6.13 Build
Build 6.13
Bryce Kiley
2011, January 22: Brockton Bay, NH, USA
I got bored of baiting the Merchants. I was pretty sure that no matter how many layers Skidmark placed, he couldn’t guard against energy weapons. Letting them stay in the race for a while longer was fine for now.
I skipped back into the air to take stock of the race as a whole. The auroras were still dangerous for me, but I was starting to get the hang of them. There was a small trail of light, shifting like a swarm of fireflies that blended with the starry backdrop, that told of wind trails that wouldn't toss me off course. I'd have to navigate those if I wanted to take the sky to victory.
In sheer speed, the Merchants were definitely the slowest. That said, the dumpdozer worked for them here. Their heavyset truck was less likely to skid than a smaller bike and the bulldozer front attachments allowed them to plow through snowdrifts and snowmen alike.
As soon as I left them be, they chose to take a shortcut, where the ground was more snow than dirt. Good on them; they managed to bypass Armsmaster’s traffic spikes without even knowing about them. They weren't going to take Armsmaster lead anytime soon, but the gap was closing, if only a little.
Behind them came Uber and Leet in their Koopa Kart. They'd been unexpectedly slow this race and I feared they'd taken my warnings about defensive builds taking priority too strictly, but it looked like they were finally hitting their stride. They rocketed towards the Merchants with what could only be a golden mushroom. Seeing how they were doing Mario Kart Double Dash, I wondered if they had a star for invincibility.
And of course, bringing up the tail end of our race, was Sabah. Naturally, I couldn’t help but take a dig. I opened up a private channel.
“Hey, Maven~” I greeted.
“Yes, B-Creed?” she corrected herself.
“So, how’s it feel it feel to have the most technologically advanced car in the race, but still be dead last?” I asked with a shit-eating grin. “There’s a joke about women drivers here but I’m too classy to make it.”
I couldn’t see her face behind the blank white of her mask, but I knew her well enough to know her left eyebrow was twitching. “Squealer is a woman!”
“Yeah, and she’s usually too high to remember her own name. You’re doing worse than Squealer. I wouldn’t call that a point in your favor.”
I heard growling, like an angry kitten, then the rapid mashing of buttons. APEP broke through an icy cloud. She was driving low to the tracks, just as I’d learned to do.
Suddenly, our baby apocalypse engine opened up four different compartments, one on each shoulder and beneath the wings. Out sprouted missile nests, each containing an even twelve micro-missiles. She had more in hammerspace compartments, something I regretted now.
“W-Wait, Mav?” I called. “Don’t you think this is excessive for a little teasing?”
“Don’t worry, they’re normal incendiaries. I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she said with a smile so saccharine that I could hear it.
“Ooh, what did you do, little man?” Announcer-Moon mocked.
“I told her she drives like a woman!”
“Fucking get him, bitch!” Squealer roared. The crackhead couldn’t even see me.
“Fine, I’m the bad guy.”
“I’d say private channels are unfair, but it looks like you’re ruining your own chances so… carry on.”
The four nests let loose in perfect synchrony, each missile launch calculated. An internal gyroscope would keep the missiles from nudging APEP out of position, ensuring each subsequent launch remained on target. It was an application of Air Gear’s tech that I implemented.
I tried to lose the missiles in a cloud, but that wasn’t going to work. Unlike Squealer’s rudimentary tracking system, the ones installed into APEP were smart enough to avoid obstacles.
I landed on the ground and raced ahead. A parade of missiles followed after me like the world’s most lethal trail of ducklings. These missiles were subsonic, well within my ability to outrace comfortably. They were more of a persistent reminder of Sabah’s annoyance than genuine threats.
The missiles tracked a target using radar, infrared, and visual cues. They avoided running into terrain using advanced terrain-mapping protocols. At their best, SAINT would have taken control for perfect targeting, but they were quite accurate even without my AI buddy.
But they could be fooled. This close to the ground, the targeting suite would have to compensate for additional terrain. It wasn’t much, but every bit of scrap data thrown its way worked in my favor.
I withdrew my raygun before turning around. Skating backwards for a moment, I fired the gun in short bursts, further cooling the area around me, especially my feet, where friction from my run naturally raised the temperature. That was the infrared covered.
At the same time, I flickered out of the visible spectrum and textured my costume. My cape took on a very specific texture, stiffening into a slant. Military stealth vehicles used something similar to bypass radar detection systems.
And just like that, I was invisible. I crouched down and let the missiles fly past me, blowing up against the soft serve mountainside.
“Hah! Take that, Maven!” I laughed triumphantly.
I celebrated too soon.
The moon drew nearer. His teeth glinted like piano keys as his winning, toothpaste commercial mouth grew even wider.
Though I’d vanished from most sensors, he had no trouble locking on to my exact position. If I had to guess, it was qi bullshit, something about the xiaolin showdown’s innate connection to samsara.
“Hidden rule: No invisibility. This is a spectator sport, pal,” he said, voice full of unrepentant glee.
“Uh… Is there a yellow card?”
“Hmm… Nah, it’s funnier this way.”
With that, he took a deep breath and blew. All the ice and snow that had been dislodged by the missile swarm came my way, rolling down the mountainside.
Hunkered down as I’d been, I didn’t have the time to dodge. I swept my cape around me and formed a shield before letting myself be carried off the frozen island. It would be easier to recover in the air than trying to fight against the avalanche.
X
Kevin MacLeod.
I couldn’t deny that we were weirdly well-equipped for this race. Even so, I couldn’t help the flash of nervousness that ran through my spine when I saw the next floating island.
We were nearing the end of the frozen hellscape and towards another set of divergent paths. Being fourth place had its advantages. It meant no one was paying attention to us. Maven was behind us, but she looked more determined to feed Creed some humble pie than any of us. That gave us time to put Koopa King into action.
Our kart was unique. In the game, it had the slowest acceleration, but also the fastest top speed. So long as we were left alone, we could really get going. And once we could, the inbuilt force fields would make us a battering ram. Like this, we could take the shortest possible route while ignoring those pesky traps.
A fortress made of ice blocks stood in our way. Catapults manned by snowmen launched snowballs the size of small cars at us. There was some kind of spike belt set into the road, but Uber hopped the kart with expert skill.
“Leet, now’s the time, bud!” Uber called back.
“On it!” I adjusted my red cap, the signature “M” fit snugly over my brow. Secured to my seat by a gravitic generator, I stood and took a pitcher’s stance. “Let’s do this! Wahoo!”
Double Dash was best known for special items that racers could get. Mario’s, of course, was a giant fireball. Cliche maybe, but damn if I wasn’t glad I’d packed it in our arsenal.
The pitch flew from my hand like a rocket. It grew like an inflated balloon until it was the size of a house. The fortress didn’t stand a fucking chance. There was an explosion, and more steam than a sauna, but we were through, Koopa King’s natural toughness and Uber’s fantastic driving keeping us on course.
We continued on our way but the placements did not change for the rest of the first mountain. Soon, we neared the transitional straightaway.
“Here they come. Up front are the official heroes followed distantly by the Merchants. Close behind is the gaming duo. Creed’s somewhere eating snow and Maven’s still getting fished out of a cloud.”
Just then, I heard the roaring of engines. Creed shouted something else about bubblegums and the small hill of snow he’d been buried under exploded into so much fine mist. He was free and he swiftly passed us again with that After Burner thing.
“Oi don’t count me out,” he told the moon. “Uber’s not the only one with mushrooms.”
“You heard it here, kids. Say yes to drugs. Shrooms can put you ahead of the race.”
I let out a bark of laughter at the announcer’s jab. He, it, whatever, was pretty good. I wondered if I could build something similar for a future stream, maybe when we did a fighting game. I hoped the snitch was getting everything.
Up ahead was the second major obstacle, made of craggly rock and flowing lava. At a guess, it was several times the size of a football stadium. Like the island before, it had its own small army of golems, these themed appropriately with molten veins.
That wasn’t all. The mountain was much lower in altitude than the one we’d just left, meaning we’d be diving directly into the summit before racing down along the slopes. I only saw it for a moment from the sides, but the bottom of the mountain was hollow. Inside was a giant golem, big enough to make one of those Nazi bitches look like a teddy bear in comparison.
“Uber, buddy? You saw that?” I asked, voice shaking.
“Yeah,” he said grimly. “Creed really doesn’t fuck around.”
“‘Fucking around’ is all he’s been doing.”
“You know what I mean. We still have the good shit, right?”
My hands ran through the digital catalog set into our weapons cache. “We do. You were right, bud. Guess it was a good idea to save our arsenal for later.”
“Heh, I usually am. Come on, bro. Chin up. Leave the roadwork to me. You just worry about your gear,” he said, his steady voice a balm for my nerves.
“Yeah, got it. Maybe pull out another trick? We don’t have a ton, but…”
“But now’s the time to regain our lead,” Uber finished for me. “You’re right. We can’t let these chumps think we’re out of the race. You think we should chomp it?”
I laughed. A vicious grin spread across my face. “Fuck yeah, Bowser. Chomp it!”
He flipped a clear, plastic protector on his dash. Inside was a big, red button, because we were men of culture and class. With a whoop of excitement, he slammed his fist down onto it.
Several things happened at once. Koopa King was Bowser’s signature car; ergo, it was made in his likeness. Along with its green and burnt-orange coloration, its grill was shaped like the clenched teeth of a predator. But since I didn’t have Creed’s bullshit pocket-of-everything, I had to compromise.
The grill split open like a real maw. It, and a significant portion of the front of the kart, detached and folded out. I couldn’t quite make a chain chomp, but I did get something similar to a Bullet Bill, with multiple rockets to pull us forward. It was still connected to the rest of the kart by a thick chain so it counted as far as we were concerned.
The sound of a baying dog filled the air. The rockets flared and kinetic amplifiers activated. They’d not only push us forward, but redirect air resistance into a kinetic force wave to either side of us, pushing obstacles aside to clear a path. We were in for a hell of a sleigh ride.
“Well, would you look at that? Woof, woof! I take back every mean thing I said about you, gamer gremlins,” Announcer-Moon shouted over the din.
“You didn’t say anything,” Uber shouted back. We were moving down the straightaway at horrendous speed, trusting in my chain chomp to keep us safe.
“Oh, right. In that case, I just want you to know that you’re not the fourth-rate jokes I thought you were. Congratulations, you’re officially third-rate jokes.”
“Fuck you too, asshole!”
“Hey, that was a compliment. Go, go, pupper! Awooo!”
I looked over Uber’s shoulder. Six hundred fifty miles, more than double the speed of the fastest car in production. Hell, even with the tinkertech built into the chain chomp, the only reason we still had control over the car was because of Uber’s power.
I felt the air pressure tuck me into my chair. Inertia dampeners be damned, it still felt like I was wearing a heavy, leaden blanket. I couldn’t even raise my arm while the chain chomp was active. For a moment, it made me respect Creed, just a bit, then I remembered what a smug asshole he was.
I was screaming. Or laughing. Or crying. I wasn’t sure. I’d never been in love with rollercoasters and the only reasons I was even remotely okay with this were because I built the chain chomp and Uber was the best damn driver in the world.
Well, the latter reason, anyway. I could see the frame shudder. The rockets were cracking under the immense pressure. We didn’t have much time before we’d have to decouple the entire front grill of the car.
“Uber!” I shouted, barely audible under the air pressure.
“I see it!” he shot back through gritted teeth. “Come on, chomp. Don’t fail us now, just a few more seconds.”
We approached the volcano like a meteor with a grudge. Creed had slowed down now and we were gaining again. He probably couldn’t keep up the pace for long, or maybe only in straight lines. I thought Uber was about to run him over, though how much fine control he had over Koopa King right now was questionable.
The kinetic wave caught him, shoving him aside like a leaf in the breeze. Then, the fucker twisted in the air like a cat. He pulled out an ornate revolver, different from his raygun, and shot the chain chomp before we could fully pass him by.
“A muggy ball for the clown car, how appropriate,” he whispered, his voice carried through whatever bullshit was fueling this fever dream of a dimension.
He pulled the trigger and an explosion the size of a small house consumed our chain chomp. The blast was overwhelming. For a moment, I felt like an astronaut experiencing liftoff.
Uber, that magnificent bastard, pulled off a miracle.
He hadn’t been too happy about his fight with Creed the other day and had been expecting shit like this. The moment Creed took out his gun, he decoupled the chain and turned the Koopa King sharply to the left. This let us take the explosion on our side while using the kart’s suspension to hop.
We drifted past the first turn before hopping straight off the ledge. The explosion carried us into a horizontal spin. Yet, we didn’t go out of bounds. We were supposed to race down the volcano so the base was naturally wider than the summit where we started. The landing was rough, but we managed a shortcut straight out of Mario Kart.
Suddenly, we were in the lead with a huge gap. I didn’t know how, but we’d managed to skip half the volcano without triggering Announcer-Moon's traps. Uber brought us to a temporary stop to collect ourselves.
“Hahaha! Uber, you son of a bitch!” I laughed. I couldn’t tell if I was impressed or trying not to fall into a hysterical fit.
“Heh, guess we’re in the lead now,” he said with a shaky smile of his own. “Let’s cruise while we figure out how to deal with the lava golem downstairs.”
“Be real with me, man. How much of this was luck?”
“Oi, luck’s a skill too, bro.”
I looked around. “Is Creed following us?”
“I don’t see him fall with us. He got blasted in a different direction. Knowing him, he probably hit a wall. Or fell into a river of lava.”
“Huh… Think he’s okay?”
He shrugged. “How should I know? The race has been nonlethal so far. I’m sure that freaky-ass moon’s got it handled.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s get going. I don’t want Armsmaster to catch up. That’d be fucking embarrassing.”
“You’re right. Ready, dude?”
“Always.”
X
Colin Wallis
The moon narrated the roller blading hero’s execution of the fantasy cyber-dog happening behind us.
That… That was not a sentence I expected to say. Or think. I put the thought out of mind. If I tried to make sense of every ridiculous thing that happened around Creed, I’d go insane long before I finished.
What mattered was that Uber and Leet were in the lead. They’d gone from third to first place, seemingly through good fortune alone. I glanced meaningfully at the ledge. The fall didn’t look that big…
“Don’t even think about it, Armsmaster,” Miss Militia said.
“I wasn’t going to,” I lied. Judging by the click of her tongue, poorly. “It was a passing fancy. This vehicle is not rated for falls on that level.”
“And what about lava?”
“Not that, either. This race presents… unique challenges.”
“That’s one way to put it. It’s fine. Just focus on the road ahead and we’ll catch up eventually.”
The craggy path was better than the snow and ice. With the press of a button, most of the studs decorating my winter tires folded in on themselves, forming a textured surface ideal for general road conditions. The rest rearranged themselves along preset grooves to maximize control and handling in mountainous terrain.
I smiled as my control immediately improved and the ride smoothed out. Dragon asked if this wasn’t a little excessive, but I’d added the tires just to be prepared. Though this dimension was certainly a surprise, I predicted they’d give me better mobility within Skidmark’s fields or if I needed to cut through the woods to secure victory.
The road widened a little. Rivers of lava flowed across it, those rivers in turn crossed by narrow, stone bridges. Fireballs floated up from the rivers in set patterns, leaping like dolphins to catch the unwary. On the mountainside, there were stone cannons shaped like dragon heads that belched streams of fire and more fireballs, periodically closing off sections of the road.
I’d give Creed this: It was a truly amazing sight. “Miss Militia, heavy ordinance is authorized.”
“Got it. I’ll take the cannons. You just focus on driving,” she replied. Building that sidecar for her had been a wise decision.
Her rifle shimmered in a shower of green light. It was soon replaced by a rocket-propelled grenade. She took a scant two seconds to aim before letting loose one after the other, her power simply conjuring a new rocket rather than having to reload manually.
She was an excellent shot. When it came to discipline or sheer number of practice hours put into the shooting range, there was no one who compared to the noctis cape. Each rocket found their mark, detonating the stone cannons and giving us a relatively clear path forward.
Yes, Uber and Leet were first for the moment, but luck was a fickle mistress. We’d catch up in short order.
X
Sabah Azimi
From last place, I saw the chain chomp explode ahead of me. It was a worrisome sight, especially since Bryce looked like he’d taken the blast full-on. He’d been launched into the mountainside before tumbling down into the lava.
“Creed? Creed? Are you okay?” I called. I had no idea what Sierra would do to me if she ever found out I let her baby brother get dunked in a river of lava, but I didn’t want to find out. “Please tell me you’re okay.”
“Ugh, I’m fine, Maven,” he said, voice coming out a bit slurred. “I can heal myself and the helmet’s sealed. The suit’s rated for everything short of Prometheus so we’re still good.”
My heartbeat settled. “H-How are you breathing in lava?”
“Transmuting carbon dioxide into oxygen in my helmet is doable. Thank Truth for Roy’s gas-fuckery. Annoying, though. I’m so glad I’m wearing both gloves.”
“Right…” Prometheus? Roy? I had no idea what he was talking about, but he was clearly fine. “That’s… That’s good. Then get out of there.”
“Just focus on the race, Maven. Don’t worry about me. I want to try something,” he said.
I recognized that tone. It was his mad scientist voice, the one he used when he introduced the zoan to me and Amy, or when he helped me build a doom laser that could shoot down comets from the ground.
More than anything, this was what really put me at ease. If Bryce was ready to do something stupid, then he was doing alright.
“Fine, whatever. You know you’re last right now, right?”
“For how long, though?”
“Ugh, just… just don’t destroy the world or something.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I cut off the comms to focus on the road. There were a lot of fireballs leaping out of the river. APEP’s hood emblem opened up again, revealing a laser beam I could toggle. It was just a bigger version of Creed’s multi-purpose raygun, really.
I decided to meet fire with fire and let the point defense system run wild. The target assist wasn’t as great as SAINT obviously, but big ol’ fireballs weren’t exactly subtle, either. I shot them out of the air and didn’t even slow down.
It was fantastic; I felt like I was in an action movie. The real trouble wasn’t the fire; it was the explosions. I wasn’t Uber or Squealer. I didn’t have power-assisted driving skills so I found the jostling hard to handle.
Soon, I caught up to the Merchants. They seemed to be having a rough time on this mountain. Skidmark’s fields, layered like pangolin scales, made their dump truck the most defensively capable in the race, Creed or APEP excluded.
That said, I’d read Creed’s notes. He hypothesized that those fields manipulated kinetic energy and kinetic energy only. They did nothing for thermal, or any other energy type. If I wanted them out of the race, I could just beam their truck into slag.
He was right. Squealer slowed down, probably to avoid overheating her engine. Mush was also busy using two, large cargo container doors as shields, slapping away at incoming fireballs. She saw me coming, called me a goat-fucking slut, then pressed a button.
A rancid oil spill spread out from below their truck. The thick, black substance flowed like tar, leaving a trail of slippery muck behind them. Then, a stray spark caught the edge of the spill and the whole thing promptly ignited, forming a wall of fire that traced the way Squealer zigzagged across the mountain road.
I couldn’t see anything. I rose into the air, but had to immediately lower my altitude lest I get swept away in the hurricane-force winds that surrounded the mountain again.
“Eep! Creed, how the hell do you fly here?” I yelped, plunging APEP down.
“You’ll notice I stopped flying,” he replied dryly from inside the river still. “Now hush, I’m thinking.”
“Are… Are you still in the lava?”
“Yes. It’s slow going, but I’m close to a breakthrough. Leave me alone, woman.”
“Fine, whatever,” I huffed.
I wanted to retaliate. I toggled the laser beam back to the freeze ray. Maybe taking them out of the race halfway through was poor form, but freezing the ground should be fine.
I fired, only for the ground to turn into lukewarm slush. I then received a message from APEP’s onboard assist that the temperature differential is too much to overcome without redirecting more of the soda engine’s power towards its laser.
I huffed and togged to missiles. Not muggy missiles, murder wasn’t allowed here, but I had plenty of regular explosives. Two cannons emerged from right above the headlights, taking aim.
Large explosions rocked the dump truck, but most of the kinetic energy was redirected away along with the shrapnel. Squealer learning to integrate her boyfriend’s power was the single most annoying thing I’d dealt with this week. Some of the plates were beginning to dent from repeated impacts so I at least knew they had limits.
As I passed her, Mush crashed his scrap fist into APEP’s side. It was enough weight to smack me down again. Just as well, piloting aircraft was a lot harder than driving.
She then screamed some more obscenities. Worse, Skidmark was audible from this distance. They crashed their dumpdozer into me and the kinetic fields shoved me behind them. It still wasn’t enough to do more than scuff APEP’s paint, but it was really annoying to drive through.
I had an idea. I fired a ball of goop at Squealer's windshield, making her swerve uncontrollably. She spun out behind me, yelling enough swears to make a sailor blush. I had a feeling I'd just become her least favorite person.
That distracted me long enough for a large fireball to detonate against APEP's side. It launched me into a wall, which now that I thought about it, was much preferable to going airborne again. Shrugging, I deployed the wheel spikes and kept driving. I should have done this earlier. I was still thinking like a normie when APEP's “all terrain” was so much more literal than that.
I hadn't cared too much about winning this thing, but I was having way too much fun to stop now.
Author’s Note
I decided Leet’s name is Kevin. No real reason why, I just felt like it.
Motorcycles do not use snow chains because they’re unsafe apparently. I don’t really get the physics, but most people use studded tires instead. Maybe someone who isn’t legally blind, and so has a reason to care about this more deeply, can say more on the subject.
Current Race Standings:
- Koopa King (Lucked into first.)
- ArmsCycle (Catching up quickly.)
- APEP (Having a blast.)
- Dumpdozer Mk. III (Gooped and pissed.)
- Creed (Taking a bath.)
They do this by scattering pheromones that cause defenders to panic. Even when a defense is mounted, they seem to be resistant to formic acid, which many ants use to defend themselves. These raids are sophisticated enough that they last only an hour and leave the victims enough larvae of their own to survive. After all, they’re a resource that can be harvested again and again.
Once the larvae are brought back to their colony, chemical cues are used to brainwash the larvae. This is so thorough that if a brainwashed slave ant encounters members of their own species, or even their own colony, in the wild, she will treat them as enemies.
Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. If you’re also like me, you can find my works on
Space Battles: https://forums.spacebattles.com/members/fabled-webs.514019/
Questionable Questing: https://questionablequesting.com/members/fabled-webs.29875/