by Robert Lyons
Zoe maintained the steel-trap grip on the young woman’s wrist. The hostage seemed to pay no heed to that fact that half of her body was being lifted off the ground. She was more preoccupied with concealing her face.
Steeljaws pried Zoe’s hand off and lifted the faceplate of his helmet so that his face was visible. He raised an eyebrow and gave a smirk to his wingman. It was the non-verbal signal for Zoe to disengage and allow Steeljaws to give it a go.
“Make it quick,” Zoe growled.
The armored figure nodded, taking a knee in front of the young woman.
“Hey … my name is Gunnar. From what I gather, your team had the same idea as us, and that is to get you out of here in one piece. Now, you have to do your part and help us out by keeping up. Can you do that?” Steeljaws’ voice was soft and comforting. He had to be docile. Between the battle and Zoe’s confrontational tactics, the young woman was subject to undergo cardiac arrest.
The girl muttered, slowly raising her head. “I-I…”
It took every ounce of Steeljaws’ willpower to keep his expression the same, even after seeing what happened to the girl’s face.
Zoe did not exercise the same amount of restraint.
“Those fucking Chroma…” Zoe muttered as she turned her head away a little, averting her gaze.
The bottom portion of the girl’s face was drenched with blood. Little pieces of flesh stuck to the edges of her small lips. Her jaw trembled as she blankly stared on.
“They chewed up my friends’ bodies … and then v-vomited it down m-my throat! I—!” The young woman choked, doubling over and puking out the contents of her stomach.
Zoe’s insides churned. Force-feeding a person to eat human meat was a sacrilege of the highest order.
“You’re not the only one,” Steeljaws said in calm voice, rubbing the young woman’s back.
“Huh?” Caught off-guard, the unfortunate victim wiped her mouth as stared curiously at the man who revealed his face to her.
“I told you my name was Gunnar. The name that most people call me by is my nickname, Steeljaws,” he told her in a matter-of-fact kind of voice.
Zoe turned away to watch the door, weapon in hand in the event there was a Chroma hiding, waiting for the opening to strike. She wasn’t sure whether that was the actual reason she decided to face away or the guilt that compounded in her heart when she heard the story behind the nickname Steeljaws earned. She wasn’t about to rule out either, but distracting herself was far less mentally taxing than facing self-reproach associated with how Gunnar became known by his nickname.
“A couple years back, I was in the same bind as you were. Surrounded, held as a hostage by the red-eyed beasts.” Instantly, the young woman’s fear that seemed to be permanently imprinted in her eyes vanished. Her face expression shifted to that of wonder.
“I could only watch as they ate my friends. There was nothing I could do to stop them. Then one of them turned to look at me with this … creepy smile. They decided to play a little game. They wanted see how much human flesh they could cram into me before I hurled. One of them approached me. He was coming to pry my mouth open while the others brought handfuls of what was left of my friends.”
The girl was seemingly attached to every word that left Steeljaws’ mouth.
Steeljaws grinned, glancing down to spot the woman’s last name stitched into the front pocket of her uniform. “You know what I did, Miss Belfer?”
“What? What did you do?” she asked intently.
“At the last moment, I got one of the Chroma’s fingers caught in my mouth. I bit down as hard as I could. Let’s say he did not appreciate that. So I ended up spitting out my front teeth and a severed Chroma finger after they landed a couple of hits. The Chroma I bit took his revenge by breaking my jawbone. The rescue HAWK team got to me right before I was finished off. Because of the way that the Chroma broke my jaw, a complete reconstruction with steel reinforcements was used.”
Knocking his gloved knuckles against his lower jaw, a dull metallic clank was heard. “All I’m saying is, be glad that you’re not injured. Granted, you probably won’t have a cool nickname like me but…” Steeljaws produced a small rag from one of the many belt pouches around his waist. He began to wipe away all of the gore that clung to the delicate woman’s face. “…A good-looking girl like you doesn’t deserve to be shamed with this. The underside isn’t pretty…”
Just below Steeljaws’ jawline was a thick scar running from one ear, under his chin, then back up to the other ear. Belfer’s hands that were trembling violently earlier were now softly holding on to Steeljaws’ stationary hand. Once her face was cleaned, she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his chin. Indeed, it was solid.
“Thank you … Gunnar,” she whispered. “And call me Sandy.”
Steeljaws smiled. “There’s a ride waiting to get you out of here.”
Sandy had stabilized to the point where she became functional again. That much improvement was sufficient to successfully carry out the mission.
John’s war cry carried over the headsets abruptly as the sounds of gunfire echoed down the hall.
“What was that?” Sandy asked, jumping and clinging to Steeljaws’ available arm.
“Captain John Kubovics. The one man we’d all follow to hell and back.” Steeljaws grinned, knowing that the captain would stop at nothing if it meant saving his men. “Looks like the bastards tried to spring trap on him … but he’s the Ninth Force’s captain for a reason.”
5.
The SCAR-FN rifle blazed through the extended magazines that were stacked with 7.62mm hollow point rounds. Lying flat on the floor with his gun pointed up to the heavens, John emptied the first magazine into the Chroma directly above him. Black, sticky blood splattered against the ceiling, leaving abstract art-like splotches.
There were four of the humanoids concealed for an ambush on the ceiling. When the overhead lights came on and the Chroma’s cover was blown, all hell broke loose.
Instead of losing that precious millisecond to reload the primary firing system, John reached for the second trigger that operated a secondary mechanism. A second, larger barrel that poked out from the bottom of the SCAR abruptly unleashed a breath of fire.
John caught the second Chroma right between the eyes with 12-gauge buckshot. He rolled out of the way before the corpses slammed against the floor where he was lying. The dead bodies hit the steel plates with a loud clank, denting the metal-plated floor.
After firing another buckshot into the first Chroma, John ejected the empty shell and slipped another in the chamber. The fire breath of lead and gunpowder exploded out of the weapon. He was making sure to finish the job.
John dropped out the empty magazine from the receiver, the piece of plastic clattering onto the floor as he slapped a filled one in its place. He drew a small breath, looking around the room. Smokey and Roadblock were leaning up against the walls, holding their guns with an air of weakness.
“What did I say about staying frosty?!” John called out.
“I almost shit myself!” Smokey called back.
He began to wipe the residue off of his shoulder plate. The consistency of the Chroma’s saliva was viscous, like syrup, but the substance had the clarity of water.
“Good thing the bastards forgot to control their slobber.”
About thirty seconds before, the three men were preparing to turn the Intel Gathering Facility back on to its full function capacity, which included all of the surveillance and door overrides. That was when Smokey’s shoulder pad was doused in drool.
“Not me, sir…” Roadblock groaned while his body was doubled over with pain.
“Status report, David Shubert,” John spoke into the microphone.
The captain’s HUD shimmered as a diagram of the human body with outstretched arms and wrapped in the silhouette of the Aeonian Armor system was projected. The areas of the abdomen and right upper arm were colored red compared to the rest of the cool blue diagra
m. “Armor integrity, sixty percent. Major lacerations detected on the right shoulder. Puncture wound detected in the abdominal region. Administer first aid immediately.”
“Shit, Dave!” Smokey bellowed.
“Damn it.” John closed the diagram that bore the bad news, freeing up the HUD so that his vision was unobstructed.
“That bastard was just too fast for me…” Roadblock’s voice was strained.
“Smokey, power up all of the available terminals,” John ordered, making his way to the injured teammate. “After that, restore functionality of all sensors inside of the facility. Locate any remaining Chroma, and then feed it to our HUDs. Lastly, get the data link back up online and start transmitting the data of the sensors back to base and the chopper.”
“It will be done.” Smokey nodded, stepping over the dead Chroma bodies to reach the terminal he was working on previously.
“Shubert, relax,” John instructed, helping the other man lie down on the floor. “I’ll do what I can with what’s on hand.”
“John, did you have fun killing everything?” Zoe asked over the radio. “Judging by the amount of gunfire, it sounded like there were a lot of them.”
“It was an ambush, but we managed to get out of it—mostly in one piece,” John responded while opening the small medical kit that HAWK members were required to keep on their utility belt. He extracted a small syringe from the medical kit, prepping the needle and opening up the under-suit that covered Roadblock’s stomach.
“…Who took the hardest hit?” Zoe asked, her paced breathing suggesting that she was on the run. “Let me guess, it was Dave—the most qualified guy on our team to administer medical treatment.”
“That’s why we’re all taught the basics. Heads up, Dave, this is going to sting,” John warned as he pushed the needle into raw flesh. Reacting to the burn of the disinfectant, Roadblock’s lower back flexed, his body arching upward.
He relaxed after the excruciating pain slowly abated.
“I forgot how much that burns!” Roadblock spoke through clenched teeth, trying to focus on anything else besides the pain. “I’m usually on the administering side…”
“Captain, we have an update,” Steeljaws spoke up this time. “The ‘package’ we saved told me that she is a medical officer. We’ll be over in your location in a second.”
Perfect timing, John thought as he peered at the gash that stretched across Roadblock’s stomach. In a typical combat scenario, Chroma used their bare knuckles or razor-sharp nails as their main weapons. What John was seeing was not a wound inflicted by the hands of the Chroma. It was unmistakably the marks of teeth that dodged between the armor plates and pierced through the skin-tight under-suit.
Carefully maneuvering his hands, John removed the plate that partially absorbed the attack, exposing the wound to open air. The dark undergarment that tore from the bite attack peeled from the wound with ease. John wrinkled his nose instinctively even though he couldn’t actually pick up on odors with the helmet’s faceplate blocking his face. The flesh was rapidly turning purple around the site of the wound. A small amount of puss began to ooze out of the holes left by the fangs.
An instant infection?!
The hurried footsteps of Zoe, Steeljaws, and the medical officer came to a halt as they rounded the corner and caught sight of the man lying on his back with John kneeling by his side. The medical officer looked around at the slaughtered Chroma scattered all over the floor. She hid behind Steeljaws, still timid of the colored-eyed beasts, even if they were only corpses.
“So much for your bet about not getting injured on the job,” Zoe called out.
“Yes - I’m just chipper, thanks for asking, Zoe.” Roadblock chuckled, but was soon wincing in pain.
Once the young woman blocked out the sight of the Chroma bodies scattered all over the floor, she relocated by the downed man’s side, whipping out her flashlight and shinning the beam into Roadblock’s eyes once his faceplate was removed.
“What was the result of Aeonian Armor scan?” Sandy asked, preparing some tools that she had tucked away in her belt.
“A big cut on the right shoulder, and that giant wound in his gut. That’s where the Chroma bit into him,” John rattled off the damage report on Roadblock.
“Does the patient have any allergies to medications?” she asked systematically, sounding more like a machine than a human.
“No, he does not. Pump him full of whatever you have. He can take it,” John replied.
“Bite wound. Site appears to already be infected. Administering a general toxin neutralizer,” Sandy said in a monotone voice, as her hands flew here and there, getting the field operation ready.
To simply claim that Steeljaws was impressed by the medical officer’s initiative wouldn’t have been entirely accurate. Her sudden change in personality, morphing from frightened and deadweight to that of a medical professional who excelled under pressure on the job, was nothing short of spectacular. He put his hand on his hip, leaning slightly to the side with amusement as he watched her do what she did best.
“Maybe she’s not as useless as we thought.” Steeljaws grinned as he glanced at Zoe. She rolled her eyes and shrugged, nowhere near as enthralled.
“I would hope this wouldn’t be too difficult, given that this is her field of expertise.”
“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today?” Steeljaws raised his eyebrows. “Did Drew forget to pay ‘attention’ to you before he left on his little mission?”
Zoe took a deep breath, silently brooding on whether or not to test the full extent of Steeljaws’ armor. It was always up for debate if the system could absorb an entire magazine of ACP rounds and keep the user alive.
“While you’re pre-occupied with the ‘former deadweight’ medic, I’m trying to figure out that wound.” Zoe’s head leaned slightly to the side as she sneaked a glance just past the young woman’s shoulder at Roadblock. “What do you make of that bite?” Zoe’s left hand formed into a fist as her imagination ran wild.
“A bite wound from the Chroma? Unless you’re already stiff and they’re eating … then no, I’ve never heard of it. It’s too risky for Chroma to put their heads that close to our weapons when they can use their arms and legs to attack. This has got to be the first time I’ve seen a bite wound on someone who was alive.” Steeljaws shook his head, crossing his arms across his chest.
Since the beginning of time, the simple truth that ruled the world still held ever true: the species that was capable of adapting to change was the one deemed to survive. Steeljaws and most of the younger HAWKs felt that the Intel on the monsters gathered some forty years ago was far out of date. There was no conceivable way the HAWK had all the answers on how to defeat these monsters, but what the team was seeing was some sort of an anomaly. The Chroma were intelligent creatures. This move was just senseless violence with no positive yield.
“Hey, captain! Don’t you think it’s a little weird that all this shit went down here?” Zoe interrupted suddenly. “I mean, you get a call from Jones telling us that one of our facilities needs to be cleared out because there are Chroma running free? Not to mention all of the dead bodies! Why are the upper ranks keeping us in the dark?”
Those present shared the same thought, but Zoe had the clout to stand up and say what was on her mind. Everyone else simply trusted John’s word and proceeded to go along with the mission without a word of complaint.
“I’m aware. That’s why we’re going to escort Miss…?”
“Sandy Belfer,” the medic replied to the captain’s inquiry, still working diligently on Roadblock’s wound.
“We’re escorting Miss Belfer out of here. I’m going to make sure that the data drive gets into Jones’ hands, but I’m putting the medical officer first.” John stood up, walking away from where Roadblock was lying down.
While everyone was distracted discussing how he or she felt about the situation, Sandy dexterously produced a small re-sealable tube and extracted a small sa
mple from the wound. She quickly tucked it away as a bead of sweat ran down her forehead, working in silence.
“Smokey, what’s the progress for the sensors going online?” John turned back to look at the man who had been cracking through codes and overriding firewalls that were activated when the system’s power was tampered with.
“Thirty seconds until the internal sensors power up and begin to scan for the Chroma signatures,” Smokey replied, lifting his hands away from the terminal. “The sensors will pick up the bastards’ energy signatures … and will conveniently display their relative positions right on our HUDs.”
“After we confirm that all targets have been eliminated, we will advance to the surface and connect with our transport. Trygstad—let our mission monitors know what the hell is going on down here. Zoe—you will branch off to grab the data drive when all other objectives are secured,” John assigned the roles.
“System is booted up, boss,” Smokey announced as he gazed at the screen. The map of the underground facility was now overlaid with blips that skirted along all the walls. There was a room full of green dots.
“We are the green markers…” Smokey trailed off as the sensors calibrated.
The screen shimmered; a lone yellow dot that was at the polar end of the facility was slowly moving along a hallway. “…And looks like we have one more unwelcomed guest.”
“Copy that. Gunnar, how’s the ride coming along?” John asked.
Steeljaws held up one finger to silence the room as he concentrated with whatever he was seeing on his HUD.
“Trying to establish contact with the chopper, but I’m getting interference,” Steeljaws growled in frustration.
“We’ll deal with that once we break the surface. Smokey, where’s the extraction point?”
“Route to our primary extraction point is currently blocked by the last Chroma. There’s a secondary exit nearby,” Smokey spoke as he navigated through the installation on the electronic map before him. “Damn it, Road. You picked the perfect time to get a chunk torn out of you—!”
