Axle and Wheel

The perimeter alarms at the police station noticed the intruders as they approached, three marks, moving slowly and inexorably from the outer ring of sensors. Troopers rushed to their barracks and retrieved their suits of powered armor. Seventeen young men and women disappeared under shells of plastic and metal, pulled over-sized guns from gun racks, mustered into a four-by-four square as their commanding officer performed a last inspection before combat.

The three marks pulled closer.

Orest Kelrast, once a captain, sat sobbing in a folding chair, arms crossed on a cheap table, his head lying on his crossed forearms. He was too busy feeling sorry for himself to notice Demonslayer sit up in her bed and open her watery blue-grey eyes.

The monitor on the view-screen behind her was unchanged -- she was still asleep.

"Stop with the tears, it is unbecoming for thee." Demonslayer approached the table.

Orest looked up at her, his face stained with tears, his eyes filled with horror. "You're awake."

"No. Not really. There is a sense and logic to dreams. If you can dream awake, you learn when things need to happen."

Outside, five snipers took positions at the concrete wall surrounding the police station. They carried bazooka-sized long rifles, and covered the arc where the three were approaching.

Six troopers launched. Backpack thrusters activated -- the troopers flew in a ballistic arc towards the intruders.

Half-way to the targets, one of the trio -- Killotron -- raised his arms, as if to catch the inbound troopers. An improbable array of guns folded out from his robotic limbs, and began to fire, filling the sky with plasma blasts.

Two troopers were shredded instantly. Four landed, readied their over-sized guns.

Inside, Demonslayer sat at the table with Orest Kelrast, holding him transfixed in her watery yet firm gaze.

"As for you, Kelrast... you come from a military family, yes?"

"Yes. How did you--"

"Your name. Before the bombs burn the home-world, the knights of the dark wizards called themselves 'thralls' -- 'kel' in the old language -- of their dreadful masters. You, your father, your father's father -- you all have been sacrificing yourselves for evil men who would be gods."

Orest was silent. He straightened his back, tried to look Demonslayer in the eye. His face was stained with tears.

"They taught them honor, and pride, married them to the fairest women, sent them to die for their ambitions. They would die, alone and unmourned on the battlefield, once the people found the courage and wisdom to join together and take them down." Demonslayer continued.

"And now we come to you. You, sad little man, so unworthy of love. Nasty, needy little men like you don't deserve to be cared about. All you can do is make others suffer."

Kelrast sat, helpless. Demonslayer retrieved a vial from beneath the table.

"I kept this in case they sent me to one of the places they will be sending you. They will read your mind, discover you know nothing of value, and torture you until you think of a capital crime -- and then you will die, a traitor in disgrace. It is a poison. Embrace death that you may learn the value of life."

Orest Kelrast stared at the vial. His lower lip trembled.

Outside, the last of the troopers tried to bring his gun to bear as Bearcat leapt upon him. The monstrous atavism twisted the trooper's helmet back and forth until his gun arm went limp, wringing the trooper's neck beneath his articulated armor. Bearcat cast the trooper aside, turned to his comrades, and asked, "Gotta can openah?"

Inside, Orest Kelrast reached for the vial. His face had tightened, and he looked at Demonslayer intently.

Outside, the snipers fired. Flechette shells sped towards the trio of attackers, burst in mid-air, began to spread out into a deadly wall of needles -- then fell to the ground as Red Menace's eyes flashed a brilliant green.

The snipers chambered their second rounds.

Inside, Orest raised the vial to his lips, hesitated for a moment, and sent the contents flying into Demonslayer's face with a flick of his wrist. Demonslayer kicked the table, lifting it into the path of the liquid.

Outside, a rack of rockets extended from Killotron's back. "The virtue of a sniper is his aim / That every shot will fall the same / But in virtue's arms does vice lay / He doesn't think to move away!" Five guided missiles launched from the robot's back, twisting in the air, homing into the hardpoints on the final concrete wall. Five warheads detonated. Fortifications and snipers disappeared in a cloud of shrapnel.

"Yer poo-tree suckth," quipped Bearcat.

Inside, Orest Kelrast's death rattle echoed in the grim concrete room. Demonslayer stood, whispering killing words under her breath. On the far wall, her vital signs registered deep, relaxed sleep.

She gestured, and a large metal case appeared in the room in a cloud of mist. She opened it, and retrieved her weapons.

Outside, the trio approached the wall. Red Menace rose into the air, and, in her loudest voice and best Corporate, cried --

"CAN HAS DEMONSLAYER NOW!?"