one man's brave battle against unforgivable evil
|Miles pulled the lever back; let the dark-suited minions have it with the chariot’s automatic rifles. Twin knives bright as stars erupted from the chariot’s dual nozzles as bullets ate up the concrete, tearing it apart like a giant toddler tearing apart putty. Hundreds of minions split apart, exploded right on the spot, but the rest huddled together gamely, brought their shield bracelets up, stacked one over the other like centurions. Their shields looked like soap bubbles, glossy and membrane-d with blue light. Miles trained the rifles directly at the shields, point blank. It took five full seconds maybe before the shields detonated, and all that kinetic energy hurtled outwards. Its mushroom cloud swept through the chariot like a wall of sooty dust.
“Activate thermal imaging,” Miles said. The headset presented a red and orange mural before self-smoothing Fourier-Transform functions quickly resolved the blurry landscape back into the city.
Next were the ninjas because there are always ninjas. In every altercation that matters, you can never get rid of them, like dietary fibre.
They leaped and flipped from derelict buildings and over upturned cars. Katanas with glowing green ion blades flickered in the night. Throwing stars whispered as they cleaved the air.
Miles tore up the night with the chariot’s rifles but he knew it was useless. The shinobi were too fast, too spread out. A massive explosion rocked the chariot and warning signs blared over his headset.
More throwing stars struck the chariot’s titanium hull before glowing green and exploding. In the tumult, two ninja alighted on the chariot’s top, slicing away the war machine’s massive rifles.
Self-defense turrets rose from the chariot’s shell, blasting the ninja away but more were leaping onto the chariot, their green katanas flickering and weaving, ripping ragged flaming scars in the chariot’s impregnable hull.
Miles had not come this far to lose however. He activated the chariot’s electric exoskeleton and the hull began to light up. Then the lower half of the chariot disengaged, dropping down, and hit the street on four all-terrain tires. At the same time, ten million volts of electricity arced through the exoskeleton, frying all the ninja atop it to death in an instant. Miles sped away, not looking back. He snagged what remaining ninja were left with his pump action shotgun, one handed.
At the end of the street stood the clan head of the ninja.
Miles made eye contact. They both knew then that this was a duel to the death.
Miles activated auto-pilot and stood up on the mini-chariot’s back. The cold wind plucked his dark brooding hair. He unlimbered his collapsible battlespear to its full length, twirling it over his head. The clan head did the same thing with a bo staff, holding it behind him with one hand, his other stretched forward.
The duel went as you could expect. The clan head’s head flew away, landing thirty feet behind him as a geyser of blood shot from the decapitated neck.
Miles exhaled, slowed the mini-chariot to a stop, and stepped out.
“You may have stopped me,” he said. “But you can’t stop America.”
He raised his right fist up. “Freedom, baby!” And sank to his knees as the puncture wound in his stomach began to bleed out. Cold, sudden pain washed over him and his vision began to blur. Earth, sky, and horizon began to meld together and all that was left was the cold metallic wind.
He had failed. On September 20, 2019, CATS came out in theaters everywhere.