Kyle had been right about the recoil. The shotgun kicked back into my shoulder; I hadn’t taken a proper stance and the flicker of pain told me I was going to have a bruise. I had taken time to aim, and the shotgun blast caught the construct right in the chest. It staggered, and I put a second shot into its torso that sent it falling out the window.
It would have been nice if that fall had been all the way to ground level, but I already knew that the window led straight out onto a roof. Worse, the construct wasn’t alone. I advanced cautiously, picking my way around the mattress; I didn’t make it even halfway there when I heard gunshots and shards of glass pattered to the floor. I changed direction, crossing the mattress and coming to a stop before I showed myself. Whoever was controlling that construct, they hadn’t changed its orders, which meant that it was going to be trying to get in again right about … now.
The construct reappeared in the window. Now that I was close I could see the ways in which its disguise wasn’t quite perfect: the features were slightly off, as though made by a sculptor who didn’t know his trade, and the movements stiff and clumsy. A bloodless hole in the neck marked where one of the pellets had gone high, and as the eyes locked onto me it reached out for my head.
I’d had time to brace properly this time, and I fired three times into the construct’s face from less than two feet away. The shotgun made a roaring pboom-pboom-pboom, and the thing’s face disintegrated, sending it sprawling back onto the roof.
More gunfire came from out in the darkness, and I ducked as the window shattered, glass raining around me. From looking into the futures where I poked my head out, I could see that the construct was lying on the rooftop, and this time I’d managed to do some real damage. Its face was a ruined mess: one eye had been mangled completely and the other was staring blankly up at the sky. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I’d destroyed it, but I had to give Kyle credit. This was going much better than the last time I’d tried shooting a construct.
There was a moment’s pause. I could hear shouting from below, but all my attention was on my battle up here. The construct wasn’t getting up, at least not yet. I looked ahead to see what would happen if I moved out on the roof and to the right. The gunshots had come from straight ahead, so there might be a chance to …
Dammit. There were two people out there, not one. The second guy was hiding to my right, around the corner of the building, ready to fire. I didn’t fancy my chances of advancing against both of them.
But then, I didn’t need to. These guys didn’t seem to have anything heavier than the constructs, which meant that Cinder ought to wipe them out if they got close. I only needed to hold my position.
The futures shifted. I looked ahead and … oh. I was about to be blown apart in fifteen seconds. I tapped the wall to check … good, bricks. That should be strong enough. I placed the shotgun on the floor, stood up, waited, then stuck my hand out.
The grenade came sailing through the broken window and I caught it one-handed, tossed it back out next to where the construct was lying, then dropped.
The explosion made my ears ring. Shrapnel pockmarked the ceiling, but the grenade fragments that would have hit me were stopped by the wall at my back.
I kept still and waited, looking ahead to see what would happen next. The interesting question was whether the other guy understood what had just happened. I suspected he probably hadn’t. When throwing a grenade, there’s something of an instinctive reflex to duck, so I doubted my would-be killer had kept his head sticking up long enough to watch me catch the thing and throw it back. More likely he’d decide that he must have missed, in which case he might try again.
He did.
I threw that one back too.
The second explosion seemed louder if anything, and a sharp pain went through my eardrum. I heard someone shout something; my ears were ringing too much to make out the words but he didn’t sound happy. I didn’t bother answering; instead I just picked up my shotgun and waited. Your move, guys.
There was another pause. There’s a lot of waiting in battles: when one wrong move can get you maimed or killed, people are understandably reluctant to make hasty decisions. From down below I heard another explosion, followed by more gunfire. I didn’t like the idea of someone coming up behind me, but I couldn’t take my attention off the window long enough to check.
The futures moved as the guys out there made a decision. There was a scraping sound and I knew the construct was getting back up. From a glance through the futures I saw that they were sending it through the window again, and they were following up behind it to cover it this time. Probably they were planning on using it as a shield against my fire, with the intention of shooting me if I exposed myself.
It was a tricky situation. I could keep blasting the construct, but that wouldn’t really accomplish anything. I had a dispel focus in my right pocket that could take the thing out, but it was a touch range weapon and I didn’t like the idea of grappling with a construct while I took fire from the guys behind. With darkness and the element of surprise I could probably destroy the construct before they could land a shot … but probably isn’t definitely, and I don’t like taking chances I don’t need to.
I still had some space to work with. I ran back through the room, jumping the mattress. I heard a shout from outside and knew they’d seen me, but I kept going out of the door. Once I was out in the corridor I stopped, flattened myself against the wall and held still.
Glass crunched from inside the room as the construct clambered its way through the window once again. It was slower now, the battle damage taking its toll. Crunch, crunch, crunch as shards of glass broke under its feet, then there was a pause and I knew it was turning, scanning the room.
Silence. I knew that if I poked my head out I’d see the construct but nothing else. They knew I was outside the room, but they didn’t know where. The last they’d seen, I was running, so there was a decent chance they’d assume I’d still be running. In which case their next move would be to send the construct further in while they moved up to the window …
There was the crunch of footsteps as the construct started moving again. Got you. I waited for two seconds, then came around the corner, gun raised.
The construct was less than five feet away, and now that I got a good look at it I could see just how badly mangled it was. The shotgun and grenades had shredded its face, and holes pockmarked its clothes where shrapnel had been driven into the body. But it was still moving, and while one eye was gone, the remaining one locked onto me as I came into view. Shooting a construct doesn’t work very welclass="underline" they don’t have organs, and they can’t bleed out or suffer from shock. In theory if you maul the body badly enough it’ll break the animating spell, but you’ll usually run out of bullets before happens. The construct’s hands came up as it stepped towards me, ignoring the threat of the gun.
I wasn’t aiming at the construct. I sighted over its shoulder just as a figure appeared in the window behind, and for the first time I got a look at the guy who’d been trying to kill me. He was wearing a bulletproof vest and a ski mask, and his eyes had just enough time to go wide before I pulled the trigger.