“That thing looks like the Mexican cartel’s grandmother tried to give them a weaponized washing-machine for Christmas.”

[…]

System ‘heads-up’:

Automaton Isthatit has entered detection range

Distance: 300 meters

[…]

Damon could see the options playing out before him. The village was far, but Idina was not. If he ran up to her, he was going to catch up to her before the robot reached either of them. The immediate thought would have been the prospect of using her as a hostage, to get the drone to back down. That idea made him flinch. He’d joined the army, not the mafia. But what did that leave him with? It flew faster than he ran, and his leg was currently painfully reminding him one of those disgusting rat-dog-things had nearly torn a strip out of him. Attempted escape would have him potentially learning what they’d armed the drone with. And he didn’t have any way to fight against the robot other than throwing stones.

Then again, he didn’t want to fight at all.

That decided things rather easily.

“My name is Damon and I don’t wish to fight!”

With a quick check that there were no monsters lurking nearby, he lowered himself to his knees and raised his arms. Praying inwardly to whatever God oversaw this alien planet. Damon kept himself still as he waited for the drone to get closer. The bargain-bin dooms-day cube rattled in its approach, panels opened on its sides and beneath, long robotic limbs sprang out and the fans holding it aloft stopped. For a fraction of a second, it looked like it would just stay there in the air. But gravity took hold, and it dropped, falling to the ground on top of its fourth thick robotic legs with a thud.

Sparks flew out of the front leg, but that only stopped the machine for a moment. It rushed towards him. Three robotic arms sprung from the panels at either side, each tipped with foot-long blades like some sort of nightmarish combination between a robot, a spider, an octopus chef, and a home appliance.

“That does not look friendly. I come in peace! I yield?”

The robot was getting closer, and Damon was reconsidering his life-choices.

“Take me to your leader? I surrender?”

When the knives took a red sizzling fiery glow, all thoughts of staying put were discarded.

“Fuck this.”

Damon did not waste another second, he scrambled to his feet and shot out at a dead sprint towards the trees as fast as he could go. His crappy improvised sandals were quick to get disposed of along the way. Only after a good thirty-seconds did he dare to look over his shoulder. The machine had not chased, apparently not confident it would catch up on foot. Instead, it was retracting limbs and returning to flying shuttle mode.

Running like a madman, the terrain was rough for Damon’s feet. He was sure the trees might provide some level of cover, but it wasn’t something he could count on against a flight-abled enemy. He’d joined the army, spent weeks in training, grueling every minute. And none of it prepared him for a Lovecraftian flying washing-machine chasing him through an alien forest.

“The drills did nothing!”

The drone didn’t take long to start catching up, the buzzing sound of its propeller becoming louder and louder. But alongside it there was a new vibration, a faint wheezing sucking noise. It was growing in strength, like someone trying to take in a lungful of air through a very tiny straw. With the increasing volume of this new sound, concern drew Damon to glance at the drone.

The machine was flying barely two meters over the ground, the unblinking robotic eye glowed ominously. The thing was now a bit too close for comfort, and that was why he saw the speeding rust-bucket vibrate and rattle before letting out a singular solid thump that arrested a lot of its speed all at once, nearly stopping it midair.

Damon didn’t see whatever had happened that had slowed it down like that. There was no blur or flash of light. But he still got to feel it an instant afterward. A wall of air slammed against him with concussive force. He was smashed forward like someone had just given him a full body shove, courtesy of a whole football team worth of linebackers. It sent him careening into the dirt while dust exploded upward all around him.

“The fuck was that!?”

Immediately, it became clear he couldn’t hear that well. The attack had rung his head, and his ears were in the middle of enduring a weapon’s-grade tinnitus. One he really did not have the time to worry about. Especially not when he was able to faintly make out the wheezing that signaled round two was on its way.

Stumbling to his feet, he rolled out of the way as another thump blasted the spot he’d occupied a moment ago. Damon’s brain reeled and he began running again, instinct and self-preservation overcoming the ringing for long enough for the chase to renew. It was an obviously losing proposition, though. He couldn’t reliably get himself away from the machine when said thing flew faster than him. How many more of those air-cannon attacks was he able to take before he wouldn’t be capable of standing back up and it could just switch back to stab-mode and end him?

The third thump missed him by a hair. The pressure washed over his arm right as he’d ducked out of the way. It was a physical force that rattled the air, but by whatever fortune smiled down on him, it didn’t seem to carry enough power that a glance-shot would actually injure him. It only knocked him slightly off balance.

He could only think of one way out of this mess. He didn’t like it.

“This is going to get me killed.”

Damon grit his teeth, clenching the fang tightly. He immediately turned around to face the incoming drone and used every bit of strength he could muster to leap at it before it had the time to react.

He betted his jump height would be higher than back on Earth, and he’d been right.

Wielding a fang in each hand, his body stuck to the robot’s body, his hands flung and struck at the cube’s circular flat turbine like a man possessed. Rather than seek to sink his blade into the spinning fans for support, he attacked the hydraulics that connected the disk to the cube with everything he had. The added impact of his weight knocked the drone into a wild spin. He did not lose the opportunity to strike at the joint as hard as he could repeatedly, going at it hard until he and the machine struck the ground and became a car-crash accident equivalent. There was a rain of sparks and red-hot agony, followed by screeching metal against metal. Damon was slammed against a tree, the drone crashed right after not too far off.

Damon was the first to his feet, feeling like he’d just bruised and scraped and maybe partially electrocuted everything above his waistline. The pain made it hard to tell if he’d broken anything or was just generally injured in very painful ways, but his focus was on the robot.

Maybe it would not get back up.

Reality wasn’t giving any freebies though. The robot had landed upside down, and the panels were opening to let its limbs out, they flung about madly. Only three of the four legs worked, the fourth raining sparks before becoming completely still. The knives were coming out too, and at that point, Damon didn’t care enough to stick around and find out how quickly it would take the thing to turn him into sushi.

Though he started off with a limp, he worked up a bit of speed as the full-body rattle he’d received started to wear off. Each step was slightly more stable than the last. The pain from the fall was going to kick him something fierce once the adrenaline ran out. But that was a concern for future Damon, and if he didn’t move, there would be no future Damon at all.

The sound of screeching metal drew his attention back to the robot. The metal rust-box had toppled on its three functioning crab-legs under it and was currently starting its pursuit at a pace Damon would consider closer to a slow jog. That was good, he could escape and get away. Maybe he’d even have time to rest up and take a break from this crazy third-rate terminator. He’d just need to put enough distance to lose it first.

It was the home stretch.

[…]

System ‘heads up’:

User Sybil has entered detection range.

Distance: 180 meters

User Handrondi has entered detection range.

Distance: 190 meters

[…]

Damon held back from speaking, as if every curse word on his vocabulary was trying to be used at the same time and he’d been frozen with indecision over which would be more appropriate. So he did his best not to insult the program at the very least, speaking through gritted teeth. “Dismiss notification. Display all contacts on the map.”

The mini-map popped up, showing his own green dot drifting away from one gray dot, tagged as the droid. Another dot, also gray, marked as Idina was moving away from him. And there were two red dots that had clearly come from the village. They were moving to intercept him.

“Fuck.”

With a sharp turn to the right, he headed up the hill. His legs were burning, and the day’s fatigue was already weighing him down plenty. Lower gravity or not, higher oxygen or not, Damon felt like he was right back to the death-march. He thanked his stars he wasn’t carrying the whole gear and was just naked with a mutant-wolf skin he wore for clothes. With a glance at the map, it was clear the two dots were slowing down but still gaining on him. One of them, Sybil, was shortening the distance faster than the other. The little dot moved in tiny bursts of speed as it kept encroaching.

He glanced over his shoulder, not spotting anyone or anything. And changed direction again, a slight right, almost a ‘U’ turn from the angle he’d been running from the robot. It was a gamble. If they were tracking him, it would mean they’d catch him sooner, but if they weren’t…

The three dots kept moving uphill, and Damon had just the barest edge of joy as he regained some of that distance he’d gambled with. Space he used to slow down and recover his breath. He paced himself to a comfortable light jog, keeping one eye on the mini-map, the other on the surrounding forest. He’d stumbled onto the rat-things once and, considering his luck, he was half expecting to run into another pack the moment he let out a sigh of relief.

It didn’t take long before the three enemies were changing course in his general direction, and they’d done so at the same time. Damon figured they had some way to communicate with each other. Fortunately, the droid was being left behind, and Sybil’s lead on their companion had increased.

But, overall, they were slowing down. Still faster than him, though.

He spotted movement in the trees, and a voice calling out in shouts. Were they confirming his location?

[…]

No Match Found

Auto-Translation (Halter) insufficient

Engaging Learning Mode

[…]

He couldn’t surrender, he couldn’t escape, and his body was running on fumes.

But he couldn’t stop either, or he’d be outnumbered and things would go from bad to worse.

Another glance over his shoulder. He got a better view of his pursuer. Sybil advanced in long leaps, running for a handful of seconds before jumping an impressive five meters or so, and sprinting some more. The figure was heavily hooded, making it hard to guess at what kind of threat they presented aside from what clearly would be a mean kicker.

Something glimmered as the hooded figure’s hands moved under the cloak. A moment later, Damon felt a sharp pain on his left thigh where the monster had bitten him. He held back the scream, but his leg gave out all the same. There was enough inertia to roll his way to a stop, and by then, the hooded figure had reached him. They wielded a short-sword, and they’d lunged at him for a stab.

Damon scrambled, rolled, and leapt back to his feet. His left leg felt like it was on fire, but he pushed it all the same. Sybil’s sword swung upwards in a cut that would have sliced into his shoulder if he hadn’t moved out of the way. From under the hood, hazel eyes widened in surprise, the figure’s face otherwise entirely covered.

“The fuck do you want!?” Damon said.

The only response was a load of gibberish.

[…]

Learning Mode is Engaged

More data is needed

[…]

“Dismiss! Dismiss!”

Damon barely had time to twist his body out of the way of the next attack. The sword tried to reach him and he very enthusiastically jumped out of its range. Sybil’s left hand reached for something on their belt and another glimmer of metal. Damon moved back rather than wait, but it still hit him squarely in his injured thigh. An intense jolt of pain followed. With a grunt, he looked down, a metal dart had embedded itself into his skin.

“First monsters, then robots, and now a ninja?”

He didn’t have the time to tear it out. The blade came back, and his only option was to move away. If he got close, he’d get turned into kebab. With a half-hearted attempt to run before the others got there, the hooded figure sprung forward like some oversized shuttlecock to swing the sword at him and block his escape.

Retreat wasn’t working, he heard shouts, the other one was coming. The robot wouldn’t be too far behind.

Hands reaching at his throat, he undid the knot on the fur cape. Damon glanced around and leapt back, employing a tree for partial cover to avoid giving his attacker room to swing too wildly at him without smacking the tree along the way. The blade would come from the left. He moved right and allowed the timber to do the rest of the work while his fingers fumbled at the large piece of fur.

It was impossible to recognize the words spoken, but the tone made it clear Sybil was cursing up a storm at him. They were trying to get around the tree, but Damon hurriedly moved to circle in a deadly game of ring around the rosie to ensure the tree remained a very annoying obstruction. And because he was staying close to the tree itself, the ninja couldn’t use its super jump either.

“Serves you right.”

The moment the fur had loosened, he turned to run away from the tree. Sybil took the chance and leapt to intercept him.

Damon swung the large fur over his shoulder in a downwards arch. It smacked the ninja squarely out of the air and into the dirt. He didn’t lose a second to drop the fur on Sybil. They reacted quickly too, their blade pierced through the thing, but not before Damon got a good kick in that sent Sybil rolling a whole two meters and against a tree. The sword fell from their grasp, laying on the ground while the arm that had been holding it had gone limp.

Sybil groaned weakly from under the fur. Meanwhile, Damon picked up the sword. He might be naked now, but now he had the short-sword. Finally, he took a deep breath to recover some strength, aware the companion wouldn’t be too far off. So long as Sybil was sufficiently out of commission, he’d be able to more comfortably put some distance behind him. Hopefully the Handrondi fellow wouldn’t catch up at all and-.

[…]

System ‘heads-up’:

Installing new Language Package

[…]

“Oh fuck, n-!”

His brain exploded in heat and agony. Damon dropped the sword, screaming. The pain shot directly from his forehead to the back of his skull. His legs gave out as his vision became hazy. The fur skin he’d used to constrain Sybil was tossed aside, and Damon tried to reach for the sword. The hooded figure jumped at him, knocking him on his back. A dagger pressed against his throat.

Piercing honey-colored eyes stared at him from the darkness under the hood.

Damon dimly heard heavy footsteps not too far off.

“RED BLOOD!” an unfamiliar voice shouted.

And everything came to a halt.