Chapter 17
No matter how fast he ran across fallen trunks, climbed walls, or traversed rickety obstacles in this forest of monstrous trees and decaying civilization, Hoss kept up with him. His own muscles felt tireless. Whatever neurosensory adjustments the monks had added, he was running on optimum fuel.
They saw the Xatar and Ember ahead, via a gap that went through a building and across a chasm. They halted to decide how to strike then kept going. They only needed the right moment.
With some patience and much stalking, the moment arrived.
The sledge gun could ram holes through most things, but the side effects of shrapnel and concussion meant anywhere near Ember was a no go, but taking down a bunch of Xatar who were ahead and another few behind where she walked was doable.
They paused on a rare open rooftop, looking directly down. He knew he could take the downward descent rapidly. Hoss, maybe too.
“Go.” He signaled to the kneeling half-orc.
“I know. Shush.” With the rectangular weapon aimed through a gap, a fracture at the edge of this roof, Hoss squeezed the trigger once, was rocked back by the enormous kick, adjusted his aim, and squeezed again.
Awesomeness in motion.
He’d never seen anyone handle such a big weapon so adroitly. It weighed more than he did, possibly, yet Hoss seemed to think it was a feather. A big feather that shot projectiles that...
Vaporized one end of a girder bridge and the other end too – trapping Ember and her six remaining escorts on the island of a support structure. A column beneath it ran down into the abyss. It held, though that’d been the one if. What if it was fragile and crumbled?
“Go!”
He leaped over the side, clawed cybernetic hand dragging down the building for balance, kicking off to avoid dangerous spots then grabbing and regaining position. Climbing, falling, mostly both at once. Tree branches whipped past. Animals scampered aside, erupted into flight.
A mere human could never have done this.
He couldn’t have a few days ago.
Maybe his dick had given him extra something?
The Xatar hadn’t seen them yet, but they were turning, looking up, then looking higher.
Hoss was following, and apart from the echoing rumble from the exploding shells and a few Xatar screams, he heard nothing undue. No orc yells. The orc was still with him.
A few Xatar raised their weapons and fired. The bolts zinged by, burning the air blue – close but not close enough.
The last twenty meters, he drew the pistol he’d reserved for close fighting and shot the one Xatar who’d locked eyes. Perfect aim while falling at speed? Impossible.
But easy. He flipped outward and leaped the last distance to the end of the shattered girder, shot another warrior. Four left. One was spinning and aiming his arc rifle. Hoss arrived, thumping down at the far end. Now he had to take care not to shoot the idiot. As well as Ember, for she was smack in the middle...time thumped to a stop...and beautiful, and naked, with her shoulder-length curly red hair swinging in tiny flails as she whirled and saw him. Her wrists were tied and gods, she was mostly naked.
Hot. Naked. Breasts.
His new cock chose then to erect to life like a mammoth creature rising from the deep. The unexpected devotion of blood to cock was probably why he hung there, almost getting shot.
Luckily Hoss picked off his opponent, the force of the blast thrusting the Xatar into space, blood droplets raining.
Ember. Rescue the female.
A bolt flattened the air and skimmed past his left arm, tearing away a small piece of flesh.
Pain skittered it, roaring silently, blotting out thought and replacing mind with a ball of sheer rage. Veins burned. Muscles popped outward, creaked, realigned.
RAGE.
He cracked his right cybernetic arm across the next Xatar, batting him off the girder, screaming. He leaped onto the head of the next one, feet and hands grasping the helmet, his muscles crackling and humming as they moved, twisted, burst, engorged.
Glee surged, made him laugh as he yanked and tore.
Redness again, splattering.
Did he wrench off that one’s head?
Blood was everywhere. A remorseless transformation gripped him.
His vision darkened and his cock led him. He hurdled his way to her, killing relentlessly, as if plucking flowers, sending Xatars flying to their deaths, sometimes in pieces. As he ran he felt his back hunch, the distortion of his body.
He was no longer man, no longer cyborg.
He was a beast that knew nothing but red-raw rage and lust.
Before he reached her, he saw her fall. The girder under them was twisting and everyone and everything was going down, down.
Bouncing off the buildings and trees, he followed her twisting body into the chasm.
Catch her?
She fell slower than the others, somehow.
Catch her, he did.
Caught her, cradled her, clambered down and carried her into the inky depths beneath, where monsters lurked.
Somewhere here, water dripped. A place to clean the blood from the skin and fuck.