The line breaker tried to lunge after Jumail. These torturous amalgamations of desecrated human bodies and perversions of ancient technology had taken their toll on the battlefields, crossing minefields and opening armored vehicles with the sharpest pincers. But to the misfortune of this specimen, Jumail and Vasily both used anti-armor ammunition; their combined fire cracked the skull and the metal inside, boiling the brain next.

, Jumail and Vasily both used anti-armor ammunition; their combined fire cracked the skull and the metal inside, boiling the brain next.

Left without its guiding bio-computer, the line breaker lost all semblance of sentience and turned into a feral beast. It gurgled and gyrated, trying to go after all enemies at once, only to get stuck in place and turn a sitting duck. Carlos’ and Esmi’s precise shots disabled the hind legs; Edward’s shot opened its spine; and Elina took advantage, firing four shots into the reinforced bone. The damage piled up; energy beams vaporized the swollen flesh and shattered the armor plates inside.

Ratcatcher ignored the battle and concentrated on the wounded. Blood has bubbled on his lips, threatening to silence the labored breathing. She turned him over, finding a sharp piece sticking between his bones. He wasn’t shot in this area; the shambler’s large caliber rifle had ruined his clavicle and damaged shoulder bones, exposing muscles and torn arteries. Judging by the uneven shape of the metal in his body, the poor mister got injured when a bullet struck something metallic and it split, sending splinters everywhere. It was a miracle that the man could speak at all.

A miracle that she won’t let go to waste. First, a regeneration shot from the emergency supply. She plunged the long needle into the wound, releasing the nanites directly into the lung. Less than a hundred Trolls lived in Iterna; the shameful days of the Culling were hard to forget or forgive. But Mr. Argus had invited those who lived to take part in an experiment that resulted in the development of healing nanomachines capable of replicating the Trolls’ regeneration and applying it to a single part of the body.

Such was the cost of this wondrous technology that even the Academy couldn’t afford it. They gained it after the incident in Birchshell. Headmaster Torosian contacted the Shadows. There was a lot of yelling, and Shadow Iuitl, an officer serving as the embassy’s bodyguard, delivered these syringes to the trainees, two to each.

The instructor will kill me. Oh well, I got it easy; I gave it easy. Ratcatcher decided. She saw Augustus; the man jumped from one wall to the other, approaching the group. Without saying a word, he landed next to the line breaker, lacerating it with his sabers and staying clear of the friendly fire.

She tore the piece of metal out, and the wounded didn’t even blink, his senses turning numb in the wounded area. The nanites’ lifespan was short. Without an actual artificial or virtual intelligence to guide them, nanomachines often proceed with their task beyond any reasonable limits, ruining entire areas, so their creator installed a safety measure to prevent them from going rogue. They had already located the damage in the lung, stopped the bleeding, and started rebuilding the punctured organ by sucking nutrients from the man’s body and using them as building blocks. Pain still lingered in the man’s eyes, but he exhaled without wheezing.

Next came a shot of Universal Vaccine to make sure that no filth would turn the wounded into a shambler. After that, she cleaned the horrible gash in the shoulder, used medical gel to mend the torn arteries and stop the bleeding, and bandaged the victim. Ratcatcher decided not to use the last shot of nanites, saving it for the future. Her work done, she removed a crust of blood from the man’s side and found smooth skin underneath. The nanites had already started dissolving and would soon leave through the skin.

Augustus rained blows down on the maddened opponent, opening its chest cavity. Enraged, the line breaker attempted to slam the instructor against the wall in a thunderous stampede. Rowen’s gesture created an immense weight that brought the machine to its knees, cracking the ground. Even immobilized, the line breaker endured three direct slashes that left deep gouges on the main armor plate. Augustus stabbed, landing the tip of his saber on the ruined metal. It gave up, and the weapon entered all the way to the quillon; its sharp edge pierced the energy generator with perfect accuracy.

The instructor tore his weapon free, and Jumail kicked, sending the ruined machine over the heads of the darting trainees. And not a moment too late, it exploded itself as a last resort, spreading acid everywhere. It hissed, corroding and melting the wrecks.

“Ratcatcher!” Elina called. “Is everything okay?”

Ratcatcher gave a thumbs up and stepped back to give Esmeralda room to tend to the wounded. The girl injected him with an adrenaline shot to snap him out of shock.

“Elina Vincent!” Augustus snapped. “You will address a comrade by a human name, not by some animalistic moniker.” He clicked his tongue at the sight of the used syringe. “Wasteful. How is the guest?”

“Nothing threatens his life anymore, but if we don’t get him to a hospital, he’ll need a prosthetic,” Esmeralda said, holding a portable terminal over the wound.

“There’s no point in staying here any longer. Jumail…” Augustus’ started speaking.

“It won’t be that easy,” Wivin’s voice joined the communication.

How are they… Ratcatcher glanced above and giggled. Of course.

“Stop laughing, idiot, to the wall! It’s raining Trolls!” Carlos chuckled, pushing her away from the clearing zone.

The Avengers didn’t choose Augustus’ approach. Instead of jumping from wall to wall, they plunged down all together, their cloaks flapping and the wind howling in their advance. An impact of forty-one Troll landing in almost perfect unison had made the trainees jump in the air and cover the wounded from sharp stones flying everywhere.

“The storm came upon the area.” Countymeister Wivin rose high from the crater she had created with her seven-ton power armor. The Avenger’s life signs appeared on the trainee’s HUD, and nearly all of them had either a dislocated ankle or a shattered knee that healed with each step.

“The storm? Not a storm?” Augustus clarified.

“Plagues are enveloping the area.” Wivin’s helm nodded. Light poured from under the plates of her power armor, banishing the darkness. She pointed up at the heavy, swirling clouds above. Part of them touched the stone, and insects fell dead, their bodies crumbling under the pressure of creepers. “From above, it looks as if a cocoon has enveloped the food production facility. It is still spreading…”

“Driver! And the scavengers! We must warn them!” Ratcatcher took a gas mask out of her backpack and put it on the man’s head. Not the ideal protection, but better than nothing.

“I already sent the man to carry the word to Stonehelm and sent six of my warriors to warn the scavengers,” Wivin said. “The rest of my men are heading to explode the pipes as a precaution.” She tore the golden cloak off her shoulder and gave it to Esmi to wrap the man in it. “Faithful. Can you hear me?” The man nodded. “What happened in the complex?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“An attack.” He swallowed. “It was all so sudden, so many dead, so…” Esmeralda snapped her fingers, stopping the man from drifting off. “A monster! Don’t eat me!” The man flailed, trying to break free and crawl away from Jumail.

Ratcatcher admitted Jumail had an impressive visage in the tunnel's darkness. He removed some plates from his armor-covered legs for better agility, revealing thick columns of hair-covered chitin. The lenses on his helmet glowed crimson, one for each of his natural eyes. He didn’t have to turn the light on, but the teen enjoyed them too much. Add to that the faint glint of metal covering his lower jaw and the human hands extending from his belly, and yes, a horror fuel for someone unfamiliar with him.

“Not biting.” Jumail saluted with a foreleg. “Malformed Jumail, a trainee of Iterna, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.”

“Oh… sorry, kid.” The man held out his arm. “Some of my best drinking buddies are Insectones, but I never… I mean, you are almost as big as the Governor!”

“I do get this a lot.” Jumail touched the palm with his leg. “Not an Insectone though. A Malformed.”

“Concentrate.” Wivin closed on the man. “What happened? Explain.”

“A trader came to sell booze, and soldiers let him in, preparing to scan him and the goods.” He gulped at the pale light of Wivin’s visor, recognizing the heraldry marking the Troll as a member of the Avengers. “I know it’s illegal, but the people needed something to loosen them up a bit… Not that I was ever involved in any of it!”

“Uh-huh,” Augustus said. Ratcatcher didn’t need to turn to feel his gaze on her. You spent a fortune saving a common drunk. “Continue, sir.”

“This time, the trader arrived with several heavy crates. Moonshine, he told us, a big batch to sell in the south. Caravans full of the stuff pass us from time to time; it wasn’t a big deal, I swear!” the man cried out. “Only this time, the trader suddenly attacked the guard.”

“How incompetent must they be if they couldn’t subdue a single person?” Carlos asked.

“They weren’t incompetent!” the man insisted. “Four armed soldiers were in the room, plus one who was supposed to check him. It’s just… We knew the man; he came all the time!”

“So much for not having anything to do with it,” Augustus said on the private channel, his voice unheard by the worker.

“I went to check the booze and noticed that it was strange, darker than anything else.” The worker shook his body, grasping at the cloak. “It was thick, almost like oil. When I asked about it, the trader smiled, and a crimson whip came out of his hand. The guards started raising their weapons, and he swiped, leaving two bodies cleaved and blood gushing out of their torsos like fountains.” He clenched his hands. “Oath, so much blood. I ran, screaming for help, and he kept butchering them in that room, moving fast enough to evade bullets.”

“Crimson whip,” Augustus hissed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! It was… some kind of energy, I don’t know. A mere touch of it sliced through metal and armored windows. I hit the warning siren, and all hell broke loose. The floor started shaking, and two underground transports broke through the bottom floor, unleashing these…” The man nodded at the dead shambler. “They fired at everyone in sight, not caring whether people carried weapons. And the crates! The four-legged beasts tore free of them, and the trader opened gates before the guards at the wall could use the cannons.”

“The facility had several Blessed.” The countymeister’s craned arms reached for her back, disappearing in the woman’s backpack. They came out again, hands replaced with twin-barreled gatling guns, and she picked up a two-handed claymore. “Each is a veteran of several wars. How could they fail?”

“They fought to the last,” the worker replied. “The lieutenant turned his body to steel and savaged the enemies in his path. Thanks to him, we almost reached the safe room.”

“Safe room?” Ratcatcher asked.

“A special bunker capable of keeping personnel alive in the event of a sudden earthquake or nuclear attack,” Wivin explained.

“Yes! If we only could get inside…” The worker trembled at the memories. “But a man walked toward us; his fingers turned to steel blades…”

Metal fingers. No, no, no. It can’t be him. He is dead. Ratcatcher clenched her fist as memories flooded back. The man walking out of the burning house, the golden earring singing at a touch. The brutal beating he had dealt to them and the tip of her tail spasming on the ground. And horror. Utter, absolute horror at the inability to do anything to turn the situation around. Unstoppable. Unbeatable. Nightmares about a bloody skeleton preparing to snatch her in the dark of her room.

It was before! She blinked, banishing the fear. Eight wasn’t dead; the Numbers could come back to life after death. If that bastard was here, if he’s the one causing all this chaos, she’ll beat him up and save his host. She took the mancatcher. The past is set in stone, but she can change the future.

Rowen and Carlos put a hand on her shoulder. Rowen tapped his chest as if to say, ‘Leave him to me, buddy’. Elina held on a little better, reloading her weapon and breathing slowly.

“The two fought for a long time, unable to overcome each other, sparks flying between them.” The worker continued as Augustus took him by the neck and checked his skin under the pretense of making sure he wasn’t sick. In reality, he looked for any sign that the man might be a Number. “The shamblers struck at our backs, and I ran into the tunnels, somehow surviving. But I saw! I saw how the attacker, who has a power similar to the lieutenant’s, turned into a beast of metal, his head scraping the ceiling. He stretched, shattering the stones, and moved so fast that his entire body turned to blood. In one fell swoop, he uprooted and destroyed the corridor, the lieutenant, and everyone behind them. Then I run. I… abandoned others…”

“You made the right choice,” Augustus told the man, nodding to the others. A spike disappeared into his gauntlet after drawing blood. “Had you stayed, you would have died. Countymeister, I suspect that the Oracles...”

“Teamed up with the Numbers. I gathered as much, Augustus. Fitting, a plague clinging to a plague,” she sighed. “Pity we can’t wait for them to inevitably turn on each other in the absence of other victims. No matter. Troops! Form ranks, we return to Stonehelm.”

“But what about the people who remained there?” the worker asked.

“I can answer that!” A familiar, clear voice shouted from a tunnel, and Ratcatcher reached for her pistol.

The Avengers formed a shield wall and pushed the trainees behind them. Armed with short gladii and holding tower shields, these Trolls also carried mounted cannons over their left shoulders. Their heavy armor plates provided complete protection against small arms fire; each cloak was woven from a special heat-resistant material; and artificial muscles gave the Crusaders the incredible reflexes their people so often lacked.

Wivin took the front, standing side-by-side with Augustus. A shimmering energy shield appeared before her; the woman rammed her sword into the ground, her hands resting on the hilt. Augustus’ posture betrayed a hidden aggression; he bent his legs, tensing his muscles, an ammunition ready to explode onward.

They heard clanking steps, accompanied by the release of something hissing. The steps drew closer and closer, speeding up, and as the thing emerged from the tunnel, the worker choked on his breath. Once, in its previous life, the thing crawling to them was a human. Someone had chopped off the arms to the elbows and the legs to the knees and put hooks right into the bone. A small generator worked on the thing’s naked back. Wires ran from it toward a speaker in the mouth, and two cameras replaced the eyes. Parts of the skin were cut open, and crude mechanics got pushed inside, turning the corpse into a remote-controlled marionette.

“Welcome one and all!” Hustler greeted them, speaking through the dynamics. The horror jerked, stood up on its stumps, and bowed. With a calm observation, Ratcatcher noticed that the change hadn’t happened long ago. The thing still moved with some agility, unbound by rigor mortis and spewing crimson blood. And the equipment showed no signs of corrosion. Its cameras found the worker. “Your fellows are being reshaped into forms fit to serve the grandness of his Excellency.”

“Hustler,” Ratcatcher said. This poor man. He, too, was someone’s son, maybe a husband or even a father. He lived an honest life, working to provide food to those in need—something deserving of respect. And that scum dared to take it from him, denying him dignity even in death by mutilating the body.

“Ah, the girl with the crescent blade!” The shield stopped the machine’s attempts to crawl closer. It clawed at it. “I am so glad to see you are in good health. The number of Oracles has diminished considerably, and you will fit perfectly to serve as a banner carrier to spread His word and glory. And a few pestilences.”

“Do you remember what I told you about hurting people?” she asked.

“Your babbling?” The machine touched its chin. “Something about snapping me?”

“Yes. And killing you,” the trainee said calmly. “First, I’ll see you broken. Then I’ll see you gone. This, I swear.”