Hell, I can’t even remember the name of my hometown
because of what they done to me. I can’t even remember my own @#$£ing name,
only that everybody calls me Armoury.
As for what they
did to her, Armoury doesn’t know the full details, but has had the misfortune
to witness her current appearance at different times.
Her skin is a
motley white with a hideous criss-cross of stiches all over the half-dead
flesh. Her mouth has been sewn shut while her left eye has been replaced with
some red-eye biological contraption that allows her to view things with much
more detail than she should be.
Her hair has all
been removed along with her nose and ears, the latter having been replaced with
some extremely sensitive, but nonvisible alternatives. She also has multiple sets of arms with two more being added
below her original pair and a fourth and fifth added to her both shoulders,
giving her eight arms in total.
And that is just
her exterior appearance as Armoury has no idea of what has been done to her
insides.
What I do know is that whatever Hackjob has done to
means that I can’t escape or disobey the orders of the Slaughter Seven.
I hate having to serve that monsters. Slaughtering my
family and friends, burning down my hometown and turning me into this…this
abomination! Stripping me of my freewill as well! And Hackjob didn’t even have
the decency to remove my ability to feel pain! Every moment is one of low level
pain at best.
She is currently
being held captive in the back of a truck on the outskirts of the current city
that the Slaughter Seven are going after.
I wonder how long they can last. They have already
destroyed over fifty different settlements, including four small cities. At
this rate, they are going to run out of people to kill or somebody is going to
take them down.
Armoury feels
her eyes straying to her current guard, Biokiena. She lacks control over her
body, her eyes and limbs moving of their own accord or when controlled by
others.
Biokiena is a
blonde and blue eyed Aphrodite woman and A Class Biokinetic, able to manipulate
her own body and any organic matter in sight completely and utterly.
Armoury glares
at Biokiena, analysing her entire body in the process. Eventually Biokiena
realises what Armoury is doing and turns her head to look back at Biokiena.
“What are you
looking at?” sneers Biokiena.
A bitch.
But Armoury is
unable to speak and has been in that position for over a month now.
What I would do to you if I get the chance.
Too bad my power is utterly useless to save me or even
extract my vengeance. Instead, all it does is add my tormentors. I can’t
believe I have no control over my power now. I would much rather not use it and
die than use it and assist these monsters.
Suddenly there
are several hisses as energy discharges multiple times outside and the screams
of dying creatures, a mixture of Hackjob’s creations and creatures summoned by
Demonica.
Biokiena’s head
snaps around as she looks at the back of the truck. She prepares for battle,
enhancing her body with armour plating and spikes while Armour is certain she
is internally improving it as well.
A green tinted
grey blade stabs through the side of the truck and into Biokiena’s head. The
supervillainess is dead before she can even begin to process what has happened
as the blade tears into her brain.
The blade withdraws
and Armoury can hear thuds outside as the killer of Biokiena moves outside.
The blade comes
down at the lock of the back of the truck, cutting through the lock with ease.
The back doors swing open and a moment later, the killer walks in.
Armoury is
surprised at the appearance of the new arrival. It is a humanoid robot that
looks very crudely built. Its head is curved with no sides of ears or nose. The
mouth is a rectangular radio speaker while the right eye is an oval and has a
light blue glow to it. The left eye looks like a scope, just barely jutting out
and has no lens, but a deep blue glow.
The head and the
rest of the body is all armoured in a grey metal with a green tint and Armoury
notes it is the same metal as the sword. Speaking of which, the sword is built
into the end of the left arm where the hand should be, replacing that part of
the body. The right arm has a curved gun built into it with the hand underneath
it with only three fingers and one thumb.
The machine
approaches her and it raises its sword.
No! I will not die! I will fight!
But try as she
might, Armoury cannot fight. She cannot even get her body to respond to the
most basic of commands.
With a wordless
and entirely internal roar, Armoury feels her power overcharging as the
injustice of it all comes crashing down on her as her death is imminent.
She roars as her
body changes, reshaping itself, and her power expands and grows, reforging
itself into something stronger.
Muscle is
replaced with blue, superior techno-organic replacements. Her extra arms before
truly hers and her skin is replaced with steely blue plates of smooth, sleek
armour. Her head now looks like a featureless helmet except for a set of pure
black mechanical eyes.
Now stronger and
powerful, over two metres tall with eight arms, Armoury laughs. The sound comes from vocal box beneath her armour-flesh as Armoury has no visible reaction on
the outside.
No longer weak
or helpless, Armoury snarls as she reaches for her attacker before the robot
can strike at her.
But the robot
swiftly dodges with ease. Not due to its speed and reflex, which seem to be
equal to Armoury’s new own, but with the skill of an experienced veteran born
of countless battles. It is now that Armoury realises that armour of robot is
covered in old battle scars.
Now the question is whether it can’t repair those or
simply chose not to.
“I seek to talk,
not battle with you,” says the robot in a mechanical, but slightly cheerful
voice,
“Actually I sought to free you, but seems to be no longer necessary.”
“What do you
want?” asks Armoury, her new voice a deep, feminine hum.
“Your
assistance,” replies the robot, “I will give you a new cause, completely with a
new life and purpose.”
Armoury thinks
for a moment. She does need a new life.
“I am
interested,” answers Armoury.
“Good, for my
foes are dangerous and powerful, but must also be stopped,” says the robot.
“It is the
Slaughter Seven?” inquires Armoury as she takes in her new appearance.
“No,” answers
the robot.
“Let me guess,
the Harbingers?” Armoury tries again.
“Not the top
priority at the moment,” replies the robot, “Ragnarok is predictable and likes
to take things slow. For all his might, he and his pack are not the most
dangerous things in this world right now. They are still reeling from recent
defeats both physically and mentally.”
“Oh?” says
Armoury curiously.
“I will explain
in detail later,” says the robot as it motions with its hand, “Now we must deal
with the approaching Aquiline.”
Armoury would grin
if she still could. She is eager to extract her revenge on her captor.
“He is beaten
and his forces are in disarray,” continues the robot.
“How many have
fallen to the Slaughter Seven?” asks Armoury.
“Less than two
hundred,” answers the robot and Armoury is stunned.
“How can there
be so few?” demands Armoury.
“I got a
parahuman who goes by the codename Chronicler to keep losses today minimal,”
explains the robot without actually explaining.
“Oh,” says
Armoury, not understanding, “I am Armoury by the way.”
“Greetings
Armoury,” says the robot, “I am GD-G2.”
