I had never been someone much for music. I’d heard it in passing, of course, and didn’t have any disdain for it… but in shuttering myself off from normal life, I had denied myself the joy of the stuff. Pleasant melodies, a rhythmic beat that spoke to the soul, and soft lyrics to inspire and uplift mood. But now, it was as if a wound had opened up within my core and needed filling.
Luckily for me, the imminent violence etched some rough bastardization of a tune through my head. Multitude of booted feet thumping against aged floorboards. Clatter of weapons intending to cause me pain and death. Low voices ranging between panic and anger rising in volume as they drew closer. My shotgun chamber clacked open and closed in symphony. Something heavy and industrial, a pounding bass that worked a cursed duet alongside my blossoming headache.
I wasn’t much of a dancer, but I could go with the flow.
One step forward, and my cyborg arm flashed out. The open doorway briefly blocked by the first of my dance partners before the muzzle end of my shotgun cratered the bones in his face. He bowed out and allowed me more space on the dance floor. The hallway - now teeming with cultists impatient to wait their turn. Overcharge ramped up in a rising crescendo before we hit a high note.
A blast and the ball of force pulsed out, accompanied by the nails I had loaded into the chamber. Two knocked back from the wave of energy. Behind them, one received a nail through the neck, and another through a hand raised in defense.
They scattered like roaches, some small amount of sense in their heads telling them that standing in a long corridor was a poor tactic. Shame, as I was just getting into the swing of things.
Into the side rooms they went, while a couple still thought they had a decent chance. Leaping over the knocked back cultists, one with some mania in his eyes brought down a sharp axe toward me. Sparks rang out as I deflected it with my gun-arm, his follow-up actually quicker than I could reset my positioning. Knife was already up in my other hand and I blocked the edge from finding a home in my chest.
He leaned into it, putting his full weight into trying to bury his weapon down into me. Even with all that effort, he was barely winning against my single arm. Gauntlet boosters tipped the scales, and my blade slid past his axe and gouged through his throat. Nerve shot into the one behind him and then I ducked and slid into the doorway beside me. A chorus of barks snapped from makeshift firearms, putting holes and shredding wood in the rough area I had stood.
Unlike the pigmen, a morale victory was less likely with the fervent monster-worshipping cultists. Their High Monarch had sent them off on a do-and-die mission, and they were perfectly happy to run themselves into bloody ribbons against my pointed disdain.
Empty cartridge bounced across the decaying carpet, small tufts of dust rising from where it landed.
Still, they were untrained and inexperienced. Those who were born and lived in the wasteland were tougher than most - hence their disgust at the ‘soft-born’, who were just normal people growing up in the city. They had no formal training, however… like I had.
Ah? I winced as my brain ached a little more. The point that I was trying to make is that they weren’t geared toward fighting like this. Tactics were as thin as my patience. Even now I could hear them hesitating to step back into the hallway.
The room across from me buzzed as the dragonfly drone circled in to spot me, before moving back out into the unseen open. Clara was circling around to try to keep tabs on both of us. Smart, but cameras on us might be a nice alternative for when the drone wasn’t viable.
Took two steps back and then powered toward the thin walls. Wallpaper and paint long turned to ash and browned curls across the dusty floor. Cyborg shoulder struck aged plaster and weakened wood and I burst through in a obscuring cloud. Three were standing by the open door, waiting for me to peek my head out. One got a face full of my powdered shoulder, while the last stood by the window on the left - possibly waiting for a reason to try to escape.
Nerve shot knocked one out and disabled the leg of another by the door. I turned as the third swung around his single-shot rifle, the blast ringing out in all our ears. Should have brought my ear plugs.
-Superficial Wound (Right Torso)
Super suit had stopped it from going into my lung, the twisting movement not enough to get my cyborg arm in position to deflect it. Window cultist lunged at me with a spear, the scraping noise of the crooked blade across my gauntlet shortly followed by a notification that-
-Piercing Wound (Left Shoulder)
I grabbed the shaft of the weapon and pulled the man towards me, Overcharge powering up as I brought the gun-arm around. His insistence on holding on to the weapon for dear life proved his undoing, as I jabbed his undefended throat and unleashed the V-Force blast. Windpipe and half of his throat split and ruptured from the power, and I swung around to see that the other two had now vanished from this room.
Wasn’t in the mood to play this kind of game.
//W: How is Roxy faring?
//Clara: Monster is surprisingly resilient.
//Clara: She is more frustrated than anything.
//W: Tell me something I don’t know.
Wiped the sweat from my brow. There was something else in the air here that I was only starting to get the feel of. Familiar… to some degree. Tired of playing whack-a-mole with the cultists, I needed to go against the super.
No… I needed to go assist the super. We had worked well as a duo out in the wastes before - and at the cloning factory. Splitting up had been a pragmatic attempt to clear up everything nice and tidy, but we needed to be together. Ugh. I really needed a break from this.
I checked my six for… not sure what. Looked back at my hand instead, flexing my fingers. The callsign Roxy had used tapped away in my head, before the cautious face of a cultist popped around the doorway to see if I was still here.
[You have one last chance to flee and live.]
The face vanished out of sight again. Murmured whispers in the background.
//W: How far from the ground am I?
//Clara: Too far. But two doors to the north there is some debris.
//Clara: Still risky.
North took me further into the throng of indecisive mutants. Typical. I sighed and tried to expel some of the cloud fogging my mind. Clearly, I could have done with a rest after my surgery. Still had plenty planned for the day after this. Talk with Roxy. Probably ask Clara more about her options for learning. Pick up my trailer and dummies from the courier Hal sent. Check out the contract sent over. Oh, that reminded me that I should have another look at more things to get.
About time I started buying my own ammunition and equipment - more important than a bath, I had decided. Although, a soak sounded like the perfect way to unwind from such a long day.
Alright, they’d had their chance.
Leaned down to grab the blunt end of the spear, my boot holding the rest down so that I snapped a few inches of the wood off. Chamber open, ejecting unspent shell. Wooden stake in and chamber closed. V-Force drive hummed in anticipation before I stoked the flames further by powering up Overcharge.
Gun-arm up, I fired the projectile through the wall just beside the doorframe, impaling whoever was just beyond. Scooped up the unused Nerve cartridge before I moved out into the hall. Shotgun blast across into the room opposite before I headed north. The corridor filled with bodies once more, like flies gunning for the hottest shit that just dropped.
Knife into one as I reloaded. Bullet embedded into my left collar area before falling out, a minor wound. Nerve shot buckling the next before I followed up with an elbow. Gauntlet boosters powered the tip of my knife forward, digging through an eye and into the cultist’s brain. Small feeder arms of the sideloader fed the second HE Slug into the chamber as I ducked and turned to avoid the wide swing of a sharp weapon. Muzzle up into the stomach of the closest and I blew through most of their internal organs.
Stood and an arrow cut along the side of my head, narrowly avoiding striking my goggled eye. I ignored the pinging notifications of the minor injuries I was sustaining. Irrelevant. Dislodged teeth clattered against the wooden floorboards as my gauntlet struck jaw. Kick to take out their footing and then a shove to knock them into their companions.
Knife back to my belt as I blasted another Nerve shot down the cluttered hallway. The faux-injured backed off into the rooms to allow the undamaged to have their turn against me. Left hand pulled a gray shell from my bandolier and slapped it in the open chamber. Blocked the jab of a knife, taking a step back as the mutant spun into a flurry of attacks. Trigger clicked, and the payload struck the upper wall - a burst of thick gray smoke suddenly filling our location.
I couldn’t see through the dense fog, but neither could they. Thankfully, there were a lot more of them than there was of me.
Fist up and clenched, I became a locomotive of hard-hitting metal. A punch with the gauntlet as I stepped forward, before lashing out with my muzzle. Emptied the Nerve shot into whoever was foolish enough to stand in the way. Bones snapped and mutants yelped out as I connected with a couple as I stepped forward.
Vague shape of an open door to my right, the dark wood of the frame only slightly visible. Next one was my ticket out of here. Overcharge spooled up and took the next Nerve shot out at record speed, the trail behind the blast sucking the gray smoke along like a vacuum. Slight visual of what lay ahead before the fog settled in once more.
Most were hiding or had retreated now, if they weren’t laying injured on the floor. Turned into the room where the sunlight broke through the mist, allowing me to clock the waiting cultist in the head with my arm.
//Clara: Rockslide requires assistance.
I moved without hesitation. Boots bit into the floorboards and I sprinted forward, bringing my gun up across me to weather to impact as I burst out from the empty windows, shattering the frames and most of the wall.
Twisted as I had a brief second of free fall, before landing with a thud on some slanted stone debris. Rolled a couple of times as I slid down, before hitting the ground proper.
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-Hairline Fracture (Lower Left Leg)
Dust swept around me, shaken up by my impromptu entrance to the main stage. The heat was worse out here, and part of me slightly regretted the choice. Several cultists lay strewn across this open square between the ruined buildings, unconscious or in slightly broken positions.
Two remained active, although one was currently in the grasp of the super. A barbed rope was wrapped around her right thigh, drawing blood - the end of which had been tied amongst a group of fallen rocks. It looked as though the monster was preventing her from removing it in some way - although the two arrows in her shoulder probably weren’t helping.
The monster itself looked worn out. Splits in its flesh from the powerful impacts of the super, bruises and welts forming, but yet it persisted. Upon my arrival, it turned one of its large eyes down to view me.
Hated that.
Gun-arm up. Overcharge brought the last sideloaded HE Slug readied. A blast that risked not having the range - but I was promptly rewarded, as the eyeball of the creature burst from the explosive round to spatter across the heated rock below.
Roxy head-butted the cultist in her hand before throwing them away like a discarded can. The monster wailed out, their mouth opening wide in a cry for help from the remaining mutants.
I flung my knife over to the super, which she caught with little issue, immediately setting about to cut the rope from her leg.
[Try using that against the monster. I’ll keep the rest away from you.]
She might hesitate in using a weapon, as it wasn’t what the League wanted of her. Unfortunately, I had some sway and a desire to actually kill things rather than force a handicap due to thematic reasons.
I turned around to face the apartments I had escaped from. Stims warmed me, doing enough to make my leg feel normal enough. Nerve shot racked in as the first of the cultists emerged from the wide front doors.
Took two of them out in quick succession, but by now their numbers were thinning to a degree that actually made them waver. Any remaining cultist lost their passion for the cause and either hid away or ran off somewhere I couldn’t see them. Too hot to give chase, anyway.
With a deep sigh, I rotated back to see the monster.
Now with a two deep gouges running across most of its bulbous body. Bleeding profusely, but too tired to put up any more of a fight. Energy had drained, and it had been abandoned by its followers. The one good eye was hazy and unfocused, the wide mouth lolled open, unable to do little more than groan. Roxy was beside it and leveled a jab and an uppercut before spinning into a back-kick. The monster tilted, before flopping over onto its side, one last harsh breath of air exiting its lungs as it couldn’t survive its own lax weight.
I scanned around for any more cultists waiting in the wings, but they were long gone. Relaxing my gun-arm, the throb of my headache seemed to wane, before I clocked Roxy approaching me.
“Broke your knife, sorry.” She gave me a glum shrug, but the excitement of battle still played in her eyes.
[No problem. I am surprised you don’t have something to deal with blunt force resistant foes.]
“Well, I’m surprised you made me throw you through the air like that. Pretty sure I was going to kill you.”
[If I were in charge of you, you’d have maybe… a large hammer. Flat surface on one side for blunt, and then a sharp side on the other for piercing or slashing.]
She tilted her head and put her hands on her hips. “If you were in charge of me?” Her face twinged with pain.
I kneeled down to have a look at the wrapped circle of cable that was still around her leg. An odd rope that was made out of flexible metal strands, interlaced with occasional pointed barbs. Seemed like it was designed to tighten and constrict, in a way that reminded me of the Pythons.
[Wearing this for fashion purposes, or would you like a hand?]
She looked down at me. “If you could? I couldn’t seem to get my fingers in the right place.” We maintained eye contact for a couple of seconds before I glared at the material.
[You couldn’t just flex and burst it off?]
“I’m flattered, Dubs, but things don’t - ah!”
I stood up, the errant constraints now in my hand as she rubbed at her leg where it had pierced her through. “How did you even…?”
[Sidekick powers. I’m here to make your life better. Easier.]
With a grunt, I looked back out to the wastes to avoid whatever expression she was putting on. With a descending buzz, Clara’s drone hovered down beside us, the dragonfly-shaped object looking from side to side at us both.
//Clara: Area deemed secure.
//Clara: I’ll call it in on Rockslide’s word.
//Clara: Best to come back to the van, unless you need time alone~
[Clara says we should head back. She will notify the League if you confirm mission success.]
Roxy turned her head to regard the monster once more. It hadn’t drawn breath since collapsing, and was currently just leaking internal fluids at a rate that might signal its heart was no longer pumping. Exhaling through her nose, she pulled a face. “You keep many alive to even be arrested?”
[Some. Plenty with at least minor injuries.]
“I’m surprised you had some restraint.” She gestured to where the van was and we set off moving.
[Really? You’d take on a sidekick without having full confidence in their adherence to the rules?]
“Don’t be an ass, Dubs. You know that’s not what I meant.”
I raised my goggles from my eyes, the true light of the plains hurting and briefly blinding me, but erasing some of the pain in my skull. Was sweating up a storm in this heat, but I wasn’t sure it was just the combat in this environment making me feel strung out.
[Apologies. Something has set me off in a bad mood. I will be glad to be away from here.]
“Understood.” Her concern melted away to form a grin. “And you kicked ass today, Dubs. I definitely would have eaten a lot more shit having to fight them all myself.”
[We work well as a squad. Team. Duo. I hope our further tests go just as well.]
“Me too.” Her eyes relaxed as we approached the embankment leading to our way out of here. “You know, it’s a lot easier to tell that you’re smiling with your goggles up.”
[You… can tell?]
Roxy gave me a brief nod before leaping from the edge, clear over the van to the other side of it. I didn’t even realize I gave away any indication that I could express such an emotion like that. My boots slid me down the sandy slope until I reached the vehicle and stepped inside.
“Top work, both of you.” Clara tilted her head back, already back in the driver’s seat. “Initial response from the League is positive, but they’ll debrief Rockslide fully in due course.”
“Joy,” the super murmured.
I gave a nod, but didn’t have the strength to give any better response. Almost considered unhooking my vocalizer. Mentally I felt uncomfortable, as if I had awoken from a bad dream that soured my mood that my waking brain couldn’t quite put to rest. The crates of unasked questions at the back of my mind were cracked and leaking black tar out into the otherwise simple, clean furnishings of my hitman psyche.
Part of me didn’t know what to make of myself, let alone Roxy.
So I spent the rest of the journey back in some quasi-meditative state. Eyes closed and just trying to grab hold of the edges of the puzzle pieces floating away. Super soldier, so being part of a squad made sense. There must have been a group of us, which is why fighting alongside Roxy made me feel better. It felt good to tie that thought up, as simple and straightforward as it was.
I had probably been a fighter and killer in that old life, which made rescuing and retooling me quite a boon for Boss. Syphoned away the memories to just leave the functional monster underneath. I just need pointing towards something to murder and the reassurance that I was meant to be a dark and grubby secret, hidden away from normal society.
As much as he was now pushing me toward something different, I had a feeling that Boss was secretly seething over the fact that his pet hitman was straying from the nest.
Van slowed to a stop - the time passing quicker than expected on the way back.
“I need to finish packing,” Clara informed us, “since I was interrupted. Rockslide - I had booked the whole day off, so if you have no complaints, I would like to hang out for a while longer?”
“Of course, Clara. You know you’re always welcome.”
Doors opened, and I shuffled out the back doors, glad to be in some fresher air. The grass was vibrant and my boots took me to it immediately. Clara stepped by quietly, her eyes lingering on me as she passed. I watched her enter the house before turning to see the somewhat awkward looking super standing there.
“Shall we sit?” She gestured to the deckchairs.
I nodded but couldn’t find any words, perhaps wondering if quickly loading the last Sanguine stake was a good way to start this conversation or not. Still, I sat beside her, and we looked out past my little shack and at the hazy shapes of the city in the distance.
“Wren told me about all the stuff Roy said to you the other day.” Her focus remained on the horizon. “The fact that you stood up for me, and didn’t back down from him aside, some of what he said was true.”
[How so?]
“Strength supers get the short end of the stick when it comes to relationships. Well, a lot of supers do, really.” She sighed and clasped her hands together on her lap. “Can’t date normal humans. If you go back in the news a decade, you’d find a lot of stories about why that doesn’t work. Even excusing accidents, it just takes a strength super getting drunk or having a bad day and… I am sure you can imagine.”
League clearly trained them to have a lot of self control. Outside of combat and leaping impossible heights, there was no other indication that she had such power in her normal life. It'd only take a slight slip of that mental state to cause fatal accidents, no matter if they intended it or not.
[So your options are other supers.]
“Yeah.” She leaned back. “But supers are assholes. Dated another strength hero for about a year and couldn’t stand it after a while. Clara never liked him, either. Loud, jealous type. Hurt his masculinity to see me grow in strength.” Her eyes rolled before she closed them.
[Still, you must have plenty of fans and eligible suitors.]
“Eh. There are people who want a strong woman, or say they can handle me… but they can’t.” Her eyes opened, and she sat back forward, to give me a coy smile. “I’m a sack full of angry cats, and don’t really get along with most people. Aside from you and Clara.”
I nodded slowly. It must be difficult to have fans and have so many people's interest in your every move. To worship and judge you based on how you look or what you do or say. Trying to build a relationship which should be something private would be untenable.
[So is that why you are attracted to a half-cyborg?]
Some color came to her cheeks as she pulled a face at me. Words were on the edge of her lips before she looked back out to the city. “I’ll admit I’m attracted to danger. A shitty type to have. You’re that, plus easy to talk to. Not full of bullshit like most people.”
[Perhaps I’m even worse than that… once my old life comes back to me.]
Her eyes met mine, trying to read me. “I’m willing to take that risk.”
I had a moment where I felt dissociated. Wasn’t that long ago I was a dirt-laden hermit, slinking through the shadows to commit foul acts just because I thought my life had no greater purpose. Now a superhero was beside me, her eyes ablaze and waiting to see what my next words were.
Roxy looked down at the grass. “I know this is a lot to put on you, and I’m not expecting you to reciprocate or shit. I was cagey about things before because I don’t want to ruin our friendship that’s just begun - but Clara is being an asshole and thinks I should get it out of my system.”
[She certainly has a way of pressing an issue.]
“Right?” The super gave me another smile. “So if I’m not your type, or you aren’t interested, or you really think it’s a bad idea… just tell me and we can move on. Honest.”
Her eyes told me that might be a white lie. Despite having one arm and being unable to kiss, I understood a little more why she had such an attachment to me. Somewhere in the middle between superhero and normal human, she hoped to avoid the normal bad vibes of the former while having more hardiness than the latter.
Still, she was right about one thing. It would be a bad idea. I was destined for death, one way or another. Pretty sure getting closer to her would only leave me with broken bones and her with a broken heart.
Actually, she was right about two things.
I stood and dusted down my suit, giving a glance toward the city before looking down at her. She could see the writing on the wall, almost resigned to finishing up the rest of the ice-cream this evening.
[You have feelings for someone who is barely a step above being a villain. The list of my crimes would get me the death sentence. Ostracized from normal society. I kill because it is all that I know, and all that I am good at. There is no chance I will cease this way of living until I stop drawing breath. You do not know who I was, nor who I will now become. Even I do not know. To pair yourself with me is to join the endless cycle of suffering and strife, and I will not allow that.]
Her mouth opened and closed, but her voice stuck in her throat. Before she could settle on an emotion, I continued.
[And the reason I cannot allow you to hurt as I do is because I care for you. You may have forced your way into my life, but you helped me realize I could have a life. There is no shaking what I am, or how I am built, but you were a radiant light in the darkness that I thought was my eternal fate. For this I can both never forgive you, nor ever truly thank you for.]
“Dubs… I…”
My hand rose to cut her off.
[A relationship is still a rough road that I am unsure if I can truly travel on. But for you, I am willing to try… but only on one condition. One thing you have to do first.]
Now she looked shocked, her face flush, but some confusion mixed with excitement in her eyes. I had dangled the carrot, but the stick would be what tempered any potential flames between us.
“What… what is it, Dubs?”
[You have to fight me, and win.]