"...if one holds his state on the basis of mercenary arms, he will never be firm or secure" - Nicolo Machiavelli

"Maximum security and stability at minimal cost and casualty." - Sigma Intervention motto, 2900

Chapter 1: Blood and Business

May 4, 2955

4:00 p.m.

New Chicago Outer Perimeter

"So why did you decide to become a mercenary old man?", a young soldier asked a lone figure in the corner of the dropship. The recruit looked inspired. Full of hope. Something their Captain would've proud of. For the eighty-year old mercenary, he couldn't have cared less.

He grunted. "Pays the bills."

"That's it? I mean, you're not fighting to keep Earth the way it was, you know, like the way old Captain McCrea wanted it to be?"

The soldier-for-hire could tell this boy was a Lander, just by the way he spoke. Landers were an idealistic bunch, mostly sticking to the long-dead Captain McCrea's guidelines. After the Axiom's landing more than a century ago, everyone wanted to make Earth beautiful again. They succeeded, for the most part. Sure, civilization got rebuilt and the environment got restored, but those bots and the Captain's descendants made one mistake: trying to change a man from the inside. Those love-struck machines never expected a human leader to get greedy, and that mistake cost the life of McCrea's son.

"I'm not here to talk philosophy, kid. If I wanted to do that, I would've gotten a bio-implant for that too.", the Corporal replied, his voice static as a result of his helmet's speaker.

"Well, I'm just glad you're riding with us sir."

"Why's that?"

"Because you're gonna help us to kick some Scrapper butt, right?"

"As long as-"

The corporal was cut short by a violent shaking, as the dropship took several grazing hits from flak cannons. Though the ballistic rounds bounced off harmlessly against the ship's shields, the Lander soldiers were noticeably taken aback by the amount of resistance the Scrappers were giving. Despite being looked upon as little more than an organized gang, the Scrappers were more resourceful than the other factions of Earth thought. Their ability to acquire and restore war relics and manufacture the ammunition for them, coupled with their ferocity against machines made them a formidable enemy. The Landers seemed to be paying in blood and soil for underestimating the ragtag crew of bot haters, since they needed help to retake one of their lost outposts near the city perimeter. No wonder why Landers were paying mercenaries to help get the job done. The corporal never dwelled on these things for long though, and before any of the soldiers could respond, he already had his flight pack strapped onto his back.

Amid shouts of protest from his fellow passengers, he opened the side door of the dropship. The door slid open with a sharp hiss, and the corporal was met with a blackened sky, mixed with the bright orange glow of the occasional destroyed Lander air vehicle, and ripe with the staccato of explosion after explosion. Almost nonchalantly, he jumped out of the Lander vessel, intent on landing near his target. Using his hover pack almost as a rower would an oar, he guided himself towards the designated objective with small bursts of micro-gravity. Once he reached a suitable distance above the bulls-eye he shifted position so that the bottom of his feet were facing towards the ground.

The hum of the anti-gravity generator inside the Corporal's backpack increased in intensity as his flight pack strained to soften his landing. His armored boots hit the ground with a soft thud, several meters behind an oblivious flak cannon crew of four 'machine killers' who were too busy enjoying the carnage they were inflicting. Cautiously, the mercenary withdrew a small cylindrical object from his utility belt, and tossed it into the middle of the gun crew. For a few seconds, the group of rebels were consumed with utter horror before they were engulfed in a blue inferno of plasma, not even uttering a single scream as their bodies were disintegrated into a neat pile of ashes. Clean and efficient, same as always. The Corporal pressed his index finger against the built-in comm unit in his helmet to relay his progress.

"Command, anti-aircraft position eliminated. Proceeding towards the rendezvous point.", the Corporal radioed after taking a look around for any remaining Scrappers. Judging from his surroundings, this area of the city perimeter was more lightly defended than intelligence had expected. Most of the Scrapper forces were probably trying to bleed Lander troops dry by slowing their advance to a crawl in the city streets. As the corporal moved into the nearest building, he heard the buzz of an incoming response from his superiors.

"Negative, Corporal. Your new objective is to clear the way for an armored convoy heading towards the main contingent of Scrapper forces, which are holed up in buildings all along its path. Clear 'em out, or bring 'em down if necessary. Once you're done, link up with the rest of your squad and capture the Scrapper leader for memory splicing."

"Any civilians in the area sir?", the Corporal said through gritted teeth. During these kinds of operations, EVE units (which were upgraded to serve combat roles) tended to take the glory.

"If they're not dead, evacuated, or turncoat, leave 'em for the EVE teams to pick up. Your primary objective is to capture that leader before those plant-loving Lander boys do."

"Affirmative, sir.", the Corporal acknowledged before the comm line fell silent again. After making sure that the building was entirely empty, he took up position on the rooftop. The corporal activated his flight pack, and began systematically hopping from one roof to another, clearing each building of its inhabitants, block by block. Most of buildings were empty, but a few were filled with some unlucky sentries that the mercenary easily dispatched. Once the Corporal reached the row of buildings nearest to the Lander convoy, it was a very different situation. The line of armored vehicles had been caught in crossfire, and Scrapper troops rained down a storm of laser fire from all sides. Charred bodies of soldiers lay strewn about the street in a grotesque fashion, human and machine alike. The Corporal even caught sight of the signature white plating of EVE units as they gave covering fire for the wounded. One probe's head disappeared in a shower of blue sparks, most likely from a shot by a marksman.

"Elite unit. Yeah right.", the hired soldier scoffed.

While the group of bot killers were occupied, the Corporal pulled out a small grey sphere. After pressing a button, the sphere expanded. Once it started emanating a blue light, the corporal chucked it into the backdoor of the nearest building. From outside, he could hear a mechanical voice coming from the object. He wasn't sure whether it was some sick joke or not.

"Attention! This bomb contains flesh-eating nanobots! It will detonate in three...two...one...have a nice day!" a cheerful female voice replied.

The Corporal could hear screams mixed with the whirring sound of a buzz-saw through flesh. When he opened the door, several dead bodies were covered in a grey goo, and were being broken down, cell by cell. All around the convoy, buildings that once were filled with soldiers intent on murdering the Lander troops grew silent, except for the screams of the dying. The Corporal knew all too well that other mercenaries had delivered their 'packages' as well. Now all the convoy had to do was pick up the pieces. While the Lander troops advanced unopposed, the mercenary team regrouped in an eight-story building near the makeshift enemy base. Although all of the team wore helmets that hid their faces, the old mercenaryl knew he would see an expression of worry on each of them. They were running out of time, and all of them knew it. After a quick head count, they went over the plan one last time.

"Let's keep this simple and by the books people. There's about fifty elite guards in that building. I want Sanchez and Michaels to take up sniping positions in here, and pick off any patrolling guards and marksmen. I don't want any of us to end up like that probe.", said Sergeant Zidek, the squad's resident leader.

There were a few chuckles exchanged at the mention of the unfortunate EVE unit. Even the corporal cracked a smile underneath his helmet. Ever since the Landers got desperate enough to convert those blasted bots from reconnaissance to active combat operations, they started getting overconfident. Who in the right mind would take on a team of highly trained killer robots with enough firepower to level a city block? Apparently the Lander brass hadn't accounted for human tenacity. That's when they started hiring mercenaries.

"Cut the chatter! Ryker! I want you and Dregs to keep us updated on the Lander convoy's progress! Make sure our exit is ready once they get within 100 meters of the base! The rest of you, with me!", bellowed Zidek.

After each group got into position, they waited for the signal. Two heavily armored guards hefting large plasma cannons patrolled around the building, most likely the vanguard of the Scrapper army. Several lightly armored soldiers were busy setting up defenses in an attempt to make a last stand. There were probably more inside, ready to kill anyone or anything that entered. The Sergeant's voice broke the tense silence.

"Snipers, as soon as I give the signal, take out the heavies. I want everyone else to concentrate fire on the regulars. Once we breach, move fast and check your corners."

A brief pause. The calm before the storm.

"Now!", the Sergeant's command split the silence, and both snipers fired almost simultaneously. Two magnetically propelled rounds flew through the air like sharks through water, eager for blood. The rounds struck home, and embedded themselves in the foreheads of the two elite bodyguards. The rest of the Scrappers dropped dead, riddled with railgun fire. The mercenary team emerged from cover, and made sure each of their targets were killed. After planting explosives at the base of the building (to leave no evidence of their involvement) each mercenary readied the built-in hover packs in their power armor. The packs only had enough juice to propel themselves halfway up the 20-story building, so the mercenaries were going to have to fight to the top once they reached the tenth floor. A routine snatch-and-grab, hopefully.

"Dregs! Ryker! How much time?"

"Convoy's about thirty clicks from your position Sarge.", Private Dregs answered calmly. Dregs was always the more patient and reserved of the team, which made him the ideal person for technical operations.

"Bird's on its way now sir, recommend you grab that Scrapper prick ASAP.", replied Private Ryker. Unlike Dregs, Ryker was a bit short-tempered when it came to interferences with his paycheck. Still, he only scratched his itchy trigger finger when he was told to do so.

"Affirmative. Keep us updated.", replied the sergeant.

When the mercenaries reached the tenth floor, they blew open an entrance and flew through. Then all hell broke loose. One of the squad took a direct hit to his chest by an ion cannon, which left a burnt hole in place of his internal organs. Unbeknownst to the mercenaries, the Landers had sent in specialized EVE commandos in advance. Unlike the bright white of regular probes, these units were jet-black and had eyes of varying colors. They had apparently entered the building through stealth, and were now engaged in a pitched battle with the Scrapper elite bodyguards; the sudden entrance of the mercenaries now made it a three-way battle. The Corporal cursed his luck while he took cover.

"Dammit. I'm getting too old for this!", said the Corporal as he chucked one of his EMP grenades over his head. The blast deactivated some of the probes, and rendered one of the Scrappers immobile in his power suit. This only seemed to make both the commando EVEs and machine killers fight even harder.

"Death to the vile machine cretins! Stain the walls black with their oil!", yelled one of the Scrapper bodyguards.

The EVE commandos responded with their own inspiring quote in the form of robotic code, which translated to, "Remember our sister!"

"Old Man!", Zidek transmitted over the helmet comm line. The sergeant was busy using the corpse of a bodyguard as a human shield. Judging from the way the corpse's head was twisted, Zidek had likely broken the bodyguard's neck, and nearly pulled it off.

The Corporal responded to his call-sign. "Sir?"

"You and Chess go after their leader! We'll keep them occupied! He's on the top floor; don't let him escape, or I'll make you wish you were dead! Everyone else, give Old Man and Chess some covering fire!", Zidek snarled.

Both mercenaries dashed to the barely functioning elevator. Chess and the Corporal emptied their clips trying to suppress anything and anyone that wasn't a mercenary, while the elevator doors creaked shut. The two guns for hire practically threw as many grenades as they could out the door once they reached the top floor, and took out a few bodyguards by surprise. This gave them just enough time to reach the Scrapper commander, who was only minutes away from vaporizing his own brain. Chess shot the gun out of the commander's hand, and the Corporal stunned him using his wrist-mounted taser. Chess hefted the paralyzed leader over his shoulder, and nodded to his partner.

"Sarge, we got him. Let's get-", the Corporal's friend paused. Slowly, Chess looked down to where his stomach should've been, which was now occupied by a gaping hole. He fell forward, and nearly crushed the limp commander underneath him. The Corporal rolled to his side instinctively, barely dodging the second shot. He turned around, and fired his gauss rifle indiscriminately.

What he saw surprised him, to say the least. It was a jet-black EVE commando, but unlike the others, this one had energy shielding. It's eyes were glaring a menacing shade of orange, and apparently it was very, very angry. The Corporal had to roll out of the way before another ion blast scorched the spot where he was previously laying down. Another blast destroyed the Corporal's rifle, leaving him seemingly defenseless. The EVE probe hovered towards him, and beeped questioningly, as if asking for the mercenary's last words. The answer the machine received was a fist jammed into its circular abdomen. The robot's eyes became static as the Corporal activated the taser on his wrist, and the probe eventually collapsed, deactivated. The aging soldier for hire breathed a sigh of relief before lifting his dead partner off the Scrapper leader.

After hefting the leader's unconscious body onto his left shoulder, the Corporal took one last look at his fallen comrade. Despite being one of the oldest mercenaries in the group, and thus seeing many other members come and go, the death of another fellow soldier still haunted him. After whispering a short prayer for Chess, he regrouped with the rest of his team. Two more mercenaries had been lost during the leader's capture, but both the EVE commandos and Scrapper bodyguards had been annihilated. The remainder of the squad moved to the extraction point, and sat in silence as the dropship carried them back to base. The only sound they heard was the hum of the ship's engines and the deafening explosion of the HE-25 'Earth-shatter' charges that brought the former Scrapper base crashing to the ground. Once they arrived back at base, Sergeant Zidek finally said what was on all of their minds.

"Let's hope this bastard was worth it."

(Author's note: This is my first story, so any constructive reviews will be very much appreciated. Let me know what you think of the story so far!)

(All WALL-E related material belongs to Disney and Pixar)