HIT! 7% DAMAGE

Mai snarled in frustration as the curved point of her cutter struck the powerful musculature of the mastiff before glancing up and off the creature’s armour. Still, the health bar filled with a section of black. And that could only be a good thing.

Just as she had with the mogwai, she activated her STREET SMARTS skill. Now that she wasn’t fighting creatures from myth and urban legend, she felt a lot calmer entering this fight. This time she decided to try her STREET FIGHTING skill. She hadn’t thought it would apply against the monsters, but now she was up against what she thought of as ‘real’ opponents, she was confident it would work. Her confidence was rewarded with the appearance of target boxes.

Whilst the former didn’t appear to do anything, the latter immediately lit up a series of locations on the mastiff.

She was surrounded by people she got on with, possibly even liked, and they had the advantage in numbers if not weapons and technology.

Giving a mental shrug, she prayed that she wouldn’t have to resort to unarmed combat.

Whilst the target boxes listed the percentage of her being able to hit and cause damage, the best chance was listed as being the centre of the cyber-mastiff’s chest. The armour there was particularly worn, a piece hanging slightly lower than the rest. Even though the skill wasn’t being used as intended, and the CRITICAL HIT markers were meant for unarmed strikes, they still pointed out the weak points.

*Awhoooo* howled the mastiff, its artificially enhanced voice slamming into her. Ears ringing, heart pounding with fear, she barely had time to dive to the side as it charged.

STUNNED!

INTIMIDATED! -5% to hit

A claw clipped her shoulder, snagging the cloth of her suit as it sailed over her head. The blow wasn’t hard enough to actually harm her, but the momentum caused before her suit tore was just enough to send her sprawling into the soft filth.

SOAK! 1%

Squirming, she rolled over, the night soil slowing her down. The mastiff had hit the berg and was just regaining its feet, giving a couple of plaintive whimpers as it wiped at its nose with a paw.

Gunshots rang out, quickly followed by screams of pain, and cries of anger but Mai didn’t dare take her eyes off the now crouching mastiff.

It held itself low, gathering power into its already considerable muscles as it prepared to launch itself at her.

“Bring it,” Mai snarled as she rose to one knee and settled the fat cutter under her arm like a knight with a lance. Its blade low and covered in human waste, she kept it pointed at the target box.

HIT CHANCE – 25%

If anyone had offered her those odds on a bet she’d have told them where to go. But now she was betting her life, they looked decidedly better than any of the other targets. Most of which she couldn’t even hit from this angle.

*awhoo* Its voice battered her again and she felt the thin veneer of her calm start to break. The mastiff was a weapon of terror designed to break its opponent’s will and send them into a blind panic.

INTIMIDATED!

-5% CHANCE TO HIT

She cursed as the second INTIMIDATION notification popped up. She was now facing a ten per cent penalty to hit. Knowing what it was doing didn’t help and probably only served to increase its effects. Her mask was starting to mist up as her breathing sped up and came in gasps. Tunnel vision narrowed her focus down to solely that of the hound before her.

“Raaaaargh” she screamed back at the hound. “Come on then!”

It came on. One second it was crouched before her and the next it was flying through the air. It was as if she had blinked and missed the point in time it moved. The aiming point for the vital spot moved as it sailed towards her.

Desperately Mai tried to keep the point of her cutter centred directly on the middle of the target box.

Aim small, miss small, despite her desperate situation she smiled at the memory of her father. He’d been a low-ranking policeman and had taken her to the firing range on the odd occasion he had time, hoping she’d follow in his footsteps.

An image of him smiling, her mother stood next to him, arms wrapped around each other filled her mind and all of the fear left her at that moment.

HIT! 50% DAMAGE

BLEED @5% PER SECOND

POISONED @1% DAMAGE PER SECOND

A block of black appeared in its health bar, almost completely filling it now. The impact punched her backwards as the mastiff impaled itself on her blade. Tangs at the base of the cutter’s blade prevented it from charging down the shaft to get to her. Howling, it’s agony broadcast to everyone, the mastiff writhed on the end of her cutter. Frantic to get away from the pain of the blade, the mastiff only succeeded in widening the horrific gash in its chest.

Pulling itself free, Mai was finally able to see the blood drop and green skull and crossbones that had bloomed over its head. Blood and oil poured out of the hole, and electrical sparks flickered. She wasn’t sure why it was poisoned, but considering the environment, she wasn’t surprised.

It tried to attack her with another howl, but nothing more than a pained whimper came out. A clot of blood was hacked up with yet more whimpers.

Poor thing. It has as much control over its life as we do. Mai actually felt guilty at hurting the animal so badly. Until it tried to set itself for another attack that was.

“For Herne’s sake hound, just go away!” She jabbed her cutter at it, buying time so that she could get to her feet.

STREET FIGHTING went back to passive at that moment and she tried to fix in her mind where the other target boxes had been. It shocked her to know that over half a minute had passed since she activated it. Her STREET SMARTS had just less than thirty seconds before it too entered the cooldown period.

Damn it, she cursed. She couldn’t remember which offered the next best chance of a good hit. Might as well go for the same place.

The wound was massive, the flow of blood and oil increased with each second, the BLEED and POISONED status symbols pulsing faster and faster.

I need to finish this, now.

Screaming, she went on the attack. A massive overhead attack sent the mastiff hopping away. As soon as the cutter plunged into the goo she stamped forward and thrust upward.

Covered in dripping excrement, the tip of the spear was hidden from the mastiff. It erupted from the noxious liquid a mere finger’s length from the dog. Far too close for it to react.

Her attack struck true, the full eight inches of her cutter’s blade sinking deep into the mastiff’s body.

CRITICAL HIT! – INSTANT DEATH

The mastiff collapsed into the excrement without a sound, its health bar a solid black.

Now that it was dead her tunnel vision cleared, and she looked around to check on her colleagues.

Bodies lay all around. Some still moved weakly, but most were as still as only the dead could be. Two of the urbexers were down, including the mastiff’s owner.

Fat John was still alive, dodging here and there, jabbing one-handed with his cutter at the urbex leader. To her surprise, Fat John’s other hand had been changed into a nanite spear.

Both of the combatants had BLEED and POISON indicators above them, but Fat John was clearly losing.

Let’s see about evening the odds, Mai activated her LARCENY skill. Whilst it wasn’t designed for combat like this, it did allow her to move quieter than normal with a sub-skill of SNEAK.

She tightened her grip and angled her approach to attack the urbex leader from behind, going unnoticed from everyone in the fight.

Fat John had done considerable damage to the urbexer. His movements were slow, breathing clearly laboured even under the armour. All of his suit-mounted weapons were damaged.

He’s favouring his right leg. The urbexer could barely lift the limb, shuffling awkwardly every time Fat John attacked. His defensive work was impressive. Fat John’s dual wield attacks were blindingly fast. So fast that Mai wondered just how many mogwais her boss had killed. Or what he’d done before he’d been sent into the sewers.

Fat John caught her eye for a brief second. Moving to his right, he forced the leader to follow him and allowing Mai to close in.

Mai snarled as her STREET FIGHTING skill replenished. She activated it, focussing on the leader’s injured leg.

HIT CHANCE – 50%

CRITICAL HIT CHANCE +10%

BACKSTAB BONUS +10% HIT CHANCE, +5% CRITICAL HIT CHANCE

LARCENY BONUS +20% HIT CHANCE, +2% CRITICAL HIT CHANCE

She didn’t have time to work out all of the maths. All she knew was that if she got this attack right, she could end it with one good blow.

Flexing her fingers, she licked her lips nervously. Catching Fat John’s eye she jerked her head up. Without a second’s hesitation he attacked high, and to the right, forcing the urbexer to plant his weight on the injured leg.

Mai charged, ramming her cutter straight into the middle of the target box. There was a moment where she thought she’d missed, and then the already damaged armour gave way and her blade sank deep into the leg. Twisting the blade, she ripped it out horizontally, cutting towards the inside of the thigh.

CRITICAL HIT! 60% DAMAGE

BLEED @50% PER SECOND

Arterial blood jetted out of the urbexer’s thigh, before pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

“What? Damn that hurts,” the leader staggered around to face her. His helmet’s visor opened to reveal a face as dark as the night with blood-red eyes. “You sneaky little bit…”

Two blades punched their way through his chest armour. Mai blinked in shock as blood splattered onto her visor.

Coughing up blood, the leader stared back just as shocked as his hands lifted to touch the blades.

“Shit.” he managed to gasp.

Fat John pulled the blades out of the leader. As the corpse toppled into the muck, her boss flicked the blood off his weapons.

“Good job, Mai. Good job.”

KILL ASSIST

+2% TUNNEL FIGHTER

Turning, Mai readied herself to continue the fight. There was no fight. Less than half of her work party still stood. But none of the urbexers had survived.

Counting the bodies, she realised that the stealth-suited urbexer was nowhere to be seen.

Seriously hope he doesn’t come back for revenge. Pushing that worrying thought to the back of her mind, she set about helping the wounded.