That instant of distraction was all Goliath needed. He surged forward, claws outstretched, and his hand engulfed the heads of two Foot ninja. With the shrill squeal of crushed metal, sparks and loose bolts filled his hands. He swung both bodies in a wide arc, knocking over three more. Lobbing them into the crowd, he staggered the remainder.
He looked over his shoulder at the wounded mutants, eyes burning like halogen lights. "Run! We shall hold them, now run!"
Wingnut shook his head, trying to protest. But Screwloose grabbed the collar of his sleeveless shirt. "Do as he says, let's go!"
"But what about you?!" Wingnut looked to the old one.
"We'll be right behind ye, lads. Fly if you can, run if you can't!" He sprang forward, speed and precision belying his age, as he cleaved one robot straight down the middle into clean, sparking halves. A gush of oil sprayed his face, like the splatter of blood.
Wingnut looked at the two monsters–no, men–who had saved their lives. Gratitude glistened in his beady black eyes. With a solemn nod, he clutched Screwloose close to his chest and took off running. A small contingent of Foot soldiers took off after him, continuing pursuit.
Bang, bang, bang! There was a burst of oil and metal shards, and all three Foot fell. Elisa leveled her gun, knowing who the foe was now. She whirled around, side-stepping a naginata that would have split her in twain, whipping a boot heel to the face of the robot with a shout! She squeezed two more rounds into it, looking up just in time to see the mangled remains of a Foot ninja, mechanical innards whining, leap at her!
She threw up a block with a forearm, and felt the thing's punch-punch-kick connect! She felt the blasts of pain as blood vessels broke under her skin. Even damaged beyond any human recognition, it still hit like a horse! She saw one spiked knee-guard rocketing towards her face, only just grabbing it in time to catch it, throw it off balance and dance away! But it got up, continuing pursuit. Two more joined it, and she felt her heart race as she realized very, very quickly that she was not going to escape them for long.
There was a rush and a roar–a sound like an enormous enraged lion, a weight in the wind like a meteor strike–and all three robots were knocked from her pursuit, sent clear away.
Elisa did not allow herself to turn around. She couldn't, with the one-armed remnant of a Foot closing in. An elbow to the face, a knee to the gut, she nearly completed the three-stroke death strike when the robot caught her fist. She gasped and cried out with pain as her wrist bent back the wrong way. A splurt of hydraulic fluid escaped from the robot's neck, and suddenly its arm went limp, unable to complete the maneuver that most certainly would have snapped her wrist.
Wasting no chance, she took the damaged arm, hauled it over her shoulder, and rolled the robot across her back, thumping it into the ground like a man-shaped sack of potatoes. The arm snapped off in her grip, and she cried out with shock! She tossed it away, shaken by how easily it had snapped in her hands.
She took a step back, and nearly fell into the arms of four more ninjas. She looked up, putting up her arms again to protect her face. Too many, too close! The one nearest her whirled a pair of nunchaku, and she heard the first swish of the flail whoosh past her ear. She backpedaled as fast as she could. One hit would break her arms!
She tripped, feeling something heavy and solid connect with her ankles. She fell backwards into the sand, air escaping her lungs with a pained grunt. The shock tore coughing from her lungs, dust and damage from the weeks before clamoring for her air with a vengeance. She couldn't catch any breath!
She looked up, the oil-soaked machine stood above her with glowing red in its eyes.
It lifted its weapon, whirling length of chain and hardened nylon ready to come down on her exposed skull. She flinched, bracing for what she knew would be one last blinding flash.
CRAAACK!
She opened her eyes. Standing over her was an enormous shadow, as dense and as dark as a volcanic boulder. All she could see was the stone-like scales that protected a heavy clawed foot, with three talons and a dewclaw each easily the size of her forearm. She coughed, still struggling to breathe. There was a crunch of steel, and the dribble of motor oil and hydraulic fluid, soaking the sand next to her hand. A tail, as big as the oar of a boat, passed over her head as the creature began to turn around.
Her gun. The Glock lay in the dust near her head. Picking it up, somersaulting aside and up into a kneel, she raised it to point up at whatever it was that nearly put its talons through her skull.
She looked into the eyes of a monster.
His claws outstretched, in a stance that felt as tense and coiled as a wolf circling a wounded animal. His white eyes burned like two full moons underneath a horned brow ridge that pulled his features into a permanent scowl. His lips curled, fangs bared. A rumble rolled from his barrel chest. A thick mane of black hair, soaked with red blood and black machine oil, clung to his mauve skin. That tail, long and smooth, traced the sand near his long, bestial ankles with anticipation. Two wings, so big they blotted out the streetlights, loomed over her head.
"Are you friend," He intoned. "Or foe?"
She finally found enough air to answer him. "I could ask you the same." She rasped.
April didn't want to breathe. Huddled in the footwell of the passenger side of the police cruiser, she focused on staying as perfectly still as possible. A black bath towel–one of her most useful perennial carry items–was draped over her head and back, hopefully turning her into just another shadow inside the heavily tinted Ford Interceptor.
She tried to focus on meditative breaths. Be like Leo, be like Leo. She chanted quietly to herself.
She heard three gunshots. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, rhythm shaken by the report that was only just muffled by the car door.
Be like Leo.
BANG-BANG!
She breathed in quietly. She breathed out.
GRRROOOOOARRR!
Be like Leo.
There was a thump against the hood of the car, and a voice.
"I hate needing to stay out of sight." A woman drawled. "These tin cans are so lame. It sucks that we don't get a piece of the fun this time."
"This is just a dry run." A man's voice, thin and sneering, replied. "Just working out the bugs."
"Speaking of bugs," The woman scoffed. "What do they want with a bug and a bat anyway?"
Bug and a bat? April's mind whirled. Wingnut and Screwloose?
"Fox pointed us to a hunt." The man replied with an audible shrug. "I'm here for the blood and the money, not the answers."
There was a shift on the hood, a faint squeak. Like the sound of nails on a chalkboard, steel on steel. "They're getting away, brother." Not urgent or upset. Bored.
The man barked a cruel laugh. "They think they're going to get far. With that hole you put through that freak's wing, he won't be going anywhere fast. Wolf and Dingo should have them any minute now."
The woman paused, quiet. "Oh, speak of the Devil, and he will appear. They just bagged them both."
"Told you."
"Ready to call it? I need my beauty sleep."
"We were told to wait until the last of these drones are dead. We're here to collect data, not get bored and wander off."
"Bored? Ha!" The woman's scoff was just as edged and cruel as the man's. "I'm watching a cop get beat to a pulp, and I don't have to lift a finger. I'm having a great time!"
There was a shriek of steel that made April's teeth buzz! Four claws, gilt in gold, tore through the door and dragged their way down the side! Like four box cutters through cardboard, they popped through the siding and shredded four clean lines.
April squeaked, the tiniest noise of fear. She watched three dark springs of her red curls drift to the floor of the car.
"Was that really necessary?" The man's voice was laden with scorn.
"She'll be dead in a few minutes. If this works, we'll be blaming it on them anyway."
"Then why don't you go and finish her off?"
"I'm lazy. I don't feel like washing blood out of my hair tonight."
"How unlike you." She heard footsteps, pacing nonchalantly alongside the car. They paused.
"Wait…" She heard his voice again. Her heart practically buzzed, like the wingbeats of a terrified hummingbird trying to escape her ribcage.
"What is it now?" The woman drawled.
"I think there's something in here…" She heard the sound of four metal somethings click against the glass of the cruiser window, just over her head. "Just under the seat."
"Well, crack it open. Like I said, it won't matter in a few minutes. She'll be dead, they'll be scrap, and we'll be home." The woman tapped the windshield with one of those massive claws.
April felt in her pocket for a paper-wrapped roll of quarters. She closed her fist around them, and waited for the door to open.
Suddenly, there was a rustle and another thump on the hood. The woman swore, loudly. There was a deafening roar, right beside the car on the driver's side! April didn't dare look up, but its timbre drove a heavy thud through her chest.
"I think that's our cue to leave, sis!" The man shouted.
There was a thud, and the cruiser buckled! April's teeth dug through her lip as she covered her head, the windows cracking from the force of whatever had just landed on the roof! She couldn't hide here any longer, she had to go!
She rolled onto her back, tugging the handle and planting her feet against the passenger door. She kicked it hard! It didn't budge the first time. Two, three, and on the fourth strike, the door popped open. She somersaulted out, and took off at a dead sprint down the street, not looking back.
"Dammit!" The man howled. "Sis, we got a witness!"
"You go get her, I'll handle Scooby Doo!"
April's legs pumped, sneakers slapping the pavement in her life-or-death sprint. The roll of quarters still clenched in one fist and the black towel in the other, she booked it down the street, veering left into a thru-alley. She dared take a look backwards at her pursuer.
A man, tall and lean, with a long mane of black hair. She couldn't see his face, but she could see the glint of his elbow-length gauntlets with what she could only assume to be razor-sharp claws. He was quickly gaining on her. He was taller, bigger, and most certainly better armed than April was.
She made a snap decision; stay out of a fight, focus on an escape. April had been a witness. They weren't going to let her leave alive. Shoring up her courage, she pulled her hood over her head, pulled the collar of her shirt over her nose, and kept running.
April whipped the towel at her side, whirling it into a tight loop. Folding it over into an improvised club, she tucked the roll of quarters into the crest of the loop. She grimaced. She was about to lose $10. But it was better than losing her head. She aimed for the fire escape that ran up the side of the building, eyes trained on the folded ladder kept high and out of reach. She leapt, and the towel snapped, curling around the lowest rung of the ladder. She heard the clang of the roll of quarters meeting its mark. With a reluctant groan, the ladder descended.
It wasn't enough to pull it down completely. Her hand caught the lowest rung, and she let the counterbalance of the ladder lift her back up into the air! Shoulders screaming, she hoisted herself up onto the precarious perch, hop-scotching across the rungs until she reached the lowest platform of the escape. She kept running up the escape, iron ringing with each footfall.
She risked a glance back, and her heart flew up into her throat. The man dug those metal claws into the brick and started scaling the wall after her.
"Shell!" April kept going up the fire escape. She'd been counting on losing him there, where was she going to go now?
She looked about the rooftop of the brownstone apartment building. The maintenance door! She reached into her thigh pocket of her cargo pants, pulling out a single wave rake and a tiny pry tool. Desperately, she started raking the lock, trying to get it to pop open before her pursuer reached the roof.
She couldn't help but grin and fist pump when the door clicked open. Swiftly, she slipped inside and slammed it shut, turning the bolt and backing away from the door.
She heard a knock. Metal on cold metal, like the ring of a bell.
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in." The man sang.
April's legs felt like jelly. She struggled to catch her breath. If that woman could shred a police cruiser like it was paper, then this man wasn't going to be held by this door. But she was so exhausted. The sprint had taken everything out of her. Still, life on the line, she couldn't stop.
But she was so tired.
April gulped lungfuls of air. The man knocked again, musically this time. Tap-ta-ta-tap tap, tap SCREECH! Four claws popped through the steel door, and started to drag their way down to the handle.
She sailed down the staircase, nearly colliding with the wall in her flight. Her knees were weak, armpits sweaty, her entire chest sore and aching. She couldn't keep running for long.
But then, instead of footfalls, she heard another sound.
Whoosh!
Crrrnch, crrrnch, crrrnch, WHOMPF!
