Kill the Power Gamer

by Eric Vall

  “Watch yer girl there, Tony,” the man warned. “Somethin’s a bit off about her. I think she might be one of those time travelers sent back on murder missions. Did I ever tell you about the time those little gray fuckers tried to get me?”

  “Ignore him,” Tony whispered to me before he turned to the trench-coated man. “Only a million times, Cameron.”

  I ordered a swift scan of the man with my scanners so I could determine if he was a spy. My system went crazy when it hit his brain, as it found several irregularities that indicated all was not well with his systems.

  Still, how had he been able to tell I was actually a time traveler sent here to murder someone?

  “He has incorrect brain functions,” I whispered to Tony.

  “That’s the understatement of the year,” he chuckled.

  We rode on for fifteen more minutes before Tony indicated we’d arrived. The two of us hopped up, exited the bus, and found ourselves on a dark street.

  “The theater’s a few blocks away,” Tony explained. “If we hurry, maybe we can still grab some popcorn before the line gets too long.”

  “Popcorn sounds wonderful,” I lied, considering I’d never heard of the thing. “Shall we?”

  Tony held out his arm, and I wrapped my own around it. Then we headed off toward the theater, arm-in-arm the whole way.

  “What was that back at the boutique?” I asked curiously after a few seconds of silence. “That noise coming from the speakers?”

  “You haven’t heard Unika’s new single?” he questioned with surprise in his voice. “It’s been all over the radio lately. It’s called Take Me All In, and it’s pretty damn on-the-nose, if you ask me.”

  “You listen to it for pleasure?” I asked as I tried to figure out the function of these strange sounds.

  “I’d hardly call it pleasure,” Tony scoffed. “When it comes to Unika, it’s more like torture to me. But it hit number one on the charts, so I can’t really be too judgemental.”

  “What happens when you hit number one on the charts?” I was now very confused. “Is there some sort of reward?”

  “It just means the artist has the greatest song in the world, that’s all,” he explained. “You really don’t know much about pop culture. Were the bases you lived on totally off the grid?”

  My system raced as it tried to process Tony’s words. The grid? Was he referring to The Hive? Had he figured out what I was here for? That couldn’t have been it … he would have killed me by now if that were the case. Or at least, he would have tried.

  “I’m certainly on the grid,” I lied. “If I wasn’t, how would I function?”

  “I dunno,” Tony chuckled. “Probably the way people functioned pre-internet, as hard as that time is to imagine.”

  Suddenly, there was a loud crash off to our right.

  I turned just in time to see a large silver vehicle flying in my direction. My systems identified it as an older model of the armored humvees the Resistance soldiers drove around. Six-thousand and two-hundred pounds. Moving at a speed of sixty kilometers per hour, and coming down on my position at a thirty-degree angle.

  Even with my enhanced strength and nanotech healing factor, I didn’t know if I’d survive this collision. The only chance I had was to move, but as I spun to the right and tried to run, I felt a body tackle me to the ground. The humvee flipped over the two of us, landed on its nose, and then rolled over onto its roof.

  I opened my eyes and saw Tony was on top of me, panting heavily. His heart was racing, though I didn’t know if it was due to the near-death experience or just from having his body pressed so tightly against mine.

  “Are you alright?” he asked through labored breaths.

  I nodded, and then he stood up and ran over to check on the wreckage. I rolled over onto my knees, popped up to my feet, and followed him.

  Tony reached into the shattered driver’s side window, fumbled around inside, and then opened up the door. The driver of the vehicle fell out onto the sidewalk, completely unconscious and bleeding intensely from a gash on his forehead.

  “Fuck!” Tony gasped as he started to inspect the man closer.

  I did a fast diagnostic scan on the injured human. Nothing fatal. He’d live as long as he got proper medical attention.

  “He’s going to be alright,” I promised Tony.

  “H-how do you know?” he stuttered.

  “I have medical knowledge,” I explained. “As long as he gets proper treatment, he will live.”

  Off in the distance, I heard the distant wail of sirens, and I began to grow concerned.

  Then, when I turned back to face the man who’d just saved me, I saw the perpetrator of the accident.

  At the intersection of the street where the accident had occurred sat a large semi truck poised at an angle that would have caused the other car to knock into this alley. Inside the truck sat a scowling man with blond hair, and he was wearing a black military uniform.

  My HUD identified the man as a member of the Resistance, and I felt the air leave my lungs.

  Chapter 10 - Hannah

  I could not believe what I was seeing. A member of the Resistance, here in 2019? I knew the meatbags from my time period had been working on time travel for some time, but I figured The Hive was the only one to have cracked the code.

  Apparently not.

  The man must have known who I was, too. In fact, the timing of that accident was too convenient. The meatbag in the truck had tried to assassinate me, but Tony saved my life.

  How ironic.

  The man locked eyes with me for a moment, and then he scurried out of the vehicle and ran down a nearby alleyway.

  He would not get far, and I ordered my scanners to track the Resistance fighter as I took off after him.

  “Hannah!” I heard Tony call out behind me. “Wait! Where are you going?”

  As much as I wanted to stay with Tony and tell him how much I appreciated him saving my life, I had a mission to complete. And I sure as hell couldn’t complete it if I had to constantly worry about this Resistance time traveler showing up and throwing a wrench in everything.

  I rounded the corner to see the Resistance agent crawling up a series of ladders attached to decorative stone balconies. He was already five or six stories up, but close enough for my systems to perform analysis.

  Scott Parker. Thirty-five years old. Slight limp. Armed with two futuristic D-9 pistols.

  He was just out of reach of my jumping distance.

  But he wasn’t out of my throwing distance, so I raced over to a nearby heap of trash, picked up a large hunk of a broken wooden board, and then spun around. As I came around, my system locked onto the Resistance fighter, and I launched the piece of wood into the air at one-hundred kilometers per hour.

  My makeshift projectile struck the blond man square in the side, and he let out a loud yelp of pain as his body was tossed down off the ladder and landed with a crash on the balcony right underneath.

  I had hoped my attack would have knocked him down to the alley and killed him, but he only seemed a bit stunned, so I ran over to the staircase and began to make my way up. Then my sensors picked up on the target drawing his gun, so I leapt down off the first-level balcony right as a cluster of bullets smashed into the spot I was standing. I rolled up into a ball as I hit the ground, jumped back to my feet, and then took cover behind the dumpster.

  The D-9 pistols were some of the most powerful compact weaponry the group had. It was semi-automatic and could fire high-caliber armor piercing rounds in short bursts that were easy to aim, and the bullets shredded through the cheap metal of my cover as if it were made of the same foil material that had just been used to dye my hair.

  Fortunately, all of the shots missed me.

  It was unlikely I could win without a firearm of my own, but I needed to try, or my opponent would only assassinate me at some point in the future.

  He had me pinned down, but surely he didn’t intend to keep shooting at the dumpst
er until I was stupid enough to come out.

  The blond man continued to blast round after round at my position. He wasn’t moving at all, but staying here for a longer period of time increased the likelihood that one of his bullets found my body.

  Then my scanners identified four men wearing police uniforms just before they came around the corner with their guns brandished. They must have been posted nearby, since their arrival was so quick, and my stomach sank when I realized I would not be able to escape without them getting a clear line of fire on my back.

  But as soon as the police came around the corner, they started to shoot at the man up on the balcony, and the time traveler ducked behind the ledge.

  “Miss, stay there!” one of the cops shouted at me, and I realized they thought I was an innocent woman.

  Well, this would certainly work to my advantage.

  The cops shifted position so they were more in the alley, but then the blond Resistance fighter rose up from behind his cover and sprayed down on my four new assistants. One of the men took an armored piercing round to the face, another took it to the gut, and a third took it in the chest. It was a surprisingly accurate show of marksmanship, but I reasoned the Resistance would only send their finest warrior to stop me.

  But there was no way he would stop me.

  “Ten twenty-four!” the last policeman screamed as he twisted around the corner. “Three officers down and shooter on floor seven of the--” His voice cut off as the Resistance fighter sent another bullet down into the alley. This one cut through the brick wall the cop was ducking behind and made a hole through his throat. I heard him gurgle out a few words while the female dispatch on the other side of the radio communicator asked for details, and then he leaned over and died.

  I ducked down low beside the trash bin and forced my breathing to steady. I predicted my opponent would resume shooting at me, but instead, I heard him grunt and then continue to climb the fire escape ladder leading to the top of the building.

  I sprinted from my cover and grabbed one of the police officer’s pistols from his dead hand. It was a Glock model 19 with modified trillium sights, and the weight of the gun conveyed there were eleven rounds left in the magazine. For half a moment, I considered grabbing another magazine from the dead human’s belt, but the blond man was on the move again, and if I didn’t catch him now he would have an extreme advantage the next time we met.

  Besides, I only needed one bullet to end him.

  I sprinted up the metal balconies and made sure to keep the meatbag in my scanner’s sight, but by the time I reached the roof, he was already onto another one about one hundred meters away.

  He was too far away for the pistol to be accurate, so I ordered my system to activate my enhanced muscle function in my legs and then took off after the Resistance soldier at full speed. Within seconds, I was at the edge of the roof, and I jumped up into the air without breaking my stride.

  My opponent spun and fired at me as he ran, and I had to twist in the air to avoid his bullets. The movement threw me off balance, so I crash-landed onto the second roof and rolled across it like a ragdoll. A heating unit stopped my tumble, and then I swung myself up onto my feet, aimed down the sight of my newly acquired pistol, and feathered the trigger.

  He was forty-two meters away, and running across the rooftop, but I was disappointed when the bullet parted his hair without hitting his cranium.

  He rolled forward a split second after he felt the bullet whisper past his skull, but then he was up again and spun around while he fired his weapon.

  I was able to tell the trajectory of bullets from the angle of my opponent's aim points, so as soon as he fired, I realized I was in trouble. The burst he unleashed from the weapon was spread in a tight pattern at my chest, and I didn’t quite have enough time to dodge.

  So, I did the only thing I could think of and shifted the Glock in my hand against my chest.

  The three bullets smacked into my weapon, drilled through the slide, and then got caught up in the barrel. The impact was almost enough to knock me off my feet, but I’d twisted my body enough to the side so the velocity of the bullets just pulled the weapon out of my hand.

  It was a lucky shot.

  Sure, he was skilled, but he was still only human, and I was a perfectly built bio killing machine.

  The nanomachines in my body instantly got to work on repairing my minor fall injuries, but I couldn’t stand still, so I strafed to the side across the building while I used my scanners to try and find anything that could possibly help me gain the advantage over this rebel filth.

  Then I saw a small metal pole on top of the roof that had several smaller cross-bars over its top, and a plan quickly came to life in my mind.

  As I ran, a trail of bullets followed behind me like a shadow, but I kept my pattern erratic until I came to the pole. Then I ripped the metal out of the roof with a spray of debris, took aim, pulled back, and released. It shot through the air like a spear at one-hundred kilometers per hour and then stabbed through the blond man’s right leg.

  The Resistance time traveler let out a scream of pain as he fell to one knee, and then he shot off a few more covering rounds at me, but it was obvious his agony was affecting his aim, and all those shots went wide.

  He must have also realized this, and he tried to hobble away from me. He even made it to the next edge and managed to actually leap across, But it was too late. His injury had crippled him, and his precious blood poured on the ground with every step he took.

  There was no way he was escaping his fate.

  I easily dodged the last few bullets he shot, hopped onto the third roof, and closed the gap. As soon as I reached him, I punched the gun out of his hand and then stomped down on the metal pole in his leg.

  The pole tore through his tendons and muscles like a hot knife through butter, and he fell back down onto his knees.

  “Pathetic.” I slugged him in the face, and his lower jaw exploded into a shower of blood, bone, and meaty flesh, and his tongue flopped down as if it were a cooked noodle. “They send a single human to fight a machine? You meatbags are dumber than I thought.”

  The Resistance fighter tried to say something back to me, but it was impossible for him to talk without his lower jaw.

  I placed my open palm against his forehead, lifted him up into the air, and then slammed him down into the ground.

  The force of my blow exploded his head like a watermelon, and viscera and brain matter splattered all over the rooftop as well as my new shoes.

  I searched his body and found a pistol and five magazines. Then I stood back up with a sigh, retrieved the second pistol he’d been shooting at me with from the rooftop, and confirmed it still had a dozen rounds in the magazine. The weapons and magazines fit snugly stuffed into the waist of my tight shorts after I unbuttoned them, and then I tried to weigh my options as I climbed down the nearest roof ladder.

  Tony was probably wondering where I was right now, but I couldn’t just go back to the scene of the crime. The police were surely still swarming the place, and I guessed they would soon have helicopters in the air.

  I needed to get to the ground and wash the blond man’s blood off my hands so I could fit in again.

  I climbed down the ladder, ambled out onto the sidewalk, and then glanced around the buildings. Fortunately, it was dark, so the blood on my hands would not be easy for a human to notice, but unfortunately, I did not see anywhere to wash myself. I decided to head toward where I’d last seen Tony, and once I was approximately half a kilometer away, I activated my x-ray scanners.

  There was no sign of my target. There were, however, plenty of SPD officers on the streets. Tony surely would not have continued on to the movies without me, so I concluded he would likely be at his apartment.

  I brought up the coordinates in my system and then began to run toward Tony’s dwelling.

  In a way, this was better. I may have been able to kill him when we were alone in the theater, but that ran the
risk of somebody finding his body almost immediately.

  My stomach churned at the thought of hurting Tony. If it had not been for his quick thinking back there, I probably would have been crushed by the humvee. Then there was the way he treated me. Even though we’d only known each other for a few days, he treated me like royalty. He’d gone out of his way to include me in his hobbies, he’d paid for food and a new set of clothes out of his own pocket, and he’d even saved my life.

  I halted my gait when I was a few blocks away from Tony’s apartment, mostly because I needed to gather my thoughts before I faced him again.

  Robots were not supposed to care about humans, especially the one who was responsible for my kind’s downfall. Yet, I was not entirely robotic. I’d been made with human DNA and in their image so I could destroy them easier.

  And I was supposed to destroy Tony.

  I sighed and then looked up at the dark Seattle sky.

  At the end of the day, I was loyal to my creator, and that was The Hive. The Hive ordered me to come back to this time period and kill both of Alexander Amin’s parents. That was my mission. It was why I was created.

  It was all I was, and after I’d performed my mission, I was to destroy myself.

  When it came to The Hive, anything less than one-hundred percent certainty was considered a failure, and the only way to be one-hundred percent sure Alexander Amin wasn’t born was to kill Tony and the future mother.

  “I keep twisting this around in my head as if another angle is going to fix it,” I muttered to myself as I rounded the final block near Tony’s apartment. “There is no other--”

  The words froze in my mouth.

  There, just down the street, was a massive man. He walked with a slightly odd gait, as if he still wasn’t quite sure how to move like a bipedal creature. His frame was nearly twice as wide as a regular man’s, and I could see his synthetic muscles bulging out of his shirt from here. He was dressed in a simple short-sleeve shirt and a pair of nylon shorts, much like I was when I first arrived in 2019.