Lions in Blue and Silver

The story of firefights, and tacky euphemisms like EAGL.

The Mark VII Atomic-Biological-Chemical Pacification Robots were a reminder of older times. Deployed en masse in the Days of Iron by Victor Manswell, the heavily built robots were designed for three purposes – to aid in removing hazardous material threats, to pacify areas for settlement and the Iron Guard, and to assist communities in fighting off bandits, raiders, or other lawless types.

Many ABC robots were deployed to the American Deep South, where they toiled endlessly, moving contaminated dirt, destroying areas of heavy biological infestation or out of control nanite ponds with fire, and cutting a swathe through bandits, mutant animals, and resistance groups. As time went on, many broke down, many others began malfunctioning, and more than a few were hacked.

The three remaining ABC war robots were examples of what years of neglect did to such machines. Their once gleaming armored surfaces were pitted with rust and old blast damage, corroded down to nothing in more than a few places, and their movements were sluggish and full of hitches. The flamethrowers on their arms were still lit, though, and the flechette miniguns spun with a low hum as the robots stomped forward, feet coated in muck as they lifted them slowly, one after another.

Using the robots as cover, the pack of men in plastic camo parkas and American flag headbands looked thin and emaciated. They scattered as Richards' heavy GE minigun spun up and fired a line of depleted uranium slugs which carved across the damp air to strike the most damaged ABC robot in the head and upper chest. It gave a hard metallic cry, as if stricken, and fell heavily to the ground with a massive splash, trails of black smoke emerging from its smallish head.

Ahern fired several shots at a running EAGL soldier, his second and third shots hitting his target. One shot blew a hole in the man's knee, sending him tumbling, the other caught him in the upper left chest, staining his poncho with blood even as it spun him around to fall face first into the swamp. Florez, Kyle, Pellham, and Anderson all opened up then, each cleanly targeting an EAGL terrorist and taking them out, some quickly – and some not, as Pellham seemed to delight in putting no less than four slugs into his target, leaving the man a screaming, broken thrashing pile of limbs, blooding the shallow muck and water around his body.

The two remaining bots were not idle, tracking targets, turning slowly and awkwardly to change headings. The leftmost robot fired its flechette minigun in Kyle's direction, and the big man cursed as he flung himself into a roll. The tree he was using for cover was shredded, slowly toppling over with a groan. Kyle came to a stop behind another low log, spraying covering fire from his rifle, bullets panging uselessly off the armored behemoth. Both Florez and Kyle counterfired on it, but their Lancer rifles simply didn't have the firepower to get past the heavy armored skin, and it triggered its flamethrower at Florez, forcing her to relocate and cover her retreat with scattered bursts of wild fire.

The other robot took aim at Richards, clearly the biggest threat. The tree he and Ahern were behind was made of sterner stuff, however, and the flechette burst mostly embedded itself uselessly. Ahern cursed savagely as a single razor-sharp flechette tore across his arm, a line of pain and hot blood sprang forth right through the armor.

Richards swung out, firing again at the closest war robot, the stream of explosive tracers dancing up the thing's chest and onto its arm, which exploded with a loud bang and segments of shrapnel flying about. A second later, the minigun swung in a rapid, badly aimed arc, slewing across the field to impact the second war robot, but at an angle.

Ahern glanced back, frowning at the sudden inaccuracy. He saw that one of the EAGL soldiers had shot Richards, and the big man's arm was bleeding heavily, as he let go of the trigger. "Shit, can't aim like this!"

Despite his strength and size, controlling the massive minigun was clearly an effort – and no human could fire one with only one good arm.

Ahern nodded – pulling him into better cover – and then popped up, cursing as he sprayed automatic fire. He heard the drones of Chu kick off, one firing its own weapon at a terrorist, sending that one dead to the ground, but it was shot out of the sky a second later. He aimed at the war machine, firing several shots even as it burst fired its minigun toward Anderson.

The machine jerked, aim thrown off, but Anderson gave a cry of pain as he fell, rifle slipping from his fingers as he clutched his arm. Florez, nearby, cursed, and opened fire again. Chu scampered across the field, spraying shots, and skidded next to Anderson. With a grunt, he helped the bigger man stagger into the relative safety of a low, heavy outcrop of stone, covered in mosses and stains.

Saracino continued to fire calmly at long-range, killing five more terrorists, before beginning to drive shots into the ABC robot's knees, shoulder and head. One of his sniper shots hit something critical and the machine jerked suddenly, its minigun deactivating and flailing about in a circle.

Three EAGL soldiers, with SMGs and grenades, rushed them. Pellham gutshot one with his shotgun, popping up out of cover and snatching the live grenade out of the wounded man's hand. He flung it at the ABC war robot, before pausing to savagely drive the butt of his weapon into his enemy's skull.

The other two ran toward Ahern. He dropped one with a burst, but the other flung his grenade in their direction. Before he even realized what his body was doing, Ahern had flipped his Lancer rifle in his hands and swung at the grenade.

There was a clink of metal and a surprised look on the EAGL terrorist's face before the grenade flew right back him – one that vanished a second later as the device exploded. Shrapnel rained down on Ahern and Richards, but at a further distance, and their armor absorbed that. The EAGL terrorists were not so lucky, two of them caught flat-out by the explosion and sent to the ground, faces and upper bodies so much torn up meat.

The grenade Pellham had thrown at the ABC war robot did little. The robot merely stomped on it, the explosion not doing much to damage it, although it left it stumbling about a bit for its footing. It was clearly still messed up from whatever Saracino had hit, but it lifted its flamethrower gamely. The gout of burning plasma erupted out; searing the tree Pellham was hiding behind into crumbling, crackling ruin. More flames washed at the surface of the swamp itself, sending up thick clouds of scalding steam.

Pellham bolted out of cover, but took several more shots from the EAGL soldiers in better cover, coming to a rolling tumble behind another log, clutching his leg. "Shit, shit, shit! Rich, minigun that fucking thing! We ain't doing dick to it!"

Richards grimaced, pain wracking his features as he struggled to aim the heavy weapon, but a second later, more EAGL crashed through the undergrowth. Two immediately died from a single shot from Saracino, two more from a wild burst from Rachel, but the remaining four opened fire on Richards.

He was hit twice, falling down, heavily wounded. Ahern lunged for the minigun, even as the ABC war robot began to twitch, and held down the trigger desperately, bracing it as best he could.

He was immediately knocked over, the weapon flying out of his hands due to the recoil – but he saw his burst had hit the big machine in the lower chest, shattering the armor and coring it out. It crashed down, splashing filthy water into the eyes of several nearby EAGL soldiers.

Florez and Kyle took that opportunity to open fire on them, cutting them down, while the other EAGL ducked into cover. For almost twenty seconds the sounds of heavy gunfire rang from all directions – Pellham firing his pistol, trying to drive one of them out of cover.

Saracino shot one through the eye, sneering as several return shots all missed. "Aren't these guys supposed to be shouting 'Murica' and all that shit?"

One of the EAGL soldiers, a muscle-bound older man with an American flag tied around his head, spat. "Shut up, traitor!" The man's silvery hair hung down below his shoulders, as he brandished a battered but still functional heavy rifle with a rusty bayonet at its front. "Killed a lot of you fascist bastards today, gonna kill me some more!"

Saracino answered him by putting a bullet in his throat, then his eye, blowing the back of his skull all over his nearby teammates.

"Careful, there, don't lose your head." Saracino ducked behind a thick oak, evading the enraged counterfire of the fallen man's comrades, almost casually putting a shot through another one of them, turning the man's throat into a gory tunnel before the victim's head literally came right off.

Florez gave an amazingly girlish giggle at the morbid sight.

Ahern eyed the remaining soldiers, and cursed. There were still nine of them, and both Kyle and Pellham were wounded. Richards was down, and Rachel was bleeding from what looked like a bullet graze. Chu was unhurt, but both his drones were down, and he had to tend to Anderson – who was completely down, from what he could see. Ahern didn't see how they could shoot their way out of this one.

In the back of the EAGL forces, two men suddenly went down quietly. A third turned, only to have a sword slam through his eye socket. Before anyone else could act, Kai Leng had grabbed the man's weapon, spraying a full burst into the backs of the EAGL terrorists in front of him.

Several of them fell, and two more bolted out of cover, trying to shoot at Leng. Saracino dropped one a second later; the shot bisecting the man's shoulder blade in a spray of blood, a second shot blowing his head clean off. Florez, a heavily wounded Anderson, and Ahern himself – having recovered his Lancer, albeit covered in muck – all opened fire as well. Three more went down.

The last EAGL shot Kai Leng in the shoulder and leg with panicky fire, falling seconds later to an angry storm of pistol shots from Kahlee Sanders, erupting from the underbrush. Shots struck the man's face, throat, knee, and chest, sending him careening back dead.

The Chinese man wiped his sword on his enemy's pant leg, wincing in pain, before Kahlee got to his side and helped lever him up. Ahern glanced around, pausing to put a round into a still moving EAGL thug, before walking over to Chu.

"Saracino! Spotter, let us know if anyone is incoming." He barked the order even as he knelt down next to Chu. "He gonna live?"

Chu was applying makeshift bandages to Anderson's shoulder. "Yeah, but he won't be much good in a fight."

Anderson himself bore an expression of stoic pain through the port of his helmet. "I've had worse. I can always brace my rifle."

Chu chuckled. "Good luck finding it in the muck it fell into. Or getting it to fire again." He tied off the simple cloth and plastic binding, before pulling out a roll of saran wrap. Ahern arched an eyebrow, and Chu shrugged.

"They don't exactly make a swamp first aid kit. Figured it would keep it dry until we can get somewhere for real first aid, at least."

Ahern chuckled. "Good thinking. Fucking EAGL assholes tore us a good one." He stood, and glanced around. Everyone was up and moving – even Richards, although he was bleeding in more than one location. "We need to get moving as soon as we can."

Sanders took a deep breath. "Kai took a shot in the leg, and he was already dealing with a crack in his femur from the crash."

Ahern gave the man a cool look. "Can you keep up?"

Leng merely nodded. "It's keep up or die, no?"

Pellham groaned, grimacing. "Fuck that. No offense, Captain, but we try this bullshit about one speed and we'll be easy pickings. We are all hurt now, and the important thing is getting the fuck out of this goddamned exercise alive, ain't it?"

Ahern gritted his teeth. "Yes, it is. This is why we have to move quickly. The entire fucking swamp is probably teeming with those EAGL retards and their fucking war robots that they hacked. If we were healthy, with our normal gear, and not soaking in radiation every second, we'd slaughter the fuckers by the hundred – as it is, we barely survived a patrol."

Saracino walked up, sniffing as he stepped over corpses, pausing every so often to check his handiwork. "This is no patrol, Ahernia. It's four war robots, and there were fifteen of them or more. This is probably the heaviest hitters they had – some of them had modern weapons, not cheap AR-15 knockoffs." He kicked at an older model Spearman rifle, the direct predecessor to the Lancer.

Pellham spat. "If that's the hardest they can roll and they didn't even kill one of us, I still say bring it the fuck on – better that than leaving someone behind. I ain't rolling like that – not even for that asshole Leng."

Leng sighed. "Pity the situation is not reversed. I'd leave you to die in a heartbeat."

Pellham only grinned. "This is why I'm draggin' you along, asshole. Watch you suffer."

Saracino suddenly smiled. "Well, I can get behind that kind of thing. I'm unhurt; between me and Ms. Sanders we can drag him along, surely." He glanced around the clearing. "We need to move now, though, that tree the one robot set on fire is sending up smoke anyone nearby can see, and the firefight wasn't exactly quiet."

Chu nodded, glancing at Ahern, who sighed heavily. "Fine. Pel, Kyle, help Richards. Florez, Chu, help Anderson. I'll help Sanders with Leng – Saracino, we need your eyes and for you to be point."

Saracino only smiled coolly. "Ooh, do I get promoted too?"

Kyle sighed tiredly as he levered Richards up, wincing against his own wounds. "No one would promote you, jackass." He paused, frowning at himself. "…I cursed."

Ahern burst out laughing at the perplexed expression on his face.