Burning Mirrors [Part 1]

Chaotic mechanized fists of pure strife are at a powerful conflict as they exchange wordless actions of personal philosophy. Each is dedicated to prove that their logic is correct. Unable to diminish their actions that have been intensifying within them for decades, like a ceaseless hunger that only desires vengeance. Relics of a time that struggled to find an appropriate space for them. As men such as died years ago, no longer comforted by the warm embrace of humanity, only remaining are cybernetic abominations tainted by the cruelty of war.

The moment their eyes meet, their destinies have been determined, immediately clashing into the madness of their ideologies. Blinded by their need for violence, to the point that they have lost the memories of how they even arrived, or what their initial goal was. For them to solely concentrate on the hollow being that is in front of them. Sharp reverberations of cybernetics tore the night air with each and every movement the two shot to one another. Brutal collisions of metallic fist and skulls echoing in the smallest of spaces. A frustrating back and forth of advantages in the midst of their combat.

Chima, on the verge of fainting, backed away from Zuma’s self shielding stance. Terrorized with the burden of justice, he knows that there is little to no other options for this fateful encounter. Fists held high, prepared for the next strike, he inhaled as he could. In spite of the sharp pains that this prolonged battle affects his lungs, he continues to force his body to move.

Both are drained from the energy they have to force from their bodies, as they are two insurmountable products of their time, ready to fight endlessly with minimal time for recovery. Zuma—A pure beast scarred by the sun and shunned by the moon began to stand tall, a shadow made darker as the night faded, eyes that glared like hellish venom, full of hatred for anyone or anything that disagrees with his righteous beliefs.

The powerful buzz of Chima’s newly installed cyberized legs began to glow in a rageful heat. Ignoring his drained body, he knows that this fight could last for days if they give one another long enough to recover. Zuma knows this as well, which made the need for Chima’s actions to be extremely calculated. Once Chima saw the opportunity: He catapulted himself directly at Zuma! With little time to properly counter, Zuma was able to just barely escape the attack, at the cost of his own balance. Launching to the ground to avoid a single strike. Luckily this also cost Chima some advantage in the struggle as he impaled his leg in the destroyed rubble behind him.

Seeing the small opportunity, Zuma had to take the chance to end the fight. Using the tight space to his advantage, Zuma leveraged himself on the walls to strike Chima from the air. As if a twister made of scrap metal, Zuma struck Chima’s head with a dizzying kick. Easily causing Chima to stumble, rattled from the attack, flooding his sensors with static for a brief moment. Which was plenty of time for Zuma to begin his next onslaught. Chima had minimal time to react to Zuma’s hateful beating, only able to get one arm meekly near his face to diminish further damage. Zuma’s focus started to be clouded by his bottled rage, losing sight of his objective, seeing red. Hammering the electrified blood far and away from Chima’s body.

Chima regained some strength to counter some of Zuma’s strikes, but only enough to maintain himself within the fight. Miraculously, Chima found a profitable opening to drive a single devastating attack on Zuma. Sending Zuma deeper into the alleyway, nearly fainting himself, as scattering flashes of red fill his vision. Equally blurred by the brutality, Chima fell to one knee, again focusing on that sharp pain in his lungs.

Unavoidable is the human sensation to flee. In spite of that, both ignore those pitiful feelings to continue to win their modernized goal of philosophy. Leaving the only beasts like werewolves, still human, yet killing the human within each night. To wonder what horrible actions the beast made, questioning what remains.

With the beast out and the human still conscious, they see what remains: Two war bound cyborgs, clinging their fists of his adversary’s blood.

⧮ ⧯ ⧮

“CARMEN!!!”

“Nevaeh?! Is everything alright??” Carmen shouted over the phone to Nevaeh’s urgent holler.

“I think we know where Chima is!” Nevaeh quickly relayed, clearing running and talking over the phone.

“Really?!”

“Yeah, Izel and him went to this shop earlier and he purchased adapters for his legs that are powered by a micro reactor!” Nevaeh explained.

“Yeah, we were able to put together a general path by tracing small amounts of radiation and its leading to the Towers!” Izel promptly added.

“Where Nevaeh’s lives?” Carmen asked.

“Yeah, we don’t know the exact area or by which Tower, but as soon as he uses it, the radioactivity should spike, then we will be able to pick up his precise location faster.” Nevaeh mentioned.

“Do you know why he’s out there?” Carmen asked as she prepared herself for travel and messaging the rest of the Team.

“We think he's going to settle some unfinished business with someone from his days in the service.” Nevaeh guessed.

“Dammit… I thought we were past this.” Carmen seethed to herself. “Just watch each other's backs okay? We still don’t know what we’ll encounter.” She then hung up the phone.

With that expedient exchange, Carmen and the Team ran into action to locate Chima.

⧮ ⧯ ⧮

Clashing in another maelstrom of biomechanical sparks and drained blood. A battle that is more than evident that the two cyberized beasts are evenly matched, raging with a mixture of advantages and disadvantages. Nearly impossible to even guess who the victor may be. Chima, being the slightly more level minded at this moment, saw some clarity that this fight needs to end soon. As he hated the idea to subtly gain an advantage by dodging in such a way to be in more open areas, but it was the most optimal strategy to hopefully drain Zuma and recover his own strength. Zuma recognized Chima’s defensive tactics and quickly planned accordingly, to promote overly aggressive, chaotic strikes that Chima won’t be able to predict.

Chima began to lose his stature in the fight, but knew that Zuma couldn’t maintain this aggression for ever, so he simply bought his time and waited for the opportune moment to counter Zuma’s barrage of attacks. In the nanosecond Chima saw: He struck Zuma in the side of his chest with his knee, only lessening his speed for a faint moment as he recovered quickly. Yet, just enough time for Chima to completely halt his attacks. Now tightly clenched onto one another’s arms or fists: Zuma is ready to roar. Beginning to grow with anger, then in that moment he recalled in frustration his primary objective.