03-06-2018, 09:36 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-06-2018, 09:37 PM by Koehler.
Edit Reason: Forgot a line.
)
The liberators cleaved their way through the ensuing horde of increasingly mangled mash of Darklings and cobbled-together machines. For every ten they down, thirty seemed to step off the production lines to take their place, more tangled than the last. They were increasingly resembling less machinery and more wandering scrap heaps with guns, claws, and haphazard construction equipment welded on. When they were felled, even by the dozens, engineers came out of the woodwork, through the hectic scrapyard, bounding over conveyer belts and nimbly dodging foundry equipment that continued to hum along, collecting scrap to deliver
The larger ones gave them more pause, due to either sturdier construction or simply because having more of the smaller ones fused together somehow made the larger masses of scrap more threatening to handle. These giants of disfigured steel and machinery towered above the rest, but for their power, they were often slower and clumsier.
After a time, the Liberators resorted to a more standardized approach to handling them, so they could continue to make progress through the labyrinthine foundry. Cole and Blink danced around them with ease, evading their slow and often telegraphed attacks and handling the floating mines, wandering scrap monsters, and the occasionally bold engineer with speed and finesse. Vision would then follow-up, oddly silent, Cole noted, and finish off those that were either too stubborn to stay down or which otherwise withstood the initial duo’s blitz.
With a path forward, the last two liberators went as a pair, surging ahead from the flanks to strike the center at the behemoths that were left open. Vision kept them preoccupied, expertly deflecting blows and countering with sound strikes of his hammer or carefully placed beams from his eyes. When in range, Cloud opened with a flash of lightning and Proto Man followed it up with a charged beam from his arm cannon to melt through the core of it, weakening it and allowing the trio to them proceed to slice or shred the towering automaton apart piecemeal. It was messy, dicey even, with more than a few close calls for any of them, but it was effective enough for such a spontaneous tactic. Cole wasn’t even sure if it was something they came up with or if they simply fell into it naturally, managing to coordinate on some level through the continuous stream of adversities they were facing together.
All the same, it was a slough for the Liberators, who had to force their way into the foundry complex inch by inch. Cole could barely keep track of what was happening before he had to evade a hapless strike from a scrap soldier, dance past a sentry gun, or weave his way around messily thrown around conveyers, welders, and furnaces.
“How are they making so many of these things?!” Cole exclaimed aloud, trying as hard as he could to focus on his breathing, but finding the effort to be in vain. He was panting for breath, every muscle was sore from overuse, and he assumed that they had been fighting for what seemed like a day, maybe even two. Cutting down yet another scrapling among dozens more that were shambling in his direction, he still found the strength to go on, taking every half-second he could buy for himself to try and sustain his assault.
”Ah, how surprising that, in provoking the hive of such an infestation, they would then seek to destroy you.” Fumetsu chided Cole in his usually calm demeanor.
“Just keep knocking them down!” Blink shouted back over her own personal tide of scraplings, and though her teleporting ability was effectively reduced, she was showing that she wasn’t short on clever tricks. She threw others through portals into welders, where they were fused to the conveyors or to other, half-constructed scraplings. Other times, she found the opportunity to nimbly dodge and have them fall through into compactors, where the factory then proceeded to recycle their own creations before they even were destroyed. The constant portal creation, alongside the ever present need to call upon her weapons of energy, was taking its toll on the Liberator.
The others were in a similar state. Constant fighting, with little time to rest or even catch a breath was beginning to wear them down. Proto Man was slowing in his movements, his attacks becoming weaker with every use of his cannon and every swing of his blade grew more sluggish. Cloud was similarly bogged down, wading through scraplings and slicing them cleanly, but slower now than before, and breathing more heavily with every exertion. Only Vision seemed unaffected by the constant combat, bashing through scraplings with a deceptive ease, but even Cole could tell that the strain did not leave him unaffected, it was simply harder to see beyond the oil smears and dents.
After what seemed like an eternity of fighting and wading through increasingly large piles of broken machinery and dead engineers, surging ahead to eliminate the behemoth scraplings and then regrouping to push forward with what little vigor they could muster, they had made it through the first level, around the bends and twists of the foundry floor. They had found themselves in one of the main corridors leading to the interior of the complex, and the Liberators hastily constructed a barricade of scraplings and whatever else was heavy that they could get their hands on in such short notice while still fending off the relentless tide.
After another few agonizing moments, they had blocked their exit, all to gain a moment of respite.
Cole leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor, as his gun in one hand weighed heavily and flickered while the sword in the other hummed with an irregular pattern. Blink was much the same, with a hand against the wall to keep her steady and standing, she was panting heavily. Cloud used his sword as his support in much the same manner.
“Can we agree,” Cole started between breaths, wiping the sweat off his forehead only to find his hand smeared with oil and rust, “to not ever do that again?”
“Seconded.” Blink quickly replied.
“We need to press on.” Proto Man seemed almost demanding, starting to walk ahead until Vision stopped him with a hand on the preteen robot’s shoulder.
”They have likely entrenched themselves, waiting for us, given the lack of resistance we are now facing. It would be prudent to prepare.” Fumetsu advised Cole.
“They’re likely waiting for us right now. We’d be going into a trap.”
“So? Stay here then, I’ll clear the way.”
Cole moaned as the red robot continued onwards anyway, despite the warning. Vision paused, looking at the three of them and nodding before following behind Proto man, hammer at the ready.
“Ugh… what do they make these robots out of?!” The young Quincy groaned in protest, but managed to force himself to a stand once more.
He looked to the others, who seemed similarly irritated, but had all managed to catch their breath again.
“So… One more time, I guess?” Cole asked rhetorically, nodding to the two of them and then walking despite the dull aches and pains he felt with every step. His walking turned to a jog as he tried to catch up to the two robots. Behind him he heard Cloud and Blink following.
“Hey, wait up!” Cole yelled ahead, trying to catch their attention.
The larger ones gave them more pause, due to either sturdier construction or simply because having more of the smaller ones fused together somehow made the larger masses of scrap more threatening to handle. These giants of disfigured steel and machinery towered above the rest, but for their power, they were often slower and clumsier.
After a time, the Liberators resorted to a more standardized approach to handling them, so they could continue to make progress through the labyrinthine foundry. Cole and Blink danced around them with ease, evading their slow and often telegraphed attacks and handling the floating mines, wandering scrap monsters, and the occasionally bold engineer with speed and finesse. Vision would then follow-up, oddly silent, Cole noted, and finish off those that were either too stubborn to stay down or which otherwise withstood the initial duo’s blitz.
With a path forward, the last two liberators went as a pair, surging ahead from the flanks to strike the center at the behemoths that were left open. Vision kept them preoccupied, expertly deflecting blows and countering with sound strikes of his hammer or carefully placed beams from his eyes. When in range, Cloud opened with a flash of lightning and Proto Man followed it up with a charged beam from his arm cannon to melt through the core of it, weakening it and allowing the trio to them proceed to slice or shred the towering automaton apart piecemeal. It was messy, dicey even, with more than a few close calls for any of them, but it was effective enough for such a spontaneous tactic. Cole wasn’t even sure if it was something they came up with or if they simply fell into it naturally, managing to coordinate on some level through the continuous stream of adversities they were facing together.
All the same, it was a slough for the Liberators, who had to force their way into the foundry complex inch by inch. Cole could barely keep track of what was happening before he had to evade a hapless strike from a scrap soldier, dance past a sentry gun, or weave his way around messily thrown around conveyers, welders, and furnaces.
“How are they making so many of these things?!” Cole exclaimed aloud, trying as hard as he could to focus on his breathing, but finding the effort to be in vain. He was panting for breath, every muscle was sore from overuse, and he assumed that they had been fighting for what seemed like a day, maybe even two. Cutting down yet another scrapling among dozens more that were shambling in his direction, he still found the strength to go on, taking every half-second he could buy for himself to try and sustain his assault.
”Ah, how surprising that, in provoking the hive of such an infestation, they would then seek to destroy you.” Fumetsu chided Cole in his usually calm demeanor.
“Just keep knocking them down!” Blink shouted back over her own personal tide of scraplings, and though her teleporting ability was effectively reduced, she was showing that she wasn’t short on clever tricks. She threw others through portals into welders, where they were fused to the conveyors or to other, half-constructed scraplings. Other times, she found the opportunity to nimbly dodge and have them fall through into compactors, where the factory then proceeded to recycle their own creations before they even were destroyed. The constant portal creation, alongside the ever present need to call upon her weapons of energy, was taking its toll on the Liberator.
The others were in a similar state. Constant fighting, with little time to rest or even catch a breath was beginning to wear them down. Proto Man was slowing in his movements, his attacks becoming weaker with every use of his cannon and every swing of his blade grew more sluggish. Cloud was similarly bogged down, wading through scraplings and slicing them cleanly, but slower now than before, and breathing more heavily with every exertion. Only Vision seemed unaffected by the constant combat, bashing through scraplings with a deceptive ease, but even Cole could tell that the strain did not leave him unaffected, it was simply harder to see beyond the oil smears and dents.
After what seemed like an eternity of fighting and wading through increasingly large piles of broken machinery and dead engineers, surging ahead to eliminate the behemoth scraplings and then regrouping to push forward with what little vigor they could muster, they had made it through the first level, around the bends and twists of the foundry floor. They had found themselves in one of the main corridors leading to the interior of the complex, and the Liberators hastily constructed a barricade of scraplings and whatever else was heavy that they could get their hands on in such short notice while still fending off the relentless tide.
After another few agonizing moments, they had blocked their exit, all to gain a moment of respite.
Cole leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor, as his gun in one hand weighed heavily and flickered while the sword in the other hummed with an irregular pattern. Blink was much the same, with a hand against the wall to keep her steady and standing, she was panting heavily. Cloud used his sword as his support in much the same manner.
“Can we agree,” Cole started between breaths, wiping the sweat off his forehead only to find his hand smeared with oil and rust, “to not ever do that again?”
“Seconded.” Blink quickly replied.
“We need to press on.” Proto Man seemed almost demanding, starting to walk ahead until Vision stopped him with a hand on the preteen robot’s shoulder.
”They have likely entrenched themselves, waiting for us, given the lack of resistance we are now facing. It would be prudent to prepare.” Fumetsu advised Cole.
“They’re likely waiting for us right now. We’d be going into a trap.”
“So? Stay here then, I’ll clear the way.”
Cole moaned as the red robot continued onwards anyway, despite the warning. Vision paused, looking at the three of them and nodding before following behind Proto man, hammer at the ready.
“Ugh… what do they make these robots out of?!” The young Quincy groaned in protest, but managed to force himself to a stand once more.
He looked to the others, who seemed similarly irritated, but had all managed to catch their breath again.
“So… One more time, I guess?” Cole asked rhetorically, nodding to the two of them and then walking despite the dull aches and pains he felt with every step. His walking turned to a jog as he tried to catch up to the two robots. Behind him he heard Cloud and Blink following.
“Hey, wait up!” Cole yelled ahead, trying to catch their attention.
Quote:1232 Words
The Liberators continued to advance through the horde at a snail's pace, at first, before managing to barricade themselves on the other side of a corridor leading further inward. After a moment of rest, and some banter, they continue on to whatever lay ahead of them.