Headlamps lit the mile-long road like distant alien probes, first just a couple of scouts, but before long, an invasion fleet. They sped over the golden road, growing brighter, a steady drumroll of engines, crescendoing until the cold night air vibrated in sympathy. Andy perched in a spindly tree that had broken through the roadside’s golden shell. The sapling could barely hold his weight, but Clara insisted he get his feet off the ground for what she was about to do. She crouched on the opposite side of the road behind the rubble of a dilapidated billboard. Gabe had disappeared into the young forest to find a branch thick enough to hold his weight, good riddance that he was out of the way.

  As the leading motorbike approached, the illusion of distance made it seem like it was speeding up. It flew past them, but Clara remained hidden. Two more raced past their position without spotting them, then Clara jumped out of cover into the middle of the road ahead of the main pack and slammed her hands into the floor. A crackle of blue lightning washed over the road in a shockwave, fizzing at the forerider’s wheels. But it wasn’t enough, the blast dissipated like a bunk match. The pop of gunfire chirped like a mechanical carrion bird, spitting low-calibre bullets into their position. Many more of the bikers swung melee weapons above their heads, like swords in the hands of cavalry, racing close enough to kill.

  Clara raised her hands to the heavens as though she was trying to drag the sky to the ground, then thrust her palms into the road again and screamed. The shockwave expanded to reach the pavement beneath Andy’s feet, licking at the soles of his shoes. It travelled through the golden road like a flame tossed into a puddle of gasoline, dousing the motorbikes in sparks. The foreriders let go of their handlebars and dropped their weapons, spinning out of control. Their bodies were too stiff and spasming to break their fall and protect their heads. They crumpled on the road as Clara dodged their smoking vehicles skidding past her. But more were coming, and those they had allowed to pass were turning around. Divided from the main group of bikes, they would make easy pickings for Andy. Hopping down from his tree and unslinging his shotgun, but froze with shock. Clara was going for another burst.

  Andy dropped the shotgun and scrambled back into the branches as the world erupted around him. The smallest of the trees around him burst open like grenades, spraying him with splinters. Andy craned his head, squinting as another tree exploded nearby, but couldn’t see Clara, except for the phosphorus glow in the centre of the road, shrieking with rage, hurling blue sparks across the golden landscape. Unable to break in time, the pack of bikes collided with her radiant storm. Energised appendages clawed at them like skeletal fingers sent from the underworld, ripping the riders from their steeds, pulling them into the raging abyss. One engine exploded in a fireball as the vehicle spun head over tail, crashing into the treeline. Andy clung to his sapling liferaft. The ground beneath him was awash in a deadly current, clawing at his boots, splashing him with painful stabbing sparks. Every hair on his body stood erect, like miniature pylons, reaching out to bridge the gap between him and certain death. Heartstopping electricity ran up his spine, tickling his brain. His mouth stung like he’d chewed a nettle and tears welled in his eyes.

  Finally, the storm died down. Andy jumped out of his perch, retrieved his shotgun, and ran over to Clara. Errant sparks flickered over the golden road and rubble piled beside it. His sister drooped on her knees, head in her chest. Andy was hesitant to put his hand on her shoulder. “You good, sis?”

  She didn’t respond. Clenching, expecting a shock, Andy took her underarm and dragged her into the cover of the young forest. All around them, bodies lay limp, twisted and broken, or otherwise unnaturally stiff. Andy stepped over a man whose arms and legs were straight at his sides as though he was impersonating a fish. His jaw was clenched shut, his eyeballs bulging, a white foam speckling his blue lips. The cool lakeside air was suddenly sodden with the smell of burned rubber and expelled bowles.

  “I’m okay.” Clara said, short of breath.

  Andy set her down and scanned the road. The bikes they had let pass were now mere blips of light on the highway, fleeing or otherwise keeping their distance. He chuckled. He bet it looked like a nightmare from where they stood. But the fight wasn’t over yet. Looking back towards the city, about half a mile down the long road, two battlewagons brought up the rear of the convoy. They were slower than the bikes, better armoured, more powerful. Clara couldn’t ride in her condition, whether or not their motorbike’s electronics were still operational. They were out of tricks, revealed and exposed, facing an insurmountable enemy with nowhere to run or hide. Now that was some last stand shit.

  Andy checked the chamber of his bolt action rifle, assessing its weight to make sure his maths was correct. Three rounds left. The shotgun was double-barrelled with seven spare shells, but it wasn’t the quickest to reload. He had no grenades, no machine guns, no Julie. It would have to do.

  Andy took aim at the oncoming battlewagons, placing his iron sights between the frontmosts’ headlights like the spot between a person’s eyes. “What am I looking at here, robot?”

  Affinity weapon absent. Combat options limited.

  “I know that,” Andy hissed. “Do an analysis or something, tell me its weak spot.” Andy settled the butt of the rifle into his shoulder, flexing and relaxing. The muzzle rose steadily with his breath. He took his finger off the guard and placed it on the trigger.

  Recent memory indicates that the target is equipped with frontside armoured plating, a reinforced hull and protected wheels.

  “Weakspot robot, I won’t say it again.”

  A visibility slit in the driver’s side window may expose the occupant, however, current engagement range exceeds effective parameters. Hold fire advised.

  “Thanks for the encouragement.” Andy pulled the trigger. The rifle kicked back as the bullet sped down the road, its trajectory lost in the battlewagons’ bright headlamps. “Was I near?”

  Visual compromised. Target is outside effective engagement range. Likelihood of success: Mitigatable.

  Andy licked his lips, a familiar metallic taste in his mouth. His Augmentation’s Marksman combat hormones were trickling into his veins, calming him, improving his senses. He aimed a little higher to account for the bullet drop, nudged the muzzle slightly right towards the driver’s side and fired. Straight away, he felt that it wasn’t perfect. A couple seconds later, he sighted the bullet pinging off the battlewagon’s front armoured plating, scratching the paint job slightly. Andy sighed. “One more.”

  Ammunition limited. Hold fire is advised.

  “Yeah? If they get closer, they’ll outgun me anyway.” Andy cocked the bolt, loading his final round. This was it then. The pop of distant gunfire echoed down the road as the battlewagons returned his greeting gesture. In a minute, they’d be on him, and he’d have to resort to taking on two tanks with a double barrel shotgun. He didn’t like those odds.

  But Andy didn’t feel hopeless. Not yet. More miraculous things had happened in this world.

  An accurate shot is currently implausible.

  “Would you say impossible?”

  Affirmative.

  Andy aimed his rifle like it was the finger of death, closed his eyes and fired. He exhaled, as a shiver ran through him. Perfection. The sound of tires shrieking came right on cue. Andy opened his eyes. The frontmost battlewagon had veered into the roadside verge, swerving to correct itself. But the turn was too fast, the machine too heavy. The wheels along one flank lifted off the road. The wagon behind it slammed into its belly, dozer blade toppling it like a rhino. Sparks erupted beneath the wagon like it was being welded into the road as it screeched atop the gold, a harrowing cry of machine anguish and death. Like a dying animal, the screeching diminished to a whimper and it slid to a stop.

  Andy clenched his fists and whooped. “That’s what you get,” he screamed. “Impossible, they said. It couldn’t be done. Where you at now, robot?”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Calculating.

  “Yeah, calculate my arse.” Andy slung the rifle over his shoulder and crouched next to Clara. “Tell me you saw that.”

  Her head bobbed as she lifted it to look him in the eye. Though fatigued, her eyes sparkled as they always had. “Nice shot, bro.”

  “Too right, nice shot. Shot of the century. Shot of the apocalypse. I closed my eyes and all. Did you notice that I closed my eyes?”

  Something crashed through the canopy above him. Andy slung his shotgun around, Killer Instinct triggering, but as he fired, the muzzle of the shotgun was flung aside, and a boot collided with his head. Andy’s fingers clamped around the shotgun’s butt as he scrambled to his feet, but a force like a car drove into his chest, flinging him through the air. He landed and rolled with the impact, skidding to his knees on the golden road beside the forest. Levitating above Clara’s head was his nemesis: Double Denim, back for more, a cane in one hand and Julie unfaithfully at his hip.

  Andy fired again with Enhanced Precision, aiming to turn Double-D’s head into a spray of mist, but the man stuck out his hand like he was doing a karate chop and split the shotgun’s blast down the centre. Ball bearings scattered either side of his face, but a little of the shot connected, peppering the shoulder of his denim jacket. His nemesis didn’t flinch, punching the air, projecting something with his mystical telekinesis powers. Andy leapt aside, fishing in his pocket for more shells. His feet got swept up in the invisible blast, but he was already rolling and reloading, and getting to his feet. Something struck Andy in the gut, forcing him to his knees, but he fired back twice. The first shot was deflected, but the second tore into Double-D’s arm.

  The man screamed, pain and fury combining into a fierce snarl.

  Andy darted into the cover of rubble, snapping the barrel to insert two more shells, but suddenly the shotgun was torn from his grasp. Andy’s fingers closed around the strap before it could get away from him as the shotgun seemed suspended in the air between him and Double Denim. Then a hail of rubble smashed into the side of Andy’s head. He released the strap to protect his face as the barrage continued. Andy was unarmed, but not without a fight. The metallic taste of his Augmentation’s steroids thickened like a broth, sickly sweet. His gut howled with a carnal hunger. A fire swept through his veins as a Killing Frenzy purified his blood, and set him alight.

  Andy launched towards the floating vestige of meat, fingernails like scalpels to open arteries, his jaw desperate for the clench of flesh. The man rose into the air, but not far enough. Andy leapt and grabbed his boot, dragging him to the ground. There, he writhed and struck out, blasting Andy with hammer after hammer of blows. But each attack felt padded, muffled by Andy’s rage. He clawed open the man’s jacket, exposing his chest beneath, boering like a rat, frenzied to disembowel his prey.

  An impact, and blackness coated Andy’s vision. Fireworks burst behind his eyes. Andy blinked, back on his feet before he realised that he’d hit the ground, then another blow struck him, cracking his jaw loose from his skull. Andy staggered, then his knee snapped backwards and he fell. He snarled, but the pain spread through him like wildfire, difficult to ignore. Andy rose to one knee, gathering his strength for one last effort, when he came face to muzzle with his beloved Julie, and all of the will to fight drained from him.

  “You’re beat,” Double Denim growled. His cheek was torn open and blood was flowing over his chin. His unruly blonde hair obscured one of his eyes, the other glowered at Andy wide with fear and intensity. “Must I spill your blood, beast? It is more valuable than you could know.”

  “Babe,” Andy said, clutching his jaw, barely able to speak. “Why?”

  “Why?” Double Denim said. “You tell me why. It was your decision. I offered you sanctuary, wealth, work. All of this destruction… what is it for?”

  “Why him?” Andy stretched his hand out, but couldn’t bear to use his Augmentation’s Fatal Attraction powers to summon Julie to him. She had to make the choice for herself.

  Suddenly, Double-D’s hand snapped out as a gunshot rang down the road. Andy detected the bullet veering off at the last moment, narrowly avoiding his heart, punching through the hem of his denim jacket. Before Clara could get off another shot, Double-D struck out like throwing an invisible noose and dragged her to the ground. The pistol she had salvaged scattered out of her hands over the golden road.

  “Cow,” his nemesis said. “Know when you are defeated.”

  Clara rose on shakily legs and staggered towards Andy, then fell once more. “Please stop, don’t kill him.”

  Double Denim didn’t turn to her, only planted his copper-wiring staff into the ground and held Julie level with Andy’s face. “I am sorry, Clara. This one is beyond my help.”

  “Don’t. Please don’t.” Clara’s voice was harsh with desperation. “We’ll join you. We’ll do anything.”

  “It is too late, Clara. You betrayed my trust. You killed my sapes, my men, who I am obliged to protect.” His jaw was clenched, voice tight with fury. “Your freedom shall be revoked, but do not worry, your blood is too valuable to spill. You will serve the nation, one way or another.”

  Planting a hand on his knee, Andy rose to his feet and spread his arms out wide. Julie’s muzzle remained still, pointing now at his chest. “You won’t do it, babe.”

  “What,” Double Denim said. “Do you think that you are immune to being shot?”

  Andy lifted his chin. “I have faith.”

  Behind Julie, Double Denim snarled. “I checked the cylinder. I’m not stupid. You are not the only person who knows how to shoot a gun, Andrew.”

  “I know we’ve been through a rough patch,” Andy said. “But me and you babe, we’re meant forever.”

  “Delusional,” Double-D said. “Die now, dog.”

  “Excuse me, but do you mind not interrupting-”

  Suddenly Julie roared at him as her hammer struck the primer. The bullet smashed into Andy’s right-side chest, putting him back on his arse. Her vitriolic outburst was more painful than any wound Andy had ever received before.

  “Andy!” Clara screamed, and suddenly he was in his sister’s arms, gazing up at the night’s sky.

  Andy groaned and clenched his teeth. “Okay,” he managed. “I deserve that.” Sitting upright and knelt before Julie, held in the grotty hands of Double Denim. “I should never have doubted you… never have let you leave my side.” Andy swallowed, tasting blood. “But haven’t I suffered enough?”

  “Your suffering is of little consequence,” Double Denim interrupted. “I cannot train you, and you only poison the girl. It is a shame, but it is necessary.”

  “You’re the only one for me, Julie,” Andy said. “You have to know that. These cool new vampire powers… the going mad and sucking blood… it’s all just a fling, I swear.”

  “Please don’t kill him,” Clara said. “I need him. I won’t cooperate if you do.”

  Double Denim shook his head. “It’s too late.”

  “Forgive me,” Andy said, heart swelling in his chest, beating louder with every gush of blood that spurted from his gunshot wound. “I know I’m hard to be with, but that’s why I need you.”

  “Look at you,” his nemesis interjected. “You are a disgrace. A waste of an Augmentation. There is no greater sin. If I could drain the serum out of you and repurpose your powers, perhaps there would be a reason for your life. But however, I cannot. This is the end, Andrew.”

  “No, wait,” Clara blurted. “Please wait.”

  “Say goodbye.”

  Andy braced himself for words he couldn’t remember having ever said before. “Julie…”He took the leap. “I love you.”

  His beautiful revolver’s trigger was pulled. The hammer cocked as the cylinder spun to chamber a fresh round. Then, with a horrible popping sound like a dislocated limb, Julie detonated in Double Denim’s hand. Julie freed herself from his grasp as Double-D screamed and bent over in pain, clutching his injured hand.

  Bloodlust swept over Andy. He leapt up on his one good leg and caught his nemesis by the neck, digging his nails in, exposing his trachea. But Double Denim still had strength. He pulled away as Andy’s broken jaw fumbled around his throat. Andy tightened his grip, clinging to Double Denim’s neck with viper claws. His nemesis pushed Andy’s face back, the blood on his injured hand getting smooshed into Andy’s broken jaw. Ignoring the call of pain, Andy withdrew the spearhead of gold which he had sharpened in his cell and drove the point through his prey’s eye. Double Denim convulsed and grasped in agony, struggling to breathe, but Andy bore the improvised blade deeper. Andy’s jaws closed around the man’s neck, canines dug into flesh.

  The lever of a pistol sounded somewhere in the depths of Andy’s hunger. It was impossible to ignore. Andy glanced up from his carnivorous coil at Clara, standing above the two of them, pistol in hand.

  “Andy,” she said. “One moment, if you would.”

  Andy licked the taste of blood off his lips and staggered back panting. He was bathed in sweat and a good deal of his own blood.

  “Why?” Double Denim croaked, cowering beneath Clara. “I offered you everything. Why do you treat me like this?” His voice rose to a shrill, but the effort drained him. He lay on the ground, golden dagger protruding from his eye, throat sliced open. “We could have been together,” he whispered. “Started a family. Children.” His lips continued to move, but no sound came out.

  “It’s nothing personal,” Clara said, pointing the pistol at his head. “We’re just mercenaries.”

  “Your secret… will not die with me…”

  “Alright,” Clara said. “It’s a little personal.”

  Andy’s sister pulled the trigger, and the wasteland’s night was returned its cold silence.