There was a brief pause before the two rushed at him as if without fear, despite the fact they knew they couldn’t win. It was clear they were more terrified of Bolormaa than they were of death at his hands. He ducked under one of their cuts, severing the first one’s front legs and embedding his blade in the other’s stomach. Blood poured from its wounds, but it took hold of the shaft of his Assegai and pulled itself in closer to get within reach of the Colonel.
He let go of the blade, took hold of the creature’s head, and snapped its neck. He drew out the Assegai and paced over to the last one that was writhing in pain as blood poured out across the deck. It was still trying to reach him. He stumbled forward onto its arms and clawed forward. Taylor put his boot on its back and forced it flat to the ground, thrusting his Assegai deep into the soldier’s head. The blade penetrated the floor below before he drew it back out. He took a few paces back to get some distance between him and the two Princes, taking up position amongst the trail of enemy dead, not saying a word. He showed no fear and stood bolt upright as if to challenge Bolormaa’s authority. Her face showed no emotion at all, but he could see in her body language that she was not her usual self.
They both knew the AR2 suit provided a chance to even the odds to her, and that had to be a unique experience for the enemy Queen.
She has long been accustomed to opponents that can never pose a threat to her, and now she faces some real danger, she must be terrified.
Or that is what he was hoping and telling himself. He wondered if she would turn and run, although deep down he wished she wouldn’t. As much as he didn’t want to face her, it was a necessity now. Her ship the Leviathan could destroy them at a moment’s notice, as well as what remained of the fleet. Her sons looked to her for orders, and she gestured for them to go forward, together.
This was enough of a challenge in itself, and something no man had ever faced, or would wish on any other. A single Prince had almost killed Taylor, and that felt a lifetime ago. He clenched his open left hand and felt the power of the suit surge through his body. He was ready.
One of them drew a two-handed mace that looked like nothing more than a cannonball on an iron bar. He grasped it, and the head began to glow and spark. Whatever kind of weapon it was, there was a massive amount of energy there.
The other carried what looked like a sword hilt, but with a coiled-up blade as though it were a whip. He released the blade, and it dropped to the ground. Three blades, four metres long and flexible as though they were made of rope, and yet they glimmered like steel with razor sharp edges, glowing with a hint of blue as if they too had some power source.
Now he wished he had brought support with him. He felt naked without any help. He had to depend on the suit. He knew what it could do, and the bloody evidence at his feet was all the proof of that which he needed.
The Princes advanced and encircled him, but he stood his ground confidently. He didn’t even know their names and didn’t care to ask. They weren’t the size and strength of Zaya, and that was a relief, but neither would be a pushover. He thought back to the one that fell when they’d rescued Jones, and he was beginning to wonder if it had just been luck then. They knew what they were dealing with now, and that was casting doubt in his mind, at a time when he needed to remain clear-headed. He activated his shield in readiness for what was about to come.
The mace-carrying Prince lunged forward and swung for him. The weapon was clearly heavy but moved at a pace far quicker than he expected. He ducked under it, but only narrowly. His foe let the momentum carry it up over his head and then brought it down with a thunderous strike as if to flatten Taylor. He leapt aside. The ball struck the metal deck of the floor and caused it to buckle. One of the metal sheets sprung up from the impact and catapulted Taylor off his feet. He stumbled over, but was soon on one knee and back on his feet. He wouldn’t be caught off guard a second time. He had underestimated the weapon based on its appearance and felt foolish for doing so. He squared off against the creature again, expecting it to take a swing. Instead it lunged forward and launched the mace forward with its backhand as it let the other slip off. Now the weapon was truly coming at him like a cannonball. He voided to the side, and sparks of lightning lashed onto his armour as it passed him by.
He raised his Assegai to cut the creature’s weapon hand from its body, but as he brought the blade down, the whip blade of the other Prince lashed out. It snapped onto his Assegai, and sparks flew like a cutting disc on metal. He didn’t have time to even think what to do, and as the Prince yanked the whip back, he maintained his grip on the Assegai but was launched off the ground with it.
Taylor soared towards the other Prince, but his weapon was locked in the whip’s grasp. He had only his body now as he flew past the creature. He punched to its face, and the beast stumbled back, as he crashed into the ground and landed empty-handed. He couldn’t hold onto his weapon any longer and felt a sharp pain in the hand that had been holding it. Sparks of light like lightning sizzled across his armour, smoke was rising where they were biting into his armour, and his arm twitched from the power surges.
The mace wielder came at him again. Taylor rushed up under the swing and took hold of the shaft of the weapon. He punched to the Prince to the rib and another to the face. They were powerful blows that hit like a hammer. The creature recoiled, but it was as if he were hitting with his bare hands against another human.
Are we truly on equal footing?
That was a terrifying thought. The lash of the whip came at him once again, and he lifted his shield in defence, but the blades went over it and wrapped onto his arm. They cut deeply into his armour and sparks flew. His shield flickered and began to fail, finally cutting out entirely. All he had left was his two hands and the power the suit gave them.
He pulled the arm up with the whip and wrapped it around the throat of the other Prince before punching him to the face. Finally, he was set free and stumbled back. But the ensnared Prince kicked him with one of its front legs, and he was thrown back against the arena wall with such immense force he embedded several centimetres into the wall. He pulled himself out, but the mace came at him, and he was still a little stunned. The ball hit like a train with a gigantic swing with both hands.
He was thrown back to the wall and burst through it. The wind was knocked out of him, and he felt his chest compress where the armour gave way slightly. He got back up onto one knee but was keeled over. As he coughed, he felt blood coming up and hitting the faceplate inside. It was a horrible feeling, and he knew if he didn’t get back up, he would die there and then. He looked out through the breach in the wall. He was in absolute darkness, and they could not see where he had gotten to. The dust also caused him to blend in further. Both were approaching the breach. He didn’t want to die there. His work wasn’t done yet.
He dug down deep to muster up every ounce of energy he had left. This was it, everything he had ever done in his life had led up to this, and he wasn’t willing to fail now at the final hurdle. He leaned forward while still in a crouched position, as if poised like a sprinter about to hurtle off the line.
This is it. This is my time.
He launched forward and pushed with all the strength in his legs, surging forward with immense speed. He was at the breach in no time and burst out like a bolt of lightning.
The mace-wielding Prince was just ahead of his brother, and Taylor crashed into him before he even saw him coming. They both tumbled over and barged into the other Prince, sending it flying as they followed. He punched the creature to the head repeatedly to keep it stunned, holding onto its mace with his other hand. The impacts caused it to lose hold. They landed with the creature flat and Taylor sitting over it in a strong position ready to pound his foe. He picked up the mace with a reverse grip so that the ball was down like an earth rammer. The ball weight descended onto the creature’s head, and he lifted it again and smashed it down a second time. The blows were brutal, and the second one cracked his helmet open. Taylor
could see his blood-soaked face beneath.
He lifted the weapon for one final stroke when he heard the lash of the bladed whip approach. He wasn’t going to get caught by it again. He rolled off the Prince as the blade flashed over his head and recoiled back. He wasn’t going to wait for a second stroke, and rolled onto his feet, bringing the huge mace up and over his head. He didn’t hesitate as he carried the motion on. The ball swung down and crushed the Prince’s head, killing him instantly. Lightning bolts sparked out from the mace, and the other Prince was frozen solid in shock.
Taylor got up and yanked the mace from the dead creature’s head. It had burrowed in deep, and the sound of it being wrenched out as skull fragments came with it was disgusting. He knew it would be far worse for his victim’s compatriot and brother. He didn’t say a word and simply held up the bloody weapon, pointing at the remaining Prince as if calling him out. The Prince look scared now, in a way that none of them had ever shown before, but there was also bitter hatred in his eyes, and that could be dangerous.
Taylor began to circle cautiously. He moved slowly and made sure to have good footing with every step so as to not be caught off guard. The Prince did the same, and drew out a curved short sword with its other hand. Taylor grasped the mace with both hands and readied himself for what was to come. All the while he kept on eye on Bolormaa. He did not trust her. Every moment that went by, he wondered if she would seize a bad moment for him and deliver a finishing blow. He noticed the glimmer of light off one of the camera lenses as it panned back and forth, and knew then that their existence alone was keeping her from playing dirty. She hadn’t moved an inch since the fighting had begun, and he was thankful of that. He was under no illusions. Had she joined in any time during the battle he would now be dead, but pride kept her from doing so.
Still the Prince did not speak a word, and he didn’t mind that. He had no desire to strike up a conversation, or give anything away to the enemy. The Prince began to shake as if bubbling over and about to explode with fury. His head went up, and he let out an almighty scream before rushing at Taylor. He lashed the whip forward, and despite Taylor leaping aside, two of the blades lashed onto his weapon. The third slashed across his face and cut deeply into the plate covering it. The impact knocked his head back, and he lost his grip in his left hand. The Prince seized on that opportunity, wrenching the weapon free from his hands and casting it aside, far from his reach.
He didn’t stop there. The whip came forward once again to lash Taylor’s legs, but he leapt up and just about cleared the blades, and in no time at all the Prince was on him. He barged Taylor like a raging bull, and he was thrown back against the wall, not far from the breach he had been thrown through. Again, the whip blades came for his face, and he ducked under. They lashed the wall behind him, and he was showered with sparks. The Prince was becoming more and more frustrated and eager to finish the job. When Taylor avoided another strike, the creature closed in to fight him in hand-to-hand combat.
The short blade he carried came for Taylor on a thrust that would skewer a Gurv, but Taylor grabbed it, beating it aside with his forearm and smashing his elbow into the Princes’ head. He was rocked, but came right back at him. It dropped the whip, and with its open hand grabbed Taylor’s neck, lifting him off his feet and smashing him against the arena wall. He was held up, his feet dangling a foot off the ground. He was unable to get purchase on anything, and the Princes’ grasp was tightening down on his gorget, that was creaking and beginning to give way.
The enemy Prince lifted his sword and put it to Taylor’s head, as if to push through the visor of his helmet. He began to apply pressure, and the already weakened mask dented in a little. It seemed like it would give way in any moment. He grabbed onto the blade with both hands. The edge cut into his hands, and sparks flew from the energy that charged it. His palms and fingers were burning. He couldn’t smell it, but his brain sent the signals anyway, and he could almost taste the burning flesh.
But he would not give up his grasp. The Prince pushed with everything he had, but he could not shift the blade. They were at a stalemate. The Prince finally released his grasp on his throat and punched him repeatedly in the stomach. The blows were brutal, and at least two of his ribs cracked. Still he held on. As the fourth blow landed, he felt the Prince’s pressure on the sword reduce as he built up power for the strike. This was his moment. He lifted his feet, put them both against the wall, and kicked off with all his strength. His legs went up and over the Princes’ shoulders before he could reach, locking his weapon arm and head in one.
The sudden shift in weight as Taylor latched and swung over caused the creature to stagger back a few paces, but it stayed on its feet. He gripped on tight, as tight as he could. Despite repeated punches to his side, the Prince failed to get the right angle to deliver a blow that would deter him. This went on for almost thirty seconds when finally, the Prince’s legs gave out and dropped. His strength failed enough that Taylor ripped the sword from his grasp and cut against the arm holding it. He let go with his legs and bounced off the creature’s crumpled legs, hitting the ground with the weapon still in hand.
The Colonel was on his feet in no time, cutting back and forth at any target he could find. The slashes cut deep in the Prince against its legs and arms, but he did not stop. He slashed from side to side in huge arching motions from the shoulder until he got up close. He delivered a brutal cut to the Prince’s chest and face before it mustered all of its strength and kicked towards his weapon. The blade flew from his hands, but Taylor was not to be deterred. His enemy was weak now, and he wasn’t going to let up. He jumped onto the wounded beast and started beating on it with his empty hands. The pain of his wounds hurt more with every blow that landed, his only relief the damage it was doing.
The Prince was weak now; so weak he could not lift his arms to defend himself. His head was bouncing off the deck of the arena as each of Taylor’s thunderous blows smashed into his head, knocking it back and forth. He was finished, but somehow he had survived everything Taylor had to give. He climbed off the body of his soon-to-be victim and looked around for some weapon. He spotted the mace that had been tossed aside. He got up, but first he looked to Bolormaa as if to check she wasn’t going to interfere. With every step he took closer to the weapon, he expected her to rush forward, but still she held her ground, almost as if she were enjoying the show.
The mace was heavy and felt far heavier than it had before. He picked up the shaft and hobbled back to the Prince, who was coughing and spluttering as blood poured out from its mouth. The ball end was scraping along the ground, crackling and sparking. He didn’t take his eyes of Bolormaa for a second. He wanted to pretend he was dragging the weapon for effect. In reality, he was losing strength and power, and his injuries only exacerbated that.
He soon reached the enemy Prince who was still breathing but too exhausted to move. Taylor stopped for a moment and looked to Bolormaa, as if checking one last time if she would try to stop him, but she did not move. He took up the mace in both hands and lifted it off of the ground. He got it just over his head when the power dropped further in his suit, and he began to struggle. He tried to keep it in the air, but he was shaking under the pressure of the weight. The game was up. The mace head smashed down to the ground like a dead weight. He tried to shift it, but it wouldn’t budge. It felt as impossible as trying to lift a car with nothing more than his own muscles.
He tried one more time but could not lift it a millimetre off the floor. He heard steps. Bolormaa was approaching. She closed half the distance between them and stopped once more, as if now ready to face him; only now willing to do it because his suit had reached its limits.
“You were a fool to think you could win. In what world could you have ever beaten me? You are nothing more than a man with a few party tricks, but you cannot stand up to a god!”
She sounded so confident and sure of herself. And she made sure to look up to the cameras and play to them every word that she spo
ke.
“Your mediocre resistance against me has been entertaining, but far from impressive. But your time has now come, and it will be for the whole universe to see. Thank you for that.”
She smiled with a wicked grin as if revelling in every moment of it. Her dead and dying sons seemed to mean nothing to her.
“Come now, and meet your fate, Colonel Mitch Taylor!”
“I would, only…I am not Mitch Taylor…”
The faceplate of his helmet retracted back. His face was a bloody mess, but it was unmistakeable. It was not Taylor standing before her, but another man she had never seen before. She recoiled back in disgust, looking around as if trying to spot what trap had been set for her.
“My name is Captain Rogers, and let me introduce you to a friend of mine.”
A spotlight flashed overhead. It panned over to the balcony before the elevator where Taylor had been standing when Bolormaa first entered the arena, and once again Taylor stood there with his helmet open for her to see. There was panic on her face for just a moment, but that was enough to bring a smile to Taylor’s.
CHAPTER 11
“You never wanted a fair fight, because that is not who you are, but by God you are going to get one!” Taylor roared.
Bolormaa was speechless. She had seen the power of the new technology that they now wielded, and it worried her. She thought she had beaten Taylor down by throwing her kind at him, and yet now he was standing before her as fresh as could be.
“Is this not what you always wanted? To face me alone and prove your worth?”
He was playing to his audience and smiling all the time. He knew it was impossible for her to back down now. She couldn’t control the scenario. She couldn’t protest unfair treatment or equipment, at least not without seeming to be weak. Her claim to be a god came with a price, and she was paying it now. She looked around at the dozens of cameras, most of which were fixed on her, clearly trying to think of some way out of it. There was none. None that would save her dignity and reputation, but still she tried.
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