Eventually, Kurz managed to press the muzzle of the gun against the wrist of the hand around his neck, and pull the trigger. Then he fired a second and third time. Instead of a blood spurt, shards of plastic and metal scraped his cheek.
The enemy’s hand relaxed immediately, with the suddenness of a rubber band snapping. Kurz didn’t have time to feel relief; he stuck the muzzle into the enemy’s glowing red eye-slit and let fire with a series of 9mm rounds. Sparks flew, a burning smell filled the air, and the enemy reeled back a bit.
Kurz kicked it as hard as he could. It was like kicking a 100 kilogram sandbag, and while he managed to force the enemy away, it didn’t seem shaken in the slightest. Mercilessly, determinedly, and with pure intent to kill, it charged him again.
Kurz lost his balance and fell to his knees, gasping for breath. He needed oxygen. The enemy’s right arm swung down at him, rattling uncertainly on its cracked wrist. An artificial hand? No... Kurz wondered. Just who the hell is this—
“Kurz!!” Someone came leaping out of nowhere to smack the back of the attacker’s head with a pipe. It was Yang. He was dripping with blood, coated with it head to toe, but he was still alive.
Kurz didn’t even have time to thank his lucky stars, as the large man, unfazed by Yang’s attack, swung out almost automatically with his right hand. Yang blocked with the pipe, but the force of the blow bent it in half, and sent the man flying into a nearby container.
Whatever this thing is, it’s not human, Kurz realized. In addition, blows to the head and the torso seemed useless. Kurz leaped out to grab one of the enemy’s legs, then pointed his gun at the back of its right knee. He took aim for the part that his experience and instincts as an AS pilot told him would be the least armored, and let off three shots. Gelatinous liquid and solid polymer scraps went flying. The enemy lost balance and crashed to the floor.
“Why... you...” Before it could even struggle, he unloaded two shots into its right shoulder, two into its left armpit, and two into the inner thigh where the leg joined to the hip—he would have done more, but at last, the pistol’s slide stopped in its rear-cocked position. He was out of ammo.
Even with most of its limb connectors destroyed, the enemy continued to struggle with what remained, searching for its enemies with its cracked head sensor.
“K-Kurz? You okay?” Yang asked haltingly, leaning against the container.
Kurz, panting for breath himself, swapped his gun’s magazine skillfully. “Yeah. Son of a bitch... What about you? You’re covered in blood...”
“Actually, that thing ended up firing through a stack of canned tomatoes over there... I think it just knocked me out cold,” Yang admitted.
“Oh, is that the gag?” Kurz asked. Now that he had a minute to think about it, it was clear that the room didn’t smell like blood at all. Still, he found a new worry entering his mind. I’m doomed, he thought woefully. All the tomatoes are gone... I’m gonna have survived all that, only for the cook to murder me. He decided to move the conversation along. “So, where’s Wu?”
“Dunno,” Yang mumbled. “He was right beside me, but...”
“Sorry, Sergeant, Corporal...” Wu popped out from a large wooden crate far behind Yang, also looking perfectly sound. “I decided to hide and play possum. That thing looked dangerous as hell.”
“You could’ve given me a little warning, dammit!” Kurz exploded.
“I’ll certainly do that next time.” Wu laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head.
“Still, what the hell is this thing?” Kurz mused, his neck still aching. From what he could see, their assailant had lost most of its mobility. It had a human’s silhouette, but it was a machine, almost like a 3rd generation AS shrunk down to human size. Are these those human-sized Amalgam ASes that Kaname mentioned running into in Shibuya? he wondered. If she hadn’t told me about that, it would’ve taken me a lot longer to realize I should target the joints...
“Don’t ask me. It just burst out of the container and—” Yang suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, seemingly realizing the same thing as Kurz.
Would an enemy that’s given Mithril so much trouble in the past really hand over a machine like this so easily? he pondered. Wouldn’t they have thought up a way to dispose of its remains if it were ever immobilized?
The robot stopped struggling. In that exact moment, Yang took two or three steps back, and whispered, “K-Kurz. It’s...”
“...I know,” Kurz agreed quickly. “Run!” They all took off at almost the exact same time. A second later, the robot exploded, sending a fireball, shockwave, and anti-personnel ball bearings bursting through the hold.
Kurz threw himself to the floor. White smoke and dust hung thick around him, as he was peppered by fragments and debris. About on par with a Claymore mine, Kurz estimated of the blast, even while grimacing from the ringing in his ears.
“Hey, Kurz. Still alive over there?” Yang asked leisurely. It seemed like the other two had survived.
“Sorry to disappoint, but yeah,” Kurz replied, pushing aside the charred wood that had fallen on top of him with a curse. “Damn, what a mess...” The area around the explosion was a miserable sight of bent steel and torn-open containers, their contents scattered and burning. The sprinklers activated next, showering the hold with water.
Yang said, “We need to report this to the lieutenant. I don’t know what that robot really was, but it’s clearly a trap.”
“Got it,” Kurz agreed. “Uruz-6 to HQ! You read me?” He called into his radio.
Back at headquarters, Clouseau responded immediately. “HQ here. Was that an explosion in Area C32?”
“Affirmative!” Kurz replied. “One of those robots Angel told us about. We managed to take it out, but it exploded on us.”
“Robots?” Clouseau asked in surprise. “Those Alastor
