by Bonds, Javan
Hammer brought up her massive sword and sliced cleanly through the man in the middle of the trio. The Flame of the West sliced through his midsection like soft butter, leaving him alive for the briefest of seconds. The blade went between ribs and cut through both lungs. His eyes grew incredibly wide, looking at the person that just killed him. Before a breath could be taken, both pieces of the man started sliding apart. Blood started pumping and the body collapsed, the heart being cleanly divided. Body fluid began pouring out of the severed corpse as it collapsed to the deck.
One last victim stood before The Tech. “I think–” was as far as he got. Gene threw himself onto the man, driving his claws above the man's collar bone. As if choreographed, The Tech pushed his wrists up, turning his adamantium blades down at exactly the right moment. The knives sliced into lungs, rendering the man instantly breathless . Gene then brought his fists together, destroying arteries and cutting off blood flow to the brain.
The Protector, The Expert, and The Tech were satisfied with their brutal efficiency. No alarms had been raised, and they could continue at a casual pace. Excelsior Comics’ owner spoke in a low pitch to the others. “There can’t be many more of them. We need to make our way to the bridge so we can assimilate the command crew.”
☠☠☠
“–on their way to motherfucking destruction. The motherfuckers have no chance to survive! We’ll just make our time until they get to my motherfucking throne room!” Gene threw open the door to the wheelhouse of the tugboat. He heard the tail end of a conversation over the radio. The speaker seemed to be quoting something from an old but familiar arcade game. These criminals will be crushed, down with them completely. For great justice!
The Tech pounced clean across the room, bringing both hands up to slice three V’s into the back of the man captaining the vessel. All that came from the captain was a short bubbling croak. The first mate was currently sitting in an office chair and maneuvering the tug’s throttle. Upon hearing the commotion, he spun and stood, drawing his pistol.
Before he could take aim however, The Expert launched herself forward and slammed the flat side of the broadsword she wielded against his forearm. The hand opened and dropped the weapon. When the man turned and opened his mouth to scream at Samus, she flicked her hand to the right and sent Anduril into the lower abdomen of the pirate.
Intestines, kidneys, liver, pancreas, spleen, and everything else vital in the digestive process were slashed through cleanly, as blood and bile seeped from the gaping wound. Horror, shock, and inconceivable pain caused the pirate to, instead of reach for his gun or give some type of final cry, simply fall unconscious.
Falling over onto the controls, the captain reached into his waistband to pull out a rusty semi-automatic pistol. He couldn’t even roll over to pull up the piece. As he turned, The Tech jammed the claws of his left hand into the man’s side. The gloved fist jerked violently to the right, attempting to exit the man’s belly. Another scream came from the pirate when the uppermost blade snagged on the bottom rib. This caused the protagonist’s hand to rotate and come out the abdomen at an angle, ripping the hole wider.
Gene was apologetic as he brought his right hand up to mercy kill the poor man. “I’m sorry.” he mouthed. With a slit throat, the pirate would soon fade away into infinity.
☠☠☠
The Dictator could feel that they were no longer moving under power. No indication had been seen as to why the tug had stopped pushing the barge. But he could still feel the barge moving as if it was now just drifting with the current. At least the soon to be captured vessel had stopped launching cannonballs at the pirate barge. These cannonballs had once been used to knock something else down. The Dictator understood what they were when a lieutenant rolled one of the projectiles into his secured presidential bunker which was nothing more than a shipping crate surrounded by other large, metal containers.
These motherfuckers had been throwing bowling balls at us!
An explosion rang out shaking The Dictator inside the metal shipping crate.
“What? Did someone set us up the motherfucking bomb?”
Lindsay looked over to some of his underlings and gestured to the other end of the container. “Get motherfucking over there, and wait! When they come through the door, they’ll realize it’s a motherfucking trap!”
☠☠☠
The occasional scream could be heard from outside the throne room. It was obvious they were drawing closer. The Dictator wanted to make sure they knew to come in here. Light was showing through the door and he was nearly giddy when he started hearing their metal booted footsteps outside. This was going to be a battle to motherfucking remember!
A cowboy boot stuck a few inches into the door. Next, a blue jeaned leg cautiously came forward. The couple of nervous ambushers held their shotguns at the ready, trigger fingers primed for action. Finally, a body showed itself completely. They both sent a shell of double-ought buckshot into the figure. If they had been paying closer attention, they would have noticed the upper half of the shirt was soaked in dark blood and the body was already decapitated.
The individual they thought was an aggressor was actually a former comrade. The body of their fallen brother was skewered on the end of a blade, the sharpened steel sticking through the chest. Two shells of buckshot slammed into the piece of dead meat, destroying the already deceased human. The pellets penetrated bone, exploded blood, and liquefied organs, sending shredded remains to the floor. The sack of flesh being tattered eventually slid off the sword and crashed with a wet plop to the ground.
Both of the men looked at each other in confusion. Unsure what to do now; they were only able to cock their shotguns. A metallic sphere bounced into the door and settled on the steel floor. After a second, they both discerned what it was. “Oh shit!” they screamed in unison.
Another second was spent trying to hide behind absolutely no cover. Lindsay would be safe in the other half of the container behind heavily fortified walls. There was no time to run. No time to do anything. The two men began screaming, expecting the unimaginable agony.
One second later the fragmentation grenade exploded, the pressure pushed them against the wall, crushing bones and flattening their bodies against metal. Skin and muscle were torn from bone as blood boiled in their veins. Eyeballs melted in craniums, organs roasted, tongues broiled as screaming mouths disintegrated into powder. The fiery explosion lasted for eternal seconds while the Pirates were tortuously dragged through their final cut scene.
☠☠☠
Flanked by the other two armored protagonists, The Tech led the assault. There had to be a finale. He was confident those last couple of enemies had been protecting a principal. There had to be one last boss. It was going to be legendary!
The Protector made wide, slow, practice swings with his giant hammer. The Expert swept Anduril back and forth in front of her, hearing the blade zing as it sliced through the air. The Tech lead the trio, raking his adamantium talons together, singing the chorus of approaching death. Booted feet carried the metal juggernauts to another epic cut scene.
☠☠☠
The Thunder Hammer slammed repeatedly into the heavy, steel door. Under the brutal onslaught, the metal began to noticeably give way. An unrealistic amount of earth shattering blows later, and the door finally fell, clanging onto the floor. This was it. They had come too far, slain too many enemies not to receive a memorable finale. Iron Man stepped to the side and let the Brotherhood of Steel Paladin wearing the Wolverine claws be the first to enter the final level.
The Tech walked into the throne room, adamantium blades extended at his sides. This final duel was going to be awesome; as long as Robotnik didn’t use any rocket launchers. Gene was hoping for a TV he could jump on!
A young man, similar to Gene’s build, stepped from behind a divider. Wearing a black cowl that shrouded his eyes, he held up a strange bladed weapon and touched it to his forehead. “Are you prepared for your complete and utter mother
fucking defeat? There will be no health packs and you cannot return to previous saves. I will be your motherfucking end!”
As any classical villain would be expected to do, the enemy fueled by the Dark Side began his introduction. The Dictator waved his hand. “My name is of no motherfucking importance. The only thing you need to know is that I am your motherfucking destruction. Resistance is motherfucking futile!”
An impersonation of Scarface was attempted. “Say hello to my little friend.” Presenting his blade, he continued. “This is an iklwa; My African thrusting spear which I will use to slash you into motherfucking ribbons!” Holding at least a two foot staff with a double-sided blade spanning just as much length, he explained the strange sounding name. “The name is derived from the sound the blade will make when it pierces and then exits your body. Now, prepare for some motherfucking iklwa!”
Gene paused. Star Trek: Voyager’s Neelix? The question was on the tip of Gene’s tongue as he brought up his gloved hands to make a triple X with his claws. “Do not think your darkness can outshine the light. The Sith will never be victorious!” Stepping back The Tech then sprang forward.
A Razor-sharp spear and Gene's Wolverine claws instantly collided, lighting the immediate area with more sparks than a fireworks show. The Brutal African weapon was narrowly averted with numerous Force Leaps and diving rolls.
☠☠☠
Blades continued to come together and sparks flew with each clang. Seemingly choreographed spins unfurled as weapons met. George Lucas would’ve been proud.
The thrusting spear fruitlessly clanged against Gene’s thigh and The Dark Lord seemed to be growing tired. “To the last, I will grapple with thee, motherfucker!” The Dictator hissed.
Eyes grew wide behind the Brotherhood of Steel helmet. This enemy could have been quoting Shakespeare, but he was pretty sure it was a quote from Shakespeare quoted in The Wrath of Khan. Could this antagonist be a fellow nerd? There was some instinctual knowledge that this assailant was a brother.
Nooooo!
The final boss raised his blade in both hands for a heavy blow. Opportunity was in front of the Excelsior Comics owner and he was happy to take what The Screenwriter provided. In the blink of an eye, The Tech slammed both fists into either side of The Dictator. The blades struck behind the rib cage, causing Lindsey to drop his iklwa in shock and pain. Wolverine claws came out of his sides and blood flowed freely. Gene was almost sorry for winning the fight.
The Dictator sank to his knees in a growing pool of blood. Looking up at the chrome faceplate and through bloodied teeth; he snarled and chuckled out Khan’s last words. “From hell’s motherfucking heart, I stab at thee. For hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee, motherfucker!” Before the onyx robed figure of The Dictator collapsed into a heap, he let out a last maniacal cackle pressing a small remote control device which started a ticking timer.
Finally, the figure dropped, his eyes closed never to open again. Gene couldn’t help but shed a tear. Victory had been won, but there was also a sense of loss as a brother, a fantasy following equal lost to the Dark Side, now lay dead at his feet.
There was only one possible thing to do; pick up the thrusting spear and make a mad dash off the barge. It took nothing more than a simple order to get his comrades moving. They were out of the throne room and on their way to the motorboat in a dead run. More than one of the metal containers they ran past had signs alerting of explosives inside. Somehow, The Tech already knew his enemy had set the barge to self-destruct.
Three armored protagonists leapt into the motorboat. Iron Man turned the ignition and the motor started. The mains are back online. Gene mumbled to himself, “Bless you, Easy.” The voyage home had begun.
When their vessel was a good distance away from the barge, a fiery explosion engulfed everything around it. The motorboat nearly flipped when the shockwave passed. Fortunately, the irruption caused no tidal waves. Surprisingly, no earthquakes were induced due to the ground shaking cataclysm. Only a mushroom cloud remained to showcase the failed attempt at revenge from The Dictator.
Triumphant they may have been, but The Tech didn’t take joy from victory. This victory came at the cost of one of his last living fellow geeks. Well, at least an open geek, the Brotherhood of Steel paladin smiled.
Maybe there’s hope for MO!
☠☠☠
Interlude 3
“Mo Gray Fox here. You read?” Every night at the same exact time. He worked like a clock. Well, I have no clue about last night. I was too busy clearing a dam and almost getting turned into a zombie!
I responded with a smirk. “No.”
I waited for several seconds. Nothing. A few more seconds went by and still no reply. Thousands of horrible scenarios ran through my mind. Fearfully I ask a question. “Daddy?”
“Mo. Gray Fox here. Do you read now?”
Apparently, he was going to be an asshole and not even allow me to be sarcastic. I can’t be anything else! Really, I shouldn’t have been expecting him to have a sense of humor, especially over the radio. “Yeah, I got you.”
My father came out of his Saving Private Ryan lingo. “Wow. You’re alive. How about those nightly debriefs?”
I knew what he was doing. I had said the same thing to him way back when he didn’t get with me the night we left Guntersville. The rest of the crew must have been too busy doing absolutely fucking nothing to get on the radio last night. So I guess that means he knows not a damn thing about Festus or that debacle with the Pirates. I’ll probably have to fill him in on the ship that went down last night, too. That’ll be fun!
Smirking in spite of myself I echoed his response from when we departed. “Yeah, sorry about that. We were clearing a dam last night, and I almost got infected.”
His eyebrows arching was nearly audible. “What?”
Regretting I had said anything, I tried to give the simplest answer. “I’m okay. It didn’t bite me. Just a scratch.”
“No signs?” He almost sounded like he wished there were.
My smiles sounded through the radio. “Nope.”
Always the optimist, Daddy continued. “Well, you could still be turning. Maybe you’re just a slow burn.” He then spoke to my brother through the radio. “Easy, keep an eye on Mo. There is always a chance.”
My brother only grunted in acknowledgment. Easy was willing to end my life if I broke out into a sweat or let a nasty fart. Have I ever told you how much I love my family? My dad is convinced that I’m about to become a zombie given that he knows next to nothing of what happened. On top of that, not only did my father tell him to, but my bald-headed sibling is more than ready to murder me if my skin tone changes in the slightest.
The rest of the crew spoke to the radio in turn. Of course, their lazy asses weren’t to blame because they broke protocol and didn’t radio dad the night before. That subject was entirely skipped over. When it came around to The Tech, he looked longingly into the speaker. “Is Hunter around?”
My dad snapped. “Oh yeah! Hang on; I’ll get them in here.” I could imagine my dad walking to the door and screaming until someone came to see what he wanted.
My mom entered with the boy and encouraged him to tell a joke. “Hey Gene, why didn’t the leopard go on vacation?”
Gene barely held back a tear when the boy spoke his name. “Hey, buddy. I don’t know. Tell me.”
Hunter could barely get the answer out. “Because he couldn’t find the right spot!” He exploded into fits of laughter and was probably rolling on the floor.
Gene was also laughing like it was the most hilarious line ever told. He was wiping his eyes, and I don’t bet the joke was what made him weep. “That’s a good one. I love you, Hunter.”
No response came from the boy. My dad sounded apologetic. “Sorry, you can’t get much more out of him than that. It’s a start.”
The Tech seemed satisfied. “That’s all right. I like the joke.” Okay, I’ll admit it. It made me smirk, too.
Mama gave greetings and “I love you’s” to all of us before running out of the room to keep an eye on Hunter. Daddy sighed once they were out of earshot, confident he could talk about the happenings on the island, especially happenings revolving around the supposed temporary replacement for The Man of God. “He finally did it!”
“Who did what?” I questioned like a spectator that had no clue what was going on.
He was enraged. “The sumbitch, Brother Brown, came out and said he’s suspicious of your mama and me! He said it after another girl went missing yesterday.”
I was surprised I hadn’t been curious earlier. “Brother Brown... What’s his first name?”
“Mike.”
My jaw dropped, though he couldn’t see it. “Mike. Mike Brown. Michael Brown?”
My dad hesitated. “Uh, I figure...”
I paused even longer, hoping he would figure it out himself. I don’t guess he got it. “Come on! Michael Brown. ‘Hands up, don’t shoot?’”
My dad seemed completely ignorant. “Okay?”
It’s like the sense of humor for the entire island fucking leaves with me! This is as bad as Bobbitt and Dick! I tossed the radio to The Protector, disgusted. I was completely unable to carry on a conversation with someone that had missed an entire decade worth of current events.
“Gray Fox. Iron Man. How do you read?”
My dad gave just a one-word greeting. “Easy.”
My brother continued asking about the situation with the preacher. “So he said he thinks it’s you. Does he have any proof?”
My dad scoffed. “No, but he says he’s going to start an investigation.”
“And what did everybody else think when he accused you?”
I was taken aback at his uncharacteristic use of profanity. “Of course the dumb shits believe every damn word he says! It’s sickening!” He calmed down. “But Benji and his crew know we’re not kidnappers. They’re all on our side. So are the phantoms and the police department. Oh, and the Army guys.” I almost forgot about the soldiers that surrendered on the day the peevies became day walkers. I’m glad he has the guys with guns backing him up.
