Ian propped himself up on his arms and took stock of his situation. Jagged scraps of metal were peeking out from a pile of detritus, like a shark's ravenous maw. He’d landed with only a few inches between himself and the rust monster. He backed away and scrambled to his feet, coughing and waving a hand to clear away the choking cloud of dust.

As the air cleared, Ian could see nothing more than a shadowy silhouette looming over the ruins of the office. It couldn’t possibly be as massive as it looked, Ian was sure that the low light was playing tricks on his eyes. His first instinct was to call out to his partner, but he had to be cautious for both their sakes.

A faint whistle was Ian’s only warning as a thick piece of rebar came spinning through the air. He whipped his head around, following its course as it spun off into the darkness. Ducking low, he looked for cover while another wildly flying projectile whizzed past. Then another, and another. Until the air was almost humming with concrete blocks and metal shards, all aimed in his general direction.

A sunbeam shone down through a skylight on a grimy old forklift, putting the machine into a halo of light. He thanked whatever god was helping and dove behind it. He took a breath trying to slow the chaos of his mind, hoping that Anders had found a similar refuge. As he leaned against the cab he called out to his partner.

“Anders!” His voice came out strained and hoarse.

He trembled as he struggled to grip his gun properly and steady his cumbersome form. He wanted to make himself as small a target as possible. Hearing no response from Anders, he risked a quick glance around the side of his cover. He was barely beyond the reach of the dust cloud. The sunlight struggled against the impenetrable miasma, preventing Ian from seeing his adversary. Indistinct shapes formed and faded as Ian watched heavy sections of wall come flying out from the roiling cloud, leaving wispy dust trails in their wake.

Ian heard a faint groan that was unmistakably Anders. He did not think, he simply reacted with the urgency demanded by the sound and scrabbled around the side of the cab. As the pained groan faded away, he was left only with the sense of rising panic. His advance was repelled by another round of projectiles. The roof of the cab caved in as a mammoth chunk of wall collided with Ian’s meager cover. Glass rained down around him and forced him to retreat behind the ruined lift once more.

Don’t panic, Ian. Just focus damn it! His mind screamed. It simply wasn’t possible. There was no way that a man could hurl such weight around, no matter what kind of drugs or rage trip he might be on. The chunk that had mangled the cab had to weigh at least a ton.

Ian bobbed his head around what remained of the vehicle’s frame to scan for new cover. Off to his right, he spotted a staircase leading up to the maze of catwalks. Reasoning that some high ground might give him a better chance at survival, and having no other brilliant ideas, he went for it.

“Hang on buddy, I know exactly what I’m doing,” Ian shouted over the crushed cab. With gritted teeth he dove for the stairs, dodging another salvo of rocks along the way. He was passively aware the stairs were squealing in protest under his weight. He craned his arm around and fired off a few pot-shots at his attacker, aiming high to avoid Anders. Ian hoped this would force whoever he was fighting to take cover.

Rock-Chucker McGee had apparently missed the memo on the dangers of bullets. Ian glanced back over his shoulder and saw another hunk of wall, bound for the space that he currently occupied. He ran as the staircase buckled and shook from the impact. He gripped the rail to avoid losing his balance and spilling back down the stairs. He pulled himself up the final step and gained the catwalk.

The catwalk swayed precariously as he walked down the slender path. The squealing metal told him that every step was a gift. He went as fast as he dared with one hand following the railing, if only for the illusion of safety. Below him, the dust had settled but Ian still couldn’t make out what it was that he was fighting, and losing, against. It was almost as if the light in the warehouse were shifting away from his opponent, keeping the figure occluded in darkness.

Ian managed to find a relatively sturdy section of grating with a lone piece of sheet metal welded to the right-hand side of the rails. It would provide a meager amount of cover. Cursing under his breath he banged the back of his head against the sheet metal. He couldn’t risk hitting his partner. His previous shots were fired in a panic and he knew that he couldn’t make that mistake again. Somehow, he had to get to Anders.

The sounds of a sharp cry of pain and a grinding, wet pop and jostled him out of his thoughts. Ian got to his feet and peered over his cover. Tumbling through the air directly at him was the larger portion of Anders. His left arm was missing. Ian stretched out over the railing, trying to catch his partner as his body collided with the sheet metal.

For what seemed an eternity, but was only the whisper of a moment, he managed to hold fast to a bit of Anders’ jacket, pausing his descent. Ian felt a rush of triumph, then the fabric tore and Anders fell. His body hurtled toward the floor with a delirious groan and landed with a sickening crunch.

Ian let out an anguished sound as he watched his partner crumple on the floor, unconscious, or dead. Anders’ blood began pooling on the floor below, and rage tore through Ian’s chest that exploded in a bellowing challenge, “YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

He raised his gun and fired, his shots pinging and sparking as they ricocheted around the warehouse.

The monster returned fire in kind. Ian felt a splash of warmth across his face and the odd sensation pulled him from his reckless outburst. He turned to the source; bile rose in his throat as he saw Anders’ detached arm slap up against the railing. It spun around the rail once before falling to the floor next to his partner’s broken body. Ian was not afforded any time to process this carnage as more projectiles flew towards him. The catwalk shook hard enough to send Ian sprawling along the rusty metal. The cinder blocks and concrete hunks struck the grating and some of the aging cables snapped.

Those incessant shots punched additional holes into the walls and ceiling allowing more sunlight to break through. The shadows and dust were at last beaten back allowing Ian to see his assailant clearly.

A ten-foot-tall dust-covered metal colossus stood below him. In each four-fingered fist was a cinder block, poised above its head and ready to be thrown. Its bulky frame was dark-gray and shaped somewhat like a man, though with incongruous proportions. Each joint was a complex weave of intricate machinery composed of whirring gears and gyros.

Strange runic etchings revealed themselves as blue-white light extended down its heavy arms and across its barrel chest, like electricity flowing through a circuit board. At its waist was a basketball-sized gyro that spun faster and faster as the light grew more intense. While the whirring sound of all the internal mechanical parts crescendoed, the body itself remained frozen in place. Broad elephantine feet lit up next, uncovering more etched runes as the lines of light flowed up short stubby legs to converge with the upper lights at its core.

When it had nowhere else to spread, the veins of light shot up into its rounded dome of a head, which sat directly atop shoulders rather than a neck. For all the detailing on the creature’s body, this face looked more like an afterthought, being only a blank surface with two holes for eyes. Ian’s thoughts were suddenly arrested when he gazed into the blue glowing embers burning within the eye holes. Its eyes narrowed in anger, causing the panic that Ian had been fighting to penetrate his very being. Finally breaking its statuesque abeyance, the beast straightened its arms and began spinning them. They became a blur like the rotor blades on a helicopter, leaving behind trails of light. It was hypnotic to watch.

Without warning its right arm came to a halt and released a cinder block missile. It smashed through the sheet metal forcing Ian to hastily roll to the side to avoid obliteration. He then abandoned the idea of any further attack on the creature. He pulled himself to his feet and made a sprint back towards the stairs. Another cinder block came hurtling through the air as he retreated. A squeal worse than any nail on a chalkboard rent the air as the walkway twisted and writhed beneath his feet. His free hand gripped the railing as he shot a glance at the cables holding him aloft, knowing they couldn’t take this kind of stress.

“Fu-!”

Cables snapped, metal groaned, and the world came crashing down around him. With a bone-jarring quake, the catwalk gave way. His grip on the railing loosened and he went tumbling forward.

This is how I die. He knew that as well as he knew that the Earth was round.

But as he fell towards the ground it seemed that Lady Luck wasn’t quite ready for him to give up the ghost. No, she had decided that he would live to fight another day. A loose bundle of electrical wiring came whipping down, no doubt ripped from its mooring by the collapsing walkway. It coiled around the railing like a whip and brought the falling metal to a halt. Ian had a brief reprieve and prepared to breathe a sigh of relief… until gravity kicked in.

Lady Luck left him, and physics took over. The jolt had shaken his hand free of the rail as the catwalk tilted sideways. Ian tumbled in a mad free fall, striking his legs, chest, and arms along the way to the floor. His left arm shot out on reflex to shield himself. A loud snap echoed in his ears as his forearm gave. He landed in a heap on the ground and his gun went spinning out across the floor.

The walking mountain of metal was slow to react. It too had expected Ian to expire, and it was as if its programming shorted out when it saw that the target was still moving. Turning towards Ian in a tauntingly slow manner it reached for another slab of concrete.

Ian scrambled to his feet, letting out another scream of pain as he mistakenly pushed himself up with his broken arm. Through clenched teeth, he rose while scanning the floor. He spotted his gun lying in the dust and ran for it, ducking low as another lump came tearing through the air. His right hand snatched up the pistol, but his long legs tangled and caused him to trip. He kept a firm grip on his gun as he fell, ignoring the pain he rolled through the fall and onto his back. He raised his gun and took aim. There would be no second shot.

He fired.

The bullet spiraled through the air towards the only vulnerable part that Ian could see - the eyes. He knew it was a one in a million shot, but with Anders’ life on the line, there was nothing to do but try. Everything slowed down as the bullet flew through the air. Ian would have sworn that he saw the spiraling trail left behind by the bullet as he waited for it to reach the target. Those few grams of lead would determine whether he lived or died in this moment.

The monster cocked its arm, preparing to throw the block that would end Ian. Ian’s head fell back against the hard floor, expecting a crushing weight to hit his body. Instead, the room fell silent for a scarce few seconds after the bullet slid through the right eye socket and pierced the fiery ember.

The sound of air rushing into a vacuum convinced Ian to lift his head and look. The lights on the golem’s body were now pulsing. Dust swirled and rushed towards the golem as its arm fell, dropping the last piece of ammunition. As the wind increased in intensity the flashing hastened. Ian struggled to find a grip to stop his procession into the newly formed vortex.

The lights continued to brighten and pulse as the sound became unbearable. It was as though a train whistle were going off right inside Ian’s skull. The lights grew so bright that it was akin to staring at the sun, and he had to close his eyes. Blindly grasping and flailing with his good arm he found no purchase to stop his slide towards the monster. There was an intense pressure in his ears followed by a whump deep in his chest.

Everything went black and still.