Apotheosis Boom (The Feedback Loop Book 8) Read online

  “And what about the Thuleans?” I ask. “Aren’t they doing something?”

  “We’ll meet with them tomorrow, after we’ve dealt with Aramis.”

  “That’ll be a hoot.”

  Sophia: Behave tomorrow. Just saying it now.

  “And what are the Sage’s wishes?” Frances asks. “You mentioned the Sage had feelings about all this as well.”

  “He would like to see Luther stay here,” says Empress Thun, “no matter what Strata says or does.”

  “Even through the destruction of the world?” I ask.

  She nods, a light flickering behind her dark eyes. “Even that. The Sage is a firm believer in the will of NPCs, PCs, RPCs, and those who have chosen to remain permalogged in.”

  “You’re one lucky kid, you know that?” I tell Luther.

  “I can turn myself in,” he says, lines appearing on his forehead as he offers us a tight smile. “I don’t want Tritania to go anywhere. This is home to so many people; I don’t want to be the cause of its destruction.”

  I look from Ray to the Empress. “You mind if I take this?”

  “By all means,” says Steampunk.

  “Look, Luther, that’s real nice of you, and believe you me, I wish it were that simple, kiddo. But how do we know your poppa is being honest? How do we know that he’s really just going to take you back, and leave without ransacking Aramis or dropping a real doozy on Tritania?” I shake my head. “Nah, that’s not how this is going to play out. All of us know we can’t trust him. No offense.”

  “None taken, and maybe you’re right.”

  “Hear that, Sophia?” I ask the sky.

  “We have to fight back.”

  “That’s the spirit, kid, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. But before we do that, we need to get a little intel, and we need to make sure they know we mean business. I’m all for sitting here and bumping gums, but like you said, we have to fight back, and the time to fight is now.”

  The Empress gasps. “But a preemptive attack could destroy portions of the city.”

  “Portions that can be rebuilt, quickly. Hell, I’m sure you have some NPCs ready to serve their Queen of England, if you get my drift. The way I see it – and trust me, I know how these Reapers are – they’ll get to the city limits and let their guards down. Then we strike. Bada boom bada bing. Death from above.”

  “And we make sure they know that Tritania will be fighting back,” Steampunk says, joining me. “We will make them understand just who it is they have crossed.”

  “Ray gets it. The more Reapers we bump off, blast with our Reaper hacks, or scare shitless, the better. Who is down for playing a little Reaper dress up? I know Aiden will be. Ray?”

  “I don’t normally join these sorts of affairs.”

  “And I don’t normally eat avocado toast for breakfast. My point is, sometimes we got to get our hands a little dirty. So here’s what I’m thinking: You, me, Aiden, Frances, and Rocket get our asses to Hyperborea. Do the good ol’ fashioned kicking ass and taking names schtick, only do it on the downlow. They’ve got to know we’re coming, but we’ll come from above, rather than meet them head-on at the city. Like I said, death from above.”

  “I want to go,” Luther says.

  “Yeah? No. That definitely ain’t happening, kid. Even if they get us, there isn’t much they can do. We got things cooking in the real world, things that your daddy ain’t going to like. But you… if he gets you, then he may just go ahead and bomb the place.”

  Sophia: Quantum!

  I roll my eyes at the sky. “The fact that you are here, safe, might be all that is keeping this world from destruction. Just my two cents, no, make it three.”

  “I want to fight too,” he says, conviction on his face.

  I glance to Steampunk and shrug. “Ray is right.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” says Steampunk.

  “And silence is golden, just like your gilded ass. Look, Luther, I’m glad you want to fight, but if you really want to help the Dream Team and the denizens of Tritania, you’ll have your Lost Boys ready for the final battle when the time is ready. Capisce? We good here?”

  I can tell he isn’t convinced. The others are, even Empress Thun, who is simply nodding as I speak.

  “Think of it this way: you are the only thing stopping him from destroying this place, so let’s not have this go like a movie where you do something stupid, get caught, put us all in a bind, then we got to save your ass, then we almost lose only to win at the very last moment, yada yada yada. You get it, you’re a smart guy. Stay put, stay safe, let us do this right, and when that battle comes, the big one in Ultima Thule that everyone is jonesin’ for, then you can make your presence known.”

  And here I am, thinking I have a future as a life coach.

  Unfortunately, just as I’m about to finish my little spiel, a portal opens up at the back of the courtyard.

  Reapers start pouring out, armed to the teeth, all hell breaking loose.

  Chapter Three

  “Who called the B Movie villains?”

  Even with their wowsie-wow accoutrements, general douchbaggery, and their Bane cosplay at a poorly attended comic con in the Midwest during winter, I get a sense that these mama’s boys mean business.

  They flex and yell a little, and a dame Reaper in armor that looks so tight it’s about to burst shouts as she points at us, but by this point, I’ve already equipped my bladed frisbee, item 192, and rear back to give it a good toss.

  Yep, we’re real-time battling here, none of that RPG turn-based nerd stuff. This is the real deal, and as I toss my frisbee guaranteeing at least a few instadeaths, I go ahead and equip my life vest, item 578, to protect me from HP damage, and my pair of Halo M6Cs, item 73.

  I lay down some hella firepower as Frances pulls Luther to the side, Our Lady of the Guadaloop tossing a throwing knife at a male Reaper who gets too damn close.

  “You have to go,” she shouts to Luther.

  “I want to stay and fight!”

  “Listen to your mother,” I start to say. “Joshing with you.” I do some fancy schmancy gun work, sideways blasting like I’m auditioning for the next holo-Tom Cruise Mission Impossible flick. “Get out of here, kid, you’re the one they’re after.”

  Luther’s Lost Boy assistant, Humboldt, comes running over to him, and in a flash, both fizzle out of digital existence.

  By this point Rocket has officially entered the fight, blasting Reapers with magic missiles and…

  “Hadouken!” He drops onto his back leg, and fires a mahoosive flaming chi ball at a Reaper with a gnarly weapon and an equally surly attitude.

  “Follow that up with Shoryuken and I’ll be impressed,” I call to him. A Reaper tackles me, and as we struggle, I equip my telephone book, item 12, and start beating him over the head with it.

  “Check me out, Q Mama!” Rocket shouts as he charges his chi.

  Q Mama? I think as I lay into the skulled up nogoodnik.

  Rocket does a series of tumbles and flips that would make a doped up Russian gymnast jealous, and with a loud “Shoryuken!” he drops a Reaper with a flaming uppercut.

  Frances grabs my arm. “This is not, not, the time to be showing off. The Reapers have serious tech!”

  The Empress, like most royalty, has already skedaddled, and unlike most royalty, Ray ‘I Talk But My Mouth Doesn’t Move’ Steampunk has decided to throw his period appropriate top hat into the ring.

  I never pictured Ray as a fisticuffs kind of fella, but he lays waste to a cackle of Reapers with a pair of yuge gears attached to his arms, and I’ve got to say, it’s impressive!

  The Godfather of Steampunk is handing out some real showstoppers, and the number of Reapers who hit the ground equals the number of Reapers who log out to save both face and ass.

  “Get ’em right in the kisser, Ray!”

  Even though she was the one who was just warning us to play it safe, Frances goes all rogue on a pair of skull-faced butt b
uddies.

  She drops a few sexy kicks, a running hurricanrana, a few shots to the place where the sun don’t shine, and she even manages to throw one of her blades directly into the muzzle of a Reaper’s shooting iron, causing a mini explosion that brings a cracked smile to my face.

  Typical fun and games for the Knights of Non Compos Mentis and the ally we never thought we’d need.

  And for a good little while, any ass that needs kicking and any face that needs stomping gets what’s coming for it.

  But as we’ve seen from the Reapers before, the elementary school dropouts rely on sheer numbers over actual skill. And the fact that actual NPC Reapers have started coming out of portals proves challenging even for us.

  Sophia: You guys need to get out of there!

  “Dr. Wang…” I start to tell the sky as I equip my BFG 9000, item 100. I figure rather than talk shit, I can toast up some skull candy.

  One trigger squeeze later and I’ve got me a nice steady beam of lime green energy disintegrating just about everything it comes into contact with.

  “Quantum,” Frances shouts over to me, “they have mech suits!”

  Wicked lightning cracks as two black mechzillas touch down, each with enough gears, pumps, killer diller guns, and sleek surfaces to make a Warhammer 40k aficionado touch themselves.

  I swear, it seems all of the fights I take part in for some reason or another end up with asshats in bone costumes using tech way above their pay grades.

  Rather than lament the fact I’m surrounded by skeletal amateurs, I inventory my BFG 9000 and return with item 531, Tom Brady’s partially deflated football filled with nitroglycerin.

  “Blue forty-two!”

  A couple of warm bodies spawn around me and rather than give them a roundhouse kick, I offer the group a shit-eating grin.

  “It’s about time you showed up, Aiden!” I cry out, my wish instantly granted when Morning Assassin appears in his football uniform, or part of it. He has the pads, but no helmet, tights too. I don’t know where he got it, but boy am I happy to see the guy.

  “Quantum, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I don’t know. A safety might be hard to come by. I was only able to get those in video games.”

  “How about one straight into the end zone?” Aiden asks as he one-arm pumps a shotgun, then fires into the face of a jetpacked Reaper flying at him, tosses his shotty aside, and comes back with a M1911 pistol, which he tucks into the back of his tights.

  “Reaper mechs?”

  Aidan grins.

  He flashbangs out of existence and reappears behind the reaper mechs.

  I pull my arm back, pretend I’m in a small southern town and I’ve been playing football all my life, and launch the Tom Brady partially deflated football as far as I can throw it.

  I'm no Waterboy, but I've also played my fair share of yard ball.

  The football spins through the air, passes just under a Reaper jetpacking by, and just as it passes over the shoulders of the Reaper mech, Aiden catches it, spikes it into a porthole on the Reaper mech, and gets the hell out of there before kablooey.

  The explosion that follows is the stuff of third world dictator dreams. I think about equipping my Trinity Nuclear Test Wraparound glasses, item 56, but there's no time.

  Three new portals open up, and more Reapers spill onto the battlefield.

  Sophia: You guys need to get out of there, now!

  Me: But we're just getting started...

  Frances Euphoria: Sophia's right, we really should not be here right now, especially if they start firing off their advanced weaponry. We need Doc!

  Me: We don't need Doc, we have me, Aiden and you.

  Rocket: Hey, what about me?

  Me: Just giving you a hard time, kid. Keep on blasting them with moves from Street Fighter Two.

  To appease me, Rocket drops to one knee and shouts, “Sonic Boom!”

  His attack cuts down an approaching Reaper, who had already been beaten down by blowback from the explosion.

  I can't tell if Rocket is angry or not about the Reapers taking him hostage, but from the way he's handing them their asses, he definitely ain't happy. Truth is, he hasn’t said much, and I haven’t asked.

  No sense in stirring the pot.

  Sophia: Get out of there now! We can regroup and figure out how they knew we were at the Empress’ garden.

  Me: Look, Sophia, you do things your way, I'll do things my way. And don't you worry, we're going to at least figure out how they knew we were here before we skedaddle, the old-fashioned way.

  “Aiden!”

  Morning Assassin appears next to me.

  “Talk to me, Quantum.”

  “All right, pal, you and I need to grab one of the beefed-up skull-faced panty wetters and see if we can't pry a little information out of them, before we get the hell out of here.”

  A Reaper starts firing at us with a submachine gun. AA bar activated, I do the Nero two-step as I slip around the bullets, watching as they cut through the air.

  I return fire with my Halo shooting irons, and just to add a little flare to my attack, I jump in the air while I'm shooting both guns. To add even more flare, I throw my Halos behind my back mid-AA and go with item 326, my 3-D printed AK-47, which is clear with a red handguard, something I imagine William Blazkowicz would get a kick out of.

  “Do it, Quantum!” Rocket shouts.

  Sophia: What part of leave now do you not understand?

  Frances Euphoria: Quantum, seriously, let's go!

  Doc: Quantum, grab a Reaper, have Aiden cuff him, and then go.

  Sofia: You’re on comms?

  Doc: I'm always on comms.

  Me: This is why I like you, Doc. You get me.

  Doc: No, I don’t get you. I simply want to know if we’re being tracked. Now hurry!

  Even though Morning Assassin and Yours Truly could make a big show out of it, and do all the wowsie-wow moves that we've ingrained on our digital souls over the last several years, well, two subjective years, a little peer pressure has me thinking we might as well finish this.

  Besides, the battle to end all battles is coming, and there’s no point in exhausting myself now.

  Still, I finish my round, mowing down Reapers like it’s nobody’s business with my clear AK.

  It only takes a few seconds for Aiden to nab one of the skull babies. He appears behind the guy, who I’d describe as mountain-sized and boulder-brained, slaps the permalog cuffs on, and returns to my side with our prized catch.

  “Hey!” the Reaper shouts, his voice tinged with distortion.

  “Where are we off to?” asks Aiden.

  I look to Ray Steampunk and see that he's taking on a Reaper Mech all by himself.

  A golden Halo has formed around the God of All Things Steampunk’s head.

  He floats in the air now, his cape beating in the wind and his hands charging.

  The Reaper Mech unleashes a wall of metal fury all of which bounces off his golden aura. The bullets fly in opposite directions, piercing some of the Reapers that continue to spill out of the portals.

  “Ray, we're getting out of here!”

  “Where we going again?” I shout to the sky. “A little help, Dr. Wang!”

  Sophia: To our guild quarters!

  Me: Do we really want to invite scum like this to the one place no one will bother us?

  Sophia: Stop talking and go!

  “Fine, fine.”

  But like I said before, you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

  So it is with great pleasure that I equip item 385, my Bomberman bomb, and roll it out onto the battlefield.

  Rocket and Frances vanish, Ray Steampunk finishes up the Reaper Mech and also disappears, just as I turn to Aiden and shout, “Let’s call for backup!”

  It's only a few moments later that the battling Brits spill out of our portal guns a-blazing, three of the six looking drunk.

  “Ah, the dandy boys have decided to make a run on the castle
,” Burley says. He equips a cricket bat with a blade on the end. “Another lollipop!” he says as he takes a Reaper’s head off.

  Cue prerequisite spray of blood.

  Bucket Hat, fresh from his night course at the Ministry of Silly Walks, slips around to the back of a cluster of Reapers to do his best Jack the Ripper impression.

  A bagpipe in his hands, Scotty gives the wind instrument a hearty blow that shoots darts all around him. The darts explode, filling the air a poisonous green mist that causes the Reapers it touches to log out.

  Pip, riding Pippa the Sheep – which looks as strange as it sounds – equips a lance and spears a female Reaper with curves for days, a Punisher skull painted across her breastesses.

  The Brits are joined by Jim the Doorman, Croc, and of all people, Dirty Dave, who has invented some kind of exoskeleton suit that features two massive guns attached to the outer edges of two blades the size of surfboards.

  A wild look in his eyes, Dirty Dave does his best to attempt to redefine the phrase 'trigger happy.'

  Croc, his muscles pulsing and an irate look on his chiseled face, starts smashing Reapers left and right with his big ol’ paws.

  Jim the Doorman fires an M16 with one arm and swings a morning star with the other, alternating between cracking skulls, and swisscheesing skull and lamb bones.

  Aiden slugs the big Reaper he's captured in the face, pries his skull mask off, and flashbangs the hell out of there.

  Realizing that I've overstayed my welcome, I go with item 82, my bazooka.

  “Everybody stay clear of the kaboomski!” I call out, and the NPCs from the Loop fan out, away from Quantum’s little toy.

  I track the Bomberman bomb, squeeze the trigger, and sadly, I don’t stick around for the impending explosion.

  ~*~

  “Do you want to interrogate him, or do you want me to handle it? You know I’m all for getting my hands dirty.”

  “Do I really need to answer that?” Morning Assassin offers me his wolfish grin, the grin that should be trademarked by now. He’s a good guy and an even better killer, and if DisNike would just get on board, they'd have themselves one hell of a biopic.