Birth of Heavy Metal Boxed Set

by Michael Todd

  He was proud of the men. His opinion of what this whole thing was hadn’t changed, though.

  Red Leader, Sergeant Addison, a trained Navy SEAL, approached him in the center of operations. He was out of the armor now and dressed in his fatigues. Addison was the de-facto leader of the squads, even though Anderson had the nominal title. The colonel trusted the man with power armor boots on the ground better than himself, and he’d asked him to join him once they’d returned from the attack on the bounty hunter base.

  Addison saluted sharply. “Colonel Anderson. It’s great to have you here to oversee these operations.”

  He returned the salute and patted the man on the shoulder. “The pleasure is mine, believe me. That was some impressive work out there, sergeant.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He indicated for the sergeant to join him in the center of operations and they moved into the relative cool of the small building.

  “I looked at your preliminary report,” Anderson said as he sat in front of some of the screens.

  “The power armor makes shooting relatively simple,” Addison said and pointed to one of the videos. With the partially powered armor of the past, the massive rifles made it difficult for the users to maintain both their balance and their aim intact. Now, however, the operatives in full power armor seemed unaffected by the rounds they fired despite the bullets being large enough to take aircraft down.

  They had to be, all things considered. Anderson had seen videos of what teams had to face and fight inside the Zoo.

  “Guns weren’t the problem,” Addison continued. “Plus, the software was designed to help with kick so that there wasn’t any adjustment needed or anything like that. It took a few attempts to get used to it, but we figured it out in the training phase.”

  The colonel nodded and made a note on a pad in his hand.

  “These suits aren’t much good for covert operations, though,” the team leader continued. “It’s just… Imagine if you had to walk around in the tin man outfit from The Wizard of Oz. Sand in the joints doesn’t change mobility, at least not so far as we were able to see, but it’s rather like walking around in APCs. They’re loud, that’s my point, and no matter what kind of camo software you have on the outside, anybody we try to sneak up on will hear us from a mile away.”

  “They can probably fix that by isolating the joints,” Anderson remarked while he continued to make notes on his pad.

  “I’d like to see them do that without ruining the mobility,” Addison said with a smirk. “That’s already as limited as fuck. Seriously. You’re stuck in a constant goose-step, whether you walk or run. Any movement along the spine area is limited to the point where it’s a very good thing that they put in rear-view cameras.”

  The colonel nodded. “That all seems like something they could put into a training regimen.”

  “Well, yeah, but what’s the point?” the team leader asked with a shrug. “They will come up with something more workable in six months. The only reason someone would try to specialize in armor that’s already antiquated is to show off how badass you are, and bragging rights only get you so far in the world.”

  Anderson smirked and typed mobility and agility on his pad. He had the individual reports from the men, but they were all ‘on a scale of one to ten’ questions, which limited the actual viability of the answers. Perhaps that was intentional. Anderson didn’t give a fuck whether it was or wasn’t. If they wanted to waste his time with this shit, he would do it right, goddammit.

  “Did you encounter any problems with the software, though?” he asked.

  “It needs some fine tuning,” Addison said and sounded reasonable rather than concerned. “But I’m fairly sure that they’ll leave that to the individual user’s preference. I assume that those individual users will be—”

  “Guys who want personalized security for their private islands, yeah,” Anderson finished for him. He’d seen the report that detailed how much it cost to build these things.

  Base models would be sold in the mid-six-figures, easy. The ones that the operatives used now, with the software upgrades plus whatever it was that they could do to fix the problems that the operatives had identified…he could see each model going for a million dollars without breaking a sweat. And while it would be a good decade before the US military saw any of these in action on their side, there were more than a few billionaires out there who wouldn’t mind paying that much money to have a couple of walking tanks in control of their security.

  “How’s Blue Team’s progress?” Addison asked as the questions stopped.

  “They’re still moving toward the satellite marker. They should check in within a couple of minutes,” Anderson said and completed his notes on Addison’s thoughts on the armor’s performance. If nothing else, it would give his superiors enough reading material to make them think twice before they sent him on bullshit assignments like these for the near future.

  “Falcon, this is Blue Leader, over,” Michaels said over the commlink.

  “Roger that, Blue Leader. What is your ETA?” Anderson asked. He followed the GPS markers that moved toward the massive heat spot about three miles into the Zoo. Normally, it would have taken them a mere few minutes to reach that spot, but the jungle wasn’t an easy place to navigate, especially in the heavy suits of armor.

  “ETA is roughly five minutes, over.”

  “Roger that. Any updates on the armor?” Anderson asked. He could see Addison roll his eyes and look away out of the corner of his eye but he didn’t react.

  “Nothing to report,” Blue Leader responded. “Suits are operating at peak capacity.”

  “Roger that, Blue Leader.” The colonel leaned back in his seat. “Let me know once you’ve engaged the target.”

  “Will do, Falcon.”

  It was barely past midday. Courtney almost never got drunk and certainly never before dinner, so having to deal with wobbly legs during the daytime was a foreign experience for her. Not a bad experience, on the whole. It was something she could get used to.

  Besides, she wasn’t really drunk. She still had some coordination and could probably pass the visual test that many of the cops ran in her hometown. That said, she would not pass the breathalyzer, though.

  Imagine that, she mused. Daddy’s precious little girl—the one who hadn’t even been allowed to go out for a party until she moved out of her parents’ house and into a college dorm—now working on her daytime drinking.

  If that wasn’t a massive middle finger to the status quo of her life, she didn’t know what was. She’d probably want to figure out what the hell it was that she didn’t know and do that too at this point. She grinned and managed to keep herself from stumbling as she moved toward the houses. It was difficult to set up apartment buildings in a military complex, so they had merely grabbed the prefab that had been left over from the rest of the buildings and used as little as possible to make up some livable little houses for the various non-military personnel on base. The actual men and women in the armed forces had to share a barracks on the other side of the base.

  It was a decent enough arrangement, even if it did mean that all her neighbors were doctors and engineers like she was. It wasn’t a terrible situation, but it could definitely be improved.

  Courtney realized that she’d walked past her own house. She’d been lost in her thoughts of personal rebellion and completely missed the right turn that would lead her to the tiny little quasi-house that she’d called home for the past…holy shit, two years.

  That was some depressing shit right there.

  She was about to turn back when she realized that she knew where she was. Sal Jacobs lived in the tiny prefab house at the end of the street. She’d seen him exit the bar a few moments before she’d started talking to Kennedy. It had been hard to hear, but he’d said something about paperwork and a nap. She’d talked long enough for him to be finished with his paperwork by now.

  And if he was finished, maybe she could help h
im with that nap that he’d mentioned?

  Courtney giggled uncharacteristically at the odd yet not entirely unbidden thought. She’d carried a torch for the man for a while. He’d probably rebuff her again, but there was no harm in seeing if he needed some company, right?

  She made her way to the house and was about to knock on the door when she saw that it was cracked open. Before she could have second thoughts, she pushed it all the way and looked around. A desk stood to one side with a closed laptop on it opposite a small TV and a comfortable couch—standard in all the houses, she knew. The blinds were drawn but there was no sign of Jacobs.

  With a wonderfully giddy feeling at the excitement of exploring the unknown, she stepped inside. She moved toward the door at the back of the living room-kitchen, which was open as well. Sal laid on his bed, his eyes closed. He was asleep, though he hadn’t bothered to change out of his fatigues or get under the covers of the single bed.

  It seemed wrong for her to leave him like that, and she slipped inside his bedroom and closed the door behind her. Her heart pounded like it had when the massive monster had rushed at her the day before, but this was a different kind of excitement. The forbidden kind. She smiled and knelt beside the bed.

  He was young. That surprised her a little. He didn’t act it while he was awake, but asleep, she couldn’t help but realize it.

  Sal groaned softly, his eyes still closed. She froze in place, her eyes wide, and waited for him to wake up and see her there.

  He didn’t.

  She grinned and licked her lips as she leaned in close to his ear.

  “Hey, baby,” she whispered in a sultry tone. He groaned softly again and a small smile touched his lips.

  “Hey,” he murmured back, still fast asleep. She smiled and leaned forward again.

  “I want you so bad, Sal,” she whispered. “I need you so bad.”

  The smile lingered as he groaned again. Courtney was about to stand and leave, but as she turned, she saw that her words had definitely had a very visible effect on him.

  His fatigue pants were baggy but prone as he was, she could see his erection had already tented the fabric.

  She couldn’t resist the urge and ran her hand lightly down his stomach. It seemed perfectly natural to push his pants down, along with the boxers he wore underneath. She gasped softly as she freed his cock and her fingers wrapped instinctively around the quickly hardening shaft. Licking her lips, she rubbed her thumb over the thick head and gave it a few strokes.

  “Fuck,” Sal whispered in his sleep and Courtney smiled. She was there. He was ready for some action. What the hell, right?

  She pulled her shirt off, pushed her pants down, and kicked them away. Once she was fully undressed, she slipped onto the bed with him. Her fingers found his cock again and stroked it with more purpose this time as she leaned in to whisper in his ear when he moaned again.

  “I want you to fuck me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Madigan checked her watch. She knew that their days were all skewed the longer that they stayed on base. As it turned out, without some real military discipline in effect, she found it hard to keep to a regimen. She technically wasn’t a part of the military anymore and with Sal working the odd hours that he did, it was difficult to keep to a decent schedule.

  She’d never been much of a night owl. He was and could work all night, but once he fell asleep, she couldn’t have woken him before midday even with a howitzer.

  That all changed while they were in the Zoo. It was odd how having one’s life on the line could motivate one to change one’s personal schedule.

  Sal had told her that he’d meet her at three unless she called him first. She checked her watch again. He’d also said that he would finish his paperwork and take a nap. She knew that paperwork had a tendency to pile up when he didn’t feel like doing it but considering that they’d been required to wake up comparatively early to get in on the simulator tests, she doubted that it would be given any kind of priority. He’d be napping, and she didn’t want to interrupt that. He got grumpy when he didn’t get his sleep. She’d had an example the morning before when it had taken more than a regular quantity of coffee to stop him from charging through that sim as quickly as he could.

  Madigan tapped lightly at her phone but shook her head. The reality was that she was in no condition to drive, even if it was a damn long way to where she was still living. The thought occurred to her to head over to Sal’s place. It was a lot closer, and maybe she could nap with him.

  She shook her head. Best to get to her own place. The coffeemaker in his little house was the worst. She needed the good stuff, and she needed it bad. Sal would have to get through his “paperwork” on his own.

  Her mind returned to Courtney. The woman was sweet and a little lost. She wasn’t trusting, but she’d had her mind so focused on what she was involved in that it never occurred to her that someone would want to take advantage of her work for their own gains. It made her sad, but Madigan felt good for having been able to at least offer some help. She’d obviously need Sal’s okay too before she brought in any new members into Heavy Metal, but she doubted he’d have anything against it.

  He’d talked to her about Courtney before and had only had good stuff to say. She doubted that would have changed.

  She still felt bad for sending the poor girl off on her own, though. It occurred to her now that she could have walked Courtney home, at least. She seemed to have had trouble handling her drink.

  Kennedy shook her head. Aside from walking into the Zoo—which honestly was highly improbable—there wasn’t much trouble that Courtney could get into in the Staging Area. The girl would be fine, and once she sobered up, they could talk about her joining their little start-up in earnest.

  That was assuming that Madigan remembered what they had talked about. She chuckled and shook her head. No, that wouldn’t be a problem.

  Courtney pushed herself up from the bed. She tingled all over in the best way as she ran her fingers down her naked body. The light sheen of sweat had begun to evaporate and cool her off. It hadn’t been too engaging, but since she’d had to do most of the work, she had felt a delicious burn in her muscles toward the end to complement all the other sensations that had rushed through her body at the time.

  As her feet hit the ground, she staggered a little and registered a faint soreness between her thighs. That was normal, right? Plus, there was still plenty of alcohol in her system. Both would fade after she’d had some good sleep and coffee.

  She turned when she heard a gentle snore from Sal as he rolled over. While she’d put his clothes back on, she’d wondered if she could pull off the same wet dream trick as Madigan had. She smiled and bit her lip as she resisted the urge to go at him again. Maybe some other time.

  Courtney slipped into the bathroom, closed the door behind her, and put her clothes on. After a quick moment of thought, she undressed again, pulled her panties off, and hung them over the shower curtain. She smirked as she pulled her pants on again.

  Well, it was some evidence that whatever had happened wasn’t a wet dream. What he made of finding a strange pair of panties in his room was up to him, of course. She had a few fantasies of how it might play out, but she didn’t want to push her luck.

  She slipped out of the bathroom. He still slept and snored softly, and she slipped out of the bedroom. She staggered a little on her way to the front door and pulled it shut behind her as she turned to the right to walk toward her house.

  With a grimace of irritation, she shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked at a massive expanse of sand that stretched out in front of her instead of road.

  “Left,” she growled under her breath, turned, and headed back up the road. “Fucking…I live to the left.”

  Anderson focused on the screens when he saw the HUD cameras flicker on to give him and Addison a real-time view of what the soldiers saw. It was odd how even in the middle of the day, the thick foliage inside the Zoo made it se
em like the sun was setting. Visibility was low, so the men had activated the selection of sensors that allowed them to see without a full switch to complete night vision.

  The colonel gritted his teeth. The Zoo definitely wasn’t the nicest of places to be in under any circumstances, but the fact that they now headed directly into the belly of the beast—a metaphor that he really wished was less literal at this point—made it all that much worse.

  He gripped the arms of his office chair. He hated to have to sit on the sidelines of these missions. While he’d specialized in mountainous terrain, he also had extensive experience in jungle terrains and could be an asset out in the field on this mission.

  No, Anderson thought and shook his head gently. He hadn’t been cleared for combat duty for a reason, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think that he was in any way better equipped to make that call than a trained therapist. The man was a veteran himself and had served in the army during Desert Storm. He’d handled a lot of the PTSD cases in the military for decades. It was safe to say that he knew what he was talking about.

  Even so, the colonel hated his place on the sidelines like this.

  “Falcon, do you read?” One of the comms initiated contact. It wasn’t Blue Leader.

  “I read, what’s your status…Blue Three?” Anderson responded once he’d identified the man by his suit’s call signal.

  “We have some trouble with the comm on our end,” Blue Three said and sounded annoyed. “Do you pick up any signal issues?”

  He shifted his gaze to the real-time diagnostics and realized a few seconds later how much of a mistake that was. It was all a bunch of gibberish that showed all kinds of errors, for all he knew. He turned to one of the scientists in charge, but the man shook his head.

  “No issues on this end,” Anderson said over the comm. “I’ve been read into reports that indicate that the Zoo can interfere with radio signals. Try to keep the comm as clear as possible.”