Dimension Of Perfection (And Its Flaws)

Chapter 2 - Policemen Acting As Policemen Will

"Oh, shit."

I mutter, now suddenly aware that I am not safe in the slightest.

Since having spread my wings, their sides have split open like eggshells, the guns pointed directly at me still planted on the ground.

Clicks and clacks coursing through their metallic interiors are followed by a smooth ascending tone slowly emitting from the barrels.

At the highest pitch of the guns, I drowsily lunge away just as the first and second shot zap straight through the area I was just in.

The bots steadily readjust their aim to my new position and restart the charge-up process, just as I'm able to clamber to my elbows.

In a suddenly deadly situation, my head flicks in circles for any exit. I catch a glimpse of the blue sky, locking on in an instant

I sluggishly leap up to gain speed in the air, starting my ascent as fast as possible.

Signing them off with a hand and bearing my teeth in a sly smirk, my wings strengthen in a slight breeze. "Well! I'll be off! Pricks!"

Before I can escape into open air, the atoms in the sky seem to collect into a solid surface, one that I knock directly into with the sound of slapping a water bed.

"The hell...?" Remaining airborne, I retreat from the invisible ceiling only to dive back into it for a second attempt. Again, my horns stop me getting any higher, forcing me to raise my arms to whatever I'm hitting.

Sure enough, there is something there, as my clawed hands can feel. Not very noticeably, since the only suggestions of its existence is the fact I'm ramming into it like a fly.

Taking my infatuation from it, I snap to the robots aiming up at me, and nearing the end of their cycle again. "Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, WOAH!?!?!" The pulsing beams from both of them zoom into my wide-eyed face, a moment shy of blasting me to bits. I'm able to drop from their target by letting my wings go loose. "HEY!!! CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS!??!"

Flopping onto the ground, my body falls limp as I lie on a cold manhole cover, crumpled in a pile like a corpse. Peering up at the robots, they again stare forward and twist their railguns into my face, not any handcuffs or backup to be seen.

Sweating, (metaphorically), I scutter off the manhole lid back away against the door to the fight club.

The sewer cover pings with something hitting it underneath. Halfway into my inevitable erasure, the cover lifts, revealing darkness below and a red glowing light peering back.

The lid flies open, a hand holding it up. Inside the hole, there's nothing but darkness.

Before being able to think about anything, the hand grapples to my foot, yanking me hard enough that I slide from the ground through the hole.

The lasers crack into the ceiling, slamming throughout the rock with incongruous rattling.

Crashing down onto a damp floor, everything remains spinning.

An endless tubular tunnel stretches down the left and right, keeping perfectly consistent for all I can see.

Behind me, a figure clad in brown and brass stands atop a ladder stuck in a strained expression.

The person and the ladder are mere inches to the side of the hole I fell down, the person still closing it from when I came through.

She seems to be a Sackgirl, coated in thick, knotty, orange hair gathering down in a bunch at her shoulders.