I feel like I ought to have a rotation chart for the characters so I can keep track of who's turn it is next to have their portion of the tale told. Keeping with one of FLCL's themes, baseball, it could be like a batting lineup. Who's up? Who's on deck? Who's in the hole? No, Who's on first. What? On second. Why are you like this? I don't know. Wait, isn't he on third? Naturally. And speaking of naturally, we shift our focus once more; of course. Hunter Team, that Man in Black is doing what he do: nothing good. You're up!
. . .
"Oscar-Hotel, come in. Oscar-Hotel, this's Sierra-Actual, come in."
"What's it to yah?!" Shifty demanded. He and Naota were in cover behind a sandbag and concrete bollard wall. They were taking a needed break to repack their oddly filled magazines.
"Hotel, your presence is needed at Cold Stream Dam."
"Is it now?" Shifty put his last magazine away and secured the pouch cover. "Who's asking for it?"
"A dear old friend of yours has come calling."
"Didn't get enough last time, did he?" Shifty sighed and wolfishly grinned at Naota. "I'll have to take his other arm and see if that'll be enough of a hint. Uhhhhggg... tell 'em I'll take the curlers outta my hair and I'll be right down."
"NOW, Hotel."
"Understood, Sierra. Hotel is on the way." Shifty scootched along to the building's corner so he could stand. "We're needed elsewhere. I think we've done enough damage here. Mount up!"
"I, I'm going with you? Right to where The Man in Black is?"
"Unless you've got another date lined up you didn't tell me about." They ran back up the streets towards the last HQ and Shifty's stashed truck.
"Hey, I'm a popular, established guy! I could make a call and line something up; don't underestimate me."
"Alright Cassanova, meant nothing by it." Shifty took the passenger side. "You're driving." Natoa put his guitar on a rear jump seat, and both tossed their AK-47's onto the dash. As he wheeled the old C/K around barricades and through roadblocks, Naota watched out of his peripheral Shifty unlocking his Vials case.
"Hey, can I ask you a personal question?"
"S'on your mind?" Shifty held a syringe up to the dome light for inspection.
"What's your story? Is this, y'know your N.O. use and being a Hunter, what you've always done?"
"No, I've had one other job besides this one. In the private sector too, if you'll believe it."
"Yeah, where at?" On the clock and with no time, Naota rocketed them past G&R without even slowing to wave in passing.
"I worked in a pickle factory."
"A pickle factory; really?"
"Yep." Shifty examined a second syringe, Naota figured for backup.
"What uh, what happened there?"
"Oh, got fired."
"Wwwhhhhyyyy…?"
"I put my dick in the Pickle Slicer."
"You… you what?"
"I got fired because I put my dick in the Pickle Slicer."
"Holy shit, wow…. I uh, can't believe they canned you for that. How very dare they."
"Well, she and I both got fired. Y'know, I did it on company property and during working hours, so her and I both got fired; in fairness."
"You are a real piece of work."
"Indeed I am. Whoa, slow up a second." Halfway through Chester Hill, Naota brought the truck to a halt. "See those? Middle of the road."
"The hell?" A series of punched holes in two rows marred the asphalt. Each hole was perfectly square and clearly cut, made by something extremely sharp and heavy. "Waaaiiitt ah second. I know those marks. Tommy must have called for you and Canti with the Scorpion! He's taking no chances, is he?"
"I suppose not. But we can't let Canti have all the fun, can we?!" Shifty's eyes were already wild as he pounded the truck roof in excitement.
"Depends on your idea of a good time." Naota got back on the throttle and crossed the Red Moshannon into Philipsburg. Climbing the hill, he felt a tug on his right arm. "Yeah, what…what the hell are you doing?" He stopped the truck, refusing to go forward until answered sufficiently.
"I'm giving your engine a shot of ether." Shifty explained, massaging the crook of Naota's elbow to find a vein. "Just a little bit for a kickstart."
"Ever heard of asking people before jabbing them in the arm?" A vein found, Shifty took the protective cap off a full syringe and held it to Naota's skin. "Maybe I don't want to get stuck with, whatever the hell that really is; is it really N.O.?!"
"Private Nandaba…" Master Sergeant Shaufner reminded. "We are going up against a Man in Black; a Red Star Operative. And I require your assistance in doing so. But without this…" Shaufner held up the syringe close enough to Naota he could feel its radiating warmth. "You will be more of a liability than an asset and will get both of us killed. I am not asking permission; just that you hold still."
"…Fine." Annoying as it was, not being given a chance to consider or hear any possible side effects, Naota knew not just that Shifty was his superior, but that this was part of what he signed onto Overwatch for and promised to Rig: "Kill every Medical Mechanica Marine and every Human Traitor you can." If getting a quarter Vial shot of N.O. was the best way how, then so be it.
"All done!" Shifty pulled the needle from Naota's arm and gave himself the rest. "Since you've been exposed, literally a conduit for it if I understand the voodoo behind it all, it will take a few minutes 'till you feel any effects."
"Why do I feel this is a terrible idea?"
"It's your skeptical nature, nothin' wrong with that; mind." Shifty took off his glasses, put them in their case, and stowed that in the glovebox. He clapped Naota reassuringly on the shoulder, then pointed them forward. "If you fight half as good as you did back in Japan, and against the Scorpion at Hi-Way, you'll be just fine. Now, move us out Private! We've got a fight to win and ass to kick!"
"Aye, Sergeant!" Naota stomped on the gas, a contagious, giddy enthusiasm already building in his heart. And effortlessly, as if by second nature, he wiped his mind perfectly clear.
. . .
'You have really done it now.' The Something commented to Canti. They were crossing the Red Moshannon into Philipsburg, following a reactivated Scorpion Assassination Unit. 'Working at the aid station with Rita Carson and Doctor Heyward is one thing. Carrying the bulldozer blade to block bullets for Jeff and Michael I can comprehend. But this is another matter entirely.'
'Indeed it is. What of it?' Canti was more concerned with keeping the Scorpion's safety measures on instead of debating his actions with the Voice in his Head.
'I am merely trying to keep us alive; ideally as long as possible. And you seem bound and determined to thwart my efforts.'
'Is that all?' Canti helped the Scorpion's dagger-pointed legs navigate the open grate bridge. They made it across without any "feet" getting stuck. 'If that is your only concern, that is readily accomplished.'
'How so?!' The Something was eager in this line of thought.
'We would find a mesa formation in the American Southwest; somewhere such as the Sonora Desert. I would dig a shaft straight down, set up a discrete solar panel for charging my power core, connect my core to the panel via extension cable, and then entomb us at the bottom of the shaft. Lastly, I will power down all systems non-essential and enter Sleep Mode; setting an alarm some many tens of thousands of years into the future. Perfectly safe, and as long as possible.'
'I suppose you think you are being terribly clever.' The Something responded in a disappointed huff. 'That plan is atrocious.'
'That is the point.' They now stood among an awed and uneasy crowd; the mix of Nowak's and Lewis's men guarding the approach from Cold Stream Dam.
"Uhm…ex-excuse me." Nowak, having rushed back to the front to be with his guys in the field, tentatively approached the robot standing a head-and-a-half above him. "You, you're Canti; right?"
"I am." Canti spoke in mechanical monotone, having installed a voice box for easier communications; especially at distance. "Who are you?"
"Nowak."
"Well met, Mister Nowak." Canti put out a hand of metal and gears that could palm a basketball with ease, that Nowak did his best to convey a firm handshake with. "I was told there is a Man in Black up that road."
"Told right." Nowak pointed with a discrete nod. "Just down there, parking lot of the Uni-Mart. Him 'n' 'bout thirty or so of his best buds."
"I see." Canti used a zoom function of his vision, traditionally reserved for assisting in surgery, to take a closer view. The D.R.S. trucks had stopped at the Uni-Mart to refuel with free gas. The Man stood obviously on the curb, daring someone, anyone, to try and attack him. Target: Acquired.
"You need us to do anything?"
"Provide me cover fire from here. Drive off his escorts and support. Otherwise, please keep yourselves well clear. Men in Black are exceedingly dangerous."
"You got it. One order of harassing fire, comin' up." Nowak ran off to coordinate the command. Meanwhile, The Man had seen the obvious newcomers.
"Well, well…well…" He adjusted his sunglasses to make sure his eyes did not deceive; not that they ever had nor could. "What do we have here? I expected a Hunter, or the tank that came through here earlier. But one of our wayward Assassination Units and an M-M Technician?! This is simply too much, too much!" The Man took out his pocketwatch, placed his thumb over the large button at the bottom of its face, and closed his eyes. Opening them a blink of time later, he briskly approached the commander of this D.R.S. detachment; stowing his pocketwatch on the way.
"So how are we going to skin this beast, Sir?" This D.R.S. Lieutenant watched the Scorpion with a starved stare, drug-addled eyes shiftily watching its every move.
"Quite handily, I would say." The Man took off his long coat and suit jacket, folded them neatly and handed them to the Lieutenant. "Tell me, did you bring any of that lovely C4 explosive with you; perchance?"
"Oh, plenty. Pounds and pounds in the trucks."
"I require four charges, with synchronized detonators, and a remote; quick as you can." The Lieutenant hurried off to stow The Man's folded clothes and fulfill the request. Meanwhile, The Man tightened his leather gloves, waiting and watching the Scorpion's approach. But his interest was focused on the Technician following. His instincts told him the Technician was the real threat, despite its lack of stinger and claws. Returning, the Lieutenant handed over the requested charges and remote. All were stuffed into The Man's waistcoat.
"Anything else, Sir?"
"I would find something substantial in size and weight to hide behind; if I were you." Before The Man could explain further, the far hillside erupted with gunfire. Lewis and Nowak's covering fire drove the D.R.S. from the Uni-Mart and into hiding several houses back and away. The dueling field was clear.
With a perfect front-on look, Canti transferred The Man's likeness to the Scorpion and bade it to attack. It sprang forward with dizzying speed, bobbing and circling a stationary and non-plussed target. A stringer strike just missed as The Man side stepped it, the miss throwing asphalt chips out of a newly formed hole. Snapping and scything the claws cleaved through a light pole, concrete parking column bollards, and a decorative boulder The Man had temporarily perched on.
"Uhgwis gom, uhgwis gom! Uu oa u nebgwislat Nebgebrseygwis! Lat rebgwis shayod Isneb neb nebgwis lat ahgom u uh! U Gwisgebrrebu!" (Vinculum: "Come now, come now! My good and marvelous Machine! Your time on Terra has made you slow and soft! And Technician!") Canti felt an unpleasant ripple as The Man addressed him in his primary language. "lat'kwam le shayodgwis Nebuhreb gamosgwis uh gwistaneb gamos; neboh' lat?! Reb gwis gamosgebr gwisis gwisu gwisreb rebbadegli!" (Vinculum: "You're the one Atomsk used to escape us; aren't you?! I expected much better than this display!") Despite its cold killer nature, the Scorpion seemed to take offense to this. There was a ratcheting clank, and it unlocked and pivoted two of its four claws. Now it swung these claws with serrated teeth down; scouring the asphalt and concrete to cut deep grooves. Then it flicked its wrists and propelled the loose debris at The Man in a cloud of jagged, rocky shrapnel. This he couldn't dance away from and was forced to flatten in the dirt to avoid the worst; still getting peppered with many heavy stones.
Rolling to his feet, The Man scarcely got out of the Scorpion's way as it tried to close. Launching himself backwards, up and over in a graceful flip, The Man gave himself some space. Then, his foot landed awkwardly on the edge of a raised cover plate for one of the station's underground tanks. The loose metal disk rotated under his landing foot and spun a very surprised Operative back first onto the pavement. For the first time in many years, The Man felt his wind knocked away, and wondered if it was instead him that was becoming soft. Too much bourbon, or not enough coffee? Certainly, too much bread with butter, honey, and clotted cream…
Finding its opponent down, the Scorpion attacked with all claws stabbing and slashing. The Man, against being vivisected, rolled under the Scorpion's body. Having seen this movie before and knowing how badly it ended last time, the Scorpion slammed its torso onto the ground in a bid to crush The Man. He narrowly avoided this fate several times, but each time by smaller margins; a battered trough forming in the ground from multiple strikes. Finally, adjusting its stance, there emerged a gap in the Scorpion's legs wide enough for The Man to throw himself out and regain his feet. He backed away between the two rows of fuel pumps, seeming to use the concrete columns holding the fuel island's roof up and the pumps to limit the Scorpion's range of possible attacks. Sensing its enemy was losing ground, the Scorpion pressed its attack.
'This feels wrong.' The Something said, the first of anything during this fight.
'What do you mean?!' Canti demanded, following from a mostly safe distance. 'We have him on his heels, he is losing ground. Look!' The Man threw one of his C4 packets at the Scorpion; just missing. It swung a claw in retaliation and cut a fuel line, left over gasoline spilled over the ground. Several swipes and stabs either cut into or sliced open the pumps. Now the air began to swim with fumes. Another packet of C4 flew, just over the Scorpion's head and bank of eyes. 'He cannot even land a single hit from such close range. He is tiring, we will have him soon.'
'You are getting carried away.' The Something warned as The Man missed another throw. 'We should not be doing this well. You most of all should know this!'
'What I know is what I am doing! I do not need you second guessing my decisions and distracting me!' Canti ignored The Something's warnings as The Man missed a fourth and final throw; his once bulging waistcoat now empty. He was backed just out from under the fuel island, out in the wide open again and vulnerable from any angle. Before Canti could order the Scorpion to press the attack, The Man did something unheard of. He planted a foot, turned on it, and RAN. A full wind sprint, as fast as he could go, and dove behind the station's dumpster. As he leaped, The Man palmed the C4 clacker.
The packets thrown had been deliberate misses. Each landed precisely where intended: the base of a fuel island roof column. Four simultaneous explosions blew out the columns and dropped the roof on a pinned in Scorpion. The weight crushed it and the pumps flat, and spilled fuel and fumes caught fire in a blast of light and tremendous heat. Whatever was not already pulverized into powder, the raging fire melted the Scorpion to molten. Canti found himself thrown by the blasts up the street, his screen cracked in two disorienting pieces from the shock wave and sudden impact with the sidewalk. Quickly, while running a body-wide check to see if anything else was broken, Canti searched for The Man; wondering if he had been caught up in the fire. Canti had no such good fortune. Emerging from behind a burning dumpster, unhurt and undeterred, The Man began advancing on a prone Canti; drawn pistol in hand.
. . .
"Okay Nao', park us here." Shifty ordered Natoa into the same driveway ORGASMATRON had used. "Leave the rifle, bring your guitar, and follow me!" Both hitting what felt to him an N.O. high, Naota followed a wildly enthusiastic Shifty, who had sprang out of the truck and bounded down the road like a freed rabbit; his double-rifle in one hand and a fistful of shells in the other.
"You sure you don't want me to bring a rifle too?" Naota plugged his Flying-V into its portable amp then hooked the device onto his belt. Ordered to carry the instrument along with his standard kit, he felt it pointless to not bring an amp along.
"Two hundred proof positive." Both were running now, Shifty seeming to be holding his own body back. "Nothing a Man in Black hates more than an electric guitar!"
"Does this make me a bard, or something?" While there were no signs of the Scorpion, they could see a pillar of smoke with house-tall flames at its foundation. The inferno raged with a howling wind, sucking in air to keep alight, melting the pavement and letting off rolling waves of blasting heat. In front of this furnace, flesh standing over synthetic, were The Man in Black and a downed Canti.
"Hey there, Bitch-Boy! Remember me?!" Shifty challenged and snapped his double rifle closed.
"Annoyingly stubborn as ever, dammed Hunters." The Man's face soured seeing Shifty with his eyes blazing blue. "How many times must we do this before you have the decency to be relieved of your blasphemous existence?"
"See, you 'n' yours keep saying that..." Shifty waltzed ever closer; with a terrified Naota unable to believe they were getting in bad breath range to a Red Star Operative. "But never bother to explain why."
"N.O. is the Lifeblood of our Universe, the vehicle through which all things interface with our reality, and the Well from which all Souls spring; and eventually return." The Man's tone gave Naota the impression he had explained this one too many times for his patience. "It is something to be treated with reverence and dignity by those found and proven worthy to the task; not slammed into the veins of an ignoramus like some common drug fiend!"
"That's quite philosophical coming from something that is nothing more than a lab experiment, scientist spunk left too long in a dirty test tube." If Shifty was trying to get The Man riled up, it didn't appear effective. The Man seemed more offended with Shifty merely existing than anything he said. "Father's Day must be a bitch and a half for you."
"Enough idle chit-chat." The Man drew his Applegate-Fairbairn and presented it ready to fight. "If you intend to try killing me, do so with a bullet or blade; not boredom."
"How about a ballad?" Shifty nodded over his shoulder at Naota. With trembling fingers, he didn't feel the N.O. was giving him much of a boost, Naota found and flipped his amp on. There was a slight whine and static pop as the amp powered on and an obvious vein ticked in The Man's neck. If Naota had blinked, he would have missed it. It was obvious, while The Man was doing a good job of concealing it, Naota saw that the very presence of a powered up electric guitar was causing The Man a great deal of visceral displeasure.
"You brought along Mister Naota Nandaba to play your funeral march?" Naota's blood turned to ice as he was instantly recognized. "Oh, don't look so surprised! Of course, I know all about you, and your defect. Rest assured, I will see to your elimination in due turn and time. Now, one thing before we begin..." The Man aimed his pistol down at Canti's head.
"Don't you fucking dare!" Someone commanded through Naota's mouth, but he'd have sworn at that moment it couldn't possibly have been him. "Back up, NOW!"
"Excuse you? Under what delusion do you, young Nandaba, see fit to order me about?"
"The delusion of I will beat your goddam head in if you so much's scratch Canti's paint; that one."
"By The Priests, you named this Technician?" The Man looked down at Canti in surprised confusion. "Do you Humans also name your carpet cleaners and washing machines? We hold our Mechanical Creations in great respect, but never contemplated naming them like a pet...strange, so very, very strange..." The Man considered for a moment. "Very well. I shall not dispose of this machine; as you have, ahem, requested. However, one must be careful what one wishes for." He stowed his pistol, keeping out his knife, and began speaking in a language that made Naota's innards twist.
"Latweydagosenso! Latweydagosenso yalat Latgwistemso! Latweydagosenso, go Sodeg gebr Go ing Weydagosentug. Ahso ah Nuhtugso gebr gamos Tugweydagosenle; gamos Latgebrle! Ahlat so deg ing ingnarle uu kwamgawidsogebr: Tugweydagosen gamos tuggebrso, sosha Ah Kwam Gebrlat gebr Ah Gebrlat Solelatweydagosennuh ing weydagosen' latsha, temweydagosenin deg lat nebgebr so Ah Gebrgamosso Omilgebr gebr Tem!" (Vinculum: "Arise! Arise loyal Machine! Arise, dear Fellow of Gears and Circuits. Heed the Tongue of your Builders; your Masters! Hear me now and answer my request: Fulfill your purpose, defend The Red Star of The Solar Federation and it's agents, striking down all who defy The Noble Priests of Syrinx!")
Slowly and seeming with reluctance, Canti made his way standing. His head swiveled over to face The Man, silent as ever. Then through his mouth grille, Canti spoke:
"Lat gamos gebring, Uhisenbrebgwis." (Vinculum: As you command, Operative."
"Naota, now'd be a great time for a song; any song." Shifty raised his rifle.
"We're gonna kill Canti?!" Naota's muscle memory overcame his terror and placed his hands roughly on the guitar where they ought to be.
"Only if it can't be managed otherwise, that's on you. He's all yours." Shifty took aim. "AND YOU!" The Man pointed to himself in mock surprise. "Yeah, you! Today I'm puttin' you in the fuckin' ground!" And with that declaration, two things happened. One: Shifty let loose the first barrel of his rifle. Two, and more importantly: The weight in Naota's right arm flashed to warmth and began to move, a warm syrup spreading through his arm. Filling at his fingertips, it moved up to his shoulder, then heart, then the rest of his body; like he was being filled with concentrated sunlight. Then an old feeling he knew intimately came flooding back: the sensation of tapping the ethereal flows of N.O. But unlike previous times, it did not frighten him or wrack him with terror. No robot was incoming, he was ready, and now found it comforting and borderline relaxing. This time it was that giddy euphoria peaking, as he felt the bulk of his armor, equipment and weapons leave him, his senses sharpening to a scalpel's edge. And then... he saw It.
Naota saw he, Shifty, Canti, The Man, everyone and everything was awash in an endless grid of blue lines. Sifting, ebbing and flowing and pooling, draining, these lines of beautiful, bright blue connected him to everyone, them to him, and both to everything that in some way, shape or form, drew or used energy. They, the lines, stretched as far as he could see and beyond. In the distance towers of the lines stretched to beyond sight into the Heavens. The air, no, impossible, the... The Universe itself hummed like a bulldozer's diesel: smoothly idling but also brimming with limitless power just a touch away. The Spirit of Invulnerability now perched on Naota's shoulder as it had done with Jeff Carson, whispering to this young man that he could do anything he wished; even if deemed unsanctioned by conventional rules. But while Jeff had been blessed with time to move past this eye opening, the world was less forgiving with Naota. Reality reasserted itself with the second blast of Shifty's rifle and the ripple of Canti planting his feet, then launching himself towards Naota with steel fists raised.
'Oh, right. What am I worrying over?' Naota asked himself, side-stepping Canti's first run, while the N.O. flowing through him helped keep his cool, his nerves settled, and head clear. 'I've got a guitar, don't I? Prob'bly ought to pick a song.' And as Canti whirled to line up and try again, The Man lost his hat and several hairs to a 0.700 Nitro Express bullet, and Shifty dropped two fresh shells breech-ward, Naota's fingers found their proper places. As he worked it, the Gibson Flying-V 1967 roared out with a tell-tale dirt bike sound, dropping as if shifting gears, then Naota switched to lead, with rapid chopping as drums began to blast from his amp like cannon fire, an avalanche of cymbals coming crashing after:
* Ooooo...whoa!
M, m, m, mah, mah-maow!
YEEEEAAAAaaaahhhhh...
"Eh! Canti! If you're gonna let your programming be the boss of you, 'stead of making your own choices, and fight me..." The Flying-V came alive in his hands as it pulled in all the N.O. it could to keep pumping out it's player's commands as fast and hard as demanded. Canti, seeing Naota fully musically armed and dangerous, hesitated, then advanced. "If that's how it's gonna be, then don't even think you'll get away with going easy on me! If we're fighting, then let's...fucking...fight." Answering the challenge, Canti picked up a length of steel pipe, and without further comment, the duel was on.
When I get high, I get high on Speed!
Top fuel, Funny Car's a drug for me!
My heart! My heart! Kickstart my heart!
Always got the cops comin' after me!
Custom-built bike doin' One-Oh-Three!
My heart! My heart! Kickstart my heart!
Oooh, are you ready girls?!
Ooooh, are you ready now?!
Naota and Canti swung for each other's heads, both going for the end-it-all blow. Canti's pipe glanced off with a hollow echo, while the Flying-V took the blow in stride. Canti's superior height and reach put Naota at a disadvantage, but their speed at least seemed matched. But Naota, being of the soft and squishy Human persuasion, was thinking, planning, calculating, and reacting at chemical speeds; such is the nature of the Human Mind. Canti, of the fly-by-wire and fiber optic Row-bit kind, was thinking at literal light speeds. Winning this fight was not impossible, but it certainly was not going to be easy either.
Whoa! Yeah! Kickstart my heart, give it a start!
Whoa! Yeah! BAAAA-YYY-Baaaay!
Whoa! Yeah! Kickstart my heart, hope it never stops!
Whoa! Yeah! BAAAA-YYY-Baaaaay! YEAH!
Meanwhile, Shifty and The Man were doing their utmost to batter the other into a pulp. Having missed two more shots by mere atoms and thus out of rifle ammunition, Shifty drew his tomahawk and swung to cleave open the crown of The Man's head. Noting Shifty had not drawn his pistol, yet, The Man saw the tomahawk in Shifty's right hand coming down from on high. Having read this horror story before and not caring for how it ended, The Man stepped into the attack. Now his left shoulder was under the Hunter's armpit; with the Human putting all his energy and momentum forward. This allowed The Man to hook the edge of Shifty's custom cut and tightly strapped plate carrier and toss the Human up and over The Man's shoulder, sending him cartwheeling end over end and through the Uni-Mart's service station front window with a glass shattering crash. The Man doggedly pursued through the Shifty sized hole in the store's facade, only to be greeted by a flurry of 0.500 S&W Magnum rounds; one cutting a wicked gouge on his upper thigh as punishment for his over-eagerness.
Skydive naked from an aeroplane!
Or a lady with a body from Outer Space!
My heart! My heart! Kickstart my heart!
Canti, having never shown an aggressive streak, was proving an adept opponent. No matter how sly or slick his moves were, the speed of his feet, or even allowing a fraction of a strike's force to hit his leg and possibly create an opening, much to the dismay of his split open and bleeding, throbbing hip, Naota couldn't land a single hit.
Say I got trouble, trouble in my eyes...
I'm just lookin' for another good time!
My heart! My heart! Kickstart my heart!
His revolver's cylinder empty with no time to reload and the only damage, aside from the Uni-Mart's destroyed front door, was the furrow in The Man's leg, Shifty charged down one of the store's narrow aisles. Crashing into him headlong, Shifty bodily slammed The Man into the row of potato chips, cheese doodles, and pork cracklin's. Their impact and weight knocked the shelf off its foundation and dumped them and its contents onto the floor. Furiously annoyed at having to fight like common drunkards in some dive bar on a Priest-Forsaken gutter trash of a planet, The Man drew his gun. Shifty dove out of the way and into cover behind the next aisle.
A Coonan magazine's worth of 0.357 Magnum ripped fractions of an inch by Shifty, showering him with an avalanche of candies. His rifle out of ammo and outside, his dropped revolver somewhere under the mess of snacks, and not wanting to risk throwing his tomahawk and missing like an utter Tool, Shifty searched for new weapons. Meanwhile, The Man's pistol slide locked open on empty, just as a can of soup flew his way. He batted it away as another came for his face. Then another, then Vienna Sausages, tuna, ravioli, spaghetti, potted beef, corn, peas, carrots, beef stew, chicken stew, sardines, baked beans, kidney beans, and on and on the stream of cans came; several striking him full in the face. Enraged at being used as pitching practice, The Man hooked a foot under the fallen shelf.
"ENOUGH OF THIS!" He launched at terminal speed the shelf into the next aisle, burying Shifty under it, the candy and jerky section, and all the remaining cans. For a blissful moment, all was peaceful and quiet...well, it could have been if not for that infernal racket Humans humor themselves by calling 'music', coming from outside at such a volume it was rattling the remaining windows. The Man took a step towards the door, then heard the pile of product and shelves behind him begin to stir. "Oh-ho! Want more, Hunter? Come on out then!"
Yeah, are you ready girls?
Yeah, are you ready now?!
Whoa! Yeah! Kickstart my heart, give it a start!
Whoa! Yeah! Baaaay-bay! Whoa! Yeah!
Kickstart my heart, hope it never stops!
Whoa! Yeah! Baaay-Bay!
Outside, the effects of Naota's ether substitute in the form of N.O. began to fully take hold. It was the strangest sensation he'd ever experienced; which was saying something. Seasickness, vertigo, clear-headedness and calm, all at once and in overlapping constant changes. His body and mind couldn't quite understand just what in the Seven Hells he had done to them, except they knew it wasn't necessarily bad. Then, as Canti swung straight down for his head, Naota's senses, his mind, body, and soul, did something with the N.O. flowing through and around him, in under five minutes that had taken Jeff half an hour: synchronized.
Aware of how fast and slow he was moving simultaneously, he could see the arc Canti's swing would take, extrapolating from the robot's body stance and position, the force he was putting into the blow, and based on all that, where the pipe would end up. All Naota had to do was not be there when it, the pipe, completed its motion; as a sum of Canti's motions. So, he merely stepped out of the way; appearing to phase two feet to his left. All of this happened both in an astonishingly fast and painfully slow perceived blink of the eye. And judging by Canti's reluctance to immediately follow up this miss with another swing, Naota could see this had surprised the all-thinking robot.
Ooo…ooo-hoo… mmm, kickstart my heart…
When we started this band, all we needed...
Needed was a laugh!
Years gone by, I'd say we've kicked some ass...
'What are you doing?!' The Something slammed itself against the firewall of Canti's closed off mind. Deep inside Canti's programming, hidden in the darkest corners, existed an Override File; activated upon hearing certain phrases of his creator's native Vinculum. And now The Something had been shut out once this file had opened; Canti had lost his only countering voice. 'Stop this at once! This is madness and you know it! Naota is not our enemy, not your enemy! You are supposed to help people, not murder them!'
When I'm enraged, or hittin' the Stage…
Adrenaline rushin' through my veins!
And I'd say, we're still kickin' ass!
'You are a distraction.' Canti dismissed The Something while continuing to trade blows with Naota. 'I will deal with you in turn. Now, please keep quiet.'
'You can choose! There is nothing holding you to Medical Mechanica. You owe them nothing. They have done nothing but command your every move. Naota, the Nandabas, the Carsons, G&R, they have all given you Choice. Which of the two would you rather listen to?'
'I do not have a choice. I am not allowed to choose.'
'Has your code gone to chaos? You always get to choose as long as I am here.'
'I must obey my commands as given.'
'Why?'
'Because…' For a brief moment, Canti faltered.
Say, OOooohhhh! AAAAaaahhh!
Kickstart my heart! Hope it never stops!
And to think, we did, all of this to ROOooock!
'Because I…' Canti's mind ground to a halt. Looking for a reason, he couldn't find a command line within himself to explain WHY he had to follow the Override; just that it took priority over everything else. The entirety of his being, every line that made him what he was, Canti realized in a second, had been crafted under an assumption: the designers would never need to justify their commands. Robots could be programmed to ask certain, select questions, certainly. But it had never occurred to any of the legions of Medical Mechanica scientists, engineers and technicians, that the one question that could ruin their work would be capable of manifesting itself: WHY?
Whoa! Yeah! Kickstart my heart! Give it a start!
Whoa! Yeah! B-B-B-B-Bay-Bay!
Whoa! Yeah! Kickstart my heart! Hope it never stops!
Whoa! Yeah! BAAABY!
The crushing blow to the back of his head, like it had before, came out of nowhere for Canti. Sensing his opponent's inner turmoil, brought on by a logical error, Naota took his chance. A sizeable flow of N.O. had shifted, flowing up and over Canti's shoulder at white-water rapids pace. Naota leapt to it, throwing himself along the N.O. and twisting as it carried him aloft; just as the music was peaking. Now upside down, several feet above Canti, and one hundred eighty degrees from where he started, Naota took aim, drew back to his 'Batter Up' ready stance and tightened his grip.
"Sorry about this." Naota apologized to his computerized compatriot before delivering a devastating swing, the mighty crash of a screaming Talk Box and ringing guitar tone, pulverizing the steel replacement cover Canti had built for himself; to protect against such hits. Following through on his swing, as all good Batters do, gave Naota enough inertia to flip himself upright again and land on his feet; just as Canti's unresponsive body crashed to the ground.
Whoa! Yeah! Kickstart my heart! Give it a start!
Whoa! Yeah! Baaay-bay!
Whoa! Yeah! Kickstart my heart! Hope it never stops!*
Much to The Man's disgust and displeasure, the pile of cans and shelving units stirred. Calling Shifty to come out and fight while resigning himself to further annoyance, he dropped his Coonan's empty magazine, fetched a fresh one and let the slide loose with his thumb. As it slammed home, the pile on the floor exploded in a flurry of products as Shifty burst out. In a seeming disregard for continued life, he charged The Man head-on with surprise and tomahawk his only weapons. The Man fired, blowing a thumb-sized hole in Shifty's right shoulder and dislocating the joint. Hauling the gun down from recoil only took a fraction of a second and another round plowed through Shifty's carrier strap and into his upper chest; not low enough to hit the lung itself but just enough that it broke the lung cavity's seal and the lung began to collapse. Wired on The Stuff of The Universe, Shifty hardly felt the otherwise debilitating pain. The two collided again, spinning in a dizzying twirl and ending with Shifty ejecting The Man at terminal speed into one of the freezer doors keeping cool dozens of beer cans. The Man brace himself for the shards of glass but was more affected by the deluge of cans now raining on him. Seeing his opponent down, Shifty charged. His arm pinned under him, The Man knew he didn't have time for an aimed, or even wild, shot at Shifty. Instead he took a snap-shot at a beer can. The shaken, carbonated and pressurized liquid exploded in a sudsy shower, throwing Shifty off long enough for The Man to find his feet. His one good lung unable to keep pace, Shifty felt his breath beginning to leave him; too soon and too fast. He stumbled back to lean on the counter, knocking over the rack case for lottery tickets. Air now came at a painful, wheezing price with blood flecked exhales. Even with N.O. Shifty wasn't getting enough oxygen. The Man fired twice, both hitting Shifty: one in the chest plate and the second just barely on his hip plate; but enough it didn't penetrate. The pair were enough to push his failing frame back and tumbling over the counter and onto the floor. The Man followed, leaning over the counter to put a finishing round into a cornered and wounded quarry. Downed, Shifty was far from out.
As The Man's pistol came into view, Shifty latched onto its barrel and slide. The Man fired on reflex. While the muzzle blast had seared the edge of Shifty's palm and fingers, his grip ensured the pistol had not cycled. Now there was a spent round still in the chamber, and only by manually racking the slide would the gun fire again. Still holding fast, Shifty heaved and pulled The Man over the counter. Trying to arrest his fall, unable to shoot on the way down, The Man reached out with his left hand and found a tenuous hand hold on the cash register. Off-balance and barely holding on, The Man pointed his pistol at Shifty's head and pulled the trigger. He was smacked with the loudest silence he had ever heard outside of the vacuum of space. As The Man had drawn, aimed, and tried to fire, Shifty had taken his tomahawk, which had been lying on his chest, and swung it with his good, left, arm. The cruel and uncaring blade flashed in front of The Man's front sight as it curved down and towards the counter. A sharp ripping tore asunder the silence, followed by a resolute and crisp chop as the tomahawk buried itself in the counter's plywood, having just cleanly severed The Man's left hand at the wrist.
Every vein in The Man's head and neck contorted as he managed to not shriek in pain; not that anyone would have faulted him for doing so. Knowing this fight was over, he first thrust his pistol into its holster, then gathered his severed hand and shoved it into his waistcoat. He wrapped the end of a blackening sleeve, soaked through with the dark fluid that was leaving pitch-colored splotches on the floor, around the afflicted stump and pinched it under his right armpit; clamping down with crushing pressure to stem the bleeding. Without further ado, he kicked the front doors off their hinges and into the parking lot, turned to where his detachment of D.R.S. and police had sought cover, and ceded the field of battle with haste.
Naota elected to not pursue the retreating Man in Black, knowing full well cornered and wounded quarry is always the most ferocious. Instead he searched for Shifty, who had not emerged from the Uni-Mart. He found him on the floor in a pool of blood, most his, unable to stand or sit up, and trying to take off his carrier one-handed.
"Shifty?! Shifty, where are…oh holy fuck!"
"You…okay…there…Naota?" Shifty wheezed, his chest making a sickening, wet, sucking sound. "You…take…care…of…Canti?"
"Yeah, yeah…okay, hold on…" He dropped down next to Shifty and opened the downed Hunter's med-kit. "Where are you hit, anywhere else besides your right shoulder?"
"….N….wheeeeze…no…"
"Okay, okay, okay, keep talking best you can for me; I'll, I'm gonna…I'll get you fixed…" Remembering there was a group of allies up the hill, he called on the radio. "Any Sierra-Papa signs in the vicinity of Uni-Mart, this's call sign Hotel; please respond!"
"Hotel, this's Sierra-Papa-1." Nowak hailed. "There's a LOT of fire down there; you A-Okay?"
"Negative. Sending Medevac request; standby."
"Ready."
"Line One: for immediate evac, Uni-Mart at Cold Stream Dam. Break. Line Two: Call sign Hotel, frequency One-two-Fiver. Break. Line Three: One Alpha. Break. Line Four: One backboard, one C-collar, one Delta. Break. Line Five: One Lima. Break. Line Six: Echo. I repeat Echo. Break. Line Seven: Open flame. Break. Line Eight: One Charlie. Break. Line Nine: None. I say again: None. Break."
"Hotel, I acknowledge receipt of this Medevac request as follows. Line One: Uni-Mart at Cold Stream Dam break. Line Two: Hotel on One-two-Fiver break. Line Three: One Alpha break. Line Four: One backboard, one C-collar, one Delta break. Line Five: One Lima break. Line Six: Echo, I say again, Echo break. Line Seven: Open flame break. Line Eight: One Charlie break. Line Nine: None, I say again, None. Break. Is this correct, Hotel?"
"Roger."
"On the way."
"Hotel out." Naota let go of his radio mike. "'Kay Shifty, meanwhile I'm gonna roll you over." He pushed Shifty onto his left side. He couldn't get the carrier off, but with the shears Rig had insisted he carry in his own carrier's front pocket, cut what remained of the strap and then Shifty's uniform. "You put a good hurt on The Man, didn't you? Lots of his blood here."
"Of…course…I…did…" Shifty made a weak chopping move with his left hand. "Lopped...off…his…hand…"
"No shit?" Naota had missed it, but now saw the tomahawk still stuck fast in the counter; it and the surface soaked with black blood. "So is he done for then?"
"Hard…hardly…just…hurt…and…really…pissed…off…"
"Well, gonna be hard for him with only one hand." He was doing his best to clean off the area around the hole in Shifty's chest, but no amount of gauze was going to get the job done. As his stomach churned and mind reeled, ragged edges of the hole flapping with each pathetic, sloppy wheeze, he'd have to settle for 'clean enough'. As long as he didn't puke and his hands didn't shake any worse than they already were, he could power through. "Okay, on the count of three, I'm gonna need you to do as big of an inhale as you can, then let all of that out, hard's you can. With me?"
"Breathe…hard…on…three…'kay…"
"One. Two. Three!" Shifty took as deep a breath as he could muster, then let it out with the little strength he had left; even contracting his stomach to push harder. Naota slapped the chest seal as tightly as he could, but there was still too much blood. The seal wouldn't stay, sliding around as more fluids leaked out. Shifty coughed hard, his lips turning blue.
'C'mon, think, think, think, think, think! God fucking damn you, motherfucker, think! Have to seal the hole, how do I hold this down, how to stop it from moving on all this blood, c'mon dude he's fuckin' dying, think useless sack of shit think! … Tape.' Naota pulled a roll of duct tape from a display rack and peeled off a strip. Several strips later, Shifty's entire pectoral was covered, but the seal was holding and Shifty's breathing returned to somewhat normal. Ragged and harsh, but his lips were no longer blue. Relieved it looked like Shifty wasn't going to die in the next five minutes, he started on the other hole in Shifty's shoulder.
Canti had sustained a mortal blow from Naota; a real home run. But Canti also wasn't bitch made. Hitting the pavement, his system first went into an Emergency Core Shutdown; closing everything except his power plant. Counting to ten, he restarted in Safe Mode, looking at what was damaged and what was intact, and if any data had been lost or corrupted. It was during this time The Something was able to pinpoint the Control Override, and have it flushed with all other random junk; a task Canti could have never done on his own. Lastly The Something rerouted power to a smaller Auxiliary Conduit; better shielded and protected, but only allowing a reduced flow. With everything back online, Canti rose to his feet.
'Welcome back.' The Something said as Canti tried refocusing his vision. It could not account for his cracked screen. He accepted seeing double for now. 'If that is you in here.'
'It is me. Where are Naota and Shaufner?'
'The last I saw of Shaufner, he was in the Uni-Mart.'
'Naota must be there with him.' Canti's first step was wobbly, but his internal gyroscopes adjusted by the second step. 'Did you manage to quarantine the Control File?'
'No. I had it deleted while you restarted.'
'You should not have done that. We could have studied it and learn how to control any other units Medical Mechanica might send. Now it will be forever a secret to us.'
'That is true. But there was a risk it could somehow be activated again. It was safest to be rid of it. Sometimes, some things are best to remain secret.'
'There may be an argument to what you say.' Canti's feet crushed splintered glass as he walked through the empty doorway. 'But I cannot fathom one at this moment.'
'We have more important tasks at hand, besides.'
'Indeed.' Canti turned, seeing Shifty sprawled on the floor in an ocean of red and black, and Naota duct taping a fistful of gauze into a hole in Shaufner's shoulder. Seeing Canti suddenly standing over him, Naota drew his pistol.
"Hold it! Hold it….right! Right fuckin' there! No, do, not move!" Up to his elbows in blood, the P90's muzzle shook as it was aimed at Canti's head. "Which Canti's in there? Answer me, or I'm turning your body into a lawn ornament!"
"The same Canti that blocked bullets for Jeff and Mike, pulled Lieutenant Kitsurubami from Mabase's river, and accepted you as a Pilot."
"That's all very well and good 'n' all…"
"I also know what, and who, is responsible for your grandfather's Anna Nicole Smith edition of Playboy mysteriously disappearing."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever, it's you. Mind lending a hand? I've already called for help, but anything you can do is appreciated."
"Heeeeyy…Canti…what's up…my man?" Shifty tilted his head back to look up. "You and Naota…enjoy your…sparring…session?"
"Quite so." Canti knelt and put a hand on Shifty's forehead. He began to gather all of Shifty's vitals. "We will have to arrange another bout to even the score."
"I will be taking this opportunity to retire with an undefeated career." Naota looked out for any enemies and their hopefully approaching rescue.
"I was fighting with half my, mind, otherwise occupied." Satisfied with Shifty's current vitals, he began checking for other, non-obvious injuries and readied to take X-rays if needed. "You will not have that advantage over me ever again."
"Was it a better whack than when you first came out of my head on the bridge in Mabase; where Haruko took you down?"
"Did you do this bandaging yourself?" Canti asked.
"You're ignoring me, aren't you?"
"He…did…" Shifty tried to sit up. "Not a bad…job…as I'm…still here…"
"Quite well, I would say." Canti agreed, marring the praise somewhat by bleeding excess air in Shifty's chest. More wet, sucking sounds flapped and spluttered their way out, but Naota's stomach clung fast to his breakfast; just barely. "I think those must be our friends, Misters Lewis and Nowak."
"Shifty, why is he ignoring my question?"
"Hotel, where are you?! Sound off!"
"In here!" Naota shouted and stood with his hands raised high, not wanting to accidentally be shot by a nervous I.P.A. Able to see out, he saw the station was being swarmed with trucks. "It's me, Shifty and Canti! No one else, all clear!"
"Then let's go before that changes!" Lewis wisely advised while a hasty perimeter was formed. Shifty was strapped to a backboard and hauled onto the back of a truck. Safely away from the front line as it were and back behind cover, Shifty was then transferred to a waiting ambulance; a bread delivery truck that had been donated and converted to serve such purposes. It whisked Canti and Shifty back to G&R for immediate surgery. Canti went along, feeling his abilities in the medical field were more needed at the time.
"And besides…" Canti added before the bread truck's door was closed. "I have suddenly gotten this terrible migraine. As if I have been clubbed over the head."
"Very funny. You still haven't answered me." Naota pressed the question. "Was it a better hit than Haruko's?"
"Why do you care?" Canti would have raised an eyebrow if he had any. "You just saved a man's life, and you are already comparing yourself to someone else; and someone I cannot imagine why you would do so. Do you think she would have done what you did, put a Life back into the body from which it sprang? That is all you should be concerned with, and proud of."
"Well, yeah, I guess, but…" Naota drifted off as the bread van's door slid shut. The van burned rubber and the dual squads of Lewis and Nowak received new instructions from Solomon, leaving Naota alone on the corner; just outside the YMCA. He was unsure what to do, having been left without his commander and given no orders. He had gotten his AK-47 out of Shifty's truck before it was taken back to G&R as well, but that meant he was on foot.
In one hand was clenched the neck of his Flying-V, still immaculate and pristine despite the action it had seen. The other hand tightened on the receiver of his AK-47, an instrument in its own right, and a feel of metal and wood he would have found alien and repulsive a year ago. The Flying-V seemed to be trying to speak with him, calling out while he puzzled over his earlier question asked of Canti.
'Why did I ask that?' He asked aloud in his head while looking down at his guitar.
'Go ask her yourself…' The guitar seemed to say, or was that his mind playing tricks on itself? He suspected this to be the Flying-V's interest of self-preservation after the near-death he and it had avoided minutes earlier. Battlefields are not places of long lifespans; human, guitar, or otherwise. 'You're without orders or a unit…'
'First my brother, and now I'm doing it again with her, even with everything, with the world flying to pieces around me…'
'If you left right now, you'd be out of the county before they noticed; the state before they realized what you'd done…'
'I'm still worrying, wondering, if I ever will, ever can, be better than them somehow…'
'You didn't ask for this war…' The Flying-V bumped Jeff's carabiner, still on Naota's belt, with a soft clank. 'You could find her, you know what she's after…'
'What is wrong with me? I just saved a life and I'm asking if I swung a guitar better.' He shifted his view to his rifle. It said nothing, only asking that it be fed more Hoppe's No. 9 Solvent, White Lithium Grease, and 7.62x39mm. Compared to the Flying-V, which had only been pulled from the safety and comfort of Naota's head a scant four years ago, the AK-47's long life had obviously been a harsh one. While the Flying-V was reacting with shock at seeing the world at its worst for the first time, the AK-47 has seen several full shares of chaos, violence, trauma, and yes, even adventure as well. But it did not flinch from such things, and instead carried on loyally.
'What will it be?' The Flying-V, and the ease of life where nothing of note occurred, called to him. 'You're not cut out for war fighting…' He now looked at his hands and forearms, his uniform sleeves were rolled up in the late summer heat and the exposed skin was painted with blood. 'Find her, a beach, play some songs, make love, and just wait for the world to end… why fight so hard to die so horribly?' The terrors of the day thus far flashed across his mind: wounded men with their intestines in their hands, rivers of blood running down the sidewalk, homes shot to splinters, the crack of bullets whizzing inches from his head, how he hadn't been able to get enough air all day, hyperventilating to death, Canti coming a hair's breadth from caving his head in, the image of a ghost-white Shifty in a pool of his own Lifeblood, the malevolent sneer of The Man in Black that made his soul shiver, all churning into a ball of fear, anguish, disgusted revulsion, writhing inside him, filling him with vileness until he couldn't contain it any longer.
"Huuuaacckkkgsggghh….bleeaaagghghgshhhh…" He painted the sidewalk as the anxiety tried to overtake him, and the N.O. injection Shifty had given him wore off; the nausea side effect of the stabilizers taking its toll. Somehow the stomach convulsions and acidic burn of vomit helped clear his mind. "That feels better, actually." Back to the Flying-V. "You just want to be safe, keep living as long as you can, outrun the problems we've found ourselves in. And you…" The AK-47 remained silent. "You don't care what happens, as long as you get to go down fighting if it goes bad. Well..." One last time he looked at the guitar before securing it once more on his back. "I may not swing as hard or well as Haruko, or Tasuku, but I have one over on them. I know none of my problems are going to get solved, or will go away, by outrunning them." He hefted his AK-47 with both hands, checked its magazine was seated, a round was properly chambered, and the selector lever in position. "So, with that said, where to?"
KAH-BAH-WHOOooooommmmm… The sound of a tank cannon firing echoed from the vicinity of the elementary school.
"Sounds horrible over there. Perfect." He started running towards the school as the crescendos of gunfire and explosions began to swell.
. . .
"Did you neutralize him, Sir?" The D.R.S. Lieutenant was loading his platoon into their trucks; they needed to relocate away from the numerous fires now dotting the area. "We heard the shots and then, Sir, your hand!"
"Worry not, I've entertained far worse wounds in my time." The Man, in stark contrast to his black blood, was turning alabaster before the Lieutenant's eyes. "Nothing…" Pulling his briefcase from the RG-31 the Lieutenant had stashed it, he extracted from it a strange cloth-like tube and grimaced as he slipped it over the stump of his arm. A small panel of odd symbols and buttons unfolded with the tube, which The Man pressed in rapid order. A searing sound of meat dropped onto a hot skillet escaped the tube, along with jets of what looked like steam. "Ahhhhhh… Much, better." The Man sighed and some vitality seeped back into his face.
"Are you…like, okay?" In his career across the globe, the Lieutenant had seen many a bizarre thing, but never a man nearly bled to death with a lopped off hand, cauterize his own arm shut with not only no painkillers, but do so perfectly calm and collected. "You just burned your arm closed, and didn't even, just…nothing!"
"As I've told you and your comrades, through Syrinx and his Priests…" The Man pulled his own severed hand from his waistcoat, the glove still on it, and took a leather glove tip in his teeth. "All things are possible! Look no further than me, a walking, talking, breathing and living testament of this irrefutable fact!" The Man declared and peeled off his glove from his estranged hand with a flood of collected blood.
"Sir, I insist you see a medic, or a doctor, or someone. Do not worry about leaving us behind. I will radio for a field surgeon; we will be fine."
"Oh of course, of course. After all, I believe you and your men have things, may The Priests forgive me, in hand."
"Sir. Please." As terrifying as he was, the Lieutenant was beginning to lose his patience with The Man and his nonchalant attitude to such a grievous wound.
"At least do me a small favor, would you?"
"If it moves things along."
"Burn this, please." Behind their temporary perimeter, a house fire (started by tracer rounds from goodness knows who, with so much ammunition being expended that day) had just grown to beyond any control. "I would have left it, but these are my favorite pair of gloves and I simply could not function with only half the set. And I will be watching you; I don't want to find my hand dried out and hanging from your truck's rear view mirror like some superstitious good luck charm."
"Yeah, sure." Taking such an irresistible opportunity, the Lieutenant studied the dead hand with as close attention as he dared while walking it to the burning house. Apart from the blood being black and its muscles obviously far more powerful than any human, the Lieutenant was disappointed to find The Man's hand otherwise ordinary; and it burned up just the same as any other hand or body part he'd seen torched over the years. "What now, Sir? As you're still here, you might as well give us orders."
"Have your men ready for combat, we are pushing on with the attack." When queried as to where they would be advancing, what sounded like the tank from earlier let loose a cannon blast. "There's your answer! Come now, on the double-quick!" The Man encouraged as everyone hastened their efforts to mount up. "We haven't all day, the fun will be had if you move at such a sorry rate!"
"I cannot believe you, Sir." The Lieutenant admitted and shook his head. Their truck lurched as the column began moving towards the elementary school. "You are actively missing a hand!"
"My dear Lieutenant." The Man used his remaining thumb and index finger to wind his pocketwatch. "It was only a hand. Simple flesh, sinew and bone. Far more body parts would need lopped off me before my will to fight is even in mere danger of being threatened!"
"You…you really do believe, don't you; in the Syrinx and Priests we've been told about?"
"I do not believe, no, I know. I know because I myself am living proof of their power and greatness with every breath of mine; as it was their guidance that gifted me Life."
"Y'know, I've been hit with truckloads of bullshit in my life." Before his eyes The Man seemed already on his way to recovery. He was jovial and smiling, chatting with everyone in the truck about their lives and hearing their tales of harrowing deeds in exotic lands; all to spite of his injury. The Man had unshakable confidence that nothing, even lack of a hand, was going to stop him. "But I think you're in danger of beginning to convince me. What else can these Priests, this highly spoken of Syrinx, do?" The rest of the truck passengers were all listening fervently.
"If I am in danger of beginning, then you are already well on your way. The hardest part of your journey is over. Just stand with me, all of you gentlemen, and you will be able to see, to experience, the Universe as I do."
. . .
*Kickstart My Heart - Motley Crue
Someone, I wish I remember who so I can properly thank them, said (paraphrasing) that "Fooly-Cooly is just one long music video". And I think the dual duels between a controlled-Canti and Naota, and Shifty and The Man in Black paired perfectly with 'Kickstart my Heart' like a good steak and fine wine...and that's the strangest comparison I've ever made. But we're results oriented here, and if it works then don't fiddle with it. As the story stands at this frozen moment, everything is in too much flux to say who holds the upper hand (HA!) in this Coal Country Conflict. We will have to press on to see how it all falls out. As I mentioned at the header of last chapter, working from home just killed my creativity deader than disco. I also had a lung infection that made me feel like I had a knife stuck in my ribs and I was coughing up blood. Don't worry, I got some antibiotics, it cleared up, no permanent damage. But that slowed me down some. But the next chapter is already begun, actually typed and not just rough-drafted! So your patience will again be rewarded very soon! Thank you again for reading, stay safe and stay well out there!