I didn’t want to hurt Mateo, but I also didn’t want to discover that he’d figured out Amy’s trick for ignoring armor. The question then became how to stop him. Lashing out with the full strength of my armor might kill him, but yanking the tentacle out might scramble his brains.
Deciding to go with what I was already trying anyway, I directed my mental energies toward the tentacles. Knowing that for Lee, they weren’t directed anywhere so much as everywhere around him. Of course, it could be that he didn’t try to direct them. Continue reading Motor City Intern: Part 50→
Sarcasm aside, the one good thing about being completely surrounded by your enemies is that your enemies are easy to find. At the same time, if you want to survive, it’s good to have a strategy that’s better thought out than, “kill everybody.”
Talking over the comm, I said, “Let’s help Blue Mask with the xosk.”
Off to the side and above me, Amy glanced over at the vampires in the middle of the room and then over to where Mateo and Vincent fought off tentacles. “Is that what it’s called? Yes. Let’s free up Blue Mask to fight the normal vampires and maybe open up a window.” Continue reading Motor City Intern: Part 49→
I realized just now that bearing in mind where I am at writing this and how long it will take, I’m not going to finish early enough for me to get a decent night’s sleep.
Jumping over the tentacles, Vincent dove into the room, but not before drawing two curved knives which he used to chop at the tentacles that tried to grab him even as he landed.
Knives were his weapon, I remembered. I’d always wondered why, but this didn’t seem the time to ask.
It wasn’t as if he was wrong. The V4 armor wasn’t made with stealth in mind. I felt lucky that Book Tower had high ceilings. Otherwise, I’d be bumping my helmet against the ceiling constantly.
Amy didn’t make any noise that I noticed. Given that it appeared out of nowhere when she transformed, I had no idea what it was made of. Mystery magic stuff was my best guess so far–with the distinct possibility that it was the physical manifestation of the remains of souls that the Bloodmaidens had consumed over the millennia of their service to Amy’s family’s empire.
Leaning back against the wall, Mateo closed his eyes. His lips may have moved, but if they did, I didn’t hear anything he said.
I did feel something though, a warm wind—except bearing in mind that I was covered by armor, it was impossible for me to feel anything of the kind. I had a suspicion of what it might be, but I didn’t have time or any realistic direction to explore it.
In front of me, Mateo pushed himself away from the wall, still walking stiffly for the first two steps, but normally by the third. He took a deep breath and smiled, “Ready?” Continue reading Motor City Intern: Part 46→
I didn’t. With the new suit acting at the speed of my thought (where it could), I might be faster than normal people, but Nanosecond was faster than I was.
I’d been hoping her name was just marketing.
She ran at me, moving too quickly for me to see much more than a blur of long hair and fists. Her hands hit the suit in a string of blows that reminded me of the sound of rain but weren’t doing much of anything to my armor. Continue reading Motor City Intern: Part 45→
“I…” Checking the armor’s status report, I learned that while the rocket fuel systems had been fully repaired, I had less fuel than I thought.
I hadn’t designed it with as much fuel as the Rocket suit to begin with, so losing some made more of a dent in the total supply. Did I have enough to fly up ten floors, maybe a little more?
We turned the corner on the stairwell, our steps echoing, and came across the bodies. Hers were easy to tell from mine. Mine didn’t move, but he stared as we stepped over them, some caught mid-frown or mid-smile. Hers were pale and breathing slowly as they lay there in their black uniforms, bulging where armor protected them.
It wasn’t hard to keep up with her. The biggest issue was remembering to keep my head down so that I didn’t hit the ceiling. It’d be a shame to trash one of the paintings above the landings. Destroying a window was one thing. Glass could be replaced, but the paintings couldn’t.
“What’s with the extra-large suit?” Amy asked over the comm.
