Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Screw the Galaxy

If you take an extremely high-powered weapon, like that energy cannon, and bend the barrel, anyone who fires it is in for a world of hurt. Because if the obstruction provides enough resistance, the projectile is going to explode the gun itself. Of course, that’s just how Colmarian weapons work, not necessarily things carried by Dredel Led.

I didn’t even try and get to my feet. It would be pointless if he was just going to fly back a few steps and shoot me. Yeah, that’s how lazy I am.

The Dredel Led faced me, though it was kind of hard to tell since it didn’t actually have a face, then it kicked me in the jaw!

Thank the Colmarian Congress’s sticky floors.

I actually smiled as it walked over and clamped its insanely strong hands on my neck. The idea of dying wasn’t so bad, it was dying without even a chance of fighting back that bothered me. It punched me and kicked me and I took it like a trooper.

As little as we knew about Dredel Led, they obviously didn’t know anything about us either. It hit me in some pretty useless locations. Like my upper shoulder. Or square in the chest.

It was, however, smart enough to stay out of my reach. It knew once I had it in my grip I could get it on the ground. But whether its rocket pack had been damaged like its cannon or it didn’t feel I was worth the fuel, it stayed relatively close as it pummeled me and I did my best to protect myself.

After some minutes of this, I had lost the good spirit that originally came from finding it wasn’t using its cannon. I was just as useless fighting it hand-to-hand as I’d be if it were hurling exploding light at me from a safe distance. This way was just taking longer.

My pistol seemed broken, so my guaranteed way of killing it was now gone. My shotgun didn’t do anything except mar its aesthetics. And the robot was too quick for me to get a hold of.

I just didn’t see a whole lot of options.

Maybe I could slowly make my way upstairs while yelling, to give Jyen and Jyonal time to prepare. But if it was here on the station to kill Jyonal, it seemed like a bad idea for me to bring it to him.

I needed something that could hurt it. Then I got an idea. A really bad idea.

I would have to go many blocks away. And how would I keep it with me that whole time? And how did I know it would even work?

I had no other choice.

I knew one way to make the Dredel Led move was to walk towards it. Pretty simple. It would then step back, smack me a few times, and return to being comfortably out of my reach.

With arms outstretched, I stomped forward as fast as I could. Pow , kick , jab , it hit me. It then hopped backwards. Ha hah. I’d successfully moved it four feet after taking three punishing blows. I only had to do that like a million more times.

After I had moved it an entire half block, I was wondering if its limbs would hold out forever. Even machines break, right? They break all the time around here. Why should its arms be any different? That was the mantra I kept repeating to myself as I got my torso hammered over and over.

As we moved, I tried to put what street we were on out of my head as it was depressing. But people noticed us as our fight—that being a generous term—carried us onward.

The battle had now been going on for hours, I was sure of it. People were calling out to me, but I didn’t exactly have the chance to speak to them. My ears were bleeding. I think my whole body was. I could tell it wasn’t sweat because it was hot.

I knew there were a lot of people around now. Just normal citizens who were watching me die to a Dredel Led. I could see that being interesting.

I kept pushing it forward. Occasionally I would manage to grasp its wrist or arm briefly, but it always pulled back with such force I couldn’t hold on. But it gave me hope that it was doing the Dredel Led equivalent of getting tired.

My sense of place was nearly gone. I wasn’t thinking much more than of pushing this thing back as my lungs heaved and I dragged my legs.

Then I heard a very distinct voice.

“Hank. Move.”

It was Garm, and her voice was amplified. I looked around and saw no people, the streets clear of spectators. I took a few hits during this time and covered myself. I looked up the street and saw it:

Garm had her artillery piece out, pulled by a car. It was aimed in my general direction.

I tried to say “no,” but nothing came out.

I couldn’t distance myself from the Dredel Led. I was waving Garm down with one hand while trying to fend off the robot. She wouldn’t shoot that at me, it was for buildings, right?

BOOM!

I was on the ground and so was the robot. I looked back and sure enough, that gun was designed to knock down buildings.

A five-story office structure behind us was missing about half its side. I scrambled to my feet as the top part of the building began to bend in an ear-piercing cacophony.

The Dredel Led was not amused. Or maybe it was, I couldn’t tell. But finally. Thankfully. It was limping. An artillery shell and a ripped building had given it a sore ankle apparently.

It was like a race between two mountains, their movements measured in geological terms, as I hobbled to get ahead. I was no longer chasing him, it was after me. I tried to get my bearings and realized I was only a block away from my destination.

The architecture of course all looked the same, but the decorations were different. The street was deserted.

Suddenly I got worried. What if he wasn’t here? What if—

“Hank!” Wallow was standing right in front of me.

I sighed. Glancing back, I saw the Dredel Led had not yet entered the street. I tried to collect myself as I looked up at Wallow. If this monstrosity could not kill the Dredel Led, I doubted anything on the station could. Or in the state of Ginland. The slight problem was convincing him to try.

“I’ve come here to settle the score, Wallow. I’m going to bust you up.”

Wallow’s face contorted into rage and that gigantic arm lifted back to smear me into the road. I have to work on my wording.

“Wait! Not me. I’m not going to fight you. My buddy is. He’s tougher than me and I hired him and he says you’re weak and stupid and-and ugly and fat,” I said, hoping at least one of those would register as an insult.

“Where is he?” Wallow barked in a challenge. His arm thankfully returned to his side, though it still ended in a clenched fist.

“He’s coming. Be here in a second. Gray jacket. Green pants. Kind of…no head.” I looked back up the street, as did Wallow.

I saw no silhouettes, heard no footsteps approaching.

“Yup. He should be coming really soon. Just up that street. Ready to fight you,” I sniffed a bit and absently dabbed at my contusions.

“He might have stopped for something to eat. He’s kind of—”

There was a sickening crunch and I saw blackness. I was on the ground and truly broken. My forehead rested against the road and I think I was on my stomach. I could feel my teeth were shattered but I couldn’t even purse my lips to spit out the debris.

There was blood everywhere. I could only keep one eye open and that one only barely. I could not tell you how many broken bones I had because I was unaware of how many existed in my body, but it was pretty close to a 1:1 correlation.

I could not take in more than the shallowest of breaths without acute pain, mildly coughing as blood gushed out of my mouth and nose.

Is there really such a thing as a good way to be murdered? I hadn’t thought about it before. But my one thought was that this wasn’t it.

Over what seemed like the unbelievably loud noise of me dying, I could remotely hear Wallow yelling about something. Probably how I had stained his knuckle with my viscera. This had not been, in retrospect, a good idea.