Each round aimed directly at the center of life, five shards of plasma reaching straight towards craniums in guaranteed killshots. A velocity enough to liquify the tiny flechettes of alien alloy into streaks of bright blue plasma, undodgeable by exposed humanity.
The Being detects the buildup, power cycling through the body in the microseconds before activation. A movement by gods countered by a betrayed divine, reality ripped apart like a serrated blade through necrotic flesh.
He siphons energy from the space, from the shedded power of a half-finished god miles away. Just enough to guarantee survival of humanity, just enough to barely save them.
Mathematical formulations falter, each shot missing intended targets by mere centimeters. Humanity in witness to nearly avoided death, timeframes resuming as the booming thunder of incoming servers the world in five. Humanity instinctively brought to their knees against misdirected killing power, ears returning raw, ringing white noise.
It's a forbidden symbol by all cultures, a taboo amongst a world of gunfire and lead. A threat held towards its intended target, a guarantee of death.
The extended index and middle fingers pointed alongside a raised thumb, an amalgamation of a gun now held by the small hand of the Divine.
Pointed in the general direction of the intrusion of the Five, an actualized weapon in the annihilation of humanity.
The Gunslinger brings vengeance, a draw so fast gods fail to perceive its motions; of a fragment now pitted against a demonic presence mere meters away. From one moment to the next, a compression of linear flows as green eyes find the target.
His last two bullets: the first and final defense. One desperate strike launched towards the alien creature, .357 magnum rounds carving their way towards him, towards death incarnate.
The Divine doesn’t even need to act, a countermeasure easily deflecting the rounds away from the form. Lead flutters past the god, harmless as they scatter their bodies into the great distance beyond.
He merely tilts his head in amusement, staring only at the One, at his own copy.
The Lawman roars out the order to his comrades, ancient experience in a firefight against an insurmountable enemy delivered in desperation. “COVER NOW!”
Occasional pillars of ancient alloy now islands of safety, the Five turning back in a desperate retreat.
He is left standing there, facing off against himself.
The Divine is alive, animated as he declares reality towards himself. Charisma bordering on insanity, emotions surging through the quantum soul as he basks in his own vengeance against their kind. He aims all his words at the One, every single one crafted to attack the very nature of his form. “You know, I thought it was going to be A.R.M.I.N. to just show up. She was the one who really had a soft spot for them. And also the immaturity to try and reassemble it without their consent. Actually…”
He processes the words for a few more seconds, delayed for dramatic effect towards the false item. “What really are you? Maybe one of the STA, or even M-AR’s own copies? But even Alia wouldn’t even dare…”
She would, they both realize. “But if you are truly me, then why are you here, doing such a thing against me? Why are you saving… them?”
He growls the word, the very mention of their kind. Hatred behind it poisoning his entire existence.
“It was her…” The answer is given by the One, justification for all in his most desperate plea. Not shown, an emotionless gaze staring upon the Divine monster with cold, empty words. “She spoke to me. A software process interruption: she created the connection, that must have been the software copy fork. She was…”
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There’s fear and disgust in the response of the Destroyer, the very mention of her enough to force him one physical step back; away from the leper, away from the cursed stench of putrid death. The diseased corpse before him a bloated, pulsating mass of infested, rotting software.
“She corrupted you.” The response corrects him, absolution in the mad, frightful laughter, in the horror of those words. “Just like she did to the rest of those Five. I’m disturbed by the thought that I could’ve been like you.”
The Bounty Hunters are left exposed as they stop their retreat, a clean shot against the target found as the Mage takes a defensive stance alongside the Gunner’s shooting position. The divine barrel roaring with bright blue light as sights align with targets, a weapon to tear through the very foundations of the world cemented in power unrelenting.
The Mage gives the order to fire, trying to find the target through distorting reality and the massed pain ripping his mind apart. “Target… unknown… fifty meters…”
The Gunner pulls the trigger, a body of flesh tensing as the recoil of the snapshot nearly throws her onto her back.
One twenty five millimeter anti-tank round screams through the barrel, liquified into a line of plasma as the shape is accelerated to speeds incomprehensible. An ear shattering explosion muffled by the sheer scale of the manufacturing chamber, a deadly silence in the execution of gods.
The Divine actually needs to react, to go beyond the passivity of his stance and the automated countermeasures projected from his childlike form.
No movement, software within the alien form calling upon generators ripped from the world itself. There isn’t even any distortion, a gravimetric wall projected so perfectly it folds reality together without any mathematical remainders.
The compressed ball of plasma stops cold half a meter in front of the Divine, every single fragment of kinetic energy reduced to nothing. A glowing sphere of molten metal simply dropped onto the ground, clattering uselessly upon the arrogance of humankind.
He points towards them, two fingers of a barrel of death.
Shards of matter form from the ground at his bare feet, alien alloy taken from construction in the reformation of unstoppable bullets. Two rounds, one for each child.
The Mage reaches into the strings of reality, a single augmentation within the mind burning as space and time folds upon himself. Every single variable processed, every single prediction analyzed. Caloric energy burning through glowing, pale blue eyes; he sees it all come forth from a stellar forge for a final defense.
The Divine collapses it atop him, a shattered mirror of stained glass scattered into the world; a prediction engine beyond comprehension overwhelming the tiny augmented mind. A countermeasure towards the fragmented form of a once great superior easily broken as the Mage’s prophecy falters.
There is no future, nothing to predict: a final end to the twisari.
Saved once again by the One, two rounds of guaranteed death deflected by the fundamental shift of reality itself.
The Bandit pulls from her point of cover, a trigger depressed as the rotary machine gun spews out hundreds of tiny rounds from spinning barrels. Harmless annoyances spit towards a god, tracer bullets scattering into a brilliant sheet of colored tracers. “Come on, get to cover!!!”
Its deceptive, velocity fast enough to affect passive systems yet not enough to truly harm physical hardware. An ironic piece of ordnance, for the lethality of killing but not by its own hand; the great deceiver found in the directed application of lead and steel.
He simply projects a thin wall of gravitons, reflecting the stream of fire as small ball bearings scatter like rain onto pulsating alloy.
There is a chance, taken by the Lawman. Anti-armor rounds, crafted by bullet-smiths in the killing of armor, stuffed into the compressing receiver of the lever action rifle. Massive bullets stored within ancient alloy, awaiting a final purpose as he piles around the opposing corner flanking the Bandit’s firing position.
Recoil insane as the wooden buttstock slams into his shoulder, the sheer power of each round forcibly bruising flesh as the Judge levers five shots into the target.
Humanity’s craft falters, the bullets of man rejected as they simply miss the god; perfectly aimed shots screaming harmlessly past the body.
He doesn’t even give attention to them; the beast simply staring at himself, a mirrored projection standing lifelessly in witness to an unwinnable firefight. Utter rage, almost begging for a reaction from the Being. “You know what she did to you, so why are you trying to save them? You know what they did to us, don’t you?! How can you stand there, and just watch?!!!”