she pulled shells off her bandoleer and stuffed them into her shotgun. She loved her job.
Seeing a pair of legs coming close, she blew his knees off, and then she shot him in the chest when he got to her level. Then she Traveled out from under the desk to the far wall, where she shot another man in the back, jumped to the other corner and had to fire several times to finally get enough lead to go through a filing cabinet to hit a fellow that thought he could hide from her. Shotgun empty, she pulled her. 45 with one hand while stepping through space, appeared behind somebody who was shouting profanities, and put a single bullet in the back of his neck. His buddy turned toward her and she shot him in the chest four times before he could even lift his pistol.
Faye paused to check her head map. There were bodies strewn everywhere. That’s what they got for not reaching for the sky like she’d told them to! Except for the crackling flames, the room was deathly quiet. Did I kill everybody already? So much for confessions. But happily, her head map told her that the fat doctor in charge was limping down the stairs. Her head map also said that whatever the oddness was below, it was getting bigger, right quick, and it wasn’t like anything she’d ever felt before. Instinct told her that if she Traveled next to that thing, there would be no coming back.
She’d deal with the doctor in a minute. It wasn’t like anybody could outrun her. Faye went over to the filing cabinet and pulled out some of the papers that they’d been trying to destroy. There was lots of writing and it seemed to be in code, which meant it must be super important, so Faye gathered up as much as she could possibly carry in both arms and Traveled away.
“What the hell are those?” Dan asked as he risked a glance around Sullivan’s shoulder.
Grey metal forms were marching out of the main building and across the hard-packed dirt of the OCI compound. These machines were similar to the one that Sullivan had met at the EGE factory, with rounded bodies and ungainly limbs, only these were slightly bigger and each one had a single glowing blue eye in the center of their rectangular heads. It reminded him of an illustration from a Popular Mechanics article about the future of warfare, only this was right now, and these things belonged to the secret police rather than the Army.
“Mechanical men,” he muttered, then he raised his voice so the rest could hear. “Take cover!”
The knights had come through the hole in the wall and used the outbuildings and parked vehicles to cover their approach, but the robots were blocking their way. The roof of the main building was on fire, and it provided enough illumination to see at least half a dozen of the things. The automatons all froze in place at the same time. A beam of light, bright as the headlamps on a car, erupted from each mechanical man’s eye, and the heads slowly began to turn side to side like a searchlight.
Toru crouched off to the side. “So you Americans have gakutensoku of your own? I was not aware of this.” Before Sullivan could respond, Toru stepped out from behind cover, held his machine gun at his hip, and fired as he ran to the side. Bullets sparked against one of the robots. Three of the blue headlights locked onto the Iron Guard and three arms rose simultaneously, returning fire just as Toru dove behind the corner of another building. “Ours are faster”-Toru shouted as a bullet punctured the wall next to his face-“and more accurate.”
The robots let loose a torrent of machine gun fire, working their flashing arms back and forth, piercing the knights’ meager cover. A bullet went through a car door and Simmons’ leg went out from under him. The Torch seemed surprised as he hit the ground and a torrent of blood spilled from the jagged exit wound. Heedless of the danger, Dianatkhah crawled to Simmons and went about trying to save his friend’s life.
“Cover the Healer!” Sullivan picked a robot and the slow thunder of his BAR began. He worked the gun across the metal body, burning just a bit of Power to make the gun heavier and more controllable. Sullivan was an artist with a machine gun and he picked different spots-legs, arms, joints, neck, the head-looking for a weakness. The light of the single eye went out just as it was able to swivel over to shoot back. Bullets ripped a line up the dirt several feet away. “The eyes are how they aim,” Sullivan shouted as he pulled back to reload. It sounded rather simple when he said it that way, but you never knew until you tried.
Off to the left, three of the blue lights went out simultaneously as Diamond used his Power to hurl debris against them. They continued shooting, but wildly, flinging bullets everywhere.
One of the blinded robots lifted its other arm. With a roar, a gout of flame rolled past, forcing Sullivan to retreat to avoid being engulfed. “Flamethrower!” The robot turned, casting a wide arc of destruction, igniting vehicles and buildings.
But not men. Their wounded Torch lifted one bloody hand from his ruined leg and extended it toward the fire, which recoiled, stopped, grew, and then was forced back against the pressurized jet. The fire climbed back into the robot’s arm and ignited the fuel stored inside.
The explosion rocked the courtyard. Fire washed over several of the other mechanical men. One of them ignited, wobbled a few steps on its duck feet before it too exploded into a cloud of shrapnel and bolts. The others must not have been packing flamethrowers, since they caught fire, but didn’t burst. A flaming robot charged Sullivan, the rounds for its machine gun popping as they cooked off inside its arm. Sullivan hit it with a wave of gravity and sent it tumbling away.
Mottl used his Ice magic and hit a few of the robots with a burst of extreme cold. The humid air froze and clung to them in a sparkling sheen. These seemed to grow sluggish and confused. Apparently, robots weren’t that resilient against temperature extremes, but before Sullivan could yell encouragement to Mottl, the Icebox caught a bullet in the stomach. On the right, the robot that had shot him lurched as Ian’s latest Summoned collided with it, took it down, and hammered its gigantic fists against the robot’s head. A line ruptured and hydraulic fluid sprayed across the Summoned’s pale flesh.
The Summoned was knocked over by the impact of an explosive shell. Another robot had clanked its way through the drifting smoke, and this one had a recoilless rifle mounted on one shoulder. As it turned his way, Sullivan shot at it; Diamond put out its eye with a brick, but it still got off a blind shot. The wall next to Sullivan turned into an expanding cloud of shrapnel and he went rolling through the dirt. The Healing spells on his body were burning, trying to keep up with the cuts and abrasions. By the time he lifted his face out of the mud, Toru had knocked the robot down and was beating it savagely with what appeared to be a bumper torn off a car. Dianatkhah was dragging Mottl away.
It was chaos.
Dan appeared next to Sullivan and shouted between bursts from his Thompson, “Times like this… can make a Mouth… feel a little inadequate!”
“So let’s go find you some bad guys made outta meat.” Sullivan slammed in a fresh mag as he got up. “I’m heading for the command center. Cover me.” He ran for it while Dan emptied the remainder of the Thompson’s drum. Sullivan slid in behind a disabled, ice-crusted robot just as a blue targeting light swept overhead. The freezing cold of the metal could be felt through the rough fabric of his coat. He waited for the light to pass, then sprang up and continued on.
A robot lumbered out from behind a burning truck. Sullivan ripped gravity to the side, and the top-heavy thing toppled onto its back, only to be immediately engulfed in magical fire. The next robot that appeared through the smoke was speared by a steel bar that Diamond had hurled across the compound, and as it stumbled back, a blast of ice struck it in the head.
Sullivan reached the mechanical man, grabbed the steel bar protruding from its chest and ripped it free in a spray of hydraulic fluid. He swung hard, and the iced-over head shattered like glass.
The robots were outmaneuvered, outfought, outwitted, and their numbers were dwindling rapidly. They were no match for the combined Powers of the knights. They shouldn’t have sent a machine to do a man’s job. Ian’s Summoned tackled the last visible mechanical man and began to pummel it into scrap. “Diamond, see to your wounded and clear this compound. I’m going in.”
As he reached the large door the robots had filed out of, Sullivan took cover to one side and risked a peek. Inside was a wide-open, pitch-black space. He went around the corner and- Wham!
Tasting blood, he hit the ground hard. The robot had been just on the other side of the entrance and it had nailed him with one big metal arm. Dazed, Sullivan gathered his Power to knock the robot aside, but the machine gun arm was already coming up. A terrible blue light scalded his eyes.
The machine gun roared. Sullivan flinched, but death didn’t come. There was a horrendous racket as metal was shredded by bullets. The blue headlight turned away enough that he could see again. Partially blinded, it took Sullivan a second to realize that the robot’s gun arm had been twisted back against its own torso. A figure, dwarfed by the immense robot, was shoving it back. “Get up, Heavy!” Toru shouted.
The Brute slammed his fist against the robot’s chest, and the huge dent indicated that he was burning his Power hard. The robot crashed back into the warehouse, and Toru immediately clambered up its side and drove one
