James Axler – Freedom Lost

“Fuck you, asshole,” it retorted in a cold metallic voice.

“Fuck me?” Ryan spit, his voice rising in disbelief. He knew his mounting rage was totally inappropriate, but he couldn’t help himself. “Fuck me ?”

The android was silent as it relentlessly continued to apply pressure.

“No, not fuck me. Fuck you !” Ryan roared, and shoved with all of his remaining strength. The bot flew back as if it had been launched like a torpedo, rolling over on one side and using its strong steel arms to try to push itself back up.

Ryan had leaped onto the machine’s back, keeping his head low as he locked his legs around its middle and hooked his arms under the metal appendages. The droid struggled in Ryan’s grip as he applied pressure, using the moment to try to catch his breath as he rode the metal unit around the pit.

This avenue of attack was unfamiliar to the hunter. Usually prey tried to stay away, not come in and stay attached. The obvious tactic of lunging backward and smashing Ryan into a curved pit wall was a tactic not programmed into the device’s defense comp, so all it could think of to do was spin and hop.

Ryan hung on, squeezing the droid’s arms back even harder. He felt one of the shoulder sockets start to give, and a small burst of sparks flashed out from the joint. He focused renewed energy on the spot, feeling his own recently injured shoulder start to throb in reflected agony.

Then the entire arm ripped free in a spray of sparks and smell of burning wire. Ryan was flung backward when the arm gave way, carried by the momentum he’d generated.

The injury seemed to extend beyond a lost arm. The droid began to thrash and buck in place, a horrible, almost human screaming coming from the speaker that had earlier been tossing out quips.

Ryan staggered to his feet, using the broken arm as a support. Then, once he was erect, he placed the limb on his shoulder and swung it like a baseball bat, smashing it across the side of the bot’s face.

The hunter fell like a cut tree to the floor of the pit.

“Hate you, you and all who made you!” Ryan yelled as he smashed the steel rod again and again over the clear housing of the sec hunter’s head. He had already decided he wasn’t going to stop until the glasslike substance shattered.

Krysty came running through the lower stage door, with Mildred close behind. Dean, Jak and Doc remained in the stands with J.B., who had been unable to clearly see the battle from their viewpoint at the top of the pit. To the Armorer’s dismay, Doc had provided a running commentary in the most flowery of language describing what Ryan was doingand having to endurein the pit.

“Thanks to Gaia. Ryan. Stop now, stop,” Krysty said, her pale skin flushed a deep pink in a mix of relief and excitement now that the combat had ended with Ryan the victor. Her red, prehensile hair was coiling and moving along her skull like a living thing as she tried to penetrate the killing rage that had fueled Ryan’s victory.

Not responding, Ryan brought down the arm a final time across the machine’s upper torso before allowing the steel limb to fall from his fingers. He kicked out with his uninjured foot, and the toe of his boot made a dull thudding noise as he smashed it into the pitted steel of the now inert bot.

“He appears to be all right, but I need to examine him,” Mildred announced in a voice tight with anxiety, helping Krysty support Ryan as they walked him briskly away from the eyes and cries of the cheering crowd. They passed twin techies, in coveralls and tool belts, who had also come out running to try to see to the damage to their own champion.

“You didn’t have to rip his damn arm off,” one of the two whined.

“Piss off,” Krysty retorted, “before I go pick up that arm and beat your heads in myself.”

Chapter Thirteen

“So, what’s first on the list?” J.B. asked.