Kill Switch: Final Season

by Sean E. Britten

  Sanzeros and Ludd started circling around the central section, away from Boche and Kahneman. They threaded their way through buildings and a sprawling, deserted marketplace. Scattered stalls and wreckage covered the open space. Burnt-out civilian and military vehicles clogged the roads. Sanzeros’ eyes widened as they came toward the rough centre of the arena.

  “There, oh, man! If I can get that working, or at least I can open it up and we can get inside, we’d be set!” Sanzeros said.

  The massive scorptank was where it had been seen earlier, in the middle of the nearest intersection. Surrounded by normal tanks it had been in the process of destroying when shut down. The scorpion tank looked like a giant metal insect feasting on the armoured husks.

  The two men darted across the open road, circling around craters gaping in the asphalt. Sanzeros was clumsy but quiet while Ludd’s suit moved heavily and churned mechanically with every step. They weaved around broken tank treads and other wreckage until they were standing under the giant scorptank. The scorptank’s primary weapons were raised threateningly. Its collection of lenses and antennae were protected by a metal hood, forming a face at the front. The insectile tank was perfectly still, and seemed dead. Ludd took a step back, standing by the tank’s huge claw. Sanzeros hung his shotgun off his side and clamoured up some rungs to the top of the tank.

  Sanzeros, in another life, was a console cowboy. A black hat hacker. He had made a good living and a name for himself on various corporate espionage jobs and some simple ransoms. It had all come apart when a ‘smart’ building had gone up in his old neighbourhood. Once an overcrowded slum when he’d been growing up, the area had been cleared out, cleaned up and undergoing waves and waves of construction and gentrification. Smart buildings usually had a central AI that controlled every aspect of their residents’ lives, meals, showers, wake-up calls, cleaning, their security and elevators, and a hundred other little things. Sanzeros hadn’t intended for things to go the way they did. He hacked the building AI, intending to hold the residents hostage while taunting them with little inconveniences until a ransom was paid. It wasn’t primarily about the creds, he had been more concerned with building up his rep. Unfortunately, the building’s AI was new and top-of-the-line with learning capabilities that took Sanzeros by surprise once he’d removed its limiters. Almost three dozen people had ended up dead by the time the authorities blasted open an entrance, evacuated the then-burning building, and deactivated the murderous AI despite lethal cleaning droids and ‘companion’ bots roaming the halls. Sanzeros had covered his tracks pretty well. Given the ourage over what happened, however, and fears of it happening again, the police spared no expense in tracking him down and arresting him for thirty-four counts of murder via AI, extortion, and a litany of other charges.

  “Just what are you planning on doing?” Ludd said.

  “If we can get inside this thing, I can maybe get it running if it still has some juice, then we’d be unstoppable!” Sanzeros said, “Even if we just get in, no one is getting through this armour. No one but me! If I had my gear I could brute force this keypad, but if I can pry this open I can go old school on the internals.”

  The top of the scorpion tank was made up of huge, smooth segments of armour, locking together like a bug’s carapace. The scorptank’s distinctive tail, more interlocking segments that ended in a six-barrelled minigun, hung over its back. Sanzeros moved to a large panel, shaped like a manhole, with a complex locking mechanism. He started to work on the keypad next to the entrance point.

  Ludd moved around the left-side claw, shaped like a giant, three-pronged Jaws of Life with a laser cannon mounted in the middle. The nearest regular tank was sheared open, thick layers of armour peeled back like the skin of an orange and scorched black. The crew would have been roasted and disintegrated into a few scattered atoms cooked into the tank’s interior. The scorptank’s right arm didn’t end with a claw but instead with a massive missile launcher.

  On top, Sanzeros went to work on the scorptank’s keypad. He couldn’t pry it open with just his fingers, however, and didn’t have any tools. The hacker was so engrossed with his task he didn’t feel a tremor run through the tank right under his feet. A dim glow started around some of the lenses and sensory equipment of the tank’s ‘face’. There was a dull thunk and the scorpion tank’s segmented tail dropped slightly. The armoured belt of ammunition dangling off the side of the tail clanked and barrels of the large calibre minigun that formed its stinger started to turn.

  “What in the name of Legba?” Sanzeros said.

  The titanic vehicle started to move. Its six huge legs shifted slowly as if working out some stiffness after being frozen in place for so long, and the armour plates down its back and sides rippled. Ludd, on the ground, retreated away from the waking giant.

  “Get off of there! Get down!” Ludd roared.

  The tank could be operated by a crew or programmed to follow a few simple directives on its own artificial initiative. Sanzeros had hoped the Slayerz producers had left some power in it deliberately, but he hadn’t expected it to just come to life on its own. He clung to the edge of one of the scorptank’s plates of armour, feet sliding out from under him. The long tail of the scorptank fixed on Sanzeros. Minigun barrels picked up speed and started blazing before Sanzeros could react. Anti-aircraft bullets ripped through Sanzeros, body armour and all, like wet paper. Sanzeros was torn to shreds, splattered down the length of the scorptank’s back like spilled paint.

  The scorptank continued to move as if warming up, shoving aside the broken tanks it had been surrounded by. Ludd was moving backward. What was left of Sanzeros tumbled down one side of the scorptank leaving a long, greasy smear, riddled with gaping holes. The sleeve on what was left of Sanzero’s right arm squealed, sending out a pulse from its kill switch.

  “No! Not like this!” Ludd said.

  Muscles tightened inside Ludd’s suit as his kill switch dosed him with adrenaline and chems. The scorpion tank wheeled around, six huge, jagged foot pads punching holes in the ground. It hit another one of the lesser tanks and sent it shrieking across the asphalt, its treads breaking free and unraveling. The scorptank’s segmented tail swung from side to side along with its huge primary weapons.

  Howling, Ludd threw himself at the scorptank with metal fists raised. The mechanical beast kept turning on Ludd like he was an insect to be swatted. Its three-pronged claw peeled open. The laser cannon inset in the middle of the pincer started to glow and fired a beam of solid light. The laser missed Ludd, moving with surprising speed now, but the backblast of heat washed over him, frying his hair and clothing under the exoskeleton. The laser continued across the marketplace and drilled into a squat, brick building. Windows exploded and the whole structure seemed to shake. Once the laser dissipated a perfectly circular crater was burned right through the building, the outer wall, its interior, and the building behind it.

  Ludd looked boiled and red, staggering sideways, but he kept coming. The exoskeleton enhanced Ludd’s ability to jump. He leapt and clamoured up the side of the scorptank’s head and pounded at it with his enhanced fists. Even with his mech suit, the man looked like a mouse attacking a pitbull. The minigun on the scorptank’s tail screamed but Ludd pulled himself up quickly. Bullets sprung off the tank’s thick armour with fanning sprays of sparks. One ricochet clipped him, tearing a bloody furrow through the outside of his right bicep. In spite of the injury and his reddened skin, Ludd felt no pain due to all the chemicals in his system.

  “I’ll destroy you, you giant fucking toy! I’ll tear you open!” Ludd yelled.

  Ludd dug his thick fingers, encased in metal, into a chink between two enormous plates of armour. Bracing his feet, Ludd started to pry upward. The metal groaned, huge, drug-fuelled muscles and exoskeleton working in concert, but the rust-speckled plate wouldn’t bend. Enraged, Ludd punched downward and his fists rang off the scorptank’s armour, unable to damage the machine even with his suit and enhanced strength.


  The minigun stinger fixed on Ludd’s exposed back, thundering. Just like Lyncher Lee’s exoskeleton, a glowing battery pack sat on the back of the miniaturized mech suit. Bullets punched through the battery and there was a small explosion, crackling, white energy venting into the air. Rounds tore through Ludd’s chest as well, pieces of ribs and gore erupting from his breastplate like a volcano. One hand still clinging to the tank’s armour, Ludd fell to his knees and rode it for a few moments. Blood spewed from his mouth as he died cursing the machine and the game. Ludd’s bracelet exploded. The orange fireball consumed Ludd’s body and his battered exoskeleton, roaring across the scorptank’s back. The scoptank stumbled sideways for a moment. Pieces of Ludd and his suit rained across the scorptank’s armour. Once the explosion faded, however, the scorpion tank didn’t look any the worse for wear.

  Drawn by the noise, Boche and Uzi Kahneman had moved through the ruins to a spot where they could safely watch the scorptank from a distance. Seeing the scorpion tank was live and moving, they hung back. Even with the two men who had accidentally activated it dead, the scorptank continued to rampage. It crawled over the wrecks of other tanks and crushed more abandoned vehicles underfoot. A missile from its missile pod corkscrewed into another nearby building and it imploded. The structure sagged sideways and slammed into its own foundations, spewing a billowing cloud of dust and rubble into the street. Basking in the destruction, the scorptank almost looked like it was roaring. Boche and Kahneman disappeared back the way they had come, fleeing. The scorptank circled around, hunting for more contestants as part of a new program which had been uploaded by Slayerz.

  xXx

  In Towers, the weapon drop in Diamond Plaza Mall had disappeared without ever being claimed and two new icons appeared at different ends of the section. The massive Russian, Dozer, checked his map and angrily kept moving. His partner, Taka, was still woozy from Bolt’s stun blasts. He stumbled after Dozer carrying his AKM assault rifle. There was no conversation between the two of them, Dozer spoke Russian and Taka could only understand his native dialect and a few cribbed words of English. Dozer communicated through stiff gestures. Trailing its belt of ammo, Dozer slung his minigun along at his side by its chainsaw-style grip.

  The two icons were a weapon minigame and a medical drop. Grunting, Dozer pointed Taka toward the minigame. Imposing as it was, the minigun was thirsty when it came to ammunition. Even after starting with a hefty backpack full of ammo, Dozer was almost out after their brief and fruitless battle with Bolt and DFN Jefferson. DFN and Bolt would be going for the medical drop, Dozer thought. Dozer wasn’t planning on laying another trap though, knowing they’d be wary. He’d get in and out of the weapon minigame and then see about taking his chances with the closest team.

  A long, tan shape prowled into the street ahead of Dozer and Taka. It was one of the mutant lionesses, separated from her pack. Winglike protuberances of ribs and stretched flesh jutted from the creature’s rash-covered sides. A tongue three or four times as long as it should have been flopped out of the animal’s mouth. It snarled in warning, head low, starved and vicious. It seemed uncertain but settled back on its haunches, ready to race forward.

  Grunting in Russian, Dozer heaved his minigun around. Drowsy, Taka jumped as Dozer triggered the weapon and the minigun thundered, bullets screaming through the air and drilling the mutated feline. It leapt back, yowling, but a long burst from Dozer split it open from neck to tail. Long, thick tongue flailing from its mouth, the lioness flipped to the ground and died quickly. Steaming entrails spilled from its midsection.

  “Plokhoy kotenok.” Dozer said.

  Dozer continued through the tall office blocks with Taka at his side. The arena’s boundary wall curved around them. The weapon minigame was in another anonymous building by the arena’s edge. Inside was a metal corridor lit by white light. Dozer kept his minigun with its quickly lightening backpack of ammunition raised and ready for surprises. They were led to a square room with a low ceiling and featureless walls. Once the two contestants were inside a door slid shut across the entryway, sealing them in.

  “Contestants, as I’m sure you’re aware, Slayerz is not just a competition of bodies and bloodlust but of brains!” A voice filled the room, speaking in English, loud and genderless, “In order to survive this game, and for a weapon reward, we’ll be testing one particular section of the brain. Your memory.”

  Dozer looked around the room, glaring. He muttered something in Russian that sounded confused. Back in the control centre, he was being watched by Zachariah and the tech controlling the weapon minigame room, leaning over a microphone.

  “This guy, the big one, he doesn’t speak any English, does he?” Zachariah said, “Shouldn’t we be running this through some translation software?”

  “Uh, it’s a pretty simple game, sir.” The tech said, “I’m sure he’ll get it.”

  Two sections of floor opened across the room from Dozer and Taka. Two hulking miniguns, similar to Dozer’s own, emerged through the gaps mounted on chest-high pylons. They were attached to huge drums of ammunition both twice the size of Dozer’s backpack. As Dozer and Taka were taking the guns in, the wall behind them flashed. Holographic depictions of a dozen foot-tall playing cards appeared on the wall, projected from some unseen source. Six pairs of different symbols blinked into existence on the cards, a pair of skulls on two squares, bullets on two, biohazard symbols on another two. They flashed there for several moments before the holographic cards flipped over.

  “You have ninety seconds to pick all six matching pairs for a weapon reward. Pick incorrectly and your time will be docked. Fail to complete the memory test and you will be filled with so many bullets there’ll be more holes than flesh left in your bodies.” The disguised voice of the tech said, “Your time starts now.”

  The twin miniguns whirred in readiness. Several huge numbers appeared on another wall, starting at ‘01:30:00’ and rapidly ticking down. Taka gestured at the wall and jabbered in confusion, never having seen such a game before. Unhurried, Dozer undid the strap of his ammo pack and let it and the minigun fall to the floor. Having missed the explanation in English, Dozer turned on his massive boots and stalked toward the two miniguns. With one huge hand, Dozer waved at Taka to hit the ground.

  “What’s he doing?” The tech, back in the control centre, said.

  “You decided to threaten a bulletproof man with bullets.” Zachariah Hawthorne said, “I don’t think it’s working.”

  The miniguns began to blur in warning, barrels spinning as Dozer got closer. The poles and ammo drums turned to follow him, laser sights under the barrels painting Dozer from point blank range. Dozer got almost within reach of the first gun platform before both weapons erupted. The noise was deafening inside the small room. Half a dozen barrels started firing on both weapons, glowing orange tracer rounds punching into Dozer’s body. Bullets tore holes in Dozer’s body armour and black clothing. With his flexible, subcutaneous armour, however, the rounds impacted against his body and left shallow cuts in the skin but failed to penetrate any further.

  Like a man fighting his way through a howling gale, Dozer lunged forward. Big hands grasped the casing around the first minigun’s body and he twisted. The machinery holding the gun in place ground and crunched, and he pointed it toward the second gun. The second minigun automatically turned to fire at Dozer as he hunkered behind the first platform, so effectively both miniguns were firing on each other.

  Rounds chewed through the bodies and mounted pylons for both miniguns. Ricochets meteored crazily throughout the room like fireworks while spent casings flew from both guns in firehose sprays. Lying on his stomach, Taka shielded his face and squirmed from side to side across the room, trying to avoid stray bullets.

  The mounting of the second gun gave way. Barrels still spinning, the weapon dropped back and broke free from its armoured ammunition belt. Dozer yanked up on the first minigun, pulling its bullet-scarred body free of the destroyed platform it had been moun
ted on. He tossed it indifferently across the room. Separated from their ammo belts, both weapons chattered for a few more moments and then stopped. Both ammunition drums were left unoccupied and full of bullets.

  A thick, brass carpet of expended shells and tiny links from the ammunition belts covered the floor. Previously featureless walls were covered in bullet holes and blackened scars. Dozer’s ears were shrieking from the noise but everything seemed eerily silent now the gunfire had stopped. Pain coursed through the giant’s body. Looking down at his hands, he saw they were mutilated from bullets and ricochets but intact. Blood trickled off his wrists and in some places the skin was cut open wide enough to expose the fine, silvery mesh that ran under the skin over his entire body, even over his knuckles and down to the tips of his fingers. In spite of the hundreds of pinprick injuries across his chest and massive arms, his enhanced blood was already starting to clot. New flesh would grow over the exposed subcutaneous mesh eventually, much faster than it would for an unenhanced human. In the meantime, the pain meant little to him. Nothing compared much to his experience of being genetically enhanced and having the armour surgically implanted in him in the first place.

  The game of Memory was still projected on the wall across from Dozer, and the red numbers were counting down from ninety seconds. They blinked and disappeared suddenly, as if embarrassed. The genderless and mechanical voice returned with what sounded suspiciously like someone clearing their throat.

  “Uh, yes, well, a classically educated solution to the problem. Like-, uh, Hercules cutting through the Gordian Knot.” The voice said, still in English, “Good use of both brains and brawn there, contestant.”

  The door to the room opened, freeing them. No compartment of weapons opened in any of the walls, however. Taka gathered himself back up, free of bullet holes, and shook out some loose casings that had rolled across the floor and into his clothing.

  “Can-, go now?” Taka said.