VT vs 219

Stepping into the half-light of the construction zones poorly lit belly, VT sensed he was not alone.
Putting his thumbs in his pockets, he held his greatcoat back, letting the cool night air circulate round his torso.
He casually surveyed the skeletal structure of the preliminary construction towering over him, the 3 foot thick I bars dark against the sky.
Patiently standing in the evening’s twilight, he waited motionlessly for the confrontation he expected, the moist, smoggy air condensing into oily droplets on the chill metalwork of the infant building.
Drawing his senses into himself, he pushed out his nanohalo in an ever-enlarging sphere; feeling for the foe he knew must wait for him here.
His torus of nanite sensors, held aloft by his own magnetic field, gradually drifted outwards, the nanites passing through the simple steel girders without pause, constantly seeking the enemy hereabouts.
Finally a register spike of bizarre magnitudes caused VTs head to whip up, his enhanced eyes unclouding the darkness, his vision as clear as if it were daylight.
From out of the shadows casually sauntered a figure, richly dressed, sporting nothing more threatening than a pair of pricey shades.
“2...1..…. 9” VT said slowly. His nanites had downloaded a full personnel profile from the National Defense Mainframe, and this man was unmistakable.
“And you would be Vengeance Terminal. More of a handful than we expected, but much less impressive in person.” A minor sneer crossed 219’s lips at the thought of the effort that he had been expended to get him here.
“Your people have been rather, committed, to killing me before.” VT replied, with a brief complentative pause.
“Useless pawns I’m afraid. The Operatives, of course. Mindless drones, no match for you, as I’m sure you’ve already found.” 219 flattered VT, who had to use all of his control to suppress his self-pride. Overconfidence, ego, and useless bravado are no use in combat.
“And now you, shall try to kill me?” Why did this suit think he could be a threat?
Gently removing his jacket and carefully placing it on the cleanest girder he could find, 219 turned back to VT.
“It’s an Armani, and I wouldn’t want to dirty it.” The large .555 pistol in 219s shoulder holster gleamed in the moonlight as he turned back to VT, who stared him in the eyes.
“No point in wasting time” Muttered 219 as he drew the large double barreled weapon with supernatural speed, and fired a perfectly aimed shot into VTs chest, the recoil causing ripples through the muscles of his arm.
Gently swayed by the impact, VT remained impartial as his nanites repaired his clothes and flesh, his eyes still fixed on 219s, whose own widened slightly, as if it wasn’t entirely unexpected.
Retaking his aim, he loosed his second round into VTs shoulder, to equal effect; the nanites replaced flesh and clothes without hesitation.
Shirking off a look of irritation, 219 returned the pistol to its leather shoulder holster, tore the straps apart and flung it onto a loitering barrow.

“I’ve killed everyone who ever wronged Father, and I will NOT let you ruin my record!” 219 regained his composure as he slowly clicked every joint of each finger in sequence.
With quick paces he closed the gap to VT, 219 changed his posture to a side on, high-low handed defensive pattern.
Hands by his sides, VT cocked his head slightly as his nanohalo informed him exactly the angle, position, and velocity of every strike 219 could throw at him, so seeing a fist approaching his face in apparent slow motion; VT had no difficulty in moving aside. Dodging the constant stream of blows from 219, VT didn’t raise a finger against him, simply leaning this way and that, the vicious blows whistling by several inches from his body.
Standing straight, VT casually drew back his right arm opened his hand, wide and flat, and slammed his palm into 219s sternum. A loud ‘crack’ issued from the broken bones of 219s chest, before flying backwards like a toy struck by a careless child, striking a massive vertical ‘I’ bar with enough force to gouge 6 inch rents in the steel, before falling into a heap on the floor.
VT lowered his arm slowly, and started to turn away, but before he’d taken a pace he saw a flash of nanites across his vision, warning him of a threat.
Spinning 180°, VT saw 219 lurch to his feet, blood drooling from the corner of his mouth, seeping from splits in his chest.
“You think you’re so strong, you have no idea of real strength!” Spat 219, before wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth using the sleeve of his ludicrously expensive shirt.
Fixing VT with a crushing glare, the wounds on 219s chest closed and healed, leaving fresh pink scars, and the blood in his mouth seemed to reduce in volume.
His flesh seemed to ripple and then boil, chitinous spikes erupting from his skin at every joint, to then split and lay flat to his skin, an organic exoskeleton.
Scalpel sharp spikes sprung from his wrists and shoulders, making him a bony bladed nightmare.
Tremendous changes in the nanohalo report confirmed the vague files VT had on 219.
His entire body now seethed with biotech, single-celled organisms slaved to 219s will.
By forcing their growth in certain ways, he could heal rapidly, and increase his strength and defense with an enhancing exoskeleton.
“And now you shall fall!” 219 screamed at VT as he launched a dervish of bladed strikes in low-low-high alternating combinations.
VT beat off the blades as they whistled through the night air, each capable of causing tissue damage and venomous ichors, to eat the target from within.
Being pushed back by the flurry of attacks and his own defense, VT found himself against a vertical beam, as 219 strove to impale him with his blades, which were shattering and regrowing with every other impact onto steel.
Changing tactics, 219 backhanded VT in the face and reached over his shoulder and grabbed an eight-foot I bar, then proceeded to pummel VT, starting with his ribcage and working down.
219 seemed rather gratified to here the crunching of bone as VT’s sternum cracked, not realizing it healed instantly after each impact.
Tiring, as most would, of being hit in the face with a large piece of metal, VT ducked under a strike, causing 219 to loose his weapon as it impact welded itself to the upright beam, then executed a diving lariat at 219s chest, sending him sprawling onto the dirt floor.
VT rolled to his feet and stood casually, directly in 219s line of sight.
“Your not the only one with a nice suit” VT proudly informed 219.
His eyes flashed golden, the nanites responding to his thought patterns and energizing in a chorus of activity, causing nanoscale chemical and metaphysical reactions to course through his form.
Fluid nanite mechanocarbons and titanium-boron compounds ran from his body and formed and armored exoskeleton, his strength, speed, and stamina all increasing exponentially.
Melting from the seams of his body, VTs nanoarmour ran into rivulets to form hexagonal plates that bonded with those around them, then solidified into an impenetrable carapace of plated armor.
In the twilight, the golden veins in VTs plates seamed to glow as the nanomachines continually improved and reinforced his armor.
At his mental command, he nanoforged the blades on his forearms, the three parallel
strips of lethally sharp titanium compound making an almost silent rasp of metal on metal, as they apparently slid out of nothingness to rest over a foot past his plated knuckles.
Although it had taken less than twenty seconds to complete his transformation, 219 was back on his feet, his wounds healed and looking more pissed than ever.
“Goddamn, that getup would look great on me. I better be careful as I peel it off of your corpse!” Shrieked 219, as he bared his own bladed forearms and launched into a furious assault on VTs motionless form.
With the effortless grace of a parent swatting an aggressive toddler, VT battered back the dervish of strikes meant to kill him, his nigh on indestructible blades shattering 219s own organic scythes.
Curious, VT let his guard drop, to see exactly how much of a threat 219 was now he had armored on.
The fervent slashes of 219 yielded only slight scratches through the hardened nitridized golden armor on VTs chest.
But that alone would not guarantee VT a victory; his own attacks were hindered by the very same thing that made them so deadly.
The sheer sharpness of VTs foreblades caused such a clean cut, that the biotech within 219 could heal the wounds within seconds.
With a strikingly fast blow, VT slashed part of 219s throat, sending spurts of noxious green biotech across him.
Shocked by the vicious attack, 219 saw his own blood spatter onto VT, just as the black and gold figure placed both feet on his chest and launched himself backwards, flipping through the air.
Airborne momentarily, VT retracted his foreblades, and forged his two colossal pistols, their length taking up most of his large back.
Both hands reaching behind him, VT drew his mighty pistols and swung them to fire at 219, the heavy .50cal rounds tearing holes through his relatively flimsy chitin armor.
As 219 flew backward from the impacts, VT landed kneeling, his arms and cannons pointing outwards, head down.
Looking up, VT barely saw the blast of biotech that flew towards him.
In that split second, he did an internal diagnostic of the damage the earlier spattering that had landed on him.
To his horror, his own nanites had struggled to repel the self-replicating biotech toxins.
The blob that caught him and wrapped around his left arm was over 200 times the size of the splash he had barely resisted.
Thrashing to physically dislodge the hideous mass that had begun eating his armor, VT was completely consumed with attempting to remove the potentially fatal parasites clamoring to eat his flesh.
Only by smashing the mass repeatedly against a column could he dislodge the majority of the deadly goo.
Sensing 219 had nearly regained his bodily control; VT knew he needed to finish this fight quickly.
With a final flick of his left wrist to clear the slime, VT nanoforged his single 30mm chaingun under his right arm, the boxy chamber seeming to extrude the long cylindrical barrel, the golden nanites completing the assembly of the barrel in seconds.
As the internal mechanism of his devastating chaingun wound up to speed, 219 cast another hunk of biotech towards VT, who had no choice but to take the hit on the giant cannon.
The impact and instant attrition of the biotech toxin forced VT to disconnect and drop the heavy cannon, so that as he looked up, he saw 219s furious visage of spikes and blades lurching towards him, his feet becoming more sure with every step.
Halting, 219 reached across himself, and snapped off his remaining chitin blades.
As VT sensed another surge of biotech activity, 219 calmly said.
“OK VT, lets settle this like men,” as a spike of chitin-like bone burst through the palm of his left hand.
The spike grew until with a sigh of relief, 219 popped the end of the four-foot blade out of the hole in his hand. As if its creation had pained him, 219 rubbed the closing wound on his palm, then swung his bone-blade to be level with the ground, its jagged point aimed directly at VT.
But he did not move.
“Come on VT. Lets see that blade of yours. I’ve seen the remains you’ve left behind, personnel and vehicles in segments, cleanly cut as if they willed themselves into pieces.”
With reluctant solemnity, VT held his hands in front of him, as if fascinated by the fluidic golden nanites that streamed down his arms to pool in his hand.
With another mental command, VT summoned his long Nanoblade, the simple hilt growing first, and then the blade extruding up, to finish the weapon as a simple six-foot double edged blade of golden fire.
VT sensed his chaingun’s struggle against the biotech infecting it. It was winning, but slowly, it would need several minutes to self.
He had to stall 219 until he could bring more damaging firepower to bear.
Seeing his enemy prepared, 219 exploded into a flurry of terrifying blows, his blade hacking chunks out of the floor and plasterboard walls as VT drew him around the site.
Responding in kind, VTs blade sang through the air, its monomolecular edge so sharp it severed the bonds in the between the oxygen molecules of the air.
The recombination of the atoms to make ozone put an instant lightning strike smell into the air of the construction site.
VTs perfect blade created a constant sonic clap as it moved through the night, causing distortion in the light as the airs density changed along the path of the blade.
Back and forth they slashed and thrust their long blades, each merely hindering the other, as VTs blade parted 219s flesh, it would heal instantly due to the cleanliness of the wound, and 219s own blade simply skitting off of VTs black and golden armor.
With an expertly calculated blow, VT severed the blade of 219s sword and inch from the hilt, causing him some obvious distress.
“Perhaps it is more than his weapon?” Thought VT.
Dropping the grip of his ruined weapon, 219 lunged, arms outstretched, hoping to dismantle VT with his chitin armored hands.
Smashing into VTs sword arm, the Nanoblade tumbled through the air, falling into the ground until only the narrow hand guard and long grip showed, its hilt the only thing stopping it from falling to the center of the planet, as it was sharp enough and strong enough to resist the journey.
Cartwheeling aside to dodge 219s renewed hand attacks, VT attempted to grab his now operational 30mm chaingun.
Mid flip, his body airborne with feet skywards, VT closed his fingers on the armored chain supplying shells to his cannon,
But was smashed out of the air by a foul hunk of biotech that smothered his helmet and choked his respiration ports.
Stunned momentarily and clawing at his helm to remove the aggressive organisms, 219 easily surprised VT, hefted him bodily, and smashed him into a vertical I bar, the 4 inch steel buckling around him.
Before he could rise, 219 was again upon him, lifting VT by his neck so that his feet dangled several dozen inches from the floor.
“Now Mr. Vengeance Terminal,”
SMASH, as 219 slammed VT again into the weakening vertical girder.
“This is what you get,”
SMASH
“For interfering with the Government,”
SMASH
“And having a stupid name!”
SMASH
“At least I’m not a number!” VT stated to 219s cracked chitin face.
219 caught a glimpse of movement at the bottom of his vision, and heard a quiet rasp of metal.
“Because you’re number…” VT drew back his right wrist, ready to strike the firing pin of the 30mm shell he held in his left.
“IS UP!!”
BDOOOM
The blast at such close range nearly tore 219 in half, and sent what was left through two of the plasterboard walls.
Calmly stepping around the mess, VT retrieved his long Nanoblade, and carried it readied in his right hand.
Casually walking through the holes in the walls, VT found the crumpled 219, who despite being nearly torn in two, was healing fast.
“You just don’t get me, do you?”
Whatever you do, I’ll just heal and come back to get you.”
219 goaded VT, obviously wanting to incite an attack to wear his energy down.
With a simple underarm flick, VT launched his Nanoblade towards 219.
As it approached him however, the blades path suddenly veered upwards, out of sight into the upper parts of the skeletal building, its noise diminishing to nothing.
“HA HA! Finally missed one!”
Very high above there was a quiet ’SHRING’.
“I’m not going to stop this tonight, I can go as long as you want.”
“And when I’m done killing you, I’m going to kill all those you call friends.”
Hey, I did it before, why not do it again!” 219 laughed, then let his expression settle into a smirk.
There was another ‘SHRING’, high above, and the whistle of the blade slowly grew louder.
“No, you won’t.” VT calmly and unequivocally said.
“What you gonna do? How you gonna stop me? I’m immortal! Ah ha ha ha ha!”
“I don’t need to stop you, 219.
I already have.”

With a thunderous crash, an eighty ton vertical section of I-bar that had until recently been over 500 feet away at the top of the building, found its way into the basement, taking the smeared pulp of 219 with it.
As the rubble stopped quivering, VTs Nanoblade quietly fell up to the hilt in the top of the I bar, almost mocking the arrogance of 219, now dead beneath.
Reaching out with his right arm, VT de-armored, and reabsorbed the material of his blade into himself, the quietly did the same with his chaingun.
Pushing his nanohalo outward, VT sensed nothing.
He briefly considered taking the jacket that lay over a barrow, but than left, empty handed.
He had killed 219.

An hour later, a routine Operative patrol happened across the scene.
Surveying the devastation, the Squad Sergeant realized only the individual he had been briefed in that morning could have done this.
As the standard Operatives swept the area, he again thought how much like loyal little puppies the cloned personnel were.
One such Operative was standing over an immense hole that led to the basement, when suddenly; a vaguely humanoid shape oozed over its edge and grabbed his leg.
Pulling itself up, the figure seemed to drain the life from the Operative, and as he slumped to the floor the creature became stronger, and stood up. Immediately the next closest Operative rushed to assist, and was caught in the fist of the newly re-grown 219, who broke his neck as a form of stress relief.
The Sergeant, just recognizing 219 for who he was, ran over, but stopped slightly out of arms reach, and snapped off a hasty salute.
It was just then that he noticed that other than for a few rags of extremely expensive clothes, 219 was completely naked.
Turning to him, 219 said,
“Get me some goddamn decent clothes, and where the fucks my jacket!
Holy shit this hurts!”
And he continued to mutter to himself as he took his unblemished jacket from its resting place on the barrow and slipped it on.
He liked the feel of the quality fabric on his freshly scarred skin, and relaxed, knowing he’d be fine in a couple of days.
Slipping his dark glasses out of the breast pocket and clipping them over his now cloudy, scarred eyes, he climbed into the back of the armored limousine that had just pulled up for him.
“Back to HQ, quickly. I gotta nail this prick before he fucks me over again!”
As the vehicle moved of, Vengeance Terminal watched from his rooftop vantage.

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All images and text copyright Nathan Davis 2005