1.37
Cameron continued to gain speed as he rocketed across the landscape, dodging shot after shot fired from the Archers bow. All around him, upturned dirt and displaced gas came together to create a slurry of chlorine covered debris as he zig-zagged in between impact craters and thunderous aftershocks, slowly carving a path towards his attacker as she continued her volley.
“So much for not missing twice!” he said, gritting his teeth as another plasma bolt passed inches in front of his face.
“Shut up and hold still, you little shit!” The feminine voice hissed through the speaker of her Archer unit, “Time to d-”
“Oh stop being so fucking dramatic,” Cameron said, scoffing as he brought his black blade waist level, making one last-minute adjustment of his path to slam the massive black mass of steel and tungsten at her hip, before power through, slicing through her suit so fast she didn’t have time to scream before she fell to the ground in pieces.
“No!” one of the other pilots shouted, the other archer raising his bow as a plasma bolt crackled to life in the center, aimed directly at Cameron’s center mass so close, he could never dodge in time. Luckily, he didn’t need to, as a spiked mace broke through the sickly green haze to smash into the Archer’s helm, knocking it flat to the ground.
“I thought I told you to be careful,” Logan’s voice came out through the speakers instead of the headset, sounding both calm and chastising as he piloted the Crusader into Cameron’s vision. He picked up his mace once again and looked down at the struggling Archer, fighting for his life beneath him.
“I was being careful,” Cameron shot back watching as Logan delivered the killing blow directly to the Archer’s cockpit, crushing the chassis beneath Crusader’s heavy spiked ball, “I knew you weren’t too far behind.”
“You knew? Or you hoped?”
“Why can’t it be both?” Cameron asked, shrugging “Besides… I did MOST of the work already. You just came in at the wrong time is all.”
“Oh yeah?” Logan asked pointing his mace to the south, “Well you forgot one.”
Cameron turned towards the direction Logan was pointing and even squinting couldn’t see what he was talking about.
“Let me help you with that sugar,” Thelma said, sending a radar pulse out that Cameron could see. Thin, white, ethereal lines denoting the radar traversed across the landscape for several dozen yards before cascading up and highlight the figure of a retreating Warden.
“Ah… Dammit,” Cameron cursed, sighing heavily and hefting his sword back up on his shoulder.
“Go fetch, Kid,” Logan said, chuckling derisively.
“Yeah yeah,” Cameron said, turning and flaring his back boosters to max, “I’ll be right back,”
It was a surprisingly long walk back to the tanker train across a now battle-scarred Celephis. Still the two of them managed with small talk, which mostly boiled down to Cameron filling the dead air with a series of questions… much to Logan’s annoyance.
“Question…” He said, looking down as his Headsman crushed a Squire’s chassis beneath its feet.
“Oh, by the stars Kid. What?” Logan responded with an aggravated huff.
“What’s got you so cranky?” Cameron shot back.
“Because I know this is about to be a dumb question,” Logan said, stopping and turning the Crusader to face him.
“That’s not true.”
“It is true.”
“No it’s not!”
“What’s the question then?”
“Why don’t we ever salvage any of the mechs we destroy?”
Cameron could see Logan’s frustration parroted on the Crusader itself as it’s hands went up into the air and it turned, beginning to walk again as Logan’s voice answered, “See? Knew it was a stupid question.”
“How is it a stupid question?!”
Logan stopped and looked at him, or rather Crusader looked at Headsman, for a long moment, before he pointed with his mace at the Squire’s wreckage.
“Want to know how much that Squire costs? Fully built and ready to go?”
Cameron blinked, “Uh s-sure? I don’t -”
“One thousand silver,” Logan said, interrupting him, “One thousand silver to start a pilot’s career. That’s all a squire will ever cost. One thousand silver,” He then pointed off in a direction where the remaining A.R.M.S. units had been dealt with.
“Those Wardens? Eight thousand. The Archers? Ten thousand five hundred. Each of these prices are fixed. What they are is what they will always be.”
“Okay?” Cameron said, not really following his comrades train of thought, causing a static laced sigh to come from his speaker.
“We’re getting paid Fifty thousand silver for this job. Why the hell would I spend all that money and time to haul this shit back to the ship, store it, fix it up, which costs more money in parts and labor mind you, and bring it back to Arsius only to make an additional ten k?”
“I mean…” Cameron said, feeling sheepish as he continued to question the reasoning, “Maybe there’s a custom part or something on a higher ranked unit that we could rip and use?”
“Yes, a custom made part for that unit. Not mine. Why the fuck do I want second hand shit? I know we’re strapped kid but we’re not that strapped. If I’m authorized for something, I’m going to have it made for my Crusader, to my specifications. Make sense?”
“Yeah… it does. I guess I never really thought about it like that before.” Cameron said, making his way to Logan’s side as the pair of them turned and making their way to the train once again.
“Yeah, well believe me, you’re not the first to think of it. Truth is, it’s just not a good return on investment. At least for me. Some people DO scavenge units, but they’ve specifically outfitted for it. I’d rather just do jobs.”
“Fair enough,” Cameron said.
“Any other stupid questions?” Logan asked.
“Where do babies come from?”
“… I’ll kill yo-”
A shockwave went off from behind them, sending both Cameron and Logan rocketing off their feet and tumbling into the dirt. They both clambered to their feet and turned to what could only be described as a behemoth of a mech standing before them. It was easily fifteen meters tall even crouched down as it was on it’s strong square legs. With stout, wide built square shoulder pauldrons that went all the way down to the units thick forearms and hands that were the size of the Headsman’s head unit, each posessing a massive cleaver in an iron grip. The mech leaned back, exposing a square, barrel chest, as it looked at them through a square, bandana covered helm. The final thing that was slowly dawning on them both, was the deep, blood red paint scheme the covered it head to toe.
“So…” A wild, high-pitched voice, cackling wickedly came from the behemoths speakers, “These are the flies in my food eh? The insects who would dare stop Riordan Red from taking that which belongs to me? Silly insects… don’t you know thievery is punishable by death? No matter… your blood will make for a fine fresh coat of paint.”
“Great…” Logan said, hefting his shield and mace back up, preparing for battle, “We’re gonna die and the last friendly words I’m gonna hear are, ‘Where do babies come from’.”
“How was I supposed to know?!” Cameron called back, ripping his sword free and toggling his boosters to fire back to life, “This isn’t my fault!”
“Of course it is!” Logan said, “Not shut up, and prepare for this ass whooping. Something tells me the next few minutes are about to be very painful.”
Logan and Cameron sprang into action, leaping away in opposite directions as a massive cleaver crashed into the ground where they had been standing in just a moment before.
“Oh-ho-ho,” The crazed high-pitched squeal of Riordan Red called out, “The insects don’t like my blades? They’d rather scurry like roaches than die like dogs? How… disobedient!”
Red dashed forward, moving faster than what Logan would have thought possible for a unit of his size, as he watched him bank hard to the left quickly gaining on him from behind. Logan tried to shake him, zig-zagging and taking as many evasive maneuvers as he could think of, but to no avail. Red simply ate up more distance between them, chopping wildly and cackling like a mad man.
“Fucking hell! Vic, who is this guy?!” Logan said, redlining his thrusters as he waited for the VI to answer his query.
“Hold please sir, checking central database now.”
“Oh sure thing Vic! Take your time!” Logan said sarcastically, banking hard to the right, raising up a shield just in time to block a cleaver strike aimed at his head. The blow felt like it barely scraped the paint on Crusader’s shield, and even still, Logan had to fight to keep his mech upright and continue run.
“Shit!” Logan growled, looking back in surprise as Red’s mech turned on a dime, just to continue chasing him down, “Vic, hurry the fuck up!”
“Query complete, Master Rake,” Vic said, sounding casual and nonplussed as Logan fled for his life, “Results for one Riordan Red; Registration number: 921623, A.R.M.S. unit; Cleaver type, heavy variant, Rank: Gamma - Logos.”
Logan felt his heart sink into his stomach, his eyes going wide as he confirmed that he was redlining his thrusters, before speaking again, “S-Say again Vic… did you say Gamma class?”
“Affirmative, Sir,” The VI replied nonchalantly, “Gamma - Logos to be correct.”
“Fuck!” He cried, flicking the comm channel back on as he hurredly relayed the information to Cameron, “Kid! This psycho’s a Gamma class, fall back, I repeat… Fall back! NOW!”
“I can’t do that Boss,” Cameron responed, sounding calm, cool, and collected to an alarming degree.
“And why the fuck not?! Give me a re-”
Logan stopped and looked at the landscape before him. The once sickly green smoke rolling across a bright red clay had grown dim in his field of view, almost as if something large and imposing was blocking out the light of the sun. He felt his heart squeeze itself in fear as he turned to see the massive frame of Red’s Cleaver unit looming over him, arms held high, cleaver blades hanging over Crusader, an executioner that had found his next victim.
“Die little roach!” Red bellowed, bringing the Cleavers down, cutting through the air as they thristed for Logan’s blood. It was he could do to grit his teeth and close his, inhaling his last breath full of stale recycled air, waiting for the final blow to come.
But it never did.
Instead, the shrill cry of metal meeting metal echoed loudly, piercing Logan’s ears and causing him to jump. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the thralls of death coming for him at last. Instead, all he saw was the edge of a large flat black blade, and the billowing fabric of a dark poncho dancing in the breeze highlighting a gunmetal frame.
“K-Kid?” He said softly, turning to see the Headsman hunched low, feet sinking up to it’s ankles into the malleable cla.y as Cameron strained to keep his sword raised blocking Red’s massive cleavers.
“I ain’t leaving Logan…” Cameron said, growling through gritted teeth, “Not without you… Now are you gonna fucking stand there? Or you gonna help me kill this crazy fuck?”
Logan felt like time had slowed to a near stop. His heart, once rapidly thumping with fear, had calmed itself to a steady rythym as pride began to flood his veins. His body, once aching and tired, felt like it was moving on it’s own as he brought Crusader’s shield up, pushing on the underside of Headsman’s blade to help carry the burden. If the kid was brave or crazy enough to take on a Gamma like Red, then Logan was going to stand with him.
“I’ll take the latter,” Logan said calmly, bringing his mace up, to crash down hard on Cleaver’s hands, spikes crumpling one of them outright and causing Red to back off momentarliy, laughing maniaclly as his right hand fell into the clay along with one of the cleavers.
“Well well well,” He said, fighting to speak through crazed laughter, “Not to scurry like a roach, not to die like a dog, but to stand and fight like a wolf… you continue to interest me…”
“Glad we can impress,” Cameron called, taking a wide stand, holding his sword up overhead in a defensive stance.
“We aim to please,” Logan chimed in, standing tall and banging on his shield rythymically.
“Oh… and please me you have,” Red growled, his tone turning low and dangerous, “So to reward your kindness… allow me to show you my Cleaver’s little talent.”
He held out his left hand, the one that still held tight to a cleaver, growling into the microphone to make sure both of them heard him clearly, “Bloody Haze…. Activate.”
Without another word, the hand began to spin, slowly at first, before rapidly picking up speed unitl the both the cleaver and hand were indistiguishable from one another, transforming instead into a blood-red blur. The unit turned then, it’s helm looking dirctely into the Headsman’s hooded bone plate helmet.
“That unit is intriguing. But I wonder… can it play catch?”
Before Cameron could respond, Riordan Red had already unleashed his cleaver, sending a spinning blade of death rocketing towards him at the speed of sound, chewing up the ground and carving a large scar across the landscape on it’s way to bury itself inside Cameron’s chest.
“I guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?”