Short update. More later on. 
Martin desperately tried to shrug the two undead things off, but they were too tenacious. Finally, Martin managed to break Zapps grip on him, which gave him the needed leverage to wrench free Dukes grip. Martin executed a shoulder throw which sent Duke sailing into Zapp. Once clear of both, Martin fired his Uzi into them, emptying the clip and sending them both back to their eternal rest. Martin ran back to Darla, but before he could reach her prostrate form, his mother and father intervened.
Uh oh, Thorny. Whatcha gonna do now? Looks like Mommy and Daddy do not approve of your new girlfriend! Dawg laughed.
Martin was paralyzed. The twisted, misshapen figures before him were his parents in flesh only. Their spirits had long since gone on to a better place, but still he could not bring himself to attack. His trembling hands would not answer his call. The abominations before him were not so hindered, however. They both released a gout of acid in Martins direction, and despite their aim being faulty due to the damage to their bodies, they managed to hit Martin square in the chest. Stinging, burning bile dug into Martins flesh where it seeped through the cracks in his armor. The searing pain snapped Martin out of his trance, and he numbly drew his fathers shotgun. There was 10 feet between Martin and the twisted parodies of his parents. Martin pointed the weapon, closed his eyes tightly, and pulled the trigger on both barrels. The 12-gauge shot tore the unlife from the things that were his family, and they dropped motionless to the ground. Martin stood unblinking for a long moment. At the end, it was Dawg who snapped him out of his rancor.
Hmmm.. Looks like you forgot about someone, Marty. I guess you dont wuv Darwa as much as she thought you did, Dawg sneered, mimicking a baby-voice.
Martin snapped his gaze on Darlas body as he realized how long she had been unconscious. Martin dashed to her side and began attempting CPR again. Dawg jumped down from his perch and began running toward Martin. The hulk of the rusted-out bus was positioned in such a way that Dawg would have to go around it to get to them, which gave Martin a precious few seconds to revive her. He worked feverishly to get her to breathe, but he could already tell that his effort would likely prove fruitless.
I haven't forgotten about the story, everyone. I haven't had the time to write on it like I would like to, and I have already posted everything I have written ahead. I'll try to get some more written on it and posted as soon as I am able.
As Dawg stepped around the rusted-out bus, Martin stood up from Darlas lifeless body. Yoohoo! Guess whos come to dinner! Dawg called in a singsong voice to Martins back. Tears fell unchecked from Martins cheeks onto Darlas still form. Hed failed her. After all hed gone through, hed failed her. Martin was utterly unresistant when Dawg plowed into him from behind. Dawg laughed like someone possessed as he bull-rushed Martin into the side of the bus. At the last instant before Martins face would have been smashed into the side of the corroded vehicle, the grieving man fought back. Martins legs came up and absorbed the impact against the bus. Dawg managed to get Martin to bend his knees but could shove no further, despite the fact that Dawg had the greater strength. Martin flexed his powerful leg-muscles, straightening his knees. This sent the pair of them sailing across the rubble-strewn floor, to impact into the cinderblock walls of the abandoned warehouse. Dawg, being behind Martin, took the brunt of the impact, leaving a cracked crater in the wall. He dropped his hold on Martin, who simply stood there, staring at Darlas face across the room. Dawg extracted himself from the hole in the wall, and began advancing on Martin again. That wasnt funny, Marty-boy, Dawg growled. Just before Dawg got close enough to Martin to punch him in the back, Martin spun on Dawg, a perfectly-executed back kick announcing his entry into battle with a vicious impact to Dawgs jaw. With Dawgs stone-like skin, the blow did little more than bruise, but it did serve to cause him to step back.
Wow, Thorny. That wasnt bad. However, I am stronger than you, and you know it. Whats more, Dawg said as he pressed a pad in the waist of his black bodysuit, Ive got quite a bit more mobility than you, now. Dawg hovered into the air, and soared high above Martin, laughing maniacally. Martin just stared holes in Dawg, his expression betraying nothing, his voice utterly silent. Whats wrong, Martin? Cat got your tongue? Dawg dove at Martin with his fist outstretched. Martins whipcord muscles snapped into action almost faster than Dawg could follow. In one, fluid motion, Martin grabbed a nearby manhole cover and hurled it with all his might at Dawg like a discus. Dawgs reactions were too slow to avoid the hundred-pound disc, and it struck him head-on in the forehead, tearing a hole in the hood of his suit. Still, Martin simply stood, staring at Dawg. Dawg rubbed at his forehead, noticeably concerned. This wasnt going at all like he planned. Martin was supposed to be a basket-case, crying like a baby. That hurt, Thorne. Im going to kill you, you know, Dawg snarled.
You already did, said Martin. With no warning whatsoever, Martin jumped at Dawg with all his might. Dawg, new to his flight mechanism, had no time to move. Martin plowed into Dawg like a rocket, and wrapped his legs around Dawgs like a vise. Martin reached down to grab the pad that Dawg had pressed to give him the ability of flight. Dawg managed to keep Martins hand from closing around the control, and wrench free of him. He punched Martin full in the face and sent him reeling, plummeting to the floor. Dawg knew he had to stay clear of Martin, for he had already felt his powers slowly fading, even through the small rip in the hood of the suit.
Martin landed hard, but he ignored the pain. He was on his feet in an instant, hurling large chunks of brick, stone, rebar, anything he could lay his hands on at Dawg. Dawg managed to dodge most of them, but as he spun in a circle to avoid a particularly large filing cabinet, he was again met by Martin. This time, when Martin jumped at Dawg, he rotated his body in midair, and met Dawg feet-first. Martins feet connected with Dawgs vulnerable throat with enough force to send Dawg crashing into the concrete ceiling, and plummeting to the floor below. Martin landed lightly on his feet, his powerful musculature absorbing the impact of the landing. Dawg recovered quickly, but not quickly enough to get back into the air before Martin was on him again. This time, Martins iron grip closed around Dawgs control panel and crushed. Sparks flew from the back of the suit, and the acrid stench of burning flesh filled their nostrils as Martin tore the ruined device from Dawgs abdomen. Dawg managed to kick Martin off of him before Martins dampening field drained all of his power.
Nice moves, Marty. You almost had me there, Dawg sneered. He reached down and began hurling debris Martins way. He had to keep outside Martins sphere of influence at all costs. Dawg worked his way back toward the body of the Freakshow creep that had murdered Martins mother. The guy had a revolver, if Dawg could reach it. Whats the matter, Martin? Youve always been full of crap to say. You lose your voice? Martin remained utterly silent as he concentrated on avoiding the makeshift projectiles that Dawg sending his way. Dawg was four feet from the body of the thug with all his attention on the weapon now, when Martin threw a projectile of his own. A piece of the twisted rebar that Dawg had used to bind Darla to the concrete slab came whipping through the air and smacked Dawg in the small of the back. It didnt hurt Dawg much, but in that moment of distraction, Martin sprinted to Dawg, and leapt to where Dawg was trying to reach for. Dawg had just turned his eyes to the gun that was his salvation when a pair of heavy combat boots came down in front of him; one next to the firearm, and one on Dawgs outstretched hand.
OW! Dawg squealed, as Martin reached down to grab Dawg by the front of his jacket. Martin jerked the hood from Dawgs face, drew back his fist, and cracked him right across the nose. Dawg went sailing across the room to hit the wall with a dull thud. Dawg got weakly to his feet, and stared defiantly at Martin. Say something! Dawg spat, his nose broken and running freely with blood. Martin stalked toward Dawg, as he screamed a curse and charged Martin. Martin sidestepped the charge and gave Dawg a ridgehand strike to the throat for his trouble. Dawg flipped head-over-feet and landed facedown in the sharp stones littering the floor. Martin jerked Dawg to his feet by the hair, and gave him a vicious punch to the stomach, which sent him flying once again. This time, Dawg collided with the corner of a wall awkwardly, and hit the floor screaming. My legs! I cant feel my legs! I cant move! I cant feel my arms! Please!!
Martin dug into his pockets, and pulled out a couple of shotgun shells, which he loaded into his fathers antique weapon. He reached the immobile form of his nemesis with a cold, unfeeling look in his eyes. Dawg did his best to face Martin, crying. Please, Martin! I give! I give! Im sorry! Im SO sorry! Please! Martin wasnt listening. He jerked Dawgs head back, and shoved the barrel of his weapon into Dawgs mouth. All he had to do was pull the triggers.
Several yards away, a pair of beautiful, blue eyes regarded Martin with infinite sadness, tears glistening on freckle-kissed cheeks. The Scarlet Sentinel was hoping, praying that he would step away from the dark path he had chosen. Please, Martin. Do the right thing, she whispered to herself. Martins fingers were tightening on the metal triggers that would erase the pathetic, sobbing thug at his feet, along with hopefully all of the pain in Martins heavy heart, when he heard a familiar voice behind him. Martin. Dont do it, the Sentinel said, silently pleading with him.
I still haven't forgotten about the story. Lot of things going on in real life, including vacation. I had about 3 minutes to post this. To everyone still waiting for the conclusion to Martin's story, please just be patient with me a little bit longer. I'll post the last few parts starting next week. I promise.
Martin dropped Dawgs head, and levelled the weapon at the source of the voice, lowering it when he realized who owned it. Leave. This is none of your concern, he growled, moving back toward Dawg.
Martin, you know it is, and you know what I would have to do if you went through with this.
Dont. Threaten. Me.
Martin, you know Im not. I like you. You seem to be a nice person, but youre hurting. The Sentinel looked over to see Darlas motionless body, and tried another tactic. Do you really think your mother and father would want this? Do you think Darla would?
Martin whirled on the Sentinel, eyes blazing. I dont know! he bellowed, why dont we ask them? Oh, THATs right. They ARENT HERE! He punctuated the last two syllables by punching the air violently with his free hand.
She tried again. Martin, please. Youre better than this. Look at him. Martin looked with disgust at the sobbing thing at his feet. Hes beaten. He knows it. You know it. Dont be like him. I heard what you did to the Freaks; how you got the information you needed from them. She shuddered. As of this moment, no charges are being filed against you. Being a hero has it advantages at times, and a couple of people have put in a good word for you. Martin looked directly into the Sentinels eyes and raised an eyebrow. Yes, I was one of them. Davis was the other. Self-defense is one thing, but this.. Martin, hes paralyzed. Not even Dr. Stromberg will be able to help you if you commit cold-blooded murder. That made Martin wince visibly, and she knew he was getting through to him.
Martin, ask yourself. Is he REALLY worth going to jail over? Is that pathetic creature at your feet really worth spending the rest of your natural life behind bars with others just like him?
Martin wrestled with the internal conflict. He really hadnt thought that far ahead. All his life hed resented metas, with their reckless use of their powers, and here he was about to commit the very same act. He was so very angry, and so very alone in the world, but there was a voice in the back of his head telling him this was wrong.
Okay, assuming I let this scum live, what happens?
We drop a penal teleporter on him, he goes to the prison infirmary, and goes to trial, just like everyone else. Thats the way the system works.
Martin stared at Dawgs blubbering form, the twin barrels of his late fathers weapon aimed between Dawgs rapidly-reddening eyes. He though for a long moment, and finally came to a decision. He pocketed his weapon and turned away from Dawg. He walked past the Sentinel, not even looking at her. Thank you, Martin. I knew you were better than this.
Martin had scarcely gone a pace beyond the Sentinel when he stopped, staring at the ground. One thing. Ill go to trial. Ill testify, or whatever. Ill do whatever my civic duty requires of me. Martin turned to face the Sentinel. But if he ever puts foot to ground as a free man
Martin let the threat hang in the air. The Sentinel closed her eyes, and nodded. I understand, she whispered. Martin turned and continued walking. Hed gone about ten feet when the Scarlet Sentinel finally got brave. Martin, she said, would you consider coming to see me some time.. after?
Martin didnt turn around, and took a long time to answer. The Sentinel had just begun to assume he was going to ignore the question when he hissed a single word; maybe, before walking out the door. The telltale roar of Mary Anns engines told he that he had gone. She turned to the crying man on the ground. As she dropped an emergency teleporter onto his prostate form, she spoke to him with not an ounce of sympathy in her voice. I hope you realize how lucky you are. My advice to you is to go to jail for as long as you can. If you two ever cross paths again, I wont be there to save you. As Dawg whimpered Thank you thank you thank you over and over again, his shape faded slowly from view. The Scarlet Sentinel hovered into the air and flew solemnly out the window. Perhaps she could convince Martin to join her, and maybe the relationship would grow into friendship, or even something deeper. Only time would tell.
Martin drove to the hospital where he suspected Dr. Stromberg would be. To his dismay, there were Vanguard vehicles all over the place. The closest he could get to the hospital-proper was a dead end alleyway next door. He looked at the hospital forlornly, longing to know how Dr. Stromberg was doing when a voice spoke from behind him, startling him nearly out of his boots.
He will be fine, Thorne-san. It was Shuriken, fading into view behind him.
How did you know I was here? Martin asked. He waved a hand dismissively. Never mind. I probably wouldnt understand the answer anyhow. Hes going to be fine?
Yes. He was near death for a time, but thanks to the timely intervention of Clarissathat is, the War Witch, his powers were held in check long enough to get him to this facility. He has asked about you.
Can you get me in there?
No, I cannot. There are too many there with the mental fortitude to see through my deceptions. I am powerful, but some of the ones there to pay respects to Dr. Stromberg are more powerful still. Take heart though, my friend. I will relay to him that you have come to see to his well being. Nurse Grey should be here.. ah! Here she is.
Nurse Grey had taken up a position at the edge of the alleyway facing towards the street. She acted as if she was taking a break, and talked with Martin under her breath. Dr. Stromberg is going to be fine. I suppose Shuriken has already told you that. She dropped a large pill bottle in the shadows of a nearby trashcan. That is the entire supply of the drug that allows your powers to remain active while you sleep. Use them sparingly. There are enough there for roughly a year, if you take one a night.
A male voice suddenly began speaking. It was Major Davis. Hello Nurse Grey. Martin shrank back into the shadows, hoping he hadnt yet seen him.
Hello Major, she returned curtly.
What are you doing out here?
Just taking a break. Its been a long day.
Yes. Yes, it has. You havent seen Martin, have you?
Why would you ask that?
No reason. Have you?
If I had, I likely wouldnt tell you.
You know, I am under orders to arrest him, right?
Yes.
And keeping him from me is aiding and abetting. You know that, right?
What are you accusing me of, Major?
Oh, nothing. It just appears that Martin still has some pretty good friends around, even if he thinks he is alone.
That he does. Friends that will fight for him, rather than see him sent unjustly to jail. Now, if youll excuse me, I have work to do. Are you coming? With that, Nurse Grey went back inside.
Major Davis leaned against the wall, facing away from the alley. Martin could see just the edge of Davis elbow from his hiding place. I really am under orders to arrest you if I catch you Martin.
Martin didnt answer.
But then, I havent seen you, either. Have I?
Martin remained silent, but a grin began to cross his face.
Stone is under investigation because of his actions. I am due to testify at a tribunal in two days. You can thank Nurse Grey for that for the most part. Well, her, and the security cameras that recorded your every move at the base. Ill likely face discipline for my inaction in letting you escape. Sometimes, one has to break the rules to do the right thing. Davis turned so that Martin could see his profile, and the grim expression he wore. I hope you got everything done that you wanted to. Ill be back at this alley after the tribunal.
Dawg was number from the neck down. He couldnt move. He hated Martin with everything that he was, but at the same time, he was deathly afraid of him. He knew that if he and Martin ever crossed paths again, the results would not be favorable. The teleporter had deposited him on a metal gurney. He was still disoriented from his trip and things were a bit blurred. Orderlies hovered around him, and he noticed at last that they had locked him down to the gurney with metal clamps across his wrists, ankles, hips, chest, and neck.
He tried to mumble in protest as one of them locked some sort of device to the table that had a rubber-coated bar that fit snugly between his teeth, robbing him of what little movement he had left. He looked questioningly at the orderlies as they filed out, and it was then that he noticed that they each had a Crey Industries insignia on their arms. He was suddenly very afraid again.
Now, my boy. We shall discuss your failure, and why the skinsuit we loaned you did not work. Dawg was able to turn his head a tiny bit toward the voice that was speaking and he spotted the rat-faced man that had presented him with the suit. His greasy hair was plastered to his skull, and the little, wired-rimmed glasses he wore perched on the tip of his pointed nose. Youre probably wondering how you ended up here. Well, let us just say that some associates of ours worked with us in developing a rather expensive way to divert teleporters, given the correct circumstances. Now, shall we get started? Professor von Richter whipped a green cloth off of a nearby table, and Dawg could see the blurred images of the dozens of medical instruments that had been hiding under the cloth reflected in the stainless steel surfaces around him. We shall be spending quite a bit of time together, you and I. But lets get those nerves of yours working again, shall we? He picked up a wicked-looking surgical blade. This is likely to sting. A lot. Dawg understood the purpose of the rod in his teeth as he bit down hard. The professor began emitting his creepy giggle as Dawg began screaming in earnest. Countess Crey nodded at the professor as he made eye contact, and left the room so that von Richter could work in private, and so that she would not have to watch.
Martin met Davis in the same alleyway, this time out in the open. Martin had been cleared of any wrongdoing.
Stone was a Malta spy. He was trying to bring down Vanguard from within, or perhaps seize control of the organization. Ive been authorized by the new head of operations to offer you that position with the group that we talked about.
Martin considered this for a long moment. Martin had his doubts about whether he could work under the same rules that Davis did, even though his time with the ROTC had prepared him for military-style life.
Youd have the help of an old friend, said the Scarlet Sentinel as she dropped lightly to the ground from above. Her dazzling red suit now sported a bright Vanguard emblem on his chest. They asked me to join up after we helped clean out the Rikti, she said with a smile.
I dont know. You people show too much mercy. The scum Ive seen doesnt deserve any.
Martin, I know thats how you feel. Youve sent three of the thugs to the hospital already, and one guy nearly didnt make it. For whatever reason, Dawg didnt show up at the prison infirmary. Were still trying to figure that one out.
Then it sounds like Im batting .250, Martin said with a scowl.
Martin, you cant do this. Youre not judge, jury, and executioner, said Davis darkly.
Martin, those tactics make you no better than the thugs you take down, said the Sentinel.
Tell that to the young woman I helped last night! The three guys I nailed had her pinned to the ground with a knife to her throat. I happened upon her just in time to hear them tell her they had ever intention of cutting her after they were done. What do you think she would have to say about your rules? What about her young daughter who was home waiting for mommy to come home? The scum doesnt play by any rules. Why should we?
Because were better than they are, said Davis.
Ive been on the streets for two days, and already some of the thugs are scared of me. There was a fourth guy in that one group that I sent to the hospital that lit out like a scalded cat because hed heard my name. Can you say the same?
I wouldnt want to. Are you aware that some of the very innocents you save are terrified of you also? You come off as some sort of avenging psycho, said the Sentinel pointedly.
Im doing a job.
Then do it with us. Join us and make a bigger difference. Stop striking at the small timers, and strike back at the ones that fund them. Youre hitting the product, while Vanguard is about taking down the factory.
Martin thought about this. It made sense. Hed heard of heroes that took down thug after thug, and no matter how many they caught, two more seemed to spring up to take their place. Finally he said, okay. Ill try it, but I do things my way.
No, said Major Davis.
Fine. Then we go our separate ways, said Martin as he turned to leave.
Martin, please. Consider what were offering, said the Sentinel.
Martin, you cant be a member of Vanguard and go around committing what amounts to assault and battery, and possibly murder. Think about what youre doing, Davis said with a scowl.
Martin stopped and stared at his own feet for a long moment. He looked Davis in the eye, and said, If I dont like it, I leave.
Fair enough, Davis returned.
Okay. Ill do it. For now.
Excellent. Lets go to Vaguard HQ and get you signed up.
The Scarlet Sentinel threw her arms around Martin and squeezed. He had to dampen her powers just to breathe. This is going to be fun, she said with a giggle.
That had been three years ago.
Vanguard had handed Martin a rulebook and a double handful of police-issue penal teleporters that transported the perp directly to the prison infirmary in a stasis field. Had he had just one of those teleporters within a minute after Darla losing consciousness, she might have been saved, but it was not to be. Martin stuck to the rules like a good hero, but he still had been reprimanded on several occasions about his excessive force. It didnt matter and he knew it, for Martin could wade in where other heroes fell, and hold the line while they recovered. His ability to render the powers of most villains null and void had saved nearly all of Vanguards personnel on countless occasions, including Davis and the Sentinel. Martin and the Scarlet Sentinel grew even closer, and began seeing each other socially on occasion, but Martins first love remained the taking down of metas that abused their gifts. Shoulder to shoulder, Martin and members of Vanguard had faced down Dr. Vahzilok, to whom Martin had owed a special debt, the 5th Column, and even the Malta group.
However, going after the big fish didnt stop Martin from occasionally patrolling the streets, getting his hands dirty, and looking out for the little guy, much like the dark alley he now stands in;
"Oh, lookie, gentlemen, the cyborg began, we got ourselves a hero! He turned to address Martin directly, Theres three of us, and one of you, hero. Even if you win, you get battered and beaten, we go to jail, our boss bails us out, we come back to finish with sweetie-pie there, then a dozen of us come to kill you. What about it, hero? Gonna take us to jail?" the cyborg snarled, raising an arm with an obvious weapon to point at Martin.
Martin reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a cigar. Clenching this in his teeth, he nonchalantly fished a Zippo out of his coat, sparked the lighter deftly, and lit the cigar. The cyborg snickered at him, and his two buddies' laughter drowned out the frightened girl's sobs. Snapping the lighter shut and dropping it back into his pocket, Thorne smiled a smile at the metallic thug that made dark promises.
"No," Thorne hissed and triggered his firearm. The weapon spat teflon bullets that ripped through the thug's armored chest like butter. The cyborg charged Martin, only to feel the power to his synthetic parts sputter and die, as he dropped to the ground motionless at Thorne's feet.
"BOLT! KILL HIM!" the smaller of the two remaining thugs screamed. The taller one leapt into the air, energy crackling and dancing all around his body. Bolt streaked towards Martin Thorne, his fists arcing with energy that promised exquisite pain. 10 feet from Martin, a worried look faded into view on Bolt's face as his energy field suddenly spluttered and died. Martin sidestepped the path of Bolt's now-uncontrolled flight, snapping a viselike grip onto Bolt's trailing ankle as he rocketed past. Using Bolt's considerable momentum, Martin pivoted in a semi-circle, and released his hold on Bolt's ankle. Bolts redirected trajectory slammed him into the side of a brick building with a wet crunch, and he dropped to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. The shrimp of the hapless trio bristled with rage. "You FOOL! Those two were nothing! You face The MAGE!!" Hissing some arcane incantations, a barrier of force shimmered into being around the spellcaster. Martin nonchalantly snapped a fresh clip into his weapon and placed it into a holster under his coat while the smaller man glared defiantly at Martin. The Mage uttered some more arcane gibberish, and searing jets of flame shot from his fingertips toward Thorne. The grim smile faded from the Mage's face, as the flames simply died a dozen feet from their target. Martin began walking forward, burning hatred etched on his features. The Mage frantically spat some more magic phrases and several feet of entombing ice sprang into being around Martin, yet he could still be seen through the translucent prison walking inexorably forward. As he advanced, the ice simply ceased to be, as if erased from existence. An area 12 feet around Martin was utterly devoid of any sign of the spell. With only seconds before the advancing Martin reached him, the Mage, panicking, drew a small pistol from his belt and fired wildly.
Martin felt the searing pain in his shoulder as one of the smallbore bullets found a ***** in his body armor, striking home. "Stupid!" he silently berated himself. "You overconfident idiot!" The Mage watched in disbelief as Martin's left hand flashed up to his right shoulder to clutch the wound. A vile smirk crept onto his face as the Mage strode forward, cocking his little pistol in the process.
"I don't know why my spells didn't affect you, but I'll wager a .25-caliber slug to the forehead will suffice just as..," the Mage trailed off as the resounding BOOM shattered the night sky. As the Mage dropped to his knees, his pistol dropped from lifeless fingers. Looking at the ruin that was his stomach, the Mage turned his look of shock to Martin, and the still-smoking pistol-grip, double-barreled shotgun in his hand. "What....are....you?" were the last words that the Mage rasped before slumping to the ground to breathe no more.
Martin cracked open the shotgun and shook the spent shells from the breach. Placing a pair of fresh ones inside and snapping it shut, he strode toward the frightened girl. "P..p..please don't hurt me," she sobbed.
"I'm not going to hurt you, you silly woman," Martin snarled. He pulled her to her feet and shoved her toward the mouth of the alley. Martin thrust her purse at her and she took it hesitantly. "Go. Home. NOW." Stepping gingerly over the ruined remains of the thugs, she picked up speed as she approached the end of the alleyway, and broke into a dead run once she reached the street.
Martin searched himself, taking a quick mental inventory. He found he still had three full clips of teflon ammo remaining in his belt, and a double handful of shotgun shells in his coat pocket. He picked up the Mages discarded .25 and dropped it into one of the pockets in his pants. Rifling through the Mages pockets, he came up with a couple of hundred bucks, and an obviously stolen wallet with about 80 dollars. He placed a hundred-dollar bill into it, and placed the wallet in the pocket with another wallet he would return to its owner later that night. Hopefully, that will ease some of the hurt for their victims, he thought to himself. Pocketing the rest of the Mages cash, he moved to Bolt, and found another wad of cash. He would split the money amongst the many wallets and purses he would return to their owners that night. At least that might help ease the sense of helplessness that the victims of metas out of control inevitably brought. He pulled a couple of city-issue teleporters out of his pockets and activated them as he tossed onto the bodies of the two thugs. As they faded from view, Martin wondered for the hundredth time why he bothered. He'd told the cyborg 'no' when asked if he was going to send them to jail. Sure, he was tempted to just leave them all here in the alley to the crows, but hed made a promise.
Hearing a groaning noise behind him, he turned to see the cyborg in a sitting position with his weapon trained. Martin dove forward as the thug triggered his arm. The shot fizzled and died before leaving the muzzle, and the bleeding 'borg dropped back to the ground. The look of terror in the thug's eyes was evident as Martin strode over to the would-be criminals prostrate form. Sitting down, straddling the cyborgs body, Martin rested the business end of his shotgun on the creep's chest casually. "Somehow I didn't think I had done enough damage to take you down," Martin said with a sneer, "but I suspect that youll need quite a bit of 'body' work". Martin looked over the cyborg, and saw that seemingly the only remaining human parts were parts of his shouders, and most of his head. Presumably, several of his internals were still human also, otherwise, the bleeding wouldn't be so pronounced. The thug was mouthing the words "who are you" weakly, producing only a groaning, rasping sound. "Ah. An electronic voice box I see. You can call me "Lodestone". With that, Martin Thorne triggered both barrels of his shotgun. He took out a heavily modified stungun, and placed it against the cyborgs chest and each of its extremities. Each time he triggered it, the ramped-up current fried the internals on the cyberware it touched, rendering it useless. Martin withdrew a Bowie knife from a sheath at his belt and cut three notches to add to the dozens already in the mahogany stock of his sawed-off Winchester. Placing the knife back in its sheath, he took a long drag from his stogie, flicked the ashes onto the cyborg's chest, tossed his last emergency teleporter onto the creep, and walked towards the street, into the night.
High above the alleyway, a massive figure regarded Martin with intense hatred. The steroids, and other hormones that coursed through his veins caused his heartbeat to pulse in his skull with a deafening thud. Immensely strong metal limbs twitched in near-silence coated, in a black, anodized finish with an odd sheen about it, a product of Crey Industries, Ltd.
Soon, Thorny. Soon, Dawg said to himself, well be ready for round two, you and I.
Okay, everyone. That's it. It's been a long ride, and I thank each and every one of you that took the time out of your days to read my story, and that stuck with me all the way to the bitter end. I hope I have provided you with some enjoyment.
I hope to see some of you online sometime.
- The End
A little cliffhanger for the weekend before Halloween. Enjoy.
Martin fought the urge to retch, though the stench from the things was overpowering. His strength would soon fail him, and he would be crushed under the hulking bus, if the advancing cadavers didnt finish him first. Dawgs father was closest, and he opened his mouth to spew forth a gout of that caustic puke from 30 feet away. It splashed onto Martins lower legs, and immediately began to sizzle on the Kevlar armor. Martin looked at Darla weakly and whispered, Im going to get you out of here. Darla squeezed her eyes shut tightly.
No, Thorny. No, youre not. Duke and Zapp are the first of the four freshly dead metas that I promised my doctor friend. You and Darla are the other two. And now, its time for Darlas dramatic death scene.
You leave her alone, Martin snarled through clenched teeth. Dawgs late father again belched a volley of that foul bile, this time from about 20 feet. It hit Martin in the side, and found the cracks in Martins body armor. His skin felt like it was being par-boiled.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ill kill you and such. I heard the same crap from Duke and Zapp while I was doing their families. Funny how Im still breathin and they aint, huh?
Dawg picked up the roll of duct tape and tore off a strip. He walked over to Darla and laid down behind her, staring at Martin from behind her. Now, tough guy. You get to watch the whole thing. Say goodbye to your girlfriend. Dawg reached over Darla, and applied the tape to her nose, sealing her nostrils.
No! Dawg! Stop it!!
Dawg ignored Martin, and stood up. He walked over to a nearby staircase, and walked up to a catwalk overlooking the scene. He just sat there on the edge, watching the whole scene with wide eyes that belied a severe mental imbalance. Martin risked holding the bus one-handed long enough to try and stretch one hand toward Darlas convulsing form. She tried as best she could through her panicked attempts to get oxygen to her screaming lungs to close the distance, but the iron rebar held her immobile. Martin barely managed to just brush the tip of Darlas nose, but no more. He attempted to shuffle forward, but the rubble-strewn floor, and the awkward undercarriage of the rusted hulk would not allow it. Martin considered the bulk of the undead slob that was once Dawgs father off to his left, and a desperate plan began forming in his mind. Martin kicked a couple of stones in the cadavers direction, hoping to enrage it. Dawgs father had closed to within Martins field of influence, and tried to vomit again. This time, about half as much came out, followed by a sound similar to a fluid pump that has gone dry. Martin guessed (quite correctly) that although his power wouldnt keep the zombies from puking their caustic payload, it would prevent them from producing more. Dawgs father charged in some undead parody of anger, and began clawing at Martin. Martin kicked the thing in the side repeatedly, driving it around to his front, between himself and Darla. Looking over the things shoulder, he could see that the frantic spasms of her abdominal muscles had weakened and her eyelids were fluttering as lack of oxygen began to take her. After what seemed like hours, Martin managed to get Dawgs father under the bus between himself and Darla. Martin then began pulling the bus down on top of the thing. The gamble paid off, as whatever rudimentary instinct for survival took over and the cadaver pushed back on the bus. Martin dropped the hulk and ran to Darlas side. In its stupidity, the zombie continued to hold the hulk up, despite the fact that the weight began to crush the unlife from it immediately. Martin held no illusions that the thing wouldnt hold up the bus for more than a few seconds. He tore the tape from Darlas nose, and began dragging the slab that held her from underneath the bus. His own strength did not compare to Dawgs, but he still managed to jerk the stone to safety just at the bus collapsed onto the undead thing that held it. Martins fears were realized when he saw that Darla wasnt breathing. Martin pulled the tape from Darlas lips and jerked the rag out of her mouth. Jerking the rebar free, he tore the tape from her arms so that he could lay her flat. He hadnt thought about CPR since his 8th grade class had to take it, but he needed it now. He began mouth to mouth as best as he could remember, but he wasnt sure he was doing it correctly.
Woohooo!! Dawg cheered, Go for it Marty!! Nice lip-action there! You da man! Dawg laughed luridly.
Martin had managed about three breaths, and was about to start chest-compression when he was grabbed from behind. The fetid breath of the cadavers caused his eyes to tear up as Zapp and Duke dragged him away from Darla, puking their acid all down his back.