Contest entry: What were you doing when … Giant Metal Robot

Over the next few weeks, entries for the Fiction Contest: What were you doing when... will be featured in-game, in no order of merit, except for the top three winners, who will be revealed last.

Here is the entry by Highlander:

The word had gone out to the various leagues that there was a problem in Las Vegas. I was in Phoenix having visited one of the families I had befriended in the many years I spent on this world.

The man I was seeing was an attorney, and a descendant of a Scottish neighbor I had known some five to six hundred years in the past. If there was one thing I had learned, it was that I started way too late maintaining a journal of the years and the people I had known. Even though I remembered his ancestors well, the years tended to run together. I was fortunate that his family had passed down their history. Too few clans had done so. For that reason, I had lost track of my own descendants. I would often encounter someone of obvious middle eastern descent and would think to myself “Am I his great grandfather of hundreds of generations, or was he perhaps on of Seth’s line?” Perhaps he was from the family of one of my other brothers or sisters. Maybe his ancestor had been a sibling I never knew.

But I digress. Fiona has frequently chided me that my tendency to wander off-topic was the result of having more memories than my mind could hold, and they would often come to me out of the blue when my thoughts were interrupted by a random occurrence or item that would trigger a long lost memory.

Damn. I’m doing it again. Random thoughts … triggering other random thoughts … igniting other memories.

Focus. You’re flying a Star Force craft Chained Angel had allowed you to use when you decided you needed to drop out of sight for the sake of Fiona’s safety.

I couldn’t bear the thought of her possibly becoming a target because of something I had done or said. I had taken a leave of absence from Star Force to arrange for her to stay with one of the families from my associations of the past. She’s a powerful psionic force, but she’s still working to master her powers. As such, she’s no match for the more powerful beings out there. Star Force HQ had been attacked for a second time during my tenure and my remarks concerning that had drawn the attention of BADGE’s Internal Affairs division.

For that reason … NO! FOCUS.

BADGE has dispatched me to Vegas to help deal with an imminent danger. That needs to be foremost in my mind.

The craft’s guidance system was taking me to the city, but as it turned out, it was unnecessary. The mayhem being perpetrated by the subject of the assignment rendered the need for directions a moot point. I was a hundred or so miles from my destination when I could see the action in the distance.

“Oh, boy. Looks like we got our work cut out for us.”

I questioned the onboard computer and the BADGE database brought me up to speed. Apparently, the shell of the target was built to resist morphonic powers.

Advantage: me. My powers aren’t morphonic in nature.

Dubbed “Osteen’s Monstrosity," the thing was big. And – unable to fly – I could only attack from the ground. Since Chained Angel had given me an old flyer, I had only minimal projectile weapons, which would be little use against a war machine. I set the flyer down – hopefully out of harm’s way – and determined to mount a physical assault using the only weapon at my disposal - me. A ground attack it would be. The thing’s foot was nearly as high as I was tall. Perhaps I could cripple or immobilize the object; I had little other choice.

I charged at the nearest foot – the left – and delivered a hammer-like blow as high as I could reach. The armor had proven to be highly resistant to most of the attacking heroes. Resistant, but not impervious. This would take time.

Several more blows created a crack and I used my hands to rend the metal and widen the crack enough to enter. As I began to enter the gateway I had created, I heard a scream – a young girl, apparently. I looked in the direction of the sound and saw a young teenager, paralyzed with fear at the sight of the danger.

I hesitated long enough to see league mate Lykos swoop in and carry the lass up and away from danger.

“Times that I wish I could fly,” I mused. “But it is what it is.”

I found my way inside the leg – an unsettling feeling - and stared upwards.

“Well, no flying up that way. Guess I’ll have to create my own ladder.”

I began to hammer handholds into the interior surface of the leg and work my way upwards. The machine moved, shaking me loose and dropping me to the bottom.

“Great. This may take a while.”