Mistrunner 3 - Chapter 15 - A Challenge (Patreon)

Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if Mira and I just settled down somewhere. I can’t help but think neither of us would be particularly happy. I need my projects, and she needs adventure. Without those distractions, I’m sure we’d get tired of one another pretty quickly. Or maybe not. I don’t know, and I’m terrified of the day I might get my answer.

Patrick Ward

I continued to fire upon the giant combat bot at a rate of one round per second, which was as quickly as I could use Empowered Shot. Each shot tore into the huge robot’s fuselage, melting the metal and sending it staggering. From experience, I knew that each one of those shots was enough to tear a hole in a tank; with my modifiers and the extra oomph added by the ability, my sniper rifle could rival some artillery for damage.

But when I fired the last round in the magazine, I got a nasty surprise.

The bot straightened to its full height, and even without flaring Observation, I could see almost liquid streams of metal flowing back together as the thing repaired itself. I growled, “Shit. Pick, it’s got regenerating armor.”

He swore over our Secure Connection, then said, “Cannon’s online. Firing.”

Just then, a huge explosion tore across the sky, disintegrating the clouds to reveal the Leviathan, thousands of feet in the air. A massive blob of liquid blue Mist descended from its cannon, making a beeline toward the recovering bot. Without skipping a beat, it raised one of its arms just in time to intercept the cannon’s issue. Another explosion roared into being, kicking up a cloud of billowing dust.

“Direct hit,” Patrick announced.

But I wasn’t optimistic about the viability of the Leviathan’s cannon. In most situations, it was more than enough to do the job. This combat bot was not an ordinary opponent, though, and I suspected the cannon would be insufficient to the task of defeating it. Fortunately, I had a lot more firepower at my disposal, and I knew exactly how to beat the thing.

The dust settled, and sure enough, the combat bot was entirely unscathed. The blue sheen of a Mist shield formed a canopy above its raised arm, and though it flickered a bit, it seemed strong enough to take a dozen such shots.

That was the problem with the cannon, really. It could pack quite a punch, but the projectile – a ball of roiling Mist – was slow-moving and, for capable enemies, easily dodged. Luckily, most of my weapons had no such issues.

While Patrick brought the cannon to bear, I’d reloaded the Pulsar. So, with a fresh magazine, I kept firing. This time, the bot didn’t just stand there and take it. Instead, the moment I unloaded that first round, it started scanning the area for my location. I still had Camouflage active – as always – but it was a poor screen when I was steadily firing upon the bot, and it didn’t take long before it zeroed in on my location.

By that point, I’d already fired most of the magazine at the thing, so I shouted into the Secure Connection, “Relocating!”

Stowing my weapon, I sprang to my feet and sprinted away. It was just in time, too, because only a second later, the shallow cliff exploded into an eruption of rocky shrapnel as the sound of gunfire filled the air. I glanced back to see that the bot’s arms had transformed into a pair of heavy machine guns, which it was steadily firing at my previous location.

I kept going, and the moment I was clear, I embraced Stealthand slowed to a light jog as I slipped behind a dune. The bot continued to fire, but for the moment, I was safe.

“Is it following yet?” I asked.

“Still sitting still,” Patrick responded. “Want me to hit it again.”

“No. The ship’s too big of a target. If it thinks you’re the primary threat, it’ll bring out the big guns,” I said.

And nobody wanted that.

The specifications I’d read had designated the combat bot as a Fully-Adaptable Combat System – or a FACS – and it was entirely capable of destroying an entire city if it was pushed far enough. Obviously, I wanted to avoid that, so my goal was to slowly drain its energy reserves until I could get close enough to disable its systems via Misthack. If I went in too early, its Mistwall would adapt to my intrusion and lock me out. If I went too late, it would calculate that, with its energy reserves getting low, it needed to end the threat in the most efficient way possible.

Which would mean blowing everything up, including me and everything in a three-mile radius.

Yeah – not exactly a good outcome for anyone.

I relayed my plan to Patrick, and he said, “Walking a fine line there.”

“What’s new?” I asked, settling into a new position. This time, I’d chosen to leave the Pulsar in my arsenal implant. It was reasonably effective, but I’d run out of ammunition before accomplishing my goal. Instead, I needed something bigger. Something that could rapidly drain those reserves.

I needed the BMAP.

As my fingers closed around the familiar grip, I checked that it was loaded with the appropriate ammunition. After confirming that it held explosive rounds – my favorite, if I’m honest – I crested the dune and took aim. Then, I used Shatter Shot.  The ability was similar to Empowered Shotin that it enhanced a single discharge from an appropriate weapon – in this case, the BMAP – but it differed in the manner of enhancement. Empowered Shot simply charged a round with Mist, making it more powerful. Shatter Shot was a little more complicated.

Once three seconds – the charge time for Shatter Shot – had passed, I squeezed the trigger. The BMAP discharged the bulky round with a thump, and I restarted the process. As I did, I watched the miniature artillery shell arc through the air, a sense of anticipation dancing in my mind. When the round came within twenty feet of the target, it seemed to suddenly split into a half-dozen copies, and when they hit, they did so with seven identical explosions that not only tore a massive hole in the FACS’ torso, but also sent the huge combat bot flying backwards to land on its back.

That was the beauty of Shatter Shot. For a bit of Mist and a slight charge time, I could effectively turn one round into a tight grouping of seven, and though each individual copy didn’t pack quite the same punch as the original, it was enough that I judged the overall effect to be five times more impactful than if I hadn’t used the ability. That kind of force multiplier – especially with my modifiers – was enormous.

The moment the next round was charged, I fired again, and to similar results.

Idly, I was aware of the chatter coming across the crew’s communication channel. Someone chastised Rex to focus on what was important instead of ogling the pretty explosions, and Askar continued giving instructions, but none of it was important to me. I continued my bombardment until the drum went empty, and the moment I fired that last shot, I sprinted away to relocate.

And it was a good thing, too, because only a few seconds later, I saw a beam of pure Mist descend from the sky and obliterate the dune.  It didn’t just explode. Instead, it melted the sand into a molten slurry that, when it cooled, would no doubt become glass. Thankfully, I was already a few hundred feet away and reloading my BMAP with another cannister.

I repeated the same pattern three more times until I’d used all the appropriate ammunition in my arsenal implant. I had a few drums loaded with non-lethal rounds meant to disperse various gasses, and I had a couple of drums that would blanket an entire area in a raging inferno. But those weren’t really useful against a cold, unfeeling combat bot like the FACS.

While I did that, the crew continued to plunder the convoy. I still had no idea what Askar and the others had targeted, but at that moment, I didn’t really care. I’d already established – at least in my own mind – that I could handle them if it came down to it, so I wasn’t terribly worried about them.

The combat bot was a completely different story.

It had taken everything I could throw at it – and it was enough ordnance to turn a sizable city into rubble – without skipping a beat. If I stood still for longer than the time it took to discharge an entire drum of the BMAP’s ammunition, that sky beam would descend upon my location and roast me. I still didn’t know where it had come from, and even Patrick couldn’t find its origin, claiming that it looked like it came from the upper atmosphere. The Leviathancould have gone up there, but the quarantine meant that, without significant preparation, that would result in censure from the system.

Which meant we were at the bot’s mercy. For now.

“How much power does this stupid thing have?” I growled into the Secure Connection. “Are the others finished?”

“Just about,” answered Patrick. “They’ve got one more truck.”

“Alright. When they’re done, I want you to swoop in and get them out,” I said. “I’ll meet you at location three as soon as I’m done with this thing.”

“But –”

“It’s the only way,” I interrupted, anticipating that he didn’t want to leave me behind. “The bot’s going to hit you as soon as you come into range. We both know that. And it has enough firepower to tear through the ship’s shields in a second. I’ll keep it distracted, then go in for the kill when it’s depowered enough. Once it’s done, I’ll head out on the Cutter. In this terrain, I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

Patrick wanted to argue, but in combat, we both acknowledged that he would follow my lead. Sure, I made plenty of mistakes, but it was important that one of us had the final say. Anything else, and indecision would get us both killed. Due to my experience and training, I was the obvious choice. By contrast, on the ship, he was in charge.

It was a good system, but it did rankle on both our nerves. Still, it was necessary, so we had long since accepted it.

“Fine. I’ll relay that to the others,” he said.

“And Pick?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep them locked in the cargo bay until I get there,” I said.

“At least we can agree on that,” he responded. Then, he added, “Stay safe.”

“Don’t I always?”

“No. No, you do not.”

I left the conversation hanging there and sprinted to my next location. I’d tried leading the FACS away from the battlefield, but it had stubbornly resisted. If I’d continued, it would have turned on the others and destroyed them.

Setting up a hundred yards away, I re-summoned my Pulsar and took aim. I only got one shot off before it found me, and I had to scramble down the dune to avoid a barrage of gunfire that preceded yet another beam from the sky. I was close enough to feel the uncomfortable heat as I scampered away, using Stealth to mask my progress.

It didn’t help.

Something had changed. The bot had adapted to my tactics, and though it couldn’t home in on my location with perfect accuracy, the usefulness of Stealth had begun to decrease with every passing second. I ran like my life depended on it, zigging and zagging to make myself a less predictable target. Every now and then, I’d get a free couple of seconds to take aim, use Empowered Shot, and fire my Pulsar, but it grew increasingly infrequent the longer the battle continued.

Fortunately, only a couple of minutes later, Patrick announced that the others had completed their heist, and he was descending to pick them up.

That was my cue.

I dismissed the sniper rifle and summoned the Dragon. Propping it on my shoulder, I continued to sprint as I used Explosive Shot on the entire store of ammunition in the weapon’s spatially enhanced magazine. Mist drained out of me in a moment, leaving only dregs behind, but that was expected. Once the ability took hold, I took aim and let the Dragon loose.

The weapon roared as I continued to move, hip-firing at a rate of two-thousand rounds per minute. Most of those rounds found their way to the combat bot, predictably ripping it to shreds. Liquified metal splattered onto the ground as it stumbled from the sheer force of impact.

“Go!” I screamed at Patrick.

In the distance, I saw the Leviathan drop like a rock, its descent so fast that it looked like a falling meteor. However, in a well-practiced maneuver, Patrick slammed on the Mist thrusters, slowing the huge ship to a dead stop only a yard or two above the ground. Then, he settled it down, and I saw a few trucks racing forward loaded with crates. The crew didn’t bother unloading the trucks. Instead, they simply raced up the ship’s ramp and into the cargo bay. In seconds, the Leviathan rocketed back into the sky, and just in time, too, because that’s when my ammunition ran dry.

I quickly stowed the Dragon and took stock of the situation. The FACS had been reduced to a pile of molten slag, but already, I could see it starting to pull itself together. The regenerative capabilities of that metal were absolutely off the charts, and I figured it must be swimming in Mist. How could the gnomes even afford to deploy such a weapon in the first place? Why would they bother? It was almost assuredly expensive enough to bankrupt a host of small towns, and it made the expenditure Patrick and I had made to keep the Leviathan in the air look like spare credits.

Even as I raced across the battlefield, leaping over the huge divots the Dragon had left in the terrain, the combat bot continued to remold itself. I poured on the speed, using Balance sparingly to keep from tipping over into the craters. My Mist was running low, but there was nothing to be done. I needed to get closer.

Foot by foot, I covered the ground, and bit by bit, the bot reformed. By the time I drew within range, it had taken shape, and I found myself staring down the barrel of an enormous cannon. It ignited with a puff of Mist and fired an instant later.

On instinct, I used Teleport. My dwindling supply of Mist drained away, and faster than I could process the change, I found myself atop the combat bot’s shoulders.

“Well, that wasn’t what I was aiming for,” I muttered via the Secure Connection. I reached into my arsenal implant and retrieved a Mist booster. A moment later, I jabbed it into my hip, and a small supply of Mist came flooding into my system. I let out a sigh of relief.

Patrick, in a panicked voice, shouted, “What? What happened? Are you okay? I’m turning back!”

“No. Don’t,” I said, already activating Misthack and diving into the machine’s defenses. Its Mistwall was complex, but after I had spent hundreds – if not thousands – of hours training the ability against tougher defenses than it possessed, I found myself more than up to the task. Especially since it had drained a good portion of its available power reserves rebuilding itself over and over again. Still, I was on the clock; my Teleport had confused the thing, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before it noticed me. By that point, I needed to have finished it off. “I got this.”

Over the next few seconds, one defensive emplacement toppled after another until, soon enough, the system was spread out before me. And it was glorious, complex, and sophisticated, and I had no issues with saying that I’d never seen anything like it. Whoever had built the thing had really accomplished something extraordinary.

It was a shame I was going to tear it all down.

First, I used Surge, which would enhance the next Ghost I uploaded. Once that was done, I looked at the menu on my interface:

Misthack Successful. Options:

· Reboot System

· Overcharge

· Disable Cybernetics

· Upload Ghost

I was tempted to simply reset or overcharge the system, but given the sophistication of its layout, I suspected that it wouldn’t take long for the FACS to recover. Thankfully, I had an arsenal full of Ghosts at my disposal. I selected the final option, which opened a second menu:

Please Select Deck:

· Assassination

· Infiltration

· Robot Disposal

· Mass Murder

· Annoyances

· Wildcards

Soon after the fall of Nova City, I’d discovered a problem with relying heavily on Ghosts. Basically, the system only allowed me to equip, at most, five options at any given time. For a few months, I’d been distraught – what if I loaded all the wrong Ghosts and didn’t have access to the perfect one for whatever mission I’d found myself on? However, my despair was soon dispelled when I mentioned the issue to Dex, and he’d helped me reconfigure my interface to add another step to the process.

Basically, I had to arrange my Ghosts into pre-made groupings that I’d labeled decks. That allowed me to skate in under the system’s restrictions while giving me access to almost thirty Ghosts. It seemed a bit of a cheat to me, but Dex claimed it was common practice, at least among the few actual {Mistrunners} in the universe. In any case, it had solved my problem.

I selected the third option, Robot Disposal, and I was given five options:

Select Ghost:

· Scramble (XVII)

· Explode (Mk. CXII)

· Melt (Mk. XVI)

· Cascade (Mk. XXIV)

· Drain (Mk. VII)

Looking at the options, I desperately just wanted to blow the thing up. I’d spent far more time working on Explodethan any of the other options, and I knew it was the best-formed Ghost in the deck. However, I didn’t think it was appropriate for the situation. So, I selected the one that would give me a chance to win: Drain.

The Ghost wasn’t complicated, really. It just caused the system to rapidly expend its power stores. For most bots, that was a blend of electricity and Mist, but the FACS was almost entirely powered by Mist, which was one of the reasons it was so potent. I uploaded the Ghost.

Instantly, the thing went wild, rapidly changing shape with every passing second. I held on, but I had to flare Balanceto keep from being thrown aside. Then, a moment later, a beam of light hit the ground about fifty feet away. It was followed by thirty or forty more. Over and over, the waist-thick bars of light slammed into the ground, melting sand and sending molten rock flying into the air. The first had been the closest, but the others were close enough to send the temperature skyrocketing past the realm of discomfort and into painful territory. Without my abilities and high Constitution, my skin would have probably boiled off. As it was, by the time the barrage ceased, I had a few blisters on any bits of exposed skin.

But I was alive.

So was the combat bot, though its erratic movements had become sluggish. I pulled Ferdinand II from his holster at my hip, aimed at the thing’s head, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet tore a huge hole in the robot’s head, but it didn’t seem to notice. Instead, it continued to spin around, firing random shots in every direction.

So, I shot it again.

And again. Over and over, I fired until Ferdinand II was completely spent. Rather than waste more ammunition, I holstered him and yanked my sword from its sheath on my back. Then, I went to work. My attacks weren’t graceful. In fact, they probably had more in common with a lumberjack’s technique. But over the next few minutes, I hacked the thing to pieces. Eventually, it stopped trying to flow back together, and I felt the last of the Mist drain away.

I let out a deep, shuddering breath as the robot collapsed into a pile of half-formed bits of metal.

I’d been in control of the fight the entire time, but if I’d have slipped up even a little bit, it would have ended me. It’d been a while since I’d fought something that strong. Maybe I never had. And it resulted in a feeling that was equal parts excitement, fear, and anticipation.

I ignored it, sliding into the Secure Connection and telling Patrick that I’d finished the thing off. He implored me to collect as much of it as I could, so I dug into the pile of now-scrap metal and found its central processor. After that, I gathered as much of its metallic body as I could fit into my arsenal implant – which must have been a couple of tons, at least – before I heard the sound of hovercars in the distance.

That was my cue to leave.

So, I summoned my Cutter, mounted up, and sped away. As I raced across the desert, I started to prepare myself for the inevitable betrayal coming my way.