LotS/The Story/Because I'm the Wanderer/Crush (2)
Crush (2)
You're trapped in a cave, buried alive. Yet your own plight isn't what fills your mind and consumes your thoughts. She'll keep going... Trampling Eclogue beneath her feet, squashing its inhabitants like insects. A mass murdering deviant, moaning in rapture as she crushes and kills.
Have to escape... Warn them...
Cycle Spelunking
The Dragon Cycle lies on its side in mournful majesty, illuminated by a pool of torchlight from your helmet.
A quick onceover shows that it's undamaged. When you push the ignition button and turn the throttle, it hums to life. Its eyes gleam, proud and strong like the creature they were built to adorn. Its headlamp floods the cave with its brilliance. This piece of engineering was built to last.
The rest of your weapons are intact as well... Could you cut or blast your way out?
You cast a dubious glance at the masses of rock blocking the entrance. Perhaps... But it would take far too long. Then you look in the opposite direction, deeper into the cave. As powerful as the bike's lamp is, the far reaches of the tunnel are still lost in blackness.
It could lead nowhere. But what choice do you have?
So you head down the passage, wheeling the cycle along over the uneven ground, allowing its lamp to scatter the shadows -- eyes and ears wary in case any more of those creatures are nearby.
Hope surges in your breast when the tunnel gives way to a large cavern. Several passages branch off from it. The first is a narrow, irregular opening in the stone wall. Perhaps dug by the same monstrous claws that tried to slaughter you. But the others... They're much bigger, broad and high. And from the look of the rock it's clear that they were made by industrial equipment.
Mining tunnels.
The headlamp flashes down one of them, disclosing the trappings of human development -- signs admonishing workers to wear proper safety gear, disused terminals mounted upon the tunnel wall. And from the markings on the ground, their varying depths chronicling the passage of transport containers both loaded and unloaded, the way out is clear enough.
You mount the Dragon Cycle and ride down the large passage, scanning the ground for any nasty surprises that might send you tumbling. But the path is clear, long ago smoothed by man's industry and not yet reclaimed by nature. If your luck holds, there'll be a way out at the end...
Daikaiju
A simple barrier blocks the mouth of the tunnel, an expanse of plastic mounted to cap the rock passage -- no doubt erected when mining terminated and the place was abandoned. Perhaps it was intended to keep children from straying inside. It certainly wasn't built to resist your weapons...
Sunlight washes over you when you ride through your impromptu exit, bright and glorious and warm. You find yourself on the same side of the mountains as before. It doesn't take long to locate the Crush Colossa's footprints.
Within minutes you're whooshing across the countryside, following the intimidating indentations. She wasn't in a hurry. From their spacing, she might even have been sauntering -- just a woman out enjoying a summer stroll beneath the daylight moons, with joyful thoughts in her mind instead of perverted murder.
You push the Dragon Cycle for all it's worth. Maybe you can catch her before she reaches the next town, even get ahead of her and...
But that hope soon flutters away in the rearview mirror along with the hurtling landscape. The town comes into view. It's a larger settlement than the last, its architecture modern and technology unhidden by any archaic facade. And there she is, towering above it -- clawing at the buildings with giant metal hands.
Weapons fire rains on her body from below, bursting and flashing against the curvaceous metal on all sides. But if the onslaught has any effect, there's no sign. Even from this distance you hear her laugh, projected far and wide from the mech's speakers, as she raises a gargantuan foot high above the ground. Then she stomps down.
This is insane... And yet you keep riding, zooming towards the town and the murderous titaness.
Shadow of the Colossa
You hit the cruise control button, locking the handlebars into position. Now isn't the time to take risks.
Then you run your hands over your gear, the plan forming itself in your brain even as you zip towards the battle at breakneck speed. You grab item after item, unlatching them from the bike and pulling them free whilst desperately trying to keep your balance. The smaller ones you shove into the recesses of your outfit. The larger one you sling across your back.
Screaming men, women, and children run towards you when the Dragon Cycle winds its way past one of the outlying buildings. Can't ride any further, not without mowing people down...
So you dismount and start sprinting, pushing past the town's denizens as they flee in the opposite direction. One of the men leaps onto the vacated motorbike. He cries out in frustration, slams his fist against a handlebar, gets off again, and continues running. DNA lock... No one's going to be riding away on it.
If you can't stop the Colossa, these people are all going to die. No matter how fast they run, she'll catch them and step on them -- hunting them across the landscape for sport and sensuality.
Melodious laughter fills the air above, washing down on you between the tall buildings. You round a corner, and once more gaze upon the metal lips that move as though shaping it.
The Crush Colossa towers above the plaza, a giant sculpture of death and destruction. Ruined buildings surround her legs. Smashed corpses and great expanses of blood are smeared across the ground. The square is one big charnel house.
Men and women scurry amid the carnage, insects at the murderous feet of a goddess, crying out in fear or rage as they fire their weapons at the woman who's come to crush their lives and loved ones. Others are on the roofs or at the windows of ravaged structures, blasting away from those vantage points.
These people are well armed... Local militia, perhaps. There's damage on the Colossa, scars and burns across her burnished female form. But if it affects her, she gives no hint. She's still laughing.
Once more she raises her foot -- slowly, deliberately, as though relishing the action. A man screams as its shadow falls upon him. The rifle drops from his hands, clatters in the street. He doesn't turn, doesn't run. He's frozen, petrified by his fear.
You sprint towards him, your ears and mind filled with the Colossa's laugh.
Crush Colossa
The man keeps screaming even as you tackle him and the two of you tumble on the ground, his screeching wail long and unbroken.
Her metal foot thunders down behind you, crashing against the surface of the plaza, echoed by her cry of rage. Then she giggles.
You get to your feet, yanking the man up after you, and give him a shove. He takes the hint and keeps going -- still screaming.
"Is that my little bike-rider?" she asks. "It's so hard to tell when you're all so tiny!"
She bends down, bringing her face and its glowing red eyes towards you. Weapons fire continues to rake her body, dozens of zaps and blasts. But she ignores them as though they were gnats.
"It is you!" Her voice is almost a squeal, an expression of unmitigated joy. "You got out! Now I get to squish you too!"
She lifts her foot. Bloodstained metal and bright yellow lights block out the sun, filling your vision with their utter finality.
You yank the Blue Dragon Crossbow from your back. Its limbs deploy with a click.
Her foot comes down -- not with a fast, hard stomp but in a slow, luxurious descent. She wants to enjoy squishing you...
You pull the trigger. A shaft flies, right into one of the yellow discs on her sole. She gives a slight hiss. That's all the confirmation you require.
When the explosive-laden bolt detonates, the woman screams in anguish.
You're already sprinting when her foot smashes down, well away from the impact. The Colossa totters, arms flailing as though she were dizzy. There's an immense crash, a rumbling earthquake. She's on one knee, that great metal joint planted deep in the ground.
"I wanted to feel them squish under my feet."
Sensors. Connected to her nerves. You'd suspected as much, had risked your life on the hypothesis.
The townspeople cheer, dozens of voices expressing victory and relieved hysteria in equal measure. But it's not over yet. You don't know how long the shock will keep her out of commission. And you don't intend to find out...
You draw a pistol-shaped item, one of the tools you took from the bike, and take aim. When it fires, a grappling hook flies at the end of a thin, strong cord. It finds purchase in the Colossa's metal, locks its prongs in place with unshakable tenacity.
A touch of a button and you're flying towards the giant metal face, yanked aloft as the grappling line retracts. The speed and force of the ascent might make someone else lose control of their bodily functions, perhaps even black out or at least surrender their grip and fall to their death. But you're a fighter pilot. You've endured much worse than this.
Your boots brace against the side of her head, preventing you from hitting the sleek metal in a clumsy splat. You're right next to the Colossa's ear. Close enough to see that you were right again.
A slender, cylindrical object appears in your hand, drawn from a secure pocket. Its end glows bright blue as you put it to work. An Ironic Screwdriver. They say these gadgets can unlock just about anything...
They're right.
The Colossa's ear opens up, metal panels sliding aside to reveal a cockpit. You thrust yourself inside.
And there she is. The woman herself, slumped in its control chair with her eyes closed, attached to sundry terminals by cables strapped all over her body. She's beautiful... Her figure, her curves, match those of the Colossa. It must have been modeled on her own body. She's barefoot, and in her feet -- each fastened to a dozen tiny connectors -- you see exact representations of those which crushed so many innocent people to death beneath their tread.
You snatch handfuls of cable and tear them away, severing her interface with the colossal machine.
Her eyes flicker open. She gives a soft groan. Then she blinks, focuses on you, and screams.
Your punch takes her in the jaw, shutting her up.
How did she get into this thing? Ah, yes... A small hover platform. It would have carried her up to the head when she wanted to board the Colossa. You pull her from the chair and sling her over your shoulder, before stepping onto the platform and letting it ferry you both out of the mech. It descends towards the plaza with gentle precision.
Dozens and dozens of locals gather round when you touch down, forming a deep semicircle. Some of them have their weapons raised, casting nervous glances from you to the Colossa and back again. But they lower them at the behest of the others.
You dump the woman on the ground like sack of refuse. A kick to her stomach makes her splutter back to consciousness.
"She's all yours," you say.
You step back.
"No!" she cries, as they press forward, surrounding her, hiding her from your sight. "No!"
First the shouting starts. Then the stomping. Boots and shoes rise and fall in haphazard, inharmonious chorus, thudding against the murderess' soft, helpless body. They keep stomping long after she falls silent.