Mechanical Gods (lgbtq+)

Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Last Stand

     Tyler pressed on into the hallway. Cold air blew from the air ducts, and it seemed it had brought with it the coppery smell of blood and death from the level below. The Android's shouts had subsided, and surely must have regained its senses, and now would come after him. 

     Here, surrounded by the darkness once again, it stirred Tyler forward. Halting to catch his breath, on the brink of tears, and using humanity's primal fear of the dark to his advantage in hastening his steps even with a wounded leg. 

     It was a good thing. Adrenaline kept Tyler's veins fed in some drug-induced frantic dream that kept most of the pain at bay. He couldn't imagine what it must feel like if he was strapped to a gurney, unmovable. The Android chasing after him was like the icing to that grim cake.

     How close? Tyler couldn't determine. Don't look back, he told himself. It would only freak him out and made him open to mistakes.

     At the side, just above the wall where it met the ceiling, a surveillance camera turned, following him. Watching him.

     Christ. It was tracking.

     Escape. Fight. Repeat. Tyler desperately tried to piece together what he could remember of the second arena. Where everything was and what was in there. He was only there yesterday, but it seemed the memory slowly disintegrated off of his mind. He knew he shouldn't panic now. Fear clouded judgment and memory as fast as a cheetah could run. If he let it win, he wouldn't stand a chance.

     He needed to finish this.

     Incapacitate the unit. Save Aiden. Tyler repeated it like a prayer.

     Dear God, let me fucking do this right.

     Tyler frantically wanted to hide and stay put. Every fiber in his body wanted him to do so. His brain, too. It seemed madness to take such a risk when safety was assured merely by him staying put in a corner and wait for a potential rescue. But deep in his gut, he knew they wouldn't come. They couldn't. Echo and Reese had never been there the past hour while the others were brutally massacred below. He couldn't count on them doing it now.

     No. Tyler had to do it. He had to get to the guns.

     It was the only way.

     Cowardice was a right only enjoyed by the meek and the helpless, and he'll be damned if Tyler ever believed he was powerless at this point. He still had a quivering fire within him to face the Android stalking after his blood. For Amanda. For Al. For Gregg. He couldn't retreat to cowardice. Doing so would lose his self-respect and forget the memories of his friends that died. He had to carry them on and move forward.

     Forward. Forward. Forward.

     He glanced at his wound. His blood left a trail. No matter. He wanted the Android to follow him to the second arena.  

     What was in the arena? Guns, most certainly, and lots of them. Gym equipment. The obstacles of various shapes and sizes. Things to hide. Things to avoid. Things that he could use when trapped. These were objects he trained with for quite a while. 

     Tyler had the advantage of a home field. He knew the training arena. He knew how to navigate the space even in the dark. Echo had trained him with the lights dimmed. The environment was an essential factor in a warrior's battle; she used to say. He grounded for six hours a day for the past week and committed it almost to memory.

     He placed the fear at bay. Let the terror subside away from his analysis. What else? What was in there? Weights. Sharp instruments. Boxes. Bars. Ladders. Storage and Equipment rooms. Lockers. Bladed weapons. Blunt weapons. The latter two could be used to slow the Android down if he couldn't get to the guns in time. What else? A kitchenette. A break room. A small lounge area. A balcony overlooking the arena from the second floor. Hiding spaces. Ambush spots.