Chapter 9: Outsmarting bullets

Rank 4: The Heavy Weapons Guy

"Run! I'm coming for you!"

Travis didn't see Sylvia for the rest of that day. She didn't show up at the stadium even though Talbot and Weller did. Now he was really suspicious of her avoiding him. He sat at home for a while pondering what was going on. The new UAA was way too fishy for his liking. Just what kind of deal had they struck with Mann co.? Travis wanted to find out. And maybe he would once he reached the top. Well it wouldn't be long now anyway. Then the phone rang. Travis picked it up.

"What is it Syl?"

"Syl? Is that your pet name for her?" Travis was taken aback by the sudden Irish accent.

"Henry? What do you want?"

"Just thought I'd check up on you little brother. I heard you're back in the ranks."

"Not for much longer. Once I top this shit I'm out of it for good."

"Oh sure brother, like last time when you were out for good?"

"Fuck off." He snapped.

"No need for that now Travis. I just came to tell you about Saxton."

"Saxton? The guy who runs Mann co.?"

"The very same. He's been very interested in your rise through the ranks."

"Oh has he? And how do you know this?"

"I've lent my services to him for a while. I needed some cash."

"What for?" Henry didn't reply.

"Oh yeah, Syl" he said patronisingly "told me to tell you that your next fight has been set up. Get your sorry arse over to the warehouse at the east of town."

"Ok, spill. You know as well as I do Sylvia's been avoiding me. What the fuck's going on?"

"It's not for me to say brother. Just keep your wits about you. Oh, and never let someone get the jump on you from behind." And then the line went dead.

Travis snorted. Just like Henry. Whatever, he had work to do. He grabbed the Elitist and left the apartment, Jeane meowing at him as he left.

Before Travis went to the warehouse, he decided to drop in on Naomi to see if she had any new weapons for him. He parked outside her place and went inside. She found her chatting with that hardhat wearing man again. Did he ever leave?

"Oh. It's you." Naomi muttered as Travis strode in. He could never tell if she was bitter about him, if she hated him or if that was just her normal attitude. Not that it mattered to him anyway.

"Got anything new for me?" he asked.

"Well, she doesn't, but if you have an Elitist, I do." The hardhat man interjected. Naomi shot him a weird glance.

"Sure." Travis answered, handing over the Elitist. The hardhat man examined it in his hands like a real pro.

"I built that you know." He said, his southern accent stretching out the A.

"You did?"

"Yup. I work for Mann co. in weapon development. I built a lot of their gear." Travis nodded, looking at the guy quizzically. He took out a blue sheet of paper and started marking down lines on it. When he was done, he took the Elitist and the blueprint into another room. "I won't be long son." He said before he was gone. After about 20 minutes of hammering and metal hitting metal, he returned with the beam katana. It looked like a completely different model now. There were two elevated orange sections jutting up from where Travis presumed the blade would appear. The handle was red and black, and that weird orange logo was once again present. The hardhat man pressed a switch a long orange beam shot out of the top.

"I call it, 'The team killer'." The hardhat man said, handing it back to Travis. He held It for a while and tested it out, taking a few swings.

"This is good…"

"Durn right it is!" answered the hardhat man, an enthusiastic smile on his face. Travis nodded and then left, taking Schpeltiger with him. Naomi looked up to the hardhat man.

"You know you're going to have to fight him eventually."

"I know that…"

"Then why give him a stronger weapon?"

"Ya'll know the answer to that." He scratched his chin. "A man has to give his opponent a fair chance."

Travis zoomed up the road on his massive mechanical steed, parking outside of the warehouse. This place hadn't been used in years. There were still plenty of crates and other crap lying around. He ducked under the broken metal shutter and walked inside. The inside was falling apart, broken machinery lying everywhere, mountains of crates, rusted metal. But no assassin. Travis walked further inside, when he heard footsteps nearby. Then he saw him. What Travis could only describe as a giant of a man. He had massive broad shoulders and large arms with no sleeves. He wore a red shirt underneath a black vest, with a lot magazines around his chest, hanging from his left shoulder. He was bald with a slight beard and a massive chin. He was lugging what looked like a massive minigun around. He walked over to one of the crates and stood infront of Travis.

"I am Heavy Weapons guy…" he said in a thick Russian accent. He hoisted his chain gun up. "And this…is my weapon."

"What? Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"No… you should be scared, tiny baby man." The heavy grinned, looking at him. "Who sent this baby to fight me?" Travis' eye twitched.

"At least I have some working brain cells unlike you, Russian fucker." The Heavy sniffed.

"You think you can outsmart me?" he asked, aiming his mini gun. "I'd like to see you outsmart bullets." And he opened fire on Travis. He ran off to the left as the Heavy followed him, decorating the warehouse in bullet holes. Travis ran for his life, not daring to stop, for fear he should be raked with the spraying ammunition.

"Fight me coward!" the Heavy taunted, walking after Travis, never stopping the rain of bullets. Travis kept running, ducking and dodging between crates to get away. But no matter how far he ran, he could hear the rattling gun fire closing in on him, chasing him, hunting him down. He had to turn the tables somehow. He looked up to the stacks of crates surrounding him. An idea sparked in his head. He rounded a corner and leaped atop a stack of crates, then waited as the Heavy came down the aisle. "You are dead!" he shouted, a malicious grin on his face. Travis waited till he was in just the right place, and then pushed a crate down on top of him. But the Heavy noticed the tumbling crate and quickly dropped his mini gun, delivering a punch to the crate, smashing the whole damn thing. Travis' eyes widened in surprise.

"It is good day to be giant man!" taunted the heavy, retrieving his mini gun and aiming at Travis. Travis leaped off the crates as he heard the whirring start up. This was getting him nowhere. He rolled onto his feet as he landed, running as the Heavy began to bear down on him again. He needed a new tactic or this was going to end with a massive red smear that was once him staining the floor. But how? His opponent wasn't going to let up with that mini gun any time soon and he could only hide behind the disintegrating crates for so long. He darted to the left and felt a bullet barely miss his leg.

Travis had to start fighting back. And the first thing to do was take out his gun. He broke into a run and circled around a large rectangle of crates, coming up behind the Heavy, beam katana in hand. He made a leap at him, but the Heavy turned as he got too close and turned, quickly letting go of his mini gun. He got into a boxing stance and delivered a solid left straight to Travis' face.

"POW!" he shouted as his fist met Travis' head and he went flying back down the aisle of crates. Travis coughed once, sending a spatter of blood onto the floor, before he got back up, looking pissed off.

"You're going to fucking pay for that you fat bald bastard!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. The Heavy just laughed at him.

"Let us fight man versus tiny baby man!" he taunted, grabbing his mini gun again. But Travis was sick of this now. He raised his beam katana in defence and got ready for the storm of bullets. The Heavy opened fire and Travis began moving his beam katana in a circle, acting as a shield to block the bullets. It was killing the battery, but it was good enough to let Travis approach the Russian man.

"Oh dis is bad!" he yelled, trying to break through Travis; defence, but it was to no avail. Then he heard his mini gun click. He was out of ammo. The Russian frowned and quickly hurled his mini gun at Travis, managing to push him back for the moment. Then he took off down the aisle. Travis recovered from the mini gun being tossed at him and growled, watching the Russian turn tail. He had to catch him now. He ran off after him, taking a left, then a right, then another left, then straight on… and he was nowhere to be seen. He hated to admit it but the Russian had slipped out of his grasp. Travis cursed when he remembered he'd left the mini gun intact. If this guy could find extra ammo, they'd be back to playing cat and mouse. He had to destroy that mini gun while he had the chance. He ran back the way he came, straight on, then a right, then another right, then a left…wait…should he have turned right at that last section? He cursed again. Now he was lost in this wooden maze. He clambered atop one of the crates to see if he could get a better view…and then leapt back down when he spotted his opponent aiming a shotgun in his direction. The bullets hit the wall and he was safe for now. But he hadn't counted on the guy having a shotgun. But what he knew now was that this battle was still on.

He moved around the crates quietly now, sticking to the walls whenever he could, keeping his eyes open for the giant Russian he hunted. He peeked around a corner then dashed down the aisle. Maybe he could land a surprise attack if he was careful. He peered round the next corner…nothing. He dashed down the aisle, when all of a sudden, a fist appeared and smacked him in the face. The Russian man laughed as he stepped out of his hiding place. Travis reeled from the blow and reached his beam katana, but it wasn't there. It was lying on the floor a short ways away. He dived for it, but the Heavy kicked him in the ribs, sending him skidding along the floor. Travis was back on his feet and lunged at the Heavy who was trying to pick the weapon up. He socked him in the jaw and instantly regretted it. Just punching the guy's chin hurt like hell. Was this guy made of iron? But it gave Travis the distraction he needed to snatch the guys shotgun away from him. He pushed Travis away, realising seconds later what he'd done.

"Oh nooooo!" he shouted as Travis emptied a round into his left leg, before reclaiming his beam katana and activating it.

"This is for breaking my jaw!" he shouted, slicing upward, slicing the Russian diagonally, and then horizontally to cut his head off. Blood spilled onto the wood and floor, coating Travis. But he could care less right now. He deactivated his weapon and turned to leave. As he made his way over the crates, he spotted the Heavy's mini gun, lying discarded. Travis pondered for a moment…then picked it up. He planned to pawn it for some cash. Every little bit helped after all.

AN: Hey readers ^^ I thought i'd just take some time at the end of this chapter to send a little message out. For all of you who have read, skimmed, or even just glanced at this fic i'd like to say thanks a whole lot. Checking the traffic every week and finding all the hits and visitors is really envigorating and it helps motivate me to get new chapters out on a weekly basis. So again, thanks for reading. Also, if any of you feel there's any way i could improve my writing, post a review. I'm not gonna assume im perfect and im always up for improvement so if there's anything you'd like to say, just leave me a quick review. Thanks again ^^