On my right, Mateo pulled out his sword while I considered my options. When Working Man told I couldn’t be the Rocket on this team, I’d put most of my work into my motorcycle and only a little into my costu.
On a practical level, that didn’t leave with much beyond strength to work with. I’d worked up a paralysis gun, but I doubted that vampiric waterlons would have a similar enough nervous system and brain to be affected by it.
That left physical attacks. I ran forward until I was just in front of one of the big ones, raised my right leg, and stomped downward with as much strength as I could.
The lon opened its mouth wide as my foot neared it and while a part of wanted to pull it away, I steeled myself for whatever pain might follow and tried to kick through to the street.
If the waterlon’s rind were any more protection than that of your average waterlon, I didn’t notice. Of course, I didn’t make a practice of stomping on waterlons in normal life or in training.
My foot broke off greenish-white teeth on the way down, crushing through to the red center of the lon all the way to the asphalt. The lon squird around my leg, trying to get away.
Not sure what else to do, I kept my right leg still and brought down my booted left foot on the left half of the lon, smashing it and leaving only rind and red waterlon slush.
Off to my right, Mateo slashed one of the larger waterlons in two, searing it, his blade glowing with white light. It fell limp on the ground.
Another bounded toward him across the ground with bounces that brought it higher with every bounce, the final one aid at his head. This was a big waterlon. I didn’t know how many pounds it was, but it could easily have been more than forty.
He hit it in the air, scorching the whole fruit and cutting it in half at the sa ti. It fell to the ground, dead (or undead?). Either way, it stopped moving.
I didn’t have ti either to appreciate his skill or the effectiveness of my brute force approach. Even as I tried to dodge it, two of the smaller waterlons hit , one in my stomach, the other to my face.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on . Report any occurrences.
I fell backward, hitting the asphalt. My costu took most of the impact. I felt the fall, felt losing my balance, and a dull pressure when I hit the ground.
That didn’t change the fact that having a waterlon open its body, enveloping the helt you’re wearing, blocking your view of anything but its red flesh dotted with black seeds, is disquieting. If that weren’t bad enough, I felt sothing enclose both of my legs at once, biting down on my shins and calf muscles at the sa ti.
At once I realized the obvious—one of the big ones must be trying to eat .
Despite a mont of fear that it might be able to get through my costu, I also grinned because I knew sothing the waterlon didn’t. I knew that I’d cheated a little when Working Man told not to put any Rocket tech into my equipnt. I hadn’t given myself a rocket pack, but I had given myself rocket boots.
They didn’t qualify as weapons normally, but in this situation, they did.
Before turning on the boots, I enabled one of my costu’s few features, making parts of it close to frictionless. Then I turned on the boots.
I felt the final chomp of the waterlon’s teeth against my legs and then felt it explode around them as I fired off a burst of fla and shot across the pavent, sliding off of the marketing firm’s parking lot and onto the church’s.
The initial burst of montum threw the one on my stomach off and good riddance, it had begun to jump up and down. The one on my head stayed on longer. I guessed that was because it covered about three-quarters of my helt and protruded in the front.
Whatever the reason, I knocked it sideways after I made it to the church’s property—which beca interesting for another reason. It hit the asphalt like butter hit a hot frying pan—frying, spattering, and finally burning.
The last embers burned out as I cut off power to the outer layer of my costu, allowing it to stop sliding. I pulled myself up to see Mateo bat one of the smaller ones onto the church’s parking lot with the flat of his sword—where it imdiately started burning.
I ran forward to join him, blocking one as it leaped for him and seeing him dispatch another with a slash.
With that, they were done. I didn’t know if we’d killed all of them or if a few had retreated, but they were gone.
I walked closer to Mateo to find him watching the one he’d thrown toward the church. It was still burning.
“Consecrated ground,” he said. “It isn’t very ecunical of , but it still surprises that a UCC church property counts.”
I looked over his clothes. They were clean. If any waterlon splattered onto him, it left no sign. Despite its period of near-perfect smoothness, my costu still had bits of waterlon on it—not to ntion seeds.
“I’m still surprised at how quickly you turned fruit ninja,” I said.
Mateo grinned under his mask, “Fruit swashbuckler.”
User Comments
0 comments from readers