51 The Calm

Obviously, I'm an Emily as far as Thomas the Tank Engine characters go, but as I lowered my shoulder and slammed into the oncoming truck shooting the engine block into the front seat despite designed protections against such, I felt like a Diesel. Like I didn't need to learn anything because I know everything I need to know, and I know that I love running over everything. I am the Pain Train.

The truck I hit went flying like we were in the Edgerunners anime, plus a whole lot of destructive damage, and I leaped four stories into the air, executed a sweet double jump flip to bring out The People's Elbow, then used my jet boots to make it ballistic as I plowed into another truck full of Animals.

I rose out of the smoking conflagration completely unharmed.

"Merry Christmas ya filthy Animals." I gave my best sneer as I walked out of the fire where a man so swole he was literally bursting out of his skin in several places dragged himself away from the wreckage.

I stomped his head into paste and continued on my way with a chuckled, "And a happy New Year."

On paper I was providing a distraction here in Pacifica while V, Jackie, and Ciri run a job for Netwatch, but in truth I'm just here for kicks. For whatever reason, there'd been a lull in the Metal Wars this winter. I didn't like that.

Militech had slowly turned the tables on my Scorpitrons. The balance of the scales wasn't great for them, but from where it started to where it ended before things cooled off they were winning the dollars spent ratio, and while not the blowout the original war was, they were winning. But that cold calculus changes when my Scorpitrons team up, and by pulling back not only did the Free States regain territory, each week we piled up more and more of my giant killing machines.

We'd see what comes next.

An almost lazy handful of trigger pulls shutdown the response from the next group of combatants to show up for the Friday Night Firefights, but the incoming missiles got me to activate my Sandevistan to evade. That action fucked up the timing of an incoming shot moving at hypersonic velocity. Even with time slowed by more than 94 percent, it was hard to get out of the way of the mylar coated slug that moved three times faster than my maximum speed. Even getting grazed by the attack knocked me over, but the return shot I put out with my pistol did far worse to the shooter standing behind the parapet of the building that would get torn down to build the Grand Imperial Mall sometime in the next year so long as my take over of a third of the city hasn't scared off investors prematurely.

I'd give the shooter his due, the Rhinemetal EMG-85 is a beast, if antique, and the exact kind of thing that makes wild combat zones a dangerous place for anyone to go. The freaks that thrive in these kinds of locals often pack a mean surprise for any visitors.

Another man emerged from a nearby third story window, another surprise, but this time not a mean one, just a strange sight. The man falling in slow motion had a pair of supersized cyber arms with industrial claws for hands. He was the kind of thing you'd see in a shitty horror movie or 40K, a twisted union of man and machine without any of the grace that is so easily achieved in this world.

I put my gun up to the place where his head was going to be when he lands then turned off the Sandevistan.

"Wait!" he shouted as he felt the muzzle pressed to his forehead, "I have something to tell you!"

I'd ponder what he wanted to say another time, as the hypersonic slug that tore through his head turned it to a fine pink mist before the big reveal. Unfortunately, he was the last sign of life within sensor range. I'd have to find my kicks elsewhere.

As I moved to continue my enthusiastic walk an alert came my way announcing the destruction of one of my Scorpitron units, immediately followed by another, then another. I sighed as I connected to the Welles Arms Data Fortress remotely, and checked to see what the black boxes installed on the Scorpitrons managed to send back to us. The first showed no recovered data, not something good at all considering how much armor is between the black boxes and danger and how fast they transmit data if the unit is destroyed.

The second managed to send us the majority of the day's data, and upon perusal my jaw dropped inside my helmet.

The last thing the unit managed to pick up with its long range sensors formed an image I never thought I'd ever see in this world.

The Spirit of Motherwill.

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It's a shorty chapter to set up the climax of the Metal Wars. See you all soon with the next one.

You can support me and my family at ko - fi . com / jmanm