by Bonds, Javan
The closest antagonist jumped back when something wet splashed his arm. He clearly thought he had just been spit on. “What the fuck, man?” The offended pirate sniffed and realized it wasn’t a spray of tobacco juice. “Shit! Are you bleeding?”
He immediately grew louder when he heard the body thunk. “Help! We’re under attack here!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, not sure if a sniper bullet had dropped his friend or what was going on.
The yelling marauder fumbled through his pockets for a flashlight. The beam clicked on to shine out into the darkness. His mind could only process a few flashes before most of his organs spilled onto the deck in front of him. There were chrome plate armor, blue gloves, and strange blades slicing into his belly.
Guts spilled onto the bottom of the boat as the man let out a high-pitched scream. His pirate buddies on the other side of the small transport flicked on Maglites to look for their comrade. He was on his knees, pressing his hands to the empty pit of his belly. The screaming became even more frantic when, in the flashlight beams, he could make out his own pancreas in the pile of eviscerated bowels before him.
Beams danced around, no one was sure what happened. Some kind of silver astronaut stood over the dying man, strange daggers dripping with blood extended from his wrists. “What the hell are you?” Pistol rounds started flying with the question.
Sparks came from the armored attacker, giving brief glimpses of approaching death. The closest shooter tried to backpedal when it was clear small caliber rounds were ineffective. His gun hand was brought up to his face, with blades sticking cleanly through his wrist. The pirates grasp finally let loose from the pistol and it flew up to smack him in the face. The bridge of the nose exploded from the impact. Blood and mucus streamed down his face.
Before the rapid movement could be fully processed, the blades stabbed into the upper cheek, eye and forehead. The body went rigid as gray matter was punctured. Still living, the body went slack and voided its bowels as The Tech lowered it onto the floor.
With shaking hands, the man behind the controls dropped his pistol. “I’ll give up if you–” his surrender came too late.
Steel went into the stomach and turned up behind the rib cage. Lungs burst when Gene shook his fist back-and-forth. The pirate’s throat made a sucking sound but would never again draw breath. His eyes streamed as body fluid poured onto the deck. The man in Brotherhood of Steel armor threw his bladed hand forward and tossed the fading man into the water.
Gene turned around to see the lights on the third boat coming his way. The buccaneers on this small transport were aware something was wrong and planned to investigate the pair of stopped vessels.
A spotlight on the bow of the incoming boat came on and flicked around until settling on a figure in bloodied armor. The Tech had just been made. There would be no quick loading before the killing blow came. No extra lives. He would need to act fast.
“Shoot him, dammit!” Screams could be heard over the roaring motor. Gene prepared himself to dive into the water. Perhaps the buoyancy devices in the armor had not been damaged during the fight. I’ll find out if I start sinking.
Shots started ringing out across the water. Unexpectedly, The Tech wasn’t being mutilated by high-powered rifle rounds. His allies had come to the rescue. Easy and Hammer sent round after round into the approaching pirates. All The Tech could see was white, being blinded by the spotlight. Several cries and dying shouts from the antagonists and things became disturbingly quiet.
“Was that all of them?” Gene spoke in a conversational pitch, his voice carrying over the still water.
The Expert was more than happy to take the spoils of war. “Looks like it. We got a few boats and some guns out of it!”
The protagonists came up on the other side of Gene’s gore covered bass boat. Blood and eviscerated organs were scattered from bow to stern.
As the Tech planted his foot in the powered vessel, Easy noticed dents and scrapes covering the geek’s armor. Obviously caused from the small caliber shots, his friend’s plate had not been punctured. Sore and bruised The Tech would be but he wouldn’t have lived through it without the reinforced steel.
Knowing their task wasn’t complete, the haggard collector of fantasy memorabilia turned to The Protector. “It’s not over yet. I’m still in the fight.” Gene ran his hand over some of the blemishes in his chest plate. Scowling in the direction of the Pirate Barge with his teeth clinched tight. “Revenge is a dish best served cold!”
☠☠☠
“Sir, none of the motorboats are answering!” Minions were reporting the fighters were not returning hails. That could only mean one thing. The enemy was coming. War was motherfucking beginning.
Lindsay felt confident his Death Star could repel the pitiful rebels. He spoke with a smirk and a wave of his hand. “We will open our motherfucking doors and let them enter. Then, we will trap the motherfuckers and they will not be able to retreat. The motherfucking line must be drawn here!” The Dark Side was strong in The Dictator. Every man is expendable. The Jedi wouldn’t motherfucking overcome!
☠☠☠
Three suited protagonists clambered onto the back of the small tug at the rear of the barge. Their tiny motorboat maneuvered in the dark out of sight to the enemy and with the stealth and agility of a cloaked Klingon Bird of Prey. No ranged weapons would be used. Silent melee attacks would bring down the antagonists before they could sound an alert.
One man for each of the heroes came around the corner. Cigarettes bounced onto the deck as they took in the shocking site of three metal behemoths coming at them. A Thunder Hammer smashed down squarely onto the head of amigo number one. The skull and spine immediately crashed down into the rib cage as the mallet drove downwards. Death came so instantaneously, the pirate doubtfully experienced pain when cranium merged with sternum.
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 it soft 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.
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 collar bones. 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 mute. 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 tug. 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 scream. The first mate, sitting in an office chair and maneuvering the tugs throttle, spun and stood, drawing his pistol.
Before he could take aim, The Expert launched herself forward and slammed the flat side of the broadsword against his forearm. The hand opened and dropped the weapon. When the man turned and op
ened 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 vital in the digestive process were slashed 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 semiautomatic. 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. “Motherfucking get 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-aught 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, blood, and 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 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 air. The Tech headed 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, 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 motherfucking 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.
Razor-sharp spear and 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. Choreographed spins came 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 be
hind the ribcage, causing Lindsey to drop his iklwa in shock and pain. Wolverine claws came out of his sides and blood flowed. 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 as he 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, 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!
