Eye of a Boy: Blood Wars

Robert Cousins was an ordinary, adolescent pupil at St. Joseph's High School until he encountered a malevolent Hell-hound on a mission to slaughter two innocent men. Or so he thought. With him and his friend's gaining powers by the day, will he be able to scrape a victory at the eleventh hour?

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10. 'Friday'

 

 

“How the heck did you find me?” accused Sniffer violently. “This place is hidden by various enchantments conjured by the warlock known as Isincore.”

“The information disclosed is incorrect,” Delta contradicted placidly.  “The last sorcerer to venture to this area in the last decade has been Sisi. These foundations were constructed less than three years ago.”

    Robert was once more incapacitated by the loss of banter he could provide for the conversation; instead of contributing, he was forced to watch the verbal conflict unfold.

“So you’re the new kid on the block?” Sniffer acknowledged the Artificial Intelligence’s presence. “A computerised killing machine with no remorse for its victims – seems like Alpha really does want me disposed of!”

“Your demise would prove mandatory for the campaign,” Delta informed Sniffer, releasing no obvious signs of emotion. “After all…”

    Iota brutally dug his elbow into Delta’s gut. It did not provide the equivalent effect that it would have on a Homo Sapien but it still caused Delta to wheeze in pain. A measly few flecks of blood spurted out of his gasping mouth.

“The boss will set Mr. Muscles on you if you go around informing the enemy of our ideals and schemes,” threatened Iota whilst quavering at the thought of meeting his end at the hands of his backstabbing comrades. “That’s the last thing we need!”

“We’re still here, you know,” Sniffer was using his witty comments to mask the fact that he was gradually reaching for anything near enough to a hazardous object. “Or have you forget the primary cause of your arrival and you desperately want to tackle me in a game of Scrabble?”

    That was the straw that broke the Camel’s back.

    In a whirl of frenzy, Iota lunged at Sniffer. But the Minotaur had already managed to grasp an object protruding from one of his sealed files. Blindly, he struck, wishing that it would find home.

    But Iota was not threatened by the enlarged paper clip that Sniffer had clasped in his fist. A rapid blow to Sniffer’s groin met the empty threat. In retaliation, Sniffer sent his clenched fist buffeting into Iota’s contorted face.

    Instinctively, Robert began to flee from the scene. Maybe he could recruit assistance from his fellow geeks. But it dawned on him that the only people of assistance would be Eve and Ben – they were the only ones that were certainly gifted with the uncanny power of mutating their average bodies into something grotesque. But his desire for assistance was obstructed by the fact he did not want to endanger his friends.

His death would go amiss for a short period of time because his acquaintances would believe he had taken a premature exit and they would not hear his echoing screams due to the broad flooring. In other words, he was screwed.

“What are you waiting for you insolent fool?” berated Iota as he grappled with Sniffer. “Ensure that the boy doesn’t escape!”

“My protocols are the collection of valuable information and the brutal murder of this Minotaur,” recalled Delta. “None of them mention murdering a juvenile.”

“But they do say that you must decapitate the Cyclops!” pointed out Iota, just as Sniffer managed to land a roundhouse kick into his throat. “That child is merely the human form of the Canine Killer!”

    As the confrontation ensued, Robert managed to stagger over to where Sniffer stored his array of weapons. Robert was bewildered at the categorisation of the deadly forces – they were allocated by reverse alphabetical order.

    Without enough time to make a definitive choice based on aesthetics and craftsmanship, Robert snatched a Katana that was erecting from Rack 7.

    Already Delta had begun to advance upon Robert. He began to feel enveloped by a surge of power but Robert certainly doubted that the transformation would occur swift enough to salvage him from an imminent, grisly demise.

    Therefore, Robert attempted to take a more sentimental approach.

“Where you ever victimised?” Robert delved into the AI’s cryptic past.

“Sorry,” apologised Delta as if he had committed an act of arson or petty theft. “But that terminology does not compute. Emotions do not compute. Emphasise your point so that I can contemplate the meaning of this enigma.”

    Robert was vaguely amused by the antagonists’ lack of displayed internal thoughts.

“Well,” explained Robert therapeutically. “Most reluctant murders have a sob story behind their usually unreasonable actions. I was just assuming you were a victim of torture that penetrated you mentally or scarred you physically. What did people call you – Robot Brain or Artificial Idiot?”

    As Delta was just about to return that quote with a synthetic retort, Robert, wielding the Katana, sent a thrust spiralling into the AI’s imitation of a human chest. For a moment, Delta just stared in bewilderment at the blood seeping out of his internal organs.

    Then he crumpled to the floor. Dead.

“When the heck am I going to pull a Mr. Hyde?” screeched Robert over the clamour of the conflicting monsters. He was desperately trying not to register the fact that he had taken the life of an apparent human – however pseudo that being was.

“The transformations can occur at various points in time,” informed Arnold, just as he was delivering an earth shattering kick into the Satyr’s crotch. “Based on the Jeremiah’s hypothesis, the precise range between the current time and the last incursion plus the fact that we’re are underground – many Cyclops have been diagnosed with Agoraphobia – then you will not ‘hulk out’ for the next three hours.”

    To coincide with Arnold’s rational fears, Delta began to stagger to his feet. It was clear that the sword of Japanese origin did not inflict any pain upon men with USB ports located within their cranium.

“What is the fricken point in being a superhero if you can’t use your own powers?” questioned Robert as Delta launched his mutilated body at him.

“The spandex?” suggested Sniffer as he finally regained control of the brawl. All it took to bring an end to the Satyr was two blows in quick succession to his protruding chin. “Or is it the smoking hot ladies?”

    But Robert could not hear his jocular acquaintance over the low whiny echoing through his skull. Delta had swiftly removed the Katana from his brutally defaced chest. Blood gushed out of numerous crevices. It had been too much of a blare to distinguish what had occurred. All he knew was that his diminutive life was about to cease to exist.

    That was when Delta’s head lolled to the side before slumping onto the floor. Frayed, contorted wires slithered out of his seemingly hollow head. The remote traces of humanity displayed by the AI were stored in a demolished microchip that lay scattered in fragments around the floor.

“Thought you could use a hand,” cackled Sniffer, batting the artificial human out of his pathway to ensure that Robert had escaped the battle unscathed. “After all, your assistance in the matter has provided me with a set ground for my operations. Now, goodbye and I hope we never meet again!”

    With that, Sniffer ushered Robert towards the masked exit in which the Monsters had made a melodramatic entrance.

“Hold it one sec,” contradicted Robert. “I get assaulted by a fictitious hound, discover I’m the impossible remnant of an extinct race, almost get butchered by a robot and you’re telling me to stay out of it?”

“That is pretty much the basis,” assured Sniffer.

“How the heck am I supposed to get home in this state?” Robert scowled.

    Sniffer analysed his comrade. Various types of blood tarnished his school uniform. Wires were entangled in his scraggly hair. A lump had erected from his head, caused by the injury that Delta had inflicted upon him.

“You do look a bit worse for wear!” Sniffer condemned Robert. “Don’t worry too much; you’ll only be ridiculed on your way home.”

“I want a lift,” demanded Robert fiercely. “Now!”

“What benefits do I get out of it?” Sniffer pondered curiously.

“Well,” contemplated Robert sarcastically. “Theoretically, my alter ego has the same memories as my current self. Therefore, if I turn, I might do something rash and hunt this base down.”

“Why didn’t you say you wanted a lift?” Sniffer conveniently forgot the last few moments of the conversation. “The Sniffmobile is just around the corner.”

    Sniffer scarpered over towards yet another conspicuous exit.

“Sniffmobile?” Robert rolled it on his tongue as if he was savouring every last syllable. “Sounds like a vehicle for a cocaine addict!”

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