KYBER-PUNK 22BBY [Inspired Inventor+]

— The Force Itself —

Excitement, awe, and anticipation filled the air, racing through Night City like a tidal wave. It began at the center of the city and spread outward as wildfire. The emotions didn't rest or wane for a moment. Only grew and grew, history in the making building to a feverish peak. A statement made, a challenge cast —everyone waited to see them fulfilled on the edge of their proverbial seats.

And in a meeting of so many comm lines, a haven of information shared, it all culminated and condensed, creating something… most amusing… for the Force to watch, for the Light to titter at, and for the Dark to cackle.

Welcome to the HyperComm Online message boards.

You are currently logged in, SignificantAsAnAtom

You are viewing:

• Threads you have replied to

• AND Threads that have new replies

• OR private message conversations with new replies

• Thread OP is displayed.

• Ten posts per page

• Last ten messages in private message history.

• Threads and private messages are ordered chronologically.

■

♦ Topic: WHAT... the actual fuck.

In: Boards ► Nar Shaddaa ► Night City ► Happenings

Star Chaser (Original Poster) (Thelas Nomad) (Supporter)

Posted On Dec 10th 0028:

Has anyone been to Corpo Plaza lately? If so, you seein' what I'm seein'? The thread's title says it all, chooms. What... the actual fuck.

(Showing page 1 of 11)

►CatEyes

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

No shot! I just saw it, too! I was coming to make a thread but you beat me to it, OP. For real, though, accurate. WTF...?

►RebelTree (Supporter)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

I've got the paydata for those who can't check it themselves. Pics attached.

[Image][Image][Image]

Heavy stuff.

►Rogue Daemon (Supporter) (Netrunner)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Bold as brass. History in the making, chooms. Someone tagged Arasaka Tower, and they ain't playin' around.

►QuantumServer (Supporter)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

DAMN! Not even a little bit! That's a challenge if I've ever seen one! And to Arasaka's Chrome Rancor himself! Anyone recognize the tag?

►Snuggles (Supporter)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

It's gotta be the capital 'G' Gonks, right? I think everyone in Night City recognizes the name 'Atom' these days. And he's the only one ballsy enough to challenge Smasher outright. First Slimy Slugs and now Chrome Rancors. Damn...

►Bored (Supporter) (Taggin' Tags)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Oh, that's Lil' Lucy's work for sure. Can't forget her flair. It's been a while since anyone's seen her around though. Guess she got tangled up with the Gonk Cartel. Good for her...? Maybe...?

Idk but Luce if you're seeing this, the boys and I have missed your sprayer. You're always welcome to come taggin' with us.

►CyberkittySash (FREE GONKS) (Netrunner)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

What... the actual fuck. Atom... (: No, this is fine. Yes, completely, utterly, fraggin' fine.

►Del_o_rio_io (FREE GONKS)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Stay chilled, Sasha-girlie. I'm sure he was going to tell us about this latest insanity. Eventually...

►ChoomFrom6th (6th Street Gangers)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Well, that looks like confirmation for me. Guess Militech's problems are solving themselves. Good. I wasn't looking forward to us being called up for that.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 9, 10, 11

(Showing page 2 of 11)

►6thStreetCruiser (6th Street Gangers)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

@ChoomFrom6th - Shit, was that a possibility? I knew the bosses were up to something, but I didn't think they'd be throwing in with losers. Corpo losers, sure, but the writing's on the wall, ya know?

►ChoomFrom6th (6th Street Gangers)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

@6thStreetCruiser - Nothing we can do if Militech decides to flex on us. They've got... leverage. My pistol is Militech. I'll bet yours is too, choom. It's the same shit for the rest of 6th Street. Figure out the rest?

Not lookin' forward to it but I ain't holding my breath, either. Not unless the Big Gonk gets himself smashed before it can happen.

►BigMaine (FREE GONKS) (LEGEND)

Replied On Dec 10th 0202:

This ain't how I would've gone about things, but it's only right. That Full-Borg Bastard took Shaitan as a fraggin' trophy. Atom's gonna set that shit right. The Gonks are behind him.

►CyberkittySash (FREE GONKS) (Netrunner)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Just wish he would've kriffing told us something beforehand... Nah, this is fine. It's fine. Atom's Atom, so it's fine. Nothing to it. Atom will do what Atom does best and blow all our fraggin' minds.

►Divine Tooka (Supporter)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Oh, kark... This is really happening, isn't it? Night City's Ass is going up against the Chrome Rancor?! Holy kriff! Show for the frelling ages!

►Max-i-Mum (Supporter)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

He is the Messiah! Smasher's Smasher!

►Ace-Cass (Supporter) (Arasaka)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Nah, Smasher wins 9 times out of 10. It's Adam Fucking Smasher. The Gonk doesn't stand a chance.

►DerkKill (Supporter)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

@Ace-Cass - Willing to put your money where your mouth is?

►Ace-Cass (Supporter) (Arasaka)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

@DerkKill - Oh, yeah! Anyone who bets against Adam Fucking Smasher is a gonk and a Gonk. Arasaka's Chrome Rancor is gonna tear him to fucking shreds.

►Ethirical (Supporter)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Frag all of that, he's MY Messiah, that's for sure. Anyone willing to throw down with the Smasher and declare the challenge for the whole city to watch deserves that much of a shot, at least.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4 ... 9, 10, 11

(Showing page 3 of 11)

►SignificantAsAnAtom (FREE GONKS) (LEGEND (in the Making))

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

... I'm no one's fucking Messiah.

►Max-i-Mum (Supporter)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

So humble! He is the Messiah!

►OnceChained (FREE GONKS) (The Freed)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

The Freed stand with the Breaker of Chains... Even for fights unrelated to freedom.

►SignificantAsAnAtom (FREE GONKS) (LEGEND (in the Making))

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

... I'm so not dealing with this shit right now. Smasher dismantled MY Full-Borg. It's only fair I fuck him up in return. That's it. That's all there is to it. I'm just here to brawl and spite God, the Devil, or whoever the fuck else Smasher is closest to.

►Flashychoom (Supporter)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Mood. BIG fraggin' mood.

►BigMaine (FREE GONKS) (LEGEND)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Legends fight Legends. It's just the way of things.

That said, you better be ready for one hell of a welcome when you come back, Atom. Sasha hasn't stopped grinning that eerie-ass grin of hers since she found this thread.

►CyberkittySash (FREE GONKS) (Netrunner)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

(: This. Is. Fine.

►The Blackhand (LEGEND) (*Presumed Dead*)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

**Chuckling. Snickering. Fucking Chortling.**

Good luck, Youngblood.

►Altered_State (Supporter)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Is that...?

►Cal-leo (Supporter)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Holy Sith. Morgan Fraggin' Blackhand. That old Legend isn't dead?!?! And he's a lurker?!

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ... 9, 10, 11

(Showing page 4 of 11)

►VisV (Arasaka) (Rancor Handler)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Direct quote from Smasher: "FUCK MORGAN KARKING BLACKHAND UP THE ASS WITH HIS OWN FUCKING HAND."

And he was enjoying himself so much until you showed your face, Blackhand lol

He's totally on board with the challenge, by the way. Like, OVER-BOARD. Fucking bold, Atom, but you got his attention. Just couldn't wait, could ya? Almost like you wanted to see us again~...

Oh, and he says he'll fight you right under Corpo Plaza.

►The Blackhand (LEGEND) (*Presumed Dead*)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

@VisV (and Smasher) -

**Still kicking. Thriving. Living it up with a drink in hand and a Zeltron babe on each arm**

... Rude.

►SignificantAsAnAtom (FREE GONKS) (LEGEND (in the Making))

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

@VisV - No shot. Neutral ground or nothing.

►VisV (Arasaka) (Rancor Handler)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

@SignificantAsAnAtom - Can't be Watson or the Limits, then. Pacifica Combat Zone?

►SignificantAsAnAtom (FREE GONKS) (LEGEND (in the Making))

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

@VisV - That works. We'll both feel right at home... The suicidally daring gonks can come watch and I'll make sure it's broadcasted for the rest.

►RIMBO-BECKS! (FREE GONKS) (LIL' LEGEND)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

Fraggin' preem~! The violence will be televised! We'll make a pretty eddie from this show! DM me for bets, people! I already know I'm betting on my big choomba Atom!

►Star Chaser (Original Poster) (Thelas Nomad) (Supporter)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

I'll take some of that action. He can fuck up some Hutts for sure but what are his odds against Adam Fucking Smasher? The galaxy may have gone mad but it's not THAT mad… right?

►CyberkittySash (FREE GONKS) (Netrunner)

Replied On Dec 10th 0028:

(: (: (: THIS. IS. FINE.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 ... 9, 10, 11

■

Most amusing, indeed, even the Force felt so. A strange sensation, but its local champion called for more attention than most. The Force was left, mostly, to just watch. This challenge would serve as another building block, another stepping stone for glory and the weight of great feats. Yet it was something for the champion to overcome on his own.

The most the Force would interfere — in respect for the champion's efforts in healing and purging it of infestation — was to add a bit of extra fuel to his preparations, to the potential that sprung forth from the spark of his being. Everything else was for the champion to overcome with his own spite and efforts.

IIIII

— Atom —

The Pacifica Combat Zone was a glorious, glorious shithole. Abandoned urban sprawl like the Limits, but even more scarred by constant combat. It was the perfect place for a moon-shaking duel. I glared out over the chosen arena as I prepped and fortified myself. Here, a Legend would be made in truth. No more 'in the making' bullshit. I'd cement myself by overthrowing the king. By fucking up the 'natural order' just as I was doing with the Hutts.

Sasha — standing behind me like a pretty cyberkitty shadow — had been reduced to only three words and a constant, eerie smile since I'd issued my challenge, "This. Is. Fine."

Becca was bouncing around, shadowboxing on my behalf, "Boom, boom, bop~! Pow, wow, yow~! Give 'em hell, Atom!"

"Don't play around with him, Atom," Maine advised somberly. "Go 110 from the start."

"I've got this, choom," I said resolutely. "Don't stress, I'll pull out all the stops."

"Worst comes to worst, we've got your back, choom," David said firmly.

I shook my head, "Don't get yourself killed. This is something I have to do myself. Worst comes to worst, you all fend for yourselves."

David snorted, "Fat fraggin' chance, choom."

The loyalty shown was reassuring, but for once, I couldn't fully appreciate it, "Just… don't interfere."

The others didn't say anything, but I could sense that the mood was just as somber and strained among them. Kiwi played passive, but I could tell she still cared. Lucy was more confident of my chances, but there was worry there as well. Gloria didn't bother with the passive act, hugging me so my head rested on her chest.

"Come back to us, mijo," She said. "Win or lose, we'll still love you. We'll still need you. I might not completely approve, but I am proud of you. So proud. So don't leave my son without a brother, neh?"

Sasha's sudden giggle cut through the air with an eerie energy, "This is fine. This… is… fine…"

Challenging Smasher wasn't something to be done lightly. Some might call it suicidal. Not the crew, but they still worried for me. I knew they wouldn't stop me from doing what had to be done, though.

Across the way, Smasher and V had already arrived. They kept to themselves, as if completely unbothered by the history about to be made. Witnesses had come as well, though none of them stepped forward to interfere. They were there to watch a duel between two titans. An audience to history. Nothing more.

This was a Night City event. And while the rest of the Gonk Cartel supported me, they weren't there to worry themselves over the outcome. It mattered, of course. If I fell here, there was a chance everything would fall apart. I'd entrusted David to finish what we'd started, but he'd have his work cut out for him. It wouldn't come to that, though. I'd make certain it wouldn't.

Already, we were being broadcast to the rest of Night City. Knowing the city as I did, everyone would be watching on the edge of their seats. War against the Hutts might've been the event of the century — millennium, maybe — but it happened almost in the background for most people. Simply living in interesting times vs. Watching those interesting times play out right in front of them.

Challenging Smasher to a one-on-one duel was more present, more immediate. It was, in a way, more real. Here, everyone in Night City knew what they were watching: a Legend being cemented. It was a single event that people could see with their own eyes. And the consequences of it would become immediately apparent and immediately recognizable, everyone knew.

There was no time to waste fucking about. Not when there was violence to be done, history to be made, a new Legend to rise, and an old one to fall.

I pushed away from the crew, making the walk into No Man's Land of my own volition. Smasher mirrored me, V at his side and those baleful eyes of his glaring like nothing else. The rest of the crew let me go, though Sasha had to be held back. But my walk into No Man's Land was joined by the Jedi with us. They were outsiders, and unattached as a result, left somewhat oblivious to the weight of things to come.

"Is this truly necessary?" Quinlan asked, genuinely curious rather than reproachful.

"It is," I gave a curt nod. "If you're not from Night City, you wouldn't get it. Not completely. Smasher is a Legend. That means something unique in Night City."

"I gathered that much," Quinlan said. "I don't understand it, but I can recognize that the title of 'Legend' means something different to you all."

I grunted, "This fight has been in the making since I first squared off against him. It's inevitable. It'd happen one way or another. So I'd rather get it done sooner rather than later, while I can somewhat control the flow of things."

"We walk paths of our own making," Fay said wisely. "Worry not, we shall not try to dissuade you, Atom. You feel this must be done, and so we shall support you in this endeavor."

Aayla shrugged, "Just seems kind of… irrelevant…? What with kyber-spice and the Hutts also requiring your attention. I feel like the effort you're using here would be used more effectively to address those issues. I suppose I just don't see what the big deal about this 'Smasher' fellow is."

We reached the center of No Man's Land as she said that. Smasher and V came to stand across from us. I locked my gaze with the Full-Borg and him with me. Neither of us wavered an inch.

I didn't know what was going through Smasher's head. But in the Force, I could feel… satisfaction with how things had developed. In the strangest way, he was almost proud. At the same time, he was clearly eager to see me smashed by his chrome. Contradictory-ass old man…

I saw V smirk out of the corner of my eye as she caught the tail end of Aayla's words, "Put some respect on his name, Jedi. Smasher bare-knuckle boxed the Master of your Order once."

I had to smother a snort of laughter at that, but it brought Aayla up jarringly short, "… He what?"

"WINDU," Smasher rumbled. "I STILL OWE THAT BALD MOTHERFUCKER A REMATCH."

I could sense Aayla's mind stutter in the Force, "He… what…?!"

"SHOO, LITTLE JEDI," Smasher growled. "THIS IS BETWEEN ME AND THE MEAT-CLONE."

I nodded, waving for them to leave me to my coming fight. Quinlan gently guided his blue-screening former Padawan away. Fay moved to follow before hesitating a moment. Quickly, she ducked back in and leaned toward me. A gentle kiss brushed against my cheek.

Blushing, Fay pulled back, "F-For good luck."

Only then did she follow the other two Jedi, her fingers grazing her lips as if she was surprised by her own actions. As they retreated, Smasher gave me a single, genuine nod of respect for that exchange.

"… NICE."

"I wish you good luck as well, Atom," Shaitan spoke up then. His head and biopod were attached at Smasher's waist. Hanging there. The sight and reminder taunted me, even as he wished me luck. "I have faith that you'll do… what I couldn't manage."

"WON'T CHANGE OUR RECORD," Smasher snorted. "2 AND 0, SAMURAI."

"I have made peace with that," Shaitan replied, his voice steady despite his situation.

V rolled her eyes, "Alright, enough of all this 'good luck' shit. We got violence to get to or what?"

"BEST BE READY, MEAT-CLONE. YOU AIN'T GETTING ANY MORE TIME. LAST CHANCE TO PUSSY OUT," Smasher challenged.

"Not a chance," I shot back. "I'm ready."

And I was. My preparations for our duel had been somewhat simple by my standards. I'd earned four points to spend — from freeing Night City's gangs/purging the local Hutts, the week ticking over, the Militech raid, and helping the Force with its infestation — and I spent all of them.

There were only so many things that could immediately help me against Adam Fucking Smasher. Two points were spent to upgrade Shatterpoint to level III. The other two were spent unlocking a skill to fight Smasher's fire with fire of my own: PanzerFaust II. The shaking, quaking, unmaking martial art was designed for Full-Borgs like Smasher. But Living Beskar seemed to be a suitable substitute.

Additionally, I updated my full-body Upgrade further — better, faster, stronger — and got myself started with Force Pyrokinesis under Fay's tutelage. Against someone like Smasher, weapons were important. But they also quickly reached a point of diminishing returns. In the end, I settled on just my trusty 44-blaster revolver, my beskar spear, a scorpion-esque tail-blade, and a pair of 'small' thermal detonators.

Inspired Inventor+

Humanity [Maxed]

Scavenging I

Scrapyard Mechanics I

Emergency/Improvised Medical Care II

Cyberware I

Brawling (Weapons Varied) I

Force Healing II

Genetic Engineering (Evolutionary) I

Force Alchemy III

Gun-Fu II

Espionage II

Force Sensitivity IV

Coordination II

Art of the Small II

Shatterpoint II [+2] -> III

Delegation I

Material Sciences I

Warfare II

Mechu-Deru I

[+2] -> PanzerFaust II

[+0] -> Force Pyrokinesis I

It would all be enough to see me through. It had to be. There was nothing else to do. The rest would be up to me. Tools, powers, skills, and most importantly, spite. I'd be using everything at my disposal against Smasher. All that was left was the action.

V relieved Smasher of Shaitan's head, chuckling as she did, "Alright, boys, have fun. I'm gonna help with the broadcast and watch the show with your crew, Atom."

"Sasha's going to shank you," I deadpanned.

"And isn't that half the fun~?" V teased. "Toodles~!"

I glanced at her back and the sway of her hips as she waltzed away without a care. It was a nice view, but I glanced back to Smasher and raised a questioning brow, "Toodles?"

Smasher huffed — actually fucking huffed, "… FUCKING TOODLES… THAT BRAT IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME."

I was planning to claim that honor for myself, but I didn't say anything. I simply… waited. The silence breathed mounting tension into the air between us. Anticipation. And not just for me and Smasher. I could practically taste the emotions in our audience. All eyes were on us, watching and waiting for the first move.

A question settled into my mind as the tension built. It turned over and over in my mind, just as inciting as it was introspective. The answer didn't come easily, but the question didn't pass, either. After all, it was almost painfully relevant right now. Even on the verge of violence, I couldn't completely ignore it.

In the end, what makes a Legend?

There was no countdown. No starting pistol. Just building silence… and then an explosion of motion.

I opened with a lunge, opened by dashing right up into Smasher's face with a quickly drawn beskar spear-knife aimed at his cheek plate. It was a killing blow to lesser men. The kind that carved faces from the very skulls they rested upon.

Smasher opened… by pimpslapping me into next fucking week.

I was sent sprawling and soaring, unanchored from the ground and thrown around by the Full-Borg five times my weight. The Force made tumbling through the air easy. I twisted my feet back under me and landed with a skid. I felt the blow in my beskar bones, but I was undeterred, glaring right back at Smasher across the distance opened between us.

Even then, the question lingered on my mind. What makes a Legend? Not money or fame or even power. Not truly. They helped, but they'd never make a Legend alone. Something… more was needed. More than anything tangible, something intangible. Something impossible to fake, something impossible to lie about. Legends… Legends need stories.

I drew down like a gunslinger and shot thrice. Chunky, double-shot blaster bolts burned through the air with snap-hisses. Smasher's frame blurred into motion as his Sandie activated. Nothing that big should move that fast, but Sandies were bullshit like that.

The first two shots missed. The third splashed almost harmlessly against Smasher's armor. Almost… Some chrome was still slagged by the plasma but it was far from enough.

Smasher drew down with a hand cannon of his own. I was already moving to dodge. But Smasher's aim tracked me with uncanny accuracy, advanced targeting systems undoubtedly picking up what little slack he had to give.

When it fired, Smasher's hand cannon sounded like the world coming to an early end. Thick slugs were spat my way at supersonic speed. I cut through the first one in mid-air — beskar and speed slicing it in twain like a flying stick of butter (and about as big…). The second supersonic 'stick of butter' slammed into my chest and just about lifted me off my feet once more.

It didn't penetrate. But with that much energy, it almost didn't have to. Already, I felt the need to spend one of my thermal detonators. Smasher kept firing until his cannon was empty. I used the process of dodging the rest of the slugs to conceal the motion of palming the detonator.

I cooked the thermonuclear grenade out of sight until it was 'perfectly golden-brown'. The moment Smasher ran out of slugs, I chucked it. With the Force behind my throw, the detonator flew fast enough to make even Sandie dodging impossible. Smasher was consumed by a whining flash, a perfect sphere of eviscerating, atomizing heat.

It didn't even last a second. But that short, short moment of 'peace' was enough for me to catch my breath. Legends… Legends need stories, and I was carving one for myself.

It was all I'd been doing since I first 'woke up'. Mine was a story worthy of Legend, I knew. A thing of violence and drive and great feats, of weight and freedom, of SPITE against a reality that would've had me dead on arrival. All I had to do was make the rest of the galaxy see that. Force them to, if necessary.

While I caught my breath, the rest of the world held theirs. I could sense it in the audience, not just those here but everyone watching across all of Night City. Barely more than an instant but it seemed to drag on and on. Excitement, fear, tension, and awe — all they could do was wait for what came next, for Night City history to play out before their eyes.

As the flash of the thermal detonator faded, Smasher just walked straight out of the sphere of obliteration. Parts of his frame glowed a superheated red — almost white — but he'd very clearly survived. And the blast hadn't slowed him down a moment, even as chrome bits and pieces melted right off his frame as slag.

"SNEAKY LITTLE SHIT," Smasher rumbled. "YOU'RE ASKING FOR IT NOW. THERE GOES ALL MY IRON. GUESS WE'RE DOING THIS THE OLD-FASHIONED WAY. GET READY, SEMI-MEAT."

Immediately, I was back on my toes. The worst part was that he didn't give me a chance to quip back. Bastard… With huge, churning steps, he was running at me. Like a runaway hyper-train. Pure, unstoppable force. I didn't like my chances as the 'immovable' object in that situation.

Still, I deployed my spear in full and braced. It wasn't enough… Not even anchoring myself with the Force was enough. Smasher truly was unstoppable. The rampaging Full-Borg bowled over and through me in an instant. My spear lodged itself deep in his chest. And he just kept coming.

I was thrown back onto the ground. The next step, Smasher kicked me up for him to take another bite out of. He bucked again — so much like a bull — and I went flying. Only, Smasher didn't let it rest there. He charged after me, keeping pace with my flight. Then… began his game of 'keep it up'.

He hit me with blow after blow, fist after foot after elbow after knee. I felt like I would never touch the ground again. And even with Living Beskar, his strikes rocked me to my very core. My skin cratered by didn't crack. I felt blood begin to trickle from my orifices from the continued abuse. And though my bones didn't break, they damn well wanted to.

It was all I could do to maintain some semblance of composure over the pain and visceral fear of not being allowed to touch the ground. My supporters in the audience weren't so lucky.

I sensed Sasha's heart cry out for me even as her face was frozen in that damned grin of hers. I sensed David's frustration at their necessary inaction. Even Becca wasn't completely enjoying the violence when it was being done so one-sidedly to me.

Horror, awe, and morbid captivation were the names of the game. No one could look away as Smasher kept me up like a Force-damned shuttlecock. All I could do was keep track of Smasher's motions and tendencies. He favored his left foot but his right hand. He liked knee strikes over anything but punches. And… he was letting himself get somewhat carried away.

The tides turned in an instant. A shaking fist came at me in an uppercut. I caught it with both hands before it could truly land. With the Force flowing through me, I balanced atop the blow and rode it out. Finally, I found my anchor again. And it was through Smasher.

"SHAME," Smasher's face plate was melted and slagged, and couldn't have grinned anyway, but I swear it did then. "YOU MAKE FOR A HALF-DECENT PUNCHING BAG, SEMI-MEAT."

I snarled back at him, "Find another one."

I spun myself along my new anchor, coming from a handstand into a shaking, quaking, upside-down kick at his head. With it being used against me so much already, PanzerFaust settled easily into a version I could call my own. It came shakingly and quakingly and naturally. My whole leg vibrated with force and Force. Forcing flames trailed down my leg as it swung. It smashed into the side of Smasher's head like a clocktower's bell and for a moment, the giant was toppled.

He sprawled out with a great crash. The ground shook. Smasher's servos twitched as he hit the ground but his frame was far from immobilized. I dislodged myself from Smasher as my kick rocked him and landed on the balls of my feet. Already, he was getting back up.

Seeing him slowly push back to his feet, I couldn't help but mutter darkly, "Download fucking complete, you chrome motherfucker."

My supporters re-fucking-joiced in the audience as the comeback blow struck true and my feet came to touch the ground once more. I was battered and bruised from Smasher's game of 'keep it up', with blood trailing from my mouth, nose, and ears. But I was still fucking standing.

Don't-… No, I very well would call it a comeback. And it felt like, now, the fight had truly begun. Legends… Legends need stories, and I intended for mine to be properly unforgettable.

"I need that spear back, Smasher," I said simply, gesturing at the beskar rod lodged in his chest and poking out the other side.

"COME AND FUCKING GET IT."

I shot him a flat stare and just held out a hand. The Force grabbed my embedded spear by the haft. Through it, I pulled and twisted. Smasher grunted and stumbled ever-so-slightly as the blade tore through his frame on the way out. I would admit to some satisfaction at the sound. A fist-sized hole opened up in his chest, right where his heart should've been. My spear returned to my hand an instant later.

"Got it," I deadpanned.

"SARCASTIC LITTLE SHIT," Smasher grumbled. "YOU THINK THIS IS GOING TO STOP OR SLOW ME AT ALL?"

I shrugged, "Maybe not. But what comes next certainly will."

I reached for the Force, and through it, for Mechu-Deru. Smasher's chrome was laid out before me. But when I approached, an impenetrable wall of iron will suddenly stood in my way. Smasher's iron will. The kind of willpower that kept the legendary Full-Borg going for a hundred-plus years despite the complaints of the Living Force.

Immediately, I knew I wouldn't crack it. Smasher staked a claim on his chrome and it was unassailable.

"Fine," I scowled, muttering to myself. "It'll be the direct route, then…"

"SPEAK UP AND SAY IT WITH YOUR CHEST, YOUNGIN," Smasher quipped. "I CAN'T FUCKING HEAR YOU."

"I said," I began, already concentrating myself in the Force. "FUCK! YOU!"

My statement of spite was accompanied by a gesture of spite. A gesture of 'fuck off', of showing someone where to shove it. A closed fist on fire, extended violently upward while my off-hand clapped on the point where my bicep and inner elbow met. And as I gave Smasher the 'up yours', the Force eagerly followed along.

It came from behind him. As if I was actually punching my fist up his ass. Flames from nowhere splashed against his back. Smasher's slagged-out frame stumbled something fierce. Just like that, I was in front of him, swinging my spear so the wide blade would cut deep.

The leaf-shaped blade carved a scar across his faceplate, slicing through chrome as easily as air. Falling forward, Smasher lashed out with a jab to create space. Right hand. Just as I'd read. I shrugged a shoulder roll up beneath the jab, staying within his effective reach.

But Smasher caught himself with the next step, coming back up with a properly shaking knee. It hit me straight in the fucking gut. Air rushed and wheezed from my lungs. I Forced myself to remain standing, to keep up the pressure without breath.

My body rebelled without its precious air, but my spite wasn't so easily satisfied. Smasher tried to drive me back. Fuck him, I pressed forward. My spear collapsed back to knife form and I tore it through his arm. The cut was clean. His shoulder sparked and the limb was left hanging by wires and inner chrome.

I stabbed forward viciously and twisted the knife in his gut for payback. Through that twisting stab wound, I pushed. Smasher lifted up and away as the Force carried him. But he didn't tumble. His feet tore up the concrete where he landed.

That right arm of his should've been useless, but no one seemed to have told Smasher that. Nor about how the holes in his chest and now gut would've been instantly fatal for meat. Even another Full-Borg would've hesitated. But Smasher, that metal monster, just kept coming.

Knife to spear, I met his charge. Smasher forced twitching limbs to cooperate, to shake as he willed them to. A flurry of PanzerFaust-ian blows rained down upon me. I slipped back and away from the first few. I parried everything that came next on the shaft of my spear, even as Smasher's vibrations made it ring like a damn tuning fork.

I matched Smasher's vibrations with vibrations of my own, channeled from my core and through my constantly ringing spear. Purposefully, my vibrations played harmonic to Smasher's, canceling out his. His blows were left with 'nothing more' than the strength a Full-Borg could naturally muster.

I saw every strike he made before they were acted upon. Not through the Force. Smasher had somehow mastered masking his intentions in combat, likely as a trick against other 'Force-cunts'. But with my own eyes, I saw straight through him. Read him like an open book. A strange serenity settled over me then. I knew my enemy like I knew myself, and I would never lose.

The Force was with me. It breathed with me. It aided my every move. My Upgrade coursed through my veins as well, and I kept up with the most dangerous motherfucker on this side of the galaxy.

Legends… Legends need stories, and mine would truly shine through this fight.

Smasher did what he could to keep me on the defensive. But slowly, carefully, I began striking back. A few counters. A few darting jabs of my spear. He covered his shatterpoints well. A lifetime of combat experience made that process natural to him. But methodically, I made the cracks I needed to exploit.

His hanging-on right arm was the first to fall. A quick stab severed it the rest of the way. Smasher kept coming. His other arm went next, shattered into pieces at the elbow by a slam of my spear shaft. Smasher kept coming.

Armless, he kicked out at me as if nothing was missing from his frame. But the cracks were widening, and his shatterpoints were showing. I hit one head-on with obliterating force. Smasher's left leg crumbled at the knee. And Smasher. Kept. Fucking. Coming.

He landed on the stump of his leg and immediately leveraged it into a snapping kick with his last limb. Even then, the strike didn't feel desperate. Not from Smasher.

I met fire with fire, force with Force. PanzerFaust vibrated his last limb to a fever pitch. The Force backed my version of the Full-Borg martial art as I brought both of my hands down on his chrome thigh in a hammer blow.

Chrome gave. It fractured, splintered, and then exploded downward. Shrapnel pierced the concrete below. And with that, Smasher finally fell flat. He finally stopped. Still, I held him tight to the ground with the Force. I knew better than most what spite could drive a defeated foe to do.

Reaching down, I grabbed his head and wrenched it free, using the Force to ensure his biopod came with it. Now, Smasher mirrored Shaitan. I attached him to my waist like a still-living chrome trophy.

Smasher's head grunted, "WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA, NOT-MEAT?"

What makes a Legend…?

I answered the question aloud to Smasher, "Legends need stories, and those stories need to be heard and told wide and far. From now on, you're going to be my story's herald. You'll help Make. My. Story. Known."

"… NOT BAD… ATOM," Smasher said, and I heard genuine respect in his modulated tone. "THIS MEAN I GET TO RIDE ALONG FOR YOUR VIOLENCE?"

"… I guess I can grant you that much."

"IT'S THE LEAST YOU CAN FRAGGIN' DO."

"You realize you're never getting out of this, right?"

"I'LL FIND A WAY. I'M STILL ADAM FUCKING SMASHER. IF NOTHING ELSE, MY CHARM WILL WIN YOU OVER."

I snorted in humor, "Winning charm. Sure."

"OLD MAN SABURO WON'T LET ME GO EASY," Smasher informed me.

"I'll bet," I nodded. "But I need to talk with him anyway. You'll give me some good leverage. I'll be holding your beheaded chrome-ass over him for a long time yet."

"… IF I HAD TO LOSE TO ANYONE, AT LEAST IT WAS MY CLONE. IT'S LIKE JACKIN' IT. BARELY COUNTS."

"Don't ever compare me to masturbation again. And I beat your ass. It totally does count."

"NOT."

"Does."

"NOT."

"Does!"

"KEEP TELLING YOURSELF THAT… LEFT HAND."

"… I'm suddenly regretting every single choice I've made in my life."

That was about when the victorious cheers reached my ears and Force senses, along with Becca's chant of… "Atom 'the Adam Smasher' Smasher!"

"… And even more suddenly, my regrets have doubled."

"YOU'RE A REAL FRAGGIN' LEGEND NOW, ATOM. OWN THAT SHIT, OR I'LL BE TAKING MY NAME BACK WITH INTEREST."