College life is now eating up most of my writing activity, but here's another chapter anyway! This one was difficult to write. Ace had to assist with fight choreography.
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Phaaze 06: Fetcher (Part 2)
I was distracted. It's the only excuse I can manage. I was distracted by the bastard that swiped my prize, and I didn't get off the bridge in time. Now I'm here, tumbling through half-melted metal with Caa'eln a few feet from me, suffering the same fate.
I catch myself on my feet in time, luckily. Impressive for a ten-foot fall, though it stings a little; the Thule isn't so lucky. I can hear his armor getting scraped and sliced by scrap metal upon roughly landing on top of the rest of the junk around here.
I'm seeing red through the blue of my visor. Where is he? Where's the Hunter that took my quarry?
A figure flashes through my vision to the left as I hurry out from under the collapsing bridge overhead, and I snap to it. There he is—running away, with briefcase in hand!
Not today. I take chase.
There's a faint glow to the bottom of his boots and he's taking shortcuts on support beams and the thick red metal of the smelting pits. Running along the walls and climbing his way up. Gravity boots—whoop-dee-doo for me—he can walk on walls, and I can't. But who says that makes it impossible to catch up?
Stopping and tracking his movements, I scan the area while workers stare awkwardly behind me in bewilderment of the melted catwalk, looking between me and Caa'eln, who is furious and writhing in pain. I can't take accurate shots at him from this distance, but I have to stop him somehow, or else Shield's payment won't be completed. I will not have scrounged this deep into Federation territory just to miss out on my biggest payment in months!
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I shouldn't be feeling guilty. Why do I feel like I want to kick myself in the head for intercepting this trade?
Either way, Samus hasn't chased me since I switched to running on walls and smelting pits, so it should be easy enough to take the quarry back to Nigul. I flip the radio switch for a quick transmission. "Nigul, the fish is in the net. What's our point of rendezvous?"
His voice filters back through the line, "North sector of the junk yard by the S-01 smelting pit. I will be there in three."
Still not feeling fantastic about this catch; nevertheless, "Fine…I'll be there in five or less." And that's the end of that, radio switching off as I veer north on one of the catwalks. Workers bustle aside and scream at me; I'm not focused enough on them to care. I'm in too much of a hurry to leave—maybe by the time I reach the ship, the bad feeling settling in my gut will vanish and I'll be right as rain. People and heat blur past me, giant steaming vats of liquefied metal popping and gurgling in the smelting pits scattered every two-hundred yards or so. It's a hell I suddenly have this desperate urge to escape from and I can't wait to be back with Nigul and the Victor.
But, right as I'm swerving down one catwalk wrapping over the top of a smelting pit for a shortcut, a bright yellow and orange figure swarms into my view and I'm on the wrong end of a plasma cannon.
I can't see her eyes, but I just know Samus is glaring at me as I skid to a halt on the mesh-holed metal under my feet. Her stance is wide, blocking the whole walkway with her body. Well…crap.
"Drop it!" she snaps. "Now!"
I shift a bit from foot to foot, trying to buy myself some time while I scan the area around me. There's almost nowhere to go except forward or back. Or down, though a lava bath doesn't sound particularly inviting right now. Even though the catwalk's high enough not to be melted by the heat, it still surges up against us from down below, fervent and bubbling orange slag churning in a huge cauldron dug out eight or ten feet below the rim of the pit's wall. There's some immobile machinery above us that's used to drop more scrap into the mix and scoop out huge pots of it for manufacturing.
Samus gives me another warning by preparing to charge up her cannon for a shot. "Drop the briefcase," she snarls.
This is the point where I decide that caution no longer exists—and I have to admit, the adrenaline rush is a little exciting. Exciting enough that I can't resist being a little cocky as I hold up the briefcase to show. "What, this old thing? Sorry, Samus. You know I'd love to."
The cannon coils back and she straightens. There's a hesitant twitch in her movements, and I wait, watching her, ready for anything she might happen to throw at me.
"…You!" she sputters in shock. Me? Oh—right…
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Of all the people in this wide universe…what the hell is she doing with my Fetcher?! I don't have any time to be impressed with what she is—not when she still has the other half of my payment in her possession.
"Who's 'you'?" she quips back. "I don't think I know anyone called 'you'."
The attitude doesn't help any. I'm angry—no, now I'm downright pissed. How dare she mock me after stealing from me? No matter what parlor tricks she has hidden in that suit, she's making a big mistake in thinking she can toy with me like this. Rightfully, I snap back at her, "Don't get smart! What the hell are you doing here?"
She has the nerve to laugh at me; it takes every drop of strength and will not to lunge at her right there. The fingers on my right hand twitch around the cannon trigger. "Same thing you are, obviously," answers my opponent. "What's the matter? Pissed I took your treasure?"
"Figured that out all on your own, did you?" I growl.
She shakes her head at me. "Awww, come on…how was I supposed to know you'd be after this thing?"
I blink at her behind my visor, advancing. "Are you joking? Please tell me that was a joke, because that's the worst lie I've ever heard in my life."
"Ah…I'm not a very good liar to start with," she admits. "But don't blame me, blame my employer!" cries the Hunter, shrugging her shoulders and backing away. "Seriously, if it were up to me, I'd much rather work with you."
That is enough. I've had it with these games. Aiming my cannon, I take a good shot at her middle; to knock her down, at least, if not incapacitate her some. But she narrowly dodges it, pressing against the side railing of the catwalk—almost falling over into the hissing vat below. "That's your last warning," I tell her grimly, "Now give me the briefcase!"
She cocks her head at me, balancing the briefcase on her knees. "You don't remember my name at all, do you?"
"I knew you for all of one minute," I say, "You tell me."
The Hunter scoffs at me, looking up, "Huh! You're not at all how I pictured you."
Something bristles up the rows of my spine and I aim again, sneering. "Sorry to disappoint." And then I take my shot—she barely misses the whole hit, but I can just see the side of her armor being grazed before she's on me, taking to melee combat. She's fast! Pressure smacks against my visor—the heel of her palm, I think—and then the earth moves as her leg takes my balance away and my back hits the metal, heat surging against my suit in a constant growing wave. I fight back by sweeping her down with me and rolling forward to drag her in. She blocks the punch I throw; I'm jerked down again. Jarring vibrations of pain smash through my skull as she cracks her helmet against mine and I reel back onto my feet, hand briefly flying there before I shake back to my senses in time to find her in another fighting stance.
Both of us look down at relatively the same time to see that the briefcase was discarded between us where we used to be. When we look up we stare at each other, wondering who's going to go for it first, I daring her to move the same way as me.
Too bad for her I'm half a second faster. I don't just run for it, I leap, sliding across the catwalk after grabbing the handle. She crosses to the side of me and I fire rapidly from my cannon, three or four shots in succession. Two miss, but the other two manage to lock target at her calf. A bright red spider-web of cracks forms in the armor, but it withstands the shots pretty well; though I can see by the way she stumbles for a moment that the pain doesn't go unnoticed.
While I get up to recover from the close-combat attacks, the large crane arms above us whirl to life, beginning slowly to pick up pieces of scrap and to scoop out huge broiling pots of slag from the cauldron below. The heat spikes up and both of us hear a creaking beneath our feet; though it doesn't stop me from taking another shot at my opponent.
But the shots miss, instead ramming the walkway while she flips fully over the side. For a moment I'm struck with shock and wonder if she's really jumped into the pit, looking around too late to find the glow of gravity boots beneath my feet.
And then I barely jerk my foot out of the way as a glowing blue energy blade slices through the steel like paper.
The blade retracts, and is followed by another, and another, and by dodging each one I'm forced down the gauntlet of the strip to keep from getting my legs sliced off. At one point one blade draws out with a screech of metal only for another to carve cleanly through the side of the walkway, railing and all, taking off a chip of my boot. I can hear the structure creaking and groaning under the stress of our fight combined with the smoldering heat of the pit: it's not meant to handle this kind of damage under this temperature. I dare not fire my cannon at this point, too aware that the flimsy thing I'm standing on could give out at any second.
My opponent is either not as observant as I or simply doesn't care: in the next moment she takes a full slash through the walkway, and that's where it cracks down into a slope and starts to collapse. I barely crawl my way up in time to avoid being plunged into the pit as a huge chunk of the catwalk falls into the smelting pit after dinging the protective metal wall. It just happens to be our luck that the rest of the structure soon follows suit.
The entire bridge starts to sway, moving closer and closer to the pit, and I run as fast as possible to beat the fall on the other side. I don't see how she gets out of the mess, focused only on the fact that the temperature spikes higher and higher the longer I take to get out of this area. A running leap over the end of the walkway is my saving grace as the whole thing topples sideways into the pit, breaking off at the poles. The sound of collapsing metal is only just louder than the sound of my feet crunching against the ground at the end of a Screw Attack jump. It breaks some of the impact, but not nearly enough to take away the jolt of the landing.
As soon as I'm ready for whatever's next, a second pair thump to the ground in front of me, and my opponent momentarily wobbles, swinging her arms, before catching her balance. "Woo-hoo, not bad at all!" she laughs.
A growl bubbles up from my throat. Gripping my quarry tightly, I charge the cannon this time before firing. She's too close to dodge it this time.
The clash of plasmatic forces crackles lightning that splits the air; I hear the snap and screech of junk scraping over the earth while her feet skid backwards. I only blink once. It's amazing that she's able to stand against it in the first place—now I find myself wondering how she did it.
I get my answer when the energy dissipates in a bang, forcing the Hunter backwards onto the ground. Two pulsating blue energy blades are out in the open, crossed before her like an 'X': left arm firmly over her front while the right is much lower, the reason being that one blade curls backwards over her forearm while the other protrudes from the wrist. So she braced the impact by absorbing most of the damage into her own weapons; not bad. Pretty creative for a last-minute defense against a charge that big…
For a moment, I think I'm seeing blood, until I realize the red on her arms is not body fluid: it's the color of her bodysuit. Pieces of her armor crack off under the back-curved blade and whole fingers of the suit slide off to join the scrap pile. I allow myself a proud little smile; not what I was hoping to accomplish, but it did leave its mark. I hold my cannon arm steady for another shot, just in case. "Give up?" I ask.
She scoffs at me. "Quitting is for rookies. I'm just getting warmed up!" She stands up, getting into a preparative stance, crossing her defensive blade out across her chest while she positions the outward-extended one towards me just above it. Her stance is firm but narrow, right foot placed behind the left. I can already see that we have very different styles of fighting; meaning I'll have to work to keep my advantage up and the briefcase in my possession.
"Oh, you're no rookie," I supply with a light chuckle, fingers twitching, "But you're not that good."
"So who is that good—you?" We're circling each other now, trash crumpling under our feet. Whatever expressions we have are kept secret under our helmets and visors. I'm smiling.
"I've lived through enough. Ever fought a drove of Metroids before?"
"Nope. Sounds fun, though!" She can't see my scowl, so she doesn't stop talking as we move. But suddenly I notice she's becoming translucent…fading away, like a ghost. "Bet your Metroids can't pull this off," she brags. And just like that, she vanishes—out of sight, and off my radar. I blink in shock behind my visor at the sudden sightless form of my enemy and whirl around, trying to get my bearings. Shit. First gravity boots, and now a cloaking device; but there's no way she ran off yet. I still have her target in my left hand.
I can't remember the last time I fought an enemy I couldn't see. On a few occasions I encountered creatures and devices that could hide from plain sight, but I used to have an X-Ray scope to fix that problem quickly. That was when I had my Power or Varia Suit. Neither of which I am wearing. For the first time in years, I'm completely blind against my opponent.
Bitterly, I now know why I didn't pick up on her presence during the trade.
Attempting not to panic, I focus instead on what I can do in this situation. My eyes and radar can no longer be trusted; but if I can't believe what I see, maybe I can believe what I hear. I listen closely to the area around me, turning sometimes, but making as little noise as possible. I don't move unless I know it's my footsteps, my motions. Something swishes past behind me and I twist on my feet to aim my cannon, but when I fire I hit only a pile of scrap, causing everything to topple over and make a lot of racket. She could have gotten anywhere around me during that distraction. There are several false alarms after that—a whoosh of wind, an amused chuckle from nowhere—but I hit nothing but ground and trash. After the first few tries I stop shooting because I know I'm making it easier for her to hide the noise of her steps.
She's playing with me. I can't stand waiting around for her to attack, and she has to know I'm getting jittery over this. Come on—where did you go? Show yourself so I can sack you in one shot!
Something shifts behind me; either it's wild luck or the skill of my ears, but I catch the sound of her swords sweeping out before she can take a slice at me. Whirling around, I swing my cannon arm, and it connects with something solid—her helmet. Knocking her aside completely, I hurry to where she falls and pin the Hunter down with a foot crushed against her stomach. I aim my cannon at the same time that she sits herself up enough to lunge a sword up against my throat. The both of us are frozen there, but it isn't a stalemate. I have the upper hand here; she doesn't have enough reach to cut my throat unless I bend forward. She's trying to bluff her way out of this.
At the very least, I can give her a commendation. "I'll admit, you're pretty impressive…but it's not smart to bring swords to a gunfight."
I hear her laughing at me again and my trigger finger twitches. "Thank you. But I think it's you who's bad, for bringing a gun to a swordfight."
There's a long pause while I blink at her words, and, strangely, find myself smiling. And I chuckle. "All this for a box of junk," I mumble.
She seems to share the sentiment. "Yeah…seems silly, doesn't it?"
We stay like that for a long while. Neither of us is making a move; we're just sizing each other up, in the mild awe of a battle's aftermath, wondering how to conclude the whole thing. Either way, one of us is going to lose, and someone's going to walk out of here with wounded pride. At least that's what I can surmise up until the low thrum of ship engines roars above us; I look up, and my heart skips a few steps in shock. A small wave of panic rips through me at this development. So distracted am I that my opponent worms out from under me and jerks up to move, only to be stopped as a wave of blue-suited soldiers drop down from the sky, all of them pointing their weapons at the both of us. It's the Federation Troopers. Federation Troopers have dropped in on this disgusting junk pile. How long have they been nearby without my knowing?
"Samus Aran and Riina Claes," says the Captain of the lot, "you are under arrest for stealing from the Galactic Federation. This is a serious treason. If you do not come quietly, you willbe forcibly relocated to the criminal facility on Norion. We will ask you only once: deactivate your weapons now."
Shock and panic turn into anger—mostly against me, for getting involved in this when I knew it was too risky. I got sloppy…no, I knew the odds. I fully understood that the Federation could tail me in this district at any time. I was just overconfident…overconfident and highly motivated.
Riina, though, she just sounds stunned. "What?!" she shouts. "You're kidding me!"
"Ma'am, I won't repeat myself, and I suggest you follow my instruction," barks the Captain. Riina swivels her gaze onto him, and I can tell she's angry now.
"Bounty Hunters are not exempt from the law! You can't arrest us without probable cause!"
The Captain motions impatiently towards the thing in my hand, which I turn to look down at. "Your 'probable cause' is in her possession!"
Everything falls into place then for me, and I find myself forming a very fast and painful headache. If the Federation is interested in the contents of this briefcase…shit…Shield actually found something valuable for once. What a crappy turn of events.
Riina clenches her fists tightly, closing in against me and away from the circle of soldiers around us. "You guys just never learn," she grumbles, "Instead of arresting the grunts, you should be going after the Kingpin."
"Unfortunately, until we find that out, you two are our best possible lead," the Captain says. "I'm sorry Riina, but you're not making your case or Samus' any better. Now please deactivate your weapons and come quietly." He hesitates—why is he conversing so casually with her? "Maybe we can work something out," he says.
I turn to look at her, curious about her reaction, just in time to catch her staring back at me. I can barely see her eyes under the nearly black visor on her helmet, but there's a certain quality in them that gives me the hint she's up to something. That and she's changing her stance, widening her feet against the ground. I do the same.
Riina's plasma swords are flickering a little bit—probably because I slammed them so hard with my charge shot—but she still brandishes them in that same pose as before, and the words she speaks next are music to my ears: "Over my dead body."