Kill Switch: Final Season

by Sean E. Britten

  Before Layla could repeat herself there was a throaty snarl from the back of the courtyard. The pack of mutant lions had moved around them, sensing an opportunity amidst all the chaos. The male lion and two of the lionesses prowled low, circling the mercs. Layla and Tommy happened to be closest to the pack. The lion shook his shaggy head from side to side, baring his fangs, and the animal charged.

  “Give us a break!” Tommy yelled.

  Layla shot upright but stood her ground as if confronting a big dog and not the king of the jungle. Servos whined in her cybernetic arm and down her left side. Mechanics in Layla’s left leg straightened it out and rooted her booted foot against the pavers. The metal structure down her left side and leg acted as an anchor and allowed her to perform incredible acts of strength.

  The lion lunged, roaring, and threw itself at Layla. Layla’s left hand snapped out and grabbed the quarter-tonne beast by the throat. Arm extended, she lifted it higher and held the lion away from her body. The creature snarled and clawed at Layla’s light grey, armoured limb. Layla winced, she could support the lion’s weight with her outstretched hand, choking it, but it was thrashing wildly. She swiveled and pitched the lion sideways. The big cat whipped around and rolled, snarling, until it regained its footing.

  Meanwhile, the two female lions moved behind some of the mercs. While the pack leader had charged in the two lionesses slunk carefully, hunting for a weak member of the group. Many of the mercs were distracted and firing on Dozer. Seeing an opportunity, the lionesses lunged and took down one of the mercenaries from behind. The man named Blomkamp yelled through his mask, scrabbling, as the lionesses yanked him backward and threw him to the ground while clawing and biting. The others surrounding Blomkamp leapt back and opened fire on the lionesses. They kept dragging the unlucky merc away from the others while shrugging off the bullets, too vicious and starved to care.

  “Time to take your spinach!” Digger said.

  Digger removed the injector from his webbing, handing it to Homer. Suddenly, bullets ripped through the sedan they were hidden behind again, hammering into the engine block. Something tore open and old oil sprayed into the air in a greasy, glistening arc. Digger and Homer were both battered by shrapnel. The white tube of the injector was jerked out of Homer’s hand. It skittered across the dusty asphalt and into the gutter. Trash and pieces of destruction littered the ground. Before Digger could react, rounds shattered the lip of the gutter and covered the area in dust. The injector was temporarily lost.

  “Shit!” Digger said, “Where the hell did that damn thing go?”

  The alpha lion hurled itself at Layla again, clawing and snarling. Tommy hung back and filmed. He knew his partner was tough but what he was seeing was almost unbelievable. Layla swung her balled left fist and hit the lion in the face like a sledgehammer. The creature reeled and blood sprayed out of its mouth. Layla felt a measure of sympathy for the animal but she had to get this over with. It came back at the soldier, clawing at her legs, and she lunged over the top of it. Wrapping the lion up in a headlock with her mechanical arm, Layla yanked it back. She cinched through its mane and twisted until she heard a muffled crunch. Thrashing, the lion went limp under Layla and crashed to the ground like a rug.

  Across the courtyard, Blomkamp was struggling under the weight of the two rabid lionesses. Ellis and another mercenary named Cho ran through the firestorm of bullets, rifles pressed to their shoulders. They fired, careful not to hit Blomkamp. Combined, the two of them took down one of the lionesses and it flipped over with paws swatting at invisible enemies as it died. The other lioness was almost certainly fatally wounded but kept fighting through pure bloodlust. Blomkamp had lost his weapon and was clawing at the mutant lioness’ face, screaming, as it mauled his shoulder.

  Layla climbed off the male lion. Carrying her P90 in her right hand, Layla drew the massive revolver from its holster under her right arm. She thumbed back the hammer on the heavy calibre Raging Bull handgun and fired. Layla’s mechanical hand and arm easily absorbed the recoil. The first bullet ripped through the lioness’ shoulder. Its legs became jellied and it released Blomkamp, staggering sideways. Layla adjusted her aim and fired twice more. One side of the lioness’ head exploded, spraying brains and fragments of skull into the air behind it. The lioness crumbled into a heap of fur, muscle and red rash.

  Blomkamp’s armour was covered in scratches and teeth marks but it had held together in one piece. The man awkwardly clamoured upright and retrieved his weapon. Dozer had seen the commotion and the big Russian circled around, continuing to unload with his screaming minigun. Blomkamp, Ellis and Cho were forced to run toward the buildings for cover. Layla and Tommy backed away, Layla clutching both guns in front of her.

  While the Russian supersoldier’s attention was drawn toward the mercs, Digger went to look for the dropped injector. Before he could find it though, a low growl reverberated from the mouth of the nearby alley. It was the two-faced lioness, drool running off her twisted, double-jointed jaws, her limbs and sides thick with red rash. The lioness seemed bigger than the others, the alpha female of the pack.

  “Oh, you bitch!” Digger said.

  Rolling sideways, Digger grappled with his H&K UMP45 and brought it to bear. The submachine gun thundered as Digger fired wildly over the lioness’ head. The animal wheeled then started to pounce, teeth and claws at the ready.

  The girl, Echo Three, appeared behind the lioness’ flank. She had her red fire axe raised in both hands and she brought it down hard between the big cat’s shoulder blades. The blade buried itself with a meaty whack. The lioness yowled and spun around, taking the axe with her as it was jammed between her shoulders. Echo leapt back to avoid the lioness’ scything talons.

  “Stay back there, mate!” Digger said to Homer.

  Warding Homer back, Digger fired again and .45 slugs tore into the lioness’ side. The animal whirled on him, being attacked from both sides. Settling back on her haunches, the lioness pounced but Digger dropped and she sailed over him. She landed in the street where Dozer was still firing his minigun and scampered away.

  Taka poked his head out from the doorway where Dozer had emerged. The boy was cradling his wood-furnished AKM, gold chains dangling across his body armour. Taka was a hardened killer but in many ways still a child. Dozer appeared to be almost indestructible. As bloodied and battered as he was, he’d sent the seemingly well-equipped mercs in their fancy armour running for their lives. Even though Taka had been placed with Dozer as a deliberate liability, he’d started to think that invincibility was rubbing off on him as well.

  Smoke and flying bullets filled the road. Taka could see the other contestants, Digger, Homer and Echo, across the road from them. Dozer was absorbed in fighting the mercenaries in the other direction. Taka didn’t understand who the mercenaries were, unable to understand what they’d tried to tell Dozer and himself. He did understand though that the object of the game was to kill the other contestants, not whoever the men and women in the white armour were. Raising the AKM to his shoulder, Taka fired off a short burst.

  “What the fuck?” Digger yelled.

  Bullets exploded the front of the car near Digger’s head. Homer yanked on Digger’s shoulder and pointed toward Taka across the road. Digger wrestled his UMP into position and fired back but the boy soldier disappeared again.

  Taka laughed as .45 slugs erupted across the top of the low wall above his head. Suddenly, there was a chainsaw snarl off to Taka’s right. He looked around to see the mutant lion pack’s alpha female stalking up the sidewalk beside him while he’d been distracted. Echo’s red axe was wiggling between the lioness’ shoulders. Her lips pulled back from a gnarled mess of crisscrossing fangs. Before Taka could react the lioness was on top of him, pouncing, and she knocked him to the ground with her massive paws. Malformed jaws yawned and latched onto Taka’s neck. Taka’s throat popped, blood hosing out of the lioness’ mouth as she wrenched his head and neck up and down savagely.

  The b
racelet on Dozer’s right forearm started to wail. In spite of all the damage Dozer and his body armour had taken, the kill switch sleeve was entirely intact. The massive Russian supersoldier, face covered in blood, looked down in shock. The silvery sleeve had been specially designed for the giant with his subdermal armour and before Dozer could react there was a high-pitched whine inside the bracelet, which was slightly bulkier than the sleeves worn by other contestants. Diamond-tipped drill bits sunk into Dozer’s flesh. The needles injected an extra potent mix of adrenaline and deadly chemicals into Dozer’s bloodstream, enough to kill a normal man in seconds.

  Dozer bellowed, whirling around to search out what had killed his partner. His finger came off the trigger of his compact minigun for a moment. The barrels continued to spin as Dozer backed up to where Taka had gone down. He spotted the two-faced lioness hunched over Taka’s body, feeding. Blood spilled in a wide pool around Taka as the lioness chewed through his neck. Three eyes blazing, the lioness glanced up in defiance with Taka’s blood covering its deformed muzzle. Amped up on chems, Dozer let out a yell of rage and anguish. Dozer squeezed his minigun again and the weapon howled. Bullets ripped through the air and tore into the already injured lioness, carving through her from one end to the other. Gore spraying, the lioness was flipped inside out, blown across the sidewalk next to Taka.

  “EMP! Someone toss me another EMP!” Layla yelled.

  Ellis, the mercenary with a personal enmity against Digger, threw Layla a small cylinder. P90 hanging off her side, Layla caught the grenade in her right hand. Even with his partner dead, Layla wasn’t convinced Dozer’s kill switch would be enough to take him out.

  Tears spilled down the Russian’s bloody face, covered in bullet holes. Crying out in anger, Dozer turned back on the mercs with his whirling minigun and opened fire. He still didn’t understand what part the mercenaries in white armour were playing in their game and he no longer cared. As the bomb on his wrist counted down, Dozer erupted with a fresh firestorm using the minigun. The belt of ammunition seemed to disappear into the minigun’s receiver faster than ever, spewing cartridges into the air. Tracers and regular bullets shredded through the restaurants and stores around the courtyard as Dozer waved the minigun back and forth.

  The sleeve on Dozer’s wrist exploded, the supersoldier disappearing inside an orange fireball for a second time. The shockwave rippled through the street. Dust and shrapnel was blasted in an expanding bubble as flame towered over the surrounding ruins. Whatever was left of Dozer was blown sideways in a flaming heap, although the earlier blasts hadn’t left enough of their contestants to really count for anything. He smashed into the side of an abandoned sedan as the blastwave rocked the vehicle.

  “Alright, no one could survive that!” Digger yelled as the blast faded, “Just so we’re clear, anyone taking bets?”

  The explosion echoed away. Smoke wafted and was carried away by a sudden breeze. Mercenaries from the courtyard reformed and pointed their guns at the shattered car hit by what remained of Dozer. Blood leaked down the side of the car and pooled through the fragments of glass, metal and meat lying scattered across the asphalt.

  Groaning, Dozer picked himself back up. His minigun and belts of ammunition had been blown to pieces. In spite of his subcutaneous armour and extraordinary toughness, Dozer’s right arm had been blasted completely off at the shoulder. A smoldering crater of raw flesh was left where it had been. Even with the drugs and high explosives, however, Dozer was impossibly still alive. Most of the top layers of skin had been scorched from Dozer’s body, revealing the chicken wire of his subdermal body armour. Eyes wild amidst his blackened and bloodied face. he lumbered upright. Without his weapon, Dozer started to stomp toward the mercenaries.

  “Okay, motherfucker, time to go to sleep.” Layla said.

  Layla strode forward with her Taurus Raging Bull revolver raised. She emptied the hand cannon into Dozer’s head from across the street. Bleeding from his right shoulder, Dozer reeled as if feeling punchy. Once she’d gone through the cylinder, Layla shoved the big revolver back into its holster and kept moving, holding the EMP grenade in her right fist.

  Dozer was crazed and incoherent, roaring as he threw himself toward Layla. His remaining fist swung around in a wide arc. Layla plowed inward with her left fist as well. She ducked Dozer and made contact, her mechanical fist crashing into Dozer’s jaw. The Russian’s bulbous head rocked back on his neck. Layla hit him again and bone crackled under Dozer’s armoured mesh as the giant staggered backward. Dozer’s jaw gaped, crooked, with drool leaking off his bottom lip. Layla thumbed the spoon off the EMP grenade in her right fist and jammed her thumb down on a button hidden underneath. Layla’s right hand shot forward and hammered the EMP grenade into Dozer’s mouth. The big man stumbled backward with his jaw dangling open and the grenade sticking out of his mouth.

  Layla leapt backward, gaining as much distance as she could. The EMP would fry her mechanical arm if it didn’t melt her brain first. The grenade exploded, a burst of bright orange light like a firework. Dozer’s face was roasted off the front of his skull. One remaining arm waving, Dozer tumbled to the ground. The yawning silence that followed, after the gunshots and explosions, was deafening.

  “Fucking Russians.” Layla said.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Where else can you see the explosion of colours of Saint Basil's Cathedral, the glittering sphere of Baiterek Tower, or visit the picturesque town of Ushguli, one of the highest settlements in Europe?”

  “Where else can you ski the slopes of Shymbulak all throughout winter? Trek the outskirts of Karakul, formed from a massive impact crater, or play a few rounds of buzkashi with the boys?”

  “Where else can you try genuine borsch made by five star chefs, or grab a horse meat sausage from a Kyrgyz street vendor? Or sip on Saperavi wines from the Kakheti region?”

  “Where else? Take a peek behind the Iron Curtain.”

  Soviet Union Tourism - We’re Getting the Band Back Together.

  Of the twelve mercenaries that had entered the arena only eight remained. Layla, Tommy and the rest of their team regrouped. Strugatsky and Cameron, their armour broken and bloody, were laid out on the sidewalk opposite Dozer’s body. Both riddled with bullets. The group couldn’t afford to take bodies with them so they tried to make them look peaceful. The big Russian, his brain fried and with only one arm, lay where he had fallen and the survivors would have struggled to shift him if they’d had any desire to move him as well.

  “We need to keep moving, after we shut this place down we’ll come back for them.” Layla said.

  Digger and Homer, along with Echo, joined the mercenaries. After Dozer had gone down, Digger had rooted around in the gutter and managed to come up with Homer’s final, lost injector. He stuffed it back into his pocket. Echo found the dead two-faced lioness next to the body of the former child soldier it had killed and recovered her fire axe.

  “Where’s the other one? Where’s Klou?” Layla said.

  “Took off again.” Echo Three said, “When all the fighting started, ran back the way we came.”

  “Shit, someone needs to go get him.” Layla said, “As long as he hasn’t gotten too far.”

  “I’ll do it!” Blomkamp said.

  Blomkamp, the mercenary who’d been taken down by the two lionesses, seemed embarrassed. His armour was scuffed and covered in claw marks. Gathering himself to his full height, he checked his weapon and tried to brush off the damage to his suit.

  “Cho, go with him.” Layla said.

  “No, don’t worry about it! One civilian with a messed up arm? I think I can handle it!” Blomkamp said.

  The South African mercenary took off down the road before Layla could respond, eager to prove himself again. Other mercs were busy reloading weapons, checking their armour or grabbing equipment off the two pack mules that had been following them.

  “Might as well let him go, Klou I mean.” Digger said, “Where’s Herr Doktor going to go an
yway?”

  Blomkamp moved quickly down the street in the direction he assumed Dr Klou had gone. Empty intersections yawned around him. Buildings that should have held tens of thousands of people stood empty, towering over him like giant tombs, thick with pontic plants and other life that had taken root since being deserted.

  Blomkamp fanned out at the next corner with his weapon raised. A lone figure paced half a block away from him, in a white lab coat with dark hair and a blackened arm. Klou had headed down the street but found it cut off by one of the arena walls, leading to a dead end. Rubble piled around the base of the wall.

  “Freeze! Stay right where you are!” Blomkamp yelled.

  Blomkamp trained his gun between Klou’s shoulders as he closed in. Klou slumped in defeat and started to turn. The first time Klou had tried to run he’d claimed to have panicked but that excuse wouldn’t work twice, and when they got back Blomkamp would make sure they slapped some flex-cuffs around his wrists and ankles. If the doctor didn’t get himself killed then the mercenaries would hand Klou off to the authorities once they left the arena.

  Both of Klou’s sleeves were rolled up, right revealing his defunct kill switch bracelet and the left showing off his long, scaly arm. Circling to face Blomkamp, Klou dropped to his knees in surrender.

  “Move at all and I’ll fill you with holes, cousin.” Blomkamp said, “I’ve seen what your experiments did, trying to create a new kind of supersoldier. You’re a real sick bastard, you know that?”

  Blomkamp moved in until his gun barrel was pressed against the scientist’s forehead. Too close, but the war criminal looked so helpless and defeated on his knees. Suddenly, Klou’s normal, right hand swept around and grappled with Blomkamp’s gun, knocking it aside. Blomkamp thought the doctor was trying to take the gun and wrenched it easily out of Klou’s grasp. Klou’s other hand, however, formed a spearlike point with his talons. He jammed it into Blomkamp’s midsection with the speed of a rattlesnake. Blomkamp let out a grunt of surprise and doubled over.