The air turned red with a veil of heat. Anyone who stood the test of time knew what it meant. Off the east end of his castle Rote stood ready, "And he's gonna fire that ray of his soon, isn't he?" Dynamo questioned among the pandemonium. The three barons met his quiz with nods, "Shit, alright I need you to take Tome and that girl out of here," he was quick to ensure Strider was okay after that crash. Relatively few wounds scared his body, still strong enough to stand. "Lena's somewhere around the corner- get both of em and I'll double your pay."
Strider didn't even need the incentive for this. His mouth open with questions on his mind, "Guessing that Ailiya bitch dragged her close?" his inquiry held anger behind it. Leaning down, he huffed with the body of the giant tossed over his shoulder, "Jesus christ do you want me to get an artificial spine too!?" while his left arm supported Tome, his right arm touched the ground. A beep signaled the silver. Hungry bugs retreated into the openings in his palm into their corrective containers, traversing through his torso and into both arms adding bulk. "Don't worry about money, I'll get it done."
Like that he went off to the alley Dynamo pointed down the street. Flames blasted behind his head, that wolf wasn't giving up just yet. But it was difficult to concentrate with fifty small, flying pests launching both liquid nitrogen and bullets at him. Others fired a thick goo that clung to his body. Gritting his teeth, the beast continued to spew flames in every direction to no avail, "Now is this the game you wish to play? Don't you think I know what will come if I continued like this?" he smiled. Switched on motives, the foe began to bounce. Off the ground, unto the skulls of the swarm. For every head, he leaped on one of them fell with a crack in their head. "If Rote wishes for battle then with all due respect, I'm right here."
He kept the pace through the inhabilitating goo clung to his limbs. It didn't slow him down whatsoever. The barons were waiting on their cue to break him as well, plasma singing right outside the irradiated red zone. They waited for the other half of the swarm to respond. No victims other than the visible ones, the rest had already left, "If he insists, then fine," Carmine sighed. Eyes on the target growing closer. Her arm explored her back to the long red pole wrapped in yellow binds. The head was bulky in the shape of gears that acted as a guard holding four plasma spines. A fifth central one was the main blade, tall and thin from laminar flow; an afterimage when it was dragged. Carmine upped the power and went for the kill.
New oil and old iron. Plasma and metal kissed, but experience shone through. Carmine thrusted down. Between the gap in their arms and for the legs. Plasma wouldn't be hot enough to carve through the limb, it needed to linger far too long. A twist of the hilt fixed that. Carmine's spear cut off the flow and swapped to the kosmik blade that shot out. It slid into the minor cracks in the thigh. At the cost of the blade, Carmine spun it for a larger opening; both shattered. Her head weaved away from the claws that would tear it off. "Alright, you're up...Legbuster."
"Aww, you're too kind," the wolf was caught off-guard. Right behind him was Dynamo and a trail of the swarm. He didn't time to heal. Dynamo's leg hooked around and their blade heel cleaved into his wires. Currents surged and the wolf's torso spun back to meet him.
"You lousy-" he bit his speaker.
"Got the report from my swarms, nobody's around," Carmine announced, "Sending the okay to his majesty," the bells rung. Heralds sang and angels sobbed, "Estimated one minute," her eyes were a great warning. Carmine, Cerise, and Baroque backed away once the hue in the atmosphere boiled. Dynamo faced the fleeing Strider, bolstering Veles around his waist and the dragon on his shoulders. Soon he gripped Lena. On his back bolstered short openings. Wings of a minimalist design, simple boosters that could carry a deceptive amount of weight in those small openings. A few pulses and he went into the save zone a few hundred meters.
"Alright I'm-" Dynamo couldn't move. His speaker was blocked by a finger in his mouth. The wolf had him where he wanted; with a squeeze, he ensured the blade in his heel wasn't going anywhere either. They feel back to the ground, right next to the downed warehouse.
"Oh? A few seconds remain, don't they?" the wolf had zeal in his tone, "Your interior survived my bomb earlier? Didn't you? Of course, you wouldn't use that poison if you're galvanize was gone," he mocked the elder, "What would happen if you were blasted by those rays? Would your mind melt? Could you handle the heat?" the bravery in his tone. He wasn't afraid of expending his own body if it meant Dynamo's downfall. Because he knew Dynamo's secret, didn't he? "I was developed with the truth in my frame. I know everything you are, Dynamo...or should I call you…"
Whispers of the final word landed on his ear alone. Names came and went, erased by time, yet some stuck around. Red clouded Dynamo's vision, though was it anger? Or the bright red ray? Rote fired his ray. Red hot radiation that left virtually nothing once the trigger pulled. A stream of red fell from the sky and tragedy befell. Everyone stopped and gawked, for this was nothing to their lord. Rote simply dusted himself off. The titan stood over ten meters tall, with a bulky frame with the most intricate of details carved in gold. Thrusters on his feet propelled his way. If he were to move, all people would see were his green eyes and the core in his stomach. Green like the beast who ruled before. "Hmm, that should teach him."
Rote was constructed with no weapons on his frame; the same was for his brother Gotche. But as man could fire a gun so could he. Red Rig was his tool of choice, a canon that shared his colors with a sleek design. Over his shoulder the rig made a sixteen-wheeler feel small in stature. The rig was connected to his arm with another bulb of molten red forming within it' barrel; a red moon, "Sir...I'd advise against that," Parshad coughed up, "You'd output triple the lethal dose of radiation for us to clean up…"
Parshad's warning heeded, the god lowered his hand. "Yes...that would do. But do not worry about the radiation," at the cost of a thought all of the particles froze. Rote sealed his palm and rested the weapon. He was a god who controlled heat itself. Above measly flames, controlling a few hundred thousand particles was child's play. All of the radiation ciphered back into his castle in moments. His throne glowed in delight. "You'd be correct, I need not a second shot."
And Rote stared down upon his creation of neon lights built upon the grave of a god and it was beautiful despite the erasure he just performed. The act was a simple reminder to the citizens and foreigners, for he shed not a drop of sweat. Earth itself trembled in every step to his throne and the others he gave. "Let the swarm survey the land for me."
Charred and melted was the only way to describe that sector of the road. Buildings turned to ash dripping with iron remnants. The street caved in with an outline of hissing red. It was no more. The barons were blasé to these scenes, "Alright, perform protocol now!" Carmine ruled, "Get me victims and bring me the bodies of those fools," she was a harsh woman. Her brother nodded with the swarm flying to action. They recollected the bodies of the fallen units and dove to survey the complete damage.
"Hmm...I wonder what occurred to that one," Baroque hovered closer, "It would be a shame if we needed to report his demise,"
"Keep speaking like that and his lordship would think you had a hand in this," Cerise warned. "That Legbuster always seems to survive, whether it is his will or against not."
"Hmm, don't get my hopes up," Carmine huffed, "The fool disappears faster than a magician's pet," she joked. Obviously, she spoke too soon. Reports came in of the only other persons on scene, Tome, the bar owner, and the strange girl. "Hmm, is that it? An odd combination of people no less….send this intel to his majesty-Ah, there he is."
A last-minute look showed that damned rogue unit at the center of it all, "Hey, can I get some help here?" Dynamo called out. He clung to the edge of a crumbling ledge that stole all eyes. Where the warehouse stood was a route cleared by Rote's ray. While Dynamo clung to the metal frame of the road his body dangled in the free space that was revealed. This little warehouse was far bigger than any first saw.
A warehouse within a warehouse painted in a world of white tiles. Manufacturing tracks ran along the wall carrying parts from other disclosed sectors for storage in these giant white pods in the center of the room, "A whole machine factory….underneath all of this," Dynamo gulped. Curiosity got the better of him. He dropped to meet the makers.
Three barons sighed at his decision, but he would be a good test dummy for whatever laid undisturbed. The drop was almost fifty meters down with the ground ringing at his descent. Anyone would be driven mad if they were in a room like this long enough. Every inch sterile with an ungodly hum of tracks and metal fusing, but the rogue unit's eyes focused on something else. All of the pods in the center of the room sat like soldiers with equal space between each column and row; they were larger up close. They mimicked his charging pod's design with twice the scale and an additional glass tube keeping the machines trapped. Coolant ran from wires in the ground keeping the insides of each pod frozen, "Cryogenic sleep? For machines?" Dynamo was puzzled. Especially at the signatures on the ends of the pods.
Z-0001 Starmen. Zenith's mark, just like on Zaltras, "So...you do belong to those idiots," his leg jetted to the side where it met claws. Looming over one of the pods was the one who refused to perish. "Zaltras was an odd unit, and these seem weird too, so why not introduce yourself?"
"Fair enough," the wolf cackled, "Z7-0000 is my digit, Zion of the Neo-Machinas." a name attached to the devil. "And this is where you will rest eternally! My dear ancestor!"