Brash the Dragon and the Schrodinger SnareChapter 10
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Brash The Dragon And The Schrodinger SnareChapter 9 free porn video
The first thing I did once I was out of the medical bay was sprint forward, extrude my a cybernetic access spike, and smash it, knuckle first, into the nearest computer access port. Before you ask ‘hey, Brash, how do you get so awesome?’ the answer is I look up to my parents and work out my awesome muscles a lot. But if you ask the slightly more pertinent question of ‘hey, didn’t the evil jerk Dr. Palladium shut down your shapeshifting with her wrist computer after she extracted those evil spores?’, well! The answer to that question is quite simple: This is cybernetics, not shapeshifting. I still had the metal bits.
Checkmate, atheists.
As my arm started to buzz and my head computer started to whirr and click and chitter, P90 came up behind me. Her psi-sword hummed as she stood with her back to mine, looking up and down the iron clad, pipe strewn, grated floored corridor of the Cyber-Beholder’s flagship.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Getting some background music,” I said, my eyes closing. In my head, the schematic of the ship bloomed into being as I sliced past firewalls and security. Okay, it seemed everyone here was on Retro Renday, which wasn’t even a day. Because this ship was a spelljammer. It wasn’t a slipstream capable ship, like 90% of what everything did these days. That meant that rather than soaring through subspace, we were currently soaring through the Phlostg ... ph ... phe...
The explody chaos space dimension! That one!
But what was more, this wasn’t just any old spelljammer. It was a gods be damned Beholder Doomship.
So, ever seen Star...
That was a dumb question.
A Beholder Doomship is what happens if you take an Imperial Star Destroyer (specifically, the Imperial-I SD, built in the Kuat Drive Yards by the order of Grand Moff Tarkin as part of the Tarkin Doctrine. Now, just saying, but the Star Destroyer is just one example of Tarkin’s overall shitty strategic grasp of the galactic situation post Jedi-Purge. Seriously, they put him in charge of the Death Star project and not Thrawn? Well, I guess that was because Thrawn-
“BRASH!” P90 shouted.
“What?” I blinked, jerking my access spike free and retracting it between my knuckles. “Oh, sorry. We’re on a Doomship.” I nodded. At P90’s expression, I grinned. “Hey, it’ll mean we have more asses to kick! And we’re in our ass kicking boots.”
“Neither of us have shoes, Brash,” P90 said.
“Exactly!” I said, then turned. “Come on! I know the way to the command spire!”
And as I sprinted, I snapped my fingers – and set off the little program I had put into the computers before I had disconnected. Now, you may be asking if I had any more rad-ass abilities that I had forgotten to mention, now that we’re adding uber-hacker extraordinaire. But the sad truth is I’m not actually an uber-hacker. All my hack abilities (hackbilities?) are just based off old worms and trojans and other sneaky beak computer wiz-bangs stuck into my head computer back when I had been moonlighting as a superweapon rather than a superhero. I had just used those. And I knew that the really important parts of a ship would be under fierce lock and key, so I didn’t even bother to try to get at the gravity, or to turn off the disintegration cannons, or to vent the atmosphere or anything.
Plus, like, venting the atmosphere was a huge donk move. Seriously.
So, instead, I did access the one thing I did know wasn’t super well guarded.
Which is why the ceiling lights started to alternate purple and red as a pulsing beat started to throb out and one of the greatest singers of the age began to belt off one of his best songs ever. I grinned, fiercely, as I rounded a corner and threw myself into a leap. It lacked my flight kicker or my super-strength, but I was still plenty strong enough to bring my knee into the face of an inattentive Orctrooper who was looking around in confusion. His tusked helmet rocked up against his snout and he went sprawling.
“What the fuck song is this?” P90 asked.
I stood up, slashing out with my psi-sword, cutting the other Orctrooper’s rifle in half. P90 punched him in the throat.
“Dare to be stupid!” I sang along with the chorus.
In the medical laboratory of Dr. Palladium, the good doctor was feeling rather cross. She was restrained by her own medical table after being captured by her own creation. And not even for the first time in her life. Being a drider, she had a life expectancy of weeks, but that was more a factor of drowish society than the actual biological factors of being a drider. She herself had survived almost two centuries of her existence as a Lloth damned wretch, and that time had involved more than a few sticky situations. Being chased by her own sentient gelatinous cube. Being almost eaten alive by a genetically engineered squid. And, lets not even think on her short dabbling with necromancy. She had survived all of that and was in no mood to give up today.
Still.
She had to take a few moments to consider the situation – ignoring the sudden music filling her room. And there it was! On the laboratory, next to the vial of hardened diamondplast that contained the exceptionally virulent spores of the mind controlling, machine subverting hive-mind known as the Beast, was the controls to her restraints. A sleek remote, that she just needed to get into her hands.
Slowly, Dr. Palladium started to reach out one spindly spider-leg.
We had gotten to the elevator and on from Weird Al to Nightcore when the security systems of the Doomship finally were roused and set to blasterate. Several ceiling panels swung around with whirrs and clicks. Now we had double barreled laser blasters aimed at me and P90, angling down from the ceiling itself. I flung myself to the left and P90 flung herself to the right, the two of us rolling as laser blasts started to hiss and crackle. The smell of ozone filled the corridor but before I could figure out a cunning strategem, P90 snapped her arm up and started to fill the air with plasma fire. The orcish pistol she had stolen was mostly made of chunks and spikes, but despite that, it still managed to keep up a pretty dang impressive level of firepower.
Soon, the laser blasters were so much smoldering metal and plastic and I grinned at P90. She stood up, lowering her pistol as she did so.
I golf clapped.
The elevator doors opened and we found ourselves facing down at least twenty Orctroopers. Several of them had very heavy looking weapons, but most of them were holding crystalline sabers and pistols. I grinned and hefted up my sword. “Lets do this!” I said, then ran forward as the Nightcore went from one of the slower, sadder Nightcores to the faster, more peppy Nightcores. Basically, Nightcore, if you didn’t know, was an artist who made techno-songs that were almost exactly like other songs, save that their youtube videos were just sexy anime girls rather than the band. I think that Nightcore was either super shy and didn’t want to show off their real face, or Nightcore was an anime! Which was just logic...
Still!
Fast music for fast sword-work. I charged towards the white clad orcish troopers, holding my sword in a two handed grip. One rushed at me with an overhanded swing. I caught it on the cross-guard of my crackling red blade, then kicked him in the junk. His armor’s cod-piece caught the blow, but it still staggered him enough to set him into the path of one of his friends. Then I parried twice, sparks flying as psi-sword met crystal blade. The orcs were clearly not the best swordsman, but they were making up for it with sheer numbers. Or maybe I should say making down for it, because they did keep getting into one another’s ways. This prevented their big guns from firing, and meant only so many could get at me. And since P90 had helpfully put her back to mine, no one got a flank going.
So, as the music pounded and the ceiling lights shifted color in time with the beat, I focused purely on the mechanics of sword blocks, slashes, thrusts, kicks, dodges and weaves. I struck for joints, sending up sizzling sprays of molten armor and causing orcs to cry out in pain as their limbs went from ‘look at me, I’m an ordinary orc bit!’ to ‘auuuh, a laser-sword has cut me, ow, I need to lie down and have ice cream.’
This meant that orcs had to keep staggering back into the crowd, to make way for unslashed buddies. Which was exactly what I wanted! Since, I mean, I was a super-strong, super tough, shapeshifting psychic dragon wizard. I didn’t think that I needed to kill anyone.
Which was just about when one of the orcs got a lucky strike in. It slipped past my guard and stabbed into my gut and I remembered. Right. I didn’t have shapeshifting. Or teleporting. Or super-strength. Or, uh, any spells memorized that might be helpful right now. I winced as I used my elbow to shove the sword away, then struck back, severing two fingers off the orc’s hand. He dropped his sword with a cry.
“Brash!” P90 spoke over a grunt, her own blade crackling as she parried, blocked, slashed. “Breathe!”
“I am breath-” I mentally kicked my own tail. “Right.”
I breathed in.
And every single orc before me sprinted to the sides, screaming and crying out in fear. They knocked one another over, shoved past injured people, even stepped on those that fell. But this did mean I suddenly had a nice, clear way to the elevator. I grabbed onto P90 and yanked her after me, sprinting into the elevator. This orcs with the big heavy guns swung those around to aim at us. Since they had been at the edge of the fight, they clearly wanted to take advantage of the now clear lines of fire.
So!
I breathed lightning at them. One of the dragon genetic sequences that made up my body included blue dragons, so the lightning bolt was a huge, crackling spear of pure energy that shot over the heads of the cowering orcs, between the two heavy gunners, and into the wall at the far end of the corridor. It didn’t hit anyone, but it did fill each of their eyeballs with a blinding, brilliant light. They staggered away from it, clutching their gauntleted hands over their faces, and I stuck my tongue out at them as the elevator doors whirred shut.
And we were off!
“You missed!” P90 said, rubbing at her ears. “Also, that was loud.”
“They reaped the sparkles. I brought down the super accurate dragon breath,” I said, my voice raspy. “Ow.” I rubbed at my throat.
“You missed!” P90 said, again.
“I was aiming for the not them!” I said.
“They’re orcs!” P90 exclaimed. “Working for the man who force fed your wife to a lich!”
I held up my finger. “Firstly. Racist. Secondly, Alex is fine.”
P90 goggled at me.
“Seriously!” I said, cheerfully. “She’s the daughter of the Primogen of the Tremere. Tremere. Do you know how they freaking got their blood magic?” I said.
P90 blinked. “They have blood magic?”
“Basically, at a dramatic moment, the drowish frigate is going to come smashing through a wall and Alex is going to stomp out, licking her fingers, and go, ‘diablerie, bitches!’” I said, spreading out my hands. “I bet you ten whole gold coins on it.” I paused. “Silver coins! Ten whole silver coins!”
“What the fuck is a diablerie!?” P90 shouted.
The elevator shuddered to a halt. I looked up, frowning. P90 didn’t bother looking up. She just thrust her psi-sword into the ceiling and slashed it in a quick circle. She stepped aside as the circle of metal dropped into the elevator. Then she slung her arm around me, thrust her pistol over her head and pulled the trigger. It turns out that one of the metal spikes was a grappling hook! The cable unspooled with a whirr and the elevator dropped past us with a woosh and a distant crrrrungh! I clung to P90 as she grinned at me, then flicked her thumb against the pistol, which started to retract the cable with a churr and up we went.
“I want one!” I said.
“Back pocket,” P90 said, jerking her head.
I reached back and squeezed her cute butt. P90 made a quiet grunt. “That’s my butt, Brash.” I reached around more. “Still my butt.” I snickered, then squeezed a bit more. “Come on, Brash!”
“Got it!” I said, pulling the second plasma pistol free.
We reached the top of the elevator shaft. The door there was open and an orc was mounted behind what looked like a heavy laser cannon on a pintle. I immediately lifted my pistol and shot him in the chest. With the grappling hook, of course, I’m not a psycho! The hook smashed into the chest piece, sending him staggering backwards and away from the heavy laser cannon. He clutched at the spike, trying to yank it from the armoplast, but I was already retracting myself. His feet skidded on the ground as I flew right at him, and my elbow went right into his throat. He groaned as he went sprawling, even as P90 swung down to land next to me. She parried a sword before it could split my head and I came up fighting.
Four orctroopers and several cool punchy kick moves later, the both of us were sprinting down the corridor, heading towards the bridge, which loomed before us.
“Hey, you don’t think this is a bit easy, do you?” P90 asked as we started up the stairs.
“Or we’re awesome!” I said as the music shut off and we emerged onto the bridge proper.
Lord Darkeye, the Cyber-Beholder, stood at the top of a pyramid of steps that was situated right in the middle of the bridge. The floor was smooth matte black, reflective enough to show me and P90 when I looked down. The ceiling had thin holes in it that let down stabbing yellow beams of light. The front of the bridge showed a curved window that showed the Phlogiston beyond. So, basically, the Phlogiston was a big rainbow mess of colors, mashed up and swirling together, endlessly moving and shuddering and mixing without ever quite blending. Like oil and water.
It was breathable, despite not looking like it. The only problem, though, was that it was super flammable. Why, if even a tiny bit got into the ship, it could explode super big with a single spark. Heck, if lots of it got in, the ship would go up like a bomb made of explosions made of smaller bombs.
Flanking the command pyramid were those red clad orc guards.
“Hi Darkeye!” I said, waving at him with my free hand. P90, meanwhile, was shifting into a combat position.
“Greetings,” Lord Darkeye said, his voice low and echoing. “You are quite an annoying little dragon.”
“Pff, my dick is way bigger than yours,” I said, scoffing.
“I ... what!?” Lord Darkeye spluttered.
“He’s just like this,” P90 said, grinning at me.
“Quiet, woman,” Lord Darkeye snapped.
“Hey, her name is P90!” I said, stepping forward.
“Her name is irrelevant,” Lord Darkeye growled, his legs whirring and clicking as he started to stand more taller, straightening his digigrade leg. His eye swiveled down to glare at us, balefully. Man, baleful is such a great word. It fit the situation well. I grinned, slowly as he continued to speak. “You think that you’ve gotten close to escaping, don’t you? You just need to beat me, then turn this ship around, then do whatever the hell you want?” He chuckled, then stomped one of his feet. “No, Brash the Dragon. You’re here so that I can use you. I’d have preferred to have you brought to the bridge in chains. But if you simply need to be slashed into unconsciousness ... then so be it.”
Lord Darkeye lifted one cybernetic arm.
He dropped it.
And then I remembered something super duper important about Beholders.
They could hover.
The floor vanished. All of it, save for the pyramid, which was now the cap of a very tall spire, reaching down into an infinite blackness, though I was sure the blackness was spikes and lasers and crocodiles. I started to drop with P90, but both of us fired our guns up into the ceiling. The grappling hooks clunked home as the door swung shut behind us. I grinned slowly as the Praetorian Guards started to zoom towards us – their feet humming, leaving behind shimmering tracks of blue energy. I saw their legs sweeping, making familiar push-push movements.
“They have gravity-blades!” P90 snarled. “Shit shit shit.”
“Ohhhhh lets rock!” I said, then sent the mental signal to start playing some more music through the PA. Specifically, Timber by Nightcore. Cause it was about going down. Like these jerkbags were going too. So, I swung my legs back, then swung myself forward, even as one of the red clad Guard shot up at me. Unlike the run of the mill Orctroops, he had not only gravity roller blades and a sick rad cape. No, he also had a long polearm, tipped with a crackling energy blade. I slashed my sword up. Psi-blade and polearm met with a flare of sparks, then sent me spinning around and around, the grappling hook groaning as the cable started to cord up like a spring. This spinning brought me around to meet another Guard who was skating nearly perpendicularly to me, holding a pair of whirring energy tonfa.
We exchanged a flurry of blows as he swung the tonfa in a glittering pair of concentric, interlacing circles. Red and green energy crackled and snapped – but each impact of blade to tonfa sent me swinging back on a pendulum’s course. Like a clock on a pitching sailing ship. I used this momentum, flinging myself into a curving arc so that my feet smashed into the side of a Guard who had locked energy knives to P90’s green psi-sword. As the Guard staggered, his skates lost their bite and he started to plunge. About a dozen feet down, he managed to get his feet under him and started to skate in a curving arc. It was clearly pretty dang hard to gain height.
“It’s hard to go up!” I shouted to P90, beaming at her.
“You’re having fun, aren’t you?” She shouted back.
“Sure am!” I said. I swung, then jerked hard on the pistol. The grappling hook snapped free and for a few moments, I was entirely parabolic. I flipped myself up and around, slashing downward at the Guard with the polearm. He thrust up at me, and I used the contact to fling myself a few feet closer to the wall. I spun, fired, and hit the wall with my grappling hook. I retracted the hook, flung myself at the wall, planted my feet, then locked swords with a skating Guard who came at me with a huge energy cutlass. I grinned as our blades locked and he started to press back. But I was able to brace on the wall and use gravity to push against him – while he had to do a little jittering jig to keep himself from losing height. Finally, he swore and started to skate backwards. I dropped, then fired at the ceiling above his head. This let me swing past him. I kicked out hard, and my foot smashed into his knee. It twisted and he fell, then fell as his skates stopped biting. As he tumbled, I started to cord up my cable again, spinning around and around and around.
“Wheee!” I laughed.
We’re going down! I’m yelling Timber!
I jerked my grappling hook free, retracted it, fell, fired, swung, and flashed past P90 just in time to swing my blade in a curving twist that caught onto the crackling energy whip of one of the guards before he could slice off P90s arm. The whip wrapped around and around and around my psi-sword and I jerked my grappling hook free. Now, I was swinging from the orc, which tugged him off balance. He could let go of his weapon, but instead, he tried to hold on.
Big. Mistake.
His skates stopped being skating.
And we both started to fall.
He let go of his weapon then, grabbing at my arm with one hand, then at my wrist with his other. He held my psi-sword above my head. And here was when I’d grow a third arm and sock him in the jaw!
... right!
No shapeshifting. Buggergar!
We fell into darkness.
The orc smashed his head into my head. The Guard helmet was very tough, and it sent a flare of pain through my brain as the red hit my skin. I shook my head and scowled, then opened my palm. My psi-sword vanished as I no longer maintained it. Without the humming blade aimed at his head, he relaxed his grip slightly on my wrist, readying to shift his grip. I jerked my wrist free, then grabbed at his belt. I found the buckle and yanked it. His armor started to rattle slightly, wind blowing between his skin and the armor plating. This jerked his arms up and let me shimmy down him to his shoes. I yanked one off.
He kicked me in the chest with the other. I went flying away from him in the free-fall we were both plunging in. As I tumbled in the open air, I brought my pistol up, sighted with my HUD, and fired. The grappling spike (hook was kind of an inaccurate term, now that I thought about it) shot into the gap between the gravity-blade and the rest of the skate. I yanked back and fished it right off his foot. The orc shouted something very rude at me in orcish as I started to slide my feet into the gravity boots.
Below me, I could see the bottom of the pit. It was full of water and trash. The orc who had dropped down here before was swimming towards an exit ladder. I got my feet under me and almost broke both of my knees as the gravity-skates kicked on. Then it was as easy as remembering how to roller blade. And just like biking and fucking, you never forget how to roller blade. My feet started to skid along the air as I pushed with my legs. And just as I had expected, going up was hard. My thighs started to burn, but I gritted my teeth.
I just need to get into range.
There!
I fired my grappling hook straight up, then triggered the retraction. I shot up the line and came back to the battle. P90 was spinning in place, slashing wildly with her psi-sword to try and keep the remaining guard at bay. She was doing a good job, despite being outnumbered four to one by orcs on flying roller skates. But then I was there. I let go of my pistol at the apex of my ascent, which sent me flying up in a slight arc. Then I hit the air skating, leaving behind shimmering blue contrails as I skated right at the swirling melee.
“Foooooore!” I shouted.
And I shifted my psi-sword’s shape. Cutting to bashing. Heat to concussion.
Blade to blade.
And I swept the legs out from underneath the Guard with the polearm with a perfect slapshot in a game of ice tennis. My ice tennis stick caught his calves and he flipped head over heels all the way down into the trash pit. As he fell, I grinned and then skated hard to the left, actually swinging my legs up so that I skimmed along the wall. I came back at the three remaining Guards, who were all spacing out to come at me. One had those energy tonfas. One of them had the cutlass. The last one had, last time I checked, two energy knives. Well, he was down to one thanks to P90’s awesomeness.
I turned my skate into a skid, which meant I came to an immediate stop. Moments before I fell, I swung my ice tennis racket right at the face of the Guard with the single knife. He ducked – which meant that I was able to grab onto his shoulders as I dropped from the air. This brought him into a headward fall. I kicked off of him, got my skates under me, and skated away as the last two tried to come around to me. I deliberately bled off speed – giving my aching thighs some rest – and let the two skaters come closer and closer and-
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