Smackdown
Starfire had waited for her friends to vacate before fully turning her attention onto her opponent. Based on this description, this had to be Mammoth, because he did possess a large amount of hair and was large in size. That size made him the largest of his team, so discriminating him out was a simple task.
"I request that you surrender before I visit grievous bodily harm onto you," she offered.
"You think all those words are going to scare me?" Mammoth retorted, sneering in a way that was similar to the Gordanians. "Are the men so weak they leave you to fight me? At least get that one chick with the armor. She put up a decent fight."
The Tamaranian did not allow the insults to her friends to affect her. Such words were only distractions, meant to anger and confuse her thoughts. She had received much better training to resist such a tactic. "Then I shall be her substitute. If words will not reach you, then my strength will have to."
She recognized that pose; it was the one most took right before the charge. "I'm gonna leave you a smear on my boot." Then came the charge.
Starfire did not move, or try to evade. She braced her feet on the floor, held up her arms, and waited. The collision happened, Mammoth rammed into her, and the charge stopped without her moving the smallest of measurement increments.
Mammoth grunted and strained against her, trying to push, but accomplishing nothing. The hairy face began to grimace, expressing his exertion and frustration. It was a look she recognized, confirming that some behaviors were universal amongst the various races in the galaxy.
Her opponent jerked an arm away from her, then landed a blow into her torso. The force of the attack was more than enough to throw her back. It was unfortunate that despite all the experimentation the Gordanians' Psion scientists put her through, enhancing her durability and granting her invulnerability was not an ability that she had been able to obtain. She could still be harmed.
The one called Mammoth was not about to let up with his assault, already charging at her while expressing what she concluded was a war cry. His hands came together, the fingers interlocking with one another, and when he was close enough, he raised the interlocked hands above his head and threw them down. Not wanting to learn if such an attack would be severely damaging to her, Starfire evaded, rolling to her right and ending in a crouch.
The evaded blow struck the floor, warping it slightly, and giving away the reaches of his strength. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then she leaned back as far as she could, her hands coming up to catch the boot-wearing foot that kicked out at her. Her own strength protected her more than a lack of invulnerability would do for her, and she felt her arms trembling under the force of the kick.
This was becoming repetitious. She hoped those were the correct words to use for this situation; the nuances of slang still fled from her.
Mammoth swung his leg away, but took the Tamaranian with it. Belatedly, she released her hold and allowed her flight to stop her momentum. Her opponent was charging her once more, his arms outstretched. Various scenarios appeared before her in mental images, and she was able to select one course of action in time.
She lunged her own arms out, and successfully captured both of Mammoth's, engaging in a grapple. Now she could feel her own strength being tested. Her legs found their footing, resisting with all their might to not be pushed back. Her hairy enemy grinned in what could only be described as bloodlust, exerting more of his strength as he sought to claim dominance.
"Crush...you…" he growled.
Starfire hardened her facial features. "You are not...the first opponent...I have faced...with enhanced strength. I know...how to deal with your kind."
"Really?" Mammoth grunted, and she could identify disbelief. "Then you haven't...met me!" Now he was starting to push her back, exposing even deeper depths of his abilities. "No one is stronger than Mammoth!"
"And I do not have to be," she...the human word was quipped, was it not? Hopefully that was correct.
Correct wording or not, she put her own plan into play. It was a simple plan. All she had to do was summon her life energy into her hands.
Green light flared out from between their clasped hands, and a loud clap of detonation rang throughout the room.
Immediately, she smelled burnt flesh, followed very shortly by a scream. Mammoth tore away from her, the skin on his hands wrinkling from the heat of her life energy, sizzling she believed with certainty was the correct vocabulary. Burnt fingers were curled, yet dared not completely close lest they aggravate the severely damaged palms. The nerve endings must be incredibly sensitive.
"What did you do?!" the large male hollered, eyes on his hands.
"As I have told you, you are not the first opponent I have faced with enhanced strength. I have learned many ways to incapacitate such a foe. I have found that removing their ability to use their strength is the most effective strategy, for if that strength cannot be used, it is of no value."
The hairy head whipped up, and eyes that were becoming bloodshot glared at her. "What did you say?"
Perhaps simpler vocabulary was necessary. "I have made your strength useless."
"Say that again! I dare you!" Mammoth roared.
Starfire shook her head. This was another reaction she had seen before: denial. "I will grant you, you are a skilled fighter. You are not completely reliant on your genetic augmentation. But I have noticed the majority of your attacks are arm based. However, if you are so confident, then attack me."
Burnt hands tried to clench, but the pain and agony was too great. She could see it in his eyes, yet there was also a refusal to surrender. Even if it aggravated the injury, Mammoth was not going to stop until he had beaten her. There was only one course of action left to her then.
She used flight to grant her speed, as that ability had been bestowed upon her. Her arms were pulled back, and as she neared her opponent, she lashed out with incredible force. Too late did Mammoth notice her, but by then her fist was striking his cheek. Skin rippled like waves under the force of her blow, and a head that attempted to resist the force failed in its endeavors, slowly turning until it was perfectly snapped to a side. Her other fist rocketed forth with unrestrained might, and landed in the stomach region, forcing the larger male to bend over.
Small eyes were wide in shock and pain. Arms awkwardly tried to wrap around the region of body inflicted with trauma, the injured hands proving themselves as obstacles. Balance was wavering as Mammoth fought to remain standing, but that would be a losing conflict.
Her friends were strong, but there was a difference between them and herself. That difference was that she knew what she was doing.
"I did warn you," Starfire chastised. Holding an arm back, she gave another blow, this one curling under and hitting underneath Mammoth's chin. Though he was larger in height, this attack lifted him off his feet while his head was craned upwards. Completely open, the Tamaranian struck one more time, throwing the defeated male across the large room to crash into the large machine at its center, the one that possessed many of these unique canisters, the ones claimed to contain energy from the enigmatic Speed Force.
The metal crumpled beneath Mammoth's bulk, sparks flooded out and around his body, then everything came to a stop. Her opponent rested where he now laid, held only by the section of the machine that he had crashed into.
His bloodlust would have to wait another day to be sated.
Raven regarded the only other enemy that had stayed behind, not wanting to leave Starfire behind to deal with two opponents. The one she deduced as Mammoth was taking the initiative to fight with the Tamaranian, which then left the cloak and hooded girl to face the one she believed to be called Shimmer.
Perhaps Beast Boy's description of "biker chick" was a better name for her. The punk-styled hair and leather outfit was not helping her case.
"Decided to stick around?" Shimmer sniffed, her eyes half-lidded and expressing that she was not impressed with what she saw.
"Someone needs to make sure your poor fashion choices doesn't get anyone hurt," Raven quipped back.
Shimmer scoffed, her hands on her hips. "This coming from the laziest-looking goth in the world?"
"Am I being lectured from the one who rides in, what was it called," she deliberately paused, letting her eyes look up towards the ceiling, before finishing, "ah yes, the bitch seat."
That spike of anger was not her imagination. The response to quash it meant that someone was trying to stay in control. She would give Shimmer credit, the girl only narrowed her eyes and gave no other response that wasn't verbal. "What did you call me?"
"Only that a fat, hairy, biker man with a leather fetish would be the only one to give you a second look," the hooded girl continued without restraint. "You think you're intimidating? You have not seen Beast Boy's room. That is the stuff of nightmares."
Shimmer simmered in anger. "I am going to enjoy this more than I should."
Raven was expecting a charge, or a lunge, or even a sprint in her direction, but Shimmer darted to her left. The girl in the leather outfit grabbed one of the large Speed Force batteries, a container that was larger than the girl herself, then picked it up and over her head.
Had she not been keeping an eye out for abnormalities, the empath would have missed the subtle alternation that seemed to infuse itself with the battery. Nothing changed with Shimmer, even as she threw the massive object, but it was something Raven was capable of stopping, wrapping a black aura around it while it was in mid-flight. There was no need for a chant, merely extending an arm out to project her will.
Immediately, she knew this thing was heavy, and whatever Shimmer had done with it had faded. What was this girl's ability again? The little she had heard was all over the place, with no real consensus. Very well, the only way to figure it out was to force the punk-themed female into using it more.
Bringing her arm down, she also brought the battery down. Shimmer dodged it, the large energy storage unit slamming down where the leather wearing girl had once stood. Perfectly predictable, and what Raven was intending. Seeing her attack turned against her, it should prompt Shimmer to try a different tactic and allow the empath another opportunity to observe it.
She wasn't disappointed, though the act of ripping off a belt buckle was...unexpected. Adjusting her expectations, she predicted the buckle being used as a throwing projectile, much like the ones Red Robin favored. Paying even more attention now, her mind's eye could practically see what appeared to be a physical change to the small object. A small, extremely localized energy field, naturally invisible to the naked eye, enveloped then entered the buckle.
Before Raven could observe more, Shimmer fulfilled the empath's prediction and threw the buckle. Due to the metal, and the fact it was dull-edged, wind resistance should have been slowing it down, but it sliced through the air quickly. Distracted by trying to figure out the trick behind it, Raven barely turned her head in time, but not fast enough to prevent the buckle from tearing into her food.
There was no pull on the fabric. It was like a sharp blade had cut right through the cloth. It was a telling clue, but she needed more.
Gripping two more batteries and tearing them out of the massive machine that was charging them up, Raven directed her blunt instruments at her opponent, deliberately holding back on the speed, but amplifying force. There were large booms, Shimmer running for her life unaware that it was not in any danger. While the first battery merely slammed down, the second one caused a portion of the metal floor to buckle, enough that a small portion broke and jutted out underneath the makeshift weapon.
To Raven's satisfaction, Shimmer went right for it. Immediately, the empath could see that energy field that was so easy to miss imbue itself into the jutting fragment of metal. The punk-themed female tore a large fragment out, just like paper, then proceeded to rip the fragment into smaller pieces. She was running as she did this, as if to continue evasive maneuvers.
She just watched, waited, and was not disappointed as a flurry of sharp metal was thrown at her. Throwing out a hand, the empath stopped all of them in midair, and with enough time to observe the traces of the energy field fading rapidly.
Now she understood.
"What is heavy, you can make light. What's dull is now sharp. You're changing the very basics of everything you touch, changing them at their fundamental levels. You have to touch it first, before you can make the change."
There was an instinctive jerk back, but Shimmer recovered and leaned forward, trying to make herself appear more imposing. "Is that what you think?" she challenged. Arms were held up at the ready while legs spread themselves out.
"It's know," Raven replied. Glancing from the corner of her eye, she noted how Starfire was currently grappling with the other one, Mammoth. The two were testing their strength against one another, so there was no threat from that quarter. "I'm not the others. I don't always need to smash first. I have other ways of fighting that you're not prepared for."
"Big talk," Shimmer scoffed. "If you could've, you would've already."
"And if you were capable, you already would have beaten me," the empath fired back.
"I haven't even—" the leather-wearing female began to say, only to get cut off by a loud clap, followed by screams of agony.
Mammoth was pulling away from Starfire, holding his hands close, yet out from himself. Raven wrinkled her nose as she picked up the scent of burning flesh. The Tamaranian was not being nice today.
"Mammoth!" Shimmer screamed, and a spike of anger was enmeshed with worry and anxiety. It was a distraction for the redhead, and Raven took brutal advantage of it. Extending her arm out, she enveloped Shimmer's feet in a black aura, capturing them and preventing the girl from try to reach her teammate's side.
For an instinct, that energy field that was so hard to see flared around her, and had absolutely no effect over the magical construct restraining her. It was the proverbial nail in the coffin.
"You only affect physical objects," she declared, "but it doesn't work on anything not physical. And there's a range, isn't there? Otherwise, you would have used my own cape to crush me. It's over for you."
Shimmer whipped about, trying to free herself, and the snarling glare would have poisoned her with its venom if it could have. It was like watching a nobody trying to be tough and failing.
"If you want to prove me wrong, then counter this," Raven issued forth a challenge of her own, even as she was building up to it. "Azarath." The empath's body flared out dark energies around her. "Metrion." The energies took on a form of its own, birdlike with a wingspan that stretched out on either side.
In that moment, fear finally colored Shimmer's eyes. However, it was far too late.
"Zinthos."
The wings flapped closed and swallowed Shimmer whole.
Take away the speed, and he was taking more hits than...okay, he hadn't landed a hit yet. No matter how many turns they took, or how frequently, Inertia kept up, blocking whatever Impulse threw at him, and when he cared to, landed a hit here and there.
But he couldn't give up. No way. Otherwise, the bad guys would win. They couldn't let that happen.
So that's why he kept trying to punch at his clone, even twisting his torso to a side to try and make it easier for both arms to join in. No matter what, Inertia kept blocking and knocking fists to a side. Never once did the blond take his eyes away from him.
When the brown-haired speedster tried to grab at the black and green speedster, Inertia whacked away both hands one at a time, then threw an uppercut right into the white and red speedster's gut. Oh man, that was a good one. He could taste something acidic in the back of his throat, like, oh man, reflux or something.
"This is getting sad," Inertia remarked. "How many more hits do you think you can take? I think I felt a rib begin to move on that one."
Yeah, no kidding. That explained a little of the pressure he was feeling in his side. Quick recovery meant that the bones were going back into place, but all this running was slowing that down.
His eyes flickered downward, then he kicked a foot right into his imposter's path, hoping to trip him. So smooth it was almost like...something smooth, Inertia jumped over it without even looking surprised. An elbow swung at the brown-haired speedster, and he would love to tell you that he ducked under it.
Green-gloved hands grabbed the front of his costume and pulled. The next thing Impulse knew, he was facing the blond clone who was showing a lot of teeth right now and why was he still moving only backwards?
The wall stopped him, the metal holding, but it did have a little rippling wobble that spread out and down the hallway. Then the pain just washed over him and all he could do was gasp out loud. Oh. Ohhhhh...he was definitely feeling that in the morning. And the arm suddenly pressing against his throat was not helping matters either.
"They complained about my name back there," Inertia remarked, applying more pressure with his arm. "But what about yours? You, who epitomizes it. Because that's all you are: an impulse. A simple, unthinking impulse, and that's why I am better than you. Undone by your own name!"
Through the yellow lens over his eyes, Impulse glared back, his jaw clenching. His breathing was becoming shallower, but he wasn't in danger just yet. He kept his gaze on the free arm, the one that his imposter slowly raised up, the hand balled into a tight fist.
And Inertia, Thad, was giving a chuckle. "It's all you are. It's all you'll ever be. Here in an instant, gone in a flash, and forgotten about once you're gone. It's more than you deserve. It's all you deserve." That smile that was starting to split the blond's face was very creepy and in no way did it brighten your day. "I may not take your legacy, but I can be satisfied with ending it."
The fist was moving at a speed only speedsters could reach. It was a blow that some power was being put into. It wasn't some casual hit or one with surgical precision behind it. Maybe that was why Impulse was able to slide his hand up and push it ever so slightly to the left. The green-clad fist nearly grazed his head, and the heavy thwack! that meant bone and flesh had impacted metal and metal won was almost like listening to that music Wally liked to listen to. What was it called in this era? Oh yeah, rock.
That creepy smile disappeared as Inertia face slackened, eyes widening, and a split second later, the green and black speedster had pulled back, grabbing a hand that was looking a little bit mangled.
Like his namesake, the one he had been accused of being, Impulse lashed out, and for the first time, managed to punch the Thawne in front of him right in the middle of his face. Inertia's head snapped to a side, and while that was happening, the red and white speedster tried to copy a move from one of the movies in Wally's collection, jumping while slicing a kick sideways to strike the other speedster in the chest.
Inertia was thrown back, slamming into and bouncing off a wall and then ricocheting off the opposite one before stopping against the first wall he had run into. Oh, that felt so good. It was even better getting to watch it too.
Pushing himself away from where he had been pinned, Impulse warily watched his clone, waiting for his next move. Inertia propped himself against the wall he stopped on, wiping at his face while glaring back. No words were said, even as the green and black speedster pushed away from the wall, stepping out into the middle of the hallway.
"Well?" Impulse demanded challengingly. "You got anything to say? Maybe I am impulsive, but that's not all I am. So come on. Let me show you what I'm really made of."
Now, he might have been bluffing there. Not gonna lie, he had been really getting his ass kicked back there, but that could be blamed on still not being one hundred percent after being used as a battery charger. So that was his excuse, and he was sticking with it. It was totally luck that he had gotten the upper hand just now, but he was a lucky guy so this had to be the moment where he turned everything around.
And Inertia began to run...away, and took the first left.
The unexpected action took Impulse by surprise, enough that he could only stand there and blink dumbly. Surprisingly, his thoughts caught up to the situation faster than his body normally did, and he could only think, Wow! It worked!
That bluff had really, actually, wor—hey. Wait a second. Inertia had just run off and ditched him! What was all that talk about being better and faster and blah blah blah when this is what he did! Oh hell no! He wasn't about to let that fragging douche get away just like that!
So as fast as an impulse, he took off and down the first left. Time to show this guy who was really the fastest around here!
There was a change, but no one could quite put their finger on it. Something was going on, but what could it be? Everything looked the same. Same sounds, same people, same city. So what was different?
Everything was brighter, but that was normal. It typically became brighter as the sun moved across the sky, the day moving from morning to noon to afternoon. Maybe it was a bit brighter than normal, but it was just that time of the year.
Soon enough, no amount of denial would keep the citizens of Jump City from admitting to themselves that this wasn't right. The lighting was not normal sunlight. So what could it be?
A few brave souls would eventually look up. Some would look up at the sky, and due to where they were, would not see the source of what was brightening the city. Others, however, would have their luck rewarded when they caught sight of the top of the Transpacific Pyramid, and saw how the spire was glowing.
They would point, gather up the attention of the other pedestrians. Some were calling 911 to report the strange happening. More than what was acceptable were filming it on their phones, some making commentary, but all asking the same questions.
No longer ignored or undiscovered, the spire atop the architectural city symbol continued to grow brighter as it continued to power up.
It was only a matter of time now.
Emerging from a roll, Red Robin kept his arms up at the ready while not looking away from the teleporting Batman wannabe. The teleporter was in a defensive stance as well, maintaining eye contact.
Normally, this was the part where some banter would be had, usually some words about killing him, but not this time apparently. It was so strange to the vigilante to actually have a silent enemy for once.
He edged forward, and so did the teleporter. The masked teen felt there should have been some circling as well, but the hallway was not big enough for that. Once in range, Red Robin went on the offensive first, jabbing a punch first. The teleporter jerked back but did not step back, avoiding the attack all the same. The vigilante tried again, and got a similar response. Oh, this was getting a little tense and he waited to see what would be thrown at him.
That turned out to be a gloved first, black in color, and Red Robin parried it with his lower arm. Next he blocked a follow up jab with the side of his elbow, caught the third strike with another block, then lashed out himself with a punch. Unfortunately, his arm curled a little too much, and the Batman wannabe was able to lean back just enough to avoid it.
He felt the blow in his ribs, and the masked teen grunted as he reversed his arm, almost elbowing the other's masked face. He blocked the two countering strikes, bent his torso slightly so that he could ram his shoulder into the teleporter's thin chest, pushing further down the hallway. Cocking an arm back, he gave three quick jabs into the teleporter's stomach, then gave a shove with his other arm, pulling back as he did so.
Taking a deep breath, the masked teen waited for the next trading of blows, even as his opponent stumbled to keep his footing. Red eyes glared at him, and two thin arms slipped under a black cape, raising it up so that it draped in the air. A fist swung into the cape, and recalling what he had been told about this from Raven, Red Robin immediately thought of all the angles he could, considering where they were, and acted.
He dropped to his feet, missing the fist that appeared out of thin air from behind him. The hand and lower arm pulled back to where it had come from, reappearing in front of the teleporter who seemed to be giving him a look, one that admitted being impressed.
Weird how he could read that from the other's body language. Whatever. The cape closed around the teleporter's body, only the masked head sticking out from the dark curtain of cloth. Legs snaked from behind him and wrapped around his neck. A fist materialized in front of his face, and snapped his head to a side from the force behind it. Another blow got him in the gut, but the force there only got another grunt out of him.
Clasping his hands on the legs, Red Robin jerked to his right just as another first tried to him, and got a shin for its trouble. Overcorrecting to the left, the masked teen blocked with the other leg, letting go with one hand to pull it away only to ram it into the sole of the booted foot viciously, trying to get the legs to let go however he could.
Okay, not working. Clenching his jaw, the vigilante pulled his hand away one more time only to ram it up once more. However, he aimed a little higher, and his palm bounced off the teleporter's knee. Almost missing it, Red Robin barely heard the soft hiss from his opponent, so repeated the action one more time while pushing up with his other arm.
The hold around his neck loosened, and as he pushed up on the legs, he let his own bend and lower his body until he was able to slip his head out. Almost immediately, the legs pulled back and disappeared. At almost the same time, the Batman wannabe's cape parted to reveal the rest of the teleporter's body, including those legs that had once gripped the vigilante's neck. Regaining balance and straightening up, Red Robin chose a new—well, maybe not so new, but still—tactic, slipping out a birdarang and throwing it. The teleporter waited, then spread out one arm, his cape draped over the limb, then swiped it just as the throwing projectile got close.
Eyes widening behind his mask, Red Robin ducked immediately just as his own weapon sliced through the air where his head had been. With the aim different, the birdarang flew harmlessly past the teleporter, though the masked teen's glare did not.
The glare was more out of being affronted, but that didn't mean the vigilante wasn't thinking. So far, whenever this guy pulled his little trick of his with that cape, there had only been two directions from which to expect attacks. The front and the back, and the teleporter was favoring the back.
He slipped out another birdarang and threw it just as quickly. Predictably, the teleporter pulled off the same move, and Red Robin pulled off the same dodge. Once again, the throwing projectile was heading in the teleporter's direction, but unlike the last one—
Just as it was passing by his opponent's head, the spinning birdarang detonated, flashing a small explosion that finally got a sound out of the silent enemy, a cry of surprise.
Red Robin closed in, and the first place he hit was the middle of the teleporter's face. Grabbing the cape, he pulled back on it while throwing and landing a second punch to the face. Pulling his arm back, he swooped under and hit an uppercut into the gut, getting an "oof!" and a familiar rush of air leaving the lungs. His other hand released the cape only to deck the Batman wannabe in the side of the face.
He kept the momentum going, falling in with the flow as he took a step back, his fist leaving the gut it had dug into. On his toes, he spun, raising a leg as he did so, and lashing out with it to hit a blow powerful enough that it threw the teleporter off his feet and onto the floor, his cape covering his body.
With both of his feet firmly placed on the floor, Red Robin watched his fallen opponent, waiting for any sign of—
Immediately, his hands reached up and caught the pair of disembodied ones that had, predictably, come from behind and were trying to wrap around his throat. That son of a bitch! Their strengths were still about equal, though, so it was stalemate. Well, at least until the arms began to twist, fighting against the vigilante's thumbs instead of his fingers, breaking the masked teen's gripped and snaking around his neck even as the dark-haired teen continued to struggle with them.
Motherfucking son of a—! Teeth clenched tightly, he continued to fight, a part of his cape whipping about. It was only from the corner of his eye that he noticed, and then acted. Dropping an arm, he snagged the very thin garment. It was hard to tell, but there were slits in the cape, ones that became noticeable under certain circumstances. As best as he could, he bunched and wrapped the cape around one of the arms, and when satisfied—though not really—he brought his hand to his chest, where the clasp to the belts holding the cape onto his shoulders rested.
He activated the electric current—
A loud shriek of the purest agony echoed down the hallway, covering up an audible snap. No sooner had he deactivated the current did both arms vanish, and the teleporter roll onto his back, holding the messy remains of an arm.
Oh, that did not look pretty.
Breathing deeply, Red Robin decided to take pity on the guy. Walking up, he raised one booted foot up then viciously slammed it down on the teleporter's face, the thin body going limp immediately.
The hum of the electronic machinery was all that he could hear. It was a distraction, something he could place in the back of his mind for a period of time only for it to return later. Distractions could not be afforded right now, especially not when he was so vulnerable.
He was Mallah's life. Without him, the Monsieur would be another gorilla, one unaware of himself, limited by a mind that was incapable of higher cognition and reasoning. The first memories he ever had, ones that he could reflect upon and recall with minimal effort were of him. He who stood over the evolved gorilla, who looked down and saw an equal.
No other human mattered. Logan was just another human there. Caulder, a human for whom only death would be acceptable. Just him, who opened to him, who talked with him, who provided warmth and care, food and shelter, and above all, perhaps a feeling that would have been almost alien to him once.
Love. That was what Mallah felt. It was love that had him force his way through the fires to rescue this man. To learn how to provide the most remedial of health care. To arm himself with weapons of war to protect him. To study engineering and build the fantastical marvels of science.
For Mallah, all of this was for the love he held for him.
And now here they were, at the end of their journey, on the cusp of success, of destiny, and he was charged to protecting the one who had given him everything.
It was a duty he would not fail.
We are nearing full charge, he announced. We are close, Mallah. So very close.
Mallah did not answer, his eyes set on the doors, and his automatic rifle aimed at the only entrance into this room. Nothing had disturbed them, not yet. His guard would not relax, not until he was safe.
You have been very patient, mon petite Monsieur. Mallah felt a shiver race up his spine. My gratitude for you knows no limits. All your work, all your dedication, your devotion, has allowed me to come this far.
"I would do it again," Mallah answered, swallowing down the burning in his throat. "My only regret is that I was not fast enough when you needed me the most." Not once did the barrel of his weapon waver as he spoke.
There is no one else I would have by my side. Continue with your dedication and devotion. I must concentrate on what comes next.
And he would have all the opportunity to concentrate. Mallah would ensure it himself.
His grip on the rifle's handle tightened as he distantly heard a dull boom. His body tensed and his legs spread. Was it a false alarm? A noise made by the marvelous machine that they both stood in? One of the intruders? Regardless of what it was, he would treat it as a threat and wait.
There was another dull boom, except it was louder. Less time passed in the following interval as the booming turned into crashing. He didn't like it. There was no way to know what it was as the sealed doors blocked his view of everything outside.
Then the boom echoed throughout the room.
On your guard, he warned. They have arrived.
And that was all they would be allowed to do. Mallah would see to it himself.
The boom occurred again, this time the doors shuddered. Mallah took aim, peering through the rifle's scope. When next the boom happened, a small bulge in the doors pushed towards the gorilla. The bulge became bigger with each following boom.
He would not let shock stun him. This room in particular had been reinforced to the point that it was nearly redundant. Redundant appeared to be not enough as the doors were nearly caving in, one hit away from being broken off.
The booming stopped, but he was no fool to lower his weapon. No one gave up so easily, not when they were so close—wait, what was that? There was a low whine, and had Mallah not had been paying attention, he could have missed how the allegedly sealed door was slowly being pried open. But he saw it, and he waited.
As soon as the doors were pulled open, Mallah pulled the trigger, firing an unending stream of bullets into the opening of this sanctuary. Smoke from the constant stream of discharges, of used gunpowder and spent shells, began to fill the air around the gorilla as well as the doorway, blocking much from sight. And he did not stop firing, not until the clip ended. It was simple to eject it and slam another one in to continue the assault, because overkill was not nearly overkill enough.
Only once did the second clip empty did Mallah stop, glaring as whoever dared to interrupt—
A glowing lasso of rope streaked in and wrapped around his automatic weapon. Before the thought of letting go of it could occur to him, Mallah found himself pulled out of the room and into the hallway where a fist covered in gold armor awaited him.
Mallah leaned back in his flight so that his feet were angled ahead of him Against thick plates of gold armor did they contact, and he was barely able to lean back far enough to skim the knuckles of the fist trying to hit him.
Momentum pushed him forward, and that included the intruder, gold armor crashing back into a wall. Mallah leapt off, landing in the open doorway. Unfortunately, he had lost his weapon, so he had to rely on his natural strength and prowess for what was to come.
It was only now he was able to get a good look at his enemy. Much of the body was covered in armor, gleaming gold, and equipped with spikes. He could barely make out the eyes from the helm that now covered the head, but he knew they were watching him.
"Jackpot," a decidedly female voice echoed from beneath the helm.
"You will not," he snarled, standing tall and unconsciously making his body as big as it could get. Some instincts and body language could never truly be cast aside, even with his increased mental functions. Size was primal, and the larger you were, the more danger you possessed.
Leave it to humans to ignore it.
The armored female lashed out with that glowing rope, an interesting combination of gold and red. He seized it, snatching it and yanking on it. His large, leathery hand clasped down on the front of the helm, and with a mighty swing, he threw her down the hallway and away from the heart of this facility.
Stepping out of the doorway and taking several feet down the hall, he set himself up as the obstacle he was, the last defense. He could see her rocketing her way towards him. Youth, it made them so blind.
An armored fist was swung, and he caught the arm it was attached to at the gauntlet. He repeated the same action when the other one flew at him. With both arms captured, he slammed the armored female into the wall on his left, reversed, and then into the right. Again, he threw her down the hallway, and took several steps down it before coming to another stop.
His enemy was pickling herself off the floor where she had rested. She shook her head then raised it to glare back. Interestingly, there were changes to the armor, primarily in the shoulders which were now bulkier and with added spikes. Observation stopped as she charged at him again, Mallah waiting patiently.
This time, he jerked to the left, dodging the attacking fist. Next was a dodge to the right. As if learning that punching was not working, the female reared back and lashed out with a kicking leg. Compared to the rest of her body, the armored boots were still smooth and streamlined, no signs of spikes anywhere. It was safe to catch then pull on. Over his head she went to slam onto the floor behind him. Tightening the grip that he had not released, he repeated once more.
Then the other foot struck him in the face. His head jerked back and his beret fell off. He released his grip on the captured leg and took a step back, not wanting to keep pressing the assault.
Delay, he had to keep delaying. Every second he bought was one more for him to use.
"Okay, enough monkeying around," the female huffed as she got back on her feet. Mallah narrowed his eyes at the expression, his jaw tightening. "You're in my way," she continued through deep breaths. "Get out of it."
"You will have to kill me," he growled.
She stilled, as if the words held meaning to her. It was a distraction all the same, and he couldn't resist. With a bestial roar he launched his own offensive, barreling down on the human who he swore would interfere no longer.
Even if he had to kill her himself.
