Burnout's world narrowed to a pinpoint.
In the waning light of the sun, his eyesight zoomed down to take in the scene. Burnout's awareness focused in on Ryan Mercury and the item that hung from the human's belt. The human and his hostage were inside the helicopter now. Trying to escape.
Burnout would not allow that to happen. He moved up to the side of the hangar, a silent ghost of metal and flesh. Longing for the power he sensed Mercury carried. It was the pinpoint, the center of Burnout's existence. And he would have it at any cost.
As he moved carefully and silently in the lengthening shadow of the hangar, Burnout swung the minigun and held it in one metal hand, ready to fire. He adjusted the ammo-belt as he rounded the corner of the corrugated metal building, making sure there were no twists or kinks.
He flipped his grenade launcher into his other hand, and surveyed the scene. A cluster of people crowded the helicopter. Three inside, including Ryan Mercury, the elf biff hostage, and the pilot. Seven others stood slightly away as the helo's blades began the slow rotation to power up.
No more than five meters from the helo, Burnout saw the VTOL jet-a Lear-Cessna Platinum III-cooling on its wheels. He estimated that no more than five people could be left inside. Besides, all he had to do was target the fuel tanks. Easy, loud, and spectacular to watch.
There were people in the hangar, but he would worry about them after he'd taken out the rest. The rotor spun faster. The helo's rising whine creeping through Burnout's circuits like a software glitch. Like that drekking psychosomatic itch that he could never scratch.
/ will not let the power escape.
His universe collapsed then, his entire existence focused down on his goal, drawing him out of the shadows. Moving across the tarmac, his weapons ready to start screaming, Burnout accelerated up to full speed. Anyone in his path would be blown to tiny shreds of bloody flesh. None would be spared. None deserved the effort.