5.

I stood there frozen, waiting for the light to vanish.

Silver grabbed my shoulder. “Move!” he shouted, and Rogue and I paced after him. 

It seemed darker on our second round through the maze of shipping containers. The Voice kept speaking like a busted record player scratching the same few lyrics about the same old song in the same old fucking way. This is exciting, folks! I thought. Shut-your-fucking-mouth exciting!

The path we took ended on a circular clearing, and inside of it Henry was marching with those heavy, ground-shaking strides. We lurked between two shipping units. I gripped the rungs and kept my head low, glancing around the vicinity, and sometimes checking my Infrared to map out the exact positioning of everyone on the field. Turned out more participants had slowly but steadily made their way to the bottom. That made sense; no one wanted these assholes to get that key first. 

By the time Mad Eye and Bicep made it to the circular clearing, a total of twelve participants were on the base, including Rogue, Silver and me. I didn’t know the exact number of teams, but there were twelve people nonetheless. That complicated things even further. 

*Defend the Golden Key,* said Henry, turning to Bicep and Mad Eye. 

“Well aren’t you a big boy?” yelled Mad Eye, drawing his sword around his buckle. 

*Activating defence protocol: Stage Zero.* Henry squared its shoulders (as if they needed any squaring to begin with) and began vibrating with an intense thrum. The shoulderplates lifted, exposing a layer of carbon fibre, black-and-blue cables, and wiring outlets. The once blue glow that emanated from its Jet-Corp eye now blinked with scarlet red. The central torso opened to reveal a ball bearing as the arms began spinning around it, picking up speed until they whirred like a helicopter rotor. 

Any faster and I thought the paper might have flown off, but no, it was taped on there good. 

Bicep circled to the other side, near the three of us, her laser-sword drawn towards the floor.

I kept my blaster at the ready, resisting the urge to shoot her on sight. I could have done it. I could have very well put an end to that bitch's life, but I had to be smart, patient, and quick. Wait for an opportunity. . . . 

The crowd chanted: “Henry! Henry! Henry!”

Drones hovered across the halflight.

*Defence protocol activated. Target acquired.* Henry charged with nightmarish speed, so fast it was nothing but a mere blur against my eyeshield, and I saw a flash of something red and blue, like the pulse of an enormous plasma bulb. 

BOOM!

Henry crashed into a stack of shipping containers and bounced. Back it went, as if struck with an oversized baton, and down across the floor in a scraping slide. The ground sparked as the blades cut into the steel, and Henry kicked itself up again. The shipping units were still in place, bolted tautly to the ground, but where was Mad Eye? And what was that flash? I hadn’t the slightest of an idea. 

I peeked around Silver and Rogue’s shoulders, hoping to find an answer, and—

BANG!

Something sharp sliced into my back. Thick, not quite a regular bullet, not quite a blade; this was somewhere in between. I winced, and all three of us snapped our heads behind. 

A shadowy figure walked between the containment units, a blue-glowing gun cocked in its elbow, its masked eye above the iron-sight. It pumped the gauge—CHH-CHH—and—

We dove farther into our hiding spot, away from the edge. The shell pierced the metal with another pop. It left a red liquid which dripped from the entry hole. Melted weave. A melted-weave shotgun.

“Shit!” Pain suffused my shoulders and neck in bolts. “There's someone else!”

“Move away!” shouted Silver.

We all locked our barrels on the gap separating our side from the shooter’s side. Whoever this person was, they were alone. A quick glance of my Infrared confirmed it. 

“IT SEEMS BOULDER-SHOULDER WANTS A PIECE OF THE ACTION,” said the Voice. “OUR LONE-WOLF’S MAKING ALL SORTS OF RISKY DECISIONS THIS GRAND FIESTA! LET’S HOPE OUR INFAMOUS, HIDING TRIO KNOWS WHAT TO DO AGAINST JET CORP’S STATE-OF-THE-ART THERMAL SHOTGUN!”

Thermal. So that explains the liquid, and why it burns so fucking much!

I gritted my teeth, trying my hardest to ignore the sting. The adrenaline wasn’t helping; it was like a swathe of nettles had somehow slipped between the cracks of my armour. 

*Target acquired!* a voice bellowed. 

We turned to the right. Henry stood spinning its arms, its red eye fixated upon us, shakily bobbing with each step. Mad Eye and Bicep were nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck!” I screamed, and Henry charged.

We legged it to another gap between units, barely managing to escape. Silver stepped out and hurried into the circular clearing. We followed. 

“How do we stop this thing?” yelled Rogue.

“Make it ram into the crates,” said Silver. “They're bolted. It'll fall.”

“How’re we supposed to do that?” I sucked the pain through my teeth and clenched my muscles eye-wateringly tight, hoping to God the sting would lessen. Of course it didn’t. 

Before he could answer, Boulder-Shoulder appeared from our recent hiding spot. He aimed the shotgun at us from around the edge. POW!

The spray tipped my armour but the shell missed. 

We fired at him. 

He hid. 

*Target acquired!* Henry charged again, through the gap and passing Boulder-Shoulder, into the clearing.

I trailed off to the right, shooting laser after laser at it. No effect. These blasters were utterly useless against that plating. What about the carbon fibre? The wires below the shoulders? Maybe those were the weakspots. But how was I supposed to get a good shot while those arms spun around and around and around. I was close enough to where I could feel the draught expand, offering cool air to my heat-pumped, sweat-dampened body. 

“The wires!” I yelled. “Aim for the shoulders!” I didn’t know if Silver or Rogue could hear me at first—there had been way too much noise—but after a quick nod and wordless shout from Silver, I figured they must have. 

Henry turned again, this time facing me and only me. Shit.

Boulder-Shoulder stepped out. “What the fuck’re you suppose’ to be?” Subdued, but I could make out the words just fine. 

CHH-CHH!

He shot the robot, aiming for the head, and Henry bobbed again. 

Soon all four of us were shooting the golem, blasting it with as much power as possible. 

I tried to keep my breathing steady to land a better shot at the wires, but my heart was pounding, and the pain was causing me to jerk too often. 

Henry charged me. 

I rolled out of the way. 

It bunted another stack of units and stumbled. The blades hit the ground again and sparks flicked into my line of sight. 

I shielded my face with my handless arm, as if I didn’t have a helmet already, then blasted the underarmour on its shoulders. 

A loud, cog-like twist sounded out, as though the gears were malfunctioning. Its arms stopped spinning.

I dared to step closer. As it positioned its limbs to kick itself up again, I hurried to its rib-area, aimed under the parting of carbon fibre, black-and-blue cables, and wiring outlets, and pulled the trigger as many times as my finger would allow in the short timespan Henry took to stand. 

POW! CHH-CHH! went the Thermal Shotgun.

Pew pew! replied the Fusion Blasters.

“Henry! Henry! Henry!” chanted the audience.

Soon Henry was back on its feet again, but with an unsteady wobble and a web of electricity which climbed along the outer plating, cracking and popping. 

*Target ac—* Static. *—quired.* It glitched, just as Android 316 had when Bicep injected it with the Hacker’s Spindle. 

It charged me again.

The same thing happened. I shepherded the robot into another stack of units.

It bounced, fell, and this time it didn’t get up; instead, it lay on its front, arms spread-eagled and glitching, head twisting in a desperate attempt to crane. 

*Target—* Static. *Acquireeeeeeeeed.* Its voice lowered further, becoming nothing more than a deep, anonymous playback. 

Rogue dashed ahead, snatched the laminated paper, and then backed away, all in the space of ten seconds. 

“I have it!” she cried, running towards me. Silver did the same. “Let’s get the fuck out of here—!”

POW!

Rogue tripped and hit the floor. Blood squirted from her arm.

“ROGUE!” I screamed, and panted to her with what little energy I had left. I scrambled next to her, turning her to the side. Absolutely terrified. 

“The paper,” a voice said. “Now.”

Across from us stood the man with the Thermal Shotgun. I had a good look at him now, under the white ring of light cast by the drones: a black andracor set which kept his rippling muscles half at bay (they were still exposed through large slits), white facepaint, and a pair of cargo trousers capped with iron plating around the knees and shins. 

This was a real scavenger, a proper candidate from the Dust.

“You bastard!” I said.

Silver raised his hand and splayed his fingers. “Take it easy. You want the paper?”

A firm nod. “Gimme the paper and none of you get killed,” he said. “Not by me, at least. That armour won’t do shit to protect you this close up. Now hand it here.” He held out his hand, keeping his shotgun locked on Silver with the other. 

“Rogue. . .” I said, pulling her onto her side. I was close to tears.

“I’m fine,” she said, but she didn’t sound like she was. Her voice was a grainy whisper, and I had to lean in close to hear her. “Don't worry.”

“Finish them! Finish them! Finish them!” The crowd.

“𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘐𝘛 𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙 𝘕𝘖𝘞!” said Boulder-Shoulder. 

“Here.” I picked up the paper and threw it at him like a card across a poker table. “Happy now?”

“Don’t push your luck.” He picked it up, still keeping his weapon on Silver. “Good. Now get outta here before—”

SLASH!

A bright, red-tipped laser-blade plunged into his back and stuck out from his chest.

“. . . gah . . . guh. . . .” Blood bubbled from his mouth and snorted from his nose. 

The sword withdrew, came around the top of his head, and severed it in half. The blood pissed into the air as the audience erupted in a series of shrill whistles, woes, and a single name: 

“Bicep! Bicep! Bicep!”

Boulder-Shoulder’s decapitated head hit the floor first, then his body. All in what felt like slow-motion. 

Sure enough, on the other side, Bicep stood holding her sword, and behind her Mad Eye.

“OOOH, AND BICEP PUTS AN END TO BOULDER-SHOULDER'S REIGN!” said the Voice. “NOW WE'RE ONLY LEFT WITH ELEVEN PARTICIPANTS, WHICH IS A DRASTIC CHANGE FROM THE EARLIER SEVENTY-SIX. AND IT LOOKS LIKE BICEP AND MAD EYE ARE GONNA MAKE SURE AN ADDITIONAL THREE ARE CHECKED OFF! LET'S HERE IT FOR BICEEEEEEEP!”

The crowd continued to chant, “Bicep! Mad Eye! Bicep!” and so on.

“Found you,” she said eerily.