“This is MY house, and I will not have that wastrel sitting in his room playing video games all day every day.” The elder MacGregor stood on the landing shouting at his wife in the middle of the foyer below. Both had faces as red as their hair.
“He is YOUR son, and by god he’s the spittin’ image of ye in both face and temperament,” Faith shouted right back up at him, arms crossed and one foot tapping on the floor. “Not to mention that this is his home too, by right of birth and it’ll be his by right of death if’n you don’t look out.”
Beside her, Warren sat in an electric wheelchair festooned with sensors and packs of medicinal gels and liquids. It was barely different from the hospital bed he’d been in, just more mobile. If he’d been able, he’d have burrowed deeper into the mattress but settled for blank faced stoicism in the face of his father’s tirade.
“Bah!” Warren’s father had no rational response to his wife, so he threw up his hands and stormed off to his study. Warren had no doubts that several hundred thousand worth of ancient liquor would be missing from the bottles in that room come morning.
“Wally dear, we’ve left your room as close to how you left it as possible,” Faith knelt down beside her son so she could speak quietly to him. “An absolute mess.”
If it were possible for Warren’s face to go any redder it would have. She only used his childhood nickname when making a very sharp point, knowing the embarrassment would twist the knife that much more.
“But for now I have had our people tidy up one side so that we could install the medical equipment and charging station for your bed.” She paused, looking confused. “Chair. Um, thing. This,” she ran her hand along the raised side of the conveyance, clearly as confused about its identity as it was. “We have also retained the services of a small team of nurses. They will be assisting with cleaning and changing your bedding and helping you bathe yourself. They are waiting in your room to meet you. Off you go now, I have to see to your father.”
Knowing that little phrase will likely double the value of the consumed alcohol, Warren directed his mobility aid to his room, thanking his lucky stars - and not for the first time - that it was both on the ground floor and sound proofed. “Seeing to” had several meanings, none of them Warren wanted to think about in conjunction with his parents.
As the door opened, Warren found his new retinue stood waiting for him in a neat row with immaculately pressed uniforms. The four men, in their early twenties by Warren’s estimation, waited impassively with one fist over their hearts and bowed as he entered the room. When his mother had said nurses, he’d been both alarmed and excited, momentarily imagining a scenario from an adult film. Now he felt both relief and regret. “Gentlemen, thank you for your service. I have nothing for you at the moment, and would like to rest.”
All four bowed again, and three left the room immediately. The one who remained moved over to where Warren’s bed used to sit, now a gleaming white docking station for his conveyance. When he’d checked out of the hospital not an hour previously they had gone over the very simple controls for the device. It was top of the line and did almost everything for itself but did need some user intervention on first install. The nurse transferred the majority of the bags and bottles from the chair to the dock and removed the now unneeded extra hoses and tubes. He guided the wheels home and pressed a button to let it know it was in position.
“You are all set, master MacGregor,” the nurse said, sounding much like a British butler. “If that will be all, I will retire to my station in the next room. The bed has both manual and automatic paging functions should you need me.”
“Thank you. I mean it. But, before you leave, what is your name?” Warren asked.
The nurse blinked in surprise. Apparently being treated like a human being was a new experience. “George, master MacGregor. And you are quite welcome.”
“Then, thank you again, George. Please, call me Warren. Save the formality for when my da is around.”
George bowed once more and left the room. Silence settled around Warren as he looked about. Ghosts of his childhood filled the bedroom that could easily encompass a small apartment. He felt simultaneously claustrophobic and agoraphobic, alone and crowded. Rather than deal with these thoughts and feelings, Warren checked his connection to the house network and dove into The Age of Steam and Sorcery.
Instead of the freedom of movement Warren usually enjoyed upon login, Warren found himself clamped to a vertical metal plate. “Hey, what’s this about?” he shouted.
Cheers and jeers came from all around. He tried to look left and right but his head was held in some sort of vice. He could see straight in front, where Pham’s unconscious body was similarly suspended, the plate attached to a shackle on the roof via a pair of chains running from eyebolts on the corners of the plate. The plate the elf was pinned to had clamps at the ankles and wrists, knees and elbows. There was a metal guard over the torso, like the front of a breastplate, with a glowing gem set in the centre. His head was framed by a metallic halo of sorts that prevented movement but left the face free. In Warren’s peripheral vision he could just make out others in the same situation lining the walls in shallow alcoves. Light crystals shone brightly between each alcove, bracketing and illuminating a track in the roof that the shackles that held the plates could run along. They were clearly in some sort of assembly line, but what was going to be assembled was anybody’s guess.
“So you decided to join us, did you?” Warren could head Dennis’ voice from somewhere to his left. “We can log on or off, but anyone who respawns ends up right back here on these slabs. We’re screwed!”
A chorus of agreement followed the Skald’s words. Warren guessed that roughly half the guild were logged in at the moment, judging by how many voices he could hear. He tested the clamps at his wrists and feet, finding himself firmly bolted down. He tried swinging to and fro but the chest plate prevented any movement at all. Only the ever present sensation of metal behind him and the pain of the clamps prevented a panic induced flashback. “It’s ok,” he told himself. “You can feel. You can move. You’re trapped, but not in your own body.”
A jerk and a sharp intake of breath grabbed Warren’s attention. Pham’s eyes were open darting everywhere. “Gorram it. We’re still stuck. Oh. Hey. You’re here.” Pham wiggled his fingers at Warren. “After you logged out last night we got nabbed by the Po-po and stuck in wish dot com carbonite jail. Most everyone logged after figuring out there’s no way out of these things.”
For some reason, Pham’s inane blathering in the face of danger calmed Warren’s fraying nerves. “What do you mean, po-po? There’s no police in a fantasy dungeon.”
Pham flicked his eyes left several times. It looked like he was trying to indicate with his head as well, but couldn’t move it. “There’s two big ass robots just inside the door. They’ve got sleep-rays or something. Everyone else woke up right away, you’re the only one who didn’t. So, Tina tried logging out and back in, that’s how we found out there’s no actual log out in here. Your body just goes limp.”
Warren thought for a moment. “Which one is Tina again?”
“Tall, angry, has a thing for Chad?”
“Oh, right. The new girl. This is her first run with our guild. How do you know her so well already?” Warren would have slapped himself in the forehead if he could. He’d always prided himself on his ability to remember names and faces.
“Oh, we’ve all had plenty of time to get to know each other,” Pham rolled his eyes. “Only you and Chad logged and stayed out.”
“Look, I had a thing in the real world that wouldn’t wait,” Warren grumbled. “So, smarty pants, any idea how to get out?”
“If I did, do you think I’d be here waiting for Leia to get me out?”
“Point,” Warren conceded. “Anybody else got any bright ideas?” he added, much louder.
“I’ve got the buns trying to gnaw the restraints, but they’re not doing much,” came the shout from far to Warren’s left. “They’re much better at running than chewing.”
“Ok, thanks Tim. Keep at it just in case. Anyone else?”
“Hey brah, I’m stuck!” Chad’s voice drifted from the right. “These chesty things are a total bummer. I can’t even flex in them.”
“Your contributions have been taken onboard,” Pham called out. Much quieter Warren heard him whisper, “and they’ll be jettisoned as soon as we leave harbor.”
“Thanks Chad,” Warren called back to his cousin. “Most of us are still logged out, I think. People don’t get to play until after dinner and it’s only just gone half three. See if you can muscle through though.” He thought for a moment. “Actually, Pham, that raises the question. How are you logged in so soon? Don’t you have school?”
“Got sent home for throwing up at lunch,” Pham looked off into the distance, evasively. “Don’t YOU have school?”
“Just got home from the hospital after a car crash,” Warren replied. “I don’t have to go to school yet.”
Pham’s brow creased. “I don’t know if I’m jealous or not. How bad a car crash? And have you been playing video games from a hospital bed this whole time?”
“Broke my back so bad I only just got use of my hands yesterday,” Warren waggled his hands in their restraints. “And yes. When you’re in a full body cast they let you do whatever you want.”
“Dayum. That’s cray-cray. Still not sure if I’m jealous or not though. I’d almost trade walking for unlimited gaming time.”
“It’s really not worth it.” Warren strained against the clamps again, despite it having done nothing the last ten times. Maybe the eleventh time will be the charm.
It was not.
“If you’re done with your mother’s meeting over there,” a panicked female voice cut over their conversation. Warren recognised Tina’s voice from their conversation the day before. “We have a situation.”
“What kind of situation are we talking about?” Warren shouted.
“The oh god we’re all going to die kind! The goo things are coming through the door!”
Chaos exploded. Shouts and weird noises echoed through the room. The chains that held the slabs up clanked and pinged.
“I know!” A voice came over the cacophony. “I could cast fireball! That might melt the metal!”
“No!” Everyone shouted back.
“Idiot,” Pham added. “That’ll melt us too!”
“Then what do we do?” the spirit summoner wailed. “We tried, but Twitch and Jasper can’t get through the metal. I don’t want to die!”
“Nobody wants to die,” Warren tried to be the voice of reason. “And if we all work together nobody will.”
Something in his delivery arrested the panic. They all stopped to listen.
“First, I know Pham has a cooked chicken in one of his pockets.”
“Hey!”
“Am I wrong?”
“No, but you don’t need to tell everyone,” Pham sulked.
“Roast chicken is incredibly greasy,” Warren continued. “If you send one of your rabbits over here to grab it, you can smear the grease on everyone’s wrists and at least some of us will be able to get our hands free.”
“That’s… actually a really good idea,” Pham admitted. “I still protest the use of my food though. You’re going to owe me a new chicken.”
The smaller of the two ghostly rabbits ran up Pham’s overalls, sniffing intently. He scrabbled at one of the pouches on the belt Pham kept slung over his shoulder until it popped open and a roast leg of chicken fell to the floor. “Good boy Jasper,” the mage encouraged. “Now grab it and bring it here. Rub the chicken on my hands.”
“Shouldn't someone useful go first?” complained the fire mage. “Like someone who can melt the clamps off instead of having to dislocate your wrist to pull it through them?”
“My bunny, I go first,” was all the response he got.
Not that it took long. In a few minutes everyone had a greasy wrist and was trying to get free. “This isn’t working!” the fire mage shouted. “I still can’t get my arm free, the elbow strap stops you pulling the wrist out!”
“We’re out of time! It’s through!” The female voice called again. “The security things are fighting the goo, but I don’t think ray guns do much to jelly monsters!”
“Woah, what’s happening?” Dennis shouted, as the clanging of chains took on a new note. “Where’s it taking me?”
“Brah, you’re moving!” Chad exclaimed. “How’d you do that?”
From the far right end of the room, Warren heard sounds of machines spooling up and fires igniting. “Talk to me people, what’s going on?”
Nobody had a chance to respond before the rest of the plates whirred to life. One by one they slid into the centre of the room then twisted ninety degrees to face the back. Two arms slid from the walls as each plate drew level with them, laid it back so the prisoner was facing the roof. Four more arms extruded from the roof to grip the corners of the plate and carry it forward. Each movement jolted Warren against the restraints and he bucked wildly in an attempt to dislodge himself. From overhead he could hear the sounds of combat as the globlins smashed themselves against the security bots, the walls, the plates that came behind him and more. He could hear Tina roaring in pain as she ended up as collateral damage in their fight. From below his feet he could hear shouts as those that preceded him had their plates fed into rails and whisked off.
Warren sucked in a breath of hot dry air as his own plate accelerated upon reaching the start of the rails. The room they had been in had been a box for containing intruders from what he could see, and now that they had triggered some sort of contingency his team were being fed into a massive cylindrical factory. Relief at being far from the globlins warred with the fear of the unknown process they were headed into with zero control.
Over the rails an arch with three coloured light gems appeared at the edge of Warren’s vision. The centre one glowed golden but as each plate approached it would dim and either a blue gem on the left or a red gem on the right would illuminate. Mostly they were blue, and some sort of track switching device would activate to send the plate off to the left. They passed into a tunnel that shrouded the track and he could not see where it let out.
Occasionally the red would flick on and the passenger on these plates would drop from sight. Due to the angle, Warren couldn’t see who it was that was sent off to the right, but as their screams cut off quickly he assumed they were sent to respawn in some horrible manner.
When Warren’s turn came the centre gem remained golden. In fact, it brightened slightly as he passed under the arch. He’d been apprehensive before, but held onto hope that either he or one of his crew would find a solution before anything too bad happened.
That hope had begun to fade as his plate accelerated. The arches passed faster and faster until their golden glow became a flash as the arch passed. A roiling tension in Warren’s gut began to form as the flashes increased in intensity with every passing second. He could no longer see any other plates or rails, just feel the rushing hot air whipping past, forcing itself into his nostrils and bringing with it the reek of hot metal and oil.
An exceptionally bright flash left twinkling afterimages in Warren’s eyes, blinding him momentarily and triggering a ghost of a memory. Glass fragments floating through the air, flickering like stars and throwing disco ball reflections across his face.
A crashing sound brought him back, a pair of robotic arms had caught up to his plate and were now clamped to the sides. The ends of the arms cycled through a series of wicked looking tools as they were each checked for function.
Another blinding flash, and this one accompanied with a spike of pain. The crunch of a car door folding inwards, crushing his arm. The memory faded, but the pain didn’t. Craning his neck, Warren could see the mechanincal arm had peeled his upper arm open and was replacing his bones with metal.
He screamed in agony, but the machine took no notice.
Another flash. Another memory. Warren felt his legs snapping as the wheel hubs punched into the footwell. His eyes cleared to see the mechanical arms working on his lower limbs, blood coating their tools. He couldn’t see what they were doing, but he could see that his arm had been stapled back together, blood leaking between the rough cuts.
Stolen novel; please report.
More screams tore loose from his lips, but he couldn’t move. Just as helpless as he had been during the crash. Rage flared in his chest, a burning desire to destroy all the hurt him. He strained against the clamps but all he achieved was popping a staple.
Flash. He was back in the car again, his head snapping to the left. He felt his vertebrae popping and a heavy weight smacking into the back of his head. As his vision narrowed to a point, he saw Chad, phone in hand, pressing something on the screen. That moment froze in his mind, staying with him as he found himself back on the plate, his spine on fire as something worked underneath him. The incandescent wrath met the pain and pushed back. Chad hadn’t been making a call, they’d been talking when the truck hit them.
The brightest flash of all drove the image from his mind. The spectre of the steering wheel impacting his chest just before he lost consciousness completely became an industrial arm pulling away with his ribcage, and a breastplate filled with clockwork lower in its place. There was no way Warren would have kept any remnant of lucidity without the pure unadulterated rage forcing the agony out of his head. He wanted to smash everything, the plate he was bound to, the arms that had torn him apart, the factory that they had found themselves in.
The clamps gave out a metallic whine and began to flex. Warren threw all of his mind and weight against them and with a snap the right hand binding flew off into the dark. The upper arm binding had been removed to allow the mechanical arms to pursue their grisly work, so now his whole right arm was free. He reached up and started feeling around the clamp holding his head. His questing fingers found a wingnut that came loose with a twist. With his head and an arm free he was now able to reach across his body and heave at the bolt that held his upper left arm. Strength he’d never felt before crushed the metal strap and he tossed it after the one that had held his right hand. The left hand strap soon followed.
Warren sat up, finding the chest straps gone for the same reason that his upper right arm one had. He ran his hands over his now metal chest, getting the tip of his finger pinched as he poked it into the clockwork. His whole body was on fire, agony akin to what that bastard had inflicted on him in the hospital. This time he had something he could do about it and opened his inventory, the void opening in front of him to show his possessions. He pulled out a red vial and quickly laid back as another golden arch swept over him, forcing the inventory interface to close. He noted that they were slowing as he chugged the contents of the vial, and no longer emitting the same blinding flashes.
He reopened his inventory and pulled out a mace. His katana had gone missing some time after his passing out, probably still down in the security room. For now, a blunt object met his needs better anyway. He proceeded to perform percussive maintenance on the mechanical arms still attached to the plate he was sitting on. He belted the robots into unrecognisable scrap, then hammered their clamps until they fell off into the space below. Every blow soothed his mind, just as the health potion he’d drunk mended his body.
The plate slid to a stop in what looked like a lab that Victor Frankenstein would have imagined had he had access to modern psychedelics. It was part science fiction laboratory, part necromancer’s shrine, and all under attack.
The globlin goo had reached the lab before him and was fighting and suborning the androids working there. The androids in the lab were smooth, clean and shining machines of white ceramic and brass. They weren’t designed for combat, but they were giving it their all. Their skins were resistant to the globlin’s corrosive slime and the restricted environment prevented the globlin forming large conglomerations and smashing them with pure brute force and ignorance.
The melee rocked back and forth as Warren clambered off the plate, not even checking what the machines had done to his lower body. The important part was, they needed a right good kicking and he still had legs. He booted the nearest globlin across the room to splash across the wall. An android tried to punch him, he grabbed its fist and used it to pull the machine into a headbutt that shattered the thing’s face. It fell backwards so Warren grabbed it by the foot and used it to batter globlins and lab equipment alike until the android fell apart.
Lacking a better option, he went back to the plate and picked up his dropped mace and leapt back into the fray. He didn’t care that he was fighting both sides, this was a target rich environment. It didn’t matter that he was surrounded, that just meant he could swing in any direction and be assured of hitting an enemy. Globlins splashed and androids smashed. Sometimes he drove his mace into a suborned android and it did both.
Eventually, very eventually, Warren’s anger cooled a bit and he realised he was in a stalemate. New lab androids were dropping in from the roof at one end of the laboratory and fresh globlin was oozing in from the other. Smashing the equipment did nothing to affect the outcome of the fight. Unless he could stem the tide of goo, or help it reach its destination, this was a no-win scenario. He took a step back, only fighting anything that approached him and reassessed the situation.
With clearer eyes, he could see that there were multiple plates now at docking stations like the one his had arrived at. The occupants, unlike him, were still bound and helpless and leaking blood from the modifications inflicted on them. Their eyes darted around wildly, or were rolled into the back of their heads in insensibility. One plate was empty, the occupant sent for respawn before the process finished.
Warren set about freeing the captives, noticing that without his input the fight was slightly in the globlin’s favour. The goo could destroy an android, but sometimes managed to get into its inner workings and puppeteer one. He’d noticed it before but hadn’t thought about it. It was kinda like zombies versus humans, in that regard. A turned android would then use its hard shell to crack the shells of other androids, making it easier for other globlins to get in. He pulled the last strap away from the captive he was working to free, who turned out to be Tina, handed her a health potion and set about smashing the turned androids to restore the balance.
By the time he had returned, skin reddening where the goo had splashed on him, Tina had freed the rest of the captives. Pham, Chad, Tina and Dennis had made it through the process with varying levels of trauma. Pham looked entirely unscathed, Chad seemed haunted by memories he’d never forget. They were all clustered at the android end of the lab, in an area mostly untouched by the fight. The androids left them alone unless they got in the way, so they stayed by the walls.
“These things need to pay for what they’ve done to us,” Warren growled, “but I don’t think letting the globlins win will be good for us either. Any ideas?”
“It’s obviously after something,” Pham said, pointing at the wall at the end of the lab. “We could take it ourselves.”
“I like the sound of that,” Chad croaked out.
“Flexseal could stop that,” Dennis pointed at the hole in the far wall where the slimy creature was getting in.
Pham flipped him the forks. “Do you HAVE any Fleseal?”
“Well, yes,” Dennis opened his inventory and reached into it. He pulled out his hand with the middle finger extended. “But actually no.”
Warren let them bicker and stomped over to the wall to see what the lab droids were protecting. The wall was a thick glassy material, the same colour and sheen as the other walls so it wasn’t obvious until you were up close. Behind it, in the dark, figures floated. Suddenly, lights on the other side snapped on, revealing three cylinders, capped top and bottom with brass. Warren stepped back and raised his mace, expecting an attack.
“Uh, sorry.” Pham looked guiltily over at Warren. His hand was on a switch on the wall beside the glass. “I just wanted to know what it did.”
“You’re lucky,” Warren grunted. “We’re all a bit jumpy. It doesn’t help that you got here without a mark on you.”
Pham pulled out the core he used to shut down the security mechs so long ago. “This was in my pocket. I think it thought I was already one of them?”
Warren huffed and turned back to the cylinders. Two were empty, in the middle one floated a body in what looked to be power armour of some sort. The liquid in the cylinder was tinted slightly green, but it was clear enough to see that there was a crown on the figure’s head with wires that led to the top cap. The figure also appeared to be long dead. The lack of skin on the face was a bit of a giveaway.
Shouts and cries of pain from behind him distracted Warren as the remaining survivors joined in the fight on the androids side. The health potions everyone had downed helped get them back in the fight quickly, but there were wounds that wouldn’t heal without therapy. Warren touched his metal chest again, then ran his fingers down the row of staples on his bicep. He pulled back a fist and punched the glass. Other than hurting his hand it had no effect. He punched the glass again anyway. The pain helped keep the flame alight in his chest, and he had no interest in forgiving the master of the machines, no matter how dead he was.
“Not to interrupt what is clearly an important moment for you,” Pham cleared his throat before continuing, “but there’s another switch here. You want I should flip it?”
Warren nodded mutely.
The glass slid up into the ceiling smoothly, silently. On the other side of the cylinders a throne descended from the roof on a platform suspended by cables at the corners. Once it touched down, the cylinders slid up into the roof as well, spilling green liquid onto the floor where it was quickly sucked away into unobtrusive vents. The dead body in its power armour settled backwards into the throne, the crown still on its head and the wires still attached to the roof.
Several things happened in short succession. First, Warren shot forward, punching the corpse in the face and tearing the crown from its head. The instant the crown was no longer in contact with the dead guy’s skull, the androids dropped like marionettes with their strings cut. Without the androids to hold it back, the globlin surged forward in a wave, splashing against the throne and pouring into the neck of the corpse’s armour.
“What did you just do?” Dennis demanded, his eyes wide in horror.
Warren quickly stashed the crown in his inventory and looked around. There was no globlin left, just smashed lab equipment and broken androids. It was eerily silent. The seconds ticked by, but nothing happened. “I think we beat the dungeon?”
“Did we though?” Pham asked. “Normally there’s a teleport to the entrance or something. This is just… nothing.”
“I, for one, think we should smash the place, just to be certain,” Tina hefted her weapon.
Warren rolled his shoulders, feeling the new sensation. “Agreed. I don’t know what that thing did to us, or even if it’ll stay after respawn, but nobody should have to go through that. Pham, any ideas?”
“One or two,” Pham answered, a metallic sphere in each hand. “I saw a number of furnaces and pressure vessels on the way up. A little bit of alchemy in the right place and we can bury this place, like the Pharos of old.”
“Do it.”
“Nnnoooo,” a raspy whisper echoed through the room. “Yoouuu muussst nooottt.”
As one, the travellers turned to see the corpse on the throne standing up. The globlin goo had flowed up over the skull, cleaning it and revealing its crystalline nature. Cracks radiated from where Warren’s fist had struck it, spiderwebbing the face. The goo slowly turned milky, hiding the bone and revealing a face. It was not a kind face, far too angular and sharp. It had an expression that suggested that it owned the world and merely permitted you to exist in it under sufferance. Every part of the face was purest white, the only colour was the black of the pupils and an outline of the sclera.
As they watched, the figure de-aged. The armour, once a muted brown, was now returning to a burnished bronze. The bald head sprouted hair, each strand white as the driven snow. It stood tall and held out a hand with fingers splayed. “This domain is now mine. Worship me, or die.”
“Worship this,” Warren grabbed his crotch.
The thing’s eyes turned scarlet, glowing with power. “You dare defy me?”
A mace flew through the air, stopping just before hitting the perfectly white skin the globlin goo had become. Warren looked down at his hand, he hadn’t even intended to throw the weapon, but the anger in his chest had moved his arm for him.
The mace floated in the air, turning end for end gently. It split, then split again, spectral red copies floating alongside the original and fanning out. With a twitch of a hand they shot towards the travellers.
“Crap, it’s got magic!” Pham shouted, diving to the side. One of the maces grazed his shoulder as he threw himself behind a docking station.
Tina picked up the remains of an android and used its chestplate as a shield. The red projectile shattered the android’s chest, but she threw it to the side and grabbed another one from the ground. There were plenty to use after all.
Chad kicked a stool up into the path of the one coming for him, knocking it aside enough that it missed as he leaned to the side. “Brah, how cool was that?”
Dennis was the only one to feel the pain of the thing’s attack. Unable to get a wepon or shield up in time, the red ghost mace cracked straight into his sternum. The impact threw him on his ass and he slid across the floor to pile up against the far wall in a pile of wrecked android bodies. His pained groans broadcast the fact that he wasn’t dead yet, but nor was he in any shape to fight any time soon. He struggled up onto one elbow and spat a curse word that the system turned into a small explosion sound. He grinned wanly at the effect.
The white thing spoke a sentence of power that sounded like someone gargling in latin played backwards and the back wall that Dennis was leaning against peeled open and he fell backwards as the whole room tilted to a forty-five degree angle. Pham fetched up against the plate dock behind him, Chad grabbed onto a desk, and then onto Tina as she shot past him.
Warren leaned forward like Michael Jackson checking on Annie, seeming to stay in place by sheer force of rage. He glared the white thing in the eyes, refusing to look away. The soles of his feet had joined the chorus of agony, whatever the machines had done to his legs were keeping him in place. “I refuse to bow to you.”
Pham gingerly tossed something at the white thing. It’s eyes flickered briefly, assesing the trajectory and dismissing it. “Pathetic,” it sneered. “You’re not worth killing, worm. At least your compatriot knows how to die on his feet.” The thing placed its palms together, flat in front of its chest. The hands then cupped and as it drew them apart Warren could see a ball of the most intense white power he’d ever witnessed. The ball grew as the things hands pulled further apart until it was the size of a basketball. It hurt to look at and the brightness of the light almost washed out all else. From the corner of his eye he could see Pham clambering over the plate docking station beside him. Not that it mattered. Whatever this monster was going to throw at him, he could take it.
As the thing thrust the ball at him, Pham leapt. He hit the button on the end of a cylinder in his hand as he sailed through the air and crashed into Warren’s chest. An explosion tore through the thing’s ankles, as that’s where Pham’s bomb had ended up - just as planned.
What he hadn’t planned on was Warren being fixed to the floor and him bouncing off into the path of the spell arcing straight for them. An actinic glow wrapped around Pham and he screamed as his body bucked and writhed. Warren caught him as he fell and whatever his feet were doing stopped, sending the pair sliding across the floor and out into space.