Mask of Humanity

208: A Climactic Battle


'None can pass. In, or out,' spoke Vikrum with a widening grin and a glance around at the great dome shield that encased the two of them.

'Good,' said Nicolai, and attacked.

He and his enemy moved in mirror of one another. Two quick silver feather shields were activated, catching the bullets they exchanged in blasts of gunfire, assault rifle against assault rifle.

A golden shield sprang to life around Nicolai and he darted forward, continuing to fire as a golden shield formed, belatedly, around Vikrum.

His mind drew together, coiled tight as a spring, jagged and sparkling. All the Modules as one.

Vikrum launched everything, and Nicolai weaved through it as though by jets, the Blue Lightning crackling over him already at full charge, enhancing his movement.

The Golden Shield was around him, mirrored by the one around Vikrum. Both fired every weapon available at the enemy, assault rifles blaring.

Hunter-killer drones poured from cases around Vikrum, only to stutter and go off-course. Cyberwarfare had expected Vikrum would use this model of drone, the same as all the other Chosen Cyborgs. It had prepared a countermeasure, which was inserted into the navigation data the swarm of drones continually communicated to one another. The virus spread rapidly, and the drones fell from the air to clatter on the ground.

The shadows pulsed a warning, and Nicolai slipped to the side as Vikrum raised an arm, the single-use heavy cannon there activating. He was aiming more at the shield than Nicolai, but these shields could be controlled and Nicolai had his lurch sideways as he did, until it was only protecting a part of him, tucked to the side. In that same frantic moment he used the Repulsive Finger, shoving the round in the side. The round missed him by an inch and blew a hole in the wall behind.

The shield was back in place in time to block the spray of rounds from Vikrum's assault rifle, snapped back up into position in a millisecond.

And then they were close. Vikrum's magazine ran out of ammo and he let the weapon hang on its strap, kicking out at Nicolai, a blow that was caught by the shield but did significant damage, as much as any of those rounds.

Nicolai's return blows, launched by his far weaker arms and legs, moved with less speed and strength. But the damage his strikes caused Vikrum's shield was well above what one would expect, and he matched Vikrum blow for blow.

By striking with the Soul as well as the body, it was possible to damage these shields rapidly. A trick Vikrum hadn't mastered; a trick Nicolai believed few were aware of except for him. A trick he'd been practising.

Vikrum dashed away and Nicolai followed, using the Grasping Finger to keep up. He broke Vikrum's shield and resumed firing with his assault rifle, chewing now through Vikrum's Skin Shield, and he saw the man pulling out a golden feather.

Meanwhile, Nicolai's own shield was moments from breaking. At this moment he ought to backing up and reaching for a feather of his own, but he didn't. He stayed close and kept the pressure on. Vikrum threw a kick and Nicolai's shield broke apart.

He saw Vikrum's eyes widen as the man realised the opportunity, then the Cyborg lunged for him, giving up on the gold shield he'd been about to activate, even as Nicolai's rounds finished chewing through the man's Skin Shield. This was the moment the Cyborg had doubtless been waiting for. A collision of body-on-body, where there could only be one winner—and Vikrum's body was superior in every sense.

But Nicolai had awaited this moment, too. He'd timed the destruction of shields to create it. Here it was, his chance, clear as the moon on a cloudless night. An opening he felt more than saw, the instincts within him clutching tight, the frantic artificial voices whispering from behind.

Nicolai lunged to meet the Cyborg, skitter-scatter, and they were suddenly in range of one another's bodies. Vikrum was already reacting, coming around in a savage blur, the heat of danger turned a roaring fire, screaming and spitting in Nicolai's face. The Dark thought to rise, and somehow win in this moment.

Nicolai knew the truth. There is a fundamental difference in how fast flesh and blood can move compared to Level 3 Augmentations. Just like him, the Dark had a way to go before it could close that gap. He bound it as a Module, restrained it and kept his calculating edge.

This fight was never about winning, never about killing Vikrum. Even with all Nicolai had and all he was, a Level 3 Cyborg was a Level 3 Cyborg.

But Nicolai didn't have to kill Vikrum.

There came a single moment with a dozen actions folded into it, the blast of Blue Lightning struggling with Vikrum's resisting body—the Cyborg had worked out a way to counteract it—and then Nicolai was flying, spinning, launched tumbling through the air trailing blood behind him, and he'd lost something.

Nicolai fell, a ragged, bloodstained mess, toward the stone. To those watching he seemed like he might be dead. But when he hit the floor his body moved by pure muscular reflex, rolling and skidding and springing back to his feet. Ready.

No attack came. Vikrum remained where he was.

There was surprisingly no pain in Nicolai's shoulder, just an odd numbness and a sense of warmth as blood soaked his clothing, coming out in a stream. He absently activated the Blood Bite Ring, and the bloodloss stopped.

'I've got something of yours,' called out the Cyborg, shaking the lingering Blue Lightning away. Vikrum laughed, a huge and victorious grin on his face. He was unharmed from their collision, unmarred but for a spray of Nicolai's blood that traced a line over his cheek.

He held up his hand, and dangling from that hand was Nicolai's left arm. He turned it left and right. Nicolai watched, face blank, as his severed arm bent at the elbow, flopping around. Vikrum grinned at the sight of it, and Nicolai heard gasps from those who watched.

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The gasps drew his gaze, and he saw Jo, and Beth, and all the others. There was concern in Jo's eyes but one marred by a deep suspicion, a suspicion they all held, a suspicion which for some was a certainty. Maxine's gaze practically burned him, so intense was it.

The moment he'd entered this room he'd known it was over. Him and them. The Coalition. All of it. It hadn't come as much of a surprise. In truth, he was surprised it'd lasted as long as it had. His sanity had begun an increasingly rapid slip in these past few days. There were some blurry moments. He wasn't even sure where all the blood that covered him had come from. Perhaps he shouldn't have killed that Cultivator, but he'd needed the final Soul, needed to placate the Dark so he might stay cool and calm at this moment.

With all that he'd done, there was only been thing missing, only one remaining piece of the puzzle still outside of his grasp.

He felt a squirming in his hand and smiled. Until now, at any rate. He felt a strange pulse from his forehead, where the Angel's will had sunk. He wasn't sure what it did, exactly, but it settled around the thing in his hand.

'Oh dear. That's not meant to happen,' said Vikrum, pulling Nicolai's gaze back to him. 'Do you want it back?' the Cyborg held out Nicolai's severed limb, wearing an earnest expression.

Nicolai shrugged his remaining arm, reaching for a Rejuvenating Orb. 'You can keep it. Something to remember me by.'

Vikrum snorted, shook his head. 'Funny guy,' muttered the Cyborg, in a tone which held no amusement. He let out a sudden roar and slammed Nicolai's arm into the ground. Blood and gore sprayed as it burst on the stone. Vikrum stomped his foot, splatting the arm, then stomped again and again, turning it chunk-by-chunk into pulverised meat and bone. Vikrum lifted his foot, gazing at the blood coating his metal soles, then stepped forward toward Nicolai with a satisfied smile dancing over his face.

If Vikrum had hoped to upset him by destroying his arm, he had miscalculated. Nicolai felt nothing, and had made use of the time the Cyborg gave him to take a breath from one of his Rejuvenating Orbs. His shoulder itched as the ragged stump healed. His left arm was an acceptable loss; that's why he'd ensured it was the one to take the blow. His Mark, his hand Node, and his hand-talon, were all in his right hand.

However, he had lost his Sheltering Glove, which was still wrapped around the hand on his severed arm. Notably, Vikrum hadn't stepped on that—to Nicolai's eye it had looked like the man had purposefully avoided it. Likely Vikrum sensed it was Imbued with his Soul Sense, and was saving it to take after he'd killed Nicolai.

Nicolai settled down, cross-legged. He pulled out a silver feather with a single finger and thumb, his other fingers remaining in a fist, and after a moments focus and an injection of Oma, it activated. He pulled out a golden feather next. When it activated, it formed just outside of the silver feather.

Vikrum laughed. 'More hiding, huh? I suppose that's your only option. You understand now the difference between our bodies. I can break you easily, while you struggle to hurt me.' He smiled wide. 'No problem. I'll break these shields, too, and then I'll do to you as I did to your arm.'

Nicolai continued his effort, activating every single-use shield he had on him, one by one, creating layers like an onion.

Vikrum frowned at him, slowing as he saw the shields forming. 'What's this?' He laughed again. 'Are you just going to hide behind them all? What do you hope to accomplish? I thought you were smart… guess I was wrong.'

Vikrum still hadn't noticed that while he'd taken something from Nicolai in that blurring moment, so had Nicolai taken something from him. Nicolai spared the Cyborg a glance after activating his final golden feather.

The Cyborg let out an impatient snort and there came a thump as he dashed over the remaining metres and slammed a fist into the outermost shield. 'You think these will protect you?' he boomed. Another thump, and the external-most silver shield broke. 'I'll get through them in a few minutes!'

Finally, Nicolai looked at his right hand, opening his last three fingers which had held tight around something.

Resting on his palm was the Symbiote of Change.

He tucked it into a pocket and activated a Lotus Sub-Locum Flower, pouring Oma into it while drawing more from crystals.

Vikrum let out a gasp when he saw the Symbiote of Change. 'That's mine! That's my Symbiote! How did—when did—what?! Cornwall, how did he—' The words cut off with a snarl. 'You bastard. You thieving piece of shit. I'll fucking… what are doing in there!? You think that will protect you? What are you activating!?'

Nicolai was focused on the Locum Flower, feeding his Soul Sense and reserves of Oma into it. Vikrum's Soul Sense was able to come through the shields and it did so, attacking him.

'I'm not going to let you do whatever this is,' growled the Cyborg, pressing his hands and face against the shield like a kid against the glass window at a zoo, while his Soul Sense formed a sharp tip and lanced into Nicolai's own.

It glanced straight off as Nicolai absently switched his defence into the Heavy guard. The Loose and Heavy were all he could make use of, as he was focused on keeping his Soul Sense close and feeding it into the Locum Flower. His Soul Sense tendril was moving through that Flower and emerging… someplace else, moving through another dimension or layer of the world as it stretched out and away, towards the Locum Plant this Flower was connected to. It would take some time for it to arrive, and his Soul Sense, already weakened by the Soul rot, would continue to grow weaker and less able to defend itself as he fed it into the flower.

Though the Soul Rot had significantly shrunk his Soul Sense, while defending that didn't cause him too many problems—he had the defender's advantage. As such, currently, Vikrum's Soul Sense attacks could be compared to a toddler kicking him repeatedly in the shin. Annoying, but they weren't going to do any damage. But toward the end of the process Nicolai's Soul Sense would grow very weak, as the vast majority would by then be fed into the Locum Flower.

At that stage, Vikrum would likely be able to interfere with what Nicolai was doing; simply breaking his Soul Sense should do the trick. On top of that, the process was slow. Vikrum may be able to chew through his shields before he completed it. That would be very bad, because though spiritually Nicolai still had an edge over Vikrum, physically it was the reverse.

This was therefore a losing position. On the outside he looked relaxed, confident, and as though he fully expected to get away. As though Vikrum could do nothing to him.

This was in line with Sun Tzu's ever relevant advice: When you are weak, look strong. When you are strong, look weak.

As Vikrum snarled and smashed at the shields, Nicolai considered the options available to him while continuing the activation of the flower. Vikrum's latest Soul Sense attack, a crushing blow, rebounded harmlessly as his Soul Sense flashed from Heavy to Loose.

He did not speed the activation process up because it could not be sped up; it had an amount of time it took and that was that. From previous uses, Nicolai knew this to be about five minutes.

He had kept his head tilted down, hiding his eyes from Vikrum. Now he slipped those eyes to the side, glancing through the layers of shields. The outermost of his shields, a gold, was filling with cracks. It would break soon—thirty to fifty seconds, most likely. Then there were four more silvers and one more gold.

Scanning over the stone, he saw the remnants of his arm; a mangled, crushed explosion of flesh and bone that had once been a part of him. That would be him if these shields broke. His eyes continued on. He saw Gilvine and Borg, outside the big and doubtless very difficult to break dome shield. He considered Gilvine carefully, guessing at her thoughts. He'd felt leaving her alive could be of use, but it had always been a gamble. Nothing was ever certain; he simply liked to leave himself options because you never knew how the cards may fall.

He smiled internally when he saw what he'd hoped for, reading it from her subtle repositioning, and from the way half her cameras were fixed on Vikrum and the other half on Borg beside her, plus the hand she kept kept ready. A hand attached to her original arm, not the replacement. A hand he knew concealed a vibro-knife.

He'd found a way to buy himself the time he needed.

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