Kill Switch: Final Season

by Sean E. Britten

  A twisted skull with horns and fangs hovers over North Africa. Sickly green arrows radiate outwards and stain surrounding countries before angling toward the New United States.

  “Stay alert! Be wary of cosmopolitans and intellectual-types undermining our response to the mutant threat! Mutants may be capable of stealing people’s faces, controlling the weather, and the power of flight! It hasn’t been recorded happening, but they might be! Write your congressman or senator and tell them to build the dome! And remember, the only good mutant, is a dead mutant!”

  #BuildTheDome

  “This message brought to you by People With Reasonable Concerns About Genetically Differentiated Peoples of the World.”

  The four of them, Digger and Homer, Kali and her partner, Tanai, waited until the irradiated smog cleared. Bright blue sky peeked through the swirling green. They headed to the windows and saw gas retreat back along pathways as mysteriously as it had appeared. Clouds seeped away between ramshackle shanties and dirt intersections.

  “Way’s clear, time to get the fuck out of here.” Digger said, “Get to the next section before they switch the fans back on.”

  “Guess this means our truce is over.” Kali said.

  The six-armed woman stepped back along the wall and eyed Digger carefully. Tanai lurked in the background with his electrified fists bunched, tattoos glowing along his arms like brilliantly coloured eels. Digger smirked, holding his H&K UMP45.

  “Think we did well keeping things polite, go our separate ways, ey?” Digger said.

  “No promises about what happens next time we meet then?” Kali said.

  “No promises.” Digger said.

  Digger and Homer left by the front door, Digger raising his gun to scan their surroundings. The irradiated gas clouds would have cleared the streets if anyone had been immediately outside. The Australian looked down at their map and decided to head to the left. Kali and Tanai stayed behind for the moment but they were planning on heading for the section Digger and Homer had come from, Freeway Interchange. Digger and Homer were moving toward the suburbs instead. Their two camera drones rejoined them, bobbing across the breeze. Between them and Suburbia though was the last known position of the Lyncher Lee and Frankie LaPalma, the pair who had attacked them up on the ship who would now be armed and no doubt even more aggressive.

  “Don’t think I’m going soft, will you, mate?” Digger said, “Letting them go without a fight, well, that’s just fair play. We run into spider-girl and your quiet mate again and I’ll end them but for now, I don't want to have to deal with that goddamn gas again. If you can’t shoot it, eat it, or fuck it, I don’t want to know about it. Keep your bloody eyes peeled won’t you for the Chinese chick and that other douchebag who tried to get in a couple of early punches back on the ship.”

  Even before Digger had finished speaking, a human figure moved across one of the nearby rooftops. Lyncher Lee whirred as she ran, encased in her jointed exoskeleton. The building was made of crumbling concrete, an old market with no front wall and no permanent roof, littered with skeletons and collapsed tables. One of Lee’s booted feet fell on a piece of corrugated iron with a clang. Digger swung around immediately, opening up with his UMP45. The weapon roared, heavy slugs ripping through the air, but Lee moved faster. Digger could see her exotic armour had been enhanced and bulked up by the exoskeleton around her arms, legs and torso. A glowing circle, the suit’s battery pack, took up space on Lee’s back. She moved with superhuman speed, bounding across the walls of the market as Digger fired in short bursts, trying to track her but missing.

  “Ambush! Fucking move!” Digger yelled.

  Frankie LaPalma appeared on the street carrying his heavy Tommygun. Wood and iron with a drum magazine, Frankie struggled to get the old submachine gun on target. Thunder filled the road, dust rising off surrounding buildings. Digger shoved Homer toward the shacks on the other side of the road and returned fire, driving LaPalma sideways.

  Lyncher Lee leapt across the road, clearing half a dozen metres in a single jump. Her exoskeleton gave her superhuman strength and speed but no ranged weaponry. Lee landed on one of the shacks but had misjudged how sturdy it was. It collapsed under her weight, Lee disappearing in a cloud of dust, wooden planks and bits of metal that flew outwards with a resounding crash. Meanwhile, LaPalma continued to wrestle with his Thompson and wrung on the trigger. Heavy slugs tore through walls around Digger and Homer like they had when they’d been ambushed before, the shelters providing no solid cover.

  “Motherfuckers!” Digger said.

  Digger fired between the buildings where he’d last seen Frankie LaPalma. The other two contestants had moved like they intended to make a pincer around Digger and Homer. Once again, Homer seemed completely useless in the fight. It would be best to put him, and his kill switch bracelet, out of harm’s way. Looking around, Digger saw a narrow gap only Homer could squeeze through under the wall of one shack. He grabbed the boy and shoved him toward the ground.

  “Split up, you go through there and keep moving.” Digger said, “Find a place to hide until the shooting stops!”

  Still wearing his oversized helmet, Homer dropped to the ground and started to crawl. He shimmied through the gap and disappeared into the trash surrounding the shanties. Behind Digger, Lyncher Lee kicked apart another flimsy shack. She moved mechanically through the debris, suit whirring. A falling wall hammered Digger and the Australian tried to fight it off. Lee shielded her face with one arm as she ran forward. Digger fired but his bullets bounced off Lee’s exoskeleton.

  Lee’s hand snapped out around the barrel of Digger’s UMP45, twisting and wrenching the gun out of Digger’s grip. She tossed the submachine gun into the street. The woman led forward with a high frontal kick, her foot driving into Digger’s chest. His armour absorbed part of the impact, spreading it across his torso so his sternum wasn’t crushed, but the shock picked him up and launched him through the next shack. The Australian blew through both walls and the structure collapsed behind him. Crashing to the ground, Digger tried to roll with the momentum and he struggled upright, wheezing.

  Seeing Digger, Frankie LaPalma raised his Thompson submachine gun and fired. Rounds chewed through the shack behind Digger as he flattened himself to the ground. Lee appeared and held up a hand to stop him.

  “This one is mine! Find the the other one.” Lee said.

  Frankie circled back, looking uncertain. He didn’t want to piss off his partner, who was considerably more dangerous than him, but if they had a chance he knew they should end the fight quickly. Before he could say anything, he saw movement off to his left. Homer was moving like a rat between ramshackle buildings.

  “I got him!” Frankie said.

  LaPalma lifted the heavy Tommygun again and rocked backward as he squeezed the trigger, stock jackhammering into his shoulder. Bullets tore through the ruins just above Homer’s head. The young man kept crawling, wiggling through the garbage and bones.

  Struggling to breathe after the kick to his chest, Digger pulled the small pistol he’d taken from Kali out of his belt. He straightened it in front of him, wringing the trigger. Lee covered her face with one forearm again. 9mm bullets ricocheted off her armour until Lee got close enough. She swung around with her other hand. Digger blocked, taking the blow on his shoulder, and his entire right arm went numb. Lee grabbed the pistol and pulled it out of Digger’s unresisting grip. Rather than toss it aside, Lee balled her gloved, piston-driven fist around the weapon and squeezed. The barrel bent, doubling back on the body as the pistol was warped beyond repair. Smirking at Digger, Lee flicked the small gun away in a ball. She grabbed Digger by the front of his armour and pulled him upright.

  “You’re going to die in here.” Lee said.

  “Fuck you, you half-robot bitch.” Digger said.

  Digger aimed for the only vulnerable part of Lee’s armour, her exposed head. Jerking his forehead forward the Australian butted Lee between the eyes. She winced backward with her eye
s slammed shut. Digger bared his teeth but Lee lashed out, shoving Digger away from her instinctually. He was hurled into the street, catapulted over trash before tumbling across the hard ground.

  LaPalma stalked after Homer, gun thundering in short bursts. Holes were blown through thin shack walls and piles of refuse. Camera drones were circling above like vultures, capturing all the chaos as it happened. Homer squirmed through several narrow passages. His oversized helmet bobbed up and down as he crawled.

  “Come back here, kid! It’ll all be over soon!” LaPalma said.

  LaPalma’s arms and shoulders were aching already from handling the gun. Homer scrabbled into one of the shacks. The boy was cornered, LaPalma thought. As far as he could see, Homer was totally unarmed except for the injectors on his hip and LaPalma wasn’t going to get close enough to get hit with one of those. The ex-Mafia solder hurried to the doorway of the shack, Tommygun at the ready. Homer had moved aside a couple of skeletons in rotten clothing and pushed open a panel at the back of the shack. He disappeared through the space before LaPalma could draw a bead on him. LaPalma fired anyway, blowing a row of holes in the wall above where Homer had slipped away.

  “You’re the one making this hard, kid!” LaPalma said.

  Meanwhile, groaning, Digger rolled onto his hands and knees in the middle of the street. He could see his Heckler & Koch UMP45 lying a short distance away where Lee had thrown it. He started to crawl toward the gun. Lee moved between him and the weapon. Pulling the knife out of the sheath on his chest, Digger did his best to get up and get himself into a fighting stance.

  Lee swaggered forward, gears on her exosuit whirring. She circled Digger and then darted toward him, unworried. Digger feinted right but then ducked, shaking off his injuries. Striking with precision he jabbed at Lee’s arm. Jamming the blade into one of the joints in Lee’s exoskeleton he twisted and then tore it loose. Lee’s arm seized up, jerking around, and it took her a few moments to get it back under control.

  “How you like me now?” Digger said.

  Digger lunged at Lee’s other arm. She spun away, blocking him, and swept her knee into his arm. Pinning his wrist, Lee hit him and forced Digger to release the knife. Throwing Digger to the ground with a flip, Lee grabbed him with her damaged arm. Her other hand shot out and hit him in the jaw with the heel of her hand. Lee pulled her punch or she could have taken his head off at the shoulders. Digger’s head snapped back and then lolled on his neck, only semi-conscious.

  Homer clamoured into the street on the other side of the shanties. His eyes were wide and frightened. Finally, the boy grasped at the injectors on his belt. Pulling one of them loose, Homer popped the cap off one end but seemed reluctant to use it.

  LaPalma shoved his way through a narrow passage between the shacks. Homer jammed the injector into the side of his neck. The tube hissed as Homer hit the button on the other end of the tube and the drug pumped into his system. Homer spasmed and his pupils shrunk to pinpricks before his hands went limp, needle dropping away from his throat.

  “You really are just a kid, huh, kid?” LaPalma said.

  LaPalma circled Homer. He hadn’t noticed Homer using or dropping the fat, white tube of the injector. LaPalma aimed the muzzle of his Thompson at Homer’s face, finger stroking the trigger. Before he could pull it, however, the man found himself frozen. Stiff, LaPalma could only move his eyes, shooting back and forth in confusion and growing fear.

  Homer snaked around and reached under LaPalma’s pant leg. As soon as they made skin-to-skin contact, LaPalma stiffened as if he’d been electrified.

  Without his knife, Digger looked desperately for another weakness to take advantage of. Slamming his hand into the damaged servo on Lee’s left arm, he tried to push it away. Digger then groped for the battery pack on Lee’s back. Lee brought her knee forward, crashing into Digger’s side. He was knocked, sprawling, backward, and landed facedown in the dust. Lee stomped up behind him and grabbed Digger by the hair. Her other hand closed around his throat.

  “Winner, by technical knockout.” Lee said.

  Suddenly, one of the nearby shacks exploded into the street. Debris scattered around Digger and Lee. Before Lee could recover from her surprise her partner, LaPalma, stepped through the gap made by the destroyed shack with his Tommygun blazing. Bullets raked across Lee’s exoskeleton, a couple ricocheting off the glowing power pack. The suit wasn’t damaged but Lee released Digger and stumbled back in surprise. Without letting up, LaPalma continued to pour a stream of bullets in Lee’s direction with a clear focus he hadn’t had before. With big .45 slugs punching and ricocheting off her armoured suit, Lee was forced to look for cover.

  “What are you doing?” Lee screamed.

  LaPalma emptied the fifty-round drum of his Tommygun. Pieces of concrete broke off a wall as Lee disappeared behind it. For a few long moments LaPalma continued to wring his trigger, producing a dry chattering from the empty chamber like a typewriter key being repeatedly hammered. Moving mechanically, LaPalma eventually stopped trying to fire, dumped the empty and smoking drum, and reached for the backup on his side.

  Clutching his throat, Digger managed to pull himself upright. Frankie LaPalma, it seemed, had suddenly switched sides and saved his life. As he reloaded, Digger saw the stiff and jerky way the man was moving, and the expression on LaPalma’s face didn't seem to match his actions. His eyes were wide and terrified, and his mouth grimacing as if his jaws were wired shut. Moving behind LaPalma, Digger saw Homer now on his feet. One hand was raised in LaPalma’s direction, fingers twitching like a puppeteer, and his face was filled with concentration. Fumbling, LaPalma turned the second, hefty ammo drum around and tried to jam it into the receiver.

  Digger was paralysed by terror. Not fear of Lee or the apparently possessed LaPalma but of his own partner. The animal in Digger’s chest screamed in circles. Instinct took over and he snapped out of it. Digger recovered his knife and crawled toward his UMP45. He flipped over and readied the gun but didn’t know where to aim. Part of him drew the muzzle toward Homer.

  Hesitating for several moments, Digger fired. The bullets went straight past Frankie LaPalma and whistled over Homer’s head, missing by only inches. Homer realised what was happening and ducked, his mouth open n a silent shout. As he was distracted, he lost control over LaPalma for a few seconds. Having just slotted the magazine into his Thompson, LaPalma stumbled and then swept the gun as if looking for a target.

  “What was that? What’s happening?” LaPalma said.

  Roaring with anger, Lyncher Lee bounded over the wall she’d been hidden behind. Without realising that Homer had temporarily lost control of LaPalma she raced straight toward her partner, covering the ground between them in seconds. She couldn’t kill LaPalma but seemed she was about to knock him out. Homer recovered before she hit him, standing back up with both hands raised. Lee and LaPalma both froze. Servos whined in Lee’s suit as if it had suddenly locked up and trapped her. Grunting, the woman struggled against the struts that crossed her body. LaPalma had simply turned into a statue. Homer didn’t seem to have any issue holding both of them at once.

  Homer flicked one of his wrists and an unseen force picked up Lyncher Lee and hurled her across the street. Crucified in her inoperable suit, Lee slammed into a concrete wall and was pinned there. Servos continued to whine as Lee spat and struggled. LaPalma looked helpless as well, his heavy Thompson submachine gun loaded again but hanging from his limp hands. Homer thrust forward with the hand aimed at Lee.

  The struts on Lee’s exoskeleton, crossing her torso, suddenly folded and imploded into her chest. Jerking upright, blood sprayed from Lee’s mouth. Her eyes were stunned. Pressure punched a hole through the armour on her chest and into her ribcage, and into the soft organs underneath. Homer released his control and Lee toppled sideways, her exosuit landing heavily. The kill switch on her wrist started wailing, triggering the one LaPalma was wearing as well. The man didn’t seem to react even as the bracelet injected him full of
adrenaline and chemicals.

  Gun still loosely trained in Homer and LaPalma’s direction, Digger got to his feet. With his kill switch activated, LaPalma was going to explode in the next minute. Homer seemed unworried, standing close enough that he’d be consumed by the fireball or at least badly maimed when LaPalma’s bracelet blew. That was assuming, of course, that Homer couldn’t control and contain the blast too. Digger decided not to take his chances, even though he himself had almost shot and killed Homer moments before.

  “Get out of it! Get away from there, come on!” Digger yelled.

  Homer hesitated for a few moments, looking from Digger to Frankie LaPalma. His face appeared very young again. Finally he took off running toward Digger. He kept his hand pointed back at LaPalma until their connection was broken. LaPalma blinked and stumbled from foot to foot again, nearly dropping his gun.

  “What? No, that’s not fair!” LaPalma said.

  LaPalma’s bracelet was still wailing. Digger turned and joined Homer, the two of them sprinting away from the doomed man. LaPalma raised his weapon and fired at their fleeing backs. He was able to control the weight and recoil of the Thompson much easier with the adrenaline and drugs in his system and fired off a long, withering burst, but the bullets went wild. LaPalma’s eyelids fluttered while he was firing, and strength seemed to go out of his legs. Before he hit the ground his kill switch exploded, disintegrating him in a fiery flash. The shockwave ripped apart the surrounding shanties.

  “Holy wow, Rick, just when you and I think we’ve seen it all, that there are no more surprises in this game-, something like that happens.” The first commentator said.

  “I know exactly what you mean, Fred.” The second man said, “I’d like to take a moment to remind our audience at home, there is no CGI, no camera tricks on Slayerz! What you’re seeing is nothing but unaltered reality from our African arena.”