There were many, many things that Luke regretted in his life.
Working at Super-mart.
Buying a moped instead of a car to “Save on fuel”.
But of all the poor, incredibly uniformed choices he’d made, the cashier felt that pissing off the giant death bot might’ve been a soild top five.
“I’m sorry!” Luke shouted, barrel rolling out of the way of a blast of energy. The benefits of Rogue seemed to keep reappearing every time Luke got himself in deep shit. Dodging was quite handy.
“YOU DARE TO MARE MY BODY, GIFTED BY THE GREAT MACHINE. INSOLENT SACK OF MEAT!” Borg roared in a very animated fashion as he took a leap on speed and closed the gap between himself and Luke, aiming a giant fist right at the cashier’s head.
The sight of a speeding block of steel coming down towards him at full force served as a welcome reminder that maybe he wasn’t as prepared for the Pit as he would’ve liked to be. Luke had signed up, banking on the idea that they would be more game-like events, which would allow him to leverage the tools he had on hand and his ability to network.
But you can’t network in a death match. Luke sighed, having already tried, as he barrel rolled to the side. An unfortunate side effect of Borg having a giant laser gun strapped to the top of his shoulder was that trying to keep him at a distance would end with Luke reduced to a smouldering pile of ashes.
That was a big no-no.
However, the problem with staying close to Borg was that he was a giant murder robot who moved almost as fast as Luke while being at least ten times his weight and strength. A very scary, very terrifying conundrum. Luckily, the cashier’s best attribute so far seemed to be a combination of quick thinking, creativity and…
“Random bullshit” painted itself on the ground as Luke kicked against it hard, activating Punchline and springing himself away from the metal fist within a hairs breathe of it painting him against the Pit floor.
There was a cheer from the crowd, but at this point, Luke only kept track of them to empower Punchline.
“It was an accident!” Luke protested to Borg, holding up a hand in surrender as he reached for a pistol.
“YOUR SHOTGUN DINTED MY PERFECT FORM!” Borg countered, again, getting very angry for a robot.
Luke was tempted to counter, saying he hadn’t, but the shotgun he threw that fired right in Borg's face had been a happy accident he elicited. A mix of Punchline working a lot better than he’d thought it would, and a last-second idea as he tried to buy a little extra time.
Time to think of a solid way to beat Borg.
Stupid post-fight interview. Not only had it stressed Luke, forcing him to worry about his public image, but it had also completely taken the time he could’ve used to rest and recover. If his last fight hadn’t ended so quickly, he likely already would’ve been squished by Borg.
Need to think of a way to beat him.
Logic told him that the joints and lens Borg possessed were probably his weakest points. That wouldn’t necessarily help him beat Borg, but probing would at least get him a step in the right direction. With that in mind, Luke aimed his pistol at Borg len’s while straffing back, using his other hand to cover his face from the dust kicked up by Borg smashing the tile floor.
Dust? That could be useful. Luke decided as his shots pinged off Borg’s neck, shoulder and head. He fired about half of his twenty-round mag before he managed to actually hit anywhere close to the lens, and it was only because Borg had once again charged straight at him, kicking up even more dust.
The smells of dust and gunpowder mixed under Luke’s nose as the vibration of Borg's limbs rumbling through the ground caused the cashier’s feet to tremble. There was a real sense of fragility that coursed through him as the mountain of metal rushed in. But that coupled with a new, better idea.
“CEASE YOUR RUNNING FLESH BAG,” Borg commanded as he got within a step of Luke, rearing down to smash him to dust. Only this time, his shoulder-mounted gun gained the ominous red glow, pre-firing the area behind Luke so he couldn’t retreat backwards.
Only Luke had no intention of retreating. Instead, he rushed forward under Borg’s assault, meeting him far quicker than the robot had anticipated, thanks to kicking off the tiled floor and employing Punchline. His main ability turned the ground beneath him malleable for a moment before it sprang him forward fast enough to be beneath Borg in a moment.
Far quicker than the robot would’ve liked and just slow enough for the cashier to aim up a get a good, close shot at the red lens, which Luke guessed was responsible for his vision. He pulled the trigger as he saw the shadow of Borg's other hand reach down to smash him. Luke’s focus split, half his body focused on transferring his momentum from the spring into a slide, while the other half focused on exactly what he wanted Punchline to do to the bullet, nailing Borg’s lens.
A whole lot of things happened at once.
Luke’s ass slammed into a slide with such force that he felt pain spread into his thigh. But that was okay, because that force counted as an “attack” in the eyes of Punchline, letting Luke add a slim layer of ice to the floor, which helped transfer his speed from sprint to slide right through Borg's legs. It shattered almost instantly due to the lack of humour that the ability required, causing the cashier to stumble face-first into the tiled floor just after he passed through Borg’s legs. His nose stung with numb pain and dripped blood, but Luke managed to right himself quickly enough to not get smashed by one of Borg's flailing limbs.
Normally, he wouldn’t be fast enough to dodge one of Borg’s attacks without Punchline, but that was where the second part of his plan came into play.
“WHAT IS THIS TRICKERY!” Borg demanded to know in fury as he haphazardly tried to scrap Luke’s handiwork off his lens.
What had left his gun as a bullet through the power of Punchline had turned into a magic creampie, splattering across Borg’s face as he slid through his legs. With his bulky hands and fingers, it would be next to impossible for the robot to scrape the thing off his lens without damaging it.
Which meant Luke had half blinded the Goliath.
The first domino of his victory.
Feeling confident, the cashier raised his gun toward Borg’s lens, keen to blind in wholly and secure the advantage.
Never thought I’d creampie a robot. First time for everything- what in the sweet Mary fuck! Luke thought as his heart pulsed with an ache that almost toppled him as he tried to activate Punchline.
That warm feeling that fueled his body ever since his first Exodus felt… dwindled. Almost empty in a way it never had been before. When he tried to transmute the feeling, it felt like the times his low fuel light had blinked on while he was riding his moped. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
Except he was the moped.
So I was right, it can be exhausted.
Clearly his abilities did not come from nowhere out of an infinite energy source. A disappointing reality to be hit with, but also expected to some degree. The only people who had infinite ability usage were Blanks… and maybe Finite..
“But still…” Luke said, feeling the emptiness in his heart made the whole world a little brighter. A little less villainous. “…my pizzaz.”
He couldn’t stop gazing at his hands, which felt like they were just that little bit less evil than before.
“DIE FLESHBAG!” Borg shouted, causing Luke’s eyes to wander from his hands to the ominous red charging in Borg’s shoulder cannon.
“You wouldn’t shoot a man who just lost his pizzazz, would you?” Luke asked, innocently raising his hands in surrender.
As it turned out, the heartless metal death machine would happily laser a pizzazzless man to death. The cashier was forced to dive out of the way, narrowly avoiding the barrage of lasers that burned the ends of his overcoat. The good news was that he hadn’t been hit. The bad news was…
“My fashion!” Luke shouted, swiftly taking off the overcoat which had caught on fire and trying to stamp it out, causing all the knives, magazines and other weapons he’d hidden in its many pockets to come tumbling out.
All his goodies falling to the ground like he’d just smashed a piñata broke Luke’s heart, but even more than that, the few bottles of forty-proof alcohol he had stuffed with gravel smashed in the process.
MY MOLOTOVS! There went one idea. In one foul swoop, he’d lost three core pieces of what made him V, the superest of villains, and he didn’t even have time to grieve. Because the lasers were getting closer as perhaps more of the magic creampie slipped off. Quickly, he tried to bundle up the best-looking knives and a few magazines, slipping his pistol into his belt.
He was about to scramble away and abandon his jacket when he noticed a shiny black ball sitting among the pile of goodies. It took him a moment to realise what exactly it was and where exactly it’d come from.
Puck. That was the little prodigy-tech device he’d stolen from Puck. The one that had killed all the lights and electronics in the house they’d lured him to. He’d stuffed it in his jacket back then, and somehow it must’ve ended up among his goodies.
Luke stared at the small EMP device.
Then at his coat.
Then at the robot.
A small, villainous smile started to crawl its way along his lips.
***********
Across the Pit
“I really miss Mr V’s plans,” Fred mumbled, batting away an arrow of energy for the bazillionth time.
The archer in question all the way on the other side of their enclosed battle space, bit his lip and started pulling back on his hand crossbow, bringing another arrow into existence for the bazillionth time. When Fredick Sharp, aka Shrapnel, also known as Awesomergamer124 on PC gaming platforms, saw his opponent loading up another arrow, he couldn’t help but groan.
The things might be highly ineffective against his Metal Madness, a cool name he’d given to his ability, but they still stung when they bounced off him.
I can’t believe I thought this would be easy. He groaned internally, beginning his march towards his opponent, which Fred had accepted he would never catch. The teenager Supe had been a bit nervous when he’d initially landed in the arena, for a lot of good reasons. He was by himself once again, in combat against someone who wasn’t from Team Basilisk, which meant he didn’t know what they were capable of.
Luckily, the dark and gloomy man with the hand crossbow across from him wasn’t able to actually hurt him with the arrows he used. Unluckily, the slippery prick was agile as hell. So much so that even Fred's physically enhanced body couldn’t keep up.
This is why I always hated tag. Because chasing down a slippery, fast and frankly annoying opponent was infuriating. So much so that Fred wished dearly he something large and heavy would drop from the heavy into their little inky black play pen so he could chuck it at the archer.
It wasn’t so much frustrating because Fred was outmatched. It was frustrating because he wasn’t, but instead stalemated. People hated stalemates. He’d been peeking up at the Pit broadcast in the sky every now and then, growing more annoyed every time he failed to see his fight pop up or even be covered by Vibe.
In the future, he would need to figure out a way to lock down faster opponents.
At least being locked in here with a non-threat gave me a chance to catch V knockout Aqua. That had been the only welcome surprise so far, only just barely beating out the fact that Jessica- wait no, Fangtooth had been beaten so easily. Up until V’s victory, he’d pictured the Supes' powerset as a sort of tool-bag of weak but handy tricks that was supplemented by the man’s keen sense and ridiculous plans.
But apparently the man had more bite than he let on. If Fred needed any more convincing to at least ask his mother if he could intern in the man’s villain organisation, that was it. He didn’t need more convincing. But if he did, boy, would that have been convincing.
Still, wish he had used it against the Swarm Hunter, though. Fighting that thing was creepy as hell-
A flashing gleam of an energy arrow caused Fred to tense his whole body with Metal Madness mere moments before it bounced harmlessly off his eye.
“Yeah screw this,” Fredick muttered, breaking tile stone under his metal feet as he sprinted towards. He rushed him the same way he had every time, fully transformed into metal, hoping that maybe the smaller size of the enclosing, Inky black walls would allow him to get a hold of the archer.
It didn’t.
The archer zipped away, slipping under his grab and pelting him with more arrows.
“I can do this all day, kid.” The archer advised. He pulled back his drawstring, summoning another energy arrow. “You may as well give up now. If you can’t beat me, you sure aren’t beating that robot monster,” Then he thumbed at the projection above. “Or that freaky friend of yours with the dumb mask.”
Fred had learned a good word in ninth-grade English class that describes exactly how he felt when this… this… scaredy cat called his potential leader and close friend V’s mask dumb. Incensed. He felt positively incensed.
“V’s mask isn’t dumb and he’d kick your ass,” Fred shouted, charging the man again.
Of course, the archer dodged, and Fred almost tripped from the sheer momentum of sprinting.
“Sure might, but I’m not fighting him. I’m fighting you.” The archer said with a snide smile. “You're far and far too dumb to beat me.”
Logcially, Fredick knew just like the archer did that he was just flat out wrong. Even if neither of them tired in a battle of endurance, eventually the battle area would get small enough for Fred to get his hands on the archer.
And when he did… oh, when he got his hands on the archer, he’d pop him like a balloon.
Oh, there the anger issues. Calm down, Freddy. He’s trying to rattle you. He’d had years of therapy to keep those angry thoughts under control, otherwise, he definitely wouldn’t have been able to think so rationally. Which was exactly what he needed to win. To think rationally. To think…
… What if I thought like V? What would V do in this situation? Against an opponent he couldn’t catch? Against an opponent who knew he was eventually going to lose the battle of endurance and was trying to get under his skin.
If he’s trying to rattle me, he must want to catch me when I’m not transformed after I charge him. It was simple when he really took a second to break it down. The archer probably assumed Fred was too dumb to realise he was being baited.
That gives me an idea.
“You really must love standing still, kid.” The archer mocked, pinging him with another arrow. “Can’t move and think at the same time, aye? Too much of a challenge for Shrapnel.”
“I’ll kill you!” Fred screamed in response, charging him fully transformed.
The archer slipped out of the way in the last second. Fred stepped through his time, letting his momentum carry him too far and “accidentally” tripping to his knees. In the fall, he made sure to cancel Metal Madness on all the areas of his body that weren’t clothed, allowing for an instant transformation if need be.
For a second, Fred questioned if the archer would even take the bait, but when he turned his head, the man was already a step in his direction. He must’ve taken it to make sure his shot was accurate, locked into his shooting stance.
A fool's mistake.
The archer released the arrow before Fred could move, but not before he could cover himself in Metal Madness, deeming the archer's plan ineffective. On the other hand, the archer couldn’t move before Fred pounced on him. He got a whole hand on the archer's skinny arm and savoured the snark expression on the archer’s face devolving into terror.
“Gotcha bitch!” Fred shouted with a grin, raising the man in the air, keen to tear the archer in two.
I wonder how Snapper’s doing?