CHAPTER 46: Monster

Bullets, like raindrops suspended in air. Antigua's perception of time stalled to a near halt. The air holding his sword in freefall, Antigua's hands moved to reach into a large pouch on his side. One gas mask and one quick-seal patch. The patch was slapped on, the adhesive rubbery goo sinking into the gash on his suit's chest. With the other hand, he donned a sleek gas mask in an instant. The mask extended over his hair and neck, clicking to complete the seal. Waving up his sword aided by a white glow, one by one, the bullets flattened into pancake-like disks. One, ten, twenty, one hundred. Time to send them back. Like a dance, Antigua's foot circled back. The strain of many hundreds of pounds of muscles pulled on the sword with a miraculously controlled swing, sending the bullets airborne, Antigua waiting for them to be aligned with his targets before curving his sword and reversing his double-hand grip into a backhand position supported by one of his forearms. A burst of AG exploded, pushing the bullets further and faster along their path, whisking the air thin and the poison diluted, and sliding Antigua himself backwards several meters. The disks flew straight, and pinpointed various vital areas of all of the targets on the ground, in the shadows, in the building, and on top. Only a white streak of light could be seen of the blade as it cleaved through the unaffected ACI units as the two forces collided. Claws were thrown, turrets were fired, nothing could stop the onslaught of the dancing behemoth and his rocket-propelled cleaver. Parries, dodges, and finishing executions flowed undisturbed and uninterrupted by anything. The hivemind AI soon found itself quite overwhelmed. There was no pattern, no concrete style or algorithm. One thousand years of experience had birthed this monster of a challenger. With only one eye, nonetheless. Begin evasive maneuvers. Spread out. Avoid unnecessary damage. Like a swooping eagle, Antigua did not let the machines escape. Every pounce crushed their otherwise invincible structure beyond repair. Objective changed, fall back. But the bots continued to fall. Error. Disconnected. The last AI in the area had been terminated. The Bayonet man ran as quickly as his feet could touch the ground. The ACI units could at least buy him some time. He had sent a distress signal to the Plagues. He needed to get to safety. That man… that… thing… It was nothing like him-

"How does it feel?..." A voice started from beside him. Hmmm… WHAT?

"To be chased by…" Fuck no. Oh god please fuck no.

"A MONSTER." The bayonet man smashed his hand on the ground to roll, pointing his bladed barrel right at Antigua's remaining eye. The shuttering jolt of Antigua's blade slicing straight through the left side of his neck compressed and deformed his body as the blade became posted on the concrete below. This knocked the blade to its side and launched the bayonet man at an angle before Antigua, still moving along at his previous, came to a sliding halt and batted him straight in the face with another iron fist. The body flipped several times before crashing limply to the ground, an instant knockout, left to die from blood loss. To fight in this war was one thing, but to dehumanize the other side was another. He got what he deserved. Taking off his gas mask and returning unused needles into their own pouch, he began walking to the original street one more time, he still had one more thing to do. He sat by the rubble, and examined it without the annoyance of being under fire. This rock here… might be leading to… Okay, let's try it… this way! With a controlled burst, the rocks started collapsing in. Immediately throwing his sword to the wayside, he caught them and launched them away. Unearthed, a half-broken couch had the colors of a shirt peeking out from underneath. The man had dove halfway under the couch with his upper body before the building's full collapse. But there was a problem. Weighing down on his legs was a horrendously large chunk of the fallen structure, and it wasn't a clean-cut crush, either. The man was still breathing, but gasping in pain with every breath. Here goes nothing. After throwing the couch and its top debris away, Antigua found footholds on two solid pieces of ground, squatted down, and inserted his fingers underneath the giant slab of concrete and steel. He tensed, pulled, and after a few adjustments, it lifted. Shit, this was a two-handed job. He didn't think this through. Drop it, and the man's legs would splatter. The arms of an unknown figure wrapped through the armpits of the suffering man, pulling him to safety. As Antigua dropped the slab, he noticed the hands and clothes didn't match that of his vampire friend. He quickly took an offensive stance, only to realize that Julia, the second-in-command for the Plagues, was already busy treating the man with first aid. He relaxed. Instincts were telling him she won't be so easy to kill. But more important things mattered right now.

"Our quarrel can wait, no civilian should be caught in crossfire." On that, they mutually agreed.