Galactic Fist of Legend

by Scottie Futch

  The moment that the mecha's head cleared the guardrail, Red Robe caught sight of his prey. Unfortunately, for the cobra, the mongoose was already prepared.

  "Surprise mother fucker," said Scott casually, before he slammed a little red pickup truck that he held overhead down atop the unprotected skull of his hateful foe. A loud crashing sound echoed through the air. It was followed by several similar sounds as Scott beat at the monster's head and hands with his weapon of choice, a light-duty S-10 pickup truck. The windows were shattered. The engine was knocked loose. One wheel fell off in the process.

  The guard rail gave out just before the truck did. Panting heavily, Scott tossed the truck down atop the fallen monstrosity then proceeded to toss several neighboring vehicles over the side. A few cars had been sent flying by the explosion, but what the monstrous mecha pilot had not counted on was the fact that his prey was not stupid enough to simply wait atop the bridge. A trap had indeed been set, and the fool walked right into it.

  "I'll kill you. You bastard!" screamed Red Robe just before a Honda Civic crashed down from overhead. One interior camera cut off as the mecha's left eye became too damaged to send signals.

  He struggled to free his machine from underneath the weight of several tons of abandoned automobiles. Unable to convert his hands back to weapons due to the need to pick up and push the wreckage away, he was never able to see the real danger coming until it was too late.

  Twin fireballs bounced into the night. They lit up the air in a majestic display of dancing flame that would have delighted audiences around the world. However, their goal was neither the wonder nor the whimsy generated in an overawed audience. No, those majestic balls of flame were agents of death guided by the hands of fate and a wily mongoose.

  What Red Robe had thought of as just a trickle of gas from an overturned truck, was revealed to be something far more sinister. Flames licked up along the surface of the cars nearby. They ringed the area completely, and soon even the vehicles atop the beast caught fire.

  The whistling sound emanating from pressurized fuel canisters would have been a considerable warning for anyone capable of paying attention. However, the mecha pilot was busy pushing away flaming wreckage. Just as he was about to free himself from the last of it, an explosion rocked him from the side. His zombie mecha fell hard to the left only to get blown back by another carefully placed explosion.

  Propane tanks, whatever gas could be found, and anything flammable in the area that could be acquired and hidden for the attack, the mongoose had planted them all.

  Said mongoose had already vacated the area as soon as the first flames had begun their dance. He did not want to be caught in the ensuing explosions. The night was still young as well, and he doubted this would be enough to end the beast. Pressing his luck would get him killed. The mongoose was a dancer, not a gambler.

  The cobra had been cocky. Scott bet everything on this chance to weaken the beast. He suspected that the bastard would bomb the top of the overpass then become overconfident. What could one little man do to such a behemoth? The result was beyond Scott's wildest dreams. The fool was so arrogant that he'd even tried to peak above the overpass after shifting his hands back to normal. The mongoose punished the cobra for his foolish hubris.

  Now the cobra knew the truth. The mongoose was ready.

  Scott knew that his opponent would be more cautious next time, but for now he could not worry about that. He had to get out of the area. He did not have the fire power to finish off the beast, and tossing cars off the overpass wouldn't work to do that much damage now. Not with the large amount of wreckage that was already atop the beast, and his limited amount of vehicular ammunition.

  A short time passed. The explosions stopped, and the fires died down. Charred black, and full of hate, the zombie mecha rose from the wreckage. Chunks of its flesh were burned away to reveal blackened bone, but it was still active.

  "Shield's out..." said Red Robe in a voice quiet as the grave. His power was low due to forced regeneration to maintain his systems and life support. He could no longer use his heavy gun. If he intended to continue with his summoned beast, he would have to rely on lesser firepower and his sword arm for the hour and a half that he had left.

  The trail had gone cold, but not so cold that he would be unable to find his prey once more. Red Robe searched the area with his one remaining headlight then moved toward the barely perceptible sound of the music.

  Scott far ahead of the beast, but was at a loss. What did he do when he came again? He doubted that the trap would finish the bastard. For all he knew, it barely hurt the thing. "He probably won't fall for something like that again. Now what?"

  A zombie moaned loudly and staggered toward him from out of the darkness. Scott took it out with a well-placed shot then looked to where it had come from. He had not seen many zombies after the battle started, but since heading in this direction he'd run across over a dozen of them. He was obviously in an area that he had not cleared before during his day trip. "One of these things could bite me when I'm not looking... Better be careful."

  A thought occurred to him, and he checked his mini-map. "The second place of interest... it's about twelve miles north of here."

  Scott considered that for a moment. That thing would find him eventually. The music would lead it toward him once he stopped moving. Either he could wander around aimlessly, or head toward a place designated as interesting and hope that it led to something useful.

  He made his decision then set out as quickly as his legs would take him. His flower power was starting to run low. He could feel it. It would work for a full day if he did not do much with it, but he had used his super jump, spent a lot of time running at full speed, and even used his special fireball controlling method to make certain that he hit the right spot earlier. Running and normal jumping did not take up much power, but it did constantly draw on it. Time was running short for him. Soon his statistical upgrades would be gone. The mongoose would lose his feet.

  Scott's body left a blurry trail of afterimages as he ran through the suburban streets. He ignored the zombies that staggered from the nearby houses. He hopped from one zombie head to the next as he bounded through a small herd of the beasts and continued on his way.

  It did not take terribly long to find the supposed sight of interest at the speeds that he could run. Yet, maintaining that speed for several minutes at a time had taken its toll on him. He could feel his energy bleeding away. It would take a short while for more of that power to be leached out of his body to replace what was taken.

  Eating the flower and the seed created a sort of internal battery for the garden forces. Most things like running, normal jumps, and even fireball creation were taken from the battery instead of the active floral power. Such things took the equivalent of a few seconds of energy out of what might be a twenty-four hour power.

  Every time his active energy was used, however, a large portion of the battery power was consumed to try to replenish his active floral power over time. His battery was running low now after several hours of being active and the heavy use it utilized in the last stretch of time. Several hours of energy would need to be expended just to regain a single floral power point. He had only regained two points since the battle in the parking lot.

  What he now suspected, but had not considered before, was the possibility that his flower power also provided something of a secondary defense. It was highly likely that his abilities had neutralized more of the damage he would have taken than he realized. In a way it was like the basis of the game that the world had been patterned after. In that specific game, the hero would eat a mushroom and grow much larger. That mustachioed hero could perfectly withstand a single attack that would normally kill him.

  In this real-life death game, the garden powers acted in a similar way. They reduced physical damage somehow, but unless he could actively view his status, he would not know exactly how much. The energy was cut off when he returned to his home point and healed h
is wounds last time. Either way, it was not just his hit points that helped him survive this long. The possibility that taking damage would also reduce his battery life, so to speak, was also something to consider.

  No matter the reason, the added help had begun to lessen. Soon he would be nothing more than an ordinary scrub once more. He had, perhaps, a few hours of floral power remaining at the most if he did not use his special abilities further.

  A place of interest could literally lead to anything happening. The first place he found in this particular story mission had sent him to the Imperial Garden, and allowed him to gain his new powers. The second place of interest might send him across time and space, or it might be something else altogether.

  Scott checked his mini-map twice once he arrived. The so-called place of interest was an empty field in the middle of nowhere. It was half a mile off the road, and featured nothing but grass and empty promises. Even in the darkness of the night, he could not make out anything distinguishing about the place.

  "Shit," he muttered casually. What was the point in coming here? Even if he managed to do damage to the undead bastard earlier, fighting in the open was stupid.

  He started to leave, but stopped himself. There had to be something here other than an empty field. It took far longer than he would have liked, but after running around that field in the dark for a few minutes, he did discover something interesting.

  "The hell?" he asked softly before reaching out to touch the thing. Said thing was a crack in the air. A scent reminiscent of lilacs and gooseberries flowed outward from what appeared to be a thin tear in the world itself.

  Curious, Scott stuck his finger through the tear and noticed warmth on the other side. He wriggled his finger inside the opening a bit, in that special way that a proper tear in reality might enjoy, then noticed that the air tore further open.

  Scott ripped open the supposed hole in reality to reveal that it was not so much reality that he had torn, as a thin membrane surrounding a small log cabin. From the outside it was rendered completely invisible. Hell, he had walked through the area that the cabin occupied a few times and had not noticed anything. It was not until he actually tore through the membrane that a hidden reality was revealed.

  He walked into the area of interest then looked around. The background music was still subtle, so he knew that he had a least a little time before the bastard reappeared. If he was lucky, he would find something amazing here that would let him finish things.

  The door was not locked, but then why would it be? The only one who should have been able to enter the place was whoever had put all of this here originally.

  Inside the cabin, nothing extraordinary jumped out at him. There were working lights, and there was running water. Otherwise, the top two floors seemed to be nothing more than an ordinary house. Scott found a few odd bits and pieces that caught his attention, mostly figurines shaped like zombies. Otherwise, there was nothing too interesting about the place.

  It was not until he entered the basement that things changed. Downstairs he passed through a steel door that had been conveniently left open. Inside the basement, he discovered a room of horrors. Cadavers were strapped to steel tables. Each of them was in a different state of decay. Some seemed quite fresh, others were cut apart with surgical precision.

  In the far corner, he found a table off to itself. A female corpse formed from various different parts, rested atop it. Each piece was sewn on with immaculate stitching. Yet, the top of her skull was left open. It seemed this corpse creation lacked a brain.

  "Bet this is that asshole's house or something." Sure, it was just a guess. However, a room full of corpses on tables did seem like the sort of place the red robed guy would call home.

  Off to the left he found another door. It led to a short corridor. On the other end he found himself inside another room. In this room, however, there was only a single table. The walls were lined with row-upon-row of shelves. On those shelves there were dozens, perhaps several hundred small glowing crystals seated upon little tripod holding devices.

  The table held one such crystal as well, but it was much larger. There was even something inside of it that seemed to move like a viscous liquid. The music had not changed, yet. There was time to explore further.

  Scott reached out to see what the thing was. Upon touching it, the crystal flared brightly with a brilliant greenish light. It was knocked loose in the process and a subtle hissing sound echoed through the room.

  The floor raised upward on the other side of the table. A glass display case was revealed. Scott looked into the case and saw a bizarre sight, even for this place. A little orange kitten with fluffy fur was curled into a fetal ball. The rise and fall of its little chest proved that it was merely sleeping and not dead.

  "Seriously?" asked Scott. The most secret thing in the secret hidden area was a fluffy little cat?

  Suddenly the cat wriggled in place. Scott hopped back and reached for his firearm. Instead of doing something menacing, however, the cat merely stretched languidly then lashed its fluffy little tail.

  Scott pulled his weapon anyway. One never knew what would happen in a place like this. Nothing did happen for a brief few minutes. Scott opted to use his other hand to pull a power bar out of his pocket. He had not eaten anything in quite some time. A little snack was in order while he figured out what else he could do about his real enemy.

  As soon as he took a bite and began to chew, the cat rolled over toward him then sleepily said, "Meow?"

  It sniffed at the air then opened its eyes and looked at Scott. Rather, it looked at the power bar in his hand. The kitty rose up then moved over to paw at the glass cutely. The movement revealed that it wore a collar, a rather thick one to be honest. Scott was uncertain how he could have missed such a blatant thing. A little bell hung down from the front, and a name tag above it on the collar revealed a probable name.

  "Princess?" asked Scott. Was that the cat's name?

  The cat's eyes widened. It rose up and pawed at the glass with both paws now. Scott looked at the cat for a moment then back to his power bar. Had it recognized its name?

  "Is Princess your name little fella? Does that mean you're a girl?" he asked the cat. The cat nodded then eyed the power bar once more.

  "Hungry?" asked Scott. He gripped his firearm tighter. In a movie asking such a question usually led to someone being eaten.

  The cat nodded once more, proving that she understood more than just her name. Scott idly considered giving the cat a piece of his snack but the worst case scenario happened. The music began to grow louder. The bastard was coming!

  "Shit, got to get out of here!" snapped Scott.

  The cat meowed loudly, desperately. She slapped at the glass case repeatedly with her paws.

  He nearly left anyway, but who knew what the bastard wanted with the kitty. "Hey cat. Get down."

  Scott lifted his weapon and the cat's eyes widened in surprise briefly before she dove to the side and covered her head with her paws. "Smart cat..." said Scott lightly before he fired on its prison. The glass case proved highly resilient to weapons fire, but not immune. He fired five times before it broke.

  The cat lifted her head after the firing stopped then looked around in wonder. There was now enough space to squeeze through if she wanted to do so.

  "Gotta go kill a bastard, best of luck cat," said Scott before turning to rush back toward the first floor.

  The kitty delicately extricated herself from the wreckage of her prison then looked toward the door. Her eyes narrowed slightly then she took a deep breath. Princess hopped down from her former prison then casually padded her way out of the room.

  Back outside, Scott ran out the door just in time for the membrane to disappear. He hoped to escape into the woods before the bastard caught him, but it did not work out that way.

  "Found you, fucker! Who'd have thought you'd get into my house?" Red Robe pointed his sword arm at Scott then said, "Didn't touch any of my collectibles did
you? Get that funk of yours all over them?"

  The zombie mecha was much worse off than Scott had originally guessed it would be. Badly charred, flesh and bone hanging off in several places, it had seen better days. Unfortunately, so had Scott.

  The champion attempted to flee the area, but a rapid fire series of energy bursts shot out toward his position. The mecha pilot used his submachine gun to good effect. Scott screamed in pain as several of those shots grazed his flesh, but tore off small pieces of his flesh with incredible ferocity.

  His screams continued to echo into the night air as the shot that hit directly continued to work its fell magic. He had taken two glancing shots that burned his flesh, but the shot to his shoulder went in deep. He fell limply to the ground and gasped in agony as the meat of his shoulder spread outward then popped free, much like how his own plasma shots would expand inside of a zombie's head. Half his shoulder was lost in the process. Blood poured from the wound, only his inhuman damage resistance and current vitality allowed him to even remain conscious. Even that would not save him for much longer.

  "You ran a merry race, but looks like it's over. If the gods were worth a fuck, I'd suggest you say your prayers now," said the giant zombie in the voice of its pilot. The mecha pilot aimed his weapon, a feral grin on both his face and the remaining face of his mecha.

  It was then that the most terrifying sound that the red robed man had ever heard echoed through the air. "Meow."

  "No way," said the pilot. He whipped his gun arm from Scott's location to the front door of his house. "You did not let it out!"

  From out of the darkness strode the embodiment of Red Robe's worst nightmares, a little orange cat. The mecha pilot gasped loudly. His mecha took an involuntary step back a look of surprise etched on its face.

  "Fuck me!" snarled the man before looking to the fallen champion. "Do you know what you've unleashed, you fool?!"

  The gun arm began to charge up. The pilot intended to finish Scott off then and there. Unfortunately, for Red Robe, the cat hopped in front of Scott then sat down pretty as you please. She then stared at the giant mecha with half-lidded eyes. "Meow."