Kill Switch: Final Season

by Sean E. Britten

  “More, we must find more.” Boche said.

  “Hold on!” Kahneman said, “We’re in a good position right here, the central section. You know the game is going to come down to here at some point. Instead of running around, we should wait for them to come to us.”

  Chapter Eight

  “After fifty seasons of Ultimate Killbots Fighting Mecha-League, we’re pitting our original season champions against current semifinalists! First battle of the night, it’s underdogs Voltoraptor versus Deathjaw!”

  Spotlights dance across a caged arena. Spiked balls swing from the ceiling and crackling jets of lightning fire randomly from the floor and walls. A silvery, raptor-shaped mechanical dinosaur shows off serrated claws and foot talons. Roaring reveals a flamethrower nozzle buried at the back of its throat. Across the arena floor, it faces off with a boxy, slightly dusty robot with toy wheels, covered in faded stickers. A hooked pincer slowly eases closed on the front of the bot and then slowly, slowly opens again.

  “Then, will many hands make light work when last season’s returning champion, Mr Tickles, faces off against season two winner, The Reaper?”

  A metallic sphere the size of a beach ball supports itself on half a dozen metal tentacles, each ending in diamond-tipped buzzsaws. Another half a dozen buzzsaw tentacles whip wildly around the cage, menacing a second boxy, slightly dusty bot. Low to the floor, a metal plate spins in short spurts on the front of the second machine.

  “And don’t miss when this season’s favourite, The Swarm, takes on season one undefeated champion, Fenrisúlf, the Hellhound, the God Killer, Monster of the River Ván and Devourer of the Sun!”

  An ominous black mass made of billions and billions of microscopic robots hangs above the arena, constantly changing shape to express complex mathematical constructs. A third boxy, slightly dusty robot with wheels from a remote controlled car circles the arena below, jerking with a spatula-esque metal flipper. A faded wolf design can be discerned painted on its back.

  “Is it out with the old, in with the new? Or does experience pay? Original Champs versus New Contenders on this week’s Ultimate Killbots Fighting Mecha-League!”

  Digger and Homer were moving toward the road when the Australian stopped, sensing something off. It took him a moment to spot the camera drones. Two of them circled a truck on the road ahead. Another team waiting in ambush. Digger had already gotten used to their camera drones, following and recording them from overhead, and apparently the other team had forgotten theirs as well. Digger flicked a hand back at Homer before darting sideways. The two of them ran to take cover behind a tan police cruiser.

  “Shite!” A voice said.

  The other contestants realised they’d been spotted. A gun barrel appeared over the lip of the truck’s trailer and a tear of gunfire ripped through the air, hammering the police cruiser. Digger and Homer were hidden and uninjured. Out of apparent frustration, the second burst blew apart one of the camera drones.The remains spun out of the air and crashed.

  L.L. Bitters, the man with the assault rifle, and his partner Rick O’Shae were the third team dropped into Freeway Interchange. The two of them must have raced around the boundary to set up their failed ambush. Bitters rose slightly, firing from the roof of the truck. The strobe lights on top of the police cruiser exploded and shards of thick plastic rained down the side of the vehicle onto Digger and Homer. The British soldier was dressed like Digger but with Union Jacks on the sleeves of his military uniform instead of the Australian flag. He was wiry with a wispy beard, carrying a high-tech assault rifle with a pair of attached drum magazines slung underneath it. Bitters kept shooting and riddled the cruiser’s windows with fractured holes.

  “Bloody hell, this time they’re the ones with the higher ground! Cheating bastards.” Digger said, and he yelled over the bullet-riddled car, “That’d be right! Just like a pom, can’t bowl, can’t bat, and can’t fucking shoot!”

  “You really the best your backwater bloody colony has to offer, convict?” Bitters shouted.

  Digger squeezed off a burst from his SMG that drilled the edge along the top of the truck. While Digger was aimed at Bitters, his partner, O’Shae, appeared near the tail. Tall and lean, with bright red hair, Rick O’Shae was a former Irish terrorist who fought on the side of Deunification. Bandoliers of throwing knives crossed his chest. O’Shae’s arm drew back, holding two sharp steel points, and he hurled them simultaneously at Digger. Both missiled through the air as Digger jerked back. The twin throwing knives embedded themselves in the police cruiser’s trunk where Digger had been firing from moments before. Digger took cover as the men combined forces, Bitters firing blind as O’Shae flung another blade that ricocheted off the vehicle and flew past Digger’s head.

  “Get out of here with your hipster bullshit!” Digger said, “Everyone running around with guns and you’re throwing pointy bits, all, look at me, bullets are too fucking mainstream!”

  “Unified Ireland, the English were far too smart to let us have guns, and they caught on to the whole bomb making bit, too.” Rick O’Shae said, “Had to work out a way to make do!”

  O’Shae threw another knife past the police cruiser. It hit the metal barricade at the side of the road and rebounded back toward Digger’s position as if zeroing in on his voice. Digger moved and the blade buried itself in the side of the vehicle only a few centimetres from his shoulder.

  “Not too shabby if I do say so me-self!” O’Shae said.

  “Come out and fight me like a man, you fucking leprechaun!” Digger said.

  “How about we stay here, and fight you like a couple of winners!” Bitters said.

  Bitters sprayed the police cruiser and the road ahead of it with his assault rifle. Pieces of the cruiser exploded and pelted both Digger and Homer with shrapnel. Digger fired back with his UMP45 but they were pinned. His only option might be to run at the truck, get under their field of fire, and attack from there. A single bullet or well-aimed blade would be enough to stop him dead as he crossed the gap though.

  A mechanised stomping interrupted their stalemate. Another mech headed down the road in their direction, catching Digger and Homer in the middle of it and the other team. It was another artillery mech with two boxy missile pods on its back. The mech was a darker colour than the others, painted grey and black for camouflage in urban environments.

  One of the mech’s missile muzzles glowed and exploded. Streaming white smoke, the rocket hissed toward Digger and Homer. Cursing, Digger had to brave being caught by the other pair as he grabbed Homer and dragged him toward the roadside barricade. They vaulted over it, tumbling to the ground and burying themselves in the dirt. Bitter and O’Shae were too distracted by the mech to take advantage of Digger and Homer’s flight from cover.

  The missile hit the car in front of the police cruiser and exploded. Tyres and large, shredded pieces of the vehicle were hurled from the blast. Shrapnel ripped through the police cruiser where Digger and Homer had been hiding and clattered off the metal barricade.

  “Bloody mechs! We’ve got to get around this one and get to that tunnel.”Digger said, “We’ll head for the next section of the arena, can’t be any worse than this.”

  L.L. Bitters straightened, rifle at his shoulder. He was an excellent marksman when given a few moments to focus and he squeezed off a couple of short bursts at the mech. One of the lenses that passed for the mech’s eyes shattered. The mech turned, focusing its firepower on the other team.

  “Bollocks!” Bitters said.

  The mech thundered as it launched a second missile at the other pair. Bitters and O’Shae scrambled toward the tail end of the truck. The mech’s missile slammed into the truck’s cabin and it disintegrated in a fiery ball of metal and glass. The shockwave caused the truck’s trailer to tilt up, broken open, and Bitters and O’Shae disappeared in the blast. Wreckage crashed to the ground and it seemed like the pair might have been caught beneath it but it was impossible to tell.

  “Move it!” D
igger said.

  Digger leapt to his feet, once more yanking Homer by the arm, and the two of them ran down the side of the road. The mech was working its way between ranks of cars. It turned on the pair, a couple of muzzles glowing. The plan had been to get around it, into its blindspot, before running for the exit, but that clearly wasn’t going to work. Another missile fired out of the right-side pod, screaming past Digger and Homer and exploding across the wastes beside the road. Digger shoved Homer ahead of him as he stumbled to a stop.

  “Keeping going, mate! Head for the tunnel and I’ll catch up!” Digger said.

  Wide-eyed under his slightly ridiculous, drooping helmet, the boy looked unsure. After a few moments he nodded and kept going, taking off between rows of leftover traffic. The dark mech focused on the Australian. It rested one of its massive metal feet on the bonnet of a low-slung car and the front of the car crumpled, rotted tyres sinking into the dust. Digger shouldered his UMP45 and opened fire.

  Same as Macbeth Madaki, Digger didn’t aim for the heavily armoured portions of the mech’s body but for one of the glowing missile pods. Slugs punched through the gaping barrels and suddenly the right missile pod let out an enormous backfire. A secondary explosion split the entire missile pod. The mech stumbled, crashing into the side of an abandoned bus. Windows shattered and the vehicle folded in on itself. Digger strode forward and kept wringing the trigger as the mech pulled itself free. His shots drilled into the second missile pod and it also exploded in an orange fireball with enough force to hurl the huge mech sideways. Digger took cover as shrapnel whistled through the air. The final blast had hollowed out the mech’s armour. Smoking, it tumbled on its clattering legs and crashed into the asphalt.

  “When you’re fucking with me, you’re fucking with the best, Sonny Jim!” Digger yelled.

  Digger’s ears were ringing. He looked around to make sure there was no sign of Bitters and O’Shae, or the team of Madaki and Du Preez. Once he was sure it was safe he headed for the tunnel exit where he’d sent Homer. The boy was waiting at the exit already. Digger reloaded his UMP45 before they headed into the tunnel.

  “Half hour’s nearly up since the last update, Homer my old son.” Digger said, “They said we don’t want to be caught between different parts of the arena when it changes, right? So let’s get going.”

  xXx

  “I’m bored. Bored bored bored bored bored.” Bolt said, “Bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored.”

  Bolt repeated the word in a breathless stream of nonsense that sounded like a malfunctioning machine. His junk food meal from the vending machine downstairs had disappeared, candy bar wrappers and chip packets scattered across his lap. He sat across the room from his partner, DFN Jefferson.

  “You could spot for me.” DFN said.

  DFN lay near the window frame of the office they had taken as a sniper nest. Rifle placed against her shoulder, scope plugged into her artificial eye. The main road was empty, surrounding buildings quiet. DFN and Bolt’s camera drones were in the room with them, filming, although there was little action for them to capture.

  “You don’t get it you know the enhanced senses I can’t just turn them on and off with my metabolism time goes at a crawl all this waiting is like being stuck in the longest queue in the world.” Bolt said.

  “When I was in the service, one mission was to take a warlord in his mountain stronghold.” DFN said, “We couldn’t get to him. He was surrounded by a hundred men with drones constantly patrolling the perimeter from several clicks out. So they dropped me off outside the drones’ range in a ghillie suit, carrying my rifle and just enough food and water for a few days. For two days, I made my across an open patch of grassland, slow enough the drones didn’t pick me up. When I reached the overlook, I had to wait another three and a half days for my shot. The warlord I was after, he liked to take in the grounds maybe once, twice a day, different times, so I had to stay alert. Couple of times I thought I almost had a shot, almost, but I had to be a hundred percent sure. So when it finally happened, one pull of the trigger, one shot, that was all it took. His men went nuts. They and the droids tried to sweep the area. It took another four days to move back to my extraction point slowly enough that the patrols didn’t find me. At one point, two soldiers were so close one of them kept stepping on my wrist while they were having a smoke, but they didn’t see me. I reached the extraction point, no water for two days, no food for five. They picked me up and I went home.”

  “Wow.” Bolt said, “You know that really makes me think I thought I was bored before but you’re right that story was so boring I’m on a whole new level of bored and I should have appreciated the casual level of bored I had before.”

  Screens on their sleeves updated, refreshing their maps. DFN glanced away from her rifle and studied the new information. The other teams had moved around Towers, avoiding one another, but didn’t appear to be closing in on DFN and Bolt’s building. That was their biggest issue, her sniper nest might have been perfectly positioned but it was only a matter of time before other teams realised they hadn’t moved and tried to ambush them. Luckily, another icon had cropped up across the street from them.

  “There’s a weapon drop that’s just appeared.” DFN said, “Clear line of sight, it’ll draw them to us.”

  “No way I could definitely use something to replace these little bug zappers.” Bolt jostled the two stun pistols he’d been given, “Pieces of crap lets go get some new guns.”

  “No, stop!” DFN said, “These sleeves, they won’t let us get too far away from one another. That’s why they put us together, our styles are too different. If you go blazing out of here without me it’ll set off the proximity alert. We need a plan.”

  “Plans are boring we need to go hit that weapon drop whatever the game is I can beat it.” Bolt said.

  “Remember what they said about every section having its own unique threats? We don’t know what this section has yet, but I bet that drop will draw it out.” DFN said, “And that’s not counting the other contestants who will be on their way. Are you really so ready to kill someone, just to get over your boredom?”

  Bolt hesitated uncharacteristically, “I’ve never killed anyone before.” He said, “I just robbed banks like it said back on the ship okay so it was a few different banks but they only came down hard because of the experiments on me.”

  “Then how about you leave the decisions about who and when to kill up to me?” DFN said, “Look, down below, we’ve got movement.”

  Two figures made their way down the main road, headed for the weapon drop. The long yellow coat one of them was wearing made him unmistakable as Marcus Halligan, the firefighter. Halligan was a pyromaniac with a hero complex. When he hadn’t found enough action naturally, he had started setting fires himself not just to watch them burn but so he could stage elaborate rescues and get himself on newsfeeds. Only when he screwed up and got a family of five killed did his schemes come to light.

  DFN fixed on the two men but she knew only a headshot would ensure a kill. The light rifle wouldn’t penetrate the contestants’ body armour. Unfortunately, Halligan was one of the only contestants wearing a helmet, a wide, flat firefighter’s helmet that went with his heavy coat. His partner, Luthor Crispee, was walking slightly behind Halligan on the sidewalk so the firefighter blocked DFN’s shot. Her artificial eye zoomed in and out through the scope. Burn scars covered half of Crispee’s face, skin melted like candle wax stretching down the side of his throat and onto his chest. Flesh drooped over his left eye. Crispee was an ex-soldier, heavyset and hard muscled, wearing a uniform and webbed body armour. He carried a short assault rifle down low as he moved, face alert. Halligan was armed with a single wrist-mounted flamethrower, similar to one of those that ringer Donny Kohler had used the previous season. His hand was protected by a metal glove. Stiff tubing wound around Halligan’s arm to a fire extinguisher-sized tank dangling off his back. A pilot light glimmered at the mouth o
f the flamethrower’s muzzle.

  “What are you waiting for do it!” Bolt said.

  DFN exhaled slowly, “No clear shot.” She said.

  The two contestants moved under the awnings of the mall, making DFN’s shot even more difficult. They had no idea she was watching them from above, faces and movements magnified, but they were still being careful. DFN considered shooting the tank of Halligan’s flamethrower but she strongly doubted her rounds would penetrate the metal, and it would only alert the other team to their presence.

  “They’re going for the weapon drop. I’ll hit them on the way out.” DFN said.

  A crystal-shaped sign and the letters ‘DI M ND PL ZA’ stood over the mall entrance. The missing letters lay shattered in the street with other rubble. Halligan and Crispee moved into the mouth of the abandoned shopping mall. DFN could see their backs and the backs of their heads for a moment but held off, the sniper knew patience and waiting for the exact right moment could be the difference between life and death. Besides, she believed what she had told Bolt about the section’s threat. If anything, the weapon drop might reveal what it was.

  Even by Bolt’s standards they didn’t have to wait long for the screaming to start. Shouts echoed out of the mall mixed with a high-pitched, animal shrieking. DFN fixated on the entryway but she was still caught by surprise. Halligan and Luthor Crispee exploded out of the entry surrounded by a swarm of fur and fangs. The two of them batted wildly at their attackers. Crispee fired off a stream of bullets, trying to keep it orderly but already streaming blood and panicking.

  Baboons, Halligan and Crispee had disturbed a nest of them in the empty mall. The weapon drop had been placed right in the middle. The baboons weren’t just enraged and territorial either, the creatures had been mutated by nuclear and biological attacks of the Bio-Wars. Bristling with extra limbs, spikey carapaces, face bulging with oversized jaws and extra eyes, the animals were freaks. Their skin was covered in bubbling red rashes that seemed to be eating through their flesh.