Thursday, September 17, 2020

Close, and Closer

Shaxx is getting anxious on the radio. 
He talks too much. Across the gap from him he sees the Warlock he's been teamed with for this Crucible match. They share a nod. 
The Hunter is nowhere to be seen. 
The Titan turns down his Crucible feed, and amps his ambient input. For a moment, there is only the faint crackle of static over the wind, until...
There. 
Footsteps. 
Return audio settings to normal. Check Hand Cannon ammo - Full. Square shoulders. 
Wait. 
The Warlock holds up two fingers, and starts firing. Shots whistle past the Titan, screaming back and forth down the corridor beside him.
Wait. 
The Warlock ducks down behind a set of crates, shots ringing out off the corrugated steel as he starts his reload. 
Now.
The fury of the sun courses down the Titan's arm, coalescing into a white hot pinpoint of Solar energy that bursts into the shape of a flaming hammer in his hand. The weight feels good. The heat feels better. 
Stepping out around the corner into the face of two opponents who thought they could harm his teammate feels best. 
The hammer flies from his hand like a thing alive, like a hungry predator that was being held back by the Titan's own will. It seeks the one on the right, a Warlock, colliding with the might of a raging sun.
The Hand Cannon rises to face the one on the left, and barks out three quick shots at point-blank range, walking up from the torso and into the helmet. Shaxx says something celebratory. 
The Titan doesn't hear it. 
He's focused. Committed. The Warlock has shrugged off the surprise of the hammer assault, and has brought a pulse rifle to bear in response. A burst of three searing bolts jackhammers his shields and slams into his chest plate. 
He lunges forward, and knocks the rifle to the side. Bullets whiz past from his teammate, trying to help.  
One punch is all it takes. The glass of his opponent's helmet cracks as the singular strike connects, and the Warlock crumples to the ground, inert. 
A deep breath in. Hold. Release.
He turns to face his ally, who stands, and gives a thumbs up while reloading. 
In the distance, he can see his other ally fall backwards out of a shipping container, scrambling to retreat from the final opponent, who's rifle cracks shot after shot into the friendly Hunter's rapidly diminishing shield. 
Serenity disappears. The Fury returns. The Warlock is bathed in shining gold as the Titan forges in an instant the great Hammer of Sol, fills it with his conviction, and charges.
The last thing the final opponent hears, is an earth-shaking rumble of righteous anger, and the searing clang of steel on steel, like a hammer hitting an anvil.
Shaxx is impressed.

Wednesday, August 12, 2020

Sureity

“Okay, but, just hear me out maybe?” Lance wriggled nervously beside her, like some kind of nervous worm sensing the ominous proximity of some great beak. “Do we know, for a fact, that fifteen years of prison is really so bad?”
“We do.”
“But how can we know? How can we know anything?” Lance gestured dramatically at the wooden structures surrounding them, the shops and saloons that filled their view for blocks in every direction like some gaudy rustic theme park. “This could all be a simulation, after all. It would explain so much. Like why anyone would choose to live here.”
“It’s not.”
“But you can’t be sure, is my point. And if you can’t be sure, how could you be sure that prison is really so bad? And how can you be sure that Dianne will be able to help you, and not just, you know…” he made a jerking motion, pantomiming hanging himself with a squirk.
“I’m sure.”
Lance continued to choke on his imaginary noose for a few seconds, while she stood motionless beside him, studying the building. Finally satisfied, she strode in confidently, pushing the swinging doors wide and disappearing into the dim interior.
Lance slowly dropped his hands to his sides, and slumped.
“Yeah. You probably are.” He petulantly sighed as he followed his companion in like a man condemned.