Death to the Duplicates

Avon was sprung back into consciousness as his back slammed into the biting cold of a steel table. Before he could even breathe, the base of his skull cracked against the cold metal, the crunch reverberating through the small room. Pain coursed down his entire spine leaving him unable to move, let alone think. His throat felt torn to shreds, only the most pitiful of cries escaping his mouth. As he tried to draw breath and gather his shattered wits, the overpowering stench of gore and disinfectants flooded his senses. As his mind tried to quiet his now overloaded senses, his stomach rebelled at the concoction, bile bursting from his lips.

           “Ugh, how pitiful. Get the collar on him and juice it up,” a haughty voice commanded.

           A thick metal collar was clamped around his throat, secured deeply into his flesh with countless needles. Snaking its way from his neck and out of view was a long tube in which a viscous blue substance began entering his system. His heart began racing faster than he had ever experienced, each beat threatening to tear a hole through his chest. An uncontrollable force took hold as he began to shake and thrash about, but he was denied freedom as metal restraints held down his unclothed body. Denying his raging body the freedom it craved only drove him more feral, but the restraints only held tighter with every erratic movement. With nowhere else to go, that energy stirred in his body, every cell in his body on the brink of erupting.

           His fists curled into a white-knuckle clench, that is if his hands were still there of course. To his dismay, both arms had been amputated at the elbow. Screams of agony raced through his throat but were halted by the ever-constricting collar. Eyes wide and mouth open in silent screams, he begged with every fiber of his being to be released. That blue chemical still rushing through his veins denied his pleas however, enhancing every ounce of pain his body was being put through.

           “Now now, no need to fuss. We’re going to make sure you feel it all. I mean, the world’s best headhunter deserves no less,” that same, nasally voice said, grating against his ears. “Besides, your famed skills are of no use to you when you’re… disarmed shall we say?” The voice said with a snort.

           Static began to fill his head, leaving his cranium buzzing. It sent an extra dose of pain coursing through his skull, but he found even his head was tied down as he tried to make it stop. Every fiber of his being was filled with pain and every atom begged for freedom. No thought was coherent, but they rushed through his mind all the same.

           Then it all stopped. The pain quieted its cacophony and the beast of lightning coursing through his body finally slept. A static-like tapping echoed in his mind, then silence. The ripples of a voice entered his head, at first nothing but a whisper of the wind. It then grew, still faint and sporadic, but comprehensible. Only a few words were gleaned between the pauses of silence.

           “I think… got it. Avon… get you. Just…minute. Both… transferred… no time,” said a voice, resounding within his own head as if they were his own thoughts.

           That was voice was familiar, a comforting warmth that he couldn’t quite place. Each word danced in his head, lingering like a pleasant aftertaste. He begged for this trance to stay, for the pain to never return. Like all good things though, his temporary bliss had to end. And ended it did, punctuated by a piercing pain in his forehead.

           Another failed gasp for air brought him back into the present, the sniveling voice now manifested. The lean man stood hunched over him, a tool he could not make out now pressed firmly against his face. Its sharp tip had already broken skin, his blood streaming down into his eyes. His torturer and probable executioner only exposed the top of his thinning hair and his toothless grin below. That wicked face donned a large device covering his eyes, magnifying the man’s vision into a monocular. In his state of adrenaline-filled delirium, Avon sat below the maw of a cyclops.

           With an electronic whir, the metal talon dug into his forehead and began ripping deeper into his flesh. The cold metal sprung forth a well of crimson tide, rushing down his face and crawling into his burning eyes. Above the drill’s incessant whine, his butcher was humming an offbeat tune in the most joyful manner.

           “Some hero you are. Bloodthirsty bounty hunter turned savior of the coalition,” the man said as the drill came to a stop.

           Avon was teetering on the edge, his soul swaying like an untrained gymnast. Whatever chemicals were being pumped through him were keeping him on this side of life, however. It was a hook through his chest, toying with him each time he threatened to finally go over. He could feel a tension in the air as the man loomed over him again, feeling his hot breath grope his body.

           “Thank you for your donation, Ka’avon, it was a pleasure,” his butcher said with a snarl as Avon’s collar snapped down, severing his mangled head from his shoulders.

           It started with one heartbeat. The inky void rippled once again in response. A deep breath and another heartbeat. A senseless embrace now disturbed by the vibrations of renewed life. Now a steady beat took hold, unhindered breath freely given. The vibrations were music of the mind, an awaking for a slumbering soul.

           Blinding light woke Avon as he fell to the floor. He clutched at his throat as his shins connected with the cold floor beneath. The moment of his death was seared into his mind, his lungs gasping for air. Joyful was that breath, his lungs singing in wonder as his airways were once again at liberty. Before his eyes could adjust to his new surroundings, a warm body brought him into an embrace.

           “Avon, it's ok I’m here now,” said a shaky voice. He could feel tears running down his shoulder. Nothing but pain had been branded into his mind, but that voice broke through.

           “Molly,” barely a whisper escaped his mouth, but the tears that came after spoke louder.

           Molly, his one and only. An unlikely ally years ago, now his love he promised to never let go.

           She pulled her head up for a moment, “Leel, he’s awake! Bring him some clothes.”

           Metallic footsteps came running across the room only a moment later.

           “Well tighten my bolts, you’re as naked as the day you were born,” an electronic voice exclaimed.

           As his eyes finally began to adjust to the light and sure enough, he was exactly that. The electronic voice had come from a slim android, boasting a mint green exterior with white highlights. Its arms were outstretched with a pile of neatly folded clothing.

           “Thank you Leel, can you go get Klay please,” Molly said as she took the clothes from Leel and began to help Avon get dressed.

           Despite a sense of renewed strength, Avon accepted the help as he was completely disoriented. After donning an ensemble not dissimilar to his old attire, Molly helped him slowly to his feet. Keeping his balance took effort, but he was able to stand firm while bracing himself against her body.

           Molly reached a hand to his cheek, pulling herself to him. She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, one that spoke a thousand words. As they pulled apart, he couldn’t help but smile as he scanned that oh-so-familiar face.

           “Alright my love, what the hell is going on,” Avon said with a smile filled with confusion.

           “Wow, where to start,” she sighed. Molly took his hand and led him to a nearby window, which looked out upon a massive city. This was the city he had lived in, but it had changed, become more grandiose. “Months I had searched for you, every connection we had ever made wrung dry. You were a ghost though, vanished without a trace. I… I tried so hard to hold on,” she said, shoulders starting to shake. He wanted to hold her; let them both forget the suffering as they fell asleep in silence. He knew that she needed this though, the time to let the words pour out.

           She gained her composure and took a deep breath, “Long story short, it’s been seventy years since you died. Before you did, I was able to transfer your consciousness, mine as well.” Molly handed Avon a datapad with a picture of his face, an inscription beneath detailing the price that was placed on his head. “A shadow collective, the Yazzen were the ones who captured you, taking DNA from you. While we’ve been here, they created four clones of you, seemingly immortal and beyond psychotic. Everyone except us and the Yazzen knows the truth, but the public thinks it’s you. A slaughter of entire communities in one half of the world and political assassinations in the other, all under your name.”

           Avon was at a loss for words, his mouth hanging open slightly as he tried to soak all of it in, “Ok so you’re telling me I went from hated bounty hunter, to praised hero, now to an immortal bastard? I’ve got so many more questions.”

           “And we have so little time. They’re here,” a deep, slightly muffled voice barked.

           Avon swiveled to see Leel accompanied by a tall man in battle-worn armor, a menacing helmet obscuring his face. He had seen that style of armor before, belonging only to the legendary Manka. They were a proud, battle-hardy people with whom he’d worked with on occasion. On the chest piece, a patch had been clearly scraped off, where a family sigil would usually be displayed.

           “I thought you scrambled his consciousness signature!” A hard look cast from Molly’s face.

           “I did, Yaz must have some new tricks,” the warrior replied, his body language calm and calculating.

           “Klay, I’m guessing?” Avon said. “Someone please tell me what the hell is going on.”

           “My apologies, I’m Klay,” he said with a slight bow, “I’m the third of my line, tasked with protecting you and clearing your name. My people knew the truth, but the Yez ‘convinced’ them to stay out of it. My grandfather was sent into exile after standing against our people. He never forgot the many times you had helped my people, neither have I. Now let us get moving before every bounty hunter and juiced-up soldier fills us with lead.” He punctuated his sentence with a quick flick of his wrist, a projectile shattering the giant window next to Avon.

           “We can finish introductions later,” Molly snapped before thrusting a pistol into Avon’s hands. She then attached a large, circular device to his chest before doing the same for herself.

           Avon inspected the sleek pistol in his hand, nothing like his babies Pain and Pleasure. Those sidearms had accompanied him across the world, but this one would have to do. After he holstered the gun, Sarah got his attention.

           “We’re going to have to jump, tuck into a ball. Please just trust me,” Molly explained.

           “The hell we’re not!” Avon retorted.

           While Avon was distracted by the absurdity of the request, Klay approached them both, giving them a hard push through the cleared window.

           “Make sure not to hit your head,” Klay yelled, following them down with thrusters attached to his boots.

           A surprised scream ripped from Avon’s throat as he tumbled through the air. Leel came flying past them, only a streak of mint green folded into a box. It seemed like an eternity as he and Molly fell past the skyscrapers and giant billboards. One of the largest electronic displays projected his face, instructing him to contact local authorities if they spotted him.

           Molly was curled into a ball, her eyes closed as they approached a large plaza below. He followed suit just in time as they struck solid ground. Vision dizzy and surprisingly alive, Avon laid on his back as his heart raced. Their impact had created craters, the walls roughly half of their standing heights. Vibrations buzzed from head to toe, and the device on his chest fell to the ground as two pieces.

           Standing over him was his love with an outstretched hand over him. He took her hand and pulled himself onto achy legs.

           “We are never doing that again,” Avon huffed, breathless from the exhilaration more than anything.

           “Agreed,” she too regaining her breath.

           Avon scanned the area, the plaza near empty as pedestrians ran in terror, though some stayed to watch from relative safety. The city he knew so well had grown immensely, towers looming overhead and flying speeders driving through air traffic. One of those speeders was barreling towards his position, its nose pointed directly at him. Holding onto Molly’s shoulder they scrambled from his crater onto flatter ground.

           Pistol now unholstered, Avon positioned himself for the potential threat. He was waiting for plasma bolts to fly his way, but they never came. Rather the speeder slowed its pace, landing thirty paces from them. The hatch popped open, and its helmeted pilot vaulted onto the ground. The stranger’s helmet was more akin to that of a cutthroat hiding their identity, rather than the fierce look of the Manka, wherever he was. Each step was filled with arrogance and swagger, large boots announcing his approach every movement.

           The stranger raised a hand to the side of his helmet, the visor moving out of vision, revealing his face. To Avon’s surprise, it was his own. Not a mirror image though, as his duplicate’s right eye was a milky gray, settled above gruesome burn marks that marred his cheek. A wicked grin grew on the working side of his face, the good eye conveying his bloodlust.

           “Damn what an ugly mug that is,” Avon taunted, rubbing his own right cheek.

           “God, ima enjoy this,” the duplicate growled, his voice ragged from booze and inhaled fumes.

           Leel tossed a rifle in the air which Molly deftly grabbed and turned to point at the Dupe. Before she could raise the barrel of her gun though, a bola whirled through the air and wrapped itself tightly around Molly. Its twin followed through the air, wrapping up Leel. With the press of a button, an electric current zapped both of Avon’s companions, putting them down for the count.

           “Now it's you and me, slag,” the gruff voice rasped.

           The mix of anger and muscle memory took over Avon’s movements as he began letting bullets fly. The Dupe stalked towards him, blocking each bullet with a raised arm sporting a translucent, shimmering shield. His assailant pulled his firearm from his side, letting a spatter of super-heated plasma propel from the barrel. Caught by surprise, Avon was caught in the shoulder, the smell of burnt flesh wafting into his nostrils. The pain brought him to one knee as he tried to remain focused.

           The Dupe threw his sidearm to the ground and unsheathed a large knife from his wrist. A sinister laugh boomed from that scarred face as he twirled his wicked blade. With unnatural strength, Avon’s doppelganger wrenched his hand around Avon’s throat, lifting him into the air. Panic spread over Avon as memories of his previous death flooded his mind and his feet dangled helplessly.

           “I’m everything you could only hope to be,” the Dupe spit into Avon’s face. The blade was lifted underneath the soft spot of Avon’s chin, blood trickling down the metal spine as it made contact.

           Two distant cracks of gunfire thundered from above, one bullet connecting with the Dupe’s helmet, the other with his knee. Avon fell to the ground, his ears ringing from the sound of the ricochet against his assailant’s armor. The bloodied knife clattered to the ground as the Dupe stumbled to the ground. His burned face turned beet red with anger as he ripped his shattered helmet from his head. He screamed as he tried to lurch for Avon but put too much weight on his shot leg.

           Avon noticed his moment, snatching the knife and lunging for the kill. The Dupe extended an arm to block the attack, but it was too late. With all of his might, Avon plunged the blade into the temple of the Dupe. He saw a perverted version of his face, the life draining from the man’s one good eye. His veins pulsed with each heartbeat and his breath ran ragged as he let go of his grip on the weapon, the corpse falling to the ground.

           Klay flew down from his perch and began freeing Molly and Leel from their snares. Avon scooped up the plasma blaster from the ground, inspecting the piece of art. He decided to keep it for himself, his other self would no longer need it anyways.

           “It’s him, the Reaper! Please stop him, someone!” A voice screamed from out of view.

           As if summoned from thin air, two police drones sped around the corner, their floating chassis blaring police warnings and a grating siren. Just at the edge of his view, Avon saw military speeders and special forces carriers barreling towards him.

           His companions joined his side, brandishing firearms as well. With a roll of his shoulders and one last gear check, Avon took a deep breath.

           “I swear if I lose my arms again…”