by Lee Bond
“Now if you weren’t like every other assbutt intent on destroying everything, all chock full of hubris and ego, you’d know what I was gonna do. But you’re just the same, ain’t ya?” Garth wished he hadn’t been forced into this situation, really, really wished.
Garth raised his hands and pushed them against the hungry edge of this second deadly machine, drawing on his experiences of last time to speed things along.
“Let’s do this.” He whispered. Thick black streamers poured freely from his fingers, subverted nanotech hastening to redirect the flow of terrible energy emanating from the disc’s engines.
The disintegration cylinder groaned like a wounded elephant as tiny, jagged cracks appeared in the field.
“I’m comin’ for ya, Agnethea, just … just hold on.” Garth pushed his open hands further into the field. Doing so was reckless and dangerous and could totally result in the loss of his arms, but whatever. Too many innocent –by his standard- people had died for him already. Agnethea wasn’t going down like that.
***
Against her will, Agnethea’s tongue continued probing the split flesh of her lip, pushing at the open wound incessantly, driving tiny –and oddly thrilling- spikes of pain through her head. She snapped her singlesticks against one another in frustration and launched herself at her opponent again, intent on driving the King back into the middle of the courtyard. Allowing herself to get trapped against a wall was how she’d earned herself a split lip and bruised ribs in the first place and it couldn’t be allowed to happen again.
“You do realize,” The shiny simulacra demanded mockingly, “that We could kill you at any time?” They slapped the sputtering, spitting lightning singlesticks out of the way with languid, open-handed sweeps, “that as a child of Iron, a snap of the fingers will unspool you back into the nothingness from which you came?”
It was almost pathetic, watching the Queen of Dark Golems fight so desperately. Comical, too, for though she was who she was and had brought terror –at one time or another- to all corners of Arcade City, never would she be the equal of any man or woman who’d come to Arcadia to stand where she stood: she was a Golem. There was no way ‘neath The Dome for her to rise to the challenge of the spirit that battling Them demanded.
It was, quite simply, impossible. And although the mystery of her ability to wield Garth’s summoned weapons continued to be a bit puzzling, it wasn’t worth Their effort; the Kin’kithal had managed to pull off a few things under The Dome that hadn’t specifically followed the train of their desires, after all. Better to focus on wasting time with the Queen, thereby allowing Garth the opportunity he needed to save Chad from the sham-Lord’s own Gauntlet.
“Then why,” Agnethea spun deftly in a circle, using the momentum of the King’s defense to drive the next two blows that much faster, that much harder, one stick aimed for that smugly royal mirror-face, the other for the legs, “bother with this charade, Master Metalface? If I am such an easy mark, as Garth would say, do as you intend then move on with things.”
They had time to block the head-destined stick, but the second one slammed into their knees at precisely the same time, delivering a shocking amount of damage; several thousand nanotech units, all floating in the shimmering vehicle of Will that was Their glorious body shorted out from the vicious assault. They stepped back, unable to believe that the Queen had been able to land a telling blow. Nanotech hive mind whirling, they replaced the damaged units instantly.
What had N’Chalez done to this … Golem, that she was capable of bringing Them harm when a mighty Kin’kithal’s efforts had been wind through a tunnel?
“Timing is the thing, Queen.” They taunted, hoping to distract their willful daughter from realizing how telling a blow she’d landed. As much as They didn’t want to do this, They needed to draw things out so They could gain a better understanding of what had been done to the Obsidian Golem without Their being aware of it.
They almost immediately regretted the move: the Queen’s jaw set itself into a most firm depiction of determination as they’d ever seen and unmistakable resolve settled across her body.
They resumed, Their voice full of rational words. “N’Chalez has adapted to Arcade City better than we anticipated. His mastery of Will is more inclusive than We like, and We simply cannot risk the possibility that he would sense your death. Too soon …”
The Platinum King’s explanation was cut short by a terrible groaning sound that echoed harshly through empty Arcadia. Tilting their head to one side, They pushed outward with Their consciousness, rapidly hurtling through the various strata of the city, questing for the source. The pinprick indentations of the five Menagerie members were circling hungrily around the Armory, each of them eagerly anticipating the moment they got to do for someone as impressive as Garth Nickels. They even felt poor Chad Sikkmund, fully trapped by the Soul Machine at long last, wreathed in sweat and drenched in nightmares.
Another groan wrenched torturously through the air.
They redoubled their efforts. They could not find Garth N’Chalez and then … it dawned on Them; the very miasma they’d created to hide their Golems from King’s sight had been adopted into his subconscious defense systems! They’d never noticed before because the damned outsider had either been in the company of the King or Agnethea, both of whom were easily traceable.
Agnethea grinned despite her wounds. Were it not for Master Nickel’s adjustments, the Golem knew instinctively that her lot in life would’ve been as her foe claimed; a simple click of the fingers and she’d be a smattering of code on the ground.
Yet changed she was, just not completely, not yet; The Platinum King’s ploy to lure Garth away had taken root too quickly, the reformation of her insides not quite finished. The strange and awful-sounding noises erupting through the city were keeping the King distracted, for which the Golem was pleased.
“Problem, mine metal King?” Agnethea took a deep breath. Her ribs were definitely bruised, and at least one was cracked.
Another terrific groan plied the airwaves.
“Your traveling companion…” They suddenly realized where N’Chalez was reasoned out quickly just what the Kin’kithal was up to. It was … shocking. “Your companion is insane.”
It had to be some other thing N’Chalez was up to, something equally destructive; if it was what They feared, their would-be puppet was utterly, utterly insane. He risked his life!
For a thing!
Agnethea nodded wholeheartedly. “Insanity comes in many different flavors, mon roi de platine, doesn’t it?” Gripping onto her singlesticks tightly, lest her quicksilver opponent decide the moment had come to end it all rather than discourse like proper ancient things, Agnethea laughed. “What did you expect? You put the man in a bind, between the old rock and a hard place, as they say. Have you figured out what it is he’s trying to recreate? I have, and just by the sound alone.”
They wished suddenly that they hadn’t been so wise, so tricky, so manipulative. Between Davram’s tumultuous explosion –designed to blind the real King, with the sudden, sad side effect of blinding them as well- and the natural miasma camouflage to protect their creations, the Dark Golems, being absorbed or mimicked by Garth, there was no real way to know for certain just what it was the Kin’kithal was doing.
Another groan streaked through the air, followed quickly by a loud klaxon alarm that was abruptly shut down.
They shook their head. Garth N’Chalez was where Agnethea had ever so subtly implied, and not only was he trying to do it, that aborted alarm siren splitting the air was all the indication They needed that he was –for the time being- successful.
“Insanity.” They began circling the Queen once more, ever wary of those dreaded singlesticks. Their various parts were having difficult in coming to a communal agreement as to even the style of change –let alone the totality of those changes- as had been done to the creature before them.
Agnethea swatted an outstretched platinum hand, lips quirk
ing in amusement when a shock of pain rippled across the shiny metal surface of the King’s queer face. Whatever else Master Nickels had done to the weapons seemed to be having the desired effect. “Which?” she caroled tauntingly, skipping this way and that. Her ribs were better, it seemed. “Your plan, or his?”
“Our plan,” They decided to formally forego hand-to-hand combat against the Queen of Dark Golems by summoning up a set of wicked, jagged edged buzzswords to offset the brute force weapons being brought against them, “has and always will be flawless. Countless thousands of years, Agnethea, working slowly against the King to bring us to this point, where We are free…”
The Queen slapped a hungry-bladed buzzsword out of the way, narrowly avoided being spitted like a pig by the second one. For her ‘luck’, she received a nasty, flesh-mangled gash across her left side that stung ferociously. “Free-ish.” She taunted.
They stared at the thick, rich blood pouring freely out of the wound They’d given Agnethea. It seemed … off, somehow, though in all truth, They’d never had much cause to lay ‘eyes’ on the lifeblood belonging to Golems. The saturation levels were different ‘twixt them and their counterparts, the Brigadiers, and gearheads themselves were no way to measure, for their blood was thick as molasses and stained irredeemably black until they began moving in.
And yet again, the miasma prevented them from seeing what needed seeing. They lashed out once more, sharp, chuckling blades filling the courtyard with hungry noise. Agnethea lost a length of hair in the exchange but came out otherwise unscathed.
“Garth N’Chalez’ plan is insane,” they said reasonably, “Which is why…”
Agnethea mounted a surprising attack, a staggering combination of spin kicks and flicking singlesticks, so bewildering in speed and motion that the King was unable to match her move for move. Coming out of a high-flying roundhouse kick she knew was destined to miss, Agnethea drubbed her antagonist on the top of the head with all of the strength she could muster.
The singlestick’s lightning-racked ‘edge’ bludgeoned the monarch so profoundly that it screamed, literally screamed as it scrambled backwards.
Landing neatly on her feet, flicking her singlesticks this way and that, enjoying the feel of the electricity hissing against her skin, Agnethea confronted the surprised Platinum King with a jaunty, saucy smile.
It’s countenance was much different than it’d been only a few moments ago. Sudden realization that all was not well in it’s fake kingdom in addition to the thorough drubbing it’d just taken across it’s monarchic pate had it’s ever-shifting, sinuously liquid mug had stolen full control away; betwixt sneers, jeers and angry scowls, there were momentary flash of dubious concern, outright fear and … well, they were spasms, weren’t they, similar in nature to the ripples caused by a child throwing a stone into a quiet pond.
Agnethea tsked. “For all his arrogance, his overweening pride and colossal ego, somehow it seems to me, Roi de Platine, that his enemies still manage to underestimate Garth Nickels. Is what he plans madness? I surely think it must be. I do not imagine he will take the same route as Davram Solan, for he understands the technology behind the hungry disc, but madness it is, or would seem to you, for if he is off in his calculations by even a degree, the desperate necessity fueling his decision to make this attempt will result in the very thing he seeks to prevent.”
They struggled to regain control of their various, vast and numerous parts. The jagged-edged bolt of lightning delivered by the blackly glittering singlesticks held by the Dark Golem had riven a wide path through their entire being, leaving behind a –to their consciousness, anyway- a chasm of emptiness. They’d missed something, something important, something … terrible. It didn’t matter, though. N’Chalez wouldn’t be successful in his mad endeavor. The Menagerie had figured out what their foe was doing and were even then making haste to his position.
At last, They regained control of Their body. Replacing the juddering reflection of their emotional state with the cool repose of a regal monarch once more, They addressed Agnethea. “Does this not bother you?” They demanded loudly. “That he would rather cause your death by his own hand? What friend would do such? Take such a risk, when in any outcome, you will be dead anyway? Knowing this, would it not make more sense for him to do what needs doing, for his greater purpose? No friend would kill another.”
Agnethea felt the wound in her side stitch itself shut, felt the warmth flowing through her grow fiercer still. The Queen couldn’t quite figure out how Master Nickels had known this moment –or a moment similar to this one- would appear, yet it seemed he had, and had quite accurately predicted her role in it. “Master Nickels, my dear King, is the sort of man who would rather carry the burden of a friend’s death on his own shoulders than to bear witness to another doing so. In his mind, if I must die by his hand as opposed to your own, he will … rest easier. For his plan, should he miscalculate, will perforce cause both our immediate and total obliteration. No pain, you see? Just an … end. Now come. I would rather be beating you silly when that end comes than lounging about.”
The Platinum King rushed the Queen of Dark Golems. Sapphire-runed lightning sticks collided with liquid metal buzzswords.
***
Floating, illuminated thick sections of air –highly stylized as per Barnie’s demands but reminiscent of Latelian-style Sheets nevertheless- hovered on all sides; each one of the floating glass-like sheets reflected a different bit of the fairly complex code running the disintegration disc’s machinery.
Garth tapped his way through the layer upon layer of code, forehead beetling as he struggled to make sense of the sloppy code. It didn’t make a lot of sense, not really. Oh sure, the coding worked and the disc did as it was supposed to do, so at the end of the day Garth supposed it really didn’t matter how rough the code was, except … it was bugging him.
The Platinum King had been –more or less- working behind the scenes for a terrifically long time to bring a moment similar to this one around, where it could win it’s freedom from Barnabas Blake and do the thing that most nanotech seemed to want to do when given half the chance, which was make everything like itself.
Kind of like high school, really. Garth shuddered as he rewrote a scraggly-ass piece of code longer than his forearm into something more elegant. He remembered high school. He’d gone for about a week and a half when his Father had decided it was time to be more normal.
It’d wound up being like a super-terrible knock-off version of Teen Wolf, except with way less awesome basketball sequences and genuine, tearjerker moments of self-discovery and more interstate police chases, explosions and at least three rounds of hurt feelings and an abrupt yet unsurprising decision to move to the other end of the United States and a name change.
“Not made to be normal, I suppose.” Still, he reflected as he switched to another Sheet, shaking his head at the now-redundant code –the three lines he’d just keyed in had made this entire swathe utterly useless- it wasn’t his fault. You just don’t force a Kin’kithal teenager into doing Glee Club. That’s, like, top of the list of shit you don’t do. “I couldn’t carry a tune if it was spot-welded to my forehead.”
Garth erased the useless code and collapsed the Sheet into thin air. The remaining five screens jostled into better positions. One of them, more baroque than the others –seriously, if it was a real thing made of metal, it’d weigh in the neighborhood of two hundred pounds, with all the filigree and fancily carved bits of metal- flashed a bit, drawing the Engineer’s attention away from the task at hand.
He tapped a fingernail on the glowing light thoughtfully. This Sheet, unlike the others, was tied directly into the disintegration field emanating from the disc itself. Moments after hacking into the crudely written programming, it’d popped into his head that he could use the field itself as a kind of tracking system; working off the principle that –somewhere in the programming- there were protocol-snippets for each and every type of matter currently existing insi
de Arcade City, it’d been the work of a few minutes to generate a non-lethal carrier wave that bounced and skipped through Arcadia, illuminating everything that needed disintegrating.
Like this whole ‘Menagerie’ bullshit the Platinum King was so hyped up about.
Well, not the whole of the King’s City. Well, okay, he could’ve done it that way, only at the risk of weakening the disc to the point where the hot light moving ever closer to his position probably could’ve pushed through to the Garth-filled center. If there was one thing to be gleaned from the Platinum King’s comments concerning Barnie’s Menagerie, it was that –for all intents and purposes- the freaks and geeks making it up were similar in nature to the weirdoes and one-offs that Trinity collected like an obsessive-compulsive Pokemon player.
Four more lights popped onto the Sheet.
Garth tsked. “Too bad for you guys. If only your boss the Platinum King hadn’t been so super smart, eh? A ten block radius of instakill? That’s, like, twice as big as all the others. Guess it wanted to make sure that when this fucker landed in Arcadia that the Matrons got got. But unless you got super special abilities that include being immune to the stuff that made you, I win. You lose.”
The Sheet behind him chimed gently and flashed a very cool, calming cucumber green while the Alarm Sheet showed the bits of light representing Menagerie members hot and bothered to do for him –little did they know that in the grand pageantry that was PK’s long-term plan they were nothing more than amuse-bouches designed to slow him down- were spreading out along the edge of the disc’s deadly field.
Garth snapped his fingers, and the Update Sheet whisked into position. The Engineer grinned. Every bit of matter in the whole of Arcadia had been tabulated and loaded into the machine’s compiler. Every deceased man, woman and child, every clockwork tree and towering Wisteria, every freak and every geek. Even Agnethea and PK the Wannabe Special Effect had been entered into the system, though for obvious reasons, he bracketed the former’s … DNA sequencing into an untouchable category and the latter was … well, the latter was inviolate all on it’s own.