Get in Line, Oppenheimer 5

The eye’s fine, by the way. I had the suit release some of its internal nanomachines that I use for rapid regeneration and cosmetic surgery. It pays to keep the Wanted posters guessing. And by now I have a really good handle on the pain I feel. If I couldn’t survive missing an eye, I’d have never made it to puberty.

Not that they could fix up that eye anyway. I’ve had my eyes replaced with cybernetic replacements for a long time. HUD, video playback, enhanced vision modes, zoom, and enhanced reality. Pretty fly for a fake eye.

The video playback comes in handy in helping me keep track of how I was brought to the bridge, but I have to keep it running on my one remaining eye while I head a little deeper into the ship. I need to find whatever powers this thing and destroy it. I’m not sure what state their central mainframe is in, or even if they have one, so I think the next best thing is to just explode everything in Engineering.

It was chaotic just finding a lift. There were crossfires all over the place. I saw men and women in body armor with rifles firing wildly and popping off grenades at the space marines and doing decent enough damage. Some even had light machineguns that auto tracked on their alternate continuity counterparts. My ass nearly got burned off by a flamethrower when I hit the stealth and pressed against the wall as they passed by. One of them caught me on his motion detector when I made my move and another panicked. He was shooting everywhere but at me though while shouting about “They’re coming out of the walls! Game over man!”

Some guys just can’t handle pressure. Not like me. I called that lift, the door opened, and inside was an angry quartet of Adepticus marines with chainsaw weapons. They must have given up on carrying gnus around. I charged up my gloves and leapt straight into them, cracking the armor of one of them with a discharge of energy. One of his squadmates tried to save him from my painful discharge with a swipe of his chainsaw shillelagh. It cut into his friend pretty well.

I didn’t have time to enjoy the blood spray because one of the other two took a swipe at me with chainsaw-chuks. He missed and cut half his hand off upon trying to catch them again.

The last one chewed up my abdomen with the help of his chainsaw nightstick. As it chewed through my belly, I was struck with a case of sudden acute Tourette’s Syndrome and I spoke with him briefly on a range of subjects involving his mother’s profession, whether she was married to his father, and what part of the body I thought he was most like. Then I unleashed an energy punch on his neck and heard a satisfying crack. It came just in time too.

I stumbled around the other direction to find the shillelagh wielder had pulled his weapon loose of his late squadmate. He took another go at me, but I grabbed him by the hand while more nanites flooded out into my gut. I couldn’t keep on my legs, however. As I fell, I directed the chainsaw shillelagh into the helmet of the marine who wasn’t trained in how to handle a nunchuk. At last, something to shut up the guy with the hurt hand.

Not like I could hear him anyway over my repeated recitation of the 7 words you can’t say on television.

That still left me one last marine to deal with, but the door opened and saved me a lot of time. No one had hit a button, so some slightly inconvenienced men stood outside the elevator, guns aimed inside at us. If they hadn’t shot up the other guy, I’d have thought they were allies. The armor was very similar, but these new marines had personalized touched all over their armor. Love and Hate, Call for a Good Time, the Koprulu will rise again. Their helmets were also full on visors rather than vaguely humanoid.

Nice folks. They popped the visors and shared a beer and a joint on the way down before I got off.

The plan didn’t hit me until just after the doors closed on the lift at Engineering. Some crazy bastard rigged up a source of energy for those space marine suits and a good rule of thumb is that anything providing power can be used as a weapon. It just means I will have to find it in my heart to slaughter more hapless Adepticus space marines. Oh whatever shall I do?

First thing’s first, sit down and wait for my gut to finish healing. In desperate situations the intestine makes a fine strangulation device, but it’s not one I want to rely on, especially not my own for thrice.

Before I finished healing I was forced to take cover behind some crates in a workshop looking area. I heard fighting nearby, and my suit’s stealth capabilities are reduced when damaged. The sounds of overzealous high tech crusaders were soon drowned out by a shotgun and then some sort of odd fizzing noises. Then a man jumps over the crate to land beside me in a bloody heap.

Green pants, green shirt, grey helmet with a visor. He’s got double barrel in one hand and what I can only call a big fucking gun in the other. He eyes me, but lets go of the shotgun long enough to unstrap a medical kit off his leg. He doesn’t say anything, just grunts.

“Yo, sup?” I ask him. He doesn’t answer. “I’m no space marine, I just wanted to fight and humiliate them in some small way, nawmean?” Curses, not even my funky white boy homie speak can crack him. It’s like he’s mute or something.

Lasers burned into the wall opposite us, meaning that at least one of the Adepticus types had remembered they were from the future. I held out a hand towards the wounded man next to me, “May I?” He reluctantly handed me the big fucking gun.

I stood and quickly spotted the offending group of Adepticus marines who were nice and piled up near a set of barrels. They helped me drop a few pounds with their lasers before I could fire, but I got a shot off. The gun fired a bright green burst that struck one of the barrels. For a moment I thought it would do nothing, but then it exploded out in pale green light, the barrels exploding on their own as well. The enemy marines seemed to shimmer brightly as the effect washed over them. The flesh of those without helmets disappeared in that shimmer even as they and their comrades burst open at the torso, blood flying out and dissolving in midair before they crumpled to the ground.

“Heh..hehehe, hahahaha, HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW!”

The healed up marine stood up next to me and yanked the gun out of my grip, breaking my train of laughter.

Awww.

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8 thoughts on “Get in Line, Oppenheimer 5

  1. ShawnMorgan

    Some of those marines were real Hicks they should’ve stayed professional and kept their Hudson. ah well, at least it’s one of Ripley’s believe it or not eh?

    Reply
  2. Pingback: Get in Line, Oppenheimer 4 | World Domination in Retrospect

  3. Pingback: Get in Line, Oppenheimer 6 | World Domination in Retrospect

    1. Psycho Gecko Post author

      Don’t know how I missed it. I guess I need some sort of cybernetic scanner thingy covering my eyes to help me out with this kinda thing.

      Reply

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