Chapter Seventy-Nine - Boss Fight

Chapter Seventy-Nine - Boss Fight

Chapter Seventy-Nine - Boss Fight

Do not underestimate the Antithesis. Just because a models number is twice as high, doesnt mean it will only be twice as likely to kill you.

--Tiny, in a street interview, 2049

***

The trick was picking the right sort of bomb. Nothing that would kill Gomorrah and I, that was a given, and something that would still put the Model Twenty-One down.

It was injured. The Mecha cats had peppered it with little holes, none that seemed too deep, but in spots where their fire had been concentrated, the aliens skin looked like it had been assaulted by a cheese-grater. Gomorrahs fire blackened some of its skin, and I was sure emptying every round from my Claw into its flank had done nasty things to its musculature.

Im afraid theres nothing I can give you that will kill the Model Twenty-One instantly without risking yourself or Vanguard Gomorrah.

Shit, I swore. Noise grenades.

A grenade appeared in the air next to me and I snapped it out of the air. I didnt have to look to pull the tab on it and fling it under the Model Twenty-One. Almost as soon as the grenade landed it started to make its damned keening howl.

The Model Twenty-One shook its overly large head, its focus moving away from Gomorrah, who was busy backing up, and to the ground.

A leg stomped down on the grenade, crushing it and killing its noise with a squawk.

I didnt know if the resonator had actually done anything in those few seconds, but if it crushed it, then it didnt like it.

Another, I muttered as I started to run. I wanted to keep behind the monster. Hopefully it wouldnt notice me tossing the grenades by its feet.

The Model Twenty-One was even faster to destroy the next one.

Another, I said. And then give me something thatll blow up in its face.

I tossed the next resonator behind it, and the alien spun and crushed it faster than I could blink. The next grenade clattered by its feet, much quieter.

It stomped on it all the same.

I flung an arm over my face as an explosive blast roared past me.

The Model Twenty-One stumbled to the side, its front looking even worse, with its skin blackened and an entire leg missing from the joint down. Blackish blood was sloping down onto the ground in a rapid pitter-patter beat.

It raised its head, one eye partially shut, and looked right at me.

Ah, shit, I said.

I tucked my Claw away and grabbed my Trench Maker even as I started running again. My back-mounted guns swivelled around and started to fire at it. The plasma caster didnt seem to do much at all, only leaving glowing welts in its thick hide, but my railguns next round didnt bounce. It burrowed into the monsters chest, leaving a finger-sized hole of glowing flesh where it had passed.

It still wasnt dead though.

A wash of fire shoved the Model Twenty-One to the side, its claws scraping against the ground for purchase.

Thanks! I shouted as I tried to run faster. Id seen it wreck one of my mechs, and I was pretty sure they were tougher than I was.

Its refusing to burn, Gomorrah said. She sounded very insulted about it.

Damn, that thing is tough, I said.

Gomorrah lowered her launcher. Yeah. I knew the higher numbered models were going to be a challenge, but this is more than I thought.

That Model Twenty-One was approximately twenty percent smaller than average, and its reaction times were slower than usual. Its very likely that it was born before the end of its incubation period because of the strain on the hive.

So the real thing would be tougher. And its a stealth model, I said.

Its a unit that usually fights as a pack.

I tilted my head left and right, to crack my neck. Well then. Thats just plain terrifying.

Agreed, Gomorrah said.

The heat had faded some, and the glowing ball of fire was starting to break up, sending showers of sparks hissing through the air around it with fire-cracker pops. Then it gradually sank into the stone around it.

Damn, I repeated.

We should move on, burn the rest of the hive out and get out of here, Gomorrah said.

I could use a break. Maybe a nice nap. Something to drink... I considered what else to add to my list. A hug from Lucy?

I think we could both use that, Gomorrah agreed absently.

I shot her a look.

Shall we get going? she asked before heading out.

Hey wait! Lucys hugs are mine! Im not sharing!

What are you on about Cat? Cant you take anything seriously for a minute or two?

We went the long way around the Model Twenty-One. It wasnt moving anymore, but that didnt stop me from reloading my Claw and then emptying it in the bigger chunks of its body, just in case. If there was ever anything that deserved to be double-tapped, it was that heap of trouble.

I didnt think the models past twenty would be that, uh, insane, I said. Is it dead?

We got the points for it, Gomorrah confirmed.

Models above Twenty make up nearly half of all Antithesis forces. If you were to graph the distribution of models out, it would appear as a near-exponential decrease, with the median of models being between the model twenties and thirties.

And they get worse as they get bigger numbers? I asked.

Generally speaking, yes. Though there are of course utility models across the scale. Most models past Thirty arent necessarily terrestrial.

Okay, I said. I could have an existential crisis about that later.

I found my Icarus, the gun scuffed and battered, but still functional-looking, and I saw that Gomorrah paused to mourn over her Archangel's Kiss. Figured wed made enough points to buy another, but I didnt begrudge her taking some time for that.

I had one mecha cat left, the one that held onto my old helmet still. Tough one, arent you, I said. Lets hope we wont be putting that toughness to the test anymore.

***