NOVEL NEXT 168 - Bad Dream
Despite being a frequent observer—and often dealer—of death, the violent demise of Snake-guy was shocking. Senseless and immediate. One moment a questionably competent gag character, the next just a limp amount of flopping limbs and bloodied lack of explanation.
The three of us who remained watched in stunned silence, a captive audience for the new showstopper fresh on stage. Disgust and anger roiled within me. The impaled hero was lifted into the air on the end of a spiral lance, his innards a mess of crimson, before the body was tossed aside. Discarded, Snake-guy hardly even bounced.
It wasn't a stretch of the word to call the perpetrator of this act a walking nightmare. Partly, he was exactly that. I couldn't place exactly which shadow lurking in the back of my mind tied to this interrupter, but it was one of them.
Calling the suit of pitch-black metal power armor would be doing it a disservice. It was bulky and imposing. Given the similarities, it wouldn't surprise me to find out at a later date that it was made of the same material as those ancient mechs. If my brain survived long enough to absorb new information, anyway.
The lance that had pierced the unfortunate hero emerged from the arm of the assailant. A thick hand still gripped the wide handle, but it appeared as though it could be disconnected from the main arm if required. His left arm was a cannon that would have put my old gun-arm to shame. It was wide and complicated in design. It wouldn't fire standard ammunition, I was sure of it.
As my emotions rose to a boiling point, I couldn't draw up the details of how his legs looked, or what might tech might be lurking beneath the rounded chest plate. It was all blocky shapes of black and dull silver. My eyes were focused on his face.
Like the rest of him, it was covered entirely by the dark metal, aside from a bright red visor across where his eyes should be. He turned to look at me.
"It's been a while, Bard."
His voice cut through me like a hot knife, deep into the recesses of my lost memories. Churned my organs like fouled butter. The hollow, careless cackle that followed his statement did nothing but drum an aching name into the forefront of my mind. My stomach lurched once more.
Chevalier.
The knight of our group. A name so uncommon yet sharply specific it left no question in my mind that this was one of my other brothers. Given his current actions and alignment, I had no doubt that he was on the side against mine when the squad split.
This realization, paired with the constant stream of messages in my left eye, was overwhelming. I could barely take them all in, yet everything I could just soured my mood further.
Several explosions had hit the city at the same time the knight had appeared. Clara's rapid-fire updates seemed to indicate that law enforcement offices were the targets. Reports of villains causing problems were pouring in. Most frustrating and standing out amongst the deluge of problems was one of her most recent messages.
Director Kingston had been kidnapped.
Things were spiraling down the drain. For this amount of competent planning, it had to be the World Government throwing their weight onto the issue. Namely - my existence. From my position, this all seemed over the top. Either they overestimated me, or I was selling myself short.
Clara also mentioned the protective barrier keeping the crowd safe from Arena activities had gone rogue, and wasn't letting the Natural Disasters—or anyone else—on scene currently. No doubt if the super wasn't surrounded by the panicked crowds she would have put all the effort she had into trying to break it… but for this moment I was on my own.
Well, aside from Blue Bulwark and Maestro.
The pair were equally shocked at the sudden death of our fellow hero. They were on guard and unsure, but had moved back away from the knight. Without realizing it, I had been moving forward despite the stun lock of my thoughts. The three of us met in a loose group of tension. Despite our differences, we were on the same side against a greater threat.
Almost something to give me a glimmer of comfort. Instead, my arm snapped up and Overcharge crackled from my elbow to my wrist. A Sanguine stake whipped across the distance between us in a fraction of a second. Directly at his face.
There was a pop, a distant hiss, and then silence. The solid metal bullet hung half a foot away from Chevalier's visor, suspended by some manner of stasis field.
He glanced at it and tilted his head. A mocking gesture.
"No honeyed words? And I thought I was the one to shoot first and ask questions later." The knight lifted his cannon up toward us. "How things change."
I didn't have the time to shout a warning, regardless of if they would even listen to me. A spark of bright blue flickered before illuminating the interior of the knight's cannon. Accompanied by a piercing shriek, the shot blinded me as it fired. I had just enough time to put my arm across my face as a scorching-hot blast-wave engulfed me.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
My trenchcoat billowed. The smell of burning leather and super-heated air filled my re-breather over the course of what felt like minutes. My arm stung as it absorbed some of the heat. After two painfully long seconds, the attack abated.
New shells entered my arm as I lowered it. Further surprise spiraled through my insides.
Blue Bulwark stood in front of Maestro and I, arms spread wide to act as a shield. His shell smoldered with dark smoke. Parts of it were cracked in places, while some softer sections bubbled from the remaining heat. He had protected us as best he could, but at a heavy cost to his own health.
The large beetle-man groaned as he lowered his arms, shuddering before dropping to one knee.
"I figured this would be pest control, but honestly…" Chevalier cackled again. The hollow sound echoed around inside my head and cooled my senses.
[You need to take Bulwark out of here. It's me he is after.]
Maestro's face contorted because of several different emotions fighting for control. Perspiration ran down his brow as he glared at me, the decision over whether to follow my directions or not evident in his stressed eyes. For all his faults, he swallowed his pride and gave me a brief nod.
Not every other hero had a digital Threat readout like I did. Those that didn't just had a knack for reading a situation. Intuition. The successful ones, anyway. It was probably the most begrudging decision he had made in his life. Death was a little more troublesome than our dick-measuring contest.
The barrier surrounding the stadium had dulled to a reddish-gray opaque color, hiding the crowd from us and probably us from them. Ruddy light gave the atmosphere a distasteful hue that made it seem worse than it was. Oh, but it was bad.
Before Chevalier had a chance to recharge his cannon or figure a different attack, the Triple shot loaded into my arm fired out. At the same time, I pulled a Smoke grenade from my belt.
Smoke, Flash, and Foam hit my target as a large cloud of gray billowed out around us. If his tech was half as decent as mine—which it should be—then he'd be able to see through the fog, anyway. I watched as Maestro pulled Bulwark up to his feet, their outlines moving towards cover on the right. All I had to do was buy some-
I avoided death purely by instinct.
The tip of the spear emerged from the smoke, almost impaling my head. I couldn't see his outline through the dense gray due to his own cloaking. Black metal rang out against my shoulder as it skirted past my head. I twisted away but didn't have the footing to avoid the follow-up. The blunt end of the cannon struck me square in the chest and sent me rolling back out of the smoke.
I slid across the concrete and spun back up onto my feet.
Instead of stepping out from the wall of gray, there was an immense hiss, and the cloud was blown away. The dark plated figure came into view as the obscuring smoke dissipated.
"Your soft spirit shines through once more. Letting the meat shields run, and to what end?" He extended his arms in an open gesture. "Have you nothing to say to me, brother?"
[You are overconfident and boorish. As soon as the barrier is down, the best heroes in the city will erase you whether I am dead or alive.]
He lowered his arms once more, disappointed. "That robot voice is rather unpleasant. It's no wonder you keep your mouth shut these days. Don't you worry your little head over me, though. I will have my cake and eat it too."
Any desire to correct the use of that phrase fizzled out. He had a means of escape once the protective cube withdrew. Probably not flying, but a short-range teleport sounded likely.
I couldn't let him get away.
Yet, a bigger part of me knew my role here was rather… arbitrary. I'd never seen a Threat level anywhere close to four digits, and while the number fluctuated wildly, I was clearly outmatched on a basic level. Especially without a way of putting Sanguine holes through his armor.
While Silhouette had utilized his affinity for being hidden, and my bardic nature had brought friends close to me over time, Chevalier was a more tangible presence. A knight with powerful offensive and defensive capabilities. Once a super-solider, I could only imagine the training and trials the World Government had put him through before piling on all that technology.
Almost felt like a shame to waste it on killing me. As if I were that important.
[We both know how this sort of thing plays out. Neither of us will sway from our paths. Your goal is to kill me.]
"You happen to be more stubborn about accepting that than most of our kin. I bet you feel accomplished, hmm? You were weak before you became a corpse hobbled together with spare mechanical parts. Now, Bard? I almost pity you."
While his constant jeering was rather irritating, it was serving a purpose. I wasn't sure how to approach him without knowing the limits of his stasis field. With my ranged capabilities nullified, melee completely outmatched, and movement almost pointless in the neutered arena… I accepted the stalling with open arms. Figuratively. I had been told to go easy on using my arm in the Arena. For now, I'd need to push myself to the limit. Something I was well-versed in.
[I don't concern myself with the whimpers of a Government lapdog.]
Chevalier growled—rather fittingly—and raised his cannon up to face me.
This time, I was a little better prepared. White light and heat washed over me briefly before I slid out of the firing line, my grapple pulling me across the floor and into a shadowed corridor of some minimal terrain stuck in place. I slammed into a concrete wall and let the foam melt away. Still no closer to a solution, but at least I wasn't fried. I shook my head off as his voice echoed around the open space outside.
"So avoidant, Bard. Perhaps I can have some fun with the other mice hiding in this maze first?"
If I had any teeth, I'd be grinding away at them. His plan was as transparent as if I had come up with it myself. Goad me with the life of the other heroes. No doubt he was expecting me to run out from my cover after him, where he'd be waiting for just that. Easy ambush. Of course, knowing that obvious trap didn't make the decision any easier. While Maestro and Blue Bulwark weren't good friends, I wouldn't abide their murders.
As I clenched my fists, a message came through.
//Clara: The experimental shell mentioned yesterday has been renamed Tempest shot.
//Clara: Using it might be the only way to overwhelm his shield.
//Clara: But you will need to do exactly as I say.
//Clara: Do you trust me, Gunquake?
I nodded my head solemnly as a slug of dense magical energy teleported into my gun-arm.
Time to even the playing field.