Too quickly for me to see anything but a blur, Travis punched the guy in the face—if you could call a beaked helmet a face.
His punch hit the right cheek, denting it, and twisting the beak. The helmet made a crunching noise, and bent backward. It didn’t seem to bend further back than a human head could, but it didn’t seem to be capable of bending forward anymore.
Not that that mattered. Travis’ punch had knocked the guy backward. Continue reading A Kind of Small Crow: Part 9
I couldn’t see it happen, but at least one of the bullets hit. Vaughn fell, or maybe more accurately, lost control.
He flipped over a few times, dropping dangerously low. I would have lost track of him if it weren’t for the sonar built in to the stealth suit’s helmet.
His black costume blended into the night, but the helmet outlined his body, showing him as he nearly hit Grand Lake Marina Supplies. I say “nearly hit” because he didn’t.
He swerved right just as he was about to hit the “G” in Grand Lake.
Unfortunately, it was also an idea that I had to use quickly instead of thinking through the implications.
The last time I’d pointed the guitar’s explosive end at a guy in powered armor, it had nearly killed him. Only Alex’s ability to heal had kept the man from bleeding out.
Alex wasn’t anywhere around here. I definitely wasn’t going to have time to fly to California to pick him up.
When the laser hit, Rook’s armor glowed, reflecting the light, but not entirely. In fact, not for very long at all.
The laser drilled through, and light came out the other side.
Rook screamed, and I stopped firing, backing up, pulling my shoulder away from the claw that had pierced almost all the way to my skin.
Rook took a step toward me, but nearly fell over, his leg wobbling.
I tried to think of the next step.
I grabbed the handle, and the door opened even as something in the back of my head suggested that he’d have expected us to run out the back.
Unwilling to randomly spray whatever was out there with the guitar’s laser, I aimed a wide angle sonic blast out the door with the speakers on both arms. Set at a frequency that generally set electronics to vibrate, the sonics had the potential to be devastating—provided we were facing rook-shaped robots.
If there were people out there, the best I could hope for was nuking their iPhone.
I hung sideways, and it wasn’t very comfortable. The stealth suit had hardened where it hit the seat belt and the right armrest, so nothing hurt.
I turned my head to check how Courtney was doing. I’d heard her hit the door, but she moved, and illuminated by the dashboard lights, I could see her turn her head upward toward me.
“Are you okay?” She asked. Continue reading A Kind of Small Crow: Part 4
Lightning hit the leader again, and while his body shook, the paralysis gun dropped out of his hand, falling to the roof with a clunk.
Part of me hoped it still worked by the the time I could move. I planned to grab it. A more practical side of my mind hoped it had been destroyed in the first lightning strike.
Near me, Cassie stood up, entering the edges of the helmet’s peripheral vision. She didn’t waste any time. Once she was on her feet, she ran straight at the leader as he bent over to grab the gun.
He didn’t get up easily. He pushed himself up one hand at a time, swaying as he made it up on two legs.
Taking an experimental step, he spied something on the roof, and bent over to get it—the automatic pistol. When he came up the second time, he seemed stronger. He stood up normally.
Quickly, he pointed the gun past me—probably at Vaughn.
This time the wind came up as a roaring, howling blast that drew the man into the air, and threw him off the building. Continue reading Settling In: Part 4
I tried to dive to the right, but I’d already lost control of my legs.
I crumpled, and fell to the roof of the building. I fell sideways, and then rolled halfway on to my back—”halfway” because I was mostly on my arm and right side of my back, and partly on my rocketpack. It wouldn’t let me roll all the way there.
The other guy—the only guy with an exoskeleton still standing—had pulled out a paralysis gun too. Continue reading Settling In: Part 3
Marcus followed them, lengthening his legs as he jumped, and stretching his arms to grab the ledge on the other side. His leap reminded me of a frog somehow.
If it weren’t night, I could have blamed it on his green costume. I only recognized him because I knew he was coming, and because no normal human could stretch like that.
Frog-like or not, the way his shape briefly blocked the stars made me think of Batman cartoons—which ironically brought me back to reality. Continue reading Settling In: Part 2