Bring The Heat

14. VS Arms Race Pt 3

As a kid, Metal grew up with good parents. His mother was running a successful business, and he would always be waiting for her to come home, even when the moon hung at the highest point in the sky. In the meantime, he would be cooking with his father, who could easily have been an expert chef. But instead, he wanted to stay home and keep Metal company, and make sure he was never alone. Also, somewhat strangely, it seemed that Metal had some kind of kleptomaniac streak in him - metal objects went missing constantly around the house. Still, Metal could've lived a perfect life.

He could've...

One night, When he was 11 years old, it took especially long for Metal's mother to get home. He began to fall asleep on the stairs, until... a loud knock on the door! This was strange. Metal's mother would always just unlock the door and burst in. She was very direct. But Metal was too excited to question it! He was about to get up to open the door, but his father got there first. It almost seemed like he had become just as impatient as Metal was!

Metal's mother wasn't in the doorway.

Metal's father was thrown backwards as a shotgun shell slugged him in the stomach. He fell lifeless to the ground, and blood poured from his stomach and his mouth, as his head rolled emptily to look at Metal, and his jaw swung loosely. Metal watched the colour leave his father's eyes.

He did nothing. He just sat there, frozen. It wasn't just his body; his brain was refusing to process what he was seeing.

A tall man, his face obscured by a bandana and baseball cap, kicked the door open fully and stomped into the house. A group of 5 or so men followed.

"Shit! Do we kill him? He's only got one fucking arm..." one of the men asked.

The man in the bandanna looked down at Metal and observed him. His eyes were as lifeless as Metal's father's.

"Nah. I'm not gonna kill a kid."

He said it like it wasn't a moral consideration, or any kind of issue. Like it was just something he didn't feel like doing, like doing a chore ahead of time or eating the salad that comes with your food at a restaurant.

The group of men just took a look around, grabbed some things, and left. They just left.

They just. Left.

By the next morning, Metal was gone. He had left his old life behind, with no new one to go to. That was, until he saw a newspaper article about his mother's murder. He didn't even blink. Why would she be alive? The world that killed his father wouldn't have mercy.

'An eyewitness who wished to remain anonymous reported seeing a group of 5 men following a woman who fits the description of Lisa Martinez, one of the two recent victims alongside her husband, Alec Martinez, in a recent murder case. The witness said they saw the men begin to follow her from Jewel Street, at 1:14 AM, about 17 minutes before the first call to the emergency services was made, reporting gunshots. It is believed they followed her from there to her house, where she was brutally attacked and stabbed to death just outside, her body being dumped into a garbage bin out front, before the attackers then entered the house, shooting and killing Mr Martinez, and presumably kidnapping their child, Ben Martinez, whose body has still not been found.'

This was a lot. Well, it might've been. But the second that Metal had read the words 'Jewel Street' everything else seemed less important. Jewel Street. It was why he was never left alone at home...

Just about 10 minutes from the Martinez's house was Jewel Street, known for it's abnormally high crime rates considering the surrounding neighbourhoods. But it always seemed like the sort of problem that would sort itself out, with proper police intervention after a crime big enough. For once, Metal hoped that it wasn't true. He felt something pulling on his stump, and pulled the stuffing from his coat sleeve he had used to look like someone with two arms.

From his stump, a long, steel rod had sprouted, ending in a blade. He just gazed down at it, uncaring of how peculiar it was. It was a weapon... Jewel Street. Metal turned, and walked with purpose.

That was all 23 years ago... and Metal had still never found the man who had killed his parents. He had killed a lot of people, he might've even killed some of the men who were with the man on the day, but he knew it had never been the man. He felt incomplete no matter how many people he killed. Still, Metal haunted Jewel Street like a ghost, pretending to assemble gangs just to get a close-up look at his group's members, and killing them if they seemed to even slightly fit the bill.

And now, he stood here. The kid with the claws was on the ground in front of him, and Metal peered at him over the barrel of the shotgun he had synthesized. The woman in the doorway was still collapsed, screaming and gasping, watching her friends get killed. The words from 23 years ago rang out in his mind.

'Nah. I'm not gonna kill a kid.'

As the boy looked up at him with fear in his eyes, Metal replayed it over and over in his head.

'Nah. I'm not gonna kill a kid.'

The woman in the corner of the room, unable to do anything, completely helpless, like he had been, just sitting on the stairs.

'Nah. I'm not gonna kill a kid.'

His shotgun. A fucking shotgun.

'Nah. I'm not gonna kill a kid.'

Metal inhaled deeply like he was about to break down crying. He slowly lowered his shotgun, absorbing it back into his arm. He couldn't believe he had fired that shot earlier. He couldn't believe he had been about to try again. What kind of monster was h-

Metal felt a hand clench weakly on his arm.

He looked down... it was the girl! Sweat-drenched hair hung over her determined eyes, but Metal knew what she was planning.

"NO-" was all he could shout before the blast went off.

Metal was thrown to the wall lightly, and heard the boy and the woman both scream in horror. Looking down, he saw that girl's hand was completely gone - blown off entirely from just under the wrist as she writhed in pain on the floor. Blood pooled around her. Images flashed through Metal's mind... his father bleeding out on the ground... he had done nothing. NOTHING. He had been desperate for revenge because in the moment he did nothing, and had to do something after. He wanted revenge on himself. He should've been better! Metal exhaled slowly. Now was different.

He tore off his belt, and fastened it around the girl's stump.

"Call an ambulance right fucking now!"