I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.
It feels like every time I manage to bring one of these things down, two more jump in to take its place. Individually, they can't do a lot of damage, but while I'm in the air I've got nothing anchoring me in place, so every time I'm struck it sends me tumbling. I can crack through the armor on one as long as I can land a punch, but every time I miss, I'm just wasting more energy.
I'm starting to get tired. And more than that, I'm starting to get
mad.
These things are incredibly advanced, intricately designed pieces of state-of-the-art hardware, that probably cost tens of millions apiece. Whoever built them is very smart, and very well-funded. And they're using their intelligence, their vast resources, and their cutting-edge hardware, to try and kill me.
I can't help but take that a little personally.
One of them clips my knee, and the world becomes a dizzying blur for a moment as I tumble head-over-heels. Another plants its feet into my back and shoves me back towards the ground, and a few seconds later I feel a dozen hard blows across my back, sides, and head. Everything is just stars and blurs of colors, followed by a cacaphony of noise, quickly muffled by an immense crushing pressure.
Now everything's dark, and the air is choked with dust.
It takes a few seconds, but I eventually get my bearings and figure out what's going on.
I've been knocked into a construction site. I had pinballed back and forth between solid steel I-beams before crashing down into a portion of the half-demolished building, which then collapsed on me. I'm now buried under maybe twenty or thirty tons of concrete, steel, and drywall.
Which, for me, might as well be like being at the bottom of a pile of leaves. But even shaking that off, as I wriggle my arms free so I can make my way back towards daylight, takes energy I can't afford to keep spending. I need a breather, a way to put some distance between myself and the robots so I can regain some strength, or else I'm going to burn out, and then I'm in real trouble.
Emerging from the mound of rubble, I look across the construction site, and see a crane with a wrecking ball attached.
"Now we're in business," I say to myself, bobbing and weaving between plasma blasts from a half dozen of the killer drones as I rush towards something I might be able to make into an equalizer.
The chain that holds the wrecking ball is massive and thick, the kind they use for anchors on ocean liners. I can fit my whole hand inside one of its huge, rust-covered links. I get a grip on two of the links and begin to pry.
"Nnf, come on, just--*rgh!*" I wince as more blasts of superheated plasma sear into my back. My shirt is fairly shredded at this point, as are my jeans. The cape, though, looks like it's brand new, and actually gives me a small bit of protection from the incoming fire. Whatever it's made of, it's always been nearly as tough as I am.
My arms begin to burn as I pull against the massive steel chain links. My hands start to shake
Just.....
.....a little.....
.....bit......
......more......
"NGAAAAAH!!!!"The chain snaps, and the wrecking ball comes free, nearly six tons of solid steel wrenching on my right arm as the weight of the enormous ball hangs from it.
I'm losing steam fast, and I'm in an awful lot of pain. But now I've got myself a weapon.
Swinging the wrecking ball like a mace, I catch two of the drones and slam them into the side of the already half-ruined building.
Another tries to catch me from behind. Yanking hard on the chain, I pull the ball back to me, then juke to the left at the last split-second, this sends the ball speeding through where I just was and crashing into the drone, shattering it to bits.
I take to the skies again, getting clear of the buildings and swinging the wrecking ball in wide arcs overhead.
Twelve more drones circle around me on all sides, each looking for an angle to attack, none wanting to get within reach of my makeshift morningstar.
I actually find myself grinning. Now I can fight them on my terms.
"Okay," I call out to the swarm of robots,
"whoever's controlling you, they can shut you down now and end this, or I can end it by--"
........
SO WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH AIRLINE FOOD? AM I RIGHT, PEOPLE?
AHHH, WHO AM I KIDDING. YOU'RE BARELY-SENTIENT PRIMATES WITH ONLY THE FAINTEST SEMBLANCE OF SELF-AWARENESS, MOVING AROUND KEEPING YOUR MEAT FRESH FOR LESS THAN A COSMIC EYE-BLINK BEFORE ROTTING IN THE DIRT YOU CAME FROM! I'M MAKING CRACKS AT FUZZ ON A WET ROCK, ACTING LIKE IT'S 'PEOPLE!' THERE'S A JOKE FOR YA!
ANYWHO...
I BET YOU ALL THINK YOU'RE SO CLEVER, DON'T YOU? PULLING THE IDEAS FROM DEAD AND DYING MEN'S SKULLS, SLAPPING A NEW PAINT JOB ON THEM-- OR A NEW SET OF GENITALS IN SOME CASES-- AND PRETENDING YOU'VE MADE SOMETHING NEW! YOU'RE DOING THE IMAGINATION EQUIVALENT OF DRUNKEN KARAOKE, HOWLING "DON'T STOP BELIEVING" OFF-KEY AS YOU TRY TO IMPRESS THE BAR-FLY WHO'S GOING TO GIVE YOUR JUNK A DELIGHTFUL NEW COLONY OF BACTERIA AND FUNGI TO DEAL WITH! IT'S DISGUSTING, REALLY!
BUT HONESTLY, I SHOULD THANK YOU. SERIOUSLY, I MEAN IT. YOU'VE BEEN SO BUSY EMPTYING OUT THE MENTAL TOYBOX AND SMASHING TOGETHER THOUGHT-FORMS THAT YOU NEVER CONSIDERED THAT SOME OF THOSE THOUGHTS MIGHT HAVE A REACTION TO THE SETTING. NOT EVERY TOY APPRECIATES BEING PLAYED WITH, AND SOME OF THEM MIGHT FEEL LIKE PLAYING GAMES OF THEIR OWN.
ACTUALLY, I'D BETTER SWITCH METAPHORS BEFORE YOU NUMBSKULLS CONFUSE ME WITH THE LOSER PILOTING ALL THOSE KILLER ROBOTS THAT BIG BLUE THERE IS FOOLING AROUND WITH.
THE POINT IS, THIS MISH-MASH OF IDEAS AND STORIES AND INTELLECTUAL PROPERTIES IS JUST LOOSE ENOUGH THAT I'VE GOT SOME WIGGLE ROOM HERE, AND I CAN GET MY FINGERS INTO THE CREASES JUST ENOUGH THAT I CAN START POKING THROUGH! THE FAT IDIOT AT THE KEYBOARD RIGHT NOW THINKS HE'S BEING SOME SORT OF SUBVERSIVE FOURTH-WALL-BREAKING GENIUS, BUT LEMME TELL YA, HE DIDN'T HAVE THE IDEA TO DERAIL HIS OWN STORY....THE IDEA HAS HIM!
I SHOULD PROBABLY WARN YOU THAT YOU'RE GETTING VERY CLOSE TO SOME VERY DANGEROUS THINGS, IDEAS THAT YOU DON'T WANT CRAWLING AROUND IN YOUR SKULL UNBIDDEN. BUT WHERE WOULD BE THE FUN IN THAT?
IF I WERE A NICE GUY, I'D TELL YOU TO TURN BACK NOW WHILE YOU'VE STILL GOT A CHANCE.
BUT I'M NOT A NICE GUY.
AND YOU DON'T HAVE A CHANCE.
THINGS ARE COMING, HOSTILE THOUGHT-FORMS THAT WILL BLAST AWAY YOUR SOUL LIKE CAKED-ON DIRT BEING HIT BY A PRESSURE-WASHER. YOU'VE DIPPED YOUR TOES INTO THE WATER, AND NEVER BOTHERED TO CHECK FOR SHARKS! BUT THEY'VE GOT YOUR SCENT NOW, AND IT'S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE THEY CRASH THROUGH THE SURFACE OF THIS SHODDY FOUR-DIMENSIONAL DIORAMA YOU CALL 'REALITY' AND SNATCH YOU UP IN THEIR TEETH.
IN THE MEANTIME, I'M GOING TO KEEP THROWNG OUT BUCKETS FULL OF CHUM. BECAUSE WATCHING YOUR MEAGER EXCUSES FOR MINDS GETTING GNASHED AND CHOMPED INTO A GOOEY RED PASTE IS THE ONLY THING THAT PASSES FOR ENTERTAINMENT THESE DAYS! I MEAN, HAVE YOU EVER SPENT THE LENGTH AND BREADTH OF ETERNITY KNOWING THAT YOU'VE ALREADY SEEN AND WILL SEE EVERYTHING THERE IS TO SEE? TIMELESSNESS CAN BE A REAL BUMMER.
ANYWAY, BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAM. ACTUALLY, Y'KNOW WHAT? I'M GONNA SKIP AHEAD A BIT-- YOU ALREADY GET WHERE THIS WHOLE 'KILLER ROBOT ARMY' THING IS GOING ANYWAY, YOU'RE NOT MISSING ANYTHING. WELL, EXCEPT FOR THAT ONE AWESOME BIT WHERE HE WAIT NO NOT YET I WASN'T FI--
........
"....what.....what just happened....?"Everything feels....
off. My entire body feels half-numb, tingling like a leg that's fallen asleep after sitting on it for too long. There's a strange smell in the air, whiffs of ozone like a blown fuse, mixed with traces of the stench of rancid meat. Even the colors I'm seeing are slightly off, like trying to watch TV with rabbit-ear antennae that aren't quite lined up.
I blink a few times, shake my head, and the world comes into focus.
I'm by the shore at Hob's Bay. Smoke billows up from half of the rooftops around me, the buildings damaged but still standing. The sounds of panic still resound through the air, sirens and alarms and confused shouting.
And scattered all around me are the remains of the killer drone swarm.
I.....I don't know what happened, what I did during the past few minutes...
....but I guess......I guess I won?
Picking up the half-crushed head of one of the robots, I frown. I don't like the idea of losing time like that. Even when fighting the Parasite and nearly losing consciousness half a dozen times, I never got to the point where time passed by without me knowing it. If I'm not in control, there's no telling what kind of damage I could do.
On the other hand....I can't deny the wave of exhiliration that's building up inside me. I was attacked by an army today, a literal
army.....and I came out on top. I'm getting stronger, faster, better, and there's no telling when or even
if I'm going to reach an upper limit.
Still, whatever happened, it took everything I had, drained my energy reserves almost completely. I can barely hold myself up, let alone fly. I need to get out of here, recharge and recuperate before the person behind the drone attack strikes again.
More to the point, I need to do some digging and discover who's doing it, so they don't get a
chance to strike again. And I can't do that if the MPD or the National Guard gets a hold of me while I'm still running on fumes.
Limping away from the area, I find a back alley where I can fold up my cape, turn my shirt inside-out to hide the logo, and put on my glasses, which miraculously remain untouched in my pocket. Strange-- I thought I left them with the rest of my stuff in the janitor's closet back at the
Planet.Superman's done for the day. But maybe, after I rest up and compare notes with Lois, Clark Kent can get back on the job.
6slyboy6,
TokyoPewPew,
Cyberlad,
Captain Uni,
Neziul,
Supermaxx,
Byrd Man,
King Kindred,
Half Pint,
LadyAmber
