“Because they turned me into a freak?”
“Because they stole your humanity. And because, whether you do it or not, everything that is DaemonS might soon be gone.”
He was right. She saw it clearly. And yet, a small part of her still held out for a win-win solution. There was always a chance the process could be reversed once the battle was won. Wasn’t there?
The command came loud in her ear. “Tortugas! Fire!” A heartbeat later the thunderous roar of a dozen cannons launching high-speed death filled the air. She turned to the Cyclops and watched as, to her amazement, patches of the air before them seemed to thicken. Looking closer, behind the Cyclops, she could just make out a cluster of small vehicles shaped like giant cockroaches that were darting between the tentacles, shielding the monsters. DaemonS watched with the rest of the soldiers as the tank shells plowed into the thick sky, coming almost to a standstill before falling to the ground.
The results of the battle were far from certain. Turning, she met Figment’s eyes, “I’m in.”
“Den count me in too,” Bodybag added. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere near dem things alone ‘oman.”
“I’ve got two mailmen,” Figment relayed over the comm, his eyes never leaving hers, “ready the packages for delivery.”
The guns fired again but Figment held her deep within his bottomless orbs. “I’d love to say ‘great’, ‘excellent’, ‘you’re doing humanity a service’ — and you are — but the truth is I’d rather you weren’t going.”
“Figment....”
“Wait. I’m not sure if you will ever forgive me for my part in the double-cross. Yes, I was as much a victim as you, but I should have known better. It didn’t seem right from the beginning.”
“Figment....”
“Just a moment, this has to be said. Whether you forgive me or not, when you face the final curtain alone, staring the Reaper defiantly in the eye as I know you will, I just wanted you to know that, well, there is someone here who cares about you — very much.”
DaemonS hardly noticed Bodybag’s uncomfortable cough as the big woman turned away. His words moved her as nothing before had. She hadn’t known Figment capable of such emotion. Her heart melted from the warmth in his eyes and she stood staring at him, lost in the moment. And then she pulled him to her, pressing her lips to his. He returned the embrace, enfolding her in his arms. The world disappeared and she was lost in the passion of their kiss as time stood still. She would have stayed forever with the taste of him in her mouth, his warm, moist lips covering hers except they were thrown to the ground as Bodybag landed hard on them. Moments later an energy beam flashed overhead, close enough to singe the hair on her arms.
“You two picked a fine time ta overcome yur issues. In case ya hadn’t noticed, da bad guys are here.”
DaemonS raised herself to all fours and looked toward the suburbs. The Cyclops were indeed within range.
Figment climbed to his feet and slapped Bodybag on the shoulder, “Thanks, we owe you one,” he said, glancing at the Cyclops before adding, “There’s no more time to lose, we have to leave now.”
“We?” DaemonS asked, standing while keeping on eye on the advancing row of enemy troops.
“I’ve got my own business to take care of down there.”
“But won’t you get caught in the blast radius of the Raptures?”
“If I do my job well, I’ll be out before the fireworks.”
“I don’ like it,” Bodybag said.
DaemonS had to agree. “Me neither, there are too many things that can go wrong.”
“Perhaps, but it’s still necessary, my task is almost as important as yours.”
“An’ what is yur task?”
“If your mission is to destroy the body, then mine is to cut off the head. A head I’m convinced has grown back since the last time I destroyed it.”
“Yur not makin’ much sense, man.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” DaemonS said, crouching as a pair of lasers slammed into the road, splattering them with debris. “We have to get going.”
“You’re right. Follow me.”
Figment set off at a jog, bent low across the roadway, behind the tanks, to the central command position where the general stood shouting orders.
“Wait, we need to tell the…,” DaemonS yelled, but Bodybag’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“The others will want to know,” she insisted to her teammate.
“And den what ‘oman? Dey’ll want to come wit’ us. But we ‘de only ones dyin’ right now.”
She didn’t like it, but Bodybag was right. The team had been through a lot together, but this was where they had to part company. After a moment’s glance to where the others held position, firing on the advancing Cyclops, she and Bodybag ran after Figment, catching up to him as he spoke to the general.
“Defender shields, angle more toward the Cyclops. Tortugas, if you’ve got a shot that doesn’t pass through the blue, take it.” Stacked behind him were three pairs of weapons — flak cannons and shock rifles — and two Rapture tactical nukes, packaged in a carry bag with a comfortable shoulder strap for easy transport.
The three collected their weaponry before Figment called, “General, we’re ready.”
Narcorn turned, appraising them with a steady eye before speaking. “I can’t say I’d like to be in your shoes right now, but you are doing a great service to your world and perhaps all life itself. Your job, your sacrifices, should you prove successful, will mean more than most in known space will ever understand,” he gave each of them a strong pat on the shoulder. “We have only one Stinger to spare, unfortunately, but I see you still have your Sky Skates. They should get you there quick enough; the entrance to the main base isn’t far.”
“Thank you, sir” Figment said as the three moved off, skating behind the rows of tanks toward their Stinger.
* * *
If they weren’t racing for their lives in a battle for all existence, DaemonS might have actually found being towed on the Sky Skates fun. As Figment flew the Stinger at top speed through the downbelow, dodging debris and swerving around decayed scaffolding, she and Bodybag surfed his wake on their skates, slaloming around rubble piles behind the light craft.
Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, the voices grew much stronger as their destination approached. DaemonS feared she might not be able to control herself once in the heart of the Nekroid base. With the bone sheath now fully formed, there were moments when she caught a stray reflection of herself — in a fractured window, a putrid pond, or even off the wingtip of the Stinger — and wasn’t sure who she was seeing.
“Only a few hundred meters,” Figment called over the comm.
Her stomach clenched. This was it, the culmination of her life, every moment had led to this one final battle. She already knew she wouldn’t be walking away from it; it was her job to make sure the other side didn’t either.
But then an uneasy feeling pulsed through her body and she glanced to Bodybag. “You felt it too.” It was a statement not a question but Bodybag nodded the same.
“What’s going on back there?”
“We have inc...” The voices suddenly erupted in her head and she bent forward, almost losing her balance. “Incoming,” she managed through clenched teeth. “Something fast.”
“Where?” Figment sounded desperate.
DaemonS could imagine him, head swiveling side-to-side scanning the surrounding ruins for signs of attack. “There’s nothing around us, no hint of an enemy.”
“No, not around,” it required an iron will just to focus her thoughts through the din of voices. “Above!”
A sudden blur slammed into the Stinger, forcing it to the ground causing the two women on skates to try and dodge the now immobilized craft. As the craft flipped sideways, DaemonS was clipped by a wing and crashed hard, tumbling across the rough ground until a rusty metal bar protruding from the debris skewered her
through the shoulder. She screamed as the pain jarred her back to the moment, chasing away the voices.
The staccato sounds of artillery fire erupted behind her. Sweating and gasping from the pain, DaemonS propped her feet beneath her. Grasping the bar in both hands, she pushed herself up, feeling the rough steel slide out of her. Free, she flopped to the ground, panting. But the sounds of battle continued, a constant reminder of the dangers her friends were in.
DaemonS climbed to her feet hoisting the rocket launcher to her shoulder and staggered toward the battle.
* * *
Figment darted out from behind a mound of rubble and pumped a grenade at the attacking vehicle, which actually jumped out of the way! It was incredible; a transparent bubble of skin propelled by tentacles that wound beneath; inside, a solitary Nekroid soldier was visible. The vehicle rolled, leapt, and spun, dodging his attacks, before retracting the tentacles to leave a vicious trio of protruding blades. Not for the first time, he wondered about the minds of the Nekroid engineers. Or perhaps the nanovirus itself devised the vehicles through an evolutionary process of trial and error. Either way, they were amazing.
The ball came screaming toward him from the air and Figment triggered his Sky Skates, skirting to the side to escape. The Lieutenant was right; the skates were like sliding on a zero-friction surface. He could only imagine what the recoil from a weapon would do to his motion. However, he’d already seen matchers adapting to it, despite the fact that he had trouble just staying upright. In fact, he had to stow his weapon for fear of dropping it.
The vehicle chased him a short way until it reversed direction after being hit by a rocket launcher from behind. Bodybag. He rounded a rusted support beam and chased after the retreating bubble car, as he’d taken to calling it.
The vehicle slowed a short distance away, snapping at Bodybag with its tentacles like a vicious octopus. Now they had it trapped between them and Figment skated up a ledge before planting his feet in a firm layer of refuse. He unslung his flak cannon and lobbed off several grenades that exploded on the transparent shell even as Bodybag hammered it with rocket after rocket. Cracks appeared in the shell under the constant bombardment, but the Nekroid hadn’t given up. A short hop into the air allowed it to retract the tentacles and it landed, a spinning ball of bladed death. Bodybag dropped back into the shell of a building as it charged her. It then reversed direction, bouncing and spinning toward him. The entire shell was laced with cracks but still it came on.
Figment held his ground, hoping for the kill shot until the last moment, when he was forced to leap from the machine’s path. He landed hard and something solid rammed into his rib cage. With the sudden pain he lost hold of his flak cannon and it skittered away down the slope of rubble before him. He reached behind to unlock his pulse cannon, but froze upon hearing a loud swishing of air. Turning slowly, he stared up into the face of the bubbled soldier and knew there was nowhere for him to go.
With predatory slowness, the tentacles extended from the sides of the bubble, sliding into the air like snakes about to strike. The long blades on the tips gleamed in the light and there was a satisfied look in the face of the Nekroid as he reached for the controls.
Then the vehicle exploded.
Figment ducked, protecting himself from the shower of flesh and metal shrapnel that fell to the ground around him. One of the blades knifed into the dirt after narrowly missing his head. As the dust settled, he looked up to see DaemonS standing over him, rocket launcher resting against one shoulder. The other shoulder sported a large red blotch of dripping and caked blood surrounding a three-inch wide hole.
“What happened?” He jumped to his feet, rushing to her side.
“Nothing.” She coughed, wincing as her arm moved. “I’ll be all right.”
“That’s not nothing! Do we have any meds? You have to get that fixed up.”
She swayed, putting a hand on his shoulder for balance. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll be okay. The pain helps me stay focused. And anyway, I’ll be dead before any infection can kill me,” she said with a half smile that broke his heart. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her everything was going to be okay. But he didn’t want to lie to her.
Bodybag rushed toward them, “‘ey kids, I t’ink we best be movin’ on before dey send more giant creepy-crawlies at us.” As she glanced at DaemonS’s wound, her face said what her mouth didn’t. Just as quickly, it shut up again, and Figment understood what the two women instinctively knew. Such wounds were unimportant; minor inconveniences to be ignored. Theirs was a one way trip and there must be nothing that stopped them from reaching their destination.
“This way,” he said, “it’s close.”
20
They entered the Nekroid base, pushing their way through a sphincter into a corridor of soft, organic walls. It felt like being swallowed. The complex was reminiscent of the jungle research facility; only the corridors were much longer, extending straight ahead and out of sight as shadows hid the distant ends.
The three crept along the corridor, weapons out, staying close to the walls. Bodybag and DaemonS held ready their flak cannons while Figment carried the lighter pulse cannon loosely in one hand. “It’s like a maze in here,” he warned. “Keep close until our paths necessarily diverge.”
For DaemonS it wasn’t difficult to see the truth in his statement. As they passed a side corridor, a quick glance revealed numerous portals and branching corridors. It was fortunate she wasn’t planning a return trip because it was unlikely she could find her way back anyway.
As they sped down the corridor, the distant end remained invisible and unreachable. Fortunately, it wasn’t their goal and Figment turned sharply at the fourth branch, leading them into another tunnel that was almost indistinguishable from the first.
Footfalls of the three echoed down the long vacant corridors inciting one thought in DaemonS’s mind: where were all the baddies? Ominous emptiness met them at every turn and, while happy they hadn’t had to fight their way in, she had expected some opposition. The lack of guards or even base personnel was even more worrying than an overabundance would have been.
Apparently Figment had realized their obvious question because moments later he supplied an answer of sorts, “The last time I was here it was also empty, or at least sparsely populated. I’m not sure if that’s because these areas are unimportant or because the Nekroid have a hidden means of observing us. Best not to worry about it yet, you’ll have plenty of chances to fight before the job’s done.”
They rounded another corner before taking a sharp right. How was Figment remembering the route? There didn’t seem to be any distinguishing markings on the walls or doors. To DaemonS, every corridor was identical.
After what seemed hours, and when she was certain they had begun retracing their path, winding their way back through tunnels of unending sameness, Figment led them into a short hallway that ended in three circular portals. Each was covered by a reddish material that appeared to be raw tissue. The substance extended from the portal rim, reaching out from the circumference in gently curved strips to meet at the center.
“Those two,” Figment pointed at the doors on either side of the corridor, “lead to the the conversion pools. The other one is mine. Be careful, I doubt we’re unexpected.” Then, as he stared at the door a sadness crossed his face and he turned back to them. “I can’t help feeling responsible for this, for what you’ve been led to. It’s one thing to be taken in myself, but I brought you both into this mess. If not for me, you wouldn’t be facing this.”
DaemonS began to reply but was surprised when Bodybag beat her to it. “Don’ worry man. Life ‘as many strange turns an’ twists, an’ many paths to wander. No one can say what would’ve been otherwise. We’re ‘ere now, chosen by fate to do dis, so let’s get it done.”
“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” DaemonS said in the ensuing silence. For a moment the three just looked at each other. A tear caugh
t in her eye, as she knew these to be their final moments together. From this point forward each would follow their own path, alone.
Figment clapped Bodybag on the shoulder and gave her a nod of respect and thanks. She gave a sharp nod back in understanding. And then he moved to stand before DaemonS. Reaching up, he caressed her cheek before taking her head gently in his hands. She stared into his eyes and understood. Words weren’t necessary and would only be hollow placeholders of the feelings in their souls. Another too-short moment and they parted, Figment running off down the corridor with only a single glance back. Before she knew it, he was gone, swallowed by the portal.
“We’d best be goin’ ourselves.” Bodybag turned toward one of the side doors but DaemonS stopped her with a hand on the shoulder.
“It’s been great working with you Bodybag and I’m proud to call you teammate and friend. I wish things could end dif....”
Bodybag held up a large hand. “I’m sorry ‘oman, I ain’t never been good at this mushy stuff an’ it ain’t purdy seeing a big ‘oman cry.”
“Bodybag....”
“So let’s jus’ do what we do best and frag whatever gets in our way. An’ don’ worry, we’ll meet again, if not here den in the big match in da sky.” With that, Bodybag clapped her on the shoulder before jumping through the portal to be swallowed behind a sphincter.
In moments the tunnel was quiet and all signs of her two friends were gone. DaemonS stood completely alone in the corridor. Not how I imagined my death, she thought. But all things considered, there are worse ways to go than dying while trying to save the world.
She turned and stepped through the portal that splotched open at her approach. Beyond, the tunnel curved from sight, narrower and lower than the main corridors but with the same skin-like surface. She stepped forward and everything went black as the sphincter snapped shut behind her.
Game, Set, Deathmatch Page 21
