I consider this for a moment, my head bobbing left and right. “Fine, Jim it is, so six of us.”
“Why do I know that I’m going to regret saying this?” Sophia hovers just a little bit higher up, her arms crossed over her chest, utter disdain across her face. “I’ll join them too.”
“Good!” I clap my hands together. “It’s not quite the magnificent seven, but it ain’t far off.”
Chapter Ten
“Listen up, troops,” I tell the motley crew gathered before me. “This is going to be a real shit show, and by shit show, I mean that there are over one hundred Reapers down there, our intelligence courtesy of Sophia’s green Odin raven, or whatever the hell you call it. You know our plan now, and you will execute our plan to its fullest extent.”
“Lookin’ forward to squashing some heads,” says Croc, flexing his muscles.
“This should be fun,” says Chrono, his big hammers now in his hands.
“Can we get this over with?” asks Sophia, floating at her usual passive-aggressive level, so she can look down her nose at us. The white-skinned high elf with Western features is yet again on my last nerve, which is a normal place for her to be.
“You know, Staff Sergeant Wang, here I am trying to rally the troops…”
It’s true, I’m in my Patton WWII outfit, item 244, not giving a flying flip about the fact that we’re outnumbered big league, that I’ve got big shoes to fill, and that with Doc busy I’m in charge of strategy.
And I don’t like being interrupted.
“Well, since Staff Sergeant Wang has decided to shit on our fun, I guess will get down to it. Burley, here’s item 90, my Deathly Hallows invisibility cloak. Jim…”
“Yes! Yes, sir, Mr. Hughes.”
“Quantum.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Quantum, sir!”
“For crying out loud, Jim, you really like that joke, don’t you?”
The Mondegreen doorman, concierge, receptionist, and for all I know, janitorial staff, offers me a shit-eating grin. “You figured it out?”
“I sure as hell did, about three hundred days ago. But we’ll deal with that later. This little bad boy is for you.” I equip item 565, my Slice Bang, and hand it to him in a gentlemanly fashion.
“I can cut and shoot…”
“And that’s what I expect you to do. Also, what’s with the Iraq War get-up?”
Jim is 100% Operation Desert Eagle in his tan camo, dozens of pockets, and leather boots. He looks good, like he’s about to give Fallujah the ass-whooping that place deserves, but he doesn’t really blend into our surroundings.
Did I mention that Ultima Thule is cold? The yoshis running around one hill over get it, their bodies covered in fur that they stripped off what looks to be a samsquanch. Can’t tell from here.
Point is, it’s frigid, not quite a walk-in cooler, which on a side note are great for hanging bodies, but it ain’t warm, and it definitely ain’t desert-y.
“Sophia, I know you’ve got a ton of wowsie-wow mindly powers that I’m unaware of, you got anything you can cast on Jim over here that changes him from Shock and Awe to the First Arctic Oil War?”
“So white, you are asking for white camo?” she asks, parsing through what to her seems like a foreign tongue.
“Yep, the color of snow and good cocaine.”
“Cocaine!” Dirty Dave shouts, hardly able to contain himself.
“He’s right, it’s a helluva drug.”
Sophia considers what I’ve just said, and eventually nods in agreement. She snaps her fingers, changing Jim’s clothing white so it’s something out of a Bond flick now, which gives me an idea...
“And for me, Quantum?” asks Dirty Dave, his black holes for eyes quivering. “You got something for me?”
“Aside from a referral to a tattoo removal specialist, because really, Dave, a Thulean tattoo? Who gets one of those?”
“I have one on my lower back,” says Sophia.
“So a tramp stamp...”
Sophia rises just a little higher. “Excuse me?”
Chrono snorts. Of those gathered, he’s the only one I’m not dishing out gear to. The man’s silver hammers are plenty ‘nuff to crack some skulls. I also don’t have anything for Croc; the big man has already equipped a pair of spiked brass knuckles.
“Never mind, Dirty Dave, I’ve had a little trouble deciding what I can give the man that has everything, but I’ve come to a conclusion that I think you will appreciate.”
“Go on…”
“This little gear right here turns into a giant Steam Enforcer,” I tell him as I show him item 569, the gear Sir Steampunk the Stuffy gave me.
“I’ve heard of these,” Dave says as he examines the object.
“And like the plan I’ve already laid out, you’ll be in charge of dealing with the three mechs they got down there.”
“With pleasure!”
“I agree, it will be pleasurable. Wish I could switch you roles, but me and my Reason Railgun, item 459, got other plans. Everyone remember what to do?”
“Ready,” says Dirty Dave.
“Aye!” shouts Burley, who’s now invisible.
Jim pumps his Slice Bang in the air. “Let’s do this, Mr. Quantum, sir!”
“Jim…”
“You say when to smash, and I’ll smash.” Chrono brandishes both his hammers.
“It’ll be glorious, mate,” says Burley.
“Where the hell did you go?”
I feel a tap on my left shoulder and I swivel at the hip. “Yeah, yeah, you’re invisible now.”
“This is going to be bloody fun!”
~*~
Everyone in place, I crank up the Reason Railgun and give the Reaper and Marauder flank a blast they don’t see coming. It cuts through the middle of their troops, half of whom are sitting around, not quite the good soldiers they’re supposed to be.
Skull masks sizzle, air hisses out of the Marauders, snow melts instantly, and there’s a lot of panic before I hit Strata’s B Team with another blast.
Me: More are logging in.
Sophia: I can see that!
Chrono: We’ve got this!
I try to fire off one more blast, but the railgun is blazing hot, overpowered, so I get ready for part two, which begins with an invisible wave storming through their ranks, a rugby charge if there ever was one, Reapers and Marauders flying into the air as Burley storms through my cloak of invisibility followed by Croc, who’s giving out knuckle sandwiches like they’re on sale for happy hour.
I see everyone’s least favorite Mind Mage floating in my peripheral vision, her head bowed forward, a whole lotta yada yada coming out of her tight little mouth as she casts a spell over a group of Marauders hitting the air.
These Marauders hover for a moment, and turn back to the battle, the indicators over their heads signaling that they’ve changed sides. She gives me the thumbs up as her mutant hack, the claws Doc gave her, materialize on her fingers.
“I want to get up close and personal,” she calls down to me.
“By all means, Sophia, get in there and show them who’s boss. If you can’t do that, at least channel your hatred for me!”
“I don’t hate you,” she says, floating before me for just a moment. “I don’t like you, but I don’t hate you. I don’t see what Frances sees in you, but I too have had a bad boy or two in my life. So maybe it’s that. But anyway, I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you.”
Rocket: WTF is going on here? Why is she calling you a bad boy? What is this about Frances? Who has Sophia ever dated? So many questions.
I wait for Sophia’s response. When it doesn’t appear on my pane of vision, I figure Rocket is contacting me on a private channel.
“Thanks for calling me a bad boy,” I tell her with a grin. “Good luck down there!”
She nods and turns to the battle.
Rather than process the warm and fuzzy feelings in my stomach due to the fact that I’ve, in a way, been complimented by Sophia
, I go with my BFG 9000, item 100; Cyclops’ visor, item 207; Wolverine’s claws, item 145, and I strap item 33 to my leg, my Bowie knife.
Gonna be one hell of a fight, and if you’re thinking I don’t have time for a superhero landing, you’d be thinking wrong. I leap off the cliff that I’ve been standing on, get a little boost in the air due to my AA Bar, and prepare for my landing.
A Reaper mech tries to swipe me out of the air, his big metal hand covered in sharp protrusions. With the AA bar still giving me all the juice I need to avoid getting bitch-slapped, I lift up, take a few ballerina steps along the outside edge of the mech’s thumb, and ride it as the mech’s hand comes forward.
Not quite the cavalry, but all the cavalry I need, takes shape in the form of our own mech, Dirty Dave at the wheels.
I knew Dirty Dave had a hard knock life, anyone born in the Marcy Projects could tell you that, but I didn’t think this would be evident while he was in a mech. But there he is, his stance that of a fighter used to a lifetime of scraping by, his towering steam bot’s right arm twitching.
“See yah,” I tell the Reaper mech as I hop off its hand, firing off a blast with my BFG 9000 that forms a crater beneath me, propelling me even higher.
My right hand to the side, Wolverine’s claws exposed, I cut through a few Marauders, still getting used to the fact that Cyclops’ blaster makes everything red.
Speaking of which…
With my clawed hand, I press the side of the mask, leveling one of the smaller mechs with a thick beam of red energy.
More blasty-blasty to my left as I take a few action-movie-sideways-pot-shots at a group of skull-faced heels each trying to cut me down.
No such luck, especially when a hammer thrown by Chronos rips through their ranks.
The hammer returns to Chronos’ hand, and as if he’s auditioning for the role of Kratos in the HuluFlix live action God of War series, the bearded blacksmith leaps into the air, roids out, and brings the hammer down onto the ground, creating a wave that knocks at least twenty Reapers to the ground.
A few actually log out after this, the pansies, and a few wish they’d logged out after Jim runs through slicing and banging, the doorman getting out eight years of aggression from being bullied by Yours Truly.
Not proud of it, but seeing him rage now makes me think it was all worthwhile. The doorman stabs a Marauder, uses his heel to pull his blade out, spins, fires a shot over Chrono’s shoulder, both of them watching each other’s backs as they cut through the ranks.
It’s a beautiful sight, Dirty Dave in his Steam Enforcer stomping Reapers like they’re grapes, invisible Burley in his Casper the not-so-friendly ghost act, Croc playing whack-a-mole with anyone stupid enough to approach him, Sophia commanding a group of Marauders and melting peoples’ skins off, Chrono and Jim the WWE Tag Team Champions of the world as they open up several cans of whoop-ass on Strata’s minions.
“We’ve got this!” I shout, blasting another Reaper with my visor.
I hit the ground running, item 198, my hand-held M134 minigun, spitting metal, casings flying all around me.
It’s just when we’re finishing the battle, or so we think, that four Reapers ride in on Horizon Zero Dawn sawtooths, the mechanized sabretooth tigers snapping their metal teeth and firing off drones that immediately lay chase to Chrono and Jim.
Rather than ask where Aloy is when I need her, I decide to bring these bastards down with fire.
Item 83, my flammenwerfer, takes shape in my paws; my firefighter’s helmet, item 115, pixilates on my face; and I go with my AUS hose gun sans Reaper hack, item 566, in my other, figuring fire and a little melty-melt never hurt nobody.
“I’ve got the sawtooths!” I shout, and since no one can hear me, I also fire this off in a message to Sophia and Chrono.
Sophia: You sure like being the hero, don’t you?
Me: It’s just a day job. At night I’m an UberLyft driver. Kidding.
Chrono: It’s so cool the American government pays you to play video games.
Me: Sort of. Actually, no. And I thought we went over this before. Sophia, Frances, Rocket and Doc get paid, but I don’t get paid, even though I’m technically in charge. Weird how that works. Shit, I’m supposed to be fighting mechanized sabretooth tigers right now. We’ll discuss my salary in detail later, because after today, I’m looking to get a raise.
Sophia: Only you can give yourself a raise.
Me: I thought only I can shit myself. That’s what Rocket always says.
Rocket: I see that my name’s been mentioned twice. Once more and I’ll spawn and help out!
Me: Instead of doing that, how about updating us on Frances and Doc’s progress.
Rocket: You want me to get Frances on the horn?
I whip a stream of fire at the first sawtooth, roaring as I do so.
Frances Euphoria: I’m here. I’ve been monitoring the fight while Doc and Aiden get into position. Please focus on the fight, and be careful, Quantum. Those sawtooths have tech I haven’t seen before.
Tell me about it. The first sawtooth’s cutting through the battlefield like it’s nobody’s business. Luckily, I’m juicing the AA, giving me ample time to dodge and chat.
Me: Just call me Turok.
Doc: Nice try, but sawtooths aren’t dinosaurs.
Me: Wait, is everyone on this channel?
Doc: Yes, and you should be fighting right now, not chatting.
“Real gamers do both,” I say, as I crack a Reaper under the chin with the nozzle of my hose gun. It doesn’t hurt as badly as I’d like, but activating my AA bar and throwing the nozzle in the air while going for my Bowie knife and stabbing him three times in the throat seems to do the trick.
The first sawtooth drops back and roars as a red beam of light forms at the back of its throat.
So I torch the bitch before it can torch me, and I torch it good, the beast kicking in the air as fire blazes off his body, which also ignites the Reaper babe riding it. The sexy bedwetter lifts her finger to log out, but by that point, I’ve already hosed her hand down with the almost universal solvent, which leaves the dame crying out in pain and unable to steer the sawtooth.
Thank Jeebus for in-game physics.
The sawtooth, still bucking, throws the Reaper broad off its back, and in a manic dash, smashes into the sawtooth next to it, igniting this one as well. Feeling just about as OP as a gamer can feel, I step on the Reaper’s free, un-melted-off hand, preventing her from logging out while I hose down the sawtooths with more liquid flame.
I’ve got two of them, and Jim and Chrono have taken down the third, but I still got an itch I need to scratch, so I kick things into high gear.
“Let me go!” she cries out.
“What’s that? Shoot me with a mutant hack? Will do!”
My AUS hose gun goes away and I equip my Golden Goosinator Hack, item 571. I blast the Reaper, who is still in a prone position under my foot, logging her real-world location and providing her with a visit from Granny Weatherwax next time she logs in.
Feeling dandy as a lion, I step away from the dematerializing Reaper and move to the first sawtooth, who is still on the ground, flames raging off his body.
I place one foot on the bastard, oblivious to the flames, and go for item 120, Deckard’s handgun. I unload the magazine into its metal skull, pop the mag out, replace it, and move to the next one, who puts up a bit of a snarl and a fight, but ultimately gets capped.
That leaves me with the final sawtooth. Aiming my gun at the Reaper riding it, I orchestrate a perfect headshot without using my AA bar.
Rocket: Nice shot! Damn!
The skull-masked middle school bully falls off and the sawtooth pivots toward me, growling before charging, its feet shaking the earth as it approaches, leaps over bodies, and readies itself to pounce.
I’ve got to time this just right…
While I could have done it on my own, a flying silver hammer from Chrono throws the sawtooth off balance, giving me the per
fect chance to jump, hit the AA, and land on its back.
No time to equip my cowboy hat, I ride the sawtooth for a moment, going again for the Bowie knife affixed to my leg. I give the angry hissing mech the death it deserves, stabbing it multiple times in the back of its skull and eventually riding it to the ground.
“Jim, have the sawtooth prepared, the best taxidermist you know. I want this shit on my wall back at the Mondegreen. Screw that sailboat picture!”
Jim, who has just driven my Slice Bang into the body of a female Marauder, turns to me and cracks a grin. “Sure, Mr. Quantum, I will make arrangements.”
~*~
Doc: Morning Assassin and I are on the way.
Even though I’ve just finished helping Jim cut the head off a sawtooth – which was harder than it looked and required usage of my Darth Maul lightsaber, item 251, way better than Kylo Ren’s piece, item 336 – I can’t help but feel excited and nervous for what’s about to happen.
This is it, the final battle, and the results of this battle will have repercussions in the Proxima Galaxy as well as the real world. If everything goes according to plan, and methinks it will, Godsick and I will face off, and put an end to his shenanigans once and for all.
Luck be a lady tonight...
Dirty Dave seems to dig his new Steam Enforcer ride. While most of the Reapers have logged out, the pansies, there are still some half-deflated Marauders that need squashing, a role Dave gladly fills.
“We heading back to the main battle?” asks Chrono, who has sheathed one of his hammers.
“Too bad, I was just getting warmed up,” says Croc, whose armored knuckles are dripping with blood.
A green toucan made of oscillating energy lands before Sophia. The Mind Mage, now in her almost-negligee translucent outfit, looks down at the bird, nodding as it squawks.
“Don’t tell me you can understand what it’s saying.”
“The toucan speaks Cantonese, so I can understand most of it.”
“Now that makes sense.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I clear my throat. “Never mind, continue.”
Apotheosis Boom (The Feedback Loop Book 8) Page 14