Blackjack Wayward

Chapter Thirty-Two

No time to move, no time to think. These bots came at us fast.

The first came right up to me, and right when I cocked back a punch, it stopped, dodged the blow, grabbed my arm and hurled me spinning through the air. I slammed into a metal wall, leaving a deep indentation as I fell to the floor.

The rest collapsed on Focus, one taking a hold of her legs and another grabbing her broken arm. They meant to rip her apart, but she kicked one off, a bright flash of blue energy exploding from her leg, shattering the bot. The other twisted her broken arm and she shrieked in pain.

I hurled myself at the robot’s legs, bowling it over with my shoulder and rolling to my feet to punch another that was clawing at me from behind.

The robot still held her arm, and my attack had only served to spin the robot’s grasp, compounding the fracture like an alligator in a death roll.

Again she screamed, and I reached for the robot’s hand. I got a good hold and ripped it off the body, just as another bot came and grabbed her away.

Still more robots swamped me, coming between us so she was gone from my sight.

Once more she cried out and I lost it.

“No!” I yelled, taking a robot and hurling it into another, then punching a third and following up with a brutal kick into a fourth, but there was an army of them, and I had only damaged a few.

I jumped over a destroyed robot, heading toward Focus, and saw her in the grasp of a damaged one. It held her head in one tri-fingered claw and jabbed into her stomach with a pummeling fist. Something grabbed me, and I turned, punching the robot so hard it exploded; the concussion knocked me to the floor.

Getting up, I charged the robot grabbing Focus and threw myself at the back of its knees, taking the whole thing down.

It kept a hold of her head as we both came to our feet, so I lunged for the arm and twisted the whole thing off. Only then did the claw release Focus, whose fractured arm was like a sieve of blood.

“Get behind me,” I told her, herding her into a wall, turning on the remaining robots. We had our backs to a corner, the most defensible place in the dark room.

“Moe, time to end this! She’s badly hurt, man,” I yelled, hoping that this was some sick joke gone wrong. But I heard nothing from the speakers, whether that was because of Focus’ command to mute the audio from the control booth, or whether he was just content to watch us fight for our lives, I couldn’t tell.

The robots took a moment to readjust themselves, tossing aside those too damaged or destroyed and so giving them a clear battlefield. One stepped forward, engaging its solid-light emitter, changing its appearance.

It was Cool Hand.

“Skeet, skeet, B,” it said with an almost perfect matching voice. “You hit it and forget it.”

Then I realized it wasn’t a synthesized creation, but an actual recording of a real conversation Cool and I had on Shard World. I lowered my guard, aghast, my mind racing, and it struck me, slamming me back into wall.

“Concentrate,” Focus chided me through clenched teeth, fighting the agony from her arm. Her face was swollen from several blows, and she was cradling the broken, bloody arm over her stomach.

“How?” I yelled, launching myself at Cool Hand and throwing him back into the others, who checked his momentum.

“Hey, B. You must get mad tail, right? Check it,” he said, motioning to the injured Focus. Again, it was a recording of an actual conversation with Cool Hand, this time on Dr. Retcon’s Rocket Flyer.

Another phased and turned to Influx.

“Come on, Blackie. You’re no good to me if you can’t handle a little action,” she said, as if someone had been recording Influx and me on the helicopter after the U.S. Tower fight in L.A. She was sauntering toward me, toying with her platinum blonde hair, flashing a toothy smile, her eyes gathering me seductively.

“Oh, God,” I said, stumbling back as they circled us, coming closer and closer.

What was happening? Why did these things have actual recordings of what had occurred? Did Superdynamic gather all this stuff off the base and the Rocket Flyer? Had he hacked into Retcon’s databases in the aftermath of Hashima?

Another one phased, this time into Apogee.

“I have an idea,” she said, smiling, reaching out her hand. “I’m Madelyne.”

Was this a dream? Did I ever really get out?

“Blackjack!” Focus screamed, snapping me out of it, and I looked back at her tear-streamed face. “The safeties are disengaged. The robots are trying to kill us,” she said, but her face grew worried when she looked at me. “You have to stop them or we’re dead!”

“It’s you and me,” Apogee said. “You’re all I have, you know?”

She looked so real, so beautiful and available, walking toward me among the throng of robots. I had forgotten how lovely she was, how her hair danced on her shoulders, the fullness of her lips, the fire in her eyes...

No. The eyes were dead.

I blinked a few times to make sure, but yeah, it was the bot, like the Epic-bot; close enough to real, but something was missing, something crucial.

Near the end of our ordeal, just before the final fight on Hashima, Madelyne’s tone with me had changed. Her eyes held me, loved me. She may not have said it, but her body, her face was broadcasting it loud and I was just too stupid to notice. It was only evident now, as the lifeless robot did its best to emulate what she had felt for me through a complex A.I. algorithm.

She reached out for me, as the others parted to give her a clear path. As she placed her lovely hands on my shoulders, I punched her so hard her head came off.

The solid-light display faded, revealing a head-less robot.

“F*ck you,” I snarled, feeling the fire that was burning in my belly start to overflow, to rise up and make my blood boil.

I lifted the robot’s body and threw it at the next one, the Cool Hand Luke wannabe. In my rage, my strength returned, unblemished, and the Apogee robot flew from my fingertips as if shot out of a howitzer, crushing both.

“F*ck you, motherf*ckers!”

Another came closer, Influx, clawing at my suit. I caught her arm and spun, throwing all my weight into it. She flew through the air, over the onrushing robots, and crashed against the ceiling about fifty feet from me, exploding into a shower of flame and spare parts.

I bull-rushed the nearest, bringing it down, and hurled myself in the air, landing on its chest and crushing the cavity down on itself. A robot grabbed me, pulling me away, and I turned with a haymaker ready.

“F*ck YOU!” I roared, hearing the harrowing echo of my voice in the small training chamber. My punch gutted the robot’s chest like a spear. I grabbed something inside and used it like a boxing glove, swinging a powerful right at the nearest robot, then a left that knocked yet another off its feet. I stomped its chest, destroying it, and swung my arm so the boxing glove slid off, flying through the air to crumple yet another.

I didn’t wait, flying at the next one, knocking it down. Reaching around the head area, I ripped the thing’s head off, tossing it aside, and put my fists together, rocking them back as far as I could. The robot must have known what was coming, because it flayed at me with its claws, but nothing could stop me. My fists came down, right where its heart would be, destroying the thing in a massive explosion.

Picking it up the steaming robot, I ignore the scalding metal at my fingertips, using the robot as missile. It flew through the air, slamming into the one that was coming at me from the flank. With a churning of raw metal, both automatons exploded.

A few more remained, hanging back. Their hands retracted with a graceful twist, revealing twin assault cannons. I dove back at Focus as they opened fire, forcing her into a ball despite her protesting screams, and cradling her beneath me.

The robots unleashed a fusillade, peppering my body, tearing into the wall and floor, filling my area with shrapnel and stray fire. I had my back to them, screaming in pain as each bullet tore at my skin, eager to break through and rip my insides. The rounds weren’t strong enough to penetrate my skin, and despite the pain, I was able to create a mini-cocoon of safety for the smaller Focus. She gripped my chest, screaming as I pressed her into the crevice between the wall and floor, my body the only thing keeping the bullets from killing her instantly.

The gunfire went on for what seemed like a full minute, until they ran out of ammo. I turned to catch them readjusting their hand weapons and charging in my direction.

One sported a pair of flamers, another a laser torch and a holding claw, and the third two diamond-carbide tipped chainsaws.

I had no time to hesitate, running right at the flamer robot, angling away from Focus so she wouldn’t get caught in the pyre.

The thing lit me up as I reached it, but I jumped in the air, in part to avoid the majority of the flames, and landed on its chest. Grabbing down at its head, I almost ripped it out when the second one grabbed me from behind and lanced at my back with the laser torch.

I screamed but didn’t let go of the robot’s head, tearing it from the base of the neck as the momentum carried me back into the one that was grabbing me, knocking it down. It held onto me with the claw, but I reached over, bending the individual claw fingers out and sliding free. I turned and punched straight down, destroying it.

“Blackjack!” Focus screamed, and I saw her scrambling away from the third robot. It slashed at her with the chainsaws and was almost upon her.

“No!” I yelled, knowing I had no time to rush it. Standing, I grabbed the headless flamer robot and hurled it with all my might. The thing spun in the air, slamming into the chainsaw robot and crushing both into the wall.

And with that, all the robots were destroyed.

I ran over to Focus, noticing blood trailing from her leg. She had a pretty bad slash across her left calf where the chainsaw had torn her skin apart, and her arm was awash with crimson.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, picking her up.

Her face was pale from blood loss and she was shaking, suffering shock from the overall pain she had endured.

I carried her over to the door and paused, hearing a small knocking at the other end of the two massive double doors. They were as thick as the walls in the room, and suddenly I felt a twinge of pain lance up my fist, a latent memory of the last time I’d had to bring down a wall of this caliber.

The knocking was persistent, but soft, far away. I figured someone was trying to get inside, but whoever had tampered with the safeties had meant for Focus and me to be left undisturbed.

I put her down. “Give me a second,” I said, and I strode over to the door.

The gap between the two doors was substantial, though there was an internal bevel that didn’t allow me to see through. I squeezed my fingers in there, ripping at the metal and trying to get a handhold.

Then I went at it, feeling my back muscles come to life, my deltoids and traps straining. The metal groaned and came apart a few inches, giving me hope, and I let out a roar to focus my anger into what I was doing.

As I did, the joints in the wall sputtered, grinding against the hinges, cracking at the seams. The two doors spread farther apart and I was able to adjust my grip, slipping myself inside the two doors, pressing my hands on one door and my back against the other.

My screams and the echoing of cracking metal were as one, and the doors slowly slid farther and farther from each other. The growing gap allowed me fit inside completely, each hand now pushing a side away. It was taking forever, but in a fit of rage, I forced the two massive doors flying on their railing, grinding back into the wall. They were mangled and misshapen, bent inward along the middle where I had handled them.

Standing in front of me, dumbfounded, were the remaining members of Superdynamic’s group and almost two dozen security guards.

“She’s hurt,” I said, reaching back for Focus and picking her up.

Superdynamic was on me in an instant, taking her from my arms and placing her on the ground. Beams of light exploded from his armor, caressing her body, taking a moment to scan each injury.

“She’s got some internal damage near her liver, Chen,” he told Mirage, who snapped a murderous glance in my direction before going to work on Focus. His healing abilities sealed the bleeding wounds to stabilize her before he turned his attention to her injured midsection.

“Get them to Medlab,” Superdynamic said, nodding to Templar. The kid was in full gear, armor ready and the ridiculously huge sword slung on his back.

He stepped near to Focus and Mirage, muttering something unintelligible as a spattering of light enveloped him. Silver ribbons embroidered with magical runes encircled him and the two others, spinning around the three and obscuring them from us. When the ribbons faded, Templar, Mirage, and Focus were gone.

“Will she be all right?” Moe asked.

“Hang on,” Superdynamic said, raising his hand. “What happened?”

Moe shook his head, “I was in the booth, man. I don’t know.”

“You had nothing to do with that?” I asked, already knowing the answer. He might not like me, he might even want to see me take a beating, but Moe wasn’t a killer, and he would never put Focus in danger like that. Besides, his face was awash with anguish; he was almost in tears.

“You really think I would do that shit?”

“No,” I admitted after letting the question dangle in the air for a few seconds. “I just had to see the look on your face when I asked.”

“I would never, man. F*cking ever!”

“Take it easy, Moe. No one is accusing you of anything.”

“Those things almost killed her, you know what I’m saying?”

I nodded. “I was there.”

“I mean, that girl....” he paused, overcome with emotions.

“Moe, I just had to know.”

He shook his head, his face pinched in a grimace, heedless of the tears streaming from his eyes, spilling onto his cheeks, catching in his beard.

“Somehow the safeties were disabled,” Superdynamic said, his mind racing through the possibilities, less concerned with Moe’s anguish.

“The whole room flashed a minute,” Moe managed. “Then the lights went out, and I saw the whole complement of robots deploy. I tried the override. I even tried cutting power to the whole wing. I couldn’t do shit from up there, so I hit the alarm and came down here to try and open the doors.”

Superdynamic shook his head. “We’ve had some weird things happening since you got here, Blackjack,” he said, and before I could snap back, he added, “No one’s suggesting you had anything to do with it. You were in as much danger in there as Focus. But it’s too deliberate to be coincidence. I’ve noted thirty-seven other anomalous incidents in the time you’ve been in the tower.”

“You think they put something on me?”

He shrugged. “I scanned you pretty well.”

“Maybe we should debug the training room’s programming code, eh?” Ruby suggested.

Moe nodded, wiping his nose with his hand. “I’ll get on that right now,” he said and loped off.

“It’s just you and me, man,” I told Superdynamic. “Was that you? All those f*cking anomalies, all the weird glitches, that’s too much of a coincidence.”

He smiled. “I’m a much more straightforward person, Blackjack. If I had a problem with you, I have four or five weapons in my suit that could vaporize you.”

“That’s real classy.”

“Listen, and I hope this gets through to you, okay? There’s only one reason I haven’t resorted to knocking you out with a whale tranquilizer and popping you back into the Utopia mainframe, and–”

“What reason?”

“What?”

“What’s the reason you’re being so f*cking benevolent?”

Superdynamic sighed. “I made a promise.”

Ricochet walked over to us, looking at mass of bullet and scorch marks on my back, “Maybe we should get Blackjack to Medlab.”

“I’m fine,” I said, more defensively than I wanted.

“No, he’s right,” Superdynamic said. “Ruby, get him to Medlab and run a deep tissue scan to make sure there’s nothing on him.”

Superdynamic looked at me, though what was going on behind his face shield, I couldn’t tell. I could only see the lower part of his face and couldn’t ascertain anything from his weird mouth twitches except that he was tense.

“Thanks, by the way,” Superdynamic said.

I shook my head, not knowing what the hell he was talking about.

“You saved her life,” he said.

“Not bad for a scumbag villain,” Ricochet said, meaning it to be a joke, but he lowered his head at my glare.