Fire at Will [Mech Sci-Fi Military]

BIRD IN HAND AND TWO IN THE BUSH

Will crouched low over the bomb as he rigged the detonator. The tripwire snapped taut, nearly invisible against the debris-strewn sidewalk as he threaded it around a broken concrete slab and an exposed I-beam. With the device in place, he backed away, every movement careful and deliberate. The bomb was lethal—powerful enough to cripple a mech within a six-foot radius.

A sinking realization struck him. The bomb's blast spanned six feet—but the street itself stretched nine.

"Crap!" he hissed, glancing at the extra charges strapped to his waist. There was a three-foot unprotected gap, and no time to rig another.

Will scanned the rubble-strewn street, thinking furiously. He had to somehow funnel the enemy right on top of the bomb—but how?

His gaze landed on the slain Condors and froze. A stab of revulsion knotted his stomach, but he forced it down. Gritting his teeth, he dragged the scorched bodies aside and laid them near the blast zone's perimeter. Now any attacker avoiding the bomb would have to trample their own fallen brethren.

After blocking the rest of the road with the bodies, Will sprinted to the shattered facade of a ruined building and slipped inside. He pressed himself against a crumbling wall, peering through a jagged window. Engaging the mech sensors, he zoomed in on the booby-trapped sidewalk—watching, waiting, every nerve on edge.

A rumble came from the distance that steadily got louder as heavy, uneven footsteps approached. A battered mech lumbered into view, smoke trailing from its scorched defensive plating.

Will crossed his fingers as the mech rushed down the pathway. Would it run through the trap or avoid it entirely? It was all a matter of luck now.

The mech thumped down the street, heading straight for the pile of corpses. Its foot hovered over the heads of the fallen Condors for a moment before it stepped aside, avoiding the bodies.

Will held his breath as he watched the mech's foot come down. A faint click echoed through the street, and the world exploded. A deafening blast rocked the corridor, sending shards of plascrete raining down and rattling the half-standing building Will was hiding in.

Smoke and dust swirled in choking clouds, and Will blinked through the haze. The clouds of dust obscured his vision and even the mech's sensors came blank. Will waited with bated breath. Was the bomb enough to bring down the mech?

A shadowy figure stumbled out of the dust cloud, scorched black from the explosion. The mech's servos whined as it staggered forward, its torso impaled by a jagged piece of rebar.

The mech managed only a few errant steps before it ground to a halt. With a bang, the hatch in the mech's chest panel burst open and a bloodied man tumbled out, clutching his pierced torso.

The rebar had torn a sizable portion from the abdomen, and blood flowed freely from the wound. The kneeling figure raised his head, and Will immediately recognized Captain Jorg. His sneering face was absent his usual arrogance as he scanned the perimeter warily.

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Will gazed at the captain with narrowed eyes. Their mission was to capture the Condor leadership, and now one had presented himself gift-wrapped.

Will tapped into the comms. "Striker Lead, this is Recon 1. Bogey sighted—ID confirmed as Captain Jorg of the 1st battalion. Enemy is down but moving."

There was a crackle of static, and Damian came through. "Approach with caution, Recon 1. Delay until reinforcements arrive."

"Roger that," Will replied. "Recon out."

Will brought his idling mech to a low hum, and its engines went quiet as he entered stealth. Stowing away his rifle, he switched it out for a knife.

The swirling dust cloud and the clatter of debris raining down the side street masked his approach as he made a beeline for the Condor leader.

Captain Jorg was still doubled over in pain, and Will's eyes blazed as he brought the knife down toward the man's leg. Just as the blade reached the edge of the Captain's field, his trembling stopped—and he burst into sudden, violent motion.

There was a metallic gong, and Will felt his chest nearly cave in as a punch landed squarely on his torso. The protective plating almost gave way as he was flung back onto the sidewalk.

Will landed with a crash but managed to remain on his feet as he slid backward down the road. Warning lights blared on his HUD, which he quickly silenced.

Captain Jorg stood there, his arm still extended, his fist steaming. Panting slightly, he straightened up, ignoring the blood dripping from his abdomen.

"Damn!" Will cursed. He was nearly as strong as Damian. Will's hand twitched toward his rifle but he held himself back. This would've been so much easier if he could go all out—but the Captain had to be taken alive. Gritting his teeth, he raised his knife.

Captain Jorg lifted his chin. "I don't remember Habal ever recruiting the likes of you. Who the hell are you lot?"

Will raised an eyebrow. Had he really figured out their ruse, or was he just stalling for time? Either way, there was no time for chit-chat.

Will brought the mech to full power and charged.

A rapid series of metallic clangs rang out as Will struck. The Captain had produced a combat knife seemingly from nowhere and parried each of Will's strikes with ease. Despite being in a mech with engines flaring at max power, it was hard for Will to contend with the Captain's skill.

Gritting his teeth, Will pressed the attack. He couldn't let up for even a second. The injuries his opponent had suffered were the only thing keeping Will in the fight, and he had to press the advantage while it lasted.

Their violent clash sent debris flying as they raged up the side street. Will managed to push the opponent back up the path, and the Captain seemed to be faltering. His movements slowed, his reactions a half-step too late.

Will's thrusts grew more vicious, but the Captain held on. Will, too, felt the fatigue seeping in. It had only been seconds of combat, but already he felt the drain. Blood from the Captain's open wound scattered onto the asphalt, and he faltered for a moment. Will ruthlessly took the opening, knife at the ready to strike—when he noticed the piercing glint in the Captain's eye.

A chill ran through Will, and he cut his attack short, dodging to the side.

A sharp metallic screech tore through the air as a blade sliced inches above his helmet visor, and another arced low, making contact with his mech's knee joint.

Twisting away, Will lashed out, sending the two new attackers staggering back.

Breathing hard, Will looked around to find himself surrounded by three soldiers. Captain Jorg exchanged glances with the newcomers. One of them wore a cloak obscuring their figure, while the other was in military fatigues—a gaunt, rail-thin man with short-cropped blond hair. Will immediately recognized him as Captain Jorg's second. He was also listed for capture.

Will tapped into the comms. "Striker Lead, I have two new contacts."

The reply came almost immediately. "Recon 1, pull back. Reinforcements are en route. Pull back."

Will watched the three Condors exchange hand signals, their expressions grim.

"I don't think that option's available," he muttered, his hand drifting toward his strapped rifle.

This was bad.

Sweat trickled down Will's brow as his eyes darted between his three opponents.

His heart thundered in his chest, and for a single, suspended moment, the world stilled.

The moment passed in the blink of an eye.

Then, without warning, they surged forward—blades flashing.