“Tell us how y’all got that shiner, Cap?” Private Cordone’s voice crackled over the comms. I couldn’t remember his full name, Something Something Cordone IV.
I shook my head and closed my thermos, suppressing a sigh. Ever since I’d reported for duty with a black eye, the squad hadn’t been able to
To: georgethegremlinhaha@crashandburn.com
From: sirfrederickgrim@upgradeorbust.org
Subject: Re: Hello…
Dear Cousin George,
It’s good to finally hear from you! Are you still living in that cheap hunk of metal you call a computer? The one you’re always complaining about at gremlin get-togethers?
It had been three months since someone last licked me.
That was a weird experience.
The offending party apologized profusely and dropped me like I was a talking cupcake. Which, at the time, I was. Couldn’t really blame them for running away screaming.
Now, trying not to be nervous, I locked up my realtor’s
“Dude, I am beginning to rethink this idea.” Tyrone shifted uneasily from one foot to the other as he stared at the fence towering above them. “These signs look serious.” He pointed his flashlight to a neon orange “Keep Out” sign that was practically screaming at them.
“Now you notice?” Grant rolled hi
The clock ticked as Doctor K made a few perfunctory marks on her clipboard, then studied the hollow-eyed patient. “The man in the purple waistcoat… have you seen him again since the accident?”
The patient’s face spasmed at the mention. He shook his head with the short, sharp ferocity of a dog shaking
Flying through midair, I brought my megabot’s blade down hard on the neck of the tentacled beastie. Inky-blue blood splattered across the rough, uneven surface of the Antarctic ice.
A direct hit! I yelled in exultation as my megabot landed on one leg, slid in the ice, and crashed onto its side.
The balmy April evening was fast becoming a frosty spring night. The full moon lay hidden behind a wintry haze. Amelia rubbed her arms vigorously as she hugged herself.
He strode through the mist, with a tip of his hat and gleaming cobalt eyes. The gentleman cut a dashing figure in his classic blue-grey
I arch my back and gasp awake.
I lie in a circle of grass. Blades flutter in a gentle breeze. Despite the wasteland of ice and snow that swirls outside the circle, the wind reaches me as a warm summer breeze.
My ruined mech lays at my feet, inches past the green.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Willow grumbled, blowing a strand of brown hair out of her face. She trudged through the shallow, mucky water. Only Henry would think it was a good idea to spend their weekend stomping around a mosquito-infested swamp searching for something that didn’t exist.
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I settled into the cockpit, pulling my bomber jacket tighter. In spite of briskly efficient warming plates, the megabot’s interior always retained some of that perpetual Antarctic chill. The mech was 70 feet of gleaming steel, pure robotic poetry in motion. Sturdy legs held up a hefty, armored pod, and four arms boasted
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The carriage arrived late in the afternoon, but Sebastian didn’t get out right away. He peered through the frosted glass at the house, its cobblestone siding glowing in the sunset. Candles flickered in the snow laden windows like watchful eyes.
Sebastian glanced at the paper on the bench beside him. The dreaded “yellow slip”
At forty feet tall, the Megabot was smaller than most, but I knew it could get the job done. I piloted my mech down through shadows deeper into the heart of the massive cavern. Even seconds after leaving the surface, I felt far removed from the bright yellow light of the sun.
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