The latest forum short story competition was Squaxx cinema – a mash-up of a 2000AD character with a film. The winner was Mark Howard with his Blade Runner – The 2000th Cut story. Thanks to Mark for permission to reprint it here. Watch out in the general part of the forum for a new competition soon.
Deckard crashed onto the rotten timbers of the roof. Rain and splinters stung his aching body, his hand spasmed with grinding cramp. This was it, for sure. The replicant would be on him soon, with the strength to tear him apart.
He scrambled across the slimy surface, searching for a weapon – a piece of metal, a length of wire, a discarded length of wood – something, anything. But there was nothing.
Nothing. Not even the expected attack. Where the Hell was it? Why had the replicant not killed him already?
Deckard rolled onto his back, determined to at least die facing his attacker. He swiped the rain and grit from his eyes. Batty stood over him, head cocked like a curious dog. Deckard, his desperate feet slipping and scraping, pushed himself away until he collided with something and could go no further.
The replicant didn’t follow. What was it doing? Was that a dove in its hand? Deckard’s jaw tightened. It was playing with him, stretching out the kill.
Its white hair and skin slick with rain, the replicant grimaced as if against a migraine and then forced itself to gaze into Deckard’s eyes. It licked rain from its lips. “I’ve seen things…”
Roy Batty’s head exploded, its replicant brains darker and thicker than human tissue.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Deckard looked around. “Slade! Am I glad to see you!”
Sam Slade nudged the replicant’s corpse with the toe of his boot. “You shouldn’t be,” he said.
Deckard frowned. “Hell do you mean, Sam?”
Slade almost flinched, obviously uncomfortable. “Bryant sent me.”
Deckard began to pull himself off his back. “Bryant? What do you mean?”
Slade raised his gun. “Sorry, Deckard, truly I am.”
The single gunshot echoed across the rooftops as the rain eased and stopped. Slade, his face betraying guilt, stepped over the Deckard replicant’s corpse to meet the incoming police flyer.
Just one more to go. Then that was it. He couldn’t do this any more – replicants were too human – so he’d turn in his badge. Stick it up Bryant’s fat ass. Employing replicants to catch replicants was too much.
But what else could he do? Slade nodded as Gaff brought the flyer in to land. There were lots of ordinary robots going rogue these days – maybe he could go private; hunting them instead…