Unpopular Science

But just as rapidly as he was drained of power, Remo felt it surge back—partially. He twisted and heard the thunk of the trident imbedding in dirt just inches from his shoulder. Remo was already launching himself off the ground and lashing out with one far-reaching leg.

The mechanical man shifted to ward off Remo, wisely using its nonfunctional hand to absorb the damage, and Remo’s foot slammed through it hard enough to tear the steel plates around the rivets. The arm slammed across Ironhand’s chest, then dangled from its shoulder socket by a few steel tendons.

Remo stepped up close, detached the arm with a yank, then melted away as another trident sizzled the air above him.

Where the hell was Chiun?

Remo collapsed again, hard, as Ironhand recharged its systems. The paralyzing weakness passed in a heartbeat, and Remo found himself staring at another bolt, aiming at his head. He tossed the separated arm, which deflected the trident with a shower of sparks. When the arm thumped to the earth, it was stained with black scoring.

“Aaiee, trash can!” Chiun danced in front of Ironhand, making a garish spectacle that even a robot would be distracted by, and Remo took advantage of it. He floated in.

Ironhand was unbelievably fast, but no discarded pile of factory equipment was faster than a Master of Sinanju. Remo cracked the good arm at its shoulder joint before it could fire. Ironhand spun with the attack, but its reaction time was a fraction too slow to save the arm. Remo hung on, Ironhand gyrated with a wild singing of servomotors, and the arm came off in an uncontrolled flash of blue lightning.

Ironhand’s systems would never need to discharge the power burst again, not without a firing mechanism, but the systems automatically began the generator anyway. Remo slammed to the ground and saw Chiun wilt and collapse.

It was like being dead, just for a moment, and each of those moments felt endless. But the moment faded and Remo pushed himself to his feet, vaulted to the robot, forced himself to clamber up the steel monster despite the lethargy in his limbs. Remo stood on its steel shoulders, easily keeping his balance regardless how Ironhand spun in both directions.

“You’ll never shake me, hunk of junk,” Remo said. Then he kicked Ironhand in the face, blow after blow, listening to the parts inside snap and crunch. Ironhand plodded across the yard, slammed through the shrubbery and careened into the street.

“Your rock-’em-sock-’em days are over,” Remo panted, his legs like lead. His nerves felt singed. Ironhand was gaining speed on the street, every step like the crunch of a dropped wrecking ball.

“Hey, Nick Chopper, give it up,” Remo said, and his next kick nodded the massive head back. Remo found himself staring down into the cold, electric eyes of the robot. Ironhand never slowed as its rampage carried it into a parked car. Remo jumped lightly just before the impact, which collapsed the door of a Ford sedan all the way through the driver’s half of the interior.

The armless robot lurched into the street and tried to make its head work, but the motors hummed in vain..

Remo, dangling from a nearby tree, stepped back on the thing’s shoulders and stared down into its cold face.

“Not a scratch on you. I bet you get good crash-test safety ratings. But now it’s recycling time.”

Remo slipped his fingers under the rim of the steel neck, felt for the weakness in the metal and pulled, but Ironhand put on a burst of speed, veered off the road and crashed through a wooden fence. There was nothing underneath it for almost seventy feet.

Remo stepped back onto solid ground as easily as if he were stepping off an escalator, while Ironhand did what would normally be expected of a ton of steel that had just gone off a cliff edge.

Remo blinked, squinted, trying to make his eyes see in the blackness. His breathing was still labored and his faculties remained diminished. The crash, though, should have been louder.

It wasn’t so much a cliff he was standing on as a steep hillside, and below was a mass of vegetation. The path of ruin showed where Ironhand went through it.

Remo didn’t take his eyes off the overgrowth, even when he heard Chiun approach behind him. “My son, are you injured?”

“Just catching my breath. Little Father. You okay?”

“Yes,” Chiun answered shortly, and Remo knew well enough that it wasn’t the truth. He could hear Chiun’s heart beating too quickly and he could sense Chiun willing himself to control it.

“Personally, I feel like hell,” Remo said. “Whatever this shit is, it’s bad shit.”

“I know whatever this shit is,” Chiun said.

‘You do?” Remo wanted to ask more, but at that moment a squad car careened into view, roared in their direction and screeched to a halt.

“Let us go,” Chiun said.

“I have to go down there.”

“You are too weak,” Chiun insisted. “As am I.”

Remo wouldn’t drag his eyes away from the place below him, even when the pair of Providence cops ambled up.

“Hey, buddy, you the driver?”

“No,” Remo said.