The heavily armored cyborg stomped forward snapping floorboards. The industrial blender strapped to one arm was set to maximum overdrive. The neon tubed chest lit through a light covering of oil. Its gears clunked as the second arm rotated forward leaking smoke that smelled of gas.
“Hahah,” it laughed robotically.
“What’s so funny you armored NPC?” quipped Edward.
“It is actually T.C.B,” replied the robocall.
The cyborg started shredding the edge of the checkered loveseat. Edward fled to the back exit of the tiny home on rails. He swatted aside the lock with his sore hardened stump and attached launcher of ropes, but no hook. He was immediately almost blown away by a gust of wind that tilted the porch almost 90 degrees. The tiny home continued to rumble along the rail over a void of nothingness swinging wildly side to side. Edward hung onto a railing for dear life.
“I’m going to curb stomp a King,” buzzed the cyborg in slow pursuit.
Edward hesitated at the edge of the decking as the structure began to stabilize for now. He spotted one of the bootlickers running along the ledge of a station growing increasingly far below in distance. The fish waved a greeting from at least 100 feet holding a looted boot in its fins. He shifted vision to the second one struggling to unlock a metal gate. They must have jumped off when the platforms had briefly interrupted routes. He had missed the stop and spun round to loud grinding sounds.
The small wall was quickly torn apart into saw dust by a rotating blender. Next came a continuous gust of flames lit the open air from the other arm. It swept the back porch with its flamethrower. The tiny home attached to a moving air rail with a collapsed roof was now also on fire.
“Get roasted,” said the cyborg, both its armaments winding down.
The porch crackled as a beam spit apart. The head of the cyborg rotated in RGB vision scanning for the target.
"Area negative for king slaying," It reported.
“Remain laser focused on confirming the kill until it’s done,” replied the loud static of the executive Elf.
“Yes boss,” said T.C.B.
Edward interrupted the conversation by pouncing from above. The cyborg remained upright, but was kicked back through the woodwork it had previously chewed. The feet were braked by the cushion of flaming furniture. The chest leaked smoking fluids as the blender started noisily whirring as it accelerated through the kitchen re-engaging.
Edward aimed and fired out wires from his launcher as it emerged for another round of action. His line had been grabbed in the turbo blending rotation.
“Ha caught you!” said T.C.B., continuing to flame the area.
The wires were rapidly rewinding, and pulling him towards being roasted alive. Edward turned and jumped from the platform into a swan dive. His stomach was butterflies as he free fell barreling towards the platform below. He was jerked screaming right before impact and flung back towards the spinning auger. The flames jutted over the side of the tiny home in anticipation. The ropes of the hook launcher loudly protested, cutting deep into the cheap pulpy siding.
“AAA!” yelled Edward, shooting face first towards underneath decking.
He came crashing through cheap timber directly into the cyborg.
"Wham!"
He punched it into the burning building, clanking and sputtering along the way. Edward found his arm hauled further up track before the wires snapped due to the heat. There were only three escapes he could think of quickly, and naturally he would gamble for the riskiest, but also best outcome of making it home.
The reinforced metal legs clanked forward into the small area, cracking tiles. A hand turned on the clicking burner as it rounded the corner. Its arm ripped apart a cabinet to gain clearance, while it punted a trash can away. On the floor food and fridge trays littered in front of the occupied appliance. The thick ice box door was slammed shut from inside sealing the occupants fate.
“It’s barbecue time,” replied T.C.B., shooting flames from an arm thrower. “Sponsored by pure Elf propane” .
A stream of fire roasted above a sink, and gas stove. It began rapidly heating the outside of the refrigerator. There was a loud hissing of escaping gas from the top of the stove.
“BOOM!”
The oven leak caught flame into an explosion.The tiny house and platform ceased to be held by air rail. A rain of wood splinters and home insulation into a void of nothing. There was another anchored housing platform conveniently far below. The stocked fridge fell like an anvil landing on the building.
Edward was locked unconscious inside while he smashed his second roof, through two upper floors in short order. There had been four Elves who happened to be counting gold bricks in a small vault in the third. Three stood looking at the appliance impact zone in horror at a crushed body. The fridge door blew open leaking clouds of cold gas. The Elf boss shivered, and shielded their face with a briefcase.
“Watch yourself it isn’t a zombie gas to turn us rigor mortis,” an underling quivered.
“Nonsense my noodles were in that this morning,” scolded the Elf Boss.
A crowned head emerged from the fridge.
“He’s naked,” shrieked the Elf underling.
“He’s still alive and dangerous,” said the Elf boss, extending a hand in warning. “Where's our cyborg at?
They began to tremble at the awkward silence.
“It was blown to bits hahaha,” said Edward, his hand resting on his escape pod. “Now it’s high time you become escorted by me,” he finished by showing stump in threatening fashion.
The three Elves threw their hands in the air in defeated response. Edward turned to remove steaming charred knights armor from the icebox.
“I want a fancy suit boss, I need something to wear,” demanded Edward, extending his lethal weapon.
“You will take a lawsuit from the one you crushed with a refrigerator is what you will do” said Boss Elf, stamping their feet in command.
“Ahh an accident caused by an industrial appliance equipped in the hands of your very own thoroughbred cyborg that did them in, but my royal insurance will cover regardless” King Edward replied, tearing off the bloodied pants sticking out from the crash.
“Here take these lets, trade,” he said, throwing them at the Elf CEO.
The clothes hit a panicked target who threw their hands and screamed. “Whoever is the lowest ranked here will be wearing the soiled clothes” their voice got smaller as they ran away.
“Yes master,” said the other Elves, who promptly followed their master.
Edward pursued them into the next area. An industrial zone full of belts, machinery, and cobwebs. A machine rumbled in the corner overflowing a hopper on the floor with gold dust.
“Ahh suits the greedy bastards,” said Edward, studying his captives working a combination lock in panic.
His plans to interrupt the Elves' plan was cut off by noise. The sound of jet propulsion, and grinding metal emitted from the ceiling. A sea of sparks dropped from the square hole cutter. An industrial attachment twisted an entrance for a jet packing cyborg to descend. T.C.B. had been flame broiled, with smoking plastic head covering melted, and clothing flaming.
“Thought it would be that easy hah remember our minds will always be better, and now we have found a way to circumvent Elf labor laws by executing business, and political dissidents into our a loyal troop at last for the Elves”, laughed the Boss extending a triumphant hand to the sky.
“AAAA,” They screamed.
The speech cut off as they were ensnared in the launched wires. Edward held a hostage, with a sword to the throat.
“Burn me baby,” he taunted the hovering drone.
The cyborg’s low resolution predator vision of 16 pixels locked to the target. An S on the tier list for most wanted by Elves. It went crazy with text alert sounds confirming the license to kill.
“NOOOO!” cried the Elf Boss as fire from their creation engulfed the area.
Edward whipped his stump launcher with the attached hostage before diving for cover. The Boss fell forward still clutching their briefcase. They screamed as the fire burned into bones, and fake leather melted away to the same building materials equal to any other life.
“Haha you don’t discriminate with that weapon,” Edward quipped, while his body was smoking blackened.
A valve loudly squeaked signaling another round of action. T.C.B. slowly rotated in the air trying to track a sprinting target. The steam jutted from the rest of the soiled cyborg being heated by the attached jetpack.
“Let’s turn up the gas,” it said, floating forward.
Edward ran into the next room chased by intense heat. The remaining four Elves scampered outside the next exit. They reinforced the door with boards and nails. They worked overtime nervously watching the hallway on the other side through the door lite window. Edward skidded around the corner and spotted them down the hall through the glass.
“So your species is capable of working with your hands” yelled Edward, raising the stump to threaten his next meal.
He could hear the hiss of jet thrusters in pursuit. There was nowhere to go but forward for now. Edward used his stump as a battering ram and broke through to the other side in three hits. The elves had long scrambled.
The next area was filled with hanging bags of blood. Skeletons also hung in dusty plastic bags on coat hangers like dry cleaning. A tray of lab instruments next to a covered hospital bed bound with chains. The glass smashed and the sign with helpful bright colors and directional arrow reading “morgue” fell.
T.C.B. clipped through a wall in presuit liting papers on a desk below. It broke descending to ground level. The walls rumbled with each cyborg stomp forward. Edward pushed aside two double doors. The steady stomps continued outside muffled. The small brick room was a dead end.
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The area was naked except for an oven marked crematorium above it. The large metal latch overhead opened leading to grated inside underneath a dark void calling. A single dirty red button hung beside the furnace begging to be pressed. There was only one place to hide in this area by crawling beyond the red tape warning where the flame was set to minimum.
The threatening sound of stomps grew behind the walls with the tension where they stopped. The silence was brief, immediately replaced with the whirl of drilling wood. Soon the splinters gave way as the cyborgs' attached arm bore through the sole exit. It cleared the plaster after the target.
“Where are you?” It asked.
“Right here,” replied Edward, jumping out of the shadows ringing the cyborg’s helmet with his stump from behind the frame.
On the other hand still has a sword. He lunged forward trying to kabob a patch of exposed flesh. The jet pack activated in close quarters sputtering emissions moving away any remaining good air. The sword rang flopping away from the wrist of its user after clanging off the cyborg's outer shell.
“Drats,” cursed Edward, dropping the weapon due to debilitating arthritic sears.
The cyborg rocked into the far wall and continued the clanging. It had fallen awkwardly with flailing attachments. Sparks flew from the stone floor. The man retrieved his sword.
“Let’s finish this,” he said, cautiously approaching the killing position.
“Hahahaha,” leaked with the oil from the brainwashed weaponized Elf.
When that emotion was completed the thrower started firing. Thick flames bounced off the floor into the open oven. Edward jumped back with locks smelling of sulfur and almost roasted alive. The rotating arm of death had stopped grinding sparks, but now it was extending like a third foot. It pushed the cyborg back onto its others. The sharp auger revved forward into attack while the jetpack shot it extending towards him. The Elf Boss cackled watching from heavily damaged retinas.
Edward calmly loosened his body sideways into game position. He batted for home.
“Whack,”.
The cyborg was driven directly into the open oven. The victor promptly grabbed the handle and slammed closed with his good hand. His remaining strength was depleted, Edward stumbled forward like a schlock-o-maniac. He tumbled slamming into the big red button before totally collapsing in on himself. The metal door was being drilled through as the cyborg was engulfed in flames of the incinerator.
Edward cradled himself and his ears on the floor. Inside on a rapidly heating bed of embers the loud scraping drill continued trying to escape being cremated for a long time. The sound effects haunted Edward’s brief nightmares.
Later two knights rested their bones near the area’s single mangy tree. They were on the outskirts of the underground graveyard. A cliff to nothing was below their feet, and a cavern wall they rested their backs against.
“Ugh where do we go now,” Zito sighed.
“Common sense says we should only follow paths that lead upwards from here on out, but there's only down,” replied Mooseman.
“Yeah we’ve established we should stay away from that tunnel,” said Zito, pointing to a dark passage.
“Yeah well I'm bored enough to do something stupid, here I go,” said Mooseman, standing to attention.
It was unbeknownst to them that their former king had ventured here into stock factory trouble.
“Here is where we wait for death to return, there is where we face it head on,” said Mooseman.
“Aye,” nodded Zito in agreement.
The cavern wall was beginning to rumble like a stomach. They jumped from the coffin they had been resting. A nearby section in the rocks pulled away forming an exit.
“What the farc is going on?” asked the Knights in unison.
“Missed me?” a mysterious voice called from the darkness.
The knights lowered their swords until the Elves started emerging.
“It’s a trap” yelled Mooseman, panicking.
“No it is your leader speaking lower your weapons if you want to escape with me,” screamed Edward seething with rage as he power walked into the cavern.
“Oh,” said Mooseman.
“These fellows will be accompanying us back to the teleport pad," he added.
Zito looked sheepish as two Elves waved at them walking out of the secret exit. The party of five walked into the large deserted graveyard. Soon sinew, bones and other bits crunched underneath their feet. Otherwise it was quiet, except for the hooting of an owl. A thick mist overtook them, while a chilly wind blew in snowflakes.
“Now we have to play the fun game of retracing our steps,” said Mooseman.
“I believe we should be heading in that direction,” said Zito, pointing past the circle of tombs, and the mound of collapsed rubble.
They all followed the familiar path for some time until something didn’t figure.
“Where’s the gate out of the graveyard?” asked Edward.
“That’s just what I was thinking” mouthed an Elf.
“Over here,” yelled Zito from ahead somewhere obscured.
“Where are you?” Asked Edward.
Mooseman ran out of the fog of war and pointed. “Dead ahead king, you can’t miss it."
Soon they returned to the freezer where the saw blade was lined with blood frozen between the teeth that had been cut. The ice blocks were silent, and a meat hook was dangling far overhead.
“Now comes the hard part,” said Mooseman, removing his pack to search within.
“I wish I could at least hold onto that rusted hook,” said Edward.
A switch flicked, and a chain winch began to rattle.
“What have you gone and done?” yelled Mooseman on his feet. “You two are prisoners, don't touch anything or else,”.
He grabbed an Elf off a control panel and began to shake it. The meat hook lowered in front of them at crown height.
“Smack!”
Mooseman tumbled away from the Elf. He clutched his head on the floor with a bloodied hand. “Ughh that stump is hard,”.
“That will be enough, those Elves are VIPs of our party with no discipline for them as long as they don’t run off,” said Edward, adjusting the cuff of an elven underling tailored suit he had looted.
“Yes sir” mumbled Mooseman, crouching to render first aid. “That was an overreaction from stress i’m afraid,”
“Are you a witch doctor?” asked Edward.
“Well urm no..” said the husky knight, winding a bandage around a bald head. “But he will be fine. The real question is how do we climb to ground level when we take a slippery chute to get here,”.
“Easy” replied the bruised Elf, tapping a section of ice.
The freezer rumbled as a door opened revealing climbing steps behind the icicles.
“Come here often?” Asked Edward, grabbing the rusted meat hook, rattling the thick metal holding it from him. .
“No. We just have a superior tier of vision to humans,” said the blue bruised creature limping away.
“I didn’t even hit them, you Elves are more fragile than our babies,” grumbled Mooseman, standing.
“A natural reaction from abuse of neanderthals taking a mirror from its robes that was shattered,” said the smarmy Elf.
“Clink, Clink, clang,”.
A knight's sword fell into broken pieces as a prize fell from a crane. He had broken it getting his prize. Edward laughed whilst he screwed on a greatly downgraded meat hook to his launcher. It had been tricky to figure out how to use the key to unlock the chuck accepting a temporary cutter instrument.
“Huff puff I’m getting to no longer be an effortless youth, “said Edward, spitting a frozen coating of phlegm on the last remaining step.
The Elves lounged behind the knights crunched under exertion in the adjacent corner.
“I can’t believe we had carried you since the 13th or so staircase,” groaned Mooseman.
“K Thanks,” replied the Elves.
“Where now? If we’re lost babysitting these goons I’m gonna go mental” screamed Zito.
The Elves shook their heads.
“Don’t ask us,” they said.
“Well how about that superior vision ladies and gentlemen they see the same things I do, and tell the same lies as I,” said Edward.
“Actually now that you mention it there’s a bright flashing arrow leading the way,” said the Elf standing in gaudy pink boots underneath in a matching robe.
“I see it too ha we are so much better to see,” said the second, rising too quickly for anyone to catch the scope of the bigger picture.
“Well well let’s be off to see the superior nature of Elf, I really am becoming a hardliner of that thinking myself even as a deeply self interested human,” said Edward prancing in presuit.
“I’m going to check my pack for grub. I'll catch up with you soon, here take this off my hands for now," said Mooseman, handing off his shotgun.
“Alright chief if you really insist,” mumbled Zito like he was sleep walking away with the others.
“Ahh finally some peace and quiet,” said Mooseman, cracking open the lid of something pickled. He dumped the contents into his mouth and gulped it down in under five seconds.
“Burp I guess I’m top of a tier list in something alright,” quipped the drooling knight.
“You know you will die unless you follow my advice, you want to escape right,” a shrill voice cut through the room like a sword.
Mooseman jumped. A beady set of red eyes revealed themselves from the stairs. Then a painted theater mask covered in makeup, but from the neck down was rotten and disfigured jester garb half hooked with suspenders.
“I’m Snaggy. Now you should learn lessons from fools and secure your future. The teleport requires a knight's sacrifice to ensure it ain’t your noggin being digitally uploaded.”
Clang!
A direct hit from the sardine can went right through the ghost.
“Out of jester no time for pranks,” said the knight shuffling away after the party.
He crossed through what looked to be a machine underbelly. Pipes ran with every color of wire forming a difficult area to traverse.
“Hehe don’t tell you I didn’t warn you either you or him buddy don’t forget. Shape your destiny or be the victim hehe,” said the Jester near an overflowing bin of trash.
Mooseman grunted, swinging his weapon swiping right through a target like air. The rubbish coated the immediate area he ran away with no defense against ectoplasm.
“Hehe,” spit the Jester cartwheeling into the dark.
A light ahead kept what little sanity was left.
“Hey guys where are you going?” Called Mooseman.
“Here we are,” a voice called around the bend.
The Knight rounded the corner and found himself in the familiar mainframe computer room among the others. The Elves stood over the computer terminal muttering strange things among themselves. Zito talked with Edward.
“No no,” an Elf raised a finger in warning. “This machine doesn’t have the necessary ram power to teleport anyone no chance let's go.”
“Bummer,” said Zito, resting on a cylinder in one corner.
Edward suddenly pounced forward into attacking. A bucket of blood splashed behind the slashed Elf as their essence was absorbed, and the cylinder lowered with a stomach full of soul. There were two containers remaining to be filled. The other Elf threw themselves into Zito's arms who dropped them. They crawled below the confused knight who readied his borrowed boomstick.
“Now I don’t want to shoot anyone, but there ain't gonna be any more who die on my watch," said Zito, aiming at a crown.
“You ain’t got no clothes anymore Edward, I’ll shoot if you do anything more,” he finished, clicking the revolver's hammer.
“Uggggrlllglr,” he sputtered, spitting blood in shock.
A blade pierced his stomach.
“Sorry buddy, but I wanna get home. I can't deal with any more bullshit, it's your or me,” said Mooseman, retracting his backstab.
"Fuck you man," sputtered Zito, sputtering as his lungs filled with fluids.
“Yeah I deserve that,” mumbled Moosman, holding him in his arms.
The remaining Elf cried in pain as Edward hooked them through the chest. The remaining cylinders retracted into the haunted temple as the computer buzzed, and the screen lit green with a text smiley.
":) I love you yumm yum :)".
“Alright man, welcome to the road-crew,” said Edward, helping the last knight to climb away from the deceased on the floor.
Edward extended a fist that Mooseman half heartedly completed. A surge of energy erupted in the center of the mainframe. The air was sucked into a farc portal that slowly opened.
“Remember to bring reinforcements to 12345 Killin Wood and save my ass,” said Edward.
“Yes sir, I'll have to get a bearing of things when I reach the surface again. After that I'm so excited to join you guys on the tour bus when things return to normal it's going to be like a full time backstage pass,”said Mooseman.
“HEY do it as fast as possible or no tour gotcha,” screeched Edward.
“Yes sir no monkey business of course,” said Mooseman, doing the green salute.
“Zap!” Edward tumbled away into the portal.
He fell dodging other objects, and people on similar journeys. Arms waving towards a dirty body of water. The crown fell off, and he shot the hook in panic. A fast falling object splashed into a swamp. The water bubbled, crickets chirped, and frogs splashed for cover. A waterlogged man emerged to the surface. He struggled coated in mud choking from the flop. He spit water searching for breath. A dark shadow of a skiff on patrol burst into flooding light on his location. Edward was blinded by lights, while nearby voices called out spreading the alarm, waking dogs that began to bark hungry for the hunt.
“It’s mighty fine to be back home,” said Edward, feeling his head that had at some point lost the crown.
He struggled through the mud of the swamp readying his rusted meat hook.