...Best served Cold. (origific)

[Crazedwraith]

A kill bill-ish short in my original (or so it claims) universe.

***

...Best served Cold

OR

Revenge is a Dish Best served DEAD! as Shroom_Man777 suggested.

Earth. 2487. Industrial Park of the United Protectorate of Sol. Shit hole. Once a vibrant living blue and green world, industrialisation has turned into a grey automaton. The average life–span the majority of humans living on Luna, Mars and a variety of alien worlds and colonies: 81 years. The average for a human living on Earth: 53 years.

The reason: the thick layer of ozone, Sulphides and carbon dioxide smothering the Earth.

Robert Sumner knew all this. Robert Sumner didn’t care. He was out for vengeance. Vengeance against a group of thugs, lowlifes and gamblers, who’d spat him out and left him for dead.

In short Sumner was not a happy man. He was walking purposefully through the lower reaches of the New York district of Fenris Military Suppliers LTD. Striding from shadow to shadow, in nondescript clothes, towards destiny.

***

The Halo club. It wasn’t so much as a club as a drive and not so much a drive as hole. And when we say hole it should be understood that we mean a smoke filled, blood stained hive of scum and villainy. Reeking of blood, sweets and innumerable types of narcotics. There were many such ‘clubs’ based in the lower reaches of Earth, mainly centres in the shattered skyscrapers of ancient cities reduced to ruins in the last wars centred on the globe. This particular ‘club’ was home to a particularly nasty and therefore successful cult of neo–samuri criminals. That practised a sort of Honour among thieves, members of this cult did not go around assassinating each other, but slicing and dicing each other in ‘fair’ duels. Thus swords were as common in the Halo as guns and the ringleader, Rico En Sabbath could relax in peace and quiet. Until that is the Halo’s bouncer was thrown threw the door in a shower of splinters, skewered with a neo–steel katana.

Silence descended over the club like a pillow smothering a small child, it was broken only by one sound. The sound of Robert Sumner pulling the slide of his pistol.

At that point every one in the club knew they were dead men, still breathing but not for much longer.
***

Most men found guns were most intimidating when being fired full auto. This was not so, for Sumner. For him, the only way to strike far into hearts with a gun was with unerring precision.

Two dozen, thugs and lowlifes all dived for their weapons. Most of them came up with swords. A couple of the ones who had the capacity to rub a couple of brain cells together pointed guns.

Sumner’s armed dropped in a blur. A bang, a slight shift and another bang later, two thugs dropped to the deck. The neo–steel slug had passed through one thug’s left ventricle the other got a large eccentric tunnel blasted through his skull pan.

The rest of the thugs charged Sumner. Repeated fire blasted the first dozen thugs. Each shot beautifully placed through heart or head or throat.

The first man to reach Sumner brought his blade up to cleave Rob in half and caught a fist in the solar plexus for his trouble. Wheezing the man brought his sword down in a deadly arc. Or at least tried to. Rob’s arm got in the way of his. The other arm snaked out grabbed his wrist and pulled down. The effect was the thug’s grasp and arm were broken and he ended up on his ass. Rob caught the sword in mid air and slashed it across the man’s throat.

En Sabbath ran for the exit.

Rob was ringed in steel. There were seven remaining thugs. Carrying a variety of swords and short blades. Well no time to wait around. Rob lunged towards to closed one going of the throat. The man contemptuously swept aside the lunge. Only to dropped to the floor screaming when Sumner’s heel smashed through his knee. He only languished in that pathetic state for a few more seconds. The next sweep of Sumner’s blade took his head clean off. Rob continued the swing full circle and gutted the next fool. Appropriating the man’s knife in the process and with a flick of the wrist buried it the throat of a man trying to flank him.

Rob’s Katana locked with the next man and the exchange a series of rapid–fire thrusts and slashes. Until one of Sumner’s parries came a hair of a fraction of a second to late and a sword dug into his shoulder, snarling Rob’s blade flashed up, the riposte took the offender’s wrists off as he tried to free his sword. A metallic clatter followed two meat thumps.

The remaining three lowlifes swarmed him. Rob danced aside slashing under the first man’s ribs. Deftly he reversed his grip on his blade and his free palm into the second’s face pushing his nose through his brain, finishing his spin he stabbed his sword through the final thug’s heart.

Rob pulled out the blade and wiped it on the dead man’s shirt. The he headed for the door En Sabbath took.

It led to a small cull–de–sac. An old cull–de sac blocked off by more modern building. Device plant a dozen meters up controlled the airflow and filtered out the smog.

En Sabbath sat calmly, his dead grey eyes gazing calmly at Rob, as thought the man had not just come back from the dead and carved a bloody red swath through his best Hit men.

“I put a bullet through your heart. Why aren’t you dead.”

Rob did nothing, didn’t even blink.

“I supposed it doesn’t matter. I expect you’re a bit annoyed with me.”

This time the silence took on an incredulous air.

“I really don’t understand, why you’re so peeved. A job is a job and you screwed up. It’s not my fault you made yourself more useful dead than alive.”

Rob took a step forward raising his blade.

“ Stop! Stop right just there, I have something to show you.”

Rico hefted a scabbard and with an arrogant smirk. He pulled the just few centimetres of the blade out. An unearthly blue glow issued from the top. The blade itself was barely visible. There was only a slight glint of metal and the eerie blue glow of an energy field. It was a 2D Sword, as it was dubbed in street parlance; a truly monomolecular blade held together by a forcefield.

Rico withdrew this priceless blade from its scabbard and lunged, slashing for Rob’s chest.

Acting on instinct Rob stepped back bringing his katana round in a parry. The 2D blade sheared straight through it.
The next slash was at eye level Rob ducked and lashed out and buried his fist and the shattered remnants of his sword hilt into Rico’s stomach. Rico responded with a face gouge. Rob fell back against the wall and then threw himself away just as the sword drew a long deep cut through the wall.

Rob lay on his back panting, winded by his fall. Rico turned, took the 2D sword in a two handed reverse grip and raised it ready to plunge it down through Rob’s heart. He grinned:

“You should not have come back, you poor fool.”

And then Rob’s foot smashed into his groin. Rob rolled kicking Rico’s legs out from under him and regained his feet. His boot then lashed out and caught Rico’s wrist sending the nigh–priceless 2D sword spinning off and then kicked Rico again for good measure. With deliberate slowness he pulled out his gun. Slapped a second magazine into it and put the pathetically mewling crime boss out of his misery with two slugs to the heart and head.

Rob spat, looked about and retreived the monomolecular sword. Swinging it, back in its scabbard, over his shoulder he walked off. Vengeance had been sated. The smog swallowed him before he’d walked twenty meters.

[Shroom Man 777]

Wow. Pretty cool, pretty very frickin' cool. Though why didn't he just shoot the guy instead of dueling AND THEN shooting him? Heck, he could've grabbed a sword, pretended like he was going to have a duel, the bad dude grabs his 2D sword, then BAM! Bullet to the brain!

But whatever. It's good, it's very good.

Just a few typos here and there, just re-read the thing and you'll see what I mean. Why did En Sabbath's name change into Rico?

[Crazedwraith]

Rico is his First name.

And yes the gun thing is a plot hole. I was going to say he didn't have time. but he could have reloaded after dealing with the lackies. Let's say he was in a hurry. He didn't know it was a dead end out that door, thus he charged straight out to stop Rico escaping.

[Shroom Man 777]

*shrugs* Ooookay. But he could've just pulled it out when Rico pulled out his own sword.

Rico: "Two Dee sword, whatcha think?"

Rob: "Cool." *pulls out pistol*

Rico: "Aw shi-"

*BLAM!*