Page 135 of The Only Way Out Is Up

[Observation: Rotwurm was a Twisted, too.]

Fair enough. Just because something is familiar, doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. But whatever’s in the box is a lot smaller than Rotwurm.

You’re right. Stay sharp, and make sure Bug Zapper is ready.

I’d almost taken the Bug Zapper off the Mark 6; since it’s ineffective against runics with a proper core, for the Ascent I figured it was just taking up space. But I’d had one ready, so I’d left it in just in case. Now I’m very glad I did; I’ve only managed to rebuild one of the BLAST weapons, but Bug Zapper should be even more effective.

Alzimyth, irritated at my reaction, folds his arms and glares. The box’s shaking grows more violent, bolts along its sides coming loose as the Twisted within throws itself back and forth to escape its prison. Another few seconds and one wall gives way, the metal plate caroming off the blue-white barrier field in a spray of sparks. Something tumbles out, a curled-up mass of spikes and steel and hatred. It unrolls, limbs unfolding in a clicking ballet of joints and blades.

It’s not quite the same as the Twisted I’m familiar with. Those tend to take on simple, repetitive shapes, their long bodies built from many similar segments. This one is more purposeful, almost like a runic, though it’s still an asymmetrical mess of mismatched pieces no human designer would ever produce. It has a low, centipede-like body, studded with limbs at odd angles, but an upright trunk juts up from the front end. This torso has four scythe-shaped claws, like a mantis. There’s no head, just optics scattered all along its length at random.

Okay. Same as always. Start picking it apart and look for a chance to get in close.

[Affirmative.]

Star leaps forward and I hang back against the barrier field. The Twisted lashes out with all four claws, but Star shifts nimbly to one side, skittering down the monster’s length. Limbs strike at him as he passes, but his shield-arm intercepts the blows while two of his own legs slice scissorlike through the jutting appendages. At least three of the Twisted’s limbs lie twitching and sparking on the ground by the time Star skids to a halt; the thing twists round to face him, claws clattering, and he takes off again.

If Alzimyth thought sheer surprise was going to make Star miss a step here, he’s badly mistaken. Twisted can be faster than the runics and certainly a lot more vicious. But their armor doesn’t have the layered RESISTs reinforcing it that the Hod runics do, which means Star’s blows are far more effective. I watch with satisfaction as he dances down the Twisted’s other side, removing its limbs as he goes. A bit more of that and it’ll be slowed enough that he can get up close with Bug Zapper, and that’ll be the end of it—

Star stumbles, his legs locking up. The Twisted whips around and one scythe arm swings down to land a heavy blow. Star spins across the grass; he seems to come back to himself in midair, legs digging in and bringing him to a halt in a spray of dirt. The Twisted comes on, and he jumps away with his normal agility.

Are you okay? What was that?

[Confusion: I do not know. I lost a moment. There is something—]

He freezes again, missing the landing and tumbling end-over-end. The Twisted is on him at once, pinning him down with its bulk while its scythes descend to pry him open.

Star, REPEL, now!

He slams the shield in the monster’s face and I trigger the EXPLODE. The energy pulse flings the Twisted away to crash against the barrier field, which sparks wildly as the thing writhes. Star struggles back to his feet, but he’s wobbling like a drunk, as though his limbs won’t bear his weight.

What’s happening?

[—nfusion: feel strange. Hear it. Won’t. Stop.]

Star!

Alzimyth is smiling.

[—alysis. Nalysis. Analysis.]

The Twisted stalks back across the arena, slower now, as though sensing its prey is weakening.

Star’s mental voice slurs. [It is… talking to me…]

FORTY-THREE

Talking?

Twisted don’t talk. They don’t think, not even at the level of a pig or a dog; they just react to stimuli. I’ve killed dozens of the things and never once have they given a hint of intelligence, or even much instinct for self-preservation.

[Yessssh…] Star wobbles on his bladed feet. And suddenly I hear something, too, coming down the mental link between us, a tide of vicious static that spikes and shrieks like something broken and in agony.

Shut it out! The Twisted is bearing down on him.

[C-c-can’t], Star slurs. [Don’t know. How.]

Fuck. The static is growing louder, a throbbing pain in my head that makes me want to vomit. The spiky warbles almost do sound like words, but I can’t make them out under the chattering atonal wash.