The Duelist

Tuesday, 1st of March, 199 A.C, 05:08

“A little bit of hope goes a long way.” - Kel Carver, host of Rubble Radio

The Sleet was a nice little handgun. Simple and well-crafted, it would have been right at home in Frontier, if not for the gobsmacking price tag it carried as a signature MMC product. The gold decals didn’t help either, I was sure.

I wondered where the Pugilist had picked it up. He wasn’t exactly a gun lover. Was that just how it was for wealthy folks? Able to toss around money on a whim?

Whatever the case, I was happy to have it. I took out a spare magazine and fed it in with a gratifying click. A quick pull of the slide and I was ready to go.

Other than that little leak a few minutes ago, things were looking up back here. Just a couple of stragglers that were getting timid at the promise of the morning sun. An hour or two prior I would have given in to the part of my mind that was hollering at me to make an example of the last few Psychons, but the Aegis had… well, she’d knocked a bit of sense into me.

Instead, I ran to the wall, taking a few pot shots as I went. I scaled up the left side of the bisected barrier, where the Deadeye and Scout were taking aim at the big ol’ boss.

The Scout acknowledged my presence. “All good back there?”

“Aces,” I replied. “The Surgeon is… really kinda terrifying cutting those Psychons to ribbons, actually.”

The Deadeye chuckled, her eye never leaving her rifle’s scope. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. Listen, you think you could cover us so we can focus on shooting this thing without worrying about Psychons jumping on our ass?”

I looked at the gun in my hand. I had initially come up here to help with the ranged support, but. Well, now I was up here I figured it was a pretty silly idea. That monster was a bit outside this piece’s effective range, wasn’t it?

“Can do,” I said. It wasn’t as glamorous a job as taking down the beast, but I supposed it was necessary all the same.

It was light work, enough for my gaze to wander to the horizon between shots. Light clouds were beginning to cover the almost-breaking sun.

***

The Berserker

Dark mist flicked off my blade as I danced away from the foreleg crashing down now that it was too damaged to hold weight and the entire monster tipped with it demolishing one wall of a ruin as it fell but there was no time for me to sit around I had to focus on my breathing because I had to keep my wits about me even with this power making all my nerves SCREAM at me but—

I caught Cath’s gaze as I hurried towards the ruined building. She had turned around at the sound of the wall coming down, and gave me a brief nod before returning to a fighting stance. She was favoring her left arm, since her right was covered in acid burns and bite wounds.

That was right I had to maintain control for her too and the other volunteers out here I had to be a threat to the enemy not my friends so I leapt up the wall launching off of jagged bits of rubble until I was perched above the monstrosity flailing around unable to keep its balance which meant I couldn’t stay where I was out of fear of it knocking over the wall so I pushed off and dove towards its neck but that bow arm came swinging and almost CRUSHED my head but I raised my shield just in time and its energy field crackled against the impact and I tumbled and rolled feeling like it was a miracle my arm wasn’t broken but I had given myself an opening so I rushed forward only slipping on the loose rubble a little and brought my sword down on the thing’s NECK but my falchion only got a few inches in and I didn’t have time for another strike with the monster’s other arm coming in so I pulled back before it PULVERIZED me because I realized I wouldn’t be able to—

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I wouldn’t be able to do this alone. Where was the Pugilist? I hid behind my shield and scanned the area. There. On the opposite wall, wiping the blood off of his face. His shockwaves were more useful for bashing than severing, but.

I had an idea. I held out my sword, then made a punching motion down onto it with my other hand. The Pugilist tilted his head, then nodded and lowered his Veil over his eyes.

I hoped he would be able to aim without his eyes I mean I knew he had some way of figuring out where things were but would he really have the precision to pull this one off all things considered although I guessed that I didn’t have time to worry about it considering that bow arm was coming back around so I jumped it this time and it swiped under me like an axehead that I landed right on top of and almost lost my balance but I PLUNGED my sword in just in time to stop my momentum and then I sprinted down its arm but I wasn’t fast enough and it tried to toss me off but fortunately for me that was just the plan so I adjusted my footing and LAUNCHED off using the swinging arm as an assist that I would only have one shot at but as the wind whipped by me I knew I had judged the angle right and I was coming right down on target and I brought up my sword hoping the Pugilist would fill his side of things and sure enough his shadow passed over me and right as I started the downswing my arm jerked down from an UNNATURAL POWER almost yanking my arm OUT OF ITS SOCKET as my blade made contact in a swift arc and it was clear it was going RIGHT THROUGH THE THING’S NECK when the tip struck the ground and kept going slicing straight through the concrete floor and back around in a near complete rotation as I spun with it and hit the ground hard my left shoulder blade CRACKED and my arm went limp as pain CONSUMED me and—

The beast’s head, bigger than my whole body, rolled to a stop next to me, somehow still screaming without any lungs to use for air. I dropped my sword and wrapped my one usable arm over my ears. The sound pierced straight through my skull. It felt like my eardrums were about to burst.

The horrible noise stopped suddenly as a bullet ran through it. Then another. And a third, fourth, and fifth. The Deadeye, I assumed, shooting rounds after round until the Psychon began to dissipate, its regeneration halted.

The monster left a massive cloud of black mist in its wake. I coughed as it tried to worm its way into my lungs, but, low to the ground as I was, it soon left for higher altitudes.

When the last of it was gone, the Pugilist wobbled towards me. He left a trail of blood in his wake and collapsed a foot or two to my left. His Veil-induced wounds had closed, but he must have lost a good liter or so of blood during the fight.

Neither of us said anything. It was a miracle he hadn’t already passed out, and now that the adrenaline was finally leaving my body I wasn’t in a much better position.

A few minutes passed before our honor guard made their way tepidly into the building. Miraculously, they had all survived, although some of them were in almost as bad shape as the Pugilist and I.

As Cath walked over, she noticed something on the ground and brought it to me. It was a piece of the Psychon that had been left behind. That wasn’t unusual in of itself — little trophies showed up all the time, like the horn of that Taurus I had fought in the restaurant all those months ago. What *was* strange was the size of this particular trophy.

It was the Psychon’s bow, shrunk down to a size that was just about usable for a person and shimmering with that weird dark energy.

“For a job well done,” Cath said.

It felt wrong in my hands. “I think I know someone who would love this as a gift,” I heard myself saying.

Cath went to help me up, but hesitated. “Would you like a hand?” she asked.

I somehow managed a faint smile. “Yes, please. I think I’m too tired for my Veil to get in the way anyhow.”

We leaned on each other for support, each with a bad arm hanging to the side. The others carried the Pugilist, who had finally given in to the hypotension.

There were no Psychons to attack us as we hobbled back to the wall. I started to shiver as my body remembered how cold it really was. The warmth of the sun at my back was weak, hidden as it was behind gray clouds.

Scattered cheers went up among the collection of volunteers that had gathered by the hole in the wall. I heard crying mixed in with the shouts of elation.

We had reached the abandoned parking lot when a snowflake landed on my shoulder. A light dusting began, speckling our clothes with dots of white. It felt to me that the sky was ushering in the new year in its own way — by covering the old.