by Greg Curtis
It moved towards him, running like a steam train, and David ducked, using his legs to trip it in the process. It was all he could think of in the split seconds he had available, and it worked. The mechanical man went down, briefly. But it got up again just as fast, uninjured, and not breathing very heavily. Not actually breathing at all.
Knowing his life could end in the next few seconds, he studied it intently. Built like a man, it had fur like a bear, and claws of something that looked distinctly metallic. But it had no soul, no spirit, no intelligence. It was just a killing machine.
It came at him more cautiously the next time, looking at his position, studying him as he studied it. Looking for a weakness. Then it struck, arms moving like a scythe, and David barely got out of its way in time. The wind from the strike brushed his face, and he knew if it had hit, he would have been dead or badly injured. But it hadn’t. He struck back with his full strength, a side kick into its kidneys, or where they would be if it had any, and was rewarded with a crunch as something within it broke. It flew to the far side of the ring like a missile, surely injured, but it got up again, every bit as fast as it had been before.
From out of nowhere it leaped straight at him, a somersault of incredible height and speed as it attacked him from above while he damn near froze in shock. Nothing should be able to do that. But he blocked it with both arms, taking the impact like a piece of metal being pile driven into the ground. Somehow he survived and in the process he managed to guide it head first into the steel floor. It was another gut wrenching impact as the steel floor literally buckled, and he knew he must have hurt it. But the tin man got up again, and he also knew it wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.
David acted, knowing he had to take the fight to the enemy, and struck it in the chest with one of his best kicks as it was still rising. It was a perfectly executed blow and he watched it sail away to the far edge of the light. Again he’d felt it crumbling under his foot, and prayed it couldn’t possibly be able to take much more. He was right as the tin man staggered to its feet finally looking half dead. A few more selectively placed high kicks ensured that the little monster finally didn’t get up again. Smoke started issuing from its neck and a wave of relief ran through him. He knew he had won the first round.
The sudden noise of the assembled crowds, startled him. It shouldn’t have. This was a cock fight and he remembered from the last time that they always had a noisy crowd. They were both cheering and booing him, which told him that the gambling had been busy, and he wondered if many had bet on him. He wondered if he had any leverage with them. They might be his only ally.
“Your thing is dead. Now let her go.”
“You know the rules. Fight until you die. Then she’s ours. But at least you get to fight again.” He hated that man, that voice. But as if to emphasize the futility of his position, Cyrea screamed again. A heart wrenching, soul destroying shriek as something terrible was done to her. He roared with rage and fear himself, hoping only that she could hear and know he was coming. Somehow.
A noise, again from behind told him that another of the mechanical monstrosities was in the ring with him, and he threw himself to one side, knowing it would attack from behind, without warning. He was only just quick enough as it raced past him, straight into the barrier and then turned back.
The new one was better armed he noted with concern. It had a curved knife in one hand, and another blade attached to its opposite knee. And it was faster than the last. It came for him at horrific speed and he had milliseconds to move, but the adrenaline powered him and he made it while once again tripping the nightmare as it ran him down. Like the last one, it got up, stared at him, and came at him more slowly the second time, sizing him up for the kill. He knew he’d have only one chance.
It struck, the knife swinging at him in a vicious biting circle designed to disembowel him. But he was expecting the move. What else did you do with a knife? He caught the robot’s knife hand with both hands. Spinning rapidly away from it, he broke the creature’s arm, snapping it like a twig with his own adrenaline fuelled strength, and then planted a kick in the back of its head. The creature went down and he didn’t give it a chance to rise. Three more massive kicks in the rear broke its back and it started making strange noises as it collapsed in a heap. Then he jumped on its leg, snapping the blade free from the knee, and breaking the leg clean through in the process.
The crowd going wild again was his signal that the creature was either deceased or wrecked, and more money had swapped hands. But he knew he would be given no time to rest, no time to find Cyrea. He was right. Three or four deep breaths and he heard the familiar silence, and knew another nightmare was in the ring with him. He dived to the side as before, hoping they didn’t learn from each other, and was rewarded with his life.
Creature three was another armed robot, but this one with knives instead of hands, and just as before, it was stronger and faster than the previous one. He realized the pattern would continue. They would simply keep getting more and more deadly until one finally killed him exactly as the murderous voice had told him. Yet he could do nothing about it, except fight.
It charged him again, and he took advantage of its speed and momentum to propel it into the floor. Another screaming explosion of metal on metal followed, and the floor began to look much worse for the wear. But three was also tougher than the other two, and the impact wasn’t even a scratch to it.
Unlike the others though, it didn’t approach more cautiously the second time, it charged him even more quickly. But while that left him scampering to get out of its way, it gave him the opportunity to trip it into the floor again. Maybe the tin man might have a lot of strengths, but thinking didn’t seem to be one of them.
A plan began forming in the back of his mind as he saw the damage it inflicted on the metal floor. It was actually slicing it like a hot knife through butter. Those knives were sharp. But that was to his advantage and all of a sudden he felt invigorated. Just when things had looked hopeless, maybe there was a way out after all. Dangerous and difficult, but still a hope.
He let it charge him again and again, each time waiting until the last instant to dive, barely getting out of the way of those wicked looking knives, and then tripping it repeatedly. It was a successful tactic if a dangerous one, and he took a number of minor slices as it got too close. But it was worth it. All the time he was really only interested in the damage it did to the floor, and he knew there was hope even if it was slim. Three wasn’t a very big machine, but such was its speed and the sharpness of its knives that it was slowly tearing the floor apart. It had cut giant grooves into the thick metal. He was just glad it wasn’t cutting into him.
Eventually, as he’d known it must, it began to slow and its knives became blunt. Each time he tripped it the more lightly it impacted, and the less damage it did to the floor. Three was running out of steam, and he knew four would have to carry on its work. But he still used its slow death to do the maximum amount of damage to the floor, and to let himself recover as far as he could. The adrenaline burst was already starting to wear off, once he knew he was relatively safe, and as a result his aching limbs and devastated lungs were beginning to make themselves known. He knew four would be faster and more dangerous again. He had to be better too.
At the end three was almost crawling and he knew it was finished. He destroyed it very quickly, letting it amble past him like a drunk and then catching its throat from behind. Arms around its neck he squeezed as it struck hopelessly at him, and with a single massive heave ripped its head completely out of its body. The tangle of wires and fluids that stood out of its neck, apparently didn’t work as well as the original head, and the metal corpse reeled away into the barrier.
The crowd went wild. But even as the cheering started he heard four come in and he turned and dived. This time he had been given no chance to recover or argue. His tormentor had surely guessed he was simply baiting the robot while giving himself time to recover. But did he
also realise the damage it was doing to the floor was his potential escape route? There was no time to wonder.
Four was a nightmare. It was apparently a karate master and had four arms moving in wicked combination while he had only two arms to block it with. It was as big as him and probably much more powerful and with a lot more moves. Four was the first to really hurt him, as for every punch he blocked, another got through, and he quickly began to despair. It was like fighting two incredible athletes in one body, and all he could do was take it on in a battle of attrition. He hurt it and it hurt him twice as much in return. But somehow he found the strength to endure the beating.
Long years of training, though never against anything like this thing, told him to go inside, and he dived inside its arms and began hammering it with both elbows and knees with everything he had. For a while it was a tactic that seemed to be bringing rewards, even if it wouldn’t go down. He felt its torso cracking under his continuing assault. But then number four countered by catching him in a four armed bear hug. He broke free with difficulty as his wounds were already tiring him, and directed a kick at its pelvis as he left its grasp. It was a good kick and the creature flew, but again it got up easily. He realized that even with as many punches as he’d gotten through he’d barely annoyed it. It knew it too.
He needed a new plan. With four arms it knew it had the advantage in a straight out boxing match, and it wasn’t silly enough to charge him. Four was definitely a smarter machine than the others. Instead it stalked him, sizing him up as prey while he backed off, trying to think his way past it. Its only weakness he knew, assuming it wasn’t armoured, was its back. He had to get behind it. The way through he guessed had to be its legs.
No hesitation given he charged it, pretending to go high and straight, and then at the last ducked and kicked at its knees. Four was fast, impossibly fast, but even it couldn’t instantly move the leg it had its weight on, and he struck it cleanly, feeling the joint crack under his foot. An excellent blow, even when it managed to get one solid punch into his kidney. He was beyond pain by then and somehow followed it up with a lightning strike at its retreating backside, more bravado then actual effect, but very satisfying as he propelled it into the barrier.
He repeated the technique with its other leg, with much less success, as it had learned from his first attempt, but it still gave a good crack, while another of its fists turned his other kidney to jelly. David hoped they hadn’t ruptured, but knew it didn’t matter any more. He had to fight. He got up slowly but noted the thing was slower still, limping on both legs. He smiled, knowing he had crippled it.
From there it was fairly straight forward as he simply kept barrel rolling past it, just out of reach of its arms, and attacked it from behind. But it was still slow going. Its back was much stronger than he’d expected and his blows had only a minor effect. On the other hand each time he sent it to the floor it made a mighty splash down and the floor buckled alarmingly. Still its lingering death gave him time to recover again, and he used it well, directing his kicks carefully, staying out of its reach and waiting for it to get up.
At the end he was in total command, yet it was still only with the greatest of difficulty that he finally overcame the thing, directing a single kick through to the back of its head, and crunching its skull. The worst of it was that he knew five would be faster and deadlier again and he had already taken some nasty injuries. But he couldn’t give up, or Cyrea would start suffering again.
Broken and bleeding from at least a dozen massive blows he waited for five, while the crowds started cheering again. His kidneys had moved to a place somewhere beyond pain; they felt like lumps of fire in his sides and he knew they were damaged. Badly damaged. And the rest of his flesh wasn’t much better, especially when he kept seeing the spattered blood all over the floor and knew it was all his. Robots don’t bleed. But at least he was still breathing. And the crowds were still cheering. Once they stopped he knew it would be because the next match had started. He knew some were wagering on him from the cheers, but he also knew more than a few would be betting on the robot. They weren’t fools.
Five when it came made four look like a pussy. It had only two arms and no knives, but it stood seven feet tall, was built like a brick shit house, and still moved faster than the others. Much faster. It was the first one he hadn’t been able to evade on its first run, and he found himself propelled towards the barrier, with at least one broken rib from the instant it entered the arena. It moved even faster than he could see.
With it David knew his only hope was to use its size against it and try tripping it, which he did, and the explosions as it tore the floor apart were music to his ears. It had to weigh four hundred pounds yet it moved like a rocket ship, and was coordinated to boot. No matter how fast he moved it was faster, and every single time he connected with it, it got him back. Hard.
To make things worse, five also learned very quickly. It was smart. On his third attempted trip David found himself literally hurled at the far barrier, a throw of thirty feet, and even as he was coming down he could see it was coming for him. It had caught him up with him even as he flew.
There was little he could do. He punched it in the top of the head with all the strength he could muster, but it had little effect as he discovered its head was armoured, and he took three or four weighty blows in the process. Only the fact of his angle of descent and his rapid twisting stopped them being deadly. As it was he felt more ribs cracking ominously, and a stinging numbing pain told him his ear was history, probably torn off along with some of his face. It was unimportant.
He carried on in his fall head first down the robot’s back, the effect of gravity rather than anything he’d actually planned, but it was still a good position. It gave him a chance. Desperately he grabbed at its waist at the last instant. It was a big waist. Using his hands and what little strength he had left, he swung himself between its legs, punching where its balls would be if it were a man. He should have known better, it had none. Finally he grabbed its ankles, swung his legs up and looped them around its waist and used his momentum to pile drive it head first into the ground backwards, like some insane wrestler. Yet no matter how crazy the move was, it worked. He celebrated as he felt the robot fly backwards, and positively cheered when he felt it hit, its entire body bouncing on its armoured skull.
The floor cracked under its four hundred pounds of armoured weight, and the sound was like a detonation in the chamber. It was a phenomenal blow, and he knew it was one of his best. A man, any man would have been killed instantly, his skull crushed and neck shattered, but five just looked angry. Very angry. David felt the first twinges of despair just then, and forced them away. The thing might be indestructible but he had no choice. Either it would be destroyed or he would be.
It rose unbelievable quickly, and came at him again while he was still trying to regain some breath. It wasn’t to be. Knowing it was his only chance, he dropped and quickly slid between its feet and by some miracle succeeded, and tried the same move again. This time he drove it even harder, and watched the entire floor ripple as its head finally broke through the steel plate. That would teach it for having too wide a stance. Unfortunately it corrected its stance the next time and he was suddenly out of options. And five wasn’t even slowing down.
The next time it attacked he went for the eyes. A desperate direct two fingered jab at its left eye which thankfully connected. In a man it too would have been a killing blow, but instead he felt his fingers recoiling as the metal eye popped out. In return the side swipe of a punch threw him around the arena again like a leaf in a storm, while a second reflex punch turned his buttock into a mass of pain and he landed heavily. He just rolled as the thing charged him, unable to stand for a few seconds, and for once it was enough as it missed him with the lethal undercut. At last something finally seemed to have slowed the thing down, as it lost some of its depth perception. Enough to give him hope. Hope was all he had left.
As it came at him
again he finally had a plan. Not much of one. In fact it was really just a continuation of his old one but at least it gave him a little hope. Dodging quickly to its blind side, he looked for and found the spot he wanted, and then placed himself between it and the machine. Taunting it, seemed to make five angry, and it came at him in a rush. He couldn’t have asked for a more foolish mistake.
At the last possible instant he dropped, barely getting out of the way of its arms, and tripped it again. But this time he added his own weight to the creature’s fall, pile driving it again from behind into the already mangled floor. Its armoured head connected once more and there was another terrible crash as it literally split the steel floor apart. But there was a price to pay even as he celebrated. One of its flailing arms caught him on the chin and he felt his jaw break while his head became distinctly woolly. Then its foot, moving like a bullet, caught him in the hip again, and he felt bones grinding together painfully. Even when it was damaged and being flung directly away from him Five was fast enough to be deadly.