Corpies (Super Powereds Spinoff Book 1) (64 page)

“Though this last engagement was lost, Father gained a tremendous amount of data in the battles. I am the first of the next line. Rushed and imperfect though I may be, I was still gifted with the newest innovations Father could conceive of. He was inspired by the way you all crawled about in his mighty destroyer units, so he began producing insect-sized units that easily could be planted on an enemy. Normally, they would burrow into the skin, destroying the resource from the inside out. In your case, however, they serve as precise targeting locations, allowing the room’s gravity distorter to manipulate your local field just perfectly enough to remove you from the battle.”

Titan whipped his gaze around and caught sight of a small, ant-sized speck of metal as it moved between the burned away sections of his shirt. As he did, he took notice of the room again, this time with fresh eyes. He’d assumed the disarray of broken furniture had been cleared from the room’s center for a slug-fest; now he understood the real purpose. The robot had taken away anything with which he might grab and use to navigate. This room, too, with its high domed ceiling had probably been selected for the task. Even the robot’s appearance, bulky and muscular, had been meant to lure him in with melee expectations. The whole thing was a giant trap, and he’d stepped right into it like a damn rookie.

“So, what now?” Titan asked. His mind worked furiously as he tried to figure out what to do next. The projectiles he kept for such occasions were in a compartment on his belt, but with how resilient these robots were, there was no guarantee that even a perfect throw would take his opponent down. He needed to think of something, and soon. “You going to use me as a punching bag until you build up enough strength to do some damage? If you’re supposed to destroy me, this is a pretty piss-poor job of it.”

“Oh, have no fear; there are new weapons Father wants to test. You’ll make an excellent guinea pig. But that comes later. And as for destroying you, a captured enemy asset is a neutralized asset. That will do until a permanent solution can be found. In the meantime, we both know you’re not the only enemy who is attempting to assail Father’s base.” The robot turned, looking down the hallway where Deadlift would be, still waiting on a signal from Titan to move forward.

“I’ll handle you after I’m done neutralizing the rest of your fellow assets.”

122.

               Despite his initial impulse, Titan forced himself to stay calm as he watched the robot head toward the hallway. Getting angry, while useful in the right moments of battle, did jackshit to aid clear thinking. Stepping into this trap was bad enough; he couldn’t afford to stay snared while that bastard went after the other Supers. In terms of power alone, they were probably better than the bot, but the way it had been so perfectly equipped to deal with him left Titan fearful that he wasn’t the only one it knew how to stop. Especially separated as they were, it might just manage to get the upper hand. Even if it succeeded once, that was too many times. He had to think of something, fast, to keep the damn robot’s attention on him.

Yanking free one of his projectiles, Titan let the steel ball fly directly into the metal back. It pierced the surface cleanly—so cleanly that Titan realized he’d put more power into the throw than intended—before bursting out the other side and slamming into the ground. The robot, now with a small hole running through its body, turned to look at Titan yet remained silent.

“I didn’t think we were done having our match,” Titan said, another orb dancing along in the palm of his hand.

“A quaint notion. My brothers might have fallen for that, prioritizing the immediate threat over what seem to be secondary ones. But today you showed Father that we are weakened if we rely on his instructions alone. I was made greater, smarter, closer to his image. And I know a petty attempt at distraction when I see it. You are neutralized, Titan. Accept it gracefully, as a good resource should.”

“For someone who’s so smart, you don’t seem to know shit about how comms work.” That voice came from neither Titan nor the robot, but rather from Deadlift, who had darted around the corner. Over his head was a massive bucket, so large it must have been scraping the hallway’s ceiling, securely nestled inside a dense section of metal at least three feet thick. Even a normal strongman would have struggled with the load, or at least been slowed by it, but Deadlift moved as if it weighed no more than a thought, which for him it likely didn’t.

“The asset known as Deadlift. High strength capacity observed but minimal ability to withstand damage,” the robot said. Its left hand began to glow with an ominous green light, one that Titan had no doubt would cut through the younger Hero just like Jeremiah in the ravine except, obviously, that Deadlift didn’t have any healing powers. “Permanent neutralization will be-”

Whatever the robot’s opinions on neutralization might have been, they went unheard as Deadlift swung his bucket forward. While the metal shit-talker was no doubt expecting some sort of solid mass, Titan’s vantage point afforded him a peek inside the container to the red hot liquid bubbling within. Deadlift had raided the forge, which explained why there was a massive container between his hands and bucket. He swung his weapon and a golden-red liquid sprayed through the air in a wave of molten destruction.

Moving with appropriately inhuman speed, the robot darted to the side, getting clear of the fiery goop before it had entirely left the bucket. Their opponent came up with its arm raised, a muzzle sliding out from between its ring and middle finger as the whole hand restructured itself into a ranged weapon. Taking aim, it again almost looked like it was smiling just before it squeezed off the shot.

“You missed,” it declared, and fired on Deadlift.

The beam of energy, no doubt meant to tear flesh and organs apart down to their very molecules, failed to pierce its target. This was not the fault of the robot’s aim or the gun’s firing. Rather, it was because a massive slab of muscular torso, still coated in burning hot metal, raced forward and put itself between the beam and Deadlift.

“No, he didn’t.” Titan could actually feel the heat from the molten liquid as it dripped down his skin, which spoke volumes to just how hot it really was. Deadlift hadn’t managed to coat Titan completely in the stuff, but he’d gotten good coverage: enough to instantly kill a large number of those damn tiny robots crawling on Titan’s skin while the residual heat cooked the rest. With no mini-bots to target, the gravity field couldn’t lock on, and Titan was once again a free man.

“Thanks for the assist,” he said, never daring to take his eyes off the robot, who still had a gun trained on him.

“I might be a rookie, but I still know enough to listen in for a teammate having a tough time,” Deadlift replied.

“I can see that. Now why don’t you slip back into the hallway real quick? This is about to get nasty, and I don’t want any collateral damage.”

Titan darted forward, well-aware that Deadlift would need a distraction to get clear. That was something he was happy to provide, as all the anger he’d been keeping at bay finally had an outlet, and it was the momentarily-befuddled mechanical bastard right in front of him.

The robot opened its mouth, probably to make a quip, but Titan didn’t bother listening. It had been too long, he’d gotten used to working as a corpie, there were all manner of excuses he could make for himself about why he’d fallen into such a simple trap. None of them would have mattered, though. Not if he let his fellow Heroes pay the price for his mistake. Thanks to Deadlift, he’d gotten a second chance. As a man who knew how rare those were, Titan had no inclination to waste it.

His first punch shattered the bot’s left arm, the one it had used to try and kill his friend. As he attacked, the robot tried to throw more of the mini-bots on him. The smelted liquid was still burning strong though, and they dissolved as soon as they made contact. The heat was adding something extra to his punches as well, flecks of molten metal spraying onto the robot and sizzling atop its exterior. The left arm was scrap in seconds, smashed apart with extra blows to ensure it couldn’t be put back together.

“This is improper!” The robot was backpedaling, trying to put distance between itself and the rampaging Titan. “You are an imbalanced resource! That asset shouldn’t have even been here, let alone been skilled enough to aid you. You shouldn’t exist.”

“There are plenty of people who agree with you, go ahead and get in line.” Titan kept after it, refusing to allow any chance for new plans to spring into the damn thing’s head. This was how he should have attacked from the start. It wasn’t his job to play with these things, taking his time and enjoying the fights. He was supposed to clear the path, no matter what lay ahead of him. Another strike, and this time the robot’s right leg broke away, turned to shards under Titan’s stomping feet.

A flash of red light filled the air as the robot fired from a gun on its right hand. The laser hit well, right in Titan’s torso, but only succeeded in leaving a small red dot on his chest. That alone was pretty impressive, by Titan’s standards, anyway.

Seeing its attack fail, his opponent attempted to flee, crawling away slowly with its remaining limbs.

“Why?” The cocky tone had faded; what remained was pleading, so close to human it nearly made Titan hesitate. Then he remembered the attempt to kill his teammate seconds ago, and he continued his pursuit. “Why do you exist?” the thing asked. “Why do you continue breaking the parameters?”

Another audible crunch as Titan wrecked the last leg. The right arm half-heartedly swung around to clock him, and he caught it effortlessly. The robot stared up at him, its last limb captured. Small compartments on its chest opened, deploying miniature bombs and laser blasts that bounced uselessly off Titan’s looming body.

“Why won’t you quit? Why won’t you just
die
?”

“That’s easy,” Titan said, ripping the last arm free from the robot’s body and wrapping his mighty hand around its dense head. “Because I haven’t earned the right yet.”

One tug and the head was clear of the torso. Less than a minute later, the body was reduced to scrap. Titan stood over it, waiting to see if enough remained to try and repair. Only when it remained still did he relax, turning the robot’s head around in his hands as he looked at the destruction scattered throughout the room.

“When you die, it’s over,” Titan said, all too aware he was talking to a lifeless hunk of metal. “No more work or fear or responsibility. I don’t deserve that kind of peace. Not until I make amends for all the things I’ve fucked up.”

123.

It took some time for Deadlift and Titan to continue on, mostly because the latter paused to try and get as much molten liquid off his body as possible.  As the material cooled it became easier—a few flexed muscles could shatter the hardened metal—but it still required a solid five minutes before Titan felt he’d wiped away enough to continue.

During that time, Deadlift said nothing, merely watching in amusement as the older Hero was annoyed by a substance that would have killed most people outright, Supers included.

“You really are indestructible, aren’t you?” Deadlift noted as Titan finally stopped trying to clean himself off. “I had a hunch that stuff wasn’t going to kill you. . . I mean, I’ve seen you take a lot of damage. . . but you didn’t even lose a step. It could have just as easily been room-temperature water for how much it bothered you.”

“No one is invincible, or indestructible, or unkillable,” Titan replied automatically. “Not me, not people like Jeremiah, no one. Always keep that in mind. When Supers forget that, bad things happen. Sometimes they go out of control with power and need to be brought down. Sometimes they lose their nerve during a tough fight and innocent people die. No power is perfect. As someone who has spent a big chunk of his life training and fighting other Supers, I should know.”

Titan looked around the room, noting that there was only one exit out aside from the hallway they’d entered through. With nowhere else to go, their path forward was obvious. As they began to leave, however, he noticed that Deadlift was keeping closer than before. It was tempting to chastise the rookie, but given that Deadlift had just saved him and possibly the rest of the team, Titan held his tongue. The kid had shown good judgment so far; if he wanted to stay closer then that was his call. For now.

“You know, I’ve gotten that speech from a lot of people, Dean Bishop key among them. Yet every time I see more of what you can do, I find myself wondering just how true it is. Maybe someone could have killed you when you were young and inexperienced, but now. . . I watched you lift a mech today, Titan. And shrug off who knows how many attacks. You’re really going to stand there and tell me you’ve never once considered the possibility that you might be the exception to the rule?”

Without warning, Titan stopped walking. He turned to face Deadlift, all too aware that their comms were still on. That was fine, though. This was something the others should hear, just in case they ever needed the information.

“Strong as I am, Deadlift, I’m still vulnerable to things I haven’t faced before. True, after years of Hero work that’s a small category, but it’s a big world with new Supers appearing all the time. And to answer your question, no, I’ve never thought myself invincible. Because I know how the DVA plans to kill me if I ever go out of control.”