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[AudioBoxer]

The backs of laundry trucks were always uncomfortable, especially to a photographer who was used to the spacious luxury of a foreign economy compact car. He decided to try and strike up a conversation with the girl sitting across from him.
"Hi, I'm Foxbow. What are you called?"
She purred like a large cat. "Kitty Saberrrr."
She didn't look much like a cat, let alone a saber-toothed tiger. In fact, she wasn't even wearing a fancy costume like he was. "Why are you named that?" Foxbow inquired.
She stood up and slinkily crossed the laundry truck floor toward him. He smiled. When she got within two feet of him, she pressed something on a cylinder in her right hand, and a blue blade of light lunged up between them.
"Oh," Foxbow commented, now certain that he'd indeed seen it all.
Suddenly, the sound of outside gunfire rang through their tiny room. The van started slowing down, as though the driver had just jumped out - or had been killed. "We're under attack," Foxbow cried, hitting the deck. He would have yelled "Get down!" had Kitty Saber not already dropped to the floor half a second before he did.
A bullet punched right through the cabin, exactly where Foxbow had been sitting, and sailed on out through the other side. Armor-piercing ammunition, Foxbow figured. Somebody was a big time operator here.
And armor-piercing bullets were only the beginning. The laundry truck heaved up into the air of its own accord and flew about thirty feet forward, crashing down on its passenger side. Foxbow would have been pretty banged up had he not responded with impeccable balance and agility. Sensing that he was in big trouble if he stayed here, he crossed to the back door and kicked it open, ruining the latch mechanism.
"Rrrr, it was unlocked," Kitty Saber told him.
No matter. Foxbow leaned his head outside in time to hear someone - presumeably Exxmen's vice president - saying, "That's why I hired some outside help."
"That's our cue," Foxbow commented, now extremely alert, and leapt out of the laundry truck knowing exactly what he was doing, sort of. Kitty Saber followed a few millimeters behind.
The laundry truck was at the front gate of the Salt Shaker complex. Foxbow stared out into the surrounding fenced-in fields, past the fences to the hilly country beyond, and finally did a double take when he saw what the vice president was pointing at. The V.P. pointed at a concrete brick a meter-and-a-half high, with stubby concrete legs, concrete arms, and a white crash helmet covering its perfectly normal male human head. 'I knew somebody had found out about the Salt Shaker turning people into living bricks,' Foxbow thought, 'But I didn't expect this!'
"Kitty Saber, Foxbow," the V.P. called out, "Get him!"
"Right boss," Foxbow said instinctively (even though this man wasn't The Boss), loaded up, and fired at the brick-with-arms-and-legs in the blink of an eye. The brick never even saw the arrow coming; it merely smashed into his chest and shattered.
The Vice President made for the sidelines. "You fool!" he cried to Foxbow, "Use the sonic arrows!"
'The sonic arrows?' Foxbow thought. 'Who does he think I am, the Chartreuse Arrow?!'
But the bricky guy wasn't just going to take this standing still. He picked up a nearby boulder and heaved it at the blue archer. Startled, Foxbow leapt up in the air and flipped over the rock. Foxbow became a bit more pensive memontarily when he hit the ground: organic concrete must be awfully strong, and that last maneuver was easier than he thought it'd be.
Kitty Saber was circling the brick on the other side. 'She can't strike him down at range like I can, poor girl,' Foxbow thought. 'Maybe I should give her a little firepower support. If I'd known I'd be facing this I would've brough my armor-piercing arrows; but as it is . . ."
He notched up one of his Dukes of Hazzard Specials and fired it at the ground on the side of the brick that Kitty wasn't standing near. Two meters away from Brick Man, the shaft struck dirt and went off in a fireball loud enough and hot enough to hospitalize a normal person. The brick wasn't so much as scorched.
"Well," the brick's head called out, "Your arrows don't seem to be doing much, do they?"
All right, six feet away from the blast didn't hurt him. Probably thanks to that crash helmet. What about a direct hit from one of his explosives? He had nothing to lose; he cued up a second Rambo arrow and fired directly onto the brick's rectangular concrete torso. The explosion was loud and hot, as before, and as before the only thing it did to him was leave a radial soot pattern around where it had hit.
"You know I'm no ordinary man you're fighting," the brick gloated, brushing the soot from his makeshift chest.
So that was a man he was fighting, was it? Yep, that head underneath the crash helmet and faceplate was a man's. Maybe that was his weak spot. He twanged a third explosive arrow at the brick, aimed right for his head. It hit the center of the transparent faceplate and went off, shattering nothing but the brick's vision for a fraction of a second.
"Why, I'm solid concrete!" the brick pointed out. "The only thing that could hurt me is -"
Foxbow fired a fourth exploding arrow in what he would later regard as one of the bigger mistakes in his life.
"All right, that's it!" the brick called out. He raised his right foot and stamped down on the hard-packed earth. A crack opened up, raced all the way up to Foxbow - who was having trouble keeping his balance - and opened up too wide for his feet to keep a hold of. Foxbow fell right in.
And the instant he did, the crack sealed itself back up again. Foxbow gasped, then covered his eyes, not wanting to look at what was surely his last moment on Earth. The rumbling echoed louder, and then stopped, along with all other surrounding sounds.
Foxbow took his hands away from his eyes. All he saw was darkness. "I'm dead," he said to himself. "I must be dead." He thought he heard a distant scream. "And that must be hell. I - huh?"
A few lumps of dirt fell across his face. They felt dirty.
He wasn't dead. Somehow, the tons of rock and earth crushing him from either side hadn't killed him. That scream had probably been from Kitty Saber or the brick. He felt around for his bow. He found it; it was jutting out sideways, jammed between two very large chunks of buried granite. His trusty bow had saved him from an untimely end.
He thought about digging his way out of there. He thought about the brick on the other side. He thought he'd better stay there a while until things blew over.