A shot silenced the officer, tearing through his shoulder and throwing the man backward before his hand could close around his own weapon. Slavetaker took a step, and bullets drummed against the raised blade that shielded his helmet. He grunted, perhaps irritated, as a blast of plasma landed against his weapon, partially melting the cleaver and burning through the cloak, sending the disgusting mass flying free. An acid grenade engulfed the man, but he showed a hand through the cloud, jabbed the hand cannon's barrel into a soldier's face with a disgusting, champing sound, and rammed the handle of his cleaver into the Orais' head.
He was unharmed. T's eyes refused to believe it, but the man emanated not a single hint of pain for him to devour. Even the arm that had been damaged by the shaman no longer ached. Already back to being healthy. Insanity.
Slavetaker moved fluidly, the hydraulics of his armor barely producing a sound, but his generator roared an infernal scream, fueling his might. His minions opened fire, but he had no need for their assistance. In a blur of unhinged violence, the hordeman kicked a soldier in the groin, liquidating his pelvis, dragging his leg through his intestines, and rupturing his stomach. His oversized cannon flashed pure white, and the top of another soldier's head disappeared. Yellow lightning conjured by one of the orange-robed soldiers trapped him, sending two hordemen thrashing in agony, locked in the yellowish cage.
But while their suits hissed and spewed smoke, and their eyes popped inside their visors, Slavetaker remained unharmed. He banged his weapons together, flattened the head of the New Breed that was summoning the energy, and engaged in a brief duel against an Ice Fang.
T had dared to believe in the werewolf's victory, encouraged by the inspiring stories the teachers had told him of the Order's incredible exploits. The warrior in the dented plate rose to face Slavetaker, his white cloak, adorned by the regal emblem of the sword piercing the sun, in tatters, but his tower shield remained untouched, and the axe cracked with energy. The cleaver collided against the shield, sending a shockwave of such intensity that Halina nearly fell. But the Ice Fang grunted and rammed the shield into Slavetaker, almost pushing him back, and his axe went down, blocked by the cannon.
The Ice Fang's shoulder cannon began spinning, firing directly into the fat bulk of the man. Armor-piercing rounds ricocheted off the featureless gray surface, igniting sparks and bouncing off the Ice Fang's soot-covered, ornate suit. Slavetaker fired his own hand cannon, and the audible crack of the plate through the chaos of battle froze T in his tracks.
He, Jay, and Halina were pulled down by the Investigation Bureau officer, who ignored his own bleeding stump and tried to cover them with his body to save them from the flying bullets. Jay pushed him off, and Halina unfastened her belt and tried to make a makeshift tourniquet. I… T stood on his knee, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. What am I… Again. The Ice Fang fought with resilience and skill, parrying the cannon aside, but even his axe couldn't even dent the immense power armor Slavetaker wore. The sadist raged, utterly silent, slashing at the shield again and again, mercilessly beating the Ice Fang into the ground.
At last, the arm's hydraulics and artificial muscle fibers could take no more. They snapped at the elbow, weakening the werewolf's hold, and the next blow flew over the shield, sinking deep into the shoulder and through the clavicle. Slavetaker could not be denied. He could not be stopped, and they will all die, there was no chance; it was over…
"T!" Halina shouldered him. "Don't give up! Help me drag her…" Her one working hand, so tiny compared to his, held the wounded Mark by her collar.
Something clicked inside him, and T smiled. "Thank you, Hali, Jay," he said.
"What are you thanking me for, dumbass?" Jay asked.
"For the idea and the bravery."
T snatched a grenade from the chest pocket of the one-armed agent, ignoring his screams to stay low. He opened up, absorbing every source of pain and agony. The Reclaimers, the hordemen and his friends. Everything that bothered them and caused even the slightest discomfort fueled his supply, instantly replenishing it. Hands, his hands, protruded from his back without tearing his jacket. It was as if twos and threes of T's had overlapped his body and were now uncoiling. They jumped to his side, giving him the sight of six pairs of eyes, but he wasn't done yet.
Oh no. He had no intention of holding back anymore, and as his clones charged toward the hordemen, each carrying an acid grenade, he drank again, refilling not just his stock but that of his clones as well. Seven became forty-two, and forty-two changed to two hundred and fifty-two. Bursts of gunfire sliced through his copies. The slightest cut had enough power to banish a clone, but T didn't care. There was enough of him, and he had a supply of pain in abundance.
His friends and the Reclaimers were in danger. And he was done holding back.
"Suffer and die, you dirty savages!" He roared.
The horde of furious copies reached the ranks of the hordemen, climbing over the dead killed by the state's troops. Hands wrapped around the men and women, bodies glued to Slavetaker, giving the Ice Fang an ample opportunity to dart aside. And then, in unison, they pulled out the safety pins.
Not every grenade went off. Elbows bruised his copies, dissipating them, and those of the Ts who rushed to join the fray vanished in the splashes of the ensuing acid dome. Still, he roared, laughing with pure glee at the desperate shrieks of these merciless, subhuman scum. Their screams were music to his ears, the hiss of acid melting their plates and visors in a symphony of unparalleled beauty. Barely a person died in the first wave, but the acid lingering in the air, seconds after the copy that unleashed it disappeared, damaged suits and crept into the cracks of armor, dripping onto bare skin and providing more sources for him to drink from.
"Useless!" Slavetaker sliced through the air, obliterating a dozen Ts with air pressure alone. His next shot carved a hole through the horde that was closing in on him. "A futile attempt!"
"Oh, really?" Now calmed, he saw the melted spots on the surface of his plates and the occasional cracks left by either the axe or the bullets. His fear played tricks on him. The man wasn't invincible. "Well, if one doesn't tickle you, I might as well do it twice!" The copies approached Slavetaker and his troops and detonated themselves. "And then thrice for good measure! You know what? I am feeling generous! Have a hundred times!"
The first dome of acid disappeared, but several hordemen were on their knees, howling in terror as his shapes leapt at them, sprouting more and more Ts every second. Frantic gunfire ripped through his body, but the sheer number of Ts and their approach from all directions did the job. He heard the frightened whimpering and the fear in their eyes as they glanced at the thinning visors brought him joy. Ts sneaked closer, and another dome of acid briefly blossomed, leaving bodies rolling on the ground, covered in the horrible burns.
"Suffer, suffer, writhe in agony, you sick fucks!" T laughed bombastically; the chains of restraint slipped off him. At last he was good for something too; he was as useful as Halina and Jay! At last, he could protect those he cared about! He stood at full height, drunk on alcohol and his invincibility, feeling like a god. The concrete sank under Slavetaker's legs, and he disappeared in it up to his waist, as if it were a muddy quagmire. "Reclamation Army for the win! Thought you'd end us? Ha! Enjoy hearing screams? Sing for me, you psychos, and pay for all those you hurt!"
"Want a song? Listen to a soprano." Slavetaker said.
A single round slash cleared the area around him, and his tusked helmet roared, buckling T on his knee. This noise... it was unbearable. The windows shattered, his bones felt like they were shaking, and Halina screamed, pressing her hands to her ears. The sound weighed upon them, not exactly a roar, but an eerie note that resembled the beginning of a never-ending tribal chant, amplified to an overwhelming degree. T sensed wet in his ears and gasped, losing the connection. Most of his clones disappeared due to the ruptured eardrums, and the tusked helmet looked directly at him.
Slavetaker knew. He knew where the real T was. His cannon fired.
The grenade dropped to the street, rolling away from the four twitching fingers. The projectile flew past his hand, barely grazing him, but it was enough. T screamed in pain, holding his mangled hand, and the weapons disappeared from the hands of his copies, along with the fingers. New versions of him were still slipping into reality, each lacking fingers on one hand.
"Flesh has become drunk with its power," Slavetaker stopped his roar. He used his weapon to help himself get free from the ruined concrete. "Power doesn't make a man. It's how you use it that matters. Ponder on it as I skin you, fatty."
"I am just a child!" T screamed, thinking feverishly. Hurt, hurt, it hurt so much! He couldn't let himself be distracted; there had to be a way to save Jay and Halina. "And yet I fucked you up twice already! Not bad for a flesh! Catch me if you can, dog-faced freak."
He ran. There was no time to explain anything to his friends. They could hate or reject him afterward; T didn't care. Slavetaker shifted. He noticed. The man wanted him, focused on him. He knew it from those days; the sadists like him thought themselves so smart, but all they had was strength and little brains. He knew how to play their kind.
Two Ts tried to use the machine guns of the dead Reclaimers to cover those still alive as they took shelter in the building. But even though the newer copies that had sprouted from his armed copies carried weapons, it was impossible for him to use them. One was empty, and the trigger on another was meant for an Orais; his weak fingers couldn't squeeze it. So he threw his many selves at Slavetaker and his crew, trying to slow them down, while another T helped Halina drag the wounded Mark and the officer away…
Wait…
"Idiot!" Someone shoved him in the back, and he heard a gunshot. Jay staggered beside him, barely regaining his footing, and two freshly made Ts grabbed him under the armpits. The skin on the back of his head was missing, revealing gleaming bone. Jay blinked.
"Jay, I am so sorry," T cried, leading him into the alley, hearing the pounding footsteps of Slavetaker behind them. "I didn't mean to abandon you; I should have tossed the grenades. I was so stupid; I…"
"Do you even know where you are running?" Jay whispered, blinking again.
"What? No!"
"Retard." Jay smiled through the pain, his eyes flashing. "You planned on a noble sacrifice, leading the bastard away? No dice, T, we are getting out of here alive!"
"But how! He can't be stopped! No one can beat…"
"Trust me!" Slavetaker squeezed into the alley, too narrow for him. The edges of his armor splintered stone and metal, denying him the opportunity to run at full speed. Part of his crew surrounded the Reclaimers, but none of them paid any attention to Halina, following their leader's orders like loyal dogs. He wanted them.
"I'm sorry; I'm so sorry for leaving you," the fake T murmured, helping Halina drag the two wounded away. "I thought it was the best way to…"
"Beat it, T," the girl said fiercely. Her arm in the sling twitched, incapable of movement, and she sighed. "Your poor hand! Should I…"
"Not the real me, don't feel a thing," he reassured her, half-lying. His condition was transferred to his copies, but copies couldn't heal. "Actually, I'm not sure if this clone can even disappear from a blood loss…"
"You weakened the beast; now we need another Reclaimer's patrol to finish him off!" Jay said.
"Where are we supposed to find them?!" asked the real T.
"Think, T! Think! The Reclaimers hold the vital areas, right? All we have to do is rush to a place that our guys consider important."
"You came up with this idea so fast?" T whistled. "You are smart. Wonder how this plan will backfire on us."
"Screw you, T!"
"Already planning on cheating on your girlfriend, stickman?"
"Never… I mean, she is not my girlfriend, fat ass!" Jay blinked again, touched the back of his head, and began to run more steadily. "Listen, can you talk through your clones? Know what she is doing?"
"Yes! She. We are still trying to rescue the soldiers!"
"Tell her…"