one fast.
Sender: Caldari Alliance. A mega-alliance request right out the gate.
I closed it there. Way too intense for new weapon testing. I'd need missiles or grenade launchers galore just to bomb everything to hell.
Not this one...
Next email. Sender: Hiroyuki Data Research Europe Branch.
Closed it. Not suitable for testing either. Payouts all north of 500k too. Last time, downing Fallen Angel netted 520k—doubled from the original 250k base.
Base pay starting at 500k? What kinda nightmare is this...
Finally, the last email. If this flopped too, I'd be scraping public boards despite ranked pilot status. Read it with faint hope.
Sender...
Huh.
Arc Angel Europe. Like Railwork Foundation, they always sent requests after I wrecked them. Some jinx? Praying it wasn't a revenge trap, I kept reading.
I rubbed my chin, pondering, then nodded.
Bottom-rank pilot. Objective: Reclaim an ag-plant complex where defenses were already smashed. Not oversized like the others.
The "test" label irked a bit, but overall, light enough for casual acceptance. Like before, I replied with one line: Accepted. To Arc Angel Europe.
Won't reply instantly.
While waiting, dig more on this Don Quixote foe. Saw him plenty in-game, but reality might differ.
Checked Hermes Network rank list for his registered build.
Same as in-game, huh.
Last request matched: Nexus Rosinante. Quad-legs, one lance, rest standard missiles and rifles. Quad setup unusual—neural links make non-humanoid frames awkward for humans.
But he handled it ranked-level well enough. Still, Don Quixote was nuts. Explained it all.
Wait a sec.
Sudden thought.
Why's in-game bottom-ranker Don Quixote still dead last now?
With rank shifts, I'd be the disruptor. Players in ranks normal, but I'm no game pilot.
Everyone should've bumped down one after me... but he's still #50?
That realization hit. In-game ranks had gaps: #47 and #9 empty to the end. Didn't notice before, but one got assigned to me.
What cosmic coincidence?
Why were they empty anyway?
Mulling the mystery...