"Well, isn't this wonderful?" Boolean muttered under his breath. Had he been alone, the sheer number of robots drawing bead on him might have mentally overwhelmed him into throwing down his staff and surrendering to the inevitable. But surrounded by (presumed) allies, and with an important mission to accomplish before he snuffed it, the feline was encouraged into making a stand, even if it could possibly be his last.
The 'foot-soldiers' seemed essentially identical -- mass-produced in a factory, most likely -- and perhaps technically inferior to Ghona. But one should never underestimate an armed enemy.
He sank to the ground with his companions to dodge the first volley of weapons fire. Definitely not smart, Boolean thought of the robots; since they'd surrounded the group in a circle, the crossfire conveniently took out the nearest few rows of the army. Not durable either, he added, observing that each downed robot exploded into a shower of fine parts, generally not leaving enough wreckage to noticeably clutter the already-treacherous footing of the junkpile beneath them.
He flew into action with his erstwhile comrades, vaulting into the air on his staff to avoid the second set of shots, and spinning the hollow metal rod to build up its momentum before he started introducing it to the SWATbots' dome heads. The pipe was a heavier weapon than he was used to, making it harder to handle, but he still used it to clear the robots left and right. A good hit to the head or chest seemed to be enough to explode the robots, and even when one couldn't get that close, it was relatively easy to knock a gun-arm's aim astray, or to topple a robot by sweeping a foot out from under it, or even to just move aside and let its clones take it out.
Most of his companions seemed to be faring equally well in the battle. The sheer numbers of robots would seem to dictate that they'd all be shot down soon enough, but everyone was able to dodge the beam bolts fired at them. Lycrios and Nightstrike zig-zagged erratically before striking; Aidan twisted and dodged like he was fighting a martial artist; Boolean was a blur; and Yume was faster still. Occasionally an observer would catch a still image of her in one place, driving a fist or foot into the gut of a SWATbot, only to be gone the next moment, the overall effect being as if her motion had been caught by the flashing of a strobe light. The newcomer, though perhaps not as fast, was making an impressive show of himself, shouting aspersions on the robots' ancestry and relations with farm animals all the while he swung his massive sword as if it had no mass, sending waves of them soaring into the air to land far behind their lines.
But the group couldn't keep this up forever. There were far too many robots to disable in one-on-one combat, and that wasn't even counting the squid-things lobbing hot explosives over their heads. Dozens of bits of interesting electronics sat in the feline's pockets, ready to be turned into a makeshift EMP or laser or something, anything that would even the odds. But there was no time to tinker on the battlefield.
From time to time, over the clash of metal against metal or the scream of servos being separated, Boolean thought he could hear a sort of foomp sound, followed by a crackle of explosions not unlike a holiday fireworks show. It sounded decidedly low-tech for their assailants to be using, but the feline couldn't spare the time to seek out its source. It took all his concentration to keep track of the robots that continued to bear down on them all, and all his impressive dexterity to keep out of harm's way. |