1120

 

Siskin 1’s blip progressed southwards, following the river. The helo steered clear from the L-shaped blocks flanking it, despite the absence of red blips. 

 

Avoid further surprises. Get into position directly west of Delta Three, then cut through the district at best speed.

 

Measures to prevent death by a thousand cuts.

 

Input Delta Three’s coordinate. The Tactical Map displayed the telecom building and the surrounding street and tenements, all teeming with Sangvis. Among them, only the Jaegers on the roofs and behind the windows on the floors below could reach Siskin 1. They were of little concern. The roofs were exposed, and the windows provided poor angles on the passing helo.

 

The real peril laid concealed behind the antenna mast on Delta Three. Ample cover with unobstructed view over the lower roof terrace. 

 

FMG-9 was on that terrace, waiting to receive fresh dummies and ammunition from Siskin 1 when she met her demise. She, and her two dummies, wholly exposed to the concealed Jaegers. Her body was sprawled on the roof, a feast for vultures, if they had an appetite for artificial flesh and blood. Her end must be sudden, like flickering candlelight buffeted by a sudden gale. No chance to react, no warning anything was amiss. One moment, eyes seeking for the distant shimmering, ears opened for that unmistakable chopping in the wind. The next, nothing. 

 

The Ringleader’s name is Hunter. Her speciality was written in her name. A tracker, a pursuer…

 

A trapper. 

 

Minions lying dormant, nestled among the corpses left in AR-15’s wake. Hunter knew M4 was coming and had prepared the battleground accordingly.

 

I hadn’t anticipated the trap. 

 

I had been woefully unprepared. 

 

Knives in the stumps. False limbs trembled, fingers contorted. Those which were gone...returned once more. Cuts in the false skin, exposing the steel and polymer beneath. The thermos cap laid crumpled on the left edge of the Tactical Map. 

 

Let the throat endure a little more.

 

416 and MG5 were having a silent conversation. The frowns, curt nods, 416’s flushed cheeks and MG5’s dismissive wave illuminated the subject of their discussion. At the edge of the feed, G11 slowly backed away from the duo. Ingram, seeing this, retched in laughter. Sten smacked her forehead in response. 

 

BAR kept her weapon trained at the stairway exit, though she paid it scarce attention. Hunched posture, weight shifting from one leg to another. Sturmgewehr, beside her, shot her a dirty look. 

 

M4, Papasha and Sudaev exited their room. The two submachine-gunners hurriedly rejoined Ingram and Sten, while M4 pressed on her temple and delivered her silent orders. In one of the perimeter rooms, SVD spoke to SV-98 briefly. They exchanged nods and dismounted their rifles. SV-98 tapped on Nagant’s shoulder, and the trio exited the chamber. 

 

Inhaled. Exhaled. Tapped the headset. “Command to M4.”

 

M4 froze. The T-Dolls directed their attention towards her. 

 

“Siskin 1 will arrive in five minutes. Be advised, you will be fired upon by the Jaegers as you withdraw.”

 

“Understood, Commander,” M4 replied. “We will have a brief window of concealment once we activate the charges. Should be enough to get SVD, BAR and I in position to cover our retreat.”

 

“The Jaegers are entrenched behind cover, while your position is exposed.”

 

M4 fell silent. After a moment of consideration, she spoke, “We still have the ammunition aboard Siskin 1, don’t we? Sop II can use the smoke grenades to conceal our withdrawal.”

 

“Helos generate high winds, M4.”

 

Another moment of silence, briefer than the last. “Sop II can use my magazines and Ms. 416’s grenades,” M4 stated. “If I ignite the charges, I should be able to distract the Jaegers. This should draw attention away from Sop II’s insertion at their rear. Then…”

 

“Are you certain Sop II can handle this task? The number of Jaegers on that ledge is unknown.” 

 

“Sop II will not be fighting out in the open. There’s plenty of cover. She can do this!” M4 insisted. 

 

“Siskin 1 to Command, ETA one minute,” Nicholai chimed. The blue blip had turned a right angle towards Delta Three.

 

“Yilmaz,” Commander Washington spoke from across the Tactical Map. “The Sangvis are massing at the foot of the hill. Jaegers and Guards, with Rippers and Vespids close behind. Dinergates and Scouts on the way.”

 

A sigh exhaled. Finger and thumb flicking outwards, zooming Team M4A1’s feed towards the Team Leader.

 

“M4, look at your micro-drone, in the lens.” 

 

“...Commander?” M4 replied, sounding confused. Hesitantly, she looked towards the drone.

 

“M4, do you vouch for Sop II?” 

 

“Y-yes!” Her dark brown eyes hardened. “Yes, I do! I know she can do this!” 

 

“You will return to base camp with no further casualties. Do I have your word?”

 

“Yes!” Firm, insistent, free of doubt.

 

Inhaled. Exhaled.

 

“Command to All. I’m ceding control over Siskin 1, Team M4A1, Team HK416 and Team SVD to M4A1.”

 

“Commander?” M4 blinked. 

 

“The Sangvis are massing around the perimeter of our base camp. Jaegers and Guards. Dinergates, Scouts, Vespids and Rippers to follow. If you cannot do as you have promised, I will have to divide my attention between two fronts.”

 

She opened, then closed her mouth and pursed her lips. She inhaled, then replied firmly, “I will do my best.”

 

“Again, you will return to base camp with no further casualties. Do I have your word?”

 

“Yes!” she uttered sharply. “You have my word!” 

 

Inhaled. Exhaled. 

 

Muzzle flashes on MG4’s feed. Siskin 1’s blip cut through the L-shaped block directly west of Delta Three.

 

“Detonate the basement charges once you cleared Delta Three. The resultant dust cover should allow for a safe exodus out of the East District.”

 

M4 nodded on her feed. “Understood, Commander.”

 

“Command out.” 

 

M4 delivered her silent orders. The black T-Doll in Siskin 1’s cabin melted away from the feed. 

 

Tapped on the keypad. Delta Three disappeared from view, replaced by base camp environs. 

 

Red blips massing at the perimeter. Six distinct clusters took on block-like formations; two rows of Guards in front, one row of Jaegers at the back. Vespids and Rippers interspersed between them. Dinergates and Scouts were not counted among their number; they were still approximately two minutes away.

 

A hill at their rear. 

 

Dust shrouded the elevator lobby; Papasha and Sudaev had detonated their charges. Siskin 1 had swung around the antenna mast, its cabin tilted. Rippers burst through the stairway. Muzzle flashes from Sturmgewehr and FAL. SVD, Papasha, BAR and M4 disappeared into the dust cloud. 

 

A blur on Siskin 1’s feed, an explosion at the foot of the antenna mast. Sop II had announced her descent. 

 

Dinergates and Scouts had arrived. The block formations began their ascent. 

 

“Just like in the simulations, Cano.” Washington tapped on his tablet. “Aim for the viewing port, prioritise on those Jaegers. Ceno, assist your sister. CZ2000, support Commander Yilmaz’s people. Type 80, watch those Dinergates and Scouts. Yes, I know the Guards are moving first. Still leave your one dummy on Buzzard 1.”

 

A hill to the east, at their rear. The UAVs can’t pick up low density, loose formations. 

 

“Hey, Cetin!” Skorpion exclaimed. She waved towards the micro-drone. CZ2000 glanced at the submachine-gunner as she poked her rifle through the port under the sandbags. 

 

“Skorpion to Command. The Guards and Jaegers are moving towards us. Thought you should know.” 

 

The block formations gradually entered M14’s range. The Dinergates and Scouts began their ascent. Lev was still, his eyes trained on the sight.

 

“Command to Team Skorpion and Aux Guards. M14, target the Guard-Jaeger formation. Exposed Jaegers are your priority targets. Aux Guards, clear the Dinergates. FNC and Tiss, you are on Scouts. Skorpion and MP40, keep the foxholes clear.”

 

Hunter. Hunting tactics.

 

“Team Skorpion to Command! Lev said ‘aye’!” 

 

Dormant minions. Ambush. 

 

“Command to Buzzard 1.” 

 

Entrapment, pursuit, ambush...

 

“Prepare for lift-off. Ceno, Cano, Type 80, you know what to do.”

 

Skorpion drew her incendiary grenade.

 

Hunter and Executioner. Hawk and hound.

 

“Skorpion, duck!” 

 

Jaeger fire singed her hair. 

 

“She almost took my head off!” she yawped.

 

“Do not leave the foxhole and do not get over the sandbags. MP40, the order applies to you too.” 

 

“Ja, Kommandant!” MP40 replied calmly. 

 

“Command to Buzzard 1, flank those Jaegers.”

 

Hill at their rear. Hawk and hound. Run the prey out of its burrow. The skies aren’t safe. UAVs can’t pick up low density, loose formations. 

 

“Washington, call off Buzzard 1.” 

 

“Command to Buzzard 1, order rescinded,” Washington urged immediately. “Support our forces on the ground. Command to Team Carcano, dummies on Buzzard 1 will take on the same priority as their mainframe units. Make sure nothing gets past those MGs.” 

 

He nodded and locked his gaze with the false eyes. Frowning, he folded his arms. “I’m giving you one minute to convince me against lifting the lockdown on our forces.” 

 

“Hunter is using the ‘Hawk and Hound’ strategy.”

 

Washington said nothing. 

 

“She seeks to run our forces out of their sanctuary, to compel them to seek safety in positions of vulnerability.”

 

“You have just told me what we already knew,” Washington replied, dissatisfied. He unfolded his arm and tapped his headset. 

 

“All our forces, helos included.”

 

Washington lowered his arm. “Continue,” he uttered. 

 

Tapped on the holographic hill facing the Sangvis rear. “Hunter has hidden more Jaegers here to catch our helos in their manoeuvre.”

 

“If that were true, our UAVs would have detected them,” Washington replied, sceptically. 

 

“The UAVs cannot detect low density, loose formation automatically.”

 

“The number of Jaegers needed to ground our helos will make them visible to our UAVs,” he argued calmly. 

 

“Not if they are dormant, like in Delta Three.”

 

Forests nestled in between hills, interrupting the stretch of plains. 

 

“Hunter may have spent the last few hours trickling handfuls after handfuls of Jaegers to the East Hill, avoiding detection. She may even have them…” false finger glided, then stopped on the blotches to the north, below the hill, “...leapfrog between these forests to more efficiently move them. Once they arrived...” false finger turned towards the hill, “...here, they entered dormancy, allowing them to gather at sufficient numbers under our noses.”

 

“This sounds like a paranoid conjecture but…” he sighed and shook his head. “...fine. I’ll see what I can do.” He pulled up his sleeve, examined his watch, then smirked. “You have passed the one minute mark, by the way.”

 

“Siskin 1 to Command,” the headset sounded. MG4’s feed showed a plume of dust and smoke surrounding the helo’s cabin. “We have successfully exfiltrated from the AO.” 

 

“Command to Siskin 1, any further casualties?”

 

“BAR’s clipped but she’s otherwise fine,” Nicholai replied. 

 

BAR cried at the far corner of the feed. 

 

“She did lose her gun, though,” the pilot added. 

 

Ingram hacked and coughed out a chuckle. Sten smacked her forehead again. Sturmgewehr, frowning deeply, cut away the machine-gunner’s right sleeve, put down the scissors and showed her hand to Sten. Sten nodded and handed her an aerosol can. The riflewoman visibly winced as she popped open its cap and dressed BAR’s punctured shoulder in foam.

“The black one did good,” Nicholai then added. 

 

The aforementioned T-Doll wrapped her arms around M4 and nuzzled up to her. M4 patted M4 Sopmod II’s back and spoke softly, all the while glancing at 416, who was watching them critically. M4’s stoic facade was visibly cracking.

 

“Crazy, but good.” 

 

“Team Skorpion to Command!” Skorpion kicked aside a perforated Dinergate and reloaded her firearm. The Dinergate landed by CZ2000’s ankle, eliciting a scowl from her. “The first rows of Guards are advancing!”

 

The five red lines lurched forward. Rippers and Vespids quickly filled the gaps the Forward Guards opened. Some of the Rippers were moving ahead of them.

 

“Command to Team Skorpion and Dayguards. M14, prioritise the advancing Forward Guards. Target viewports and any exposed body part. Guardsmen, staggered fire, cut down any exposed Sangvis as quickly as possible, then concentrate your fire on those Guards. Targets of opportunity, any exposed Sangvis units behind the Forward Guards. Tiss and FNC, provide support.”

 

Lev swivelled his machine gun and fired at the first exposed target he acquired. CZ2000 shot at any Ripper he had missed. Skorpion glanced at them for a moment, then spoke, “Team Skorpion to Command! We are doing our best! What about those Jaegers at the back? They are keeping me and MP40 down!”

 

Type 80’s thundering fire struck one of the Forward Guard formations. One shield fell, three more buckled. Washington nodded, then returned his attention to his tablet. 

 

“Command to Team Skorpion. Still devising a solution. Out. Command to Siskin 1. ETA?”

 

“Siskin 1 to Command. Ten minutes.”

 

“You are planning to land Team M4A1, Team SVD and Team HK416 on the East Hill, aren’t you?” Lungs froze. Washington had interjected. 

 

Inhaled. Exhaled. Breathed. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“I need confirmation. There is a delay between the minions’ reactivation and entering active combat, isn’t there?”

​

Delta Three, telecoms building. 

 

One second. 

 

Sten and Sturmgewehr froze; the corpses around them stirred. They swung their guns and opened fire. 

 

Three seconds.

 

Nagant shot a Ripper at the far corner of the feed. Sten was alarmed; more Rippers were rising around them. 

 

Five seconds, Nagant, Sturmgewehr and Sten engaged all awakening Sangvis in their room. Some Sangvis had gotten on their feet and were taking aim. 

 

Ten seconds.

 

A Ripper broke through the door and grappled Sturmgewehr. 

​

“Approximately five seconds of delay.”

 

“Any spare PKPs? AK-15s?”

 

“All weapons are with their users.”

 

“What about this one?” Washington tapped on the assault rifle propped against the left side of the Tactical Map. 

 

Skorpion fired upon a Ripper as soon as she cleared the sandbags. She then side-stepped the falling Sangvis submachine-gunner. 

 

Washington cracked a grin as he picked up the assault rifle. “I’m not planning on having Fleur return a widow, Yilmaz.” He tapped on his headset, his gaze still fixed upon the false eyes. “Command to Buzzard 2. Andino! Get to the Command Tent on the double!” 

 

Skorpion shot the Ripper on CZ2000’s flank. CZ2000 scowled at Skorpion as she slid her rifle back into its port.

 

Dancing sunlight interrupted the Tactical Map’s even glow. Washington shoved the AK-15 into Andino’s chest. He then tapped on his headset again. “Command to Team Carcano, Buzzard 1 and Andino. Buzzard 1, disengage and return to the Command Tent. Andino, you take this gun, board Buzzard 1 and take the right hatch. Cano, Ceno, Type 80, move your dummies to the left hatch.” 

 

He then said unto Andino. “I hope you kept up with your range sessions. You are going to magdump into those Jaegers.” 

 

“You are going to kill my shoulder, Nivy,” Andino, his expression stony, replied laconically. He sighed, then added. “I will need more ammo.” 

 

“Yilmaz?”

 

“Truck behind me.” 

 

Chopping in the wind. Dried leaves and grass blades snapped against the Tactical Map. Andino nodded and hurriedly departed towards the buffeting wind. 

 

CZ2000 had removed her gun from its port. She joined her fire with Skorpion’s, aiding her efforts to keep the Rippers at bay. Lev kept his eyes on the sights, and his trigger pulled. 

 

“Buzzard 1, after Andino gets on board, head north, then swing around to the Sangvis’ rear. I want Andino facing those Jaegers,” Washington commanded.

 

He intended to lure out and engage the hidden Sangvis on the opposite hill. 

 

“Type 80, Cano, your dummies will engage the hidden Sangvis on the East Hill as soon as they reveal themselves. Ceno, you spot for your sister.” 

 

The forward Guards were halfway between the foxholes and the Sangvis rear formation. Another wave of Rippers surged ahead of the advancing phalanx. 

 

The tent’s flap thrashed about with waning intensity. Buzzard 1 had begun its ascent. 

 

The vanguard Rippers’ blips continued to wink out. The forward phalanx advanced steadily, undaunted by Type 80s’ relentless fire. The snipers and the machine-gunners had managed to cull their numbers, from fifty to twenty-five or thirty per formation. The Vespids and Rippers behind them barely suffered losses; the Guards closed their ranks too quickly for the snipers to inflict further casualties.

 

The Guard-Jaeger formation at their rear remained unmolested. 

 

Buzzard 1 arrived at the flank of the northernmost Guard-Jaeger formation. Ten seconds...twenty...their numbers remained static. 

 

Red clusters erupted and subsequently winked out on the East Hill. More clusters emerged further south along the hill’s slope. 

 

“Command to Buzzard 1!” Washington’s gaze locked onto the false eyes. He nodded. “Climb altitude! Andino! Burst fire! Command to Team Carcano, how many Jaegers again?”

 

The red clusters’ rate of emergence overwhelmed Type 80’s and Carcano’s ability to cull them. 

 

“M4 to Command.” Siskin 1 had entered the AO, directly north of the Guard-Jaeger formation. “ETA two minutes.”

 

“Command to M4, do you see these block formations surrounding our base camp?”

 

“M4 to Command, I see them.” 

 

“Engage them whilst the Jaegers on the East Hill remain occupied.”

 

Two minutes. Buzzard 2 decimated one-third of the East Hill Jaegers. The survivors dispersed and hurriedly ascended the slope. 

 

Siskin 1 arrived behind the northernmost Guard-Jaeger formation. 416 leaned over MG4 and launched her grenade. BAR and G11 covered their ears as MG4’s casings rattled about in the cabin. Ingram coughed and cackled while Sten grimaced.

 

Sunlight leaked from the hatch behind M4. SVD poked her rifle out of the crack and fired upon the Jaegers on the Eastern Hill. Nagant hurried to her side, tore open the hatch and started calling targets. 

 

The northernmost block of Guards and Jaegers vanished from the Tactical Map. Siskin 1’s blip progressed towards the next formation. 

 

“Sop II! No!” M4 cried out in alarm. MG4’s lost her aim, 416 barely caught her rifle’s sling. The black T-Doll had leapt off Siskin 1. 

 

Red blips winked out, the survivors scattered. Sop II had fired her grenade at them during her descent. She landed within the dust and debris. Tracer fire. Three Guard blips vanished.

 

Streaks of light struck the reeling Jaegers and Guards. They came from the next block, all intended for Sop II. “Siskin 1!” M4 cried in panic. “Get to the next Guard-Jaeger formation! Hurry!”

 

“Team Skorpion to Command!” shouted Skorpion excitedly. She was pointing towards Sop II. “I saw something black fall out of Nicholai’s helo! What’s going on?”

 

“Command to Team Skorpion. That is Sop II.”

 

“What?” Skorpion exclaimed her shock. “She’s out in the open! We got to help her!”

 

The third cluster of red blips evaporated from the Tactical Map. Siskin 1 had engaged the next block of Sangvis. 

 

The vanguard Rippers were two hundred meters away from the foxholes. The forward Guards, three hundred meters. 

 

“Stay with your targets. The north is clear of Jaegers.”

 

“What? We are clear?” The Rippers advancing towards the northern line vanished in clusters. “Tell us earlier! MP40! We are clear to burninate them!”

 

“MP40 to Skorpion. Herr Kommandant said ‘north’ only.”

 

Buzzard 1 peeled away from the East Hill, having eliminated all its targets. Its blip glided towards the fifth Guard-Jaeger formation.

 

Sop II, finished with her current opponents, darted towards the fourth Guard-Jaeger formation. Streaks of light on MG4’s feed, issued from the said formation. They struck the black blur below, slowing her charge. Sop II’s blip remained on the Tactical Map.

 

“M4 to Sop II!” M4 shouted in panic. “Disengage from combat! Sop II!”

 

“I’m okay!” Sop II replied with a mirthful giggle. “I have a shield!”

 

“Disengage, Sop II! That shield can’t...!!”

 

The forward Guards suddenly stumbled forward. Smoke rose from their backs; the Vespids had turned on them. They, in turn, were set upon by the accompanying Rippers.

 

Sop II reached the next Guard-Jaeger formation without issue; they had already turned their guns on each other. 

 

Red blips dissipated rapidly from the Tactical Map. 

​

​

​

1210

​

Chopping vortices dispersed stinging gunsmoke. Dried blades slashed the cheeks. A black figure made her awkward ascend towards the base camp, with swift yet ungainly gait.

 

Landing gears mulched the grass. The back hatch expelled battered passengers. Pierre and David, bearing stretchers, hurried past M4. The T-Doll stopped three paces away and saluted. 

 

“Commander,” she started. “I’m sorry I returned with another casualty.”

 

BAR, clutching her wounded shoulder, ambled past. 

 

“She survived. This is enough.”

 

M4 didn’t smile. 

 

A sigh exhaled. “I made this decision. I am at fault.” 

 

“M4!” The black figure waved enthusiastically. “M4!” Her hobbling jog broke into a clumsy sprint. At the final stretch, she dropped the warped shield and pounced upon M4. “M4!” 

 

M4 grimaced with discomfort. Her dark brown eyes glimmered with desperation. The black doll had tightened her embrace around her neck. “I did good, right? Right?” The black doll pressed her pale cheek against M4’s. Rubbing against M4, she demanded exuberantly, “Praise me!” 

 

“Sop II,” M4 squeaked. “Stop. Not in front of the Commander.” 

 

Sop II’s ruby eyes gleamed. 

 

“He’s our Commander?” she exclaimed as she released M4. “M4 Sopmod II!” She saluted, her rigid posture belied her giddiness. Her canines peeked prominently behind her child-like grin. “I thought I was going to have to look for you, just like with all the previous Commanders!” 

 

“Ingram!”

​

“Erkan,...”

 

“What did you do this time?” 

 

“...you look like you swam in blood!”

​

Skorpion followed Sudaev, Pierre and David out of Siskin 1. Pierre and David were bearing Ingram on a stretcher. “I’m just doing my job, I swear!” 

 

“Hey, Cetin. Hey…Sorry. I…”

 

“OW!”

 

The false eyes blinked.

 

“...I f-...”

​

“Idiot Ingram!” 

 

Blinked. Inhaled. Exhaled.

 

Sudaev had cried shrilly. She gave Ingram another thwack. Ingram winced. “OW! Stop that! I just got away from Sten!” 

 

“You mean we got you away from Sten,” Pierre chided, rolling his blue eyes. 

 

Another loud smack. Another sharp cry of pain.

 

“Sudaev!” Papasha hurried towards them. “Stop! You are injuring yourself more!” she said as she clutched Sudaev’s raised arm.

 

“I am fine, Sestra!” Sudaev replied. She gestured at her right rib. “It’s just a graze wound! Besides!” She directed her glare towards the wincing Ingram. “I should smack her three more times! I had to hear her cackle and see her shot the entire time I was wiring the detonators!” Another smack. Ingram yelped. “It was distracting!” Sudaev declared.

 

The false leg whined. 

 

“Commander? Hey, Commander!” Sop II sounded deflated.

 

“Hey, Pops.”

​

“Erkan, you look like you swam in blood!”

​

Ingram coughed and cracked an irreverent smirk. She was in grave condition. Sealing foams on her chest. The soaked bandage on her midriff emanated an acrid stench. Multiple burn wounds, one eye dead in its socket...

 

She tucked her left elbow beneath herself. Her right arm groaned and bent unnaturally. Her torso trembled, her left arm gave way. She fell back onto the stretcher. With a little grumble, she clenched her fist and shoved it forward. “Come on.”

 

“Hey, Cetin. Hey…”

​

“I did good, and you know it.”

 

Muscles tensed. Lips arched downwards. 

 

“What, precisely, did you do?”

 

“I protected Sudaev, of course!” Ingram shook her fist. “Come on.” 

 

“You lied!” Sudaev smacked her forehead again, eliciting another anguished yelp. “You threw all my grenades at those Rippers and then charged at them!” Another loud thwack, another yelp. “I told you about the Vespids, and you still kept stabbing!”

​

Pulse quickened, mood soured. Raised the true arm. Coiled the middle finger, nestled it under the thumb. 

 

Skorpion winced empathetically. “OWW!” Ingram emitted a sharp cry. 

 

Tucked the true arm behind the waist. The finger throbbed painfully; Ingram’s skin barely cushioned the shock. 

 

“Commander! Don’t ignore me!” Sop II tugged at the false arm. “Jeez, why did you choose such a weak arm, Commander?” she commented as she wrung the limb. “I can get you a stronger one, like mine!” She pulled up her left sleeve, to reveal a clawed plated arm underneath. Her illusionary ears peaked, her imaginary tail wagged furiously. “Maybe something better than mine! I’m spoiled for choices!” 

 

“You are not salvaging those bodies, Sop II,” M4 stated sternly. Sop II whined as she released the false arm. M4, knitting her brow, frowned. 

 

Peeled the false arm from Sop II’s slackened grip. 

 

“How does she look?” Query directed at Pierre. He glanced at Ingram and shrugged. “Primary power core’s leaking, auxiliary’s kaput, power connection to her hindquarters severed, only one working heat exchanger, overstressed coolant pump...” He pointed at Ingram’s foam-sealed abdomen. “Ruptured bioreactor...”

 

He glared at Ingram. “Corrosion could have been worse, considering she did eat something after sustaining the battle damage. She added pressure to the bioreactor! She’s lucky the coolant diluted the acid!” 

 

“I was hungry!” Ingram insisted. 

 

“You shut up!” Skorpion chided. She then asked Pierre, “Can you fix her?” 

 

“Fix her?” the tech foreman scoffed. “The body’s wrecked! We are going to transfer her neural cloud into another body.” 

 

“What?” Ingram broke into a coughing fit. After regaining her breath, she cried, distressed, “What about my scars? It took me two years to get all of these!”

 

“Should have thought of that before you go charging without smokes or ammo!” Skorpion scolded. 

 

“Yeah!” Sudaev nodded furiously. Ingram yelped and grimaced; Sudaev had smacked her again. “Should have thought of that! I had a mag, you know!” 

 

“At least transfer the scars…” Ingram pleaded.

 

The true finger coiled and meted out another thwack. 

 

“Ow!” Ingram winced. “Come on!” 

 

The aching appendage coiled again.

 

“Stop!” Ingram shielded her forehead and cowered. “Stop! Time out!”

 

Skorpion, Papasha and Sudaev gawked wide-eyed.

 

The gentle breeze was laden with acrid gunsmoke and chemicals.

 

The true arm lowered. “Follow Pierre’s instructions. No complaints.” 

 

Ingram looked aside and pouted. “Yes, Pops…” she sulked. 

 

“Off we go,” Pierre grunted. His arms tensed as he lifted the stretcher. 

 

“By the way! Oi! Sop II!” Ingram said suddenly. Sop II perked like a called hound. Ingram was grinning, having regained her lost irreverence. “Don’t forget, yeah! Tell me all about how you tear Hunter a new one and rescue AR-15 when I get back!” 

 

“Will do!” Sop II held out a thumbs up. “I’ll be marching right into City Hall and tear off Hunter’s arm!” 

 

“City Hall?” Skorpion folded her arms and cocked her head. “You know where she is already? Actually…” she then closed her eye, pressed her fingertips on her forehead and showed out her right palm, “Ingram said ‘tear Hunter a new one and rescue AR-15’. Are you saying Hunter’s got AR-15?”

 

M4’s frowning lips trembled. Her brows were still knitted. 

 

“Explain.”

 

Sop II raised her hand. She gave it a slight shake as she began to speak, “I can…” 

 

“Hunter’s holding AR-15 hostage.” 

 

Sop II closed her mouth and slowly lowered her hand. 

 

“Hunter contacted M4A1 earlier, on our way back.” 416 glared at M4. “She claimed to have AR-15 in her custody and had demanded M4A1’s surrender.”

 

“M4 was about to come to that!” Sop II half-shouted, offended. 

 

416 folded her arms. “Then get to it, M4 Sopmod II,” she sneered. 

​

“That is enough.” 

 

FAL peeked from behind Buzzard 1’s hatch. Washington, among his men and dolls, and with his hands on MG4’s shoulders, redirected his attention towards us. Tiss, M14 and Lev froze in their foxholes. SVD, SV-98 and Nagant looked on, armed and with drinks hanging in their grips.

 

“All wounded, remain aboard Buzzard 1.”

 

Retrieved the command tablet from its pouch, tapped in the coordinates for Beta One. 

 

“The rest,...”  

 

No red blips on the screen. 

 

What was Hunter scheming?

 

“...gather for briefing.”