Post by BWS2K on Oct 2, 2019 9:17:07 GMT -7
Staccato gunfire rang out across the night sky in the distance, the closing refrain of a fading overture to a symphony of destruction that had been playing for hours. Smoldering wreckage and lifeless bodies littered the cold wet ground. Bright yellow and orange flames punctuated the darkness, accentuating the shadows that danced across the jungle landscape. Truly, this was not what Michael Collins had hoped for.
It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get in, get evidence, get out. Estrella was Deathlok's debut back in the beginning. Here were the lightly armed villagers and unprepared soldiers whose lives the Cybertek investors had counted as worthless. Just soft targets to test prototypes against. Word had reached Collins via anonymous e-mail that hard evidence remained here, linking Roxxon to the war crimes. SHIELD had given him their blessing and even some updated information on local forces and transport. They had a way of underselling risk, though. Something Collins would mention when he got back.
If he got back.
<nanite repair routines running // organics no longer in critical condition // 14.4 minutes until this unit is returned to optimal combat capacity>
Fourteen minutes was a long time when people were dying. Deathlok could reach a speed of near 90mph easily but in his condition and on this uneven ground, the best he could manage was an average of a little over half that if he wanted to avoid further confrontation. Which he very much did.
It'd been a trap. In retrospect, it should've been obvious. People always wanted Deathlok's cyborg body for their own purposes. Collins' own brain, however, was in far less demand. After breaching the perimeter and making for the central building that was supposed to contain dossiers and recordings of years of illegal operations here, his sensors had picked up multiple incoming aircraft. Big ones. They arrived just after he was sure the file cabinets contained nothing of value, and their cargo were cybertanks. Collin's had fought similar constructs before but apparently no one had bothered to evacuate the civilians for this ambush.
Typical.
The first tank rumbled over some outlying huts and opened fire immediately on Deathlok's location. Evasive maneuvers to close the range were successful, and several well-placed shots from his plasma pistol disabled the machine... but there were many, many more. Almost a dozen that registered on his radar, and nearly a hundred people just now waking up to the sudden familiar sounds of battle. Some were armed, most were not, none were capable of making any kind of difference against these enemies. They were already taking heavy losses.
Computer, formulate a plan to take out these tanks and minimize collateral damage.
<targets are unmanned // destruction permissible?>
Nobody's driving them? Excellent. Yes, we can blow them up.
Deathlok closed the distance on another cybertank, this time not bothering to place his rounds so precisely. A few blasts from his sidearm in any location were bound to put it out of commission. He'd have to take this fight outside the village though, or things were going to get real complicated real fast. A few fragmentation grenades later, two more tanks were down.
<battle plan complete // execute?>
"Do it!" shouted Collins, forgoing the inner voice with which he usually addressed the computer for the sake of, well... drama? Chalk it up to the heat of the moment.
Michael Collins awoke to awareness of his new existence years ago, only a few kilometers from the very spot in which he now stood. Then, it'd been to his horror to realize he was not in control of his cyborg body. His brain had been installed as little more than wetware. Organic storage space for a sophisticated artificial intelligence that would obey commands from whatever distant masters had the current passcodes. The flashback is poignant, for now he willingly gave way for the computer to take over and enact its own routines. It was like watching a war film with full sensory input. Or, perhaps more accurately, being on the most dangerous roller coaster ever.
The tanks now had a full bearing on Deathlok, forcing him to dodge and tumble to avoid injury. His adamantium shell would probably survive a direct hit or two but his organics and interior components might not fair so well. More plasma rounds, more grenades, more multi-million dollar war machines turned into smoking husks and scrap. The battle was moving outside the village too, which was really the point. Weapons fire was coming from some of the civilians but it was of little threat to either Deathlok or the cybertanks, and so went largely ignored.
<three hostiles remain // civilians nearing proximity // ceasin-
BOOM!
One of the tanks finally got lucky. The artillery round slammed into Deathlok's chest, throwing him clear to the other side of the village. All was dark for only a moment, but it was a moment too long.
BOOM! BOOM!
Two more rounds landed within arms reach, tossing him about like a ragdoll. The tanks were closing now, grinding the village under their treads as they did so. Collins managed to roll away and get to a standing position, but things did not look great.
Computer... how are we?
<dirct hit regstered // inntrnal damaage // repppari subrtnes prcesssing>
Right.
Worse, Collins now realized he'd dropped his weapon somewhere. He'd find it eventually, if he lived long enough. It was a big 'if'.
Jogging to flank the furthest enemy, he leapt onto its roof. Hopefully this would give pause to the others for a few seconds. Time to think. If not, well, at least he wouldn't be surprised this time. Maybe he'd even land near his pistol.
B-R-R-R-ATATATATATATAT!
More small arms fire from the villagers. Nothing much to be worried about but apparently it inspired some creativity in whoever was controlling the tanks. They slowed, turned, and began opening fire. Michael Collins' had never been a man of violence. "Do what's right, not what's easiest" was his life's motto, and that applied to brute force. The waking nightmare of inhabiting a killing machine against his will had taken some getting used to. He wasn't entirely sure he'd ever adjust, really. One thing it afforded him - when innocent people were about to get hurt, he could usually step in and stop it.
Usually.
"What are you doing?! Hey! You want me, you got me!!" he shouted over the clamor of combat. Jumping down and, hands raised, he ran to take a position between the tanks and the civilians. "Stop firing!"
It didn't seem to matter. They were now firing past Deathlok, ignoring him and intentionally slaying any and all within range. It was too much.
Computer...?
<rpairs in prgress // estmate 29.3 mintes untl optmmal functns rstored>
Right. I get that, but we need to end this now. Disengage safety locks. Take out these tanks.
<acknwleged>
The roller coaster just got an upgrade. Discarding personal safety, Deathlok suddenly ran for the nearest tank and leaped over it. His joints whined in protest, and Collins could sense several subsystems straining well into the red. Turning, he grabbed what appeared to be a rear access panel and tore it off. Entering the vehicle itself, the computer scanned for, and found, the primary power source for the cybertank and ripped it loose. Based on the sights and sounds he was now hearing, and the tendrils of green smoke now starting to billow from the fuel cell, this might have been a bad idea. Deathlok then punched through the side of the disabled tank and hurled the makeshift grenade at another cybertank.
It was beautiful carnage. Even Collins had to admire the handiwork.
One tank remained, and it appeared to hesitate. That was a mistake. Deathlok returned to the emptied hulking mass of steel and, critical systems now beginning to shutdown from operating without safety measures in place, punched through interior components until finding the ammo store. A shell in each arm, he kicked his way through the other side and lobbed one, then the other, at the final target.
BA-BOOM!
The explosion rocked the jungle for a dozen kilometers in all directions and sent Deathlok sprawling into the treeline.
After several minutes offline, Collins regained consciousness and assessed his situation. The battle seems to have continued somehow off to the North - perhaps the tanks' controllers were taking out their frustrations on another village. For once, Deathlok would not be there to help. His evac was minutes away and even without having sustained significant damage, there was no way he'd get there to make a difference. No, this time they'd have to protect themselves. Surveying the scene from within some of the wreckage, he considered that he should probably be more used to setups by now. When bad guys with money wanted you dead, they didn't like to give up.
"But I won't forget," he muttered to the destroyed community at his feet. "They'll pay for this, I promise."