Overclocked -ch 19-

Wrench moved ahead at a quick trot.

If he could kill four, that’d make it nearly impossible for anyone else to beat him. Another combatant would have to eliminate the entire enemy team.

I want to live a good life!

A fun life!

I only get one more chance, and that’s it! I can’t squander it this time!

I’ll take everything I have to from others, to make sure I live the best I can!

That goes double for my Hab! If I can give them all their own best lives, even better!

Wrench didn’t even realize it but he was now sprinting.

Closing the distance with an increidble amoutn of speed as he darted straight at the opposing team.

“I’m sorry!” Wrench yelled and then dipped into his System to activate the way his mind perceived the world. Slowing everything down to one-fourth of the speed that it should be.

With his body being able to react as quickly as it could and to utilize the slowed down perception he could generate tremendous force. Throwing a punch in this state would put more than enough force behind it to break his own bones with the impact.

And that’s why we strengthened the Muscular, Skeletal, and Integumentary system!

Having learned from using his elbow to shatter a lizard-monster’s jaw, Wrench was keen to repeat the experience. His arm had dislocated itself due to the force of the blow.

That just meant that it was a great attack to use provided he’d reinforced himself.

Veering to the left at the last handful of moments, Wrench aimed his body so he’d glide past the enemy on the extreme left. Lifting his right arm as he went he brought his elbow up and out akin to a bird lifting it’s wing.

The strike was timed fairly well, the blade of his elbow striking the large Brawler’s unexposed throat almost as the strike came to the full extension. Transferring all the movement and momentum to the man’s larynx.

Without looking, or bothering to check, Wrench was positive the man was already dying.

There was simply no way the man could survive the blow Wrench had given him. Either his larynx was shattered, his neck was broken, or his windpipe was crushed.

The man was no longer an issue.

Unable to slow down, and his balance thrown off from the impact, Wrench ended up stumbling forward.

In slow motion, no less.

Managing to correct the terrible position of his feet as well as shift his center of gravity Wrench wrenched himself into a position where he could fall forward safely.

A full recovery without falling was simply impossible.

Diving into the fall he pulled his arms up in front of himself, protecting his face with his forearms and his hands moving around to cover his spine. Tucking inward tightly.

Hitting the clay he rolled forward along his back.

When his ass hit the ground he shot his right leg out at an angle. Causing his whole body to shift into a slide, rather than a continued tumble.

It jerked his upperbody forward, but he did cease his momentum with the adjustment. Kicking up clods and chunks of clay out in front of himself.

Moving with the slide, Wrench let his right foot gain complete traction, then pushed with his left leg. Rising up into a standing position without any real effort at all.

Turning around, he found that the one he’d punch at was now down on the ground. Writhing back and forth with his hands on his throat.

The other three were all running away from Wrench toward his team-mates. Two of them had knives somehow.

“Shit,” hissed Wrench, feeling strange to hear the words being spoken so slowly. Pushing himself forward into a run, Wrench took off after the others. He needed to catch up to them so that not only could he be responsible for their deaths, but to make sure that Dickheads Brawler’s weren’t slaughtered.

The fewer deaths that they experienced, the better it’d be for Goodie.

Overly concerned with her, aren’t I?

Before Wrench could catch up, the two groups had engaged one another.

Chuckles had managed to actually get into the fighting position Wrench had briefly drilled him on. It put his opponent off-balance to see such a response and he’d hesitated. The knife in his hand almost forgotten it appeared.

Unfortunately, the other combatant with the knife had much better luck.

Right now it was burried up to the hilt in the side of one of the Brawlers that’d come with Wrench. The wounded Brawler had then grabbed the weapon and held it there, trapping it against his own chest and preventing the attacker from pulling it out.

Turning to the right Wrench put himself on Chuckles’ left side.

Only to turn back into the fight and bringing himself around to run right up behind the opposing combatants. He didn’t have any time to spare though to really help Chuckles out.

Wrench needed to get to the wounded Brawler if there was any hope for him surviving this.

One could be stabbed, repeatedly in fact, and still live through it. So long as it didn’t strike any vital bits of the Hume body.

Sparing enough time to punch the Brawler in the side of his stomach as he passed Wrench could do no more for Chuckles.

Passing by the enemy without a weapon who was now grappling with the other Brawler Wrench continued to the end. Coming right up to the one who’d stabbed the other.

Not stopping, Wrench reached up and snapped the inside of his arm into the man’s neck as he went by.

Quite literally clothes-lining him with the crook of his elbow against the side of his throat. Except he wrapped him up in the same movement, his arm closing in around his neck.

Wrench then turned toward the man and jumped backward with what remained of his momentum.

All of it was instantly put into the enemy’s upper torso, taking him right off his feet.

He landed in front of Wrench with a thump. His back against Wrench’s chest.

Sticking his left arm around the front of the man, Wrench hammered a blow down into the pit of the man’s guts. Then did it twice more.

It caused the man to curl up a bit, rather than stretching his back out. It gave Wrench just enough wriggle room to snake his legs around the man.

Slamming his left hand down wherever he could land a strike now, Wrench felt awkward and stupid. He wasn’t skilled in grappling or hand to hand.

This was so far outside of his experience that it was almost comical.

The only time he’d ever dealt with choke-holds was training which included basic grappling. That was so long ago in his history that he couldn’t remember a damn thing he’d been taught.

“Just-fucking-die,” growled Wrench as he continued to bring his first down into the man he was holding onto. At the same time he was trying to strangle him with the arm around his throat.

He was just doing a poor fucking job of it apparently.

Giving up on punching him, Wrench instead took his thumb, and slammed it into the man’s eye. Pushing straight into it with a wet squish.

Shrieking, the man gave up on trying to pull Wrench’s arm off his neck and instead reached up to knock his hand away from his eyes. Slapping wildly at Wrench’s forearm.

A thought of “this is the moment” crossed Wrench’s mind and he leaned back from the man. Grabbing his left bicep with his right hand, he clamped his left hand to the back of the man’s head.

Then he pulled down with his legs and pushed forward, trying to push the man’s head down into his own lap. Putting all the strength he could manage in his body into it.

Spasming once the man went rigid, then slack. His whole body going oddly loose.

Unsure what to do, Wrench just hung onto him. Choking his limp and unmoving body for all that he could. Not easing up a single whit.

Looking over, Wrench saw the two that were grappling, were still doing so. Rolling around on the ground and throwing wild punches at one another. Neither of them landing anything that had much of an effect at all it seemed.

Chuckles was moving with his opponent, matching him step for step. Keeping him at arm’s length and not really letting him close. To which the man did nothing at all other than to slowly try to creep forward.

They both lacked experience and clearly didn’t really know what to do with the other.

For now, Wrench could spend the time hanging onto his foe. Making sure the life had been choked out of him completely. Not even leaving the possibility of him surviving it in any way.

Even as he kept applying pressure, Wrench realized he was out of time.

The two that were rolling around the ground had a change in their dynamic. The Brawler from Dickheads Hab was on the ground on their back.

Fuck, times up.

Rolling over to one side, Wrench released the man. Leaning back he then powered a fist into the man’s neck. Using all the force he could put into the strike.

Getting to his feet, Wrench paused to stomp a booted foot down into the man’s gut. Just to make sure that he wouldn’t be trying to get a breath even if he could.

The Brawler that’d been stabbed was seated now on his rear end, his hand pressed to where the knife had been stuck in him. Trying to use his hand to apply enough pressure to keep the wound shut.

Spotting the bladed weapon, Wrench scooped it up.

Not hesitating, he went over quickly to the two that were on the ground. Right now the enemy Brawler was wailing away at Dickhead’s fighter. A rain of blows slamming down into their face.

Wrench went right up to them and stuck the knife in their throat. Pulling it out, he stabbed it in again. Then a third time.

And a fourth time.

The stabs had been rapid, furious, and full force.

Except the Brawler had been so tied up in their own assault that they practically didn’t notice. Not until their blood began spurting out. Showering the man beneath them in a crimson waterfall.

Only then did they press their hands to their throat as if they could stop the deluge of their life’s blood. Wrench knew better though. He wasn’t sure of having struck anything vital, but with how many stabs he’d gotten in, there was almost no possibility of him having missed everything.

Not wanting to leave it to chance, he drew the knife back, then put it into the man’s chest. Thrusting it deep and trying to hit a lung.

Wrench wasn’t a Mender but he was pretty sure that getting your lungs stabbed was a real good way to die quick. To that end, he pulled the knife out and struck several more times.

Reasonably satisfied that this man was no longer a concern, Wrench looked to Chuckles.

Somehow, someway, he’d gotten the knife away from his opponent. Either before or after beating the crap out of him.

The Brawler was currently sawing the small blade back and forth against his opponent’s throat. Cutting his head away from his shoulders entirely.

Shit, Chuckles. Good show.

Turning away, Wrench head back to the man he’d choked out.

Chuckles had reminded him in his own efforts that Wrench had to make sure his fallen enemies were dead.

I’ll cut his head off, then go cut the head off of the other one I hit with my elbow.

Wrench carried out his grisly task, then returned to where Dickhead’s Brawlers were. Chuckles and the other were trying to help the third. The former applying pressure with both hands, with the latter was holding his legs up.

Err, I wonder if they’re helping or hurt.

I have no damn idea.

I really do need to find a Mender and talk to them. Learn some things. Especially since my system functions in a way that’s linked to medical stuff.

“And there you have it! The four-man squad from xxhht and xxhht are victorious! The Fixer performed in a show-stopping and brilliant way in fact! As if he were xxhht themselves!

“An amazing performance. We tallied up his victory and it was three individuals! We’ll be rewarding him the prize for his group, but there’s the possibility he’ll win the grand-prize too!

“No one’s ever taken out three before!” called the same voice from earlier. “Congratulations to the Fixer’s owner, xxhht! His name is… Wrench! I’m sure you can expect a number of stud offers, xxhht!

“Do you have anything you’d like to say?”

“That’s my Wrenchie!” came Goodie’s voice across in a similar way. As if they were speaking into some type of amplification device. “He’s the best! He’s my spssss! He’ll win this whole thing, I know it!

“As to studding… as to… as to studding, I’m willing to take offers, but unless Wrench is willing, it won’t happen. He’s very decisive and aware of his worth. If he doesn’t want to sire something on your Hume-mare, than he won’t. I won’t take any xxhht if he refuses, but I’m more than willing to try!”

Ah… thanks, Goodie.

You really are the best. You could have just farmed me out to the highest paying Tongsta but you’re letting me have a choice. That’s… that’s not something I’d expect.

“Sounds like your Hume is really important to you,” continued the announcer. “If that’s the case, why’d you bring him somewhere like this? He could easily get killed or maimed.”

“Because he wanted to be here. He wanted to be here, and I wanted to support him,” Goodie answered without pause. “Even if he gets hurt, he’ll still be my good boy. So long as he comes back alive, I’ll smother him in affection. He’s my spssss.”

“That’s rather heart-warming. Well, let’s get them packed up and sent into the games living area!” replied the announcer. “We have more fights to go through after all. I’m sure the Menders in the Hab there can take a look Big-Mouth and get him patched up.”

Before Wrench could consider any of that, the Hab they were in went dark, had the air pulled out of it, and Wrench knew nothing more.

***

A sudden need to cough wracked Wrench’s chest.

Sitting bolt up right, he sucked in a clean breath of air as his eyes snapped open. There were several green-skinned small humanoids around him.

They had short brown hair, large black-bulging eyes, and an open mouthed and gap toothed way of breathing. They were most certainly disturbing to look at.

He’d never seen them before, but he wasn’t very surprised. There were a number of species that were “pets” to the Tongsta. Most of them couldn’t communicate with one another and only shared spaces with one another.

Much like the Grae and the Hume.

“Uh, hi,” Wrench mumbled as the bug-eyed creatures stared at him. Then they moved away from him and went to Chuckles, who wasn’t far away.

They were still in the Hab that they’d fought in. Not far off were the corpses he’d made as well.

Wrench frowned, then got to his feet.

He’d only blacked out for a few minutes, but was already back on his feet. Everyone else around him were unconscious and sleeping, if not peacefully, deeply.

Errr… alright, so because my Systems were in ramped mode, I woke up before everyone else.

That feels about right.

Feels accurate.

Sniffing once, then exhaling, Wrench couldn’t detect anything out of the ordinary in the air. His thoughts to that made him feel as if something had been introduced to the Hab, then removed. To put the Humes to sleep, but not the green creatures.

Letting them into the Hab to move the Humes elsewhere.

Slowly, the goblin like creatures gathered up around each living Hume. The dead Humes were being left where they were for the moment.

They didn’t seem interested in the items that the Humes had been holding. The knife Wrench had dropped was near his boot, and the one that Chuckles had used, was beside his hand.

Not waiting, Wrench picked up both weapons, then lined up behind the creatures.

His best bet was to follow them wherever they took Chuckles. Sticking around here was just asking for a Tongsta to notice he wasn’t unconscious, then all bets were off.

The green monsters picked up the Hume, then began shuffling off toward a back corner of the Hab.

Wrench kept quiet, held to the knives, and trucked along behind them. Wondering where he’d end up.

Slowly, they exited the Hab and went into a small air-lock transfer. Clearly it’d been made for these creatures as Wrench was forced to bend over and hunch to keep with them.

Exiting the air-lock, he found he was in a much smaller Hab. Wrench was stuck in a bent-over position as they trumped through what was meant to look like a dark and cave-like environment.

They passed through that and exited another air-lock into a Hume Hab.

Or so Wrench would guess given the height of it.

In each corner of this small room was a bed. One for each Hume, it would seem.

There was a door set in the far wall that was quite heavy looking and was made of some type of metal that Wrench couldn’t identify by sight alone.

The green creatures deposited a Hume into each bed.

Then they turned and looked to Wrench in an expectant way.

And waited.

Staring back at them he really didn’t know what they wanted.

Guessing that maybe they were a less than full free-will type of species, he went and sat on the bed that was empty. Which accomplished nothing.

Taking it a step further, he laid down on the bed.

No sooner than his head hit the pillow then the creatures began filing out of the Hab. Exiting to the small air-lock in the back.

Once they’d filed out, there was a loud hiss of the atmosphere changing. Something either being added or removed. Followed by a loud clonk noise from the heavy door.

Then the handle turned and swung inward.