A Slice of Life and Death

Former Detective Arthas Jacques lamented that his only option was to save the lives of criminals normally considered the worst of the worst. Only by virtue of their common enemy having Sauron level ambitions to rule were the gangsters Arthas fought beside in any sense the lesser of two evils.

“Good to see you again, dad,” he said to Admiral Randal Jacques, who was stained with blood from head to toe. His Arab-French accent dripped sarcasm.

“You’re alive,” Randal said, without looking back, the admiral’s assault rifle was filling a deformed mutant of a man with bullets. That hail of metal barely slowed the Deus ex Sapiens warrior as it walked through the barrage like it was nothing more than a strong wind. The inhuman warriors who had been on average a little more than six foot tall during Deus ex Sapiens demonstrations had swollen to an average of eight feet in height. Their musculature mocked body builders as puny things. Bullets hit their thick hides, either caught in the flesh or drilling through and being spat out.

“Okay class, pop quiz,” Arthas said, voice thick with hysteria. “Who knows how to kill one of these demons?”

“You can’t kill them,” said Kurgen MacLeod. The irony of the most prolific contract killer in human history saying anyone couldn’t be killed had Arthas smirking and asking himself why he was helping these scumbags at all.

Arthas’ black droid played a buzzer from a quiz show. “Incorrect. The answer is beheading them. Done it myself.” It spoke with a Newcastle accent, the lights of its eyes flickering amethyst after the previous battle.

“How would one of us get close enough to one of those?” asked Kurgen, loading another magazine of bullets into his assault rifle and emptying it down the hallway in full automatic mode.

“No one said anything about you losers doing it,” said Purple. The black droid shook its head. “The ego of you guys.”

The foremost of the monsters was only two feet from the barricade of furniture when it leapt. Purple rushed to meet it, shoving a human aside.

Arthas kept his bullets focused on the thing’s face. It closed its eyes and turned its head to the side. The scarred black droid ducked beneath the stream of bullets hitting the Deus ex Sapiens mutant. A blade emerged from Purple’s elbow, slashing through the back of the beast’s neck. It turned to look, too late. The black blade emerged from the front. The head rolled across the floor. Disgusted noises burst from the lips of the gangsters who’d let men like Kurgen handle such dirty work.

The limp form of the beast collapsed. Purple stacked it on the barricade, ducking away from bullets flying both ways.

Arthas ducked, wincing as muscles inside his broken leg tightened against bone shards too close to the nerves.

“It worked,” Kurgen exclaimed. “Joshua,” he said to a blue droid by his side, painted with golden dragons. “Get the sword from my room. Tell Mischa everything is going to be fine.”

“Mischa?” Arthas asked.

“My daughter,” said the killer with a dimension of guilt he’d never shown in police interrogations. “She was supposed to be safe here.” He glanced back at the blue droid running through a doorway back down the hallway. “This is too close.”

“You brought your daughter here?” Arthas scolded the man.

“Away from my enemies, the cowards who killed her mother to get to me.” MacLeod didn’t look back as venomous anger filled his voice. He switched to burst fire, dividing his shots between three monsters moving towards them. The Deus ex Sapiens soldiers were grinning as the hail of fire from the defenders began to run dry.

“And you thought she would be safe amongst gangsters and killers?” Arthas asked, aiming for the nose of the next monster over the barricade. It looked for Purple in a doorway to the left, having leaped right over the waiting droid. Again, the Spectrum unit slashed with an elbow, taking the head from the creature.

“I’m the worst here. They left me alone. We have a code,” said Kurgen. His bullets painted the neck of the next post-human to jump the piled corpses of Lord Banks’ soldiers. Wounds stitched themselves shut as fast as bullets drilled through.

“Honour among thieves.” Jacques laughed bitterly, knowing better. He aimed for the same monster as MacLeod, blinding the beast. Purple managed to slice halfway through its neck before an arm thick as a tree trunk pulled it back.

Kurgen and Arthas finished the cut with the help of Randal, using their bullets to cut through the last tissues connecting the thing’s head to its body. It fell as the other began bear hugging Purple, causing the armour of the droid to screech in protest.

“Retirement for killers. A safe haven.”

“Your sword, Boss,” said Joshua the blue and gold droid as it appeared by Kurgen’s side again. The bot handed the contract killer the blue and gold scabbard of a Japanese sword.

“A katana, really? Anime fan?” Arthas asked.

“Who isn’t?” Kurgen asked, handing the sword back. “Go and cut off that monster’s head.” He pointed to the fiend crushing Purple. “How is Mischa?”

“Scared,” Joshua replied as it crawled below the exchange of bullets towards the duel between the titan and the tin man. It swung the sword at the beast’s head too fast to see, but the thing raised a hand to stop the blade.

Kurgen’s katana sliced through the hand as bullets cut the paint from Joshua’s intricately painted armour. The blue droid barely stood aside as Purple was thrown at it.

Another monster leapt over the barricade. Arthas noted there were only two left shooting from a hundred meters away. If they could kill four, the fight was over.

“When are your reinforcements coming?” Arthas asked Randal.

“They’ll be hours yet. It’s all on us.”

Joshua sliced the air where its foe had been. Purple was busy with the other thing. Arthas was out of ammunition. He threw the gun at the thing, missing.

“DADDY!” a young girl's voice screamed from the doorway Joshua had come from.

“Go back inside, Mischa,” Kurgen said. His face lost all colour as he saw her teary face.

“I’m scared,” cried the girl.

Joshua swung its sword towards the head of its opponent. The Deus ex Sapiens creature caught the droid’s sword arm and smashed through it with a chop that sent sparks flying.

“Joshua,” Mischa wailed, running from the doorway towards the droid. Arthas dived to throw her to the ground as she barrelled into gunfire. The blue droid turned to face the girl as its head was ripped from the body, trilling wires.

“Get her inside and lock the door,” Kurgen commanded Arthas. “We’ll keep them pinned down here.”

Wishing he could tell the killer where to shove his orders, he looked at the terrified girl beneath him and knew there was nothing else to do. He crawled along the floor, cradling a broken arm around her as his broken leg dragged. The agony traveling through his body should have sent him into shock but he focused on his task and the little girl who needed him.

The headless, one armed body of Joshua somehow managed to punch fingers through the thick skin of its attacker, plunging its arm through the monster’s innards.

Purple noted that Arthas was out of the line of fire as it took a swipe at the neck of its target. The beast ignored the droid, shoving it aside to leap among the defenders. Randal used one as a human sacrifice, shoving the retired drug dealer into the path of the murderous monster.

Shocked by Joshua’s dying move, the inhuman with a blue droid protruding from its belly leaned back. Off balance, it had its head back. Roaring in agony like a wounded beast left it open to Purple’s strike. The head fell backwards as the body slumped, intertwined with the blue and gold robot.

Randal watched his foe rip the drug dealer in half. Grey eyebrows reached up his forehead as the admiral fired into its eyes. The two Deus ex Sapiens test subjects who had been shooting from the end of the hall were running impossibly fast towards the humans.

“Gods save us,” Admiral Jacques gasped.

Purple grabbed the fallen katana from the ground, wielding it in one hand and swinging the elbow of the other. The droid raced to save the veteran of the Martian Navy who was sprayed with the innards of a man whose final agony was written across his face.

Randal’s ears noted the hollow click of his ammunition hitting zero. He patted the pouches on his chest, feeling nothing.

“FOR MARS!” Yelled the old man. A single stream of gunfire hit the beast heading right at him.

Kurgen MacLeod emptied the penultimate magazine in his reserve into the beast Purple was chasing down. He aimed for the eyes with bursts. The ammunition counter dribbled down to his doom.

Twenty-one bullets remaining. Three into the left eye.

Eighteen remaining. The right eye.

Fifteen. Left eye.

Twelve. Right.

Nine.

Six.

Purple swung the katana perfectly horizontally across the beast’s neck. The blade kissed the air where flesh had been as it ducked and aimed a backward kick.

Arthas’ droid sidestepped the kick, lodging its elbow blade halfway through the demon’s neck. Blind eyes healed as the Spectrum droid’s lenses took in the devastation Kurgen had dealt it. Crying bullets, it grinned as its neck healed around the black blade.

Drawing the katana back for a stab, Purple saw Randal dive towards the creature instead of away, swinging the butt of the spent rifle.

Randal slammed the gun into the privates of the monster as hard as he could, knowing he was likely about to die. He would at least be remembered by Lord Banks for putting up a good fight, unlike Arthas who had fled the battle to guard a doomed girl.

The minute twitch of the former mercenary as Randal hit it in the balls, was enough for purple. Blinded by Kurgen and distracted more than hurt by the admiral, it was still for a moment. The tip of the katana plunged into its neck. Purple ripped the blades outwards.

“Two to go,” purple said, mentally pumping its fist.

The explosion of a frag grenade knocked the droid flat, scratching most of the black paint from its back.

Defenders screamed as shards of hot metal sliced into their faces and any other exposed flesh. Kurgen had ducked in time to save his face at the expense of his right arm which was filled with shrapnel.

One monster leapt over Purple, towards Kurgen who was hoarding his last six rounds. The other stamped down on Purple crushing its body with an impression of the ripped boot it wore.

Kurgen spent his last six bullets then switched to the last magazine in a flash. Switching from burst to full automatic he backed away from the thing chasing him down. Deliberately not looking at his doorway, the serial killer felt a corpse with his heel and stepped over it. All he could do was buy Mischa time and hope beyond hope they hadn’t noticed her.

“Hello, Mischa. My name’s Arthas. I’m going to look after you.” He tried to smile but that was possibly as terrifying after the beating he’d taken.

“No way my dad would send a cop to look after me.” Mischa folded her arms. “I need to go and help him.”

“He’s looking after you right now. If you want to help, tell me if he has any more weapons. I need something to fight with if one of those things gets inside.” Arthas scanned the apartment. Anime posters, shelves of books. A huge hologram projector dominated the middle of the room.

“My dad always said not to talk to the police,” her wise brown eyes narrowed.

“This is the one day I think he’d make an exception. I’m an ex-cop anyway. I was fired.”

The girl with freckles and twin braids looked at the paintings on the wall as the dull boom of the frag grenade reverberated.

Without another word she walked towards a door with a security panel. Pressing her palm to the scanner, she then scowled at Arthas until he looked away. “Come on, pig.”

She led him into what was clearly Kurgen’s bedroom. The walls were an ode to bladed weapons. He reached for a machete with a jade decorated handle.

“That’s a replica. The only thing in here that is real is the trident, and the katana Joshua took.” Her head hung. “My dad isn’t going to die is he? I already lost my mom.”

“Your dad is a good fighter,” Arthas said in his most reassuring voice.

“You’re a shit liar, cop. Go help my dad.” She pointed to the door.

“What’s that?” Arthas asked, pointing to a locked box on a shelf of trophies for marksmanship. All of the trophies were under assumed names.

Kurgen backed away from grinning monsters. Both were following him at a casual pace. Everyone else was down.

“MacLeod,” Purple’s voice was a garbled mess. It threw the katana through the air between the monsters, over Kurgen’s head.

Someone crawling on the ground cried out for help, blindly reaching at the ankle of a monster. It ground the puny human beneath its foot with a single stamp. The wet crunch took the breath from the hitman’s lungs. He cut a line across the neck of the foremost beast. It was healing faster than the bullets were hitting it. His heel hit the custom made sword, the metal of the blade scraping across the floor. 

Kurgen emptied his final bullets into the monster’s eyes, dropped his rifle and ducked. Turning and grabbing the handle of the sword, he gripped it in both hands.

The creature’s eyes were open, bullets rolling over its chest. MacLeod swung at the neck of the thing as its arm shot out towards his chest. The blade severed the spinal column as he took a punch that broke every rib it touched. A mist of blood sprayed from Kurgen’s mouth as he shot backwards. The wall knocked the contract-killer out.

Randal Jacques played dead as the last Deus ex Sapien surveyed the carnage. Purple froze. It had been crawling after the beasts.

“You,” said the monster. It grinned, showing teeth covered in blood. Red covered it from fingertips to shoulders.

“Someone else?” Purple asked, trying to stand. The knee joint of its right leg wasn’t responding. All of the Spectrum droid’s fingers spasmed from fluctuation power. Only one eye still flickered amethyst.

Military boots stomped down the metal corridor towards Purple. The droid backed up, knowing there was no winning the fight against that last beast. Randal’s ruse would only buy him seconds when the superhuman had ripped Purple apart.

“You killed my friends,” growled the creature strolling towards the robot. Its voice was that of a bear if a bear was the size of a castle.

“Sorry. I didn’t realise. I’ll do better next time. Promise.” Backed up to the barricade, the droid was trapped. The creature reached out his arm around the neck of the droid.

Arthas saw his friend in the grip of the monster, his father laying still in a pool of blood. Gripping the trident in both hands, he aimed the central spike at the creature’s head. He thrust the weapon towards it as it turned. The point of the barbed trident pierced the beast’s temple, emerging through the skull at the other side. Healing around the trident only trapped the weapon inside the thing’s head. Roaring in agony, it thrashed, trying to rip the weapon out.

Pulling the flare gun Kurgen had locked away from the back of his belt, Arthas aimed it into the roaring maw of the monster and pulled the trigger.

The stench of burning flesh filled the space as the glowing face of the creature burnt around the flare in its throat.

“The sword,” Purple yelled, pointing to MacLeod’s body.

Arthas ran to the sword. He ducked the flare as the beast ripped the stick of strontium nitrate, potassium perchlorate and magnesium from its boiling flesh and tossed it at the former detective.

In a limping run, Arthas made it to the beast as it pulled the trident from its own skull and snapped the metal rod in half. Wavering on its feet as its brain was regrown, it never had a chance as Jacques swung.

Still holding Purple, the headless beast fell.

“Well done,” Randal said, dusting himself off as he stood.

“Thanks for your help,” Arthas said, layering his voice with every drop of sarcasm he could muster.

“Time to get Lord Banks,” said the admiral with all the dignity he could when his son had watched him playing dead.

“You mean kill him?”

“No. We need to know what he knows.” Randal clambered over the barricade. He pulled a combat knife out as if it would be of use if there was another monster waiting for them.

Lord Banks waited calmly in a presidential suite at the end of the hallway. He raised his manicured hands. “I surrender,” he said in a voice that dripped with old money.

“Stand up with your hands raised,” Randal pulled a pair of handcuffs from one of his many pockets and slapped them over the aristocrat’s wrists.

“I regret nothing.” Lord Banks looked Arthas in the eye. “This is only the beginning.”

Arthas felt rage boil up through him. Banks would wriggle his way out of any conviction with what he knew. If not, someone else would take his technology and do it all again.

Arthas swung the sword in a horizontal cut.

Lord Mark Ignatius Banks’ eyes opened wide. His mouth started to protest.

“No, prick, this is the end.”