The detective held the firearm in both hands for a moment, looking at it with disgust like she had been handed a dead snake. She glanced up just as Lobo handed her some ammunition. Instinctively, she started to load the rifle.
Outside, the hulking shell that Tarov occupied turned to one of the Rubik assassins on his right.
“This is taking too long,” he said. “If they were going to surrender, they would have done it by now.”
The bodyshell he spoke to cackled in delight. It was Lynch’s voice.
The police sergeant approached from behind. Her expression was nervous as Tarov met her eyes.
“Look, I’ve gotta get my people outta here before any killing starts,” she said. Her tone was delicate, like she addressed a feral lion. “If you want us to keep doing our job, we can’t have any part of this.”
“I understand, sergeant,” Tarov said, turning away to stare back at the Fog house. He dismissed her with a wave. “Your job here is done.”
She waited for a moment, half expecting him to change his mind. When he didn’t she rounded her officers up and led them away from the scene.
Tarov frowned at the Fog house for another minute or two. Then he shouted to the bodyshells around him, “They’ve had their chance. Go get ‘em!”
Standoff
“What the hell have you gotten me into?” Lobo asked from Beth’s right. He was back to peeking out the window with Beth when they saw the six smaller bodyshells spring into action.
The colorful optical lights glowed up the lawn as their owners bolted toward the house. Beth could hear the sound of rapid thudding over the dead turf as well as the mechanical groaning of the one dozen hip joints moving with the speed of engine pistons.
Beth barely had time to breathe before a gunshot broke through the night. A bit of the house’s cheap siding exploded as the bullet hit the wall. Wood splinters flew past the window where Beth and Lobo stood. Another shot rang out and the glass broke. Beth ducked down low, but managed to see the bodyshell with yellow lights shooting at them.
“What happened to your aim, Wolfgang?” Beth heard one of the other assassins taunt the shooter. It was the one who called herself Jerri.
“Just warming up,” the yellow-lit bodyshell replied.
More gunshots cracked through the atmosphere, but Beth and Lobo had already moved away from the window. A couple of the rounds punched through the flimsy outer wall, but they all flew up towards the ceiling. Wolfgang couldn’t hit them from his ground-level angle.
Beth turned to Lobo, who breathed heavily and muttering to himself. He held his gun close to his cheek, clutching onto the grip with both hands.
“You don’t have to do this, Lobo,” she told him, her voice trembling. “This isn’t your fight.”
“I’m not turning tail,” Lobo said. He tried to peek out the window again but another bullet made him reconsider. Despite the fear causing tremors in his muscles, his eyes were fierce. “Simon never turned tail on me.”
“I told you: Lobo’s good people,” the I.I. said in Beth’s mind.
A sudden staccato of gunfire erupted — this time from within the house. More shots joined the cacophony of explosions as the burnouts and junkies fired at the incoming bodyshells. They two groups exchanged fire while four of the Rubik assassins climbed onto the porch. The largest of them started slamming into the front door of the Fog house, bowing the flimsy piece of wood with each collision. One with green optical lights and a cyberblade katana on its back started to scale the outside walls. Its bodyshell must have been outfitted with barbed climbing boots, standard issue for I.I. cat burglars and self-proclaimed ninjas.
Beth managed to look out the broken window without being seen before ducking down quickly. She managed to spot another gun-wielding bodyshell standing beside Wolfgang and aiming its weapon up at the top second floor. It was covered in red glowing lights, and when it opened fire, Beth could tell its gun was fully automatic. The walls splintered as the bullets ripped through the siding. Screams and grunts could be heard coming from the room next door.
“Careful, Nick,” Wolfgang shouted at the red shell, placing an empty mechanical hand on his compatriot’s weapon. “You could hit Maru.”
“After those sons o’ bitches smashed our shell in the tube, I could care less,” Nick replied in his drawl. “So long as I kill the detective.”
Beth heard the big bodyshell on the porch finally break through the front door with a roar. She could feel the vibrations through the floor as the crumpled door flew into the foyer and the heavy robotic attackers pushed their way inside.
Terrible shrieks came from Lobo’s people who held the ground floor, then were cut short in a grotesque gurgle. The thudding of heavy steps split apart and rushed into the different rooms downstairs. Junkies screamed while gunshots, metal-on-flesh impacts, and the slicing of blades bled up through the floor for the panicked detective to hear. She swung her weapon around in terrified anticipation while she listened to the fight below. She was almost too distracted by the sounds underneath her to hear the footsteps coming from above.
The thuds grew louder and louder until the window Beth and Lobo were standing by exploded into a thousand fragments. The bodyshell with the green lights and the sword on its back dove through the glass, spinning like a top that flew off the table. The machine landed perfectly upright on its legs and drew the blade all in one fluid motion. The robotic head with the green optical lights tilted upward, making “eye” contact with the detective.
“Shit!” Lobo exclaimed as he leaped back in surprise. He shielded himself from any glass shards while the mechanical assassin rose to its feet, then lifted his gun and fired.
He got off at least six shots, a few even sparking off the reinforced armor plating that covered the bodyshell’s frame. The assassin
