SHIT I'M TOO TOWERING

Amatrix leapt into the air, almost soaring. Gabbro took cautious steps backwards, squinting his eyes to calculate the distance between them. Amatrix sprung high enough to bang his head against the steel rafters of the factory. Gabbro chuckled to himself at the scenario. Amatrix ascent slowed until he was gliding in midair, and then sunk back down.
 Gabbro burst into a hurried run away from him, the weight of his bag and backpack slowing him down but not pulling him into a dangerous proximity. A deafening rumble resounded among the building, followed by the ground sprouting a flourish of cracks, heaving up massive chunks of stone and soil from beneath the flooring. Gabbro was still running as he realized his path started curving to the ceiling.
Well now. That…probably isn’t good. His path was getting steep and he was leaning backwards. He took a brief glance behind him, seeing Amatrix in the center of the heaved masses. Gabbro clenched his teeth as he prepared himself. He twisted back, seeing Amatrix in the center.
 Gabbro ran straight towards him. The curve and direction of the platform he was running along pressed his body down, causing him to trip and gravity attempted to coax him into a tumble. Amatrix’s image was growing as he continued to dart along the upheaval. He allowed his bag to be pulled back by the wind. Amatrix backed away, several black tentacles from his semi-solid armor sprouting from his back.
He was mere meters away before Gabbro jumped. His knees sprung his body up surprisingly far, a combination of the forward-steepness from the lifted platform and the momentum carried by his run. While he was airborne, he swung his heavy, weapon-containing pack behind him. Amatrix looked confused.
That means I have the element of surprise! he thought. Or, the element of demise. Probably the latter at this point.
Gabbro—arms straining and body trembling—brought the bag forward as he was feet away from Amatrix. The dense bag swayed forward, and struck Amatrix directly on the crown of his head. Gabbro heard a profound crack as he tumbled behind Amatrix, rolling up another upheaved platform as he thudded to the ground. Amatrix barely looked stunned, however. Worry pushed against Gabbro’s mind.
And there goes my silver-lining. Great! he thought. That is, if I ever had one.
He was surprised that the gun in his pack hadn’t gone off from the force of the impact. Amatrix had already composed himself, looking more dazed than injured. Gabbro rose, stance awkward in the depth of the direction the upheaval pointed to. Amatrix gave an annoyed look. Gabbro squinted.
“Jesus Christ. Your hair’s greasy—use some shampoo, kiddo. Just because your…well, all-powerful doesn’t mean you need to abuse your hygiene, you know.”
“Shut up.”
“I think you mean, gun up.”
Amatrix raised his brows inquisitively. Before he could respond, Gabbro tore off the flap on the top of his pack—which he now held like a rifle. Protruding from the opening of the pack was a long, metallic barrel. Before Amatrix could make any actions, Gabbro had already pulled the trigger of the weapon through the fabric of the pack.
A shower of white-hot flashes and sparks emerged from its muzzle, sending a multitude of bullets towards Amatrix. Amatrix jerked back, body trembling and quaking with each projectile penetrating his thick yet viscous armor. Gabbro relented his control of his trigger, and Amatrix dropped to the ground with a thud. The pack sloughed from the gun and drifted to the ground. He lifted the rifle up, one hand gripping the handle and the other hand clutching the forestock. “Hah. Y’see, it’s funny, because I just shot you to death. Maybe.” Gabbro said.
“When Zircon was trying to kill you, he used compressed light capsules. But I noticed something odd. Your armor is made of corrupted Light—like the metallis kind of Light—and is quite absorbent. Your armor started swelling up where you were struck, and you weren’t getting damaged. I thought that was weird, and I did some research on Seizar Pockets—the thing you got stuck in. What gave you that weird-as-hell armor. I read that Seizar Pockets absorb any kind of photic ray—so that means light beams and things like that.”
He chuckled slightly. “So, I didn’t use light. I used solid bullets instead.” He looked at the machine gun in his hands. “And I’ll give absolute credit to humans. They make really, really good weapons—I’d say just a step down from light-rifles.” he said. The bullet holes on Amatrix were bleeding, trails of blood mixing with the peculiar Seizar jelly and producing a dark-red slime. Gabbro gave a disgusted look at the mixture.
“And that armor doesn’t make you anymore handsome. I know you’re a teenager and you feel insecure about yourself so you start whining and change your color scheme to black and try to kill people, but there’s no excuse in what you’re doing, mister. You should be ashamed of yourself!”
Amatrix said nothing as his body rose from the ground. Underneath him were large, red splotches. The bullets had traveled completely through his body. Gabbro looked concerned. He was sure that he shot him in vital places—they penetrated important organs. Why wasn’t he dead?
“I’m going to kill you, as slow as possible.”
Gabbro chuckled, eyebrows raised. “What do you think I came here for?”
Amatrix took a threatening step forward. Gabbro swung the rifle out of his hand, still holding it, and then swiped forward, slamming the machine gun into Amatrix’s face. He was stunned—but remained more composed than damaged.
“Taking it like a champ. I guess that Seizar shit numbed your nerves, huh?” he said. “Well I’m sure you can feel this!” he swung it back over, striking him in the face again. Likewise, Amatrix seemed nonplussed by the hit. Gabbro’s eyes widened.
“Damn, you’re pretty dense.” he said. “But not as dense as me!” He swung the weapon again. Amatrix was unaffected by the impact. Gabbro dropped the gun. It clattered as it fell to the ground.
He chuckled nervously. “…Oh yeah, tough guy? Well, how ‘bout this!” Gabbro drew a stubby dagger from a pocket surrounding his belt. He grasped the back of Amatrix, pulled him forward, and rammed the knife into his stomach. The taller metallis remained stable. Gabbro backed away, releasing his grip on the weapon. Amatrix made no effort to remove the dagger embedded in his stomach. It protruded from his abdomen at an odd angle. Gabbro cringed slightly.
“Huh. I guess killing you is gonna be a…stab in the dark?” he quipped. Amatrix looked infinitely more enraged. “Heh. Any way you slice it, this is a problem.”
“Stop it.”
“Come on, don’t cut to conclusions. These are some sharp jokes I’m making!”
“You’re a fool, Gabbro.”
“Thanks.”
Amatrix’s tentacles shot out, wrapping around his neck. Another bundle of tendrils surrounded his jaw and sealed it shut. The limbs lifted Gabbro up, feet dangling and face reddening as he struggled to pull off the tentacles. He was surprised by the fluid control Amatrix obtained over his armor. When he watched him fight Zircon, the Seizar jelly worked rarely—even then, its practical use was random. “If you try one more thing,” Amatrix said. “I’m going to break your jaw. Maybe I’ll even torture you some.”
Gabbro momentarily pulled the tendrils down from his jaw. They were still weak and elastic in spite of Amatrix’s control.
“Too bad.” Gabbro said. His leg shot up, and he reached into his sock. He pulled out an even smaller dagger, and in one swift motion, sliced off the tentacles gripping him. The limbs fell lax and unresponsive, losing their grip on him and causing him to fall back onto the ground. Amatrix looked disgruntled but still not worried.
“Goodness grief, you’re boring.” Gabbro said. Amatrix prepared to summon a new length of limbs, but Gabbro took the moment to flee up another upheaval. The trail was steep and taxing on his legs but he ignored it and continued upwards. He reached the top and gazed over the edge of it, peering down as if he were on a towering cliff. Gabbro glanced back. Amatrix was taking slow, pounding steps upwards. Each step engraved a massive crack on the ground. Gabbro’s eyes widened.
That’s…remarkably unsettling. Killing someone who leaves cracks in the ground wherever he goes is usually a bad sign. he thought.
 Gabbro shrugged off the backpack hanging from his shoulders and allowed it to dangle from his grasp. He looked back up. Amatrix was a quarter of the way up—obviously trying to intimidate him with his sluggish proceedings—giving time for the “fear” to sink in. It was a stupid move.
He zipped open the pack and withdrew a large jug, black cap topping it. He set the pack aside and unscrewed the top. “Hey Amatrix!” he yelled.
The teen looked up.
“Are ya thirsty?”
Amatrix gave another inquisitive look. Gabbro turned the jug down, and allowed a deluge of translucent, watery liquid to pour from the jug. It spilled down the upheaval and started accumulating around Amatrix’s feet—who had then advanced half of the way. Amatrix still looked confused.
“On second thought, you probably shouldn’t drink this,”
Amatrix glanced at Gabbro.
“Because it’s gasoline.” Gabbro said.
In an instant, Gabbro’s hands shot into his pack and pulled out a small box. He gripped its end and pulled out a compartment in it. Inside were rows of small, toothpick-wide items topped with a hardened, red blob. Matches.
He pulled out one of them, scraping it along the callused side of the box. Amatrix’s eyes widened. The end of the match lit up with a small burst of flame. Gabbro tossed the fiery match forward, and it plinked into the long puddle of gasoline.
A massive, golden inferno burst into life. The fire consumed Amatrix and spread along the upheaval. Gabbro could hear a faint scream being muffled by the roaring of the fire. Gabbro suppressed a laugh as he turned back, picked up his backpack, and jumped off the upheaval’s cliff. He allowed himself to drop a few meters, and then jabbed the pack with his fingers. It shone like gold, and then its strap tore away from itself and wrapped around a crag protruding from the upheaval’s wall. The unattached strap tightened with a knot-like grip and supported him, hanging meters from the ground.
Gabbro let his hands slide down the pack and grabbed the bottom of it.
Shutting his eyes and hoping for the best, he let go.