Bludgeon Ball: Genesis

Chapter 1 The Dirt

The Dirt

'Keep moving now!' Yelled international superstar Akhona Blancs, the actor behind Orange Verlaine.

The hologram of the large man danced, his weight on his toes, his bulky, brick of a body, twisted and turned as if he weighed as much as the image, punching air.

Nati followed suit. The holograph flickered, running in fast forward to keep pace with her.

Her feet dug into the sand, a hole forming only to be filled by more sand. She could have moved, picked a different spot, but no, the resistance was good. It was like the sand was desperate to hold onto her for attention she wasn't in the mood to give, her kicking its abundance away.

Onwards she bounced, punching the air so hard it whipped and cracked as though beating down the wind, leaving thunder in its wake.

There'd yet to be sweat, despite the sand; despite the sun. She even covered her nose and mouth with a surgical mask.

She'd get there, unless...

"Nati!" The old man called.

'Come on! Keep-'

Nati flicked the air dismissively and the international superstar winked out of existence. Leaving her.

The old man held a metal spatula, unusually happy.

"Big haul." He yelled before she could ask.

"How big?"

There was a rule to the old man. He wouldn't have asked if that was all he had to say.

"So big!" He said almost dancing.

"Then should we stay?" Nati asked, a little hopeful?"

"Not a chance. We must not-"

"Linger." Nati interrupted and got dead eyes back. She was ruining the moment, which could be bad, for her. He'd keep his good mood by taking hers.

"...Yes. Anyway, pack up. We'll do a little excavating then your turn." He said.

He'd just stretched the morning into infinity and topped it with travel.

Excavating was one of the few things that involved the truck she could touch. Too bad it sucked! It was just enough busy work to keep her mind from wondering. But not interested.

First phase: Equipment.

On top of her visor came a helmet that clicked into place. One click as she pushed it down; it had to accommodate her hair; widening and opening up until four metal arms closed under her chin. Four clicks tightened it and her world lit up.

The Phankhomo was a beast, over five meters tall with two containers, each more than twice as long as they were tall. Excluding the dense arms of the containers.

One of which she pulled down with a creak and groan of metal until it lay vertical. Out of it were a pair of wheeled engines that reminded her of animals.

The first, a small giraffe, its neck bent back in a laugh and another a weasel coiled in a deep sleep.

The zoo was built of a collection of different parts linked together with magnetism and hydraulic skeletons. She rolled the weasel into the cave and into the room. It hummed, then uncoiled, spreading as if preparing to pounce. It shivered and out of its ribs light poured, drenching the room.

She picked up her sledgehammer and beat the ground. The pool of light became a pin prick targeting a specific spot on the wall.

One solid swing and the wall came tumbling down.

An hour later she got the sweat she'd been looking for.

It sucked. What was the point with no one cheering? Mind you... No one cheered in a cave, if they wanted to ever leave.

She had to pick her spots or be buried.

The pin shivered, bouncing around. The creak and scrape of the weasel opening its mouth followed.

'danger'

She had to stop, immediately.

Her hands raised like there was a gun to her back. She waited, palms up, ready to catch the ceiling.

It didn't come. She'd live another day. Well... minute; there was still work. Empty handed was a form suicide for the old man.

It'd been strange.

Instinct talked her into going back to the weasel. She found four sets of eyes starting back at her. All on one face. It was made of bone and smelled of brimstone, like a caterpillar it turned and scurried away on eight legs.

It was quick.

Well... she was wrong about being alone.