Tuesday, August 9, 2022

Fiction: The Adventures of Chelsea the Social Worker, Part 13!

 I was debating whether to skip blogging this week, so of course, what I'm back with is even more of Chelsea. I have literally spent months planning this out, and it took maybe a few days to write. As usual, the full table of contents is at the end.


It had really started in the parking garage, as an officer circled the perimeter in search of an unclassified being known only as Skinny McCoy. He paused as he passed the main elevator, then looked over his shoulder. He nodded in satisfaction; there was no one there, there was no room for anyone there. So, he moved on, never seeing the shape of the wraith literally flattened into 15 centimeters of space between the columns of the elevator shaft.

It took less than 30 seconds for the assassin to ascend the shaft like a chimney. He then swung his way along the underside of a footbridge to an adjoining aquatic center. He vaulted onto a balcony in a kind of cartwheel, his limbs and body twisting. As he touched down, he opened a leather case at his waist and snapped together two halves of an archaic large-caliber repeating rifle. He made a strange downward motion that slid back the trigger guard and a section of the grip, opening the breech. Rather than cycle a round from the magazine, he loaded a cartridge from the gun belt at his waist directly into the chamber. By the time the breech shut, he was at the corner railing. In the next moment, he fired.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, in the market floor of the shopping plaza, several figures moved toward Chelsea. There were a maintenance AI, holding a pry bar, a Woolie who needed no weapon, a rider on a one-wheeled scooter wearing a helmet and jumpsuit that hid his identity, and at least two nondescript humans. One of the humans turned at a tap on his shoulder. He saw only blunt spikes on a bronze fist, and then he went down.

From there, a number of things happened virtually simultaneously. Three slugs hit the nearest flexiglass pane, one of which penetrated. The rider fired a spear gun at Chelsea, just as Shad pushed her to the floor. That projectile also embedded in the window pane, trailing a nearly invisible filament. And the three other attackers still standing wheeled about to face the apparition of Deve, a metallic humanoid with a multiplying number of arms that sprouted blades as they appeared. He started with four arms, the upper two bearing heavy triangular thrusting blades that sprouted from the knuckles, the lower arms sprouting twin parrying daggers from above and below. There was still more secondary cutlery, including a thin arrow-like blade from the knuckles on the lower left hand and the knuckleduster studs on the right. The AI got in a shot then and there, burying the pry bar in Deve’s lower back with a resonating klong. Deve countered with his upper left hand, exposing circuitry with a slash from one of a pair of parrying blades on either side before knocking the AI aside with the trowel blade in the center. That was when Deve reversed his two arms and revealed his full ten-limbed fan. From what became the uppermost arms sprang a pair of evil-looking S-shaped blades that seemed twisted more than curved, one ending in an upturned point, the other in a claw-like downward hook.

As Deve shouted his challenge, three more shots hit the window, and two of them came through. When a slug actually ricocheted off the tabletop, Chelsea tested if it could be overturned. Momentary inspection confirmed that the frame and “decorative” stonework of the round top were heavy enough to hold itself and the supporting hyperboloid frame in place by gravity alone. Even as she made that discovery, there was a crash as the Woolie lifted the entire top of another table and slammed it across Deve’s chest, with a motion that might have flung it if the range had been any greater. The living statue slid back, his whole torso creased by the impact. In several places, his bronze hide was split, revealing a wire mesh that seemed to knit itself back together as the breaks sealed. He still made a prefect thrust as the Woolie lunged in, driving his upturned blade straight through the roof of the Woolie’s mouth. There was a horrible garbling from the creature, until a strike from the knuckle studs dropped it like a limp rag doll. That was time enough for the remaining human attacker to grab for the imbedded pry bar. He withdrew with a scream, leaving the skin of his palms on top of a layer of ice crystals that covered the metal. There was a ripple in Deve’s hide like flexing muscles, and the object was abruptly expelled, to shatter as it hit the floor.

All the while, a whine came from the mounted attacker’s spear gun, which Chelsea assumed was to retrieve the harpoon for a second shot. Suddenly, the whole pane came loose. She screeched as it crashed down on the tabletop. The escorting officer Hexley opened fire as a cluster of passers-by gathered at the new opening. “Do not engage them!” Deve called out as he made his retreat toward them. “I have challenged them; they will destroy me first, if they can. Get them to safety!”  As he spoke, he traded slashes and feints with the AI, who now brandished a buzzsaw, and two more human attackers who hung back. Hexley nodded, then fired a final shot that knocked a revolver from the hand of a goon trying to use the window frame for cover. Deve leaped back, just as a Dodge A108 crashed through the entrance.

The van careened along on its rims, knocking aside two tables. It barely got all the way inside before it ground to an inevitable halt. That was enough to ensure that the goons who piled out came out of loading doors on both sides and in the rear, a dozen at least, and they did indeed focus on Deve. His upper three arms held off any attempt to rush him, while those who tried to catch him from behind or the sides were met by an assortment of grappling weapons in his lower four arms, including a short 15 cm version of the trowel blades. The most unwary lost an arm to a slash of the scythe blade. His protective suit made itself a torniquet, tightening over the wound. Another managed to hit him in the knee with a sledge hammer, only to be hit backhanded with what looked like a baling hook. Others brought firearms to bear, with little more effect. Pocket pistols and snubnose revolvers merely rang off his hide. A more consequential over-under12 gauge drew a sound like rain with a blast to a chest, followed by a deep gong as a slug went clean through and through. Then a goon still in the passenger seat of the van opened fire with a Soviet submachine gun. At that, Deve launched the middle blade on his left parrying hand, striking the gunman in the shoulder.

Meanwhile, Chelsea and her companions hurried toward the shop that filled the far end of the market area. Chelsea saw that many of the customers and staff had already gathered there. Several waved for them to go back. In the corner of her eye, she saw a merchant still huddling behind his cart. Suddenly, the straggler rose, and Hexley opened fire, staggering him with stun round. Hexley staggered in turn. Only then did she see a gun, already skittering across the floor.

In the midst of the fray, the mounted attacker raised a whole second spear gun and rolled forward to meet the bronze god, weaving and bobbing through the fray. The spear struck Deve in the middle left shoulder, possibly deflected by a stroke of his blades. The rider turned away, clearly aiming to wrap Deve with the carbon filament quite capable of shearing through bronze and steel alike. But he snared the cable with the triangular blade on the very arm it had pierced, wrapping it around the parrying blades on either side. A sharp pull drew the rider straight into a downward blow from a longer blade on the upper hand. A built-in safety cut the cable as the attacker literally flew from the saddle, his helmet not merely pierced but shattered. A split second later, he crashed through the cart before coming to a halt barely a meter from Chelsea. She reflexively turned her head, and gasped as she finally saw his eyes through the shattered visor. They were the same uncanny blue as the AI they had left behind. As the second AI turned his, or its, head, the eyes visibly locked on the loose gun.

“It’s the Triplets,” Hexley said, gripping her arm. “Deregistered AI, completely rogue. There were 3 of them, anyway. We thought we got two.” The pointing finger literally twitched as if in yearning reflex, but when it started to go through the motion of a trigger pull, the whole hand closed into a fist. She looked back to the spear gun; its grip was a simple paddle with a wire loop around the trigger.

“They really don’t take chances, do they?” she mused out loud as the AI rose to his feet. Then she shrieked as one more rifle slug came through the nearest window pane. Hexley and Shad pulled her into the store as an emergency barricade lowered behind them, but the AI had already turned back to Deve.

* * *

In the midst of it all, Frank sat at the wheel of Chelsea’s camper van, drumming his fingers on the dashboard. He looked to the officer beside him, and the giant echidna called Hector in the back seat. “Look,” he said, “don’t you have your own orders?”

“Sure,” said the human officer, who had still never identified himself except as Hexley. “Monitor the perimeter. Intervene if backup is needed. It isn’t.”

Frank gave him a hard stare. “So you’re sure two more officers won’t make any difference?”

“Not for what it would cost to get in there,” Hexley answered frankly. “The important thing is that we have a cordon around the area. From there, our officers will move in, detain any and all hostile parties, and secure the person or persons of interest. Breaking the cordon for any reason could double the time it takes to complete our objective.”

“Yeah?” Frank said. “But supposing you wanted to go in, would they let you?”

Hexley didn’t answer immediately. Hector whistled and shrugged, a singularly expressive gesture in itself. “Sure,” Hexley said grudgingly. “Between me and the monotreme, we have enough rank to pull that we could go in.”

“Then look at it this way,” Frank said. “The `person or persons of interest’ are my best friend and the girl who made him happier than any guy in the world, plus my wife and your brother. So, do you really just want to sit here?”

Hexley nodded. “No,” he said. “I suppose I don’t.” Frank grinned as he started the engine.

* * *

Deve stood at by as the goons swarmed in. His gray-green hide shone gold from numerous blows. In several places, gray vapor wafted from holes and cracks that had not yet closed. The AIs led yet another charge. One still swung a buzz saw, with one remaining arm. The other wielded a pipe, more as a mace than a club. The living idol skewered the latter with his triangular blades, but still took a blow to the head. The impact dented an ornate frill on his sculpted headpiece; it also cracked the pipe, revealing a filling of cement. The other AI lunged in with the saw, shearing off Deve’s left arm. He countered with the already bloody sickle blade, shearing off the other arm. A goon tried to exploit the opening, only to have his helmet caved in by a crescent-shaped fist axe. The remaining AI struck again, and again. Deve’s eyes flashed white as the pipe split across his face. He swung his remaining trowel blade straight up, driving the AI face-first into a light fixture overhead. He then slashed down, shearing straight through its torso. Two hapless goons dropped under the resulting shower of sparks, parts and fluids. That was when the literally disarmed AI charged head-down, with a dozen goons behind, slamming Deve into the barricade.

 

Chelsea stared about inside the store they had just entered. Behind her, the emergency barrier shut and locked, already bowed by the battle outside. The small crowd drew back from her. “Look,” Shad said, “we got together, that pissed my Maimeo off, and her boss drew on Spike. What would any of you have done?”

The bystanders seemed to relax, though most kept their distance. The group withdrew toward the other side of the store. Her gaze reached a bystander who leaned against a wall to one side. She couldn’t really see the face, but the eyes met hers… pale, piercing blue eyes. And then, for a few moments, things were hazy. When things cleared, she was looking down at a figure at her feet… and a head halfway across the store. “Um,” she said. “did I just decapitate an outlaw AI?”

“I’m not sure,” Shad said. “It happened really fast.”

“Okay,” Chelsea said. She turned to Hexley. “What do we do now?”

“We stay here and wait for a Riot unit,” he said. “What the Hell else would we do?”

It was Diane who spoke up. “Uh-uh,” she said. “As long as we’re in here, they keep coming, even if it’s through Deve. When they get through, they aren’t going to worry about collateral damage. And one of them is still out there. I am going to find a way out of here.”

Hexley stared outside. “Fine, you’re probably right,” he said. “But if we try it, we’re doing it right.” He pointed out the side entrance. “If I open that door, we’ll be in the cross corridor. From there, we can double back to the curb, go down the main throughway to the elevators, or cut all the way across to the other side of the Aster. The only problem is, they will be covering at least one.” Even as he spoke, he punched in a code.

As they emerged, Hexley pointed to a camera at the corner, and then to Chelsea’s wrist organizer. “I have your organizer set to receive the feed from that camera,” he said. It showed the corridor ahead, which ended between two banks of elevators, currently oddly empty. “You could walk out of there now, you just couldn’t come back in. We can do better…”

Shad pulled back Chelsea before she could pass the officer as he reached the corner. Hexley waved them to stay, then crossed the corridor to a barricade ahead. There was just enough of a recess to provide cover as he worked. He looked merely puzzled at the sound of the entrance to the main corridor opening from outside. He started to call out as he leaned around the corner- and then staggered and dropped as four shots rang out.

Only then did Chelsea look at her wrist, and see the silhouette of the wraith standing in the doorway. The voice that came down the hall was oddly soft, and all the more unnerving for it: “You just donta listen…”


Part I: The romance!

Part II: The parking violation!

Part III: Capsule hotel destruction!

Part IV: The Kelsiraptor, and Harryhausen monster bureaucrat!

Part V: The restraining order!

Part VI: The trial, part 1!

Part VII: The trial, part 2, with the King Kong Moral Contraband film!

Part VIII: The goon!

Part IX: The religion!

Part X: Kloe!!!

Part XI: The Arcostate Zoo, plus Spike's Southside Motorcycle Gang!

Part XII: Skinny McCoy!!!


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