“Why the hell would you do that?” Julie asks.
Flaimeson bristles again at Julie’s tone but visibly forces himself to calm down and remain silent.
“It’s how Our Contest is conducted. They offered us an unmolested period to plan; we owe them the same. You should be happy. It shows how powerful you are.”
“Exactly, and we shouldn’t squander that advantage by announcing it.”
“I’m sorry you’re displeased, but the deed is done.”
“So it is,” Julie says.
She storms past Abel and Flaimeson and exits the bridge. She knows her emotions are hot. She needs to vent them. A thought crosses her mind, and she seeks out Power.
He’s not hard to find. Like most Templars, he spends his free moments mastering his augmentation in one of the hard light simulation rooms. Power is alone and transforms into a motorcycle with a tazdeve cannon in a side car. Power blazes past a dozen orange holograms that swing melee weapons or fire virtual pens at him. Julie has to admit to herself at how masterfully he takes down the targets.
The Knight Terror power cycle notices Julie and transforms back into Power, with robotic legs and a Malignant comfort suit.
“What the hell do you want?” Power demands.
“I have to vent some frustrations. Only three things do that for me: training, sex, and tormenting you. If we train together, I get double the stress reduced.”
“Leave me alone, Julie. Don’t think fancy knife tricks worry me anymore.”
“Why don’t you prove it then?”
Power walks threateningly toward Julie. He stops just in front of her.
“If we train, I’m likely to kill you.”
“You aren’t good enough to kill me, and you know it,” Julie counters.
Power swings a pitiful haymaker at her. Julie easily ducks beneath it. She lands a powerful jab on Power’s chest; the blow knocks the wind out of him, but Julie feels metal forming beneath his skin. She shakes her hand as she prepares for her next attack. Julie spin kicks and places her heel on Power’s jaw. The blow snaps his head back, but it marks the end of Julie’s advantage. Power armors his full body into his Knight Terror configuration.
Knight Terror swings at Julie. She dodges the first punch, but the second connects solidly with the left side of her face. Pain erupts in Julie’s head. She feels blood and loose teeth swirl in her mouth moments before she senses her head ricochet off the white mats that used to be beneath her feet.
To his credit, Knight Terror doesn’t beat the fallen Julie mercilessly, despite her knowing he wants to. Instead, the former subordinate transforms back to Power and crosses his arms as he stands over her.
Julie spits the pieces of three broken teeth from her mouth and moans as she wills herself back onto her feet. It’s a lost cause, and she settles for being able to sit. Her stomach is sick with defeat and pain. Power turns to go back to his planned training session.
“Does that make things right between us?” Julie asks.
Power stops. “What?”
“Did you finally get the catharsis that you so desperately needed? We must be able to work together. Are we good?”
Power turns back to face Julie.
“Bitch, we ain’t never gonna be good.”
“We have to be. Giving you this victory was plan A. All I have left is to sleep with you.”
Power glares at Julie. The woman looks back with a gaping maw of blood and dental atrocity. She’s aware of how unattractive she must look.
“No?” she says.
Julie now has the strength to stand.
“In that case, please allow me the opportunity to get Abel to send me to Kimmy. I’d prefer not to need dentures.”
“You still here, bitch?”
“Ever the gentleman.”
Julie leaves but puts some swing into her hips to taunt Power as he watches her leave.
Screams of terror and gunfire fill the night sky of the small island of Grenada. The small police force that protects the island converges on three augmented terrorists at the airport near the coast.
Vlad sighs with boredom as he easily dodges the shots of people who move one-eighth his own speed. He deftly weaves through a platoon of protectors and separates limbs and heads with his silver kilij. One police officer catches Vlad unaware and fires six rounds into his back from his assault rifle. Vlad grimaces and turns to the man.
The man’s face is pure terror as the new wounds quickly seal up on the pale augment’s body. Vlad opens his mouth and exposes sharp teeth. He charges the man as bullets speed past his body. Vlad swings his sword low and cleaves the man just below both knees. As the police officer falls, Vlad catches him and bites into the throbbing veins in his neck. Vlad drinks profusely as the man slowly dies.
“That’s disgusting,” Vape says just before turning into a cloud and dissolving an official SUV and the three occupants inside it.
The flesh and metal combine into a putrid soup of pain and despair.
“It has to be done,” Vlad simply states. “How much longer do you suppose?”
Vlad’s question is directed toward Guntho. The Malignant officer doesn’t partake in the slaughter, but occasionally her body transforms into a beast of pure tar when a bullet is about to strike her. The bullets lose velocity and slide harmlessly and slowly down the ooze that becomes her body.
“I do not even know if your plan will equal success,” Guntho responds.
“It’ll work,” Vlad confirms. “We just need to make sure we allow enough of them to call for help. The media will pick up the story of the slaughter. The real question is whether your people care to grab us.”
As if on cue, a Malignant vessel resembling an elongated tear flying horizontally hovers over the trio.
“I hope you have a plan for this,” Vape says after abandoning the pursuit of a fleeing civilian. “We’ve cleared most of this island. If they didn’t get the message, this place is about to be much lonelier.”
The Malignant ship uses external communicators to speak with the Malignant sympathizers on the beach.
“Malignant, announce yourselves.”
Guntho turns the volume on her helmet’s speakers to their maximum volume.
“I am Commander Guntho, executive officer of the corvette Ahika. These two Malignant are Earthborn but adequate.”
“The Ahika equals failure,” the ship responds. “How did you get to the planet?”
“The failure was due to Gudz treachery. They had spies who allowed the ISH to board the ship and eliminate the crew. We escaped to report to Mother.”
“Mother will want to speak with you. Prepare for teleportation.”
“Optimal,” Guntho says.
She turns to Vlad and Vape.
“Time to go home. Do not speak to anyone unless spoken to. It will be unfortunate for you if you disobey me.”
The two augments nod their understanding. Moments later, the trio vanishes from the beach. The screams of the survivors continue long after the ship leaves.
Keith looks at a terrified Jenny on his tablet. She frantically rattles off comments throughout their video chat.
“Jenny, calm down. That was Grenada, not here.”
“For how much longer, baby? They killed hundreds, maybe thousands, just to call for a ride.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because they told survivors to tell the media that. They killed people because they were marooned.”
“Yeah, but Stitch says we have a year until we have to worry about any attack. The Templars got this.”
“Tell that to the people of Grenada! This is bad. We’re all gonna die.”
“We aren’t gonna die.”
“Yes, we are. It’s the end of the world.”
“No, it isn’t. Stitch told us how the r
ules work. We have a lot of time, and the Templars can handle it.”
“That was just bullshit, Keith! They said it so people wouldn’t panic. They’re gonna kill us all before the week is over. I can feel it. We’re gonna die.”
“Calm down. Do you need me to come over?”
“Is your dad home?”
“No, he’s in Colberton until Friday.”
“Then I’m coming to you. I need you to make me feel better, and in case I’m being too subtle, that means I need you to screw me into nirvana.”
“As much as I’d love to do that, I think maybe you should calm down first.”
“Not possible. Can I rely on you, or do I have to dig out Bob?”
“Who the hell is Bob?”
“My battery-operated boyfriend. You’ve met. We had a threesome, remember?”
“Jenny, come over, but let’s just talk, okay?”
“I don’t need to talk right now; I need to forget. Are you good for that?”
Keith sighs. He feels like it would be taking advantage of Jenny, but he also knows that she speaks her mind and means exactly what she says.
“Fine.” Keith sighs again. “Come over, but after, I’m giving you a long massage in a hot bath.”
“Whatever. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll see you—” Jenny terminates the video chat. “—soon.”
Keith tosses his tablet to the side and looks around the room. He decides that although twenty minutes isn’t enough time to clean up his entire room, he can at least use it to throw away the errant potato chip bags and take a deodorant bath. Keith begins his tasks.
“Get ready, here comes wave fourteen,” Votary says.
The weary Templar recruits lazily lean against each other as they wait for another onslaught of orange avatars representing their enemy. The large training floor randomizes its layout again. This time the Templars find themselves in what appears to be a war-torn and apocalyptic city. The simulation looks real and even provides the occasional rodent or vagrant.
“This time, I want you to use your powers to fight off the Malignant,” Votary says.
This is received well among the Templars, apart from Xibalba.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea for me,” Xibalba says. “I can’t control the demons that live in my smoke.”
“Wait, what?” Hide says. “Oh, hell no, I ain’t training with this guy if a devil is just going to rip me apart.”
“That won’t happen,” Votary simply states. “I won’t allow it.”
“It’s cool,” Xibalba says. “I’ll just try to hit one with this bident thingy. I almost skewered one last time and on the third time.”
“That’s pathetic,” Thumbnail says. “I’m the only one keeping a healthy body count.”
“Excuse me?” Mule says.
“My bad, Mule. You’re handling your own, too, but the rest of them suck.”
“We’d be doing a lot better if Catharsis got off her lazy ass and forced pain on them,” Hide accuses.
“Leave her alone,” Mag Pulse says. “She can’t hurt something that isn’t real.”
“Actually, she can,” Votary says. “She’s choosing not to.”
“What?” Mag Pulse says.
“Ha. What’s the matter, Romeo, you don’t know your boo as well as you think?” Hide teases.
Mag Pulse clenches his hands, but doesn’t fall for the bait again.
“Just use your smoke,” Julie instructs.
The trainees turn to see the Templar who surprised them all with her entrance.
“Use the smoke,” she continues, “to form a perimeter around the team. The rest of you fight any who get through.”
“That might work,” Xibalba says.
“You think?” Roids asks.
“It will,” Julie confirms.
“Time to find out,” Votary says and activates the next wave of attackers.
The Templars ready themselves again as dozens of orange marines charge the eight trainees.
“I’ll give it a go,” Xibalba hesitantly says.
He transforms his black armor with orange highlights into a thick, black, and acrid smoke. He gives a wide berth to his teammates and surrounds them with his new body. The smoke ring closes just as the first Malignant hits the limit. Votary programmed them with short swords as their only weapons.
The avatars are lifelike and scream as if they’re hurt. The sound of slaughter coming from inside the mysterious and obscuring smoke clearly frightens the seven Templars huddled inside the center of the circle. Julie and Votary watch the battle from behind safety glass as Votary uses an actual keyboard to increase the flow of Malignant when none are able to make it through the smoke circle.
“A keyboard?” Julie asks.
“I had Flaimeson make a few changes for those of us who can’t just figure things out like you.”
“The smoke screen appears to be working,” Julie comments.
“It does, but we need to know how many it can take.”
“What’s Thumbnail doing?”
Julie points at the Templar in canary yellow armor. He’s on a knee, drawing on a notepad with an actual pen. His drawing, a detailed masterpiece on close inspection, resembles an anti-aircraft gun with four barrels. Thumbnail reaches into the paper, pulls the weightless item out of the page, and sets it onto the floor.
“Watch this,” Votary says.
The gun quickly grows to its full size. Thumbnail immediately jumps into the gunner’s seat and fires in the direction that the Malignant came from before his vision was blocked by Xibalba’s smoke wall. The four cannons roar as 14.5mm shells pass through the smoke wall, then through the hard light constructs of the enemy.
Votary grins beneath his helmet as Julie nods at the possibilities.
“Amazing. Where were they when we boarded this ship?” Julie comments.
“On the ship, remember? Perhaps the prison escape should have been our first priority. Maybe Port would still be with us.”
Julie seems amazed as she watches the smoke ring endure. Occasionally a single Malignant breaches the interior of the smoke ring, but Mule is quick to pounce on them. Julie watches as the Templar shapeshifter merges a crab with an elephant and uses a giant pincer to cut the orange construct in half.
“That one looks to be a liability,” Julie says as she points out Catharsis.
The woman cowers in gray armor that resembles Votary. She holds her hands to her helmet while Roids attempts to comfort her. Neither woman seems concerned with the training event.
“She doesn’t belong here,” Votary says.
“Don’t be so certain. Her power has its uses.”
Votary activates the intercom to address the weary trainees. “That’s enough, Xibalba. Now fight without your safety net.”
It pleases Votary how quickly Xibalba obeys and transforms back into an armored man. Votary reduces the number of attackers so that each Templar has only one opponent. Votary then programs them to attack only a single rookie. The Templars wait for orders as they realize Votary is changing the simulation.
“Okay, Templars, each of you must now defeat your enemy and only your enemy. Don’t use any power that you’ve already displayed, but feel free to try a different approach. If that isn’t an option, use your melee weapon. I’ve increased their resistance, so losing will hurt. I suggest you don’t simply give up.”
The Templars wait for the Malignant to charge again. Hide even gives a cocky salute to the station with Votary and Julie.
Votary releases the Malignant avatars to attack their designated targets. The fight goes much as he suspects.
Xibalba swings erratically with his bident. The Malignant avatar uses his short sword to parry the attack, then impales Xibalba with the same blade. Xibalba screams as
the impact from the hard light assaults his nerves. Xibalba’s attacker vanishes, and the rookie Templar falls to his bottom as he waits for the other seven contests to end. He rubs the apparent phantom pains in his stomach as he watches.
Mule has the complete opposite result. He transforms his body into an armored octopus with a tiger’s face in the center and tiger paws with long claws on the end of all eight arms augmented by his garish, eighties-styled armor. Mule springs into the air, a florescent green and pink monstrosity, and spins toward the Malignant. His arms hit the avatar like a buzz saw and easily strip away layers of armor. Soon the orange construct falls to its knees. Mule shifts from the octo-tiger into a combination walrus-hippo. The girth and weight of this new combination is used to flatten the injured opponent.
Roids swings a sickle at her opponent to keep him from advancing. Like Xibalba, the swings are amateurish and easily avoided. She also quickly finds herself gasping on the floor after a quick defeat.
Swap tries to run behind the anti-aircraft gun that Thumbnail abandoned after told not to use it again. She jumps into the seat and fidgets with the controls as she tries to figure out how to traverse the chair toward her enemy. Just as she comprehends the controls, she screams. Votary briefly sees an orange sword protruding from her chest before it, and its owner, disappears.
Mag Pulse aggressively swings a long sword at his target and uses the additional length to his advantage. Although he’s not a master of the weapon, Mag Pulse does appear to have taken melee weapons training more seriously than his peers. He loses his footing after a feint, but this works in his favor as he falls below a swinging blade. Mag Pulse instinctively thrusts upwards and is rewarded with a pixilated enemy when his blade enters the avatar’s armpit.
Catharsis doesn’t even try to defend herself. She stays kneeling when a sword “decapitates” her. She screams briefly, but then replaces the noise with sobs instead.
Thumbnail hastily draws a Gudz assault rifle. Although the picture is crude, he still pulls out a fully operational model, albeit an ugly one. He aims at his opponent and pulls the trigger. The Malignant is defeated, but the additional pens fired nearly hit Mule. The older Templar is clearly quite upset with the lack of muzzle awareness by the Templar artist. Votary reminds himself to punish the group for easily forgetting about simple safety precautions.
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