1

There was silence, not peace.

Cynthia began to make suspicious movements even before she reached them. She hadn't holstered the revolvers and why should she? She still saw enemies ahead, ready to keep fighting. She had to make things clear to him.

"What are you doing?"

Cynthia looked at him as if surprised. Yes, very clear, or else she'd do something stupid even if she agreed to back down for the moment.

"The fight isn't over yet."

"No, it's not over yet. That's why we can't afford to fight among ourselves. More will come. We need her, whether you like it or not. Besides... Besides, do you think I'm in any state to try?" He hated to admit it out loud, in front of her on top of it, but even though he had gotten stronger, the same went for the Lunar Princess. Would he ever be able to reach her? Would there even be a way to bridge that gap?

Cynthia thought about it.

"Okay. But I don't have to like it." And at last, at last, she returned the pistols to their holsters.

"That's not what I'm asking."

Problem solved, though he wasn't sure if for good, definitely, or if she'd just wait for them both to turn around so she could shoot Heather in the back. As if that would do anything.

Anyway, all in good time. One step at a time.

That was the question.

What should the next step be?

2

Julius's eyes flew open, his heart in a fist, and for a moment he thought the tremors were a remnant of the nightmare he had been suffering silently all night. But then the moment passed, he had to acknowledge that he was fully awake and in danger.

The building was trembling down to its very foundations. What was happening, a large scale earthquake?

As he got out of bed he lost his balance and fell head first to the floor. Fuck, not that it was a bad fall, but it hurt pretty bad and made it hard to get back on his feet.

He had to get out of here. Whatever it was, he had to get out of here before the house fell on top of him. He staggered out of the bedroom, feeling like one of those fucking lunatics who crossed from building to building on a tightrope, with or without a harness.

Yes, the tightrope, Julius thought. My whole life is on a tightrope. And the fall is very big. Endless, to the center of the earth. If I screw up, if I fuck it up, the fall awaiting me is too big.

Living under the threat of the Lunar Remnants, people were used to thinking about things like what they would rescue from their house if something happened. They were just another natural disaster, only they came much more frequently than any earthquake or hurricane.

(Is that it? Are they here, are they here now, is that it?)

He had been no exception, he believed

(is that it? is that it?)

that he had it all figured out. But at the moment of truth he could think of nothing, absolutely nothing. The only thing he wanted to rescue from the tightrope was his life itself. Everything else was just stuff. He had to live. He had to survive, even if he was left with nothing in the process. Whatever it took, he would survive, he would survive!

Julius walked out of his house, out of his apartment, into the hallway.

As if they had been waiting for him...

At that very moment, a piece of the wall in front of his eyes broke away from the building.

No, it was torn away.

By a gigantic hand.

And metallic. He watched those huge metal fingers flex, transforming the chunk of wall into a shower of debris that would crush like ants whatever was below. Cars and people alike. The road, the lampposts, everything, everything.

Everything and everyone is on a tightrope.

Not since now, since ten years ago. We're all fucked. Fucked up the ass.

Julius wanted to run away, but his legs were kind of pinned to the ground. It wasn't an earthquake and it wasn't a Lunar Remnant either, he was pretty sure that wasn't how they worked. This was, well, a giant robot.

A giant freaking robot, like something out of an anime.

Am I dreaming, am I still dreaming?

Nothing and no one answered him and the awakening didn't come. Of course it didn't.

Finally he managed to break his paralysis. Julius ran for the stairs, ignoring the screams, the other people running around like headless chickens. He had never been too fond of his neighbors, but even otherwise he had to survive at all costs.

So he took a shortcut.

He jumped over the staircase railing, landing on his knees on the floor below, ahead of the people who had rushed down the stairs.

"You retarded fucker!"

"You pushed me down on purpose, you pushed me!"

"Don't step on me, don't you see that you're stepping on me, ah, don't you see that...!"

"Why are you running? We're all going to die. We're already dead."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Useless voices.

Even more useless feelings. He didn't know what was wrong with the last idiot who spoke, but Julius felt very much alive. He had no intention of throwing in the towel while he could still feel the wild beating of his heart, begging him to live.

The elevator was the fastest way.

Julius was the first to get to the elevator, naturally, and he didn't wait for anyone else before pressing the button for the second floor. He wondered if it was a good idea to squeeze into this narrow metal box under the current circumstances, and maybe it really wasn't a good idea, but neither was it a good idea to keep running down ten floors. No matter how fast he ran, he wouldn't go faster than the elevator. The elevator was his only chance of survival.

He would survive. He would survive!

It was a fact, not a chance. He would survive at all costs!

The elevator reached the second floor, the doors began to open albeit too slowly, so Julius threw himself through the opening without even waiting until they were all the way open. It crossed his mind that they might close on him. Complete nonsense, of course, nothing happened, he made it to the other side without a problem. But he vividly imagined his body being split in two by the elevator doors.

No problem.

No problem.

He walked to the entrance with no problems, but.... What now?

That thing was out there.

What now?

He couldn't go out there, he'd be squashed like a bug. Like an animal run over in the middle of the road, he would be completely unrecognizable and would have no chance of escape.

So what? Was he going to have any chance of saving himself by standing still? Gathering more courage than he had ever needed for anything in his life, more courage than he had ever thought he had, Julius ran again.

But not toward the exit.

His car. He needed his car, he wouldn't get very far on foot.

The exits of the city would be crowded with people with the same idea, among those who had managed to survive and make it this far, so sooner or later he would be forced to leave the car behind and then....

Well, then it would be a matter of luck.

As usual.

Because humanity was hanging on a very tight rope.

3

"Hold on, mom. I'm here, I'm here. I'm here, I won't leave you."

Of course he wouldn't.

What kind of son would? But he didn't know what he was saying to begin with, he was saying the first thing that popped into his head in a low tone with the intention (or rather the hope) of being reassuring.

What nonsense. What nonsense you are saying. The debris... How is she going to calm down, no matter what you say, even if you're there? How is she going to calm down when...?

"Just a little bit more. It's almost there, mom. We'll get out of here together."

He didn't understand how he hadn't burst into tears yet, but his voice didn't inspire any confidence. He sounded as if he had suddenly become ten years younger, maybe more.

A sickening crunch, a crunch that turned his guts. He did his best to hold back the urge to vomit.

He had to be strong.

Mom was trapped under the rubble, so he had to be strong for her. Mom had been strong for him all her life, it was time to return the favor, now, when she needed him the most, right now. It had to be now or they would soon be dead even if the iron giant didn't come back to kill them all. The building wasn't looking so good.

But just a little more, just a little more and he'd get her out of there.

The rubble would have crushed his legs, but he would carry her on his back if he had to. He would do anything.

Why isn't she talking?

Well, that's because...

He finished pulling her up, finally pulling her out from under the rubble. Pulling her out of the darkness into the light. Yes, the light coming through the open crack in the building allowed her to see more than she wanted to.

Because she is already dead.

The rubble hadn't crushed her legs.

They had split her in half.

The boy, back to the moment of his birth, could do nothing but cry inconsolably with a force as if it really was the first time his lungs had tasted the air of the hostile outside world.

No one would come to soothe his cry.

The umbilical cord had already been severed for good.

4

"What is it now?" Sylvester answered the call immediately. A giant robot? In San Francisco?

If you asked him, he'd say he'd repeated it out loud to save himself having to explain it. And it was true, but only fifty percent, maybe less. Mostly it was out of sheer disbelief.

"Great."

He listened some more and then hung up, resigned. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as usual. He sighed heavily.

"A giant robot?" Cynthia asked.

"In San Francisco?" Ryan repeated.

"Yes, I said that already. What the hell do we do now?"

Heather made the black crystal sword disappear, and only then he realized that she hadn't done it yet. He understood her motives, not that she'd have been at a disadvantage without it even if Cynthia had been stupid enough to attack her.

"I'll leave the survivors of my army here, guarding the portals." It wasn't exactly what worried him, what caused him the most uncertainty, but it was also important. "I don't think they could be of much use against a giant robot anyway. As for what to do about it, don't you have one of those too? Fight fire with fire, or something."

"I'm afraid not," Sylvester replied, deadpan.

"Pity. I would have liked to have seen you ride one of those."

"Why?"

"You don't have to think so hard." What? It was a very simple and straightforward question. "Because it would be cool, I think." Then, turning to Ryan and Cynthia, maybe everyone in the clearing, "Don't you think?"

"I guess," said Cynthia, who had probably only been half-listening.

"I don't know," said Ryan, "I think he's more the lone hero type, with the unnecessarily long trench coat and katana, when he could have chosen a European sword or literally anything else. It's an impractical shape for a sword and they used to break like they were made of paper, folded a thousand times or not."

His first instinct was, of course, to tell them to shut up. To point out that right now, in San Francisco, a giant robot was brutally murdering thousands of people. Not just with intent to kill, but also simply for walking by, sure. Depending on how giant they meant by giant, a thing like that could cause major catastrophes just by taking a stroll.

But Sylvester bit his tongue.

If now wasn't the time for joking, when would it be? Wasn't this the kind of time when they needed to laugh the most? If they took everything as seriously as it was they'd end up going crazy from the pressure.

Just like him.

Well, Cynthia and Ryan were kidding.

He wasn't so sure about Heather.

"So all we can do is wait for the helicopters to arrive?" Cynthia asked.

"You guys, and any agents left alive on this damn island, have to wait for that. I..."

"Have wings?"

"No. Well, yes, but I wouldn't get very far." Not with the PM bar still less than half full. "I'm waiting for... an experiment. Don't ask."

Cynthia nodded and nothing else, much to his surprise.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long. About ten minutes later a capsule of sorts landed in the middle of the field, barely tall and wide enough to hold a human being. Yes, it would be a bit cramped and uncomfortable.

"I'll go with you," Heather said, grabbing the side of the capsule. Apparently, she didn't need any explanations. None of his other comrades asked for explanations either. They just looked at him.

“Good luck," Cynthia and Ryan said, almost in sync.

He nodded.

" Same to you."

He closed the capsule, pushed the button.

And just like that he shot off two or three times faster than his top speed as he flew toward San Francisco.

Toward a giant fucking robot.

From fucking outer space.

A God Made of Steel (1): END