Righto, here’s something to break the drought. It’s part of the WWN Grand Battle 3; I won’t bother further explaining the context, as I doubt it’d be of much interest to anyone who isn’t up to speed with the whole thing.
Alex couldn’t quite bring himself to hate the ground. There was no doubt that it had betrayed him; the soft earth had given under his feet the instant the robot’s fist descended upon him, leaving Alex quite literally six feet under.
But – and it was always but, in his experience – it really was quite comfortable. He was deep enough to gain some respite from the greenhouse’s heat, and between the cool and what any sane man would have identified as a concussion he felt quite at ease. Part of him nagged away, insisting that he was supposed to be putting on a show, but for once Alex didn’t feel the urgency of the call; perhaps he needed a little time to rest his mind.
Guess I might as well. He watched idly as hyperactive plants clawed their way up the walls of the pit. Busy little things. I wonder how they learn to do that?
Suddenly, the sky was occluded; when light returned to him, the tallest of the plants was missing its flower. Puzzling, really – plants weren’t known to lose bits of themselves out of nowhere.
Something was off here. Alex still didn’t really feel like fighting (a sensation that had yet to lose its novelty), but he acknowledged that he still needed to give the world its due. Perhaps some amateur detective work might be in order – a little time to rest his mind before getting back to the fight.
The earth immediately below him had been packed hard enough to take his weight; he sprung up into the light and landed on the edge of the crater made by the robot’s fist. Made of metal, just as he’d suspected. The robot itself had turned around and was walking away from him, which was a little disappointing. He’d have left it at that if he hadn’t sighted a flash of colour in one of the robot’s massive hands.
Zooming in, his suspicions were confirmed: the flower had taken off with the robot. Terribly convenient, really; he could track the thing down and get its side of events and then launch straight back into the fight. He braced himself to sprint after the pair, but caught himself in time to add a disclaimer for the audience.
“Don’t try this at home.”
He burst into action, running at a pace the enormous robot’s gait could not hope to match. Closing the distance in a matter of seconds, he took a running jump and caught hold of a protruding piece of metal near the thing’s knee joint. The contraption had convenient handholds all over it, so swarming up the back and down the arm was a trivial matter. The robot had even quite considerately extended its arm so he could stand while questioning the absconded bloom.
Deciding that a stern approach would serve him best, he glared at the flower, arms akimbo. “Right!” he shouted. “What’s the story, morning glory?”