Onion lore

I started to move, but Fontaine got in my way.  “Hold the hell still, I need this,” he growled as he reached and did something to the detonator.  To my amazement, it didn't blow up in his face.  I blinked at him, feeling overwhelmed.  Too much shit was happening right now, and it felt like my brain had gotten whiplash trying to determine what to do.  He looked right into my eyes, though, and said softly, “We need every gun to win this war, so live long enough for that.”  Then he smiled at me.  “Spasiba, its boom time!”

So, there was a plan?  “Let's do this.” I muttered, looking up at Bishop, wondering how the fuck I was going to beat him.

“Well this is just too pathetic for words, so…”  He swung the barrels down towards the injured girl and her lifeless sister.  “First, the distractions!”

“Stay away from my sisters, you metal bastard!” Mac shouted as he backed away, then clenched his hands around his rifle’s handle and, kicking through the rubble, expertly fired shot after shot at the massive Reaper above us.  Our eyes met, both of us mirroring the other’s apology.  This was his way to make it up to me.  This was my chance to make it up to him; I’d killed his sister, the least I could do was see to it that she wasn’t blasted for the sadist’s amusement.  The rifle was loaded with some kind of armor piercing rounds, and, as I scrambled up the concrete steps, I was glad to see them punching holes in Bishop's shoulders.

What I hated was how those holes didn’t seem like more than annoyances to him.  He shifted his stance and swung the two cannons over to point down at the man in insufficient armor.  The shots echoed like thunder pouring into the remains of the building.  The structure began to groan and sway as his cannons blasted Mac with explosive shells.  The large man couldn’t run in the debris.  He couldn’t hide from the blasting explosions.  So, he died.

“One done,” Bishop said as I reached the level he was on, my shotgun loaded with slugs.  I had no clue how I was going to stop him.  I just knew I’d either do it or die trying.  His eyes narrowed as he smirked.  “Are you finally done running?”

“Yeah,” I muttered as I looked back at him across the beams and walls that crossed the void beneath us.  “You’re not afraid you’re going to blow this up?” I asked, my cybernetic eye flashing red as I glanced down at Fontaine working on something.  Glad one of us had a plan.

“Nah.  See, when you have guns like these, I don’t have to hit you.  I just have to hit near you.”  And triggered by a thought, the firing mechanism gave a loud metal click before the guns roared, and I was running as the blast took off the top of the steps in a shower of rubble.  I am not the nimblest of people, but right now I kept my focus on blasting him with slugs and moving ahead of the clockwork explosions ripping the ruin apart behind me.  I could only hope that nobody below was buried.

I didn’t aim, I simply fired as fast as my shotgun allowed.  He didn’t run or dodge.  The lead pancaked and fractured off his armor and all I could do was keep moving and keep firing and keep praying that whatever Fontaine was doing would work.  When I tried to sprint to point blank range, he blew the beams out ahead of me, grinning and saying something that was lost in the ringing in my ears.  Worse, my legs were starting to go numb from the constant battering concussion.  One misstep and he wouldn’t have to shoot me.

I wasn’t fast enough.  I wasn’t strong enough.  I had to be more.  I activated my eye's targeting matrix and tried to think of something.  Nothing around me would be very useful, so... my pack.  I lacked explosives (and knowledge of how to use them).  My shotgun was my strongest weapon, and it wasn’t doing anything to Bishop except amusing him.  I needed... what I shouldn’t use.  I had them; Dolkar hadn’t taken them from me.  I could use them.  I knew it was wrong and stupid.  It was going to get me killed... but then, so was Bishop.

I had to do better. I had to talk to Fontaine. I had to make this better for Dolkar. I had to give Bishop some peace.  I had to.

Green Malakit injection.  Adrenaline. Warfarin. Z-carbon.  I dropped The targeting program, then pulled open my pack as I kept dodging.  I injected like a fiend, trying to close the distance at the same time.  Fuck me...it felt good.  When the Malakit hit my system, the world crawled to a halt.  It was almost like I time had froze, but I could still move.  When the drugs wore off, Bishop found me in his face.  Or rather, my shotgun in his face.  I fired four rounds at point blank range... and a little shield popped up on my Combat assessment module with each.  Even now, he was too tough for my weapons to touch.

I didn’t give a crap.  For all his pistons and steel, he was still human, and I forced my way behind him.  “Gonna give me a massage?” he laughed as he smashed my shotgun with one hand.  It would be his last laugh.

I pointed the gun at the back of his ankle and he screamed.  I had a feeling that he had never screamed like that before.  I prayed to Luna that this was one injury, no matter how superficial, that he couldn’t regenerate or heal.  With my final, extremely satisfying shot, I crippled God.

All sadistic banter went away as he stomped and kicked wildly. To stay behind him was to be rendered into bloody paste.  I hooked my arms around the ammo feed to one of his guns and was jerked out from under him, flipping onto his back.  All I could do was hang on for dear life, digging my fingers into sharp metal to keep from slipping off as he flailed and thrashed in a frenzy of his own.  One swing would have tossed me out over the edge if not for my hand being caught in his ammo feed.  Finally, he managed to get a grip on my shoulder and pull.

By pure luck I slammed into a metal pipe and wrapped my hand around it desperately, dangling over the jagged floor two stories down.  I looked up at Bishop, my neck throbbing despite the painkillers, as he stared at me with maddened eyes.  He wasn’t going to shoot near me.  He was going to render me into bloody vapor and stomp on my grave. Looking at the ruin of a foot at the end of his leg, I couldn’t blame him.

I pulled myself back up to the platform where Bishop had began to regain focus and saw that his guns were now completely out of commission. Suddenly I stumbled and fell on my face, the strain of the battle having burnt out my cybernetic legs and arms leaving me motionless on the floor. Then my salvation arrived as quickly as I had fallen.

“I'm sick of your dumb ass stomping around and making a mess of things.” Gritted Fontaine at the angry war machine as he stepped over to Macintosh's lever action rifle, and brought it to his hip, loading it with the scary rounds he had stored in his belt. “Now do me and everyone else a favor.“ it at Bishops's midsection and firing with steel resolve; each shot impacting his armor and staggering him a step backwards.

Fontaine looked him in the eyes, dropped the rifle, and proceeded to boot him in the chest; sending the menace screaming down into the spikes. “And go to sleep!” The Afinian leader finished angrily as the detonator he'd placed on Bishop triggered, engulfing the metal man in fatal flame.

I blinked and struggled to my feet, the warehouse now silent save for the sound of crackling fire and crumbling stone. “Thanks.”