I took the risk and forced the action. Now as I looked back through the Vibrex glass at the speedster sitting on the bench, it seemed the unflappable had become flapped.
Although it seemed like I was putting the ball in his court, I also needed the time to think as well. What better way to clear my mind than having the shit beaten out of me? Roy had been pretty silent after I had laid the cards out. Didn’t even have the courage to respond to my chat message.
The organizers of the fight had removed the bodies from the battle royale part, most of the conscious participants giving me a glare as they were led out. After that, I was allowed to reenter as they brought out whoever needed hitting in the face with an empty shotgun.
If Roy wanted to kill me off, he was welcome to try. Either through tipping the scales of one of my pit fights, or doing the deed himself - I wasn’t equipped to go against a speedster of his level. If Boss was keen to hit two of his action figures together, so be it.
But I was gambling on two things.
The first was that despite being a huge asshole, the Captain was still a superhero at heart. More likely to turn on Romanov, who I was pretty sure was the other partner in the double-crossing. The man had mentioned Roy had given him a roster of supers, which could only be for nefarious purposes.
The second thing was how the speedster wouldn’t shut up about how he wouldn’t want to go against Roxy. I wasn’t going to use the word afraid, but I was willing to be he would avoid fighting me at all costs - just in case she got wind and wanted to bend his ear clean off.
Not to mention how the League would view all of this.
Oh, and Boss, I supposed.
Any further deliberation grinding around in my head ceased as my opponent was led past the benches and towards the door.
An ogre, perhaps. A good head taller than me and muscular, but bald. Lumpy with scars. Also similar to me was his one arm. Severed at his right elbow, he instead had a thick metal chain ending with a spiked ball that almost dragged across the floor. Not an easy weapon to use, unless he could keep me at mid range. Which is where I’d like to be if I had any ammunition I was allowed to use.
I circled around to near the back of the room, allowing him to find a comfortable position near the glass. He looked tough, and I didn’t rate my chances of just bludgeoning him to death too highly. Plus, I wasn’t supposed to kill him.
There were notifications in my lense. Messages. Not from Boss, so I dismissed them. Despite all the complications and relationships worming their way into my life, it was important I let my aching brain focus on the two important problems before me.
Winning this fight and making Roy my friend.
While the stims hadn’t played nicely with the alcohol in my system, as soon as the adrenaline of battle wore off, the last drops of my wavering mind had sobered up. Now I just felt dry and irritable. Wasn’t worth the credits spent on it. Any assistance it gave to weakening the barrier between present me and the old me who knew Analyze wasn’t worth it. No doubt I’d have worked out it on my own, eventually.
Apt that I was full of sour grapes with my new opponent looking to crush me. A whine when I’d already re-sworn off liquor.
I was well aware that engaging in these fruitless battles would give the speedster time to escape or work something out in his favor. In reality, that was the point. I was testing him to see if he was worthy of Roxy’s group, and didn’t want him to vouch for me solely on an underhand deal.
The buzzer screamed through the featureless room, and it was time to dance again. But now I was calmer. More focused. A rough blade that needed sharpening.
Ogre roared and took a couple of large steps toward me. Right arm lagged behind so he could draw the spiked ball back, ready to thrust it at me. As expected, really.
Didn’t matter if I was a hero killer, anti-villain enforcement, or a soldier that went after rogue supers. My cybernetic resurrection had all but distilled my prior purpose down to one simple instruction.
Kill.
This was just a performance piece to let Captain Snaps know what I truly was. How close he was to circling the whirlpool before I could drag him down. There was no doubt that if he had the stomach and foresight, he could kill me with little issue.
But he was an experienced fighter himself. The reason why he turned to a panicked ghost instead of starting planning for my demise was he saw the potential in me. A cockroach that wouldn’t die, but kept on marching against all odds.
I stepped back. The ogre kept on coming. Arm lashed forward and the ball and chain whizzed toward me. A step to the side and it struck the wall with a heavy clang. I grabbed the chain and swung at him with my shotgun. He grabbed the muzzle in his other hand.
A test of strength I was sure to lose.
He slowly twisted my gun-arm away to the side, opening up my torso for attack. His large head darted forward and he bit at my left shoulder. Teeth not sharp enough to pierce my super suit, but the pressure caused me to let go of the chain to try to push his face away. He then punched me with the stump end, knocking some of the air from my lungs.
I kicked out at his knee, and he didn’t budge. Shotgun was still firmly in his grip and every so slowly being pulled away to the side. Jaw wouldn’t let me go. Re-breather whirred as he prepared a second punch into my gut, and my hand went up to his clammy face. Thumb searched for a grip in his eye socket.
He wouldn’t allow it and released his bite to move away. I stepped closer to the right to relieve the tension in my twisting arm, before jumping up and grabbing his limb. With all my weight, I pulled him to the floor. The Ogre stumbled before tripping over me, landing on the concrete with a thud and releasing his grip.
Immediately, I rolled to the side to avoid being pinned on the ground. I’d not survive a protracted grappling session with the larger foe. Up on my feet, I turned and kicked the spiked ball at him. Cut through my boot and into the top of my foot, but struck the ogre in the face.
He wailed in pain and stumbled back up to his feet. Both lips now split across and bleeding, but nothing too dire. Angered him. Dulled the part of his brain trying to think about how he should approach me.
The cool twist of Analyze brought the facts to light. He was strong in both close and mid-range. Normally a target I’d engage from range with my shotgun, but this was testing how I would deal with being disarmed. I backpedaled and avoided the swing of the mace. Started putting as much distance as I could between us.
He didn’t like that and pursued, spinning a full circle with arm extended when he thought he’d caught up. No, I was still too far. V-Force hummed into life as we got close to the glass wall. I ducked the swing, and the ball bounced from the Vibrex glass above me.
Arm went up to grab the chain again, but he anticipated this. His bite came down on my left forearm. I anticipated his hand grabbing at my raised shotgun, so I feigned movements so that he grasped nothing but air.
Next moment was a quick blur. A crack. The blast of my V-Force. Two loud gasps from two injured fighters.
The ogre stumbled back and dropped to his knees, hand and stump grabbing for his throat. My left arm hung slack, broken. I stood there and caught my breath back, stims washing through me, as my opponent’s eyes rolled back and he passed out. A few seconds after his body slumped to the floor, he took a loud gasp of air as his throat recovered from the force. Tough bastard.
I turned my gaze to the door on the left as the medics rushed in.
Masked man asked me if I wanted some bone healing juice, but I declined. Wouldn’t heal up anytime soon anyway, and my stims were putting in solid effort. I pushed past them to leave toward the benches.
Roy looked as though he had gone a few rounds himself, clearly not pleased at having to sweat out an answer to my weighted question.
“Is your arm okay?” he asked, brows furrowed.
I flexed out my shotgun, tilting it side to side to observe it.
[Seems fine.]
“Another decisive victory, Gunquake,” Romanov announced as he stepped back over to us. “A shame about your arm. It would have been great to see how you fared against stiffer competition.”
[I will still fight.]
“You cannot…” The suited man pulled a face and glanced at Roy. “Even self-destructive tendencies have their limit. We cannot allow you to bout at a handicap.”
[Alright. What if we upped the stakes? Do you have anyone on the roster who would fight to the death?]
Romanov stared at me, his face unmoving. “Let me confer with the others.”
I nodded, and he departed.
“Dubs? What the fuck are you doing?” Roy was now sweating even more, but looked either concerned or annoyed.
I leaned down closer to him.
[No, Captain. What are you doing?]
His jaw worked while his eyes tried to read the lack of expression on my face. He hadn’t decided, but his indecision was also telling.
Captain Snaps: If you expect me to go against them to stop your death bout, I won’t.
Gunquake: I expect nothing from you.
Gunquake: Perhaps I will die, and you won’t have to choose which side you are loyal to.
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Captain Snaps: Who are you loyal to?
Gunquake: The person you are about to bet all your current winnings on.
I stood up straight and stretched out. Loyalty was a rather mixed bag as of late. My interest in being a murder-tool for Boss was waning. Despite wanting to cozy up with the League, I also had plenty of disdain for their institution. Roxy and Clara… well, this was all because of them, in some way.
It wasn’t enough that I kissed the asses of Roxy’s team for the privilege of fighting alongside them. I had to trust any squad I was a part of. Bond with them through battle and blood so that we could rely on each other. That was a tough ask to expect from a bunch of self-serving jerkoffs, but I had my best interests in mind. I wasn’t just hitching a ride with them. They were gaining a staunch and competent ally who would go to any lengths to win.
Thus, I would put my life on the line in front of Roy. Go against my contract to show him my word was absolute.
With a long sigh, I sat down beside him. The suits were having a heated discussion nearer the back. Would be a shame if they didn’t let me do it, or they had nobody available willing to risk it all.
“Roxy would split my head in half if she found out you died because of some shitshow like this I dragged you to.” Roy shook his head and looked out at the glass room being tidied up.
[You hold her views in such high regard?]
“She is the team leader.” He rolled his tongue across his teeth and lowered his gaze. “We fought once, near the start of our group being put together. I pushed her buttons a little too far. Was a huge asshole, but you know - I had always picked fights with whoever and gotten away with it because I’m a fast shit, right?”
[But against her?]
He looked at me briefly. “An angry speedster is one thing, but an angry strength super is… well, she didn’t even have to lay a hand on me to make it clear she wasn’t to be fucked with.”
[Does she know you’re… moonlighting?]
Roy shook his head, but didn’t add context to my question in case we had prying ears on us. “Maybe if you tap out and don’t die for no reason, you can go tell her and earn some brownie points, huh?”
I turned my gaze back to Romanov, who seemed to have gotten a consensus and was about to make his way back over to us.
[I do not like you, Roy. Your overactive mouth is nothing but show. Perhaps sort out your own insecurities before trying to guide me on choices I am fully capable of making myself. Decide what you are, because I sure as fuck know what I am.]
His mouth opened, genuine shock in his eyes, before the suit arrived and prevented him from making any kind of response.
“We have a fighter, Gunquake. I just wanted to confirm you were in the right state of mind to take on such a risk, not knowing your opponent.”
[Do I get to size them up first?]
He pulled a face and shrugged. “I suppose an informed decision would be acceptable. You are at least not foolish enough to go in blind.” Romanov turned and clicked his fingers, gesturing to a man standing near the door.
I could see Roy in my peripheral trying to dissuade me from continuing this charade by staring into the side of my head. Ball was already rolling, however. If he wanted to stop it, then he had to do something more than glare discreetly at me.
All eyes then turned to the side as the door opened and my proposed opponent stepped through. A man just as willing to risk his life for whatever reason we could delude ourselves far enough with.
A kindred spirit, almost. Cybernetics, although a lot more than I had and of worse grade. Right forearm and hand replaced with what looked like a pneumatic stake for breaking down rocks. Left hand was robotic, but had long and sharp digits - three and a thumb by my count. Half of his chest and face was dirty and scratched metal plating, a glowing red eye in place of his left.
Strong, and already rather angry for some reason.
Roy squirmed even more uncomfortably.
“This the runt that wants to fight me?” My potential killer asked, striding past the bodyguards to get a closer look at me. “He’s already fucked up and has no arm? This some kind of joke?”
I rolled my eyes and looked down at Roy.
[Unfortunately, despite my gasmask, I can still smell when someone has pissed themselves.]
This seemed to irritate the half-metal man further, and he stepped right up to me - causing most of the armed suits in the room to tense up. Now just a foot away, he gave me a proper up and down while I returned a tired glare. Long day, I was starting to tire.
“No mouth for me to shut, but perhaps I can teach you one final lesson since you’re so desperate to die.” He glared down at my one moveable arm. “What’s in the gun?”
[I’ve been using it unloaded.]
He scoffed and shook his head. “You will just punch and kick me? How about I let you fill up that sideloader?”
Sounded too good to be true. I turned to Romanov and raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing that can break the glass or obscure the arena, please. If Clyde is allowing that, then that is on his head.”
The cyborg nodded. “Gotta have a little fighting chance before I carve your brains out, ey?”
[I didn’t exactly come prepared for war, so I mostly have less-than-lethal or utility shells.]
“Pick what you like, mouthless.” Clyde grinned. “I’ve been shocked, burned, shot, and much worse, but I just don’t die.”
He moved away from me to head to the room where one of us would die, while a medic came over to me to put my left arm in a sling. After giving them a nod of thanks, I turned to the sweaty speedsters.
[Do me the honors, Captain? I’ll tell you when.]
Begrudgingly, he gave me his assistance. Finger went round between my mags and bandolier and I gave him a brief nod when he got to what I wanted. He clicked them into my sideloader one by one. A very deliberate act that looked like he felt he was putting the nails in my coffin himself.
[If I die, I want you to tell Rockslide that I… no, nevermind.]
“Fuck off already.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Still waiting for you to tell me this is all some sick joke.”
[Two things you should know about me, Roy. I do not joke and I do not die…]
I looked up as the medic moved away, to watch my opponent warm up. His stake-hand punctured back and forth in the air with a muted hiss.
[…Unless it would be funny to do so.]
Before he could respond, I stepped away from the benches and down into the room. Might as well get this over with. I needed sleep some way, and taking a sharp metal pole through my skull might be quicker than going home. Oh, to see Roy’s face after I bit the dust, and he’d have to live with the guilt. Truly a coldly served revenge after he baited me at the housewarming.
Door shut behind me and locked, and I stepped over to the middle by the glass. Allowing me three shots was a mistake, but without them I would have had zero chance of survival. Clyde was mostly metal, so presumably thought key positioning would allow him to protect his head and he'd get away with avoiding any fatal damage from a normal or less-than-lethal shot.
Oh, but they weren’t too picky about what I put in, so we’ll see how much regret he’d have. You know, when he was dead.
“I hope you lived a good life, mouthless. I’ll try to end you quick.”
No appetite left for bravado, so I just shrugged. I could imagine he’d killed before, due to his temper, willingness to enter this bout, and the confidence in his stance as he readied to chew me up with his mechanical parts. Enough of a villain that I didn’t feel bad about what I was going to do to him.
And he wouldn’t get too traumatized if he ended up killing me, which was comforting, in a way.
Buzzer sounded off and my final gamble of the night began.
Gun-arm flicked up immediately as he moved toward me, his arms crossing his body as he approached at more of an angle. Not many fleshy parts exposed - although I wondered how metal his legs were underneath the thick cargo pants he wore. Not worth me wasting a shot just yet, so I didn’t fire.
Still allowed the sideloader to put the first shell into the chamber as the V-Force drive powered up, but I stepped forward to lash out at the man playing defensively. A clash of metal producing sparks and he was willing to take advantage of my close proximity. Let his guard down.
He didn’t have the natural strength of my prior opponents, but was tougher and sharper. I backed away as his pointed metal fingers dug into my right shoulder before they could get a grip. Crimson started to soak through the white sling my broken arm had been cradled in. Gun-arm came up to deflect the jab of his stake, and I continued to back away and circle from him. Didn’t want to get pinned to the wall.
Another clash where I barely escaped further injury. My legs were tiring, even if my cybernetic arm had no such weakness. That said, my mind was lagging too. Needed a fresh canister and some rest, as utilizing my synapse controlled limb while my gray matter was dry was starting to take its toll.
Scuffed my footwork and right leg collapsed, dropping me to my knee. Clyde’s clawed hand grabbed at me, scraping against the metal of my neck as he tried to grip on. His pneumatic spike popped back and forth as it came down to my head. Gun-arm prevented the early excavation of my skull, but he pushed down with his weight, trying to overpower me. Knife-fingers chewed through my super suit and found the taste of my skin.
Couldn’t get an angle on him to fire my shotgun. Cybernetic arm was trying its hardest to resist the force slowly crushing me. Against better judgement, I activated Reflex.
Brain cooled, and I gained a heightened sense of what was going on. Ruin came from us both as the muscles in my left arm shifted it out from the sling and I punched him in the knee, further splitting my barely mending break.
[Electro-punch.]
Clyde hopped back, withdrawing his hands in hopes of avoiding the bullshit attack I just made up. The true damage was knowing his leg wasn’t cybernetic, and in giving me the opportunity to strike him while he was undefended.
With the power of my latent ability speeding up my brain processes, I powered through the first two shells in quick succession - the sideloader only briefly allowing the first emptied cartridge escape before the second entered and fired.
Clyde stumbled back and growled, looking down at his knee. A few scratches through the torn fabric, but in his mind the dual Nerve shot had all but obliterated the flesh from bone.
“Asshole, another limb I’ll replace. Maybe after selling off your junk parts.” He shuffled closer and went in with the powered stake.
Rather rude - my parts might not be top grade, but they were mostly custom work and so much better than his. Probably not the thing I should be worrying at present. As he lunged out at me, I rolled off to the side.
Reflex wore off as I stumbled back to my feet, left arm once again hanging loose and limp by my side. He lashed around but hit nothing but air. Anger and frustration in his face. Perhaps wasteful of me to use both Nerve shots on the same limb right away, but I wanted to guarantee the advantage. Now I could keep him at range and-
With a sharp hiss, his hand popped from his wrist and shot across the gap between us. Impaled my chest, managing to dig in through my ribs, and the sharp protrusions closed by reflex. I gasped from the pain; the rope leading from his shot limb back to his arm becoming taut as he tried to pull me closer. As the metal dug through muscle and tightened on the bone, there was no point in fighting it.
I stumbled towards him, and his stake arm drew back to lash into me. Deflected it with sparks, but he was already pumping a second strike as I recovered. Scraped along the outside of my cybernetic arm before slicing through the super suit. Pneumatic pulsed, and the sharpened tip broke my collar bone before I pushed it away.
His boot came up and pressed against my useless left shoulder, as if he was about to try to pull my rib-cage out with the grasping hand still embedded in me. Thankfully, he still thought that leg was shot, so his placement was sloppy and weak. As his stake-arm drew back, he grinned wildly at seeing me level the shotgun barrel towards his faux-fucked knee.
“Do your worst, shit for brains. I’ll tear your heart out and eat it.”
V-Force up and I clicked the trigger.
The energy from the attack at least pushed his leg away from me and waylaid his intended finishing blow. He probably wouldn’t have felt the actual damage of the glass bursting against his bloodied knee.
What would come next was something entirely different.
I watched as his brow furrowed as he looked at the injury. Saw the small segmented bodies itching and burrowing themselves into the imagined wounds that were an exaggeration of the very real smaller ones.
“What did you do?” Panic and confusion crossed his face. Then, pain, as he felt the Flesheater bugs chewing their way through a part of his leg the Nerve agent hadn't affected.
Claw-hand released me and drew back up as he went to try to pat or grab away at the lumps writhing their way under his clothes. Just as I was trying to right myself back to my own shaking legs, he lashed out at me with the stake.
“What did you do?” he repeated, but my ears were ringing.
Warmth ran down the side of my head, and I staggered back down to my knees. Pain radiated throughout my chest as my breathing slowed, but the side of my head felt numb. Gun-arm shook as I raised it to try to defend the angered assault of the enraged cyborg.
His death was all but guaranteed if I could hold out a little longer, but chances were growing slimmer by the second.
A clash and the force reverberated down my arm as it was flung to the side, leaving me wide open.
Not a bad evening, all things told. Not quite how I wanted to go out, but this was some form of penance for all the sins I had accumulated over the years.
I took one last pained and haggard breath and closed my eyes.
Over the whine of my ringing ears, Clyde screaming, and his cybernetics whirring in anger, the sound of a heavy thunk came from somewhere. Followed by muffled yells rising in pitch.
A soft breeze washed over me, calming and soothing the agony I was trying to ignore.
“On your feet, hero. We are surrounded by criminals to arrest.”
I turned my tired gaze to the resolute speedster as he clicked a ten-mag into my gun-arm.
He had made his choice.