Smack-dab, in the Middle of Nowhere (Waste Stories #1)

46. The Big Finale (Part 3)

H2-149 was spouting more of its gibberish about the inadequacies of human life, but Phoenix paid it no attention. He needed a plan, and a plan he needed. Preferably a good one. And fast. A good fast plan was needed.

But there were some issues.

Issue number one was the robot's proximity. It loomed, and that was never a good thing for your opponent to do, let alone a robotic one with a glowing red face. But the proximity meant that Phoenix would have to sacrifice his own life if he was going to grenade the stupid thing, which was something he really didn't want to do. Sacrifice himself, that is - not grenade the stupid thing (he was dead set on that).

Issue number two was the horrible crippling pain that his body suffered. Phoenix was sure that not everything hurt, but was quietly confident that about eighty per cent of his body was blaring out pain alerts, and that was a little bit too high on the ol' pain percentage chart for his tastes. But more to the point, horrible crippling pain hindered his super speedy movements, and a lack of super speedy movements would make it more difficult for Phoenix to do anything that might get the robot to back off. He'd already tried drawing his knife at lightning speed, but the robot was quicker than that. It was quicker than lightning.

What's a guy gotta do to get an easier opponent around here? he wondered.

"THANK YOU FOR REMAINING STILL, NOT-TRADER. YOU WILL MAKE THIS EASIER FOR ME. <lord and protector of the Farm, Farmer Brown, long may he reign> WILL APPRECIATE YOUR DEATH."

Phoenix was barely listening to it speak. He wasn't going to die in some shitty garden in the middle of nowhere. He had everything in life right where he wanted it. A horde of mad cultists loved and adored him. He had a stable job away from the trials and excessive debts of adventuring life. He spent large amounts of time alone (sort of) with a gorgeous woman whom he was absolutely certain would fall deeply in love with him after the battle was finished and he had saved the day.

Oh yeah, life was perfect. And some dumb Overlord wasn't going to ruin it. It couldn't ruin it. No way.

And then it struck him.

A foot, that is. Metal, to be specific. The robot kicked him one more time, probably to make sure he truly was going to stay still. H-units could be real bastards like that. But secondly, a memory struck him. Once upon a time in Phoenixland, he was out adventuring with a guy called Rad-man the Third, famous for his totally radical close-quarters ability and also his life-threatening radiation poisoning. Rad-man and Phoenix were pinned down once by a machine-gun-toting G-unit Overlord, a much heavier soldier than the H-unit, whilst a couple of other Overlords moved in to flank. Rad-man knew they couldn't escape just by squealing and fleeing, and the classic "What's that behind you?!" had already failed miserably. But, Radsy did figure out a way to get the robots to stop firing so that they could make a break for it with the ammo they stole.

He threw a grenade.

Now, Rad-man was well aware that a fizzy grenade (a deadly acid that also makes an exciting popping sound, fun for the whole family) would do little harm to the Overlords, but when threatened by explosives, they curl up into little armoured balls for protection. Then they stand up in place, unharmed, and murder you. However, the moment they curled up and protected themselves from the acid, Phoenix and Rad-man the Third bolted it backwards and disappeared into the sewers, never to be seen again. Except a bit later when they had another firefight, but they weaselled out of that one, too.

And so Phoenix had a tasty little morsel of an idea forming in his head. And also, potentially, a blood clot. He was getting beaten in the head a lot.

The Overlord known as H2-149 stood tall and pulled back its claws, about to strike down and finish Phoenix off once and for all. But, Phoenix had his plan - and a man can do anything with a plan. So long as it works...