That instant the bullets pierced the gas tank and the car went up in flames, causing a chain explosion that brought the other car along for the ride.
A blast of flames engulfed Welldone, and his bulletproof coat was ripped to shreds as his body was flung against the wall—like a doll that a spoiled child had long since tired of.
Even then, Welldone wouldn’t let go of the guns in his hands. He clambered to his feet, his whole body pierced with fragments of unidentified shrapnel.
Breathing hard, he glared at the blazing fire and readied his guns again.
Without warning another volley roared forth from the flames. They were aimed for the gaps in his now-ragged bulletproof coat.
His arms were hit, his shoulders were hit.
Desperately moving to change his position, he fired back, but the bullets just kept on coming.
A different type of bullet now, with an explosion of sparks on the surface of his bulletproof coat as it slammed into his body. Charged particles flowed across his skin, frying all his exposed flesh.
Next it was a rifle shot. It sliced through his left shoulder blade and made a hole in the wall behind him.
One by one, in quick succession, bullets of different calibers flew through his body.
Yelling what sounded like a war cry, Welldone peeled himself off the wall and charged at the whirlpool of fire.
On the other side of the dark red smoke Balot’s face was a picture of delight as she fired her gun over and over.
“That’s enough, Balot!”
An apparently inexhaustible supply of bullets emerged from a magical glove and disappeared again, like a sigh in a thunderstorm.
She wore a satisfied expression, reacting to every roar and explosion as if to say That was me.
She was in control—overwhelmingly so.
The power to manipulate objects—and sentient beings—as she liked, bending them to her will.
This is it, she thought. This is the feeling that the men in my life have always been savoring.
Where previously she had been brutally oppressed, now she was experiencing the ultimate high.
Overwhelmed by a gust of pleasure so intense that it almost felt like pain, Balot grasped this all too clearly.
“Stop it, Balot! That’s enough!” Her ears registered Oeufcoque’s shouts for the first time, even though he’d been yelling at her all the while.
She hadn’t noticed because every time she had fired a shot, the shock wave of pleasure had numbed her senses.
Now her aim faltered. What’s the matter? she wondered.
Oeufcoque was trembling. He was shot through with an emotion that Balot, in her current state, simply couldn’t comprehend.
“Balot, I’m begging you, you can’t misappropriate me so. It’s…abuse. Keep to our original tactics, self-defense…”
–Don’t you worry.
Balot stopped firing one of her guns for a second to give it a fleeting kiss.
–I’ll be gentle with you. Leave it all to me.
Then she snarced her whole body with a sense of domination enough to make the blood turn sour.
“Stop i—”
This time she actually did block out Oeufcoque’s voice, forcefully silencing him.
She snarced both guns, turning them into weapons she could use most easily.
Just then Welldone emerged from the smoke, both arms crossed in front of him to ward off the worst of the flames as he leapt through them.
He rolled over the rubble, clocked Balot’s location, and stood up, his teeth bared. An expression somewhere between fury and a smile.
For a moment they stared at each other in absolute silence.
Then they pointed their guns at each other.
Balot started laughing.
04
“It’s no good, I can’t get through!” Flesh wailed in despair. He was inside the shipping container on the trailer.
“Well’s response—it’s as if he’s brain dead! And there are sound prints of over ten different weapons recorded in his audio circuits…”
Boiled continued to stare at the monitor.
Flesh shouted. “How can there only be one of them? This is unbelievable? This PI Oeufcoque is a freak! A sadist! He’s put Welldone in a coma and he’s shooting up the carcass with a pile of weapons!”
Boiled suddenly interrupted Flesh’s stream of words: “Fetishism is essentially compensation for a sense of helplessness.”
Flesh stopped his wailing and stared at Boiled suspiciously.
Boiled spoke. “Those who fight in a way that’s subconsciously designed to compensate for their feelings of inadequacy—Oeufcoque’s skillful enough to trap them into his way of fighting. It’s as I thought—Oeufcoque is providing tactical guidance, and the client doesn’t really understand. This is a deviation from the designated Life Preservation Program—it’s abuse.”
“What are you talking about? I thought there was only one enemy?”
“The enemy is abusing Oeufcoque. Before long Oeufcoque will be forced to retreat from the battlefield in self-defense. The enemy will lose her ultimate weapon…”
Flesh’s wobbly figure recoiled at Boiled’s voice, sensing a dangerous undercurrent in his flat monotone.
“It seems that the target has been somehow reinforced with the Doctor’s technological trickery. It seems that Paradise technology—Scramble 09—has brought another monster into this world.”
“Paradise…what do you mean…”
But Boiled just took out a long gun from his breast pocket, and Flesh swallowed the rest of his words.
It was a giant silver revolver, and it looked strong enough to pierce the armor on a tank.
The sort of gun that only a being with extraordinary physical strength could wield properly.
Boiled opened the cylinder to confirm that it was fully loaded before snapping it shut again.
“A…are you going to go yourself, sir…?”
Boiled turned to look at Flesh and nodded.
“Then please be as quick as you can—I think Well’s in serious trouble.”
Boiled stood up and took the spare key to the trailer from off the wall where it was hanging.
Flesh watched him, wary.
“What are you going to do with this trailer?”
“Your gang has expended its usefulness. I wanted to gauge how Oeufcoque’s new user would react when faced with danger. Now, before long, Oeufcoque and his user will be separated forever. I got what I came for.”
He cocked the trigger of the gun, and it thudded into place with a heavy click.
He pointed the muzzle of the gun at Flesh, casually, almost off-hand.
Flesh trembled.
Boiled pulled the trigger.
The gun roared, and a hollow space appeared between Flesh’s shoulders.
Behind him a gaping hole opened up in the wall of the container, exposing it to the elements. The whole trailer rocked from side to side, and the eye-watering smell of gunpowder filled the room.
Flesh’s body slumped to the ground. He had been destroyed utterly from his chest upward, taking the machinery behind him along for the ride. His cloak had come open, and his fat wrists could just be seen peeping through from underneath the mass of exposed breasts.
Boiled reloaded the single empty chamber with another bullet and exited the container.
He walked around the front of the container, climbed up into the driver’s seat, and inserted the key into the ignition.
“I’m coming. I’m going to acquire you, Oeufcoque. You’re a tool, after all.”
He twisted the key and the engine rumbled into action.