Built Different [Cyborg Superhero ProgFant]

There was something about this unknown woman that told me she was all business. It wasn't even the dark silk shirt and slacks she wore, or her hair tied neatly behind her. Simply, it was the lack of grandstanding.

Heroes and villains often fell into the trope of monologuing or delivering exposition and witty one-liners. The lady with akimbo magical revolvers did none of that. She just pointed her guns at me and fired.

I rolled across the debris as her ammunition tore up chunks of the broken stonework. Each of her bullets was like a miniature High Explosive shot. I responded in kind with the loaded steel ball. Her shielding flickered and deflected it.

My last Smoke grenade burst from my vest as I found my footing. I turned, and my grapple went out. Energy fizzled around my own shielding as I slid away from the encounter and found cover around a tight corner. Her bullets peppered the stonework, drilling some clear holes near my position. Tendrils of my smoke cloud swirled through these piercings, the air displaced in the wake of her shots.

It was nice to see that the Fading Storm group had some members with actual ability. For certain definitions of nice, anyway. A few more minutes of being shot up, and I might have a change of heart. Probably one that no longer functioned.

A circle of amber light grew from the floor to the left of me, arcing over my head and over to the right side. I jumped forward just as the wall exploded. My boots squealed across the floor as I whipped around and fired out my grapple.

The woman hadn't been expecting me to come at her, and had delayed bringing her weapons up to meet me. Still, she got a couple of shots off before I collided with her.

She was no superhero. Training and tech meant little in opposition to getting hit by a truck. Her shielding burst, overloaded, as her body flung away from the impact. To her credit, she twisted and spun - remaining on her feet as she slid back against the opposite wall.

Her arms hung a little slack as he regained her breath. Grim smile of determination on her face as she glared at me over the rims of her spectacles.

I clenched my fist. V-Force drives powered up, running some comfort through my veins. Warm blood ran down my side from a gunshot wound. Minor damage. My adrenaline was running high again. Waning mania took a backseat to me having control over my destiny. Over the violence I had to enact.

It was almost a shame that it would be over soon.

My feet powered me forward, and the force cracked on the floor. Arm back, I lashed forward and fired as I approached.

She used her own version of a Smoke grenade. A dense cloud of dark blue enveloped her location. My fist went through, Nerve shot peppering the wall right before I punched a hole through the stone. Right knee came up in reflex, but she hadn't ducked either.

//Clara: Seven.

I spun in place and brought my gun-arm up across me, barely deflecting a magic shot that came from a second cloud of blue over by a different wall. The woman stepped out from it, both revolvers leveled toward me.

Overcharge crackled down my arm, and I broke a rule.

While walking bored through the empty hospital, I had found a list of the warehouse inventory in my lens files. Most of my regular ammunition was in no danger of running out. Some of the rarer stuff would need restocking once the day was through. Most interesting, however, was the concepts and prototype section. Unnamed shell types that had no set use or weren't ready for production.

Clara probably wouldn't want me using these without them being tested or finalized. They were one-of-a-kind. Once they were known to me, it became too natural for my synapses to grasp at them from the void. I was sure she'd forgive me.

LS-08-GBS.

Magical revolver fire rained down on me. My protective helmet deflected two, gun-arm absorbed another, two entered my torso. Tac gear could only do so much to dull the force. The weapons didn't seem to need to reload, firing far more than six shots each. Rather than be torn apart under the magical hail, I bet everything on an educated assumption.

The shell full of my blood sample whirred with life as I forced Dispel into it. Nanites bloomed with magical energy. Overcharge cracked through the air as the V-Force drive vented.

With a sharp yelp of surprise, the woman stumbled back. My blood soaked her shirt but it wasn't solid enough to cause her any physical damage. She snarled as she snapped back, weapons readied again.

Only they didn't fire. Her shock was only momentary, but it was long enough for me to approach her. Nerve shot hit her chest right before I barged into her. She slid back again, still maintaining her footing once more. However, now she was hunched over. Breathing raggedly, she dropped her revolvers and grasped at her chest. She gave me one final glare before passing out. The imagined pain was too much for her lungs.

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[Tell the Disasters there is a criminal here to detain and transfer to the authorities.]

//Clara: Understood.

It would have been easy to put a steel ball through her instead. Even just tear her head clean off with my hand. As much as my past egged me on to wallow in the violence, I had been tempered to be a hero. Even when the city was under so much pressure, I didn't give in to the goading.

Hmm. Not quite accurate. Before I fell off my high horse and cracked my head open, I reminded myself I was content enough to melt through the mercenaries before knowing they were plant people. The raw truth of the matter was that this woman would clearly be more valuable to take in. She might offer up information to the League so that we could learn more about the plans of the World Government. The downside of being a disposable pawn force was exactly that.

Despite my inner conflict, I cuffed the woman and arranged her on her side so that she wouldn't choke on her tongue. There didn't seem to be any obvious radios or tech to communicate with those downstairs. I did, however, take the revolvers and put them to the side. Belle might be able to use them, as amusing as that mental image was.

//Clara: Looks like you've stirred the nest, Gunquake.
//Clara: Either they expected the fight to last longer, or they're delaying your descent.
//Clara: Squads moving from both stairwells.

I was about to question how she could tell, before my own ears picked up the sound of boots. For as quiet as the plant people were, there was only so much you could do en masse. Sounds like two or three groups. That was a lot of bullets. All for me.

[Any good locations to defend from?]

//Clara: Location marked.
//Clara: Equipment storage rooms. Should have more cover.

There was a minor temptation to run straight for the nearest stairs. I had clearly gotten used to fighting opponents who were no match for a gun, and didn't use their own. With a brief glance behind me, I set off for the marked location. I had already taken enough damage from the revolver-wielding woman.

The magical ammunition had caused a number of actual wounds that I could slowly heal through. I wondered if there were supposed to be secondary effects or a greater response due to their nature. Maybe my own latent magic power dulled them to the point of being no different from mundane bullets. Either way, the brief pain radiating from the impact points helped with my adrenaline requirement.

I sank into a doorway, stepping through into a gloomy room. No windows, which left the area dark once the door closed behind me. Rows of heavy machines lined the walls and sat in rows. Some shelving here and there filled with metal boxes. Only one entrance. Compared to most places in the hospital, this was reasonably defensible.

//Clara: Ventilation System in the back left.
//Clara: Grating moves through the floor, so can be removed if you need an escape.

Perfect. The only downside of being so bunkered was that I was also pinned in place. I meandered through the lines of machines to find a good place to make my stand. Once the plastic explosives I had slapped on the door went off, it was a simple matter of how many bodies and bullets the mercs could stand pushing through the opening toward me.

Once I had slaughtered them, it was time to up the stakes. This was just a desperate ambush to slow my progress. That meant the main forces would be moving down to the lower floors to have a greater chance of stopping me dead.

//Clara: Contact in ten.

I rested my arm along the top of some kind of limb-scanning device. Triple shot hummed through the metal as the barrel switched to above my hand. Even from my current position, I saw a brief shadow along the underside of the door.

The door flung open, immediately exploding. I fired. Flash. Oil. Incendiary.

Blood and charred stonework. A wider entrance than before. Hungry flames that now ate away at victims and survivors alike.

The chamber on my barrel opened up, ejecting three shells out. They clattered between machines, their hollow bounces against the floor music to my ears. Return fire rang out, inaccurate and unsure.

Metallic pings burst around the room as their firearms struck everything but me.

//Clara: Estimated eight dead or critically injured.
//Clara: A handful with minor wounds. Rest are moving back away to re-consolidate.

I rolled my eyes. That wasn't fun. They were meant to just fill into the room and we'd start off with a shoot-off before devolving into a brawl between machines. Clearly, they had neither seen many movies, or had the same thought process as villains did. These Government types were a real bore.

With a sigh, I hit the back wall of the corridor outside the room with a Smoke shot. If only to stave off my boredom and introduce more visual clutter for my adversaries. Either they were about to grenade the room—which would be mostly ineffective—or were otherwise trying to find a way of getting a shot on me without getting blown up.

Waste of my time.

[I'm done with this cat-and-mouse game. Time to take control.]

I turned and hit the ventilation with a High Explosive round. With the clatter of metal sheets, the vent and grating in the corner fell through to the floor below, creating quite a racket.

[Catch me if you can!]

Then I was gone. There was a high chance that they had done exactly what I anticipated and withdrawn their main forces. Which meant that skirting past these half-wits meant a clear ride. Right before the tidal wave, at least.

//Clara: Natural Disasters are almost there to secure the criminal.
//Clara: I will get them to clear up behind you, Gunquake.
//Gunquake: Understood.

Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. My boots hit… a table, on whatever floor this was. Eight or seven? I'd given up counting. I was inevitable. A grim, bloody reaper circling down toward the Fading Storm higher-ups down in the depths of this building. They could see every time one of their minions was snuffed out.

Floor by floor, we were closing in on them. I wondered at what point they'd realize that they had made a grave mistake. Maybe I'd make a few more arrests. Turn their deathtrap/bad publicity plan into a good news story for the secured Goldarch come tomorrow. Maybe I'd just paint the walls with their brains. Scour their thoughts to find out where they went wrong.

The three upstairs were capable. Fading Storm would be little more than a weak breeze once I clicked my fingers and snapped into old habits.

Only needed one thing to get this show on the road. Luckily, I knew I was about to receive it. Right now.

A window on my right burst open, and a figure slid in across the floor.

I doffed an invisible hat to Roxy as she gave me a determined grin. Her fists were already clenched and radiating heat. She could see the look in my eyes. I extended my metal hand toward her.

[May I have this dance?]