Standing at least fifteen feet tall, its rusted frame covered in jagged plating, was another mech. Unlike the first, this one wasn’t humanoid—it moved on six reinforced legs, insectile in its motion, and its primary weapon was no rotary cannon.

It was a plasma cannon. A big one.

“That much larger.” Priest pointed towards the cannon.

“Thanks,” said Gravel.

“Wait . . .” mumbled Hunter. “That’s no antique. That’s a brand new Spider, sponsored by the Republic. Why is it here?”

The Republic was a sprawling, militarized coalition that had risen from the ashes of the Old World; its reach extending across continents through a mix of economic dominance and brute force. Officially, it was a beacon of order, promising stability in the lawless wastelands, but in Gravel’s eyes, it was an iron-fisted regime that valued control above all else. Its elite forces, known as the Enforcers, wielded cutting-edge technology, and its war machines—like the six-legged mech now staring them down—were the pinnacle of modern combat engineering.

One thing, though: this planet wasn’t supposed to be on the map. It wasn’t supposed to be within the Republic’s jurisdiction.

Gravel sighed. “Our contractor has some real explaining to do.”

With a sharp whir, its plasma cannon adjusted, locking onto the trio.

Then, without hesitation, it fired.

A blinding white-hot blast tore through the foliage, disintegrating trees and sending a shockwave through the ground. Gravel barely had time to shove Hunter aside before the beam scorched the earth where she had been standing. Ash and molten debris rained down.

“Not cool!” Hunter coughed, rolling to her feet. “That thing doesn’t do warning shots.”

Priest tapped a command into his wrist device. “Energy signature confirms it—fully charged, military-grade. It’s got enough firepower to level a city block.”

“Great,” Gravel muttered. “How do we kill it?”

Hunter’s gaze darted to the cannon. “That thing has a charge cycle, right? I fought against one when I was conscripted. We bait the next shot, then hit it when it cools.”

“Sure,” Gravel deadpanned. “I’ll just stand here and tank a plasma blast.”

Priest’s eyes flickered an artificial glow. “Actually, you might.”

Gravel turned to him, unimpressed. “Excuse me?”

Priest gestured at Gravel’s hardened blackened arms, still smoldering from his last fight. “Your mutation absorbs kinetic force, but we’ve never tested it against energy weapons.”

“I am not risking my life for a B-rated mission–ah shit! Here comes another blast!”

The mech’s plasma cannon let out a high-pitched whine as its core pulsed with blinding energy. A heartbeat later, a searing bolt of blue-white plasma erupted from the barrel, streaking toward them like a miniature sun.

Gravel barely had time to brace before it hit him square in the chest.

For a split second, everything went white. Then came the impact—a tidal wave of force and heat that should have turned him to ash. The air was filled with the acrid stench of scorched metal, a burning tang that clawed at Gravel’s throat. Instead, his body locked up, the blackened material of his mutation drinking in the raw energy like a bottomless pit. His vision blurred and his nerves screamed, but he stayed on his feet.

When the plasma dissipated, smoke curled from his skin. The jungle floor beneath him had been reduced to molten slag, and the air crackled with residual static. Gravel exhaled, steam venting from his mouth.

“Holy shit,” hiding behind Gravel, Hunter whispered.

Priest was already scanning him. “Your mutation held. Energy absorption confirmed.” Gravel had never needed to hear what he’d just observed himself from Priest more than he did then.

Gravel flexed his fingers. The power thrummed inside him; wild, untamed. His muscles felt heavier; charged. He clenched his fists, and the energy surged through his arms, crackling like bottled lightning.

A slow grin spread across his face.

“Oh,” he rumbled. “This is gonna be fun.”

Gravel took a step forward, rolling his shoulders as the absorbed energy coursed through him. His grin faltered as a sudden wave of exhaustion crashed over his body—his limbs felt like lead, his chest ached like he’d been sucker-punched by a freight train. His mutation had held, sure, but now he felt the cost. His fingers twitched as residual static danced over his skin, wild and uncontrollable.

The Spider mech took another step, its six legs hissing with hydraulic pressure as it adjusted its stance. Its plasma cannon began cycling again, the whine of its charging core sending a fresh chill down Gravel’s spine. He clenched his fists, preparing for another hit, but his gut screamed at him—this thing wasn’t going down easy.

“Okay,” Gravel exhaled, forcing himself to stay upright. “That was cool. But let’s be real, we’re not winning this fight.”

Hunter, still gripping her rifle, snapped her head toward him. “What? You just ate a plasma blast like it was the breakfast I made for you.”

“And I feel like I swallowed a damn sun,” Gravel shot back, shaking off the dizziness. “That thing’s still in one piece, and I don’t know if I can take another shot without my organs turning into soup.”

Priest’s fingers moved over his wrist device in rapid strokes. “The drive.”

Right. The whole reason they were here in the first place. Somewhere in the ruins, buried under decades of decay and dust, was the data drive their contractor had paid them to retrieve. The drive that, according to the briefing, wasn’t important enough to draw serious resistance.

Bullshit.

“Where’s our target?” Gravel asked.

Priest flicked through his scanner. “Signal’s faint. Twenty meters north, inside that structure.” He pointed at the crumbling remains of a bunker, half-covered in moss and vines.

“Of course,” Hunter groaned. “Right next to the killer mech.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

As if on cue, the Spider mech’s cannon flared again. A deep hum pulsed through the air, the telltale sign of another shot incoming.

“No time to argue,” Gravel growled. “We move. Now.”

Hunter and Priest didn’t need to be told twice. The trio split, dodging as the Spider let loose another searing blast. Gravel barely avoided the shockwave as it obliterated a nearby tree, sending burning shards of wood flying in all directions.

They sprinted toward the bunker, Gravel’s legs heavy but determined. The Spider pivoted, its targeting systems locking onto them. Another charge cycle began.

Gravel gritted his teeth.

They weren’t getting out of this without a distraction.

“Priest,” he barked. “Give me something. Anything.”

Priest’s scanner flickered. “Fuel cells. Back legs. Weak points.”

Good enough.

Gravel tensed, ready to act, but Hunter was already moving.

“Back off,” she ordered, slinging her rifle over her shoulder and reaching for something strapped to her belt—a sleek, matte-black tube with glowing blue seams. She flicked a switch, and the tube expanded with a sharp clack, forming a compact but deadly launcher.

Gravel’s eyes widened. “Is that—”

“Yep,” Hunter smirked. “A spike missile. One-time use. Costs more than my old squad’s entire gear budget.”

Priest gave her a look. “And you brought it here?”

“Hey, I like being prepared,” she shot back, dropping to one knee and locking onto the Spider’s back legs.

The mech’s cannon whined, its charge cycle nearly complete. It was moments from another shot—one they wouldn’t escape unscathed.

Hunter exhaled slowly. One shot. Make it count.

She squeezed the trigger.

With a muted thunk, the missile shot forward, leaving a faint blue trail in its wake. It buried itself deep into the mech’s back leg, right above the fuel cell casing. For a split second, nothing happened.

Then—BOOM.

The explosion was sharp and precise, a focused detonation that sent a shockwave through the jungle. The Spider reeled, its damaged leg buckling beneath it. Hydraulic fluid and sparks sprayed from the wound as it stumbled, its plasma cannon jerking upward and firing wildly into the treetops.

The electronic screen on Priest’s visor automatically activated.

[Damage Analysis Overlay: ACTIVE]

Target Integrity: 89% → 55%

Critical Damage Detected: Right rear hydraulic stabilizer

Fuel Cell Containment: Compromised—leakage detected

Movement Impairment: 40% reduction in stability

Hunter grinned, tossing the now-empty launcher aside. “That should slow it down.”

Gravel didn’t need more convincing. “Then move!”

With the mech struggling to stabilize, the trio sprinted toward the bunker. The entrance was just ahead, vines draping over its rusted doorway. Priest reached it first, keying in a command to his wrist device. The old security panel flickered to life, struggling to process his override.

Behind them, the Spider mech let out a mechanical snarl, forcing itself upright. Its plasma cannon dimmed, switching instead to rapid-fire railguns mounted along its chassis. Seemed like the instability meant that it would take a while for it to be able to use its cannon again.

“Priest!” Gravel barked.

“Almost there!” Priest hissed.

A burst of metal slugs tore through the jungle, shredding trees and punching craters into the earth. Gravel grabbed Hunter and shoved both of them flat against the bunker’s outer wall as rounds slammed into the structure. Concrete and rusted steel groaned under the assault.

Then—a beep.

Priest shoved the door open. “Inside! Now!”

They scrambled through just as another railgun volley slammed into the doorway. Gravel spun and slammed the reinforced hatch shut, locking it with a heavy clang.

However, the panel flickered—damaged from the assault. The auto-lock wasn’t engaging.

“Damn it,” he growled, yanking open the maintenance panel beside the door. A tangle of old wires and half-corroded circuits greeted him.

Priest’s scanner lit up. “Manual override’s shot. You’ll have to force an emergency lockdown.”

Gravel didn’t waste time. He ripped out a dead relay, bypassed a fried security lock, and jammed his knife between two exposed contact points. Sparks jumped as the system fought him.

[SECURITY OVERRIDE ENGAGED]

The lock ground into place with a deep, mechanical thud. A second later, reinforced barriers slammed down over the entrance.

For a moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing.

Hunter leaned back against the wall, wiping sweat from her brow. “You know what, boulder boy? You were pretty cool back there.”

“Nah.” He smirked. “If anything, I was pretty hot. 1000 degrees Celcius hot, to be exact.”

Then, his comm crackled to life.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice purred through the static. “Getting all cozy in an abandoned bunker. Should I leave you two alone?”

Gravel sighed. “Fang.”

Hunter groaned, rubbing her temples. “Oh, great. Just what we needed. You mind turning off the comm for a couple, I don’t know, days?”

“Hey!” Fang continued, her voice dripping with amusement. “Interrupting your moment must be heartbreaking. But you can cry about it later—right now, we’ve got a problem.”

Gravel pinched the bridge of his nose. “You mean aside from the giant murder-spider outside?”

“Yeah, about that.” Fang’s tone shifted, just slightly. Less teasing, more serious. “You’re not the only ones being shot at. Something’s jamming my approach. I can’t get a clean landing, and I’d rather not find out how many missiles the Republic stuffed into that thing.”

Priest exhaled sharply. “Figures. The Republic never sends just one mech—there’s probably a whole recon team nearby.”

Hunter pushed off the wall. “We need that drive. Fast.”

Gravel flexed his fingers, feeling the lingering hum of energy still coursing through his body. “Then let’s move. Before the next ‘moment’ involves us getting vaporized.”

Hunter adjusted her rifle strap as she stepped deeper into the bunker’s dimly lit corridor. “I’m surprised this place still has power at all for the light bulbs,” she murmured.

Priest was right behind her, fingers dancing over his wrist device, pulling up whatever data he could on the structure.

Gravel stayed at the rear, sweeping his gaze over the narrow hallway. The walls were lined with rusted conduits and blinking panels, some still struggling to power on despite decades of neglect. The air was stale, thick with dust and the faint metallic tang of oxidized steel.

“Priest, where to?” Gravel asked, keeping his voice low.

Priest tapped a few commands. “Schematics show a main server room deeper inside. If the drive is anywhere, it’s there.”

“Any other surprises we should worry about?” Hunter asked.

Priest’s brow furrowed. “Depends. Do you count automated defenses as a surprise?”

Hunter groaned. “They really left traps in an abandoned building.”

A sudden clunk echoed down the corridor. The team froze.

Gravel’s grip tightened on his weapon. “That wasn’t us.”

A faint mechanical whirr followed—a servo motor spinning to life, metal shifting against metal. Then the hallway lights flickered, weak at first, then stronger, bathing the corridor in an eerie, pale-blue glow.

“Motion sensors, though very faint,” Priest muttered. “Something knows we’re here.”

Gravel exhaled through his nose. “Well, no point in sneaking around now.” He took the lead, pushing forward.

The team advanced, weapons raised. The corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit by the flickering overhead lights.

Then they saw it.

A shape dangled in the middle of the passageway, swaying slightly in the stale air. At first, it was just a silhouette—limbs limp, head slumped forward. Then the lights flared brighter for a split second, casting harsh shadows against the walls.

Hunter sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s … not a trap.”