Built Different [Cyborg Superhero ProgFant]

After the silence of the break room, stepping back out into the stadium made me wince.

The bright lights. Cheering crowd. The sheer scale of everything. I took a moment to gather my senses before I continued out of the tunnel and into the limelight.

Unsurprisingly, the stage had changed. On the left, a single large box covered the entirety of that half of the stadium. Light gray, and about as tall as the wall from the obstacle course had been. The right side was an array of platforms and walls. Differing heights, but there didn't seem to be many roofs. An actual arena, not just in name, meant to look like the terrain of a decapitated city block.

A line of yellow paint ran across the ground from my position, trailing off to a central point in the built-up area. I waved to the sea of faces as I walked along. Despite the weight of the gaze of thousands of eyes… the expectations placed upon me… I felt rather calm.

After all, I was a tool built for fighting. A killing machine.

Some combat, even as a performance, wasn't any water off my back. While I was sure erasing the threat immediately would poll poorly for viewers, I wanted to win. It was maddening that I hadn't been allowed to watch the other three complete the challenge. Sure, it would be an unfair advantage… but I needed to know how competent to be.

It would be a knock to my ego if I lost this one.

The yellow trail took me up several platforms and around many short walls before I arrived in the middle of this array of gray structures. A square fifteen foot tall wall blocked my view of the—now northern—end of the arena that was covered. A display screen took up a section of this wall, but it was currently blank.

"Big round of applause for our current points leader, Gunquake!" the announcer's voice echoed around the area, and I couldn't place him. While the noise from the crowd increased, the host continued over it unabated. "In just one short minute, we will see what our cybernetic hero has to offer as the last to complete this challenge."

It was nice that the crowd couldn't see the grimace beneath my mask. Not that I had much of a face to even pull off that emotion. Sometimes I forgot I had no mouth. It turned out I much preferred fighting when my life was on the line, rather than engaging in combat to impress a crowd. Still, I was too far gone at this point. Committed to the bit.

Not to mention, every minute in the Arena felt like I was being pulled closer to some real violence. Full fat and invigorating. I could almost smell copper in the air already.

Instead of circling around my dull mood, my eyes moved to the display screen. Letters formed, flickering into view and showing me what the next challenge was.

A villain and his henchmen needed putting to justice.

It wasn't clear whether that meant 'putting them to the sword' or 'bringing them to justice'. A mixed metaphor that left my gun-arm chamber empty and indecisive. The timer said thirty seconds, so I had time to deliberate.

//Dubs: Almost missing your advice.
//Clara: I don't doubt that, Gunquake.
//Clara: As I feel even bland cliche may guide your thought process, I will say this:
//Clara: I do not wish you luck.

Closing my chat messages down, I rolled my eyes. I didn't even have the energy to try to read into that. Some passing but vague reassurance was expected, but her message felt a few steps away from the line of neutrality. If it weren't for the potential attempt on my life, she would have been helping me directly.

As I watched the timer tick away, it was neither here nor there. Against my inner nature, I decided to use less-than-lethal rounds for the challenge. Justice didn't usually involve exploding skulls or rending limbs from torsos. Not in the eyes of the League, at least.

A Nerve shell appeared within my gun-arm, and I flexed my metal fingers. My left hand rested on one of my belt-mounted grenades. The timer ticked away the last few seconds.

Once it his zero, the wall itself shifted and lowered into the ground. In tandem, the giant box shape covering the northern half of the stadium also sunk down. I watched as a similarly cluttered course of platforms, rooms, and short walls gradually appeared on the other side.

I moved directly to the left, to the nearest cover. Not only were the square shapes of gray now revealed to me, but the dark figures of my targets emerged into view as the covering wall vanished completely into the floor. Automatons.

Possibly two dozen, although some might be hidden among the structures. A mixture of small firearms and melee weapons. My lens gave me a Threat number that was hardly higher than the average street thug. I wasn't sure if I should be taking offense at this being the challenge. Considering my colleagues and their capabilities, perhaps this was a fair scenario.

Rather sad, in a way. A reflection of either the stock of heroes that signed up to the Arena, or a baseline expectation from the public for what a crime-fighter should be.

It was only yesterday I was chewing my way through ten times this amount of danger. Metaphorically. Hell, several of my kill contracts were worse than what now lay before me. The struggle wasn't in turning the robots into broken parts, but in gaining more arbitrary points than my contemporaries.

Of course, this might also be the point at which the assassination attempt was made. I was alone in the stadium, occupied with fighting, and bouncing between dense cover. Seemed too perfect an opportunity, and was the only thing threading some stress around my bones. What few I had left, anyway.

I moved as if everything was predetermined.

Smoke grenade came off of my belt, and a gray cloud burst around my location. Obscured, I went further left, dropping from the smoke into a corridor-like section in this maze of concrete. While the automatons undoubtedly focused on the cloud above me, I snaked through this underground section out of sight.

The shadows were where I excelled, after all.

Unfortunately, the hidden passageways weren't all-encompassing. Close to the left edge of the Arena, the covered section opened up. From my original vantage point, I had estimated there were roughly three levels to the cover, although the top layer was sparse. As I stepped back out into the light, I was thankful for how the terrain had been arranged. My left arm raised, and I shot my grapple out.

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Without any taller buildings, the helpful grapple wouldn't have had much use - but from my base floor position I had a clear line to a raised wall a third of the way into enemy territory. My feet powered up, and I used the boost of V-Force to accelerate my low-angled ascent across the Arena.

Right into one of the automatons on the next layer up. It wasn't looking my way. Gun trained on the area with the smoke cloud, it barely turned to look at me as I barreled into it. Grapple disconnected as I fired the Nerve shot straight into its neck and head. My feet hit the concrete, and I slid for a couple of seconds before rolling with the momentum into cover.

Empty shell bounced across the gray floor as an opponent further east pointed out my position and yelled to the others. Footsteps soon followed. I eyed up the wall to my right. Dropped a second Smoke grenade. Back on my feet, I stepped over and kicked a hole in the wall. Beyond was a small set of rooms, one corner with an open roof.

There was also an auto' with a cleaver. A little dangerous, in my opinion. I didn't have time to question whether it was blunt or not as they stepped toward me and swung. Sparks rang out from my arm as I deflected it. I stepped in and kicked it in the leg, breaking the knee joint backward. It stumbled and I blew Nerve straight into its featureless face.

Then frowned, as the Threat number had increased. Possibly just an outlier, as it had been hidden from my initial scan - or the organizers had turned the dial to make this more of a show. Even with the increase, they weren't much of a-

A bot dropped down through the ceiling hole, interrupting my thought process. Before I had materialized a new shell from back home, they released a quick burst from their pistol. My personal shield hissed as I dove to the side, one of the shots on target but absorbed. I questioned the amount of force those shots had as I fired a Nerve into them.

From what I knew about my shield, it felt as though I had deflected a normal small-caliber shot. Not something toned down for the Arena. Balls of paint or something more technologically competent was the expectation. Surely they wouldn't use live ammunition?

The clanking of metal feet against concrete came up to the hole I had made in the wall. I dropped a Flash grenade as a small train of automatons surged in to meet me. Reflex burned through my synapses. Nerve loaded and snapped out at the first bot almost instantly. V-Force in my legs pushed me forward as my grapple struck the second in the face, pulling them toward me.

I spun around them, knocking the first automaton to the ground as it fell as I wrapped the grapple cord around the neck of the second. Right foot came up to kick the third in the stomach. Light enough not to destroy, strong enough to knock them flying back out of the hole. As Reflex drained from my system, I held my palm up to the side of the restrained bot's head and put Nerve directly into its temple.

Even if they were smarter and more lethal than intended, I was at least thankful they respected the use of my ammunition. They reacted like a human would. Blinded. In pain. Reacting to the imagined Nerve damage. It was the one thing allowing me to stick to the less-than-lethal approach. There must be more points for that.

With my situation compromised, I sought escape.

A darkened doorway led further to the north, but I didn't want to step into a trap. Another opening to the east just took me back out south to where I had just been. What I needed was a vantage point.

Three long strides took me over a short wall to where the opening in the ceiling was. V-Force drives hummed into life, and I leaped up into the light. Feet found purchase on the next floor.

Then immediately stumbled as a heavy figure lurched into me. I twisted and grabbed onto this larger bot, using its weight against it. We hit the ground near the edge of the roof, and they toppled down to the floor below. As I stood up at the edge, my eyes met the three gun-toting automatons standing a few blocks over, like a shooting gallery.

My metal helmet extended from my neckpiece to encapsulate my head in an instant. Personal shield flickered and hissed again as the bots unloaded on me. Gun-arm twitched as I placed my shot. I much preferred melee enemies. High Explosive shot rocked the walkway the three were perched on, destroying it and sending them down two levels.

A metallic hand grabbed my ankles as the larger enemy from below hadn't had enough of me. I slipped from the edge of the floor and hit the ground beside them, rolling away from their grip as they tried to stomp down on me. The concrete cracked beneath their wide feet.

This must be the villain himself. Not too different from the henchmen present, but taller and wider. Stronger and more competent. Wearing weird black rags to look like an outfit. As I raised my right arm to fire, they snapped forward and grappled me, pushing my arm wide of them.

I grabbed them and they grabbed me, our arms outstretched as we contested strength.

Internally, I smiled. This was not a practical situation, or viable long term. My left arm was weaker than my right, for one. But this was performative. The crowd would eat this up. Three more bots rounded a corner further ahead, looking to get a piece of the action. The villain's arms groaned and creaked as they tried to bend mine back.

[Going down?]

A little too cheesy for my taste. I vented a burst of V-Force from the soles of my feet, blowing out the cracked concrete beneath us. We dropped to the floor below. Our contest ended as we tried to find our footing. Debris clattered and dust swirled around us.

Of course, the robot then decided to show why it was the villain of this set piece.

The Threat level suddenly spiked into the triple digits. Spikes emerged from its right hand with the snap of pneumatics. Before I had a chance to react, the arm blurred with red light, striking me in the torso. I recoiled from the mace-like appendage and struck the wall. Shield fizzled and went out, inert as it recharged.

I rolled away from the follow-up that blew through the wall completely and immediately hopped backward with my cybernetic power. The only reason my face wasn't torn off was because I had shot Foam as I evaded, pinning one of the villain's feet to the ground.

The villain wailed mechanically as it struggled against the restraint.

I took a deep breath and leveled my right hand toward it.

[Time to force shutdown.]

Another dose of cringe, but I had no shame. The wrinkles in my brain felt a little smoother than normal. Triple shot powered through my arm, V-Force buzzing with energy as I pulled three shells from the warehouse. Before the villain had a chance to protest, three Nerve shots burst into the wide torso of the bot. It shuddered before powering down.

I flexed my fingers and looked up at the sky. If I didn't score well, then fuck this. I shook the odd internal outburst out of my head. With little but a sigh left to give, I launched myself out of this hole. Now that their boss was incapacitated, the remaining hench-bots were easy enough to mop up. As their number dwindled, the less effort it took to tidy them up. I moved effectively. Cold. Not making much of a show of it.

Once the cheers of the crowd met my ears, I knew that I had finished.

Parts of the Arena started to shrink down and flatten out. A main stage in the center slowly formed. I stretched out and tapped at my stim pack. The clawing tendrils of a headache were forming, which was unsurprising given the two days I'd just had. My desire to play along was waning. Nerves on edge. Irritated.

I walked my way to the center under the overpowering presence of the audience, and noted that the other three heroes had emerged from one of the exit tunnels and were coming to meet me. Time for the results. I cared more about my skull pain and sense of unease than however they had performed. Maestro looked smug as ever, not that he knew any better. Asshole.

Blue Bulwark just looked as grumpy as usual, partially because they had to wait for some of the terrain to sink away before they could continue. A main pathway had formed, but the surrounding scenery was lagging behind, splitting corridors in half and leaving artefacts of the original design behind.

At the rear was Snake-guy, being as nonplussed and out of place as usual. Maybe it was just the exhaustion catching up to me, but I found myself watching him in disbelief. So many questions, I needed to pick his brain once all this was over. I needed to know.

The man paused for a second next to some of the blocky terrain that hadn't shifted yet and turned to wave at the crowd. He had fans, at least, as the cheers-

Fear gripped my insides as my blood froze in my veins. Things went in slow motion.

I watched as a large metallic figure stepped out of the shadows of the blocky terrain.

A long, drill-like lance burst through Snake-guy's chest, spraying the gray terrain with bright red blood.