Snippet #2559417

Guy stepped out of the cab, a slight breeze rustling through his short hair. It was a long day, even longer and less exciting than most. About once a month his employers would receive a call requesting him personally to assist with systems maintenance at the nearest Air Purifying Center, so he would be rushed out to the site at some ungodly hour to fix anything from the PET converters to the microwave in the staff room. Once he arrived, however, it was always the same excuse: "Oh, hey Guy! We hit the fridge with a wrench and it started working again. However, while you're here..." He would then spend the next 12 hours strapped into some type of contraption that siphoned his shield energy to clean some of the pollutants left over from when people still burned coal or petroleum to do anything. To them it was free labor; to Guy, it was 12 hours at the usual rate to do nothing. But it did tire him out, and for some reason he always needed to unwind after one of the sessions.

The cab pulled away as soon as he was out. Since Guy was a regular the driver had his account info on file, so paying the fare would be performed automatically later that night. He looked up at the sign above his usual stomping grounds, a small bar called "The Silver Stallion." The building had an Old Western theme, down to the two-way swinging doors and weathered signs advertising whiskey and sarsaparilla. He'd arrived just in time for Silver Rush Hour, where drinks were half off and some type of aspiring musician would be playing whatever the kids called "music" nowadays. He was only here for one of those things, but sometimes he was pleasantly surprised by the entertainment.

With a flourish Guy flicked a cigarette into his mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply. It was time to unwind.

Before he could take a step toward the door the first gunshot went off. It wasn't unusual for a mugger to actually kill someone around these parts, however Guy automatically threw on his protective armor. From any onlooker they could only see a slight shimmer, like he was surrounded by a fine silvery mesh. The armor also protected his hair from the wind, so he supposed someone perceptive enough might be able to notice that too. Still, once he was in the bar he wouldn't have to worry about muggers, so he continued on without much thought. By his third step everything was chaos.

Gunmen were pouring out of buildings, filling the already crowded street with magnetically accelerated death. People were running for cover, diving to get out of the way. They often never made it. Cars erupted into deadly fireballs, killing those who cowered behind them. For a few seconds, Guy was thrown off balance, just staring at everything unfolding around him. Then an internal alarm went off as he felt a tingling sensation in the shield on his left forearm. He instinctively poured his shield's strength over the area, but maybe not fast enough.

The stray bullet that hit his left forearm had left the "pointy end" of a railgun. Railguns converted a ton of PET energy into an instantaneous current at an order he could barely comprehend for one sole purpose: to kill someone as quickly as humanly possible. Which is why he was not surprised to find himself thrown violently into the exterior of the bar. He slumped against the wall. Luckily his head was protected by his shield, so he did not fall unconscious, but the pain stabbed into his mind. He looked at his arm, expecting to see a ragged hole in his elbow painting the sidewalk crimson. He was shocked to see that his arm was not only intact, but his shirt sleeve was unbroken. He flexed the arm to find that, while it hurt, there did not seem to be any broken bones. Somehow he had managed to save himself from everything but some very serious bruises in the morning. He took a moment to wonder how that would've turned out if he'd had one of those PET-powered bubble shields too.

Guy took a swig of the liquid courage in his flask, stood up, and pulled out his heaviest wrench. He wasn't one for heroics, but tonight he'd make an exception. He dashed into the fray, hoping to save anyone who wasn't dead and to potentially repay the asshole who'd shot him in full.