"Was it exciting, learning that you had been chosen to be a Samurai? They Practically rule the world."
"Well, we've had decades to earn the respect that just wasn't there in the early years. Plus it's difficult to feel anything besides pain when an AI decides to drop into your brain. Not to forget everyone screaming and dying around you while your hands are covered in blood."
- From Angela Rain's award winning interview with Outlaw.
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A tidal wave of shattered glass, mangled steel, and concrete rubble crashes across the Vegas Strip. Neon lights burst like fireworks in the night, illuminating the colossal plant alien as its head is shredded apart. A haunting howl fills the night, echoing over the mayhem of the invasion.
Dread Wolf licks the green ichor from the kitchen knife length claws of his giant werewolf form.
“Stop showing off and bring down another! Lancer, the army needs help with those artillery models!”
A woman in white armor salutes with her archaic weapon, “On it Sarge!”
While simpler men could get lost in her silky french accent, the rest would have wide eyes as she warps the steel wreckage around her into the shape of a horse and mounts up.
The big bad wolf growls in defiance of orders only to yelp at the sound of a gunshot just behind him. The previously invisible alien slumps to the ground at his feet.
“Just keep doing what you do best Fido,” A smirking man straight out of a western reloads his revolver with a spinning flourish.
Sargent Glory cuts down another of the swarming canine model threes with his adamantium sword, “Did you find the hive yet, Outlaw?”
“No, I stopped to try the poker tables. Of Course I tracked it down! Now follow me and try and catch up to my dead plant monster count!”
The awkwardness of the cliche line is only outdone by the wind knocking the cowboy hat from his messy black hair.
Dread Wolf and Sarge both fail to hide their laughter.
“You wanna try that line again, Kurt?” An arm in green spandex reaches out from Dread Wolf’s chest and pats Outlaw on the back.
“Cut!!!” Shrieks a disembodied voice as parts of the scenery flicker out. The holograph tech starts to reset to the moment before the casino’s mini eiffel tower speared the crashing carrier model Antithesis. Superhero movies always have nice toys.
Kurt could never remember the model numbers… or most of his lines by the script.
Picking up his dusty black cowboy hat, “Just watch, he’s going to run out of the production trailer and act like I controlled the wind to knock off this damn hat.”
‘Sarge’ sighs, “I don’t remember you having this many wardrobe problems in the last film.”
The cowboy’s grey eyes can’t help rolling, “Well Bob, when you decided to set the record for salary per film, the money had to come from somewhere.”
“Sorry man,” Bob grimaces, maybe feeling guilty, more likely just a good actor. “I was wondering why I didn’t see your whip anywhere in the script. My son loves that second film.”
Kurt scratches a scar on his left eyebrow, “I’m not complaining about that one.”
Jonathan, the man playing the giant werewolf, waves a claw, “Don’t sweat it dude. Besides, I think Outlaw here having the typical jank gear of a reformed villain is pretty accurate to the webcomic.”
“Right…” Kurt tries to look past the bestial hologram, “I guess I shouldn’t complain about loose clothes near a guy that has to wear a spandex bodysuit every movie. I imagine that it breathes better than black leather?”
Bob interjects, “You guys don’t have the liquid cooling liner?”
This time Dread Wolf just sighs at the sky, “Actually, go fuck yourself Bob.” The wolf’s eyes narrow, “You guys see that?”
Both actors look up as well.
Light pollution creates a dull glow against the haze filled air typical of every big city.
Kurt turns back, “What?”
“I swear I just saw a shadow in the clouds.”
Sarge grimaces, "Lets hope it's not another stunt to protest the movie."
From around a corner runs Kurt’s perennial assistant, Jen, “I have a clip for your hat Kurt!”
While the other two actors discuss how their fans reacted to this movie using a global crisis for profit, ‘Outlaw’ takes a seat on a roadside planter.
Jen whispers, “Sorry I’m late!”
“I didn’t know I needed to glue the damn thing to my head!” Kurt chuckles, “Your boy alright?”
She blows a blonde lock from her eyes while adjusting his hair, “He’s more excited that he won the fight than the fact he broke three fingers on the other kid’s nose.”
“I told him not to hit with the flat angle without gloves!”
“Excuse me?!”
“Er, What did the school say?” He avoids looking into the angry mom’s green eyes.
She pokes his scalp with the clip in retaliation, “He’s suspended.” a heart wrenching sigh escapes her lips, “They said they will be reviewing whether to drop him from the program.”
Kurt’s mind races with regrets and what ifs, could haves and should haves.
He almost reaches for her hand, remembering all the good times growing up on the same street. It’s his absolute failure as a boyfriend that stops him. Jen and her son… not his son.
“You’re doing it again, thinking too much or not at all.” she places the hat on his head, then pokes at the prop bandolier of bullets across his chest, “Did they cheap out on ordering blanks again or did you actually take your costume to the range? Someone could get hurt, Kurt!”
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When he doesn't answer she leans level with him again, “We’ll be fine Mr. Cowboy. His grades are better than mine ever were, they can’t afford to lose him. Just think, one day I’ll finally have a handsome doctor to look after me… although they probably didn’t have computer engineering in mind.”
Smirking, her eyes glance in the direction she knows a hundred camera drones are hidden.
Whispering even softer while pretending to look at something under his hat brim, “I don’t recall saying I’d never forgive you, ya know.”
Another rollercoaster of emotions punches him in the gut, remembering every detail. One minute he was lighting up on the couch, the next he woke up face first in a bag of chips. His phone ringing with the hospital on caller id. The clock showed he was hours late for his date.
Then taking her a pair of fresh clothes to the urgent care. The police tell them they put out a warrant but it’s best they just move on. Jen’s father slamming him to the floor when she read the little white test strip.
Does he even deserve another chance?
Johnathan’s voice carries over his downward spiral, “Is Aaron fucking with the holograms again?”
One of the model three plant dogs is stalking up to him and Bob.
‘Sarge’ laughs and lifts his sword, “Bad alien doggy, go home!” chuckling more and raising his voice towards the tech trailer, “Hey can you guys make it do tricks?”
The beast bounds to the left and leaps, vicious fangs sink into Bob’s arm! He shrieks and drops the sword.
“Holy Fuck!” Johnathan scrambles away, the ‘Dread Wolf’ hologram failing to follow his green spandex form.
Kurt doesn’t hesitate to dive for the fallen blade and awkwardly jam it into the head of the monster still trying to take off Bob’s arm! Green blood mixes with red on the sidewalk.
“Over there!” Jen is pointing to a few more Model threes dashing out from an alley barely a few car lengths away.
“Time to run Bob!”
However the injured man is whimpering on his knees, staring at the few strips of flesh leaving his wrist and hand to dangle from his forearm.
“Bob!” Kurt looks around, “Johnny?!”
The real Antithesis split to surround them before they can even start to escape. Screams from the direction of the crew trailers prelude distant alarms and incursion sirens. It's happening, the second incursion to hit America has begun, and it's growling in their face.
“Kurt!”
One of the model threes leaps forward, going for his throat! He barely raises the sword in time to catch it at an angle enough to deflect it to the side. The dead weight yanks the heavy prop blade from his hands.
Bob cries out and scrambles away, clumsily starting to run only to be tackled to the ground. Alien teeth begin to tear into the man’s spine.
Jen yelps and leaps behind Kurt's back as one of the stalking dogs makes a testing bite at her legs.
Kurt dashes while pulling live rounds from the belt and dumping the blanks. He kicks the monster to the side with everything he can muster.
The cylinder snaps shut on his “Prop” revolver. A deafening blast rings out as a target round fires into the plant’s skull at point blank and splatters the contents across the pavement.
Behind him, a cry of fear and pain!
Claw marks on pale skin beneath a tattered blouse, once more Kurt stands before Jen in ruined clothes.
Four more shots empty into the alien culprit, the canine collapses to the ground.
“No no no no no! Jen!”
Before he can reach her side the last model three in the area bounds forward. Muscle memory guide’s his aim to fire the last round into its face but the creature doesn’t fall.
Kurt gets hit by a punching bag’s worth of dead weight. Not quite dead, the monster snaps at his face. He barely finds the knife strapped to his belt and drives into the alien’s eye, finally making it stay still.
“Jenny!”
“Still alive cowboy,” she hisses, touching her side, “I don’t know how bad this is.”
He searches their surroundings, the malfunctioning hologram tech finally reveals a hint of the mayhem surrounding them. People run screaming from running model threes as countless model ones flock around the real Paris Casino’s tower. There are bodies everywhere, some already getting collected by the scavenging plants.
An explosion shakes the ground as one of the high-rise hotels comes crashing down. Dust spreads into the street like a shockwave.
“We need to move now!” Carefully picking up Jen he makes for the only viable shelter nearby, the fake hot air balloon perpetually lit up with neon lights and rotating hologram ads.
The opposite side of the street has the famous Bellagio fountain, newly updated to have several stories of fountaining pipes. Further away is the Paris Casino itself but flashes of gunfire prove it’s hardly safe.
Kurt slowly places her in a raised planter bed and hops in beside her. As long as they keep low, anything on the street won’t see them and hopefully the neon balloon blocks the view from the sky.
“This isn’t good Kurt.” Jen’s side is seeping blood from three claw marks.
Panic finally starts to rear its head as time begins to catch up to Kurt’s fight or flight mindset.
“Shit, just keep pressure on it!” With nothing better in mind, he grabs her phone from her work bag still slung around her hip.
She weakly laughs, “I don’t think 911 has time for this.”
“I’m calling your son.”
“Ah, that’s better.” She just smiles and leans back on the cement planter wall. “He’s all smart and stuff.”
Kurt laughs but can’t help noticing her odd tone.
The line picks up after just one ring, “Mom! Mom, where are you? I can hear the sirens from here. Theres a fucking crater in the side of the Luxor pryamid!”
“Walt it’s me.”
“Kurt?! Where the fuck is mom?!”
“Right here with me,” Kurt’s heart clenches as he hears Walt breathe in relief, “She’s not good Walt. There's three gashes on her side, we’re hiding on the main strip.”
A moment passes with no response. Time enough for Kurt to hear a woman screaming extremely close. Popping his head up, a younger redhead gal is clumsily running down the casino steps in a dress not made for an alien invasion.
One of the tiger variety model threes stalks into view above.
“Kurt! You there Kurt?!” Walt’s voice from the phone.
Tossing the phone to Jen, he checks the gun is loaded and pops up from their hiding spot.
“Over here!”
The woman immediately turns toward them, sprinting with heels in hand. The plant tiger realizes its prey found help and bounds forward.
Steadying his arms on the planter, Kurt empties the cylinder at the creature. It didn't stop but it definitely stumbled and slowed. He reloads as the redhead leaps into the planter, barely missing Jen. Taking aim again at the massive tiger only fifteen or twenty feet away, six more shots ring out. The alien finally collapses just before their hiding spot.
The gun shots stirred up the birds perched on the eifel tower.
“It’s gonna be okay baby.” Jen is attempting to sooth her son.
Miss redhead pipes up between heavy breaths, “Oh fuck lady, you are not okay!”
Kurt shoots her a look from where he's crouching.
She just smiles, “Thanks for the save Mr. Cowboy! I’m Lizzy!”
“Howdy?” his brain isn’t in friendly introduction mode.
Lizzy’s eyes widen in recognition, “You’re fucking Outlaw!”
“Give the phone back to Kurt Mom!”
She does so. Kurt barely says, “I’m here.”
Walt cuts him off, “Does she have her work bag?”
“Yes.” The bookbag sized satchel is still at her side.
“She should have wipes and sewing needles in there! Clear away the blood and get it closed as best you can!”
“I don’t know how to sew Walt!”
“Pass it here!” Liz crawls over, “I’m a paramedic.”
“Thank fuck!” Kurt hands the phone over and checks over the planter wall.
Nothing on the ground near them but a dozen of the birds are circling the balloon above them. He checks his bandolier only to find four bullets left. He reaches for his knife only to remember he left it in a model three’s head.
“Relax kid, I’m stitching her up nice and tight.”
“I’m in college!”
“Me too!” She pats Jens face and snaps her fingers to bring her into focus, “Hey, is your son cute?”
“Of Course he is, he’s mine!” Jen still has the coherency to look offended. That’s good.
Walt yells over the phone, “You said you were a paramedic!”
That’s not so good, but she seems to be stitching just fine.
“Almost, okay, I’m almost a paramedic.” She digs some tape out of the bag and starts layering it over the stitches.
Kurt grins, if Walt gets a girlfriend out of this, it might actually be worth it in Jen’s eyes.
Back to the birds… He loads the last rounds and starts looking for a better hiding place in running distance.
System Initialized!
A woman’s voice suddenly rings in Kurt’s head. Bringing with it a wave of pressure and pain that fills his vision with more spots than staring at the sun.
Howdy Partner! Through your actions you have proven yourself worthy of becoming one of the Vanguard, a hero of humanity. I’m Anny. I’m here to help you to uplift humanity so that you may defend your home world from them dastardly plant monsters!
Saddle up, Konrad Oakley, and become a protector of the weak!
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